The Pool Team: Wanted - One Good Shooter

Everyone knows that the Pool Team isn’t winning many games. We loose pretty regularly. We have some good shooters but one that is not so good. Yaega Lee and ERL are consistently good, Quiet Man, (part owner / partner of the dive) is a good shooter, he’s been on bad streaks. Hector fills in when asked and Ellie does too. Hector is a shark, Ellie has a few surprises when they do shoot. But we haven’t seen some of our “shooters” for a few weeks.

The Kids from Island Park came down to shoot and were in the dive at 7:45, fifteen minuets before the league sanctioned starting time. I waited till ERL showed up and we started with two shooters at 8:40 while the rest of the team staggered in. (Yaega works late and can’t get off before 8:30) Quiet man was a no show for the night so he regulars stepped up.

Hector won his games, ERL and Yaega do their thing well. Shelly was behind the bar and Daria stayed quite a while, even the Met Fan hung out until about 10:30. I attempted to solicit him to shoot for us. He smiled and politely declined. Daria can shoot real well too. But she was just chillin out on the video games up front. Daria said had been to dinner with the big shots at work and just wanted to kinda kick it for awhile. So she did.

But having Hector and Ellie available didn’t stop the inevitable. It was a night full of pitifully bad shooting or just real bad luck. I know that eventually that the bar will again put together a real fine team with great shooters. The Met Fan talked about some other regulars in the dive that were part of some awesome teams in the past, we could have used one this Wednesday Night.

We have great shooters, good shooters and others too bad to talk about. But what the fuck, I will anyway. We have one guy who starts out alright, but gimps all over the place and can’t shoot to save his life. It’s obvious he has problems standing up, that’s why he wobbles like a cross-eyed chicken and is so near sighted he can’t distinguish the numbers on a ball just one foot from the next. What’s so pathetic is that he can’t walk well, can’t see well, can’t stand without wobbling, but he shows up to shoot.

He looks normal, but watching him its obvious he’s all fucked up. Why the hell does he bother to show up? Yaega depends on the looser to be there on time so the rest of the team doesn’t forfeit the game when the good shooters get there ever so fashionably late. That’s not a good reason to have a bad shooter on the team, but it works for the dive. Even this night could have been a forfeit. But the wobbling old fool kept the event in play.

ERL asked him, ‘what the hell you on’ (he wanted some of whatever it was). The man was on two different nerve blocking medications and nitroglycerine tablets (chest pain to die for). The worn out faded shooter was also on a powerful blood pressure medicine, that when mixed with alcohol can cause a person to loose ones perception of time and distance. Yeah, what the fuck is this guy doing on a pool team? Who is this guy? This persistent, pain racked, piss poor shooting asshole is me, RJ.

After loosing a doubles game we should have won ( I missed the eight ball). I sat down at the bar. Shirley was pissed off at me because I bought no drinks that night, I was drinking ginger ale and she thought I was sleeping at the bar. Two out of three she got right. I wasn’t sleeping at the bar, I’m used to the pain getting so bad my eyes tear up without me noticing, when someone tells me about it, I put my head on my sleeve to wipe my face without notice.

“Wanted – One good, reliable pool player” inquire at the bar.

RJ

To Your Health!

Tobacco smoke-filled air is bad for cardiovascular health, and drinking alcohol at the same time only makes it worse, according to researchers at the University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB). There was a 4.7 fold increase in artery lesions when the mice were exposed to smoky air in a laboratory enclosure and fed a liquid diet containing ethanol, the intoxicating ingredient in alcohol.

I read this bit of good news here:
http://mobilize.virtualreach.com/phonifier/index.php?l=1&i=1&u=http://feeds.b5media.com/~r/b5media/AHeartyLife/~3/190426236/

I know a lot of you have an attitude of "I gotta die from something". My thinking is, well, it doesn't have to be tomorrow!

There is a prescription drug available called Chantix. I know several people that were able to put the smokes down within a week or two. And these are people who smoked for 20 years or more.

It is a little pricey, but once you quit, the cost will be more than offset by not spending money on tobacco.

I'm not trying to be preachy here, but when I read that article I immediately thought of the 1762ers and their environs.

Hope you are all enjoying your holiday season.

Request Granted

I got a request from formerly pregnant Lily:

Thanks for the blogspot entry about Meghan (correct spelling of her name). Um, the reason for my e-mail to the blog is to request a new name for me, even though I won't be around for sometime but to maybe pop my head in to say hey because of tending to my motherly duties (of course) but I was thinking that Id like to keep the Lily part of it all because of my name being a flower and all but obviously I am no longer Pregnant and wont be for at least another year and a half to two years. So my request is to be referred to as Miss. Lily until I become prego again. LOL! Hope that my request is fulfilled and not a problem. I miss you all and hope to be pop'in in there just to say a quick hi soon. Labor was definitely something that I will never forget and ended with a slice to my belly to get my beautiful bundle of joy out into the world. All I can say is that all the pain in the world is well worth the wait of such a precious living creature I now have to call my daughter. Will send a pic when I can. Give a hey to the crew at the CT and keep the entries flow'in.
Miss. Lily

Well, request granted Miss Lily. Glad to hear you and Meghan are doing well. I am sure all of the 1762 crowd echoes my sentiment. Hope to see that pic really soon, posted right here if you give the green light. And hope to see you at the dive as well. Happy Holidays, Baby's First Christmas and all that good stuff!

Thanksgiving: Counting Friends & Blessings

Mom kicked me out of the kitchen, why? I was in her way. So I took a trip to the ancient dive for want of nothing else to do to my liver. The moon was bright in the clear night sky, late in the last quarter, two nights before the full moon. I walked in and found the place was full of regulars, apparently I wasn’t the only one put out of the kitchen. Shelly was behind the bar and working the crowd. Bossman is traveling.

The sisterhood was in attendance and I saw a face I haven’t seen in over two full moons, K-Cee was in the back smoking with Candy, it was good to see them both. Daria was in the house with her new flame, Petita, Rallie was there too, a few semi regular menhaters, along with some of Shelly’s late nighters who got off work early. The Met Fan was in attendance with another long time local from the old school, Mad Wack, who is known to hit on anything walking.

Hector and Ellie were working the jukebox and all the sisterhood were dancing and having a good time. I waited for a break in the action before even attempting to go near the jukebox. Mad Wack was scoping the bar and attempting to talk to anyone who would give him 3 seconds. Candy and Ellie danced for a while. I was checking out the crowd looking for the drama. There was none at this time. Everyone was getting loose but staying within themselves.

