The Weekly Standard’s article Operation Phantom Strike is a good read if you have the time this morning.
Falluja, Iraq
On August 15, several hours after night fell over Baghdad, an air assault squadron of the 3rd Infantry Division launched the first attack of Operation Marne Husky. A dozen darkened transport and attack helicopters took off and headed south along the Tigris River, carrying a full company of infantry–about 120 young riflemen with night goggles and weapons loaded. Their objective was a hamlet several dozen miles away. At about 11 P.M., the force landed and rapidly surrounded several small structures. The occupants were taken by surprise. Five suspected insurgents were captured. By 4 A.M., the entire team was airborne again.
Every night since then similar scenes have unfolded at dozens of locations in and around Baghdad–all part of a larger operation named Phantom Strike. The attacks involve units of all sizes and configurations, coming in by air and land. In some cases, the units get out quickly. In others, they pitch tents for an extended stay. The idea is to keep the enemy–al Qaeda and its affiliates–on the defense and constantly guessing, thereby turning formerly “safe” insurgent areas into areas of prohibitive risk for them.
Hat Tip: Rayra, the Marine blogger at GCP that makes liberals wet themselves just by reading his name.
That picture brings back fond memories of “field hopping” in my youth using an old beater kept around just for that purpose. Except you’re supposed to do it in the fall, after harvest time!.
Bean fields were generally the most fun.
/Farmers shouldn’t provoke other farmers to … drive sober.
//always more to the story.
///slashies = too much time reading fark
Rayra is still proud of his USMC service, as well he should be.
Murtha, OTH, is soon to be a defendant in a civil suit, and I don’t think he will be so proud to see his dishonorable words thrown back at him.
Daughter called; said they are putting their house on the market next week because they can’t afford the upward adjustment in the adjustable rate mortgage. (Duh.) “So, what are your plans?” “We’ve been looking at a house in X neighborhood, the house payment is only about $250 more a month than what we are paying.” WTF? “You can’t afford that house payment NOW, why are you getting one higher?” “Because that’s where husband wants to live and besides, that is what our new house payment here would be anyway.” “But you can’t afford it and you only have one income right now.” “Husband says he’ll work two jobs to make the mortgage.” (Really? Why isn’t husband working 2 jobs now to make the mortgage on the present place that he had to have?) “For 30 years?” “Momma, I am not even going to talk to you if you’re going to be all negative. Goodbye.”
This is the daughter who regularly calls me up and asks my why I didn’t tell her that moving into her current house was a really stupid idea. I did and yet it is still somehow All Ny Fault.
Swampie, while you might indeed need a therapist(henh), it’s certainly not for the questionable judgement your daughter and SIL are showing.
You are thyping is just phine.
SwampMan had reiterated last night that I was too old to do a construction job, and he has an interview set up for an office job tomorrow morning for me. I have a very low boredom index, a hatred of cubicles, a tendency to tell people exactly what I think when they ask for my opinion, and an extremely low toleration for stupidity which means that I do not do well in office jobs. Never have. I do not particularly like computers and know only as much as I need to get by with. This is a computer job. I hate spreadsheets. This job is spreadsheet heavy.
Nevertheless, SwampMan is convinced that this one last time will make all the difference and that I will be ecstatically happy in a boring, closed in environment doing repetitive tasks. I pointed out the unlikeliness of a happy ending to this and in addition, I would be making less money than the job that I just resigned because I could not cover my share of the bills. “But the insurance I will have to pay on you is going up to $600/month, and this job HAS INSURANCE!” Good deal. Maybe he will put that $600 month he won’t have to pay out into a special account for plastic surgery for me so that I can have my body redone so that I won’t look old when I’m living under that bridge.
I’ll go to the interview and let them know what I’m really like instead of trying to keep my personality firmly in check. If they can deal with me, I suppose I can make an effort. Damnit. I haven’t worn a suit in 5 years, and I need to shower and go shopping for one that is somewhat in style.
Am I too old? I went outside in the heat of the day to scythe about an acre of vines/weeds/thick grass along the fenceline. The scythe and I spent a few hours outside communing with nature (die, weeds, DIE!). I weighed myself when I went out, came back in, weighed, and have sweated off 5 lbs. without any ill effects. (To be immediately regained after downing a couple giant glasses of tea at the BBQ place where I’m going to drown my sorrows about shopping, of course.) I’m not overheated. I am not sore. I’m not even particularly tired. And I still don’t feel old.
