Faces in my waffles

Soooooo...I'm at Denny's eating breakfast, and I'm about to dive into my pancakes, sausage, and hash browns when I notice something peculiar.

What did you notice, JL4?

Thanks for asking.

I noticed the image in the pancake was that of Jesus giving the sermon on the mount. But the truly amazing thing about it was who is there. If you look very closely (noooo...closer), you can see Jim Morrison, Frank Sinatra, and Bob Barker (three dead guys) in attendance.

Ok...gotta go now. I need to establish an E-Bay account.

Marmalade - Reflections Of My Life

The changing
Of sunlight to moonlight
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes
The greetings
Of people in trouble
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings
Feel I'm dying, dying
Take me back to my own home
I'm changing, arranging
I'm changing, I'm changing everything
Oh, everything around me
The world is a bad place
A bad place, a terrible place to live
Oh, but I don't wanna die
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings
Feel I'm dying, dying
Take me back to my own home
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings...

Americans...correct?

The company I work for recently sent six 50 lb. boxes to M in Iraq. In getting it all ready, I was sent an e-mail with a list of things my co-workers thought appropriate. On the list was cigarettes. I sent an e-mail back to the originator and told her smoking was frowned upon heavily by the military, and had been for about 20 years. So she took it off the list...end of story, right?

Not so skippy. Some time later, another employee walked up to her and said the following: "So...like...our soldiers murder someone and then smoke a cigarette?"

In Washington State this past weekend, a group of recalcitrant's entered a cemetery after dark and replaced over 200 US flags on graves with white, hand-drawn flags bearing a Swastika. Families and friends entered that cemetery to honor their fallen loved ones and were horrified, hurt, and deeply saddened by this act of anonymous cowardice.

In both cases, I'm talking about Americans who did and said these things. Americans...home of the free, land of the....what?

Pop quiz skippy:

Who do you think will be the first group of people that will scream "WHERE IS THE ARMY!?!?" if a nuke goes off in Philadelphia, Chicago, or Kansas City?

Uh huh.


PS A little post-script here. To those who would read this and tell me, "Not everyone is that way", I would obviously respond in the affirmative. But the fact of the matter is, more people are acting that way then ever before in this country. Studies have shown that even though the bulk weight and raw numbers of care packages being sent to service men and women in the Middle East is still as high as it ever has been, the sources for these packages has diminished by some accounts as much as 85%. Which means that 15% of the people are still loading up through the help of organizations like Anysoldier.com, Operation shoebox, etc. who keep the mail and comfort items rolling by petitioning large business as well as the general public.

In my own company's venture, 16 people out of 63 filled those six 50 lb boxes. That's 25%, an extraordinarily low and personally embarrassing number. Some of them were not just co-workers - but were people I considered friends. How much does it take to hit the supermarket and buy a few packs of gum to throw in the box? Not much. It's not because they couldn't either - it's because they wouldn't.

We have reached the precipice. We are now equating the soldiers - our brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, friends and neighbors- with the politics and anger of our own individualistic feelings.

Don't tell me it isn't true, because the statistics speak for themselves. Don't tell me we haven't cut off our nose to spite our political faces, because we have. Read the papers...the letters to the editors...watch the news...it's right there staring us in the face: Faux patriotism - wrapped in a blanket of "I support the troops but not the war or the President". I can clearly see the lack of support for the war and the President, but for the life of me, I'm still searching for something that shows me the troop support...it's just not there as a fact.

Only words, skippy... only words.

Too stupid to ignore

I had no desire to say anything about this, but I just can't ignore it any more. The Miss Universe Pageant was held this past weekend, and...well...just read on.

Miss Sweden withdrew because of nationalistic feelings. It seems Sweden - home to 50 years of pornographic movies once referred to as "Swedish Films" **wink **wink, and long-known as the original home of porn, has objected to this "exploitation". Sweden - the bastion of neutrality that has allowed virtually every tyrannical regime in modern history to pounce all over their neighbors Finland and Denmark in times of world war. Remember the Nazi's? Sweden - the nation that indeed held a Miss Sweden contest a couple of months ago to determine who would represent their country - has declared that the Miss Universe pageant is degrading to women. I have no idea if it is or isn't, mostly because I haven't sat and watched one of those things in about 40 years. I don't care, and never really did. If it's degrading, don't do it.

In any event, you can't speak out of both sides of your mouth, because it's bound to come crashing back into your ass. Feminists were pressuring the Swedish government, as if to imply that women fully volunteering to compete in these things were the same as roosters being forced to fight to the death. They are not, irrespective of what "Inga the man-hater" has to say about it.

Keeping on topic (in case you've forgotten, Stupid is the topic), Miss Tanzania, Flaviana Matata, an electrical technician whose country is participating for the first time, is also challenging stereotypes of beauty with her shaved head. "I never let anyone define me neither by hair nor clothing as I believe God made me perfect as a pure, natural African woman," she said.

Honey, it's a beauty contest. If you were told this was some sort of International Jeopardy competition, you were told wrong. If this were an English grammar class, you'd be getting an "F" for sentence structure and syntax. Given that this is indeed what it is, the fact remains you are judged on your appearance, whether you want to be or not. You can be pure, African, natural, hairless, and give your little "All I want is world peace and kindness to puppy dogs" speech...but it doesn't change the fact that you're judged by what you look like in an evening gown and a swimsuit.

Sorry I had to be the one to tell you...someone should have clued you in earlier.

And lastly, we have Miss Jamaica, 25-year-old Zahra Redwood, the contest's first Rastafarian and the first to appear in dreadlocks. She wants judges to see her as a "Rastafarian promoting the message of peace, love and unity throughout mankind."

Hmmmm...peace through hairstyles. She better get with Miss Tanzania and coordinate their stories. What is best for humanity, Telly Savalas or Bob Marley? While you contemplate the pro's and con's of Vidal Sasoon and the Schick Double Trac, somebody give me a hefty bag full of "Tums", cuz I think I'm gonna be sick to my stomach.

By the way, what's a Rastafarian? Someone from Rastafa?
I know...I know. It's a nice word for "stoner".

Pahhss dee ganga, mahn.

Don't forget to r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r

Travis. Left us 12/9/2006

M a few days ago. He needed a ride, and was offered one on an Apache. His fee? Play door gunner.

While grilling your hamburgers and dogs, drinking your beer, and laughing it up with your friends and family...try to be cognizant of the fact that you have Monday off for a reason, and it's not because your boss was being nice to you.

