And Then There Were Two

One of those things you know is going to happen, but you just wish it wouldn't.

J. Russell Coffey just passed away at the age of 109. Mr. Coffey was one of the last surviving veterans of the First World War. Mr. Coffey never "saw the elephant", but he stepped forward and joined the army and served his country during time of war, so he gets just as much credit as anyone else.

I don't know the tally for the entire world--whether any veterans survive in France, Belgium, Germany, etc. but I do know that there are now exactly two WWI veterans left in the US: Frank Buckles, who is 106, and Harry Richard Landis, who is 108. There is one veteran still living in the UK, Robert Taggert and he is 107.

These guys saw a conflict that rewrote the world map and now they are all but gone.

I wish Godspeed to Mr. Coffey and hope that the others continue to grace us with their presence for some time to come.

Can You Say "Jackass"?

I've been skiing for over 30 years. For all that time I'm not all that great, but I hit the slopes and have a good time. I've eaten several cubic meters of snow along the way, wrecked a knee (surgery--three weeks in the hospital) and once took a glove off to find it filled with blood. I once saw a guy fall and leave a red streak on the snow. I stood on Killington Peak stupidly wearing jeans when the wind chill was so far below zero that I lost count (not that it takes much to make me lose count, but anyway).

And I still use old style two-meter skis. None of that parabolic stuff.

None of the above has stopped me. It's a lot of fun. Things can happen, but I take my life in my hands every time I go down to the main road and cross it to get the mail.

Events occur. You just deal with it. And if you hit the slopes and are a grownup, you know that things can happen.

But check out this complete jackass. I already wrote Reader's Digest (the plaintiff works for the magazine) and told them to stuff my subscription up their collective posterior.

Ok. I'm officially inspired to create my Christmas list and it's all because of this:

Who in his right mind could not want a jet-propelled sh*thouse?


Next it's the catamaran. I love sailing. Now, nothing comes close to the b*lls-to-the walls feeling of a serious broad reach, but the wife definitely doesn't like it when I have a monohull boat heeled over, lee railing touching the waves. Despite the peaks and valleys we experience, it seems likely that I'll remain married, so here's the compromise--a catamaran that won't heel, has lots of space below and enough deck space for some friends and a few adult drinks.



But a cat is only good for part of the year. The Nimble Kodiak isn't the prettiest sailboat in the world, but it's specifically made to keep you on the water after the leaves fall. You gotta love that.



Now this I just gotta have. I can run it up and down our road (we live off of the main road and own the road that accesses our house), or I can use it to run from the sailboat(s) to the chandler's or the local watering hole. I mean, who wouldn't want a motorized barstool?


And if a motorized barstool is a good thing, then a jet powered barstool can only be better, right?



Then there's the Bullit Mustang. I like exotic cars, and I also like good old American muscle. These days there's no longer so much of a dichotomy--American cars are pretty much as refined as European cars, so I can take a trip down memory lane (Remember Steve McQueen in "Bullit" driving his Mustang in one of the greatest chase scenes ever filmed ?) and also drive a world class car.



Not that any of the above are ever going to happen, but a guy can hope, right?

So, in the same vein, I'll have to admit that if I were ever to find Laura Prepon or Angie Everhart under the tree, I wouldn't mind unwrapping them.

A great web site for all of the other old pharts out there:

When Life was in Black and White

THE DOG KNOWS

Have you ever heard that a dog 'knows' when an earthquake is about to hit?

Have you ever heard that a dog can 'sense' when a tornado is stirring up, even twenty miles away?

Do you remember hearing that, before the December tsunami struck Southeast Asia, dogs
started running frantically away from the seashore at breakneck speed?

Do you know that dogs can detect cancer and other serious illnesses and danger of fire?

Somehow they always know when they can 'go for a ride' before you even ask.

Do you know that companion dogs can detect a seizure coming on in time to have their
companion sit or lay down in preparation?

How do those dogs and cats get home from hundreds of miles away?

I'm a firm believer that animals - and especially dogs - have keen insights into The Truth. You
can't tell me that dogs can't sense a potentially terrible disaster well in advance.

Simply said, a good ol' hound dog just KNOWS when something isn't right, when impending
doom is upon us.

I'm doing some deep thinking right now. My friend Murf asked me a question that I had a knee jerk answer for, but I decided to dedicate some thought to it instead (I guess that's why I'm not a Democrat).

Anyway, here's a little (somewhat belated) Veterans' Day fact. When you hear of our disappearing veterans, mull this one over. There are exactly three US WWI veterans left on this planet. Three. One Navy and two Army, if I recall. And there is exactly one British veteran.

