Okay, Happy Birthday, MARINES!

Probably one of the few things I am jealous of the US Marine Corps is that they really know how to celebrate their birthday - the Army has buried its under Flag Day I think, and for some reason they don't know how to party.

So today, for a force that began in a tavern, Happy Birthday! from a former paratrooper, who was always glad to be shot at along side you, wouldn't have wished it any other way.

Just looking at the morning news.... rain... here?

Oh, yeah, the weather for November may be a bit late but it is coming in today, the National Weather map has washed us out with floods and rain. So I drive the Caravan, and walk to the dock directly. As I walk I find a doe about fifteen feet from me, looking at me like I am crazy - she is in the middle of a condo apartment complex and she thinks I am crazy. Well, I do start talking to her, she doesn't know I have my hunting license, but she is kind of stringy, not much on the thighs at all - must be on one of those strange American model diets. But, like real females in my life, as soon as I start talking she turns her head away and starts strutting off to find a finer male... I really ought to take time off and go hunt - the barber in Steilacoom had his shop closed up for deer one weekend and elk another. Well, the walk was good, the work fine. The rains and the wind started beating on Washington and about 11:00 AM the announcement was made that the Still Harbor schedule was in effect.

Still Harbor is on the North side of McNeil Island, a nice harbor, and the seals love it. So because of the fear of getting stuck on an island with terrible weather -- a lot of people left. After lunch the announcements of what was closed, classes canceled, and there was only the State Library (ME!) open for business. Two very packed periods, but the last one was light, but until Recall I was there. The weather did let up a bit, and the ferry came back to normal operations by the time I was leaving, still for only a minute or the afternoon I was still there helping the inmates prepare for re-entry to the community.

I did notify the entire State Library that if they were coming to visit me that the ferry schedule was changed and I attached a copy of it. But no one ever comes, I am always reminded of that famous short story about an outpost, watching the frontier for the enemy, and because the commanders don't come out to visit, inspect nor reward the guards --- the guards feel more friendly to the constantly advancing enemy that at least know he is alive... it will be Veteran's Day soon, don't forget all those that you have sent out to those frontiers to watch and war on our enemies.

Wandering, copying and posting for y'all...

I really liked this. Since I really hadn't thought about where Laconic reply came from. I learn so much from the internet and am missing breakfast. Thanks to J. Huff.

This October is hard on old guys....

Facebook picture of Earl being cared for by Kum Cha after running his head into a tree while chasing a ball hit by some of that next next generation, sister sitting nearby, Florida (yes, it is colder here in Washington, and WET).

Just wanted you to know, they were paying attention

I check what is written, and blog posts, and I watch for real people I would have loved. Got to be happy in life, there are so many Great Ones. Yeah, and he knew about shooting, well and for cause. Hope Heaven is happy, another good one to man the walls, watch from the towers and hold back the darkness.

Do read the story about the M1.

Those that jump into danger in the dark...

June 5, folks. John Wayne pretends to be a leader of Airborne troops hoping for a break in the weather and gets it (it was only a movie about real people doing the best they could). Never loaded up for a night jump has our President Obama, nope. I was lucky that I got to do many go out in the dark from the back of the perfectly good aircraft doing NAP of the Earth until time to bounce up to jump altitude. Nothing particularly brave about a paratrooper, they gave him twenty-five dollars for the danger, the glider riders got zip and had to worry about bad landings. Still everyone on the fifth of June, in the aircraft, on the ships, in the gliders going towards Normandy, France, knew this was the calm before the storm. Many had been in combat in Africa and Sicily, but most hadn't, they were trained and they knew the Germans were waiting and they knew what the grinding war was like in Italy where the defenses had been built up. It was dark and tomorrow would bring what tomorrow wasn't telling, the orders were clear, the beaches named, the drop zones identified, the weapons and equipment checked and counted, the lean was forward and those really ready were going to sleep until they were called to perform, the lightly nervous were quietly boasting or counting off their pre-attack mantra - stuffing fear in the back of the mind and mentally performing heroic feats for their fellows.