It's because this man and his daughter are now - and have for 250 years - been shouldering the burden of courage in your absence.

Yeah, yeah, you're welcome.

Snapshots

For those of you under 27 years of age reading this:

A "snapshot" is what you would refer to as a 15 bit, 296 pixel, digitally enhanced, bi-matrixally loaded, semi-interchangeable, polarized composite image on your Cingular A-68 Top Shot cell phone and portable myspace device that you can't seem to separate from your friggin' ear long enough to pay for your Red Bull - sugar-free of course....unless it's your parents calling - then you act as if you never heard it, and let it go to voicemail.

For the rest of us...a "snapshot" is a photographic image in your brain.

But I digress - again.

When a person reaches middle age, memories become big. Yes, I know memories are just as precious to a teen, a new parent, or even a 10 year old. But not as important as they are to the people who are starting to lose the ability to create their own memories, and are now dependent upon children and grandchildren to produce the memories for them. Anyone who's been on the earth more than a minute or so knows most of these memories aren't actual movies, with talking and sequential action happening inside one's head. Instead, they come to us as 'snapshots', single photographic images that we apply to our consciousness and bond them together with a thing we call love.

Below are some of my snapshots.

**I was in the little league baseball championship game. I was 12, in my second-to-last year of LL, the starting shortstop and combined with the next year, I was to be a two-time All-Star. There were two outs in the first inning, but the other team had runners on 2nd and 3rd. A BIIIIIG kid was up at the plate, and he smashed a screaming ground ball towards me, and I clearly remember being so afraid of the speed of this ball, I kind of stepped to the side and made a weak attempt the grab it on the forehand side.

I did not.

Both runs scored and we eventually lost, 3-2. The next year we played the same team - won the championship - and I was part of the rarest of LL feats - the double play. As a matter of fact, we turned two 6-4-3 double plays, quite the accomplishment since in LL it's only 30 feet from home to first base, and nearly impossible to get the batter in a double play. But we did - I did - twice. And we won what we had failed to the previous year.

My snapshot: Winning the championship, right? Ummm, no. Stepping aside in fear instead of squaring up and taking that 100 mph ground ball....that is the snapshot I'm stuck with, like it or not.

**My Dad throwing passes to us kids in backyard football games. He sure did throw a pretty spiral back then. We used to catch it, then have to do an acrobatic move to avoid breaking our legs on the 3 foot drop off into the neighbor's back yard. Hand-eye coordination and good foot skills were at a premium in those games.

**Throwing a rubber ball against the steps of my parents house, hour after hour after hour...learning how to throw different pitches and catch balls that bounced back to me. The ones where I struck the very edge of the step always came back the hardest, making over the head and diving catches the rule of the day. I sure do miss doing that.

**All the neighborhood kids standing around in the rain, dancing, singing, and romping to the radio announcement that the long-suffering Red Sox had won the 1967 American League Pennant. They would lose the World Series in 7 games, but the loss is not my snapshot. The joy in the rain is.

**My brother sitting on my sister's wedding cake mere hours before the ceremony.

**My sister baby-sitting for the rest of us wild idiots, and putting her hand threw a plate glass door window while trying to keep me from going outside.

**Getting caught by my mom's sister (my Aunt) hosting a rather rowdy party for my high school friends when my parents were away. Ooops.

**Basic Training...wearing a uniform and getting to be a soldier for the first time...a sensation and joy that has not left me to this day.

**Watching the amniotic fluid come rushing out in a waterfall-like affect, 2 seconds before I saw my daughter - my first child - come out and say hello.

**Missing movement for a 60- day deployment to the desert because of my first son's birth.

**Weeping openly at what my wife had created in birthing my second son.

**Hitting the dirt and peeing my pants the first time I was in the middle of an artillery battle. For those in the bungee-jumping crowd who like to experience everything - take it from me - you might want to take a pass on this one.

**Seeing the look and pride on the faces of my mom and dad when they watched both boys play competitive soccer games on the same day they saw their granddaughter AND great granddaughter on the sidelines as well. Four generations represented in the same place and time.

These are some of my many snapshots, melding together as I get older, yet each trying desperately to hang onto their own place; their own individuality. They are mine to keep...no one can wrench them away from me...nothing can taint or ruin them. And only I can choose to delete or save them.

As I reflect on these any many other things, I'm struck by the fact that I am again afraid. The ball racing towards me at lightning speed is life itself. My life; the life of my loved ones; family. It's up to me to stand in front of the ball and square up. It's up to me to bend my knees and lay my glove down, knowing at any second the ball may take a bad hop and hit me right in the mouth. Will this particular grounder be a double play or a two run error?

I wish I could tell you, but I don't know either.

These are the days of our lives

For my dad:

Sometimes I get to feelin'
I was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids when we were young
Thing seemed so perfect - you know
The days were endless we were crazy we were young
The sun was always shinin' - we just lived for fun
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
The rest of my life's been just a show

Those were the days of our lives
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true
When I look and I find -
I still love you

You can't turn back the clock you can't turn back the tide -
Ain't that a shame?

I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride
When life was just a game

No use in sitting and thinkin' on what you did
When you can lay back and enjoy it through your kids
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
Better sit back and go with the flow

Cuz these are the days of our lives
They've flown in the swiftness of time
These days are all gone now but some things remain

When I look and I find no change

Those were the days of our lives - yeah
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing's still true
When I look and I find -
I still love you

I still love you

Letters from there... and BACK again

Still at Slayer, nothing sked for the next week, so I should be in place for at least a few days. All is well, ran into a few of my old students here, which is a good thing...getting to see my product in an environment which I prepared them for...finally some of that job satisfaction I so lacked back state-side. Their eyes get really big and spooked for a few weeks when they get here. No amount of talking to them back in Texas or wherever they were at last can compare to actually being on the ground. It's fun watching the cocky ones getting a dose of reality!

I think as of today its 74 days - or you could say 73 and a wake up. Guys are filtering out of here one by one, which is good cause when their time comes to leave it just makes mine so much more of a reality. No complaints other then the heat....damn..but heat causes sweat, which causes me to drink more water, which fills me up, which make me not hungry, which means my meals are smaller, which means I have lost 13 lbs....no complaints on the last part...at least my wife will be happy!

I have to run.

M

M,

Desert Shield and Storm...the Army screwed up big-time on the food. They shipped the T-rat's to each unit on huge pallets...the problem was, each pallet contained the exact same item, and each unit received 4 months worth of pallets up front. During "Shield", we were in nowhere Saudi Arabia of course, so we were stuck - just as everyone else was.

