On the British Police shooting dead a suspected bomber -- Good job, too. One can get pretty much the same amount of instant, functional intel from an autopsy and a raid on a dead bomber's home as from a living, but deeply uncooperative suspect who won't give you his name or anything else.
You can get a lot more of use out of that autopsy and raid than you can from a bomber who escaped into the crowd, or who blew the crowd apart. Plus, he doesn't blow the crowd apart; and he doesn't escape to do more mayhem; and you don't have to worry about him being set free by some politician attempting to bargain with the terrorists, as all those IRA bombers were by that same British government.
Of course, if he was innocent, you killed an innocent man. This is a great moral risk, but be honest with yourself: would you rather live with the pain of having shot dead an innocent man, or the pain of having not shot dead a man who proceeded to blast apart a busload of school children? Giving that you're gambling on the two options, your choice is surely clear.
On Bob Byrd -- The Honorable Byrd has a way with words, doesn't he? "One's life is probably in no greater danger in the jungles of deepest Africa than in the jungles of America's large cities... In my judgment, much of the problem has been brought about by the mollycoddling of criminals by some of the liberal judges who have been placed on the nation's courts in recent years."
Well, OK. But the question ought not to be, 'is one's life in greater danger in an American city or an African jungle?' It ought to be, 'is one's life in greater danger in an American city or an African city?' Africa's most orderly cities compare unfavorably even to America's least orderly ones -- those few remaining outposts, like the District of Columbia, which deny the right to keep and bear arms.
And if you want to compare African jungles to the American wilderness, well, let's not even bother. Africa remains both the original human homeland, and the most perilous place on earth. This explains a lot about humans.
On New York City's bag-searches -- Terrorism is very destructive to liberty. But it doesn't have to be. I remain convinced that, before this is over, the war is going to lead to the end of the American city -- not through the detonation of WMD, but through making the places even more totally unlivable.
The economic justification for the city fades every year with the increase in telecommunications and other infrastructure. Combine that with 'just in time' transit systems, and there's no reason to have a city except for deep-water ports. Even these will mainly be necessary as distribution points for the broader society, and collection points for what remains of our manufacture-for-export industry. The manufacturer itself can easily erect a very small "company town" in one of the emptier parts of the country, using an airport or interstate to send its goods where they need to be sent. As is already the case in Savannah, there is no reason for the port city to be occupied with any major industry except the port itself. Thus, even in this case you can have a small city in terms of population performing what remains of the urban economic function.
The need to distribute goods somewhat more widely will result in a heavier use of oil prodcuts; but the increase in telecommuting will vastly decrease our current levels of consumption. My sense is that something like most of our gasoline goes into private cars driving you from home to your place of business. When a sizable part of the culture just stays home to work, that's a lot of gasoline that doesn't get used.
Why, then, should we put up with these violations of the Fourth Amendment, such as we see in NYC today? One can argue that they're necessary on mass transit systems; so why have that many people in one place? The effect of this distribution of the population is the defense of the individual and family from both terrorist and major-power (say, Chinese) threats, and not coincidentally the defense of our economic power base. Thus, it makes sense from both a personal and societal standpoint.
Move to the country. Telecommute. You'll be glad you did, and so will Uncle Sam.
Comments
Beer
I learned reading The Independent today that Corona has failed in its attempt to do something really dumb:
Eurocermex, European distributors of the market-leading Mexican Corona, has lost in its bid to trademark a physical object: a clear bottle containing yellow liquid (no sniggering please) with a wedge of lime in the bottleneck. This has long been the cool way of serving Corona, possibly because the lime gives flavour to what would otherwise lack it almost entirely, and...Apparently, they applied to the EU to make it a legal violation to serve another beer in this fashion. Exactly why it would should be illegal for a bar to serve a beer to a customer in the fashion the customer ordered was not clear enough even for the EU, which surely must be the easiest of all audiences for this sort of claim.
Beer, like wives and sunshine, is one of the great parts of life, something we appreciate and yet don't think about that much. (Also like wives and sunshine, beer is a wonderful thing of which one can nevertheless have too much; though indeed, to round out the similie, in spite of that one will always eventually be wanting more of them again.)
In this very early Grim's Hall post, I quoted a well-remembered passage from an old Robin Hood story, in which the famous outlaws have a picnic involving bread and cheese and a skin of good March beer. That seems like a good way to spend a summer day, and as the weekend is upon us, I will recommend it to you. You probably can't get a good October or March beer at this time of year, but there are several that will do. I find that Red Stripe goes well with the heat, being a little sweeter than usual (Jamaica's other famous beer, Dragon Stout, is likewise far sweeter than stouts normally).
The times grow darker, we see in the news. Well, they were dark in Robin Hood's day as well. Like Robin Hood take your blade and whatever you prefer instead of a longbow, but have your picnic all the same. Down with Prince John, and al Qaeda, and all the rest of the lot of tyrants.
UPDATE: On rereading this note, which I dashed off quickly and without much consideration, I see that I wrote "Beer, like wives and sunshine, is one of the great parts of life, something we appreciate and yet don't think about that much." On reflection, I recognize that this may seem like a shocking or callous statement to some of my younger readers. I should like to say something in that regard.
Young love is a different thing than love when it matures. When you first fall in love, and especially when it is true love, your beloved occupies all of your thoughts.
Once you have been together for a while, however, the challenges of surviving in a hard world will eventually pull your focus away from one another. The challenges and difficulties of life can be demanding -- and none more so than childrearing, which can occupy every last moment that used to be "free."
In that place, the things you value most are the things you don't have to think about. The things you can rely upon, and to which you know you can trust your weight, are the things that count most of all. There is nothing to love better than the thing you can trust, and trust so much that you never have to think about the question.
So it is that the best of good wives may find herself in this category. A bad wife never will -- a man has to worry about one such as that all the time. Those of you who are young women aspiring to a successful marriage might give a thought to becoming that kind of wife.
It may not seem like much, compared to the castles in the air that arise in some of the love songs. It may seem, at first glance, to fade by comparison to the passions and furies of young love. Still, when people are making a life for each other -- and trying to build a life for their children -- there is a lot to be said for it. If you have to think about each other all the time, you will run right up on the rocks. If you need not spend your focus on that, however, you can not only take time to steer -- you can do so knowing that the rest of the ship is being kept in order by a faithful companion and partner.
"Beer and sunshine" isn't bad company to be in, when the play of childhood is behind you, and the labors of the world are your daily bread. In truth, there's little better company to be had in this mortal world.
Scotty
I haven't seen an episode of Star Trek in many years, but it used to run as late-night TV back when I was young enough to still watch late-night TV (i.e., before I had a job and a child, leaving me in the same camp as The Geek when it comes to "lost sleep"). So, after the umpteenth blog pointed to the obit for James Doohan, I finally gave in and went to take a look.
Did you?
At 19, James escaped the turmoil at home by joining the Canadian army, becoming a lieutenant in artillery. He was among the Canadian forces that landed on Juno Beach on D-Day. "The sea was rough," he recalled. "We were more afraid of drowning than the Germans."Rest in peace. Sir.
The Canadians crossed a minefield laid for tanks; the soldiers weren't heavy enough to detonate the bombs. At 11:30 that night, he was machine-gunned, taking six hits: one that took off his middle right finger (he managed to hide the missing finger on screen), four in his leg and one in the chest. The chest bullet was stopped by his silver cigarette case.
fnames
An aside inspired by "the Sheik Marine's" comments below. It happens that I also have a foreign name: a Chinese name, in fact. It was bestowed upon me by a farmer near Hangzhou from whom I often bought vegetables. Native speakers of Chinese have a lot of trouble with my English name, which contains a consonant formation (Br-) that is not found in Chinese. So, for ease of use, I adopted it and used it on all my documents in China.
The name was 大 鬍 鬚, which is written in pinyin Da Huxu and pronounced "DAH Hoo-shoo."
It translates into English as "Big Beard," which was quite right: at the time, distrusting (for very good reason) the quality of the local water, I drank only beer and disavowed shaving. As a consequence, I ended up with a fine forked beard that would have been the pride of a Viking warrior.
The name is interesting in two ways. The first is that, in Chinese, the family name is written first. Thus, on all my official Chinese documents, I'm identified as "Mr. Big."
The other thing that is interesting is that "HuXu" means "beard" only by historic accident. It began as the name of a tribe of barbarians in Western China, who wore beards. Most Han Chinese men -- "Han" being an ethnic grouping that includes better than ninety percent of China's subjects -- can't grow beards until they get quite old. As a result, the beard itself became identified with these wild barbarian tribes of the west.
As a consequence, the real translation of my Chinese name is, "Big Western Barbarian." I couldn't have made a better or more honest choice.
Sheikh Marine
Captain Leggett of Southern Appeal has posted some photographs of himself, attired in a tribal headdress that was given to him by grateful Iraqis at a wedding he attended. He says:
I should note that as soon as My Iraqi hosts saw me in the headdress they immediately began calling me "Sheik Marine," a title I was greeted with by almost every member of the tribe every time I was in the area. Unfortunately, the Marine Corps has not yet seen fit to recognize the authority of my tribal title.They really ought to recognize it. Lawrence of Arabia proved what could be accomplished by working with the tribal structure, and showing respect for and a willingness to participate in their native conceptions of honor. Well done, Joel. Well done.
