Toy Soldiers and Little Boy Soldiers: A Lengthy Preamble
The intimacies of life as a child in a military academy is an inexplicable world to anyone that has not experienced it; kind of like being a Black Person in the United States. I was raised by a US Marine and attended military school as a very young child. I attended the renowned Southern California Military Academy. I attended Page as well; but my father quickly withdrew me. That is a story for the ages, but will not be told now.
Despite the blight that Donald “Smitty” Trump, and the collective ignorant aggregate, casts upon military academies, many of those institutions, especially SCMA, were for gifted students to prepare for leadership. And, sad as it might be in practical terms, Smitty Trump is a perverted, albeit sick, perfect example of this fact. They were not some mythologized punishment. Not at all. Given my parentage it was an extension of what was, and what was expected.
But it was weird, in immense retrospect.
Little boys that could go from executing an about face or make a flank move with a crispness akin to sticking a landing in gymnastics, to being fluent in foreign languages by age 12, we were still little boys. Little boys that learned “I’m a hoe” (IMAO=Improvise Modify Adapt and Overcome). In that intense environment, down time was nirvana.
Each Friday there would be inspection; and I mean inspection that went from excess Brasso on your belt buckle to damn near counting the hairs on one’s ass. I, with stupendous pride and supreme arrogance, can say that I never failed an inspection. Not-fucking-once. In fact, I was often used (particularly as one of few Black cadets) as a spectacle at platoon front. An effective psychological, tactical, and slightly racist, move which is another essay.
Passing inspection meant “canteen.” Oh happy day! You see, we lived in a very different world. Not a world of excess (other than academic), distraction or even junk food. There were no “chips” on campus. There were no toys; you played with toys when you went home. But we were still little boys. Little boys need toys and play with them, in one way, shape or form, throughout their entire lives and if there are none…they will manufacture some. Trust me, however reluctantly.
On Canteen Day, we would go to what amounted to a quartermaster/store. Our parents would place money into an account every semester. Whether or not you could exercise that privilege depended on a lot of things: grades, inspections, merits/demerits, etc. I always went to canteen despite being a bit of a rogue in certain ways. My redeeming qualities were potent enough to keep my ass out of the fire most of the time, but not all of the time.
Alas, some things never change.
Since children scale expectations to regimen and environment, we had only a few candy items (I liked Jujy Fruits), paper, stencils, certain pens and book delivery from the SBC (Scholastic Book Club). I can still remember the excitement of getting that package of books I had ordered weeks before. It was one of the best times of my life…in a narrow respect.
Canteen would occur early morning. By late afternoon when classes wound down we would often have a “free period.” During this time we would sit at our desks and make these elaborate illustrations of planes in the air with bombs falling from them, mushroom clouds in the background, and an active battlefield. We made these drawings pencil on paper and would marvel at who had the best one. It was our version of a video game. A lot of the cadets collected old WWII medals (including Nazi medallions) and roleplayed accordingly. I did not simply because I did not understand it. Nonetheless, this is how we entertained ourselves.
Pursuant to this academic environment which included civics, military history and ethics (what an effing hodgepodge) we were hyper-attuned to world affairs. At ten, 11 and 12 years old, we were aware of the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (S.A.L.T.). We discussed them, our instructors made sure we discussed them. We saw films on nuclear weapons. We had field trips to artillery ranges/firings. We went to tour submarines and military bases. We had “drop drills.” And, as much as we were little boys being indoctrinated for war, there is one thing that horrified us all and that was: nuclear weapons.
As a little boy I can remember being terrified of them, yet always fascinated by them. I am now just an older version of that little boy. I know how nuclear weapons work and believe me when I tell you there are “loose nukes.” Any freshman physics student can make one within a year as long as they obtain Uranium-235. It was a mere 20 years ago when the US Pentagon warned of “suitcase nukes.” Something that can be carried in a backpack. Oh, you forgot? ‘Tis my distinct pleasure to remind thee.
For the record, the “suitcase” nuke was utter fabricated horseshit “made in the U.S.A.” and its stench currently lingers in Iran.
Missing In Action
I tend to think of myself as a moderately intelligent person, though that might be for my own amusement if not outright folly. Nonetheless, up until the current US administration the word nuclear was as taboo as saying something negative about Israel. For better or worse, you just did not, or could not, do it. Period.
Unless you are a rogue.
For the past 96 hours I have marveled at how nuclear weapons are almost discussed daily, and in a most cavalier fashion. This is some manner of conditioning that I’ve yet to accurately assess. Then, I realize that anyone under 40 years old likely has no idea of what nuclear warheads really are. That is problematic, to put it mildly.
On September 22, 2026, President Smitty Trump delivered a speech at the 81st United Nations General Assembly in New York, where he openly mused about “annihilating” the Islamic Republic and driving the nation “into hell.” The comments were made during an ongoing, seven-month unprovoked attack on Iran by the US and Israel. The United States—the world’s sole nation to ever deploy nuclear weapons in warfare, on civilians—operates under a stark geopolitical hypocrisy, using “Amerikan exceptionalism” to justify threats of total annihilation while proselytizing and policing the rest of the globe. Trump’s recent U.N. ultimatum to drive Iran “into hell,” his 2026 vow that a whole civilization would die, and his infamous 2018 boast of a “bigger” nuclear button against North Korea are not isolated outbursts, but the raw execution of hegemonic intimidation. The danger is exquisite.
Ghetto 101
Where I grew up the one thing you did not do was run your mouth and tell somebody what you were going to do to them; especially in terms of harm as there were far better ways to commit suicide. Barking about what you are going to do was, and remains, a fatal tactical error. It invites a preemptive strike because threats mean deaths. Smitty is breaking the most fundamental rule of survival by loudly running his Kentucky Fried Chicken eating mouth and broadcasting an ultimatum of “annihilation” to a very nervous world.
No matter beast, any animal is at its most dangerous when it is frightened. The most dangerous animal on planet Earth is the human animal. Ergo, if one does the math, a scared man is the most dangerous thing known…to man. The so-called West, particularly Trump and US, relies on exceptionalism to issue reckless threats. This is not a projection of power or strength, all it achieves is breeding desperation in its adversaries.
Smitty Trump treating global politics like a theater for empty posturing is indicative of failed leadership. Policy, and rhetoric, that can only be traced to stupidity and a lack of life experience. It completely fails to realize that a cornered, terrified opponent is the most unpredictable and dangerous entity on earth.
While the U.S. and its allies routinely condemn non-Western states for aggressive posturing, Washington openly uses the threat of human extinction as a diplomatic lever, ignoring the reality that other nuclear powers—including Russia, Pakistan, India, and China—have structurally adapted to this hostile arena by issuing their own terrifying, survival-driven existential warnings. This is beyond dangerous. It is a retarded failure to learn a basic life lesson. Whether the average person in the US (whatever that is) knows it or not I cannot say, but if Trump is not reigned in he is going to get a lot of “us,” and our children, killed.
Period.
I really appreciate your essays, brother Rohn
thank you, sir ~
I wonder if Donny and his handpicked totally unqualified cronies, including Pete Kegseth, know about the results of, or even heard of for that matter, the 1983 "Proud Prophet" war games played at the National War College, where simulated limited nuclear attacks 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 resulted in complete annihilation for both sides. Perhaps if they did, there would a bit less bravado and even perhaps the slightest urgency for peace, even if only to preserve the person Donny loves the most... himself.