Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

The New York Yankees - World Champions

I don't suppose there is anything else to say.

Well, I could say:  "Welcome back to Yankee nation!", but that might seem like gloating.

I suppose I could also say, with all respects to "The Scooter":  Holy Cow! 

What would really be rude would be if I said "suckit" Sox fans!   So I won't, but I'd like to! 

Congratulations, Yankees!  You have made this boy from northern New Jersey who grew up on Yankee baseball, very happy.

Transported By Music

Music is an important part of my life.   It's probably important to you, too.

In my world, music is important to me on so many levels, it's hard for me to describe.  On one level, I enjoy music just to hear sounds that are pleasing to my ears, and on the level music holds an equal place with laughter, bells, and the sound of automatic weapons (the sound of machine guns make me smile, again, don't judge). 

On another level, music moves me emotionally, whether the music is inspirational in my faith, or it is a sad ballad, or a song about the joys of love, music has the ability to make me feel things that don't generally come out of the white noise in my head. 

On still another level, music can sometimes be something that is neither spiritual, emotional, or just pleasing to the ears.  Sometimes music just makes me want to move my body... whether it is just tapping my foot, dancing, or headbanging with an intensity that would make Angus Young proud.  I don't want to talk about any of those things today.

No. 

 

I want to talk about being transported by music.  Transported to a time and place in your life that is significant to a particular song.  I have many of them, as you probably do.  One of my "transportational" songs is the old Motown classic "Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing" by Marvin Gaye & Tammy Terrell.  Some of you may remember the song... it is one of the quintessential songs of the Motownera.  For me, the song reminds me of the time immediately prior to my parent's divorce.  Released in 1968, when I was only 5, the song always brings me to riding in the back of our station wagon, when my dad was stations at Hamilton Air Force Base, California.

 

I am chronologically certain my parent's marriage was already in the toilet at that point, but I was a little boy... and the song always reminds me that we were an intact family in those days.  It makes me happy and sad at the same time.   It makes me happy because of the warm feeling of togetherness, however illusory... and it makes me sad because it's is the only "happy family" feeling I have of my childhood, and it is intensely fleeting.  When people say that divorce doesn't have long-term effects, tell them to come and talk to me, I'll call bullshit right to their faces.

 

Another song that transports me to a particular time and place is the song "Magic To Do" from the Broadway play "Pippin".  I have this song on my ipod, on my "Movie Music" play-list, and while I was on my way to work this morning, driving through the hated Springfield Interchange, I listened to it and enjoyed the fact that it took me back to 1977, when I went, with my Junior High School music class, to see the play in New York city.  I don't remember much of the play... to tell you the truth, beyond two songs, I don't remember any of it, other than the fact that Ben Vereen was in the cast when we went.

The songs that I mentioned aren't the only ones that take me places, but they stood out the other day when I decided to blog about this... I'll bet you have songs like this.

 

What are they?, and where do they take you?

Dear President Obama

Dear President Obama,

 

This isn’t the first time I have written to a sitting President via my blog, and I suspect that it won’t be the last, but since it is my first time writing to you, I think that I should tell you a few things.

 

First, I would like to tell you that not quite a year into your tenure, I think that you are doing a good job leading the country at a very precarious time, considering the financial crisis, which seems to be in the early stages of recovery.  I also think that you deserve the Nobel Peace Prize that you have been awarded if for no other reason than the fact that you have toned down the bellicose rhetoric that has come from the White House since you became President.  Frankly, I think that the world can’t afford a rogue elephant in the White House, and your elevation to the Presidency has certainly eliminated a rogue from the world stage.

 

The main reason that I am writing to you today, Mr. President is to urge you to not send an additional 40,000 American soldiers and Marines to Afghanistan.  My reasoning is as follows:  Islamic radicals in Pakistan are the author of our troubles in Afghanistan.  The Pakistani government is either unable or unwilling to control them, despite the billions of dollars that we annually spend to assist them militarily.  The sad truth is that the Pakistani police, armed forces, and intelligence services are rife with fundamentalist radicals, or their sympathizers.  This situation makes any efforts in Afghanistan, beyond humanitarian help, a complete waste of resources.