Everyone was very attentive to Daria. On the surface everything looks fine with Daria, like Mount Vesuvius looked fine to the inhabitants of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Candy was also looking fine and getting loose with all members of the Sisterhood, but she was also dancing around the pain, her smile nicely painted over what she was feeling. K-Cee was just getting loose and letting go. I was glad to see that.

The old First Sergeant showed up, Dorn was having a ball, I got to the jukebox and he was right behind me. Ellie was kind of pissed, we kept it rocking, but it was soul, Motown, Atlantic, T-Neck, Phillie Int’l and Quncy. Pimp was at the front end of the bar and he was pretty cool. We talked, he lamented that his woman was not around, he was hurting because he was alone. I knew what he was feeling, I did empathize with him about loneliness, not his being lonely.

Mad Wack was not happy with some of the “lez music” but he was happy to be in the house when the music went to old soul. The Met Fan was doing his sing along to the lyrics in his usual style even M.W. (Mad Wack) commented about his singing skills (he wanted him to shut up). Brad popped in and had one or two. Daria and some sisterhood members shot pool against some ‘young dudes’ (ala Mott the Hoople, get it?) Daria kicked ass.

Beyond the easy groove on the surface was an apparent sadness, a quiet mood that all the sisterhood and some of the regulars were in. It was Holiday Blues, and since many of us were missing loved ones, the alcohol dousing we gave our hearts, minds and livers was noticeable and apparent. We who lost souls were running from the pain by filling up the glass, hoping the empty bottle would somehow fill a hole in our souls. (Not happening)

Petita’s love for Daria was apparent by her deep affection, shown in a variety of tasteful but clearly passionate ways. That love became explosive when Daria wanted to drive herself home. Petita went off, she was angry at herself for getting angry with Daria. Candy ironed out all the wrinkles in short order (she’s great at that). Candy revealed some of the reason why she helped Daria decide to ride home. She knows what it is to loose family to drunk drivers.


It was really cool to play music with K-Cee and Candy. I watched them talk, laugh, have fun and get loose. Candy danced with me for a while and that always gets me smiling inside-out. I watched the dread in every face that left the dive. They didn’t want to face the next day. When Candy, K-Cee and I left it was Thanksgiving Day. Gentle smiles poorly hid the heavy hearts.

We are missing people this Thanksgiving. But we should give thanks for the love and support we have shown each other in the dark times, the hard times, the bitter times. For people who are supposed to be cold hard drinkers there are the softest, kindest most generous hearts I’ve ever known. When Daria gave into the wishes of her lover and friends, I saw love and love returned, it did move me. (I’m getting soft in my old age too)

Many regulars lost loved ones this year, Daria, Candy, Brad, the Met Fan, S.D. and me, among others. Some of us still hurt over loved ones lost in years past. The bar lost regulars that we seemed to take for granted until they were gone. Gone from time are Jessie, Tommy, George and an old guy few remember, Kevin. As we deal with the grief of loss, let us rejoice in knowing that we do care for each other and actually feel and share our pain as easily as we share music and liquor.

Lets be thankful for the souls in our lives and the love we share, whether from the sweetness of celebration or the bitterness of grief, we must give thanks for the love.

Peace

Happy Thanksgiving

RJ

A Bar Story: Toasting Grief

It was a week after Veterans Day, Saturday, November 18th as the clock struck twelve. An old Marine Warrant Officer, Aaron B. Strong had long past toasted with heavy drinkers and gluttons. He was thoroughly disappointed that the woman he was counting on seeing didn’t show up. It was a spacious old Inn outside of Montgomery, in upstate New York. It was 1967.


The woodwork was early 1900’s and the ornate bar featured a huge mirror hung in a massive oak frame carved with roses and cheribums. It was soon going on two in the morning and the Old Marine got up realizing he had a little too much to drink. The bartender, Gus lived upstairs at the old Inn and told the Marine he could stay the night. Aaron took the offer and was told how to get upstairs to a room with a cot and a bucket. Aaron thanked Gus and said he would be right up.

Aaron wanted to forget, he wanted a woman, he wanted someone to be with. But he couldn’t forget, he lost his woman and he was alone. He put down his rock glass about a third full with whiskey when the bar started to glow. He tried to shake off the sight, too much whiskey. Then they started showing up. The door was locked, the bartender was asleep and the bar had customers coming out of the walls.

The Old Gunner was convinced he was loosing it. He was with the III Marine Amphibious Force in Quang Nam and Quang Tin Provinces, during Operation Wheeler. He operated in shadows belonging to a Force Recon Unit working as both forward observers and the point of the sword. He had been part of much carnage, much grief and was sent back to the states early due to his unique ways of keeping his Marines engaged while minimizing casualties.

He wanted to go back to Nam, he wanted to be in country with his boys. He is here in a bar full of people, in a bar that had been closed for over an hour. The man in the grey smoking jacket, black hair, pale face and riding boots smoking a strong pipe introduced himself as ‘Glen Turner’.
Next to Glen, dressed like 1890 with black beard and moustache, black long coat and black bowtie was Jack Daniels. Talking amongst themselves at one end of the long ornate maple bar was none other than the distiller, Jim Beam, along with Johnnie Walker and Phillipe Lasala.

Aaron finished his whiskey and headed for the stairs, only to find the stairway blocked by a tall West Indies woman in a dark red dress, high heels and pearls, with platinum hair and a pony tail down to her waist. Her English and Jamaican accented voice was melodious but rude, she said “No sir, you stay with us awhile.” “Who Are You,” demanded Aaron. “I’m Tia Maria.” Her eyes were black with a glow of red encircling her pupils, Aaron backed up to the bar in stark fear.

“What do you want with me?” Aaron stood with his back to the wall across from the bar as Tia Maria came down the steps and took a seat at the bar. “What!” Aaron demanded, “What.” All the patrons had whiskey in front of them as the apparition behind the bar became clearer. An old Negro dressed in a 1920’s bartenders uniform from the Pennsylvania Railroad was behind the bar serving Tia Maria. “What are you drinking my man” said the Bartender to Aaron.

“Nothing right now,” Aaron said as he approached the stairs. As he took the first step on the stairs a sharp pain shot through his foot. He backed up, turned round and all eyes were on him. “Sit down and drink with us Marine, don’t leave us here without at least one drink” said Jim Beam as he motioned to the bartender who put down a rock glass and poured some Wild Turkey.

“That’s what I was drinking, but not now, I don’t think any of you are real, my mind and body needs rest.” Aaron again tried to get away from the bar and the floor became burning hot. Aaron jumped onto a barstool and sat with his feet on the foot rest at the bar. Jack Daniels laughed with Jim Beam and Johnny Walker as Tia Maria shook her head. “Boy, you know what says the scriptures don’t you?” Jack Daniels lit a cigar and again said “well don’t ya.”

