Harvey Olson: Carnival Entries

Wed, 01 Oct 2003 04:14:34 GMT

NO PROTECTION

I was over at Sgt. Stryker's Daily Briefing, where I read an interesting piece on the speech restrictions faced by US soldiers. Being former Navy, myself, this reminded me of a broader point that would occur to me every now and again while I was serving.

When you join the US Armed Forces, you take an oath to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. In return for your devotion, the Constitution will no longer protect you. You may not speak, or write, or assemble, or pray, or keep/bear arms, or be secure in your person/papers/houses, except as a privilege granted by your superiors and ruled over by one of the most merciless documents ever scripted: The Uniform Code of Military Justice.

Just take a quick breeze through the Punitive Articles, and marvel at the array of relatively common civilian behaviors that gets a soldier some serious trouble. Talk back to a superior - jail time. Late for work - jail time. Creative sex with your wife - jail time.

Look at article 100. You can be executed for taking down the flag at the wrong time.

Of course, all this is absolutely necessary to make the Armed Services an effective engine of destruction in pursuit of its mission to protect the US. There's no way around it. Running a hippy commune ain't gonna get the job done, and that's not my point.

My point is that I'd just like for American civilians to appreciate the fact that, although good soldiers often say, "I'm just doing my job," they are NOT doing a JOB. A job is something you can quit when you have a bad day. These men are voluntary indentured servants, and they serve at the whim and need of the government and they've surrendered every single Constitutional protection that they used to enjoy and take for granted. In exchange, the have the job description of "taking a bullet" for $20,000 a year in salary.

What sane person would sign up for that?

A Patriot.

And God bless them all.

Mon, 29 Sep 2003 03:49:56 GMT

200 WORDS OR LESS:

EITHER/OR

Today's question comes from the book, "Romantic Questions" page 35:

*************

#5 Which are you more afraid of: cancer or impotence?

*************

Well, there's a pleasant thought.

You know, there are some decisions a man simply shouldn't have to make. That's one. Others would include:

Hernias or leprosy

Tetanus or prison sex

Gangrene or a night alone with Michael at the Neverland Ranch

Athlete's foot or dandruff

Paper cuts or unpaid overtime

Listening to any Jesse Jackson speech or having duct tape removed from my very hairy forearm

Shaving cuts or a football in the groin

Holding my wife's purse while she shops or hammering my thumb

Changing a flat on I-90 during rush hour or attending mandatory "sensitivity training"

Eating tofu or wrestling a rabid St. Bernard

Installing a ceiling fan or trying to explain why Monty Python is funny

Being dropped into a pool of pirahna or an Al Gore presidency

Watching a Truth.com commercial or watching Teletubbies

A hornet's nest in my shorts or forgetting my wife's birthday

Having the cat pee on my bed while I'm in it or a vacation in France

Smelling a hippy or listening to a hippy

Clowns or mimes

Watching "Trading Spaces" or watching "While You Were Out"

*************

Feel free to suggest other horrid choices in the comments.

Thu, 18 Sep 2003 05:53:51 GMT

WAITING TO BE BORN

You met Jon before in the form of a short poem in this post. I was so impressed, I encouraged him to get a blog to share his talent with the world.

Well, it's not quite ready yet, but he pointed me to a taste of what you're in for when he does fire up his blog, and he gave me permission to post it.

Background: Over at thenewterror.com, there's a discussion forum. Someone posted a nice story about how some Marines coming home from the Iraq War boarded a plane to cheers, applause, hugs and kisses. A pleasant piece making a point of how Americans should be proud of their armed forces and be grateful for their sacrifices.

Then the troll showed up and posted this:

************

WITH ALL DUE RESPECT: BARF!
IT NEVER SEIZES TO AMAZE ME HOW FULL OF IT AMERICANS CAN BE, SORRY, FORGIVE ME, I MEAN NO DISRESPECT FOR THE ARMED FORCES OR THE MEN AND WOMEN THAT TRIED THERE VERY BEST ON AND SINCE 9-11, BUT THE HYPOCRIT ACT OF THE US BEING THE SUPERFUNKYMASTERS OF THE WORLD MAKES ME LOOSE BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER. LIKE THE US IS PERFECT AND EVERYTHING ELSE SHOULD BE SHAPPED IN THEIR IMAGE, CAN'T WAIT TILL NEXT ELLECTION TO SEE WHAT JOKER WILL RUN THE LOONYFARM NEXT.

