I work at Vons where I make a measly $7.25. That’s right, minimum wage! 8 years of service and a great work ethic gets you nothing into today’s economy. I struggle daily with this. I have found a seething discontent for the POTUS do to these circumstances.
I can’t get a better job because no one is hiring, pending Obama care, higher taxes, sluggish economy, and an inflated monetary system due to money printing.
With this being said, today I am at work, stacking the shelves when a man walks up behind me. I go through my customer service drill, and ask him how his day is going. This is how the conversation went.
Man: Bad, it’s a beautiful day out, and I wanted breakfast from McDonalds but they wouldn’t give it to me (at 1200pm). This is why I’m voting for Obama. These corporations don’t care. They’re just trying to get the money, and Romney wants to help them.
Me: uhm……… (Blood boiling, wondering if there is a sign on my back that says “ I care about your politics”.)
Man: It’s a free country county, a man should be able to go anywhere he wants to get breakfast. Plus it’s Sunday. You know, the day that mother Mary washed Jesus’ feet, and died on the cross. Everyone should be off right. So, they need to have breakfast for us. I don’t go to church but I’m pretty sure I’m right. (too many things to list wrong about this whole statement)
Me: Suuurree….. Followed by awkward silence, and me just staring at him.
After the awkward moment when he realized that not everyone has the same views as him, he asked me for some product that was on the other side of the store. I told him where he could find it and offered to take him there. This man started to whine in a way that I could only describe as a 2 year old throwing a fit. He said “Man I’m almost diabetic, I’ve walked almost 2 miles today and you are a strapping young man. Why don’t you just go get it for me.” (yes, because I’m just sitting in a chair all day play tic-tac-tow with myself)
Long story short, this man needed an escort around the store, someone to hold his hand through life because he was too lazy to find anything himself.
This is the problem with liberal voters (not Democrats but Libs). They think only for themselves, have no real rational thoughts, and are lazy, expecting everyone to do everything for them.
These are the faithful followers of Barack Hussein Obama.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
The humble vet
We have all heard the ranting of people like me, going on about how the entitlement mentality is killing this once great country. Yes, I said it: “once great”. Don’t get me wrong, I truly love my country and what it stood for. So much so, I voluntarily put myself in harm’s way on more occasions than I can remember as a Marine.
The problem though, begins with my generation. After the New Deal, the feminist movement, or almost any moment from the early 1900’s with a few exceptions, the children of these people came about and expected to get whatever they wanted.
They truly believe the reason we even have a government is to provide for the people. To be the big brother that is there to make your life easier. This mentality is so lemmingly followed that we should just change the preamble of the Declaration of Independence to say, “We hold these truths to be government-provided, that all men are created unequal until government helps them; that they are endowed by their president with certain alienable rights that among these are Life for viable beings, limited liberty and guaranteed contentment.
I say contentment because people forget that the Declaration doesn’t say guaranteed happiness provided by the government, but the opportunity to pursue it on your own.
Well, this blog post is not targeted to the mob. That will be for another day. This post is to target the veterans. This is where I will probably piss off a lot of my friends, but it needs to be said.
Most veterans are hard workers, good people, and hold to some form of conservatism or another. I myself am a strong libertarian with socially conservative values. I believe, in theory, the only reason a federal government exists is for a civil contract among similar people groups for foreign defense. Outside of this definition, no man has any rights over my person. With that said, the next best thing is our original set up of government provided by the Constitution, and most importantly the Bill of Rights. Not just the first one, but all 10 of them.
As veterans, we all experience a bombardment of gratitude and respect. Everywhere I go, I am stopped and thanked. This is a nice reminder that people appreciate us. I am a humble man though, and do not know what to say to this. I served for the reason of honor. I wanted to serve in the defense of this country. I didn’t do it for benefits, thanks or recognition. In truth, I don’t even tell people that I’m a Marine unless it otherwise comes up.
This is because I do not want anything for it. It was a sacrifice for which I volunteered. For it to be a sacrifice, some level of unrecognized works needs to be suffered. When you see a veteran constantly looking for some form of recognition or hand-me-out, it is because he has a chip on his shoulder. It is unbecoming of his service, his predecessors, and our image of voluntary suffrage.
This thought process is becoming more and more rarer. Every day you see on the news, TV, or read somewhere that veterans aren’t being treated as upper class citizens. They’re not getting paid enough, or there is no leniency for their mistakes.
When this is a vet’s attitude, there is no difference between them and snotty hippies and libs that think they should be able to have what every they want at the expense of the government. All your years of sacrifice go out the door when you think you should be compensated for it. If we were paid in full for all our deeds, then where is the sacrifice? When a vet touts that he has done so many combat deployments and expects to get away with having massive credit card debt, not paying his mortgage because he was stupid and didn’t realize he was entering a contract he couldn’t keep, or thinks he has earned unemployment along with other benefits, he has lost what it means to be a service member in humility. He serves for recognition alone.
No one cares how many deployments you have done. You are not the only service member. You are not the only person to see combat, and you are most certainly not the only person in this world to have suffered some sort of hardship or loss. You volunteered for it! So don’t complain about it and expect the world to stop for you.
Finally, what makes the military such a great place to say that you sacrificed for your country is the low pay. The next time I hear a military man say he isn’t pay squat, I may lose control and slap him. The pay is higher today than at any point in military history. Grow up! You don’t like the pay? Find a better job. There is a reason it’s not meant for everyone. This goes for all government or civil jobs. If firemen, teachers, police, etc get paid as much as the middle class then it’s just a job. Not a sacrifice or a service. If you can’t pay your bills, it’s no one’s fault but your own. If someone else is getting paid more than you, too bad, you probably should have joined right out of high school.
Now, I don’t want people leaving this page with a bad attitude. We as veterans all have suffered in some manner or another. The gratitude and recognition is nice. It is a nice reminder that people know we have sacrificed for them. To the civilians that do this, keep it up. To the military, don’t grow to expect it. Always remember, it is a sacrifice that you volunteered for. Yes, you truly deserve more, but only when you humble yourself and don’t expect it.
The problem though, begins with my generation. After the New Deal, the feminist movement, or almost any moment from the early 1900’s with a few exceptions, the children of these people came about and expected to get whatever they wanted.
They truly believe the reason we even have a government is to provide for the people. To be the big brother that is there to make your life easier. This mentality is so lemmingly followed that we should just change the preamble of the Declaration of Independence to say, “We hold these truths to be government-provided, that all men are created unequal until government helps them; that they are endowed by their president with certain alienable rights that among these are Life for viable beings, limited liberty and guaranteed contentment.
I say contentment because people forget that the Declaration doesn’t say guaranteed happiness provided by the government, but the opportunity to pursue it on your own.
Well, this blog post is not targeted to the mob. That will be for another day. This post is to target the veterans. This is where I will probably piss off a lot of my friends, but it needs to be said.
Most veterans are hard workers, good people, and hold to some form of conservatism or another. I myself am a strong libertarian with socially conservative values. I believe, in theory, the only reason a federal government exists is for a civil contract among similar people groups for foreign defense. Outside of this definition, no man has any rights over my person. With that said, the next best thing is our original set up of government provided by the Constitution, and most importantly the Bill of Rights. Not just the first one, but all 10 of them.
As veterans, we all experience a bombardment of gratitude and respect. Everywhere I go, I am stopped and thanked. This is a nice reminder that people appreciate us. I am a humble man though, and do not know what to say to this. I served for the reason of honor. I wanted to serve in the defense of this country. I didn’t do it for benefits, thanks or recognition. In truth, I don’t even tell people that I’m a Marine unless it otherwise comes up.
This is because I do not want anything for it. It was a sacrifice for which I volunteered. For it to be a sacrifice, some level of unrecognized works needs to be suffered. When you see a veteran constantly looking for some form of recognition or hand-me-out, it is because he has a chip on his shoulder. It is unbecoming of his service, his predecessors, and our image of voluntary suffrage.
