JB on the Rocks

How to choose a CCW gun

2012-02-01T15:41:00.001-07:00

Pretty good snark, that.

A debt to settle

2012-02-01T10:08:00.002-07:00

I'm constantly amazed, and humbled, when I think about all the things that I've managed to teach my dogs... then I compare that to all the things THEY have taught me.

There's a debt to be paid.

I just hope they'll accept boiled chicken and belly rubs as payment.

Life and Luck

2012-01-29T11:33:00.002-07:00

I was reading through some old emails yesterday, cleaning out stuff I didn't want to keep, recalling conversations long past, and occasionally asking myself "What, exactly, was the purpose for keeping this email?"

One that got my brain working was a discussion an old pal and I had over pictures from my mountain climbing vacation to the Alps a couple years ago.

In March of 2008, my climbing pal Aaron called me one night, asking "Hey, what do you think about making a trip to the Alps to climb Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn?" I agreed after three-tenths of a second of consideration, because it sounded like fun. After all, I was unemployed at the time, living on a little consulting work, a little teaching, and a lot of dipping into savings. Given those circumstances, who wouldn't jump at the chance to spend two weeks in Switzerland and Italy and France, climbing mountains?

The trip was great, and we took plenty of pictures. Posted those pics on line, and my friend remarked on one of them "Wow, how did you get so lucky to be able to do this?"

Lucky? No. No luck. Luck had nothing to do with it.

Being able to make that trip was a combination of hard work, sacrifice, and the choices I made in life.

I explained this to my friend, and he replied that he worked hard, he sacrificed, and he didn't have that choice. He would never have the chance to go to the Alps. Here's my reply to him:

"Yeah, but you don't see what I'm saying. I made the choice after college to NOT get married right away and start having kids. You did. You got married right after college, and had three children before you were 30. I didn't. Now, you may never get to see the Alps. You may never have the chance to take two weeks and go climbing, skiing, and hiking in the mountains. That's the result of the choices you made. In contrast, I'll never have the chance to change my child's diaper, watch her take her first steps, teach a son how to play catch, see them off to school for the first day. I'll never have a 'World's Best Dad' coffee mug. I'll never know what it is like to question my daughter's date, or what it's like to stay up past midnight, waiting for the sound of a teenager trying to sneak in late. I'll never walk my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day, or hold my grandson. Those are all things that your choices will bring to you. I made my choices, and because of them I get to go to the Alps on a whim. But there are other things that my choices will deny me, because that's how it works."

We are the sum total of our choices in life. Each choice has an upside and a downside.

Luck has nothing to do with it.

Tim Allen, please call your office

2012-01-22T13:43:00.002-07:00

I'm the kind of guy that preps the coffee the night before. Grind the beans, fill the water, set the timer. There are few things that make a morning tolerable than the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It's what drives me to throw off the covers, pad down stairs in my pajamas, and let the dogs into the back yard.

So last night, I set about the routine. And as I went to fill the reservoir, I noticed that my feet were getting wet. That didn't seem right. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a line in the Kitchen Sink Function Manual that says "there should not be any water pouring out from under the faucet."

This morning, I drank the coffee, opened the cabinet under the sink, and turned on the faucet, to find water spraying everywhere. The hose from the water supply into the bottom of the faucet has sprung a leak.

Trotted off to Home Depot, which, as every home owner will tell you, is like the Bottomless Pit of Money (a.k.a. BPoM). You buy a house and you instantly become Home Depot's bitch. I might as well set up a direct deposit from my checking account to the Home Depot corporate account.

Anyhoo, I pick up a new faucet. Then I head home. Shut off the main water supply line to the current faucet, start unhooking the lines, and that's when I found out that the connectors were metric sized, and I have an English sized wrench set. So I run BACK to the BPoM to get a metric wrench set. Home again, disconnect the supply lines.

Remove the old faucet, and huck it into the trash. Drop the new faucet into place, only to find that the gasket at the bottom doesn't quite seat right, and I need some plumber's putty to seal it tightly. Back to the BPoM, and back home.

Finally get the new faucet seated right and tightened down. Go to connect the supply hoses to the faucet, and discover that I have 1/2 inch supply lines that need to connect to 3/8 inch faucet lines. They make a connecting bushing for that, but guess who doesn't have any such bushings?

Yeah, you see where this is going.

BACK to the BPoM, home again, and I finally have the damn faucet replaced and functional.

We're going to score this as a Win for the "Do It Yourself So You Know It Was Done Right" school of thought. Time for a beer, I think.

Requiescat in Pace

2012-01-16T22:24:00.002-07:00

R.I.P., Jack Roberts

Seven or so years ago, I was new to ice climbing. I hitched my wagons to a few climbing friends, and went off to Ouray, CO, to the ice climbing festival held there every year. It's four days of ice climbing, celebration of the mountains, and friendship. Gear vendors "rent" their wares for the price of an ID card and a promise to bring the gear back. It's the sort of place where your handshake is credit enough... you promise that you'll bring those $250 crampons back, and that's all they ask.

I've been every year, save the last two, since 2004. I've been fortunate to meet and talk to some world-class climbers. The sorts of folk that look at a mountain different than most folks. Your average guy, he looks at a mountain and sees the big picture. He sees the summit, peeking out between the clouds, and he sees the lake at the base, a result of years of glacial runoff, and he sees the snow on the cap, high enough and cold enough to last the summer.

Not these folks. These are MY people. They look at a mountain, and they see the path an avalanche will take... there, that gully between the ribs of rock, that's where you don't want to be. These folks look at a mountain and they notice "Hey, I bet that ribbon of ice will stay well into the late months, since it's covered from direct sun." They see the danger, sure, but they see opportunity too. A chance to face the hill. To find out if your mettle is enough to get up and down and home in time for supper.

Jack was one of those folks. He'd climbed things that people said "Can't be done." He climbed for the pure, selfish reason of "I saw it, and wanted to climb it."

He'd been climbing for over 40 years. Longer than some of us have been breathing air. Climbed when it was illegal, then legal, then illegal, and then legal again to climb in some areas.

This weekend, he climbed his last climb. Here, in Colorado, he fell while ice climbing. From initial reports, it sounds like he fractured his pelvis and suffered hypovolemic shock, leading to cardiac arrest.

Jack was a world class climber, who commanded audiences to listen to his exploits. He was respected by thousands, known personally by dozens, but he never failed to give a kind word of encouragement to folks that didn't have his skills.

Even if one of those folks was a new climber who had hitched his wagon to a few climbing friends, and didn't know a crampon from a crevasse.

Rest well, Jack. I'll see you again someday.

The English... it BURNS

2012-01-14T14:48:00.002-07:00

I'll readily admit that I'm no master of the Queen's English, but I do make an effort to ensure that the words I select for conversation are the correct words to use... words that convey the actual meaning of what I wish to express, not words that I'll have to apologize for later, using a phrase of "Well, you know what I meant, so whatever!"

Thus, I did a little face-palm when I saw this.

Not the story, of course. This is a tragic story, and I can't imagine the pain her family must be enduring.

But what caught my eye was this:

... a drunken driver flew threw a red light...

"Threw" the light? Not "through" the light?

Come on, Denver Post... you need to proofread a little better.

His entire political philosophy

2012-01-14T14:37:00.002-07:00

summed up in one cartoon.

One for JayG

2012-01-12T10:16:00.002-07:00

Senior Citizen shoots, kills burglar.

Good for him.

Getting Paid to Get Dressed

2012-01-11T09:14:00.002-07:00

Denver Police are suing to recover back-pay for the time spent getting dressed for work.

I'm honestly not sure what to make of this. On one hand, getting into a duty uniform for a patrol cop certainly involves more than just the typical "business-casual, pair of khakis and a polo shirt" attire that many other jobs consider appropriate. You've got to don a pair of BDU pants, a ballistic vest, a uniform shit, your duty belt (which includes firearm, holster, spare magazines, handcuffs, flashlight, Asp baton, radio, etc. etc. etc.) and all sorts of other "things" that are not, and cannot, be considered "routine" clothing.

Still, this should have NOT been any sort of surprise. It's entirely reasonable for me, as an employer, to ask my employees to arrive to work on time, dressed for work, ready to go. I don't see it as reasonable that I should be required to pay for them to get dressed for work. I don't get paid to get dressed for my job.

Consider me underwhelmed with the plight of the officers here. Sorry, my police/law enforcement readers, but I don't agree with the cops in this case.

Candle counter campaign

2012-01-08T16:30:00.003-07:00

Weerd has a great idea:

Instead of lighting a candle to stop GUN violence, let's stop ALL violence.

I refuse to be a meek, unprepared victim.

That's my standard carry firearm. 4th Gen Glock 19, 9mm, with Hornady TAP 124 grain ammunition. 14+1.

And ya know what? It's never once hurt a single person.

That's Why We Call 'Em Marines

2011-12-30T13:54:00.001-07:00

Ooh-fucking-rah.

“I’m a Marine and I’m not going to run from a fight,” Trenker said. “You wouldn’t want a Marine to run from a fight. Call me crazy, call me stupid. I got shot once and it just angered me more. I wanted to get this guy."

Fire. Them. All.

2011-12-30T08:56:00.003-07:00

If an evil, for-profit, soul-sucking corporation gives a "Golden Parachute" to an outgoing CEO, we hear the outrage and the cries and the brainless #OWS drones shouting it down.

Now, being people of principle and fairness, I'll expect to hear the same outrage over this story:

City Councilwoman Marian Tasco will retire on Friday, collect a six-figure pension payment and then return to work after she is sworn-in on Monday to serve her seventh term.

Francis Bielli, executive director for the city’s Board of Pensions and Retirement, said he was recently notified that Tasco, who is enrolled in the controversial Deferred Retirement Option Plan, will retire on Friday and collect $478,057.

Got that, folks? She served her terms on the city council, retired for ONE DAY, and then went right back to the same job. And now she's going to get paid a cool half-million dollars, plus whatever salary she draws as a member of the city council.

Tasco did not respond to requests for comment.

Well, of course she didn't. Would you?

Tasco was reelected despite her participation in DROP, which drew public ire after elected officials entered the program, ran for re-election and retired for a day to get hefty pension payments, only to return to office.

Fire. Them. All.

The Rules Should Be Different For ME!!!

2011-12-29T08:28:00.002-07:00

At least, that's the general tone I heard when I read this article in the Denver Post.

A Denver police officer fired for driving 88 mph above the speed limit while intoxicated has appealed his dismissal, arguing that the penalty is unfair and overly harsh.

While I can't seem to find a citation to back this up, a friend of mine who is a Law Enforcement Officer in Colorado mentioned that nearly 25% of first time DUI Offenders in Colorado will lose their job as a result of the charge, because the penalties of restricted driving make them incapable of performing their job duties. I wonder what makes this officer think he should be any different?

Derrick Curtis Saunders, who had previously been cleared of charges he pointed a gun at a McDonald's employee in 2009, was arrested for speeding and DUI by the Colorado State Patrol. He couldn't be reached for comment Wednesday

I think this presents a clear pattern of conduct unbecoming of a police officer.

Saunders was traveling 143 mph in a 55-mph zone on June 17, 2010, according to the order terminating him, issued by Manager of Safety Alex Martinez on Dec. 7.

143 in a 55 will land your ass in jail if you're not a cop. Bravo to Mr. Martinez for terminating Mr. Saunders. Also, good for the judge for giving Saunders some jail time. Although, the fine could have been higher, IMHO. Close friend of mine paid $1500 for her DUI fine.

This cop seems to think that he shouldn't be subjected to the same laws that he enforces. That's dangerous thinking for a police officer. If anything, he should be held to a HIGHER standard. And it seems that he was... I might not lose my job for a "143 in a 55 and DUI" arrest, but he damn sure should. And did. Good.

Home for the Holidays

2011-12-21T10:02:00.004-07:00

Cashed in some frequent flier miles and hopped a flight from DEN to FWA to spend a week with the family for Christmas. Currently in Muncie with my Dearest Lady, reveling in the smells of her Almost World Famous meatballs cooking, while I tidy up a bit of work. Lovely thing, the internet... I am in Indiana, my office is in Colorado, and I can still get almost as much work done as if I were seated at my desk.

Plans to catch up with some old high school chums that I haven't seen in... years... tomorrow night. Family stuff the rest of the week, with the whole gift giving thing on Sunday, then back to Colorado on Tuesday.

Y'all have a wonderful holiday season, however you choose to observe it. Hanukkah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Christmas, or Festivus... the spirit is the same, and it's a fine time to reflect on the year past, set goals for the year to come, and spend a few minutes thinking of those less fortunate than you.

Be kind to each other. Peace on Earth.

Seething mad

2011-12-15T20:58:00.002-07:00

Via Mule Breath:

When agents for the dogs' owners visited the shipping facility early the next morning, they found the animals inside an untended refrigerated truck. All were dead.

MB and I are of the same mind on this one. Try those responsible, and let them suffer for the torture they inflicted.

Hood Hospital

2011-12-15T14:21:00.003-07:00

"We will allow you to voice you concerns in the form of multiple obscenities screamed at the top of your lungs in an uninterrupted fashion, because we respect your point of view."

That's some good snark right there...

You're not saying they were... "wrong", are you?

2011-12-14T14:02:00.002-07:00

Ran into this article today:

Mark Kantrowitz, the publisher of FinAid.org, a student loan advice site concerned with rising educational debt, tells Yahoo News that total student debt has increased five-fold between 2000 and 2011, (not counting inflation) and is nearing $1 trillion. This chart shows a much larger increase, with student debt increasing by a factor of 25 over the same period.

What I simply can't understand is the logic necessary to blame businesses because a student took out thousands (or hundreds of thousands) of dollars in loans to finance their college degree.

What corporation forced you to sign for those loans? What corporation set the price of college degrees so high that you can't afford it without borrowing huge sums of money? What corporation told you to spend $50,000 on a degree from Whatsamatter U?

