Archive for February, 2008|Monthly archive page

Today was just a test

had it been real, it would have cost more, been more painful, and possibly required therapy to recover from.

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patriotism is the highest form of dissent

along with things like courage, service in the armed forces, unabashed masculinity, and belief in honor and duty.

I find LT G’s story of wearing his Guinness socks to his commissioning a little too precious. Oh, he’s brave enough to stare death in the face, but for some reason feels he must demonstrate his rebellion against authority or his frail little identity might be crushed. How precious. Is mandatory rebellion meaningful, or merely a conceit?

LT G is the embodiment of transgression in the post-modern world; he is patriotic, courageous, skilled in the use of arms, and honorable. What socks have to do with it I can’t begin to fathom, but we all have our little conceits and idiosyncrasies. And, he’s cav; what do you expect? At least they’re Guinness socks. That shows character.

Bush welcome in Africa

I’m posting this just cuz.

Bush has done a lot of good internationally, as did Clinton before him.  Neither seems to get much domestic respect for their work, and Bush doesn’t get much outside of Africa, it seems.

Obama: Yes, we can – Sí se puede

This Obama video by Will.i.am of the Black-Eyed Peas is actually kinda cool.

Whatever one’s thoughts on immigration, it’s interesting that ‘Yes We Can’ is the English for the Spanish ‘Sí se puede,’ which was one of the mottoes of the illegal alien amnesty movement.

I won’t be voting for Obama for the reason he lays out on his website:

Bringing Our Troops Home

Obama will immediately begin to remove our troops from Iraq. He will remove one to two combat brigades each month, and have all of our combat brigades out of Iraq within 16 months. Obama will make it clear that we will not build any permanent bases in Iraq. He will keep some troops in Iraq to protect our embassy and diplomats; if al Qaeda attempts to build a base within Iraq, he will keep troops in Iraq or elsewhere in the region to carry out targeted strikes on al Qaeda.

That policy throws away everything that’s been gained in Iraq, and I won’t vote for that regardless of other issues on the table.

h/t politburo diktat 2.0

Socialism is the opiate of the capitalist intellectual elite

Socialism is the opiate of the capitalist intellectual elite. It is a myth that confirms his belief that only he and those like him hold the secret to a better society, if only society would listen. It is a myth that pumps hot air into his ego to make up for the fact that he produces nothing, that is, it is a myth that encloses his head like a bag and hides the abyss he has embraced from his own sight.

These socialist intellectuals have never cared for the worker; they have almost never been producers, except of words and ideas: conceptual bags. When they have arisen from the working class, it has often been as a rejection of it, an escape from a life they are unsuited for, and their zeal for the bag of the intellectual elite is that of a convert. The vast majority cannot relate to the worker. They hold the worker’s certainties, family, flag, and faith, in sometimes ill-disguised, sometimes open, contempt. Their ideals, and their policies, when they convince politicians to implement them and when society’s storytellers embody them in novel and on screen, result in the destruction of the working class by amputating its soul, crushing its dignity, and most of all, by disabling intimacy and caging each worker in an individual emotional prison isolated from family and true friends.

Socialism is romantic, socialism is teenage rebellion writ large, socialism is magical thinking on its grandest scale.

iowaChaucer

with an archbishop of canterbury tale:

7 The pilgryms toward Canterbury wended

8 Wyth fyve weke holiday leave extended

9 In hybryd Prius and Subaru

10 Off the Boughton Bypasse, east on M2.

11 Fouer and Twyntie theye came to seke
12 The Arche-Bishop, wyse and meke

13 Labouryte and hippye, Gaye and Greene

14 Anti-warre and libertyne

15 All sondry folke urbayne and progressyve

16 Vexed by Musselmans aggressyve.

Tommy

I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:

O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it’s “Thank you, Mr. Atkins,” when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-‘alls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,
The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.

Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy how’s yer soul?”
But it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren’t no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;

While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind,”
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind,
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires an’ all:
We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country,” when the guns begin to shoot;
An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
But Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool – you bet that Tommy sees!

– Rudyard Kipling

After I posted this, I ran across a recent milblogger post in the same vein.

I will never ever do this

but it sure looks like major fun!

(fun starts at about the halfway mark)

Over?

Bluto: Over? Did you say “over”? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain’t over now. ‘Cause when the goin’ gets tough… [thinks hard] the tough get goin’! Who’s with me? Let’s go! [runs out, alone; then returns] What the #$%& happened to the Delta I used to know? Where’s the spirit? Where’s the guts, huh? “Ooh, we’re afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble.” Well just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I’m not gonna take this. Wormer, he’s a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer –

Otter: Dead! Bluto’s right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now, we could fight ’em with conventional weapons, but that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part.

Bluto: We’re just the guys to do it.

D-Day: Let’s do it.

Bluto: LET’S DO IT!!

(from Animal House )