Some stupid, sadistic waste of protoplasm threw a border collie out of a moving car on I-65 in Louisville today.  The poor thing has injuries to it’s hips, pelvis, legs, spine, and a whole lot more. 

Things like this remind me why I’m not a huge fan of humans sometimes. 

What the hell is going through your head that you take a dog, a border collie, one of the most loyal and loving breeds of a species that is noted for being a loving companion, and pitch them out of your car moving at least 55 miles an hour?

When they catch this sack of monkey dung, I hope that he or she is given the same injuries as the dog, but not all at once. First we break the pelvis, then let it heal and rehab.  Then we break the vertebrae, and let that heal and rehab.  Next we break his legs, and let him hobble around for a few months.  Finally we pull a leg out of the hip socket and make the son of a bitch walk home.  All this time, we use a Binford 4000 belt sander to strip off most of the skin on several parts of his body.  Repeatedly.  While sitting him in a fine mist of rubbing alcohol and turpentine.

It was reported last night that a plan to conduct several simultaneous Mumbai style attacks in Europe has been broken up.

In Mumbai, a group of Muslim terrorists were physically conditioned, trained, armed, and let loose in the middle of a large population of relatively unarmed citizens.  Literally, a pack of wolves were loose among the sheep.  Over 200 people were murdered before Indian authorities were able to liquidate the attackers.

London, Paris, or Berlin would be just as bad.  The governments there have effectively disarmed their population, at least partially by assuring their subjects that the police will protect them.  As we learned in Mumbai, even a policeman armed with a high powered rifle isn’t much use when they are cowering behind a cement column when faced with a ‘roided up madman in body armor throwing grenades and spraying 7.62×39 rounds around a train station or shopping mall.

Luckily, this plot appears to have been disrupted, at least for now.  But let’s transplant the scenario to the United States. Let’s say that a group of people decide to simultaneously go on shooting and grenade sprees in Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, and Saint Louis.

The result would be a bloodbath.  Even assuming that our police and security agencies would be able to react quickly to the attacks, we can assume that at least for the first few hours of such an attack, the terrorists could pretty much kill at will. 

There are a few things going in our favor, though.  First, our police are for the most part well trained, well equipped professionals, and all major metropolitan have para-military SWAT forces that are specifically trained to deal with active shooters and hostage situations.  There are cases of both situations several times a year in the United States, and if a police force doesn’t deal with them directly, they at least have access to after action reports that can be used to improve their training.

Second, in large parts of the United States, a not-insignificant portion of the non-police population walks around armed.  Most states allow at least some kind of carry for personal defense.  And even in some metropolitan areas, especially during hunting seasons, it’s not uncommon to find high powered rifles or shotguns in a large number of vehicles.

So in addition to trained police forces, a pretty large percentage of the populace in some cities would not be slaughtered without a fight.  Granted, a person with a 9mm pistol and maybe two magazines of ammunition will be at a significant disadvantage against a group of determined terrorists using explosives and high powered rifles, but it’s better than being rounded up and shot when the police are overwhelmed.

However, in large cities across the country, it’s either completely illegal or legal-but-nigh-unto-impossible to own a firearm, much less carry one around with you.  In high-value target cities such as Washington, New York, Boston, or Chicago one of our strengths in such a wave of attacks have been taken away.  Maybe taken away is the wrong way to put this.  How about “The residents of these cities have, over several decades, given away their rights to effective self defense by electing politicians antagonistic to the concept of a regular citizens owning and carrying firearms”.

So an attack in many of our major metropolitan cities would probably have results close to what happened in Mumbai.  The terrorists would run amuck pretty much unopposed for several hours while para-military and military governmental forces were brought to bear.

My point here is that “When seconds count, the police are only minutes away” is more than a slogan.  If our enemies are planning to do this in Europe, it’s not hard to imagine that someone is planning such an operation in the United States.  As bad as dealing with a mugging or home invasion is, dealing with someone who has no bigger goal than killing as many people as possible before dieing is much worse.  We should remember that while our police are brave, dedicated professionals, they can’t be everywhere.  We are citizens, not subjects.  Citizenship bestows responsibilities along with privileges and rights.  Our safety, and the safety of our families and communities, rests squarely on our shoulders. 

So no kidding, there I was…….

As an intelligence weenie, I was expected to be able to look at little bits of information and figure out what was going on.  My first commander in Germany thought a good way to teach me to do this was to send me and all the newbies out for a few days with various units to see how they work.  I got to spend a few days at an Infantry battalion headquarters, trundling along with a transportation company who was driving from Wildflicken to Grafenwoehr, and a full week with a battery of VII Corps artillery.