WWI was a bigger war than most realize. Outside of the horror of the trenches, the death and devastation of no-man's-land, the introduction of mass casualties through the machine gun and poison gases, it had incredibly far reaching effects. The entire middle east was redrawn as a result of the war. Kuwait didn't exist. Ever seen "The Sound of Music" and wondered how an Austrian could be a naval officer? Until the end of the war, Austria was part of an empire that stretched to the Mediterranean Sea. The geopolitical consequences of that war persist (and often haunt us) to this day.

And the day is upon us when very shortly there will be no one left to tell us about it in the first person.

Time was, not so long ago, when some people got over calling troops bad names.

People objected to the Vietnam war, so in their infinite intelligence, they took their hostile feelings out on the troops. "The troops" were mostly draftees who didn't have much say in things, so the hostility against them defies logic. The professional soldiers were (and are) just that, so calling them names defies logic as well--they're simply doing what their country calls upon them to do.

After the first Gulf War there was a resurgence--people suddenly realized that the military was doing things that were in the best interest of us as a country. But now it seems that the left opposes our policy of killing people who want to kill us first and now want to take out their hatred of the government on the troops. Kind of odd that a party that claims to love everyone and accuses the opposition of hate should harbor such hate--but this is nothing new. Hate the war--if you're that ignorant--but hating the troops is moronic.

Thomas Atkins was a legendary soldier in the British army, hence British soldiers are often referred to as "Tommys".

So here, for Teddy "I drowned a girl in a drunken accident and got away with it" Kennedy and his ilk (Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi and the entire bunch of Democrats running for president, especially Hillary "I just deserve it" Clinton):

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, Mister 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, 'ow'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;
  An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Rudyard Kipling

In memory of all who have risen to their country's call and served, particularly the late John Wallace (United States Navy, WWII) and my friend William Meyers; a gentle, soft spoken man who once participated in the greatest campaign as a crew member in a B-24 bomber:

WHAT IS A VET?

Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

WHAT IS A VET?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.

You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL.

He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".

Remember November 11th is Veterans Day

"It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the flag."

Father Denis Edward O'Brien
USMC

This just wrong.

Yep, an elderly, wheelchair-using nun being frisked at a US airport by a veiled Muslim. Gotta love that TSA.


Credits:

Found the photo at an interesting blog called Klein Verzet, which I found via The Jawa Report.

The guys who flew and maintained these babies did more for our country than Hilly, Billy, Teddy, Nancy, Harry and Little Johnnie Murtha combined.

And unlike all of the above (Murtha excepted...grudgingly) they weren't "too good" to serve. And die.

This is supposed to be a joke, but it's so true that it's not really even funny.

Bob Sheiffer, Tom Brokaw, Katie Couric and a tough old U.S. Marine sergeant were all captured by terrorists in Iraq. The leader of the terrorists told them that he would grant them each one last request before they were beheaded.

Sheiffer said, "I'd like one last bowl of hot spicy chili." The leader nodded to an underling who left and returned with the chili. Sheiffer ate it and said, "Now I can die content."

Brokaw said, "I'd like to hear the song "America the Beautiful" one last time." The leader nodded to a terrorist who had studied the Western world and knew the music. He returned with some rag-tag musicians and played the anthem. Brokaw sighed and declared he could now die peacefully.

Couric said, "I'm a reporter to the end. I want to take out my tape recorder and describe the scene here and what's about to happen. Maybe someday someone will hear it and know that I was on the job till the end."

The leader agreed and Couric dictated some comments. She then said, "Now I can die happy."
The leader turned and said, "And now, Mr. U.S. Marine, what is your final wish?"

"Kick me in the ass," said the Marine.

"What?" asked the leader. "Will you mock us in your last hour?"

"No, I'm not kidding. I want you to kick me in the ass," insisted the Marine. So the leader shoved him into the open, and kicked him in the ass.

The Marine went sprawling, but rolled to his knees, pulled a 9mm pistol from inside his cammies, and shot the leader dead. In the resulting confusion, he leapt to his knapsack, pulled out his M4 carbine and sprayed the Iraqis with gunfire. In a flash, all the Iraqis were either dead or fleeing for their lives.

As the Marine was untying the three news anchors, "Ms Perky" asked him, "Why didn't you just shoot them in the beginning? Why did you ask them to kick you in the ass first?"

"What?" replied the Marine, "And have you three %$#(&#@@ report that I was the aggressor?"

A Green Beret walks into a bar and takes a seat next to a very attractive woman.

He gives her a quick glance then casually looks at his watch for a moment.

The woman looks at his wrist and remarks, "That's some watch. I've never seen anything like it before. What is it?"

