Mother's Day. Some sneer at the "Hallmark Holiday", and maybe there's some truth to that - do we really need a holiday to make us realize that we need to celebrate the moms in our lives? Surely every day should be Mother's Day; a celebration of the woman who gave you life (or life to your children) dedicated to reminding her how special she is and just how deeply you appreciate all that she does.
I was fortunate. My mom is a first generation American, growing up the only daughter in a newly-Americanized Italian household. Saying the woman can cook is like saying that the sun is mildly warm - there's a reason I spent the first 35 years of my life overweight. Holiday memories filled with antipasto, lasagna, Italian wedding soup, and pizzelle make up my childhood - imagine what a shock it was for me to discover that most families didn't have a 14 course Thanksgiving meal! But it wasn't just the food, it was the calm, steady hand (that often held the wooden spoon, bringer of pain when I deserved it) and the soothing voice when all was not well.
Now Mrs. G. has the coveted title of "Mom" in my life; I don't mean that she mothers me (although I certainly could use it at times), but that she's the one that responds to the frantic call of "MOOOOOOOM" (usually when I'm only five feet away, too). She's the stereotypical "do it all mom" - working 40+ hours a week, taking the kids to their various and sundry activities, and still finding time to do little things for the kids like leave them little notes in their lunch boxes. She has become the chief applier of bandaids (although I am the official remover of splinters), the finder of lost clothing articles, and the early morning "I feel sick" nurse who makes the official "NO SCHOOL" determination (I get the late-night "I was just sick" calls...)
Kids don't, as a rule, remember to say "thank you" even in regular situations when they know they should. We work with them, reminding them of the "magic words" they need to use; chiding them when they forget their manners and praising them when they do remember. Setting aside one day to specifically thank the most important woman in their lives gives them something concrete they can focus on so that they do remember to say "thanks". For the little ones, have them draw a simple card. For the older ones, have them treat mom to her favorite breakfast in bed. Dress them up. Take mom out for a special brunch/lunch/dinner (I believe I will be grilling steaks later).
And remember to say thank you. Thank you, moms, for all that you do. Thanks to all the moms on the MArooned blogroll, and to all the dads who fill that role as well - my hat's off to each and every one of you. It's a tough, gritty, snotty, dirty, smelly, often thankless job that goes mostly unappreciated - until much later in life when those kids go on to have children of their own. Only then, I think, do we really start to appreciate all that our moms did for us. It's when you hear your son torment your daughter for the 159th time that you hear your mother's exasperated voice come out of your own mouth, and you begin to realize just how much she did for you. Including not selling you to the gypsies when she could have made a few bucks...
And, most importantly, you moms put up with us dads...
That is all.
Showing posts with label Poignant Prose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poignant Prose. Show all posts
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Deathly Thoughts...
I've started reading "On Killing" by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, a long overdue perusal of a most worthy book. It's an extended loan (ahem) from a good friend and commenter here Heath, he of the amazing fu stache and proximity to the World's Most Dangerous Librarian. "On Killing" is a look at the psychology of killing as it pertains mainly to wartime combat, with applications to the most final of outcomes for self-defense.
It's one of the few things that gunnies don't actually like to talk about. Sure, we joke about some goblin who "needed killing" or ponder the many gruesome ways we could dispose of a daughter's ill-mannered suitor, but there's rarely much mentioned about serious situations involving deadly force. We take note of dead goblins, dispatched by civilians, without considering the heavy toll that death takes upon the person pushed to that end, rightfully cheering the riddance of one of society's drains but glossing over the nightmares the private citizen will undoubtedly endure.
It's one thing to point your gun at a paper target, steel plate, or bowling pin. It's when your front sight covers a living, breathing human being that the psychology of killing comes into play - in Grossman's book, he brings up the statistics that, even in the most pitched battles of WWII, only 15-20% of the soldiers on the line actually fired their weapons. The remainder either found other things to do, fired wildly into the air, or simply froze up, unable to bring themselves to take another human life even at the expense of their own lives.
Squeezing that trigger will result in someone losing all of their tomorrows. Now, that someone may very well be coming through the window with duct tape and a butcher's knife in hand with the sole purpose of killing you and your entire family - but the inescapable fact is that with the gun in your hands, as you line up his sternum against your front sight, you will have to make the final, ultimate decision. Your act will result in someone ceasing to be. You will play G-d.
And you have to be ready to play G-d. You have to have made up your mind, well in advance, that you are capable of taking the life of another living, breathing human being. There's no practice for this; the closest would be hunting insofar as you do take a life. But there's a world of difference when it's another human being - that's someone's child you're targeting. It could be someone's father, or brother, or husband - heck, you may very well take a father away from his children. Even if they deserve all that and then some, the choice is in your hands whether they live or die - and you have to be 100% certain that, when the time comes, you can pull the trigger and live with the consequences.