 

We cannot democratize Afghanistan, sir.  We cannot even assist in the democratization of  ANY nation without a thriving, educated, middle class or one with such societal divisions as Afghanistan has.  Since we cannot democratize Afghanistan, the best we can hope to do is to pacify that nation… pacification is the BEST we can hope for, and frankly, sir, pacification is something that A) won’t happen even with an addition 40,000 troops, and B) won’t happen without conducting a war in Pakistan, which I am certain that we won’t/shouldn’t do.

 

Where does this leave us?  Well, from where I sit (currently about 10 miles from the White House), it leaves us in an exceptionally bad place on nearly every level.

 

 Militarily, we will continue to waste the lives of our Soldiers and Marines.  Further, continued combat usage of our equipment will have far reaching consequences, considering that nearly every rifle, machine gun, tank, helicopter, and truck that we use in that country (as well as Iraq) will have to either be completely replaced or have depot-level maintenance to remain in service.  

 

Economically, we can’t keep this up forever.  Wars must be paid for sir… you don’t need ME to tell you that.  Additionally, the current strains on our Veterans care apparatus are staggering, and have generational ramifications. 

 

Lastly, Mr. President, there are other, more important threats that the threats posed by the Taliban/Al Qaeda.  Damage that can be done to our nation by terrorists is minimal as long as we are vigilant, but trying to use conventional military force to fight small terror cells is like trying to swat a butterfly with an ax… we’ll cause lot’s of damage, and at the end of the day, the butterfly will continue on it’s way.

 

I know that you were handed a mess when you came into power Mr. President, but it’s your show, now.  You have to be the adult and say when enough is enough, just like I do with my children.  Fortunately, I can sit here and advise you without the myriad other things that you have going on, hanging over my head, and I am sure that there are a great many things going on that demand your time and attention, but I have confidence in you, Mr. President… you are a good man, and I am counting on you to do what’s right.  We need to make an exit from Afghanistan.  We need to do it right now.

 

Respectfully,

 

Gunfighter

Fatherhood Friday: The Perfect Day (Gunfighter Style)

Today is Fatherhood Friday, my friends, and as a dad, I want to talk a little bit about a few things that make me happy.  Today's post may not seem like it has much to do with being a dad, but bear with me and I think that you will see that it all comes together.  When you are done reading this, go over to the Dad Blogs, and read what my brother fathers (and sister mothers) are talking about!

When we go on our annual pilgrimages to Disney World, we often go see a show that features some of the characters from Winnie The Pooh.  The story behind this once-amusing show isn't important, but at one point during the show, Winnie and his friends are asked to describe the perfect day.  While I am certain that the answer to that question will as different as can be for anyone who is asked, but I have to tell you that right now, I am having the perfect Gunfighter morning.

I left home a little late this morning, and got to watch a show that I recorded on the DVR last night, which means I can fall asleep while watching something else tonight.  Anyway, since I left the house late, I was able to watch the sun rise as I went tooling up I-95, through Lorton... today's sunrise was particularly nice.  The traffic was light, today probably owing to the horrendous outpouring of vehicles yesterday, so I made great time, even though it was later than I normally drive, which would usually result in heavier traffic.  While I drove, I listened to the music I downloaded from iTunes last night... Sly & The Family Stone, The Isely Brothers, Mariah Carey (yes, I know that Mimi is crazy, but she can sing!), and Christina Aguilera.

When I arrived at work, I went straight to the range and qualified with my pistol (the new training quarter started last week)... will you be shocked to hear that I shot a score of 250 out of a possible 250?  I had to do some target maintenance this morning, and when I finished, I had an email rom a pal in a different agency, wondering if I was free for lunch, and I am!

Getting that out of the way, I shuffled some paperwork off of my desk (administration is a pain in the ass, but it's gotta get done), and then opened a box that had my name written on it, that was on my desk when I sat down (it wasn't there when I first arrived at work).  Opening the box, I discovered that I had been gifted with six new magazines for my M-4 rifle! (yes, new fighting gear makes me happy.  Don't judge me).

As you can see, things are going exceptionally well for me, today, and it's only 10:30!

You know what's better than ALLof that, though?  The fact that I am going to have a completely un-programmed weekend to spend with my family.  That's right, folks... NO SOCCER THIS WEEKEND!, on top of THATis the fact that Monday is a holiday for us government weenies, but soccergirl still has school, so Mrs. Gunfighter and I will have nearly 6 hours to ourselves.

