Quoth the philbot:

Just grease the bastards. Who'll miss them?

How many hundreds of hours of hard-won experience with first-person shootups, PlayStation game controller clutched in one chubby fist and a nutritious snack laden with high-fructose goodness in the other, must this insight represent?

Ah, little Phil, I was raised by a USMC gunnery sergeant who cut his teeth in the South Pacific during the unpleasantness there sixty years ago (Guadalcanal to Guam, followed by several months' recuperation from his wounds in a military hospital) and who, unlike you, has killed men made of blood rather than phosphors. To this day he speaks with loathing of the Japanese, but also with a horror, informed by memory rather than canned fantasy, at the ordeal of war.

But he never had marlowe's, ah, advantages.

cordially,

[Edit: repetition]