We all know the difference between a war story and a fairy tale is, one begins with "once upon a time", and the other starts with "and there I was!".
I served in the Green Machine for a few years, I missed road building in Nicaragua by a couple of weeks, and missed Jones Town Guyana by a month. ( Shut up and drink your cool aid punk!)
I was at the largest military installation in the East for my entire tour, and didn't reenlist because of family. There were a lot of things I might have done, none I regret. Some, however, came really close.
I worked in the motor pool of an aviation company as a generator/ heavy equipment mechanic. We were blessed with a real bunch of characters. We had some folks that would do anything and then sit right where they finished, even if it was the back of a 2 1/2 in the sun and a hundred degrees. We had a few average guys, and one army brat that got so stupid with a Full Bird, they called his dad, to drop in, from the other side of the world, as a courtesy. Then there was our barracks thief.
This dude was fairly nice, to me, but not too smart. Door knobs could teach this dude a lot. He got in trouble for stealing a truck from the motor pool, and then giving someone a ride from the company. No, he wasn't hard to find. He was on active duty because he got tired of the Guard and wrote his CO a letter, saying it was too hard and he didn't think it was for him. So they naturally snatched him up and sent him to us.
The dude tried so hard to be one of the guys, but didn't have it in him. He did so many things wrong I can't even tell you, our First Sargent wanted to throw him through a wall (Top told me this himself) for a gaff so stupid it had to be, simple ignorance. He presented Top with a hand written receipt for the car belonging to one of our soldiers who drowned in an accident. Bad idea.
One day we were hanging around the truck bays, trying to get in trouble, and about to do better than planned. I like to tie knots, so I had found a piece of line we used to hang rotor blades on the helicopters and was randomly tying knots. I had just tied a hangman's noose, when the Motor Sargent walked out and said "Oh finally gonna hang 'im eh?" At this point the dude made a cardinal mistake. He said "Ya'll don't have the guts." You would think we rehearsed. The rope goes over the rafters, a chair appears, and the dude is placed on top with his nylon necktie carefully adjusted for effectiveness, if not comfort. The proper usage implies a long drop and a sharp stop. A chair doesn't qualify as a gallows, unless you want it to take a long time. I snugged the rope around a long bolt, and waited for the signal that the prank was over. At this most inopportune time our contingent from Wisconsin strolled in, he absolutely hated the dude, took one look, and kicked the chair out from under him.
I almost had a heart attack! I literally threw the rope up into the air! The dude grabbed the rope at the back of his neck with both hands. All well that doesn't end with me having to explain why I hanged a dufus for fun, whew!
Shortly after the truck theft, the dude was off to new digs at Leavenworth, probably didn't fit in there either. When they cleaned out the dudes locker, every theft for months was solved. Buttons badges, transistor radios, every thing that shined.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
We all know the difference between a war story and a fairy tale is, one begins with "once upon a time", and the other starts with "and there I was!".
Monday, February 26, 2007
There are some things that just don't help get the job done. Knowing you are out of your mind, and should be scared witless, would be two. Ignorance is bliss, and most times, I'm the happiest guy in town.
There are some people who have always been, and will always be, trouble. They should have large, illuminated signs, floating far enough above them that the passerby would know to shy away. Police would know to keep a weather eye in that direction, well, cops know any way.
I got a call one night fairly early, unknown injury, and the address was just outside town. We, the two female EMT's and my self, hustled to the address and found nothing.
Maybe we overshot, I'll have a peep over here at the neighboring house. Yep! I call on the radio to the crew to bring the unit around the house. I can tell this is the place because of my finely tuned intuition and investigative skills, and the pool of blood covering the greater part of the kitchen floor.
This is when every officer in the county "u" turns and heads my way, didn't know it until later. Seems these boys, sons of the Mayor, are known to all and sundry, except me. Their Dad is part of the good ole boy network here 'bouts. They have been involved in drugs, alcohol, and every hair brained dust up that can be named. Daddy, being the richest and most influential dude in town, gets them off every time. No lessons learned.
When I get to the door, I can see two men on the floor, one holding the hand of the other who is unconscious. One man looks up and says something like "help my brother". He looks pretty dead to me, but OK, I got gloves on, let me check a pulse. I walk slowly and carefully through the blood, did you ever notice how slick the floor gets when there 's blood on the tile? This pool was not as deep as it looked, not even half the thickness of my shoe sole. I still didn't want it on my pants. He has a heart beat, so I asks what happened. "He was off his medication and felt a seizure coming on and got pissed off and punched a window. He cut his hand real bad and I just grabbed him and put pressure on it."
The bad news is these are the sober two of four brothers, the other two are behind me. Where the hell they came from I have no idea! The crew is in the unit with the doors locked. I now have two drunk, irate, ner-do-wells, one for each shoulder, like stinky parrots, yelling at me to do something. So, rather than have them behind me, and way too close. I turn to them and move them back. I didn't have to push them or anything, I just faced them and held my hands up between us and they stayed just out of arms reach. As soon as I turned and asked the brother to let me see the injury site, I got drunk parrots again, same routine. I was more than a little worried that they might think the thing to do is to kick my butt to motivate me a little. Who knows what a drunk will do?
It seems conscious brother is afraid seizure brother will start bleeding again. I tell him it's OK, I'll handle it if it does. When brother slowly opens his hand I see, nothing. I wonder how long those two sat there that way. The puncture wound to the back of his hand was sealed and barely visible.
The crew has talked with dispatch and now that they know the cavalry is en route, have decided to come see why my ungainly carcass isn't pinwheeling through the air to the yard. They actually bring a kit and the stretcher. I bandaged the seizure brothers hand, put conscious brother to controlling the parrot brothers, loaded seizure brother and hauled his butt to good old Stump Water General ER. On the way seizure brother wakes up and has some very uncomplimentary things to say about us. The police arrive and have a word of prayer with seizure brother.
The pin head got home before we could get the unit back in service, it took a little longer because seizure brother is HIV+, and as we all know that's extra care for cleanup.
I never saw that lot again, and I don't believe I'll miss them. I only hope the next poor sap that walks into that place has been warned, and has the boys in blue or khaki in tow.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Two Cans Minced clams
One bottle clam juice
One pound sausage (andouille )
One pound chopped okra
One pound mixed peppers and onions
One pound Monk Fish, or equivalent
Two quarts tomatoes puree
Three small potatoes
Old Bay Seasoning
Chunk the sausage and brown well, add veggies, salt and pepper, dice potatoes and cook together until all are done. Put the tomatoes, clams, clam juice in a large pot and bring to a boil or brisk simmer. Add the veggies and a couple tablespoons Old Bay to the tomatoes. Cut the fish into small chunks an inch thick. In a little olive oil sear the fish, then add it to the tomatoes, when the liquid returns to a simmering boil, add the shrimp and a couple tablespoons of fresh chopped parsley.
As soon as the shrimp is done serve
Friday, February 23, 2007
Does anyone find this hard to believe, I don't, makes perfect sense to me.
U.S. Rep. Michele Bachmann claims to know of a plan, already worked out with a line drawn on the map, for the partition of Iraq in which Iran will control half of the country and set it up as a “a terrorist safe haven zone” and a staging area for attacks around the Middle East and on the United States.
She said this in a taped interview St. Cloud Times reporter Lawrence Schumacher, which is available as a podcast. (If you go to this link, look down on the right for “download Capitolcast.”)
There are other interesting and provocative statements in the interview. But the most amazing is at the end, when the discussion turned to Iran and Iraq, Bachmann’s reasons for sticking with the stay-until-victory camp, and her beliefs, stated as established fact, that Iran has reached an agreement to divide Iraq and set up a free-terrorism zone.
Here’s the extended excerpt:
“Iran is the trouble maker, trying to tip over apple carts all over Baghdad right now because they want America to pull out. And do you know why? It’s because they’ve already decided that they’re going to partition Iraq.
And half of Iraq, the western, northern portion of Iraq, is going to be called…. the Iraq State of Islam, something like that. And I’m sorry, I don’t have the official name, but it’s meant to be the training ground for the terrorists. There’s already an agreement made.
They are going to get half of Iraq and that is going to be a terrorist safe haven zone where they can go ahead and bring about more terrorist attacks in the Middle East region and then to come against the United States because we are their avowed enemy.”
Bachmann did not say how she knew about this plan, nor with whom Iran has made this deal.
The Big Question is seeking an interview with Bachmann to flesh out her comments. I have received a tentative commitment for an interview this afternoon and will post what I get.
No suprise there.
Hat tip to Drudge
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Now that the immediate problem of tumors is past, life goes on. I was sitting at home, trying to keep a weather eye on the love of my life and her oldest daughter. This pair of comedians used every opportunity to do cute things to the guy with a hole in his abdomen. I found out quickly that the bed was a trap, I could lay down, I just couldn't get up. For a quick reference on how this felt, bury four or five large fish hooks in your tummy and every time you think about moving, pull on the hooks. That would be close.
The recliner was the only place I could sit or lie back and still get my arms under me to push up. The recliner position sticks your toes up, the perfect position for painting the nails. For some reason clear only to those two, my toenails needed to be blue. I almost tore a stitch getting that stuff off. I took serious grief for the entertainment of that pair. I am still plotting my revenge.
