Whenever a loathsome warmonger dies in the ditch, Jesus The Prince of Peace smiles upon the world below. He probably felt a little bit like dancing a jig with the passage of Senator John McCain. There are those who lionize Planewrecker John as a hero and statesman. They fit into an odious subclass of journalistic and Washingtonian slime. They are the hated warmongers that lube the all-Amerikan rectum with a can of WD-40 for a fine, lubricious slow-screw.
A vast pro-war establishment powers the militarization of US foreign policy. Often funded by government contractors, a horde of advocacy groups, think tanks, and academics explain that the answer to most challenges is a large military – and war. They are warmongers, in the literal sense of those who start wars for personal profit…. our warmongers are paid to involve America in foreign wars. It is a great business. One of the most influential in America today.
In fairness, a younger, far less corrupt, John McCain tried to do the right thing while crash-landing multi-million dollar Class IX End Items so that our enemies could paw through the wrecks for the finest in advanced technology. He even suffered for it in the infamous Hanoi Hilton. It’s a shame he was left there long enough to be electable yet still taken out before he was totally done. The evil done by this carrion crow for hire of The Military-Industrial Complex will live on in the “Vegetable Patches” of vile VA Hospitals far after John McCain has fed his final worm.
Now understand well that War and Hatred are part and parcel to man’s fallen state on our miserable spinning orb. Plato would opine that Carrion John has only now fed like Vlad The Impaler on his final American corpse. King Solomon describes well the tragic, black pilled reality of man’s existence in Book 3 of Ecclesiastes.
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
Where John McCain truly embraced the furtherance of Satan’s own malignant evil was that there was always time to speak, always time to tear down, and always time to hate. War, to Senator McCain, was the only proper activity for other men to engage in. He would send them to wage it wherever and whenever. It was blessed silence, gracious love, condign mending and the relief of peace that Senator McCain viewed with a snarling contempt and disdain worthy of a priapetic Aries.
The best of all worlds for John McCain’s bottom line would be Orwell’s permanent war against Eastasia/Eurasia. His preaching on behalf of interventionism in Iraq, Syria, Iran, Bosnia, Kosovo, Libya, !RUSSIA!, Georgia (No this won’t help The Diamondbacks beat The Braves, Senator), Afghanistan, !CHINA!, Nigeria (WTF?), and Sudan (FTW?!) mathematically covered Orwell’s entire imagined hellscape. Then it would have required a third fictional continent for Nigeria and Sudan. We’ll call it Obamania or Wakanda, perhaps.
The bottom of the food pyramid, the organisms that break down and reprocess the dead, have truly lost a grand benefactor in the passing of John McCain. The haters hate for eternity and blood of innocent men will forever water the ravening grasses. Yet the world’s Doomsday Clock can move the hands a few minutes further from Midnight now that John McCain has emulated Dr. Strangelove and ridden his nuclear rocket off into whatever he truly deserves beyond the grave.
Maybe now, just for the nonce, we can avoid a stupid and pointless war in Syria. Maybe now, with John McCain no longer representing Lockheed Boeing in the US senate, we can let fly the pure white doves of peace. Perhaps, just perhaps that soldier, sailor, airman or marine who comes home alive and intact will no longer get sent to some far-flung frontier of the empire to put it all on the line once again now that graveworm McCain has finally crawled off to join his own. Most importantly, that father, mother, sister, brother, husband or wife will not suffer the tragic termination of having to wage Achilles’ Last Stand in some fly-eaten hellhole.