Neither Would I

As the movie opens, a grim man looks at the barbarian chieftan, and scoffs. "People should know when they are conquered." The grizzled veteran next to him looks at him and says "Would you, Quintus? Would I?"

If some country, one full of Red Star-wearing commies, invaded us, kicked the crap out the US military (stay with me, here, I know it's an absurd example) and then told us that they'd stay in our country until we forgot about our heroes like George Washington, George Patton, and John McClane, about what time do you think we'd be cool with it?

If you're unsure of the answer, let me explain it for you:

I'd be cool with it at some point after my body had assumed room temperature. There is literally no point at which I'd give up, no point at which I'd back down, no point at which I'd forgive the offense given when people tried to bury my way of life, my history, and my heroes.

There's about a million other people like me.

Now, think about trying to pacify, with bombs, tanks, and infantry, a million people who absolutely refuse to back down, because there's no point at which they'll accept the terms of surrender. They'll never accept not being Americans, they'll never accept being commie scum, or whatever, because to do so would force them to betray everything they've ever believed in. Every last one of them would have to be killed, and fast enough that they couldn't inspire others to fight off the invaders.

You all know the type of people I'm talking about. If you're not one of them, you know one of them. Course, you might not know that you know one of them, but I digress.

Now, I'm sure you can understand that the sort of people who created the Gadsden flag are not unique to America. They've been part of every country, at every point in history. They're the patriots who've kept every country free from foreign control every time any pissed-off neighbor invaded them. They're the people who crawled out of the hills and said "No, fuck you, Russia, we're not going to lay down and die just because you've got Hind helicopters and we've got cast-off Kalashnikovs."

Afghanistan is the single most-invaded place on earth. I know that America likes to forget that the world existed long before the Declaration of Independence was signed, but honestly, we need some perspective here.

The Afghan people will never stop fighting us because they never stopped fighting anyone else. The United States (Oh, sorry, NATO) is simply the latest invader in a long list of invaders that goes back to before Alexander of Macedonia.

Is there any reason, any reason at all, that anyone can think of that will simply convince the Afghan people to give up, when they've never given up before?

So, now, let's get to the applicable portion of this:

We need to convince the Afghans that they should stop fighting us, and start telling the Taliban, and Al Qaeda, and all the rest of the militant durkadurkas to fuck off all the way out of their country.

On Sept 12, 2001, a pundit named Ann Coulter said that in response to the terrorist attacks of Sept 11, "We should invade their countries, kill their leaders, and convert them to Christianity." It was not exactly well-received at the time, since the idea that Christianity will ever stop war and violence is a politically incorrect thing to say, both now and then.

But, after nearly eleven years of warfare, I wonder if perhaps it's not time to move to step three of Coulter's plan. For eleven years, we've dropped bombs, killed leaders and driven around in armored vehicles. A scientist would say that the definition of insanity is to do the same thing twice, expecting different results.

Is it time to try something else?

Perhaps, in a way, maybe spreading Christianity can be viewed as an extended PSYOPS campaign. We want these people to stop fighting us, to throw off the shackles of radical Islam, and to stop living in a feudal society. We're not going to pull that off just by dropping another round of JDAMs on their houses, I think it's clear that Plan A isn't working anymore.

The nice part of creating religious converts, stepping outside my usual True Believer viewpoint, is that they're absolutely fanatical. They're more apt than anyone else to tell their friends and family what they just became. If we really want to tear down a Muslim country, is there a better plan than to simply start converting Muslims into Christians?

Of course, I am very much a True Believer, and I am at war. Let me assure you that, just like if my country was to be invaded, I will not stop fighting against my enemy, and I am extremely well-armed.

Somewhere, A Child...

On Sept 11, 2001, 19 Al Qaeda terrorists trained in Afghanistan hijacked four commercial airlines, and crashed them into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvannia. It was the worst terrorist attack in US history, and provoked a US-led invasion of Afghanistan, which toppled the Taliban from their position as a religious dictatorship in Afghanistan.

For the past eleven years, the US has continued to pursue remnants of the Taliban and Al Qaeda fighters in an attempt to pacify Afghanistan so that the people who were oppressed by the Taliban can have a chance to decide their own fate as a country. Most of the country is populated by tribes, the vast majority of whom have no interest in world politics, or even national politics. They care about their families, their cousins, and survival.

The majority of them are unable to read. Even if they had access to it, they couldn't read a newspaper, a local political blog, an internet news website, or even Hamid Karzai's twitter feed. They have no functional contact with the outside world. It is not unheard of for them to be unaware of the terrorist attacks of September 11 2001, or the precise reasons for the US invasion.

