Quagmire

Not sure where I got this picture, I wish I could say I made it. (You have seen my stick figures, right?)

I would be pissed (but I would get over it) if we leave this quagmire and not get the job done. That is all I am saying.

My Life

My Life is not really like the picture. You can comment, ask questions, or just plain tell me to get bent. Really, you can, I am not even kidding this time. Just know, if I disagree with you, I will let you know. If I think you are an asshole, I will definitely tell you. (I would hate for an asshole to go through life and not know.) It is the mushy shit that I have problems with. I am working on it. It is definitely easier with beer.

God, Part 2b

----I already did a post on God when I first started this blog and I also did a follow-up in which is not posted here on this blog, so when titling this post you can convey the dismay.----

My belief is man (of course enter the appropriate noun for your cranium because it would hurt my fucking feelings that I didn't abide by your fucking stupid word choice that has no bearing on what I am really trying to fucking say here) has four kinds of souls; 2 basic types of souls with two sub categories for each. There is the saved and the damned.

In the saved category you have those that preach the word of their* God and those who by default are saved just because they have lived a good natural life whether they believe or not.

In the damned category you have warriors of God and warriors of evil. If feel there is no point in explained what evil is and who or what God is for the purpose of this discussion so I will continue from here. The warriors of which ever "side" has and does take on the offense to do some deed that will keep this soul from being saved.

Now that I have solved the mysteries of life right here for everyone, let's all pause and have a beer.

Note: If you do not believe in any of the bologna that I just posted that is okay you don't have to. That is the beauty of "free will."

The Many Home Returns

The conversation was brought up about coming home. To me, the lead up and the day of is always the crappiest and most depressing day of my life. This is where you say "why, you just got back from ____(fill in wherever I went this time)" and this is where the story takes place.

I was married for one return, but it was the ending of that marriage, so it may not count. There is by my count three types of returns that Marines have. One, you are in a pine box. Depressing as that may be, that Marine will now be guarding the street of Heaven. Two, you are married or have a significant other and is greeted with cheers, hugs, kisses. All things are forgiven for that day for that couple and everyone is "happy." Three, the single man or very soon to be single man(insert the female nouns/pronouns where applicable) comes home to virtually nothing. No hugs, kisses. There might a hug or kiss from a by-stander but it temporary. Once that Marine finally grounds his gear in where ever he may stay(live) then what. The what is the happening. I have found over the years it is best to find a bar and have a few drinks. Usually only a few is good enough and a cab will be the next thing you see. The worst thing, in my opinion, is to stay in the barracks that day or the next few days, because that is where depression will really kick in. It is best to find someone to be with for at least the next 3 or 4 days. Even if you hate that person it is better than being alone.

So in short, the actual day of return just fucking sucks. All I ever wanted to do is get away of the merry wishers and married people because it all seemed so fake. Great, someone is happy I am "home" but are you going to hold me like lovers do when I drift off to sleep? No, you are not. You don't even know my first name. You may smile and you may hug me when I step off from that plane, helicopter, or bus but you will not be with me for that tender loving care that I really need six hours after.

You are reading this and thinking one of two things. First one, you are thinking,"that is too fucking bad, oh well." Second, is "I am going to do something about it. " The truth is you can't do anything. The truth is you can't give what is needed or wanted. The truth is even after this deployment or the next there will be thousands of men and women that you can't do anything for. And that is where one of the sacrifices that we volunteers of the armed forces have agreed upon. To me, that is okay, I have hardened my life and built that wall around me so my emotions are not a factor. Don't give me that fake smile and tell me you are glad to see me, instead wrap you arm around me and let's sit down and have a beer. We can talk about the good times and the good times to come.

Up in The Morning With The Iraqi Sun

After several promotions this morning this was the sky.

Letters - The Answer Expanded, Part II

Since I am an avid fan of mail (that is not bills) I finished writing my "Christmas cards" tonight. I sent out about two dozen or so. I did something different this year, which I think may be caused by my "new" surroundings this year.

