Something has been bothering me for the past two weeks, but I have been reluctant to discuss it for two reasons: one, it makes me sound whiney and overly sensitive and two, there are people who read this blog who will know some of the people involved. However, since I receive a great deal of comfort from not only writing about the world but about myself, I’m going to let it all out here. If you don’t want to read something rather personal and probably sappy, just bypass the next few paragraphs.

First, a little personal background is in order. Outside of my biological family and the family I married into, I can count my true friends on two hands. When I say “friend”, I don’t mean the political kind of friend that so many people have; I’m talking about the people to whom I feel loyal and who have earned my trust and respect. Everyone else in my life is an acquaintance or an associate. I am very demanding of my friends and I guess that’s why I define the term so narrowly. Regardless of how this sounds, most people just don’t measure up. If you are my friend, it’s because you are a phenomenal human being.

Since late 1998, I have found myself involved with a group of volunteers who help host a computer talk show. There are about forty of us, but the number of active members number around ten. My level of participation has waxed and waned over the years, but about six months ago I decided that I really needed to jump in with both feet. My reasons for doing this were both personal and professional. First, I love being on the radio and I think I have a certain gift for doing it. Two, the people who showed up to do the radio show every week seemed to have their own agendas and just wanted to get a plug in here and there. I believed that the show would be better if a group of selfless volunteers with no agenda took the reins. After all, it’s about helping people.

As I wrote earlier this week, the “core” members of the team had a meeting with our host and one of the team members who had violated several rules, both legal and ethical. But since the gentleman is well-connected with the host, nothing was done. This led one man to quit the show entirely, which I almost did myself. However, I decided that one person was not going to make me leave and, furthermore, someone needed to stay on the team to keep the guy in line.

What bothers me is how the whole thing played out. Before the meeting, the e-mails back and forth between the members were voluminous and almost every one of them said the same thing: this guy needs to go. However, during our meeting, everyone there (with the exception of yours truly) went out of his way to say how good a friend this person was and how they hoped this friendship could continue. Never mind the fact that he lied his way out of one crime and was about to get away with terroristic threatening; let’s just all hold hands and sing. Please don’t misunderstand: it was not the action of this person that angered me; it is the fact that he did it in the name of our team and then lied to that same team. This is the height of disloyalty----you don’t help rob a bank and then rat on your fellow robbers.

So this has left me pondering several things. First, are these men so scared and desperate for friends that they will overlook an unrepentant soul (who lied to everyone there) because they need his friendship so badly? Or is this some kind of loyalty that I don’t understand? Second, if I associate with these people, what does it say about me? I can say that I am above that kind of nonsense, but, if that’s true, why does it bother me so much?

On the first point, I think the answer is yes. As I looked around the table, I realized that, for most of these men, the radio show, e-mail and chat room represents a social life of some sort. Believe me when I say that I’m not making fun of that; I, too, have known loneliness in my life. But I don’t think it’s healthy to have that kind of emotional investment in something that could, ultimately, be replaced by reruns of Rush Limbaugh.

But that still leaves the second question: why do I bother? Part of it deals with my life now. I work at night, Kelli is in school and most of our weekends are spent studying. So the radio show is kind of a diversion for me. But more than that, it challenges me to be smart. The guys on the show, while maybe socially-stunted, are all highly intelligent creatures. I feel smarter just being around them.

Nevertheless, I realize more and more that I am not one of them. I am geeky enough, surely; and as far as intelligence goes, I belong in the class. But there is something in me that doesn’t fit, and I think it goes back to how I look at friendship. None of the men remaining on the show will ever be considered my friend. There is a certain lack of clarity, a certain “wish-washy”-ness about the whole crew that turns me off. I can, and will, continue to be civil and courteous, as I always am. But there is a distance now. And it will never go away.

I told you it would be sappy.

An open letter to Alec Baldwin, George Clooney, Paula Cole, Mike Farrell, Janeane Garofalo, Dave Matthews, Madonna, Rosie O’Donnell, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon:

What a bad two years it has been for all of you. First, the man who you like to portray as both puppet and idiot was elected to the White House. Then, two years later, his party won control of both the House and the Senate. It’s almost enough to make you feel out of touch with the mainstream, isn’t it?

