Wednesday, August 31, 2005

If you aren't soggy, homeless, and have all your fingers, read this

I've had beignets in the French Quarter. It makes me sick to think it's now mostly noted for being flooded with foul water and stupid looters. The Armorer says it all better than I could. There will be time to assign blame, to get heavy with the clue-bat when people (inevitably) will try to rebuild in exactly the same floodable location, but people are hurting NOW. Instapundit is collecting links of places you can send help. The word I'm getting is money is much more useful than goods at this point.

Meanwhile, we still have a war going on. Soldiers need our help too. When you are stuck in a hospital bed, missing crucial bits of yourself and the remainder hurting and not working properly yet, anything that makes you feel like you can contribute -- communicate -- be a part of the world -- keep in touch with buddies still in the Sandbox -- is a wonderful thing. Voice-activated laptops are the way. And Project Valor-IT is gathering momentum!

Shamelessly stolen from the Project Valor-IT blog:

* We have raised over $10,000 (Soldiers' Angels has advanced us additional money)
* Twenty laptop set-ups purchased and shipped (10 have arrived in MD for Bethesda and Walter Reed, and 10 more are in the mail)

Find out more at the Soldiers Angels Valor-IT site (and donate, hint hint!)

Friday, August 26, 2005


Sorry, folks, but I had to turn on the word verification in the comments. A pox on spambots and all their works! I hope they get hives, and that they live next door to a small child trying to learn the violin.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

In which Snarkatron attempts to offend as many people as possible

You have been warned. If you offend easily, need to cut back on stress, or are already having a bad day, you might want to go and look at a kitten instead of reading this.

So, why am I feeling like a dyspeptic badger at the moment? A lot of little things adding up, and the final straw was seeing, as I trundled home from a long day's work, that a neighbor had hung up a spray-painted bedsheet bearing the words "We stand with you Cindy". I like my neighborhood. It was refreshingly low-key politically during the recent fraught election, and it felt like a refuge of sanity. Not that everyone agreed on things, but that we KEPT IT CIVIL. The rest of the world should try it some time, just for variety.

I wasn't planning on addressing the media circus surrounding the new anti-war darling, the mother of Casey Sheehan. My thoughts were not kind ones as I heard the amazingly crude, rude, offensive, and deranged comments from this individual. (As an aside, lady, killing for territory is not an invention of the Europeans. Humans have been doing it since they discovered the fatal transfer of momentum via rock, and Native Americans were doing it to each other when Columbus was still in diapers. Oh, and even the worst multicultis never accused the Evil White people of cannibalism, which did happen during the collapse of the Anasazi culture.) There, my first gratuitous insult! I'm going to hell anyway according to the fundamentalist religious types, so I may as well make it worth the trip.

So .... I listen to all the whining coming from the fruit-loops holding "vigil" in Crawford. I hear moaning about "her child taken away from her" and "why did he die" and the rest. What does this bozo think? She gets to demand meeting after meeting with the President of the United States -- who has more important things to do -- until her son comes back from the dead or Bush breaks down and confesses, sobbing, to setting the IED that blew him up? He knows damn well what the cost of war is. He meets with the families of the dead (including Mrs. Sheehan!) and sees the pain and loss in their faces. He meets with the wounded, broken soldiers that he ordered into harms way. What idiot MoveOn talking points would make more of an impression than that?

I think Cindy likes attention, but that's not the real reason she's out there whining. I have no data on whether or not she loved her son, so let's assume she did. However -- it's pretty clear she's been antiwar for a long time. She had 20 years to convince Casey that she was right, but he voluntarily enlisted anyway. Then she had 4 more years, as he served and saw that the military was, O Horror, actually used for fighting --- and he voluntarily RE-enlisted. Still more time for her to call, write, email, whatever to convince him what he was doing was just for OIIIIIILLLL --- and he volunteered to go out on a rescue mission that ended in his death.

It's not really about the President. He's just a proxy for Casey. She wants to win the argument with her son, and he's inconveniently and permanently beyond her reach.

Oh. Looks like there are still some un-offended people out there. Um, Mac users think training wheels are fashion accessories! Yes, you look fat in that dress! Meat is yummy! War IS the answer! Pave the Arctic! Unilateral Cowboys are Cool! The Sun is causing Global Warming!


(if you are still un-offended, leave a note in the comments and I will do my best to accommodate you.)

Thursday, August 18, 2005

De re media

We are told that the constant drip-drip-drip reportage of US casualties in Iraq is simply a consequence of market reality. Blood sells. Violence sells. There's no blood or violence in a new school opening (unless you are in Beslan ...)

I have to confess, I'm not that excited about the grand opening of new sewage treatment plants. That part they (unfortunately) have right. I just have one question.

Why is it only American blood that sells?

Why isn't it front page news when the Iraqi police successfully defend one of their stations against a terrorist attack, with no casualties on their side and all but one attacker killed? (the survivor captured). That's blood, that's violence. Americans also love stories of the plucky underdog fighting back and winning. I'd say the IP, where they get blown up applying for work, blown up going to work, and generally blown up, is pretty damn plucky.

