Dances With Insurance Company

Argument over a Card Game
Jan Steen (Source)

As many (most?) of you know, I had surgery back at the end of July. I spent nearly a week in the hospital and have been recovering at home ever since. I'm on what's called "Short Term Disability." Yes, my employer and Little Rhody both refer to this state of being as, wait for it, "STD." Which has other, rather unpleasant, connotations. So I won't use that acronym, ever.

Well, except the one time, just now. Because I had to explain it and I thought it funny. Yeah, I know, don't quit my day job.

So I have two insurance companies, one for the medical stuff, think "they pay the hospital bills" and one for the paycheck thing, think "they pay me."

Because I reside in Little Rhody, who have their own disability insurance, I pay some to the state and some to the insurance company. My employer pays a lot to the state and to the insurance company. The idea is that when I can't work, I still get paid. Though it costs a bit extra, I pay in so that if I am disabled for a short period of time (up to 13 weeks) I get 100% of my pay.

Good deal, right?

Well, it can be, and here's the rub. The doctor will tell you when you can go back to work, let's assume that he says "eight weeks." Now the insurance company (who are now in a position to have to give you back money which you paid in) says, "Uh uh, you need to go back in four weeks."

My experience is that whatever the doctor says, the insurance company will cut in half. DAMHIK. Been there, done that.

So who does one listen to? The doctor is concerned that you will screw up your health and well being by going back to work too soon. The insurance company is concerned that you are costing them money.

Pikers, that's what insurance companies are.

I view insurance as a bet, you put your money down, betting that you will need the insurance at some point in time. Whether it's a car accident, health issue or even (egad) death in the case of a life insurance policy.

Now the insurance company is betting that they will never have to cut you a check because you are one really healthy / careful / long-lived dude.

Do I complain at the end of the year when I lose my bet? "Gee, the insurance company gets to keep all that money." No, I say, "Thank the Lord we didn't have any accidents / health issues / (egad) deaths in the family."

Now on the other hand, the insurance company, when they lose the bet, try to wiggle out of the full amount. It's almost as if they're saying, "C'mon Sarge, best two out of three?" Nope, they really don't want to pay. Now by law they have to, so they will try and get away with the least amount that they can.

Now earlier this week, after telling the insurance company that my doctor wanted me to chill out until the end of September, they called me back later and said, "We have you going back to work on September 7th." Dude was awfully rude about it too. Apparently their spreadsheet shows most people after the surgery I had go back to work in four weeks. I pointed out, again, what my doctor had told me. His answer, "Why should you get more time off than anyone else?"

Dude, doctor's orders, what more can I say? I was flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned and annoyed. Who is this dipstick who thinks he can override my doctor? And be a complete Richard about it!

So I called back , got a different person, a very pleasant lady who concurred with my assessment of her colleague being a Richard and transferred me to the dude's supervisor. She was also very nice, was upset that -

1. Her subordinate treats customers badly,
2. This was also the second time I had filed a claim, (they claim to have lost the first, or "forgot to save it") and
3. That I was most upset with her employer.

This company has a track record of doing this. I figure most people will just say "Okay" and head back to work, like sheep. Some of us though will fight back.

True story time.

Friend of mine one day at work had to run down to the head, seems he had a nose bleed. When he didn't return right away, I headed to the head myself to check on him. Upon arrival my buddy wasn't there but a facilities chap that I know was there, cleaning up a sizable amount of blood from one of the sinks and the floor underneath. Seems my buddy had to be rushed to the hospital. It wasn't just a nose bleed, he had popped a blood vessel in there.

While he was in intensive care, hooked up to a ventilator, unconscious, our friends at the insurance company called his wife...

"So when do you think Jim will return to work?"

Yes, Jim's better half blew her stack.

"I DON'T KNOW. I'LL ASK HIM WHEN HE REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS, PROVIDED OF COURSE THEY TAKE HIM OFF THE VENTILATOR!!!!"

The idea is to cut costs, hustle the subscriber back to work as soon as possible.

I mean I get that from a business perspective. What I don't get is how they can override medical professionals.

Then I had an epiphany.

My going back to work is a medical decision, made by my doctor. Whether or not the insurance company has to continue to pay me disability is a LEGAL issue. I pointed out to them that they didn't get to decide when I went back to work, that was between me, my doctor and my company. All they could was cut / or not cut a check to moi.

Yes, that got their attention.

