Ya Gotta Have Heart

Yesterday Joyce and I drove to Fort Sill to attend a promotion ceremony for James and six of his fellow second lieutenants (er, his now fellow first lieutenants). Among the attendees was James's brigade commander who shared some thoughts, which I paraphrase here.

"There's a trite saying, 'The NCO corps is the backbone of the Army.' That's trite, but it's also true. But we shouldn't take it as a slight of the officer corps. The Army has different ranks for different purposes. Commanding officers are the head; enlisted personnel, the bone and muscle. But lieutenants (the part of the command structure in direct contact with the troops) are the heart of the Army."

I thought the colonel's words were inspirational. It's true. The effectiveness of a unit does depending greatly on the ability of lowly lieutenants to inspire their soldiers to carry out the mission.

But the colonel's analogy brought to mind another one, a four-decade-old metaphor that a lowly lieutenant once conceived. My oldest brother Joel had been asked to speak on the subject of what he, as an AG (Adjutant General) officer, did. (For those of you who may not be familiar with the AG, the Adjutant General Corps is the branch of the Army that handles personnel actions: promotions, changes of station, deployments, discharges, etc.)

Joel (speaking to a group of battle-hardened Vietnam veterans) put it something like this.

"The Army can be likened to the human body, with every part performing a different function. There's the leg Infantry. There are the powerful combat arms of Artillery and Armor. Military Intelligence is the eyes and ears of the Army; Signal Corps its voice.

"And then you have the Adjutant General Corps ...

"Oh sure, I know what part of the Army you think we desk jockeys are, but you're wrong -- we aren't the asshole.

"We," stammered Joel's quavering voice, as his hand shook as if with fear, "we are ... the nerves!"


"You see, for the body to function, it must be under the command of the brain (the Pentagon). And the brain must have a way to convey its orders to the rest of the body. And there's where we in AG come in. Just as the nervous system carries messages from the brain, we convey orders from the Pentagon all the way to the lowest soldier. So you see ... if it weren't for us, you'd never get the orders that send you to Vietnam."

With that, Joel beat a hasty retreat from the podium and left the room.

Dimocrats!

Figuring it's a good idea to keep an eye on the Democrats, I got myself on a mailing list of the Democratic National Committee. So now I get regular email updates about those dastardly Republicans who are trying to defeat ObamaCare. Here's their latest appeal for money:

Bob --

Right now, Sarah Palin is on a highly publicized, nationwide book tour, attacking President Obama and his plan for health reform at every turn.

It's dangerous. Remember, this is the person who coined the term "Death Panels" -- and opened the flood gates for months of false attacks by special interests and partisan extremists.

Whatever lie comes next will be widely covered by the media, then constantly echoed by right-wing attack groups and others who are trying to defeat reform.

As we approach the final sprint on health reform, we can't afford more deception and delay. We need to be ready for anything -- and have the resources to respond with ads, events, and calls to Congress when the attacks come.

So we're setting a big goal: $500,000 in the next week to help push back against Sarah Palin and her allies. Please chip in $5 or more to help reach our goal.

Golly! So now it seems Sarah Palin (by promoting her best-selling book about her life in Alaska -- having Iditarod racing dogs named after her, etc.) is engaged in a right-wing attack on the Glorious Leader. Who knew?

As it happens, Joyce is currently reading Sarah Palin's book "Going Rogue" and whenever she comes to a funny or touching passage, she shares it. My sweetheart promises I'll be able actually hold the book as soon as she's done, but for now I have to be content with the tidbits that she excerpts for me. Anyway, if the sampling I've heard so far is any indication, Sarah Palin's tome is hardly a "dangerous" weapon being wielded by the Republican attack machine.

So why is the DNC suddenly so given to hyperbole? My guess: "projection". Those who can't face the evil of their own motives are psychologically compelled to project that evil on others. The DNC's paranoid belief that Sarah Palin is promoting her autobiography because she hates the Glorious Leader is a pretty good clue what motivates their personal attacks on Sarah Palin and her family.

Close Encounters of the Redneck Kind

Lifted from Neat-O-Rama:

Close Encounters of the Redneck Kind from Marc Bullard on Vimeo.

"Dharkan Abhaljum" Writes...

