[Rhodes22-list] Berkeley East?

[Brad Haslett]

Rummy,

Outta here to go fly in cyberspace for a few hours.  I think I posted this
when it was first published after Katrina, but maybe not.  It was written
immediately after Katrina by a former fighter pilot who now works in
Hollywood as a writer.  His observations a week after Katrina are just as
valid now as they were in the immediate aftermath.  Yea, it is a long read
but worth it.

Brad

--------------------------
September 5, 2005 TRIBES

*(Folks, there's R-rated language throughout this thing. Normally I can edit
it out; this time, not so much. I may do so later, but now I want to leave
it as I wrote it.)*





 I�m generally an optimist, and it�s been my pleasure to be able to write
mostly about the good and the noble things in our lives. But the events in
the Gulf � of Mexico � have brought to a head a summer and a year that has
been getting progressively uglier and more painful to watch.

Who can not see the way the country has changed, not since 9/11, but before
that � since the 2000 election? Who cannot feel the split, the division,
that rips like a shredding sail on a broken mast, canvas tearing like the
sound of musketry, as the rigging falls to the deck?

This breaks my heart. It just breaks my heart into little pieces. I have
said less and less as I see more and more, because deep in my core I still
don�t want to believe that some Americans could willfully and consistently
do such destructive things out of such petty and base motivations, things
which in time will make the horrors of New Orleans look like a flea circus
in a small tent, with the much larger carnival raging unseen in the
background.

I�ve taken sides in these essays, obviously � that�s what I do. But I have
never, until now, felt the need to take the gloves off and really let fly. I
always feared I would regret it, later. I still do. Only now, I fear I will
regret it worse if I do not.

So now we must look at *Tribes*.





Now please pay attention to this, because I�m not going to state it again,
and if you don�t hear it now much mischief will follow:

I believe that the human animal � the raw material of our physical bodies �
is essentially interchangeable. By this I mean that I could take the
children of Fallujah and turn them all into Astronauts, convert Jewish
babies into fanatical, mass-murdering SS guards, and shake a generation of
the poorest Voodoo-worshippers in Haiti into a cadre of top-flight nuclear
physicists, chemical engineers and computer scientists.

Race has *nothing* to do with this � precisely nothing. The mobs of
murdering Hutus and swarms of slaughtering Serbs are as different racially
as it is possible to be, and they are cut from precisely the same cloth.

I know this is so because there have been murdering scumbags of every stripe
and color in the long history of the human race � *which is depressing* �
and that these animals, at any given time, represent only a small percentage
of the majority of people, also of every stripe and color � *which is not*.
There is no corner on virtue, and no outpost of depravity. Human hearts are
indistinguishable and interchangeable. Anyone who claims otherwise is,
without further argument or statements necessary, a complete God-damned
idiot.

Now, with that said � *have we all heard that loud and clear?* � there are
light-years of difference in how various Tribes will behave.

Only a few minutes ago, I had the delightful opportunity to read the comment
of a fellow who said he wished that white, middle-class, racist,
conservative cocksuckers like myself could have been herded into the
Superdome Concentration Camp to see how much *we* like it. Absent, of
course, was the fundamental truth of what he plainly does not have the eyes
or the imagination to see, namely, that if the Superdome *had* been filled
with white, middle-class, racist, conservative cocksuckers like myself, it
would not have been a refinery of horror, but rather a citadel of hope and
order and restraint and compassion.

That has nothing to do with me being white. If the blacks and Hispanics and
Jews and gays that I work with and associate with were there with me, it
would have been that much better. That�s because the people I associate with
� *my *Tribe � consists not of blacks and whites and gays and Hispanics and
Asians, but of *individuals* who *do not rape, murder, or steal.* My Tribe
consists of people who know that sometimes bad things happen, and that these
instances are opportunities to show ourselves what we are made of. My people
go *into* burning buildings. My Tribe consists of organizers and
self-starters, proud and self-reliant people who do not need to be told what
to do in a crisis. My Tribe is not fearless; they are something better. They
are *courageous.* My Tribe is honorable, and decent, and kind, and
inventive. My Tribe knows how to give orders, and how to follow them. My
Tribe knows enough about how the world works to figure out ways to boil
water, ration food, repair structures, build and maintain makeshift
latrines, and care for the wounded and the dead with respect and compassion.


