PxHere |
Friday, April 26, 2024
Aftermath
Thursday, April 25, 2024
The Ambush
PxHere |
Wednesday, April 24, 2024
What Happens ...
Le Caillou Napoléon's Last Headquarters (Source) |
Not sure what has me going down this somewhat morbid path today. We humans think a lot about what happens when we die, at least what happens to our spirit, that intangible "thing" which defines us as a person. I don't often think about what happens to our physical remains, today I did.
Tuesday, April 23, 2024
Testing, Testing, 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... Testing, Testing
Monday, April 22, 2024
Comme Ci, Comme ça * (again)
So... There I was, headed into town, Monday, April 15th, a date that will live in infamy. For, I am the Family Messenger enroute to the Postal Service Office to send the Family share of the National Debt to the Cesspool on the Potomac.
If you don't understand that nomenclature, well, we can't be friends.
Source (10:45 AM 16 Apr 2024) |
I noted that the PO parking lot was a little fuller than usual, although it was noonish, so I assumed they were folks picking up mail for businesses or because it was lunchtime and they had time to do so.
Silly me, No, virtually everyone there had an envelope of various sizes all addressed to the same Austin address. Seems like Mrs. J and I weren't the only one's wanting to hang on to their money as long as legally possible.
Yes, short of Christmas Eve, April 15th is probably the busiest Post Office day of the year. So...One clerk on duty. By the time I got to the front of the line it extended out the door. US Gummint at it's finest.
But, because I dislike driving through town, (18 wheelers, pedestrians, and out of town drivers makes a mix that borders on disaster. Hence, I tend to avoid it when possible) I had, several years ago, discovered a back road that while two lanes, avoids most of the primary traffic ball ups. It goes through some ranch land and follows a creek with trees, and little traffic!
What's not to like?
This day, after the spike in BP at the post office, tranquility was high on the "wish for" list. The Big Guy came through.
That, my Friends, is a Texas Longhorn and, No, I'm not referring to a college football team.
You may notice a few things about these pictures. One (and the most important one) there is a fence in the picture between them and I. Two, there are indications in a couple of the pictures, that the pictures were taken from inside the car. Three, and you'll have to trust me on this, while my foot was on the brake pedal, the car was still running and in gear, just in case.
Magnificent animals, and smart. They gave me a quick once over glance, determined the threat level was low both in likelihood of some poor action idea as well as low likelihood of my ability to cause harm. So, they just returned to grazing.
I'm pretty sure after I left and went around the corner, the herd pulled the vodka martini's and Guinness from camouflaged refrigerators and consumption was resumed. But, I was happy, and they seemed to enjoy the attention.
Which brings us to the never ending project story.
Dangerously close. If I knew how to measure, it would be done. But, NOOOOooo.... I cut the left hand setting bolt about a 1/2" too short. Ah well, another trip to Lowes. In addition, LJW approved adding a slide to the project, so, the trip is not a waste.
THE big event over this past week was the arrival of Little J with his successful escape from Sodom on the Potomac. He and LJW decided to stay the night in Moscow on the Colorado for some reason or another. I'm SURE it was to avoid rush hour traffic and had nothing whatsoever to do with not seeing each other for a very long time.
In any case, Mrs J and I had care of Miss B. It was quite fun and the following morning was pretty interesting in itself.
Who IS this Hairy Guy? |
Yep...Initial contact did not go real well, But, someone came up with an ingenious plan..Give her her mom's phone and have Little J call it.
Because she'd been video chatting with him quite frequently, she recognized the face on the phone.
I wish I'd have been faster on the camera, when she looked up from the phone and saw the same guy on the phone in the same room as her. A flood of recognition and understanding who was in the room with her. Dada!
Yeah, a heart warming moment!
But as you are reading this, he's en route to Honk Honk to finish up there. He'll be back in the Great State early in June to pick up Wife and Daughter and move to Jolly Old England. Thank You, Lord!
All is well...
Finally, this was discovered by LJW and sent to me, regarding my post from last Monday and the attitude of some immigrants from out of state and the reaction to that from current residents.
I don't care who you are...That's funny right there!
* A little of this, a little of that. Or a Song. I'd used its title as the title of one of my previous posts, hence again. This Tune is pretty catchy, among other things. Might even add a little energy to Sarge's battery. Hope you feel better soon.
Sunday, April 21, 2024
In the Garden ...
OAFS Photo |
Saturday, April 20, 2024
John Blackshoe Recommends ... (Part 2)
(Source) |
“Why yes, Laz. You were missed. In fact the better part of 5000 people have been looking for you for the last two hours and…(muffled, aside:) Yes, sir it’s Lazlo. Just a minute, Laz - The Skipper would like to speak to you.”