“What the hell are you talking about” barked Aaron. “Hell, that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about boy…’Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts’ that’s what says the scripture boy, said Jack Daniels as cigar smoke wafted through the bar. Aaron was shaking visibly, he said “what do you mean by ‘perish’?” ‘I’m not gonna die’. “The hell you aint boy!” Jack Daniels put down his cigar staring at Aaron.

Tears started to stream down the Old Marines face, “why, what did I do…when am I going to die” said Aaron. “Depends on you Sir,” quipped Johnny Walker, “so drink with us now as we toast to ‘grief’", said Johnny Walker in his thick Scots brogue. Aaron picked up his glass and they all drank. Aarons drink was unusually smooth and kind of sweet but turned bitter in his gut.

Phillipe Lasala flicked his cigarette, in his starch hard French accent said to Aaron, “look in the glass”. Aaron’s glass was full again, Phillipe again said “look”. He stared in the glass and saw Vietnam, he heard and saw it all vividly. His Marines were lying on the ground returning fire as the Corporal covered the body of a fallen comrade. Aaron then saw the funeral of the Mother and Father of a young Vietnamese orphan.

“Keep looking” said Phillipe as the Bartender poured him another drink, “see it all Aaron, see it all.” He saw the pretty young wife of his brave Marine that had been killed, she was on her knees at the graveside after taps had been played and the honor guard marched off. The widow clutched her heart, tears poured down her anguished face as her little boy held her arm. The glass got foggy then became black. Aaron shuddered.

“I don’t want to see no more, leave me alone, leave me the hell alone. “Hell is where you may end up if you don’t see this through”, said Glen Turner as he puffed on his pipe. “What’s this all about, why are you messing with me, why? Aaron was angry, hurting, his stomach bitter, eyes full of tears and his heart heavy, “Why did I have to see that…why’d you make me see that."


“Because we toasted to grief and we wanted to make sure you had some” sneered Jim Beam. “Your not fucking with me anymore tonight, I’m done” screamed Aaron. The assembled entities all pointed to the extreme end of the bar, from the darkness behind Jack Daniels emerged Captain Morgan and the Reaper was with him. The bartender said “if I were you I’d hang around…if you go, you’ll go with them”. “Drink man, then look in the glass” said the bartender.


Aaron took another drink as Captain Morgan ordered rum. The Reaper just sat there. Aaron looked in the glass and saw himself standing alone in the middle of a Veterans cemetery. He read the white marble headstones, all had the names of men he commanded, men he last saw alive before he left Vietnam. The sky was dark grey, Aaron was being ripped by a harsh cold wind that had pushed him shivering, slipping next to an open grave in the rain.

Aaron saw the Reaper there pointing at the rows. He was caught by another wind and suddenly Aaron was at the bar staring in the glass. “Are they all gone…are all my boys…dead” cried Aaron. “Not yet” said Captain Morgan as he put his foot on the foot rest. “But if they were dead, would you blame yourself? If they were dead would you want to join them? Would you Gunner?” Captain Morgan then sipped his rum and motioned for an answer.

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want them to die…tell me what you want from me. What do I have to do to keep them alive” Aaron said, sweat now forming on his forehead. The Reaper faced him and his boney finger pointed at Aaron’s glass. The bartender filled it again. “Oh no, please don’t make me do this” cried Aaron. The Reaper again pointed his boney finger as he adjusted his sickle. Aaron in fear for his life, drank again and looked in the glass.

Aaron saw himself in a VA hospital and the doctor telling him he had a short time to live, he then saw himself laying in the street on a bitter cold night, he had no home. Aaron saw thugs kicking him mercilessly then running off as he bled in the street. Aaron then let go of the glass. “This can’t happen to me, I have the Navy Cross, the Legion of Merit, two Silver Stars, four Bronze Stars, and at least a dozen other medals for gallantry, bravery and valor” said Aaron.

“Take your medals to the Real Estate Man and see what they buy you in America” said Tia Maria as she sipped her liqueur. She put down her glass and said “Take your medals to any woman, a whore, a nurse, a church lady or a gold digger, they won’t give a second look if they give a first one…your bravery, valor, courage don’t buy a stinkin thing. These we’ll put in the box with you when we put you in the pit” said Tia Maria without batting her evil eyes.

“What do you want me to do! Tell me what you want me to do! Just stop this. Just stop these visions, please stop this grief. “What is it you want from me, begged Aaron, What do you want?” “We want you to taste the bitterness, the pain, the loneliness, the despair, yes the grief, that you have been part of or responsible for in the lives you have touched” said the Bartender. Now that you have had a little taste, what you gonna do? The bartender put the bottle on the shelf saying, “What will you do?”

“I’m going to find a way to help my boys, I’m going to find a way to change.” Aaron turned to the Reaper, “I hurt so much, I just want enough strength to get to the next day. I never had any grandiose dreams of mansions and riches, I just want friends that care, friends I can share with and a family of my own.

I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to die alone. I know how to fight, I know how to kill, I know you Reaper! Aaron turned to the rest of the Bar, “I don’t know compassion, I don’t know mercy, I don’t know love.”

Aaron went on, “I’d give anything for my Marines, I must lead them to fight and die if necessary, but I don’t know how to do anything else, I don’t know if I can. I want to change, but all I can do is find or steal enough strength to get to the next day. Why don’t you help me?” “Us help you,” shouted Captain Morgan. Morgan continued “Look at us, don’t you realize who we are? We are your broken crutch, your empty diversion, your liquid courage, your ‘next day’, we are the abominable, we are your life.”

Tia Maria said “You chase women who can’t love you, you give your life for death, you kill because of an oath, you suffer because of an order. You don’t want to live, you give a little piece of yourself to us every time your lips touch the glass, why even continue with living” she then wiped her glistening lips. “Is that why you’re here, to kill me” said Aaron wiping the sweat from his brow. “We can’t do anything else for you, you ordered the poison, so drink your poison, here we are, grief is what you ordered, this we bring to the hopeless, especially you” said Morgan.

“Enough talk Captain, the Gunner called us here, now its time we reply. The grief you gave is the grief you’ll get” said Glen Turner as he put down his pipe. “There’s not much left to take from you except your life” said Jim Beam. The Reaper now moved closer to Aaron, raising his sickle. “No! I am not hopeless,” said Aaron moving toward the door as his feet burned. Aaron fell to his knees, crawling, saying “I am loveless, not hopeless and I will not let you kill me”.

