Smoke on the Water

Becalmed

It is the nemisis of many a sailor.

And, of many a blogger, too.

The state of motionlessness, in the face of every preperation, action and effort to the contrary.

Becalmed.

Whether it be upon the Sargasso Sea, or on the waveless, windless blogosphere, the accursed langour besets the finest of vessels and sailors.

And, bloggers.

Such has been my state, lo, these past few weeks.

And, while my ship has layed dormant, rocking imperceptably with the groundswell of distant storms, she has made no distance-made-good o'er the seabed below.

In reality, I lie here tied to the pier, powerless, motionless; I make no way under nether power or sail. Yet, my voyages through the net range far, and wide.

Yet, there lies no wake behind my boat, nor, my blog.

I see this in the calmness of water 'round my keel, and in the stillness of the stats and referers on my site.

Such is the state of vessels on the hard.

Upon land, the graceful sloop stands awkward on her tripods, awaiting the scathing attention of scrapers, water-blasters and other such crudities to be applied to her hull.

Similarly, this blog, recovering from laptop-ness, languishes upon the rocks of a sixty-hour week, the slumbers of the weary; the sleep of the just.

As with a ship upon a windless sea, the Sloop New Dawn has ridden upon the waters of the internet. Becalmed; a mere passenger on the waves of distant storms and squalls.

Yet, the faintest breath of wind ruffles her sails. Hope, aboard this frail craft, is as strong as a Dacron sail and a Nylon line....and that fresh wind brings new life to the sails, the heart...... to my very soul.

Ships, writers, and blogs, ride proud upon tempestuous seas. Yet, the Sloop New Dawn carves her course.

Though she may founder, she will not sink.

Nor, will I.

A Soldier Reports

Fair warning.

Do not read this at your desk at work. Your co-workers will wonder what's got you crying in the middle of the day.

From Blackfive's site, and here's his introduction to the article. Given that one cannot improve upon perfection, I've copied it here for you:

The following is Marine Lieutenant Colonel Strobl's account of escorting the remains of Lance Corporal Chance Phelps. It's a long and beautifully written and it deserves to be read in it's entirety. It's about Valor, Honor and Respect. Thanks to Jarhead Dad for sending it to me.

You'll have some idea of the importance and impact Lt. Col. Stobl's report, when you let this small fact sink in; .....My link to the story is the seventy-third trackback to Blackfive's post. No. Not seventy-three comments... that's seventy-three other blogs who have refered their readers to this account.

Incredibly powerful, and moving.

Thanks to Matt (Blackfive) for the post.

And eternal gratitude to Lance Corporal Chance, his family, and the people of his hometown.

May we ever honor their sacrafice.

Tony Blankley Writes

And writes well. Damned well, in fact.

Tell me if this doesn't just about encapsulate the entire Kerry campgain in a single paragraph?

It would appear that John Kerry is running for president for the same reason that chickens cross to the other side of the street: just to get there. Can anyone, including Mr. Kerry, state in one sentence why he wants to be president? Usually, presidential aspirants at least fake some intense sense of mission.

Frankly, if Kerry were to be honest, the theme of his campaign would be "Anybody but Bush, and I'm all we could come up with!"

He's not a moron, but he sure as hell is a schmuck!

Read the article.....and read it through to the last paragraph.... that's the money-line, for sure.

Thanks to Jewish World Review for the find.

Fed Up

No, Federal Express and United Parcel Service have not joined in a corporate merger.

That's not the kind of Fed Up to which I refer.

Frankly, I wish it were.

No, I'm talking about the body politic. Or, rather, the corpus politic, if you will.

Telegraphed Punch

I wish I had a bit of time to do a bit of research into more writings of one Ms. Janet Daley. A quality mind, driving a razor sharp keyboard..........and she's one of the good guys, to boot!

Her magnificent piece in London's Telegraph is perhaps word for word, the most clearly written, quietly powerful take on the pure evil of the modern Islamic jihadist mindset that I've had the pleasure to read.

This is not politics as we know it. It is not war - or even terrorism as an act of war - as we have previously understood it. It is a kind of mystical nihilism. Defeating it is going to take all of the organised energy and commitment that the rich, decadent West can muster. It will also involve quite a few concessions with what we regard as our ancient freedoms. But that's how it is. The right to live is not just the most important entitlement in a free society: it is the one on which all the other rights are predicated. There are no civil liberties in the grave.

Although I tend to disagree with her conclusion, (I think Al Queda is merely trying to buy time, and not reconsidering their jihad on the Western world as a whole.), the preceeding 98% of her article is simply right in the X ring.

Hat tip to NewsMax for the find.

Writer's Block

How appropriate that my 200th post is barely a post at all?

My new job is progressing nicely. Although in the bottom 1/4 of the rankings in terms of units sold, I'm #2 in the organization in gross profits, and in total commissions.

