MarkRhodes.us

Of Splinters and Logs, Stones and Glass Houses

2011-06-25T20:05:00.000+04:30

Today, New York State passed legislation legalizing gay marriage. Or, as it’s now called, “marriage”. For those of you who may not know, I am a card carrying resident of New York State. I also have many friends and people I care about who live in New York State who would self identify as conservative or as Christians; often they’d identify as both. They tend to feel strongly that this was A Bad Thing.

My responses in discussing this issue with them have taken a mildly mocking tone and displayed a certain dismissiveness. I’ve chosen to laugh at their views on gay marriage not out of disrespect, but because I feel those views are in fact laughable. Laughing seems the most appropriate response. To my mind, it’s a bit like responding to a 2 year old’s temper tantrum: From the perspective of the toddler, their anger is real, their feelings have been hurt, their sensibilities violated and they deeply, sincerely feel an injustice has been committed. “What do you mean I can’t get a bag of Skittles from the grocery checkout line? THIS IS SO WRONG!” And then the shit storm begins.

The mature response, however, is not to take their tantrum seriously. Rather, we compassionately identify with their anger and fear, while maintaining a certain bemused distance from their actual complaint. “Aww, it’s ok sweetie”, we might utter quietly while comforting the raging child. We don’t seriously engage them as if they’ve actually been wronged because they didn’t get their way. As an evolved, mature adult, we know better.

This is basically how I see American Christianity’s objections to marriage equality – a juvenile, guttural response rooted in their Id and fueled by ignorance, bad thinking, and flawed argumentation. The people I know – these are family, friends, people I respect and care about, and who care about me – would say they are driven not so much by anti-gay feelings as they are by a sincere desire to be faithful to what they understand to be God’s revealed Word. I believe that they really believe this when they say it. I believe that they honestly are striving to be the best Christians they know how to be, that their opposition to gay marriage is simply a side effect of a sincere Biblical commitment to their faith; they’re not simply practicing rank bigotry. But I also call shenanigans.

The inconsistencies that conservative Christians accept ostensibly in the pursuit of adhering to Biblical values and principles in the matter of condemning gay marriage are staggering. Jesus Himself had 100% more to say on the topic of heterosexual divorce in the Bible than He had to say on homosexuality. Namely, He speaks out once in the Gospels on the topic of divorce (Matthew 19:1-11), and not at all on the topic of homosexuality. Yet American Christians are by and large silent on the matter of divorce in their churches, but speak against homosexuality with vigor and freedom of conscience.

The rate of divorce in American churches mirrors that of the larger population, and this is accepted as an unfortunate fact of life. There are no well meaning Christian therapists arguing that if you just pray enough, divorced couples can get back together and live happily ever after. If we can pray away the gay, then we can pray away divorces, yes? Try telling that to the single, divorced mom sitting down the pew from you. See what kind of response you get.

If we really believe that Christian Scripture is divinely inspired, that it has made its way to us today under the guidance of God Himself through the hands of men inspired by His Spirit, why aren’t Christ’s words on divorce taken to heart the way Paul’s views on homosexuality are? Shouldn’t Christians place more weight on texts attributed to the Son of God Himself than they do to moral guidance from a mere man, inspired prophet or not?

Why doesn’t the Christian community have the same energetic response to divorce that they have to homosexuality and gay marriage? Why don’t churches insist divorced singles stay single and celibate (or remarry the person they divorced) the way churches insist homosexuals must stay single and celibate (or enter into a heterosexual relationship) in order to comply with Biblical teachings? There are divorced singles groups advertised in church bulletins all across America. I don’t know of any gay singles groups being offered in these same churches. Churches treat divorce as the highly personal, complex issue that it is, while applying blanket, stark moral reasoning to issues of sexual orientation.

We don’t we see Christian funded political action committees lobbying to make divorce illegal except in the case of infidelity. There are no groups with names like “Protect American Families” arguing for Federal or state Constitutional amendments outlawing heterosexual divorce. Certainly heterosexual divorce undermines the historical institution of marriage more profoundly than does gay participation. Far more children are deeply wounded by their heterosexual parents divorcing than are harmed by knowing there’s an open lesbian married couple living next door.

I’ll tell you why this is. I don’t think it’s necessarily naked, overt hypocrisy, although there is certainly an element of hypocrisy in it. Rather, I believe it’s because divorce is something that can and does happen to every day Christians. It’s “our sin”, not “their sin”. We all can identify with being so wounded by a person that we love that we find it impossible to carry on in the relationship, infidelity or not. Divorce happens to good, committed Christians that we know and respect; conversely homosexuality is easier to hide and ignore due to its highly personal nature. And so the Christian community is hesitant to take a strong, principled position on divorce consistent with Jesus’ teachings. Christians look at their fellow divorced congregants and very honestly say to themselves, “There but by the grace of God go I.”

Not so with sexual orientation. We can keep homosexuality at a distance. We have trouble identifying with different sexual orientations. It seems so strange, maybe even mysterious! We can’t imagine ever being attracted to a person of the same sex, much less falling in love or having a physical homosexual relationship. Homosexuality is so foreign, so Other, so not a part of our every day life, that it allows us to enthusiastically and uncritically embrace Biblical passages condemning it, while gingerly tip toeing around the passages that clearly apply to our immediate communities.

I’m not suggesting that the solution to this dissonance is for Christians to forcefully and consistently condemn divorce with the same certitude that all things gay are condemned. Not only would that be immoral, it wouldn't be in keeping with the spirit or intent of Jesus’ teachings in the Gospels, and of the overall moral imperatives of the larger New Testament authors. What I would suggest is that the Christian community ought to abandon trite and convenient phrases such as “love the sinner, hate the sin” as a means of coming to terms with the very difficult challenges of fitting a first century Bible informed by a pre-modern Jewish Palestinian world view to a 21^st century world informed by Enlightenment thinking and the scientific method. It’s no small task, and doing that in a deep, meaningful , thoughtful, and loving way takes more energy than “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

Until conservative American Christians writ large start doing the hard work of serious thinking and serious moral reasoning, I don’t feel compelled to treat their objections to modern concepts of morality – or the forms that morality takes - as anything more than the mindless cries of a newborn infant, scared and unhappy that its formerly comfortable word is changing in ways it can’t quite comprehend.

"Why do you look at the splinter in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the log in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from your brother’s eye." ~Matthew 7:3-5

I sure do wish they'd stop being so good to us

2011-02-25T00:29:00.003+04:30

It seems like every time I'm away from my website for any period of time, I return to find Blogger has "improved" their service in such a way that it breaks my website. This time has been, unfortunately, no different.

It's like that scene from Cool Hand Luke; Luke is getting the shit kicked out of him (again) by The Captain, who exclaims "It's for your own good!" Luke replies, "Gee Captain, I sure do wish you'd stop being so good to me."

A one man stimulus package

2011-02-24T22:58:00.009+04:30

One interesting challenge of being suddenly and unexpectedly deployed by the Army Reserve: I have all these Groupons to spend.

You see, thinking that I would be around this summer and funemployed, I began taking advantage of Groupons for my city over the past 6 months in preparation. Now I have 2 weeks to spend them all.

I've got an appointment to have my teeth whitened. I just bought 4 cases of an assortment of wines. I have several dinners to go out to. And $40 worth of assorted beers to purchase and consume. All by the middle of March.

¡Salud!

See, it's funny because wearing that wouldn't do anything for you

2010-07-25T19:30:00.000+04:30

This afternoon I was in the gym using the elliptical machine to cool down after weight training. I look over and there's a guy wearing a weight vest - on the exercise bike.

I wanted to ask him what that was about, but he looked like he was pretty into his workout, so I left him be.

Gym Etiquette

2010-07-24T22:55:00.001+04:30

Ok, really? There's three treadmills to choose from, and you pick the one in the middle? The urinal rule applies here man. I don't want to run next to you if I don't have to.

Story telling

2010-07-23T11:24:00.006+04:30

I've been listening to This American Life and The Moth podcasts all morning. It always leaves me in a story telling mood, expressive in a way I'm not normally able to be . . .

My family had 8-track tapes when I was a kid. I remember that we had a silver 8-track tape player as part of our home stereo, and we had a player in our car. It was mounted under the center console by my father, the multi-colored wiring harness visibly extending from the back of the player and up under the dashboard like some sort of gigantic CB radio with which you could receive but not transmit. We also had a metric fuck ton of 8-track tapes; at least that was my impression. I never really thought about where they came from at the time, but I imagine they were collected from a myriad of garage sales over the years. Maybe from Salvation Army stores, or from the hamfests & flea markets my father would attend. Who knows.

I have peculiarly distinct impressions of the 8-track. The overwhelming physicality of the system. It captures the essence of what analog means! The tapes were bulky, the size of a small paperback. The feeling of sliding the tape into the gaping mouth of the player until the tape popped into place, seating against the magnetic read heads inside the player. The heavy clunk when you would push the gigantic "forward" button to skip to the next track; the weight and spring loaded resistance of that button. The clicks and ticks and clunks of the tape when it was playing and moved to the next track. The warbling of the audio after the tape had been eaten by the player a few too many times.

I remember that we had these cheap black plastic storage racks for our 8-track tapes at home. They held maybe eight or ten tapes each - I don't recall exactly. They were rectangular with slots that you slid the tapes into, ass end first. (If an 8-track could be thought of as having an ass, that would be the end where the tape was exposed.) The label was exposed and extended over the opposite end of the tape so you could see the title & artist as you looked through the racks of tapes - pretty much like the spine on a CD case today. The album art covered the rest of the label, on the flat broad side of the tape (but of course, you couldn't see that when it was in the player, or when the tape was in the black plastic storage rack.)

I remember looking through these tapes as a kid. I was . . . I suppose a small child. I don't know for certain. Younger than ten years, for sure. Looking at the tapes, taking in the album art and reading the titles exposed on the edge of the tapes. I don't much remember which 8-tracks we had. I would guess a lot of classical; both my parents were into classical at that time.

I do remember one name for some reason: Gordon Lightfoot. I don't recall ever listening to that 8-track, or really wanting to listen to it. In fact, I'm thinking about it as I write this and I couldn't list one song he recorded, or recall a single tune I associate with him. I was just affected by the name for some reason. The name "Gordon" had a very earthy feeling for me. I associated it with browns and mustard yellows, with Sesame Street (remember Gordon?), with the whole 1970's aesthetic. And Lightfoot sounded mystical, almost magical. The name conjured up feelings of a hip, stylish, urbane shaman. Black turtle neck sweaters, brown wide collared leather jackets, side burns, Black Power, alongside brightly colored psychedelic trips through outer space, a la the closing scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

There were two albums in particular that I remember actually listening to. A lot. One was an anthology of Beach Boys songs. I *loved* that tape. California Girls, Little Deuce Coupe, Surfer Girl. Thinking of it brings up images of driving in the car on long road trips - probably family summer vacations - my father behind the wheel, me playing that tape over and over and over and over (oh, the patience of a parent when their child discovers something he loves). Sunny days, air whipping through the open car windows, the backs of my thighs sweating against the (blue? green?) vinyl front bench seat. The vinyl cracked from UV damage, exposing the yellowed foam padding underneath. Adventures, new locations, cheap highway restaurants and novel chains we didn't have in western New York. Hardees seemed strange and adventurous then. All this set to a soundtrack of Brian Wilson and harmonies too perfect to contemplate.

