TBT…

How we spent Sunday nights… 60 years ago!

The Ed Sullivan Show! LONG before MTV, VH-1, or any of those copycats…

For most of us, it was the first time we’d actually ‘seen’ any of the bands actually sing, unless one was lucky enough to be in a big enough city to see them on tour.

Sigh… LCS…

Just needs to go away as a class… Spend the money on FFX and move on.

The U.S. Navy hopes to boost the number of days the littoral combat ship is operational by targeting the drivers of down time: design flaws in 32 parts that need to be replaced and a sluggish contractor-based maintenance model that needs to be made more responsive.

<snip>

He said today it can take as long as three weeks to identify the right technical experts and get them to a deployed LCS to start fixing it; he wants to trim that down to five days.

NORMAL availability 2 weeks a month? 32 parts/design flaws? WTH???

Full article HERE from Defense News.

And this isn’t ‘all’ the problems. The crews ‘routinely’ have to work 12-14 hour days at sea, if there are no major problems. And the whole ‘crew swap’ thing has been tried before with little success, as there is no ‘pride’ in ownership when you’re moving on/off anything on a regular basis. We tried that in aviation squadrons 10+ years ago with ‘combined’ maintenance staff,  and three years later dumped that concept, then took a year to get airplanes back to ‘minimum’ levels of cleanliness and operational ability.

LCS is much like the F-35 in that parts/etc. are spread through so many congressional districts that no congresscritter wants to kill either program, fearing loss of jobs.

Grrrr…

Rimworld snippett…

A redo on this one after some input from various points of view. I ‘think’ I’ve got it cleaned up and a bit more readable… Comments/recommendations appreciated as always.

Chapter

Ton’Skel was morose and listless for the next two days, sometimes coming out of his room to watch more e-tainment histories. He was often growling at the screen, even as he watched program after program. He ate as much if not more than before, was quietly polite to Fargo and attentive to the animals, but he had obviously changed.

Fargo finally asked him on the morning of the third day, “Are you going to be all right, Ton?”

Ton’Skel looked across the table at him. “I…am fine. I have something I must do now. I must…how do you say, prepare to avenge my family honor. It is very probable that I will die in the attempt. I am young, inexperienced, and do not have the skills I need.” His eyes changed color as he asked plaintively, “How can I possibly defeat those I must challenge?”

Cocking his head, Fargo asked, “How do you challenge them? I…know little of your actual lifestyle or how you do things over there.”

“It must be an open challenge. If possible, one challenges the head of the family. It is one-on-one combat, to the death. No quarter is given, ever! To give quarter would be…to shame one’s heritage.”

Fargo shook his head. “Shame your heritage or theirs?”

“My heritage. We…only power is…respected. To give quarter is to…” he threw up his hands. “I do not know the words.” He looked sharply at Fargo. “Why…do you not kill me? You have killed my kind. That you do not, does that not bring shame on you?”

Leaning back, Fargo thought for a few seconds. “No, honor, for us means to respect something or someone. We honor the accords signed for diplomatic immunity. To…violate them would bring dishonor…shame to us. And we do not make war on children.” He held up his hand to forestall Ton’s next question. “Yes, I have killed Dragoons in battle. But I do not like killing for the sake of killing. What I have done is nothing in comparison to what many, if not all the Ghorka have done. We do not kill now unless for self-protection, or for food, or to take care of predators. Yes, I have killed a Dragoon here on Hunter. That was…over a year ago. One of your hidden outposts was located, and we…removed it. I did not take pleasure in that, but it was necessary to protect the settlers on the planet.”

Ton’Skel looked at him as he got up. “We had…a…outpost you called it, here?”

Fargo poured himself the last cup of coffee and leaned against the center counter, remembering that Jace said there was now a basement underneath it. I…need to find out what is down there, but not now. Maybe later. “What do you call them?”

“They are… we call it proving. A young warrior is sent with a small cadre of troops and Trader support to establish themselves on a new world. They must find precious metals and…send those back to their family. If they do, they are allowed to keep the world. If they fail, they are sent into combat until they die. This is to…keep the family strong.”

