Remember Sigrunn?

Hello everyone. My next post was supposed to document my descent into madness. Since my last post, I have been struggling. After considering the suicide prevention training I had received in the Guard, I realized that I was being haunted by my own history. War it seems does not agree with me. Nor does privation, submission to a rigid command structure and perhaps worst of all, being surrounded by ridiculous, undisciplined juveniles that seem to populate all ranks, particularly the lower ones.

So, considering that asking for help is a sign of strength (bullshit, marketing genius by psych majors), I sought help for nightmares and other issues related to my own PTSD. Oops. I didn't even know I had it. I thought my quirks, that in many ways made me a great warrior, did not make me a great guard robot. But as soon as I started to talk to a doc, it was revealed that I needed all kinds of interventions!

There was this drug, then the other. Therapy weekly or bi weekly. Bad advice and worse results. I was driven mad by the people trained to heal the madness. I tried acupuncture, surgery, therapy, CBD and over a dozen combinations of various drug cocktails. What did I gain from this? Nothing. Let me tell you what I lost.

I no longer have my national guard income and career. I have lost the dozen friends I used to have. Only two friends and my sister have not yet abandoned me. I lost my marriage. I nearly lost my freedom, spending a few weeks in an inpatient facility was terribly frightful. I spent a night or two in jail and lost my lucrative day job. I went from making about $XXk a month to $X, then suddenly half of that since my estranged, soon to be ex-wife doesn't work full time.

Ah well, there are folks, other vets, civilians etc. in much worse shape. I should be happy. I still have a roof over my head though it's 2,274 miles from my kids. I have female companionship, food, and even the occasional legal, recreational marijuana available here in Bigfoot country.

Without my kids around me, I have been terribly sad. My depression became my friend, as did my rage. Then I flushed the meds.

After a few weeks, I started to recover myself. It wasn't easy or pain free. Then, the pain of loss, of everything I built over decades, lost in just a few short years, came crashing down on me. I found refuge in Sigrunn's Saga.

Readers here might not remember Sigrunn. She was first introduced years ago. I teased her stories arrival, but was not able to deliver until now.

Thankfully, I have had the good fortune to be trapped in my cell. I was able to meet an editor, a new friend of a friend. A professional who knows how to fix bad writing. If I'm lucky, she'll save Sigrunn's Saga in time for publishing 24 June 2018.

Followers, email me for a free electronic/kindle copy.

Alvie asked for an audiobook copy, so if anyone out there wants to interview for narrator, just email me or send an audio clip.

So, Sigrunn is coming, winter is leaving, whether it likes it or not.

For those of you who remember the Sigrunn post on this blog...there were 3 in Oct, 2012, she is not the same as the character first introduced there. Sorry about that. Because she is so much more than any of that, I want to give her her own space. Sigrunn's Saga deserves its own home - Sigrunn's Blaga.

Sigrunn's Blaga is going to launch in a few days. With any luck my new (yet unnamed editor) will also be introduced formally at the same time. She's putting a layer of polish on the Saga I could not do in my state, damaged as I am by war, drugs, therapists, marriage and all the rest.

Jess, if you see this - I have a free autographed copy for you. I miss you pal.

Suicide and the Army's $125 million unserious, possibly illegal response

Having affiliated with the National Guard and having heard that NG suicides are up I decided to look into the issue a bit. I've seen the Army's efforts, at least as they relate to the NG and some of the Navy's efforts as well and - neither seem serious to me. So I was curious; are my perceptions of unseriousness due to being a part of poorly led organizations or a poor organizational effort?

So I head to PBS, NPR and other new sources friendly to government and I read peer-reviewed pieces and learn that there is a lot of money involved to the tune of some $125 million, possibly more. This morning I hear on a WMAL that the Army has hired more than 90k clinicians and others to work on this problem. I don't recall seeing any big recruiting efforts but I'm not a clinician so maybe they were very carefully targeted.

Ninety thousand clinicians...where would they even find that many? Did they train them? Where are they stationed? That's more medical people treating our troops than we have troops in Afghanistan - never more than 50 or 53k at any given time. I have to track down this number but if the actual number is 10% of that it's still Nine-thousand probably more than enough to do the job right? Maybe not, if they had recruited heavily quality would have had to have been sacrificed - point in case MAJ Nidal Hassan. If we had 90k clinicians, and even half of them were armed and tossed in to support efforts in Afghanistan we'd have won six years ago before the president signaled our surrender in 2009 at his infamous West Point speech.

But I digress.

It turns out that the suicides have been miscounted somehow; each agency interminably resistant to auditing of its books also has branch-specific methods for counting the dead - at odds with the CDC method. Despite funny bookkeeping, I'm not saying it was meant to hide the true numbers or to make the problem look less significant - you draw your own conclusions, but it looks like the numbers will increase slightly in most cases. In any case, the trend line is clear - suicides of military personnel and veterans are on the uptick (year over year for last several) even as the latest annual report looks positive (pending accounting review...) for the most recent reporting period - except for the National Guard.

So, what’s wrong with the National Guard? I'm not going to speculate but I can share my own experiences with the Army's "resiliency" program part of a larger CSF or Comprehensive Soldier Fitness program. This program is based on a hypothesis of a U Penn professor that was originally investigated for use with helping middle-school children improve coping skills. Now, in that original application results are mixed at best, but in the application to adults and combat stress there are some serious problems and they aren't new. I think one of the better criticisms of the program was done in 2012 by the Coalition for an Ethical Psychology. In essence, they argue that the program's efficacy is overstated and there are credibility issues with the methodology, ethical problems by making participation in a psychological experiment mandatory without human subject protections, and so on. Serious stuff the Army needs to consider.

As for my own experience, the program is poorly operated. I haven't seen a clinician, indeed I can't name one that supports my training site. I've sat through many resiliency lectures given by young soldiers who are not remotely qualified to dispense prophylactic therapy with a fire hose at a group of unprepared subjects - some of whom might really need help or not require any therapy - prophylactic or otherwise. In some cases the instructors are suspicious and hostile it seems, to the training material and skip slides in the deck they don't seem to appreciate or understand and seem not to have any real grasp of the information presented. Some of them are hostile and toxic people themselves who might be creating burn out - I had one "Senior NCO" resiliency trainer - really a younger than 30, E-7 with less than ten years of service, no children - tell me that people with families shouldn't even join the guard because of the occasional familial responsibilities that conflict with training schedules.

Why is this guy lecturing about psychological health and well being? It would be comical if lives weren't at stake.

In the Navy, lecturers were similarly qualified, interested, and capable (and I let them know how I felt about it then, in writing). They were H.S. graduates, maybe with some college, usually computers, I.T. or maybe some medical training but no clinicians and they usually appeared to be seeing the material they were briefing for the very first time as they turned around, stared slack-jawed at the slides then turned around and tried to regurgitate it in some meaningful way - usually resorting to paraphrasing the slides (if you were lucky) or reading them in their entirety (poorly, if you were not lucky). I've sat through many of these suicide prevention training sessions, sometimes 2 lectures in a single drill weekend, and I've never seen - not in many years, a single qualified clinical or psych nurse or graduate social worker intern, giving this training. Why? 90k clinician hires - is that riddled with turn over? Are they being killed in combat at an alarming rate? Are they all at Ft. Hood, Bliss, and Carson? I mention Bliss because I see they have at least 6 suicides there just in April 2014.

I suspect they're counting these locally "trained" cadre of half-ass, under-qualified therapists as "clinicians" doubling down on the ethical error here. I wonder if the Army has considered laws against human experimentation that are called "Nuremberg" for a reason...

The Army needs to sit down and seriously reassess its approach and be honest about what it's doing - get serious about preventing suicide in a way that doesn't make it feel like mass punishment in formation in a way that takes limited real training time away from Soldiers, adding to their burden of stress and reducing their "resiliency", whatever that's supposed to be.

