If you have ever met me, there’s a chance you might have wondered what the hell I am wearing on my big feet.  Well, since I discovered Blundstone boots in Sydney, Australia, while backpacking around the world back in 1996, I have never been very far away from a pair.  Kiwi White, the birth father of my ex-girlfriend Michelle and one of my best friends, is my most excellent boots provider. After years of wearing “Blunnies,” Kiwi sent me a pair of Rossi boots, the other Blundstones.  I really love my Rossi boots very much. In fact, I have been waiting for Australian boots to become Super Fashionable for 13-years, and yet it has never happened.  Well, I guarantee you that if an when you meet me in person, there is a 90% chance that I will either be wearing a pair of Blundstones or a pair of Rossi boots, similar to the rugged pair you see below:

One of my goals in life is to be on Boing Boing, so in many ways my dreams are coming true every day in so many ways in the form of getting a guest blog post on Boing Boing Gadgets about the ultimate gadget, my hand-made, bespoke, Randall Model 1 knife — many thanks to my buddy John Brownlee for inviting me over and for not only considering my knife a gadget but fancying it worthy of bbG:

Knife Porn: Four years waiting and one month with the Randall Model 1 Fighting Knife Posted by John Brownlee

Guest Review by Chris Abraham

After four years, I finally received my bespoke, hand-made, Randall Model 1 “All-Purpose Fighting Knife.” Unstead of tearing right into the box, I paused and filmed a nine-minute unboxing video and took some photos of the knife — knife porn.

There are two iconic fighting knives known the world over for their service in World War II. The British Sykes-Fairbairn dagger and the American style of fighting knife, inspired both by the Bowie and the American hunting knife. There was one knife, above all other, that I coveted… coveted not just because it was considered “the best” by all of the knife magazines I bought but also because it was associated with doing hard service during World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. That knife was the Randall Model #1.

Because I wanted a Randall that was as authentic to the knives that have served our military since WWII, I ordered the Randall with a carbon blade, since it predates stainless steel. There are some challenges associated with owning and using a carbon steel knife, be it in the kitchen or in the field.

First, they can — and do — rust. Since rust is normal with daily use out in the field, don’t freak out if it happens to you. A little sandpaper should do the trick if the rusting isn’t too bad.

Second, even if you spend the time and attention required to make sure your knife remains dry and sealed under a light coating of oil, there is still the issue of discoloration. Unlike stainless, carbon steel reacts with the things it touches. The acids and oils of the leather sheath could discolor the blade. Cutting meat will discolor the blade, too.

The instructions also suggest that cutting meat with the carbon blade results in discoloration, so you’re pretty much screwed unless you don’t use your Randall at all. Luckily, that’s not true. Go ahead and use it, if you’re not a strict collector — it was meant to be man-handled. Like I said above, all of the discoloration can be easily polished out of your knife. Working carbon knives always end up looking a little like they were made of silver because of the way silver tarnishes.

When I received the knife, the blade was coated with a light oil. The instructions recommend keeping the blade dry and lubricated with WD-40. After I posted the unboxing video on YouTube, someone commented that I should be really careful with the carbon steel blade and not store the knife in the leather scabbard but rather keep the blade (but not the handle) wrapped in an oil cloth.

And how does it feel? Perfectly-balanced. It’s right where it’s supposed to be: the shiny brass hilt rests the handle right on your forefinger, as it should.

There is an after-market for Randall knives if you’re unwilling to wait for 4-years for one like I did. I checked out A.G. Russell, a popular knife store, and I found the Randall Model 1 for $600. Instant gratification for Randalls generally starts at $600 for a brand new knife of someone else’s design, usually with a micarta or stag handle, and quickly tops out at thousands for a specialty, rare, or vintage knife. If you want a knife made by Bo Randall himself, it will cost: older Randall knives are worth five to fifteen times their value.

These are collectors knives, that’s for sure. If you explore the catalog, you’ll get a feel how extensively you can pimp your knife. I ordered mine plain vanilla “traditional” with the pressed-leather handle, 7″ blade, and Duralumin butt cap. Some options I could have requested were a longer or shorter blade in stainless steel. There’s an assortment of brass hilt shapes and sizes along with a myriad of handle types, including bone, tusk, horn, micarta (a mixture of layered linen and resin), or just about anything else that could be shoehorned onto the full tang.

I don’t know if I like the big and bulky sharpening stone pocket on the front of the sheath since I don’t plan on being far enough in the wilderness to not be able to come home to sharpen the knife. I did a little research and you can get just about anything you want from Randall, including getting the sheath without the stone pouch, although a replacement sheath from Randall costs almost two-hundred dollars, nearly the cost of the knife itself. If my Google searches are true, you can even get sheaths in other leathers and colors, including ostrich, alligator, and zebra. All I need to know is the length of the blade, which is a very standard and popular 7″ (8″ is also very popular).