JUST AN UNASKED AND MOST LIKELY UNWANTED OPINION, BUT THE HIGHER UP THE HORSE YOU ARE, THE HARDER YOU FALL.

AGAIN, WITH NO DISRESPECT,
EZ

****************

This worthless worm-meat was begging for a clue-bat enema. Jon obliged him with one of the best anti-idiotarian skull-smashings I've seen outside of Misha's Imperial Palace:

**************

I will take no disrepect regarding what you've written here, if you will not feel disrespected regarding what I write here. If, somewhere during your reading of this, you are disrespected, then should consider me disrespected

First, your entire post is intended to disrespect. As any NOOBIE knows, using all CAPITAL LETTERS is the same as YELLING at the person reading. That is considered by many to be rude and offensive. But that doesn't disrespect me.

Second, it is ironic that the very medium you use to convey your message WAS INVENTED by the people you speak of. The ability for you to voice your opinion as you do WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE if it were not for the hard work of the people you deride. And if it was run by "your people", you wouldn't even be able to speak your opinions. But that doesn't disrespect me.

And let's get something straight - when you say "AMERICANS" - you mean ME buddy. I'm an AMERICAN. The government of this land is not some elite cartel of snobs I've never elected. This country is governed by people I put there. They do MY BIDDING. So if you have a problem with how AMERICA does something - you have a problem with ME - personally - and with ALL AMERICANS.

Now. Regarding us being the "SUPERFUNKYMASTERS OF THE WORLD" - yeah we are - we earned it! We didn't require 3 month vacations, 30 hour work weeks, and extreme protectionist labor laws. Historically, the residents of this country are the ones who wanted to become the SUPERFUNKYMASTERS OF THE WORLD - and we DID. My ancestors LEFT the little stink-hole you wallow in because IT SUCKED for them. They busted their asses to make a better life for them and for me. And that's what I'M doing. What are you doing? Sitting on your under-worked, under-paid, under-achieving ass - swallowing every lying, distorted, slanted report Reuters chooses to feed you. Tell you what, why don't you start your day here: www.instapundit.com, then follow ANY link you want from there. When you've read all you want, THEN go read your local news and see if what you are being fed is what's REAL, or is contrived. WAKE UP! Your life is closer to George Orwell's 1984 than mine. And that's double plus bad.

A final point on AMERICA being the SUPERFUNKYMASTERS OF THE WORLD; We are the #1 economic country in the world. No doubt about it. A comparison of the economic output of the G8 - which is the top 8 economic producing countries OF THE WORLD - rates the US as #1. Even more than that, the US produces more economically than the other 7 countries combined. Please see the above paragraph for how we got that way. Capitalism is what made this happen. Not Communism. Not Socialism. Not Left-Wing Liberals. Not Hippies. Hard Work. Equal Opportunity - not Equal Results.

No, the US is not perfect. As it is made up of humans, it cannot be perfect. But we are not working toward perfection - just better. Better lives, better health, better water, better air, better cars, better boobs, better orgasms, better computers, a better society - a better future. We compete - we improve - we WORK. Should everything happen in the US' image? Hell YES! WHY NOT? Look what we did after Sputnik! Bring the next competitor on! We're getting bored over here.

Regaring a 'JOKER' running the 'LOONYFARM'. Boy - those are fightin' words. Let me give you a little lesson in US Governing here. WE choose who represents us. We choose Senators, and Congresspeople, and a President - and they agree on Judges. When you call the leader of this nation - of these people - a 'JOKER' - you imply that the people are jokers. When you call this country a 'LOONYFARM' - you infer that all the people are loony. How - please explain - is this NOT SUPPOSED TO DISREPECT ME? Which part of "Hey, you are crazy, and they guy who speaks for you is an idiot!" is NOT SUPPOSED TO DISREPECT ME? But I'm not disrepected.