Then, on Sept. 11, 2001, some very bad men flew two planes into the World Trade Center and one into the Pentagon. I’m sure this made you scratch your head, since you know that evil people don’t exist; they’re just misunderstood.

And now, as we stand on the edge of combat in Iraq, you have chosen to speak out against the war. You chose to remain silent when President Clinton bombed Yugoslavia and when he ordered a cruise missle strike against an aspirin factory in Yemen. But that was different, wasn’t it? He was your kind of guy: loose with the truth, disloyal, dishonest, but a sharp dresser and full of the right kinds of words. He fit in well at your parties, and you’re still in love with his daughter. It’s all very sweet.

But this war will be different. I won’t be fought by remote control. The planes and cruise missles will be followed by real Americans with real guns who are going to KILL a man who has needed killing for a long time. And when it’s done, the people who now live in fear of him will have the right to choose their own leaders and follow their own paths in life. Since you have never known tyranny, you will be surprised to learn that freedom and democracy are actually prized by some people.

To Alec Baldwin:

We haven’t seen much of you lately. I guess slapping your ex-wife around has left you too tired to drag Jesse Helms out into the street and hang him like you suggested to David Letterman. It’s a pity, too: your tirades are always good for a laugh.

To George Clooney:

You may be from Kentucky, but you’re not from here anymore. One thing to remember though, George: reading smart lines that someone else wrote doesn’t actually make you intelligent; it just makes you an actor.

To Paula Cole:

Anti-war songs need to be catchy, Paula. To think that this generation of spoiled-brat protesters has to depend on you to provide the soundtrack to their opposition almost brings a tear to my eye. What was the name of that song you wrote? Oh, yeah---“Where have all the cowboys gone?” They’ve gone to the White House, Paula.

To Mike Farrell:

I say to you what I said to George, with one exception: playing an Army officer on TV a thousand years ago doesn’t make you an expert on foreign policy. Oh, and it doesn’t make you relevant, either.

To Janeane Garofalo:

Honey, who told you that going on “Fox and Friends” was a good idea? For the record, Fox News is where the adults go to get their news. They ask real questions and expect answers that aren’t scripted. It’s not Larry King Live or MTV News. I know you couldn’t help it, babe---you have a slingshot brain in a machine gun world.

To Dave Matthews:

Dave, Dave, Dave....do you think the potheads who constitute your fan base really take time to read your thoughts on your band’s website? Did it ever occur to you that they might just be looking for the next spliff? Now I know what “sound and fury signifying nothing” really means.

To Madonna:

Middle age is tough, ain’t it, honey? I’m glad to see that your music is becoming more Euro-centric because, when this is all over, you’re going to have to move there. Seeing you now, I know that Sean Penn is thanking his lucky stars.

To Rosie O’Donnell:

Wishing that Saddam Hussein would just “go away” is a great idea, Rosie. However, he’s not like one of your disposable assistants that you used to fire on a whim---he has an army and big, scary weapons. By the way, it was a great marketing move to hide your true self for so long, lest you lose your suburbanite following. No one guessed that you’re a lesbian. Really.

To Tim Robbins:

Tim, you’re here because of your wife/partner/fuck buddy (see below). Sorry about that. I haven’t heard you speak publicly in a while, but Susan is doing enough of that for both of you. I hate to say it, Tim, but she has the attitude of a woman who hasn’t had a good schtupping in quite some time. Could you take care of that for us, please? Thanks, tiger.

To Susan Sarandon:

Susan, I’m glad to know that having three kids and living in Manhattan gives you the ability to either bless or curse our war effort. Using your logic as a guide, if I find a Manhattan mother of four who supports our President and our nation, doesn’t she trump you? And, if I do this, will you please go away? Forever?

Well, that’s it. Thanks for reading and have a good day.

I’m back at work tonight, so I won’t get a chance to post this until Tuesday morning. There is much to discuss.

We had a radio show lunch meeting on Sunday. It was much as I thought it would be: the gentleman who sent an e-mail to a listener containing language that amounted to terroristic threatening will walk away with no punishment at all. He had sufficient time to cook up a story that, by all accounts, wouldn’t hold up in front of a jury of 10-year-olds. However, since he probably has some sort of business ties with Bob, our beloved host, everything will be swept under the rug. As I expected, all the people who had so loudly threatened to quit did not. To his credit, Bob was right when he told me to be careful whom I listened to in our little group. He didn’t have to give me that advice; I guess I still serve some function to him. Or, maybe, he was just trying to show some loyalty to someone who has always been honest with him. I’d like to think it was loyalty.

