(no subject)

Dear Santa... Dear Santa, This year I've been busy! In February I saved a busload of nuns in Angola (326 points). In March I gave change to a homeless guy (19 points). In November I put gum in thepunkpanther's hair (-12 points). Last Sunday I signed my organ donor card (28 points). In July I stole jamesla's purse (-30 points). Overall, I've been nice (331 points). For Christmas I deserve a new bike! Sincerely, tepintzin

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And now the answer you've all been waiting for.

My unit are not, repeat NOT scheduled for Iraq in the foreseeable future. Individual soldiers have gone, but not the unit itself for whatever reason. One of my AIT comrades who is in one of the other units out of my USAR centre says it's because our company's too new.

The trick they're playing, says Sgt. Dimaandal, is that they now tell reservists, "Oh, you can go *straight* to IRR (inactive ready reserve) if you want." People go for this because they think, "I don't ever have to go to drill for 8 years? Sweet!" They are, of course, the first ones to get called up for deployment. I actually *want* to go to drill (hey, I want to go Regular Army) so that's not even a temptation anyway.

Only one drill day, and it's this coming Sunday. We're going up to Battalion in Irvine for a class A inspection. Mine are still there in their garment bag, so that's no hardship for me.

After checking in, I drove over to the Del Mar beach, which is the beach on board Camp Pendleton. I got out of the car and walked across soft, shifty sand to the waves. I waited for one to wash up to me, dipped my fingers in the Pacific, and knew I was home.

(no subject)

pdx42 was discussing his love of Kipling and how he's often demonized as racist and sexist. Perhaps. However the definition of a classic is a work that stands the test of time and which rings true through the years. Case in point, this poem, "White Man's Burden". It could have been written this morning.


Take up the White Man's burden--
Send forth the best ye breed--
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need;
To wait in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild--
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half-child.

Take up the White Man's burden--
In patience to abide,
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain
To seek another's profit,
And work another's gain.

Take up the White Man's burden--
The savage wars of peace--
Fill full the mouth of Famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hopes to nought.

Take up the White Man's burden--
No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper--
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go mark them with your living,
And mark them with your dead.

Take up the White Man's burden--
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard--
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--
"Why brought he us from bondage,
Our loved Egyptian night?"

Take up the White Man's burden--
Ye dare not stoop to less--
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloke your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your gods and you.

Take up the White Man's burden--
Have done with childish days--
The lightly proferred laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!