Thanksgiving II: Revenge of Tradition

What has happened to thanksgiving? The Detroit Lions won a football game! Wait you don’t have a TV? No problem you can go to the store and get one now even though its thanksgiving, of course, you already missed the game…but you might be able to get highlights on your phone unless your phone is old then you’ll have to upgrade there while getting your new discounted Black Thursday TV.

That’s what we’re calling it now I hear – Black Thursday. Blasphemy. A holiday about gratitude for and sharing of blessings turned into another exercise in narcissistic materialism. The news reports about economic indicators – a 2.9% increase in holiday spending worrying retailers and such. The home country from which we sprung, Britain was once derisively referred to as a nation of shop keepers a tradition we have maintained and improved upon, but should we be so obsessed with shopping, profits, markets, and economic indicators?

The real crime here is this insanity threatening thanksgiving, giving Detroit a chance to win, comes to us courtesy of another day of religious significance destroyed by materialism. It’s as if the whole baby Jesus's story was about the gifts that were brought him and how important they were. The baby was just an excuse to use a coupon and an event to spur economic activity at the bazaar. Xmas is already destroyed and they are trying to roll over thanksgiving - the only thing is left protecting Veteran’s Day and Remembrance Day from Xmas. Veteran’s day won’t have a chance if thanksgiving falls, with less than 1% of our country serving or having served. Pagan (and fun) Halloween will be destroyed next and before you know it we’ll be letting Santa usher in Labor Day – also marked by sales, most notably at mattress discounters.

Thanksgiving is a day for God. Black anything doesn’t belong anywhere near it. I just re-read President Washington’s thanksgiving proclamation I see God mentioned 9 times (19 if you count the pronoun “His”), prayer 3 times but no mentions of shopping or discount. Sure he was the man who has everything but surely he could have used a properly fitted coat at least?

It’s clear what the man who gave us the holiday thought of it and what its true purpose was. For me, I too am thankful for God and His blessings but I yet struggle how best to introduce the kids to this concept which I believe is best-experienced vice explained? For now, it’s enough to go through the motions, spending time with family and eating far too much – which I why I suspect Washington’s clothes were always a bit large for him – they hadn’t yet invented the elastic waistband.

But I digress.

If you know me and TO&S, you know I’m thankful most for my family and that starts with my wife. So for me, the holiday is about her and the time I get to spend with her. We did something special and new this year – we started prep work, not just cleaning and re-arranging the furniture or decorating but the real tangibly intimate tender togetherness that cooking together is for us. I feel tears well up when I try to imagine the holiday without her. I hope it never happens. For some, they are alone and they’re doing it for us – whether they understand the war or even agree with it – they’re in uniform on the watch for us, or our sons or friends. The photo was especially poignant for me having just a few months ago volunteered to come out of retirement and don once more the Army uniform for another term of service. That fellow manning that wall eating pressed turkey out of a box and ready mix mashed taters could easily have been me, and may yet be.

We’re not having it. Any of it. We’re pushing back (okay it was mostly her idea). I’m a fighter, so Wednesday prior to Thanksgiving is now Thanksgiving and it’s a two day holiday with Thanksgiving proper and Eve. From this day forth I proclaim it so, that if Black Thursday becomes a thing there will always be at least one day for my wife and me to enjoy giving thanks (for each other at least). Even if we’re forced to spend it assembling PB&J sandwich brown bag lunches for a long Thursday trek to some far off mall assigned as our official shopping center by the Obama website people for Black Thursday minimum economic stimulus activity required under the commerce clause.

So help me God.

Death and Names

Death by any other name...

So for a few weeks now we’ve been anxiously dreading the death of a family patriarch. Pap-Pap Sheffel, on my editor’s side of the family. A WWII veteran of the 11^th Airborne Div. and all around great guy, he will be sorely missed.  His slow goodbye was exceptionally difficult for the family, split between Penna. and Indi. I did the best I could to help her deal with this difficult matter but often felt like only a spectator, helpless and useless. Worse when she asked me about my beliefs about the afterlife and what awaits us I was disappointed in my ability to answer her in a comforting way. But this isn’t about me.

She asked me about heaven and reincarnation. I was raised with the idea like she was that in heaven you have all your family waiting there for you as she was, but I had rejected that concept. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to meeting relatives who had abused my mother, rejected my father for being a half-breed, or who spat hate at me from every pore because I was an adopted half-breed son of a half breed. Why would I look forward to that? That concept of heaven made no sense to me.

I neglected to explain that now, with our family complete I could find comfort in that idea. Instead I asked stupid questions about what age would those people be? What would we do in heaven? Wouldn’t they rather spend time with their elders? Would they know me? Would I be as important to them or would they be reunited with a lost lover from a marriage I never knew about or some other such thing. What would other people’s expectations of me be there? Can you have any fun there or is it a Mormon caffeine free utopia and what good is that? I want to drink a beer with Ben Franklin in the afterlife, or party with some Vikings in Valhalla not sing hymns in the choir eternal being chastised by nuns for being off key or late for a performance. Maybe I’d just want to sleep in and skip it, stay in bed with the wife. Would God allow that?

I’ve always been “the journey is the important part” guy. I believe in heaven here and now, my life with my family is as good as it gets.  Heaven? What’s that good for? Are we going to go fishing with God? I would only want to live again to meet my wife and enjoy again the tenuous first moments of our meeting, falling in love and growing into a single entity here on earth.  So for me reincarnation is where it would be at. I’d want after the time of my reaping to return if only to scour the earth a dozen times in search of her, even if it meant dying horribly each time before the 13^th time when I did find her, if ever so briefly.

It’s difficult to understand and harder still to explain – here I fall short again. So what comfort is there in knowing what is beyond? I’d rather not, for me there is comfort in that – in hoping I’m right, or maybe that God gives us a choice, a menu of options.

So the journey is what’s most important I’ve lost sleep worrying that I’m not making the best of that journey. Risk aversion having chased away valor and courage, slow and steady caution has destroyed my appetite to shake things up, make a difference and fight for what I believe in. There a lot of things I’ve managed to squeeze into my life, living easily a dozen times more than most could dream of – yet many things I’ve had to let go by the way so I could choose another path. Right now I want to find more fulfilling work, or something that lets me spend more time with my family. The two seem to be mutually exclusive in a galactic Catch-22.

I saw an old torpedo recovery boat on the GSA webpage. The boat was rusted out but reparable, I thought wow I could go for something like that a vacation boat or something a 2^nd address to have on the water, but I’ll never try to make that kind of thing happen. Too expensive, to complex I think. What happened to me? Maybe I will. The wife talks about a vacation home sometime in the future. Of course I can’t afford that on my meager salary carrying my current and foreseeable debt load, we’re paycheck to paycheck now and financially imperiled by rising gas prices.

These are the concerns of the living. I used to look at the world through the eyes of a dead man born again, someone who thought everyday was a gift not to be taken for granted or wasted on idle concerns following my near death experience. Now I’m overwhelmed with daily bills and deadlines on a calendar my kids are growing so fast I’m afraid I’ll be a bigger mystery to them than my own father who spent most of his life at sea. I’m losing the fight to be what I want to really be right now and the loss of Pap-Pap made me think how sad it would be to look back from the deathbed and wonder if I could have done it better. Not just to satisfy my selfish sense of adventure and ambition but for my family and their future. I search for signs and portents and find the universe dark and empty, the stars are only an abyss and I’m flying blind.

When I put it that way it sounds pretty adventurous.

So death, heaven, and reincarnation what’s in a name?

I’d like to ask my mother that question. She had visited just before Pap-pap fell gravely ill. She expressed at dinner great sadness (including some show of holding back tears) that I was carrying her family name Chandler and not my adopted father’s name. He took great pride in having a son to carry on his name didn’t I know, she said he’d be angry or disappointed to see I was not carrying on the name. This hurt me a bit at the time. But I’ve been wrestling with this question too. Is it an existential question? I think it is, on par with death and the afterlife.