Somewhere, a child in Afghanistan is nearing his eleventh birthday. He has no idea why the US military occasionally drives through his village. He has no idea why a bomb was dropped on his neighbor's house, only that a different group of foreigners had asked for hospitality for the night, or had pointed guns at the family that owned the house, or had given a great speech about fighting off the infidel hordes. He doesn't care about any of the reasons the foreigners give, all he cares about is making sure it doesn't happen again.

Slowly, or perhaps no so slowly, he is beginning to hate foreigners, and the West in particular. He lives in a country that has been invaded more times than any other place on the map, and his tribe has been fighting invaders from one place or another for most of history. By the time he becomes an adult, he will still not be able to read, but he will be well-versed in the usage of a Kalashnikov, and may have even had training with other heavy weapons.

There will come a time when he has seen enough bombs dropped on his country, has seen enough foreigners marauding through his village, has seen enough war, that he will be pushed across the line and will never stop fighting. Eventually he will be killed in the same war that he hated as a child, for he will become the very thing that the war was started to stop.

I have an idea that perhaps, somewhere, a child in Afghanistan needs to be introduced to people who believe in Jesus. People who forgive violence, not seek revenge. People who know what it's like to live in peace with their neighbors. People who know what Mercy is, and Grace, because they've experienced it.

For eleven years, that child has known only war.

It's time to teach him the Peace that comes from knowing Christ.

What else would I do?

So, I've recently discovered that there's a humanitarian agency that flies Quest Kodiaks and Beechcraft King Airs in Afghanistan that needs mechanics. For some reason, and I can't really explain it, the idea of doing unpaid aircraft repair work in a war zone appeals to me, so I'm trying to get an internship there, in preparation for a career there.


Because, you know, I'm an utterly expendable 28-year-old asshole, with no wife, no kids, no job, no house, no career plans or long-term goals, not even a girlfriend. If anyone's going to get his head chopped off for mentioning Jesus, or get blown up because he's taller and has better hair than anyone else, it might as well be me.


What bothers me, though, is that people act like I'm some sort of saint, who's somehow unlocked a higher level of Christianity just because I want an adrenaline fix. I'm not, I'm just doing this thing because it comes naturally to me.


I am, I think, the logical result of a bipolar boy raised in a fatherless home, who read way, way too many books on World War II, stumbled his way through philosophy until he became a nihilist of sorts, and generally fails at everything he's ever tried. I look at my life and see such a massive train wreck of suck that at this point, I think I'm simply trying to find something even more epic to fail spectacularly at.


What else would I do?


Learn to sit behind a desk and count up other people's money, then drive home in a beige Volvo at the end of the day? Nothing in my life has ever lent itself to me being a settled-down guy, who can sit still, keep calm, and carry on. There are millions and millions of people in this world who would love to live safe, quiet, easy-mode lives, and spend all their time trying to do just that, but I've never been one of them. I tried it, but it just didn't take.


Sociologists would probably argue with me about the definitions, but there are definitely different types of people in this world. Some of us are thrill-seekers, some of us like safety. Some folks like stability, some of us like adventures and danger. Throughout history, there have always been people who sign up to do crazy things for negligible pay.


There is a type of person who signs up to explore the Louisiana Purchase, without having a single clue what exactly is hiding in that wilderness.

There is a type of person who reads a short ad in Soldier of Fortune and runs off to join the Rhodesian Light Infantry.

There is a type of person who spends decades exploring the Rocky Mountains, trying to find El Dorado.


There is a type of person who joins the French Foreign Legion just to start a new life.

There is a type of person who walks into a war zone, armed only with a camera, and takes pictures of the war.


There is a type of person who climbs mountains just to see the view from the top.

There is a type of person who asks for a dangerous job just so that the guy with the family doesn't have to do it.

There is a type of person who views their own life as so worthless that they would give it up for any good cause that comes along.


I'm one of those people.

So tell me, when it really comes down to it, why wouldn't I be off gallivanting around the world, having adventures and writing about them in some neo-Hemingway fashion? Why wouldn't I be exactly the sort of person that my life has made me? Why wouldn't I do the exact sort of thing people like me have done throughout history?

Your life, dear reader, has made you into exactly the sort of person you are, and people like you, throughout history, have done things very similar to what you do now. People who have a great concern for the sick become doctors of various sorts. People who have a great concern for social order become cops and lawyers. People who have a great concern for the well-being of the populace become political leaders. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, and so on, and so forth.


Take a look at my life and tell me: What else would I do?

Christianity is an Extreme Sport

There's this theory I have, inspired by Soren Kierkegaard's book The Sickness Unto Death, that Christianity should be fatal. It should be the thing that, just like Christ and all but one of His disciples, takes us to the grave.

