Saturday, September 25, 2021

This and that

I took a Japanese immigrant senior citizen grocery shopping the other day.  She's lived in this country for more than 40 years.  I bought some things for myself, too, including a jar of malted milk powder.  She looked puzzled at my purchase and asked me how malted milk was different from ordinary powdered milk.  Despite all those decades in this country, she had never heard of malted milk or milk shakes.  

Later, we got to talking about the illegal alien crisis and all the Haitians flooding into Texas and she asked me when the United States had acquired Haiti.  When I said we never had and that it was an independent country, but had once been a colony of France, she was genuinely puzzled:  why were we taking in all those people from  someplace we had no connection too? Then she asked me why we didn't send the army to the border and open fire on the illegals and drive them away.

I used to know a Mexican-American guy who grew up in Salinas and got involved with the gangs there but managed to get away from all that and move to another city where he got a job as an inside bank guard.  He made $11 an hour and was proud of how well he was doing with such a responsible and prestigious job.  Once he asked me didn't I think $11 an hour was good money.  I agreed that it certainly was and he said soon he would have enough money saved to take me out to dinner. Then he got demoted to outside guard.  Instead of being warm and dry inside, with a chair to sit on, he stood outside in all sorts of weather.  And his pay dropped to $8.50 an hour.  Our dinner was postponed.  He had diabetes and the pain in his legs made it impossible to stand for very long.  He lost his job, was evicted from his apartment and then just disappeared.

One of my relatives was an engineer with North American at Downy in the 1960s. He worked on the Apollo Command Module.  I mentioned this to someone I was lunching with once and he said the whole moon landing thing was a hoax and never happened.  I looked at him, looked down at my coffee, then at my wrist where a watch would have been had I been wearing one, said I just realized I had an appointment and had to get going.

When I used to ride the super-crowded commuter trains in Tokyo, sometimes I would be groped.  Once some guy even ejaculated on me.  I didn't realize it until I got home and changed my clothes and saw this...well, you know... and practically tossed my cookies.  I threw that outfit right into the trash.  When I mentioned what had happened to a friend, she complained, "Nobody ever does that to me!"

Another time, when I was walking past a girlie bar in Ayase, the doorman or whatever he was stopped me and asked in broken English if I would like to be a hostess there, handing me a business card.  Then he raised both hands palm up and, smiling, repeated "Oppai!  Oppai!"  

One time I was having dinner with a Japanese graduate student matriculating at Cal and we got to talking about American history.  I mentioned the Civil War. He had never heard of it.  I referenced the Revolution. He looked blank.  He thought slavery was legal throughout the US and that it had only been ended by Martin Luther King, Jr. in the 1960s.  I asked him if he thought the attack on Pearl Harbor was revenge for the atomic-bombing of Hiroshima.  He looked thoughtful, then said he had never considered that but it was probably true.

A Japanese immigrant lady in her mid-80s began to get senile and could no longer be trusted to live by herself in her own apartment anymore so her daughter, whom I know, who works long hours and couldn't look after her, found an assisted-living facility that charged $3,000 a month, a figure she could barely afford, and moved her there.  All the staff were Mexicans and the food they served was the cheapest kind of Mexican food, usually just a bean burrito or plain mollete.  The old lady had a hard time eating such food and asked for some Japanese dishes, especially rice, but the request was denied.  Then the facility supervisor announced that all residents had to get Covid-19 shots.  So her daughter took her for an inoculation.  The shot made her so sick that she was hospitalized for three days.  When she returned to her room at the assisted care facility she found that many of her belongings had been stolen, including $390 in cash that she had entrusted to her personal care provider, a Mexican woman.  This woman denied she had been given any money, saying the old lady was senile and imagining things.  Her daughter called the police to report the theft but the dispatcher hung up on her.