My father’s spirit was invoked, and said to have judged my life wrong for not honoring him and his wishes. I wasn’t only hurt by this I bristled. I lost sleep on the question for days. Should I just change the name back?

All the while, we continued our genealogical research for the 2^nd book to draw heavily from the editor’s side of the family. And watching names change with every marriage and over every so many generations I suddenly recalled that the great ancestor Wong had changed HIS name when he moved from China to Hawaii, in part for expediency in conducting business. Well why not? How many families had changed their names when coming from the “old country” to Ellis Island? Was my move from Hawaii to the Contiguous States any different? The cultures are entirely alien, and in TO&S I had spun the name change undertaken to appease my ex-wife as a move to shield my offspring from having to be subject to scrutiny and speculation about their origins because of an ethnic name that had led to so many problems for me. Chandler is a gift to my kids, and a shelter from idiotic questions I’ve heard my entire life, and again at my first drill weekend back in the guards last weekend. My lieutenant was entering my social security number into a database and guessed I was born in Hawaii. I said no I was born in LA, but raised there – I got my social sec. id in Hawaii. And there it was, my old name in the system under “Other Names Used” and “A.K.A.”  and the LT shocked, excitedly asked “Hawaii?! What the heck are you doing here?!” and it was parroted by many in the room.

I was now an idiot to each mainlander in the room. Their incredulous stares said it all. My first impression was set “idiot”.

I’m always interrogated like I’m an idiot for leaving Hawaii and I’m damn piss poor tired of it and I’m not willing to put up with that anymore. I don’t want my kids to have to answer that same line of questioning and there is the answer. My ancestor wanted to fit in, he took a local name, I like to fit in too and skip awkward often pointed questions about my origins so the name change will stay.

Have I somehow failed to honor my father? As I had said he was often a monster, a fountain of unchecked rage of which my mother and I were frequently the target of. I can’t imagine how best to honor that except to be better than that and to try to keep the good parts of his legacy I outlined including holding up his ancestor and his story as a shining example. I have endeavored to honor my mother who hasn’t abandoned the ethnic name despite a ‘marriage’ to a new man – the only decent one she’s ever known by the way, and I can’t explain that. For her own reasons life with my dad might have been heaven the way I see my own marriage. I can’t say I ever saw it could have been - she was often in tears and miserable. I don’t recall many happy days for her, or many smiles being worn on her face. He often struck her, sometimes viciously and she had left or attempted to leave him on many occasions. Still she seems to apply rose colored glasses to that time in our life and maybe I’m too harshly critical out of fear of being even a little violent.

I lay awake wondering what would happen to my kids if a plane crashed into the house and killed me would my wife be able to get the kids to safety? What if we both died? Would someone get to my kids before they died? I don’t normally do this, it’s the normal process I think of dealing with loss and grief, the fear of loss of Pap-pap, we had hoped he would recover and we could visit as a family, and the loss of my father and his name, my mom had brought me artifacts including the Chief’s Anchors dad had hoped to pin on my collar one day. That day will never come, and I think it made me sad that it was something my dad and I could have shared happily, there was so little happiness in my early life and it is so abundant now the contrast so stark as to sometimes cause an abrupt and powerful reaction as hot and cold air coming together rapidly in the sky forming a tornado, only in the heart. What’s in a name? Nothing. We Are As We Do, not as we are named. Pap-Pap was a good man even if Pap-pap is a silly name for such a wonderful man. My father’s name though filled with lyrical beauty was something not quite so lovely, but he was my dad and were he here I’d dare him to find fault with my reasoning. If he is waiting for me in heaven I think he’ll understand and approve, if I don’t then in the next life I hope only to have a father as so many kids lack even that.

Ten Years Too Late

I'd like a refund from the Services please. As a guy whose had to change uniforms several times with duties that crossed service boundaries many times - I know it can get very expensive personally. Taxpayers have been taken to the cleaners on this, fleeced for billions on uniform studies, unique camo patterns, ego tripping seeking of a branch specific brand and recognition...for uniforms that are suppossed to be "camoflage" on the "battlefield".

House Votes to Eliminate Service Camo Patterns | Military.com

The senate will probably kill this sadly. I hope this works good work again House, at least a small part of our gov't is serious it seems about doing real work on the peoples business vice naming post offices (Senate) or building a dead on arrival immigration disaster on the scale of obamacare's debacle recently illustrated with HHS secretary's cold indifference to a dying girl here in PA.

Still living this...

I happened on this today. Good post, I lived this and as my fracas with the Navy draws to a close this month or the next, I continue to live it. I cannot wait for it to end.

English Historical Fiction Authors: Samuel Leech's Account of War at Sea: by Wanda Luce Every time I read Jane Austen's famous, historical novel Persuasion, I wonder what life for Captain Wentworth might h...

How did we get here?

This a great piece sent to me by my fiend Dr O. He's a brilliantly diabolical fellow who like me is secretly working to bring the whole place down from the inside. But all kidding aside, we were discussing terrorism and tactics and somehow got to this. It shifted the discussion to cognitive dissonance something I discuss a bit int TO&S and so worth highlighting here.

HANSON: A nation of promiscuous prudes - Washington Times

HT Hanson and Dr O.

Toddlers of War

I once took a position that it was too early to tell about the future of the nations we’ve recently invaded, Iraq and Afghanistan. In challenging a Marine Officer's assessment that Iraq was a win I said we’ll see what path the next generation takes the kids we gave candy to all those years - I said let’s wait and see their choices as political creatures over the next ten or fifteen years. And so here we are looking at Afghanistan on April Fools 2013 where it’s being reported a young man of 16 has stabbed an American SGT to death while he played with local children. They can’t verify the age of the attacker who escaped but if they’re speculating then this kid is probably someone known to other personnel on scene.

 So maybe we don’t have to wait that long to see where this has taken us.

Yes this is only one incident and I don’t offer it up as the final piece of evidence Afghan and Iraq actions have been for naught, there is ample evidence to back that hypothesis and little to show otherwise. No, this one incident is significant because if it’s true, the attacker is between 15 or 18 yoa. That means when we arrived there this attacker was barely a toddler between the ages of 3 and 5.

New meaning to the word 'infantry' (literally child or youngest soldiers).

Our benign empire has made a foe of a baby despite our best efforts to win hearts and minds, using our special forces to terrorize and abduct locals we knew (76% of the time or so) were terrorist ring leaders and describing dead relatives of this kid as collateral damage without facing scrutiny or justice is what brought us here. A guy from Kentucky barely old enough to realize the folly of our adventure is lost and in his place we have a new, young enemy and probably many others waiting to stab the rest of us in the neck.

There isn’t anyone to blame except ourselves, no one in government is individually responsible for the inept strategic planning or lack thereof, there is a lot of blame to go around as far as most American’s are concerned the war is over and has been for some time, we’re just waiting for one or two guys to come back since the president declared our exit date in 2009. Keep the 68,000 US service personnel in Afghan in your thoughts while you enjoy attacking the self-esteem of colleagues today with office pranks.  

Madness Abounds

Speaking with those I know and reading what can be seen from here everything in the arena of public affairs seems quite insurmountable, overwhelming and inexplicably maddening for its complexity and cognitive dissonance. Folks I know are just throwing up their hands and turning to various diversions – March Madness, speculation about what the Yankees and Red Sox will achieve this year compared to the Rangers or Tigers or if RGIII will be able to start week 1 and if so, how healthy will he be?