Some of them have been there eight years....I've not yet been there eight weeks.

I don't understand why some people think they have to virtually give the product away to make a sale. Amazing.

Now then. I've been working 12 hour days, six days a week. I come home, get caught up on my reading of news and blogs, and find myself utterly tapped out. At the end of a day, there's really not much to add to what all's been said in the 'sphere all through the day.

So, I haven't, at least not in a few days.

Plus, I've had a friend and family both in the hospital in the past week. I've sat in the ER for five hours, and I've waited by the phone to hear from my Dad, who once again spent a few days in ICU and is now home again.

All in all, it has been a tumultuous week. Oddly though, I have the sense that the corner has been turned. I'm sure there are more struggles ahead, but I sense a focus and resolution that's been lacking.

I have it in me to write more, and I will.

From Darkness to Light

Let me say this right up front, y'all. Thanks to Mike at Cold Fury for finding and linking to the powerful, thoughtful piece you're about to read. And that newer layout at Cold Fury not only looks great, it loads faster now, too!

I've read this through this morning, twice. When I get to work, I'm going to print it out and leave it laying on a few carefully chosen desks. Never pass up a chance to bring another soon-to-be former Donk in from the dark side.

Here now. Even though I've chosen this particual paragraph to tease the article, trust me on this....the rest is just as good, if not better.

But that was then and this is now. Now I have come to the place where the whole sorry spectacle and circus of the Democrats over the last year has finally angered me. The party whose ideals once excited me has become a parody of itself, a dangerous parody. Instead of inspriation it delivers either numbing boredom or sheer despair at its intellectual and spiritual poverty. Instead of telling us what sort of New Jerusalem it would have us build as our City on the Hill, it takes us into the slums of the soul. Instead of waving the bright banners of how, it dons the rags and bones of defeatism and appeasement. Instead of leading the parade, it wants to make us content with following after the elephants with a shovel and a wheelbarrow. When it needs to supply us with someone to believe in, to follow, to admire and to trust, it offers up John F. Kerry and his rollicking side-kick Ted Kennedy. It’s like after sitting through the long and tedious circus of the primaries, the Party went out and chose Emmett Kelly; the saddest clown of them all.

Go read the whole thing, as the saying goes.

A Precursor of Perfidy

So, you think JFK was a good role model for JFK?

That's John Fitzgerald Kennedy serving as the supposed mold for John Fucking Kerry. Well, Mr. Humberto Fontova has slaughtered that sacred cow in this magificent article on the screen of NewsMax.

The fighting admiral was livid, pleading for permission to allow just two of his jets to blaze off the carrier deck and support the desperately embattled Brigade on that heroic beachhead.

"Burke, we can't get involved in this," replied Mr. Wonderful.

"WE put those boys there, Mr. President!" the fighting admiral exploded. "By God, we ARE involved!"'

Interesting match here. In one corner, the man who blasted half the Imperial Japanese fleet to fiery rubble and sent it to the bottom of the Pacific at the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

In the other, the man who managed to get his PT boat Karate-chopped in half by a Japanese destroyer, a feat of nautical ingenuity that still has naval men scratching their heads – and one that almost got him court-martialed. Only some heavy political pressure saved Mr. Wonderful in 1944.

Right. Kerry invokes Kennedy. Got it. The seeds of the lies are indeed planted deep.

And we dare not let that weed take root.

Andy Bin Rooney der Al Falujah

Vein popping, neck bulging rage! Bring on the tar and feathers, ready the stocks and rotten fruits.

Lock this asshole into the stocks in the town square, as it were, slathering him with scaling tar from head to toe. With a bushel of feathers dumped on his smoldering, corpulent whaleness, let the heaving of fruit begin, accompanied by cries of derision, taunts and curses from one and all, from young and old, alike.

I hate seldom, but I hate Andy Rooeney with a white-hot passion and fire... a fire which leaves ice in my veins, and not a humane thought towards this festering pusshole of liberalism on the left.

To me, he is absolutely no better than Osama himself.

This, today, from the traitorous Rooney in the Buffalo News. The Opinion Page, to be precise.

Our soldiers in Iraq aren't heroes

By ANDY ROONEY

Well, there's your first traitorous, slanderous spew of slime from that Jabba the Huttite piece of journalistic diharrea. Way to go, Andy sure knows how to declare his emnity of all that's good and decent right in his first sentence.

The asshole could have just published that headline under his name and saved himself the digging of his own professional grave. But wait, there's more!

Grab your barf bags, get any small children and those offended by foul language out of the room.

This isn't gonna be pretty. Not by a long shot.