This same old Japanese lady owns property in Harajuku that is worth $8 million. Her daughter wants her to sell it so that she can afford to move to a much better assisted-care facility, but the old lady refuses, saying her father (who has been dead for decades) won't let her.  She receives $1,100 a month Social Security, her daughter earns $60,000 a year, and both their savings are almost exhausted.

Once a guy edging by me in a ship's passageway paused, turned around, followed after me and tapped me on the shoulder.  I looked questioningly at him.  He asked me, "If I tell you something, promise you won't 'me too' me? I said, "Sure, I guess."  And he said, "I hope your day is as nice as your ass!"  I said that so far my ass was winning.  Okay, I didn't actually say that, but I thought about saying it.  It had been a crummy day and his lame compliment made me feel good.  I just smiled and went on my way.  But inside my head I was dancing -- not twerking; I don't know how to do that, plus it makes you look like a chimpanzee in heat -- but the Bus Stop, which my mom taught me how to do (it was big in the disco era when she was a hot club babe) and I always dance it when I am happy.  Come on guys!  Don't be shy, give a girl a compliment!

Speaking of compliments, I was showing my friend, who is a real, live PI, around an aircraft carrier one time with some aviator friends and she lagged behind with one guy and later I asked what they were talking about and she said that he was interested to know about her work as a forensic accountant and licensed private investigator.  "He wanted to know if I carried a 'gat.' Kidding, I said I always had one tucked into my garter belt. He said he'd like to see it sometime and I said, what, the gun? and he said no, the garter belt!"

A joke:

There was this guy at a bar just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half of an hour.
Then this big trouble-making truck driver sits down next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and swigs it all down. The poor man starts crying.
The truck driver says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I can't stand to see a man cry."
"No, it's not that," says the guy. "This day is the worst of my life. First, my alarm clock doesn't go off and I'm way late to work. My boss, outraged, fires me. When I leave the building and go to my car, I discover it has been stolen. The police say that they can do nothing. I get a cab to return home, and when I get out I realize I left my wallet and credit cards in it. The cab driver just drives away.
"I go inside my house, arriving earlier than normal, and find my wife in bed with the gardener and the pool boy. I yell at her but the two men beat me up and throw me out of my own house. So I come to this bar. And just when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison."



Friday, September 24, 2021

Shine, perishing republic


Thomas Hart Benton's "Indifference"

While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity,
      heavily thickening to empire,
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops
      and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make
      fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances,
      ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.
You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life
      is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than
      mountains; shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their
      distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, and when the cities lie at the
      monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man,
      a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught
      —they say—God, when he walked on earth. 

~ Robinson Jeffers

 I would burn my right hand in a slow fire
To change the future ... I would do so foolishly.  The
beauty of modern
Man is not in the persons but in the
Disastrous rhythm, the heavy and mobile masses, the dance
of the
Dream-led masses down the dark mountain.

 ~ Robinson Jeffers

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

Au combat fut tue...

"Like some infernal monster
still venomous in death,
a war can go on killing people
long after it is over."

~ Nevil Shute




Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé?  Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé?  Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé? 
Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé?  Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé?  Où est celui que j'ai tant aimé?

Thursday, September 16, 2021

You Don't Know


Bravery doesn't look like what you think.
“Lost in Hell, Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, "My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here. ”
 Edna St. Vincent Millay

