Silence Dogood…how we miss you…

Let’s imagine, for a moment, the first Congressional Congress. Ah, 1774, what a good year. Come on…you had high school history. You remember. All those free thinking folks in that unairconditioned space plotting the future of our destiny. All that talk of freedom…of servitude…of conscience. You couldn’t have missed it. It’s on the news every single day now. Just tune in…and tune out.

(As a side note, I will agree with my friend, Edge. Drink, the night, a good idea, and music simply cannot be beat. It is the intersection of the gods…but you know what’s coming. I’m listening to Cirque Du Soleil if that helps.)

Just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of Mr. Franklin. I truly associate with this man. Not just because he gave me my industrial calling (thanks for getting electrical charge backwards, Mr. Franklin), but because he played my part. Was he a revolutionary? Yes. History proves this out. But, at the end of the day, he did his damnedest to avoid bloodshed. He struck deals with everyone from the Danish to the Spanish to put pressure on King George to let good enough be. We came to this land to avoid their form of brutality…we lost. The brutality followed. Why? Why, money, of course.

At the end of the day even Mr. Franklin understood (and, frankly, so do I because of him) that we had to take our…selves…back. I weep for the years and people lost because of that decision. I live free today because of it. What makes this country great (and *DO NOT* consider this lightly…re-read this passage) is the mature, absolute, unrequited, steadfast, and dignified knowledge that directed violence is the way of last resort…and knowledge. I will never hurt you. Unless…you hurt those I love. “Unless” and “love” are the two words you should carry away from this discourse. It won’t be polite. It won’t be with “ordered humility”. I…will…fuck…you…up. And, friends, and liberal believers in the Original Congressional Congress (the greatest show on EARTH!!!) you’d better understand that concept…becuase I ain’t seeing it much in the press these days.

War. Yes, war. It is (I’ll wait a moment while you check your bibles) pretty much the oldest form of human consideration (coming in only second to prostitution). In the day, King George was the King of War. “Kill ‘Em All” was the order of the day. Do you think for a second that we weren’t aware of that? And, yet, somehow we were undeterred. Why? And, more importantly, how could my peace (and beer) loving compatriot have agreed?

Let’s skip ahead to…oh…now. We’ve got a few years under our belt to think about it. What are we known for? We willingly help the downtrodden across the planet. We are willingly the authority on infectious diseases throughout the globe (and the medicines to cure them). We are willingly (see that word again) the “land of political asylum”. We welcome “…your tired, your poor, your huddled masses.” We printed it right on the entry sign to the freakin’ harbor (thanks French, and sorry to all you Germans who came in through Galveston, Chinese through the rail system, etc.) And they came. But they understood (probably better than “we” did at the time) there’s gonna be a fight. And, by God, I’m gonna be in it. How did they know? Oh, come on. They ran from the assholes that were starting the fires.

What, I’ll ask again, are we known for? War. Killing. Death. Just ask anyone. What about the other stuff? No one remembers that. War. That is what we are good at. We live behind our cloak of safety and prosperity. But you are a fool if you think there is anything standing between you and the rest of the nasty, cold, sad world but our proficiency at war. You tell me about a time when that wasn’t an important factor in human history and I’ll tell you about the time that I did tequila shots with the Easter Bunny. We are good at war. The best Americans aren’t proud of that fact. The best Americans are sad about it, in fact. Ben Franklin wanted no part of war. But he respected its necessity. He also understood, as a father of our country, the limits of personal liberty. But you don’t want to hear about that now, do you? Too controversial.

We have all seen the face of war. It isn’t glorious. It isn’t interesting. It isn’t adventure. It is the very definition of loss. It is the dirty little secret that we wish, as humans, we could keep. We just can’t figure out who to keep it from. We have “peace riots” and “humanitarian gestures” and “police actions”…but we have simply evolved to a state that we hate the context and meaning of our way. And yet we depend on that barrier…that strength to keep us safe.

I don’t pray for an end to war. I’m not misled, I’m not duped. To wish so is to end our existence. A destruction of humanity. We must face what we are. If you don’t like it, good for you. I wish I had that pleasure.