The man behind Randall Made Knives, W.D. Bo Randall, started making hand-forged knives as a hobby back in 1937 and started selling them in the years leading up to World War II. A reporter wrote a story about Bo during the early years of the war and there was so much demand for his fighting knife, now known as the Model 1, that Bo became a full-time knife-maker. According the website, Bo Randall hand-crafted each knife no matter how much demand or the temptation to mass-produce. Throughout WWII, the knives became legendary. Ronald Reagan carried a Randall Model 1 knife.

And, if you ever have a chance to buy a used Randall on the cheap, don’t reject a knife just because it’s rusted or the sheath is rotted. Some oil, a fine grit emery cloth or steel wool, a little polish, and you’re good to go. These knives were made for duty so there isn’t a lot you can do to “kill” the knife. And, if the knife looks a little far gone, don’t worry, you can probably find a knife-maker in your area who can fix it up by reshaping the blade and restoring the bits and pieces. If you want to restore your Randall in style, to this day you can buy replacement sheaths from the company, made to order. Additionally, you can send your Randall home to Orlando, Florida, where it was born, they can do a lovely job restoring it.

Why did I buy a knife like this? Well, that’s an odd thing, and the reason dates back over 24 years to when I was a strapping teen. When I was in high school, during the mid- to late-80s, I was a teenage commando. I went to an all-boys Catholic school in Hawaii called Saint Louis School and we had an JROTC program that I joined because it was either that, PE, or band (shudder). After joining JROTC I joined the Ranger club. On the surface the Rangers were a bunch of boys who did calisthenics and ran around campus and were entitled to wear black berets and bloused jump boots on the days every member of JROTC was required to skulk around school in Class-A Army uniforms. Still, that wasn’t all the Rangers did. We also spent weekends playing the part of Opposition Forces (OPFOR) for Hawaii’s National Guard and Army Reserve. As part of all that, we were issued camouflaged fatigues (BDUs), ALICE packs, web gear, and M-16s. Yes, real M-16s with real banana clips and real brass casings filled with real smokeless gunpowder, but without bullets with a blank-firing adaptor.

I was motivated and dedicated. I became obsessed with everything military. I bought copies of SOF and shopped at Army surplus stores. We all prized authentic gear and many of us bought Vietnam-era slash-pocket OD fatigues and Ka-Bar knives. I was obsessed with knives and started a collection.

That was 1984. I didn’t end up ordering my own Randall until twenty-years later while I was supposed to be working for Pete Snyder at New Media Strategies during the Summer of 2004. I put down $50 as a down payment, clicked “order” and then obsessed about it for nearly five years! I paid off the balance of $264.00 about a year ago. It was supposed to be delivered in June but I received a letter letting me know that delivery had been delayed until October.

Why does a knife take four-years? One of the reasons my order, #57224, order date September 2004, took so long is because I ordered my knife in a time of war. Randall Made Knives is a purveyor of hunting knives during peacetime; however, during a time of war, most of their capacity is spent on providing for our troops. According to their FAQ, “spare time and space is devoted to filling military knife orders for our active military customers. I think that’s fair, since the Model 1 was a military knife from the very beginning.

It was finally ready for delivery while I was in Berlin so I had the knife FedExed to my mom’s house in Arlington, Virginia, and counted the days until I returned home for Christmas. I arrived on Christmas eve but kept it in my pants until Christmas day, when I took this unboxing video and these photos.

After four years, the knife more than lives up to my expectations, especially since there were a couple of cool surprises that I didn’t know about, including red, white, and blue patriotic spacers between the hilt and the pressed-leather handle and between the handle and the Duralumin butt cap — I’ll photograph it with my Nokia N95 camera phone. To be frank, I have been waiting for this Randall Model #1 for twenty-four-years, since I fell in love with this perfect thing back when I was a Freshman in high school.

Worth the wait? Yes! Any hype associated with the entire experience? No, I don’t think so at all. It couldn’t be better-crafted or more beautiful. I am no longer a knife collector — or an anything collector — so the only two remaining knives in my collection is a Cold Steel Tanto I got back in 1983 and this Randall Model 1.

Randall Made Knife Unboxing Porn

Randall Knife Unboxing Pics [Flickr]

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When not waiting four years for a knife to be hand crafted for him, drunkenly stumbling away with me from a disreputable Berlin pub, or being one of the sweetest and smartest guys it is my pleasure to know, Chris Abraham runs a crackerjack conversational marketing firm, Abraham Harrison. This technically makes him a scumbag, but I love him anyway.

While I have already thanked all of the wonderful, generous bloggers who have blogged about Operation Survivor since Labor Day, there has been a countinued outpouring of support. As a result, I have added all of the new posts, banners, Twitters in addition to the initial posts — as of 25 November, this is everyone.

