The Forgotten

        I served in the Army from 1996 to 2000.  Unless you went to Bosnia, which I did not, actual deployments did not happen.  This was piece time.  I did serve in Korea, but the fact that they are technically still at war is not the same as an actual combat deployment.  I entered and exited the Army in a time of relative peace. 

        Flash forward to the invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 and then the invasion of Iraq in .  Most of the people I served with are still there, my friends, my brothers.  The time of peace that we shared is over, people are dying, and I felt guilty. 

        I would search the news reports daily to make sure that no one that I knew was killed. I wanted to be there.  Not because I was heroic, and not to defend my country, but because I knew that those guys depended upon me once and now the position I once filled was being filled by someone not as well trained. 

        Overlook the fact that the person was probably trained just as well as I was.  Overlook the fact that in the amount of time since I left, the platoon I was in would have shifted and I may not even recognize half of the soldier anymore.  I wasn't being rational.  I still had a sense of duty to the people I had worked with.  Thank God I never saw a name I recognized. 

        This is common in soldiers who separate from the armed service.  It is stressful for them to know that their unit is in harms way and they are not going with them.  We think, "I could be the difference.  Maybe I would see that IED that others would miss."  They may not have wanted to be in the military anymore, but they feel responsible for the lives of their brothers still.

        Parents, wives, husbands, and other family members have it a lot easier.  They only have to worry about their son/daughter or husband/wife.  The separated soldier has their old platoon, the people they went to basic/AIT with, Jones from Charlie company, Miller who got promoted and stationed elsewhere, Smitty, the guy in the other battalion that they played B-ball with, and etc.  I imagine the higher the rank the higher the anxiety.  Sgt. Anderson probably wonders if he trained his soldiers well enough, if he taught them a lesson that would safe their life. 

        The soldiers that are there need our support. The injured need our shoulder to lean on.  The parents of the fallen need our heartfelt sympathy.  But, don't forget the separated soldier.  He doesn't need much, maybe just a clap on the back and "how you doing." but he does not deserve to be pushed aside.  Biological brothers are mentioned in obituaries, fraternal ones seldom get that acknowledgement. 

The Forgotten

I served in the Army from 1996 to 2000. Unless you went to Bosnia, which I did not, actual deployments did not happen. This was piece time. I did serve in Korea, but the fact that they are technically still at war is not the same as an actual combat deployment. I entered and exited the Army in a time of relative peace.

Flash forward to the invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 and then the invasion of Iraq in . Most of the people I served with are still there, my friends, my brothers. The time of peace that we shared is over, people are dying, and I felt guilty.

I would search the news reports daily to make sure that no one that I knew was killed. I wanted to be there. Not because I was heroic, and not to defend my country, but because I knew that those guys depended upon me once and now the position I once filled was being filled by someone not as well trained.

Overlook the fact that the person was probably trained just as well as I was. Overlook the fact that in the amount of time since I left, the platoon I was in would have shifted and I may not even recognize half of the soldier anymore. I wasn't being rational. I still had a sense of duty to the people I had worked with. Thank God I never saw a name I recognized.

This is common in soldiers who separate from the armed service. It is stressful for them to know that their unit is in harms way and they are not going with them. We think, "I could be the difference. Maybe I would see that IED that others would miss." They may not have wanted to be in the military anymore, but they feel responsible for the lives of their brothers still.

Parents, wives, husbands, and other family members have it a lot easier. They only have to worry about their son/daughter or husband/wife. The separated soldier has their old platoon, the people they went to basic/AIT with, Jones from Charlie company, Miller who got promoted and stationed elsewhere, Smitty, the guy in the other battalion that they played B-ball with, and etc. I imagine the higher the rank the higher the anxiety. Sgt. Anderson probably wonders if he trained his soldiers well enough, if he taught them a lesson that would safe their life.

The soldiers that are there need our support. The injured need our shoulder to lean on. The parents of the fallen need our heartfelt sympathy. But, don't forget the separated soldier. He doesn't need much, maybe just a clap on the back and "how you doing." but he does not deserve to be pushed aside. Biological brothers are mentioned in obituaries, fraternal ones seldom get that acknowledgement.