While I'm sure my observation had nothing to do with it, they deemed the information they received from my doctor to be insufficient, but because Monday is Labor Day, they can't really expect me to return to work the day after. Right now their target date is the 14th. I talked to my doctor's office on Thursday, they were pissed. Seems they are used to this really shoddy practice by the insurers. And they don't like it. More paperwork dontcha know?

Oddly enough, the checks from Little Rhody started coming in the fourth week I was out, got another one today. Seems the state is content to believe my doctor. What the Hell is wrong with my insurance company?

In reality, it's just another way to harvest other people's money.

It's a wager, you're betting you'll need your insurance, they're betting you won't.

And the house always wins.

Wilderness War

(Source)

Jacob paused briefly to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, looking over his small field of corn he felt good. This land was bountiful and beautiful. It had been hard work clearing the field for his cabin and his crops. Hard but worth it.

But something was wrong, the cicadas had stopped their noise, there was a heaviness in the air, almost as if a storm was brewing. Then he saw the glint of, something, there in the brush on the far side of his squash plants. Something, someone was there.

"Caleb, go get your Ma and get everyone into the cabin. Now son. Move!"

As he watched his young son run to to the cabin, Jacob reached for his fowling piece. Quickly he picked up the weapon which had been passed down to him from his father and checked that the flint was seated, then he checked the priming.

Damnation, the boy had been playing with the frizzen again, all the powder had fallen out of the pan, no doubt when the young lad snapped it opened and closed. Fumbling with his powder horn, for a brief moment Jacob had to chuckle at the boy's curiosity.

Out of the forest, with a whirring noise, an arrow flew from the bow of a hidden Huron warrior. With a meaty sounding thump , the arrow smacked into the young farmer's chest, puncturing his left lung.

For a moment Jacob was puzzled, it felt as if he had been punched hard. His wind was gone, he could scarcely breathe. Then the sharp agony came, overwhelming his senses. As he sank to the ground, his weapon falling from his nerveless hands, his last thought was of his wife and children.

He never saw the Huron raiding party which had killed him.

Long ago, the great forest stretched from the shores of the Atlantic to the Mississippi River, from the Gulf of Mexico north to the Canadian tundra. Within those forests lived a variety of native cultures many of whom were hostile to the Europeans. After all, they drove away the game and took the land for themselves.

So the original people fought back as best they could. But stone knives and flint arrowheads were no match for lead ball, driven by the explosion of black powder. The Europeans could, and did, kill from a distance. So, many of the original peoples went west, displacing other populations, a story which has played out for as long as humans have lived on the planet.

Those who were strong enough, and numerous enough, were courted by the Europeans. In the northeast the French and the English made allies of the various tribes. The Iroquois Nation was aligned (more or less) with the English. The Huron, driven from their homeland and north to Quebec by the Iroquois, allied themselves with the French.

In the 1700s a struggle began for dominance of the northeastern portion of North America. New France, which stretched from the Atlantic coast of Canada to what is now Louisiana encircled the possessions of His Majesty George II, the King of Great Britain and Ireland, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg (Hanover) and Prince-elector of the Holy Roman Empire.

France and England were ancient enemies so it is not a surprise that they would eventually come to blows over their possessions in North America.

The war which eventually drove the French from their North American possessions and broke the power of France in the New World was fought from 1754 to 1763. It was known by the English colonists as The French and Indian War. In Europe the war spread to involve all of the major powers and was known as The Seven Years War. One of the truly great soldiers of the era was a man from a small country called Prussia. Does the name Frederick the Great ring any bells?

The Seven Years' War was fought between 1754 and 1763, the main conflict occurring in the seven-year period from 1756 to 1763. It involved most of the great powers of the time and affected Europe, North America, Central America, the West African coast, India, and the Philippines. The two major opponents were Great Britain and France. In the historiography of some countries, the war is named after combatants in its respective theaters: the French and Indian War in the United States. In French-speaking Canada, it is known as the War of the Conquest, while it is called the Seven Years' War in English-speaking Canada (North America, 1754–1763), Pomeranian War (with Sweden and Prussia, 1757–1762), Third Carnatic War (on the Indian subcontinent, 1757–1763), and Third Silesian War (with Prussia and Austria, 1756–1763). W

The war was bloody and violent in the New World. Native raids along the periphery of the English colonies killed many men, women and children. Reprisal raids into the native heartlands killed many men, women and children as well.

The armies were small, the forces committed by France were very limited as Louis XV and his advisers concentrated on the European aspects of the war. Only a small number of regular French regiments came to the New World, for the most part the French tended to rely heavily on their native allies.