After a while I got really bored, I thought I may as well try to go back to work. After all, I have to be somewhere, and doing rounds at good old Stump Water Nuclear Station isn't terribly strenuous. I figured by doing rounds I would allow someone a break and they could do something else.
I over looked a small thing, stairs. When I got to the plant and started to the control room, I was confronted by a thirty foot tall set of stairs. It didn't look too bad, until I got half way up, then I couldn't go any further, and there was no place to sit down. One of my friends, a lady from document services, came by, took one look and asked what was wrong. I told her, she proceeded to tell me just how freaking stupid I was. Well, I had figured that part out. She informed me about convalescent leave, and company policy on surgeries. After I struggled to a phone I called HR and got told again that I was an idiot, by now this was not news, and go home get a release from the doctor.
All right , already I got the point.
The sawbones wanted me to be fairly well healed before radiation therapy. Just in case I had to puke. Those of us in the industry are trained, literally from day one, about the effects of acute radiation poisoning. Not pretty. Now we are going to do it on purpose. I had a consultation with one of my Surgeons and asked how much dose I could expect. He told me in a calm voice about three thousand rad.
I almost fell out of my chair.
That’s seven and a half times the lethal dose for fifty percent of the population on average. He neglected to mention it would be in a carefully shaped beam. He also skimmed over the part where its spread out over several days so they don't cook you like a kitty in a microwave.
There's nothing like good communications, and that was nothing like it!
The folks at the Oncology Clinic were great, I was treated everyday by two of the prettiest, sweetest angels, I ever expect to meet. The girls would do things to lighten the mood by drawing things like flowers and fish on your skin while they were setting the laser aiming grid and tying your feet together to stabilize your position. I got my dose in twenty-four seconds per day. That was about one hundred forty two rad a day. All those things they tell you about radiation are true, it will make you sick, and tired, and give you a sunburn. Trust me its not something they made up.
The thoughtful darlings gave me a prescription for some really good drugs for the nausea. The little problem they overlooked is covered in the Physicians Desk Reference, side effects include everything except, giving you horns and a tail.
I'd rather puke.
A couple of months later I was at the local market, and caught a girl in scrubs eyeing me. That doesn't happen every day. She asked me if I remembered her, it was one of the angels from the clinic, she hugged me and told me I looked great.
That means I was still breathing, most folks that get the full bag of tricks, don't make it long. I guess anyone still moving under their own power is a reward to those girls.
I don't see how they do it.
At The Smoking Gun, and this guy wants to be a Republician President?
A President aas a Diva? I thought Kerry was bad enough, how bout that?
Posted by DW at 11:31 AM
From the Wal Street Journal
A little better collection of data about "Glow Ball Warming/Cooling/Warming/Cooling, Whatever!
It only means what you want it too, if you cherrypick data.
Hat tip to BMEWS, http://www.barking-moonbat.com/index.php , as usual the Skiper is great reading.
Posted by DW at 7:41 AM
Ann Coulter Conquers Hollywood?
by Jed Babbin (More by this author)
Okay. Confess. Even though Stephen Colbert is really funny and Jon Stewart may make you cringe, you want more. You want a conservative satire on the news, and haven’t seen one since, well, since time began. Why?
We all know that conservatives have a better sense of humor than liberals. That's why Rush, Laura and Sean are conquering all and why Minnesota senatorial candidate Al Franken needs a job. Liberals are incapable of poking fun at themselves. Conservatives produce endless humor in writing and on radio. And now, this Sunday, our appetite for televised conservative humor is apparently going to be satisfied.
It’s called "The Half Hour News Hour" and is produced by Joel Surnow (creator and exec produce of "24") and Ned Rice. But the best part is that Ann Coulter -- yes, our Ann, HUMAN EVENTS legislative correspondent -- is in it. Is it funny? One gent e-mailed me to say that, "Critics are already calling it 'the funniest show ever produced by the FOX News Channel, not counting Geraldo.'"
Pop the corn, pour the wine, sit back and watch. Step aside, libs. It’s our turn."The Half Hour News Hour" premiers Sunday, February 18 at 10 p.m. EST.
See you there!
Posted by DW at 7:23 AM
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Those are the words most people dread. Even so, I am probably as lucky as anyone you know. I found out by accident, due to unrelated problems.
I was on vacation in the southwest, Tombstone to be exact, when I found a lump under my arm. It was fairly obvious it was a lymph node, but swollen and hard. I have had relatives who had some form of Lymphoma. Their lives and personality were altered by chemo and the experience. That’s not a good way to finish up a vacation. The other consideration was the wife's loss of her dad shortly before from lung cancer. I really didn't want to have to drive cross country with the love of my life sedated in the back of the vehicle. She would have to be drugged, or freak and spaz, all the way home. The only thing to do was keep the old fly trap shut, put it away, until it can be dealt with. There were other mediating circumstances, more than one thing will cause a swollen node and we had been in the bush, so to speak, for two weeks.
Needless to say it sort of took the shine off the apple. We were out for another week. I made an appointment with the family sawbones, on our return, and made sure to be prompt, not that he was or anything. He checked the lump, agreed it was a lump, gave me a bill and a prescription for nuclear strength antibiotics, and come back in two weeks.
Right Oh, see you then!
I went home and got on the Internet to research the meds, and every malady he mentioned. Some mentioned a thirty day regimen of antibiotics, or other fairly serious treatment. Goodie, those always come with stomach problems.
At the end of a week, the lump had reduced, cautious relief for now. I returned to the sawbones, and discussed with him the findings on the Internet. He didn't want to give me a months supply, but in the end finally agreed.
At the end of the next week the lump had moved, and turned into two lumps.
The sawbones was immediately concerned, if you can imagine that? He started palpating various area on my limbs. Nothing. He was running out of things to check and tells me to drop the laundry. (????) He then palpated my dangley bits, and I almost threw up on his head.
Now that hurt!!!
He immediately scheduled a sonogram. (Wait a sec Doc, am I pregnant? No Dumba##, it's just a picture. Oh.)
Our next appointment was July the Seventh, 1999. I was told I had testicular cancer. Another thing that worried me was the lack of reaction on my part. Aren't you supposed to be scared or something? Nothing at all, just "Ok." That was also the day I found out my Dad had lung cancer.
When life sucks, it really sucks huge.
The sawbones scheduled TWO surgeons for the following Wednesday 7-9. I don't know about the rest of the world, but when the doctors get in a hurry, I worry! They also told me it was out patient surgery. (????) Outpatient? "You mean I can go home?" Yup! "Cool!"
I went in at five and was out by six, not that I remember any of it. The cutters were afraid it had spread to the lymph system. We were all happy to find the lumps under the arm were a pair of abscess, that were debrieded down to the chest wall. That means a large deep hole. No spreading.
The nice nurse came in at nine to wake me to see if I was resting well. I told her "I want to go home." She replied well we want you to stay the night. I replied "I'm sure you do, I want to go home." She said it's late, we would have to call the Doctor and get orders. I said "Call him, I'm going home!" She did and came back an hour later with orders and my clothes. We pushed me down to the back door and I managed to get into our Cherokee with out blowing any stitches. No small feat that! The love of my life asked me if I wanted any thing before I went home, the liquor store was closed, so I said Hardees. I had been with out food for something like twenty six hours by then. In a few minuets I was sitting in my recliner with a greasy cheesy in each hand, and I was a happy man!
The next day wasn't quite so much fun. I wanted to walk a little in the morning, I got about fifty yards from the house, coffee in hand, when the little woman got home, I thought she was gonna kick my butt! It looked like a terrier on a bear, I couldn't even run away.
The visit to the Surgeons office lead to instruction in how to irrigate and pack the void under my arm. The good doctor allowed that I was a brave man because I went home that night, I wonder what he would have thought had he seen the naked fat man, dancing in a circle, tears pouring while stuffing gauze in the hole in his chest wall. The bride took one look and almost horrked on me. The poor dear turned the palest green, really very attractive.
Now if any ladies are reading this please pardon anything you find indelicate. I would like to encourage you to help you favorite man self examine his goodie bits to ensure he dosen't pull a Lance Armstrong and deny until he has tumors. Please ensure they are smooth round and not too firm, not to sensitive or painful, the owner will guide you in a through examination. This might lead to a new closeness. I'm certain he will enjoy the check.
It will soon be ten years since that day, I have survived obviously, none the worse for wear.
My Dad only made it nine months, I don't know if the cancer or the chemo killed him.
Posted by DW at 7:24 PM
North Carolina's hog industry generates tons of manure that's so potent it can run computers, power tools and anything else that plugs into a wall outlet.
But extracting the energy from porkers' droppings has proven elusive. The technology works, but it has been a money-losing proposition.
The state's pork producers, working with Progress Energy, want to test a new way of tapping the flammable methane gas that seeps out of decomposing hog manure. Once extracted from the waste, the methane can run a power plant like any other fuel, such as natural gas or coal.
What will they think of next, first splitting the atom, now processing the poop! It all smells like money one way or the other!
Posted by DW at 7:18 PM
I was watching food porn yesterday and got an idea for a filling comfort type food.
Dice three medium onions
Two cans chick peas
Two cans beef broth
One half pint cream
Course ground black pepper
Saute the onion until very soft, salt and pepper to taste,add broth and drained peas, heat through, or boil. Puree with hand blender. Add cream and mix throughly.
