big cliché

I listened to Kerry's speech again today and it is, in my summation, rather uninspiring. I got the distinct impression he wasn't saying "Vote for me because I'm John Kerry, and I'm the best man for the job." but rather "George Bush has screwed things up so horribly, I can't possibly do worse!"

Granted that is reading between the lines a bit, but on a serious note I don't think he really came up with anything new regarding what I would guess a majority of Americans consider important policy items. His points were all about how he could fix what he perceived to broken as a result of our current administration. Not a very good sell.

In any event, I did get one tasty sound bite. Now I personally have pointed the finger at Bushy for his annunciatory hijinks, so it is only fair that I present Kerry's as they occur.

In his speech, he mentioned that 25% of all kids in Harlem have asthma as a result of the hair pollution. I wouldn't kid you, friends. Hair pollution.

So, without further delay, I give you Hair Pollution by John F. Kerry.

Yahoo! News - World Photos - Reuters

Have all the garlic you want on your fettuccini, but just not before boarding the tube!

SUBWAY Demeans America to Peddle Sandwiches Abroad

Kelly pointed this one out (see permalink) and I find it reprehensible that an American company would allow it's franchise owners to take shots at it's own countrymen to make a buck.

I'll be crossing Subway off 'the list' too. Well, that won't be much of a change. I don't think I've had a Subway sammich since Panera opened here in Norman.

Since I started that last post, I have been listing to the scanner. I am listening to 4 different agencies in the hope that I might hear something interesting. So far, nada. You would think between the Norman PD, Moore PD, Cleveland CO Sheriffs and OK Highway Patrol, I would hear at least one car chase.

Nope.

Not even one of the ever popular domestic disturbances.

Man, Thursday night has gone down hill.

Tonight was the final night of the DNC, which, of course, culminated in John accepting his party's nomination. 

His speech was, well, I'm not quite sure yet because I missed the last half, again.  Stupid paperwork.  I MDed it, so I'll listen to it tomorrow and I may even post something.  Who knows? 

One part that did catch my ear was the speech made by the former senator from Georgia, Max Cleland.  I know nothing about Max, other than he was the first one I heard to mention...gasp...religion!  I thought the room was going to implode when he said that he had (paraphrasing) pressed his childhood bible into Kerry's hand and told him to hang on to it and rely on it for the strength and inspiration it had provided him for so many years.  Obviously, Mr. Cleland is a God-fearing man, but Kerry's comment later in his speech: "I don't wear my own faith on my sleeve" just rang kind of hollow to me.  Especially from a man who said he will "Protect Women's Health And Right To Choose".  Now I'm all about women's health, but that "right to choose" still sounds like murder to me.   

Albright's speech was just so much bla, bla bla that I couldn't stay focused, except for that one bit (see below).  

His daughters' introductory speeches were a nice touch, and I think genuinely heartfelt.  Perhaps a bit sappy, but I can only imagine what kind of emotional overload that whole family must be experiencing this week, so I'll forgive them that.  The bit about JK supposedly giving her hamster CPR straight cracked me up because we all know that hamsters are disposable pets.  As I said earlier today, they are goldfish with fur coats.  And lungs now that I think about it a bit more. 

All in all, it has been an interesting week and I am really looking forward to seeing what the Grand Old Party can whip up in New York--and it better be good.  Some of those speeches this week actually had me thinking "you know, that's a good point".  But then Albright invoked the name of the AWB, and I snapped back to reality (at least I think it was Alright.  They don't have tonight's transcripts up yet, so if I'm wrong...oh well.  If it wasn't her, it was one of the others).  Looking over johnkerry.com, I still can't find anywhere in print where he will stand up and say how he feels about gun control.  At least Al Gore was up front with his national handgun licensing idea.  The fact that he only says that he will stand up for hunters' rights, but not much else makes me leery of what he isn't saying.   

I don't know if this weeks festivities are going to have any effect on the undecideds or fence-sittin' voters, but it certainly got the delegates all fired up, and like I mentioned earlier, some of those speeches had a few "things that make ya go hmmmm".  

Of course, that was the purpose of the convention, now wasn't it? 

I just listened to Bill Clinton's speech from Monday night again.  Yep, I MDed it because I was trying to get the night's paperwork finished at the same time and I knew I would miss some of the finer points. 

While I still don't agree with his politics, I now remember why he won his bid for re-election in November '95--Bill's got skills!

Quiz: Does Your Weblog Own You?

Here's a little something Jason found. Most of us should probably take the test. Currently, I am only at 31.25%. Is that a bad thing?

Well another tour 3 food day is in the books and it was all good. 

Paul made moussaka, Chris brought deviled potato salad, Neil brought some sweet chcochip cookies, Dave contributed the shrimp cocktail, and I made roasted chicken with red peppers and pearl onions.  Jason made fragrant Jasmine rice and Rob, as usual, provided the dinnerware and Dr. Pepper.  Oh yes, Dave also brought in a mini cheesecake that is not bad at all for one that is still frozen!

Quite an ecclectic mix, but that is to be expected when the theme is Surf OR Turf.  Meaning that if it came from the earth, roamed the turf or swam the seas, rivers or lakes it was fair game. 

Tasty, indeed. 

textus perscribo: Social Security

Everyone should read this. Seriously. Thanks, Dusty, for putting it up.

Just a quick one here, kind friends.  It is getting late, and I don't want to be up for the next hour editing and re-writing. 

Today (or more accurately, yesterday) we all (In OK anyway) had the chance to exercise what I consider to be our greatest civic duty.  Yep, that's right: voting.  I almost forgot until I saw all the supporters, waving campaign signs, posted outside the polling locations.  Needless to say, I took time on my (now mandatory) lunchbreak to drive down to the church and cast my votes.  My ballot was number 201 on the machine, so voter turn out was almost twice what I saw last time.  

I hope your candidate did well, unless he/she was running against mine!  I can't stress enough how important I feel it is that you register and then follow through by getting to the polls and voting!  Even you are voting Democrat, just freaking do it!

On a somewhat related note, Rob W's wife took her message to the streets today and demonstrated what one motivated woman with a sign can accomplish. 

When I got back from voting, Rob told me that he may have to go bail his wife out because she was picketing their local quickie-mart for selling...crack pipes!  They were selling little novelty pipes that were, according to the police, honest to goodness crack pipes.  Unreal.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Rob's wife had made a sign and was dutifully marching up and down the sidewalk educating the masses.  Oh yeah, turns out they were also selling smokes to way underage kiddies, which is always bad mojo.  So the owner calls in the man, and they give her a bit of attitude before she straightens them out and gets the owner of said quickie-mart to show the fuzz their lovely crack pipe selection, which he had tried to hide under the counter or something equally lame.  

She got an apology from the responding officers and will have a signed, notorized affidavit proclaiming that the owners will no longer sell crack pipes, or risk a $10,000 fine if they are caught doing so, by c.o.b tomorrow. 

You go, Mrs. W!

Yahoo! News - Offbeat Photos - AFP

That must have been some baaaad lunch.