This thought process is becoming more and more rarer. Every day you see on the news, TV, or read somewhere that veterans aren’t being treated as upper class citizens. They’re not getting paid enough, or there is no leniency for their mistakes.
When this is a vet’s attitude, there is no difference between them and snotty hippies and libs that think they should be able to have what every they want at the expense of the government. All your years of sacrifice go out the door when you think you should be compensated for it. If we were paid in full for all our deeds, then where is the sacrifice? When a vet touts that he has done so many combat deployments and expects to get away with having massive credit card debt, not paying his mortgage because he was stupid and didn’t realize he was entering a contract he couldn’t keep, or thinks he has earned unemployment along with other benefits, he has lost what it means to be a service member in humility. He serves for recognition alone.
No one cares how many deployments you have done. You are not the only service member. You are not the only person to see combat, and you are most certainly not the only person in this world to have suffered some sort of hardship or loss. You volunteered for it! So don’t complain about it and expect the world to stop for you.
Finally, what makes the military such a great place to say that you sacrificed for your country is the low pay. The next time I hear a military man say he isn’t pay squat, I may lose control and slap him. The pay is higher today than at any point in military history. Grow up! You don’t like the pay? Find a better job. There is a reason it’s not meant for everyone. This goes for all government or civil jobs. If firemen, teachers, police, etc get paid as much as the middle class then it’s just a job. Not a sacrifice or a service. If you can’t pay your bills, it’s no one’s fault but your own. If someone else is getting paid more than you, too bad, you probably should have joined right out of high school.
Now, I don’t want people leaving this page with a bad attitude. We as veterans all have suffered in some manner or another. The gratitude and recognition is nice. It is a nice reminder that people know we have sacrificed for them. To the civilians that do this, keep it up. To the military, don’t grow to expect it. Always remember, it is a sacrifice that you volunteered for. Yes, you truly deserve more, but only when you humble yourself and don’t expect it.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Infantry Women!
Over the years, we as Americans have had a cultural war on the roles of men and women. "Women are the same as men in all aspects of life." "Women are better than men are at all things." These are the ideas that progressives and liberals want everyone to accept. This is just another attempt at the feminization of our society.
You see it in commercials on TV, and the shows they now play. It is a constant bombardment on how men are just stupid and it takes a woman to fix his mistakes. We see shows that have goofy men who can’t make decisions without a woman. Shows like modern family where a beta male is dominated by his wife, and two men are flamboyantly going through life as weak and as feminine as possible.
You would think that men can't even tie their shoes without the direct supervision of a woman.
Well the next round of this assault on equality has started, and of course, they have chosen my beloved corps to use as the battleground. Now that gays can be open in the Marines, why can’t women serve in the infantry?
First, let me throw out this disclaimer: I am not a sexist; I do not see women as lower class citizens. I truly believe that we are equals in the world. The difference is that our strengths and roles are very different. My wife is my partner in all things but we are very different in our skill sets and tasks. Women do things men could never do, and vise versa. To say though, that we are the same in all things is simply ignorant.
I would like to pose a question: Women, would you really want to serve as an infantryman on the front lines of a war zone? Also, do you really want to be seen in that light?
Now let’s break this down. Women are already in the Marines, and they think that they seen live action, face serious danger, and do everything men do. This is why females think they can be infantrymen. But let me clarify. They are not, and have never been close to anything an infantryman has done or experienced. A pop shot or IED is not combat. Sorry ladies, that’s why females were not even permitted on my "Combat Out Post" on the last deployment.
Let’s start with Physical Ability:
Women are truly good at many things and equals as humans but we are not equally created in all things. Women are not equal physically. Yes some women can run fast, far, or lift mass amounts of weight. There are also men who can't do these things. This doesn't change things. A single woman who can run three miles in 18 minutes doesn't mean all women should be allowed to fight. Please read this artical on women and physical abilities: Israel Defense.
Even in today’s corps, women think they have achieved equality through joining the Marines. The reality is, they are held to a lesser standard. For me to achieve a perfect physical fitness test, I have to do 20 dead hang pull-ups, 100 crunches, and run 3 miles in 18 minutes. Females have to do a 70 second flexed arm hang (their arms have to stay bent on a pull up bar), 100 crunches, and 3 miles in 21 minutes. Does that sound equal? If females are equal then why did we have to change the test for her?
Now, infantrymen have to be able to walk 15+ miles at a 3 mile an hour pace with 70+ pounds. Women have never been subjected to this because they struggle to keep pace with only 30 pounds and 10 miles. I don’t want to have to carry the weight of a female in combat when she cannot carry her own.
I’m not even going to touch on the physical exertion expected in actual combat. It is more than most typical men can bear.
Emotional Capability:
I truly believe that women can bear a huge burden of emotional turmoil. Women excel in this area. They can handle a certain amount of mental stress that is immeasurable. The problem is that women have difficulty making decisions separate from their emotions. Emotions are tied directly the thought process of a woman. On the battlefield, decisions need to be made with a split second judgment call. The calls a person makes will directly affect the lives of the men under your command. These decisions have to be processed logically and separate from emotional consequence. The men under you, and over you count on this approach to decision making.
There is a second point to this subject. A woman on the battlefield would emotionally compromise a man. When men deal with death or danger to themselves or other men, they can process it quite well. When a woman comes into play, it changes the thought process. We as men are wired from birth to protect women. It is in our nature and design. This is how men become compromised mentally when women are around in war. We would compromise the mission at hand, and the safety of other troops, just to protect a woman.
I will leave out how it would destroy good moral, and unit cohesion, but the reality is, it would be a distraction to men in training, preparation, and battle. This is already happening with women in logistical units.
Purpose:
I will wrap this up with one final point. Women are not the lesser sex; they just have diffirant roles then men. Females cultivate, nurture and provide life. This is a strength and gift of a woman. Men are the providers, protectors, and warriors. Why would a woman want this role? Especially since it is antithetical to her designed purpose.
In war men have always gone off to fight. They fight for their families, and way of life. Women have always been at home during this time to continue the work the man has left. Her work is diligent, and honorable. She has a purpose and men hold this in high esteem.
The system and ideas we use now work. In over 230 years the United States Marine Corps has not been defeated. The corps is without question, a force that the world fears. Why are people so desperate to change it? The military is not a political playground.
A true warrior, General Robert Barrow says it best!
You see it in commercials on TV, and the shows they now play. It is a constant bombardment on how men are just stupid and it takes a woman to fix his mistakes. We see shows that have goofy men who can’t make decisions without a woman. Shows like modern family where a beta male is dominated by his wife, and two men are flamboyantly going through life as weak and as feminine as possible.
You would think that men can't even tie their shoes without the direct supervision of a woman.
Well the next round of this assault on equality has started, and of course, they have chosen my beloved corps to use as the battleground. Now that gays can be open in the Marines, why can’t women serve in the infantry?
First, let me throw out this disclaimer: I am not a sexist; I do not see women as lower class citizens. I truly believe that we are equals in the world. The difference is that our strengths and roles are very different. My wife is my partner in all things but we are very different in our skill sets and tasks. Women do things men could never do, and vise versa. To say though, that we are the same in all things is simply ignorant.
I would like to pose a question: Women, would you really want to serve as an infantryman on the front lines of a war zone? Also, do you really want to be seen in that light?
Now let’s break this down. Women are already in the Marines, and they think that they seen live action, face serious danger, and do everything men do. This is why females think they can be infantrymen. But let me clarify. They are not, and have never been close to anything an infantryman has done or experienced. A pop shot or IED is not combat. Sorry ladies, that’s why females were not even permitted on my "Combat Out Post" on the last deployment.
Let’s start with Physical Ability:
Women are truly good at many things and equals as humans but we are not equally created in all things. Women are not equal physically. Yes some women can run fast, far, or lift mass amounts of weight. There are also men who can't do these things. This doesn't change things. A single woman who can run three miles in 18 minutes doesn't mean all women should be allowed to fight. Please read this artical on women and physical abilities: Israel Defense.