UPDATE: In the comments, Joel reveals two more important details:
Y’all might find this humorous. Not only was I made a member of their tribe (Al Ghezzi) I was also given an Arabic name, Kazem Al Ghezzi.Humorous, no. Impressive, yes.
On another piece of his attire:
My father gave that knife to me when I was enlisted. It is a Randall model 14, in my humble opinion the finest fighting knife made.You are not alone in your opinion -- many knife enthusiasts love the Randall made knives. My own favorite is the Model 12 "Bear Bowie" design. Yet, as we were discussing on another occasion, the best knife for one fighter is not the best knife for another -- there is a lot of variation that comes from arm length, grip strength, height, and the like. The Model 14 is a very respectable choice.
Excalibur
My favorite article so far to arise from the disruptions in the Philippines is this one. It describes the events in terms of "a dagger in the heart," magic, a divided Church, the "war of spells" that shattered King Arthur's realm, and finishes with an allusion to the sword Excalibur.
It seems almost improper to mention that the 'Sword in the Stone' and Excalibur were two different swords. Nevertheless, they were: the first sword was a gift of God, as the legend has it, to name the rightful king; Excalibur was kept by the Lady of the Lake. Both types of swords have precedents and resonances in other legends -- for the Sword in the Stone, see for example the Sword of the Volsungs (which resonates also, and intentionally, with Aragorn's sword Anduril, or Narsil); for Excalibur, any number of legends about fairy blades kept by water spirits. This last is a perfectly reasonable legend, for many Celtic and Germanic cultures cast swords and other treasures into sacred lakes and rivers as sacrifices. The water maids who keep such sacred blades are a natural point of origin for our Lady who dwelt by, or in, or under, 'the Lake.'
All that said, it is a hopeful sign for the Philippines that they have these legends to draw upon, still so close to mind as to leap into a simple piece of political analysis. A commonly understood legend, underlying your view of the world and present in all or most minds, has been the foundation of many a society in hard times. In politics, if most of you can imagine the problem alike, you can probably imagine a solution. Not so in physics; but this is a political problem.
Dining
Via Arts & Letters Daily, I see that the UK Guardian has put together a list of the world's fifty best restaurants. Improbably, to say the least that might be said, fourteen of them are in England, including the world's best: The Fat Duck.
The list has earned some unreasonably bitter commentary from our German friends:
So again: Congratulations to our English friends! What they were unable to achieve in soccer, they've made up for in the kitchen. And this counterbalances the bankruptcy of their last automobile company. And the state of the London underground.You can read the list for yourself. I'm dismayed to say that, not only have I never eaten in a single one of these restaurants, I've never lived close to a single one of these cities. In point of fact, I've only even visited one of them -- New York -- and
Still, I do like good food, and so I would like to solicit from you, dear reader, two lists of your own. The first list is the finest restaurants you've patronized, and where they can be found -- as well as a bit about them, if you like. The second is your favorites, which needn't be "fine" cuisine at all. For myself, I've dined in a few fine establishments, but my very favorite place to eat is a hole in the wall Mexican joint in Chamblee, Georgia (which town is called by the locals "Chambodia" in honor of the many Vietnamese and Cambodian immigrants displaced by a certain regional conflict of the 1950s-70s).
In any event, here are my two lists. Unlike the Guardian, these are not in order of excellence, just "as they come to me."
Fine dining:
1) The Abbey, Atlanta, Georgia -- it self-consciously describes itself as "French Continental," but what I had were the lamb chops, which you could have gotten in one of those fine English restaurants (I imagine). It is notable for being located in an old church of magnificient decor, which is every bit as enjoyable as the food. And the food was very good indeed. I took my wife there once on our anniversary, and if any of you have the notion, it's worth a trip.
2) The Southern Inn Restaurant, Lexington, Virginia -- Lexington is called "the shrine of the South," being home to Stonewall Jackson's house and the tomb of Robert E. Lee and his faithful horse Traveller. It's home to the Virginia Military Institute, which with the Citadel in Charleston carries on the tradition of Southern military life. The Southern Inn is a fine place to eat downtown, with twists of mint soaking in the ready pitchers of icewater to refresh the throat. I suggest it heartily if you're ever in the area, which you may be -- there's a major interstate that runs right through Lexington.
3) Pizza Hut, Shanghai, China -- No, I'm not kidding. Pizza Hut is a luxury restaurant in China. The Shanghai location (there may be more than one) serves a clam chowder pie, as well as special salads, in addition to pepperoni pizza. Reservations are a wise idea, as they are a very popular restaurant with the upper class.
4) Sunday Restaurant, Hangzhou, China -- We ate there the day we bought the train tickets out of Hangzhou, en route to the airport at PuDong to carry us back to the good old United States. That was about six months after we'd arrived, most of it over a winter in which we were provided with no heat sources. We were in a celebratory mood on the occasion, and so went with a couple of Australians to eat everything we could find. It was a mighty feast, and one I remember kindly.
5) Asia Nora's, Washington, D.C. -- Not only good food, but fine Scotch, if you're so inclined. I don't actually like Asian food that much, to be honest (you might have guessed from my listing "Pizza Hut" as the finest restaurant in China) but I can't doubt the quality of what's on offer here. (An aside -- at a cafeteria once in China I was dining with one of my colleagues, a nice lady who was a Chinese national. She asked me what I thought of the food. "It's offal," I replied, having just identified the meat as stomach. "Awful!" she cried. "I thought it was good!")
6) Biddy Mulligan's, Washington, D.C. -- Too expensive to be considered a "favorite," but the food is of a high enough quality that I go there on occasion. The Irish mixed grill is the best thing on the board. I had it on my last birthday, courtesy of Sovay.
UPDATE: 7) Bilbo Baggins', Alexandria, Virginia. -- I had forgotten about it, but it's a very nice place down on the waterfront. The food is good, and the beer list is astonishing. Everyone's favorite hobbit would have approved.
Favorites:
1) El Taco Veloz, Chamblee, GA. -- Not much to be said about this place except that non-Spanish speakers would be advised to remember that "lengua" means "tongue." Don't miss the salsa verde or the chiles rellenos. Oddly enough, this restaurant is part of a chain, but all the others have a different name: Taco Prisa, which also means "Speedy Taco."
2) Kevin Barry's Irish Pub, Savannah, Georgia -- The best Irish Pub I've ever attended, and I attended it often in my Savannah days. MilBloggers will want to visit the Hall of Heroes (and cigar bar) on the second floor, which honors the US military; Irish sympathizers will want to visit Liberty Hall, which honors especially Kevin Barry but also all IRA veterans. This is not a pose; the owner is quite serious about it, and is a collector of historic weapons associated with Irish republicanism, including antique pikes from the 1798 rising. Yes, yes, I know, but check the calendar on their website, and go on a night that Harry is playing. You'll understand.
3) The Mellow Mushroom, throughout Georgia and points north (but not far enough north). -- The best pizza in Georgia, although a close second is Vinnie Van Go-Go's in Savannah. The Mushroom is better, though.
4) The Reggae Cafe (also, The Reggae Bar and The Reggae Pub), Hangzhou, China -- expensive enough to be "fine dining" by Chinese standards, but cheap enough for a Westerner to eat there often. The Szechuan pizza is great, and the reggae burger -- which is actually a sausage patty, served with a fried egg over hard on something resembling a bun -- is surprisingly good. For a year after I came back from China, I put a fried egg on my hamburgers. (I see from this list that it still exists, and not only that, but there is now an Irish pub in Hangzhou with Guinness on tap. If that had been there when I was there, I might have stayed another year or two, if we could have gotten the wife over that double pneumonia).
5) The Griffin Tavern, Flint Hill, Virginia. The pizza is the best pizza I've had since I left Georgia, no question. They have things as cheap as burgers, or as expensive and fancy as you like. It's the only restaurant around, so if you're off in this section of the woods, the Griffin is all there is -- but you couldn't do better in a major city, I'll take an oath on it. This is my favorite restaurant in Virginia, but it's a long trek from anywhere you're likely to be. Still...
6) Molly's Irish Pub, Warrenton, Virginia -- Hm, it may be that I'm detecting a theme in my recommendations. Have the Shepherd's Pie. Beowulf likes the ice cream.
7) The Childe Harold Pub, Washington, D.C. -- The Childe Harold restaurant is a fine dining place, to be avoided if you'll have my recommendation. The Childe Harold Pub is in the basement, and is an entirely different sort of place. Grab a table in the back of the Pub and have a Guard's Burger, or belly up to the bar at happy hour. If you like pasta, they have a kind of chicken pasta that Sovay always orders. It's very good, I can attest, having eaten more of the stuff than she has herself -- she eats like a bird, the girl. The Childe Harold takes its name from a poem by Lord Byron about a knight on pilgrimage.
Well, there you go. What have you got?
UPDATE: A couple more favorites from Atlanta, which I remembered later:
8) Savage Pizza, Atlanta, Georgia. -- A comic-book themed restaurant, but what great pizza.
9) La Fonda Latina, Atlanta, GA. -- The quesadillas are excellent, as is the fresh salsa. They make good sangria, too, as I recall.
OPSEC
Secrecy News has a link to another recently available government document, which comes from the Interagency OPSEC support staff. The Federation of American Scientists, which underwrites SN, has published a copy of it on their website.
The piece is the Intelligence Threat Handbook.
The notion is to provide a basic awareness of intelligence techniques used against America by major powers, especially Russia and China. The piece intends to help government agencies recognize and avoid what may be intelligence gathering missions by foreign powers.
