My paternal grandmother, Willametta Dildine, was Irish through and through.
As she was not born a male, she was not an Irish Drunk .. but then, I repeat myself.
She married Virgil Ezra Burnett, a man of German/English descent, and made of his life a living hell.
They had eight children: five boys, three girls. My father, Vernon, was the fourth of the five boys. His younger sister, also named Willametta, was a vision of her mother: she made a comparable Living Hell for her family in all directions. Yet his youngest sister, Ruby, was a vision of loveliness in all ways. She was beautiful, charming, personable, made the best Peanut Butter Cookies in the world, and married a drunk.
Well, she was Irish, don't you know?
Marriage is the only way that the Irish can conquer the English and the Scots, and I guess gramma was preordained to continue the ages-old fight. She had no regard for her grandchildren, that I can tell you. I never received a kind word from her; never sat on her lap, never was given a treat. My most powerful memory was one Thanksgiving day in her home when I found her hidden box of crackers. The dinner had taken far too long to prepare, for a small child's will to forbear. When she saw me happily munching on (very small) handfuls, she screeched for my mother to "take that young hooligan out of my pantry, and don't let him eat all of my crackers!"
And even less regard for the spouses of her children. My mother was of English/Scots descent, and so my grandmother hated her in the way in which only the Irish could hate. She never accepted my mother, attempting even to dissuade my father from marrying her.
Remember Scarlet O'Hara of "Gone With The Wind"? (See a trailer)
That's what I'm talking about.
---
My father, as had all of his brothers, left their home as soon as he could to make his own way in the world. He was 15 years of age when he left to take up employment in the fields of Eastern Oregon. He taught himself to be a mechanic, and for the next 55 years earned a good living for his family. He married a woman named "Wilhelmina". Pure coincidence, I think, although I dated another woman named "Wilhelmina" for a while when I was in college ... in the town where my grandparents lived. I could have done worse than to marry her, but I did not.
Yet we always spent most of our weekends in the small towns where his brothers and sisters ... sometimes where my mother's brothers and sisters ... lived. He was a devout family man, and I see it now in my children and most especially in my own son who so loves children that when there were people his own age and children in the room, he always spends most of his time with the children.
The Irish can be an unhappy people. God knows they have reason to be, they have been inflicted with famine and disfavor. When they began to immigrate to America because of the Great Potato Famine, they were poorly treated by the people who had immigrated before them.
And yet they love their God, they love their church, they love their people. The Leprechauns are a fitting symbol. Tricksters, hoarding their pots of gold and sporting their national colors, they play tricks on those who would steal their fortunes.
Clannish, yes they are. The Irish are not the only people who will lie and steal and deceive to protect their people against those who are NOT their people.
But they are so open to each other, one wonders how an Irishman could deceive anyone.
My daughter married an Irishman. He's what they call "Black Irish" ... supposedly a descendant of the Spanish survivors when the Spanish Armada was beaten by the English under Lord Howell and Sir Francis Drake. When bad weather overwhelmed the storm- and battle-damaged Spanish ships, some of the crews made it to the shores of Ireland and were eventually accepted as members of the community, thus leavening the Irish stock with Spanish blood. (Current thought is that this is all balderdash, as the Spanish sailors and soldiers were slaughtered to a man by the Irish. I prefer to accept the romantic concept that the black-haired Irish carry the blood of Spanish Conquistadors .. and the temperament!)
I also tend to think that the image of the Irish as a fun-loving, cheerful people must be reconciled with the alter image of a dark, melancholy, aggressive people who love a good fight as much as they love a glass of beer or a dram of whiskey.
Why else should the most famous proverb concerning the Irish be:
"God invented Whiskey, so that the Irish should not rule the world".
When the Aliens assault Earth, it will be Irish who lead the defense ... and the subsequent inevitable slaughter of Aliens.
And then they'll retire to the pub, to laugh and sing "O Danny Boy" (perhaps this is a more real depiction of the attitude I recall ... or not) and lift a glass for Absent Friends.
These are the Irish that I know.
UP THE IRISH!
PS:
This was all a lead-in to the Sondra K. article on Ronald Reagan's visit to an "Irish Pub" on St. Patrick's Day.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Sondra K moves "Knowledge is Power"
Although I've long since moved "KISP" to the "websites that I'm now kinda luke warm about" level on my sidebar, that doesn't mean that I NEVER avail myself her keen insights to the culture and her high good humor when reporting our never-ending failures.
I just don't go there every day. There's so MUCH content, I just couldn't possibly read HER stuff and crank out the occasional article about MY stuff.
If you are like me in appreciating her blogsite, then you deserve to be informed that she is moving her blog to a different URL. (This will be reflected on the link on my sidebar.)
The old URL, http://www.sondrak.com/ , will be retained purely for archival purposes.
For her current stuff, see her new URL: http://www.sondrakistan.com/
I'll see you there, because Knowlege IS Power!
I just don't go there every day. There's so MUCH content, I just couldn't possibly read HER stuff and crank out the occasional article about MY stuff.
If you are like me in appreciating her blogsite, then you deserve to be informed that she is moving her blog to a different URL. (This will be reflected on the link on my sidebar.)
The old URL, http://www.sondrak.com/ , will be retained purely for archival purposes.
For her current stuff, see her new URL: http://www.sondrakistan.com/
I'll see you there, because Knowlege IS Power!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Mr. Wizard, 2011
(No Dylithium Crystals were injured during the making of this film.)
Love the punchline. Mr. Obama, are you listening?
(Hat Tip to "Digger" Fulkerson)
Love the punchline. Mr. Obama, are you listening?
(Hat Tip to "Digger" Fulkerson)
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Young Mexican police chief seeks US asylum
Young Mexican police chief seeks US asylum :
Isn't this a big surprise?
A (very!) young Mexican woman volunteered to take over the office of Chief of Police in her home town, and got the job because every rational person in the country was too frightened by the likelihood of being slaughtered ... as her predecessor was.
That was six months ago.
Six DAYS ago, she took a "temporary leave of absence" and, unannounced, showed up in the United States of America, where " ... she has initiated a formal asylum petition" on the basis of reported death threats and, possibly an attempted kidnapping in the town which she had eagerly sworn to protect the citizens.
Apparently, she has since discovered that she can't even protect herself. Big surprise.
Didn't she have a PLAN?
Did she think she could take a job where her predecessor had been murdered, in a lawless place, without having a viable plan (one which she was equipped to implement it successfully, given her well-demonstrated attributes and strength and will)?
Or perhaps her plan wasn't for the betterment of her community, but for the betterment of herself?
I'm guessing that she will be granted asylum (U.S. immigration officials are notoriously prone to accept any petition where the would-be immigrant can make a case for persecution if asylum is not granted), and I'm wondering if this was not her goal -- her "plan" -- all the time.
Color me biased. Go ahead, I don't mind. Perhaps it takes a Bad Person to suspect the motivation of a woman ... no, a girl ... who deliberately puts herself in such an obviously untenable position.
Wow! What a gutsy move. Tens of thousands of Mexicans illegally cross the border every year, from Mexico to the United States, for the purpose of "seeking a higher standard of living" and/or "trying to improve the pitiful plight of their families".
(And a significant number of Mexicans ALSO apply for legal immigration ... and are often turned down because there are so many "illegal aliens" from Mexico are already flooding the "unskilled labor" pools of this country.)
So now this girl has found an entirely new scam, for the same purpose, and you just know that she is going to get away with it.
To tell the truth, I really don't blame her. In fact, in some ways I admire her inventiveness. It's kind of the way that I admire the characters played by Paul Newman and Robert Redford in "The Sting". Sure, they're all crooked as a dog's hind leg, but they're such charming rogues and so terribly inventive.
While on the one hand I would really like to see this charming, inventive, lovely young woman succeed ... on the other hand, I very much would like to see her application turned down.
The basis for the rejection would be something along the lines of "you made your bed, now you may sleep in it". Well, badly stated; that's true. And you know that this administration would NEVER be anything but compassionate.
That is to say: as long as she makes a sufficient case to be categorized as "The Underdog", she may reasonably expect that her application for asylum will be approved, and she will never want for anything for the rest of her natural life. Never mind that she brings no marketable skills, and will probably end up on the public dole. (Unless Hollywood, that hotbed of liberalism, chooses to make a film of her otherwise humdrum existence ... although it would make a MUCH better film if they started it out from the point where her application was denied, and followed her subsequent attempts to actually fulfill the expectations which she had engendered in her constituents when she applied for the job in the first place. Kind of like Walking Tall, without the stick.)
Ultimately, we can only say that we deplore the situation which is developing (or has fully developed, and can only get worse?) in Mexico.
We don't like drugs. We disapprove of corruption. and we absolutely cannot understand that third-world-country government mindset which allows drug-gangs to terrorize their innocent civilians, but which at the same time refuses to allow those same innocent civilians to arm themselves.
After all, it's not like they're getting any protection from their government ... which, in case I haven't mentioned it before, is notoriously CORRUPT! Both their police, and their army; and their president is well spoken, but flagrantly and demonstrably incompetent as is his administration.
Why is that, do you think? Is it because the national government thinks that if their citizens were armed, there would be more murders, and torture, and decapitations and raids and gunfights in the streets and 72 bodies found in a demolished building in the countryside?
Doe the Mexican government think that allowing their honest citizens to arm themselves would result in a massacre which would undermine the tourism industry?
I'm just a simple geek, I really don't understand any of this. I don't have answers; I only have a lot of questions.
Don't you?
Isn't this a big surprise?
A (very!) young Mexican woman volunteered to take over the office of Chief of Police in her home town, and got the job because every rational person in the country was too frightened by the likelihood of being slaughtered ... as her predecessor was.
That was six months ago.
Six DAYS ago, she took a "temporary leave of absence" and, unannounced, showed up in the United States of America, where " ... she has initiated a formal asylum petition" on the basis of reported death threats and, possibly an attempted kidnapping in the town which she had eagerly sworn to protect the citizens.
Apparently, she has since discovered that she can't even protect herself. Big surprise.
"EL PASO, Texas — A young woman who received death threats after recently becoming police chief of a violence-plagued Mexican town is in the U.S and seeking asylum, Mexican and U.S. officials said Tuesday.So what's with this? I mean, she volunteered for a LEO command position in a notoriously rough town. Didn't she have a ... a ... I'm trying to think of the word, what is it?
Marisol Valles Garcia, who was 20 when she was hired last October, made international headlines when she accepted the top law enforcement job in Praxedis G. Guerrero, a township near the Texas border overrun by drug violence. Her predecessor was shot to death in July 2009.
Garcia is now in the U.S. and will be allowed to present her case to an immigration judge, according to a statement from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The town is in the Mexican state of Chihuahua, where ombudsman Gustavo de la Rosa confirmed that Garcia was in the U.S. and said she has initiated a formal asylum petition."
Didn't she have a PLAN?
Did she think she could take a job where her predecessor had been murdered, in a lawless place, without having a viable plan (one which she was equipped to implement it successfully, given her well-demonstrated attributes and strength and will)?
Or perhaps her plan wasn't for the betterment of her community, but for the betterment of herself?
I'm guessing that she will be granted asylum (U.S. immigration officials are notoriously prone to accept any petition where the would-be immigrant can make a case for persecution if asylum is not granted), and I'm wondering if this was not her goal -- her "plan" -- all the time.
Color me biased. Go ahead, I don't mind. Perhaps it takes a Bad Person to suspect the motivation of a woman ... no, a girl ... who deliberately puts herself in such an obviously untenable position.
Wow! What a gutsy move. Tens of thousands of Mexicans illegally cross the border every year, from Mexico to the United States, for the purpose of "seeking a higher standard of living" and/or "trying to improve the pitiful plight of their families".
(And a significant number of Mexicans ALSO apply for legal immigration ... and are often turned down because there are so many "illegal aliens" from Mexico are already flooding the "unskilled labor" pools of this country.)
So now this girl has found an entirely new scam, for the same purpose, and you just know that she is going to get away with it.To tell the truth, I really don't blame her. In fact, in some ways I admire her inventiveness. It's kind of the way that I admire the characters played by Paul Newman and Robert Redford in "The Sting". Sure, they're all crooked as a dog's hind leg, but they're such charming rogues and so terribly inventive.
While on the one hand I would really like to see this charming, inventive, lovely young woman succeed ... on the other hand, I very much would like to see her application turned down.
The basis for the rejection would be something along the lines of "you made your bed, now you may sleep in it". Well, badly stated; that's true. And you know that this administration would NEVER be anything but compassionate.
