The Empty Chair

Not just a rhetorical device.

SEN. GRAHAM: Mr. Secretary, you didn’t know how long the attack would last. Did you ever call him and say, Mr. President, it looks like we don’t have anything to get there anytime soon?

SEC. PANETTA: The event was over before we could move any assets.

SEN. GRAHAM: It lasted almost eight hours. And my question to you is during that eight-hour period, did the president show any curiosity about how’s this going, what kind of assets do you have helping these people? Did he ever make that phone call?

SEC. PANETTA: Look, there is no question in my mind that the president of the United States was concerned about American lives and, frankly, all of us were concerned about American lives.

SEN. GRAHAM: With all due respect, I don’t believe that’s a credible statement if he never called and asked you, are we helping these people; what’s happening to them? We have a second round, and we’ll take it up then.

Obama needs to be impeached, both for Benghazi and for the Fast and Furious debacle.

Ahem....

!!!!!

Slept in

A week full of going to bed way too late, and waking up way too early, has left me someone run-down.  So when I didn't have to set my alarm today, I took full advantage of that and just slept.  The Ragin' Mrs. left me alone and let me recoup some of what I'd lost.

I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty darn good right now.

Gene Pool Cleansing

 

Sent to me by a friend.

There's something in the air

Maybe it's smog.  Maybe it's dust and dirt.  I don't know.  But driving to where I had to go today, the air was brown, my eyes were itching and my nose kept running.  It's frigging nasty. 

Blah.  Los Angeles.  City of Shitty Air.

Had a chance to visit the local ER last night

The Ragin' Mrs. had a mishap - nothing serious, but painful enough to require a doctor to look at it, and she's got a high pain tolerance so when she's telling me that things hurt, it's most likely out of my first-aid capabilities.

Observation one:  The ER waiting room was packed, and maybe 50% of those folks spoke any English at all.  The native English speakers constituted about 10% of the waiting room.

Observation two:  It was Monday night, and the place was packed.  The staff said that it had been like that since the New Year.  What changed that would make ER traffic pick up and stay up?

Observation three:  There were enough sick kids in that place to make me come home, slather myself in sanitizing gel and pour Airborne down my throat.  Ugh.  Snot and phlegm everywhere.

Observation four:  I don't know if this is apropos of anything but the huge amount of people in the ER were Latino, and one thing we did notice was an abundance of fathers actually being fathers.  Very few single women in there with their kids alone.  If a child was there, most likely their dad was too.  That was good to see.

Observation five:  Four hours of sleep doesn't do Dave very well at all these days.

Meanwhile, in the gun-free paradise of Chicago

Murder rates are worse than in the days of Al Capone's gangland Chicago.

Remember, gun control isn't about guns.  It's about control.

I don't like stealing

But Ann Barnhardt doesn't do permalinks.  So I'm taking her post whole and putting it here unedited, because I think it's that damn cool.

Meet St. Martin of Tours. He was a fourth century Roman soldier, and like many, many Roman soldiers was also a convert to Christianity. While he was yet being instructed in the Faith and before his baptism, Martin encountered a homeless man begging in the cold. The beggar was barely clothed in just a few rags. Martin, moved with compassion and pity for the man drew his sword, also known as an ASSAULT WEAPON, and cut his own cape in half, and gave half to the freezing beggar. 

**I know this story seems completely unbelievable because everyone knows that people who carry and wield ASSAULT WEAPONS are incapable of anything like COMPASSION or CHARITY, but you'll just have to suspend your disbelief on this one.** 

That night, Martin had a dream in which he saw Our Lord wearing the half of his cloak that he had shared with the beggar. In his dream, Our Lord said to the angels, "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clad Me." 

Martin was received into the Church and went on to be a manful bishop who fought the heresy of Arianism. 

St. Martin's cloak was kept as a relic and was carried into battle by the French Army. The French would set up a special tent on field of battle to house St. Martin's cloak. The word for cloak in Latin is "cappa". The priests who took care of the cloak were thus referred to as the "cappellani". Eventually, all priests charged with the care of soldiers were called "cappellani". The Latin word "cappellani" became "chapelains" in French, which eventually became "chaplains" in English. 

How 'bout them apples? 

St. Martin is one of the Patron Saints of Soldiers, as well as the Patron Saint of the US Army Quartermaster Corps, of which I used to belong two MOS ago.

Plenty to write about

But I just don't give a darn today.  Life is like that sometimes.

Long Day on the Road

Yay.

Ragin' Dave's Quote of the Day, Military Edition

A helicopter is a collection of rotating parts going round and round and reciprocating parts going up and down - all of them trying to become random in motion. Helicopters can't really fly - they're just so ugly that the earth immediately repels them.