 I get so fed up with those God-damned sons of bitches people who complain about women in our armed services.  I get so sick of reading pundits and commenters who disparage women who volunteer to serve.  Fortunately I am not alone:
"How dare someone who's never served a day of their life criticize my Marine Corps and tell other folks who never served a day in their life what the military is all about?
It takes 10 supporting troops for every front line Marine the military fields, much more for the Army. Women were not officially allowed combat duties as recently as the start of the Iraq war, but since then they have more than held their own with the men. So, in spite of these colorful illustrations about women not being able to drag wounded men off the battlefield, this whining and moaning comes from a bunch of cooks and supply clerks who wouldn't know combat if it hit them in the face.
"On the other hand, the female MPs who deployed to Iraq had extensive training on everything from squad movements to heavy weapons. We used to let our females show our support-mos augments how to break apart and re-assemble the .50 cal. Even our 0311 platoon commander lamented that the higher-ups wouldn't allow fully capable women to go outside the wire while we had to risk our lives alongside untrained water purifier augments.
"When my platoon was awarded combat action ribbons for our role in the initial invasion, the female Navy corpsman we had with us was not allowed to have one by her chain of command. It would have been too unprecedented to admit that a female performed the same combat duties as male Marines. Meanwhile she was also caring for wounded enemy prisoners under fire.
"And let's not belittle just how hard females work to overcome the physical shortcomings that they do have. Back when I was in boot camp, the female battalion would have reveille an hour before the rest of us on days we had PT and they would stay out there running for an hour after we were through.
"Face it, we have a volunteer armed forces and we should not begrudge anyone who is willing to put on a uniform and serve. Especially if you're some do-nothing writer who's better suited to staying in the rear and bringing a beer for some of the females service members that you belittle.
"But most importantly of all, I will not stand for some civilian trying to tell people that today's military is in any way lesser than any military from a prior generation. Now that is the ultimate mark of an armchair amateur who probably couldn't hack it through forming week on Paris Island.
"Today's military, especially the Marines, is smarter, harder, and more disciplined than ever. We kill more and die less--that is a fact; and when we're wounded there might be a female surgeon in fatigues saving our life. And there are some corporals with master's degrees out there serving in the infantry. They are up against some of the most dynamic battlefield conditions that require more training and knowledge than ever before.
"This is not like one of the scenes from Battle of the Bulge where a Colonel tells some Private to keep his head down. This is the NCO's war. So to all the old geezers and ignorant fools who find it easy to sit on their couch and say that my Marine Corps has been getting soft, I have to say they're just wishing they were good enough themselves."
--BBK 

 "I have known some pretty tough ladies over the years. One NCO, shot in the leg by a young private on the range when he let off an ND with his rifle, still had the grit to beat the shit out of him before they carted her off to the hospital. One of my ancestors was a crack shot with a rifle in Kentucky in the 1700s. She was a Whitley. Asked by a Shawnee warrior why her husband let her have a weapon (in a very condescending way), she replied “So I can kill you bastards when you raid my farm.” The Shawnee stayed away from her farm. Rumor has it that she even beat Daniel Boone at a turkey shoot. My Great grandma was an Irish girl who never considered herself properly dressed unless she was packing a Peacemaker, and she was a very good shot. And in 2006, we had a young lady at the PRT who could handle a MK-19 like Yo Yo Ma handles a cello. She was a local legend to our Afghan troops. Skill, determination, and courage are not limited by gender, and I know a lot of males I would not want on the line with me. Politics must never dictate watering down standards in order go get the “minority du jour” a place of preferment. But neither should we deny ourselves the services of ass kicking warriors who happen to be women."
--RP

And you know what?  War is war and those we have fought this century have been brutal.  For the women who served as well as the men:

"During the war I was equal at last, and often it was too much to bear.  I ate breakfast like a woman with a wired jaw, so much did I dread having to go out there and face it all.  There are stories I could tell but so very much has already been said, and none of it ever made any difference at all."
--Gloria E.

 "The war was the pivotal event of my life. Yet I never mention my days on helicopter assaults, my fear of getting shot in the face, for the same reason most marines kept quiet. Nobody wants to hear about it, and even if they did, they wouldn’t understand."
--Diane F. 

"Wars don't end. Every bullet leaves an exit wound. Lives stop, dreams collapse, futures implode."
--Lara P. 

 


An old cartoon.










