paleomedic.mee.nu

Holy shit! I just bought this today. Exodus, more than any other Bay Area thrash metal band, has stayed true to the school. This thing is a prolonged punch in the nuts. I had the opportunity to see these guys a couple years ago on their Shovel Headed Kill Machine tour. Kick ass show. Metallica is shit. Megadeth is meh. Testament has a new one coming out next spring, so the jury is out (but I have faith in those guys).

Exodus seems only to have improved. they showed this a few years ago when they released Tempo of the Damned. they stuck with the "guitars fucking rule" method of metal music. Both Tempo and this new one are reminiscent of Force of Habit, which was released in 1992. I make this declaration: Killsuck En-Blow, Seven-Up, Avenged Seventeen, Lame of Dog, are shite compared to Exodus. Give it a listen. You want balls-deep metal with guitar virtuosity, Exodus is your band. I'll throw props to Shadows Fall and Trivium. They have the chops to keep up.

Posted by: mikey at 07:56 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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My son and I came up with an idea. I have an extensive movie collection numbering nearly 200. What I plan on doing is watching a movie, then moving on to another with a common actor. I started with Adaptation for two reasons; one, it's first alphabetically; second, it's one of my favorites. Meryl Streep is neither here nor there. Nicolas Cage and Chris Cooper, however, were brilliant. There is far too much going on to talk about extensively, but I simply loved nearly everything going on here. The car crashes were stunningly realistic. The tortured writing process Charlie went through in his head is realistic. The masturbation scenes were realistic. I could go on, but, you know.

Now, in keeping with my son's movie chain idea, what is next? I think, in order to prevent a break in the chain, it might be ironically beneficial to pick one of the supporting characters rather than Nic Cage or Chris Cooper. Perhaps not ironically, I think this is the only Meryl Streep movie I have. Among the supporting roles are Maggie Gylenhaal, Ron Livingston, Brian Cox, John Cusak and Catherine Keener. So, that could mean the next movie is World Trade Center, Stranger than Fiction, Office Space, Band of Brothers (Does that count?), The 40 Year Old Virgin, or probably a couple of others I'm not recalling at the moment. I'll report later.

Posted by: mikey at 07:42 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Okay, so I ain't a blogger. Too many other things going on, too little devotion to this particular thing. But, I'll stumble on as the mood hits me.

Posted by: mikey at 07:27 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Navy Lieutenant Michael Murphy has been awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor, for his magnificent conduct as a Navy SEAL team leader in Afghanistan.

He has been on my mind all day long since I got the news. A couple of months ago I read Lone Survivor, by Marcus Luttrell. It is the most amazing story of courage and honor I have ever read. In my opinion all four members of that team deserve the MOH. But Marcus Luttrell might beg to differ. In that undefinable military humility he might say that his three buddies deserve the MOH ,but he is not worthy.

Mikey would beg to differ.

These men are nothing short of fucking amazing. They are giants. They are Leonidas reincarnated. They are Chesty Puller reborn. Becoming a Navy SEAL is an achievement unlike any other.

My baby brother, a young man I admire more than any other man I know, knew his limitations, knew that being a SEAL was not for him. He's a combat tested paratrooper from the fucking 82nd Airborne Division, the pinnacle of the US Army, outside the Special Forces. But he knew he might not want to be a SEAL. That is profound. It wasn't the BUDs training itself that made him hesitate, but the 24-7 devotion to duty, the kind of devotion that made a home life extremely problematic. Navy SEALs and Delta Force are the cream of the cream of the crop.

My brother chose an "easier" route, and is joining the Navy to be first a rescue swimmer, then an aviator.

Fuckinay, bubba!

Posted by: mikey at 08:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I'm cursed with no fewer than three obsessions. One, the dream of being a writer. Two, a desire to enjoy life without kids, to party and travel with my wife. Three, to put an Army uniform back on.

In reality there is no reason not to do all three, considering I want to enlist in the Guard, which, barring activation, would take only a little of my time. I like my free time, and would enjoy indulging in a party lifestyle.

But, world events, my sense of patriotism and the nearly weekly dreams of being back in uniform tell me not to ignore this call. Yes, Iraq is looking better, despite what you hear from fucknozzles in Washington. Read Michael Yon and Michael Totten. The reality though, is that while Iraq is slowly stabilizing, Iran and other places are increasingly dangerous. So, while on the surface it may look like I missed my shot to help the war effort, I believe I can join my brother in the fight. He's a story for another time.