And, finally, the implied "doom prognostication" of "... HIGHER YOU ARE, THE HARDER YOU FALL ...". Oh ppplease. Spare me. But, rather than look at me, and my country - let's look at you. What if this "dream" of yours came true? What if the US did fall? Well, I presume you mean economically, because there is no other way for us to fall, really. So, given that, how would this effect you? Well, for starters, the Internet would be a lot smaller. Moore's Law would probably be proven false, which means your next computer - oops, you wouldn't have a next computer. You'd probably be a bit hungrier, because as the #1 exporter of food in the world, other countries would no doubt be a little short on the 'generosity' area. You'd probably be a little colder and darker too, as most of the oil production and refining is done by US technology and personell. What - you don't think the "Rich Arabs" pump their own oil, do you? Oh ppplease. They consider it beneath them to pump their own gas. Also, there is a concept in Supply Management called Logistics. Do you think that all of the goods traveling around the world would get to where they need to be - when they are needed - before they spoil - without US Satellites and technology? Do you think that latest computer game would make it to your local store (from the US company that wrote it) without DHL dropping it on time? Oh ppplease. So - be careful what you wish for Junior. You probably won't like what you get.

Personally, I have no problem with you sharing your opinion. However, I'd appreciate it if it didn't come out of your ass.

Oh - and I'm not disrepected - unless you are.
_________________
I understand a lot more now than I ever did before.

***************

I get tingly all over reading this.

Give Jon some applause and encouragement in the comments, please.

Sun, 14 Sep 2003 15:20:43 GMT

LOONIES

(A FILTHY LIE)

I was up in Green Bay, Wisconsin recently to catch a Packer game, and as part of the tailgating festivities, I strolled past the Brown County Mental Health Center because I find the chronically insane to be a source of endless amusement. Well, there was one guy walking around with a size 14 Army boot on his head, and I just had to find out what was going on...

Harv: Hey! Loony guy wearing a boot on his head! What's your psychosis?

Loony: I want to be elected Emperor.

Harv: Not really an elective office, as I'm sure Misha will attest, but I'll bite. What's your platform?

Loony: If elected, I promise to make Wonder-Bras the new official currency.

Harv: And if you lose?

Loony: Then I'll nuke France until it smells better.

Harv: Sounds like a win-win situation to me.

Loony: Also... Oh look! A puppy! Excuse me... Com'ere fuzz-butt. You've got a date with my Ronco Pocket Blender [WHIRRRR! *YIP!YIP!YIP!*gurgle*] [chug, chug] Ahhhhh! Better.

Harv: Hey! You're Evil Glenn!

Evil Glenn: And you're not as dumb as you look.

Harv: You monster! What are you doing in Green Bay?

Evil Glenn: Well, I tell ya. I'm lookin' to make some money. Penguin porn sales are down, Deal-A-Meal has just tanked since the resurgence of the Atkins Diet, and my "Myocardially Infarcting to the Oldies" video just isn't catching on. Marketing blames the high mortality rate, but personally, I blame the Beach Boys.

Harv: So, what's your new evil get-rich-quick scheme?

Evil Glenn: Well, Wisconsin is the sports-gambling capital of the world, so I'm going to rig a few games, place some heavy bets, and really clean up.

Harv: You're going to kneecap Brett Favre?

Evil Glenn: Football's too small-time to make the serious Benjamins. Think bigger.

Harv: Cow tipping?

Evil Glenn: Drunken frat-boy pranks aren't wagerable.

Harv: Good point. But according to my copy of "Stuck in Wisconsin? Alternatives to Suicide for Dummies", the Packers are the only item of interest in this state. Except for maybe Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment. What the hell are you going to gamble on?

Evil Glenn: Tiddlywinks.

Harv: Tiddlywinks is bigger than football? Bullshit!

Evil Glenn: Lawyer

Harv: Touché

Evil Glenn: It's a simple plan, really. Grease the right palms, and they'll boondock on a tiddle in the final round with no-one the wiser.

Harv: Well, that sounds diabolically clever enough, but you're broke. What are you going to use for bribe money?