Beat that!

NOTE:  As I proof-read this little missive, I loaded all of my new magazines with factory fresh 5.56x45mm ammunition, and listened to the theme from "Shaft".  Life is goood!

Good Friday (or Gunfighter's Week From Hell)

Most Fridays are good.

 

Some Fridays are better than others.

 

Last Friday was better than just about any Friday in recent memory.

 

The reason that Friday was so special is that I finally saw light at the end of my "firearms-instructor-week-from-hell" tunnel.  Seriously... you know I love my job, but this week has just been too much.  For the past two weeks, we have been conducting a post-academy class for 21 agents and officers.  During this class, each agent has to, among other things, qualify with their service weapons, which isn't a terribly onerous task, since everyone will have qualified at least once before getting to this stage in their training.

 

What happens here is that on the third and fourth training day, all of the trainees get a four hour block of instruction before being required to qualify on day 5.  On day 5, they have to fire a prescribed course of fire, at distances of 1.5, 3, 7, 15, & 25 yards.  Each sequence of the course of fire is timed.  The course consists of a total of 50 rounds fired and has a maximum potential score of 250 points, with 200 points (80%) being the minimum score for qualification. 

 

During the first week of training... just before qualification day, we knew that two shooters might not qualify with their weapons, which is about par for the course in a class that size.  Our expectations were met.  The two that we expected to fail, did exactly that.  One of them not only failed, but failed spectacularly, falling 75 points short of qualifying.  While disturbing, all was not lost because your friend and faithful correspondent, Gunfighter, was assigned to conduct their remedial training.  This is a good thing for poor shooters... do you know why?  Because your pal Gunfighter can teach like a MOFO!

 

So Last Monday (which should have been a day off for me), at 0600 (6 A.M. if you don't habla), I started their training... as you might surmise, I wasn't terribly easy on them.  You see, I have a training philosophy that says that gunfighting isn't for the soft, the weak, or the faint of heart.  I am not in the business of career training.  I teach warriors how to fight.  How to kill.  If you aren't able to steel your heart to that task, you should admit it to yourself, and find a different life path. 

 

So.  We trained.  They listened, they learned, they did the things that I asked them to do, and they dug deep.  Our first session was encouraging, and they went on with the rest of the training day, buoyed by their progress.

 

What really sucked for me, was the fact that on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I had to go straight from training them, to conducting regularly quarterly qualification for regular, journeyman-level, officers and agents who are in normal service.  This consists of teaching a class, giving a safety briefing, and giving a lecture on the quarterly advanced training exercise that we do after qualification.  We do this three days a week, at 0800 and 1300.  Anyway, my section was really short-handed for those two weeks with men at training, one on vacation, and one out sick.  It wasn't pretty.  It was a long and dangerous week, one that I was pleased to be closing in on the end of.

 

On Thursday, the last day of remedial training, we did a practice round on the qualification course of fire, and both of my shooters fired qualifying scores!  I wanted to hug them both, but I remained my calm, cool, aloof, self and told them to look forward to qualification the next day, and sent them on their way. 

 

Friday... a dark morning.  When my shooters arrived at the range, their ammunition was ready, their targets were set up, and we immediately got them briefed before beginning the next 45 minutes that would determine the course of their careers.  I would like to brag, at this point, about how great an instructor that I am, and tell you that both of my shooters were able to qualify, but I can't.  After two consecutive attempts to qualify, one of my shooters failed to come within 24 points of qualification.  She had failed, and I am the one that had to tell her that she wasn't going to make it.  There were excuses, displays of really bad attitude, and all of that stuff, but the bottom line is that ultimately, she isn't suited to the work, and has to go. 

 

I wish her success elsewhere.

 

Oh, did you think that I was done?  Oh heck no.

 

I had to teach my regular remedial shooters as soon as I was done... and when I was done with them, I had to take my turn as the receptionist for the training center because our receptionist was reassigned before we hired another, and then there was an ammunition delivery.

 

By Friday afternoon, I was well and truly beat.  Beat, I say!

 

It was an ugly, but productive week... and I am REALLY glad that it is over!

The Gunfighter Returns (with a cool vacation Pic)

Hi kids!

