Saturday, June 24, 2006

Ok. I'm hacked off for only about the 1200th time since we began the Global War on Terror.

The war began years ago. I guess the serious war on the West began in 1979 when stooges reacting to the emergence to power of the anti-west fundamentalist Ayatollah Khomeini reacted in an anti-west fervor (similar to the Nazi fervor of the '30s) against the US embassy in Teheran.

Subsequent to that various radical Islamists have showed their courage by dumping an elderly man in a wheelchair from a cruise ship (Leon Klinghoffer from the Achille Lauro), ganging up on a brave young man who happened to have a US passport and beating him to death (Robert Stetham), and blowing up an assortment of old folks' homes, pizza parlors and school buses in Israel. I particularly applaud their vast courage in blowing up little children. In a stellar show of statesmanship and courage they boarded several airliners and used boxcutters to gut stewardesses (I thought women were "special" in Islam) until the pilots could no longer stand things and handed the controls over to soulless butchers who flew the aircraft into buildings containing people who had nothing whatsoever to do with stated Islamic issues with US policies.

Are we pissed? Hell yes. And we've showed it in the form of stealth aircraft, AC-130s, Apache Longbows, heavily amored/armed troops, etc. Some would call it an "assymetric" response--responding to agression from terrorists and the odd poorly trained/equipped military with 21st Century weapons and tactics, but if you don't want to find yourself staring at an Apache Longbow, don't gas our subways or bomb our buildings. It's that easy.

A few years ago we coerced Israel into making concessions to the Palestinian Authority (which entity came about because we twisted Israel's arm in the first place} and the PA rewarded us by holding one hell of a party on the night of 9/11. Screw you guys. And which Imam has come forward to condemn the murders in the name of Islam? I'll give you a minute. Yep---not one. A few governments have stepped forward, notably Pakistan, but nowhere have the people risen up en masse and decried the outright murders of 9/11.

So am I worked up about Abu Ghraib? Well, it shouldn't have happened. But just how, John Murtha, does a couple of war weary kids doing stupid things rate against an enemy that revels in death? Lynndie England, the barely functional moron who is the Abu Ghraib poster girl, did stupid things with her comrades. But they didn't saw any heads off, they didn't string burnt, executed bodies from bridges--you get the point (or do you in your political ambitions)?. How about our latest casualties, Kristian Menchaca and Thomas Tucker? They were so horrendously tortured and beaten that our people had to resort to DNA to identify them. They weren't caught in a bombing strike that blew them up--they were captured and their bodies were deliberately and systematically destroyed while they screamed in agony. What do you think, John "Ambition" Murtha, Teddy "Swimmer" Kennedy and John "Buddyf*cker" Kerry? Are we fighting a fight best kept on their soil or should we stand down and let them bring the fight back to us again one clear September day?

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Well, it's 2:00 AM and I'm just now getting through a day and getting ready to bed down so I can get through another day, but I just had an extraordinary moment.

Saw the last moments of a movie. One the the "Godfather" movies, but I don't know which one other than I know it's not the first. I don't know exactly what was going on, but it seemed to be a number of "hits" while people watched an opera. It culminated with a family exiting the opera house and being caught in a cross fire in which a daughter was hit and killed.

I have news for the world. If anyone ever hurts my daughter, he or she had better kill me first. Because if I am alive, I will bring a world of hurt on that person that he or she will never forget (at least until the point of death). And death won't be instantaneous. I kid you not.

I don't make threats. I issue promises.

Just some late night thoughts. You may date my daughter, but if you hurt her, I'll make you wish you had never been born. I promise.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Sports are not the be-all and end-all for me, but since we live in an area where it would be pretty difficult to get eight or ten guys together for a pickup game (although we certainly have the land for it), boys' baseball and girls' softball have become a part of our lives. I've gotten involved in baseball, mostly to my distress (although as NOTR points out it may qualify me as a US/Iraqi liaison), but that's my own mistake.

Anyway, quite an evening today. It's the last round of the end-of-season tournament and SnakeEater Jr's team is hot in the chase. Last year they were the team to beat and somehow just lost momentum in the tournament. This year they have been incredibly inconsistent. Over the course of the season they succeeded in losing several games to teams that they should have beaten handily. It's just been wierd that way. Tonight they trailed the hands-down best team in the league for most of the game, but always stayed close enough that everyone knew the game wasn't over just yet. A Junior League game lasts seven innings--this game went nine before a winner emerged and SnakeEater Jr's team finally took it 6-4. SnakeEater Jr personally drove in two runs and made a great catch to put a batter out. He also employed his bazooka of an arm to keep a couple of runners at bay.

Took him, the Bear and one of Bear's friends out for ice cream after the game. We'd have gone for ice cream either way, but I'm sure it tasted just a bit better this way.

It's best two out of three, so I'm not rejoycing yet. But they rose up and beat a team that they've never beaten before. Game Two comes Wednesday. I damn near had to restart my heart several times tonight--I can't imagine what Wednesday will be like...

(On a really evil note, the manager's nancy-boy son was away today, so he wasn't a factor in the game. Expect him to be a [negative] factor in Wednesday's game)

Sunday, June 18, 2006

How do you fire vounteers?

