The War - Part 1

Every once in a while, I feel like getting my blood boiling. Not irrationally angry for the hell of it, just extremely agitated over some non-sensible theory or idea masquerading as conventional wisdom, maybe even "truth". In the past, I would accomplish this by simply reading the op-ed page of the New York Times. Alas, that is no longer possible or practical. I'm not even sure where the op-ed page of the Times is even located anymore. Nowadays, it seems to start on the front page and end on the last page. Besides, putting one penny in the pocket of the likes of Maureen Dowd, Paul Krugman or Frank Rich somehow feels unseemly, almost unjust. So now, when I'm in the mood to be in a bad mood, I visit the Defense and National Interest website. There is a lot of good writing and good ideas on this site, most of which centers around the thinking and theories of Col. John R. Boyd, USAF. Unfortunately, far too many of the contributors to this site treat Boyd as some mystical god who has uncovered the secrets of the universe with themselves of course as his apostles. Not all of them are like this and Boyd is not the subject of this post. This series is based more on a reaction to a post I read this morning on d-n-i concerning Afghanistan.

The post in question is here and is by William Lind. It is in many ways a reflection of the current thinking in both houses of Congress, the White House, the media, perhaps the Pentagon and more importantly, a majority of the American people. My agitation is not so much at the details of what Mr. Lind has written but in the theme and context he places the current struggle in Afghanistan. That context is looking at the "war" in Afghanistan as simply that; The Afghanistan War.

Shaping policy for Afghanistan strictly in the context of that nation only is a huge mistake. The struggle in Afghanistan is not a war unto itself. It is a theater of operations in a wider global conflict. This conflict escalated on 11 September 2001 but started long before that date. In order to understand the conflict, one needs to understand the enemy. Not the flesh and blood enemy, but the ideology that drives them to fight. I can go on and on trying to do so and will most likely continue to mention this ideology in future posts of this series. However, as an introduction to this ideology I will leave it the writings of someone far more eloquent and knowledgeable on the subject than myself.

Below are a series of links to articles written by Ibn Warraq, an apostate to Islam who has taken up the mantle of studying the inconsistencies within the Islamic religion which has led to the advent of what we call "Radical Islam". As I said, he is an apostate from Islam, a former Muslim schooled in a madrasah of Pakistan at an early age. Later, he was educated at a boarding school in England. It may be wise to read what he has to say. The below articles were written between January and March of 2009. They can be found, along with other writings at the New English Review, which an be accessed here. I've chosen these specific articles because they touch on not only the totalitarian nature of Islam but also on the nature of those apologists in the West who seem to help shape the current "conventional wisdom" of our decision makers. With that, read on:

1. Apologists of Totalitarianism: From Communism to Islam, Part I

2. Apologists of Totalitarianism: From Communism to Islam, Part II

3. Apologists of Totalitarianism: From Communism to Islam, Part III

4. Apologists of Totalitarianism: From Communism to Islam, Part IV


As I said, this will be a series of posts covering the nature of the current war and it's scope. At times it will be complicated and deep. More to follow.

Am I Being Sexist #2

The previous post, "Am I Being Sexist", left off with a hypothetical question. Let me start off with stating that I'm not overly protective of women nor view them as weak, defenseless and gullible. I've been hit over the head with enough purses and punched to learn that women are far from weak and defenseless. With women who are good, close friends, yes I can be protective but not in an overbearing way. It's more like providing over watch.

However, with all the gains women have made over the years in terms of equality, I have still witnessed enough attitudes from men when there are no women around that illustrates a theme on non-acceptance of women as equal partners. I use the terms "equal partners" not in the sense that we are all equal across the board, we're not, but in terms of opportunity. Not all women are innocent little angels either. Putting on a facade of professionalism and respect towards a female coworker or in whatever interaction that may transpire between you, a man, and a woman is just that, a facade. Try being genuine once in a while. You would be surprised what may happen.

Am I Being Sexist?

There's this thought that has been running through the back of my mind lately concerning the interactions between men and women. No, it's not a dirty thought which is surprising and somewhat scary since that may be an indication that I'm getting old. Perhaps I may need to visit the doctor on that one. Seriously though, here's the deal.

I've seen a lot of examples of men interacting with women over the years, both when they are face to face and also behind the doors of the "men only" clubhouse. In other words, how men act and what they say in front of women and then how they act and talk when those women aren't around. To be honest with you, it disgusts me. I'm no saint; I can swear and say some pretty nasty stuff myself concerning women. Sometimes even shock the shockers. But it's usually in a context not directed at a specific person and meant more to simply shock rather than show a reflection on myself. But when I see and hear how too many men are, it starts to get really irritating because it's all so fake.

With that in mind, over the years I've found myself becoming more protective of women. I have a lot of friends that are female and I have to say, I think I've given them more relationship and dating advice than I have to the guys I know. Hell, I was giving dating advice to my ex-wife after the divorce. How messed up is that! But the advice is more along the lines of letting them into the "men only" clubhouse. Telling them what may really be going on. The reason for this is because I feel sorry for these women and don't want to see them getting taken advantage of by some ignoramus whose brain evolved in the wrong piece of anatomy. It's also because I don't want to hear a friend of mine talked about that way. It really comes down to just respect for another human being.

So here's the problem. I'm wondering if perhaps I've gone so far over in the opposite direction that I'm actualy being sexist but in a different way. See, I'm not sure if I'm looking at it as respect for another human being or if I'm looking at it as "these weak, gullible, defenseless women need my help". That makes me wonder; am I being just as bad as the men I despise? Am I a sexist also?

I forgot about this...

I was going through old emails looking for a specific one I wrote last year. But I found one I had forgotten all about. While I was deployed, I met someone on-line and from a few short emails, a long conversation started. We laughed, we cried, we talked. Oh man did, we talk. This person has become a very good friend since those times. I still call just to chit chat and end up spending a few hours on the phone talking about everything.

The great thing about our emails to each other is that they were rapid and long. I could always expect to wake up in the morning to the message "Good Morning, Sunshine!" which, despite detecting the sarcasm in the words, always brought a smile to my face. There would be emails fired off all day with most as replies to a previous one, forming chains. Since I was a little more than 8 hours ahead of the States that meant that we were writing to each other at all hours. For me, those emails made the time go by faster and were an escape from the day to day life of a deployment. For that, I owe this person much gratitude.

Below is one of those emails. The original email was titled "LMAO" ( Laugh My Ass Off ) and had started as a response to something I had written that made this person laugh. The day before I wrote this, I had found out about Rahmeen passing away and had mentioned it, that was email#8 in this chain. In #11, she told me how a friend's son had committed suicide and how she felt. What I have pasted below is the twelfth and final email of "LMAO". Maybe someone will read this at a time when they need that little boost to keep going.

RE:LMAO


I'm sorry for your friend's loss. Though they will have to live with this, they should not blame themselves. There is only so much a person can do for others. Ultimately, it is each of us as individuals that decide how we live our lives. Others may offer something, but it is you and you alone who decides whether or not to accept it. That is the burden of being a parent, friend, husband, wife and leader. Things happen for a reason and no matter how hard you try to change it, if it is meant to happen then it will. That is the side of life that sucks.

I'm also sorry if I made you cry the other day. I didn't mean to. But I am happy that you did and happy that you got angry. Because it means that you care about more than yourself and those close to you. That gives me faith and hope that this world hasn't totally gone to hell.

I'm going to type out a poem for you that a friend of mine gave me over here. Maybe it will help you someday. Consider it a gift. It's called "Desiderata".

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there
may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with
all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to
the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive
persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always
there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements
as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is
a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not
this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and
everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it
is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress
yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the
universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And
whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever
your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be
cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

I think you've had enough emotional news these past few days. If you write back before I write again, start a fresh email. I will do the same. LMAO is old. Take care and stay warm ( just trying to help you think Fall is here).

Chris

Where do we go from here?

" Well, I guess I'll be busy tonight visiting all the convenience stores and beating people up." said the ignorant ass I worked with shortly after 9/11. "Really? But not everyone working at a convenience store is a Muslim. How will you know which ones to beat up?" I asked. "Easy, if they're wearing a turban, they get beat up." He said. " You idiot, Sikhs wear turbans. They didn't do this." I said, "You're going to beat up the wrong people. Since you don't know anything, let me help you. First we'll go to the restaurant I hang out at. The owner is a friend of mine and Muslim. Then we can go to this other restaurant where a friend of mine works as a waiter. He's Muslim too. Afterwards, we can go to my home and you can beat up my wife".


