Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Results

I posted the text of the email that I sent to the Principal of my daughter's school the other day, so I thought I would tell you about the results.

The Principal returned my email a few hours later and said that she was aware of the issue, and would address it immediately.

Yesterday, there were additional staff members in the parking lot in the morning... and people that were attempting to drop their children off in the wrong places or at the wrong time were given written warnings.

The rule-abiding parents were quite pleased at pick up time uesterday!

Victory!

Soccer Bit..., er, Mom

My daughter's soccer team, about which I have posted many times, had their third game of the fall season this past saturday. Good news: They won, 7-6! (Go Butterflies!!!)

All of the girls played hard & well, used strategy (a new thing for them), played fair, were uncomplaining, and most importantly, they all seemed to have a good time.

At the end of the game, there were smiles and high-fives all around... or so I thought. While I was talking to one of the girls, her mother approached the coach (I'm the assistant coach) to complain that her daughter only played three minutes in the first half of the game, and that she didn't like the way substitutions were made (I make the substitutions), and that some girls got more time on field than others, and blah blah blah.

I didn't know about this until after the conversation was over. The coach mentioned it to me and told me that she didn't want to include me in the conversation because she knew I would have had a lot of fairly sharp things to say. She was right.

First things first. This poor child has got some serious developmental problems as a result of having fetal alcohol syndrome as an infant, having severe ADHD, and parents that won't/can't control their children (she has four siblings, all with similar problems). I mention this, because this child is a good kid, but because of her issues, she absorbs about 60 percent of my time during practice... when her mother can bother to bring her (which is only about half the time).

Her mother, when she comes to practice, uses the time to either nap in a lawn chair or natter on with the other moms. This mom/child frequently miss practice.

This child frequently refuses to run. I understand her issues, but in fairness to the other players, soccer requires a certain amount of wind. You can't play soccer if you can't run up and down the field.

I played that kid for 5 minutes in the first half and for 14 in the second. She had 19 minutes out of 48, in those 19 minutes, she did as well as she could be expected to do.

The other girls were plated for what their best levels were... my own kid, for example, got 22 minutes of playing time. She has great wind, but really doesn't like the physical confrontation of soccer, she can score goals, but only sometimes. Another kid, we'll call Karen, is a real gazelle, she can run, dribble, and shoot. She had three goals this week. She got 30 minutes.

My point here is that all of the girls get to play, from the one that is really good all the way to the ones that really suck (out of 8 girls, only 5 of them really have much of a clue). I play them according to their skills, abilities, and whether or not the came to practice the week of the game. Why should the kids that make a commitment suffer?

It was a great morning of soccer, ruined.

I was really bothered the rest of the day, because xxxxxxx played so well. She really did.

I decided that I would speak to the mom about it, but when we had practice last night, I found that I couldn't. I was still too irritated. Probably best to let it go... unless it happens again.

Movie Review: Armageddon

I watched the movie "Armageddon" few nights ago… it wasn’t the first time I had seen it. Indeed, if you have HBO or any of the other movie channels, it is tough to not be able to find it playing on any given night of the week.

Have any of you seen this movie? It is an action adventure movie that masquerades as a chick flick/love story… or maybe it is the other way around.

The premise is that an asteroid is hurtling through space towards earth, and it is so large the just throwing nuclear weapons at it to destroy it won’t work. The only thing that will save the planet is to blow it up from the inside. Still with me? This is classic end-of-the-world disaster stuff!

Enter Harry Stamper, played by Bruce Willis, and his misfit crew of hard living, hard drinking, socially deviant, roughneck oil drillers. Harry and his crew are selected to go into space, get fuel for their space shuttles at the Russian Space Station, land on the asteroid, drill down to 800 feet, plant an atomic weapon there, fly away from the asteroid, and remotely detonate the bomb. Earth is saved.

Now, get this, while refueling their space ships, there is a fire in the Russian space station. No one is killed, but the American crews have to take the Russian cosmonaut with them. The Russian cosmonaut is played by Peter Stomaresa, Swedish actor that some of you might remember from those very funny (at least to me) VW Jetta commercials that you see from time to time.

Well, to make a long story short, the whole thing is a success, but about half of the people that went into space to accomplish the mission are killed before the asteroid is gloriously destroyed by Harry, who has to detonate the nuke manually.