Do you know when I became free? It was the day that I learned the meaning of the word “glory”. Glorious in battle. Glorious in conquest. Glorious in the very act of taking…in destruction. The very word that set us all free. The very word that determined what we least want to be. The very word that was leading to humanity’s downfall. Check it out. Read about the Romans. Read about the Greeks. An ancient concept, that damning word “glory”. We are all expected, as Americans, to aspire to a higher standard. Every time in my life that I have been given power I have had the great — and ominous — charge to understand my responsibility. We live free today because we had smart enough people to establish a foundation in aberrant disregard to glory. Glory is something to establish us…and set us apart. That word has led many a man and nation to a sad end.

“I pull the trigger. A can feel the recoil against my cheek. From the corner of my eye I can see the flash of brass as the spent cartidge leaves my rifle…curiously no sound. I have fired once…maybe I fired 100 times. I can’t remember changing magazines. I see a man before me in a cloud of dust. He is falling. The world is slow and, although I still feel as though I am moving in real-time, everything has slowed down. Like a crazy dream. This is some kind of insane circus. Sparkling windmills swing past. Dogs standing on their back legs with balls on their noses. Training? Is this the way it’s supposed to be? Did I do that? Are my friends safe? What do I do now?”

-”Anonymous Stories of War”

Where is glory here?

I grieve. I am filled with sadness. And yet I understand that the comfort upon which I type this line is burdened entirely upon the shoulders of a young person (today or 40 or 200 years ago) that entered that personal hell. And I don’t forget for a moment that our human destiny is based upon our ability to right wrongs and bring the power of war to those that can’t or won’t agree…or even consider it. As the world gets smaller our responsibility grows larger.

Do you know what sets us apart from the rest of the world? As an example, our military training is specifically designed, by our highest standards, to avoid ,whenever possible, the cost of human life. Respectful war? Go figure. Even though I have many a time found myself in the depths of hatred and anger, I draw an awesome strength from the fact that I daily see our brave men and women in the face of absolute horror…holding their fire. I have met thugs. I have heard the shrill cry of dying. I have cringed at the fear of instant death. And I came away hating those that did violence unto me. And I have felt unbelievable satisfaction that there are those in harm’s way that represent the most considered form of peace on this planet. They are better than me. I have seen angry 19-year old soldiers point their barrels at the ground and escort men, women and children out of reinforced bunkers. So have you.

I don’t care how much you didn’t pay attention in high school. When all is said and done you know what is right. I have spent a minor portion of my life with those that have been “in the shit”. I can say that, without fail, Americans on the ground (for the vastly most part…there are always buttheads) know what is right. You may not trust your President. You may not trust your government. But the spirit of those sad and regretful men at Valley Forge resides squarely in the hearts of our soliders. Respect that, if nothing else.

Even as Mr. Franklin (gleefully turning electrical engineering on its ass) sits back in his chair to observe what he helped bring to be, his eyes fill with tears. Even he hoped there was an end…an avoidance. But he knew there wasn’t. I may be a shite engineer, Mr. Franklin…but I’m writing. Writing to Silence.

To be that bold. To be that trusting. To be that sad…

I know what sets me apart from the violent, destructive, baseless humans of this planet. And although I seldom harbor fear for my own safety, I take comfort in the fact that we are in a position to use that strength to prevent another child from the horror of destitude. It would be horrendous indeed if I found fault in our inability to save them all. The fact is: we’ve saved one. Can you imagine an America where you didn’t celebrate that fact?

“I walk the earth.
Touch the sky.
I am an angel in your eyes…”

In so many places…in so many times…this is our curse. And yet hope is alive within me…as my forefathers.

As always, I’m obviously wrong. Off to refresh my drink.

From the song I’m listening to:

“Beautiful roaring scream
Of joy and sorrow, so extreme
There is a love in me raging
Allegria”

Believe it or not, I’m a fairly happy person. Translate as you see fit, but this song is how I feel right now (thanks Cirque Du Soleil…somehow you typically get it right). I think ol’ Ben would appreciate it.

Darkness

“The course of true love never did run smooth;
But either it was different in the blood -
Or else misgrafted in respect of years -
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends -
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say ‘Behold!’
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.”

