My Virginia Tech Football Memory

Virginia Tech football celebrates its 125th year this year, and the various alumni groups and Hokie Sports sites are asking us to share our memories.  Here is my submission to the so called "Bracket of Memories":

"I will never forget the night that Virginia Tech played against West Virginia on November 20, 2002.

For one, it was a fucking Wednesday. Wednesday!  Why?  I never really understood that one. Wednesday was a bad night for me.  That was the night that my ultra heavy metal band, DeathSpoon, played at The Underground Underground, a sort of concrete bunker underneath the Underground Pub.  But in all honesty, the band wasn't doing so well, and I was just a bass player. Bass players are a dime a dozen after all (it isn't that hard to just go bommma bom bom bom bom bom bommma!  Da bomma bom bom bom bom bom bomma bomma!) and if they really needed one they could just pick one up from the six or seven bass players who kind of camped out in front of the Mish Mish, just waiting for a van to pull up and offer them some work.  Painting, strange bass player sex stuff, even sometimes bass playing, just whatever those guys could get.  Just enough to keep the dream of being a real life bass player alive.  In any case, I could read the reading on the wall.  DeathSpoon would at least go on without me, and perhaps cease to be altogether.

So though it was school night, and I probably had an exam soon to come, and my impending expulsion from the band weighed heavily on mine heart, I decided that a Wednesday night in Lane Stadium (any night in Lane Stadium, really), was worth the cost.  So off I went.

I don't remember much of the game.  Just that at the half, the Hokies were winning.  I am not sure why I decided to leave at half time, aside from maybe the delicious notion that leaving at the half showed my complete contempt for the other team, a real Edward the Longshanks kind of move, retiring with the battle still raging but clearly well in hand.  I also think someone in the stands may have thrown up on my shoes, thereby dampening my enthusiasm for the contest.

So I walked back home, which at that time was a townhouse on North Main.  It was a long walk, and no doubt a thoughtful one.  I suffered with depression on and off through college (as I still do), to the point where at times the only thing I was capable of doing was sitting in bed eating a bag of Krispy Kruellers and reading "The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt".  Doing anything else was just too hard.  I don't think I was there yet on this particular day, but I am sure something was on my mind.  I do remember looking in the window of a restaurant, a puddle of light on a dark November night, and seeing a few patrons sitting around a table, some of the few people in Blacksburg who were NOT at the football game.  I admired their cool disdain, their lack of concern that not one or two miles distance the mighty Hokies, THEIR mighty Hokies, were engaged in combat against the Barbarians from the Northern Coal Districts.  I wished for a moment that I had their confidence and comportment (be it ever so smug), and imagined they were interesting artsy people who wore black turtlenecks and read dead French philosophers. For a brief moment I almost decided to walk in and introduce myself, asking them to take me in like a band of jaded soldiers takes in a stray dog, for the sheer pathos of the thing, the idea that anything could be alive in a world so cold.  But the moment passed, and I walked on.

In any case, by the time I got home the third quarter was well underway and Tech was losing.  I was upset, but not really all that surprised.  We ended up losing that game 18-21.  Won't forget that anytime soon.

So yeah.  Happy 125, Virginia Tech Football!  Wishing you many, many more."

Vice President Pence Visits the Schiffkraftwerk!

Oh wow!

I know, I haven't written in a month.  Over a month.  I've been so busy, and so tired, and I've been trying orchestrate a coup within the Peninsula Engineers Council (it failed, but by God did we get close.  So close we could almost taste it).

But I'm back!  And there is only thing that could bring me back out of a long slumber....sponsorship.  So while you're reading this, why don't you kick back with a Commander Sterling's Chocolate Pudding Blast! Commander Sterling's:  We're all going to the same place anyway, so why not enjoy yourself?

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But also is the news that Vice President Pence will be visiting the Shipyard this weekend to be keynote speaker at the INDIANA (SSN 789) Christening.  This is a big deal...normally the most high powered person to attend a submarine christening is the Chief of Naval Operations or his deputies, the head of Naval Reactors, and maybe a few Senators.  Powerful people, yes indeed.  But not nearly as powerful as the Vice President of the United States.
Wait.  Strike that.  Reverse it.  No one potentially as powerful as the Vice President of the United States.  I would argue that a high ranking Senator would beat out a Vice President, as a rook on a chess board is worth more than a bishop.  But then Vice President Pence, like a stretched spring or a boulder hovering above Wiley E. Coyote's head, is full of potential, just one too many buckets of KFC away from the most powerful position in the land, if not the world.

Of course, Vice President looked pretty powerful when he was in the DMZ last week, staring down North Korean guards in his totally sweet bomber jacket.  And, as Pence cannot actually land on the deck of a Submarine (at least this one, as it is currently inside the yard's building outfitting facility) much of speculation around this visit concerns that bomber jacket....i.e. will he wear it?

I know I'd be dissuaded from launching an ICMB with a look like that.

Probably not.  Typically at a Christening Cermemony if you are going to speak or be up on the VIP stage you really wear your best.  Not black or white tie, of course (who does that anymore), but The Navy Personnel on hand will be in their dress uniforms in full regalia, men wear their suits and ties and women wear dresses or....pantsuits.  Are we really still going with pantsuits?  We haven't come up with anything better?  Or at we at the point in our society where a suit is just a suit?

Anyway.  A bomber jacket would be a little out of place.  The toughness aspect of the thing would be welcome, but it really isn't in line with convention.  Pence is a pretty conventional guy, and I'd expect him to follow the rules.

But then this is an administration that doesn't really care much about the rules.  When Trump visited the USS Gerald R. Ford he didn't take his hat off inside the Carrier as he toured the mess decks, which is typically done.  He was in a place where hats, generally, are not worn; but there he was with a big old USA hat...in red no less.  Generally the Damage Control Department wears red hats so that you know...well, you know that something is going down if one of those guys goes running by.  So not only was he wearing a hat in a place he shouldn't have been wearing one, but he was wearing a color that generally should not be worn onboard ship unless you have a particular reason for doing so.

