![]() ![]() ![]() The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. Still less room is there for those who deride of slight what is done by those who actually bear the brunt of the day nor yet for those others who always profess that they would like to take action, if only the conditions of life were not exactly what they actually are. Among the free peoples who govern themselves there is but a small field of usefulness open for the men of cloistered life who shrink from contact with their fellows. Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood who strives valiantly who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming but who does actually strive to do the deeds who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions who spends himself in a worthy cause who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. There is no more unhealthy being, no man less worthy of respect, than he who either really holds, or feigns to hold, an attitude of sneering disbelief toward all that is great and lofty, whether in achievement or in that noble effort which, even if it fails, comes to second achievement. There are many men who feel a kind of twister pride in cynicism there are many who confine themselves to criticism of the way others do what they themselves dare not even attempt. I didn’t yet understand any of that.“The poorest way to face life is to face it with a sneer. Things: protecting their career, advancing their career, or ruining mine. Onset, each participant in this charade was motivated by one of three Not that anyone seemed to be concerned with the truth. ![]() Of by a jury of my peers, except one for taking a picture with an enemy Charges I would eventually be found not guilty OnlyĪfter President Trump intervened would I eventually be moved to less restrictive pretrial confinement in order to assist in my own defense on false charges of war crimes. To my family, friends, legal team and medical care severely limited. Next six and a half months, housed with child molesters and rapists, access I had no idea at the time that I would remain in that prison for the Slammed shut, leaving me alone with my confusion and shock. Wrists, more out of reflex than from pain. Turn around.” Each command echoed in theĬramped, cinder-block cell. Carefully, the guards approached fromīehind and removed my leg irons. “On your knees,” one of the guards ordered. I was ushered inside claustrophobic concrete “Yep,” he nodded, then I heard a buzz and he yanked open a cell in the Did he expect me to answer? Was he going to tell ![]() While still maintaining an aura of smugness. He looked nervous, as if transporting Hannibal Lector, “Know why you’re here?” I turned to the guard who had addressed me.Ī pudgy chief. Were they afraid I’d do? I’d later learn each time they moved me those first Sloppy guards in a heightened state walked closely on either side. They led me down a dingy hallway underneath dim fluorescent lights. The jumpsuit I had been supplied was three sizes too big and hung loosely over prison-issued tightywhities. Leg irons winding up to wrist cuffs,Ĭhains rattling as I shuffled through intake. Naval Consolidated Brig Miramar, San Diego, CA ![]()
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