Even in today’s corps, women think they have achieved equality through joining the Marines. The reality is, they are held to a lesser standard. For me to achieve a perfect physical fitness test, I have to do 20 dead hang pull-ups, 100 crunches, and run 3 miles in 18 minutes. Females have to do a 70 second flexed arm hang (their arms have to stay bent on a pull up bar), 100 crunches, and 3 miles in 21 minutes. Does that sound equal? If females are equal then why did we have to change the test for her?
Now, infantrymen have to be able to walk 15+ miles at a 3 mile an hour pace with 70+ pounds. Women have never been subjected to this because they struggle to keep pace with only 30 pounds and 10 miles. I don’t want to have to carry the weight of a female in combat when she cannot carry her own.
I’m not even going to touch on the physical exertion expected in actual combat. It is more than most typical men can bear.
Emotional Capability:
I truly believe that women can bear a huge burden of emotional turmoil. Women excel in this area. They can handle a certain amount of mental stress that is immeasurable. The problem is that women have difficulty making decisions separate from their emotions. Emotions are tied directly the thought process of a woman. On the battlefield, decisions need to be made with a split second judgment call. The calls a person makes will directly affect the lives of the men under your command. These decisions have to be processed logically and separate from emotional consequence. The men under you, and over you count on this approach to decision making.
There is a second point to this subject. A woman on the battlefield would emotionally compromise a man. When men deal with death or danger to themselves or other men, they can process it quite well. When a woman comes into play, it changes the thought process. We as men are wired from birth to protect women. It is in our nature and design. This is how men become compromised mentally when women are around in war. We would compromise the mission at hand, and the safety of other troops, just to protect a woman.
I will leave out how it would destroy good moral, and unit cohesion, but the reality is, it would be a distraction to men in training, preparation, and battle. This is already happening with women in logistical units.
Purpose:
I will wrap this up with one final point. Women are not the lesser sex; they just have diffirant roles then men. Females cultivate, nurture and provide life. This is a strength and gift of a woman. Men are the providers, protectors, and warriors. Why would a woman want this role? Especially since it is antithetical to her designed purpose.
In war men have always gone off to fight. They fight for their families, and way of life. Women have always been at home during this time to continue the work the man has left. Her work is diligent, and honorable. She has a purpose and men hold this in high esteem.
The system and ideas we use now work. In over 230 years the United States Marine Corps has not been defeated. The corps is without question, a force that the world fears. Why are people so desperate to change it? The military is not a political playground.
A true warrior, General Robert Barrow says it best!
Thursday, May 10, 2012
My War Story! part III
As I had stated before, we were in a very arid valley, surrounding us was desert landscape and barren mountains. For the most part, it was 115+ F. during the day and 80ish at night. To us this was freezing!
The most important part of this whole story would be the fact that it had not rained there in over 10 years!
As I said before in "My War Story: part II" this town would fall, come hell or high water!
Water is what God chose to give us.
Part III
The sun was setting, and the engines were running. The cool air was setting in, and it was all quiet along the screen line. We were waiting for the word: Go.
Then... Boom! Followed by more, lighting. Then the cloud cover drifted over us and the bottom fell out. The order came down: mission would be pushed back a day. The mud would stick the vehicles. The lightning got so bad we had to turn off the radios to prevent the lightning from striking our antennas.
It was quiet that night. I thought it to be one last gift from God to sleep in the rain, my favorite thing to do. Nothing beats the smell of rain in the desert, but we were all baffled by the rain. It never rains in this place, and there was none predicted. This really came out of nowhere.
The next day went without notice. It was time again, and the rain was gone. The word came, "Go". The sight was amazing. To see 60+ vehicles begin a movement to the objective. We were spread out as far as the eye could see, on line moving into a column.
As soon as the sun set you could see in the distance the air strikes taking place. Bright lights would flash in the mountains followed by the echoes of rumbling. This sent fear and terror into the hearts of these villains. It was nice to know they wouldn't sleep tonight as we drove to deliver their judgment.
Then, sometime in the middle of the night, it started to sprinkle again. The cold set in. My rifle was so cold, it hurt to touch. I couldn't feel my fingers, and the wind from driving was shooting a chill to my bones. This is when a helicopter contacted us on the radio to inform us that we just drove over an IED. He could see it because our tire had un-earthed it, making it visible to thermal optics. Then the next LAV hit it, and the next. We all kept driving over more and more. We drove over all of them. They didn't explode! We kept asking ourselves, how are we still alive?
The next call came in from the helicopter, "I've got a guy squatting on a hillside, frantically trying to detonate a trigger device." That's when the answer came. The rain. Since it hadn't rained in 10 years the Taliban never water-proofed the wires, there was no need to. The rain had short circuited all of the IEDs!
Don't worry about the guy on the hill, he found his 77 virgins.
In astonishment, we all kept driving towards the target. Not one IED went off that night, not even the minefield. The air took out any enemy mortar positions, and we never encountered machine gun fire. It was amazing! When the IEDs didn't stop us, the enemy lost the will to fight. At least until we rolled into town.
God gave us a gift. It wasn't our time. It was as simple as that. To this day, I don't know what for. I have never earned his love, his protection. I am not a good man, nor am I significant in the scheme of his grand design. Nevertheless, he spared me. This was a realization of all the Marines around me. To this day we will all tell you it was divine intervention.
The rest of the story goes off without a hitch. We showed up, and as expected, encountered immediate gun fire. Red platoon jumped to the assault and persecuted the threat while a breacher team went to work on a defused minefield.
As my vehicle rolled into this soon-to-be cemetery, a warthog strafed the town, and bunkers went up into a beautiful ball of fire. I had received a front row ticket to the biggest fireworks show in town, and a show it was!
For the next 40+ hours we laid waste to sections of this town with only a close call or two.
(A special thanks to you Cpl Ginther, for your superb gunner skills, and cat-like reflexes. You know why! I trusted no one more than you to keep our vehicle safe with your 25mm Bushmaster!)
Throughout the hours, more and more Taliban started to show up in the distance but would not dare enter our city. We owned that town!
The mission was done, and the word came to pull out. That in itself was a close call. Our engine went out, and we stopped in tall grass. We couldn't see more that three feet in any direction, and the Taliban reinforcements began to trickle into the area. Thanks to Lcpl Keehner's desperate actions, we got that vehicle out of the area.
It was over. We drove back to the start point and had a celebration. The mission was succesful, we had captured a year supply of IED making materials, ammo, left our mark, and didn't take a single casualty in the battalion. The next morning we made the two-day trip back to base, and I was on a plane in a week heading home.
I had survived a promised death because God made it known that my days were not out.
Therefore, my promise from that day was when this story is told that the rain would be the center of it. The battle itself was just another mission, no different from any other. To this day, I will always see a rainy day as my gift, and it will always bring me back to that night. The night that we were ready to die.
May God continue to bless the Marines that worked diligently, courageously, and without hesitation. Keep them safe, were ever they may be tonight.
To the warriors of second platoon: thank you for your action.
The most important part of this whole story would be the fact that it had not rained there in over 10 years!
As I said before in "My War Story: part II" this town would fall, come hell or high water!
Water is what God chose to give us.
Part III
The sun was setting, and the engines were running. The cool air was setting in, and it was all quiet along the screen line. We were waiting for the word: Go.
Then... Boom! Followed by more, lighting. Then the cloud cover drifted over us and the bottom fell out. The order came down: mission would be pushed back a day. The mud would stick the vehicles. The lightning got so bad we had to turn off the radios to prevent the lightning from striking our antennas.
It was quiet that night. I thought it to be one last gift from God to sleep in the rain, my favorite thing to do. Nothing beats the smell of rain in the desert, but we were all baffled by the rain. It never rains in this place, and there was none predicted. This really came out of nowhere.
The next day went without notice. It was time again, and the rain was gone. The word came, "Go". The sight was amazing. To see 60+ vehicles begin a movement to the objective. We were spread out as far as the eye could see, on line moving into a column.
