21. March 2005 · Comments Off on The Flowers That Bloom In the Spring, Tra-La! · Categories: Domestic, General

I have spotted the first blue-bonnet in bloom in my neighborhood, a single lonely specimen in a patch of assorted wildflowers where the little streamlet meanders from top to bottom of the development. There is a largish patch of them coming up amidst the grass in an empty tract of land along Stahl road, unmistakable harbingers of spring. Very soon there will be acres of them in bloom up in the Hill Country, followed by herds of photographers, and a couple of double-page features of them in the local newspaper. It’s a Texas thing, going ga-ga over the bluebonnets and other wildflowers every year, but it’s a much healthier obsession in the long run than high school football. I may even encourage bluebonnets in that part of my garden given over to native plants and flowers, assuming there the two Arizona trash-trees allow enough sunshine underneath.

I’ve been much too busy the last two weekends cleaning up after the hail-storm two weeks ago; so has everyone else. The curb is piled high with bundles and bags for trash pickup: the hail came down the size of marbles and golf balls, knocking down sticks and leaves by the pile. Some of the trees are now looking very lop-sided, with all the leaves stripped off their outer branches. The concrete sidewalks and driveways are freckled with pale little blotches, where the hail-stones struck, and all the local auto-repair places have suddenly sprouted extra signs touting hail-damage repair. Signs from different roofing contractors are also sprouting in the yards through-out the neighborhood. A friend from church said she had counted no less than seven different companies and contactors’ pickup-trucks with ladders hanging out of the truck-bed cruising the side streets as thick as fleas. It seems to have been a very tightly-focused storm; outside the immediate impact area, it was just another ordinary thunderstorm. My neighbors who were caught at home by it all said it was quite terrifying. The noise of it was incredible, and it went on for ten or fifteen minutes.

I did not think there had been much more than superficial damage to the garden; I thought my roof had escaped serious damage. Many of the other houses in the neighborhood looked like they had great dark smears or shadows on the weather side of their asphalt-shingled roofs. There were also a number of broken windows, and vent-covers, and supposedly someone’s patio roof gave way. I didn’t have any broken windows, and I couldn’t see any new damage to the screens that couldn’t be accounted for by the cats, and astonishingly enough, the fiber-glass over the back porch was un-perforated. But this weekend, and last weekend I talked to all my neighbors, and the up-shot is that we are all going to get new roofs. The insurance adjuster just told me that she is doing up the damage estimate for my house, and yes, I need one also… so, that is what I am working on this week! One of the neighbors, whose house is next to Judy’s is a roofing contractors, and it looks like he is doing bids for all of us, up and down the street. It would be great if he could just stage all the materials at once, and just go from house to house, all at once, and give us a bulk discount. My insurance adjuster says it might be a very good idea to hire him anyway; after all, if he does a bad job, I know where he lives….

20. March 2005 · Comments Off on Life is a Precious Thing · Categories: General, Good God

I know I’m stepping into the middle of controversy when I mention the current issues brought to light by the Terri Schiavo case. I don’t mean by this post to step into the personal family dispute here, so I apologize ahead of time to those who take my comments or my thoughts wrongly. Timmer, I understand why you closed the comments on your own post, and I respect that. I hope to deal with the matter on a different level here. The case embodies feelings that touch us all, and brings to the public forum our many different ideas concerning life and death, a vital issue to everyone, as we shall each face death eventually. And we will each face the end of this life on earth with our own views, with our most personal of beliefs. Since that is assured, maybe we owe the Schiavo and Schindler families a debt of gratitude for making us face our own mortality.

The President has just returned to Washington in order to address a congressional move to place the Schiavo case into the federal courts, in order that a final, very public, hearing may be held to establish just how much response this unfortunate young woman may have to events surrounding her. Regardless of one’s stand on the case, I fail to understand why anyone could object to having the matter examined in the light of day. If it were me, and if someone were in a rush to end my life, and objecting strenuously to giving me a last chance to prove that I were in that body, I would hope that someone would show an interest in having proof of my incapacity before allowing me to die. I appreciate knowing that President Bush has taken an interest in the case, as it affirms my belief in the man’s committment to freedom and life. It tells me that should I have been the one in that situation, he would have cared as much for me, and this gives me comfort.

I do want to make one thing very clear. I am in great doubt at this time about what Terri Schiavo’s real wishes were, and I am in doubt as to how she got into the condition where she is today. It just reeks of suspicion that there is nothing in writing, and no viable disinterested witnesses to her “verbal living will.” Living wills are right and just, and should be completed by everyone, in writing or on video and witnessed. No one should have their right to life adjudicated by any lone judge or any family member, without recourse. Let’s save the life of this young woman, and then let’s then change the law, even make it a matter of federal law if necessary, to require living wills to be in writing or on video, to be properly witnessed, or in the lack of same, defaulted to life. Life is the normal situation, until God Himself calls us home to heaven, but cannot be recalled if we humans take it. The situation here is not that of “heroic measures” such as heart-lung machines, or any technology keeping her alive. It is simply a matter of providing nutrition and hydration, the basic things that we all need to stay alive. There should be no hurry to let Terri die, we have the time to give her proper medical examinations, to find out the truth in her case.

Why is this important? Because it is a matter of life and death, and it could apply to you or me tomorrow. It is an issue for society, not just one family. And Terri Schiavo is one of us, no different from any of us . We owe her the best of care our society can offer, because we could be next.

20. March 2005 · Comments Off on I Was Rollin’ Down The Street One Day, In The Merry Merry Month Of… March… · Categories: General, Working In A Salt Mine...

