Tom Cruise

Rarely any more do I like or even think about Tom Cruise. I remember him when he was in the movie "Taps" (for obvious reasons.) Then of course in Top Gun and the Color of Money. Rain Man was ok, but after that, I have a hard time thinking of anything that I have liked him in. Mission: Impossible he was ok in, but they screwed with the people-of course I can put that off as perhaps "Mr. Phelps" was just the name-like the Dread Pirate Roberts. Anyway, I digress.

I saw a pre-view for an upcoming movie that he is and I must say, I do want to see it. And I think this is the part that he was made to play. An action hero/comedy. I mean come on... Cruise is comedic action at best so what better foil. Here is the description:

An action-comedy centered on a fugitive couple (Cruise and Diaz) on a glamorous and sometimes deadly adventure where nothing and no one – even themselves – are what they seem. Amid shifting alliances and unexpected betrayals, they race across the globe, with their survival ultimately hinging on the battle of truth vs. trust.

Its called Knight and Day. And I do want to see it, so much I will probably spring the money to see it in the theater  I just hope I am not disappointed.

Blake's 7

I accidentally found B7 when I was in college looking for Dr. Who. I had never seen Dr Who at the time and someone told me it was on cable from a TV station out of St Louis on Saturday nite, late. So as I was flipping around the stations, I found the BBC trademark 'look,' heard the accents and figured I was watching Dr. Who. I liked what I was watching. Little did I realize it was B7.

Luckily I had a friend in St. L and she recorded all the episodes for me (she was B7 fanatic also) and when I would go to Cons I would look for merchandise. Even to the point of having buttons made with quotes from there (sorry Red Shirt Society, but the quote: I'm not expendable, I'm not stupid and I'm not going, was on B7 long before you got a hold of it.

And I like many B7 fans do not take what happened at the end as the final word. Just like many of us, we have our own ideas.

I can't explain what B7 was to anyone not really familiar. Needless to say it was the BBC's answer to Star Trek in the 80's. The Federation was not the good guys, and in some ways it was similar to Star Wars in that rebels were the heroes.

I loved this show. The stories, characters and lines, were well done.


"Teleport now Orac."

Day 361 - Oral Roberts & Robert G. Heft

Oral Roberts passed away in 2009. I just wanted to make sure people remember that he passed in 2009 verse those who will only remember Michael Jackson. Hey, I will give Michael his due. He was a musician, dancer, and a person in trouble with the law for many things.

But Oral Roberts was man who brought God to millions of people. He established learning centers and medical centers. Were they perfect? No. But even though Roberts' lifestyle, unorthodox fund-raising techniques, and the expanse of his organizations raised criticism and controversy, there was no credible evidence of malfeasance while he was in charge. He did not have sex-and-money scandals like some other televangelists. And he was not named among the six prosperity teachers in the financial investigations launched by Sen. Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) in 2007. Was he perfect? I am sure not. But compared to many others he was the one who helped them accept God. As I prayed at the Christmas eve services where I was at, my thoughts were not on music or some pop icon. But of times past where I felt at peace-and at those times I thought I knew God. So compared to some pop icon who many thought of as a god or someone who spent all their life trying to bring God to others; I'll go with Oral Roberts.

Another person that I would bet money that most people have never heard of, and who also passed away in 2009 was Robert G. Heft. He is credited with designing and sewing the first 50-star American flag. he was 67.

Heft made the flag in 1958 as part of a high school project. He spent more than 12 hours sewing the design. President Eisenhower chose Heft's design to replace the 48 star flag.

Think about that. Someone submitted a design and the president choose it to replace the old one, as we need a new one. And it was. How simple was that? And how elegant. Now a days that would never happen. Both political parties would HAVE to be involved and it would take years. Scandals would rock the committees, bribes for consideration and then where would it be made; probably in China.

And yet there was a time that one American man designed the flag that flies from our flag poles. And there was a time when the president made the decision and it was not second guessed or had that he had to jump through hopes to get it done.

While I don't know the mess that something like that would cause to day, I would like us to take time to remember someone who made an impact almost 52 years ago. Thank you. Mr. Heft.

God bless Oral Roberts and Robert Heft.

Day 357 - Dollhouse Has Jumped the Shark or has Failed, or whatever, IMO

As one who does like Josh Whedon, (Firefly!) and the Dollhouse had great promise. And the first season or so was great. But as the story has unfolded, it has gone... where no man has gone before. It doesn't know what it is I think. Emprinting people is great; as then you can have episodes like in the beginning, with the FBI Profiler. Then the sex thing got in the way. Then conspiracy. Then the intro to Ballard. Alpha was great as he was the one pulling the strings-and of course someone from Firefly, and then more and more guest stars like them. But now... Echo is the Shuper Soldier.. after a while its no fun watching someone who can do everything. It was good when she could be anyone from a computer program. And I was going to get used to her switching from one personae to another. But all this talk about freeing the dolls. Unless I missed something, these people are volunteers, who knew what they were getting into.

To me that's like saying I want to free the people in the US Army. They knew what they were getting into to. (Gee, did I just sound like Obama?) But I mean it as; they are a group of people, doing something they volunteered for. They don't need to be freed. Why is Echo getting her panties in an uproar? Have they kidnapped anyone and forced them...not that I have seen.. yet. But the big bad cooperation is up to no good.

Ok, this is one of the reason that Lost, lost me. I tried watching Heroes, even with the cute cheerleader... nope. And Flash Forward... left me in pause. I don't know if Whedon is doing this on purpose or what. Firefly was great and then Fox cancelled it. Space, Above and Beyond was also great. Why do people screw with things? They brought back FF as a movie and of course had to kill some of the characters. What, SAAB was sensationalizing war? Better to have military heroes than the Hollywood rock stars, talking mouths hypocrites and steroid popping, womanizing athletes. Unless any of those people lay down their lives for people they don't know, I don't want to hear it. In old Hollywood, you had actors who joined the military and fought with honor. Now adays, there are a few who served, but you don't hear about them as they don't want to be ostracised by the rest of the left wing of Follywood. The only way I can express my displeasure with those people is NOT to see any movie like that. My $10 won't go into their pocket. And while it may not make a different, at least I feel better.

So, in closing to Josh...bring back the old Dollhouse-this conspiracy is getting a bit much. If the corporation truly wanted to protect itself, it would just eliminate those problem people. And if it has that much power, with houses all over and politicians and govt officials in their pocket, do they (Echo & Co.) think they can free their house? Better to try and use their house for good within the system than make an enemy, especially when you have Alpha out there. The British bitch... IF she has gone over to the dark side, which, unless she gets off on pain has, should have been eliminated. But of course, better the devil you know. I don't see why they just didn't take her, brain wipe her and program her to help. If she was drunk, she wouldn't know the difference. And since she was obviously NOT on their side; sorry. I am loosing interest in the Dollhouse fast. And I would like to know what happened to the doctor. She just took off, and no one seems that upset. Wow. Talk about double standards. She was an Active AND a member of the Dollhouse staff and no one has tried to find her. Hmmmm. Plot hole.

So instead of being part of those who watch it on network/cable/satellite... I will just watch it on Hulu. Don't know if Hulu tracks how many times its accessed, but I can live with that.

Belushi

I found this online, they were talking about the 7 SNL stars that died too young. I thought this about Belushi was very true.


"One thing that a lot of people forget about John Belushi is that he is the only person in America ever to be:
1) On the number 1 album (Briefcase Full of Blues)
2) In the number 1 movie (Animal House)
3) On the highest rated late night TV show (Saturday Night Live)
all at the same time, that was on his 30th birthday in 1979. He was the biggest thing in America that year, he was so famous he could literally waive a passing police car and catch a ride like his own personal taxi service."

So true.

R.I.P. John. Hope you are making God smile.

Day 356 - AVATAR

Like I did with the new Star Trek movie, I said I wouldn't see it. But because I am a Trekkie, in a Star trek group and other factors, as Bryan gave me the dvd, I did watch it. How else could I discuss the points I did in a previous post. Avatar is another I won't go and see. Its another "the Bad Humans come in to take over a planet from the peace loving natives for a big, bad corporation."

I read a very interesting article and the responses on how this is a white film concerning the way that the whites treated 'fill in the blank' minority. I don't look at it as a color issue, but as a testimony about mankind. One of the rebuttal in that article I read was very well thought out, that I copied it, so let me paste a snip from it here:

"What is almost completely ignored is that there was little concept of private property, rule of law, justice, and freedom (including freedom from violence) among *nomadic* native tribes. Addressed even less are these tribes' barbaric practices -- cruel rites of passage, slavery, rape, murder, human sacrifice, mutilation as punishment for criminals, abandonment of the weak, torture, cannibalism, "knowledge" and "wisdom" obtained with hallucinogens, and severe punishment of anyone that demonstrated individuality, reason, or disobedience to the authority of witch-doctors. These attributes didn't suddenly vanish when white people showed up.

The initiative destruction of native peoples by settlers occurred, but very infrequently. In more instances than not, colonists attempted to trade with the natives -- i.e. tried to treat them as equals -- bringing modern technology, conveniences, and Enlightenment ideas in exchange for being allowed to establish towns -- and they were rewarded with unprovoked, brutal, bloody raids BY these natives.

This isn't "white perspective" or even "racism": it's simple historical fact. I absolutely do not condone any form of racism, slavery, genocide, colonialism, Manifest Destiny and the lot -- it's as barbaric in nature as the savages were. I'm not implying that that *all* natives (certainly not their modern descendants) remained savage, nor does it imply that *all* settlers and expansionists were peaceful, Enlightened victims.

Yet, I won't fall for revisionist history and the moral recrimination of centuries-dead Europeans, and I won't be suckered into believing in the archetypal "noble savage" (which is as obvious an oxymoron as they get).