Anybody else catch any of the Democratic National Convention, kicked off tonight in Boston?

Man, that was a hoot!  I started listening around 8pm, after having almost completely forgetten that it had, in fact, started today.  No worries, though--I did get two solid hours of righteous propaganda, as well as getting to hear Slick Willy do his best to drum up support for the DNC's next best hope.  Darn shame about those term limits, eh? 

I tell you what,  listening to the speakers tonight, including two former presidents, really made me realize that I am the problem.  Yes, me.  According to the speakers tonight, Republicans are at fault for everything from the Israeli/Palestinian conflict to starving children.  Man, are we evil or what?

It was all standard party line crap, but lest you think me naive, I know full-well that the RNC will be rolling out our standard party line crap next month.  Wouldn't it be great if Chevy Chase would do one of his lame vaudevillian falling-down-the-stairs bits, then jump up and declare the RNC open for business by proclaiming "LIVE FROM NEW YORK..."?

Oh wait a minute, he wouldn't do such a thing because he is a solid hollywood lefty.  Silly me, I almost forgot.  Or maybe I forgot because I am a Republican, and as such must surely be responsible for early onset memory loss.

Double dang.  The longer I listened, the more shame I felt for being the absolute scum of the earth.  How can I be so bad?  How is it that I can't see that John Kerry is the future of this country?  How could I not see that he will bring 10 million jobs back to America and cut the deficit in half?

Could it be because I'm not wearing my official DNC-issued rose-colored glasses?

I think that might have something to do with it.

Yahoo! News - Sports Photos - AP

How 'bout those French? Invite the world to come over, compete, have a little brie maybe, then get all pissy when an American whoops their asses?

I hope he dominates the last two stages, then stands up and thanks the whole country with sincerety just to show them how a real sportsman handles himself.

Can you beleive people are spitting on him as he passes?

Let's elaborate on the earlier post, shall we? 

I have always held this completely baseless belief that any day that starts at the range is a good day.  Really now, how can spending time propelling copper-jacketed lead downrange at a piece of paper have any measurable effect on the outcome of the day?  Nonetheless, I was really hoping my unfounded theory would hold true today, especially with it being Friday. 

You see, Friday is typically the day at work where everyone in the country realizes, at the same, time that they have down systems and will be on bare-minimum, weekend staffing starting around 3pm in their local timezone.  This generally means that the sites with down equipment will call in somewhere around the last ten minutes of their shift and demand that we get a technician on the next plane headed for their facility and they mean now, Mr.  When I first started this job, I used to get miffed that anyone could be so impudent as to wait 'til the last minute, then call in making all kinds of demands.  Even more so given that we are on weekend staff too!  Not any more though.  I just make sure it gets to the proper specialist and wait for the decision. 

So given that today was Friday, and I started the day out at the range, there was the very real possibility that my misguided little theory could tumble to its death on the barren, jagged, precipitous face of reality where so many others lie strewn about like the fallen leaves of autumn. 

I'm happy to report that my theory stands!  My day was great.  Jason had a rough go if it though, since he was in the hot seat, so his opinion may differ.  The 'hot seat' is a call center phenomenon that occurs when one person will be force-fed all incoming calls because the other operators are already on calls, or on break.  It is kind of like when you can't get a word in edgewise at a party because everyone else is talking.  You get stuck listening, so to speak.   

As for the last minute on-site support requests?  They just didn't happen today.  To be truthful, it has been a bit slower of late, mostly because of the summer vacation season.  No worries, though, it will pick back up soon enough. 

By the way, I was at the range to familiarize Chris S. with the Beretta 92fs, or as the military calls it, the M9.  He'll have to qualify with it next week for his other job but hadn't fired one before.  So it's out of bed at 10am and up to OKC for a quick trip to H & H.  That's right, I said 10am.  Did you think I was going to turn down an opportunity to A) help a friend and B) get some range time?  I don't think so.  Incidentally, he whooped down on those evil paper targets.  They didnt' stand a chance.

On the way up there a lightbulb snapped on in my head: "Hey, I'll be in OKC for lunch!"  Remember folks, it was early.  I grabbed up the mobile and called The Shop.  "Hello, this is Wayne, is Jeff in?"  "Nope, he's out in the field".  I almost asked which one.  "Alright, I'll try him later".  Fortunately I had his mobile number with me and about an hour later we were having lunch next to this wanna-be art installation in the CityBites just east of Reno and Meridian.

Good company, a  good sandwich, and an hour at the range--perhaps now you see why I had high hopes for the day?  It ended on an equally high note as well.  By the time I got out of the shower tonight, dinner was ready to be enjoyed.  Aimee made a big pot of pinto beans, homemade spanish rice (no rice-a-roni around here!) and cornbread muffins!  Talk about comfort food. 

Speaking of muffins, I think I'm going to have to get one of those orange-cranberry delights Aimee whipped up last night, make a nice cup of tea and plop down right in front of the tv. 

Aaah, what a Friday.

Homemade Orange-Cranberry Muffins 


2 cups all -purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 beaten egg
1 cup fresh squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup cooking oil
Zest from two large oranges
1 cup dried cranberries

In a mixing bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.  Make a well in the center.  Combine egg, orange juice, and oil; add all at once to flour mixture.  Stir just till moistened (batter should be lumpy) then stir in orange zest and cranberries.  Lightly grease muffin cups or line with paper baking cups; fill 2/3 full.  Bake in a 400° oven about 20 minutes or till golden.  Remove from pans; serve warm.  Makes 12.

I have been at work now for 34 minutes.  So far, so good. 

I am trying to prove my theory that nothing bad can happen on a day that starts at the shooting range. 

And I have the ancient Chinese double-good luck on my side, since I had lunch with Jefe. 

More to come.

You know we cause about 98% of our own headaches when it comes to computers, right?  I think I have been doing a bit better than that over the last 3 hours.

I noticed the other day that C:\ is getting a bit low on space, so I decided to try to add some space to it without having to reformat.  Well, I briefly (this, as usual, turns out to be my downfall) read over the instructions on how to do this in the disk management part of XP.  First thing I noticed is that the volumes have to be NTFS.  Great, mine are all formatted as FAT32. 

No real biggie though, I just moved some stuff around, did a little 'convert c: /fs:ntfs' and all is good.  So I go to extend the volume using the 'diskpart' command and it fails.  Crap.  I try again, it fails again.  Crappity-crap.  I figure I better read the instructions...again. 

This time, I notice the teeny-tiny little sentence that I should have seen the first time: you can not extend the current or boot partitions. 

Ack.

Conservative Punk Magazine

And you thought being a punk was all about anarchy and not aligning yourself with 'the man'.  Think again.

Interest!ALERT: Quality Content

Something else to make you go 'hmmmm'. Jayteesooner has a different source on his blog, but so far no one 'in the know' has confirmed anything. I wonder what folks will say if this turns out to be the real deal.

Yes, Yes--I know the title is pure Hallmark, but it is true.  At least for me anyway. 