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Submissions wanted

A friend of mine is wanting to edit an anthology.  I am asking for submissions.  If this is successful he will use lulu to print the book.  An contribution that is selected will get to buy the book at cost from lulu as well as get an equal percentage of the profits. 

Submissions need to be in a word document and need to be at least 1 thousand words and no more than 10 thousand.

Submissions will need to be fiction and focus on the setting of what Heaven will be like.  Heaven as defined as the place where Christians that are saved go when they die.  You can email your submissions to alternaterealities@gmail.com

Now, go forth and write.

The Closet-blogisode 7

Shirley immediately lowered herself to the girls level and softly asked her name. "It's ok, I don't want to hurt you," she said even softer. The girl made no move to respond in any way.

"boombaboomboomboom." Someone was coming down the stares. Shirley rose back up and then looked down at the girl. It seemed impossible but the child looked even more scared than she had seconds before. Their eyes connected and Shirley felt the irresistible urge to hide. Again, it was as if her body worked independently of her mind. Her feet backed her into the closet. It was no longer full of the comforting warmth. Instead, it was cold, and coupled with the fear of the child, she was chilled to the bone. She pulled the door to and left about an inch where she could look out.

A man burst into the room. Six foot tall and overweight, he was balding and had bags under his eyes. His shoes were crushed down on the outside of his feet. The sour reek of beer mixed with sweat filled the room as the man nearly did himself.

"Why the hell aren't you sleeping." he yelled at the girl as he picked her up and tossed her on the bed. She hit the bed and was scrambling backwards before she had time to bounce twice. She curled up in the corner so tight she pushed the bed away from the wall a little. The man, Shirley knew this was her dad, walked around and kicked the bed back into place with a little laugh.

The girl was staring right at her. Shirley new that the man, her dad, would notice. Was the girl trying to giver her up? If he treated his child this way, how would he treat her? Sure enough, the father noticed his daughters stare and looked at the closet. Through gritted teeth he asked, "What are you looking at?" He started walking toward the closet.

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QotD: All My Pets

How many pets have you owned in your lifetime? Tell us about them.
Submitted by jennajellopy.vox.com.

Growing up, we always had pets.  I remember a time when my grandparents had nine dogs, and lived in a neighborhood.  Two dogs I remember specifically are Sarge and Trooper.  Yes, my grandfather was career military.  Sarge was a German Shepard and Trooper was a Yorkshire Terrier.  Trooper thought he was as big as Sarge.  Trooper lived to be about 18 years old.

My dad always had a dog or two that ran around on the land where he lived, and he also had a couple of cats.  Scooter was the big one.  He was a huge black and white cat that weighed in at about 16lbs.  The second cat was Peggy Peg Legs.  When she was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her back feet.  this amputated her feet before she was discovered. 

My mom wasn't much of a dog person, but let me have a cat.  My first cat was when I was 7 and I have had one almost ever since.  I had a Siamese cat when I got married, but the cat and my wife did not get along.  They seemed to be in competition for my affection.  My wife said I had to choose between the cat and her and I am still married. 

A few months ago, My daughter and I talked my wife into trying again with cats.  We already had some fish, so it made sense to get a cat that would eat them.  J/K!  We got two Tonkinese cats.  One of them didn't care for us and got outside and we haven't seen her since.  The other one took to us and loves every member of our family, even the my Elmyra like daughter and her protoge the two year old.  We call her Chopstick, but I am sure her name is Meow or mew, or reoh, or hiss, but she answers to Chopstick. 

I have also had lizards, snakes, turtles, and spiders as pets. 

 

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Hugs not shrugs

This video just mad me feel good.  I felt awkward at first and embarrassed for the guy.  Then as the hugs started coming, I just couldn't help but smile.

Inspiring Story! Free Hugs Campaign (music by sick puppies)

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A song about me

 

white and nerdy

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I'm an Addict!

I can't stop thinking about it. Every extra penny I can scrounge goes to buying more. When I am not doing it, I can only think about doing it. It is disrupting my life. I can quit at any time though. I don't have a problem.