[UPDATE! Turns out, Sir George Turner blogged it hours earlier, followed by Misha's powerful take on the subject. And we three are amazingly similar, but I assure you, I'd not seen either of 'em before posting mine. Amazing coincidence, or proof that the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy really exists? Only tinfoil hat-weariing leftist liberal lunatics know for sure?]

.........okay, y'all keep reading now!

This One's On Me

Do you remember the lunatic left's failed attempt to get traction with the "Bush was AWOL" tripe about six or seven weeks back?

Thousands of pages from news sites, opinion articles and weblogs were posted. Hundreds and hundreds of newspaper articles, and surely dozens of TV and radio features all came from those baseless charges.

Someone who most assuredly wasn't AWOL was George Bush's squadron mate, Col. William Campenni, (ret.)

Col. Campenni's article in The Washington Times was a key point in disproving the whole "AWOL" line of crap which was the left's dearest hope to pin on President Bush.

I featured his letter in my post "Check Six, Break Right!" It seems to have resonated out there....you see, the good Colonel came across it via a google search, and sent me a very kind e-mail, inquiring as to when I'd stand for that drink.

I had the pleasure of a brief, but very pleasant phone conversation with him on the phone this morning. He used to live just a few miles from Galveston, and knows the region quite well.

For all the hell I've gone through these past few weeks, and for all the time struggling to write something worthy of posting here.......

....once again, it proves to be worth it.

This time, in spades.

And yes, the next time he's in town, I'm buying. And I'm looking forward to the honor of so doing.

You can count on it, Colonel.

A Mollbot Mauling

Nothing like a brisk fisking to go with my morning coffee. Don't you love it when your friendly local lunatic Senator gets their mailing lists crossed?

I was heartened to see a report on jobs in March that showed that 300,000 jobs were created last month.

No you weren't. You were scared shitless.

The Mollbot does! Read the whole thing.

The Wisdom of Bill

In linking to Bill Whittle's essay on courage in the predeeding post, I discovered that he'd written on the very topic I was laboring to express in what was to have been the (this), the subsequent post.

And in his usual fashion, utterly blew my best efforts into the weeds. I therefore defer to the power of his pen, and urge you to log off of my blog at once, dedicating your next fifteen minutes to gaining a better understanding of why you, me; all of us, need to keep our.....

Chin Up!

If Anyone Can, It's Rutan

I'm working on a longer post, but this caught my eye.

WASHINGTON (AP) - The government announced Wednesday that it has issued the first license for a manned suborbital rocket, a step toward opening space flight to private individuals for the first time.

The Federal Aviation Administration gave a one-year license to Scaled Composites of Mojave, Calif., headed by Burt Rutan. Rutan, who hopes to make affordable space travel a reality in a decade, is best known for designing the Voyager airplane that made the first nonstop, unrefueled flight around the world in 1986.

You should read it all.

Here's why.

This isn't just about the accomplishment. It's more than the flight, it's about the spirit.

It is about America, and our greatness as a Nation and as a People. And, it is people like Burt Rutan and his visionary designs and incredible achievements who set us apart from "them".

We are a superior cuture. No, not a race; a culture. A People. United not by blood, race, religion or creed but by the simple idea that the individual is sovereign, in freedom, liberty and in the pursuit of his dreams.

No nation in history compares.

I defer to the incomparable Bill Whittle. If you've not read his incredibly powerful essay on courage, well, now is the time.

A Day Late

But not quite a dollar short.

Late Monday, I succeeded in getting the new 'puter hooked up and running here on the boat. It works, but it sucks.

My wee navigation station was not designed to accomodate a 15" glass-tube monitor. My keyboard sits at a forty-five degree angle off of the front edge of the desk, and the CPU is completely in the way on the companionway sole which divides the main cabin from the master berth, aft.

The good news though, is that I'm online here again. I'd rather type sideways than not at all!

'Puter access at work is still minimal, but I'm working to rectify that. At least, when I get home from the office this evening, I'll be able to sit down with y'all and catch up with a few things.

There is a whole lot going on in this world, and in the blogosphere. I've been reading voraciously, and I'm truly looking forward to diving back into the fray.

One thing I'll vow with my very blood. John Fucking Kerry must not be allowed anywhere near the reins of power in this republic. Ever.

More on that, later.

Two Score and Six

The month of April is not usually a warm one in San Diego, California. I suppose that the skies were grey and the nights gloomy with fog and chill.

April nights are often like that there. The cold Alaska current slides unhurriedly South, bringing balance to the otherwise unchecked warmth of California sunshine. On sunny days there, one can often feel the eddies of air warmed over the mesas and in the valleys, mixing with cool breezes coming in off of the water.

Sholy Hit !

I am not as think as you drunk I am.

Okay, I am.

Marker's Make strikes again.
Here's the scoop.

The 'puter that my Dad sent to me is kaput. It is as dead as my last two marriages. But then, I've only been married twice.

Hope springs eternal.