YEAH!!! My friend Desult earned the Army Physical Fitness Test Award during her stay in Basic! She maxed it out getting 300 out of a possible 300 points. She even did it while battling a respiratory illness. You go girl!
I'm telling you folks, this lady is kick a$$!
Go check it out!
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Saying What I Think...
Sgt Mom has done it again; putting the jumbled thoughts bouncing around my skull into eloquent and comprehensive words. I don't know how she does it, but darn glad she does. Go read.
But on another note, this just, well I just don't know what to think. I'm so very happy these men were saved and I regret the death of their companion. However, those "illegal occupiers" of Iraq are the ones who rescued them; I shudder to think about their fate if those "occupiers" weren't there. Would a simple thank you have been so hard to say WITHOUT the anti-war spin? I just don't understand some people.
HT to Drudge.
But on another note, this just, well I just don't know what to think. I'm so very happy these men were saved and I regret the death of their companion. However, those "illegal occupiers" of Iraq are the ones who rescued them; I shudder to think about their fate if those "occupiers" weren't there. Would a simple thank you have been so hard to say WITHOUT the anti-war spin? I just don't understand some people.
HT to Drudge.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Dog Days
Sgt Mom has written her adventures with the Lesser Weevil here, here, here, and here, and some of her comments got me thinking about my two “boys” and how they make me laugh. The Blue Eyed Infidel also would post about her dogs and I really enjoyed reading them, so I figured WTH, I’ll try and convey some of the adventures my two dogs have had and the joy (and occasional frustration) they bring to my wife and I.
Our oldest is a pure chocolate lab that my wife got while I was deployed to Korea the last time back in 1999. In some ways, he’s a typical lab; he LOVES the water, and has a very “soft mouth”. However, he doesn’t enjoy fetch like other labs. In fact, after about 2 retrievals, he’ll look at the stick/ball/Frisbee then me, then the stick/ball/Frisbee, back to me with a look like, WTF? I just BROUGHT that damn thing to you, why are you throwing it away again? Then go lie in the grass and chew on some grass. Now if I throw the stick/ball/Frisbee into a lake, he’ll keep playing till he drowns…
The younger one we got a year after the first to keep him company while we were at work. He is a black lab/blue heeler mix and is one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s too smart for his own good and I’ll often call him Einstein. When he was a puppy, my wife’s shoes (not mine, or anything else) were getting chewed up. We never caught the culprit, but assumed it was the older dog, being jealous of the pup and acting out since we ALWAYS found the shoe remnants either in his bed or near where he was laying and the puppy was at least all the way across the room. Well, one day I snuck in the house to see if I could catch the monster in the act. I heard the tell tale sounds of something (I assumed it was yet another shoe) meeting its demise. As I snuck up the stairs, I could see the big dog lying on the floor looking the other way. About that time, the stair creaked and I saw a small furry black streak dragging a Teva up to the big dog, drop it between his outstretched paws, and continued like a shot clear across the room and jumped into his bed, tail wagging a mile a minute. I had to laugh; he was deliberately placing evidence to frame the older dog for his misdeeds, and then look on with his innocent little face while the older dog was like what? I’m just laying here dude!
Our lab is not the most graceful dog on the planet; in fact, I affectionately call him lumber for the way he runs. It’s sort of like a bull in a china shop. Last night I laughed out loud at him as he played with his tug-o-war rope by himself. This rope has a loop on either end and is about 2 feet long. He had the rope in his mouth at the center and was jumping around and shaking his head trying to get me interested enough to play with him. At one point, he had gotten each of his front paws in the loops, sort of like a hobble for a horse. He couldn’t quite figure out what to do, but continued to pull and shake the rope, tripping himself over and over.
When we first brought the little one home, he would stalk Lumber and pounce on him (still does in fact) trying to incite him to play. Lumber outweighed him by about 60 ponds then and would let him do what ever he wanted. Very tolerant that one! In fact, Einstein started sitting on Lumber, either his head or his back, whenever Lumber was lying down. Einstein will walk across the room, sit on Lumber’s head, and then look over at us as is to say, “That’s right, I’m king of this here castle.” Lumber just accepts it. For a long time I thought Einstein was the Alpha, and Lumber was a big old baby, but my neighbor mentioned something to me once after they had ‘babysat’ for us. I think he may be right. We now think Lumber is definitely the alpha, but lets Einstein act all tough; much like a big brother does with his bratty sibling. I’ve seen the few occasions where Einstein goes too far and Lumber quickly puts him in his place. Einstein immediately acquiesces and slinks off till big brother has forgiven him.
These two guys are a constant source of laughter and companionship for us, they are our boys and I really don’t know how we could live without them. Since we’ve not been able to have children, we sometimes treat them as such (NOT to the point where we treat them like kids) but we have some of the same feelings and concerns.
Not long ago, while my wife was deployed, Einstein got really sick one night. I mean really. Sick. He made it to the back door and threw up on the floor mat. I let him out for some fresh air as I cleaned up the mess (this was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do. It. Was. Awful.) and threw the mat away. Anyway, I let him back in the house, made sure he had fresh water, and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. In that short time, he got sick again, this time in his bed. It was so awful I simply threw it away as well. When I came back in from dumping the hazardous waste in the dumpster, he had lost it once more by the back door (I had no idea a 60lb dog could hold that much) on the tile floor. He looked up at me with a look that said, “Dude, I’m so sorry, but I’m so sick right now…” I cleaned it up yet again (by this time I was ready to throw up too) and then sat there and rubbed his head and made sure he kept drinking water. He lay there looking at me with his tail flicking, letting me know how much he appreciated my efforts. I figured that if he was still sick in the morning, we’d run down to see the vet. Luckily, the next morning he was fine and running around like the little imp he is, tormenting Lumber with a renewed vigor, as if to make up for those few hours he couldn’t find the energy to.
These guys drive me nuts sometimes, but not a day goes by that they don’t make me laugh out loud and that is priceless.
The Future is Secure
Stories like this one on Fox News just re-afirm my faith in the youth of America. Youth of America? Did I say that? I guess I'm officially old now, but never mind that, these kids make me proud!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
My View
The other day I made some comments about some college students parroting what is reported in the media instead of thinking critically and making decision for themselves. This of course triggered some spirited comments, and one in particular that I need to address and expand my position on. In particular, I used the example of students asking "isn’t it true that there were no WMDs in Iraq and that Bush lied just to get us in the war?" The point I want to make about this particular statement and how it applies to critical thinking is that the absence of WMDs is only part of the story.
To get to the crux of the argument is that Bush lied about WMDs to get us into the war in Iraq. Forget about the reasons why he supposedly wanted to get into the war, I want to focus on the argument that he lied about WMDs to get us there.