There are some things my Tribe is not good at at all. My Tribe doesn�t make
excuses. My Tribe will analyze failure and assign blame, but that is to make
sure that we do better next time, and we never, *ever *waste valuable energy
and time doing so while people are still in danger. My Tribe says, and in
their heart completely believes that *it�s the other guy that�s the
hero.*My Tribe does not believe that a single Man can cause, prevent
or steer
Hurricanes, and my Tribe does not and has never made someone else
responsible for their own safety, and that of their loved ones.

My Tribe doesn�t fire on people risking their lives, coming to help us. My
Tribe doesn�t curse such people because they arrived on Day Four, when we
felt they should have been here before breakfast on Day One. We are
grateful, not to say *indebted*, that they have come at all. My Tribe can�t
eat *Nike*�s and we don�t know how to feed seven by boiling a wide-screen
TV. My Tribe doesn�t give a sweet God Damn about what color the looters are,
or what color the rescuers are, because we can plainly see before our very
eyes that both those Tribes have colors enough to cover everyone in glory or
in shame. My Tribe doesn�t see black and white skins. My Tribe only sees
black and white *hats*, and the hat we choose to wear is the most personal
decision we can make.

That�s the other thing, too � the most important thing. My Tribe thinks that
while you are born into a Tribe, you do not have to stay there. Good people
can join bad Tribes, and bad people can choose good ones. My Tribe thinks
you *choose* your Tribe. That, more than anything, is what makes my Tribe
unique.

*I am so utterly and unabashedly proud of my Tribe*, that my words haunt and
mock me for their pale weakness and shameful inadequacy.





Membership in my Tribe is not free.

I have been the first person at four accident scenes. I have crawled into
overturned cars on country roads, cars whose wheels were still spinning, and
gone on hands and knees through broken glass to comfort strangers while
uniformed policemen stood around outside and told jokes. I have put my
triple-knit polyester chauffeur�s blazer over an elderly black woman hit by
a bus and used my belt as a tourniquet to slow the dark spread of blood
widening beneath her badly broken leg, and been amazed, every time, at how
the sounds of approaching sirens seems to come almost before I have time to
hold her hand and tell her she�s gonna be just fine.

I say this not to glorify myself � on the contrary. I am embarrassed to
write such things. I am a pampered and lazy Hollywood TV editor who gets
paid insane sums of money to do a cake job while much better people than me
do this every day, for peanuts. There is nothing remotely heroic about me. I
simply do what millions and millions and millions of my fellow Americans do
every day, in ways large and small. They step up to the plate, not because
they want to be heroes, but because *someone has to do it*. These simple
people donate their time, their money, their food, their cars and their
houses every single day, and ask and expect nothing in return, while a few
miles away from me in Brentwood millionaire movie stars throw fabulous
parties to remind each other how swell they are, then waltz out into their
chauffeured limos with their tens or hundreds of millions of dollars firmly
in place, feeling good that they had the chance to really make a difference
by *raising awareness *of whichever cause they feel will most make up for
their feelings of inadequacy and guilt by showing both themselves and us
just how much better people they really are.

What kind of money could Barbra and Martin and Tim and Susan and Gwenneth
and George and Steven and Viggo and Linda and Harvey and Brad and Angelina
and Ben and all the rest � how much could they really put together, if they
actually believed what they say � not to mention the cash available to the
Malodorous Michigan Manatee of Mendacity? What kind of check could they
write? $500 million would be less than 10% of every outspoken celebrities'
combined wealth. That money could take every poor person in LA county and
put them into much nicer apartments than the one I live in. They could, at a
stroke, shame the President, the Congress, and the evil NeoCon warmongers by
putting every displaced person in New Orleans in a Marriott for a year. They
claim this is the kind of better human they have evolved into.

Why don�t they do it?

They don�t do it because that Tribe worships the golden statue of
themselves, that�s why. A church-going pharmacist in Des Moines would be
ashamed of herself for giving only 10% of her modest salary. But Sean Penn
can take himself, an entourage and a personal photographer � that�s three or
four people in a four-person boat � and show us all how incredibly big and
down-home he is by sailing off a few feet to rescue people, before the boat
sinks from the incompetence of failing to put in the drainage plug. He wore
a very nice white flak vest, instead of the pass� orange life preserver,
because getting shot at is a lot more macho looking, if a million or so
times less likely, than drowning because you went out into the water with a
*lead *vest rather than a *life *vest. It�s a scene in the trailer that runs
incessantly in their heads: *In a world run by evil corporations, a rebel
who plays by his own rules starts a deadly game of cat and mouse with an
all-powerful conspiracy in this searing portrait of extraordinary courage in
a life under siege, starring�me! *