All throughout Ready Room 8, Compartment 2-242-0-L aboard the USS Constellation, a warship then at sea in execution of national tasking in the Indian Ocean, junior officers lowered their faces thoughtfully into month-old magazines, staring with a fixed and terrible intensity on single words or even punctuation marks in the text while their associated ears nearly herniated themselves in straining to capture every rapturous moment of the tide about to burst upon the person of Lazlo, poor unfortunate Lazlo.
Having caught some whiff of the reason for Lazlo’s unexcused absence from the ship, the CO’s towering rage, which had already been approvingly described as “pretty darned epic” in scale, somehow astonishingly re-doubled itself. The effect took place to such an alarming degree that those who cared for him grew concerned for his well-being, not to mention his state of mind and he was just getting up a good head of steam as he got to the phone, ripping it from the duty officer’s hand and quickly asking of Lazlo whether, in his studied professional opinion, it was really true that the naval service was little more than a transportation system for his wedding tackle? Because that was the way it might appear to the disinterested observer.
Without pausing for reply, the CO then offered Lazlo fairly detailed sartorial advice in preparation for a face-to-face meeting right there in the ready room, just as soon as he could change out of that ridiculous costume the entire ship had seen him wearing, disgrace that he was to his squadron in particular and the service in general. During this meeting it was plausibly forecast to Laz that the CO might frabbing kill him, cork-sticking gasper that he was, even going so far as to offer detailed anatomical descriptions of how the deed might be accomplished, complete with promises of sterner measures which would immediately follow.
All of this was put on hold however, as the squawk box beside the duty officer crackled to life with the stern salutation of, “Ready 8, Bridge!”
“Ready 8 aye!” responded the duty officer, just as he’d been taught, and with perhaps a somewhat greater mindfulness of his duty than usual given the current atmosphere in the ready room. In doing so he manfully forbore from the normally overwhelming temptation to make hilarious squawk box responses such as belches and even worse than belches in reply gentle reader, disgusting as they were and having only the slenderest thread of plausible deniability to go along with them. This would all have been in the time honored aviation tradition of biffing the blackshoe professional surface warfare officer, which although it was a simple sport, not unlike clubbing baby seals, was yet considered worth the effort, if only for the practice that was in it.
Something in the current mood made him pause, and a right good pause it was too, for the very next voice to come through the box itself was that of the Actual Captain of the Whole Frabbing Ship, who in no-nonsense verbiage studded with short, stout, Anglo-Saxon derivatives strongly desired and required of our CO that the sun of a beach piece of carp that had kept the Entire Goram Navy from getting about the nation’s business join him up on the bridge for a short but exciting conversation, adding that it would not be very much resented if the CO came along as well, if he wasn’t too busy?
Collar devices were mentally consulted for relative merit, and as events unfolded, our CO’s leisure suited the Captain’s pleasure. The two of them, Lazlo and The Man (who would in a matter of moments and a nine deck climb be just “a man” again) y-clad not in flight suits gentle reader but in khakis as befits a walk-of-shame, reported to the bridge no very long time later, sweat streaming down their faces, chests heaving and eyes bulging out of their heads. What followed after your humble scribe cannot reliably relay, lacking as he did the physical courage to attempt to follow, and not being able to wheedle it out either from Lazlo himself, nor any of the junior officers on watch up on the bridge, selfish bastiches that they were, and we’d have shared it with them maybe, had the roles been reversed. We are left with the strongest impression that the conversation could not be considered a dialogue really, unless your definition of “dialogue” is expansive enough to cover a discussion wherein the party of the first part is entirely in transmit, and the party of the second almost entirely in receive, apart from a few carefully timed “yessirs” and “nosirs” and the occasional, remorseful “no excuse sirs.”
What I can tell you is that a letter of reprimand is better than no mail at all, and that the next four weeks saw a great deal more of Lazlo at the duty desk and wearing khakis, with only someone to spot him at the desk every seven days or so for him to get a night trap and thereby maintain night currency, great store being set in night currency on the line. Of daylight flights there were few or none, which was all to the good for the rest of us, for we’d gladly take his day hop. When the time came for fitness reports, there were 10 of us in the top 1% category, which is the way things were done in those days, and one of us in the top 5% category, which was the kiss of professional doom. I do not know for a fact that Laz was our anchor man, but if he was not, then some one of the other of us must have been caught by Dad diddling livestock, and word of it never got down to our level.
Laz was with us the best part of year before leaving the service, that being the best thing all the way around, really, and joining a major airline, where I imagine he remains to this day. He has by now no doubt risen to the august rank of airline pilot captain-type guy, and if you’re traveling this Christmas gentle reader, who knows but that you may be placing your life in his hands?
And you know where they have been…
18 RESPONSES TO “PO’ LAZLORUS”
- MCPO Airdale Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 3:52 pmLazlo was creamed chipped beef on toast! Serves him right for hangin with an enlisted honey!
BTW: Nobody could bribe the QM on duty to tell the story???