And then of course just last week wunderkinder Sarah Palin, Ted Nugent, and Kid Rock toured the white house.  Pictures surfaced of The Nuge and The Kid in the white house, leering in front of a portrait of Hilary Clinton along with The Chick, with their hats on.  They were not ball caps, sure, but they were still hats.  And then another picture, of the trio inside the oval office with Trump, and those two paragons of patriotism still have their hats on!!  

 Now listen.  Wearing a hat indoors is bad enough.  I was always taught that inside of a building, any building, if you are wearing a hat you take it off.  Pure and simple.  I have lost a lot of hats this way, incidentally, as in college a few times I took off a ball cap, put it under my desk, and then forgot to put it back on my head again when I left.  Truly.  It wasn't screwed on, so I forgot it.  I'd realize maybe an hour later that I didn't have it, and when I returned to the scene of the crime it was usually gone.

But that is the price one pays for decency.  I know a lot of people don't follow that rule anymore, just as most people don't follow any rule anymore unless they feel like it...but I would think, the White House, where the likes of Lincoln and Roosevelt have sat and made monumental decisions that affected our country, one would at least have enough respect to remove one's hat, hat hair be damned.

All that is to say, simply, that if the basic rules of hat etiquette are out the window, than anything is possible viz a viz Mike Pence and the bomber jacket.  Of course, one problem is that in April it can get rather hot in Hampton Roads, and I wonder what these guys are going to do when it gets warm and they still want to look tough?  I mean, you may be as tough as balls, but if it's 90 degrees and 80% humidity, you probably aren't going to wear a bomber jacket.  If I have a guess, they'll go with a Motorcycle Gang style cut, leaving the arms bare and cool but still telling all your enemies that you mean business.  Plus, there is the added bonus of having plenty of room for patches.  The overall effect:  Don't fuck with these guys, or we'll pop some cruise missiles in your keister.

As the current forecast high is 85 degrees in Hampton Roads on Saturday, I'll put a box of donuts on Mike Pence showing up in this bad-ass Commander in Chief cut.

President Trump visits der Schiffkraftwerk! Part II

INTRODUCTION

Thursday, March 2nd, dawned clear, cool, and windy.  There was a...palpable?  Sure, I'll go with it...palpable feel of excitement in Newport News.  I mean, you could actually reach out and just squeeze the excitement.  It was supple, full, and smooth, like the breasts of a ca. 1980's Playboy Playmate, hair held up with enough hair spray to puncture a small hole in the ozone layer above the little cornfed American town in Iowa where she grew up, emblematic of the time when Trump was King of Atlantic City and a rapscallion robber barron of Real Estate.

But my goodness how the times do change.  That is what someone pointed out to me on Thursday as I walked towards a meeting on the waterfront.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

The shipbuilder I was talking to nodded over towards the CVN 72, berthed in the James River, currently in the closing stages of its RCOH.  Every morning the ship puts music on its loudspeakers while the crew carryout their cleaning stages, shop vac and broom replacing Captain Aubrey's Holystones.  "When I was in the Navy, no one spoke Spanish," he said.  "Now the CVN72 is playing whole songs in Spanish".  I listened a little closer and he was right.  "You see," he said again, sheer happiness spreading across his face "times do change."

"Yes," I answered.  "Sometimes for the better."

In this day and age it seems that every act can be interpreted as a political act.  I don't know how the CVN72 picks their music (it isn't always Spanish...one morning it was Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper", with extra cowbell), and I'm not suggesting it was a dig at Trump.  It very likely was little more than a coincidence.  But I found it, nevertheless, an interesting counterpoint to the day, and to the man due to arrive that afternoon.

REPORT

And so he did.  A few minutes before 13:00 there was the massive "fwhomp-fwhomp-fhwomp" that signaled the arrival of millions of rivets flying in formation, three V-22 Ospreys and two Marine Ones, some carrying Trump and his entourage, the others empty, presenting a befuddling shell game to any intrepid would-be-terrorist.  ISIS scientists are wise to it, and apparently have been playing endless versions of a five shell two pebble game of "find the pea", trying to get down into the American psyche and find any discernible patterns.  Luckily, nothing to show for it so far.

Hats off in the Wardroom!!  What, is he cold or something? 

Those of us not at the event all ran to the windows of our buildings like school children to see the huge craft (and the Ospreys truly are gigantic).  The lucky few (about 2500 shipyard workers) at the event all let up a boisterous cheer.  They had been there since around 10:00, milling about in the ship's hangar bay, squeezed in between Sailors and Press.  They had been subjected to long replays of Foghat's "Slow Ride" until an astute officer on the CVN78, professional as always, pointed out that to continue to do so who would constitute a most grievous violation of the Geneva Conventions.  So they switched to Zeppelin, which went down a lot smoother.  The fact that both bands were British was not lost on the few Tories in the audience, still desperately clinging to the dream that America would realize the error of its ways after nearly 250 years of Independence, and come crawling back.

That slim sliver of hope was dashed when Trump, after touring the ship with the CO and other dignitaries, was lowered into the Hangar Bay on one of the Ford's massive aircraft elevators to the strains of Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA".  People everywhere felt a collective shiver in their spine, a great disturbance in the Force, as the muses of taste and tact once again screamed aloud in terror, and were suddenly silenced.  That song certainly has legs.  You'd think over the last 37 years we would have come up with something better.  But no.

Trump arrived wearing a recently obtained aviators jacket that made his hands look a little small and a CVN 78 Gerald R. Ford hat pulled low over the eyes, which he had wisely substituted for the red USA hat he was seen wearing after getting off Marine One (and also onboard ship in round table discussion).  To some he looked tough.  To me, he looked more like a baseball manager.

Trump Calls for a Squeeze Play.  Bold Leadership from a Bold Man.  Photo by the New York Times

He stepped up the podium and gave....well, it was a speech. He stood up, he looked sort of Presidential, gave a second grader's cliffnotes report on the Battle of Midway, and he managed not to say anything too stupid. An atypical politician giving a typical speech, as the Pod Save America guys said of his Grand Address to Congress on Tuesday.  There is a reason that Trump's secret service call sign, apparently, is "The Dancing Bear."

We were all very impressed.  He did say that he wanted to build more ships, and more planes, and more boats, and that it was all going to come "very soon."