One casualty of this incident was Art. For those of you who have read this blog from the beginning, you will remember that Art and I did not get off to a good start. But as I came to know Art, I began to like him and even consider him a friend. His initial brusqueness, I think, was based in a fear of losing his position as “old man” on the show. Every organization has an “old man”---he’s the guy who, while not in charge on paper, really runs the show. He’s the senior guy who never got promoted because he was needed too badly down in the trenches. He pisses people off because he’s honest. That was Art. Problem was, I joined the show before Art but took a hiatus. So when I showed up, there was this sudden rush of “Matt’s back!” announcements. Meanwhile, Art had been hacking away at it for years. And now, when he made a stand on the side of moral clarity, he was shot down. But, like the true man he is, he did not back down but went into his exile alone. I think the show played a much bigger role in his life than it does in mine; I hope he will consider a return.


In doing research for my history posts, I am struck by the fact that some dates are almost barren of significant historical events. January 24th is just the opposite; more happened on this date than I can write about. Most of them are military events or preludes to military events. Let’s look at them in reverse chronological order.

First, the ground phase of the Gulf War began today in 1991. The Iraqis, who had been bombed non-stop for six weeks, were done before the first Allied tank rolled. Less than 96 hours later, the war was over. Baghdad was not occupied because the UN mandate only authorized the liberation of Kuwait. Now, 12 years later, I hope the pointy-headed academics realize why limited war is so dangerous.

Second, the Tet Offensive effectively ended on this date in 1968. This offensive was important for two reasons: first, it resulted in the decimation of the Viet Cong. Second, it was the beginning of the end of American involvement in the war. At first glance, these two events don’t seem to fit together very well. After all, wouldn’t it make sense that the near-total destruction of the Viet Cong would mean that American, South Vietnamese and other allied troops were closer to victory? If you limited your view to the battlefield, your observation would be correct. However, the conventional rules of warfare no longer applied in Southeast Asia by 1968. A new factor had been added: the American news media. With only three networks and total control over what the average American saw every night, the liberals in our media painted the Tet Offensive as a stunning loss for the United States. Even Walter Cronkite, supposed proponent of the war up to that point, called the entire cause into question on live national television. We didn’t know it then, but the spin doctors who now dominate the media had just been born. And because of their determination to make the war into an imperialist action, millions of people lost their God-given right of self-determination. Thank you, agenda-driven journalism.

Finally, the Zimmerman note was delivered to the U.S. State Department by British Intelligence today in 1917. If you have never heard of the Zimmerman note, your history teachers did you a great disservice by depriving you of the knowledge of a very weird, but true, story. The Zimmerman note was a telegram from the German Foreign Secretary to the German ambassador to Mexico. In it, the ambassador was instructed to inform the Mexican government that, if it joined Germany in a war against the United States, Mexico would be allowed to take back the lost territories of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. Once this telegram was released to the American public, the nation called for involvement in World War One, which had been raging in Europe since 1917. Even President Woodrow Wilson, eager to keep peace at home, was angered by the telegram. What makes this all hilarious is that the Germans actually believed that the Mexican army was capable of invading the United States. The Texas Rangers alone could’ve stopped the Mexican army in 1917.

It would seem that my shoulder is going to be OK. The doctor told me to just live my life and see if the pain continues. I have a follow-up in two weeks, but I think we are going to bypass the physical therapy. So it's back to work on Monday.


Great quote from former Deputy Undersecretary of Defense Jed Babbin: "...you know, going to war without France is like going hunting without an accordian. You just leave a lot of useless, noisy baggage behind."


The war with Iraq is going to start within one month of today. I say this for several reasons:

1. The summer in Iraq starts in April. Thus, the land war must be concluded by April 15th or there will be casualties due to heat and equipment failure.

2. Between now and April 1st, There are only five or six moonless nights. These nights are between March 1st and 6th.

3. There are now five carrier battlegroups in the region. With only ten carriers in the fleet, a concentration like this can not be maintained for more than two or three months.