I pass the link on to you because some of you work in sensitive areas (not only in the government!) and will benefit, and others of you will just be interested in this insight into Chinese intelligence. Have a look.
Infowar
The most interesting thing about this roundup post is the comments section. I don't say that to minimize the quality of the post, which draws attention to the political debacle in the Philippines. Nevertheless, the comments are fascinating:
1. Anonymous said...Of course we have all seen this coming. Political groups are aware of blogs, and so they have begun to assemble talking points for bloggers just as they do for letters-to-the-editor.
Just FYI, the so-called John Marzan you link to is a vehement pro-Estrada/Marcos loyalist who trolls various Filipino message boards with rabid anti-Arroyo propaganda. His weblog entries are, of course, always slanted towards the far-extreme anti-Arroyo side, even if it means linking to a newspaper owned by Estrada/Marcos loyalists (the Tribune) and defending the corruption and violence of previous administrations. Not the kind of person I'd trust my links to.
There are a few other local Filipino weblogs with a more balanced viewpoint of what's going on here: columnist Manuel Quezon III and The Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism.
Oh, and I work just a couple of blocks from there. It's an impressive rally, but there have been a couple of street fights outside my building. Not the best elements of society; I'm seeing banners carried by "Akbayan," a socialist group not unlike International ANSWER.
...
3. Anonymous said...
gateway, be careful of bloggers putting in comments. there is a propaganda campaign even in blogs being mounted by the palace to counter anti-arroyo blogs. so do not trust this comment.
This is something to watch for in all future contests of this sort, but there is one aspect to attend to:
1) Each side of the argument has as its main interest that the debate should be framed in its terms...
2) ...but both sides of any argument have as a common interest that the debate should be framed as an argument between them.
This is not, as wilder-eyed libertarians sometimes argue about the two-party system, a conspiracy between two similar parties to obscure their similarity in order to offer the illusion of a choice. It applies even in cases where the difference is real, and deep.
The reason is this: We must be told what to think, lest we decide for ourselves. That, at least, must be avoided at all costs. A political group knows what its opposition's arguments are, and how to counter them. But the mutations that may arise in free space are unpredictable. As 'knowing your enemy' is one of the classic rules of warfighting, it is a matter of pure practicality to make certain that everyone who cannot be won to your side is, at least, thinking the way your known enemy thinks.
For that cause, expect to see these sorts of comments spreading through the blogosphere. It profits them to carry on the fight at length in every place, even if they know they have lost the audience in that place, even if they know they have won it. The fight serves its own purpose: it focuses all thought into the known patterns.
We must be cautious to prevent our halls to become battlegrounds for information warfighting of this type. This sort of agenda-advancing is viral: it not only tends to overwhelm comments sections to prevent new ideas from forming, but it tends to infect many thinkers who lean to one side or the other. They, wishing to seem well informed and also to express an acceptable opinion, need but learn one of the two standing arguments and assert it at all points.
The only way to prevent ourselves from becoming tools of suppressing debate is to recognize these information warfare techniques, and stop them. This can chiefly be done by ignoring their protagonists, but may also require erasing comments in extreme cases. It is why Grim's Hall does not permit "fly-by" comments, anonymous or otherwise: this is a place for fighters, and fighters of the mind must be thinkers rather than mimics.
Crossbows
Whose idea was it to allow these military style weapons to be used in hunting? American unilateralism knows no bounds, it appears. Don't people know that these are internationally banned weapons?
In 1097, Pope Urban II outlawed the use of the crossbow. Four decades later, Pope Innocent II convened a Lateran Council with nearly 1,000 prelates. They forbade "under penalty of anathema" not just the use of crossbows, "the dastard's weapon," but the entire "deadly and God-detested art of slingers and archers." You could get a waiver if you were on a crusade, but that's a different conversation.Not only that, they have also been banned by some of our more forward looking states, such as Maine. Oddly, though, their reasons seem to be anti-noble, rather than anti-peasant:Of course, it wasn't just the Catholic Church. Conrad III, the Holy Roman Emperor... banned the use of the crossbow in his army and his realm.
The taboo carried over into modern times. In American Colonial days into the 19th century, crossbows were associated with European nobility and spurned, said Ottie Snyder, a cofounder of the American Crossbow Federation.Well, no matter. Maine just passed a law letting people use them again. And so did New Hampshire. And Pennsylvania, last year. Vermont (of course) already permitted them. Connecticut, Massachusetts and Rhode Island in New England have provisions allowing for their use, but only by citizens who are not capable of using traditional bows.In Maine, crossbows were banned for hunting in 1856, but have remained legal to own.
Given the sudden, practical attempt to enforce the long-theoretical "states-rights" interpretation of the Second Amendment among another of the solid Blue states, it will be interesting to see where this goes. Might we soon have Blue State militias, armed primarily with crossbows? There is something to be said for the concept, surely.
Hat tip NRA-ILA.
Matt Furey
You all probably have seen Matt Furey's ads. He sells a product called "Combat Conditioning," along with another product called "Combat Abs," and several similar things. He advertises on a number of blogs -- I know I've seen his ads on BlackFive, for example.
I have a message today that says he's in a Chinese hospital -- which is a better option on average than an African hospital, but not by much. I wouldn't check myself into one unless I was sure I was going to die otherwise, and had nothing to lose, but here we are:
Although I'm known throughout the world for being strong, right now I feelincredibly weak. The strongest body can be brought down quickly with a morsel of bad food. Right now I'm in the hospital in Xiang getting an I.V. and hope to regain my strength and health very soon.I'm on the fellow's list because I own several of his products. The Matt Furey program for getting fit and maintaining strength is the best one I've ever encountered. It compares very favorably to the USMC "Daily 16", for example. Many of the insights are the same, but the Furey program incorporates the yoga exercises taught to traditional Indian wrestlers (although, so far, I've never seen the word "yoga" anywhere in any of Matt's stuff -- I'm sure he'd prefer not to have it associated with his products because of its granola connotations). Some of these (particularly the back or "wrestler's" bridge, the gymnastic bridge, and the handstands) are tremendously powerful ways to improve your strength -- and they nicely complement the calesthenics of his program by providing isometric exercise as well. Programs like the Daily 16, which also focus on calesthenics but lack the yoga, don't work as well in my experience.Regardless of your religious or spiritual beliefs if you can take a moment tooffer a prayer on my behalf I would be most thankful. I sure need it right now.
Hope to back with you very soon.
I mention all this because his advertising gives the calculated impression that he's an arrogant jerk. It's a marketing device to get attention for his product, but I suspect it will cause a number of people to sneer or laugh when they hear of his misfortune. That is not proper -- he really is teaching the truth, and I have myself recommended the program to several people, especially military men who need to develop functional muscle but can't afford the bulk associated with freeweight training due to the military's (and particularly the Marines') absurd height/weight calculations. These are always based on the BMI ("Body Mass Index"), which is intended for small to medium framed people who aren't especially athletic. Big, strong men who work out will always be right at the top of the weight, if they can make weight at all. The Furey program, because it produces functional but not bulky muscle, can be a partial fix for Marines and soldiers trying to work around that.
Anyway, here's to Matt. I hope he gets well soon, the poor SOB. Bad Chinese food, and even the best Chinese hospital, isn't a fate I'd wish on anyone.
Grim's Hall
It seems I may owe something by way of apology to those city neighbors I mentioned in a recent post. I take it back: from now on, I only want bears for neighbors at all. No people, city or country, thanks aye.
The other night I was laying in bed, when off to the southwest I heard the report of a pistol. It sounded like a mid-range caliber, something in the weight of a 9mm or .40 Short & Weak. After a few seconds, there was a second shot, and then a third following two seconds after the second. Then, there were three shots in rapid succession; a pause, and then seven shots more, also rapid-fire.
There was quiet for a bit, and then two more shots.
"Fifteen," I murmured to my wife before rolling over and going back to sleep. "Try to remember, in case anyone asks."
Well, I didn't think too much about it, because as a kid I often heard guys out target-shooting, even at night, down in the Georgia woods. If you work all day, when else are you going to go shoot? And if it's on your property, and you take the right kind of safety precautions, it's legal and fine.
Things are a little different in Virginia. My wife was off visiting the neighbors today -- a chili dog luncheon, some of the local mothers got up for the kids who live around here. She came back with quite a few good stories to tell.
JHD will appreciate this.
Apparently it all started a few weeks ago when one of the boys up the valley started letting his pitbull out to wander. The thing was not all that nice, and it set after the neighbors' cats. Now, most of the houses around here are not within sight of each other, but these two happen to be. So they're "close" neighbors.
Well, the dog ate the cat, and the man was absolutely outraged to find his feline half-devoured the next day. So he told his neighbor that he'd best get that dog tied up, or else. Needless to say, the neighbor did no such thing.
So, the guy shot the dog. It had eaten his cat, after all, and his neighbor refused to restrain it. If it was dangerous to more than just cats, that was probably justified -- although it wouldn't have been a bad idea to call animal control instead. That was in the afternoon.
The story gets a little fuzzy on the details at this point, but by midnight or so, the two neighbors were both, independently, roaring drunk. The fellow with the cat was drunk on liquor, but the fellow with the dog was drunk on real old fashioned moonshine. Turns out there's supposed to be a still around here somewhere.