Oh Trump, you silly, silly man.  One does not simple open the tap and get more ships.  Though the additional money proposed would certainly help.  Sequestration hasn't really caused a lot of job loss in the Shipbuilding industry, at least at NNS, but it has certainly made the work there more difficult, and made the workers more frustrated.  There is not enough money to do the things that the Navy is wanting to do.  It just isn't there.  So I don't necessarily oppose additional spending for naval assets.  I do think that the idea of stripping down other programs (among them the state department and foreign aid, those things put in place to help avoid having to go to war in the first place) seems, to me, to be incredibly short sighted.

Anyways, after 16 minutes of speechifying it was all over.  He got back on the elevator, was raised up (thankfully) to the flight deck, and then he and his merry men fwhomp fwhomp fwomphed away.

ANALYSIS and CONCLUSION

The intent of the speech was to highlight the $54 billion increase in defense spending Trump had asked for in his address to congress.  It think it was also an optics thing.  On the heels of the Tuesday speech, in which the bear managed to dance for over an hour, this should have been an easy win.  Nobody appropriates military hardware for his own grandeur while simultaneously distancing himself from responsibility of sending our military into the fight better than our President, at which the buck stops here, or there, or maybe over there.  Maybe one day he will get it.  Right now he doesn't.  A bust of Churchill in his office, indeed!

But the Ford speech was overcome by other events.  March 2nd was also the day that Jeff Sessions became fully embroiled in questions concerning his contacts with the Russian Ambassador to the point where ultimately he had to recuse himself from any further investigations over Russia, which now seem likely to continue.  As of this morning Trump tweeted that Obama wiretapped Trump Tower after the election and before the inauguration, without offering any proof of those allegations.  It's hard to know what to make of THAT, exactly.  I can conceive of various intelligence agencies doing so as part of the their own investigations, but to put that on Obama's head directly (who seemed and seems to me very, very careful to stay out of the the current fray) is bad, and only gives credence to those saying that Obama is trying to somehow have a soft coup and take over the government.  It's amazing to me how the spectre of Obama and..just the naked fear and hate so many people have of him continues to haunt our country - and maybe even our leadership.  Let it go my friends.  Just let it go.

Oh, and he also took a moment to mourn the death of  The Apprentice, which is being cancelled. Christ.  So much for looking, acting, and being Presidential.  Maybe the Bear can't dance after all.

Trump may still well get his money to rebuild the military.  But I would say that, aside from the people at Newport News Shipbuilding, this speech has already been well forgotten, a mere blip in yet another rough news cycle for a troubled administration.

Ultimately, Trump will not be judged on these sorts of silly events, but rather on what he actually does.  So far, in the grand scheme of things, he's done very little.  I fear that if he doesn't pull it together, his administration will be a full stop failure.  While it would raise the prospects of him getting voted out in four years (which so far I would support), there gets to be a point where failed leadership will hurt us all.

POST SCRIPT

Though it won't hurt my prospects for the musical I am working on, simply called "TRUMP!  The Musical".  In the Second Act, Trump goes aboard the Ford and he sits down to the round table discussion, a group of sailors sing an extended aside:

***

SAILOR ONE:  Look at that big shot over there.  

SAILOR TWO:  Yeah, look at him.

SAILOR ONE:  I mean, doesn't he know that you got to...

Music begins, sort of a peppy kind of pop rock high school musical thing

SAILOR ONE (singing):

You got to take your

Hat off in the Wardroom!

You got to take your

Hat off for chow!

You got to take your

Hat off in the Wardroom, yeah

SAILOR TWO (joining in):

You know it's so rude

And he's being so crude 

Yeah, you got to take your

SAILOR ONE, SAILOR TWO, and CHORUS:

Hat off!  Hat off!

Yeaaaahhhhh you got to take your

Hat off! Hat offfffffff......

You got to take it off!

***

It's a work in progress.  For now, I'd call it a sort of tragi-comedy.  Or is it a comi-tragedy.  Not sure.
 

President Trump Visits der Schiffkraftwerk! Part I

So yesterday we found out, via company email, that the Shipyard is going to be hosting President Donald Trump on Thursday.  As of blog time not too much is known about the visit other than he will be on the as yet to put to sea USS Gerald R. Ford and he expected to say...something.  Probably.

"Will he bringing donuts with him?" was my first question to upper management.  I still maintain that no amount of donuts would get me to vote for Donald Trump...at least for now, based on the first 40 some odd days of his administration.  But it would still be pretty cool if he was out there at 5:30 AM, handing out donuts and shaking hands.  I know I would appreciate that.  Unfortunately, based on what I know of the man, he stays up late watching cable news to see how he himself is viewed by pundits and people, and it would probably be difficult to get him up quite so early in the morning.  So much the better.  "Trump Triumph's over Adversity; Awakens early to Deliver Donuts" would be a great headline.  And it would be a great story to tell your grand kids someday, about what life was like before the war.

But more important for Trump, no doubt, is the optics of the whole thing.  How do you make someone who has heretofore served almost no cause other than himself look impressive while humbly serving at the behest of the peoples?  How do you convey to everyone that this man is the real dope shit?  How do you convince everyone that he is Big League? Simply strolling out onto the flight deck or a hangar bay might have worked for George H.W. Bush, because as a veteran of World War II and a long time public servant he already had the necessary gravitas.  But for Trump it simply will not do.  Gravitas must be upgraded into solid gold plated magnificence.  

So I imagine, in a great flash of brilliance, he looked around at his aides over lunch and said "Wait a minute now.  It's an aircraft carrier, right?"

"Well....yes sir, it is, technically."

"Why don't we put an aircraft on it?"

So hence we have Option 1, shown in Figure 1 below.  In this option, Trump lands on the flight deck of Gerald R. Ford aboard Marine One, perhaps flanked by a couple of V-22's or maybe even some Harriers, which would just be wicked awesome.  Consider your most greenest, pacifistic, cupcakey liberal alive who would just as soon take our carriers and turn them into giant floating carbon neutral hemp co-ops; I'll wager if you put them in the vicinity of a Harrier doing a vertical take off or landing, that even they would have to utter "Oh my God that is just....it's just so fucking cool!"

Figure 1:  Trump Arrives on Marine One, with Musical Accompaniment.  Harriers and/or V-22s not shown.

