Something for the background..
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Do You Know?
I really do appologize. I have been slacking off for the past couple of days. To tell you the truth there is nothing happening around here to report about and I might also add I have nothing to rant nor rave about. I do however appreciate ~K a.k.a. (MOM) for plugs she's been giving to those of us she find's worthy enough to read on a daily basis!!! : x Much love. Just one thing though. I'm starting to realize that everyone I read on a daily basis has started to pull a "Prince", but instead of a symbol they've resorted to using one letter. Did Imiss a memo? Is this some special blog group that is being created? I want IN!!!! : ( Or I'll just sit outside the door of the clubhouse till you feel pity for me.
For the reals though. I had last night off and got really, really, bored sitting in the dark with no one to talk with. I was thinking about a previous blog of mine. The John Wayne one. I started thinking about when I was growing up back in Colorado, and the music my parents would always play on the radio. I grew up with Red Sovine, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Ernest T. Tubb, Marty Robbins, Conway Twitty, Johnny Paycheck, and the "Man In Black" Johnny Cash. Who my mother says that we're related to because June Carter was a cousin or some thing of the sort. Unsubstantiated claim as of yet! Those are just a few of the many names I can recall from listening to the radio as a little boy. 98.5 KYGO for the Sunday Morning Hall Of Fame.
Let me return to why I really posted today.
There's a specific kind of name for this type of song but I don't remember what it is, but that's not the question. The question is; Can you tell me who actually turned the following broadcast into a country song of sorts? Using any kind of search engine is cheating!!!!! I want to see who really knows this. I apologize to those of you who do not listen to country music especially the classics. You have no idea of what you're missing.
Gordon Sinclair's editorial broadcast from Toronto as printed in the Congressional Record:
This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as most generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth. Germany, Japan and, to a lesser extent, Britain and Italy were lifted out of the debris of war by the Americans who poured in billions of dollars and forgave other billions in debts. None of these countries is today paying even the interest on its remaining debts to the United States. When the franc was in danger of collapsing in 1956, it was the Americans who propped it up, and their reward was to be insulted and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it. When distant cities are hit by earthquakes, it is the United States that hurries in to help. This spring, 59 American communities were flattened by tornadoes. Nobody helped.The Marshall Plan and the Truman Policy pumped billions of dollars into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those countries are writing about the decadent, war mongering Americans. I'd like to see just one of those countries that is gloating over the erosion of the United States Dollar build its own airplane. Does any other country in the world have a plane to equal the Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tristar, or the Douglas 10? If so, why don't they fly them? Why do all the International lines except Russia fly American planes? Why does no other land on earth even consider putting a man or woman on the moon? You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you get radios. You talk about German technocracy, and you get automobiles. You talk about American technocracy, and you find men on the moon - - not once, but several times - and safely home again. You talk about scandals, and the Americans put theirs right in the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-dodgers are not pursued and hounded. They are here on our streets, and most of them, unless they are breaking Canadian laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at home to spend here. When the railways of France, Germany and India were breaking down through age, it was the American who rebuilt them. When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both are still broke. I can name you 5,000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake. Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them get kicked around. They will come out of this thing with their flag high. And when they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that are gloating over their present troubles. I hope Canada is not one of those.
I REPEAT. Please don't use search engines!!!
~Joshua
For the reals though. I had last night off and got really, really, bored sitting in the dark with no one to talk with. I was thinking about a previous blog of mine. The John Wayne one. I started thinking about when I was growing up back in Colorado, and the music my parents would always play on the radio. I grew up with Red Sovine, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Ernest T. Tubb, Marty Robbins, Conway Twitty, Johnny Paycheck, and the "Man In Black" Johnny Cash. Who my mother says that we're related to because June Carter was a cousin or some thing of the sort. Unsubstantiated claim as of yet! Those are just a few of the many names I can recall from listening to the radio as a little boy. 98.5 KYGO for the Sunday Morning Hall Of Fame.
Let me return to why I really posted today.
There's a specific kind of name for this type of song but I don't remember what it is, but that's not the question. The question is; Can you tell me who actually turned the following broadcast into a country song of sorts? Using any kind of search engine is cheating!!!!! I want to see who really knows this. I apologize to those of you who do not listen to country music especially the classics. You have no idea of what you're missing.