Didja miss me?  Of course you didn't, because I have been where I've always been... right there on that screen in front of you.

Vacation has come to an end.  We returned home on Sunday evening after a 12 hour drive which took us from Disnew World to northern Virginia in 12 hours.

Do you know what was really great?  I'll tell you:  It was walking through the front door of our house.  Vacations are great.  It's wonderful to get away... but nothing beats coming back to the place you love and call home.

I have lots of stories to tell you about our trip, and I will be posting about it in the near future, but I would like to take a moment now, to thank those fine folks who were good enough to send me some guest-post material to fill some of my busier days right at the start of our trip.

Many thanks to Heather & Mick for starting a lively conversation about children in church.  I know that it can be a sensitive subject for many people, but for me, it comes down to this:  Better to have an active, sometimes squirmy, chid IN church, than to have the same child be as active and squirmy OUTSIDE of the church.  Church is supposed to be a place of worship and welcome.  If it isn't welcoming of children, close the doors, burn the building, sell the land... because the church will then be nothing but a quasi-pious social club... and the world already has enough of them.  'Nuff said.

Thanks also to Lisa, who, once again gave us a baking lesson, and a great recipe to try.  Lisa always has interesting things to say... sometimes about food, sometimes about other things... but she is never dull.  Go visit her!

Thanks to the Queen of The Mayhem for giving us her perspective on being a Christian woman who teaches in the public school system.  I love hearing any and all stories told by those dedicated, underappreciated people with whom we entrust the early education of our children.

Lastly, but not at all in the least, thanks to Jana & Korie for sharing personal stories about love and friendship.

All of you have my thanks.

Now... back to our show, already in progress.

Can I tell you how unwelcome the alarm clock was at 0415?  I am rested and ready, but, man it was a long psychological leap from getting up between 0800 and 0900 every day for the past few weeks, and getting to work before the sun made it's appearance for the day. 

Not.

Fun

At.

All.

Oh, well... I'll leave off of the whining for a while.  I had a great time.  See the attached proof, below.

If that isn't the face of fun... I don't know what is.

What Is a Warrior?

You know me, right? Good ol' Gunfighter… your pal who tells that odd funny story, loves to talk about his family, good time guy who is more passionate about progressive politics than he is about Rugby.

I've blabbed to pretty much all who will listen, about my thoughts on just about everything… but today, I'm going to tell you about my core beliefs. You probably already know much of what makes me tick, but I am going to give you the whole enchilada today.

I'm a Warrior.  Battle is not only my trade, it is my profession.  I am trained to it. I am indoctrinated in it. It is why I draw breath every day.

Do you know what that means? I'll tell you what it doesn't mean… it doesn't mean that I spend my days looking for a fight. It doesn't mean that I welcome or relish violence. It doesn't mean that I am an unthinking berserker that would just as soon shoot you as talk to you. No. Not at all. I'd like to talk… and probably will ramble on a bit… but I am writing this without a script, and am unlikely to edit it. Buckle up. I'd like to talk about my own personal warrior ethos.

In my world, everyone feels safer when a warrior is around, because a warrior is honor-bound to help those that might not be able to help themselves so much. In my view, a warrior opposes injustice, whether it is physical or moral injustice, a warrior doesn't stand silent. In my view, a warrior avoids conflict, but having entered a conflict, is unswerving in achieving his goal. A warrior is kind. A warrior is tender. A warrior is God's man above all things. A warrior seeks guidance and wisdom from those around him, and will share those things with others when asked of him. A warrior is aware of his own mortality. A warrior is the friend and guardian of all children, not just his own. A warrior is unselfish. A warrior is victorious over pain, discomfort, and the elements. A warrior respects nature. A warrior despises corruption. A warrior is well-read. A warrior can never be accused of being lazy or not hard-working.

Like most warriors, I have my own role models who have shaped the warrior that I have become. Some of those models were military men. Men who fought with honor, skill and intrepidity like Audie Murphy, Salah ad-Din; "Mad" Anthony Wayne, Nathaniel Greene, George Washington, John Ripley, and the Entire 54^th Massachusetts volunteer Infantry regiment; Miyamoto Musashi; and Jean De La Valette.

