I'm 32 Friggin Years Old

So, I have cut off my internet connection at my place, which is why some of you have not seen more blogs from me, or seen me lurking about your blogs and leaving comments.

I stopped in at the local public library for one main purpose. To print off my Free Grand Slam breakfast from Denny's coupon they emailed me as a member of their rewards club.

So today I turned 32 years old... not really a milestone marker, but hey, I'm actually bothering to celebrate this year with some friends. And since it's my birthday, my gift to you, the outside world that is still plugged into the grid, is to let you see that I still haven't managed to die.

I tried to die on Easter Sunday. Not really on purpose. I went and played on the basketball courts that afternoon before going to work. While I suffered no contact induced injuries, I seem to have forgotten in my senile old age to stretch ahead of time, and to maybe take it a bit easier than I did when I was 16. I ended up with a knot in my thigh, and strained something in my lower calf (all in my right leg), resulting in me limping thru the entirety of my work shift that night, and only today feeling 100% again. I was sure they were going to have to haul me off and put me down, like a horse with a broken leg. I also destroyed my $20 walmart special shoes. Not entirely, but when I took the shoes off I had some light greenish foamy powder residue all over my socks, all over my feet underneath the socks, and even more inside the shoes themselves. I don't know what it was, but something inside disintegrated into a fine powder. I'm sure my mom will blame my nasty feet and their odor for killing the shoes...she may be right, I really don't know. Anyways, the birthday celebration is set for this upcoming Saturday night. If you can't make it, you may send cash in the amount of $50 in your stead. I'll be sure to make sure the money feels right at home with me.

Not much else to say at this point...so I'll shove off and go get my Denny's for breakfast.

Sex Studies Good For Heart Health

Ripped from the headlines: Irregular physical activity, including sex, can trigger heart attacks.

The idea that is found out to be true, and supported by this study from Tufts and Harvard University, is that "regular" exercise can decrease the risk of cardiovascular disease and death associated with it. We must be a bunch of dumbasses to have had some Ivy Leaguer scientists conduct a study to tell us something we've pretty much known for quite a few decades now.

More or less, it turns out that people who are out of shape or lead more sedentary lifestyles are more than 2 1/2 times more likely to suffer a heart attack in the midst of "sporadic activity" or the once in awhile occurrence of sexual escapades, than those who get regular physical exercise, which it turns out, sex can qualify as your exercise, as long as you do it regularly.

As one of the cofounders and head resident doctor at the James Medical Institute's Midwestern Regional Campus, let me be clear on one thing. When they say sex as exercise, they mean sex involving another person (full disclosure: some regions of the country allow for the other party to be a herding animal, preferably your own). Masturbation, no matter how frequent or frenzied it may be, does NOT qualify in the same realm, and has its own set of benefits (a healthy prostate in males, state law barred us from researching female tendencies), and risks (mainly a bad case of 'tennis elbow').




Often, you hear stories of old guys collapsing from a heart attack while outside shoveling snow during the winter. Or at least you used to. With the advent of wonder drugs like Viagra or Cialis, the old men have overcome their decreasing ability to maintain sex-drive and get plenty of practice attempting to keep up with their wives' seemingly endless rise towards peak sexual overdrive. Which in turn has created two new situations...increased STDs in nursing homes, and new employment of young kids to scoop the old geezer's driveway and sidewalks because the old man is still resting from last nights 3 hour romp with the Mrs, sponsored by Viagra. For the manly old men, who still choose to scoop their drives and walks, they don't fall over dead nearly so often anymore, due to that increase in their sexercise routine.

However, thanks to technology that has brought us things like blogging and facebook and email, the rest of us, who don't have medicare paying for our sexual stimulation yet, have become lazy and fat. For some reason, the fast food and high fat content foods we eat now no longer get absorbed and released quite like it did when we were kids. As a rentacop, I am especially prone to this, because only craptastic food is available at 3am when I get hungry, and as a rentacop, I am essentially a non-exercising blob of lard all night long. I really don't have to work all that hard, and everywhere I have to go to, I drive there. Now some might suggest that I could solve the food issue, by buying foods to make my own lunches and bring them with me for when I get hungry at work. To you people I say: Look up a few lines where I mentioned the part about us being lazy. You also say, take some time out of your day to exercise, and that will help. Again: LAAAAZYYYYY. Besides that, when I get home, it takes every ounce of energy I have just to put this blog out for you to read, and to peruse my facebook making snarky comments everywhere.




So, as a self-made doctor, I have come up with a solution to solve my problems. All you female peoples are just going to have to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good, and have sex with me. Its as easy as that. You get something, I stay healthy and continue doing what I do to enrich the world by just being me. And, I'll save money by not having to go thru expensive carpal tunnel or tennis elbow surgeries. And just to be on the safe side, let me stress that this "Health Study" is only accepting (human)FEMALE participants.

