When Was The Last Time You Thought About Blowing Your Brains Out?

Some shocking statistics show that if you are in the United States Military, then there is a good chance that it hasn't been too long since you thought about suicide. After reading this distressing article, and doing some further research of my own around the web (mainly at this site), I came up with some startling figures.

The suicide rate amongst members of the United States Army is the highest it has been in twenty-six years. There were 118 suicides in the American Armed Forces in 2006, which is a staggering number when you consider that the number-one killer (come on, you all know what that is - IEDs) of our children in Iraq only killed 462 in 2006. This means that self-inflicted deaths have caused one quarter as many deaths as the cause of death we all know from the evening news. IED is a house-hold term nowadays, and yet we never hear about how frequent suicides are today within our armed forces. The total number of dead United States troops in Iraq was 822 in the year of 2006 alone. That means that 14.35% of all the deaths in 2006 were from suicides! That's an enormous percentage!

All of this comes at a time when the Army, in particular, is attempting to find ways to help their members to a larger degree as far as their mental health is concerned. It's a good thing, because 100 of the 118 suicides in 2006 came from the Army alone. Fourteen were from the Marines, and four were from the Navy. There were no suicides in 2006 amongst members of our Air Force.

Why is this? Experts say that it is mostly because of the protracted involvement we have had with Iraq. Things have gone on much longer than expected, and the reasons for our occupation are becoming less and less clear as time goes on. Well, that's what I got from the article, but I would contend that it doesn't take an expert to figure that out.

Frankly, it is disgusting when the numbers are crunched. We hear constantly how this soldier and that soldier got blown into hamburger by an IED on some stranger's street in some stranger's country fighting for no good reason. I cannot recall one instance of hearing a news story about suicides in our armed forces. If it causes roughly 25% as many deaths, you would think there would be at least one story about it, right?

The report that announced these numbers said that there was a direct correlation between the number of days deployed and suicide. Before I get emails from people saying that this report must be published by some "liberally biased site," let me just state that the report was published by the United States Army.

I hope this blog gets you to think, and to perhaps take some action.

"But R.A.Matheson," I can hear you asking, "what action can I take?"

If you are in a major city, then I can guarantee that there are plenty of anti-war rallies in your area. If you aren't in a city of substantial size, you can hook up with like-minded individuals by posting on bookstore bulletin boards, or handing out flyers. Start your own thing if there is nothing around. If these options aren't doable, get online and start blogging about it, or go and support websites such as antiwar.com, or do all of the above.

No matter what you do, it helps. Even discussing it with friends or family helps raise awareness of the issue, and awareness is the first step to taking action.


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Dalton Trumbo, Where Are You?

We need another Dalton Trumbo. Someone who could write in a way that would stir us, a way that would shock us. Someone who would stand up for what they believed in even at the cost of their freedom, even at the cost of having to change their name and flee to Mexico.

Who was Dalton Trumbo? In my opinion, he is one of the greatest American Novelists, and a true American that lived in the Twentieth Century. He wrote the movie "Papillon", and wrote and directed the movies "Exodus" and "Spartacus." More importantly, he wrote the novel Johnny Got His Gun. For an example of his writing, I provide the following from his Vietnam-era introduction for Johnny Got His Gun, where Dalton does a little arithmetic for us:

"Numbers have dehumanized us. Over breakfast coffee we read of 40,000 American dead in Vietnam. Instead of vomiting, we reach for the toast. Our morning rush through crowded streets is not to cry murder but to hit that trough before somebody else gobbles our share.

An equation: 40,000 dead young men = 3,000 tons of bone and flesh, 124,000 pounds of brain matter, 50,000 gallons of blood, 1,840,000 years of life that will never be lived, 100,000 children who will never be born."

His book, "Johnny Got His Gun," which I read for the first time in Tenth Grade, changed my life. It instilled the mostly pacifist and antiwar viewpoints that, except for a few years in my early/mid twenties, are still with me today as I enter my thirties. It is the most powerful book I can imagine ever being written. Dalton was blacklisted, spent eleven months in prison, and eventually fled to Mexico to avoid the reprocussions of having written Johnny Got His Gun. Eventually, he found favor in the U.S. and Hollywood again and did a film adaptation in 1971 for his novel, which inspired Metallica's song "One." Metallica used scenes from the movie in the video for the song, and instead of wrangling with legal rights, the band bought the movie rights outright.

I am saddened to think what you would consider of today's situation in Iraq and elsewehre in the world. I am sure you would be even more ashamed. Back in your day, Dalton, the politicians were at least able to convince the masses that words such as "freedom" and "democracy" meant something. Nowadays, no one believes in those words anymore, and yet we still send our sons (and daughters now) off to be blown into little meaty bits for absolutely no good reason. It's sick, and I bet if you could choose, you'd be glad to remain dead so as to not face the disgusting world we now live in.

Dalton, I'm sure you know what Plato said about war, and I'm sure you've found it to be true.