4. If we hold off until the fall, the reserve units now in the area will have to be shipped back home and then recalled. This is logistically difficult at best.

Just one armchair general's view.

Forgot to mention: I've picked up a jazz habit. Problem is, I don't know the first thing about it. If anyone can point me towards some good stuff, I'm all ears. A little reasearch has taught me that there are many sub-genres of jazz, but I'm looking for stuff that, I guess, could be called "old school". Teach me.

Went to Hooters with bro and sis-in-law last night, the first time I've left the house since Tuesday. I tried to go to bed at 11, the first time I have done that since some time in the summer. So here I am at 3:35AM EST, wide awake. I have to get up at 8 for a doctor's appointment, so I'm pretty sure I'm up for the day. I'll pay for this.


NASCAR, Inc. was formed today in 1948. Believe it or not, it is still a family-owned business. The France family dominates the sport, and with good reason: NASCAR Winston Cup racing is the fastest-growing spectator sport in the United States. It still has a good 'ol boy reputation to deal with, but that is slowly fading away as a new generation of fans from all over the country join in the fun. If you have never been to a Winston Cup race, you owe it to yourself to go to at least one. No matter where you live, you are no more than a day's drive from a race. If you live on the east coast, you can drive to over half the tracks on a tank of gas. There is something awe-inspiring about watching 42 modified stock cars go by you at 180MPH. The sound and smell is unique; I have been to IRL races, and they are just not the same.

Another NASCAR-related tale occured today in 1954. It's quite a long tale, and my shoulder hurts, so I am going to let the folks at historychannel.com summarize things for you:

"The 1954 Grand National at Daytona was a microcosm of early NASCAR history. The crowds gathered to see which of the two dominant models of stock car--the fast Olds 88 or the tight handling Hudson Hornet—would take control of the race. However, the first car into the last turn of the first lap wasn’t a Hudson or an Olds, but rather Lee Petty’s Chrysler New Yorker. Unfortunately, Petty was going faster than his car was, and the New Yorker crashed through the wooden embankment at the back of the turn. Unperturbed, Petty got back in the race. Nineteen laps later his brakes failed. Driving the rest of the race with no brakes, Petty downshifted his way into a competitive position. A late stop for fuel, though, sealed his fate, as he overshot his pit and lost precious seconds. Petty crossed the finish line second to the favored Olds 88 car driven by Tim Flock. The next morning Petty, eating breakfast with his family in a hotel restaurant, learned that Flock’s Olds had been disqualified. Petty had won Daytona with no brakes."

That's racin'.

So I was leaving for work last night when I slipped and fell right in front of the house. After taking care of all the mission-critical stuff at work, Kelli took me to the emergency room. I have done some pretty heavy damage to my right shoulder, the one that was operated on in 1989. I won't know the full extent of the problem until Friday, when I go to see an orthopedic doctor. Anyway, I can't type very well without pain, so the posts are going to be brief for the next few days.

Germany sold nerve gas components to North Korea. Hey, you bunch of miserable Krauts, why don’t you sell them some Zyklon-B, too? Or some ovens? It amazes me that the anti-war crowd here claims that our upcoming incursion into Iraq is “about oil”, but yet they ignore Germany and France’s monetary investments in nations that are obvious belligerents. And Europe is so “cultured” compared to us, aren’t they? It seems more and more like a facade of civility covering up disgusting amorality.

When I was eleven or so, my cousin Gus gave my oldest brother several years’ worth of OMNI magazines. In case you don’t remember, OMNI was (is?) a science magazine for the common man. It talked about the science issues of the day in plain language that was easy to understand without leaving out any of the salient details. Most of the issues were from the late 70’s (this was in ‘81-’82), but I read every one. Only two things stick with me today. The first was the fiction section, which almost always involved at least one graphic sex description. I didn’t know it at the time, but Bob Guccione of Penthouse fame was the publisher of the mag; thus, penis and vagina references were very much in vogue. The second thing I remember is an article that stuck with me about how, one day, everything would be connected. At that time, most universities had an ARPANET connection. The thing that dazzled my 11-year old brain was the section that talked about how we would be able to order movies-on-demand in our homes. What progress!