Eating Crow

Have you ever gone and communicated something and then realize that you have just shoved your own foot in your mouth?


Well, yesterday I got a whole heaping of it. It was April Fools' Day as most people know. I love this "holiday" for the pure simple fact that I can prank someone and its all good no matter what I do. It turns out I was wrong on that count as well.

I'm best at physical pranks, like the celophaning toilets, sinks, doorways. Or filling up a room or car with packing peanuts. Things of that nature. Cerebral jokes, or ones in which I must talk my way through them...not so much. And yesterday proved not only do I really suck at them, but I can do some serious damage with my sick mentality.

In all my glorious 'genius' (I'm using this term extremely lightly in these circumstances), I arrived home from work yesterday, logged onto facebook and posted a notice in which I credited to my wife about me dying in a car accident the night before, and funeral plans would be pending.

Now, I spend a lot of time blowing smoke up people's kiesters. Of all things for certain people to take seriously, apparently this was the one message. The first few people to respond took it as it was intended. Just a really dumb (albeit very sick) joke that went too far. However, a few people got at least a little offended, and some very seriously upset assuming the post was true.

I received a call from my sister almost immediately after I posted this message. She was pretty sure she would have received a call about this instead of reading it on facebook, but opted to call here just to be on the safe side. A friend of mine in the area also called, basically to call me an idiot. I was called a variety of names such as idiot, loser, asinine, f*$%er, stupid. Other mentions were made of disappointment in me, and how I suck, and how they are pissed at me. All valid criticisms, and ones I would have to accept regardless of validity in this case.

Most of it was pretty generic, but then I received a message from my best friend, Jed. I grew up with Jed and his brothers. They were like brothers to me, and their parents were my 2nd set of parents as well while growing up. It turns out his mother, my second mother, saw the post and lost it. She was unable to scroll down to where the joke was exposed, and called Jed. She was very upset with the idea of me dying first, then at me for doing that to her. He forwarded me her phone number to call her.

It rang quite a few times. Part of me wanted it to go to voicemail, as that would have been easier to deal with, however she did end up answering. I have not received an ass chewing of that quality in quite some time. I was physically hurting from the emotional burden of this phone call. Unlike the selfish bother it can be when you're a kid being bothered because of the very act of getting chewed out, I was actually genuinely bothered by her reaction. One of the rare times in my life where I found myself feeling bad for the other party and what I had done to them. I found myself pretty speechless to the point that she had to ask if I was still there to accept the well deserved ass chewing I was getting. Saying she was very heavily upset is an understatement. I do not possess the vocabulary to describe her emotional toil that I had subjected upon her. I know she loves me and all being one of her "extra kids", and has forgiven me (punishment pending of course).

Needless to say, whenever she comes out to Iowa, or I go back out to Wyoming, I have at least a few butt-kickings to endure from her. And her husband, well, since I made her cry, I have a feeling that I am going to find out LITERALLY just what being taken out behind the woodshed means.

At her suggestion I pre-emptively emailed my mother in case she got wind of it, to let her know it was all a very bad and stupid 'joke'.

I also managed to offend one friend here in Iowa. He has a family member currently not doing well, and with a bad prognosis for the future. So this "joke" was more than just a little bit ill-timed for him to be reading about.

It was quite apparent that I was doing very little in the way of thinking yesterday morning when I went ahead with my idiotic idea. I made a dumb assumption that people would just laugh at me for making a monstrously poor attempt at an April Fools joke. I've always been more like a jester, and the idea of people caring that much, at least expressed openly, has always made me a bit uncomfortable.

To those of you who didn't take it seriously, I'm not sure if I should be mad at you for not caring enough to believe it, like some of the others did.

Either way, to those whom I offended and upset, I truly am sorry, and hope you accept my most sincere of apologies.

Observations Of Events During Superbowl Weekend

All these events happened during Superbowl weekend, and are in no way in chronological order or in an order of importance.

Buggy decides to choke me out with a dual combination of a scissor lock around my neck from behind while using his hands as leverage to exert some extra pressure on my windpipe. He's learning....air flow as well as blood flow are equally important in taking down your opponent. For this I am a proud father. In addition to open palm slapping a school bus bully earlier int he school year, he is learning other techniques. A little more practice and he'll he getting in trouble at school for picking fights with older kids and winning. I'll have to scold him and explain to him why that is a bad thing, and yet, part of me will be smirking inside knowing I have raised a boy that learns to handle himself physically.

So I play along, and fake death. He checks the eyeballs by lifting the eyelids, and I have rotated the eyeballs downward so he only sees the whites of my eyes. Then he proceeded to surprise me with a move I had no idea he knew anything about. He had gone from killing dad to trying to resuscitate dad. He pulled my head up and tilted it back and with a firm grip on my nose he began to give me mouth to mouth. I stopped this before he gave me a heart stopping blow to this old guy's chest. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was bringing me back to life by giving me "face to face". After his mom came home from work, and heard this story, she was more than just a little amused at the antics of her youngest boy. I on the other hand, was less than enthused with a slight bit of his spit-laden breathing that had entered my mouth.