Evil Glenn: Naked pictures of Britney Spears.

Harv: Get real, dumbass. That's just an urban legend. Those pictures don't really exist.

Evil Glenn: True, but PhotoShop does, and tiddlywinkers are notoriously stupid.

Harv: You evil, lying, conniving bastard!

Evil Glenn: Lawyer.

Harv: Again, touché. But you'll never get away with this. You'll be spotted and turned in. Your picture is all over the internet. Everyone knows what you look like.

Evil Glenn: Doesn't matter. I'm keeping a low profile.

Harv: Low profile? Before I stopped to talk to you, you were screaming your fool head off about mind control lasers from outer space. That's supposed to make people ignore you?

Evil Glenn: It worked for Kucinich, didn't it?

Harv: True, but irrelevant. I'll stop you myself, you sick, twisted...

Evil Glenn: Hey, look, it's Britney Spears, and she's stark naked!

Harv: Oh boy! Where?

Evil Glenn: Sucker! [FWING!]

Harv: Hey, that's not Brittany Spears, it's Helen Thomas. Oh GOD! MY EYES!

... Wait. Where did Evil Glenn go? DAMN! I've gotta warn HQ... and in the name of humanity, Helen, put some FREAKING clothes on!

Glenn's evil knows no bounds. Now he's rigging tiddlywink tournaments to make money in a corrupt gambling scheme. This MUST BE STOPPED!

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Fri, 05 Sep 2003 22:13:58 GMT

HALF FULL

Although not necessarily endorsing the findings, PhotoDude has gathered the depressing statistics (only 2% of those surveyed visit a blog more than once a week, and 79% didn't know what a blog is), and mentions that, since blogs are not mainstream, bloggers ought to be a bit humbled by the mass ignorance of their sport, even though a given blogger might be racking up a few hundred readers per day.

If you look at it from that perspective, it's not just humbling, it's "stick your head in an oven" depressing.

Me, I look at it not from the "what percentage of the world am I entertaining" angle, but the narrower, more selfish angle of, "am I amusing somebody besides myself?" In the last few months, I've been shocked, awed, and delighted to discover that the answer to that is "yes".

My numbers don't matter so much (spoken like a true nobody, eh?), it's just that I've finally expanded my personal circle beyond work, home, friends, and family. I've met and enjoyed the company of many fine strangers with whom I share little in common except a love of fine writing and light comedy, and I've bonded with some of them to one degree or another, and, truth be known, I'm a lot happier now than I was before I started blogging. I've grown some & become a better, more thoughtful person in the process.

I haven't changed the world, but my corner of it's a little brighter, and that's good enough for me.

Thu, 28 Aug 2003 03:17:24 GMT

200 WORDS OR LESS:

HAUNTED HOUSE (A FILTHY LIE)

Today's question comes from the book, "The Conversation Piece":

---------------

#288 How much money would a person have to pay you to spend one night alone in an old mansion that is supposedly haunted?

---------------

Actually, I did it for a dollar just last week. As I lay awake in the terrifying shadows...

Harv: This ain't so bad. Easiest buck I ever made.

Spectre: WHOOOoooOOO! WHOOOoooOOO! [*trip* CRASH!] OW! Stupid darkness!

Harv: Who's there?

Spectre: 'Tis I, Bob Marley. You will be visited by three ghosts tonight….

Harv: That was Jacob Marley, asshat, and... are you drinking a puppy shake?

Spectre: ...Crap. Ok, I'm the spirit of Evil Glenn.

Harv: You're... you're DEAD?

Spectre: What a bigoted thing to say! Just because I'm incorporeal, you automatically assume I'm dead. Animist!

Harv: Right. Sorry. So, what's your gig?

Spectre: I'm in league with Satan. In exchange for my already black and rotted soul, he gave me ultimate power over the blogosphere.

Harv: Old news, freakshow. Gimme something I can take to HQ.

Spectre: Isn't it obvious? I violate the sanctity of your home at an ungodly hour and I'm as annoying as a Frenchman at a UN Security Council meeting. Figure it out.

Harv: You're a TELEMARKETER?

Spectre: Reviewed your insurance needs, lately?