Me, Myself and I









 

Thursday, September 9, 2021

Death and Survival

A flight of six F4F-4s.
I recently  got to take a look at my grandfather's flight log book from when he was a naval aviator during World War II.  I had known something of his life in those days from a memoir he started and made some entries in, but mostly left blank.  I've  quoted from that about his first air combats in 1942.
Deck crew unfolds F4F-4's wings.
But I did not know that later in that same year he was shot down, forced to parachute into the sea and was declared missing in action and his family notified but was rescued more than a month later.
An F4F-4 is waved into position for launch.
I had no idea about any of this and can't recall it ever being mentioned. It was just a part of his life that happened when he was a young man and it was nothing that would come up in conversation.  In any case, he wasn't much of a talker. 
One thing that struck me when I was looking into this episode is how tired he must have been the day he was shot down.  He flew six hours, six combat hours that day, guarding the carriers and transports. Three carrier launches and two carrier recoveries. 
Pilots man your planes!  An F4F-4 being scrambled.
The first launch was at 6 am, a combat patrol over his carrier, just at dawn.  So he had to have been up some considerable time before that, probably since 4 am to allow time enough to get dressed, have breakfast, meet in the ready room and get briefed, then the usual  hurry up and wait.
Then another combat patrol shortly after 10 am over the transport screen.  Some four hours flying just in the morning, with all the tension of watching and waiting for an enemy attack.  He was the flight leader each time, being the senior officer, a  Lt. (jg). 
Then on the final combat patrol, launched shortly after 1pm, leading five others, he encountered 33 enemy aircraft -- 15 bombers escorted by 18 fighters.  Outnumbered five-and-a-half to one, yet there was no choice but to fight.  Three of the fighters attacked the G4M bombers while the remaining three, including my grandfather, went after the escorting Zeros to try to keep them away from the three F4Fs going after the bombers
The life raft compartment behind the F4F-4 cockpit, and the life raft.
The three fighters that attacked the bombers all survived, although one landed badly shot up and another had to make an emergency landing on another carrier.  The third one didn't have any damage at all.
All three of the fighters that engaged the Zeros were shot down and their pilots declared missing and presumed dead.  Two are still missing, their fates unknown. 
The Navy credits my grandfather with shooting down two Zeros before going down
The F4F-4's uninflated life raft and its storage bay.
himself.  Another pilot shot down a Zero as well before he, too, was shot down. 
I had imagined that my grandfather, after being shot down, floated around in his life raft until he was rescued.  But that wasn't what happened.  Twenty-millimeter cannon shells struck the life raft compartment behind the cockpit of his F4F and the life raft was ripped out, inflating as it did so. But it clung flapping in the slipstream to the outside of the airplane, tethered to it by a line such as you can see in the photo above, seriously affecting control of the plane.  Other cannon shells ripped into one of the wing fuel tanks, setting it on fire.
A Zero in the gunsight of an F4F-4.
My grandfather bailed out at 3,000 feet.  He didn't open his parachute until he was very close to the water for fear of being machine-gunned by the many Zeros circling around.  As a result, when he hit the water, he injured his spine. 
To make matters worse, as he was struggling back to the surface and trying to get clear of his parachute shrouds, a Zero crashed into the water almost on top of him. He was knocked underwater by the wave surge of the impact and surfaced into a sea of flaming gasoline.
Pilot's ready room. A little tense.