Later on Friday night, I had the neighbor from downstairs send up their grandson to ask why we were letting it shower in their kitchen. I was unaware of such phenomenon. So I made a check under the sink, and sure enough there was a pool of water, along with some fissures in the woodwork that allowed some of the water to leak through the floor and down out of their ceiling around the light above their kitchen sink. So, the sink and dishwasher were now off limits. I found a nice sized hole in the u-shaped pipe. So I call the property managers' number. No answer. Well, this doesn't shock me at 830 at night. I leave a message, and then again in the morning call back. I explain to the young ditsy lady in the office that the pipe has a hole in it and it leaks into the downstairs neighbors' apartment. Can she send someone over to fix it?


To that she replies, "Can it wait until Monday?"
I said, "No, I'd rather it be taken care of now. I can't use the sink or the dishwasher, which is a major inconvenience considering I pay for an apartment that comes with fully functional plumbing."

And to this she asks, "Why can't you use the kitchen sink?"
"UH, cuz there's a BIG HOLE IN THE PIPE THAT LEAKS ALL OVER IF ANY WATER FINDS ITS WAY DOWN THE DRAIN and RAINS IN THE NEIGHBORS APARTMENT...and the same if I use the DISHWASHER." I'm generally pretty easy going about whatever, bu when someone who is supposed to serve me asks a dumb question that any third grader would be fully capable of understanding the answer to, since it was already explained...well, Mookie The Sarcastic has a way of coming out.
I hear a disgusted sigh and a half hearted, "I'll see if I can't get anyone over there then.." As if somehow I have inconvenienced her. Well, I ended up waiting until this morning, Monday morning. I spoke with the maintenance guy while he checked it out and took a whole 5 minutes to solve the problem. Apparently there were a lot of issues that surfaced over the weekend that never got taken care of. I have never cared much for this young lady who works in the office. She is more concerned about getting new people in, and doesn't care much for dealing with anyone who has already signed their lease...until its time to renew anyways. She wrote it down, but from what I understand, it never got passed on to any maintenance guys to even look at the issue. Damn near the entire pipe was rusted out, almost along a seam.

There are a lot of aspects I don't like about my job either, but I do them to the same ability I do the other aspects that I do like, because its my F*&$ing job. I don't understand why these young idiots don't get this concept anymore. Guess I'm just too old fashioned in that I actually expect someone does their job the best they can do.

So for the last couple of days my wife has been schooling my oldest, Josh, on how to do dishes by hand, in a plastic tub to wash and one to rinse, and then hand dry and put everything away. I'm sure he has been scarred by such an atrocity of not being able to use an actual dish washing appliance. Even though his mother was doing the washing part for him. But good experience for the boy, as Calvin's Dad would say, "It's good for you and builds character."

Now, onto the Superbowl. Let me first say to all those rooting for Indianapolis to win: BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA

Its not so much that I am a Saints fan, but as a 49er fan, I feel an allegiance to the NFC team in the Superbowl as well as the Pro bowl. That is, as long as the NFC team is not the Dallas Cowboys, Green Bay Packers, or any team made to include a certain guy we call Brett Favre. In fact, if Brett Favre we're to ever lead my beloved San Francisco 49ers to the Superbowl, I may come close to rooting against my own team. Okay, maybe not THAT bad, but I would pray for a victory almost solely on the shoulders of others and a career ending injury for the guy who can never seem to just retire and be done with it.

New Orleans was damn near killed off by wind and water a few years back by Hurricane Katrina...I wonder if a fire will erupt and burn the city down in what will be the first Mardi Gras to last at least 2 weeks? Because lets face it....there is almost always a riotous atmosphere and a car or two set ablaze in whichever city wins the Superbowl, almost always. And, New Orleans is really going to celebrate their first ever Superbowl appearance and win right on into Mardi Gras. There will be NO break in the party action. Participants will sleep in shifts to ensure the party never stops. It could be March before its all over.

Now to assess the game. While the total score tally ended up being 48 points, it was definitely a lower scoring game than predicted. And while the 31-17 score was a seeming blowout, it was much closer than that in reality. The 4th quarter pick off my Tracy Porter that was run back for a Touchdown sealed the deal, but up until that point, this was a close game that could've gone either way.