I didn't think of today's date right away this morning. It hit me on the drive to work. When I realized what day it was I had been mulling over a subject that has been part of several conversations I've been having lately with several people at different times and places. The subject was if life was predetermined. Several nights ago, I couldn't sleep; too much thinking lately. I was hungry so I made something to eat and went on Yahoo. While I was eating I saw an update on a blog I read, so I checked it out. It had been posted three hours earlier. The post was nothing but a question; "Do we shape our own destinies, or is everything predefined and we just have to walk blindfolded in this journey of life?" This was eerie because at the exact time this post was published to the site, I had been discussing this very same subject with a friend of mine. It's been on my mind these past few days, among other things. So I'm wearing a uniform driving to a job at an organization that is part of a war that didn't really start on 9/11 but certainly escalated that day. And I asked myself "How did I get here"?


The Personal:


As complicated as my life was up until 10 September 2001, those complications magnified ten fold on the 11th of September because the next day, 12 September 2001 , I got married to a woman who was Turkish ... and Muslim. There are a myriad of issues that arise in an intercultural/inter-religious marriage which I'll not get into at this time because it's a topic that would require a whole other post. But those issues exist and would have existed in our marriage whether 9/11 happened or not. Those difficulties became more complex on 9/11 and new issues arose for our marriage on that specific day, even though we weren't married yet. Muslims carried out the attacks and did so in the name of Islam. Because they did so in the name of Islam, their actions were in the name of or on behalf of Muslims, at least from the perpetrators point of view. Was I at the World Trade Center or the Pentagon when the attacks happened? No, but I was attacked because the targets weren't so much the buildings but ideas, beliefs, culture and so on that were associated with those buildings. Because I am an American, I am associated with those symbols. That put me in the camp of the attacker's enemy which in turn made them my enemy. The woman who would be my wife the next day was Muslim. Since the attacks were carried out on the behalf of Muslims, they were carried out on behalf of her. This put her in the camp of my enemy and so made her my enemy... in theory. She wasn't of course because I loved her. How could she be my enemy if I loved her? It makes no sense. Because I loved her I wanted to protect her from those that would do her harm. You don't protect your enemies. My, my, isn't this confusing.


On September 11 2001 the world changed and yet it didn't. My world changed though. That day did not start a war, it only escalated one that had started before. On that day, I entered that war whether I liked it or not. But I entered it confused as to who was the enemy. On a larger level, Al Qaeda was the "enemy", obviously. But they were also the "enemy" on a personal level because they would potentially do harm to the woman I loved. If they were successful in bringing about their vision it would impact her. She is an intelligent, talented, beautiful woman who has something to offer the world. If they win, all that could be wasted as she would be consigned to a life not as a human being but as a piece of property. Because she is a Muslim woman who married me, an infidel, by Al Qaeda's view of Islam her punishment is death. And so, out of love, I must defend and protect her; I really have no choice. But also out of love, I must defend and protect her from people like the ignorant ass in the story I started this post with. In theory, he is my ally and compatriot in this war by virtue of his citizenship, but in reality that's not quite true. He is a person who would do potential harm to someone I love because of who she is. I must defend and protect her because I love her so he is my "enemy" also. So once again, I ask "Who is my enemy"? But I also ask "Why are they my enemy?"


The Next Step:


Why are they my enemy? Well I ponder this question and the answer gets complex. Take the ignorant ass for example. He is not my "enemy" per se, he is just another human being. He becomes my "enemy" when he acts on an idea that can harm someone I love. It is an emotional response that drives him to act on the idea which in turn carries out the idea. That emotional response is caused by the actions of others who did the same thing though with a "different" idea. Him being my "enemy" is based on the idea that he is wrong, but it is driven by an emotional response to him and his actions. My emotional response to him is one of anger based on an idea of right and wrong but the anger is derived from my emotion of love. The same holds true in terms of Al Qaeda. Al Qaeda is a movement, an idea. The actions of the people who are in Al Qaeda are driven by their emotional response to that idea which causes others to act on an emotional response to the same and other ideas which leads to even more ideas and more emotional responses. And so on and so on and so on. Culture, religion, science, philosophy, morals, ideologies, etc. etc., are the big grand "ideas" that govern and move our world. We may not think or even know about these grand ideas but they effect us at the personal level. Simultaneously, those effects cause us to do things which effect these ideas at a higher, larger level. As concepts, logic and emotion are opposite "realms" so to speak. But these opposites exist in each of us, so we deal with each everyday, every minute, every second. If we tried to organize the world on pure logic, we would most likely destroy ourselves which, paradoxically seems illogical. If we acted purely on emotion, we would not be humans, but simply another form of animal since emotions are really a form of instinct which is what drives the actions of animals. So there is a tug of war going on between both "realms" and this tug of war actually drives both "realms". What governs both of these "realms" and keeps one from overcoming the other is wisdom. Oddly enough, wisdom is derived from both logic and emotion. Is your head spinning yet? Mine is and I'm the one who is writing it. Now this is important to the subject of this post but is not the real subject of this post. However, you need to think about it and take it into account when you contemplate what you have read. With that I will move on.


So I still have to answer the question "How did I get here?" meaning this point in my life. At this point in my life I am a soldier in the United States Army. That army is involved in a war, a large war over big, grand ideas. I don't play any big role or make huge decisions concerning this war yet I still have a role. There is no one single reason I am involved in this war. There are many that have led me to be a part of it and these reasons are all interconnected in some way. One is my now ex-wife. Our marriage is over; it ended in 2006. She has remarried and has a good life. We are still friends, in fact I consider her one of my best friends. I still love her but in a different way. It's not a romantic love but something bigger and deeper. It's very hard to explain. It is also the topic of a different post at another time because to explain things would mean this post will never end. Suffice it to say, at the personal level, she is the reason I fight. I described her before as an intelligent, talented beautiful woman and that is true. She is so much smarter than I in so many ways. Because of those traits, because of who she is, she has something to offer the world. She has the potential to effect changes in a positive way. If she was consigned to a life of only making babies and serving a man; a life where she could not go to school, learn and make choices; a life as a second class person or even a piece of property then it would be a waste of a human being and the world would suffer for that loss. Not in any large way would it suffer but in some small way. And so, because I love her I fight for her in order that she live in a world where she can have choices and be free to be who she is. That is the emotional or personal level.


Since I see what I've just described in my ex-wife, it stands to reason that there are other Muslim women like her in the world today. There are, I know this because I have met them in so many different ways. Some are friends and family of hers. Others are total strangers whose stories I've read. One writes a blog I read and others comment on that blog. Each one in their own unique way have something to offer the world in the choices they make. If there are these women in the "Muslim world" then there must be more in other "worlds" also. Our world is small and interconnected so if the Al Qaeda idea "wins" it would effect these women also in the same way. Now, it also stands to reason that if there are women like this, there are also men who, if allowed to learn and question what effects their life, will make positive impacts on the world. Oh yeah, there are also children, some not born yet, who will do the same... if allowed. If I think the Al Qaeda idea "winning" will end the freedom of my ex-wife, then I must also conclude it will do the same to all these other people. So when I fight, it is for all of them. Not to impose one way on them, but to give them a world to choose what way they think is right and change their mind if they see fit. I will stand against totalitarianism no matter what name or form it takes. That is who I am because that is who I have become and I have become that person because that is my role in the grand scheme of things.


On Predestination:


A long time ago, I got into a debate with a guy about whether life was predetermined or not. Being in my twenties and headstrong, I totally disagreed. "No way something or someone had laid out my life and all the things I did were predetermined. I had free will and made my own choices". No matter how I argued it though, I could not win the argument. The other guy countered everything I said in a logical way. So I left the debate aggravated and refusing to accept the idea.


Later in life, after many experiences, some good and some bad, I started to come around to the idea that life is predetermined. It's a complicated story, but basically I started with the question why? So I mapped my life backwards, retracing the steps all the way. Not just the events, but also the people involved in those events and what had happened to them. Some things I know because those people are still around. Other things I don't. Some questions remain to be answered because time still marches on. What I began to see was all these interconnections and patterns. This led me to realize that the things that had happened in the past had to happen in order to bring about where I am today. But it's not just about me, it's about all the people who have had an effect or influence on me. Certain things had to happen to them in order for our lives to intersect. It grows and grows into this huge amount of interconnections between people throughout time and space. It's a very complex thought and hard to comprehend therefore hard to explain. The best way to do so is with examples which I will do in future posts or responses to comments.