So for once, I'd like to see a "spin" on the "white/human goes native/alien" story:

A MODERN human (his/her race being completely unimportant) enters a SAVAGE alien society, and demonstrates the value of a civilized technological culture that arose by abandoning barbarism. The film ends with the savages doing likewise, living the longer, healthier, more productive, more comfortable, and ultimately happier lives that can only result when superstition and primitivism are abolished and science and reason embraced."

There were similes about this being like "Dances With Wolves" and that Tom Cruise movie "American Samurai" or something like that.

Sorry...not falling for that. Nor will I see this movie...unless, like before, someone gives me the dvd. And even then I would consider it. I am one of these people that hate hypocrites, so I walk a fine line I know.

Also, I have finally figure out the difference between someone who is into sci fi and fantasy verses someone who just enjoys it. Someone who just enjoys it would say, "Its just a movie." Those who are truely into sci-fi/fantasy would start looking at it with perspective. Just like any sport fan would do with any sports movie that didn't accurately portray their sport. But on the same token, anymore politics can't seem to stay out of movies... even comedy's like "Did You Hear About The Morgans." The comment that Sarah Jessica Parker makes about the Sheriff's wife when she is handlin a shotgun, "Its Sarah Pallen." Typical Hollywood stabs.

So in closing, speaking just for me... I won't see it. I have my reasons, don't try and change me. I thought it was gonna be good, especially when I heard that Sigourney Weaver was going to be in it. Oh, well. I will always have Alien and Aliens... Aliens 3.. not the best. JMO.

Day 355 - Shorewood vs Shorecrest

I saw this article about two competing schools making viral videos and posting them. OMG, those schools have some great talent! I only wish we had that when I was in school; of course I can only imagine what we would have turned out. But these kids did a fantastic job. Especially the one that was filmed in reverse and then run backward. Truly amazing. The kid directors should use these as part of their resumes.

And like the article said, this is a refreshing take when all you hear about is sextexting and cyberbullying. These two schools are pretty good models for just fun things to do. Much applause and awards should go to them. Hopefully many schools will follow suit.

Day 354 - NEW STAR TREK MOVIE REVIEW

My Secret Santa at work gave me the new Star Trek dvd as a present as he knew I hadn't seen it and wouldn't buy it for myself (Thanks Bryan!) And I just watched it. All I can say is: Its a great space movie, almost reminds me of Star Trek. By considering this as an alternative universe... and I mean that from the get-go, I liked it. But, let me tell you what I didn't like and then I will go into what I did.

-The actor who they had playing Spock. I have seen people looking more like Spock at sci-fi conventions than he did. Not a good fit for that character.
-Pull over 'citizen.' Wow, Robocop.
-Pike was the CO of the Enterprise for the first 5 years. If not, then that negates The Menagerie (the pilot). So, like I said, this is some way funky universe.
-You don't complete the Academy in less than 4 years ( I mean that as he commented that he would finnish in 3.. not if they were going on a war footing)... ask anyone from West Point, Annapolis, if they could graduate early. Also, get a command in 8 years??? PLEASE.
-They were building the Enterprise on the ground and not in a space dock... and in Iowa? I don't recall there being a satellite campus there. What was Starfleet doing there?
-Spock shooting Kirk in an escape pod? The brig yes, off the ship in a combat situation? No.
-Delta Vega was the planet that Gary Mitchell fought Kirk on in the 2nd episode. And it was no where near Vulcan. It was near the edge of our universe. So they have their maps wrong.
-The Orion chick Kirk was making out with. Again, nice looking lady, but I have seen more believable ones at Cons. Also, while I think it was kinda hot, I have never seen a red haired Orion.
-Chekov... 17 years old... talk about OTJ. Sorry... not buying that either.
-Scotty seemed a little too happy at times when I wouldn't think he should be.
-I ain't never seen a Romulan ship look like some dam squid. They were always bird of prey.
-Another thing... this Next Generation is always trying to make the Romulans the bad guys and the Klingons have honor. I think you had better go back and look at the original series. Other way around. The Romulans had honor and the Klingons didn't and yeah, I'll fight any Klingon warrior as lets just pull out the facts first.
-What the hell was that thing with Scotty? In the next movie, if they keep doing this, please... NOOOO.
-The Kelvin had families? Didn't know it was an early Enterprise with families. Maybe she was a pregnant Fleet officer and I missed that. I just never recalled that Kirk's mom was in Fleet.
-Kobayashi Maru test... don't even get me started. I liked the one in the books better where he does reprogram the computer, but when he introduces himself, the Klingons are afraid of the famous Capt. Kirk. I think that would have played better.


**and even though its how I might have ended it... for Spock to just let Nero die and even Kirk go along with him... I don't know. I guess I am thinking back to the original where they woudl beam him off and make him stand trial. So maybe this is a more of a neutral observation.


Ok, now the good points.

+Thats the first time I have ever heard "Live long and Prosper" as almost an insult. AND The Old Spock telling his young self 'since it would be self-serving to say his usual farewell....' Ok, those were just too cool.
+I liked that Uhura and Spock love thing. That was good.
+Scotty looked like Scotty. And had a few Scotty lines.
+McCoy acted like McCoy. And he had a few McCoy lines.
+Sulu and his sword.. I had actually written about a sword that did that. And I hadn't seen that part yet. Kudos.
+I'll give the actor who played Kirk his due: he did ok playing him. Especially in some of the fight scenes.
+Uhura. Liked her. A little long in the hair, but acceptable.
+Not bad on the look of the Enterprise. Better on the outside than the inside. I think it was bigger insode than out, but its ok. I know that my old Chief Fabrications Officer is having kittens AND puppies though.

J.J. Abrams, normally I wouldn't Monday morning quarterback, except when you screw with my heroes. I don't care what you said about having a feel for Trek or anything else. I have seen better web movies that use people who also didn't look like Kirk, Spock & McCoy but kept the 'Feel' of Trek. This was just like the first Star Trek movie where they tried to put all the episodes into one movie. Is that what you did? Then that means the second one of these will be much better. I hope so.

As one possibility to an alternate reality concerning Trek: this is a fine movie. But this is NOT my Star Trek.

On a scale:

5 worth seeing at the movies, full price!
4 worth seeing at the movies, matinee
3 worth renting the video
2 if someone gives you the dvd
1 borrow the dvd or wait to see it on TV

I would rate this about a 2.5

Day 352 - Movies

Alright, I rented some movies this weekend. I did pretty good on what I chose. Although I was a bit disappointed with some and met my expectations with others.

Angels & Demons. Great movie, but not as good as Da Vinci. Still, very good as I was still wondering right to the end. I am glad that the Illumniati was;t really attacking them. Even though the Illuminati doesn't exist (yeah right). So, a good choice.

Funny People. Love Adam Sandler. I have learned that Seth Rogen, while alot of this generation might like him, I don't really. I have tried. Tried. Knocked up...ugh. Superbad....ugh. Pineapple Express (never saw except a part in passing a tv when it was on)....ugh. Zack & Miri....just a little better than ugh. This was not one of the better Adam Sandler one. I liked Bedtimes Stories. I think thats what he should stick with. Just my opinion.But I still like him.

Goods. Love it! Jeremy Piven, love him. Knew it when I saw him in PCU. Ok, never seen Entourage, and I don't want to, as I want to keep liking him.

Night at the Museum 2. Very good. Not as good as I was hoping, but not bad either. Not as good as the first, but still a good one.

The Ugly Truth. Love it! Gerard Butler. Katherinie Heigel. Great movie, good date movie.

Day - 341 Another Old Lang Syne

It seems that the song by Dan Fogelberg, Same Old Lang Syne, 1981, is a Christmas song. I have no problem with that at all, as it is one of my favorites. I remember hearing it in the Club Room at Kemper. It takes me back. This song truly does. I will always equate this song with that. I don't know why. I just do, and I can see, in my mind's eye, the Club Room, the people, the smell, the FEELING. And a pleasurable ache starts in my heart.

Day 340 - Series on Hulu "What About Brian"

Ok, there are times when you unexpectedly get hook on, lets be honest; its a late night soap opera. The characters drew me in-as the sister from "Chuck: was on this. Right before she did Chuck. And shes playing a doctor. Also, one of the guys in "Band of Brothers." AND Hulu had the pilot and all the episodes on. I hate trying to figure things out without watching all the previous ones.

I loved the love triangle, the unrequited love the stupid and funny things. As I have seen it all, been in it and understand. Even to where the guys say they wouldn't let a woman come between them. Even after she does, and they both fight, they come back to their friendship. Which always prove that friendships last even if relationship's don't.

I also loved that the lawyer fell in love, and married the stripper. I just wish they had let it work out, EVEN after Marjorie returned.

On a different note-went to KC on Saturday and saw Robert, Anne and Jeff. A very small but fun time for the Federation Legion. Those trips to KC mean so much to me, especially during the holidays and at night. I have so many good memories of that. I remember, mom or dad pointing out the KC skyline. I didn't understand and never saw what they were talking about. As it was never explained to me that a skyline was the buildings in the distance. I don't know how long it was before I understood that.

Another thing I finally understood-I am NOT a fixer-upper. I am an old house that has had some modifications and a few needed renovations. But I don't need to be fixed. I hope any woman who might come into my sphere of influence understands that. I also hope that she is strong and defensive for me. Not that I need it. I guess its more that I want someone who would fight for me, even though I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.

But I honestly don't think I have to worry. I do truly believe that I am not 'entitled'. I am paying for everything I had before and for the luck in other areas now. The payment is the lack of a relationship with a woman; something I have always wanted. As much as wanting to be a soldier.

Its a shame I couldn't be happy with the 'simple' things. I used that simple to mean not what I have had, what I am, or anything about the way I am now. If I could just find more than a passing interest in sports. With a few exception concerning sports (KC Royals, Chiefs and MU Tiger football) I have less than 0 interest in sports in general. I look at the guys who are passionate about all sports as the same way I am passionate about all military history and most military movies.

