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Virgin Monk Boy's avatar

Gabriel doesn’t just speak truth—she bleeds it, on behalf of those who were taught to worship the gun and call it God.

This isn’t anti-veteran—it’s anti-betrayal.

A war cry not of rage, but of holy refusal.

Virgin Monk Boy would like to offer a slightly heretical footnote:

Freedom that requires blood is just privilege with a marketing budget.

And honoring someone for surviving the machine isn’t the same as questioning why the machine exists in the first place.

Gabriel's words don’t ask for your comfort. They ask for your courage.

To feel again. To see again. To love in a world that calls numbness maturity.

If peace had a gospel, this would be it:

Make love, not war—because war is never love’s will.

And anyone telling you otherwise is selling uniforms to ghosts.

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Cathy Hacker's avatar

I’m so glad I saw this post come up for me a second time.

My dad knew he would be drafted for the Korean War. He did not want to be on the front, so he enlisted, went to electronics school, and was placed on a ship that carried fuel, where he hoped not to have to directly participate in combat (although he saw plenty). All kinds of things come to mind about why he did that, what it meant for him, and what it taught me. We never had guns. He was against them. He had nightmares his whole life about his experiences in the war, but would rarely talk about it. When he did, my attention was rapt. I connected with the pain, I wanted to know more, wanted to understand.

Reading your post, I realize more deeply the illusions and delusions we are living in here in this country. I remember the first time I saw a gun. The horror I felt inside my body, my brain trying to make it normal or okay. You are right, in order to kill another human, we have to also kill a part of ourselves. The desensitization and disillusionment we go through has made such confusion.

Your content is so rich, and so important, and I’ll continue to marinate in this. For now, I am just feeling grateful and raw about it. Thank you.

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