Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in mcneil's LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, March 17th, 2009
7:00 pm	Posted from a 737 Southwest has free wireless on some flights, and free beer on st patrick's day. Why do people fly other airlines? (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 14th, 2008
10:41 pm	I heard an interesting comment on NPR this morning and would like more information from someone knowledgeable. One of the commentators said, "We're in a credit crisis, and every dollar borrowed by the Federal Government to pay 'economic stimulus' is a dollar that's not available to be borrowed by anyone else" I heard a counterpoint about the fed having access to monies not otherwise lent, but still, the fed gets the best rates of the credit market. If they borrow it, no one else can. So are we really just taking money out of the credit markets just to put it back in via large banks? unrelated: foreclosures on jumbo mortgages make me laugh. I told you, that house was never really worth $500k. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 30th, 2008
8:17 pm	The progressive recession I'm starting to think that the warning cries about how this financial mess will bring doom to the average American are unfounded. I also can't muster any sympathy for the majority of the foreclosure cases. If you put 0% down, finance closing costs, then pay interest only for years, what have you really lost during foreclosure? You probably weren't paying much more than you would have been renting, except you got the home mortgage tax break. People moved into ownership with little more up front cash than a security deposit. Their cost of foreclosure is the U-Haul truck to haul their junk to a rental. I'll agree that a tight credit market is going to slow job creation and make new ventures harder, but let's talk about those who already have jobs. What's a credit crunch going to do to a wage earner making $45k a year? He can't qualify for a loan on a big new car, so he buys used, or he buys smaller. He's already seeing fewer credit card offers (down as of this month), or his limits may be reduced. Why would he care that it costs 2 points more to get a Jumbo ARM now? Because of this "crisis", the temptations for him to live beyond his means will be reduced, he'll have to save more to make large purchases (what a concept!). I can't make any comments on the global ramifications of this mess, but I wish politicians would stop trying to convince me that this is going to directly hurt middle/low income folks, or that foreclosure is some form of victimization. (16 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 9th, 2008
3:47 pm	Why a 2008 civic gets worse mileage than a 1996 civic I just saw that a group of "concerned consumers" are pushing to increase the design factor of car roofs from 1.5 to 2.5. Their claim is that it will prevent 14 to 18 rollover deaths per year. It's also going to probably add 200-400 lbs to your average car. This, among other reasons, is why we keep making less and less efficient cars. Go out there and find me a car that weighs less than 2800 lbs. It doesn't exist, at least not for sale in this country. Everything is bigger, especially the small cars. Weight = ineconomy. It's unavoidable, more mass means more fuel consumption for any given shape factor. I find this subject relevant for this journal because of oil-death connection. Oil funds death unlike any other commodity out there except maybe hardcore narcotics. No matter how you want to spin it, oil money funds a lot of people we could do without, be it Al-Qaeda supporting Saudis, FARC-loving Chavez, enterprise crushing Putin, or rabid fundy texans. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, January 15th, 2004
4:52 pm	going, going.. A job well done, or so I was told. Time to go home. If you don’t hear from me for the next couple days, don’t worry, I’m alright, I’m just probably sleeping in some mil-air terminal waiting for my connection somewhere. It’s been fun. In the 6 months here, this place has gone from no contractor tracking whatsoever to 95% accountability (the best in theater). Instead of people wandering around lost on the airfield, there’s now a “contractor liason office” adjacent to the flightline (look for it when you arrive, you’ll find assistance there). Instead of a tent in the mud/dust, my replacement gets to move into a steel-framed hut with heat, AC and a place to park the HMMWV that is now his. He’s got an established network of site supervisors and other points of contact through which he can track and account every army contractor in the area. I did about everything I could have done here. Wrecked a bicycle. Fixed several trucks, and put about 3000 miles on mine. Met a wide variety of people, some of whom were interesting, some not, some who were just old and cantankerous. Saw a great variety of things, some that were spectacular, some not, some that were downright frightening. All in all, would I do it again? Probably not, well, at least not on this planet. I’ve been downloading every picture of the martian surface they have, and it looks like this place, but a bit more red. Solar powered HMMWV anyone? (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, January 2nd, 2004