“The mothers, er, matriarchs don’t say anything about this?”

Ton’Skel shook his head. “No, they are the…keepers of the family. I…they do not fight in combat. They…I do not have the words.” Frustrated, he growled. “In my culture, those in power do as they will. No one will contradict them. Or at least not where anyone can see that being done. If it is ever done, it is only in private with only…family leader there.” He got up in frustration. “I…must think. I will go run now.”

Fargo nodded. “Enjoy the run. I am willing to talk any time.” Cattus and Canis got up and made for the door, sitting quietly until Ton’Skel opened it, then squirted out the door past him. Fargo sent a thought, “Watch and follow.” He felt both the animals acknowledge the command and stood as the door closed. Now to find out what the hell Jace meant about this basement he put in.

He went to the window and watched Ton running easily down the field and quickly stepped into the kitchen. Running his hand up the side of the center island, he felt a tingle and heard a click. He gave a gentle shove, and the island slid noiselessly to the side. He looked down a set of steps and saw soft white light showing a white floor. He glanced around, then went carefully down the steps. At the bottom he stopped and looked around slowly. Damn! This…is amazing!

He walked slowly around the basement, amazed at how cleanly the walls, floor, and ceiling had been done. The small reactor sat in the far corner by itself. But there were a number of other things that caused him to wonder. A box, emitting a blue glow, sat against the wall underneath the stairs. It drew his attention, and he crouched to look at it. “Like your new digs?”

“Jace? Is…that you?”

“Of course. I took the liberty of adding a copy of myself here. I also am fully functional, including an additional FTL antenna concealed on the roof. Oh, and midway on the left-hand wall, there is a portal there. Go stand in front of it.”

“How…I mean, you’re communicating directly with me now.”

“I’ve matched the wavelength on your neural net. I can speak directly to you anywhere in the house and ten to fifteen yards outside the house.”

Fargo walked over and stood in front of the wall. “Now what?”

“Step forward.”

“But?”

“Close your eyes and step forward.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and took a step. “Another step!” He took a second step and felt the temperature drop. Quickly opening his eyes, he could see a tunnel stretching out in front of him. He turned around and saw the basement as if through a thin piece of cloth.

“What the hell?” He blurted out as he stepped back into the cellar.

“Holo projector covers the entrance. It runs all the way up to the tree line. It comes out in some boulders up there, just below the waterfall. Oh, and you have a deposit of gold up there. I took the liberty of having the fabber convert the nuggets it found while digging the tunnel into two bars. They’re in the cabinet on the left.”

Fargo looked around in amazement again. “I…it’s hard to believe you got all this done so…quickly.”

“Mechs and fabbers can do wonders when they are left alone.”

He took the steps up to the kitchen and slid the island back into position, hearing it click into place. Just as he started to get a drink, the e-tainment center beeped twice for an incoming vid. He quickly stepped back into the living room and said, “Accept.”

The screen blinked on to show a bearded face. Fargo remembered him and said, “Ethan Fargo, may I help you, Mr. Remington?”

Remington smiled and replied, “I hope so Mister Fargo, I’m on my way down to Hunter. Should be ground side tomorrow morning. I’d like to meet with you at the same place as before. I…need your help again.”

“SP one, at zero nine. Got it, main conference room at the administration building. See you then.” With that, the screen went black, and the disconnected symbol popped up. So, Mr. Remington, Rick, needs me to hunt something? Silverbacks again? I wonder where? And…damn, what am I going to do with Ton? He shrugged. Well, he can get by for a few hours while I run down to Rushing River. But if I have to go on a hunt…better see what Jace is doing. I might need a shuttle and just take Ton with me.

***

The next morning at zero seven, he hauled the liteflyer out of storage and configured it for cargo, since he needed to bring supplies back, and it also gave him an excuse to go see Mikhail, Luann, and Nicole. After warning Ton to stay close to the cabin, he told Cattus and Canis to watch and guard Ton. He launched for the spaceport. A warning of a new tight beam popped in on the navigation display, and he accepted it, remembering he needed to go see Mikhail about the next expansion of the tight beam links that TBT would be putting in.