As soon as the sun set you could see in the distance the air strikes taking place. Bright lights would flash in the mountains followed by the echoes of rumbling. This sent fear and terror into the hearts of these villains. It was nice to know they wouldn't sleep tonight as we drove to deliver their judgment.
Then, sometime in the middle of the night, it started to sprinkle again. The cold set in. My rifle was so cold, it hurt to touch. I couldn't feel my fingers, and the wind from driving was shooting a chill to my bones. This is when a helicopter contacted us on the radio to inform us that we just drove over an IED. He could see it because our tire had un-earthed it, making it visible to thermal optics. Then the next LAV hit it, and the next. We all kept driving over more and more. We drove over all of them. They didn't explode! We kept asking ourselves, how are we still alive?
The next call came in from the helicopter, "I've got a guy squatting on a hillside, frantically trying to detonate a trigger device." That's when the answer came. The rain. Since it hadn't rained in 10 years the Taliban never water-proofed the wires, there was no need to. The rain had short circuited all of the IEDs!
Don't worry about the guy on the hill, he found his 77 virgins.
In astonishment, we all kept driving towards the target. Not one IED went off that night, not even the minefield. The air took out any enemy mortar positions, and we never encountered machine gun fire. It was amazing! When the IEDs didn't stop us, the enemy lost the will to fight. At least until we rolled into town.
God gave us a gift. It wasn't our time. It was as simple as that. To this day, I don't know what for. I have never earned his love, his protection. I am not a good man, nor am I significant in the scheme of his grand design. Nevertheless, he spared me. This was a realization of all the Marines around me. To this day we will all tell you it was divine intervention.
The rest of the story goes off without a hitch. We showed up, and as expected, encountered immediate gun fire. Red platoon jumped to the assault and persecuted the threat while a breacher team went to work on a defused minefield.
As my vehicle rolled into this soon-to-be cemetery, a warthog strafed the town, and bunkers went up into a beautiful ball of fire. I had received a front row ticket to the biggest fireworks show in town, and a show it was!
For the next 40+ hours we laid waste to sections of this town with only a close call or two.
(A special thanks to you Cpl Ginther, for your superb gunner skills, and cat-like reflexes. You know why! I trusted no one more than you to keep our vehicle safe with your 25mm Bushmaster!)
Throughout the hours, more and more Taliban started to show up in the distance but would not dare enter our city. We owned that town!
The mission was done, and the word came to pull out. That in itself was a close call. Our engine went out, and we stopped in tall grass. We couldn't see more that three feet in any direction, and the Taliban reinforcements began to trickle into the area. Thanks to Lcpl Keehner's desperate actions, we got that vehicle out of the area.
It was over. We drove back to the start point and had a celebration. The mission was succesful, we had captured a year supply of IED making materials, ammo, left our mark, and didn't take a single casualty in the battalion. The next morning we made the two-day trip back to base, and I was on a plane in a week heading home.
I had survived a promised death because God made it known that my days were not out.
Therefore, my promise from that day was when this story is told that the rain would be the center of it. The battle itself was just another mission, no different from any other. To this day, I will always see a rainy day as my gift, and it will always bring me back to that night. The night that we were ready to die.
May God continue to bless the Marines that worked diligently, courageously, and without hesitation. Keep them safe, were ever they may be tonight.
To the warriors of second platoon: thank you for your action.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
My War Story! part II
I would like to start this next part of "My War Story" with another gravity check by illustrating a little more on the "defense in depth" set up by the enemy.
In our briefing, we were informed that the two routes leading into this town were consumed with a plethora of IEDs for miles out. Once the battalion passed most of them, we would be forced into a channeled area for quite a while. This would allow the enemy time to see us in advance. They had the gift of elevation. With this, the enemy could set up in bunkers and call for indirect mortar fire. Then, once the distance was closed, the enemy could start with heavy and medium machine gun fire from extreme cliff faces and elevations that would be unreachable by foot or motor. Lastly, our arrival to the entry point into the valley of this town was speculated to have a small minefield, and we would be faced with immediate small arms fire.
What would get us through this route of progressively perilous obstacles would be our determination, intestinal fortitude, and some extreme acts of superior air power. However, planes and helicopters can only do so much.
Part 2:
I had just found out that my platoon would be the first platoon out of the battalion to lead us all there, and Sgt Platz would guide us with Gunny and Flow Following in trace. Up to this moment, I couldn't have been happier to get this mission. Now I was a little more reserved knowing what we were going to face.
More and more intel kept flowing in as we rehearsed, along with changes to the plan. We, for sure, knew this was a town filled to the brim with Taliban ready to fight, and they may have had an inkling that we were coming.
I spent the next day updating myself with the auto-grenade launcher, SMAW rocket launcher, and teaching my Marines the same. This is when the Gunner informed me that the enemy was confirmed to be in the mountains, in caves with no way out. They were going to fight to the death, and take as many of us with them as they could. This is when my long time friend and true war seasoned confidant, Brian Oberschmid, turned to me and said "good luck!"
The day was set to leave the COP. We all loaded up in our vehicles and started the full two-day journey south. We crossed the Helmand River and traversed the dunes. There was absolutely nothing for miles but heat and sand.
After two days of driving, we arrived at our staging/ screen line point. This area was a dry valley about thirteen hours outside of the town. We set in security for the night and went to sleep.
The next morning the battalion had arrived, we were all set into a 360-degree circle that was bigger than most towns in rural areas. We spent that whole day doing final rehearsals, weapons checks, and any updates to planning needed. Also, we used this area to intercept any traffic in or out of the town as people made their way north. This was to keep the town in the dark on what was about to happen.
We had a couple hours to ourselves before we launched into this. Most of us took this time to get our mind right. I personally listened to some music to pump me up and wrote a letter to my wife; a letter stating my goodbyes and final will for her and my son. I have never done this in the past. I have never felt the need. Now I did.
It was almost time to go. My platoon commander got the call to come into the company area for final revisions to the plan. I went with him since I was on his vehicle and I usually need to know if there is going to be any changes to what the scouts will do.
Upon arriving at the company area, I stepped out of my vehicle and two other Marines that I have know for a while, Oberschmid (Company Chief Scout), and Mendiaz (CO's gunner), came straight over to me and gave me big hugs. They too knew what my platoon was up against. It was our moment of respect, good luck, and goodbyes.
The plan was to start driving towards the town in the middle of the night. We would arrive around 3 am. We would use the cover of darkness, and hours of artillery and air support bombarding the enemy as we approach. This would stop the enemy from sleeping so they would be delirious and scared when we showed up on thier front door.
Part of the plan was, once the first few vehicles were hit with IEDs (my platoon), we would pull over if possible and allow the battalion to pass us. Medical would eventually show up and help. No matter what, the battalion wasn't stopping.
I had already planned to get out, if alive, and jump on the next vehicle. I wasn't going to miss this.
Now the time had come! We were loaded up. The hour had struck, and I had made my peace with God. I had written my final words to my family, since I hadn't talked to them in a month. Engines were running and radio checks were done. Every moment of our military career had lead us to this point.
We had trained for everything. Some of us seasoned, some of us ready to experience organized chaos for the first time. Come hell or high water, this town would fall at the hands of U.S. Marines.
Then the rains came...
Part III, God's intervention and the conclusion coming next.
In our briefing, we were informed that the two routes leading into this town were consumed with a plethora of IEDs for miles out. Once the battalion passed most of them, we would be forced into a channeled area for quite a while. This would allow the enemy time to see us in advance. They had the gift of elevation. With this, the enemy could set up in bunkers and call for indirect mortar fire. Then, once the distance was closed, the enemy could start with heavy and medium machine gun fire from extreme cliff faces and elevations that would be unreachable by foot or motor. Lastly, our arrival to the entry point into the valley of this town was speculated to have a small minefield, and we would be faced with immediate small arms fire.
What would get us through this route of progressively perilous obstacles would be our determination, intestinal fortitude, and some extreme acts of superior air power. However, planes and helicopters can only do so much.