And of course some kind of music would be playing.  Maybe the theme from Air Force One or the opening music for "Glory" with the choir and the drums and such, while the people picked for the event stand on the flight deck with their flags and an honor guard waits at attention.  It would all be quite grand and stirring, reflecting on the magnificence of Trump, his administration, his incredible election victory, and his beautiful (and sizable, he might add) hands.

The irony in this is that Marines, piloting Marine One, Harriers and/or V-22 Ospreys, would be the first to land aircraft aboard a Ford Class Carrier, something that I am sure the Marine Corps will never let Naval Aviation ever, ever forget.

But there are some aides that remember the last time a sitting President landed on an Aircraft Carrier, and how that President's latest and greatest feat of arms devolved into a god awful shitty mess shortly thereafter.
So we have Option 2, as shown in Figure 2, in which Trump actually jumps out of Air Force One and parachutes onto the flight deck with a huge American Flag flying as various fireworks are zinging and banging through the air and the 1MC plays some variation of  "Rock Flag and Eagle" by Charlie Kelly.  Maybe with the Flying Elvises, maybe not; their loyalty to the present administration remains uncertain.

Figure 2:  Trump Arrives via Parachute and Musical Accompaniment.  Flying Elvises Not Pictured

If you question the wisdom of letting a 70 year old man jump out of a perfectly good airplane, let me remind you that Trump is in the most magnificent, most excellent health, perhaps the best health of any President ever.  Lincoln?  Constipated.  Horribly, horribly constipated.  Trump?  You can set your watch by him, like a grand old clock. He may be 70, but he feels like he's 39 (not 40 mind you, but 39, as John Oliver noted in a recent issue of Rolling Stone).  So no worries.  Trump's got this.  Just like he's got the Country.

But even parachuting out of a plane just may not be enough to really show us Trump's vision of our nation in the world.  So we at last come to Option 3, in which the mighty ship is raised out of the James River by Trump's incredible mind power, kind of like Yoda only better, and placed on a Hyuge Transporter, and wheeled at the end of a Triumphant Trump Triumph parade, with a statute of ol' "Fire on the Uproll" Trump on the bow, in full naval regalia (including the hat!), saber drawn, leading us into war and onwards to eternal victory.

Figure 3:  Trump Triumphant!

Against whom?  That, my friends, is the question, though I think I remember Bannon saying the South China Sea is awfully nice this time of year.

I'm sure excited.  As for me, my money is on Option 2.      

In Which Nick Answers 40 Stupid Questions About Himself

There is always some sort of "answer questions about yourself" thing going around on facebook, because your friends obviously don't know enough about you as it is.  Leave no stone un-turned!  Let everything come to the light!

I usually don't go for them, but I saw one today and I figured what the heck?  I've been looking for something to write about lately that isn't books or Trump, so why not myself?  It worked for Montaigne.

So, without further ado....

1. Do you like Blue Cheese?  Only if it's Blue Cheese dressing, and then only if its being dipped into by a buffalo wing.  So I guess the answer is....no, not really.

2.  Do you smoke?  About once a year I will have a cigar, provided I have forgotten they taste like shit.  About half way through I will begin to regret my decision, and wonder how I could have been fooled yet again into thinking that smoking a cigar would actually be a pleasurable experience.  So....no, not really.

3.  Do you own a gun? Maybe I do, maybe I don't.  Knock at my door at 2AM and see.

4.  What flavor Kool-Aid?  Grape.  I used to drink grape kool-aid all the time on the Appalachian Trail, double strength, enough to make YOU want to run through walls and say "Awwwww Yeah!" or whatever that dude said.

5.  Do you get nervous before a Doctor's Appointment?  Not usually, unless there are needles involved, or we are going to talk about depression and suicidal thoughts (which is never easy), or my ears are about to be irrigated, or I have to get any blood drawn, or if the visit involves dropping my pants in anyway.

So....yes.

6.  What do you think of hot dogs?  You should never put ketchup on a hot dog if you are over the age of 12.

7.  What is your favorite movie?  Well, I would normally say Master and Commander, because I find it is a movie I can watch many times and not really get tired of.  I like the feel of it, and the look of it, and the general plot.  Though the more I watch  it the more I find little things that about it that annoy me, like how the actors are trying to fake playing the cello and violin and just a couple of hitches in the acting that I think are awkward and hokey and silly.

Now, if I was judging things on purely cinematic merit, I would have to say Braveheart, which is probably the greatest movie ever made in a technical sense.  But I've soured on Mel Gibson...

Tom Hanks is always good.  Saving Private Ryan is an excellent movie, though very hard to watch.  Forrest Gump, now, my Dad thinks that is the greatest movie ever made and it's hard to disagree.  But that's HIS favorite movie and I don't really want to have a favorite movie that someone else has...it should be more unique.

So I am going to go with One Crazy Summer, where a bunch of kids fight to keep developers from building on top of their grandma's house or something like that.  Or is that Happy Gilmore?

Hmmm...

Let me get back to you on that one.

8.  What do you prefer to drink the morning?  Scotch.  Or Coffee.  But never at the same time.

9.  Can you do a push up?  I can do like 13 of them bitch, all in a row.  24 if I let me knees touch the ground.

10.  What is your favorite piece of jewelry?  I am rather partial of my wedding ring.  I got it because the pattern reminds me of the texturing in Van Gogh's paintings of Cypress Trees that he did while he was in a mental institution near Paris.

What that has to do with marriage I don't know.

11.  Do you have a hobby?  You're looking at it bucko.

12.  Do you have ADHD?  This would be a good time to insert a joke about how I am writing my answer but am then distracted by something shiny or a squirrel or something like that.  But I won't give you the satisfaction.

Though interestingly, did you know that Germans have a really tough time with the word squirrel?  It's a fact!

What were we talking about?  Oh right, I....dammit!

13.   Do you wear glasses?  Mmmm hmmm.

14.  Who was your childhood idol?  Roberto Clemente, outfielder for the Pittsburgh Pirates, 3000 regular season hits.  Died trying to save others.

15.  For some reason there is no question 15, at least on the facebook feed I am looking at.  So I am not sure how to handle this one.  Let's move on to the next.