I gather but am not certain that Captain Moonshine is the one who decided to take a shot at his neighbor. They had been yelling at each other -- the poor wife of the cat-lover reports that her husband was "frothing at the mouth, he was so drunk" -- and then there was the first shot. Our cat lover went for his gun, which he had close to hand as he'd been expecting his neighbor to take exception on behalf of his dog, and shot back. There was one more careful shot, and then they opened up. The poor wife, trying to restrain her husband, was now squashed between the door and the wall as the brutal but cat-loving man attempted to keep her out of his way, while still returning the fire.
They shot until they ran flat out of ammo, and the only casualty was the fish tank in one of the houses -- both of them were so drunk that they couldn't hit each other, or anything near to each other. When they ran out of bullets the real fight began: they cast down their guns and went at it hand to hand, beating each other until the deputies arrived.
It would have been a kindness, all things considered, if they'd just started with that and saved gunfighting for serious-minded folks. These things are not toys. No word yet on whether the arrested are named "Hatfield" or "McCoy."
I'll be interested to see how the county handles the case. My hope, of course, is that these irresponsible idiots get the book thrown at them. I hate to see a free man sent to jail, like I hate to see a healthy man become weak and sick; but I'm willing to make an exception in this case. I'll keep you posted.
MSN Money - Associated Press Business News: Asian Travel Offers British Support
That is the advice of the head of the Pacific Asia Travel Association, Peter de Jong. His statement on topic shows that nobility of spirit can be found in travel agents as well as anywhere else:
After the tsunami, PATA urged tourists to visit tsunami-affected areas as part of the recovery process. Today we ask tourists who intended to visit the U.K. to continue with their visit. The resolve and unity of civilized people will prevail.Well said.
The Fourth Rail
It's a natural question, given that the IRA has more experience than anyone in carrying out terror attacks in London. There is no evidence to suggest that they were involved in the execution of the attack -- but there is some reason to think they might have provided intelligence and planning information, as I note today over at the Fourth Rail.
'Reason to think they might have,' I wish to make clear, is a long way from 'proof that they did.' But it is a question that our intelligence services ought to be asking -- and one we ought to be asking, too.
Publius Pundit - Blogging the democratic revolution
I also remember what Pejman remembers about the Coldstream Guards, but also one thing more: that, at the memorial service held at St. Paul's Cathedral, Queen Elizabeth had them play The Star Spangled Banner as a hymn, and sang the words from memory.
English Queens do not sing national anthems, not as a rule. And this was one written about a war in which her own country was 'the other side.' No matter.
My compliments, for what they are worth, to the British for their upstanding behavior in the face of yesterday's attacks. We will know more such days in the future, and would do well to learn how to meet them. The lady who served tea, like the Queen, is a model for us all.
Yahoo! Mail - The best web-based email!
A squid of my association sends. I don't know if civilians are welcome, but if you are close by one of these locations and wanted to go hoist a sign or simply wave a flag on the entrance routes, I'm sure you'd be appreciated by any family heading that way.
It is with great sorrow, that the Naval Special Warfare Foundation and the UDT-SEAL Association announce the memorial services for ten Navy SEALs killed in Afghanistan. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of these men during this very difficult time.It's hard to measure the weight of losing such men. They cannot be replaced from the general run of mankind, not with all the training in the world. They are special, indeed.
In Virginia, the memorial service will be held at 1000, Friday, July 8, 2005, in the NAB, Little Creek Base Theater for the five members of SEAL Team TEN and the one member of SDV Team TWO who died in Afghanistan. The uniform for active duty Navy is Service Dress Blue.
The five SEALs from SEAL Team TEN are:
· Chief Petty Officer Jacques J. Fontan, 36, Class 219, of New Orleans, Louisiana. Jacques is survived by his wife, Charissa.
· LCDR Erik S. Kristensen, 33, Class 233, of San Diego, California. Erik is survived by his parents RADM Edward Kristensen and Suzanne “Sam” Kristensen.
· Petty Officer 1st Class Jeffery A. Lucas, 33, Class 191, of Corbett, Oregon. Jeff is survived by his wife of 12 years, Rhonda, and their 4-year-old son, Seth.
· LT Michael M. McGreevy, Jr., 30, Class 230, of Portville, New York. Mike is survived by his wife, Laura, and their 1-year-old daughter, Molly.
· Petty Officer 1st Class Jeffrey S. Taylor, 30, Class 229, of Midway, West Virginia. Jeff is survived by his wife, Erin.
The SEAL from SDV Team TWO is:
· Petty Office 2nd Class Danny P. Dietz, 25, Class 232, of Littleton, Colorado. Dan is survived by his wife, Marie.
In Hawaii, the memorial service will be held at 1000, Monday, July 11, 2005, at the Punchbowel National Cemetery in Honolulu for the four members of SDV Team ONE who also perished in Afghanistan. The uniform for active duty Navy is Summer White.
The four SEALs lost from SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team ONE are:
· Senior Chief Petty Officer Daniel R. Healy, 36, Class 176, of Exeter, New Hampshire. Dan is survived by his wife, Normida, four children from his former wives, and three stepchildren.
· LT Michael P. Murphy, 29, Class 236, of Medford, New York. Mike is survived by his parents Dan and Maureen Murphy.
· Petty Officer 2nd Class Eric S. Patton, 22, Class 239, of Boulder City, Nevada. Eric is survived by his Navy SEAL father James Patton, Class 94.
· Petty Officer 2nd Class James Suh, 28, Class 237, of Deerfield Beach, Florida. James is survived his father Solomon Suh.
Those desiring to make donations and/or interested in helping the families of these men, may contact the Naval Special Warfare Foundation, at (757) 363-7490, info@nswfoundation.org, or by writing to Naval Special Warfare Foundation, P.O. Box 5965, Virginia Beach, Virginia 23471. The NSW Foundation has information on programs which can assist the families with their current and future needs. Any assistance you can provide is sincerely appreciated.
If you desire to send condolences to any of the families, you may address your envelopes to the surviving spouse or parents C/o the Naval Special Warfare Foundation, and we will forward to the families.
Xinhua - English
Looks like the PRC will be using military contractors heavily in its attempt to modernize its military structure. A lot of this is being driven by Chinese studies of the Iraq war and how the US military fights. It's interesting to see what lessons they are drawing from our experiences.
They've apparently decided that logistics in particular can be farmed out to contractors. Now, that's an interesting decision. I understand the reasoning, but it will be interesting to see how it stands up if China finds itself engaged in a real fight at some point. One of the groups you definitely want to have subject to military discipline, I would think, is the group providing for the logistical needs of your fighters.
Of course, in China, the justice system works somewhat differently than ours (to say the least that might be said!). So it could be that this will be less of a problem under their system than ours.
Grim's Hall
I had a close encounter with a black bear today -- first one I've had in a couple of years. Apparently there's one in the area that travels across the property regularly. I'd seen scat, but today I crossed paths with the young fellow in person.
I was on the way back from the swimming lake, with the boy. We were passing a raspberry patch when I heard a large animal move suddenly, crouching among the thorn vines. This would have been maybe ten, fifteen feet away, right off the road. I wasn't sure if it was a bear or a deer at first -- we had seen a doe on the way down -- but because of the berries, I figured we ought to assume a bear. And a bear hitting the ground is a warning sign, which can preceed an attack.
Black bear are not terribly dangerous, and unlikely to charge a full grown man who is obviously aware of them and not afraid. Since we are in Virginia, I take no more precaution of them than to carry a knife in case one of them decides to test the proposition -- but I've encountered many bears in my time, and I really don't expect any trouble from ursus americanus. The big bruins of that species are shy in spite of their size, and a yearling bear such as we have around here -- I knew his relative size from the scat I'd seen -- is even less likely to come after you. You have to be prepared for them, but they are reasonably good neighbors as wild animals go. The deer cause more trouble, eating the wife's flowers.
I've even been between a mother and her cub, once, with some dogs who decided to chase the cub for sport. The mother was alarmed, but once she realized that I was defending the cub rather than aiding the dogs, she stopped and waited until her cub was safe, and then they fled together.
Thus is the black bear. They're not friendly, but they're not hateful either. If we were in grizzly country, things would be different: instead of crouching down to hide, a grizzly would be just as likely to kill you out of hand. If I were expecting that kind of company, I'd be taking Jimbo's advice on a swimming companion -- something in a .30-06 would make a good walking stick.
On the other hand, I'd obviously startled the fellow, to judge from his reaction. So, it was time to move along.
I took the boy and we moved around the patch and back up towards the house, which is atop a small ridge. I met the wife coming down the hill, pistol strapped to her hip. She'd seen the bear heading our way, and decided to come check on us.
Beowulf was not at all frightened. It's not his first bear either, nor even his second. When he was a very little boy indeed, and we lived on Burnt Mountain in Georgia, we had a three hundred pounder who would come and look into the windows from outside the house. He never caused any trouble at all, just curious. We kept food and garbage properly stored, and someone was almost always about, so he did not attempt any scavenging. Beowulf knew his face at the window, and was not troubled even then.
Another time, a little cub broke into our screened in porch. He was also just curious -- there was nothing there to interest him, so he passed on his way directly, but not before looking through the glass.
In any event, it's pleasant to be back in bear country. I realize that it's an odd thing to say, since these are large wild animals who might -- long odds though it is -- attack one of us, particularly the child. But the child is always with either me or his mother, and the bears have never been bad company. I leave him the raspberries, and he leaves us alone. I'd rather have him for a neighbor than many a neighbor I've had in those years we've lived in cities, I can tell you.