I was not surprised by the gutsy calling of Sean Payton in the first half (or the entire game for that matter) opting to go for it on fourth and goal at the 1 1/2 yd line. The play before I was sadly disappointed in the running back Mike Bell. He went off tackle right, and as he changed direction from lateral to down field towards the goal line, the idiot made a stupid mistake. HE tried to make the cut on his inside foot. I'm no superstar athlete but even I know that cutting on your inside foot always lands you on your ass, and if you don't it was merely because God himself had come down and kept you in a more upright position. Inevitably Bell never was able to plant his cleats into the turf because of this display of shoddy footwork and slipped on his face, with a little extra help from a salivating defender. It was this dumb mistake that forced the 4th and goal play to even come into question. Now, I too would have gone for it on 4th and goal, no doubt. On your opponents 1 1/2 yd line down 10-3? with about 2 minutes left? Oh yeah.
But the play calling itself was amateurish at best. The kind of thing you expect from a first year coach in a JV game at your local school, not Sean Payton who has made his season on gutsy and smart game planning schemes. He stacks two receivers left, and then runs another off tackle right square into a mess of defenders, without any help outside the Offensive line. of course he wasn't going to score. That play was dead before they ever got out of the huddle.

Coach Payton did redeem himself coming out of halftime, with a brilliant and completely unexpected onside kick call, which was recovered by the Saints, and subsequently marched down the field for a touchdown to take their first lead of the game 13-10. Indianapolis, led by future Hall of Fame QB Peyton Manning, engineered a drive to answer New Orleans and regain the lead. Then the game slowed down, in a back and forth manner, with only 1 field goal by the Saints coming prior to the last 5:30 of the game. Then with about 5:30 left in the final quarter, Drew Brees capitalizes on a failed FG attempt by Indy, and marches the ball right down the field for another touchdown, followed up by a controversial 2 pt conversion to put the Saints up 24-17. Indy comes back out, making play after play. Then it happened. Peyton Manning throws out to the outside receiver, and Tracy Porter just cuts in front of the receiver, picks it off and runs it back 73 yards to pound the nails into the coffin that held the Colts' chances of a Superbowl victory. With about 3:30 left in the game it was just too much for even Manning's comeback abilities to overcome. Eventually as the clock winded down Manning threw an incomplete pass on 4th down, giving the Saints the ball and the ability to run the clock out without running a single real play. I saw the first half of the game on TV, and had to listen to the second half on the radio. But through either venue, it was quite an exciting game. The NFC wins and Brett Favre wasn't involved. The boss will be happy, I'm happy with it. It was a good weekend overall, despite having to, as usual, work on Superbowl Sunday.
I LOVE FOOTBALL!

Short History of Warfare and Its Contemporary Failure

I'm looking at what should be a pretty complex issue, however as usual I will most likely ovrsimplify things, for easier writing and easier comprehension of the basic points I'll be making (a tactic that can often be mistaken-sometimes correctly- for me not wanting to melt my brain with hard thinking) today.

"War's very object is victory, not prolonged indecision. In war, there is no substitute for victory" --General Douglas MacArthur

The quote seems simple enough, as it should be. Most things in this world are simple, until someone with a more than just an ounce of intelligence starts scrutinizing them and pondering enough scenarios to fill a library, along with those who choose to counter with their own thoughts. The human mind is capable of a lot, which has led to much good, much bad, and much ugly things in our world.

War fits the latter two categories. War is very often the result of disagreements over simple things. One man disparages another man's ego, and suddenly a duel is in place for them to settle their differences, no matter how many people are dragged into their conflict, willingly or otherwise. Rhetoric is ratcheted up on both sides, in the hopes of compelling others of their own righteousness, and possible allies in their "fight against evil."

War and Politics have been intertwined with each other since the invention of both. In the beginning, politics often led to war. Then the armies fought it out, with total victory in mind. While politics played a role int he war, it was often mere infighting as to who got to do what, and who gets credit for this or that. But neither side ever deviated from the main goal, which was to dominate and eliminate the enemy until the point of surrendering. Many times, the same war was fought between the same opponents, multiple times, with just a different name assigned to each particular conflict. While armies decimated each other, it was a back and forth of unsettled politics between the foes, with certain stretches of 'peace' between the events.

One example of this would be the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. American authorities and British authorities had squabbles, first resulting in the war for our Independence. Later, political and economic reasons, led us back into war with the British. Since that point, both countries have gotten along for the most part, keeping a more peaceful temperament with each other. There are of course, thousands of other examples, such as European Empires fighting back and forth over the centuries, but I'm not going to muddy the waters by including each and every one of them.

You look at politics even in the Civil War. Politicians shaped the arguments, engaged the people, next thing you know, America is imploding on itself in all out war. Strategy was largely determined by generals. Occasionally the Commanders-in-Chief would step in if a general wasn't doing his job, which was create victories. Lincoln was forced to re-assign, or outright remove many generals for their failures, ineptitudes, or downright unwillingness to take the fight to the enemy on multiple occasions, but we wont get into specifics on that today.