That is to say: as long as she makes a sufficient case to be categorized as "The Underdog", she may reasonably expect that her application for asylum will be approved, and she will never want for anything for the rest of her natural life. Never mind that she brings no marketable skills, and will probably end up on the public dole. (Unless Hollywood, that hotbed of liberalism, chooses to make a film of her otherwise humdrum existence ... although it would make a MUCH better film if they started it out from the point where her application was denied, and followed her subsequent attempts to actually fulfill the expectations which she had engendered in her constituents when she applied for the job in the first place. Kind of like Walking Tall, without the stick.)
Ultimately, we can only say that we deplore the situation which is developing (or has fully developed, and can only get worse?) in Mexico.
We don't like drugs. We disapprove of corruption. and we absolutely cannot understand that third-world-country government mindset which allows drug-gangs to terrorize their innocent civilians, but which at the same time refuses to allow those same innocent civilians to arm themselves.
After all, it's not like they're getting any protection from their government ... which, in case I haven't mentioned it before, is notoriously CORRUPT! Both their police, and their army; and their president is well spoken, but flagrantly and demonstrably incompetent as is his administration.
(Makes you glad to be an American, doesn't it?
Oh, wait a minute.
Never mind.)
Why is that, do you think? Is it because the national government thinks that if their citizens were armed, there would be more murders, and torture, and decapitations and raids and gunfights in the streets and 72 bodies found in a demolished building in the countryside?
Doe the Mexican government think that allowing their honest citizens to arm themselves would result in a massacre which would undermine the tourism industry?
I'm just a simple geek, I really don't understand any of this. I don't have answers; I only have a lot of questions.
Don't you?
Monday, March 07, 2011
What? NPR -- Biased? Naaaah!
NPR exec blasts tea party in hidden-camera video:
We have all known for years that their self-vaunted 'objectivity' was mere verisimilitude, and a charge which they have never answered except in denial.
Now we here it straight from the mouth of one of the premier executives:
It was a sting operation, and that sting hurt the image of NPR and its leadership.
During the interview, Schiller accused Republicans (especially the Tea Party) as being "not intellectual" and "Racist, racist". He also accused Jews of "running the newspapers".
Curiously, Schiller also made the statement that NPR didn't need Federal support, and in fact he would personally embrace any decision which resulted in discontinuing governmental funding because it would allow NPR to be more "independent".
One wonders how much more "independent" NPR could be, or how much more flagrantly they could espouse recorded opinions which allows the leadership to "like" the appellation of "National Palestinian Radio".
The article includes a link to NPR PRESS (which, at this time, makes no reference to the interview), and also to the organization --- Project Veritas -- which made the film ... and includes damning excerpts in their plea for funding.
Yes, it's always about money. And politics.
Frankly, I'm not impressed by either NPR or the muck-rakers who exposed them.
On the other hand, the muck-rakers aren't getting $90,000,000 of my taxes every year to support their politics ... and if they do, it's not because I have no say in how my tax dollars are spent.
Perhaps I should also write an article complaining about how my union (SEIU) is taking nearly a thousand dollars a year from my paycheck for "Fair Share" to support their liberal politics.
But then, I'm retiring in another six weeks, so I can probably afford to speak up then without the thread of bone-breakers hunting me down like the running-dog Capitalist that I am.
It isn't easy, being Geek.
"A National Public Radio executive was captured on hidden camera calling the tea party movement racist and xenophobic and said NPR would be better off without federal funding, in an embarrassment likely to fuel the latest round of conservative attacks on public broadcasting."I've been disposed to discuss the disgusting Liberal Bias of NPR over the past couple of years, sometimes even questioning whether I could earmark my income taxes to NOT go to their disgustingly liberally biased reporting.
We have all known for years that their self-vaunted 'objectivity' was mere verisimilitude, and a charge which they have never answered except in denial.
Now we here it straight from the mouth of one of the premier executives:
National Public Radio said in a statement that it was "appalled" by the comments from Ron Schiller, the president of NPR's fundraising arm and a senior vice president for development.Well, yes, they are appalled; but it seems to be common that they are much more happy about being "appalled" by the actions of someone with whom they have already disassociated themselves. Witness their immediate FIRING of commentator Juan Williams, who said (in his capacity as a private citizen, NOT as an employee of NPR) something which was decidedly not "touchy-feely":
Attacks by conservatives on NPR gained momentum last year when analyst Juan Williams was fired for saying on Fox News that he feels uncomfortable when he sees people in "Muslim garb" on airplanes. Schiller defends the Williams firing in the video.The interview was secretly filmed on Feb. 22, 2011, in an exchange with two men who (falsely) represented themselves as Muslims who were offering a donation of five million dollars, from a source which repeatedly described their organization which was "originally founded by "... the fundamentalist Muslim Brotherhood".
It was a sting operation, and that sting hurt the image of NPR and its leadership.
During the interview, Schiller accused Republicans (especially the Tea Party) as being "not intellectual" and "Racist, racist". He also accused Jews of "running the newspapers".
Curiously, Schiller also made the statement that NPR didn't need Federal support, and in fact he would personally embrace any decision which resulted in discontinuing governmental funding because it would allow NPR to be more "independent".
One wonders how much more "independent" NPR could be, or how much more flagrantly they could espouse recorded opinions which allows the leadership to "like" the appellation of "National Palestinian Radio".
The article includes a link to NPR PRESS (which, at this time, makes no reference to the interview), and also to the organization --- Project Veritas -- which made the film ... and includes damning excerpts in their plea for funding.
Yes, it's always about money. And politics.
Frankly, I'm not impressed by either NPR or the muck-rakers who exposed them.
On the other hand, the muck-rakers aren't getting $90,000,000 of my taxes every year to support their politics ... and if they do, it's not because I have no say in how my tax dollars are spent.
Perhaps I should also write an article complaining about how my union (SEIU) is taking nearly a thousand dollars a year from my paycheck for "Fair Share" to support their liberal politics.
But then, I'm retiring in another six weeks, so I can probably afford to speak up then without the thread of bone-breakers hunting me down like the running-dog Capitalist that I am.
It isn't easy, being Geek.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Saint Christopher
In 1998 I graduated from College.
I also got married.
Six days after my marriage, I reported to the Selective Service Induction Center in Portland, Oregon. I was assigned to the U.S. Army, and reported to Fort Lewis, Washington for Basic Training.
I spent three months in Basic, and another three months in Advanced Infantry School, all at Fort Lewis.
Then I was selected for Non Commissioned Officer School (NCOC) at Fort Benning, Georgia. This program, also known as "Instant NCO School", and "Shake 'n Bake", because it replaced years of experience normally required to achieve NCO status with a six-month program of intensive training and challenge, supposedly with the goal of providing needed SKILLS (note: not experience) required of a NCO.
I graduated in April of 1969 as an Honor Graduate (Staff Sergeant: grade E6) and immediately transferred to Fort Anniston, Alabama for On The Job (OJT) training. The duties there were to become a member of the training cadre at a Basic Training Company.
Having successfully completed the OJT portion of my NCO training, I was granted 3 months leave, which my wife and I used visiting friends and family between Alabama and Oregon.
In September, 1969, I reported to a Replacement and Transfer unit in Oakland, California, from which I was shipped (by air ... almost as Air Freight) to Vietnam. I was an 11B40 ... Infantry NCO.
Before I shipped out, my sister threw a "Going Away" party for me at her house in Eugene, Oregon. This was typified by heavy drinking and dancing, and my insistance upon constantly replaying "Vietnam Blues" (also known as "Feelin' Like I'm Fixin' to Die" by Country Joe and the Fish. )
Well, that was the feeling in the country when I was scheduled to report for duty in Viet Nam.
But my sister, bless her heart, would do everything she could think of to help me get through the war. Realistically, there wasn't much that she COULD do, but she reached deep into her faith and gave me the only shield available to her: a Saint Christopher Medal.
The Patron Saint of Travellers was as much as she could do at the time, so she gave me the medal on a silver chain and I was touched by her thoughtfulness.
I reported to the First Infantry Division, centerd at the Division Base in Dian, in III Corps, a few miles from Saigon.
After a week of "in country training", reviewing all of the tactics I had learned in Advanced Infantry and NCO school, I was assigned to 3rd Platoon, Lima Company, 1/16, 1ID. They needed a Platoon Sgt., and I was the closest to a "Platoon Sgt." available at the time. (This slot is usually assigned to an E7, but those "upper ranking" NCO's were usually assigned to positions such as Supply Sgt., Company First Sgt., and other essential positions.)
Knowing nothing about war except for what I had been told, I was choppered into my company Area of Responsibility near Thunder Road (Hiway 13) north and east of Saigon.
When I arrived at my Company Area "In the Rear", it was late in the afternoon, so I was given the rest of the day to get my gear squared away, draw ammunition, a weapon (M16A2), field gear (Alice Pack), rations and water. I was briefed on Division Policy ... which essentially was that they told me 1ID and 1/16 policy was that we worked as a company in the field, and existed on a light pack with 2-3 days rations and water with 'frequent' resupply by helicopters.
At 7am the next day, I was waiting at the chopper pad when a 3-bird "resupply flight" of Hueys landed to pick up ammo, water, C-rations and incidental "stuff". In fact, it wasn't until the end of the 30-minute flight that I learned I was to be inserted into a "Hot LZ" (Landing Zone), and the company was under fire from "unknown enemy forces". (That is, they didn't know if the North Vietnamese Army ... NVA ... or Viet Cong ... VC ... were shooting at them. Typically, they hadn't seen the enemy; they only knew that somebody was shooting at them.
This was typical of my entire tour of duty. We Deal in GHOSTS, Friend!
The chopper was loaded with a pilot and copilot, a Crew Chief and a Door Gunner, and a stack of C-ration cases four feet high and wide. The Door Gunner was chatty, and told me that his favorite sport was to machine-gun Water Buffalo in Rice paddies. (Was I on the wrong side here?)
As I was landed in a small clearing, it wan't until I jumped out of the door of the grounder chopper that I realized that I was hanging onto my M16 with one hand, and my St. Christopher Medal with the other.
It must have worked. As soon as we were re-supplied, we grabbed our still-boxed supplies and loaded onto another flight ... an eagle Flight this time (five choppers plus gunships for protection) and lifted out to another area ... the Heart Shaped woods.
I and the small group I was attached to were on the last of 3 flights to lift off. (It was a Company Size Operation .. one of the few where the entire company was involved in a single battle, during my entire tour of duty. At the time, I had no idea how unique and important this operation was.) Just before our choppers landed, one of the 5 men I was attached to declared that he thought the incoming fire was coming from a woodline across an open field from us. He was carring an M72 LAW (Light Anti-Tank Weapon ... a rocket in a disposable tube) and he was going to fire the LAW at the woodline just before the last chopppers landed. He was forbidden to fire the LAW without permission from a 'superior'. Having no desire to have our lift-off chopper be downed by enemy fire, I readily gave him permission! The rocket, having been fired, hit the base of the trees in the opposing woodline. I didn't understand how well-placed the shot was, until I much later tried to hit a woodline as commander of a tank.
We lifted off successfully, and in 20 minutes joined the rest of the company at our "cold" LZ in the Heart Shaped Woods ... another area where the VC was usually in command. We were lucky this time, not having taken fire upon landing. There I met the Company Commander and learned that his chopper (the one which had left our old position immediately before mine) had received fire upon extraction. He reported that several rounds impacted upon the floor of the cargo compartment, but had passed through without significant damage to the machinery and NO injuries to crew or cargo. The cargo, of course, was the CO and the HQ cadre.
The St. Christopher Mojo was apparently working for all of us.
When we landed and disembarked at our new LZ (cold), we first grabbed our resupply, then waded through a hip-deep swamp for about 50 yards. The 2nd Squad RTO (Radio Telephone Operator, or "Kilo") lost his SOI during the crossing. The SOI is Strategic Operational Information .. or the codebook to all of our radio callsigns, one-time codebook, and other highly secret information. We spent 10 minutes searching for the swamp and finaly the Company Commander (Captain Determan) made the call: if we couldnt' find it with a company of men searching for it, knowing that it was somewhere inside the 2-acre swamp, Charly was unlikely to happen upon it by accident.
Besides, if Charley was in the area he knew where we had landed, and an extended search would only draw his attention. That is, if we were obviously searching for 'something', then that 'something' would obviously be important to us. Charley would not quit searching until he found it. The codebook was "administratively" declared "irretreviably lost" and the search was abandoned.