Part 2:
I had just found out that my platoon would be the first platoon out of the battalion to lead us all there, and Sgt Platz would guide us with Gunny and Flow Following in trace. Up to this moment, I couldn't have been happier to get this mission. Now I was a little more reserved knowing what we were going to face.
More and more intel kept flowing in as we rehearsed, along with changes to the plan. We, for sure, knew this was a town filled to the brim with Taliban ready to fight, and they may have had an inkling that we were coming.
I spent the next day updating myself with the auto-grenade launcher, SMAW rocket launcher, and teaching my Marines the same. This is when the Gunner informed me that the enemy was confirmed to be in the mountains, in caves with no way out. They were going to fight to the death, and take as many of us with them as they could. This is when my long time friend and true war seasoned confidant, Brian Oberschmid, turned to me and said "good luck!"
The day was set to leave the COP. We all loaded up in our vehicles and started the full two-day journey south. We crossed the Helmand River and traversed the dunes. There was absolutely nothing for miles but heat and sand.
After two days of driving, we arrived at our staging/ screen line point. This area was a dry valley about thirteen hours outside of the town. We set in security for the night and went to sleep.
The next morning the battalion had arrived, we were all set into a 360-degree circle that was bigger than most towns in rural areas. We spent that whole day doing final rehearsals, weapons checks, and any updates to planning needed. Also, we used this area to intercept any traffic in or out of the town as people made their way north. This was to keep the town in the dark on what was about to happen.
We had a couple hours to ourselves before we launched into this. Most of us took this time to get our mind right. I personally listened to some music to pump me up and wrote a letter to my wife; a letter stating my goodbyes and final will for her and my son. I have never done this in the past. I have never felt the need. Now I did.
It was almost time to go. My platoon commander got the call to come into the company area for final revisions to the plan. I went with him since I was on his vehicle and I usually need to know if there is going to be any changes to what the scouts will do.
Upon arriving at the company area, I stepped out of my vehicle and two other Marines that I have know for a while, Oberschmid (Company Chief Scout), and Mendiaz (CO's gunner), came straight over to me and gave me big hugs. They too knew what my platoon was up against. It was our moment of respect, good luck, and goodbyes.
The plan was to start driving towards the town in the middle of the night. We would arrive around 3 am. We would use the cover of darkness, and hours of artillery and air support bombarding the enemy as we approach. This would stop the enemy from sleeping so they would be delirious and scared when we showed up on thier front door.
Part of the plan was, once the first few vehicles were hit with IEDs (my platoon), we would pull over if possible and allow the battalion to pass us. Medical would eventually show up and help. No matter what, the battalion wasn't stopping.
I had already planned to get out, if alive, and jump on the next vehicle. I wasn't going to miss this.
Now the time had come! We were loaded up. The hour had struck, and I had made my peace with God. I had written my final words to my family, since I hadn't talked to them in a month. Engines were running and radio checks were done. Every moment of our military career had lead us to this point.
We had trained for everything. Some of us seasoned, some of us ready to experience organized chaos for the first time. Come hell or high water, this town would fall at the hands of U.S. Marines.
Then the rains came...
Part III, God's intervention and the conclusion coming next.
My War Story!
I was recently asked by a friend to tell my side of the story about a mission that we once participated in while in the Marine Corps. In my humble eight years in the corps, I have had many memorable missions. Some very cool stories to tell, and some life-clenching moments. The problem with all these stories is the lack of substance that can actually be translated to the typical person.
I find myself continuously struggling to relay the weight and impact of each of these memories. The dilemma is equivalent to describing the color red to someone that has been blind his whole life.
When people ask to hear our stories, they expect to hear Brave Heart heroics, and an orchestra of music belting out some patriotic tune, or a flag riding into combat. While the movies portray an epic battle seen with heartfelt masculinity, this is far from the truth. Our missions can be awesome, but there is no way to verbalize it.
When you attempt to tell the stories, and you tell them about how the enemy was shooting at you, they all just look at you with the same look. Wow, that's cool but I really have no idea what you are saying. How do you describe a gunfight, the sensory over load that comes? How do you describe that moment just before you kick in a door, and you turn to look at your buddy to see that he is ready for whatever is behind that door? How do you describe every action leading up to that very moment, that pause in time?
This mission I am about to tell you is not special in the grand scheme of things as far as missions go. It is not the most epic battle to be had, nor is it a pivotal moment in my Marine Corps experience. None of the epic air support actions or magnificent work by all the marines is what make this story so great. What makes this story great is the actual evidence of Gods hand in all things.
This is my attempt to bring gravity to the situation that 2nd platoon faced and how God's intervention is the only reason my friends and I are here today to tell you this story.
Part 1:
It was the summer of 2010 in the southern part of Afghanistan. Our unit was the farthest south of any major military installation. This had already been cause for logistical concerns. Our medivac times were longer than most, and our supplies were far between. For the most part the summer had been relatively quiet. We had one bad incident that was felt by all the brave men of Arthur Co.
One day my platoon commander came to me and said " I'm about to tell you something but you can't tell anyone." I was excited! I knew this was the moment that I would hear about an upcoming mission with the potential to be awesome. He said, "We are about to go south, way south and take on a town." A couple weeks later we found ourselves in a combat out post (COP) when the official order dropped that we would be going on a mission. This mission was to be planned and executed over the next three weeks.
Certain details will be left out of this intentionally but let me just tell you, it was not easy to get this mission approved!
Once the "OK" was given, the battalion was gathered around a basketball court-sized terrain model where the official step-by-step plan was laid out. This was it for us; it was really going to happen. We learned in the operations order that a certain town was filled with only fighting aged males all known to be enemy combatants. There was not a woman or child in sight and we were weapons free. There were to be few rules of engagement applied. However, the most important part to this is the fact that this town was set up to take on a conventional fight, and was outside of the "golden hour". The phones and computers were shut off after this point. No one was to know what was about to happen outside of that meeting.
Conventional warfare is a term meaning the enemy was dug in and had a well planned defense should someone try to take the town. The "golden hour" refers to the time it should take to fly a wounded Marine back to a hospital in time to save his life.
The next two weeks were carried out in typical Marine fashion: rehearsal after rehearsal, after rehearsal. We rehearsed everything from KIA to a flat tire.
Then the ordinance came. We were given enough ammo to take on the Chi-comms in the next great war. This was the moment that it set in, we might be in for a fight. The moment was surreal, a true calm in the funny antics of Marines. Reality was starting to set in.
For a lot of us this was not our first major operation, but each one has a different set of rules, outcomes, and stipulations. For me, this was my first major operation as a husband with a pregnant wife at home, and I just found out that of all the battalion's platoons, our platoon was the first ones to go. We were to lead the way into a town that had IEDs riddled along the entire route, and enemy mortars set all along our path.
I was just told that we were about to take extreme casualties to my platoon, and the possibility of not coming back was very high.
I find myself continuously struggling to relay the weight and impact of each of these memories. The dilemma is equivalent to describing the color red to someone that has been blind his whole life.
When people ask to hear our stories, they expect to hear Brave Heart heroics, and an orchestra of music belting out some patriotic tune, or a flag riding into combat. While the movies portray an epic battle seen with heartfelt masculinity, this is far from the truth. Our missions can be awesome, but there is no way to verbalize it.
When you attempt to tell the stories, and you tell them about how the enemy was shooting at you, they all just look at you with the same look. Wow, that's cool but I really have no idea what you are saying. How do you describe a gunfight, the sensory over load that comes? How do you describe that moment just before you kick in a door, and you turn to look at your buddy to see that he is ready for whatever is behind that door? How do you describe every action leading up to that very moment, that pause in time?
This mission I am about to tell you is not special in the grand scheme of things as far as missions go. It is not the most epic battle to be had, nor is it a pivotal moment in my Marine Corps experience. None of the epic air support actions or magnificent work by all the marines is what make this story so great. What makes this story great is the actual evidence of Gods hand in all things.
