Eight Feet Deep

I less than do not care that Brangelina just had a baby in Namibia. I mean, good for them. But it is not like little Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt is the first baby to be born ever.

But always on the lookout for something to ridicule, I came across a story about how new dad Brad Pitt cut the umbilical cord. That also isn’t the first time it has ever happened. But the fact that he was signing autographs in the delivery room while doing it … That story led to this story from the Tanzania Standard that looks at angle of the Brangelina birth as a mechanism to boost tourism in Namibia. I have to admit that’s something I would have never considered.

“Come to Newborn, Ga., to have your newborn. It’ll be just peachy.”

I was a bit confused reading the Tanzanian online article and couldn’t figure out why at first. Finally, it dawned on me. The first mention of Pitt is, well, in this sentence:

“By law Shiloh Nouvel — the daughter of Ms Jolie and Brand Pritt — will be entitled to Namibian citizenship.”

Two paragraphs later it is Mr. Pitt rather than Mr. Brand Pritt. Two paragraphs after that it still is Mr. Pitt. But in the next paragraph:

“Mr. Pritt, who was together with Ms Jolie throughout the holiday, is also a Hollywood celebrity.”

Apparently, a lot of people in Tanzania don’t see Brand Pritt in the movies.

I also found it interesting that the Namibian tourism minister said the Pitt-Jolies have decided that Shiloh Nouvel will only have citizenship from Namibia and not a dual citizenship. I’ve not seen that reported elsewhere although that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Nevertheless, the baby will apparently be offered a Namibian passport which I am sure will come in handy some day.

Okay little Shiloh Nouvel, just close your eyes and tap your heels together three times and think to yourself: There’s no place like home, There’s no place like home…”

Two young Mormon guys stopped by this morning to ask me something about Christ or Joseph Smith or some religious figure. I was kind of busy and told them I didn’t want any religion today. But I did compliment them on how white their white shirts were.

You may be wondering what this port-o-potty is doing here. I don’t know. I mean, I know why the portable john is at the end of my block. It is there because a construction job is under way to lay new water lines down the street. But what the johnny-on-the-spot is doing in my blog? I haven’t a clue.

It was just something I took a photo of when the rain finally let up enough for me to walk down the street. It was still raining and I walked under an umbrella but it wasn’t pouring down. It did pour quite copiously not long after that. The latest total I’ve heard from KFDM-TV is that they received 14 inches of rain since midnight. Provided their rain gauge is at the TV station that’s not too far from where I live.

Of course I had to have my daily dog excitement fix during my brief walk. Just as I had turned around at 11th Street and started back on North Street, I heard this guy hollering and, what turned out to be a chihuahua-like dog, was hauling ass on the sidewalk running toward me. That little sucker was beating feet. The guy hollered at me to catch the dog. The little mutt stayed nearby me but would not come to me until, I guess, it got sick of being in the rain so it walked up to me and I grabbed its collar. The man chasing the dog was out of breath when he finally caught up with the dog and me. The guy looked like he hadn’t run anywhere in about 10 years. He said he had left the gate open and the dog took off. Did it ever.

So that poses a very deep question — two questions actually. 1) Why does stuff like that always happen to me? 2)Why does something that is strange that happens to me usually involve dogs? I suppose I’m just pondering the imponderable.

“That’s a big 10-4 on that 10-10 aqui.”
The above wisdom from my drunken acquaintance, Juan from college days, aside today is a day (or should be a day)for reflection. Memorial Day has its roots in post Civil War times but it was first proclaimed as a special day by “General Order No. 11,” issued by Gen. John A. Logan, commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic. And yes, he was the commander-in-chief.

A brief explanation. Military commanders with some type of large organization such as, say, the Pacific Fleet or military forces for a vast area were called commander-in-chiefs until the Bush administration stopped the practice in 2004. (In acronymic language, CINCPACFLT once meant Commander-in-Chief Pacific Fleet). Apparently the Bush administration declared there would be no chosen CINC before Gee Dubya so those heading large commands are now simply known as commanders.

Logan set May 30 as a day for decorating the graves of those:

” … who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet church-yard in the land.”

The southern states refused to recognize the day until after the armistice was signed during World War I. In 1971 Congress made the last Monday in May as Memorial Day. And the rest is … history I suppose.

Memorial Day is seen by and large by many Americans simply as the beginning of the summer season. It is a time for going to the beach, cook-outs, getting hammered and whatever. I do think that 9/11 and our subsequent military adventures (and misadventures) have made Americans stop and think a little more about the sacrifices made by the nation’s warriors.

I have said it before and I will say it again: One may support the troops without supporting the war in Iraq. Many who say that cannot be done have never even served in the military — “Chickenhawks” as some are called. But I was a veteran so I know the type of sacrifice one makes just to enlist in the armed forces. You are issued a whole new mindset along with new uniforms. You will most likely not be home for many of the occasions you once celebrated such as Christmas. You may experience hardship. Your family may experience hardship. And yes, you may even be killed.

So I have an appreciation for those serving, even in a war that I think is the epitome of foolishness. I have to say that incidents such as the goings-on at Abu Ghraib and the recent alleged massacre of Iraqis by Marines make it harder for some who don’t support the war to support the troops. It shouldn’t be like that. But it is what it is.

Thus, I will not let some misguided ideologues tell me what is in my mind and in my heart on this day. I think about the many sacrifices that were made for the country. I would say that some of those sacrifices were for good causes and some for not-so-good causes. But then, even though war may sometimes be necessary I don’t see it as particularly being “good.”

“In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

“Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.” — In Flanders Fields,
John McCrae, 1915.

Here is what’s happening in my neck of the woods:

BULLETIN – EAS ACTIVATION REQUESTED
FLASH FLOOD WARNING
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE LAKE CHARLES LA
900 AM CDT MON MAY 29 2006

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN LAKE CHARLES HAS ISSUED A

* FLASH FLOOD WARNING FOR…
JEFFERSON COUNTY IN SOUTHEAST TEXAS
ORANGE COUNTY IN SOUTHEAST TEXAS

* UNTIL NOON CDT

It has been raining and thundering here in Beaumont since midnight. The NWS and local media have reported between 7 and 12 inches of rain in some parts of Jefferson County, where I live. Some underpasses are flooded. I thought briefly about going out and taking some pictures of the flooding. But then I said: “Naahh.”

I wonder if rainy days and Mondays always got Karen Carpenter down? It doesn’t get me down. I love it. Bring it on … Well, I don’t guess that sounds too sophisticated. But hey, I’m not George W. Bush.