We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
So far, so good. In case you haven't heard the horrific news yet, Bird Dog is on vacation until Tuesday, leaving the site in the clutches of the likes of me and Bulldog.
The modern, sophisticated mind reels at the very thought.
If you happen to see the big guy, let him know that everything's cool. I simply deleted all of those warning notices I received from the FCC yesterday, figuring by the time they get around to handing out the indictments, our valiant editor will be long back. I'm sure a quick phone call to Washington will clear everything right up.
As for today's video, I've run across a small handful of web vids over the years that really touched me inside, mainly because of the accompanying music. The collection is here.
I joined the military in 1964. I enjoyed basic training although at the time I couldn't wait to get out of it. Watching full metal Jacket and listening to the DI I loved it. I watched the beginning of that movie more then once just to hear the melodic voice of that DI calling his charges dumb shits and worse. Ahhh, that brought back memories.
A good cadence caller is sublime, near the end, when everyone really hears, whether there is sound or not.
Forgive the story, please.
Last night at PI. After evening chow, dusky dark, platoons rotating through the chow hall. We had eaten and were heading back to barracks. Up the road coming toward us was the company that had earlier won the battalion drill competition.
SSgt Manning, the head DI, said a couple of words, I don't remember them, something like 'dig in'. Then he went silent. So did his compatriot of the other platoon. So for sixty seconds we marched toward each other.
So we relied on 'boots', and pride, and who knows what the hell else.
We fucking destroyed them, holding to our cadence, steady as a rock. Heels as one. They literally fell apart in their march, seventy-five men sounding like seventy-five sheep in a slaughterhouse.
It was a momentous moment... at least for a minute. Though I guess, as I still remember it, a lifetime of knowing what a team truly is, or some damn something.