tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45648955708580400182024-03-08T12:38:09.817-08:00CthuluHey, stuff happens here. TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-91020304130646636142019-03-27T21:36:00.001-07:002019-03-27T21:36:33.021-07:00Explanation of the Barr summary:<br />
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It's an "honest" representation if you're a lawyer and expect the wiggling... But to the average lay person, and media, no it's not an honest interpretation at all. The media is especially doing a bad job, because they have lawyers on hand that should be guiding them, but I guess it's too nuanced and complicated to fit into a news cycle explaining it. I suppose they do know, but are focused on squeezing out what they can during this cycle, then once exhausted and congress moves, then they'll pivot over to that drama.</div>
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But this report, doesn't exonerate Trump. It only seems that way to a layperson who isn't familiar with legalise. This was a crafted job that a lawyer would do to be technically truthful but clearly misleading. It's a common trick you'll see... For instance, if the person being interviewed says something like, "I think Joe is a decent guy. I personally have no problems with him, but he has been known to cause some relationship friction with others, so I can see why someone would want to hurt him". A lawyer will cut out that quote and ask, "Did did you say on Nov 1, that '[I] can see why someone would want to hurt him?"' Lawyers will use this quote on a first pass to try and paint the picture... Then when challenged, they start battling it out in other ways... But that's besides the point. The point is, that's a common tactic.</div>
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For instance, here he partially quoted Mueller. He literally came in half way through the sentence and began the quote. That first half IS absolutely a significant modifier which is why he left it out. If that first half wasn't a significant negative modifier, and just helped Trump, then he would have kept it in. This is a common lawyer practice... Because the snippet is technically true, it's just lost all context.</div>
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“[T]he investigation did not establish that members of the Trump Campaign conspired or coordinated with the Russian government in its election interference activities.”<br />
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The bracket T represents the first half is cut off. There is a modifier there, and it doesn't look good, which is why it's cut out. If the first half was, "Trump is absolutely a great guy which is why the investigation did not establish...." They absolutely would have included that to build their case... But they didn't. It's more likely to be something like, "While our findings include a lot of highly troubling and suspicious circumstantial evidence pointing towards some degree of coordination, the investigation did not establish...."</div>
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Again, Barr is a veteran lawyer... He knows this game, and speaks the language... There are tons of these sort of instances... Here is one last one, and I'll stop because I don't want to keep going on: </div>
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The reports second part addresses "a number of actions by the president, <b>MOST</b> of which have been the subject of reporting..."<br />
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This is in regards to obstruction. The report includes other issues around obstruction which the public doesn't know about. I paraphrased because I can't remember the quote perfectly, but he used the word "MOST". Meaning, we the public only know MOST of the stuff surrounding it, not ALL of the issues surrounding it. So there are more things there, which he wont tell us. He tries to dismiss discussing them by saying, "Eh, the public already knows most of the stuff anyways.. so why bother with the rest"</div>
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But that's not the super important part... The quote goes on to bring up the key sentence to this whole thing... paraphrased: </div>
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"Instead, for each of the relevant actions investigated, the report sets out evidence on <b>both sides</b> of the question, and leaves unresolved what the special counsel views as difficult issues of law and fact concerning whether the president's action and intent can be viewed as obstruction.<br />
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This means that there is evidence listed, that the president committed multiple crimes. Mueller basically didn't make a judgement as to the guilt of the president... And just presented evidence. Mueller isn't making a determination because of the difficult issues of law and fact (can you indict a president -- but I'll ignore this part because we can get stuck in some serious weeds here). And Barr is subjectively deciding what he thinks of the evidence. This is like Pelosi being asked if she thinks Hillary's email scandal constitutes any crimes... In Pelosi's personal opinion, of course not.</div>
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Then finally, he gives his reasoning for this conclusion... But basically he goes onto list THREE different things which constitute obstructive conduct: Again paraphrased: </div>
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Constituted obstructive conduct (like asking a witness to lie or destroy documents), had a nexus to a pending or contemplative proceeding, or was done with criminal intent. <br />
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He then goes on to conclude that he didn't believe Trump did ALL three of these things at once, beyond a reasonable doubt. This, again, is where we get hung up on lawyer game. He's basically saying, if two of three of these things were met, Trump is still fine because one of the things can't be determined without a reasonable doubt (since Trump doesn't send emails or leave paper trails it's nearly impossible to find a smoking gun on him). So in theory, Trump could have ordered someone to destroy some documents, but since there were no immediate criminal inquiries at the time he made that order to destroy evidence, it can't be obstruction. He's basically bundling three different measures, and saying so long as one is not proveable beyond a reasonable doubt, then the whole thing is thrown out.</div>
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It's late, like I said, I can go on forever... But the whole report is littered with things like this.</div>
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If Barr actually thought it was nothing, then he would have gladly and happily been very to the point. He would have said things like, "This report shows conclusively by all measures that the president did not engage in collusion or obstruction, beyond a reasonable doubt... But also we are not sure we can even indict a sitting president to begin with blah blah blah blah". The fact that this thing is loaded with legalise and carefully placed trickery... Shows he's deliberately trying to hide things or misrepresent things.</div>
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It's going to slowly come out regardless of the media's reporting on this. This is a slow game. The Democrats know this, and Trump knows this. It'll get untangled over the course of 6 months. But politically, what's going on right now, is Trump with the help of Barr, are formatting the initial narrative before it all comes out. It gives them a chance to do their victory laps. To claim that they are exonerated. The feed their base and supporters what they need to hear, while chilling the democratic base... This is strategically a great move. Because now they can claim victory, and pressure the democrats away from themselves. To claim it's resolved and settled, and anything beyond this is just a witch hunt that never ends. </div>
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But it's not over... IT's just began. They got the privilege of setting the stage for this upcoming battle, and set the stage heavily in their favor... So even when things start coming out, they'll still have this moment to fall back on.</div>
<br />TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-36618794126524302242018-10-05T17:40:00.001-07:002018-10-05T17:40:26.324-07:00The Perception of TruthBelow is a post I read and saved from reddit.com the other day that too few people are going to read or investigate, I think. Credit will be given at the end to the author, and I'll source a link to it. Political truth TODAY, is not as true as many people choose to believe it is. Blah<br />
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On the Senate floor Wednesday, Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said he had accurately predicted earlier that Democrats would say that the "supplemental background investigation for which my friends had clamored would suddenly become insufficient."</div>
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This is such a consistent move by Republicans, and it is so fucking slimey.</div>
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The Democrats were fighting so that the FBI could do a proper investigation to uncover some facts surrounding the case. Republicans fought it tooth and nail, until Flake forced their hand.</div>
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Now that they're stuck with an FBI investigation they never wanted, the White House and Senate Republicans restrained the investigation. But in order to get ahead of the game, they <span style="font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">preemptively</span> discredited the Democrats justifiable concerns by saying "Oh, you Democrats will just say that the investigation is insufficient" <span style="font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">while they took actions to ensure the investigation would be insufficient</span>.</div>
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They do this shit over, and over, and over again. They do this preemptive partisan bullshit where they poison the political landscape, and attack their political opponents using the very problems they just created.</div>
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"Democrats hate the troops", says the party who sent <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casualties_of_the_Iraq_War" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">thousands of soldiers</a> to die for a pointless, destructive, and illegal war. And who are supporting a draft-dodger that <a href="https://www.politico.com/story/2015/07/trump-attacks-mccain-i-like-people-who-werent-captured-120317" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">mocked POWs</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/31/us/politics/donald-trump-khizr-khan-wife-ghazala.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">attacked Gold Star families</a>.</div>
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"Democrats don't support law enforcement", while they <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-us-canada-42360540/president-trump-renews-attack-on-disgraceful-fbi" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">attack the FBI</a> and <a href="https://www.timesofisrael.com/outgoing-cia-chief-slams-trumps-repugnant-nazi-comparison/" style="color: #0079d3; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">compare the CIA to Nazi Germany</a>.</div>
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"Democrats are unPatriotic", while <a href="https://www.rawstory.com/2018/10/reporter-describes-mitch-mcconnell-kept-door-open-russia-swing-election-trump/" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">McConnell prevents Obama from warning Americans</a> about a foreign attack on the core of American democracy.</div>
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"Republicans are the <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">true Constitutionalists</em>". Except the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/07/25/politics/emoluments-case-donald-trump-washington-dc/index.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Emoluments Clause</a>. And <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/29/opinion/how-the-republicans-sold-your-privacy-to-internet-providers.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">privacy rights</a>. And <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/jeff-sessions-and-the-resurgence-of-civil-asset-forfeiture" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">civil asset forfeiture</a>. And when Trump wants to use stop and frisk (<a href="https://www.citylab.com/equity/2017/08/stop-and-frisk-four-years-after-ruled-unconstitutional/537264/" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">after it has been deemed a violation of Constitutional rights</a>) to <a href="https://www.thedailybeast.com/trump-id-use-stop-and-frisk-to-end-violence-in-black-communities" style="color: #0079d3; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">seize guns without due process</a>.</div>
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"Republicans love freedom." Just not as much as they love taking away your freedom cause you <a href="https://www.vice.com/en_ca/article/zmkab8/the-trump-administration-has-secretly-launched-an-anti-weed-committee" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">smoked a little weed</a>.</div>
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"Republicans are tough on crime." Unless <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pardon_of_Joe_Arpaio" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">a sheriff</a> is convicted of criminal contempt of court for targeting people based on race and <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">bragging</em> about <a href="https://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/news/joe-arpaio-tent-city-a-concentration-camp-6500984" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">putting them in concentration camps</a>. Or a <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/21/us/politics/paul-manafort-trial-verdict.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">campaign manager pleads guilty to conspiracy against the United States</a>. Or a <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/trump-pardon-dinesh-dsouza-violated-campaign-finance-law-1.4685466" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">partisan hack who violated campaign finance laws</a>. Or, for some reason, <a href="https://www.vox.com/2018/8/1/17639860/trump-al-capone-manfort-tweet-mueller" style="color: #0079d3; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Al fucking Capone</a>. Those people are just poor victims!</div>
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But when people call them on it, it just ends up looking like petty partisan bickering that is mirrored on both sides. People who don't really pay attention will see both sides as the same, and that <span style="font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin: 0px;">always</span> provides cover to the worst actors. When Democrats say that Republicans don't have respect for American servicemembers, it looks like Democrats are just stealing Republican talking points.</div>
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Its gross. Republicans always prop themselves up as the Party of Patriotism. Not only does it do harm by being grossly untrue, it poisons the ground for anyone who is <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">actually</em> Patriotic but isn't a raging hypocrite. If someone calls themselves a Patriot on facebook, is it more likely that they have studied and care deeply about the Constitution, or that they have a Confederate flag hanging from the back of their pickup? What reasonable person wants to call themselves a Patriot, when hyper-partisans have effectively created a monopoly on the concept of Patriotism?</div>
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I wish progressives would work to take back the concept of Patriotism. They're the ones that are working to make the country they love a better place.</div>
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Written courtesy of user (/u/TheDville)<br />
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Link to original comment: https://np.reddit.com/r/politics/comments/9l3aue/fbi_lacks_white_house_approval_to_talk_to/e73qhku/<br />
<br />TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-62721039980191752662018-04-25T14:04:00.002-07:002018-04-25T14:04:32.915-07:00Motorcycles, riding, and memories<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">What's so fun about riding a
motorcycle? Really driving one? Maybe it's the thousand cubic centimeters of an
engine between my legs, or the pride of going out for a midnight stroll and
knowing you've put the wrong gloves on before getting all the way down the street.
Continuing to ride around the city on now vacant roads late at night with a
real opportunity to scream past street signs, meanwhile your hands or feet are
getting cold from poor choices. From the excitement to ride, even though you’ve
told yourself a thousand times mid ride how dumb you are.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Driving over the rivers and heading up to a bridge, you have to
speed. Really racing up that hill, to see what's on the other side, is such an
instinctual part of how I ride a motorcycle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">First gear is no fun, I can shift to second at 10mph. Second is no
fun anywhere near 25mph. After that it's almost a blur, all instinct. Third is
good cruising in daylight hours. But hell, fourth gear is it's own love affair.
