"NEVER too late"

The homo sapie-brained leader of the Western Lemming digs extolls his followers to continue their relentless march over the cliff. Stay the course.

"It is never too late to support our troops in a fight they can win," he cheerfully explained to his yes can-do admirers. "It is never too late to advance freedom."

Of course the absolutism of "NEVER too late" will not help the troops pictured above. This is a fight they cannot win. They are gone forever from this reality-based plane of existence.

The optimistic delusionism of "NEVER too late" will not help the mothers of the troops pictured above. Those mothers raised "the troops" from little babies to strappingly fine grown men. They changed their diapers. They wiped the tears. They stayed awake through the feverish nights of youth's illness and they waited anxiously by the window for Johnny to come marching home from his first date out with the girl next door.

Then one day there came the cattle call from the cowboy leader for the grown and educated young men to serve the "noble cause". They gladly went. Hands over patriotic hearts. Eyes affixed on a waving flag of blood red stripes and saintly white aisles keeping them apart. "A uniter, not a divider," he said. A field of stars clung to flag's edge to navigate them towards their ultimate sacrifice. Yes it was a noble leap forward into fate's hand. Every young lemming feels the surge during the rush of a spring day's race toward greener pastures.

But for the homo-sapien mothers, it is too late. For the lifeless bodies of their dead young sons, it is too late.