If the #OWS folks are really torqued about student loan debt (and they SHOULD be), then why don't they #Occupy_The_Dean's_Office and demand that the soaring costs of a college education be curtailed?

Or would that run against the narrative that "Academia = Good and Capitalism = Evil"?

Sing it, Fat Lady!

2011-12-10T22:28:00.004-07:00

And all is right in JB's world tonight.

For your auditory pleasure

2011-12-09T10:33:00.002-07:00

VaTech Shooting, Redux

2011-12-08T14:46:00.003-07:00

Perusing over some of the coverage of today's incident at Virginia Tech, I came across the following comment on this page:

The argument that anyone who wants to kill will use a rock, stick or knife ignores the reality that none of those means can kill so many so quickly as an automatic weapon. If you want to find the source of this specious argument, follow the money. The sale of automatic weapons means big money. The bigger the money-motivated-argument, the harder it is to defeat with even the most rational of arguments.

Oh, my FSM, where to begin?

1. I haven't seen any evidence at all that this crime was committed by an automatic weapon. Granted, I haven't been able to read EVERY bit of news on the event. I am at work, after all, and should probably appear productive at the very least. But the point remains: As yet, I haven't seen any information about the type of firearm used. The author of this comment is speculating about the firearm used, and then using that speculation to advance her view.

2. Anyone that bothers to do a basic check of facts would learn that functional automatic weapons are already banned from civilian ownership (unless you bought one WAY back in the day and are "Grandfathered" in. People who do legally own fully automatic guns -- at least in the USA -- are generally firearms enthusiasts and avid shooters and aren't the type that would perpetrate this sort of violence.)

3. Even IF this was done with an "automatic" weapon, wouldn't that make the entire argument for strict gun control a toothless tiger? "If we enact laws to make it illegal to own a gun that is already illegal to own, then people won't have illegal guns -- like the one used here -- available to kill other people."

4. Eric Holder was unavailable for comment.

December 7

2011-12-07T10:29:00.001-07:00

Enough said.

This is my rifle

2011-12-06T08:44:00.002-07:00

Out of nothing more than sheer curiosity, I contacted Remington through their website to inquire when my 700 was made. I purchased it from a friend, and never thought to ask him about the gun's history... dumb.

At any rate: Per the serial number on the barrel, which is the original equipment according to all the information available to me, Remington tells me it was made in 1975.

Three years after I was born.

Think about that for a second.... this rifle, which has the original parts, is 36 years old, and can still shoot dime-sized groups at 100 yards.

That's pretty cool.

Sick. Bastard.

2011-12-05T14:54:00.002-07:00

There are some people in this world who, by their actions, have proven themselves unworthy of the privilege of living among society.

Whomever did this is one of them.

Don't tell me he's mentally ill. No doubt that if he is captured, his lawyer will make that claim: That the defendant -- an otherwise wholesome, America-loving, God-Fearing, Apple-pie-eating man who helps old ladies cross the street, serves dinners at the homeless shelter, and sings Tenor in his church choir -- was overcome by temporary insanity and lacked the capacity to understand that what he was doing was wrong.

Codswallop.

The death penalty is not a deterrent. Never was intended to be. It is the ultimate penalty for the most heinous of crimes. Those crimes that demonstrate a callous and wanton disregard for the life of another. Those crimes that, by their very nature, prove that the individual committing them can no longer be trusted to function as a normal human.

No normal human could ever conceive of the righteousness of sexually assaulting, raping, and beating a 7 year old child. NORMAL humans would give their own life to protect a 7 year old child from such harm, if need be. NORMAL humans love children, guard children, and contribute to their well-being as the child grows (while, of course, secretly wishing they'd stay a child just a little bit longer.)

Whomever did this is not a normal human. And he (or she) deserves to die.

A Gentleman's Manners

2011-12-03T17:22:00.002-07:00

One of the things that I observe from time to time is that the younger generations don't seem to appreciate what would, in times past, be considered basic Gentlemen's Manners. Holding doors for a lady, offering your umbrella, helping a lady doff her coat, holding her chair, and so forth.

Another observation, made in Texas the week I was there, was "On which side should the man stand while walking down a sidewalk with his companion"?

In days of old, before the advent of modern plumbing, folks used chamber pots. These were, literally, pots, often made from ceramic, wood, or stone, were used as an indoor urinal during the night. When it was too dark or cold to go outside to the privy, one simply urinated into their chamber pot. In the morning, these pots were set outside on the sidewalk to be emptied.

In those days, the man walked on the inside of the sidewalk, closest to the building, so as to avoid the lady coming into close proximity to the offensive material.

Later, as horses as a means of transport became less prevalent and the automobile took over, we also saw the decline of external plumbing and the rise of the water closet. Chamber pots went the way of the DoDo bird, and a new paradigm took hold: That of the man walking closest to the road, in the event that a wayward driver came too near the pedestrians, and the lady needed be shielded from harm.

So, fellas, let us mind our manners: When walking with your woman, you, Kind Sir, should always be closest to the road.*

(* The exception, I've been told, is if walking on the road side involves holding the lady's dominant shooting hand. My friend, C, a Peace Officer in Texas, would never walk with me in a manner that occupies her right hand... it's her strong hand, and the side on which she carries her sidearm.)

Requiescat In Pace

2011-12-03T12:30:00.000-07:00

I hadn't the pleasure of meeting Mawmaw from Tractor Tracks, but friends of mine have, and they spoke highly of her. A kind, caring, strong, dedicated woman who stood toe-to-toe with cancer and fought with honor and dignity.

In the end, the cancer took her life, and the world is a lesser place without her.

To Farmgirl, I offer my sympathy. I don't have the words.

Back then...

2011-12-03T10:48:00.001-07:00

They didn't have the "Green thing".

TSA Ineptitude, Part I

2011-12-03T10:36:00.002-07:00

Teen stopped by TSA for a purse that has a gun design.

This is really just pathetic. There is no argument -- NONE -- in support of the actions by the TSA goons. None.

This wasn't an item that could be used as a weapon, even with the most creative of minds.

This was a young woman's purse. Her PURSE. I have an old, spent 30-06 with a hole drilled through it on my key chain. I've never been stopped by TSA for it, nor told to remove it, nor questioned about it (well, OK, one guy did ask me "What's the significance of it that made you keep it?" once. That led to a discussion about hunting that might have been quite enjoyable, had I not a flight to catch.)

But a PURSE? It's long past time that the Thousands Standing Around be reined in a lot, or eliminated entirely.

Advice for Dealing With Vendors

2011-12-01T14:59:00.002-07:00

Dear Kind Customer:

I realize that you are up against a time crunch. You need several layers of updates to your software in order to be compliant with the CMS Medicare Billing requirements. Yes, 01 January 2012 rapidly approaches, and in an economy such as the one we face today, every dollar is important. I certainly don't wish to hamper your Accounts Receivable numbers by delaying your ability to collect on the bills you send your customers.

However-comma:

You've known that this software upgrade would be necessary for about 11 months, roughly. Ergo, I shall not feel bad for you when I tell you that no, you will NOT be getting it done before December 31st. First, your hardware won't handle the upgrade, so you will need two new servers, updated Windows and SQL software, and so forth. Second, however, and most importantly, our guys have been beaten and battered and are road weary, and none of us are keen on traveling on Christmas Day just to bail you out of your excessive case of procrastination.

As I've heard it said before: A failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.

Kind regards,

Wrong victim, wrong place, wrong time

2011-12-01T11:03:00.002-07:00

Soldier and CCW permit holder pulls a firearm on would-be robbers.

Atta boy, lad. Atta boy.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.?

2011-11-30T10:15:00.002-07:00

Don't ever ask me to pay higher taxes again.

Via Jay at MArooned: Having been on the receiving end of almost a million dollars in a buy out, ex School official applies for unemployment.

'Tis the Season

2011-11-29T11:41:00.002-07:00

Barney

2011-11-28T11:14:00.002-07:00

Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA), will not seek re-election. That, in an of itself, doesn't bother me.

What does bother me is that Maxine Waters, she of the "Go straight to Hell" School of Civil Discourse, will take his place as the ranking member of the House Banking Committee.

Same circus, different clowns.

Scope advice

2011-11-25T10:50:00.002-07:00

Fellow shooters:

I've a Remington 700 ADL in 30.06 that has an old 4x Weaver scope on it. Fixed magnification, pretty narrow field of vision. It works well enough for shooting out to, say, 200 yards (I've got it within 1/2 MOA) but it doesn't adjust easily and I'm looking for something... more. Thus, I beseech your suggestions. Primary use is hunting deer, elk, and the occasional Texas hog.

Do bear in mind the following conditions:

1. I'm not of a mind to shoot anything beyond 300 yards or so. I'm simply not that good of a shot (yet?)

2. I'm not possessed of a great deal of disposable income. I can scratch up a couple Ben Franklins for a good scope, but I don't have several hundred dollars laying around for a top of the line Leupold.

So, input welcomed and appreciated.

Seems about accurate

2011-11-23T13:37:00.001-07:00

LabRat sums up the GOP Field nicely.

This one resulted in Diet Coke being spewed from my nose:

Ron Paul: “I stand for liberty, principle, fiscal sanity, reason, gravitas, grit, calm leadership, and BANANA BANANA FRUIT PUNCH PIE WHAT TIME IS IT”

2011 Vacation: The After Action Report

2011-11-23T09:29:00.009-07:00

Every November, I take a little trip to Texas for some much needed R&R, some much needed CEU credits, and some much needed time with friends that I don't get to see enough. Ambulance Driver, TOTWTYTR, Jules, Wes, and Donn, among others.

Friday, I caught a flight from DEN to IAH to AUS. Last year, I flew so much that I attained United Airline's 1K status, which is given if you reach 100,000 miles or 100 segments. It gets you some perks, like free checked bags, frequent upgrades to First Class, a dedicated reservation line, and some other stuff. And I loved it. This trip, I was in First Class from Denver to Houston, and availed myself of a Bloody Mary on the flight.

Landed Austin, got the rental car, and hit the road to Thornton for the Epic Hog Hunt of 2011. We spend a couple days at 4 Pines Ranch, hunting for feral hogs. These hogs are a huge nuisance to land owners, digging up the land and causing havoc.

I arrived Friday evening, after dark, and had the good fortune to meet OldNFO, who is a really pleasant fellow. He, AD, TOTWTYTR, and our friend from London, who I affectionately call Limey, had been out in the blinds, but hadn't seen a single hog. We cooked, we ate, we put down a fair bit of beer, and hit the rack.

Up early the next morning, sitting in the blinds, waiting for hogs. I saw a decent 8 point buck (pity I didn't have a deer tag!) and a doe with a couple yearlings, but no hogs. Then, too, neither did anyone else. I did, however, get to watch the sun rise over the Texas hills, and that's worth the price of admission.

There's a view you don't get every day.

My kingdom for a doe tag...

We called it a morning, had breakfasts, swung up to Mexia for supplies at Wal-Mart, then went to the range to run some rounds through the guns and turned money into smoke and noise. I managed to put two rounds through my Remington 700 30-06 into a half inch group at 100 yards, so I was pretty happy with my marksmanship and the sights. We also perforated an armadillo that had the misfortune of crossing the firing line the day before, when the rest of the guys were sighting in their guns. Ever see the end result of an armadillo vs. a 5.56 NATO round from an M4 with Trijicon sights? At 40 yards, it seemed like the perfect balance between pistol targets at 15 yards and the rifle target at 100 yards. By the end of our range time, that armadillo corpse had more holes in it than Charlie Sheen's nasal septum.

We then did a "Push", which involved AD and OldNFO at one end of a creek, and myself, TOTW, Limey, and the ranch owner starting at the other end, walking along with our rifles, hoping to spook a hog or five into running down-water, into AD's sights, with NFO as his BUG.

No such luck. It was warm, windy, and Matt (ranch owner) wisely mentioned that an animal that depends on smell and sound to survive wouldn't be out in 15mph winds. Sensible, I suppose.

At any rate, Saturday evening and Sunday morning in the blinds didn't bring any better luck, and we called it a busted hunt. We did, however, cook up two pounds of bacon for breakfast on Sunday, which took the edge off the pain of being skunked on hogs. Still and all, a bad day hunting beats a good day working.

Next year, that bacon is going to have bullet holes in it!

We headed towards Austin, making a at Wal Mart for a few things I needed for my presentation. Now, AD is a true redneck down to his core, and he is ATE UP with camoflage... camo clothes, camo wallet, camo hats, camo electrical cord. At the Wal Mart in Mexia, he was giggling like a school girl over Mossy Oak camo duct tape. Naturally, when I saw this at the Wal Mart in Round Rock, I was sorely tempted to buy it for him:

All he'd need is a bag of cheetos and AD would be the happiest man alive.

Finally we made the Hilton in Austin, checked in, and after a much needed shower, we met up with some more folks for a feast of Mexican food, margaritas, and many EMS stories. Bryan Bledsoe, a friend of mine from Austin PD, and a few other folks.

Conference ran Monday -Wednesday noon, and I had three lectures on Monday. They went well, I reckon, since nobody threw rotten fruit at me. If nothing else, the lectures paid for my hotel and airfare.

Tonight, I'm staying with a friend who was kind enough to offer me her guest room and a ride to the airport in the morning. It's always enjoyable to come down here, and I'll be back next year. Vaya Con Dios, Texas.

september 12

2011-09-12T06:00:00.002-07:00

Today is September 12. The day after the day that everyone says they "remember."

What do you remember about September 12, 2001? What did you do? Where did you go? Where were you? I can tell you where I was, what I did, what I felt.

Folks talk about "commemerating" 9/11 by doing something "special", be it a special prayer for those who died, or by taking a moment of silence. Others cook food for their local fire station, pause to say "Hey, thanks" to an EMT or a cop, or they fly an American Flag from their front porch.

I don't "commemerate" 9/11. Commemeration is too close to celebration, and there's nothing to celebrate about the day that a dozen or so people decided to kill several thousand humans, who made the unfathomable mistake of simply showing up for work.