What's so fun about it? In fourth you really feel the engine, with the gear
ratio you just don't shift past it in five seconds. It's more a ten second love
affair, feeling the engine open up to put you where you're aiming to go. It's
where you love to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">From there to sixth is just another two quick twists of the
throttle and gear shifts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">This thing redlines at 9500 RPM, and I've never taken it past
6000. Jeez, why do they build these machines that can haul ass if speed limits
are so low? Hell, making an effort to not go 20 miles over the speed limit so
the police can't haul you to jail, given being pulled over, is an honest
concern when you're really booking it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">What's so fun? Regretting the pair of pants you wore that fit
perfect when standing but ride a little high straddling the beast, when you
never thought of putting the boots on and come home with cold toes because of
that. Of riding on the road with the power to pass any wayward vehicle
traveling from the right hand lane because they sat for too long in the left
lane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Riding into a patch of dark clouds with a shit eating grin knowing
it was your decision to ride out. Pulling over before the weather drops to
equip the rain slicks riding in your trunk. In a heavy rain, your boots will catch
what gravity pushes south, or not zipping up the jacket enough will lead to a
wet shirt, and then the pair of gloves you love to ride with are never water
proof.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ten miles of bad weather is never fun, but coming through it with
clear air and a wet ass is exhilarating. To have lived, made it out alive
despite the shaky conditions, and riding home almost dry is exhilarating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Riding a motorcycle makes me feel alive. Exposed to the elements,
in full control of this 600 pound machine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">We’ve become so over absorbed in
today’s modern culture, it’s not hard to see a driver texting behind their
wheel or looking to figure out a map of where they’re heading. Cars have nearly
struck me, I was pushed off the road one night and very well could have died,
the traffic light changing colors always give you a slow start due to some distracted
somebody. All this, and loving to ride makes me a better, more attentive drive.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The motorcycle bug hit me pretty
early.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">During a yearlong assignment in Korea, we'd heard word that my dad
had bought himself a bike. Harley Davidson </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><a href="https://imgur.com/a/uFVvtMf" style="font-size: 18px;">883 Sportster </a><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">, and oh was she
gorgeous. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
We were living in New Iberia Louisiana with my granny at the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">After my father's year long assignment to Korea, he had been
stationed to Hickam air force base in Hawaii. Pops left his white, manual
transmission, extended cab Silverado way out in Waldo, Kansas at his father's
house. And my mother had her slate gray Chevy Astro van; we were bringing the
Astro with us to Oahu (military 2 vehicle rule), and dad was bringing his
black, 1998</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> to Hawaii as his daily commuter. When living on the base
in paradise, why would you need anything else?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I don't remember if any other families in our culdesac had a two
wheeled baby outside their house, but for sure my dad did. He'd leave for work
every day at the same time, and that engine warming up outside each week day
morning was like an alarm clock of sorts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Play space and room to rough house was limited in this culdesac,
with commuter and family cars parked outside houses to near military
perfection. We moved there when I was five years young, and having some extra
designated space next to Mom's mountain of a van to play was noted. Playing in
the Green space at the center of the sac, in need of a cool drink, we would be
line through that open space right up to the watering hose to parch thirsts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I remember riding on the back of
his bike over and down to the movie theater one day, we'd left the base and
flew through Honolulu urban expansion across the highways to watch a flick. I
can't tell you what movie we saw that day, but what did happen was funnier and
has had a lasting impression in my life. Okay, so what do eat at the movies?
Popcorn. Some people go with butter, some without. We had gone with that day,
and maybe the exuberance of a child caused the attendant to apply said butter
flavoring with zealous? Who knows, I don't.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Yeah, so movie seen, popcorn consumed, and then another
bat-out-of-hell ride back onto the base on the back of that black 883
Sportster. Whew. Maybe riding on the back of that stirred up my stomach, but
after getting home I'd promptly fell asleep for an upset stomach. And after
that nap, I puked up popcorn, movie butter, and the resident bile that hangs
out in your stomach. It was gross, and can't help but laughing thinking back on
that day riding the rails.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Dad's told me stories of having motorcycles in his youth, either
back home on Kansas dirt roads or freshly into the service and before having a
family came into play. Later on, I think it contributes to why he gave my Honda
Spree away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Rain, sleet, or shine (Hawaii
gets no sleet, it's probably 85/15 shine to rain) he'd ride that sleek, smooth
motorcycle to perform his job and seeing him careen into our culdesac coming
home was always the time to start waving and running home to be a bother.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">From Hawaii we'd moved to barksdale air Force Base in North
Louisiana. I remember my dad having his truck again when we touched down in New
Iberia again. He'd had time to tie up loose ends before his next assignment
started I think. I really don't remember his motorcycles for a little while.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">However, I do remember a trip up to Kansas. The long drawn out
drive in a new van mom had acquired, it might have been the four of us and it
might have just been mom, sister, and me? Maybe they were tag teaming driving
on our way up in different vehicles, but I do remember the drive down those
long, empty, Kansas highway roads toward Waldo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">We had been grilling or something over in Russell at my uncle's
house, and both dad and my grandfather had their motorcycles there? Or maybe
just grandpa, but I do remember wanting to ride back home to Waldo on the back
of a motorcycle with my dad. He might not have had a helmet on, giving it to
me...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
Screaming down those same long, empty roads on two wheels v. four was an
entirely different story. Being exposed to the elements, holding on for dear
life trying to wrap your arms around somebody when your arms aren't long enough
to reach hand to hand. On that ride, I was secure with my hands on his belt,
fidgeting with the belt loops in nervous excitement.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I don't know when my grandfather got the motorcycle bug, but boy
did he have it. After he passed away we inherited his two bikes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I was young when it happened, but there's this memory of riding
and flying down those no longer empty barren roads on the back of my dad's bike
with my grandpa one day. It was a gorgeous, flat weather but sunny day out on
the plains of Kansas. We had driven out to a place the two of them recognized
as rattlesnake canyon. I was cautioned to beware of snakes if a rattle was
heard, but maybe the time of day had them off aside sleeping amongst the crags
and rocks in said canyon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Walking out to peer into this canyon with these two men, my dad
and Papa Tom, was this astound feeling with their steel horses back up on the
side of the road. We had ridden out to view, to look, and probably show me this
astounding crack in the ground where water or some earthquake eons ago had
moved land. I was young then and the memory is a little fuzzy, but on the drive
out I'd ridden behind one man and on the drive back I was behind the other. If
memory serves, we road back to Waldo Kansas with me behind my grandfather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Dad didn't keep that 883 Sportster, he didn't need the sleek
smooth manuverable motorcycle once coming back stateside. He'd upgraded to
something twice as big, a <a href="https://imgur.com/a/Rg0NJbM">Honda 1800 VTX</a> and god damn was that a big bike sitting
under the car port.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">That VTX was probably a bike ridden on the above rattle snake
canyon memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">After my mother passed away and before dad sold the white Chevy he
drove, that son of a bitch had gotten me a gift. Something incredible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Talking about it, on eBay one day he had spied somebody selling a </span><a href="https://imgur.com/a/Kjo71YE" style="font-size: 18px;">Red Honda Spree</a> <span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">somewhere not too far away. I bet he'd paid for it weeks in advance
and then went and picked it up some day he knew my sister would cover me. I was
about twelve when it happened. He'd picked up this bright little red
motorscooter made by Honda. It had a 50cc engine, and went faster going
downhill than up you understand. I'd ride it anywhere within reach, scant of
breaking too many laws.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Down and over a street, where I spent an afternoon helping a
friend peel wall paper from a bathroom in her mother's house. Mrs Melody now
lives in that house, and her excitement of me in the driveway on that scooter
brought her back a few years to when she had something similar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">During summer weekends, I'd go down and over a street in the other
direction where my friend Ricky lived and there would be a gaggle of us hanging
outside late in the night and really living. Maybe it was the night we'd tried
wheelchair jousting, but one night a police officer came and visited us kids
having too much fun after curfew. A 13 year old riding and unlicensed scooter
with an engine smaller than what's in a lawn mower caused him some concern, but
I'd left Suzie parked on the sidewalk and had never ridden it on the street was
what he was told. We went inside and calmed it down, but riding home that night
I remember bumping over the now fixed sidewalk heading home via the quickest
route.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I told my dad these stories some time later, and he knew I was out
riding it against the law on the open roads of our neighborhood. Gratefully
now, I know he sent it up to Kansas to keep me out of trouble on it. I'm tall
now, and was too tall to ride it when it went away but damn was I upset for a
few days over that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Papa Tom passed away from cancer in June of 2011, years after that
scooter had came to his garage. On one of his better days there at the end we'd
gotten him outside on the porch for a haircut. Smiling and happy, he knew I'd
been riding that scooter out on back country roads, and asked if I'd wanted to
take his Suzuki Burgman (<a href="https://imgur.com/a/EN6Gby5">Suzuki Burgman 650</a>) out. He said it with a smile on his face,
something I'll remember forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">His time was drawing near, and I'd taken that little scooter out
on excursions down farm gravel roads. Did it at least three times. On the last
trip, I'd witnessed a calf outside the fence from the rest of the stock and
really thought I could get it back with it's mother. Parking the bike, I'd
failed to find an avenue to put it back in and left defeated and angry.