The last "conventional war' that was ever really fought, at least as far as American involvement goes, was World War 2. Armies were identified with clear distinction, and the name of the game was killing the enemy and taking land, chunk by chunk, until the enemy surrendered. Even within this war, political infighting was apparent within the ranks of any given country's military and government, as well as between nations and their allies. But, as I mentioned earlier, in the end, the goal was clear. Tactics and basic strategy may have changed, depending on the situation on the ground, but the overall strategy was simple: Defeat the enemy everywhere you meet him, and drive him back to his home. He can choose die or to surrender. There are NO other underlying circumstances to be optioned. You send out your soldiers to win the war, so they can come home.

Well, World War 2's ending saw something a bit different than that. After victory was declared, many nations' armies occupied enemy territory even as peace was assumed. Two superpowers emerged in the world. First was America, who had helped greatly the efforts of Europe to get out of the Nazi chokehold, while also battling the Japanese on the other side of the world. Second was Russia, who depsite losing tens of millions of soldiers, had kept Germany from expanding its control over them, and helping the allies make headway into Europe by obliging Hitler's attempt at a two front war. Disagreements were rampant between the allies and the Soviets over who got control of where, and a nearly 45 year standoff ensued known as the Cold War.

Enter Politics not only as the decider of when war would be waged, but where it would be engaged, how it would be fought, and to what extent it would be fought. The world was suddenly divided into two camps. You either supported America and Capitalism, or the Soviets and the Communist form of government and economics. True, some countries essentially tried to stay out of the mess, but the majority of countries around the globe found themselves tied more to one side or the other. Again this is a vast oversimplification. If you want a lot more intricate detail, you can find a wealth of knowledge from a fellow blogger, Scott, over at http://scotterb.wordpress.com.

America soon adopted a foreign policy that was designed around the idea of stopping the spread of communism, whereever in the world it may show its face. Our next major conflict found American forces in Korea. The Korean peninsula divided itself up. You had the communist regime controlling the north supported by the Chinese, while leadership in the south attempted to avoid communism, enlisting the help of America to repel communist forces. It was a drawn out conflict, which technically still exists today. Peace is fragile under a truce, as neither side could force the other side to surrender, and technically the two sides remain at war. While militarily the war could have been won, politics played a major role in deciding just how far American forces would go. For all the sabre-rattling America did as a government in response to the "communist threat", she did not wish to fully engage China or Russia into the war. The threat of nuclear war was always there, as the Soviets had developed their own arsenal in response to America's nuclear capabilities (and history of use at the end of WWII), and neither side wanted to test the resolve of the other. Evnetually the 38th parallel was drawn as the dividing line, and the Korean peninsula remains divided to this day.

Years later, after Vietnam had won its independence from France, America had its own advisors in the south of Vietnam, helping fight and train with their armies, while Ho Chi Minh led a communist movement from the north. Minh' splan was to keep Vietnam unified under a communist banner. America and the south Vietnamese were determined to repel the communists.

While guerilla warfare has always been used in conjunction with conventional war tactics, this was the first war in which America found itself on the opposite end of a well sustained guerilla movement. American forces were harassed daily by guerilla forces consisting not only of regular army units, but iregular units as well. And interesting turning of the tables, considering these tactics were used successfully by the Americans in their own war for independence from Britain. While taking massive casualties through this long drawn out war, the American forces had successfully repelled guerilla attacks as well as win every major military engagement during this time. However, politics was playing a heavy hand in this engagement. American Commander of the Army, General William Westmoreland, asked for and received the troops he asked for to fight this war. Militarily we had the ability to engage the enemy and drive them back to Hanoi. Politically, we were not willing to do so, give the possibility of threat from the Chinese and the Soviets, and what that meant as far as possible large scale war again.

And so today we look at current American war zones, Iraq and Afghanistan. Militarily winnable wars. However, we have also engaged a multitude of other objectives, such as the spreading of democracy, stability of the governments and the regions as a whole, and I'm sure a host of other things, that Scott can go into more detail about.

These days, almost no war is winnable under the whole sense. No country seems to be willing to define just what victory is (Hat tip to Classicliberal2 for pointing that out. Note, this link wil take you to his blog, not the specific comment. He's very smart, and write's well thought out commentary. Despite he and I often disagreeing on most things political, its a good conversation and learning experience)
Victory these days, is so multi-sided that we send off our soldiers to go fight battle after battle, usually with no idea what the actual goal is. I mean sure, from the young soldiers perspective, go find and kill the enemy. But the macro scale of what the war is about, or what defines victory is often shielded from or completely incomprehensible to the common soldier.

And to a certain extent, I think that part of the PTSD we see in soldiers these days is the direct result of constant political shifting of the winds in regards the war (and not necessarily our ability to diagnose it better than in the past). A soldier fights small and large battles, but with no clear direction on where to go. The mission changes every day, victory is either not defined very clearly, or defined at all, bsides some vagueries thrown out by the higher ups. And sometimes I wonder if THEY even know what the overall objective is.