Our meal? Beef and Carrots. Every lunch...every dinner...for 4 months.

We were glad the war was about to kick in around or just after the New Year, because that meant we could: A) Get away from the beef and carrots or B) Get killed...which - believe it or not - was a STEP UP from eating one more bite of that shit. They always provided bread however, so we all hoarded the packets of peanut butter and jelly, and that was basically our diet. By the time the war started, my belt was pulled fully 3 1/2 to 4 inches across, as I had lost about 25 lbs.

The things we do for God and Country, huh? 73 and a wake-up, baby. Keep the faith.

B

When enough is too much

In drafting this post, I have written it...erased it...changed the format...erased it again...added photos...then deleted them...and in the end I arrived at this. As you know, I communicate almost daily with a friend who is in Iraq right now. I keep my communications with him constant, even if he cannot respond due to mission requirements. I know what it's like to be in a combat zone, and I know the positive effects of mail...paper or e-mail.

I received an e-mail about 2 hours ago from another friend who told me about the death of a former soldier of mine in Iraq. It happened on December 6th, 2006...five months ago, but I didn't know about it until today. That makes 3 for me. Two who worked for me, and one who worked with me. I'm just a Military Intelligence guy. If I were an Infantry, Artillery, or Tanker guy, I suspect I'd know dozens. But MI guys aren't supposed to go down that often. For me to have personally worked with or supervised 3, plus another who is being discharged soon with permanent disability from a grenade attack...well...that's a high number.

When I was a little boy, I loved parades. I loved marching with the bands, saluting the flags when they went by, and playing my own plastic trumpet along with the music. We had such great parades where I grew up. To me, the biggest day of the year - bigger than Christmas - was the 4th of July and the parades. My parents, closing in on 80, still talk about me and those parades.

When I was a boy, I loved to climb rocks, crawl in the dirt, and play soldier. I did it for hours with my friends, and even longer all by myself. I learned to maneuver in the woods behind our home, and to navigate through all kinds of terrain. I was comfortable alone...comfortable out away from the rush of people.

I took these traits with me into my adulthood. After the fact, it only seems normal and natural that I would have pursued the life's choice I did. I was born a soldier quite by accident, and I now know I'll die one on the day I pass.

You never plan on an early exit. You know it's possible...in some circumstances it seems likely at times...but you still don't give in to the feelings, to the angst, and to the fear. You block it out, focus and what's ahead...on what is important to you...and you trudge on.

And so we shall today, as well.

Sigh. When I was a little boy...

Letters from there...

Hey brother,

Just to let you know there will be days that I will not be able to email nor reply, due to the fact that I do travel while here. But I am back at Slayer, flew in last night, and all is well. I really do appreciate the concern.

(I mean this next part as a compliment, even though it might not read well)

Getting emails like yours reminds me of coming home and seeing my dog. Of course I am glad that I get to see my kids and wife, but every time I leave and then return home, my dog is sitting there wagging his tail at a million wags per second, always glad to see me, and that is when I know I am home....hope the point was made, not trying to compare you to a dog, but it's just nice to see concern out there....something kinda rare over here...

74 days.

M

Letters from there...

I asked for a personal opinion on what M thought was the current status over there. Not an MSNBC or Foxnews take...not a Pentagon take...a real take from a 13 year veteran - in the know and on the ground. What follows is that take. Make of it what you will:

Mr B-

From what I have seen myself and gathered from other guys who've gone outside the wire, the Iraqi's ARE capable of maintaining themselves, BUT....There is a lot more aggression internally then there is against the U.S. We get caught in the middle trying to save innocent lives from being lost.

We have the ability to be more successful here because we don't have family's or a way of life to terrorize. The Iraqis on the other hand, including their military, are highly vulnerable to sectarian violence, because the "bad guys" find out were they live, find their families, mosques, shops, whatever... and then do what you see in the news each day. It is very similar to the drug cartels in South America, but on a larger scale here.

What was touted as a religious war against America has turned into a religious war within each individual city and region. Look at it this way if you will: Go to any American college campus and tell them there will be a draft. You will have kids leave school, some will join before a draft, some will wait for a draft, many will fight the draft, and some will fight the people there who conduct the draft, and of course you will have students fighting each other solely on the basis of whether or not there should be a draft....At no time will the entire college line up and accept the fact that there will be a draft...or no draft at all.

It's the same thing here. We are fighting an invisible war against ideas and ideals. The only way to win against a certain idea is to kill all those who don't agree with your idea, and we're Americans, so we don't do that. Do I think we need to be here? YES, I do. The numbers of people that want us here are quadruple the numbers who do not, and most who do not are not even Iraqi anyways. These people were under the thumb of a madman for 25 years, and they want to be free and peaceful again. They need us to make that happen. It's the people who aren't from here who don't want that. They want everyone in the stone age - stupid and clueless.

Ok my friend, I have rambled enough. I hope you can see the meaning behind the tired typing of somebody here just doing his job, counting the days until I get home. 79, to be precise.

M

Letter BACK to there....

M-

Same old crap happening here. Mr Democrat says blah blah blibbety blah, and Mr Republican says na na na na na blibbety blah back at you. Assholes. In the meantime, you guys are short funding and soon you'll be using slingshots and hand-held shields. Did I say they were all assholes? I didn't? Well, they are. Assholes, I mean.

Got your mailing address...my company wants to send someone a care package, and since you're someone, I figured it may as well be you and your fellow troops. We'll get it out next week. I checked into packing your wife in the box, but I guess they frown upon that kind of shit.

Not much else new...everyone here has it a lot better than you do, so we don't allow complaining. Okay...I don't allow complaining. Most everyone else continues to bitch their way through life because they have to turn their belt buckle over at the airport, or they can't gas up their 2.3 mpg Hummer. Ohhh, the humanity!

By the way, during Gulf War I, I got a letter from someone I didn't even know, and he said this to me: "Keep your chin up and your head down". I'm fairly sure you know what that means.

79 days....Keep the faith, baby...keep the faith.

Mr B

Letters from there...

Mr B,

I'm trapped in this camp a lot, but do leave here once in awhile. 99.9% of the time I go to very established, built up FOBs, and always - travel is at night and by helo...

Try not to worry about me too much....I'm ok. Don't get me wrong, I am at the Baghdad Inter Airport, and you can hear alot of stuff, but most of the time it's like being in the nose bleed section of a baseball game, you can see and hear the game but kinda back and away from it..all is well, 80 days and counting.