Gordon Sinclair's editorial broadcast from Toronto as printed in the Congressional Record:
This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as most generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth. Germany, Japan and, to a lesser extent, Britain and Italy were lifted out of the debris of war by the Americans who poured in billions of dollars and forgave other billions in debts. None of these countries is today paying even the interest on its remaining debts to the United States. When the franc was in danger of collapsing in 1956, it was the Americans who propped it up, and their reward was to be insulted and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it. When distant cities are hit by earthquakes, it is the United States that hurries in to help. This spring, 59 American communities were flattened by tornadoes. Nobody helped.The Marshall Plan and the Truman Policy pumped billions of dollars into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those countries are writing about the decadent, war mongering Americans. I'd like to see just one of those countries that is gloating over the erosion of the United States Dollar build its own airplane. Does any other country in the world have a plane to equal the Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tristar, or the Douglas 10? If so, why don't they fly them? Why do all the International lines except Russia fly American planes? Why does no other land on earth even consider putting a man or woman on the moon? You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you get radios. You talk about German technocracy, and you get automobiles. You talk about American technocracy, and you find men on the moon - - not once, but several times - and safely home again. You talk about scandals, and the Americans put theirs right in the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-dodgers are not pursued and hounded. They are here on our streets, and most of them, unless they are breaking Canadian laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at home to spend here. When the railways of France, Germany and India were breaking down through age, it was the American who rebuilt them. When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both are still broke. I can name you 5,000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake. Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them get kicked around. They will come out of this thing with their flag high. And when they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that are gloating over their present troubles. I hope Canada is not one of those.
I REPEAT. Please don't use search engines!!!
~Joshua
Friday, July 22, 2005
United Booze Federation. I'm In!!!
This is an excerpt from a magazine called "Modern Drunkard Magazine". One of my Marines brought this to my attention when I came in this afternoon. It took me a while to get through the entire because I was busting a gut every other line. Follow the link above to read the actual article. For those of us who it takes 30 min. to load a page I have copied it below.
Trudy Burnstein may call herself the Defense Minister of The Womyn’s Prohibition League but her organization is decidedly on the offense. Since its incarnation in 1998, the WPL has wracked the NYC area with protests, publicity stunts and the defacement of liquor billboards. All with a single objective in mind — smashing that beer out of your evil hand. MDM correspondent Giles Humbert III attempts to find out why.
MD: May I call you a Wipple?
TB: What?
MD: It’s a play off your acronym WPL. Wipple. As in, “The Wipples would prefer you chaps lay off the hooch.”
TB: Just say WPL.
MD: As you wish. You’re a splinter of MADD, correct?
TB: Some of us earned our stripes in the Mothers. But we always felt MADD was too conservative and wasn’t going far enough. They’re mostly just a bunch of housewives and lonely old men concerned with stopping drinking and driving, while we—
MD: Wish to stop drinking entirely.
TB: Right.
MD: Make it illegal for every human on the planet.
TB: We’re going to start with the United States.
MD: What do you think of your chances?
TB: Better and better. Everyone is starting to realize what an evil influence alcohol is, how—
MD: The majority of American adults drink, you know. How do you propose to take away something the majority enjoys?
TB: The majority jaywalk too, but that doesn’t make it right.
MD: Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should cut off their legs, does it?
TB: Why would we do that?
MD: So they can’t jaywalk. They could still jaycrawl, I suppose, then the arms would have to go.
TB: That’s somebody else’s fight.
MD: Righto. What of all the medical reports that say drinking in moderation is quite good for you?
TB: Those are falsifications.
MD: Harvard, the AMA and the Swiss, Japanese, French and British governments are all lying for some diabolical reason?
TB: They—what studies are you talking about?
MD: There’s about a hundred of them. Also, the pope drinks wine. Perhaps they’re in cahoots with the Catholics, if you’re into conspiracies.
TB: The WPL doesn’t concern itself with conspiracies.
MD: Yes, but you must realize, my dear girl, that—
TB: Don’t call me girl. I’m not a girl.
MD: I’m starting to realize that. Madam, surely—
TB: I’m not a madam, either.
MD: Believe me, I was using the term lightly. What in blazes are you then? I’m at a complete loss.
TB: I’m a womyn.
MD: You’re spelling that with a Y, I’m sure.
TB: That’s right.
MD: Fair enough. But since woman and womyn are pronounced essentially the same way, how do you know I’m not secretly using the chauvinist pig version?
TB: Oh, I’ll know.
MD: Right you are. Can I ask you to call me sir?
TB: Sir is derived from Sire and you are not my master.
MD: Ah, but there is royal blood beating through these veins, I am descended from—
TB: That’s not my fault.
MD: I should say. I see by your website’s mission statement you are also against tobacco, gambling, marijuana and pornography.
TB: That’s right.
MD: And when you say pornography, you’re including Playboy?
TB: Yes.
MD: Maxim?
TB: Yes.
MD: So you’re against anything that’s even vaguely fun.
TB: If that’s what you call fun, I feel sorry for you.
MD: Why?
TB: Because those are sad ways of having fun.
MD: Have you ever even been inside a bar?
