This is a translation. Original post: http://mikiencolor.wordpress.com/2009/08/06/perros-de-pelea/
They want soldiers, not companions.
They want men, not humans.
Violent, rough, brutes, not lovers, manly men in a perpetual search for blood and submissive female to mount. Implacable to compete, violent to war, fierce to triumph and make proud.
Warriors and conquered is that they want, not citizens. Warriors to invade and subjugate. Sociopaths to execute without a second thought, dead from the waist up to do what needs to be done, not empathic beings with whom to share. Love is conquest, they say, which is consummated by invasion. Conquest, invasion, occupation.
Rough, harsh for working is how they want us, and productive. Disgusting, repugnant, vomitous, repulsive, that’s how they want us. Frightening, terrifying, not sweet, not fearful. Dangerously handsome they want us, not impotent and ugly, soldiers in reserve forever ready for a fight.
Warriors to war with other warriors they want, survivors to initiate future warriors, executioners to educate future executioners, an endless cycle of tyrants, experts in pain and cruelty, they want. Fighting dogs, that’s all they want. What shame gentleness causes them. What contempt they feel for tenderness. Fighting bulls, they want, not docile. Fierce bulls for the ring, bread and circus and unappealable insanity, that’s what they want.
Where are the objectors? Where are you? This is some hell.