I don't think I'd like myself mch if I didn't give it my full effort. If I blow out a knee or something, so be it. It's much better than thinking about eventually getting around to doing it. I'm old. The window is closing.

Right now, I can pass the pushup portion of the PT test. I'm close with the situps. The run will take some time. I was always a good runner in the past, but I'm a wee bit more beefy. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

(Update, 2 minutes later) Curse my feeble brain. I've already talked about this. But now I've gotten the green light from my bride to proceed. I' been waiting for Son #2 to graduate. She knows, though, that I am not going to shut up about it, so she gave me her blessing. She rocks.

Posted by: mikey at 09:30 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Had a really great post going, but I hit some friggin' button the wrong way and it's gone forever. Stupid computers. I'm going to bed now.

Yeah, I'm old. So what?

I thank those who stop by and especially those who comment. That was sort of the gist of the lost post, but whatever. I'm  lame. I don't know the first thing about the sinister code involved with blog management. So I just move along in the primordial version with no pictures, links, substance.

Posted by: mikey at 09:08 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Six years ago everythig changed. Plenty has been written about this day. Maybe some day I'll be able to get throught his dark anniversary with some ease, but six years in I still hate this day. Work was lame, I was distracted, easily irritated, and could barely look at my co-workers without contempt. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism, a need to avoid touching the painful memories, but that might be a little charitable. The group I work with is far too similar to other groups I've worked with; to use an apt Mike Straka word, they are Oblivions. Truly.

Watching United 93 might have served only to aggravate the pain, but I really believe it needed to be done. It's a powerful balm in some ways, to remember that Americans are unusually tenacious, once the cobwebs are blown away. We've enjoyed six years of relative security at home, certainly more than I ever dared hope six years ago. Something bad may happen again. To use an old axiom, we need to be right all the time, the terrorists need only be right once.

A good part of that is the fact that our Soldiers and Marines are fighting hajji in the Middle East rather than here.

Make no mistake. Iraq is as much a part of the larger war as Afhgnaistan is. And these are only two battlefields in a war that may well take a decade or two to finish. I pray we have the resolve. But given the petty pissing and moaning I've heard for four years from certain distinguished political figures, resolve is often tenuous.

Patraeus/Coulter 2012.

Posted by: mikey at 08:16 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I see it a lot, and so I thought I'd do the same thing. It's hardly complete, barely a introductory snuffle, but there it is.

