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In it he is clutching a machine gun, surrounded by Marines. troops in Ramadi, a Humvee Dollard was riding in was struck by a bomb.
Dressed in combat gear, his hair in a Mohawk and the word “die” shaved into his chest hair, Dollard looks like the mascot of camp Lord of the Flies. Dollard sits across from me at a hotel restaurant near the Los Angeles airport, tearing into a breakfast of waffles, bacon, and black coffee while talking about his ambition to become a “conservative icon, the Michael Moore of the right.” He is well on his way, thanks in no small part to a terrible incident that occurred last February in Iraq. Two Marines were killed, but Dollard—in keeping with a streak of freakishly good luck—was thrown clear from the fiery wreckage and emerged unharmed but for a two-inch cut on his right leg.
An ambulance was called immediately and police arrested the man at the pool.
He told police during interrogation that he knew he had made “a huge mistake” and that he had left a “big scar on the boy”.
Also in need of attention is a wretched cough, which sounds like a snow shovel scraping on the sidewalk.