I was actually ready to publicly commend the guy, until I heard about the
personal photographer. If he wanted to help people � and that�s all � he
could have paid for that boat, and a few hundred others, manned them with
reasonably competent recreational boaters, and sent out a flotilla. But no.
It�s not about having people saved. It�s about something else entirely. It�s
about having people saved *by Sean Penn.* That�s when I realized that
whether it�s the Murderous Regime in Iraq, or the Murderous Regime in Iran,
or the Murderous Storm in Louisiana�ultimately, it�s all about Sean Penn.
Peace Be Upon Him.

But thank God we have people like him, and the rest of that vain, useless,
smug, self-centered, incompetent, insecure and thoroughly *broken *Tribe to
point out the error of our ways.

I hate those sons of bitches with all of my heart. And the fact that so much
of our society has come to worship these shallow, egomaniacal *dolts *says a
lot about where we are, and none of it is good.






Now this next point is so obvious, so simple and so self-evident that there
is no way the deep thinkers of the far left will possibly be able to see it.


Let�s not talk about Black and White tribes� I know too many pathetic,
hateful, racists and more decent, capable and kind people of both colors for
that to make any sense at all. Do you not? Do you not know corrupt,
ignorant, violent people, both black and white, to cure you of this
elementary idiocy? Have you not met and talked and laughed with people who
were funny, decent, upright, honest and honorable of every shade so that the
very idea of racial politics should just seem like a desperate and divisive
and just plain *evil *tactic to hold power?

If such a thing is not self-evident to you, please get off my property.
Right now. I should tell you I own a gun and I know how to use it. I assure
you that the pleasure I would take in shooting you would be temporary,
minimal, and deeply regretted later.

Now, for the rest of you, let�s get past Republican and Democrat, Red and
Blue, too. Let�s talk about *these *two Tribes: Pink, the color of bunny
ears, and Grey, the color of a mechanical pencil lead.

I live in both worlds. In entertainment, everything is Pink, the color of
Angelyne�s <http://www.angelyne.com/hol/index.html> Stingray � it�s exciting
and dynamic and glamorous. I�m also a pilot, and I know honest-to-God rocket
scientists, and combat flight crews and Special Ops guys -- stone-cold Grey,
all of them -- and am proud and deeply honored to call them my friends.

The Pink Tribe is all about feeling good: feeling good about
*yourself!*Sexually, emotionally, artistically � nothing is off
limits, nothing is
forbidden, convention is fossilized insanity and everybody gets to do their
own thing without regard to consequences, reality, or natural law. We all
have our own reality � one small personal reality is called �science,� say �
and we Make Our Own Luck and we Visualize Good Things and There Are No
Coincidences and Everything Happens for a Reason and You Can Be Whatever You
Want to Be and we all have Special Psychic Powers and if something Bad
should happen it�s because Someone Bad Made It Happen. A Spell, perhaps.

The Pink Tribe motto, in fact, is the ultimate Zen Koan, the sound of one
hand clapping: EVERYBODY IS SPECIAL.

Then, in the other corner, there is the Grey Tribe � the grey of reinforced
concrete. This is a Tribe where emotion is repressed because Emotion Clouds
Judgment. This is the world of Quadratic Equations and Stress Risers and
Loads Torsional, Compressive and Tensile, a place where Reality Can Ruin
Your Best Day, the place where Murphy mercilessly picks off the Weak and the
Incompetent, where the Speed Limit is 186,282.36 miles per second, where
every bridge has a Failure Load and levees come in 50 year, 100 year and
1000 Year Flood Flavors.

The Grey Tribe motto is, near as I can tell, THINGS BREAK SOMETIMES AND
PLEASE DON�T LET IT BE MY BRIDGE.






Now, when things are going swimmingly, when the End of History has arrived,
as it did in the 90�s, having a Pink president (*careful!*) is no big deal.
In fact, it�s a downright advantage. He can be a goodwill ambassador, and
charm the pants (*you heard me!*) off of foreign dignitaries and have
everyone cooing and gushing about how swell Americans are once the fascists
are out of power.

Now, unfortunately for Pink Power, there remain in the world a few people
not impressed by this attitude.

