this whole thing read like conversation with bluecoward.
It all made perfect sense for brief moments! I swear. It's like... art, dood. LSD palimpsests: evocative, even redolent of flame wars past.
Don't you love the smell of napalm in the morning?
You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for twelve hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like - victory.