Date: December 12th, 2019 6:28 PM Author: Milky patrolman native
Have you ever stared down the hot barrel of a pulsating Mk-12 near-in defense system fully calibrated and lubricated to track, risk rank, and meet all incoming threats that would present themselves to attempt to violate the sacred air and waterspace of a Carrier Strike Group steaming full power + 5% toward the Gulf of Aiden to bring American manifest destiny to the shores of some benighted foreign principality lacking both learning and erudition and in painful, toe curling need of some measure of western humanistic upbringing--the barrel was made by an honest man named John O'Connor who grew up in an A-frame house silhouetted by poplars and a dog running through the verdant effervescent green grass in the midstream of his life and a paper delivery boy and, every other Tuesday, an earnest and godfearing milkman who just happened to occasionally volunteer for mathematical exegesis duty at the local university on Thursdays because it tickled his fancy and expanded his mind? There's your answer.