America's Military Industrial Complex

Often I write about the demand of submission.  The town currently in which I live often demands this submission.   Figuratively I have written about this submission without specifically explaining what it is.  Submission?  The action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.  Today only a few minutes ago I was forced into submission by my mother.    I was emasculated, because evidently I failed to complete two tasks only which had been agreed upon less then twenty-four hours ago.  I had not had time to assimilate these tasks into my daily routine.  I did know that the neglect of these two tasks severely would cause my mother acute emotional distress.  I was rushed preparing dinner last evening and mistakenly left a few green onion stems in our slop bucket on the kitchen countertop.  This is a grievous offense, and I knew it at the time.  I was in a rush, because friends were picking me up for a social outing in less than one hour.  Mistakenly I failed to comply to this newly agreed upon protocol.  One must empty the slop bucket directly after filling it.  The slop bucket now unbeknownst to me has become only a temporary vessel for the displacement of food scraps whilst cooking.  It used to be my mother would empty her own bucket, so never before was I taught the lesson that food spoils easily in ninety degree heat and stinks up the kitchen.  I learned it tonight.  Also I took the fall for this spoiled food making its way into our large, green, plastic city-supplied garbage can.  Also it stank to high heaven.  Because I was high on wine last night, these issues avoided my attention.  Be assured that they were made my primary focus upon my mother's now discovered need to prepare her own dinner.  The combination was volatile.  A lack of the necessary evening meal combined with the stink of rotted food inside and outside made for a surly exchange of priorities.  It was not fun.  I was forced into submission.  I was emasculated by my mother.  While she will not admit it, the message was, "You had your social outing, and you have ignored me."  Message received loud and clear.  This is why I do not partake in evening social outings.  I stay at home.  The only social outings I do engage in are with my mother.  They are hers, and they are for her.  I do not enjoy them.  People do not know how to relate to a grown single man accompanying a matriarch.  When I step away it becomes easy, but I cannot.  Women are women, and like Donald Trump would assert, they at times are irrational.  Former Subway spokespeople enjoy child pornography and having sex with minors.  In the current Condition of America, we simply are defined by a mockingly ignorant, "He said, she said."  Our feeble gray matter can't assemble a conclusion, because we have no opinions upon which to draw.  Everything is okay.  I'm okay, you're okay, but we're not.  It is not okay for everything to be okay.  We are conditioned to say everything is okay, because it lessens the anxiety of contesting to the accumulation of wealth by America's and thus the world's oligarchy.  We are conditioned by eating mislabeled food, drinking poisoned water, being irradiated by microwaves, given cancer, and told to sit down and shut up.  Our submission is demanded.  Think not for one second that we are free in America.  We are not.  Other than my submission being demanded by my emotionally frustrated, malnourished, sarcastic mother, my submission is demanded by the world's largest military machine at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.  This is not a delusion.  The upkeep of the world's most capable fighting force is no walk in the park, especially when the 82nd Airborne is involved.  How you may ask is my submission demanded?  My submission is demanded by my urban environment's deluge with refuse from a military industrial complex.  Fayetteville after all is a military industrial complex.  It encompasses the nation's largest military base, and it encompasses industry.  We as citizens of Fayettenam live in the refuse of this complex, and the bulk of this refuse is elusive, invisible, harmless infrasound.  [sic] Reference Vladimir Gavreau.  This is not a delusion, but like the majority of corrupt evil things in America, it is spun.  Ashton Carter.  Did you know this man is the current Secretary of State in the Obama Administration?  I did not.  I had to Google it.  There has been no news about this man and his position, just like there is no news about any issues that deserve review by the American populace.  Newspeak doesn't work that way.  In l984 the real news was reported, and Big Brother changed it to suit his political motives.  This is what we have in America today, and it is frightening.  I was emasculated for not having washed out the slop bucket and garbage can leaving the smell of spoiled food inside and outside our meager middle-classed home.  Daily my submission and subsequent emasculation is required to believe the lies that circulate around me in the media.  Daily my submission and subsequent emasculation is required to ignore the raging war machine less than ten miles from our meager middle-classed home.  The earth shakes, the windows rattle, the aircraft strafe, and the two-mile-long war trains are assembled leaving my emotions confused and upset.  While the pro-military propaganda is rife, if you choose to ignore the fighting military presence subconsciously it begins to rage against you.  In other American cities mysterious daunting aircraft do not fly above the treeline between Fayetteville Regional Airport and Pope Field.  I have yet to discover the nature of each T-tailed, turbo-prop and jet, with an American flag painted on their tail.  I assume it is one of the forty odd Generals employed at Ft. Bragg going out for coffee.  I don't know which is worse, this never ending, paranoid, military machismo, or the corruption of our local medical establishment.  It is common knowledge that Ft. Bragg with its fifty-two thousand soldiers is ripe for the picking of local connoisseur professional people.  We have an ever-expanding Cape Fear Valley conglomerate which overprescribes, bilks, and kills local residents each year.  I know this because my aunt is a nurse in an area that has empathetic and professional health care.  They are not only concerned with the dollar as they seem to be here.  It is a shite state of affairs.  As I roam through the stores of Fayetteville I only can tell myself I am in a horrible dream and that these aging people never could allow a stranger to exist.  This is what capitalism is.  It is every man for himself.  Fuck your neighbor.  Never have I agreed with it, and at no other point in time in American history has our chosen socioeconomic system failed so drastically.  It has.  Capitalism has failed.  We no longer are free, and there only is anarchy to come.  America long is overdue for a revolution.