We took our ration cased and 2-gallon water jugs to the opposite shore, and broke them down. That is, we uncrated the C-rations and distributed them, along with the water and the ammo and the sundaries packs and incidental resupply (some uniform parts and one pair of boots) and radio batteries among the company. Some of it was random and equal distribution; the battery packs went to the RTOs; the uniform replacements and the boots went to those company members who had reported uniform components which were too damaged and/or worn to be sufficient to their purpose. Curiously, this was the only time when I saw boots and uniforms replaced in the field. Apparently, it had been a hard campaign so far. I was grateful that I had missed the worst of it, and once again I realized that I was gripping my St. Christopher Medal.
We dug a fire pit wherein we dumped the unselected C-rations, along with the old radio batteries, and discarded uniform parts (trousers, blouses) and disintegrating Jungle Boots. We added a few quarter-pound segments of C4 explosives to provide initiating fire to the discards, and to provide sufficient heat so that the discarded C-ration tin cans would burst. We also included incidental discards .. jelly and peanut-butter tins, which were extremely flamable under the great head from the C4, and would add to the indendary nature of the fire.
Then we moved out, along the perimeter of the Heart Shaped Woods.
It's worth noting that the Heart Shaped Woods was actually a several-acre area populated by chest-high brush. It was impossible to move through, except for a few animal-created trails. The general consensus was that ALL of the trails were mined and /or booby-trapped, which was the reason why Charley owned the area, and we avoided any attempts to cross it. The 1ID burned the woods occasionally, but that only made the next growth richer, taller and thicker. Recent division policy, I learned, was to avoid passing through or attempting to irradicate the intrinsic cover and concealment afforded to Charley (VC -- Viet Cong or "Victor Charley"). Instead, we would patrol the fringes from time to time, and if Charley chose to engage American Troops. we would call in artillary and/or Air Support and eradicate the woods. And Charley. With no expectation thta we could win and "own" the Heart Shaped Woods.
In the meantime, we were content to patrol the fringes, at irregualr intervals, as the mood struck our commanders.
Observant Charley, of course, was already fully convercent with the basic Tactical Response: "Observe, Evaluate, React". He had decided to mine the fringes, in the hopes of decimating our infrequent patrols.
So it was that, three hours after I had truly entered the "Twilight Zone" of Combat Vietnam, the man immediately behind me in the single-file formation that was Charley Company circumvating the Heart Shaped Woods raised his voice and one finger and said: "Excuse Me, Platoon Sergeant?"
Everyone in the range of his voice stopped, and I turned to see what he had to say.
"Uh, Sarge, I think I got caught up in something. I think it's a booby trap."
I moved back near his position 10 feet behind me, knelt to look at the ground where he was standing. Sure enough, there was a web of thin wire around his boots, a couple of strands tangled up in the laces of his combat boots. There was just enough of the wire (held 3" above the ground level so it would easily be caught by a slow-stepping infantry-man) which was obviously part of a booby-trap.
I carefully remove the wires from the trooper's boots, got him OUT of there, and then called for the Tiger Scout.
The Vietnames Chu Hoi took a look, said "yep, that's a booby trap", and told us to get out of the immediate area.
He set a Claymore Mine over the trap (apparently a three-some of American hand-granades with the trip-wires attached to the pull-pins) and blew it up from a safe distance. No obvious secondary explosions, but we couldn't find grenades later, so we assumed that they had exploded,
And yes, I found myself again clutching my St. Christopher Medal as if it were indeed a direct limk to God ... who knows He had not obviously andswered any of my prayers "directly", but I had indeed been very very fortunate this first day in the field.
--
A few m0nths later, I had become much more "comfortable" in the field, and much more confident of my ability to lead. We all looked out for each other, and as my platoon learned that I would look out for them, they assumed the responsibility for looking out for me, too.
After about five months, the silver chain on my St. Christopher Medal finally broke. I suppose it was, in part, because the web-harness for my equipment was sufficiently heavy that eventually the accumulated stress on the light chain overstressed the material. I was fortunate, though, that the medal itself got caught in the folds of my uniform and equipment, so I saved the most important part: the medal itself.
That night, one of my platoon showed me how to braid a boot-lace into a 'chain". I laced the center of the lace through the pierced ring of the medal, and created a 20" chain with the medal at the center. Then I put it around my neck, and one of the platoon members 'melted' the nylon lace with a butayne lighter, so there was no chance that it would fall off.
---
After a few months, I was eventually rotated to "the rear", which means I was reassigned to the administrative position of "Labor NCO" of the Headquarters Company of the 25th Infantry Division. (The 1ID had rotated out, leaving me to be assigned to a new division .. "Tropical Lightening".)
Life became delightfully boring from that point on. We had no attacks on the base on Cu Chi. I had been promised a post of Senior NCOIC at Division HQ, but that fell through. It was a matter of Tripical Low-Expectations for the rest of my tour. Showers every day, assigned to share a hooch with a guy who worked in what was essentally a "Human Resources" department (and if I ever get to hear from Gary Grant again, it would make my day!)
There were no drills, no emergencies, nobody was shooting at me and I even got a second bronze star ... as nearly as I can tell, because I didn't get shot. We had Philipino bands coming by every week to serenade us with their version of "Innagadda de Vida" and the most excitement came from (1) somebody got an aviation Parachute Flare and tried to disassemble it in their barracks, with the resulting spectatular pyrotechnics of the burning of the barracks; (2) There was an investigation of the tendency for Labor NCOs to bring vietnamese hookers on the base for the comfort of the troops; (3) the Division Top Sgt's hooch maid was found to be hooking all over the base, so the Labor NCO of HQ Division (who "took care" of the situation) was give a very good performance review by the HQ Company C.O. (who also had a "personal Hooch Maid"), and (4) there was not a single attach on the base during this period.
The only truly significant even was that, one week before I was scheduled to DEROS (Date Estimated Return from Over Seas), I was taking my daily shower and discovered that the St. Christopher Medal was no longer attached to my home-made Combat-Boot Lace Necklace.
I searched the entire shower area. Asked all of the troops and the Vietnames Laborers to be on the lookout for it. For four days, the business of the Headquarters Company of the 25th Infantry Division was distracted by the imperative to look for my Saint Christopher's Medal.
But to no avail ... I was never able to find, or cause to be found, the good-luck charm given to me by my sister, one year ago.
[Not that my sister had been lax in her attention: during the past year, she had arranged to have my combat platoon 'adopted' by her church youth group. so every man in the platoon received at least one letter per week during their period of service, and many of them received letters even after their DEROS; on Christmas of 1969, the church sent no less than 3 live Christmas Trees to the platoon, along with a 20' wide banner stating "WE LOVE YOU!" in bright red letters; and CARE packages containing food and other treats were regularly sent to my troops.]
Stull, when it came time for me to take that big silver bird back to The World, I no longer had my Saint Christopher Medal to keep me safe.
So I guess God decided I didn't need any "extra help" to get through the Bad Year. Except for one thing:
On the plane flight from Viet Nam to Oakland, California, the civilian staff of the commercial airline (United, if I recall correctly) broke up the monotony of the 9 hour flight between Tan Son Hut and Guam with a lottery. Every man on the plane contributed one dollar, and wrote his name of the bill. The stewardesses put them all in a big plastic bag, and drew the 'winning dollar' to see who got the contributions.
They drew my name.
One dollar invested, $85 returned .. no tax, no problems, it was all gravy. I bought my maximum amouth of duty-free booze at the Guam airport, and still had most of the winnings left to buy a room at Oakland the next night while I waited for my flight to Oregon.
I still had the bootlace necklace around my neck, and I caught myself grabbing for the medal even though it had been left behind in Vietnam.
Perhaps God decided I didn't need it any more. Or maybe it was all just superstition.
All I know is that it was a source of support, in a land where the only tangible support was the troops and support forces who never really knew who I was.
And perhaps it was all in my mind; I needed to believe that some greater power was watching over me.
The fact remains that I made it through a year in Viet Nam; a year which I never expected to survive. I was absolutely astounded when that Great Silver Bird lifted off the runway of Ton Son Hut Airbase without being downed by mortar fire.
So perhaps faith, or "Faith", has some power which I had never before (and never sence) acknowledged, or believed in.
On the other hand, I spent a significant amount if my Tour of Duty reaching for, or clutching the Saint Christopher Medal. I'm not going to say that it made a difference. I'm only going to say that I never had any true faith before, yet I went through firestorms, firefights, incoming shrapnell (both friendly and "otherwise"), misery and agony for 12 months. I saw friends and comrads die or become disabled by bullets, bombs and even a "Step-and-A-Half" viper ... but only one man under my direct command actually died.
The worst injury that I even encurred was Bamboo Poisoning, and the sorese finally cleared up about 8 years later. I can live with that.
I've never replaced that Saint Christopher Medal. In the past 40 years, I've never found myself in a situation where I needed one, as much as I did then.
Thank, Sis. I owe you one.
_________________________________________________
Update: March 8, 2011
Seems as if I'm not the only one to take such comfort "wherever we can find it".
I also got married.
Six days after my marriage, I reported to the Selective Service Induction Center in Portland, Oregon. I was assigned to the U.S. Army, and reported to Fort Lewis, Washington for Basic Training.
I spent three months in Basic, and another three months in Advanced Infantry School, all at Fort Lewis.
Then I was selected for Non Commissioned Officer School (NCOC) at Fort Benning, Georgia. This program, also known as "Instant NCO School", and "Shake 'n Bake", because it replaced years of experience normally required to achieve NCO status with a six-month program of intensive training and challenge, supposedly with the goal of providing needed SKILLS (note: not experience) required of a NCO.
I graduated in April of 1969 as an Honor Graduate (Staff Sergeant: grade E6) and immediately transferred to Fort Anniston, Alabama for On The Job (OJT) training. The duties there were to become a member of the training cadre at a Basic Training Company.
Having successfully completed the OJT portion of my NCO training, I was granted 3 months leave, which my wife and I used visiting friends and family between Alabama and Oregon.
In September, 1969, I reported to a Replacement and Transfer unit in Oakland, California, from which I was shipped (by air ... almost as Air Freight) to Vietnam. I was an 11B40 ... Infantry NCO.
Before I shipped out, my sister threw a "Going Away" party for me at her house in Eugene, Oregon. This was typified by heavy drinking and dancing, and my insistance upon constantly replaying "Vietnam Blues" (also known as "Feelin' Like I'm Fixin' to Die" by Country Joe and the Fish. )
Well, that was the feeling in the country when I was scheduled to report for duty in Viet Nam.
But my sister, bless her heart, would do everything she could think of to help me get through the war. Realistically, there wasn't much that she COULD do, but she reached deep into her faith and gave me the only shield available to her: a Saint Christopher Medal.
The Patron Saint of Travellers was as much as she could do at the time, so she gave me the medal on a silver chain and I was touched by her thoughtfulness.
I reported to the First Infantry Division, centerd at the Division Base in Dian, in III Corps, a few miles from Saigon.
After a week of "in country training", reviewing all of the tactics I had learned in Advanced Infantry and NCO school, I was assigned to 3rd Platoon, Lima Company, 1/16, 1ID. They needed a Platoon Sgt., and I was the closest to a "Platoon Sgt." available at the time. (This slot is usually assigned to an E7, but those "upper ranking" NCO's were usually assigned to positions such as Supply Sgt., Company First Sgt., and other essential positions.)
Knowing nothing about war except for what I had been told, I was choppered into my company Area of Responsibility near Thunder Road (Hiway 13) north and east of Saigon.
When I arrived at my Company Area "In the Rear", it was late in the afternoon, so I was given the rest of the day to get my gear squared away, draw ammunition, a weapon (M16A2), field gear (Alice Pack), rations and water. I was briefed on Division Policy ... which essentially was that they told me 1ID and 1/16 policy was that we worked as a company in the field, and existed on a light pack with 2-3 days rations and water with 'frequent' resupply by helicopters.
At 7am the next day, I was waiting at the chopper pad when a 3-bird "resupply flight" of Hueys landed to pick up ammo, water, C-rations and incidental "stuff". In fact, it wasn't until the end of the 30-minute flight that I learned I was to be inserted into a "Hot LZ" (Landing Zone), and the company was under fire from "unknown enemy forces". (That is, they didn't know if the North Vietnamese Army ... NVA ... or Viet Cong ... VC ... were shooting at them. Typically, they hadn't seen the enemy; they only knew that somebody was shooting at them.
This was typical of my entire tour of duty. We Deal in GHOSTS, Friend!
The chopper was loaded with a pilot and copilot, a Crew Chief and a Door Gunner, and a stack of C-ration cases four feet high and wide. The Door Gunner was chatty, and told me that his favorite sport was to machine-gun Water Buffalo in Rice paddies. (Was I on the wrong side here?)