When we replaced our old-school entertainment center with a nice, new low-boy console table a few weeks ago (can you say IKEA?) we realized that all the cassettes we had been hiding behind all of the black veneer were not going to have a place in the new order of things.  Which is really just as well, since I haven't listened to most of them in years.  There are some of them I want to keep because they are either very, very good or have a certain amount of sentimental value.  The ones that are just plain good will be duped to minidisc and the rest will find their final reward. 

The coolest thing about sorting them out is that I can look at each one and remember when I got it and what was going on in my life.  Kind of like little music videos on queue, only instead of the band, it's me and my friends.  The collection is quite eclectic and runs the gamut from Peter Murphy's Holy Smoke  to a few choice selections by Cannibal Corpse--and I used to listen to every single one of them. 

There are a few tame selections and even a few spoken word gems, my favorite of which is Henry Rollins' The Boxed Life  which is definitely going on minidisc. 

Right now, I'm looking at Mindfunk's self titled offering which is kind of electric-hippy-blues.  I got that one back in Fresno, CA after seeing them open for one of the bands on the Z-Rock concert series.  Good stuff, Maynard.  Over to my right, is a copy of something by Meshuggah on side A with Xypter on side B.  This little piece of work was given to me by the only other metal head on the payroll while I was working with Jeff up in the ci-tay.  He was sporting one sweet mullett, as I recall.  No, the other guy.  Not Jefe.  Let's get that clear right now.  My brother once said of Meshuggah that they had to use that name because they were so "Shugga-ry sweet, they'd give you cavities".  Guess you had to be there, but it was funny at the time, and he didn't' really mean that in a good way.  Equate sweet with 'candyass' and you'll understand his vibe. 

Speaking of brother number one, I also have in my possession his first band's demo, titled Single Cell.  The band was called Pain, Hate, Agony and hailed from Pauls Valley, Ok.  WEE-HAW!  That is until they had all saved enough money to move to OKC.  Imagine the class sponsor's surprise when PHA, as they were called, were booked to play the Paul's Valley high school Valentine's Day dance!  I heard the student body was every bit as scared as the faculty.  Sadly, I couldn't see that show, which was their first gig, as I was dutifully floating around the Persian Gulf.  If you lived in OKC sometime between '92 and '94, you may have seen them at Rock City or a few other little clubs, ain't that right Kelly?  Probably their biggest gig I was able to see was at this crappy, converted movie theater on 23rd, just east of Western.  They opened for Deicide and Demolition Hammer.  Bad night though, Eric broke his high E string, and it took them almost 10 minutes to find the spare strings, which were buried in their gear.  As if that wasn't enough, Deicide blew the PA system 2 songs into their set.  The whole show was a bit sketchy, as it was put together by two teenagers who borrowed $1000 from their grandmother, made up a fake production company (RGN Productions, which was an acronym for Regurgitated Granola Nuggets) then contacted Deicide's management.  They were almost sued over the deal when the PA blew, because it was not the unit specified in the band's contract.  I guess the fact that they were able to pull it off at all should amaze and astound anyone who knew those dolts.  I can't remember their names, but I remember they were astoundingly, mind-numbingly stoopid.     

Just across from the demo tape is a hot little number lovingly titled BSing with Wayne and Allan: Recorded Live in the Persian Gulf.  Looking at the jacket, I see it was recorded just before 1:00 a.m. on the 19th of September, 1991.  I think some of you have met the Latch, I know Jefe has.  Ask him about it sometime.  Anyway, Allan and I were trapped on the ship one night with the duty-blues,  and after one too many non-alcoholic beverages and a half-pack of smokes, we started re-working our most hated songs on his acoustic.  We came away with "Free Ballin'", an obvious spoof on Tom Petty's "Free Falling" extolling the joys of going commando (with ship's laundry the way it was, that was a common occurrence, I'm sad to report) "Lines" which was a not so thinly veiled reference to a certain cokehead we knew, based on Tesla's cover of "Signs", and a few other ditties, but it is mostly just the two of us generally being very young and very sophomoric.  It was a different time in my life, to say the least. 

Even though the collection is chock-full of some classics by Pungent Stench, Skinny Puppy, Black Flag and Carcass, the one stand-out among the bunch is the copy of Course of Empire that Jefe gave me back when we all lived on 36th street.  That one calls to mind all kinds of craziness like rooftop parties, 3:00 a.m. strolls through the park to the Magic Fountain, the First Annual Thanksgiving after Thanksgiving, Shutterbugs and just general good times.  I had been out of the service for only a short time, so everything was new again: I was living with this great girl, Aimee, and I had, by all accounts, the coolest neighbor ever.  I kind of felt it was how college could have been, if I hadn't gone into the service instead.  Only with more alcohol, a clinically insane roommate and a lot less studying.  Good times, people.  Good times.

Yahoo! News - Woman Who Sold Sex Toy Has Charges Dropped

And you thought Oklahoma was behind the times.

I am just plain puzzled when people accuse politicians of playing...politics.  The whole scenario becomes even more laughable when the public at large gives politicos the 'Skippy Sassoon double-thumbs down' for playing...are you ready for it...election year politics!
 
Are these people even listening to what they're saying? 
 
By the way, someone remind me to tell y'all about Skippy Sassoon sometime.  That'll be a hoot.

Watched Bad Boys II this weekend, and I find myself pondering this once again: for someone who doesn't like the law, Rollins sure does play a lot of law enforcement types.

FOXNews.com - Politics - Protesting the Protesters

One more thing to make you go 'hmmmmm...'

Thinking about all that fun we had at the range today, I was inspred to pen Haiku #2.  I even referenced the season, just for Kelly.
 
Soft summer breeze blows,
As hot lead flies down the range.
I smile, then reload.
 

Well it is a bit early yet, but the man and his wife came up to celebrate this weekend, so who am I to turn them away?  This can mean only one thing: we finally got together and made it to the range.  Wee-ha! 
 
What?  "Who is this Beardking" you say?  The guy who brings us the Freaky Useless Crap, (see permalink) that's who.  I have been a family friend of their clan since way back in the day--infact, if I wasn't at home, I was at their place.  Kelly is the youngest of three brothers who I have been hanging out with for years.  Of course now that they have all moved away from OK the frequency of our escapades and adventures has dropped considerably, but I still number them among my close friends.
 
The whole thing started early this week with a phone call from his wife, who is also good peeps, asking if we would be interested in having a top-secret birthday hoedown for him if they came up to OK.  Of course we were down, but there was the question of what to do with the 4 or so hours between when they arrived and our planned dinner time.  You know what I suggested.   
 
Since I still had the 200 rounds from last weekend that did not go downrange as intended--H & H closes earlier than I remembered--a quick stop at the wm was all that was needed to load up on: another 100 rounds of 9mm, 500 rounds of .22, 80 rounds of .223, and 50 rounds of .45.  (Note to self: find a cheap source for .223 or start buying case lots). 
 