M

yeah...80 days...

Peace

...with the Stars!!!

Last night, John Ratzenberger of Cheers and some lady named Ervita Lalalalalalal la la were eliminated from Dancing with the Stars. Unknown to many, the finals of the entire "Stars" series happened over the past week. Here for you and you alone, is a short run-down of the results:

Bonging with the Stars: In a close battle, it came down to two hardened couples, each with their own goal of taking away the chocolate with twinkie filling crown. Willie Nelson and Courtney Love barely edged out Cheech Marin and Britney Spears for the title.

Drinking to excess with the Stars: Mel Gibson easily outdistanced Paula Abdul, and Mr. Gibson paid a wonderful tribute to "my Jew-bastard friends" in his acceptance speech.

Grossing us out with the Stars: Most people thought Keith Richards snorting his dad live on tv would be the winner, but surprise, surprise!!! It was Paris Hilton switching underwear with the entire cast of "Gray's Anatomy."

Bullshitting with the Stars: This one - incredibly - ended in a tie. The tandem's of Dubya and Dick vs. Reverend Al and Hillary bullshitted like nobody has ever seen before, and neither the judges nor the call-in audience at home could make up their minds. "Since they both bullshit so profusely, I had to give one vote to each of them," co-host Sean Hannity said. "It was a masterful performance that will be remembered for years to come."

And finally, Monday night marked the last show of the year for:

Saying stupid shit with the Stars: This title was taken away in a landslide by Rosie O'Donnell. "When she said, 'Hey...terrorists deserve some of our sympathy too. They have kids. They're parents as well', I knew I was destined to finish second," said Senator John F. Kerry. "All I had was my 'stupid soldiers in Iraq statement,' and I knew that could never top Rosie's everyday statements, no matter what they were."

Letters from there...

E-mail from Iraq:

Mr B,

Sorry I haven't written, I am at Camp Slayer still, and life is good. Minus the dirt and the sound effects from the city, where I am living is very much like Camp Humphreys in Korea. I live in kind of a tiny bungalow with one roomate - I have my own side though. It's a typical dusty, musky, crappy room, but it's out of the elements and beats a tent. Everything is within a few minutes' walk, to include chow hall, internet/phone cafe, mini PX/BX, barber shop; shit I even have my own GMC 4x4 pickup, and can take a 10 minute drive to Camp Liberty or Victory and go to those PX's which are huge. Of course, taking road trips can be a little dangerous. Okay, a LOT dangerous. I get to call my wife and kids about once a week, so life is very good for me...went to Taji yesturday, did a site survey, 12 hour trip all together..and every bit of travel that we do is via Blackhawk, and they only fly during the night. Flying during the daytime is more dangerous than driving, as I've already explained. I have inclosed a pic... a panoramic of Camp Slayer......81 days and counting...

M

I love M...81 days


Peace.

Really? I don't think so home-boy

Here is a sign we don't see a lot of nowadays. "No blood for oil" is dramatic, searing, heartfelt, poignant...and dead in the water.

You see, now that gas prices are soaring to $3 and higher for the second time, even the most bone dumb idiot out there has started to realize, "Hmmmm...This kinda sucks."

Yeah...kinda.

And here is some more bad news Mr. & Mrs. Enlightened: 3 of the 4 largest oil fields in the world are in Middle East, Venezuela, and Russia. Oooops. That ain't good, is it Buckwheat?

In the United States alone, there are 143,781,202 registered cars, 21,760,000 trucks or construction vehicles, and an estimated 68.7 million non-registered yet functioning automobiles or trucks driving our highways and byways.

Q.How many United States businesses are 100% dependent upon oil?

Cue the Jeopardy theme song

A. All of 'em, brainchild. All of 'em.

If gas goes to $5 a gallon or higher, you think you're working next week? Or the week after that? You do? I don't. You think your boss or your company's clients are going to foot the bill for the petrol? You do? I don't.

We need alternative sources of fuel and energy. I agree. Read this again...I agree. But right now, we don't have them, do we? Nuh, ah. We gots oil, Buckweat. It even takes oil...and a lot of it...to run the facilities that we have trying to develop alternative sources. In other words, there is no getting away from it...which makes those signs and sympathies obsolete.

And who is in charge of the oil?

Cindy Sheehan's friend Hugo Chavez. And our favorite picnic napkin wearing buddies, Ibn AL Phukwad and his passenger airline demolition derby team. Oh, and let's not forget Vladmr Putin, the man who wants the Soviet Union rebuilt to its old self, and is willing to take sides with all the bad seeds to make it happen.

You don't want blood for oil? Me either. But you know what, that's exactly what is going on, and I'm damn glad it is. Hand me an M-16 and tell me it's about oil, and I'll say to you, "Where are they at?" You see, I'll be checking out for good soon enough, but my children and their children are going to want to live longer. That means they need oil...and it's in Iraq, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. We need someone in the world to maintain a presence and keep it safe for everyone. Since I'm not seeing anyone besides England standing up to the task, that means it's up to us.

Then again, the flip-side is we could all be unemployed, penniless, hungry, and our children and grandchildren will die starving paupers...that would be fun, wouldn't it, Buckwheat?

News

In the event that you were watching any of the free news channels lately: NBC, CBS, ABC, FOX...or any of the mainstream on-line news: GOOGLE, YAHOO, MSN.COM...or any newspapers or any other paper news sources lately...or perhaps the cable news...CNN, HEADLINE NEWS, MSNBS, CNBC, FOXNEWS....

Then you DIDN'T see this:

Al-Qaida Claims Attack on Saudi Oil Refinery
By Evan Kohlmann

Al-Qaida's Committee in the Arabian Peninsula has issued an authenticated statement claiming responsibility for yesterday's failed suicide bombing attack on a major Saudi oil refinery in the eastern town of Buqayq on behalf of its "Brigade of Shaykh Usama Bin Laden." According to the communique, "the mujahideen [from the brigade] managed to prepare two car bombs that were driven by martyrs inside the refinery. These refineries facilitate the looting and stealing of Muslim petroleum... These heroes are from the cream of Saudi Muslim male youth. Praise be to Allah, there are many more like them and they are all competing amongst themselves to become martyrs."

Why is no one in our media covering things like this?

I know...do you?

Miss

You know when you miss someone...I mean really miss them. You get nostalgic and damn near despondent when you see the world - or at least your world - without them? Below are four of my most treasured people. Perhaps out there you could tell me some of yours?