Harv: NOOOOOOOOO! No dollar is worth this! [flees in terror]

Evil Glenn is an insurance telemarketer. Spread the word.

Instapundo Delenda Est!

Sat, 23 Aug 2003 03:17:49 GMT

FILTHY LIES

Frank says we need more lies about Evil Glenn.

I can't help much there. I'm too honest.

However, when I was talking with Evil Glenn the other day, I did discover something quite shocking. We were discussing some of our favorite retired comic strip writers...

Harv: Yeah, I miss Gary Larson, too. And I always really liked Bloom County. Some people said it was just a Doonesbury wanna-be, but I thought it was quite innovative.

Evil Glenn: I agree. I really liked Opus. I love penguins. In fact, I even have a small, penguin-related business on the side. Let me show you something on my computer.

Harv: Penguinperv.com?

Evil Glenn: One of my favorite web-cam sites.

Harv: Does that book say "Instapundit" on the cover?

Evil Glenn: Yup.

Harv: Why does that penguin have an odd little smile on his face?

Evil Glenn: Obviously he REALLY enjoys what he's looking at. And I guarantee you he's not reading it for the articles.

Harv: You published a book of penguin porn?

Evil Glenn: Yup. Nothing more erotic than a penguin. The stark black-and-white contrast, the beak, those tiny feathers... indeed.

Harv: You sick, vile, sub-human pervert!

Evil Glenn: Geez, Harv, relax. Puppy smoothie?

Harv: Get away from me!

Evil Glenn: Say... has anyone ever told you that you look like a hobo? [reaching slowly for whacking hammer]

Harv: AAAAAAHH! [flees in terror]

So the truth is out. Evil Glenn publishes penguin porn on the side. Just one more reason...

Instapundo Delenda Est!

[hat tip to Intergalactic Capitalist for the pic]

UPDATE (8/27/03): Over at Alliance HQ, I provide further evidence of Evil Glenn's penguin porn production.

Fri, 15 Aug 2003 03:51:10 GMT

200 WORDS OR LESS:

MEANINGFUL ACTIVITY

Today's topic comes from the Yale undergraduate admission application:

------------

Describe an interest or activity that has been particularly meaningful to you.

--------

By day, I'm a mild-mannered bank teller. But when darkness falls, I transform into FRENCH-MAN! The world's most cowardly and annoying superhero. Why, just last night...

French-Man: Hark! I hear a mugging. This looks like a job for... FRENCH-MAN!

[arriving way outside the nick of time]

French-Man: Hey there, evil criminal. What are you doing to that innocent victim?

Criminal: Beating the crap out of him with this tire iron so I can steal me some crack money. [WHACK!]

Victim: Ow! God! My skull!

French-Man: No need for violence. I'm sure there's a diplomatic...

[WHACK!]

Victim: Oof! My kidneys!

French-Man: Please, Innocent Victim, don't interrupt my beautiful voice. That's cowboyish and rude! Now, if we examine the root causes of this mugger's rage...

[WHACK!]

Victim: AAAAAAAH! My groin!

Criminal: I need money for crack NOW! CRAAAAAAACK!

French-Man: See? Now if you'll just appease him instead of persisting in your unilateral struggles...

Criminal: Can it, Froggy! He's dead and I've got the money... Saaaaaay... what's in YOUR wallet?

French-Man: Uh... I can see my work here is done. I have an important surrendering ceremony to attend across town... YIKES! MOMMY!...

Another day, another diplomatic victory, courtesy of... FRENCH-MAN!

Mon, 11 Aug 2003 01:28:48 GMT

200 WORDS OR LESS:

THE CLINTON LEGACY

Today's question is from Great Questions of History:

------------------

Could Clinton be a successful leader despite his private conduct?

----------------------

Taking the question literally, I'm inclined to say, "no". However, as Bill himself taught us, words have many definitions, and answers depend on what each word means. So let's assume:

Could - as in "monkeys could fly out my butt"

Clinton - a small town in Wisconsin

be - a form of "is" - could mean anything

a - is a

successful - not destroying all human life

leader - the first two inches of non-magnetized tape on an audiocassette

despite - not to be confused with "despot"

his - a sexist term, ignore this word

private - not in the sense of "private parts", which are naughty

conduct - moving electricity from hither to yon

So "Will humanity will be destroyed by a small town in Wisconsin as non-despotic flying butt-monkeys (not penises) move electricity around a piece of non-magnetized plastic tape?"