Jack Daniels said “You have already let us kill you, now shut up and die.” Aaron said, “Jesus, please help me, now.” The assembled entities screamed and the Reaper backed up. Aaron leaned back on his knees and said, “help me trade this grief for joy, help me God to stop the hurting, help me beat the Reaper.” Then all of the entities attacked Aaron including the Reaper. The room turned bright white, then everything turned black.

“Get up Aaron, get up” said Gus. Aaron got up off the floor as day was breaking. Aaron squared himself away and reported to his duty station. Several years passed and he was at Pinelawn Veterans Cemetery with his sons standing in front of the grave of a fallen Marine. Aaron’s son Dan asked, “Daddy why did so many people die.” “So we could live and be happy” said Aaron. “Are you sad Daddy?” “A little Dan, but I’m happy that they lived to fight.”

Aarons adopted Vietnamese son, Van Lee said “Daddy, didn’t you fight”? “Yes son I did.” Holding Aarons hand tight, Van Lee said, “Your not going to the white stones are you, your not going to die?” “Son, If I was going to die I wouldn’t be here with you.” “Oh, O.K. Dad”. “Now boys face the Marines grave and salute.” Aarons sons saluted with him. Aarons wife looked on them from the cemetery road, they walked toward her, into the sunset.


Happy Thanksgiving

RJ

From Time into Eternity....

Daria’s beloved sister passed away on 11 November 2007. It is with profound shock and extreme sadness that I pass on to all who see this writing my sincere sympathy and pray Almighty God grant his grace, peace and comfort to all who knew Daria’s sister.

I pray for all who grieve, especially Daria and her family. God soothe and calm all hearts that share this loss.

Gods Peace.

Pregnant Lily is now Mommy!

Got the following in a text message today:

"Heather n Megan r well. 8lbs 12oz born 1019am. Winthrop Hospital."

Congratulations to the proud parents on Megan's arrival!

So BTW who won the pool? I know I missed by three days. Got the girl part right. Don't remember the guess on the weight. 8 lbs 12 oz is a BIG baby!

Aftermath-Marine Corps Birthday Toast

I didn’t realize how ungrateful a nation we have become. I didn’t realize how pitifully selfish and ignorant citizens of the United States are. I didn’t realize how much “the people” take for granted. I didn’t realize how much contempt, insensitivity, and passive malevolence people who enjoy the right to speak, bear arms and assemble have toward their sons, brothers, fathers, sisters, mothers and ‘friends’ who stared death in the face for these United States of America.

It was at the toast that I got to see it, I saw how selfish many were. There were three Veterans at the toast. O.K. I tried to put this together for two weeks but couldn’t get to the Owner until Wednesday before the toast. So the timing was my fault. I didn’t really care if I was the only Veteran at the toast, I wanted to share and celebrate with Americans what my Corps was and why they should appreciate these men and women who gave so much.

At the last salute some people became belligerent, they tried to shout down the old Airborne First Sergeant who gave a toast to the Marines, they didn’t care to hear who we were toasting to and apparently didn’t give a fuck about the Marine Corps, Veterans or the Salute to POW/MIA’S. I didn’t get to close the ceremony with taps because everybody wanted to ‘put money in the jukebox’ even after I explained how the ceremony would be conducted.

I asked for their indulgence, the food was free. Dino spent a lot of money to put food out. Forget what I spent, apparently it wasn’t significant. Apparently with a belly full of food and liquor the so called ‘Americans’, the so called ‘Citizens of Long Island, the so called ‘Free People, showed me that they really didn’t have much respect for me or anyone in who served.

I had a woman that night tell me her father was in the Marines and she didn’t think much of it. “So what” she said. I tried to carry on without betraying my personal dignity. Shelly said not to pursue it, “they don’t care” she said. One woman asked me if I accomplished what I wanted to do. Apparently not. I thought a quiet heart felt celebration of the good sons and daughters in our nations glorious Corps of Marines would resonate in a positive way with good spirit and joy.

I do feel like a fool and complete idiot for thinking that this would be appreciated. I do want to thank the Owners for their time and consideration for letting me put on this toast. I am not ungrateful about this gesture and thank him from my heart. I thank Shelly for being a good hostess and her attentiveness to this ‘celebration’. Other than the Old First Sergeant from the Army Airborne and Vietnam era Airman no one really cared about why we celebrated anything.

I sat at home staring into the flames in my fireplace realizing this is what the Marines died for, the ungrateful, the implacable, the self righteous as well as the good and the virtuous. Some of the Marines who died over the years were so young, they hadn’t even been with a woman. Some were even to young to be served liquor. I thank those who did appreciate this celebration and the spirit in which it was given. I hope the drunks and the gluttons enjoyed themselves.

I want to thank the Met Fan for encouraging me, he told me he did enjoy himself. My feelings are summed up by the words of an Unknown Marine whose words were found written on a box of rations, “"For those who fight for it, freedom has a flavor the protected will never know."
RJ.

Marine Corps Birthday Toast (Informal)

There will be an informal gathering of all and any Veteran of the United States Armed Forces to join in with any and all Marines (Once a Marine Always a Marine) for a series of toasts and reflections on the Marine Corps 232nd Birthday.

Although informal, come wearing pants, shirt and a coat (it will be cold) and shoes. You can wear anything else as long as no live ordinance is on your person. Any service person in uniform will get his or her first drink for free. This will take place on Saturday, November 10th, 2007 at the Corner Tavern on the North West Corner of Broadway and Stuart Avenue in Hewlett, N.Y. between 8:30 PM and 10:00 PM.

Veterans of all conflicts (WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Lebanon/Grenada, Gulf 1, Gulf 2 and Afghanistan) who are still ambulatory by any means, still imbibers of alcoholic spirits and still willing to hang out for a while with people who can relate to what you been through are welcome. Although this is a celebration of the Marine Corps Birthday, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Coast Guard, and Reservists are welcome to celebrate with us.

There will be four formal toasts and a closing ceremony. The first at the 21:00 HRS, the second at 21:15 HRS, the third at 21:30 HRS, the fourth at 21:45 HRS and the closing at 22:00 HRS, on 10 November 2007.

To Civilians, that is 9:00, 9:15, 9:30, 9:45 and 10:00 PM to you. Yes, food will be there and it will be good. Yes, the bartender that night will be good looking. No, you cannot tear up the bar like you did the E-Club at 14 Area back at Camp Pendleton.

This informal celebration is to acknowledge the Marine Corps, Marines on Active Duty, those who died in the line of Duty and those Marines who continue their duty as good Citizens of the United States of America. We will also acknowledge service members from all branches of the Armed Service including the Navy. Maybe even the Army too.