Of all of these, my favorites were the arty guys.  The Infantry were well trained and STRAC, but the arty guys were complete animals.  I was introduced to about every personality type in the Army during that week.  One thing the arty guys did was drink, and drink a lot.  They followed Ranger rules about it though.  Each man was paired up with a battle buddy, and only one man in the pair was allowed to drink at a time.  This was of course completely under the radar.  The officers and senior NCO’s either didn’t know or chose not to make a federal case out of it.  The unit was recently returned from Desert Storm, and there was still a lot of boyish hijinks going on.

So after about 4 days of driving around in the beauty of a Bavarian fall, we were moving along a goat trail in a large training area during a night that was made even better with a light drizzle.  I was dozing in the back of a 2 1/2 ton truck with the rest of the gun crew I had been assigned to.  Amazingly enough, the bouncing of the truck in the ruts made it easier to sleep.

All of a sudden, the battery was given a priority fire mission.  This was a test to see how quickly the battery could be set up, calibrated, and get steel on target.  These guys were fast.  Within a few minutes all the guns were laid, the lieutenant had figured out all the appropriate measurements and sent them to the Fire Direction Center, and the gun commander was aiming the gun to respond to a call for fire.  They may have been completely unready for an IG inspection, but these veterans knew their combat mission cold.

The gun commander barked out the type of round to load and the number of bags of propellant to put in the gun.  The specialist I was assisting grabbed an HE round and rammed it into the breech of the gun.  The round stopped halfway in.  Apparently one of the crew had put a fifth of Barcardi rum into the breech for safe keeping during the road trip.  Frantic attempts to remove the bottle were futile.  Shoving that HE round up in the breech had jammed it in good and tight.

As the gun crew hopped around trying to figure out what to do, I heard the other gun commanders preparing to fire.  Within a few moments I heard the battery first sergeant giving the orders:

Gun 1, Fire!  BANG!
Gun 2, Fire!  BANG!
Gun 3, Fire! 
Gun 4, Fire!  BANG

Need I say I was assigned to Gun number 3?

The gun commander was at this time about to have a nervous breakdown.  As he continued his futile attempts to dislodge the booze, we could hear the first sergeant coming down the line, cussing at the top of his lungs about why Gun 3 had not fired.  Apparently an eloquence in profanity marked this senior NCO for greater things.

As the first sergeant approached the gun, the gun commander must have decided to use the most direct approach to getting rid of the rum bottle:  blow it out the end of the gun.  He threw a couple of bags of propellant in the gun, closed the breech, and fired the gun.

BAWOOOOMMM!

Instead of the bang of propellant firing the bottle downrange, the propellant went off, broke the end of the rum bottle, and ignited it as it flew down the breech of the cannon.   When it reached the air at the end of the barrel, it expanded into a blue fireball that lit up the battery like sunrise.

The first sergeant was stunned as he came to the gun.  He made sure the breech was clear and then silently walked to the front of the gun.  Reaching down, he picked up the still hot neck of the rum bottle, looked at it, and put it in the cargo pocket of his pants.  He gave the the gun commander “The Look”, and walked back to his truck.  You probably could have heard a pin drop at that moment, if the pins had had the guts to make a sound.

A few minutes later, we were ordered to displace and continue our trip to the other side of the training area.  As we bounced down that dark and muddy trail, every man in the battery must have been searching the equipment and baggage for contraband, because a steady rain of beer cans, bottles, and jugs went flying off into the weeds.

I finished my rotation with the artillery and returned to my own unit a couple of days later.  The battery was still in the field when I hitched a ride with a supply truck back to main post.  I never found out what happened to that gun commander and his crew, but I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.  Hell hath no wrath like a first sergeant who is not only pissed, but has time to think about it before acting.

Today, I chaperoned and volunteered at a field trip for Girlie Bear’s school.  The local Junior Achievement group has a facility that is used to teach kids about financial responsibility and budgeting, among other things.

Today, a group of 7th graders got a day of learning how to budget.  I was assigned to run the storefront for the local Stop ‘n’ Rob, where 6 students were assigned as workers.  I passed out little cards that had their “identities” on them. This was such things as their age, marital status, number of kids, income, and tax information.  The kids had to take that information, figure out their take home pay, and then figure out the lower and upper limits of what they could afford based on percentages of their net pay for such things as housing, a car, groceries, etc.  They then gathered information from all of the other store fronts about what these things could cost, and then they had to complete a budget based on their income and levels of expected spending on the categories of expenses.

My job was to keep these 6 on task and assist them.  Part of it was checking their math, but mostly it was explaining things such as taxes, health insurance, and what some of the services they had to budget for were.

Examples:

Student:  Sir, what’s a sewer?
Me:  You know when you flush the toilet?
Student:  Nod
Me:  The sewer is where it goes after you flush

Male Student:  Should I buy the 4 bedroom with a monthly payment of $750, or the 2 bedroom for $500?
Me:  Do you have any kids?
Male Student:  No, but I’m married.
Me:  Buy the bigger one.  It’s easier in the long run. 

