Hat tip to Mostly Cajun, All American and OpinionatedFrom the Sand Pit:
It’s freezing here. I’m sitting on hard, cold dirt between rocks and shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush Mountains , along the Dar ‘yoi Pomir River , watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that leads to a cave. Stake out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands of miles.
Image by Randy Son Of Robert via Flickr
I also glance at the area around my ass every ten to fifteen seconds to avoid another scorpion sting. I’ve actually given up battling the chiggers and sand fleas, but the scorpions give a jolt like a cattle prod. Hurts like a bastard.. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid, but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it or not, they are human beings, which means they have to eat food and drink water. That requires couriers and that’s where an old bounty hunter like me comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnel entrances and storage facilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot the coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the air commanders where to drop the hardware. We bash some heads for a while, then I track and record the new movement.
It’s all about intelligence. We haven’t even brought in the snipers yet. These scurrying rats have no idea what they’re in for. We are but days away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my nickel-plated Bowie knife through his frontal lobe. But you know me, I’m a romantic.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This country blows, man. It’s not even a country. There are no roads, there’s no infrastructure, there’s no government. This is an inhospitable, rock pit shit hole ruled by eleventh century warring tribes. There are no jobs here like we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family: join the opium trade or join the army. That’s it. Those are your options. Oh, I forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened, crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu, if that’s your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those ‘tent cities of the walking dead’ is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
I’ve been living with these Tajiks and Uzbeks, and Turkmen and even a couple of Pushtuns, for over a month-and-a-half now, and this much I can say for sure: These guys, all of ‘em, are Huns… actual, living Huns.. They LIVE to fight. It’s what they do. It’s ALL they do. They have no respect for anything, not for their families, nor for each other, nor for themselves. They claw at one another as a way of life. They play polo with dead calves and force their five-year-old sons into human cockfights to defend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs of savage, heartless beasts who feed on each other’s barbarism. Cavemen with AK-47’s. Then again, maybe I’m just cranky.
I’m freezing my ass off on this stupid hill because my lap warmer is running out of juice, and I can’t recharge it until the sun comes up in a few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a favor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson and that awful, sneering, pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban ’smart.’ They are not smart. I suggest CNN invest in a dictionary because the word they are looking for is ‘cunning.’ The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and hyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless, and when confronted, cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing and destroy everything else. Smart. Pfft. Yeah, they’re real smart.
They’ve spent their entire lives reading only one book (and not a very good one, as books go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil. They’re still figuring out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon, so I have to get back to my hole. Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of practice, but I’m good at it.
Please, I tell you and my fellow Americans to turn off the TV sets and move on with your lives. The story line you are getting from CNN and other news agencies is utter bullshit and designed not to deliver truth but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the commercials. We’ve got this one under control. The worst thing you guys can do right now is sit around analyzing what we’re doing over here, because you have no idea what we’re doing, and really, you don’t want to know. We are your military, and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
Saucy Jack
Recon Marine in Afghanistan
Semper Fi“Freedom is not free…but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share”.
Addict dies as anthrax infects heroin users
By Lucy Christie, Press Association Thursday, 17 December 2009
A heroin addict who died in hospital has tested positive for anthrax, health officials said today.
He died at the Victoria Infirmary in Glasgow yesterday. NHS Greater Glasgow and Clyde said blood tests had shown the presence of the deadly bacteria.
Health officials said another heroin user being treated at the same hospital has also tested positive for anthrax. And a third patient, who is being treated at Glasgow Royal Infirmary, is being tested for anthrax. All three had infections in areas of the body they injected with heroin.
The health board confirmed that the dead drug user was male as is the patient at the Royal Infirmary, while the patient at the Victoria Hospital is a woman.
It is not known if the three cases are directly linked.
The victim is believed to have died from the anthrax infection.
Nazroo, a mahout (elephant driver), poses for a portrait while taking his elephant, Rajan, out for a swim in front of Radha Nagar Beach in Havelock, Andaman Islands. Rajan is one of the few elephants in Havelock that can swim, so when he is not dragging timber in the forest he is used as a tourist attraction. The relationship between the mahout and his elephant usually lasts for their entire lives, creating an extremely strong tie between the animal and the human being. (Photo and caption by Cesare Naldi)
Curious gulls on Sanibel Island, Florida. Meet my friend, "Gull-i-Bel"!!! (Photo and caption by Richard Rush)
Andrew and his friend, a young sperm whale named Scar, were swimming together off the west coast of Dominica. The two of them became "friends" after Andrew saved Scar's life. (Photo and caption by Peter Allinson)
Renault and Ford are working on a new small car for women.
They are combining the Clio and the Taurus, and calling it the
"Clitaurus."
It comes in pink, and the average male thief won't be able to find it,
even if someone tells him where it's parked.
