Blogging, shmlogging (v.2)

The CJCS and Secretary of Defense spent time yesterday discussing the future of “don’t ask, don’t tell” in front of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

A couple of my favorite miltary bloggers (cdr salamander) and my longtime friend, mentor and shipmate at at “I Like the Cut of His Jib” have been critical of how Admiral Mullen delivered his message. Unless I missed something, their criticism was far less about his position on “DADT” and far more a critique on how Mullen delivered his message.

Let’s set aside the nuanced discussion about the merits of the Chairman’s rhetorical or leadership style (because the farther I get from my active service, the less energy I have to reading the tea leaves of flag and general officer pronouncements) and focus on the real issue: how to treat gay and lesbian members of the armed forces.

Don’t ask don’t tell –and the officially sanctioned rejection of homosexuality that preceded it– are as useless as sails, hardtack and muskets in a modern military force.

The US armed forces under Truman were a decade ahead of the rest of American society in setting the stage for merit-based environment when segregation was still the plan of the day in America. What better way to honor that tradition by creating a new model of inclusion for our gay and lesbian shipmates?

I know all the jokes. I know all the slang. I’ve slung more than my fair share of both around. Like many other callow attitudes and behaviors from my teens and twenties, I’m now over the quaint notion that the the quality of anybody’s service can be diminished –or enhanced– based on which sex they are attracted to. All the discussions about berthing, about unit cohesion, about the demands of stressful working conditions in close quarters, about fomenting an environment of conversion and seduction are red herrings (and if they’re not…then we better revisit the idea of women serving at sea while we’re at it, because it’s surely not the gays and lesbians that get them pregnant while underway).

Gays and lesbians have been serving –and fighting– honorably for as long as there have been men and women under arms. That they can’t serve honorably while openly loving who they choose hasn’t made sense to me for a long time.

Here’s who I want to work and serve with in any professional environment: a trusted colleague, an inspirational leader, a trustworthy subordinate. Which set of human plumbing appeals to any of those groups in their personal life just isn’t germane. Professional performance is the only thing that matters.

…assorted stuff; books, software, books about software and electronics…

…assorted stuff; books, software, books about software and electronics…

New York Times magazine item from 17 January 2010:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/17/magazine/17FOB-Medium-t.html?ref=magazine

Oh yeah. I got me one of those most helpful reviews:
http://tinyurl.com/ylcv4ct
(links to a customers reviews of Photoshop Elements 8 Missing Manual on Amazon).

…assorted stuff; books, software, books about software and electronics…

…and it’s been a while since watching an Ohio State football game in the early hours of a new year didn’t require a triple dose of Tums, or an extra large crying towel.

The five best things about the Buckeyes 2010 Rose Bowl win over the Oregon Ducks:

1. For Lee Corso, it wasn’t sufficient to don the duck mascot head as he made his ESPN Gameday pregame prediction: he also had to stick the quacking duck lips in his mouth and quack. I’m sure the denizens of Buckeye nation can offer elegant suggestions to Corso about where to place those lips now…
2. Oregon’s endless parade of stupid uniforms. The 2010 Rose Bowl edition –complete with duck feather decals on the shoulder pads– brought this Nike-sponsored silliness to a new low.
3. LaGarrette Blount’s sucker punch of Boise State’s Bryon Hout after the Duck’s season opener. While I’m sure God doesn’t care about college football (no matter how many coaches and athletes think otherwise), who can deny a certain karmic balance in when a Blount red zone fumble late in the third quarter becomes the delimiter between Oregon hanging in and Ohio State closing the deal.
4. Oregon coach Chip Kelly’s decision to interpret his suspension of Blount “for the season” as NOT including their bowl appearance.
5. 21 of 22 starters Oregon starters from states that are not Oregon.