Student:  What are all these taxes?
Me, in my head:  Well, federal taxes are for the government to pay for things that you don’t want to pay for, Social Security is used to make sure the old, lame, and lazy don’t starve to death, and Medicare is to keep your grandmother alive when she gets sick.
Me, out loud:  Those funds are taken from your paycheck to pay for services, help out the old and sick, and to provide health care to senior citizens.

Anyhoo, it seems to be a great program.  There were a lot of the ‘aha’ moments as the students realized just how much it sucks trying to raise a family on the income you get at a convenience store.  They were all able to make their budgets work, but figured out really quick that making $18K a year isn’t much when you have to pay your own bills.

As a sidenote, a lot of my anxiety about Girlie Bear and boys was laid to rest this afternoon:

DaddyBear:  Sweetie, are all of the boys in your class so…….
Girlie Bear:  Stupid?  Yes dad, they’re all morons.

Some things do a father’s heart good.

Sunday we took BooBoo to Lebanon Kentucky to attend the annual celebration of pork, Ham Days.  Irish Woman was feeling better, so she decided to tag along. 

After a pleasant drive down two lane country roads, we got there at about 11 AM.  The line for the country ham and egg breakfast went around the block, and it was worth it.  Boo and I tucked in and ate like pigs, and Irish Woman nibbled at hers and got a to-go box. 

We then had a walk around to all of the crafts booths.  Since it was about 20 degrees cooler in Lebanon than it was in Louisville, we bought a small quilt for Boo to wrap around himself in the stroller.   There were of course the obligatory University of Kentucky memorabilia vendors. These people are ate up.  One had a “Last Supper” with Adolf Rupp as Jesus and all of the UK basketball greats as the apostles.  And yes, before you ask, Gillespie was Judas.

The pony rides and all that had happened on Saturday, so we just took boo to the midway area and let him ride the carousel and a merry go round a couple of times.  After that, both he and Irish Woman were about done physically, so we made our way back to the car and had a nice leisurely ride home.

On our way back to the car, we passed by the local Church of Christ, which was having an outdoor Sunday service.  Out of respect, I crossed the street so as to not disturb them.  Boo took that opportunity to start melting down.  I leaned over and stage whispered “Stop it Damien“, which caused the older lady who was sitting on a wall listening to the pastor to start laughing so hard I thought she might start speaking in tongues.

Overall, it was a great morning.  I love going to these fall festivals.

No really, I feel a lot of schadenfreude for the peaceful government run industries of Iran which have been hit hard by Stuxnet.

Say it with me children:

1.  Keep your OS, software, and firmware up to date.
2.  Pick vendors who view security as a basic tenet of their work
3.  Minimize the number of devices on your network to the bare minimum you need to do the work.
4.  Minimize the services and open TCP/UDP ports on each device to the absolute rock bottom bare minimum you need for the device to do its job, and secure those ports you need to only allow the users and devices that require access.
5.  Encrypt, Encrypt, Encrypt!
6.  Harden every device on your network.  There is no such thing as a secure network.

But if stuxnet had to hit someone, Iran is better than some I can think of to take a pounding.

Week 1 – 7 and 8.  Not bad. 

Here are the picks for week 3

Tennessee and New York Giants – Tennessee
Cinci and Carolina – Bengals
Pittsburg and Tampa Bay – Steelers
Buffalo and New England – Buffalo
Cleveland and Baltimore – Cleveland
San Fransisco and Kansas City – Kansas City
Dallas and Houston – Dallas
Detroit and Minnesota – Vikings!
Atlanta and New Orleans – New Orleans
Washington and Saint Louis – Redskins!
Philadelphia and Jacksonville – Jacksonville
Indianapolis and Denver – Indy
Oakland and Arizona – Raiders!!!
 San Diego and Seattle – Seattle
New York Jets and Miami – Miami
Green Bay and Chicago – Green Bay

On a tip from C-90-RI in the GBC, I was pointed to this story of poisoned mouse corpses being used to try to clear out an invasive species of snake in Guam.

Yes, it’s dark and probably only funny to me because I haven’t slept more than 2 hours straight for 3 nights, but here’s what went through my mind after reading that:

Fighting Rodents from the Sky
These are mice, that have already died
100 rats will be dropped today
but only 3 win the furry beret!

With apologies to SSG Barry Sadler

Sorry for the light posting in the past few days.  Work is crazy, and now a stomach bug is making its way through the family.  I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten it, so knock wood I’m OK.  Just run down.

I’m working on a couple of longish posts that might actually make sense, so stay tuned to this station.

Roberta X has lost her feline companion of 20 plus years. 

Go on over and show some love.