Well, the people I have an address for that sent a letter or care package, will receive a card from me. So not to be left out(my current audience) my year in review is right here. This blog. Even though I have been careful about OpSec (Operation Security) everyone should be able to get the idea what has happened to me and the Marines of MALS-29 REIN.

A Word About Mail, Maybe Two

I cannot express enough in words the appreciation for the letters, postcards and especially the care packages that I have received during this 13 to 14 month deployment. I cannot say if it would have been bearable without the love and dedication I (we) received in the mail.

If you (the person reading this) has my address here in the Area of Operation (AO) please do not send anything else past December 15th.

If you do it reminds me about a letter I was recieved from my Mom 3 years and 7 months late. It was sent to an address similar to the one I have now and did not reach its destination until after I had left and went back to my garrison command. Well, that letter "floated" through the system until it ultimately found me in Arizona. (Which I am not stationed there anymore either.) I still have the envelope it has stamps form seventeen different military posts and international post offices. While it is nice to know the mail system still works even after you leave an AO, it is just better to not test out the system.

RevGals Friday Five: The Grinch Edition

Will smama has included a Friday Five that is right up my alley, the kind you beat with a stick then run it over with your car.

Please tell us(RevGals) your least favorite/most annoying seasonal....

1) dessert/cookie/family food
I do not know what it is called it is white, round has nuts in it, some sort of powdery substance an the outside, it is only seen during this time of the year, whatever it may be called I hate it. Always have. Seems like "old" like to have them in in abundance and when you visit it is in you rbest interest to eat several or you will be beat by a cane. (Or something like that.)

2) beverage (seasonal beer, eggnog w/ way too much egg and not enough nog, etc...)
Eggnog by itself makes me want to hurl, but if you add enough brandy anything can be tolerable.

3) tradition (church, family, other)
I don't have any "Christmas" traditions anymore so maybe that is my complaint.

4) decoration
It is not anyone decoration but the one who is competing with Clark Griswald, those people should be *****. ( I can't really express my feelings on a blog about this one.)

5) gift (received or given)
The one where you receive and everyone in the room knows it is crappy gift but you smile and tell the person who gave it to you, that it is something you always wanted and then give it away at the next year's Christmas party.

BONUS: SONG/CD that makes you want to tell the elves where to stick it.
Bing Crosby's White Christmas - I can't stand it ever since being stuck in a snow drift two stories tall , while in a '79 Ford Bronco which the heater didn't work well, and not very much "cold weather" clothing for the "short" trip to Grandma's house in some Christmas during the eighties and the only song playing "it seems" was that, on the radio.

Honorable Even if Not Entirely True

I recieved an email deplicting it was an article from Jay Leno. Well, being the avid researcher of truth, I went to Snopes.com to verify its authenticty. It was not by Jay Leno, there is a quote by him in the closing paragraph in the email, but that was it. The actual articel was written by Craig R. Smith.



Here is an excerpt from that article appearing in the World Net Daily:



Made in the USA: Spoiled brats
Posted: November 20, 2006
1:00 a.m. Eastern


The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true given the source, right? The same magazine that employs Michael (Qurans in the toilets at Gitmo) Isikoff. Here I promised myself this week I would be nice and I start off in this way. Oh what a mean man I am.

The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the president. In essence 2/3s of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.

So being the knuckle dragger I am, I starting thinking, ''What we are so unhappy about?''

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?


If you would like to read the full article go to: http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=53028

The Many Uses...

Of Motrin. Probably the most common "candy" a Marine will get in his(her) career.

Today is a mix of Dr. Pepper and 800mg Motrin.

A Busy Thursday(ish), Part II

The day is not done but the major hurdles are. I did not get quality sleep like I meant to do prior to my PFT. I did, however, perform a First Class. It is not a high one, but first class the same. I was also a afforded the opportunity to weigh-in which would have been done at 0800 the following day. It is confirmed I gained thirty pounds since arriving in Iraq. People keep telling me I don't look fat, but I still feel that way. I did not, however(pause for effect), make it to the Post Office. So I will still have to make that trek tomorrow or the next day. I probably got about two good hours of sleep afterwards, I probably need ten. (I am not a spring chicken anymore.) I got to work, did my shift change, and sent the day crew "home." I held my meeting and now I am chugging coffee at a new rate which will most likely cause me to sleep crappy again tomorrow.

