White Chocolate

I am not sure why I responded to Jennifer's post. Read it once, trying to make sense of it, skimmed it again, and then responded with macro view impatience about our inability to be ruthless and efficient enough, but if we were that we would not have put Bales in prison, nor castigated servicemen who spoke out loud what we all believe, but remains a breach of manner to say: American and European lives are more valuable than certain Arabic African and some Asian groups. And Google would have banned me long ago for demonic ferocity, although there is a difference in the imagining of mobile savagery and the actual ability of my transfer skills, and I haven't attempted to strangle kimmy for being a stubborn female. The minute I sit up I am subjected to relentless head buts from this relegated feline whose litter could not be saved, and as such I am posting without freshly brewed Italian roast, always unwise, even if kimmy doesn't let up, leaping and dancing, chewing plastic because she wants greens, until, resolute, I sit still.

Islamic State is hard enough, which makes them both admirable and dishonorable. They killed the press on our home turf. I stayed my hand on Foley for being a fool, going into the chaos of Syrian fractures, but killing journalists on the home front, then going after the Jews who remained on European soil, remained French-- there is no honor in this kind of attack, even if Islamic State would argue they are doing what WW2 Zionists did. The Zionists in the aftermath of the Third Reich had a reasonably zealous agenda in the face of a mechanized banal slaughter humans had never seen before, lacking the technical capacity. I don't think recreating a modern Israeli state worked, but comprehend it as a mission statement.

Extremists want a Caliphate? Afghanistan is already a prime example of homo sapiens devolution.

Karina pinged to ask how I was; you could wag a finger: See, you fired her and said she was stupid and she has remained kind. Yes, but I gave her about 300 I wouldn't have given a person of color. The kindness I miss is my childhood physical therapy aide. Mary Anne. She let me sleep over, taught me about scoliosis, which she had, not visibly, and prepared me for confirmation, an innocent attachment to a child vanquished by tunnel visions of loss too difficult to absorb. I don't know what went through her head day after day, watching me tortured in leg braces, locked into a standing table, mailing letters with Eisenhower's bust as an imprint on ten cent stamps. Lesbianism wasn't even a concept, though she was a Catholic woman of the 70's, floral blouses and an auburn beatles bob for a hairstyle. 

I need my coffee now.