Serve in a cup or bowl with crutons and white cheese.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Dr. Adams over at Townhall has found out that the Utah gunman was a member of the religion of pieces. Another angry Muslim has gone to a “weapons free zone” and committed murder in the most cowardly fashion.
I don’t think the liberal gun grabbers will ever figure out that there are people who will defend them even if they are afraid. If they could put their fear away long enough to allow the good people to do what needs to be done, they might learn to hold their heads up.
Go read the good doctors article.
Posted by DW at 9:19 PM
Sunday, February 18, 2007
One of the things I failed to mention in my profile, is my love for a good glass of wine. I am really fond of McMannis wines, anything not Chardonnay. I also make my own wine when I have the time. Probably the most unusual is Jalapeno wine. I also make a Apple/Citrus and Mead. Yep, got a glass on the table right now.
Wonderful stuff, mead is, needs to be two years old to be really good. The problem is, it never makes it to two years. It is Golden, sweet, and delicious. I have to work on my technique.
The first mead I experienced was at the Cliffs of Moore, in Ireland. We had been in the ungentle hands of the airlines for fifteen hours, and awake for another eight hours getting to the airport. We stopped a little ways from our first nights reservation, for breakfast, when we got back to the car I told the love of my life, “I can’t go any more, I have to close my eyes.” I did for fifteen or so minuets, and then we went to the Cliffs of Moore. There is a long walk up hill to the old structure that appears to be the strong hold of a medieval lord, actually it’s an old tea house. There is a gift house and parking lot sale on the grounds. While in the gift shop I found some Bunratty Mead, made at Bunratty Castle. I bought a small bottle, hardly a half glass. I took a taste, and thought my love might like it. She took a taste, and I had to peel her little fingers off my bottle. We kept a bottle on hand for a night cap the rest of the trip.
I got interested and did a little research. My bud that lived on my place out in the country was going to make his own wine, and started by drinking twenty or so gallons of wine for the jugs.He never made wine that I know of, but he kept a buzz for months. All is well that ends well. I kid you not, I have the jugs for my own use.
Mead is made from honey and a special yeast. The thing I need is a cellar that will keep the temperature around 55f to keep the wine stable while it matures. I don’t like sulfites, so I generally add alcohol to kill the yeast, trust me on this, the freshly bottled stuff will kick your tiny little butt!. Unfortunately if there is sugar left in the wine it may still ferment and produce CO2. Believe me, a bottle of honey wine ejected on to the floor doesn’t win you any friends except ants.
I have several five gallon wine jugs, carboys, that I use to make 35 pounds of honey into twenty five bottles of wine. It only takes six weeks to turn out a batch. There is a lot to know and considerable chemical change to make grape juice or honey into wine. This summer I may have to build a cellar in the back yard and put a few hundred bottles down.
Everyone needs a hobby!
Posted by DW at 9:18 PM
Hat tip to LawDog,
This was my comment to Jim Zumbo, though I don't expect he'll ever read it. Spread it far and wide folks. You can Google the name and read his posts,I don't think I'll link. I own an AR with a few attachments, and some other .223 weapons, and a couple of other military weapons, none of them came with instructions for an IED or a VBIED, thank you very much!
Sir, Apparently you don't take seriously the responsibility of your words. Your first post was short, to the point, and accurate regarding your feelings. The second was carefully thought out to try to stop the landslide. The thoughtful proponent of gun owners rights would never make a comment disparaging of an others choice of weapons. A thoughtful man would think before speaking words that would be offensive if they were spoken to him. The gun is a tool, the user bears the label you chose to bestow. Now is every user of a .223 a terrorist? Would you care to slam the Law Officers who carry a .223 semi auto in there trunk? I would lay odds you have offended DRUG DEALERS with that name. I usually try to be mature in my posts, but you can take your holier than thou attitude and put it...you know the rest. Remember the six degrees of separation, the world will know of this, your shame. Bag your face, never claim the mantle of proponent or journalist.
I'm a Southern boy an' he can kiss my grits!!!
Posted by DW at 6:56 PM
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I don’t know what to think about some supposed “dog lovers” that breed and then sell sick puppies. One of our long, and I do mean” LONG”, time four legged family passed on to her reward. That was the only creature I have ever seen that smelled worse in life than after death. She can never be replaced. In an effort to keep the love of my life from remaining in a funk at feeding time, the youngest daughter found a pup. A seven week old Basset Hound. My goodness, the face on that dog, she will never drink anything that doesn’t taste like ears.
The wife went to see the little darling, and came back to say she didn’t want her daughter to spend that much on a pet. I could tell that this was the hair producing house wrecker she wanted. Picture furious scribbling on a check. The pup was quiet and a little lethargic, all she wanted to do was sleep. We got the standard claims of wormed, weaned and shots.
On the second day we were gifted with graphic proof that pup HAS NOT been wormed. Off to the vet for meds.
On the third day pup can’t stand up.
Off to the vet again, one look and the vet says, “Parvo”, for the average dog that is a death sentence. For the non dog owner, Parvovirus disease pretty much dissolves the dog’s digestive tract, they generally die from dehydration, sometimes in a day.
The bride is devastated; if I had feelings I would have had a twinge too. The vet says not to worry, we haven’t lost a pup to parvo lately. (?????)
I talked to the wife about replacing the pup in case it doesn’t make it. Nope, that is the one she wants, and no other. Let me explain here that when the love of my life is hurt or crying, I get more than a little upset. Actually I start looking for the source of the pain, so I can wreck it, crush it, shoot it, or drug it. I am not rational, I know this.
Life goes on, we check daily, pup is still alive. (?) On the third day we are at the beach, fishing and get a call to come pick up pup, she’ll do better at home! (?) The bride is happy, I am no longer looking for the seller of dying pups.
We are now the proud (?) owner of a thousand dollar puppy. That would be about Two Hundred Fifty dollars a pound.
Now the processor of puppy chow is close to ten times the size of her arrival. She loves to chew everything. Can anyone explain the attraction of galvanized bolts, dirty socks, and old shoes? She will sneak around to get chocolate, and loves hush puppies, ironic that is. Her favorite game is having me chase her around the house. She busts her butt on the tile and never slows down, nails clicking like a herd of stampeding crabs, ears flopping, barking fit to run a rabbit. She is learning to obey commands, and to dance on her back legs. She is the biggest attention hog around. At bed time she is done with you, she goes to her bed and calls it a day. Gotta rest up for the destructionn tomorrow, a puppies work is never done.
Posted by DW at 3:00 PM
Friday, February 16, 2007
I have friend who has been a co-conspirator for thirty years. Someday I may have to write a book about him and his family. Then again if I did no one would believe me, David Copperfield, Oliver Twist and Scrooge all rolled into one. A more twisted up person you will never meet outside of a loony bin.
His dad, brother and stepfather are all murderers, no kidding. The only people on this planet that scare him are his immediate family. He decided from a young age that an education was the only way to get away from his upbringing. He was right about that, he just, should have stuck with it. He, by some trick of fate, got a degree in education, and moved to Florida to teach in a ghetto school. That's a whole raft of stories in itself. He was married to a sweet young thing from New Jersey, who could have played the line for the Steelers. This woman was big, mean and mouthy. Not to mention somewhat football shaped: little feet, pointy head, and significant girth.
She had a voice that made you comfortable with fingernails on the chalk board.
They were out and about and had left their puppies tied to the back porch post. When they returned the dogs were going nutzoid at the back door. He, being quick on the uptake, college ed-u-cated and all, immediately sez “Theres something in there!”
The line backer unties the dogs, a poodle and a sheltie, and they all burst into the house. The dogs run to the cook stove and raise mortal hell.
The college grad-u-ate sez “Theres something in there!”
He reaches down to the drawer on the bottom of the stove and snatches it open, out pops a Warf Rat custom made for a four inch drain pipe. The rat dodges around the corner and ducks down the shower drain where he came in, dogs in noisy pursuit. The linebacker has levitated to the top of the table screaming and squealing fit to bust an ear drum.
IQ’s are now deep into the negative numbers.
He has to DO SOMETHING!!!
He snags his .50cal muzzle loader and pours in a double charge and rams a patch, runs to the bathroom and jams the muzzle into the drain. When he touched it off, he realized something BAD was happening when the fire backed up out of the hole, and broke two five gallon water jugs.
The dogs join the linebacker.
I my minds eye I can see the rat, launched out of the drain pipe, like a hairy cannon ball, tail on fire.
The boys ears were ringing so bad he was answering the phone for weeks and no one was calling.
Let this be a lesson, stop, think, plan, before you blow something the heck up.
Posted by DW at 9:40 PM
I just had a long discussion with an Iraq obstructionist.
Folks, we went there with the best information available at the time, right or wrong.
It was a consensus among intelligence agencies.
It was also what the Democrat party had been saying for years.
That doesn't buy you anything, except heart ache.
The loudest voice, and the most consistent message came from Al-quida, "we will destroy you, we will rule the world".
Anyone who isn't listening is living in a dream.
We better cowboy up, get the spurs on and get ready to rodeo, 'cause things are about to go south if we don't!
Posted by DW at 7:55 PM
How do you spot any thing under 3300 feet of ice? And how do you calibrate a laser altimeter from several hundred miles away? How does fresh water stay liquid under 3300 ft. of ice? How does this constitute any reference to Global warming? Some body 'splain to me, pack a lunch, start early, this is gonna take time.
