Yeah, I know - pedestrian. But I got it at the
skeet range just southeast of Miramar (ex. "Fightertown") and for reasons
probably having to do with liability they serve nothing stronger
there.
Besides, the night, she is
young.
----------------
Went
and shot with SNO, who has magically and all of a sudden become a crack shot on
the little clay pigeons crossing from left-to-right and back again. I think he
scored a 19 or 20 (out of 24 - he has not quite got the sight picture up at the
top) on his second round. Which beat the old man all
hollow.
And I'm perfectly OK with
that, notwithstanding the fact that it was I who taught him the mechanics of the
big three of combat gunnery: lead, range and plane-of-motion.
"Your powers are weakening old man."
</Darth Vader voice>
Ah, well.
He may have youth, but I have years of treachery on my
side.
-----------------
This story was going to be filed under the
category of, "Huh. Didn't realize that." It has to do with the right of French
mothers to name their offspring after themselves, rather than the heretofore
required patronymic. Part of it apparently has to do with issues of class,
which, protestations to the contrary, apparently still have meaning Over There.
Place the "nobiliary particle:"
de
in front of your surname and move to the front of the Class, apparently.
But this rather dropped on my head
as a bit of a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me
bombshell:
The reform is
important primarily because of France's changing demographics.
Forty-five percent of children
in France these days are born out of
wedlock. In the absence of
declared paternity, mothers are forced to give their babies their own names. The
new law will help remove the stigma of doing that.
(emphasis
added)
Forty-five percent - wow. That
seems kind of high, doesn't it? I suppose from the state's point of view, given
the declining birth rate trend and the concomitant increase in per capita cost
accruing to the replacement work force in order to support the burden of an
increasingly creaky cradle-to-grave welfare system, births, any births at all,
are all to the good. Still, the flip side of that coin, if the European example
is anything like our own, would seem to indicate that such children might end up
a net drain on the social safety net, rather than meaningful
contributors.
My God, those were
awful sentences. Hideous sentences. It's why I never went to grad school to get
my Poli-Sci master's. The strain of writing jargon-loaded sentences like that?
Well. It was just more than I could
bear.
But back to the story - I found
this last bit rather
drôle:
To
ensure that the world at large knows that the baby's lineage results from the
new law and not from historic cases often involving aristocracy, two hyphens
will now be required.
So a
baby given the last names Martin and Dupont becomes Martin--Dupont: "Martin
double-tiret Dupont" or "Martin double-dash Dupont."
Liberte, fraternité,
egalité.
Mostlé.
We
are helpfully informed that
l'etat will not require the double dash to
be pronounced in speech. Just when spelling the
name.
This, I suppose, is what passes
for progress.
Tant pis.
J'aimerais
France.
----------------
To
be filed under the category of: "Fatherhood - simultaneously more (and less)
than you had counted on," I just got off the phone with the Biscuit, on the
topic of authorizing an additional piercing. There is no right answer here of
course - say no, and set up a situation in which your refusal to allow her to
mutilate herself further is prima
facie evidence of your stonewalling,
unreasonable, knuckle-dragging neanderthalhood. Your intransigence will be taken
as justifying, nay - practically begging, for future behavior which might only
be classified as "acting out." And acting out, as every father is acutely
aware, can be a coat of many
colors.
Say yes, and you kick that
particular can down the road a bit. You stall for time on the acting out part.
But you also maybe raise the bar on outrageousness when the bill on acting out
eventually comes due.
What followed
was a series of questions designed to ensure that the piercing was to take place
somewhere conventional
(i.e.,
earlobe only). No other options were to be considered. I made it perfectly clear
that anything other than an earlobe would result in an instant trip to the
emergency room to reverse the procedure. Without anesthesia.
This is what is known to fathers as
"Drawing the Line." It serves to kick the can down the road bit. It stalls for
time.
Meh.
-----------------
I
thought Spanglish
was a wonderful movie by the way. Oh, well - yes. It has that horrible Adam
Sandler in it, but this time he actually chose a role to act, or to act in role,
as opposed to being for 90 minutes his horrible self inside some moveable feast
of alternating sets and casts. Some actors can get a way with that (Jack
Nicholson comes to mind). But Adam Sandler is not in that class. For
me.
