.incidental.

When I was little I played with everybody.
I played with everybody; they were all kids just like me. They weren’t
CATHOLIC
JEWISH
BLACK
GREEN.
They were just kids like me, and we had a good time.

GROWN-UPs were always right;
they’d say “what do you know you’re only 9.”
It’s a funny way to put it, “what do you know you’re only 9.”
I’d say, “we’re having a good time,”
and they’d say “we don’t want you to play with him. He’s Catholic, Jewish, black.”
I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.
That’s the truth;
and they were getting all mad and everything at me.
The GROWN-UPs.
So I went outside, and John wanted to play with me.
I said, “I can’t play with you. The grown-ups tell me you’re Catholic.”
That is where it begins.

If we teach our children to be like us,
“You must believe what we believe.
What do you know you’re 9.
We give you food, clothing, and shelter.
You better believe what we believe.”
That’s done in every culture, and so the separation begins.

During the Vietnam War, I saw a poster.
The poster was a magnificent looking photograph
of a mountain side with all beautiful flowers
and on the top of the poster it said,
“What if they gave a war and nobody came?”
And that started me thinking.

While the grown-ups are rattling sabers at each other
(they do, the grown-ups do that)
I’m only 17. I’m still in school,
and the grown-ups on both sides are going to shoot each other.
That’s not an opinion, that’s not an idea.
That’s nothing to agree with or disagree with.
It’s a fact.
At 9 years old, I see that.
But the grown-ups on both sides want to give me a reason for why they do that.
And they also tell me they love me.

I wanna make a movie,
I’d put comedy in it as well—
the grown-ups response to children.
I'd be a kid, at 17,
I’d say,
“FUCK YOU. I’m in school. I didn’t start this. You did.”
They’ll say, “Well I’m 50.”
“So? I’m 17. You go!”
“Well I went.
I went in the Second World War,
and I went in the Revolutionary War,
and I went in the Korean War.
Now it’s your turn to DIE...
We hope you don’t,
but if you come back missing an arm or a leg
we’ll fix you up.
We’ll send you to school, we’ll give you…"

They tell them:
"If there was no revolutionary war,
there’s no war against Hitler,
where would we be?"

The grown-ups do this to the children.
The children are brain washed,
like all of us who are conditioned to believe,
and they believe and we do after a while.
So it never ends.

When the kids come home
in body bags
or maimed,
they all cry.

They put flags over coffins,
they give them purple hearts,
put them on walls (like the Vietnam Wall).
The parents go and cry as they touch them.

I say, “What are you crying about?”
“Well he died, what are you talking about?”
I say, “Of course he died, you sent him.”

Very direct -- 9.
So that’s my story.
I’m 73 or 74 years old, but really, I’m 9.

Anonymous

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This is why you should ask strangers to tell you a story. =o)

Current Location: Library
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