16.  Three drinks you usually drink?  Coffee.  La Croix Coconut Water.  Gypsy tears.

17.  Current Worries?  I think, when I am sitting still, I can slowly feel my teeth shifting around in my head.

18.  Things I hate?  I fucking hate Mannheim Steamroller and Trans Siberian Orchestra.  And it's because of their Christmas Music.

Trans Siberian Orchestra Christmas music is the kind of thing you would listen to if you were celebrating Christmas by attacking the Death Star or assaulting Sevastopol (which the British did, actually, during the Crimean War, thinking the fact that the soldiers were fighting on Christmas would give them a little boost in morale).  But that to me isn't Christmas.

Mannheim Steamroller because I think their music is cheesy but when you see them in a parade or something they are obviously grooving on it pretty hard.  The fact that anyone could get down to that sort of thing, could actually listen to it and say "woah man, that's far out.  You know who wrote this?  I did.  Isn't it cool?" makes me lose faith in humanity for a short time.

Mannheim Steamroller.  You'd think, considering their great success, that they would be able to afford better shoes.

19.  Favorite Place to Be?  You kidding?  Whether it's coming in at 2 AM to launch a new submarine, standing out on the shop floor waiting for something to arrive so that something can be fixed so that maybe something will happen today, or sitting hunched over a keyboard staring into the depths of a thrice rolled over spreadsheet while I take a sip from a another cup of coffee that closely resembles bunker fuel, there is no where I would rather be than working at Newport News Shipbuilding, where we build the most kick-ass ships the world has ever seen and we have a wonderful time doing it!

Why yes, I did recently apply for a promotion.  Why do you ask?

20.  How did you ring in the New Year?  I was asleep.  I didn't even try to stay awake.  My wife and I called game over at 10:30.

21.  Where would you like to go?  I've always wanted to go visit the landing sites for the Invasion of Normandy.

22.    Name three people who will do this?  Well, I know Donald Trump likes to talk about himself so I imagine he will do one, if he can sit still long enough to focus and keep his eye off the telly.  I think Don Draper from Mad Men would maybe do one but then crumple the paper in the trash before posting it.  And my neighbor Suvatjana, who comes from Upper Malakvia and doesn't speak English so good.

23.  Do you own slippers?  Fuck no.  But in spite of the emphatic negative, I think I kind of wish I did.  At least in the winter.

24.  What color is your shirt?  It's dark blue with white lettering.  Many of my shirts, actually, are dark blue with white lettering.

25.  Do you like sleeping in satin sheets?  Yes, but only in the nude.  Otherwise what's the point?

26.  Can you whistle?  I can whistle extremely well.  Annoyingly well.  Most Marickovich men, actually, can.  I've got good range, and excellent pitch.  Not very loud -- I won't be able to call a dog or get your attention from across a grassy knoll, or even cat call a beautiful woman over the clatter of Smitty's jackhammer (but who does THAT anymore).  But if you want someone to whistle the main melody lines of Bach's 3rd Keyboard Concerto in D major, with a bit of counterpoint to boot, well, I am your man.

27.  Where are you now?  Home.  What kind of a question is that?

28.  Would you be a pirate?  Depends.  If you are talking modern day Somali type pirates, then the answer is no.  If you are talking more of the Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow variety, I'd be willing to think about it if you threw in an official pirate hat.

29.  What is your favorite color?  Blue....no, wait.....AAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!

30.  What is something you are afraid of?  Cows.  They are big, stupid, lumbering beasts that step on your toes and shit on your lunch without thinking twice, and they just stare at you with those big black eyes, eyes like a dolls eyes, and chew their cud, completely unafraid of you.  And you just wonder....what are they thinking?  Do they know that one day I am likely to be eating one of them? Are they wondering perhaps if the tables could be turned, maybe how best to serve a fillet of Marickovich - medium rare perhaps, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes, washed down with a nice beer served at a bar by a strapping bull with a trendy nose ring through his nose?  I wonder....

31.  Favorite Foods?  One of my favorite things to do is take a tortilla and wrap it around some cheese and just stick in the microwave for about 45 seconds till the cheese is all melty.  Almost any cheese will do, except for blue cheese which I think we deduced earlier I in fact do not like.

Other than that, macaroni and cheese, and peanut butter.  Not at the same time of course.

Although....

32.  What's in your pocket?  My wallet, $5, and a knife.  Everything you need to have an interesting night out.

33.  Last thing that made you laugh?  Probably a joke my co-worker told me.  But I can't remember what it was about.

34.  What is your favorite Animal?  Boom.

35.  What is your worst injury?  I rolled over my pinkie finger once playing soccer, and pretty much broke it.  Didn't seek medical attention, just got a mountain man with beaver blood on his work boots to reset it after drinking a big slug of Canadian Jack Whisky.  It turned black but I just put a little bit of Dr. Carruther's Wonder Elixir on it and after a few months the swelling went down.  Oddly, it's never been the same since.

36.  How many TV's in your house?  In reality only one.  Though every screen is a TV these days.  So if you count the smart phones, the computers, the tablets, and the TV itself....6.  Not enough really for a man cave (especially as not all of those screens are mine), but its a start.

37.  Worst Pain?  See that?  See that?  Marie Ann Moffett....she broke my heart!

38.  Do you like to dance?  Only if I am at a wedding, because everyone will remember the bride and groom and no one will remember that awkward man strutting around with his limbs all akimbo and his hips gyrating in a disturbing manner, like he was some kind of wounded bird.  The open bar, if there is one, usually helps. Otherwise, I really don't like to dance at all, much to my wife's chagrin, who is a wonderful dancer.

39. Are your parents living?  Yes, and they are well, thank you.  Though they will probably not be happy with the amount of curse words I put in this one.  But as they used to say in the back parlors of 18th century Paris...

40.  Favorite Book?  I got a lot out of The Brothers Karamazov, which I think is probably the best book ever written.  Though for sheer readability I would go with Krakauer's Into Thin Air or Harbach's The Art of Fielding.  Also would put The Crimson Petal and the White by Faber on the list. These are books I could read over and over again, which is something I don't normally do.   

