What Would You Do?

What if you were there in Chicago two months ago when four gangbangers  beat their well-mannered schoolmate, Derrion Albert, to death on the street. Would you have stopped it? Do you really believe yourself to be capable of stopping such a thing? Or would you turn and walk away?

Think of the story of Kitty Genovese, who was stabbed to death on the streets of New York while all of her neighbors just watched, and never even called the police.

What if you were on the bus when Rosa Parks wouldn’t vacate the front seat and move to the back. Would you have stood up for her? We all like to think that we would have. I’ve pictured myself lecturing some rednecks on the proper treatment of the elderly and then beating the stuffing out of them. But would I have done it? Would I have risked jail in that time, or the pack turning on me? Would I have defied my own race to stand up for someone else? Would I have been able to resist the pack mentality of men that grows their fragile egos? I’d like to think so, but it’s a tough question. Few people can resist the chance to raise themselves above someone else, or kick them while they’re down.

That used to be my favorite part of practicing martial arts. The unbelievable feeling of control as you start to gain the upper hand in a match or even just sparring. When someone’s hurt, there’s the opportunity to pounce and beat him into submission. It’s very difficult to resist the urge to press the attack. Just like when animals are hunting; they don’t search out the strongest, most dangerous prey; they find the weak. And when the prey is hurt, the pack jumps in and kills.

One of the worst examples of pack-mentality ever reported: Just last month, a 15-year-old girl was gang-raped outside a Homecoming dance in Richmond, California. Upwards of 20 passers-by either joined in or just stood there and watched while she was raped for two and a half hours. What is wrong with people?

How about the millions of Nazis who just went along with mass-murder? They had no idea that might have been the wrong thing to do?

When you find yourself witnessing something that shouldn’t be happening, you better know what you’re going to do about it before you get there.

Bribing your Mailman

This is gonna sound a little jacked up considering the fact that I have several friends that are mail carriers, but… With the holidays approaching, I’ve seen a lot of blogs and articles about the etiquette of tipping your mailman.

What exactly am I tipping him for? Bringing me bills? Cramming my mail box full of trash and junk mail? Delivering a good percentage of my private mail already suspiciously opened?

It’s not as if I don’t believe in tipping. My wife’s usually jealous and yelling at me about over-tipping waitresses, for example. But here’s the difference between waitresses and your mailman. Most waitresses make minimum wage and have their tips deducted from their paychecks (especially if you pay with a credit card, most restaurants will automatically track tips and take the tip from their pay). My mailman, with about 14 years on the job, makes around $25 an hour (not too shabby) for driving in circles and putting paper in boxes.

Or am I supposed to be “tipping” him to prevent my mail from being ripped up, opened, or lost? When I go to work, customers don’t throw me a little something extra if I actually do my job. What gives? Or are my customers short-changing me, too?

Killing and Eating Socialism

If an African lion wants to eat, it has to kill. But 9 out of 10 times that a hungry lion tries to run down a gazelle, it fails. So, how on Earth are there still lions around after all those failed attempts? The lion gets hungrier and hungrier, yet weaker and weaker with every failed attempt, often struggling for days, maybe even weeks, and approaching starvation before it finally succeeds and can eat. Desire, even desperation, is the explanation for his eventual success. 

This is why Socialism and even Socialism “Lite” (social programs) don’t work; they strip away the desire to succeed. Once a lion is brought into captivity, or any animal, it is likely never to be released into the wild again. The animal has grown accustomed to having his needs provided for, and has lost his ability to succeed on his own.

It’s the same thing that made me worthless around the house as a child. Like most kids, I could never really get behind a big day of room cleaning or garage organization. It was always just half-assed enough to make it look like I made an attempt. Why would I do anything more? It’s not as if my parents were going to stop feeding me or kick me out of the house if I didn’t do a good job.

When I left the care of my parents, I figured out just how hard it was to succeed on my own. Eventually, just in the past few years, I ended up working as a superintendent for a large contractor, starting my own construction company, selling real estate for ERA, working as a personal trainer at Bally’s, teaching martial arts in the park, and going back to school, all while still a reservist in the Navy, and all at the same time. Why did I maintain 6 jobs and stay in school, too? I wanted to buy a house. Of course, like everyone else who bought in the past five years, now I wish I hadn’t, but that’s beside the point. If I had turned to the government for assistance, I’d still be where I was five years ago.