I once read about a paratrooper's account of his first jump, and all the things he thought of that he could have been doing if he weren't in the aircraft getting ready to do a fool thing like jump out of it, trusting his parachute and the jump master - then trying to remember all they had told him, drilled into him and preached at him and forgetting it as fast as he remembered and they called out "Ten Minutes!" and the drill was now the exercise. They were all getting ready for that point where the drill became the exercise and the attack was on and wouldn't stop for a debriefing or anything. Leaning forward, waiting for the ramp to drop, leaning forward holding the static line and keeping the equipment bag, ammo and rifle from fouling up on another paratrooper's gear - had to get out the door, leaning forward towards the jump. Nope, our current President wasn't there, he is too young. And although he honors those that were, the living and the dead - he doesn't understand why they went, he hasn't ever had to pay the price for living as an American, he probably thinks those serving in uniform today are doing it professionally for the money. But I know better, they have had to pay the price and understand the cost and they are leaning forward --- just hoping that there is some one watching their back, investing their lives, loves and sacrifices in important points for American Freedom.

Yep, everyone will concentrate on the D-Day Invasion of Normandy, France - 6 June, 1944, but I will honor the calm courage and preparation in meditation that was done on 5 June as they leaned forward ready to give everything they had, in the dark, in the water, up the beach and the cliffs to the hedgerows and on to victory or death. Considering the Economic Crisis, the Education Crisis, the Homeland Defense Crisis and the "can't we all get along?" crisis --- I am much more at home with those leaning forward preparing to attack for all the best of reasons than those hiding behind the headlines, or the media spotlight, hiding in plain sight.

Just a quick note about being...

a dangerous old man. The Appleseed Shoots tell stories about the 19th of April, 1775, and a couple of the favorites are about Dangerous Old Men. But visiting some blogs have made me aware that the real gun toting crowd isn't just about guns and bullets, but exercising the whole body to train for the need how ever the situation breaks. It isn't just malfunction drill, or dummy rounds or caps, it is about no light, too much light, silence and deafening explosions and blasts rocking and eyes closing tight for dust or fear. Loading with the weak hand, reloading with one hand, is the magazine in a position to get to it, or is it under a couple of layers of clothing, at the end of a limb you can't get another limb to? Lots of things to consider, to practice, to test and to try. Most of all to be ready to struggle without wasting energy, without burning up the necessary fear found chemicals.

So, start with warm ups, stretches, reps for muscle movement of body weight, for span and control. Stop and clean up, eat and go to work, come back and warm up, stretch, reps for max weights on muscle groups, then switch to dry fire drills, malfunction drills, target engagement, concealed positions, room clearing, roll down, roll up, roll right, crawl low, crawl high, see how deep you can get with the worms and the grass, finish with dry fire from all positions - prone, sitting, kneeling, squatting and standing. Should be done four or five times a week, but then most of the gun carrying public don't really think they need to be ready for the real bad guys - and we all know how much fun real work is - very satisfying, but not fun.

So the next time you see a cop run down a thief on foot, remember how many times he should have been practicing running and sprints with gear on - instead of hoping AirFOUR News helicopter is video taping the perp... I guess my message to myself is whatever I am is what I am bringing to the crisis - can I swim well enough to rescue someone? can I run far enough fast enough to break away from someone that wants to harm me, can I get outside and out of my porch lights in time to memorize the car and its plates, and occupants - before I shoot them (and where would I shoot them and what is beyond the target that may need to live to see tomorrow). And most important, is everyone I love safe at the end of the day.

Time for another Honey Lemon tea for my cough and congestion. Take care out there.

I may never have mentioned it but...

I was broken by the end of the Vietnam tour, or molded into the fellow I fool the world with, doesn't matter about the carving me out of the boy and grinding me into a man, but I remain very interested in the military, history and arts of war and will. I follow most of the space combat, good fantasy adventures and techno-thrillers. I have followed Stephen Hunter since Master Sniper - love both Earl (my Name!) and Bob Lee Swagger (Robert E. Lee is one of my heroes) and in the 47th Samurai I find another Vietnam Vet that is sixty and still a dangerous old man - certainly more dangerous than I could ever claim to be - nice story, fairy tale ending, but nice story.