Jim Tressel prepared the Buckeyes well, put in an uncharacteristically aggressive game plan, and Terrell Pryor set the stage for a 2010 season that should prepare OSU for a run at a BSC title a year from now. They did so many things right. That they did so against a very unlikeable opponent made it so much sweeter.

Hang on Sloopy, indeed.

…assorted stuff; books, software, books about software and electronics…

…I noticed that Google (at least in the US) is displaying Veterans Day art on its homepage logo today. I’ll stand corrected, but I think this is the first time they’ve done so(I was wrong!)…Good for them: http://www.google.com/logos/

So:
All you grunts, jarheads, squids, zoomies and coasties:
Enjoy your day. Thanks for your service, and for offering me the opportunity to serve with you. That time passed far too quickly, and is distressingly far in the past!

Veterans Day offers a chance to consider the contributions of all who served: those who have completed their service and those still in uniform…conscript or volunteer…during peacetime or at war…during “popular” or “unpopular” engagements…officer or enlisted…for a career or for the minimum obligation. Consider a brief pause today to reflect on the contributions of everybody who who answered the call to serve (or who simply complied with a citizen’s legal obligation after receiving a letter than began with the word “Greetings”…)

Whatever your politics, and whether you served or not, you probably share part of your life with a loved one, a friend, a neighbor or a a colleague who has. The spirit of service embodied in this day reflects not only their accomplishments in the military, but the communities, families and workplaces made richer from the experiences that veterans bring to the mix.

The armed forces are made up of a wonderful mosaic of all Americans. The caliber of the creative, hard-working and self-sacrificing men and women who serve is hard to grasp if you haven’t been exposed to it.

As with any holiday, today we will confront clearly politicized, overtly mawkish and utterly commercial reminders of the day…each missing the point in its own way. Go find your own happy place in the within these, and reflect on the amazing spirit of service that is the foundation of the day.

And for those still serving: may your remaining days in uniform be safe, and your return home come soon.

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germany, 1952

iraq, 2008

korea, 1953

japan, 1986

philippines, 1979

This has not been a great year for the pets in our house. Not because we’re bad pet owners, but because the youngest of them is a 10-year old dog, and our most recent (of four…only one remains) cat acquisition took place in 1994. Like the people they share the house with, they simply aren’t getting any younger.

As when I discussed the loss of our Weimaraner in April, I fully realize that there is no way to talk at length about your pets and sound sane. Don’t care though; gonna share a few thoughts about Stanley, who died on October 13th.

Stan (Fall 1993 - October 13, 2009): not as scary as he looked...

Stanley was part of our family for 16 years, and he was as solid and reliable as a friend (with two legs or four) as you could ever hope to have.

Early in 1994, as we prepared to move from our old house to our current one, my wife and then four-year old daughter returned from Petsmart one Saturday to announce a remarkable find at the SPCA cat rescue display: a one-eyed Maine Coon kitten named Stanley. He’d lost his left eye from lack of post-injury care by his first owner, who gave up on Stan and placed him in the tender mercies of the network of central Maryland’s cat rescuers. After marveling at somebody in the store who complained loudly that he shouldn’t be on display because his missing eye was “grotesque”, we filled out the paperwork, and over the next two weeks passed the phone muster and home visit tests of his doting foster parent. Stan joined our family in late February 1994, when he was about 6 months old (he arrived concurrently with another cat from that show; our “alternate” pick in case we didn’t pass the Maine Coon rescue screening; I’m still not sure how we ended up both…and the other one’s missing ear is a separate story).

Stan loved potato chips, watermelon, popcorn and tomatoes. If you were making salad, you could count on Stan to appear and demand his share of the tomatoes. He was the only one of our four cats who got along with all three of the others. Like all cats, he enjoyed the sun, but he also enjoyed letting his fur get blown on windy days. Like other Maine Coons, he didn’t meow so much as bleat. Stan was a multiple-year winner of various awards at our local springtime kids’ pet show: “prettiest eye”, “biggest cat”, “most unusual”, “longest fur” and “best cat”. He enjoyed (or at least patiently tolerated) the company of the dogs and kids, and was as fine a cat as you could ever hope to have.

