... in the heat of the moment, and may have said some things that I regret regarding the settlement of Syrian refugees in the US. I am not against granting political asylum to people who are being bombed out of their own homes by people who have perverted a religion to their own vision of settling the Crusades once and for all. If we were a Nation where no citizens were homeless, or hungry, or lacking in any of the necessities of life, I'd be the first person in line to welcome them to my country. If we didn't have thousands of my brother and sister veterans being denied the medical care that was promised them in their enlistment contracts, I would help lay down the red carpet. The fact is, that neither of these things have been done, and have gotten worse under an administration that views it's military with disdain, and would rather give tax money to people who cross the border illegally (yeah, I said it) than make good on it's promises to those who sacrificed to serve the Nation.
Charity Begins at Home. I once saw these words, embroidered and framed, in the hallway of a friend's home, many years ago. We could, probably, argue for hours over what that means, but it's certainly apt for America today. We pay taxpayer dollars, millions of them, to people and organizations that hate us. Why? We make critical deals with a theocracy that despises the West and says, straight out, that they have no intention of honoring any deal with the infidels, and then we release hundreds of millions of dollars in seized assets so they can further their goal of developing a nuclear weapon. Is it just me, or is there a major league-sized idiocy going on?
The "good" news is that the illegal's from Mexico are going home (anchor babies and all) faster than they are coming into the country, according to the Associated Press. According to their story, more than a million people crossed back into Mexico from 2009 - 2014, while some 870,000 illegals came in over the same period. Net flow back to Mexico was 140,000, citing the poor economy, tightening of border enforcement, and a desire to reunite families as the primary reasons. Personally, I think it may have been, at least partially, caused by a change in the National consensus, more people seeing illegals as "a problem," rather than as a people.
The "bad" news is we still have an extremely porous Southern border. There will be a number of jihadists among the Syrian refugees trying to come to the US, and the Government might actually screw up and catch a couple of them, even a blind squirrel... I fear the ones that would come across the Southern border more. If the screening process for the Syrians is any good, a person might get through, but a jihadist could come across the Southern border along with some chemical/biological agents that could kill millions.
No, I am not against immigrants. I have them in my family, people who came from Ireland and Scotland to try to make a living in America. They came through Ellis Island, and withstood all of the degradation associated with that, and came in legally. If the screening process of Syrians is anything like that, I'd probably feel a lot better about them. I oppose no one based upon their religious beliefs. I have known and associated with people from around the globe, and somehow that subject just doesn't come up that often.
I was lucky, and had my first "foreign" experience before I was 21. I was out on my own, for the first time, really, in countries who's only restriction on drinking was an ability to put money on the counter. NOT being a member of any church, at the time, I gave in to the idea of drinking "to make up for the times we couldn't" (supposedly while we were out at sea). To be honest, more than one bunk had a small bar in it, a couple of bottles, or so. We had a guy take the guts out of a photo processing machine, and turn it into a source of heat and security for a home wine making kit. The new processors were installed several months prior to our deployment during an overhaul, and the Photographer's Mate in charge recognized it's potential right away. The result was that we left Norfolk with 10 gallons of homemade wine, fermented with a little heat, that was very, very strong. Those who were "in" on the scam could get half of one coffee cup full each day, when their shift was over, and not before. The reason for that was, it was so strong, you were better off waiting until you got into your bunk before drinking it. A "shot" is one ounce. Half of a coffee cup is four ounces. Drinkers, imagine what effect four ounces of "Jack," or some other such liquor. It was the same with four ounces of the "Photo Finish," as we came to name it. Drink it within a few minutes, and your BAC would go to .2 or better. Night-night!
