how I’ve changed
between VietNam and now

I sat and listened to Staff Sgt. Frank Wuterich tell his story on tonight’s 60 Minutes, the story of how in Haditha, Iraq, he and his squad were doing what they had been trained to do: responding to a perceived threat with legitimate force.
The VietNam War, with its various My Lai-type atrocities, made many of us peaceniks so angy that we too easily ignored the fact that both the perpetrators and the murdered were victims. Between now and then, we have learned more about how our soldiers are “brainwashed” into being amoral killing machines.
Apparently, it all began after the World War II, when United States Army lieutenant colonel named S. L. A. Marshall wrote “Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command in Future War.” I got the information about Marshall’s suggestions from a chilling article by Dan Baum that appeared in The New Yorker on July 5, 2004 and appears on the Not In Our Name website. That article includes the follwing:

“We are reluctant to admit that essentially war is the business of killing,” Marshall wrote, while the soldier himself “comes from a civilization in which aggression, connected with the taking of life, is prohibited and unacceptable.” The Army, having just fought the Second World War, embraced Marshall’s findings.

Within months, Army units were receiving a “Revised Program of Instruction,” which instituted many of Marshall’s doctrines. It was no longer sufficient to teach a man to shoot a target; the Army must also condition him to kill, and the way to do it, paradoxically, was to play down the fact that shooting equals killing. “We need to free the rifleman’s mind with respect to the nature of targets,” Marshall wrote. A soldier who has learned to squeeze off careful rounds at a target will take the time, in combat, to consider the humanity of the man he is about to shoot. Along with conventional marksmanship, soldiers now acquired the skill of “massing fire” against riverbanks, trees, hillcrests, and other places where enemy soldiers might lurk. “The average firer will have less resistance to firing on a house or tree than upon a human being,” Marshall added. Once the Army put his notions into practice, they bore spectacular results. By the time of the Vietnam War, according to internal Army estimates, as many as ninety per cent of soldiers were shooting back. And some were paying a price.

If you Google “American soldiers trained to kill,” you’ll get lots of additional enlightening articles.
As I’ve said before on this blog, war requires testosterone stirred to the extreme.
I have come to believe that what Sgt. Frank Wuterich needs and deserves is not a court martial, but rather intense deprogramming and compassionate psychotherapy. You might want to listen to this.
Actually, what the major leaders of this country also need and deserve are intense deprogramming and psychotherapy (with or without compassion).

I hope all pet owners heard the news

There’s a major recall of canned cat and dog food manufactured by Menu Foods. Go here to see the extensive list of pet food brands that are being recalled.
Menu Foods press release on this issue begins with this:

Menu Foods Income Fund (the “Fund”) (TSX:MEW.UN) today announced the precautionary recall of a portion of the dog and cat food it manufactured between December 3, 2006 and March 6, 2007. The recall is limited to “cuts and gravy” style pet food in cans and pouches manufactured at two of the Fund’s United States facilities. These products are both manufactured and sold under private-label and are contract-manufactured for some national brands.

Over the past several days, the Fund has received feedback in the United States (none in Canada) raising concerns about pet food manufactured since early December, and its impact on the renal health of the pets consuming the products. Shortly after receipt of the first complaint, the Fund initiated a substantial battery of technical tests, conducted by both internal and external specialists, but has failed to identify any issues with the products in question. The Fund has, however, discovered that timing of the production associated with these
complaints, coincides with the introduction of an ingredient from a new supplier. The Fund stopped using this ingredient shortly after this discovery and production since then has been undertaken using ingredients from another source.

As my luck would have it, I feed my cat one of the recalled brands. She also eats dry cat food. But she’s been acting kind of funny lately — as though she’s not feeling well. You know, hiding under the bed, throwing up, not drinking much water…..
The cats who have been reported as ill from eating the cat food in question (some of whom have died) have all experienced renal failure.
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I threw out her canned cat food, and I’m keeping an eye on my Calli. Of course, she’s not hard to miss; she weighs almost 20 pounds!

the blarney of St. Paddy

If you read this blog, you know how much I’m enamored of mythology and how easy it is to trace just about all Christian myths to more ancient sources.
It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and you might not know that the purported St. Patrick was born in Scotland of two Roman parents, which makes him actually Italian.
It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and the following statements are excerpted from here:

Today we raise a glass of warm green beer to a fine fellow, the Irishman who didn’t rid the land of snakes, didn’t compare the Trinity to the shamrock, and wasn’t even Irish. St. Patrick, who died 1,507, 1,539, or 1,540 years ago today—depending on which unreliable source you want to believe—has been adorned with centuries of Irish blarney. Innumerable folk tales recount how he faced down kings, negotiated with God, tricked and slaughtered Ireland’s reptiles.

