O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Monday, September 17, 2007
There go the profits
Blackwater has had their license pulled. Such are the vagaries of the merc lifestyle.
I'm sure the "government" will find some place to use them; hurricane relief, Dafur, coup de ta.