The Marshals Posse

In the History of Warfare that I have been working on my entire life I have discovered a few things that might be of interest and they concern the Art of Warfare. It’s a psychotic looking picture where each brush stroke reveals the chaos of the artist and the deep withdraw from life that they endure everyday as they wander about wondering where and when the urge to paint another portrait of blood and guts across the landscape will possess them and bring about a cause to find reason in a world that seems on the verge of exploding into disorder and disarray right before their eyes but, not always, sometimes the painting is a series of delicate brushstrokes that depict the characterizations of the people the artist feels are responsible for the condition they feel causes them to think they must systematically eliminate anyone that will not conform to the beauty that is found when everyone is in compliance and serving the greater service of community fellowship. Since, I am a Marshal but I have no Posse because I have never been trusted to form one by legal means I am only guessing at what the Psychotic and the Sociopath think about when they feel the need to create and set about doing so right before me while I watch and ask them why it is they feel the way they do about life. I had been asked to be this person a very long time ago by a great many people and this person I am describing that must try to help someone make a decision that doesn’t end in death but might end up jailing and should end up with a celebration of having turned someone from a life of crime to a life of productive work building a place where everyone will enjoy living and sharing what they have with anyone with little to no obligation for the favor except the agreement that it is all for the best and there is nothing better in the way of a plan on how to get it done because it all comes from the heart and has organized the mind of humankind in a great way.

And when all else fails just the person to say to the nuts get to steppin or you’re going to wish it was a bed you fell asleep on you fruitcake.

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