Posted by Lex, on December 1, 2006
I always feel like I’ve been a bit cheated after having a BLT for lunch.
Bread is what holds a sandwich together, it is the indispensable handle of the sandwich. Bacon, lettuce and tomato?
These are garnishes. Something’s missing.
I used to play golf a very great deal, that being one of my chiefest extracurricular passions. I was down to a 6 handicap at a couple of different points, even though I couldn’t reliably play to it. At that point, getting any better at all requires an amazing amount of practice in some fairly boring elements of play. So anyways, what with the premium placed on time, and everything else in my life, I just haven’t found much of a reason to play in the last year or so.
Everything is changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.*
I believe I may have mentioned that I had a flight physical on Wednesday. One of the things that goes along with having a flight physical is a PPD injection in your forearm. I don’t know how ofter the average citizen is required to subject himself to a PPD shot. I suspect not so very often. It’s just a little pinprick as the song goes, but it necessitates you coming back a couple of days later so that the same 19-year old hospital corspman who shoved the thing into your dermis can determine whether or not you actually have tuberculosis.
Curmudgeon alert: I’ve been getting PPD shots longer than most corspmen have been alive. But they cannot take my word that my arm has not erupted into a positive TB diagnosis. I have to come back and have them look at it. Because as a 46-year old captain, you just know that if I discovered that I had TB, I’d try to hide it from everybody. I mean, who’d know?
Apart from ending the threat of the Saddamite regime, the main reason we went into the land between two rivers was to change the middle eastern calculus, to re-order the foundational blocks. To stick a surgical knife into the cancer. Negotiating with Syria and Iran to end the violence in Iraq is like asking the arsonists to come help you with your brush fire. They might even do it, but you’re going to pay a much higher price than you anticipated for a questionable degree of reassurance. If the only way to “make things better” is to bring the mullas and thugs on board to be a part of the solution, then we’ve already lost and it’s time to ask for terms.
By the way, I decline to ask for terms. In case anyone was curious about that.
It has come to the blogger’s attention that certain well-intentioned comments are being sent straight to the spam locker rather than being held in moderation, like they’re supposed to be. He regrets that this failure on the part of the purely automated akismet spam filter is beyond his capability to repair. If any such as feel that they have been blocked inappropriately – the appropriately blocked folks know who they are – then please drop me a line through the contact box.
I’d go through the spam filter with a little more personal attention if it wasn’t for the fact that a) it fills up with maybe 300 comments a day, and 2) most of the ones that don’t involve ringtones or drugs whose purpose I cannot imagine would make you blush just to look at the titles, if they didn’t make you feel like maybe you needed a shower.
So I mostly block delete them. So you don’t have to.
Which is just one measure of the things I do for you.
And speaking of which, a very thankful tip o’ the cap to a certain lady from the deep south, who saw fit to throw a kindess into the tip jar yesterday. It’ll come in right handy during the holiday season, especially if I keep littering the world with portable thumb drives which believe it or not they aren’t giving them away, but thankee kindly anyways.
Have a grand weekend and Beat Army!
09-15-20 – Link gone; no replacement available – Ed.