They're for damned sure doing their part

Discovered via BlackFive:

A father's promise, a son's sacrifice for his country

Only click on that if you don't mind a good cry.

We must always strive to be worthy of such men, even if we never can be.

Don't forget to remember, on this special day:

Happy 233rd We'll Cross the Delaware and Kill You in Your Sleep so Don't Piss Us off Day!

It's my favorite holiday this time of year, although the rest of my family is talking about some silly one tomorrow. Oh well, family, go figure.

This day in History-June 6, 1944

On this day in history thousands of terrified young men looked into the void, and advanced up the beach, and into legend, anyway. Many are still there.















Operation Overlord was a massive amphibious assault on the beaches of Normandy by Allied forces in an effort to place the Third Reich in a two-fronted defensive battle. Despite massively fortified beach defenses, artillery, bunker & tunnel networks, pillboxes, you name it and all on the high ground, Allied forces advanced up a beach that had been converted into a killzone.

To borrow from another theatre, "Uncommon valor was a common thing."

Poetry Corner, Segeant MacKenzie

Segeant MacKenzie

By: Joseph Kilna MacKenzie

Scots Tongue

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me

Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

English Translation

Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone

When they come I will stand my ground
Stand my ground I'll not be afraid

Thoughts of home take away my fear
Sweat and blood hide my veil of tears

Once a year say a prayer for me
Close your eyes and remember me

Never more shall I see the sun
For I fell to a German's gun

Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Where before many more have gone

Listen to the lyrics here.

The primary has returned to the safe house, repeat, primary in safehouse

To explain the recent lack of blogging:

Last week, in accordance with an urgent summons, I mounted my brave steed (the wife's Forrester actually) and ventured to the barbarian south of my birth (Oregon). There I did manly battle with hippies and yuppies (well, those were mostly in Seattle and I more hissed at them than did battle) and was reunited with my long lost siblings (fairly true, actually).

It was the first time since my sister's wedding that all three of us were under my parents' roof at one time and the first time in seven or eight years where we actually got to spend more than a few hours together. The happy coincidence of our visit covering Easter was a bonus as well.

The circumstances concerning our visits weren't so serendipitous. Rotten daughter #2, aka. the middle child (my middle child), was taken to Doernbecher's, by her biological father, with dizziness spells and vomiting. Spent a few days at the hospital while she returned to normal. Her shunt was adjusted (she has hydrocephalus) and we were able to take her to my parent's house.

Other reasons for the reunion are personal to someone else and not mine to post about, so I won't.

The good news is, the whole family got to spend time together. Mother and I patched up an old dispute sans rancor, I learned a few rather interesting things, and my brother finally got to get to know our brother-in-law.

I'll be posting more about some things that happened, including a really odd dream, later. I have a bit of long put off computer maintenance to attend to first.

R.I.P. Arthur C. Clarke

The last of the big three has died. While of the three (Heinlein, Asimov, and Clarke) he was my least favorite, that's hardly a condemnation considering his contemporaries. He wrote 2001, A space Odyssey, 2010, Rendezvous with Rama, and many other greats. He even originated the idea of geosynchronous orbit.

He was a visionary and he dared us to look beyond the horizons of our little planet and into space.

Gary Gygax, rest in peace

A paragon of the geek world died today. Gary Cygax, co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, and the father of tabletop role-playing, was 69 and is survived by his wife and six children.

Why do I care? Because Gary Cygax shaped an entire generation of geeks (self included) who are now the ones making movies, writing books, and programming video games. Role playing games forced us normally anti-social geeks to band together so we could play, more, that it was okay to be a geek.

Hard to thank someone enough for that.

Domari Nolo

In my morning reading today, I got linked to another blog I hadn't gotten to previously. Go and read it.

Done reading it? Groovy.

I'll preface what follows by saying I'm usually a very good humored kind of person. Granted, most people think I'm a murderously angry misanthrope, but those who know me know better. I don't get visibly mad, ever. Neither my wife nor my children have ever heard me raise my voice even. While I get irritated sometimes and might even use harsh language (especially while driving), I got angry so rarely it's almost a curious experience.

Today, reading the above story, I went incandescent. There's so many people involved that needed a severe beating. The security guard who 'saw everything,' the unmitigated jackasses who just stood and watched, the contemptible cowards who advised 'just giving them what they want,' and of course the bastards who actually attacked her. Those sub-human troglodytes beat her while she was down, just to get her purse? Those two needed their brain cases ventilated badly.

Speaking of 'just giving them what they want.' Are you kidding me? Has that ever helped anyone? Has sheep-like submission ever got anyone less raped, murdered, robbed, or beaten? 'But if I fight back, they'll just hurt me worse!' (Bleet! Bleet!) Maybe, or maybe they were going to kill you eventually anyway. When you submit sheepishly, you empower your predator and make yourself contemptible in their eyes. Congratulations, in the syllabus of lowlifes, you've labeled yourself a victim to be preyed on. Worse, your attacker will be emboldened to attack others. Way to go!

Our heroine goes on to describe how she would react if she were attacked again. I about stood up and clapped.

"If I'm ever in that position again-- unarmed and under attack -- I mean to come away from the experience(even if dead) with at least the trophy of one eyeball from my tormentor with which to festoon my trophy case. Next time would/will be tooth-and-nail. If I have time to access it, my weighty little Leatherman will be slammed forcefully into an accommodating temple-- I will do my best to kill with my bare, immaculately manicured hands: no more Mr. Nice Bitch. There are kneecaps, eyeballs, shins, insteps and wedding tackle among the array of vulnerable areas on an attacker, and I'll set about my business if I must."

That, gentle reader is the mentality.

From a self-defense perspective, everything is just tools, YOU ARE THE WEAPON. You are the only thing you can always count on having.

"I didn't believe in just handing it over, and I don't even moreso now than ever. I'm still no Linda Hamilton, but I think this is a principle that applies not just to possessions or your life, but to our very freedoms and rights as human beings. Don't just give it away without a fight. Passivity gets you nothing but soundly and thoroughly ensconced in the bitch-seat, and you teach the aggressors they were right to disdain you."

That last sentence is worthy of being a motto.