Author: Dick

I like the TV show “NCIS,” which is both drama and partially comedic about the Navy Criminal Investigative Service. NCIS is the detective agency for Navy and Marine Corps crimes. How much the show represents today’s NCIS, I don’t know. From what I’ve read, from real NCIS investigators, not much but they find the show entertaining.

My experiences with what was then called “NIS,” the Naval Investigative Service when I served in the Navy 30 years ago, was limited. But the civilian detectives I had dealings with in NIS were not the most brilliant Crayons in the box. I voluntarily met with NIS agents once after my barracks roommate decided to rob a pizza delivery guy one night with a knife. The guy had told me prior to it happening that he thought he was going to “rip some people off.” What can you say to someone like that? Especially to a 23-year-old alcoholic who talked to a rock? I didn’t know what to make of this dude, whether he was serious or not. The guy and a buddy ended up robbing a pizza delivery guy on the base of $50 and a pepperoni pizza. They were caught trying to go out the front gate of the base.

I ended up talking to NIS because I had told my division officer of my roommate’s revelations. The two detectives I talked to were just like Joe Friday and his partner on the old “Dragnet” TV series. Both were obviously old men, stone-faced and where in the hell they had come from before being NIS detectives in Mississippi, God only knows. But I will never forget one of the questions one of the NIS agents asked me. It was:

“Did you see the subject eat pizza?”

Well, no I didn’t sir. I saw the subject drink beer at 0700, just after he got up to get ready for work. But I never saw him eat pizza.

Somehow, I don’t think those are the kind of questions Mark Harmon would ask. My roommate ended up getting 7 years hard time, by the way.

Until I figure something different out, I now have set up an entirely different blog to post some of the comments I receive sometime after they are e-mailed to me. Hit the link under “EFD Readers Write.” I will try to post comments from those who write, just as long as if you aren’t trying to sell me something or if you aren’t way too snarky.

Well, the cable guy has yet to come but things seem to be working better on my link to the world of cyber. Maybe my Internet is acting like when you go to the doctor when you are ill sometimes. You know, you are sick as a dog until you go to the doctor, then you are just fine.

I have thought long and hard about this but recent comments from spammers including several today, especially one that hijacked me for about a minute until I could click everything off, have finally led me to my breaking point. I like having the give and take of comments well enough. But I will be damned if I will let comments on my blog be a forum for free advertising through the back door.

That is why I have decided to disable comments on EFD. I have set up a new e-mail address that sits just above the saline soldier where you may send your comments. I will also pick my way through this thing to figure out how I can post some of the comments I receive from e-mail. I’ll see how that works for awhile and if I get lonely for the old give-and-take of open comments, I might switch back. You never know what’s going to happen here.

Thanks for checking in,
The Proprietor

My Roadrunner connection is having problems. Time Warner said they “may” have someone fix it today or tomorrow. Isn’t that nice of them? Anyway, rather than get disgusted with my Internet connection going in and out, I’ll wait to see if the geniuses at TW can fix it before I blog anymore.

Despite whatever else I feel about being out of work, at least I no longer have to take dictation at one of the president’s press conferences. I mean, it’s easy, but it’s pointless.

I remember covering a press conference Bush had with former Spanish prime minister Jose Maria Aznar that was held at the ranch. I jockeyed for position with other reporters and placed my little tape recorder on top of a speaker. I also took notes. By the time I got back to the office in Waco, the White House had already put a transcript of the press conference on the White House Web site. Of course, I didn’t get to ask Bush a question — not a reporter from Waco among all the exalted members of the White House press corps! That’s okay. I asked him enough questions before and during the time he was governor of Texas.

The big political topic today is the roadside vigil being held on the road to the Bush ranch by Cindy Sheehan, whose son was killed in Iraq. A lot of words are being written about it in the blogosphere — both liberal and conservative.

No matter how you feel about the war in Iraq, you should have some respect and understanding for a grieving mother whose son was killed. I see instances where that isn’t happening among some of the right wing of the political spectrum.

I don’t know if these people see politics as blood sport or they are just so overmaxed with anger or whether they are just despicable human beings. Decency — as in treating your neighbor as you wish to be treated (I read something about that somewhere) — just seems to be thrown out the window among some of these people. And these same people often complain about the immorality of those who are their political opposites. Go figure.

I would say my political views are different from the vast majority of my friends. This has developed a number of great discussions and even arguments. But we take another drink and go on to the next topic. And guess what? We’re still friends.

It is dismaying what passes for political discourse in this country. It’s more coarse than discourse. On the left, right and down the middle, if you don’t march in lock step you are a moron, or an asshole, or a traitor, your feet stink and you don’t love Jesus.

I guess there’s always been a certain amount of intolerance among some for the political views are others. I know that it’s more pronounced because of today’s information technology. I would be willing to bet there is more intolerance than in the past. That’s just a guess.

Maybe my ideas about conducting civil political discussions are reflective of my upbringing. My parents were of the Depression era. I think being able to get along with one another was of great importance in those days because so many people were in the same boat and only had each other. I don’t know. I wish people were nicer. I wish I was nicer. Can’t we all just get along? Should I even ask?