Age 82, October 2004. Brain issues.

Without question, the stand-up comedian who made me laugh the hardest...and my list of side-splitters is long and full...Rodney holding top spot is saying something. In typical fashion, when he went into the hospital for the brain surgery, he was asked by a personal friend how long his stay would be. He responded with, "If all goes well, about 2 weeks. If not, about an hour and a half". Funny, funny man...even when facing the end of the road.

79. October, 2005. Natural causes.

The man who brought me from adolescence into adult hood every night at 11:30 from the time I was 14 years old. I'd sneak down after mom and dad went to sleep and watch his show every night without failure. Funniest moment for those old enough to see his show: He was doing Karnac the Magnificent. He looks at the camera with the envelope to his forehead and says, "Name the sound a sheep makes when exploding." On cue, Ed McMahon repeats it, "Name the sound a sheep makes when exploding."

Karnac rips the envelope open, blows into it to open it, and says, "Ssssssss, boom, bah".

That was over 30 years ago, and I'm still laughing now.

42. May, 1989. Ovarian Cancer

As Emily Latella, Roseanne Rosanna Danna, and soooo many other characters, Gilda was one of the 3 or 4 unbelievably talented comedians who put SNL on the map - and kept it there. 42 is waaaaaaaay to young to check out. As Emily, she once came on talking about how upset she was about the "Presidential Erection". Chevy Chase stopped her, and corrected the word. "That's election, miss Latella. Election - not erection."

"Oh...NEVER MIND"

42. October, 1999. Aircraft malfunction.

Bold, talkative, confrontational and frank, Payne was never afraid to tell anyone what was on his mind - and he did so often. A distinctly different personality in a sport that screams out for personalities of any kind, Payne was never confused with anyone else out there. Hall of Fame player Lee Trevino recalled when he had a talk with Payne when he was a rookie on the PGA Tour in 1982 about Payne's propensity to wear plus-four trousers, a cap generations removed as well, and loud, flamboyant colors: "Son, [Trevino said to him] if you're going to talk with that mouth and wear those clothes, you damn sure better figure out how to play out here - and I mean in a big hurry before people laugh at you." A PGA championship, 2 United States Open championships, 5-time Ryder Cup player for his country, and dozens of regular PGA tour wins later, Payne had indeed figured it out.

Time

It's time again boys and girls. Time to drop the dribble and get back to the past through our 3rd version of: BEST ALBUM COVERS OF ALL TIME!

Leading off today, and apparently playing for humanity's worst team is Barry Louis Polisar. There may indeed be some truth to the rumor that Barry went on to fame as John Wayne Gacy, but factual evidence is still forthcoming. Let's face it folks...Barry just ain't friggin right. On the right/not right scale, he's pegging out the meter on the not right side.

Next we have Mike Terry...or perhaps it's really Terri Mike. From this photo, it's impossible to tell. Liberace turned down the contract to wear this sparkling piece of clothing because he thought it was too loud. Mike - - or is it Terri? Anyways, we'll go with Mike...sang his hit song, "The estrogen shots are giving me diarrhea" at Glasgow's Pavilion theater to a rousing ovation from all 6 dinner guests.

Ok...brought back from an earlier post, the winner of the 20th Century's creepiest album cover, Freddie Gage sings "All my friends are dead." In noting the "rainbow" logo at the bottom of the album, it isn't much of a stretch to figure out how they all died. Honorable mention award for best use of white, white, and white with black leather slacks.

Mmmmm-hmmmmm, I just bet you do, big guys. Two characteristics of this cover place it in the top 10: 1) Everyone in the photo has blue trousers except the 1st guy, who obviously missed the memo. 2) The dude on the far right failed to properly read the instructions on the Ex-Lax box, and he's in real trouble right now.

Finally, we close today's segment with, "The Many facets of Aaron". Let's see, clockwise from the upper left we can easily note that Aaron can be:

Incredulous

Sad

Angry

Proud

Stupid

Stupid, again.

Blue on blue

The tragic phenomenon known in the American lexicon as "Fratricide" continues to rear it's head in the most publicized case of it in history. We all know what it is, and I'm not going to belabor this post by going over the gory details. What I am going to do is give you a breakdown of the history of fratricide, or "Blue-on-Blue" as the British call it, the military jargon of "Blue" being "friendly forces".

Dating back to the Civil War, there have been 38 notable or significant cases of fratricide in the world, not all of them involving the United States. Here are some of them:

May 10th, 1863. General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson was killed by a North Carolina regiment of the Confederate army at Chancellorsville, Va.

1914-1918. The French government conceded that they inadvertently killed as many as 75,000 of their own troops in the trench battles of WWI.

1940. The Nazi Luftwaffe sunk two of their own naval ships during a north Atlantic sea battle.

1943. Seconds after a German bombing raid on Allied troops in Sicily, an American-led bomber squadron flew over the exact same location as the German air forces did. Not knowing who was who 10,000 feet upward, Allied anti-aircraft gunners downed 37 U.S. bombers. It has been speculated that band leader Glenn Miller may have been in one of those aircraft.

Ok...the litany of incidents goes on and on. Official statistics dictate the following:

WWI 12% of all casualties were blue-on-blue.
WWII 16%
Vietnam 14%
Desert Storm 22%
Gulf War II, Iraq and Afghanistan 11%

My point is, it happens. It's commonly called the "fog of war". Things happen at a frightening speed, and emotions run high. The combination of speed, nerves, conditions, human frailty, and any number of other factors can lead to accidental fratricide.

The problem is, we now live in a shameless country where we have to find someone at fault for everything that goes wrong. It is IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, the bad luck, bad timing, or simply an incorrect guess by a commander or sergeant at the incorrect time.

No sir...not in this country...not in 2007. Someone must be blamed...someone must be held accountable, dammit!

Has anyone else besides me noticed that all the people demanding answers have never been in actual combat themselves? Those without a clue are trying to persecute, punish, and destroy the lives of people who were there...risking their lives for us. And yes, I said punish. I chose that word from a direct quote from Mary Tillman in front of Congress the other day:

"People above (meaning higher ranking officers and NCO's) should have been punished for my son's death". I didn't say it...she did.

Kevin Tillman said under oath, "The Army has used my brother's death for a recruiting poster."
Really? Hey boys and girls, as soon as you finish high school, come on down and join the Army! Hell, you might be one of the lucky ones to get your balls blown off and still live to tell about it!! Uuuuuum, no Kevin...the Army is not and has not used your brothers death as a recruitment tool. That's just stupid to even think that, let alone say it.