To understand this, you need to know a little bit about the intelligence available at the time, and how it’s interpreted. We had lots of intel, in fact, we ALWAYS have lots of intel. So much in fact that on average, the amount of intel gathered on a daily basis, is so large that it would one person 18 years to go through it, analyze it, interpret it and make a recommendation. Eighteen years; that’s 37,440 man-hours (40 hrs a week x 52 weeks x 18 years). Granted, we don’t have a single person doing this, but you can figure that even if you had a team of 100 people, it would take 47 days to process ONE days worth of intel, and intel gathering continues 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It’s a wonder we’re able to do as well as we do.
Add to the equation that intel analysis is not an exact science. Recommendations are basically guesses on the part of the analyst. Guesses made by experts in their fields, based on past experience, political climate, and a myriad of other factors, but it boils down to and educated guess. In the military community, we jokingly refer to it as a SWAG or Scientific Wild A$$ Guess.
So, there is a good chance the intel was flawed. However, there’s a reasonable chance it was correct and the WMDs did exist and were either hidden or moved. I tend to think that these explanations are more plausible than they didn’t exist at all. I can hear you now; "but we haven’t found any, so how could they have been over looked for so long, they couldn’t have existed. Well, the best way to explain this is with an example.
Not long ago, there was a horrible murder out where I live where a pregnant woman was killed by her husband while she slept. He disposed of the bodies in a dumpster. He confessed to the crime within days and the police conducted a full out search of the landfill that dumpster load was taken to. It took over two and a half months to find her body. My point is this; the police KNEW where she was and it took over two months to find her in an area less than 10 square miles. Iraq is about 7,000 square miles larger than California with the majority of it being vast expanses of open, desolate desert. We have found complete military aircraft buried in the desert, to hide them from inspectors. Whole, complete military aircraft. Keep in mind that Iraq gathered intel as well and probably had a good idea of when we were getting ready to go in. They had plenty of time to hide or move their WMDs before OIF kicked off.
There are those who also say that since there were no WMDs (found), then we need to get out of Iraq. Again, I’ll use an example of why we shouldn’t cut and run since the WMDs were not found. Imagine the police get a tip that a house is being used to manufacture and sell drugs. They get a warrant based on probable cause and raid the home. Turns out, there are no drugs, no paraphernalia, no evidence at all of drug activity. Their intel was flawed. But what if they find evidence of a homicide, or find a kidnap victim tied up in the basement? Should they pack up and leave? What if they find evidence of a serial killer or child molester? What should they do?
So, back to my original point; why is parroting the stance of no WMDs being ill-informed? Technically yes, there were no WMDs found so far. They may not have even existed, but that doesn’t mean the President lied. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be in Iraq. Was the intel flawed? Possibly or probably depending on how you look at it. Were mistakes made? Absolutely. Do we cut and run because of them? In my opinion, no; I think it’s better to learn from them and make corrections, and continue to do what is necessary.
My original comments were based on a conversation about how some of the college students I’ve talked to in class don’t take the time to hear the other side, or sometimes a third or forth side of a story. They don’t make the effort to get the details, weigh them, and form their own opinion. This applies to those on both sides of an issue. What I try to instill is these young people is to look at things from all angles, get as much information from different sources (not just the ones that support their particular view) and base a position on complete information. If they do that, they’re opinions have weight. To blindly follow a party line or support a candidate because of dislike for another, is not only irresponsible, it’s dangerous. To base your position on well informed thought is how our system is designed to work.
I know there are plenty out there that will still disagree with me, and that’s fine. I enjoy disagreement. I like to hear well thought out arguments contrary to my views. It makes me better informed. I have even changed my views on some issues because of it. Like I said in my profile, I can’t stand blind allegiance to either side; but I respect the hell out of firm allegiance based on personal thought. I might not agree, but if your argument is based on complete information, I’ll lay down my life defending your right to your beliefs.
To get to the crux of the argument is that Bush lied about WMDs to get us into the war in Iraq. Forget about the reasons why he supposedly wanted to get into the war, I want to focus on the argument that he lied about WMDs to get us there.
To understand this, you need to know a little bit about the intelligence available at the time, and how it’s interpreted. We had lots of intel, in fact, we ALWAYS have lots of intel. So much in fact that on average, the amount of intel gathered on a daily basis, is so large that it would one person 18 years to go through it, analyze it, interpret it and make a recommendation. Eighteen years; that’s 37,440 man-hours (40 hrs a week x 52 weeks x 18 years). Granted, we don’t have a single person doing this, but you can figure that even if you had a team of 100 people, it would take 47 days to process ONE days worth of intel, and intel gathering continues 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It’s a wonder we’re able to do as well as we do.
Add to the equation that intel analysis is not an exact science. Recommendations are basically guesses on the part of the analyst. Guesses made by experts in their fields, based on past experience, political climate, and a myriad of other factors, but it boils down to and educated guess. In the military community, we jokingly refer to it as a SWAG or Scientific Wild A$$ Guess.
So, there is a good chance the intel was flawed. However, there’s a reasonable chance it was correct and the WMDs did exist and were either hidden or moved. I tend to think that these explanations are more plausible than they didn’t exist at all. I can hear you now; "but we haven’t found any, so how could they have been over looked for so long, they couldn’t have existed. Well, the best way to explain this is with an example.
Not long ago, there was a horrible murder out where I live where a pregnant woman was killed by her husband while she slept. He disposed of the bodies in a dumpster. He confessed to the crime within days and the police conducted a full out search of the landfill that dumpster load was taken to. It took over two and a half months to find her body. My point is this; the police KNEW where she was and it took over two months to find her in an area less than 10 square miles. Iraq is about 7,000 square miles larger than California with the majority of it being vast expanses of open, desolate desert. We have found complete military aircraft buried in the desert, to hide them from inspectors. Whole, complete military aircraft. Keep in mind that Iraq gathered intel as well and probably had a good idea of when we were getting ready to go in. They had plenty of time to hide or move their WMDs before OIF kicked off.
There are those who also say that since there were no WMDs (found), then we need to get out of Iraq. Again, I’ll use an example of why we shouldn’t cut and run since the WMDs were not found. Imagine the police get a tip that a house is being used to manufacture and sell drugs. They get a warrant based on probable cause and raid the home. Turns out, there are no drugs, no paraphernalia, no evidence at all of drug activity. Their intel was flawed. But what if they find evidence of a homicide, or find a kidnap victim tied up in the basement? Should they pack up and leave? What if they find evidence of a serial killer or child molester? What should they do?
So, back to my original point; why is parroting the stance of no WMDs being ill-informed? Technically yes, there were no WMDs found so far. They may not have even existed, but that doesn’t mean the President lied. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be in Iraq. Was the intel flawed? Possibly or probably depending on how you look at it. Were mistakes made? Absolutely. Do we cut and run because of them? In my opinion, no; I think it’s better to learn from them and make corrections, and continue to do what is necessary.
My original comments were based on a conversation about how some of the college students I’ve talked to in class don’t take the time to hear the other side, or sometimes a third or forth side of a story. They don’t make the effort to get the details, weigh them, and form their own opinion. This applies to those on both sides of an issue. What I try to instill is these young people is to look at things from all angles, get as much information from different sources (not just the ones that support their particular view) and base a position on complete information. If they do that, they’re opinions have weight. To blindly follow a party line or support a candidate because of dislike for another, is not only irresponsible, it’s dangerous. To base your position on well informed thought is how our system is designed to work.
I know there are plenty out there that will still disagree with me, and that’s fine. I enjoy disagreement. I like to hear well thought out arguments contrary to my views. It makes me better informed. I have even changed my views on some issues because of it. Like I said in my profile, I can’t stand blind allegiance to either side; but I respect the hell out of firm allegiance based on personal thought. I might not agree, but if your argument is based on complete information, I’ll lay down my life defending your right to your beliefs.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The first Rampage for the Rampage
Okay kiddies, time for a full on rage against the machine rant from yours truly. Now I have had more than my fair share of injustices during my 23 years on active duty, but this isn’t about me. This is about some of our warriors sitting in HARMS WAY (mortar and rocket attacks) and not getting hostile fire pay. Not. Getting. HOSTILE. FIRE. Pay. These folks are assigned to units in country, receiving hostile fire, and not getting paid for it. Why?
Here’s what I know, and I’ll admit I haven’t researched much so far, but I do know it’s affecting my family personally. Evidently, you have to been in the combat zone for 30 consecutive days to receive hostile fire pay. Sounds like someone somewhere put this rule in place to prevent REMFs* from popping into the zone for a day and receiving HFP. Good idea. But, and this is a big but, what about those that live and work in the zone, but duties require them to leave for a day or two then return? Or what about some brave trooper who gets wounded and evac’d out of the AOR? Don’t they deserve the HFP for putting their asses on the line?
We have Air Evac teams in country whose job is to take the wounded, injured or KIA out of the AOR to treatment centers in Germany, we all know that. What we don’t know is that as soon as one of these missions of mercy takes off, those crew members and possibly their charges have just lost their chance for HFP. Am I the only one who is outraged by this? I mean, c’mon, all that is required to get the tax free exemption for a month of pay is to enter the combat zone! This includes aircraft that fly through the airspace, but never land in, the combat zone. WTF?
Some people VERY close to me just returned from a tour where the longest consecutive time spent in the zone was 27 days. The good news is that there are fewer mission (due to fewer casualties) than the last deployment they were on, but the bad news is they sacrifice just as much as any other member deployed there and encounter the same risks without the small compensation of HFP. Never mind that one such mission was flown ONLY because some visiting members of Congress refused to wear their seat belts and were in a car accident! They weren’t attacked; their driver lost control and these guys wound up injured through their own arrogance. I wonder what sort of allowance or entitlement they got for their few days in the zone? It just seems wrong that those that work, live, and sometimes die in a combat zone, don’t get this small compensation because of some arbitrary number thought up by some bean counter who probably couldn’t find the combat zone on a map.
*Rear Echelon Mother F^@!$r
Here’s what I know, and I’ll admit I haven’t researched much so far, but I do know it’s affecting my family personally. Evidently, you have to been in the combat zone for 30 consecutive days to receive hostile fire pay. Sounds like someone somewhere put this rule in place to prevent REMFs* from popping into the zone for a day and receiving HFP. Good idea. But, and this is a big but, what about those that live and work in the zone, but duties require them to leave for a day or two then return? Or what about some brave trooper who gets wounded and evac’d out of the AOR? Don’t they deserve the HFP for putting their asses on the line?
We have Air Evac teams in country whose job is to take the wounded, injured or KIA out of the AOR to treatment centers in Germany, we all know that. What we don’t know is that as soon as one of these missions of mercy takes off, those crew members and possibly their charges have just lost their chance for HFP. Am I the only one who is outraged by this? I mean, c’mon, all that is required to get the tax free exemption for a month of pay is to enter the combat zone! This includes aircraft that fly through the airspace, but never land in, the combat zone. WTF?
Some people VERY close to me just returned from a tour where the longest consecutive time spent in the zone was 27 days. The good news is that there are fewer mission (due to fewer casualties) than the last deployment they were on, but the bad news is they sacrifice just as much as any other member deployed there and encounter the same risks without the small compensation of HFP. Never mind that one such mission was flown ONLY because some visiting members of Congress refused to wear their seat belts and were in a car accident! They weren’t attacked; their driver lost control and these guys wound up injured through their own arrogance. I wonder what sort of allowance or entitlement they got for their few days in the zone? It just seems wrong that those that work, live, and sometimes die in a combat zone, don’t get this small compensation because of some arbitrary number thought up by some bean counter who probably couldn’t find the combat zone on a map.
*Rear Echelon Mother F^@!$r
Friday, February 24, 2006
Grandpa pt 1
I started writing my memories of my Grandpa a few weeks before my Grandma passed away and had hoped to show them to her, but she decided she had been away from him far too long before I had a chance. Yet another regret I have, but I'm still glad I started writing these things down. I have about 10 pages just about Grandpa, so I'll post a bit at a time. This story always made me laugh when I heard it. So, Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you're having fun and don't worry about us, we'll see you soon enough. I love you both very much.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Cindy's back... WHY?!
Hmmm, first I’ve heard of this. Well done to the “protestors”; she needs to be reminded that freedom of speech goes both ways. I did find it funny that she told the crowd “. . . if you support this war and President Bush, march to your recruiter's office and sign up." Something her son Casey did. Matt at Blackfive has the details of Casey’s valor. HE is a hero and deserves to be remembered but unfortunately, SHE is cashing in on his ultimate sacrifice for something HE believed in. Go away Cindy and let you son rest in the peace he’s earned.
Oh, and by the way, poor quality body armor?, not true. Our troops have the very best available. Rotten food? She’s full of BS; the dining facilities serve good, healthy meals and MREs may not be the most enjoyable, but they’re decent and healthy meals. No treatment for PTSD? The treatment is there, unfortunately, some refuse to take it. Some feel ashamed of not being able to cope on their own and refuse to get treatment; Sad, but true. Every returning military member is given the opportunity to get treatment. The DoD is spending millions to ensure this treatment is available to it’s members.
I’m sorry she lost her son, but I just wish she would HONOR him instead of using him. My advice to Cindy is to go to church. Find peace, solace and forgiveness. Honor your son and be grateful for the time you shared. Be proud of the man you raised; be proud of his commitment, his faith, and his compassion. Stop blaming others for his choice to serve, and promoting your own selfish agenda.
Oh, and by the way, poor quality body armor?, not true. Our troops have the very best available. Rotten food? She’s full of BS; the dining facilities serve good, healthy meals and MREs may not be the most enjoyable, but they’re decent and healthy meals. No treatment for PTSD? The treatment is there, unfortunately, some refuse to take it. Some feel ashamed of not being able to cope on their own and refuse to get treatment; Sad, but true. Every returning military member is given the opportunity to get treatment. The DoD is spending millions to ensure this treatment is available to it’s members.
I’m sorry she lost her son, but I just wish she would HONOR him instead of using him. My advice to Cindy is to go to church. Find peace, solace and forgiveness. Honor your son and be grateful for the time you shared. Be proud of the man you raised; be proud of his commitment, his faith, and his compassion. Stop blaming others for his choice to serve, and promoting your own selfish agenda.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Grandma part 1
I wrote this in the airport yesterday on my way home.
We buried my Grandma yesterday on her 99th birthday. As we sat around talking and telling stories about our memories of her, I couldn’t help but think of what a wonderful contribution she made to our world.
Obviously, she gave life to my mother and all her siblings, so without her, none of us gathered here would even exist without her. But it goes much more than that. She was an incredibly strong woman who in her own small way, broke many barriers and stereotypes over her lifetime.
She came to this country as a 3 year-old toddler and was the oldest of 11 kids. She worked long hard hours on her father’s farm, and was one of the first women to learn to drive that newfangled invention, the horse less carriage. She lost a brother at Pearl Harbor and proudly watched as her four sons served their country. She was Grandpa’s best friend and missed him dearly and talked of him everyday for the last 20 years.
To me of course, she was this little old lady who had a boisterous laugh and a warm kitchen full of cookies and fun, and now great memories. Over the years I’ve come to know her from a different perspective. She was more than a great Grandma; she was also a mother, wife and friend. The Priest summed up her essence in a few true words: fearless in faith. I never really noticed before this weekend, just how important her faith was to her, but as we looked around her house, suddenly it became starkly clear. Everywhere you looked, there are crucifixes, icons, and other evidence of her deep love of god, only equaled by her love of her family.
Corners are piled high with photo albums of her family and displayed on every wall and furniture surface are framed photos of her family; photos of each or her 8 children from baby pictures to recent photos, and showing their life stages in between. There are also pictures of her 25 grandchildren, 27 great grandchildren, and 3 great-great grandchildren. She so loved her family and loved to tell anyone who would listen all about each of them.
In talking with her nurse and my mother about the day she passed, there is no doubt that she knew it was time to go. She had been confused for several weeks and was not eating well, however on that day she was incredibly lucid. My mother had returned to her house while Grandma was to do her daily physical therapy. Nurse Terri said that Grandma told her she was going to skip therapy that day because God had told her to he didn’t want her working that hard on that day. She also made sure she had a good full meal before going back to her room for her nap. She passed away shortly after, quietly in her room. We all know that she made sure she wouldn’t be hungry on her journey to heaven.
Grandma lived in her own home, by herself, up until 3 months before she died. My mom would come by and check on her everyday to make sure she took her medicine, visit, and ensure she was okay. It was very hard on both of them to finally decide to enter the nursing home, but obviously it was the right thing to do. Just like Grandpa 20 years earlier, she didn’t stay long. Recently my mom asked her when her happiest times were. “In my whole life?” she asked; “well, yeah” mom said. Grandma thought about it a moment and replied, “When I was doing my chores.” Once she could do her chores anymore, and moved into the home, she lost her drive. I think she just got tired and really wanted to see Grandpa again. He’s been waiting for her for quite some time.
Grandma and Grandpa were married for 58 years, raised 8 successful children; none of which were ever in trouble with the law. They taught hard work, honesty, integrity and faithfulness through unflinching examples. I’m humbled and blessed to be a part of their legacy.
Happy birthday Grandma, rest well you deserve it. Tell Grandpa Hi for me and know that I love and miss you both. Till we meet again.
We buried my Grandma yesterday on her 99th birthday. As we sat around talking and telling stories about our memories of her, I couldn’t help but think of what a wonderful contribution she made to our world.
Obviously, she gave life to my mother and all her siblings, so without her, none of us gathered here would even exist without her. But it goes much more than that. She was an incredibly strong woman who in her own small way, broke many barriers and stereotypes over her lifetime.
She came to this country as a 3 year-old toddler and was the oldest of 11 kids. She worked long hard hours on her father’s farm, and was one of the first women to learn to drive that newfangled invention, the horse less carriage. She lost a brother at Pearl Harbor and proudly watched as her four sons served their country. She was Grandpa’s best friend and missed him dearly and talked of him everyday for the last 20 years.
To me of course, she was this little old lady who had a boisterous laugh and a warm kitchen full of cookies and fun, and now great memories. Over the years I’ve come to know her from a different perspective. She was more than a great Grandma; she was also a mother, wife and friend. The Priest summed up her essence in a few true words: fearless in faith. I never really noticed before this weekend, just how important her faith was to her, but as we looked around her house, suddenly it became starkly clear. Everywhere you looked, there are crucifixes, icons, and other evidence of her deep love of god, only equaled by her love of her family.
Corners are piled high with photo albums of her family and displayed on every wall and furniture surface are framed photos of her family; photos of each or her 8 children from baby pictures to recent photos, and showing their life stages in between. There are also pictures of her 25 grandchildren, 27 great grandchildren, and 3 great-great grandchildren. She so loved her family and loved to tell anyone who would listen all about each of them.
In talking with her nurse and my mother about the day she passed, there is no doubt that she knew it was time to go. She had been confused for several weeks and was not eating well, however on that day she was incredibly lucid. My mother had returned to her house while Grandma was to do her daily physical therapy. Nurse Terri said that Grandma told her she was going to skip therapy that day because God had told her to he didn’t want her working that hard on that day. She also made sure she had a good full meal before going back to her room for her nap. She passed away shortly after, quietly in her room. We all know that she made sure she wouldn’t be hungry on her journey to heaven.
Grandma lived in her own home, by herself, up until 3 months before she died. My mom would come by and check on her everyday to make sure she took her medicine, visit, and ensure she was okay. It was very hard on both of them to finally decide to enter the nursing home, but obviously it was the right thing to do. Just like Grandpa 20 years earlier, she didn’t stay long. Recently my mom asked her when her happiest times were. “In my whole life?” she asked; “well, yeah” mom said. Grandma thought about it a moment and replied, “When I was doing my chores.” Once she could do her chores anymore, and moved into the home, she lost her drive. I think she just got tired and really wanted to see Grandpa again. He’s been waiting for her for quite some time.
Grandma and Grandpa were married for 58 years, raised 8 successful children; none of which were ever in trouble with the law. They taught hard work, honesty, integrity and faithfulness through unflinching examples. I’m humbled and blessed to be a part of their legacy.
Happy birthday Grandma, rest well you deserve it. Tell Grandpa Hi for me and know that I love and miss you both. Till we meet again.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Mountains
One of the coolest things I’ve read in a long time was Sheila’s account of her experience traveling through Colorado many years ago. Recently, my wife and I were driving through Colorado and Utah and I kept thinking what it would be like for someone who spent their life in places like New York City, Chicago, LA, or even Atlanta, to see the West for the first time. How they would react if they were suddenly exposed to not only the wonder and majesty of the wide-open spaces and towering peaks, but to the lifestyle of those that live out here. Not those that live in Denver or Salt Lake City, but those that live in the many small high mountain towns; I mean really live there. Not the big city folks who spend a few weeks or months in their high country “cabins”; but the folks that make their living here. Those that work in the agriculture industry, or the family owned local restaurants.
I imagine it would be as foreign to them as my first big city experience was to me. I grew up in a town of 1500 people, and my high school class had 52 students before the dropouts and flunkies. This school had students from two different towns, and about a 20-mile radius of all the farms and ranches. The first time I was in a real metropolis scared the crap out of me. I was (still am to a degree) claustrophobic from the crowds of people, and not being able to see the horizon; sometimes for days! I imagine someone from the big city would have similar feelings of anxiety. Looking out across the horizon for 50 – 60 miles with no sign of civilization would be frightening as well as inspiring. I chuckle at the thought of having someone from NYC come visit us at the house we’re building back in my small hometown.
First, they would have to fly into Denver, and then be driven for 5 – 6 hours along two-lane state highways to a town with one traffic light. Finally, finish the trip out on eight miles of dirt road to a solar powered home with the nearest neighbor barely visible down the canyon. During the night, coyotes howling along the dark ridges would serenade them and if they get up early enough, they would see wild deer standing outside their window.
Mountain living is definitely laid back. I remember several years ago, my in-laws were visiting us in Colorado. My wife and I were camping on our property (where we’re now building our house) for two weeks in a tent, while the family stayed in town at an RV park. We were making dinner at the RV park, and realized we didn’t have any baked beans, and since it was a Sunday afternoon, the market was closed. (no such thing as a 24 hour market here!) I said I would run up to the camp and grab a can or two, which Grandma thought was ridiculous since it was close to 20 miles round trip. To us, it’s just part of life. You have to plan ahead and be willing to be flexible when needed. You want to see a movie? Fine, the nearest theater is at least 16 miles in the next town, and they have one screen!
Driving back through Utah that week, we were between Monticello and Moab as the sun was setting. The vermilion landscape was bathed in a blazing sunset of yellows, oranges, red, and purples; I wish I had the skill to describe the over-whelming BEAUTY of that vision. Its times like those that I’m reminded how lucky I am to live where I do. I like the big city, but Love my mountains. My Mom told me something a long time ago as I was leaving to join the Air Force; “The Mountains will always be here, and you will come back someday cause they get in you blood and will always draw you back.” In other words, I guess you can take the boy out of the mountains, but you can’t take the mountains out of the boy. Corny I know, but oh so true. I just wish everyone had the chance to REALLY see and experience them.
I imagine it would be as foreign to them as my first big city experience was to me. I grew up in a town of 1500 people, and my high school class had 52 students before the dropouts and flunkies. This school had students from two different towns, and about a 20-mile radius of all the farms and ranches. The first time I was in a real metropolis scared the crap out of me. I was (still am to a degree) claustrophobic from the crowds of people, and not being able to see the horizon; sometimes for days! I imagine someone from the big city would have similar feelings of anxiety. Looking out across the horizon for 50 – 60 miles with no sign of civilization would be frightening as well as inspiring. I chuckle at the thought of having someone from NYC come visit us at the house we’re building back in my small hometown.
First, they would have to fly into Denver, and then be driven for 5 – 6 hours along two-lane state highways to a town with one traffic light. Finally, finish the trip out on eight miles of dirt road to a solar powered home with the nearest neighbor barely visible down the canyon. During the night, coyotes howling along the dark ridges would serenade them and if they get up early enough, they would see wild deer standing outside their window.
Mountain living is definitely laid back. I remember several years ago, my in-laws were visiting us in Colorado. My wife and I were camping on our property (where we’re now building our house) for two weeks in a tent, while the family stayed in town at an RV park. We were making dinner at the RV park, and realized we didn’t have any baked beans, and since it was a Sunday afternoon, the market was closed. (no such thing as a 24 hour market here!) I said I would run up to the camp and grab a can or two, which Grandma thought was ridiculous since it was close to 20 miles round trip. To us, it’s just part of life. You have to plan ahead and be willing to be flexible when needed. You want to see a movie? Fine, the nearest theater is at least 16 miles in the next town, and they have one screen!
Driving back through Utah that week, we were between Monticello and Moab as the sun was setting. The vermilion landscape was bathed in a blazing sunset of yellows, oranges, red, and purples; I wish I had the skill to describe the over-whelming BEAUTY of that vision. Its times like those that I’m reminded how lucky I am to live where I do. I like the big city, but Love my mountains. My Mom told me something a long time ago as I was leaving to join the Air Force; “The Mountains will always be here, and you will come back someday cause they get in you blood and will always draw you back.” In other words, I guess you can take the boy out of the mountains, but you can’t take the mountains out of the boy. Corny I know, but oh so true. I just wish everyone had the chance to REALLY see and experience them.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Somethings never change...
It looks like the AF is adding the F-15 to the Aggressor squadron down at Nellis to compliment the F-16s already in use. I’m torn with the news of the re-activation of the 65th Aggressors. On one hand, I had a BLAST while assigned to both the 64th and 65th (in fact, I helped transition the 64th from the F-5 to the F-16 and “closed” the 65th) with the F-5Es and am proud and happy to see that great squadron reborn; yet on the other hand, I don’t really see the advantage of using the Eagle as an adversary. Just as I couldn’t (and still can’t) see the advantage of using the Viper.
See, back when we got rid of the F-5s from the aggressor role, most of us couldn’t understand why the AF was replacing the aggressors with the same airframe that the majority of our squadrons already flew. The purpose of the Aggressors is to train pilots how to fight an enemy that employs different tactics AND airframes then what we use. It’s called Dissimilar Air Combat Training (DACT). When you use Vipers against Vipers, you only get ½ the training. You get Similar Air Combat Training. By adding the Eagle to the mix, you still have the same problem. The Aggressors will now have the same airframes as over 90% of the entire fighter community.
The beauty of using the F-5 back in those days was it showed without a doubt just how important the tactics employed by the pilot were. The F-5 would consistently “win” engagements against the Vipers and Eagles; both far superior aircraft, by tactics. In a typical two-week deployment, the F-5s would start the week by spanking the Vipers or Eagles, and intensely debrief each mission. By the end of the deployment, the F-5s didn’t stand a chance. The Vipers and Eagles had learned how to not only employ their jets, but their minds as well. By using an inferior airframe and spanking the hotshots, it humbled the Viper and Eagle drivers enough to listen and learn.
Back when we closed the 65th and transitioned the 64th to the Viper, most of us wondered why the AF didn’t buy a squadron of F-20s or F-18s if they wanted to upgrade the Aggressors to better reflect our adversary’s capabilities. They could have continued the long tradition of providing superior DACT training with a more realistic representation of the threat. I’m wondering the same thing again; how can you have DACT with the same aircraft?
See, back when we got rid of the F-5s from the aggressor role, most of us couldn’t understand why the AF was replacing the aggressors with the same airframe that the majority of our squadrons already flew. The purpose of the Aggressors is to train pilots how to fight an enemy that employs different tactics AND airframes then what we use. It’s called Dissimilar Air Combat Training (DACT). When you use Vipers against Vipers, you only get ½ the training. You get Similar Air Combat Training. By adding the Eagle to the mix, you still have the same problem. The Aggressors will now have the same airframes as over 90% of the entire fighter community.
The beauty of using the F-5 back in those days was it showed without a doubt just how important the tactics employed by the pilot were. The F-5 would consistently “win” engagements against the Vipers and Eagles; both far superior aircraft, by tactics. In a typical two-week deployment, the F-5s would start the week by spanking the Vipers or Eagles, and intensely debrief each mission. By the end of the deployment, the F-5s didn’t stand a chance. The Vipers and Eagles had learned how to not only employ their jets, but their minds as well. By using an inferior airframe and spanking the hotshots, it humbled the Viper and Eagle drivers enough to listen and learn.
Back when we closed the 65th and transitioned the 64th to the Viper, most of us wondered why the AF didn’t buy a squadron of F-20s or F-18s if they wanted to upgrade the Aggressors to better reflect our adversary’s capabilities. They could have continued the long tradition of providing superior DACT training with a more realistic representation of the threat. I’m wondering the same thing again; how can you have DACT with the same aircraft?
Friday, January 20, 2006
Sundance Film Festival
Ah Sundance. What a shame it’s here again. Well, not really, more so it’s a shame the celebrities have to come to town with it. I dig the whole original spirit of Sundance but have been getting more and more jaded by the whole thing the last few years. It seems to have morphed into just another avenue for celebrities to get more press and stroke they’re already over-inflated egos. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overly critical, but I remember my first Sundance about 10 years ago, back when Park City was still a sleepy little ski town, where no one cared who was walking down the street. Celebrities were treated no different than the locals, and most importantly, most of them ACTED no different than the locals. No entourage, no big limos, no pretense.
Now, both the town and the attitudes (mostly of the celebrities) has changed. The town was completely re-done for the 2002 Olympic Winter Games, transforming its soul from the quaint mining-town-turned-ski-town with wholesome values into a glitzy terribly over-priced resort full of pretentious shops that cater exclusively to the rich and famous. Gone are the cool little local shops that sold local crafts, antiques, or showcasing local artists. The celebrities now roar into town in limos or high dollar SUVs (yeah, those things that pollute and kill, and that these same people wouldn’t be caught DEAD in back in LA) and they march down the streets with their “peeps” or “posse”, competing with each other for the privilege of recognition. It’s interesting that the only time you’ll hear a horn honk in Park City is during Sundance. See, they don’t understand that this isn’t LA and they aren’t Gods. The roads are small and traffic is congested during Sundance. The locals know and expect this. They’re good folks who know that during this time, it takes a bit longer to get from point A to point B. They adapt. They leave a little earlier and know there will be delays on the roads. They also know that blowing the horn isn’t going to magically part the red sea of brake lights so they can get where they’re going. They accept the traffic as part of the plan during these times. The same can’t be said about our esteemed visitors, who feel that their celebrity should gain them special favors. I’ve seen it first hand, over and over.
I’ve worked security for some of the venues and I’m still amazed at the number of times I was asked to break the rules so that some self-inflated ego could get a closer parking place, or access to an event simply because of who they are. Well Skippy, if you were that important, maybe you would have been invited mkay? Now move along. Buh bye. I really enjoyed the time a certain actor (whom I admired) turned to his toadies after I (a) refused to let him in, (b) acknowledged that yes I did know who he was, and (c) offered to let him in if he would simply show me the proper credentials; and said “Can you believe this guy? Some $6.00 an hour loser thinks he can keep ME out of here?” I still laugh at that one for a couple of reasons; first, I was a volunteer, so I wasn’t making $6.00 an hour, and second, yeah, I did keep him out! Sure, I could have let him in, and no one probably would have known, but I learned a little something during my 23+ years in the Military. Rules are there for a reason, whether we agree with them or not. Until the rules are changed, we need to abide by them except in extreme circumstances (sorry, but getting face time at “the” party isn’t extreme). And integrity; Integrity means doing the right thing even when no one will know otherwise. I’m sure (especially by the way he acted when trying to get me break the rules for him) he would have been grateful had I let him in. He probably would have remembered my “kindness” for all of about 6 or 8 steps past the barricade. However, I could not sacrifice my integrity for his temporary approval. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe, he had an inkling that you don’t always get what you want just because you have a bit of fame and money. From what I can see, I don’t think so.
Sundance is here again, and even Robert Redford has noticed the change in his creation. I hope he can get the festival back to its original intent, but somehow I’m afraid those days are done. Too bad, it used to be a real nice deal for all involved.
Now, both the town and the attitudes (mostly of the celebrities) has changed. The town was completely re-done for the 2002 Olympic Winter Games, transforming its soul from the quaint mining-town-turned-ski-town with wholesome values into a glitzy terribly over-priced resort full of pretentious shops that cater exclusively to the rich and famous. Gone are the cool little local shops that sold local crafts, antiques, or showcasing local artists. The celebrities now roar into town in limos or high dollar SUVs (yeah, those things that pollute and kill, and that these same people wouldn’t be caught DEAD in back in LA) and they march down the streets with their “peeps” or “posse”, competing with each other for the privilege of recognition. It’s interesting that the only time you’ll hear a horn honk in Park City is during Sundance. See, they don’t understand that this isn’t LA and they aren’t Gods. The roads are small and traffic is congested during Sundance. The locals know and expect this. They’re good folks who know that during this time, it takes a bit longer to get from point A to point B. They adapt. They leave a little earlier and know there will be delays on the roads. They also know that blowing the horn isn’t going to magically part the red sea of brake lights so they can get where they’re going. They accept the traffic as part of the plan during these times. The same can’t be said about our esteemed visitors, who feel that their celebrity should gain them special favors. I’ve seen it first hand, over and over.
I’ve worked security for some of the venues and I’m still amazed at the number of times I was asked to break the rules so that some self-inflated ego could get a closer parking place, or access to an event simply because of who they are. Well Skippy, if you were that important, maybe you would have been invited mkay? Now move along. Buh bye. I really enjoyed the time a certain actor (whom I admired) turned to his toadies after I (a) refused to let him in, (b) acknowledged that yes I did know who he was, and (c) offered to let him in if he would simply show me the proper credentials; and said “Can you believe this guy? Some $6.00 an hour loser thinks he can keep ME out of here?” I still laugh at that one for a couple of reasons; first, I was a volunteer, so I wasn’t making $6.00 an hour, and second, yeah, I did keep him out! Sure, I could have let him in, and no one probably would have known, but I learned a little something during my 23+ years in the Military. Rules are there for a reason, whether we agree with them or not. Until the rules are changed, we need to abide by them except in extreme circumstances (sorry, but getting face time at “the” party isn’t extreme). And integrity; Integrity means doing the right thing even when no one will know otherwise. I’m sure (especially by the way he acted when trying to get me break the rules for him) he would have been grateful had I let him in. He probably would have remembered my “kindness” for all of about 6 or 8 steps past the barricade. However, I could not sacrifice my integrity for his temporary approval. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe, he had an inkling that you don’t always get what you want just because you have a bit of fame and money. From what I can see, I don’t think so.
Sundance is here again, and even Robert Redford has noticed the change in his creation. I hope he can get the festival back to its original intent, but somehow I’m afraid those days are done. Too bad, it used to be a real nice deal for all involved.
Just My 3 Cents
This is the first of what I’m sure will be many posts about celebrities. Celebrities have their place in our society, but I’m afraid many of them don’t know exactly where that place is. This is my poor attempt to put my views to paper in some sort of coherent thought.
What is it with celebrities and their perception that they’re so much smarter than the rest of us? I don’t get it, I mean obviously, some of them are smart, but for the most part, they’re merely very good at what they do, whether it’s singing, telling jokes, directing films, or acting. Once they’ve ”made it” and are successful in their field, they’re paid INSANE amounts of money, and everyone around them fawns all over them, telling them how great they are. They are great, at what they do, but I think that’s where they start to get confused. A great actor isn’t necessarily a great intellectual, foreign policy expert, or economist; just as a great mechanic or real estate agent isn’t. I have a theory about why celebrities fall into the trap of thinking they’re more than what they really are.
I think these celebrities, when they’re away from the audience and their circle of leeches, can’t help but do a little inner reflection. Alone in the dark, I think they truly understand who and what they are. They. Are. Fakes. Actors PRETEND they’re someone or something else for a living. The persona on the screen isn’t them. Someone else writes the words they say. Directors guide them to get the reaction they see in their vision of the character. The actor then looks at himself and sees…an empty vessel, a shell that is told how to dress, what to say and how to say it.
All of us want to do something important with our lives; we want to know we made a difference during our time here, and yet what really does an actor contribute? Don’t get me wrong, I love movies and I respect actors for what they do in their craft, but that’s where I draw the line. Their job is to entertain me, nothing more. They’re not there to tell me how to live my life, spend my money, or vote in elections. I don’t want my Doctor or mechanic to do these things, so why would I want an actor or musician too? I’m pretty sure the Hollywood elite doesn’t want me or their dry cleaner to give them life advice, so why is it okay for them? They all have their jobs, their professions, their area of expertise and that is what I want and expect from them, nothing more. Granted, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and their right to express it is protected, however, there is nothing that says I have to listen to them. That really bugs them too; they seem to think that because of their fame, their opinion is gospel.
If a celebrity is truly concerned with an issue, then he needs to get involved in the political process and change things. I don’t mean using his celebrity to advance his ideas, but run for office. Put himself in the line of fire, where he has to be responsible for the results of his convictions and actions. There’s nothing wrong with using his celebrity to bring attention to an issue, but unless he's willing to put it on the line and run for office, then that’s as far as it should go. Don’t attack those that disagree, don’t threaten to leave the country if things don’t go your way (well, you can, but at least have the decency to make good on your threat if things don’t go your way, mkay Alec?) unless you’re willing to take real risks.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, when a celebrity steps outside his realm and starts forcing his opinions at me, it ruins their performances for me. I can’t watch their movies or listen to their music without thinking about how they pissed me off with their unwanted “advice”. This is especially true with actors. I can seldom see them as the character they’re supposed to be playing. Instead, I see the ACTOR, and when you see the actor and not the character, the illusion is blown. I can’t believe the story at that point. Maybe it’s just me…
What is it with celebrities and their perception that they’re so much smarter than the rest of us? I don’t get it, I mean obviously, some of them are smart, but for the most part, they’re merely very good at what they do, whether it’s singing, telling jokes, directing films, or acting. Once they’ve ”made it” and are successful in their field, they’re paid INSANE amounts of money, and everyone around them fawns all over them, telling them how great they are. They are great, at what they do, but I think that’s where they start to get confused. A great actor isn’t necessarily a great intellectual, foreign policy expert, or economist; just as a great mechanic or real estate agent isn’t. I have a theory about why celebrities fall into the trap of thinking they’re more than what they really are.
I think these celebrities, when they’re away from the audience and their circle of leeches, can’t help but do a little inner reflection. Alone in the dark, I think they truly understand who and what they are. They. Are. Fakes. Actors PRETEND they’re someone or something else for a living. The persona on the screen isn’t them. Someone else writes the words they say. Directors guide them to get the reaction they see in their vision of the character. The actor then looks at himself and sees…an empty vessel, a shell that is told how to dress, what to say and how to say it.
All of us want to do something important with our lives; we want to know we made a difference during our time here, and yet what really does an actor contribute? Don’t get me wrong, I love movies and I respect actors for what they do in their craft, but that’s where I draw the line. Their job is to entertain me, nothing more. They’re not there to tell me how to live my life, spend my money, or vote in elections. I don’t want my Doctor or mechanic to do these things, so why would I want an actor or musician too? I’m pretty sure the Hollywood elite doesn’t want me or their dry cleaner to give them life advice, so why is it okay for them? They all have their jobs, their professions, their area of expertise and that is what I want and expect from them, nothing more. Granted, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and their right to express it is protected, however, there is nothing that says I have to listen to them. That really bugs them too; they seem to think that because of their fame, their opinion is gospel.
If a celebrity is truly concerned with an issue, then he needs to get involved in the political process and change things. I don’t mean using his celebrity to advance his ideas, but run for office. Put himself in the line of fire, where he has to be responsible for the results of his convictions and actions. There’s nothing wrong with using his celebrity to bring attention to an issue, but unless he's willing to put it on the line and run for office, then that’s as far as it should go. Don’t attack those that disagree, don’t threaten to leave the country if things don’t go your way (well, you can, but at least have the decency to make good on your threat if things don’t go your way, mkay Alec?) unless you’re willing to take real risks.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, when a celebrity steps outside his realm and starts forcing his opinions at me, it ruins their performances for me. I can’t watch their movies or listen to their music without thinking about how they pissed me off with their unwanted “advice”. This is especially true with actors. I can seldom see them as the character they’re supposed to be playing. Instead, I see the ACTOR, and when you see the actor and not the character, the illusion is blown. I can’t believe the story at that point. Maybe it’s just me…
Sunday, January 15, 2006
MIA Blogs
I first discovered blogs about two years ago. I don’t remember how I found it, but I stumbled across Bill Whittle's ejectejecteject and was immediately blown away. I didn’t know what a blog was, but I know when writing speaks to me. I started reading every one of his posts and eagerly looked (still do) forward to his next post. From there I found many others with varied themes; some political, some personal, some military, and some just damn funny. The thing I don’t like about blogs is when one of your favorite writers quits blogging. I don’t blame anyone for quitting; blogging is a very personal thing and there are multiple reasons to quit, but some of these writers have such a gift, and their words are such a joy to read that their absence leaves a void. It’s like reading a book by your favorite author. When you finish that book, you just can’t wait for their next work to come out. Unfortunately, when a blogger quits, you may never have the pleasure of reading their work again.
Some bloggers I REALLY miss are RTG, Blue Eyed Infidel, Red2Alpha and his wife Frenchy. RTG’s blog was a brilliant mix of political insight, personal reflection, and incredible fiction. She writes with a raw, honest passion and political insight beyond compare. Blue Eyed Infidel always made me smile, and frequently laugh out loud. I’ll never forget her description of why cats are dullards. I wish I had printed it out! Red2Alpha and Frenchy gave an unprecedented view of the trials and feelings of a soldier serving in a combat zone and his wife at home. The pain of losing friends, and pieces of himself in combat, gave an insight to the humanity of the combat soldier.
Like I said, I really miss these bloggers and hope that some day they start writing in a public forum again, whether it be blogging or books. Until then, I’m thankful I had the privilege of reading their words. I just hope they know how much they were appreciated and are missed.
Some bloggers I REALLY miss are RTG, Blue Eyed Infidel, Red2Alpha and his wife Frenchy. RTG’s blog was a brilliant mix of political insight, personal reflection, and incredible fiction. She writes with a raw, honest passion and political insight beyond compare. Blue Eyed Infidel always made me smile, and frequently laugh out loud. I’ll never forget her description of why cats are dullards. I wish I had printed it out! Red2Alpha and Frenchy gave an unprecedented view of the trials and feelings of a soldier serving in a combat zone and his wife at home. The pain of losing friends, and pieces of himself in combat, gave an insight to the humanity of the combat soldier.
Like I said, I really miss these bloggers and hope that some day they start writing in a public forum again, whether it be blogging or books. Until then, I’m thankful I had the privilege of reading their words. I just hope they know how much they were appreciated and are missed.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Honor
So this blog friend I have is getting ready to embark on a life changing journey this Tuesday. She’s ready and we’re all going to benefit from her choice. She’s heading off to basic training in the US Army, and that takes a special person.
People join the military for many reasons; education, travel, skills, or even just for a job. However, something happens that most don’t expect, something almost magical begins to happen during basic. Recruits go through a metamorphosis and emerge from training changed for life. They learn much more than how to march or field strip their weapon. They learn teamwork, responsibility, and most importantly, they learn the importance of HONOR. Honor is a key ingredient missing from most of society these days. Movies, music, sports, government and even religion are overflowing with examples of people without honor. We seem to embrace these dishonorable examples as desirable, and reject or ridicule those who display this critical trait. The cornerstone of the military is honor. Honor allows us to perform the mission for the better good for society as a whole, no matter the personal sacrifices required of the members. Honor is not easy, but honor will get you through difficult, trying times. And honor, once obtained, is one of the most precious possessions you can have. To lose it, is one of the most devastating losses anyone can endure.
The person who that emerges on the far side of basic is forever changed. Whether they make the military a career of not, the skills they learn there will serve them well in any endeavor.
Like I said, she’s ready for this journey and I know the butterfly that will emerge from the chrysalis of basic training will be better than ever. Good luck girl!
People join the military for many reasons; education, travel, skills, or even just for a job. However, something happens that most don’t expect, something almost magical begins to happen during basic. Recruits go through a metamorphosis and emerge from training changed for life. They learn much more than how to march or field strip their weapon. They learn teamwork, responsibility, and most importantly, they learn the importance of HONOR. Honor is a key ingredient missing from most of society these days. Movies, music, sports, government and even religion are overflowing with examples of people without honor. We seem to embrace these dishonorable examples as desirable, and reject or ridicule those who display this critical trait. The cornerstone of the military is honor. Honor allows us to perform the mission for the better good for society as a whole, no matter the personal sacrifices required of the members. Honor is not easy, but honor will get you through difficult, trying times. And honor, once obtained, is one of the most precious possessions you can have. To lose it, is one of the most devastating losses anyone can endure.
The person who that emerges on the far side of basic is forever changed. Whether they make the military a career of not, the skills they learn there will serve them well in any endeavor.
Like I said, she’s ready for this journey and I know the butterfly that will emerge from the chrysalis of basic training will be better than ever. Good luck girl!
Friday, January 13, 2006
Welcome
Welcome everyone, this is my blog where I get to rant and rave, or simply lay out what's on my mind.
The posts will be infrequent at first, and I tend to get a little wound up with political issues, so if you don't like what you see, well, go away. I don't mind opposing views, in fact I welcome them as long as they are well thought out. I won't bother to respond to worthless drivel based soley on your hate for a certain candidate or party.
I hope to have fun here, some come by and let me know what you think! Cheers all
The posts will be infrequent at first, and I tend to get a little wound up with political issues, so if you don't like what you see, well, go away. I don't mind opposing views, in fact I welcome them as long as they are well thought out. I won't bother to respond to worthless drivel based soley on your hate for a certain candidate or party.
I hope to have fun here, some come by and let me know what you think! Cheers all
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