We decided to go to the outdoor range on the Lexington game preservation area since it was a nice day, and I'm glad we did.  It is a bit farther from the 'stead than H & H, but you don't have some Rambo wanna-be range officer breathing down your neck if you don't run the target all the way to the end of the range.  We took almost everything with us: both of my 9mm pistols, his .45 and .22 (which his wife secreted away, since he wasn't supposed to know about the range trip) as well as my Storm carbine and AR-15.  All that hardware in the truck combined with almost 1000 rounds of ammunition would have made for a very tense traffic stop, to say the least, so I made sure to stop at all the red lights and stay at least close to the posted speed limits. 
 
Fortunately for us, there weren't any freaks at the range this time.  No one wanting to shoot any low-pressure gas containers or any of that stuff.  The two guys who were there obviously weren't trained by the military when it comes to range protocall.  There were at least 3 ocassions where one of them would just stroll downrange to set targets without notifying anyone of his intentions, just because he thought it was safe to do so.  In case you are unfamiliar with unsupervised ranges, it is imperative that everyone is on the same page with regards to when it is safe to go downrange.  This is how people get shot.  Generally on this type of outdoor range, all shooters will agree when it is time to go downrange and will all shooters will be notified of this by calling out "cold range" or something to that effect.  These guys were just strolling down range anytime they perceived it to be safe just because the loud noises had stopped.  This is a bad, bad move.  Thinking about it, this is very ironic considering the younger of the two felt compelled to walk all the way back to my truck to tell my pitsol's safety was not engaged.  (It was, of course, unloaded and I had just confirmed that prior to holstering the pistol.)  [safety rant] Always, always know the condition of your weapon.  And even if you do, check it again.  Many people are shot each year by "unloaded" weapons.  Strange how that happens, huh?  Just because someone tells you a weapon is empty does not mean that it is empty.  You need to check the chamber.  If you don't know how, politely ask the owner to do so for you.  If that person gets snotty about you wanting to make sure that the weapon is safe, leave.  That person is going to get someone killed and I don't know about you, but I personally don't want to be around when he or she does. [/safety rant]
 
We finished shooting just about the time it was getting a bit too hot to stay much longer, so we packed up and back to the city we went. 
 
Once back in Norman, we had to shoot across town for a nice barbecue dinner, on Kelly's wife, (make sure to thank her again for me) with the rest of the friends and family,  Mmmmm--barbecue. 
 
So if you are over at Freaky Useless Crap, make sure to wish Kelly a happy 30th.  And no, that doesn't make me feel old, but seeing his 17 year old niece again certainly did! 

Yahoo! News - Doctor Allegedly Cuts Off Patient's Penis

I don't know quite what to say about this one.  I also don 't now whether or not I should thank Rob for bringing it to our attention. 

A while back, you may remember I offered some helpful hints (please refer to point #5) about what not to do with that 4 door grocery-getta that Old Moms gave you when she bought the minivan.  Well, kids they never listen until it's too late, so I give you hard proof that a picture truly is worth one thousand words. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Picture shamelessly lifted from clubrsx.com.  No photog credit listed, but thanks to Jason for sharing this true gem.

I just finished check out Auf Der Maur's website and I must say, it is quite tasty.

I have been hearing the single Followed the Waves on //Alt Nation//22 on the sirius and I decided it was worth a closer look.

So far, I like what I see. Click the VIDEO link from the menu, and you can watch 3 full length videos. Although I wouldn't reccommend trying it on dial-up.

They kind of remind me of A Perfect Circle, but Aimee thought more Blondie. Not very heavy, but still easy on the ears.

In either case, you may recognize Melissa from Hole and more recently, Smashing Pumpkins. Good thing she unhitched her wagon from the plummeting fireball of destruction that is Courtney Love.

You know what sucks about boycotting movie theaters? Not getting to see first release movies.

As you may recall, a while back Aimee and I decided that we were done with the lines, sticky floors, stinky teenagers (trust me, more cologne does not increase your chances of scoring--ask any woman) loud patrons, blown speakers, out of focus projectors and on and on and on.

Now that the home theater is complete, there is no reason to go to the movies. My sound system is better, My screen is sharper, the furniture is waaaay more comfy and the company is perfect. I can even afford the popcorn if I'm so inclined. BUT...

There is always that giddy feeling that comes when you know a movie is coming out. Even more so if it is one you have been waiting years for. To then have to wait up to a year longer for it to come out on DVD is almost unbearable. But a guy has to stick to his guns. Now that the Rings trilogy is done, I can honestly say I can't see myself seeing a movie in a theater for quite some time. As I told Paul at work, I would have to do some serious soul searching before succumbing to the theater urge. What? Serious soul searching over a movie? It isn't the movie per se, but the principle of it. I have made my decision, and to go back on that is not an easy thing. I'll let you in on a little something: I once went to jail over $2.14 because of the principle involved, but that is a different post altogether.

So as you can see, this does make for quite a contradiction for a self-proclaimed movie buff.

Of course this all popped into my head after seeing the ad for Resident Evil: Apocalypse over at Yahoo! Granted, the first one was not exactly what you'd call Oscar material, but there is, as Dusty pointed out earlier, lots of guns. Half the fun of a movie like that, for me anyway, is to try to discern what types of weapons the cast is using, and then determine if they are really real, or just some made up garbage. It can be quite amusing to see some of the things they try to pass of in movies when it comes to firearms. We have all seen the revolver that fires 30 rounds from a 6 round cylinder, or the 40 round flush-fit mags for the semi-auto's, but one of my all-time favorites is in Bad Boys. There's a scene where Will Smith, I think, is laying in a bed and one of the other characters comes in to wake him. Of course, he pulls his Glock out from under his pillow to greet the other character. Then you hear this 'click'. CLICK? Glocks don't go click. They have no external hammer and no manual safety. There is nothing on the weapon to make a click sound. Another easy one to catch is when the hero, armed with a semi-automatic pistol, runs out and the slide locks back and the camera cuts away to the 15 guys he just hit exploding. Then, the camera jump-cuts back to the hero, and the slide has magically returned to the forward position and more of those magic hollywood bullets are flying out of the barrel with enough force to knock down a house. But I'm getting all sideways here.

Once while I was on the phone with one of our field reps, he told me about this cinema where he lives that has a premium seating section that is made up of love seats in the balcony. You have to be over 21 to get in that section, because they served alcohol (and real food) so there were none of those stinky teens, and they weren't so far from the screen that it was like the 27" screen in the bedroom.

Now, if they bring some of that sweetness to OKC or Norman, I just might have to reconsider my stand and pony up the $25 for two premium seats. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Yahoo! News - Smoker Ignites Portable Toilet Explosion

One more reason to give up smoking.

Yahoo! News - Entertainment Photos - Reuters

Where are this guy's gloves?

Yep.

I'm still here. Been catching up on everyone's blogs, checking out some new stuff but just not feeling the blog groove, which usually means I am fresh out of things to complain about. For now.

I have been in a movie mood of late, and have watched two of my favorites. Again. I think I am up to 7 or 8 viewings for Saving Private Ryan and I have honestly lost count for The Fifth Element.

Each movie is entirely different, but they are loosely bound by a common theme, or at least I think so.