This is my attempt to bring gravity to the situation that 2nd platoon faced and how God's intervention is the only reason my friends and I are here today to tell you this story.
Part 1:
It was the summer of 2010 in the southern part of Afghanistan. Our unit was the farthest south of any major military installation. This had already been cause for logistical concerns. Our medivac times were longer than most, and our supplies were far between. For the most part the summer had been relatively quiet. We had one bad incident that was felt by all the brave men of Arthur Co.
One day my platoon commander came to me and said " I'm about to tell you something but you can't tell anyone." I was excited! I knew this was the moment that I would hear about an upcoming mission with the potential to be awesome. He said, "We are about to go south, way south and take on a town." A couple weeks later we found ourselves in a combat out post (COP) when the official order dropped that we would be going on a mission. This mission was to be planned and executed over the next three weeks.
Certain details will be left out of this intentionally but let me just tell you, it was not easy to get this mission approved!
Once the "OK" was given, the battalion was gathered around a basketball court-sized terrain model where the official step-by-step plan was laid out. This was it for us; it was really going to happen. We learned in the operations order that a certain town was filled with only fighting aged males all known to be enemy combatants. There was not a woman or child in sight and we were weapons free. There were to be few rules of engagement applied. However, the most important part to this is the fact that this town was set up to take on a conventional fight, and was outside of the "golden hour". The phones and computers were shut off after this point. No one was to know what was about to happen outside of that meeting.
Conventional warfare is a term meaning the enemy was dug in and had a well planned defense should someone try to take the town. The "golden hour" refers to the time it should take to fly a wounded Marine back to a hospital in time to save his life.
The next two weeks were carried out in typical Marine fashion: rehearsal after rehearsal, after rehearsal. We rehearsed everything from KIA to a flat tire.
Then the ordinance came. We were given enough ammo to take on the Chi-comms in the next great war. This was the moment that it set in, we might be in for a fight. The moment was surreal, a true calm in the funny antics of Marines. Reality was starting to set in.
For a lot of us this was not our first major operation, but each one has a different set of rules, outcomes, and stipulations. For me, this was my first major operation as a husband with a pregnant wife at home, and I just found out that of all the battalion's platoons, our platoon was the first ones to go. We were to lead the way into a town that had IEDs riddled along the entire route, and enemy mortars set all along our path.
I was just told that we were about to take extreme casualties to my platoon, and the possibility of not coming back was very high.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Young Marriage
The year was 2004, I was 20 and my bride to be was 18. We were young and dumb. Completely children in all senses. I am now 28 with a one year old. I work, go to school full time, and father my son while being a husband to my wife. It is exhausting. I am juggling all I can just to keep things together. I now have 20/20 retrospect on my life leading up to this point of struggling through life with a full schedule, low income, and far from extended family. Eight years in the corps really put things off; things like my future with a family that I had established at a ridiculously young age.
Looking back with that 20/20 vision on how my life would turn out, and how things would develop as I got older, I have to ask, would I have changed things? Would I have waited until I was older and more established in life to marry? Should I have gone to college before I flirted with the idea of being a father? No. I wouldn't change a thing.
I have loved every day the Lord has blessed me with the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Some people thought, and think I am crazy when I tell them I have been married for eight years. What was I doing, they ask. Well these are my thoughts on marriage at a young age.
In my previous post, I had explaind why I thought myself a man at eighteen. I was ready to take on the world with a stick and beat it into submission. This is the point: God made woman for man so that he would have a helper, a mate. It wasn't good that man to be alone. I was a man and I needed a mate; a true woman by my side. It was not good for me to be alone.
I can now say after my very short eight years of marriage that it is good, good to have a wife to grow with. It is not good to grow, and then get married. When you marry young and start a family, you are growing with your family. You don't grow alone in your ways, and fantasize about what a wife and child should be like.
I have truly come into my own because I had a wife by my side. I have always told people, if you treat a male like a boy he will never grow up. He will shave but he will be a child. If you give a child man shoes, he will grow into them and become a man.
To the boys that say it's too early to marry, or I want a career first, or I want to experience life first, I say grow up. Nothing is stopping you from fulfilling your dreams. Why not grow with a woman while doing that? Have a partner with whom to do it.
It is only in recent years that society has made it taboo to marry before 30. Since the dawn of time, marriage has been something you do before you step out into the world. Don't fear marriage. It is not an end but a beginning; a freeing of the child as he grows into a man.
Life is short and God made it glorious to enjoy, so enjoy it as God meant it, with your favorite rib.
Looking back with that 20/20 vision on how my life would turn out, and how things would develop as I got older, I have to ask, would I have changed things? Would I have waited until I was older and more established in life to marry? Should I have gone to college before I flirted with the idea of being a father? No. I wouldn't change a thing.
I have loved every day the Lord has blessed me with the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Some people thought, and think I am crazy when I tell them I have been married for eight years. What was I doing, they ask. Well these are my thoughts on marriage at a young age.
In my previous post, I had explaind why I thought myself a man at eighteen. I was ready to take on the world with a stick and beat it into submission. This is the point: God made woman for man so that he would have a helper, a mate. It wasn't good that man to be alone. I was a man and I needed a mate; a true woman by my side. It was not good for me to be alone.
I can now say after my very short eight years of marriage that it is good, good to have a wife to grow with. It is not good to grow, and then get married. When you marry young and start a family, you are growing with your family. You don't grow alone in your ways, and fantasize about what a wife and child should be like.
I have truly come into my own because I had a wife by my side. I have always told people, if you treat a male like a boy he will never grow up. He will shave but he will be a child. If you give a child man shoes, he will grow into them and become a man.
To the boys that say it's too early to marry, or I want a career first, or I want to experience life first, I say grow up. Nothing is stopping you from fulfilling your dreams. Why not grow with a woman while doing that? Have a partner with whom to do it.
It is only in recent years that society has made it taboo to marry before 30. Since the dawn of time, marriage has been something you do before you step out into the world. Don't fear marriage. It is not an end but a beginning; a freeing of the child as he grows into a man.
Life is short and God made it glorious to enjoy, so enjoy it as God meant it, with your favorite rib.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Sending your Kids to War!
For the longest time I never gave much thought to the notion that when we go to war, people see it as sending their kids to war. I know I didn't agree with it because I saw myself as a man, not a child. On the same token, I was leading Marines into combat that were 17 and 18 years old. You could still see the baby fat on their faces. I too looked like an adolescent on my first two or three of my five deployments.
This train of thought always bothered me, but I didn't know why. Then after watching a news commercial about it, my wife started spouting out angrily about how she must be married to a little boy then. We have been together through every deployment, starting back in 2003. She put it into words. Is she married to a child of someone, or a man that is her husband and father of her child? A man that has fought in two wars, led Marines (the biggest honor of all), and a man that works hard to feed his family.
I'm not tooting my own horn, but think about it. I'm not the only marine that has done this. So are we all just someone's child?
The answer to this is a resounding no. Once I was a child. Once I partook in childish ways. Then one day I put those childish ways behind me and I signed over my life as a sacrifice to my nation. I am one of many, but still few.
The moment I entered that legally binding contract, I was no longer a son. I was a man, a man that makes his own way, and earns his own breath. From that moment, I stood shoulder to shoulder in a long legacy of men that have fought, sacrificed, and sometimes died.
Is this the thought of someone's child? Those that now defend our way of life are young and still developing in life, but they defend us with their lives, and honor.
To call these men our nations children is to give great disrespect to their standing in society. These men answer to no father or mother. They now answer to their God, Sgt, and their conscience.
I have not answered to my mother or father since I turned 18. That day I was a man, making a man's decisions. I am a son to no one. I am a father to Isaac, and a husband to Jessi. We send our nation's best men to war, not our children.
To the Men I followed, and the Men I led, it was truly an honor.
Simper Fidelis.