Not long ago, National Geographic ran a really first-rate, 4-hour
documentary called *INSIDE 9/11*, as perfect an example as you could
possibly want of the power of a *real *documentary to enlighten and inform
without taking sides.

Watching it was horrible, especially for people like me, because we feel
like if we had only known what was going on *we could have done something
about it. *

A few weeks ago, a reader was kind enough to send me a link about a theory
and seminar called *The Bulletproof Mind*, written by Lt. Colonel Dave
Grossman. Just the small blurb I read enlarged my mental horizon by an order
of magnitude, because it clarified many of the confusing things I have been
feeling as so much of the country plunges deeper into irresponsibility,
fantasy, bitterness and delusion.

I excerpt a small portion of it here, without permission, in the hope that
those of you who are serious about surviving things like *Katrina* will go
here <http://www.gavindebecker.com/bulletproof_mind.cfm> and buy it.

Lt. Colonel Grossman, a far better man than me, a man who does things I only
talk about, writes in his introduction to *The Bulletproof Mind: *

*One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: "Most of
the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive
creatures who can only hurt one another by accident."*

*This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and
the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is
that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another.*

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

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

*I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty,
blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into
something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell.
Police officers, soldiers and other warriors are like that shell, and
someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.
For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.*

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

*"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to
protect the flock and confront the wolf." Or, as a sign in one California
law enforcement agency put it, "We intimidate those who intimidate others."*

*If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive
citizen: a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for
your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath--a wolf.
But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your
fellow citizens? Then you are a sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking
the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the
universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.*

He continues:

*Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves,
and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial; that is what makes
them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world.
They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire
extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their
kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed
police officer in their kid's school. Our children are dozens of times more
likely to be killed, and thousands of times more likely to be seriously
injured, by school violence than by school fires, but the sheep's only
response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone
coming to kill or harm their children is just too hard, so they choose the
path of denial.*

*The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf.
He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that
the sheepdog must not, cannot and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog
that intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and
removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a
representative democracy or a republic such as ours.*

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

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that,
an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir,"
when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys,
there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir,"
when there's trouble in the wind.

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

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

*While there is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, he
does have one real advantage -- only one. He is able to survive and thrive
in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.*

[Emphasis mine � BW]

And that is how I felt watching every minute of that 4 hour documentary.

*I could have done something.*

If I had known, if I had only *known*, I could have run over that evil, sick
son of a bitch Mohammed Atta in the parking lot. I could have been on one of
those airplanes. They only had *box cutters*, for the love of God! Those
seat cushions have straps on the back for floatation; they�d make excellent
shields against a goddam *two inch blade*. *Ladies, listen carefully�when I
say go, you throw your shoes and cell phones and these little liquor bottles
and cushions and whatever you can, just throw them right in the face of
these cocksuckers and guys, when we get up there we need to kill them, fast,
just break their fucking necks, just stomp on their heads until they are
dead, because I know how to land a goddam airplane and�and�*

Now of course, right at this moment there are people without honor or
courage who read that and think this is one big jerk-off chickenhawk fantasy
and on some level I guess it is. All I can tell you is that watching that
show, I wished to God I had been on one of those planes, asking only that we
knew what only Flight 93 knew, and that was the fate that was waiting for us
if we did nothing.

Because everybody dies. Even liberals. And all I can say is that I believe
in my heart that I would rather die for something bigger than myself than
lead a life where nothing is more important than* me*. I admit freely that
were I actually there I might freeze up, and wet my pants, and hide behind a
stewardess, because you can never really know until you are there. But my
times on the highways late at night, and with the only engine silent at 9000
feet over the South Georgia pine forests and at 400 feet climbing out of
Prescott Arizona on Christmas day reassure me, a little, that perhaps I
might do okay. Just as well as a common person, a common American person in
a crisis � that�s all I pray for.

Much has been said regarding how much more massive an event *Katrina* is
relative to lower Manhattan. But the fact remains that firemen went up the
stairs when people were coming down, and one ordinary group of people on an
ordinary flight on an ordinary day defeated the very best that the global
terror network could put together. Our ladies junior varsity squad whipped
the living shit out of their Super Bowl A-team over Pennsylvania that day,
and they did it because for one brief shining moment enough passengers on
that airplane went *Grey*.