Each time I watch Ryan I stop to think what hell our grandfathers, and perhaps even some of our fathers went through. Literally hell on earth. I know that it is a work of fiction, but we've all heard over and over again that the combat scenes, especially those at Normandy, are the most accurate and telling ever made. Imagine that. What we got to see was a film, and they went through the real deal, smelling the salt air, gun powder, diesel fuel and feeling the concussive blasts of mortars and grenades, all the while having to literally kill or be killed. Now that is hard core.

I'm sure this is the reason I watch that movie over and over: it portrays one of those times when people have to step up and do what has to be done regardless of odds or apparent outcome. I don't know, I guess you could call it the irrepressible nature of the human spirit.

Regarding The Fifth Element, for me that one is just plain fun. A little goofy, a wee bit serious, and then there's Zorg. That has to be the absolute best character in the whole movie. Gary Oldman's bad-guy-of-the-future cracks me up every single time I watch it, and I believe he does get better each and every time. That's just the way it is. And how can you not like Tricky's short role as Right Arm? Don't even get me started on Milla Jovovich. Oh yeah, Bruce Willis was in it, I think.

Yahoo! News - Man Jailed for Shooting Off His Testicles

I can't add anything to this other than "Someone, give this man a Darwin!"

Yahoo! News - Republicans dip freedom fries in "W Ketchup", not Heinz

Does your ketchup taste different lately?

From time to time, I get email here at the cliché...and I even read it. Every once in a while, I get one so good just have to share it with you. Usually, those are from Kelly, Chris S. or one of the others who keep me in stitches by forwarding those little bits of life that are just plain funny. But even less frequently are those emails asking the tough questions. Today, I will share one with you:

James Jamme from Palukaville, USA writes:

Wayne,

I love the blog! Thanks for sharing your off-kilter brand of humor and timely quasi-political commentary. You are obviously a man of great integrity and moral character. I do have one question though: being raised on the west coast, I have been surrounded by liberals my whole life and they seem like great people to me. You seem to have some issues with the liberals and I was wondering if you could explain that a bit for me. In the meantime, keep up the good work!

All the best,
Jimmy Jamme

Thank you Jimmy for your kind words and a valid question.

First off I'd like to set the record straight: I do not dislike liberals. Some of my best friends and most respected coworkers are hard-core liberals and yellow dog Democrats. What does get me, is their (generally speaking) train of thought.

You see, Jimmy, it has been my personal experience that liberals want to help. Certainly a noble and worthy effort to commit oneself to. After all, who doesn't need help at some time or of some kind? Heck, Jimmy, there are often times that I could use some help. But when I don't need help, I don't need help. Speaking in generalities again, liberals can't seem to decipher the line between I want help and I don't want help. By golly, they're going to help and you can't stop them. And they're going to help even to the point of making things worse than they were to start with. A good example would be political correctness, which should just burned right out of the history books. Another is hate crimes. Last time I checked, assault was assault. Plain and simple. It is revserse discrimination to add on additional punishment for 'hate' crimes. Say someone smacks me in the back of the head with a lead pipe for general purposes. Now let's say the same assailant smacks a gay man in the back of the head, but this time it is for being gay. Am I somehow less assaulted than the gay man? No, but the perpetrator will get a lesser sentence for smacking me. Am I a second class citizen for not being gay? Not according to our Constitution, where all men are created equal. I'm sure Chuck and Dianne meant well (yeah, right) when they introducted the Hate Crimes Sentencing Act but how about we make all crimes against persons equally punishable just to keep things fair, OK?

There are some other 'issues', but I think you now have a good idea of where I'm coming from. So, Jimmy, for now I'll thank you again for taking the time and remind you to make sure you are registered to vote and exercise that right! You can be sure I will be.

Yahoo! News - Top Stories Photos - Reuters

I am beginning to wonder about these two. Tell me this pic doesn't look like they are about to play a round of tonsil hockey.

Looks like we'll spend at least part of the day shoe shopping! And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

In blog news, Rachel has decided (again) that she is just not up to it. So, if you were diggin' her vibe, you will do so no longer. I'll save you the trouble of going over there by placing her last post here, and I'm taking the permalink down as soon as I finish this post. I guess I can't say I didn't see it coming.

changed my mind, again
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. To all friends and collaborators, supporters and readers, all who come hither seeking impudent rants: the day of this blog has passed and shan't return. I don't have time and my typing fingers literally do not have the strength, and besides, honestly, if I were to blog at this point in America's history, it would almost entirely consist of me screaming about how much I hate stupid people, politicians, Democrats, socialists, Hillary Clinton, Hollywood activists, and all the other various and assorted ass-knobs who fill the news each day. I cannot bear it. Besides, I truly do not have any original insight. I don't, and all who ever thought I did were fooling themselves. I can rant and I might be able to string nice bitchy words together but I can't tell any of you one single thing you either don't know already or that you can't find in better form somewhere else. Read Drudge every day, more than once. Watch the Fox News Channel. Listen to Neal Boortz. Vote Republican, not because Republicans are always right (they are not) but because Republicans are the only chance we have of not being ruled by Democrats, who, in this day in America, are so disturbingly like the Socialists and various other baby Fascists of early-20th-century Europe that it is frankly appalling. Anyone can know these things if one just knows one's history. So that is it from me for now. I truly, truly have nothing else to say on a daily basis, and even if I did, my hands wouldn't allow it. They hate this keyboard with such passion. (My work involves typing and little else. My hands are tired.) So please, take me off your links and lists and rolls, and off your e-mail lists. I no longer have e-mail for the blog, anyway. To all who ever gave me anything, be it a kind word or a few bucks in the tip jar, thank you forever.

Aaaah, it feels good to be on my own space. Actually, it doesn't feel any different, but you may notice the lack of the giant blogger banner across the top of the page. I kept trying to scroll all the way up before I realized that I had.

In unrelated news, my nightly walks have just graduated into jogging. Kind of. Last night while making the rounds, I had to kind of jog around this bit of curb and I just kept jogging. I jogged the rest of the circuit (which is about 26 blocks) but I confess to skipping the last 4 blocks. So it came out to a 20 minute jog instead of a 30 minute walk. I can live with that. Tonight I started out walking, making sure I was really stepping out, but then started jogging again a bit past the halfway point.

Those of you who know me will recall that I have always maintained that jogging or running is what one does to avoid an ass-whoopin. Who knew my outlook would change? Actually, I am quite sure it has a lot to do with taking that stroll down memory lane last week. When I graduated boot, I was a svelte 170lbs. Obviously, that was because we were running 3 or 4 miles every single day as well as push ups and sit ups galore. Once I got to the squadron, I put on about 10, but stayed right around 180-182 for my entire enlistment. Here we are 12 years later and the scale is registering 203. Thank you, desk job and internet, for that additional 20 pounds of pure lard. Ick. That isn't as bad as it seems, though, since it is down about 15 pounds from my all time record. To say "I loves the sweets" would be an understatement roughly on par with referring to NYC as just another city. So I am resigned that I am either going to walk, jog or do Pilates 6 out of 7 nights a week. And for those of you who think that Pilates thing is a bad joke--try it. Seriously.