He arrived at the spaceport a half div early and ambled over to the administration building. As he neared the building, Remington’s ship, Ol’ Betsy, came in for a landing. Ungainly, not in the slightest aerodynamic. It looked like somebody had chopped off a freighter just below the bridge and first deck and put a flat plate on the bottom. That was accentuated by the lander legs that looked grafted onto the four corners of the shuttle. Smiling, he continued on into the building and was greeted by Sergeant Omar, who asked, “Ho, lieutenant of the retired, meeting today you have?”

Fargo replied, “Ho Sergeant, meeting I have, people of importance come.” The sergeant waved him through, and Fargo went to the snack bar, picked up a bulb of coffee and headed for the conference room. He had just sat down when Remington walked in, came around the table, and stuck out his huge hand. “Ethan, good to see you.”

“What can I do for you, Rick? I sense a little bit of worry again.”

“I…have a new operation going in down at fifty south, one thirty east. I…there is advance word that a new crop of colonists are going to be set up down there. And it’s some prime land. I have…a contract to take out some old growth teak and mahogany just south of the new plat layout. And I did commission a survey. The trees are huge, averaging over a hundred feet tall. They notified me they had seen tracks, and felt ‘watched’, for lack of a better word. I did a fly by yesterday and got some IR hits on a sensor. I think it might be a pair of Silverbacks, or maybe two pair. My…sites are going to be about sixty miles apart, due to forest locations.”

Fargo asked, “What makes you think Silverbacks?”

“Well, I remembered what you told me about them being the apex predators, living in high places, and territorial. These camps are both in the mountains, between five and seven thousand feet up. And,” he paused for a few seconds, “I didn’t see a single other thing moving in either of those areas.”

Fargo nodded. “Sounds right. So, you didn’t actually see anything?”

“Well, I got this on IR.” Remington brought up a holo and they watched two pairs of hotspots moving around the high spots near both camps. “I don’t know what else they could be, and my systems aren’t really set up for high res scans,” he said apologetically.

“I think you’re probably right. Where are you looking at for the main camp and mill location?”

Remington switched the holo to map mode and five highlighted points popped up. “The blues are the cutting sites. The yellow are two different meadows that I can site habs in and also use as pickup points for Ol’ Betsy.” He zoomed the map in on a green point. “This is down by the river, looks like ten, maybe twelve acres of meadow. I plan to make this the mill site, habs, and the main pickup point for the skylift. I’m expecting to get something around a million board feet of lumber out of those two stands, probably three-fourths of it Mahogany, and one-fourth Teak.”

Fargo whistled. “That’s a lot of wood! I’m guessing that will make you a few credits.”

Remington laughed. “Oh yes, somewhere in the vicinity of forty million credits. Of course I have to take expenses out of that, and shipping, and…but I’ll still do all right.”

“Maybe I should up my fee…” Fargo smiled.

“Take out all four of…whatever they are, and I’ll gladly pay you eighty thousand credits. You want me to fly you down there?”

Fargo started to reply, Shit…if I do that, what do I do with Ton? Stuff him back with the…no, I’ll just talk to him and maybe take him with me. At least he’ll get a chance to see a different part of Hunter and maybe getting him away…Jace can loan us a shuttle. Remington looked at him and he finally said, “No, I’ve got…a shuttle I can use, and if this is going to be a new site, I can get with Mikhail and do a preliminary site survey for him, which will give me the shuttle for a few days.”

Remington sighed, and Fargo sensed worry when he’d mentioned Mikhail. Now Remington looked pleadingly at him. “Please don’t say anything about the…new settlement. I’m…not supposed to know about it.”

“I need to talk to him about some security updates, if he mentions it, I’ll just act surprised.”

“Thank you!” He slid a credit chip across the table. “Here is half of the credits due. The others when you finish, as usual.”

