The average American anti-war protester, by paying his taxes, contributes more to killing members of al Qaeda than 10 voluntary, armed, die-hard Islamo-fascists do to killing American troops.
Author: Hoplite0352 (Page 16 of 27)
Posting has been slow due to some unforeseen problems. For reasons I’m not sure I’m not ready to discuss yet, I may not be sitting for the Bar. Then again, I might. Hell, I don’t know.
So, I’ve taken a couple days off of Bar study and will continue tomorrow. I’m in a situation where if I do not study for the Bar and resolve the problem I will be behind the power curve. However, if I do study for it and cannot resolve this situation, then I’m losing time I need to be out pumping gas or something to pay the bills.
So I’ve gotten the rug pulled out from under me at the last minute. Who cares? It has cost me 2 days of study time, but not a single thing more. It doesn’t take from what I’ve accomplished this semester, or in this life. I had a moment today where I looked at the position my ex-wife is in, then the fact that I’m sleeping on the floor in a ratty 2-bedroom apartment barely able to pay my bills. Cops were over about 0300 across the street in response to some gunfire. Nice. After probably 15 minutes of sitting here feeling sorry for myself and leaking a little sympathy juice a few thoughts entered my mind:
The first is that sure, I’ve been kicked back a few years in “status”, but not in stories or experience. My story is but in its opening chapters. How interesting would Ben Franklin’s story be if it didn’t begin with him coming to America penniless because he got rolled by a couple of hotties? Still interesting? Yeah okay, you win. But the second and more important story is something I’m sure you’d approve of John (since you’ve probably pointed it out to me at some point)
Two monks were making a pilgrimage to venerate the relics of a great Saint. During the course of their journey, they came to a river where they met a beautiful young woman — an apparently worldly creature, dressed in expensive finery and with her hair done up in the latest fashion. She was afraid of the current and afraid of ruining her lovely clothing, so asked the brothers if they might carry her across the river.
The younger and more exacting of the brothers was offended at the very idea and turned away with an attitude of disgust. The older brother didn’t hesitate, and quickly picked the woman up on his shoulders, carried her across the river, and set her down on the other side. She thanked him and went on her way, and the brother waded back through the waters.
The monks resumed their walk, the older one in perfect equanimity and enjoying the beautiful countryside, while the younger one grew more and more brooding and distracted, so much so that he could keep his silence no longer and suddenly burst out, “Brother, we are taught to avoid contact with women, and there you were, not just touching a woman, but carrying her on your shoulders!”
The older monk looked at the younger with a loving, pitiful smile and said, “Brother, I set her down on the other side of the river; you are still carrying her.”
Now, I’ve been knocked back by the divorce. I may well be knocked back by this new development (Waiting is the hardest part). So yeah, I’ve had my setbacks, but there’s one thing I have never in my life lost faith in: myself. Even in my saddest days I’ve always believed my best days were ahead of me. I may well be a Pollyanna; I’m very likely to some degree delusional. A large part of my depression has been intimately connected to my belief in myself and the lack of doing anything about it. But there’s something incredible in each and every one of us. The only thing that separates me from the rest is that I haven’t lost my belief in that. So yeah, I’m a renegade. A renegade of self love (yeah, let’s not go with that).
But you know why I believe in myself? Because I’m moving this machine around and I’ve seen what it can do. It’s the machine that swam the reservoir in the middle of November. It’s the machine that lead some of the most incredible human beings I’ve ever known in a warzone. It’s the machine that has never stayed down. It’s the machine that is pressing through this Bar study and running 10 miles tomorrow.
There are a LOT more setbacks in my future. But as Santiago said, “A man can be destroyed, but not defeated.” So far, I’m neither. This guy…fucking Unbreakable. Also, kind of a prick. It’s a grunt thing. All hail the infantry.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K626gMvu2ds&feature=related
My kid is smart enough to say it. In case she isn’t enough of an authority, watch this vid:
I’m all for letting women breastfeed in public, but NO.
Bar Tally: 90 Hours
Now this is cool. Thanks Paul Zimmerman! The money quote:
You have chosen to risk your lives for the defense of this country. I will not insult you by saying that you are dedicated to selfless service — it is not a virtue in my morality. In my morality, the defense of one’s country means that a man is personally unwilling to live as the conquered slave of any enemy, foreign or domestic. This is an enormous virtue.
Bar Tally: 77 Hours
The army is no longer allowing troops to use PMags, a bigger advance in reliability for the M4/16 than gas piston operation.
Memorial Day always sits poorly with me. Allow me to explain:
I’ve never been a fan of Black/Women’s/ect. History Month. Seems it cheapened a group to give them a month as if they don’t deserve their fair due on each day. So it is with Memorial Day. Am I supposed to pull out my list of dead friends on one day each year to thank them? Those men that made their mark walk with me with every step of every day. They keep me humble. They shame me into action when I am weak. Those sons of bitches force me off the couch to not waste the gift they’ve given me, be it internal empowerment, security, freedom to worship (or in my case to never take to my knees), knowledge, or the fact that no man dares call me a subject. My days are often spent like a terrible Family Circus comic, but instead of Billy’s grandpa looking down from a cloud smiling, there are hundreds of ghosts over my shoulder watching my every move and demanding bold action.
Don’t stop with those fallen within our borders with a uniform on. Many of those vets among us are walking dead. No one comes back the same. It isn’t only those with an American uniform we should be grateful for. I’m thankful to those Greek veterans, spear in hand, that faced down the Persians. I’m thankful for those Franks that stood against tyranny at Tours. I’m thankful for those brave men who stood against despotism in Rhodesia. Imperialist as it may sound to most, I’m thankful for the brave 130 Brits who stood down the Zulu Kingdom at Rorke’s Drift who advanced Western Civilization against barbarism and unchecked power.
I am just as grateful for those brave men who didn’t carry a weapon. In his writings about the Spanish American War, Teddy Roosevelt once said that the greatest honor is in the performance of duty, and not the accident of valor. Picking up a weapon can be satisfying, but may not be the best one can do for the effort. I think of John Basilone whose greatest courage may well have been to come home to sell war bonds when he wanted to be off at the front. He died when he returned walking tanks through a minefield on Iwo Jima. To Nathan Hale. I thank those brave men and women who stood to advance knowledge when to do so may well be their death. They didn’t wear a uniform, but they were fighting in a war all the same. I have found moral courage twice as rare as physical courage in this world and I thank those brave souls who had the testicular fortitude to take a stand. To Ayaan Hirsi Ali. To Chris Hitchens.
And to a good man we lost today. As a nation we are poorer, for we lost a throwback today: the rare breed that built this country and kept the Soviets away. We’re losing them and if we do not emulate and take with us their strength then Chesty will have had it right when he said, “Our Country won’t go on forever, if we stay soft as we are now. There won’t be any America because some foreign soldiery will invade us and take our women and breed a hardier race!” Jack, you taught me about endurance. You taught me about the power of two hands and what they can create, when my own hands mostly destroy. Thank you. Try not to push too hard as one of those new ghosts over my shoulder.
So no, today isn’t Memorial Day. It’s Monday. I’ll be doing more Bar Review thank you. Not feeling like some Slipknot? Deal.
Bar Tally: 69 hours
Let’s see if I can fit a combat nap in here:
Dragon will be making its approach to the International Space Station at 0430. SpaceX will be running a live webcast.
On a side note, I really hate the Rule Against Perpetuities. It’s double frustrating to study since Idaho doesn’t even concern itself with such silliness.
Bar Tally: 58 Hours.
Bar Tally: 50 Hours
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