TB: Believe it or not, we hold some of our fund raisers in bars. They’re not allowed to serve, of course.
MD: In bars? Are you sure? What are the names of these turncoat pubs? I’ll have them reported at once.
TB: Reported to who?
MD: The United Booze Federation, I should imagine.
TB: Never heard of them.
MD: You and your cronies will soon enough. Tell me, have you ever partaken in a drink?
TB: I made a lot of mistakes in college.
MD: College? Oh, you were probably swilling keg beer and wine coolers. I think if you tried a decent scotch you might change your mind about all this—
TB: The taste isn’t important. It’s what alcohol does to people.
MD: And what, pray tell, does it do?
TB: It brings out their worst.
MD: Occasionally. But it also brings out their best.
TB: The same could be said about war.
MD: So you’re against war too?
TB: Of course.
MD: Yet in your mission statement you say your group has declared actual war against alcohol and anyone who uses it.
TB: That’s right. But that’s a different kind of war.
MD: Of course. So you’re at war with me, personally.
TB: Are you a drinker?
MD: Thoroughly.
TB: Then you are my enemy.
MD: Excellent! How do you propose to attack?
TB: We are already attacking. Through the media, through awareness campaigns, through—
MD: That’s not war. That’s propaganda. Have you heavy cannon? Archers? Horsewomyn? Will you lay siege to the pubs? This could be rather exciting. I can imagine chaps about to head out for the bar, their children helping them don their armor, swords honed against immediate peril. The bartender would blow some sort of ram’s horn and the heavily armed and whiskey-emboldened drunkards would sally into the night to do battle with your poorly-trained irregulars. After thrashing the daylights out of you, we would fall back to the pub for victory cocktails, our wounds tended by sympathetic barmaids.
TB: Typical male fantasy. We’ll defeat you in the courts and Capital buildings.
MD: What a pity. That doesn’t sound nearly as exciting. Now, I’m looking at one of your posters from the WPL website. The one with the woman with the hatchet.
TB: It’s on the wall above my computer.
MD: The woman in the poster is speaking about alcohol, isn’t she?
TB: Of course. The hatchet is a traditional symbol of the womyn’s temperance movement. In the old days empowered womyn used hatchets to smash beer barrels.
MD: By the rather savage gleam in her eye, I was thinking she might be talking about castration.
TB: Hey, whatever works.
MD: Are you suggesting the threat of castration might be an effective way to get the chaps off booze?
TB: Whatever works.
MD: My Lord. I’ll be sure to wear a codpiece whenI sally forth. Were you a heavy drinker back in college?
TB: No. But many of our members are reformed alcoholics.
MD: A federation of turncoats, eh? Tell me this—if you were successful in taking away all these pleasures, what would the average citizen do after work? Read the Bible and pray?
TB: I’m an atheist.
MD: Great God! What do you do after a long day of trying to deprive people of their fun?
TB: I’m not trying to deprive people of their fun. I’m trying to save them.
MD: Save them? From what? From enjoying themselves? From excitement? From being human?
TB: From a life of misery.
MD: If you want to see misery, take the booze away. People would be crying in the streets. They’d be drinking aftershave.
TB: If they’re that dumb and weak, they deserve to be poisoned.
MD: Indeed. I must confess, I’m having a terrible time understanding your motives. Why would you care if some chap has a glass of scotch in his home? How does that affect you?
TB: I don’t think . . . what if he beats his wife and—
MD: He has no wife. There’s not a single human being in the house to thrash the daylights out of.
TB: What if he gets in a car—and don’t tell me people don’t drink and drive. A good friend of mine was killed by a drunk driver.
MD: Would you feel better if he or she was killed by a sober driver? They’re responsible for most traffic accidents, you know.
TB: With a sober driver it’s an accident.
MD: But drunk drivers do it intentionally, they prowl the streets, looking for old ladies to run over.
TB: Listen, I’ve heard all these arguments before and I’m not interested in them. Let me ask you a question—why do you drink?
MD: I find it gets me through good times and bad. For example, I’m having a scotch right now, while talking to you. And, trust me, it’s helping me immensely.
TB: Why do you go to bars?
MD: To avoid people like you.
TB: No, you go because you’re an incomplete person. Your personality needs a crutch.
MD: And what if that were true? Why would you take away a cripple’s crutch? Is anyone that cruel?
TB: It’s the only way to teach him how to walk.
MD: Perhaps he has no legs to walk on. Perhaps he’s a victim of your jaywalking campaign. I have a theory. I believe prohibitionists such as yourself are so mean-spirited simply because you’re always sober. If you actually sampled what you are so against, you’d relax and spend your lives doing something useful. It’s a conundrum wrapped in a vicious circle.