Some of those warriors were fictitious, Brave Horatious, The Captain of The Gate; Lazarus Long; Richard Sharpe; Stephen Maturin; and Jack Aubrey; John Dean; William "Wild Bill" Fogarty; and Captain Ted Lenahan.

Not all of my role models were warriors or soldiers. Some of those models were scholars, people who taught me the importance of knowledge and of history, and of the joy of learning for learning's sake:  My wife, Susan; Mrs Ruth Deusinger (she was my high-school history teacher, and she was the BEST); John Murphy; Thomas Tsirikos; Ron Martino; and Joseph Caliguire.

Still other role models were members of my family: My mother's mother, a tireless servant of God, and nurturer of a troubled boy who became, to all reports, a decent man, despite the odds; my mother's father, a professional linguist and educator, from whom I inherited the gift of languages.

Many of my role models were men and women of faith: Martin Luther; Saints Cyril & Methodius; Saint Martin of Tours; Saint Martin DePorres; Martin Luther King; Saint Paul The Apostle; and of course, Jesus of Nazareth whom we call The Christ.

I strive, and fail, daily, to emulate what is good in all of these people, and others, believing that if I can, I will be the warrior that I am called to be: The defender of truth, justice, children, women, knowledge, and of the faith.

As one of those role models once said: "Here I stand, I can do no other. God help me, Amen."

A Personal Revelation

When I posted, yesterday, about my military service, I revealed something of myself, that many of my readers have never seen.  As a result, some people have com to know me better.  I think that this is a good thing.

Today, I am going to take that theme a little bit further.

I am going to tell you about a grievous sin that I am guilty of.  It’s something that I grapple with on a daily basis as temptation is thrown in my face.  I am trying to be strong, but I fear that it may already be too late.  No, I’m not talking about my well-documented love affair with Rachel Maddow… I’m talking about something a little closer to home.  I’m talking about envy.

Envy.

It’s a terrible thing, envy.  It can poison the best of your intentions.  Envy can destroy relationships, ruin trust, and be the wreck of honest and good ambition.

In this instance, the subject of my envy is all of you people out there with iphones!

That’s right. 

I want an iphone. 

There, I said it. 

You people that can email and Blog, and Facebook, and Twitter, and all sorts of things, really irritate me… not because you are bad people, mind you.  You know who you are… you have iphones and I still have tons of mad Gunfighter-love for you (and Gunfighter love is good!  I give great hugs, don’t I?), but I want one of those freakin’ phones, too.

Sure, when I got promoted, recently, my job gave me a Blackberry… and that’s cool, but it’s a secure Blackberry, which means that our network administrator, the dirty so-and-so has disabled the video camera.  We are also prohibited from using the Internet with it.  All of which I can understand, but leaves me wanting a bit more capability.

I’ve never really been an envious guy.  I enjoy my lot in life.  My wife pays attention to me… most days.  My children love me.  I am respected by my colleagues.  I don’t even care about having the latest model cars (although I wish cash for clunkers would last until I get back from vacation, I need a new car).  Am I a bad person because I want (and Mrs. Gunfighter wants) a swanky new phone(s)?

In my late night wanderings, I have found that I can buy a refurbished iphone G3 for only 79 bucks, direct from AT&T, which really beats the crap out of $299 for the new 3GS phones.  After all, I don’t really need the video thing.

So.  Help me out, folks.  Gunfighter needs an iphone.  Should I go with the refurb, or not bother?

Help a brother out!

I'm on Vacation!

I'm on vacation!... but you already knew that.

I love summer!

I love the heat!

I love the colors!

I love all of soccergirl's activities (I live vicariously through them).

I am overjoyed by the fact that my child can go to Scout camp, day camp, lots of swimming, doing fun things that she enjoys.  I also love the fact that she gets to do a lot of the things that Mrs GF and I couldn't do as children (me because we were poor, and Mrs GF because her mother is a loon).  One of the best things about summer is that because of my work schedule (which is awesome), my youngest and I get to spend lots of time together.

Anyway, I love summer... even when it is hotter than h***, as it frequently is in Virginia.

The funny thing for me is that I love the end of summer best.  Because the end of summer is vacation time.  We spent three nights on St. Simons Island, Georgia, and then we spent a day in St. Augustine, Fl. (we are history geeks, we want to see the Spanish forts), and are now in Orlando.  We have been looking forward to this all year, and are truly enjoying our togetherness.