And in Louisiana last week the governor cried and the mayor blamed everyone
but himself, and half the country bought every single stinking Pink lie
about global warming and missing National Guard units and blamed the
sheepdogs while the wolves raped and pillaged and looted everything in
sight.

Hundreds of New York firemen and policemen never came home, *never* came
home, but New Orleans Police Chief P. Edwin Compass III said, of his men, *�If
I put you out on the street and made you get into gun battles all day with
no place to urinate and no place to defecate, I don�t think you�d be too
happy either� Our vehicles can�t get any gas. The water in the street is
contaminated. My officers are walking around in wet shoes.�*

Well, Chief, I�m sorry your men�s feet are wet, but getting their feet wet
is *part of their fucking job*. New York�s Finest aren�t complaining about
wet feet or places to pee because they *died* doing *their* jobs. They were
sheepdogs.

Here <http://www.filecabi.net/v/file/hurricane-katrina-police-loot/wmv> is a
video of New Orleans finest helping themselves at WalMart.

So, on one hand, we have a very blue city � New York � confronted, out of
the clear morning of a perfect fall day, with no warning � with a terror
attack, and they march toward the sounds of screams and falling bodies and
die by the hundreds. On the other hand, we have New Orleans law enforcement
� also blue � whining about wet shoes and helping themselves to the happy
period of lawlessness that followed an event that had been expected for no
less than seventy-two hours.

In New York, we had a governor who got every available resource on the
ground as fast as it could get there, and in Louisiana we have a governor
who...cried. Governor, your job is to *not cry*. Your job is to be strong.
We have plenty of civilians crying. You want to cry, cry in the car on the
way home like everybody else did four years ago. Crying Governors,
race-baiting mayors and looting police do not a Finest Hour make.

In New Orleans we have a mayor who left some 400-500 buses sitting fueled
and underwater in the Ray Nagin Memorial Motor Pool saying that evil white
conservative America was selling out his people within 24 hours of the
catastrophe, from a safe and dry and adequately toileted location, while
four years ago we had a Mayor who ran to the site of the disaster so quickly
it is a full-blown miracle he was not killed when a building collapsed
literally on top of his magnificent, combed-over head.

Now, much has been made of the fact that Ray Nagin is an incompetent,
race-baiting black man, and Rudy Giuliani, who was neither, is white. Also,
feminists are upset that people dare attack Governor Blanco because she is
incompetent, weak, indecisive, and also a woman. And no doubt there are
salivating long-haired, short-cortexed idiots just waiting for this to be
over so they can sail into the comments section and tell me what a racist
and misogynist I am.

Well, here�s the news flash: Nagin isn�t incompetent because he�s black.
He�s incompetent because he�s incompetent. Condoleeza Rice is black. Colin
Powell is black. Ted Kennedy, a man well-acquainted with rising water crises
is as white as they come. Kennedy is incompetent; Rice and Powell are two of
the most competent people on the planet.

This is about tribes, all right: not black and white tribes, but rather a
battle between the *capable *and the *culpable*.

Same holds for Governor Blanco. She�s not weak because she�s a woman, or
because she�s a Democrat. Truman was a democrat. The Buck stopped
*there.*She�s weak and indecisive because that is the individual she
is. I wish
history could work with variables: I�d love to see what Margaret Thatcher
would have done in such a case. It would not only have been better, it would
have been *good*. That woman was *tough*. She could be Grey as granite. And,
for this, the Pink Tribe despises her.

Now it may come as a shock to those foreign luminaries who come to lecture
us on how an American city leveled by forces roughly equivelent to a nuclear
explosion reduce it to something "like a third world country."

This difference being lost on them seems to be this: in an American city
there is garbage on the streets and people wander around looking for food
and water, AFTER BEING LEVELED BY A CAT 5 HURRICANE, which is the storm
swell of the Dec. 2004 tsunami, plus winds, extending inland not for two or
three miles but for two or three HUNDRED MILES. In a third world country,
people living in stacks of garbage, searching for food and water happens
EVERY STINKING DAY. That is the NORM.