One of the big problems with the Ford Escort/Mazda 323 is that, when it skips the cam timing belt, the valves hit the pistons, and the entire engine is wasted. It seems this has happened to me. Arrrrgh!

And just when it seemed things were on the upswing…

19. March 2005 · Comments Off on A Nice Story · Categories: General, General Nonsense, My Head Hurts, Wild Blue Yonder

I just posted a story about my week’s flying – funny I hope! at my personal blog here

Enjoy!

Joe Comer

18. March 2005 · Comments Off on And I thought big cities were dangerous! · Categories: General

According to this story, sent to me by my sister in Ohio, there was a shooting in the small town near where she lives. Two people dead (including the shooter), one wounded, witnessed by an 18-yr old high school senior who lived next door to the female victim (wounded), and by a 17-yr old across the street, who sat with the woman while they waited on the ambulance to arrive. It’s actually my sister’s town, but she lives outside of town. She thinks she might know some of the folks involved, but since there were no pics of them in the article, she’s not sure.

18. March 2005 · Comments Off on Yet Another Email · Categories: General

Just received from our old friend, Tony Valeri:

Liberals Exposed by the Forshadowing of Things Before.
Those that attended the meeting of the Move-On.org liberal Congressional coven on 03-16-05 have been heard before. They were known as Fools, Stammerers, Deceitful Ones, Senseless Ones, as well as Unprincipled and Overhasty.
Of the many attendees that weeped, bellowed and screamed about all and every inequity they perceived was being brought down upon them by those once and again, dastardly, Republicans Senator Boxer was surely shown to be the most ill informed. But considering what State and region she represented it was no wonder.
Senator Boxer s admitting that the Senates Advise and Consent rule regarding appointments of judges required only a 51% majority vote and then adding . . . she thought a 9 more vote requirement should be added because that is what we liberals WANT; wah, wah, wah, was truly ignorant. Californians should hang their heads in SHAME for keeping this I Q challenged woman in office.
The foreshadowing spoken of previously is written and prophesied by ISAIAH in GODs Word, the BIBLE at Chapter 32: Verses 1-8, showing how GODS rule for justice will come about, at the expense of those type souls that attended the Move-On.org coven.
Of course the coven neglected to mention the morass of social failures their 70 year Liberal/Socialist agenda has created in this country, nor what to do about resolving ANY of them; therefore, LET THEM CONTINUE.
Thank GOD President Bush is aware of their failures and is willing to DO something about them. For once, a leader ISAIAH himself could be proud of and, of course, GOD himself.
Tony Valeri, Eugene, OR Tel: 541 607-6305 (tvaov@earthlink.net)

To which I replied:

Look, Tony: It’s not that what you are saying is always wrong – it’s just that, even if there is some rightness to it, it is so juvenile and elementary. It is a waste of time for people like myself to even bother with it.

If you understand, I am a real journalist. I don’t spend all my time, as I’m sure you do, just embracing opinions which reinforce my own. I make it a point to reach out and embrace diverse viewpoints. And, I spend a good deal of my time fact-checking my peers, to assure I’m not being sold a bill-of-goods. I never present as fact that which is only opinion, whether mine, or another’s.

Look, Tony: DON’T COMMUNICATE WITH ME ANY FURTHER, save for one of two instances: First, if you would like to set-up your own blog, but don’t know how, I will be happy to assist you, so long as you also forsake emailing, save to those who specifically requeest it. Second, If you wish to forsake emailing – as previously stated, and start you own blog without my assistance, where people that really want to read your crap (and I assure you, there are many) can go of there own volition, you can send me one final email, and inform me of the URL. Perhaps I will check there occasionally – but don’t bet on it.

Do you understand? The hammer is falling. Jay Tea might have been ineffectual, but he ain’t me.

17. March 2005 · Comments Off on I Wanna’ Be A ‘Shiner · Categories: General

I’m just thinking I’ve tasted Everclear and Kool-Aid (1:2, with Tropical Punch), Every Scotch – from Invigordon to Royal Salute, azul agave tequilas – both silver and gold, and all the finest brandies. I’ve even tasted hairspray – but only because my GF was into it, and I wondered what the attraction was (it actually wasn’t that bad – very like the Everclear – Kool-Aid thing).

But I don’t just want to make ‘shine – I wanna’ make something special. I want to be sitting around with my wine-making buddies (of which we have many here in California), twenty years from now. And when they say “this in my red zinfandel, 2021 vintage,” I can counter with “this be somethin’ I ‘stilled back in ’08.”

17. March 2005 · Comments Off on Could This Be Woody Allen’s Best Movie? · Categories: General, That's Entertainment!

I must confess, I am far from the typical Woody Allen fan: I’m cool to Annie Hall – lukewarm to Manhatten. But I love Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex, But Were Afraid To Ask, and consider Sleeper a Must See.

With that in mind, I have been looking at the summaries and reviews for Melinda and Melinda, and will watch my local listings for it. It seems like a winner.

17. March 2005 · Comments Off on On the Road, Again · Categories: Domestic, General

We stayed in a castle, a real castle, Schloss Rheinfels on the Rhine, across from St. Goarshausen. The hotel part was newer than the medieval ruin that topped the crag overlooking the river, the railway, severely vertical acres of grape-vines which gripped the rocks with vinous fervor, and several other ruined castles up and down the river as far as could be seen. It was a great roomy barn of a place, with thick stone walls; you could have dropped rolls out of the dining room windows straight down on the freight-cars passing down below, at the very foot of the cliff. The ruins of Schloss Rheinfels were adjacent, and much overgrown. Many of the towers and doorways were filled with dirt, leaving just enough space for a child, not that Blondie was very interested in the dark and cobwebbed tunnels within.