Togetherness.  That is what this is all about.  We get to spend nearly three weeks with just the three of us.  No distractions.  No Blackberry practically melting for my attention, no unexpected late work days.  Just us.

How cool is that?

That is how I like my summer.  Every minute from the day school got out has been prologue to our summer trip, and we are loving it.  You know what else is really cool?  One of my regular readers is going to be in Orlando while we are here, and we plan to meet... so once that happens expect some good blogging as a result... unless, of course, she thinks that I am some sort of creep (which I'm not... mostly).

See you in September

While Gunfighter isn't on vacation, he can be found teaching Sunday school, coaching soccer, and teaching people better ways to shoot other people.

While he IS on vacation, you can find him perusing hisotrical sites from the Revolutionary period, or running around at Disney World wearing Mickey Mouse ears.

Thoughts On Health Care Reform

Can we talk? 

Comedienne Joan Rivers used to use that line in her stand-up act... and probably still does... I can't be sure since I haven't heard one of her routines in years.  Anyway, once upon a time, I used to think that Rivers was quite funny.  I wish I could laugh now.

We need to talk, you and I.  We need to talk, particularly if you are an American who is steadfast against the current Health Care Reform bill.  I'm not going to rant, and I am not going to use (too much) hyperbole, but I have to ask you a few questions:

What is going through your minds and the minds of your fellows, turning up at town hall meetings with guns? 

What is going on when people keep screaming about socialism? 

What is going on with your soul when you would be dead-set against a bill that will help provide health insurance to the millions of Americans that can't afford it?

How can you possibly so misinformed about the contents of this bill that you actually take people seriously when they start shrieking about "Death Panels"  I mean, really... you can't believe that, can you?  Really?

Look, I have to tell you something... you folks have been misled.  You've been hoodwinked; bamboozled; flim-flammed.  You have been heinously punk'd.

Now, I know that you'll get mad about what I am going to say, but it doesn't matter, because you people have been madder than hell because America rejected the neo-con (know-nothing) agenda by the popular election of Barack Obama.  I think that you folks have nothing to offer anyone other than anger... but, I'm going to try to help you.

Let me apprise you of a few facts: 

1)  The health care reform (HCR) bill doesn't require all Americans to have some sort of government coverage.

2)  HCR doesn't have a provision that prevents people from choosing their own doctors.

3)  HCR doesn't have a "Death Panel" provision, and isn't going to require the extermination of disabled children or the elderly.  There is nothing in it that has ANYthing to do with Rationed care.

4)  HCR isn't socialist.  If you think that it is, you should follow this link and read the definition of the word.

5)  The President isn't a Nazi... and he sure as heck isn't a Fascist.  Popular election... remember that?  As a matter of fact, his popular election was an electoral blowout.

I realize that this is all ramping up for you folks because the whole "birther" thing has been shown to be stupid, and nonsensical.  I realize that your party (the GOP) is morally bankrupt, and I am sure that it is galling for any of you with a shred of sense that your primary cheerleaders are Sarah Palin (and you actually voted for her!), Rush "The Druggie" Limbaugh, Orly Taitz, and that creepy Michell Bachmann, but you really need to see sense in this matter.

So, please... spare me the rhetoric.  Spare me the "It's not Constitutional".  Spare me the whining.  Grow up.

This country can wage war in two seperate places at once, and be involved in military operations all over the world, and most of you would never bat an eye over it, but the people that fuel the engines of capitalism that makes it possible should, at a minimum, be able to take their children to a doctor... not an emergency room, if they get sick.

Not caring about the health of the poor is not only inhumane, it's un-Christian.  To some of you, that might not mean anything, but for many of you who profess to follow Christ, you should be searching yourselves for answers.  How can you actively work to prevent medical care for the poor?  How can you?

Yes, I know that you are going to start talking about charity versus government intervention, but I wonder why you only make that complaint when the government tries to help the poor?  I'll venture an answer:  You people don't believe that the poor are worthy of your help.  Many of you actually believe that poor people are only poor because they are lazy... some of you believe that poor people actually deserve to be poor.

I wonder how many of you are going to your local members of Congress and begging them to vote against any further farm subsidies.

What's that?  Crickets?

Color me unsurprised.