Some people who are incapable of providing for themselves due to injury, disability, or illness will always need to be taken care of by family, and failing that, by society as a whole. That’s how we roll. Nobody is going to turn their back on the suffering, and tell them to get a job if they’ve got no arms and legs, or can’t work for whatever reason. But for the rest of us, desire is the key to survival and success. When government removes need and desire, through a multitude of handouts, they remove success. And not only is the desire to work removed from those who recieve the handouts, but also from those who have to work twice as hard to pay for them.

Speed up Your Writing

Nobody wants to write essays. Most students complain about the length of time devoted to writing term papers, research reports, and the like. The average university student may spend several hours each day over the course of a week to complete a five to ten page essay. Would it be less miserable if you could just get it on paper faster?

Some of these may sound odd, but here’s a few tips from a professional author, on how to write faster:

1. Have a rough outline (try a voice recorder).

2. Stop trying so hard to make it longer (simpler will be faster).

3. Relax (with a few cocktails if need be).

4. Speak your mind (be argumentative and controversial. At least you have an opinion).

5. Practice (take a few minutes to paraphrase someone else. It will help you prepare).

6. Talk to yourself (often and at length. Whatever’s in your head, get it out, in words).

Wow, really…what a revelation, you say. WTF? Let me explain further. If you are trying endlessly to reword every sentence to fit as many words in it as possible, consulting the thesaurus to use bigger words, trying to sound smarter by explaining each sentence as if the reader started in the middle of the paper, or using any other full-of-crap tactics to increase the size of your essay, you’re really just making it harder and harder on yourself, and producing a confusing and far worse product. Simplicity allows you to maintain your train of thought, consequently writing faster.

Demonstration, please.

Average full-of-crap essay:

In the early morning of December seventh, in the year nineteen-hundred and forty-one, the Imperial Navy of the nation of Japan launched a surprisingly well-orchestrated attack on the United States Navy’s Pacific Fleet docked at Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands.

You may even think that sound good, and wish you could turn half a dozen words into bullshit like that. But it’s not good. It’s ridiculous. You’re much better off stating the simple facts simply, and expanding on them simply in subsequent sentences. Do not fill your essays with non-factual opinions like “surprisingly well-orchestrated.” Wasn’t that surprising to the Japanese, and shouldn’t have been surprising to the staff at Pearl Harbor, since they intercepted Japanese messages concerning the attack before it happened and ignored them as training messages, mistakes, or confusion. Maybe you’d be better off writing about that? And don’t expand pointlessly on the location of familiar places, or write out familiar dates as if you’re just trying to make your paper longer (which you are, and everybody knows it). Let’s continue the example.

Better than average essay:

On December 7th, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. It has long been thought of as a surprise attack, but could it have been stopped? It was certainly surprising to the citizens of the United States who were happy to be staying out of World War II. It was also a surprise to the sailors lost on board the many vessels sunk that morning by the Japanese air strike. But could misinterpreted message intercepts be the real culprit behind the devestation?

The second version is twice as long as the first essay introduction. The real difference, though: something was said, a few points made, and an interesting problem was presented. Everybody knows what happened at Pearl Harbor, after all, it is “a day that will live in infamy forever,” so do something different with it. Same goes for all your writing. If your instructor can only remember one of the 34 essays he’s read, guess which one is going to be the top of the curve.

So how do you really do that? This is one of the most important things that nobody will ever tell you: talk to yourself. Just don’t get all crazy with it and get yourself straight-jacketed. Talking to yourself will help you realize whatever your opinion is and work it all out in a logical manner. Hearing your potential written words out loud reinforces your understanding of the subject matter and helps commit it to your memory so that you can more easily recall it on paper later. You also need to be semi-prepared, at least. Make sure you’ve read at least the highlights of what you’re supposed to be expanding on. If you have a tendancy to plagiarize, it’s almost better if you haven’t read the whole thing word for word. You also need to have an outline. Not the ridiculous two page outline they made you write in junior high, just a couple of words to help you remember what points you’re covering. The outline for my book, Trust No One, that I’m writing now, is about a half page (double-spaced) at the end of my Word document, so it’s always right in front of me and easy to refer to.