Fargo swept the credit chip up. “Thanks. It might take a week or so.”

“No problem, we’re a month out from setting up, anyway. We’re going to pull the equipment from Evergreen over there, and I need to have my maintenance folks go over it with a fine-toothed comb before we move it.”

***

Mikhail was behind the counter when Fargo walked in. “Fargo! This is a surprise. I was going to vid you tomorrow. We’re going to have our quarterly meeting this afternoon, but I didn’t think you’d want to attend, all things considered.”

He sensed satisfaction from Mikhail and felt Luann coming from the back where they lived, Ian and Inga following her. Mischievously, he ducked down, and Mikhail smiled. The kids came around the end of the counter and he pounced on them, tickling them as he picked them up. Luann shook her head. “Ethan, stop that! You’re going to get those two riled up, and they never will go down for their naps.”

Inga grabbed him around the neck and squealed as he tickled her and piped, “I don’t want nap.”

Ian asked, “Unka Ethan, you stay for lunch?”

He glanced at Luann, and she smiled. “Your timing is just about right. Lunch will be ready in a div. Have you seen Nicole yet?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, that’s where I was going next.”

“Bring her back with you then. There’s plenty for all, and I want to hear about what went on in White Beach.” Mikhail rolled his eyes at that, and Luann smacked him on the shoulder. “Well, you didn’t tell me what was happening, so I will get it from the source.”

Fargo set the kids down and glanced at Mikhail. “What time is the quarterly?”

“Fourteen. You’ve got plenty of time.” Mikhail reached under the counter and came up with the dongle for the runabout. “Go see Nicole. We’ll be here.”

Five segs later he pulled up in front of The Copper Mug, hopped down and tromped through the slush to the front door. Slipping in, he called out, “Nicole, are you here?”

He heard something about the kitchen and sensed her frustration, winced and walked back. She was bent over the prep table doing something, and Hugh was hiding in the far corner with a scared expression on his face. “Am I interrupting something?”

Nicole turned around and blew her hair out of her face. He chuckled at the flour on her nose, and she snapped, “What’s so funny?”

He grabbed a clean towel and gently wiped the flour off. “You had a white nose. It was…”

“Don’t you dare say cute! I’ll—”

Fargo smiled. “Okay, I won’t say it’s cute. Do you want to go to lunch with Mikhail and Luann?”

“When?”

“Um…now?”

She glared at him. “Really? Now? Looking like…” She looked at Hugh. “Do you think you can get the mixture right this time?”

He gulped. “Yes, ma’am. I…won’t mess it up again, I promise!”

Nicole relented. “Hugh, I know you try. That’s all I can ask. I’m going to lunch, when I get back, we’ll work on the other pastries, then get ready for the dinner crowd.” She grabbed Fargo and dragged him back to her apartment. “Pull out something for me to wear while I run through the fresher.”

That stopped Fargo cold. I don’t know what…or where… He frantically looked around the bedroom and remembered there was a closet on the far side of the bed. Opening it, he sighed in relief. Now, what color…and warm, it’s cold out there, and she gets cold… He pawed through and finally pulled out a dark green pair of pants and a lighter green sweater, laying them on the bed just as Nicole came out of the fresher.

“Do I get to wear underwear?” She asked with a laugh as she pulled the various things out of a chest.

He blushed and stuttered as she quickly pulled on the bra, panties, and socks. Cocking her head as she slipped them on, she looked at the combination of sweater and pants. “Not too bad. I’ve never actually worn those together, but they do work.” Pulling on the sweater, pants, and boots, she grabbed his arm. “Okay, let’s go!”

Luann had pumped both of them over lunch for the details of the trial and aftermath, especially after sending the kids up to study. Mikhail shook his head and didn’t say anything, but did wince when Nicole brought up the lack of corporate support for Ethan in court.