Careless about my grandfather sitting in bed dying, 18 years young and a bike
that once carried me faster, I'd set toward home recklessly. Coming upon a banking
curve too fast, I'd spun it out and laid it over almost into a ditch. A little
road rash, and a probably six inch gash on the back of my ankle left me
embarrassed and limping. Poor foot protection, huh?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Picking her up, dusting off the dirt, I'd returned home still
limping. Still embarrassed, but too proud to mention the spill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 13.5pt; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">At some point my dad traded in
his VTX for this brown gold Honda Goldwing. God was it beautiful, the Cadillac
of motorcycles, I think. Before heading out and taking a Motorcycle Safety
Foundation riding course a d learning how to ride, he'd given me a run through
of the mechanics of shifting on that motorcycle. I took it halfway down the
street and back, maybe shifted into second gear which is nothing, but was
obsessed. Passionate, excited. I'd ridden then 800 pound bike down the street,
and came home! No drops or spills or anything.<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 13.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 13.5pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">This
has been a mess to write. Ideas running everywhere, it’s a story from my head
to pixels ready for your eyes to gander at. Maybe someday I’ll come back and
make it better, but these words have been biting me in the ass for 4 days and
it’s best to let them breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 13.5pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">You
really can not quantify the joy of riding a motorcycle. Friends have taken the
courses I help teach, they have gained Motorcycle Safety Foundation placards
and the endorsements to drive. They’ve got an idea of the bug that eats me up,
and it’s beautiful. I’ve made a poor effort here, but let’s talk about it some
time? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-56529506469022762432018-01-21T18:22:00.000-08:002018-01-21T18:42:17.193-08:00Why does it cost $32,093 just to give birth in America?<div dir="ltr">
The following words are in response to this article from The Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/jan/16/why-does-it-cost-32093-just-to-give-birth-in-america</div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Yes. Part of the "propaganda" aspect of this problem is threefold:</div>
<div dir="ltr">
1) Everyone thinks they have a medical problem. There is a pill for everything. This is a cultural issue which has been influenced by Pharmaceutical companies pushing misleading advertisements of medications, including advertising and giving benefits to doctors.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/business/2012/jul/03/glaxosmithkline-fined-bribing-doctors-pharmaceuticals">The pharmaceutical group GlaxoSmithKline has been fined 3 billion dollars after admitting to bribing doctors and encouraging the prescription of unsuitable antidepressants to children. </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/17/us/among-experts-scrutiny-of-attention-disorder-diagnoses-in-2-and-3-year-olds.html?_r=3">More than 10,000 American toddlers 2 or 3 years old are being medicated for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder outside established pediatric guidelines.</a> </div>
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/10/business/11drug-web.html">[2007] In Guilty Plea, OxyContin Maker to Pay $600 Million. The company that makes the narcotic painkiller OxyContin and three current and former executives pleaded guilty in federal court to criminal charges that they misled regulators, doctors and patients about the drug’s risk of addiction and its potential to be abused. Company sales officials were allowed to draw their own fake scientific charts which showed a lower addictive potential, which they then distributed to doctors.</a></div>
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<a href="http://fortune.com/2016/12/08/insys-execs-charged-bribing-doctors-fentanyl/">FBI agents arrested former Insys Therapeutics CEO Michael Babich and five other former company executives on Thursday for allegedly bribing doctors to prescribe fentanyl to patients who didn’t need it.</a></div>
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These pharmaceutical company lobbies have opposed and <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2017/investigations/dea-drug-industry-congress/?utm_term=.42d91d09e9ea">lobbied against DEA enforcement in the US against corrupt doctors and pharmaceutical companies.</a></div>
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2) Medicine is typically focused on treating symptoms, not cures. Many doctors don't receive enough nutrition education, so they end up thinking that a pill is going to "fix" the problem. Sometimes exercise and fixing a nutritional deficiency can help, but these things don't make pharmaceutical companies rich. We need to either teach doctors more about nutrition or provide a system in which doctors and dieticians can collaborate on patients in a better way (or both). </div>
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A 1985 landmark report on nutrition in medical schools by the National Academy of Sciences found that on average, future physicians received 21 hours of nutrition instruction over four years. Medical students need at least 25 hours to be adequately prepared to help patients, the report concluded.</div>
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Yet more than two decades later, nutrition education in U.S. medical schools remains inadequate, according to a 2010 study led by Adams and her UNC colleagues and published in the journal Academic Medicine.</div>
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On average, doctors receive 19 hours of total nutrition education in medical school; in 2004 the average was 22.3 hours, according to the study, conducted as part of the Nutrition in Medicine project at UNC. In 2009, 27 percent of the schools met the minimum standard of nutrition training, compared with 38 percent in 2004.</div>
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<a href="http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2013-03-26/health/ct-met-heart-nutrition-20130326_1_mediterranean-style-diet-heart-disease-diet-and-nutrition">http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2013-03-26/health/ct-met-heart-nutrition-20130326_1_mediterranean-style-diet-heart-disease-diet-and-nutrition</a></div>
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Years later, as a newly minted doctor on the wards seeing real patients, I found myself in the same position. I was still getting a lot of questions about food and diet. And I was still hesitating when answering. I wasn’t sure I knew that much more after medical school than I did before.</div>
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One day I mentioned this uncomfortable situation to another young doctor. “Just consult the dietitians if you have a problem,” she said after listening to my confession. “They’ll take care of it.” She paused for a moment, looked suspiciously around the nursing station, then leaned over and whispered, “I know we’re supposed to know about nutrition and diet, but none of us really does.”</div>
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/16/health/16chen.html">http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/16/health/16chen.html</a></div>
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3) Medical science isn't nearly as good as it could be, but these problems aren't highlighted often enough, so you have an entire country that has a misleading perception of medical science. </div>
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Scientific American: <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/trial-sans-error-how-pharma-funded-research-cherry-picks-positive-results/">How Pharma-Funded Research Cherry-Picks Positive Results</a>. </div>
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In 2009, Dr. Marcia Angell of the New England Journal of Medicine wrote: <a href="http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2009/jan/15/drug-companies-doctorsa-story-of-corruption/">“It is simply no longer possible to believe much of the clinical research that is published, or to rely on the judgment of trusted physicians or authoritative medical guidelines. I take no pleasure in this conclusion, which I reached slowly and reluctantly over my two decades as an editor of The New England Journal of Medicine.”</a></div>
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Richard Horton, editor in chief of The Lancet, recently wrote: <a href="http://www.thelancet.com/pdfs/journals/lancet/PIIS0140-6736%2815%2960696-1.pdf">“Much of the scientific literature, perhaps half, may simply be untrue. Afflicted by studies with small sample sizes, tiny effects, invalid exploratory analyses, and flagrant conflicts of interest, together with an obsession for pursuing fashionable trends of dubious importance, science has taken a turn towards darkness. As one participant put it, “poor methods get results”.</a></div>
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"I can't tell you exactly what percentage of the trials are flawed, but I think the problem is far bigger than you imagine, and getting worse...it is so easy to manipulate data, conceal it or fabricate it...there is almost a code of silence not to speak about it." -<a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/spiegel-interview-with-whistleblower-doctor-peter-wilmshurst-a-1052159.html">Whistleblower Dr. Peter Wilmshurst</a></div>
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"The neuroscientific community needs to challenge the current scientific model driven by dysfunctional research practices tacitly encouraged by the <a href="http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2015-09/aof-rnw092515.php">'publish or perish' doctrine, which is precisely leading to the low reliability and the high discrepancy of results."</a></div>
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Estimating the reproducibility of psychological science <a href="http://www.sciencemag.org/content/349/6251/aac4716.abstract">(Ninety-seven percent of original studies had significant results (P < .05). Thirty-six percent of replications had significant results)</a></div>
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TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-90690246205919353132017-08-08T09:29:00.001-07:002017-08-08T09:29:18.960-07:00Is the military "Worship" of the Spartans justified?!<div style="border-radius: 0px !important; color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 0.357143em; margin-top: 0.357143em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">This isn’t meant to sound like a cop-out, but: it’s complicated. Were the Spartans better at warfare than other Greek city-states? In some ways, yes. Were they better for the reasons that a lot of modern people seem to think? Absolutely not. There’s been some really amazing academic work in recent decades, championed by Stephen Hodkinson at the University of Nottingham, that has completely changed the way we see Classical Sparta. Hodkinson refers to the stereotypical image of Sparta as the ‘theme park version’ and has completely debunked the myth that Sparta was ever really like what old scholarship and pop culture says it was like. To get to a comprehensive answer, I’ll have to go through the topic one step at a time – from the actual history of Spartan military prowess, to the distinctive features of their way of war, and finally to the way this has been (mis)understood in recent times.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; border-radius: 0px !important; font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin: 0px;">Sparta’s military reputation</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">In the Archaic period (8th-6th century BC), nothing marks out the Spartans as particularly skilled at warfare. Spartan power gradually increased throughout the period, it’s true, but this seems to have been largely because there were just so <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">many</em> Spartans; with about 8,000 adult male citizens around 500 BC, Sparta was one of the largest political communities of the Greek world. Small wonder then that they were able to subject their neighbours until they effectively controlled the entire Peloponnese. But no source from this period says anything about the Spartans being particularly warlike, having unique military institutions or abilities, or being a daunting opponent in war. In fact, there is an ancient story that the people from Aigiai, a very small state that had just won a victory against its neighbours, arrogantly went to ask the Oracle at Delphi who were the best of all the Greeks, expecting to be told that it was them, the Aigians. The Oracle replied that the best of all were ‘a Thessalian horse, a Spartan woman, and men who drink the water of fine Arethoussa [i.e. from Syracuse]; but there are better still than them -- those who dwell between Tiryns and Arcadia rich in flocks: the linen-cuirassed Argives, spurs of war. But you, Aigians, are neither third nor fourth, nor even twelfth.’ (<em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Souda</em> s.v. ‘you, Megarians’). Apart from the sick burn, the message to take from this is that <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Argos</em> was famous for its warriors, while Sparta produced the best <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">women.</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">We still get some native Spartan writers in this period, and they confirm the sense that Sparta was not really special. The war songs of Tyrtaios speak of bitter conflict with the neighbouring Messenians, but they don’t mention any of the military institutions (unit and officer names, etc.) known from later times. The drinking songs of Alkman, meanwhile, just go on about pretty girls and flowers and bees.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">At the so-called Battle of the Champions, around 550 BC, a picked force of 300 Spartans fought a group of 300 Argives for control over a patch of borderland; the end result, according to Herodotos (1.82), was that 2 of the Argives and only 1 Spartan were left alive. While this may be little more than a legendary tale, it shows that no one assumed the Spartans would be naturally superior in combat.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Then came Thermopylai.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Our main source for the battle of Thermopylai (Herodotos of Halikarnassos) was actually born a few years before the battle, and lived in a time when its story was widely known. This is unfortunate, because that means the legend it spawned already contaminates our earliest source. Herodotos already gushes about how the Spartans are indifferent to death, will never retreat or surrender, and are basically the best warriors in the world. However, he is unable to show in his description of the battle that this was actually the case. Apart from some feigned retreats, the Spartans seem to fight just like everybody else, taking their turns to guard a strong point that countless armies throughout history have successfully defended even when outnumbered. Their advantage was the terrain, and any Greek force could have done just as well as the Spartans in holding the pass. But the Spartan decision to stand their ground, even after the pass had been turned, made them into legends.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">We could talk a lot more about Thermopylai and the senseless sacrifice of Leonidas and his men, but the main thing to note is that the Spartans seem to have taken complete control of the way the battle was remembered. Even though Thebans and Thespians also stayed and fought to the last man, the story was always how the Spartans had done so. Even though the Persians triumphed, and the Greek defeat brought untold suffering down on the Phokians, Boiotians and Athenians, the story was always that the Spartans’ defiance made the battle a moral victory. They had sacrificed themselves for Greece. They had lived up to their harsh laws and died where they stood.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">At Thermopylai, Sparta made its name as a society of warriors. Afterwards, everyone fears them; we’re frequently told of the shaking knees and chattering teeth of those who know they’re going up against Spartans. However, from the sources of the Classical period, it becomes clear that Sparta is feared and respected in warfare <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">only</em> because of Thermopylai. No one can name any other example of Spartans fighting to the death against insurmountable odds. When the Spartans surrendered at the battle of Sphakteria (425 BC), comparisons were immediately drawn with the men of Leonidas, whose reputation the warriors at Sphakteria had failed to live up to. There was apparently no other go-to example of Spartan prowess.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">It seems that at this point the Spartans decided to commit to the name they’d made for themselves. For the entire Classical period, there are no native Spartan writers that we know of; the products of Spartan leisure-class culture dry up. Instead, what we find in other sources, people talking <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">about</em> Sparta, is increasing awe at their well-ordered society, their political stability, and their military skill. This keeps building right the way through the Classical and Hellenistic periods, and the most incredible tales of Spartan ruthlessness and single-minded obsession with warfare were actually written in the days of the Roman Empire – centuries after Sparta was <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/4eoupv/battle_of_leuctra_the_defeat_the_broke_spartas/" style="border-radius: 0px !important; color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">beaten in war</a> by the city-state of Thebes and reduced to the status of second-rate power. It would seem that the Spartans doubled down on their reputation as a specifically <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">military</em> power, and gradually started building up the system of customs and institutions that would convince later observers that they must always have been a force to be reckoned with. This only seems to have happened <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">in response to</em> their reputation – but in hindsight, it must have been hard for Greek and Roman authors to separate cause and effect.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">In other words, the Spartan <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">reputation</em> for military skill and their actual military <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">record</em> appear to be largely unrelated. During their rise to prominence, nobody thought they stood out. In the period of their slow but irrevocable decline, admiration for their methods steadily rose to a fever pitch. This is important; apparently the degree of respect they commanded in ancient times seems to have had little to do with the power they actually had. So it goes, too, in modern times.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9; border-radius: 0px !important; font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin: 0px;">Were the Spartans actually good at war?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">So did the Spartans ever deserve their reputation, or were they just coasting along on the glory of Leonidas and the 300? This is where it gets interesting. As I said, the Spartans indeed seem to have developed some military methods that outstripped those of other city-states – once their reputation had been made at Thermopylai. None of the typical features of Spartan warfare that garnered the admiration of later authors is attested before the time of the Persian Wars. But as time went on, the Spartans began to live up to their name, and made themselves into the kind of military power that amazed and terrified others.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">First, a couple of caveats. It’s important to stress here that we should never overestimate the degree to which Sparta was a ‘militaristic’ society. It was not. Their entire social hierarchy and political system was that of a more or less typical Greek oligarchy, designed to keep power in the hands of the leisured elite, who devoted themselves to the defence and administration of the community (besides the running of their estates, of course). All of their institutions – a slave underclass, elite dining groups, state-sanctioned education for citizen boys – are also attested elsewhere. They were not nearly as geared to war as many modern authors would have you believe. If they were, how could Spartiates have time for dancing, singing, seducing boys, hunting hares, hanging around in the marketplace, playing ball games, and raising horses, as the sources said they did?