I saw the USS Enterprise today. It’s kind of sad to see it being disassembled.
If I’m going to do more work with the Navy, I’m going to need to learn a few words in Tagalog.
The Navy is flying the The First Navy Jack on its ships now. I did not know that.
P-3’s are certainly nimble aircraft. I got to watch a couple of them doing touch and go’s and then turning on their wings for a couple of hours.

It’s been a while since I last did this, so here’s a description of the motley crew of characters that inhabit my world.

First and foremost, is my loving and oh-so forgiving wife, the Irish Woman.  She’s mama to my youngest son, and “second-hand mom” to the rest of my brood.  She prefers the title “parental consultant” to “stepmom”, by the way.  She came into our lives when the kids were very young, and I don’t think that they can remember a time without her.  I know I can’t remember many good times before her, that’s for sure.  She is the voice of reason, the loving hand that cares for us, and the choker chain that yanks me back to the straight and narrow when I need it.

Next, we have Little Bear.  I like to say that he is my son by choice, not by chance.  His mother and I became a couple when she was pregnant with him, and I may not have made him, but I have formed him.  He is at that stage where Dad is a goofy annoyance sometimes, but he’s coming around into a pretty strong young man.

Next, we have Girlie Bear, my hunting, shooting, and goofing off buddy and only daughter.  To the detriment of my sanity, she is developing into a beautiful young woman.  She has a lot of the normal teenage girl issues, but I’m proud to say that I have no doubt that she’ll spit in the eye of the first man who tries to hurt her, just before she beats the tar out of him with her bare hands.

Our last son is Boo, who just turned 5.  He is convinced that he wants to be a pirate, and is acting the part already.  He is the apple of his mother’s eye, a constant reminder to me that life should never be boring through constant attacks with light sabres, dart guns, and foam bats.  He is the child of my aging years, and I look forward to him keeping me young for years to come.

In addition to the humans in our family, we have pets.  We have three cats:  Annya, who is neurotic, Koshka, who is psychotic, and Timmy, who doesn’t know he’s a cat.  Add to that our dogs, Bluegrass, Shadow, and Moonshine.  Blue and Shadow are getting on in years, but Moonshine is so new he still squeaks, and he’s keeping them from spending their days napping.  It’s hard to sleep when a six-month old puppy is chewing on your ears.  We also support a menagerie of outdoor critters such as goldfish, squirrels, and an entire flock of sparrows, cardinals, and blue-jays.

Yes, we live right on the very edge of madness, but it’s fun and it works for us.

As for me, I am DaddyBear, the pater familius, head bottle washer, and comic relief of this little tribe.  I’m the one who does the icky stuff, lifts the heavy weights, opens the recalcitrant jars, and gives stern looks across the kitchen table.  I’m also the one who enjoys Dr. Seuss stories as much as Boo, has more fun at the range with Girlie Bear than I do going alone, and wonders where Little Bear got his artistic streak.  I’m socially moderate, fiscally conservative, and unapologetically proud of my family, friends, and nation.  I like to think I have a dry, quirky sense of humor, but I’ll let you all be the judge of that.

So thanks for joining me as I use this space to give vent to the voices in my head, silly jokes, rants, and diatribes.  Beer’s in the fridge and coffee’s on the counter, so help yourself.

Sorry about that guys. I forgot to update my dead man’s post this month. I’m not going anywhere.

When this is what you find in the sole of your boot, you know it’s going to be a good day.

It’s really nice to drive to the preschool with Boo as a door gunner. I don’t know how I would have dealt with all those TIE fighters and zombies without him.

I’m a true product of the American melting pot, but like a lot of Americans, I have an Irishman or two in my woodpile.  I married my beloved Irish Woman, and have been re-introduced to all that comes with it – Irish laughter, Irish whisky, and Irish tempers.

I’ve never gone in for using St. Patrick’s Day as an excuse to get blotto, but I’ve been known to drown a few shamrocks in my day.  Whatever your way of celebrating it, I hope you enjoyed the day!

Me, cheering on Boo as he plays Lego Star Wars as a treat – Uh-oh, you opened the door!  Get those robots!

Boo, pausing the game and looking at me very seriously – Daddy, those are droids, not robots.  Say it with me – d-r-o-i-d-s. drah drah droids.

I’ve never been so proud.

Innocent people in Los Angeles have been shot at by police in California because the police thought they were Christopher Dorner, the man who has killed several people, including police officers, in the past week.  Dorner has posted his grievances with the LAPD on-line, and promises to keep killing policemen and their families until he is stopped.  A massive manhunt is underway and a large reward for his capture has been offered by the city of Los Angeles.

In these incidents, police have shot at people in vehicles that resemble Dorner’s truck, which is now known to have been driven up into the mountains, then abandoned and set on fire.  Police maintain that the officers involved were justified in their actions because of the dangerous nature of the situation.  Apparently being a slender Caucasian or a Hispanic grandmother makes it easy for you to be mixed up with a heavy-set man of African descent.

These police officers have abandoned their roles as enforcers of the law.  Rather, they’ve decided that because some nutjob is making threats against LAPD, they have the power to be judge, jury, and executioner. Know your target and what’s behind it doesn’t come into play if what you’re shooting at doesn’t present a clear and present danger to you or other innocents. Even if Dorner was the person being shot at, if there isn’t a reason to believe that innocent life is in peril, then shooting at him isn’t justified.

Thanks to the policy of qualified immunity, they probably have very little to worry about.  I sincerely doubt that a prosecutor will charge them, and if they are sued for their actions, even if they lose, the taxpayers will pick up the tab.

If the rest of us can’t be justified in preemptively murdering someone who scares us, then neither should the police.  I want this whackjob locked away as much as everyone else, but shooting him on sight, and even worse, shooting anyone that the police think is him, is beyond the pale.