"Snoopy vs the Red Baron Christmas Song" just came on. Love that song-as it shows the honor you have to an esteemed enemy. Kinda like Jackie Gleason's character in the the last Smokey & the Bandit movie, which Burt Reynolds only had the cameo at the end. Where the Bandit went on about all the things that Gleason could now do, because he had been caught. He then said, "I"ll give you a 5 minute head start." There are times when you build everything around something, and then when it comes to an end you are lost. My goodness, how many times has that happened to me in the last 27 years? Lets see: graduating Kemper. Dad dying. Selling the Cheshire Cat. getting married the 1st time. The whole fight for my birthright/farm. Divorce. My second marriage. Different jobs. Mom dying. Opening the 2nd Cat. Opening the B & B. Closing the Cat. Divorcing. Closing the B & B foreclosure. Selling the other house in Boonville. New job with the Missourian. Moving to Columbia. Then downsizing from my apartment to a room.

I don't consider being disowned by mother as I view that as: A) She was under undue influence. B) And that side of the family...well, I am a Herring. That's Dad side. The Herring Homeplace - Fairview Stockfarm. I have come to grips with that. As I recently told a pastor, I have forgiven my mother, my ex's, the neighbors, mom's family, etc. But like my favorite saying, "Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it."

Such a lead in - as this is the anniversary of the bombiong of Pearl Harbor. Lets always remember what happened and the people lost on both sides. I remember when I was in Honolulu at the Ariznoia memorila, there were some Japaense there, and possibly one of the older gentleman may have even particpated. They came to see and proabbly pay their respects. Those who never wore a uniform can't understand and I know my words won't enlighten. So let me just say; remember Devemeber 7th, the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Day - 324 - Christmas thoughts

Christmas is here. Ok, its not yet, but you couldn't tell that form the stores, Christmas carols on the radio and the lights. People are complaining that Christmas gets here sooner and sooner. We haven't even had Thanksgiving. Part of me understands the commercialization. But I just had a thought. Perhaps its because people (not the businesses) want Christmas here sooner because we are nicer, the air is cleaner and things just seem better around the holidays.

I know, I know... the craziness, the commercialization, the hectic shopping, etc etc etc. But think about it. We do try and be nicer around this time. And the time seems to get longer and longer. Perhaps people want Christmas all year round. That special feeling. Too bad we can't feel like that all year.

Day - 321

It is what we learn after what we think we know it all, that counts. John Wooden

Foxx & Dempsey

I have always liked Jamie Foxx... and I do want to see "Law Abiding Citizen." I just hate that he is the 'bad' guy in this. But in this case, I guess it is suppose to show he versatility. Which is fine. I have always said about vigilante, if you do it, and get caught, you have no one to blame but yourself. Still, I want to see the movie, even though I know the good guy/little guy doesn't win in the end. I mean this is Hollywood. They would never let that happen.

And Patrick Dempsey, I used to like. Especially when I saw him in "Can't By Me Love." But then he went to Grey's Anatomy and that one Disney movie, where he got Cinderella from Prince Charming. I don't care, even Disney.. you screw with my fairy tales I will not watch.

More...

In one success a thousand failures lie forgotten...In one refusal to try, a thousand successes may prematurely die.


All things bright and beautiful
all creatures great and small,
all things wide and wonderful
the Lord God made them all.

Rules, rules, rules

Conquer your own weakness and fears rather than others.

Learn from your mistakes.

You have the ability to do, the capacity to act and the capacity to perform and produce.

Have a purpose and determination.

Have a positive mental attitude.

Be the job great or small, do it well or not at all.

Day 316

Any nation can be destroyed if its citizens look upon government as a cow to be milked rather than a watch-do to be fed. John Raydell

On the Plains of Hesitation lay the blackened bones of countless millions, who, at the dawn of victory, sat down to rest and resting, died.

Bryan (co-worker) just came by and wondered about my beat-up W.o.C. book that I was looking at. As he walked away I noticed this one quote which could be ascribed to him:

When you have had enough, wine, women and song-you'd better give up singing.

Day 313 - More from the W.of C.

Another show that I loved was "Love American Style." ...truer than the red, white & blue...


To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and probably broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must be sure to give your heart to no one, not even an animal.

Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken--it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, undeemable.

The only place where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbation of love is Hell. C.S. Lewis



When I have to, I'll run; when I can, I'll fight, but whatever I do, I'll not quit. It ain't because I've got more nerve than the next man, it's just that I'm not very smart. Nobody ever taught me when was the time to quit.



These in the days when heaven was falling,
the hour when earth's foundations fled,
followed the mercenary calling,
and took their wages and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
they stood and earth's foundation stay;
What God abandoned these defended,
and save the sum of things to pay.

Housman



You Made A Believer Out Of Me (1978)
(from the TV movie "Happily Ever After" with Suzanne Somers and Bruce Boxleitner)

Like a fairy tale come true,
I will run away with you
and as far as I can see
you've slayed all the dragons chasing me

Like a maiden in distress
you have brought me happiness
I never knew what life could be
til you came and rescued me

Like a shinning knight of old
on a horse of silver and gold
you came along and set me free
you made a believer out of me

Like a castle warm inside
you give me love where I can hide
and I'm feeling safe & sound
you have turned my life around

Like we're in a fantasy
all alone, just you and me
making love is all I'll do
a happily ever after with you

Like a shinning knight of old
on a horse of silver and gold
you came along and set me free
you made a believer out of me

Found It! Why Men Love War article

I saw the cover of this Esquire magazine while I was a student at the University of Missouri Columbia and in the Memorial Union. It had a woman in a helmet and the title - Why Men Love War. Well, having just graduated from a military school and having more than a passing interest in the military I picked it up. As I started reading this, I knew I had to buy the magazine! This article is as relevant then as it is now.

I would love to meet Mr. Broyles and shake his hand as he put into words what I have always felt. And also to thank him for serving his country.


Why Men Love War -- by William Broyles Jr. - Esquire magazine, 1984

I last saw Hiers in a rice paddy in Vietnam. He was nineteen then--my wonderfully skilled and maddeningly insubordinate radio operator. For months we were seldom more than three feet apart. Then one day he went home, and fifteen years passed before we met by accident last winter at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington. A few months later I visited Hiers and his wife. Susan, in Vermont, where they run a bed-and -breakfast place. The first morning we were up at dawn trying to save five newborn rabbits. Hiers built a nest of rabbit fur and straw in his barn and positioned a lamp to provide warmth against the bitter cold.

"What people can't understand," Hiers said, gently picking up each tiny rabbit and placing it in the nest, "is how much fun Vietnam was. I loved it. I loved it, and I can't tell anybody."

Hiers loved war. And as I drove back from Vermont in a blizzard, my children asleep in the back of the car, I had to admit that for all these years I also had loved it, and more than I knew. I hated war, too. Ask me, ask any man who has been to war about his experience, and chances are we'll say we don't want to talk about it--implying that we hated it so much, it was so terrible, that we would rather leave it buried. And it is no mystery why men hate war. War is ugly, horrible, evil, and it is reasonable for men to hate all that. But I believe that most men who have been to war would have to admit, if they are honest, that somewhere inside themselves they loved it too, loved it as much as anything that has happened to them before or since. And how do you explain that to your wife, your children, your parents, or your friends?

That's why men in their sixties and seventies sit in their dens and recreation rooms around America and know that nothing in their life will equal the day they parachuted into St. Lo or charged the bunker on Okinawa. That's why veterans' reunions are invariably filled with boozy awkwardness, forced camaraderie ending in sadness and tears: you are together again, these are the men who were your brothers, but it's not the same, can never be the same. That's why when we returned from Vietnam we moped around, listless, not interested in anything or anyone. Something had gone out of our lives forever, and our behavior on returning was inexplicable except as the behavior of men who had lost a great perhaps the great-love of their lives, and had no way to tell anyone about it.

In part we couldn't describe our feelings because the language failed us: the civilian-issue adjectives and nouns, verbs and adverbs, seemed made for a different universe. There were no metaphors that connected the war to everyday life. But we were also mute, I suspect, out of shame. Nothing in the way we are raised admits the possibility of loving war. It is at best a necessary evil, a patriotic duty to be discharged and then put behind us. To love war is to mock the very values we supposedly fight for. It is to be insensitive, reactionary, a brute.

But it may be more dangerous, both for men and nations, to suppress the reasons men love war than to admit them. In Apocalypse Now Robert Duvall, playing a brigade commander, surveys a particularly horrific combat scene and says, with great sadness, "You know, someday this war's gonna be over. " He is clearly meant to be a psychopath, decorating enemy bodies with playing cards, riding to war with Wagner blaring. We laugh at him--Hey! nobody's like that! And last year in Grenada American boys charged into battle playing Wagner, a new generation aping the movies of Vietnam the way we aped the movies of World War 11, learning nothing, remembering nothing.

Alfred Kazin wrote that war is the enduring condition of twentieth-century man. He was only partly right. War is the enduring condition of man, period. Men have gone to war over everything from Helen of Troy to Jenkins's ear. Two million Frenchmen and Englishmen died in muddy trenches in World War I because a student shot an archduke. The truth is, the reasons don't matter. There is a reason for every war and a war for every reason.

For centuries men have hoped that with history would come progress, and with progress, peace. But progress has simply given man the means to make war even more horrible; no wars in our savage past can begin to match the brutality of the wars spawned in this century, in the beautifully ordered, civilized landscape of Europe, where everyone is literate and classical music plays in every village cafe. War is not all aberration; it is part of the family. the crazy uncle we try--in vain--to keep locked in the basement.