Great European style fortresses were built along the lines laid down by the great Vauban.

One which I have visited often was rebuilt to its early splendor, Fort Ticonderoga. Originally built by the French and named Carillon, after the sound made by the nearby river flowing between Lake George and Lake Champlain. To them it sounded like bells.

Fort Ticonderoga (Source)

The French also had the Fortress of Louisbourg on what is now known as Prince Edward Island. This protected the entrance to the St Lawrence seaway and the French cities of Quebec City and Montréal. A great siege was conducted by the British in 1757. They seized the fortress and destroyed it. It too was rebuilt and is now a National Historic Site of Canada. The picture below is just a portion of the old fortress

(Source)

The fortress and its environs in 1751. (Source)

One of the results of the British seizure of Louisbourg and the surrounding territory was the deportation of many of the area's French-speaking, Catholic inhabitants. They were known as Acadians, many were deported to France, many wound up in the southern parts of the Louisiana territory which remained in French hands until Napoléon sold it to the United States. We know them today as Cajuns.

Another of the ramifications of this war was its cost. It was so expensive that the British Parliament decided that the Colonies, for whom the war was fought they claimed, should shoulder some of the cost.

Which led to a tax on tea, and the Stamp Act and a number of other things which led to the American Revolution. Which so bankrupted the French monarchy that the French had their own revolution, which led to Napoléon and all that followed. Funny isn't it how things reverberate down through history? (It's a damn shame that most of our politicians know very little of history.)

So how did this war start?

Well, landowners in Virginia and other parts of the Eastern Seaboard were a bit miffed that New France stood in the way of their hunger for more land. So the British Crown pushed patrols out into the Ohio Valley. Which irked the French no end.

So the French began to beef up their military presence in the Ohio Valley. A patrol was sent out from Fort Duquesne (which was on the site of modern downtown Pittsburgh) under the command of Joseph Coulon de Villiers, Sieur de Jumonville, a French military officer born and raised in North America.

Fort Duquesne (Source)

Some historians say it was a scouting mission to determine British strength in the area. The French maintain that Jumonville was on a diplomatic mission, he was to deliver an ultimatum to the British demanding that they withdraw their forces from the Ohio Valley. Or incur the wrath of Le Roi, Louis XV!

Jumonville's patrol was discovered by a band of Indians allied to the British, they reported back to Fort Necessity where a young colonial officer by the name of George Washington (yes, that George Washington) decided to take action.

Washington took a detachment of about 40 men and marched all night in a driving rain arriving at the encampment at dawn. What happened next, like so much about the incident, is a matter of controversy. The British claimed the French discovered their approach and opened fire on them. The French claimed the British ambushed their encampment. In either event, the battle lasted little more than 15 minutes and was a complete British victory. Ten French soldiers were killed and 21 captured, including the wounded Jumonville.

Washington treated Jumonville as a prisoner of war and extended him the customary courtesies due a captured military officer. Washington attempted to interrogate Jumonville but the language barrier made communication difficult. During their conversation however, the Half King walked up to Jumonville and without warning struck him in the head with a tomahawk, killing him.

Why the Half King did this has never been clear. He had been kidnapped by the French and sold into slavery as a child. He claimed that the French had boiled and eaten his father. He was also a representative of the Iroquois Confederacy, which stood to lose its authority over other Indian peoples in the Ohio River Valley if the French were able to assert their control. W

The site of the battle, Jumonville Glen, near present day Uniontown, Pennsylvania (Source)

Another account of that battle gives you an idea of the confused nature of what happened and the many points of view, depending on who you talked to I guess. (Too bad there were no cell phones back then, neh?)

George Washington is often called the Father of Our Country and with good reason. Most folks don't know that he was involved from the beginning of those great events which drove the French from Canada and the British from what would become the United States. You could argue that Washington's actions that day planted the seed for all that was to come.

But in the years which followed, many soldiers and Indians would die and many settlers would be killed in sight of their homes. Until that fateful day on the Plains of Abraham, a battle which sealed France's doom in the New World. A battle in which the commanders on either side (Wolfe and Montcalm) were both killed in action.

History is oft written in blood.

"Hold up Ensign Macready, do you smell that?"

The young British officer paused and sniffed the air. His sergeant nudged him and said, "It's smoke young sir, look over yonder."

Macready did, he could see the faint wisps of smoke just above the next ridge line. The wind had shifted and now the young ensign could also smell the smoke.

"Yes sir, I smell it sir, it's smoke!"

"Yes, yes, Ensign, now get your flankers out, let's go see what's burning."

Though the common British foot soldier is a hard man, used to a rough existence and harsh treatment at the hands of his betters, even the most brutish of the men were taken aback at the scene as they crested the low ridge, deep inside Pennsylvania.

The farmhouse and all the outbuildings had been put to the torch. Even the farmer's mule and cow had been slaughtered. The farmer himself was nearly unrecognizable his remains had been so badly abused.

From what the Seneca scout could discern, the farmer's wife and children, maybe one, maybe two, had been dragged off. Captives, bound for Canada. There was no sign of their bodies anywhere.

The captain of His Majesty's 44th Foot sighed and gestured at his sergeant. "Get the men together Sergeant, we'll camp here tonight.

"Sir!"

"Ensign, let's bury that man. Hop to it lads. Nightfall is not far off. I wish to be away from this place first thing in the morning."

Shivering, the captain dreamt of tomahawks and war whoops in the night. He heartily wished he was back in London.

Jay-Bab

Thud on a Stick, Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling

Often when I open the doors to the vault and wander through the dusty archives here at The Chant, I find various and divers topics upon which I intended to write. Then promptly forgot about. On occasion you may see the annotation POCIR. Which is my shorthand for "Provided Of Course I Remember," as in "that reminds me of a story which I need to tell, but not now, later, POCIR."

Bugs me somewhat when I don't remember. It happens, usually something else will pop up driving the topic down the memory stack, sometimes it vanishes into the clutter. Oh, I will remember it, someday. That's when I head into the archives and dig up old photos and remembrances.

Take that opening photo of the "Thud on a Stick," of which here's another angle...

This angle also lets you know where on the base the aircraft sits.
(Not too far from the "Ceremonial Lawn" - I guess that's what we in the military used to call a Parade Ground. Sigh...)

For grins I did some research on this particular F-105D and discovered some interesting stuff at this site (which is excellent for tracking down old aircraft, including Phantoms!) Here's what I found, it's all surprised I was!

Republic F-105D-6-RE Thunderchief

Serial number 59-1771 (MSN D83) to MASDC as FK0048 Jun 25, 1981.  To AMVET Post 2256, Circleville, OH for preservation in 1998. The plane at Bolling AFB marked as 59-1771 is actually 61-0138.

Serial number 61-0138 (MSN D333) noted on display at Bolling AFB, DC in Oct 2000, marked as 59-1771, nicknamed Ohio Express.

The real 59-1771 would be this bird...

Google Maps

Here's the ground eye view...

I highly recommend this Source awesome photos!

The JV tail code denotes the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing out of Korat Royal Thai Air Force Base, Thailand (obviously?) which initially consisted of two F-105 Thunderchief squadrons, the 421st Tactical Fighter Squadron and 469th Tactical Fighter Squadron.

The real 59-1771 in Ohio was known as "Foley's Folly/Ohio Express" and was flown by USAF Captain Peter K. Foley on his 200th mission, 469TFS/388TFW, Korat RTAFB, 1969. Capt. Foley was the third Thud pilot to make it to 200 missions. A pretty big deal when you considered that most of those missions were "up north", think North Vietnam, think MiGs and SAMs and people who want to kill you. No fun at all!

So that's the story on the aircraft, funny thing, on the way off the base I snapped that opening photo, which is when The Nuke asked, "So Dad, any particular reason you're taking photos of the Defence Intelligence Agency?"

Which question drew a "Huh?" from me. Looking to my left, sure enough, that big building in the photo is shown below, aerial view.

Hhmm...

I immediately put the camera away and started muttering, "Me no VC! GI numbah one! VC numbah 10!" Which made The WSO chuckle, The Nuke shake her head and The Missus Herself just mumbled "You're an idiot." She knows me well.

So what does all this have to do with today's topic? Well, this was the first time I had set foot on an Air Force base in nearly 16 years. Now this was back in May of this year (while I'm thinking of it, don't get me started on this whole "Joint Base" thing, I'm old fashioned, it sticks in my craw, but I suppose it does save money) and the last time I had been on an Air Force base was in May of 1999 when I retired at Spangdahlem Air Base in Germany. So there was that.

But the reason for my attending the progeny and the better half at this base was a trip to the Base Exchange. I had two missions to complete. (I should mention that Little Bit was there too, she had a complete meltdown in the store as she wanted her Mom to buy three pairs of shoes. Mom said "Just one pair" - that's when the fight started. Dear Lord but that little girl has a temper!)

Like I said, two missions. First of all, I needed a cable to hook my brand new camera to my computer, while it does have a Wi-Fi capability, The Nuke's quarters and Chez Sarge don't really have the bandwidth to be transmitting high-resolution photographs through the ether. The cable was relatively inexpensive. (I do believe that I have mentioned that I am a bit cheap. I like to say thrifty, but I'm always corrected, "No honey, you're cheap. In fact you're a frigging miser if the truth be told.")

The cable, larger than life.

I also wanted to purchase a web belt for the super cool belt buckle The WSO got me last year...

Now I really wanted to get a khaki belt as used by the Navy (O's and Chiefs) but (of course) they were all out. So I got the Air Force belt. Looks better with my jeans anyway. (Sour grapes? Nah. Well, yes.)

Now those of you who have been paying attention in the past may wonder about that red background which shows up from time to time when I'm showing you my various items of swag. Like these...

From bottom left and clockwise: USS ENTERPRISE cruise patch from 2011, son-in-law Big Time went in country a lot on that one, dropping bombs on the Taliban and other unsavory characters. Next is the The WSO's USS RONALD REAGAN cruise patch for 2013. It was supposed to be a WESTPAC (Western Pacific) cruise but they got, you guessed it "Sequestered!" Finally is the The WSO's USS RONALD REAGAN cruise patch from RIMPAC 2014 (Rim of the Pacific) in which they actually got to go to sea, fly and do cool stuff.

Close up of that 2013 "cruise" patch.

The setting for most of my "swag" photos. Primarily decorative, this is used by the feline members of the staff to sit and look out the window. While on break from their busy schedules...

What really triggered this post is the fact that The WSO's old boat (sigh, okay Skip, ship) USS RONALD REAGAN (CVN-76) departed Sandy Eggo for Japan on the 31st of August. I spent an awesome day at sea on that carrier and I will miss seeing her in Sandy Eggo. But she's needed out there in the Far East. Fair winds and following seas lads and lasses, make us proud! (Story)

150831-N-OI810-061 SAN DIEGO (Aug. 31, 2015) Sailors stand in formation on the flight deck of the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) before departing Naval Base Coronado (NBC). Ronald Reagan, the Navy's forward-deployed aircraft carrier, departed NBC for Yokosuka, Japan. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Nathan Burke/Released)

Thus ends the tale of my short trip to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling (Or Jay-Bab as I kept calling it) back in May. Something I wanted to post about a few months ago.

But forgot.

Hey, eventually I get around to things which I had promised!

POCIR.

Lighten Up Already

August Full Moon

Okay, so the country seems to be going to Hell in a hand basket. The gubmint is evil, cops are monsters and if only we could all get along.

Yeah, right.

Now I believe that I have fessed up to being a Facebook kinda guy in these spaces on more than one occasion. Lately it's almost painful to go there to see what is offered for my viewing "entertainment." It's enough to make a fellow a pessimist.

Now there are a lot of bad things going on in the world and right here at home. Doesn't mean there haven't always been a lot of bad things going on in the world. It's just that these days nearly every person out there has a cell phone with video recording capability and access to YouTube.

Bam! Instant news story.

Sarge! That's my line! (Source)

(Hhmm, is it just me or does The Chant seem to have a number of chefs lately?)

Now how about what's happening at home, right now. Well, unless you live in or near a major city run by a bunch of nitwits, my observation is that not much is happening "at home."

Sure, our local community has its issues and problems to overcome, but if I was to believe half of what I see on line, then I would have to figure that -

1. The police want to kill me, because I might be suspicious.
2. I'm white therefore I didn't have to earn anything I have. It was given to me.
3. Black folks are all downtrodden and are victims of the white patriarchy.
4. Women folk are all downtrodden and are victims of the white patriarchy.
5. Asian folk are good at math and suck at driving.
6. Most types of food are bad for you and will kill you. You need to buy a book written by a doctor to teach you how to eat. (Why our species didn't die off thousands of years ago I find puzzling. I mean, ya know, SCIENCE!)
7. Climate change is all caused by humans and we're all going to die. The polar bears are all dying and chunks of ice the size of Montana are melting everyday. Why New York City will be under water by 1995. (Yeah, not really.)
8. The latest <insert trendy name here> diet is the only way to lose weight. Yes, you need to eat that crap for the rest of your life.
9. The only way to go is vegetarian. Which confuses me because we are optimized to eat damn near anything. Kind of like bears. Only without the fur and the attitude.
10. Meat is bad. So why do we have teeth designed to tear meat?

Okay, let's address those ten things point by point.

The first one, okay I know a lot of law enforcement types. They are not bloodthirsty craven fools. Yes, some LE types aren't as good as others. Tell you what though, imagine yourself on a dark street and you have someone behaving erratically. They reach for something, what do you do? Tell them to stop, don't move, that kind of thing? Or are you ready to open fire?

Oh yeah, you have two seconds to make that call. Make the wrong call and you might be dead.

Suppose the officer just barely passed through the academy. He might make the wrong call. Regardless, if your life is on the line, you tend to err on the side of "I want to go home after my watch."

The second bit, yes, I am officially classified as "white" or "Caucasian" if you prefer. Though I consider myself to be kind of a pinkish-beige in tone and not a single ancestor of mine ever got anywhere near the Caucasus mountains. Truth be told, I identify as "Chris," for that is the name bestowed upon me by my parents. (Well, that's the short version of my given name.)

It pisses me off every time I have to check off what "race" I am on some idiotic form. The concept of race is bullshit and pretty non-scientific. In Basic Training I checked "Other" and specified "Celt" as to what other was. My instructor started screaming at me that I was white and I had better gorram check "white" on the form. Didn't do it. No doubt I was marked down for "playing nice with others." Ever the rebel...

I'm still waiting for all the "hey, I'm white, where's my privilege package." Though I get what the people who spout that "privilege" nonsense mean. There have been times where the non-pinkish beige folks have been shafted. The Democrat Jim Crow laws spring to mind. Of course, I was in the Air Force and we were all treated equally.

I have to admit it's tough to stay unbiased with all the race baiters running around, those of ALL shades. But I just think back to the folks I served with and worked for. All good, righteous folk. The only color I saw was blue. (Well, actually olive drab but you get my drift.)

Third and fourth thing. Okay, there is some truth to this. But I would change that "white patriarchy" bit to "wealthy old white dudes, particularly the ones in Congress."

I mean my daughters have faced that, "Did I get a good eval because I earned it? Or are they scared that I'll complain to the diversity-nazis?" Women did and do have an uphill battle succeeding in traditionally male occupations. Some though will play "the gender card" in order to get ahead. Which screws things up for the others.

I think blacks have the same problem but to a greater extent. I cannot fathom how you can hate someone based on the color of their skin. It makes as much sense as hating someone because of the color of their eyes.

Improvements have been made but there is still a long ways to go towards Dr King's vision:

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Suffice to say, we're not there yet and a word to Obummer, Sharpton et al, you guys are making things worse, not better. IMHO.

Now that bit about Asians being good at math and sucking at driving? That's my kids' personal pet peeve.

Heading down I-264 one day, bound for Virginia Beach, we saw a car kind of weaving between lanes and going painfully slow. As we passed this vehicle, we saw an Asian guy at the wheel, The Nuke just looked at the guy and sighed, "Yeah, thanks dude, thanks for reinforcing the stereotype."

In school The Naviguesser was often asked "Do you know kung fu?" Yeah, he got a little tired of that. For what it's worth, all three kids are really good drivers, two of the three are really good at math. None of them know kung fu. Besides which, they're half Korean, if anything they would know tae kwon do or some other Korean martial art.

Item the sixth. Anything if overdone has the potential to kill you. My favorite is "wheat is murder," which a good friend mentioned one day. I have to admit I did get rather spun up over that one. I've gotta admit, I'd never heard of that one before. I mean I like wheat. Bread is good, wheat beer is good. Well, they taste good. There's also a market out there for diet books and the like so whatever hook will sell a book seems to be the key.

Just another way for someone to harvest people's hard earned money.

Moderation in all things. Works for me. Now if I could just get someone to define what's moderate. The Missus Herself says one beer is moderation. I say two. Guess who gets to make that call. (If you guessed me, you lose.)

Climate change. The sky is falling. The ice caps are melting, all the polar bears are dying. Hokum. (And I don't mean a Soviet era helicopter.)

Not this Hokum. (Source)

The climate has been changing on this planet since it was formed. While it's an awesome idea to not screw things up by dumping crap into the water or pumping filth into the sky, it's not the West that's doing this. Try breathing in Beijing.

But I'm sure Algore made a lot of money through his environmental chicanery.

Number eight, if a method of losing weight has the word "diet" in it, it ain't gonna work. Again moderation is the key. The Air Force once had a series of fad diets that they would put us fat-challenged types on. None of them worked. Or they would work until you were down to where the higher ups wanted you, then it was break out the cheeseburgers and beer.

One thing I like about Weight Watchers is that they don't like using the word "diet." Rather they sell it as a life style change (which panicked the Hell out of me at first). Learn to eat a certain way, get off your duff and the weight comes off. It's also easy to stick with. Essentially you can eat whatever you want. It's all about the points. (In the interests of full disclosure, I have lost thirty pounds on WW, it's not that bad. Perhaps the first weight loss program I've ever been on where I don't feel hungry all the time. That is, it doesn't suck. High praise from me!)

Nine and ten go together. Why didn't I combine a few of the items on my list? Well, once I got started I wanted ten things. Has to be ten right? Going all metric I am. (NOT!)

One of my relatives once announced (when she was still a sprout, pun intended) that she was now a vegetarian. Apparently all she could eat was fried cheese sticks. Sometimes chicken fingers because apparently chickens don't count as "meat." My supposition is that veggie fanatics don't like beef. I've heard that there are some who won't eat anything that was once "alive." Hhmm, I though plants were alive. Maybe they just won't eat fellow oxygen breathers. I dunno.

So the basic premise of this post is that things are never as bad as they seem. (Unless of course you're on an old twilight zone episode where a genie gives you one wish and you ask to be an absolute dictator. Presto, it is so. Turns out that the genie made you Hitler. In April 1945. Another case of "be careful what you wish for.")

While sometimes things can be very bad indeed, stop, take a deep breath and ask yourself cui bono? To whose benefit? I find that in many cases someone, on either side of the political spectrum is pushing an agenda. Think for yourself. Don't trust the media (and Facebook is indeed part of the media), think for yourself.

Don't believe everything you read or hear. Someone else's perspective may not be actual reality. Even though Miyamoto Musashi* did point out that perception is reality. From the viewer's perspective, of course.

So my watch words are "Hey, lighten up already!" Serious people are the real troublemakers in the world!

Seriously...






* Author of the Book of Five Rings, a book which a number of Western business types bought because it was all the rage with business types in Japan. Another idea which didn't translate all that well from East to West. Of course, remember what Rudyard Kipling said...

And the end of the fight is a tombstone white with the name of the  late  deceased,
And the epitaph drear:  "A Fool lies here who tried to hustle the East."

That time I met the President

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Full disclosure- I've never met a sitting President.  Nor have I met  an ex, former, or even dead President for that matter, but that's a hell of a teaser don't you think?  I have been in an audience for two Presidents however- 41 and 42-  George H. W. Bush, and William H. Clinton.  It was so long ago for both of them that I'm shaking off a lot of cobwebs for today's post, but I remember enough of the details to make it worth your time.

In the summer of 1985, I participated in the American Legion's Boys' State program, where we set up a mock government to learn about local, state, and federal government as well as the legislative process. That led to my Senior year in high school when I took a Social Studies elective about current events.  I was hoping to get into the Naval Academy so I was packing my schedule with all kinds of academic rigor, hoping it would make me a better candidate.  Fortunately it didn't help, as the academic rigor at the Boat School would have surely done me in, at least that's what my Calculus and Physics grades in College tell me.  In the class we discussed US and global politics, the election process, and whatever were the major news stories of the day.

The hijacking of TWA Flight 847

Terrorism was one topic we drilled down into specifically because of airplane hijackings, the Beirut Barracks bombing, and others.  Terrorism was brutal back then, but mild in comparison to today's horrors.  The discussions included the event depicted above, which occurred in June of '85 and resulted in the murder of Steelworker Second Class and Diver Robert D. Stethem, of Underwater Construction Team ONE.  He posthumously received the Bronze Star for his heroism and USS Stethem (DDG-63) is named in his honor.

Boys' State and that course really piqued my interest and were probably the catalyst for a lifetime of fascination with politics and current events, not to mention a well-shared hatred of terrorists.  However, my interest has waned over the years, probably due to a better understanding of - and disgust with - the process, hence my periodic pithy political posts that I force upon you from time to time.  

But I was supposed to be telling you about that time I met the Presidents.  Fast forward to my first year in Flight School.  The National Museum of Naval Aviation was honoring President George Herbert Walker Bush with a tribute recognizing him being a Naval Aviator.

N2S KAYDET (aka Stearman) flown twice by then-Aviation Cadet Bush.

I was sitting in the VT-86 Ready Room when an instructor came in asking who wanted to go see President Bush.  With my interest in politics, and Bush being the first President I ever voted for, I quickly accepted.  I really don't remember much more about this event than where I was seated or standing- high up and far away, and that he mentioned how cold it was flying that open cockpit in the winter.  They dedicated the above airplane to him, and have his logbook nearby, showing the Bureau Number listed for two training flights.

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Seeing Bush might have been more memorable had it been more difficult.  I think we just showed up about an hour early, went through a metal detector, and took our places.  I don't remember the security being all that rigorous, but then again, we were on a Navy base, we were all Naval Aviators or students, and the political discourse was a bit more civilized than it is today.

I think it started to get less amicable when this guy was elected.  In 1996, President Clinton visited the USS INDEPENDENCE (CV-62) which was  docked at her homeport in Yokosuka Japan.  What I remember most is how much of a pain in the ass that event was.  And while I didn't vote for Clinton, It would be unfair to blame him for the misery incurred that day.

A week or so ago, I read a post somewhere regarding some Air Force leadership that had completely overstepped their authority by administratively punishing some pilots they thought had taken drugs, even when the evidence didn't support it.  While not exactly the same sort of situation, it made me think about the crazy decisions each step of the chain of command might make to either impress, or eliminate concern from- the next higher link in the chain.  If their immediate superior isn't happy, then nobody is happy.  Unfortunately, making the lowest rung of that ladder happy isn't part of the equation.

"We had to get dressed up for this guy?"

Several of those decision were probably made in the days leading up to President Clinton's visit.   Leadership wanted to ensure a big crowd for the President so each squadron was given a quota for participation based on the number of personnel.  The VS-21 Fighting Redtails comprised the largest squadron in CVW-5 so we had to send the most men to the Indy.  I don't remember exactly how many of us were on the bus, but I do remember it being quite full.  The CO had asked for volunteers, but only had a few, and I was not one of them.   I had no interest in seeing President Clinton, maybe because we didn't share a set of politics, but probably because putting on a dress uniform and taking up half or more of my weekend wasn't high on my list of things I like to do.  Whether I was just unlucky, or I had ticked off the OPSO, I have no idea, but my number came up.  The wife even decided to accompany me, which only allowed some other lucky bastard in my squadron to get off scot-free.  I should have figured out some sort of angle where I could have profited from her decision, but I guess I was too bummed out to think of it.

Even though the President wasn't due to show up until around 1400, we had to show up for the bus from Atsugi to Yoko, usually a 90 minute drive depending on traffic, at 0900.  I'm not sure who made that decision, but I'm sure it wasn't anyone who had to go.  We arrived at the bus on time, only to find out that it wasn't scheduled to leave until 1000.  Apparently at least a little common sense was found by someone, but not by anyone who thought to tell the unlucky few.  Traffic was unremarkable on the freeway so we arrived around 1115.

Another bright idea from someone was that we were told not to bring a single solitary thing except our ID cards.  That meant no wallets, keys, change, or more importantly- water bottles and sunscreen.  I don't remember what time of year it was, but we were in Service Dress Blues as you can see in the picture above, and it was quite warm. Standing in the sun, on a steel flight deck, wearing SDBs and Corfram shoes was damn hot - Africa hot.  I remember getting a sunburn on my face because I quickly sweated off the sunscreen I had applied before leaving the bus.  

The lack of water was somewhat of a problem since it was warm, but probably a good idea since we weren't allowed to go inside the skin of the ship to use the head- we had to go back to the pier to use the porta-johns they had set up for the occasion.  I guess allowing us in the ship was too much of a security risk.

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The President's helo was over an hour late.  I have no idea who to blame for that once, but I remember actually getting a little excited when he landed.  Not to see him, but that I knew our misery was that much closer to ending.  After the requisite donning of the flight jacket that you see below, he made some remarks about us out here on the tip of the spear, being a valuable part of National Defense Policy.  Other than that I don't recall.

Well, to paraphrase Forrest Gump- that's all I got to say about that.  Would I do it again if I had a choice?  Absolutely not.  While the opportunity to see a sitting President might sound exciting, it's far more trouble than it's worth.  Because of the precautions were were ordered to take, arriving so early to get through security lines didn't take any time at all.  If we had been seated while waiting, it probably wouldn't have been as rough as it was, but we were there to mob the flight deck and it was standing room only, no sitting allowed.  Hmm.  This was probably when my opinion of politics started to turn.

If it had been another Republican President I might consider going to see him or her, but probably not.  If it's Clinton's wife someday?  Take a guess.  If it ever came down me to being told that I have to go?

I'll pay someone to take their wife.