A Busy Thursday(ish)

I work at night time, if you haven't gathered that already. Pretty soon I am going to attempt to sleep. This means leaving work early and sleeping at a time not normal for my body. (Times like this in the states are usually accompanied with a couple of favorite frosty beverages.) Then during the time I am normally asleep at my heaviest hour, I am going to run a PFT(Physical Fitness Test). After which I am going to try and mail several boxes of accumulated items back to the states. Afterwards with hopefully a successful Post Office trip, I will go back into work(for the "next" day). The Packer game should kick off sometime between 03 and 05 (following day) which the only problem arises with the end of my shift when my boss(the Captain) would rather see me doing something else(not watching football on his TV).

So tomorrow(today) should be a fun busy day.

Five of My Favorite Gifts of All Time

Rev Kim tagged for me this meme, to "name five of your favorite all time gifts. Either given or gotten." I am game for it, but this will be a tough one, okay.

One) A fire truck. Not just any type of fire truck but a fire truck I could drive(pedal). I would have to say I was five maybe four, hard to say. Yeah, that one was awesome.

Two) A Green Bay Packer cribbage board. Two things I enjoy in one present, what is not to like.

Three) Green Bay Packer Stadium Blanket. The darn thing comes in handy in all sorts of places. (In my adult years I have gotten pretty easy to shop for.)

Four) Leatherman Kick. Two years ago, in Japan, at the avionics Christmas Party. I use it everyday.

Five) A kiss. Christmas 2004.

I will tag everyone I didn't give a gift to in the last thirty years. (That should cover the blog sphere.)

The Valders Journal

I know the majority of my readers have no clue what the "Valders Journal" is and no idea where in the world Valders may be. Well, it is a small village about the center of Manitowoc County in Wisconsin. Did that help? How about 10 miles west of Manitowoc by way of US Highway 151? That should help you find it a bit easier. The Valders Journal is the paper for that village.
Simple. Now the tough questions are answered.

I receive the Journal about two to three weeks after the printing. Oh wait, I didn't tell you the obvious answer, this is where I am from. So this paper, that I receive about half a month late, is always filled with something interesting. I like to look at this as the local news with pizazz and small town humor. The writing is superb and I know they have won awards so don't take this too lightly.

There are many times in which I really, really want to write an editorial. But I suppose it may be my better judgement that stops me. If you haven't figured it out, I have a lot of opinions.

There is always a part of the second page that talks about "today's" history, which I think is important, even though sometimes the facts are one sided sometimes. Of course, I get to keep up on the high school sports and see the progress through the seasons. "News of Record" tells of tragedy and heartache. The Outdoor Report gets a laugh on occasion with his Olga and Swen jokes.(If you don't know, just nod and grin.) The part that I seem to always enjoy is this opinion article by Gregg Novacheck titled "What the Parrot Saw." His writing style to me seems similar to mine. Very funny stuff and to me is the paper seller.

The Learning Curve

Wouldn't you know it, as soon as I get the flow of letter writing going, I have work to do. The "work" at the time required my attention. It was the senior man rule. It involved our famous aircraft. The one that no one wants to work with. (Except those who use them daily.)

That is why the senior man rule comes in. Who ever the senior man is, that is the guy or gal that gets his ass handed to them if something is amiss. It is a great system unless you are that senior man.

The "work" is currently off doing the thing that I put in motion. Tomorrow will be the test of time. If I don't get my ass handed to me, then I made the right decision. If I do, that is what we call "a learning experience."

Christmas Hangman

For fun.

Word Verification

If you have commented here before you know that I do not have a word verification. (In fact, I don't use Blogger for my comments at all.) There are many(bloggers) that do. And I would venture a guess that 95 percent have a word verification. Why?

I know what it is for, but does anyone really have a problem with this? This = "robots" leaving unwanted messages of his or her blog. I don't know anyone with this problem.

I did have this problem with a guestbook I had for my website, but I was using php and I have now corrected that problem.