It may come as a bit of a shock to these worldly sophisticates, who are so
quick to point out how parochial and ignorant we simple folk are, that the
United States of America has local, state and federal governments! And that
this is the order in which *crises *are *dealt with!*

A person of some modest education might have remembered that the worship and
adulation fostered after 9/11 was for the NYPD and the FDNY. No one was
buying FEMA hats after 9/11, because FEMA is essentially a mop-up agency.
It's the first responders, the local governments, that will determine if a
city will live or die. The *State* -- that means, the "governor"-- has the
sole authority to mobilize the National Guard, and the governor of the state
of Louisana was not only slow to do that, she turned down NG assistance from
several OTHER states as well. The President does not have the *authority *to
drop precious egg salad sandwiches from Michael Moore's missing helicopters.
We do this ON PURPOSE. We limit the power of the federal government, as
those of us fortunate enough to have spent time in Civics, rather than Self
Esteem classes, are aware. This is so that we do not develop a central power
so strong that eventually we end up with idiot inbred royals, or *
Presidentes* for life, on the face of OUR money.

Now, if the critics on the far left are saying that George W Bush needs more
power, then by all means let's amend the Constitution before Hurricane
season ends. Me, I'm agin' it. I think the man has enough to do, really,
besides worry about how many water bottles need to be kept in the basement
of the courthouse in Alachua county, Florida and take down the names of
every potential bus driver in Torrance California, not to mention the name
of every first responder in every town and county in every state of the
Union. I've noticed they are not shy about criticizing his performance as
President. That's legitimate, because *that's his job*. His job is not to
tell the Mayor of New Orleans which buses need to be at which corners at
what times and with what drivers to pick up which people and take them to
which destinations. That's *the mayor's *job.

It's always such a *pleasure* to have Germans enlighten us on the best way
to move large groups of sick, downtrodden people by rail. The only
motivation I can ascribe to such behavior is that same one that propels
young dim boys to tear the wings off flies.





Here is the Grey philosophy I try to live by:

*Sometimes, Bad Things Happen. Some things are beyond my control, beyond the
control of the smartest and best people we have, even beyond the awesome,
subtle and unlimited control of the simpering, sub-human village idiot from
Texas. *

Hurricanes come. They have come for all of human history, and more are
coming. Barbarians also come to steal or destroy what they cannot make
themselves, and they, like human tempests, have swept a path of destruction
through civilization since before history was written on clay tablets on the
banks of the Euphrates.

I am not a wolf. I have never harmed a person in my life. But I am not a
sheep, either. I know these forces are out there, and wishing it were not so
will not only not make them go away � it will rob me of my chance to *kick
their ass *when they show up.

I am a sheepdog - an amateur, stand-by sheepdog. Police officers and elected
officials get *paid *to be sheepdogs. Sheepdogs don�t cry, and they don�t
complain about wet feet, and they don�t wail about conspiracies while
waiting for the help that *they themselves *are sworn to provide.

Also, unlike so many in the �reality-based� community, I do not believe in a
deity. For instance, I don�t believe that a single god-king can summon
storms, hypnotize entire populations and be the focus for evil in the world.
Many people refer to Iraq as George Bush�s war, a charge I find shockingly
unfair -- to *me*. I voted for him in 2004, and I support that war in
earnest. In future billboards, I would like to be mentioned as having Kids
Die in George Bush and Bill Whittle�s War for Oil, and I expect the new crop
of MoveOn bumper stickers to say DEFEND AMERICA: STOP BUSH AND WHITTLE. I�m
tired of being left out of this. George Bush did not take over the White
House with a six-shooter; people voted him into office with the biggest
number of votes in American history. I�m one of those people, and *damn you
*liberal cheapskate sons of bitches, I demand my equal time.






On the subject of disasters man-made and natural, one more thing from INSIDE
9/11 rings a powerful bell with me. At the very end, as Osama makes his way
out of Afghanistan and into hiding, he tells an *Al Jazeera* reporter his
motivations for the 9/11 attack. In his own words, to the friendly folks
back home, he explains that his goal was to hurt America so badly that we
would have *no choice *but to go after him and start the world-wide jihad
that would result in him becoming the new Caliph, ruling from his recently
completed palace outside Kandahar. He had seen much of the Pink tribe in his
formative years, seen weakness and retreat in places like Somalia. He
thought he had our number, but he made the mistake of having perhaps the
least Pink individual in modern history in the White House when he made his
move. He made a worse mistake in flying his murdering deathbots into a town
that looked Pink, that was painted Pink from head to toe, but whose
foundation was rock-solid granite Grey.

If I had gotten my 2000 voting wish and Al Gore had been president that day,
would he have been Grey enough to knock that entire regime over and carry
the fight to the rest of the region? Or would he have issued Stern Warnings
and Worked With Our Allies and gotten the UN to Issue a Major Ultimatum?