We explored it all one late afternoon, and then had to take the VEV to the nearest Volvo mechanic in Bingen-am-Rhine for some mechanical work (bad gas in Italy, apparently) and the train to Rhein-Main AB to get an emergency loan to pay for it. It was getting to seriously autumnal, nearly a month after we had driven away from Athens and the only place my daughter remembered living in. We were on our way to Spain, taking a leisurely auto-ramble through Italy, Germany and France. There was only one thing my daughter didn’t miss about Greece, and that was the habit of any and all— especially the elderly— patting her on her blond head, and admiring her northern coloring.

“Like I was a little dog,” she muttered rebelliously. I was worried that she might just take a bite out of the next well-meaning hand, and looking forward to Germany because there she would fit right in, and no one would notice her particularly. Some hope— she looked like everyone’s grandchild, and was just as admired, although there was not as much head-patting… for which we both were grateful. Small children do, after all, have sharp teeth, and at four and a half, Blondie was very forward and brash.
The VEV was purring smoothly again, on the road along the river, north to Koblenz, all castles and vineyards, and little towns with a riverside promenade and a church with onion-domed towers, and if that didn’t kick over the quaint-and-rustic meter, the roadway along the Mosel pegged that sucker all the way over into the red.

The road along the Mosel was a two-lane country road of the sort that I had become very used to, narrower but nearly empty of traffic, and the river meandered and looped among rolling green hills, trimmed with russet and gold autumn-harvest colors. The August holidays were well over, and all the tourists had mostly gone home. Early in the afternoon, we came around pronounced bend in the road, and there was a beautiful, half-timber and thatched little town, straight ahead.

Cochem Am Mosel

(Cochem Am Mosel, 1985)

It clustered around a conical green hill topped with a toy castle, a tall central tower trimmed with mosaic tiles. A perfect, Grimm’s fairy-tale castle, with battlements and tiny pepper-pot turrets, peaked roofs and a portcullis gate, guarded like an enchanted place by a surrounding palisade of taller hills. I pulled over, and looked at my map, the Hallwag atlas opened on the passenger seat.
“We’ll stay here, tonight,” I said. “That has got to be the prettiest place I have ever seen.”
“Can we go look at that castle?” my daughter asked, “It’s not a ruin, like the last one.”
“Of course,” I said, and turned off the road along the river. I had no idea of where to stay inexpensively in a place like this, but trusted to luck: there was always something, a gasthaus, or even a private home with a “zimmer-frei” sign swinging from the gate. The main road threaded through town, around the back of the castle hill, past a little ski-lift moving continuously up to the top of the tallest crag overlooking the little town. There, on the right, the modest “zimmer-frei” sign in front of one of the houses in a modest block of townhouses.

We took the last parking place in front, and snagged the last room too, for the home-owner came out and took down the sign as soon as I paid the required 40 DM. The windows of our room looked onto the back of the house, where the dangling seats of the little ski-lift moved up, up, and down down, twenty or feet above the steep slope.
“Ohh, Mommy, can we?” My daughter leaned out of the window, tiptoe with eagerness, and I sighed, and hauled her inside so I could close the window. I had a very bruising experience with one of those little lifts, as a teenager, going up to a youth hostel in Koblenz, which was housed in a castle on top of the customary crag. I was not terribly athletic and heights— or the imminent prospect of falling from them— bothered me terribly. I took my camera and handbag— we would walk over to the castle, and have some dinner in town, but first… the ski lift.

It was one of those constantly-moving ones, requiring deft-timing in swinging yourself into the moving seat, and in the case of my daughter, a boost from the attendant. Going up wasn’t so bad, facing the steep hillside and going up, and up, staggered rows of grape vines sweeping past your dangling toes. The ground appeared to be little more than a short drop below. At the top, Blondie jumped down from the seat herself, and neatly moved away from the path of the moving line of suspended seats. I took her hand, and we walked around to the look-out, below which was the whole town, neatly spread out like a toy village, centered around the crossroads and the castle.

And then, going down again. Just like going up, but in reverse. Horribly in reverse, because going down meant facing out, and a long, fast and horrible controlled fall, and my daughter screaming. Screaming, in excitement,
“Oh, Mommy! It’s like Wonder-Woman, it’s like flying!”
She was exhilarated. I on the other hand, was torn between screaming, throwing up or fainting, and not wanting to do any of the above in front of her. So, since I had my camera in my lap, I uncovered the camera lens and took a picture. Two things came to mind in the first twenty feet of the ski-lift drop; that as a child, my daughter was totally, completely and utterly fearless, and in the coming years, I faced any number of occasions watching her do things, where I would be torn between screaming, throwing up or fainting… but it would be best just to sit calmly, with white knuckles and a faint smile. And take a picture.

Looking Down

(Looking down, from the top of the lift, Cochem Am Mosel, 1985)

17. March 2005 · Comments Off on Erin Go Braugh! · Categories: General

17. March 2005 · Comments Off on Wearin’ O’ the Green · Categories: Domestic, General

They say St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, but do you know what he said, as he was about to do it?
He adjusted the rear-view mirror, looked over his shoulder and said,

“Arright, yiz in th’ back, are yiz aright, and ready to go, then?”

But I don’t wear green, myself on St. Patricks’ Day, as Grandpa Jim was an Orangeman, through and through.