Or, more accurately, gets us killed.

Now, let's get something straight: None of us are going to live forever anyways. We will all of us die from something. Those people who try to convince you that if you eat right, exercise right, live in the right city, and drive the right kind of car, you'll live longer are missing the entire point: Longer isn't long enough, we all still die.

If life cannot be survived, then we ought to try to do something radically different than trying to delay the inevitable. Maybe we should change the way we look at life, and instead of measuring one's success by how long we live, we should try to live richer lives. I don't know about you, but if the story of my life was being told to my great-grandchildren over a campfire, I wouldn't want them to be bored with a tale of how for thirty years, I made wise business decisions and got rich.

That'd be boring as hell. I'd rather live a life that is so interesting, so adventurous, so far-beyond-the-ordinary, that tales of the misery, pain, and absurdities I struggle with and get through are passed around for generations. Or at least make a posthumous biography that's  worth reading once.

This train wreck of a life I've led so far has taught me a lot of things, one of them is that people who lead interesting lives also get more people to listen to them when they've got something to say. The innate curiousity of humanity makes most of us want to know what it's really like to skydive from the lower limits of space, to climb Mt. Everest, or to explore the Challenger Deep.

That guy who has a 20-year chip from AA has something to say to a drunk that a Straight Edge man can't. A guy who's been behind bars can say things to a budding criminal that a cop can't. In my case, I've got some things to say about what it's like to burn out, crack up, and end up in a psych ward that other people simply can't.

So I've got this theory that since I'm going to die anyways, I may as well see how much I can survive first, and what better challenge to undertake then to go to spread the Gospel in a place where that sort of thing can get me shot? To go some place that's considered "too dangerous" by almost everyone, and to go there intentionally to do something that will earn me the death penalty?

Because honestly, since I'm going to die anyways, I want the cause of death to be something cool like "was killed for preaching Christ", not something lame like "Heart attack." Anybody can have a heart attack. Hell, those are actually pretty easy to die from. It takes work to avoid those, I want to die from something that it took work to get killed by.

Something that makes people go "Whoa, he really went all the way, didn't he? I'm impressed!"

See, what I've come to realize is that winning the game of life isn't about surviving, it's about being so awesome at live that your life serves as a fantastic example for other people. Think about all the people who are mentioned in the Bible. Folks like Peter, Paul, Joshua, Moses, and Abraham. None of those guys survived, but all of them are held up as examples for us to learn from and follow, and Christ more than anyone else.

I guess my point, if I really have a coherent point, is that instead of playing it safe, I figure we ought to go out and live the most extreme life possible. What if Christianity stopped concerning itself with arguing objective truths, and we all became some weird form of adrenaline junkies, trying to live lives that were so extreme, so dangerous, so past the red line that the only possible way to survive was for God Himself to step in and break jails open with earthquakes?

What if, instead of hoping that terrorists would get tired of getting bombed, and make baskets instead, I went out and told them about the REAL religion of peace? What if, instead of them wishing peace upon a prophet of hate, they were shown a real-world, in-country example of what it's like to serve the Prince of Peace?

What if, instead of pissing and moaning about countries where it's illegal to talk about Jesus, I ignored those laws with the same level of contempt I treat speed limits, and did it anyways?

What if, instead of waiting around, ticking time off my fingers until I die, I go out, find the biggest lion in the darkest den, yank on his beard, and scream "JESUS LOVES YOU!" to the whole pride?

Laws and Law Enforcement

The thought has occurred to me recently, and I know I'm not the first person to think this, that in America, we no longer have policemen who protect and serve the citizens, but instead we have law enforcement officers, who ensure that the civilians obey the law.

Now, the difference between those two statements may seem like a semantic debate, but I'm a philosopher, you're reading my blog, and most good philosophers understand that semantics matter. So indulge me, this is going to get nitpicky.

To start off with, if one wanted to create a society that was free, stable, peaceful, and safe, the obvious option would be to enact laws that would ensure this, then to appoint well-trusted individuals to enforce the laws if need be. The laws would impinge upon the freedom of the individual as little as possible, to ensure maximum freedom, and would generally encompass things that were inherently destructive.

For example, to keep people safe, we make a law against initiating violence against others, with exceptions for self-defense against aggressors. That's a very simple law, enforcing it is easy. If two folks get into a fight, the guy who started it goes to jail. If there is an attacker, and a victim, and the victim is injured, the attacker goes to jail for a long time, and if the victim dies, the attacker goes to jail for life.

I'll save a discussion of the death penalty for another post.