Luann probed deeper with Nicole, asking why Ethan had been set up, and Nicole finally said, “It really boiled down to Gann wanting to blame somebody else for her own failure. And the entire structure of the ‘government’ here is nothing more than a Ponzi scheme to allow the higher ups to enrich themselves by raking off as much money as the company will let them get away with. Fargo was the first one to ever stand up to them, much less be able to pull in enough intelligence to actually overcome the…built in corruption in the system.”

“So this is why you couldn’t help Ethan then?” She asked Mikhail.

“Yes, in a nearnut shell…the…implied threat to me was that I would be removed if I helped him in any way. And they have enough power, or had enough power to do that. That would have…been bad for us, as there would have been no way for us to make it here, and we would have lost everything.”

Fargo finally interrupted, “Enough. Mikhail did what he had to, to protect you, Ian, and Inga. It’s over. Just drop it.” He projected calm to Luann and she visibly relaxed.

***

Nicole, Luann, and the kids were cleaning up after lunch, with Fargo kibitzing when Tuck Jergens walked into the store. Mikhail led him through the back to his office and got him a bulb of coffee. Fargo grabbed one and followed them back to Mikhail’s office. The three of them sat around the table in Mikhail’s office chatting about the weather until the other techs remoted in.  Mikhail brought up a holo and quickly ran through the latest updates, status, and pending work finally asking, “Any questions?”

A chorus of, “Nope, not really,” were heard as the techs, and Fargo digested the latest update on Hunter’s TBT status, and the plans for the next months.

Finally, Jergens, the lead for Adelaide, down in the southern hemisphere asked, “Mate, the expansion down in our area is complete, for now. We’ve got enough services built out to support another couple of thousand Aussies supposedly coming in on the next colony run. That will put us over twenty K people in the service area.”

Mikhail grimaced, “Yes, I’ve heard we are actually getting the folks. I’ve pinged White Beach last week, but trying to get any plascrete information out of them is—”

Meredith, the tech in White Beach snickered. “After what Fargo did, do you really expect anything coming out of their mouths to be true?”

Payson, the farming region tech asked, “Do we have a status on the Geosync’ed sats? You mentioned that before and said you hadn’t heard back from Earth on approval, or any of those sats even being allocated to this sector. I get anymore expansion and I’m out of height for subfeeder transmission due to the navigation requirements.”

Mikhail scrubbed his face. “I’ve been told officially they are approved and on the way, supposedly on the next colony ship. We’re allocated eight for Hunter, but I’m not sure we can really use more than four effectively.” He keyed a different view into the holo, showing Hunter and the location of the transformers/power units. Four green dots started flashing above the planet as it rotated. “These locations will give us…fifty percent expansion over the next ten years.”

Mikhail finished presenting the satellite locations he had come up with, and looked at Jergens, “Any of you see a problem with this?”

Jergens shook his head, “Nope. There isn’t any other way to get that much power to those remote areas.”

Mikhail glanced at Fargo, “You?”

Fargo shrugged, “Security costs. We’ll have to pay GalPat to provide security for them. Realistically, we’re going to need a second, exo-planet shuttle, if we have to service them.”

Mikhail winced at that, “Really? What about leasing one on an as needed basis?”

“Well, that might work, or maybe we can borrow one from the GalPat det.”

Mikhail mumbled, “Guess I’ll go talk to the Major.” He looked at the holo again. Payson? Meredith? Comments, questions?”

Payson shook his head and Meredith replied, “No, boss. I’ll keep my ear to the ground down here though.”

“That will be appreciated. That’s it folks. Same time next month.”

After an early dinner, Fargo loaded up the liteflyer with the things he’d needed, took Nicole back to the Copper Mug and got Mikhail to drop him at the spaceport.

Pushing the speed up to just under what would classify as emergency, he was gliding in for a landing forty-five segs after taking off from Rushing River. As he came in on short final, he didn’t see Canis or Cattus. Stretching his empathic sense, he could feel the animals quite a distance from the cabin in the direction of the falls with Ton.  He unloaded it, hit the button to configure it for storage, pushed it into the shed, and carried the loads into the cabin.

