wombat_socho (wombat_socho) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

before the orientation

Interesting article in Esquire about drone crews. (Instapundit)

Didn't accomplish much around the burrow today. I did sort out and shelve some cassettes and other leftovers from the ongoing reorganization, make some calls, and fire off some resumes to various folks on Craigslist, but that was about it. Really tired today despite backing off the Clindamycin from 9 to 6 pills/day, which I think is what I should have been doing all along. I'll find out for sure Monday. Sort of related: blood sugar has been in the green for a couple of days now.

Carlos is the proud new owner of a cardiac stent, so he should be good for another five years/50,000 miles or whatever those things are warrantied for.

Finished rereading William Manchester's Goodbye Darkness, which is a very strange mix of memoir, military history, and travelogue that mostly revolves around Manchester's pilgrimage to the Pacific battlefields where he and his fellow Marines spent so much time and blood, sometimes for little return. I feel differently about this book now than I did when I first read it some twenty years ago; Manchester's rage and frustration at the younger generation seems petulant and somehow unconscious of the fact that the Woodstock generation and the Gen X'ers are what the men and women who fought World War II made them, for they were our parents and grandparents, after all. His scorn and disbelief that today's generation of soldiers and Marines are up to the standards of Guadalcanal, Peleliu, Saipan and Okinawa is belied by the fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, I think; is anyone isn't up to the standards of those days, it is today's politicians. Well, perhaps someone who survived the hell of Okinawa is entitled to some bitchiness in his old age, and there is no denying that whatever shortcomings Goodbye, Darkness has, that his other biographical and historical epics more than compensate for it.
Tags: books, domestic stuff, family drama, medical stuff

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.