The squints are tagging anything they want funded as Global Warming.
Posted by DW at 7:43 AM
Have you ever considered the most impressive automotive indiscretions that have occurred around you? Medics and firefighters get to see a lot of them. Most are fender benders, some are major, some are fatal. Which one stands out in your mind? Is it the one where the mini van is doing cart wheels down the street while the soccer mom is Still on the cell? How about the one where the cement mixer avoids one car and rolls over on the pickup with two occupants (another cell incident)?
I was about twelve years old and living in a three story house on the edge of the main road out of town. There was a road that crossed the main road and continued as a dirt road as it passed the house. Our yard was fairly large, probably a hundred feet square. My room was on the back of the house on the third floor.
The only person I talked to about the details of this little interaction was the driver of the auto that got hit. He was driving to work at sometime around midnight. The speed limit was 55mph, it was fairly cool and clear. He was drinking coffee and listening to the radio, just enjoying the ride. His car, a Pontiac Bonneville, commonly referred to as a land yacht, was heavily built as some APCs.
Out of nowhere, according to him, there was a flash of white light and a noise like an explosion. Suddenly he found himself in the back seat, his clothes almost torn off, and the engine of the land yacht was now in the front seat. When we went out to see what happened he was running around in circles trying to figure if this was an alien abduction gone wrong. He was seriously confused. I couldn't blame him.
I slept through everything except the dude under my window, bleeding in a puddle and moaning fit to raise the dead, "somebody please help me, I'm dying". Not dying, but drunk, and sick. He was from the second car, also a land yacht.
I know you will find this hard to believe but alcohol was involved. The four occupants of this car had been partying and were heading home. They intended to cross the main road and follow the dirt road through to the bypass around town. They had just reached escape speed going down hill when they ran a stop sign, and found the first car. They intersected right front fender to left front fender. They were going fast enough that the frame of the second car dug gouges in the pavement. The first car was doing the speed limit, the second car, you can make your own guess. The old Pontiac Tri Power engines weren't quick, but given enough time, they could get up an impressive head of steam. These boys were judgmentally impaired, and had plenty of road to get seriously stupid, being dog drunk didn't help.
When they hit the first car they kind of changed direction and hit a huge transmission pole in our front yard, split it half way up, and drove it backward in hard clay several inches. They continued across the front yard, knocked a twenty foot tall hedge over, jumped off a three foot high wall, went across a parking lot, jumped a concrete lined ditch three feet wide, and hit a building hard enough to jerk the windshield out. Some of our neighbors a half mile or so away heard the impact, and thought the building next door was blowing up again, and came to watch the fire!
The building next door was a body shop. When the guy who lived there came out and saw the car crushed against the wall, he promptly snatched one of the mirrors off the car and hid it, to sell later. There was one man left in the car, his shoes had been knocked off his feet and were still sitting on the floor side by side. His friends, and I use the term very loosely, had slid his unconscious carcass across the seat, glass and all, and put him in the drivers seat. We could see the smears in the blood, really nice guy's. I bet they were digging glass out of his butt for days!They had run off to hide in our garden. The cops showed up and sorted everything out, removed the wrecks, and generally restored order. I didn't hear if any of them died.
A couple of days later, I was in the front yard and saw something shiny on the roof. I climbed up to find windshield glass and badges from the cars, a hundred feet from the road.
Posted by DW at 6:31 AM
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I love the cold weather, in small doses. I love snow, when it stays off the roads. I feel for those people in New York who are digging out and trying to stay warm. I have been in Oswego when it got COLD! I have been up the road from Oswego, in Ft. Drum, when it snowed three feet in one night and the wind chill went down to about thirty below. The advantage they have over us is, they do this every year, several times. Their road crews are somewhat prepared, though no one can really prepare for twelve feet.
In the southeast we get snow for a day at the time. It melts at night, and in the morning, ice. The good people don't get a lot of experience. Our ever increasing population of transplants from the Northeast seem to believe their heritage allows them to void the laws of physics, and drive as though traction depends on attitude.The teenagers, they think spinning circles at 60mph is good fun, trees not with standing.
Here at the beach, it only snows about once in ten or twelve years. Down here you can whisper the word ice and someone will slide into the ditch. If we have an exceptionally heavy frost, schools close.
The last big one was on Christmas Eve, it snowed about a foot and a half. For the next 24 hours I ran rescue calls out of my four by four pick up. I’ve been driving in slick weather for a lot of years, I never did it because I wanted to, only in the event of a serious need. There were a couple of us ferrying nurses and patients to and from the hospital, moving the elderly when their heat crapped out. I remember being in the squad building listening to the sheriff deputies searching the long roads in the swamp for cars reported to have gone into the ditch or canal. The drifts were deep enough to pack into the radiator and get into the fan and belts to make them slip and the alternator stops charging. I wondered if we would have to go get them.
I carried an elderly couple to their son’s house. When I pulled into the drive the snow covered the headlights on my F250.
There was a run to the Island to get a woman about to deliver her first child, she got a ride to the main road on a motor grader, and the remainder in a Jeep pickup. I broke trail for them to drive in my tracks.
The next day we had a packed, icy, slick mess. Of course everyone had to get on the roads to “see how pretty”.
I was delivering a nurse from the hospital to the island. By this time I have pulled so many people out of the ditch, I was leaving the strap hooked up and just toss it up in the bed, to move on to the next one. I saw a compact car stuck , with the driver belly down in the snow trying to clear the tires where he had spun out. I moved to the shoulder and as I got out to help, an SUV passed me, spun in a slow 360, caught it and continued on down the road.
I asked the dude if he wanted to be pulled out, he said yes, of course. When he stood up, I had to think about it. He was wearing a Klingon uniform from the original Star Trek, his car had the Bat symbol on the hood and Bat Signal emblems on the head lights.
I briefly considered leaving him there, not wrapped too tight, obviously. Driving was tough enough without worrying about space man going to warp speed on snow. Not to worry, when he turned his engine over it sounded like some was in the oil pan with a big hammer trying to get out. He’s not going far, in that car at least. I drug him out and sent him on his way, light blue cloud wafting behind.
Listen people, you don’t have to go anywhere. It’ll all be there when you get to it. Most of the people on the road can’t drive that well anyway, toss in a little slick, and then some moron with more throttle than brains, “bad things" will happen!
I don’t do driving tips, if you need me to tell you how to stay out of trouble, you have a serious problem.
But then, we all know, deep in our hearts, that we are the best driver on the road.
Posted by DW at 10:06 PM
I mentioned one of the things I enjoy is four wheeling. I have owned several; trucks, SUVs, ATV, and so on. There is something about going past the point everyone else has to stop. Around here the all wheel drive is for mud in the woods and sand on the beach.
I resolved to come back with a much more capable vehicle, on a trailer, with a camper to enjoy the experience in comfort. I bought a full size Bronco, for three thousand dollars and added seven thousand in parts. So now I have 35x12.5 tires 4.11 gears front and rear, lockers front and rear, 8000lb winch, soft top, dual batteries, manual locking hubs just to name a few changes. Bull bumpers and a roll cage are in the plans. The tow truck is an F350 diesel, crew cab, with an over the cab camper.
Posted by DW at 6:25 AM
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
I was over at Flying Flo’s Forum this morning. She was talking about Ch-47’s. I used to be in a ‘Hook company. I was much younger and had a great time with it. I was a Crash Rescue type attached to the heavy lift company. I served with a bunch of people with more character than Winston Bloody Churchill. Most of that lot was a little crazy and prone to foolishness. I had a Mexican crew chief with a death wish, and a pothead on the roof turret; I was the driver/operator. A 530C crash truck is marginal at best for rough terrain aircraft crash firefighting, and if the aircraft is armed, good luck. Our mission was recovery and little else.
The rest of the company was involved in trying to keep the airplanes flying, and taxiing the 82nd around. We were forever fluttering off to haul some artillery battery, or take some sneaky Pete's and dump them out in the woods.
The real fun was watching the crews try to keep themselves amused. When the flight warrants were getting in hours, sometimes we would go along for the ride. In the summer we would open all the doors, drop the tail ramp, and enjoy the breeze. The crew chief and flight engineer would wear fall protection and walk around the cargo area. When in the field they all wore a survival vest, one component in the vest was a switch blade knife.
A couple of the loony’s were standing in the back of the airplane, tailgate down, toes hanging over the edge. The altitude was about twelve hundred feet. They were both hooked into the center cable, just standing around. One of the idiots looked at the other and stepped out the door! Now the moron was hanging under the airplane about 10 feet or so, swinging in the wind at about 75 knots. The thing is, as he swung, on the forward arc he would smack into the bottom of the ‘Hook. He starts yelling, “Pull me up!” The other loony pulls his switch blade out and opens it.
The first loony KNOWS the second will cut him loose and explain it as a tragic accident!
The nut case at the end of the strap came over the edge of the ramp like someone had kicked him.
Motivation, is a powerful force. He never did that again, learned the first time.