I have no idea yet what I am going to do with this glorious weekend that is laid out before me like a giant meat buffet, but I know what I will not be doing...answering that damned pager or cell phone!

Who knows, I might just have to do some shooting.

Welcome to the only slightly new and (in reality) not very much improved big cliché. I am finally free of all those blogger server issues, unless I am trying to publish, so feel free to visit anytime.

I promise to do my best to at least post something as often as I feel the need. That is my campaign promise to you, my kind friends.

So, on that note I'm going to go hang a media cabinet for DVDs and VHS tapes. Try as I might, I just can't seem to get rid of those damnable VHS space hogs.

Yahoo! News - Strippers Rupture Dancer's Breast Implant

When you go to BC, leave that snooty attitude at the border. Or else!

The experimental recipe I referenced the other night was a smashing, I thought, success. I was discussing it last night with the Bizcochito Bandito and the night shift super and they asked for it. So, here it is. Or actually, it is on the recipe page, so see the link to the right.

Before you go there, I should let you know that I am not really bound by convention when it comes to cooking for myself and the wife. Generally I just start grabbing ingredients and spices, pots and pans and just get, well, freaky. I look at every recipe as a guideline, not a rule. Really, unless you are making one of those recipes that absolutely has to be accurate (like that overrated French pastry dough that has to be exactly 500gr flour and 1/2lit milk and 6 free-range hen eggs-gathered only on odd days of the month-or whatever the portions are) does it really matter? Well, yes and no. Sure, cookies have to contain a certain amount of this and that or you don't really end up with cookies, but if a recipe calls for something you don't like, leave it out! If there is something missing that you think should be in there, substitute it for something else! If you're making a pastry that you feel should have allspice in it, by all means, get your allspice groove on!

Cooking should be fun. Cooking should be an adventure in your kitchen, or wherever you happen to be making a meal, that ends with something good to eat that can be shared with friends, family or both. The last thing it should be is arduous, menial labor that ends with something you are eating because you have to eat to sustain life. Seriously folks, I learned that even the lamest of ramen noodles can be made into a pretty decent meal by omitting half of that salt-seasoning packet, adding some bias-cut veggies (celery, carrots, brussel sprouts, green onion, etc.) and a touch of sesame oil. Maybe even some pepper flakes, if you are so inclined. I am not kidding, it will make you wonder if your favorite take-out place on the corner is doing the same thing!

The point to all of this is that when you notice I did not list quantities for the spices listed in the casserole recipe, that is for you to decide. If you like paprika more than chile powder, use more. If you really can't figure out how much chile powder is too much, pick up a package of enchilda seasoning at the grocery. But don't tell them I sent you. They'll find me and smack me down for letting you off the hook so easily.

Experiment a little, have some fun. Don't fear your kitchen, love it.

One last thing: get a good set of knives. A good set will last you a lifetime, so don't skimp. Spend every penny you can afford on them and always keep them sharp. A dull knife is a dangerous knife.

Sakes alive, have we got all kinds of things going on this year, and we still have almost 6 months left!

First off, we have Kerry selecting his coffin nai..I mean running mate, John Edwards, which is already cracking me up. They are saying that Edwards will help Kerry win the south. Frankly, Oklahoma isn't really 'the South' but I can't think of one Dem I know who is standing up and golf-clapping about this choice, although Edwards and Clark were in a virtual dead heat in the primaries so Oklahoma's Edwards supporters are out there somewhere. Nader probably won't be as much of a factor this time around, but even so, according to Rasmussen Reports, Bush is leading in the current polls. It is still waaaay to early to make any hard predictions, but I think it is going to be another squeaker for Bush. However, I don't think the key state will be Florida this year. Bush is showing a seven to ten point lead in that state right now depending on the poll.

The next hot button issue for me is, of course, the AW Ban sunsetting. If the vote for extension was to come up right now it would probably pass the senate and then stall in the house. Bushy has already said that he would sign it if the bill made it to his desk, but I am just not seeing him rallying the fence sitting Republicans, as requested by Dianne Feinstein. Rest assured, she is out to get it renewed and if I recall, there are several bills waiting in the wings to be introduced when this one expires.

You know if you listen to these dolts, they would have you believe that on September 14th, 2004 there will be blood flowing in the streets of our great country from the "grievance killers, gang bangers and juveniles" (1) who, it would seem, are just waiting for the 14th so they can run right out and buy a brand new assault weapon and start spraying bullets all willy-nilly. If they weren't so serious about making people believe this rhetoric, I would laugh out loud when I read it.

Then, there are the November elections themselves. I think a lot will be decided in November based on what goes down in September. I know I personally won't be voting for anyone who has a hand in extending the AW Ban. This does pose a serious problem for me, however.

Way back, I pondered whether it was better to vote for the winning team or vote your conscience. The crux being do you vote for whoever matches your convictions best even if that person has absolutely no hope of winning the election? Or do you vote for the lesser of the two evils to avoid, in essence, throwing your vote away? The situation coming up in November has the potential to be just as vexing.

Let's say Feinstein and her goons somehow manage to strongarm enough Republicans in the House to extend the ban. Then Bushy Bushy signs it. Obviously, he loses my vote before the ink is even dry, but I would rather zip up my junk than vote for Kerry because I know what that blueblood has in store for law-abiding second amendment supporters, and it ain't good, friends. What do I do then? I am firmly against the whole "I don't vote because there is no one worth voting for" line of thought. Guess what? Every vote does count and if you don't get out and do it then you have just given the opposite party your vote. Think about this: say you are in a group of 100 voters who are equally divided on an issue. Then you decide not to vote. The majority will now be decided by that one vote, forty-nine to fifty. The opposing side wins not because they had more voters, but simply because you chose not to vote. But I digress.

I guess if this above scenario comes to pass, I am going to the polls to pick whichever independent is on the ballot. Remember, Oklahoma does not count write-in candidates.

Like I say, it's gonna be a fun year. Especially after August.

While checking out the linksover over at Daisy-Girl.net I ran across two more that I found to be of interest. I think Jefe has already linked Carrie Is Not Joking so I guess I am behind the curve on that one, but this Dick Shagwell thing is hilarious. I read almost the entire blog just now, when all I really sat down to do was check the email. It is that funny. Note the permalinks under "bloggers".

I just finished migrating the cliché over to my cox hosted webspace. Hopefully this will alleviate some of the crap that occurs when blogger is having 'server issues' like they did all weekend. THE FINAL SWITCH WILL BE FRIDAY AT MIDNIGHT! Saturday morning at 00:01, I will stop publishing to the blogspot webspace. The only one that will get updated is the cox webspace.

It wasn't as painful as I thought, but you should upate your links to reflect the new address, which is

http://members.cox.net/bigcliche

Almost as catchy, but like I say, this is all about the reliability.

As a side note, I incorrectly reported Daisy-Girl.net as one of Jeff's accomplices. Turns out she is just an Oklahoma blogger like the rest of us and Jeff is doing his part to 'support your local scene'.