 

Midway and D-Day…

Two years almost to the day apart, but signal events in the US and allied conduct of WWII…

The battle of Midway was joined after these gents found the Japanese Fleet 700 miles from Midway on 3 June 1942… They were the attack force, not the main body, but started the whole battle with that sighting.

Standing, left to right: AMM2c R. Derouin, ACRM Francis Musser, Ens. Hardeman (co-pilot), Ens. J.H. “Jack” Reid (aircraft commander) and Ens. R.A. Swan (navigator). Kneeling, left to right: AMM1c J.F. Gammel, AMM3c J. Groovers and AMM3c P.A. Fitzpatrick.

On the morning of 4 June, then LT Howard P. Ady, Jr., while flying a patrol in his PBY-5A, first spotted a single aircraft on a course to Midway. His first report on the enemy early that morning (one word: “Aircraft”) was soon followed by more detailed reports:

0534 “Enemy Carriers”

0540 “ED 180 sight 320”

0552 “Two carriers and main body of ships, carriers in front, course 135, speed 25”

In one of the ‘ironies’ if you will, NIPPI, the rework facility at Atsugi, JA, chose to paint a P-3 for the 50th anniversary of the airframes’ service.  Their choice?

Yes, they painted the ‘tribute’ airplane with Strawberry 5’s numbers…

D-Day was officially called “Operation Overlord,” and combined the forces of 156,115 U.S., British and Canadian troops, 6,939 ships and landing vessels, and 2,395 aircraft and 867 gliders that delivered airborne troops.

It was and still is the largest amphibious landing every attempted. While there was little for ‘patrol planes’ to do, the Navy had a large part in the landings and supporting the troops as they tried to get off the beaches.

One example is the USS Herndon (DD-638) and USS Shubrick (DD-639), built within months of each other at the Norfolk Navy Yard during the early part of the war. They were assigned to the same destroyer squadron and would fight near each other during the D-Day invasion, providing fire support and taking on the German guns, pillboxes, and machine gun nests…

Full article, HERE.

One other thing that is often missed is the work done by Beachmasters; their job was to get troops and material off the beach as quickly as possible, often under intense fire… Article, HERE.  There is a podcast on the page that gives some of their stories.

The other Navy contribution(s) were landing craft of all types, HERE.  The ones most used were the LCVPs, which deposited at platoon (36 men) at a time. Link HERE.  Originally not armored, by the time of D-Day, most, if not all had been armored to some extent. The problem was that the Coxswain was exposed to the elements/gunfire/etc. due to the height of the bow ramp.

While the ‘initial’ assault took place on 6 June, landings continued on the beaches at Normandy through the end of June, with the Allies landing approximately 850,000 men and 150,000 vehicles in beaches.

A full collection of D-Day things are HERE at History.com

Snerk…

It’s amazing what you sometimes find floating around on old hard drives…

From 1996… A classic flame…

SUBJECT: Re: 30009 — Warning! Don’t download!!! DATE: 14 Mar 1996 00:06:52 GMT

ORGANIZATION: Netcom

Dear:

[x] Clueless Newbie

[x] Lamer

[  ]  Me too er

[x] Perver

[x]  Spammer

[  ]  Nerd

[  ]  Fed

[  ]  Freak

You Are Being Flamed Because:

[  ]  AOLer

[  ]  Geek Elvis

[  ]  Scientologist

[  ] You posted a “test” in a newsgroup other than alt.test

[  ] You posted warez in pieces LESS than 5000 lines

[x] You spammed an answer of a spam TO THE WRONG GROUPS

[  ] You quoted an ENTIRE post in your reply

[ ] You continued a long, stupid thread

[  ] You started an off-topic thread

[  ] You posted a “YOU ALL SUCK” message

[  ] You said “me too” to something

[x]      You suck

[  ] You brag about things that never happened

[x] Your sig/alias/server sucks

[  ] You made up slang then used it in a message

[  ] You posted a phone-sex ad

[  ] I don’t like your tone of voice

[  ] I think you might be a fed

To Repent, You Must:

[ ]  Be the PR guy for Canter & Siegel

[ ] Give up your AOL account

[x] Bust up your modem with a hammer and eat it

[x] Jump into a bathtub while holding your monitor

[ ] Actually post something relevant

[ ] Read the FAQ

[ ] Be Senator Exon’s love slave

[ ] Be the guest of honor in alt.flame for a month

[ ] Post your tests to alt.test

In Closing, I’d Like to Say:

[ ] Blow me

[ ] Get a life

[ x ] Never post again

[ ] I pity your dog

[ ] Go to hell

[ ] Yer mamma’s so fat/stupid/ugly that etc…

[x] Take your s**t somewhere else

[ ] Learn to post or f**k off

[ ] All of the above end flame

What happens next???

WELL CRAP… scheduler didn’t work… sorry…

When doctors can’t tell the truth in their own professions/hospitals/practices???

“Wokeness feels like an existential threat,” a doctor from the Northwest said. “In health care, innovation depends on open, objective inquiry into complex problems, but that’s now undermined by this simplistic and racialized worldview where racism is seen as the cause of all disparities, despite robust data showing it’s not that simple.”

“Whole research areas are off-limits,” he said, adding that some of what is being published in the nation’s top journals is “shoddy as hell.” 

Full article, HERE, from Substack.

This is truly scary. Makes one long for the old country doctor that made house calls and actually ‘knew’ the patients.

I ran into an absolute cluster#$#@ yesterday at the local hospital. I had a referral from the VA to go get an x-ray on my hip so that I didn’t have to drive 2 hours each way to get it done at the VA.

I had ‘my’ paperwork with a referral number etc. Called the hospital about 1000 in the morning, was told “Oh, Radiology is a walk in. We have your paperwork, just come on it and they can do it.” I go down there at 1330, walk in and…

“Oh, we need the actual referral from your primary care doctor.”

Uh, you already have it… or had it as of 1000 this morning. Nope, mysteriously no longer there…

So I call the VA, get through to my care team and hand the phone to the admissions lady. She tells the nurse what is required, which the nurse told her had already been sent. Admissions lady goes off, comes back 10 minutes later, “No, there is nothing on file for you. You’ll have to have the VA resubmit it.”

I call the care team back, they say they sent another copy to the fax number they were given. I waited another fifteen minutes and called the hospital schedulers back. Nope… Nothing received…

I left, needless to say NOT in a good mood. I talked to the OKC VA folks on the way home, and they told me the document had been resent at 1350 (WHILE I WAS SITTING THERE)…

I’m going to make some calls on Monday to the Ombudsman at the horsepistol and give them a piece of my mind. And if they can’t find the #@$%% referral again, I’ll be driving to OKC to get the damn x-ray…

Oh, and the horsepistol is requiring everyone be masked… except all the employees have theirs pulled down until you walk up to their desks… [email protected]#$$#@ WuFlu theater!!!

An interesting set of links…

Ammo.com isn’t just a site for ammunition, they have been broadening their articles in their base, and the latest is Pat Buchanan. From what ‘I’ remember, Buchanan was always a hard line conservative, never wavering in his beliefs.

Pat Buchanan continues to be a conservative icon for generations in the United States, holding the line on conservative issues at a time when conventional wisdom said that it was time to give up the ship. While many on the right hate the very idea of journalism today, Pat Buchanan is a journalist through and through – he received his training in journalism and continues to work in it to this very day.

Full article, HERE.

But if you scroll down to the bottom of the page, there is a rather interesting set of names under the Ammo.com’s Resistance Library: Unsung Heroes

There are very well researched short bios that span both years and ‘interests’, from Annie Oakly, Susan B. Anthony, and Sojurner Truth to Roof Koreans by way of Butch O’hare and others. Well worth the time to read them.