Posted by DW at 10:42 AM
Monday, February 12, 2007
Yes, I know it's really Wednesday. Today was the only day I have off this week, so today is the occasion. I was planing dinner, grilled mackerel steaks, rice and steamed veggies, for the love of my life. Bless her heart and soul, she suggested we go to the Fox and Hounds Pub. We don't go out often due to our schedules. We got there early and no one was there to be noisy or irritating. We went to the book store and picked up a bunch of good stuff. Early to day, I took care of the traditional brightly colored weeds, and resisted the urge to buy her something Sparkly. There will be other times I am sure. If she is content with arrangements, because I have to start a long refuel on nights, I will be better later. Guys remember the cards, flowers and shiny things. It'll only cost more later if you don't.
Posted by DW at 8:08 PM
John, the gigolo who thinks he is somebody, Kerry has opened his mouth and inserted his foot again. If it weren't so tiresome it would be funny. He says Iran wants stability in the region.
Hullo... Earth to moronic tinfoil hat gas bag... Iran wants stability with Iraq as their province, and Israel as a smoking radioactive crater.
Why is it that a Fwench wanna be, ex-Presidential candidate, thinks he has some insight? A slow third grader could figure that one out. Engage in diplomacy? Are you nuts, that only works if the parties negotiate in good faith. I think we can rule that one out.
Kerry, shut up, get a job, be a man, arrested development is out of style. Dumb A**!
I should apologize to the rest of the world, for ranting at an idiot, it solves nothing.
Posted by DW at 6:50 AM
I like to drive fast, not so fast as to push the limits of the vehicle, just enough to feel it. I have had Emergency Vehicle Operations training, I used to race sports cars, and of course I was complete fool growing up. The constabulary has issued me enough citations to paper a medium wall. I relate this to confirm my bonafides only, and don’t recommend the behavior to anyone.
The township where I ran rescue had it’s own dispatch system, and emergency phone number. There were several dispatchers with overly developed motherhood tendencies. They would mother every emergency responder, or LEO in sight.
The most senior, and most professional of the crew was Boopsie. She spent the day dealing with drunks, irate citizens, inept politicians, and what have you. All with nary a ruffled feather. She most always smiled, except when quick freezing an idiot with a stare. She was unperturbed by calamities of epic proportions.
With the foregoing, you can imagine the response if you hear fear in her voice. I was sitting in the squad room when she came on the air with a call for us. When she spoke her first word it was obvious something was bad wrong, and Boopsie was trembling. I listened with one ear while getting the unit fired up and outside.
Toddler, choking, not breathing, and they are four miles away at a shopping center. I buckled in, put the unit in drive, held the brakes, eased down on the fuel, and felt the suspension load up as the torque came through to the wheels. I waited, but not for long, a car with a red light on the dash slid around the corner, into the parking lot and stopped about three feet away. Two of our members hit the seats so hard the unit rocked to the side. I released the brakes and nailed the throttle. As we rounded the corner the guy in the front says “I’ll have a ticket when I get back. “ About that time we passed one of our LEO’s with a Jeep pulled over. He must have thought he was watching a movie being filmed, cars sliding around corners ambulances screaming by a second later.
A word to the wise, if there are babies involved, frenzy ensues. We make a determined effort to avoid incedents, but don't get in the way, it's a good way to get scared silly. That move to the right and slow down thing, thats a good start.
This officer was new, but pretty quick on the uptake, he figures this is Not Good, tells his collar to drive safe, and eases back to the PD for an update and to stand by for…whatever.
As he walks in Boopsie tells him, baby call, he nods and waits. He has children too.
All ambulances are not equal, and this one didn’t have the room that some do but, it had the speed. I don’t know how much because of the stupid little pin that gets in the way of the speedometer needle at the bottom. I didn’t have time to look anyway, from tone to arrival was four minuets. As we rolled into the strip mall, we got the word from Boopsie that the kid was breathing again. There had been no traffic on the way, I'm glad. I would have had some explaining to do.
It seems that the toddler had escaped parental oversight long enough to snag a sea shell shiny thing and munch on it. Teething, I suppose. A shell popped off and blocked the airway, daddy was the resourceful sort and turned baby upside down and shook him by the feet. The shell popped out, baby started to breathe. We transported the family to the ER to ensure there was no reason for the throat to swell later.
The ER staff aggravated the poor sprout ‘til they had to change his diaper. He had great lungs.
Posted by DW at 4:54 AM
Sunday, February 11, 2007
If you like simple, tasty, and quick, try this.
Enough boneless skinless chicken breasts to cover the bottom of a baking dish.
Rinse and slice a pocket in the breast as deep as you can
Stuff with Swiss cheese.
Salt and pepper to taste
Roll each breast in a mixture of Dijon mustard and Horseradish
Then Roll each in Italian seasoned bread crumbs.
Bake @350 until internal temp is 165 f in the thickest part of the breast
Sprinkle or spray with Lime juice
Serve with steamed Veggies and wild rice
Posted by DW at 8:15 AM
Here we are at Stump Water Nuclear Station, oh-dark-thirty, loading neutrons into the hi velocity slingshot, firing them into the core.
This is one of the most boring jobs in the world, half the time we are doing routine testing. The other half we are sitting around conducting a massive shoot-the-s**t about every subject under the sun. Very infrequently, something off normal (we don't have emergencies), will scare the begeesus out of all of us.
We produce something close to 1000 MW an hour. That requires controlling 13 million pounds per hour of water and maintaining level in an 18 ft diameter pipe, within a 42 inch band. We normally keep the fluctuations down to a couple of inches. Good trick don't you think? The proper operator action for a design basis accident, at 100 percent power with a 100 day power history, is verify automatic actions. The technology is good solid 1950's stuff, with some digital controls thrown in. If the tinfoil hat crowd starts to quiver about "terrorists will steal a fuel bundle and make a BOMB!", let 'em try. I'll make you a deal, get all the brainy "insurgents" to drop by and get their bundle, all at once, they're heavy. I'll get them a bundle out of the spent fuel pool, and there will immediately be a world wide shortage of brainy insurgents.
Oops, too late!
Trust me on this, you can't steal a fuel bundle. It would take our help and a rail car. Let's just say we would be quite reluctant.
We deal with one thousand pound steam, high voltage electricity, hi rad fields, maybe liquid nitrogen, liquid hydrogen, liquid oxygen, it's all good as long as it's where it belongs. If, on the other hand, its out roaming around, things get dicey. One of the things we, and all Nukes, are designed for is a loss of offsite power. We have standby generators and steam operated pumps, and lots of ways to get water in the core. We are designed for a lot of other things that are to long to go into here. Nuclear Safety isn't our problem, and personnel safety is up to the individual. If you are an operator, you have to be qualified to do Fire Fighting, Rescue, Hazmat, EMS, and if that isn't enough, operate a nuclear power plant.
Everyone I work with can lecture for hours and hours on things no one else either knows about or cares. That's just at the entry level. To be hired you have to pass a timed math and science test. You go immediately to class for five months. Two weeks of those are math and physics, pass those, or don't pass go , don't collect anything. Once you make it to shift you get four books of tasks to perform, simulate, or discuss. Each task is done twice, on separate days for different people. That can take nine months or so. If you are annoying it can take a couple of years. Then at the end a Senior Reactor Operator walks you around and plays "stump the chump", until he is too tired to make you look foolish anymore, or is satisfied you are only a danger to your self. Then you can actually perform the job. After a couple of years of jumping every time something goes thump in the plant, when you can actually tell what is about to bite you, you can be called an operator.
We are required to be letter perfect in every function, to follow procedure exactly, and at the same time, know when the procedure is wrong. Then you put the plant in a safe condition, and regroup. The second sentence is a contradiction of the first. Supposedly we are motivated independant thinkers (???), who only work from approved documents, while maintaining a questioning attitude, and a conservative mindset. Are you confused yet?
It only gets better.
When I first came here I was inquisitive and wanted to do "things". It was "fun".
I got over it.
Now, I can stand and watch something mechanical absolutely eat itself and keep my hands in my pockets.
"Yep, its gonna blow up, but it won't splatter this far. Stand right here, so I can get behind you, good."
It sort of works like Bomb Disposal, if you see me running for the door, keep up.
If I run into a building, go to the parking lot and wait for the "all clear".
It's probably nothing.
Posted by DW at 7:51 AM
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Here at Stump Water Nuclear Station, we are the most investigated regulated folks you can imagine. Every five years we are investigated by every random collection of uppercase letters around. That includes the credit rating companies, federal, state, and local law. These people know things I wouldn't tell my mother. I am subject to random drug screening, random body search, and continual behavioral observation. We go through enough stuff on entry that the TSA at the airport is just another ho-hum.
The thing that looks a little odd to me is when the security folks come in they get the same treatment.
Then they go inside and get their guns and body armor.
Posted by DW at 7:28 PM
Long ago and far away some of the boys felt the need to wish a fond farewell to one of our shift who was about to plummet into the depths of matrimony, again. We loaded up two or three carloads of judgmentally impaired nukes, and headed to the nearest center of debauchery. The bunch started off with a slight buzz, and went down hill from there.
If you can imagine a giggling gaggle of goobers galumphing around, spring loaded in the f**kup position, that’s us! We stopped in the first gentlemen’s club we came to, grabbed chairs, and stared at the employees.
I am here to testify, they were worth staring at. Each and everyone was a charter member of the overdeveloped and underdressed sorority. I don’t know how much of what was real, nor did I care at the time. There wasn’t a tan line in the house. Oh, how I love the beach.