1. I am left handed, as are two brothers and a sister. My parents are both right handed. ffice ffice" />
2. I shoot rifles and handguns, play guitar and use computers right handed
3. Despite being 5’10” and 240 pounds, I do 100 to 300 pushups a day, take brisk 3 mile walks at lunch and recently hiked 10 miles round trip with 3000 feet vertical gain.
4. My cholesterol is normal, overall good health, despite eating burgers and fries a couple times a week.
5. I get one or two colds a year, seldom more than a nuisance.
6. I like good beer, good whiskey and good cigars.
7. I hate the ubiquitous Nanny Goat thing, from Global Scolds to Food and Tobacco Nazis. STFU!
8. My last good hair day was October 27, 1987. I then joined the Army and came out the other side with male pattern baldness.
9. I am an artist, but I dislike the culture. Abstract art is nothing but pretentious, self-important shite.
10. Despite a deep, abiding love for reading and writing, I often failed English classes.
11. I became a father just short of my 23^rd birthday.
12. I’m still happily married to the mother of my sons.
13. I have never had a manicure, and there’s only one way I’ll ever get one—losing one of my arms.
14. I love sports that I’m not good at, football, hockey, baseball in that order.
15. I was pretty good at soccer, which taught me that the sport sucks balls, both to play and to watch.
16. I prefer the Winter Olympics over the Summer Olympics.
17. Math is hard for me, but I still manage to work successfully in the civil engineering field.
18. I have a short temper, but manage to keep it in check almost all the time. It gets easier as time goes on. I tend to yell a lot at other drivers when I’m by myself in my car.
19. I’ve never met anyone remotely famous.
20. I knew a kid who shook John Wayne’s hand. It was in the local paper even.
21. I love metal music, as well as certain variations of hard rock and metal.
22. I’m an insufferable music snob, and am not shy about sharing my feelings.
23. My country music-loving wife does not like it when I do that.
24. I don’t mind blues music, but think it’s a little overrated, with a few notable exceptions.
25. I currently own nearly 200 CDs, most of which are fairly mainstream, but very little pop music.
26. A CD I own that surprises friends; Tear for Fears, Songs from the Big Chair
27. A CD I own that surprises me; Garbage
28. I was raised Catholic, and still find some comfort attending mass occasionally.
29. I am not, however, religious. I’m annoyed by people who wear Jeebus on their sleeves.
30. I do believe in a Creator, but doubt he’s paying much attention to how tightly you close your eyes when praying for the Cubs to win the Series.
31. I love flying in planes. I want to be a pilot. But I loathe air travel—the delays, the crowding, the logistical nightmare.
32. One of my most fervent hopes is that when I die we have a permanent moon base and have sent people to Mars.
33. I have an almost complete novel in my head. I just need to write it down and sort it out and decide if it sucks or not.
34. I have numerous other story ideas and characters in my head, clamoring to get out.
35. I have very vivid, colorful dreams that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.
36. I am very modest, and will use public restrooms for twosies only in dire emergencies.
37. I also lock the bathroom door at home, even when alone.
38. Actor I most resemble: Kevin James with Jeffrey Tambor’s hairline.
39. I have a movie crush on Zooey Deschanel
40. I absolutely love seeing Jenna Fischer smile. Watch The Office—you’ll see.
41. I won’t drink beer out of a can, unless offered one by my host, and then it’s sippy time.
42. I’ve been to ffice:smarttags" />Venice, Paris, Berlin ( East and West), Yugoslavia and lived in Germany for three years.
43. I’ve never been to our nation’s capital.
44. I’ve lived in Alaska.
45. I lived in Phoenix, immediately after Alaska.
46. I’ve been to 35 states.
47. I’ve never seen the Atlantic, aside from flying over it.
48. With a few exceptions noted above, I’ve lived my entire life in the shadow of the Rocky mountains, and always at 3000 feet or more in elevation.
49. I like Colorado, but I don’t love it. I’d happily pack up the family and move, if I could.
50. I want to live in a wide variety of places, the deep south, Texas, Oregon, New Mexico, North Dakota.
51. The list of places I’d like to retire includes Idaho, Oregon and Wyoming.
52. One place I really want to visit is Scotland, my ancestral home.
53. I get goose bumps when I hear bagpipes. It’s a visceral emotional thing.
54. No place is as calming to my soul as laceName w:st="on">Yellowstone laceName> laceType w:st="on">Park laceType>.
55. I want to blow 5000 bucks in Vegas, without gambling. Don’t like gambling.
56. I want to do the same thing in New York City.
57. I want to go on a week long pub crawl across the British Isles.
58. Sometimes I like cats. Sometimes they piss me the hell off.
59. I learned long ago that I cannot properly care for dogs. So I’ll never own a dog again.
60. I am much less morally uptight at 41 than I was at 31.
61. I have a little fat Buddha on my computer monitor.
62. I hate fantasy football. It distracts from the purity of the game.
63. I’ve read the Lord of the Rings at least 20 times since I was 14.
64. Lonesome Dove is the most deeply moving book I’ve ever read, no matter how often I read it.
65. I always have at least one book going, often two.
66. Right now I’m reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and Zipporah, Wife of Moses, by Marek Halter.
67. I recently finished Lone Survivor, Chesty, Seventh Son by OS Card, and Guests of the Ayatollah.
68. On deck is tentatively, a book about World War I and an Ernie Pyle memoir.
69. The only assigned books I finished in high school were Lord of the Flies, the Catcher in the Rye and To Kill a Mockingbird.
70. I’ve never watched Jaws.
71. The only Rocky movie I’ve seen is IV. It sucked.
72. Didn’t have two cars at the same time until August of 2000.
73. My best car ever is the one I drive now, a Hyundai Elantra.
74. My dream car is a ’69 Camaro SS
75. I regret not going Airborne in the Army. I also regret not staying in the Reserves or the Guard.
76. I would quit my job today if I had the means to write full time.
77. I don’t have insomnia, but I am a light sleeper, and wake up two or three times a night.
78. I’ve never fallen asleep accidentally; when I fall asleep it’s because I mean to.
79. While I usually like what I do, my “career” is not my life.
80. If I were a writer I’d get up at noon, exercise, run errands in the afternoon, and write in the evening, and go to bed at 3am or so.
81. I don’t mind being bald, but I wish like hell I could grow a Sam Elliott mustache.
82. My boyhood idols included Crazy Horse, Jim Bridger and Han Solo.
83. I lived behind a drive-in theater as a kid. I saw Bad News Bears and Logan’s Run without sound.
84. I also lived in a haunted house as a kid.
85. I was not a big kid, but I loved dodge ball, tag, smear the queer. Put me on a level with the bullies.
86. I remember Civil Defense PSAs about nuclear war. I knew where the closest fallout shelters were.
87. My buddy and I loved to scare the hell out of each other with Bigfoot, poltergeist and UFO stories.
88. I think we were poor. I used to eat a lot of macaroni and cheese, and tuna casserole.
89. We lived for two years without a TV. I think that’s when I read Lord of the Rings the first time.
90. I never touched a computer until January 1992, when I started college.
91. The first time I voted was in 1992. I voted for Bill Clinton. Regrets? Yes, starting in early 1993.
92. I began listening to Rush Limbaugh in 1994. Still listen regularly.
93. I’d rather be with my wife and sons than anyone else in the world.
94. I once preferred to be alone, and aside from my family, would still prefer it.
95. I never got homesick as a kid. Quite the opposite, I was often relieved to be anywhere else.
96. I spent a large portion of my life fearing death. Maturity has provided me an odd sense of peace about the inevitability of death.
97. I believe there is some kind of afterlife. Read Abandon in Place by Jerry Oltion for a truly comforting and believable description of life after death.
98. I firmly believe people can be evil, just as people can be good.
99. My opinions of humanity are as varied, powerful and diverse as humanity itself is. I offer: Paris Hilton and Marcus Luttrell. Mozart and Slayer.
100. I loathe socialism in all its incarnations. The absolute worst thing to do to the human race is to smother the human spirit. Beware the word “progressive.”

