perfidy

Later that same day, as we continued through the exhibitor tent, we encountered the 101st Airborne’s booth. There we met a very nice young sergeant, who offered to paint John’s face. Not in the sissy manner of most children’s activities, but with camo paint. Here you see the sergeant, and the result:

Murdoc:

Having gotten our fill of things military, the next item on the agenda was a protest on capital hill. When my wife was pregnant with John, she (being the kind of person she is) conducted a thorough, not to say obsessive research project on all things related to child birth and child rearing. Whilst examining the topic of breastfeeding, she got on some breastfeeding email list and they had informed her that they were mounting a PR event next to the Cannon House office building.

It seems that a representative was sponsoring a bill to modify the civil rights law to include protection for breastfeeding mothers in the workplace. Aside from, (I assume) a normal distribution of gender in the fifty or so children there with their mothers, my presence accounted for half of all male participants. Also present were a goodly amount of comfortable shoes, caftans and high tech child mobility devices. While I couldn’t hear anything the representative or any of the speakers said thanks to a substandard sound system, it was my understanding that the aim of the gathering was to amend the law to prevent breastfeeding mothers from being fired for using mechanical breastpumps in the workplace, and to provide tax breaks for companies that provide special rooms for that purpose. I suggested that they be called lactatoriums, but no one was impressed with my creativity.

I was very disappointed in my wife, however, when she removed the camouflage war paint from John’s face. She felt that it might offend some of the more granola-munchy of the participants. My view, based on personal experience, is that loving breasts and loving your country are hardly incompatible, but again my input was not well received. I got strike three when I was not interviewed by the attractive ABC reporter, and was hence unable to use my line, “While I have not had any personal experience with breast feeding in over three decades, I stand four square behind the woman’s right to breastfeed.” Breastfeeders may have won a great victory, but the experience was a bit of a letdown for me. 

The Volokh Conspiracy have a link to a new chess resource, The Chess Predator, which to my admittedly untrained eye looks to be very handy indeed. I'm not much of a chess player. I have never had the wherewithal to play moot games against myself to refine my tactics and strategic thought, and any success I may have had has been thanks to my ability to once in a while pull off a spectacular feat of half-accidental derring-do. However, Goodwyfe Johno periodically reiterates her intention to learn chess, and I periodically get talked into it. Next time, maybe it will stick.

One thing I never understood... when your horsey jumps your castle thingy, does it have to stay all on the black squares?

The Ministry has a funny feeling in its tummy as it announces the assimilation of yet another Minister. Patton, until his recent meltdown, was a prolific and insightful blogger at Opinion 8. But a crack Ministry team of commando psychotherapists, sufis, herbal nutritionists and daytime TV life coaches were (at great personal risk) able to pull him back from the brink. A refreshed, restored, loofahed, and shinily optimistic Patton is now ready to flaunt his unique blogging idiom under the banner of the all conquering Ministry.

To make Patton welcome in his new home, all readers are commanded to think of clever and mildly (mildly!) deprecating snippets to include in the random list of capsule bios that appear under every minister's name in the left sidebar. Any new links for giant fighting robots, zombies, and other species traitors should be sent to Patton, so that he can catch up with everyone else.

A little while back, my wife and her band were on a local morning talk show. Since their slot on the show was at 8:30, and I was still unemployed at the time, we decided to make a day of it in downtown DC. As we wandered toward the Mall, we (I) immediately noticed that there were military vehicles parked in the area between Air and Space and the National Gallery. Eager to look at the instruments of death lovingly crafted by our great nation’s scientists and engineers, the three of us headed toward the scene.

The soldiers were very friendly and informative, and let my son sit in the driver’s seat of a MRLS, and even press the firing button. Sadly, the missiles were not live and we were unable to destroy the Department of Education, located only a couple blocks downrange. Here’s a pic of young John looking warlike:

But the interesting part was when we went through the big tent. The various services, agencies, departments, bureaus and whatnot gathered for Public Service Appreciation day all had booths in which they could tout their contributions to the nation’s security, safety and (in the case of the Marines and Airborne) general stance of extreme lethality and kickassitude. The Marines had a display of the various weapons that they use in persecuting our enemies. There were mortars, squad automatic weapons and at the end of the line, two corporals in charge of explaining and exhibiting an M-16 and its baby brother the M-4.

