A Waltz with War

Nations, Religions and people are never defined without war. War is a depressing cliché of human lives. People kill, people die. And a lot of monstrousness and heroism prelude, intervene and epilogue the killing and the dying, alike. But that is an incomplete perspective - a part-illusive, second hand viewpoint suited to oblivious audiences watching war on their television sets.
For those who fight in a war, war is a nihilistic expression of a self-destructive species of well, assholes. And the only emotion that is ever associated with war is one of the most primal ones - guilt.
Relief, Pain, Patriotic goose pimples, rejuvenation, excitement and such Californian sentiments can only qualify life outside of war; inside of war they're as impotent as your grandfather.
And how the fuck do I know all that? Well, I saw Waltz with Bashir. I could write a pointless review to tell you how great the movie is, but you'd just end up superficially appreciating the review, Facebook-ing and moving on to your clichéd lives, probably in that order. Stop wondering why the writer is being holier-than-thou, and if you can, PLEASE go watch the fucking movie.