Consider my own example. I am not a violent person. I have not been in a fight since grade school. Aside from being a fairly happy-go-lucky carnivore, I have no lust for blood, nor do I enjoy killing animals, fish, or even insects. My days are passed in reasonable contentment, filled with the details of work and everyday life. I am also a father now, and a male who has helped create life is war's natural enemy. I have seen what war does to children, makes them killers or victims, robs them of their parents, their homes, and their innocence--steals their childhood and leaves them marked in body, mind, and spirit.

I spent most of my combat tour in Vietnam trudging through its jungles and rice paddies without incident, but I have seen enough of war to know that I never want to fight again, and that I would do everything in my power to keep my son from fighting. Then why, at the oddest times--when I am in a meeting or running errands, or on beautiful summer evenings, with the light fading and children playing around me--do my thoughts turn back fifteen years to a war I didn't believe in and never wanted to fight? Why do I miss it?

I miss it because I loved it, loved it in strange and troubling ways. When I talk about loving war I don't mean the romantic notion of war that once mesmerized generations raised on Walter Scott. What little was left of that was ground into the mud at Verdun and Passchendaele: honor and glory do not survive the machine gun. And it's not the mindless bliss of martyrdom that sends Iranian teenagers armed with sticks against Iraqi tanks. Nor do I mean the sort of hysteria that can grip a whole country, the way during the Falklands war the English press inflamed the lust that lurks beneath the cool exterior of Britain. That is vicarious war, the thrill of participation without risk, the lust of the audience for blood. It is easily fanned, that lust; even the invasion of a tiny island like Grenada can do it. Like all lust, for as long as it lasts it dominates everything else; a nation's other problems are seared away, a phenomenon exploited by kings, dictators, and presidents since civilization began.

And I don't mean war as an addiction, the constant rush that war junkies get, the crazies mailing ears home to their girlfriends, the zoomies who couldn't get an erection unless they were cutting in the afterburners on their F-4s. And, finally, I'm not talking about how some men my age feel today, men who didn't go to war but now have a sort of nostalgic longing for something they missed, some classic male experience, the way some women who didn't have children worry they missed something basic about being a woman, something they didn't value when they could have done it.

I'm talking about why thoughtful, loving men can love war even while knowing and hating it. Like any love, the love of war is built on a complex of often contradictory reasons. Some of them are fairly painless to discuss; others go almost too deep, stir the caldron too much. I'll give the more respectable reasons first.

Part of the love of war stems from its being an experience of great intensity; its lure is the fundamental human passion to witness, to see things, what the Bible calls the lust of the eye and the Marines in Vietnam called eye fucking. War stops time, intensifies experience to the point of a terrible ecstasy. It is the dark opposite of that moment of passion caught in "Ode on a Grecian Urn": "For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd/ For ever panting, and forever young. " War offers endless exotic experiences, enough "I couldn't fucking believe it! "'s to last a lifetime.

Most people fear freedom; war removes that fear. And like a stem father, it provides with its order and discipline both security and an irresistible urge to rebel against it, a constant yearning to fly over the cuckoo's nest. The midnight requisition is an honored example. I remember one elaborately planned and meticulously executed raid on our principal enemy--the U.S. Army, not the North Vietnamese--to get lightweight blankets and cleaning fluid for our rifles repeated later in my tour, as a mark of my changed status, to obtain a refrigerator and an air conditioner for our office. To escape the Vietnamese police we tied sheets together and let ourselves down from the top floor of whorehouses, and on one memorable occasion a friend who is now a respectable member of our diplomatic corps hid himself inside a rolled-up Oriental rug while the rest of us careered off in the truck. leaving him to make his way back stark naked to our base six miles away. War, since it steals our youth, offers a sanction to play boys' games.

War replaces the difficult gray areas daily life with an eerie, serene clarity. In war you usually know who is your enemy and who is your friend, and are given means of dealing with both. (That was, incidentally, one of the great problems with Vietnam: it was hard to tell friend from foe--it was too much like ordinary Life.)

War is an escape from the everyday into a special world where the bonds that hold us to our duties in daily life--the bonds of family, community, work, disappear. In war, all bets are off. It's the frontier beyond the last settlement, it's Las Vegas. The men who do well in peace do not necessarily do well at war, while those who were misfits and failures may find themselves touched with fire. U. S. Grant, selling firewood on the streets of St. Louis and then four years later commanding the Union armies, is the best example, although I knew many Marines who were great warriors but whose ability to adapt to civilian life was minimal.

I remember Kirby, a skinny kid with JUST YOU AND ME LORD tattooed on his shoulder. Kirby had extended his tour in Vietnam twice. He had long since ended his attachment to any known organization and lived alone out in the most dangerous areas, where he wandered about night and day, dressed only in his battered fatigue trousers with a .45 automatic tucked into the waistband, his skinny shoulders and arms as dark as a Montagnard's.

One day while out on patrol we found him on the floor of a hut, being tended by a girl in black pajamas, a bullet wound in his arm.

He asked me for a cigarette, then eyed me, deciding if I was worth telling his story to. "I stopped in for a mango, broad daylight, and there bigger'n hell were three NVA officers, real pretty tan uniforms. They got this map spread out oil a table, just eyeballin' it, makin' themselves right at home. They looked at me. I looked at them. Then they went for their nine millimeters and I went for my .45. "

"Yeah?"I answered. "So what happened

"I wasted 'em," he said, then puffed on his cigarette. Just another day at work, killing three men on the way to eat a mango.

How are you ever going to go back to the world?" I asked him. (He didn't. A few months later a ten-year-old Vietcong girl blew him up with a command-detonated booby trap.

War is a brutal, deadly game, but a game, the best there is. And men love games. You can come back from war broken in mind or body, or not come back at all. But if you come back whole you bring with you the knowledge that you have explored regions of your soul that in most men will always remain uncharted. Nothing I had ever studied was as complex or as creative as the small-unit tactics of Vietnam. No sport I had ever played brought me to such deep awareness of my physical and emotional limits.

One night not long after I had arrived in Vietnam, one of my platoon's observation on posts heard enemy movement. I immediately lost all saliva in my mouth. I could not talk; not a sound would pass my lips. My brain erased as if the plug had been pulled--I felt only a dull hum throughout my body, a low-grade current coursing through me like electricity through a power line. After a minute I could at least grunt, which I did as Hiers gave orders to the squad leaders, called in artillery and air support, and threw back the probe. I was terrified. I was ashamed, and I couldn't wait for it to happen again.

The enduring emotion of war, when everything else has faded, is comradeship. A comrade in war is a man you can trust with anything, because you trust him with your life. "It is," Philip Caputo wrote in A Rumor of War "unlike marriage, a bond I that cannot be broken by a word, by boredom or divorce, or by anything other than death." Despite its extreme right-wing image, war is the only utopian experience most of us ever have. Individual possessions and advantage count for nothing: the group is everything What you have is shared with your friends. It isn't a particularly selective process, but a love that needs no reasons, that transcends race and personality and education--all those things that would make a difference in peace. It is, simply, brotherly love.

What made this love so intense was that it had no limits, not even death. John Wheeler in Touched with Fire quotes the Congressional Medal of Honor citation of Hector Santiago-Colon: "Due to the heavy volume of enemy fire and exploding grenades around them, a North Vietnamese soldier was able to crawl, undetected, to their position. Suddenly, the enemy soldier lobbed a hand grenade into Sp4c. Santiago-Colon's foxhole. Realizing that there was no time to throw the grenade out of his position, Sp4c., Santiago-Colon retrieved the grenade, tucked it into his stomach, and turning away from his comrades, and absorbed the full impact of the blast. " This is classic heroism, the final evidence of how much comrades can depend on each other. What went through Santiago- Colon's mini for that split second when he could just a easily have dived to safety? It had to be this: my comrades are more important than my most valuable possession--my own life.

Isolation is the greatest fear in war. The military historian S.L.A. Marshall con ducted intensive studies of combat incidents during World War 11 and Korea and discovered that, at most, only 25 percent of the men who were under fire actually fired their own weapons. The rest cowered behind cover, terrified and helpless--all systems off. Invariably, those men had felt alone, and to feel alone in combat is to cease to function; it is the terrifying prelude to the final loneliness of death. The only men who kept their heads felt connected to other men, a part of something as if comradeship were some sort of collective life-force, the power to face death and stay conscious. But when those men cam home from war, that fear of isolation stayed with many of them, a tiny mustard seed fallen on fertile soil.

When I came back from Vietnam I tried to keep up with my buddies. We wrote letters, made plans to meet, but something always came up and we never seemed to get together. For a few year we exchanged Christmas cards, then nothing . The special world that had sustain our intense comradeship was gone. Everyday life--our work, family, friends--reclaimed us, and we grew up.

But there was something not right about that. In Vietnam I had been closer to Hiers, for example, than to anyone before or since. We were connected by the radio, our lives depended on it, and on each other. We ate, slept, laughed, and we terrified together. When I first arrived in Vietnam I tried to get Hiers to salute me, but he simply wouldn't do it, mustering at most a "Howdy, Lieutenant, how's it hanging" as we passed. For every time that I didn't salute I told him he would have to fill a hundred sandbags.

We'd reached several thousand sandbags when Hiers took me aside and said "Look, Lieutenant, I'll be happy to salute you, really. But if I get in the habit back here in the rear I may salute you when we're out in the bush. And those gooks a just waiting for us to salute, tell 'em who the lieutenant is. You'd be the first one blown away." We forgot the sandbags and the salutes. Months later, when Hiers left the platoon to go home, he turned to me as I stood on our hilltop position, and gave me the smartest salute I'd ever seen. I shot him the finger, and that was the last I saw of him for fifteen years. When we met by accident at the Vietnam memorial it was like a sign; enough time had passed-we were old enough to say goodbye to who we had been and become friends as who we had become.

