By lex, on August 23rd, 2009
If you grew up with a martial mindset in the late 70s and early 80s, it was impossible not to be aware of the magazine “Soldier of Fortune.” A quick perusal of the subject matter revealed a fixation on military weapons and tactics at the unit level, and opportunities to be had the world over – there was always trouble brewing somewhere. That was during the Cold War of course, when wars were fought by proxy. If anything, things got more chaotic after the Berlin Wall came down.
By lex, on July 11th, 2009
‘Twas to have been three flights yesterday, which made bestirring ourselves from the manse not merely healthful, but also potentially remunerative. The Biscuit having asked for funds sufficient to support her planned entertainment for the evening, a musical cafe on the premises of UCSD. Certainly, I responded, and you can have the entire contents of my wallet, that sum amounting to $1 in folding cash and credit card receipts too numerous to mention.
Don’t spend it all in one place.
By lex, on June 25th, 2009
There’s a fundamentally personal aspect to the end of a person’s life, one I’ve never spent much time peering into. It seems like some final invasion of privacy, something that celebrities (in particular) long ago traded away. It doesn’t seem like asking too much to give a little back at the very end.
Certainly there is always a deep impact felt upon those closest to them, but for my own part, I’ve never quite understood the imprint that celebrity deaths have upon the cultural zeitgeist. The Hobbit wept bitterly when Lady Diana was killed in a car crash – of course, she cries when the laundry goes out. But as for myself, I’d never met the lady.
We are all born, we travel through our allotted time the best we can and eventually come to the clearing at the end of the path. All of this is banal, the mystery starts where the tale ends.
But it is interesting, from a clinical perspective, to see the sudden upwelling of interest among people who share nothing else in common but the awareness that someone who had once been famous – or even infamous – is with us no longer. If you can take the common pulse by refreshing Twitter – I think you can, at least for the world that’s wired that way – you’ll note that the “trending topic” of #iranelection, which had been white hot for the better part of two weeks, has finally been thrust aside in favor of Farah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
I wonder what the temptation is in this sort of behavior: Some sort of communalism, a shared moment in a world grown too large for that sort of thing? Or is it a way of attaching oneself to fame at its seventh echo?
Back To The Index
By lex, on January 14th, 2009
Last Saturday morning I realized shortly before heading down to the airport that I couldn’t find my wallet. I was running late, and could only do a brief search. As a precaution I locked out my credit card account, and on Sunday I tossed the house looking for the wallet, even going back to the last store at which I remembered having used. The clerk at the store was sympathetic, but no – he hadn’t seen a thing.
By lex, on June 5th, 2008
I was deeply engrossed in work this afternoon when Son Number One surreptitiously penetrated my vital area unobserved. I started when he spoke, and he smiled, asking if he’d frightened me.
I don’t frighten, I replied, with serene equanimity. Although occasionally I might startle.
But that’s not entirely true.
I’d label it perhaps more apprehension than fear, but my very first fifteen minutes in command of an FA-18 squadron was a very uncomfortable time. The outgoing CO had arranged for an air demo after the ceremony, flown by a legacy squadron pilot whom I didn’t know. Guy that was now instructing at the replacement squadron across the street. In one of my airplanes. The plan had been set in ink when he was in charge, but it would be executed under my command and if the whole thing went south it would have been me wearing it around my neck for the next 15 months.
By lex, on January 12th, 2008
It’ll be a light day for posting at these our humble digs today, as your correspondent is scheduled to slip the surly bonds not once but four times, in the carriage of passengers (for hire) while simulating air combat. In preparation for which he had been required and desired to provide a sample to the local drug testing facility earlier in the week. On the off chance that he might gamble a twenty-six year retirement check on the chance to toke on a blunt. After all these years of clean, clear-eyed sobriety.