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To forget the past of your country is to be divorced from it, not a descendant of your ancestors but a vagrant that has disowned them.

When patriotism blinds prudence, ignores errors, and masks malice under scorn and exasperation, the nation can no longer be saved. Because at that point the citizen believes his country is above criticism, above error, above blemish merely for the sake of being. A patriot believes that by questioning the country to the contrary, one has committed a sacrilege of a quasi-religious nature. The irony is that the patriot does not see the critic as a citizen, himself, but a criminal. He does not view his query as valid, but slander. To all counter argument he rails his colors and beats his chest- no longer a citizen of responsibility but a political fanatic.

There are many, many dark spots in our countries own past. There are many, many problems in our countries present. There are many problems in our democratic process and the standards of living spread out both within a specific and across the varying demographics of it's citizenry. There are many problems with many institutions inside the country. You will hear about them everyday. But while some pay heed, some do not. Instead they sing songs of older, better times that never were. When the nation was full, golden, and whole when such never existed. They close their eyes, stuff their ears, and sing into the night. All they can say is 'long live the state'.

Such men are like old men. That he is sick and feeble, weak and frail, his body failing, but he cares not. He will walk in the rain if he wants to...he is a Man. He will eat what he wants to...he is a Man. It doesn't hurt...he is a Man. I don't need no doctor...I am a Man. I don't need medicine...there's nothing wrong. I don't need exercise...I'm strong. Pumped on ego, he has no weakness and no faults.

He is, indeed, a Man...dying. Wasting away in his own ignorance. But to him, it is a virtue. Perhaps he sees himself as a warrior...who knows. But I do know that on the front line, among warriors, patriots disappear and realists are born. Rhetoric dies and is, indeed, scorned. Among them such things earn derision because men now fight for a superstition they bleed for. In such a time the only warriors around are survivors.
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