Grandpa Jim with Uncle Jimmy

(Grandpa Jim and Uncle Jimmy, early 1920ies)

From the archives, “My Grandpa Was an Alien”

16. March 2005 · Comments Off on Another Email · Categories: General

Considering the response I received concerning nusance emailer Tony Valeri, I thought I’d first publish our correspondence since (my own in italics:

Your reactionary, poorly informed, and idiotic email fisked here: http://www.sgtstryker.com/index.php/archives/an-email/

Hey Kevin, quit with the big words, FISKED? I am just a poorly informed, idiotic e-mailer. If you want to communicate with me you will have to either bring me up to your level first, or you can come down to mine. CIAO, Tony

Here you go: http://www.samizdata.net/blog/glossary_archives/001961.html

Until you are ready to swim with the sharks, I suggest you stick to the wadding-pool of sending letters to the editor of your local newspaper.

— Kevin

Well Kevin, glad to hear you have such a high opinion of yourself. Comparing yourself to a shark hit the nail on the head, since sharks are a lower form of predator and can easily be beaton down by the gracious, but deadly, porpoise. I will be watching from my wading pool to see your elitist demise. The local editors, as well as some national editors may be more aware of me than you, since I do not sidestep communicating with anyone, on any level regarding social, economic, religious or political issues. CIAO, Tony

Well, I’ll leave it to my readers to determine who is delusional. But I know I have several highly regarded friends/acquaintances in the world of political commentary who consider me a colleague.

But the primary purpose of this post is to contrast Mr. Valeri to another fellow I receive frequent emails from, Joseph Braude. Here’s our most recent correspondence (again, I am italicized):

Greetings,

A few weeks ago I put together (manually) a list of several dozen favorite blogs, including yours, and forwarded links to stories of mine on contemporary Middle Eastern politics for your interest. A number of you were kind enough to write back with positive feedback, and I am grateful for that continued correspondence. Others were unhappy to receive an unsolicited e-mail. One individual in the latter category wrote me with the friendly advice that I should send a final note offering my apology. That is the purpose of this note. I am new to the blogosphere and did not wish to offend. Should you wish to receive further notes from me, feel free to write me with that request. Otherwise, you will not hear from me again.

Sincerely,
Joseph Braude

Personally, Joseph, I don’t consider email I have been selected to receive by an actual human being to be “spam”. Everything you have sent me has been most welcome. Please carry on.

Kevin Connors, Editor
The Daily Brief

Kevin,

Thank you very much for these encouraging words. I will go ahead and continuing sharing material with you, then. Here is a story of mine that appears in today’s TNR Online, about how Arabic-language blogging is impacting Arab politics. Hope you enjoy it.

Climate Change: Why the Internet will change Arab politics–and how it already has. http://www.tnr.com/doc.mhtml?i=w050307&s=braude030705

Sincerely,
Joseph

There are two principal differences here. The first, and most obvious, is that Joseph is quite gracious about not cramming his emails down the throat of those who don’t wish to receive them. The second, for those who don’t already know, Joseph Braude is an accomplished professional. His material is well researched and thought out. The same cannot be said about Mr. Valeri.

16. March 2005 · Comments Off on Can I Call It, or Can I Call It? · Categories: General, GWOT, Iraq

A week ago Monday I wrote in this entry, about the Sgrena/Calipari/Roadblock incident: The blow-back from this may very well include Italy stepping down from the coalition; ironically, just when it seems that a tipping point has been reached with successful elections, when the war is over and the mopping up and rebuilding is getting well underway. This morning, on NPR, Sylvia Poggoli was reporting on how internal political considerations were forcing Berlusconi to look for an exit strategy for Italian troops in Iraq.
Sometimes I almost scare myself with my own predictions…

14. March 2005 · Comments Off on Blogging and Freedom of Speech · Categories: General, Home Front, Media Matters Not

Like Sgt. Mom, I took advantage of a recent opportunity to defend blogs to our local newspaper (the Asheville Citizen-Times). The associate editor I wrote to asked me to pen a guest commentary, and today it got published. You can find it here.

But if you can only read one column today on blogs and free speech, I commend to you Scott Johnson (of Powerline fame) and his latest contribution to The Daily Standard.

14. March 2005 · Comments Off on An Email · Categories: General

A fisking on an email I just received:

03-15-05

Subj: ACLUs Current Motto: Eternal Vigilance is the Price of Liberty

The ACLUs vigilance assures that the courts and not the legislators and or the Constitution decide what morals, freedoms and religious beliefs this country follows.


Check your history, and get a clue, idiot. The courts have ALWAYS “legislated from the bench”, and judicial activism comes in all shades. The only answer is to remove power from government. This is something neither conservatives, or liberals, are willing to do.

The ACLUs vigilance assures that the Mexican OPEN BORDERS doctrine they support will soon turn this country into a Third World nation, so as not to make the true Third World countries FEEL BAD.

Au contraire, mon ami. Our borders should be open to ANYONE who can pass a background check. In so doing, we can assume that all others are crossing with mal-intent. And they are subject to being shot-on-sight.

The ACLUs vigilance assures that any and all criminals, terrorists and the baby in the womb murderers get the best legal representation possible, even when guilt or reprehensible behavior is apparent, and inordinate amounts of citizens tax money is wasted, while the ACLUs coffers are being filled to the brim.

It is better that 1000 guilty men go free, than a single innocent man be convicted. This is precisely why we expend such effort in major trials. And it is why we have moral authority to spread (classical) liberal democracy across the globe. Would you rather that women accused of adultery be stoned to death?

The ACLUs vigilance allows that Pedophiles be given the freedom to seduce little boys, so they can join their detestable club when they grow up.

Admittedly, yes. But, your alternative is?