As I was landed in a small clearing, it wan't until I jumped out of the door of the grounder chopper that I realized that I was hanging onto my M16 with one hand, and my St. Christopher Medal with the other.
It must have worked. As soon as we were re-supplied, we grabbed our still-boxed supplies and loaded onto another flight ... an eagle Flight this time (five choppers plus gunships for protection) and lifted out to another area ... the Heart Shaped woods.
I and the small group I was attached to were on the last of 3 flights to lift off. (It was a Company Size Operation .. one of the few where the entire company was involved in a single battle, during my entire tour of duty. At the time, I had no idea how unique and important this operation was.) Just before our choppers landed, one of the 5 men I was attached to declared that he thought the incoming fire was coming from a woodline across an open field from us. He was carring an M72 LAW (Light Anti-Tank Weapon ... a rocket in a disposable tube) and he was going to fire the LAW at the woodline just before the last chopppers landed. He was forbidden to fire the LAW without permission from a 'superior'. Having no desire to have our lift-off chopper be downed by enemy fire, I readily gave him permission! The rocket, having been fired, hit the base of the trees in the opposing woodline. I didn't understand how well-placed the shot was, until I much later tried to hit a woodline as commander of a tank.
We lifted off successfully, and in 20 minutes joined the rest of the company at our "cold" LZ in the Heart Shaped Woods ... another area where the VC was usually in command. We were lucky this time, not having taken fire upon landing. There I met the Company Commander and learned that his chopper (the one which had left our old position immediately before mine) had received fire upon extraction. He reported that several rounds impacted upon the floor of the cargo compartment, but had passed through without significant damage to the machinery and NO injuries to crew or cargo. The cargo, of course, was the CO and the HQ cadre.
The St. Christopher Mojo was apparently working for all of us.
When we landed and disembarked at our new LZ (cold), we first grabbed our resupply, then waded through a hip-deep swamp for about 50 yards. The 2nd Squad RTO (Radio Telephone Operator, or "Kilo") lost his SOI during the crossing. The SOI is Strategic Operational Information .. or the codebook to all of our radio callsigns, one-time codebook, and other highly secret information. We spent 10 minutes searching for the swamp and finaly the Company Commander (Captain Determan) made the call: if we couldnt' find it with a company of men searching for it, knowing that it was somewhere inside the 2-acre swamp, Charly was unlikely to happen upon it by accident.
Besides, if Charley was in the area he knew where we had landed, and an extended search would only draw his attention. That is, if we were obviously searching for 'something', then that 'something' would obviously be important to us. Charley would not quit searching until he found it. The codebook was "administratively" declared "irretreviably lost" and the search was abandoned.
We took our ration cased and 2-gallon water jugs to the opposite shore, and broke them down. That is, we uncrated the C-rations and distributed them, along with the water and the ammo and the sundaries packs and incidental resupply (some uniform parts and one pair of boots) and radio batteries among the company. Some of it was random and equal distribution; the battery packs went to the RTOs; the uniform replacements and the boots went to those company members who had reported uniform components which were too damaged and/or worn to be sufficient to their purpose. Curiously, this was the only time when I saw boots and uniforms replaced in the field. Apparently, it had been a hard campaign so far. I was grateful that I had missed the worst of it, and once again I realized that I was gripping my St. Christopher Medal.
We dug a fire pit wherein we dumped the unselected C-rations, along with the old radio batteries, and discarded uniform parts (trousers, blouses) and disintegrating Jungle Boots. We added a few quarter-pound segments of C4 explosives to provide initiating fire to the discards, and to provide sufficient heat so that the discarded C-ration tin cans would burst. We also included incidental discards .. jelly and peanut-butter tins, which were extremely flamable under the great head from the C4, and would add to the indendary nature of the fire.
Then we moved out, along the perimeter of the Heart Shaped Woods.
It's worth noting that the Heart Shaped Woods was actually a several-acre area populated by chest-high brush. It was impossible to move through, except for a few animal-created trails. The general consensus was that ALL of the trails were mined and /or booby-trapped, which was the reason why Charley owned the area, and we avoided any attempts to cross it. The 1ID burned the woods occasionally, but that only made the next growth richer, taller and thicker. Recent division policy, I learned, was to avoid passing through or attempting to irradicate the intrinsic cover and concealment afforded to Charley (VC -- Viet Cong or "Victor Charley"). Instead, we would patrol the fringes from time to time, and if Charley chose to engage American Troops. we would call in artillary and/or Air Support and eradicate the woods. And Charley. With no expectation thta we could win and "own" the Heart Shaped Woods.
In the meantime, we were content to patrol the fringes, at irregualr intervals, as the mood struck our commanders.
Observant Charley, of course, was already fully convercent with the basic Tactical Response: "Observe, Evaluate, React". He had decided to mine the fringes, in the hopes of decimating our infrequent patrols.
So it was that, three hours after I had truly entered the "Twilight Zone" of Combat Vietnam, the man immediately behind me in the single-file formation that was Charley Company circumvating the Heart Shaped Woods raised his voice and one finger and said: "Excuse Me, Platoon Sergeant?"
Everyone in the range of his voice stopped, and I turned to see what he had to say.
"Uh, Sarge, I think I got caught up in something. I think it's a booby trap."
I moved back near his position 10 feet behind me, knelt to look at the ground where he was standing. Sure enough, there was a web of thin wire around his boots, a couple of strands tangled up in the laces of his combat boots. There was just enough of the wire (held 3" above the ground level so it would easily be caught by a slow-stepping infantry-man) which was obviously part of a booby-trap.
I carefully remove the wires from the trooper's boots, got him OUT of there, and then called for the Tiger Scout.
The Vietnames Chu Hoi took a look, said "yep, that's a booby trap", and told us to get out of the immediate area.
He set a Claymore Mine over the trap (apparently a three-some of American hand-granades with the trip-wires attached to the pull-pins) and blew it up from a safe distance. No obvious secondary explosions, but we couldn't find grenades later, so we assumed that they had exploded,
And yes, I found myself again clutching my St. Christopher Medal as if it were indeed a direct limk to God ... who knows He had not obviously andswered any of my prayers "directly", but I had indeed been very very fortunate this first day in the field.
--
A few m0nths later, I had become much more "comfortable" in the field, and much more confident of my ability to lead. We all looked out for each other, and as my platoon learned that I would look out for them, they assumed the responsibility for looking out for me, too.
After about five months, the silver chain on my St. Christopher Medal finally broke. I suppose it was, in part, because the web-harness for my equipment was sufficiently heavy that eventually the accumulated stress on the light chain overstressed the material. I was fortunate, though, that the medal itself got caught in the folds of my uniform and equipment, so I saved the most important part: the medal itself.
That night, one of my platoon showed me how to braid a boot-lace into a 'chain". I laced the center of the lace through the pierced ring of the medal, and created a 20" chain with the medal at the center. Then I put it around my neck, and one of the platoon members 'melted' the nylon lace with a butayne lighter, so there was no chance that it would fall off.
---
After a few months, I was eventually rotated to "the rear", which means I was reassigned to the administrative position of "Labor NCO" of the Headquarters Company of the 25th Infantry Division. (The 1ID had rotated out, leaving me to be assigned to a new division .. "Tropical Lightening".)
Life became delightfully boring from that point on. We had no attacks on the base on Cu Chi. I had been promised a post of Senior NCOIC at Division HQ, but that fell through. It was a matter of Tripical Low-Expectations for the rest of my tour. Showers every day, assigned to share a hooch with a guy who worked in what was essentally a "Human Resources" department (and if I ever get to hear from Gary Grant again, it would make my day!)
There were no drills, no emergencies, nobody was shooting at me and I even got a second bronze star ... as nearly as I can tell, because I didn't get shot. We had Philipino bands coming by every week to serenade us with their version of "Innagadda de Vida" and the most excitement came from (1) somebody got an aviation Parachute Flare and tried to disassemble it in their barracks, with the resulting spectatular pyrotechnics of the burning of the barracks; (2) There was an investigation of the tendency for Labor NCOs to bring vietnamese hookers on the base for the comfort of the troops; (3) the Division Top Sgt's hooch maid was found to be hooking all over the base, so the Labor NCO of HQ Division (who "took care" of the situation) was give a very good performance review by the HQ Company C.O. (who also had a "personal Hooch Maid"), and (4) there was not a single attach on the base during this period.
The only truly significant even was that, one week before I was scheduled to DEROS (Date Estimated Return from Over Seas), I was taking my daily shower and discovered that the St. Christopher Medal was no longer attached to my home-made Combat-Boot Lace Necklace.
I searched the entire shower area. Asked all of the troops and the Vietnames Laborers to be on the lookout for it. For four days, the business of the Headquarters Company of the 25th Infantry Division was distracted by the imperative to look for my Saint Christopher's Medal.
But to no avail ... I was never able to find, or cause to be found, the good-luck charm given to me by my sister, one year ago.
[Not that my sister had been lax in her attention: during the past year, she had arranged to have my combat platoon 'adopted' by her church youth group. so every man in the platoon received at least one letter per week during their period of service, and many of them received letters even after their DEROS; on Christmas of 1969, the church sent no less than 3 live Christmas Trees to the platoon, along with a 20' wide banner stating "WE LOVE YOU!" in bright red letters; and CARE packages containing food and other treats were regularly sent to my troops.]
Stull, when it came time for me to take that big silver bird back to The World, I no longer had my Saint Christopher Medal to keep me safe.
So I guess God decided I didn't need any "extra help" to get through the Bad Year. Except for one thing:
On the plane flight from Viet Nam to Oakland, California, the civilian staff of the commercial airline (United, if I recall correctly) broke up the monotony of the 9 hour flight between Tan Son Hut and Guam with a lottery. Every man on the plane contributed one dollar, and wrote his name of the bill. The stewardesses put them all in a big plastic bag, and drew the 'winning dollar' to see who got the contributions.
They drew my name.
One dollar invested, $85 returned .. no tax, no problems, it was all gravy. I bought my maximum amouth of duty-free booze at the Guam airport, and still had most of the winnings left to buy a room at Oakland the next night while I waited for my flight to Oregon.
I still had the bootlace necklace around my neck, and I caught myself grabbing for the medal even though it had been left behind in Vietnam.
Perhaps God decided I didn't need it any more. Or maybe it was all just superstition.
All I know is that it was a source of support, in a land where the only tangible support was the troops and support forces who never really knew who I was.
And perhaps it was all in my mind; I needed to believe that some greater power was watching over me.
The fact remains that I made it through a year in Viet Nam; a year which I never expected to survive. I was absolutely astounded when that Great Silver Bird lifted off the runway of Ton Son Hut Airbase without being downed by mortar fire.
So perhaps faith, or "Faith", has some power which I had never before (and never sence) acknowledged, or believed in.
On the other hand, I spent a significant amount if my Tour of Duty reaching for, or clutching the Saint Christopher Medal. I'm not going to say that it made a difference. I'm only going to say that I never had any true faith before, yet I went through firestorms, firefights, incoming shrapnell (both friendly and "otherwise"), misery and agony for 12 months. I saw friends and comrads die or become disabled by bullets, bombs and even a "Step-and-A-Half" viper ... but only one man under my direct command actually died.
The worst injury that I even encurred was Bamboo Poisoning, and the sorese finally cleared up about 8 years later. I can live with that.
I've never replaced that Saint Christopher Medal. In the past 40 years, I've never found myself in a situation where I needed one, as much as I did then.
Thank, Sis. I owe you one.
_________________________________________________
Update: March 8, 2011
Seems as if I'm not the only one to take such comfort "wherever we can find it".
Friday, March 04, 2011
Blog: "Squeal Like A Piggy!"
From Yesterday's Comments:
Bob Harrison:
My response:
My apologies to readers who have encountered the same problem, and have not reported it. As I said, I have noticed that, but I discounted the phenomena as a Firefox problem, and ignored it. Now that I know it's not something that only I have noted, I can take steps to resolve the problem.
And if YOU see any other problems with the blog, I encourage you to let me know so I can take steps to resolve the issue(s).
Bob Harrison:
Has your blog site been taken over by a malovent bug? It keeps flipping over to an advert to some 2d Amendement advertiser. It will do this 3 or 4 times in a row. Very annoying.
My response:
I installed the newest version of Mozilla Firefox last night. I now
cannot use Firefox as my browser ... it locks up. Look forward to my
re-intalling the old version Real Soon Now.
However, I've also
encountered the same problem in IE, which is related to the "RING" network to which I have subscribed for some 3 years. Recently, I've experienced the same problem, even in the old Firefox.