Have a good "Labor" Day, comrades.

Posted by: mikey at 08:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Not gonna do a lot of hardcore research about these topics. Better folks than I are taking care of that. I'm just offering up some gristly morsels to chew or not chew as one sees fit.

Senator Larry Craig. My issue is not his apparent gayness. What is galling is A) he refuses to admit it, and his recent statement was snide and disengenuous. And B) seeking anonymous man love in an airport restroom is odd, and worse extremely dangerous. It's a dark side to a lifestyle that some are all too willing to pin on every gay person. There are things going on in his mind that are far too self destructive and creepy for a public servant. This is not an affair with a colleague or old friend from the Elks Lodge. This is the thrill of real danger, some kind of tantalizing foreplay that does nothing but tear down the soul. He needs to resign.

Cooking babies in your car. An annual abomination that years of press has done little to stop. Almost as mystifying as the brutal act of leaving a baby in a hot car to slowly roast is the bizarre defense by other parents. "Oh, she just lost her baby. Who are we to know what she's going though?" and so on. My answer is short and blunt:

Negligence can kill, and all too often does. No doubt the parent who leaves his or her baby in the car to suffer an awful death are wracked with a lifetime of guilt and pain. But it's a start in the whole penance category. Perhaps a day locked in a hot car would help them along the penance path. I have no sympathy for them. All my sympathy and sorrow is reserved for the other parent, the one who did not leave the kid in the car, the rest of the family, and mostly the poor young tyke who suffered so horribly.

Listen closely. I am the poster boy for immaturity. I am selfish, easily distracted, prone to moving in tangents. But the day I became a father my duty was clear, crystal clear. Here in my hands was an entirely helpless little human being. From now until he was off into the world as a young adult he was my responsibility. there was no middle ground here. I was not quite 23, but I was never so deeply aware of my new role as Protector of my son, and a scnt two years later, my other son. And I seldom failed, aside from the usual things, like not catching him in time when one of them falls off a chair or whatnot. I never forgot I had them. Never left them in the car, never forgot to drop them off at the granparents house.

I have no sympathy for the "I just forgot" argument. No excuse. None.

I'm angry now. Goodnight.

Posted by: mikey at 09:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Few books have affected me as deeply as this one. Much has been said about Lone Survivor and Marcus Luttrell, and SEAL Team 10. The very nature of this story lends itself to become a movie at some point, but I am so dreadfully leery of Hollywood getting its mitts on it. I would hate to see this story tarnished by a lot of goddamn politics. Plus, who could portray these giants among men? Matt Damon? Mark Ruffalo? I don't fucking think so! Maybe we could import some Aussies and Kiwis like we usually do. Gerard Butler might do. He's a Scot, right? (BTW, when did American actors become such pussies? It's embarassing? Guess the real men enlist in the military)

Snooty types might find something about the delivery of this story to be "too folksy", or "too one-sided." But look, there's no other way to tell it. Its horrors had to be softened a bit by Marcus' decidedly sardonic wit, otherwise the reader would be blubbering endlessly for 130 pages, or be unable to finish. As it was I burst into tears no fewer than five times as I read the last 100 pages in one sitting. It's at these moments that Marcus would pause, reach into the cooler between us and toss me another beer before resuming. Its this delivery that makes the whole thing bearable.

