(10 May 3049)

Apologies for the dry spell since last my kernels o’ wisdom dropped in your laps, gents. But if I ever find the sucker who left that bug on my ‘puter and crashed my system, he’s gonna be talking with my fist in his mouth. Shrug…them’s the breaks.

So I just saw the feed surrounding the kerfuffle of some hand-wringers trying to browbeat the War College of Goshen over their live-fire range. Are ya kidding?! Really? What do they think the college is about? Underwater basket weaving?! After all, gents, it does have “war” in its name.

Now you wanna be against war? I got no problems with that. Any soldier worth his salt would tell ya he’d rather be home with his kid on his knee, only worrying about the nuclear-poop-filled diaper he’s trying to avoid changin’. So if you’re against war on principle, I respect ya.

But this?! Being okay with war, but hand-wringin’ over how dangerous it is to train a soldier and do it right? Sure, Goshen isn’t the NAIS or the Robison Battle Academy…though that’s because they’re not pet schools of a blue-blood dripping with C-bills. But they’re still one of the best-kept secrets of the FedRats and I’d be wary of any warrior sportin’ that crest.

So they’re shooting live rounds? Who cares?! How many wet-behind-the-ears cadets have we all put into the ground on forgotten worlds, gents? How many because they weren’t as prepared as the Goshen are trying to make ‘em.

I say pull out yer head, shut up, and realize they’re trying to prep your sons and daughters for the hell o’ battle before a gauss round finds their cockpit.

Keep it locked and loaded, gents.

—Jacob Hardenson, MercNet