It is important to keep proper food discipline, though, which can interfere with gardening: black bears will eat many garden fruits and vegetables, as well as fruit from trees. It's important that they not learn to look for human agricultural products as food sources. The raspberry bush is natural and appropriate; the pear tree you planted near the house is not.
Well, I've been thinking about getting a dog anyway. It wouldn't hurt to provide something to keep the bear from getting too close -- for the bear's sake, since not all people will tolerate it, and the next family may shoot it if it gets close to their house or their regular walking paths. Even if you like the things, and I do myself, you have to consider how the next guy is going to react to a bear that is just a little too used to being around people.
Scotsman.com News - News Archive - Revolutionary principles stand the test of time
Thanks to Southern Appeal for this editorial from The Scotsman:
[I]t is also important to say, this 4 July , that one need not have ever visited the US to feel in tune with what it means to be an American. It is an empire of the mind (and the imagination) as much as it is a military and economic superpower. The principles of the American Revolution remain sound. The World Trade Centre no longer stands, but the language of the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights does.Scotland was the birthplace of much of the thoughts enshrined in the American way. It has been too long since I have read one of her native sons celebrating those thoughts so openly. Good show, and well said.
No other country has embedded the "pursuit of happiness" - the great goal of mankind - in the foundations of the state; nowhere else is the idea of liberty so revered. There is such a thing as an American sensibility and it can be felt from the Baltic to the Pacific.
Could the United States be doing better? Wrong question. If not America, then who? No-one, that's who. At its best, America and American ideals remain, in Lincoln's famous words, "the last, best hope of mankind". The United States still believes in a place called hope. As it celebrates its 229th birthday today, we should too.
Bladework:KABAR
I was back down at the swimming lake today, and spent quite a while in the water. This provides me with an opportunity to do a little product-comparison for those of you who are choosing a fighting knife.
I mentioned that the last trip involved a KABAR USMC Knife, designed for WWII Marines. We're several days from the swim now, and I can report the following: there is some mild discoloration along the steel edge, and on the butt of the knife where the baked protective layer has chipped due to more than a decade of being used as a hammer in field circumstances (such as, "I don't feel like looking for a hammer. Hand me the KABAR").
It's nothing serious -- it'll clear off with a few strokes on an oiled whetstone. The knife requires minimal maintenance, and it's good to go. The leather sheath took more than a full day to dry, however.
I also own a "Next Generation" KABAR, with serrations, and it was that knife I took swimming with me today. Now, I'm the guy who prefers lever-action rifles and revolvers to anything semiautomatic. The old USMC KABAR is a thing of beauty, and the NextGen one is not. It's all too new, too black, not enough leather.
All that said -- if you're looking for a knife to swim with, it really is a lot better.
The steel blade lacks a baked protective layer, but is instead blasted with glass beads until its outer shell is so smooth as to be essentially immune to water. The result is a knife that is substantially more waterproof than traditional stainless steel, with the good qualities you usually only get with carbon steel. It will not rust, if you take even minimal care of it, but it is not as fragile as regular stainless steel, and it holds an edge better than any other "stainless" blade I've had.
The leather sheath is made from a different grade of leather, and dried quite quickly.
There is a straight edge variant, if you'd prefer that. I would have myself, in fact, but it was not available when I bought the thing -- which, I'm embarrassed to mention, was the very day it came out.
Ahem. Anyway, there you are. If you want a "big knife" of the "Military Fighting/Utility" variation, and you plan to take it in the water, the NextGen KABAR has my recommendation. It's not quite as good a fighting knife as a Bowie style, but the straight blade has a lot of good qualities, and I am certainly proud to carry one myself when I'm planning on getting wet.
Grim's Hall
Patient readers have endured my griping about the perils of the recent move -- especially the @#$@ wasps, which stung me up again yesterday. Nevertheless, now that I've managed to get the secure satellite connection working, there are some advantages to living out here.
On Sunday, I took my little boy swimming for the first time. He is three. There is a lake near here, fed by one of the streams that eventually reach confluence with the Rappahannock river.
We followed the stream up a cataract of stones from the base, climbing over the stones until we reached the spillway at the top. The lake was spread out before us. Beowulf wanted to go on, but of course he does not know how to swim like his namesake:
Swimming was a popular sport, both to compete in and to watch, and it seems according to texts that it was considered quite fair to try and drown your opponent. Some of the heroes in the sagas are even said to have competed in swimming competitions whilst wearing their armour. (This is possible. We have tried it with the tunic, trousers and shoes, as well as wearing a mail shirt. The effect is to place your body in a more legs down position in the water. This makes for tiresome swimming, and we found that the Breast stroke was the only really viable way to swim.)I put the boy up on my shoulders, and walked right out into the lake. It was rather like swimming in a mailshirt -- add fifty pounds to your shoulders -- but it was possible. I swam to the dock about a hundred yards away. I hadn't planned on going out into the water, so I wasn't dressed for it -- when we came out, my clothes were dripping wet and so was my knife. Still, I had chosen the WWII-model Kabar for the hike: if it was good enough for Iwo Jima, it certainly won't be hurt by a passage through a Virginia lake.
Beowulf loved it. He immediately ran back to the bottom of the cataract, wanting to go again. So, we went again: the climb up, and the swim across. After that, I made him sit on the dock and watch me swim alone. I can tell from the interest and joy he shows in it that he is going to be a powerful swimmer in his day.
This morning, while working on the lawn mower, I heard a thrashing of limbs off to my right. I turned my head, and saw that a young stag was walking out of the bushes, not twenty yards away. He looked at me in the most astonished fashion -- four points, still covered in velvet -- and I spoke to him. He did not run, but after a moment, dipped his head down and up again quickly to see how I would react to the threat. I told him not to worry, that I was not hunting at the moment, and indeed he did not seem to worry at all. He passed on his way without fear, so far as I could tell.
There remains a lot to be done, and the @#$@# wasps really must go. Still, it's a nice place to be, for as long as we get to be here. Of course, contracts being what they are, in six months or a year we'll have to move again.
Cotillion
I think that all of you gentlemen would enjoy a visit to today's Independence Day celebration at the Cotillion*, the webring for conservative women bloggers. It's a salute to the MilBlogs, which is kind of them; but you may find other things to enjoy as well.
*(If you're like me, and you wondered just what a "cotillion" might be, it turns out it's another word for a debutante ball.)
The Daily Blogster
The Daily Blogster has a fine post [UPDATE: Or not so fine; see Eric's comments] today on the fates of the signatories of the Declaration of Independence. I would like to speak to one part of it: it is sadly incomplete in its account of the fate of Button Gwinnett.
The first part of the tale is told well by the Florida National Guard. You must understand, however, that Florida was on the other side in the Revolution -- and the ancestors of the Florida National Guard were fierce loyalists.
Now it was the turn of the Rebels to invade Florida. Lachlan McIntosh and Button Gwinnett (the latter a signatory of the American Declaration of Independence) organized an invasion force of several thousand soldiers and in the spring of 1777 set out for Florida. Browne’s Rangers and Indians worried about the flanks of the invading army while ships and boats of the Royal Navy denied them use of coastal waterways and rivers. Most of the invading army, once crossed into Florida, spent its time ravaging frontier homesteads and settlements. One portion of the Rebel army was dispatched to loot the British settlements on Amelia Island. Another detachment, 109 Georgia militiamen under Colonel John Baker, while waiting for the main army to catch up, advanced against what it thought to be a small band of disorganized East Florida Rangers. In fact, this was a "Judas Goat" detachment which lured the Rebels into an ambush. Three columns of 100 men each, containing British Regulars, Rangers, and Indians, converged on Baker’s small force. The Rebels were soundly defeated.Button Gwinnett was the son of a minister who had chosen to make his way in politics instead of religion. A charming fellow, so we are told, he was a successful figure in early Revolutionary politics, which is why he was sent by Georgia's legislature to sign the Declaration of Independence.
Lachlan McIntosh was a relative of John Mohr (gael. "the Great") McIntosh, a hero of an earlier Jacobite uprising. John McIntosh was brought to Georgia by the founder of the colony, Sir James Edward Oglethorpe, a soldier, engineer, and philanthropist whose main design for the colony had been to provide a second chance for 'the worthy poor,' providing them with land and hope instead of the threat of debt prisons. Oglethorpe also had a kind spot in his heart for the Scots, who had fought valiantly for their ancestral king and were now being run off the land. He offered a place to the McIntosh clan, on the Altamaha river where they could serve as a buffer between Savannah and the Spanish settlements in Florida. Oglethorpe and John McIntosh, with their Coastal Rangers, fought and won the famous battle of Bloody Marsh, which defeated Spanish attempts to move against the British colonies from the south. They also established the Highland Mountain Rangers, which continues to exist today as part of the Georgia National Guard.
("Highland Mountain" sounds redundant to American ears, but it is proper in the British military system of the day. "Highland" denoted a force made up primarily of Scottish Highlanders; "Mountain," a force trained or intended primarily for mountain fighting. "Rangers" were a force of mounted infantry assigned to patrol a wilderness or frontier.)