From an email I received at work today.

In lieu of actual content

!!!!!

Bloggus Interuptus

Sorry folks, but work is slamming right now.  Maybe Wednesday?

Soldiers love animals

No, it's true.  You get a group of Soldiers together in some far-away land, and I guarantee that before long they're going to have some sort of "mascot" tagging along with them.  Dogs, cats, anything.  A Soldier I used to work with actually had a pet camel spider.  And the Polish Army in 1942 had a bear.  (Found the link at Ace's).

Several years ago, I was in training at Ft. Jackson, back when we still wore that damn beret instead of an actual hat.  Every enlisted Soldier's beret had their DUI on it (Distinctive Unit Insignia).  It's a little bit of Army heraldry, which is still alive and kicking in the military.  Some of them are classical heraldry, and some of them....  not so much.  But the one that made me look more than twice was one Soldier who's DUI was quite literally a white dog with black spots, standing over a banner that read "Don't Kick My Dog".  The troop told me (and this is all second-hand knowledge, don't quote me on anything) that way back in the unit's history, they were fighting the Krauts in WWI, and the unit was getting it's butt kicked.  And I mean, kicked, stomped, and just about dead, until the Joes in the unit saw one of the Germans kick the unit mascot, an old hound dog they'd brought with them.  The sight of their mascot being abused by the enemy pissed them off so much that they counter-assaulted, pushed the Germans out and ran them back to their trenches, screaming "DON'T KICK MY DOG!" all the way there.

And a unit motto was born.

Soldiers like animals.  Maybe we just like having some companionship that enjoys being around a bunch of stinky, dirty dog-faced troops and doesn't demand anything more than a scratch on the head.  Maybe we enjoy having something to share the Suck with.  Maybe we just like it when something is happy to see us return.  But sure as shooting, you find a group of Soldiers, you're going to find some four legged friends there with them.

The Power Of A Dog

For Sondra.

The Power of the Dog
by
Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear? 

I stole the idea from Og.  It seems fitting.

Meh?

Sleeping.  Maybe blog later.

Dear Smokers

If you voted for Romney, then I'm very sorry that you'll have to now deal with Obamacare and it's ever-expanding costs.

If you're a smoker who voted for Obama, then FUCK YOU and PAY UP, BITCHES! 

Raining

No running for me this morning.

Oh, it's not the rain that keeps me indoors.  It's the fact that I'm in the middle of an urban area where the drivers may or may not have a clue as to how to drive in the first place (guess which side I'm taking on that!), and the sound of tires sliding on wet pavement going on outside my door makes me NOT want to go jogging when some texting dipshit decides to leave his hands off the wheel long enough to hop out of the road and turn the sidewalk I'm running on into a bumper-cars pavilion.

Rain doesn't scare me.  Getting smooshed while Pedro the texting jackass sends out his 100th "LOL!!!11!" of the day would really, REALLY put a crimp into my plans for the weekend.

Dave Want

New stock for the Mosin-Nagant.

DAVE WANT!

Of course, it costs more than the rifle cost me originally, but still.....

Women in Combat?

I was at work when I heard this load of crap:

Defense Secretary Leon Panetta is ending the military’s ban on women serving in combat.

The move could open up more than 230,000 jobs that had been previously closed to women by overturning a 1994 ban on female servicemembers in small combat units.

This pretty much confirms that Leon Panetta is nothing more than a Leftist douche-tool who's main goal has been to allow the beginning of the destruction of the military.

Here's an idea!  Open up every single job in the military to women, but do away with the female standards for the Army Physical Fitness Test.  See how that flies, eh?

Look, men and women are different physically, alright?  There's no denying it.  When I did my short tour in Afghanistan, I wore a total of 62 pounds of gear, weapon and ammo.  And I had one of the lightest loads by far.  Most Infantry carry 100+ pounds of gear and ammo.  It is not uncommon for folks in the combat arms to carry 130 to 150 pounds of gear, ammo and weapons systems.  Do you really think the average woman is going to be able to do that?  Without seriously degrading the combat effectiveness of the unit?

Hell, I saw it in action when I was an MP.  "Dave, you need to carry the gun.  PVT Female can't carry it.  Dave, you need to load the fuel and water.  PVT Female can't carry the weight.  Dave, you need to get the ammo to the truck.  PVT Female can't carry the weight."

I have seen what the military is going to, and IT DOES NOT WORK!!!!!!

DOES!  NOT!  WORK!

I really can't wait until I can retire.