There is a lot of conjecture on both sides (pro- and anti-war) as to why we are in Iraq and Afghanistan. Iraq is winding down, we hope. Afghanistan is heating up again, after what seemed to be a long time stuck in a holding pattern. Some wish we'd pull out immediately, which comes with serious political implications. Others say we ought to throw more soldiers (which the President has decided to do on a smaller scale) at the effort there in Afghanistan (which also has serious political implications).

These days, the idea of a pure war do not exist. They are entirely too intertwined with politics, which are often filled with a whole lot of 'what-ifs" to function as they were intended. Which really makes it a disgrace and a show of dishonor to our troops to send them places to do things to which there is no real end game. We send them off to foreign lands to either babysit, or to inflict, view and experience death on a daily basis, only to someday bring the live ones back, and having accomplished nothing but the shedding of some blood. Also to is the concept of fighting a moral war, that somehow we can change the rules of engagement to make it somehow better. This can only be accomplished in the circles of theoretical, but misguided minds.

As a military history buff, and a former member of the military, I make it my official position that unless we can define our goals and just what victory is, our government has no business sending our troops anywhere. Let them stay here in the states and territories with their families, ready to defend our own citizens, until a clear need to dispatch them away to far off lands actually arises, and then, and only then, with a clear plan in place for the military to do what it does best.
If we adhere to such standards, I think that the relatively few wars we would actually engage in would be far more supported by the people here at home, which in turn would make it a less politically divisive issue to tear each other and our leaders at the time down.

Colonel Plans a Coup!

From the Desk of the Enlightened and Immortal General Mook, Supreme Commander of All He Surveys:

It's a new official title. Those who fear their own death through conspiracy often act irrationally. However, since it is me talking, my irrationality becomes rational. Most leaders who fear their being overthrown will act in one of two ways. They will either enhance their powers and eliminate threats through executive orders (up to an including the assassination of key figures), or they will recess into their own world of denial and reclusiveness. I however, being unique (the world is thankful for this) and special (think propeller beanie special) have chosen neither route. I have decided to document the conspiracy in case of an untimely demise, and of course use the occasion to bolster my already unnecessarily large ego. For yes, if I am to be the victim of a whacking, it only signifies just how important I must be.

Thus far, the Colonel has been somewhat passive in his undermining my authority. Forced marches to the food dish, sticking a claw into my lip to wake me up so that I let him out of the bedroom, and occasional attack training with my hands and arms. his "training exercises" have become much more frequent as of late. I'm sure he'll pounce any day now, once he feels he knows all my moves.

Lately however, he has become a bit more irritating. Standing watch from the east observation post (kids' bedroom window), everytime I come home from working out I sense he is taking notes on my activities. Not to be a better executive officer, but merely to gauge how it will all go down in the end. Whenever I come home from work, and just before I leave for work, he is exceptionally squirrelly. He runs back and forth erratically, with a mixture of some sort of low growl, yowl and meowing. It's a rather unnerving sound.

He has also engaged in random, but more frequent, intimate behavior. He will climb onto my lap as I sit here at the computer, and multiple times while I sprawl on the couch watching a game or a movie. He maneuvers his head in a way to encourage more petting. And sometimes now, he has even taken to laying on my bed with me. He seems to be irritated should I make any movement that might disturb his very particular feline decision on how to lay about.

Other times, I awake to see him on my dresser in front of the window. Not looking out the window, but staring me down. As if to say to my barely awake eyes, "I could've killed you in your sleep, but that would be too easy."

The Colonel uses my boots as a place to rub his face against from time to time. I suspect at some point he will just sidle up to them and pee in them just prior to me leaving for work.

Someone once said, "Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."

I suspect the Colonel has taken this to heart and is attempting to buddy up to me, in hopes that I let my guard down. I'm not falling for it. Not even for a minute. But I won't let on that I know what he's up to.

The Colonel may be under some sort of Feline Derangement Syndrome if he even thinks he'll have my seat of power around here. He may have my wife fooled, but sooner or later, once she realizes that the cat really is going to try to kill me she will be an ally of mine that he won't want to reckon with. He can take my skin, but he ain't getting my girl. He may attempt to counter an attack against her flank, but that isn't the wisest move in the world. She'll boot his fat cat butt to the moon in a heartbeat.

I'm sure he'll try to be slicker than that though. He's currently posted up looking out over the deck. A terrrorist squirrel is flaunting his mobility outside, which only taunts the Colonel into a foul mood. I'm fine with this of course. Whenever he is in one of those moods, he can't concentrate on his plans for me.

Which is all the better. No need to enable his portraying Brutus to my Julius Caesar! "Et tu, Kittykat?"

Terrorist Acts By Bats!!!

As most of you know by now, I'm your average run of the mill rentacop. I drive around, mostly looking pretty, and check to make sure clients' businesses and homes are secure all night. One of my other duties is to respond to alarms at these places. I get the call, go to the alarm, make sure everything is good, or if a bad guy shows up, do something about it...like call the actual cops. Real Hero stuff, and all for $9.50 per hour!!!