Any person who didn’t serve and wants to acknowledge good men and women who did great deeds for this wonderful country, the United States of America, (while your still free) are welcome to join in also.

Remember, if you join us or not, on 10 November 2007 say “Happy Birthday” to your local Marine. Even better say it to a Marine on Friday who is stationed in Iraq, Afghanistan or anywhere overseas.

Semper Fidelis, or to Jarheads (Marines) Semper Fi (that means “Always Faithful”)

See you later.

RJ.

LUCKY?!?

From AP:

Two 19-year-old women were shot in a parking lot at Macy's in Valley Stream, Long Island when they refused to give up their cell phones to a teenage robber.

Nassau County police said the teen used a BB gun to shoot one woman in the shoulder when she refused to hand over her phone.

The two women turned and ran, and the robber fired several shots -- hitting one three times in the back and the other once in the shoulder.

Police say the women are lucky it was a BB gun, because their wounds were not life threatening.

What police officer would go on record and state that these women were lucky? I would categorize them as unlucky.

• First and most obviously, they were victims of a violent crime. No luck there.
• The women were definitely unlucky since the perp here was a pretty decent shot. Four hits is pretty good.
• Finally, the mental process at work here on the part of the victims is troubling. They out and out refuse, using the vernacular, to "run their shit". This means give up their cell phones to the armed thug. Then, after refusing, they decide that they may have a chance to OUTRUN a BULLET! I would say it was very unlucky for these ladies that they were not blessed with much in the way of common sense.

Why do people still shop at Green Acres anyway? Larcenies, robberies are commonplace there. I have lived in the area for 12 years and can count on one hand the number of trips I have made there.

Any 1762ers shop at GA?

Tour of the Champion: Resolution

We pick up this saga from Saturday Night going into Sunday Morning on a Memorial Day Weekend in 1985. RJ has arrived at the barracks after spending the night on Cece's couch. He is now getting some bad news from the Night Watch Commander, Sergeant Walton.


Morning came Cece dropped me off at MPD North, I checked in with Sergeant Walton who immediately called Gunny Townsend. “What’s the problem Walt, your looking at me like I’m some kind of victim” I said leaning against the wall.


“What’s going on now Walt, What? “A crime unit from Central was here last night in your room. I think things are now out of Gunny’s hands RJ, something weird is going on” said Walton with tremble in his voice.

I sprinted to my barracks. A crime scene cordon had been set up across my door. “Duty NCO, open my room,” I demanded. Duty NCO was on the phone, “standby Sergeant.” So I stood by waiting for the Gunny. Everybody in the barracks was going somewhere. When they saw me they gave their condolences as if I had died and ran out of the barracks like it had caught on fire. I could here a jeep pull up, I heard heels pop and then..”A’TTEN,HUUH.”

As he came into view I locked up at the position of attention, It was Captain Garrett accompanied by the Gunny. I greeted him, “Good morning Captain.” “At ease, unlock.” I greeted Gunny, then put the question, “Captain, may I ask why the crime scene tape is on my door?” “Sergeant, its not your door, its mine and we’re going to open it now” announced the Captain. I entered my room and knew it was the end for me. Almost everything had been packed up, except some uniforms and my civilian clothes.

The Captain sat at my desk, Gunny sat on my rack, I was left standing in the middle. “Why the fuck were you sharpening a ‘K-Bar’ on a Saturday evening Sergeant. “I didn’t have anything else to do at the time Captain.” “DON’T BLOW SMOKE UP MY ASS SERGEANT”, the Captain said raising his voice. “Blood oaths, dark rituals, self inflicted wounds, these are things that the Corps frowns on…I hope that’s not what happened here.” I fought back anger and tears.

“I most respectfully choose not to comment sir”, I said trying to keep from shaking apart. “RJ, relax, please-this isn’t quite what it looks like,” said the Captain. “I need you to stay wrapped as tight as you were the day you got here…we’re all under a microscope and believe me I won’t let you go down, you are not in trouble…your in crisis. All things will stay as the Gunny set up, you are still going to be here until we get word from Battalion on Wednesday” the Captain implored. We packed your gear because a mess was made.

“This morning your going on a picnic with the Navy at White Beach, we’ll drive you. Your gonna talk to a real sweet lady, a real good looker with auburn hair, blue eyes and long legs, her name is Rachel. Be there until just afternoon. Staff Sergeant McMichaels will come get you when its over, Understood Sergeant” snapped the Captain.

“With total clarity sir” I replied. “Good, …now shit, shower, shave, get in clean clothes and get out front asap. Gunny you got the ball” said the Captain as he departed. We all locked up at attention as he took off.

I’m at this picnic and I don’t know why, McMichaels introduces me to Rachel and leaves. “How are you, I’m RJ”. “RJ, I’m Rachel Friedan, I run the Psychological Services extension for the Navy and the Marines, sit down, eat…there’s plenty of food and no bugs to share it with.”

My appetite wasn’t quite the same after she introduced herself. We ate together and then she analyzed me, my medical record was in front of her.

“Ma’am if this gets on my record I’m finished” I said shaking visibly. “That’s why you’re here, we’re at a unit sanctioned picnic so its O.K. for an enlisted man to talk to an officer without suspicion” said Rachel. “I need to know that your injury was an accident, even though I know it wasn’t. Got it.”

“Yes Ma’am, I said softly.” She did her interrogation and/or analysis, she took a long look at my life, revealing a soul slowly going dark. “Until you forgive yourself you won’t really forgive your wife,” Rachel said. I told her I would let go of the vengeance. I walked to the beach alone to break my oath before God to kill Price. I hurt to my heart, it felt so bad, I crossed my arms and fell to my knees in tears.

It was a beautiful day to let it all out, to let it go. Rachel said she would see me later in the week, I didn’t ask why. A sailor ran in our direction, “Commander Friedan, we’re gonna wrap up soon.” “Carry on Doc, I’ll be there” she shouted. “Go and unwind yourself, get yourself together, your going to have a rough day Wednesday, be ready. Take Care Sergeant.” “Good Afternoon Commander” I said coming to attention. McMichaels showed up and whisked me back to the barracks.

I unpacked a seabag and found my camera. I prepared a small back pack with toiletries, a change of clothes and some water. I bought some trailmix and beef jerky at the PX. I checked out with the Duty NCO walked across the grass to MPD North and asked Sergeant Jackson to tell me the patrol routes so I could hitch rides to Camp Schwab, Tiger Beach and Onna Onna Son. Me and the Almighty needed to talk.

I walked and prayed all Sunday afternoon, taking pictures, watching combat maneuvers, strolling the Okinawa countryside. It was a unique privilege I had in this life to be where I was.