Now, I realize that this movie is kinda hokey… indeed it is designed to satisfy a man’s enjoyment of the 'blow-shit-up, male-bonding" movie genre. It has space ships, guns, explosions, strippers, nuclear weapons, Paris being destroyed by a meteor strike, strippers, and Liv Tyler showing a little skin. What’s not to like? There is even a scene where a n’er do well Dad (who is now a hero) is reunited with his estranged son (if you need something to get teary-eyed over). And strippers.

Oh, did I mention that the movie closes with Aerosmith singing “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing”?

Good fun.

Armageddon

I watched the movie “Armageddon few nights ago… it wasn’t the first time I had seen it. Indeed, if you have HBO or any of the other movie channels, it is tough to not be able to find it playing on any given night of the week.

Have any of you seen this movie? It is an action adventure movie that masquerades as a chick flick/love story… or maybe it is the other way around.

The premise is that an asteroid is hurtling through space towards earth, and it is so large the just throwing nuclear weapons at it to destroy it won’t work. The only thing that will save the planet is to blow it up from the inside. Still with me? This is classic end-of-the-world disaster stuff!

Enter Harry Stamper, played by Bruce Willis, and his misfit crew of hard living, hard drinking, social deviant, roughneck oil drillers. Harry and his crew are selected to go into space, get fuel for their space shuttles at the Russian Space Station, land on the asteroid, drill down to 800 feet, plant an atomic weapon there, fly away from the asteroid, and remotely detonate the bomb. Earth is saved.

Now, get this, while refueling their space ships, there is a fire in the Russian space station. No one is killed, but the American crews have to take the Russian cosmonaut with them. The Russian cosmonaut is played by Peter Stomares, a Swedish actor that some of you might remember from those very funny (at least to me) VW Jetta commercials that you see from time to time.

Well, to make a long story short, the whole thing is a success, but about half of the people that went into space to accomplish the mission are killed before the asteroid is gloriously destroyed by Harry, who has to detonate the nuke manually.

Now, I realize that this movie is kinda hokey… indeed it is designed to satisfy a man’s enjoyment of the “blow-shit-up, male-bonding” movie genre. It has space ships, guns, explosions, strippers, nuclear weapons, Paris being destroyed by a meteor strike, strippers, and Liv Tyler showing a little skin. What’s not to like? There is even a scene where a n’er do well Dad (who is now a hero) reunited with his son, if you need something to get teary-eyed over. And strippers.

Oh, did I mention that the movie closes with Aerosmith singing “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing”?

Good fun.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you about the Soccer mom that pissed me off this weekend.

Follow-up To Yesterday's rant

I sent the following email to the Principal of my daughter's school this mornig:

"Dear Ms. xxxxxxxx,

I have a few comments on what I see as a mounting problem with the morning drop-off for the students at xxxxx, but before I talk about that, I'd like to offer some praise:

My wife and I are quite pleased about xxxxxx'x experience at xxxxxx, not only so far this year, but last year as well. Having been able to interact with Mrs xxxxxxxxx as well as Ms. xxxxxxxx was a fruitful experience for xxxxxx as a student and for us as parents.

About the morning drop-off problem. It is increasingly clear that a great many parents are totally ignoring the policy on dropping off their children before the school-bell rings. Worse, many of the parents seem to be too impatient to wait in the drop-off line, and instead, drop their kids in the parking lot, causing them to have to move through the traffic to get to the school, which is very unsafe.

Is there anything that can be done to address this?

I know that you are a busy woman, supervising the education of our children, so I appreciate your attention in this matter."

Regards,

There. I was rational, calm, I wasn't shrill, and I didn't have to shoot anyone.

A Rant

Wednesday is the one day a week that I take my little one to school. It is always sort of fun and special for us, because it is only a once a week thing. This morning, I was up at about 0445 (slept in!) and read the paper, ironed my trousers, showered & shaved etc... before waking Olivia at 0715.

I made her breakfast, went over her homework with her, and watched a few minutes of "Brandy & Mr Whiskers" with her, before she put on her uniform. At 0840, we headed for school.