For us and for thousands of veterans the memorial was special ground. War is theater, and Vietnam had been fought without a third act. It was a set that hadn't been struck; its characters were lost there, with no way to get off and no more lines to say. And so when we came to the Vietnam memorial in Washington we wrote our own endings as we stared at the names on the wall, reached out and touched them, washed them with our tears, said goodbye. We are older now, some of us grandfathers, some quite successful, but the memorial touched some part of us that is still out there, under fire, alone. When we came to that wait and met the memories of our buddies and gave them their due, pulled them tip from their buried places and laid our love to rest, we were home at last.

For all these reasons, men love war. But these are the easy reasons, the first circle the ones we can talk about without risk of disapproval, without plunging too far into the truth or ourselves. But there are other, more troubling reasons why men love war. The love of war stems from the union, deep in the core of our being between sex and destruction, beauty and horror, love and death. War may be the only way in which most men touch the mythic domains in our soul. It is, for men, at some terrible level, the closest thing to what childbirth is for women: the initiation into the power of life and death. It is like lifting off the corner of the universe and looking at what's underneath. To see war is to see into the dark heart of things, that no-man's-land between life and death, or even beyond.

And that explains a central fact about the stories men tell about war. Every good war story is, in at least some of its crucial elements, false. The better the war story, the less of it is likely to be true. Robert Graves wrote that his main legacy from World War I was "a difficulty in telling tile truth. " I have never once heard a grunt tell a reporter a war story that wasn't a lie, just as some of the stories that I tell about the war are lies. Not that even the lies aren't true, on a certain level. They have a moral, even a mythic, truth, rather than a literal one. They reach out and remind the tellers and listeners of their place in the world. They are the primitive stories told around the fire in smoky teepees after the pipe has been passed. They are all, at bottom, the same.

Some of the best war stories out Of Vietnam are in Michael Heir's Dispatches One of Heir's most quoted stories goes like this: "But what a story he told me, as one pointed and resonant as any war story I ever heard. It took me a year to understand it: "'Patrol went up the mountain. One man came back. He died before he could tell its What happened.'

" I waited for the rest, but it seemed not to be that kind of story; when I asked him what had happened he just looked like he felt sorry for me, fucked if he'd waste time telling stories to anyone as dumb as I was."

It is a great story, a combat haiku, all negative space and darkness humming with portent. It seems rich, unique to Vietnam. But listen, now, to this:

"We all went up to Gettysburg, the summer of '63: and some of us came back from there: and that's all except the details. " That is the account of Gettysburg by one Praxiteles Swan, onetime captain of the Confederate States Army. The language is different, but it is the same story. And it is a story that I would imagine has been told for as long as men have gone to war. Its purpose is not to enlighten but to exclude; its message is riot its content but putting the listener in his place. I suffered, I was there. You were not. Only those facts matter. Everything else is beyond words to tell. As was said after the worst tragedies in Vietnam: "Don't mean nothin'." Which meant, "It means everything it means too much." Language overload.

War stories inhabit the realm of myth because every war story is about death. And one of the most troubling reasons men love war is the love of destruction, the thrill of killing. In his superb book on World War II, The Warriors, J. Glenn Gray wrote that "thousands of youths who never suspect the presence of such an impulse in themselves have learned in military life the mad excitement of destroying." It's what Hemingway meant when he wrote, "Admit that you have liked to kill as all who are soldiers by choice have enjoyed it it some time whether they lie about it or not."

My platoon and I went through Vietnam burning hooches (note how language liberated US--we didn't burn houses and shoot people: we burned hooches and shot gooks), killing dogs and pigs and chickens, destroying, because, as my friend Hiers put it, "We thought it was fun at the time." As anyone who has fired a bazooka or an M-60 machine gun knows, there is something to that power in your finger, the soft, seductive touch of the trigger. It's like the magic sword, a grunt's Excalibur: all you do is move that finger so imperceptibly just a wish flashing across your mind like a shadow, not even a full brain synapse, and I poof in a blast of sound and energy and light a truck or a house or even people disappear, everything flying and settling back into dust.

There is a connection between this thrill and the games we played as children, the endless games of cowboys and Indians and war, the games that ended with "Bang bang you're dead," and everyone who was "dead" got up and began another game. That's war as fantasy, and it's the same emotion that touches us in war movies and books, where death is something without consequence, and not something that ends with terrible finality as blood from our fatally fragile bodies flows out onto the mud. Boys aren't the only ones prone to this fantasy; it possesses the old men who have never been to war and who preside over our burials with the same tears they shed when soldiers die in the movies--tears of fantasy, cheap tears. The love of destruction and killing in war stems from that fantasy of war as a game, but it is the more seductive for being indulged at terrible risk. It is the game survivors play, after they have seen death up close and learned in their hearts how common, how ordinary, and how inescapable it is.

I don't know if I killed anyone in Vietnam but I tried as hard as I could. I fired at muzzle flashes in tile night, threw grenades during ambushes, ordered artillery and bombing where I thought tile enemy was. Whenever another platoon got a higher body count, I was disappointed: it was like suiting up for the football game and then not getting to play. After one ambush my men brought back the body of a North Vietnamese soldier. I later found the dead man propped against some C-ration boxes; he had on sunglasses, and a Playboy magazine lay open in his lap; a cigarette dangled jauntily from his mouth, and on his head was perched a large and perfectly formed piece of shit.

I pretended to be Outraged, since desecrating bodies was frowned on as un-American and counterproductive. But it wasn't outrage I felt. I kept my officer's face on, but inside I was... laughing. I laughed--I believe now--in part because of some subconscious appreciation of this obscene linkage of sex and excrement and 'death; and in part because of the exultant realization that he--whoever he had been--was dead and I--special, unique I me--was alive. He was my brother, but I knew him not. The line between life and death is gossamer thin; there is joy. true joy, in being alive when so many around you are not. And from the joy of being alive in death's presence to the joy of causing death is, unfortunately, not that great a step.

A lieutenant colonel I knew, a true intellectual, was put in charge of civil affairs, the work we did helping the Vietnamese grow rice and otherwise improve their lives. He was a sensitive man who kept a journal and seemed far better equipped for winning hearts and minds than for combat command. But he got one, and I remember flying out to visit his fire base the night after it had been attacked by an NVA sapper unit. Most of the combat troops I had been out on an operation, so this colonel mustered a motley crew of clerks and cooks and drove the sappers off, chasing them across tile rice paddies and killing dozens of these elite enemy troops by the light of flares. That morning, as they were surveying what they had done and loading the dead NVA--all naked and covered with grease and mud so they could penetrate the barbed wire--on mechanical mules like so much garbage, there was a look of beatific contentment on tile colonel's face that I had not seen except in charismatic churches. It was the look of a person transported into ecstasy.

And I--what did I do, confronted with this beastly scene? I smiled back. 'as filled with bliss as he was. That was another of the times I stood on the edge of my humanity, looked into the pit, and loved what I saw there. I had surrendered to an aesthetic that was divorced from that crucial quality of empathy that lets us feel the sufferings of others. And I saw a terrible beauty there. War is not simply the spirit of ugliness, although it is certainly that, the devil's work. But to give the devil his due,it is also an affair of great and seductive beauty.

Art and war were for ages as linked as art and religion. Medieval and Renaissance artists gave us cathedrals, but they also gave us armor sculptures of war, swords and muskets and cannons of great beauty, art offered to the god of war as reverently as the carved altars were offered to the god of love. War was a public ritual of the highest order, as the beautifully decorated cannons in the Invalids in Paris and the chariots with their depict ions of the gods in the Metropolitan Museum of Art so eloquently attest Men love their weapons, not simply for helping to keep them alive, but for a deeper reason. They love their rifles and their knives for the same reason that the medieval warriors loved their armor and their swords: they are instruments of beauty.

War is beautiful. There is something about a firefight at night, something about the mechanical elegance of an M -60 machine gun. They are everything they should be, perfect examples of their form. When you are firing out at night, the red racers go out into tile blackness is if you were drawing with a light pen. Then little dots of light start winking back, and green tracers from the AK-47s begin to weave ill with the red to form brilliant patterns that seem, given their great speeds, oddly timeless, as if they had been etched on the night. And then perhaps the gunships called Spooky come in and fire their incredible guns like huge hoses washing down from the sky, like something God would do when He was really ticked off. And then the flares pop, casting eerie shadows as they float down on their little parachutes, swinging in the breeze, and anyone who moves, in their light seems a ghost escaped from hell.

Daytime offers nothing so spectacular, but it also has its charms. Many men loved napalm, loved its silent power, the way it could make tree lines or houses explode as if by spontaneous combustion. But I always thought napalm was greatly overrated, unless you enjoy watching tires burn. I preferred white phosphorus, which exploded with a fulsome elegance, wreathing its target in intense and billowing white smoke, throwing out glowing red comets trailing brilliant white plumes I loved it more--not less --because of its function: to destroy, to kill. The seduction of War is in its offering such intense beauty--divorced from I all civilized values, but beauty still.

Most men who have been to war, and most women who have been around it, remember that never in their lives did they have so heightened a sexuality. War is, in short. a turn-on. War cloaks men in a coat that conceals the limits and inadequacies of their separate natures. It gives them all aura, a collective power, an almost animal force. They aren't just Billy or Johnny or Bobby, they are soldiers! But there's a price for all that: the agonizing loneliness of war, the way a soldier is cut off from everything that defines him as an individual--he is the true rootless man.

The uniform did that, too, and all that heightened sexuality is not much solace late it night when the emptiness comes.