The ACLUs vigilance assures that the Politically Correct Tyranny of the Minority always prevails over any and all reasonable laws of man and God.

Unfortunately, our far greater concern in America today is with the Tyranny of the Majority, on matters such as the recent Transit Bill, where the general public is massively misinformed by those hired to watch over their interests.

The real Motto of the ACLU should be: Eternal, Emotional, Girlie Man Vigilance is the price of Feel Good Liberty.

Tony Valeri, Eugene, OR Tel: 541 607-6305 (tvaov@earthlink.net)

No argument there, Tony, but your approach is all wrong. It seems that you are just another mal-informed reactionary-conservative idiot, who would like to descend this nation into fascism. And, as you have entered the public forum, by e-mailing me, I am publishing your phone number and email, in the hopes my readers “flood your zone” with their objections to your reactionary conservative doctrine.

Update: It seems Jay Tea and myself aren’t the only ones who find Tony to be an annoying nutter.

14. March 2005 · Comments Off on Repeat of a Classic “In the Army, Now” Letter · Categories: General, General Nonsense, Military

This was forwarded by regular “Daily Brief” reader Capt. J.M. Heinrichs; it is an amusing Australian variant on one that has been going the rounds since WWII, or possibly earlier:

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (Eromanga is a small town west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland)

Dear Mum & Dad,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin’ on the farm – tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone!

I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don’t hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack – nothin’!!

Blokes haz gotta shave though, but its not so bad, coz there’s lotsa hot
water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there’s no kangaroo steaks or
possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don’t get fed again until noon, and by
that time all the city boys are buggered because we’ve been on a ‘route
march’ – geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back
paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting
medals for shootin’ – dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody possum’s
bum and it don’t move and its not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did
when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last
year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target – its
a piece of piss!!

You don’t even load your own cartridges – they comes in little boxes and ya
don’t have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck
when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful
coz they break easy – it’s not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and
Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.
Turns out I’m not a bad boxer either and it looks like I’m the best the
platoon’s got, and I’ve only been beaten by this one bloke from the
Engineers – he’s 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pickhandles across the
shoulders and as ya know I’m only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin’ wet, but
I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can’t complain about the Army – tell the boys to get in quick before word
gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Jill

(For maximim giggles, imagine Cate Blanchett as Jill– Sgt. Mom)

14. March 2005 · Comments Off on Whose Truth? · Categories: General, GWOT, Media Matters Not

This story appeared Sunday in the San Antonio Express News. I sent an e-mail this morning to the writer, Sig Christenson, who is (to give him credit) not entirely clueless about the military, since he served as an embedded reporter. Does he know about milblogs? Time will tell, time will tell…
My response is as follows;

So, whose truth really is true, when what appears on the TV news (or in newspapers) is either the “work of Uncle Sam, not journalists…”

Frankly at this point I am not at all enamored with the recent output of those anointed by custom as “journalists” by the mainstream media outlets, seeing that that group would include Peter Arnett (of the poison gas/Special Forces fiasco), Dan Rather (of the “fake-but-accurate-memos), Eason Jordan (who soft-pedaled atrocities by Saddam Hussein in order to keep the CNN bureau in Baghdad, and has accused the US Forces of deliberately targeting journalists) and the egregious Sy Hersh, who is still going around with heart-rending tales of US forces casually committing atrocities. Main stream media is after all the ones who bought off on John Kerry being a true Vietnam War hero when all the veterans that I know (and a lot of the active-duty folks as well) despised him with a passion that made them practically incoherent with rage. Main stream media is propping up the bar at the Hotel Palestine, interviewing the maitre d and their interpreter, singing the song that Iraq is a quagmire… and get blindsided by the election turnout. Main stream media is putting video of staged car-bombings on the front page, or the nightly news, and never getting around to the dull stuff like fixing sewers and rebuilding schools, and setting up local city councils. “If it bleeds, it leads”, but it is damn lazy journalism, and in Iraq it’s a disservice amounting to malpractice. Lets just say there is a bit of a credibility problem, at present, and a bias that makes the DOD version of news (not to mention what is available on the various milblogs) look pretty good in comparison.

By the way, the DOD has had in-house journalists, via AFRTS, base newspapers, and video feature programs like Air Force Now, and combat videographers for decades. They generally have a pretty good idea about what is news, and how to put together zippy, attractive and informative features, sticking to the good old who, where, when, why and how. Dismissing all that as merely the “work of Uncle Sam, not journalists” is a little bit insulting to all of us who did news features, stories, newscasts and all— especially if it gave some of us the experience to move on to civilian media afterwards.

If stations want to use whatever materiel is spoon-fed to them to fill up the news block, at least they ought to give credit, where credit is due, and not give the impression that their own news crew was Johnny on the Spot. That is where the deceit lies, not in the DOD making what they have been doing for years available to anyone who wants it. And looking on the bright side— at least the military media will get things like service and ranks correct, which cannot always be counted on.

I worked for 20 years in AFRTS and in Combat Camera, and have spent the last three years contributing to a military oriented weblog, The Daily Brief (www.sgtstryker.com), which according to our chief engineers, racks up 32,000 to 35,000 unique viewers monthly. We feature essays, commentary and links on popular culture, the military, politics and the war. Does that make us journalists? I’ll get back to you on that.