Obviously, there are caveats. We're assuming that there are no other choices; that you've called the police and have screamed that fact until you are hoarse; or perhaps it has happened so fast you haven't had time. We're assuming that you have identified the threat as potentially deadly, either physically seeing a weapon in use or brought to arms or having reasonable suspicion thereof. We're assuming that you or a loved one is in grave, imminent danger - that it's a lot more than some drunken idiot shouting obscenities from the street. Even assuming for the sake of argument that it could very well be Jack the Ripper his ownself come back to life from the dead bashing in your front door with a fireman's axe while screaming "I'm going to eat your heart".
Even with all that said, you've still got to be 100% certain that when the chips are down, you can suppress eons of instinct and taboo against killing another human being and perform the ultimate task. It's not a decision I - or anyone in the gunnie community, I'd venture to guess - take lightly; I would hope we all share the sentiment that we'd be very happy never having to make that choice. The world is not perfect; evil walks among us; and some people just need killing, though - we'd just all prefer that it was someone else doing the killing.
I hope and pray I never have to find out if I have what it takes to actually pull the trigger. I hope I'm never in the position of having to decide to take a human life. I've been close once - threatened with a knife - although at the time I was armed only with adrenaline and a body like a silverback gorilla, and managed to present a large enough adversary that the young man in question realized he might kill me with that knife, but he'd get beaten to death in the process. That moment, though, that it clicked in my head that I might be in moral peril, I felt the beast inside me snarl. It called for blood. It soothed my fear and filled me with a terrible resolve.
It was also the most frightening feeling I have ever felt, and I cannot pray more fervently that I NEVER feel it again.
That is all.
It's one of the few things that gunnies don't actually like to talk about. Sure, we joke about some goblin who "needed killing" or ponder the many gruesome ways we could dispose of a daughter's ill-mannered suitor, but there's rarely much mentioned about serious situations involving deadly force. We take note of dead goblins, dispatched by civilians, without considering the heavy toll that death takes upon the person pushed to that end, rightfully cheering the riddance of one of society's drains but glossing over the nightmares the private citizen will undoubtedly endure.
It's one thing to point your gun at a paper target, steel plate, or bowling pin. It's when your front sight covers a living, breathing human being that the psychology of killing comes into play - in Grossman's book, he brings up the statistics that, even in the most pitched battles of WWII, only 15-20% of the soldiers on the line actually fired their weapons. The remainder either found other things to do, fired wildly into the air, or simply froze up, unable to bring themselves to take another human life even at the expense of their own lives.
Squeezing that trigger will result in someone losing all of their tomorrows. Now, that someone may very well be coming through the window with duct tape and a butcher's knife in hand with the sole purpose of killing you and your entire family - but the inescapable fact is that with the gun in your hands, as you line up his sternum against your front sight, you will have to make the final, ultimate decision. Your act will result in someone ceasing to be. You will play G-d.
And you have to be ready to play G-d. You have to have made up your mind, well in advance, that you are capable of taking the life of another living, breathing human being. There's no practice for this; the closest would be hunting insofar as you do take a life. But there's a world of difference when it's another human being - that's someone's child you're targeting. It could be someone's father, or brother, or husband - heck, you may very well take a father away from his children. Even if they deserve all that and then some, the choice is in your hands whether they live or die - and you have to be 100% certain that, when the time comes, you can pull the trigger and live with the consequences.
Obviously, there are caveats. We're assuming that there are no other choices; that you've called the police and have screamed that fact until you are hoarse; or perhaps it has happened so fast you haven't had time. We're assuming that you have identified the threat as potentially deadly, either physically seeing a weapon in use or brought to arms or having reasonable suspicion thereof. We're assuming that you or a loved one is in grave, imminent danger - that it's a lot more than some drunken idiot shouting obscenities from the street. Even assuming for the sake of argument that it could very well be Jack the Ripper his ownself come back to life from the dead bashing in your front door with a fireman's axe while screaming "I'm going to eat your heart".
Even with all that said, you've still got to be 100% certain that when the chips are down, you can suppress eons of instinct and taboo against killing another human being and perform the ultimate task. It's not a decision I - or anyone in the gunnie community, I'd venture to guess - take lightly; I would hope we all share the sentiment that we'd be very happy never having to make that choice. The world is not perfect; evil walks among us; and some people just need killing, though - we'd just all prefer that it was someone else doing the killing.