But if there was a best history book category the prize would go to Fred Andersen's book about the Seven Years War, Crucible of War, which was masterful from start to finish.  Even the footnotes were worth reading.

Books You May Not Like -- Steel Boat, Iron Hearts, by Hans Goebeler, with an assist by John Vanzo

This is the story of one man's (Hans Goebeler's) experiences in the Kriegsmarine as a U-boat crew member, specifically aboard the U-505.  The U-505 has some distinction, not necessarily for it's combat record but rather because it was captured by a US Hunter Killer Group (a naval squadron made up of carrier based aircraft and destroyers, created to run U-boats to the ground and sink them or take them a prize) and is currently at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago.  It is one of the few boats to actually survive the war...and Hans Goebeler was one of only 8,000 (out of about 38,000) German submariners to survive the Battle of the Atlantic.

So Hans joins the Kriegsmarine in 1941 and manages to get into the submarine force by virtue of his skill, demeanor, and the fact that he was pretty short for a stormtrooper.  It's a pretty unflinching look at life inside a World War II Submarine.

I mean, imagine it...you and, oh, 55 of your closest friends are stuck inside a steel tube that is 200 feet long and (here is the kicker) about 14 feet wide, for about 3 months or so...maybe less if the shipyard workers of Lorient sabotaged the boat - which they did often.  You have no air conditioning, and you and all of your buds have to survive on the 64 gallons of water a day produced by the distillery units...enough water to cook and to drink, serve whatever mechanical needs are necessary, but not enough for anyone to shower.  Ever.

You like eggs?  I hope so.  You have to eat dozens of them before they go bad as all the food sort of starts to rot in the warm waters off the coast of Africa.  For the rest of your life, you will hate them; your love of eggs is the first casualty of the war, for you.

You play a deadly game of cat and mouse, your goal: to sink Allied merchant shipping.  But while you are hunting you are also hunted...allied ships ping you with acoustic sonar and try to sink you with depth charges, but even more frightening is Allied air power, looking for boats having to recharge batteries on the surface (U-505 was not equipped with a snorkel), which gets harder to avoid as the war goes on.

And so you patrol the seas, hopefully sink some merchant shipping, and pull back into Lorient with three months of stink and facial hair on you, victory pennants flying, your only thoughts of the companionship you will find in the red light district...

U-505 was not a lucky ship.  It had a couple moderately successful cruises, but its first skipper was relieved after sinking a sailing ship belonging to the President of Columbia (inducing them to declare War on Germany, which I am sure did the Allied cause a lot of good), and the second skipper never won the hearts of his men because he was a douche.  He wasn't very good at submarining either, and in over a year at the healm only sunk one or two ships.  But by 1943 the war was going against the Germans.  The U-boat fleet was subjected to incredible sabotage (I think almost through all of 1943 the U-505 only got out on an actual patrol once, where it was heavily damaged in the Carribean and yet still made it back to port...perhaps the most heavily damaged U-boat to ever make it back, a testament to the professionalism of the crew).  At last the skipper committed suicide on board, the only submarine skipper to do so while on duty.

And so it goes on.  Finally the boat is captured by the US in June 4, 1944, the first enemy boat to be captured by the US Navy since the war of 1812.  The crew spends the rest of the war in America, at a prisoner of war camp I think in Louisana.  Because the US doesn't want the Germans knowing the boat was captured, the men's families are not notified that they are still alive (a violation of the Geneva Convention!! or at least so says Hans).  But finally the war ends and they are allowed to write home again.  Hans and his crew were transfered to Scotland, where they broke rocks as penance until 1947, when at last they were allowed to return to Germany.  All were required to disavow the Government, but Hans, loyal to the end, jumps of the train and sneaks in to the country, loyalty intact.

And that is sort of the striking thing about this book.  Hans is completely unapologetic for serving in the Kriegsmarine during the war, and makes a point often of saying so.  I am not sure he really needs to be apologetic -- though most American readers will probably want to know how he reconciles his pride in serving in the U-boat fleet with the fact that he was fighting for Nazi Germany and what it stood for.  The answer is he doesn't, at least in the book.  I am not sure he mentions the plight of the Jews at all...he rather points out the devastation of the Allied air raids in Lorient and Germany, as well as the struggle against Communism which to him was paramount and got underway when he joined up in 1941.   As to his opinions on the many dark sides of the Nazi regime, well, we never are privy to those.

And if you also don't like a lot of "wink wink nudge nudge" here's what we did on the Rue Pastorale, you probably won't like this book.  Hans recounts his many adventures ashore with something a bit of "these were the best days of our lives" lavisious glee...though he never goes into the details (though there is one rather hilarious story that actually takes place on the boat when this guy, he...).  He had a very good time.  But I don't begrudge him that -- if you or I were young and single and had to spend two months or more in a steel tube with rotting food and shit in buckets, pulling boring duties punctuated with sheer terror, I imagine we might well behave the same.  I actually am sure I almost certainly would have.  After a while though, it does kind of get old.  It's like "yes, Hans, we get it, we get it.  You fucked a lot of women, and you drank a metric tonne of booze."  It's like the opening scene from Das Boot replayed many, many times over.  But hey, that's the way it was.

Before you write off Hans as a Nazi playboy, you should also know that he and his shipmates served with honor and devotion, or at least as much honor as one could under the circumstances, as most naval men always have. They made it a practice to cripple a ship and then make sure most of the enemy sailors aboard had gotten off before sinking it, after which they rendered what aid to survivors they could.  Not much, but a bit of food and water before slipping away.  He also moved to America after he retired from work in Germany, to Chicago to be with his beloved boat, and was instrumental in getting veterans of the U-505 and the men from the US Navy who captured the German sub together, where none showed any will will towards the other, even though its not unlikely that the men sitting across the table from Hans killed some of his friends on other boats.  The kind of binding up, that sort of coming together, is a lesson to us all, I'd say, as is Hans pride in his service.

So yes.  If you are interested in what it was like to be on a World War II submarine, this is a rather good book.  It's a quick read, a straightforward account, and it gives a different perspective on the war in total.  

 

Mike Pence was the Commander in Chief for 53 Sweet Seconds

I know we are all talking today about Trump, and the speech, and what he did or did not say or do.  And I will too, in a moment.