“Sgt Mom”, USAF, Ret

13. March 2005 · Comments Off on Gardens of Delight · Categories: General, World

Captain Loggie has e-mailed me this weekend, to let us know that he has arrived in Herat, Afghanistan, and had been given a tour of the city. I expect they told him that it is one of the cities founded and named originally after Alexander the Great, and that it was a rich, powerful and cultured place, full of monuments and gardens, under the reign of the Timurid kinds of the 15th century…. and is supposed to be still full of lavish gardens, most particularly of roses. And yet, Afghanistan is so often portrayed to us as a harsh and barren place, either cold and dusty, or hot and harsh and totally barbaric. But one of the gardens in Herat was written up in this book, which I gave to my mother for a Christmas present after I scored a very marked-down but pristine copy at Half-Price Books— but I read it first!
The thing is though, in a harsh and desolate climate, a garden— a green and thriving garden— is most particularly cherished, since it is achieved with such great effort and against such odds. Water is the thing, water and shelter; high walls and deep wells. A garden in the Islamic tradition may be large, but most always it is enclosed, sometimes no more than a courtyard in the center of, or adjacent to a house. Sometimes no more than a collection of plants in pots and tubs, there is nearly always a fountain or a pool. The largest gardens are sometimes meant to look like an elaborate carpet, with raised paths between the beds, which would be planted with elaborate arrangements of blooming plants. And always there would be shade, and water, and a place to sit and look at it all… for after all, Paradise is most assuredly a garden, the most lavish and beautiful of all.

Garden in the Generalife, Alhambra, Spain

This is one of those gardens, in the Summer Palace by the Alhambra complex in Granada, Spain. More here, from my archive.

12. March 2005 · Comments Off on More on McLeod’s Daughters · Categories: General

I have just caught a bid of the WE marathon of the mega-hit Aussie series McLeod’s Daughters. This is the #1 drama series down-under, and is gaining a substancial following here. I can see why.

First, the scripting and production are strictly Yankee quality. Any follower of international productions knows that, even the offerings from major markets, like the UK, are frequently rather crude by our standards. That is not the case here; McLeod’s Daughter’s is first-class all the way. Further, the story lines are quite compeling. What I’m watching just now (Haunted) is from the first season (2001). And the serial story line is not really a big factor. I fear that, as the series has played on, like Dallas, Dynasty, or LA Law, the serial story line will come to dominate, and it will be just another soap-opera.

But oh – the babes! OMG! Sonia Todd (Meg Fountian), the “mum” of the group is like a cross between Concetta Tomei and Holland Taylor. Lisa Chappell (Claire McLeod) is Australia’s Sela Ward. Rachael Carpani (Jodi Fountain) is VERY Rachel Blanchard, with a touch of Kate Hudson. And Jessica Napier (Becky Howard) is like a cross between Jennie Garth, and a very young Meg Ryan.

But my favorite, by a good measure, is Bridie Carter (Tess Silverman McLeod) she is Kathleen Turner, with a strong dose of Rebecca Gayheart, and a marvelous actress in her own right. All I can say is, WOW!

12. March 2005 · Comments Off on Simon Wiesenthal Center Demands Apology From Livingstone · Categories: General, Reader Mail, World

Received this via email today:

SWC To London Mayor: Apologize Now For Antisemitic And Anti-Israel Comments

At a time when violent antisemitic attacks on British Jews increased 42% last year reaching greater levels than in France, where just days before Holocaust Memorial Day Jewish gravestones were desecrated with swastikas, while at the same time there was a spate of violent attacks against Jews in North London, where Jewish students feel increasingly intimidated on university campuses for openly expressing their support for Israel, and when young people in the UK increasingly display a lack of understanding of the Nazi Holocaust, the slanderous comments against a Jewish reporter and the State of Israel by London’s controversial mayor have fueled an already dangerous environment.

Mayor Ken Livingstone’s most recent statements accusing the Israeli government of “ethnic cleansing” and his description of Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon as a “war criminal who should be in prison” have added to the anger over comments made last month when he compared a Jewish reporter to a concentration camp guard. Livingstone has refused consistent calls from Prime Minister Tony Blair, British officials, Holocaust survivors, and London’s Jewish community to apologize.

Therefore, we are asking our supporters in Britain and around the world to join the Simon Wiesenthal Center’s protest directly to London Mayor Ken Livingstone to urge him to immediately apologize for his comments trivializing the Holocaust and demonizing Zionism and Israel.

Livingstone has had a long history of conflict with British Jews. Last year, he hosted Sheik Yusuf al Qaradawi, a Muslim Brotherhood Imam who has endorsed suicide bombings against civilians in Israel and attacks on foreign civilians in Iraq. In 2000, he made a speech claiming that global capitalism was responsible for more deaths that the Nazis. And as far back as 1983, in his capacity as a newspaper editor, he published a cartoon of then-Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin dressed in an SS uniform with a caption reading, “The Final Solution.”

Additionally, the Center is urging mayors of all cities to refuse to officially welcome Livingstone to their cities until he apologizes for his reckless and incendiary behavior.

By signing this petition, you will be sending a letter directly to Mayor Livingstone urging him to apologize for his anitsemitic and anti-Israel comments.

Donate now to fight antisemitism and to help us continue our work.
Please support the work of the Simon Wiesenthal Center .
Send inquiries to: information@wiesenthal.net

Livingstone is a wart on the face of Britain. I think he should step down.

