Monday, April 27, 2009

Of sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs

I wish I could take credit for this fine piece, but I can't. I saw it posted on a motorcycle forum I frequent, and it's the best thing I've read on the necessity of the 2nd Amendment and why people seek to lawfully carry weapons. It's a bit long, but it's well worth it. After reading it for the first time I was proud to be able to say, "Yep, I'm a sheepdog!" Hopefully after reading it, you'll feel the same way. So here it is.

One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another.

Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.

Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.

I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me, it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell.

Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, And someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful. For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.

"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial."

Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf."

If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf.

But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.

Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools.

But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial. The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.

Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.

The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.

Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero?

Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.

Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into warrior-hood, you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference.

There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.

There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: Slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.

Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.

Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.

"There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men."- Edmund Burke

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

U.S. Navy SEALS - 3, Somali Pirates - 0

I gotta tell ya, I am impressed! The day after my rant about the Obama administration not doing anything about the US captain being held captive by Somali pirates, three US Navy SEAL snipers literally blew the heads off of three of the pirates!

To really appreciate what these snipers did, you have to take the following into consideration: the snipers were shooting at three individual targes inside an enclosed lifeboat, and the window through which they would be placing their shots was about a foot high and three feet long. They were laying prone (on their stomachs) on the deck of a ship which was moving with the motions of the sea, shooting at a target that was inside a smaller vessel which was moving even more radically on the surface of the water since it's a much smaller vessel. They took one shot each, simultaneously, and scored three head shots! To me, this is absolutely fantastic, and these guys deserve a medal!

And I'll be the first to say "hats off" to the Obama administration for taking action on this and not sitting on their hands doing nothing ala Jimmy Carter. Good on ya!

Now the question is, what do we do with the surviving pirate who is in US custody? To me, the answer is simple: put the asshole on trial for piracy using the terms of the International Treaty of which the US is a signatory country, and put the little bastard in prison for the rest of his life.

Problem solved.

IHC

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Some random Sunday morning thoughts

Yep, it's been a while since I posted - ten days, actually. My ethernet port on my computer went tits up in the evening of the first, and it's taken Dell that long to get the part in and then schedule the technician to come do the repairs. More on the lard-ass technician later...but in the mean time, I've got about 45 minutes before I have to get ready to go to work (Yes, I'm working on Easter Sunday...such is life in the retail world) so I thought I'd throw some random thoughts out there.

So let's start with the obvious, and I'll try not to go into a full-blown rant over this: Why in the HELL hasn't the US Navy blown the living CRAP out of those Somali pirates??? You mean to tell me that out of all of the special forces the US military has, NONE of them are trained and prepared to do an at-sea hostage rescue mission? I mean, c'mon - these guys are stuck on a lifeboat that is OUT OF GAS, DRIFTING with no control, with NO FOOD, NO WATER, NO TOILET FACILITIES, and the Obama administration ISN'T capitalizing on this??? I mean, REALLY.....WTF??? (You had to know I was gonna throw The Great Pretender under the bus on this one....)

You wanna negotiate? Here's the deal: let the American captain go, and you'll live. Keep him and we'll blow your friggin' heads off. So, deal or no deal? Simple as that.

Up next, a little history lesson for you...today is April 12, 2009, and exactly 148 years ago today in Charleston, South Carolina events were set in motion that would eventually end up in the death of the American system of federal government as envisioned by our Founding Fathers, and the nightmare of James Madison and Jefferson Davis would come true. On this day in 1861 Confederate forces under the command of General P.G.T. Beauregard opened fire on the Union forces garrisoned in Fort Sumter, South Carolina, triggering the War Between The States. The next day President Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to "put down the rebellion" in the Southern states, bringing to life Jefferson and Madison's nightmare that one day a sitting President would use Federal troops to force the will of the government on an unwilling population. And four years after that, when Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia on April 9, 1865, the system of government in which individual states had more authority over their territory than the Federal government, which was the system envisioned by Madison and Jefferson, died. RIP, State's Rights; hello, Big Brother. (I would have posted something on April 9 as well, but as I said, my computer was down....)

If you want proof as to just how desperate the American auto makers are to sell cars, here it is: this past week my wife traded in her 2006 Ford Mustang for a 2009 Mustang because the '06 kept on breaking down and Ford couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. (When I say 'kept on breaking down,' I mean FIVE TIMES in a MONTH AND A HALF.) By the time the deal was done, her monthly payments went up a whopping $8.00 and we ended up financing - hold on to your hats - two grand LESS than the car's sticker price! And that includes all of the financing charges and everything! The salesman told us that the dealership actually lost $70.00 on the deal! So in the end everything worked out great - we got rid of the lemon, got a 45th Anniversary Edition Mustang, financed less than the car was stickered at, didn't suffer under higher payments, and now don't have to worry about the car breaking down once a week! Hey, it works for me!