Now, more than 20 years later, I have on-demand digital cable in my home, a broadband internet connection and a cellular phone that will work anywhere in the continental United States. In fact, these things don’t dazzle me at all---I have yet to order a movie, either on-demand or pay-per-view. But I know that I could, and maybe that’s enough.

But despite the fact that we are on the verge of truly living like the Jetsons, have we become any smarter? I vote no, and with good reason. Most of the popular search terms typed into Google involve celebrities or pornography. More people watched the last episode of “Joe Millionaire” than watched all the evening newscasts combined, network and cable. It’s as if all our wonderful communications technology only exists to feed us an unending line of crap that has absolutely no redeeming social value.

The internet and television are not the only culprits here. Turn on morning radio and you will find the audio-only version of what was on TV the night before. Howard Stern talks about “banging” his girlfriend, a woman young enough to be his daughter. Bob and Tom have on a steady stream of comedians whose only real talent is avoiding FCC censorship. Locally, we have Bob Sokoler rehashing his viewing habits from the previous night between farm reports. You can listen to NPR, but only if you’re a socialist or need a wakeup call as to how your tax money is being pissed away.

And I am not innocent. While I do not watch television more than 5 hours a week, I have a radio on during every waking moment. When I drive home tomorrow morning, I will tune in to hear Howard berate Scott the Engineer or harp on Baba-Booie about his giant teeth. And I will laugh. But do I need that much escapism in my life? Wouldn’t I be better served by hearing a debate on eliminating the dividend tax? While the latter might be much less interesting, wouldn’t it make me a better-informed citizen?

I think we are all victims of our own prosperity. While much of the world works all day, every day, to survive, we have become a society that works just as hard in the pursuit of pleasure because we have so much disposable time and income. And because of that, I think we are losing focus on what created this society: hard work, sacrifice and citizen participation.

Sorry about the rambling. I have a lot on my mind right now.

A group of liberals plan to start their own radio network. You know, there's a reason why there aren't more liberals on talk radio: NO ONE WHO HAS A CLUE WANTS TO HEAR FROM THEM. And now, they plan on 14 hours of talk a day. Excuse me for a minute: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Gotta love 'em----they still don't get it.

We're having quite a bit of weather here. It started on Saturday night when Kelli and I went to dinner. On the way there, what looked like rain was falling. Once we got to the restauraunt, I realized it was ice. By the time we finished dinner, the car, the parking lot and everything else was covered by a thin sheet of the stuff. We went straight home, where the hard pellets were pounding on the windows and doors. By Sunday morning, some of the highways in Kentucky were closed. Bob and I were the only two on the radio show, which made for an interesting experience. That will probably never happen again; hope you were listening.


Oh, the radio show. Big, big problems there. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that the "core" team is breaking up over a threatening e-mail that one of our team members sent to a listener. Bob is willing to let the whole thing go (because, I believe, he has business ties with the offending team member), but everyone else wants him gone. When everything is said and done, it's Bob's show and he can do as he pleases. I was originally very angry about the incident, but after thinking about it overnight, I came to a "decision fork": I could quit and go on with my life, OR I can stay on and hammer the offending team member every chance I get. I chose to stay. But I'm going to push the limits of what is acceptable behavior. We'll see if Bob's standards hold up.

What this incident has taught me is that everyone finds a way to be part of something larger than themselves. A few of the guys on the show have a huge emotional investment in this thing we do; it took events of the past 72 hours to make me see that. As Bob said, this is not about any one person but rather about serving the community in some small way. It's easy to lose sight of that sometimes.

I am continually amazed at the mainstream media's coverage of Europe's (i.e. France and Germany) opposition to action against Iraq. Why should Europe be considered a standard-bearer in any way? Is there something in modern European history to which we can point and say, "Ah, there is an example to emulate!"? Am I missing something? After all, the two -isms that plagued the 20th century, Communism and Facism, came from Europe. Modern atheism came from Europe. Modern socialism, and all the economic woes that come with it, came from Europe. As I have said before, Europe is the past. And it has no future.


By the way, how many armored divisions does it take to defend Paris? No one knows; it's never been tried.


The battle of Kasserine Pass occured today in 1943 in North Africa. It was the first defeat for American troops in combat in living memory and showed the American public that the Germans had fielded what was, perhaps, the finest army the United States had ever faced.