8:53 pm	New Years in Iraq Nothing like the feast we had Christmas or Thanksgiving, but people still celebrated. Or at least I assume they did, since someone stole a HMMWV, smashed it into a concrete barrier, and left it in front of my hut. I woke up at 4 am with one of those sickening feelings of something suffering, looked outside, and saw I was right. Poor HMMWV was sitting right in front of my door, just around the corner from the jersey barrier that must have jumped out and bit it. Passenger side A-arm nearly ripped off the frame, probably doing about 20 mph when it hit. Driver nowhere to be found, but I’ll wager any sum that he was pretty saturated. Rather pisses me off that some feshnikit putz can trash a perfectly good truck like that and get away with it, but I suppose they’ve been known to take out more than just that. Currently in the process of packing things up, getting ready to leave. I’m intending to mail things home to lighten the load that I need to carry. Currently, I just have two bags, one of stuff the army gave me, and the other of stuff I actually need. I’m still not giving them back the galoshes, though. I also shaved again, for the first time since the September. This is making it into the journal because hygiene is noteworthy right now. Bit of a reorganization, and I’m in new quarters about 2-3 miles from the showers. I’ve found that a full beard collects too much dirt to go 4 days between showers, same with anything other than real short hair. On the flip side, I still hate shaving. The compromise has been clipping the beard to stubble once a week, which was working quite well until I found my razor while packing. Now I remember why I hate shaving so much, I hate the tingly face feeling. Still having fun, but looking forward to coming back. (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 25th, 2003
5:16 pm	Christmas In Iraq If I assigned much significance to the holiday I might come up with a touching piece paralleling the True Meaning of Christmas™ with my experience here in Iraq. But I never did find much meaning in the holiday beyond it being an opportunity to spend time with family and friends. If I had to describe a true meaning, it would be something along those lines. What I noticed most is that I was hungry around lunchtime, and I still felt like crap from this cold that’s been waging jihad on my sinuses for the last couple days. I was standing in the line for the Christmas Chow, snot running and stomach growling, when a human commotion comes through hollering something about the Secretary of the Army coming in. In the group that followed, I did in fact see the Secretary of the Army (well, technically “acting” Secretary). But before the S.A. made his appearance, I got to see what you don’t see on the news shots of public officials visiting soldiers in the field. I got to see MP’s preventing a fistfight between two soldiers, one griping and the other trying to tell him to stop. The quote from the guy next to me was “this is bullsh*t, I just want to eat”. I agreed with him to some degree, there was a good deal of hungry people waiting on this staged event. The Secretary’s speech ran along the lines of “your nation appreciates you”. Weapons of mass destruction and UN resolutions aside, this administration sincerely believes that this action is instrumental in stopping terrorism. That’s what the man said, and it’s also the policy for awards. For service in both Afghanistan and Iraq, a soldier gets one medal, the “Global War On Terror” medal. I’m not going to add further comment on that, I’m just going to leave it as I saw it. What I will talk about is dogs and aircraft. Soldiers aren’t tidy people, so even when they’re not outright feeding stray dogs, the dogs find plenty to eat around here. Lately, I’ve seen some of the bunch put on some amusing acts. First was the dog the played chicken with a C-130, and won. He wandered into the middle of the ramp as the aircraft was approaching, then decided the sun-warmed tarmac was a great spot for a nap. The plane halted, waited, then finally the crew chief came out to shoo the dog off the ramp. Next was the self-appointed Mosul Welcome Mutt, which left a warm welcome right in front of a C-130 as its passengers were disembarking. My favorite was the puppy this morning. When they park a helicopter for the night, they tie the tips of the rotors to the fuselage to keep them from flapping excessively in the wind. This puppy found the dangling tie-down rope on one Blackhawk to be a great toy. He’d tug on the rope and make the rotor blade dip, then it’d tug back as it bounced. So my Christmas morning amusment was watching this puppy treat a UH-60 as his own personal ten million dollar chew toy. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, December 14th, 2003
8:57 pm	and there was much rejoicing.. The news that Saddam was caught spread quickly, and it certainly cheered everyone up. We'll see what the effect of it is. I had started to write something about why people shouldn't listen to the news, but I have actually found myself busy lately. And not busy swatting flies, in fact, the flies are getting a bit thick. I'll eventually post something about not believing the news, but anyway. I'm working without any transportation (John, without a vehicle? egads!), which makes the days a bit longer. I'm also in new accomodations, the metal hut the Iraqi contractor built for me. The hut is very nice, much more comfortable than the tent. I'm in an actual bed now, no more cots. Put together a plywood platform, got a matress, sheets, blankets. Honestly, it's better living than my first apartment, except that every time a tank drives by it rattles everything off the shelves. However, the plus side of that is that I get to watch tanks go by. (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, December 3rd, 2003