Hmmm... I guess the answer is still "no".

Tue, 29 Jul 2003 03:50:17 GMT

JUST FOR FUN 5

Group D's responses are up, and the Group E question has been posted:

---------------------

Everyone knows my solution to random ninja attacks. In 200 words or less, describe your own solution. Remember, while people hate getting randomly attacked by ninjas, they also hate high taxes, so try and keep your solutions cheap.

----------------------

The only thing more powerful than a ninja’s stealth attack is a Frenchman’s annoying cowardice. Since the French lost all their land to Uganda during the bombing of Paris, we might as well bring them here to protect us from Ninjas. I envision the following scenario:

Ninja: Soon I will randomly attack an innocent American…

Frenchman: Bonjour, monsieur Ninja.

Ninja: Gah! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Frenchman: Pardon moi, but I sense that you are superior to me. Please accept my surrender.

Ninja: Uh, look buddy, I’m kinda busy randomly targeting Americans right now. Can you come back a little later, maybe?

Frenchman: Non! I am cowardly and must surrender immediately!

Ninja: No, seriously, I’ve got this evil plan to carry out, and… *sniff*… DAMN! Is that smell coming from you?

Frenchman: Oui! It is part of our national odor! I am most proud of it! But I would be even more proud to be your prisoner.

Ninja: No! Go away!

Frenchman: But I give up!

Ninja: Leave me alone!

Frenchman: At least call me a coward.

Ninja: SHUT!… UP!

Frenchman: I look most handsome in prisoner’s garb.

Ninja: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH**GAAK** (impales self on sword in despair).

Sun, 20 Jul 2003 03:24:16 GMT

TODAY’S GRAFFITI CURRENCY

Monica's first President.

Sun, 13 Jul 2003 04:13:34 GMT

BAD MONEY'S PIZZA/BLOG TIPPING RULE

Most blogs have a tip jar. But, as Cox & Forkum recently pointed out, most tip jars stay empty. The problem is that, although the readers enjoy the material on a blog, they have no idea what an "appropriate" contribution is.

I have a simple rule of thumb to solve this problem. If something you read on someone's blog makes you as happy as eating a large pepperoni pizza, you should tip the blogger the same amount that you'd tip the pizza delivery guy. Say about $2.

The beauty of this rule is that it can be scaled conveniently both up and down, consistent with your financial situation and level of enjoyment.

Say you've got $10.35 in PayPal and you read something mildly amusing somewhere. Drop in the $.35 and say, "that was as refreshing as a double espresso on exam day eve. Here's a little jingle for your jar."

Conversely, if you want to go high, you can always say, "that was as thrilling as that unnamed service recently provided to my by Trixie, the Times Square Wonder Hooker. Here's $50, and it was worth every penny."

Which raises the question of when to tip.

First, consider that blogging is generally more about ego than about making a living. The coin of the blogospheric realm is attention, generally given in 3 forms: comments/e-mail, temporary post links, and blogroll permalinks. Think of them as corresponding roughly to copper, silver, and gold, respectively. Once you've exhausted payments in the local currency, something green becomes more appropriate.

Gates & Buffet can afford to tip for every good entry on every blog they visit. I can't. But there are 3 times when I think some jar jingle makes sense:

1) Make me laugh out loud. If I just snarfed coffee all over the monitor & everyone at the bank is staring at me like I'm a lunatic, that's worth tipping.

2) Change my mind. If something is so persuasive or thought-provoking that I'm forced to re-open the closed book on one of my convictions, that's worth tipping.

3) Long-time daily read. If, in the absence of the first 2 criteria, I still find myself stopping at a site every day for at least 3 months, that's worth tipping.

Your criteria may differ based on your financial situation and laughter threshold.

So, now that you know how to do it, go forth and thank the nice bloggers who make your day so wonderful.