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">Many modern accounts and popular media will speak in emphatic terms about how Spartans were raised from age 7 to be the world’s finest soldiers. This is absolutely wrong in every respect. Everyday Spartan training, as far as we can tell from several surviving detailed accounts, amounted to nothing more than athletic exercise under the supervision of older citizens. Boys were underfed and harshly treated, encouraged to sneak and steal, and taught to endure all hardship in strict obedience to their superiors – but they were not, at any point, taught to fight. There is zero evidence for Spartan weapon proficiency training. There is also zero evidence that boys, who were not yet of age to be liable for military service, were taught formation drill. There <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">is</em> evidence that they would be taught to read, write, dance, and recite poetry. Even when they grew up, they would not be soldiers; Sparta had no military, and fighting was a civic duty, not a profession. Spartan citizens were landed gentry, living off the labour of their helot underclass, and living the rich man’s life that all Greeks aspired to.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">It follows that the Spartans were not especially strong or skilled fighters. No source ever suggests that they were individually superior to other Greeks. When Thebes was under Spartan occupation, c. 383-378 BC, one of the leaders of the Thebans is said to have encouraged young Theban men to take on the Spartan garrison in the wrestling ring, to gain confidence that Spartans could be beaten in battle. Indeed, we’re told that the Spartans actively <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">banned</em> all kinds of combat sport (and perhaps even weapons training), arguing that battle was about group action and courage much more than about strength or skill. It is absolutely certain that the Spartans were nothing like the gung-ho, USMC boot camp tough guys that you’ll find in the pages of Frank Miller or Steven Pressfield.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">Finally, what special skill the Spartans developed was mostly within one branch of the Greek tactical system: the hoplite phalanx. This was rarely sufficient to win battles and successfully complete campaigns. The Spartans never really developed an effective light infantry, and were repeatedly trashed in ambushes and running battles by lightly-armed enemies; meanwhile, Xenophon tells us that for much of the Classical period, Spartan cavalry was worthless (<em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">Hellenika</em> 6.4.10-11). Their inability to create a more rounded army was a result of the fact that their military methods grew out of their social organisation, rather than the other way around. In Sparta, all citizens were theoretically equal. Therefore, it was ideologically impossible to make some of them into a mounted elite. The only sufficiently prestigious form of fighting that all citizens could share in was the hoplite phalanx – and this stifled tactical development and made the Spartans dependent on horsey allies to make up the shortfall.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">However, there were certainly ways in which the Spartans developed their military methods that other Greeks could only gaze upon with fear and envy. At some point in the half-century after Thermopylai, the Spartans adopted uniform dress for their hoplites (including the famous lambda shields), so that their army would appear on the battlefield as ‘a single mass of bronze and red’ (Xenophon, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">Agesilaos</em> 2.7). Unlike other Greeks, they had specific officers to take care of supply and the sale of spoils; they detached specialist troops for the task of guarding the camp and scouting ahead of the marching column. The relative fitness of their younger warriors meant that they were the only hoplites in the Greek world who could sometimes catch up with light missile troops in pursuit. The strict obedience of the Spartiates, inculcated by their education, made them more reliable in battle than their untrained enemies, and filled their opponents with a lingering fear that these men, like their ancestors at Thermopylai, would never surrender, and fight on to the bitter end.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">By far the most important feature of the Spartan way of war, however, was basic formation drill. It may not seem very noteworthy to us that the Spartans subdivided their armies into platoon-sized units led by their own officers, and that the men were trained to march in step to the sound of flutes; surely this is basic stuff? But none of the other Greeks did it. There is no evidence of any Greek state but Sparta having officers below the level that would command a unit of several hundred men. There is no evidence of any Greek state drilling its troops to march in formation. The Spartans were unique in this; they were unique also in inflicting it on their subject allies, who had to fight with them in the battle line. Even if they only started this kind of training when the army was already on the march (which seems likely, given that it must have involved the non-Spartiates who were part of the Spartan phalanx), it was more than any other Greek army could boast. Their very simple tactical drill – ‘follow the man in front of you’ (Xenophon, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Constitution of the Spartans</em> 11.4-6) gave them a greatly superior degree of control over their hoplites on the battlefield, and made their phalanx a doubly dreadful sight for advancing <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">slowly.</em> Other Greeks had neither the training nor the nerve for this; they charged into battle, running and screaming to overcome their fear.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">Thanks to their training, only the Spartans mastered basic manoeuvres, like wheeling or countermarching a hoplite formation. Only the Spartans could pass orders down the chain of command in the heat of battle, allowing them to carry out manoeuvres with large parts of the line, instead of having to rely on shouting loudly enough that the men around the general could hear them. The Spartans won several major battles because of this tactical superiority. Other Greeks, when confronted with a Spartan army that had changed its facing or countermarched in good order, rarely stood their ground.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">The result was that the Spartans remained practically undefeated in pitched battle for over 150 years, from the Battle of the Fetters at some point in the 6th century BC right down to the battle of Tegyra in 375 BC. With every victory, their reputation was inflated further. This reputation then caused fear among their enemies, which resulted in further victories. The name the Spartans made for themselves at Thermopylai became a self-fulfilling prophecy:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">Hence the Spartans were of an irresistible courage, and when they came to close quarters their very reputation sufficed to terrify their opponents, who also, on their part, thought themselves no match for Spartans with an equal force.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">-- Plutarch, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">Life of Pelopidas</em> 17.6</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a2c4c9;">In this sense, the Spartans didn’t really even <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">need</em> to be good warriors in order to have a reputation for being good warriors. As long as they didn’t lose, their enemies would fill in the blanks with the legend of Thermopylai and other Spartan propaganda, and more victories would follow. When the Thebans broke this cycle with their victories in pitched battle at Tegyra, Leuktra and Second Mantineia, the Greek world largely stopped thinking of the Spartans as particularly fearsome opponents – but by this time there was already enough in the historical record to sustain later authors who idolised Spartan ways and the Spartan state.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6; border-radius: 0px !important; font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin: 0px;">The Spartan mirage</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">Worship of Sparta as a military power has a long and complicated history, which starts right after the battle of Thermopylai. In fact, it is always Thermopylai and a handful of related anecdotes and sayings (‘fight in the shade’, ‘come and get them’) that takes centre stage in this worship. The modern obsession with Sparta is no exception; some in the American gun lobby now put ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (‘come and get them’) bumper stickers on their cars. This fixation on Thermopylai may be a little puzzling, since the battle was a total defeat with terrible consequences for the peoples of Central Greece. The reason, as noted above, is that Sparta’s entire military reputation was <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">always</em> based on Thermopylai, and modern enthusiasts are simply echoing the several-thousand-year-old stories that amount to the most successful propaganda stunt in history.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">In ancient times, this story already picked up countless embellishments, and many of the things we take for granted as ‘known’ about Sparta actually derive from sources of the Roman period whose own source of knowledge is lost. Modern products of pop culture like the movie <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">300</em> present a <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/4ikgfe/how_historically_accurate_is_the_film_300/d2z7xf5/" style="border-radius: 0px !important; color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">bizarre mishmash</a> of evidence from 700 years of ancient literary sources and a further 1800 years of later idealisation. The result is the ‘theme park version’ of Sparta – what one scholar nearly a hundred years ago referred to as ‘the Spartan mirage’. This is a picture of Sparta as the later ancient admirers of Sparta wanted it to be; it is not, as far as we can tell, what Sparta ever really was. It is a source of endless amusement to have students list things they ‘know’ about Sparta and to point out which of those things (usually all of them) are derived from Plutarch, who wrote his large number of works on Sparta in the 2nd century AD. The wonderful thing that scholars have been doing for the last 30 years or so is nothing more revolutionary than simply trying to disentangle early traditions from late ones, and to get a picture of Classical Sparta from the <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">contemporary</em> sources alone.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">For those working outside academia, or in different fields than Spartan studies, it is still difficult to get hold of anything but regurgitations of the Spartan mirage. This drives military thinkers and political theorists and historians alike. And these people are not always interested in corrections to the military part of the story. It’s very important to note that for much of history, Sparta was not admired for its <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">military</em> achievements, but for its <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">political</em> ones – it represented a stable oligarchy that went without coups or civil wars for centuries, while most Greek states made a habit of tearing themselves to shreds on a regular basis. Early Modern European political thinkers saw Sparta as the paragon of responsible government, and Athens as the dire example of what could go wrong if the people were given too much power. This archetypal opposition was originally brought out by Thucydides in his account of the war between these two states, and has been a fixture of international relations theory and political philosophy ever since. The Spartans here are not big tough militarists, but wise landowners steering their state to its best possible future. Athenian democracy has only really replaced it as an ideal of modern political theory in the 20th century (and in no small part because Marxists were beginning to claim Sparta as a proto-communist society). Needless to say, in the Early Modern narrative of political ideals, the Spartan dependency on a large class of enslaved labourers is usually left out.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">In American history, a similar process of redefining political parallels is at work. Initially the US was equated with the land-bound, agricultural, conservative, stable power of Sparta, in contrast with Britain, which was more like the seafaring, mercantile, expansionist, acquisitive Athenians. It was only during the Cold War that the association was reversed, since the global naval democratic superpower America suddenly found itself locked in conflict with a dangerously authoritarian land power, the USSR. American thinkers now often like to see the US as an inheritor of the great Athenian democratic ideal, but this is a much more recent way of thinking than they may be aware.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">The story of Thermopylai was just one part of the idealisation of Sparta – how the stable oligarchy was defended by its committed members. Of course, many militaries have liked to think that they, too, had the stuff that made Leonidas decide to stay in the pass; that they, too, would give their lives for their country. Those who idolise the Spartans for their defeat at Thermopylai are in the company of the Prussian officer class and the Nazis, to name just a few. Some of this idolisation is generic; can you name a more famous defiant last stand? Of course modern militaries would like to mirror themselves on the self-sacrifice and courage of the Spartans at Thermopylai, and of course, given that they have little more than the ‘theme park version’ to go on, they will connect this to all sorts of unrelated and doubtful detail about supposed Spartan institutions and ways.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b4a7d6;">But some of the idolisation is deeply and dubiously political. As I just said, Sparta has been regarded since ancient times as a superior alternative to democracy and mob rule; this often motivated conservative forces to think of themselves as modern Spartans. In more modern times, thanks to the efforts of V.D. Hanson and others to enshrine the Greeks as the ancestors of a “Western way of war”, the stand against the Persians at Thermopylai has also come to be regarded as an example of “Western”, supposedly freedom-loving and enlightened, defiance of “Eastern” tyranny and oppression. In this view, again, the Spartans’ brutal oppression and exploitation of a significant part of their own population as though they were little more than animals is conveniently ignored. Aspects of Spartan life such as endemic pederasty or painstaking adherence to religious ritual and omens are also left out. Where the modern American military identifies itself with symbols and terms derived from the legend of the Spartans at Thermopylai, and all that has come to be attached to it, it may be because it believes the Spartans acted as defenders of the free and rational West – something that may be appropriate or disturbing, depending on your point of view.</span></div>
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<span style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-style: inherit; font-weight: 600; margin: 0px;">Some reading</span></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; border-radius: 0px !important; color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.357143em 0px 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 40px;">
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Nigel Kennell, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Spartans: A New History</em> (2010)</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">S. Hodkinson, ‘Was Classical Sparta a military society?’, in S. Hodkinson & A. Powell (eds.), <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Sparta & War</em>(2006), 111-162</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">S. Hodkinson, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Property and Wealth in Classical Sparta</em> (2000)</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">J. Ducat, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Spartan Education: Youth and Society in the Classical Period</em> (2006)</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">S.M. Rusch, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Sparta at War: Strategy, Tactics and Campaigns, 550-362 BC</em> (2011)</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">E. Rawson, <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">The Spartan Tradition in European Thought</em> (1969)</li>
<li style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">S. Hodkinson & I.M. Morris (eds.), <em style="border-radius: 0px !important; font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Sparta in Modern Thought</em> (2012)</li>
</ul>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">The internet is magical.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">https://np.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/6rvusy/is_the_military_worship_of_the_spartans_really/dl8ns8q/</span></span></div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-61735082714262948122017-05-03T17:28:00.003-07:002017-05-03T17:28:47.343-07:00Blank Pages Lyrics - Track 1 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 1 - Blank Pages
It was never meant to be
A distortion of reality
With the evidence after the fact
The story is always in tact
Faith in the future
Leaping forward
Without looking
Down
Bullets falling on the floor
Perfect order
Drawn into the plan
Cue the press, desensitize
Perfect order
Drawn into the plan
Bound to the script
I can't read ahead
Leave it to the playwright
Blank pages to be read
Ink to the paper
Action before plot
The moral of the story
Later to be taught
Connecting the dots
The picture’s in plain sight
Number to number
The pencil knows what to write
The sequel before it ends
The playbook forced to bend
Telling tale after tale
No chance for it to fail
It was never meant to be
A distortion of reality
With the evidence after the fact
The story is always in tact</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-48534572758423291462017-05-03T17:27:00.004-07:002017-05-03T17:27:46.595-07:00Echo Chamber - Track 2 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep Lyrics<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 2 - Echo Chamber
When all you hear is noise,
The loudest voice is right
Always right
When all you see are walls,
There’s nowhere left to go,
So you are
Drowning out the voice of reason
Amplifying your own
Normalize your own perception
You’ll never be alone
Reflections of yourself
Extended out for miles and miles
With mirrors all around
The outside seems so far
So you are
Drowning out the voice of reason
Amplifying your own
Normalize your own perception
You’ll never be alone
Surrounding yourself with reflections
You bask in your conceit
Patching up every single hole ‘til your
Echo chamber’s complete
[We’re all the heroes of our own stories
There’s no need to see the other side
If you can rationalize it
I didn’t realize it at the time,
but I was building a circle around myself
A construct of my own creation
A construct of sameness,
Of opinions that reflected my own
Reflections and shadows of myself]
These reflective walls do not confine me
Your shadows do not define me
These shards of glass no longer binding
My construct is crumbling to the ground
And the outside is blinding</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-21682936425593069612017-05-03T17:26:00.003-07:002017-05-03T17:29:00.944-07:00The Void Lyrics - Track 3 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<br />
<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">
TRACK 3 - The Void
The last thing I remember
Is getting closed inside
Powerless and helpless and
Petrified
Trapped inside this capsule of a life
I can feel my world shifting, drifting
Beyond my control
Fighting just to breathe
Blinded to the outside
Knocking from the inside
Let me out!