11:47 pm	Morale, Welfare, & Recreation MWR is the acronym for the Army’s official fun sources such as TVs, pool tables, exercise equipment, etc. You can go to the “MWR”, a building showing movies and offering places to work out or just hang out. Or there’s the “MWR tent”, a smaller version, often with just weights and a stereo, maybe a TV too. I’m not exactly a TV fan, and I do most of my socialization in the motor pools, but I did pick up weight lifting over here. I’ve probably been to a gym three times in my life before coming here, but some days, the work out can be the only feeling of productivity all day. I’ve been less than successful at keeping entirely out of trouble, mostly due to my slightly odd dual status. I’m a mechanical engineer on temporary assignment as a contractor liason, officially classified as “miscellaneous”. So naturally, when I’m not occupied as miscellaneous, I’d go see how I could help as an engineer. The problem arises when I forget that I’m dealing with Army People, not engineers, or even technical people. Damn Army People are misleading; they walk around with a straightforward and rational attitude plastered all over them, but, well, they’re not. Underneath that clear thinking appearance is a communications degree, and I’ll forget and slip into engineering-communication mode. Where this becomes a problem is when discussing new ideas. Anyone who knows me also knows that I’ve never held my tongue when I had a clever idea. The problem is that I when I say “you could try this..”, I’m simply stating that the idea is a technically possible solution. I’m not saying that they ought to go do it. Which leads to where I was the week before last, when my boss asked to speak with me. Sometime in the last month, I had answered someone’s question regarding some equipment with “you could try this..”. Well, according to my boss, they went and tried it. Sure it works, but now there’s equipment no longer in accordance with article 47 delta niner, or whatever regulation I had quite clearly told them I was ignorant of. The point of this is to explain why I am now fighting a War on Boredom; I’ve been explicitly prohibited from even discussing technical issues with Army People. I am to stick to my single stated task of counting contractors, no matter how little of my time it takes. Naturally, this has an effect on Morale. Mine dropped. A hearty thanksgiving dinner did well to bring it up, but the biggest morale boost this past week came from the rains. The holiday weekend brought about four inches of rain, and with that comes fourteen inches of mud. Since then, it’s been a gray drizzle that’s got most the camp depressed but reminds me of home. I came to realize that I actually missed cold and wet weather. But mud’s ok with Galoshes, which have certainly helped preserve my Welfare. This entire division was issued Galoshes, but as far as I could see, I’m the only individual who has had consistently dry feet. Desert boots were designed to be breathable and do a great job at it, but they’re far from waterproof. Yet seemingly no one other than myself was wearing those wonderful Galoshes until the third day of the rains. I started to wonder if it was prohibited to wear Galoshes and I started inquiring about it since it wouldn’t have been the first piece of I was equipment issued and then told not to wear. I clomped into the chow hall with mud covering my Galoshes and while in line enjoying my foot-dryness, I asked the soldier next to me why he didn’t wear his Galoshes. “They make my feet sweat”, he said. I looked at his boots, soaked and muddy up to his ankle, and decided not to press the question further. The best part about the past week has been the Recreation offered by the mud. Try as I might, I could not get either the gator or the HMMWV stuck. The gators are 6x4, with the rear wheels on each side connected by a chain. The center differential can be locked, after which the vehicle drives like a half-track. HMMWVs have viscous slip differentials front and rear, and a transfer case pretty similar to your average Chevy’s. The main difference between the two is that on the gator, you get muddy. Very muddy. HMMWV’s are quite good at keeping the mud under the vehicle, and it took me several passes to get the entire thing covered. Fortunately the road to my tent had several puddles a couple feet deep and a couple hundred feet long, well, more ponds than puddles, so I put up some “SLOW - NO WAKE” signs. It’s still gray outside, but my feet are dry, and the HMMWV and the gator are plastered with mud. I have to say that Morale, Welfare, and Recreation are doing quite well, even if I’ve been banned from being an engineer. I’ve only got about a month left, so I’ll find ways to stay amused. Like flies. A fly swatter and an office full of flies can provide much amusement. Not quite like the usual thanksgiving bird hunt, but it helps pass the idle hours. And a bit of wildlife conservation here: I refrain from killing all the flies before lunch, because then the afternoons get quite dull. (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 26th, 2003