Kevin and Mary: "The Army attempted to cover up the true facts of Pat's death." That much is true...they didn't want to admit that one of their own - football hero or not - was killed by one of their own. Duuuuuh. Do you remember when you were involved in that fender-bender? You know, the one where you walked up to the investigating officer and said, "Officer...I cannot tell a lie. It was my fault." Remember that one? Ohhhhhh....you didn't admit fault? To this day, you still tell that stupid lie about how it was the "other" driver, even though you were charged and you know the real truth? And even knowing right now you still lie about your stupid accident, you are pressing that the U.S. Army is criminally negligent in obscuring the facts about a friendly fire incident where a young, brave man died?

Ok, lemme finish this up. 3,336 dead. Statistically speaking, that means approximately 367 were the result of accidental fratricide. One man's death...6 investigations...Congressional hearings...bullshit flying from both directions...yes both directions.

Meanwhile 366 other men and women died in a similar way, and their families mourn no less, cry no less, grieve no less, and miss them no less, but are getting a LOT less publicity and public adoration.

Hypocrisy, meet thine own...and their name be well known to all.

Of yesterday and today...

106 years ago, a New England based newspaper editor wrote an article about a politician that everyone loved dearly. The editor's dilemma was the politician was not in reality as he seemed to the public, and the editor had proof of that. The newspaper threatened to fire him if he did not retract his publicly unpopular opinion. He wrote Mark Twain, and explained his particularly exigent predicament. Twain responded immediately:

My Dear Sir:

But you are proceeding upon the superstition that Moral Courage and a Hankering to Learn the Truth are ingredients in the human being's makeup. Your premises being wild and foolish, you naturally and properly get wild and foolish results. If you will now reform, and in future proceed upon the sane and unchallengeable hypothesis that those two ingredients are on vacation in our race, and have been from the start, you will be able to account for some things which seem to puzzle you now.

Sincerely yours,

S. L. CLEMENS.Riverdale-on-the-Hudson, Dec. 21, 1901.

I see, said the blind man. Yesterday I removed an unpopular post I had made. Last night I searched and came upon this quote, which made me realize that my opinion is my opinion, and I'm entitled to that. Others may have theirs, but I can have mine as well. The post I removed yesterday is back up today. If the wisdom of someone from 106 years ago makes sense to me now, then I would be remiss to shame his fine words with a cowardly deed. And so, IN SEARCH OF HEROES is back up. Slam it or not, I stand by my own feelings on the topic. You can hate what I wrote, but I have seen the error of my ways, and will not back down because some want me too.

In search of heroes

So we have a young, former Private First Class who may or may not have "heroically" defended her last position behind the wheel of her truck. She may or may not have fired her weapon back at the enemy soldiers who had fairly much killed all of her friends. After all, she had serious leg, back, and spinal cord injuries suffered in the violence of the ambush against her convoy so she may or may not have had the ability to fire back.

In any event, she was heralded as a hero.

Then we have the NFL football player who gave up his millions to fight for what he thought was a great cause. On a ridge line in Afghanistan at dusk, some claim he was killed in a fratricide incident. Others claim he was killed by enemy fire. Whichever happened, it really doesn't matter because he's gone. The bullets cared not which weapon they came out of. Bullets are funny that way.

Continuing on, he was heralded as a hero as well.

Evidently, there is a large contingent of people who want both these stories exposed...in turn exposing a Pentagon tactic of creating heroes in the interest of national pride and unity. Of course, we wouldn't want that...not national pride and togetherness...how silly to think we need that.

The Tillman family is upset at the Army...well, upset is far too mild a word. They are furious at the Army for "fabricating a lie bordering upon fraud" with respect to their son Pat and his heroism or lack thereof. Interesting take on this one, huh?

IN YOUR LIFE - have you ever heard of the family of a deceased "hero" come out after the fact and say, "Well, Bill didn't actually save all those people in that burning building...he was just in there buying cocaine and he got trapped."

No, I don't think you have.

But if the family is angry because the talented one with all the money gave it up and went off to join the service - against their wishes - then perished...perhaps they would take issue with the story and everything surrounding it in order to deflect their awful truth - that they want some young soldier held accountable for their son's death. So maybe it was fratricide...and maybe fratricide has been around as long as mankind has warred...and maybe it is a tragic end to an enchanted life...but maybe, just maybe, he's getting more inappropriate press now because of his family than he ever got because of the military. My own growing despondency and the feeling that I need a shower every time I see another panel convening another inquiry (what is this...the 4th or 5th Pat Tillman inquiry?), has become so overwhelmingly sad for me I just had to write this clearly politically incorrect blog.

Pat Tillman died because he voluntarily joined the U.S. Army in a time of crisis. How he died is actually secondary to the simple fact that he died because he wore the uniform, a fact of life for those who do. He did not have to. He could have continued to play in the NFL and make his $5 Million a year.

But he chose not to play. And that - as tragic and sad as it may be - is that.

There have been and will continue to be, fratricides during the chaos of a firefight. We won't hear much about them though, because the family's of the fallen will allow the story to speak for itself - will not dispute it or the memory of their fallen loved one - and will bury their own personal hero with the honor and respect they deserve. And those families will act just like all the otherwise anonymous heroes who weren't good enough to play in the NFL and subsequently have the power to petition Congress as many times as needed to get the results they want.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and before Mom Tillman lobs another mortar round at the administration and the military, maybe...

Juuuuust maybe...

She should check herself out in the mirror.

R.I.P. Pat

Man...sometimes ya just wanna...."To da moon, Alice", but you don't

Discourse. To convey thoughts through the use of words.

There are many types of discourse, and plenty of media applications with which to apply your own version. This blog comes to mind first and foremost. You can be Patrick Henry and say, "Give me liberty or give me death." You can be Thomas Jefferson in his 1801 inauguration speech saying, "If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it."

The key word in Tom's sentence being "reason". Freedom of speech is tolerated and accepted when it is conducted in a "reasonable" manner, using "reasonable" words, speech, and thought processes. At times though, the process or the words become unreasonable, and although you will most likely not be incarcerated for speaking your mind, there are situations where the public in general, or individuals from within the standing public take issue with the reasonability (yes, I made that word up) of a person's words, and something must be done about it.

