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Feh. Memes. And the people who tag you with them.

But, as Ry notes - they die with me, I don't pass 'em on. But, it's Saturday, the only people here are googlers-for-gun-pr0n and the regulars, who might find some of this interesting.

Cassie tagged me, Bill, and SWWBO. Ry, loyal as he is, tried to deflect it for me, but was unsuccessful. The Doomsayer is persistent.

So, here's the rulez:

The rules are
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog. [Okay]
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird. [Heh, don't hold your breathe about how weird I'm gonna get.]
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs. [Nope. Ain't doing it.]
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. [See #3]
5. Present an image of martial discord from whatever period or situation you’d like. [Okay - though I admit I don't get this one, in context.]

I, like many of the others who have suffered through this, also misread the initial requirement of martial discord as marital - so this is probably some college student's bad psych project...

Seven facts.

1. Not counting deployments, etc, I've lived in 22 places over the years. While this does include multiple times in the same area, like Fort Sill, there's always more than a year between those times, and with one exception, a different street address.

2. I've visited every continent except Australia and Antarctica. 99% of the time it was not to meet interesting people and kill them, as the old snark goes (only on weekends, if you're a Reservist).

3. I'm one of the few bloggers who've been invited to spend an hour with the President in the White House as a result of my blogging.

4. Heh. I've met Michelle Malkin, gotten hugs and chatted, and can't score a link. I've never met Glenn Reynolds, but I've gotten 5 Instalanches in the last two months... of course, I'm still not blogrolled by Glenn... or Malkin for that matter. But I have done Hugh Hewitt's radio show, which is always fun. Hmmm. The key seems to be - stay away from them, interact remotely, and don't let 'em get close enough to smell you... 8^ )

5. I'd like to find a way to make this writing about stuff I really like to write about turn into a paying gig - but the writing I do that I *do* get paid for pays a lot better than anyone wants to pay for what I do on the blog... which, in truth, is a good measure of the value of the blog... sigh. Because the writing I do for a living is... boring. Important, but really boring.

6. When I retired, I was allowed to keep my kevlar helmet and gas mask, because they were custom-made to fit this huge pumpkin on my shoulders. My football helmets were custom-made, too. That's one way you know you're a decent ballplayer - they're willing to spend the money on a custom helmet. Well, except for my first helmet. When I played youth football in Germany, the AYA (American Youth Activities) didn't have a helmet that would fit. So my Dad got ahold of the people who were storing the football equipment for the 3rd Armored Division football team (Divisional competitive sports had recently been discontinued) and got a helmet from them. It was an older-style helmet, but we marked it to match the graphics of my team (Go Eagles!) and thus was a nickname bestowed. No. You don't get to know.

7. I won my first competitive shooting trophy when I was 14, shooting a Colt Combat Masterpiece while I was attending the Missouri Cadet Patrol Academy. That was an American Legion thing conducted ICW the Missouri Highway Patrol at the Patrol's academy in Jefferson City. I had never pulled a trigger prior to that. A man approached my Dad at the graduation/awards ceremony (Dad was in his Colonel-suit) and congratulated him on how well he had trained me. This guy fully expected his son, who finished 2nd, 10 points behind me, to win. Dad looked at him and said, "I didn't teach him anything. This is the first time he's ever shot anything as far as I know. He doesn't even have a BB gun." Heh.

On to a picture of martial/marital discord. I give you both. The Secretary of Defense filing for divorce from the Secretary and Chief of Staff of the Air Force...

Air Force Secretary Michael W. Wynne, left, and Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. T. Michael Moseley resigned Thursday following a series of high-profile scandals and disagreements between Air Force leadership and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates

Air Force Secretary Michael W. Wynne, left, and Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. T. Michael Moseley resigned Thursday following a series of high-profile scandals and disagreements between Air Force leadership and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates.


Interesting choice over what to post as "marital discord." Never miss an opportunity, eh, John? Feh yourself.
I half-wondered if you'd get... annoyed with me over that. It's a fair observation, fits the meme in multiple ways, and I see it as a chance for the Air Force to take stock and re-evaluate - you have to admit, there've been some real problems of late. I can't tell you how hopping mad pissed I was this week when I read of the extent of the AF problem with nukes the last couple of years - because I know people whose military careers effectively ended because a soldier passed a tool *over* a weapon, and not under it, during an eval. If may be painful, but getting jerk through a keyhole may be the best thing to happen to the AF in some time. And you know I'll slap the Army around when I think it's needful, so it's not like I'm playing favorites, Dusty.
"thus was a nickname bestowed." Begins to stand up, hand waving wildly like a 5 year old boy freebasing pixie sticks... Receives withering glare from armorer.. Sits meekly back down and slumps in his chair... *mumbles*..... 'well, the helmet made a decent motorcycle helmet too, now if it only covered his butt.....'
Ah, prudence, thy name is Kevin...

Huh. I always wondered how that particular appelation originated...


 Ry, loyal as he is, tried to deflect it for me, but was unsuccessful.

(clicks heels and salutes in the British, palm out manner)


(moves over to the cheeto bowl) 


ry -- next time, throw something pink and frilly at her.

Same effect as a muscle-mag on WereKitty...


next time, throw something pink and frilly at her.

You offering to help out in the *obtaining* of something pink and frilly? 

RBBH doesn't do pink, doesn't do frilly, and if she did she'd thwock me with the 14" cast iron skillet for using it as chaff.  Couldn't you go ask some of the Brtis who arrived in your neck of the woods for something? 


ry. It's not *real*. It's only *electrons*. You can hurl pink chiffon chemises at her all day long and no actual pink chiffon chemises will get a single wrinkle because it's *not real*!!!

Now be a good chap and get us a couple of RiverHorse Dark Ales out of the 40-cubic foot Frigidaire in the tool shed.