Thirty years ago today Saigon fell to the Communist North Vietnamese. As I was not quite 1 year old on April 30, 1975, I have no direct knowledge of the events of that time. But an interesting thing happened to me this week; I met one of the Marines that was pulled from the roof of the American Embassy in Saigon 30 years ago. His name is *name removed* and he came out this week to repair my furnace. Small world, eh? The first thing he asked was “Who’s the Jarhead?”

My buddy MarineLiberal1775 over at A Liberal Marine’s Progressive Perspective has it right I think. Every Marine has their war/conflict that they enjoy researching. His is the Civil War, mine is Vietnam. I still don’t know enough about mine however. Time happens to be a commodity I don’t have when it comes to researching Vietnam. But I digress.

The body count from that war notwithstanding, both Vietnamese civilian (approx 2 mil) and American military(58,000+), Vietnam as a unified Communist country seems to have recovered quite well according to reports that I’ve read. CNN reports that business is “booming” now. However, my thoughts are not so much on how great it is to be Vietnamese right now, but rather on the men and women that lost their lives over there.

Those 58,000+ names inscribed in black granite cried out to me back in 1993 when I saw The Wall for the first time. Now mind you, I have no blood relatives nor close friends on the Wall, yet the tears flowed just the same. For some reason, Vietnam calls out to me like no other war/battle/conflict in history ever has.

To those who served in that ill-conceived war and never returned, You Are Not Forgotten. To those who served and made it back, Welcome home brother/sister. For everyone else, thank a Vietnam Veteran today. In fact, thank a Veteran of ANY war or conflict today and everyday. But remember what Smedley Butler said: War is a Racket.

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Sorry everyone. We closed on our house last week and things have been very hectic. In fact, I’m even composing this post from my PDA/phone. We get our broadband service reconnected tomorrow, thank God. I should be back online by the weekend. See you all then!

Is it me, or does Attorney General Alberto Gonzales kind of look like George Lopez?

They’re coming again. It’s almost as if I can smell them. Tall men, dark shades, long coats to hide the weaponry they most certainly have. The powers that be usually send 4 to 6 men. The equivalent of a fire-team. Very effective at moving swiftly, silently, and with death at their fingers.

With as close as they’ve come recently, I wonder if they haven’t planted a tracer on me. Since being on the lam, I no longer have access to the equipment needed to scan myself. I have my thoughts who may be behind this, but I don’t want to vocalize them. Yet. If they do have me “tagged”, it won’t be long before they have me “bagged” too. I’ve got to get to Scotty’s.
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I remember going to Kate’s, but I forget how I got in. I guess my current state of mind and lack of food has caused a temporary memory leak. All I know is my belly is full again and my thirst abated. You can’t go wrong with lukewarm beer and beef jerky, I tell you.

Kate was an old friend who used to run a bar I frequented. I say used to because she was killed 2 days ago. Damn it! These people know too much about me already. I’ve taken a chance coming here, but I knew where Kate left the spare key to the joint. Now that I’ve caught a couple of hours rest, I need to leave again. Whoever is hunting me is getting closer. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle with each passing moment. It’s not safe for me here anymore.
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In the shadows of darkness, those silent strangers disappear into the mist. Their footsteps are muted against the cobblestone streets. Where they’re going, no one knows. Where they’ve been, no one tells.

I sit on my milk-crate chair, alone, four stories above the street in this abandoned warehouse. Staring out the windows and pacing. Pacing and staring out the windows. I have been here for three days and counting now. Watching. Waiting. Hiding. Will they find me? Not if I can help it.

Whatever it is that I’ve done to arouse their suspicions, I don’t know. Perhaps my speech was bit too angry. Maybe my words struck a nerve. Perhaps they saw me as a threat. Either way, it’s too late now. They know who I am. They have tracked down everyone I have ever known in their attempts to find me. My heart grieves for the gratuitous violence and loss of life that has befallen my family, my friends.

In boot-camp many years ago, I thought I knew the meaning of true loneliness. I was wrong. Imagine, if you will, no friends to talk with, no family to console you, no wife to make love to, no one at all to share in your plight. Now, couple that with being hunted, and you will know what I am going through.

As morning breaks, I slip from my hiding spot and quietly creep along the alleys looking for something, anything, to eat. It’s been two days since my last meal. As I drift, I keep trying to justify this all in my head. WHY?? Why me? Why now? I remember an old country song that said, “you’ve got to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.” Is this what standing for something has gotten me? The pounding in my head and ringing in my ears is preventing me from really analyzing my situation; I’ve got to find some food.

On to Chapter 2

We’ve all seen the Miss America/World/Universe/Etc. pageants where damn-near everyone of the contestants talks about how they would wish for world peace or other such nonsense.

Well, I want to know: How would you change the world? What steps would you take? Assuming no obstacles at all, how would you do it? Where would you start?

Your answers can range from the silly to the serious, the ridiculous to the realistic. The only thing I ask is try to keep them logical.
For instance:
Goal: Convert all energy sources from fossil-based fuels to renewable resources.
Step 1: Kill off our current government in order to foster new thinking and better funding for renewable resource research.
Step 2: Implement the best ideas over a reasonable amount of time; say 2 days. (Hey, no obstacles, right?)
Step 3: Retire from business and take over my grandfather’s kelp farm now that efficient energy can be had by all.

But seriously, How would you do it?

Pope John Paul II has died.

Although I am not Catholic, this announcement has me feeling kind of weird. I’m not quite mourning his passing, nor am I joyous in the news of his death. I really don’t know much about the Pope or the makeup of the Catholic Church, but, for the millions of Catholics around the world, I feel a bit of sympathy. All of the Mainstream news organizations are showing non-stop coverage of the Pope’s death. Personally, I find this kind of invasive.

From what I have read and seen so far, I guess within the next 15 days or so, a new Pope will be elected. One would hope that the new Pope’s guidance and wisdom will help shape world policies on many new areas. One would also hope that the new Pope will be selected from another tradition-breaking locale., as Pope John Paul II was. I have seen it rumored that the next Pope could be Latin American, or even African. Latin America, it’s been said, has a very devout Catholic community. Africa represents an area of the world where Catholicism is expanding at break-neck speeds. Regardless of who the next Pope is, or from whence he comes, Catholics the world over will probably never again see a Pope whose edicts were as far-reaching as John Paul II’s.

By all accounts the Pope was a good man; an honest man. He will be remembered by many as the man who took steps to promote peace, and if not unify, at least show respect to other world religions.

To those of you who ARE Catholic that read my blog, my thoughts and prayers go out to you in this time of mourning.

Terri Schiavo has finally passed away. I could go on and on with the jokes about how it’s about time she lost some weight, but that would be in poor taste. It’s a shame, really, that her parents just couldn’t let go. The anguish they must have felt for every day of the last 15 years must have been damn near unbearable. As a parent myself, I would also find it hard to let go if my daughter or son were in the state that Terri was in, but would have to do just that. However, the real shame needs to be placed upon our legislators (read Senate and House Republicans). They showed, once again, that they will do whatever is necessary to win in the court of public opinion.

My real problem with the emergency legislation that has been brought forth recently as it pertains to the Schiavo case, is that these same legislators that lambast Senate and House Democrats for backing what they call “activist” judges, tried to turn Judge Greer into exactly that. So my question then, is “Are your activist judges better than our activist judges”? Shall we set-up a Steel Cage Match to determine the outcome?

I Don’t Think So. Although it would be interesting to see on pay-per-view.

Judge Greer ruled upon the letter of the law, as emotionally painful as it may have been. To do otherwise would be to compromise his oath of office. The congregation of his church should be ashamed for kicking him out. So-called Christians the world over should be ashamed for calling him a murderer and other such names.

So, in closing, I’d like to say Thank You, Judge Greer. Even though your private life now seems ruined because of all of the media exposure, you did the right thing. Michael Schiavo, forgive your in-laws. Assuming you really were acting in Terri’s best interests and following her wishes, forgive Bob and Mary Schindler. It’s the only way you can go on with a clear conscience. Terri, wherever you are*, I’m glad you are finally at peace after all these years.

*Feel free to draw your own conclusions about the afterlife. I know what I believe, whether it’s right or wrong.