Standards and Grudges

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One thing desperately missing in this era are the genius inventors. In the past century, the brilliant and often eccentric minds have been lured away from their small workshops with a handful of assistants, in favor of corporate think tanks, university laboratories and government agencies. That is the real legacy of Thomas Edison. The genius has been shackled, burdened with bureaucracy, berated by executives hungry for product and plagued by uncertain funding that evaporates at the whim of a Senators earmark. It was high society, robber barons and a public in awe of the new technologies that gave rise to the great inventors. In short time machines, electricity and brilliant devices became mundane, routine. Departing from the old way of Kings and Princes that sponsored great minds, high society sought recognition through philanthropy, creating charities bearing their name. The robber barons were castrated. Their monopolies divided, rightfully so. The urgent need to endow inventors came to an end. From that point on the process of discovery became sterile, clinical and for the most part, slow.

The last of the great inventors was Nikola Tesla. His imagination, ingenuity and determination are unmatched by any mind, in any era. A great curiosity was his ability to construct in his mind a machine, find the faults and refine the design. When he knew the machine would work, he then set to construction without once putting pen to paper. As if a form of magic, the machine would function, performing amazing results. More than a hundred years later some of his demonstrations with electricity have yet to be duplicated. Many of his devices have been lost and the designs only existed in his mind. He truly was a Wizard of the highest order.

The imagination of Tesla was his greatest gift to society. Some of his ideas were so grandiose that it tickles the spirit. I laughed hysterically when I read of his idea to construct a ring around the equator encompassing the entire earth. I did not laugh because it was absurd, but because it was absolutely brilliant. It would be built on scaffolding and when complete, the supporting structure removed. The ring would not fall, could not fall. An enormous structure defying gravity.

The fact that no one has been able to duplicate many of Tesla’s demonstrations makes me wonder about the power of belief. There’s a line of thought that reality is merely a construct of our beliefs and perceptions. Gravity exists because we believe it does. We cannot believe otherwise. Try as you might, you know that if you jump, you will fall back to Earth. What then would happen if a strong mind set forth to experiment with unknown forces? Tesla often said that he would be stricken with the realization that he knew a solution to a problem, but the idea had yet to form in his mind. He first had the belief, then the reality followed. In the absence of competing beliefs, he formed the laws that governed electricity. Regardless, scientists to this day are finding valuable applications for devices Tesla constructed that were at the time thought to be little more than parlor tricks.

But this is a new, cowardly era. Challenges have been watered down. Defeat, failure are treated as something that can be legislated or managed out of existence. Failure is essential. It is a lesson that must be learned by all, especially the young when they are in those formative years soaking in experience like water to a sponge. Participation trophies, effort grading at primary school, the elimination of competitive activities and government bailouts will lead only to catastrophic failure that the coddled populace is ill prepared to handle. The realization that failure has occurred with be so shocking to their minds that they will be paralyzed to act.

What I find unfathomable is that so many believe the government not only has a duty to save these failing companies, but that the government will actually be able to do so. It was the government—despicable career politicians that crafted banking, bankruptcy and insurance laws on behalf of equally despicable lobbyists—that facilitated the lending market meltdown. Yet the bailout proceeded and only afterward to some realize that the money is being distributed and used in questionable ways.

Now the auto industry is begging for a piece, which they do not deserve. It is essential that those companies fail if for no other reason than to end the current union contracts. The union shares with the executives the responsibility for the failure. There was a time when unions served a noble and proper purpose, but they realized the power they could wield and they abused it. Working conditions were improved to acceptable levels. Pay and benefits were adequate. Once those were achieved, the relevancy of the union became questionable. To retain their power, they sold the idea to workers that more pay should be awarded for less work. The threat of strike supplanted the need to achieve new skills and responsibility to earn more pay. A union membership became the ticket to success rather than education, achievement and effort.

Without a doubt, many jobs will be lost if the auto industry bailout fails. But those jobs must be lost and wages realigned to the actual value of the work performed. Too much labor cost goes into the production of American cars. Too many factory positions exist, protected by labor contracts. The costs must be lowered to be competitive. The workers must also learn that treading water, holding the same position with the same skills for years on end, does not benefit the company or product. In the end their focus should be the product, because without they have no job, no livelihood.