- SeabeeChief Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 6:57 pmAnd once again, Captain, sir, (as I shamelessly attempt, poorly, to imitate your style)it’s not a bad tale in itself, but so much the better for your telling of it. Poor Laz!. I can empathize, having been sort of the young enlisted Marine version of him once or twice. After I became an actual Sailor, I heard frequently that a Captain’s Mast or two was almost a requirement to make Chief, a court-martial even better. Usually said, I think, as a kind of condolence for someone NOT making rate at a particualr point in time. It turned out to be true in my case, both the NJP and a summary Court in my far past at least not stalling me (long) at the E-6 level. Whether they have any effect on the star(s) over my anchors is yet to be seen.
Lex, it’s good to see you back in the saddle. You do have a gift that we all enjoy. Daily you make me proud to be a small part of this great Navy. I’ve a good feeling you’re the knid of officer any Chief, or Sailor, would be honored to work for. - Fuzzilicious Thinking Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 7:14 pmHighjinks in Diego Garcia
If you have not yet had the pleasure of a Sea Story as told by Lex, you have my sympathies. But here’s your chance to rectify the deficiency!
- ChiefT Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 7:25 pmI’ve had a bad couple of days, fuming about work. This really put it all in perspective! Thanks so much.
- bad cat robot Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 8:14 pmAn epic tale, masterfully told. All it needs is a chorus declaiming in the background to make the first Greek tragi-comedy. It is a pity that the actual reaming has been lost to posterity. Of course in the classic tradition any action that would *excessively* excite the fear and pity of the audience was always done offstage. (But I would have enjoyed it …)
- Dan Says:
December 15th, 2005 at 8:47 pmCapt Lex, this has got to be one of your best sea stories yet — the Rythyms are great, but noting beats your all-too-true sea stories. Keep em’ coming.
- SGT Jeff (IRR) Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 8:50 amThat brought back some memories… not terribly fondly recalled ones, either!
- SoCal Pir8 Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 10:06 amGreat Sea Story!! Came close to missing movement myself during a stop at Pearl. One of those “My wife, she” episodes as she had met the ship and was suffering during pregnancy and we were at the ER. As it turns out, the arrival of SecNav aboard saved my hide. Was able to get aboard but ran right into my Boss on the Q’Deck. He did allow me a two way conversation after we got underway.
- badbob Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 10:14 amPoor guy was rail-roaded Lex!
The best GD sea-story I’ve ever seen or heard capured in writng! And I’ve read, heard, made up and lived a heck of a lot.
Beauti-full!
B2
- Neptunus Lex » Emergency Sortie Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 10:45 am[…] “Anybody miss me?” […]
- SeniorD Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 11:42 amOuch! Bet that left a mark.
- TGOO Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 2:19 pmGood stuff. Sounds all too familiar from my deployment days on Saratoga. Several mornings in the Med were spent at quarters on the flight deck, standing in ranks downwind from a shipmate who had eaten garlic seasoned snails the previous evening ashore, while the 1MC blared out the name of some unfortunate man who had missed movement. Bad scene…. really bad scene. It felt good to be aboard, even with a monster hangover.
- CPT J Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 3:39 pmI’m still striking a brace, eyes boring into the bulkhead… “staring with a fixed and terrible intensity” at Haze Gray slapped on wiring and flanges. The memories of one-way conversations past…
- Curt Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 3:41 pmI think the best part of this story is even a civilian would get a good smile out of this, while missing 90% of “the rest of the story.”
Ah, the jabs at the “professional” Naval Officers…the guys who heard you “complaining” that you’d already seen that movie several times, and found the mostly empty ice cream cartons in the wardroom fridge.
I have to admit, this is a GREAT story, and makes my one about locking the HSL Det OIC out of his stateroom on random mornings on the frigate pale in comparison. It isn’t worthy.
You needed to have written it a few days ago, just before the end of the weblog voting…would have pumped up your voting points for sure.
Thanks! (and may we have another, sir?)
- FbL Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 4:43 pmI think the best part of this story is even a civilian would get a good smile out of this, while missing 90% of “the rest of the story.”
This civilian got more than a “good smile” out of it, but as to how much of the rest of the story I got, ignorance by definition excludes me from an estimation. Regardless, it’s great stuff.
- Sgt. B. Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 7:58 pmI have seen the ultimate representation of this phemon when our Company Commander (which, regardless of what anyone would tell you, is the apex of a Marine Officer’s career, unless he makes Commandant) proved upon the body of my (soon to be “ex”) Platoon Commander that it is indeed possible to inlay a human form into the side of an AAV7 simply through the power of the human voice…
In a word, magnificent…
- FbL Says:
December 16th, 2005 at 8:09 pmSgt. B, you must share that story on your blog!
- skippy-san Says:
December 17th, 2005 at 3:32 amGuess the old adage, “If you are not in hack at least once a cruise, you are not carrying your sahre of the load!” no longer applies………
December 15th, 2005 at 3:52 pm
Lazlo was creamed chipped beef on toast! Serves him right for hangin with an enlisted honey!
BTW: Nobody could bribe the QM on duty to tell the story???