4:15 pm	two quick notes 1. Mail has been effectively ceased, haven't seen any packages in several days. 2. Galoshes are good. I can forgive alot about the army, because they have issued me such cool galoshes. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 25th, 2003
3:12 pm	An Iraqi Motorhead Been at a bit of a loss for words lately. Things have been interesting, weather’s cooling down, and it’s seeming more like October in NY. There’s been some activity in the city, helicopters crashing and people getting killed, but for the most part it was nothing more than muffled noises in the distance for me. Out of concern for operational security and to abide by the instructions given to me regarding opsec, I haven’t mentioned current/local events. Fortunately, someone else has taken care of all the security breaches for me. I’m here, I’ve been here, and here, as well as some other places. Baghdad, for 3 hours. Got the obligatory picture of me in front of Saddam Int’l Airport, then took off. There are stories I’d like to share here, but it just wouldn’t be a good idea. I’d like to write more about the Iraqi contractor who built my new Contractor Liason Office, but not till later. I can say I should take back any bad thing I said about Iraqi construction, because this contractor and his crew were rather impressive. I managed to finally start understanding Arabic pronunciations, and even know some phrases now. “Muhandis Mikiniki” – mechanical engineer. So now I can quickly explain to Iraqis that despite what they may think from my butchered speech and heavy reliance on a phrasebook, I do, in fact, have some degree of education. The contractor and I got into a discussion when I was reading on of the car magazines my dad had sent as I sat near the jobsite. Turns out he’s his own mechanic as well, with a preference for large BMW’s and Chevy trucks. With pictures, my phrasebook, and his limited English we worked our way through a good conversation on cars. I pulled out a 4x4 mag I had brought with me, and he went through it in amazement. I guess 44” mud tires aren’t too common here. Aside from motorhead talk, I also had the beginnings of a political discussion with this guy. His broken English and my broken Arabic made for pretty slow conversation, but I did manage to gather that his main problem has been rampant crime in Mosul. “Ali Baba” – the phrase for thief, or criminal in general. He also made me realize the degree to which organized crime can develop when assisted by Arab concepts of kinship and extended family. It goes beyond relatives and becomes tribal – his description of the current local government was “chief ali-babas”. He went even farther on Ahmed Chalabi, who he called “big ali-baba”. The other amusing thing was how we managed to communicate the concept of “socialism”. My Iraqi friend pantomimed removing my notepad, pens, leatherman etc, from my pockets and throwing them around on the ground. I wouldn’t say he was pro-american, though. I can’t blame him. I don’t really like the army either. We talked a good deal about differences between Iraq and the US, and my key point is “Army is not America”. The last thing I wanted him to think was that the Army’s way of doing business was how the rest of American companies worked. Besides, if he gets too comfortable working these Army contracts, he’s never going to be competitive in the real world. Easiest way to explain the situation with broken English: “Army Strong! But Army Dumb”. It’s quite true, and easily pantomimed. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 15th, 2003
10:27 pm	Recruiting This was a letter I was considering sending to an RPI publication, but I think it's been too sanitized and all that was left was a pitch for fresh help. For recent graduates seeking work experience with international affairs, contract management, and civil infrastructure, the top three locations considered would probably be Washington DC, Boston, and Baltimore. Here’s one that can also be considered: Iraq. Comparing cost-of-living with the other three locations is a bit complicated and actually a bit absurd, considering the starting salaries that are well into six tax-free figures and no direct living expenses. The complication comes in measuring the intangible costs of being abroad for six months to a year at a time. Additionally, no one has quite yet put their finger on the concept of a cost-of-potentially-getting-blown-up index. Say what you want about whether or not we should be in Iraq, but we are there. For some recent graduates, the $87 billion aid package will probably present some of the best job prospects available. You can’t dump billions into a country’s infrastructure without having some engineers and managers to at least try to direct the flow. At the very least, it’s going to employ hundreds of check-writers just to get all the money spent. The catch is that the six figure year long deal isn’t available if you already work for the government, which is part of how I ended up in Iraq for a mere 50% bonus over my normal pay. Contractors overseas for greater than 330 days are tax-free; government civilians with 179 day tours aren’t. The other part was my