Lachlan McIntosh came from this militant, "Scottish-American" tradition. His family had been brought to America to fight for Georgia, and he fought for her. On the other hand, his family had come to Georgia first because they'd fought against the German fellow occupying the British throne, and when the chance came to do so again, the McIntoshes were only too happy to become revolutionaries. Lachlan later served with George Washington at Valley Forge, and was so treasued by Washington in those difficult days that Washington personally saw to his promotion and, after Valley Forge, gave over command of an important part of the Western frontier to McIntosh. The mission was to open the Ohio river valley by negotiating from the local indians the right to open a string of forts. This mission was also a success, and it paved the way for the great expansion West that came after the Revolution.
Both he and Gwinnett were proud men, and their cooperation on the Florida invasion was sorely tested by the fact that each wished to be in charge. McIntosh was an officer of the Continental forces, but Gwinnett won overall control through his political popularity. Then, when the mission turned into a disaster, sought to blame McIntosh for the failure. McIntosh in turn detested Gwinnett's use of political charm instead of merit, and was sorely offended when he found himself being given the blame for failure when he had been denied the command. In truth, both men were to blame: Gwinnett most of all, for putting himself forward to command when he had no military experience, and McIntosh, for refusing to cooperate with him or even to bring his officers to attend Gwinnett's councils of war. It was this combined failure of leadership that led to the disaster in Florida.
The last part of the debacle came when McIntosh decided to move his forces deeper into Florida to strike at enemy bases, and Gwinnett refused to come. So, McIntosh took just the official Continental Army forces, leaving the Georgia militia under Gwinnett's command. But Gwinnett refused to turn over any of the supplies to which McIntosh's forces were entitled, meaning that the expedition had no food and little ammunition. Unable to carry on with no logistical support, McIntosh returned to Savannah with a heart full of wrath.
On the floor of the Georgia legislature, he testified as to what had happened, and called Button Gwinnett "a Scoundrel and a Lying Rascal."
Two weeks later, Gwinnett challenged McIntosh to a duel. They exchanged fire on the morning of 16 May 1777, not even a year after Gwinnett's signature was applied to the Declaration of Independence. McIntosh took a wound in the leg, and Gwinnett was also hit. Both men fell, but McIntosh got back up and offered to exchange another shot. Gwinnett could not rise: his hip was shattered by the bullet, and he died of his wound three days later.
As mentioned, McIntosh was later sent to serve with George Washington, in part because his shooting of a popular politician made it hard for him to remain effective in Georgia. After his success in the West, he returned to fight in the second battle of Savannah, at which he was wounded and captured by the British. He survived his captivity, however, and after the war was made the master of the port of Savannah. He and Washington met once again when Washington came to tour Savannah in 1791. The President brought new cannons as a gift to reinforce the port's defenses, and these "Washington Guns" are still on display on Bay Street, just by the Savannah government house.
VBIED
Our friends at Blackwater Security have produced a paper on the subject, focusing on VBIED tech and the possibility for the deployment of such things in America. There is a handy-dandy guide from the ATF on how far you need to evacuate from a suspected VBIED, depending on the size of the vehicle. (I'm told the graphic is unclassified and free for public dissemination. Who knew the ATF did anything useful?)
Sharp Knife
I was sure that if I went by Sharp Knife this weekend, Noel would have a fine feast of Revolutionary lessons for us. He did not disappoint.
Post after post points to articles on the history of the Revolution, the culture of the 1770s, the facts of the life of King George III, and many other interesting items as well.
If I were in the business of issuing titles, I would have to award Noel some fitting title in recognition of his excellence at bringing the Revolutionary era to speak to us in our own. If this Independence Day moves you to reflect upon those days, as it should, take some time to read through the selection that Sharp Knife has to offer.
The Gun Line: Aghhh! You Got Me!
There are certain things which roll downhill, and this is one. Sgt. B. tagged Doc, who tagged me. As always, I'll forgo the pleasure of foisting this off on someone else, but I'll answer the questions. I'm always surprised that anyone cares enough to ask, but obviously some of you do, since I keep getting asked to do these things. Well enough.
What I was doing 10 years ago: Let's see, 1995 -- I suppose I was in college then, working my way through with the Southeastern Detective Agency.
Five years ago: I would have been getting ready to go to China with my wife, and finishing up the classwork in my Master's.
One year ago: Same thing I'm doing now: contract work for DOD.
Yesterday: Mostly just work.
5 snacks I enjoy:
1. Chips and salsa.
2. Full fledged nachos with chili, fresh peppers, and sour cream.
3. Beer (hey, Doc listed Vodka!)
4. Pizza.
5. Mozzerella sticks with pasta sauce.
5 songs I know the words to:
1. "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me."
2. "The Old Orange Flute."
3. "Kelly, the Boy from Killane."
4. "Streets of Laredo."
5. "The Marine Corps Hymn."
5 Things I would do with $100 million:
1. Buy very many acres of bottomland out by the Rocky Mountains.
2. Build a fine house on it.
3. Set aside some money for more houses for my childrens' families.
4. Fence it.
5. Buy a large herd of good cattle and a small number of first-class bucking bulls to breed, and go into the cattle business.
5 Locations I would like to vacation:
1. York, England -- there's an old Viking city there.
2. Scotland.
3. The great parks of the West: Yosemite, perhaps.
4. Tombstone, Arizona, during the Western festival.
5. The Winter Range single-action shooting festival.
5 Bad Habits I have:
1. I've been known to drink more beer than is wise on occasion.
2. I've been known to play practical jokes on poor Sovay.
3. Teaching the 2 year old to swordfight was not as wise as it seemed at first. Now he's 3, and has much more strength for swinging things...
4. Impatience with people, especially when...
5. I've forgotten to eat for a day or more because I've been lost in thought.
5 things I like doing:
1. Shooting
2. Tickling the boy.
3. Tickling his mother.
4. Giving Sovay a hard time.
5. Spending an evening, just every now and then, drinking and singing old songs at the pub with friends.
5 things I would never wear:
1. Doc's got good advice here. I'll just assert that everything on his list goes for me, too.
5 TV Shows I like:
1. Firefly -- which isn't on TV anymore, but it was once.
2. I also used to like Babylon 5, but I had the good fortune to encounter it during the first season and watch it develop.
3. I haven't had access to television in a while, but I used to watch the Professional Bull Riders' rodeos on OLN a couple of years back.
4. We're really running out here... when I was a kid, I liked the Lone Ranger.
5. And the dodgy Buck Rogers show from the late 70s.
5 Biggest Joys of the Moment:
1. The boy.
2. His mother.
3. A certain fighting knife which his mother snuck and bought me off Ebay for our anniversary.
4. My extended family.
5. Strength.
5 Favorite toys:
1. I'm not sure I have five toys. I do have an Xbox from a year or so ago.
2. I have some good books, which I even sometimes have time to read.
3. Doc lists a firearm as a toy, but you'll forgive me if I dissent: guns are not toys, even when you enjoy the practice of keeping up the art. Still, if I were to list one, the one I enjoy shooting the most is my Smith & Wesson M629-4, using .44 Special ammo. It's still fun with .44 Magnum ammo, but the Special cowboy loads Winchester makes are just a lot of fun.
4. The boy's little expandable lightsabers -- yeah, I know, it was a mistake to teach him to swordfight. But still, it's fun.
5. Hiking boots. I get a lot of pleasure out of where you can go in them.
5 next victims:
I don't intend to tap anyone else. However, if you're feeling expansive, I'd love to hear what my readers have to say. If you'd like to jump in and tell me some of your favorite things, or bad habits, or whatever -- feel free. That's what the comments are for.
I really ought to make Lizard Queen do this, though, since she hit me with that book thing. But I'm a nice guy, really.
The Belmont Club
Thus he himself names it, but this analysis at The Belmont Club is as good as anything I've seen or thought about the missing recon forces. There's something big going on in the area, and we've had a run of bad luck.
"Bad luck" is an element of Clausewitzian "friction," one that can never be eliminated from the battlefield. However, it can be managed in some ways, chiefly, training and force selection. As demonstrated by the loss of Navy SEALs, however, training can't remove the problem -- just reduce its scale.
Wretchard's advice on roulette is a simplified version of the advice given to me by a former professional roulette player I knew in China.
He was an Australian national, and had since given up the high-stakes game for the more certain payoff of playing the Australian social welfare system: the fellow had managed to take advantage of the very problems of psychology we were just discussing in order to con the Aussie gov't into believing that he was unemployable through reason of insanity, and thus they provided him with a nice pension for the rest of his days. It would have been only modest in Australia, but by moving to China, he was able to live quite well on the same sum.
The principle he was advocating -- and I pass it on to you, not so much in case you should play roulette, as because it is a useful concept in many areas of life -- was to increase your bet in the face of any loss so that when you did finally win, you would be ahead. This means, in effect, not "doubling up," but tripling up.
In other words, say you are betting on red. You lose a dollar. The next round, you bet on red again, but you now bet three dollars: one to replace the one you just lost, one to cover the bet you are now making, and one "for yourself." If you win, you are now not even, but up. If you lose, you increase your bet again: this time, you bet twelve: four to replace what you've lost (1 + 3 on two rounds), four to cover the bet you are making now, and four "for yourself." &c.
Eventually, the odds are that you will win. When you do win, you're ahead for the whole game. Then you start back over at one dollar, and continue to bet one dollar each time until you lose, at which point you start back up the ladder. (Of course, instead of "one dollar" you can bet any amount -- one hundred or one thousand dollars, if you have the money.)