I hope and pray I never have to find out if I have what it takes to actually pull the trigger. I hope I'm never in the position of having to decide to take a human life. I've been close once - threatened with a knife - although at the time I was armed only with adrenaline and a body like a silverback gorilla, and managed to present a large enough adversary that the young man in question realized he might kill me with that knife, but he'd get beaten to death in the process. That moment, though, that it clicked in my head that I might be in moral peril, I felt the beast inside me snarl. It called for blood. It soothed my fear and filled me with a terrible resolve.
It was also the most frightening feeling I have ever felt, and I cannot pray more fervently that I NEVER feel it again.
That is all.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Outta the Paaaahhk.
Robb over at Sharp as a Marble has what I consider to be the definitive post on felons and gun ownership. Money quote:
That is exactly my sentiment on the whole shebang. Someone "safe" enough to be released from prison and let out among the general population had better damn well better be "safe" enough to own a gun. If they cannot be trusted with a firearm, how the hell can we trust them with a butcher knife, a chainsaw, or an automobile? If they're so dangerous that we deny them one tool, we should deny them all tools - and at that point, we might as well keep 'em in jail, no?
Go. Read. It's well worth the time.
That is all.
If you are such a danger to society that simply being in a home with a firearm is a crime, you should not be out loose in society. Period. We release people from jail because we consider them to no longer be a threat to those around them. If they are a threat, why are they out in the first place.
That is exactly my sentiment on the whole shebang. Someone "safe" enough to be released from prison and let out among the general population had better damn well better be "safe" enough to own a gun. If they cannot be trusted with a firearm, how the hell can we trust them with a butcher knife, a chainsaw, or an automobile? If they're so dangerous that we deny them one tool, we should deny them all tools - and at that point, we might as well keep 'em in jail, no?
Go. Read. It's well worth the time.
That is all.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Never Again...
Godwin.
I'm invoking it right now, in my own post. I'm going to talk about Nazis. Honest-to-G-d Nazis. Evil personified. I visited the Holocaust Memorial in Boston yesterday. From the New England Holocaust memorial website:
I'm invoking it right now, in my own post. I'm going to talk about Nazis. Honest-to-G-d Nazis. Evil personified. I visited the Holocaust Memorial in Boston yesterday. From the New England Holocaust memorial website:
The New England Holocaust Memorial was built to foster memory of and reflection on one of the great tragedies of our time, the Holocaust (Shoah). The effort was begun by a group of survivors of Nazi concentration camps who have found new homes and new lives in the Boston area. Dedicated in October, 1995, over 3000 individuals and organizations from across the community joined in sponsoring the project.
New England Holocaust Memorial
Also from the NE Holocaust Memorial site is the description of the Memorial:
The design utilizes uniquely powerful symbols of the Holocaust. The Memorial features six luminous glass towers, each 54 feet high. The towers are lit internally to gleam at night. They are set on a black granite path, each one over a dark chamber which carries the name of one of the principal Nazi death camps. Smoke rises from charred embers at the bottom of these chambers. Six million numbers are etched in glass in an orderly pattern, suggesting the infamous tattooed numbers and ghostly ledgers of the Nazi bureaucracy. Evocative and rich in metaphor, the six towers recall the six main death camps, the six million Jews who died, or a menorah of memorial candles.Here are the numbers, literally:
Six million numbers
Each tower represents one of the concentration camps:
Evil Incarnate
Evil. Pure, unadulterated evil, perpetuated by man against his fellow man. An entire religion, targeted by a megalomaniac for extinction, herded into cattle cars and led to slaughter.
NEVER. AGAIN.
This is why we have the Second Amendment, folks. Not for hunting. Not for "sporting purposes". Not for any of the bullshit reasons mealymouthed politicians give for "supporting" firearms or gun rights. We have the Second Amendment as the last safeguard against the cattle cars, against the SS, against the stormtroopers that kick in the doors and slaughter our fellow man based on which deity they worship, which end of an egg they break first, or which side of their face is painted black or white.
I have my rifle, as do countless millions of my fellow Americans. The day some authoritarian nutcase comes to power and declares that certain Americans are to be liquidated is the day that rifle will be needed. "Assault weapons aren't made for hunting". Truer words were never spoken. So-called "assault weapons" are made for personal protection: Owning these rifles by the millions is the best insurance we have that the government will not decide to impose genocide upon portions of our society.
As Pastor Martin Niemoeller stated:
Speak Up
When the time comes, the Second Amendment insures that my rifle can do my talking for me.
That is all.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Veteran's Day...
To all that have served: Thank you. Not just today, but every day. You may not have put your lives on the line, but by stepping up and volunteering to be those rough men [and women] who stand ready to do violence on our behalf, you have kept us safe. We thank you every day, but especially today.