He wrestled out of his parachute harness and swam away from the wreckage of the Zero, only to have two Zeros strafe him, possibly expending the last of their ammunition as they only made one pass and kept on going.
Mitsubishi G4M  bomber going down.
 And then he was alone.  For days he treaded water in the vast sea.  Immersed in water though he was, he developed a raging thirst. He tried to drink sea water and vomited. He hallucinated.  Bizarre waking dreams that made him unable to distinguish the real from the unreal.  At some point, he washed up on a coral reef off a small island and the surf pounding him onto its sharp projections brought him to his senses.  He waded and swam to the island beach where he slept in the warm sand.  When he awoke, he found lots and lots of coconuts lying around but he couldn't get them open.  He built a fire using a jury-made bow and stick against tinder on a flat piece of wood, then burned the coconuts until the shells became thin enough that he could crack them open and finally slake his thirst and get some food in him.  He lived thereafter on coconuts and coconut crabs.  For the first day or two he only made a small fire and put it out and covered the remains after he had eaten, fearful of Japanese patrols.  But there were no Japanese, nor anyone else on the island.  He made an "SOS" out of driftwood on the beach, kept a smokey signal fire going, ate, slept and stared out to sea and up at the sky.
He was reported missing and his family notified. The dreaded telegram. Missing, presumed dead.  And then, 37 days after he was shot down, he was reported safe.  A passing flight of American bombers spotted his fire and signal and a PBY flew out and picked him up and within minutes he went from chewing on a crab claw to drinking strong Navy coffee and eating Vienna sausages and soda crackers. Three days later he was flown from Tulagi island to Espirito Santos island, a long flight in another PBY, which is noted in his log book.  After 10 days in the hospital there, he was returned to his ship.
In his log book he notes this PBY flight down on the August page.  There is no September page.  The next page is October, when he resumes normal flight activities with his fighter squadron.  So, to be clear, he was shot down on August 7, rescued and reported safe on September 15, as noted in his log book, flown to Espirito Santos on September 18 ('though at first glance it would seem August 18) with flight time noted in his logbook, then returned to his ship on September 28.
 As a summary, on the day my grandfather was shot down, a total of 18 F4F-4s battled attacking Japanese aircraft formations.  Nine were shot down and four pilots killed, two planes made it back to their carrier but were so badly damaged they were pushed over the side, and four others suffered battle damage.
In exchange, four Japanese bombers were shot out of the sky, one crashed on the return flight home and one made it back to base but crashed while trying to land.  Another 19 bombers suffered battle damage.  Three Zeros were shot down, five made forced landings on the way home, one crashing as it attempted to land, one made it home but crashed on landing, and 10 more suffered battle damage.  The Japanese bombers did not score even one hit on our ships.
It seems, in terms of destroyed aircraft, that the two sides came out even that day. But there were dozens and dozens of Japanese fighters and bombers and just 18 young American pilots, never more than six together, who had to drive them away from our ships.  In that they succeeded, despite the high cost to themselves.
And my grandfather survived, so I am here! 
I write that rather flippantly.  But the truth is that it was a near thing for me to come into existence.  Three young men went into combat against many times their number of enemy fighters and two of them were killed.  The one that led to me survived, just barely.  But who would have been born had those other two men lived?  Why were they not born and I was? There's a whole finger-fan of people born because my grandfather lived, and...nothing...because the two men who went into combat with him against the Zero fighters did not.

(Regarding the flight log, the letter "K" in the column, "Character of Flight," stands for "Tactical"; that is, an operational combat flight.  The number written in the "Passengers" column was the radio frequency the flight used. The ARA/ATA radio the F4F was equipped with operated voice communications on 1.5 to 3.0 MHz so "188 channel" would be 1.88 MHz.)

 

 

Monday, September 6, 2021

Cozy gloom

A Saturday night get-together that is not so exuberant.  Fall is in the air, the high was only 53 today, with the sun giving little warmth after the morning mist and overcast drifted away.  There's a fire in the fireplace and only one lamp burning.  No one wants to acknowledge, let alone talk about, anything outside this room and this moment.

We play some old slow tunes and dance.  Won't you join us?


 

Saturday, September 4, 2021

Not me!


 I was browsing some website that hosts a variety of fringe stuff -- a lot of it is interesting to me as much for the way it reveals how people think and what they want to believe as for anything else.  Somebody leaned over my shoulder and browsed along with me for a few minutes before asking me if I was a white nationalist.  Hah!  As if! Those characters would drop-kick my butt out of their treehouse in a heartbeat.

But considering the way whites, especially white men, are savaged by society today, I can't help feeling sympathy for them.  But whenever I try to do so, I am viciously attacked and driven away.  Why?  Because they absolutely hate women, especially white women.  Oriental women are okay by them, but not white women.  