Tia Leone was note perfect as the
SoCal equivalent of one of Tom Wolfe's
Bonfire of the
Vanities social x-rays. And Paz Vega,
playing Flor, is a true
discovery.
Yah,
I know - you're not paying me for movie criticsm, and besides you'd all seen it
already by Christmas.
But I've been at
sea, and missed out on all this stuff and am only now catching on. So
there.
Plus that's a really great
picture, and now I've got an excuse to hang it here in case the lawyers from
Columbia come
calling.
-----------------
I
was chatting with a colleague today about my fantasy that I mentioned earlier
this month in Crossroads, the one about being able to split
into two people at every major decision point and then meeting up again at the
old folks home in order to exchange notes on the back porch over a single malt
scotch as the sun went down. (By the way - note to brats: If they don't serve
single malt scotch at the retirement home,
I ain't
going!)
Anyway,
she asked me if I'd change anything, if I could - and I had to admit that the
answer was no. Which felt pretty good to say, once I thought about
it.
Oh, maybe I wouldn't have hit that
corner in the diminishing radius turn on Old Annapolis Road going quite so
quickly in the Jaguar XKE as a midshipman back in 1982. That I'd maybe take
back, if I could. I really did love that car, although it was costing me an arm
and a leg to maintain. And speaking of legs, OK, maybe I'd take back that time I
got run off the road on my old Harley-Davidson Sportster on the drive to Fallon.
That cost me six months of cockpit time, and three months on crutches. But those
weren't really choices, they were accidents. I didn't go out that day trying to
decide whether I'd make it to Fallon or get run off the road just outside
Merced. So I don't think those
count.
But it did bring us to an
interesting question, because part of the whole splitting at each choice concept
is the angst of not being able to fully comprehend the consequences. You make
the best choice you can, and hope for the best, and sometimes the decision rests
on a hairsbreadth of difference. But what if you had a magic kaleidoscope and
looking into it would tell you where you were and what you would be doing ten
years from now, but - importantly - nothing you would see could be changed, the
results would be inevitable.
Would you
look?
Think carefully - this would be
something that once you'd seen it, you could not "un-see."
Suppose you looked and saw... nothing
- nothing at all. You were maybe a person of faith, and you'd have to interpret
this to mean you'd died perhaps and now had some indeterminate time between this
moment and ten years from now to live as well as discovered that there was no
afterlife.
Would you
look?
--------------
Matt,
over at Blackfive has a great post up that Oyster (the second best LSO
I ever knew) cued me into. It's a long one, but a must-read. Sample
graf:
Please, let me tell
you one more story of illustration. I am a personal witness to an event so
extraordinary in today's times, that I would argue it only happens because of a
nation named the United States of
America.
During an attack
on Co F, I watched a Muslim Marine give 175% of his heart, soul and effort to
provide the lethal fires of his 81mm mortar against enemy forces and in support
of his fellow, and brother Marines. His Christian brother Marines, his
Jewish brother Marines, his agnostic brother Marines and his atheist brother
Marines!
He did this
because they ARE HIS
BROTHERS.
Their religion
has no impact. Their ethnicity, no impact. Their economic or social
status, no impact. Their only impact was the Eagle, Globe and Anchor they
all wear as symbols of their brotherhood. Their connection is their oath
to the death that all that shall matter is a person's RIGHT to choose their own
way in this life. Their common bond: shared hardship and a common
goal. No, I argue to all, that while the USMC may fall short of the
perfect, it is the ideal. It is the ideal example of how life should be
lived and shared, not horded or
directed.
---------------
And
with that last link still fresh in your minds (you went there and read it,
didn't you?) here's my parting thought for the weekend: Have you ever sat
comfortably at the window in your home with a blanket over your lap and a warm
cuppa in your hand while the rain and lightening lashed and crashed outside? Is
there anything more wonderfully comfortable than being inside, safe, warm and
content, while the elements contend with themselves for your amusement just
outside, unable to reach you?
Think
about how much the rest of your life is like that all the time. Ask yourself to
whom you owe that sense of comfort, safety and security.
Then say a little prayer for
them.
What could it
hurt?
-----------------
Y'all
have a great weekend!
Posted @
05:51 PM
|
Posted in
""
|
Sendit
|
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