desire to see it all with my own eyes, to put aside the CAD and designs and get some “field engineering” experience. And then, there was my desire to see if I could do it. Jobs of every shape and size are available, and I ended up as a contractor liaison rather accidentally. My normal field is mechanical/aeronautical engineering, graduating RPI in ’01 and puttering along on my masters since. Resource assistance and head counting contractors is about as far out of my normal work as you can get. I arrived in Kuwait to have a book dropped on my lap and was told I had roughly 2 weeks to learn everything there was to know about the army, its logistic system, contracting regulations, and the contractors. Some things RPI prepares you for quite well, such as having to learn vast amounts of completely unfamiliar information in a short amount of time. With no ROTC or military experience, I also had the task of learning how to live with the army. Closest I had ever come to this was cub scout camp. Sure, memorizing ranks helps, but most of the lesson came from friendly (as well as not-so-friendly) NCOs. I could handle the fieldcraft, and for the most part I’ve been disease and injury free, with no blisters, sores, or gastro-intestinal distress known here as “The Shiite Revolt”. If you’ve never been camping or have a significant aversion to dust or dirt, cross this job off your list. Every time you wash your hands, the water runs brown, and while you were in the bathroom another film of dust accumulated on your keyboard. This is not to say work isn’t rewarding, and it is, at least when it’s not being frustrating. Ill-defined is often the nature of work here, but just every so often something will come together in a way that makes you think you’ve accomplished something. Progress is something only visible through the confusion, but it’s there to be seen. So if the money seems right, you’ve assessed your inclination towards risk, you feel no qualms about filth, and you’d like to take part in one of the world’s biggest challenges in nationbuilding, consider Iraq. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 7th, 2003
5:23 pm	On goods and services Have you every walked through Wal-Mart of the Dollar Store to take in the quality merchandise and asked yourself “What becomes of the injection molded trinkets that don’t meet this store’s high quality standards?” Well, wonder no more. They ship it here. The bike was a good example of this. I had been thinking I might go crazy with the souvenirs; carpet my floors with Iraqi rugs and hand out hand carved miniatures to friends and family. But when I started looking into what was actually being sold, I saw the rugs were made in Kuwait and Iran, the blankets in South Korea, and the “hand carved miniatures” were probably by an injection molding machine living out its fourth decade in Turkey. I’m serious about the comparison to Wal-Mart; I could have bought better rugs there. In fact, if Wal-Mart Supercenters ever become so super as to have a “Middle-East” isle, it would probably have better rugs than I can find here. I’m sure the wealthy of Iraq probably had good rugs and ornate trinkets, but I haven’t seen anything. Even if I were to find some quality goods that were visibly used, I’d probably have to assume they were stolen. I’ve been making it a point to not support the black market here. There’s one vendor that sells cots that look like they were looted from a hospital; I don’t deal with him. Everyone and their brother (literally) sells pirated movies. DVD copies are 3 for 10$, and are made with the latest in camcorder technology. The pirate copy hits here about the same time it opens in the states, sometimes even sooner. One guy tried to sell me “Matrix 4”. While I’m being lighthearted about the junk markets here, there’s a thread that runs deeper. To me, a trip souvenir should be an item, which has little value when collected, and whose value should increase on return. Examples of this would be the wood carving you purchase for $2 on vacation, but is of such quality that a similar carving would have cost you $20 if you bought it at home. The problem is, I haven’t found much of anything here that would be have any significance at home other than “It was bought in Iraq”. Not even made in Iraq; the only thing I found that was actually made here was a bottle of date-flavored ketchup. I thought about books as a souvenir. A friend of mine purchased a nice looking leather bound, gold edged copy of the Koran for $5. The script was beautiful to look at, even if you couldn’t read it. I wasn’t really up for supporting a religion any more than I was for supporting the black market, but figured any other book would be great shelf-decoration back home. The only problem is that, other than the Koran, I can’t seem to find any Arab literature. I thought about music, and I think I hit something here. The Arab pop music isn’t that bad. I’m starting to like a lot of it, but some of it it’s about as original as sampled remixed hip-hop. I heard a good beat, supported by the typical wailing chicks, and I was starting to get into it when they hit the chorus. “I’m you’re Venus, I’m your fire..” I heard one song that I could swear was ripping “Louie Louie”, but it was “Louie Louie” you could belly-dance to. Weird, but it worked. I admit, I know very little culturally. I pick up on etiquette very quickly, but when it comes to understanding a culture’s contributions to art, literature, music, and all that crap, I don’t have much to offer. So if anyone can volunteer information on what I might find that is representative of Arab contributions, please do. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 4th, 2003