I know, crazy, right?  But there it is.  Where do these guys think white men come from anyway?  Apparently they believe they just materialize out of the ether or reproduce asexually, like some kind of human amoebas.

One time Mark Twain was asked to give a talk on the theme, "What would men be without women?"  He gave a very short speech. Rising from his seat and striding to the speaker's podium, he surveyed his all-male audience.  "What would men be without women, you want to know," he said.  "Scarce, sirs, almighty scarce."  And then he went back to his seat and sat down.

White nationalists should inject the word "white" into Twain's first sentence and think  hard and long about the implications of what he said.  If you boys want to perpetuate the white race, you really should stop reviling white women.

I don't hold out much expectation of that happening.  The movement, such as it appears to be, seems made up of incels, hen-pecked weaklings, bitter divorced men, and assorted dweebs, dorks and nerds, as well as, of course, lots and lots of your standard woman haters.

It's kind of too bad, because I sense a lot of sympathy for the average white, man or woman, these days despite of, or more likely because of, the intense institutional and societal hatred directed at them.  A lot of that sympathy comes from non-whites with white friends and spouses, as well as those who just wish all this stupid race-baiting would go away.  They suspect it's some kind artificial distraction created for no good ends by the powers that be. 

Not being conspiracy-minded myself, I suspect it may be merely a crazy political fad, such as all those pre-school child-molesting scandals that erupted in the 1980s, like the McMartin PreSchool phony trial and all of that.  Insane stuff just blows up in society from time to time.  File it under the madness of crowds.  However, who knows for sure? 

But in the meantime, I dedicate this little video to all you white-women-hating white nationalists.  Suck on it!

 


Wednesday, September 1, 2021

No man left behind

I was visiting the Japanese lady I wrote about here just recently when the talked turned to the situation in Afghanistan.   She had some of her Japanese friends over, as well as her Chinese friend, and to a person they were appalled by what was happening, as who isn't, I guess.

But their take on it struck me as very interesting.  What shocked them was that Americans were left behind as we retreated.

What about the American ideal of "No man left behind"? they asked.  How could you betray that?  And to my surprise, they referenced the movies Saving Private Ryan, Blackhawk Down and, especially, Bat 21.

It never would have occurred to me in a million years that these old Oriental ladies, none younger than her early 70s, would have ever even seen such movies as these, let alone remember them and relate them to contemporary world events.  But they did.  While making passing references to the first two movies, it was Bat 21 that they really talked about.  I remember watching it on TV with my dad and brothers when I was a kid and my dad saying it was a good movie. The movie, as I recalled it, was gripping but routine -- a guy trapped behind enemy lines and the efforts made to rescue him.

But to these ladies who grew up in an East Asian culture with an entirely different attitude toward the individual in society, these were revolutionary films and Bat 21, I guess because of its focus on one individual, had made a special and lasting impression.  The Japanese women recalled the Pacific War and how the Japanese military had abandoned hundreds of thousands of Japanese troops, leaving them to starve to death, making no effort to rescue them, just turning away and leaving them to their fate, while the American military would spare no effort to rescue just one single person.  They marveled at that, and admired it.  Such a country that cared so much for the lives of each one of its citizens was extraordinary.


I knew during the Pacific War we as a matter of course rescued downed airmen, flying in search of them with sea planes and float planes.  My own grandfather was rescued by a PBY after he was shot down at sea during the Guadalcanal campaign.  But the Japanese made no effort to rescue a Japanese airman shot down at sea and surviving.  He was expected to die, one way or the other, for the Emperor.

So these women had expected the US military to do whatever it took, no matter the cost, to get every single American out of Afghanistan.  It did not occur to them that they would simply be abandoned.  Not by America!  So they were shocked, appalled, disbelieving, by what took place.  And then disgusted and angry.  Where were the US Marines?

Well, the Iwo Jima was offshore with elements of the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit, along with the Ronald Reagan, but the jarheads stayed aboard.  No rescue ordered.