The point is, things happen in our lives for a reason. We don't know what those reasons are when something happens because we don't see the effects right away. Sometimes we never see the effects. Sometimes we see the effects but there are so many degrees of separation that we don't know we contributed to them. When people think about whether life is predetermined, they think of it in terms of their life. In this context, it can be depressing because what's the point? If my life is predetermined and I have no say, I mind as well just sit back and let it happen. You see, that's the mistake. If my life is predetermined, then so is everyone elses' which means there is a bigger story going on that we all play a role in. Now go back and reread some things I have written about myself. The personal level and the higher level? My small role in a large war and the effects on myself and those around me. Maybe go back and read some past posts. Ask yourself the question why? Why did he write this? Why am I reading it? How did I even find this blog? Did I even find it or did it find me? What had to happen in order for me to be here right now reading these words? I would be curious to hear your stories.

A Funny Thing Happened The Other Day.

I met someone this past week. Well, kinda... sorta... in a way. I didn't really meet this person but it feels like I did... somewhat...kinda...sorta. See, it happened on that crazy, topsy turvy thing we call the Internet. The Internet is a crazy place, if you can actually call it a place. It's like a long, never ending hallway with millions of doors along each side. There is no beginning to the hallway and no end. When you enter the hallway, it is from one of these doors and you have a choice to go left or right (I mean that in a non-political way). You can head in one direction and then turn around and head in the other. You can open one door or try to open all the doors. When you open a door and look in, you see a room with more doors on each wall. Each of these doors lead to another room and each room leads circuitously back to the hallway. Some rooms are light, some are dark but they all are filled with things.

Ok people, it's a metaphor for how I met this person. I opened a door and then another door and then another. I came across a room where I stopped a while because I was curious about the things in the room. Those "things" were the words this person wrote and the words other people wrote in response. So I hung around a while and then I decided to visit this "room" more often because I like it. You don't have to like it, you don't have to visit it. That's not the point of this post. It's just background information.

You see, when I was visiting this person's site, it was like I was having a conversation with that person. Except I wasn't talking, just listening. After a while of listening, I had a feeling that I figured this person out; that I had come to know this person...kinda... sorta. So I took a chance and wrote a post about this person. Lo and behold, she read it and talked about it on her site, even shared it with her readers. I got a nice, kind of weird, feeling from the whole exchange. It's hard to explain. You see, it was like I had this brief, momentary connection with another person somewhere in the world despite barriers; a kind of understanding. All well and good.

But then I noticed something the other day. I had five followers. Whoa, I thought, when did this happen? I knew there were more than just the two shown but they are friends and family that stop in from time to time. So I checked out who these new people were. Well, one of them is a certain rebellious arab girl I kind of, sort of know. The other two I can only guess came from her site and I don't know. It's good because a lot of people don't really listen to me anyway so the more the merrier. Still, I had to pause for a minute and think about this because these new people change the dynamics of my blog. So I'll take a little time to explain what this site is about.

First off, welcome to my world. Glad you stopped by and hope you stay. Don't be scared, it may seem a little crazy and confusing but it's not that bad. Kinda...sorta...he,he, he. Just kidding. Now to the nitty gritty.

I like to think and I like conversation. Some of my most enjoyable times were spent in a diner with my best friend drinking multiple cups of coffee and talking for hours about anything and everything. I've had some pretty deep conversations and some pretty deep thoughts. For a long time now, my life has become this quest for understanding myself, the world around me and even at times the universe I live in. Oh yeah, I end up talking about it. Over the years, people I talk to have suggested I write about these things, even start a blog. I usually dismissed the idea for a variety of reasons; "Who would read it? Who would want to read it? I don't have the time. Some of this stuff is complex and I'm not sure how to communicate it. Some of it's personal and I can't really talk about it". Back in July, I finally gave in because I had an idea. My idea was to start a site that had multiple aspects to it. I'll go into the details of this idea in a seperate post but suffice it to say this blog is a possible seed for this idea. As you can tell, I sometimes...OK most of the time...get long winded. Sorry, I can't help it.

Anyway, what I'm trying to do with my little site here is have an exercise in thought. I've just recently started so there is not much here. The posts cover different topics, sometimes in a general way and sometimes not. There will be times when it is just my opinion, other times just an idea or concept I have that I'm throwing out to the public. The point of this is that I want a discussion. I want feedback of all sorts. Agree, disagree, even build on an idea and expand it. You see, I've had a lot of experiences and learned from them. That's caused me to live with certain values, philosophies, morals and such. But I don't just simply reach a point and stop. I periodically, if not constantly, question myself and reevaluate what I think. Just to make sure they still hold true. Different viewpoints help to accomplish that.

The reason I paused with things when I saw new visitors is that I'm aware people have different backgrounds and perceptions and that means when they first come to the site they will make a judgement. There are reasons I have things the way they are but since you don't really know me you won't know those reasons. The quote at the top of the page has some meaning to me that is not necessarily political. It can be interpreted in different ways. The sites listed on the side are there for my convenience as are the news feeds. It's sometimes easier to click over there than to open new tabs. You may find some of them offensive. No one is forcing you to visit them. I don't agree with everything on those sites but I still read stuff I don't agree with. It's called thinking. I do have some ground rules. I would like any comments to be civil, not just name calling. Like I said, the purpose is a discussion, maybe even a debate or argument. Not a shouting match but a reasoned argument. If people write a lot or wish to contribute an article or post, send it to me. I would like to one day add permissions so this site becomes more than mine. I will be adding contact information soon.

I have changed some of what I write lately. It has been more personal, more about me. There are reasons for this. I wrote a post about someone else because she told me about herself. Since that has led her here, along with others, it seems only fair that I tell them about me. My experiences and the experiences of those who have in some way touched my life are what has shaped who I am. In order to understand what I'm talking about you need to understand me. Our perceptions change as we find out more information. You may judge me one way now but the more you learn about me your perception will change. Secondly, there is an underlying theme to what I write and it's a theme developed from living my life. If you know the background, you will understand where I am coming from.

I mentioned an underlying theme. It does and will run throughout this blog. It's your job to figure out what that theme is. Hell, I'm not exactly sure where it's going. When I write a post, I don't just blurt something out. There is a lot of thought that goes into it. The subject is sometimes hard to figure out, maybe even subtle or hidden. That could be because it's a concept I'm thinking about or it could be on purpose. Like I said, it's an exercise in thought. So I only ask that when you read a post, think about it, maybe even reread it and then comment. That's the fun of this.

So, welcome aboard, hold on and enjoy the ride.

Why Do I Do This To Myself?

Sometimes my mind is my own worst enemy. I do a lot of thinking. All the time. We all do that, it's how we function. But with me it's real bad. You see, at any given time there are thousands of different thoughts, ideas, tidbits of information circulating inside my head. Each one is like a little, individual dot floating around. Stupid me is always running around trying to draw lines to connect these dots. Who knows, maybe I have some form of OCD. Now, most of the time it's not that bad but every once in a while I go into overdrive. When that happens it's like a roller coaster ride or flying through the air at supersonic speeds. I'm using these analogies because I don't really know how to describe what's going on. It's a time of highs and lows, energy and exhaustion. Eventually, I come down from the ride and everything goes back to "normal". It can last for weeks though. I'm going through one of those periods right now. I don't know when it started and I don't know when it will die down so please be patient with me.

To an outsider, it's not really noticeable. I seem normal. If you've known me for a long time though you will have learned to pick up on the signs. And like a siren wailing a warning of an impending tornado, friends and family have learned to take cover and hope they're not in the path of the tornado. The signs are subtle. There will be days when I'm very quiet but look agitated. I get restless, pacing around the house, going out for drives to no where, finding a coffee shop or truck stop and getting a cup of coffee then just sitting there observing and thinking. There are frequent trips to the bookstore and hours spent reading, everything from articles to books to blogs. I don't get much sleep during these times because as tired as I get, when I lay down and close my eyes my mind is still racing. God forbid you are the one to accidentally call me during one of these episodes or even worse, answer the phone when I call you. My friend Joe made that mistake the other night. It went something like this:

Phone rings
Me: "Hello, what's up?"
Joe: "Hey, not much. What's up with you?"
Me: "Nothing really."
Joe: "What are you doing?"
Me:" Just sitting here in the parking lot of Dunkin Donuts thinking."
Joe: "What are you thinking about?" (Note to readers, this is a big mistake)
Me: "I don't know. A lot of things. I'm kind of all over the place."
Joe: Knowing chuckle sound
Me: "How's Lisa and the kids?"
Joe tells me something about his wife and kids.
Me: " That's funny. You know, I was just thinking about back when we had the band. Remember how we came up with songs. I wonder why..."