This, he explained, was the real function of table limits -- to close off the ladder at the top end, so that the house retained the advantage. Even that can be overcome, he said, through the (illegal, in most casinos) use of a cartel: a set of fellows who are each ready to step in and throw the maximum amount of money on the bet when it reaches the top of the ladder.
This had worked well for him in his younger days, but was far more labor intensive than the simple collection of cheques (as it is written in British English). Still, the principle is solid enough for occasions, like war, when gambling is inevitable.
GOA Alert-- June 28, 2005
"Anti-gang" legislation shouldn't leave families facing ten years in Federal prison. I suspect a jury would refuse to convict on these terms, but juries are always something of a crap shoot. This is one bill we ought to defeat before it gets out of the Senate.
Winds of Change.NET: Why does Brian Leiter Want to Kill Poor People?
The Armed Liberal over at Winds Of Change takes on "progressive" rudeness. It is done in response to this post celebrating harsh rudeness as, I gather, an effective means to persuade people. Mr. Leiter argues that one should slap down points of view that are -- well, he would say that they are uninformed and not worth taking seriously. By controlling what game is welcome on the playing field, then, you can have only arguments that support your basic worldview: you can argue about the proper expression of liberalism, but not about whether liberalism has the right answers to the underlying questions (or whether conservatism does, since either side can attempt this technique).
The only rules for discourse at Grim's Hall are that you must be kind to your neighbors, though you are free to disassemble their ideas if you can; and you must be willing to stand and fight for what you assert, rather than being hit-and-run spammers who won't engage with the other readers. I think that system works very well. I don't know how many of you have had your minds changed here about many things -- but I suspect that the influence of a polite debate among free men and women is stronger than Mr. Leiter believes it to be.
I think A.L. raises a very proper objection, by pointing out that the "easy questions" Mr. Leiter proposes are in fact very difficult questions.
One of them -- whether Bush's economic policies are good for "most" people -- I've written about, arguing the other side. Presumably Mr. Leiter would not care to discuss the opposite viewpoint, which is fine; I have no interest in talking to people who are going to be rude to me, or to my commenters. Still, there is a fully developed alternative understanding of the question, one that is based in real-world experience and deeply moving to many people. A political strain that flatly refuses to even consider it is going to do badly in a democracy, which underlines Armed Liberal's point about the problems Leiter et al have in politics.
That is to say that those Liberals among you who read Grim's Hall are better equipped for the political arena than the liberals who read Leiter, even if you're not persuaded at all. It's hard to persuade someone when you've never stopped to consider what they already believe to be true. Any persuasive argument has to start from the ground that the other person currently holds. You have to know where that ground is in order to figure out how to move them to the ground where you want them to be.
That is to say: you can't move a rock without pushing it, and you can't push against it if you don't really know where it is. Even if you actually are 100% correct, you can't persuade people you won't listen to.
Consider Doc Russia's post today, in which he proposes a compromise between Left and Right on judicial nominations: essentially, that we agree to set aside abortion entirely, not considering one way or the other what a nominee's opinions might be, and focus instead on the problem of Kelo. Here, he notes correctly, Left and Right have a common agreement about what we want from a judge, even if there is some difference in how we get to that position. We could, therefore, search for someone on whom we'd agree, rather than simply getting ready to fight over anyone who was nominated.
(An aside: The difference in methods may not be quite as great as Doc suggests. I think most of you would locate me on the Right, but my objection is as much about injustice and political corruption as it is about property rights. I adhere to the defense of property rights because it is so powerful a means to the end of protecting individual liberty, and restraining the powerful from injustice. I think the position on the Right doesn't stop with, "Well, because he owns it," but continues on to add, "and being able to be secure in your property is how good folk can build and defend the dreams they really care about -- home, hearth, family -- without being pushed around by the high and mighty.")
Still, Doc takes the time to understand the Left's position, to consider how it might braid with his own, and offers a compromise that would allow us to move forward smoothly in what is likely to be a difficult and nasty political dispute. That's exactly the kind of thinking that has worked in American politics through the centuries, and it's a fitting expression on Independence Day weekend.
That's not to say it always works -- frankly, I think it's doubtful that either side will let abortion go, and indeed I'm certain that there are many on each side who think it's far more important than any other issue at stake. But I think Doc is right to try to look for a way forward. Old Doc likes to call himself "Grunt" in his posts, and I've heard him say of himself that he's 'really just a thug.' But there's more wisdom in that thug than in some professors, and there's an end on it.
UPDATE: Ok, not quite the end. There's another thing. I appreciate intelligent prose as much as the next fellow, and my favorite writers -- Sir Walter Scott, for example -- can turn a phrase with anyone. But you ought to try to be clear about what you're saying, if only so you yourself realize when you're sounding like a crank. Leiter quotes a fellow who wrote to agree on the importance of shutting down debate:
I teach a 'comparative world religions' course, and chills run up and down my spine when we come to Christianity and must discuss such things as apocalyptic eschatology and substitutionary atonement, knowing what power such doctrines and ideas have held over the masses then and now, here and elsewhere. Reading your blog reminds me that not everyone has gone mad, that not everyone has succumbed to the 'pathology of normalcy' Erich Fromm diagnosed as lacking a disposition toward truth, in his words: 'the fact that millions of people share the same forms of mental pathology does not make these people sane.'"Substitutionary atonement" means, in this case, "believing that Jesus could die to release mankind of sin." "Pathology" is "the study of disease and its causes."
The author of this piece might have chosen to write, "I teach a 'comparative world religions course,' and chills run up and down my spine when we come to Christianity. Many of my students are sick, because they believe that Jesus died for their sins. Thank goodness not everyone has gone mad, although millions of people share this mental disease." This phrasing is better, if only because it clearly prompts a question: Given that diseases require a cure, just what are you suggesting here?
The answer to that question is frightening enough that it cannot be spoken directly. That is the real reason for the use of jargon words like "substitutionary atonement" -- to provide a barrier between words and actions. The author says he is one of the few who have "a disposition towards truth," but in fact, he is afraid even of the truth of his own thoughts. He dares not phrase them plainly, so they might be understood, so they might require action.
Grim's Hall
The "moving house without a proper truck" saga has finally concluded itself, and now all that remains is unpacking in the new place. (Hot topic for discussion at Grim's Hall: "Hey, have you seen the other bottle of hornet killer? These things are everywhere.")
Thank you for your patience during this slow-posting week. Hopefully things will resume their usual (ahem) breakneck pace.
Starting tomorrow. I think I need a day of rest today.
Winds of Change.NET: The Alliance: U.S. & India Sign Major 10-Year Defense Pact
The India-US Defense Pact is a very big deal. You'll all want to read what he's got about it today. The pact itself is huge, but it's of even larger potential importance: if managed carefully, an India-US alliance could become the most important global force since the height of NATO.
Boffins create zombie dogs | The Other Side | Breaking News 24/7 - NEWS.com.au (27-06-2005)
Surely there must be a torch-bearing mob somewhere in the US? Apparently not.
Racial Disparities Found in Pinpointing Mental Illness
I was a little alarmed to see this week that Tom Cruise came out against psychology. His reasons for doing so are doubtless different from my own reasons (which are described particularly in the comments to this post). I know nothing at all about Scientology, so I'm not in a position to judge its reasoning here. Still, finding Tom Cruise on your side on issues of sanity is somewhat like finding Michael Moore on your side on issues of foreign policy: It has to be alarming.
So, I'd like to take a moment to underline two articles from today's worldwide press that support my contention that psychology is not a science, and ought not to be allowed to exercise the power it does in our legal system and, indeed, our general society. The first is from the Washington Post, and is called "Racial Disparities Found in Pinpointing Mental Illness." Here are some important paragraphs.
Although schizophrenia has been shown to affect all ethnic groups at the same rate, the scientist found that blacks in the United States were more than four times as likely to be diagnosed with the disorder as whites. Hispanics were more than three times as likely to be diagnosed as whites....Emphasis added. I assume that the reader understand why that is alarming. This isn't just a "race" story: if anyone's experience, goals, or thoughts sound "unusual" to psychologists, they're insane. You may just need to be medicated for your own good, as in the case of "one thirty-year-old woman" who was talking fast, called people at all hours, and didn't seem to need much sleep. "[H]er charts showed she had been hospitalized for schizophrenia and treated with injectable medications, which suggested that her doctors thought her schizophrenia was particularly severe." In fact, she didn't have schizophrenia at all.The data confirm the fears of experts who have warned for years that minorities are more likely to be misdiagnosed as having serious psychiatric problems. "Bias is a very real issue," said Francis Lu, a psychiatrist at the University of California at San Francisco. "We don't talk about it -- it's upsetting. We see ourselves as unbiased and rational and scientific." ...
Unlike AIDS or cancer, mental illnesses cannot be diagnosed with a brain scan or a blood test. The impressions of doctors -- drawn from verbal and nonverbal cues -- determine whether a patient is healthy or sick.
"Because we have no lab test, the only way we can test if someone is psychotic is, we use ourselves as the measure," said Michael Smith, a psychiatrist at the University of California at Los Angeles who studies the effects of culture and ethnicity on psychiatry. "If it sounds unusual to us, we call it psychotic."
The story lists other things that can be diagnosed as severe mental illness. One of them is "intense religious belief." What constitutes "intense" is obviously just as variable as anything else in this business: whatever strikes the psychologist as "unusual... we call it psychotic."
The second story comes from the Bangkok Post. It is called "Mental Health Problems Soar in Bangkok." The story takes it as read that these problems are real -- after all, psychologists say that they are real.