I won't "commemerate." I won't. You can.

Nor will I change my life because of 9/11. I didn't change it then, I won't change it now. On Setpember 12, 2001, I did the same thing I did on September 10, 2001: I woke up, showered, grabbed a bite to eat from my local deli, and went to work. I was in Atlanta back then, working the ambulance, running calls, giving help to people who needed it -- and some who didn't really need help -- and loving every minute of it.

Back on September 10, 2001, I was into things like being with my pals, having a cold beer while watching a ball game, taking the guns to the range for some target practice, chasing girls, working hard, saving what money I could spare, spending the money I could spare, and generally living a good life.

I wanted what most people wanted: A house, where I could have my family life in as much safety as I could provide. I wanted a chance to work at a good job that paid well. I wanted to live my life, with nobody telling me how to go about my day. I wanted to be able to go to chuch if I wanted, or to not go to church if I didn't want.

What I did NOT want was a country where a WWII Fighter Pilot (and an Ace at that) was detained because he tried to bring his MEDAL OF HONOR onto an airplane. I did NOT want a country where people were allowed to grope your genitals and those of your child in the interest of 'safety'. I did NOT want a country where Congress passed a "Patriot" act that allowed law enforcement nearly unlimited access to your personal information.

I hear people talking about how we shouldn't hate. "Hatred doesn't heal", they say. Which is generally true. So I won't hate.

Instead, I pity. I pity those who would do my country harm.

I pity the person who thinks it's in his best interest to take up arms against the United States of America. Our military has provided more humanitarian aid to more people for more years than any other single entity in history, but make no mistake, Jack: You point a gun at a US Marine, and that Marine will shoot you down.

I pity the person who thinks that it's MY job to make sure someone of a different ethnicity, or a different religion, or a different socio-economic background feels welcome and has a good job and plenty of money. I worked hard for what little I have. They can do the same.

I pity the person who is so shallow minded that he thinks that all the problems America faces can be solved by simply giving our enemies a hug and "embracing diversity." To be so simplistic in one's thinking would be painful.

I pity the person who comes to my home, thinking that they can tell me how I should feel and how I should act and how I must obey certain agreed upon norms. My mother spent 20 years trying to tell me how to act. She didn't have a lot of success, and neither will you.

I pity the person who thinks that their desires and wants and beliefs are better than mine.

I woke up the day after the worst attack on American soil and I went about my day like I normally did. I'll continue to do so, and I won't apologize for it.

Why? Well, because living well is the best revenge. And I plan to get my revenge.

September 12... Remember that.

Three Random Things

2010-01-11T19:59:00.002-07:00

Got back from my yearly trip to Ouray, Colorado, yesterday. Spent the week ice climbing, relaxing, and recharging the batteries. There's something about being 200 feet off the ground, clinging to a frozen waterfall that really helps bring things into focus and provides some inner peace. I need more of that, truth be told.

In Spokane, Washington, this week for work, so probably nothing more the rest of the week. Home on Friday. In the interim, go check some of the folks in the blogroll.

You ever get a bit of news that you think should hit you harder than it does, but it doesn't and you can't determine if that's a good thing or a bad thing? I got some news like that today. It *should* have hit hard. But I find that I just can't muster the energy to give a damn one way or the other. I should, I know, but I don't. And I don't know if that -- the "don't care" mindset -- makes me a bad person or not.

Blowing off steam

2009-12-30T19:54:00.003-07:00

What the HELL is wrong with people?

I'm asking, because I can't figure it out.

Really, what the fuck is wrong with some people?

What the HELL would make a person think that THIS would be acceptable?

Further, how the FUCK would you justify THIS?

Some people are sick. Sick, psychopathic fucktards who simply do not deserve to be called humans.

I'm not a violent man, and I prefer to think of myself as having a measure of civility, but these two stories make me want to give these sorts of people a visit and introduce them to my trusty Remington 870.

What. The. Fuck.

And here. In Colorado. MY state. Where I live. Where everyone and their brother has a black Labrador or an Australian Cattle Dog.

Bastards. Bastards, all of them. They do not deserve to live in a civilized society if they're going to treat dogs like this.

I'd like to find the guy behind either one of these and look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, bloodsucking, brainless, dick-less, hopeless, heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is.

Some people are alive only because it'd be against the law for me to shoot them.

UPDATE: Arrest made in the dog dragging case. Good. Now let's shoot him.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T18:06:00.003-07:00

In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukka' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukka!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Never underestimate

2009-12-19T11:27:00.002-07:00

The potential for human creativity.

Watch this, all the way through.

Then watch this.

I LOL'd.

You'd better watch out...

2009-12-14T20:37:00.002-07:00

You'd better not cry.

You'd better pout,

I'm telling you why...

AmbuDriver is coming to town.

I'll never watch "Wonder Years" in the same way again

2009-12-11T20:50:00.002-07:00

Winnie is all grown up.

Oh, my goodness.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Good suggestions

2009-12-11T15:54:00.003-07:00

In the event you find yourself in the back of an ambulance, here are some suggestions:

-No matter how many times you ask if you can drive, we won't let you.

-It's NOT ok to play with all the switches in the back.

-The phone mounted in the ambulance is not for you to use to call your friends and say "Hey, guess where I am right now!"

-Defibrillators hurt, even if it is just your leg, so don't make us mad.

-It is not necessary, as a bystander, to stand by the paramedics and yell, "Nothing to see here folks, move along!" as they are treating patients.

-It is unnecessary to use the phrases "10-4" and "Roger That" when talking in person to the paramedics.

-Paramedics do not think it's funny if you lie down in the gurney and zip yourself into a body bag. You won't think it's funny either when the zipper gets stuck.

A suggestion

2009-12-10T21:35:00.001-07:00

Should you find yourself having purchased a software suite that uses a database to track your EMS operations...

And should you find yourself saddled with an IT Specialist that thinks he (or she) has more knowledge than he really does...

And should you find that said IT Specialist decides to change the permissions for the assorted database log in accounts that aforementioned software uses to operate properly...

It might... MIGHT, I say... be a good idea to mention this fact should you decide to call your software vendor for technical support, lest the person providing said technical support spend 4 hours dialed in to your servers trying to determine the source of the error you get, only to discover the problem that takes 30 seconds and five mouse clicks to repair.

That is all.

Firearms, hysteria, and the Nanny State Mindset

2009-12-06T16:09:00.002-07:00

Saw a link over at Instapundit that directed me to an article in the Toronto Sun, via here.

Digging a bit more, I came across this longer piece from CTV.

There's so much here, it's hard to decide where to start. So I'll start at the start:

A Toronto designer became a participant in a real-life Flashpoint-style event when police tactical officers showed up at his workplace over a firearms call that involved a Lego gun.

"I've had numerous people either say, 'Oh my God, I thought Flashpoint was just filming,' or, 'This is totally going to be a Flashpoint episode at some point'," Jeremy Bell told ctvtoronto.ca on Thursday. "Yeah, it's pretty surreal."

Flashpoint is a CTV drama, set in Toronto, about a police "strategic response unit."

OK, so a lot of reasonable people thought this was a television show. That's understandable.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Bell -- a partner with the digital design firm Teehan+Lax, located at 460 Richmond St. W. -- was assembling a replica handgun made out of Lego that had arrived.

"It arrived yesterday and at the end of the day, I decided to put it together. I literally assembled it, handed it to a co-worker (who promptly broke it) and then put it back in the box," Bell wrote in a posting on his personal blog.

"The SWAT arrived shortly thereafter."

I shudder to think what would have happened had he been putting together a model of an F-15.

Across the street, Michael Dent was working in his third-floor loft. He saw what he thought was someone assembling a firearm, so he took some photos and called the police.

"I don't really like guns right beside me -- and then it turned out to be Lego," Dent chuckled.

He doesn't like guns, so he decided it was OK to spy on the people across the street, take their pictures, call the police, and report one of those people for doing... well, nothing at all.

Oh, and he also either gave or sold his picture to the media. If I were Mr. Bell, I'd sue for that.

None of those are a problem, apparently, to Mr. Dent. It's justified because he doesn't like guns right beside him. Or across the street, even.

But he added, "My girlfriend is moving in with her daughter and stuff, and it looks right into our loft where we sleep, so no, not cool."

Not sure how to explain this to Mr. Dent, but just because you think something is "not cool" doesn't make it illegal. Nor does it give you the right to encroach your beliefs on others.

Dent said the door of the office was shut, and it never is, so for all he knew, someone might have been laid off "and about to go postal, so that's why I called."

And here we get to the root issue: Anyone who has a firearm is "about to postal" [note: 'go postal' are the CTV's words, not Mr. Dent's. I could understand if Dent used the term, but for a media entity? Seriously? Do you not employ journalists who can craft a better turn of phrase?]

Behind this is the irrational fear of firearms that drives the anti-gun crowd... "Guns are evil, the people who own them must therefore be evil and about to commit an evil act. There is no other explanation."

It is beyond the realm of possibility that someone would be capable of owning a firearm and NOT use it to "go postal." Why, they're one promotion denial away from slinging lead into anything that moves, letting the bodies pile up in the streets, and staining the concrete a crimson red with the blood of innocent people.

Right.

I own two firearms. One pistol, one shotgun. Neither has ever once been pointed at a human. Ever. The shotgun has been pointed at a few ducks now and then, and even a couple pheasant (though, I'm sorry to report that most of the aforementioned fowl showed no signs whatsoever of the event.... maybe I need AD to give me some lessons.)

But not once has either been pointed even close to another person. Not once. Ever.

Yet, obviously, I'm an evil person with evil intentions, for I own a gun. Two, actually, which probably means I'm twice as evil.

Bell was in his office and then heard a voice yelling his name and instructing him to come into the hallway.

"At first I thought, 'who did I piss off?' I wasn't worried about my safety ... but I certainly wasn't expecting to see an armed officer," he said, adding he couldn't remember what type of firearm was pointed at him.

Bell said he knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

Sorry, Mr. Bell, but while you might not have done anything wrong, per se, you did something that is "not cool." You put together a LEGO gun. Off to Gitmo for you!

"As soon as I realized they were actual cops and this was not a joke, I was, 'What else could it be? It's got to be the stupid Lego gun I put together'," he said.

Police had him put his hands on his head and walk backwards towards them. "They cuffed me, pulled me into the stairwell and threw me against the wall. They spread my legs and checked to make sure I didn't have a weapon on me," he said.

Doesn't matter. You did something that was "not cool." That, t'would seem, is reasonable cause to slam you against the wall and cuff you.

Bell said he told them where the Lego gun was, they went to check it out and then uncuffed him. He was handcuffed for about 90 seconds.

After seeing the photos, Bell said he can understand why Dent called the cops, although to him, it's still clearly Lego.

"There's like a million pieces on the table," he said, adding, it's not like he waved it around or took it out on the street.

It's clear to anyone that has, you know, actually seen a real firearm. I'm not a betting man, but 5 will get ya 10 that Mr. Dent has never even touched one of those evil Harbingers of Doom.

[Cue dark John Williams music here.]

Const. Tony Vella of the Toronto Police Service no charges resulted from the incident, the response for which involved uniformed and tactical officers.

"We have to take all the gun calls seriously because we don't know what we're getting involved in," Vella said. "There's the potential for public risk as well as the risk to the officers' safety."

I'm betting Constable Vella wouldn't have taken such a serious view if I called and said that I can see my neighbor standing in his kitchen with a butcher knife.

On his blog, Bell wrote: "The cops clearly don't take this shit lightly."

Correct. They take it with an excessive measure of hysteria and force. Sorry you live in such a Nanny State, Mr. Bell.

Dent wondered what his phone call cost the city in taxes.

Oh, I'm SURE that's weighing heavily on his mind.

Holiday lights

2009-12-01T15:50:00.002-07:00

You can always tell when you've arrived at Ambulance Driver's house during Christmas.

:)

The weekend that was

2009-11-09T18:52:00.003-07:00

I had been on the road for work all week, and after an exhausting time on the job, I came home Saturday morning. As per the norm, Casey met me at the door with a wet tongue and a tail that could have broken a tibia, had it struck the wrong angle.

We spent the past couple days walking more miles than most people do in a month, watched a couple sunsets, took naps beside the fireplace, and ate like Kings (me: grilled brats and baked beans, washed down with beer; her: a beef femur bone and a handful of gizzards and hearts mixed in with her kibble.)

Reminded me of this:

"I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands.
"When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands;
"Then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat.
"For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that."

~ W. Dayton Wedgefarth

It's been a while

2009-10-27T19:35:00.000-07:00

But I simply haven't had time to write anything.

However, I do have a random observation to make:

If you think watching children trying to catch snowflakes on their tongue is cute, you haven't seen an mutt dog raised in the Arizona desert try to do the same thing.

That is all. For now.

For aspiring IT folks

2009-09-05T07:54:00.001-07:00

There is more to creating a back up of a SQL Database than simply copying a bunch of .ldf and .mdf files.

That method of a "back up" will only ensure great pain, frustration, and difficulty for your software vendor's rep when he comes out to install a SQL based software program. It may even drive him to drink.

That is all.

Advice to new Medics

2009-08-29T09:16:00.002-07:00

My two pals, AD and TOTWTYTR both have excellent posts up that offer sound advice to new medics. And, to be honest, I can't believe AD remembered our conversation all those years ago in Austin. I'm honored.

Frankly, there's little more I could add, but I'm going to anyway.

*****

The Good Lord gave you two ears and one mouth in that ratio for a reason.

Spend more time listening than talking.

Listen to your patients. When possible, ask them a question that can't be answered with a "Yes" or "No." Get them talking. Then listen to what they have to say. A wise Physician Assistant I once worked with told me "The patient's history and physical exam will give you the diagnosis most of the time. Fancy tests and x-rays and such just confirm it." That's a truism I've kept in my pocket over the past decade as I've worked in EMS.