Damnded if I know, but the umpire coordinators got fired. That was the job I did last year by myself. It proved to be an incredibly difficult job--far worse than I ever imagined--by I refuse to quit, so I rode it out and did the job.

Well, the umpire coordinators (two--I was only one) got canned yesterday and guess who the league went to in order to finish the season. Yep, good ol' dumbass SnakeEater.

Fortunately I have my contacts from last year and am in good terms with all of them. The couple that took the job this year alienated a lot of the umps. So I have to pick up the pieces and drive on. I'm not complaining--not at all--the most important thing is to keep the league going for the kids, and I've already covered most of the games (might take a few myself), just commenting on league sports. I think I've said this before, but it takes adults to really f*ck up sports for kids.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Hit the landfill/recycling center the other day to offload a whole bunch of tree branches (which will be turned into mulch) and paper.

I have a "Dubya" sticker on the truck. I'm not at all ashamed that I voted for him instead of the weenie/buddy f*cker that the Democrats nominated. He's not perfect, but he slowed the economic downturn that Clinton initiated and above all we're fighting Islamic fundamentalism on their turf, not ours.

Anyway, some woman who was also offloading plastic or something saw my sticker and made a snide comment about "stupid" (the Democrat fantasy that Dubya, who has a history of shrewd corporate decisions and got elected twice, is a stupid man...) and "illegal" war.

Headed down the road to the gas station and incredibly, there she is right in front of me. The kids reacted first and said "Hey, there's the woman who yelled at you at the recycling center". I got out of the truck and said "Yep, it's her". At that point I saw HER bumper stickers, of which there were at least eight. They were so trite that it defies intellect. One which I remember simply stated "Cheney is a Creep". Wow--what an intellectual rebuttal of the current administration's policies!

Being as she felt compelled to yell at me (as I--gasp--recycled things, something that everyone knows Republicans don't do), I felt obligated to comment on the lack of intellect reflected by her bumper stickers. She ended up yelling at me in the gas station that I had "anger issues". Hmmm--Who had the stupid bumper stickers and had to shout at me at the recycling center???

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

I've been meaning to post this link for quite some time now. An excellent article on baseball:

Baseball's Timeless Appeal

Monday, June 05, 2006

Haven't had much time or inclination to post lately, so I'll just post some random thoughts to keep the blog alive for the time being.

Baseball: Gotta love the game, gotta hate being one of the people who helps keep the league going. Last year I scheduled umpires for games and it was a rough go. Out of a roster of 55 umpires, 23 of whom give a fig, it's hard to find umpires to cover some 32+ games a week. I took my medicine and covered most of the games but made it known at the end of the season that I wouldn't schedule umpires again. This year I was called at the last minute and asked to be the commissioner for the Jr and Sr leagues. I took it. This year the umpire guy (trying to do the right thing--in his mind) accidentally alienated most of the experienced umpires and umpire coverage this year has been dismal. I've had to call off a few games and ask coaches to be creative for a few more. I ended up umpiring a game on Saturday--not something I mind, but it's tough calling your son out. Almost blew a call because a guy on my son's team made a sweet tag--but dropped the ball. I was so excited by the tag I didn't see the ball hit the ground, just saw it roll away.

School: This year was 8th grade graduation. Now, to me 8th grade graduation is an odd concept--yet another overdoing of things...someone once told me recently that her kid "graduated" kindergarten and they had to rent a cap and gown. Fortunately it wasn't as bad as a cap and gown kindergarten "graduation". Not quite, anyway. When I was in 8th grade we just sort of segued to high school. We knew it was a new atmosphere with lots of new people, but we knew we'd see each other. In the case of a parochial school, there's a real diaspora. The kids, most of whom have been together since kindergarten (nine years), are being spread out among a good 15 high schools, so there's a sense of moving on. Hence the big deal over 8th grade "graduation". Incredibly, I got a bit maudlin, thinking about some of the guys I might not see again. I've been lucky to go on a lot of field trips over the years and incredibly, some of the guys find me "cool". There's Fred, who always smiles. Cory, whom I'd vote most likely to fall down an abandoned elevator shaft, but is a good guy. There's Beefy (his dad's nickname), who is the only 13-year old in the world who can pull off a bow tie and sunglasses. Marc, tall and happy. Drew--a quiet, introspective guy whom I can't draw out but was my son's best buddy. Calvin, who stands six-six(at 14-years)and works at the local ice cream shop. They all greet me, even when I'm not there for a field trip, with "Hi, J...'s Dad". I'll miss that.

Gaduation: An interesting event. I'm no prude by a long shot, but I was amazed by the number of girls (13/14-year olds) literally wobbling on their 5-6 inch heels as they filed in sans uniform for graduation. One girl (a teacher's daughter) wore a dress in which the hemline bobbed up and down and very nearly exposed her bottom (I kid you not). Another girl showed more cleavage than I imagined possible in a 13/14-year old. Yet another girl wobbled in on stilletto heels which wrapped around her ankles as her shirt showed off predernaturally advanced mammalian features. So much for the idea of staid churchgoers...

Birthday: Got another year older Saturday and spent the evening stripping and polishing the kitchen floor. I'd hoped to be stripping something else on my birthday. Sigh.