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From: K4YZ on Jun 7, 9:28 pm
You want to make good-and-sure that EVERYONE knows what a stain you are on Veterans everywhere, don't you, Lennie. Lennie Anderson...ex-Army radio mechaninc, and defiler of the sacrifices of his "fellow" Veterans. A scumbag. ...the sun sets on the Tomb of the Unknown Solder as a solitary figure in a patch-adorned flight suit slowly paces out his lonely path of anger, J-38 in one hand, bayonetted USMC soldering iron in the other. Pre-recorded marine marches softly fill the air, interspersed with dits and dahs of a few PCTA morsebirds not yet extinct. The Tomb of the Unknown Solder is a lonely place, deep in the valley of neuroses, anger, and frustration. The single sentinel counts cadennce to himself, muttering "flux you, flux you" between the slow steps. His fists are clenched, eager to do bottle but only sipping a cup of unkindness. It is sad but the sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknown Solder keeps going. He does not know why and that is the tragedy. The sun slowly sets on the Tomb of the Unknown Solder leaving only the red light of fire in the eyes of the muttering sentinel. Those glow in the dark like LED pilot lights. Hatred lives on in his twilight of despair. Temper fry. |
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From: "K4YZ" on Jun 8, 5:14 am
I didn't get any farther than this to see what yet anotehr moronic anti-Amateur Radio rant this was. Yet another validation of my claim that Leonard H. Anderson is a chronic, pathological liar. ...the sun sets on the Tomb of the Unknown Solder as a solitary figure in a patch-adorned flight suit slowly paces out his lonely path of anger, J-38 in one hand, bayonetted USMC soldering iron in the other. Pre-recorded marine marches softly fill the air, interspersed with dits and dahs of a few PCTA morsebirds not yet extinct. The Tomb of the Unknown Solder is a lonely place, deep in the valley of neuroses, anger, and frustration. The single sentinel counts cadennce to himself, muttering "flux you, flux you" between the slow steps. His fists are clenched, eager to do bottle but only sipping a cup of unkindness. It is sad but the sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknown Solder keeps going. He does not know why and that is the tragedy. The sun slowly sets on the Tomb of the Unknown Solder leaving only the red light of fire in the eyes of the muttering sentinel. Those glow in the dark like LED pilot lights. Hatred lives on in his twilight of despair. Temper fry. |
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