Your kid need a hero? How about these guys, Axe, Mikey, Danny, Marcus, and just about every other Navy SEAL in history. Forget what you saw in that Gawd Awful Charlie Sheen movie from the 80s. These men are fucking amazing.

And we cannot forget the villagers who saved Marcus's life, especially the village elder who held back the Taliban and Mohammed Gulab, the man who found Marcus, nursed his wounds and led him to safety numerous times. One moment which I found particularly poignant and disturbing was as they awaited the rescue helo, Marcus and the Taliban leader they had originally been targeting looked each other in the eye. Both knew that if not for the ancient Pashtun customs for proetecing a visitor, one of them would be dead. Friggin' amazing.

Some may have been turned off by Luttrell's unapologetic derision for milquetoast politicians and lefties, as well as his abiding admiration for fellow Texan GW Bush, but I found it refreshing to hear someone speak so honestly. Screw the PC crap that infests so many aspects of our daily lives. I think I want to move to Texas. Folks is folks down there.

Posted by: mikey at 08:55 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Always been a movie buff. Tonight I will talk about movie stuff, in a random, annoying way that only the left handed would understand. I'll just do a random list of certain things.

Favorite movie currently: The Fountain

Favorite Actor: Christian Bale

Favorite Actress: Zooey Deschanel

Favorite comedy: The 40 Year Old Virgin

Favorite action movie: 300

Favorite historical movie: Letters from Iwo Jima

Favorite fantasy movie: Lord of the Rings

Favorite martial arts movie: Kung fu Hustle

Favorite science fiction movie: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Favorite plotless movie about the 70s: Dazed and Confused

Favorite movie couple: Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore in The Wedding Singer

Favorite Movie You're Supposed to Love: Lawrence of Arabia

Favorite Movie Nobody's Heard Of: Adaptation

Favorite Gangster movie: Goodfellas

Favorite movie that Guys Usually Don't Like: Lost in Translation

Favorite Caper Flick: Snatch

Favorite Tom Cruise flick: The Last Samurai. Why? Because Ken Watanabe stole the show. Tom is a hack compared to this man.

Favorite Ken Watanabe role: Letters from Iwo Jima

Favorite movie I can barely watch: Schindler's List

Favorite satire movie: Idiocracy

Favorite docu-drama: United 93

Favorite Mel Brooks movie: Young Frankenstein

Favorite band movie: The Commitments

Favorite animated movie: Team America; World Police

Favorite Mel Gibson movie: The Patriot

Favorite 80s movie: Sixteen Candles

Favorite faux-documentary movie: This is Spinal Tap

Favorite Will Ferrell movie: Stranger than Fiction

Favorite Jim Carrey movie: The Man on the Moon

Favorite Bill Murray movie: Groundhog Day

Favorite Doc Holliday: Val Kilmer, Tombstone

Favorite soundtrack music: Black Hawk Down

Favorite movie of dubious historical accuracy: Gladiator

I could go on for some time, but am inherently prone to distraction.

I promise, more or less, to do some more specific movie critiques.

Remind me to do Rescue Dawn, with Christian Bale and Steve Zahn. I saw it in Bozeman with my brother last Saturday and it was really powerful. I'll throw something together tomorrow. Or soon after.

Posted by: mikey at 08:51 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We in Fort Collins had a small repeat of the flood of '97. Not as devastating, but it was a jarring experience for those of us who saw the Big Flood. It rained harder than I've ever seen it rain. I've always lived in arid climes, so this was a strange glimpse of the Gudalacanal style super-soaker rains. Tonight is much more normal. low humidity and cool.

Megadeth. Always liked Dave and the rest better than Metallica. Trust, the song in my ears right now, is a great later song. Dave Mustaine can be a prick. But I feel some of his pain. I've never done the drugs, but I know the pain of being the Other Guy, the one who doesn't quite fit in. Dave was treated badly by Metallica, despite his own self-destructive tendencies. He was better off forming his own band, but there are better ways of making the change. And the reality is that Dave Mustaine is a much, much better guitarist than whatsiname, Kirk Hammett. Kirk is a hack. Pure and simple. His lead work is simplistic and his rhythm work is not as good as Hetfield's.