I am talking about VS system. The nifty comic book based trading card game. I blogged about it about a month ago, but that was before I really got into it. This game is its own little world with websites dedicated to it and the way that you can play the cards. It has it's own lexicon using words like drops, press, and exhaust. All of which sound like some form of exercise.

The game gives you so many possible strategies to choose from when you play golden age (any card from any set) and/or limits you to work from within an established set of strategies when you do a draft or sealed pack tournament (you work from one set and build your deck from a certain number of packs). The game is incredibly complex, but only if you let it get that way. To win you have to know your cards and how to use them, or you can just be lucky.

This game is a lot of fun. The variables make it different every time you play it.

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V for Vendetta

V for Vendetta has been criticized for being pro terrorism.  It is also said that it attacks the Bush administration.  I would disagree that the movie is pro terrorism, and that if it is attacking the Bush administration, the Bush administration deserves to be attacked. 

In an Orwellian future, Brittan is run by a hypocritical police state.  The bureaucracy can do whatever they want while preaching religion, while the people are ruled by fear of the "fingers."  Dissenters are sent away, never to be seen or heard from again. 

In the midst of this, one man with knowledge that the government is behind the evils that agitated the peoples fears and allowed the existence of a police state makes a stand.  He does so behind the guise of a Guy Falkes mask.  He makes his stand with explosions, fireworks, and music. 

The use of explosions to blow up public buildings is what is considered being a terrorist act.  I will give two reason why it is not.  First:  The building were blown up at night, so no innocent bystanders would be harmed, let alone V warned of the second building a year early.  Second:  V was overthrowing a tyrannical government.  We was a one man militia. 

To prove my second point let me quote the Declaration of Independence.
"We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."

Yes, you read that right.  It is the right of the people to abolish such a government.  Sure the movie is set in England, and I am sure the British hate this document.  The criticism, however, is coming from the USA, where this document is the source of our freedom.  It is not terrorism to want to be free and to take that freedom by force.

The movie was good.  The message was true and honorable.  Good prevailed over evil.  Natalie Portman is hot!  I have never read the comic so I can't compare on that front.

V for Vendetta

V for Vendetta has been criticized for being pro terrorism. It is also said that it attacks the Bush administration. I would disagree that the movie is pro terrorism, and that if it is attacking the Bush administration, the Bush administration deserves to be attacked.
In an Orwellian future, Brittan is run by a hypocritical police state. The bureaucracy can do whatever they want while preaching religion, while the people are ruled by fear of the "fingers." Dissenters are sent away, never to be seen or heard from again.
In the midst of this, one man with knowledge that the government is behind the evils that agitated the peoples fears and allowed the existence of a police state makes a stand. He does so behind the guise of a Guy Falkes mask. He makes his stand with explosions, fireworks, and music.
The use of explosions to blow up public buildings is what is considered being a terrorist act. I will give two reason why it is not. First: The building were blown up at night, so no innocent bystanders would be harmed, let alone V warned of the second building a year early. Second: V was overthrowing a tyrannical government. We was a one man militia.
To prove my second point let me quote the Declaration of Independence. "We hold these Truths to be self-evident , that all Men are created equal , that they are endowed, by their Creator , with certain unalienable Rights , that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness . That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed , that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it , and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."

Yes, you read that right. It is the right of the people to abolish such a government. Sure the movie is set in England, and I am sure the British hate this document. The criticism, however, is coming from the USA, where this document is the source of our freedom. It is not terrorism to want to be free and to take that freedom by force.

The movie was good. The message was true and honorable. Good prevailed over evil. Natalie Portman is hot! I have never read the comic so I can't compare on that front.

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Crisis on Infinite Earths

Crisis on Infinite Earths

Marv Wolfman

In 1985 Detective Comics(DC) set forth to make their titles more reader friendly. To do this, they wanted to get all of their characters into one universe and have a set origin story. To do this, DC had to destroy the other universes and either move or destroy the characters from those universes.

Superman, for example, existed in multiple universes. His history and origin were different in each. This lead itself to confusion amongst a new reader who would pick up a few Superman titles and see the inconsistencies. Crisis, as it is now commonly referred to, solved all of that. DC recreated their universe of superheroes in such a way that the definitive origins had to be told still. Crisis was a giant reset button.