Listen to the doctors. They're better educated than you, and underneath the skin of every physician is a frustrated teacher yearning to breathe free. If you get a patient that doesn't quite meet the "text book picture" of a disease or injury -- and trust me, most of your patients will fail to meet the text book picture -- get the doctor talking, and listen. You'll learn something.

Listen to the nurses. Like the NCO in the military, it's the nurse that really keeps things running in the hospital. A wise physician will listen to the nurse, and if the doctor is smart enough to do that, you should too. Nurses have a different outlook on patient care, and broadening your view will help you become a better paramedic.

No single text book contains all the knowledge you need to do your job.

I really wish those public service announcements on TV that implore parents to read to their kids would expand to include paramedic students. Read! Get your paws on every book you can find about medicine, and read. Dr. Bryan Bledsoe has a 5 volume set of texts that cover a veritable cornucopia of information about prehospital care, and even those don't cover it all. Read! Get yourself a copy of Tintinalli's or Rosen's guide to emergency medicine. Then read it. When you come to a term you don't understand, go look it up. Have a copy of Taber's on the back of the toilet tank. Find a library that has various journals -- Annals of Emergency Medicine, Prehospital Emergency Care, Journal of Trauma, Heart -- and sit down to read.

Read! Read a diverse selection. I have texts on cardiology, medical-surgical nursing, critical care paramedicine, air medical transport, wilderness and remote medicine, orthopedic trauma, renal disease, critical care nursing, pediatrics, and internal medicine. I've given away twice that many to other folks.

Read!

You always have time to think.

Despite what the television drama shows or paramedic instructors tell you, there are very few times where you must act immediately! Damn few. I can think of two calls in 10+ years where I had less than 30 seconds to make a decision, and one of those was an easy decision to make. When things don't make sense, and you're not sure what the right course of action is, your best bet is to stop, step back, and think. Obviously, some of the basic stuff is a good idea, and comforting measures go farther than you think, but overall, you should engage the gray matter 'tween your ears and think.

One of my pet peeves, and the answer I give when people ask me in interviews "What's your weakest area?" is that I have absolutely no tolerance or patience for people who don't think. You've been entrusted with the care of another person's life and health. That's not a burden to take lightly, and it requires that you think. If you stop and think, and your thinking is awry, I'm OK with that, and most experienced and quality paramedics are, too. We don't mind if you make a mistake in your thinking. That's easy to fix: Sit down with some coffee, talk it over, and find out where your thought process was flawed. Simple, takes about 45 minutes. But if you tell me "I wasn't thinking," then I don't have any use for you, and would rather you sit your rump in the front seat and stay out of my way.

When it doesn't make sense, stop and think.

It's never a bad idea to put the patient in the ambulance and go to the hospital.

Along with the thinking bit above, don't forget that your job, ultimately, is to take the patient to the big building where the doctors and nurses work. You're not curing disease out there... you're helping people feel better in the short term, providing them some peace of mind, and applying temporary care until you get them to the hospital. If you can think of nothing else to do, put the patient in the ambulance and go to the hospital. This was the first thing my paramedic instructor told us on the first day of class: "If you remember nothing else after the next 14 months, remember that it's never a bad idea to take the sick person to the Emergency Room."

Giggle*snort

2009-08-20T07:31:00.001-07:00

You've seen that picture of the squirrel that popped up in the vacation picture of the couple in Banff National Park?

It seems he's been around.

Beverage alert in effect.

Whole Foods

2009-08-16T07:00:00.003-07:00

Via Ann Althouse...

TMV has a guest post up regarding the op-ed piece by Whole Food's CEO John Mackey in the WSJ this week.

In brief:

With a single op-ed in an uber conservative national newspaper, this wholesome image has been blown to bits. In the course of writing 1,165 words, CEO Mackey has caused more potential damage to the Whole Foods corporate image than an e-coli outbreak in the meat room.

In calling for support of the boycott of Whole Foods, I’m making an educated guess that their average customer is very politically progressive in nature. And that is why, if liberals and progressives quit shopping at Whole Foods, the impact would be quickly apparent to the company’s Board of Directors. By quickly, I mean by this coming Monday morning when the weekend receipts are tallied.
I am all for freedom of speech. Mr. Mackey had every right to express his views on health care in the WSJ, even as anathema as those views might be to progressives. Similarly, we progressives have every right to decide whether or not we want to spend our food dollars in a store whose CEO clearly doesn’t support the most important progressive cause of the moment.

So, if you are a Whole Foods shopper, please consider honoring the boycott, at least for a short period of time. The impact will be very evident, and almost immediate.

There are several factors and dynamics to this, and it's kinda fun to read. I'll ignore the knee-jerk reaction of liberals to automatically label anything or anyone that disagrees with them as "uber-conservative." I'm modestly surprised they didn't call Mr. Mackey a "neo-con."

TMV's piece does call Mackey's op-ed "anti-health care," which is indicative that Mr. Blair lacks reading comprehension... the entire op-ed was giving suggestions and examples of how we can improve and increase health care for all Americans.

Further, Whole Foods pays 100% of health insurance for employees that work more than 30 hours. This is significant, since most companies require that the employee pay at least part of their premiums. Second, Whole Foods also gives their employees $1800 in donations to their Health Savings Accounts.

Keeping that in mind, can you imagine the sweet irony should the boycott by these "progressive" voices causes Whole Foods to enact layoffs, thus removing the health care benefits of laid-off employees? Whole Foods does what the liberals want everyone to do: Provide "free" health care to their employees. They should be applauded for their acts. Instead, they're going to be boycotted because their CEO has the temerity to make suggestions other than "Tax the rich, and enact a single payer system."

If you've got a Whole Foods in your neck of the words, consider dropping in and spending a couple dollars. You can also drop an e-mail of support by clicking here.

Why I prefer dogs over humans

2009-08-15T10:24:00.002-07:00

This is cool.

11 Things Every Man Should Know

2009-08-12T18:27:00.002-07:00

I've had some interesting conversations with co-workers, colleagues, friends, and casual acquaintances over the years, and in those conversations, I've culled a list of things that I, JB, believe that every man should know how to do.

These are not things that are special, unique, exotic, or crazy. They are skills that combine elements of survival, etiquette, and self-reliance. And class.

In no particular order, my list of 11 Things Every Man Should Know How To Do:

11. Start a fire without matches or a lighter: Have a means to create a spark and a means to capture that spark. A 9 volt battery and a small portion of steel wool, or a flint and steel will both cause a spark. A cotton ball with some petroleum jelly, or a handful of dry shredded bark with a dollop of alcohol based hand sanitizer will catch that spark. Add to the resultant flame with dry sticks, small at first (less than your pinky finger) and slowly increase.

10: Score a baseball game: This says it better than I can. Mind you keep track of BB, HBP, and double plays.

9: Shoot a firearm: If you don't know how, go find a local firearm dealer that offers classes and take one. Learn the differences between rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Shoot several different types, in various calibers, and practice often.

8: Find North without a compass: Assuming you know nothing about the stars, the Big Dipper, and Polaris: With a non-digital watch (i.e., one that still has hands that rotate about the watch face,) place the watch flat on the ground. Slowly rotate the watch until the hour hand points at the sun. Half-way between the hour hand and the 12 o'clok position, put a small stick flat on the ground in line with the markings of the watch. That match is aligned to the North-South Line, pointing South. Now, if your watch is one of them fancy gollywog digital types: During daylight, place a small twig in the ground, as vertical as possible. Place a small pebble at the end of the shadow. Now sit down. Wait 15 minutes or more. Preferrably more. Like 30. After 30 minutes, put another stick in the ground, again as vertical as possible. Mark the end of the shadow with a pebble. The line between the two pebbles is generally East-West.

7. Cook a GOOD meal: No, spaghetti with Ragu doesn't count. Nor does Mac-n-Cheese with Hot Dogs (good though it may be, hot dogs with mac-n-cheese will NOT impress her on the third date.) First, understand that if you can read, you can cook. If you can't read, it's doubtful you'd have made it this far into this post. Now, then. Don't skimp on ingredients. If a recipie tells you "a pound of quality Italian Sausage," then spend the money. Follow directions carefully. Slow down. Think before you act. My favorite: Eggplant Ratatoullie on Rice. Dice one eggplant, one large green pepper, one large yellow onion, and one each yellow squash and zucchini. Heat a VERY LARGE skillet over medium heat with a splash or two of oil (Extra Virgin Olive Oil is ideal,) and sautee onions until almost clear. Add the peppers and squash and zucchini, and continue to sautee. After 5 minutes or so, add the eggplant, and reduce heat to med-low. During this, cook two cups of brown rice according to package directions. After the onion/pepper/eggplant mix has cooked though, add a 14oz can of diced tomatoes in juice, salt and pepper to taste (some generic "Italian Seasoning" works well in here, too,) and heat through. Serve the ratatoullie over the rice, and pair it with a salad and a bottle of Shiraz (Yellow Tail will do.)

6. Change the oil in a car: Start the car, and let it run for a couple, two or three, minutes to warm the oil. This facilitates the old oil draining. Shut the enging off, jack the car up, using the frame, and keep in mind that you chock the rear wheels, lest it slide on you. Under the engine, locate and remove the oil pan plug, letting the old oil drain to a collection pan. Once the oil draining has slowed to a trickle, replace the plug to finger tight. Go into the house, have a cold beer. Wait. At least one beer's worth of wait time, preferrably two. Return to under the car, remove the drain plug again, and let the last bit pour out. Replace plug, tighten with a wrench, and replace all the old oil with new. The same weight oil, of course: Old 10W30 = New 10W30. Old 5W40 = New 5W40. And so forth. Most engines will take 3 quarts, some need 4. Put 3 in, then wait another beer's worth of time, and check the dipstick. Add as necessary.

5. Provide First Aid to an injured person: Take a class.

4. Make a Kick-Ass Bloody Mary: Get thyself a tall glass, some quality vodka (I like Grey Goose, YMMV,) and some fresh tomato juice. Also get thyself salt, pepper, a lime, a kosher dill, Tabasco, and Worchestershire sauce. Pour some salt and pepper onto a saucer, wet the rim of the glass, and dip into the salt/pepper mix. You're going for something akin to what bartenders do to a margarita glass. Fill the glass 3/4 with ice, add an ounce and a half of vodka, and fill almost to the top with tomato juice. Splash some Tabasco and Worchestershire, to taste (I go for more Tabasco than Worchestershire, but whatever,) and slide the pickle spear into the end result. Set a slice of lime on the edge of the glass, and serve.

3. Train a dog: Of all the things on this list, this one is the easiest one, in my opinion. Then, too, I understand dogs a hell of a lot better than I understand humans. The first step is to understand dogs. After that, to teach a dog "Sit," you take a treat, hold it in front of the dog, and slowly move the treat above and back of the dog's head. As she moves her head up to follow the treat, her rump will drop, and she will sit down. Say "SIT!" the very instant her rump hits the ground, then give her the treat and praise her as if she just built Rome in a day.

2. Replace a flat tire: When you hear that highway starting to whine, and you know that left rear tire is about to blow, here's the plan. It should go without saying, but I'll say it anyway: Make damn sure you have a spare that has and will hold air. A flat spare is as useless as an unloaded gun, an empty keg, or an empty wallet at the titty bar. While the car is still on all four tires, loosen all the lug nuts, either in a cross fashion if you have four lug nuts, or in a star pattern if you have five. Jack the car, using the frame as a jacking point, until the tire is well off the ground. Remove all the lug nuts, and remove the flat tire. Put the spare tire on, replacing the lugs to finger tight in the same fashion as you took them off (Cross or Star, depending.) Lower the car to the ground, and once back on all 4 wheels, tighten the lugs as firm as you can. Hightail it to the closest tire repair shop, keeping to the speed limits of your spare, if applicable.

1. Cook a steak on the grill, Medium Rare. Look, here's the thing: When it comes to Man-Skill, there's nothing that tells folks "I am the MAN!" like being able to cook dead animal flesh over an open flame. This ranks up there with dragging a woman back to your cave by her hair, popping the clutch on a '72 'Cuda with a 454 Hemi, or killing a Kodiak Bear with nothing more than your fists and a Victorinox Swiss Army Knife. This, friends, is REAL MAN STUFF. The weak need not apply. Get a hot grill going. Lots of charcoal, or the gas on high. Scrape the grill clean early, then season the grate with a cloth soaked in oil. Let that oil burn off. During this, take yourself some quality cuts -- I'm a New York Strip guy, but if you want a Ribeye instead, knock yourself out -- and season it. Nothing crazy here, just a light coat of olive oil and some salt and pepper. Both sides, of course. When your grill is nice and hot, plop the steak down. It's going to sizzle. Don't mind that. If it flames, a quick squirt of water with a squit bottle will do, but DO NOT DROWN THE CHARCOAL! Let the steak sear. 3 or 4 minutes a side. Turn, and let sear. 3 minutes, and turn again, with a 1/4 rotation (this puts those nice square sear marks on the steak.) 3 minutes, turn again. 3 minutes, remove from heat, put on a plate and cover with foil. Serve with a loaded baked potato, steamed asparagus, and a big honkin' bottle of wine.

There ya have it, folks. 11 Essential Skills for Every Man. Know them, and perfect them, or be foreever doomed to the realm of "Wussy."

Sorry

2009-08-08T06:56:00.002-07:00

I haven't had much up recently. It's been crazy busy.

Two weeks ago was our quarterly training at work, which meant long days, short nights, and no free time to speak of.

Last week I was on the road for work in upstate New York.

This past week, I moved into my new apartment, and have been dealing with the attendant problems thereof: Finding a place for everything, ordering internet and satellite service, etc. If you're of a mind, I'll gladly accept gift cards to Crate and Barrel, Bed Bath and Beyond, or Target.

Still don't have internet in my place yet -- he comes Tuesday afternoon to install -- and the only unsecured wireless I can find has a weak signal that drops often.

