I’m a big softie myself.  I’m not a tough guy, or even an especially brave one.  Like the man said, I’m not a hero, but I’ve served in the company of heroes.  I’ve known some really hard people in my life: Navy Seals and Green Berets who were going through language training and enjoyed showing privates how to do evil things with piano wire and 550 cord, Finnish truck drivers who regularly drive from Helsinki to Kazakhstan and back with two quarts of vodka and a big pipe under the driver’s seat, World War II Marine veterans who told me what it was like to assault an island from an open air boat, and the list goes on and on.

But I’ve never heard of anyone like Hideaki Akaiwa.  This guy, after surviving the tsunami in Japan, goes into the waters not once, not twice, but every single day since then looking for survivors.  He’s not military, nor is he a policeman or fireman.  He’s just a normal guy who found courage within himself at a crucial moment and did something outstanding.  The world needs more people like this.

Mal Hombre!

I just watched “The Lion King” with Boo.  He’s absolutely fascinated by the sequence where the main characters eat bugs and worms, which does not bode well for this summer.

Anyway, it occurred to me that Simba was a long haired emo kid until Rafiki dope slapped him and knocked some sense into him.  Just goes to show that a little dopeslap every now and then is good for you.

Sorry this is a bit late.  Enjoy!

After knowing my mom, I’m surprised my dad didn’t roam the country killing hookers with a spoon.

Christopher Titus

We all want to help out when a friend has a tragedy in their lives.  Maybe we take over a meal to a grieving family, or we offer to sit with someone in the hospital so the caretakers can have a break.  Sometimes we just go to the grocery store for staples when we know a family is running short on money and their cupboards are getting a little bare, or we do some yard work for the elderly lady who’s lost her husband.

One of our closest allies is struggling to provide for their people, and a lot of good NGO’s are helping out.  I’m putting a link to this page, which makes it easier to make donations to reputable charities that are assisting the Japanese people, on my sidebar for the foreseeable future. 

Our family is keeping the Japanese people in our prayers every night, and if you’re the praying sort, please consider sending a couple up for them as well.

“Common Sense Gun Laws” is a term that’s used by the anti-gun groups to describe their latest attempt to curtail our right to keep and bear arms.  Usually, they’re some permutation of “I don’t like it, so you can’t do it”.  Not very common sense to me.

This morning, I got an alert from the NRA that shows the Commonwealth of Kentucky does indeed have some common sense:

Today, Governor Steve Beshear signed into law two pro-gun bills. House Bill 308, with an NRA-supported amendment, will provide a pathway to restoring gun rights.  House Bill 313 will allow for concealed carry in a vehicle’s installed compartment. 

Bill 308 provides a method by which someone who’s lost their right to arms can get them back by applying to the courts for an exception.  Like Alan over at Snarky Bytes says, if they’re safe enough to be out roaming the streets, they’re safe enough to be able to own a gun.

Bill 313 allows me to put a gun in the Irish Woman’s car without having to put it in the glove compartment, which is impossible because the glove compartment is too small to put a pair of gloves in, much less a 1911.

Next time someone wants to talk to you about “common sense” gun regulations, point them this way. 

Funny thing is, these bills didn’t get any play in the local news, and Beshear is a relatively middle of the road Democrat.  Both facts may lead me to believe that, at least here in Kentucky, guns, even guns owned by ex-cons or kept in the console of a minivan, aren’t that big a deal.

This is the day where all of the people of Irish descent, people who are married to people of Irish descent, people who have heard of Ireland, and just plain alcoholics put on their green “Kiss me I’m Irish!” tee shirt, and bend a few elbows in salute to the great Irish tradition of mixing politics, religion, and alcohol.  Since I live in Kentucky, I can tell you that these traditions run strong through the American spirit.

I’m of a pretty mixed mixed ethnic heritage, but have more than a few drops of Irish blood in me.  As a kid, I found it interesting to learn about the national holidays of my ancestors:

Irish – March 17 – St. Patrick’s Day – A day to look back at an island nation that most of our ancestors couldn’t wait to leave.  A religious holiday in Ireland, but Americans make up for that by debauching themselves in ways that would make Sodom and Gemorrah blush.  Seriously, the Brazilians during Carnival have nothing on a a bunch of “Irishmen” in Boston or Chicago.
 