I sensed that these old ladies, each of whom had emigrated to this country from her native land because they saw it as clearly better, not in material things -- after all, Japan and China are at least as advanced in material things as the United States -- but in moral stature, in possessing a superior civilization.

Watching those old movies had first made them aware that there was a country where the life of the individual person was truly important  and would be protected even at great cost to the nation.  They believed this was a fundamental part of what America was.  No man left behind.  To us, it's just a slogan, maybe mere boiler plate.  But to them it was a revolutionary assertion defying the great lords of the earth who trampled on "the masses" at will.

And now they saw all that they believed America to be betrayed.  They could not believe it.  And they were shaken.  Was America becoming just another despotic regime?  Why?  What happened?  They looked to me for answers.

I had none.



Monday, August 30, 2021

High School Daze


 I was digging through a bunch of old junk the other day and found my high school senior year book.  I lost an afternoon poring over that thing, remembering all kinds of stuff....  Where did the time go? Why is nothing the way I expected it would be? Oh, blah, huh? What-ev!
Anyways, one thing that gave me a smile and sometimes a laugh--sometimes a sigh, too, as suddenly I remembered something long forgotten--was all the goofy quotes and sayings that people wrote when they signed their names.
Here are some of them:


You're daddy's little girl! But not the girl that daddy knew--daddy never had a clue!


X-tReMe Is NoT a MoOd, It'S a LYFE-STYLE!!!!!!
 

Money and looks aren't everything -- but they're all I've got!

Born with no soul
Lack of control
Cut from the mold
Of the anti-social!


tHeRe WeRe MoMeNTs We LauGHeD-n-CRiED
We aLWaYz STooD By eaCH oTHaZ SiDe
THoSe MaNY DaYs We sPeNT ToGeTHa
THeY WiLL STaY iN mY<3 4eva


There's a reason why people don't stay who they are--sometimes love just ain't enough

Some may call it XtC
Some may call it destiny
Some may call it meant 2B
But I Just call it u-n-me


Imagine a life without me -- miserable, huh?

Do u believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?

Anyone can catch your eye but it takes someone special to catch your heart

Don't wish upon a star--reach for one!

I see you next to never,
how can we say forever?

Wherever you go,
whatever you do,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes,
or how my heart breaks,
I will be right here waiting for you.


God made Coke, God made Pepsi
God made you so hot N sexy!


I smile b-cuz I have no idea what is going on!

I taught you everything you know--but not everything I KNOW!

You're not weird, you're gifted! Just keep saying that!

Keep the pictures, they never change, only the people in them do

WiLl I eVeR fAlL iN luV aNd If I dO wILL iT bE wItH u??

Mystify people with your intelligence, and if u can't do that, mystify them with your BS!!!

Once Upon a Time
Something Happened To me
It was the Sweetest Thing
That ever could be
It was a Fantasy
A dream Come True
It was the Day I Met You


When me and you met the angels whispered "Run for your lives!"

Don't tell me how to pick my friends, I'm good at that -- remember, I picked you.

If you don't Stand for Something, You will Fall for Everything

Love can sometimes be magic, but magic is an ILLUSION!

I wrote your name on a paper but by an accident I threw it away
I wrote your name on my hand but i washed it the next day
I wrote your name in the sand but the waves washed it away
I wrote your name in my heart and forever it will stay


SMILE! It scares people.

Friends don't let friends dress like hoochies!

If you don't know where ur going, any road will take u there.

Where is the good in Good-Bye?

Be Sexy...Be True...Be Wild...Be You

It's ok to live on the edge, just don't fall off!

It's easier to say hello to the people we hate
then to say goodbye to the people we love


As you climb the ladder of success
Don't let boys look up your dress!


People say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.
Make it worth watching!


Meeting you was fate.
Becoming your friend was a choice.
But falling in love I had no control over.


The reason I cant think straight is cuz my bra is too tight!