I'll try to get more stuff up when I have a reliable connection, but until then, start working through the links on the left to other blogs.

Cheers, y'all.

Parents

2009-07-25T10:22:00.002-07:00

What the hell is it with parents today?

The woman that lives next door, very pleasant in most regards, has a 10 year old son. The dad is not in the kid's life much, not that that matters.

Now, get this: The kid WANTS to mow the lawn. He enjoys it. And he does a pretty decent job... I've had him mow the yard here, and for $10 he mows, sweeps the clippings from the walk, and puts the mower back in the shed. He will come over and ASK me "Do you need your yard mowed?" A budding business man, at 10 years old.

She, however, hires a lawn service to do her lawn, rather than let her kid mow it.

And her reasoning?

"I don't want him to think he's only good for manual labor. I would rather he spend his time reading, listening to different styles of music, and learning about the arts than doing menial physical labor."

*blink blink*

I mowed the lawn as a kid. It was not only encouraged, but EXPECTED. "You want dinner? Best get the lawn done, then." I didn't much care for it, and instead wanted to go play with my buddies Dean and Eddie, but what I wanted didn't factor into the equation.

Now, however, we've got warm/fuzzy feel-good loonies that don't want their children to learn anything that resembles a work ethic, and instead teach them it's more important to listen to Erykah Badu and look at "Starry Night."

Raising a generation of pansies, we are.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot., over?

The Wisdom of Old Men

2009-07-20T18:55:00.002-07:00

Allingham, who was the world's oldest man when he died Saturday at 113, attributed his remarkable longevity to "cigarettes, whisky and wild, wild women."

I wonder if I could skip the first two and specialize?

The Media is at it again

2009-07-15T14:57:00.003-07:00

From the AP story on the Iranian airliner crash:

Iranian airlines, including state-run ones, are chronically strapped for cash, and maintenance has suffered, experts say. U.S. sanctions prevent Iran from updating its 30-year-old American aircraft and make it difficult to get European spare parts or planes as well. The country has come to rely on Russian aircraft, many of them Soviet-era planes that are harder to get parts for since the Soviet Union's fall.

The Caspian Airlines Tupolev jet's impact plowed a deep, long trench into agricultural fields outside the village of Jannat Abad, and the aircraft was blasted to bits.

So, it's the USA's fault that Iran used an old Russian jet that they can't maintain...

Seriously?

Healthcare

2009-07-15T14:27:00.003-07:00

In case you're confused about the Dems plan for healthcare, you're not alone.

Here's a handy flow chart to help you navigate the issue a little bit better.

04 July 2009

2009-07-04T09:24:00.002-07:00

There's more to it than hot dogs and explosives launched into the sky. Don't forget that.

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Happy Birthday, America. May freedom forever reign.

Inhale, Exhale.

2009-07-02T08:51:00.000-07:00

Her name was Molly.*

Doing what I'm about to do is the direct result of something wholly terrible, yet I'm thankful for the chance to be here, because I can help right a wrong, after a fashion.

For now, though, I'm just breathing. No words come to my lips, no emotion on my face. I'm focused, singly, on a slow controlled inhale, and a slow, controlled exhale. My partner is next to me, and she knows me well enough to read the thoughts behind the look on my face. She's also experienced enough to know that right now, I don't want to talk, I don't want her to talk, and if anyone asks me "You doin' OK, JB?" I'm going to knock their teeth out. Her job, at this moment, is to just be here. That's why she's the best partner I've ever had as a medic.

Inhale. Exhale.

I glance at the door, beyond which sits a monster.

He doesn't look like a monster, of course. The real monsters never do. They look like normal folks. Some tall, some short. Full hair and balding. Square jaw, rounded face. Eyes set narrow to the sun, or thick Coke-bottle eyeglasses. "Just a regular man," you'd hear.

Except he was no man. He was a monster.

I don't want to look at him, yet as your eyes are drawn to a car wreck on the other side of the highway, mine will be drawn to his face. This guy is as regular as regular gets. He's a touch beyond 200 pounds, and tissue that was once muscle has turned soft, the result of too many beers and frozen dinners in front of a T.V. His head sets squarely on his shoulders, though if he had any decency, he'd hang it in shame. The shoulders are broad, and exude a relaxed confidence, as if he knows what's coming and knows he can weather the storm. A Timex on his right wrist -- he's a lefty, apparently -- marks time, and his back is straight. He's crossed his feet as he sits, relaxed.

Inhale, JB. Now exhale. Repeat.

Yeah, relaxed. After what this monster did, he's relaxing. He's relaxed, and I'm a mess of emotions: Anger, grief, curiosity, and perplexity.

And rage. Pure, untempered, primal rage. I want to face him with that rage. To ask him the questions that have burned into my soul since the first moment the dispatch said "Medic 9, Child injured, PD en route as well, RP states father of child is the suspect."

"You think you got enough salt to try that with me? Go ahead.... do to me what you did to her.

"Go ahead. Try to hold me down and force your fat, smelly, drunk-ass body on me, with your pencil dick and smelly breath. Try to touch me in spots that I don't want you to touch. Try it. Go ahead, try. I dare you. Nay, I BEG you to try that with me.

"She was 5 years old, and might have weighed 40 pounds. She called you Daddy. A daddy wouldn't have done this to his little girl. A father would have given his own life to prevent this from happening to his little girl. You're no daddy, you're no father. You're a piece of shit.

"I'm not that small, and I prefer a slightly different term for you than 'Daddy.' Go ahead... try that with me. Let's skip all the rest of this bullshit dog and pony show and get this over with. Don't bother looking at the cops, they won't help you. That, I promise. Let's do this... you, me, and last man breathing walks out of here a free man. Please. Try me."

That's what I want to say. That's what my face, my eyes, and my body language say. But it's not what my mouth says. I want to say it, but I don't. I just breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

Having processed all these thoughts in the two seconds it took me to open the door and enter the room and glance at him, I remember that, despite my rage, despite my anger, despite my visceral desire to exact some revenge for Molly, am a professional and I have a professional duty to do my job. I take that first step to do what I have to do.

The cop reaches toward me, holding a book, and asks me:

"Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you will give to this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

I give the monster one last glance: OK, pal, let's see you worm your way out of this one...You should have taken your chances with me, because Ordinary Decent Criminals in prison don't care much for child molesters. Have fun in there, and I hope you rot in hell.

"I do."

(*Name changed for the obvious reasons.)

I don't feel so wise anymore...

2009-06-25T08:53:00.001-07:00

"Let's take 'em out."

Those four words, spoken as I sat in the dentist’s chair, would portend of things to come, though I wasn’t to fully understand just what those things would be until later.

The wisdom teeth weren’t fully “in,” and weren’t going to get any more “in” than they were now, and since two of them were half-impacted into the soft tissue, they all had to come out. That’s what the oral surgeon said, and he’s the doctor. I can hold my own in discussions about the emergency care of asthma, acute myocardial infarctions, anaphylaxis, or traumatic injury. But I don’t know squat-all about oral surgery, and this guy worked at Emory a while back, and we have some professional colleagues in common, and he’s a Brave’s fan, and he has a 1970 Camero with an LS6 engine and Tremec T56 transmission, so I reckon he knows what he’s talking about.

So the wisdom teeth were coming out. I’d talked my good pal Kim into giving me a ride, and she came through in classic Kim style: 10 minutes late. Since the surgery was slated at 7:30 am, I had to be there at 7:15. Calculating Kim time into the equation, factoring for morning traffic, and the distance involved, we left my house at 6:45. This, of course, meant getting up at 6:00 to walk and feed the dogs. However, the conscious sedation planned for the surgery meant that I was not to eat or drink anything after midnight.

I would like to submit for discussion that requiring someone to be awake at 6:00 am sans coffee should be punishable by firing squad.

I amble back to the room, where a friendly and cheerful (I bet SHE had a cup of coffee this morning!) nurse gets things started: Blood Pressure cuff (112/72) and ECG monitor (Normal Sinus, 62/minute, no ectopy, elevation, depression, or abnormality noted,) and Pulse Oximeter (98%, room air.) Somewhat amusingly, she offers me Nitrous Oxide to “help me relax” before the doctor comes in to start an IV.

Seriously? Nitrous before an IV? You’re telling me that after all those years of wiping off the dirt, making a quick swipe with an alcohol prep, and jamming in the 16g needle while bumping down the pothole laden streets of Atlanta in a 10 year old ambulance with no shock absorbers, that I was doing it wrong?

Hmpf.

I decline the Nitrous, explain that IVs don’t hurt and that I’m a man and can take it. She rolls her eyes in that “Oh, great… another testosterone fueled macho tough guy” way, and replies with an “Oh-kaaay.”

The doc walks in. He swabs the arm, sticks the vein, and mentions “I’ve got an advantage over you… I don’t have to do it while bouncing down the pothole laden streets of Atlanta in a 10 year old ambulance with no shock absorbers.”

The nurse says to me “What is it you do?” and I reply “Now, computer software, but I was a paramedic for more years than I can remember.” She gives me one of those “OK, you score one point for that” grins, and I reply with a wink. Let’s get this over with.

Ahhh…. Fentanyl and Versed: One of the classic combos of all time. Beer and hot wings. Chips and salsa. Laurel and Hardy. Fred and Ginger. Before long, I’m out of it. I vaguely recall the right lower extraction hurting more, and clenching the arm rest of the chair in a death grip with my left hand. I also recall the doctor asking me if I wanted to keep the wisdom teeth, to which I mumbled something that must have sounded like “No, thank you, Doctor,” and slowly coming around a short time later. Kim’s there, giggling at me and my drug-induced stupor, and the nurse is giving Kim some explicit directions about making sure I kept the gauze in place for at least two hours, took my pain pills, stuck to applesauce and pudding for the next couple days, and generally rested the rest of the day. With remarkable concentration, I managed to walk straight (more or less… more less than more more) to the car, and soon enough I’m home.

Post Op Day 1: I’m taking ibuprofen and Lortab as directed, start the antibiotics as directed, and have the great fortune to enjoy a Chateau Rothschild Rinse de Saline, 2009 Vintner’s Reserve. It has a lovely nose, a nice gritty texture with hints of bat urine and a turpentine base. Finishes with tones of formaldehyde and the itch of chewed sumac. Not too expensive, either.

Post Op Day 2: Pain is down, and I can get by with just the ibuprofen. Jaw feels like it met the fat end of a pool cue in a bar fight. Not that I’d know what that felt like or anything. I’ll save the remaining Lortab for another day, or perhaps put them in my backcountry medical kit, should I be out climbing and sprain an ankle or something. Getting pretty tired of pudding and applesauce, though. Sure could go for a more substantial meal… a nice bowl of chicken broth, perhaps.

Post Op Day 3: Dear God, I know I haven’t been to church since… well, a while. I’m sorry, really. I’d offer to go more often in the future, but it wouldn’t do to lie to the Almighty. So I’m only asking that you forgive me for this, and let me eat solid food. Just today, just once. Nothing much… a chicken wing. A roast beef sandwich with havarti, mayo, and lettuce. A boiled egg. A couple pounds of bacon. Anything, anything at all, just don’t make me eat applesauce and pudding again. Amen.

Post Op Day 4: The day starts as usual… coffee, salt water rinse, and pudding, with a side of applesauce. Follow up appointment today at 4:30, and the doctor says two wonderful things: The sockets are healing well, no signs of Dry Socket, and I can eat anything that my pain threshold can tolerate. That means some sushi and Crab Rangoon, and sweeter words have never been said since Becky Valentine told me I could hold her hand in 3^rd grade.

I’ve got another follow up next week, and expect things to be fine.

Now if I could just manage to eat a pizza.

A quick drive-by

2009-06-18T14:10:00.002-07:00

I've been way too busy the past couple weeks to post much. Sorry about that, kinda, but there are things that have to take priority.

I'll try to do better. For now, no news is good news, OK?

Lastly, I had all 4 wisdom teeth removed today. Versed and Fentanyl really kick ass, I'll have you know.

At the moment, it's time to pop another Lortab and take a nap on the sofa.

Today

2009-06-06T06:26:00.001-07:00

We started on a course that would change the world.

On Memorial Day

2009-05-25T07:44:00.002-07:00

Remember the reason for the day.

This essay was written by Dr. John P. Pryor. He was a trauma surgeon who refused to be idle when so many wounded Americans and Iraqis could be helped by his skills. He enlisted in the Army reserve and wrote this article after completing his first tour in Iraq.

"In other fighting, one marine was killed in the Al Anbar providence after a humvee he was riding in hit an IED." That was what I read in the AP news piece. It was one line of several paragraphs that summed up the days casualties in Iraq during another day of the war that has gone on for three years now. These reports are so common, most people do not even read them, or listen to the 30 second blurb that follows, "Another day of violence in Iraq where..." on the evening news. For us, the reality is much different, a horrific drama that is played out in the field, in forward surgery tents, and combat support hospitals every single day.

Today the warning came over the radio, "urgent litter coming in by ground" I immediately respond to the ETR where the buzz is usually in full swing. "IED, Marines" is all the ETR nurse said as I walked in. Damn, I thought. One day left - all I asked God for was no more marines with one-day left on my tour. The hospital staff went into full swing - these people are at the end of a yearlong deployment here, they are experienced, hardened, and cool under pressure. The activity was programmed and efficient. I took my position at the head of bed number one, put my head down and waited.

Within a few minutes the litter team burst into the ETR with the first patient. I could see his arms dangling off the stretcher with bone exposed, and I immediately knew that this was going to be a bad one. When the litter was pulled up aside the bed, I saw the full extent of what I was up against. Driver, I thought to myself. The drivers always seem to get the full force of the IED. There is a pungent smell of
gasoline and burned flesh. My first order of business was to remove the IBA before we move him over; to do this we have to sit him up in order to pull the arms through the IBA sleeves. When we did, his arms, broken in several places on each side, flopped around like a puppet. As we moved him over, I tried to ignore the massive tissue destruction of his legs, and focus on potential life threatening chest and abdomen. He was moaning, actually a good sign, the brain was still getting blood flow. Anesthesia moved to intubate him, as the emergency medicine physician started the primary survey. Nurses started lines, lab was there to bring blood, medics held pressure on bleeding wounds, all in a dance that has been repeated so many times before.

