Well guys, here it is, an excerpt from one of the elect...
A light sea wind ruffled his thinning hair.
"I am about to do a very un-ambassadorial thing," he declared. "I am about to
tell you what I really feel."
Perhaps Minton had inhaled too much acetone,
or perhaps he had an inkling of what was about to happen to everybody but me. At
any rate, it was a strikingly Bokononist speech he gave.
"We are gathered here, friends," he said, "to honour lo Hoon-yera Mora-toorz tut Zamoo-cratz-ya, children dead, all dead, all murdered in war. It is customary on days like this to call such children men. I am unable to call them men for this simple reason: that in the same war in which the Hundred Martyrs of Democracy died, my own son died. "My soul insists that I mourn not a man but a child.
"I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to die. To their
everlasting honour and our everlasting shame they do die like men, thus
making possible the manly jubilation of patriotic holidays.
"But they are murdered children all the same.
"And I propose to you that if we are to pay our sincere respects to the hundred lost children of San Lorenzo, that we might best spend the day despising what killed them; which is to say, the stupidity and viciousness of all mankind.
"Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns."
Soo, it kind of turns out that that's a pretty odd piece of the book. Most of it made me laugh ridiculously hard...that just happens to be my favourite speech in the book. Annnyhow, I'd still recommend it. Just don't put it down if you're on a plane.