In fact, Hetfield and Cliff Burton were the biggest talents in Metallica. And Jason Newsted was the third best in that band. Lars is a mediocre drummer, and I already talked about Kirk. Metallica capitalized on the tendency for the populace to glom onto mediocrity. The So Called Black Album is a lesson in tedium. It's flat, it's formulaic. It's banal. And yes, it was a monster chart buster. Blech!

Their best album was Master of Puppets. It was a nut cruncher. It pushed the enveleope. It took me some time to fall in love with it. But, as is the case with many great works, it grew on me. It is comfortably in my list of Best Albums Ever. So, what happened? Why did they cave so easily to the corporate mindset of sucking the tit of the masses? I have no respect for that.

Posted by: mikey at 10:08 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I feel compelled to have my say about Scott Beauchamp, he of the TNR Shock Troops dispatches. He is the same self absorbed, overly educated dickweed that seems to be scattered in platoons across the military world. He is amazingly pompous, ridiculously certain he is right about everything from the state of the political world to the quality of the coffee served at breakfast. His rank tells me that he is not exceling at the soldierly duties that come naturally to most who serve. He almost certainly has his notions of what kind of people his comrades are. Forrest Gump. idiot savants, perfectly suited to waer the uniform in defense of the Great Satan. He professed in one passage to love his comrades. Maybe. But I doubt it. He loves himself. He loves his Holy Quest. He loves the way he can string words into sentences with a modicum of wit. Likely he admires the work of Anthony Swofford, the famous Jarhead. The problem with all this rot is that it lacks any kind of subtlety.

You want great memoirs from men who saw the elephant and emerged from war jaded, cynical and justifiably bitter? Read Goodbye Darkness, by William Manchester, and Roll Me Over, by Raymond Gantter. Both were men with impressive intellect., men who enlisted during the dark days of World War II, men who experienced all the horrors of war, and wrote memoirs that were poignant, painful and which railed against the forces that lead men to war. But with both men, one thing was never in doubt; their love of their comrades, and their desire to win the fucking war so they could go home. Gantter was a post D-Day replacement who slogged through the mud of the Bulge, western Germany, and liberated POW camps. Mancheter was a Marine who fought in Guadalcanal, Tarawa and Okinawa. Both men emerged altered forever, and both hated that all this seemed so inevitable. But again, I can't stress this enough, they never, ever sought to impugn the maginficence of the Soldiers and Marines they bled with.

Beauchamp, Swoffford and others of their nihilistic ilk, have no concept of the bond that forms among the grunts. Beauchamp is the guy who hangs on the fringes, not really fitting in, not really wanting to. Coupled with that is a nagging twinge of lonliness, a moment of desire, a need to fit in. But that only makes him more bitter, more convinced that he is alone with his principles. He must save these morons from themselves, and the only way to do that is to take up the pen, which is, after all, mightier than the sword.

Did he lie? Guess the jury is out on that one, but my hunch? Yeah. Through his fucking teeth he lied.

He should enjoy his moment in the spotlight. As they say, any publicity is good publicity.

Posted by: mikey at 09:31 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I can't ignore it any longer. The call to duty has not gone away. It has only gotten louder and more annoying. So, here it is:

I aim to enlist in the Colorado National Guard.

Now, this sounds easy, right? Well, for someone who has not allowed cilivian life to seduce him into a life of beer and nachos it would be. But I'm 41, used to the soft life, and have put on some weight. The good news is I can do more pushups now than I could during my first enlistment. Situps will come soon. Not up there yet, but I can do more than 20, which is good. It's the run that will take some time. At my age, I need to be somewhere around a 7.5 minute mile. I was doing ten minute miles for a time, and could sustain that for three or more miles. I've not run regularly for a while, but I can get back to the ten minute mile pretty quickly. The 7.5 minute mile will take longer.

In some ways the delay is a blessing, because my wife does not want me to re-up before the boys have graduated.  Two years is when my younger boy graduates. That gives me time.

So, why do this? Primary is the call to duty that anyone who served honorably can relate to on some level. I have a strong feeling of something left undone. Along with that is a devotion to my comrades. My baby brother was a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne, and has two combat tours in Iraq. It killed me to know he was over there without me beside him, at least figuratively.

The Army haunts my dreams. Literally. People have recurring dreams, usually based on some kind of shrink related hangup. Mine is that. But the emotions I feel when dreaing these dreams are longing, anger, regret, sadness. I hate not being in the Army, despite having only served for four years. That's a blip in my life, all things considered, but it remains among the most important things that I've done. Even the creation of my famly happened in the Army. I met my wife at Fort Sam Houston. Both sons were born overseas in Germany while we were stationed in Aschaffenburg. It's far too big a thing to ignore.