Being the kind of guy that I am, I asked the two what they thought of the new XM-8, proposed as a replacement for the M-16. Corporal #1 exhibited the extreme conservatism for which military establishments are famed:

“We fear change.”

He went on to opine that the new gun looks like his son’s super-soaker, and no right thinking Marine would want to carry one, though the pansies in the Army can do whatever they want. (I’m paraphrasing, but that was pretty much the thrust of his comments.)

Corporal #2 was more eloquent, but also more favorably disposed to the new weapon. He said that he had actually fired the weapon in Ashkanistan (his word) and was very impressed by the weapon’s recoil system.

“You can squeeze off three rounds on full auto before the barrel even starts to rise. Close groups, easy to handle. The only problem is, three rounds of five-five-six won’t put a jihadi down. Maybe if we could use hollow points or a soft nose bullet, the stopping power would be better.”

I asked about the 6.8mm round that was also being considered.

“That might be an improvement. But small caliber rounds don't work against fanatics.”

A hundred years ago, Marines had a problem with another fanatical insurgency, the Huks in the newly acquired Philippines. We invented an entirely new and larger type of handgun, the M1911 .45 semi-automatic, just because we needed something that would drop a crazed fanatic when the small caliber handgun just wasn’t hacking it. Perhaps it’s time to do that again. Shoot-to-wound strategies might encumber a reasonable army, where the enemy will spend time and effort to care for wounded comrades. Against frankly suicidal Moslem fundamentalists, reverting to a less nuanced shoot-to-kill policy might be a good idea.

And right thinking Americans aren't the only ones on this bandwagon. Via McQ, we find this Telegraph article:

Language, history, cooking and support for rival football teams still divide Europe. But when everything else fails, one glue binds the continent together: hatred of the French. Typically, the French refuse to accept what arrogant, overbearing monsters they are. But now after the publication of a survey of their neighbours' opinions of them at least they no longer have any excuse for not knowing how unpopular they are.

Well, that doesn't exactly beat around the bush, does it? But here are some of the meaty details:

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Britons described them as "chauvinists, stubborn, nannied and humourless". However, the French may be more shocked by the views of other nations.

For the Germans, the French are "pretentious, offhand and frivolous". The Dutch describe them as "agitated, talkative and shallow." The Spanish see them as "cold, distant, vain and impolite" and the Portuguese as "preaching". In Italy they comes across as "snobs, arrogant, flesh-loving, righteous and self-obsessed" and the Greeks find them "not very with it, egocentric bons vivants".

Interestingly, the Swedes consider them "disobedient, immoral, disorganised, neo-colonialist and dirty".

I join McQ in puzzling over why "rude" failed to make the list. And smelly somehow missed as well.

The other night as I was falling asleep, I had what I believe to be two very good ideas for pinatas. (How the heck to you make an en-tilde in this freaky software? Do I need to spell it "Pinyata?")

First: the Adult PinYATA. A normal burro or other shape, but filled with plastic nips of liquor, condoms, and "toys." Hell, packs of cards and poker chips, too. Wouldn't that be a hoot for bachelor parties, birthday parties, or Wednesdays?

Next, the idea that made me laugh myself to sleep: the Revenge PinYATTA. On the outside, a normal grey papier-mache orb. Or why not gaily striped? That's the ticket. On the inside: shards of broken glass, twisted bits of rusty metal, filings, and used hydroponics. Take it to a party filled with people whose lives you wouldn't mind ruining, leave a Louisville Slugger leaning on the tree (for extra PiNNEYATTA Power!!), and make sure you have said your gracious goodbyes before the Revenge starts. The Revenge PINYAHTA: another fine product from the fine people at Mainway Toys.

If you'd have told me five years ago that when I was 30 I would be running a quick 5K at lunch and following it up with more than 300 abdomen-and-back-shapey moves, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Before last July, I had run a full mile exactly two times in my entire life. Now that's my warmup on heavy lifting days.

It is good to hate the French be in shape.

Is there a difference-- any difference-- between "writer's block" and "not having anything to say?"

The Supreme Court has acted in all our best interests, striking down state bans on interstate wine sales.

Ohio wine, here I come!. (Try the Pinot Gris. It's outstanding.)

Darth Vader has a blog. And you know what? It's actually really frigging good. Whoever the author is, he's into his work.