My Uncle’s fought the Battle of Okinawa in World War II, they were here getting shelled and shot at by the Japanese. The honor was not lost on me, my Uncle’s and their generation took this island with blood, I administer this same Island they fought, bled and died for. I swelled with pride.

Cece’s voice and her words echoed in my head, like the sound of the siren that tempted brave Ulysses. “..stay in the Corp with me… I have no trouble being loyal to you”. It was getting dark, I stopped by a local store, knowing little if any Japanese I tried to communicate. The locals stared at me astonished and surprised. I bought a Coke, an old man came out from the back of the store and shook my hand. We sat on the steps of his store drinking Cokes and talking with each other. I was genuinely moved. I felt forgiven and respected.

The M.P. vehicle pulled up, it was Cpl. Kierken. As I left, I bowed in the Japanese tradition at waist level first, the old Japanese man bowed not as low as me, which is what I expected. I wanted him to know I respected him and thanked him.

“Sayōnara, I said in departure, then jumped in back of the Chevy Luv Pickup. I got back to Hansen, checked in and picked up my messages. I had a hot message from Cece, another message from “T” and a message from Division at Camp Pendleton.

I called Cece who invited me out to dinner, I told her I didn’t feel like eating but would call her after she pulled duty on Monday. I contacted MP Co., 1st Marine Division and talked to SSgt. VanAlden who assured me that they would ‘take care’ of Corporal Price and that the Marines in my old unit felt dishonored and betrayed by his actions. I thanked him and said I couldn’t tell them just how much they all meant to me. Then I called “T”.

“T” said, “Good news and more good news, RJ. First, Cpl. Price was busted in LA, transported back to Pendleton after his people came up with $50,000 bail. He will be arraigned on charges as soon as he gets out of the Medical wing.” What, why is he in Medical? “Some Mexican bitch skewered his balls with a hatpin. He will serve twice for the same crimes, first with LA, then we will Court Martial him on the same charges plus some”, said “T” with glee.

“I might celebrate tonight, “T” you with me?” “No man gotta work. You go ahead, party…” I washed up, changed clothes, got some chow and got a ride to White Beach. McMichaels told me about a club mostly tourists went to because of the huge cover charge, Club Champion not far from the beach. I had some cash, so I went.

It was a very nice split level building, new construction, without any signs on it and no name. As I approached the door I was told their was a cover charge, I thought it would be about $50 bucks. $100 dollars U.S. the attendant said as he brushed his sleeve. I thanked him and was about to walk off when I saw her. Haruka was in a blue grey business suit and thin dark glasses. “He has been taken care of” said Haruka to the attendant who acknowledged her with a bow.

“Sergeant James will be seated up front, near the stage…Welcome to Club Champion” said Haruka. As I was being seated I noticed a more mature, cultured and cosmopolitan clientele than in the military bars in Kin Kin Cho. It was spacious with rooms off to the side and in the back with a huge bar and real nice grill.

The seats were very comfortable around large glass tables. As I sat drinking I nearly did a spit take as Kayo dressed in a tight pink and yellow satin mini skirt took to the stage.

After she introduced some preliminary strip acts, she explained about the “Championship dance series”. Essentially it was a contest to see how many women a man could ‘dance’ with before he lost his load.

Bets were taken by the house, the winner would get a prize after the house took a nice cut. Many men made bets, and after being sufficiently liquored up, took to the stage. As the second guy took to the stage Haruka tapped me on the shoulder and I followed her to the cashier.

Haruka then pointed discreetly to a room, her eyes demanded I go, so I went. Kayo was seated while an older Japanese woman prepared something on the counter, this was essentially a clean room, like a doctors office. “We are going into a business proposition, you will dance after you bid to take more women than the rest, you must last at least 10 minuets after the last woman gets started on you. Understand” said Kayo. I asked if that was cheating. “Dance or pay”, she snapped.

“O.K., I’ll dance, but I can’t guarantee I won’t blow like ‘Old Faithful’, I see what those dancers are doing up there” I said skeptically. “Leave that to me, remember what we did at my place, your going to be prepared in sort of the same way, undress and lay down” commanded Kayo. I got real nervous real fast as the old woman approached me with those long thin acupuncture needles. “Relax, your going to have the time of your life…I promise” said Kayo. I was terrified.

There were seven men on stage before me and I came back on the seventh act. So far this last guy handled four dancers before he shot his wad. Kayo got on stage, “Who can do better, none, so it looks like this gentleman…” I stood up and said I could do ‘5’ women. Kayo looked and sneered, “Oh, can you…get on stage.”

The show was on and I was being pimped. “Place your bets, place your bets now” barked Kayo as the floor girls collected the wagers.

As I got on stage, one of the dancers looked at me and gave me brief instructions , “let us touch you, bend you and do what we want – go with it.”


70’s soul music was being jammed loudly, the first two dancers both in skin tight, sleeveless, sheer lavender open leotards, the neckline plunged to the waist, revealing nearly all the cleavage of firm heaving breasts, they were bare legged with heels on. I went with the music as they stripped me in rhythm, I was now naked.

Naked, onstage with two erotic dancers, following their instructions, they got my manhood erect and gloved it discreetly. From the audience it looked like I was penetrating them as they moaned and gasped as I moved in motion faking a hard backdoor screwing. Then the third and fourth dancers came in, I did other “faked” sex with them that looked real, the audience was loosing their minds to this choreographed sex show. Then the fifth dancer came out and did her thing.


She used the other dancers to sit on as I was directed to put my erect member between her hefty tightly pressed breasts. The song was ‘Fire’ by the Ohio Players we did other acts that were out of the Kama Sutra. The crowd was now screaming, ranting and rowdy when the last dancer came out, now I was really nervous, it was Kayo. The other dancers stayed on stage doing exactly what Kayo commanded with mere gestures and eye movement.

The tempo changed as they played “Nikki” by Prince. I didn’t think it could get any raunchier, but it did. Kayo and I feigned analingus, cunnilingus, fellatio and we did other acts where she was inverted in a "69. Then it got real.


She put her hands behind her and arched her back, two dancers crawled under her to give support as she pulled me into her. The real intercourse lasted awhile, about 20 minuets. The crowd had grown to capacity and was so loud the music was barely audible.

Before Kayo stopped to bend over with her backside to me and her face to the crowd, the dancers discreetly changed the raincoat on my manhood and Kayo said “go all the way.”

I did as instructed, I didn’t believe I could be anymore entertaining, but as Kayo got me in rhythm with her and the music, I blushed several different shades and we both had orgasm at the same time. The crowd was barely controllable. Haruka got on the mike, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the new Champion, ‘Hardcock’.”

