And now, a passage from Starship Troopers

[Just Crouton]

I thought about it during the last session of our class in History and Moral Philosophy. H. & M. P. was different from other courses in that everybody had to take it but nobody had to pass it—and Mr. Dubois never seemed to care whether he got through to us or not. He would just point at you with the stump of his left arm (he never bothered with names) and snap a question. Then the argument would start. But on the last day he seemed to be trying to find out what we had learned. One girl told him bluntly: "My mother says that violence never settles anything." "So?" Mr. Dubois looked at her bleakly. "I'm sure the city fathers of Carthage would be glad to know that. Why doesn't your mother tell them so? Or why don't you ?" They had tangled before—since you couldn't flunk the course, it wasn't necessary to keep Mr. Dubois buttered up. She said shrilly, "You're making fun of me! Everybody knows that Carthage was destroyed!" "You seemed unaware of it," he said grimly. "Since you do know it, wouldn't you say that violence had settled their destinies rather thoroughly? However, I was not making fun of you personally; I was heaping scorn on an inexcusably silly idea—a practice I shall always follow. Anyone who clings to the historically untrue—and thoroughly immoral—doctrine that 'violence never settles anything' I would advise to conjure up the ghosts of Napoleon Bonaparte and of the Duke of Wellington and let them debate it. The ghost of Hitler could referee, and the jury might well be the Dodo, the Great Auk, and the Passenger Pigeon. Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms." He sighed. "Another year, another class—and, for me, another failure. One can lead a child to knowledge but one cannot make him think." Suddenly he pointed his stump at me. "You. What is the difference, if any, between the soldier and the civilian?" "The difference," I answered carefully," lies in the field of civic virtue. A soldier accepts personal responsibility for the safety of the body politic of which he is a member, defending it, if need be, with his life. The civilian does not." "The exact words of the book," he said scornfully. "But do you understand it? Do you believe it?" "Uh, I don't know, sir." "Of course you don't! I doubt if any of you would recognize 'civic virtue if it came up and barked in your face!" He glanced at his watch. "And that is all, a final all. Perhaps we shall meet again under happier circumstances. Dismissed."

[Ryusei the Morning Star]

You don't respect anything, do you. And I am not expecting a no. I expect you to say "We are holy, and I love yoour family. Praise the Lord! Cry cry cry...." STOP BE SUCH A HYPOCRITE! You say you love us and our people, but your only goal is to sexualize everything. You don't care about us. ABOUT US! You only care about the wicked. In fact, don't reply to me. You don't care. You don't care. You don't care. You hate us. Everybody hates us! You don't know what it feeeeeeeeeeeeels like, do you. If anyone hates you, it doesn't matter; it doesn't effect who you are, and nothing can hurt you because you live safe and sound anyways. But we are persecuted, and it's because of you people! We risk our lives for the people, but why?! I read everyday and understand nothing; you would have a better chance of living forever then me being BURNED! But we will die; nothing can stop that, and I lived in his house forever, only to stray everyday! Be lucky you have comfort, and you can insult me if you want, but my family is more righteous then both of us. Be thankful you can see them soon, and see me at the furnace. BE QUIET!!

[Just Crouton]

You don't respect anything, do you. And I am not expecting a no. I expect you to say "We are holy, and I love yoour family. Praise the Lord! Cry cry cry...." STOP BE SUCH A HYPOCRITE! You say you love us and our people, but your only goal is to sexualize everything. You don't care about us. ABOUT US! You only care about the wicked. In fact, don't reply to me. You don't care. You don't care. You don't care. You hate us. Everybody hates us! You don't know what it feeeeeeeeeeeeels like, do you. If anyone hates you, it doesn't matter; it doesn't effect who you are, and nothing can hurt you because you live safe and sound anyways. But we are persecuted, and it's because of you people! We risk our lives for the people, but why?! I read everyday and understand nothing; you would have a better chance of living forever then me being BURNED! But we will die; nothing can stop that, and I lived in his house forever, only to stray everyday! Be lucky you have comfort, and you can insult me if you want, but my family is more righteous then both of us. Be thankful you can see them soon, and see me at the furnace. BE QUIET!!

 

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels. Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the “loser,” and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round. I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world. Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment. When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3×5 card reading, “Please use this M&M for breeding purposes.” This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this “grant money.” I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion. There can be only one.

[Ryusei the Morning Star]

Cut the cornered rat crap and do something better with your time than pretending like you’re better than everyone else on a funking yugioh card maker forum