The solution is to use the back-button, which will take you back to the Geek Screen you started on. I've not seen it re-occur after that.
I agree, this is a bug and a particularly obnioxious one, at that.
My plan is to contact the ring-net sponsor and complain. Then to discontinue my membership, "anyway". It was originally intended to provide readers with a simple way to view other 2nd-amendment and shooting-oriented websites even though I had not included the link in my sidebar. It is no longer serving the original purpose because, as you have described, it takes you to a new webpage whether you wish or not.
Just between you and me, I think it's a Liberal conspiracy.
My apologies to readers who have encountered the same problem, and have not reported it. As I said, I have noticed that, but I discounted the phenomena as a Firefox problem, and ignored it. Now that I know it's not something that only I have noted, I can take steps to resolve the problem.
And if YOU see any other problems with the blog, I encourage you to let me know so I can take steps to resolve the issue(s).
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Crazy Tank Runaway
YouTube - Worlds Wildest Police Videos - Crazy Tank Runaway
In this video, a drunk steals a tank and goes on a "walk-about" through San Diego.
This is what tanks look like, and this is just a minor perspective on what tanks can do.
They're big, they're loud, they're powerful, they're scary (on both sides of the armor plate). They're a rolling pill-box. A man with a gun has NO defense against them.
On the other hand, they're fragile; they're so complicated to operate that one would find their operation is not intuitively obvious.
Segue, Vietnam, September 1969 - September 1970. You are there.
Or at least, I am.
I do remember working with a Tank Squadron (3/4 11th ACR ... Armored Calvary Regiment) while I was serving as an infantry Platoon Sgt with the 1st ID. Later, about halfway through my tour, the 1ID returned to the U.S. Since I had only half my tour completed, I was reassigned to the 25th Infantry Division ("Tropical Lightening").
The 25ID didn't know what to do with me. Since I was an E6 (Staff Sgt) they decided to try me in the only open slot available to my rank; tank commander.
I had ridden on tanks and worked with tankers for much of the tour so far, but I had no idea how to use a tank except as support to Infantry operations.
I lasted one day as a tank commander.
On the first day, I was briefed by my tank crew in Tanker Operations. The crew included me as TC, a Gunner, and a Driver. Either of the other two guys knew more than I would ever know about tanks, so they gave me instructions:
"Here is your helmet. It's connected by the radio on squadron frequency, and by intercom. Push forward on the helmet-control to talk on the intercom, push backward to talk on the radio."
Or was it the other way around. I never could remember.
They also gave me one more important set of instructions:
"As the Tank Commander, you will ride in the turret. Oh, and this grip-lever in the TC position? It fires the Main Gun. Whatever you do, don't touch it!"
We drove around for a half-day with the rest of the squadron, and then the Squadron Commander decided (I assume) to see how well I functioned as a TC. Either that, or he was just bored and wanted to have some fun.
I received a call to fire on the woodline to the right, which was suspected of harboring VC ... or so he said.
Not being entirely stupid, I had the driver stop, and face right.
Being just stupid enough not to ask the obvious questions (How do you aim the gun from the TC Cupola?), I just ... lowered the gun to what I thought might possibly be the appropriate elevation, ensured by sight that the gun was pointing in the general direction of the woodline, and touched it off.
BOOM!
Oh wow, that is SO awesome!
You have never lived until you have been entirely certain that you have the equivalent of the Biggest Gun in the Hood!
Unfortunately, I was aimed just a little bit high. The target was about 200 yards away. I absolutely devastated the very tops of the trees.
The Squadron Commander said: "Nice job, you killed a bunch of trees. No VC in there".
I replied: "I'm Infantry. Beg to report, no snipers remain in those trees!"
On the other hand, I probably pushed the push-to-talk switch the wrong way, so I'm not sure if the Squadron commander heard my smart-mouth reply, but I'm pretty sure my "crew" did.
Fortunately, later in the day my tank was down-graded for a bad road-wheel. We went back to the camp and we started to replace the road-wheel, which was estimated to take 3-4 days.
I am sure the road wheel was bad. I'm pretty sure the Squadron Commander didn't just decide his squadron was safer without Sgt. Geek commanding one of his tanks.
Since I know nothing about tanks, and I am not mechanically inclined, I made a deal with the crew. They would do the work, and I would stand permanent watch. Which means that I slept in the day (for the next 3 days), and they sleep at night while I stood their watch on the Berm in the Night Defensive Position (NDP).
When the tank was repaired, I was reassigned.
They got a bunch of other infantry guys from 1ID-to-25ID transfer, and they had us assigned as "ride-alongs". When the tanks would Lager Up, my squad of infantry "attached" would go out and set up booby-traps on the likely avenues of approach.
I liked booby traps, but they didn't have sufficient materials (a plastic spoon and a clothes-pin, if it matters) to build the Good Kind of initiators. So I had to use the "two pieces of copper wire with a slip-joint", which was the Not So Good Kind of initiators.
The idea was, when someone walking down the trail hit the tripwire, it pulled the bare-wire loop of one wire (the wires were insulated; the loops were bare) to the bare-wire loop of the other wire. The insulated part of the wires were inserted through the bare-wire loops of each wire, and it was a loose slip-joint which was VERY easy to slide together. When the bare-wire loops came in contact the circuit was complete and the Claymore mines blew the heck up .. big-time!
It's not worth the effort to illustrate, and I know it's not intrinsically obvious. Just assume that the Good Kind was fairly fool-proof and required a POSITIVE pull on the trip-wire; the Not-So-Good Kind was very fragile, and subject to the effects of wind and gravity. Far from my first choice, but one must when the Devil drives.
On the 3rd night I set up a two-claymore mine trap on a major trail, and hid the initiator in the bushes. An hour after I set it up, the wind came up and started blowing the bushes around ... which touched off the initiator.
KaBOOM!
"Sorry, guys. Too dark to set up another booby trap. We'll just go 100% alert for tonite okay? Go ahead and sack out on your usual watch rota, we'll just set up an ambush along the trail. If you hear firing in the night, check in with me before you start shooting main guns along the trail, please."
We got through that night without any problems (eg: no attacks), and the next day they assigned me as Labor NCO to the 25th Infantry Division Headquarters at Cu Chi.
I spent the rest of my tour as "Labor NCO" in the 25ID HQ company hiring Vietmese girls to clean hooches for officers and NCO's in the company, and never went into the field again. Which is a whole other story.
But here's the point of this story:
I never knew for sure what model tank we were working with, but for 40 years I've been curious.
I thought they were Sheridans, but that would have made them the M551 Sheridan .. but the gun is too stubby, it's now that I remember.
I thought they were M60's, would have made them the M60 variant of the Patton tank. Looks right, gun is right. But only a few of them were assigned in Vietnam. Yes, some to the 11ACR (Eleventh Armored Regiment, "Blackhorse"), but I gather only in 1/1 11ACR, which was outside our area. We worked with the 3/4 11ACR.
I've decided that these were probably M48 Patton Tanks, with the 105mm main gun, which sounds about right. (Yes, I think I recall that the barrel had a flash-hider attachment.)
Understanding that this all happened over 40 years ago, I'm just wondering if there is a reader who can definitively state what version of tank we may have been using, at that place, at that time.
Anyone? Show of hands, please?
In this video, a drunk steals a tank and goes on a "walk-about" through San Diego.
This is what tanks look like, and this is just a minor perspective on what tanks can do.
They're big, they're loud, they're powerful, they're scary (on both sides of the armor plate). They're a rolling pill-box. A man with a gun has NO defense against them.
On the other hand, they're fragile; they're so complicated to operate that one would find their operation is not intuitively obvious.
Segue, Vietnam, September 1969 - September 1970. You are there.
Or at least, I am.
I do remember working with a Tank Squadron (3/4 11th ACR ... Armored Calvary Regiment) while I was serving as an infantry Platoon Sgt with the 1st ID. Later, about halfway through my tour, the 1ID returned to the U.S. Since I had only half my tour completed, I was reassigned to the 25th Infantry Division ("Tropical Lightening").
The 25ID didn't know what to do with me. Since I was an E6 (Staff Sgt) they decided to try me in the only open slot available to my rank; tank commander.
I had ridden on tanks and worked with tankers for much of the tour so far, but I had no idea how to use a tank except as support to Infantry operations.
I lasted one day as a tank commander.
On the first day, I was briefed by my tank crew in Tanker Operations. The crew included me as TC, a Gunner, and a Driver. Either of the other two guys knew more than I would ever know about tanks, so they gave me instructions:
"Here is your helmet. It's connected by the radio on squadron frequency, and by intercom. Push forward on the helmet-control to talk on the intercom, push backward to talk on the radio."
Or was it the other way around. I never could remember.
They also gave me one more important set of instructions:
"As the Tank Commander, you will ride in the turret. Oh, and this grip-lever in the TC position? It fires the Main Gun. Whatever you do, don't touch it!"
We drove around for a half-day with the rest of the squadron, and then the Squadron Commander decided (I assume) to see how well I functioned as a TC. Either that, or he was just bored and wanted to have some fun.
I received a call to fire on the woodline to the right, which was suspected of harboring VC ... or so he said.
Not being entirely stupid, I had the driver stop, and face right.
Being just stupid enough not to ask the obvious questions (How do you aim the gun from the TC Cupola?), I just ... lowered the gun to what I thought might possibly be the appropriate elevation, ensured by sight that the gun was pointing in the general direction of the woodline, and touched it off.
BOOM!
Oh wow, that is SO awesome!
You have never lived until you have been entirely certain that you have the equivalent of the Biggest Gun in the Hood!
Unfortunately, I was aimed just a little bit high. The target was about 200 yards away. I absolutely devastated the very tops of the trees.
The Squadron Commander said: "Nice job, you killed a bunch of trees. No VC in there".
I replied: "I'm Infantry. Beg to report, no snipers remain in those trees!"
On the other hand, I probably pushed the push-to-talk switch the wrong way, so I'm not sure if the Squadron commander heard my smart-mouth reply, but I'm pretty sure my "crew" did.
Fortunately, later in the day my tank was down-graded for a bad road-wheel. We went back to the camp and we started to replace the road-wheel, which was estimated to take 3-4 days.
I am sure the road wheel was bad. I'm pretty sure the Squadron Commander didn't just decide his squadron was safer without Sgt. Geek commanding one of his tanks.
Since I know nothing about tanks, and I am not mechanically inclined, I made a deal with the crew. They would do the work, and I would stand permanent watch. Which means that I slept in the day (for the next 3 days), and they sleep at night while I stood their watch on the Berm in the Night Defensive Position (NDP).
When the tank was repaired, I was reassigned.
They got a bunch of other infantry guys from 1ID-to-25ID transfer, and they had us assigned as "ride-alongs". When the tanks would Lager Up, my squad of infantry "attached" would go out and set up booby-traps on the likely avenues of approach.
I liked booby traps, but they didn't have sufficient materials (a plastic spoon and a clothes-pin, if it matters) to build the Good Kind of initiators. So I had to use the "two pieces of copper wire with a slip-joint", which was the Not So Good Kind of initiators.
The idea was, when someone walking down the trail hit the tripwire, it pulled the bare-wire loop of one wire (the wires were insulated; the loops were bare) to the bare-wire loop of the other wire. The insulated part of the wires were inserted through the bare-wire loops of each wire, and it was a loose slip-joint which was VERY easy to slide together. When the bare-wire loops came in contact the circuit was complete and the Claymore mines blew the heck up .. big-time!
It's not worth the effort to illustrate, and I know it's not intrinsically obvious. Just assume that the Good Kind was fairly fool-proof and required a POSITIVE pull on the trip-wire; the Not-So-Good Kind was very fragile, and subject to the effects of wind and gravity. Far from my first choice, but one must when the Devil drives.
On the 3rd night I set up a two-claymore mine trap on a major trail, and hid the initiator in the bushes. An hour after I set it up, the wind came up and started blowing the bushes around ... which touched off the initiator.
KaBOOM!
"Sorry, guys. Too dark to set up another booby trap. We'll just go 100% alert for tonite okay? Go ahead and sack out on your usual watch rota, we'll just set up an ambush along the trail. If you hear firing in the night, check in with me before you start shooting main guns along the trail, please."
We got through that night without any problems (eg: no attacks), and the next day they assigned me as Labor NCO to the 25th Infantry Division Headquarters at Cu Chi.
I spent the rest of my tour as "Labor NCO" in the 25ID HQ company hiring Vietmese girls to clean hooches for officers and NCO's in the company, and never went into the field again. Which is a whole other story.