Go over to her blog to find more conversations between characters such as Luke, Han, Chewy, Leah, Darth Vader and Stormtroopers!
Dear Blogger,
Thank you very much for giving so many of us the opportunity to share our feelings, findings and photos with the world at large. I have made new friends, found old friends as well as expanded my mind with your great product BUT why oh why is it so darned difficult to work with?
My award winning and tear jerking posting of last night 'My Brain Beat Me' should have been an easy thing to preview in Google Reader, something like this:
But instead it looked like this;
"Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";..."
Which was rather disappointing as even though it is nonsensical I did in fact not write it.
I spent over 4 minutes writing the post in question, and over 12 minutes thinking about it. Please send me 16 minutes so that I can feel better about Blogger after this controversial and insulting episode. (We know you can do that, you're owned by Google for crying out loud!)
And whilst you're at it please add a YouTube button (also owned by Google) allowing us bloggers easier access to YouTube videos. And a workable retweet button would be useful. And presents, send me presents because I like them.
We came back from a long day out – starting at 0630 departing our house and returning at 1500. With our 9 month old baby boy.
The day included: anesthesia, back to front hospital gowns, participation in a national chemical attack exercise, bumping into 4 friends (what are the odds??). Baby vomiting once. Wife vomiting twice.
Anyway, we arrived home healthy but very tired. Wife went to bed. Baby fell asleep and I decided to watch some TV. I found an old CSI Las Vegas which I still think is a classic. I watched the first minute and then cued it up on the Tivo and made myself a coffee.
But my brain beat me. I wasn’t even thinking about who did it because I didn’t care. And then it hit me. I remembered.
The dentist did it.
Oh bugger. Now I have to watch something else.
Don’t you just hate it when your brain beats you?
Below are some CSI clips for your delectation.
By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY
McClatchy NewspapersOver the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military hospitals.
This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.
Image by mindfrieze via Flickr
Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America Website.
"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands here.
This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.
Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area.
The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. "10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.
"A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.
"Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in the burden ... yet.
"Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.
"Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade officer.
"11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt... Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30.... Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts.
They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the generals. Some are wheeled along.... Some insist upon getting out of their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.
"There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade in the past.
These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.
"Did you know that?
The media haven't yet told the story."
Copied directly without alteration from Michael Yon's amazing blog 'Michael Yon Online'
In well-rehearsed fashion, the four Marines knocked on a farmhouse door, opened it and tossed in a flash grenade before rushing inside.
Marines Net Top Awards in Enemy AmbushThe morning of Nov. 16, 2005, was another day in Operation Steel Curtain to stem the flow of mercenaries entering Iraq from Syria. The end of this particular assignment was in sight as the Marines were running out of houses to check for signs of hostiles on the outskirts of New Ubaydi, near the Iraq border.
Image via Wikipedia
What they couldn't know was that two dozen insurgents had picked the last farmhouse on the road for a final stand.
Phillip Schofield joined This Morning in September 2002 and currently presents the show four days a week.
By the age of ten, he had already decided he would like to pursue a career in broadcasting and began to write to the BBC. He was finally offered a job in September 1979 at Broadcasting House, London, working for radio outside broadcasts as a booking clerk.
Aged 19, Phillip left the BBC to emigrate to New Zealand with his family. He quickly landed a job presenting on Radio Hauraki in Auckland and went on to appear on television. Three-and-a-half years later, he decided that it was time to return to Britain.
Within four months of returning to the UK, the BBC presentation department offered him the job of fronting Children’s BBC from the Broom Cupboard.
Phillip accepted and stayed with presentation for two years. He then went on to present five series of the popular Saturday morning show Going Live, four series of Take Two, three series of his own quiz show, The Movie Game, two series of the highly acclaimed travel show Schofield's Europe and a series of Television's Greatest Hits.
In 1993 he signed a two-year contract with ITV and starred in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat at the London Palladium.
Phillip then took the show around the UK and Ireland from December 1993 until February 1995. In December 1995 he took up the Dreamcoat again at the Oxford Apollo Theatre and in February 1996 moved to the Hammersmith Labbatts Theatre through to the middle of 1996.
In 1996 he also signed an exclusive contract with Carlton Television and presented a number of shows including Schofield’s Adventures in Hawaii (a one-hour special), Schofield’s Quest, two series of Tenball and two Christmas specials: Schofield’s Gold and Six Little Angels.
Autumn 1996 saw Phillip presenting two series, One In A Million and Schofield's TV Gold, followed by a one-off Christmas special, Now We’re Talking. In autumn 1997 Talking Telephone Numbers returned for its fifth series and a further series of One In A Million ran through to July 1997.
Jawa garden Ornament. Me wants one.
Yoda slippers. Not what I want. Ever.
