Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle.
You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, every one of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. Americans love a winner. Americans will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American.
Your blogs are not all going to die. Only two percent of the blogs right here today would die in a major battle. Blog-Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all blogs. Yes, every blogger is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood.
Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.
All through your blogging careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken shit blogging." That, like everything else in this Blogosphere, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every blogger. I don't give a fuck for a blogger who's not always on his toes. You bloggers are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A blogger must be alert at all times if he expects to survive. If you're not alert, sometime, a British son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of shit!
A blogging army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking! We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.
All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single blogger in this Blog Army plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Everyone has a job to do and he must do it. Every blogger is a vital link in the great chain. What if every humor writer suddenly decided that he didn't like the whine of those comments from overseas, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a non-posting funk? The cowardly bastard could say, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don't think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every blog, every blogger, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The Political Bloggers are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Cat Blogger is needed to bring up smiles and "AwwwwwwThatsSoCute" because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to smile about. Every last man and woman on every blog has a job to do, even the ones who live underwater to keep us from posting 'Blogger Shit.'
Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy blogging beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Blog Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on a laptop in the midst of a furious fight against Sortpundit. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing there at a time like that. He answered, 'Uploading a post, Sir.' I asked, 'Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?' He answered, 'Yes Sir, but the Goddamned post has to be uploaded.' I asked, 'Don't those comments strafing your other posts bother you?' And he answered, 'No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!' Now, there was a real man. A real Blogger. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds.
And you should have seen those Bloggers. They were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching Brits, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with vile comments bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old American guts.
Many of those men blogged for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren't combat men, but they were Blogging Soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.
Sure, we want to go back to normal. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Manchester. And when we get to Manchester, I am personally going to give a noogie to that Wall Street Journal son-of-a-bitch Keith Taylor. Just like I'd give a noogie to a half-baked Super Hero!
When a man is taking time off from blogging, if he just stays like that all day, a Brit will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My Bloggers don't take time off. I don't want them to. Sabatticals only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to take one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Brits that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just out-blog the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the keyboards of our computers. We're going to murder those lousy Limey cock suckers by the bushel-fucking-basket.
A Blog War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When their posts are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it's the blood and guts of what once was the blog of your best friend beside you, you'll know what to do!
I don't want to get any messages saying, 'I am holding my position.' We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the British do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like shit through a tin horn!
From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more British Blogs we will kill. The more British Blogs we kill, the fewer of our Blogs will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.
There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great Blog War, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, 'Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Blog Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named General George S. Patton!'
That is all.