Deep Fried Sacrifices

Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. You won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.

***** General George Patton

"Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory."

***** General George Patton

"Many soldiers are led to faulty ideas of war by knowing too much about too little."

***** General George Patton

My mental faculties remained in suspended animation while I obeyed the orders of the higher-ups. This is typical with everyone in the military.

Major General Smedley Butler

War is a racket. It is the only one international in scope. It is the only one in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives.

Major General Smedley Butler

"To the victor belong the spoils."

Senator William Marcy

"The papacy is ours. Let us enjoy it!"

Pope Leo X (Upon winning vote for Papacy)

And so it goes, you need "poor dumb bastards" to go and kill other "poor dumb bastards" so those who are not poor dumb bastards can collect spoils, booty and victory. Homer Simpson at this point would go "D'OH!", not enlightened but entranced, nay titillated by the spectacle of getting his brass ring around some guys war club. War is about making money, ie dough, and to make it you need "doughboys". Doughboys are poor dumb bastards who know too much about too little who obey zombie like with mental faculties in suspended animation.

Who then is the cook, the chef, the maker, and eater of this victory cake? Those who actually profit from the war...exactly as Pope Leo X said. No doughboy gets to eat the victory cake he gets a cheap plated medal and a lifetime of 'I wish I could forget' memories. The chef / eater however will have a full table, servants, lots of booty, skin and dough, super posh surroundings, and no bad memories, afterall he was way way way back of the action.

The doughboy, mindless servant that he is, acquires a taste for killing, and the chef acquires a taste for more dough, both become bottomless pits. Everyonce in awhile the doughboy awakes from the nightmare of all those killed, thinking it was only a dream, and arises to find a cup of joe to dispel the nightmare. The doughboy has the nightmare over and over and may feel hell to pay for what hes done, but as usual its off to find panacea. And what panacea could be more delightful that a doughnut? Stuffing stuffing stuffing in some more the doughboy eventually becomes what he eats. A little or not so little 'oil ball' appeases this Father Christmas like spirit, the chef of the arrangement, by being a good little boy or girl, or else epiphany turns to burning embers. This house of war, filled with eater and eaten, is strangely lit from on high by an oil, that lights so as not to enlighten, but to stupify. The chef eats the victory cake which in reality is donuts bowing down, down, down to a story that enchants the doughboys and ensures the chefs dough.

Would there be this warlike feast if the doughboys didnt serve the chef's desire for dough? Dont worry doughboy afterall its all in your head and that delightful morsel in your mouth doesn't exist. Has it always been we are feeding our children into the mouth of our unconquered selves, an idols answer? Such is the fertile riddle of a snake with its tail in its mouth! or is it a donut? In the end we decide what we swallow and never forget it is a magical world inspite of the DO-NUTS!