"That's not PC.

  And that's not morally correct either." The man winced.  Another man came back into "the room" that was being packed up and asked, "What is he bubbering about?" 

  Nobody wanted to speak for anyone else just then.  Geopolitically it was do or die.  For Christians it was "spiritual armor" head to toe.  As human beings on the poles of planet earth, it was the fragility of a bodily consciousness without applying some might to win against death.  "Let me ask you something sonny?" The older man said more like a demand than a question.  The younger man still with darts stuck in his winter clothing bitterly responded, Shoot. 

  "What do you call your ass?" 

  "Excuse me." 

  "Your buttocks.  What do you call them?" 

  The younger man's jitters seemed to dissolve in a shoulder stress to floor little laugh.  "And don't tell me you call yours a dare-ee-air," the older man said.  "That would tell me something about you, I don't wanna know."  The mild front of the younger man was already tiger minding, feeling for intellect still in tact even though captured.  "I guess a sister or some cousin once called my ass a hine-y." 

  "Okay," the older man put a hand on the younger's shoulder and plucked at some of the darts stuck in the man.  "So, I need you to consider this, right now, as the alternative to one nation under God." One of the darts was more embedded than the others, where there was not protective covering of "bullet proof" vest over flesh.  The younger man had felt that one.  It had messed with the strokes of his skiing.  He thought through an hour or so of sixty minutes of world power in action.  Brushed off feeling pain.  "Do you think you could get your hine-y past those robot dogs?" 

  The silence was not silence to a "room" only hushing heavy, icy snowfall and the top of the hierarchical world's most powerful people clamoring to have a war because that's what they do, activating that part of the perpetual cycle.  

  "Guy's all muscle," the older man told a woman sticking head into privacy to make sure cleared. 

  "We'll follow you," the older man said to the far-away gaze at life-and-death-war and slight nod.