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| This photo has nothing to do with the blog entry other than as a late reminder to bin Laden that there is nothing like this young lady in Hell |
Don't expect this to make a significant difference in Afghanistan--al Queda isn't a big player there and since the Seals allegedly walked away from the bin Laden raid with a trove of info on that band of shitbirds, they're all probably diving for the nearest cave with all due speed--the president won't need a person to person encounter to prove their demise--a missile up the rectal cavity will do just fine. So, that leaves the Taliban to cast their special brand of love around that lovely latrine pit of a country combined with the current ridiculous rules of engagement that the big thinkers have in place--our guys can't fire at a known terrorist unless he's holding a gun. What a way to run a war--we never learn. In that spirit, all you need to know about Afghanistan can be found in Fraser's first installment of the "Flashman" series--the "nation" is and has been a shithole of historic proportions, solidly resisting moving into the 8th through 20th centuries and into this one in favor of a steady policy of boy and goat rape and keeping their women tied to a plow. Great folks, the Afghans, Pashtans, Dicktans, what have you. Proudly ignorant and secure in the premise that the measure of a man is which hand he wipes his ass with. We can throw every dollar that China lends us into the joint and they'll turn it all into a dung heap within hours of our departure. Not. Worth. A. Single. American. Life. In fact, they are not worthy to clean the cesspools of our military men and women "lucky" enough to draw duty there. Rant over. Think I've included enough scatological references? Probably not.
I'm not sure which is worse--if you're a Democrat having to react to what comes out of Republican Senator Lindsay Graham's mouth, or if you're a Republican having to react to what comes out of Republican Senator Lindsay Graham's mouth. Talk about a loose cannon--his entire staff is probably being treated for irritable bowel syndrome. Also, I like the 19th century term for hemorrhoids--"piles." Also, "consumption" for tuberculosis. I guess dying of consumption with a stiff case of the piles wouldn't be pleasant. Robert E. Lee allegedly had piles and a heart attack at Gettysburg which was bad enough for him but fairly serious for the boys making the ill-fated charge he ordered up Cemetery Ridge on the third day of the battle. Next time I go to the doctor (that seems to be an increasing event) I'm going to indicate "piles" as the complaint when asked by the perky receptionist and just enjoy the reaction. It's the small things that make life worth living.
We have an owl box in our backyard and a screech owl is in there sitting on her nest. She tends to stick her head out and look at me when I'm doing some chore or just sitting on the patio with a drink. She doesn't seem to mind me--I make far fewer sudden movements now than when I was in my twenties (or thirties or forties) unless of course I'm engaged in some violent act related to an appliance. She also watches our dog with a mixture of amusement and contempt, no doubt wishing she was part of a larger owl species or an eagle or something. Then, she would be eying dinner.
I've been watching various HBO series on the Time Warner "On Demand" channel. Fun to watch them back to back. Lately, it's been "Entourage" which fairly skewers Hollywood types and the place as a whole. Jeremy Pivin as "Ari Gold" is gold, Jerry, gold! Also, watched a couple of excellent documentaries on mega-producers, Jerry Weintraub and Robert Evans.
Spent the Easter weekend at South Padre, along with the entire state of Nuevo Leon--Monterrey owns most of the island and they were there in force during Semana Santa--the weeks before and after Easter Sunday. We were there late Thursday night ahead of the rush; Friday and Saturday afternoon trips from Port Isabel across the causeway took two and three hours. The shrewd minds running the road crews down there thought it would be a smashing idea to conduct routine painting along the guardrails DURING THE BUSIEST THREE DAYS OF THE YEAR, reducing the trip across to the island to one lane. Outstanding, Red Team, outstanding! It was a real cluster which meant it kept my sorry ass from visiting the Wal-Mart in Port Isabel or buying a kite or something. Wade fished the Laguna Madre with my ace fishing brother in law and daughter No. 2 and was delighted to watch her skunk both of us. It sort of hit home--I immediately recalled the thrill my old man would get when I would hook on to something big and wondered then why he didn't seem to get the same sense of enjoyment when he, himself caught something. She had that same look of wonder and amusement of why I was more excited netting her fish than she was catching them. Now, I know. Life marches on.