But here's the point of this story:
I never knew for sure what model tank we were working with, but for 40 years I've been curious.
I thought they were Sheridans, but that would have made them the M551 Sheridan .. but the gun is too stubby, it's now that I remember.
I thought they were M60's, would have made them the M60 variant of the Patton tank. Looks right, gun is right. But only a few of them were assigned in Vietnam. Yes, some to the 11ACR (Eleventh Armored Regiment, "Blackhorse"), but I gather only in 1/1 11ACR, which was outside our area. We worked with the 3/4 11ACR.
I've decided that these were probably M48 Patton Tanks, with the 105mm main gun, which sounds about right. (Yes, I think I recall that the barrel had a flash-hider attachment.)Understanding that this all happened over 40 years ago, I'm just wondering if there is a reader who can definitively state what version of tank we may have been using, at that place, at that time.
Anyone? Show of hands, please?
Sunday, February 27, 2011
President Reagan's State of the Union Speech - 2/18/81
YouTube - State of the Union: President Reagan's State of the Union Speech - 2/18/81
Now, THAT'S a State of the Union message.
Why haven't we heard this ... or something like this ..... lately"
Now, THAT'S a State of the Union message.
Why haven't we heard this ... or something like this ..... lately"
Jury Nullification Advocate With Court Pulpit Charged - NYTimes.com
Jury Nullification Advocate With Court Pulpit Charged - NYTimes.com
I'm not The Only One talking about Jury Nullification.
A 78 year old man in New Jersey (where else?) is on trial for his attempts to pass out pamphlets on the concept in front of a courthouse. The judge contends he's trying to sway juries. The Defendant says he's just trying to education The People, and was only "... hoping that jurors are among them."
(In case I haven't made it completely clear ... see the link above ... H/T to David Codrea at "The War On guns".)
I'm not The Only One talking about Jury Nullification.
A 78 year old man in New Jersey (where else?) is on trial for his attempts to pass out pamphlets on the concept in front of a courthouse. The judge contends he's trying to sway juries. The Defendant says he's just trying to education The People, and was only "... hoping that jurors are among them."
(In case I haven't made it completely clear ... see the link above ... H/T to David Codrea at "The War On guns".)
Thursday, February 24, 2011
ADZ: No Opinion, Please!
The Smallest Minority: Damned Little Linky, No Thinky
Quote from the Arizona Daily Star (February 20, 2011)
[sigh]
Once again, Kevin Baker of "The Smallest Minority" has posted a 2-RKBA topic which is rife ... RIFE, I say! .. with meaty juices of Second Amendment Controversy.
The ADS (Arizona Daily Star ... derogatorily referred to in the comments as "The Red Star") has introduced a 'series of articles' designed to 'explore' the intricacies of the Second Amendment.
Curiously. the subjects selected by ADS seem focused on two issues: the ability of "crazy people' to buy guns (and ammunition, and magazines); and the types of guns and magazines 'anybody' can legally purchase. It kind of sounds like the same thing, doesn't it? And when you read the opinion piece, they sort of sound ... against ... the Second Amendment, don't they?
Although the exemplars in the article focus on mass-murder by gun and are related by a single focus -- arguably crazy people who shoot a lot of innocents --- and although the NCIS system already uses the force of existing law to weed out firearms purchases by 'arguably crazy people who are likely to shoot a lot of innocents', the ADS jumps right into the issues with both feet.
As long, that is, as the "issues" include 'high-capacity magazines' and guns that have 'no legitimate use' or purpose other than to kill a lot of innocent people, really quickly.
The introductory article pays lip-service to the Right to Keep and Bear Arms, but immediately undermines its presumed objectivity by defining the questions it has decided to 'explore'.
As Baker suggests, read the comments. It's very clear that the folks who actually have to LIVE in Arizona (what was the name of the DOONSBURY character who was always working on his tan .. Zonker Harris? Who else would choose to reside in the Grand Canyon State?) don't always agree with it's editorial bias. And of course, 95% of the time the comments are meatiest part of any internet newspaper article. (The exception is Florida, where the commenters are the looniest people who can type, in the whole world. Arizona and Florida should trade nicknames; Arizona should be "The Sunshine State", and Florida should be either "The Loony State", or "The Where Old People Go To Die State". But I digress.)
Personally, I have always enjoyed reading the ADS; the articles are generally well-crafted, and it usually selects an interesting mix of subject matter for both local and national audiences.
Until this opinion article appeared, and it undermined my previous high opinion of the rag.
On the other hand, I note that there are a number of entertainers whose performances I have always enjoyed, in their chosen milieu; but I deplore and detest their political views. I wish they would just, as the saying goes, "Shut Up And Sing".
A small sampling of these ignorant but gifted entertainers:
The fact remains, the ADS is just another 'entity' which I enjoy; but they should really, really avoid offering their opinions in public.
It's unseemly.
And stupid.
Like ... Alec Baldwin
Quote from the Arizona Daily Star (February 20, 2011)
We hope you'll try to set aside your most fervent emotions about guns in America and join us in considering the issue dispassionately, with the goal of finding answers that protect both our freedom and our public safety.
Arizona Daily Star
The Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." (Ratified 1791)
[sigh]
Once again, Kevin Baker of "The Smallest Minority" has posted a 2-RKBA topic which is rife ... RIFE, I say! .. with meaty juices of Second Amendment Controversy.
The ADS (Arizona Daily Star ... derogatorily referred to in the comments as "The Red Star") has introduced a 'series of articles' designed to 'explore' the intricacies of the Second Amendment.
Curiously. the subjects selected by ADS seem focused on two issues: the ability of "crazy people' to buy guns (and ammunition, and magazines); and the types of guns and magazines 'anybody' can legally purchase. It kind of sounds like the same thing, doesn't it? And when you read the opinion piece, they sort of sound ... against ... the Second Amendment, don't they?
Although the exemplars in the article focus on mass-murder by gun and are related by a single focus -- arguably crazy people who shoot a lot of innocents --- and although the NCIS system already uses the force of existing law to weed out firearms purchases by 'arguably crazy people who are likely to shoot a lot of innocents', the ADS jumps right into the issues with both feet.
As long, that is, as the "issues" include 'high-capacity magazines' and guns that have 'no legitimate use' or purpose other than to kill a lot of innocent people, really quickly.
The introductory article pays lip-service to the Right to Keep and Bear Arms, but immediately undermines its presumed objectivity by defining the questions it has decided to 'explore'.
As Baker suggests, read the comments. It's very clear that the folks who actually have to LIVE in Arizona (what was the name of the DOONSBURY character who was always working on his tan .. Zonker Harris? Who else would choose to reside in the Grand Canyon State?) don't always agree with it's editorial bias. And of course, 95% of the time the comments are meatiest part of any internet newspaper article. (The exception is Florida, where the commenters are the looniest people who can type, in the whole world. Arizona and Florida should trade nicknames; Arizona should be "The Sunshine State", and Florida should be either "The Loony State", or "The Where Old People Go To Die State". But I digress.)
Personally, I have always enjoyed reading the ADS; the articles are generally well-crafted, and it usually selects an interesting mix of subject matter for both local and national audiences.
Until this opinion article appeared, and it undermined my previous high opinion of the rag.
On the other hand, I note that there are a number of entertainers whose performances I have always enjoyed, in their chosen milieu; but I deplore and detest their political views. I wish they would just, as the saying goes, "Shut Up And Sing".
A small sampling of these ignorant but gifted entertainers:
- Barbra Streisand
- Bette Midler
- Alec Bladwin
The fact remains, the ADS is just another 'entity' which I enjoy; but they should really, really avoid offering their opinions in public.
It's unseemly.
And stupid.
Like ... Alec Baldwin
Dundee Match Cancelled - Feb 26, 2011
Global Warming Deniers -- be warned!
Resistance is Futile! You Will be Assimilated!
Email received this afternoon from "Evil Bill", Match Director at the planned USPSA match 2/26/2011 at Dundee:
As of this afternoon there was snow cover in all the bays at Dundee. Saturday morning's low temperature is forecast at 15 degrees, with a wind chill of near zero. Slick bays, slick roads, bitter cold, and no placeat Dundee to get out of the cold---I'm going to cancel the match for reasons of safety.
Bill
I think this is a good idea, considering the steep hills which surround the Dundee range and the forecasts for snow (and possibly icy roads due to daytime warming).
Through the years I've proudly announced to people who ask "do you shoot in the rain?" that in all my years of competition, I've only seen ONE match canceled because of the weather; that was when the road was icy and the Stats Mistress at TCGC couldn't get up the hill to the range because it was too slippery".
Actually, Mike McCarter 'called' a match a couple of years ago at ARPC, because of the danger of ice on the freeway. That makes two.
This year we have had two cancellations due to unsafe road conditions.
Hmmm ... that "Global Warming" thingie isn't working too good for us.
I've got it! We'll call it "Climate Change!" That way, no matter what happens, we're covered.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Government Cost Calculator
MyGovCost | Government Cost Calculator
I don't recommend this as a legitimate "Government Cost Calculator". For one thing it makes the assumption that your future income (and tax rate) will be "similar" to your current income. As I'm retiring in TWO months, that is plainly not so.
What it DOES do, is break your tax burden down into various categories: military, transportation, medicare/medicaid, etc. If they have been honest in their algorithm ... note that there's no reason to expect that they ARE honest, but let us give them the benefit of the doubt ... it may serve to provide some insight on what proportion of your taxes go to which program(s).
So take a look at it. I was surprised at the disproportionate ratio between, say, "Military" and "Education".
I don't recommend this as a legitimate "Government Cost Calculator". For one thing it makes the assumption that your future income (and tax rate) will be "similar" to your current income. As I'm retiring in TWO months, that is plainly not so.
What it DOES do, is break your tax burden down into various categories: military, transportation, medicare/medicaid, etc. If they have been honest in their algorithm ... note that there's no reason to expect that they ARE honest, but let us give them the benefit of the doubt ... it may serve to provide some insight on what proportion of your taxes go to which program(s).
So take a look at it. I was surprised at the disproportionate ratio between, say, "Military" and "Education".
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Tax Man Cometh: Getting Old is Hard To Do
Yeah, I paid my 2010 Taxes tonite. Took me about 90 minutes using Turbo-Tax.
I've been using that software for about 4-5 years now, and if you think you should try it then you should know that the Federal Tax Return is "FREE", and the state tax return costs you about $30.
Except, the Federal Tax Return can cost you an extra $30, if you accept the "deluxe" version. But that is not intuitive, the way it's presented, nor is the difference between the "FREE" version and the deluxe version.
I have a very simple tax situation: I don't owe anyone, they don't owe me. I don't own a house, or have deductions of ANY kind (except Standard Deduction). No dependents, property deductions, charitable deductions or medical deductions to speak of (certainly none to the degree which would be worth the effort to claim, summarize or document). If I were doing my tax returns manually, I would be using the 1040EZ form. Instead, Turbo-Tax put me on the 1040A form, and it was more of a nuisance because I had to complete a lot of form pages which necessitated saying "NO" or "Not Applicable" on every item.
I can't complain (although I will); I was tired when I started filling out the forms and responding to the questions, so I accepted the "DELUXE" version of the form, when I really should not have.
I like Turbo-Tax, except that they throw in complexities which the novice or the unwary (such as me) can easily trip over, and cost more money than they are worth.
If you decide to download and use Turbo-Tax, you should be careful that you understand what the alternatives mean to your particular tax situation. If I had any of the deductions listed on form 1040A, I would probably have saved myself money.
As it is, it cost more than I had expected. I can't blame anyone but myself, because by the time I realized I was obliged to pay them an extra $30 for the Deluxe version, I was so tired of the exercise that I thought ... "just pay the money, and get it over with".
Yes, I got a return, in both Federal and .. a surprise to me ... State taxes. This is not due to clever manipulation of the tax laws. It's due to the fact that I worked about 10 months of the year, rather than 12 months. Between my absences from work due to illness, stress, need to tend to SWMBO and not showing up at work at ALL during the month of December (after SWMBO died on 11/28), I not only maxed out my sick leave, my vacation leave, and my personal time ... I had at least 60 days of unpaid leave.
No, that's nobody's fault than my own. I could have worked, in a manner of speaking. But it was my choice not to work.
Ultimately, when I get more than a couple of hundred buck back on my Federal and State income tax combined, it's a sign that I would have more money in the bank at the end of the year if I had been able to work as many hours as I should have.
That hasn't happened for the past couple of years.
There is a tendency to view returned taxes as "found money", or a "windfall", but that's not a legitimate evaluation.