Whereas the 11th of November 1918, marked the cessation of the most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other nations, which we hope may never again be severed, and
Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and
Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples.
Take a vet to lunch. Tell them thanks. Let them know how much you appreciate their sacrifices, and how much you cherish the freedom that they have paid for with their blood, sweat, and tears.
And punch a hippie while you're at it.
That is all.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Reponsibility and the Price of Freedom...
Lissa asks some excellent questions in her post about responsibility. She brings up one of the left's favorite rationales for much of what they do - the children - in the context of health care or a free lunch; the concept that we owe it to the children of the poor to use tax dollars to provide a meal or an ER visit for those who cannot provide it for themselves. It's one thing to tell an able-bodied adult that they have to go hungry if they are not willing to work; it's quite another to tell the five year old daughter of that same able-bodied adult that she can't have lifesaving medicine because her dad has no insurance.
This is where the price of being a free society means dealing with unpleasant choices. Once we start saying we need to make an exception for X, whether X be children, the disabled, or blond guys named Jeff, we start further complicating already difficult matters. As Lissa so rightly points out,
which is a damned difficult question to answer. For a rich nation, for a nation that claims to care about all her citizens, allowing a child to suffer when the means to stop said suffering are readily available seems needlessly cruel and heartless. We have the ability to put a man on the moon, they say; why can't we feed all of our citizens?
The short answer is, because we are human beings, and human beings are venal, short-sighted creatures. While our capitalistic society make seem cold-hearted to those that have not, other societies fare no better in providing for all their citizens. Communist Russia saw lines for staples like toilet paper and light bulbs; North Koreans face food shortages; even our enlightened European brethren face civil unrest, riots, and unemployment. Simply taking more money away from those that earn it is not the answer; else communist nations would never starve; socialist nations wouldn't see their richest members receiving better medical care here in the USA than at home where it's free.
Unfortunately, it's a sliding scale. As Lissa mentions, the surest way to get more of something is to subsidize it; the quickest way to completely and utterly paralyze our medical system would be to remove the need to pay for any of it. Actions have consequences - as we start offering all sorts of "free" health "insurance", costs go up; hospitals close because they're unable to meet their budgets; doctors are squeezed out of their practices by skyrocketing malpractice costs. As more people swarm into the system with no thought of how it's being paid for, they're choking the very life out of the commodity they previously hailed as a "basic right".
Our system isn't perfect; even in our land of plenty folks go to bed hungry. People have to choose between food and medicine. Even worse, our lofty attempts to change this have failed miserably; the laughable "War on Poverty" has done little to end poverty but created a whole new type of second class citizen, a quasi-permanent dependent on governmental largesse. We have by large removed a great portion of incentive for whole groups of people to succeed, offering a mediocre albeit safe life that one need not get out of one's recliner to grasp.
There are hard, hard questions in all of this with no easy answers. For every action we take - offering "free" health care - we run into the law of unintended consequences - fewer and fewer medical students to become doctors in the future. We look to the quick fix - the handout to the family that's going hungry - and wind up with a monstrosity down the road - the welfare state that consumes and consumes, yet produces naught.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This is just as true in society as it is in physics.
That is all.
This is where the price of being a free society means dealing with unpleasant choices. Once we start saying we need to make an exception for X, whether X be children, the disabled, or blond guys named Jeff, we start further complicating already difficult matters. As Lissa so rightly points out,
Children don’t have control over their situation nor the actions of their parents. Is it fair to let children go hungry or without adequate medical care because their parents are too irresponsible to care for them?
which is a damned difficult question to answer. For a rich nation, for a nation that claims to care about all her citizens, allowing a child to suffer when the means to stop said suffering are readily available seems needlessly cruel and heartless. We have the ability to put a man on the moon, they say; why can't we feed all of our citizens?
The short answer is, because we are human beings, and human beings are venal, short-sighted creatures. While our capitalistic society make seem cold-hearted to those that have not, other societies fare no better in providing for all their citizens. Communist Russia saw lines for staples like toilet paper and light bulbs; North Koreans face food shortages; even our enlightened European brethren face civil unrest, riots, and unemployment. Simply taking more money away from those that earn it is not the answer; else communist nations would never starve; socialist nations wouldn't see their richest members receiving better medical care here in the USA than at home where it's free.
Unfortunately, it's a sliding scale. As Lissa mentions, the surest way to get more of something is to subsidize it; the quickest way to completely and utterly paralyze our medical system would be to remove the need to pay for any of it. Actions have consequences - as we start offering all sorts of "free" health "insurance", costs go up; hospitals close because they're unable to meet their budgets; doctors are squeezed out of their practices by skyrocketing malpractice costs. As more people swarm into the system with no thought of how it's being paid for, they're choking the very life out of the commodity they previously hailed as a "basic right".