11. March 2005 · Comments Off on We Are the War: Part 2 · Categories: General, GWOT

Part two of John Harriman’s letter is here.
(Mr. Harriman has very generously sent me a copy of his latest book, and I am halfway through it: review to follow)

11. March 2005 · Comments Off on The Crucible · Categories: General, GWOT

Some years ago, the news program “48 Hours”— whose main news hook is to roll the cameras on something interesting for a solid 2 days— followed a training company of female Marine recruits completing the “crucible”, the two-day exercise/ordeal that is the final exam for basic training in the US Marine Corps. I taped that program, as Blondie had just competed basic. By odd coincidence, her training company was doing the crucible at the same time as the company that “48 Hours” focused upon. She actually appears very briefly in the program, distinguished only by her name on the back of her helmet, in a shot of her company marching by. She fell out for the crucible on barely-healed stress fractures, and shot full of antibiotics for an infected insect bite, but insisted afterwards that she had actually rather enjoyed it, for the challenge of being able to use everything she had been taught at Parris Island, to think instead of merely do as ordered.

The program made it clear the crucible was anything but a gentle amble through the woods and obstacle courses, but a 48 hour test of endurance, on two meals and a little sleep, concluding with a grueling night-march back to base from the training area, arriving just as the sun comes up. The video of the last, long slog was particularly touching: exhausted young women, marching along, fueled by their last few shreds of energy. Some of them are visibly failing, field packs and other gear dragging at their shoulders, barely stumbling along; the only thing keeping them on their blistered feet and moving forward being the knowledge they are nearly to the end, that and the whispered encouragement of their friends around them. In one touching shot, a trainee reaches back, and is holding the hand of the woman in the rank directly behind her. One knows that that silent, encouraging hand-clasp is keeping both of them going, that and their own grim determination to become Marines.

It has struck me in the last few weeks that the latest round of suicide bombings and assassinations in Iraq may also constitute a crucible of sorts, especially those happening after the elections. The deaths are horrifying, senseless; deaths of bystanders in the street, in a bakery, of a newscaster, of Iraqi army recruits and police cadets, politicians and clerics, and people are rightfully frightened, and angered by violence dished out by the bitter-end Baathists and the foreign jihadists, and common criminals. Frightened and angry… but not cowed. They put on their best clothes and voted anyway, in spite of threats. They are stepping forward to take charge, to take the place of murdered policemen, informing on insurgents hiding in their neighborhood, and saying “enough”; creating an identity for themselves by standing in opposition to the terror.

Shia, Sunni, Kurd, devout or secular matter less than simply being an Iraqi, or so I read over and over in stories about the election and the political dickering afterwards. It is as if a national identity is being forged, right in front of our eyes, that every blow pounds a harder, finer and more flexible edge on the steel. Out of adversity, danger and horrors which are shared by all may be built a stronger, more determined and truly democratic Iraq. Both the Baathists and al Quaida wanted to create a strong Islamic state in the Middle East, and they may have done it in Iraq… but not quite in the way they were expecting.

11. March 2005 · Comments Off on FLASH! SHOOTING DEATHS AT FULTON COUNTY COURTHOUSE, ATLANTA, GEORGIA · Categories: General

Around 0930 this morning a defendant in a rape case in Atlanta grabbed a deputy sherriff’s handgun and killed the judge, the court stenographer, and at least one deputy. One deputy is fighting for his life in Grady Hospital, and there may be more casualties.

The assailant gunned his way out of the courthouse and hijacked a car, and he is still at large at this hour. Much of Atlanta is locked down right now, however, there are three major interstate highways within two blocks of the shooting location, so the suspect could have gone in at least six directions.

More later.

UPDATE: 3/12/05-1300ET: The suspect, Bryan Nichols, is in custody. He was arrested at an apartment complex in Duluth, GA, about 20 miles from downtown Atlanta, where the original incidents took place. With an overwhelming police presence in place, surrounded by SWAT teams, Nichols apparently realized that he would emerge from the building in one of two ways: in a body bag or in custody. He initiated his surrender by waving a white t-shirt from the window of the first-floor unit where he was holed up.

In further developments, around 8 AM this morning, the body of an ICE (Immigration and Customs
Enforcement) agent was found in Gwinnett County, an area northeast of metro Atlanta. The officer’s weapon, badge, and pickup truck were all missing. At that point the focus of the manhunt for Nichols was moved to the Gwinnett County/Duluth area. later in the morning, the local 911 center received a 911 call from a woman who stated that she knew where the suspect was. Calmly and without any sense of panic, the caller revealed the details, and stated that she knew Nichols, who had arrived at her apartment during the night and took her hostage. When she was sure that he was asleep, she managed to quietly slip away and make the 911 call. As the case unfolds, it has been alleged now that Nichols probably killed the ICE agent and stole his truck, ID, and weapon.

Nichols was arrested peacefully and without incident. He was taken to Gwinnett County jail, and has been transferred to the Federal Detention Facility in Atlanta. Charges will be preferred, probably on Monday, and will include a number of death penalty allegations, the murders heading the list. Further updates will follow as the case develops.

11. March 2005 · Comments Off on History Fades · Categories: General, History, Military

A bit of our history— a woman who was part of a legendary group in the annals of women in the military has gone, this week. Gone, but not forgotten, thanks to this book.

10. March 2005 · Comments Off on Notice To Airmen (NOTAM), 0503101410 · Categories: General

Later on this month I’m doing a one hour seminar on Enlisted Heritage and Culture for the folks at the schoolhouse. Because I’m working off an AF Lesson Plan there are things I have to cover, Levitow, Airey, Wilkinson, but I can blow through them pretty fast without hurting the content.

My question for all you enlisted folks, active and retired, what would you want to talk/hear about in March of 2005 when it comes to AF Enlisted Heritage and Culture? Frankly, by the time I was a SSgt if I heard about John Levitow one more freaking time I was going to hurt somebody.

Officers…with all due respect, please don’t play. This is a “by enlisted/for enlisted” deal. I really don’t want to get into the ins and outs of the “benefits” of Air University in our Professional Development.