I was eight years old when this came out. By the time I was reading comics the after shocks of crisis had settled down. All the magazines would refer to it as when DC got straightened out. I had never read it. That is until I picked it up at the library a couple of weeks ago collected in trade paper back(TPB) format.

I am pretty unfamiliar with DC continuum. I grew up on marvel stuff and only picked through some DC titles. This TPB was great though. It was reader friendly for people just stepping in. You could see the epicness of the project. It was a compelling story. It was also the beginning of cross title crossovers. Best of all, it was for the fans. Sure it made money, but it was ultimately for the fans.

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My Loving Wife

All weekend long she served me spinach salads without me even having to ask.  She practically fed them to me.  It was so sweet, that I couldn't tell her that I felt I was getting physically sick of them.  She even packed one for my lunch today. 

The poor thing didn't save a bit of it for herself.  She said it was all for me.

My Loving Wife

All weekend long she served me spinach salads without me even having to ask. She practically fed them to me. It was so sweet, that I couldn't tell her that I felt I was getting physically sick of them. She even packed one for my lunch today.

The poor thing didn't save a bit of it for herself. She said it was all for me.

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The closet-Blogisode 6

Warmth enveloped Shirley's body. The light blinded her to what was in her closet as she walked forward. It was almost as if she was under a spell. She expected to wake up at any moment. Then, as quickly as she had lost it, she gained full control of her body.

She found herself in a dark room. She could hear the little girl's voice whimpering for help clearly now. She couldn't see any thing except for spots of color in an otherwise dark and cold room. Shirley blinked a few times to jar her eyes into focus.

Slowly, she was able to make out the room. It was very small. There was just enough room for the bed and dresser. The paint on the walls were peeling and the putty on the ceiling was stained. On the floor at the end of the bed, right next to the closet, was a little girl. She was chained to the bed frame with a very thick chain that looked long enough to give her free roam of the room. The girl was still crying and had failed to notice her.

Shirley felt the need to comfort this obviously neglected and abused child. She started towards the little girl. That is when the girl noticed her. With a squeak and a start the girl pushed herself into the corner where the bed met the wall and curled up into the fetal position. Only her eyes and the patch of knotted brown curly hair were visible from behind her legs. Shirley could read the terror in those eyes.

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Frank Miller Essay

I heard this on the radio and needed to share it today.

Morning Edition, September 11, 2006 · I was just a boy in the 1960s. My adolescence wasn't infused with the civil rights struggle or the sexual revolution or the Vietnam War, but with their aftermath.
My high school teachers were ex-hippies and Vietnam vets. People who protested the war and people who served as soldiers. I was taught more about John Lennon than I was about Thomas Jefferson.
Both of my parents were World War II veterans. FDR-era patriots. And I was exactly the age to rebel against them.
It all fit together rather neatly. I could never stomach the flower-child twaddle of the '60s crowd and I was ready to believe that our flag was just an old piece of cloth and that patriotism was just some quaint relic, best left behind us.
It was all about the ideas. I schooled myself in the writings of Madison and Franklin and Adams and Jefferson. I came to love those noble, indestructible ideas. They were ideas, to my young mind, of rebellion and independence, not of idolatry.
But not that piece of old cloth. To me, that stood for unthinking patriotism. It meant about as much to me as that insipid peace sign that was everywhere I looked: just another symbol of a generation's sentimentality, of its narcissistic worship of its own past glories.
Then came that sunny September morning when airplanes crashed into towers a very few miles from my home and thousands of my neighbors were ruthlessly incinerated -- reduced to ash. Now, I draw and write comic books. One thing my job involves is making up bad guys. Imagining human villainy in all its forms. Now the real thing had shown up. The real thing murdered my neighbors. In my city. In my country. Breathing in that awful, chalky crap that filled up the lungs of every New Yorker, then coughing it right out, not knowing what I was coughing up.
For the first time in my life, I know how it feels to face an existential menace. They want us to die. All of a sudden I realize what my parents were talking about all those years.
Patriotism, I now believe, isn't some sentimental, old conceit. It's self-preservation. I believe patriotism is central to a nation's survival. Ben Franklin said it: If we don't all hang together, we all hang separately. Just like you have to fight to protect your friends and family, and you count on them to watch your own back.
So you've got to do what you can to help your country survive. That's if you think your country is worth a damn. Warts and all.
So I've gotten rather fond of that old piece of cloth. Now, when I look at it, I see something precious. I see something perishable.