Jerry Pournelle answers a question about an Introduction he made to a David Drake book titled Hammer's Slammers. It is titled "Mercenaries and Military Virtue" and worth the read, but then I am not giving up my copy of that book. I hear rumblings that Andy Rooney doesn't see any heroes now in America, and I laugh knowing where they all are - and they aren't in the media circles that Andy hangs with, the celebrities and politicians of note (they aren't risking anything for others, are they?). Andy saw heroes, he knows they exist but knows the current culture tries to make them out fools and foolish -- the stuff of myth and legends - fairy tales. In the age of Reason one needs the Romantic, in the era of Romance only those ruled by Reason prevail... or something like that. The heroes are all out there, getting up every day to fight the dragons, to bring in the treasures, to risk it all for someone else, for others in need, for the fears before the deed. But when victory is in the number of dollars one has control of - there isn't a culture appreciating heroes - just the greedy grubbers that haven't been caught. Shame - less, and without Honor - not the stuff of my heroes.

I just wanted to say thanks, but couldn't comment...

VIPs
Name: RN Clara Hart
Posting date: 1/26/09
Stationed in: a civilian military hospital in the U.S.
Milblog url: www.mcneillysperspective.blogspot.com
Email: clarahart2@yahoo.com

“Good Morning!. . . Hello? Anybody home?” Slowly one brown eye slid open.

“Hi! My name’s Clara, I’m going to be your nurse today.” The brown eye peered out at me from underneath a headdress of gauze.

“How are ya feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Any pain? Nausea? Dizziness?”

“No, no and no.”

“Okay then, here’s today’s plan." I rattled off a list of things to accomplish. “You ready?”

“Nope."

“Huh! Well! That’s not really an option. So this is what we’re gonna do," I said with a smile.

A long-suffering sigh was the only response.

My patient, injured three years ago in Iraq, had returned for additional surgery and so, in caring for him with tasks to be completed, I forged on with the morning.

At one point the causality affairs officer stopped in and asked if a high profile visitor could come by. Since my patient was stable I said it was fine with me as long as the patient didn’t mind. My patient looked at me, then reluctantly agreed.

“Damn, man! If I known today I was going to have a VIP patient who was going to have a VIP visitor I’d have done my hair!” I joked with him. For that quip, my patient awarded me with a crooked smile and a gurgle of laughter.

Timetable for the visit set, we began to complete some of the day’s tasks. While working, my patient, in slow, deliberate speech, said, “They come in, shake your hand and tell you how proud they are of you. They say thanks for serving your country, how grateful they are for men and women like you. They struggle to figure out what to talk about next and try real hard not to stare at your blown off leg or damaged face. Then they leave and you never see or hear from them again. If you’re lucky they might remember you, but most don’t.” Brown eye looked out at me, sadness clearly evident. “I get so tired of being on display for these people. People that don’t know me.”

Later, while charting as my patient lay sleeping I looked up to see the VIP striding down the hallway,entourage in tow. I stood and moved into my patient’s room, waking him by calling his name.

“Visitors," I said.

The VIP came into the room and began to speak. At times my patient’s speech was slow and halting, softly spoken, and the VIP had difficulty understanding. To cover the awkwardness, I began to joke with my patient, the mood lightening when the crooked smile appeared on his face. As quickly as he came the VIP left, and with a remembrance gift in his hand my patient simply looked at me, tired expression on his face. I told him to go back to sleep, and returned to work.

Several hours later a second visitor approached me, another liaison, inquiring as to the status of my patient and asking if he could see him. As my patient was finally getting some much-needed rest, I threatened him with great bodily harm if he even attempted to wake my patient.

“Oh no, Ma’am, I wouldn’t do that! I just wanted to make sure he was okay. See, we served together in Iraq three years ago, and the last time I saw him was a couple of days before he got blown up. I won’t wake him, and if you tell me he’s doing okay, that’s good enough for me. I’ll see him some other time."

“I know you,” he added. "You’ve taken care of another one of my guys and you’re good people. Protective as hell of your patients, but I like that. Makes me feel better knowing someone like you is looking after my guys when I can’t.” I smiled and nodded not sure what to say especially since I didn’t remember ever working with him.

After some prodding on my part he began to tell me about the crooked path that had taken him to two other duty stations before being tasked as a liaison. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go wake him up. You’re one visitor I know he’ll want to see."

Walking into the room, liaison slowly following, I again called my patient’s name. Leaning toward his head I softly spoke his name, then louder said “Wake up! There’s another visitor here to see you and you’ll like this one."