This was a great place to get rid of major amounts of cash, either in the form of dollar bills or credit card slips. Some of us less sophisticated types just brought what we could afford to toss away, and left it at that. One of our crew was a little more crafty than the rest of us.
I don’t know how many bars one has to be tossed out of to learn that the bouncers don’t check to see if your tab has been paid, or the credit slip signed, but our little buddy “Tick Head” was experienced. He whipped the Amex card out handed it to the beer maid, and just kept telling her later. We all ordered large containers of our favorite pickling fluids and set to with a will. The only one not drinking was the groom to be.
After a couple of hours, I think, it’s all still a little fuzzy, Tick Head started a little game. He would wander around the place until he caught a dancer bent over and run up behind her and get close enough to fog her g-string with his breath, she would whirl around and take a swing at him, he would duck and run. Reset, repeat, until the bouncer noticed. Biggest man I’ve ever seen, snagged the Tick by the collar and launched him like a soggy cruise missile, into the parking lot. The bouncer then told me to get the whole bunch out, now!
Yessir, on our way, sir.
The tab had to be a couple of hundred bucks, but sans autograph, it's worthless.
It was a little ways to our motel rooms on the beach, we checked in, got to the room, and Tick heads party detector went into over drive. That boy could find a party in a graveyard. He took off and the wiser, or maybe the drunker of us decided to call it a night. The groom to be went home, and the Tick started a fight. He wasn’t a big guy, but he sucker punched some dude off a balcony anyway. I never found out why. Thank God he was close to the ground. Some of the guys felt a lot more responsible for him than I did, and tried to keep the idiot where we could protect him.
Idle hope there, da Tick wanted to play.
They would track him down, and drag him bodily to the room, as soon as they let him go, he would bolt. After two or three iterations of this ignorance, I said “Fine, let'em kill him, he deserves it! We'll bury him on the beach in the morning!"
It’s now about three o’clock, I have racked out on one of the beds with my back to the room. The Tick Head leans over me and says in a whiney baby voice “What’s the matter are you sleepy?” I growl “Yes, leave me alone.” He pokes me in the back “Don’t you want to play?” I snarl “GO AWAY!” He leans over a little too much and whines in a little kid voice “I want to play!”
He has tread on my last nerve.
I rolled toward him, grabbed his collar with my right hand, stuck my right elbow in his solar plexus, and heaved. He hit the wall on the other side of the bed hard enough to take the pictures off the wall.
He slept peacefully right where he fell until morning. Great party!
Posted by DW at 12:38 AM
Friday, February 9, 2007
In another story I mentioned that my sister would adopt anything for a pet, especially if it would irritate someone. Keep in mind that this girl wouldn’t work in a pie factory, as a pie taster. She is stone cold lazy. Even though she is president of the welfare and perpetually broke club, there will be livestock. She will have several dogs, cats, rodents, birds, chicken, goats, well you get the picture.
A person who has this many critters, not to be confused with her five separate husbands, must have acreage. Have you dealt with a bank lately? Shylock himself would be no more methodical about wringing payment from the penniless carcass of his debtor. She is the only person I have ever heard of, whom the bank GAVE a house and land. That would be, free, gratis, take it and leave us alone.
Drop me in the pot and call me Stew.
If I am lying may I be struck stone cold sober.
She must have pictures of someone.
Anyway she now lives in a house paid for by disability checks, and keeps her goats in a house given to her by the bank. The remaining live stock is penned in the yard, or so I hear, I don’t go around her.
She has always been a big one for teaching her pets tricks, or teaching dogs to mind. I once saw her threaten a pair of one hundred thirty five pound Dobermans with a piece of pine straw. Those dogs didn’t lay, down, they fell over and wouldn’t move anything. Nothing but nose wiggling and eyes rolling to see who was going to get whacked first. Its too bad her kids never minded that well. She would teach the dogs to smile (unnerving that), and teach the Parrot to talk, or imitate sounds. Probably the only feathered phone in the county.
In the summer she would put the Parrot and Ferret, in their cages out on the porch for fresh air. The neighbors had a more normal bunch of pets, a dog or two and a barn cat.
The kitty was not wise in the way of exotic pets, yet. He decides the big bird sitting so close to the ground deserved a little closer investigation. If I know barn cats he was a little hungry. The coast was clear so he wanders over to have a peep. He over looked the Ferret in the other cage, just a smelly rat, right? He hopped up on the porch rail and starts to stroll down to the big bird. Bird notices, moves around to where he can cock an eye toward thing the unsuspecting kitty. Kitty gets a little too close, the bird starts to bark like a dog, which disturbs the Ferret, which stands up and hisses like a snake. Kitty thinks he has lost his mind.
I bet he’s still hiding under a bush.
Posted by DW at 5:14 PM
OK, peeps I have some questions for the liberal contingent.
First- Why do the Islamofascist twerps get a pass on women’s rights? I mean whip ‘em, beat ‘em, make ‘em wear a tent. Kick them out of school, for Gods sake honor killings, and not a squeak from the Feminazi abortion crowd?
Second- There is ample proof, if you look, that the Iraqi Secret Police were doing things to aid the fundamentalist Muslim radical to commit mass murder. It doesn’t show up any where. There was a convoy of trucks stopped from delivering a load of nerve gas and various other agents, the people involved ADMITTED to being Al-quada , and said they intended to build a three cornered cloud over Istanbul, and kill a hundred thousand people. No out cry in the news, why? Keep in mind these weaponized gasses are the things that only a government can produce. No one noticed!
Third- There are documents recovered from Iraq that tell of loading Saddam's chemical weapons on to commercial airliners and shipping them to Syria. No one said a word to the American people, WHY?
Fourth- Saddam was proven to be feeding people into a F**king Chipper ALIVE, for heavens sake, and apparently no one cared. WHY????
If the silly, cure the world, contingent expects the US government to do what they want, please be consistent, fix it or don’t, I don’t care, just deal with the TRUTH, not your whims!
Stop the heavy breathing and try to focus on something constructive, make the world a better place, toss the BDS, and F**king DO SOMETHING!!!!!
Just so you Know, if I am confronted with a rabid dog, I will kill it and worry about it later. If I am attacked I will defend myself and my family, and worry about it later. If you threaten my life, my family, or my freedom, may a Loving God have mercy on your soul, for I will not!
If you are confused at his point, you are beyond help!
That's all I'm going to say about that!
Posted by DW at 9:05 AM
The war in Iraq is in the headlines constantly. There are successes every day, recently the combined forces captured or killed Al-quida leaders and destroyed training camps, this was all under reported and completely overshadowed by the death of a bimbo from Texas.
CentCom gives all the stories, win, lose, or draw.
Check it out!
Posted by DW at 3:47 AM
Thursday, February 8, 2007
E-mailed to me,
Number of physicians in the US: 700,000
Accidental deaths caused by physicians per year: 120,000
Accidental deaths per physician: 0.171
(U.S. Dept. of Health & Human Services)
Number of gun owners in the US: 80,000,000
Number of accidental gun deaths per year (all age groups): 1,500
Accidental deaths per gun owner: 0.0000188(Benton County News Tribune, 17 November 1999)
And so statistically, doctors are approximately 9,000 times more dangerous than gun owners.
"Remember -- not everyone has a gun, but everyone has at least one Doctor."
I'm thinking of taking my Dr. to the range for a motivation session.
I had a Dr. friend tell me "Never go to a teaching hospital for treatment, those people are still learning to be doctors, when you are learning you will kill people. You have to learn to live with it."
Best Dr. I have ever met.
Posted by DW at 9:37 PM
Don't want to be a lap dog, some of those laps are not too attractive.
There's a lot to be said for laying in the sun, with the breeze keeping you cool, and getting a belly rub.
No time clock, no bills, no worries.
Scratch when and where it itches.
Kids all love to play with you.
And then theres always a belly rub.
Drooling is not considered a sign of mental problems, but rather a compliment to the chef.
Take the smell you like the verry most, and multiply it by 50,000.(Bacon)
The pure joy of riding with the wind in your face.
A long nap by the fire.
What about that belly rub.
Simple games like fetch, that always get you a pat on the head.
Chasing something just for the joy of running.
A full tummy, a warm blanket, and a long nap.
And best of all, a belly rub.
Posted by DW at 7:42 AM
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Why do the worst memories stick to you like chiggers in your butt crack? They don't get better on their own, and you can't dig them out no matter how hard you try.
I remember the first response at my first fire company. Auto accident, a young man drinking, no seat belt, his truck overturned, he slid out the window just as the truck settled on its roof, onto his head. Thirty years later and I can close my eyes and see him in the ambulance as though I am still standing there, his head was about two inches thick, blood was matted in his beard.
The worst ones drag on for a long time and it seems you fight, and fight, and when you are too tired to go on, or have tried everything in your power, its over and you lose.
The July Forth celebration here is huge. The tourists flock until it seems the islands will sink. Everyone is here for the sun and sea, the parties and street dance. Those of us who live here just endure until the week is over. Rescue is sometimes back to back, and other times, its the calm before the storm.
We got a call for a cardiac/drowning/respiratory emergency, at the extreme end of our island. That would be a quarter to a half mile past the end of the road, in deep sand. I rolled the ambulance and crew, the Suburban "Beach Ambulance" came behind. The LEO on scene started yelling hurry, never a good sign, particularly in holiday traffic. When we got to the end, I turned the unit around, parked it heading out, and sprinted onto the beach.