There were many men for whom this condition led to great decisions. I knew a Marine in Vietnam who was a great rarity, an Ivy League graduate. He also had an Ivy League wife, but he managed to fall in love with a Vietnamese bar girl who could barely speak English. She was not particularly attractive, a peasant girl trying to support her family He spent all his time with her, he fell in love with her--awkwardly informally, but totally. At the end of his twelve months in Vietnam he went home, divorced his beautiful, intelligent, and socially correct wife and then went back to Vietnam and proposed to the bar girl, who accepted. It was a marriage across a vast divide of language, culture, race, and class that could only have been made in war. I am not sure that it lasted, but it would not surprise me if despite great difficulties, it did.

Of course. for every such story there are hundreds. thousands, of stories of passing contacts, a man and a woman holding each other tight for one moment, finding in sex some escape from the terrible reality of tile war. The intensity that war brings to sex, the "let us love now because there may be no tomorrow," is based on death. No matter what our weapons on the battlefield, love is finally our only weapon against death. Sex is the weapon of life, the shooting sperm sent like an army of guerrillas to penetrate the egg's defenses is the only victory that really matters. War thrusts you into the well of loneliness, death breathing in your ear. Sex is a grappling hook that pulls you out, ends your isolation, makes you one with life again.

Not that such thoughts were anywhere near conscious. I remember going off to war with a copy of War and Peace and The Charterhouse of Parma stuffed into my pack. They were soon replaced with The Story of 0. War heightens all appetites. I cannot describe the ache for candy, for taste: I wanted a Mars bar more than I wanted anything in my life And that hunger paled beside the force that pushed it, et toward women, any women: women we would not even have looked at in peace floated into our fantasies and lodged there. Too often we made our fantasies real, always to be disappointed, our hunger only greater. The ugliest prostitutes specialized in group affairs, passed among several men or even whole squads, in communion almost, a sharing more than sexual. In sex even more than in killing I could see the beast, crouched drooling on its haunches, could see it mocking me for my frailties, knowing I hated myself for them but that I could not get enough, that I would keep coming back again and again.

After I ended my tour in combat I came back to work at division headquarters and volunteered one night a week teaching English to Vietnamese adults. One of my students was a beautiful girl whose parents had been killed in Hue during the Tet Offensive of 1968. She had fallen in love with an American civilian who worked at the consulate in Da Nang. He had left for his next duty station and promised he would send for her. She never heard from him again. She had a seductive sadness about her. I found myself seeing her after class, then I was sneaking into the motor pool and commandeering a deuce-and-a-half truck and driving into Da Nang at night to visit her. She lived in a small house near the consulate with her grandparents and brothers and sisters. It had one room divided by a curtain. When I arrived, the rest of the family would retire behind the curtain. Amid their hushed voices and the smells of cooking oil and rotted fish we would talk and fumble toward each other, my need greater than hers.

I wanted her desperately. But her tenderness and vulnerability, the torn flower of her beauty, frustrated my death-obsessed lust. I didn't see her as one Vietnamese, I saw her as all Vietnamese. She was the suffering soul of war, and I was the soldier who had wounded it but would make it whole. My loneliness was pulling me into the same strong current that had swallowed my friend who married the bar girl. I could see it happening, but I seemed powerless to stop it. I wrote her long poems, made inquiries about staying on in Da Nang, built a fantasy future for the two of us. I wasn't going to betray her the way the other American had, the way all Americans had, the way all men betrayed the women who helped them through the war. I wasn't like that. But then I received orders sending me home two weeks early. I drove into Da Nang to talk to her, and to make definite plans. Halfway there, I turned back.

At the airport I threw the poems into a trash can. When the wheels of the plane lifted off the soil of Vietnam, I cheered like everyone else. And as I pressed my face against the window and watched Vietnam shrink to a distant green blur and finally disappear, I felt sad and guilty--for her, for my comrades who had been killed and wounded, for everything. But that feeling was overwhelmed by my vast sense of relief. I had survived. And I was going home. I would be myself again, or so I thought.

But some fifteen years later she and the war are still on my mind, all those memories, each with its secret passages and cutbacks, hundreds of labyrinths, all leading back to a truth not safe but essential. It is about why we can love and hate, why we can bring forth Fe and snuff it out why each of us is a battleground where good and evil are always at war for our souls.

The power of war, like the power of love, springs from man's heart. The one yields death, the other life. But life without death has no meaning; nor, at its deepest level, does love without war. Without war we could not know from what depths love rises, or what power it must have to overcome such evil and redeem us. It is no accident that men love war, as love and war are at the core of man. It is not only that we must love one another or die. We must love one another and die. War, like death, is always with us, a constant companion, a secret sharer. To deny its seduction, to overcome death, our love for peace, for life itself, must be greater than we think possible, greater even than we can imagine.

Hiers and I were skiing down a mountain in Vermont, flying effortlessly over a world cloaked in white, beautiful, innocent, peaceful. On the ski lift up we had been talking about a different world, hot, green, smelling of decay and death, where each step out of the mud took all our strength. We stopped and looked back, the air pure and cold, our breath coming in puffs of vapor. Our children were following us down the hill, bent over, little balls of life racing on the edge of danger.

Hiers turned to me with a smile and said, "It's a long way from Nam isn't it?"

Yes.

And no.

Day 309 - Ramblings from the books of Confucius

When I was at Kemper I had a book with blank pages that I used to collect sayings, quotes, poetry I wrote and things of that nature. I would kid Beaver about it, either during D & D sessions or when he needed relationship advice, I would say, 'Lets see what the book of Confucius has to say.' So they became the books of Confucius. Over the years they have expanded, and some are in bad shape, and I think I only completed one. For some reason I would stop them. I don't know, maybe some kind of tragic event; a girl broke up with me or broke my heart or I just had a feeling or I found a book that I liked better. One was a full size sketch book that the cover has fallen apart. I tried numbering and had contact info in them. Its like a road map of where I was. A lot had stuff that was in previous volumes. My favorite of course being the Capt. G.L. Skypeck's The Soldier. The Object of Kemper. And a few others that have become favorites. So I thought I would share some of those tid bits of wisdom here. Now, to some it may not be much to them. But then you haven't been where I have.

'A soldier watched his buddy's back and that was it. No need to ask for help or offer thanks to any of the living when the smoke had cleared. Tomorrow it could be someone else's world in jeopardy, and yesterday's potential victim would be riding withe cavalry again.'

'Once a man has lived as a matador, he could never know again what it would be to live without the exhilarating tension of staring death in the eyes.'

'Against naked force the only possible defense is naked force, The aggressor makes the rules for such a war; the defenders have no alternative but to match destruction with more destruction, slaughter with greater slaughter.' FDR

'You can't negotiate with terrorists. That only encourages them. What you do is shoot them as quickly as you can. and when they take hostages to demand that other terrorists be freed, you end the situation quickly and execute those that the terrorists demanded. You eliminate the problem. You make terrorism a deadly game for the terrorists. If they try something, they must know they are going to die.'

'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'

There is an article out there that I have recopied so many times-called "Why Men Love War." I found it in the 1980's in Esquire magazine. It is one of the best written articles about men (and women) who serve in war. It says what I have always believed; In my opinion, that man is naturally a violent animal. You put two men or two women or a man and a women together-eventually they are going to fight. You escalate the numbers and you have war. It also talks about War as a game. I am not doing the article justice. But everyone who I have ever had read it, understand it. Especially those that wore a uniform.

'The enduring emotion of war, when everything else has faded is comradeship. A comrade in war is a man you can trust with anything, because you trust him with your life. "It is," Philip Caputo wrote in A Rumor of War "unlike marriage, a bond that can not be broken by a word, by boredom or divorce or by anything other than death." Despite its extreme right-wing image, war is the only Utopian experience most of us ever have. Individual possessions and advantages count for nothing; the group is everything. What you have is shared with your friends. It isn't a particularly selective process, but a love that needs no reasons, that transcends race and personality and education-all those things that would make a difference in peace. It is simply, brotherly love.

What made this love so intense was that it had no limits, not even death. John Wheeler in Touched With Fire quotes the Congressional Medal of Honor citation of Hector Santiago-Colon: "Due to the heavy volume of enemy fire and exploding grenades around them, a North Vietnamese soldier was able to crawl undetected to their position. Suddenly, the enemy soldier lobbed a hand grenade into Spc4. Santiago-Colon's foxhole. Realizing that there was no time to throw the grenade out of his position, Spc4 Santiago-Colon retrieved the grenade, tucked it into his stomach, and, turning away from his comrades, absorbed the full impact of the blast." This is classic heroism, the final evidence of how much comrades can depend on each other. What went through Snatiago-Colon's mind for that split second when he could just as easily have dived to safety? It had to be this: my comrades are more important to me than my most valuable position-my own life.'

I have always believed that. When I was at Kemper, I knew what my friends would do at almost any given situation. That's why I always say I would trust George with my life. But if he said, "Here, try this." I wouldn't. I told George that once and he laughed. He said, "Yeah, unless I said, No, really, try this." I laughed even harder and told him I wouldn't try that ESPECIALLY if he said that.

I need to find that article and put it on here.

Day 308 - Whil Weaton and Kate Mulgrew

Ok. I know its shallow of me and totally geeky, but I have seen Whil Weaton in a few things now and I can't shake that Weasley Crusher character. And now it seems he is trying to get rid of that image, as everything I have seen him in he has played a bad guy. Like right now he is on the web series The Guild as leader of a 'bad' guild.

And now Kate Mulgrew is playing an alcoholic mother on Mercy. From the bridge of a star ship to this. I wish she has transitioned to some sci fi series. I know she was an actress before Voyager, but still. and I remember when she was "Mrs Columbo."

Its just different seeing them in other roles.

Day 307 - 4 Gifts (Now 5)

I found this or was sent to me. As a child I probably wouldn't have liked it much, but now as I am older I think this is a great thing. I would add one more present; that you make something also.