Our system isn't perfect; even in our land of plenty folks go to bed hungry. People have to choose between food and medicine. Even worse, our lofty attempts to change this have failed miserably; the laughable "War on Poverty" has done little to end poverty but created a whole new type of second class citizen, a quasi-permanent dependent on governmental largesse. We have by large removed a great portion of incentive for whole groups of people to succeed, offering a mediocre albeit safe life that one need not get out of one's recliner to grasp.
There are hard, hard questions in all of this with no easy answers. For every action we take - offering "free" health care - we run into the law of unintended consequences - fewer and fewer medical students to become doctors in the future. We look to the quick fix - the handout to the family that's going hungry - and wind up with a monstrosity down the road - the welfare state that consumes and consumes, yet produces naught.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This is just as true in society as it is in physics.
That is all.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A Warrior's Final Tribute
Portrait of Valor: Hero of Afghanistan Sgt. Jared Monti Wins Medal of Honor Posthumously
These are the people that give me hope for our country. The brave men and women fighting to keep us free; the ones that we don't often hear about. These are the heros, the ones that die doing what they love so that their comrades-in-arms might live. All so that we are free to sit at our keyboards and bicker amongst ourselves regarding the current state of the state.
"If I see far, it is because I have ridden on the shoulders of giants". Sir Isaac Newton quipped something to that effect when talking to his contemporaries; it is never more fitting than now. I am not fit to shine the shoes of men like Jared Monti; all I can do is honor his memory and offer him the praise he never sought, yet truly deserves.
Throw open the doors of Valhalla; a warrior dines with Odin tonight.
That is all.
Soon after Sgt. Jared Monti died -- killed by a rocket-propelled grenade while trying to save a comrade high in the mountains of Afghanistan in 2006 -- his father Paul found hidden in his son's bedroom drawer a bronze star, five Army commendation medals and four Army achievement medals.
"He never told anyone he won them. He was always very humble. He didn't want accolades. He didn't want medals. He wanted his work to speak for itself. When he was a kid he was never one to jump up and down and say 'look at me,'" said Paul Monti.
Soon Monti, 30, will be awarded another medal, the highest award the U.S. military
bestows for bravery -- the Medal of Honor.
These are the people that give me hope for our country. The brave men and women fighting to keep us free; the ones that we don't often hear about. These are the heros, the ones that die doing what they love so that their comrades-in-arms might live. All so that we are free to sit at our keyboards and bicker amongst ourselves regarding the current state of the state.
"If I see far, it is because I have ridden on the shoulders of giants". Sir Isaac Newton quipped something to that effect when talking to his contemporaries; it is never more fitting than now. I am not fit to shine the shoes of men like Jared Monti; all I can do is honor his memory and offer him the praise he never sought, yet truly deserves.
Throw open the doors of Valhalla; a warrior dines with Odin tonight.
That is all.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
We Don't Need Another Hero...
I'm with Robb:
I don't carry a gun so that people around me are safe. I carry a gun so that I, and the little people in my care, are safe. If there's a threat that directly impacts us, I will do my damnedest to neutralize that threat using my sidearm, pocketknife, bare hands, and/or teeth if necessary. But would I intervene to save a third party? That's a difficult question, and one that comes with a host of "what-ifs" and other theoreticals. What if I get sued? What if it's not what it seems?
What if I get killed playing hero and my kids grow up without a daddy? Is the knowledge that their daddy saved someone else (or worse, tried and failed) enough to comfort them every Christmas? Is it worth spending every Father's Day at the cemetary rather than in the backyard because that's where daddy is? Is it worth losing our family home in a lawsuit because daddy's shot paralyzed the poor misunderstood yoot bashing the store owner's head in with a Louisville slugger?
I'm selfish. I say no.
In the mall shooting scenario, my first and foremost thought is of my family's safety. If I'm alone, my only thought is getting the hell out. If the shooter materializes between me and the door; if there's even the slightest chance he'll harm me or mine; well, then it's on. I've got no formal training (something I hope to rectify in the coming year), but I'm a fair shot at conversational distances and I'm not one to fall apart under stress. I will do my level best to do unto him before he does unto me, or die trying.
The only way harm will come to my family in my presence is, quite literally, over my lifeless corpse.
Now, granted, I've never been shot at (been shot once, but that's a story for another time), so I honestly can't say I won't curl up in the fetal position and cry for mommy. I've been in hairy situations before, and gone immediately into fight mode rather than flight, so I have some reason to believe I could make a stand if provoked.
And I'm Italian. You mess with my family, you are a fucking dead man.
