On you we all depend.
To serve, to stand, support our war,
Our fallen to defend.
Stand firm, stand brave before our Wall;
Deal those a sorry fate,
Who answer Fonda’s hateful call:
Our nation they must hate.
Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Your keen eyes see below,
The leftist fools oppose this war,
To them no low’s too low.
They seek our Wall to desecrate,
To enhance their losing cause;
They seek to doom our nation’s fate;
They see nothing but our flaws.
Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Above those who seek defeat,
Who seek submission, nothing more,
To a terror they can’t meet.
They falter when the course is long;
They’re weak-willed, failed and bitter;
Got it all entirely wrong,
So typical of a quitter.
Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Stand proud before our Wall;
You are the nation’s heart, the core,
The essence of us all.
Know that we stand there with you,
In spirit and in soul,
America’s not lost, not through,
We’ve a long, long way to go.
Fly high you Eagles, soar, from your lofty, special station,
Know this is true forever more; you’ve the blessing of your nation.
I’ve received several emails and a few comments inquiring into my well being, presumably because of my lack of blogging as of late. I am fine. I’ve recently taken up the art of juggling and have discovered that I’m no artist. Let me explain…
A little over three weeks ago, the lovely and talented and downright sexy Mrs. Hook went into the hospital for surgery. Nothing serious, a medical procedure that her doctor thought necessary, but not life threatening. The surgery went well, and after a few days of recovery in the hospital TLATADSMH came home with strict orders for at least one week of limited duty. My juggling began, though I had help from my very gracious mother-in-law who flew in to our undisclosed location to lend a hand (something I hear professional jugglers don’t need).
Right about the time doctors were pouring over TLATADSMH, I came down with a cold, then Renegade Ryan did too. A couple of days later, Typhoon Tyler of Trieste missed a day of school because of the bug and that very afternoon, Andrew the Adventurous came home from school and went right to bed, sick. If that wasn’t enough, TLATADSMH started running a fever and complaining of pain in the area where the surgeons had been poking around. A post-op check with the docs revealed the development of an infection, requiring the TLATADSMH to be re-admitted to the hospital for a heavy antibiotic treatment via IV.
Meanwhile, I’m still responsible for preparing some 700 soldiers for an upcoming deployment while managing 4 very active pirates. Can you imagine the balls floating in the air?
After several days of the IV treatment, it became clear to the docs that the infection was standing its ground. A second surgery insued, this one much more instrusive, and the infection was eradicated (we hope). After a few more days of recovery in the hospital, TLATADSMH came home again, this time under orders of absolutely no activity for at least a week. Oh, by the way, Castaway Conner had caught the bug during this time and 10 times worse than his fellow pirates. I ended up taking him in to see the doc for a high fever and prolonged sore throat. The diagnosis, strep. I juggle, I drop, but I continue to juggle.
Now, I don’t know about most 5-year olds, but giving my 5-year old swashbuckler his bubble gum flavored anitbiotic 3-times a day was hell. And though the other corsairs had all recovered from their bugs, I was still dragging ass with the cold from hell.
Fast forward to today….
My very gracious mother-in-law has since flown back home with my sincerest gratitude in hand, and all the boys are over their bugs, myself included, and most importantly, the lovely and talented and downright sexy Mrs. Hook is recovering nicely, feeling a little better everyday. Unfortunately, my juggling still sucks. Anyway, I hope that blogging will pick up some as I drift away from the art of juggling. Sgt Hook out.
My favorite Crotchety Old Bastard has launched the Oxygen Thief Hall of Fame and is currently accepting nominations.
After several weeks of negotiations, we have finally decided to begin the process of creating our OXYGEN THIEF HALL OF FAME. The Hall will be updated yearly by our panel with input from our readers.
The most critical issue right now is the Charter Members List. To that end, I humbly ask the readers here to submit their personal list and also ask that you send this request to friends, other bloggers, post on your own blogs, etc. The key is to create an unimpeachable inaugural class of Oxygen Thieves.
You can email your nominations to COB at Crotchety Old Bastard. The Hall of Fame is seeking nominations in the following categories…
POLITICS
ACTIVISTS
SCIENCE/EDUCATION
MEDIA
AT LARGE
ORGANIZATIONS
It started snowing just after noon today, flurries at first, then a steady, heavy snowfall. I was on my way to bed a couple of hours ago, when I decided to poke my head outside for a weather check. There was a good six inches of snow on the ground as flakes continued to fall. I paused for a moment, standing in the cold, quiet, dark of night, reveling in the peaceful moment thinking that I could actually hear snowflakes landing softly around me.
And then I had a brilliant idea. It occurred to me that I could make a snowman near the front door to surprise the boys in the morning as they make their way to church. Now, two hours later, soaking wet and chilled to the bone, I’m back inside trying to get warm while my snow sculpture is complete, awaiting the boys’ arrival in the morning as snow continues to fall from the heavens. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Sgt Hook out.
All things considered, 2006 has been a great year and I want to thank each and every one of you for stopping by and visiting here at Sgt Hook. I look forward to seeing you all again in 2007 and hope that you ring in the new year merrily and safely. My sincerest wishes for a fabulous 2007 to all.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
And here’s a hand, my trusty friend
And gie’s a hand o’ thine
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne
I don’t expect many folks are reading blogs this weekend, but if you are, consider answering this…how do you plan on ringing in the new year?
In my younger days, friends and I would celebrate through the night and into the wee hours of the morning. I recall one year, piling into a rental van and driving from Italy to Austria where we found the Austrian equivalent of a biker’s bar (based on the recommendation of a gas station attendant), trying hard not to live up to the “ugly American” reputation, we made some new friends, and rang that new year in with style. We had a blast.
In recent years, the lovely and talented and downright sexy Mrs. Hook and I tend to remain at home, or close to home, sharing a meal with friends or family and getting the kids worked up about the looming new year (they’ve yet to make it to midnight). This year, TLATADRSMH has an early morning flight to catch on the 1st so we’ll be taking it easy on the champagne, and considering I’ll have the merry band of pirates just to myself for the week (still on school break), I’ll need my rest.
What about you? How do you plan on ringing it in? Sgt Hook out.
It’s on the boob tube and it’s one of my all time favorites. And I’m watching it. Reminds me of my grandfather who not only sounded like William Wallace and his clan, but was also known to wear a kilt.
Admittedly, Mel Gibson took some license in stretching the story historically, but spiritually he captured the Scotsman dead on. Trust me. Sgt Hook out.
You may take our lives, but you’ll never take our freedom.
First I read this as directed. Then I read this. Now I’m looking around at my own walls and wonder how thick, how tall, how defensive they might be, if at all. I wonder if anyone else can see them, I wonder if they have graffiti on them and what it might look like. I wonder if my wall is covered with moss or vines, is it cracked, weatherbeaten, or cold? I wonder who else has walls. We all have walls, don’t we? I wonder. And then, as if on cue, from the radio I hear Pink Floyd…it’s just a nother brick in the wall.
This site is a collection of my writings, thoughts, and ramblings and in no way reflects the official positions of the United States Army or the Department of Defense. OPSEC trumps everything.
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In view of a recent tendency to identify characters in fiction with real people, it seems proper to state that there are no real people in this volume: both the characters and their names are ficticious. The names or designations of any military units are ficticious. There are no living people nor existing military units presented in this book.
-Ernest Hemingway
Halfway down the road to hell,
In a shady meadow green,
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddler's Green.
-Author Unknown
The Blog of War
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