By the way, I have turned off the blog counter. It was making me self-conscious, but it also made me realize that I already knew who read the blog and who didn't. I am amazed, though, that this blog appears in the top five returns of many searches on Google.

George Noory had an interesting guest on tonight, a man who worked for NASA for 23 years. He claimed that we are in real danger of losing the International Space Station (ISS). The ISS, being in low earth orbit, must be occasionally boosted by visiting spacecraft. Up until now, this has been accomplished most of the time by one of the shuttles. The Russians do visit the ISS, but not as often. Now, the Russians claim that this year’s budget only allows two more Soyuz flights. According to some vague rules about not supporting terrorism, we can not pay for more Russian flights because they are helping Iran develop a nuclear power plant. So, ISS may only have nine months or so left before its orbit becomes unstable. Another indirect victim of terrorism?


I heard that phrase again tonight. You’ve heard it, too: “This war is about oil”. My knee-jerk response is to say that this phrase is a gross over-simplification of the issues involved. It is also untrue, but right-thinking people already know that. So, instead of making my argument, let me put the ball in the hands of the opposition. Some of you reading this are against this upcoming incursion into Iraq. And you believe that it’s about oil. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to summarize why you believe the above statement to be true. Please don’t insult my intelligence by making the “Bush->oil man->war->oil” connection. I want evidence from you, dear reader, based upon historical precedent, that the United States has invaded and occupied a nation simply to use that nation’s natural resources. I would also like for you to name a middle eastern nation where the oil supply is NOT nationalized but is instead controlled by a western nation. My e-mail address can be found on the left of this page. I will publish anything promising that is sent my way. I’ll even leave your name out of it if you like.

There's a lot to talk about this morning: a Peggy Noonan column on abortion, a letter from PETA about the Palestinians using donkeys to set off bombs, and a heart-wrenching story about murder in the name of honor in Jordan. But I'm not in the mood for any of that.


My dad is 70 today. He was born in 1933, the worst year (economically) of the Great Depression. He is one of eight children (a ninth child died in infancy). His oldest brother, Tony, died in 2001. It was one of three times I have ever seen my father cry. It was the only time I was not the cause of those tears. I always saw Tony as my uncle; I never realized that he was dad's big brother until that day.

When he was around four, dad was hit by a car on River Road in Louisville. He had a serious head injury, but recovered from it completely. That was the year of the '37 flood, the worst disaster the city had seen. One of dad's earliest memories is of hiding from the doctor who came to give everyone injections to protect them from the bacteria and funguses that hide in river mud. His father and uncles broke into flooded grocery stores to steal food for their families. At that time, the National Guard would shoot looters on sight. But that's what men do when times are tough.

Dad was eight when the United States entered World War Two. He and his brothers were at the movies when the news came. He cut a map of the world out of a magazine and followed the spread of the Axis powers in those dark early days when victory seemed impossible. He wondered who would invade the U.S. first. Rationing came to the nation then, but dad said he never noticed; they were so poor to begin with that nothing they bought was rationed. He was twelve when the war ended in 1945---he was at the movies again, but this time they stopped the reel and turned on the lights.

Dad grew up in a house where almost no emphasis was placed on education. So when he dropped out of high school at 16, no one tried to stop him. As long as he earned his keep and didn't get into trouble, his father didn't seem to care. But unbeknownest to any of them, there was another war on the way, and it would change my father forever.

Knowing that he was going to be drafted into the Army, dad joined the Navy in January, 1952. He went to boot camp at a converted Marine Corps brig out in the California desert. His RCPO (recruit chief petty officer) had been a Marine during World War Two and a prisoner of the Japanese. He was tough in the ways that none of us understand today. His Company Commander was an old reserve chief who had been called back into the service to train new sailors. He had owned his own business in civilian life, but had to sell it because no one else was there to take the reins. Dad said he was old, bitter and broke and took it out on the men he commanded.

In the truncated pipeline of training men for war, dad was off the coast of Korea aboard the USS Floyd B. Parks by May, 1952. He barely escaped service in the destroyer's engine room and trained with the ship's electricians. Bravery during an electrical fire earned him an early promotion and a ticket to Electrician's Mate "A" School in California. It was during this time that he completed his high school diploma by actually attending a local high school at night. Out of a class of 32 sailors, only four men stuck it out. When they graduated, they wore their full dress uniforms, ribbons and all, and got their diplomas with the teenagers. He was also the honorman of his "A" School class (the man with the highest grades).