As far as speaking your mind goes, I’m sure there are plenty of people around who think you talk too much and are tired of listening to your B.S., so put it on paper. Just remember to talk it through first. You’ve got plenty of opinions, just make sure you can present them in some sort of order. Take notes as you talk it though (not think it through, talk it through).

And relaxation is different for everyone. Just make yourself comfortable when you write, especially if writing makes you particularly uncomfortable. My study group had a hard time understanding my need to drink during our meetings at first, but whatever works. That’s what keeps my mouth working and my hands busy writing, because I’m not a naturally outgoing or talky sort of fellow.

Here’s one of my favorite classic relaxation methods:

an “Old Fashioned”

-Two shots of Bourbon (that’s 2 ounces, a double). I like Wild Turkey.

-Two maraschino cherries.

-An orange wedge.

-A spoonful of sugar.

-A dash of Bitters.

-Muddle (smash) all the ingredients together in the bottom of a short glass (a bucket), fill the glass with ice, then top it off with 7-up. The recipe actually calls for soda water, but trust me, it’s way better with 7-up. Then give it a good mixing with a bar spoon or whatever you got. Top it with an orange slice and maraschino “flag” if you want to look like a professional.

Before you know it, writing will be Pavlov’s bell, and you will be his dog, salivating at the chance to settle in with your laptop and a couple of shots of Bourbon. If anyone objects, just remind them how well it worked for Hemmingway. But don’t forget to proofread your work once you’ve sobered up. It’s not my fault if you call your professor a cocksucker.

Healthcare Crisis Solved

I didn’t know for sure that I had broken my arm until about six years after the fact. It was actually the fourth time that I’d broken it, badly enough that I had a second elbow and my lower arm was folded in half. I carried my arm over to the X-ray table and did my best to hold it upright with my other hand. Tech says, “Oh, not the first time you’ve been here.” Of course, it was actually the first time I’d been there, so he showed and explained to me all the healed fracture lines in my bones on the X-ray film.

Wasn’t that surprising, since I’d spent two separate non-consecutive summers trying to hide from my parents, the fact that I couldn’t move my arm too much or turn my hand. Why would someone hide a broken arm, you ask? Well, I grew up with a father who would not even go to the dentist to get his teeth cleaned. I only went to the dentist twice before I was 18 years old. Luckily, I have a lot of calcium in me and abnormally hard teeth, so I never had a cavity despite my lack of childhood dental care.

But anyway, the first time I broke my arm (after being bucked off a horse), I couldn’t stop crying about it like the young child that I was, until Dad threatened me with medical care. It went something like this: “If it hurts that bad, we’ll have to take you to the hospital and they’ll break your arm again to fix it.”

That finally quieted me down. It hurt bad enough the first time, I didn’t need my arm broken again. So, I spent the next 4 or 5 weeks hiding my non-rotating lower arm until it healed. Did it again two summers later, twice, after falling off my skateboard, and again at the end of the summer, after falling off a swing. I sure fell off a lot of stuff, but anyhow, I was always more afraid of medical care than I was of injuring myself in the first place.

My dad still won’t hardly go to the doctor. My step-mom took him about a week after he had a stroke a couple of years ago just for being tired of him dragging his leg behind him and having to do everything one-handed. He’s a little better now, but still hates the doctor, and so do I.

So I think I finally discovered the cure for our troubled and expensive healthcare system. It won’t take generations to pay for it; it will just take one generation of kids having an abnormal fear of medical treatment instilled into them. Hell, I’ve only been to the doctor twice in my adult life. Once when I was pissing blood from kidney stones, and once when I almost died from a painkiller allergy. Dad was right about the dentist. That’s where I got the painkillers, after I let him talk me into pulling my wisdom teeth. The dentist almost killed me.