Finally, Dusty has taken a sabbatical which may or may not be permanent. I will get the link down sometime tonight.

Looking at the start of that last post, I was reminded of that ancient Japanese art--Haiku. Inspired by the irony of a long weekend that had to be spent at the beck and call of the pager and the cell phone, I came up with this Haiku tribute to the on-call weekend. Enjoy.

The long weekend joy,
stolen by pager and cell.
Next weekend is mine.

Ah, the joys of a long weekend.

Ruined by being on-call.

Oh well, I knew the job was dangerous when I took it. The hardest part was one of my guys called in sick Sunday and Monday, so I had to find two kind souls to cover for him. Props to Chris P. and Justin H. Yep, that is the same Justin who brought us the JayTeeSooner Blog-o-Matic. When he isn't slacking on his posts, that is.

Overall, still a good weekend though. Aimee's folks came up and we had a lovely dinner of grilled chicken pizza, the same one that was featured on POT? back when it was still POTW, with Oklahoma Caviar then Aimee's peach crisp to finish. De-licious.

We didn't do a darn thing for the 4th, though. We just stayed in and watched the fireworks on TV. Believe it or not, I enjoyed that more than actually being there, since there were no drunken knuckleheads running around, no screaming kids or pooping dogs. Dang, we have become quite anti-social of late, havent' we? No big loss though. I'm still in touch with all the people I want to be, either through the blog, email or telephone, so the rest can just get stuffed.

Speaking of the blog, or actually the blogosphere, I have added a new link to the bloggers section. She is apparently a friend of Jeff's. I like the way she writes, so she gets a link--which is actually the big cliché seal of approval, so you should take a stroll over when you have a free minute.

Well that's all the nonsense for now. I just finished making dinner and it has to be cooled by now. It is an experimental recipe, so if it works out, I may put it up on the cliché recipes section. We'll have to see.

Heres a tasty little tidbit from the archives over at AWBanSunset.com (See avatar or permalink). I guess according to Chuck's opinion, I am a mass murderer so consider yourselves warned. HA! Chuck's quotes are in italics, the regular text is commentary by the author.

Lifting the Ban

Transcript of a 1996 PBS Debate on Between Bill McCollum and Charles Schumer on the Repeal of the "Assault Weapons" Ban.

There are some real gems from Schumer here. For example:

No legitimate person in self-defense uses them because they spray so many bullets so quickly, so wildly.

This is interesting. Based on this statement, it really appears that Mr. Schumer believes his ban is for FULLY-automatic weapons – machine guns – not semi-automatics. Either that, or he is abusing the general public's lack of knowledge on the difference between full-auto and semi-auto, attempting to make people think machine guns would be freely available if not for the ban.


...the only people who use them are mass murderers...

So in other words, the millions of law-abiding citizens who own these firearms for recreational shooting, competition, collecting, and home defense are all mass murderers?

And, of course, let's not forget about our nation's police officers. AR-15 style rifles are in wide use throughout many law enforcement agencies. The primary function of a firearm in law enforcement is for defense, not indescriminant mass killing. Why would they have a legitimate use for a weapon that "sprays so many bullets so quickly, so wildly"... a weapon that is "only for mass murderers"?


...these kind of guns can shoot bullets that pierce the armor that police wear, you know, the bullet-proof vests and stuff...

As can just about every rifle in existence, including those that are specifically "protected" in the ban you helped author.


"...the NRA, which is an extremist organization...believe people should be allowed to have bazookas and tanks..."

I've been an on and off member of the NRA for several years now, and have never received anything in the mail from them saying "Protect your right to own a bazooka!", Have you?


Referring to the question of whether or not Colin Ferguson, the person who killed several people on a Long Island commuter train in the early 1990's, used a banned weapon:

Yes. He used a stock. We ban also more than 10 bullet stocks, so you can't shoot a whole lot of bullets.

This is the person at the forefront of determining federal firearm policy in the United States of America? Someone who doesn't even know the difference between a magazine and a stock?


...1 percent of all gun crimes use these assault weapons...

Schumer & Co. are making such a big fuss over a style of firearm that they openly acknowledge is only used in such a tiny percentage of gun crimes? Can you say "grossly negligent misallocation of government resources?"

You know, doing a serial post like Howard Yarch is a lot more difficult than I anticipated. The hardest bit, for me, was to stay motivated to finish a story that I already know the end of. When your watching a movie, for example, (if you haven't already seen it, that is) even if it's a bad movie, most folks will watch it through to the end just because they want to see what happens next, or how it ends.

When I am the one writing, I obviously know how it ends so that aspect of the story is just not there.

The second hardest thing is to remember that this is, for the most part, one-way communication. When you are telling a story, if you leave out a detail, folks will ask you right then and there. With a written story, if I forget a detail, or take it for granted that everyone already knows that detail, then information that may very well be vital to the story could be omitted and I probably won't realize it until someone posts a comment.

So I guess in short, the real point here is the next time you are over at Hook Echoes gawking over one of Jefe's serial posts and something makes you laugh out loud, cry or just think to yourself "I know exactly what he means", stop and take a second to appreciate what he is sharing. Then put up a comment to let him know you appreciate it.

On that, I'll leave you with the link to my all-time favorite written work: Burning Man 17: The Show

After 4-4 day, I was one hundred percent sure that I could handle anything at all they had to throw at me, and I was right.

The remaining days passed, for the most part, uneventfully and I even learned to play their game. It was very simple, once one realized that all one had to do was simply follow the instructions. Here's an example: every one of us had a secondary duty to perform. I was one of 5 guys on the whitehat crew. This meant that each day, we had to hang the company's 'dixie cups' on a clothesline to dry after washing. Being the boot camp that it was, even the distance between the tiny strings we used to tie them to the clothesline was subject to evaluation. The guideline called for there to be 'three fingers distance' between strings. Before a particularly stringent inspection, I asked one of the CCs what would happen if the inspector had larger fingers than I did. He kind of grinned and asked "did you use 3 fingers when you spaced the strings?" "Yes sir", I replied. "Then you've done it according to the book, haven't you?" was his answer. Which meant, basically, as long as I did it the way they specified, I was in the clear.

Boot camp, for all its stresses, tests, inspections and evaluations boiled down to one simple concept: do whatever you are doing in accordance with the published guideline, and all will be well. In fact, that applied to my entire enlistment, and I suspect every other branch of the service as well. This is why the government has a published standard, guideline or instruction for everything--and I mean everything--that has to be done.

It may sound kind of sappy, but to this day I believe that outside of my parents and my wife no one else has ever had as profound an effect on my personal growth as my company commanders: Chief Petty Officer Robison and Machinist Mate, First Class Bell. That whole experience would have a lasting influence on who I would become and who I am now. I wouldn't really call it a defining experience, because I like to think I have continued to grow since then, but at that time it truly forced me to look very hard at where I was and where I wanted to go--and do a lot of growing up in a relatively short amount of time. All in all, not really a bad thing. Once you look at the forest as a whole and overlook some of the trees.