However, I know the auto industry bailout will occur in some form. It’s inevitable given the statements by many powerful Democrats who now hold a majority in Congress, soon the White House and have a mistaken belief that they can fix everything with government spending. Failure will teach these companies, workers and the public a much more lasting lesson. The Democrats will delay the inevitable by spending money that doesn’t exist. In the end the public will be forced to deal with a problem few can even comprehend, stagflation.

We need new Wizards, crafting new discoveries, to step forward and lay the foundations for new industries and jobs. A new era of prosperity and imagination. A future.

The dawn of my time in Iraq is fast approaching. The administrative tasks, such as filling out forms detailing the physical and psychological injuries I may have suffered, start next week. The highlight is a briefing called Right Finish. It’s not the least bit informative or helpful. It’s often referred to as the Don’t Go Home and Rape Your Wife briefing. In the course of the briefing they do threaten that if you rape your wife, you’ll be punished to the full extend of the law. What a wonderful image to put into peoples heads. Can’t they say something positive and righteous for a change?

Naturally the conversations between those of us leaving begin to revolve around what we’re going to do when we get home. For me this can lead to trouble. I’ve found one of the worst things you can do is raise your expectations. The reality is that life went on without you. Promises may have been made before you left. Promises may have been made while you were gone. Take those with a grain of salt and a tall glass of water—or in my case, four fingers of whisky. Expectations will fall apart under you. Best not be to far from the ground.

What I’m going to do when I get home is exceptionally simple. I shall do whatever I feel like at that given moment in time. Outside of a few well placed individuals, I will not make plans. I think I’m going to buy a new suit, no particular reason why. My Chicago plan may be scrapped because I’ll be going to Arizona in January for a couple weeks. The whole point of going to Chicago was to put myself out of place. That may seem odd since I’ve been away from home and out of place, but there’s a challenge to being out of place. In Arizona I’ll also have a chance to see my little brother and his wife, so I’ll need my reserves for causing them havoc. He now hunts illegal aliens and drug mules for a living. That job isn’t as cool as a pirate or ninja, but it’s certainly better than jockeying a cubicle and they give him a gun. Maybe they let him wear an eye patch to kick up the cool factor.

We’re working without days off now because I unfortunately work for an idiot obsessed with his legacy. He’s desperately hoping for a grand achievement before he retires. The people with the drive to lead are often the least suited to do so. I have yet to hear a single good idea come from that man. He’s the anti-Oracle. Go to him for advice and do the exact opposite. We live in an ugly world and people like him are able to accumulate power by selling out others. The entire munitions crew is working long hours and the end result will be a medal for him. I could suggest a 230 grain lead metal instead, but I wouldn’t dream of even hinting about threatening senior leadership. When he holds a meeting he likes to use phrases like “bring your A game” and “this is our chance to leave a legacy”. I think he hired a squad of writers that script made-for-television movies about underdog football teams that achieve glory due to the charisma of a crotchety old coach or a mentally retarded place kicker. That wasn’t politically correct of me, but I don’t care about delicate sensibilities.

I need a damn chiropractor or a nice solid jab between the shoulder blades. A vicious knot has worked around my upper spine. I’m sure that it has nothing to due with the 27 pounds of body armor I have to wear or the 84 hours I work in a week. I’ll have to go to the clinic before I leave so it gets entered on my medical record. In the military it’s vitally important to prove an injury is service related. For the Guard and Reserve it’s even more important because other than days we’re performing military duties, we don’t get the health coverage unless the injury is service related. If only I could claim a service related lack of sex.

If you care to read about some of the awesome physical damage I’ve been subject to, get on Google and search for “Air Force Times Balad burn pit”. Wonderful read.

It may be impossible to avoid election news or perhaps just highly improbable. The only big surprise was Proposition 8 in California. I remember in 2006 when the gay marriage ban passed in Wisconsin there were many transplants I knew that took that opportunity to call Wisconsin a bunch of ignorant backwoods hicks. Several of these people were from California. It turns out their home state has many more ignorant backwoods hicks. Four million, one hundred sixty four thousand, three hundred sixty two more to be exact. The eligible voter population of Wisconsin is slightly more than the number of voters that supported the gay marriage ban in California. Those that voted aren’t why the measure passed however. It was the many that didn’t. Only 38.5% of eligible voters in California voted. Only 38.5% bothered to get off their ass to decide the leaders of this country. Only 38.5% bothered to vote during a Presidential election. Only 38.5% exercised their vote during a war and economic crisis. Only 38.5% should be breathing today. Make no mistake, if it within my power they would not be. The apathetic deserve neither life nor freedom.