An hour or two later either the cell phone battery has gone dead or we realize it's late and say our goodbyes. We also have that moment at the end of the conversation where one of us asks how we got on the last topic we were talking about. This is because each topic has segued into the other and though they are different subjects, each are interconnected.

So what is this post really about? Well, like I said, I'm going through one of these episodes right now. This morning I woke up, made a pot of coffee and started the process all over again. So far I have sat outside on the steps thinking about what I thought about yesterday, expanding on my thoughts. I have gone on the Internet and checked email, checked Facebook to see that everyone is just posting nothing interesting and then started surfing news sites and such. And that's the problem. See, I came across this. It's a list of five books about the working world. Most of you will probably think " So What? They sound boring". And at a certain time I would probably agree with you. But not now. I read the little synopsis for each one and the light bulbs started firing off in my head. "Whoa, I need to read these. There are themes in these books that tie into what I'm currently thinking about". Here's the problem; Remember how I mentioned recently that I started reading "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"? It's been hard to get into reading because it requires concentration. That's hard to do when your mind is racing all over the place. It's also hard to do when you have a roommate who watches TV or talks loud on the phone. And now, NOW I have these five books calling to me. Tempting me and pulling me away from Mr. Gibbon's tedious three volume compilation of thirteen hundred years of history.

I feel like a young man who has decided to take the plunge and commit to the challenge of marriage who then has 5 other women tempting him away. OK, I know, that's a little melodramatic. My point is why am I like this? In writing this post I think I have come up with a term to describe myself. I am a mental masochist. I drive myself crazy with torturous thinking and thinking and yet somehow derive enjoyment from doing so. Now that I have determined what I am, a mental masochist, I am asking myself "But why? Why am I like this? How did I get to be this way?" Dear readers, do you see what's happening? It's starting all over again, thinking and thinking and thinking. Somebody, PLEASE, make it stop. I'm begging you.

The story of Rahmeen...or was it Rahim?

It's a rainy Sunday evening on a holiday weekend. I'm on the third day of a four day weekend which though it sounds nice, it isn't necessarily so. You see, a long weekend is nice for relaxing but because I don't have much to do... well, I take that back. I do have stuff to do, I just don't really feel like doing it. I'm getting lazy in my old age. So most of the weekend, aw heck who am I kidding, the whole weekend, has been spent reading and thinking, reading and thinking, reading and... you get the point. Friday morning, I went to the book store and walked out with two books. One was "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini which lasted from Friday morning to Saturday evening. I didn't plan on finishing it that fast which effected my plans for the weekend. What can I say? It was a good book. The other book was "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" by Edward Gibbon. Don't ask, sometimes I just like to torture myself with a challenge that will take months to accomplish.

Now don't think I've been sitting here in isolation, driving myself crazy. Oh no, I've had quite a few long phone conversations with friends and family back home. I had a great one with my best friend Joe last night. In fact, I was originally going to write about it in this post. Somehow we started talking about when we had a band and wrote music. It went from that to how we wrote music different from another band member who actually studied music in college. I'm not going to give away the whole conversation because it's good material to write about in another post. Let's just say that we started with music and ended with conformity which oddly enough ties in to a previous post. Sometimes the coincidences are eerie. So anyway, I was bored earlier and went for a ride. I just went out exploring because I haven't been around this place in a while and had forgotten my way around. Of course, me being me, I started thinking about things while driving around. One thought that popped into my head was something that happened last year in Afghanistan. It's when I met Rahmeen.

There's really not much to the story of Rahmeen. How could there be? When I met him he was only a year and a half old and he never lived past that age. I was at Bagram airbase. On Bagram there are two hospitals; one run by the American military and one run by the Egyptian Army. The hospital run by the Egyptians deals with the local Afghans who need medical care. This is for cultural and religious sensitivity reasons. Both hospitals work together though, in terms of supplies and training. You will find American medical personnel assisting at the Egyptian hospital on a volunteer basis. Sometimes there are Afghan cases transferred to the American hospital because the required care can't be provided by the Egyptians. This could be based on a lack of specific equipment or simply because a specialist is needed that the Egyptians don't have. Sometimes injuries are so critical, the Afghan patient will be flown in by helicopter directly to the American hospital. That's just the way it is.

I guess you could say I met Rahmeen by accident. One day a Major who worked in the HQ asked if he could borrow a vehicle or if one of us could give him a ride down to the PX and the hospital. I told him it was no problem and I would give him a ride. At first, I thought he was sick but then I found out he was going to visit the kids at the hospital. Turns out he went there everyday after stopping at the PX to pick up little treats or things they might need, like toothbrushes. Normally he walked but that night he only had a little time. I was surprised because I didn't even know these kids were there. So I went down with him and rather than wait in the vehicle I went in with him.

First I met Nadzia. She was two or three years old and one of the most adorable little girls I ever saw. Nadzia was in the hospital because she had gotten a hold of an old watch battery and swallowed it. When I first met her she was sitting on the bed, her father by her side, with a bandage around her neck. The bandage was to protect where the doctors had had to do a Tracheotomy. She was playing with a toy the nurses had given her and her eyes were big from fear. You can only imagine what was going through her head at that age in those circumstances. It was tough on me. Show me a little kid whose scared and hurt and my heart melts. If it's a little girl, I'm even worse. The next time I saw Nadzia she was up and walking around. She still looked a little scared but all the nurses doted on her and you could tell she knew she was the queen of the ward.

I met some older kids who were there for different problems. One was born with a cleft palate and was getting corrective surgery, another had almost had his leg cut off in a farm accident. The last kid I met was Rahmeen. I can't really describe him to you because all I saw were his fingertips, mouth and eyes. The rest was wrapped in bandages like a little infant mummy. Rahmeen was burned over 98% of his body. No one had a really clear story of how this happened. His family was Pashtun and the interpreters spoke Dari. The languages are very close but different. Add in the reluctance of the family to talk and the picture was never clear. What I learned from the Major was that someone threw Rahmeen into a fire. His parents got him out and were going to bring him to the hospital but were talked out of it by their fellow villagers. The villagers told them that if they brought Rahmeen to the Americans, we would kill him. After about a week, the parents decided to bring him anyway because his condition was bad. I don't know how to describe the feelings I had when I saw him and heard the story. I know my eyes watered, I got that lump in my throat and I was shaking. All I really wanted to do was go find a corner and cry. I spend so much time trying to understand the world I live in and the people I share it with. But I have never been able to understand what drives someone to hurt a child.

I saw Rahmeen once again after that. I tried to get people back home to send stuff that I could take down to the kids but nothing ever really developed. The Major moved to another unit and I never made it back down to the hospital. When I did run into the Major months later, I asked about Rahmeen. He didn't make it. They tried a lot of skin grafts to save him but because if his age and size, there were only so many that could be done. It was amazing he had lived as long as he did. In fact, because he had survived that long with those injuries, we all thought he would make it. He was a tough little guy.

There is a reason I titled this post the way I did. This story is not for you the readers. It is for me. Rahmeen never knew me. He was morphined up so probably not aware of the people around him. I didn't sit and talk for hours with him and our only contact was a brief "handshake", more like his hand and one of my fingers. If he had lived, he would never know I even existed. My impact on his life was so minuscule as to be non-existent. If anything, he had a bigger impact on me. You see, there is no moral here, no lesson, no finger pointing or grand social commentary. I met him, I felt for him, he died. Shit happens, it happens everyday all over the world. And life goes on...

You see friends, I wrote this for me. Meeting Rahmeen was one of those experiences in life that affect you and shape you in some small way. It's an experience that has no meaning; it just happened. But it's such a small, brief experience that over time it may fade. I never saw his name in writing and for all I know I misheard it. So now I'm not really sure what his name was. That's why I wrote this. I may forget and I don't want to forget.

Why couldn't they have done this research when I was married?

Check out this story from the British newspaper "The Telegraph". According to researchers in the Netherlands, "...men who spend even a few minutes in the company of an attractive woman perform less well in tests designed to measure brain function than those who chat to someone they do not find attractive." The researchers think the reason for this lack of brain function in men is because we use so much of our "cognitive resources" trying to impress beautiful women, we don't have enough left to perform basic functions, like memory.

" Psychologists at Radboud University in The Netherlands carried out the study after one of them was so struck on impressing an attractive woman he had never met before, that he could not remember his address when she asked him where he lived.
Researchers said it was as if he was so keen to make an impression he 'temporarily absorbed most of his cognitive resources.' " Just think of the impact this information will have on society, not that we hadn't already figured this out millions of years ago. But now, men have a new excuse that is backed up by science. "I'm sorry I forgot our anniversary dear. It's just that I'm so distracted by your beauty I lose the mental capacity to remember things". If she doesn't believe you, hand her a copy of the study. BRILLIANT!

Of course, there's a possibility the study is flawed. Picture a bunch of science geeks in lab coats who spend all their time in a lab. It could be that what the data really tells us is that researchers need to get out more often.

The "Rebellious Arab Girl"

Hello dear readers, all two or three of you who actually take the time to read the meandering, confusing thoughts of a person, that would be me, with far too much time to think. Today, I would like to introduce you to "Rebellious Arab Girl", more better known to her fans and readers as Mona. Rebellious Arab Girl is the name of Mona's blog and what an interesting blog it is. I found her blog listed in the blog roll of another site and clicked on it out of curiosity. Oh the magic of networking. Anyway, after that first day of reading her posts and the comments from her readers, I have become hooked. Those of you who really know me are probably thinking it must be a blog filled with elaborate essays on feminist issues in the Arab world. Not quite, which is why I've linked to Mona's blog above. Check it out to understand what my interest is about.

OK, perhaps I will still have to explain my interest in the blog. First off, check out the banner to the site. Underneath the title it says "Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values". Wise words to live by. Far too often, we associate change with tearing down what exists and starting all over; Out with the old, in with the new. Doing so doesn't necessarily bring about change for the better. The funny thing about the name of her blog is how many people don't understand the context she uses the word rebellious. She is rebellious in the sense of not conforming to cultural norms because somebody told her to conform. Explain to Mona why she should act a certain way and, if it makes sense to her, she probably will act that way. Although, from what I've picked up on reading her posts, it will still be on Mona's terms. Mona is a 28 year old, Arab woman living in the West. She is educated, talented, opinionated and young. Her blog is much more like a diary, simply putting out to the world her day to day thoughts on her life and life in general. However, there is an underlying theme to the blog taken as a whole. That theme is the question "why"? Why do certain things happen? Why do people act the way they do? Why, why why?

I am 12 years Mona's senior, non-Arab and male. My life is and has been nothing like hers in so many ways. And yet I find her blog interesting. Since I found Mona's blog, I've been reading past posts going back to 2005 when she first started. Sometimes I disagree, sometimes I agree, sometimes I chuckle, especially when she relates an argument or discussion with her mother. I think no matter what gender we are or culture we come from, we all can relate to dealing with mom. That's the magic of her blog. If, like peeling back the layers of an onion, you strip away the culture, strip away her education, her occupation, even disregard her gender, you are left with a basic human being. That's where the commonality begins between Mona and me. That is why the blog is interesting to me. Because I can start to relate as a fellow human being which means that even when I may disagree with something she may write, I will at least think about it and consider her point of view.

On a wider level, my interest in Rebellious Arab Girl the blog is because between Mona's posts and the comments from her readers I see something bigger; The future. Mona and all those like her, whether they realize it or not, are the future. As an Arab woman asking the question why, she is the future of the Arab world. As simply a young woman asking the question why, she, and all those like her, are the future of all of us.

On Moms and Dads

It's been a work week and a weekend of writer's block. There is so much to write about that I don't where to start. Add in that so many topics are interconnected in some way, piecing them together has actually caused my brain to lock up. Somehow this has brought me to a point where I am sitting here in retrospect of my relationship with my parents over the years. Don't ask me how I got to this subject, I don't really know. Well, OK that's not really true. The reality is that when you want to write but can't seem to coherently put some big, grand idea in print, you fall back on "Let's make fun of mom and dad". Sorry mom and dad but it was only a matter of time.



So let's start with dad. My father is a rather quiet man. At least he is when my mother is around because when my mother is around, no one can get a word in edgewise anyway. Get dad alone and he will talk. We have had many a conversation lasting hours about all different things, especially now that I am older. I say now that I am older because it is a conversation, give and take on whatever subject comes up. When I was younger it had the appearance of a conversation but was, in fact, more of a lecture and learning exercise on logic with me on the receiving end. During those years of my late teens and early twenties, when I knew everything and had the answers to all the world's problems, nothing could be more frustrating and aggravating than to mention them to my father. He sent many a great idea to the trash heap of great ideas not by simply dismissing them; "Get lost kid. It will never work". Nooo, not my dad. He actually listened to the idea and then asked questions. Questions I hadn't thought of and therefore had no answers to. In the end, I would stomp away angry and mumbling about how he just didn't understand but inside thinking "Damn it! He's right again". See dad was my Devil's advocate, my Red Cell in a way and he was very efficient in that capacity. But I owe him for that because he taught me how to think.



My father is also a font of historical knowledge, especially military history. Get into a conversation with dad and you will walk away with some trivial knowledge about some obscure, British regiment serving under Wellington during the Napoleonic Wars. Mind you, it's not simply confined to the Napoleonic Wars, it can be about any period in military history. "Hey dad, traffic's really bad today on the highway". An hour later, you are walking away with some quote from some guy who fought in the Boer War, along with a background of his unit and why they were where they were that somehow relates to the cause of traffic jams. Go figure, who knew? Of course, not all of these lessons in history were delivered straight forward. Some were imparted subliminally. To this day, the song "Waltzing Matilda" will periodically pop into my head. Why? Because dad would hum or sing it while shaving and my bedroom was across the hall from the bathroom so I would hear it. Over and over and over. For years I wondered who Matilda was and why dad was singing about her. Was she someone dad knew before mom? Did he dance with her? Why would anyone want to even waltz with a girl named Matilda? Does mom even know about Matilda? I learned later that the song was like the National Anthem of Australia or something and was, of course, sung by some obscure Australian unit during some war a long time ago. Regardless, THE DAMN SONG IS STILL STUCK IN MY HEAD! Thanks dad.



My father is not big on mystical or supernatural things. This goes down to even having a distrust of organized religion. Despite that, he has still found a way to put a hex on me that has followed me throughout my adult life. Let me explain. Dad's entire career was with the Army and this had a profound effect on his children. As I mentioned before, he was big on military history so myself and my sisters were exposed to military history. Somehow, the Army creeped into everything. It was so bad that it led to fights with my sister. Nothing was so infuriating, so humiliating and demeaning to a young boy as finding G.I. Joe in the toy box naked because my sister had taken his fatigues and put them on her Barbie. She even took his rifle! Score one for Women's Lib. Of course, I got the last laugh when the fatigues ended up on the floor and naked G.I. Joe was in bed with naked Barbie. Score one for the guys! Unfortunately, mom found that one which triggered the "Maybe it's time to talk about the birds and the bees" alarm. But I digress so back to dad's curse.



Since we played army, we played with little plastic green army men. The problem was I always thought big. See, it wasn't enough to just have ten little American army guys against ten little German army guys. Oh no, it had to be, say, the Battle of the Bulge or the Normandy invasion. Not a part of those battles but the whole damn battle. That meant tons of little plastic army guys. So instead of going to the local drug store and getting a bag of the generic "big" little plastic army guys, I went to the hobby shop and got the small, HO scale guys. These guys were perfect. They were small enough that you could have hundreds of them, whole battalions could be formed. Plus, because they were mainly for dioramas and war gamers, they were historically accurate. The drug store army men were the same mold just a different color plastic; Americans were green, Germans were gray. BORING! With the HO scale guys, Germans were Germans right down to their helmets and weapons. The same for Americans. Even better, there were British, Italian, Japanese. You name the country and they were represented. Even better, there were tons of vehicles to go along with them. It was an arsenal that any young lad with dreams of world domination would drool over. And, the vehicles were historically accurate. I know, I know, what's up with the fixation on historical accuracy? I couldn't tell you except that even at the ages of 6, 7 or 8 years old, attention to detail was important.

So anyway, on some holiday or birthday, I don't remember which, dad gets me a little gift. I kind of know what it is by the package; it's a little pre-built vehicle that they sold at the hobby shop. I'm hoping it's a tank or something because tanks are cool and they fight and that's what we are doing when we play, we're fighting a war. So I open it up and what do I see? A little HO scale 2 1/2 ton truck. What used to be called a "Deuce and a half". A TRUCK, DAD? No tank? What am I supposed to do with this? You can only guess at the little lesson old Sarge imparted. "Your troops need to move son. They also need supplies. How do you think those supplies get there? An army travels on it's stomach... logistics is the key to winning the war son...logistics is the key". Mind you, that truck was one of the first things to get blown up whenever there was a battle.

Now fast forward to my late twenties. I've been working in the trucking industry since eighteen and am now in management at a regional company, dispatching freight all over the Northeast. At one point I'm contemplating going to school to get a degree in supply chain management, aka LOGISTICS! That's when it hit me; "Logistics is the key, son". How the hell did I end up here? All those boring lectures that I had no interest in about logistics and what industry do I end up working in? Fast forward again to the age of 38. I decide to go back in the Army and this time specifically pick a combat arms job, tanker. I go through all my training and get assigned to a unit. Where do I end up? The 101st Airborne Division (AASLT). AASLT stands for Air Assault. It's a light infantry division whose main mode of transport is by helicopter. NO TANKS! I end up in the division headquarters and deploy to Afghanistan. What is my job in Afghanistan? I manage a country's worth of ammunition for training. Basically, a LOGISTICS JOB!

"Logistics is the key, son... logistics is the key". Thanks dad.

There's more to tell about dad but it's in relation to mom. I haven't even begun to talk about mom yet. I'll save that for part two. Thought you were off the hook mom, didn't you?

From Their Own Mouths!

Check out this video from YouTube. Pay close attention to what each speaker is saying about the "Public Option" and a Single Payer Health Care System. This is a perfect example of how the "Progressives" operate.

First we were told all those angry people at the Town Hall meetings were shills for the insurance companies and Republicans. Then we were told those people were just stirred up by lies and myths being perpetrated by opponents to "reform". I talked about this in a previous post, the arrogant perception of the Democrats that we, the people, are stupid and don't know what's best for us. Folks, ask yourself this; If the Democrat's agenda is so good, why do they feel the need to lie to us about it?

We have been continuously hearing from the Obama Administration, Congressional Democrats and the sycophantic "Main Stream Media" that those opposed to the current plan are opposed to "Health Care Reform". Not actually true! I, for one, will agree that there are problems with financing health care that need to be addressed. However, I don't think the plan(s) being proposed by the Democrats are good or the right fix. So I'm not opposed to health care reform, just to the power grab being attempted by the "Progressive" Party currently in power. Woe be to me for standing in the way of "progress".

There's Truth in Humor.

Check out this correction in today's L.A. Times. Here it is if the link does not work:

"TV listings: The Prime-Time TV grid in Thursday's Calendar section mistakenly listed MTV's "Jackass" show on the MSNBC cable schedule at 7 and 10 p.m. where instead MSNBC's "Countdown With Keith Olbermann" should have been listed."

For once, the "Main Stream Media" reported just the facts. Too bad it took an error in the TV Listings for that to happen. Or was it an error?

"So Let It Be Written, So Let It Be Done"!

The title of this post comes from Cecil B. Demille's movie "The Ten Commandments". The movie was about Moses, played by Charlton Heston, leading the Jews from slavery in Egypt to the promised land. The line comes from Yul Brynner's Pharaoh character. Whenever Pharaoh made a decision or ruling, "So let it be written, so let it be done" would be proclaimed.

That line seems to sum up the mentality of the modern Democrat party. When I say the Democrat party, I'm not necessarily talking about the rank and file but more those who run the party. The Obamas, Pelosis, Reids and such, to include the Hollywood airheads, paranoid bloggers and dogmatic academicians. To the general public, these people style themselves as "Liberals" but in fact they are "Progressives". Progressive thought is grounded in the grand family of failed utopian ideologies that made the Twentieth Century such a bloody one. Marx was a "progressive". Lenin was a "progressive" as was Mussolini, Stalin and yes, even Hitler. Granted, these men are examples of the progressive movement gone to extremes. But that is where the lesson lay for progressive thought is far removed from and anything but liberalism.

Read the history of the "progressive" movement and you will read a tale of arrogance and conceit. It is a tale of intelligent people, at least they thought so, who, due to the advent of scientific discovery and the industrial revolution, thought they could tame nature and rationalize the world. They dismissed the idea of God as silly superstition because science "proved" there was no God. With science, Man could conquer nature and reshape it, engineer it into a wonderful, rational utopia where everything worked perfectly and progress was achieved. Man could be, would be God! Of course, not everyone could partake of this Utopia,oh no. For in order to bring about this new world order we had to speed up the evolution of Man. This would be accomplished not by Natural Selection but by Artificial Selection. Gone would be the indigent, the handicapped, the "stupid", the lazy and unfit. The "lesser" races would have to go also to weed out the undesirable genes of those "inferiors". The Old World would be torn down, replaced with new concepts, ideas and morals all guided by a "ruthless pragmatism" for the betterment of society.

Progressives believe themselves to be rational beings, therefore what they think is right is based on rationality. If someone disagrees with that thought well, they're just acting irrationally. That can be the only reason because the "Progressive" is the rational one. That, my friends, is the fatal flaw, perhaps one could say the "Fatal Conceit" to borrow from Fredrich Hayek, of the "Progressive" mind. They see an irrational world where this in fact a rational world. When you try to rationalize an already rational world, you become irrational.

So what does this have to do with today's politics? The so called "Progressives" won the election and in their arrogance thought they could once again begin reshaping the world. But the people who voted for them became nervous, then fearful, then angry for they are not stupid. They've seen this before and all they need do is look across the Atlantic to see a possible future for the Progressives are far more entrenched in Europe than here. Europe is slowly committing suicide. The anger arises from the feeling of being duped. Back in 2008, amidst the cult like fawning, soaring rhetoric, Grecian column festooned pageantry and choirs singing "Hope and Change", many voters thought they were electing Moses to lead them to the Promised Land. Now they realize instead they got Pharaoh.

Measurable Metrics

Earlier today I caught a bit of Ambassador to the U.N. Susan Rice discussing the Administration's new strategy for Afghanistan on CNN. During the course of the interview, Ambassador Rice mentioned that while they hadn't done so yet, the Administration would develop "measurable metrics" to gauge the progress and success of the strategy. Measurable metrics is a term that, for some strange reason, keeps popping up in recent conversations. So, of course, when those words came out of Ambassador Rice's mouth, the phrase "Danger, Will Robinson, danger" echoed in my head.

My fear is that the Administration and the military leaders on the ground in Afghanistan will fall into the trap of setting measurements to determine progress that don't necessarily reflect real progress or paint a misleading picture. We have done this before and then been stymied as to why the situation didn't improve. It can go both ways. We can fool ourselves into believing we are successful when we are not or think we are failing when we are in fact successful. All because the "measurable metrics" we establish may not reflect reality.

Losing Sight of the Mission

I had a long phone conversation last night with my best friend that lasted several hours. Thanks to this blog, Verizon Wireless will remain profitable. Anyway, the conversation evolved over a range of subjects, separate yet interconnected. Basically, you could say one thing led to another. The last part of the conversation ended up being about institutions, bureaucracy and leadership or lack of thereof. My, oh my wasn't that conversation enlightening. We work in different organizations, with different goals and yet suffer with the same problems.

My friend Joe works for the Department of Children and Families (DCF) back in my home state as a Social Worker. As such, his job puts him in the field dealing directly with the clients. So his job, one could say his mission, is to work with and help his clients, who by the way are people. Listening to Joe describe his job, one can sense the frustration he has in trying to accomplish his mission. The frustration stems not from the clients but from his own organization and the way it works. For example, though he is assigned clients and has to deal with those clients, he has no authority to make decisions about each case. Those decisions have to be made by someone higher up the chain. In addition, every contact with a client, be it a face to face meeting or even just a phone call has to be documented and reported. He, of course, has more than one case (client) assigned to him with more added all the time. The net effect is that, by his estimation, 20% of his time is actually spent with the client while the other 80% is spent doing paperwork. In addition, though his job is to help his clients, he isn't given any authority to actually help them.

The interconnection between the above aspects is interesting. The mission of DCF, at least initially, is to help children and families that find themselves in certain circumstances that require outside aid. On paper, that is still the mission. Because the organization deals with people, it needs to be careful in how it provides it's services because of the possibility of that aid making the situation worse. The wrong decision could adversely affect the client which opens up the organization to lawsuits. So, ostensibly to protect the client, the organization puts into place processes and procedures to check against this possibility. Decisions need to be checked and validated up the hierarchy giving the top of the hierarchy ultimate authority to make the final decision. This leads to those lower down on the chain not even bothering to make decisions but to pass it up. 80% of the workers time is spent documenting all interaction with a client in order to protect the organization from a possible lawsuit or investigation stemming from the wrong decision adversely affecting the client. In effect, while on paper and to the public, the mission of DCF is to help people, subconsciously within the organization, the mission has shifted to protecting the organization from the very people it is supposed to help. Those within the organization who are good at accomplishing this new mission are promoted to positions of leadership based not on their ability to help people, but on their ability to abide by the processes put in place. Thus the new, unstated mission perpetuates itself. What we call "group think" sets in. The organization has lost sight of it's original intent and purpose.

In my phone conversation, I identified Joe's frustrations without getting all the details very quickly. I said "Let me guess,..." and proceeded to list off a series of situations and circumstances that when tied together painted a picture of the culture of his organization, the source of his frustration. I was able to do this because I substituted "U.S. Army" for "DCF", "Sergeant" for "Social Worker"... need I say more.

Power to the Sourpoints!

Anybody who works in the corporate world or government will most likely appreciate this piece from the Wall Street Journal Taste page. It's entitled "Speaking truth to PowerPoint". Of all the items in the arsenal of the United States' military, PowerPoint has to be the most under appreciated in terms of lethality and destructiveness. Want to simultaneously sow confusion in the minds of your enemy while sapping their physical strength? Hit them with a PowerPoint presentation.

I am convinced that the key to defeating Al Qaeda is to infiltrate their command and training camp network with specially trained teams of briefers highly skilled in the use of PowerPoint. The concept is similar to a virus in that the mission is two fold. Not only do the teams masquerade as jihadists and use PowerPoint to present their ideas, more importantly they train the real jihadists in how to use PowerPoint. As the jihadist start to master PowerPoint, the first symptoms of the virus appear. The organization becomes sluggish and confused. Because the structure of Al Qaeda resembles a network of cells and affiliated organizations, each cell or group will do their slides differently. The Taliban may use a green background, the color of Islam. Egyptian Islamic Jihad may opt for a template that resembles old parchment in order to get that "original Quran" look. Dissention sets in as each group argues over who's slides are more Islamic.

At the lower level, more and more IED attacks are less successful. This is because in the training camps, rather than learn how to build and emplace an IED by actually doing it, Johnny Jihad gets the instructions in bullet point format with serious gaps in information. When he tries to figure out why the IED didn't work, he can't because his instructors didn't give him an actual training manual. Instead, they gave him a packet of printed slides with the same bullet points from the presentation. When Johnny Jihad tries to recall what the instructor said during the period of instruction, he realizes all the instructor did was read the bullet points out loud and ask if there were any questions. Of course there were no questions because: a.) The students didn't know there was a gap in the information and b.) It was Thursday night so all the students wanted was to get released for the day so Johnny Jihad could hook up with Joey Jihad.

At the same time, the logistics system starts to strain both physically and financially. More money has to be budgeted for laptops, network servers, printers, power backups, ink cartridges, printer paper, binding machines, staples, staplers, staple removers, clear plastic covers for the slide packets, spiral combs for the binding and so on. Not only do all these supplies have to be purchased, they also have to be transported from, for example, Pakistan over the mountains into Afghanistan. This is in addition to/ competition with bullets, food, explosives and personnel. Because there is a shortage of donkeys and Toyota pick ups in theater, the supply chain becomes clogged, slowing down the conduct of operations. The highest level of command notices what is going on and sets out to remedy the situation. Osama Bin Laden dispatches subordinates on a fact finding tour to figure out what the problem is. Their task will be to identify the problem, develop a solution and then brief the seniors on that solution. The brief will of course be presented in PowerPoint because Osama's schedule is packed with other breifings and he doesn't have all day to read a report.

The solution the subordinates devise, and brief in PowerPoint, seems simple and is designed to streamline communications, planning and logistics. An SOP on formatting slides is established.

• All slides will be written in a size 12 Arabic font, white background, black lettering.
• All slides will have a header consisting of the Al Qaeda symbol in the upper left corner, the subordinate organizations symbol in the upper right corner, the phrase "Allahu Akbar" directly centered on the page with a thick green line beneath separating the header from the content.
• No complete sentences are allowed. Only brief, concise bullet points will be used.
• The last slide will have the same header but no bullet points. In place will be one word in size 30 Arabic font; QUESTIONS?

For example, rather than communicate a plan like this: The suicide bomber will detonate his charge precisely at 1200 hrs in front of the checkpoint. Immediately after the blast, supporting forces will will engage surviving enemy forces with precise direct fires until enemy capabilities have been reduced to ineffectiveness due to high casualties.

The plan will be communicated like this:

• At noon he go BOOM!
• Everybody else shoot.
• Enemy Dead.

Of course this Standard Operating Procedure is only a guideline. In order to maintain Esprit De Corp, in addition to developing creative thought in juniors, subordinate commanders are given flexibility in developing slide formatting SOPs for briefings within their organization. However, those slides will have to be reformatted in accordance to the higher level commands SOP when briefed to the higher level command. Someone will forget to change the font size on one of the slides which will lead to 15 minutes of lecture about how the slide is not formatted correctly. That 15 minutes will eat up much of the briefing causing a whole slew of slides to be skipped and information lost.

On the logistics side, the subordinates solution for supply and support functions is to contract out those functions. This is deemed more cost effective as it frees up manpower for suicide bombings. Because the Jihad is already ongoing, the decision is made to bypass the bidding process and directly contract the most capable company in the region. That company turns out to be The Bin Laden Group. This spurs Muslim conspiracy theorist film makers to produce documentaries pointing out the connection between Bin Laden, the Saudi government and former President Bush thus concluding the whole Jihad is all about oil and profit, not about establishing a new Caliphate.

The benefits of this strategy for the United States war effort are huge. First off, this plan has been tried, tested and successful under various conditions already by the U.S. military on a global scale. The strategy does not require any additional funding or personnel increases as we already have a large cadre fully trained at all echelons. The third order of effects in terms of breaking enemy morale thus their will to fight are guaranteed. For example, prior to deployment, I had to attend Counter IED classes. The class was several hours long and the instructors gave it using a combination of audio-visual techniques. After the introductory slides, I was subjected to about 30 minutes of web videos showing IED's blowing apart Humvees and fellow soldiers. This was followed by three hours of PowerPoint slides covering enemy tactics, how we counter those tactics, how they counter our countering, various pieces of equipment we use to disrupt IEDs that work fine alone but cancel each other out if too close and then more web videos of Humvees blowing up. It was a great presentation but when I walked out of the class, I was sweating, heart beating fast and thinking "OH SHIT! I'm gonna die!". It's a 100% surefire guarantee that if given PowerPoint, some Jihadist in a training camp will do the exact same thing to their guys. I'm not saying that by using this plan Al Qaeda will fall overnight. But over time the organization will definitely lose it's ability to accomplish much. The best part of this plan is that we can define victory. The day Osama appears on Al Jazeera in one of his videos and after the first few words he says "next slide", we know we won.

The basis for this plan is what I call the Anti-Boyd's Law or Reverse OODA Loop. It goes like this:

1. I observe my own organizations actions and inadequacies.
2. I orient my enemy to those same actions and inadequacies.
3. He decides to adopt them.
4. His actions mimic mine.

The principle is sound. If it doesn't work for me, it won't work for him either. The reason this plan hasn't been put into effect is that I would have to brief my chain of command with a PowerPoint presentation. I suck at PowerPoint.

On Intellectuals

From Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary:

Intellectual:
1in·tel·lec·tu·al
Function: adjective
Date: 14th century
1 a: of or relating to the intellect or its use b: developed or chiefly guided by the intellect rather than by emotion or experience : rational c: requiring use of the intellect
2 a: given to study, reflection, and speculation b: engaged in activity requiring the creative use of the intellect

Intellectual:
2intellectual
Function: noun
Date: 1615
1plural archaic : intellectual power
2: an intellectual person

Anti-intellectual:
an·ti–in·tel·lec·tu·al
Function: adjective
Date: 1884
: opposing or hostile to intellectuals or to an intellectual view or approach

A friend of mine whom I love getting into conversations with has on several occasions told me that my problem is I'm anti-intellectual. He makes this assumption because at times I rail against higher education in this country or when I dismiss or question what is being taught. Basically, his psychoanalysis of me is that, even though I have knowledge, I'm "smart" and have thinking skills, because of my economic status, background and lack of formal education I resent being dismissed or ignored by "intellectuals". Therefore, based on my resentment, I dismiss and ignore the "intellectuals" thus making me an anti-intellectual. Now when my friend says this I usually reply with a half smile, roll of the eyes "Well, kind of, sort of but not really. It's a little more complex than that". Here's the problem with my friends analysis.

Take the second definition of intellectual as an adjective. "Given to study, reflection and speculation...". That's me, I am an intellectual. I observe, I study, I read, I think, I reflect, I anylize, form ideas then question them, test them and further develop them. I'm always doing these things. In other words, I'm always thinking. Ask anyone who really knows me and they will confirm it. My problem with higher education is that the concept of "intellectual" has changed. It no longer is an adjective describing a thinking person but has become a title or a status symbol to denote one's level in society. Far too many people who are labeled intellectuals are not intellectuals. They are more like pseudo-intellectuals. They may be intelligent and have the capacity to memorize vast amounts of information and then regurgitate that information but they don't question what is taught, they don't analize it, they don't figure it out. They simply swallow it hook, line and sinker. Is it their fault they are that way? Perhaps, but it may also be that their time spent in academia involved not learning how to think but what to think.

The original concept of universities, at least in Western Civilization, was an area for higher learning. In order to accomplish that there had to be space for the free expression and development of ideas. Different theories were taught and debated. You were graded on your ability to understand those ideas and theories, not on whether you subscribed to those theories and ideas. Today, and this is not a blanket statement, far too often it's the opposite situation. In order to pass, you must not only demonstrate that you understand the idea but also that you subscribe to it. You must prove you are a "true believer". That is not intellectualism, it is indoctrination. Dogma and doctrine are the result of anti-intellectuals. Basically the message is "You don't need to understand the subject. You only need to accept it as fact. It is fact because we say it is fact. End of discussion!"

So, am I anti-intellectual? No, I am anti-pseudo-intellectual which means I am anti-fake. I am also against against anti-intellectualism even when it presumes to be intellectualism. I can't wait for the feedback on this one.

Black and White#2

First, some admin notes to start off. The theme of this series of posts is a discussion on perception, it's effects on our daily interactions and how our perceptions don't always match the reality of the situation. It is not about the incident in Cambridge Mass. between Professor Gates and the Cambridge Police Department. That incident was used only as a means of illustrating how two people can enter into a situation with completely different concepts of what is actually happening causing a conflict. A side theme to this topic is how outsiders not involved in the actual situation form perceptions and subsequently get involved, laying blame or finding fault with one side or the other. I'll be honest and tell you that is a pet peeve of mine because I believe not every situation that goes wrong or develops badly is due to the fault of one person or a group of people. But that is a subject for a seperate post. Now we get back to perception and reality.



Our perception of what is going on around us is influenced by a myriad amount of factors. These factors are too numerous to list but include such things as our emotional state, our physical state, the values we have, how we were raised, personal experiences, genetics, our knowledge base or lack thereof and so on. All of these factors effect how we "see" the world. They shape and influence the way we process all the information we absorb; the how we think. More importantly, these factors form what we think. The what is our final conclusion or perception. If the process stops at that point, the formation of a perception, then the perception becomes reality. In other words, truth.

But wait a minute, if we all have different perceptions that would mean there are multiple truths? How can that be? If something is true to me, if it is a reality, how can it not be true to someone else? I'm going to stop here to let this sink in but I'm going to leave off with a question. Is there such thing as one reality or are we all creating different realities around us. Is there an absolute truth?

Lost in Translation

Here's an interesting article on Arabic discussing the differences between Standard Arabic and Spoken Arabic. Standard Arabic is written only, while spoken Arabic is based on dialect and only used for conversation. These language rules affect and make difficult communication and literacy in the Arab speaking world.

Reading this article brought to mind how language, while a means of communication and conveying ideas, can also be an impediment. I don't know how many times in conversation with friends from other countries I missed out on a joke because the premise for the joke was lost in translation. My friends would sit there flumoxed because they couldn't find the right English word to convey the idea. This wasn't neccessarily because they didn't know English well enough but because there was no word existing in the English language.

Culture effects the way people think which effects the ideas they develop. I've always found it interesting that there are concepts out there in different cultures that when passed to other cultures either lose their meaning or are totally incomprehensible because of language. It's fascinating how the mind works. I can't understand something because the words to describe it don't exist, at least in the language I speak. We are born into a native tongue which steers u through our learning and development processes. Even if we learn another language later on, all we are really doing is converting the words from one language to another in order to process the thought being conveyed, so we still end up thinking in our native language. When we come across a word in our second language that has no counterpart in our first language, we have to find a similar idea and the word or words that describe it in order to translate. By doing this, we run the risk of changing the idea. It all just makes me wonder how many good ideas are out there in the world that never spread because of language barriers.

Black and White

The absurdities that arise from political correctness amaze me. The newest is the Professor Gates affair. As usual, driven by media hoopla, people are lining up to take sides on an issue that really isn't an issue but more a misunderstanding blown totally out of proportion. This drama is in fact a perfect illustration of how the world is not black and white. It is complex.

Professor Gates teaches classes on African-American history and race at Harvard. As such, he is steeped in the history of slavery, racism, Jim Crow and all other matters of concerning race in the United States. Add in his age and the fact that he teaches at Harvard, one can assume that his viewpoint is shaped by the Leftist narrative of American history so prevalent in academia today. My point is not to talk about Mr. Gate's viewpoint or ideaology but intstead to illustrate how his perception of the situation was formed. That perception is what drives his actions.

I don't know as much about Officer Crowley's background except what has been reported in the news. He is white, a police officer with a good record and also an instructor for the Police Academy on racial profiling. I don't know if he has prejuduces, a history of racism or a record on anything pertaining to race. I can assume, however, that by the nature of his profession he approached the situation from the perspective of his training as a police officer. Police are trained to approach a potentially dangerous situation from a position of authority in order to establish calm and keep the situation from escalating. I'm not just talking about situations involving crime but even times like an accident scene. Two of the biggest factors in such situations are stress and confusion which require someone on the scene to remain calm and be decisive. For example, in every First Aid class I've ever taken, one of the first things I was taught to do upon arriving on the scene is take charge and designate someone to go call 911. I wasn't taught to politely ask anyone in the crowd " Can someone, anyone, please call 911 for help?" Instead, I was taught to authoritatively, even forcefully designate a person; "YOU! Call 911 for help!"

What we have in this whole affair in Cambridge Mass. is an example of two individuals entering a situation from totally different perspectives that clash causing an escalation into issues unrelated to the actual event. The initial event had nothing to do with race relations. It had to do with a possible crime that in fact did not exist. However, because one participant is black and the other white, the intrusion of interlopers with agendas and the tendency we as a people have to simplify complex situations down to an "either one side or the other", the whole situation has escalated to a point of ridiculousness.

My point in talking about this event is to show that behind every interaction you have with another person is a complex chain of circumstances leading up to that interaction. Perceptions are formed quickly and easily, often without all the facts. Sometimes without any facts. Perception and reality are two different beasts. Reality is not always black and white.

More to follow...

Welcome.

Hello all and welcome to my blog. For a while now, many of my friends have been telling me I should write a blog. I guess they think what I have to say is important. Of course, it could be that they feel me writing things out saves them the time of having to sit and listen. Who knows? The important part is that I'm always thinking but so many ideas and views are rarely shared. By sharing my thoughts, I hope to spark some feedback. Different perspectives can either strengthen ideas or prove then misguided.

That being said, feel free to comment on my posts. The only thing I ask is that you make an informed contribution and not simply resort to name calling. As the topics I will write about range from issues of the day (Politics, News, History) to just everyday dealings, I'm sure many of you will disagree with me. GOOD! That's what an open society is all about. So, let the fun begin.