10. March 2005 · Comments Off on Notes from Working Out, 050310 · Categories: General

The MyoPro Whey Chocolate Flavored is not quite as tasty as the PROLAB Pure Whey in Strawberry. Both available at your local BX for much cheaper than the prices seen here. As a matter of fact…the MyoPro is kind of gacky in that 1970s/80s protein talcum powder sort of way. I won’t be buying another tub of that.

On the other hand, Detour protein bars are yummy and tasty and will remind you of a Snickers bar only with more calories, more protein, and less sugar rush and dropoff.

In case you were wondering if I supplemented on Body Sculpting days…because I do.

Yesterday got on the crosstrainer for the first time since the surgery and did 20 minutes solid with a 5 mintue cool down. Heart was bordering on 90 percent of max so had to kick down the resistance but the legs did great and I felt like I could have gone for another 20 minutes but Beautiful Wife wants me taking it slow and she knows how to watch a clock and how much time I take at the gym to hit the crosstrainer and do my Tai Chi when I’m done so…unless I wanted to lie to her…which is out of the question…I have to behave for now. That last sentence was a bit ridiculous wasn’t it? Maybe I’ll clean it up later…time to get Boyo out of bed.

09. March 2005 · Comments Off on Chartres · Categories: General

I drove across France on secondary roads, one perfect golden September, when my daughter was just shy of five years old. We had packed our luggage into the VEV and left Athens for a new assignment in Spain, with the Hallwag driver’s atlas open on the passenger seat beside me, and Blondie contentedly curled up in the back seat, watching the world go by and listening to her mother mumble curses upon whoever had designed road signage in France. Everywhere else we traveled, directional signs bore the name of the largest city along the road or at it’s terminus. Easy enough, at the start of a day on the road, keeping in mind and an eye out for the arrow helpfully pointing the way in the direction of, say “Roma” or “Munchen” or “Augsburg”.

Not so in France, not on the little two-lane country roads, hop scotching from town to town. Following the road into each town, I would be directed helpfully into the “centre” where there would be a crossroads or worse yet, a traffic circle, with a choice of roads leading out of town again; which one? I would have to pull over, and study the atlas, and commit to memory any and all names of towns along the road I wanted, and look for any of them on the fly. No chance to appreciate the cobbled square, the covered market hall, the village church and quaint old shop fronts, I was too busy scanning for the elusive black and white sign and arrow, which would put me out onto the right road. With luck, and presuming that the French sign-posting authorities had managed to put a sign where I could see it, I would emerge into the countryside again.

The country roads were the best, most aesthetically satisfying way to travel across France— not by the expensive, boring highways. One single stretch of road (along the Loire, I think) still stands in my memory of the most beautiful, perfect stretch of roadway imaginable: two lanes, arrow-straight, lined on each side with a perfect avenue of trees, planted just so, like columns in the aisle of a cathedral. The road aligned perfectly on the church steeple in the town ahead, as steady as a compass needle pointing north. Someone had planned that road, centuries ago, for the church and the avenue of trees were all very old.

The towers of Chartres cathedral drew us, as inexorably as a compass needle, floating like a stone ship on a golden sea of unharvested fields, the town around it invisible. There once was a time when men dared not build taller buildings than church-towers. The town of Chartres was built in a riverine valley, with the cathedral on a knoll in the middle, a bit of higher ground nearly the level of the land around, so for many miles it alone was visible, splendidly isolated.

“That’s what we’re going to see,” I said to my daughter. “Look, we can see it already. It’s supposed to be the finest, most perfect medieval cathedral around. The glass in the windows is like nothing in the world.”
Blondie didn’t quite yawn, but looked as if she were close to it, and thinking resignedly
“Oh, yay, another big old building. Whatever, Mom.” She had already spent three-fourths of her life being dragged around by me to temples, cathedrals, museums, castles and fields of ruins from every age from classical Greek to late medieval. I had no idea what this had done to her aesthetic sensitivities, aside from instilling a peculiar fondness for Botticelli. It had done a number on her religious beliefs, such as they were; the Greco-Roman pantheon was well mixed in with the Judeo-Christian and the Norse, and she had walked solemnly around the great bronze statue of Zeus in the Athens Archeological museum, and then announced to me in tones of great disapproval that God’s tushie was hanging out.
Chartres Doorway
Where saints in Glory Stand:Chartres, 1985
The air in the cathedral breathed of cool stone, and dust and candles, stone steps and paving under our feet worn by 800 years of devoted traffic. There were other people there, tourists like ourselves, lost in contemplating that soaring space inside. Chartres is not one of the exuberantly decorated spaces, tending rather to the ascetic glory of perfect purportion; the walls and columns and arches framing the matchless windows, through which stream sunlight stained in reds, blues, green, painting little blobs of color on the ancient stone floor. It is a holy place, built to the glory of God, at a time when men felt it was an act of highest worship to carve the perfect stone, fit it in exactly the right place, to cut the pieces of jewel-colored glass and bend the lead canes precisely around each piece, to set the great soaring arches in place.

Stained Glass Windows at Chartres
Sermon in Stained Glass at Chartres
They lived mostly short and uncomfortable lives, did they who built Chartres and places like it, lives that we would find unbearably squalid and uncomfortable, but they were visionaries, and built for the future, secure in believing that we… and their God would remember them. In time, the devotion of the faithful would turn from great buildings to causes; Sunday schools and anti-slavery, social justice, leaving the magnificent medieval buildings like an ornate but outgrown shell, but one where we can still wander, and marvel, knowing that we are in a holy place, made holy by a thousand lifetimes of work, hundreds of years ago.