Some might say the war will end before I get back in. A) that would be fine with me. B) I highly doubt it. Only the battlefront will change. We will need to occupy Iraq for years, and I see an escalaton in Afghanistan. And there are threats all over the globe. I doubt I would be bored.

As for the Guard over the regular Army? It seems to be a good compromise between my desire to enjoy the empty nest years with my wife and my cal lto duty. Look, it's not like the Guard is some kind of plush gig. My brother's second delpoyment was with the Montana Guard. He was activated for nearly two years. Nearly every Guard division has gone to Iraq or Afghanistan. This is not the mythical draft dodge ploy.

And so, having made my intentions know to the one or two people who may accidentally stumble across this site, I am now officially on my quest.

Hold me to it.

Posted by: mikey at 07:30 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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An odd muggy day in Fort Collins. Reminds me of the flood of 1997, which inundated our little apartment complex near Spring Creek. It happened about this time of year, the 27th of July, I believe. And to add to the whole nostalgic thing going on, the Front Range of Colorado is under a flash flood watch. Granted, very little rain has actually fallen, but this feels very much like the monsoon season that dumped 14 inches of rain upstream of our place ten years ago.

Posted by: mikey at 07:06 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 Was I the first commenter?  What do I win?!?!?! 

Posted by: jimmyb at July 19, 2007 07:20 PM (oIij/)

2 Hope you stay relatively dry, BTW.

Posted by: jimmyb at July 19, 2007 07:21 PM (oIij/)

3

Ah cain't scroll daown.  Whut'n thee hell's wrong?

yeehaw.

Posted by: HKpistole at July 20, 2007 08:26 AM (/j9KS)

4

Which apartment complex were you in in 1997?  I had moved away from Ft. Collins by then, but the apartments I had lived in 1993-94 were flooded.  It was bizzare to see all the damage to places I knew on the national news from half a continent away, can't imagine what it was like to live through it.

Good luck staying dry.

PS if you really want to know what went on in the buildings with no windows and big air handlers (comments on your interview at IMAO) drop me a line.  I will warn you though the tale is probably (definitely gaurenteed to be, extremely: take your pick) less interesting than you would imagine went on there.

Posted by: Brian The Adequate at July 20, 2007 12:56 PM (EZmj/)

5 I remember that flood. Its syprising that I remember because I was like 6 at the time. but never the less the memory is there, I remember talking to my parents about whether or not it was gonna flood, but they said it wouldn't. Then at midnight my mom woke me up while my dad was shoving towels under the door. I remember that we had tried so hard to keep the water out that by the time we finaaly opened the door the water flowed out. Amazing, remember so vividly the events that unfolded that night and yet I can barely remember my third grade teachers name.

Posted by: Lord Kinkade of Arcis at July 20, 2007 10:10 PM (TnNZK)

6

jimmyb,

Come to Fort Collins, I'll buy you a beer. Aside from that, prizes are scarce.

Posted by: mikey at July 20, 2007 10:28 PM (TnNZK)

7

HKpistole,

Not sure what's up with the scroll down thing. It's hit and miss, and I'm really lame at the blog thing. I sometimes make it work by refreshing. Other than that, (shrug.)

Posted by: mikey at July 20, 2007 10:30 PM (TnNZK)

8

Brian,

We were at New Colony on Shields, just south of Prospect. We could throw a rock and hit Spring Creek. The damage we received was relativley minor. The worst part was losing a set of encyclopedias from 1902. That sucked.

So, the big ventilators and stuff at CSU are less interesting than some kind of alien DNA thing? Dang.

Posted by: mikey at July 20, 2007 10:34 PM (TnNZK)

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My time in the Army was short, all things considered. We've lived in this house longer than I served. My high school hitch was the same length of time. I've been driving the same car almost  twice as long as my time in the Army.

And yet it remains one of the truly defining elements of who I am. I'm haunted by dreams of reenlistment, of putting on the uniform once more, of finally getting a chance to do what I trained so hard to do.