You'd think all the pullout whiners would be all over this stuff, since it is making clear the Iraqis *can* defend themselves, bringing closer the day when we hand over the whole thing and go home. You'd think all the "big picture" reporters would want you to know the context of 14 Marines dying. If they were just on a beer run (gee thanks, "Over There" bozos) that's one thing. If they were in the process of eliminating 300 bad guys, capturing a head honcho of the quote insurgency unquote and his personal collection of SAM missiles -- well, call me gullible but I think that changes the context a tad.

It's only death the media sees. Jason van Steenwyk, he of biting wit, did a little research on the reporter who had the nerve to blame the White House for the dearth of news articles. Seems out of 18 articles on the military, every blessed one was about death or recruiting difficulties. Gee. No bias there ...

Every life is precious. They know why they are there, know they have been placed in harm's way, and they think it is worth it.

Free as in Freedom. Not Free as in Beer.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


The moonbats really need to get some fresh scriptwriting talent on board. If I had a dollar for every time I've encountered some variant on the "sending x's children off to fight and die", I wouldn't have the hassle of a commute. Since I have the priviledge of seeing the real (not media-sanctioned) pictures of these "children", there is a sense of confusion because they look like adults to me. Very capable adults. Adults, in short, capable of making up their own minds about VOLUNTEERING and understanding the reasons why they are fighting and yes, dying.

But enough about them. Let's talk about me. According to Moonbat Theology those poor misguided chillun aren't nearly as culpable as I am. Your humble Snarkatron, you see, has the nerve to a) support the war in Iraq and b) never darken the door of a recruiting center. This makes me (according to them) a raging, 24-carat hypocrite. A chickenhawk. I send other people's children (see above) to die for OIIILLLLL! but I'm not willing to go myself because I might get killed and that would put a crimp in my world domination plans.

Perhaps this is an unintended consequence of the moonbat's characteristic fixation on the methods, tactics, and strategies of Vietnam, although the firm belief in the military's need for cannon fodder is more WWII-era. They must not have gotten the memo about the tooth-to-tail ratio (the number of people actually going out and shooting bad guys vs. the number of people back in the base driving trucks and sorting ammo). It has, shall we say, changed. Moreover, should I do as the moonbats scornfully suggest and attempt to volunteer, I very much doubt the military would want me. After all, I'm only months away from the maximum signup age, my 1 mile run time is not very spectacular, my three words of Arabic are completely useless for interrogations, the finer points of manual transmissions continue to elude me, and I've yet to make a successful landing in Flight Simulator. Yeah, I'm a recruiter's dream.

But even if I was 28 and in killer shape, I don't know if I'd join up. I've never held moonbats in much esteem (hence the name) so their opinion of me has little weight. I'd be more worried if they approved of me. No, the important opinions are those of the soldiers over there. THEY know what they need. Strangely, I haven't heard one yet complaining about people not joining when they support the war. I *have* heard many, many complaints about how they and their mission are being portrayed in the media back home. About how the liberals only seem to care about them when they are dead. That nobody seems to hear about the progress made or the good things that have happened.

That's part of why this blog got started. I feel it is my obligation to speak out to support the soldiers and their mission. Not as glamorous even as being an Army truck driver, nor as dangerous. Doesn't mean it doesn't need doing. When a serving soldier tells me I should enlist, I'll listen. Until then, I will do my level best to cause chaos and confusion in the moonbat colonies. Telling the truth is usually all it takes.

Lance in Iraq
Castle Argghhh!
Mudville Gazette
Uncle Jim
Froggy Ruminations
Michael Yon

and many, many others


Have you ever gotten the shakes because you couldn't check your email? Discovered the simplest tasks suddenly become major efforts with your off-thumb in a cast? If so, you will sympathize with the soldiers with injuries that impede or prevent their use of a computer keyboard. Being stuck in a hospital bed is no fun anyway, and that just makes it ten times worse.

A Plan is afoot to help fix that problem. We are arranging for laptops, speech-recognition software, training, and money to pay for it all. Go to Soldier's Angels and do what you can. Money helps, but if you are low on cash, spread the word. That helps too. The blogosphere is a vast entity and you never know where the tipping point might be.

Source: Our Fearless Fuzzy Leader

Friday, August 05, 2005

He's back!

The wonderful and funny Religious Policeman has returned to blogging after a worrisome hiatus. I was concerned he had attracted unhealthy attention from the authorities. Since he's currently in the UK instead of Saudi Arabia, I think we'll get to revel in his dry wit for a while. And he won't be looking over his shoulder for the *real* religious police. He's said some things they would not approve of AT ALL. Go thou and read the delights therein! Camel-blogging! Cat-blogging! Many snarky comments about Saudi government, lack of women's rights, and booze! Something for everybody ....

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Paper targets fear me!

The very nice Barb-lady invited me to join her at the local gun range and try some of her many guns. This was my second time ever firing real weapons, and I was quite pleased that I managed to wound *my* target and not someone elses. (Bad memories of bowling ... you are supposed to stay in your own lane. Sometimes I didn't. So in the interests of public safety I refrain from bowling.)

We played with -- if I remember correctly -- Smith&Wesson .20 and .40 pistols. The kick of the .40 was not as bad as I feared, and I did manage to hit the paper more than once with that gun too. So if I'm ever attacked by a paper target I feel reasonably sure I can defend myself.

A good time was had by all. Except for the targets. Like the cartoon says, "Bummer of a birthmark, Hal."