The Pickle: Requiscat in Pace Uncle Sam

1/20/2009

Requiscat in Pace Uncle Sam

I wore all black to work today to mourn the untimely passage of our nation.

Labels: The New USSA

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: Name: G-Man; Location: Oregon, United States

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QUOTES TO LIVE BY

"If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without blood shed; if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves." - Winston Churchill

“The secret of happiness is freedom, and the secret of freedom is courage.” - Pericles

In a time of need, a gun in the hand is better than an entire police department on the other end of a phone line.

While it is true that a government rules only by the consent of the governed. Too many of us have not considered that silence might easily be construed to be consent.

"The arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and assistance to foreign hands should be curtailed lest Rome fall." - Cicero, 55 BC

"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds." - Samuel Adams

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction" - Ronald Reagan

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Fiddlers' Green

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

The Pickle

1/20/2009

Requiscat in Pace Uncle Sam

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Fiddlers' Green