He got out of the active duty Navy in 1956, but stayed in the reserves until right after the Cuban Missle Crisis in 1962. In 1957, he met Patti Motschmann. They were married in October, 1958. Like so many young, married, devout Catholics of their generation, they set about pro-creating: Terri came in 1959, Jerry in 1961, Julie in 1962, Ken in 1963. I sauntered in late to dance in 1971.

And so his life now goes into its eighth decade. His is healthy and well, and longetivity is on his side: his father lived to 95. But I see him now as fallible and frail, a phenomenon that has only come about in the past ten years. I now find myself teaching him more often than he teaches me, which is strangely uncomfortable. We talk politics a lot, but his feelings are becoming more and more isolationist and apocalyptic. It is hard to steer around sometimes. But in a world that has perverted the word into a meaningless tagline, he remains one of the few people I truly consider a hero for his efforts and successes. He will never read this, and it's just as well---it would make him feel uncomfortable. One day, he will know.

GENERAL ORDER

UNITED STATES NAVY DEPARTMENT,

Washington, February 18, 1846

It having been represented to the Department, that confusion arises from the use of the words "Larboard" and "Starboard," in consequence of the similiarity of sound, the word "Port" is hereafter to be substituted for "Larboard."

GEORGE BANCROFT


I know you always wanted to know.

In an attempt to stay relevant as old age creeps up on her, Madonna is planning to make a strong anti-war statement in an upcoming video:

"AMERICAN LIFE is about freedom of speech," claims an insider. "It examines not only war, greed and ego, but it's self-reflective also. Madonna rejects her 'Material Girl' image once and for all, and warns of life in a material world."


I'm sooooooo glad that she's over being materialistic. Please send the cash here. Two words: Stupid Bitch.

Quote from a bombadier on a B-52 (via the Discovery Wings Channel): "Strategic bombing is what ends wars. It's what makes the enemy give up. You can show me all these new weapons and say 'Hey, I can send a bomb through this guy's front door' and I say that's great, but I like the idea of targeting the house and then leveling the whole block. People can't deal with that. It's ugly."

"Birth of a Nation" opened today in 1915. It was the first full-length feature film released to a wide audience, and it is also one of the most racist films ever made. It told the story of the Civil War, Reconstruction and the birth of the KKK. D.W. Griffith, the director, was from the LaGrange, Kentucky (right outside of Louisville) and was the son a Confederate General.

The film had a cast of almost 10,000 people. Parts of it were highly accurate; other parts were just made up. Since reading about the film, and knowing that the KKK was "re-founded" in 1920, I can't help but wonder if the film played a part in recruiting people for the "new" organization.

The website utility that keeps track of how many people read this prattle crashed two days ago. When their system came back up, they had lost my account and all the info associated with it. I set everything back up and I remembered the approximate number of hits the site had, but all the interesting stuff is gone. What I am suprised at is how many people stumble on the site as a result of Google searches. One person actually did a search for "dattblog". How many people could possibly use that word? I was pretty sure I made it up out of whole cloth. Guess not.


The Beatles arrived in the US today in 1964. All four were under 25, and yes, they were more popular than Jesus Christ for a while.

I had a thought while I was at work, and, at first, I almost dismissed it. However, I think it's worth exploring. I have never heard this mentioned anywhere else. Here we go:

After Colin Powell's presentation before the U.N. Security Council, there is little doubt that Iraq is hiding chemical weapons from the U.N. weapons inspectors. It would seem that the next course of action would be obvious to all right-thinking people. But France and Germany continue to hold out, wanting more and more time for inspections, as if it will make a difference. At first glance, the reason for their hesitancy is obvious: they have financial interests with current regime in Iraq. A democratic government without a centralized economy might open up the oil and industrial markets to competition. This can't be a pleasant prospect to a country like Germany where unemployment is now eleven percent.