So, that simple law should cover any imaginable form of violence. We'll add another law against acquiring goods without paying for them, and that would actually pretty much cover the list. OK, so we've got the laws, we've got a peaceful society because almost everyone follows the laws, and things work out pretty well. \

But at some point, we'll need some clarifications, and some passed-as-law definitions. Because we'll need an exception for "The guy broke into my house, and was trying to get into my daughter's room with a knife, so I shot him in the back", and other things like that. New definitions for "acquiring goods without paying for them" that covers copying music discs, etc.

OK, that's fine and dandy, and as our society grows, we'll need more cops, and that's fine too. More people means more crimes, and more criminals, because 1% of 300,000,000 is a lot more than 1% of 300, even if the per capita rates don't change.

Now, this is where our theoretical exercise takes a shift. At some point in this country, it seems that the term "law enforcement" became a priority, not "maintaining civil order".

The problem here is that protecting the average Joe from criminals is no longer required. The cops, legally, have no obligation to protect anyone from anything, and cannot be held responsible for not doing so. (See note 1) Now, if cops aren't here to protect us, what are they here for? Law enforcement, easily answered.

That easy answer is a huge problem, though. See, if we look at our theoretical society, the laws were first put into place with the sole intent of keeping folks safe. If from that we shift to "the laws must be enforced more than people must be kept safe", then we're inviting both absurd exercises in petty tyranny, and grand failures in the intent of the laws themselves.

For example, there's the case of Kelly Thomas, who was beaten to death by the cops. Here's the video, because if this doesn't make my case, nothing on earth will:

Now, let's examine what that video shows in the context of our theoretical society:

Was Mr. Thomas a danger to other citizens?

Well, by that video, he wasn't even a danger to the cops, since he can't be seen to even throw a punch at the folks who are hitting him. He apologized, and started pleading for help. If he wasn't a danger to them, then why was violence required, instead of a short, polite conversation?

Well, simply, the Law has become the sacred object, not the person the law is meant to protect.

There are two things that I believe inevitably result from that:

First, the people who are supposed to keep the peace and ultimately serve the people become the center of their own worlds. The law is sacred, the ones who enforce it become superior to those who break it because of this. It takes on an almost-religious aspect, and it's not hard to find an interview in which cops talk about themselves as being superior to the people they are supposed to protect.

Second, the person the law is supposed to protect becomes a dehumanized object. They stop being citizens, and become "sheep", "civilians", and other semi-pejorative terms. They, like Mr. Thomas, are mocked and beaten, because instead of being people that must be protected, they are viewed as people that blasphemed against the object that must be protected.

And once those two things have happened, people like Kelly Thomas, who are no danger to anyone, but break the law on a regular basis, can be beaten to death without any of the officers present saying "Wait, hold up. We're supposed to keep this man safe!"

None of the officers in that video were there to protect or serve Mr. Thomas. They were there to enforce the law, which Mr. Thomas was breaking. When he refused to comply with their demands, apparently because he wasn't capable of understanding them, they beat him to death, then laughed about it.

And people wonder why I have no respect for cops outside that which I'd give to a lion if I saw one while on a safari in Africa. Cops have become, because of this "We enforce the law" mentality, the newest iteration of street thugs, and maintain their position through brutality and fear.

If you don't doubt me, go down to the police station and ask what you should do if a cop is performing an unlawful arrest on you. If the answer is ANYTHING other than "You have the legal authority to resist unlawful arrest, and you may do so", then they're not cops, but tyrants.

When faced with tyranny, conduct yourself as you see fit. That's a choice I won't try to make for anyone.

Note 1:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warren_v._District_of_Columbia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castle_Rock_v._Gonzales
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeShaney_v._Winnebago_County

You Vs. Reality, a five-round bout.

Let's be honest for a second: None of us especially like reality. We've all got our own versions of what we think reality should be, and every last one of us at times wishes it would come true. It's a pretty basic part of being a thinking being, if we're capable of human thought, it's occurred to us that things could be better than they are.

For example, my life does not consist of days spent blowing things up with an Incom T-65J X-wing, then coming home just as Kahlan Amnell is done cooking me a steak dinner. That bums me out, because if reality was what I wanted it to be, Luke Skywalker and Richard Rahl would both be jealous of my awesomeness at the same time.

But reality is. It simply, fundamentally, IS. It is what it is, and our wishes, fantasies, and daydreams simply do not factor into what it is.

A year and change ago, I spent 50-something hours in a psychiatric ward, and I didn't go there by choice. I met a few people there, some of us were simply depressed, and needed to get healthy, but some of the others were trying to fight reality. My roommate was convinced that he could convince the doctors that he was fine if he could just get outside and prove it.