Therein lies the fundamental premise of Freedom of Speech. You really can't say anything you want to anyone you want, but the parameters and limitations of the 1st Amendment are certainly broad enough to allow you to get your point across in the aforementioned "reasonable" manner. The second part of the 1st Amendment is rarely discussed because it's only inferred, but is no less a firm, fundamental provision of the amendment:

Inasmuch as you, or you, or you, have the right to say to me whatever you so desire, I too have the equally fundamental (and I dare say more powerful) right to flip the off switch and completely shut out what you are saying. If you feel the overwhelming urge tell me you don't agree with my point of view, fire away. If you're reasonable about it, I'll give you the respect and courtesy of my ear. Same goes for e-mail. Come at me with a cogent, thoughtful presentation, and you may even convince me you are correct.

But if you're going to make your point through the use of hate speech, abhorrent supposition based partially on conjecture and mostly upon your own warped sense of factual, evidenciary information - spare me. A quantifiable debate is the cornerstone of free speech, but both parties must obey the rules of decency and decorum. If not, there is no debate at all.

What you have is one person with an astute contention, while the other is simply a recalcitrant, worthy of nothing but antipathy.

And so, in taking some good advice and letting this go as an opaque post, I now rest the issue.

Peace.

An angel in a yarmulke

We've all heard by now about the 77 year old Professor Liviu Librescu, of Virginia Tech. He's the Romanian born engineering professor who jumped in front of and barricaded the door to his classroom at Va Tech on Monday, April 16th.

Professor Librescu leaves behind a legacy not many in the last 100 years were able to assemble. Born in 1930's Romania, as a boy between the ages 7 and 14 he watched as thousands of his own were whisked off to Nazi internment camps, most of whom never returned. Fortunately for all of us, the good professor did. After growing up and obtaining his education, he and his wife had to endure the pain of another ruthless dictatorship: Professor Librescu was imprisoned for not joining the communist party by Romanian Dictator/Animal, Nikola Ceaucescu. Through the intervention of Israeli Prime Minister Menahem Begin, the professor, his wife, and two sons were able to migrate to Israel, which led to their mid-1980's entrance into this country.

On Monday morning, professor Librescu finally found peace in his life, but not before battling it out one final time.

Through the window of the door to his classroom, Liviu Librescu came face to face one last time with evil. There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that professor Librescu had instantaneous recognition of the eyes he was peering into. In 77 years, you can forget a lot of things, but you're not going to forget that. Liviu Librescu saw the eyes - the same eyes he had seen twice before in a life that seemed rife with these images - and reacted accordingly. Ordering his students to jump, in a nano-second he threw his body against the door and blocked it just long enough to provide one last saintly message to the world.

"I am strength. I am justice. I am perseverance and tolerance. I am Liviu Librescu, and I will be heard."

If there is a God, and I believe there is; if he listens to requests, and I believe he does; then right about now Liviu Librescu is being fitted for a set of custom wings, the kind reserved for the most special of angels. The angels that were not only enormous in life, but unbelievably larger in death.

Peace everyone. Peace.

Tagged

I have been tagged to list my 5 favorite blogs...here they are with a brief explanation of each:

IMPORTANT NOTE: THESE ARE NOT IN ANY ORDER OF PREFERENCE

http://missbegotten.blogspot.com/ Funny, articulate person. Newly found on here, fun to read. Insightful in an unassuming way. Great wit...great charm...

http://kitchenconcerts.blogspot.com/ Great old time rock and roll to reminisce to...fun to go there.

http://maydensvoyage.blogspot.com/ Deeply personal blog. Insightful, honest, and a breath of fresh air we all need from time to time.

http://macme.blogspot.com/ My hero...a soon to be deployed 3 times soldier...I said...A SOON TO BE DEPLOYED TO A COMBAT ZONE FOR THE 3RD EFFING TIME...I also said, my hero...because it's true.

http://bslawgirl.blogspot.com/ A new one. I don't know if she knows how funny or insightful she is yet, but perhaps she'll one day realize her talent. She's a new blogger...and I'm a new reader

http://scaredmonster.blogspot.com/ A good guy, and I know this is 6....so sue me

Reaching for...?

And so the moment arrives. You're standing there at the crossroads of "why" and "who gives a rats ass".

TV man says something that torques you off. Click.

Radio man says something totally stupid. Push.

You can't find any good music to put on your MP3 because Limewire won't work today. The fact that using Limewire is piracy doesn't bother you. You're pissed at it for not working. Exit.

Somewhere there was a tsunami...and it wasn't your village, so you pass by the story and turn away.

When the top flies off a Korean kettle, we self-indulgently ask why others didn't do what they were supposed to do, conveniently dismissing the fact that we ourselves haven't done squat either. And soon enough, we will shift into ignore mode.

So that's it. Turns out it really isn't about putting your left foot in, taking your left leg out, and shaking it all about.

Evidently, it's all about click, push, turn away, ignore, and exit.

How shallow the waters have become.

Questions

Yes...there are and will be questions. Yes...there was a two-hour window between shooting incident #1 and #2. Yes...the campus police probably made some human error. And yes...Virginia Tech University and the state of Virginia will pay for this politically and monetarily in the coming months and years.

But why? Why did this happen? Here is my answer, and if you don't like it you can go fuck yourself and give your own opinion on your blog. Part of this is in my other blog, askmisterattitude, and there is some new stuff here.

We fly flags of a confederacy long since abolished, and give crap answers as to why we still do it. We have standards for some people that are not standards for others, and we give crap answers for why that is. We have people in this country who say they are men of the cloth, and that they speak for those without the power to speak, but they really want to keep those same multitudes "victims", so those speakers will have some relevance. We place celebrity on a higher plane than good parenting, or just doing good deeds. We complain when things get too tough. We fail to work on our differences through constructive speech, instead harping and sniping from a distance. We respect little in authority, and don't even have the decency to stand still and take our hat off for a song at the beginning of a baseball or football game. We want all this country has to offer with regard to its riches and pleasures, but we want someone else to do the work for us. We complain about our electorate, but we won't stand up and do it ourselves. We take steps to ensure those who want to do the right thing are not allowed to by law. We can't pray in school, say the pledge of allegiance, or wink at a co-worker to let them know we recognize they're there and noticed.

We handcuff our police, then lash out at them when they react incorrectly. We all carry cell phones and camera's to record the slightest misstep, then turn it on them in a flash. We rant and rave when someone says a bad word on one radio station, but the airwaves are full of that bullshit from other mouths up the dial. The coach of the VT football team was interviewed last night, and he stated that he didn't think any of his players were victims. That's just laughable, isn't it? Hey coach, you mean none of your players were over in the Engineering building? Whoda thunk it? The term student-athlete doesn't really apply to football and basketball, but we persist in acting as if it does.