So, for everyone who doesn’t want to go to college and work hard to get a better job with health insurance coverage for your family, don’t just stand there with your hand out waiting for the government to solve your problems… all you need to do is threaten your children with the horrors of medical treatment.

Memories of Mom

Inspired by a reference from Adam Carolla, as I was listening to the podcast on the way in this morning, I fondly remembered one of the greatest family moments of my childhood.

It was a beautiful summer night. I was about eleven years old. And Mom had a big surprise for us on family movie night. Apparently, it was a surprise for her as well, although looking back, I’ve often wondered how on earth she didn’t know. The movie rental selections she brought home that night: the masterpieces of big-screen lesbian-prison porn, Caged Heat, and of course, Chained Women. A couple of true classics. 

Much to the disappointment of my brothers and I, we were only allowed to view about twenty minutes of each before Mom firmly ruled out all possibilities that the lesbian shower scenes were a one-time anomaly. Oh, the highs and lows that evening. The thrill of watching your first porn, and the disillusionment when it was stripped away. 

I don’t know about my brothers, but I managed to stay awake late that night and familiarize myself with Jonathan Demme’s classic after Mom went to bed. I may have “familiarized” myself with it a couple of times actually.

If you’d like to spice up your family’s movie night, although not directed by Demme, check out Caged Heat II or Caged Heat 3000, the burning unrelated sequels. If you vaguely recognize the name Jonathan Demme, it might be from some of his later work like Silence of the Lambs or Philadelpia, reasonable films as well, but lacking the masturbatory thrills that your pre-teen sons may be looking for.

And if somehow you’re not familiar with Adam Carolla, I’ve got to plug one of my favorite shows, check out the link under the blogroll.

Why We’ll Never Win Another War

I’ve thought long and hard about whether I should even write this down or not, but I hope it serves as a motivator to the young NCO’s tired of their leaders’ bullshit.

The first time I realized we’d never win another war was the first day I put my boots on the ground in Camp Spearhead at the Port of Ash Shuaiba. I was not met by war-hardened veterans and commanders screaming the mission into my virgin ears as I thought I might be. No, I was met with three days of politely taught courses about how not to hurt the enemy’s feelings : “Don’t look at women, don’t raise your left hand to anyone, and don’t snicker when you see the men who are your enemy holding hands and snuggling– that’s just their culture.”

And we weren’t even moving out to the front lines, we were in the rear with the gear, off loading equipment from ships. Certainly they weren’t telling the men at the front the same thing, but they were, most soldiers on their way in, came through “How to be a Pussy 101″ at Camp Spearhead to begin with. Some people won’t like this, but the way you win a war is this: Kill lots and lots of people until they give up. No one is afraid of us or our amazing weapons because we don’t use them for their intended purpose. There’s a point where weapons have lost their value as a deterent, and need to be used as weapons (that time may be long before your 8th year into battle). It’s way past time to shit or get off the pot, already.

Now, here’s how I know it’s not the ordinary soldiers and sailors that are the problem; it’s the management. While I was deployed in 2004, I was made a Ship Supervisor about three months into it, responsible for orchestrating the plan that would hurriedly off load the new equipment coming in, and just as quickly, get the broken down and shot-up equipment on board and out of the country. Long story short, I was given the Port Commander’s command coin by the Port Commander himself after we set the record for the largest and fastest stow ever. I was a 3rd Class Petty Officer at the time (an E-4). Why couldn’t our usual Ship Supervisors (all Senior Chiefs and Lieutenant Commanders) do that? They are good guys, don’t get me wrong, but they’re thinking too much. Like the old Nike ads: “Just Do It.” As an example, on that ship, when we started unloading the first deck, we encountered a broken down HUMV. Wouldn’t start for anybody, even me (and I got a Letter of Commendation for being able to start every piece of “Deadline” equipment on the pier once), so it was really broken. While a couple of Army Colonels and Captains deliberated with our Commanders about which maintenance company to call from the base and wait for, for up to 4 hours, the solution sat on the pier. So, I went and got the Bradley off the pier and 10 feet of chain, and dragged the piece of crap off the ship while they all screamed at me about my “Reckless and dangerous bullshit!” Well, it is a war gentlemen, reckless and dangerous just might be the order of the day.

