The Problem with Pulling out of Vietnam too quickly
September 6th 2008 23:20
Certainly, you, as uninfirmed as you are, and I, as effusive as I am, know that the war our boys are raging to fight the yelling peril in Vietnam is headed for eminent stale-meat, say civil war boofs.
"Certainly, this war, and it is - we have guns and planes and they have holes with sharp sticks, almost pencils - is about as civil as they come, for certain," said Johnny on the spit, getting cooked on all sides, as speculation mountaineered over the repercussions of a sudden withdrawal from the war torn piece of land with borders on all sides.
Certainly, the only treason anyone in the West - a fast monolith of labial demicritic volumes - cries for the people of Vietnam, tiny yelling types barely accustomed to the concrete jingle, is because her people have loved us long time.
If we were to suddenly get the hell out of their, quick smirk, the consequences would be diabolical for the West - a bunch of suits with ties and shy shoes and I think you stopped in something, but I don't know how to tell you without embarrassing you, and hang on, my fly's undone, and that's no good for anyone.
If I was to tell you a bunch of stuff, in no particular odour, that had happened to these loving people of Vietnam, a loving people not to be trusted one bit and just ask those pillows of literal democracy, the French, you'd probably lean out of your window, see a dog poo on your law and become irate.
Now, here's the kicker, the bit where I finish off with something for you to thank about - please think me later, because right now I have to tell you about how fastly interior you are in the light of my stunning bunions. I might add a short sentence that is nothing short of ghostly. Now, run along and straighten your toes.
"Certainly, this war, and it is - we have guns and planes and they have holes with sharp sticks, almost pencils - is about as civil as they come, for certain," said Johnny on the spit, getting cooked on all sides, as speculation mountaineered over the repercussions of a sudden withdrawal from the war torn piece of land with borders on all sides.
Certainly, the only treason anyone in the West - a fast monolith of labial demicritic volumes - cries for the people of Vietnam, tiny yelling types barely accustomed to the concrete jingle, is because her people have loved us long time.
If we were to suddenly get the hell out of their, quick smirk, the consequences would be diabolical for the West - a bunch of suits with ties and shy shoes and I think you stopped in something, but I don't know how to tell you without embarrassing you, and hang on, my fly's undone, and that's no good for anyone.
If I was to tell you a bunch of stuff, in no particular odour, that had happened to these loving people of Vietnam, a loving people not to be trusted one bit and just ask those pillows of literal democracy, the French, you'd probably lean out of your window, see a dog poo on your law and become irate.
Now, here's the kicker, the bit where I finish off with something for you to thank about - please think me later, because right now I have to tell you about how fastly interior you are in the light of my stunning bunions. I might add a short sentence that is nothing short of ghostly. Now, run along and straighten your toes.
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