had a class tonight. pitching.
and to quote Mr. Robert Greenwald of Brave New Films, it is "the most insulting, degrading, dehumanizing experience," out there.
anyways...back to killing.
somehow the subject was breached and the hands went up.
how they would kill someone.
murder.
poison the frosted flakes - that's the best way, she said.
and i debated chiming in - a man well-acquainted death.
killing.
bodies lined up, chewed up - pupils wide, rigor setting in.
an ankle-biter; leg missing, dying shortly thereafter.
but i didn't.
-chime in that is.
figured they wouldn't get it.
with all the laughing and naivety.
the fun.
coulda explained the hardest part of killing isn't hiding the evidence.
or acquiring poison.
nope.
it's the act.
the blade pushing past cotton, sinking into flesh. intimate. sexual. penetrating. (not that i've stabbed someone).
the bullet piercing skin, then muscle, then bone.
@ a distance, antiseptic.
just a white building, some 200 meters away, muzzle flashes, black figures darting to and fro.
up close, very ugly.
teeth where they don't belong. matted hair congealed with blood.
and the look...
and the look...
seen it once. poor bastard near baghdad, i think.
didn't realize he was hit.
and for a split second or two, it caught him off guard.
"i've been shot?"
yes, buddy - you have.
and then PLOP!
like a sack of 'taters hitting the ground hard - limbs contorted, convulsing.
this guy...this man...this father...this son...is dead.
but i didn't say a word.
they seemed to have it figured out. and it wasn't my position to school them.
so i listened,
and cringed.
and thought to myself how utterly desensitized this generation of academics have become.
so, lets talk killing...
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