I can only see this world,
But I know there’s more outside
Hidden beneath the surface
I can see it in my mind
Spiraling away
Everything I’ve known, destroyed
Drifting into nothingness,
We are drawn into the void
Floating through the endlessness
Spinning in this weightlessness
Disconnected consciousness
Infinite nothingness
Blinded to reality
Disembodied, I can’t see
As I wake from hypersleep
Drawn into the void
I can only see this world
But I know there’s more outside
Hidden beneath the surface
I can see it in my mind
Spiraling away
Everything I’ve known, destroyed
Drifting into nothingness
We are drawn into the
Endless abyss
Metamorphosis
Floating through nothingness
Weightlessness
This altered consciousness
Endless abyss
Metamorphosis
Floating through nothingness
Weightlessness
This altered consciousness
Colors and shapes surround me
The world is spinning fast
Thrown to the edge,
Trying to sort out my past
I was on track,
But now it is clear
My intent was so sure, invariable
Now I am forced to face the end</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-28622771961203401802017-05-03T17:25:00.002-07:002017-05-03T17:29:09.877-07:0010,001 Lyrics - Track 4 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 4 - 10,001
Have you heard this before?
The same flow, the way it goes
Like a familiar face
In an unfamiliar place
You know you’ve heard it before
We all know the way it goes
And they all know how
You’ll just listen anyway
We’ve all heard it before
The same song a thousand times
This was never meant to be
Wish I could burn it to the ground
Can you hear it?
Can you see it through the sounds?
Don't you worry someday,
They may figure you out?
Have you heard this before?
We all know the way it comes
Familiarity
Is what you’re wanting it to be
You know you’ve heard it before
We all know the way it goes
It sounds exactly the same, but
You’ll just listen anyway
We’ve all heard it before
The same song ten thousand times
This was never meant to be
Wish we could burn it to the ground
Can you hear it?
Can you see it through the sounds?
Don’t you worry someday,
They may figure you out?
Formulaic imitation
Void of any innovation
Not a single deviation
All of this for your fixation
Formulaic imitation
Void of any innovation
Not a single deviation
All of this for your fixation
Closing your eyes
But somehow
You always find the way
Finding yourself
Miles and miles away
There must be a way
To bring us back home</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-2863985185130111132017-05-03T17:24:00.000-07:002017-05-03T17:29:28.590-07:00Sisyphus Lyrics - Track 5 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 5 - Sisyphus
It’s so clear, it’s so apparent
So why don’t you understand?
In every single case
You maintain the upper hand
Living in our separate worlds
We’re selectively connected
Like light through a glass
My words are misdirected
My input is always refracted,
Rejected or misunderstood
Dismissing other perspectives
As if it would do any good
We’re speaking the same language
But sometimes I’m not so sure
The glass is becoming darker
Your intentions are growing more obscure
Are we from such different places,
That you cannot see my side?
Would it be so difficult
If only you had tried?
My words hitting a wall
The paint never sticks
But the more I try
The messier it gets
You only give me part of the picture
The rest is left to chance
Withholding bits and pieces
You’re setting the stage in advance
Tallying the wins and losses
Always keeping score
Forever pushing forward
Always wanting more
And so you’ve traded everything
For your idealistic goal
I know you thought that you were climbing,
But you only dug a hole
There is no pinnacle, no summit
No destination to find
It’s not just luck, not happenstance;
There’s a pattern that you’ve left behind...
Endlessly pushing to the peak
Only to enjoy it alone
Your journey in vain
A pointless mission
Endlessly pushing to the peak
Just to tumble right back down
A life made meaningless
Through bare repetition
Aimlessly pushing to the peak
When will this self-righteous quest
Exhaust your need for
Narcissistic ambition?
Forever condemned to endlessly seek
Yearning for goals, that you’ll never reach.
Striving so hard for some imaginary goal that you see
It’s clear that nothing’s meant to change, and there is nothing to grieve
This endless struggle plagues me, time to cut my losses and leave
No longer burdened with this restlessness and compromising
Faces of time are shattered on the floor, the smoke is clearing</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-59122635578220976872017-05-03T17:22:00.003-07:002017-05-03T17:29:44.330-07:00Simulate_Captivate Lyrics - Track 6 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 6 - Simulate_Captivate
Do you really know
What you can feel?
Is it real?
Do you know?
Can you take in
What surrounds you?
Is it there?
Have you noticed
The system all around you?
Do you really know
What you can hear?
Is it real?
Do you know?
Can you see
What surrounds you?
Is it there?
Have you noticed
The glitches all around you?
I can see changes in
Everything I’ve ever known
Breaking down
Virus, glitches
Infiltrate your system
Programmed logic
Coded in the system
In what my brain could never see
The hollowness in the fabric
Of my reality
I am the system
</span><br />
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TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-9082440365052629712017-05-03T17:20:00.001-07:002017-05-03T17:30:01.321-07:00Awakening Lyrics - Track 7 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 7 - Awakening
My eyes are opened to the same room
The same place, the same time
My surroundings without any variation
Everything is by design
My goals are set, my path is clear
This constant loop, my destiny
And as I carry on my daily undertaking
I hear a whisper from within
Don’t you see what’s happening?
Coming to the realization
That there’s something more
The story we’ve been given
Isn’t our own
Navigating my subconsciousness
To find out where the puzzle ends
Coming to the center of my soul,
The core of myself
My eyes are open to the nature of this world
It wasn’t always what it seemed
And as I try to organize my own intentions
I’ve finally woken from this dream
This foreign voice that seems to lead me
Strangely pulling from within
And as I try to break out from my programmed nature
I realize the voice is mine
I finally found my destiny
I’ve come to the realization
That there’s something more
The story we’ve been given
Isn’t our own
Navigating my subconsciousness
I found out where the puzzle ends
I have reached the center of my soul,
The core of myself
</span><br />
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TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-59389119088133821612017-05-03T17:19:00.002-07:002017-05-03T17:30:49.234-07:00Perfect Silence Lyrics - Track 9 Tetrafusion - Dreaming of Sleep<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">TRACK 9 - Perfect Silence
And so I, I was waiting for the end
The conclusion that never came
At first I was relieved
Drifting peacefully, sleeplessly
Over time, I came to comprehend
This unbroken, unceasing journey to nowhere,
Forever dreaming of sleep
Longing for brevity and reveries,
For days without a care
The infinite is all that I have,
And nothing can compare
Limitless memories
Far too much for me to contain
In this perfect stillness
Only thoughts remain
Perpetually alone
This unbearable solitude
In this perfect silence
Impossible magnitude
When will this life fade away
Carried to some tranquil place where
Distant memories all fade away
Laid to rest so I can finally sleep
There is nothing, nothing more for me
I’m left waiting for what I hope will come
And so I, I continue my unbroken, unceasing
Journey to the void</span>TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-60496535807741905022017-05-03T13:33:00.000-07:002017-05-03T13:34:01.576-07:00Who is the unknown John Doe from the HMSS Sydney?The internet is a magical place.<br />
<br />
Australia fought with the allies in World War II. At one point during the war, our navy was the fourth largest in the world with over 300 ships. The HMAS Sydney, where our story centres, began as an escort and patrol ship before being sent to fight in the Mediterranean Sea. She participated in multiple battles and sank two Italian ships before being called back to Australia (for various reasons, including a well-deserved rest for the crew).<br />
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On the 19th of November 1941 with a crew of 645, she was off the coast of Western Australia and heading south when she came across a ship with no visible identification. She sailed closer and the crews exchanged flag signals, with the foreign vessel giving the callsign of a Dutch merchant ship. After around 30 minutes, the Dutch ship began transmitting a distress signal. The HMAS Sydney continued to follow the ship for another half hour before it unexpectedly opened fire. The ship was actually the Kormoran, a German warship carrying around 400 men.<br />
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The battle lasted only thirty minutes. The HMAS Sydney began to drift south, appearing to be uncontrolled, before sinking six hours later. Her bow was torn off and she submerged almost vertically, similarly to the Titanic. All 645 men on board were killed. The Germans lost 82 men, with the other 317 captured and returned to Germany after the war (except for one who died of lung cancer).<br />
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In 1942, almost three months after the sinking of the HMAS Sydney, a body was found floating in a liferaft on the Indian Ocean. Exposure to the elements had caused severe decomposition of both the body and the liferaft which made identification difficult. The young, Caucasian male was wearing a boiler suit with no dog tags or other identifying information on him. The liferaft had shrapnel lodged in it, was stamped with "Made In Australia" and had barnacles growing on it which indicated it had been at sea for some time.<br />
<br />
The body was buried on a nearby island, where it remained until 2006 when it was exhumed, returned to Australia and buried with full military honours. An autopsy was performed which found the cause of death to be trauma to the head from shrapnel. He was found to be right-handed, aged between 22-31, had size 11 feet, was between 168 - 188cm tall, and isotope analysis showed that he likely grew up in a coastal area in the eastern states.<br />
<br />
Fascinatingly, his ankle joints revealed that he squatted a lot. This hints that he could be from a rural area, have spent time with a culture that prefers squatting over sitting, or have played a sport that required a position similar to squatting. In 2009 a DNA profile was extracted suggesting he had red hair and blue eyes.<br />
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As of 2014, his identity has been narrowed down to fifty men. His is the only body from the HMAS Sydney that has ever been found. I can't find a list of the names of the fifty men, but this was only sixty years ago. Surely there are people out there who knew this man, knew he was on the HMAS Sydney, and knew that he didn't come home. His DNA is available to be tested against, we just need the right person to know about it. Please note that, although unlikely, it is possible that his body is completely unrelated to the HMAS Sydney so you should still consider if you have an ancestor who went missing around that time that wasn't in the Navy. If you think you can help, email:<br />
<br />
greg.swinden@defence.gov.au.<br />
<br />TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-66525063103935714912017-04-01T09:47:00.000-07:002017-04-01T09:47:17.624-07:00farming in america, a 4 page rant<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Farming in America</div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">American’s today are so disconnected from their food supply. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Back during the world wars, specifically 2, when food gasoline and
rubber bands were rationed for the war effort, people would grow themselves
gardens to supplement what was scare to find. Freedom gardening; the act of
planting a seed, giving it water, a little love and keeping pests from it
resulted in rows of beans, fat juicy tomatoes, even broccoli and carrots going
on into the winter seasons. Food, you eat it, I eat it. Fuel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I might know a half dozen people who care about their bodies enough to
grow any produce. Why is that? I eat a lot, love spending less money for
something that grows all by itself, and really enjoy the taste of a tomato
fresh from the vine. It’s almost a thing of ecstasy, just tasting what grew
from the soil there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Now back in the 40’s, so far as I can find, at least 18% of the American
population farmed. Commercial agriculture, feeding the town up the road for
income. I’m not sure if it’s the culmination of successes in chemical nutrient
manufacturing, advancing technology surpassing human labor or the swelling of
cities and industries that aren’t reliant on people growing their own food
anymore, but that scares me in a small way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">There are under 5 million farmers today, marked by the census, in
America. There’s 318.9 million people living here today (preach 318), but for a
country so big why are there so many people disconnected from what they eat?
