General – Page 57 – The Daily Brief

Sooo….

21. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Ain't That America?, Domestic, General

I’ve been off-line since Sunday midnight, when a thunderstorm rolling through fried my Time-Warner provided modem. We have been waiting all day (and growing steadily more discontented with the service provided) awaiting the arrival of a skilled tech, with a replacement modem… who was cheerful, apologetic and competant, when at last he finally arrived.
I had sworn an oath in blood to find another internet and TV service provider, if we were not back on line by 9 PM tonight. Thanks to Orlando, I do not have to deliver on that threat. This time, at least

So, I’m back… did I miss anything?

Two can play that game

21. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

“I know more about war than troops” is the headline of a WorldNetDaily story concering Richard Belzer. Mr. Belzer was on Real Time with Bill Maher recently and in an exchange with Florida Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen he remarked that “[The Soldiers are] 19 and 20-year-old kids who couldn’t get a job,” and since Soldiers don’t read as much as Detective Munch does we’re not qualified to have opinions about the war in which we’re involved. I’m being unfair, I think he means that we’re not as qualified to have an opinion as a well read actor.

There are several things in that article that just set my teeth on edge. The biggest one is the disconnect between what Mr. Maher and Mr. Belzer think the Army represents. They both remark how the people serving in the military are there “because [they] probably couldn’t find other employment,” and “couldn’t get a job.” I’d like to point out that being in the Army is a job. And it’s a job that’s a damn sight better than most entry level positions available to a fresh-out-of-high-school kid. You can find jobs that pay better, but between the GI Bill, full health and dental insurance, and vocational training that is second to none, you’ll be hard pressed to find a better opportunity for a kid who just walked across the stage. And I doubt I need to mention the pride, honor, and respect that come from wearing the uniform, things hard to come by when you’re asking “do you want fries with that?” while doing the jobs most other recent grads are going into.

My distaste at Mr. Belzer’s remarks goes deeper than his misconception that the Army is filled with dead-enders who don’t have any other options. What really sticks in my craw is his belief that the opinion of Soldiers returning from the fight is less valuable than his because they may be less well read. I’ll be the first to admit that not every Soldier is going to be applying for Rhodes Scholar status. But there are quite a few Soldiers who are every bit as educated and well read as Mr. Belzer, and I’d be thrilled to have them on my team in a game of Trivial Pursuit.

This article makes me wish that the left side of the politcal spectrum had an evil mastermind like Karl Rove. The entire reason Cindy Sheehan hasn’t disappeared from the media conciousness is because she was sold as having absolute moral authority over the war becasue of being a Gold Star mother. Mr. Belzer’s opinion that Soldiers lack the authority to have valuable opinions on the war because of their proximity to it kinda flies in the face of the “absolute moral authority” arguement. At least it seems like it does to me. An evil mastermind for the left would do a better job of controlling the herd to keep their message focused.

I watch Law and Order: SVU almost nightly. I like the show, and find it interesting. Sometimes they drive me nuts by inserting a political edge that I don’t agree with, but if it gets too heavy-handed I can always change the channel. I think that Mr. Belzer plays a very good left-wing, conspiracy theory driven detective. Turns out the only part he was acting was the “detective”.

Oh well, I’m on leave this week and Mrs. Detailed Recruiter is down for the count with a stomach flu, so I need to go check on her.

HT B5

SNOW DAY!

19. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

With the first and probably last Winter Storm Warning of the season well under way, the probability of the next couple of days being good for nothing work wise is high.

The schools have already decided to close for tomorrow and the worst of the snow isn’t supposed to hit until then.

So…if we do go to work tomorrow it will be delayed reporting AND early release from duty. Oh, and my supervisor will be on leave also.

I don’t know why, but it’s a comforting feeling to know at 2148 on a Sunday night that Monday’s a total washout when it comes to work…almost as good as a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Square Hole In the Ground: Progress Report #1

19. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Domestic, General, Working In A Salt Mine...

About 1/4th of house painted— that portion of it at the front, and along the side to the front door; sort of a yellow orangish color, to match the bricks. Neigbors agree, color good match for bricks. Excellent contrast with garage door, sort of a pale green, about the color of surgical greens. Blondie pointed out that it looks quite terribly 70ies. (Deep sigh… she has a point, but I think it looks more like a pastel Easter egg. )

Needs a bit of touching up, as some of it was painted in a hurry. It was supposed to rain today, so we worked on the bits that were under an overhang, and prayed that whatever rain came down would not be blowing slantways.

Installed new porch light. Installed wires along garage wall to tie the climbing roses to; looks very nice, very Italianate, with rambler foliage and deep red roses against the painted wall. Scoured drips of paint off sidewalk and entry-way bricks. Gathered up trash, sealed paint pans and rollers in plastic bags, returned borrowed drill to Judy. Worked on excuse as to why I have not yet bought one of my own.

Completly exhausted; blogging will be light.

G’night.

Would Someone Smarter Than Me Please Explain This

18. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, Rant

As might be expected, from this post, I’ve been reading up on Social Security lately. Mostly it’s been focused on SSDI/SSI. But I believe that, in this case, similar rules exist for regular retirement.

Let’s say Joe Citizen gets out of high school, and starts earning wages – perhaps civilian, perhaps military, it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s earning wages, and paying FICA. Thirty years down the road (at the ripe old age of 48), Joe Citizen stops earning wages… perhaps he becomes a street bum, or perhaps he “retires”, and simply lives off pension and savings – whatever. (I would include going expat, but I believe the US is one of the few nations of the world which goes after its citizens for taxes when they are living, working, and paying their host nation’s taxes, in a foreign country.) What’s important is that Joe Citizen doesn’t pay FICA for twenty years…

As I understand it, when Joe Citizen turns 68, and goes to collect Social Security, it’s as if he had never paid FICA at all. Is this correct?

Trust Fund my ass!

And You Thought National ID Cards Were An Assult On Our Rights…

18. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Domestic, General

…Just wait until you check your mailbox and find the Census Bureau’s new American Community Survey. Phyllis Schlafly is rightly appalled:

Our inquisitive federal government has been demanding that selected U.S. residents answer 73 nosy questions. They are threatened with a fine of $5,000 for failure to respond.

[…]

Beginning only in 1960, the ten-year census-taking significantly changed. The government began sending a long form with many questions to a limited number of persons, randomly selected, and a short form with only six questions to all other U.S. residents.