9:22 am	Short lived thrills As if I needed more hazards, I bought a bike. The HMMWV’s been down (and will be down) for an alternator for a while. There’s something about my personality that makes it uncomfortable to not have my own mode of transportation. I think it’s a cross between independence and impatience. I find walking too tedious, and I hate to impose on coworkers to borrow their vehicles. A local vendor had bikes of exceptionally low quality for sale, only $50. I thought that with a little work, I could probably make one last until I got my truck back, then maybe sell it off when I leave, like my bike in Kuwait. I barely managed to get it back to the tent from the vendor, and I should have brought my tools with me when I went to purchase it. It was as if the factory didn’t own any tools, and just hand tightened everything. That, and the bolt attaching the front brake to the fork was stripped; nothing I could replace the next time I made it over to the motor pool. After an hour of tweaking, my “COOLBIKE” mountain bike was pretty much ready to ride and I had my independence and speed thrills once again. That was Sunday. Today is Tuesday, and I’ve already crashed the bike. I knew the front brake was bad, but I guess I thought “Oh well, when am I going to need to stop fast anyway?”. Apparantly, the answer is “this morning”. On the way to work this morning, I failed an emergency stop when someone stepped into my path, and plowed into a concrete barrier. I guess the good thing about Chinese bikes is they crumple nicely. I invented the “COOLBIKE – Short Wheelbase Model”. No injuries other than some knuckles skinned up on the barrier. The only permanent damage I suffered was the addition of “training wheels” jokes to the snake jokes, but it’s all in good fun. The bike was complete junk, or I should say, even more completely junk than when I bought it. I was dragging it away to the dump when two local hires offered me $5 for the carcass. I probably could have held out for $10, but it was a heavy bike to be dragging. Now I’m left with skinned knuckles, $45 less in my pocket, and no speed thrills again. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 2nd, 2003
12:06 am	Damn rain It’s been a busy week, and a lot of shit happened. However, I’d like to thank the Army for its wonderful drugs and their success at making this no longer the case. I had been doing so well until the rains came. Three months, and my only ailments had been some tummy rumbles, a cavity, the occasional heat-induced headache, and a bug in my ear. The first rain came a month ago, and within three days I was in the ICU. In fact, most the camp was sick. The first rain barely dimpled the dust, just enough water to remind you that yes, there was more to “weather” than just hot or damn hot. This week we had a downright climate change, and it was marked by a genuine downpour. Not the piddly sprinkles that we had over the last month, but honest rain. Which I blame for getting me sick again, and breaking the historically strong alliance I had forged with my gut. Relations had been friendly, with trade and regular diplomatic contact, but all that was lost with the rains. Not one to let illness go on untreated very long, I took a wet gator ride to sick call and got myself three tablets. We’ll call them Army Magic Pills, 750mg, or AMP-750s, because every other item in this place has its own alpha-numeric designation. Sure, the rest of the world calls it Cipro, but now they’re AMPs to me. Just open your mouth, chuck one in, and it’s time to die, you single-celled commie bastards. With Gut Wars behind me, I was free to enjoy the pleasant weather. Because with the rain came the cold, but not cold, just not hot. I really ought to take cold and hot out of my vocabulary and only talk temperatures. I was told Troy had a warm day; meaning 70-ish. Shorts, sandals, and 2004’s last wearing of the skimpy stuff. Here, we hit 68 degrees and it’s gloves and gore-tex. I’m making no exaggerations here, the temperature was between 65 and 70 degrees and there was an emergency issue of winter gear – and people wore it! Hell, even I wore my gore-tex jacket the other morning, only as long as it took me to think “I would look incredibly silly back home wearing a parka on a such a beautiful day”. When it hit 55, one of my coworkers was bundled up with his poly-pros, parka, and winter hat. I think if it gets any colder, he’ll be cutting eyeholes in his sleeping bag. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 26th, 2003
