The Aleutian lies    decaying    and decrepeit    at the bottom    of the Bering Strait.       The force of the waves    was too much for its walls,    but the captain called for more.    "Pour on another eighty thousand pounds," he cried,       "C'mon, bring it on.    Bring on another eighty thousand pounds to our already full load    so I can watch their suffocating bodies       make one final gasp at freedom before we tear those    motherfuckers apart."    As the ship sank to the bottom,       the attack took nine unexpected, nine human lives, and it's labeled    a tragedy. I call it revenge. Sweep your water across the hull; I can't stomach the sight.