I will forgive LT Thomas Saenz for graduating from the dreaded land of the Trojans, the University of Southern California (USC):
This image provided by Thomas Saenz, shows Saenz near the tarmac at Kabul International Airport in Kabul, Afghanistan.
He completed his degree online while in-country. So that earns him a pass.
I should not laugh at misfortune, but when the tale is told so hilariously, how can I not but crack up at Ex Bootneck’s dit?
I once came home on leave and arrived at ‘daft-o-clock’ in the morning, having endured an epic journey with very little sleep. I awoke late morning knowing full well that my parents were out at work and that I had the house to my self. After a quick shower & shave I headed down to the kitchen for ‘brunch’ and a pot of tea.
As I was ‘home-alone’ I simply had a towel wrapped around my waist, when the phone rang. As I reached over for it I slipped off the stool and cracked my knee, knocking the pint pot of tea all over the table. I jumped up to grab a tea towel to soak up the mess, and promptly did the splits on the tiled floor; this then led to an outburst of agonised Bootneck profanity that lasted a few minutes…
Just as my little Irish Grandmother stuck her head around the door and said (as she made the sign of the cross), “So your up and about then! Well you can tell Father McBrian all about this at Sunday morning confession, and ask him for ten Hail Mary’s and ten Our Fathers; and Iv’e a mind to wash your mouth out with soap too”!
(‘Gran’ had been in the sitting room all morning, waiting patiently for her blue eyed favourite Grandson to come home on leave)…
I know what soap tastes like from past experience, at least my parents didn’t use ‘Wrights Coal Tar’ carbolic soap, as ‘Gran’ did when we were kids.
Trust me, I’ve my share of boo-boos. I count 14 stitches on my hands alone…
Traveling into work one morning I heard the old (wow, sorry to use that word) 80s song, Valley Girl, by Frank Zappa and his 14 year-old daughter Moon Unit. And I forgot how funny it was. When I got home, I did a little research on Mr. Zappa. He was the son of a Naval Postgraduate School (NPS) professor:
Frank Zappa
Zappa was often sick as a child, suffering from asthma, earaches and sinus problems. A doctor treated his sinusitis by inserting a pellet of radium into each of Zappa’s nostrils; little was known about the potential dangers of even small amounts of therapeutic radiation. Nasal imagery and references appear in his music and lyrics, as well as in the collage album covers created by his long-time collaborator Cal Schenkel.
Many of Zappa’s childhood diseases may have been due to exposure to mustard gas. His health worsened when he lived in Baltimore. In 1952, his family relocated for reasons of health. They moved, next, to Monterey, California, where his father taught metallurgy at the Naval Postgraduate School. They soon moved to Claremont, then to El Cajon, before finally settling in San Diego.
Frank Zappa was also quite conservative in his views:
Describing his political views, Frank Zappa categorized himself as a “practical conservative.” He favored limited government and low taxes; he also stated that he approved of national defense, social security and other federal programs, but only if recipients of such programs are willing and able to pay for them. He favored capitalism, entrepreneurship and independent business, stating that musicians could make more from owning their own businesses than from collecting royalties. He opposed communism, stating “A system that doesn’t allow ownership [...] has–to put it mildly–a fatal design flaw.” Zappa expressed opinions on censorship when he appeared on CNN’s Crossfire TV series and debated issues with Washington Times commentator John Lofton in 1986. He had always encouraged his fans to register to vote on album covers, and throughout 1988 he had registration booths at his concerts. He even considered running for President of the United States.
Zappa did not use illegal drugs. He tried cannabis ten times, but without any pleasure, and “never used LSD, never used cocaine, never used heroin or any of that other stuff.”
And his one-time secretary, Pauline Butcher, has written a book about the man:
Freak Out, My Life with Frank Zappa, by Pauline Butcher
Butcher also believes that Zappa wasn’t really “like” the life that he lived. “Underneath it he was a very conventional character. I couldn’t have done it with the others around at that time – Rod Stewart, Jeff Beck, those crazy people, who took drugs.” Drug-taking, notably, was something that Zappa could not tolerate.
In the world of rock biography, fandom is exploited heavily. Pretty much anyone who can lay claim to some level of articulacy, and who has a modicum of provenance to offer, can find a publisher for their musings. When Butcher sent out her proposal, she received 12 expressions of enthusiastic interest right away. But Butcher’s book is of wider interest. Sure, it describes a formative time in the life of an innovative musical artist, which Zappa most certainly was.
I really am more intrigued by his music, which I know very little of. (Although his children’s names are hilarious: Moon, Dweezil, Ahmet and Diva.)
Nigerian warplanes struck militant camps in the northeast on Friday in a major push against an Islamist insurgency, drawing a sharp warning from the United States to respect human rights and not harm civilians.
But three days after President Goodluck Jonathan declared a state of emergency in the northeast, U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry issued a strongly worded statement saying: “We are … deeply concerned by credible allegations that Nigerian security forces are committing gross human rights violations, which, in turn, only escalate the violence and fuel extremism.”
except to say, we must tread carefully.
I don’t like to beat up a topic; that is, once I publish it, I try to temper my enthusiasm and not continually post on the story. So Lt. Col. Will Adams surprising his daughter Alayna Adams at a baseball game is not new. But these get me every time. I can’t help myself.
Tolerance is an important mechanism of a healthy society. Of course, acceptance and the embrace of certain lifestyles is a whole ‘nother matter.
