Shock and Awe at Walter Reed...
Gee, am I glabbergasted or what? Fuck no. Foobar all the way down, just like the privatized civilian healtcare system. I see it every minute of every fucking work day, every god damned day of the week, every fucking week of the year, every fucking year for last thirty-five years. As they say in the Marines:
Every march is parade Every meal is banquet Every paycheck is a fortune...
God, I love the corps!
(Taken from Aliens. See the scene coming out of the cyrogenetic capsules, when the company master sergent rousts his troops to action...
When I got back to Berkeley from the grand DME delivery tour of San Francisco nightmares this very evening, my buddle Paul came out to put the dumpester on the sidewalk as I was unloading the sad, broken machines of independent living, and we chanted exactly the above, in unison!)
My message (as DI Chuckie-Cheese) to disabled vets is this. Get used to it, Ladies. If you don't like it, then get your weapon and start a fucking revolution, because there is not going to be any other way you are going to live without it. You are going to rot where you sit boys and girls, because that's what the healthcare system in this county does---it kills you, on the cheap.
You want to see mold, rats, roaches, ants, twisted up psychos, and smell that wonderful smell of rotting human flesh from open sores, then just take a trip down memory lane to any county hospital system in the entire country. There you well find Tittycott Follies revisited in Cinamascope---and enough shit to make Walter Reed look like god damned paradise.
So screw you. You bought the ranch.
CG