The Ultimate Orgy

And so did I begin to feel as if ser­vice to my coun­try was more of a dis­ser­vice to myself. Bur­dened with the small-​​mindedness and petty tyranny of lost souls, I found noth­ing here which even remotely appeared to build char­ac­ter. Instead, I felt as if I were being used by a bunch of self-​​serving old cronies—whitened sep­ul­chers who had dressed them­selves up in priestly garb, pre­tend­ing to be ser­vants of the people.

Only this sup­posed ser­vice of the peo­ple was, in real­ity, all a big lie, a mon­strous cover-​​up for one big self-​​serving orgy meant to whip its novices into a frenzy for the ulti­mate orgy—for the blood bath of bat­tle. It was the reen­act­ment of an age old drama in which an offended Olympian God­dess stirs the pas­sions of her defend­ers, in an ini­ti­a­tion rite of intox­i­cat­ing drink and sex­ual orgy, to avenge her honor, that she might retain her hold on the minds of men who needed her as much as she did them to keep such bloody rit­u­als from dying out.

Sens­ing this way of life was not meant for me nor for any­one else as I saw it, I wanted off this ship of fools, or rite of pas­sage to hell, but was instead taken out to sea.