Thu, 10 Jul 2003 05:04:55 GMT

WHAT I'D MISS THE MOST

I have a picture of my wife that I keep in a folder in my filing cabinet. She'd kill me if I posted it, so you'll have to settle for a description. It's a picture of her painting our old house, and was taken back in August of '99. The place had an indented corner in the back, and she's standing in the 90-degree angle formed by the section of wall facing west and the section facing north. She's finished the west wall (leastwise, as high up as she could reach, leaving the top part for me), and is about halfway done with the north wall, the paintbrush frozen in mid-stroke. She's wearing sloppy, baggy sweats, splattered with white, and her hair is pulled back in a "no one's going to see me anyway" ponytail, with the front bangs doing their Sam Sheepdog thing in front of her face. She's giving me that corner-of-the-eye glance and that bemused "why the hell are you taking this picture?" half-smile that only a woman indulging her man's most inexplicable whim can give.

I have pictures of her looking like a Cosmo cover-girl, too, but this is the one that I cherish more, and this is the one that I'd spend the most time crying over if anything ever happened to her.

It was taken 4 months after we were married, and it captures everything about her that I love best.

When we decided to move out of that drafty old shack, she insisted that we had to do something about the exterior color, which was the brownish-pink of a diseased salmon. After pricing both siding and a professional paint job, she breezily announced that we would be painting the house white (it was the cheapest color) and doing the work ourselves. With great effort, I managed to choke back my gut reaction of "just exactly how insane are you, anyway?"

My wife has a knack for breezily announcing major projects without considering potential roadblocks (the obsessing over which is my forte), but I'd already learned that she was right to do so about 90+ percent of the time. So paint we did.

3 weeks later, the house was white & we did eventually sell the place. Mostly, I concede, on the merits of the nice paint job.

But when this picture was taken, we were still in that scary middle part where the task, at times, seemed impossible to complete, yet too much had been done to turn back. The cake was half-baked and there was no separating the ingredients anymore. I was still counting obstacles and fearing that they might be insurmountable.

But not her. In this picture, in that indulgent smile & glance, I see the hope & love & optimism, the cheerful supportiveness, and the unshakable faith in a never-ending chain of better tomorrows that is my wife's greatest gift to our marriage. I looked at a half-painted wall & saw the mess, the trouble, and the tiny spots that the brush had missed. But she was seeing the bigger, better house we'd be living in someday; the exciting life, filled with adventure and travel; and the endless, joyous future she’d share with the only man she's ever loved enough to proudly call "husband".

When I look at that picture, I remember everything that's good, positive, optimistic, loving, and supportive about her. And on this day, our 51-month anniversary (yes, I still count and cherish every month), I look at that picture, remember why I married her, and remind myself, yet again, that she is, unquestionably, the best thing that ever happened to me.

Wed, 02 Jul 2003 05:05:03 GMT

TODAY’S GRAFFITI CURRENCY: A SEA STORY

Way back in my Navy days, after spending 40 long, judge-sober days at sea, we finally pulled into the Philippines for 4 relaxing days in the single man's paradise of Olongapo City. Olongapo is situated right outside the Navy base there (which, sadly, closed in the early 90's), and specialized in the type of entertainment that sea-weary sailors tend to enjoy - loud rock & roll, pretty girls, and alcohol by the tanker truck.

My first night off base found my buddies & I bouncing from one bar to the next along Magsaysay drive, piling up empty bottles of San Miguel beer, screaming "WOOOOOOOOO!" at the bands until our throats were tattered ("another San Magoo will fix that. WAITRESS! Another round!"), and making the kind of broken-English conversation with the local working girls that most people only hear somewhere in the second half of "Full Metal Jacket"

Along about 2am, I staggered semi-consciously back to the ship, pausing now & again to yark up a gallon of beer, my last seven meals, and bits of my spleen & pancreas. Somehow I made it back to my berthing area to bed-spin my way into a dreamless semi-coma.

Four hours later, when reveille sounded, I pried my sleep-sticky eyes open, remembered where I was and most of how I got there, and realized that I felt more or less exactly like this: