Yesterday North Korea bombed South Korea. To most of us, it doesn't mean much. But to me, and my Marines in 2/24 Golf CO, I'm predicting a field trip. No word has been passed, as this just happened yesterday, but I'd bet my best dollar that the United States Marines, followed by the United Nations will be taking a trip to North Korea. It is the duty of Marines, as well as Americans to fight for those oppressed. I have a biased opinion on this matter. I say lets go get some. I know every other Marine wants to do the same thing. I believe the president wants to as well. The question is, will the american public back another war?
It is my belief that wars, help boost the economy. It creates jobs, there are people lined up trying to getting the military. All branches of the military turn people away everyday. Most of them for things like tattoos, or underage drinking tickets. Those people then get pushed to the wayside, not wanting to go to school, unable to join up. These people then fall into the working class, and often into below the poverty line.
Lets do it, lets take it to North Korea, because weather you know it or not, we have tier one military operatives in the country already. MARSOC has been there for years. Its just a matter of being announced, or active.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
WTC is killing me..
I'm going to address several issues I have with Western Technical College.
Number one, I buy a $90 parking pass from the school, and I don't even have anywhere to park. That is ridiculous. Its completely ridiculous that I should have to buy one anyway. Include it in my tuition, god knows I pay enough to come here.
Number two, Printing fees. The school probably gets paper and ink for free or extremely discounted. They charge me a dime per printed page? That is absolutely horrendous. If I didn't have to print anything out, I wouldn't. But my teachers make me, in order to stay in their classes. Thats stupid, again include it in my tuition.
Number three, food. Cheese curds in the cafeteria, that probably cost $1.00 to make, sell for nearly $5.00. If that isn't the definition of inflation, please tell me what is. I ought to open my own restraint on campus and charge a fair price for food. Again, I have a feeling that our college gets their food rather discounted, or on some special kind of government program.
Number four. What would it take to get the library to extend its hours? If they did, they could have more students on a work study program, creating jobs, and cheaper education for students. Most students that I know work right after class. Usually until 9 or 10pm. Then they go home to do their homework, because the library is closed. We all know that its very hard to concentrate on homework, in the distracting comforts of your own home.
Number five. Toilet paper. It is a necessity, and bowel movements are a part of nature. So, why do we have to be supplied with one-ply, rough-n-ready TP? Why can't WTC splurge a little bit on some more comforting toilet paper? It wouldn't be that hard to switch, and the student moral would shoot through the roof.
Obviously these are my opinions, and I haven't done any research to support them. But I have been blessed with intuition.
Number one, I buy a $90 parking pass from the school, and I don't even have anywhere to park. That is ridiculous. Its completely ridiculous that I should have to buy one anyway. Include it in my tuition, god knows I pay enough to come here.
Number two, Printing fees. The school probably gets paper and ink for free or extremely discounted. They charge me a dime per printed page? That is absolutely horrendous. If I didn't have to print anything out, I wouldn't. But my teachers make me, in order to stay in their classes. Thats stupid, again include it in my tuition.
Number three, food. Cheese curds in the cafeteria, that probably cost $1.00 to make, sell for nearly $5.00. If that isn't the definition of inflation, please tell me what is. I ought to open my own restraint on campus and charge a fair price for food. Again, I have a feeling that our college gets their food rather discounted, or on some special kind of government program.
Number four. What would it take to get the library to extend its hours? If they did, they could have more students on a work study program, creating jobs, and cheaper education for students. Most students that I know work right after class. Usually until 9 or 10pm. Then they go home to do their homework, because the library is closed. We all know that its very hard to concentrate on homework, in the distracting comforts of your own home.
Number five. Toilet paper. It is a necessity, and bowel movements are a part of nature. So, why do we have to be supplied with one-ply, rough-n-ready TP? Why can't WTC splurge a little bit on some more comforting toilet paper? It wouldn't be that hard to switch, and the student moral would shoot through the roof.
Obviously these are my opinions, and I haven't done any research to support them. But I have been blessed with intuition.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
narrative, finalized
If you were to look at my left hand, you would notice an unsightly scar. It is a pink creased line in the shape of a lightning bolt, or maybe even a “T”. Its more than just an ugly scar, it’s a story. It was a life changing event for me.
Rewind now to a month after my senior year, and high school graduation. It was the day after my graduation party; I had a headache, a few empty kegs, and a plethora of my friends lying in the grass around me. I was the first awake, and the sun was beating down on us relentlessly. I woke my friends, and conned them into another adventure. A week in the woods! No food! No water! No phones, chew, cigarettes… nothing! We would take guns, and knives. Anything we could hunt we would eat. It took a lot of convincing, as my friends aren’t as adventurous as myself. Yet, they agreed, and it was off to the forest we went. We were soon skipping under the canopy that was my parents’ woods. I led the team of scouts, hooting and hollering, to a place I had already decided on. A dry river bed, with a 5 foot waterfall. It was perfect. We would use the rock of the fall as the back wall of our shelter. If we were going to be staying a week, we would need a shelter, and a good one at that. I knew I had to be the one to build it. I took to the project like a pig to mud. I sent my good buddy Matt up a tree. It was a rather small tree, and the perfect one for the front entrance of our shelter. He hung onto the tree top, and pulled it down to me. I quickly tied the end to the ground, and began creating our new home. I was using a rather, or better yet, unnecessarily large knife to knock the branches of from this tree. This step was necessary in our building plan. I had my fist balled tightly around the tree, almost as if I was holding a beer. After a few good whacks on the branches, I began getting arrogant and careless. It didn’t take long for me to make a mistake, and a costly one at that. I swung the sword sized belt knife too hard. It went right through the branch, and into my balled fist. It hit my left index finger at a 45-degree angle, spraying my face with blood. I looked down to see my bone severed, and a rubber band looking tissue severed as well. That was my tendon. I quickly began swearing. Not yelling, or even cursing, just a few swear words at a time. I quickly took my shirt off, carfully as not to rip the skin that was now connecting my finger to the rest of me. I quickly wrapped my dangling finger in the shirt, before putting it under my armpit. I kept it tightly squeezed in my underarm to keep a good amount pressure applied, as this prevents bleeding. I grabbed a buddy, and ran the mile and a half obstacle course back to the house.
When I got to the house, I regained my composer, sensing this as a good opportunity to make a joke around my mother. It was a perfect set up. She was snoozing on the couch, and in the sun, like an outstretched cat. I woke her. “Mom, do you want to go to town?” “What for?” She rebutted in a groggy state. “To sew my finger back on? What do you think?” That is when I showed her. She was surprised, to say the least. She took me to the hospital, where I had 20-some stitches in my finger, and more in the tendon to reconnect it as well. I was put in a cast to stop my all my fingers from bending, as one bending can put stress on the other. To understand the rest of the evening’s events, you would almost have to know me on a personal level. Otherwise you might just think I’m crazy. After leaving the emergency room in an arm cast, and arriving home, I went back to the woods, to link up with my friends. Much to my disappointment my return to the woods was not a pleasant one. - I had brought one cigar, for myself. I am not a usual smoker, but I wanted to have one while enjoying nature.
My friends had smoked it. All that remained was a rubbed out- stepped on-dirt covered butt. I was almost in tears. We didn’t remain in the woods long though. Frog legs, a delicacy in some places, ended our night. My pal Matthew decided to boil one in beer, and eat it. This was nearly the end of him. He was quick to begin vomiting. Apparently, under cooked, beer boil frog legs, can cause food poisoning. Weird, huh?
All of this happened on a weekend. When Monday rolled around, and I received my usually check in call from Ripon head coach, Coach Ernst. I told him the situation I was in with my hand and finger, and all about my upcoming surgery. He made it clear to me that being in a cast, missing the upcoming summer camp, and preseason workouts wear going to cost me my spot on the team. He made it known that being unable to participate, would result in the early termination of my connection with Ripon football. I was done.
I didn’t see this injury as a life changing event, but plenty of others did. I cut my left index finger nearly off. I severed tendons, and bone. I was supposed to spend the next 3 months in a full arm cast, and attend physical therapy. What the doctors really meant was, that they wanted me to sit idly by, and watch my dreams sink away.
The cast didn’t last long, but the dreams are no longer a possibility. This is when I realized, I would no longer be a college athlete. I wouldn’t get my chance to play college ball, as my eligibility had started, and it was too late to get on another team. Besides, what team wants to chance it on a kid with a hand that might not function?
I, being the person that I am, did not miss a step. I simply told Mr. Ernst how good my foot would look, protruding from his backside, and hung up. Then I called the next person on my list, Sgt. McAdams United States Marine Corps. I chose a new goal, right then, right there. Not necessarily what I had hoped for, but what I was going to do.
He told me that by law, I would have to wait until my cast is off, for me to begin talking of enlisting. That was easy, I got it wet, and slipped it off with a Buck knife. I told him my story, and we conceived a way for me to get in without lying, yet without disclosing the gravity of the injury I sustained.
In just a few weeks, I was well on my way to becoming a Marine, it wasn’t what I had wanted, but in a way, I was still going to be a profession athlete. Someone who is paid to stay in shape, and whose athletic performance can mean success or failure for his team. In this case, failure means death.
It wasn’t the glorious dream I been having about football. Hell, it wasn’t even close. Football was pretty, with shining lights reflecting off from the helmets, girls lined up to cheer you on, fans in the stands shouting your name, hoping you do well. No the marines were different. It is dirty, and foul. At times seeming like a punishment, that I had chosen to endure. Though, the completion of each day brought about a sense of success, and bond to the other Marines that even football could not compare to. In the end it, it wasn’t my boyhood dream filled, it was my new adult dream, made a reality.
Rewind now to a month after my senior year, and high school graduation. It was the day after my graduation party; I had a headache, a few empty kegs, and a plethora of my friends lying in the grass around me. I was the first awake, and the sun was beating down on us relentlessly. I woke my friends, and conned them into another adventure. A week in the woods! No food! No water! No phones, chew, cigarettes… nothing! We would take guns, and knives. Anything we could hunt we would eat. It took a lot of convincing, as my friends aren’t as adventurous as myself. Yet, they agreed, and it was off to the forest we went. We were soon skipping under the canopy that was my parents’ woods. I led the team of scouts, hooting and hollering, to a place I had already decided on. A dry river bed, with a 5 foot waterfall. It was perfect. We would use the rock of the fall as the back wall of our shelter. If we were going to be staying a week, we would need a shelter, and a good one at that. I knew I had to be the one to build it. I took to the project like a pig to mud. I sent my good buddy Matt up a tree. It was a rather small tree, and the perfect one for the front entrance of our shelter. He hung onto the tree top, and pulled it down to me. I quickly tied the end to the ground, and began creating our new home. I was using a rather, or better yet, unnecessarily large knife to knock the branches of from this tree. This step was necessary in our building plan. I had my fist balled tightly around the tree, almost as if I was holding a beer. After a few good whacks on the branches, I began getting arrogant and careless. It didn’t take long for me to make a mistake, and a costly one at that. I swung the sword sized belt knife too hard. It went right through the branch, and into my balled fist. It hit my left index finger at a 45-degree angle, spraying my face with blood. I looked down to see my bone severed, and a rubber band looking tissue severed as well. That was my tendon. I quickly began swearing. Not yelling, or even cursing, just a few swear words at a time. I quickly took my shirt off, carfully as not to rip the skin that was now connecting my finger to the rest of me. I quickly wrapped my dangling finger in the shirt, before putting it under my armpit. I kept it tightly squeezed in my underarm to keep a good amount pressure applied, as this prevents bleeding. I grabbed a buddy, and ran the mile and a half obstacle course back to the house.
When I got to the house, I regained my composer, sensing this as a good opportunity to make a joke around my mother. It was a perfect set up. She was snoozing on the couch, and in the sun, like an outstretched cat. I woke her. “Mom, do you want to go to town?” “What for?” She rebutted in a groggy state. “To sew my finger back on? What do you think?” That is when I showed her. She was surprised, to say the least. She took me to the hospital, where I had 20-some stitches in my finger, and more in the tendon to reconnect it as well. I was put in a cast to stop my all my fingers from bending, as one bending can put stress on the other. To understand the rest of the evening’s events, you would almost have to know me on a personal level. Otherwise you might just think I’m crazy. After leaving the emergency room in an arm cast, and arriving home, I went back to the woods, to link up with my friends. Much to my disappointment my return to the woods was not a pleasant one. - I had brought one cigar, for myself. I am not a usual smoker, but I wanted to have one while enjoying nature.
My friends had smoked it. All that remained was a rubbed out- stepped on-dirt covered butt. I was almost in tears. We didn’t remain in the woods long though. Frog legs, a delicacy in some places, ended our night. My pal Matthew decided to boil one in beer, and eat it. This was nearly the end of him. He was quick to begin vomiting. Apparently, under cooked, beer boil frog legs, can cause food poisoning. Weird, huh?
All of this happened on a weekend. When Monday rolled around, and I received my usually check in call from Ripon head coach, Coach Ernst. I told him the situation I was in with my hand and finger, and all about my upcoming surgery. He made it clear to me that being in a cast, missing the upcoming summer camp, and preseason workouts wear going to cost me my spot on the team. He made it known that being unable to participate, would result in the early termination of my connection with Ripon football. I was done.
I didn’t see this injury as a life changing event, but plenty of others did. I cut my left index finger nearly off. I severed tendons, and bone. I was supposed to spend the next 3 months in a full arm cast, and attend physical therapy. What the doctors really meant was, that they wanted me to sit idly by, and watch my dreams sink away.
The cast didn’t last long, but the dreams are no longer a possibility. This is when I realized, I would no longer be a college athlete. I wouldn’t get my chance to play college ball, as my eligibility had started, and it was too late to get on another team. Besides, what team wants to chance it on a kid with a hand that might not function?
I, being the person that I am, did not miss a step. I simply told Mr. Ernst how good my foot would look, protruding from his backside, and hung up. Then I called the next person on my list, Sgt. McAdams United States Marine Corps. I chose a new goal, right then, right there. Not necessarily what I had hoped for, but what I was going to do.
He told me that by law, I would have to wait until my cast is off, for me to begin talking of enlisting. That was easy, I got it wet, and slipped it off with a Buck knife. I told him my story, and we conceived a way for me to get in without lying, yet without disclosing the gravity of the injury I sustained.
In just a few weeks, I was well on my way to becoming a Marine, it wasn’t what I had wanted, but in a way, I was still going to be a profession athlete. Someone who is paid to stay in shape, and whose athletic performance can mean success or failure for his team. In this case, failure means death.
It wasn’t the glorious dream I been having about football. Hell, it wasn’t even close. Football was pretty, with shining lights reflecting off from the helmets, girls lined up to cheer you on, fans in the stands shouting your name, hoping you do well. No the marines were different. It is dirty, and foul. At times seeming like a punishment, that I had chosen to endure. Though, the completion of each day brought about a sense of success, and bond to the other Marines that even football could not compare to. In the end it, it wasn’t my boyhood dream filled, it was my new adult dream, made a reality.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
American Media Trends
Tomorrow marks the 235 birthday of my United States Marine Corps. That makes the Corps older than the united states themselves! The Marines have a rich, tradition riddled heritage. Started in 1775 November 10th, at Tun Tavern Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
But you didn't know that. America doesn't know that. I turned on the radio today, and all I heard about was Conan O'Brien new show, and the NFL. I think that their are more important things for our country to take from our media than the first lady accidentally getting a handshake. Men die everyday for one another in Afghanistan, but the news will not tell their stories of honor. Men have won the medal of honor, the navy cross, other various awards, and it isn't radio time worthy? that's bullshit. It really makes me mad. Is it that people don't care about our Military? I don't know what to think about any of it.
This man is up for the medal of honor for his actions in Afghanistan in 2009. But I'll bet you never heard his name before. Here is his story..
“Meyer was recommended for his actions on Sept. 8, 2009, near the village of Ganjgal in Kunar province. He charged into a kill zone on foot and alone to find three missing Marines and a Navy corpsman who had been pinned down under enemy fire for hours by about 150 well-armed insurgents. Already wounded by shrapnel before braving enemy fire, he found them dead and stripped of their gear and weapons, and carried them out of the kill zone with the help of Afghan soldiers, according to military documents obtained by Marine Corps Times.” (Marine Corps times online, para 5)
Is it that the news reporters are afraid to talk about the war, for fear of depicting it in a negative manner?
Thursday veterans can go and get a free meal at a few restaurants here in town, for veterans day. One day a year? Come on now. I as a restaurant owner, could not accept money from a man who lost his leg in a war for my country.
I just think that America needs to look at what is really important, and what isn't before they start putting things on the news.
But you didn't know that. America doesn't know that. I turned on the radio today, and all I heard about was Conan O'Brien new show, and the NFL. I think that their are more important things for our country to take from our media than the first lady accidentally getting a handshake. Men die everyday for one another in Afghanistan, but the news will not tell their stories of honor. Men have won the medal of honor, the navy cross, other various awards, and it isn't radio time worthy? that's bullshit. It really makes me mad. Is it that people don't care about our Military? I don't know what to think about any of it.
This man is up for the medal of honor for his actions in Afghanistan in 2009. But I'll bet you never heard his name before. Here is his story..
“Meyer was recommended for his actions on Sept. 8, 2009, near the village of Ganjgal in Kunar province. He charged into a kill zone on foot and alone to find three missing Marines and a Navy corpsman who had been pinned down under enemy fire for hours by about 150 well-armed insurgents. Already wounded by shrapnel before braving enemy fire, he found them dead and stripped of their gear and weapons, and carried them out of the kill zone with the help of Afghan soldiers, according to military documents obtained by Marine Corps Times.” (Marine Corps times online, para 5)
Is it that the news reporters are afraid to talk about the war, for fear of depicting it in a negative manner?
Thursday veterans can go and get a free meal at a few restaurants here in town, for veterans day. One day a year? Come on now. I as a restaurant owner, could not accept money from a man who lost his leg in a war for my country.
I just think that America needs to look at what is really important, and what isn't before they start putting things on the news.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Shot dead.
A woman was shot dead, after returning home to her husband. She was just returning home after a Halloween party late in the morning, around 4:30am. She was found dead in her Atlanta home.
Her husband, the murderer, was arrested after the police found him walking naked in the local park. He had just turned 29. The weirdest part about this story is, the two had been married only a few days. The tied the knot on Oct. 10th, of this year!
The wife, 25 year old Madison Mclester, was shot several times. The husband was charged with murder, and is yet to be sentenced.
This is messed up. You get married, and 10 20 days later kill your wife? I can't say I'm shocked.. but the man had to know what marriage was going to be like before he said 'I do.' haha I'm joking, (kind of)
Either way though, this is odd. The police said they don't yet have a motive for the killing. If drugs are not involved, that man may be physco. If it was me, I'd say the spirits of Halloween got to me, and I thought she was a monster so I fired controlled pairs into her chest, until all of my weapons ammunition had been discharged.
Halloween would be the perfect time to pull of a murder, expecting to get away with it, pleading momentary insanity. Its a tense holiday, lots of scary eerie feelings in the air. Not to mention the new movie paranormal activity 2? Scarryyy.
I'm unsure of the whole story here. Maybe she was out cheating on him, maybe she came home and scared him. Maybe he just didn't want to be married anymore. Who knows.
Her husband, the murderer, was arrested after the police found him walking naked in the local park. He had just turned 29. The weirdest part about this story is, the two had been married only a few days. The tied the knot on Oct. 10th, of this year!
The wife, 25 year old Madison Mclester, was shot several times. The husband was charged with murder, and is yet to be sentenced.
This is messed up. You get married, and 10 20 days later kill your wife? I can't say I'm shocked.. but the man had to know what marriage was going to be like before he said 'I do.' haha I'm joking, (kind of)
Either way though, this is odd. The police said they don't yet have a motive for the killing. If drugs are not involved, that man may be physco. If it was me, I'd say the spirits of Halloween got to me, and I thought she was a monster so I fired controlled pairs into her chest, until all of my weapons ammunition had been discharged.
Halloween would be the perfect time to pull of a murder, expecting to get away with it, pleading momentary insanity. Its a tense holiday, lots of scary eerie feelings in the air. Not to mention the new movie paranormal activity 2? Scarryyy.
I'm unsure of the whole story here. Maybe she was out cheating on him, maybe she came home and scared him. Maybe he just didn't want to be married anymore. Who knows.
Political commercials are all over the news. They are on the television, they are on the radio, they are everywhere! Every single one sounds exactly the same. Some one stole money, to pay personal debts. Some one said this, some one is going to say that. Billy Bob will raise taxes until hell freezes over. To be quite honest, I don't even know who is running, all that I know is who ever gets elected, will have broken the law, stole money, taken illegal funds, or something down those lines.
There is no such thing as an honest politician. All of the politicians are in it, to win for themselves. You and I would have to be crazy to believe that someone wants to spend millions of dollars to run for senate, or congress, just so they can help us. People may want to help, but they are not going to spend that kind of money, or put in that kind of and effort just to do so. If they wanted to help people so bad, why don't they volunteer at the soup kitchen.
Whatever happened to an honest America? A place where you could look someone in the eye, shake their hand, and know that whatever they said was exactly what they meant? What happened to people being straight forward, what you see is what you get; no one trying to sneak anything past the next guy?
Are those things of the past? Do Americans only care about themselves? Where can a guy go to make an honest days pay, doing an honest job? Or pay an honest price without having hidden fees?
It seems like everything in life now is about money. Anytime I have a job done I always have to ask, "Is that the total cost? Is there more to it than this?"
I shouldn't have to ask what the final price is a hundred times. Everything in our society could stand to be a lot more truthful. It used to be, if someone called you a liar, you could kill them right there. No questions asked, just pull out a gun, and shoot them. I wish it were still like that. I also wish we could carry concealed weapons here in Wisconsin. People would think twice about adding hidden fees, when your standing there with a .45acp under your jacket.
America needs to toughen up, as well as buck up. No more fancy Hollywood BS, its time for America to return once again to its original state of true blue, hard working concerned citizens.
There is no such thing as an honest politician. All of the politicians are in it, to win for themselves. You and I would have to be crazy to believe that someone wants to spend millions of dollars to run for senate, or congress, just so they can help us. People may want to help, but they are not going to spend that kind of money, or put in that kind of and effort just to do so. If they wanted to help people so bad, why don't they volunteer at the soup kitchen.
Whatever happened to an honest America? A place where you could look someone in the eye, shake their hand, and know that whatever they said was exactly what they meant? What happened to people being straight forward, what you see is what you get; no one trying to sneak anything past the next guy?
Are those things of the past? Do Americans only care about themselves? Where can a guy go to make an honest days pay, doing an honest job? Or pay an honest price without having hidden fees?
It seems like everything in life now is about money. Anytime I have a job done I always have to ask, "Is that the total cost? Is there more to it than this?"
I shouldn't have to ask what the final price is a hundred times. Everything in our society could stand to be a lot more truthful. It used to be, if someone called you a liar, you could kill them right there. No questions asked, just pull out a gun, and shoot them. I wish it were still like that. I also wish we could carry concealed weapons here in Wisconsin. People would think twice about adding hidden fees, when your standing there with a .45acp under your jacket.
America needs to toughen up, as well as buck up. No more fancy Hollywood BS, its time for America to return once again to its original state of true blue, hard working concerned citizens.
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