This train of thought always bothered me, but I didn't know why. Then after watching a news commercial about it, my wife started spouting out angrily about how she must be married to a little boy then. We have been together through every deployment, starting back in 2003. She put it into words. Is she married to a child of someone, or a man that is her husband and father of her child? A man that has fought in two wars, led Marines (the biggest honor of all), and a man that works hard to feed his family.
I'm not tooting my own horn, but think about it. I'm not the only marine that has done this. So are we all just someone's child?
The answer to this is a resounding no. Once I was a child. Once I partook in childish ways. Then one day I put those childish ways behind me and I signed over my life as a sacrifice to my nation. I am one of many, but still few.
The moment I entered that legally binding contract, I was no longer a son. I was a man, a man that makes his own way, and earns his own breath. From that moment, I stood shoulder to shoulder in a long legacy of men that have fought, sacrificed, and sometimes died.
Is this the thought of someone's child? Those that now defend our way of life are young and still developing in life, but they defend us with their lives, and honor.
To call these men our nations children is to give great disrespect to their standing in society. These men answer to no father or mother. They now answer to their God, Sgt, and their conscience.
I have not answered to my mother or father since I turned 18. That day I was a man, making a man's decisions. I am a son to no one. I am a father to Isaac, and a husband to Jessi. We send our nation's best men to war, not our children.
To the Men I followed, and the Men I led, it was truly an honor.
Simper Fidelis.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Your dog is not a child
Warning pet lovers: some harsh words will be said. If you find this offensive, place complaints in closest toilet and flush.
I would first like to start with a question. Am I the only one who finds it offensive when people compare their animals to children? As if they are parents and know how hard it is to raise kids.
To the people who have dogs and believe they are children, let me correct you! Dogs (and cats) are pets. Nothing more. While we love them and enjoy them, they are animals. Some of us even refer to them as family (weird enough already), but they are not children, and you are not a parent.
I am in the business of raising men. I have a one year old boy. Daily I teach him how to be a man. Yes, even at one. He is disciplined when bad so he will understand right and wrong. He plays hard outside so he can appreciate the outdoors. We wrestle so he can learn to not fear physical contact and have confidence. I teach him to talk, and respond to commands. I protect him when he is in danger, and teach him how to determine danger. Above all he is loved as my son so he knows the importance of child rearing. I cannot leave him or get rid of him until the season comes that he steps into the world with the lessons that I have taught him.
I am in a continuous walk with my child to make him into a functional adult. A man, something our society lacks. One day he will leave me and have children of his own.
It is no easy task raising a man or woman. It takes patience, diligence, physical labor, loss of sleep, stress, fear, blood, sweat, and tears.
A dog or pet is an animal that exists strictly for your enjoyment. It has been bread with specific genes in mind. An owner can choose to get rid of them, or bread them. They will die in less than 20 years. They will never need to know morals or work to survive on their own. One cannot say that he or she is proud of the pet it has become, or take pride in the pet it is.
So in final, it is beyond insulting when someone compares their dog or pet to caring for children. If this is you, keep your distance from me. I will have no problem pointing out the error in your thinking.
Disclaimer: I am not bashing pets or owners, just the people that are so in love with an animal that it becomes gross. It is definitely a sign of a weak society when animals are equal to humans.
I would first like to start with a question. Am I the only one who finds it offensive when people compare their animals to children? As if they are parents and know how hard it is to raise kids.
To the people who have dogs and believe they are children, let me correct you! Dogs (and cats) are pets. Nothing more. While we love them and enjoy them, they are animals. Some of us even refer to them as family (weird enough already), but they are not children, and you are not a parent.
I am in the business of raising men. I have a one year old boy. Daily I teach him how to be a man. Yes, even at one. He is disciplined when bad so he will understand right and wrong. He plays hard outside so he can appreciate the outdoors. We wrestle so he can learn to not fear physical contact and have confidence. I teach him to talk, and respond to commands. I protect him when he is in danger, and teach him how to determine danger. Above all he is loved as my son so he knows the importance of child rearing. I cannot leave him or get rid of him until the season comes that he steps into the world with the lessons that I have taught him.
I am in a continuous walk with my child to make him into a functional adult. A man, something our society lacks. One day he will leave me and have children of his own.
It is no easy task raising a man or woman. It takes patience, diligence, physical labor, loss of sleep, stress, fear, blood, sweat, and tears.
A dog or pet is an animal that exists strictly for your enjoyment. It has been bread with specific genes in mind. An owner can choose to get rid of them, or bread them. They will die in less than 20 years. They will never need to know morals or work to survive on their own. One cannot say that he or she is proud of the pet it has become, or take pride in the pet it is.
So in final, it is beyond insulting when someone compares their dog or pet to caring for children. If this is you, keep your distance from me. I will have no problem pointing out the error in your thinking.
Disclaimer: I am not bashing pets or owners, just the people that are so in love with an animal that it becomes gross. It is definitely a sign of a weak society when animals are equal to humans.
Friday, February 17, 2012
To the lemmings
Center of Gravity. What does that mean? Well if you're in the military, it is a reference to your strengths as a fighting force. The one thing that makes you effective or able to stand against a foe.
If you're not in the military then you know it as another name. Principles or values. These are your compass and map through life.
In today's world people don't subscribe to one principle or value because it may cause friction or hardship but without them, can you call yourself a person? Or is it possible you're just a lemming following some one else's will?
When we ask ourselves "where have all the men gone?", the answer is by the way of another's will.
If you find yourself with an open mind about all things and willing to accept all peoples and their belief systems then you have lost your center of gravity. You have the personality of a dog and will never stand for anything.
I have seen a plethora of this type of people in my short time in college. It drives me insane. They have no foundation, no compass, they are easy to brain wash. They are lemmings to the social and liberal agenda; willing to jump off a cliff if told by someone they can fly.
This is why there is a war for your mind. A war against faith. Faith gives you a core; makes you a man or woman insted of a lemming. Having a core of fundamental beliefs drives you to question everything instead of excepting everything.
It is because of this wishy washy mentality that we as a country are going to the way of Rome. All is acceptable and we are to just love everyone for who they are and ignore what they do.
In short, if you find yourself empathetic to all walks of life and social issues, then you are lost. You have no meaning in your life. Find your compass and don't be afraid to stand for something; to have principles even if they are not widely excepted by the mob.
Last note: Just because someone in the world of academia tells you something or someone in power makes a statement with authority doesn't mean they are right.
If you're not in the military then you know it as another name. Principles or values. These are your compass and map through life.
In today's world people don't subscribe to one principle or value because it may cause friction or hardship but without them, can you call yourself a person? Or is it possible you're just a lemming following some one else's will?
When we ask ourselves "where have all the men gone?", the answer is by the way of another's will.
If you find yourself with an open mind about all things and willing to accept all peoples and their belief systems then you have lost your center of gravity. You have the personality of a dog and will never stand for anything.
I have seen a plethora of this type of people in my short time in college. It drives me insane. They have no foundation, no compass, they are easy to brain wash. They are lemmings to the social and liberal agenda; willing to jump off a cliff if told by someone they can fly.
This is why there is a war for your mind. A war against faith. Faith gives you a core; makes you a man or woman insted of a lemming. Having a core of fundamental beliefs drives you to question everything instead of excepting everything.
It is because of this wishy washy mentality that we as a country are going to the way of Rome. All is acceptable and we are to just love everyone for who they are and ignore what they do.
In short, if you find yourself empathetic to all walks of life and social issues, then you are lost. You have no meaning in your life. Find your compass and don't be afraid to stand for something; to have principles even if they are not widely excepted by the mob.
Last note: Just because someone in the world of academia tells you something or someone in power makes a statement with authority doesn't mean they are right.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Only smart people know the age of the earth: part 1.2
While a recent study in the journal Science suggested that the Grand Canyon was about 16 million to 17 million years old (much older that previously thought), a new study, detailed in the journal Geology, argues that geological evidence still supports the long standing age of 6 million years.livescience.com
What do scientists do when they have too many variables to make a solid theory? They give it more time. In the scientific community, dates for events or creation of geological spectacles are created with theories. When a new variable comes about that throws a wrench in to it, they just make the date older (throwing more time at it makes it all better).