TBT…

Kinda, sorta… Author unknown on this one, but pretty much how I feel anymore…

I grew up and spent most of my life basing my interactions with people on their character, NOT their color or beliefs. In the military all we cared about was that the other people did their jobs so we could do ours and make it home to fly again the next day. I’ve spent considerable time outside the USA, including in 3rd world countries and seen man’s inhumanity to man. In business, it was about professionalism, honesty, and integrity. Now???

I never cared about your political affiliation, until you started to condemn me for mine.

I never cared where you were from in this great Republic, until you began condemning people based on where they were born and the history that makes them who they are.

I have never cared if you were well off or poor, because I’ve been both, until you started calling me names for working hard and bettering myself.

I’ve never cared if your beliefs are different than mine – until you said my beliefs are wrong.

I’ve never cared if you don’t like guns, until you tried to take my guns away.

I’ve never cared about race matters, until you called be a racist for being white.

But, now I care.  

I’ve given all the tolerance I have to give. This is no longer my problem. It’s your problem. You can still fix it.  It’s not too late.  But it will be. Soon.

I’m a very patient person at times. But I’m out of patience. There are literally Tens of Millions of people just like me that are sick of all your Anti-American crap!

I’ve always cared about life, and all lives, but now you try to force the notion on me and my other fellow citizens and patriots that certain lives matter more than others. You protest, riot, attack, burn and loot. Your so-called “movement” has become a radical out-of-control bunch of thugs, criminals and anarchists who are doing harm to our Country.

We have had enough! America is the greatest country on Earth, and if you don’t like America, then you can LEAVE. We are done caring about your misguided “feelings”.

You don’t have the right to enjoy American freedoms if you are trying to take that right away from other Americans.

De Facto segregation???

Is that where we’re headed?

If you’re vaccinated you are in this line, allowed to do x,y,z… and you get this nicky-neat little ‘passport’ that allows you to go places and do things.

If you’re not- Go over there, mask up, sit in the corner until we call you and browbeat you to take the vaccine for the chilluns… And we’re gonna give it to your chilluns whether you like it or not. And no school for you or your chilluns, or travel, or venues…

But yet… State Department travel advisories state you must STILL have a negative test, even if vaccinated…

Referenced from HERE.

And then there’s the whole ‘lack’ of prosecution of ‘minor’ crimes, no bond, immediate release for ‘minor’ crimes, etc. Reduction in traffic stops, etc. Chicago just came out with a ‘new’ directive stopping foot pursuits for anything less than a Class A misdemeanor.  You can go HERE and see a list of what will no longer be chased either on foot or by patrol vehicles… sigh…

And in Texas, the Dems took their ball and went home because they didn’t like the fact that the ‘new’ voting laws take away their one time good deal of 24 hour voting and drive up voting (done because of the WuFlu). So Gov Abbott is expected to call them back or just not pay them, article HERE. The question is, where will they run this time? Mexico again? Oklahoma? I wonder if you can extradite a state rep for malfeasance in office???

Busy…

Beta reading for two different authors, plus trying to write on Rimworld #4, plus a little home improvement project…

There is a REASON to buy prehung doors… Grrrr…

This sumbitch took a half day to get installed… Of course the @*(*&#)@! frame was crooked… And tearing off all the crap to get to the frame itself was a non-starter, which is why I didn’t get a prehung one to start with.

Soooo, I ended up using a trick I was taught 50 years ago by an old master carpenter I helped out when I was a teenager. I had to chisel out and inset the top hinge on both the door and the frame, and leave the bottom hinge proud on both the frame to get the door to ‘pull’ in far enough in to actually fit on the other side.

And I proved once again that chisels are sharp… sigh

Yes, I know it ‘opens’ the wrong way, but the entry to that bath is ‘small’, and having the door open in would reduce that space even more, so I made it open out, since I don’t have to get into the linen closet to the right all that often.

And then cooked burgers and brats for a few folks that came over to remember those we’ve lost. It was a long day, but a good day, and time spent with friends is always special, especially when everyone kicks in and helps get things ready.

Light posting and commenting today, lots of reading to do, y’all go read the folks on the sidebar.