The government is now jumping the gun on the 2010 census, and without public announcement is already sending out an extremely long form, starting with a few thousand mailings each month to a handful of residents in widely scattered small towns that don’t generate national media. Recipients can’t find neighbors who received the same mailing, so it’s difficult to avoid the impression that the project was planned to avoid publicity and citizen opposition.

[…]

The survey asks how much you pay each month for electricity, gas, water, rent, real estate taxes, fire or flood insurance, plus six very specific questions about your first and second monthly mortgage payments. There are questions about your telephone and automobile, and about how many months of the year you and others occupy the residence.

The survey then gets really personal, demanding the answers to 42 questions about you and about every other person who resides in your household. Person 1 is used like a private investigator to extract the information from everybody else, and warned that if anyone doesn’t want to answer your nosy questions, you must provide the name and telephone number of such person so Big Brother can follow up.

The information demanded for you and every other person includes very specific questions about what kind of school you and each other one attended and to what grade level, what is each person’s “ancestry or ethnic origin” (no matter if your ancestors came here hundreds of years ago), what language you speak at home, how well you speak English, where you lived one year ago, what are specific physical, mental or emotional health conditions, and whether you have given birth during the past year.

More questions demand that you tell the government exactly where you are employed, what transportation you use to get to work, how many people ride in the vehicle with you, how many minutes it takes you to get to work, whether you have been laid off or absent from your job or business, how many weeks you worked during the last year, what kind of a job you have (for-profit company, not-for-profit company, government, self-employed), what kind of business it is, exactly what kind of work you did, what was your last year’s wage or salary, and what was your other income from any other source.

The Census Bureau warns: “We may combine your answers with information that you gave to other agencies.” (Does that mean IRS? Social Security? New Hires Directory? Child support enforcement? Criminal databases? Commercial databases?)

But this is not exactly news, the Census Bureau has been doing these things for years. As Schlafly said, it started as a very limited thing way back in 1960. Since then, it has been growing steadily more intrusive, more frequent, and imposing upon more of our population. This is another example of bureaucrats with way too much time on their hands. The Constitution calls for a census every ten years. Assuming the Census Bureau even has the authority to ask anything more than the number of people in a home, and their ages (and perhaps their sex, and their status as slaves or freemen 🙂 ), what gives them the right to go snooping around on this time frame?

They are discussing this right now on C-SPAN’s Washington Journal. There aren’t quite as many idiots calling in as usual, but there are some. The moonbat barking most loudly proclaimed “the government needs this information to protect us.” Yeah, perhaps – in the same way a mother protects her infant child! Several others have said the government needs this information to better craft social programs – social programs it has no place engaging in in the first place.

The wisest caller said this: “When a questionnaire comes, throw it in the trash, and deny you ever received it.” I’ll go further than that: If they persist, and say, send someone to your home, you first stall and reschedule as many times as you can get away with – even to the point of, when a surveyor comes to your door, saying “oh, I’m sorry, something just came up…” Once you’ve reached the end of that line, use the “I can’t seem to recall” ploy; make it as difficult for them to gather their precious data as possible. For instance, I really “can’t seem to recall” what sort of fuel heats our home. I know it’s not coal or wood, because I just twist the thermostat, and it starts getting warm, so it must be either propane, butane, natural gas, electric or steam. Similarly, from their 2005 questionnaire instruction guide (15 page PDF), when my sister comes to visit, she sleeps on the patio. (Living in the Inland Empire, she likes the coastal night air.) And we don’t use it for much else, so it must be a bedroom. But a similar argument can be made for that big room between my bedroom and the front door, so this apartment must have four bedrooms. Ah, the opportunities for monkeywrenching both pique and delight the imagination! 🙂

Blogging May Be A Bit Light For The Next Few Days

17. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, Site News

At least my own blogging. But I’m sure the rest of the team has plenty to say.

I have an Administrative Law Judge hearing on my Social Security Disability claim Wednesday morning. This is the second rung up the appeal ladder. I am going pro per; and, while I know quite a lot about certain fields of the law – for a layman, this ain’t one of ’em. I really should have retained an attorney, but the information I received from the SSA really gave me a false impression about how complex preparing a proper and convincing case is.

Fortunately, the ALJ has agreed to look at what I have on Wednesday, and give me time to get an attorney, if he thinks I’m in over my head. This gives me lots of reason to be hopeful, as though he’s looked at what they have in their files already, and thinks my claim has absolutely no merit (HIGHLY unlikely), or it’s such a slam-dunk, an attorney would be a waste of money (they get 25% of your back payments, plus expenses). Even if it’s not a slam-dunk (and not without merit), I don’t see how he would deny my appeal at this point, without giving me a chance to get lawyer.

But, in any event, I intend to present the best case I can. Wish me luck.

Update: I’ve just returned from the library with Nolo’s Guide to Social Security Disability: Getting & Keeping Your Benefits by David A. Morton III, M.D. (ISBN: 0-87337-914-4). Nolo has a really good reputation for lay legal manuals. And this appears to be no exception. Still, if any of you out there are attorneys or doctors, with disability appeal experience, and care to render some advice, or if any of you can point me towards some more resources, it would be most welcome, thanks.

A Square Hole In the Ground…

16. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Domestic, General, Pajama Game, Working In A Salt Mine...

…Into which you throw money— and that is a house, or so sayeth Dave Barry, who adapted the saying (or so I believe) from a famous witticism about yachts. There is something about owning your own private patch of paradise, it satisfies some deep and atavistic impulse, even though that private patch may be quite modest, not the stuff of which “House Beautiful” or “Country Life” photo features are made. A couple of Christmases ago, the staff Christmas party for my weekend job was at one of those houses that could, in fact, feature very nicely in one of those magazines. (I work at a public radio outlet on weekends. It’s single weekend shift, just to keep my hand in. The pay is a couple of bucks more an hour than minimum wage, and a couple of bucks less than the hourly rate for my Mon-Fri job.) The house was one of those lavish, sprawling jobs, on a hilltop north of town, with a spectacular view, a terrace and a pool, landscaped and manicured, marble kitchen countertops and tile floors, every top-o-the-line appliance, furniture, fitting and convenience. Fifty or so circulating guests barely filled up the adjoining sitting room, dining room and kitchen.

It was a lovely house, or what I saw of it was, at least. The owners lived in it alone, and their grown children and their grandchildren visited often, but I thought about how empty the place would seem with just the two of them in it, rattling around like two peas in a huge, empty gourd and the very thought gave me the heeby-jeebies. I’d been informed for years by all sorts of TV shows and home interior-decorating porn that I should want a house just like it, but I was ever so glad to get back to my cozy little book-lined living room, with it’s blue-striped curtains and blue and white pottery, and a cat asleep on practically every soft and horizontal surface. At least, if some perv were trying to break in, I should know it right away. I wouldn’t have to hike an 8th of a mile to the other end of the mansion to find out for sure. I didn’t envy the owners of that house in the least, in spite of every inducement from the surrounding culture to do so. It was a very nice house, a lovely house, with a splendid view, and I was everlastingly grateful that I was not the one expected to live in it. One woman’s dream-house is the next woman’s nightmare-house. As my mother so cogently observed, the larger it is, the more time it takes to clean.

It’s not like I was immune to the dream house— I built scale model houses and 1/12th scale interiors for years, and carted a collection of 1/12th scale furniture and accessories around the world for most of my time in the Air Force. This was always a marvel to my friends: tiny chairs and desks, printed wallpaper with the tiniest patterns, terra cotta floor tiles the size of a thumbnail, and copper pots, and wine glasses and all. The best of my miniature stuff is housed in a dollhouse built to look like a log cabin—the logs crafted out of a wooden crate I picked out of a neighbor’s trash when I lived in San Lamberto, outside Zaragoza AB. I spent hours at the workbench in whatever work area, in whatever house I lived in, making tiny furniture, fitting kitchen cabinets and flooring into scale interiors, gluing slips of shingles to the roof, and creating plates of realistic food (sometimes on the slips of plastic from the insides of soda bottles, which— in the miniature world, looked exactly like paper plates) out of fimo plastic clay, rosin and various clear or tintable latex media.

But all this hobby building went by the wayside when I had a real house to play with, a house of my own, which I could paint whatever color I liked, and replace full-size fixtures and fittings as the mood and my pocketbook allowed me. I have barely touched my miniature things, and haven’t built another 12th scale environment since I had a full-sized place of my own to play with. I wonder now, how much of that nesting impulse was just diverted to the miniature scale as an outlet, a portable outlet, one that I did not have to leave behind whenever the Air Force moved me on. Perhaps a lot of my disinclination to pack up and move on, yet again, as I was coming on to 20 years TAFMS, was due to the fact that I had a house of my own, a place where I had planted a garden and begin to fit out the place to suit myself, secure in the knowledge that I owned it, that whatever in the world came about, I could paint it whatever color I wished.

And over the next couple of weeks, Blondie and I are doing the outside: a sort of dusty peach color for the walls, with off-white trim, something that will match the color of the bricks. All the most successful color schemes in the neighborhood were those chosen by people who took a care for the color of the bricks. The garage door and the front and garage door will be a contrast, a pale mint-green. We’ll be doing the trim and the garage door this weekend, and the body of the house next… it really is not much a change from doing a miniature house; just that the stock and supplies are very much bigger, and the tools are heavier.

New kind of phishing, or what?

16. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

Of all the crazy emails I”ve gotten over the years, of people phishing for info, this most recent one floored me. I just got an email, purporting to be from EBay, appearing to be sent from their “ask ebay member a question” thing.

Subject line was: Question for item #5880058165 – PANASONIC 50 TH-50PHD8UK PLASMA TELEVISION IN STOCK

Message was: This message was sent while the listing was active.
Hey are you going to buy the unit or not??? It appears to me that you’re nothing but a fraud!! I’m reporting you to ebay !

Naturally, I was confused, since I’ve not bid on any EBay items in over a year. So I pulled up full headers, and forwarded it to spoof@ebay.com.

Then, while typing this post, I thought — Hmmm…. let me just go look… here’s the link to the listing for the item referenced.

It had zero bids, and was removed by seller due to an error. So obviously the email I got was bogus. What I originally feared was that someone was using my ebay account to bid on things. But that can’t be, because the email I got didn’t come to my registered EBay email address. It came to the email address that’s registered with my PayPal account.

I hate phishers.

Taliban at Yale still an issue

13. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: A Href, General, Home Front

Let me say up front that I don’t read many newspapers, aside from USA Today while on a business trip, because I don’t have the time/money to waste on print media. So I honestly don’t know how much the news media is covering the Taliban-member-at-Yale kerfluffle. But Yale continues to hide behind a wall of silence while working hard to encourage alumni to continue giving.

In today’s Opinion Journal, John Fund talks about said kerfluffle, and one Yale administrator’s inappropriate response to some critical comments.

Seems some dissatisfied alums have launched a protest called “Nail Yale.” You can read about it at Townhall.com Their premise is that since among other atrocities, the Taliban would yank out the fingernails of women wearing nail polish, how about if all those Yale supporters, instead of sending money this year, send Yale a fake fingernail, preferably painted red.

I especially liked the part where the authors of the commentary stated:

If you do have some connection with Yale, please tell them so in your letter and explain that you are withholding your donations until they end the disgrace of allowing America’s unrepentant enemy an opportunity which thousands of smart, deserving kids in Afghanistan, America or anywhere, who have been studying diligently instead of shilling for a brutal regime of retrograde, misogynist, terrorist-abetting, drug-running, Buddha-blasting, gay-murdering, freedom-hating tyrants, never received.

Feel free to point out the hyprocrisy of Yale’s decision to admit Sayeed Rahmatullah Hashemi, who supported a regime that killed homosexuals, stoned women, tortured/killed many, and destroyed Buddhas, even though Yale keeps ROTC off campus and files briefs with the Supreme Court protesting the military’s right to recruit on campus.

Most importantly, send your money somewhere else. While Yale made a choice to embrace an unapologetic supporter of a regime which oppressed women and sheltered Osama bin Laden, we prefer to aid organizations that support the troops who defeated that barbarous regime.

That last paragraph was followed by several links to projects that support the troops, such as Operation Valour-IT.

Well.

It seems that not everyone who read said column were as intrigued by it as I was. One Yale administrator sent an anonymous email to the column’s authors, asking them if they were “retarded.” The full text of the email is in the Opinion Journal piece. The authors used Yale’s public IT database to track the anonymous email back to its originator, Alexis Surovov, assistant director of giving at Yale Law School. John Fund was able to talk to the Mr Surovov, and his column today details that conversation.

Yale, of course, is continuing its wall of silence. Mr Surovov acted in a private capacity, even though he used Yale’s equipment to do so. No one has yet answered the question of how Mr Surovov found out the giving records of the 2 authors (he references it in his email to them), or how he found out one author’s maiden name or her private email address.

“Yale is practicing a most unusual media strategy,” says Merrie Spaeth, a public relations executive whose father and uncle went to Yale. “I’d call it ‘Just say nothing.’ ” Another PR expert characterized Yale’s strategy as “Trust that people will lose interest in the questions if there are no answers.”

All in all, it was an interesting read. Oh, Fund also quotes Yale’s official response in its entirety (easy to do, since it’s so short). I especially like the opening sentence:

Ramatullah Hashemi escaped the wreckage of Afghanistan and was approved by the U.S. government for a visa to study in this country.

He escaped the wreckage he helped create, and somehow our immigration folks granted him a Visa. Did we not know he was a Taliban member? Should we not be cancelling his Visa? After all, didn’t we deport an elderly formerly Nazi Guard when he was discovered here, almost 50 years after WWII ended? If so, why is this Taliban official (surely a more important person than a Nazi prison guard) still in our country?

Thoughts? Comments? Am I all wet, or *should* we be hearing more about this, until Yale decides to break its wall of silence? How far should tolerance and understanding go? Should we ever draw a line and say “this far, but no farther?” If so, where should that line be?

Just thinking out loud, and wondering what others are thinking…

Harsh reality

12. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, GWOT

Sometimes we have parents who call into the recruiting station looking to get their children into the military. Sometimes the parents has a genuine concern for their child and feel that the military (Army in my case) will allow their child to better achieve their goals than any other option. Sometimes though you get the parents who just want their little demon to be someone elses problem. Those parents can make for some of the more… entertaining… moments in a recruiter’s day.

I mention this because of a story my lovely wife pointed out to me this morning. I can’t speak for the nation as a whole. For all I know once your cross into Pacific or Central time zones the 18-24 age group stops being a gaggle of fat, stupid, criminals, working on their GED with two too many children at home. I exagerate the problem, but not by much. For the recruiter on the street there are very slim, qualified, pickings. Prospects and their parents often don’t realize how tough it can be to get into the military.

It always rankles my chain when an applicant or an influencer remarks “What do you mean you can’t take Skippy (me)? We’re at war. Thought y’all were letting anyone in.” I think it’s remnant of the “Go to war, go to jail” era. For some reason the military has done a very, very poor job of communicating the concept that we are a very professional force. A professional force that only succeeds because we focus on accepting the best. Don’t get me wrong, the Army will take someone who is less than the best. Low ASVAB scores, law violations, etc. However they are few and far between, and do go through an involved screening process. I’m sure most of the writers on this blog can thing of plenty of people who made them wonder just what happened to procurement standards. Like a cover charge at a bar, the enlistment standards keep most of the trash out, not all of it.

By the way, those reading this should know that I’m a very stream-of-conscious writer. I do have a point, but I sometimes lose it and take a paragraph to find it again.

Anyways, this past week one of my fellow recruiters had to deliver some very harsh news to a mother. The news being that her sone was ineligible to enlist. Seems that Skippy had picked up a couple DUIs and assorted minor in possession of alcohol charges. By themselves these would have been problematic. However, Skippy had failed to pay some fines, missed some court dates, and actually had a warrant issued for his arrest. Mom knew none of this. So she wasn’t too happy that her couch-potato, booze-hound son was going to remain her problem for the forseeable future. We were also visited in the station by a father, with his sone, who wasn’t thrilled to learn that his son’s domestic violence charge, and irritable bowel syndrome, were going to keep him at home, and not in boots.

Thinking this over, and seeing the trends in numbers makes me curious. What will end the all-vounteer force first? The war or demographics?

Truth In a Print Petticoat

12. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, GWOT, History, Pajama Game, World

Sometime around the turn of the last century, Rudyard Kipling (my very favorite short-story writer, after Saki, or H.H. Munro)— a writer not entirely unexposed to the real world, or the machinations of newspapers, society or the military—wrote a fine little story about three newspaper writers, whose life advendures had them on a little tramp steamship in the middle of the ocean. Suddenly, there is a strange, underwater volcanic explosion, a mysterious fog over a mysteriously calm sea, with all sorts of strange debris floating in it… and a pair of aquatic, apparently prehistoric sea dinosaurs nearby. The sea monsters are enormous, but it becomes clear to the riveted newshounds that they are a mated pair. One of them has been terribly injured by the underwater eruption, and is dying, right before their eyes, and to the evident distress of it’s mate. The three journalists watch in horrified sympathy… and their first impulse is to make it the biggest scoop of their lives… but then they realize that it is so incredible, that no one will ever, every believe them, and by the time they are all safe on land and trying to sell the story to their editors, they realize that they are best off just putting it across as fiction.
“For truth is a naked lady,” says the narrator, in the story’s punch-line, “And if by accident she is drawn up from the bottom of the sea, it behooves a gentleman to either give her a print petticoat or turn his face to the wall and vow that he did not see.”

It’s a pretty apt description of how most of our western media outlets treated the Affair of the Danish Cartoons. Throw a print burka over it, repeat the obligatory invocation “But Islam is a religion of peace!” as needed, as reflexively as a Catholic congregation crossing themselves at the mention of the Trinity, turn away and look at the wall and pretend you just don’t see anything in the interval. The trouble is, the monsters are being thrown up to the surface faster and faster. For most of us who are drawn to pay attention, especially after 9/11, we are all but drowning in a tsunami of incidents and portents, every one of which involves militant Islam, political Islam, aggressive Islam, or just local thugs (or individual nutcases) justifying themselves by wrapping themselves in a supremacist Moslem identity. The Madrid and London bombings, the Paris riots, Bali and Beslan, Kenya and Cronulla. Mass protests demanding that their archaic religious laws apply to non-believers. Demanding a respect to their beliefs which is not reciprocated. A tidal spew of insult, lies and incitements to individual and mass murder, from so-called religious leaders across the Moslem world. Simmering war in Chechnya and Indonesia, Darfur, and European banlieus; car bombs, gang rapes, beheadings; the victims are piled high and world-wide. American contractors, Russian soldiers, Afghan teachers, Indonesian school-girls, Australian teenagers, Iraqi policemen. Dutch filmmakers, British and Italian writers, Danish cartoonists, American reporters and pacifists, doctors and do gooders. Hindu temples, Shia shrines, Egyptian and Kenyan hotel complexes, bars in Bali….