Don't keep looking back. If you do, you'll trip over the present and fall into the future.


Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Life is short
So PARTY we must!!


Live free, die proud
Have fun, play loud!


Silly blonde,
Brains are for brunettes
!

Read a book,
Pluck a guitar,
Run away,
Don't get hit by a car!


Life is too short so kiss slowly, forgive quickly,
forget the past, but remember what it taught you.


Here we go ahead with the mixed memories and second thoughts.

Peer pressure...it's what friends are for!

In the sundae of your life I'm the perfect cherry on top!

If I could be anything I would be your tear so I could be born in your eye, live down your cheek and die on your lips

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened

 


 

Sunday, August 29, 2021

Be cheerful and merry

What's happening in the outside world is just too grim these days. Heartbreaking.  I have someone very close to me flying missions off the Ronald Reagan and patrolling the skies over Kabul and maybe doing other stuff not bandied about.  That's a six-hour run up and back, plus loiter time, with at least three mid-air refuelings, two of them at night, then a night carrier trap. 

I know Marines deployed.  I have Marine friends who served multiple combat tours in the 'stan and who are, seeing what is happening, furious.

Anyway, another Saturday night and another gathering of close friends, to snack and chat and listen to some tunes and dance.  A lot of the guys don't like to dance, and some physically can't anymore.  But they love to watch a girl dance.  It takes their mind off of things and cheers them up. Gets something up anyway.

So, for my  boys, here's a little dance video to remind you of the fun we have. You really don't want me to try peach schnapps for the first time  and decide it really tastes good and yes, please, I'll have some more.  It goes right to my head and disables all higher cognitive functions.  Heh.

Or maybe you do want me drink it down!  ◦°˚\(*❛‿❛)/˚°◦  ( •◡ુ•)

Look, I know it's frivolous, but sometimes you just have to turn away from what's happening, otherwise it just overwhelms you. 

"A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance:
but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken."
--Proverbs 15:13

"Be cheerful while you are alive."
--Ptahhotpe, recorded in the Prisse Papyrus, c. 2350 b.c.

 






Dark Thoughts


“Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on
And turns no more his head
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.”


― Samuel Taylor Coleridge,

Saturday, August 28, 2021

Don't you want to be 19 again?

 "I've grown up and I don't like it."

A story about an unforgettable memory from July 30, 1939, about the pull of the past, lost youth, a wish to fix the mistakes of your life and refusal to recognize the disappointing present: 

 Come  Back With Me, first broadcast July 2, 1975.

 



 



Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Western Pioneers

 

 Come give me your attention and see the right and wrong,
It is a simple story and it won't detain you long;
I'll try to tell the reason why we are bound to roam,
And why we are so friendless and never have a home.
My home is in the saddle, upon a pony's back,
I am a roving cowboy and find the hostile track;
They say I am a sure shot, and danger I always knew;
Now I often heard a story, which I'll relate to you.
In Eighteen-hundred and Sixty-three a little emigrant band
Was massacred by Indians, bound West by overland;
They scalped our noble soldiers, and the emigrants had to die,
And the only living captives were two small girls and I.
We were rescued from the Indians by a brave and noble man,
Who trailed the thieving Indians and fought them hand to hand;
He was noted for his bravery while on an enemy's track;
He had a noble history, his name is Texas Jack.
Old Jack could tell a story, if he were only here.
Of the trouble and the hardships of the Western pioneer;
He would tell you how our fathers and mothers lost their lives,
And how our aged parents were scalped before our eyes.
I am a roving cowboy, I've worked upon the trail,
I've shot the shaggy buffalo and heard the coyote's wail;
I have slept upon my saddle, all covered by the moon;
I expect to keep it up my friends, until I meet my doom.
I am a roving cowboy, my saddle is my home,
I'll always be a cowboy, no difference where I roam;
And like our noble heroes my help I'll volunteer,
And try to be of service to the Western pioneer.

  ~ Ezra Barheight, who lived it as it happened