When is the leadership going to get in front of the troops and run them ahead to victory instead of doing everything possible to corral them and hold them back? I don’t know if anyone has earned my nickname yet, but there are plenty of hard-chargers in the military who want to be free to do their job.

Signed,

Shit Hot Mike Thompson “the Super-Hard-Charger”, BU2, US Navy Seabees NCHB-14

SAD

As I sit here at what feels like 10:00 at night, look down at my watch, and see that it’s only about 7:00, I’m somehow relieved that I still have all night to waste.

I also realize that to many people, the changing of the clock, earlier and earlier sunsets, and the approaching holidays, are not a time of joy, but a time of sadness. Or maybe I should say SADness. SAD (seasonal affective disorder) is common, particularly in the northern portions of our great land this time of year. It is common enough, that instead of people just being categorized as downers, their disorder was named.

More than a few of you may now be saying, “Disorder? Just pull yourself together, man.” But I’m sure those affected say, “You’re right.” It’s not just a feeling of wishing the sun was still up late, or wishing you could be home for Christmas; it may be an overwhelming feeling of sadness and depression that could even (and often does) lead to suicide.

To those who say “whatever,” good for you. You don’t have a problem. To those who know what I’m talking about, go talk to someone. Most people who are experiencing SAD, need nothing more than talk therapy, even just talking to your friends or colleagues will help. If you know someone who seems a little more down in the dumps than usual, pay attention and help them out. To readers deployed overseas right now, and family members of those deployed, pay attention to your families, fellow soldiers, and shipmates as the holiday season approaches them alone.

House Wins, You Lose

Well the House of Representatives has passed its Health Reform Bill, barely, but it still counts. Too bad, there’s not a single member of the House that can tell you what’s in it. When’s the last time you were able to read more than 2,000 pages of a legal proposal in 72 hours? Oh, never; me either.

I can guarantee you that change is coming. Likely not change for the better, either.

Let’s look at the facts: 85% of the population is currently insured. Of the 15% that is not insured, 11% of them are refusing coverage under their offered employer programs, or refusing to sign up for existing State and Federal programs for which they are eligible. What does that mean? 4% of the current population cannot get insurance, likely due to some pre-existing medical conditions. That is a shame, but do you know which insurer denied the most benefits of any in the country (more than 6% of claims, twice that of any other insurer)? That’s right, Medicare, the existing Federal plan. So how do you expect that the government is going to cut costs? One can only assume that they will do what they’ve been doing, denying claims.

Here’s my other problem: Medicare has cost more than ten times what it was supposed to. So our new Federal plan that calls for a trillion dollar budget, is highly likely to cost ten trillion. Really? You don’t think your taxes are going to be raised as the government takes over more than 20% of the national economy? And the (let’s be honest) 96% of the population that either is happy with their coverage or elects not to have any has no voice? Our only hope is that the Senate has at least a few members who’d like to be re-elected.

And nobody’s going to like this comment (unless you understand business), but here’s how insurance (yes, a business) works: people with a risk pool money together to cover each other and themselves on the off chance that they experience some tragedy. It works well because not everyone has ’some tragedy’ to deal with all the time, so costs are controlled. When you introduce someone who costs more money than everyone else, insurance costs go up (that’s why some people are denied coverage, so the rest can have it). So if everyone is going to be covered, costs will inevitably go up. Real tragic news is this: the government expects to add 2% of the population onto some insurance program while they just fine, tax, and potentially imprison the rest of the uninsured, and that’s going to cost the rest of us around 10 trillion dollars, whereas those 2% and more already get the help they need from any county hospital and a multitude of existing programs.

What do you think is the government’s real agenda?

Feeling Guilty?

If you’re worried about somebody finding out about it, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it.

Life is only as stressfull and complicated as you make it. Many people thrive on drama (I may possibly be formerly of that cast), but if you don’t need it, don’t create it. All of your problems are caused by your own perceptions of the things taking place around you (many of which probably don’t even directly involve you). Relax, and stop going out of your way to screw everything up.