4:34 pm	Snakes! My tentmates are an interesting bunch, but you wouldn’t guess that by looking at the demographics of the tent. Average age approximately 52, average weight 220lbf, average number of trips to the bathroom in a single night is two. They’re government civilians (like me) and most are also army vets; the oldest first enlisted in 1958. Aside from the nightly prostate parade, they’re sound asleep 2100-0500. Except last night. There was a snake, but only in my dreams. I don’t remember what I was dreaming about the snake, only that I see it and yell “SNAKE!” My dream merges with reality, and I’m sitting up on my cot yelling “SNAKE!”. Now, anytime someone starts screaming their head off in the middle of the night in a war zone, people are going to wake up quickly. While I’ve never seen a snake in this country, we’ve been told they’re big, nasty, and WMD-type venomous. You can imagine how ten snake-phobic men, lightly sleeping in Iraq, might react to someone screaming about a venomous slithering critter. So at midnight last night, I not only woke up the entire tent; I sent them into a frantic snake-hunt. Their frantic, crashing flashlight search is actually what woke me, not my yelling. I wouldn’t have even remembered it had they not been asking me “where’s the snake, where is it?”. My snake-hating bunk-neighbor kept hunting with his flashlight even after I went back to sleep. But about the time the poor guy finally settles down again, I (reportedly) yell “there it is, I knew there was a snake!” and start the game all over again. This is a largely second-hand story, since I didn’t even wake up for the second “snake”. I have no memory of the comedy that must have been the tent’s midnight snake hunt. However, at breakfast this morning, everyone was more than happy to fill me in. I didn’t even wake up for the second snake hunt, which didn’t get as far as the first because someone noticed my head still on the pillow. “The bastard’s still asleep!” I think I’m going to blame the malaria pills. You’re supposed to take them on Sunday, and they’ll prevent malaria all week. I’ve been getting an added bonus in that they remind me when to take them, since Friday and Saturday night end up being filled with vivid dreams which stop the night I take the pill. I plan to sleep well tonight, especially since I finally snagged myself a foam mattress. I’m just glad everyone was good natured about it, and I hope the nickname “snakeman” doesn’t stick. (11 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, October 24th, 2003
8:54 pm	halfway done Earlier today, I had completed 89.5 days deployed, making it my official halfway mark. Still having fun, but I'm going to appreciate coming home. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 22nd, 2003
9:53 pm	conceited about construction Can anyone explain to me why the birthplace of civilization still hasn’t wrapped their minds around the concept of a sewer trap? Actually, there’s a bit more than plumbing when it comes to construction, but that’s the first one you notice. It doesn’t matter where you are, whether the facility is rich or poor, old or new, they put a straight pipe from sink to sewer. For the unplumbers out there, the sewer trap (P- or S- trap) is a wonderful invention that’s ubiquitous in the western world and often mistaken for decoration. It’s a U-bend in the drainpipe that holds a puddle of water, which prevents sewer gases (and other pleasantries) from coming up out of the sewer. Arab plumbers omit this part. Arab toilets don’t have gas traps. Arab urinals go straight into the goddamned, stinking, mosquito breeding sewer. Everywhere, even back in Kuwait. I’m starting to think they enjoy the smell. Other than that, construction here is about the same as in the states, but without the wood. Or unions. The New York Times ran something from a state department (commie) official who was lamenting the lack of civil institutions in Iraq, such as unions. I thought.. “well, of course”. A union protects you from having to work a 10 hr day just because there’s a line of folks who’d gladly work a 10 hr day. No one here would do 10 hrs. You’re lucky to get six from them. They’re done by 3:30, and you won’t see them again until the next morning at 9. You’ve probably guessed that I’ve been working a little bit with a construction project of some sort. I’m pretty removed from the process, because despite my Arabic classes, I still can’t say one word. In fact, my role is left to more of a “initiate and watch” position. And it’s like watching grass grow. Like grass growing here, in the summer, on a rocky hillside. Sure, they’re working, but it’s getting to the point where I’m thinking I could have done it faster myself and alone. I have to admit, they do come up with some ingenious ways to do stuff, and can get by without much in terms of tools. There’s no substantial wood to speak of here, except what the Army ships in on its own. Sticks and thin trees that would be in the brush pile to be burnt back home are used as bracing for concrete forms here. And used over and over again, since without any rain, not much rots. The concrete leaves something to be desired, but I have empathy for them. I think I used to make the same type of concrete in my Tonka concrete mixer.. ok, ok, so they use actual lime, and make something that at least chemically resembles cement. But you can walk by one of their pours and pull a chunk off with your hand. I was trying to figure out if this was standard practice or just a case of “yeah, we’ll make some ‘concrete’ for the Americans.. where’s the cash”. It seems like standard building practice, though, even for the buildings that Saddam built for his military. By the way, Saddam, the army thanks you for the nice living quarters; did you know you could order drain traps from homedepot.com? Alright, enough of me being a conceited western-centric ass. I’m going to bed. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 19th, 2003