Have you ever see the TV beach shows with all the swim suit models doing CPR? When people are in the surf doing chest compressions it just never looks quite the same. The patient was literally half in the water as our people tubed her and set up the O2.
The "beach ambulance" isn't worthy of the name, all the gear is there, but not the room. We grabbed a back board and slammed the lady in the back, got CPR going. We looked really stupid to me when the unit wouldn't move in the sand. The driver was glassy eyed in panic about then, the only thing I could do was get a herd of men to push/ lift the Suburban and get it moving. I ran back to the waiting transport unit and beat him there.
The transfer was quick if not pretty and we were on our way. About two miles on we stopped to pick up county EMS and a Medic. We were close to twenty miles out, seventeen at best. Traffic was heavy, and pissed off when they got back on the road. In some places there are turning lanes, some places have three lanes, there are however ditches on both sides all the way to town. We made Stump Water General in sixteen minuets. I didn't hit anyone or cause any wrecks, no thanks to me.
The Suburban driver wasn't the only on getting a little frayed around the edges.
When we got to the ER they were waiting with everything they had. There were two very good Doctors and the senior staff. Everything that could be done was done, including a subclavian cut down and a pacemaker inserted into her heart. One of the Doctors, had me drawing up meds while the other was doing things I'd rather not know about.
When the pace maker was in place kicking her heart along, I stepped back and looked at more hoses than I had ever imagined. I didn't see them, I saw the sand in her open eyes. Not a grain or two, clumps, she would never blink.
One of our hero types was so gruff with the family they are still looking for him, to kick his fanny, as far as I know. I know I am not supposed to give the family news, I don't have the medical knowledge, but I had to show a little compassion and tell them something. They sent my crew gift cards later, to a local restaurant, just for the kindness.
The husband asked to see her, the ER staff said OK but wait. It took ten minuets or so to clean her up enough to keep him from going into shock on the spot. It still wasn't pretty.
The really bad part was her two boys had been in the water with her. When her aneurysm ruptured she went down like she had been shot. Her six year old held her head out of the water until help got to her.
She went out on Life Flight that day, four days later they said their goodbyes and let her go.
I can still see the sand in her eyes.
Posted by DW at 10:56 PM
I read Mr. Fixit's post about old demons, and called all my family this morning and told them that I love them. My thanks to him for reminding me.
God gives us grace to live, one day at a time, no one knows the day or hour when God may call us home. Let no loved one suffer because we failed to tell them that we care.
Folks it was a long night at Stump Water Nuclear Station, night shift sucks. It's just a fact of life. When you get out of bed at three in the morning and get a drink of water and the little light in the refrigerator comes on, that means someone like me is at work. Every night all year long, no holidays, no breaks. I don't expect sympathy, I do it because I want to, it's not a sentence under law, therefore it's voluntary.
Even so, it gets rough, my family gets a break from me, and I miss them horribly. I read some really painful stuff from The Rocky Mountain Medic, it reminds me of how transient all our lives are, and how much I would miss each and everyone I love. I have resolved to tell each one of the babies I love them today.
Posted by DW at 9:23 AM
I have been reading at several sites around the blogosphere, and it seems like everything kicks out a "reminds me of story". This one will make some of the guys go "hmmmmm".
After nineteen years of marriage, I found myself single and almost forty. The first thing I did was go out and find a girlfriend too young and way crazier than me. She had led quite the sheltered life and didn't know what to think of me and my strange ways. She was a tree hugger; let's pet the bears sort of individual. Hunting and shooting were completely foreign to her nature. Please don't get the idea that this was some sort of retiring little flower. Absolutely not, if she got the wind in her sails she would tear me a new orifice in an instant. Which makes teaching her about guns a little insane, but, there you go, that’s me
I have some really strange acquaintances: murderers, moonshiners, car thieves, drug dealers, career military, ex-CIA, I even know one retired gentleman who was in country when Che was killed. Most of them I can't say a lot about because some one will recognize them. One of these guys has, or had, more guns than Wallymart. If you go to his house and sit, when you let your gun hand fall to the side, it will land on something lethal and loaded. He's not paranoid, just really cautious.
We were visiting and kind of hanging out when we decided to go to the range. We took about a truck load of stuff and went to the local indoor shootemup. This gentleman was virtually adopted by the owner of the range, who held the correct license and stamps to possess several full auto weapons, for rent.
Let me explain here that military training aside, I am not a fan of full auto fire. It has its place, but I prefer the one shot one kill scenario. It is, however, lots of fun.
We started the young lady out with a .22 auto pistol, moved on to a 9mm auto, steered clear of the Thompson, and loaded up a full stocked Uzi.
Now guys, chicks with guns, you gotta love 'em! I showed her the method of operating and stepped back. She being a little leery of the weapon (smart girl), asked if I could make it "go one at a time". Sure, click on the selector, she squeezes off two rounds. I get the OK and return it to full auto.
She stood there and ripped off three round bursts, just like she knew what she was doing. She was hooked. She took her silhouette to work and put it on the wall of her cube. It got some thoughtful looks from the folks at Stump Water Nuclear Station.
Now you can let your imagination run wild, insert the lady you would most like to see trying to melt the barrel off a machine gun.
Go ahead, you know you want to.
Since that time I have introduced my wife and youngest step daughter to firearms, and the oldest stepdaughtrer wants to try skeet. The wifes favorites are the .22 pistol and the 10-22 target rifle.
Posted by DW at 3:30 AM
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
I have commented elsewhere that socialized medicine is a train wreck, I still believe that. Some Canuks of my acquaintance note that they never worried about stuff, it just happened. Whats up with that? No personal responsibility? I suppose not.
The salient point is the wait for treatment, only until shortly after you die. Lots of Canadians travel to the US for treatment, if they can, rather than wait. Doesn't sound like a good deal for them.
I know some Russian expats who tell the same sort of tale. People die waiting, Doctors whom I wouldn't allow near my dog, botched treatments, lousy facilities, graft the likes of which we can't contemplate.
Doctors as a group, might be humanitarians, but overall they're in it for the money. They might feel they have to "give something back", that's generally guilt driven because of a large bank account. This is the reason the best Doctors go where they can make the best money. Not many great Doctors in areas where socialism rules.
I don't like preferential treatment for anyone, I feel I deserve the best Doctors money can buy, but it's my money, I worked for it. If the busy breeders who can't provide for themselves, or their progeny can't afford the best, why is it my responsibility to take care of them? Why shouldn't they curb their familial needs to something they can afford?
Flo has released her Snark! Go see!
Posted by DW at 11:08 AM
Democrats plan to use the money to help fund their agenda without raising taxes. House and Senate leaders say the IRS could collect $100 billion each year by going after unpaid taxes, mostly on unreported income, that the IRS estimates at about $300 billion annually.
The Treasury Department, however, says there is no realistic prospect of recovering even one-tenth as much as Democrats are talking about, the Times said.
In the budget President George W. Bush will propose Monday, the department will announce plans to go after tax cheats, but officials said the proposals would bring in less than $10 billion a year in extra tax revenue.
IRS Commissioner Mark Everson testified before a Senate committee a year ago that the IRS could recover "between $50 billion and $100 billion without changing the dynamic between the IRS and the people."
The era of tax audits is coming back. Those folks who blithely assumed that their interpretation of the tax code is how it will be, best wake up early. The taxman doesn't just look at big business, they don't really want to take them to task, they have lawyers and accountants to argue their case. Joe taxpayer doesn't. Tax auditors have the power to ruin your life,by freezing your accountants or seizing assets. Then the burden of proof is on you. God help us all!
Get an accountant to do your taxes, put aside some deductions, file a conservative return. Then they'll screw you anyway.
Posted by DW at 8:15 AM
"I think Americans are tired of politicians who try to fool them," he said.
Edwards touted his proposal for universal health care, saying he would pay for it by eliminating tax cuts enacted during the Bush administration for people making more than $200,000 a year and by doing a better job of collecting taxes.
This ambulance chasing wannabe, has too much moose in his hair. His brains have gummed up.
Am I supposed to feel better about him emptying my pockets just because he tells me in advance? Unlikely at best. Where do the Donks come up with these ideas?
Posted by DW at 8:09 AM
Monday, February 5, 2007
I like to hike and camp. It's probably a hold over from my younger days when everything was fun. Sleeping on rocks, cuddling with spiders and reptiles, getting wet and cold and sometimes bit, just so life would feel so good when the discomfort subsides. I was born to ridge runners, and became one my self. I haven't had a lot of luck with long distance hiking, knee and foot problems could slow down a Trojan warrior, and I'm certainly not one of those. I have hiked portions of the Appalachian Trail three times, each was disaster, I would still like to walk the five million steps.
The AT was built in the depression by the CC Corps. The original length was 2200 miles. The trail starts in Georgia and runs all the way to Maine, and has been extended into Canada. There are many people who hike the trail in one grand effort. They are the "through hikers". The legendes include "Wingfoot Bruce" and "Grandma Moses" they have done the entire trail three times or more.