Rest in Peace Dalton Trumbo.

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New Post Schedule

Things have become incredibly busy now that I am in the last semester at my University. I will try to keep the posting to at least once a week, but posting every other day is no longer something I can do. I hope you understand, and continue to read.

Thank you.

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Your Children Disgust Me

I'm sure there will be a ton of hate-mail about this one, and yes, it may be a tiny bit tongue-in-cheek. That's the only sort of disclaimer I'm going to offer.

But really, folks, I hate your children. I may be biased, but is my child the only one that doesn't look like a clay-mation doll that used fat instead of clay, and then went horribly wrong? I may be biased, but is my child the only one that doesn't smell like week-old bacon? I may be biased, but is my child the only one with an I.Q. over eighty? I may be biased, but is my child the only one that has a personality that is tolerable?

I can't stand other people's children. They really disgust me. I'm sure every parent feels this way a bit, but when I take him to say, his school, I almost feel bad for leaving him with that riff-raff. It's the most accredited school in the state, and is attached to a major University, and all the parents of these kids are either current University students, or alumni. But seriously, if a kid there isn't ugly, it's drooling, if it's not drooling, it's got snot dried all over it's fat face, if there's no snot, then it's staring off into space like it is brain damaged, and if it's not doing that, well...you get the point.

Don't get me wrong, I mean, there are a few kids I like. My baby-sitter has a couple of cute and nice children, and so does my best friend. It's hard for me to think of any other children that I can tolerate though.

I mean, really. My kid is a genius. He just turned four, and he can do some simple addition (four plus four is, two plus three is, five and five is, six and six is, etc.), he can read a number of three-letter words, and can phonetically sound out and decode some two syllable words even when he's not familiar with them. He can browse a free game site such as shockwave.com or nickarcade.com and find a game that looks good, download it, install it, create a shortcut on the quicklaunch bar for the game, and then delete the install file. He can type a number of names, and knows how to type the correct things to login to the computer. He can hear an album once and then not again for nine months, and then when you do finally put it on again, just choosing some random song, he can tell you what it's called and what number it is and what band it is.

For instance, we listened to Nine Inch Nail's "Pretty Hate Machine" a ton a few months back while riding around in the car. Over a couple of weeks, we listened, but never really got past track eight or nine. Only one time did we listen to the last song. A few weeks later, I put the cd in again and my son says, "Daddy, can we hear number ten Ringfinger?" I didn't even realize what he was asking for because I hadn't listened to the whole album in years.

The point of all this is that my child rules, and yours drools. Okay, again, I'm being a bit facetious here, but isn't it the right of every parent to be highly biased in favor of their child? I think it is, and I hope if you are a parent that you are as well.

It's like that Mars Volta song, you know, the one. Now, if I could only find that Mars Volta record, I'd look up the song title. I guess It'd be easier to just go ask my son what it's called. I'm sure it'd be quicker.

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You Were So Hot in High School...Now You Are a Joke

The other day I was driving up the road. I swear that I saw this girl from high school. She was walking along the sidewalk. She still had the big 90s haircut that you could land a plane on, and looked to be about two hundred pounds. No, she wasn't particularly tall. She was five-five I'd guess. She was pretty chunky for a thirty-or-so-year-old woman, and I had to laugh to myself.

I mean, this girl was the hottest chick around in high school. I remember telling my friend, just before starting High School, that I had found out this girl was going to my school instead of his. He was so jealous, and I actually managed to become friends with her over the years, and even dated her younger sister for a bit.

My point in all this is that it's funny how the power pendulum swings. I mean, this girl had anything she wanted as a teenager because of her looks. Every guy wanted her, teachers were nicer to her than other people, and because she had an older boyfriend she got to go to the cool parties and ride around in his car starting at like fourteen. Girls hated her (not to her face of course), and guys wanted her.

Now, that older bad-boy boyfriend is probably some overweight construction worker that she has to avoid having sex with every night, while her six rug rats snore through their snot in their beds and on the couch. Or she desperately posts to craigslist searching for a "relationship" when she knows that only means "sex" to the guys that would respond. They probably bring home twenty-five thousand between the two of them per year, and live near the place I saw her walking.

Now, the guys like me that she would hardly give the time to in high school are getting degrees and have careers that are worth something to society and to themselves financially. Guys like me are the guys these girls desperately seek now, but can't find. I loved when I heard these women say in high school, "Where are all the nice guys?" We were right where we always were, home alone on the weekends wishing that girl would talk to us more while she was out with that jerk of a boyfriend. We always got to hear them complain about him Monday morning.

Well now the power has shifted, and you are lonely and prowling craigslist for us. Well, guess what? We've been taken by a woman better, prettier, smarter, funnier and more caring than you. We're poets, musicians, career men, family guys, artists, and just overall good guys.

Your time has passed now that your teen-beauty has passed. It's our turn to have our pick of whom to be with.

Think of that the next time that greasy guy is breathing down your neck.

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