I just received an email (tagged with a "Suspected Spam" warning from the company's email administrator).

This suspect email begins:

Dear Sir or Madam,
We regret if this letter brings to you trouble, But this dispatch has only the kind purposes. ...

"Suspected Spam," you caution? You think?

(Golly, maybe I shouldn't have clicked on that embedded link.)

Now That's Smooth

Joyce: So how did you like your smoothie?

Bob: It was ... um ... okay. Why do you ask?

Joyce: No reason. So how did you like it?

Bob: It was ... good. What did you put in it?

Joyce: It's good for you ... and you liked it, didn't you?

Bob: It was okay. So in what way was it good for me?

Joyce: It's good for your digestion. And you liked it, didn't you?

Bob: It was okay. So what was in it?

Joyce: Frozen orange juice.

Bob: Orange juice ... aaaaand ... ?

Joyce: Things that are good for you.

Bob: Such as ... ?

Joyce: Just stuff.

Glottal Opera

Joyce just showed me this from Neat-o-rama.

I have just one question: "Who thinks to try this sort of thing?"

I Shouldn't Ask, But ...

Isn't it time we stopped denying the obvious? When was the last time we heard news reports of radical Baptists opened fire on innocent civilians? And where are all those Roman Catholic terrorists hiding? Rampaging Lutherans? Marauding Methodists? Episcopalian Jihadis?

So why are we never surprised to learn that the latest atrocity was carried out by a devout Muslim? Is there perhaps a difference between Christianity and Islam? Is the God who lays down His life to ransom sinful mankind from slavery to sin maybe a little different than the God who commands His slaves to commit mass murder against those who don't bow to Him five times a day?

Here's the video of Major Nidal Malik Hasan buying his morning cup of coffee just six hours before he attacked his fellow soldiers.

Tell me, is this a person who will suddenly snap a mere six hours later? Or someone who has just finished loading his 50+ rounds into several magazines and is now proceeding with his normal morning routine? It seems to me, this guy isn't someone who needs to be committed -- he's already committed. And just six hours after buying his usual cup-o-joe, he'll demonstrate just how committed he really is.

Isn't it time we faced the fact that it's Islam itself (not just a lunatic fringe group or two) that's at war with Western Civilization?

Transition

The company where I work outsources its Information Technology (IT) services. Our experience with our old IT service provider has been so unsatisfactory that the company took the first chance it had to cancel its service agreement with that vendor. The new IT service provider will be taking over (following a very painful transition) on November 1.

Today I got an invitation to a Group Luncheon (an unrelated event) scheduled for November 11. But in my email acceptance of the invitation, I couldn't resist the temptation to add:
"Is there any significance to this being on Armistice Day (the day World War One ended)?"


And in reply I got this:
"Yes, but we may be starting an new one with [new IT service provider]."

Our Fractured Fight Song

{To the Tune of the Notre Dame Fight Song}

Bassett is brave and Bassett is bold.
Bassett's a team that no team can hold.
When we fight we fight to win,
'cuz Bassett, you know, just won't give in.
When the last play is run through with ease,
Just for the fans of Bassett to please,
We will sing with all our might
The song of maroon and white ... fight, fight, fight! ...
{repeat ad nauseum}

As all my fellow near-northeast-side El Pasoans will recognize, these are the immortal lyrics to the fight song of Bassett Junior High, unless of course they've changed since 1965 (or more likely -- the official fight song is now sung only in Spanish). Bassett (that school next to the quarry -- McMillan's Quarry, to be precise) is a feeder school for Austin High and is itself fed by Crockett, Rusk and Travis. As a school, Bassett rocked! ... literally. When the quarry would set off a charge and boulders would shower down from the 400-foot cliff face (moving the limestone wall back a few more feet) our classroom windows would rattle and we'd actually feel the seismic vibration through our school desks.

No doubt you're asking yourself, "So what dynamite mascot would earth-shattering Bassett Junior High School choose?" Well, smack yourself on the forehead for missing the obvious ... we were the Bassett "Hounds". That's right, Bassett Hounds! You know -- those docile, lethargic sawed-off Blood Hounds, who (with ears so long and legs so short) are in constant danger of treading on themselves. So given such an "awesome" mascot, is there any wonder we smart-ass seventh-graders found cause to poke fun at Bassett's ferocity as a football powerhouse?