But I believe there may be something far more sinister at work. Consider this: as we speak, Iraq poses a major threat to only one other Middle Eastern nation---Israel. In fact, it can be reasoned that one of the reasons for our quick action in the area is based on our support for Israel. France will send troops to the Ivory Coast and Germany will send forces to Bosnia, but neither will support a move that, indirectly, would be beneficial to Israel. Does anyone smell anti-semitism here? Both France and Germany have long, long histories of outright hostility towards Jews. Both countries have very large nationalistic movements that are hostile to foreigners. Are these two countries' leaders trying to satisfy those movements? Perhaps it just goes to prove that Europe has an embarrassing past and no future.

An estimated 15,000 people gathered today in Houston to honor the seven Columbia astronauts. President Bush, a man who does not have to manufacture his emotions as so many before him have, was visibly moved during his speech. The fact that the causes of this mishap will be discovered and the wrongs remedied in the future does little to asuage the grief of those who will never see their loved ones again. The exploration of the universe will continue, but seven families will never be whole again.

In the past 72 hours or so, I have read more than one opinion that goes something like this: "Why are we grieving these seven people more than we grieve other people? What about people who die in airline crashes or drunk-driving mishaps? Are their lives somehow less worthy of our sadness?" It is a point that is worthy of consideration. In fact, I will add another log to the fire: last week, four Americans died in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan. Their deaths were reported on the news, but only as a sidebar. Were these men, who volunteered to serve their country, not heroes? Did they not sacrifice so that our lives could be lived in peace?

I thought alot this weekend about the Columbia tragedy and our nation's response to it. Part of our grief, I think, comes from the shock at actually seeing smouldering debris drop out of the sky onto the plains and forests of Texas. It was right there, on TV, over and over again because our 24-hour news cycle could offer no explanation, only emotion. And it had happened before in full view of the world. After the Challenger disaster in 1986, the entire shuttle program was cast in the bright light of scrutiny. When those infamous O-rings were found to be at fault, our nation wiped its collective brow and sighed with relief: it would never, ever happen again. But here we are again and the shock, I believe, is that much greater.

There is another reason why we grieve so much over these seven. If you go to any grade school in this nation and poll the ten year-olds about their plans for the future, a large percentage of them (boys and girls) will say that they want to be astronauts. Even now, over thirty years after the last human left the moon, going into space still holds us spell-bound. It is the last place that we can't explore by buying a plane ticket and taking some time off work. The people who do it are not only brave, but smart, fit and disciplined as well. In many ways, our astronauts represent what we all could have been if we had only worked harder in school and not spent so much time partying and putting off our plans for the future. They are diverse, too: the all-white boys' club that was NASA in the 1960's is gone forever. They are us.

Finally, there is the promise of space. Look at the popularity of the "Star Trek" franchise and you will see why exploring the cosmos still enthralls us. In the future, mankind has its "stuff" together. There are problems, and occasionally we have to fight for what we believe in, but the future is always bright. And the writers at Paramount aren't really fantasizing, either: even during the depths of the Cold War in 1975, American astronauts and Soviet cosmonauts met in orbit and shook hands. For that brief time, hope for the future abounded. And now, as the International Space Station takes shape above us, it is the Russians who are taking up the slack while our fleet is grounded.

The lives of the seven we remembered today in Houston are not worth any more or less than any other human beings on our planet. What makes them special, and worthy of our grief, is what they represented: our better selves, a brighter future for all mankind, and the last vestiges of the clear, can-do American spirit. And so, when we saw the smoky trails against the blue Texas sky, a little bit of all us went with them.

There's a picture on the Coast-to-Coast AM website of a "debris site" in Texas. In the background, you can see a throng of people just standing around. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT TO SEE THERE? AN ARM OR A LEG? DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW? IS YOUR LIFE SO EMPTY THAT YOU HAVE TO GO LOOK AT EVERY DEATH SCENE LIKE SOME KIND OF FUCKING GHOUL? GO THE FUCK HOME!!!

Very interesting article in the L.A. Times (yes, I do read it) by Janis Ian. Ian is the voice behind the painful song "At Seventeen". According to her, sales of her merchandise went up over 300% when she put her music on her website so it could be downloaded for FREE. Is anyone listening out there, or is the record industry too busy buying gold for P. Diddy's fingers and getting Britney's bikini line waxed?

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

"High Flight", by John G. McGee, December, 1941