"I just got this", he replies. "It's a new military issue. It has a small computer chip which has threat detection and situational awareness."

The intrigued woman asks, "What's so special about it?"

The Green Beret explains, "It can detect any threats within a 50 yard radius and gives me an awareness of my surroundings.

The woman asks, "What's it telling you now?"

"Well, according to what it says, you're not wearing any panties...."

The woman giggles and replies, "Well, it must be broken because I am wearing panties!"

He taps the face of his watch several times and says, "Aw, hell, the damn thing's an hour fast."

I'm absolutely thrilled by the seedings in the Democratic primary race. It appears so far that Hillary is the front runner with Obama following at a distance.

Fine with me.

Now, I'm not exactly thrilled with the Republican offerings, but I'm terrified by the Democratic offerings. Ergo I'm thrilled by the fact that the Democratic front runner is a thoroughly unlikeable person with stupid ideas and the second place runner--albeit a distant second place--is an absolute political lightweight who also has a lot of stupid ideas.

Hilly has no qualifications other than unfettered cold ambition and the fact that she is married to a former president. Of course, said president screwed around on her pretty much constantly and demonstrated his commitment to the furthering of womens' rights by keeping a girl roughly his daughter's age under his desk while he made phone calls to legislators and the fortunately now deceased Yassir Arafat. Yep, a real feminist icon. Can you say "misogynist?" But I quibble.

Hilly grew up in Illinois, met Bill in college in Connecticut, married him and ended up living in Arkansas. Yet her ego is so inflated that she simply decided she should be a senator for the state of New York. Never lived there, but she decided that by God, she deserved being a senator for New York. What an incredible display of all-consuming ego. Demonstrating their superior intellect, the people of New York actually elected her.

Doesn't matter that she's really never done anything other than work for the Rose law firm, during which time she was involved in some shady deals. The paperwork for those deals has mostly disappeared, but some suddenly appeared on a bureau in the White House and some was found in the trunk of a junked car. (yeah, I trust her...). Doesn't matter that she's done some incredibly stupid things such as deciding she was in charge of health care reform and held hearings that were illegal under the federal "sunshine" law. Doesn't matter that she's chosen two ill-vetted "poster children" for her moronic insurance idea (the idea that was hatched illegally)--it turned out that the first poster child was being poisoned by her mother, who is now in jail, and the second poster child comes from a family that claims indigence but actually owns their own business, a huge house and both children go to a private school to the tune of $20K/year each.

So Hilly's only qualification is ego. Oh, and that she's kinda sorta married to some guy who used to be president. But she has no sense whatsoever. And she is one cold fish (no wonder Billy keeps flouncing around with his fly open). Nobody likes her, not even her husband. So please, please--nominate her.

Barack Obama, the second runner, has pretty much the same qualifications as Hilly--"I want it and I deserve it". Why does he deserve it?--the same reason Hilly thinks she does: because he thinks he does and that makes it so. Is he a political lightweight? You bet. He recently announced he wanted to rid the planet of nuclear weapons, evoking the image of a breathless Miss America pageant contestant announcing that her project, should she be elected, will be to eliminate poverty and hunger throughout the world. Good luck to both Obama and the contestant. It ain't that simple.

It's probably quite nice living in a fog of naivite and denial, but some of the rest of us--those with the stones to go into the military--know better. Too bad Hilly and Billy were--in Billy's own words--"too good" for military service.

"Too good" If that doesn't speak absolute volumes, I don't know what does.

The Army is adopting a new parachute.

Freefall parachutes aside, the history of the Army parachute has pretty much been one of evolution. The current T-10 and MC-1 parachutes differ little from the T-7 and T-5 that preceded them. Mostly it's involved improving the material the parachute is made of and updating the buckles and snaps. While diameters have varied, all have been parabolic in shape. The MC-1 stands out in that it is the only steerable parachute, but frankly, it looks like a T-10 with a couple of holes in it, and the reserve is....a T-10. Well, a T-10R, which a T-10 with some modifications to make it suitable for use as a reserve.

Even the absolute latest MC-1 is nothing more than the old MC-1 made with a lower porosity fabric in order to slow the rate of descent. The MC-1 is only used by special operations forces, which tend to jump heavier than conventional forces, so the lower rate of descent was much welcomed, even though it means a more potent opening shock. I got hurt and had to leave the Army before 10th Group moved to Colorado, but I understand the first year of jumping in the thin mile-high air wasn't much fun until the lo-po canopy came along.