The drive to school was short, only about 6 or 7 minutes, as the school is fairly close to the house. The weather was bright and still shirt-sleeve warm, the sky was blue and the traffic was light. A nice start to our day.

Then we got to school.

At my daughter's school, there is a requirement that parents must either park their cars and walk their children to the front door of the school, waiting there with them until the opening bell rings, OR, queueing up in the "drop off" line, wherein you must drive your child into the "drop off" circle (after the bell rings) and then you can drive away. The bus riders are dropped off at a different door.

The reason for these rules are so that the kiddies don't get run over by any of the minivan moms who are too friggin' busy talking on their cel phones to look out for anyone ELSE'S children as they cross the street or parking lot. When it works it makes quite a bit of sense.

**PLEASE NOTE** Friends, your pal the Gunfighter is a veteran of eight years of service in the Marines, and has been a lawman ever since (nearly twenty years ago). I admit that I am a stickler for rules and for order. Probably more than I should be. Take that into consideration as you read on.

Today, as on so many other Wednesdays, there was nearly a platoon's worth of kids either standing in front of the school (unaccompanied) 10 minutes before the bell! (**NOTE** A platoon is a military term for a unit of approximately 44 Marines or soldiers)

Worse, I saw at least 10 moms/dads drive into the parking lot drop their kids off and then drive away, leaving their kids to have to dodge the aforementioned minivans. I saw one lady make a nod towards the rules by getting out of her SUV and walking approximately ten feet with her kid and then getting back into her car and driving away... and I know this one, her daughter is one of my soccer players (and a real pain in the ass!).

Now, remember, as soon as the bell rings, the people that followed the rules are dropping off their kids in the circle, then driving away... through the parking lot... the parking lot that is now teeming with children dropped of by their parent so they wouldn't have to wait an extra 3 minutes in the drop-off line!

This situation thoroughly pisses me off every Wednesday.

WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE JUST WAIT!?!

Is that too much to ask?

Look, I know people are in a hurry. I know people have to go to work. I know... I know... I know..., but will 3 minutes REALLY make that much of a difference?

Jeez!

Balance, Karma, Serendipity... Whatever!

After my rather dismal post yesterday, I had an interesting experience.

I had to leave the class that I was teaching in the hands of some of my staff because I had to attend a brief meeting at our Washington, DC office. A bit of a pain to make the drive, but no worries, it won't kill me.

It took me about 10 minutes to get there from where I work in Alexandria, Va. The meeting lasted about 15 minutes so I lost no real time and was out the door like a shot when the meeting concluded (I hate meetings).

I was headed back to my office when I saw a blue Honda Odyssey minivan with it's emergency lights flashing, sitting right at the top of the South Capitol street on-ramp to I-395. If you don't know DC traffic, let me tell you that this is a BAD place to break down. So, I turned on my blue/red light bar, and pulled up in front of this van and found that the lady (two of them, actually) had a flat right rear tire. She explained that she had already called Triple A but they said that it might take as long as two hours for them to get there.

Well, the long and the short of it is this: I wasn't prepared to just drive off with a "Good Luck!" and a wave, so I changed the tire myself. Not that big of a deal, but it made me feel good to help someone.

So there you have it... sometimes when things really look like sh... er, crap, you can find something good in it that will make it better for you.

Now that I have given you the feel-good story for today, let me say that the jack that comes with the Honda Odyssey is an absolute piece of crap! Why can't they install a decent sized jack these days? I spent most of the time it took to change that tire, turning that little bar that passed for a crowbar, just to get the bloody tire of the ground so I could change it! Maybe I should go to the designer's house and ply my skills there!

Feel better?

I do.

GF

Not Much Joy These Days

I used to really love my job. I still try to tell myself that I do... but I don't. Not really. Not anymore.

You see, I teach people how to kill other people... and I don't like it anymore.

In my career field, there are certainly thousands upon thousands of people that would literally kill to do what I do (and get paid well to do it). After all, I wear comfortable clothes to work. I have interesting and expensive guns to use; I have all the ammunition that I could possibly hope to shoot; I can shoot practically as much as I want.... and get paid for it. What more could a gun geek want?

Sure, I do this for Uncle Sam... that's supposed to make it better. It doesn't. I am supposed to feel good about it because if my students apply violence properly it may save their lives or the lives of innocents. I tell myself that the people that would get shot as a result of my teaching would be "bad guys". That helps... but only so much.