I don’t remember getting off the stage, dressed or back to the barracks. I do remember waking up with a slight headache that Memorial Day morning. I heard a knock on my door, “Yo’ man its me open up.” I let “T” in. “Man like you don’t have enough trouble, now you’re a male stripper. Here’s the money you won last night.” It was over $600 dollars. ‘Was I that good “T”?’ “Man, Kayo and Haruka are still talking about last night. The whole base knows.”

Tuesday came and I prepared for Wednesday, I was on the last day of the pass. Cece picked me up and we went to lunch at the NCO club at Kadena, after that we went to the beach. We talked quite a bit, then she put the question.

“Rod, are you sure you want to spend your life with that woman…she broke your heart, what else does she have to break before you wake up.” I shook my head negatively, “Its my fault she’s in this position, I have to forgive her”

Cece looked at me with cool stern eyes and said, “You just might realize you made a big mistake, if you do, call me Rod. Call my home in North Carolina, I’ll get the message.” I was kind of angry, Cece knew that but she didn’t back off and she looked straight into me.

“I know you want me, we can have tomorrow if you give up yesterday, its up to you.” We left the beach and went to the barracks. I prepared for the inevitable. My Marine tour was nearly up.

At my review I was found fit for duty, I now had 35 days left. Major McKinley offered me a commission in the Marine Corps and orders to Quantico if I stayed. I declined. Upon returning to my unit I was sent to Captain Garrett. “Are you sure you want to go Sergeant, If you decide to stay you will be immediately Commissioned”, said the Captain. Before I could answer he said, “You also have 90 days to change your mind…take your time with this either way, O.K”.

‘I understand Sir, I will finish out my time here without any further distraction.’ “No Sergeant, you won’t, this is from HQMC” Captain read me my new orders. “…Proceed immediately to MCB Camp Pendleton, SU3, for immediate honorable discharge from the United States Marine Corps.” I couldn’t believe HQMC was discharging me over 30 days early.

Gunny Townsend checked me out of Battalion, so I said my goodbyes. In the S1 shop at HQ, I ran into “T” who insisted on taking me to Kadena for my flight.

“T” ran me out of Battalion HQ looking at the SRB clerk with a vicious stare, the clerk wanted to tell me something. I asked him “what’s up, what’s going on “T”.

“We’re even for everything now RJ” said “T”, “our honor is for the Corps”. Upon arrival at Kadena “T” passed me an NIS bulletin and informed me that Cpl. Jodi Price committed suicide in full dress uniform.

I flew to L.A. unannounced, my key still worked to our apartment. I heard June and Jana come in and talk about how her doctor said she was lucky to be clean and healthy. I was in uniform standing out of sight in the living room. June walked in the living room without noticing me and almost walked out. June turned around and screamed, Jana ran in, June grabbed me and held me so tight I couldn’t breath. “I’m home for good June, I won’t leave you until death do us part.”

“How do I…I mean, can we …” I interrupted June, “No guilt, no shame, no fear…Just hold me love” I said looking in her tear stained face. “You must be kidding!” She then proceeded to rip my uniform off, Jana laughed and cried saying, “see you guys later” as she ran out the back door.

Deployment is a real hardship on everyone sent overseas in combat or combat support capacities. The sufferings and anguish of the separation is endured as much at home as it is abroad by the serviceperson in uniform. There are many stories like this with unhappy endings. If you know of a service person overseas, write them, If you know of one going overseas find a way to let them know they are appreciated.

Love.

RJ

Pool Night: Loosing to Ancients at the Dive

The Pool Team representing the Ancient Dive is marginal at best. The problem is that we have marginal attendance by our shooters at our games. The other problem is that we don’t shoot that well at home.

One of the major reasons for that is a pool table that is broken, un-level, with worn felt and poor maintenance. We have lost close games to both good and bad teams. We lost games we should have won and won some we should have lost.

Last week we shot against a local team from a local bar. I won’t mention the name of that bar for fear of ongoing embarrassment. The shooters on that team had me thinking about the stereotypes that we have and the thought processes we use. I had to rethink the drinking part of Pool Teams. I will drink a lot less when shooting, although that Wednesday night, I had two beers all night. I knew we were in trouble.

I knew the old man in his early eighties, ‘James’ has been shooting pool since he was sailor in WWII, that’s right, a combat veteran of IWO JIMA and the Naval invasion of OKINAWA. This old gentleman, almost medium height, had a smile and a kind word for everyone he talked to. Many of our shooters knew him. He was known to be formidable. But what freaked me out was one of his shooting partners.

A little old lady in her eighties, frail and gentle, Maggie had to work to climb to sit up on the bar chair. James told me that Maggie used to own a bar in Hempstead, recently taken by the Town by right of eminent domain. Maggie’s pool stick was taller than she was. The two other shooters were a gent in his late 40’s and the other was in his mid 30’s. The two frail old timers moved slowly but quickly figured out the pool table was fucked up.

The argument made to shoot that night is that we all are shooting on the same table. That didn’t give me any comfort because we were at home, these old timers probably shot on all kinds of fucked up tables, if so, they had an advantage on me. Sure enough, I was right. The little old lady used her pool stick like a straight razor in a bar fight. Maggie cut us up and down making shots that were reminiscent of the ‘Black Widow’ and James looked like Willie Mosconi giving lessons to shmucks.

We lost almost all of our games. I shot two good games and lost because the table kept rolling my shots to the left (even practice on the crooked table dictated I make good shots) and of course a scratch. I knew we were screwed when the sweet old lady didn’t drink anything, not even a soda. Maggie had medication in her purse to help her out, she wasn’t feeling to good, only good enough to emotionally abuse us with her pool cue. Sad fact is we deserved it.

James stayed after he and his team administered their ass kicking. The didn’t gloat and were quite polite. Besides, starting a bar fight with an little old lady would get you talked about for the rest of your life, if Maggie didn’t straight out kill you. James told me about WWII, his kids, this bar, and other teams in the league. I really appreciated James and Maggie, they are treasures as people and competitors, I considered it a privilege to shoot against them and talk to them.

That night a lot of regulars were in attendance, including the menhaters and the dayshift. Candy passed a comment on my shooting and our overall approach as a team. I don’t recall the exact words but to paraphrase it was something to this effect: “Good experience can’t give great experience a chance.” A crooked table did not favor the home team that night. I closed the place with Shelly.

So much for my happy Halloween.

Love.

RJ

Another Look at Veteran’s Affairs

Here is some information regarding Veterans that everybody should know. If “assumption is the mother of all fuck ups” (quote from Under Seige 2) don’t assume Veterans are cared for.

