CYCLONE BOBCAT

CYCLONE BOBCAT was my radio call sign when I was senior advisor to the Black Panthers in Vietnam in 1968/69. It is also the name of the book I wrote about my Vietnam experience and the aftermath. The Black Panthers were an elite Vietnamese Army infantry unit; I was an US Army infantry officer, age 23.
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See picture.
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Recently, I finished the conversion and cleanup of the book: conversion from a relatively dumb software program to Word 2007, and cleanup of the typos, punctuation, etc. This little task took me about six years - although it could have easily been done in as many days. The original text flooded out of me like water from a burst dam, considerably more compelling than the task of going back to dot the ‘I’s and cross the ‘T’s.
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CB is headed for the Library of Congress where it will become part of the Veterans History Project. The book isn’t published and I do not intend to pursue publication - at least not in the traditional manner. I really should, and most likely will, look into online publication for easier access. It probably takes only a few minutes to do that - once I figure out how and where.
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Many of my blog readers have read the book already. If you haven’t read it but want to do so, let me know via blog comment or my msn.com email address; I’ll send it to you as an email attachment.

Denny, Laurie & Liza

                                          Liza
                                                      

                       Liza's neighborhood.


Our most recent houseguests, old friends of Trish's, reside in Anacortes, WA.  Denny's into sailing, boats of all kinds, and is a passionate birder.  He sailed solo to Hawaii a few years back, the very thought of which scares the crap out of me.  I'd be worried sick that some behemoth freighter would t-bone me in the middle of the night, sending me into the depths for a long term visit with King Neptune, and not even noticing the slight tremor caused by the impact.
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Laurie's up for nearly any activity, golfed with us a couple of times, took a bike ride with Trish.  Laurie plays scrabble and similar word games online or via smartphone, usually has four games going at once; I recently became one of her opponents.  We introduced D & L to Polish golf and pickleball and they enjoyed both - or seemed to anyway. 
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Trish and I spent a couple days in Anacortes last summer on our return from AK.  Denny wasn't home then, was down in the Gulf coordinating efforts to contain and clean up the huge oil spill - his occupation.  D & L are fun, upbeat folks, really enjoyed their visit.  They bought a gift for us (see pix) but didn't say a word about it.  We discovered it after they'd left, promptly named it Liza.

The Star Mangled Spanner

It so happened that I was in the kitchen at the time, dishing up chips and salsa and popping the top on a brewski.  So, I really wasn't paying much attention.  But I still heard it.  About halfway through, I commented to the others, "That sounds terrible!  Who the hell's singing?"
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"Christina Aguilera."
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While not being acquainted with her work, the name was familiar.  Familiar enough that I knew she'd been around awhile and was a professional.  Whoever selects the superbowl singers would not have selected some unknown for the job.  But maybe they should have.  Granted, the song is not at all easy to sing; I'd be embarassed to even try it.  The lyrics are great but oh my god - the melody.
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That said, I do believe Christina baby is capable of singing it well.  I'm not referring to the mangled and skipped words although that, too, was unforgiveable.  No, it was the delivery, the sound of two cats with their tails tied together and draped over a clothesline that pissed me off.  Again!  Same thing happened a few years ago with Roseanne Barr, with only one major difference: the cats were considerably chubbier.
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My patriotism is mostly the understated variety.  I don't wave the flag a lot, don't pound my chest and scream "God bless America!" at every opportunity.  Donating 4 years of my life to the cause - and if not for several miraculous near misses, it would have been life itself - is proof enough that I care.  So, this patriotic venting session is a rarity but vent I will.
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I've had quite enough of the Star Mangling, thank you very much.  It's high time the flaming idiots who select superbowl singers pull their heads out of their aggregated assholes and do it right.  Give the song the respect it deserves, choose someone who can sing the song the way it should be sung, and rehearse it until it's perfect.  I don't give a rat's ass how famous the singer is - or is not - as long as it's nicely done.
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I feel better now.  Thanks for bearing with me.  I'm going to send this to the superbowl organizers.  If you feel the way I do, please let them know about it.

Adam's Junk

Did (the original) Adam have testicles?
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As I understand it, women were something of an afterthought, were dreamed up later when God took a post-creation coffee break, started thinking about things, and decided Adam needed some company. That being the case, there was no reason whatsoever for Adam to have testicles as standard factory equipment; there just wasn’t any use for them.
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So, no doubt about it, Adam had to be retooled. No, that’s not really the correct term because it implies that there was a tool to begin with. Not sure what they called it back then but nowadays it would be termed a factory recall. Or, God may have done the alterations while Adam was asleep one night. I can just imagine Adam waking up one morning, glancing down, seeing this new thing hanging there, exclaiming loudly, “What the hell?”
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No, no, no: he wouldn’t have said ‘what the hell’ cuz hell had yet to be created, wasn’t part of the vocabulary. Anyway, he had to have been pretty startled - worried, too. In his place I’d be wondering just what kind of dangly thingy I’d find attached to me the following morning - and where it would be attached: armpit, earlobe, chin?
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My bible history studies in grade school skipped over this subject. It may have been omitted from the lesson plan due its adult nature. Seems odd though, that I’ve heard nary a word about it in the intervening years. I can’t be the only person in the world that wonders about human design and construction and dangly thingies.