I'm getting tired of this.

I'd like to do something else. but I have a problem. I am 42 and all I really know how to do (that I can make a living at) is shoot. No kidding, you really CAN make a living like that. I'm what my Drill Instructors in the Marine Corps called a "natural shooter"... put a gun in my hand and I can make it work rapidly, efficiently, and accurately. It doesn't matter if it is a pistol, rifle, shotgun or heavy machine gun. It's kind of weird.

So today, I am going to teach a group of 20 Agents, Officers, and Deputies, how to most efficiently shoot people at close range.

My heart isn't in it anymore.

The hell of it that I am really good at what I do. No... I mean really good at it.

I guess a therapist would nod sagely at all of this and tell me that I am "conflicted" and that I need to "seek other employment options". S/he would be right, but that wouldn't mean a damned thing when the mortgage was due.

Anybody out there want to hire a nice guy to do odd jobs?

I promise to leave my gun at home.

My Lesbian Friends

This whole blogging thing is kind of wierd.

I started doing this as just a way of expressing myself from time to time, and to have a place to write.

Oddly enough, I started reading the blogs of other people, mostly at random, but from time to time I would use the "Blogs of Note" function from Google's blogger website. This is here the story begins.

A few months ago, in an adventurous mood, I saw an interesting blog name at the "Blogs of Note" place. The name of the blog was "Suburban Lesbian", I thought that might be interesting, so I visited this blog and discovered a very nice lady who wrote about her life and her life with her equally nice-sounding partner.

I started to read her blog regularly, and commenting on her entries. She started to visit my fledgling blog and was a great deal of help to me when I got started since I have NO clue when it came to even the most rudimentary aspects of coding. By the way... if I never said thank you, Suzanne, let me do so publicly here.

After I started reading her blog, I started reading her partner's blog, as well as the blogs of some fo their friends. Next thing you know, most of the people that are reading my blog are lesbians, and most of the blogs I read are those of lesbians.

How funny is that?

I wrote an entry about internet friends a while back. In it, I listed my many internet friends that I have known through various online communities. If I were writing that post today, I would have to add several very nice ladies to the list that I have met through the accident of a very random act.

So, a big thank you goes to Suzanne, Wendy, Deb, Sassy, eb, Zanne, and several others who never said: "What are YOU doing here, straight dude?". Thanks for letting me view your community and hear your stories. Most importantly, thanks for making me feel welcome.

What a nice bunch of people.

Books

This is your fault, eb. You sent me to one word and to Robin's site. This is the result. Meme away!

1. A book that changed your life:

There are many, but two stand out: A Sense of Honor by James Webb (current Senatorial candidate from Virginia), and Robert A. Heinlein's Starship Troopers. Both of these books were instumental in my decision to enlist in the Marines when I was a wee (well, not so wee) lad of seventeen.

2. A book you've read more than once:

More than I care to count: Most recently it was Patrick O'Brian's Post Captain.

3. A book you'd want on a desert island.

Like others, I immediately thought of the Bible... but to tell you the truth, I think it might be my Britannica Encyclopedia of Military History.

4. A book that made you giddy.

I'm not the giddy type.

5. A book you wish had been written.

The novel that Patrick O'Brian had been writing at the time of his death.

6. A book that wracked you with sobs:

I don't remember the name of the book, but I read it when I was a young Marine... it was a collection of last letters home from soldiers that had been killed in Vietnam.

7. A book you wish had never been written.

Michael Chrichton's Sphere. What an incredible piece of absolute CRAP! It is the only book that I have ever thrown in the trash. I believe that most books have something good to impart so I give them away, donate them to charity, send to the USO or SOMETHING... but when I finished with Sphere, I tore the whole bloody book to pieces ant threw it in the trash.

8. A book you are currently reading.

Coyote Rising, by Allen Steele. A neat little Sci-Fi read, the second in a series.

9. A book you've been meaning to read.

The recent biography of Madison, for a start.

10. Tag 10.

OK, I don't really do this tagging thing, but if you are inclined to list your books and thoughts, please do so, and be so kind as to tell me if you did.

Cheers,

Gunfighter