Four Gifts!
===========
A number of years ago when my youngest child of six children was 10 or 11, I was driving myself crazy trying to buy everything on her very lengthy Christmas list. I wanted to be a good parent and give my child the desires of her heart.
In the midst of all of this, a friend told me that he and his wife buy their children four gifts for Christmas every year.
Yes, FOUR gifts!
They are:
1. Something you want
2. Something you need
3. Something to wear and
4. Something to read.
If they complain, ask them, "Whose birthday are we celebrating?"
Once I started doing this, I thought my children would be awful about it, but the opposite happened. They really appreciated every gift they got, and they made me "label" them.
Since that time, Christmas at our house has been so much more enjoyable because we could focus on the true meaning of the celebration, and I wasn't driving myself crazy trying to find and buy gifts I couldn't afford.
And yes, I still buy and label four gifts for them each year.

Day 306 - Meeting Dale Dye

On Saturday October 17, I got the opportunity to meet someone I had only read about or seen in the movies: Dale Dye. He is an author, movie star, owns his own business and a former US Marine. He is a Missouri native, born in Cape Girardeau and attended the Missouri Military Academy in Mexico, Missouri. When I saw that he was going to be in town signing his new book and speaking at the Honor Flight event, I made sure that I had the chance to meet and speak with him. I had seen him in many movies and TV shows, and had read many things of his. Also, since he went to my school’s rival (I am a third generation Kemper Military School Old Boy Alumni and past president of the Alumni Association) I had to make an appearance.
I got there early, but another gentleman was there before me. We chatted a bit waiting for the captain to show. I found out that this gentleman was a former Vietnam veteran and was in the Marine Corps. Also his son is a serving US Marine and was just back from overseas. He was going to get a book for himself and another to send his son. And he was going to get his picture with Captain Dye and send it to him. I also had brought a camera for that same thing.
The captain showed up in dress uniform with all his awards. There are men who have a ‘command’ presence just by entering a room. Captain Dale Dye is one of them. The former Marine went first and spoke with him, explaining who he was and about his son. The captain readily stood up for a picture and shook his hand; something that I had seen a few times, a known celebrity getting their picture taken with a fan. But what was unique about this, was that after the picture was taken, Captain Dye made sure that the picture was to his liking (as he did when I had the opportunity to get mine taken with him also).
When it was my turn, he looked at my shirt and asked if I had gone to Kemper. Yes sir, I replied. He said he went to MMA and I nodded affirmative that I knew that, and that was one of the many reasons I was there. We spoke a bit about our schools and I shook his hand and thanked him for his service and for keeping the shows he worked on, the way the military was. I gave him a Kemper patch, (since Kemper shut down in 2002, I wanted him to know there were still Alums around) and hope he took it with the gratitude of many from Kemper who appreciated what he did and does. He shook my hand, and he has a very firm grip and I got my picture with him.
I hope there were many people who got the opportunity to meet a man who served his country, has written books and has made a living, making sure that Hollywood gets the military “right” in all its films and shows. He is the founder of Warriors, Inc, the leading military consultancy to motion pictures and television. Captain Dale Dye, a hero to me and many others is the kind of man we can be proud of. Though I only spoke with him briefly, he was certainly everything I thought he was. I am glad that I had the opportunity to meet him, and even more thankful that he was here helping out the Central Missouri Honor Flight and getting our World War II veterans to the memorial in Washington, DC.

Day 292 - Obama's Peace Prize

Ok, I can't believe it. If he was a good person he would have rejected it. But since he is human, as most of us are, yeah he's gonna take it. I don't fault him for that. we all like getting gifts and being raised up for things that we didn't really do. It's an ego boost and looks good on a resume. In this case, I don't think he lobbied for the prize. But come on. If the prize wasn't a laughing stock before it is now. With winners like Al Gore and Yasser Arafat. I mean YASSER ARAFAT?! Wasn't he the lead terrorist awhile ago for that little organization called the PLO? And then Jimmy Carter, who, in my book, should always have to remember 444 days and his major screw up there. Ok, he can't take all the blame for that, but for the failure to do something-anything before the debacle in the dessert. Talk about waffling. I guess Kerry went to the Jimmy Carter School. At least that would make sense.

Personally I like the SNL skit where it has "their" Obama talking about how the Republicans are criticizing him. And he goes through and explains that he hasn't done Anything since his time in office concerning all his promises he made. AND that with a Democratic controlled congress. Leave it to SNL and The Daily Show to ACTUALLY show us whats going on. Or in this case, NOT going on. And don't even get me started about ACORN.

Day 285 - Track 11, 12, 13 & 14

Its been a while since I wrote here and since I wrote about my songs of what I want played at my funeral. Track 11 is Van Zant's Help Somebody. Love the video of the old couple. I like to think that's how my grandpa and grandma were. Never knew either of my grandpa but my grandma was of the old school. And I feel bad and know I did much a disservice to her. Even though I was her "Angel."

Last weekend we had a reunion in KC for Kemper. Got to see Bunch, Martin & Kipper besides Jody & Laura, Humphrey's and a few other. I met an old boy from the 60's and his wife. His wife is a Viet Nam vet (nurse) and she knew. She understood the bond of us Old Boys. She would be one to have a spine of steel and someone you would want in your fox hole. Though she would be the one you would be visiting after the battle was over.

I had talked with George a day before that about a few things as I hadn't spoken with him in a while. Time, distance or circumstance, still a good voice of reason. And that's why my track 12, Carrie Underwood's Don't Forget About Me. He reminded me, that I have touched a lot of people's lives. Something that I always thought of was wanting to be remembered. Having no offspring and the possibility of that fading; I have always been one for oral history-like the Indians and Masons did.

Talking with the guys here at the house I forget that I have done a lot of things; and ages that are younger than they are and at their age now. As I mentioned to Kelly today; I retired twice. One at age 24 and the other at age age 33.

Track 13 is Jake Owens, Starting With Me. I feel like that..."if I had a dime, for half the things I did, It didn't make no sense at all, I'd be living a little higher on the hog, if only I'd had know, that later on down the road, I'd look back and not like what I see, I'd change a lot of things, starting with me." Well that's not entirely true. I do like where I came from and the majority of things I am a good person and did good things. Not enough and not enough for a lot of people. But now I see a lot of that. So I guess its a lesson learned. I have never been intentionally mean or cruel. Mom had her hand in my compassion. Dad taught me about standing up and being proud of who I was. Kemper filled in a lot of blanks.

Its hard to try and explain and I know I am not doing a good job of it.

Track 14, Brad Paisley, When I Get Where I am Going. Come on; its a funeral and this is a pretty good song about that. I don't think I will get there with the wings and halos; as I have said-if I can make it to Valhalla I will be doing good as I know I will have people there I know. Holmes. Hawk.

And when I get where I am going....

Day 265 - New Shows

I have only seen two of the new shows coming up and to say the least I am disappointed.

First "Community." I was excited since it has Chevy Chase in it. But the main character is some guy who I have not seen, and after seeing him; don't find him that funny. Also, the ensemble, not the best. And Chevy doesn't seem to be at the top of his game. yeah I know; its been a few years since Saturday Night Live. And for those who don't know-yeah he was one of the originals. I don't see this lasting, or at the very least, I don't see me watching it unless something drastically changes.

Next "Accidentally on Purpose." Another I was looking forward to, with Jenna Elfman. Not as bad a pilot as I thought. But not the best either. In this case though, some of the ensemble seem better than the main. I love her Australian girl friend! And his buddies who seem the typical 20 something slackers/partiers! Jenna is cute stile and has some good one liners. And she seems to let slip the "I Love You." A little much. Might make a season with her saying it and meaning it after she realizes she does.

And I am not a fan of watching people dance, so that dancing stuff..... yawn. All in all, a very poor year for new stuff; and then they cancelling the good stuff. Figures. Any more I guess I can wait on any show I like and just by the box set and have a great marathon time.

Day 260 - It Figures

Just saw the season opener of Fringe. And I could tell what would happen at the end. Either I am that good or they really telegraphed it. I am glad the actor is still in the series, but hate that his character is dead. I guess that's why they had to bring in the new female FBI. I think they jumped the shark a bit or they forgot where they left it at the end of last season. Still good though.

And I just found out that they cancelled The Unit. Figures. I can see how the ratings dropped but, it was still good and the only real military show on the air. Actually not bad; the SGM wife leaving like that. Still...sigh.

No No No

I haven't seen it yet, but supposedly Jeri Ryan, formerly of ST:Voyager as 7 of 9 is joining the Leverage team. I don't know if this is temporary or permanent. Temporary, ok I can see. I don't know whats going in the actress's life who plays Sophie, but hope she comes back. While I loved 7 of 9, I have seen Jery Ryan in other things and, I must say, I am not that impressed with those things. She did a great former Borg, and yes, she is attractive, BUT when she smiles she has more mouth than Julia Roberts and, while that looks good for Julie, not so much for Jeri.

I love Leverage-it blows any of Cruises "Missions" out of the water. The right combination of people. Right personalities. Right writing. Love Jim Hutton. Ever since I saw his dad in The Green Berets and Walk, Don't Run and then saw Jim in Taps and in The Nero Wolfe Mysteries, have always had a soft spot for that family. And then there is the black guy, the geek in the series. Who loves W.o.W., Trek and Star Wars and all that stuff. He's great! Then there's Parker. Love that line from the pilot:

You got Parker?
Something wrong? She's the best.
Yeah, but Parker's crazy.

And then-that's 20 pounds of crazy in a 5 pound bag.

Also there is something underlining between her and the computer geek.

Hardison, the hitter, who doesn't like guns and can tell by the way someone is standing what kind of military training they have had. And then Sophie. The best actress when she's trying to con you, and the worst one every time else.

What better team can there be? But no, no, NO Jeri Ryan.

Please.