What I like is the years when I make much more money than I did the last year. Paying taxes is a pain, but knowing that I made so much money is, although difficult when April 15 comes around, kind of a milestone. It's good to make more money than you expected. It's bad when you make less, because when you compare the two situations, you end up with less money in the bank.
Some of the return (about 25%) is due to the fact that I turned 65 last year. Monetarily, that's a benefit.
But practically speaking, it means more illness and less work time; the time I spent out of the office, compared to the time when I could have been compensated (by "Sick Leave" and "Vacation Leave" combined) ... the deduction level is not equivalent to the salary that I lost.
Just saying ... getting old is even worse monetarily than the added aches and pains.
Look forward to my "Tax Man Cometh" article next year, when I pay taxes on Social Security AND the part-time job I'm going to have to find, to make ends meet.
NOTE:
I announced to my co-workers last week that I was retiring. They all send me replies of congratulations, as if I was likely to enter into an era of comfort and no-cares.
Very nice of them, but I would rather have worked another four years. My pension may not have been a lot bigger, but the Social Security dividend would have been worth another thousand dollars a month.
I should live so long.
The good news is: my Social Security monthly dividend for working until I am 66, instead of retiring at age 65, was worth an extra $41/month.
The bad news is: I'm pretty sure that there will come a time when that extra $41/month may make the difference between eating tuna versus cat food for dinner.
And isn't THAT a fine state of affairs?
(Sorry for the negativity. It has been a long day. I'm pretty sure I'll feel better in the morning.)
I've been using that software for about 4-5 years now, and if you think you should try it then you should know that the Federal Tax Return is "FREE", and the state tax return costs you about $30.
Except, the Federal Tax Return can cost you an extra $30, if you accept the "deluxe" version. But that is not intuitive, the way it's presented, nor is the difference between the "FREE" version and the deluxe version.
I have a very simple tax situation: I don't owe anyone, they don't owe me. I don't own a house, or have deductions of ANY kind (except Standard Deduction). No dependents, property deductions, charitable deductions or medical deductions to speak of (certainly none to the degree which would be worth the effort to claim, summarize or document). If I were doing my tax returns manually, I would be using the 1040EZ form. Instead, Turbo-Tax put me on the 1040A form, and it was more of a nuisance because I had to complete a lot of form pages which necessitated saying "NO" or "Not Applicable" on every item.
I can't complain (although I will); I was tired when I started filling out the forms and responding to the questions, so I accepted the "DELUXE" version of the form, when I really should not have.
I like Turbo-Tax, except that they throw in complexities which the novice or the unwary (such as me) can easily trip over, and cost more money than they are worth.
If you decide to download and use Turbo-Tax, you should be careful that you understand what the alternatives mean to your particular tax situation. If I had any of the deductions listed on form 1040A, I would probably have saved myself money.
As it is, it cost more than I had expected. I can't blame anyone but myself, because by the time I realized I was obliged to pay them an extra $30 for the Deluxe version, I was so tired of the exercise that I thought ... "just pay the money, and get it over with".
Yes, I got a return, in both Federal and .. a surprise to me ... State taxes. This is not due to clever manipulation of the tax laws. It's due to the fact that I worked about 10 months of the year, rather than 12 months. Between my absences from work due to illness, stress, need to tend to SWMBO and not showing up at work at ALL during the month of December (after SWMBO died on 11/28), I not only maxed out my sick leave, my vacation leave, and my personal time ... I had at least 60 days of unpaid leave.
No, that's nobody's fault than my own. I could have worked, in a manner of speaking. But it was my choice not to work.
Ultimately, when I get more than a couple of hundred buck back on my Federal and State income tax combined, it's a sign that I would have more money in the bank at the end of the year if I had been able to work as many hours as I should have.
That hasn't happened for the past couple of years.
There is a tendency to view returned taxes as "found money", or a "windfall", but that's not a legitimate evaluation.
What I like is the years when I make much more money than I did the last year. Paying taxes is a pain, but knowing that I made so much money is, although difficult when April 15 comes around, kind of a milestone. It's good to make more money than you expected. It's bad when you make less, because when you compare the two situations, you end up with less money in the bank.
Some of the return (about 25%) is due to the fact that I turned 65 last year. Monetarily, that's a benefit.
But practically speaking, it means more illness and less work time; the time I spent out of the office, compared to the time when I could have been compensated (by "Sick Leave" and "Vacation Leave" combined) ... the deduction level is not equivalent to the salary that I lost.
Just saying ... getting old is even worse monetarily than the added aches and pains.
Look forward to my "Tax Man Cometh" article next year, when I pay taxes on Social Security AND the part-time job I'm going to have to find, to make ends meet.
NOTE:
I announced to my co-workers last week that I was retiring. They all send me replies of congratulations, as if I was likely to enter into an era of comfort and no-cares.
Very nice of them, but I would rather have worked another four years. My pension may not have been a lot bigger, but the Social Security dividend would have been worth another thousand dollars a month.
I should live so long.
The good news is: my Social Security monthly dividend for working until I am 66, instead of retiring at age 65, was worth an extra $41/month.
The bad news is: I'm pretty sure that there will come a time when that extra $41/month may make the difference between eating tuna versus cat food for dinner.
And isn't THAT a fine state of affairs?
(Sorry for the negativity. It has been a long day. I'm pretty sure I'll feel better in the morning.)
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Last weekend I posted about new shooters, as in "It's All Good".
There was a comment from an anonymous "Guest" reader, who had what I thought was a really qood question:
One or more experienced IPSC competitors run the matches, and they are deliberately low-key stages. They set up two stages side by side, and they run everybody who shows up on one stage, then the run everybody through the other stage, and then they stop to set up a couple more stages. This routine is necessary because they don't have a lot of room to work with; it's a popular club, and they muse necessarily take up as little room as possible because other shooters are using the rest of the range.
Most of the people who choose to participate at these matches are NOT folks who compete at 'regular' matches in the Columbia-Cascade Section. They're just people who want to shoot their pistols, and don't really care about competition except that they Do, sort of, compete; but against other people who are of the same mind-set. They aren't necessarily competitive, and they don't choose to invest their time and 'disposable income' to the degree which they may feel obliged if the "competed" in "regular matches".
(I'm counting on people like Paul, John and Fish to correct me if I misrepresent the situation. As I may have said before, I'm never attended one of their matches: I don't even know how to find the Douglas Ridge range, although I'm reliably informed that it's somewhere East, and a little South, of the Portland Oregon metropolitan area. You can find directions at the www.columbia-cascade.org website .. or go directly to the directions here. You can find out more about the club at their website here, and you can find more information about their USPSA program here.)
No, I don't know when the matches are held; according to the website, the last match for which scores are published was held on October 2, 2010 --- which was the FIRST SATURDAY of the month.
Taken directly from the USPSA Program page (see link above), here is their description of the program:
I suspect, given the descriptions that I have had relayed to me by the folks who administer these matches and at least one person who has attend, that the stage designs are deliberately chosen to be less complicated, and less intimidating (fewer problems understanding the nuances of the stage designs) than those which are typically encountered at a "regular" USPSA match in Oregon.
Frankly, I would like to attend a few of these matches, if only to get a better understanding of the stage design philosophy. Unfortunately, it conflicts with the "Introduction to USPSA" class which I instruct at ARPC (Albany Rifle and Pistol Club) on the First Saturday of every month, so I simply cannot do so because of scheduling conflicts.
---
Based purely on second-hand descriptions of these matches, both from people who have participated as shooters and those who have been administratively responsible for presenting the matches, I think that this depiction is reasonably accurate. However, I may be wrong.
I'm hoping that someone who knows more about Douglas Ridge will chime in via the comments page, and perhaps correct any inaccuracies.
Still, the original comment has merit; we need to have opportunities for folks who aren't feeling very "competitive" to try the game and see how they like it. If they don't want to become more invested in USPSA (or IPSC), that's fine. But after they've tried it for a while, and decide they want to more challenging stage design ... there's always (along the Willamette Valley, in Oregon) a place to play within an hour's drive via the I5 corridor.
And if you're a safe shooter, with good gun-handling skills, you're always welcome at any of the regular USPSA matches.
There was a comment from an anonymous "Guest" reader, who had what I thought was a really qood question:
Wow I had a chance to shoot at Douglas Ridge last weekend, and it was very refreshing, there were a lot of new shooters there but they were doing something that I couldnt help but take notice to and that was they were just having a good time!!!!!For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Douglas Ridge range program, here is a short description of the monthly matches there (which I have never attended, although I know that Paul [The Soccer Coach] and [Big Dawg] John often run it, and [White-Fish] Fish has mentioned that he sometimes attends the matches, so I'm not entirely ignorant because these guys tell me what's going on.)
It caused me to really reflect on what we are doing in our area and what we are doing for new shooters, does anyone think that perhaps we should offer the class that Jerry runs and then offer them a match that is a little scaled down (less imitaditing) than one of the normal matches at Albany or Tri County or Dundee??? Perhaps 4 stages with a few less round count and less movement maybe not as many 180 traps and such. It seems like we get a lot of new shooters but somewhere they fall from our fold and perhaps it is because the stages are a little hard and they are not having fun???
Just a thought?
One or more experienced IPSC competitors run the matches, and they are deliberately low-key stages. They set up two stages side by side, and they run everybody who shows up on one stage, then the run everybody through the other stage, and then they stop to set up a couple more stages. This routine is necessary because they don't have a lot of room to work with; it's a popular club, and they muse necessarily take up as little room as possible because other shooters are using the rest of the range.
Most of the people who choose to participate at these matches are NOT folks who compete at 'regular' matches in the Columbia-Cascade Section. They're just people who want to shoot their pistols, and don't really care about competition except that they Do, sort of, compete; but against other people who are of the same mind-set. They aren't necessarily competitive, and they don't choose to invest their time and 'disposable income' to the degree which they may feel obliged if the "competed" in "regular matches".
(I'm counting on people like Paul, John and Fish to correct me if I misrepresent the situation. As I may have said before, I'm never attended one of their matches: I don't even know how to find the Douglas Ridge range, although I'm reliably informed that it's somewhere East, and a little South, of the Portland Oregon metropolitan area. You can find directions at the www.columbia-cascade.org website .. or go directly to the directions here. You can find out more about the club at their website here, and you can find more information about their USPSA program here.)
No, I don't know when the matches are held; according to the website, the last match for which scores are published was held on October 2, 2010 --- which was the FIRST SATURDAY of the month.
Taken directly from the USPSA Program page (see link above), here is their description of the program:
Welcome to DRRC USPSA/IPSC shooting. We are offering monthly USPSA/IPSC style matches. Initially these will not be sanctioned matches but we will follow all USPSA rules and procedures. This will be a training ground for those who wish to learn and become proficeint in USPSA shooting skills. We will be promoting safety, training, proficiency, and fun. USPSA shooting is commonly referred to "Run and Gun" because you do not just stand and shoot. Many stages require moving to/from different targets and shooting under, over, and around barriers.This discipline is not for first time or inexperienced shooters. You must be able to compentently handle a handgun to particpate. If you are interested in USPSA shooting or joining USPSA, you can access the USPSA Safety Manual at the link below. Training outside of a match is available to interested new shooters. Matches are open to the public and all are welcome.
So, what we have here is a COF (Course Of Fire) which is true to IPSC/USPSA standards, but unofficially is less ... intimidating .. than a "standard" Practical Pistol match.
I suspect, given the descriptions that I have had relayed to me by the folks who administer these matches and at least one person who has attend, that the stage designs are deliberately chosen to be less complicated, and less intimidating (fewer problems understanding the nuances of the stage designs) than those which are typically encountered at a "regular" USPSA match in Oregon.
Frankly, I would like to attend a few of these matches, if only to get a better understanding of the stage design philosophy. Unfortunately, it conflicts with the "Introduction to USPSA" class which I instruct at ARPC (Albany Rifle and Pistol Club) on the First Saturday of every month, so I simply cannot do so because of scheduling conflicts.
---
Based purely on second-hand descriptions of these matches, both from people who have participated as shooters and those who have been administratively responsible for presenting the matches, I think that this depiction is reasonably accurate. However, I may be wrong.
I'm hoping that someone who knows more about Douglas Ridge will chime in via the comments page, and perhaps correct any inaccuracies.
Still, the original comment has merit; we need to have opportunities for folks who aren't feeling very "competitive" to try the game and see how they like it. If they don't want to become more invested in USPSA (or IPSC), that's fine. But after they've tried it for a while, and decide they want to more challenging stage design ... there's always (along the Willamette Valley, in Oregon) a place to play within an hour's drive via the I5 corridor.