But if it ain't family, I just want to get the hell outta Dodge. Maybe that makes me a coward; maybe it makes me less of a man, but to be perfectly blunt, I don't give a hairy rat's ass. As long as my family's safe, the rest of the world can go to hell in a handbasket. That's not to say that I'd pass up a good shot, mind you. I just won't go looking for it...
That is all.
It's a common theme amongst those in the gun community that those of us who carry also add an extra level of protection to others. Sorry, but that's not me. Come hell or high water, when everything goes tits up you're going to find me defending my own flock. If that entails me putting myself in harm's way and engaging the threat and that ends up benefiting your flock, well then, lucky you.Damn straight.
I don't carry a gun so that people around me are safe. I carry a gun so that I, and the little people in my care, are safe. If there's a threat that directly impacts us, I will do my damnedest to neutralize that threat using my sidearm, pocketknife, bare hands, and/or teeth if necessary. But would I intervene to save a third party? That's a difficult question, and one that comes with a host of "what-ifs" and other theoreticals. What if I get sued? What if it's not what it seems?
What if I get killed playing hero and my kids grow up without a daddy? Is the knowledge that their daddy saved someone else (or worse, tried and failed) enough to comfort them every Christmas? Is it worth spending every Father's Day at the cemetary rather than in the backyard because that's where daddy is? Is it worth losing our family home in a lawsuit because daddy's shot paralyzed the poor misunderstood yoot bashing the store owner's head in with a Louisville slugger?
I'm selfish. I say no.
In the mall shooting scenario, my first and foremost thought is of my family's safety. If I'm alone, my only thought is getting the hell out. If the shooter materializes between me and the door; if there's even the slightest chance he'll harm me or mine; well, then it's on. I've got no formal training (something I hope to rectify in the coming year), but I'm a fair shot at conversational distances and I'm not one to fall apart under stress. I will do my level best to do unto him before he does unto me, or die trying.
The only way harm will come to my family in my presence is, quite literally, over my lifeless corpse.
Now, granted, I've never been shot at (been shot once, but that's a story for another time), so I honestly can't say I won't curl up in the fetal position and cry for mommy. I've been in hairy situations before, and gone immediately into fight mode rather than flight, so I have some reason to believe I could make a stand if provoked.
And I'm Italian. You mess with my family, you are a fucking dead man.
But if it ain't family, I just want to get the hell outta Dodge. Maybe that makes me a coward; maybe it makes me less of a man, but to be perfectly blunt, I don't give a hairy rat's ass. As long as my family's safe, the rest of the world can go to hell in a handbasket. That's not to say that I'd pass up a good shot, mind you. I just won't go looking for it...
That is all.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
221 Years Ago Today...
...The Constitution of the United States of America was signed.
How many of our Congresscritters have ever read this document, let alone digest and understand it?
How many hope, nay, depend on the ignorance of their constituency on what this document actually states, as compared to what the politicians claim it states?
What a magnificent piece of work our Constitution is. In a little over 4,000 words, the framework for a system of government unlike that of any previously attempted was laid. 4,000 words. Should be an easy hour's read; perhaps half-a-day to digest entirely (FWIW, I scanned it in a little over six minutes).
And yet we've strayed so far from this hallowed parchment. In some areas, it's been necessary as we added new territory and corrected fundamental wrongs inherent in the society of the time. In other areas, not so necessary, and in other still, downright hostile to the original intent of the Founding Fathers.
How did we get so far removed from the framework laid down, and how can we best get back to it?
That's a question I wish I could answer...
Happy Constitution Day, everyone. Please take the time to read this document today. If you think of it, read it to your kids (I'm going to bore mine tonight). Take the time to educate a friend, a co-worker, a family member. Remember the sacrifices needed to make this document a reality, and the continuing sacrifices made on its behalf to this very day.
That is all.
We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.
How many of our Congresscritters have ever read this document, let alone digest and understand it?
How many hope, nay, depend on the ignorance of their constituency on what this document actually states, as compared to what the politicians claim it states?
What a magnificent piece of work our Constitution is. In a little over 4,000 words, the framework for a system of government unlike that of any previously attempted was laid. 4,000 words. Should be an easy hour's read; perhaps half-a-day to digest entirely (FWIW, I scanned it in a little over six minutes).
And yet we've strayed so far from this hallowed parchment. In some areas, it's been necessary as we added new territory and corrected fundamental wrongs inherent in the society of the time. In other areas, not so necessary, and in other still, downright hostile to the original intent of the Founding Fathers.
How did we get so far removed from the framework laid down, and how can we best get back to it?
That's a question I wish I could answer...