I don�t know.

But I do know, that there, in his own words, the wolf said why he did what
he did: he wanted to provoke War with the US, and would do whatever was
necessary to accomplish it. And if we had not given him this war, *he would
have kept striking until he got what he was looking for.* Nothing about US
foreign policy, no word about injustice for the Palestinians or Evil
Corporations or any of that. No, he said he wanted to start a war with the
US. And so he has it. And he would have done whatever he had to do to get
it.

And they will strike again, and those silent, dogged sheepdogs who have
succeeded so many times in the dark silent hours will miss a scent
somewhere, and more people will die and that's what we can expect. Not dying
of Influenza or Black Death, not being steamrollered under Nazi jackboots or
watching Mongol hordes swarming towards us over the horizon as we run for
the city walls. None of that. Only *this*.

And when they come, storms man-made and natural, what will the
sheepdog/sheep ratio be? Enough?

Now, when Pink Tribesmen say that these people can be reasoned with, they
are doing what sheep do: living in denial.

Because to say we are responsible for the terrorists in the world is a way
to say we can control this wolf. If we believe we made him, then that means
we control him. We can *unmake *him. Such a worldview appeals to the left,
because it gives them Godlike Mental Powers. All we have to do is act
differently and he will go away. It�s complete moral cowardice, of course �
but it�s understandable cowardice. It�s denial, because if all the sins are
ours then all we must do is repent and the wolf will go away.

But that�s not what the wolf says. The wolf is not interested in what we do.
He does not spare little lambs because they rub up against his leg and make
cooing sounds. The wolf wants to swallow us whole. He wants the fight. He
wants the war and the conflict. And he will keep on huffing and puffing
until one of three things happen: We show him our throat, for him to rip
out; or we convert to Islam and become part of his Caliphate; or we head out
into the forest with a shotgun and blow his fucking head off.

I made my decision by about 9:30 eastern on September 11th, 2001. I have
never regretted it.

It takes courage to fight oncoming storms. *Courage*.

Courage isn�t free. It is *taught*, taught by certain tribes who have been
around enough and seen enough incoming storms to know what one looks like.
And I think the people of this nation, and those of New Orleans,
specifically, desire and deserve some fundamental lessons in courage.

Because we are going to need it.









On Feb 9, 2008 8:09 AM, <R22RumRunner at aol.com> wrote:

> Brad,
> Let me see if I understand your position. You are saying that our
>  government
> did an outstanding job in their effort to help the people after  Katrina?
>
> Rummy
>
>
> In a message dated 2/9/2008 8:40:37 A.M. Eastern Standard Time,
> flybrad at gmail.com writes:
>
> Contrary  to popular belief because of MSM spin, our armed forces were all
> over NOLA  after Katrina.  The National Guard had headquarters set-up on
>  the
> fourth floor of the SuperDome parking garage.  One of my  co-workers, an
> Air
> Force reservist, personally flew the mission to move a  temporary hospital
> to
> the Mississippi Gulf Coast the very next day, as soon  as the weather
> cleared.  Another co-worker, a Marine, evacuated his  reserve units
> helicopters to Dallas and returned to NOLA immediately after  the storm.
>  The
> US Coast Guard flew thousands of rescue missions.The  Navy had ships off
> the
> coast that delivered water via helicopter. When my  company arrived on the
> MS
> coast, the National Guard kept the beach area  secure for months. I say to
> any city who doesn't welcome our armed forces -  fend for yourselves
> during
> the next natural disaster.  Toledo, you're  next!
>
> Brad
>
> --------------------
>
> Article published  February 9, 2008
>
> Mayor to Marines: Leave downtown
> He says urban  exercises scare people
> [image:  Photo]
>
> <javascript:NewWindow(600,400,'/apps/pbcs.dll/misc?url=/templates/zoom.pbs&Sit
> e=TO&Date=20080209&Category=NEWS16&ArtNo=802090394&Ref=AR');>
> Staff  Sgt. Andre Davis talks to his commanding officer as he leaves the
> Madison  Building after Mayor Carty Finkbeiner requested that the Marines
> leave the  downtown location.
> ( THE BLADE/JEREMY WADSWORTH )
>
> <javascript:NewWindow(600,400,'/apps/pbcs.dll/misc?url=/templates/zoom.pbs&Sit
> e=TO&Date=20080209&Category=NEWS16&ArtNo=802090394&Ref=AR');>
>
> Zoom<javascript:NewWindow(600,400,'/apps/pbcs.dll/misc?url=/templates/zoom.pbs
> &Site=TO&Date=20080209&Category=NEWS16&ArtNo=802090394&Ref=AR');>|
> Photo
> Reprints  <http://www.toledoblade.com/printroom>
>
> By JC REINDL  <jcreindl at theblade.com>
> BLADE STAFF WRITER
>
> A company of Marine  Corps Reservists received a cold send-off from
> downtown
> Toledo yesterday by  order of Mayor Carty Finkbeiner. The 200 members of
> Company A, 1st  Battalion, 24th Marines, based in Grand Rapids, Mich.,
> planned to spend  their weekend engaged in urban patrol exercises on the
> streets of downtown  as well as inside the mostly vacant Madison Building,
> 607 Madison Ave.  Toledo police knew days in advance about their plans for
> a
> three-day  exercise. Yet somehow the memo never made it to Mayor
> Finkbeiner,
> who  ordered the Marines out yesterday afternoon just minutes before their
> buses  were to arrive. "The mayor asked them to leave because they
>  frighten
> people," said Brian Schwartz, the mayor's spokesman. "He did not  want
> them
> practicing and drilling in a highly visible area." So after a  brief stop
> at
> a friendly base in Perrysburg Township, the Marines by early  evening were
> back on their way home to Grand Rapids. "I wish they would  have told us
> this
> four hours ago," Staff Sgt. Andre Davis said. Sergeant  Davis, who
> traveled
> ahead of the five-bus convoy, stepped from his vehicle  into downtown
> about
> 3:20 p.m. and was told by a city employee that the  mayor wanted him and
> his
> soldiers packed up and out by 6 p.m. Members of  the 1st Battalion, 24th
> Marines have trained periodically in downtown  Toledo since at least 2004
> and
> most recently in May, 2006. Past exercises  have involved mock gun fights,
> ambushes, and the firing of blank  ammunition. The Marines' buses set a
> course for their battalion's Weapons  Company headquarters in Perrysburg
> Township as soon as they heard of the  mayor's decision. The Reservists'
> visit was no surprise to Toledo police,  who Tuesday issued a news release
> to
> media outlets on behalf of the Marines  that asked Toledoans not to be
> startled by the sight of camouflaged  soldiers toting M16 rifles. Police
> officers were awaiting the Marines'  arrival yesterday afternoon and had
> set
> up a roadblock at Madison Avenue  and Huron Street. "There was apparently
> a
> break in communication somewhere  between the mayor and the police
> department," Mr. Schwartz said. "Where  that break was, we don't know
> yet."
> Maj.
> Jeffrey O'Neill, the company's  commanding officer, said he was
> disappointed
> by how events played out  yesterday, especially because Toledo had been a
> gracious host for Marine  exercises in the past. "You can go to military
> ranges for live fire  [exercises], but there's no way to duplicate the
> urban
> jungle unless you  actually train inside a city," Major O'Neill said. Mr.
> Schwartz said the  Marines declined Mayor Finkbeiner's alternative offer
> for
> them to practice  their urban patrol tactics inside the former Jones
> Junior
> High School, 550  Walbridge Ave. Major O'Neill said he was not aware of
> such
> an offer. A pair  of Marines spent the better part of yesterday setting up
> the Madison  Building with generators, heaters, radios, and food to become
> the unit's  overnight headquarters. After receiving the mayor's request to
> leave, they  began the task of moving the equipment back into an armored
> Humvee. Lance  Cpl. Brandon Bukrey-McCarty, 22, recalled taking part in
> the
> company's 2006  urban patrol exercise in downtown Toledo. He said he
> learned
> skills during  that exercise that proved useful during the unit's
> deployment
> to Fallujah,  Iraq, in 2006-2007. "It was extremely helpful," Corporal
> Bukrey-McCarty  said. The training "got me used to looking up on rooftops,
> looking around  every alley, every open door." Sergeant Davis and other
> company leaders  estimated the total cost of the aborted training
> exercise,
> including  travel, at roughly $10,000. Before he left downtown for
>  Perrysburg
> Township, Major O'Neill said he was not sure what type of  training, if
> any,
> his unit could undertake without access to downtown  Toledo. "But we're
> Marines," Major O'Neill said. "We'll adapt and  overcome."
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