There were a few more 'intense' moments, but nothing I was not able to handle and more importantly, nothing that was not of my own making. That right there was a lesson quite a few members of Company 207 failed to grasp.

With respect to Howard Yarch, we never found him, despite calling for numerous times each day.

You may recall I mentioned that our Recruit Chief Petty Officer and Master at Arms were Marines who had cross-branched into the Navy. Usually when we were marching someplace one of them would be calling cadence. You know, that left-right-left crap that is intended to make sure that everyone is on the same foot. For some mysterious reason that we were never able to figure out, Marines pronounce "Forward March" as "Howard Yarch".

And so a legend was born.

Wouldn't you know it. Just when I get the blog template just the way I want it, I found out that it is not safari friendly.

Josh G. sent over an email this morning illuminating the shortcomings in my kung-fu.

I'll get a template worked out tonight when I get home, so until then, take a stroll over to Josh's site, bask in the multimedia goodness and accept my apologies, all you hardcore mac users.

While enjoying lunch, I was reflecting on my poor performance on the track that day. I decided right then the next (and final) PRT would be a different story. The Freedom Run was referred to as such because if you passed it you would graduate boot camp, barring any unforeseen screw ups. It was on 8-2 day, I think. It was not nearly as traumatic as the 4-4 run and as a result, was not as deeply etched into my memory. I do recall finishing the 2.25 mile run about a minute and some change ahead of time. And without all the embarrassing gurgling noises.

Lunch was over in about 7 minutes, as usual, and when we finished it was off to the gas chamber.

Now they tell you that the purpose of the chamber is to make sure that you know A) the proper way to put on a gas mask and B) make sure you know when you are under a chemical attack. That, as far as I'm concerned, is one hundred percent pure, grade A fertilizer. I will never believe that it was anything other than an excuse for the CCs to have an absolute ball on our account. Since we were so obviously making their lives difficult with our bad marching, and failing to remember that the foc'sle is actually the forward castle of the ship.

When we arrived at the chamber, which was a rather nondescript, square, wood-sided building, we could already smell just a hint of the CS gas that had permeated the wood from years of being saturated with the stuff. They led us to some bleachers and gave us the rundown on the M1 gas mask. How to clean it, test it and put it on so that it would actually protect us from the CS gas until it was our 'turn'.

They continually emphasized the importance of getting a different mask if yours was not sealing properly. Seriously, they must have mentioned that at least a dozen times. It would seem, however, that a dozen was not enough for some guys.

When it was finally time, they led us back around to the other side of the building to pick a mask. There was a tiny shed built on the side of the chamber where all the masks were held and the smell was strong in there. All those masks being stored in that tiny shed with no vents caused the eyes to water as soon as I entered. I picked a mask and checked the seal. It was good and there was no chunks in it, so I kept it. I noticed one of the other guys testing his seal, but he didn't seem quite as confident as I was with mine. I told him that if they had harped on it during the class, there was probably a reason for it and he should get with one of the guys to get a different mask. He kind of shrugged it off, and strapped the pouch around his waist.

The chamber itself was large enough for four ranks of about ten squids at a time. On first glance, there was nothing inside except for lines painted on the floor where we were to stand and an observation booth on a second story so the CCs could look down and laugh. The exit door led to a ramp, which is good, because when it was done no one was going to be able to see and stairs would just lead to a nasty, sticky pile up at the exit. Over in the corner was the barrel. The CS they used was a pellet form that reacted with water. The barrel obviously contained water, and was manned by one of those lucky recruit assistants who was there to welcome us to San Diego.

When the command was given, the RA dumped the contents of a small satchel into the barrel, then covered it with a lid. After three or four nerve wracking minutes of wondering when it would happen, the command was given to remove the lid.

Smoke. It looked like smoke and it was billowing out of that barrel so quickly that the room filled in about 45 seconds. I was very, very relieved to find that my mask was indeed functioning as advertised and I was getting filtered air instead of that stuff that was just starting to make my neck and hands burn. During the 'classroom' portion, they told us that the chemical would settle on anything and still have the desired effect, but if it were to land on sweaty skin, it was like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. They were exactly correct.

Then, they told the first rank, which was to my left (I was in the second rank) to do a left-face. Then it was "hands on masks" and finally, "remove masks"! Everyone does the same thing. They told us we would do it, and they were right. Everyone tries to hold their breath. So for about a minute, the CCs didn't say a word. They wanted to make sure that before they started asking the questions, everyone had exhausted that last deep breath they drew in before removing the masks. That was a very long minute.

Once they were sure that everyone was again breathing, as evidenced by the coughing and distorted grimaces of pain, they would ask a general order. The general orders were just that. General orders for standing guard duty, so they were all stuff like "I will not leave my post until properly relieved, Sir." Just long enough that you would have to take in a breath to spit out the sentence.

It was about this time I noticed that the guy in front of me was having a bad go of it. His neck was beet red, his ears were glowing and his left hand was clawing frantically at the filter on the left side of his mask. I also noticed it was the same guy who shrugged of my suggestion to get another mask! Stoopid.

By that time, my neck was burning pretty intensely, and I was looking forward to getting out of there. The first rank had their fill and were being ushered out by the RAs and looking for the chuck buckets. Now it was my turn.

As I executed the left face, I glanced up to see both our CCs laughing hysterically, slapping their knees and all--and who was at the microphone of the PA? That same huge Samoan CC who made me throw away a pack-and-a-half of smokes! I was about to be gassed by the guy who stole my last pack. What a freakin day.

Then came "hands on masks" and "remove masks". I tried to keep my eyes closed and not breath, but it just didn't work. I was still coughing from the Crud and the run, and when I inhaled to replace all the air I had just coughed out, what I got instead was pure hell. That CS hit my lungs like fire. I have never wanted to leave a place so badly in my life, but they had made it all too clear that anyone who ran before they were dismissed would get to repeat. Twice. We were supposed to be holding the masks above our heads so I tried to turn my head and breath through the fabric of my shirt, which only made matters worse. My shirt was, of course, saturated with CS and all I did was rub it in even more. Dear God, what was taking so long for them to ask their silly question?

By now, the CS was really doing its thing. My mucus membranes were trying their best to shed themselves of this irritant, so they went into high gear. Just breathing was moving the mucus out and causing even more to be generated as I got more and more of the CS into my lungs. It was a vicious cycle. Finally, they asked us our fourth general order. I don't even remember it. I just remember I muttered through it as quickly as I could. I looked up again, but could just make out their shapes through my tearing eyes. They were twitching about, pointing, and I know they were giggling like little school girls. Just when I began to consider bolting, they got us out. We were all coughing and had these nasty mucus stalactites hanging from our faces--our shirts soaked with sweat and mucus. The first rank might have enjoyed the sight, if they weren't still dealing with their own issues.

I was looking hard for a chuck bucket because I knew that this was it. I held it back after the run, but could not do so any longer. The bucket closest to me was surprisingly unoccupied so I made a beeline for it. Just as I got there, another newbie l