Lastly - me and my "brutha from anutha mutha," Bulldog Chief, are headed to Myrtle Beach Bike Week next month, and we're gonna have a blast! I'm just hoping now that the weathr holds out for us and it doesn't do what it always does for Daytona Bike Week, that being rain.

And that's the story. Coffee time now, then shower and off to work. Y'all have a Happy Easter!

IHC

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Wow, is it April 1st already?

April 1st has a special meaning to the vast majority of the world in that it's the day when everyone has free reign to play as many practical jokes on as many unsuspecting victims as they can. Today is April Fool's Day, and I'm no different than the rest of the world. I played a whopper of a practical joke on my wife on this day several - SEVERAL - years ago, and for the sake of her reputation I'll keep what I did to myself!

But for me, April 1st has two other, much more significant meanings. There was an event on this day in 1998 and again in 2001 that have played a very special and important part in my life, something that will forever be entwined in my being.

On April 1, 1998 after serving 22 years, 9 months and 17 days, I retired from active duty with the United States Air Force. I joined the Air Force only a mere 11 days after I graduated from high school with the intent of serving four years and then getting out. I was going to go on the North Carolina Highway Patrol, since that's where I was living at the time I enlisted. Well, as they say, "the best laid plans of mice and men...." When it came time for me to get out in 1979, my wife (at the time) and I took a good, hard look at the economy and all of the benefits of staying in the service, and decided to stick around for another four years. Four years after that we decided to stay in for the long haul.

Being in the Air Force gave me a chance to see places, do things, and meet people that I would never have had the chance to do, and if I had the chance to do it all over again I'd jump at it. Sometimes I still sit back and ask myself, "What in the hell am I doing out here with all these civilians?" You can retire from the active service, but deep down inside you'll always be military - that's what they mean when they say it's a "way of life."

It's been eleven years to the day that I retired, and I still miss the Air Force. Every single minute of every single day.

The other event for which I remember this day took place on April 1, 2001 - that's the day that "Buster," our Boston Terrier, was born. This little dog showed me that it was okay to love a dog again, and the depths of my love for him scares me sometimes. You see, the last dog I had came to kind of a bad end - he was a Jack Russell Terrier named "Squirt," and I had to give him up because he was terrorizing my kids and tearing up my house. We'd had him for about five years, ever since he was a puppy, and it hurt like hell when I had to give him up. I cried about it for days, and it still hurts to a point to this day.

I was afraid to open myself up to a love like that again, but when my wife Gina said she wanted a Boston Terrier, I gave in. Words can't describe how much I've come to love Buster in the past eight years, and I love that little pooch more each day.

But the love comes with a price, as nearly all love does.

Bostons are notoriously suseptible to cataracts because they're so closely inbred, and Buster was no exception. He had cataracts so bad that he could only see with his peripheral vision in both eyes. We had the cataracts removed in September of 2007, and he was a dog reborn! It was so good to look into his eyes and know that he was looking back, and that he could see me! He was looking at me instead of towards me, and that was a wonderful feeling!

Anyone who has ever had a dog who has had cataract surgery knows that you have to constantly be on the alert for the development of glaucoma. The vet gave us some drops to put in Buster's eyes to help prevent glaucoma, and for 18 months they worked. His right eye was always fine, but his left eye was always a prolem. It'd get foggy every now and then, but as soon as we put another drop in it, it would clear right up.

And then, about two weeks ago, it wouldn't clear up. Took all day and several additional applications of drops, but it finally did clear up. Three days after that, Buster woke up on Sunday morning and BOTH EYES were cloudy to the point that he couldn't see. My wife and I were scared out of our minds that he had gone blind overnight, but as soon as some drops were put in his eyes, they both cleared up. We took him to the vet four days later (the doggie eye doc only comes down to this area once a week on Thursdays) and the vet told us that Buster had "limited vision, if any" in his left eye, but that his right eye was fine. He gave us some additional drops to put in his left eye to help keep the pressure from building up, so we're putting drops in Buster's eyes three times a day, every day, and ya know what? We don't mind!

Since that day, Gina and I have been fighting like mad to keep Buster's right eye clear, and we've succeeded. It hasn't been cloudy once since that Sunday, and we've even managed to keep his left eye clear as well. He just can't see out of it. "Limited vision," my ass - he can't see out of it at all. Maybe some light and shadow every now and then, but for the most part, nothing.

But as long as he has the sight in his right eye, we're good. And we're gonna fight like hell to keep that sight for as long as we can, hopefully for the rest of his life.

Which, I hope, will be for a long time yet to come.

Someone once said that there is no love purer than the love of a dog, and brother, do I believe that.

Happy Birthday, Buster! I love you, baby boy!

IHC