The other patients began to file in, eventually filling the ETR. One soldier in a bed next to ours was calling out to my patient, ignoring his own gaping wounds "Your going be okay man, hang in there." I began to focus on the problem and my plan. Both legs had massive tissue destruction. The left thigh was torn apart and burned with a tourniquet at the groin. The right leg was mangled below the knee with a tourniquet
above that. There was a neck wound that wasn't bleeding and shrapnel to the face. Both arms had multiple levels of open fractures. The pulse was weak and the blood pressure was barely readable. We hung blood immediately. The chest x-ray did not show any thoracic injury. We shot an abdominal film to look for shrapnel that may have gone into the belly - none. As we moved to the OR the hospital commander stopped me to ask if he was going to make it. I told him that I was worried that once we start to resuscitate him, the bleeding would become even worse, and I didn't know if he would make it. His head dropped as he walked back to the chaos of the ETR.

In the operating room we started by getting control of the external bleeding of the legs. There was blood coming from everywhere; bright red arterial blood, dark blue venous blood, and areas where the two swirled together in pools between the flesh. Two orthopedic surgeons and I worked frantically to get control of the bleeding, which as predicted, became worse as we started to resuscitate him. Anesthesia was struggling to keep a blood pressure, infusing unit after unit of packed red blood
cells, and plasma. I was having trouble finding the source of some bleeding high on the thigh, and I was going deeper and deeper into the groin to track down the source. Suddenly my hand broke into a space, and a gush of blood came out. I realized that I was in the retroperitoneal space and the bleeding was coming from here. This was the worse case scenario. Bleeding from this location is the toughest area in the body to control. The packing did nothing; blood flowed from the wound in a constant stream. We opened the abdominal cavity and clamped the arteries that feed the pelvis, but it didn't help. Bleeding from this area is almost always from large veins that cannot be controlled with sutures or arterial control. We packed as tight as we could, and then put a sheet around the pelvis to pull the bones together in an attempt to tamponade the bleeding, but it was not enough. His heart went into a lethal arrhythmia. We shocked him, and pumped epinephrine into his blood stream. After a few minutes, his heart stopped for the last time.

The marine was dead.

There was an immediate silence in the operating room as soon as I announced the time of death. Most of the staff had tears running down their faces; this was a long year for them with so many of these kids dying in this room. I could not physically move for several minutes. I looked at this young kid, a child, and I apologized to him for not being skillful enough to save him. As a trauma surgeon every death I have is
painful, every one takes a little out of me. Loosing these kids here in Iraq rips a hole through my soul so large that it hard for me to continue breathing. After a few minutes, I collected myself and began to direct the care for his final journey home. We closed what we could of the wounds, and wrapped the ones we couldn't get together. We washed all of the dirt and oil off his skin, combed his hair and washed his face. He was transferred to a litter and brought to a private enclosed room where we placed him inside a heavy black body bag. The body was draped with the American flag and a guard was posted. The chaplain gathered some of the providers and we said prayers over the body.

There was, and always is, a palpable grief that comes over the entire staff when we loose an American solider. Everyone is affected, and everyone deals with it in a different way. For me, this is not an objective depressing thing to be a part of; it is very, very personal. I was the surgeon who couldn't save him. For me the grief is intolerable. I become the focus of the morning for the staff- people come and give me a hug. They ask me if I am okay, they pray for me. I appreciate it and hate it at the same time. Often my misery turns into anger. Sometimes I become angry with God for allowing this to happen. I just want the whole thing to be over, and all of these kids to go home to their families and live long lives. I have seen so many soldiers and marines die here; I just want it all to end.

As I made my way out of the hospital, I saw the marine unit gathered together. Two humvees where parked, and weapons were leaning against the vehicle. I notice this immediately because a marine is never without his weapon, they would never be stacked like that. These were the weapons of all the marines injured in the latest attack. I spoke with the first sergeant, the father figure of a marine unit. I know him well, we have lost several of his marines and had many more injured and treated here. We arrange for his buddies to come in and say goodbye, something that I cannot even bear to watch. After a time of reflection, the unit gathers the equipment and prepares to go out again that night. This is some of the raw courage that I talk about, the ability to loose a friend in battle and go right back into the fight. I love every single one of them.

The body was eventually taken to the LZ and loaded into a helicopter with some of his buddies as escorts. He is taken to BIAP where mortuary affairs prepared the body for transport home. A friend of mine was at BIAP when the body was loaded onto the C-130. All activity on the tarmac stops when the casket is brought onto the airstrip. All personnel in the area stop what they are doing and attend a 45-minute ceremony on the airstrip. They tell me that this happens twice to three times a day,
but everyone takes time out to attend the ceremonies. Soldiers manifested in these flights are going home or on R&R, and as anxious they are to leave, they all take the time to honor the marine. An honor guard then brings the flag draped casket onto the aircraft with full military honors. The casket is situated in the center of the aircraft with nothing placed on either side or directly in front or back. Personnel then enter the aircraft and accompany the marine to Kuwait. In Kuwait the casket is removed first, again with a full honor guard. The marine will be brought to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, and then eventually home and to his final resting place.

If I could say something to this Marine's parents it would be this: I am so sorry that you have lost your son. We, above everyone else, know that he was a true American hero. I want you to know that the Marines, medics, doctors, nurses and of the 344th CSH did everything possible to save him. I want you to know that I personally did everything that I could, and that I am sorry that it wasn't enough. I want you to know that although we never knew your son, we loved him. I want you to know that although he lost his life, we preserved his dignity after death. We held his hand when he died and prayed for his soul and for God to give you strength. I want you to know that he had great friends who cared deeply for him and that they were also here when he died. He was never alone for his journey back to you. I also want you to know that I will never forget your son, and that I will pray for him and all of the children lost in this war.

IED - improvised explosive device

ETR - emergency treatment room

LZ - landing zone

BIAP - Baghdad international airport

IBA - individual body armor

R&R - rest and relaxation

CSH - combat support hospital

John P. Pryor, MD was a trauma surgeon at the hospital of the University of Pennsylvania and a Major in the United States Army Reserve Medical Corps. He was the general/trauma surgeon for the 344th Combat Support Hospital in Abu Ghraib, Iraq. John was killed on Christmas day 2008 during his second tour in Iraq.

Vick, the NFL, and Second Chances

2009-05-21T13:36:00.002-07:00

"Does he deserve a second chance?"

Ultimately, that's the question that hangs over the head of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. Goodell has mentioned that he'll consider reinstating Vick only if Vick shows true remorse for his crimes, that he exhibits he has learned from his mistakes, and is willing to lead a better lifestyle befitting a man in such a high-profile role as NFL athlete.

I'm a dog guy. Anyone who knows me knows of my love of, and passion for, dogs. Through all of time, mankind has never created a bond with an animal quite the way we have with dogs.

In the world which we know, among the different and primitive geniuses that preside over the evolution of the several species, there exists not one, excepting that of the dog, that ever gave a thought to the presence of man. ~Maurice Maeterlinck

Dogs have served us in many role: On the battlefield, sniffing out landmines and other explosives; in the wilderness, tracking down missing people and escaped criminals; after a disaster, searching for victims buring in rubble; on the streets, guiding the blind; on the farm, herding cattle, sheep, and other livestock. They love without conditions, have courage without ferocity, serve without expectation of reward, and are loyal without question. They have virtues we wish we had.

Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made. ~ Roger Caras

Being a dog guy, I find the concept of making a dog fight to be abhorrent. I find the idea of killing a dog because "It didn't fight well enough" to be more so. Would that we could apply the same logic to, say, NFL Quarterbacks: "Jeez, Michael, but you were only 10-28 today, for 117 yards, no TDs, and two picks. Best get right with Jesus, and be quick about it. Sorry, but that's how it is."

The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's. ~Mark Twain

We won't do that, of course. A dog is just a dog, and there's thousands of them waiting in shelters, ready to be taken in. We also have a double standard regarding animals. Those who would be quick to condemn the idea of dog fighting have no hesitation biting into steak and eggs for breakfast, or a bacon cheeseburger for dinner. Killing a cow or pig is socially and morally acceptable. Killing a dog is not. Why?

(For the record, I like bacon cheeseburgers, steak and eggs, and chicken wings, so I'm as guilty of the hypocrisy as anyone else.)

Then there's that whole sanctity of human life thing we hold so dear in our country.

Yet our country also holds dear another principle: Redemption. Second chances. Making right by your past mistakes. Paying your debt to society and moving on in life. Becoming a better person.

My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am. ~Author Unknown

It's possible that some folks won't ever get past this event. If Vick gets picked up by a team, they'll have to deal with PETA protesters at every game. There will be signs held aloft, shouts of "Dog Killer!" through a bullhorn, and so on and so forth. These protesters will punish the team for doing what is a basic American concept: Giving someone a second chance.

Does Vick deserve a second chance? I'd have to say he does, even if his crime was, in my mind, rather heinous. I can't deny him the chance to redeem himself, make it right, and learn from the error of his ways anymore than I could deny the same chance to anyone else. Vick had his chance with the legal system. He was sentenced to punishment by that legal system, and completed the requirements of that punishment as laid out by the legal system. He did what America requested of him. Now, America has to uphold it's end of the bargain, and let the man have a second chance. Commissioner Goodell has to uphold that promise as well.

Dinner of Champions

2009-05-18T13:37:00.002-07:00

I made a fast trip home this past weekend to celebrate my Ma's birthday, and part of the deal was that Pops, my Sis, and I were going to treat her by cooking dinner. Normally, Ma does the cooking at home, and she's mighty good at it, but this day was meant for her to relax with her feet up, a drink in hand, and watch us do the work.

We feasted on a grilled pork loin with a sweet and sour apricot sauce, lemon-rosemary roasted asparagus, macaroni salad, a ramen salad, and various appetizers (spinach dip, fresh fruit and cheese, etc.)

The Pork Loin: Fire up the grill. Get 'er nice and hot, and slap that big ol' hunk of dead pig on the grill. Sear the outside on high heat, then turn one burner off and put the loin on that side, using indirect heat to cook. Our loin was about 5 pounds, and took a good hour and twenty to cook. Aim for an internal temp of 150 or so. Remove from the grill, cover with foil, and let it sit for 10-15 minutes to gel.

The Sauce: Mix roughly equal parts of tangy Italian Salad Dressing and Apricot Preserves in a microwaveable dish. Stir, microwave about a minute or so, and stir well. If it's too tangy, add more Apricot preserves. If it's too sweet, add a splash more Italian dressing. Let folks add to their liking over the slices of pork.

Asparagus: Break off the bottoms of the stalks, and spread the 'gus on a plate or cutting board. Lightly drizzle some EVOO (Extra Virgin Olive Oil) on them, and season with salt, pepper, and rosemary (a general "Italian Seasoning" would work.) Add some VERY thin slices of lemon -- just lay 'em on top -- and put all the asparagus in a paper grocery bag, fold it over, and rub more EVOO all over the bag to keep it from burning. Place oil-coated bag in the oven, 400 degrees, and bake for 15-20 minutes.

Macaroni Salad: Finely dice three or four green onions, one large tomato, and four or five stalks of celery. Set aside. Cook up 2 cups of elbow macaroni, drain, and rinse with cold water. In a third bowl, combine 1.25 cups REAL mayonaisse (don't use Miracle Whip, because it sucks donkey balls) with 5 tsp white vinegar and 1/4 tsp each of salt and pepper. Mix well. Combine all ingredients, pour the mayo mix over it, and toss well to coat. Chill the whole thing, and just before you serve, top with real bacon bits.

Ramen Salad: You'll have to ask my sister for this one, cause I didn't make it. But it was pretty damn good.

The guys in the office all laughed at me when I told them I flew from Colorado to Indiana and back in two days, just to have dinner, but they don't know how good that dinner really was. Even my two nephews said so, and ain't no palate that discriminates like the palate of a 9 year old boy.

The Many Faces of Mom

2009-05-10T07:54:00.003-07:00

In turns, she's played the following roles:

Cook.
Driver.
Counselor.
Teacher.
Pusher of the swing set.
Applier of Band-Aids.
Maid.
Travel director.
Assistant Crayon Manager.
Seamstress.
Gardener.
Finder of Lost Toys.
Psychologist.
Laundry Machine Operator.
Day Care Center Director.
World's Greatest Little League Fan.
Bicycle Repair Technician.
Computer Operator.
Financial Adviser.
Rocking Chair Rocker.
VCR Programmer.
Scheduling Coordinator.

And many more.

Salary.com has calculated the salary Moms should get, given all they do, to be around $122,732/year.

I don't know any Moms who make that much, but they're certainly worth a heck of a lot more.

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms who do what they do. Y'all are priceless.

Term Limits

2009-05-03T07:20:00.003-07:00

My buddy TOTWTYTR has a post up in which he states:

I'm pretty sick of the constant campaigning. That applies to both parties. Enough with the constant running for office. Do something that will make me know whether I should vote for you or not, don't tell me how great you are. And no, the media, as usual, is not helping the situation. This constant electioneering is making me like the idea of term limits more and more.

I've been an advocate for term limits for years. If JB were the Benevolent Philosopher King and could change the politician term limits, I'd do it as such:

President: One single 6 year term, with no more than 20 days of it spent doing campaigning for his or her party allies. The President belongs in the Oval Office or at some "World Summit" meeting, not helping a party crony get elected to Wyoming's 5th District. I didn't vote for you so you could give fund-raising speeches. I voted for you so you could get to work.

Senate: Two terms, four years each, no more than 40 days total on the campaign trail to get re-elected. If you work hard enough, and get results, that's all the campaigning you'll need. Oh, and same rule above about helping your party buddies.