The Grand Canyon is a perfect example of this. The age of this geological spectacle is argued over continuously (see above). It was 6 million years old but then when new problems arose to this theory it became 17 million years old. Time cures everything, even poor science.
I am currently in the roofing business. I spend all day on a roof figuring out how to make water run off effectively. We have a saying in my business, water only runs up hill in china, and the grand canyon.
Simply put the most north end of the Grand Canyon is at a lower elevation than the middle. Yea, water ran up hill for a time to wear the limestone away to its current elevation at the base of the canyon. The only way this is possible is if you slap a couple of zeros on the age of the canyon. Don't even get me started on the tectonic theory that just the walls of the canyon raised over a thousand feet while the base stayed the same.
Dont belive me? go on google earth and run your curser along the ridge of the canyon.
So from now on when you cant explain something in life or you get something wrong, just explain it by saying "well i did my math home work a 100 million years ago" or "the reason red is red, is because 1 trillion million years" it works for scientists!
Want a better theory for the Grand Canyon? look up creation science evangilism.
Thank you. This blog took 52 zillion years to create.
What do scientists do when they have too many variables to make a solid theory? They give it more time. In the scientific community, dates for events or creation of geological spectacles are created with theories. When a new variable comes about that throws a wrench in to it, they just make the date older (throwing more time at it makes it all better).
The Grand Canyon is a perfect example of this. The age of this geological spectacle is argued over continuously (see above). It was 6 million years old but then when new problems arose to this theory it became 17 million years old. Time cures everything, even poor science.
I am currently in the roofing business. I spend all day on a roof figuring out how to make water run off effectively. We have a saying in my business, water only runs up hill in china, and the grand canyon.
Simply put the most north end of the Grand Canyon is at a lower elevation than the middle. Yea, water ran up hill for a time to wear the limestone away to its current elevation at the base of the canyon. The only way this is possible is if you slap a couple of zeros on the age of the canyon. Don't even get me started on the tectonic theory that just the walls of the canyon raised over a thousand feet while the base stayed the same.
Dont belive me? go on google earth and run your curser along the ridge of the canyon.
So from now on when you cant explain something in life or you get something wrong, just explain it by saying "well i did my math home work a 100 million years ago" or "the reason red is red, is because 1 trillion million years" it works for scientists!
Want a better theory for the Grand Canyon? look up creation science evangilism.
Thank you. This blog took 52 zillion years to create.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Only smart people know the age of the earth: part 1
It is difficult to work out the age of the Great Barrier Reef. This is because of the way a reef can grow and shrink as the sea level changes. A coral reef can grow in diameter, that is how wide they are, from 1 to 2 cm per year. They can also grow upwards from 1 to 15 cm per year. Coral can not grow if the water is too deep (150 meters or more) because it needs light from the sun. They cannot grow out of the water (above sea level) wikipedia.com
I recently watched National Geographic: Amazing Planet, and as I sat on the couch I found myself pausing the show and asking my beautiful wife if she just heard what I did.
Let me set the stage. I was not by any means raised in a Christian household. Quite the opposit. I was taught to question everything and to choose my belief system. It is because of this that I became a Christian. Now that I am a Christian, I still question even my own religion, yet I still come up with confidence in my faith. God proves himself to me daily.
So on that note, I always wonder how professionals or scholars know the age of the earth. Go ahead, tell me carbon dating. sorry, carbon dating is not by any means accurate with in a million year bracket to scientists, and not accurate at all to science or math. There are too many variable that skew the data right or left (ya, I learned that in my stats class).
Back to Nat Geo. In episode two of the above listed show, the narrator states that the great barrier reef is somewhere around 3 million years old. She states that fact with authority. It must have been observed and tested. I would love to find that video or test summary.
So I looked it up on wikipedia.org to see if the facts line up. Well they didn't (see above). To state the obvious, the narrator talks about how the planets continental shelves have shifted over the last million years. This shift changed the ocean currents along with temperatures. Currants and temperatures that cannot sustain a coral reef for the area.
This is the problem with science today. Theories continue to contradict themselves but we are to except them all in harmony as fact with outproof.
Question and analyze everything!
I recently watched National Geographic: Amazing Planet, and as I sat on the couch I found myself pausing the show and asking my beautiful wife if she just heard what I did.
Let me set the stage. I was not by any means raised in a Christian household. Quite the opposit. I was taught to question everything and to choose my belief system. It is because of this that I became a Christian. Now that I am a Christian, I still question even my own religion, yet I still come up with confidence in my faith. God proves himself to me daily.
So on that note, I always wonder how professionals or scholars know the age of the earth. Go ahead, tell me carbon dating. sorry, carbon dating is not by any means accurate with in a million year bracket to scientists, and not accurate at all to science or math. There are too many variable that skew the data right or left (ya, I learned that in my stats class).
Back to Nat Geo. In episode two of the above listed show, the narrator states that the great barrier reef is somewhere around 3 million years old. She states that fact with authority. It must have been observed and tested. I would love to find that video or test summary.
So I looked it up on wikipedia.org to see if the facts line up. Well they didn't (see above). To state the obvious, the narrator talks about how the planets continental shelves have shifted over the last million years. This shift changed the ocean currents along with temperatures. Currants and temperatures that cannot sustain a coral reef for the area.
This is the problem with science today. Theories continue to contradict themselves but we are to except them all in harmony as fact with outproof.
Question and analyze everything!
How Scientist Observed the Beginnings
Definition of SCIENCE
1: the state of knowing : knowledge as distinguished from ignorance or misunderstanding
2a : a department of systematized knowledge as an object of study b : something (as a sport or technique) that may be studied or learned like systematized knowledge
3a : knowledge or a system of knowledge covering general truths or the operation of general laws especially as obtained and tested through scientific method b : such knowledge or such a system of knowledge concerned with the physical world and its phenomena : NATURAL SCIENCE
4: a system or method reconciling practical ends with scientific laws
Definition of SCIENTIFIC METHOD
: principles and procedures for the systematic pursuit of knowledge involving the recognition and formulation of a problem, the collection of data through observation and experiment, and the formulation and testing of hypotheses
The definition of science according to Merriam-Webster has many definitions but they all seem to come to the same end. The study of knowledge. The one I want to break down here is definition 3a. In the definition it talks about the manner in which we conduct studies in order to come up with truths.
Scientists try to answer questions of unknown subjects such as the creation of the world using the scientific method and then state the outcomes achieved by the study. There are many questions in the universe that eat at the very souls of man. Questions like how did I get here, what is my purpose, and were am I going.
Well according to “scientific studies” scientists can answer that question. Man, animals, and all things living came from a rock. More specifically, a rock that was rained on until it broke down into mud, then the mud was struck by lightning an uncountable amount of times. This caused the mud to turn into “primordial soup”. Yummy! After an immeasurable amount of time, a single cell crawled out of this soup. Thus the beginnings of man.
Wait let me back up to how the world began. Everything in existence, all mater, was condensed into and object the size of a period. That period exploded into a universe unleashing a chain of events that created the world. I hope this period doesn’t explode.!
Now let’s talk about how scientists know this. Well through scientific studies and the use of the scientific method. The definition states that a question arise. How did we come into existence? Well after reading the definition of scientific method, I can only assume that a scientist went back in time. You know before time. Then sat in a space ship and observed all of this happening.
Then he experimented on ideas he drew from the observation to find out what he say was real. This is how we came up with the big band theory, and the theory of evolution. Since it was proven by observation, we can now build more theories off of those. Then build more theories off of these. Because we keep proving the first theory, right? Wrong.
The theories have not been proven, observed and hardly tested but yet we take them as doctrine. We teach our children this as if its fact. Wake up people the big bang theory and evolutional theory is anything but science.
Scientists no longer question everything. They just make a theory and call it proven then never question it again.
“Science without religion is lame, religion without science is boring.”
-Albert Einstein.
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