God, give me strength.
I have a small case of self-diagnosed PTSD. It's nothing serious, just an inability on some nights to sleep, because the horrors of war prevent it. On those nights I am usually here, following the threads and hoping I'll eventually become so tired I'll just pass out.
So it gives me a special sort of rage when I happen to stumble upon this sort of inanity, linked at Crooked Timber
I think all [those jumping ship] may be suffering some variant of PTSD, worn down by defending difficult positions at the forefront of the battle against irredentist Democrats in Congress and their fifth-column in the media.
Oh, you have done it now.
My rant, filled with profanities, after the flip.
If you're a fan of your head exploding, you can read this entire post
here.
So, Bruce Kesler, you think you and your conservative ilk might be suffering from PTSD? I can understand that. Fighting the war against liberalism (a war you've been winning, until recently) from the dangerous confines of your Mom's dank fucking basement must be terrifying. I'm sure I can feel your pain.
Like the time you ran out of Twinkies and Cap'n Crunch. That was a tough day, I'm sure. How's a fighting keyboardist supposed to stay at the top of his game if his Mommy can't keep the snack cupboard stocked?
And I can see how the repetitive motion strain from beating off over war pictures could weigh heavy on your soul. I can almost hear your labored breathing. "Ugh...Ugh...War..Macho...Must...Triumph...Terrorists...Insurgents...Guns...OhGodOhGod." An then the anti-climactic ejaculation. Ah, sweet release. This is definitly the way to support the troops. You know, without walking you fat fucking ass down to the recruiters office and actually becoming one.
And it must hurt you to know that you don't have the stones to actually support this effort by picking up a gun and shooting some terrorists, even though you have to change your sheets every morning because the nocturnal emmisions fairy leaves you sweet dreams of killing some Islamofascists.
But take heart, brave warrior. Even in your own updates people support you.
Democracy Project's Bruce Kesler has an interesting post up in which argues with his usual direct, no-nonsense approach that folks like me on the Right who are, he argues, talking about sitting out the 2006 election are quite possibly suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD.
Referring to yours truly [Mark Tapscott] as well as Ed Morrissey of Captain's Quarters and Professor Stephen Bainbridge, Bruce opines that we suffer as a result of being "worn down by defending difficult positions at the forefront of the battle against irredentist Democrats in Congress and their fifth-column in the media.
Now, while I have no idea who this Mark Tapscott guy is, I'm sure he too suffers from the trauma of keyboard fatigue. The horror, the horror.
But, if you'll forgive a veteran of the war you seem so ready to identify with that you have to fucking imagine trauma to stroke your ego, I'll point you to another one of my diaries, my first and only recommended.
While I was with the 3rd Battalion, 4th Marines, I met a Marine who's name, God help me, escapes my grasp right now. He was a good guy, and funny. He was also mutilating himself. He would put cigarettes out on his arms, and had eight distinct scars the last time I saw him. There were five on one arm. He said those were for people he killed. There were three on the other. Those were for friends he'd lost.
That's what PTSD looks like, you whiny, bessotted, driveling, numbfuck. Realizing you've been duped by a bunch of criminals who used the public trust to line their own pockets does not a constitute trauma.
Trauma comes from see charred dead bodies being carried away, or people shot and their brains spilling out onto the street. It comes from frantically looking for your flak jacket because there are fucking bombs falling from the sky and one of them might have your name on it.
I know you want badly to identify with me, even sympathize with me, but all you do daily in your misspent, wasted, snivellyfuck posts is serve me a helping, heaping plate of righteous fucking anger.
Keep whining, asshole. I hope you and all your 101st Keyboard mates never really have to find out what the "T" in "PTSD" is really all about.
But I could tell you some first hand stories, if you really want to know.