Happy Constitution Day, everyone. Please take the time to read this document today. If you think of it, read it to your kids (I'm going to bore mine tonight). Take the time to educate a friend, a co-worker, a family member. Remember the sacrifices needed to make this document a reality, and the continuing sacrifices made on its behalf to this very day.
That is all.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Quelle Difference...
Q. What's the difference between a good friend and a true friend?
A. A good friend will tell you what you want to hear. A true friend will tell you what you need to hear. Whether you want to hear it or not.
You know who you are, and what I'm talking about. Hope you see this.
Thank you.
That is all.
A. A good friend will tell you what you want to hear. A true friend will tell you what you need to hear. Whether you want to hear it or not.
You know who you are, and what I'm talking about. Hope you see this.
Thank you.
That is all.
Monday, July 28, 2008
More Go Read Now...
Mike over at Mike-istan has a great post deconstructing those insipid "COEXIST" bumper stickers.
He says what I'm thinking, only like way better and without using any four, eight, or 19 letter words (I consider "Dumbass-motherfucker" to be one word).
Go. Read.
(Note to self: Add Mike to the blogroll)
That is all.
He says what I'm thinking, only like way better and without using any four, eight, or 19 letter words (I consider "Dumbass-motherfucker" to be one word).
Go. Read.
(Note to self: Add Mike to the blogroll)
That is all.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Words Fail Me...
For once, I am speechless.
There are no winners in this story, only losers. The parents are divorced, apparently messily; the father appears to have wandered in and out of his son's life, even while he was underdoing cancer treatment; the mother has been negligent in the care of her son for reasons known only to her.
And an 8 year old boy (only a few months older than my own son) faces a 10% chance of living to see his 9th birthday instead of an 85+% chance. As I type this I'm holding back tears. There's no excuse for this. Not here, in MA, where we have world class hospitals dealing in children's medicine. Not now, in 2008, when we've made some pretty significant strides towards treating and beating cancer.
Part of it is because it is so unfathomable to me that a parent could willingly let harm come to their child. I would gladly lay down my life for my kids if it meant they would survive. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would, if need be, kill for my kids - G-d Himself have mercy on the SOB who tries to harm my progeny, for I shall have none. The idea that my child could have a serious disease that is treatable is horrifying; the idea that I could ever withhold treatment is simply beyond my scope of comprehension. I don't care if I have to take on a third job to afford. Tell me what I need to do, I'll do it.
G-d, if you're listening to this heathen sinner, please spread Your protection to this poor boy. Please let him be that 10%. Please.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sign off, because it's raining on my keyboard.
That is all.
PEABODY - Eric J. Fraser wrapped his burly arms yesterday around the slight figure of his 8-year-old son, Jeremy, who doctors say will soon die, allegedly because the autistic child's mother failed to get him needed cancer treatment.
There are no winners in this story, only losers. The parents are divorced, apparently messily; the father appears to have wandered in and out of his son's life, even while he was underdoing cancer treatment; the mother has been negligent in the care of her son for reasons known only to her.
And an 8 year old boy (only a few months older than my own son) faces a 10% chance of living to see his 9th birthday instead of an 85+% chance. As I type this I'm holding back tears. There's no excuse for this. Not here, in MA, where we have world class hospitals dealing in children's medicine. Not now, in 2008, when we've made some pretty significant strides towards treating and beating cancer.
Part of it is because it is so unfathomable to me that a parent could willingly let harm come to their child. I would gladly lay down my life for my kids if it meant they would survive. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would, if need be, kill for my kids - G-d Himself have mercy on the SOB who tries to harm my progeny, for I shall have none. The idea that my child could have a serious disease that is treatable is horrifying; the idea that I could ever withhold treatment is simply beyond my scope of comprehension. I don't care if I have to take on a third job to afford. Tell me what I need to do, I'll do it.
G-d, if you're listening to this heathen sinner, please spread Your protection to this poor boy. Please let him be that 10%. Please.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sign off, because it's raining on my keyboard.
That is all.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Happy Father's Day!
Just wanted to give a shout-out to the other dads out there.
The ones who put it all on the line, bust their humps day-in, day-out. The ones that volunteer to be coaches, or Scout leaders, or mentors. The guys that get up at 4:00 AM to drive a still-sleeping boy to hockey practice. The guy that goes from his 9-5 job to a second job so he can afford to send his kids to private school. The guy that takes time off from work to go to the school plays, the Little League games, the dance recitals.
The unsung hero, the customary butt of all TV and movie jokes. The guy whose reputation takes it in the shorts every time Madison Avenue makes a new commercial, or Diznee comes out with an insipid dad-is-an-idiot movie, or a TV sitcom shows some fat, stupid slob married to a supermodel.