I heard the sigh he gave before the brown eye reluctantly opened. I began to smile as I watched recognition slowly dawn as he looked at his visitor. Then, as with an overexcited toddler whose entire body moves, my patient struggled to get his hand out from under the covers. He grinned, “How ya doing, man?!” All of us laughed, the visitor and the patient shook hands, then with hands tightly grasped, simply looked at each other.

Finding a chair for him, I urged the visitor to sit and talk. As I went about my work I heard snippets of the conversation drifting out of the room. Talk of guys they served with, promotions, life’s paths, laughter, tears, war stories and more laughter. Later, as the liaison stood up to leave, I wandered back into the room. With grins stretched across our faces we all gazed at each other.

I have no need to wonder which VIP my patient will remember most.

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I lifted the entire thing from The Sandbox, my problems are so little, perspective.

Rumors that the NFL is kicking more than footballs...

Seems the Color Guard isn't going to be allowed to watch the Superbowl after posting the Colors at the Superbowl, just escorted out and put back on their bus. Doesn't sound like the players and coaches I knew, but then I am not a true fan, I don't pick a side, I just watch the game and look for brilliance and courage. Well, until I hear different the First of February is back to a Church and range day, or if the weather is with me I will be riding the Trusty Triumph. You see, I could have a life away from television and the National Football League. Kick that idea around for a bit. You will never know I wasn't there... there are more than enough fools.

How was Sunday? Here it was great...

Not that anyone would notice, but I watched Sunday Morning and listened to Mariah sing, both cute and sexy, and I had gruel for breakfast and then went on a gentle jog. Cleaned up and shaved, put on my church clothes and gun and rode the Trusty Triumph to church, opened some doors for ladies and children, smiled at young ladies with starry eyes (wishing I were in the market, but not even window shopping - they still look wonderful). Get gasoline, ride home and start watching football as I iron all my week's plus clothing. Okay, the Cardinals win and I yawn - did like the second half better'n the first. Ironing stuff gets put away and the next game is up and I pull out the pistols for cleaning. I wonder when I will get to shooting enough for a gunsmith to work on them to tune them up again. They do show a bit of wear, but not enough to worry me - I don't compete and so I am sure I am okay, competitors need to win against other competitors, and actors on the screen need to out shoot other actors on the screen. I will only need to out shoot the type of guys that steal from libraries or terrorists that have area weapons and surprise on their side. So, if my ammunition is clean and plentiful, the weapon is within reach and the day is going badly - I am confident that my .45s will work with all the function Mister Browning intended, and I will being my best because I prepared for the worst. My Sunday is just fine, ending it with a prayer for those far away from their loved ones and those in need but still fighting.

Okay, the splash landing was the best...

I was impressed with the landing on the Hudson River, and more impressed that the pilot hasn't been all over television talking about it. My father was a pilot and made some of the softest landings I have ever had, in some of the finest farmland in America. But I was thinking that there are thousands of professionals in their work that could do it even when everything goes bad, and if they can't they still die trying to do it right.

I went to see Defiance today, a movie from a time long ago, and far away. Still, I liked the movie, and understand the critics - but then they never lived in a time when people die beside you, behind you and in droves, they haven't lived with the lie that being a Jew means you are inferior and won't fight, they haven't lived with the lie that hiding will keep you safe, which is as bad as the one that says fighting will keep you safe. I will have to try and read the book, because the movie doesn't tell me enough about the brothers and what they did to survive and save 1200, not an insignificant number when people are dying by the millions. Having studied some about resistance and guerrilla warfare I want to know about the tactics. I have laughed too long about the survivalists that I think have little training in combat operations, but then I could be wrong. I have been so before. And then they came to America and built a life and a trucking company?

The things I learn on the Internet...

From Doubletapper, that other seasonal holiday, Chanuka Festival. Well worth reading.

Veterans Day, who and where are they...

I studied a bit of history, my mother made me - thanks, Mom! And I know that Veterans Day wasn't always such, it was Armistice Day, when the guns fell silent. The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month and the guns fell silent. That must have been wonderful and a bit unbelievable for the trench rats and their brethren the mud slogging combatants of the Great War, a perfect peace later ruined by politicians at large elegant tables with papers and punishment and plunder on their minds, such little men.