But first -- did anyone else notice that Pence was the De-facto President for 53 seconds?

Pence was sworn in around 11:56 AM, after which the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sang a patriotic tune and there were some handshakes and hugs up on the stage.  As 11:59 approached I started watching the clock very closely, because as of 12 noon the Obama Administration was no more; there was a new sheriff in town and his name is Donald JOHN Trump.  Never knew what that J stood for.  Julius, I think, would have a more fitting, Imperial ring about it.

But not so fast!!!  As of noon Trump had yet to be sworn in.  As he had not yet taken the oath of office, he could not be the President.  He started the oath slightly after 12 and was officially sworn in as of 12:00:53. So for 53 seconds we really didn't have a president.  But we did have Vice President Pence.

I'm not up on my Constitutional Law (though I guess we all should be, as Americans, right?), so I am not sure if the absence of a President makes Pence the President or just vests him the powers thereof;  but either way I am sure that for 53 seconds there Pence was, in effect, the most powerful man in the world.

That's one for the refrigerator door, I'd say.

On His Way to 53 Seconds of Glory

So obviously I did watch the inauguration.  I clocked out for a moment at work and put on CNN (I haven't watched or even been to the CNN website since the election, as part of a one man CNN boycott, because I think they only serve to fan the flames of our discontent with headlines like "Senator Eviscerates President on Health Care Policy" and "Cruz Slams Trump on Barbecue, says KC Style is Best".  It's too much.  A lot of this mess is their fault), and I watched Trump take the oath and give his speech.  I have....a couple comments.

First, the Invocation.  I know as a nominal Christian I shouldn't be bothered that all three prayers (THREE) were Christian in nature, one explicitly evoking the name of Jesus Christ several times.  But as a person who believes in a pretty strict separation of Church and State I was, of course, unhappy.  Yet even as a Christian I was sort of bothered by it too.  A life lived in Christ is among many things a life lived in humility before God.  Wedding Jesus to the State, asking him to bless us so that we might be strong and wealthy and powerful (so that we might be Rome, who crucified Him) seems the opposite of humility.

Second, the speech:  An eloquent speech it was not...I imagine he was proud of the simile comparing boarded up factories to tombstones - I wonder how long it took for him to come up with that one as he lounged around Maro Largo over the Holidays.

But the speech, to me (and I don't say this lightly), had just a whiff of Fascism about it.  I'm not sure exactly why.  Maybe it was the repeated extolling of nationalism, this idea that a renewed pride in our nation and a new spirit of Patriotism will unite us.

America has never been an end in itself. It means something. It has always striven towards Liberty.  It has done so imperfectly, without doubt, but it has always reached for something better than itself.  Now it just seems Trump wants us to be united not by our values but by a love of America in and of itself...but love of country takes many different shades and people love this land for very different reasons (or they don't love it for various reasons).  Which makes me think that the only way to unite in love of country is to put the State on a pedestal, to make the State the most important thing and subsume all values to its Glory.  That, ladies and gentlemen, is fascism -- or at least its what fascism means to me.

Not saying that Trump is a fascist (though he does sort of look the part of a strongman).  And that is perhaps not what he meant to convey.  In fact I am sure it is not what he meant to convey.  But there is something about this speech that I found deeply unsettling. Only time will tell if those misgivings are rooted in any sort of reality.

Just remember folks:  Trump eats Doritos, just like you and me.  We are in good hands.  Good hands covered in nacho cheese flavoring.    

In Which a Clumsily Rendered CGI Nick Discusses Rouge One :: MODERATE SPOILERS!

In what has become a New Years Day tradition, I drove into Hampton and plunked my sweet ass down into the theater to watch a movie.  Don't quite do it every year, but I try my best.  Why?  Because without the cement of tradition, our lives would be as shaky as...

This year's choice was Rouge One, which remains the number one movie in America two weeks in a row and, despite some less than great reviews from the critics, it has been, I think, well received by my friends.  I saw the end credits roll about three hours ago, I've since had some nachos and a coffee (which is not a great combination, in all honesty), and I think I am ready to share some thoughts.

The Venue:  I chose my local IMAX 3D multiplex.  I made the mistake of wearing my thick framed poets glasses and the 3D glasses juuuuuuuust barely fit over them.  That's a lot of hardware to wear on one's face for two hours, but those are the sacrifices one must make for art.

The sound system was just....spine shatteringly loud.  And that bring me to....

The Previews

I noticed the sound system was spine shatteringly loud because each and every single preview began with a load, deep "BOOM" that made every atom in my body vibrate at a low resonance, threatening to tear the very fabric of my body into pieces.  This was true even of the previews for movies that probably didn't really need a BOOM to herald their future existence, like some silly movie where Alec Baldwin voices a baby who talks and....I dunno, wants to take over the world or trade stocks or something.

The only preview that really made my blood quicken was for "Dunkirk", naturally.  I'm going to see that when it comes out.

At last, time for

The Show

It begins in a time long ago in a Galaxy far, far away.  And I'm waiting for the iconic accent of the orchestra and the blaring of the horns and that big old beautiful Star Wars logo scroll across the screen in full, voluptuous IMAX 3D BUT....

That doesn't happen.  The movie just starts.  And I was very confused.

But not for long.  I got back with it.  The plot is a pretty good one, and I will summarize it with a simple question or two:  Have you ever wondered how it was that the biggest, most deadliest weapon in the Galaxy could be taken down by a bunch of snub nosed fighters flying down a trench and shooting a pair of photon torpedoes?  Have you ever wondered WHY exactly those snub nosed fighters had to fly ALL the way down that trench?

This movie doesn't provide a convincing answer to the second question.  But it does provide an answer to the first.  One of the scientists who built the Death Star did so under durress, and he built the exhaust port flaw into its design as an act of sabotage.  If he can smuggle the plans out to the Rebellion, they will have the means to launch an attack that will destroy it.  He sends out a feeler message with a willing Imperial cargo pilot, and the Rebel Alliance finds his daughter Jyn, whom he has been separated from for....years.  16 years?  Maybe?  Hard to say.