New Age Christians revere Patrick as a virtual patron saint. Patrick co-opted Druid symbols in order to undermine the rival religion, fusing nature and magic with Christian practice. The Irish placed a sun at the center of their cross. “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” Patrick’s famous prayer (which he certainly did not write) invokes the power of the sun, moon, rocks, and wind, as well as God. (This is what is called “Erin go hoo-ha.”)

And, to have some fun with St. Patrick trivia, go here.

My Unitarian Jihad Name

Thanks to Doug’s Dynamic Drivel for pointing me to this.

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Spikey Mace of Patience.

Get yours.

The need for this Jihad is being promoted by Jon Carroll at SFGate.com, where he posts the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad.
Included in the communique are statements such as these:

We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.

Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for “balance” by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.

[SNIP]

Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he’s pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.

Put your tongue in your cheek and go and read the whole thing.

misty moisty morning

One misty moisty morning
when cloudy was the weather
I chanced to meet an old man
clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment
and I began to grin.
How do you do?
And how do you do?
And how do you do, again.?

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It is that kind of morning, and I sit by the window outside my mother’s bedroom and think of that nursery rhyme I used to sing to b!X when he was a toddler. I don’t know where we first heard it. On Captain Kangaroo, I think.
This is the kind of day I always loved as a kid. I could curl up on the couch and read and nap all day. I could just lie there and let my mind wander, create those magical lands to which I could escape.
Although it is misty and moisty, it is not that kind of day here.
My mother had a bad night last night, tossing, turning, wrapping herself in her blanket. A hint of shroud.
She tends to sleep on her side, and she puts pressure on the nerve bundles at her shoulders. Her bones are fragile, and we can’t help wondering if she fractured something. She hurts at that spot at the tip of her shoulder and down her arm. We prop her up in bed so that she can lie on her back, put pillows under her knees. Her hands and feet are cold, and we turn on the electric blanket. I heat up the mirowaveable packs I made (filled with millet) and place one on each shoulder. We give her tea with honey. I think she’s dehydrated. She falls asleep.
I’m supposed to start my exercise program at Curves tomorrow. It’s the one thing I really need to do for myself. I really need to do that.
Her breathing is so shallow that I have to watch very closely to make sure that I can see her chest rise and fall.
I sit by the window on this misty moisty morning. The snow has melted everywhere but on the lake. I notice that we have a few new finches stopping by the feeders. The squirrels, annoyed that we have put a baffle above the bird feeder, have taken to climibng up the window screen to get to the suet cage. I look up and one is splayed, belly to my face, across the screen. They are supremely persisent.
Yesterday, I started going through my seed packets, hoping to get a head start on spring.
Today I sit by the window and envy the persistence of squirrels.
I hear a noise and see my mother standing in the doorway. She looks better. She has the persistence of squirrels.
Not relevant to anything here, today is the Ides of March.

odd news bits from Harper’s Tuesday

Check here for links to sources and for more scary news.

When accused of stealing lingerie from a shop, a German man told a court that his elf alter ego may have been to blame,[BBCnews.com] and a woman in Boston was suing Planned Parenthood and two doctors for childrearing costs after finding out she was still pregnant following an abortion.[Boston Globe]

A Pennsylvania mother pled guilty to swinging her infant son like a bat to hit her boyfriend,[AP via CNN.com] and after stabbing his wife multiple times a Connecticut man gave the knife to his son and said, “Now you stab mommy.”[AP via CNN.com]

A study claimed that girls shown videos of women suffering from eating disorders became more likely to view these women as “very pretty” and thought it would be “nice to look like” them,[Reuters] and low-dose estrogen and progesterone birth control pills were reported to reduce ovarian cancer risk.[Reuters]

The Navy was researching an electromagnetic beam that would penetrate walls and cause people to fall over and vomit.[Wired.com]

A human rights group in Israel accused the country’s army of using Palestinians, including an 11-year-old girl, as human shields,[BBCnews.com] and the Israeli ambassador to El Salvador was recalled after police found him in the embassy, drunk and naked except for bondage gear, with a rubber ball stuffed in his mouth.[BBCnews.com]

A man in England who had demonstrated against cartoons of the prophet Muhammad was found guilty of soliciting murder.[BBCnews.com]

The United Nations announced that Afghanistan’s yield of heroin poppies rose 25 percent last year.[BBCnews.com]

Osama bin Laden turned fifty.[Reuters via CNN.com]