The time has come to stop the fucking charade, but instead of screeching the wheels to a halt, we keep on churning. Rutgers University - yes the very same Rutgers that was sooooooooo insulted last week - had to make the admission last night that they signed a football player with two sexual battery convictions for having sex with his SISTER. And they knew about it and did nothing, because he sure could run fast...oh yeah...he was a great football player. A psychopath socially, but that doesn't matter to Rutgers. Rutgers the "offended".

When we finally get to the point that we realize there are people in this world who want to bring this country down; when we finally get to the point when we realize there are people in THIS COUNTRY who want to bring us down; when we finally get to the point where we realize that we are hindering law enforcement, not helping it; when we finally get to the point where we stop bitching about taking off our sneakers at the airport; when we finally come to realize your kid is failing chemistry because of his own doing, not a teachers; when we finally stop running red lights and killing innocents; when we are finally able to say when someone is wrong or right without being slapped down for having an opinion; when we finally get to the point where we realize freedom of speech is not just for you...or you...or you....or even you...but for everyone - perhaps we'll turn it around.

I'm not holding my breath though. And in the meantime, if you don't agree with this - guess what?

I don't fucking care what you think.

"Here the honourable finds its due and there are tears for passing things; here too things mortal touch the mind"

-Virgil (The Aeneid)

Va Tech 16 April 2007

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Who needs terrorists when we do such a fine job of destroying our own country all by ourselves?

Brrrrrr

East Coast slammed by powerful nor’easter
West Va., N.J. declare emergencies; hundreds of flights canceled. Up to 10 inches of snow in Vt, NH, and Maine.

With temperatures dropping into the low 40's in Central Florida last night, a certified record cold snap for the region, global warming advocates huddled around their pot bellied leader....errrrr....stoves, last night wondering how the hell this could be going on. "Thousands of head of cattle froze to death this winter in the North Texas, Oklahoma, Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska corridor, and we can't seem to find a viable explanation why", global warming spokesperson Cindi Metcalf-Burns-Myers said. "All indications were that we were in the throes of an inconvenient truth", she said while winking at her counterpart, Al. "And for the record, that's Ms. Metcalf-Burns-Meyers".

Sitting at a spread that included a full rack of ribs, four different appetizers, 2 cakes, a large order of fries with gravy, and 3 gallons of rocky road ice cream, Al wiped off his lips long enough to say, "You see, this cold snap is nothing more than a fabrication by the media...a media designed to put fantasy over fact when it comes to me and my cause." When reminded that the media is actually behind him 95% on this one, Al was heard to say, "Really? I didn't know that. Hey, you gonna eat the rest of those mashed potatoes, or can I scarf 'em?"

Meanwhile, in Cleveland, the "Indians" still haven't dug their way out of the 3 feet of snow that fell last week, cancelling all their home games so far, and sending them to Milwaukee, which has a domed stadium. "Thank goodness for that", Indians manager Eric Wedge said. "It snowed 5 inches during Saturday's game alone. I had my entire staff outside, spraying hairspray into the sky, but to no avail. It just kept getting colder and snowing harder. I'm glad Milwaukee had a dome, at least."

From the AP wires

Not much else to say

I grew up a-dreamin' of bein' a cowboy,

and Lovin' the cowboy ways.

Pursuin' the life of my high-ridin' heroes,

I burned up my childhood days.

I learned of all the rules of the modern-day drifter;

Don't you hold on to nothin' too long.

Just take what you need from the ladies, then leave them,

With the words of a sad country song.

My heroes have always been cowboys.

And they still are, it seems.

Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,

themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.

Cowboys are special

with their own brand of misery,

From being alone too long.

You could die from the cold

in the arms of a nightmare,

Knowin' well that your best days are gone.

Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen,

I let the words of my youth fade away.

Old worn-out saddles, and 'old worn-out memories,

With no one and no place to stay.

My heroes have always been cowboys.

and they still are, it seems.

Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,

Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.

Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,

Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.

Chance of success? Minimal at best

So the Duke lacrosse players were totally exonerated, and life goes on, right? Or does it? I couldn't get this one question out of my head yesterday, so perhaps you can assist me.

Can a reputation soured, be reestablished in a positive manner?

Let me list some names for you, and you tell me what your initial thoughts are. Remember, this is a reputation question - I'm not asking how you personally feel about anyone. Ready?

OJ Simpson
Robert Blake
Jim Baker
John Ramsay
Kobe Bryant
Patsy Ramsay
Don Imus
Phil Specter
Barry Bonds
Johnny Cochran
Monika Lewinsky
Jimmy Swaggart

There are more...many more...so I ask you again. Can a reputation be changed?

I don't think it can. Not really.

Just once...juuuuust once

Joey

There is a young man from here in Central Florida who grew up a terrific athlete. His name is Joey. Soccer was his chosen sport, and he was one of the area's best for a long time. He went off to college, and one night he did the college thing that college kids do, and tragedy struck.

He's paralyzed now...but being the competitor he is, he has not quit.

In his room he has a huge soccer poster with an inscription on it. Before you read the inscription below, take a quick self-evaluation.

Are you unhappy? You could be sadder.
Are you unfulfilled? You could be more barren.
Do you feel life is unfair? Yep, and more for some than others.
Are you paralyzed and 19? No, you probably are not.

In the midst of the most tragic and terrifying of circumstances, our young former soccer player looks at his poster with the inscription every day, then focuses on a comeback.

"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact...it's an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration, it's a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing."

Whatever it is that bothers you today, get over it.

What do YOU want?

I want passionate feelings about things, but passion is like walking a tight-rope at times…

I want to know ‘why?’…

I want to be young again, but with my experienced mind…

I want children to stay children; kind, thirsting for knowledge, forgiving…

I want the tragedy of hunger to disappear…

I want someone to tell me why I need 5 remotes for 1 television…

I want more piano and less clarinet…

I want peace, but I don’t know who can grant me – or anyone for that matter – this virtue…

I want rain for the dry and sunshine for the cold…

I want to know ‘why not?’…

I want the most important thing I have to decide today to be which baseball cap to wear…

I want September 10th, 2001 again…

I want love to be love, and hatred to be a word that disappears from our lexicon…

I want our service men and women to stay strong, focused, and resolute…

I want our politicians to do the same as our military, but I’ll settle for any one of the three right now because I know politician's are limited intellectually…

I want what you want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…






I want a lot of things…


I cannot have.

Red, White And Blue