Korean War Veteran

I’ve known Aaron Blinken his whole life. Considering what his childhood was like he turned out real well. I credit a judge with the wisdom to make him enlist in the military or go to jail. Aaron’s time in the service turned him into what man he is.

He’s a bleeding heart. I hate to use that term on a local.

Like a lot of "spiritual" but wrong-headed people, he thinks the world is mostly safe. It isn’t.

How anybody who lived in the canyons could think like he does is beyond me.

Don’t blame Mrs. Wise, she’s a woman of grit. Knock on her cabin door some night, you’ll be a finger twitch from a .45 caliber angioplasty.

Look around yourself, starting on the forest floor. If Aaron were 1/2 inch tall, he’d be dead and et by a centipede as big as a freight train with jaws like an auto ripper.

Look in the fields. If Aaron or some other bleeding heart were the size of a sausage they’d be pounced and pounded and crunched by a weasel or coyot or coon or plucked and gutted by a hawk or mesmerized and eaten whole by a bull snake or fat rattler.

In the woods, the size he is, Aaron could be neck-snapped and et half off the leash by a cat, like my neighbor’s German Shepherd, who, at 12 years and spayed was still tougher than Blinken.

I’m here to testify that the mean critters in the wilds are timid and stupid compared to the biggest predator, Man.

Man has always killed man more than any other animal, except the malaria mosquito. The mosquito gives you disease.

Man kills man in inventive and cruel ways. In my life I’ve seen things that will drive a bleeding heart to go crazy or jump in the bathtub using the hair dryer. You couldn’t see that as a bleeding heart and live.

In my short 24 months in Korea I saw what primitive people do to sheltered bleeding hearts like Blinken. The weather could be ten below zero with screaming winds but still you didn’t dare close your eyes against the night. You didn’t dare pull your head inside your mummy bag. You didn’t think of taking your rifle, no matter how cold the steel, out of your bag or your finger, even if it was numb, from the trigger.

If you did, in the morning we’d find you dragged from camp in your sleeping bag, bayoneted in the throat so you couldn’t scream, stripped of your clothes and provisions, and slit from crotch to throat, ice crusting the ragged lips of your abdomen. Or, maybe your bag would be gone, and you’d be hanging from a fork in the branches of a stunted tree by a stake that had been driven through your head while you were alive, your icy eyes bulging to make room in your skull for the stake, leaving you looking surprised to be dead.

This is what Blinken and others like him don’t see, are afraid to see. There are people out there who would kill you for sport, and take what you have, and enslave your children and have your women.

This happens all the time. There are countries in the world today where you can buy a person for their kidneys or corneas, or buy a child for unspeakable and depraved acts. This happens all the time, even the U.N. doesn’t try to deny it.

Close your eyes against it, watch television, email on the computer to your bleeding heart friends about how awful it is that the country builds a bomber to protect us from those who would kill us, instead of giving school books in Spanish to little illegal immigrant kids. Write to your congressman about how awful it is to dunk some demented religious zealot’s head in the toilet to get information, instead of letting thousands of Americans die of terror.

The people who hate us are still out there, still waiting to see the surprise on your face when they kill you. They are still waiting to hear to funeral wails of your family when they blow you up so bad there isn’t enough of your body left to find teeth or fingers to say who you were.

If America let its guard down for a second, we’d be pleading for our lives against every country from Cuba to Iran. Who would save us, the French?

The same is true right here at home. There are people living out in the hollows who are so degenerate they might as well be primitives from another country. They live in filth, raise their kids to be hookers, welfare cheats and drug dealers. They make poisons and associate with the worst kind of dregs from the city, and though they’re 1% of the population, they commit 95% of the crime. Only the local troopers keep these people from preying on Blinken and his ilk, instead of going south, where the police are overwhelmed.

Next time you read one of Aaron Blinken’s columns, go in and turn out the lights and go to bed. Then listen to every noise and every thud, and pretend there is no Bill Anchorman out there, no American tanks, missiles and super bombers out there protecting you, but that, instead, Aaron Blinken is protecting your life. Now, try to sleep.

Sign me: Korean Veteran