Do not expect folks to sit by idly as deviance is practiced in public. I’ve lived in the Bay Area and New York City and have seen the “parades” certain groups like to throw. While I will tolerate whatever they wish to do in the privacy of their own home, they lose my goodwill quite easily with their public activities. (I won’t provide links, but if you insist, Google is your friend. Type in Folsom Street Fair or something like that. Remember: what you see cannot be undone.)
That all said, the story of retired Petty Officer Autumn Sandeen, once a male Navy Sailor, strikes me as sad. A lost young man with no Navy warfare devices. Forget about his/her ridiculous gender confusion, where is his ESWS pin? Or his proud A-dub wings?
Update: One of the things that I love about blogging is that it enables the subject of the story to locate folks talking about it. And Ms. Sandeen dropped by with this response:
I’m very much a real US Navy retired Fire Controlman, First Class. I served between 1980-2000. I served on the commissioning crews of the USS Mahlon S. Tisdale (FFG-27) and USS Ford (FFG-54), on the USS Gary (FFG-51) during the Persian Gulf War, and closed out my career on the USS Coronado (AGF-11).
My NECs were 1102 and 1127.
My Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell story is published here: http://preview.hrc.org/issues/3943.htm
One of my regrets of my Navy career is not trying harder earlier in my career to get my ESWS pin. I could list a lot of excuses as to why I didn’t try harder, but there were no good reasons for not achieving the award by the end of my career.
So, no excuses here.
Ah, the USS Coronado, the once-mighty flagship of the 3rd Fleet. My current boss was aboard during the same period. As for the whole transsexual and transvestite movement, I might understand it intellectually, but when I’ve seen them in person, I found it an unnatural experience. As in, going against the laws of nature. I firmly believe you are meant to be the person you were born as. And I can’t change that (my reaction.) I do respect Ms. Sandeen’s service to the country and wish her well in life, even if I find her lifestyle incompatible with military service.
This chart detailing which states cuss the most really gets under my skin. Look what they use as a nick-name for states with potty mouths. Yeah, Sailors:
‘Sailors:’ Following the Buckeye state as the most likely to curse is Maryland, then New Jersey, Louisiana and Illinois, respectively.
One more for you, the countries that are the least racist: United States, Canada, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Guatemala, Britain, Sweden, Norway, Latvia, Australia, New Zealand. (That goes against the grain of the big bad colonialist, sowing discord in peaceful nations.)
In my very brief dealings with them, the Royal New Zealand Navy folks were highly professional and cordial. I wonder how they would feel about this: The 25 Hardest Things About Living In New Zealand. Yeah nah?
On a lark, I responded to an email from a writer seeking an editor on Japan’s Craigslist. She said she was looking for an experienced editor for her novella (a short novel of about 35,000 words.) I responded and received a reply back that was interesting, if not honest.
She told me flat-out the fact that I was a naval officer was not going to work. But she said it would be due to my disgust of the subject matter. Her novella was against the American military and her perception concerning the lack of honor of some of our members. I thanked her for her honesty. That could have been painful. I really am not looking for any more projects, but it caught my eye. Time to put that thing on a strict 24-hour watch. My eye, that is…
There is something about this picture of a Taiwanese Lafayette frigate that appears photoshopped, like it is made of legos. Is it the grey, black, and white paint job?
An S70-C helicopter takes off from the stern of a Taiwanese Lafayette frigate during exercises off the southern city of Kaohsiung,Taiwan.
If you are not familiar with the odd story of Michael Muhammad Knight, you may want to go read his wikipedia page. It is a unique existence he has going for himself what with Tripping with Allah: Islam, Drugs, and Writing. And after all he has “done” he is currently a Ph.D. student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
On one hand, BAMF Bike Co has a sort of libertarian appeal. They cut out the middleman and sell direct to the customer.
Their bikes look clean and tough with none of that stickered bs. And they come in any color you desire, as long as you want black. On the other hand, they sound both vaguely hipster and anarchistic:
BAMF stands for exactly what you think it does. BAMF doesn’t roll like those pretty boys with matching lycra kits and expensive power meters. If you ride a bike, and we mean really ride a bike, you know the cold burn on your face in the dead of winter, the sound of a body hitting the ground and the taste of a warm beer in the morning. You don’t ride so you can shave your legs and drive around town with a bike on the rack hoping to be seen…You hunt those types down and smirk as you rip past leaving them and their GPS and sunblock keychain wondering what the hell happened?
All the BAMF bikes are black (like the guys at BAMF are going to fight over color pallets) and come with minimal decal and a killer 4 color (gold, white, purple and blue) sticker kit for you to create the look you want. Put the stickers on the bike, a cop car or your friend’s back. They take bikes seriously…like tattoos. They don’t want you to show up and see the exact same machine as some poser. BAMF wants you to make it your own. Bikes are a permanent fixture in their life and they pour that passion into their work.
The Piledriver is a serious bike as you can tell from the name. It will turn your world upside-down.
I am not looking to make a statement with my bike. I want high-tech and durable. Without all the punky poser nonsense.
I do not understand people who feel the need to track their life in pictures. There is a thing as too much and I would put Martin Källström’s useless invention Memoto in that category:
“We want to provide people with a perfect photographic memory,” says Martin Källström, CEO of Memoto. His startup is creating a tiny clip-on camera that takes a picture every 30 seconds, capturing whatever you are looking at, and then applies algorithms to the resulting mountain of images to find the most interesting ones.
Källström, a 37-year-old software developer, came up with the Memoto concept in 2011 and began working on it full time the next year with partner Oskar Kalmaru and product designer Björn Wesén.
I will not take kindly to people having one on when I am talking to them.