Well, the other day, I am walking around a client's house. She moved to another part of town, and left this house in a rather affluent neighborhood which is up for sale. We used to just drive into the driveway and that was it. One day the realtor left the front door open after a showing, and some kids decided to take advantage of the new party spot, henceforth we do full walk arounds every shift now. Anyways, I'm walking around this house, and as I check the front door, I notice something on the board trim above the door and underneath the overhang. I shine my flashlight up there to see what it is, and RIGHT FOR MY NOSE, this bat does some aerial ninja stuff off the ledge, scares the hell out of me, and after backing me off disappears into the trees. Okay, no big deal...

Then came last night. I am sent on a non-identifiable motion alarm to the Hoyt Sherman Foundation house. This place was built by a Civil War General way back when. There are stories, but only word of mouth (I checked for stories online, but came up with nothing), about it being considered possibly haunted-worthy. Mostly centered around a supposed illegitimate boy, affectionately named Chicken Boy, between General Sherman and his daughter. Anyways... this place has a theatre section (which I've attended functions at before) as well as the house, which included an art displaying addition. The place freaks me out, because it does indeed look as haunted worthy as almost any other place I've seen. It's big, with lots of rooms, lots of passageways from random spots in the building, and really friggin dark inside.

Well, my supervisor shows up and decides to escort me through the place. My manly macho attitude goes right out the window here, and more than welcomes the company. We check the outside, and verify that the theatre section is not in alarm. So we enter the house and check out rooms. The alarm pad says the mirror room is the point of alarm (why the security monitoring company can't figure this out is beyond me), but that helps about as much as the security monitor's ineptness. We find a door that leads up to a previously existing belltower. The tower was removed, and the roof resealed (albeit probably not all that well) at a lower level, but the door to it is still there. I open it up, and inside is a bat swooping around acting as a sentry. I quickly shut the door trapping the bat away from us. We check soem more rooms and are in the main upper hallway next to the stairwell, when it happens. A big freaking 747 divebombs us, swoops out and around and continues to make runs at our head. Apparently this was a training exercise and the airborne intruder is not armed to the hilt, otherwise we surely would have been strafed to our deaths.
This is one big friggin bat. I thought at first maybe Batman was real, but then realized Batman doesnt attack rentacops, and we hadn't activated the Bat Signal yet anyways. Then of course I thought that if Chicken Boy had truly disappeared, that this bat had been feasting on him to get that big. I mean seriously, the thing was THIS (stretching my hands out) big!

My supervisor, Casey, attempted to fend off the bat with his mag-lite. Yeah, that only pisses bats off apparently. You just don't antagonize a bat. That big bastard ended up chasing us downstairs and continuing the constant harrassment. Casey beat feet right past me and out into the kitchen, which is apparently out of bounds for the bat, which left me at the bottom of the staircase, crouched low, and stretching with everything I had to hit the lightswitch to the off position. I clicked the switch, and ran underneath the swooping bat into the kitchen myself. Apparently bored with us quitters, the bat disappeared up the stairwell and into the darkness. THANK GOD! We got permission from the keyholder to arm the perimeter, rather than chase down the bat and evict him just to set up the entire alarm system. Again..THANK GOD. That bat surely would've eaten us, or given us rabies.

I'm not so sure I signed up for this stuff, at least not without being allowed to carry around some anti-aircraft guns!

Update From The Colonel- July2009

Early on 03July2009, General Mook and his support staff (aka "the family") left the Mookified Compound for a period of nearly two weeks. I suspect it was political in nature, as the General is secretly petrified of dealing with the hard issues. As the only senior officer left, I was charged with providing security for the entire compound. With only periodic and minimal resupply from Captain Stew's Mobile Support Platoon during this time, my training would be put to the test. Lacking the General's presence, surely the enemy would come full charge.

Daytime incursions proved few and far between, allowing for some rest between combat patrols and operations. Nighttime however was a different story altogether. Unmanned aerial drones (the military jingo for "flies") had strafed and reconnoitered the compound on multiple occasions, keeping my forces unnerved and on edge. Rules of engagement were strict in that we were not allowed to counter anything other than direct attacks. The night of the "friendly fire incident" occurring was only an inevitable matter of time.

An unidentified personnel entered The Compound without prior notfication coming into our comm station. As he breached the perimeter, in the dark I only made out the silhouette of an intruder. I was the only one on guard duty at the time as our current threat level was listed as low. I had made the approach to the breach point too quickly, and the intruder stumbled over me, injuring my front paw. Not thinking of the Purple Heart that I would be rewarded, my true valor and combat soldier instincts came to the surface. With my cat-like reflexes, I used a jiu-jitsu leg sweep to take down our invader. My standard weapons not on hand I was forced to resort to hand to hand combat. I quickly pounced on my enemy assailant, climbing my way up the length of his body to finish him off. I began to apply the judo ear bite, but before I cinched in the finishing death blow, my good paw felt a slight difference in his ear. Recognizing this telltale sign of identification, I released the intruder.