I was the victim of serendipity. I was a combat medic and my duty station could have been anything from infantry to armor, to a sparkling clean hospital. I was placed in a Lance missile artillery unit in Aschaffenburg Germany. When Desert Shield/Desert Storm geared up, every unit in the 3rd Brigade of the 3rd Infantry Division deployed to Saudi Arabia, except my missile battalion. The DoD did not want a tactical nuke in theater. So, I pulled guard duty for the duration. My ETS was suspended, but I ended up staying only three or four weeks longer than the original date. And so, as I near the date that would have been my 20 year mark, I am instead a frustrated veteran watching the events of the world as a civilian. The war has been prominent in my mind, and my brother's two combat tours in Iraq only aggravated that. It galled me to be stuck here while he was over there. Bad enough to see all those Soldiers and Marines fighting so hard without me. Knowing my baby brother was ass deep in the sand killed me.

The good news is I can reenlist. The bad news is I rpomised my wife I would hold off until our sons graduated high school. And I agree totally with her reasoning. Teenage sons need their dad around. My father was often absent due to work, and it left permanent marks on my psyche. So I gladly wait until they are ready to leave the nest. But wait: more good news, it's less than two years away now, my younger son's graduation.

I know I might not make it back in. My knees are strong now, but additional running could ruin that. I'll be 43+. Right now the Army will accept someone my age, and older even, but who knows what the future holds for reenlistment standards. I hold no illusions that I'll be a paratrooper like my baby brother, kicking down doors with guys half my age. But I really want to fill a uniform, and serve again as a combat medic.

This desire to reenlist and potentially put my life in danger is something my civilian friends simply don't understand. While I've never served in combat, I have some experience with the amazing bond that forms among Soldiers. I had more close, truly close friends in the Army than I ever did before or after. Basic training is an experience both humbling and exalting. For the first time I allowed myself to depend on those around me, and I made damn sure not to let them down. Letting down a buddy was something that frightened the shit out of me.

These intagnibles are a huge part of why I eat, drink and breathe the military world despite being a civilian for nearly two decades.

Posted by: mikey at 09:37 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Sometimes brilliance caresses you like a lover. Sometimes it snaps you with a wet rat tail in the locker room after gym class. And then, sometimes, it slumps all over you like a Norseman sated after a bout of ale sodden sex with his favorite captive Irish girl.

What Hollywood should do is make a feature film from an old TV show. Sounds farfetched I know, but who's with me...Three's Company! Yes. Starring Eva Mendez, Jaime Pressley, and, Mr. Chris Kataan!

Another idea? A biopic about the seedy life of Monty Hall. It worked with Chuck Barris. Who knows what Monty was into. Look, he ran a show populated by middle aged housewives dressed as canned hams and turkey legs. He asked personal questions, "Ma'am, do you have any ribbed condoms in your purse? How about a nickel bag and some Zig Zags?" And his sadistic sleight of hand with the doors. "You could win an awesome dishwasher, or a herd of mistreated goats from the Hall Fanily Farm. All you gotta do is choose wisely."

On a roll here. A live action Jetsons movie. Danny Devito as Spacely. Will Ferrell as George. The Pop Tart du Jour as Judy.

Nah, that one sucks. Let's move on.

Are there any reality shows with surly British men browbeating the contestants? I'm not sure. Ooh, maybe the British assmunch could sit next to some inebriated bubble head. That might work.

Would it be too much to ask that Michael Moore produce a documentary illustrating the scourge of morbidly obese busybodies with God Complexes in America? I'd watch that. Or not. At least he should take the Jared challenge and eat only Subway for years. The pounds just slough off like snowdrifts off your car. Probably because six months in you've all zest for life, and eating is just another dreadful milestone in your infernal hell on earth.

And I'm spent.

I also promise to lay off the glib movie catchphrases...that's all I've got to say about that.

Posted by: mikey at 08:55 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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JW Dundee's Hefeweizen is a decent wheat beer of the German variety. never had heard of Hefeweizen, or Dunkelweizen, or Doppelbock until I lived in Germany for three years. After that, the American fizzy beers were nothing to me.

So it was a blessing to learn of the new American phenomenon of micro-brews soon after coming home in 1991. So I had no reason to fear the horros of Budweiser and Coors.

Posted by: mikey at 09:05 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Now that I've spent time setting this thing up, I find myself oddly devoid of anything about which to pontificate.

I'm not sure what format this thing will take on, I expect it to either evolve and flourish like a lush topiary, or die in a matter of weeks like that cactus I managed to kill a couple years ago. Takes some skill to kill a cactus. Did I over-water? Under-water? Mutter curses at it too often? It's a mystery.

I expect I'll have things to say. I may even elicit responses. But, given the fact that this is just another little drone in a massive wad of ants, I expect little traffic, especially positive traffic. So, I'll just hang out in front of my little house in the little town that's too far off the interstate, and whittle.

Posted by: mikey at 08:24 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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