My second cruise was much better. PACE (Program for Afloat College Education) had a teacher on board for the entire six months who was a linguist, and spoke more than a dozen different languages. He was treated as an "officer," and given a private stateroom to hang out in when he wasn't teaching (or hiding out during drills). Whenever we would go into a new port, I would ask him to give me a phonetic breakdown of three basic things: "Hello, my name is Steven." "I do not speak [language]." "Could you take me to someone who speaks English." Funny, even the guy who, ten seconds before "spoke no Englee," suddenly develops an amazing capacity for the language. It seemed as though, if I took the time to learn some phrases, and speak them in a polished manner, the people appreciated the time I put in to learn them, and be most helpful. It was a much better deployment during which I met a bunch of really nice people, including a group of Russian Sailors we met on a trip to the Black Sea side of Turkey. I have the utmost respect for all people, their customs, and their traditions.
Hate is the result of Fear. Fear is the result of ignorance. We fear what we do not know. As I got to know people abroad, I became less afraid, and strangers (for the moment) became good friends. A cab driver we met on our first trip into Athens, came and looked for us at the landing whenever INDY was in the bay (Piraeus Bay in Athens). He took us everywhere, and we'd pay him $20 apiece for the whole day, as there were three of us, he fared quite well in 1973 dollars and drachmas, and invited us into his home to meet his family. The three of us spent our next two paychecks getting stuff from the Exchange for his wife and kids for Christmas. On our last free night before leaving the Eastern Mediterranean, they brought us over for dinner, and hugged us, thanking us for our generosities, we took pictures with them (rather they took pictures of us), and we all had a good cry before we left. I never saw them again, but they are etched in my heart forever.
Now you know why I call this a "Ramble".
Friday, November 20, 2015
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Brian Gardner Posted a Study on Facebook...
... concerning a resurgence in the use of LSD, and how that might trigger a renewed interest in Progressive Rock, an often overlooked, but very interesting variation on more traditional Rock themes.
Sorry, Brian, but I wanted to explain my comment, and didn't want to do it on Facebook.
I totally admit, and really haven't ever tried to deny the fact that I used drugs, fairly frequently, from the time I turned 16. Believe me, I regret it, but not like anyone would accept. I regret the fact that my self-esteem was so low that I had to hang out with some of the people I hung out with, although a lot of that had to do with the fact that I started smoking at 10, and, even in the early '60's, smokers were somewhat ostracized by the more "popular" kids, tending to hang out in groups of kids that smoked. We weren't the Popular crowd, but I found out later that quite a few of them smoked, and were just being A-holes to people they just didn't like. I didn't figure it out until much later, but smoking was a symptom of a much bigger problem.
Your dad can tell you, that teachers used the terms "stupid," "dumb," and "idiot" back in the '50's and '60's pretty freely. Classes then weren't the "touchy-feely, every one's a winner" things they've evolved into. You stepped out of line, somebody smacked you, and you didn't go home and tell Mommy and Daddy about it, because they'd probably beat your ass for being a problem in the first place. I didn't know until I was 19 that I had a 135 IQ, so I went through 13 years of public school thinking I was stupid, dumb, and an idiot. Re-enforced by my parents, who weren't equipped to deal with me, and who deferred to what the teachers said.
And that's only part of it, too. I could give you a whole lot of psychological/sociological/behavioral reasons why I did it, but to be honest, I mostly did it because I had a whole lot of fun. Particularly LSD.
Understand, my drug use was purely recreational. I never got "hooked" on anything, nor did I ever consider using cocaine, heroin, or anything like that, although I did do opium a couple of times, and could see how that could be a problem. Shrooms? Acid? A handful of Bennies? That was a pretty good Friday night, and sometimes Saturday, too. We hung out in the park like "Hippies," only we lacked the commitment to a lifestyle that included infrequent bathing.
Occasionally, we'd wait until Saturday morning to "drop" (take) the LSD tablet, and do an all-day trip (pun not intended, but it did work pretty well). During the Winter, we'd go to Tahoe, or one of the ski resorts, and just play in the snow like kids. Sure, kids never got "trails" off a snow ball, or any of the thousand things that caused one of us to say, "Oh Wow!" We had gone up in the daytime, and it was pretty cold in the back of the pick-up we rode up in, but after dark... towards the end, we were in a pile in the back of the truck, as close to the cab as everyone could get. In hindsight, probably not the best planned trip to the snow, but those of us who went had the time of their lives, playing in the snow (I know I've never seen snow the same way since).
Every once in a while, after we got married, I would get an offer to do a tab of Acid, and I turned it down, almost every time. There was this one time, in Louisiana, after we had lost our daughter Amy, I said, "OK."
We went water skiing on the Pearl River, right on the Mississippi/Louisiana border. I've tried to sit down and write this experience out many, many times, and just can't do it justice. There were no hallucinations (although I thought I saw an alligator), but everything was funny. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! A bird lands on a bush. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA. I do a face-plant in the middle of the river. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA. The alligator. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA.
I woke up, the next morning, and my sides hurt. I started to think about the previous day, and start to chuckle again, OW! That was the last time, though. It's odd, because all of the other ones had great colors, and more than a few hallucinations, but there was always music involved in the others, just a boat motor, and the sound of three idiots laughing themselves silly.
The interest in Progressive Rock goes back to when most people had turntables, and PRock songs are usually pretty long, so you didn't have to change the record as often (which was BS, anyway, because vinyl could only take so much). If you had a reel-to-reel tape player/recorder, you could make tapes that were 6 hours long, and PRock albums could play uninterrupted.
Back before headphones became popular, I used to listen to music with my head between the stereo speakers, when I came back with a real good buzz going. It's A Beautiful Day, by a band of the same name, was particularly moving for me, once you get past "White Bird," which was the groups only hit, the album really gets good, particularly for someone on Acid.
I will say the same thing I always do, when this subject comes up, and that is, "Don't do it." Yeah, I did, and I survived, but that was 50 years ago, and people aren't the same. We used to get our Acid from Chemistry students at UC Davis, Sac State, and Berkley. They were pretty conscientious about what they used as fillers, often using Tylenol or Aspirin. Now, people really only care about the money. Who says you'd even have the same experiences I did, even if I could set up the same circumstances (one really good one was at a BB King show at the Filmore West. After BB played his set, and did some post show "jamming" with the likes of Mike Bloomfield, Buddy Miles, Al Cooper, and Dave Brown, the bassist for Santana, Johnny Winter came in, and they played until daybreak).
Would I do it again? Probably not, but then I would risk having an entirely different view of life.
Sorry, Brian, but I wanted to explain my comment, and didn't want to do it on Facebook.
I totally admit, and really haven't ever tried to deny the fact that I used drugs, fairly frequently, from the time I turned 16. Believe me, I regret it, but not like anyone would accept. I regret the fact that my self-esteem was so low that I had to hang out with some of the people I hung out with, although a lot of that had to do with the fact that I started smoking at 10, and, even in the early '60's, smokers were somewhat ostracized by the more "popular" kids, tending to hang out in groups of kids that smoked. We weren't the Popular crowd, but I found out later that quite a few of them smoked, and were just being A-holes to people they just didn't like. I didn't figure it out until much later, but smoking was a symptom of a much bigger problem.
Your dad can tell you, that teachers used the terms "stupid," "dumb," and "idiot" back in the '50's and '60's pretty freely. Classes then weren't the "touchy-feely, every one's a winner" things they've evolved into. You stepped out of line, somebody smacked you, and you didn't go home and tell Mommy and Daddy about it, because they'd probably beat your ass for being a problem in the first place. I didn't know until I was 19 that I had a 135 IQ, so I went through 13 years of public school thinking I was stupid, dumb, and an idiot. Re-enforced by my parents, who weren't equipped to deal with me, and who deferred to what the teachers said.
And that's only part of it, too. I could give you a whole lot of psychological/sociological/behavioral reasons why I did it, but to be honest, I mostly did it because I had a whole lot of fun. Particularly LSD.
Understand, my drug use was purely recreational. I never got "hooked" on anything, nor did I ever consider using cocaine, heroin, or anything like that, although I did do opium a couple of times, and could see how that could be a problem. Shrooms? Acid? A handful of Bennies? That was a pretty good Friday night, and sometimes Saturday, too. We hung out in the park like "Hippies," only we lacked the commitment to a lifestyle that included infrequent bathing.
Occasionally, we'd wait until Saturday morning to "drop" (take) the LSD tablet, and do an all-day trip (pun not intended, but it did work pretty well). During the Winter, we'd go to Tahoe, or one of the ski resorts, and just play in the snow like kids. Sure, kids never got "trails" off a snow ball, or any of the thousand things that caused one of us to say, "Oh Wow!" We had gone up in the daytime, and it was pretty cold in the back of the pick-up we rode up in, but after dark... towards the end, we were in a pile in the back of the truck, as close to the cab as everyone could get. In hindsight, probably not the best planned trip to the snow, but those of us who went had the time of their lives, playing in the snow (I know I've never seen snow the same way since).
Every once in a while, after we got married, I would get an offer to do a tab of Acid, and I turned it down, almost every time. There was this one time, in Louisiana, after we had lost our daughter Amy, I said, "OK."
We went water skiing on the Pearl River, right on the Mississippi/Louisiana border. I've tried to sit down and write this experience out many, many times, and just can't do it justice. There were no hallucinations (although I thought I saw an alligator), but everything was funny. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! A bird lands on a bush. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA. I do a face-plant in the middle of the river. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA. The alligator. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA.
I woke up, the next morning, and my sides hurt. I started to think about the previous day, and start to chuckle again, OW! That was the last time, though. It's odd, because all of the other ones had great colors, and more than a few hallucinations, but there was always music involved in the others, just a boat motor, and the sound of three idiots laughing themselves silly.
The interest in Progressive Rock goes back to when most people had turntables, and PRock songs are usually pretty long, so you didn't have to change the record as often (which was BS, anyway, because vinyl could only take so much). If you had a reel-to-reel tape player/recorder, you could make tapes that were 6 hours long, and PRock albums could play uninterrupted.
Back before headphones became popular, I used to listen to music with my head between the stereo speakers, when I came back with a real good buzz going. It's A Beautiful Day, by a band of the same name, was particularly moving for me, once you get past "White Bird," which was the groups only hit, the album really gets good, particularly for someone on Acid.
I will say the same thing I always do, when this subject comes up, and that is, "Don't do it." Yeah, I did, and I survived, but that was 50 years ago, and people aren't the same. We used to get our Acid from Chemistry students at UC Davis, Sac State, and Berkley. They were pretty conscientious about what they used as fillers, often using Tylenol or Aspirin. Now, people really only care about the money. Who says you'd even have the same experiences I did, even if I could set up the same circumstances (one really good one was at a BB King show at the Filmore West. After BB played his set, and did some post show "jamming" with the likes of Mike Bloomfield, Buddy Miles, Al Cooper, and Dave Brown, the bassist for Santana, Johnny Winter came in, and they played until daybreak).
Would I do it again? Probably not, but then I would risk having an entirely different view of life.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
My Appologies...
... it's been a while since I posted anything. My usual modus operendi is to turn on some music, and write my little heart out. On September 22 last, I opened up iTunes, and was alerted to a "new and improved" update to iTunes, and all I had to do was click on the "Download" icon to get it. I've had my disagreements with iTunes, but since Mary bought me an iPod, back when they were 2.5 inches square, and could hold a whopping 4 gigabytes, I've put up with it. Since I got the thing, there have been several updates, and Apple improved the product, making it a little easier to do things in iTunes. I thought, "Okay, lets update." It proved to be a bad choice.
I'm not exactly an idiot when it comes to computers, and after a career in the Navy I've learned how to follow simple instructions, which I did to the letter. iTunes asked for and executed a Restart on my computer, in order to effect the changes. After the restart, I clicked on the iTunes icon, and came up with an error saying that a certain file was not installed, and iTunes could not run. Naturally, I figured something got lost in the download, so I tried it again, and again, and... well, you get the idea.
I decided to call Apple, and see what they could tell me. It was a great idea, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I went to every page of Apple's website, looking for a da**ed phone number, and couldn't find one. I don't type very fast, not nearly as fast as I used to, because of the arthritis in my fingers, so I was reluctant to try doing an on-line chat with a technician, but it was the only choice I had. I clicked on the link, and got to a very nice lady who asked if I'd feel more comfortable talking on the phone. I, of course, answered "Yes," and a couple of minutes later she called me, and we talked about my efforts, and the error message I kept getting. I wish I'd have written her name down, because she was very helpful, to the extent of her knowledge, and when she realized that she was in over her head, she passed me on to one of the senior programmers.
That name I remember, because as the time wore on, she said it was her time to clock out, and that she would send me an e-mail that day, and a progress update the following day (a Friday). Nothing came. I waited a week, and sent an e-mail to her asking if I was being pushy in asking what progress was being made. Nothing came. Two weeks later, I send another e-mail, a little more terse than the first, suggesting that my next e-mail may be considerably less friendly. Nothing came. I wait two more weeks, and send an e-mail, "Are you doing anything, or are you just going to keep jerking me around?" Nothing came for two more weeks.
Finally, I get a response from her, telling me that she had some problems, and was out of the office until the previous day (a Wednesday), and she would be more than happy to call me, at a time of my choice, on the following day (a Friday). I told her 10am my time (noon where she worked) figuring the least I could, do after having to wait for a month and a half of waiting, would be to screw up her lunch on Friday. It didn't work. At 11am, I send her a note, reminding her of my phone number ("in case she lost it"). At 11:30, she calls, claiming she was on another call, and actually being rather "huffy" about it, in spite of the fact that the whole thing could have been avoided if she hadn't ignored me the first time.
Long story short... I have my iTunes back, and consequently I am spending more time with my computer, and getting back into writing.
I've got a lot to write about, I've discovered recently. Maybe after just getting back to it, I needed an opportunity to get my thoughts organized.
I'm not exactly an idiot when it comes to computers, and after a career in the Navy I've learned how to follow simple instructions, which I did to the letter. iTunes asked for and executed a Restart on my computer, in order to effect the changes. After the restart, I clicked on the iTunes icon, and came up with an error saying that a certain file was not installed, and iTunes could not run. Naturally, I figured something got lost in the download, so I tried it again, and again, and... well, you get the idea.
I decided to call Apple, and see what they could tell me. It was a great idea, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I went to every page of Apple's website, looking for a da**ed phone number, and couldn't find one. I don't type very fast, not nearly as fast as I used to, because of the arthritis in my fingers, so I was reluctant to try doing an on-line chat with a technician, but it was the only choice I had. I clicked on the link, and got to a very nice lady who asked if I'd feel more comfortable talking on the phone. I, of course, answered "Yes," and a couple of minutes later she called me, and we talked about my efforts, and the error message I kept getting. I wish I'd have written her name down, because she was very helpful, to the extent of her knowledge, and when she realized that she was in over her head, she passed me on to one of the senior programmers.
That name I remember, because as the time wore on, she said it was her time to clock out, and that she would send me an e-mail that day, and a progress update the following day (a Friday). Nothing came. I waited a week, and sent an e-mail to her asking if I was being pushy in asking what progress was being made. Nothing came. Two weeks later, I send another e-mail, a little more terse than the first, suggesting that my next e-mail may be considerably less friendly. Nothing came. I wait two more weeks, and send an e-mail, "Are you doing anything, or are you just going to keep jerking me around?" Nothing came for two more weeks.
Finally, I get a response from her, telling me that she had some problems, and was out of the office until the previous day (a Wednesday), and she would be more than happy to call me, at a time of my choice, on the following day (a Friday). I told her 10am my time (noon where she worked) figuring the least I could, do after having to wait for a month and a half of waiting, would be to screw up her lunch on Friday. It didn't work. At 11am, I send her a note, reminding her of my phone number ("in case she lost it"). At 11:30, she calls, claiming she was on another call, and actually being rather "huffy" about it, in spite of the fact that the whole thing could have been avoided if she hadn't ignored me the first time.
Long story short... I have my iTunes back, and consequently I am spending more time with my computer, and getting back into writing.
I've got a lot to write about, I've discovered recently. Maybe after just getting back to it, I needed an opportunity to get my thoughts organized.
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