-William Shakespeare, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

I have always had a love afair with darkness, night, gloom, whatever. As long as I can remember I have loved the night. It is like watching the universe digest the day.

There was a time — past life and all that — that I intentionally waited with gleeful anticipation for night to fall. On the farm I would sneak outside, careful not to wake anyone, and wander out into the area surrounding our sheds and just stare into the sky. I honestly thought everyone could see the Milky Way.

Later in life…far from the farm…I wandered into the streets to suck in the glorious solitude that empty streets bring. I could walk or drive for hours in a city full of people…all alone. It is comforting to know that any street, in any country, is the same at 3 o’clock in the morning. I heard someone once say: “Freedom is the lonely man in a crowd. So, too, is despair.”

Say what you like, but I always envisioned myself the “boogeyman”. There were no more dangerous monsters than me in shades of gray. Now, I don’t look there for comfort…but I still always find it there.

Just a thought.

Denny’s: We’re Definitely Cookin’ Now

So, is this really supposed to happen in California? I mean, the last time I checked, Californians were a peace-loving tribe concerned only with “speaking parts” and plastic surgery. I’m guessing, once the smoke clears, they’ll find it was a displaced Texan that just couldn’t take it anymore. Hell, at least when we shoot up a 24-hour breakfast restaurant in Texas we have the common courtesy to drive our vehicle into the restaurant. Gives everyone that 3 second warning needed to effectively return fire.

Can you imagine an interview with Denny’s staff management:

“So, just how often does a madman go on a live-fire exercise in one of your restaurants?”
“Oh, ’bout twice a week. We had NO idea how useful that new teflon cookware was going to be!”

Hello world!

Hello world! You know, I wish I had a nickel for every time I have seen that phrase. Programmers of the world will appreciate that. Others won’t. That’s what you call a “differentiating characteristic” isn’t it?

I won’t even pretend for a moment to know why I am starting a blog. I have resisted for so long. And, yet, I am driven to express something…and…well, this is the easiest medium to touch. My wife is a blogspert, so I’ll leave the higher reasoning to her. I just gotta be me…immortal words and all that.

I will begin by saying that these are “the reasoned drunken ramblings” of a mediocre slob. Frankly, having read a few blogs, I don’t think I have much to say. But, when the muse strikes (and the muse has been beating me incessantly about the head and shoulders lately) I am compelled to respond.

Let’s start at — oh, I don’t know — the beginning.

I grew up on a farm. Actually, I was a military brat for some years. But I truly grew up on a West Texas farm. I was raised by my grandparents and I learned the essential lessons primarily from my grandparents (the farmers in question). They weren’t perfect. They weren’t wealthy. In fact they were “farm folk” in every sense of the words. And yet they taught me all of the lessons that have made me who I am today (someone that you, frankly, don’t know yet).

I came to live on the farm when I was seven years old. It was hard at first. I was living in dire fear that my step-father would find me and…well…do more violence. Oddly enough, as I write this, you will note that I often look upon my past with “renewed” eyes. As an adult I can truly say that I see things differently. As a child…it was different. Suffice to say, my grandparents gained custody of me at seven (prolonged court battle, blah, blah, blah) and I was an instant “farm boy”. I don’t know the hows or whys, but I was somehow bestowed with a certain innate intelligence and wonder that came to uniquely shape my future. But, back to the farm. We raised sheep, maize (no, not corn), and cotton. My grandfather toiled every second I knew him. My grandmother as well. And we were rich.

Rich? Yep. I had security, food, almost anything my heart desired, support, freedom, and a sense of excitement and future. Sounds pretty rich to me. In truth, I really didn’t even know what that word meant until I was a teenager…and even then I still thought it to be true. I’m much older now and I have a new perspective on the whole thing. And I still think we were rich. I’ve come to know my grandparents as people. I am fully aware of the inherent economics of a farm. Trust me, I grew up as a rich child. What I thought of as “given” as a child came at a high cost. Those people paid an unbelievable price so that I would never know the hardship that being a “farm boy” was. Little did I know at the time but “you’re going to college” was the only payment they expected. I did. And I did very well. They created me and they passed away too soon. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank them in my thoughts for the fortitude, morals, pride, foresight, and strength that they infused within me. I am their living creation and I hold their absentee judgement as my highest standard. Dignity. We’ll get back to that.