TB: You’re a jerk wrapped in an asshole.
MD: Creature, this is no way to debate.
TB: This was supposed to be an interview, not a debate. Creature?
MD: I meant it in the non-gender sense. So, because you don’t like the hooch, no one else should have any. I don’t like Barney the purple dinosaur, but I’m not prepared to assassinate him.
TB: If Barney was pushing alcohol, I’d kill him in a second.
MD: I believe you would. You are aware, I’m sure, that they’ve tried prohibition before. It failed miserably. Drinking actually went up each year of prohibition and it served to create the Mafia and gift the general public with a thorough disrespect for the law.
TB: It failed because people were more ignorant then, and the laws were not enforced aggressively enough.
MD: They were not enforced aggressively because the enforcers were drinking as much or more than those they would persecute. Where do you propose to find these new enforcers who would not take a drink?
TB: We’ve plenty of volunteers. They’ve got prohibition to work in Muslim countries.
MD: Yes, but they have Allah on their side. And would you want to live there? Women aren’t allowed to drive or vote or—
TB: I’m just saying prohibition is possible.
MD: Right. You’re based in New York. I thought that town was all about personal freedom and—
TB: Don’t worry, we’ll be coming to your town soon enough. Where are you calling from?
MD: I must confess I’m afraid to tell you. Will you bring your hatchet? Airport security is quite tight now, you know.
TB: We’ll drive.
MD: The United Booze Federation will set up roadblocks. Anyone with a hatchet or refusing to do a shot will be sent to the nearest Hooter’s for re-education.
TB: You know, it’s people like you that got me out of the bars and into the streets.
MD: Why, thank you. For the interview, I mean.
Trudy Burnstein may call herself the Defense Minister of The Womyn’s Prohibition League but her organization is decidedly on the offense. Since its incarnation in 1998, the WPL has wracked the NYC area with protests, publicity stunts and the defacement of liquor billboards. All with a single objective in mind — smashing that beer out of your evil hand. MDM correspondent Giles Humbert III attempts to find out why.
MD: May I call you a Wipple?
TB: What?
MD: It’s a play off your acronym WPL. Wipple. As in, “The Wipples would prefer you chaps lay off the hooch.”
TB: Just say WPL.
MD: As you wish. You’re a splinter of MADD, correct?
TB: Some of us earned our stripes in the Mothers. But we always felt MADD was too conservative and wasn’t going far enough. They’re mostly just a bunch of housewives and lonely old men concerned with stopping drinking and driving, while we—
MD: Wish to stop drinking entirely.
TB: Right.
MD: Make it illegal for every human on the planet.
TB: We’re going to start with the United States.
MD: What do you think of your chances?
TB: Better and better. Everyone is starting to realize what an evil influence alcohol is, how—
MD: The majority of American adults drink, you know. How do you propose to take away something the majority enjoys?
TB: The majority jaywalk too, but that doesn’t make it right.
MD: Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should cut off their legs, does it?
TB: Why would we do that?
MD: So they can’t jaywalk. They could still jaycrawl, I suppose, then the arms would have to go.
TB: That’s somebody else’s fight.
MD: Righto. What of all the medical reports that say drinking in moderation is quite good for you?
TB: Those are falsifications.
MD: Harvard, the AMA and the Swiss, Japanese, French and British governments are all lying for some diabolical reason?
TB: They—what studies are you talking about?
MD: There’s about a hundred of them. Also, the pope drinks wine. Perhaps they’re in cahoots with the Catholics, if you’re into conspiracies.
TB: The WPL doesn’t concern itself with conspiracies.
MD: Yes, but you must realize, my dear girl, that—
TB: Don’t call me girl. I’m not a girl.
MD: I’m starting to realize that. Madam, surely—
TB: I’m not a madam, either.
MD: Believe me, I was using the term lightly. What in blazes are you then? I’m at a complete loss.
TB: I’m a womyn.
MD: You’re spelling that with a Y, I’m sure.
TB: That’s right.
MD: Fair enough. But since woman and womyn are pronounced essentially the same way, how do you know I’m not secretly using the chauvinist pig version?
TB: Oh, I’ll know.
MD: Right you are. Can I ask you to call me sir?
TB: Sir is derived from Sire and you are not my master.
MD: Ah, but there is royal blood beating through these veins, I am descended from—
TB: That’s not my fault.
MD: I should say. I see by your website’s mission statement you are also against tobacco, gambling, marijuana and pornography.
TB: That’s right.
MD: And when you say pornography, you’re including Playboy?
TB: Yes.
MD: Maxim?
TB: Yes.
MD: So you’re against anything that’s even vaguely fun.
TB: If that’s what you call fun, I feel sorry for you.
MD: Why?
TB: Because those are sad ways of having fun.
MD: Have you ever even been inside a bar?
TB: Believe it or not, we hold some of our fund raisers in bars. They’re not allowed to serve, of course.
MD: In bars? Are you sure? What are the names of these turncoat pubs? I’ll have them reported at once.
TB: Reported to who?
MD: The United Booze Federation, I should imagine.
TB: Never heard of them.
MD: You and your cronies will soon enough. Tell me, have you ever partaken in a drink?
TB: I made a lot of mistakes in college.
MD: College? Oh, you were probably swilling keg beer and wine coolers. I think if you tried a decent scotch you might change your mind about all this—
TB: The taste isn’t important. It’s what alcohol does to people.
MD: And what, pray tell, does it do?
TB: It brings out their worst.
MD: Occasionally. But it also brings out their best.
TB: The same could be said about war.
MD: So you’re against war too?
TB: Of course.
MD: Yet in your mission statement you say your group has declared actual war against alcohol and anyone who uses it.
TB: That’s right. But that’s a different kind of war.
MD: Of course. So you’re at war with me, personally.
TB: Are you a drinker?
MD: Thoroughly.
TB: Then you are my enemy.
MD: Excellent! How do you propose to attack?
TB: We are already attacking. Through the media, through awareness campaigns, through—
MD: That’s not war. That’s propaganda. Have you heavy cannon? Archers? Horsewomyn? Will you lay siege to the pubs? This could be rather exciting. I can imagine chaps about to head out for the bar, their children helping them don their armor, swords honed against immediate peril. The bartender would blow some sort of ram’s horn and the heavily armed and whiskey-emboldened drunkards would sally into the night to do battle with your poorly-trained irregulars. After thrashing the daylights out of you, we would fall back to the pub for victory cocktails, our wounds tended by sympathetic barmaids.
TB: Typical male fantasy. We’ll defeat you in the courts and Capital buildings.
MD: What a pity. That doesn’t sound nearly as exciting. Now, I’m looking at one of your posters from the WPL website. The one with the woman with the hatchet.
TB: It’s on the wall above my computer.
MD: The woman in the poster is speaking about alcohol, isn’t she?
TB: Of course. The hatchet is a traditional symbol of the womyn’s temperance movement. In the old days empowered womyn used hatchets to smash beer barrels.
MD: By the rather savage gleam in her eye, I was thinking she might be talking about castration.
TB: Hey, whatever works.
MD: Are you suggesting the threat of castration might be an effective way to get the chaps off booze?
TB: Whatever works.
MD: My Lord. I’ll be sure to wear a codpiece whenI sally forth. Were you a heavy drinker back in college?
TB: No. But many of our members are reformed alcoholics.
MD: A federation of turncoats, eh? Tell me this—if you were successful in taking away all these pleasures, what would the average citizen do after work? Read the Bible and pray?
TB: I’m an atheist.
MD: Great God! What do you do after a long day of trying to deprive people of their fun?
TB: I’m not trying to deprive people of their fun. I’m trying to save them.
MD: Save them? From what? From enjoying themselves? From excitement? From being human?
TB: From a life of misery.
MD: If you want to see misery, take the booze away. People would be crying in the streets. They’d be drinking aftershave.
TB: If they’re that dumb and weak, they deserve to be poisoned.
MD: Indeed. I must confess, I’m having a terrible time understanding your motives. Why would you care if some chap has a glass of scotch in his home? How does that affect you?
TB: I don’t think . . . what if he beats his wife and—
MD: He has no wife. There’s not a single human being in the house to thrash the daylights out of.
TB: What if he gets in a car—and don’t tell me people don’t drink and drive. A good friend of mine was killed by a drunk driver.
MD: Would you feel better if he or she was killed by a sober driver? They’re responsible for most traffic accidents, you know.
TB: With a sober driver it’s an accident.
MD: But drunk drivers do it intentionally, they prowl the streets, looking for old ladies to run over.
TB: Listen, I’ve heard all these arguments before and I’m not interested in them. Let me ask you a question—why do you drink?
MD: I find it gets me through good times and bad. For example, I’m having a scotch right now, while talking to you. And, trust me, it’s helping me immensely.
TB: Why do you go to bars?
MD: To avoid people like you.
TB: No, you go because you’re an incomplete person. Your personality needs a crutch.
MD: And what if that were true? Why would you take away a cripple’s crutch? Is anyone that cruel?
TB: It’s the only way to teach him how to walk.
MD: Perhaps he has no legs to walk on. Perhaps he’s a victim of your jaywalking campaign. I have a theory. I believe prohibitionists such as yourself are so mean-spirited simply because you’re always sober. If you actually sampled what you are so against, you’d relax and spend your lives doing something useful. It’s a conundrum wrapped in a vicious circle.
TB: You’re a jerk wrapped in an asshole.
MD: Creature, this is no way to debate.
TB: This was supposed to be an interview, not a debate. Creature?
MD: I meant it in the non-gender sense. So, because you don’t like the hooch, no one else should have any. I don’t like Barney the purple dinosaur, but I’m not prepared to assassinate him.
TB: If Barney was pushing alcohol, I’d kill him in a second.
MD: I believe you would. You are aware, I’m sure, that they’ve tried prohibition before. It failed miserably. Drinking actually went up each year of prohibition and it served to create the Mafia and gift the general public with a thorough disrespect for the law.
TB: It failed because people were more ignorant then, and the laws were not enforced aggressively enough.
MD: They were not enforced aggressively because the enforcers were drinking as much or more than those they would persecute. Where do you propose to find these new enforcers who would not take a drink?
TB: We’ve plenty of volunteers. They’ve got prohibition to work in Muslim countries.
MD: Yes, but they have Allah on their side. And would you want to live there? Women aren’t allowed to drive or vote or—
TB: I’m just saying prohibition is possible.
MD: Right. You’re based in New York. I thought that town was all about personal freedom and—
TB: Don’t worry, we’ll be coming to your town soon enough. Where are you calling from?
MD: I must confess I’m afraid to tell you. Will you bring your hatchet? Airport security is quite tight now, you know.
TB: We’ll drive.
MD: The United Booze Federation will set up roadblocks. Anyone with a hatchet or refusing to do a shot will be sent to the nearest Hooter’s for re-education.
TB: You know, it’s people like you that got me out of the bars and into the streets.
MD: Why, thank you. For the interview, I mean.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
What is Patriotism?
I wonder what has happened to the patriotism that America had after the 9/11 attacks. Why is that most people only raise their flags on designated holidays or when something tragic happens. Why have we taken the Pledge of Alliegence out of schools. I remember when I was growing up how great I felt after reciting that every morning. Let's show everyone that america stands behind its soldiers. You may not be proud of our governments actions but at least be proud of the men and women who fight over here so that it may never happen over there. I want to thank those of you who never stop supporting the men and women of the armed forces.
I have something for everyone out there to read. I am abig John Wayne fan. Many years ago he recorded a record "America, Why I love Her". CindyMitchum, The daughter of John Mitchum, aquired the rights to this record and has made a CD of it. My mom had bought this CD when I came home on leave one time. I would be a liar if I said I didn't at least start to shed a tear a couple of times throughout the CD. It's a real tear jerker!!! This is one of the recordings from the CD. Read this and see if you don't get a lump in your throat, a tear in your eye, or feeling of some kind of patriotism in your heart.
I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE
TO THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO THE REPUBLIC FOR WHICH IT STANDS
ONE NATION UNDER GOD,
INDIVISIBLE,
WITH LIBERTYAND JUSTICEFOR ALL.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag"
What do those words mean to you? To me they say, "Thank you, America, for your strength, your courage and your freedom...which has been a beacon to the world for two hundred years."
"Of the United States of America"
Whose bright stars are fifty states...each bearing its own stamp of individuality. People...two hundred million strong...people who have come to her from all corners of the earth.
"And to the republic for which it stands"
A land of laws...with an ingenious system of checks and balances that allows no man to become a tyrant...and lets no group prevail...if their power is not tempered with a real concern for the governed...A land where the right of dissent and of free speech is jealously guarded...wheere the ballot box is the sword...and the people its wielder.
"One nation under God"
A land where freedom of worship is a cornerstone of her being...A land graced with temples and churches, synagogues and altars that rise in profusion to embrace all the religions of the world.
"Indivisible"
A land forged by the hot steel of raw courage...and formed forever...by the awful crucible of civil war.
"With liberty"
Where man in pursuit of an honest life will not be denied his chance...where her citizens move freely within her vast borders without hindrance or fear...A land brimming with opportunity...where freedom of choice is the guide for all.
"And justice"
The courts of our land are open to all. Its wheels of justice grind for all couses...all people. They look to every avenue for justice...every concern of the law...and they temper their reasoning with mercy...
"For all!"
I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG...
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA...
AND TO THE REPUBLIC FOR WHICH IT STANDS...
ONE NATION UNDER GOD...
INDIVISIBLE...
WITH LIBERTY...
AND JUSTICE...
FOR ALL.
I have something for everyone out there to read. I am abig John Wayne fan. Many years ago he recorded a record "America, Why I love Her". CindyMitchum, The daughter of John Mitchum, aquired the rights to this record and has made a CD of it. My mom had bought this CD when I came home on leave one time. I would be a liar if I said I didn't at least start to shed a tear a couple of times throughout the CD. It's a real tear jerker!!! This is one of the recordings from the CD. Read this and see if you don't get a lump in your throat, a tear in your eye, or feeling of some kind of patriotism in your heart.
I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE
TO THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO THE REPUBLIC FOR WHICH IT STANDS
ONE NATION UNDER GOD,
INDIVISIBLE,
WITH LIBERTYAND JUSTICEFOR ALL.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag"
What do those words mean to you? To me they say, "Thank you, America, for your strength, your courage and your freedom...which has been a beacon to the world for two hundred years."
"Of the United States of America"
Whose bright stars are fifty states...each bearing its own stamp of individuality. People...two hundred million strong...people who have come to her from all corners of the earth.
"And to the republic for which it stands"
A land of laws...with an ingenious system of checks and balances that allows no man to become a tyrant...and lets no group prevail...if their power is not tempered with a real concern for the governed...A land where the right of dissent and of free speech is jealously guarded...wheere the ballot box is the sword...and the people its wielder.
"One nation under God"
A land where freedom of worship is a cornerstone of her being...A land graced with temples and churches, synagogues and altars that rise in profusion to embrace all the religions of the world.
"Indivisible"
A land forged by the hot steel of raw courage...and formed forever...by the awful crucible of civil war.
"With liberty"
Where man in pursuit of an honest life will not be denied his chance...where her citizens move freely within her vast borders without hindrance or fear...A land brimming with opportunity...where freedom of choice is the guide for all.
"And justice"
The courts of our land are open to all. Its wheels of justice grind for all couses...all people. They look to every avenue for justice...every concern of the law...and they temper their reasoning with mercy...
"For all!"
I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG...
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA...
AND TO THE REPUBLIC FOR WHICH IT STANDS...
ONE NATION UNDER GOD...
INDIVISIBLE...
WITH LIBERTY...
AND JUSTICE...
FOR ALL.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
I don't believe, but...
It has to be a Karma thing. I don't really like to say bad things about people, but there is only so much you can sit by and watch silently before the Mr. Obvious is provoked. For the last two days I've been preoccupied by something else. Here's what happened. The next night after writing my previous blog about certain people. I was on my way into work and rolled my ankle. Now this wasn't one of those "I stepped off the curb wrong" or "I stepped on a rock and got off balanced". I was running for the bus and just rolled my ankle. No pot hole. No rocks. No uneven ground!!! I just rolled it. 2nd degree sprain. Though from the popping and tearing I thought I felt made me think otherwise.
The first person I see as I get to the squadron building is the CO. This is not gonna be good. So I try as much as possible to not let him notice I'm in pain. Have you ever realized how obvious you make things when you try to hide them? My best bet would have been to just stand in one place and look at the sky until he passed. Nope I couldn't do that; I had to get to work! Don't get me wrong. My CO is an awesome guy, but he just has this habit of starting a story about Cambodia everytime you talk to him. I enjoy these moments of history, but right now all I want to do is get inside and put some ice on it. Anyway, moving on.
I'm now in the office and I take my boot off to see what the damage is and in walks the LT. Not really looking to see him either. C'mon I'm a corpsman. I know what the hell to look for in this type of injury and especially know how to treat myself. Needless to say he wanted to poke and prod at it. Here come those fun parts when the medical professional pokes, pulls, prods, and twists while asking if this causes any kind of discomfort. OHHHH NOOO! I just figured I'd work on my chair dancing, technique considering I might not be able to dance out on the floor at country night!!! Yes it hurts, and your going to find out how bad if you don't stop! That's it. I spent the rest of the night on ice and good old vitamin "M".
One good thing did happen that day though. I ordered an external hard drive from an a certain online place. It has taken four weeks to get here. I know of guys who's wife sent something out last Thursday and it got here the following Fri, but the mail system is a different rant. It's finally here though. 200 Gig. Oh, this has to be that karma thing too. I have been asking the people at the PX when they expected to get some more externals in, and all I kept getting is "next week". I take it this is the only English phrase these people have even bothered to learn? Anyway, now that I had given up and bought one online what do you think I walked in and saw on the wall in the PX. 250 Gig for the same price I paid for my 200. Talk about kick in the nuts!
That's about it for my last couple days of personal hell. It's past the halfway point, but it still feels like it's uphill. For MOM , E-5 is the equivalent of SGT, or HM2 in my case. By the way, Darryl Worley's "Have you forgotten?", is exactly how it feels some days. This has sparked something for one of my upcoming blogs.
For any one else that gets the chance. Visit her blog. In her own words she says, "I Am a Proud American. I Support Our Troops. I have opinions and thoughts I like to share. I like to try to see a situation from all sides but I let my emotions get the better of me sometimes." I thank her and everyone else like her, who are behind what we're doing over here. Day in and day out. THANK YOU!
Joshua
The first person I see as I get to the squadron building is the CO. This is not gonna be good. So I try as much as possible to not let him notice I'm in pain. Have you ever realized how obvious you make things when you try to hide them? My best bet would have been to just stand in one place and look at the sky until he passed. Nope I couldn't do that; I had to get to work! Don't get me wrong. My CO is an awesome guy, but he just has this habit of starting a story about Cambodia everytime you talk to him. I enjoy these moments of history, but right now all I want to do is get inside and put some ice on it. Anyway, moving on.
I'm now in the office and I take my boot off to see what the damage is and in walks the LT. Not really looking to see him either. C'mon I'm a corpsman. I know what the hell to look for in this type of injury and especially know how to treat myself. Needless to say he wanted to poke and prod at it. Here come those fun parts when the medical professional pokes, pulls, prods, and twists while asking if this causes any kind of discomfort. OHHHH NOOO! I just figured I'd work on my chair dancing, technique considering I might not be able to dance out on the floor at country night!!! Yes it hurts, and your going to find out how bad if you don't stop! That's it. I spent the rest of the night on ice and good old vitamin "M".
One good thing did happen that day though. I ordered an external hard drive from an a certain online place. It has taken four weeks to get here. I know of guys who's wife sent something out last Thursday and it got here the following Fri, but the mail system is a different rant. It's finally here though. 200 Gig. Oh, this has to be that karma thing too. I have been asking the people at the PX when they expected to get some more externals in, and all I kept getting is "next week". I take it this is the only English phrase these people have even bothered to learn? Anyway, now that I had given up and bought one online what do you think I walked in and saw on the wall in the PX. 250 Gig for the same price I paid for my 200. Talk about kick in the nuts!
That's about it for my last couple days of personal hell. It's past the halfway point, but it still feels like it's uphill. For MOM , E-5 is the equivalent of SGT, or HM2 in my case. By the way, Darryl Worley's "Have you forgotten?", is exactly how it feels some days. This has sparked something for one of my upcoming blogs.
For any one else that gets the chance. Visit her blog. In her own words she says, "I Am a Proud American. I Support Our Troops. I have opinions and thoughts I like to share. I like to try to see a situation from all sides but I let my emotions get the better of me sometimes." I thank her and everyone else like her, who are behind what we're doing over here. Day in and day out. THANK YOU!
Joshua
Thursday, July 07, 2005
The Halfway Point
This started out as a different post a couple days ago, but nothing ever came from it. We've finally hit that halfway point in the deployment. You would think this would be a high point in the deployment but all I can really focus on is the three more months of working for a bunch of "tool pouches"! This is not to say that everyone I work alongside with are a bunch of idiots just some of those in the leader ship positions. One in particular. Ther other one just follows. Let me illuminate on this subject.
I HATE BUSY WORK!! I don't see the point in doing something just to make time pass. I have a million other things I would much rather be doing. Studying for the E-5 exam, going to the gym, keeping up PR with my Marines, or just reading a book. I don't see the point in moving a bunch of shit outside just so we can move it back inside the next week. How aboutthis one? Clean out a storage space that belongs to some other department cause they aren't using it. This way we can move half of the stuff into that storage space. Now this becomes a space that we must maintain and keep clean. Now all of our supplies and stuff are spread out over two spaces rather than one. I think all the staff NCO's are playing their own little version of the game "RISK". Each night they go back to the barracks and they challenge each other with the roll of a Di. I don't see how we keep winning though. We are the smallest department! How do our strike points equal that of a department of 30? I have to cut this short but I'm sure there will be more to bitch about tomorrow.
Later,
Joshua
I HATE BUSY WORK!! I don't see the point in doing something just to make time pass. I have a million other things I would much rather be doing. Studying for the E-5 exam, going to the gym, keeping up PR with my Marines, or just reading a book. I don't see the point in moving a bunch of shit outside just so we can move it back inside the next week. How aboutthis one? Clean out a storage space that belongs to some other department cause they aren't using it. This way we can move half of the stuff into that storage space. Now this becomes a space that we must maintain and keep clean. Now all of our supplies and stuff are spread out over two spaces rather than one. I think all the staff NCO's are playing their own little version of the game "RISK". Each night they go back to the barracks and they challenge each other with the roll of a Di. I don't see how we keep winning though. We are the smallest department! How do our strike points equal that of a department of 30? I have to cut this short but I'm sure there will be more to bitch about tomorrow.
Later,
Joshua
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