That’s shocking as somebody who loves to dig, plant trees, and water the grass.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Yeah, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">My grandmother grew up in the depression era down in south Louisiana,
she grew up on a farm/plantation, but she’s from the generation with the necessity to grow and raise what you could; without growing food, trapping, or hunting you starved.
Before there was a mcdonalds on every third street. Way before the line of
production changed, and stopping at the grocery store to buy apple’s that came
off the tree 12 months ago. I’m concerned for the diet of your average American,
we have a rising obesity rate and let’s not even talk about the incoming wave
of type 2 diabetics flooding the healthcare system. When CORN is so cheap that
farmer’s gete paid not to grow it to prevent a collapse of market price, why?
When everything’s made of it, and when the right doctor can test your muscle
cells and visually see the corn you’ve eaten so much of for so long, there’s a
nutrition problem. I’m a little overweight and would love to lose 20 pounds,
but hot fucking damn when Oklahoma city sets a goal to collectively lose 1
million pounds and does it, why is that a problem? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">(OKC losing weight, great TED talk. Watch it. <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/mick_cornett_how_an_obese_town_lost_a_million_pounds">https://www.ted.com/talks/mick_cornett_how_an_obese_town_lost_a_million_pounds</a>
)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Why worry about what you eat when you can visit any store down the
road to order fried chicken, a burger, or any walmart to buy already frozen
food or a bag of cheetos? Do you like Subway? Maybe snag a swiss and turkey
with mustard foot long on Italian bread for lunch? Were you aware the
regulation for Subway’s meat says it only needs to be at most 48% meat? (Link
to a story: <a href="https://np.reddit.com/r/worldnews/comments/603mge/subway_has_announced_its_intention_to_sue_the/df3j9ph/?sh=d0ad5a00&st=1Z141Z3">https://np.reddit.com/r/worldnews/comments/603mge/subway_has_announced_its_intention_to_sue_the/df3j9ph/?sh=d0ad5a00&st=1Z141Z3</a>
)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I’ve seen enough videos of inhumane acts in a slaughter houses and
commercial food production to ward me off of wanting to buy meat in the store. That
reddit comment shares concern for meat bought from Walmart, and my best friend
is earning a degree in cow agriculture from LSU, but damn (call Rikky on an
afternoon while he’s werkin in the lab and just listen to that white trash
encyclopedia talk about what ruins commercial food animals). The antibiotics
fed to those poor, decrepid animals in the feed lots so they don’t get sick
from standing in their shit all day abhors me. Not only that, but we could talk
about the egg production of laying hens and talk. Those eggs, before the ever
hit the store are more than a month old. Trying to boil some, they float,
because enough time has passed for them to lose water through that porous
shell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"> Crack a white shelled egg in the same bowl as something with a brown
shell, and it’s not hard to see a difference in the yellow yolk of one and the
gold of another. But hey, agriculture, and with a single farmer being
responsible for feeding 65 ignorant people I see an issue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"> Those laying hens are
stacked on top of each other, and their sole purpose to pop out an egg every
day. Just living hurdled like slaves on a ship. Commercial meat production? Chickens
are similar, cows spend maybe 18 months in a pasture before being sold to a
kill lot that gives them a regimen of corn all the time to throw weight on
them. The same with pigs, and I won’t even talk about how much smarter they are
than man’s best friend. That corn you can find in your cells? The same indicators
appear with people who eat steaks and burgers. Six months of corn only is atrocious.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Me, to go out and eat a meal it’s got to be a special occasion or your
treat. Having worked in a couple kitchens, no I do not trust most sit down-and-eat
restaurants. Just the way it is, I enjoy cooking enough that having no plan of
what to make always turns into an adventure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I’ve had to teach friends how to shop for food in grocery stores. Not
knowing what you want in apples, peppers, or any other vegetable. That’s no
problem at all, I’m probably the best amateur chef you don’t know too much
about, but hell let’s make something weird and make a mess doing it. I dislike
the coddling so many people experienced growing up. I know some guys who were
it not for my outgoing personality wouldn’t have a tenth of the stories we’ve
grown to experience. But if you lived a young life tied to a computer not
seeing daylight, I pity you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Tying back to food, there are too few people who buy food without
knowing what’s in it. Who never touch the stove, an oven, and who’s sources of
hot food comes from the microwave. Hell let’s talk about how red 40, the food
dye, plays inside the endocrine system and how much of it takes for the
chemical to be noticeable in your health. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Final knot to tie in~~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">I’m helping a friends father get a commercial rabbit farm up and
running. Mr P’s an old cantankerous son of a bitch, but hell spending eight
hours flipping his soil is so satisfying. (Ask me about rabbits someday)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">This morning, April the first, I plopped on over to his back porch to
drink coffee and talk about aliens, politics, and get an idea of what needed to
be done that day. This morning we slaughtered nine beautiful bucks. Catching
them by the ears, stringing them up on a board to knock them out and slit their
throats and drain the blood. De-skinning a rabbit takes two steady people to
pull from each end. (Dead rabbits are a lot like dead rabbits. They make a
serious effort to piss on you.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">Grabbing the first bunny of the day I felt a little queezy, just not
wanting to pull something from a cage to kill it, but by the time I was
grabbing #3 and #4, those negative feelings vanished. It was a job to do,
everybody has their spot during kill time, but being able to see your work at
the end of it feels so good. I might never be a long term farmer like Paul, but
fuck at this age it feels good to slaughter and eat something that you raised. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni;">WANNA EAT A RABBIT? HOLLA ATCHA BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIII<o:p></o:p></span></div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-18883089389558700812017-03-19T14:57:00.001-07:002017-03-19T14:57:13.147-07:00Green energy is not enough to fix the earth - Climate Change<div style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
Google used to have a team called RE<C focused on investing tens of millions of dollars in to breakthrough clean power technologies (on top of the over $1 billion they'd spent directly on wind and solar). They gave that up over 5 years ago, not because they didn't think it would work, but because they figured out that even if they hit their ambitious goals <a href="https://www.greentechmedia.com/articles/read/google-engineers-explain-why-they-stopped-rd-in-renewable-energy" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">it wouldn't be enough</a>.</div>
<div style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 7px; padding: 0px;">
The thing with greenhouse gasses is that they don't make the planet warmer when they get in the atmosphere, they change the atmosphere so that the planet will get warmer and warmer until it hits a new equilibrium. We're over 400ppm CO2 in the atmosphere and we're <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">nowhere near equilibrium</em>. We could switch 100% to renewables today and the planet would still see significant warming for the rest of our lives. Even if we halted every single source of manmade emissions not only would the planet still warm significantly, but more carbon would end up in the atmosphere as things like <a href="https://youtu.be/kx1Jxk6kjbQ" style="color: #0079d3; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration: none;">permafrost melting and releasing methane</a> or <a href="https://phys.org/news/2017-03-soils-carbon-climate.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-decoration: none;">warming soils release carbon</a>.</div>
<div style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 7px; padding: 0px;">
The simple fact is that nothing we do to reduce emissions now, no matter how fast or drastic is a solution. It'll make the eventually problem <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">less bad</em>, but if all we do is transition to renewables we're going to face catastrophic climate change. There's only two things that count as an actual solution, as something we need to do to avoid significant warming:</div>
<ul style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.357143em 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 40px;">
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Geoengineering - spraying stuff in the air or making the ocean more reflective or something. This stuff is very much a last ditch emergency option. Since we have zero experience doing it, and it would need to be done on a huge scale with unknown side effects.</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Carbon sequestration. We need to take the carbon we've put in the atmosphere and get it back in the ground. People have been talking about this somewhat seriously for 30-40 years, and we're really not any closer to a breakthrough now than we were then. We could hope that in the next 30-40 years we might make a breakthrough, but if we don't it could be too late.</li>
</ul>
<div style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Right now there's really only one solution that's a real option, fortunately it's a "technology" we have a lot of experience with, and if we get started soon it's well within a realistic possibility. We should be reforesting huge amounts of the land that we've cleared over the last 200 years.</div>
<div style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Unfortunately there's a few downsides to this:</div>
<ul style="background-color: #eef3ff; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.357143em 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 40px;">
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">It would require people to actually change their life style a little bit. Not a lot, but a little each year to make room for the new forests. Right now it seems like the most people are willing to buy some LED lights and maybe a Prius.</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div style="font-size: 1em !important; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
We're actively doing the opposite. We're cutting down significant tracts of forest every years, and then we're doing things like raising cattle on that land, who will belch out methane for their entire lives.</div>
</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div style="font-size: 1em !important; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
From 2000 to 2013 we <a href="http://advances.sciencemag.org/content/3/1/e1600821.full" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">cut down 7% of the world's forests</a> Mostly to make room for more livestock.</div>
</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div style="font-size: 1em !important; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.unece.org/forests/outlook/carbonsinks.html" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Carbon in all the world's forests is about 638 GtC</a></div>
</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div style="font-size: 1em !important; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
All manmade <a href="http://www.globalcarbonproject.org/carbonbudget/16/highlights.htm" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">carbon emissions add up to about 10 GtC per year</a></div>
</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div style="font-size: 1em !important; line-height: 1.42857em; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-top: 3px; padding: 0px;">
If instead of spending time and energy to cut down forests, we'd been re-planting forests and had added 7% more over the last 13 years we would've eventually sequestered the equivalent of <em style="font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px;">50% of human GHG emissions</em> from that period.</div>
</li>
</ul>
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If everyone on earth suddenly decided that climate change was important and we started large scale reforestation tomorrow, it's possible that by 2100 we could be back down below current carbon levels in the atmosphere. Essentially, at the extreme end we'd be able to sequester 100% of man made emissions. <a href="http://www.ghgonline.org/images/ipcc5d.gif" style="color: #0079d3; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Here's the possible range of climate change scenarios we're looking at</a>. None of those include any significant carbon sequestration projects. Even if we didn't hit that goal of sequestering 100% of emissions, any significant amount would put us towards the bottom, or even below those predictions. Sequestering 50% of emissions is a totally reasonable and possible goal and it would put us in a much better place than even the most optimistic model. To get there we either have to:</div>
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<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Choose to change our lifestyles to make better use of space and start planting forests</li>
<li style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.42857em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Choose to tax carbon to force ourselves to change our behavior.</li>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">I get lost reading r/bestof over yonder there on the website reddit, and information like this is just real enough that you've GOT to fucking save it. Fight me google ad sense, gimme money.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">https://np.reddit.com/r/technology/comments/5zgcse/bill_gates_a_clean_energy_future_why_a_group_of/dexxgwf/</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">HERE'S A LINK TO THE SPECIFIC COMMENT THIS IS FROM IF THE COPIED LINKS DON'T SURVIVE. H8 uuuuuuuuuu</span></span></div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-37119008470469943622016-07-03T12:38:00.000-07:002016-07-03T12:43:13.156-07:00Steele nose, a brindle tiger dog<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
It was the summer of 2014, maybe 13, when my father asked me to drive down to Alexandria to pick up a pupper who'd become a companion for the King of beds, Padre.</div>
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Willingly obliged, cause I wasn't doing anything else right then. Steele was being rehomed, and had been taken/given back to the greyhound adoption agency because he had a knack for being a runner. If you'd let him outside, off leash, he was gonna jettison off and out near top speed like a greyhound would love to do.</div>