There are crop circles, then there is…criminal vandalism.
Yeah, buddy. Hope there’s a chalk outline in the far end of that field.
yup. he’s got a butt kickin’ coming
Gotta get some rack time.
Nite y’all.
G’nite, Nuke.
N2l, I know you probably headin’ off to sleep too, so I’ll bid you g’nite as well.
/and get back to work.
Yeah, Swampie, winding down. Just had to have a nanner Twinkie, while watching a little southpark.
Nite, gal.
The Weekly Standard’s article Operation Phantom Strike is a good read if you have the time this morning.
Hat Tip: Rayra, the Marine blogger at GCP that makes liberals wet themselves just by reading his name.
That picture brings back fond memories of “field hopping” in my youth using an old beater kept around just for that purpose. Except you’re supposed to do it in the fall, after harvest time!.
Bean fields were generally the most fun.
/Farmers shouldn’t provoke other farmers to … drive sober.
//always more to the story.
///slashies = too much time reading fark
The The right to dry movement is growing. Just be sure and check the pants legs first for stray wasps, that’s all I’m sayin’.
Rayra is still proud of his USMC service, as well he should be.
Murtha, OTH, is soon to be a defendant in a civil suit, and I don’t think he will be so proud to see his dishonorable words thrown back at him.
Sigh. N2l, he has yet to recognize that his words were dishonorable.
Daughter called; said they are putting their house on the market next week because they can’t afford the upward adjustment in the adjustable rate mortgage. (Duh.) “So, what are your plans?” “We’ve been looking at a house in X neighborhood, the house payment is only about $250 more a month than what we are paying.” WTF? “You can’t afford that house payment NOW, why are you getting one higher?” “Because that’s where husband wants to live and besides, that is what our new house payment here would be anyway.” “But you can’t afford it and you only have one income right now.” “Husband says he’ll work two jobs to make the mortgage.” (Really? Why isn’t husband working 2 jobs now to make the mortgage on the present place that he had to have?) “For 30 years?” “Momma, I am not even going to talk to you if you’re going to be all negative. Goodbye.”
This is the daughter who regularly calls me up and asks my why I didn’t tell her that moving into her current house was a really stupid idea. I did and yet it is still somehow All Ny Fault.
I need a therapist.
And a typing tutor.
Swampie, while you might indeed need a therapist(henh), it’s certainly not for the questionable judgement your daughter and SIL are showing.
You are thyping is just phine.
SwampMan had reiterated last night that I was too old to do a construction job, and he has an interview set up for an office job tomorrow morning for me. I have a very low boredom index, a hatred of cubicles, a tendency to tell people exactly what I think when they ask for my opinion, and an extremely low toleration for stupidity which means that I do not do well in office jobs. Never have. I do not particularly like computers and know only as much as I need to get by with. This is a computer job. I hate spreadsheets. This job is spreadsheet heavy.
Nevertheless, SwampMan is convinced that this one last time will make all the difference and that I will be ecstatically happy in a boring, closed in environment doing repetitive tasks. I pointed out the unlikeliness of a happy ending to this and in addition, I would be making less money than the job that I just resigned because I could not cover my share of the bills. “But the insurance I will have to pay on you is going up to $600/month, and this job HAS INSURANCE!” Good deal. Maybe he will put that $600 month he won’t have to pay out into a special account for plastic surgery for me so that I can have my body redone so that I won’t look old when I’m living under that bridge.
I’ll go to the interview and let them know what I’m really like instead of trying to keep my personality firmly in check. If they can deal with me, I suppose I can make an effort. Damnit. I haven’t worn a suit in 5 years, and I need to shower and go shopping for one that is somewhat in style.
Am I too old? I went outside in the heat of the day to scythe about an acre of vines/weeds/thick grass along the fenceline. The scythe and I spent a few hours outside communing with nature (die, weeds, DIE!). I weighed myself when I went out, came back in, weighed, and have sweated off 5 lbs. without any ill effects. (To be immediately regained after downing a couple giant glasses of tea at the BBQ place where I’m going to drown my sorrows about shopping, of course.) I’m not overheated. I am not sore. I’m not even particularly tired. And I still don’t feel old.
I went to the DR today. I’ve lost 9 pounds in the 5 weeks since I last saw him. I guess walking home thru beantown has done me some good.