There I go again giving out hints about the future.

All in due time. There’s been a quiet and serious vibe around base. A subtle tension under the surface. Not about the election, but things happening over here in Iraq. Since the Syria incident there have been some developments. I’m not suggesting that Syria is a serious military threat. Hardly. This is just complicated because I’m not authorized to disclose details about military operations. In short, there’s concern that some of the neighbors may be attempting to provoke an incident. Why I can’t guess, but it would only end in tears for them.

The heavy rain weeks ago has caused an interesting change in the landscape. Small patches of vibrant green grass, clover like sprouts and fantastic little pricker plants grow in small bunches here and there, breaking up the larger expanses of tan desert, and the cold lifeless gray of concrete. This part of Iraq seems almost like Earth now. The roof of this world has bright blue skies with wisps of clouds like stretched and unraveling cotton balls. Patches of green, brown, gray and blue from the sky reflecting on pools of water, form the floor that extends to the thin black line of the horizon. Almost like Earth, but not quite. A camera could never capture the differences. They have to be felt, heard, sensed. Something unnamed is missing.

I find part of myself has changed as well. My testicles are now blue and verging towards black and bruised due to atrophy. This is a sincere concern for me. I’ll have to make serious effort to correct this once I return home, which is rapidly approaching. I’ve found that bedroom exercise is vitally important for a healthy body and mind. Doubly effective with a partner.

All of the terribly interesting news I can’t discuss. But if you’re watching the talking heads on the television and you hear them say “Balad”, then you’ll know part of what I’m hinting at.

The past few days my thoughts have been occupied by a stellar phenomenon of sorts. Well, not stellar at all, but an object in space. Last night as I was sitting outside contemplating how I would go about avoiding ridiculous speculation, unconfirmed reports and all-around bad journalism related to the election and I noticed the waxing moon hanging above the horizon. Our celestial parasite had taken on a pleasant hue, a coffee stain. As I watched the moon fall the light brown gave way to a more sinister tone. A deep and vibrant red. The color of warning, as if to say there’s a man behind you and he knows what you did with his wife. The moon is after all more in tune with the ebb and flow of space and the currents of time, the fourth dimension. I however do not believe the moon is sending us a message about the future. She hasn’t before, so why start now? Rather, I believe the moon is quite ashamed about something and once we figure it out, she is afraid we will unanimously vote we are better off without this embarrassment lurking in orbit.

As I said earlier, I’ve spent several days thinking about the color of the moon, and the coffee to blood incident was only last night. A few days ago near the end of my 12-hour shift I looked towards a noise above the west runway. A heavy transport had taken off and was making a hard banking left turn south, towards Baghdad, Kuwait or perhaps freedom and a return to the real world for the passengers—Qatar, the port of entry and departure for American troops. As the transport completed its full 180 degree turn and wings leveled I saw a tiny sliver hanging below, well beyond the horizon. It was a blood moon. A red crescent merely a half a thought wide. No good things will come of this I said to myself. I was not concerned that this moon was a sign. I had fear however that some degenerate cleric would point to the skies and proclaim that this is the sign he’d been waiting for. Seventy virgins await for the brave among his flock. Strap this vest of high explosives and ball bearings to your chest and blow up a school filled with innocent children. Allah demands blood.

I have not heard of an increase in suicide attacks. My prediction may have been completely off. After all, I don’t know very much about extremist Muslim culture, nor do I care to. A red crescent may have an altogether different meaning to them. Is it now time to do the laundry? Feed the livestock three bushels of wheat blessed by the water from the Dead Sea? No doubt many red crescents had come and gone before the invention of ball bearings and these illiterate extremists would have no ball bearings if they were not imported from China.

I have succeed thus far in avoiding news about the election. Ignorance IS bliss. I have no doubt that the certified results will take up to a week and I can wait that long to find out what bastards will be accepting bribes and selling out the American public. I still wish a reset option had been built into the Constitution. If a majority of voters select this option, a new election is held in six months. Every elected seat at the Federal level is up for grabs and most importantly, incumbents and anyone that previously held the post is forbidden to be elected. That is change. Open all hatches, flood the bilge bay and pull the plugs. Scuttle this government and lay down a new hull.

Bide your time. Be careful about your moves. None of the innocent are safe under this killing moon. Welcome to the next Four Years. They’re still number one and we’re not even number two. Just ask Ed.