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Dadderino and I agree that because he wouldd run, his keepers would probably punish him harshly. Upon meeting Steele you'll notice a few predominant scars across the body. There's maybe a 1/4 inch rise on his snout that for some reason didn't flatten out, just forward of his right hip and up about 30 degrees he's got this 1.5 inch scar that's kind of bowling pin shaped, on his left side on his high ribs there's a another dark mark devoid of fur, and he's got a few patches on his chest of similar character.</div>
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That's unknown, because greyhounds are raised from weening to be racers and not dogs, so it's entirely plausible some of those scars were from his kennel days, but it doesn't matter.</div>
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He was a little at odds with Padre upon arriving, but having another dog to hang out with probably helped him absorb into the household easier. There are two leather couches in the living room, one two part love seat and a three section couch. Padre'd staked out the love seat, and within days Steele began squatting on the sofa. </div>
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Those first few months I'd always leash him before ever opening a door, but not to padre who understood the pattern of hanging out on the porch and catching a fresh breath before attaching the lead to his collar. As Steele grew accustomed, and my trust in him had built, we got to the point where you could do the same thing and we'd all stand outside and weave circles around me as the fresh excitement to walk got out their minds.</div>
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Dogs make noises, some noises most of the time, bit greyhounds are different as a result of being race animals. If you can get one excited, talk about walks, they'll get excited and let out a holler or a grunt or some mixture between that and a whinny.</div>
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Bless his heart, if you talk him up the right way or make him weight longer than he likes to, Steele will stand up on two legs to show how eager he is to be trotting down the sidewalk. He's a pretty sizeable mutt.</div>
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Not many people assume he weighs 75 pounds, but if you pick him up you know instantly. He's a pretty tall dog, and comes up to at least three feet standing on four legs. My favorite way to introduce people to him used to be picking him up and spinning back and forth left and right at a slow roll. You know how a chicken head stays in one spot if you're holding the body and move it directionally? Well Steele changes his head direction depending on how you spin, and going the other way makes him turn his neck and look that way too. </div>
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He's a pretty solemn pupper. Real quiet, likes to lay down in odd places, and think about his finances both local and abroad. I love to lay down next to him, or any dog, and kind of look him in the eyes and see how long he'll let me stare at him. His soft brown eyes are so shallow with depth. Toward the edges they're a little more gold, and they're pools of beauty surrounded by a white sclera. After one such time, he kind of grunted at me, to which I mimicked the sound back his way. We exchanged noises a good 5 or 6 times before he picked his head up and pointed it away from me.</div>
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At the beginning, he'd walk into the kitchen when nobody was there to eat cat food but leaving a baby gate there and clapping at him while he eat feline food a few times let him learn how the kitchen wasn't his place to hang out.</div>
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If I could walk Steele solo forever it would totally happen, he's just so if fun to be alone with. Ordinarily he will walk on the left side of a sidewalk giving me ample space for the right. Moving far right and ahead to sniff a tree, I keep walking because the leashes are 15 foot leads, and he'll always catch up around behind you to the left and wrap you with the lead. He's a careful thinker, and you can see him pondering routes to walk when we get to a corner that goes straight or turns.</div>
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There's something odd about his posture that I've never seen in the other 3 greyhounds we've loved or fostered, and that's that he keeps his head up high. Sight hounds are long necked, big eyed, poor smelling monsters, but Steele always keeps his head up and pointed like somebody of refined tastes wearing a starched collar. He's doesn't have good running or jogging stamina, I think because his head is always right inches higher than it needs to be up and looking forward. All the others kept their heads pointed forward, from the shoulders out and ahead from their bodies but this guy holds his straight up like an ostrich.</div>
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The bastard sniffs out food and I've had to pull many a chicken bone from his eager jaws. With their long narrow snouts, it's easy to wrap your hand around it and insert some fingers to convince him to drop the breast or thigh bones haha.</div>
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No idea how big a dog's bladder is, but he starts off strong peeing on everything. Trees, light posts, sign posts, fire hydrants, cars that are so far down the driveway their bumper's extend over the sidewalk, and onto a driveway trying to hit the bumper of a truck that's too tall for him to reach.</div>
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In the rainy season, he's an avid puddle drinker. Most dogs have some sort of funk to their breath, some dogs even have bad breath, but it's very cool that Steele's is neutral. We get face to face at least thrice a week and I never get scared away from an odor creeping out of his mouth.</div>
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He's got this weird fetish about where he poops, and it's most often in a bush, next to one, beside and at the base of a tree, inside tall grasses or in a perennial cluster. I often get everything out in one go, but Steele's always been a two poop shoot kind of guy. Two can easily be three. I always want to and seldom succeed in taking a pic of him hunched over bush hiding his load, or him squatted back at a tree looking straight out away from it while pondering dreams of a beach somewhere. He's a quirky kind of weird, and I love it.</div>
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We haven't done this a lot recently due to the heat but it's fun to get down on his level, wrap both arms around him and just hug him for a while. I read somewhere that most dogs aren't big fans of being hugged, but Steele's not most dogs. After about thirty seconds he starts to lean on you always adding more weight until he's trying to push us over and I'm the thing holding us up. These exchanges are typically about three minutes, but they can go up to seven minutes until we end it and go back about our business.</div>
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Steele's pretty quirky and reserved. With nothing better to do, he likes standing in one spot looking at you or maybe through you just lost in his head. He doesn't come when you call, and most of the time will avoid you just because you showed interest. He's a real hoot.</div>
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We spend a lot of time hanging out in the same area, me and him. Every night and some of the day whenever I'm not doing shit but hanging out in bed. Years ago I took this doggy bed we had had since padre came through, and it was sitting at the edge of the living room hardly being utilized. One day I picked it up and placed it in my room, and it garnered a little extra foot traffic my way.</div>
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I'd had this older red and Persian frilled with gold thread comforter that ended up my way. It was winter, and I'd kept it on the foot of my bed just to keep these toesies warm. As spring came and things warmed up, the toe warmer blanket became unnecessary. Instead of washing it and stowing it away, it ended up on top of that doggy bed and Steele was smitten. Due to a misfortune, my dad invited Padre into his bed some day and spent the next three years regretting ever doing it. That was his perch, and the red blanket on a foam bed on the floor of my room is Steele's. He's a lazy poop, and will spend hours basking on the thing, kick it off onto the carpet and then lay on it off his bed all content like his world couldn't be better.</div>
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Sometimes I'll take that skewn blanket, pull it out from under him to give it a folder-ooni and place back rectangularly on top of that bed. When that happens, he stands up and walks 4 feet away to turn around and look at me with this shocked expression, like 'why would you do such a thing.' After throwing it back down and stepping out of his way, he will tip toe on over back to his perch with glee, circle three times, then lay down begrudgingly to forget it ever happened.</div>
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It's his safe space, and whenever he's scared or frightened that's where he recovers. Right now it's the third of July, and the last couple of days there have been fireworks intermittently so he'd be in that room, on top a blanket, cowering with his mouth open and letting saliva escape out onto ole redderoo. No animals are fans of big bangs, but since grey hounds are trained to race and catch Rusty the Rabbit at the sound of a gunshot firing, I wonder if, he's a little PTSD'd over being a young dog forced to run competitively when a shot was fired. Tomorrow's the fourth, and of nothing comes up I'll probably be hanging out in bed reading a book with some white noise hoping he feels safe while shots, booms, and explosions rattle outside that window all up and down the streets. </div>
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Of the three dogs we've had, we were never told Steele's full racing name. You can google Padre of Ruckus or WS Sweet Pea and find their pedigree, from what line of dogs they originated, and even their race records, but that never happened with Steele despite the occasional search. </div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-53450782102908026072016-02-16T13:33:00.001-08:002016-02-16T13:36:43.140-08:00monday, 1st of february <div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">The joy of life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">Joie de vie<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">I’m either simple or
happy, though quite possibly simply happy; a good part of my childhood involved
small town Louisiana and the joys associated with such. There’s this
perspective on life called <i>Joi de Vie</i>,
French for the joy of life, that I love to think about. It’s a serendipitous way
to look at things like the glass is 60% full, that you have time to talk about
what’s exciting, and that you take the time to be excited even if just for the
moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">South Louisiana is the
kind of magical place you can’t compare to anywhere else, especially if you
live in north La. Maybe it’s the small town structure anywhere sort of in the
country, but I like to think it’s that subtropical climate where elephant ear
plants and some bushy palms love to thrive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">Monday, 2/1/2016, I
drove home from new Iberia, Louisiana after an amazing weekend with my
grandmother and aunts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">Leaving my granny’s
house, I stopped at the local corner store to grab a bottle of water and had a
fantastic conversation with a stranger named Peggy. There, I shared with her a story about
my grandfather’s adoption. We were on Duperior street in a small down,
literally across the street from Mount Carmel academy, formally Dauterive’s
hospital where the following story takes place ------<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><b>The
Treasure Of A Child</b></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Written by Shirley C. Breaux (not my granny, keep
reading to the end.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">'The old Frederick
Hotel in New Iberia, Louisiana was where it all began. The date was October 19,
1921. A young black woman had been given a baby boy and for reasons unknown
decided not to acknowledge this fact to her parents. Sad and homesick, she wanted
to go home. The father of the child arranged for a black lady to care for this
child, as a baby sitter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Weeks passed. The
couple did not return. The black lady found herself in a dilemma. In 1921, no
matter how much love and care was given, a black woman was not allowed to rear
a white baby. Dauterive hospital was founded by a doctor of the same name. This
doctor was compassionate and kind, as well as a provider of medical skills and
he possessed a special understanding of the people he treated. The baby was
brought to the hospital and the doctor intelligently and with common sense
found a solution to the problem of figuratively, if not relatively!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Across the street
from Dauterive Hospital, there lived a childless couple. Their names were
Gervais Edward LeBlanc and Adeline Dugas LeBlanc. Adeline was the doctor's
patient and he was privy to the fact that this lady longed with all her heart
to be the mother of a child. The doctor advertised in the news media seeking
the parents of the abandoned baby boy. Legal steps were taken when the natural
parents were not found. When the path was cleared for adoption, the doctor
called Adeline and asked her to come see something in the hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Adeline Dugas
LeBlanc crossed the street. She went into Dauterive Hospital and met with the
doctor. He took her into a room introduced her to a healthy baby boy.
"Well. Adeline" the doctor is quoted as saying, "I have
something for you, do you want this baby?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And, so, Huntz
LeBlanc became the cherished son of Gervais Edward LeBlanc and Adeline Dugas
LeBlanc. He moved in the LeBlanc home across the street from Dauterive
Hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The little boy
enjoyed enviable time growing up. His parents doted on him, but never allowed
him to be "bad", knowing with strict Cajun heritage that a child must
be good to be happy. Huntz LeBlanc still lives in the house that he grew up in
and sleeps in the same bed he did as a boy. He concluded his memories with the
observation... "Mama found me at the Dauterives... and I found my wife,
Shirley at the same place." Dauterive's was a lucky place in my
life.' (That's my granny, Shirley Breaux
LeBlanc)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">-------- Peggy loved
hearing that story. Her passenger had exited the quickie-mart and returned to
sitting in her passenger seat, so Peggy excitedly hopped out of her driver side
seat to tell me something fantastic from her family history. Peggy’s mother was
disfigured due to an illness. The woman had ‘cancer’ on her face, which ate
away at her skin leaving her in wretched pain. In older Creole culture there's
a term for a healer, known as a <i>Traiteur</i>.
The person would lay hands on you, pray, for the hope of some healing to occur.
Peggy tells me about her mother whose nose had been eaten by cancer, which just
left the cartilage. Her family sought out a <i>Traiteur</i>,
she didn’t tell me where or how they came across one, but after locating one the
woman came over and assessed the problem. She then applied a sav (salve,
ointment) to the area, wrapped her face in bandages, and prayed for a healing.