House: Same as the Senate.

The very idea that people spend their entire careers in some form of the political "ruling" class runs directly opposite to the original ideas of the Founding Fathers. They structured the Constitution in such a way as to entice your average Joe Citizen -- be he a farmer, businessman, doctor, or other "regular" guy -- to serve a term as a leader, then return back to his farm, business, or patients.

Sadly, we've not had people to meet that vision in generations. The kind of people that would best lead this country don't WANT to be elected. And why should they?

As the great philosopher Groucho Marx once said, "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member." I think most truly great leaders feel the same way about public office.

More on the swine flu

2009-04-30T13:58:00.002-07:00

How the swine flu got it's start

2009-04-27T12:35:00.002-07:00

Dude's got skills

2009-04-20T06:31:00.000-07:00

Pretty clever:

Advice for new EMTs

2009-04-19T05:35:00.002-07:00

EpiJunky has a must-read post for anyone starting out in EMS.

The only thing I'd add to that list would be this: Build, and foster, a passion for learning new things.

I had a good paramedic program, and my instructor was fantastic (Thanks, Dawn!), but I've learned more about medicine out of school than in. I learned from talking to doctors, nurses, and specialty technicians (respiratory therapists, etc.)

I learned from reading books... Taber's Cyclopedia, Merck Manual, and Tintinalli's should be part of your library. A high-fiber diet and comfy toilet seat help promote reading.

I learned from listening to speakers. I learned from debates with EMTs and Paramedics that were much older than me. I learned from the ones that were younger, too.

Every patient you meet is a chance to learn something. It might not be an obvious lesson... you might have to dig around a bit to find out what you can learn, but it's there. Go looking, and eventually you'll be a better EMT for it.

Learn. It'll be the best thing you can ever do as an EMT.

Earth Day

2009-04-19T05:04:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow is "Earth Day," an idea that first came about in 1970. It, like most other official " day" events, is completely pointless.

See, here's the thing: If you care about the environment in a reasonable way -- not like those nut-case people who cry when a tree is cut down -- you act on that concern daily. You walk to the corner coffee shop, rather than drive the one mile distance. You'll ride a bike down to the tavern for a beer, rather than drive.

You spend your money on goods and services that are environmentally friendly. Buy from companies that make wise use of resources. Use products that don't involve harsh chemicals (ever consider using vinegar to clean your windows, rather than Windex?)

You find ways to reuse items, rather than purchase new (my dog's "camping water dish" is the bottom 1/3 of an old gallon milk jug.) You make do with what you have. You turn off the lights, or dial down the thermostat a degree or two.

It's not a hard way to be... small things help, and you don't get lumped into the eco-crazy nutcase group.

But you do these things daily. Not on one day of the year, but all 365 of 'em. And thus, you render Earth Day pointless.

Update: Related thought by John Andrews.

On courage

2009-04-17T09:03:00.000-07:00

TOTWTYTR has a good bit up on what it means to have courage. Go, read.

Tax rant

2009-04-15T18:31:00.002-07:00

OK, so let me make sure I've got this right:

1. I have to pay $60 to purchase TurboTax to do my taxes on line.
2. I have to pay an additional $40 because I lived in two states in 2008, and a second state return is extra.
3. I paid sales tax on both of the above.
4. I have to pay $2067 in taxes to the federal government, over and above the taxes already taken out of my income.
5. Despite paying all this money, I've received absolutely nothing for it, while an unemployed welfare taking, Medicaid recipient mother of seven drives her 2007 Chevy Tahoe, has an iPhone, smoke two packs a day, and wears the latest fashions from FUBU or Gucci.

And THIS is what our current V.P. calls patriotic.

Sod all, I could use a beer.

Health care reform

2009-04-15T13:45:00.002-07:00

Arnold Kling makes an interesting point about government run health care here:

[I]magine that the best hope is a treatment that costs $100,000 and offers a chance of success of 1 in 200. Would I want her to get that treatment? Absolutely.
But look at the issue from a rational, bureaucratic perspective. You have to treat 200 patients at a cost of $100,000 each in order to save one life, for a cost per life saved of $20 million. Is that what a rational bureaucracy would do?

A rational bureaucracy would not even tell the family about this treatment option. But I think that in the American culture regarding medicine, I would find out about it.

He's right, of course, but misses out on one fundamental point: Those who would institute such a government-run, bureaucratic-drive system are not rational.

Lessons learned from the pirate/hostage thing

2009-04-12T12:12:00.002-07:00

1. Do not, do not, do NOT fuck with the U.S. Navy SEALS. Just don't.

2. Obama did the right thing authorizing the rescue mission, and for that I give him due credit. He did a hell of a lot more with this scenario than Carter did when other US citizens were held hostage, lo some 30 years ago.

3. Capt. Richard Phillips should be recognized for his sacrifice, his attempt at escape, and his strength during this ordeal. Rather than lay down and hope for the best, he took it upon himself to at least TRY to escape. Good job, Captain.

4. Do not fuck with U.S. Navy SEALS.

Worth watching

2009-04-11T10:37:00.001-07:00

If this doesn't bring a tear to your eye, you'd best check your pulse.

The Way We Get By.

Hat tip: Don Surber.

There is no snark

2009-04-09T22:34:00.001-07:00

Like Onion snark:

PORTLAND, OR—After carefully examining every inch of sidewalk within a four block radius of his home Tuesday, local dog Sigmund, 4, finally found the absolutely perfect place to squat down on his hind legs and void his bowels. The Labrador retriever mix—who bypassed a series of nearly perfect spots to deposit his feces—scanned the ground for a full seven minutes before eventually locating the 4-by-5-inch region that exhibited an ideal synthesis of ground texture, smell, and plant-life proximity. Sigmund then carefully strained out two and one quarter lengths of excrement onto the ideal site, approximately 11 inches from the curb and 4 inches from a street sign soaked in another dog's urine. This marked Sigmund's most successful location hunt today, surpassing an earlier incident in which the dog found a pretty okay place to vomit.

Kreb, Boyle, and Apologies

2009-04-07T18:26:00.003-07:00

The breakdown of sugars in your body is a natural biochemical process.

It’s really a two step process: glycolosis and the Kreb’s Cycle. In glycolysis, sugar is split into two smaller molecules, and two molecules of Adenosine TriPhosphate (also known as ATP.) In the Krebs cycle, the smaller molecules (called pyruvate) are further broken down, releasing carbon dioxide and capturing the energy of the hydrogens of the pyruvate in molecules called NADH and FADH.

The key phrase in that paragraph is “releasing carbon dioxide." Remember that... it will become important later.

In the world of chemistry, there are certain laws that govern the behavior of gasses. Most of these laws are derivatives of the “Ideal Gas Law,” which is written PV=nrT, where P is Pressure, V is Volume, n is the number of moles of the gas (essentially, how many molecules of that gas are involved,) r is a constant number, and T is Temperature. Boyle’s Law states that the Volume of a gas will vary inversely in proportion to the pressure applied to that gas. That is, if the pressure exerted on a container of gas increases, and the temperature remains the same, the volume of gas will decrease. Conversely, if the pressure decreases, the volume will increase (this is why helium filled balloons will eventually burst as they rise into the sky.)

Boyle’s Law is important.

Commercial aircraft are pressurized. If you flew in a 737 at a cruising altitude of 37,500 feet, the air would be so “thin” that you would not have enough oxygen available with each breath to last more than, oh, an hour (assuming you were in peak physical condition.) Therefore the cabin is pressurized to an equivalent barometric pressure of about 8000 feet, roughly. That is, inside a commercial jet, the air is as “thin” as it would be if you were in the mountains of Colorado, at 8000 feet above sea level.

See, now here’s the thing: When you get that high up, the pressure of the atmosphere is much lower than at lower altitudes. 8000 feet is roughly 22.2 inches of mercury, while 5000 feet is about 26 inches of mercury. Remember Boyle’s Law? When pressure decreases, gas expands? Good.

Now, consider the following: A man is sitting in his house, around 5000 feet elevation, on a brisk Sunday. It’s just chilly enough to justify staying inside, watching Formula 1 racing, eating a pizza, and drinking a couple beers while the fireplace sends forth it’s warmth into the room. For the sake of argument, let’s say he drinks five of these crisp, cold, extra hoppy, wonderfully delicious, and clean-finishing 5 Barrel Pale Ales (made by O’Dell’s Brewing Company, Fort Collins, Colorado.)

He wakes the next morning and boards a plane heading to Texas for a week of work. The Kreb’s cycle does what it does – remember the key phrase? – and Boyle’s Law does what it does, and gravity pulls the whole result downward, until nature takes over and forces an equilibrium.

To the lady sitting on American Airlines #5202, Row 12, Seat C… I’m very sorry.

Add 'em up

2009-04-04T07:18:00.001-07:00

From Dr. Edwin Leap, via my friend Ric, comes this gem:

The Leap Non-Severity Scale:

Profanity:

3 Unable to speak profanity or make profane gestures.

2 Slurs profanity, exposes genitalia or makes confusing lewd gestures.

1 Speaks profanity clearly, but with the same poor sentence structure he or she uses for English. Recognizable, but not very interesting.

0 Profanity used like poetry, flowing and uninterrupted. Suggests physical acts neither legal nor, in many instances, actually possible. Elaborate gestures.

Smoking:

3 Unable to smoke unless actually on fire.

2 Asks for cigarette, but realizes he cannot hold cigarette or inhale smoke.

1 Smokes in room, with oxygen on high flow and friends smoking for company.

0 Wanders parking lot still partially attached to backboard, asking everyone for cigarette.

Violence:

3 So ill or impaired that behavior can be controlled without Droperidol.

2 Threatens doctor and staff with death, but can’t actually move due to pain or disability.

1 Points to each staff member individually and says “I know where you live and I’ll kill you” as police officers hold him down on bed.

0 Actually attacks staff member.

Scoring:

0 - 3: Can be discharged to jail or home without actually being examined.

4 - 6: Probably will require evaluation, although odds of dying still relatively low.

6 - 9: Most likely has real injury or illness. However, requires diligent re-evaluation using Leap Non-severity Scale (LNSS) so that patient can be down-graded as he or she improves or becomes increasingly annoying.

Ward Churchill wins lawsuit

2009-04-02T15:37:00.001-07:00

The story is here.

No doubt he'll claim that he's coming out of this with a victory for free speech and so forth, but I think this part says volumes about what people think of this piece of shit:

The jurors asked: "Judge, we are feeling uncomfortable about the damages portion. Would you be able to meet with us to talk about what is required and other things regarding money? And is $0 an option?"
Naves replied: "I cannot meet with you. Please re-read the instructions concerning damages if you find for the plaintiff but find no damages (you will have to) find in the sum of $1."

With luck, he'll never see the inside of a college classroom again.

Update: Welcome to those visiting via Drunkablog. Glad you're here, and make yourselves welcome.

Oh, coach

2009-03-31T06:39:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I've been an Indiana University Basketball fan since I was old enough to pee in the potty, but I got a good belly laugh out of this:

Complaints

2009-03-30T15:12:00.002-07:00

A good laugh here.

Some people are too stupid to live.

Being a kid again

2009-03-29T07:41:00.004-07:00

You remember when you were a kid, and it'd snow heavily on a school day, and you'd get all excited and giddy watching the TV in the morning in the hope that your school would close for the day, because that meant you could go outside and PLAY in the snow with your buddies?

Doing things like making snowmen, or having snowball fights, or constructing some elaborate snow fort with tunnels and rooms and shelves upon which to store your snowball arsenal for the forthcoming Battle Royale.

You would spend the entire day playing out in the snow if your mom and dad hadn't insisted that you come in for some hot chocolate, but that was OK because your nose was cold and running faster than Marvin Harrison on a deep slant pattern.

Dogs, when they see snow for the first time, get like that, too:

An open letter

2009-03-26T10:16:00.002-07:00

Dear Fellow Denizens of the Denver Metropolitan Area:

I understand the geography. Situated as we are, so close to the mountains, yet with a vast plains just east of us, we're in a "shadow" for weather. Weather fronts move across the high peaks, encountering the cold air and dropping their moisture -- in white, crystalline form -- "up in the High Country," while we enjoy pleasant temperatures, blue skies, and usually little more than a gust of wind during the winter.

Sure, we get a couple cold snaps, with nights of single digits and a hard dusting of snow, but that's winter for ya. However, our best kept secret is that winters in the Denver area are actually quite nice.

Why, just four days ago, it was 70 degrees and sunny, and many of us (myself included) celebrated by climbing in shorts and t-shirts, or played a round of golf, or took the bikes to the trails, or just walked in the park with our dog and lobbed a tennis ball around so Fido could play "Fetch." We were more concerned about sunburn than frost bite. Why, some of us even managed to break a sweat.

But not today. Today, it's snowing. Rather heavily, truth be told. Falling at a rate of 2-3 inches an hour, we've already gotten well over a foot since midnight, and it shows no sign of stopping.

This should come as no surprise. Every TV station, radio station, and weather website has been telling us it was coming since Tuesday. We live about a mile above sea level, and 39° 43'North latitude. It snows here. Every year.

So, with that in mind, I beseech thee:

LEARN TO DRIVE IN THE DAMN SNOW!!!!!

Sincerely,

Are you kidding me?

2009-03-24T10:30:00.002-07:00

I've been busy, and haven't had much motivation to write anything in a while, but this struck me as noteworthy:

The administration has been considering increased oversight of executive pay for some time, but the issue was heightened in recent days as public fury over bonuses spilled into the regulatory effort.
The officials said that the administration was still debating the details of its plan, including how broadly it should be applied and how far it could go beyond simple reporting requirements. Depending on the outcome of the discussions, the administration could seek to put the changes into effect through regulations rather than through legislation.
One proposal could impose greater requirements on company boards to tie executive compensation more closely to corporate performance and to take other steps to ensure that compensation was aligned with the financial interest of the company.
The new rules will cover all financial institutions, including those not now covered by any pay rules because they are not receiving federal bailout money. Officials say the rules could also be applied more broadly to publicly traded companies, which already report about some executive pay practices to the Securities and Exchange Commission.

The Obama Administration wants to tell people how much money they get to make?

Feeling broke?

2009-03-11T11:18:00.004-07:00

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.):

“In just 50 days, Congress has voted to spend about $1.2 trillion between the Stimulus and the Omnibus,” McConnell says. “To put that in perspective, that’s about $24 billion a day, or about $1 billion an hour—most of it borrowed. There’s simply no question: government spending has spun out of control.”

A billion dollars an hour divided among 300 million Americans is about $3.33/hour. Of those 300+ million Americans, only about half of them file income tax returns. So each working American is on the hook for $6.65/hour.

The Fair Labor Standards Act has the federal minimum wage set at $6.55/hour.

The median annual earnings for someone in the labor force age 25 or older were $32,000 (US Census Bureau, 2005), or roughly $15.00 an hour (40 hrs/week, 52 weeks.)

Thus, almost 45% of the an American worker's earnings for the whole year has already been spent.

It's March 11th.

Welcome to a new kind of politics.

Heading home

2009-03-06T16:10:00.002-07:00

Gonna get on a plane in about 30 minutes, from Toronto to O'Hare and then Denver. I'd contemplated sending my luggage via FedEx or UPS, to make sure it actually arrived in Denver, but will take my chances.

I've some interesting observations about EMS in Canada vis-a-vis the US, and will try to put them into some coherent rambling this weekend, if I can. I've got a day of ice climbing planned for Sunday, and various errands on Saturday, including scouting out a place for a family reunion in 2011.

Y'all have a good weekend, and I'll have something worth reading up soon.

Why I hate flying

2009-03-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

Ignore for a moment the fact that United has a direct flight from DEN to Toronto. Just don't ask... taking that flight would have been $400 more and when the airfare is charged to the client, the powers that be decided we should take the less expensive option when possible.

So, at 0630, I arrived at Denver to check in for my 0830 flight. To Houston. Where I'd connect to O'Hare. Then to Toronto.

I know some folks don't care for it, but Denver Int'l is actually an easy airport to get in/out. Check in was a 10 minute procedure, and security took about the same.

But it all went to shit after that. My flight to Houston was bumpy as hell, which meant no beverage service. Me, sans coffee, is not a pleasant sight.

Then I changed to the plane to O'Hare. Which promptly got held on the tarmac at IAH for 40 minutes, because apparently it was too busy in Chicago airspace for one more plane. So we sat. Finally, we flew and landed, 1 hour past our planned arrival.

Which, of course, meant that I missed my flight to Toronto.

And, as I've opined before, there are no decent places in O'Hare to eat or get a decent beer. Nor do they have free Wi-Fi, and I wasn't paying $8 for two hours of web time. So I chocked down two beers from Berghoff, read my book, and waited.

Finally, I got to Toronto. Then the joy of clearing customs. I had to provide proof that I wasn't there to sell anything (copy of the contract with the client) and proof that I had a flight OUT of Canada (flight itinerary) and that I didn't have any drugs, etc.

Stamps on the passport, and off I go to collect my bag.

Which, of course, never made it, and is still in Chicago. File a Missing Bag report. The lady claims it will be on the last flight of the night from ORD to YYZ.

Finally, made it to the hotel after waiting 45 minutes for the shuttle bus... apparently they don't send the bus until you call them first.

This morning, I had to make a fast run to Wal-Mart (I know, DMT, I know... but at 0630, I had no choice) to buy clothing that was presentable enough to wear to the client. Pants, shirt, boxers, socks, and an undershirt. The tag on the boxers said "Medium" and the t-shirt was "XL." Bought, paid, dashed back to the hotel to shower.

Getting dressed, I find that it was the OUTER sticker/price tag that read "medium," but the boxers themselves were 2XL. And that "XL" t-shirt? Yeah, no... small. And no dress shoes in my size.

So there I sat today, in the office of a new client who just dropped a big hunk of change on our software, wearing boxers three sizes too big, a t-shirt too small, and my La Sportiva Exum Ridge trail runners.

Now, I'm back in the hotel, and my bag is still in Chicago. I spent 20 minutes on the phone, restraining my temper because if I tear into the minimum wage schmuck on the phone, she'll never put my bags on the plane. Tonight, she says. Yeah, sure.

I need a drink. And my toothbrush.

A Broadcast Icon

2009-03-02T07:52:00.001-07:00

has died. Rest in Peace, Mister Paul Harvey. Your voice and stories will be missed.

So wrong....

2009-03-01T21:34:00.000-07:00

And yet, so damn funny:

It's been busy this week

2009-03-01T11:29:00.003-07:00

The past week has been crazy busy. I had the usual stuff at work, and some unusual stuff at work.

On Monday, the Support guys were getting slammed with calls, and some of us on the DS side went to help out as much as we could, see if we could knock out a few of the more minor issues. I gotta give much love to the guys and gals who do Support full time. Some of the callers were just foolish, and it's hard to not shake your head in wonder at their stupidity.

Tuesday started with a trip to the dentist for a checkup, x-rays, etc. I haven't been to a dentist in probably two years, but I brush three times a day, floss when I remember to, and haven't noticed any problems. Apparently, however, my wisdom teeth on the right side didn't completely come in, and she recommends that I get them pulled. Next week, when I get back from a work trip to Toronto, I'll make an appointment with the oral surgeon. Sucks, but I guess it's necessary.

Wednesday was more of the same, then dinner with a friend for the Denver Restaurant Week. Three courses, two people, and a glass of wine, for $52.80 total. Very nice. I had the French Onion Soup with Guerye cheese, a roasted Cornish Hen with Rosemary and Lemon asparagus, and the Sauteed Pears on Pear Sorbet. Just outstanding. Alto Restaurant, 14th Street near Market, downtown Denver.

Thursday was another day at the office, but I cut out early to head to see the Banff Mountain Film Festival at the Paramount Theater. It was kinda cool, and I really enjoyed a couple of the films. Two were really crappy, as they spent more time decrying the evil corporations that are slowly killing off the habitat of the Black Footed Water Spider or some crap. I don't like when a film tries to push a political agenda on me. I didn't pay to hear your political views... I paid to be entertained.

Friday, I managed to seriously f*** up the Virtual Machine on my work laptop, and every time I tried a fix, I ran into a different error. If anyone has ideas on how to repair the IIS for a Microsoft Server 2003 VM, please shoot me an email.

Saturday was fun: I got out on some ice near Breckenridge, and although the ice was really crappy in some spots and moderately crappy in the other places, any day you can climb ice is a good day, IMHO. I got back -- after waiting two hours in traffic on I-70 because some asshole using his cell phone managed to hit some other idiot who wasn't paying attention -- and met my friend Deidre to head to a birthday party for a mutual climbing pal of ours. There was beer, which hit the spot after a long day slogging through the hills, and much fun was had.

Today, I'm doing laundry. Nothing glamorous or exciting, but I'm out of clean boxers. I'm also packing, as my flight to Toronto leaves at 9 am.

I'll try to write more later this week... something interesting, witty, and insightful. No promises, though, as my writing muse seems to have skipped town for warmer climates. That tramp.

This ain't fair

2009-02-23T10:47:00.002-07:00

It's almost 60 degrees outside, with partly cloudy skies and a soft breeze.

In Denver.

In February.

And I'm stuck in the office instead of mountain biking on the trails with the dogs.

Not fair, I tell you. Not fair.

I survived the TSA

2009-02-17T19:07:00.002-07:00

Or: "Don't try to fly without your ID card."

Monday morning, I had a flight from Denver to Michigan, via O'Hare, for business. I'd packed the suitcase on Sunday, and set it aside, with my work laptop, a copy of my itinerary, a book on the air war in Europe during WWII, and my coat, gloves, and wool cap.

Monday, I woke at the unholy hour of 0530, and my first considered act was to push "Brew" on the coffee pot. I showered, shaved, dressed, and did my best to bribe my brain into higher function with excessive levels of 1,3,7 trimethylxanthine.

I grabbed the suitcase, laptop bag, coat, gloves, wool cap, cell phone, and paperback book. I snag my keys from the hook by the door, lugged the above items to the trunk, and started the car, heater running, and rear window defroster on.

Back inside, I bowl up some food for the dogs, fill my "go-cup" with more of that hot, black, Costa Rica-grown goodness ("Take this all of you and drink from it. This is the cup of my blood, the cup of ever lasting life.") Into the car, dial the news/weather/traffic station, and start the 35 mile drive to DIA.

Arrive, pull into West Economy Lot parking, snag a decent spot, and lug the suitcase et al to the ticket counter. Wait in line, and only then do I reach for my wallet to do the auto/self check-in stuff (slide your credit card in the slot, it brings up your reservation, prints a boarding pass, and charges you $15 to check one bag.

My wallet. Right here in my back pocket... right here.... uh, maybe in my coat pocket.... no, maybe in the OTHER coat pocket.... uh, shit.

BACK to the car, search in vain, and come to the conclusion that I didn't grab my wallet. No ID. No credit card. No debit card. No company credit card. No wallet.

Self, I said to myself, you've got some talent.

Plan B: I talked to the United ticket agent, who was rather pleasant and tolerant of my sheer stupidity, and she informed me that there was another flight to O'Hare, and I could catch a later flight to Michigan, and that rebooking me would be a snap, and would only cost $150, and she accepts all major credit cards.

*blink blink*

Obviously, that won't work. Nor will my Plan C: I can't leave to go get my wallet, as I have no money with which to pay the 20 minutes of parking that will undoubtedly cost just less than the recent stimulus package.

Plan D: Charm. Pure, unbridled, shameful, unadulterated, and savage charm. The kind of charm that managed to undress Marie Williams on senior prom.

I gave her my best "sad puppy dog" eyes.

Worked, too, because she let me check my bag without paying the $15.

But then she called over the TSA guy to give me a special screening. I was certain this would involve some sort of body cavity search, and while I can be somewhat liberal in certain regards (nekkid hot springs come to mind,) me and my starfish have a rather monogamous relationship. I don't share that part of me with just anyone, ya dig?

Luckily, though, there was no probing of my.... backside... and I just had to answer some questions against a database. He calls a number, gives them my name, and the guy on the phone asks me things like "Month of your birth," and "What is your middle name" and "List every state you've lived in," and so forth. On one hand, it kinda bugs me that I'm in a government database: the federal gubbermint isn't exactly known for keeping secrets well (see: Twitter, Iraq trip,) but on the other hand, they've got the information already, it's probably readily available with a Google Search since I've had an on-line presence for a while, and I really just want to catch my damn flight.

Roommate sent my wallet to the hotel here via overnight FedEx, and I'll be putting my passport and a couple twenty dollar bills in my briefcase, just in case this happens again.

The Notebook

2009-02-14T09:35:00.002-07:00

I've always enjoyed reading Heinlein. One of my favorite quotes is "Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea."

He's also the man who penned the following truisms. Read, think, and try to find one that isn't spot on accurate.

Excerpts from the Notebook of Lazarus Long.

Are you ready?

2009-02-14T07:47:00.002-07:00

Ambulance Driver has a nice blip about being prepared to "bug out," which reminded me of this similar thing I did a while back.

There's also a great deal of interesting related information, via podcasts, here.

It really comes down to one fundamental truth: Nobody is going to take care of you and your family except you. Learn to be self-sufficient, learn to make it on your own, learn to live without having to rely on the gubbermint to provide things to you.

This is not to say that folks should not come together as a community: One of the more inspiring moments in my life came while I was living in Atlanta. We'd had a pretty nasty storm come through -- leftovers from some hurricane or another -- and there were trees down everywhere, sheds blown over, debris strewn here and there... you get the picture. The next day, when things had calmed down and the sky cleared, ordinary people in the neighborhood did an extraordinary thing: they helped each other. Some guys brought their trucks and tow chains, a few others brought chain saws, and they set about cutting and removing trees. One family sent their two teenage sons out with axes to split the newly cut logs, and firewood was divided up. Others showed up with shovels, some brought sledgehammers, and yet others simply brought a pair of work gloves and a willingness to help.

This community did not wait for the county, state, or federal government to come do the work. That would have meant waiting for a needs assessment, then a request form to be sent, then the request form would need to be verified, then a budget office would have to allocate funds to various companies after they submitted a bid to do the work, and only after final approval from the Congressional Office of Procrastination would any work actually begin. No, instead it was a community of people, who had foresight to be prepared, taking care of themselves.

Are you one of those people? Are YOU ready, if the need arises, to take care of yourself and family? Are you sure?

Well, yeah!

2009-02-11T06:18:00.003-07:00

Okay, we all know Guinness is the best possible score on any "What Kind Of Beer Are You" test, so you can just go on and pat yourself on the back now. Like the world's most famous brew, you're genuine, you've got good taste, and you're sophisticated. What else can I say, except congratulations?

Although it originally included this line -- (67% dark & bitter, 100% working class, 100% genuine) -- and I'm not so sure about the bitter part. Dark, perhaps. Sometimes, anyway. But I am NOT bitter and I RESENT being called bitter.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go burn some incense, sit alone in a dark room with one single candle, and put on a Marilyn Manson CD.

Koala video

2009-02-10T20:02:00.002-07:00

If you haven't see this, it is just awesome. I damn near cried.

Whoever that bloke is, good for him. Good for him indeed.

If you haven't been following the world news (because the American Lame Stream Media hasn't shown much of it), Victoria, Australia, is in flames. HUGE fire, thousands of acres burned, 166 dead, hundreds of homes lost.

There are some pictures on the Boston.com website, and Google Maps has locations of all the fires.

Finally, while I know times are tight for all, see about scraping a couple extra dollars together (skip Starbucks for a week and drink Folgers... or switch from Deschutte's Brewing Company and buy some Pabst Blue Ribbon) and send it down under. The Australian Red Cross website is one place to donate.