Norwegian – July 29 – St. Olaf’s Day – Celebrated with a hearty meal of pickled beets, pickled onions, pickled fish, and potatoes.  Quietly wash all of this down with about half a bottle of Akavit and a few cans of PBR, then stare morosely at the great plains out your back door, which still seem cold in late July.

German – Late September – Oktoberfest – A rollicking good time to taste all the beers of the world, eat wonderful sausages and roast chicken, fling heavy glass beer mugs at strangers during a brawl, and remember the good old days when invading Poland and France was the national pastime.

French Canadian – June 24 – National Holiday of Quebec – A great day to drink a little wine, make a few political speeches about an occupation that’s been happening since the 1760’s, and in general get mad because your country has the audacity to allow English to be spoken.

Scottish – December 31 – Hogmanay – While the rest of the world celebrates the year that’s passing and the year yet to come, the Scots are cleaning out their houses, singing Robert Burns songs badly, drinking the sludge from the bottom of the whiskey barrel, and lighting their torches.  On the other hand, those last two might just be what you do for fun on a Saturday night in Glasgow.

In all seriousness, I feel more than a little blessed that my ancestors, no matter where they came from, had the courage to decide that the place where their ancestors had lived for centuries wasn’t good enough.  It takes real guts to get on a boat with what little you can carry and head off to another continent where few speak your language and you have no promise of prosperity.

So when you’re drowning the shamrock this evening, remember that our immigrant ancestors gave up a lot to come here and make a better life for themselves and their descendents. 

Slainte!

For the sake of the diversity committee, I would like to point out that Captain Donna Buono is a woman, and a helicopter pilot, so the US Army is doing it’s best to ensure that women get their chance to grind the Taliban to dust and hammer the ashes into oblivion.  Never let it be said that Deebow is not in support of hot Army chicks of any color using state of the art ordnance to poophammer the beJesus out of those that would keep their fine forms in a burkha…  You go Captain Buono…

Deebow, over at Blackfive, discussing the use of close air support in Afghanistan.

I heartily agree. I love a woman in uniform.  If she can look good in BDU’s, then she’ll melt the sidewalk in a dress.  And a woman who can rain death and destruction from the sky gets extra hawtness points.

At what point did a drug addict or alcoholic stop checking into the hospital to dry out and begin entering a treatment facility for rehab?

When did raising kids become parenting?

When did a teacher become an educator, or a garbageman become a sanitation worker, or public servants become public employees?

When did cop shows, doctor shows, westerns, and sitcoms get overtaken by white trash programming like reality TV and talk shows?

When did tattoos go from being something that Marines get in Singapore to what any 18 year old twit could get at the local strip mall?

When did working hard, saving money, and being responsible go out of fashion?

I don’t have the answers to any of these, but my gut tells me it’s somehow the fault of the hippies.

Today, the last of an extraordinary generation of American patriots was laid to rest near the grave of his commanding general.  Both the President and Vice-President took the time to attend his memorial service at Arlington National Cemetery.

Corporal Frank Buckles and his comrades were the first examples of Americans who went to war to protect and liberate others, not because the country itself had been attacked or was in danger.  They answered the call to fight to make other men free, and they did so with a vigor and conviction that I have never seen in my own life.  They got no G.I. Bill or signing bonuses, or even what we would consider basic medical care in exchange for the best years of their young lives.  They provided the backbone that the Allies had lost over years of trench warfare, and gave the Allies the edge needed to break the stalemate and end the war.

These men came home to build the great factories and cities that rose up in our country in the first half of the 20th century.  They raised their sons and daughters through good times, bad times, and the worst bad time in our nation’s history.  Those who didn’t find a way to re-up in 1941 kept the country running while the greatest conflagration the world has ever seen raged, and provided an arsenal of democracy for the rest of the free world.  They didn’t do these things for glory, and they rarely became rich.  They did it because it was the right thing to do.

Now the last of their number has joined the ranks at Fiddler’s Green, and is probably forming up to pass in review for the Almighty with the rest of a proud and worthy generation.  It is to the generation of our grandfathers and great grandfathers that we say goodbye today.  We will not see their like again.  They were an integral part of our history, and they will be sorely missed.