That's called being delusional. He refused to accept the reality of his situation, and instead of playing the game so that he could get out, he tried to resist. Dude wouldn't take his meds, and he probably stayed inside for a while after I left.

On the other hand, while I will forever try to avoid playing by the rules that human society sets, knew better than to try to resist playing by the hospital's rules. The reality was that resisting would only have made things worse, and escape would have become impossible. When the cops woke me up to take me to the hospital, the reality is that I was going. The only way to escape was to get better, and to do so in a way that minimized the damage done to my life.

Resisting the cops would have resulted in handcuffs, charges, and a permanent loss of my firearms. Not taking my meds, or aruguing with the doctors in the ward would have resulted in me staying there longer. Staying there any longer than I did would have resulted in me going before a mental-health judge.

I accepted reality, and my place in it, then played the game and got better, so I could get out.

Fast-forward a year, and I find out that I'm ineligible to get an FAA pilot's license because I'm diagnosed bipolar. Now, bipolar's not the worst thing in the world to live with, it's far better than having AIDS or cancer, and it's better than being stupid, but the FAA still thinks it's not worth the risk to let me fly a plane.

Here's reality:
1. I have bipolar.

2. I take meds.
3. The FAA does not like bipolar.

4. The FAA does not like meds.

Now, naturally, I don't like that reality. However, none of that can be fought. I could go-off meds, and try to fight points 1 and 2, or I could try to cheat the system, to lie on my physical, and try to fight points 3 and 4. Either of those, if reality shows up, mean that I lose the ability to fly anyways, and face a judge for falsifying data on a federal form.

I can't fight reality.

So tell me, again, what the point of being bummed out about this is? I mean, it's a pretty natural occurrence to be bummed out because reality isn't what I want it to be, but to sit around and mope seems pretty useless. It's not productive, because the only thing that sitting around and moping will do is pile up reasons why reality sucks.

Instead, I'm going to look at what else reality is:
5. I'll graduate Tech without paying a penny for tuition.

6. I'll finish up my final Bible credits debt-free.

7. Not everyone in NASA is an astronaut, nor is everyone in the MAF a pilot.

8. God keeps providing.

I think it just comes down to a matter of perspective. Yeah, reality sucks, but it could be a lot worse. I don't get to be a MAF pilot, but I'll be more deployable, and will have to work less to arrive at MAF HQ without any debt. I may never get my T-65, but that's not what life is about anyways. Life is about doing the job, not reaping the rewards. 

Puppetz turns 26!

Listening to a good heavy metal album is like getting your ass kicked by a really big man. It's going to hit hard, and it's not going to stop until the job is done and your head has no idea what just happened to it.



And it's not going to let up after it starts. Master of Puppets is an 8:32 second ode to drug addiction, played at 220 beats per minute. It only slows down long enough for a haunting dual solo to remind you that regardless of their egos, Metallica can *play*.



While most metal bands would go for the obvious choice and reference Tolkien all day (I'm looking at you, Led Zeppelin), Metallica has a thing for H. P. Lovecraft. Makes for a far heavier record if one doesn't have to explain how prancing elves with flutes are metal.



Subtly, Master of Puppets is also a concept album. Every song references power and control, and the misuse thereof. Imagine being a prisoner simply because other people say you're sick, with no hope for escape, no way out. Welcome Home (Sanitarium) is cold and haunting song, and it powerfully conveys the situation of the inmates.



Although any respectable thrash band has a song about war, Metallica somehow managed to avoid both glorifying war *and* focusing simply on the brutality. Once again proving their songwriting skill, Metallica emphasized not the actions, but the men involved, bringing what could have been a lyrical gorefest back down to a level that few can argue with.



Leper Messiah displays Metallica's continual taste for social commentary. Sounds odd today, but back in the 1980's, televangelism was huge. And, unfortunately, not only were the tv preachers hugely popular, but it seems many of them had a scandal of some kind, often involving the money that people had sent them.

And lots and lots of hookers.



Many thrash bands depend on their lyrics. Sure, they've got great riffs, and they've got the skill, but the songs themselves depend on the lyrics to make up for a lack of musical art. Metallica decided that instead of letting anyone say that about them, they'll simply write an 8:25 lyricless metal piece, proving rather elegantly that their lyrics are not the only thing they've got mastered.



One of the other wonders of Master of Puppets turning 26 is that Metallica can still physically play these songs 26 years later. These guys are pushing 50, and they can still thrash harder and faster than bands half their age. Crap, look at the Rolling Stones when they were 50! Metallica has aged *very* well, and their music is standing the test of time.