The Rebels rescue her from an imperial work camp...how they figure out where she actually is and the story behind the mission to get her, I guess, will be another opportunity for another prequel.  She is able to in turn reunite with Forrest Whitaker, sees a hologram of her father brought to him by the cargo pilot, and learns that the structural plans that detail the flaw are on some tropical like planet that kind of looks like Guam, though with not as many Japanese people or seedy strip clubs.    

A big ass battle ensues and the Rebels get the plans.  For a moment it seems the Rebels are going to flake out, but Jyn gives an impassioned speech that manages to convince just enough people to take a chance that the plans are on this planet, and they go in with a plan that make the Expendables look like the fucking Duke of Wellington himself (i.e. there was no plan...less than no plan, actually, if that's possible.  Like a negative plan).  But Rebellions are based on Hope, so....

Yeah.  They get it done.  

A Specific List of my Beefs

Here is the fun part, where I get to point out each and every thing that I found wrong with this movie.  Take a deep breath.....

The Guv:

Governor (or Grand Moff) Tarkin, who features in Episode IV as played by Peter Cushing, makes a reappearance in this film.  Unfortunately, Peter Cushing died in 1994.  Rather than exhume his corpse or try to reconstitute his ashes, the whiz kids at Lucasfilm decided to CGI him back into the movie.

The effect is....not great, though it is an impressive effort.  For some reason we can CGI Transformers and Damn Dirty Apes and even squid people like the one that shares an Imperial cell with Jyn at the start of the film, but we can't CGI a human and make them look really real.  I'm not saying it was a crappy job - I'm just saying that even at its best (and it is pretty amazing), CGI still has its limits.  You CGI a human next to another human and have the two act with each other for more than three seconds, and the CGI guy, no matter how well done, starts to look like Abe Lincoln out of the Hall of Presidents.  They do a better job with a young Carrie Fisher at the end, but she is on for such a short duration that it works.

Oh - if anyone sees the movie again, check to see if the Grand Moff ever gets his feet shown in this movie. According to Wikipedia, of all things, Peter Cushing convinced George Lucas to let him act in slippers because the Nazi riding boots that all Imperials wear didn't fit well and hurt his feet (I only just found this out today, but a quick Google search assures me that I am one of the last to know).  So you never see his feet in "A New Hope".  It would be cool to see if they honored that in Rouge One.

Those Damn Stoopid Storm Troopers:  

I think all the tacticians in the Empire must have gone to Trump University for their courses in military science.  "Hey, you know what....we just sent that squad of storm troopers head long into that Rebel held defensive position, but it didn't work.  Like, everyone of them is dead or seriously injured.  What do we do guys?........Yeah Smitty, I agree.  Let's send another squad in just like before.  They'll never think we'd never try it for the fourth time."

Seriously, it's become a cliche, a joke. In Episode IV and V Storm Troopers at least struck fear and maybe a little perverse admiration into the hearts of the 10 - 14 year old boys they were supposed to impress.  You might remember that in Episode IV they take the Princesses ship, and in Episode V they successfully assault the rebel base at Hoth.  I think the Battle of Endor is where they start to lose some of their luster, start to look really, really bad at what they do.  But hey - it happens.  The Russians were beaten in Afghanistan, we were defeated in Vietnam; every super power has  a bad day at the office.

But now?  I think the guys that made this movie were actually making fun of how bad the troopers were.  It was like watching that scene in Indiana Jones where that swordsman does all that sword play to intimidate Indy and Indy just shoots the guy with a revolver, but not once but a thousand times, over and over again.  A bloody robot, a single robot, killed like whole Battalion while Jyn and Captain Cassian are getting the plans in the archives.  If there are to be more of these movies, we have to have the Storm Troopers perform better, because they are lousy villains at the moment.  You would never expect them to win in any engagement now. I think a movie from their point of view might actually be worthwhile.

And Speaking of Captain Cassian Andor

I kept waiting for him to say "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my faddah.  Prepare to die."

Was I the only one who noticed that he was the only person in an Imperial uniform with facial hair?  Like none of them, NONE of them, have facial hair in any of the movies.  No beards, no mustaches....not even really a decent set of sideburns.  Captain Cassian looked awfully suspicious walking around in an Imperial Officers digs with a 2 week beard on his face.  You think that would tip people off that something isn't right, that this guy might be an imposter.  But....well, see above.

Vader makes a Pun?

So Vader is choking the head Death Star Scientist who clearly wants to command his creation.  Vader (still voiced by James Earl Jones) quips, says something like "Be sure that you are not choked by your ambitions" before releasing him.

What what?  Vader, with a sense of humor?  And a bad one at that?  Unforgivable. The rebels are the ones who deliver the silly little one liners in any Star Wars film;  it makes them kooky and fun.  Loveable. Servants of the Empire do not tell jokes.  I'm sorry.  They just don't.  It makes them easier to hate.

The Score

It ain't John Williams.  It's like John Williams, its similar, there are familiar motifs and themes sort of modulated and such in the back ground.  But it rarely ever goes full blown Star Wars (except maybe during the last battle), and it just lacks that certain something....

The Verdict

Which sort of brings me to my conclusion.  This was a solid movie, an enjoyable film (I give it a B-, but I am hard to impress).  I like the fact that the Rebel Alliance is portrayed with a little bit of shade to it, filled with characters who have killed for what they believe in and carry that with them in the dark places of their hearts.  The obligatory protocol droid in this movie was actually my favorite of any of them - way funnier than C3PO and a bright spot of comic relief throughout a movie that needed it.

And the battle at the end...THIS is the space battle you have been waiting for, Star Wars fans. Absolutely incredible. Just as good if not better than the climatic battle in Return of the Jedi (though I did notice the absence of Wedge Antilles, even though I thought I heard his name).  Its not as iconic as the one in Episode IV (it is actually rather derivative of it), but it was still awesome to see, and something that hasn't been a part of the more recent movies.

But somehow, in someway, it seems like Star Wars lite, like it was a really good copy of a Star Wars movie but it wasn't quite as good as the real thing.  A knock-off German beer brewed in New Jersey. Louisville Slugers from Louisville, Colorado.  Replica Glocks. Implants.

And that I think is my worry for the franchise;  that like the Marvel movies these films will just become more and more ubiquitous and eventually they will all be mediocre and the same.