Now that William Shatner has used the word “blog” in public forum I’m afraid that I have arrived too late. As I said, I have resisted this. But the last thing any of us want to go to our graves thinking is “I wish I’d said…”. Fair enough. Here it is. I have been a proponent of the Internet (yes, I still remember why we capitalize it) since FTP was my only porn outlet. I have obviously evolved a bit since then, but I find it sad that when it finally presented a healthy outlet for my mundane insanity, I intentionally skipped the boat.

So, all this “farm boy” talk and history will come up again, I guarantee it. But, no one likes a long-wind, right? I’ll end this by setting forth some of my beliefs. We’ll go from there.

1. War in Iraq. Wow, I start out big, don’t I? I do not see this as a war. We are now in the active stages of what I have always called “nation building”. We are involved in what Kennedy termed “a new kind of war”. There was a lot of foresight there. Am I a rabid Bush supporter? No. That isn’t to say that I’m a Bush contestor, either, though. Be careful. I learned a long time ago to use my own noggin. And that’s what I’ll do here. Are we succeeding? Yes, in my opinion. But just barely. I have enough contacts and information from the region to convince me that the vast majority of people in Iraq (and Afghanistan if you’ve forgotten) understand why we are there and support us. Our problem up until now is an old one. I blame every president since and including Kennedy (who only vaugely understood) for not getting a grip on this new type of war. What do you think of when I say “special forces”? Men in black sneaking up in the dead of night to wreak havoc upon our enemies, right? Forgive me for my expressiveness, but, that is bullshit. We have never before in our nation’s history deployed special forces at the level we are now, and never with such ignorance from the general populace. In matter of fact, we are now imposing the special forces doctrine upon all of our ground troops in this theater. The most important goal for our forces is to impress upon the indigenious people that we are there to help. Build schools, hospitals, wells, mosques, roads…whatever. We cannot (and don’t expect) to win this effort without these special acts. What pisses me off to no end is a generation of leaders (all of them, including the Bushes) that have ignored this as a primary training directive to our ground troops. Can a special forces “operator” shoot better that most? Can he clear a house in record time? Operate a huge array of explosives and act as an insurgent? Yes. Hell, yes. Is that what he is best at? No. And, sadly, not many people know that. And, even more sadly, the type of training that makes these folks good at helping people has been denied our “regular” troops for too long. So, now we have GI Johnny over there with a tricked out M4 trying to understand why a 74 year old man is defending his house with a musket. It isn’t his fault…no one told him. There is a movie that I frankly hated. Too many soap boxes. But there were a couple of good quotes. The movie was “The Siege” with Bruce Willis and Denzel Washington. Say what you will, but I think there were some introspective moments. One quote from Bruce Willis’ character was:

“The Army is a broad sword, not a scalpel. Trust me, senator – you do not want the Army in an American city.”

I don’t think that stops at “American”. We have brave and honorable (for the VASTLY most part) troops in Iraq. But they have not received the training needed to be a civil order force. We are learning this lesson…hopefully, before they are deployed elsewhere.

The other notable quote (from the same character) is:

“[...]tanks, helicopters. And of course, the ubiquitous M16A1 assault rifle. A humble enough weapon until you see a man carrying one outside your local bowling alley or Seven-Eleven. It will be noisy, it will be scary and it will not be mistaken for a VFW parade.”

This is, and justifiably so, our military. Yes, I understand this comment was aimed at the potential of an internal occupation, but if you think the countries that we are occupying are just sand dunes and camels, you really haven’t done your homework.

We retain enough force to saturate, overcome, and subdue any military on this planet. But, can we convice a farmer to stop storing explosives? Well, I guess we will find out. I believe that our greatest sin (I know, I don’t get to use that word…see below) as a nation is — at any point — a disregard for human life. Our troops are being taught how important this is and if you don’t believe me talk to a grunt coming back from over there. He or she has learned this the hard way. Sobering. Ours are the finest, most well trained, most dedicated troops on this planet. I support them 100%. If you think otherwise, we have a problem. Military force is just an extension of politics (thank you, Mr. Clausewitz) and I have issues there from time to time. But, as I said, be careful presuming you know where I stand.

2. While I seldom describe myself as an “atheist”, I think most Christians would put me in that category. I was brought up with “good Christian values” and I have never forgotten those lessons. However, my view of the world has been “honed” somewhat and I now prescribe to no organized religion. Does that mean I think religion is bad? No. Do I know anything about the religion that I have left behind? Oh, yes (quiz me if you like, I taught Sunday school for years). Faith is an integral part of many people’s lives and I will do absolutely nothing to disavow them of that faith. But I have very concrete reasons for not participating. I do believe in a human destiny, though.

3. I believe that the most important human force in my life is my wife. I am by no means a perfect example of humanity, but this person continues — unwaveringly — to love me. I depend on her to be my constant source of inspiration, humility, humanity, satisfaction, and happiness. She is my light.

4. I believe that domesticated animals are a human experiment in unconditional love. I often find myself more incensed by acts of cruelty towards animals than humans. They were created and bred to be companions. We should respect the power that we have wielded over nature (at least in this one aspect) and treat these creatures with the respect they deserve. Yes, yes, as humans we are masters of all we survey, etc, etc. But we invented these creatures for our pleasure and, damn it, we should treat them accordingly. It fills my heart with sadness that there are people that have looked into a helpless domesticated animal’s eyes and felt only anger and revulsion. As you may have guessed, I feel a little strongly about this.

5. I love to write. Actually, I love to communicate. Talk, write, sign, code…whatever. One of the few times I feel confident enough to write at this level is via the magical chemical elixir: alcohol (which I once lost a writing competition by misspelling). Take what you can get, I always say.

6. I love music (it seems like that should be followed by “long walks on the beach, cuddling, and children”). While I have proven time and time again that I am an absolutely inept musician, I still love the stuff. I am by no means an expert on bands or songs, but music never fails to soothe my…well, you know.

7. I believe that conscience is our own, private beacon. In any higher intelligence (what, you thought you were the only one?) you will find the irritating, beguiling, constant, forthright presence of conscience. In an earlier time in my life I found that I was operating almost entirely without any notice (or complete suppression) of my conscience. Let’s just say that allowed me the flexibility to do some fairly bad things (a la “Grosse Point Blank”) and leave it at that. But, in the end, I decided that to move on with my life I needed to define who I was. The only answers I could find had to do with my conscience. My beliefs are based primarily on Game Theory and Ayn Rand…to each their own. But here is the breakdown (for me): My conscience is (no, really, cliche aside) my guide. If I find that I am having a conflict of conscience I need to either a) stop doing what I’m doing or b) revise my inherent set of rules. You will find that option b poses a thick and thorny set of problems if you have truly thought out your “set of rules” in the first place. And, trust me, I’ve thought them out. Have you? Really? Good for you!

8. I *LOVE* technology. Funny, coming from a farm boy, eh? From the first time I soldered together a solar powered can opener to the last time I tried to uninstall Mandrake Linux (impossible, as far as I can tell) I have been in constant swoon. Does this make me a geek? Well, I’m writing a blog…you figure it out. (That’s a compliment to some of you and a horrible, horrible insult to the rest…live with it.) But, in the end, I will always love analog watches more than digital. My first modem was 300 baud. How many of you can say that? Or, for that matter, what “baud” is? I still actually remember the Hayes Instruction Set. *sigh* And, I have never — in my entire life — owned an “off the shelf” computer (although I did teach a class on COTS (Cheap Off The Shelf) redundant computing in college). I’ve actually met Peter Norton and I was a subscriber to Computes! Gazette and a beta tester of Mosaic. Ah, the good old days. So, what is this “blog” stuff anyway?

Thanks for sticking it out this far. In the future I will address: dignity, Rush Limbaugh, handheld computing, performing weddings, human ritual, what “Otter” means, and billiards. Ah, billiards.

Goodnight. And adios. Time to refresh my drink.

Otter