Here is the next point, where are the words? I can't remember a time where there was a word. It was just a jumbled mess of letters and sometimes numbers. Why even call it a word verification if there are no words?

The last point or statement or question is: Let's all get rid of this waste of time. Say "No" to word verification.

That is my story and I sticking with it.

Happened Upon

I happened upon this article by Peggy Noonan in the Wall Street Journal. Wacky. Here is an excerpt and a link. I thought it inspired a thought or two.

People Before Prophets
We're making too much of politicians' religious faith.

Friday, November 23, 2007 12:01 a.m. EST

I was talking with an old friend, a longtime Democrat, and she asked if I knew what religion a certain presidential candidate was. I replied that I didn't know and hoped I'd never find out. We started to laugh, and she nodded.

I didn't mean it and yet I meant it, for we have come to an odd pass regarding candidates and their faith. It's not as if faith is unimportant, it's always important. But we are asking our political figures--mere flawed politicians--to put forward and talk about their faith to a degree that has become odd. We push them against the wall and do a kind of theological frisk on them. We didn't use to.

Forty years ago, a firm-jawed, silver-haired Michigan governor made a serious bid for the presidency. He was well-funded, well-credentialed, and was done in by one of those campaign gaffes in which a throwaway line becomes a death knell. He had changed his position on Vietnam, and in explaining his previous support said he'd been "brainwashed" on the issue. Americans don't like their presidents to be people who'd allow their brains to be sent to the dry cleaners. Republicans in particular were not amused. So he was over.

His name was George Romney. He was Mitt's father. And no one back in those narrow-minded, benighted days seems to have cared that much that he was a Mormon.

Now it's an issue. Now we debate the candidate's faith.

This is change. Is it progress?

It doesn't feel like it.

In 1968 we were, as now, a religious country. But when we walked to the polls, we thought we were about to hire a president, not a Bible study teacher.

No one cared, really, that Richard Nixon was a Quaker. They may have been confused by it, but they weren't upset. His vice president, Spiro Agnew, was not Greek Orthodox but Episcopalian. Nobody much noticed. Nelson Rockefeller of New York was not an Episcopalian but a Baptist. Do you know what Lyndon Johnson's religion was? He was a member of the Disciples of Christ, but in what appeared to be the same way he was a member of the American Legion: You're in politics, you join things. Hubert Humphrey was born Lutheran, attended Methodist churches, and was rumored to be a Congregationalist. This didn't quite reach the level of mystery because nobody quite cared.

Question Twenty Three

The importance to question twenty three can be calculated in measures of life and death but rarely is that extreme. Could be considered as important as the Council of Trent or landing a of the lunar module on the moon.

I think it is best we examine the question in parts.

The first section, What is, I believe is self explanatory but I added a hyper link any way. The second part, Captain, Captain Morgan, the preferred is the Spiced Rum, but others in their wacky tastes might go with some other not as good flavor. The next part is coke, truly Coca Cola is the best but may be substituted with other varieties. This falls into the category of why fuck up a good thing. The last part, in a tub, is a carry over from a couple of generations ago, it is the use of a large usually wide glass with no stem. The idea is to get rid of the stupid shit so one can enjoy the drink. This can be especially helpful if you have a large nose.

This is an obvious addition that there should be no junk in the drink. Junk refers to fruit and vegetables. Some people not really interested in the drink believe having junk in their drink enhances it, but in truth they really look naive and probably should be beaten with a wet noodle, something to match the brain power.

This post is not meant to offend anyone, but if it did there are people that can help you and you will win a jacket that will be your last jacket you will ever wear.

Vacations, Part II

I think I may need a vacation.
Somewhere that serves chilled beer.
A place where I can talk to a woman and maybe get lucky.
A venue with good music.
A place I can not worry.
Somewhere that knows what a "Captain and coke in a tub" means.
A place with conversation.
Somewhere not close.
Somewhere not far away.
A locale with a massage parlor nearby.
An area with fresh air.
A place that everyone is not carrying a weapon.
An area that has real beds.
Somewhere PDOA is okay.
I think I need a vacation.