By the way, the reason for the two canopies, the T-10 and the MC-1, is that the 82nd regularly fills the sky with parachutes. In that sort of situation steerable canopies could create catastrophic collisions. A Special Forces group jumps far smaller numbers--as small as 12 at a time, therefore they can afford the extra luxury of a steerable canopy. Out of nearly 100 jumps I have exactly four T-10 jumps. You make five jumps in Airborne school and of the five you get one MC-1 jump, so I have four T-10 jumps from Airborne school.

The new canopy, the T-11, definitely breaks the mold. This is revolution, not evolution. The new canopy has been a long time coming. According to "Air & Space" magazine, the T-10 was designed to handle a gross weight of 250 pounds, while modern paratroopers jump in weighing nearly 400 pounds. This has resulted in a rate of descent in the area of 24 feet per second. I've actually seen guys literally bounce when they hit--bad landing technique on their part, I know, but the fact is you do slam in pretty hard. The new parachute slows the rate of descent to 16 feet per second.

I gather there's yet another revamping of the MC-1 in the works as well. But anyway, here's the venerable T-10:



And "my" parachute, the MC-1 (by the way, currently both the T-10 and MC-1 have netting sewed around the bottom perimeter of the canopy to keep lines from sliding over the canopy and causing it to open upside down. Upside down won't hurt you, but the steering is backwards. I did that once with a square freefall canopy. It was benign, but disconcerting)




And now, the the new parachute, the T-11. This bad motorscooter looks nothing like its predecessors. It even has a slider to reduce opening shock, something that was once only found in freefall parachutes. (The slider is that piece of cloth over the parachutist's head. It slides down the lines, slowing the rate of inflation, thus reducing opening shock)



And the reserve parachute is a conical, another design that the Army has never used, although the Navy used conicals for years as aircrew survival parachutes.

Check out the details here

This guy, assuming the evidence is solid (and I'm betting it is), should simply be killed.

"Neighbor Charged in Hanging of Girl".

Ok, so I'm having some fun with internet videos now. I'm not going to make it a habit. I just saw the one with the wasps and it reminded me how things can go awry in ways never anticipated, and then I came across this one.

The reason this one resonated with me is that I've ridden this thing.

German beer fests are fun. There are rarely, rarely fights; the food is great, the beer--well, you can guess; and the bigger fests have rides. I'm a huge ride junkie--especially roller coasters and hell, even the kiddie rides can be fun after a few liters of beer.

But as big as I am about rides and coasters, this may be the most radical thing I've ever ridden. We hit the fest with a group of around a dozen and the wife and I were the only two people in out group who would ride it. I've never seen it in the States, but check this monster out:

Insects have always been a factor in warfare, but it wasn't until the last century (the one we just recently put to bed) that we realized the extent of their effect. And that was mostly yellow fever and malaria.

The thing about operating in combat is that you have to expect the unexpected which is, of course, impossible.

During the Battle of Antietam, a regiment of Pennsylvania volunteers was advancing to the front line when a Confederate cannonball shattered wooden hives at a honeybee farm they were marching past. The regiment was nearly routed and was delayed in reaching the front lines, although some sources report that they resumed the advance "with a renewed vigor". Now what general, in all of his planning, could have anticipated that?

During the final phase of Special Forces school we sent two guys ahead at all speed to make a contact. We took their rucksacks from them so that they could move as quickly as possible and I ended up wearing my rucksack on my back and another guy's rucksack on my front. A large bumblebee got caught between the two rucksack frames and my ear and panicked and stung my ear. I was near the rear of the column and wearing at least 200 lbs. of rucksack---I passed the point man at a dead run.

Now to the present. Some guys tried to blow a large rock blocking a road in Afghanistan. They set up a camera to record the event and apparently left it unattended, something they'll always be grateful for. When the debris from the blast (which appears to have done nothing to the rock) disturbed the ground around the camera, everyone got a surprise.

Well, I'll be damned. I'm one of a few.

National Geographic magazine recently published an article titled "Green Dreams" which is about creating alternative fuels from plant sources.

At one point they paraphrase an executive from an alternative energy firm as saying: 'Only perhaps a dozen people on the planet know how to grow algae in high-density systems'. I'd personally put that figure a bit higher, but that's because I'm one of the people who knows how to grow algae in a high-density system.

I even came up with a critical modification that enabled us to grow algae in a closed system without the tank imploding. I'd be on a patent except the company decided to forgo the expense of a patent since at the time nobody else was growing algae (except in their swimming pools and fish tanks).

From Military Motivator:


And let us not forget, either, the strike on the Pentagon and the heroism of the passengers on Flight 93.

Just for grins, and since we're doing parachute-related stuff, here's a photo of Bear's birthday present. She was determined, all 10-years of her, that this is what she wanted to do. Her 15-year old brother went up with her with misgivings, but both were bubbling over when they got back down.