There’s a real art to combat smack talking. Some people say it is a waste of time. Me, I think that anything that make’s the other guy think about anything other than killing me is real nice. Psychological Warfare the eggheads call it. I call it fighting smart. Perhaps the most fun four words I’ve gotten to say are “I have your gun.” I love the dawning look of comprehension on their faces. It really is priceless.
I’ve studied a lot of cultures in my life, met a lot of people who believe a lot of things. I respect most of them. Some of them, I just can’t comprehend. What system of belief could make anyone believe it is right to kill their own little boy or girl all because they want to live differently than their parents? We always accept those contracts.
I grew up under a full moon, my toes in the water, watching firelight glinting off the waves. I remember guitars, cold beers in the coolers, and dancing like I didn’t have a care in the world. We swayed back and forth to the good songs, lighters held high. We were never growing up. Then the Shang came. Now, every chance I get, I grab myself a guitar, find a beach and some pretty girls, and I play.
We live with our eyes forward, facing our futures. If we live only in the past, remembering and regretting what we did wrong, we aren’t really alive. Life is about movement, about change. So I look to the future, to the things I can do to make things better, to the things I can learn and tell my people, and I keep flying. And sometimes I have to kick Jack in the shins to get him moving too.
I’ve been a lot of places since I left the military, seen a lot of things and done a lot of things. Sometimes I’m asked if I enjoy all the adventure I see. Well, the way I see it, adventure is someone else being cold, hungry, in pain, and in danger a long ways away from you. Me, what I enjoy is sitting on a beach with a guitar in my hand, a bonfire burning, and some pretty girls dancing.