And if you're a safe shooter, with good gun-handling skills, you're always welcome at any of the regular USPSA matches.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Bunny Operators from Heck!
Start with Japanese Anima. (I'm no fan.)
Throw in themes from Michael Z. Williamson, John Ringo, and Tom Kratman.
(And by the way, I've read just about every book these guys have written.)
Add a timely dose of Deus Ex Machina, and introduce it via a Free Access offer.
What do you have?
Cat Shit 1
I found this on the Lawdog blog, and rather than steal the well-deserved credit from him, I will encourage you to go to the article and read it for yourself.
You'll have to judge for yourself whether this is as far-out weirdo fascinating as I found it to be.
The only decisions you have to make is whether you have a half-hour to enjoy ... well, I won't spoil it for you. Just know that it's probably NSFW because you will disrupt your office cackling over each scene.
Oh, and DO obey Lawdog's injunction to view it on HD. Or at least, on Full-Screen mode.
Throw in themes from Michael Z. Williamson, John Ringo, and Tom Kratman.
(And by the way, I've read just about every book these guys have written.)
Add a timely dose of Deus Ex Machina, and introduce it via a Free Access offer.
What do you have?
Cat Shit 1
I found this on the Lawdog blog, and rather than steal the well-deserved credit from him, I will encourage you to go to the article and read it for yourself.
You'll have to judge for yourself whether this is as far-out weirdo fascinating as I found it to be.
The only decisions you have to make is whether you have a half-hour to enjoy ... well, I won't spoil it for you. Just know that it's probably NSFW because you will disrupt your office cackling over each scene.
Oh, and DO obey Lawdog's injunction to view it on HD. Or at least, on Full-Screen mode.
Buyer Remorse
Apropos of absolutely nothing at all, I have been reading some stuff about "re-holstering" (via Michael Bane Blog). While it's an eminently worthwhile discussion about "making yourself appear un-threatening to police", that was only the spur to the memory.
When I re-applied to ARPC for membership several years ago, I discovered they had a new twist to the new-member application: a mandatory meeting ["New Member Orientation"] with a club officer, where he (among other things) discussed Rules of the Range.
The thing that struck me was the rule which forbade "Drawing From The Holster". That was an ironclad rule, and was applicable on the North range ... where ARPC had been holding IPSC-type matches for several years, already.
When I heard that one, I went ballistic. So did another new member, Keith Tyler, one of the best IPSC competitors in the Columbia Cascade Section. Keith is also an LEO, and had just begun his owning training venture.
We argued that the rule was ridiculous, given that they sponsored both IPSC and Speed Steel matches on a monthly basis. These two sport strongly emphasize drawing from the holster.
"How can we possibly use the range to practice our sport, when you won't let us draw from holsters?" we both objected.
The Club Officer who was giving the class was much taken aback. This seemed reasonable, since he was the person who organized Speed Steel matches, every month.
He didn't have an answer for us. We both suggested that if we were joining the club for the purpose of having a range where we could practice, but the club rules forbade drawing from holsters, then there was not much advantage for us to justify club membership.
(The club also offers "Old West" Single Action Society, "I.C.O.R.E" (revolver competition) and the range is used by several local police departments ... ALL of which features drawing pistols from the holster.)
We worked it out that the officer would check with the Board of Directors, and in the meantime we would join the club with the understanding that if this Range Rule would be enforced, we could quit and our initiation fee would be returned.
In the end, the BOD reviewed that earlier decision and decided that it was unrealistic. They had to have new "Range Rules" signs painted and mounted, but the exercise resulted in a club which was much more responsive to the needs and competence of its members.
Since then, the club has initiated new training classes which it offers to its members. One is an "Introduction to Handguns", which is intended for the benefit of members who want to learn how to use handguns safely ... even in competitive environments.
Another new class is "Introduction to USPSA". of which I am one of the instructors.
A third class is "Firearms Handling to Certify for Concealed Carry Licenses", which I have taken and also necessarily includes drawing from a holster.
The lesson here is that ranges which wish to be an active member of the shooting community must attempt to attract members of all shooting communities, and many of these will both practice and compete drawing from the holster. Any range today which wishes to be both busy and profitable will find that they cannot attract new members without recognizing that their fears of lawsuits will keep them at the level of a "small, private club of trap-shooters".
I have nothing against trap-shooting, but if that was the only activity offered by my local club, I would not be willing to spend hundreds of dollars every year there, between membership dues and match fees; nor would I be willing to spend several hours each month volunteering to help the club fulfill its mission.
That mission should be to encourage firearms competition and to provide a safe, well-maintained venue for firearms practice.
Private clubs often sink into obscurity. Public clubs may either grow with the demands of the public it seeks to attract, or ... not.
When I re-applied to ARPC for membership several years ago, I discovered they had a new twist to the new-member application: a mandatory meeting ["New Member Orientation"] with a club officer, where he (among other things) discussed Rules of the Range.
The thing that struck me was the rule which forbade "Drawing From The Holster". That was an ironclad rule, and was applicable on the North range ... where ARPC had been holding IPSC-type matches for several years, already.
When I heard that one, I went ballistic. So did another new member, Keith Tyler, one of the best IPSC competitors in the Columbia Cascade Section. Keith is also an LEO, and had just begun his owning training venture.
We argued that the rule was ridiculous, given that they sponsored both IPSC and Speed Steel matches on a monthly basis. These two sport strongly emphasize drawing from the holster.
"How can we possibly use the range to practice our sport, when you won't let us draw from holsters?" we both objected.
The Club Officer who was giving the class was much taken aback. This seemed reasonable, since he was the person who organized Speed Steel matches, every month.
He didn't have an answer for us. We both suggested that if we were joining the club for the purpose of having a range where we could practice, but the club rules forbade drawing from holsters, then there was not much advantage for us to justify club membership.
(The club also offers "Old West" Single Action Society, "I.C.O.R.E" (revolver competition) and the range is used by several local police departments ... ALL of which features drawing pistols from the holster.)
We worked it out that the officer would check with the Board of Directors, and in the meantime we would join the club with the understanding that if this Range Rule would be enforced, we could quit and our initiation fee would be returned.
In the end, the BOD reviewed that earlier decision and decided that it was unrealistic. They had to have new "Range Rules" signs painted and mounted, but the exercise resulted in a club which was much more responsive to the needs and competence of its members.
Since then, the club has initiated new training classes which it offers to its members. One is an "Introduction to Handguns", which is intended for the benefit of members who want to learn how to use handguns safely ... even in competitive environments.
Another new class is "Introduction to USPSA". of which I am one of the instructors.
A third class is "Firearms Handling to Certify for Concealed Carry Licenses", which I have taken and also necessarily includes drawing from a holster.
The lesson here is that ranges which wish to be an active member of the shooting community must attempt to attract members of all shooting communities, and many of these will both practice and compete drawing from the holster. Any range today which wishes to be both busy and profitable will find that they cannot attract new members without recognizing that their fears of lawsuits will keep them at the level of a "small, private club of trap-shooters".
I have nothing against trap-shooting, but if that was the only activity offered by my local club, I would not be willing to spend hundreds of dollars every year there, between membership dues and match fees; nor would I be willing to spend several hours each month volunteering to help the club fulfill its mission.
That mission should be to encourage firearms competition and to provide a safe, well-maintained venue for firearms practice.
Private clubs often sink into obscurity. Public clubs may either grow with the demands of the public it seeks to attract, or ... not.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Ghosts of the Forest
news public affairs player: video
( http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/video/flv/generic.html?s=inwi10s22a3q81f )
PBS offers this video record of "White Deer" with a homely host and a silly ( but obviously and appropriately enamored) Irish-looking photographer/correspondent.
In the normal course of events, it would be a "Silly Season" article.
But here, it's something wonderful.
Yes, the deer are white and they are not albinos.
Yes, they are beautiful. And protected, legally by state law.
Sometimes Laws are reasonable. It would be shameful to be a predator of these beautiful Ghosts.
Sorry, no embedded video.
( http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/video/flv/generic.html?s=inwi10s22a3q81f )
PBS offers this video record of "White Deer" with a homely host and a silly ( but obviously and appropriately enamored) Irish-looking photographer/correspondent.
In the normal course of events, it would be a "Silly Season" article.
But here, it's something wonderful.
Yes, the deer are white and they are not albinos.
Yes, they are beautiful. And protected, legally by state law.
Sometimes Laws are reasonable. It would be shameful to be a predator of these beautiful Ghosts.
Sorry, no embedded video.
Never Underestimate An Old Broad
This video was sent to me (H/T G-man), and originally represented as "Ginger Rogers at 93, (Salsa) dancing with her grandson ...".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3O-o5gwi4HI
Looking at the YOUTUBE link, however, it appears that it was a lady named Sarah "Paddy" Jones, a 75 year old British lady; and that Ginger Rogers died childless in 1995.
So it's a little bit of a disappointment, of course, but still ... it's a remarkable performance!
I don't know a lot of people at 75 who can dance like that. I know for certain that my mother (a red-headed 93) can't dance like that!
---
It reminded me, in a way, of the USPSA match last weekend at ARPC. It was won by Carl Schmidt who is MUCH younger than 75 but still far from the youngest competitor there.
If you are a member of USPSA, you may recall that Carl is a USPSA Range Master and an instructor in USPSA Level I and Level II courses. So it's not like he's new to competition. In fact, he only moved to Oregon last year, and we who regularly compete here are fortunate to have him in our community. Not just because he's experienced and knowledgeable, but also because he's representative of the kind of people we have grown accustomed to meeting in this venue. He's warm, friendly, helpful, industrious and I have no doubt that he is also brave, reverent, thrifty and cheerful.
Well, perhaps he's not an entire Boy Scout.
Still, when I saw him at the January match he still had his Winter Beard, and I have to admit that he looked kinda "old-fartish". Of course, the "Old Broad" appellation does not apply to Carl but just looking at him it would not be immediately obvious to the casual observer ... especially one in their 20's or 30's ... that there is more "Speed, Power and Accuracy" there than meets the eye.
---
One of the things I try to mention when I'm conducting the "Introduction to USPSA" classes to prospective new shooters is that "here you will meet people you would be happy to invite into your home; in short, there are a LOT of very nice people who compete in USPSA matches, and you will surely make new friends".
For me, it was a Good Things moment when Carl came up to me after the match, patted me on the back and said: "Don't worry about retirement, you're gonna love it! You'll wonder why you waited so long."
Dammit, Carl, now I'm going to be impatient for April 21 to come along, so I can start having all this fun you're talking about.
On the other hand, I now realize that it has been a long time since I have been impatient for tomorrow.
New Horizons, Pal!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3O-o5gwi4HI
Looking at the YOUTUBE link, however, it appears that it was a lady named Sarah "Paddy" Jones, a 75 year old British lady; and that Ginger Rogers died childless in 1995.
So it's a little bit of a disappointment, of course, but still ... it's a remarkable performance!
I don't know a lot of people at 75 who can dance like that. I know for certain that my mother (a red-headed 93) can't dance like that!
---
It reminded me, in a way, of the USPSA match last weekend at ARPC. It was won by Carl Schmidt who is MUCH younger than 75 but still far from the youngest competitor there.
If you are a member of USPSA, you may recall that Carl is a USPSA Range Master and an instructor in USPSA Level I and Level II courses. So it's not like he's new to competition. In fact, he only moved to Oregon last year, and we who regularly compete here are fortunate to have him in our community. Not just because he's experienced and knowledgeable, but also because he's representative of the kind of people we have grown accustomed to meeting in this venue. He's warm, friendly, helpful, industrious and I have no doubt that he is also brave, reverent, thrifty and cheerful.
Well, perhaps he's not an entire Boy Scout.
Still, when I saw him at the January match he still had his Winter Beard, and I have to admit that he looked kinda "old-fartish". Of course, the "Old Broad" appellation does not apply to Carl but just looking at him it would not be immediately obvious to the casual observer ... especially one in their 20's or 30's ... that there is more "Speed, Power and Accuracy" there than meets the eye.
---
One of the things I try to mention when I'm conducting the "Introduction to USPSA" classes to prospective new shooters is that "here you will meet people you would be happy to invite into your home; in short, there are a LOT of very nice people who compete in USPSA matches, and you will surely make new friends".
For me, it was a Good Things moment when Carl came up to me after the match, patted me on the back and said: "Don't worry about retirement, you're gonna love it! You'll wonder why you waited so long."
Dammit, Carl, now I'm going to be impatient for April 21 to come along, so I can start having all this fun you're talking about.
On the other hand, I now realize that it has been a long time since I have been impatient for tomorrow.
New Horizons, Pal!
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