Day 257 - Dreams vs Reality

Did you ever have an unsettling dream? Not a bad dream or a scary one, but one that unsettled you? They say dreams are actually your mind dealing with things. Sometimes they are supposedly premonitions. I have had what I have thought was Deja Vu. So what do dreams mean? I have read books on the symbol isms; and that's good. Except when the dream is fairly straight forward. And that's the problem. Or maybe I am just depressed that Patrick Swayze died.

Never did see Dirty Dancing, and Ghost got tiring after hearing "Unchained Melody" all over the radio. Loved him in Road House and Red Dawn. I must admit that I liked the guy and had thought and hoped he had kicked cancer. With him passing, Farrah gone, and I found out that Dan Seal also died. It seems that a lot of the people that are famous and I liked are passing. Must be their time. Also, I can see how lonely it can start to be when you start to loose people that you grew up with. Either real friends or the stars we saw and heard on tv and radio. Sometimes new ones come along. Sometimes not.

Prayers to those family and friends of those we have lost-Patrick Swayze, Farrah & Dan Seals. I know that people loose friends and family every day from illness, disease, war and accidents. Heart and prayers go out to them also.

Day 256 - I Have Moved

Well I am moved into my new room in what I have been calling The Frat House. I say this as when I first walked in, there was the big screen tv with surround sound and a beer pong table in the back.

I moved from my apartment to this room to save money. Its actually closer to work. And last weekend I finally 'bonded' with my roomies over beer pong. After I explained to them I had never played, we played a few. Got the hang of it down, but a few of the rules escape me. Reminds me of quarters from my old KA days.

Anyway, they are a nice bunch of guys. Aside from loud music at 11:30 and questionable tastes in their music, don't see a problem. I am basically using this as a place to sleep for a year so I can get back on my feet. Also, because of the move I had to sell, give away, store or throw out a lot of stuff. Bitter sweet as my old land lord said. Yea. But also necessary I think to move on. I have to get rid of the Firebase mentality anymore. That is gone, as is the farm. So now I have a mechanized infantry idea; what I can carry, along with a supply depot (storage) for now. Who knows; I may get another Firebase. If I do, and all that goes with it, I know I will appreciate it more. Had to loose to win I guess.

Day 243 - Greek (and other important stuff)

Ok. I hate to admit this, well I guess I don't since I am writing on a blog, but I really do like the series Greek. I was thinking maybe cause I work for a college, but no. Or that Bryan reminds me of Cappie and the way he and Kirsten fight are like him and Casey. But no. I just really like the characters. Normally this character heavy series I wouldn't care for, but since the series started they have all developed. Even Evan Chamber's character. But I could see Rebecca's make out partner coming from a mile away, especially since she wasn't going to admit it to Ashleigh.

This has (for me) the right mix of character and story. It doesn't really do any social commentary except about people. Men & women. Oh yeah, I know I am delving too deep into this; but I also guess I like it since it lets me escape reality. Just like Star Trek or other shows that I have fallen in love with. And the few, very few, on one hand I can count, reality shows I have liked, are not the norm of the reality show genre either.

I was thinking about this earlier. I don't want normal. Even in a woman I find attractive. Normal, while safe, can be boring. And in a relationship that can be deadly. I have friends that are married, and I wonder how some of them get along. They have their own hobbies, sometimes separate from their significant other. Eventually, the s.o. while doesn't complain about it, makes them give up what they love. Either because its expensive, time consuming or they need to grow up. When you start to loose track of your freedoms because of that, its a sign. I guess that's why I kept in touch with so many. I didn't have that kind of distraction. And the guys that I know that are still the same, I know. meaning, the trust is still there, and has never wavered. Because they are the same way, 30 years later. Some of the old gang have changed, and that's good for them. they feel they needed to, as they have a wife and family. Their priority changes. For those of us who are the same, we are the ones who will be on the front lines, protecting you so you can protect your family. And yes you are still family, but more of a cousin now, than a brother or sister. If that makes any sense.

Even now; I am cutting a lot of things out because I am moving, and I am either throwing out, selling giving away or storing. In this case, this is good. I am giving up "things." Not my love of movies, because I am getting rid of VHSs, or books, because I am donating some to the library or games, because I am picking which ones I want to stay with. If I was giving up gaming that's one thing. I am not. I am focusing. Paula (ex#2) once said that I hadn't lost enough. I had thought about that for the last 4 years, and almost thought she was right. She was referring that I hadn't been beat down enough, loosing things or more accurately, having things taken away from me. I had almost thought she was right.

Now, I realized, that to grow I had to get rid of things. And while any Christian wants to be more like our Creator and strive to walk like He; I realize as does He, that mankind is A) Not perfect and can never be like him. B) Perfect can be boring. If He wanted us all to be perfect, He could make us perfect. He is God after all. No, he wanted us to choose, like a science experiment and see what happens. Should we be good, do good and be the best we can, yes! But, because of choice, some choose to be evil. The too perfects are turning other cheek to forgive. And that's great. I can do that, to a point. I am the guy who will stand up, because I was bullied in grade school, even though I was bigger than some. The one thing I didn't have at that time was confidence. Going to Kemper, I found confidence in who I was, what I liked, and had no problem standing up for myself or beliefs. Bullies don't want someone to stand up for themselves. And the small ones, they thing they can pick on, sometimes can be very fast and sneaky. Anyway. I know that standing up is more Old Testament. And Ia m alright with that. Eye for an eye. My reasoning is this: while I may not be good enough to rank the penthouse, I know I am good enough, even as a Christian soldier to rank close. And there will be good people, men & women who I respect, admire and loved, there also. Birds of a feather don't you know. So while we may not dine on pheasant under glass or caviar for eternity; we will be having prime rib and desert. And then when the need arises to protect, or the dirty work for the side of Good is needed, then the bell can be rung where we are, and we can form up and fight the enemies of evil. If that's how I have to spend eternity, I can live with that. Just hope Greek is playing there or that I can access Hulu and watch the back episodes.

Day 237 - Warehouse 13

As I had said in a previous post, I was wary of Warehouse 13. But, I am a believer now. Even more so since they added Claudia. And in this episode it combines a couple of my favorite things: Las Vegas, Alice in Wonderland stuff, disco and actors from Eureka. Lupo and Zane, as a couple of thieves that seem to have great luck. Also, it has Myka in a great little dress. Anyway, love what the SCI FI channel (can stand they changed their name to SYFY) did with having them do this. Love it when crossovers, even if its not a true crossover. Yeah I know, it takes so little to amuse me.

Day 236 - You Women Suck

I knew this would happen. I get hooked on a reality TV show and the outcome is never what I think. All these women are looking for the one. They have a connection in the dark room and then when the lights come up... and these aren't bad looking guys. I know I couldn't stand the light, as I hope my personality would carry in the dark. And I feel really bad for these guys. I would say 2/3 of the women leave because of the looks. I think if the reverse was done. Looks first, these guys would probably be better. Who knows. I always said that the battle of the sexes never ended it just went to guerrilla warfare. I want to re-watch the 6 episodes and see how many women left the guys at the balcony.

It just pisses me off. Me, I can understand them walking through the door. But these guys..... argh.

Ok, enough of that rant. I got sucked into another TV show: Greek. OMG. I love it! I think it was because Cappie reminds me so much of my co-worker Bryan. And then as the episodes went on, the characters grew. Also, I can relate to Rusty. Felt that way growing up; hell I still feel that way. Love this show and glad it got picked up for a third season. I was surprised at the amount of adult content that it showed on ABC Family. Way to go! Hope they can go to at least the 4th or 5th season. Maybe end it when Rusty graduates. And yes! I do hope Cappie and Casey end up together. That's a true Romeo and Juliet. I am glad she broke up with Max. I mean, I maybe a geek at times, but he was just flat out boring. Although the engineer party was fairly accurate. Can't believe, well actually I guess I can, that Spencer Grammer is Kelsey Grammer's daughter. That's so cool also.

Day 229 - Dating In The Dark

Ok, I for one do not reality TV shows. I can count on one hand the ones that I like. And of course, the ones I like never seem to make it. Anyway, I happened upon this one on Hulu. The reason I checked it out was because they had the 1st episode and when they explained that there were no cash prizes and no one was voted off I thought ok. And then the premise. Great. You meet in total darkness. You get clues of what a person is about,and then decide if you want to "meet" them in the light.

And I must say, that it seems the women are more judgmental on how a person looks than the men are. At least the ones I have seen. So far I have watched five of them. And in one of them all the women wanted one guy and the two other guys were cool about it as they knew they didn't have a spark with any of the women. But, when they saw him, they all changed their tune. It wasn't like he was ugly or anything. Good looking guy; but to one he was too young. Another, he wouldn't fit with her lifestyle and friends....amazing. I have seen guys check themselves. They said that it was about the person on the inside, if they choose not to meet. Of course they could be lying for the camera. But the premise, I like. we'll see how long it lasts. Since its a good show, and is trying to bring people together with no cash prizes, no voting off or anything like that. And looking like everyone actually getting along on the men and women sides, it probably won't last.

So I will say that this is #2 on my reality show check list. the first was called "boot Camp." and yeah it was military orientated. Aw well. Guess that's why the majority of network TV sucks. They never leave the good shows alone. They want that "microwave" NOW. Not use a stove and let things cook.

Day 218 - X-Files 2

I never saw this movie when it was in the theaters and all I can say is: THANK THE LORD for that. I would have been pissed off by spending that amount of money on this movie.

Let me say, that I am a fan of the original X-Files. And I have been hunting the paranormal longer that Chris Carter can spell "X-Files." So I wanted to see what they did to finish up the franchise. All I can say is; WTF? This was like a CSI or Law and Order or something else. And it is really 'somethimng else.'

Ugh ugh ugh!

I think Californication got to the series. Not really Duchovny's best work. The story was weak, weak weak weak....

And Anderson's role... also, just..ugh............

Sorry guys. I was hoping you would have let the series leave on a high note like the first movie. But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. You had to produce this trite.