Trying to make a dent in the stupid that surrounds us is slow hard and tedious, we seem to be legislated into paralysis and it may be deliberate. In a discussion this morning about what should be a simple improvement I found bureaucratic inertia would not allow a seemingly simple improvement. Oddly I noted this same colleague clamoring vociferously for change when asked to participate in making it happen, beyond complaining – angrily declined the opportunity. So fifteen minutes of warming the air later, I too could use a distraction. I fired up Al Gore’s magnificent machine and find myself drawn into the daily drumbeat of Papal reporting.

I’m not Catholic, one of my grandmothers was and so I’m just a tad bit curious about it. I like this fellow, as he seems to embody a very simple and straightforward approach to life and leadership. He might even be a link to a more magical world, a more spiritual world a less complex, nuanced, litigious and murderous world. He offers the intoxicating distraction of a vibrant breathing mythology perhaps able to compete even with the NFL. We’ll see in the fall that’s for sure. But this allure of his might be his undoing; the attention he’s garnered, the popularity might it become a worldly celebrity or fame?

His past is not without controversy either with regards to rebels and mass murders in Argentina or his take on same sex marriage. Marriage and the state, the current SCOTUS docket is perhaps the finest recent example, next to sequestration - of the wheels coming off the bus as we approach a hairpin turn. I personally don’t care if you marry a lampshade, a kangaroo or a dinosaur fossil unless this costs money from the public treasury or reduces my own legitimate sensible families’ ability to compete for resources and to thrive.  You can call a duck a chicken but it’s a duck, that’s my take – also the gov’t is too deeply involved in our daily lives if this has become an issue of national importance of any priority.

Meanwhile North Korea is perhaps running out of threats and may be forced, by inertia of its own distracting mythology surrounding their leadership cult into a nuclear exchange and oblivion. Looking at defense related media it seems all are in agreement a reheated war with NK would be a quick and easy win for the US. I however remain unimpressed and skeptical – I remember how many wars have been sold to us this way, including Iraq. The first NK intervention of 1950, a mere 5 years after the 2nd war to end all wars comes to mind.

As a semi-retired soldier I had to think would I prefer to serve in this theatre or another? It seems there are so many opportunities for pointless gruesome death or murder around the globe in the name of some obscure objective on a classified memo. We got our bluff called in Syria but seem hell bent to attack Iran where we don’t have to go. NK is something that might happen to us more than us asking for it like we are in Uganda, Jordan or Iran. I don’t want to fight in the sand so if given a choice in the event of a recall I’m going to ask for the pacific theatre – NK mud and smaller opponents for melee combat vs. the larger specimens of the Barbary Coast, Fertile Crescent or the Holy Land.

If that’s the holy land, it belongs to a cult of death, one that justifies murder and war for personal gain and revenge, not in self-defense.

That brings me back to the Papal topic. I think part of the interest in the Pope is that if I understand his statements he equates murder with war and doesn’t yield to the nation state entity the power to bless or legitimize it. There is a public voice I can agree with- simple, reasoned and sane.

I hope. Not because I’m lining up to convert, only because I know he is capturing the imagination of and can mobilize a growing young church with great influence in the economic south.

So I offer a statement of support, a plea or a prayer if you will for this fellow who might break the lawyer's, profiteer's, bankster's and madmen's grip on the world – their rule is driving us to a new madness.

This new madness is a place where teenagers are threatening mothers and executing babies in strollers, lawyers argue that an unconscious girl consented to rape, and her peers film it while daring each other to urinate on her unconscious form and her mother offers her up to this cohort of stupid savages who haven’t the common decency to apologize to the girl or the country as a whole for having to be sickened by their misdeeds. I wonder about their religious affiliation, what denomination do they belong to?

So marry a kangaroo I don’t care – in fact I don’t want to know about it, do it in your basement without the government having to sanctify it or pay for it. I’ll slog on trying to keep my kids safe until they’re ready to wade into this society and its debates, hoping I prepare them better than the boys of a certain big red football program for a life among the mad.

Oh and GO Skins! Pope if you read this – put a good word in with God for RGIII wouldja?

Promised Update

The new year - a snake year brings us many wonderful new opportunities and challenges. North Korea is more nuclear than it was, some seem to be quite worried about it. File that one under "challenges". There is a job opening coming soon at the Vatican, polish those resumes up if you're from the 3rd world. Internet rumors have it that the church, not to be outdone by the US is leaning towards a black or third world Pope for a change. If you're from the third world I think you've got more pressing concerns that race quotas in hiring but I want to wish all the candidates in the economic south well in seeking the post - good luck fellas, I'm quite sure you can't see this from there. Internet rumor quality what it is, the smart money is on a Polish or Japanese Pope instead. File under "opportunity".

I have another opportunity for consideration, a savings opportunity for the country. There is a lot of hand wringing and posturing about budget issues; Admirals cutting ship maintenance and telling the administration publicly it can't meet commitments and JOs over at the USNI blog suggesting senior leaders resign in protest, coincidentally opening up promotion opportunities for themselves. No need for the high drama, there are many simple cost-savings measures and if you recall, this blog believes sequestration is only a good start.

One reason I believe the sequester is a good start is the US Navy Reserves. As you know I've been in a simmering feud with them for some years regarding my final retirement status. Recently the 3 star in charge there has decided to appoint an ethnic employment champion for Hispanics whatever that means. Apparently, if you are from the Iberian peninsula, and blond you are not Hispanic. So they can do away with that six-figure salary person first, and this admiral who clearly has misplaced priorities. I think he's angling for a position on the Hon. Sen.  Rubio's presidential campaign staff for a 2016 or 2020 presidential run. Another reason is the DoD has long resisted common sense money saving ideas that other agencies had instituted long ago. Here at the DoC, for instance, we've altered printing habits and reduced printers inventory.

Originally I criticized the idea as too small to make much difference, and possibly counter-productive as printing volume will not decrease proportionally with the printing capability resulting in higher wear and tear on equipment, lost production time and reprints as documents are lost in shared printer schemes where office partners don't get along well. I thought it was a piece of low hanging fruit; shaving the hair off the elephant to reduce its weight when there was still a charging elephant to deal with. It might weigh a wee bit less without its hair but it might also be more aerodynamic and it's going to hit you with approximately the same force it would with the added weight of its hair. Still, the idea is a potential money saver (the jury remains out) despite the cost in man-hours to plan the excess, ship and strip equipment, re-network offices, increased wear and tear and the loss of sunk costs related to discarding equipment not yet halfway through its service life. In some cases, older printers were retained for special abilities newer (cheaper to operate) printers did not have.

Despite the idea having little proven merit, the printer reduction idea is one good example of an attempt however half-witted it might be, that the DoD resisted until just a few weeks ago when it issued a directive to reduce printing. The DoD directive was less extensive than the DoC one, in that it did not require draft quality printing of images and prohibit color but it is so late to the party as to be useless in realizing any immediate savings. Toner, paper, and maintenance contracts for existing soon to be discarded printers in inventory are sunk costs already misspent.

Okay so this sounds like a lot of complaining for nothing. Where is my big idea? In 2009 I put together a small paper and submitted it to the White House as a savings idea when they solicited ideas from government employees. My little idea might have helped then and still might help. In the beginning it would have saved over $75 million dollars, now I don't know what it might realize but I'm putting it back out there again here for reference.

Eagle and the Owl.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Chinese New Year and Homecoming!

If you haven’t found a fitting gift for your sweetheart it’s probably not too late. I’m one of the lucky ones, not only do I get adequate spam from various vendors of appropriately themed tchotchkes I also am well organized and forward oriented in my use of something called a calendar. I highly recommend them; they’ve been in use in one design or another for some time and can be used to ensure you don’t miss any upcoming or recurring events.  My lovely editor helped me plan our mutual gifting, our shared favorite a night away from the chaos of the rug rats who will observe the holiday with grandma. There will be the expected surprise of course, but she generously sets the bar low making it easy for me.

Speaking of calendars and recurring events though – things that happen again and again like revolutions, there is way too much angry, paranoid, socially withdrawn talk out there about revolutions again. I don’t want to revisit the Stop It post, so I won’t. The recent open justice ‘revelations’ about the torture program carried out by the CIA is nothing new. The DOJ memo discussing and endorsing the legal killing of citizens (including minors) with remote control robots and without due process is nothing new either. I would encourage those who are in opposition to these abusive policies carried out in their names to use the processes we have to oppose them, reverse them and restore some semblance of sanity and accountability. But in the spirit of the holiday let’s not take any hostages okay?

As a nation we collectively watched as one little boy with some social developmental difficulties was taken hostage, after his unarmed citizen defender was gunned down by some very angry old fellow and held for a week in a bunker. Did you know the gunman and hostage taker was a veteran? You probably couldn’t escape that “fact”.

No word on the military status of the bus driver, the hero in this episode.

Nor has the DoD officially verified that this kidnapper fellow was a veteran or that he served honorably.  It’s alleged he was a Vietnam era vet and thus possibly a draftee from another era, another time – hardly representative of all veterans.  Since his service some 40 year ago he has become a wholly different person. His life since Nam has since shaped and altered him over time far more than his service might reasonably be blamed for.

This kidnapper’s service had nothing to do with his killing of the bus driver, or his decision to be a violent sociopath – we have many of those in the civilian populace to which he belonged to until being killed by our government. Rumor has it his neighbors knew this man was dangerous but no one reached out to him – why? Are we not our brother’s keeper in the age of ever expanding friend networks across the World Wide Web? Do we embrace only those at a safe distance and ignore our neighbors as a matter of course?  

I for one am tired of hearing servicemen and women smeared as damaged or incapable, less equal and dangerous because of PTSD which does not make one violent. We don’t look at victims of other trauma that can cause PTSD (rape for instance) and marginalize them as ticking time bombs of violence waiting to go off. Why not? Because it’s not right, it’s quite stupid. Somehow the media and pop culture has decided they get a pass on civility and are allowed to smear veterans and military service writ large. The former Navy sniper killed this past week by a fellow veteran wasn’t just murdered in cold blood in a horrible tragedy; he was killed by a veteran with PTSD (whom he was trying to help). We might never know the details, and perhaps that’s for the best but nor should we be suggesting that PTSd is to blame.

First, it’s not a disorder, post-traumatic stress is a normal reaction to trauma, its normal and we heal with time usually, though sometimes a little help is necessary. Symptoms vary widely but it’s hardly a disorder. Second, not every veteran has it, not everyone who has it is a veteran and PTS, while presenting different ways is not normally violent. I do make the mistake of blaming my dad’s violent tendencies on PTS in TO&S but that isn’t fair – I too guilty of the conditioning by the media anxious to avoid attributing it to a character flaw in his own nature but it wasn’t the PTS that mad my dad prone to violent outbursts.  

It’s Valentine’s Day, enjoy and celebrate the spirit of romantic and filial love. Say hello to a neighbor even if he may not be the friendliest chap, maybe he or she is just lonely or enduring a loss. Perhaps it’s seasonal affected disorder. Stop being angry at the government for making our veteran’s ticking time bombs or shredding the constitution or what have you – take a deep breath, smell the roses and eat a chocolate truffle with a loved one, a neighbor, your cat – a picture of an old friend and be happy for a moment. No one you can think of? Go hug a veteran coming home off a plane. Lots of them come home to empty apartments or in the case of sailors an empty pier. Bring one flowers; guys like flowers too.

This would be an appropriate occasion to write a letter to your wife, girlfriend or even your mom.  And if for some reason you are unable to be excited and happy for the holiday, say you’re not catholic or don’t believe in saints or hallmark holidays guess what? Chinese new year’s is just around the corner (Feb 10^th) and I promised a post about it but I’ll be neck deep in adventure this weekend (of the romantic kind) and so a brief update of the prior new year’s post next week will have to suffice. Mom, Sis, if you’re reading this I love you both. My lovely editor gets her sentiments in analog format. Wolf, Alvie, Josh and Nick (both of you) I love you guys too - better brothers couldn't be wished for or coceived in the wildest work of fiction - I'm forever proud to have been in your company.

Good luck out there folks, keep your head on a swivel and remember when gifting – there is an art to understatement don’t get crazy!

No One Asked, 2012 In Review with Bonus Wife Haiku!

It’s time for the obligatory year in review. But I don’t really want to do a trite retrospective on the past year, I would prefer to use the Chinese New Year to mark that occasion and we’ll do a full review then, watch for it in February. If I had to do a review of 2012 now, what would I start with?

First, for all you cowboys fans, let me talk you back from the edge, Romo will be your quarterback for at least another year, you’ve got nothing to worry about – no playoffs in 2013 either, you should be more or less used to it by now.

And speaking of cliffs, falling and failing, government continues to show us why, even in its best form it is only a necessary evil (thank you Thomas Paine) and this government is far from anything you might describe as “best”. Besides accelerating profligate spending mortgaging our future (death note – how did that catch on?) they’ve signed legislation to permit detaining of US citizens without due process in the 2012 NDAA, we've killed US citizens including minors, using robot drones without due process (in Yemen?), disclosed that the soul selling torture program didn’t yield useful intelligence and just extended warrantless wiretapping for another five years, all on the heels of some state police trooper giving 3 citizens a completely unnecessary (punitive) cavity search on a busy roadside.

Terrorism is down, school shootings and murders of children in areas with strict gun controls are up. It’s important to note that though there were seven theatres close to the batman shooter in Colorado, the one he chose was the only one that boasted it was a “gun free” (i.e. defenseless victim) zone. The shooter was smart enough to choose a smaller theatre, further away from his house where he knew there was virtually no chance he would face returning fire.

Yet government still seeks to disarm more of us. Intolerable.

I might own a firearm, I might not. I certainly have in the past. I’ve even sold some of my old guns. If the government wants mine anytime soon...

Though I work for the government, I am by no means its representative or under any obligation to waive my rights as a citizen. Excepting that I cannot run for partisan public office under the “Hatch Act”. No big deal, my life hardly centers on government. If it did I would have had a terrible year indeed!

Fortunately, I’m a Redskins fan. And I’ve been waiting more than ten years to be able to say “fortunately” and “Redskins” in the same sentence. So that’s a great thing, though not the greatest. Some folks are on the radio talking about how this win last night by the Skins over the Boys (28-18) is the happiest day of their lives others are comparing their joy with that of the birth of their children. Quite insane, amusing but also worrisome for the priorities American’s might have now. I could see a fan choosing to go to a game while his wife languishes in labor alone to deliver their first child.

Two parent families are an increasingly rarity these days, and while I suspect some would chose to go to the game, many won’t have to choose or even be aware that their ‘baby-mommas” will deliver until they get a text message from a relative or an invite to Maury.

I am thankful that I didn’t have to choose between the birth and football; all of my kids were born in the off season or early in the season, and none on a Sunday. The final member of the brood, readers know, arrived in April during the lockout negotiations. The completion of my family, now only missing a large dog is one of the greatest developments of 2012.

The only event that rivals the arrival of KB is something that I hope will continue into 2013 and beyond. My lovely editor continues to defy time and space – sorry Einstein. And I don’t pay her enough to invest in miraculous and expensive beauty treatments but she is getting prettier and younger even as I crumble having lost some ½ and inch in height this year. I’m not worried; she was out of my league to begin with, now she’s a trophy wife. I am awed by how she has managed to do it. I suspect it’s something in the ice cream or cookies, maybe the clean country air? I have no idea…something in the water out here in Gettysburg perhaps?

Speaking of my lovely editor, here is her New Year’s Eve Haiku – please to enjoy:

Another year gone

Time to face new adventures

Glad it’s with you, kiss

2012 was so busy for me; I hardly had a chance to blink. I blinked, had a kid, blinked wife got prettier, blinked a couple more times and curiously I shrank. I blinked again and government was misbehaving and the Redskins went from 3-6 to #4 seed in the playoffs as division champs. My warranty on my car expired as I’ve surpassed 36k miles (last week). I didn’t learn a new language, pick up another hobby, make much in the way of new friends, find a new job or finish my novel. I did manage to finish school and my first book; I got a twitter account (blech), opened this joint, I more than doubled charitable contributions (legit charities IRS) and added a new dimension to my career even as I closed the book on the military aspect, retiring from the Navy though the legal battle there over my status will go on into 2013.

2012 was a wonderful year for me and my family. We can look back on a year of getting more comfortable in our newly adopted hometown, in our new home and with our new neighbors. Certainly we are looking forward to next year, I plan to begin martial arts and music instruction for my kids this year though some might say I’m behind the 8ball on the music, timing is about right for kung-fu.

2013 might be crazy folks, be careful out there. The government is hell bent for leather to do who knows what or why (or shut itself down), al-qaeda is still out there, mentally ill shut-ins and angry adolescents have easier access to weapons than you do, including futuristic remote-controlled flying robots with guns (go to you tube search quadrotor and professional Russian) and folks with misguided priorities are shamelessly abandoning their families to see a kids game played by millionaires in bright costumes. Who knows what might happen?!? Keep your head on a swivel, and keep your powder dry, good luck!



Holiday Haiku

It's been a busy holiday season and very tough to write anything not exclusively for my employer.  I've been researching Dragon 12 home edition to see if that's something that might be useful for me and I suspect that yes it is. 

My ongoing dispute with the Navy has moved to a new phase and nearing conclusion for better or worse. It's not a primary concern now. 

What is important is making sure we look out for each other. Not just our family and friends but all of us, our communities at large. Though I was able to increase my donations this year to the Gettysburg Community Soup Kitchen by giving in the summer, when their annual winter solicitation mailer arrived I felt disappointed when I had to check the smallest suggested donation amount this year. I wanted to give more, and worried they'd notice we had reduced our donation not taking into account the check I sent in July. So I wrote a tiny memo on the return form saying "sorry it's not more, we sent out donation in the summer". I hope my silly note defending my insecurity elicits a laugh at least. 

I lost the mailer from the fire department and the SSCS accidentally got a little extra this year for the Southern Ocean Campaign. Adventures in giving...

But taking care of each other isn't just about money for charities. It is about those closest too us too, thankfully they don't usually need money -- well they generally lack the gall to just come out and ask for it though I'm sure they could use it. I have a dear friend who is in dire need this year. I think what he needs most is a laugh now and then. That's the best I can do for him anyway considering the distance separating us. Sometimes there is no substitute for being able to look a pal in the eye and reassure them with your presence, a hand on a shoulder or a jab in the arm punctuating a joke. You can't e-mail that, but this is my attempt. 

Today our office held the annual Morlock basement holiday luncheon. My office partner and Dr. O at my table with the events gracious host decided to talk about Haitian and Guatemalan public sanitation standards and I didn't remain for long after two failed attempts to redirect the conversation to something more appropriate. I reported to my far away crestfallen friend about the event describing how I over ate and I almost wrote a Haiku. I decided I would finish it and gift it to my friend for the holiday - so this one is for you. Sorry if it isn't appropriate for table talk but it reflects the season, the event and the situation I described above rather completely I believe. 

Holiday party

Ate too much fried chicken skin

Nap now, then go poo

Yes it is not a perfect "Haiku" but I'm not Japanese either. You might remember friend when e-mail signatures were still new and sometimes funny, not such an annoyance. I had signed mine with the Emperor's haiku he sent to his government asking for restraint before the Pearl Harbor attack...silly, but good times.


UPDATE: My lovely editor has gotten in the spirit, also thank you Ed for your contribution. Here is the revised version and my editors own Holiday Haiku.

Original revised:

Holiday Party

Too much chicken to eat, nom

Nap then second plate

Editor's Haiku

Christmas time is here

Too many gifts to wrap, boo!

Now i need a drink

Well done sweetie!

Veterans Day

In my family there is a tradition, I take the son out for lunch usually with my other veteran friends but sometimes alone, just me and the boy. This year is so far, removed from so many of my warrior brethren I think it will be just me and the boys, though the new one only eats Gerber baby food and bottled milk he should be there too. We’ll pause to give thanks to the other veterans out there, my father and his generation of veterans, and the boys who may one day be themselves, veterans.

In TO&S I plead with them to avoid service saying that I have studied war so that they may study philosophy but I’m also aware of the allure that military adventure has held for young men throughout time. If the boys both choose not to serve in uniform, that’s all the more reason for them to pause and thank the veterans in their lives. I hope to instill a tradition of stopping to give thanks while letting others scramble for deep discounts on mattresses or cars or whatever.  

Thank you Applebee’s, more often than not this traditional luncheon is mostly free, I pay for a drink or two and my son’s meal but I eat free.

Most importantly though thanks to those who are still standing the watch, flying into harm’s way, standing on the wall, or imperiled on the sea and to those who have done so in the past. God Bless you and yours.

It's nice that this holiday comes on the heels of a national election, regardless of the outcome and how one might feel about it the process we just endured over the silly season with all its desperate rhetoric and jockeying is proof of our enduring republic's health. Yes, some argue we're in decline others point to a new horizon - we're America and it matters not who is president, we're all bigger than that. We're safe from any boogie man one side may paint the other side's candidate to be. Why?

One word - Veterans.

All of them.

Their courageous example allows us to engage in the sometimes raucous tradition of elections. Without them we could ill afford to stop all national affairs for eighteen months and fight amongst ourselves, there are very real wolves at the door and only our apolitical Marines, Navy, Army and Air Force (okay you too Coast Guard) keep them at bay so we can indulge in our democracy. 

Our process is a privilege, a birthright won anew each generation by our veterans.

So while I would prefer the boys to avoid service, I would be no less proud of them if they heeded the call that I have answered for nearly two decades.

A special thank you is due also to my former commanders and mentors who over the years have helped me survive their command, but also to thrive as a soldier and man. BG Wolfman, SFC Nick, MSgt Pickles, The Genie - thank you. And to my peers and subordinate who have survived my leadership in uniform - Alvie, Clarkie, the Brick Flight and so many others - thank you for putting up with me in service to our great country and its traditions.

As a side note I've been honored to have been asked to speak at the NIST Veteran's Day Observance. I'll be giving an invited talk "One Veteran's Story". If you would like to attend on the 14th let me know I'll register you with the visitor center security control point.

Despite this news, I will still refuse to eat Tilapia.

Sadly, there is no easy path to agreement on protection of these all too exhaustable resources. I'm not a greenie but the importance of the sea in planetary health briefly touched on in TO&S makes it worth the effort.

Science Daily Piece: Deep-sea fish in deep trouble

Species to avoid?

Orange Roughy for starters...any sharks and many other species.

Farm raised (probably more) sustainable species, though not without problems of their own, should be selected when possible though I reserve the right to frown at anyone who offers me Tilapia which I know by a less flattering name.

If you insist on presenting me with tilapia, be sure it's in a heady sauce like a spicy curry or some such thing. Chunked with gold or new world potatoes and some shrimp or carrots. Preferably served with a abbey style ale or a porter.

Mahalo

Friday Film Fun

Tis nice to have a little fun on Friday. In the basement we watch movies. PG stuff so that guests aren't offended or frightened away. In our lobby here in the basement. I starting doing that about a month or six weeks ago. Makes the day go much quicker. You see the government doesn't work on Fridays.

We have alternate work schedules, and so a significant portion of the work force is off every other Friday and Monday. On the other Monday or Friday a lot of folks burn a leave day (and some how never run out of them) or telework - which means they've gone fishing.

Congress doesn't even bother pretending to work 5 days a week, they only work Tues-Thurs. I wish I had a three day work week, seems that would be the right balance. I can do as much as I do in 5 days in 3 or 2 really since there is significant down time - spent awaiting replies from folks who don't work everyday like I do.

Friday's are quiet here in the basement so movies were the perfect thing. We can't all agree on music here or which news radio station to stream on the computers, so movies and film which I talk about a bit in TO&S that are family friendly-ish, we all agree on. Today we got a little crazy and watched the ultra violent Independence Day special edition and Jurassic Park III which features a kid in more peril than in the previous two, the tween/pre-teen is nearly eaten at one point - it's quite terrible but thankfully he gets out alive faring better than half the humans in the cast.

ID is harmless fun, violent explosions but otherwise ridiculous. The aliens aren't terribly interesting and the jokes aren't great but even bad movies are fun and can bring the team together for a laugh or two. Next is Over the Hedge, without a doubt, Bruce Willis's best work. Then I go home to give gramma her gifts for watching the monsters so the wife and I can go out, she deserves and I've tried to keep at least one day a week - usually Friday, kitchen cooking and clean up free at night. We can't always go out anymore like we could before inflation destroyed our financial picture but tonight we're gonna try.

Last night we took the little ones out to Wells Family Bakery which is excellent (try the cheese cake) for their fun night out this week. The bakery is keeping later hours now, just so locals can have another desert option - Merican's need more desert options and the wife and I might pop in there tonight for some hot apple cider after we try the (questionable) sushi selection at the place she wants to try but has mixed reviews and so will go unnamed here.

But the Bakery is awesome - go there, just a few doors down if you're in town is the best pub too the Gary Owen, the benburburger (the lamb one) is awesome and they make their chips in house too. great beers on tap and a strong bottle selection. Just don't take my table please. Thank you I don't get to take the wife out much and I'd hate to find a 45 minute wait again when we only have the sitter for 2 hours.

Christmas Shopping

This is going to be tough this year. I haven't monetized this blog and most of my traffic is my sister and some folks in Russia. If you Russian guys are tuning in today I'd like one of those "Professional Russian" hoodies with the backwards 'R' that guy is always wearing when he blows stuff up on youtube. He's funny, and yes I'm sure he's not at the peak of his popularity but his kind of mildly subversive fun is timelessly and harmlessly funny. Except to the items he destroys and perhaps some of his friends who may or may not be missing fingers.

Yes it's not even Halloween yet, but after that favorite holiday everything moves really quickly with 2 birthdays and thanksgiving which I've you know my love of turkey and gravy, you understand the planning and work that goes into making that right.

And friends are important (more so than bacon or gravy but about equal to the two combined). Their importance of course is inversely proportional to the number of friends you have. I have very few and like heroes they're wonderfully imperfect people, like me they're a little bit different but they're all family men, and men of Honor and all very hard to shop for!

My lovely wife is hard to shop for too, she doesn't think so I'd imagine but she is. It's not because she's high maintenance or has expensive taste, not at all nor is she a demanding bully or anything like that. She's happy with attention and time spent away from the daily grind of diapers and schlepping kids to the day care, grocery store and grasshopper (Panda's word for gas station). And of course with my wonderful gift for gifting I've set the bar too high too early in the relationship in my all out hell bent for leather bid to woo her.

Mission accomplished.

Still friends are hard to find gifts for. Especially when they're all cast far and wide across the world. I wish I knew how Vinny was doing with his exotic aggressive cancer diagnosis. I'd sure like to see him again, and the rest of the Brick Flight too. Good buncha troopers. I got friends nearby I get to see some time or at least talk to regularly I'd sure like to see them away from the daily grind maybe with the wives too so we can all have a laugh and buy those guys a beer.

The First Class Mess break up was most unfortunate. We couldn't talk Kris out of separating. I can't blame him for not re-enlisting under the circumstances he felt his time was wasted there though I hope he didn't mean with the Mess. I talked to Jeff the other day we talked about catching the NY / WAS game when the G-men come to town. It probably won't happen FedEx field isn't a cheap ticket but I'd like to do that and call that a Xmas gift for all in attendance.

That would be great for some of us but some friends, like Vinny have serious problems and are in a dark place. A football game or a pint isn't going to be enough to lift them, and they could probably use a bit more help with whatever troubles them. For my part I'd like to help but I find myself awkwardly unable to find simple words of comfort even. One of my friends is having the classic marital problems for example, he tells me that its tough for him and though I've been through similar but simpler problems I can't find any thing more to say than "I'm here if you need me" I hope that friend knows I mean it, he was there for me when I needed him and I owe him nothing less.

Those are the kind of bonds you can only form under fire, be it from the enemy or an angry Colonel who wants this or that metric, spreadsheet or report you don't have ready access to. Sometimes I tell folks I've never been prouder of what I did in the Army, but I think it's less what I did than who I was with that I'm proud of. Those great friendships the 28th Infantry, USS Enterprise and 1st Class Mess I realize are what kept me going back despite all of the personal challenges, disappointments and sacrifices required to be a part of that. Yes, I've read and heard all of the stories of veterans saying precisely this and didn't always understand it. Seems I'm a very slow learner. Thanks guys, while I no longer stands the watch this year I might only be able to gift you my gratitude and a salute.

And to you professional russians, nothing to see here everything is just fine. Yes I saw recently in Pravda that you guys have put long range missiles back into Cuba right under our noses - how rascally! But Pravda is only marginally more credible than the Onion, though Iran hasn't got that memo, please inform them when you send them your annual christmas letter and box of hickory farms.

Happy Halloween Folks!

Sigrunn's Saga III

Before the sun rose she halted, relieved the bleeding had stopped. She rubbed some dirt and spit together in her gloved hands to make fresh mud to cover the wound.  She avoided contact with any one she saw from the scrub as she headed north towards the mountain. The next afternoon she noticed a man was following her, he looked like one of her people and she suspected he was tracking her for the Jarl who surely wanted her as dead as she wished him to be. She did her best to avoid him but he was quickly overtaking her. He seemed to know where she was going and so she decided to make a stand.

She set a trap to injure him and laid in ambush. Soon he was close and she recognized him as the hunter Harard. Though she was over six feet tall, he was more than twice her bulk, heavily muscled and unarmored able to move quickly. She didn’t know where the quiet Harard’s allegiance was; with the Jarl and the new god or with her and the old way. She thought she could beat him as he had no shield or mail but worried who else would be sent and she coulnd't help but feel slighted to learn only one tracker had been sent to bring her down.

For his part Harard had no trouble tracking the heavily encumbered, wounded and fatigued princess, unaccustomed to long marches in the wilderness. She had taken pains to avoid detection meaning she had to take still more time moving through concealment blazing her own trail. This left an obvious path for any hunter could follow from more easily traveled ground. He had spotted her ambush from beyond bow shot but could not see her. He guessed where she was hiding and headed for the trap to lure her out. He reached the snare and called out “princess I am Harard, I come as an ally, show yourself!”

She readied her axe “go home while you still can hunter tell the Jarl I’ll be back for him in my own time.”

“Princess I serve you and Vatun. After you cut down the missionary the Jarl sent a party out to kill you but they ran into the dwarfs seeking the one who had killed two of their own near our village.”

She gave a look around to see if he had others with him. “Where is your hunting party Harard? Your sons?”

“I am alone but they are coming if the dwarfs did not clash with the Jarl's men, they’ll be following you too, following me and I have no sons.”

“Why are you here then?” she quizzed him.

“The dream, the wooden castle was a prison. The witch a servant of his foes - a warden! You saw his prison; I was with you trapped there too. I quit the hunting party when I had the dream, there are others in the village who would rally to your banner and kill the heretic Cuthbert men and make slaves of the dwarves.”

Sigrunn’s belly rumbled hungrily “You seek then to join me? To answer his call if that’s what this vision is?”

“Yes, if you seek to steal into his prison to free him I swear my life is yours to command, my steel shall not fail you!”

Arrogantly she asserted her rank “you seek only to enter my bed, and you will not no matter how cold the night! And we shall see how true your brave words are soon I sense…”

Harard sensing their shouted conversation has attracted attention steps closer to her hiding place, sidestepping the snare prompting her to show herself “Princess, you are beautiful and I will live to see you eat your words on both counts.” He raises his yew bow and notches an arrow turning away from her shifting his attention and aim towards something approaching. She looks past him squinting to see what approaches from out of the sun – it’s a pair of the Jarl's men. They hurl a spear over her head as a sacrifice to the god and advance drawing their heavy broad swords from their sides, one of the warriors speaks “good job Harard, now step aside.”

“I’m not done with her yet you’ll have to wait for your turn.”

Sigrunn wastes no time on talk she leaps to the attack finding her strength suddenly renewed she lands to the side of her foe, swinging wildly feigning incompetence and madness, bait the warrior takes. He lazily steps aside to strike her down, his foot falling into her snare and he howls as he hears his ankle snap, pierced by the spikes placed inside the concealed knee deep hole. He drops to his side dropping his blade as Harard draws fires point blank into the other man’s eye. The arrows haft punches out the back of his skull, knocking the helmet from his head. He falls in a crumpled heap. The screams of the wounded man becomes a pleading for mercy as Sigrunn kicks his sword away and knocks his helmet off with her axe. Raising her weapon over her head she turns to Harard “how many more?”

“There were eight of us princess” Harard answers sullenly – suddenly consumed with sorrow for the loss of the men – friends of his until now. 

The wounded man cries out “the others are with the dwarfs, as prisoners – they might be killed if we do bring you to them in three days’ time!”

 “Then they will die, traitors to god as shall you…”

“NO!” he cries his last as she brings her axe down across his throat cutting deeply into his chest. He falls over sideways, his head dangling backwards, partly severed from his body propped up by his armor, shield and her trap holding his broken leg in place.

Sigrunn warns Harard to “take their mail, if more come we’ll need it. Leave their bodies for the crows they deserve no peace in the other world. They die cowards without a name, forget them” she hacks away the dead men’s faces with quick strokes of her axe and helps Harard to strip them. Once their work is done Harard asks “why are we heading to the mountain princess, what do we seek there?”

“God knows, I do not. Before we go, do you have any food?”

He pulls a wrapped cake from his pack saying “the dead man’s wife made these for us” as he hands it to her.

Sigrunn unwrapped the tiny soft cake and stuffed it whole into her mouth, her eyes lit up happily “mmm…” she chewed and swallowed it and without a hint of remorse then declared “that’s good cake” tucking her axe away in its sheath. The pair started into a jog and made their camp with a mixed group of miners; men and dwarves that night. They had no knowledge of Sigrunn’s outlaw status and welcomed the pair. Though Sigrunn was uncomfortable with the dwarves she supped with them and the men who she thought smelled slightly less offensively.

Unable to eat the last cake, Harard trades it for wine at the miner’s camp. He gave that to the princess when he had his fill and she greedily chugged it, thanking him but reminding him again of his place saying “not tonight hunter, not so easily."

Sigrunn's Saga II

She moves quickly back behind the ridge line and off the trail to avoid further confrontation. Sigrunn moves with deliberate speed across the rough sloping ground until dusk. She stops to rest at a creek, not knowing the source she chances a drink then scouts out a hide where she can rest for the night. She makes a fire and prays for guidance and with her belly empty she drifts off to sleep beside smoldering embers under a starlit sky.

She dreams of a great wooden castle full of riches and dwarfs and a horrible fat witch with arms that reach four fathoms, ending in heavy square hands with fingers thick and hard as ram ’s horns. The witch chases her about the castle and Sigrunn struggled to escape with a companion whose face she could not see, a man she did not know.

Chains would appear from the darkness at the witches command and snake toward Sigrunn and her friend trying to ensnare them. The witch spat curses at Sigrunn and threatened to "devour her living guts as she watched her die". She could not deter the witch with any brave call or command, and desperate from fatigue she invoked the gods’ names and the witch though bothered continued to hound her. Sigrunn felt a thick chain catch her by her neck and awoke abruptly.

Cricket song filled the warm summer night’s air. Bats soared above silhouetted by the moons soft glow. She sat up and noticed she was bleeding again; the wound, just under her jaw was bleeding scratched open again in her disturbed sleep. She stood thinking it near enough to dawn to get moving again. She lit a torch and put her hand against the wound to staunch the flow. She hung her shield over opposite shoulder which caused her right arm to tire as she trudged on.

Sigrunn's Saga

Okay so enough pontificating on celebretards, philosophy or the Navy and Gov't, those guys all get beat up a lot it's hard working in government and the celebretards don't care about negative press. Today I start a new thread, a short story that cuts across a collaborative fiction piece about a barbarian settler and her experiences in this strange land ruled by creatures abhorrent to her, not the least of which is a wizard she is related to by marriage.

Almost sounds like a really bad sitcom. It's something I've been playing with putting together with Alvie there in Pottsville he's busy with soccer coaching or something now so I haven't heard much from him lately but he chimes in when he sees a piece of the Sigrunn story to say how much he's enjoying it. To be fair he is very much to blame for Sigrunn. She cuts across his greyhawk campaign which occurs in the patriots of Ulek time frame CY 570 plus I believe. When we begin Sigrunn has abandoned the settlement at Norn Redding Kragg after a falling out with her uncle the Jarl Har Vor.

***

Sigrunn stained her blond braids red and black with gore as she pulled them away from her face. She let out a triumphant grunt as she freed her axe, one-handed, from the dead priest’s spine. She raised it chest high, just enough so its weight would carry it through his neck. Satisfied she knelt beside the headless corpse and claimed her trophy, wiping her iron blade clean on his frock before returning it to its sheath. She drew a long knife from its hiding place and cut the young man’s scalp away and shook his brain loose into the fine dust of the ancient road. She tied the trophy to a string of others thinking that it will make a fine bowl and she looked forward to drinking her favorite wine from it. She put the knife away and stood, picking up the priests book thinking the leaves would come in handy for cleaning herself and her kit on the way to her destination.

She stopped to kick the dead fool's brain away then strode across the road to recover her helmet. She stepped over the other cleaved men lying motionless face down in the dirt. She didn’t bother to take their unworthy scalps. They had run when she launched herself upon them - only the youngest had the courage to stand against her. When she bent over to recover her helmet she noticed the ox hide strap had been cut away in the fighting. She tugged her gauntlet off and checked her throat and chin, finding her own blood she checked again. “It’s not serious” she thought tying the helmet to her belt and continued down the road to the next village.

Cresting a hill she spotted the first village beneath a dead and ruined castle atop a hillock on the far side of the settlement. “Dwamud” she hatefully spat. She despised the greedy filthy dwarfs who lived under the mountains, especially the weak and soft lot that inhabited this new shore. She spotted a pair making their way up the road toward her singing gaily and she thought briefly of challenging them but then decided to try to speak to them first.

She did her best to look friendly, raising a hand to hail them and they returned her greeting warmly. A few frustrating moments later Sigrunn was finding it impossible to be understood by the little sods and she was beginning to become angry at their rude leering and gesturing. She pushed them aside and bid them farewell. The dwarfs followed her and became louder and more animated so she pulled her axe from its sheath and cut them low leaving them writhing in agony, bleeding to death on the hill road. She decided to bypass the dwarf settlement and continued on her way north towards the mountains that called to her since coming to this shore a season ago.

***

Sigrunn is an angry creature out for blood maybe we should do a kids story...