Two and a half weeks at the salt mines, and by
now you're all probably wondering, "What's for dinner?" I don't know, can't tell
you. This forum has its limitations. But
enough
about you.
It's a huge place, compared
to the old place. In the old place I was a rather large fish in a relatively
small pond. I could, all by myself, change stuff. Make decisions. Some of which
were Loaded With Consequence. Here? Not so much. Here, captains are a dime a
dozen. You can't swing a dead cat through a full circle without knocking over a
raft of O-6's.
Nice place though -
everyone seems friendly and welcoming. I've been offered a Blackberry, because
I'm so very special. Courtesy of the US Navy. Which when you think about it
gentle reader, means courtesy of you. So thank you. Thank you very, very much.
My Treo will no doubt be insanely jealous of the Blackberry competition. I'll do
my best to explain to it that it's not personal, that this is just business. And
maybe let Smash hurl it to the ground. For the sake of equal rights, or summat.
Also! I had need (yes, need!) of a USB
thumb drive thingie. Like all the other captains had. No sooner did I express my
need than one was presented to me: A 1 gigabyte thumb drive. I could lose it in
my pocket, if I wasn't careful. It's that
small.
My first computer had a 20 meg
hard drive. I laughed aloud at the absurdly luxurious excess of all that storage
space - 20 megabytes! What on earth would ever fill that much room? (Note to
younger readers: There
was a
time before digital cameras, and music and even the world wide web. A time when
dinosaurs roamed the earth, and dial-up modems which transferred usenet text
messages at 9600 baud were considered racy. Seriously. Not kidding.)
Really.
Alignment. It's all about
alignment these days, in your Navy. Eventually, we'll all of us report directly
to the Chief of Naval Operations, and then we'll be perfectly aligned. And he
will be very, very busy. Answering phone calls and
such.
Oh, it all makes sense, I guess.
Work smarter, not harder, etc. Reduce redundancies. Search for efficiencies.
Recapitalize. Still, the graph of energy and intellectual capital being
dedicated to how we're going to look next year, as contrasted to what we're
supposedly getting paid to do right now is rapidly approaching asymptotic
levels. And at some level, you need redundancies in a military organization. You
don't want Fireman Timmy to be the only guy who can light the boilers, and then
have him go and wreck his motorcycle on the 8, heading to El Cajon. We're trying
to become more businesslike, but businesses hate redundancies. On the other
hand, I'm pretty sure that we should have enough depth on the bench to take some
losses, because eventually someone's going to try to punch us in the nose again.
Twice.
Oh. And I gave a pitch last
week: The state of the world, and why I should be put in charge of it. It
actually went pretty well, I was roundly congratulated. Nice job. Best yet. Glad
to have you on the team. And then, today, a master chief torpedoman dropped off
his new torpedo readiness assessment instruction. Said he heard that maybe I
should look it over, before it got any higher. It'd be a good idea. 'Cos I'm all
in charge, and everything. Of stuff. Like torpedoes.
Thing is? My knowledge of torpedoes is
probably just as fully developed as yours is - I've seen 'em on war movies.
That's. About. It.
The fall, she is
coming. I feel her in the air. I see her in my rear view mirror. Actually,
that's just the morning dew, but I associate the two. It's getting cool at night
- not quite sweater weather, not yet. But cool. The children are a-flutter with
thoughts of school schedules and teachers and back-to-school backpacks. The
afternoons? They are warm, and sing of Bombay Sapphire gin, and tonic. But the
nights? The nights whisper,
"Bourbon."
And I can't help thinking of
the change of seasons and letting my imagination drift to poor James Lileks, who
I'm not sure is going to make it through yet another Minneapolis winter. Guilty
secret? I still read him every day - but mostly I start at his screedblog,
first. Just in case. Why? Here's why
:
The
chickenhawk argument is...
unpersuasive. But I’ll make a deal: only people with military experience
can discuss matters of national security, and only people who grew up in North
Dakota can judge the movie “Fargo.” I know what you’re saying:
“Fargo” took place almost entirely in Minnesota. Why are you trying
to stifle my dissent?
And:
It
may surprise you, but I
actually have heard that argument before. The one about WMDs. Also the one about
“shifting rationales.” It’s come up from time to time.
Consequently they do not leave me open-mouthed in stunned surprise, unable to
craft a response. So it’s not the show-stopper you think it is, alas.
Everyone always thinks they have some armor-piercing argument the other side has
never considered, but that’s rarely the
case.
I just, you know. He's good. Is
all. When he gets all
screedy.
You have. Well, that's good.
You've probably already thrown something in. Maybe a fin. Prolly something
bigger. But! You've maybe wondered what it's worth, really, your donation. Well,
read this, from down under. From someone who
should know.
Posted @
07:13 PM
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Posted in
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Sendit
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Credo
"Sign on, young man, and sail with me. The stature of our homeland is no more than the measure of ourselves. Our job is to keep her free. Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose we call on the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call, Come to the sea. Come Sail with me." - John Paul Jones
"Pardon him, Theodotus; he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature" --George Bernard Shaw, "Ceasar and Cleopatra"
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."--Friederich Nietzsche