Stan: kids and dogs were OK by him. With our daughter and dog, c. 1996

In 2004, he developed diabetes, and uncomplainingly accepted his insulin shots every 12 hours for the five years that followed. He spent much of the last two years living in the basement, venturing upstairs only to beg for tomato or demand a door be opened so he could go outside. This summer he started to have major difficulties walking; sixteen years had added arthritis to list of his ailments.

Stanley the one-eyed Maine Coon cat and Nephi the Weimaraner: 2006

On his last morning, he was unable to stand, walk and suffered a series of seizures. For the first time in his life he didn’t use a litter box. After 16 years it was time to make the decision that this one-eyed, diabetic, arthritic tough guy couldn’t make for himself. Through the serendipity of work and college schedules, all three of us were with him at the vet for recently familiar ritual (this was the third time we’ve done this in the last four years). Sign the papers. The sedative. The “euthanasia solution”. The departure of a trusting, loyal and wonderful family friend. The return home to join the two other cats we’ve buried at the edge of our woods.

Stan left us the way he joined us: tough, dignified and happy to be in our company. There’s no shortage of bad decisions I may have made in the last 16 years…but picking him was a winner from start to finish. Of course, it figures our sole surviving cat is the one who hates me. But that’s another story…

And then there was one: Jessie (2007)

Carroll County, Maryland contains eight incorporated municipalities. One of them, Hampstead, is governed by a Haven Shoemaker, a local lawyer who delights in three things:

1. The sound of his own voice
2. The sight of his name in print
3. Mewling about how hard it is to be a small-town mayor

One of his recurring themes is that his town’s employees are universally hardworking and that the employment rolls of state and federal governments are filled with folks asleep at the switch and waiting for retirement.
Don’t take my word for it. See the the little gem he offered in February 2009. which is available online.

My response to some of the notable shortcomings in his argument then are available here:
http://punditry.org/squawk/?p=93

Since then, he has gathered a sprinkling of national press (mostly lockstep laudatory commentary by conservative pundits) after raising the Gadsden Flag over his citizens’ city hall in symbolic protest of –well, in protest of something– although I’m not really sure exactly what. Basking in the glow of this nationwide praise, he wrote about this great act of defiance , and once again took a gratuitous swipe at state and federal employees (and presumably county employees too, as he reminds us that education is among the services not offered by his town). While I still can’t tell what he’s really complaining about, I’m positive that failed to fully research the history of the Gadsden Flag.

The lack of meaningful political commentary in Carroll County means the entire county gets periodic doses of his narrow views…presumably as he gets tired of being a put-upon small-town mayor and eyes the loftier heights of a county-level elective office.

This small town mayor continues to lug a big chip on his shoulder(linked image is content from the online edition of theCarroll County Times). His issues with the state and federal governments remain rather unclear. Is he unhappy that they provide services that his municipality doesn’t have to? Perhaps. Or perhaps he’s simply unhappy. Who can figure out if he wants less or more help from either level (or simply his perceived fair share), but it seems he has been unable to play well with either.

We know he holds state and federal employees in equally low regard; he has regularly painted them with a broad brush, and his view of them is far from flattering.

Hizzoner may have reached a rhetorical low with his recent adoption of the Gadsden flag as a tool for symbolic protest of —well, of something.

The Gadsden flag’s history is deeply rooted in the sea service traditions of the U.S. Marine Corps and the U.S. Navy in the Revolutionary War, when it was also adopted as a symbol of colonial unity. Since September 11, 2001, it has been flying again from the rigging of U.S. naval ships.

The mayor of Hampstead diminishes this proud history when he uses it as a prop to air his political grievances. Maybe he’ll get reacquainted with the historical record of the symbols he chooses before his next act of political grandstanding.
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