Today's our day. Seize this day. Play with the kids. Ignore the morons. See a movie. Shoot hoops. Take your kid to the range. Go for a bike ride. Go for a Harley ride. Do all the things that you never quite seem to have time for.
Love your kids. Tell them you love them. Hold them tight. Cherish the time you have right now, before they turn into sullen teenagers... And if they are teenagers and they still don't mind getting a hug from dear ol' dad?
Pat yourself on the back for a job well done.
And remember, being a father means you're a motherfucker...
That is all.
The ones who put it all on the line, bust their humps day-in, day-out. The ones that volunteer to be coaches, or Scout leaders, or mentors. The guys that get up at 4:00 AM to drive a still-sleeping boy to hockey practice. The guy that goes from his 9-5 job to a second job so he can afford to send his kids to private school. The guy that takes time off from work to go to the school plays, the Little League games, the dance recitals.
The unsung hero, the customary butt of all TV and movie jokes. The guy whose reputation takes it in the shorts every time Madison Avenue makes a new commercial, or Diznee comes out with an insipid dad-is-an-idiot movie, or a TV sitcom shows some fat, stupid slob married to a supermodel.
Today's our day. Seize this day. Play with the kids. Ignore the morons. See a movie. Shoot hoops. Take your kid to the range. Go for a bike ride. Go for a Harley ride. Do all the things that you never quite seem to have time for.
Love your kids. Tell them you love them. Hold them tight. Cherish the time you have right now, before they turn into sullen teenagers... And if they are teenagers and they still don't mind getting a hug from dear ol' dad?
Pat yourself on the back for a job well done.
And remember, being a father means you're a motherfucker...
That is all.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Quote of the Day™
Today's Quote comes from an old friend of mine:
Oh, should I mention that this friend is a professional writer?
The writers are on strike? Good for them -- stay out for a
generation or more, it can only help raise the IQ of Hollywood output.
Oh, should I mention that this friend is a professional writer?
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Quote of the Day™
Quite possibly the week or even the month. From Tam in this post:
Four sentences. An unpleasant truth wrapped therein, delivered with a heaping helping of snark and a side-dish of irony to boot.
All hail Tamara, goddess of the snark...
Our grandparents survived the Depression and gave Hitler a stomping. Our parents invented Woodstock and made the cops invent tear gas. We watched TeeVee and played Atari, and our children are swaddled in bubble wrap. Devolution in four generations; sic transit gloria mundi.
Four sentences. An unpleasant truth wrapped therein, delivered with a heaping helping of snark and a side-dish of irony to boot.
All hail Tamara, goddess of the snark...
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Quote of the Day™
Comes from Bruce:
RTWT.
Now, I'm not terribly fond of criticizing total strangers, about whom I know very little [not that that's ever stopped me from doing so], but if you have a John Edwards bumper sticker on your car, or a campaign button on your backpack, you are an idiot.
And, not just the garden variety "Why does this milk still taste so funny?" idiot. We're talking the full-blown "tongue in the light socket" grade here.
RTWT.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Seriously Good Stuff...
This is simply too good not to share. Ambulance Driver, Matt G., and BabsRN have written congruent stories sharing their experiences as they relate to a motor vehicle accident. Start with Matt G.'s version as the police officer who's first on the scene, then with AD in triage and transport, and close with BabsRN as the victims are brought to the hospital.
Simply fascinating. Riveting, even. Go. Read. I'll be here when you get back...
...
See? Well worth the read, weren't they?
(Welcome Matt G. and BabsRN to the blogroll, too...)
For me, this series of posts hits home doubly hard. Dad G. is a retired state cop. Mrs. G. works in the local hospital. My cousin Brian was a paramedic in his younger days. I've heard all of these stories before, from each of the perspectives mentioned. Matt, Babs, and AD tie everything together perfectly.
And for not the first (nor last, I fear) time, I am starting to seriously question the path my life has taken. I feel strangely empty inside, with a growing need to give something back...
Thank you, Matt, AD, and Babs, for sharing your stories with us.
Simply fascinating. Riveting, even. Go. Read. I'll be here when you get back...
...
See? Well worth the read, weren't they?
(Welcome Matt G. and BabsRN to the blogroll, too...)
For me, this series of posts hits home doubly hard. Dad G. is a retired state cop. Mrs. G. works in the local hospital. My cousin Brian was a paramedic in his younger days. I've heard all of these stories before, from each of the perspectives mentioned. Matt, Babs, and AD tie everything together perfectly.
And for not the first (nor last, I fear) time, I am starting to seriously question the path my life has taken. I feel strangely empty inside, with a growing need to give something back...
Thank you, Matt, AD, and Babs, for sharing your stories with us.
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