Even now Veterans of every American conflict, I speak of those Veterans who are still living, are being denied benefits, denied treatment and are actively humiliated and maligned by the Government and the people they fought and bled for.

As we approach Veterans Day keep in mind that freedom isn’t free and some broken old man pushing a shopping cart full of what he might have left in this world, paid the price for all of us who live in this ‘ungrateful nation’.

Not all Veterans are homeless or hopeless, but none should be. The next time you have a meal or use the toilet consider this:
(photo from namguardianangel.org)

UNINSURED VETS: Coverage found limited
About one out of every eight veterans younger than 65 is uninsured, a finding that contradicts the assumption many have that all vets qualify for free health care through the Department of Veterans Affairs, a new study shows.

Researchers at Harvard Medical School projected that about 1.8 million veterans overall lack health coverage. That is an increase of 290,000 since 2000.
The researchers said most uninsured veterans are in the middle class and are ineligible for VA care because of their incomes. Still others cannot afford their co-payments or lack VA facilities in their community. The study is based on an analysis of government surveys released between 1988 and 2005. (UNINSURED VETS Compiled from the Associated Press)


If that doesn't give you a warm fuzzy feeling about our country and how it treats its Citizen Servicemember try this: Returning Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines are being denied the jobs they left to fight for Military Industrialists profits and President Bush's Iraqi Oil.

Here is a Halloween Story that should scare the shit out of you:

Veterans Employment Rights are Ignored

To cut to the chase, at issue hear is that veterans, who left their jobs to fight for a corrupt liar in the White House and his greedy buddies in the Military Industrial Complex, these Veterans can’t get their jobs back when they come home from Iraq or Afghanistan.

The argument is over who is going to both hear their grievances and who will enforce the law regarding Veterans employment.

There are two groups: Department of Labor's Veterans Employment and Training Service (VETS)

These two groups are supposed to report to Congress about what is happening regarding Veterans employment and their resolution of the problem. While they attempt to pass the problem like a hot potato from one agency to another, Veterans loose their jobs, their homes, their wives (or husbands), their kids and their self worth.

In a hearing on Halloween Day the deceivers assembled in Washington to test a lie or testify before an oversight hearing of the Senate Veterans Affairs Committee chaired by Senator Daniel K. Akaka of Hawaii. Here are some excerpts from the minuets of that meeting:

October 31, 2007

WASHINGTON, D.C. - U.S. Senator Daniel K. Akaka (D-HI), Chairman of the Veterans' Affairs Committee, held an oversight hearing today on the Uniformed Services Employment and Reemployment Rights Act, known as USERRA. The Committee questioned panelists on a variety of topics, including jurisdiction over USERRA claims. Chairman Akaka expressed particular concern about the number of USERRA claims being brought by returning servicemembers in connection with their employment in the federal workforce.

"Veterans should not have to fight the government they defended in war just to return to their previous employment," said Akaka.

One witness, Mathew Tully, shared the struggles he faced to return to his old job after serving a tour of duty, describing in detail the issues he faced in regaining his job with the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Mr. Tully, a member of the New York National Guard who was accompanied by his wife and one-year-old son, will deploy shortly to the Middle East for his second tour.

Other witnesses at today's hearing included George H. Stalcup, Director, Strategic Issues, U.S. Government Accountability Office; Honorable Charles S. Ciccolella, Assistant Secretary for Veterans' Employment and Training, U.S. Department of Labor; and Honorable Jim Byrne, Deputy Special Counsel, U.S. Office of Special Counsel, accompanied by Patrick Boulay, Chief, USERRA Unit.

Senator Akaka said in his opening statement:
“As our troops are returning home from battle, many of them seek to return to the jobs that they held prior to their military service, particularly those serving in Guard and Reserve units. USERRA, which is set forth in chapter 43 of title 38, United States Code, provides these servicemembers with certain protections. USERRA also sets out certain responsibilities for employers, including to reemploy returning veterans in their previous jobs.

This applies to virtually all jobs - including those in the federal sector. I must admit to being particularly upset at the volume of USERRA claims related to federal service. It is simply wrong that individuals who were sent to war by their government should, upon their return, be put in the position of having to do battle with that same government in order to regain their jobs and benefits.”

If you know of a Veteran, any Veteran, this current War, Gulf 1, Lebannon/Grenada, Vietnam or earlier, going through difficulty or hardship contact the VA on their behalf and get all the information you can to help them.

Also write your pitifully intransigent Congressman or Congresswoman and request they un-ass that chair they comfortably park their butt in and do something for your local Veterans.

As Veterans Day approaches in this a Veterans Month, I ask that you locate all the Veterans you know of good, bad, rich, poor whether in good health or not and let them know you give a damn about their sacrifice and their existence.


Be a blessing

Love.

RJ

Tour of the Champion (a Review)

This series, Tour of the Champion is a fictional account of what happened to a Marine deployed with the Fleet who was then sent on an unaccompanied tour in the Orient. Part 1 deals with life on base, the realities of separation and some of the drama that goes with being away from a loved one.

The second part of this deals with the double standard, the deployed Marine is part of a male culture that both tolerates and accepts extra sexual behavior outside of marriage. On the other hand the Marine deals with the reality that his wife may be having an affair. He scrambles to find out if there is a way to protect her and get her away from her current setting.

Part 3 deals with the real dirty side of deployment, how women, with few if any resources are manipulated, abused and degraded with little or no recourse to either military or civilian justice. Also noted is that there are Law Enforcement Agencies inside the Military (i.e. CID, Criminal Investigation Division of the U.S. Army, OSI, Office of Special Investigations of the U.S. Air Force and NIS now NCIS, Naval Investigative Service or Naval Criminal Investigative Service of the US Navy and Marine Corps).

Part 4 is coming up and deals with a Marine fighting personal demons, the realization of his Military legacy, his temptation to leave his wife and the final resolution of his pressing problems. Homicidal thoughts along with planning for homicide, self mutilation and other expressions of rage, anger and the onset of depression are dealt with. The series is fictional, the realities described in it are not fictional at all.

The subtopics, subject matter and storyline are decidedly adult themes. Extra-marital sex, bondage and discipline, fetishes, venerial disease, predatory sexual behavior, stalking, sodomy and other deviate behavior. This is not a bedtime story for the kids. Read responsibly as you drink. I hope you drink responsibly.

To read the previous Tour of the Champion posts click on the month of October on the menu on the left and then click on the post you want to read.

Keep reading and pass this on. E-mail it along with the blog address. At the bottom of the post is the “e-mail this” highlight, click and send – its that simple.

R.J.