…and our Western freedom of speech. Our right to discuss, criticize, parody and analyze critically is nakedly threatened, and our intellectual and cultural leading lights, as well as our mainstream news personalities guard their own tongues metaphorically, lest the rest of them have to be guarded in reality. To be fair, there are some brave exceptions, and a sense of good fairness and rough knowledge of people in general commands me to admit that there are good and upright Moslems in nations across the globe who are content in their beliefs, they are internally strong and confident in their beliefs, and are not demanding our intellectual and political obeisance.

There are those good people in the Arab and Islamic world, and I trust in their existence, and honor their courage when they speak out… but alas, there are so few of them, and the ignorant mobs, the oil-money fueled imams, the bought-and-paid for lobbyists speak so deafeningly louder. They crush all the questions and doubt with the certainty of their vision; it is all too horrendous, all too large. To admit the reality of it is to shake the foundations of ones’ safe world. Better for those mainstream news outlets, those with buildings and employees and a market-share at risk, just to pull the print petticoat, the print blanket, the print shroud over it all, let it go away, and hope that tomorrow will bring something easier, more amenable, more ordinary, something that can be safely tucked into the same old comfortable world vision.

The mainstream media can indulge themselves in fantasies; the rest of us can not. We cannot escape the world; it is still with us, in spite of how hard some of its manifestations are to believe.

CIA Agents Outed… By Internet Search Engine

12. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, GWOT, Technology

This is quite disturbing:

Although the Tribune’s initial search for “Central Intelligence Agency” employees turned up only work-related addresses and phone numbers, other Internet-based services provide, usually for a fee but sometimes for free, the home addresses and telephone numbers of U.S. residents, as well as satellite photographs of the locations where they live and work.

Asked how so many personal details of CIA employees had found their way into the public domain, the senior U.S. intelligence official replied that “I don’t have a great explanation, quite frankly.”

Tom Elia provides some extensive excerpts. But the original ChiTrib article is here. Read the whole thing.

Hat Tip: InstaPundit..

What a Lovely, Helpful Notion…

10. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: European Disunion, General, GWOT, Iran, sarcasm

… and would it ever happen? Good thing I am not holding my breath.

(link courtesy Belmont Club, via Austin Bay)

Howdy

10. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

Hiya folks. I’m Detailed Recruiter, newest contributor to the fine folks at the Daily Brief. I’m an Army recruiter assigned to USAREC. Been in the Army for a while now. I don’t have any awesome, exciting, scary, stressful, or emotional stories to tell about my involvement fighting insurgents in Iraq or Taliban hold-outs in Afghanistan. I’m a recruiter so my vital role in the War on Terror is providing the strength. Most of my awesome, exciting, scary, stressful, or emotional stories are about my dealing with the activity of finding people who want to serve.

I love America. I love serving her. I love serving in the Army. The Army has treated me very, very well. It’s allowed me to go further than I’d have ever gone without it. Recruiting lets me take my experiences and stories and hopefully encourage two people a month to make the same commitment. It’s also one of the hardest jobs the Army has, with stresses, pain, and requirements unique in the service.

My participation in the Daily Brief is something I’d never have thought would happen when I started this week. But events transpired that have brought me here. I hope to some day get to talk about those events, and if someone guesses feel free to shoot me an email or mention it in comments. Those who knew me before coming here are always welcome in my in box.

Anyways, enough about me. The day is done. I want to thank the folks at Daily Brief for lowering their standards by accepting me, and Mr. Connors for taking pity on a wayward waif like myself.

On a side note, I’ve only used Blogger before so if I jack something up here, blame it on my training wheels being taken off.

Paved Paradise…

09. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Ain't That America?, Domestic, General, Pajama Game

… and put up a parking lot. Well, not exactly that, so far. Half of the green belt, in the back of my house is doomed. The first harbinger came months ago, in a notice about a change in zoning, affecting those homeowners who lived within a certain distance of an area where the city was proposing to change the situation to favor the establishment of… well, housing. Neither Judy, or I, or any of the other immediate neighbors could fathom what sort of housing was meant; small, free-standing cottages like our own? McMansions, with back bedroom windows that would command an intimate view of our backyards, and cut off our view to the sunset over the trees and grass, and the great marble faced Celtic cross put up at great expense by the congregation of St. Helena’s, the Catholic parish that owns the green belt behind all of our houses? Or some sort of apartment complex that would house an inordinate number of the rude, crude, low-rent and barely housebroken? Of such horrible possibilities are the stuff of suburban nightmares made. None of us are all that high-rent ourselves, but we do like our peace, and quiet, and a change in the status quo and view of the sunset over the greenbelt is not welcomed.

The presence of the greenbelt is precisely the reason I settled on this house, out of all those properties the realtor showed me, more than a decade ago; it was the smallest of the lot, about the most expensive, but the best-built… and that, over the fence at the back of the tiny house and tiny yard was nothing but green and open space. It made the place seem larger, oddly secluded, and very, very quiet. The greenbelt went all the way between the major cross-streets, with St. Helena’s floating in the middle of it like some great stone ship, the rest of it all empty and windswept. But it has all been nibbled away at the north, with short streets of development coming down to just short of the parish holdings, and now the southern part of it absorbed in one fell swoop; there is a fence across, just below Judy’s house, and everything to the south has been scraped, leveled, graded, terraformed and staked; I suppose to mark the eventual streets and house plots. The machinery of development has been hard at work during every working day for the last month; were I not at work during the day, the noise would drive me to distraction… that and the dust.

The dust blows in whenever the wind picks up— a fine, gritty grey coating on the floor and kitchen countertops. If I weren’t holding on to those precious weeks of cool evening temperatures, and low electrical bills, I would say the heck with that, close all the windows and run the AC; but the wisteria and the jasmine are blooming, the nights are cool— these are the days that I live for, all during the furnace-blasting heat in summer. I can’t possibly give it up. I just bought a formerly-expensive wind-chime (at a chain that provides up-scale goods at dollar-store markdowns) and I love to hear it at night, when the breeze picks up, and smell the jasmine, and hear the birds in the morning.

But the new houses are coming… not near to me, but close enough that I will have to see them when I look out at night, close enough to think about encouraging the hedge plants against the back fence to grow tall, and leafy enough that I don’t have to see them. The Lesser Weevil has trashed a lot of the back yard, after the December frost got to it first, but Blondie and I put up an electric fence to keep her out of the borders, and the construction company (from those nice people who did the roof last year) came today to pressure-wash the whole place, and tomorrow they will do some small repairs to the siding and trim, and over the next two weeks, Blondie and I and maybe Judy, and some of our friends, will repaint the house exterior. (Peach colored, with white and sage-green trim, for anyone who cares to know about fine details like that.) I have it in mind to Weevil-proof the back yard by fencing off a small part of it just for her, and doing the space that was formerly a patch of lawn in gravel and limestone pavers… with maybe a small water-feature in the middle—something modest, to trickle a small steam of water into a pool, in the middle of a collection of jewel-toned pottery planters full of herbs and lemon tree-shrubs… a private paradise.

Something dog-proof, anyway. It is shaping up to be a long, and hot, and dry summer, so making it xerioscape would be even better.

New USAF Rank Structure

09. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

At Chairforce.com.

Surf around their site, funny stuff. “Chairforce. Sit. Push buttons. Mission Complete.” Sums up the way most of my building thinks it’s done.

Via From the Inside.

Farewell, Dear Friend

08. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

It’s amazing how so much can happen in such a short period of time. On Feb 26, Kevin told us that Joe Comer (Herkybirdman) had a stroke, and was in hospice care. On Mar 1, Kevin told us that Joe was flying without wings. And on Mar 4, he was laid to rest. I promised my fellow TDBers that I would post about that, but I’ve found myself curiously reluctant to do so, as if publishing this piece makes it all final, and drives home the reality that our friend Joe won’t be posting here anymore.

I left Atlanta between 8 and 830am on Sat, heading southeast to Joe’s small town. I had contacted the funeral director (didn’t want to bother his family) to find out the details of where and when, and he gave me excellent directions, and asked me to find him when I got there, and introduce myself.

Saturday was beautiful – the sky was that clear blue that you get on days that start chilly and warm up nicely, with no clouds to mar its beauty. I kept thinking it was a great day for flying – I know that’s what Joe would have said. And that reminded me of my favorite picture of him, that he posted one time on his own blog (and possibly here, as well).

It was easy to forget why I was heading southeast, on such a beautiful day. Eventually, after another stop to stretch my legs, I turned off on the state route that would lead to Joe’s town, and enjoyed several miles of back-roads Georgia scenery before arriving at the church.

It was time for me to swallow hard, take some deep breaths, and remind myself that I’m an adult. I don’t know that I’ve ever before attended a funeral where I had never met anyone involved. But I *knew* Joe, even if we’d never met in real life, just like I know Timmer & Kevin & Sgt Blondie & Sgt Mom. We share ourselves in our writings, here, and we form community, and this is the power of the internet, and the value of the information superhighway. In our fragmented society, we form bonds that are not bound by the laws of geography, but only by the laws of love and caring. And we are the better for it.

So I swallowed hard, took some deep breaths, and headed into the church, to find the funeral director. He was thrilled to see me, and told me to make sure that I introduced myself to Nurse Jenny & the family. I promised I would (it’s why I came, after all, but my hidden shyness was trying to reassert itself).

Joe’s casket was at the front of the church, flanked by flowers and plants. An easel stood next to the head of the casket, bearing a photo collage – Joe as a youngster, Joe in the Air Force, Joe with his family. In the center of the collage was a photo of Joe in a cowboy hat, looking very happy. Below that picture, neatly printed out, was a poem. Although I couldn’t see the words from where I was standing with Mr. Stewart, I had a hunch that I knew what poem it was. My hunch was correct – every family member I met told me that they had printed out “Flying Without Wings” and put it in the photo collage. They loved it, as they loved all our posts, and our obvious affection for their beloved Joe.

As Mr. Stewart was escorting me to Nurse Jenny, he stopped beside a young man who looked barely old enough to shave. Mr. Stewart said: “This is Joe,” and it took a minute to sink it that he meant Joe JR, our Joe’s son.

I introduced myself, and he shook my hand and smiled politely, until I said “A Proud Veteran” – then I was pulled into a fantastic hug. (That was when I stopped worrying about whether I was intruding on the family). We clung to each other for a minute or two, sharing tears, and then he took my hand and pulled me over to where the rest of his family was sitting, and I got to meet Nurse Jenny.

Oh, I wish you guys could have been there. No wonder Joe was so in love with her… she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life, and every inch a lady.

We cried on each others’ shoulder for a minute or two, as well. I wanted to just hang onto her until her pain eased, trusting that my encircling arms were joined by those of all the TDBers who were thinking of them on that day.

Then I met “Daddy’s Little Girl,” Joe’s daughter Sheri, and her relatively new husband, also named Joe.

Finally, just before the service was due to start, I approached the casket, and gazed for the first and last time on the face of my friend. After a brief pause, I centered myself, stiffened to attention, and saluted what was now just the shell of my friend, lying under the flag he loved.

The service was everything you would expect for a man who truly loved his God and believed wholeheartedly in his God’s promises.

Joe’s online activities were mentioned, included blogging (the pastor said “I can’t tell you what blogging is, but I know Joe loved it.” ). His love of flying was also mentioned, as well as his love for his family, and for the world around him. I think I remember hearing the pastor say that Joe’s online friends had been a source of comfort for his family this week – I *know* I heard each of his family members tell me so.

They were so touched by our various posts, and the responses to them by our readers. They said Joe would have been so proud, if he knew. I told them he knows. 🙂

After the service, I met most of the rest of Joe’s family, shared hugs and tears again, and got my picture taken with Nurse Jenny. Joe Jr. took the pics, and I got camera envy. He has the next generation of my digicam, and it’s awesome. So is he, for that matter. Joe had every right to be proud of his kids and his grandkids – the ones I met were top-notch.

The interment was about 30 miles away, with no processional, so I followed Joe’s family. They’re good leaders, and I’m very grateful, because we were in small-town backwoods areas, and I had no idea where I was, where I was going, or how to get from point A to point B.

Joe was buried with full military honors provided by an Air Force honor guard from Robins AFB. I used to be a member of my base’s honor guard, so I stood where I could see them remove the casket from the hearse, fold the flag, and fire the volleys. I could also see the bugler, tall and proud as he sounded Taps.

I wanted to stay longer, and visit more with the family, but I had a 3-4 hour drive ahead of me, so after another round of hugs, and another batch of directions, I headed out.

Nurse Jenny hasn’t been able to find words to describe how blessed she’s been by our honoring Joe here at TDB, but I’m telling you folks… every post or comment you made here was like a virtual hug for them. There is an inexpressible comfort just in knowing that someone cares. Our caring comforted and nurtured them, and reminded them that they’re not alone, that others share their loss, and their grief.

Thank you for those posts, my friends. Thank you for finding the words and images to convey your thoughts, and sharing those thoughts “out loud,” so Nurse Jenny & her family could be blessed.

And thank you, Nurse Jenny, Joe Jr, and Sheri, for so graciously receiving a virtual stranger, and making her feel like an honored guest.

And thank you, Joe Sr, for flying along with me on Saturday, keeping me company all the way to your small town, and to your cemetery. I know it sounds crazy, but I could almsot see you, gliding between your family’s car and mine. After all, it was a great day for flying.

For all who have shared their spouses with us…

08. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: A Href, General

…in the defense of all we hold dear, Thank you.

ArmyWifeToddlerMom shares what it’s like when the spouse returns. (Bring tissues, even if you’ve never been a military spouse)

hat tip: Sgt Hook, who seems to always know where to find the best stories.

Yeah I Still Blog Here

08. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

…but I got nuthin’.

I was gonna bitch and m0an about how many freaking times Apple has upgraded iTunes THIS MONTH, but that just reeks of preaching the the choir. I just feel sorry for any poor soul who’s still on dialup trying to use it.

The story at Slate about autoflush toilets was a promising piggy back but I wasn’t in the mood for scatalogical humor. Besides, Ellen covered it pretty well in her last standup routine on HBO and I really hate it when Reynolds writes on something and other folks do a “me too” post.

Battlestar is getting ready to have its season finale. Yeah, and?

Meanwhile we’re starting to once again look at our stuff and decide what we want to take with us on this, with all probability, last PCS before retirement. If we don’t love it and haven’t used it for the last year, yard sale or Vet’s Home.

But you know me…it won’t take long before something strikes me as weird or funny or outrageous, just recently…not so much.

Behold the Power…..

08. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Domestic, General, Technology

….of this fully operational internet!!!

The VEV is back, after a fender-bender in January which smashed the headlights, side lights and the front grille, but left everything else untouched. But thanks to a very effective auto-parts search engine, and an enthusiast in West Virginia with a deep and abiding affection for the early Volvo sedans, the neccessary parts were located in three days at a moderate price. (All thanks to Dan, Dan the Volvo Man! Mwah!!!) (It just took a month and a half for the insurance to pay, me to pay, the parts to be shipped, and the garage to install. Nothing is perfect.)
“So, the 1975 Volvo is on the road again?” asked my insurance agent.
“Yes– so tell everyone to get the hell out of my way!” I said.
It’s nice to have it back again… but I keep hanging back from vehicles in front of me, and eying the back ends of large trucks with absolute loathing.

Just What Is A Chopper?

06. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, That's Entertainment!

I’m currently watching the generally very good History of the Chopper on the Discovery Channel. And they just had this club, of mostly old-timers, from South Dakota. And their standards for membership include, “must have own bike, of at least 650cc, and it must be a chopper.” And looking at the clip of one of their rides, everyone’s bike had an extended fork and ape-hangers.

But is that what defines a chopper? I think not! One of my old detail clients was a very successful Jaguar mechanic in central Orange County. One of the things his success had bought him was a high-6-figure bus-based motorhome, with a custom bike, which resided upon a hydraulic lift in one of the motorhome’s luggage bays. This bike, by dictates of the packaging, if not the owner, had neither extended forks or ape-hangers – it was in the “drag bike” style. But few that saw it would doubt that it is a “chopper”.

But it did have a big cube, Harley-based motor. Is that a requirement? I think not! While a Harley V-Twin is virtually de rigor for today’s “choppers”, lots of customizers in “my day” were doing beautiful bikes based upon Triumphs, Hondas, and others. And no-one doubted that they were “choppers”.

So, just what constitutes a “chopper”?

Borderline Radio

04. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, History, Media Matters Not, Pajama Game, That's Entertainment!, The Funny

Our local public radio station (which full disclosure impels me to mention that I am employed by their 24-hour classical sister station on a part-time basis) is advertising a special which airs this weekend on “border radio”— that is, a collection of stations located just over the Mexican border which during the 1950ies and 1960ie— joyfully free of FCC restrictions on power restrictions… or practically any other kind of restriction— blasted the very latest rock, and the most daring DJ commentary, on stations so high-powered they could be heard all the way into the deep mid-west… and probably on peoples’ fillings, too.

My parents were… umm, kind of stodgy about radio entertainment, and Mom kept the radio at home always tuned to the venerable Los Angeles classical station, with the result that I may have been the single “ most totally clueless about popular music” military broadcaster trainee ever to graduate from DINFOS. I knew about Elvis, and the Beatles, of course— JP played the “White Album” incessantly, and the Beach Boys were omnipresent in California… and I rather liked Simon & Garfunkle, but everything else… major unexplored territory there. Except for obscure and weird stuff like… umm, classical music. And the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band. JP was a fan. I actually won money in tech school, betting on the existence of a band called the “Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band”. (They had a single in the AFRTS library— my winning move, going to the index file and triumphantly producing the card for “I am the Urban Spaceman”.) Otherwise, popular music, country music, all the rest of it was pretty much new news to me. I could be really open-minded about it all, which turned out to be a good thing, in the long run. DJ’s with strong personal inclinations about genre, decade and groups sometimes had a problem when it came to being ecumenical. (Weekend jazz… no problem. Midnight AOR.. no problem… just give me a couple of bottles of extra-strength Anacin. Afternoon drive-time… eh, no problem.)