The AT is not for the weak willed or thoughtless. To do the trail start to finish, most folks, begin in April, at the Amicolola Falls State Park in Georgia. The first nine miles to the trail head are all up hill. Get used to it, it happens a lot. The trails criss cross, there are side trails to water and side trails to overlooks. The main trail is marked by a painted white blaze, close enough together so that one will come in sight before the last is out of sight behind. There are cut stone walls to walk on, in places the trail is a few feet wide with a vertical drop on each side. The shelters available along the way are three sided, open to the weather on the fourth. Some, in bear country have a chain link fence across the open side. The shelter on Blood Mountain looks like it was built by Buddist monks. When I first saw it, my jaw kind of sagged open, I rember thinking, Monks? The shelters are about ten miles apart.
Yeah, Yeah, so what? It's all fun when you can enjoy the scenery, and there is some great scenery, but what if you are BLIND?
Bill Irwin was, and is blind. He is the only blind person to ever hike the trail. He did so because of his faith in God.
I was able bodied and had good vision and thought a couple of times my number was up! The idea of walking two thousand miles in the dark, I still shake my head in wonder.
I was heading south on the trail at Hampton, Tennesse when I was introduced to Bill and his Seeing Eye Dog, Orient. It was my great privilidge to shake his hand and pat Orient on the head. I told him, "I wish half the people in my life had half your guts, things would be much simpler." He was spending the night with friends and would pick up the trail the next day.
His story is written in "Blind Courage"
Posted by DW at 3:53 PM
The name of this blog is of course Dragon Watch. The dragons of interest are the evil people who make choices that harm others. We must be careful who we call evil. Those who are truly evil extract revenge, because they want their evil to remain a secret, and shedding the light of day on their acts reveals who and what they are. I have no proof of anything, proof would not be a healthy thing in this case.
There is an e-mail circulating that recounts the names of forty seven people associated with the Clinton era who are dead, that's right forty seven. I am not a conspiracy theorist, nor do I think there are death squads or plots to put the Clintons in power. There are many similarities, small plane crashes, murders in robberies, heart attacks, deaths with cause unknown, suicides.
Nine of the list are suicides, eleven were bodyguards, does that raise any questions? In your extended family and circle of acquaintances how many suicides do you know of? Please explain to me in small words how eleven trained men, because no one would use an untrained body guard, wind up dead. I am sure there are some short answers waiting, none I'm likely to believe. I will include the list. I have no knowledge of it's origin, anyone who cares to, take the names and research them. What if there is something we need to know? Has the Democratic party, represented by individuals acting alone, determined that these people are more important than the lives lost, or the crimes committed? Is it possible that this is a pattern that the people within the party deem necessary?
I am fairly certain that people have died for political reasons. I am certain that our representatives at the national level consider themselves to be the elite, the chosen, the anointed of heaven, destined to direct the great unwashed. Do I think they would direct the death of the little people who cause them trouble? Yes, I believe they would, to preserve what they see as their place and the birth right of their children. I'm afraid that one day they will concoct an emergency that will require the suspension of the Constitution, just for the duration. In my lifetime? I hope not. I don't know.
1 - James McDougal - Clinton's convicted Whitewater partner died of an apparent heart attack, while in solitary confinement. He was a key witness in Ken Starr's investigation. 2 - Mary Mahoney - A former White House intern was murdered July 1997 at a Starbucks Coffee Shop in Georgetown. The murder happened just after she was to go public with her story of sexual harassment in the White House. 3 - Vince Foster - Former white House councilor, and colleague of Hillary Clinton at Little Rock's Rose Law firm. Died of a gunshot wound to the head, ruled a suicide. 4 - Ron Brown - Secretary of Commerce and former DNC Chairman. Reported to have died by impact in a plane crash. A pathologist close to the investigation reported that there was a hole in the top of Brown's skull resembling a gunshot wound. At the time of his death Brown was being investigated, and spoke publicly of his willingness to cut a deal with prosecutors. 5 - C. Victor Raiser II and Montgomery Raiser, Major players in the Clinton fund raising organization died in a private plane crash in July1992. 6 - Paul Tulley - Democratic National Committee Political Director found dead in a hotel room in Little Rock, September 1992... Described by Clinton as a "Dear friend and trusted advisor." 7- Ed Willey - Clinton fund raiser, found dead November 1993 deep in the woods in VA of a gunshot wound to the head. Ruled a suicide. Ed Willey died on the same day his wife Kathleen Willey claimed Bill Clinton groped her in the oval office in the White House. Ed Willey was involved in several Clinton fund raising events. 8 - Jerry Parks - Head of Clinton's gubernatorial security team in Little Rock. Gunned down in his car at a deserted intersection outside Little Rock. Park's son said his father was building a dossier on Clinton. He allegedly threatened to reveal this information. After he died the files were mysteriously removed from his house. 9 - James Bunch - Died from a gunshot suicide. It was reported that he had a "Black Book" of people which contained names of influential people who visited prostitutes in Texas and Arkansas. 10 - James Wilson - Was found dead in May 1993 from an apparent hanging suicide. He was reported to have ties to Whitewater. 11- Kathy Ferguson, ex-wife of Arkansas Trooper Danny Ferguson, was found dead in May 1994, in her living room with a gunshot to her head. It was ruled a suicide even though there were several packed suitcases, as if she were going somewhere. Danny Ferguson was aco-defendant along with Bill Clinton in the Paula Jones lawsuit. Kathy Ferguson was a possible corroborating witness for Paula Jones. 12 - Bill Shelton - Arkansas State Trooper and fiancee of Kathy Ferguson. Critical of the suicide ruling of his fiancee, he was found dead in June, 1994 of a gunshot wound also ruled a suicide at the grave site of his fiancee. 13 - Gandy Baugh - Attorney for Clinton's friend Dan Lassater, died by jumping out a window of a tall building January, 1994. His client wasa convicted drug distributor. 14 - Florence Martin - Accountant & sub-contractor for the CIA, was related to the Barry Seal Mena Airport drug smuggling case. He died of three gunshot wounds. 15 - Suzanne Coleman - Reportedly had an affair with Clinton when he was Arkansas Attorney General. Died of a gunshot wound to the back of the head, ruled a suicide. Was pregnant at the time of her death. 16 - Paula Grober - Clinton's speech interpreter for the deaf from 1978until her death December 9, 1992. She died in a one car accident. 17 - Danny Casolaro - Investigative reporter. Investigating Mena Airport and Arkansas Development Finance Authority. He slit his wrists, apparently, in the middle of his investigation. 18 - Paul Wilcher - Attorney investigating corruption at Mena Airport with Casolaro and the 1980 "October Surprise" was found dead on a toilet June 22, 1993 in his Washington DC apartment. Had delivered a report to Janet Reno three weeks before his death. 19 - Jon Parnell Walker - Whitewater investigator for Resolution Trust Corp. Jumped to his death from his Arlington, Virginia apartmentbalcony August15, 1993. He was investigating the Morgan Guarantee scandal. 20 - Barbara Wise - Commerce Department staffer. Worked closely with Ron Brown and John Huang. Cause of death unknown. Died November29, 1996. Her bruised, nude body was found locked in her office atthe Department of Commerce. 21- Charles Meissner - Assistant Secretary of Commerce who gave John Huang special security clearance, died shortly thereafter in a small plane crash. 22 - Dr. Stanley Heard - Chairman of the National Chiropractic Health Care Advisory Committee, died with his attorney Steve Dickson in a small plane crash. Dr. Heard, in addition to serving on Clinton's advisory council personally treated Clinton's mother, stepfather and brother. 23 - Barry Seal - Drug running pilot out of Mena Arkansas, death was no accident. 24 - Johnny Lawhorn Jr. - Mechanic, found a check made out to BillClinton in the trunk of a car left at his repair shop. He was found dead after his car had hit a utility pole. 25 - Stanley Huggins - Investigated Madison Guarantee. His death wasa purported suicide and his report was never released. 26- Hershell Friday - Attorney and Clinton fund raiser died March 1,1994 when his plane exploded. 27 - Kevin Ives and Don Henry - Known as "The boys on the track"case. Reports say the boys may have stumbled upon the Mena Arkansas airport drug operation. A controversial case, the initial report of death said, due to falling asleep on railroad tracks. Later reports claim the two boys had been slain before being placed on the tracks. Many linked to the case died before their testimony could come before a Grand Jury. THE FOLLOWING PERSONS HAD INFORMATION ON THE IVES/HENRY CASE: 28 - Keith Coney - Died when his motorcycle slammed into the back of a truck, July 1988. 29 - Keith McMaskle - Died stabbed 113 times, Nov, 1988 30 - Gregory Collins - Died from a gunshot wound January 1989. 31 - Jeff Rhodes - He was shot, mutilated and found burned in a trash dump in April 1989. 33 - James Milan - Found decapitated. However, the Coroner ruled his death was due to "natural causes." 34 - Jordan Kettleson - Was found shot to death in the front seat of his pickup truck in June 1990. 35 - Richard Winters - A suspect in the Ives / Henry deaths. He waskilled in a set-up robbery July 1989. THE FOLLOWING CLINTON BODYGUARDS ARE DEAD: 36 - Major William S. BarkleyJr.37 - Captain Scott J. Reynolds38 - Sgt. Brian Hanley39 - Sgt. Tim Sabel40 - Major General William Robertson41 - Col. William Densberger42 - Col. Robert Kelly43 - Spec. Gary Rhodes44 - Steve Willis45 - Robert Williams46 - Conway LeBleu47 - Todd McKeehan
I make no accusations, I am very curious.
Posted by DW at 2:07 PM