Thus it came to be, as the rest of Mrs Van Slyke's music class dutifully stood and gustily sang of the Bassett Hounds' invincibility, we (a handful of my buddies and I) joined in with a slightly more realistic song of this squat dog's prowess:

Bassett is bold and Bassett is brave.
Bassett's a team that no team can save.
When we fight we fight to win,
But somehow we end up giving in.
When the last play is fumbled with ease,
That's when the coach will fall to his knees.
Then we'll cheer and drink our beer
For the flee-bitten Bassett Hounds ... Bite, bite, bite! ...

Mrs Van Slyke was not amused.

"Wake Up! They're about to Nuke the Moon!"

Those were the exact words Joyce spoke this morning. I'd like to say I'm so wise that I immediately thought to myself: Now Bob, there's no need to correct Joyce by saying: "No, my love. The rocket that's going to hit the moon this morning doesn't have a nuclear warhead." But the truth is, as I slowly emerged from my deep slumber, the only thought that passed through my head was: Nuke the moon? Kewl!

Now that my morning fog has lifted, it occurs to me that slamming a rocket into a luckless crater near the moon's south pole would have been a major media event back when I was a grade-schooler in the early sixties. I remember well Alan Shepard's sub-orbital flight, which lasted a whopping fifteen minutes (more or less) -- compelling us third-graders to gather around a radio in the school auditorium and listen to engineers and test pilots shouting "Roger that!" at each other over a steady roar of static. Nah, we weren't the least bit bothered by the lack of any cool pictures being beamed back from outer space. After all, George Lucas was probably among this throng of kids gathered around America's school radios, so back in those pre-Star-Wars days our special-effects expectations were pretty low. As we hunkered around our new-fangled "transistors" (seeing only the tension on our teachers' faces), we had to use our imaginations to visualize the wild ride Colonel Shepard was taking. But our imaginations weren't limited to the trajectory of Freedom 7. With each break in the static, we were also picturing all the soon-to-be discovered alien monsters who lived on exotic card-board-walled worlds -- claymation monsters who were very likely lurking behind that huge papier mache boulder right over there. Space was truly magical back in 1961.

But this morning (after Joyce's announcement that the moon is under nuclear attack) I got up, did my bathroom ritual, wandered into the kitchen to refresh my mug (which Joyce had lovingly delivered earlier), then stood behind Joyce at her computer and watched the live-stream moon craters growing larger. The image froze. Then some tech guy at JPL heralded the impact with the words "Thermal signature!" I kissed my wife goodbye, stepped out into a steady downpour, got into my Jap car and turned on the radio, just in time to hear Vic Ratner patiently explaining that the moon is way too massive to be knocked out of its orbit by something the size of an SUV. Still the local radio host kept insisting: "But what if something had gone wrong? Isn't there some danger we could damage the moon?" I thought Vic Ratner was very nice not to answer: "O Lord, what was I thinking? You're right! ... If we keep this up, we could end up with a moon that's just covered with craters!"

But I also thought to myself: Gee, the future sure ain't what it used to be.

Dealing with that Age-old Problem ...

Head-on.

* Lifted from "Outside the Beltway"

Top Ten Reasons ...

Obama didn't bring the 2016 Olympics to Chicago:


Number 10... At International Olympic Committeee meetings ... dead people can't vote.

Number 9... Obama believes in American exceptionalism, just as the IOC believes in Brazilian exceptionalism.

Number 8... Who cares if Obama couldn't talk the IOC into holding the Olympics in Chicago, as long as he can talk Iran out of its nukes.

Number 7... Given the partisanship that's blocking passage of comprehensive health care, no president would have been able to accomplish it.

Number 6... Just as Obama has said all along, "Chicago is not the only place that can host the Olympics."

Number 5... This isn't about the number of Olympics "lost", it's about the number of Olympics "saved" or "created".

Number 4... With Israel still building settlements, no wonder there's no progress with the IOC.

Number 3... Clearly there aren't enough wise Latina judges on the IOC.

Number 2... Just look at this mess George Bush left Obama to clean up.

And the number one reason Obama didn't bring the 2016 Olympics to Chicago ...
The IOC is RACIST!