As the bonds and traditions of society break down, people begin to revert more and more to snapping animal-like impulses, whether "iguana", geeky, or werewolf-like.

You had the belching mustard gas of right-wing neoconservative vitriol when the howling Mohammadan mobs are expected to be "quite literally blinded" by the star up in the heavens of American/Israeli destiny and fall to their knees for forgiveness-- for all those roiling ethnocentric sins of the 20th century (-- notwithstanding of course, our own).

An internet scorcher of a news junkie runs his news services out of his white plaster Florida condo, addicted to constant cyber stimulation and diet Mr. Pibb as a huffing, squash-like character who could barely cut it in a Los Angeles CBS gift-shop years before, his gut straining at his dress shirt, when in the present tense he isn't gobbling Oxycontin pills and laxatives in the standardized cubicle of a squat bathroom where everything is made more toxic by expanding, thoughtless construction and dim, piggish eyes shifting around in one's head in a low-down manner.

Hard-core anger with America's decline-- inflamed pimples, crew-cut boils, and creepy abscesses of owl-eyed men obsessed with self-defense tactics.

"How to survive in our crazy & unpredictable world", a brick alley with chain-link fence and graffiti and criminals who look like refugees from "Wrestlemania" with blue gangbanger bandanas and tank tops threatening the well-being of "a mild-mannered computer programmer" carrying a bag of groceries, in all unlikely places. With all the gratification that a geek gets from watching another geek "bite the head off a chicken", the little guy wins as the white, literal-minded voice narrates "the simple steps". . . . . which easily spin out of focus "on the ground", such as in the killer streets of Iraq-- a black plume of smoke rising up in the sky like the destruction of "A-to-B" thinking that throws conservatives in crisis when the world "splorches" inward like a rotten, black citadel of a hard-core ideology's shortcomings.

Most subscribers to "Soldier of Fortune" are those who never fought, just as it is likewise with all those 1950's "Men's Magazines". No soldier likes war, and all the gear advertised in the publication are sold to the rankest amateurs and "fibbers" on the bar circuit. There are 100X as many Green Berets as they were "SSgt Barry Sadler's", and even then. . . . . he died under rather mysterious, ignominious circumstances in Central America in 1989. Real soldiering requires precision, close-order military drill to keep men "sharp n' frosty" and in the habit of following orders without question, for the good of the unit. . . . . with the set objective "of winning the war".

It cannot be done overly by libertarian quarreling, or right-wing "frumpery of the ego" of Michael Savage or Matt Drudge, nor can it be won with liberal "hand-holding" and "respect for feelings" but requires extreme discipline and self-sacrifice.

Every spasm of violence from "a lone wolf" usually signifies extreme, tuburcular weakness and not a man acting out of strength and confidence. Just remember. . . . . you're gonna be a lone, shivering coyote behind those prison walls when the inmates are going to go through your commissary money and take your self-respect and worse.

Once, a Spanish generalissimo was asked on his death bed by a priest if he forgave enemies.

"I have no enemies. . . . . I've had them all shot".

For we Anglos, far better to earn our respect "by hanging tough" and live by the idea of "Destroy your enemies. . . . . make them your friends!"

And that will really "blow the lid off this rotten system". . . . .