The other tape was Pink Floyd's The Wall. There was something in that album that affected me intensely as a child. I was, of course, too young *understand* it. But the tone of the music would wash over me and I would sink into it. I have memories of sitting at home on the hardwood floor in front of the stereo, running my fingers over the latticed doors of the cabinet set in the back left corner of the laundry room (This was where the stereo cabinet was. It wasn't an actual laundry room - the washer and dryer were in the cellar - but it was where we folded the clean laundry. Thus it is, in my childhood memory at least, The Laundry Room.) I remember huge, over the ear headphones with a spiral cord and a thick, 1/4" plug. I put those padded, over-sized RadioShack headphones on and the world would disappear in a sort of delicious sensory deprivation chamber. A distant organ (was it an accordion?) began playing softly in my right ear, and then that gigantic, over powering chord would erupt and away I was dragged. Like an undertow, blessedly drawing me under the water into a sort of all consuming oblivion. Dark, isolated, confined, enveloped and floating in something I was too young to fully comprehend. The Wall was was authentic, it was true. It was *my* truth. It transported me to dark parts of my subconscious that were too dangerous to approach in full daylight. I wore that 8-track out, literally. I remember the day the magnetic tape broke in two while it was playing. The Wall was the very first compact disc I ever purchased as a teenager.

A Beach Boys anthology and Pink Floyd's The Wall. All those 8-tracks, all those years of having them played in my presence, and those two albums are the only two I remember. I think if you knew that about me, that might tell you everything you need to know to understand me.

She travels outside of karma

2010-02-19T21:36:00.005+04:30

Grace . . .
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It can be her name

Grace . . .
It's the name for a girl
It's also a thought that changed the world

And when she walks on the street you can hear the strings
'Cause Grace finds goodness in everything

Grace . . .
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk

She travels outside of karma
She travels outside of karma

And when she goes to work you can hear her strings
'Cause Grace finds beauty in everything

Grace . . .
She carries the world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips between her fingertips

She carries a pearl in perfect condition
What once was hurt, what once was friction
What left a mark no longer stains
Because grace makes beauty out of ugly things
Grace finds beauty in everything
Grace finds goodness in everything

(Grace, originally by U2 - covered here by Nichole Nordeman from the album In The Name of Love)

It's almost February

2010-02-01T17:05:00.003+04:30

And I haven't blogged since what, the middle of January?

Well, not quite as bad as I thought but I suppose I might write something here.

See, here's the thing. I haven't been terribly inspired to write much. Not long form anyway. I post on Facebook (you can find me here if you want) but that's usually just random thoughts that catch my fancy.

So. What's new.

I got new running shoes! Thanks to pops for facilitating the shipping. I highly recommend the NikeID site, very fun. And you can see pics here.
I get to leave country here in just a couple months which, while not quite exciting per se, is something to look forward to. I should be in Germany for a few weeks playing lieutenant then back to the States on vacation. If you want to get together, drop me a note and we'll make plans.
Is it a sign it's time to move on when you start to get regularly aggravated with the people you work with on a regular basis?

So that's life. I've been away from Bagram for several weeks and I'm heading back tomorrow. We'll see what the weather's like.

Two quotes for today

2010-01-12T22:20:00.002+04:30

Quote One, from California: "[O]ne of the arguments that the anti-gay-marriage side has increasingly turned to outside the courtroom is that allowing same-sex marriage would hurt heterosexual marriage. At the pretrial hearing, Judge Walker kept asking Charles Cooper, the lawyer defending Proposition 8, how exactly it did so. “I’m asking you to tell me,” he said at last, “how it would harm opposite-sex marriages.”

“All right,” Cooper said.

“All right,” Walker said. “Let’s play on the same playing field for once.”

There was a pause—it seemed like a long one to people in the courtroom, though it was probably only a few seconds. And Cooper said, “Your Honor, my answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Which confirms my very strong intuition that the animating pathos against same sex marriage is based in simple fear of the unknown, fear of the misunderstood, fear of the Other.

Quote Two, from Degobah: "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

I know that quote gets overused, but it has the virtue of being very true.

2010-01-04T09:18:00.000+04:30

Created by Auto Insurance.org

Phew

2009-12-30T07:25:00.002+04:30

Just got word I don't have to go back south. Sooooo glad. I don't want to be the complaining type, but ugh. Just ugh. It is horrible down south.

The bases and living conditions are just deplorable. I mean seriously, it's bad. I blame the Marines. The rest of the world slowly builds up and improves their facilities over time. The Marines (who are the preponderant force in the south) haven't really improved anything since they arrived 8 years ago. Paving the roads and building actual buildings (versus living out of tents) would be a sign of weakness I suppose.

It's Christmas Eve

2009-12-24T17:09:00.002+04:30

I'm stuck in a FOB I can't stand. I've got equipment that won't work. I've got customers who won't cooperate. And I'm sleeping in a tent with no heat.

*sigh*

I got a nice, hot shower this morning though. And I ate my fill of cashews.

2009-12-09T03:04:00.005+04:30

"Here's an incontrovertible fact: every one of your ancestors survived to reproductive age and got it on at least once with a member of the opposite sex. All the way back to Homo erectus. And even further back to Australopithecus. And even further back to monkeys, to lizards, to the first amphibian that crawled out of the slime, the fish that preceded that amphibian, the worm before the fish and the amoeba that preceded the worm.

And you, YOU, in the year 2009 C.E., the culmination of that miraculously unbroken line of succession, you, Homo sapiens sapiens, not just thinking man but thinking thinking man (or woman), are the only one smart enough to screw the whole thing up.

Perhaps you should consider thinking a little less then.

Because heaven knows that the amoeba, worm, fish, amphibian, monkey and primitive hominids didn't do a whole lot of thinking. Their DNA had a vested interest in perpetuating itself, so it made sure that happened.

Turns out your DNA works the same way, too. And maybe when you're really sloshed at a party and your whole frontal lobe is on vacation in the outer rings of Saturn, you've noticed that your lizard brain knows exactly how to grab that cute girl by the waist for a twirl on the dance floor. Or knows exactly how to arch your back, flip your hair and glance at that handsome hunk just so such that he comes on over to say hi.

To put it plainly, you are programmed to reproduce. Now quit thinking you're smarter than the 3 billion base pairs in your genome and 4 billion years of evolution. Actually, just stop thinking altogether. Let the program do its work."

It was sort of a cliche' article

2009-12-09T03:04:00.004+04:30

. . . but I found this bit amusing:

"Here's an incontrovertible fact: every one of your ancestors survived to reproductive age and got it on at least once with a member of the opposite sex. All the way back to Homo erectus. And even further back to Australopithecus. And even further back to monkeys, to lizards, to the first amphibian that crawled out of the slime, the fish that preceded that amphibian, the worm before the fish and the amoeba that preceded the worm.

And you, YOU, in the year 2009 C.E., the culmination of that miraculously unbroken line of succession, you, Homo sapiens sapiens, not just thinking man but thinking thinking man (or woman), are the only one smart enough to screw the whole thing up.

Perhaps you should consider thinking a little less then.

Because heaven knows that the amoeba, worm, fish, amphibian, monkey and primitive hominids didn't do a whole lot of thinking. Their DNA had a vested interest in perpetuating itself, so it made sure that happened.

Turns out your DNA works the same way, too. And maybe when you're really sloshed at a party and your whole frontal lobe is on vacation in the outer rings of Saturn, you've noticed that your lizard brain knows exactly how to grab that cute girl by the waist for a twirl on the dance floor. Or knows exactly how to arch your back, flip your hair and glance at that handsome hunk just so such that he comes on over to say hi.

To put it plainly, you are programmed to reproduce. Now quit thinking you're smarter than the 3 billion base pairs in your genome and 4 billion years of evolution. Actually, just stop thinking altogether. Let the program do its work."

So yeah, I get it

2009-12-07T09:10:00.004+04:30

It's Saturday Night Live. I know, I know, it's just a skit.

But tell me again why it's ok to make jokes about Tiger Woods getting beaten up by his wife? Would SNL (or the late night comedians) be making jokes if it was Woods who had beaten his wife because she was sleeping around?

I guess we can make jokes because Tiger had it coming to him for his sexy times with those women, right? Or maybe it's because Tiger's a man, and men are supposed to be strong. If he got smacked around by some 120 lb woman, he's a weakling and he deserved the whupping. Right? Isn't that how it works?

It's not just women who suffer under gender discrimination. The patriarchy hurts us all.

Word of the Day

2009-12-04T17:57:00.002+04:30

Heterosexism: Negative attitudes, bias, and discrimination in favor of opposite-sex sexuality and relationships. It can include the presumption that everyone is heterosexual or that opposite-sex attractions and relationships are the norm and therefore superior. People of any sexual orientation can hold such attitudes and bias. Heterosexism as discrimination ranks gay men, lesbians, and bisexuals as second-class citizens with regard to various legal and civil rights, economic opportunities, and social equality.

I've not run into this turn of phrase before, but I like it. It seems to me more precise than ascribing all anti-homosexual attitudes as homophobic. Sometimes we're not motivated by fear - sometimes we're just plain chauvinistic and discriminatory.

Or since the fundamentalists took over the Kansas City school board. Which evs

2009-12-04T02:24:00.002+04:30

21st century neuroticism

2009-11-27T01:19:00.002+04:30

. . .or, How To Spend $75 In Order To Save Money On Your Thanksgiving Turkey, End Up With Two Live Turkeys, And Still Have No Bird For The Actual Dinner.

Musical Poop

2009-11-21T14:06:00.001+04:30

A surprise find today

2009-11-19T22:30:00.008+04:30

Senator Robert Byrd, a one time member of the KKK who voted against the 1964 Civil Rights Act, commenting on why he changed his mind:

I have no idea where he was going with the Constitutional lawer line of thought. No idea at all. I mean, I tried hard to figure out where he might have meant to go. I've got nothing.

That's not why I posted the video though. As I watched Sen. Byrd describe his epiphany regarding his grandson, it struck me that this is exactly how bigotry - bigotry toward race; bigotry toward gender; bigotry toward sexual orientation - is eventually abandoned in our hearts. It's abandoned when we finally, concretely see our own experience in the lives of others. When we're able to identify ourselves in the Other . . . and not until then.

When we're truly compassionate - the origin is Latin, literally to suffer together with, to feel along side of - a fair minded person is forced to conclude that Others are as deserving as we are. To hold someone else to a lesser standard is simply to come down on the side of injustice.

Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

2009-11-19T20:41:00.002+04:30

SOLVE
Originally uploaded by Jeff Cagle

From Ackerman:

"What’s an actual insult to the victims of 9/11 is the idea that America is not strong enough to withstand the blatherings of a mass murderer. For me, the prospect of KSM grandstanding at his trial falls into I-wish-a-motherfucker-would territory. I want to hear how KSM builds a case against America, because everyone will hear how laughably conspiratorial and clownish it is. Think of what a cathartic moment it will be when America sees the face of the man considered to be UBL’s most efficient henchman and he delivers a pitiful harangue to a bank of cameras. No one will be emboldened to do anything but laugh. The only downside will be his inevitable discussion of how CIA operatives tortured him."

It's Friday the 13th y'all

2009-11-13T22:56:00.003+04:30

24.365.Friday the 13th
Originally uploaded by allgoodpeople

Nothing really to blog about today. We've got new charge codes here at work. The Army thinks I need yet another security class (so I can use their computers safely, of course). I ran four miles today pain free for the first time in a long time. Yay gravel roads and mild inclines!

And the Beastie Boys rock.

That's all I have to report.

2009-11-10T18:33:00.003+04:30

Algernon Charles Swinburne
Originally uploaded by cellini31

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no man lives forever,
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

2009-11-10T17:09:00.002+04:30

Veteran's Day. Its one of those nice sentiment kind of holidays but no one expects the day off or overtime pay or anything. It's like Columbus Day, but without the genocidal undertones.

But hey, you guys! Guess what I found out today. DRS counts Veterans Day as an honest to goodness holiday! woot woot!

God bless the military-industrial complex.

Random thoughts

2009-11-09T12:54:00.003+04:30

I've had two flights in 4 days canceled because of "weather". What kind of weather? They never specify. I'm assuming bad weather. I can see the weather though, and it really hasn't been bad. Which is really not the point at all. I assume these helicopter pilots are prepared to fly their machines into a hail of bullets and RPG's if need be, but we get a little rain and suddenly they go all poopie pants and can't handle the stress? *sigh*
Dear Lady At The Embroidery Shop: I try really hard not to stereotype service workers as stupid or lazy or incompetent. I try REALLY hard. But when I step up to the counter and you stare at me like a sheep tripping on Xanax - no hello, no smile, really no expression at all - you make it hard for me. When I decide to start the interaction myself by smiling and saying good morning to you and you still have no visible pulse or response, I start to think you're just bad at your job. When I politely tell you I need to order some name tapes AND YOU STILL JUST LOOK STUPIDLY AT ME WITH NO RESPONSE . . . well, this is the point at which I seriously consider you might be stupid, lazy, incompetent, or all three. When I hand you a ten dollar bill to pay for an eight dollar product, and you have ZERO MONEY IN YOUR CASH REGISTER, and you make change by asking the guy in line behind me if he has change for a ten, this is when you remove any doubts I may have been entertaining. Life is hard Lady At The Embroidery Shop, but it's so much harder when you're stupid. Or incompetent.
So it rained the last two nights and cleared all the crap out of the air in the valley here. Which is good, because breathing this stuff was seriously skeezing me out. The mountains surrounding the base aren't that far away, but I could barely make them out through the brown/grey haze of dust and smog that had collected here in the valley over the last few weeks. Now the skies are clear and the mountains are beautiful - covered with snow and glistening white in the bright, clear sunny skies.

In which I admire creative writing which also makes a good point

2009-11-08T15:05:00.004+04:30

"If there's anything nice that these Town Hall meetings have yielded, it's that we're no longer shocked and disturbed by the fucked up rhetoric plaguing our national debate. . . . These guys are just being ridiculous now."

Gawker, commenting on the current status of the health care reform protesters.

Later in the article they come up with this gem:

"There are thousands of pages in the (health care reform) legislation. Hopefully, there's at least a milli or two in that thing set aside to look into the causes, effects, and ways to prevent important conversation-born at-large jackassery from infecting our country any further. The biggest health care crisis we've experienced in the history of our country is the one we've brought upon ourselves since we started talking about health care: that we, and our conversations about things that should matter, are getting patently stupider every time we have them."

Jackassery. ^_^ God I love the internet.

The Odwalla Superfood Bar

2009-11-07T23:25:00.005+04:30

Odwalla Superfood bar
Originally uploaded by kathyandbrandon

A package full of holiday themed goodies arrived for the EOD battalion from a church earlier this week. Halloween candy, Thanksgiving themed items, other bits and goodies wrapped up like Christmas presents. Very sweet. It warmed the conkles of my heart.

They didn't send much chocolate (I looked), but they did send a metric fuck ton of bars. Chewy granola bars, crunchy granola bars, Laura bars, Cliff bars, meal replacement bars, even diabetes friendly bars. Every possible variation of bar shaped food you could imagine they gathered together and sent over here.

This morning, as I lay in bed reading my book - which, coincidentally, is titled Eater - I availed myself of this church's largess with the bars. After absent mindedly consuming several tasty but unremarkable granola bars, I came to the Odwalla Original Superfood bar. It's a chewy style bar and, in the spirit of Odwalla, is supposed to be all kinds of healthy for you. When I opened the wrapper I had my doubts.

It's a sickly green color. It smelled ok, but it looked a little questionable. I am here to tell you, dear reader, that this thing rocked. OH MY GAWD. So good. There was something there that I couldn't put my finger on until I was almost finished eating it. Here's the secret - it tastes like ice cream. Vanilla ice cream. Don't ask me how they made an off-green-dirty-hipster-non-GMO-chewy-bar taste like ice cream. They did it though.

Congratulations to you Odwalla. I refuse to pay $3.75 for one of your orange juices at Starbucks, but the next time I see one of your Original Superfood bars and I need a snack, you will get strong consideration.

A thought on the overturning of same-sex marriage in Maine

2009-11-06T16:40:00.008+04:30

Abraham Lincoln
Originally uploaded by Believe Collective

"I am not a Know-Nothing. That is certain. How could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of negroes, be in favor of degrading classes of white people? Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that 'all men are created equal.' We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes." When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read 'all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.' When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy."

~Abraham Lincoln, from an 1855 letter to Joshua Speed

Pick your minority group who would be denied equal treatment by a majority of the electorate and Lincoln's thoughts apply. We've seen 31 votes on same sex marriage deny equality under the law to homosexual citizens. We've witnessed the majority of people vote against same-sex marriage repeatedly and they've been wrong every time.

History, I think, will not look kindly on those who would deny any citizen equal treatment under the law. I take comfort in reminding myself that the ignorant and fearful eventually die like the rest of us, and they take their prejudices into their graves with them.

For every action

2009-11-03T14:16:00.007+04:30

11.2.09.Front
Originally uploaded by allgoodpeople

"The Law of Unintended Consequences: the proposition that every undertaking, however well-intentioned, is generally accompanied by unforeseen repercussions that can overshadow the principal endeavor." ~Konrad J. Friedemann

Once upon a time I decided to grow a beard. I started in May, to be exact. It wasn't a planned thing. I've never grown my beard out for this long before and I can't say I set out to grow the longest, bushiest beard I was capable of growing. It just sort of started when I arrived over here in Afghanistan and, not having to shave it for work, I just decided to let it go. Nature took its course from there.

Since this is kind of a new look for me, I thought I would post an update once in a while to my Flickr page. Y'know, to document it for posterity - I can't imagine another life scenario where it'll be socially acceptable to have a beard like this, short of outright retirement or chronic homelessness - and I also thought people who know me might find it amusing to watch the transformation in my appearance as well.

For every decision we make in life though, I suspect there are unintended consequences. This decision - to document my beard - is evidently no different. I have attracted the attention of other . . . people. People that I didn't think about when I started uploading pictures to Flickr. People who are interested in me and my beard.

I thought nothing of it at first when strangers began adding me as a contact on Flickr (adding someone as a contact is the Flickr equivalent of bookmarking their Flickr page). But then I visited the Flickr page of one of the folks who had added me as a contact. What I found was that every other Flickr page this person had saved was of a guy with a beard. All kinds of people were saved in this guy's account. But without fail, they all included pictures of a guy with a beard.

It's just kept going from there. Several other people have added me as a contact, and they're all dudes with lots of pictures of other dudes with beards. I am, evidently, attracting the attention of the online Bear community.

Not that there's anything wrong with that (to borrow a phrase from Seinfeld). But I certainly didn't expect to become a fledgling gay icon to Flickr's community of beard fetishists when this whole project started.

Overheard conversations

2009-11-02T18:15:00.001+04:30

Guy 1: "Hey man, so D.C. is in Maryland?"
Guy 2: "Umm, no man, it's just D.C. I think."
Guy 1: "So it's in Virginia?"
Guy 2: "No, I think it's just called D.C."
Guy 1: "Ok, so where's McFadden's?"

More here.

Flickr days and Flickr nights

2009-11-01T18:25:00.006+04:30

. . . or "Flickr? I barely know her!"

Anyway . . .

I just love having a "gee whiz!" moment. Or in more modern parlance, "How friggin' cool is that?!?!"

I've had some time on my hands these last couple of days, so I've been playing around on Flickr quite a bit to pass the time. Uploading and organizing old photos, taking new photos, experimenting with Photoshop - all kinds of photo and image related activities. Just today though, I discovered a new feature in Flickr. Flickr will link to your blog (and I do mean *your* blog, because it doesn't just work with Blogger. It works with Wordpress and a whole slew of other blogging services) and post your photos from your Flickr page automatically. How friggin' cool is that?!?!?

I've been sort of mildly wishing I could include more photos directly on the main page here, but frankly it's been a pain in the ass to upload photos, then put in thumbnails, do the links, blah blah blah blah blah. Thus, a very text heavy blog. When I blog, that is.

SO . . . you, loyal reader, can expect to see more pictures. Maybe even a video or two, but I'm still working on figuring that feature out. Mind you, you've always been able to see pics over at my Flickr page, sure. But now I'm going to save you having to follow the menus over to your left. You can just see the pics right here, as you read.

No need to thank me. The privilege is thanks enough.

Flickr

2009-11-01T18:13:00.002+04:30

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Flickr updates

2009-10-31T12:15:00.005+04:30

I've been quite busy on Flickr this week:

Since it's Halloween, I dug out some old pictures from a vist to Frankenstein's Castle - yes, that Frankenstein's Castle.
A cruise along the Rhine River from 2001.
A walk through some German gardens
Pics from a day trip to Heidelberg and its castle
A collection of German steins and cukoo clocks from a shopping trip in Mainz
Lastly, I've started a 365 Days Project of my own. The idea is to take one self portrait, every day, for 365 days. Check it out here.

QotD

2009-10-26T06:02:00.000+04:30

"A process cannot be understood by stopping it. Understanding must move with the flow of the process, must join it and flow with it."

In which sympathy cards become ever more specific

2009-10-24T00:49:00.002+04:30

An honest to god miscarriage sympathy card:

"Sorry about that miscarriage. It really sucks, but now you can drink."

2009-10-22T04:06:00.001+04:30

I have a muscle spasm in my right forearm. Right about where they draw blood from. It's quite uncomfortable.

And I tweaked something in my left hip. A muscle, not the joint. My point being that it makes it hard to run. Which is kind of a downer.

Updates and random thoughts

2009-10-19T22:47:00.004+04:30

It's been a little bit since I posted. Not that there isn't anything happening as much as what is happening feels an awful lot like it fits into the category of "more of the same", which is not exactly strong inspiration for creative writing.

BUT . . . I was reminded that some people do actually check this page and would like to find something new here. So here goes.

I suppose the biggest news is that I have been the only FSR (Field Service Rep) in the whole country for a little bit now. In other words, I was the only person in the country to fix the systems I'm assigned to. One of the other FSRs left on a scheduled leave and the other had to leave for a family emergency. No worries though, Mark is on the job! That, and my boss did a pretty good job of shipping in a fill-in pretty quick. But it was still a busy couple weeks until he arrived.

The weather is starting to turn here in Afghanistan. It is raining more. Although frankly that's not saying much. It has gone from not raining at all to raining a little bit. The evenings are cool, almost too cool for me to run comfortably in shorts and a t-shirt. I have been away from Bagram for a couple weeks but I hear reports it is starting to snow there. Fun times! (That was sarcasm, in case you missed it. Although I've spent my entire life in the north east United States, I don't particularly enjoy the cold).

Speaking of being away from Bagram - I've been wearing the same underwear for several days because I've been on the road so long and I ran out of clean drawers. Just sharing. I pick up clean underwear tomorrow morning though, so it's all good. I checked today and nothing has sprouted where it shouldn't.

Halloween is almost here. I'm going as a 19th century psychologist. Or a civil war colonel. I can't decide which I resemble more closely with the beard. (New pics here!) I'm a little sad to be missing out on the holidays this year - I really enjoy celebrating Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas - but it is for a good cause. And last year I had a ton of fun at Halloween with Hugo and Megan, and celebrating Christmas in Nyack. I guess it all evens out over time.

Speaking of evening out - this is admittedly a little stream of consciousness - I recently read an article that figured the following: 50% of an average person's happiness is genetically determined, or influenced if you prefer. Some people are just naturally sunnier, and some people are just naturally more anxious, and some folks are just gloomier. Makes sense. They went on to estimate that 15% or so of a person's happiness is due to circumstances. The rest, the author suggested, is up to our own choices. And that seems about right to me. Decidedly non-scientific but it does have the ring of truth to it.

I took a couple lessons from this. 1) Don't get too excited about good things or too down about the bad things. After the initial event has worn off, we're probably going to return to be just as happy (or unhappy as the case may be) after the event as before. We're wired to be who we are, no sense losing sleep over it. And, 2) that 40% or so sure is an awful lot that's left up to us to choose to be happy or upset about. To quote Shakespeare, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." Perhaps there is wisdom to investing in much quiet reflection and intentionally choosing our path. I guess that's about all I have to say about that.

Bonus points to the first person who can name the play the quote came from. Extra extra bonus points if you can do it without googling it.

2009-10-01T17:01:00.002+04:30

I believe the urban philosophers refer to this as "dropping knowledge". From a reader at The Daily Dish:

"We insist that the only proper and intellectually honest answer to the questions religion attempts to answer is simply 'I do not know.'

In the second paragraph of your reader's email, she concedes that theology has no basis in empirical truth and yet is somehow 'true in every moment of existence.' I would counter that one might as well say, this cannot possibly be true but I feel better for believing it, so I believe it anyway. What kind of honest discussion can take place in that environment? He goes on to ask what counter to the Christian response to theodicy non-Christians would give. The answer, again, is simple: I do not know. The burden of proof, under a hypothetical mode of inquiry, lies with the one doing the hypothesizing. If one wants free reign to believe any old story, just stop pretending to be intellectually honest, drop the pretenses to intellectual inquiry, and say, I believe it because I believe it. There is no arguing with that. But don't expect to be taken seriously."

An Open Letter

2009-09-19T12:46:00.003+04:30

Dear Family/Friends/Co-Workers/Lovers/Anyone Who Finds They Need To Be Able To Relate To Me, Either Now Or Any Time In The Future,

You should read this.

Then you should read this.

If you have any questions, feel free to email me. Please do not, under any circumstances, call to discuss.

Yours In A Spirit Of Mutual Understanding,
Mark Rhodes

Shadow projection

2009-09-15T00:07:00.006+04:30

I’ve been really struggling to try to get my head around the rage and passions displayed by American conservatives over the past two years. To merge my metaphors, my spider sense has been tingling because something smells fishy. Something just doesn't add up. And, being an INTJ, when things don't make sense I have a really hard time letting them go.

First, what we're witnessing isn't really about actual policy or real threats. Bush/Cheney did far, far worse and no one said a thing. NO ONE. We tortured and murdered, started wars, spied on our citizens, ran up deficits, and generally neglected our duties to govern and participate as citizens. Not a peep. We started wars and then blithely accepted the advice that we should go back to the mall and buy tickets to Disneyland. Nothing to see here, just keeping moving along. And we believed it.

I'm not trying to make Obama an angel by contrasting him against the Bush/Cheney bogey man. I just can't make sense of the serene acceptance in the face of proven, documented violations of Conservative values by Bush/Cheney, but Obama shows up and all holy hell breaks loose.

Second, the arguments and protests about what the current administration is trying to do don't even make rational sense, making it hard for me to understand what exactly is everyone so worked up about? I read comments like "Keep your government hands off my Medicare" - made with no apparent irony. Protesters throw around terms like muslim, islamist, socialism, fascism, nazi, and communist like they're all synonymous. What I see happening is a sort of "these terms = bad. Obama = bad. Therefore, all these terms apply to Obama". Is he a communist or a muslim? He can't be both, because communists are pretty vehimently athiest. Is he a fascist or a socialist? Again, can't be both because the two groups have historically fought like cats and dogs. Literally, fighting in the streets of London. I'm surprised - honestly, really surprised - no one has brought out a sign calling Obama a necrophiliac goat fucker.

My experience tells me that when people get THAT upset, THAT unhinged about something, when there is THAT much hyperbole, there is something more fundamental at play than the thing they are explicitly upset about. I've seen it all my life in my day to day relationships and my family dynamic growing up. This isn’t really about socialism or death panels. This isn't about saving the country from foreign influences or mortgaging our grand kids' futures (all valid concerns, I might add. Well, all except for the death panels). I just haven’t been able to get a good handle on what is really going on.

I’ve been slowly gravitating towards the idea that maybe the fundamental emotional issue at play here really is racism. This is an idea I’ve been resistant to for a couple of reasons. First, it’s 2009 and I frankly have had a hard time accepting that even today there is this kind of vicious, guttural, wide spread response based simply on race. But after seeing example after example of open, naked racist slurs by various Republican leaders over the past year that, after the offender was called to the carpet for it, was dismissed with “Oh, I was just joking” and the ever popular “If I offended anyone, I’m sincerely sorry”, the evidence for racism playing a roll has become more and more unavoidable to me. Second, being a white male, I have to admit that I just don't experience race the same way some others experience race day to day in their lives. I generally don't have to deal with racism directed towards me, and so this probably makes me slower to identify it than someone who is on the receiving end of racism on a more regular basis. This can be good I suppose, because it keeps me from knee-jerk racism accusations. It can be a hindrance as well, since I may not recognize racism when it really is a factor to be accounted for.

So . . . all this as a frame to share this next bit. An anonymous commenter made the following observation about all the hair pulling and histrionics on the right and I thought they might be onto something. Maybe all this really isn't fundamentally about race after all:

A common meme on the left is that racism is driving the hatred of Obama. I think the root is deeper and scarier: it is shadow projection.

Our ego wants to believe we are wonderful, and so cannot tolerate evidence to the Obama-joker contrary. Consider America. As good as we are, we have a dark side and our actions often have dark consequences. We are large and cast a large shadow. If we were a more mature people we would simply own our dark side, integrate it into part of our self knowledge, and act accordingly. However American mythology says that we are the good country, and to maintain that the pure version of that belief, we are willfully ignorant of our faults. In the minds of many “patriotic” Americans, we have no dark side. Unwilling to own our dark side, we project our shadow onto others.

The Cold War gave us a long period as “the good country” as the Soviet Union gave us a steady (and objectively evil) force onto which we could project our shadow. After the fall of communism we finally found Saddam Hussein to play that role, which clouded our perceptions of the real Saddam (and again, he was objectively evil). Since the Iraq war we’ve looked for a new target onto which to project our shadow. Perennial candidates China, North Korea, and Iran don’t quite suit our needs, and “the terrorists” finally wore thin. I have wondered who our next victim would be. Now we know.

It is Obama.

The right is projecting its shadow onto Obama. The same qualities that make him a saint to the left make him the devil to the right - he is easy to project onto.

That is why he is the out of control spender when they sat on their hands through all of Bush's malfeasance. That is why his talking to schoolchildren is dangerous when our government wiretapping its citizens wasn’t. That is why saving the financial system from years of Republican regulation is taking away our future. The more evil revealed about the right’s excesses on torture, or wars of choice, or nearly destroying the economy, the more evil Obama will look in their eyes, as they cannot tolerate owning responsibility, because in their own minds they are only good.

That is why he is the Fascist/Communist/Socialist/Muslim… that is the list of our shadow projections over the last 60 years. In their minds he is now the USSR ("my grandchildren will have to stand in line for toilet paper!") or even the Anti-Christ. The Obama they see is a projection of their own psyche, not that actual man in the White House. Missing birth certificates, death panels, indoctrinating children, these are all the projections running in their own heads, not things happening in the real world.

Racism makes Obama the Other, but shadow projection is an even more powerful (if interrelated) force than simple racism, and it is very susceptible to the mob mentality – think Goldberg (ed. I think he means Goldstein) in Orwell’s 1984. This will not end well. Now that Obama is carrying their shadow, only a dramatic event from outside could change it. (Or, they could gain awareness of their disowned dark side, and tolerating the inevitable pain of that experience, integrate into a healthy whole. This would require white, middle-class, middle-aged Americans - the primary protesters - to acknowledge that white middle class Americans are not all goodness and light and start taking responsibility for white privilege, their environmental choices, effects of class on economic status, etc. Don’t hold your breath.) The more those on the right deny their own failings, the more their internal unease will increase, the more the hatred to Obama will grow, and the more the need to do something will increase.

No wonder the far right is going bat shit crazy. In the movie playing in their minds, the enemy is within the gates.

I'm not sure how I feel about this writer's theory, but I have to admit it holds a strong resonance. The most appealing aspect is that it seems to recognize racism but places it in what seems an appropriate context. It isn't the ONLY factor, but IT IS a factor, and ultimately he/she places the fundamental motivating factor within a much more universal human behavior.

Thoughts or comments? I know this post is long and "reading is hard", but if you have a thoughtful insight I would love to hear it.

Music for a restless night

2009-09-14T01:08:00.005+04:30

Well I've been out walking
I don't do that much talking these days
These days . . .
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do for you
And all the times I had the chance to

Well I had a lover
I don't think I'll risk another these days
These days . . .
These days I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
Well it's just that I have been losing so long

These days I sit on the corner stones
Count the time in quarter tones 'till ten
My friend . . .
And now I believe I've come to see myself again

These days I sit on the corner stones
Count the time in quarter tones 'till ten
My friend . . .
Please don't confront me with my failures
I'm aware of them

I'm afraid it really is that predictible

2009-09-07T02:28:00.002+04:30

So I was link surfing today and came across these two gems:

Stuff Christians Like

Stuff Christian Culture Likes

Both these blogs are in the spirit of the now classic Stuff White People Like, which pokes fun at white American culture. In the same vein, these two blogs take aim at some of the, um . . . idiosyncrasies of American Christian culture. Mostly protestant culture. Frequently Evangelical culture (and its habit of taking whatever is trendy in the larger secular culture and creating a Christian version palatable to delicate Evangelical sensibilities).

Stuffchristianslike.com is a little lighter in tone and seems to be written by an American Christian who's poking fun at himself and the world he travels in. Stuffchristianculturelikes.com is definitely sharper in its critique (without being mean spirited IMO). And it has more pictures.

Having grown up in an Evangelical church during the early nineties - the early part of the emergence of Evangelicalism as a mass movement in America - much of the skewering rings very, very true. I found both blogs funny and insightful. Then again, American Evangelicalism is a pretty easy target critique.

As I've been browsing through the various posts on both blogs I keep recalling a quote from 19th century Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard: "Church is the place a good man goes to make his last stand against God."

Peaches and Nectarines

2009-09-05T14:52:00.002+04:30

The DFAC had set out fresh peaches and fresh nectarines at lunch today. I took one of each, since I hadn't enjoyed either in recent memory.

Looking at the two fruits, it got me thinking - what exactly is the difference between a peach and a nectarine? Turns out it's the exact same fruit, with a recessive gene determining whether it's fuzzy or smooth. Who knew?

Creationism as idolatry?

2009-09-05T14:45:00.002+04:30

"I wonder if you've heard of epicycles. Epicycles were invented by the faithful to account for astronomical observations not in keeping with geocentrism. The inventors "knew" the Earth was the center of the Universe. But more and more observations indicated otherwise. Instead of reevaluating their basic assumption, they invented epicycles to account for inconsistencies.

You're right: there's nothing about evolutionary science that disproves it was God's plan all along for humanity to come into existence through an evolutionary process. But to embrace that notion in the face of Evolution's credence over reevaluation of your initial assumption -- God exists and he willed us into existence -- is just epicycling." ~anonymous commenter

New pics

2009-09-03T16:08:00.003+04:30

From a couple trips through north eastern Afghanistan.

QotD

2009-08-30T15:42:00.000+04:30

"You see, one thing is, I can live with doubt, and uncertainty, and not knowing. I think it’s much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong. I have approximate answers and possible beliefs and different degrees of certainty about different things. But I’m not absolutely sure of anything, and there are many things I don’t know anything about, such as whether it means anything to ask why we’re here, and what the question might mean. I might think about it a little bit; if I can’t figure it out, then I go onto something else. But I don’t have to know an answer. I don’t feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in the mysterious universe without having any purpose, which is the way it really is, as far as I can tell — possibly. It doesn’t frighten me." ~Richard Feynman

Update

2009-08-29T15:49:00.004+04:30

I find myself posting more to Facebook these days than on here. Most of what I post is just random links, funny websites, interesting articles that I want to share. Facebook makes it soooo easy to throw up a quick link or share a fast joke here and there. But a few recurring thoughts:

There is a wonderful blog I've been following called Moneyless World. It is written by a man out in the American Southwest who has chosen pursue a lifestyle in which he uses zero money. There is an astounding authenticity and humility in his writing that I find really very challenging. He had a wonderful thought in his most reecent post: "This (living in rugged conditions) all exacerbated my bouts of chronic fatigue. Yeah, bouts of extreme fatigue have been my little trial for decades (& living moneyless hasn't made it magically disappear). But it's my Teacher, & teachers stick around until our lesson is done."
I've been traveling here and there recently. More in the northern part of Afghanistan. I may be moving to a new FOB in the coming months, we'll see. I'm not particularly looking forward to it because, well, moving sucks. I don't care if it's an entire house or a small room in a B Hut. It sucks.
I realized the other day that it's almost September. Wow! September already! How the time flies. I am hopeful that the time continues to fly and some of my thoughts - which I will keep to myself for the time being - continue to come together into a coherent plan.

So, I suppose that's all for now. Enjoy the start of the new school year everyone!

The Crazy Tree Blooms Perpetually

2009-08-18T20:56:00.001+04:30

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time."

In American, Crazy is a Preexisting Condition

Just what's happening

2009-08-13T23:13:00.003+04:30

I've been staying at Jalalabad Airfield for several days awaiting a connecting flight to another small FOB - it might even qualify as a COB (combat operating base) - in order to deliver a VSAT system to a group of infantry men in preparation for the elections. It's a nice enough base, as most airfields in Afghanistan seem to be. In order for an installation to qualify as an airfield, it typically requires a fair ammount of support structure and personnel which also brings along with it a higher degree of development and better facilities.

There is a road which runs around the air strip here which I have found to be a great running route while I wait to fly out. The challenge, I have discovered, is not the length of the road (it's only 3.5 miles around), but the weather here at JAF. The elevation is several thousand feet lower than what I've become accustomed to at BAF, and it is significantly hotter and far more humid. I ran on Tuesday afternoon without understanding the just how hot is here, and discovered upon my return to the EOD building that it was 134 degrees Fahrenheit. Running in the evening, as I did tonight in deference to the heat, doesn't help much. I started my route around the airfield after it was dark. When I returned to the building at 9:30 pm I found it was 101 degrees.

The heat isn't so much of a problem for running. I just drink extra water and slow down a little bit. The real issue is I sweat buckets. It's no fun running when everything is wet and clingy and drippy. My hands are so wet after about a mile that I can barely hold onto my iPod.

So here I sit, waiting to fly along to other locales. I will share the story when I get back because it's actually kind of funny.

QotD

2009-08-10T19:49:00.002+04:30

"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls, drop by drop, upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of god." ~Aeschylus

In case you were wondering

2009-08-09T15:28:00.001+04:30

When a fighter jet buzzes directly over your head at less than 100 ft - it's really loud. Really, really loud.

Requiem for a Goldfish

2009-08-06T19:59:00.003+04:30

Buddy the Fish died today in Miami, OK. His exact age was unknown, but it is believed he was approximately 5 years old.

I first met Buddy in 2004 at a coffee house in Rochester, NY. Each table at the coffee house had a goldfish in a mason jar as a center piece. At the end of the evening we were invited to reach under our chairs. Those who found a small baggy of fish food taped to the underside of their chair were invited to take the goldfish at their table home with them. I happened to be sitting on just such a chair. Little did I know how my life would be unexpectedly blessed by my golden scaled friend in the years ahead.

I had not had a goldfish in many years, and I was completely unprepared to welcome Buddy into my home. He spent several more days in his mason jar at my apartment, until I could find a pet store which had a proper goldfish bowl for him. Buddy showed early signs of his spunky personality when, as I was transferring him into his new bowl, he squiggled the wrong way and shot down the kitchen drain and into the food disposal. I stuck my hand down the disposal and spent several minutes trying to get a grip on his slippery, wriggling body before I was finally able to dig him out of the disposal and place him in his new home. Ah Buddy, you were a lively one!

Buddy loved movies (he would often swim to the edge of his bowl and stay there anytime a movie was on). He would often swim to the top of the bowl and blow bubbles at you if you came by to have a conversation with him. And he could swim backwards.

He is survived by two cats, two pugs, and a beta fish. He was a good goldfish, and he will be missed.

Flickr pics

2009-08-01T23:47:00.001+04:30

I was bored tonight. I decided to keep a running account of my beard.

New Flickr pics

2009-07-30T19:22:00.001+04:30

Here and here.

It all makes sense now

2009-07-29T14:29:00.002+04:30

Prof. Gates and the cop who arrested him, James Crowley are both descended from the same 4th century Irish warlord.

I don't think this is the first time two Irish relatives got into a pissing match and neither would back down.

Who knew?

2009-07-27T20:45:00.002+04:30

People actually do this? I mean, seriously? I am so out of touch with urban culture (the man says as he sits in the middle of a rural valley in eastern Afghanistan.)

The final word on Dr. Gates

2009-07-27T20:04:00.003+04:30

Andrew Sullivan, as usual, is spot on.

Bonus points for using the word "vituperatively".

Too many Gates

2009-07-26T11:59:00.002+04:30

I'm a bit of a new junky. I've noticed lately that there are just a slew of stories floating around all featuring someone named Gates. Frankly, it's confusing.

There is of course Bill Gates of Microsoft fame (who most recently has sought to save us from hurricanes.) There is the Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates (who most recently has been in the news for canceling the F-22 Raptor fighter project). Now there's this Harvard professor, Henry Gates, who found himself arrested after trying to break into his own house.

Every headline just refers to "Gates". I never know which guy they're talking about anymore.

Far from the lights of cities

2009-07-15T22:10:00.003+04:30

I've been stuck at FOB Gardez for several days now. Which means little to me geographically, and even less to you I imagine. I just get on a helicopter at Bagram and when they tell me to get off I get off. In between, I listen to NPR podcasts on my iPod to pass the time.

Regardless of where Gardez is on the map, I can tell you it's in the middle of NO WHERE. Which makes for a striking night sky. No light pollution from surrounding cities - there are no cities here, at least none that have night time lighting - and clear, desert skies every night. The stars are brilliant and clear; the Milky Way stretches across the sky from one end of the horizon to the other.

When I step outside at night I find myself imagining what it must have been like for people in primitive times to look up every night and see this sky. No framework for understanding what they see, no way to understand why it goes dark every night and these pinpoints of white light appear in the sky.

The sky looks - actually, it feels - enormous. The blackness on the ground is complete, especially when there is no moon. The only sensory input for my eyes are the stars. There is nothing else to be seen, and as a result I'm almost compulsively driven to look up into the night sky and at the stars, if for no other reason than to be able to see something.

I also find myself imagining the sounds that must have accompanied a pitch black night. Even in the dark here on the FOB I'm aware that I'm surrounded by walls and the silence is broken periodically as I walk past diesel powered generators. But I can still hear the howl and bark of wild dogs somewhere out beyond the walls of the FOB. In the dark, with an acute sense of the openness surrounding you and the imagination running free, I can understand how the proverbial stories-of-things-that-go-bump-in-the-night started.

It's really quite beautiful here.

The Sarah Palin circus in a nutshell

2009-07-06T17:57:00.001+04:30

This is without question the most cogent, even handed treatment of Palin I've come across. I think I'm going to have to start following this Marc Ambinder's blog.

New pics

2009-07-04T22:44:00.001+04:30

The flight this morning was over booked, so I ended up riding up in the cockpit of the Chinook. Pictures from out the front windshield.

Not a creature was stirring

2009-07-04T22:27:00.002+04:30

Except the small mouse that somehow ended up in my empty trash can in my room.

The alarm went off at an ungodly hour so I could catch my helo flight. I wasn't quite ready to get up. I laid back down and drifted off into a pseudo-sleep, when I drowsily registered a repetitious thumping sound. I thought it must be my neighbor getting up and getting dressed. But then I realized, as I came out of my half-sleep state, that the thumping and bumping kept repeating itself. Surely it couldn't be taking him that long to get his boots on.

I got up to get dressed, and the thumping and bumping began again. This time I realized it wasn't my neighbor - it was coming from my trash can. I peered into the empty bin and what did I find but a small field mouse! The thumping sounds were of him trying to jump back out of the can that he had somehow found his way into.

Why was this mouse in my room? Why was he in my empty trash bin? How did he get himself into my empty trash bin to begin with? "Meh, it's too early to ponder such things." I took the bin (with the mouse still in it) and released my uninvited guest into a sewer ditch being dug across the road. I didn't want to kill him, but I didn't want him coming back to my room either.

In Which the Author Places 33 People Into a List of the 20 People Responsible for the Economic Meltdown

2009-06-29T19:10:00.004+04:30

Interesting list, none the less.

I found a new blog

2009-06-29T16:07:00.003+04:30

And I've been enjoying it as I pass the time this afternoon. It is called Secular Right, which I imagine is a play off the frequently invoked title of religious right. Either that, or they're making a statement about the rightness of a secular world view as opposed to a basically religious world view. From reading the posts I'm inclined towards the former.

Anyway, I thought I would share a quote from one post pondering the relative merits of a humanist vs. revelationist world view (I'm not at all sure revelationist is a word. If not, I'm coining it here):

"Conservatives who argue that the secular striving for human progress and knowledge is a poor substitute for “the ‘I am’ of Jesus,” as Benson terms it, are making a worthy argument that deserves respect and close attention. Perhaps they are ultimately right. Yet I confess that sometimes they strike me—perhaps unfairly and ignorantly–just a little bit like liberals who rail against corporations, bankers, and entrepreneurs, while benefiting from the risk-taking and drive of such suspect capitalists at every minute of their lives."

I wore a hat in the shower today, and I liked it

2009-06-27T14:42:00.003+04:30

Which you might think requires some explanation. Here it is:

I often wear a hat when I work out. Well, often isn't really the right word. Always is probably closer to the reality, but resorting to absolutes causes such problems in life, doesn't it? But I digress.

I wear a hat when exercising because I shave my head (look up and to the left on the screen, you'll see what I'm talking about). When I sweat - which often happens when I work out - all the sweat goes in my eyes due to the lack of hair on my head to soak up my perspiration. A hat serves to absorb my sweat and keep it from running into my eyes and everywhere else. Let me tell you, it's a good system.

So what happens to this sweat soaked ball cap, you might be asking yourself? Surprisingly enough, it does not smell. It maintains a remarkably neutral odor even after many workouts. But it does get crusted with salt which, while it doesn't bother me so much, can be a visual cue of it's extensive use as a workout hat and it's lack of recent cleaning. And I worry this is off putting for others. A violation of some unspoken social contract between exercisers.

Anyway, I periodically take care of this by running my exercise hat through with a load of wash. I can't do this over here in Afghanistan though, because it takes three days to get my clothes back from the laundry service. The hat really needed some attention today, so I thought "Why not just wear it in the shower? Get it good and wet, scrub it down, wring it out and let it air dry." So I did.

Can I tell you, I really liked wearing a ball cap while showering! This is the note worthy discovery prompting this blog post. The bill keeps the shower water from running in my face, which is really a wonderful thing. I never realized how much I disliked having water in my face while I shower, but it's a little stressful for me evidently. I think if I were ever tortured, water boarding would be the way to go for my captors. I really, really dislike windy, snowy days when the snow is blowing in my face and eyes as well. So it's consistent.

I don't think I'm going to make a habit of wearing a ball cap in the shower. I think this might violate another unspoken social contract (i.e. Normal People Don't Wear Their Clothes While Showering), and frankly the thought of having to explain myself to anyone who noticed is exhausting.

But when my exercise hat does need cleaning, taking it in the shower with me is the way to go from now on.

FOB Warrior

2009-06-22T16:01:00.000+04:30

Pics from my latest trip to FOB Warrior.

New pics

2009-06-21T20:00:00.002+04:30

Uploaded to Flickr (including commentary). Bagram Air Field and a trip to FOB Sharana.

"Do you have body armor with you?"

2009-06-17T19:36:00.002+04:30

. . . the Captain asked casually as he turned to leave the EOD building. "Because we wear our gear here from 1700 until dark. They usually rocket us right around 1800 every day, so just make sure you have your gear handy."

The locals were evidently running a little late, but more or less as the sun was setting came the whistle and "BOOM!!" of a rocket attack. Two rockets in all, but no one was hurt.

As for me, after more than a year in the Southwest Asia and participating in two wars, this was my first real "attack" - if you can call a couple of long-distance-hail-mary-pop-shots an attack.

FOB hopping

2009-06-17T12:51:00.002+04:30

I was up at 3 am this morning to catch a flight to another FOB - Forward Operating Base - to fix a problem with viruses on their computers (yep, even in Afghanistan it's the same computer problems as everywhere else).

The ride was quite long, as it was a Chinook helicopter rather than a fixed wing plane. The Chinook stopped several times along the way, visiting various other FOBs, refueling, dropping off passengers and picking up new folks. At each stop I would ask if this was my stop. "Nope, we'll make sure you get off at the right FOB" the crew chief assured me.

Around noon we finally arrived at my destination. I climbed out the back of the Chinook, walked off the DZ and noticed there were no Americans. A few Afghanis, a lot of Polish military, and civilians who looked American (but it's hard to tell with civilians - there's a lot of foreign nationals working over here as civilian contractors.)

I stopped and asked one of the (maybe) American contractors where the EOD building was. Thankfully he knew. However, when I walked into their compound I found the building empty. Evidently they're away from the FOB on a mission.

I walked over to the DFAC to get some lunch and finally found an American solider. He told me there were maybe a dozen American military here and they were all gone off site. So here I sit in the EOD building waiting for the EOD team to get back.

Just a stream of consciousness

2009-06-13T14:40:00.003+04:30

I haven't blogged much lately. Mostly because there hasn't been much of note to blog about.

I wake up most mornings and either go for a run (6.5 miles the other day!) or hit the gym to lift some weights. Shower, then head to work for the day. That's my day seven days a week. I'm not complaining as I enjoy the work and the free time to exercise. But frankly it doesn't make for very exciting blogging.

I am finding that I really enjoy the slower pace of life over here. I don't miss many of the distractions that exist stateside, and it has given me cause to reevaluate some of the things I have chosen to include in my lifestyle stateside previously. I think on my return to the States it will be time to take a hard look at what I choose to include in my lifestyle - disconnect, un-distract myself, and focus on things that get me what is really important to me.

I flew back to BAF (Bagram Airfield) late last night - well, early this morning - on a C130 cargo plane. I had the whole plane to myself. Let me tell you, that is a large plane to be the only passenger in, other than the crew. All I could think was how much the government was spending to fly a C130 with one passenger and his gear from FOB to FOB. Then again, the plane was probably delivering gear to the FOB I started at and had to go to BAF anyway, so I just hitched a ride.

I have to move to a new room today. Tonight is pizza night with the battalion I work with (Pizza Hut personal supreme pizza, in case you're wondering what I ordered). I dropped my laundry off to be cleaned, and picked up the bag of laundry I had waiting for me. I was hesitant at first to use the laundry service here as I was afraid they would lose my clothes, but they do a really good job. And they fold it for me. Which is huge. I think I would definitely pay to have my clothes washed and folded for me in the States. It is perhaps my absolute least favorite chore, folding clothes.

I suppose that's all! I have pictures, but uploading them to Flickr is tough because of the restrictions on the government networks here. But I will manage to get them up eventually.

On Running

2009-06-03T21:44:00.001+04:30

A great article on running that captured my feelings about the activity perfectly. Money quote:

"Anyone can do running. Running should be easy. It should be fun. It should include everyone. It shouldn't be a punishment for eating cheesecake, which is what we've turned it into. There's this kind of war on running — people keep telling you you'll get hurt, get injured, that you need orthotics, that you need go to a special running store before you try it. There's this totally misconceived notion that it's hard to do, and it's not."

On the road

2009-06-01T16:55:00.002+04:30

I have been trying to travel to another FOB for the past week without luck. This morning I was finally able to get on a plane and travel (and even that wasn't without drama, but that's not a story for right now). It was a little rotary wing puddle jumper, the kind of plane you might expect to see ferrying adventure tourists around remote South American jungles. I almost expected to look in the back and find wire crates full of chickens.

Actually, all the messages on the interior of the plane were in Spanish. The "No Fumar" sign was lit the entire flight. No door on the cock pit, and you had to duck your head climbing in and out of the plane. It had 12 raggedy seats and the rest of the space was filled with mail for the FOB we were flying to. I think the main reason for the flight was to deliver mail, and the couple of soldiers who were on the plane were just tagging along.

The flight over the Afghan countryside was quite beautiful. My camera, unfortunately, was in my body armor which was loaded with the other cargo in the back of the plane. From what I've seen of the region from the air it seems to be a series of green, settled valleys nestled between long, barren sandy mountain ridges. Frankly I'm not sure how they grow anything as there doesn't seem to be any water. Settled areas are clearly marked though, as there is a distinct line between the desert and cultivated farm land.

Now that I've finally made it to this FOB what do I find? The people I'm supposed to be working with here are all gone on missions! All this trouble to get a flight and no one is here anyway. *sigh* Turns out though that this particular EOD group has to move their workspace to another building tomorrow, which means tearing down and reinstalling their VSAT system. My arrival seems fortuitous then, as they have no idea how to set up the VSAT system. I can at least make myself helpful by helping them get their office moved and coms working again.

There is a big, nasty dust storm raging outside as I type this. This is the first dust storm I've run into in Afghanistan, and it is nasty. Much worse than the storms I experienced in Iraq. Here there is a strong head wind and the sand is blown in your face and eyes as you try to get from building to building. In Iraq I found the storms to be more like a fog - except instead of being enveloped in clouds the air was full of dust.

What I did today

2009-05-27T21:38:00.004+04:30

0500 - Wake up, thinking it's actually 0600. Take a shower and get dressed.

0600 - Realize I've been up for an hour and it's only 0600. Wonder what happened. Go eat breakfast.

0800 - Throw my gear on the back of the staff duty truck - along with Dave, my coworker - and drive the half mile to the terminal at the airfield to catch our flight.

0830 - Watch as Dave is informed we have to have our passports with us (really?) before they will let us fly to another FOB in Afghanistan.

0835 - Some guy at the flight desk is very sympathetic, but no we cannot fly without passports. He promises to hold our seats on the flight so we can run and get our passports.

0900 - Arrive back at the terminal after speed walking a half mile back to our living quarters, getting our documents, and walking the half mile back to the terminal. Previously mentioned Sympathetic Gentleman informs us he gave our seats away anyway.

0915 - Dave manages to finagle his way onto the flight in spite of the Sympathetic Gentleman. I am left to try to catch a different flight later that afternoon. I walk the half mile back to the living area to wait until that time.

1000 - Walk the half mile back to the same area and squeeze in a workout since I now have a few hours to kill.

1200 - Finish lifting weights. Walk the half mile back to my living area to shower and get ready to leave again.

1530 - Walk the half mile back to the terminal in order to be present at boarding time and hope to catch an open seat (called flying space available, or space A).

1700 - Terminal finally announces there are only 4 open seats. I am number 57 on the list. Walk a half mile back to the chow hall for dinner, and wait to return to the terminal to maybe catch the late flight.

1900 - Walk back to the terminal (again, a half mile) to be told that a) the flight has been weather delayed, and b) there are only 8 open seats. I am still number 57 on the list.

1915 - Walk that same damned half mile back to my room for the last time today.

The Fallen Comrade Ceremony

2009-05-27T14:18:00.004+04:30

I was just finishing up showering after my morning run yesterday when I heard the deep THUD that I've come to know as a large explosion off in the distance. I was unsure what it was exactly - could be old munitions being detonated, could be training, could be an IED. Really it could be anything. Whatever it was it was big. I thought to myself, "I hope no one was hurt" and finished drying off and dressing.

When I arrived at the office for work I discovered it was indeed an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) that had been used to attack an American convoy about 8 km - approximately 4 miles - outside of the air field. Later I would learn that 3 Airmen were killed in the attack. That evening the entire base shut down to honor the people who had died in the attack. It's called the Fallen Comarade ceremony.

To explain: There is a long, main road (Route Disney, named after another soldier who died in Afghanistan, not the media company) that runs the length of Bagram Air Field. At one end of this road is the facility for Mortuary Affairs where the bodies of soldiers who have been killed in theater are processed. At the other end of Route Disney is the entrance to the air field where the bodies would be loaded onto transport to be flown back to the United States.

At the designated time a call was put out over the loud speaker system for everyone to stop whatever they're doing, come out of their offices or their rooms, and line up along both sides of Route Disney. Thousands of military and civilian personnel waited silently for the bodies to be ceremonially transported from Mortuary Affairs to the air field.

First, several SUV's drove slowly past with insignia indicating they were occupied by two and three star generals. I could only see the grim expressions on the faces of the drivers from where I stood, but I would assume these vehicles were occupied by the senior Commanders on Bagram. The military personnel present came to attention and saluted as per tradition as the generals drove past.

Several minutes later came the main body of the procession carrying the dead Airmen from that morning. First came a plain white pickup truck with blue lights flashing from the roof, pacing the convoy of vehicles. This lead truck was followed by three humvees with six Airmen visible in each, seated at attention in the open bed of each humvee. When the convoy passed, those assembled along the street came to attention again and saluted while these three humvees slowly drove past. As the vehicles passed I could see that it was not just the Airmen seated in the back, but also three flag draped coffins to be flown back to the United States - the seated Airmen were escorting their fallen comrades, watching over their coffins on the slow drive to the air field. Lastly came a fourth humvee with a tripod and video camera set up in the bed, documenting the procession from Mortuary Affairs to the air field.

When the last vehicle had passed, the people assembled along the road simply dropped their salute or lowered their hand from their heart and slowly, quietly returned to whatever their place of duty was for the remainder of the evening. All I could think of when I returned to the office was that it was May 26th. We had just observed Memorial Day the previous day.

Things I Saw Today

2009-05-24T13:05:00.003+04:30

I went running this morning. Here are some of the things I saw:

Poppy plants growing along the fence line of the airfield. I found it amusing to be running on a US Military post while past poppy plants growing on both sides of the fence line. I did a little research on Wikipedia and evidently there are hundreds of species of poppy plant, so I am guessing they're probably not opium poppies. Which I have to admit is a disappointment.
An unmanned Predator drone landing. The thing is creepy. I don't know how else to describe it.

2009-05-23T21:57:00.002+04:30

A long day of imaging drives and configuring IP addresses - and PT, don't forget the PT.

G'nite!

New pictures

2009-05-21T10:48:00.002+04:30

Uploaded to Flickr. Pictures (with narration) of my travels from the US to Afghanistan.

So much for that idea

2009-05-18T22:20:00.002+04:30

I've been exploring some of the options for getting online around here. There are a couple of MWR (Moral, Welfare and Recreation) buildings with free wifi, but as you might expect the bandwidth is pretty congested. I am having difficulty just getting in to Blogger to post this update, much less try to upload video and pictures. So the video updates may not work out as planned.

It's been ok though. A slow day, which I needed to get acclimated. The elevation is several thousand feet higher than New York State, which I think is starting to affect me. Of course, my sleep schedule is all messed up too.

(OMG they just started singing karaoke in the other room. Loudly. I have to go now.)

In the wee hours of the morning

2009-05-18T05:00:00.000+04:30

I woke up at 2 am. I still felt groggy and wanted to sleep more, but between my mind racing with thoughts and having to get up to pee, it just wasn't going to happen. I spent a couple of hours organizing emails and managing contact info and did a little reading.

About 4:30 I decided I might as well get a run in before the roads get crowded and the showers get busy. The airfield here is beautiful, ringed with huge snowcapped mountains in every direction. There was a haze hanging in the air, which I think was partly morning fog and partly air pollution. It did make for a lovely view as the sun started rising over the mountains though. Not sure what it does for my lungs to be running in it. I found myself thinking of Buddy (my old goldfish) and those times when I would let his water get a little dirtier than I should have *lol*

Yesterday - I arrived at Bagram on the 17th - was a whirlwind. So disorienting. Trying to learn the base, get a sense for what I'm going to be doing, meeting all sorts of new people and trying to remember their names. All this while severely jet lagged. Dave (my fellow contractor on site here) was a help, as he took me around and introduced me to everyone. Then he announced he was heading out on a mission and I would be here alone for the remainder of the week. Nothing like jumping in with both feet!

I think Dave heading out will actually be helpful in getting psychologically settled. No one is really looking for me and no one is expecting me to be doing anything thus far, since I'm a new face. It will give me a chance to learn things at my own pace and get physically adjusted without the pressure of trying to jump right into working right away.

A short layover

2009-05-17T02:31:00.007+04:30

It's 2 am local time here in Dubai. It is 6 pm on the east coast of the United States, which is what time my body thinks it is. I spent the bulk of the 14 hour overnight flight from Atlanta drifting in and out of sleep. I never can fall completely asleep on a plane, but I was asleep more than not. So I'm pretty well wide awake at 2 am in Dubai.

I was greeted at the airport by a concierge from the Le Meridien hotel and driven over to the hotel in a Mercedes. Nice cars, those Mercedes.

My room is pretty decent too. Well, ok, better than decent - it's quite nice. Of course, with it being the wee hours of the night there is no where to eat and room service is closed. If I made the currency conversion correctly I think I just spent $18 on two small bags of nuts and a Toblerone from the snack shelf here in the room.

I had a moment of feeling like the stupid westerner when I turned on the shower and . . . nothing came out. I spent several minutes looking for missing switches or buttons, but no luck. Just a trickle of water. I gave up and hopped on my laptop to catch up on email and when I tried again later the shower worked! So I assume it was some issue with the plumbing at the hotel.

05.16.09.1130 @ Yahoo! Video

I also went for a walk around the hotel compound. A few random observations:

The smell of the warm night time air immediately reminded me of my time at the US Embassy in the Green Zone. The air is somehow more pleasant to breath because of the temperature. The heat is a heavy heat, but not unpleasant. It's like an electric blanket on a cold night. You just want to wrap up in it.
I was struck by how everything seems either brand new, or under construction here. Granted all I'll likely see is this little corner of Dubai.
There were cats running all over the hotel grounds. I don't know if they were strays or if the hotel uses them to control pests.
All the male staff here at the hotel seem to be Indian. All the female staff are Asian. I walked past an outdoor bar and it seemed to be exclusively comprised of Arab men with Asian women.
I have pics to post to my Flickr page, but Flickr is evidently blocked by the UAE internet police. God bless the First Amendment.

2009-05-16T05:12:00.001+04:30

One last margarita with dinner before flying out. Well, maybe more than one. It is an overnight flight after all.

2009-05-16T04:45:00.001+04:30

What's the deal with women getting uber dressed up to fly? Sure, they look nice but trying to walk the airport in 4 inch heels must be a bitch.

Almost like a monastic chant

2009-05-16T03:27:00.003+04:30

The rental car I had during my week at the CRC didn't have a hook up for an MP3 player, and I didn't have any CD's with me. I was reduced to listening to the radio as I drove around northwestern Georgia for the past week.

I haven't listened to the radio in the car in years. In fact someone asked me a while back how to tune the radio in my car and I had no idea what to tell them - I always listen to my iPod. The radio controls are a mystery to me.

One morning on my way in to Fort Benning I discovered the local Georgia Public Broadcasting station, which seemed to play NPR 24/7. I think I love it! It's interesting, it's intelligent, they tell great stories. But I think what I love most is the tone, the feel, the sound of NPR.

There is something soft, droning, mesmerizing about the sound of the on-air personalities at NPR. The slow, soft murmur as they share some story of Americana, or update you on the day's news. The rhythm of movement from short instrumental interludes to interviews to life stories to news updates. Always so zen, so un-urgent. The anti-Limbaugh. The opposite of Keith Olbermann. I found it profoundly relaxing and invigorating all at the same time, almost like a short catnap that left me feeling refreshed and focused at the end of my commute.

I have since subscribed to several NPR podcasts for my iPod. I have a long plane flight and I hope it will make the time a little more interesting.

Speaking of the airport

2009-05-16T02:53:00.002+04:30

As I was packing up my hotel room this morning, I put my laptop into hibernate and packed it up into my laptop bag. (I often use hibernate rather than a full shutdown because my laptop can take almost 10 minutes to finish booting from a full shutdown. When restoring from hibernation it pops right up within just a couple minutes.)

When I got to the airport and settled in to wait for my check in, I pulled my laptop out to pass the time. I unzipped the bag and . . . wow was it warm in there! The laptop had hung up while it was in the process of hibernating and it had been on for the entire 2 hour trip from Columbus to Atlanta, plus whatever time it had been packed away in the bag immediately before leaving the hotel and after my arrival at the airport!

Luckily it seems nothing burned itself out. Doesn't it figure though. I'm religious about watching the laptop shut all the way down before packing it up. The one time I'm distracted and in a hurry, the stoopid thing hangs.

6 pm on 5.15.09

2009-05-16T02:36:00.003+04:30

Sitting in the Atlanta airport waiting on my flight. 14 hours to Dubai. I got here about 7 hours early because I had to check out of my hotel room at noon and, frankly, I had nothing better to do than drive up and wait at the airport.

Atlanta has a nice airport though, and the USO here is really quite comfortable (free wifi and lazy boy recliners! woot!)

friggin' blogger is broken

2009-05-15T18:06:00.002+04:30

I don't know when you all will see this post, but as of 5/15 Blogger (the service I use for publishing my blog) is broken and not publishing correctly. I frankly have neither the time nor the energy to try to figure out the issue right now.

So whenever you finally see this message, it means everything is working. At least you'll understand why I haven't been writing.

Update: Obviously this means Blogger is again working. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but it seems to be working. If you're using this site to keep track and make sure I'm ok, don't automatically freak out if I go suddenly silent on here. It may just be technical issues.

Manly concerns

2009-05-15T05:24:00.002+04:30

I have put some weight on over the past couple months - the mirror and my pants do not lie. But I also had a suspicion that it wasn't all body fat. Looking in the mirror it seemed like I was a little broader in through the shoulders, a little thicker in the chest.

Tonight I finally took a moment and took some girth measurements. No, not that kind of girth - I measured biceps, shoulders, so on. The good news? I have for the first time recorded my upper arm at 17 inches! I know, I know, not the most fascinating blog post ever but it's significant for me. I've been stuck between 16 to 16.5 inches for several years. Yay more muscle mass! It also confirms my visual assessment that some of my added weight is indeed new muscle and not all fat.

Now I just need to get the spare tire back down to a manageable size without eating up too much of my hard fought muscle.

2009-05-13T15:05:00.001+04:30

0530 - first aid, weapons training and IED avoidance training. All day. ROCK ON!

I like how these guys think

2009-05-13T04:26:00.001+04:30

Don't fuck with pirates. They're smarter than you.

Ventura states in plain english what some people are going to great pains to make unclear

2009-05-13T04:21:00.005+04:30

"You give me a waterboard, Dick Cheney and one hour, and I'll have him confess to the Sharon Tate murders."

Words like "enhanced interrogation", "walling", and "stress positions" are attempts to make the obvious unclear and the certain, uncertain. Walling = beating the shit out of someone. Stress positions = forcing a human body into positions it was never designed to be in until it causes unbearable pain.

The purpose of this post isn't to argue whether the US Government *should* have tortured. If we choose to do it, then we should have the courage to own it for what it was.

Day 4 from Columbus

2009-05-13T03:27:00.003+04:30

05.12.09.1822 @ Yahoo! Video

For those who are interested, the new protective helmet is called the Advanced Combat Helmet (ACH). The main point of improvement over the old helmet is improved comfort, but if you really are into this kind of thing, here's the Wikipedia page.

Also, a quick hello to my Aunt Cheryl. You are email subscriber number three! Anyone else who would like to be notified via email whenever I make a new post to the blog, you can enter your email in the text box to the left of the page and you will be notified once per day of any new posts here. Check it out, it works pretty well.

Because it hurts more that way

2009-05-13T00:30:00.002+04:30

Why do they shoot your arms full of immunizations in the morning, then give you a duffel bag full of body armor in the afternoon? Doesn't quite seem right.

Day 3 from Columbus

2009-05-12T04:28:00.001+04:30

05.11.09.1924 @ Yahoo! Video

Evidently the "sh" sound has cleared itself up. Might have just been the acoustics of being in the car.

I'm not wearing any underwear

2009-05-11T13:55:00.003+04:30

And you might think this needs some explanation. Here goes:

I've found when I'm in hot, humid climates (such as Georgia or Southwest Asia) that it's best not to wear underwear. I sweat in Georgia (and Southwest Asia). A lot. My clothes of course soak up the sweat. With time I mostly dry off. Either we have some rest time or we head indoors for a class or what not. A nice breeze or air conditioning will carry the moisture from your shirt, pants, hat, etc.

But your underwear! It isn't exposed to the air and doesn't dry off once you soak them through with sweat. Once that happens, it's the equivalent of sitting in a wet diaper. Let me assure you, spending 12 hours in damp boxers is uncomfortable.

So I'm going commando today and for the foreseeable future. It's an act of kindness for Billy and the Twins, and everybody else in that general region.

Shhhhh, don't tell anyone! ;-)

2009-05-10T22:55:00.001+04:30

It is soooo much better going through the CRC as a civilian than as a soldier. It's almost strange to hear them say "please" instead of just barking.

Flickr updates

2009-05-10T06:53:00.001+04:30

I posted pics from my first day over in my photostream.

Day 1 from Columbus, GA

2009-05-10T04:45:00.005+04:30

05.09.09.0731 @ Yahoo! Video

This whole video blogging thing is a completely new experience to me. A couple of comments:

No, I have not suddenly developed a lisp. I also was not trying out my new imitation of Sean Connery. For some reason all my "S" sounds came out as "SH" in this particular video. I'm not quite sure what the cause is, but my hunch is it's an issue with the mic on the camera.
CRC actually stands for CONUS Replacement Center, not Central Redeployment Center. Because, y'know, Central Redeployment Center is pretty redundant. My bad.

The song writer sometimes speaks with words we cannot find for ourselves

2009-05-05T08:31:00.004+04:30

Thank you for
Making me
Feel like
I am guilty
Making it
Easy to murder your sweet memory

You were way out of line
Went and turned it all around on me again
How can I not smell your lie?
Through the smoke and arrogance

But now I know
So you will not get away with it again
I'm distant in those hollow eyes
For I have reached my end
So...

Thank you for
Making me
Feel like
I am guilty
Making it
Easy to murder your sweet memory

Before I go
Tell me
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be?
Either way I must say goodbye
You're dead to me
So I...

Thank you for
Making me
Feel like
I am guilty
Making it easy to murder your sweet memory
I'm severing the heart line
I'm leaving your corpse behind
Not dead but soon to be though
I won't be the one who killed you
I'll just leave that up to you

I'm not gonna be here to revive you
I'm not gonna be here to revive you
I'm not gonna be here to revive you
I'm gonna be the one to say
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you so
I told you

Severing the heart line
Leaving your corpse behind
Not dead but soon to be and
I'm gonna be the one to say I told you so

2009-04-29T22:00:00.001+04:30

The best thing about a baseball game? A bunch of strangers all sitting around bullshitting about the game.

songs I'm currently fixated on

2009-04-29T08:23:00.013+04:30

And the Angel of the Lord led me into the belly of the Holy Mother,
A chamber black as pitch
But I felt no fear, only comfort
For I was as a child in the womb.
And she bade me, "Peer through yonder portal",
Which looked upon the heavens.

And behold!
A Morning Angel!
She ascended slowly from far beyond the horizon,
Her light like a heavenly finger pointing the way.
And on yonder wall she traced for me a path which led me
Five directions,
Eight winters to east.
And behold!
As my feet landed firmly upon the vital winter of the second storm
There appeared before me
A heavenly star,
A holy virgin,
The Bringer of Life and Breath.

And she spoke unto me saying,
"Fear not the movement of the heavens above or the earth below,
For Change is what we are, my child.
Righteous are those
Who look up and sway with the wind,
Who look down and dance with the shifting of the soil,
Who swim with the movement of the tides,
Who seek the truth around them,
And discover we ARE and have ALWAYS been in paradise,
The reflections of heaven on earth.
Amen!"

And she spoke again saying,
"Know, my child, that there is
No devil seeking to cause guilt nor harm to men.
No evil, save blind faith, ignorance, and the desire for the unprepared
To blame others for the devastation left in the wake of Change.

Change, my child
Change is in the heavens
Change is on this earth
Change is all around us

And if we are reflections of the divine
We must roll with these Changes,
For we are these Changes.
Eyes wide open,
We must look upon the heavens as a mirror.
Wide awake, aware, deeply breathing.

And when the shit comes down, my child,
You will be there.
A true and holy survivor
To inherit the kingdom of god.

You will rise above the rumbles of the unprepared
To greet the new day,
To drink from the sweet fruit of the vine,
The water of life,
The blood of the risen Christ, my child.

Go now, child,
Tell them all.
The ignorant,
The blinded by dogma, blinded by faith,
The doubters, the nay sayers.

Tell them all, child.
They can NOT see the kingdom of God,
They can NOT see paradise unfold before them
They can NOT drink from the chalice which holds
The blood of Christ, the water of life,
Until they get right with Jesus!
Until they get right with Jesus!"

It's always gonna be sour grapes with you, boy,
Until you get right with Jesus!
Amen!