The Closet - Blogisode 5

Things were normal for several weeks.  Shirley settled into a routine with Sarge in the house.  Although she believed her imagination had run away with her, she was glad that it lead her to buying the beautiful German Sheppard.  She loved taking him for walks in the evening.  This served the purposes of exercise and advertising that she had a big dog protecting her house. 

About a month after the initial incident, Shirley awoke to that same glow slipping through the cracks of her closet door.  It had woke Sarge as well, and his ears were perked.  Shirley swung her feet over the edge of the bed, forgoing the slippers and their treachery.  As she did, Sarge hopped of the bed and started sniffing his way toward the closet.  He made it as far as where the light reflected off of the floor before backing onto his haunches and growling so low and deep that Shirley almost didn't hear it. 

"What's wrong boy," she said as she approached the dog, eyes never leaving the closet door.  It was then that she felt it.  The floor, where the light was hitting it, was warm.  She thought she could hear whispering coming from the closet.  Shirley climbed down on her knees and turned an ear to the door.  Faintly from behind the door, she could hear a voice pleading, "help me!"  This plea reached into Shirley's heart and took control of her body.  It was almost like an out of body experience.  Shirley could see herself get up off the floor and walk to the door, she could feel the warmth of the wood under her feet when she stepped into the light, and she could hear both the plea for help and Sarge's growl.  Shirley didn't want to open the closet door, but her mind just wasn't getting the message through to her body.  Her hand touched the knob.  Warm, just like the floor.  She turned it quickly with purpose and Sarge's growl was a full bark.  As she opened the illuminated door, a small hand reached out and pulled her through. 

The light went out.  Sarge barked for several more minutes, whimpered, and then laid down on the bed.  The house was quiet.

Tubing

Thanks to Nick for jarring my memory on this one.

Last summer, our Sunday school class had a social at the lake.  We had a class around a fire pit and then went to the marina's restaurant for lunch.  After lunch, we settled in for some boating/swimming.  We had the kids in lifejackets and they were having fun just jumping off the pier into the lake.  After an hour or so, the baby got tired and My then 4 year old wanted to try tubing.

The tube was a huge triangle.  These are more stable than just the round tube and it has a bottom so you don't slip through.  I got in with her and put her between my legs.  Leaving the pier, everything was great. 

As we entered the open water, the boat started picking up speed.  It was fun.  Then the bouncing started.  I had never been tubing before, so I was completely unaware of this phenomenon.  I immediately wrapped my legs around my daughter.  We bounced higher and higher and I wrapped my legs tighter and tighter.  The jubilous laughs soon turned to shrieks of terror.  The people in the boat never looked back. 

What seemed like an eternity later, the people in the boat turned around to see if we wanted to go faster.  The only way for the dragee to communicated with the dragger is hand signs.  The boat, of course, did not slow down for the communication of faster or slower, so I had to let go with one hand to do it.  There I am, a death grip on the handles holding me into the inflated wedge and a death grip on my daughter with my legs.  So while bouncing into the air at high speeds holding my daughter, I had to let go with one hand and give the thumbs down sign. 

In a testament to the strength of the human psyche, my daughter looks back fondly on this day as it being very fun.  She did get to ride the sea doo with me and that wasn't as scary even though we got air there too.

State of the Blog

Sorry about the updates lately.  I was sick last week, and I have been trying to get ahead on my work at work. 

First thing - The Closet is going to be installments.  I can't give a schedule because I don't have one.  I am writing the episodes as I go.  I actually don't really know what it is about yet.  I do hope everyone is liking this little experiment.

Second - With elections coming up, I can see rants in the future. 

Third - I hope to continue doing stupid things to create stories to keep people entertained. 

Fourth -  I hope to do more book reviews.  I am reading, but I am just not writing about what I read. 

If you would like to leave a topic for me to write about, I will try and fulfill any request I get. 

Thank you,

Budd Black