What I knew of Veterans from my early years was that they were the stuff of legends, they were the backbone of the troop formations and armies that I read about. They were the stiffening and the perfection of deadly thrust and totally unafraid in the face of thousands. I knew about the 300, about Napoleon's Old Guard at Waterloo. All that from the stories, movies and television - boy, did I know veterans and what they were good for. Of course being a Boomer, I was living with a veteran, his Ike jacket hung in his closet with his ribbons and patches on it, there was a Japanese saber, a pistol belt and an M1 bayonet, too. I didn't understand what that meant to him, why The Gallant Men and Combat! , some of my favorite shows, didn't excite him or even entertain him. Being a high school graduate of 1966, I knew the godless Communists were waiting for me in Vietnam, although I did waste a semester in Coral Gables before I went off to become a soldier. My father did tell me that I wouldn't like it as we said good-bye.

So I had to learn to go where I was sent, do what they wanted me to do, to do it well and to understand they would punish me for my failures and foolishness. Although the foolishness was always so much fun, I did have enough pride to really work at war and becoming a soldier.

I guess that I started to consider myself a veteran by the time I was a Drill Sergeant, I had served in Korea, Germany and Vietnam, had bit unfriendly fire in Korea and Vietnam and had done just fine. My father finally talked to me a bit about his war when I came back from Vietnam - he only had Leyete and Okinawa, as a Combat Engineer and a teenager - the year he lost being nineteen. His brother was in Italy and mentioned that he was glad he hadn't earned a bronze arrowhead on his campaign ribbons, that was given to the assault forces, my father had one. Another veteran in my life, my uncle earned a commission in Italy and stayed in the Army through the early Cold War years. I thought he was too tough on his sons, but then he had four of them. My grandfather, the Methodist minister and missionary to El Cerro in Montevideo, he had served in the American forces in France in the Great War, he hadn't served in combat duties since he was a Pacifist but he did serve. He spent most of his life working for International Peace.

My mother is still pushing History at me, yesterday's email:

Remember our ancestor   Jabez
Cleveland  who died in the Battle of Bunker hill. And our other
ancestor  who fought in the Revolutionary war, as a member of the
Virginia Militia, he was an Archer (last name, don't know his first
name).In the Civil War only Don's family fought in it.

Those Civil War veterans were named Bauer,
which in German (where they came from) means farmer or peasant.  Which
gets me to my point about Veterans Day, I have a point, really.

The Veterans that really ought to be thanked, are the ones that went to
battle and came home and built a life away from the terror and turmoil
of combat, that work hard to keep their children and grandchildren from
the fear and outright terror of killing or being killed by other men
trying their best to live through it all and get home to build a
different life. Don't get me wrong, most of them have exactly the same
courage to put on the war gear and go out and face the fury again, but
they also have the discipline to build that better life, the patience
to put up with a little stupidity and discomfort for the future, and
the intelligence to want to have Peace and know when it is time to go
back to War.  And to the unknown woman with daughter and husband that
stopped to tell me that she thanked me for my service in Vietnam, me
the tough guy that couldn't break through the fragile armor that hid my
pain to say anything - I want to say Thank you for that little touch of
kindness, it has always meant so much.  A Nurse and a Marine
are veterans worth reading, but there are thousands of stories out
there, think about the Veterans and those young people in uniform
becoming Veterans as I speak.

Honey do, and of course I will... to the best of my...

One of my workers asked if I had a honey-do list waiting for me this weekend, and I never do - I build my own procrastination pile and play around it avoiding my duties - or so I will say so. Today was different, there is the installation of the bright beautiful vertical blinds. The crew will call around eight am and tell us what time they should arrive. Yes, I am old and hired experts to install the blinds, and we were told that for eighty dollars they would take down the old sets and take them away. I even went to the ATM to get a hundred to cover it and then looked at the job.

First I have to move the furniture from around the windows in six rooms - I can do that, and did. Then I looked at taking down the curtains where they were hung, and did that and put them into the laundry basket for washing. All that is left is taking down the old horizontal blinds and I start doing that. Now, there is likely an easy disconnect system that has been holding the blinds up for the last thirteen years, but I am better at destroying things than creating them - I am excellent at killing people in bunches and breaking stuff - they paid me well for that for years. Anyway, short story I have all the blinds down and before the last one dropped to the floor overcome by my efforts and gravity I think I figured out the quick disconnect. But I don't have anymore to practice on to prove it.

My mother called and gave me a welcome break, she wanted to talk about some man that yelled at her and made her feel terrible. I asked if she wanted me to beat him up or take him out - but she is much too good a Christian Lady for her to think that was a good idea. My theory about men that abuse women is that they are cowards, that is why they bully and beat on women - because they know they are afraid and want to be strong and tough - they do need to get a new point of view - as they eat dirt after a real man tries to whip them into shape (jellyfish-like works for me). I don't think my beating them up will change them, just confirm in their mind they need to hide their abuse better or they will get beaten again. Anyway after we discussed all the better stuff about her life and mine and caught up on everyone around us and whatzup (no, we didn't talk politics - we have real lives) I promised pictures of the new improved home in the mail - I have the before pictures already, love digital cameras with lots of memory. Gave her my love and took hers for me and my wife, who is out doing church stuff - where is she going to find community service time? Some days I hardly see her.

Once, long ago and far away in Oklahoma, my commander asked how my wife was, and I had to tell him I didn't know. There is a lump in the bed when I wake up to get to work, and when I come home at night there is a meal waiting for me and the clothes have been washed, but I don't dare waste any sleep time checking to see what is under that lump in my bed, but the next time I get a day off from being a Drill Sergeant I will check and find out if she is still speaking to me.

I did love being in the Army and Airborne and importantly useful in trying situations, but I love my wife and my ability to slowly work through the short remainder of my existence on Earth much more. Smooth Jazz is playing loudly and it is time for lunch and to check my mail.

For something in Support of Veterans' Day

Virtual Veteran's Day - An Open Letter To Milbloggers

I am an airborne Vietnam through Gulf War I veteran, all 27 years and five months and a day of serving the United States of America and our allies, many of which fought beside me in some bad places. I have never felt the need for Veteran's Day, but I always wanted the country to accept my service and that of all the others that wore the uniform -- and I have always felt betrayed by my countrymen and politicians for Vietnam (not the fighting there - for the laughing at us being fools enough to think we had honor and dignity - Clinton, Gore and others were so much smarter about deferments and getting out of country early - because they were smarter and better than us). Sorry about the bitterness, but it is still there and won't go away this Vet's Day. Be a better person than I, and support your service people - don't throw them away, they will give everything for your protection - everything.

You know, it isn't the Economy that will kill me...

No, I will be fine, no matter who becomes President. What is going to kill me is the America that isn't at war. The America that thinks someone else is going to protect us, heal us and be our heroes. I have a story to tell in November, and it is about a time and a country when people took responsibility and acted. No, I went to the Sandbox and saw what Clara had written and remembered that I wasn't at war, I wasn't following, I wasn't leading and I wasn't doing more than wearing a magnetic We Support the Troops ribbon on my Caravan. You and I aren't paying attention to the cost, too comfortable, but listen. Not enough turmoil in your vision of harmony? Well, this is another way of looking all around you.

Tough talk about shooting last weekend, how hard it is without Internet connections at work, the cable guy that comes late and makes me miss work for a day. I am the absent American, too busy to make sure the right people get into government - elected and hired for that dream that became so selfish. How did I forget? Patriot Guard Riders are out honoring fallen Veterans, current service personnel and past ones. I have been too busy to ride? I am surrounded by serving soldiers and I should talk more with them - don't want them to end up as broken as a young sergeant I remember once was. Well, close the day with a prayer to help all those wounded fighting on out there - especially the ones that really care and need to share their burden and their pain. Good night and sleep well, for your brightest and best are off at their country's behest, and you have diss'd them too much, too often and too long.

Just a muse or two....

The Neo-Neocon has a post that I found interesting, seeing that McCain is an almost failure for graduating near the bottom of his class at the Naval Academy - doesn't the Left know that getting into a service academy puts you in the elite? Oh, they do think that only losers serve in their country's military don't they? They jumped on "go to jail or go into the Service" for a certain son - remember the previous sentence only losers go into the military service of their country, and remember why they stay - because they can't get a job on the outside. Or so they say, I remember watching a basketball game and talking with a guy that was going to go work for something like the CIA since the war was over, I decided to stay in the Army and get ready for the next one - it was 1973. Just couldn't stand the unemployment lines on the outside, I guess, but then I wasn't of the Left. Of course the idea that the military forces that serve the country might just be a very important unique elite never is understood by those sipping Latte and talking about the latest in doctorate degrees and cites. I do not think much about stereo-typing, Rednecks, Country bumpkins, or Ridgerunners and many of the other common folk the best families seem to come from, so I shouldn't be so hard on the Left. In Asia, the cultures believe that manners, sympathy and empathy are critical to being a Human Being, and anything less is just an animal aping a real person.

I was looking at some words on the internet, you should recognize them:

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

Political tags -- such as royalist, communist, democrat, populist, fascist, liberal, conservative, and so forth -- are never basic criteria. The human race divides politically into those who want people to be controlled and those who have no such desire. The former are idealists acting from highest motives for the greatest good of the greatest number. The latter are surly curmudgeeons, suspicious and lacking in altruism. But they are more comfortable neighbors than the other sort.

My mother told me to always give credit where due, and she might not know that Robert A. Heinlein wrote both those quotes. I said it on a comment on another blog: The Lady with the Rifle and the Dead Caribou didn't do it to impress me, but it does.

I would have settled for Obama and hunting and cleaning ducks, but I guess he doesn't do that.

Is it the end yet? well of the work week, and

I had heard good things about Obama, from my son and a nephew during the primaries - they were looking for a change in government leadership and he sounded so good - I never found the time to listen, but I thought he was sincere and could be an improvement. I have really given up on Washington, DC, I do think the money men own the elected representatives of the people, not that some of them aren't worth owning, they do work hard but for whom? Until he decided he knew me and what my problem was:

As Obama put it: "(T)hey get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations

Well, I guess I identify with the gun clinging, religious folks - especially on motorcycles (just kidding about that). But I didn't have any love of McCain, except he was a Vietnam Vet, didn't come home early either. But as a politician he was tainted by DC, and his gun carrying isn't as good as I want so I was almost going to sit this election out. Oh, I would have voted - we have important local races to run and see if King County can manufacture votes again like they did last time - I am a real person and I only vote once per election, honest! But I was out of interest in the Presidential run off, I just didn't think the Republicans looked that different from the Democrats - suits cost about the same, haircuts too costly and the perks and paybacks are on both sides of the aisle. Kind of reminds me of my send off to a departing Battalion Commander - he was on his way to the Pentagon, would get promoted and start looking for that star, but I shook his hand and shook my head, when you get to Washington the only soldiers you are going to see are in Arlington or called in to march in a parade - everyone else in uniform is in politics.

Well, Senator McCain, I have to thank you for your great decision, Governor Palin, one of those bitter gun clinging, religious folk - and she doesn't put up with fools, nor corruption (even in her own party!). She doesn't deserve to be punished by living in Washington, DC. Isn't it time we centered the Capital again? To save fuel and increase Maryland's tax base, of course.

I surely do love fearless women.

Never enough time, or I am way too slow...

Watching the Women's 800 this morning, and sure enough if I had started with them they would have finished before I got to the 250 mark. Still I do love the women that do things fearlessly. Then I caught the Russian Pole Vaulter! Talk about fearless, after brushing the bar twice at a possible new World Record (5.05 m), she went for a third and Prayed (talking to herself and God, no one else could answer) as she applied sticky and did the vault flawlessly - at least in her mind. Then she flew down to the pit, placed the pole and sprang to the ceiling and cleared - and her smile came back as she relaxed on the way down to that cushion. Lovely thing being fearless, and Wyatt is on vacation or she would have been the Olympic Hottie of the day (I know she is above all that - but some men are so shallow) - and when she smiles I almost wish I were young and foolish and single - but I am only foolish. Inspired I went out for the morning jog - between rains squalls with lightning. It was a good morning and I was inspired and cranked on pumping my arms with the hand weights and dreaming, then I got by the Greyhound Rescue Ranch, and I had lots of running buddies - they would bark joyfully and start running along the fence with me and then look back when they realized my speed was stall, sputter and stall, sputter and stroll. Such a slug, but they are beautiful when they stretch out and leap into the distance and future, if I ever get a dog it isn't going to be a sight hunter - I would need a horse to keep up, and I don't do horses. Good day to be alive, isn't it? Wife recommends no motorcycle in the squalls, sigh, don't you just wish she weren't so often right? Nah, I remember when she was all the fearless I could handle, and I am not sure I ever did. Got to go, disconnect, turn off computer and join the taxpaying public...