6:26 pm	Back in business There’s something nice about rainy days in Iraq, namely, the damn sun isn’t blazing. The rain started out this past week, and for the most part it didn’t make much of a difference. We had the one storm that dropped more mud than water, but before Tuesday, it was still summer. I’d see some spots appearing on the HMMWV’s hood, but they’d be gone before I really had time to think about it. But by mid week, it was clear that we had in fact entered the rainy season. The weather cooled (meaning 90 deg highs and 65 in the mornings), and it feels like fall. It feels like fall about as far as it can without leaves turning colors or cider & donuts. I did get some candy corn, though (thanks grandma!). And I am fully recovered from whatever mystery bug attacked me last week. It took a while, and it’s left me with a new found respect for microorganisms. Being weaker than an arthritic old man doesn’t really work out here, and I’ve been doing nothing other than reading and sitting since last week. I was having to make two trips to the chow line because I couldn’t carry enough food on one tray. Spent a lot of time sitting around the tent. I also noticed the irony of my choice of reading material. Car and bike mags – this week I went through a 1’ tall stack with glossy spreads of the latest and greatest in automotive design. Everything from $10k econoboxes to $110k Bentleys, and the irony comes from the realization that even the cheapest of the cars was still 10x more than I’ve ever spent on a car. I need a car mag more tailored to my automotive interests, something with 2 page spreads of well used two decade old sedans, complete with rust spots and crackling paint. Beaten, worn, depreciated down and out of Kelly’s Blue Book, and just waiting for me to turn a few wrenches and get another 50k miles out of it. Some publisher must have considered such a mag, at least briefly. I guess no one sees a viable business model that can be build on cheap people who like cars with no value. But I’ve put down my reading material and I’m back at work. Things are going well, and I’ve completed 47% of my deployment. The cooler weather is making it easier to function, but the only real indication of the changing season is the shortening days. The trees don’t turn; the only trees here are some sort of a cottonwood looking tree, but more scraggly. Green stuff of all sorts is coming up all around, and like I was afraid of, so are the creepy crawlers. I think I need to start coming up with better mousetraps, because this rat poison isn’t doing jack. There’s a bait box near my feet at my desk, and I’ve watched this one mouse take the poison every night for the last 3 days. The mouse in the tent was the same way, and finished an entire box of bait before keeling over. I don’t think the poison got him; I think he got lazy, depended on it for food, and starved to death when he ran out. I’m thinking I could make some pretty damn effective mouse-removal devices with the crap lying around here, but as long as they stay out of the MREs, twizzlers, and my Maypo, I probably won’t reach that level of anti-mouse brutality. Twizzlers, by the way, are now $1.50 for a 6 lbf case at the PX. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 11th, 2003
5:33 pm	Sick As A Dog The plan was to do an entry Wednesday evening comparing and contrasting Chinook rides to Blackhawk rides. I can’t make a fair comparison between the two aircraft now, since any helicopter ride sucks when you’re dizzy with a headache. I knew the headache/dizziness wasn’t the fault of the Chinook; it was just another reminder that the most dangerous organisms here aren’t humans. Somewhere along the line I must have inhaled the wrong speck of dust or touched the wrong doorknob, because I had caught something. When I realized I couldn’t sleep off whatever it was and the fever wasn’t going away on it’s own, I went to the camp hospital. Doc prescribes something to keep the headache and dizziness away, oh and by the way it will knock you out for a while. Twelve hours later I woke up, and my stomach was not agreeing with anything I suggested. Spent Thursday trying (and failing) to consume anything other than water, and Thursday evening went back to the Doc. Actually, I was taken back to the Doc, and I don’t really remember that all too well. I do remember being unable to form coherent sentences in the ER, and barely being able to stay awake. I think it was my two friends who brought me in who explained everything to the doctor, at least enough that he decided to stick an IV in right away. But after 2-3 bags of IV fluid, my only thought was “when’s breakfast?”. I was in the hospital here from Thursday till this morning, and it’s a nice hospital. Friday all I did was eat, read, and joke with the nice nurses. No complaints here. In a rare example of timely postal service by the army, three packages of books and magazines from my Dad showed up Friday morning. I’m taking it easy now, because I still feel like crap. Whatever it was that I caught, it’s on the way out. I suspect that the virus and my stack of new reading material will both end up gone at the same time. It’s just the way these things work, you know. (4 Comments |Comment on this)