Captain Stew, like most rear echelon brass, thought he was doing me a favor by showing up unnanounced with intentions of fresh chow. I had to explain to him (also read: chew his ass) the reason for protocol deeming forwarding communication prior to arrival. He was visibly shaken from his brush with certain death at my hands, but a good dressing down was definitely in order. Next time he'll know that he better arrive AFTER letting me know, or he may not be so lucky...

The Oldest Argument

THE OLDEST ARGUMENT:

> "Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ."
> The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks
> one of his new students to stand.
> "You're a Christian, aren't you, son?"
> "Yes sir," the student says.
> "So you believe in God?"
> "Absolutely."
> "Is God good?"
> "Sure! God's good."
> "Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?"
> "Yes."
> "Are you good or evil?"
> "The Bible says I'm evil."
> The professor grins knowingly. "Aha! The Bible!" He considers for a
> moment.
> "Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can
> cure him. You can do it… Would you help him? Would you try?"
> "Yes sir, I would."
> "So you're good...!"
> "I wouldn't say that."
> "But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could.
> Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't."
> The student does not answer, so the professor continues. "He doesn't, does
> he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to
> Jesus to heal him How is this Jesus good? Hmmm?
> Can you answer that one?"
> The student remains silent.
> "No, you can't, can you?" the professor says. He takes a sip of water from
> a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.
> "Let's start again, young fella Is God good?"
> "Er...yes," the student says.
> "Is Satan good?"
> The student doesn't hesitate on this one. "No."
> "Then where does Satan come from?"
> The student: "From... God…"
> "That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in
> this world?"
> "Yes, sir."
> "Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?"
> "Yes."
> "So who created evil?" The professor continued, "If God created everything,
> then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle
> that our works define who we are, then God is evil."
> Without allowing the student to answer, the professor continues: "Is there
> sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do
> they exist in this world?"
> The student: "Yes."
> "So who created them?"
> The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question.
> "Who created them? There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks
> away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.
> "Tell me," he continues onto another student. "Do you believe in Jesus
> Christ, son?"
> The student's voice is confident: "Yes, professor, I do."
> The old man stops pacing. "Science says you have five senses you use to
> identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?"
> "No sir. I've never seen Him!"
> "Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?"
> "No, sir, I have not."
> "Have you ever actually felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your
> Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for
> that matter?"
> "No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't."
> "Yet you still believe in him?"
> "Yes."
> "According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol,
> science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?"
> "Nothing," the student replies. "I only have my faith."
> "Yes, faith," the professor repeats. "And that is the problem science has
> with God. There is no evidence, only faith."
> The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his
> own. "Professor, is there such thing as heat?"
> "Yes," the professor replies. "There's heat."
> "And is there such a thing as cold?"
> "Yes, son, there's cold too."
> "No sir, there isn't."
> The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room
> suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain.
> "You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited
> heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything
> called 'cold'. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we
> can't go any further after that.
> There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than
> the lowest -458 degrees. Every body or object is susceptible to study when
> it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or
> transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You
> see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot
> measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy.
> Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it."
> Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding
> like a hammer.
> "What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?"
> "Yes," the professor replies without hesitation. "What is night if it
> isn't darkness?"
> "You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of
> something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing
> light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called
> darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality,
> darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker,
> wouldn't you?"
> The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be
> a good semester. "So what point are you making, young man?"
> "Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start
> with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed."
> The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. "Flawed? Can you
> explain how?"
> "You are working on the premise of duality," the student explains. "You
> argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You
> are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can
> measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and
> magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view
> death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot
> exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the
> absence of it..."
> "Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from
> a monkey?"
> "If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes,
> of course I do."
> "Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?"
> The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where
> the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.
> "Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot
> even prove that this process is an on-going endeavour, are you not teaching
> your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?"
> The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has
> subsided.
> "To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me
> give you an example of what I mean."
> The student looks around the room. "Is there anyone in the class who has
> ever seen the professor's brain?" The class breaks out into laughter.
> "Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the
> professor's brain, touched or smelled the professor's brain?
> No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of
> empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain,
> with all due respect, sir. So if science says you have no brain, how can we
> trust your lectures, sir?"
> Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face
> unreadable.
> Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. "I guess you'll
> have to take them on faith."
> "Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,"
> the student continues. "Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?"
> Now uncertain, the professor responds, "Of course, there is. We see it
> everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man.
> It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world.
> These manifestations are nothing else but evil."
> To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does
> not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God.
> It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe
> the absence of God.
> God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does
> not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when
> there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light."
> The professor sat down.