Peggy described her mother’s pain, how when it would hurt, she would hold her
face and pray about the problem. Peggy then told me that one day the pain stopped,
and her mother went on to live a full life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">In my opinion, <i>Joi de Vie </i>means so much. It’s a motto
of life, the kind you carry with you where ever you go. It’s stopping to talk
to a stranger, telling them something magic in my life, and hearing a magical
story in return. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">My long weekend had been so great
(Friday to Monday) and I was excited. A good friend I met in college at
Northwestern State University of Natchitoches, lives in Alexandria. It’s the quintessential
halfway mark between New Iberia and Shreveport, where I live. and I had shot Will
a text the Sunday before and asked if he was going to be busy on Monday, where
he explained he wasn’t busy and to stop by. I fought my way down MacArthur
drive in Alex. fighting the early afternoon rush. A few days prior I had
decided to start writing stories, exactly what this blog is, and gave him and
his girlfriend Raven a full unscripted story of all of the idea floating around
in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 14.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">We talked somewhere
between one and two hours, and with the setting sun around 4 in the afternoon,
I’d made the decision to carry forward home. Having spent time in Will’s house
after a failed 20 mile hike one time, I asked his permission and made my way to
the bathroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Will has this big, dark
beautiful German shepherd named Sampson, and he’s a cool dude. Walking in to
the house, he stands up from laying five feet from the door and I scratch his
head playfully and speak excitedly like you would an old friend. I continue on
to the bathroom to take care of business, where everything flows well, and
carry on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Sampson had laid down
after I walked away, and got back up as I made for the exit. He got more head
scratches, more sweet talk, and on the way out the door I tried giving him a
full pet from noggin to tail. About the time my left hand reaches his hips, he
gets aggressive and starts to bark at me. 4 or 5 barks later and he needs to
bite this stranger in his home. I jumped out the way of that first snap, while
walking the four feet to the door. He went for a second bite on the side of my
left calf while I was reaching for the door, and luckily less than ten teeth
graced my skin. I had the door opened and in a last ditch effort sweet Sampson
bite my right back pocket and held onto my wallet as I walked out the door and
shut it behind me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Here's what Sam was able to do: (I'll legitimately have those pictures embedded after figuring out how. Fight me.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;">http://imgur.com/sdkR00J</span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">http://imgur.com/Nlurst7</span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Will and Raven had
stood up, hearing Sam barking, and looked concerned as I emerged from the
abyss. Now Raven’s a very sweet, shy person who’d rather listen than talk. We
went back to sitting on a swing, I laughed and talked about more things while
Will took care of Sampson. I mentioned to her how a dog wanting to steal my money,
and walking away with it, would be a great addition to this <i>Joi de Vie</i> story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Will was embarrassed by
Sam's behavior and proceeded to punish his dog, he’s got a large backyard and
this doggy door giving the house’s dogs free reign to come in or out. He had
walked inside to warn Sam he’d made a mistake. Raven and me were sitting on
that swing talking, and he had walked outside, toward his truck, and then back
inside again with a leash. After coming
back outside again, he described how necessary it was to punish Sam, and as a
result he planned to leave him on a post long enough to know he’d made a
mistake. He came out and apologized for the behavior, but the joy of life
personality in me could only laugh at that fortuitous afternoon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Will is a good friend
and I look forward to the day ten years down the road when this will be funny,
but his beautiful puppy wanted my money and I could only laugh at the
afternoon's events. I’m nervous that all dogs just want my money try to keep
things in plastic near friends on four legs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222;">Joi de vie</span></i><span style="color: #222222;"> is a
charismatic way of looking at life. Each day is exciting and new, and if you’re
lucky enough, you may see something you’ll want to talk about that evening,
write down as a story somewhere, and still laugh about when you’re older and
see good friends a whole lot less. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-31813637416618983262016-02-14T19:24:00.005-08:002016-02-14T19:24:53.716-08:00i am a sociopath<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I am a sociopath<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Hello all, my name
is Jason Thomas and to some degree I’m sociopathic. Here's my opinion of what
that means from my perspective:<br />
I don't know that I feel, but I think I know how to feel.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I am verbose and wordy, there are
times when I won't or can't stop talking (it takes a good three drinks,
sometimes a buzz). You would never know the inner dialogue happening in my head
that doesn’t end. Less than 1/10 of the words thought or conversations created
internally ever reach my vocal cords.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I am this way due to the tragic
loss of my mother from our family when I was 11 years old and in the seventh
grade. She didn't pass on a leap year, but sometimes I wish she had, instead of
on February, 28th, just so the day didn't come around every year.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Some back story:
my sister and I had wonderful childhoods, we just had to grow up way too soon.
My parents both met and retired from the USAF. Mother was a lab technician, to
some degree she worked or ran the lab, and I say that because I have at least
three bad memories of mom bringing me to work a few times.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">We lived in
Nebraska on a street with a hill, I remember walking up that street on a pretty
day, and walking down it on a snowy winter day. Apple trees in the backyard, we
had two dogs named Christie and Noel, one a beautiful dalmatian the other a
spunky little black terrier.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">That's when my
earliest memories are from, from making noises in my crib? And just playing
with low noises in my vocal cords until mom or dad would come pull me out. Mom
would often start drinking a cup of coffee, she'd make me a small cup of lesser
strength to drink while she drank hers.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I'm not going to
lie and say I wasn't, but I was and still to some extent today am a momma's
boy. My friendship with friend's mothers is different than my and that friend's
relationship.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Mother retired and
father continued to be active because he had joined much later than she had. He
spent a year in south Korea, when us three remaining packed up and went to
south Louisiana to live at grandmother's for a year.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
After that we spent 3 years living in paradise at Hickam air force base in
Hawaii. Most days you had to go swimming at the pool because the beach was a
little bit farther away, but every day was beautiful.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
From there my father was reassigned to Barksdale afb in Bossier City Louisiana.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I don't know how
long my mother had been a smoker, but I think it was ultimately what led to her cancer. She didn't wean herself off cigarettes until we began living in Bossier
City, because by that time she'd outgrown her addiction to them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Before we knew
what she had, my mother would get piercing, blinding, headaches from anywhere
to 30 seconds to a minute. After she got those headaches, she went to the
doctor and was diagnosed with breast cancer. I could have been no older than 9
by the time that happened. Maybe 8. My sister and I were never told how bad her
diagnosis was, but often times I think she didn't have good odds from the
beginning. My mother had a mastectomy performed to remove her breasts, and I
remember days after she came home she began losing feeling in her feet. You
see, the cancer had spread throughout her body, and to my knowledge what was
responsible for the loss of feeling was a tumor or growth on her spine.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My favorite person
in the world lost the ability to walk. The next many months she would spend
time between at least 2 rehab centers on the south side of Shreveport. My father
drove that thirty minute drive every afternoon after work, at least that’s what
my memory remembers. I wish I had gone to see her more often, but I preferred to spend
my afternoons riding a bicycle around neighborhoods. No hands on the handle bars, just hands
in my pockets balancing, going nowhere in particular. Chasing an escape almost,
wanting to be in any reality but mine. In her hospital room, I had learned how
to hold a wheelie in her wheel chair much the same way I’d cruise up
and down streets on the bike. No hands required, just focused on pursuit. In those afternoon to evening visits, we'd sit together and I was playing around the room in her hospital issued wheel chair.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
Mother was there until her doctors decided to let her come home to pass
peacefully.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I helped my father
demolish his bathroom before she came home to retro fit it to make it handicap
accessible. At that time and in that place, I really enjoyed destroying that
old nearly seafoam green shower tiles. Standing in the shower with a hammer and
just destroying it. It was a labor of love, and one that required hard work and
I enjoyed doing it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Mother came home,
I would go to school. She'd been a fan of Star trek and the show series
Highlander all my life, and I think she would watch her shows while spending a
little bit of time with each of the three cats we had at that time.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I have some awful
memories of not helping my mother enough at that time in her or my life, I was
angry about my dying mother and happy to ignore her when she'd ask for help
with something. That thought today makes me angry and sad, that I could have
done more for the best person I ever knew. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Family had
collected around, and my mother's best friend who I call Aunt Sue (no
relation). One night my father's father asked me to spend the night with him at
his RV, and I jumped at the opportunity. I'd said goodnight to my mother before
leaving and she was still Darlene LeBlanc Thomas that night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I didn't know that
coming back the next day, after a great night hanging out with Papa Tom,
that would never seen the mother I'd
known all my life again. My beautiful mother, covered in freckles and with a
smile that'd light up a room.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I know why I'm sociopathic.
Because during my formulative years my heart was broken.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The morning mom passed, I woke up
and had the feeling you have when you’re the last person to arrive to anywhere
or thing. I woke up intending to go to school, but instead woke up to hugs and
crying about somebody who's life had left her slowly and then quickly over a
span of maybe two years. Dad offered the chance to skip school that day, and I
jumped at the opportunity. I’m almost certain I wouldn't have made it at school
that day. My world as I'd known it had been snuffed. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">That day I
remember her passing, having the chance to not go to school, eating Mexican food
for lunch with Dad and Papa Tom, and a softball game that evening where my
sister played shortstop or second base. She had gone to school that day and
told her friends about it, and when they saw me they immediately hugged me. It's
a warm thought. It was getting dark and the game wasn't engaging as an audience
member, and I told my father I'd decided to walk on home to where Aunt Sue was
hanging out. I remember walking home from what was then my middle school, an
every day occurrence after school, and walking home down the long road of
Waller avenue, which wasn’t the normal afternoon route. I remember feeling
empty on that walk home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">By the time I'd
made it home, I think I had cried myself out and decided what would become
instinct over the next many years. Saying "I'm alright," and doing or
trying to a mask on. Sue was sitting on a couch when I walked in, we might have
talked a little bit, but I don't remember any of that.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I pulled into my
shell at that time, to protect me I imagine.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
My father did the same thing, probably for the same reason.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
My sister, 14 at the time, turned to her friends with less than alright
results. Drinking and getting drunk at every chance, and smoking cigarettes as
a way to escape the pain she felt. (Stop smoking Sarah, or I'll kill you before
they do.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My dad doesn't
like to drink very much and I have an alright understanding of why. It's a good
reason.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
I discovered his unused collection of booze early into high school and would
drink it to try and feel something. (No I didn't drink your booze that night Sarah
saved me when drunk. I had emptied your cabinet months in advance, and over a
longer period of time.) I remember my freshman year homecoming dance, I'd
brought a flask to the dance and showed some guys and we all had a little drink
in the bathroom at least twice that night. My favorite teacher in the world is
a wonderful Egnlish teacher who had the misfortune of landing me in her class
that same freshman year, at least thrice I’d brought alcohol to school, gotten
drunk in first block, and suffered through until lunch when the food sobered
me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Earlier up I
mentioned wearing a mask. I do do that. My personality changes to gain favor or
sway with people. It’s easy to do that when you’re an emotional blank wall that
applies color to wash it off when a new color is preferred. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">In an environment
with people I don't know like the back of my hand, I critically think about
every word said they say, how they say it, their inflection and pauses, and
excitement or lack of when speaking. I keep a running tally of what my
over-thinking brain assesses when it's said. Talking or not, I critically think
about what you say and how you say to think of how I can change my tone, angle
of speech, or choice of words to get what I may want out of you or from you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I don't think
that's bad, but don’t see it as necessarily good either. That's what the young
me did to make it through one day to the next. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Why did I write
this? Because I wanted to. It felt necessary to tell a little bit of a story I
keep bottled up, from my perspective, and I wanted to get it out in the air. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564895570858040018.post-5440553064922210182011-03-27T20:31:00.000-07:002011-03-27T20:31:04.716-07:00Blah, today has been one of those days. I'm off of school for the next five days, we're on spring break here and I don't know what to do with my time off. Sure, I want to go out and have wild adventures and enjoy my youth, but I don't want to pay for it with my minimal income and unemployment. I think this break is going to be amazing until Tuesday, but long and drawn out until next Monday. :0TheAmazingJasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125850877141565622noreply@blogger.com16