The Draft

February 15, 2005 - 12am

Well, this should be terrifying to any American aged 18-34. Read it.

A few weeks ago, Christine and I were driving down the street, listening to the liberal talk radio station that I’m perpetually tuned to, and they were discussing the possible reinstatement of the draft. I asked Christine if she would be willing to move to England with me should that happen. (Canada, unfortunately, is no longer an option for the draft-dodger. They’ve worked out treaties with the US to send them back.)

She said no.

She did, however, mention the possibility of Ireland, and I intend to hold her to that. I absolutely will not serve in the American military under the current administration.

I don’t want to avoid military service because I’m a coward, or because I’m not a patriot, or because I hate freedom, or because of any of the other reasons that a recruiter may give you. I love this country, I love the freedoms it was founded on, and I love what this country used to stand for.

I am not against the idea of military service. My great uncle Ed was a tail gunner in the Pacific theater in World War II, and I’m proud to claim a close relation having served honorably in such a pivotal event in history. There are scenarios where I would voluntarily enlist, but they would have to be damn good reasons… the only ones I can think of would be a full-scale military invasion of the continental US or a nuclear war which we did not initiate.

My primary reason for being against military service is because I am completely and totally against the policies of the Bush administration. The man is a liar, a thief, and a symbol for everything that is wrong with America. If I worked for the government, I’d need to know, not suspect, not hope, know that I was fighting for something that was worthwhile and honorable. I know that in George Bush’s America, I couldn’t possibly believe that what I would be fighting for would be anything more than an extension of his lies and delusions.

Secondarily, I find violence to be abhorrent. While I practice martial arts, I do so to learn to defend myself (and others) and to stay in shape. I don’t start fights, and I walk away when I can. Since I started learning martial arts more than four years ago, I have been involved in only two altercations. Both times alcohol was involved, and both times cooler heads prevailed before anything of consequence happened. I regret my lack of restraint on both occasions and hope to do better if similar circumstances arise. I may know strikes and combinations that could easily incapacitate or seriously injure an opponent, but I’m still the guy that would rather painstakingly catch and release a spider than kill it. I often say things like, “So-and-so deserves to be beaten to death” or “Dubya should be publicly crucified upside down,” but I don’t mean it. I couldn’t willfully cause that degree of suffering in another human being.

And thirdly, if I knew that I had been directly or indirectly responsible for the death of another human being, I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. I remember being young and reading that when you kill someone, you lose a part of yourself. It’s gone forever, and nothing you do can bring it back. I think that whatever that part is—I can’t even identify it because I’ve never been without it—is an essential part of my humanity. I have no intention of killing one stranger at the behest of another stranger because one of them happens to be on “my side.”

I hope that I’ve made my case in a way that’s understandable to most people. While I believe in the ideals of America, I don’t believe that fighting for them is the way to go about defending them.

He’s gone! HE’S GONE!

February 14, 2005 - 12am

So, as I predicted, Pedro left for Seattle today. It was a bad idea, as he’s probably going to be fired pretty soon here, but I am so glad he’s gone. You have no idea.

This place actually feels like home without his nihilistic chain-smoking pothead ass around. It doesn’t stink like stale joints in the living room, there’s no one to yammer at me when I’m trying to pay attention to other things… I cleaned tonight, and it’s actually going to stay clean until I do something to mess it up.

It’s fantastic. I wish there was some way for me to convince him to pay his half of the rent, but never come back.

!Motorcycle

February 5, 2005 - 12am

You know how I mentioned that I was given a motorcycle? Yeah, you can forget about that. I went to my parents’ house to help clean up a tree that was struck by lightning, and my dad told me that he had taken a look at the bike. The news wasn’t good.

He’d only taken a cursory glance at it, but from what he could see, there are the following problems:

  • Clutch: It needs one. Not a new one, mind you, it actually needs a clutch. It simply doesn’t have one.
  • Tires: weather cracked and unsafe to ride on. They may not even hold air pressure long enough for me to take the bike out to have new ones put on. (Hypothetically speaking, anyway. It’s not like the bike is going anywhere.)
  • Electrical: There are random wires sticking out all over the place. I’d need a new wiring harness at least.

And that’s just glancing at the thing. God knows what he’d have come up with if he’d really gone over it.

Assuming that I went to the trouble of paying for and fixing all that, I still have no idea what kind of shape the engine and transmission are in. Basically, for the money that I’d put into restoring this piece of junk (my dad estimated $500), I could buy a newer bike that’s in better shape.

Which means so much for the bike. I can’t afford it anyway.

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© Marc Teale 2009.