So I managed to get to that point in my life without ever having heard of Wolfman Jack, the king of the border radio personalities. Raunchy, borderline profane, very funny, the Wolfman was about the most daring DJ in the regular weekly AFRTS package of radio programming for a good long time, which might have seemed even longer to station managers gritting their teeth and crossing their fingers that there might be nothing potentially offensive to the host nation in his show… this week, anyway. Master-Sgt. Rob, the first station manager that I worked for, at FEN-Misawa had been around for at least fifteen years before that. MSgt. Rob was one of the old-timers, who had served tours in South-East Asia, a clannish set loosely known as the “Thai Mafia”… so many of them had passed through a tour of duty at Udorn. Thailand’s reputation as a sort of sexual Disneyland dates from that time— although I swear Scouts’ honor, (fingers crossed here) that military broadcasters contributed very little to that. (Military broadcasters tended to be a little odd. I’d be willing to take bets that many of them had some degree of Ausburgers’ Syndrome). The Thai government was and is extremely embarrassed about this reputation, and sensitive of slight against national honor. So late one night, MSgt. Rob happened to turn on the radio, and of course, the Wolfman was on, and the first words MSgt. Rob heard was a joke:
“What’s brown and lays in the forest?” And the Wolfman answered his own question in that deep baritone that seemed especially made to relay the punch-line of raunchy jokes. “Smokey the Hooker!”
More »

Capt. (Soon to be Maj.Loggie) Reports

04. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, GWOT, Iraq, Military, War

I got back from Afghanistan last week. Just got the home system hooked back up here in Germany so I’ve got web connectivity now.

After Action Report from the Stan:

I know you don’t get the reports from the media on what goes on over there, but we’ve got alot of international support. One of my missions was to assist the Lithuanian Provincial Reconstruction Team with their logistics. Fantastic people, fantastic soldiers. All about getting the job done. We have the support of the people of Afganistan. I could see that every day I went outside the wire in Herat. We were so safe there we didn’t need to ride around in uparmored vehicles and didn’t need to wear our helmets. That area is now under control of Italian and Spanish troops. We’re handing over RC South, the Kandahar Region, over to the British, Canadians, and Dutch. These guys have some top quality troops and they’re coming in hard and heavy. The Brits are sending in their Apache and Harrier Squadrons and the Canadians will have their Stryker type vehicles (which I think they call the Kodiak). Fantastic soldiers and ready to do the mission….I just hope that their governments don’t constrain them on the Rules of Engagement. The Canadians have already taken some casualties in IED strikes and Ambushes. The Romainains are there too, they do the Force protection in Kandahar, They’ve got a whole battalion from a motorized rifle Regiment there. The Poles and South Koreans each have an Engineer battalion doing mine clearing and construction. The Egyptians and Jordanians each have hospitals there giving care to the local Afghans. Norway, Austrialia, New Zealand, Denmark, and Germany all have contributed with either PRTs or Special Operations Forces.

Bottom line is that the coalition is strong and committed. The Afghan Army and Police have come along way. A crowd of people actually applauded when a border policeman arrested a truck driver for smuggling and after trying to bribe him, something that they have never seen before. Conditions are improving and the support of the locals is strong. The terrorists that are there are all along the Pak border and they infiltrate into RC South and East to cause chaos. They are generally not supported by the locals. Most of them work for ex warlords from the Taliban regime or are foreign fighters who believe in the Jihadi movement. But they rely on the IED and suicide bombers to attack us. If they do engage in an ambush it is usually from a distance so they can run…and rarely do they inflict casualties that way. When that does happen, we pounce on them with everything we’ve got available, and they pay, big time.

If you’d like you can post the above on the webpage, its all unclassified. And if there are any questions that come from it I’ll try to answer the best I can.

By the way. I just made the list for Major. Waiting for my promotion date, Once that happens I’ll be known from now on and for evermore as MAJ LOGGIE.

(PS– from Sgt. Mom…. well, as long as you are not known as “Major Pain-in-the-A**”….)

Oscar Awards Predictions

04. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General, sarcasm, That's Entertainment!

So, I would have sat down and written something bitingly sarcastic about the Oscars this year…. but realized I just don’t care, all that much. And this guy beat me to the sarcasm part , anyway. Well, I am curious as to who will have the most cringe-making acceptance speech, and which actress will be wearing the most hideous dress… (Honey, you mean you looked in the mirror just before you stepped out the door, and decided to go, anyway? Dressed in that??!!!)
The only nominated movie I saw anyway was “Curse of the Wererabbit”.

Wake me up, when Hollywood starts making movies for everyone else, instead of just each other.

Garrison Keillor

04. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: General

While camping about four or five years ago, we invited a friend out for a Saturday evening barbecue by the lake. Upon arrival he immediately tuned the radio to the Prairie Home Companion, a National Public Radio staple hosted by Garrison Keillor for some thirty years. I was immediately addicted, and have missed it only twice since – every Saturday from five to seven p.m., either in the kitchen or on the patio, depending on the weather. For the uninitiated, the show is reminiscent of old-time radio, with live performers doing sketches, musical pieces, and monologues (the sound effects are great). For the most part, Real Wife and Red Haired Girl tolerate these interludes, albeit with not a little eye rolling and grumbling. Garrison Keillor is an old sixties liberal, the modern mutations of which seem to have taken our country in a decidedly bad direction, so I am sometimes irritated at the subtle Bush bashing that often appears in the show. In looking at show’s web site to see what the guest lineup for tonight is, I came across this column that he recently posted. It reminded me of something the USAF recruiter told me some thirty-four years ago. He said that one can always tell that a person has served in the military, no matter how many years ago, simply by their demeanor and the way they comport themselves. At the time it seemed like more piling on of reasons why I should sign on, but in the years since it has often come back to me. My military experience has undoubtedly helped me in my career through having learned the value of focusing on problems at hand. On my recent trip to Germany I was honored to have had quite a number of conversations with young soldiers, airmen and marines while waiting for flights (usually in smoking lounges – one bad aspect of the military that is unfortunately with me to this day) and was struck by that common trait.

Back to the subject. In his column, Mr. Keillor makes this same observation far more eloquently than I ever could. Coming from one who, by his own admission was a Vietnam draft dodger and is, to this day, a flaming liberal, means something. I particularly like his suggestion to amend the Constitution to require that presidential aspirants have completed at least two years military service. Alas though, toward the end of the column he sinks back to the left’s tendency to denigrate Dubya, and even more telling, mildly insult the very people he had just complemented. His reference to the current Army as “blue collar” is akin to the mantra “we hate the war but support the troops” in one breath and protesting military recruiters in the next. Nonetheless, it is a good read, and I will still tune in to his show (5:00 central time on your local public radio station). Enjoy.

First to Fly

04. March 2006 · Comments Off · Categories: Air Force, General, History, Local, Military, Technology, Wild Blue Yonder

This month is the anniversary of the very crack of dawn, for American military aviation, and it happened in San Antonio. At the Fort Sam Houston parade ground… or to be precise, over it. More here, by a local reporter.

The Daily Brief