The number of Bangkok people with mental health problems has soared 900% from 587 per 100,000 to 5,485 in three years, according to a National Economic and Social Development Board report.The number of people with problems has soared 900%. In three years.
Gonna need a few more "hospitals" to confine these people.
Madder
The more I think about this, the madder I get. Doc has a post on the topic, and at the bottom in an update he notes that a town in Texas has already moved to take several buildings away from existing companies, in order to build a marina. "The Great SCOTUS Land Grab," they call it.
One of the things that's always bothered me about the way we do things in this country, to be honest, is that you've never been able to own anything free and clear. You pay for it, you pay off any loan you took to cover the cost, and you "own" it -- but only so long as you continue to pay the government, every single year, whatever tax it cares to asses against you for the privilege.
If you fail, of course, they are free to take your land, or whatever else they like, and sell it in order to pay the taxes you "owe" -- based on whatever valuation their own assessors care to put on the value of your property.
The fact that you worked your whole life to build something means nothing at all. In Savannah, I saw many old folks run out of homes they'd lived in all their lives because suddenly, following the publication of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, it became fashionable to have a second home in Savannah. Nicholas Cage and the like were buying up places; real estate values rose; and the government raised taxes on the basis of this inflated, temporary bubble.
Then they sold those people's houses to pay themselves the taxes that they felt entitled to collect. Rob from the poor to feed the rich.
This is not what America was meant to be about. As I've said from time to time, I'm a Georgia Democrat -- the party that is best known today for producing Zell Miller. But in an earlier generation, it had a truly titanic figure at its head: James Jackson, hero of the Revolution, Senator, State Senator, Governor. James Jackson, "the prince of duelists," was the founder of the party and the defender of its ideals in the difficult days to follow the Revolution.
James Jackson fought four duels during his quest to put an end to just such lawlessness as this.
It was called 'the Yazoo Land Fraud.' The duels were on pretenses, with men famed as killers trying to slay Jackson to keep him from winning his cause. My alma mater, Georgia State University, has it this way:
In 1795 the Georgia legislature sold the state's western (or "Yazoo") lands to several companies of speculators. Rumors abounded that the purchasers had used bribery to secure passage of the Yazoo Act. Jackson, a member of the U.S. Senate since 1793, resigned his seat, returned to Georgia, and won a seat in the state legislature in order to personally organize an anti-Yazoo campaign.... Jackson and his supporters rescinded the Yazoo Act and arranged the public destruction of records associated with the sale. After being elected governor in 1798 Jackson saw to it that the substance of the Rescinding Act of 1796 was engrafted onto a revised state constitution."Arranged the public destruction of records" is entirely too dry. Here is what he did: when he had finally gotten the law rescinded that allowed these speculators to buy up all the land, he had the records of all these fraudulent "sales" put together in a big pile on the lawn of the statehouse. An old man he knew came forth with a magnifying glass, and focused the rays of the sun on them until they caught fire and burned. The folks of Georgia said that the Yazoo law 'had been destroyed by fire out of heaven.'
Jackson believed in the 'yeoman farmer,' that ideal of Jefferson's which held that a man who owned his land was free, free in a way that no other man could be. He took those lands and saw that they became the property, not of speculators, but of families.
Still today, the man who owns his land -- his house -- his small business -- that man is free, in a way that no one else truly is. Kelo, along with these punitive and speculation-based taxes, are a direct assault on the principle that James Jackson fought to uphold.
We are called today to remember his daring, his courage, and his ideals. This scourge has been beaten down once before. It can be again: but we will have to be bold.
Thaistunt
The family and I have managed to go from "nothing's going right" to "nothing's going quite right," which is a big step. I'm sorry not to have more time to blog right now, but hopefully as the move settles down things will improve.
In the meanwhile, I have something you might enjoy. I found it while reading The Bangkok Post, an interesting newspaper in many respects. This is a local feature story about all those Thai stuntment who suffer so much to make Hollywood's spoiled brats look good:
Kawee Sirikhanaerat has long learned to accept the inevitable: In every single film he appears in, his character is destined to suffer a brutal death, usually being murdered in the most sadistic and photogenic fashion. One of his dearest memories was in Lara Croft Tomb Raider 2, in which he plays a disposable baddy who's crushed to death by a giant Doric pillar in an aquatic city. "The earth splits and the roof crumbles," he says. "It's quite a death, isn't it?"I have to say, I didn't see it. But I'm sure it was remarkable.
Curmudgeonly & Skeptical#111957134205191629
There have been several responses to the Kelo verdict, of which this is my favorite. Here is mine.
Last summer, the county commission of Forsyth County, Georgia -- which is, in my long experience, just as corrupt a body of public officials as you are likely to find outside of a major city with a well-established political machine -- decided to exercise this same formal power to lay claim to a portion of my boyhood home. This is forested country, down by a pretty little creek named Settendown, which is named after a Cherokee chief. The government decided to take the section by the creek and bulldoze it, in order to lay a large sewer pipe. Why did they need a large sewer pipe? Well, in order to ease the development of a massive subdivision down the way.
It happens that "a few" of the commission members are land developers; and if you add in the ones who have "friends" and family who are land developers, well, you get the idea. Anyway, this was one step from Kelo: they weren't actually bulldozing my family's house to put up a subdivision, just bulldozing part of my family's land in order to put in a sewer pipe so that the subdivision could be built. The part I always liked best; the part where I spent my boyhood with my dogs, where I learned to shoot, and where I spent many hours sitting and watching the water flow by.
The locals tried to fight it, going to the commission meetings, pointing out irrelevant details that ultimately had no bearing at all on the decision ("You know, we're the ones who elected you people, not these developers," for example). In the end, the county issued a decision which was described to me as this: take the money under eminent domain without filing a suit, or else we'll just condemn the land, bulldoze it anyway, and pay you nothing.
So the bulldozers came, and plowed it under.
My father's response to all this was to videotape it and send me a copy. He did this based on his understanding that his-grandson-my-son would enjoy watching the tractors and bulldozers at work. This was, of course, perfectly true.
My own reaction to watching it done was rather different.
Kim du Toit says that we shouldn't be surprised when somebody kills one of these construction workers. I think he's right. I had the impulse myself, and I'm a reasonably nice fellow, kind to children and puppies. It passed quickly: of course, it's not the bulldozer operator's fault that the county is ordering this done. Now, those commissioners... and the developers...
See, there you go. One minute I'm a man who's spent his life in the service of the Republic, and the government that is meant to watch over it. I'm probably more law-abiding than most, at least since I became a father; I even obey speed limits to the letter. But then, one second later, I'm seriously considering setting aside the laws once and for all, and putting things right in despite of the government.
And they weren't even bulldozing the house. Just a corner of the property.
Local governments are corrupt. They've just been handed a tool to line their pockets, and to batter their constituents into submission. The only threat at all, the one at which the commissioners laughed -- "I'll vote against you next time" -- even that is now lost. You think you'll vote me out? I'll bulldoze your house, put up a nonresidential zone instead, and you won't even be eligible to vote in the election.
Thanks for your land, though. Here's a "fair" price for it. Take it, or else.
Here's my pledge: for the good of the public order, I will never -- should I be asked to serve on a jury dealing with such a case -- vote to convict any man for any lawbreaking done to protect his property against predations of this sort. I suggest you each resolve the same. Whether he puts sugar in the gas tanks of the bulldozer, "trespasses" on his property, or shoots some mayor or developer, the worst he'll face from me is a mistrial. He'll walk, if I have anything to say about it. As far as I'm concerned, it's justified. He's just doing what he has to do to protect one of the cornerstones of our civilization against a governing class that has decided to override it.
Has decided to try, I should say. Molon labe.
Fun
Grim's Hall, virtual, is remaining put, but Grim's Hall, physical, is undergoing its pretty-much-annual move. And what a move it's been.
Today alone I've:
(a) discovered that I've lost $400 buying an internet system that, once installed, proved to be useless because of its (undocumented) inability to access secure sites -- kind of a necessity for someone like me. I'll therefore be back to using dial up, as that's the only other option where we will be.
(b) got stung by a swarm of wasps while trying to install the useless internet system, so that my arm has swollen up to look rather like Popeye's.
(c) found out at 4:30 this afternoon that the moving van promised to us for tomorrow at 8 AM will not, in fact, be available at all, even though,
(d) the carpet cleaners are coming tomorrow at 10, so that all the furniture has to be moved out before then, which coupled with the internet situation means that:
(e) until I can get the dial up account working at the new place, I'll be sitting on the floor in an empty room doing my work.
And, of course, I still have to move the furniture tomorrow. Without a moving van. Hm.
I was supposed to be spending the evening with my wife and Sovay: dear Sovay had gotten tickets to Serenity, a sneak preview down in Norfolk. I've been looking forward to it for a month.
Instead, I spent the evening and night lashing furniture to my vehicles at improbable angles, then unloading it into storage units as the new house -- I think I failed to mention this -- turns out to have been used by the previous tenet, in direct violation of the lease, as a shelter for fully twelve stray cats. Until the carpets and pads are replaced, therefore, I don't actually have a place for my furniture there, either.
Poor Sovay. She went out of her way to do something nice for me, and I let her down. And she didn't even get the fun of laughing at the sight of me, arm swollen to the size of a grapefruit, trying to load a heavy old walnut desk on top of a Chevy.