1. 5 Minutes Around the World via 5 Minutes for Mom.
2. Banner via A Disgruntled Republican.
3. Survivor Corps Program-Help! via Swimming Against the Red Tide.
4. Survivor Corps: Founds Operation Survivor Project to Assist U.S. Military Combat Veterans in Transitioning to Civilian Life via A DC Observer.
5. Survivor Corps. Rise Above. Give Back via All 4 My Gals.
6. Banner via American and Proud.
7. Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day via American Thinker.
8. Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day via Americanthinker.
9. Returning Troops…a Noble Cause via Dodgeblogium.
10. Indigenist News Items for: 11-14-2008 via Inteligentaindigena Novajoservo.
11. They don’t go away when Veterans Day ends via Around the Island.
12. Survivor Corps via Assoluta Tranquillita.
13. Survivor Corps via Jake’s Life.
14. Banner via Bearing Drift.
15. Vast Write Wing via Be Logical.
16. Survivor Corps Operation Survivor: A Worthwhile Cause to Consider via Mount Virtus.
17. Someone alerted me to the good work that Survivor Corps via Big Bark.
18. Standing up for Max Cleland on Veteran’s Day via Big Bark.
19. Twittered via How to Change the World.
20. Do Not Abandon Our Vets via understanding the effects of unresolved abandonment issues.
21. Help Our Troops This Veterans Day via Locust Fork Blog.
22. Soldiers Angels Web Surfing via MySpace: Kathie’s Soldiers Angels Account.
23. Banner via Blog Mommas.
24. An Appeal via Don Surber’s blog.
25. Survivor Corps: Help a veteran break the cycle of violence via Hormone-Colored Days.
26. Support the Survivor Corps via Burbsblogs.
27. Veterans Day via Bodhi Baby.
28. Supporting Our Troops via Booker Rising.
29. Operation Survivor via Britannica.
30. As Per Request via Budget Nomad – US Ex – Pat on the Move.
31. Per a Request via Budget Nomad – US Ex – Pat on the Move.
32. Help veterans through Survivor Corps via South by Southwest.
33. Remembrance Day via Around the World in beautiful Shoes.
34. Veteran’s Day via Danny Fisher.
35. Survivor Corps via Charming Just Charming.
36. Veterans Day via Chip’s Quips.
37. Please Help Me Support Our Troops on Veteran’s Day via Chris Abraham.
38. I Will Not Be Broken via For the Heck of It.
39. Ray via Notes from the Cookie Jar.
40. Survivor Corps Helps Injured Vets Cope via Connecticut Bob.
41. Help Our Troops This Veteran’s Day via Culture11.
42. Supporting Our Troops: Operation Survivor via Culture Kitchen.
43. Supporting Our Troops: Operation Survivor via The Daily Gotham.
44. Donate to help our Troops via Make it Happen.
45. Survivor Corp-Returning Troops via What’s Delmer Look Like?.
46. Banner via Popcorn and Sushi.
47. Banner via Supercozy WorldHome.
48. Supporting Returning Troops via Donklephant.
49. Operation Survivor-Survivor Corps and TroopTube via Where the Hell Am I?.
50. In Their Boots via Holly’s Fight for Justice.
51. In Their Boots via Holly’s Fight to Stop Violence.
52. Banner via Gapers Block.
53. Banner via Gary Presley.
54. Operation Survivor via The Political Junkie.
55. Veterans Day via On the Fringe.
56. Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and Their Families via GoMekong.com.
57. Support Our Troops NOW via MamaBugs…Homeschooling Where the Air Force Sends Us!.
58. Soldiers Angels Web Surfing via Hooah Wife & Friends.
59. Breaking the Cycle of Violence via Another Opinion.
60. New Book from the founder of Survivor Corps via The IAVA Blog.
61. Some Odds and Ends of the Election via The Liberal Life of a Navy Wife .
62. cross-post via Personal Injury and Social Security Disability Blog.
63. Banner via Iraq The Model.
64. In Honor of Veterans’ Day via James Kotecki.
65. Survivorcorps.org via Jelly Mom.
66. Banner via Into the Woods, Living Deliberately.
67. Survivor Corps via A Leg Up.
68. Standing up for Max Cleland on Veteran’s Day via Informed Comment.
69. Helping Veterans (a day late) via Just Enjoy Him: Ramblings of a Mid-Life Mom.
70. Soldiers Angels Web Surfing via Mail Call! Supporting the Troops.
71. Survivor Corps via Kung Fu Monkey.
72. Banner via Kim Stagliano.
73. Survivor Corps via Knee Deep in the Hooah.
74. Banner via Kentucky Progress.
75. Courage via Last One Speaks.
76. Banner via Leucadia Blog.
77. Iraq snapshot (The Common Ills) via Like Maria Said Paz.
78. Banner via Lisa’s Cookbook.
79. For a Good Cause via The Local Crank.
80. Banner via LooneyBin4Sure.
81. Tis the season to help our troops via Manatee’s Military Moms.
82. Thoughts of a conservative mind: A worthwhile charity via A different kind of Conservative Blog.
83. Banner via Married to the Army.
84. Veterans Day via State of Ohio Blogger Alliance.
85. Veteran’s Day via Weapons of Mass Discussion.
86. Operation Survivor via Big Blueberry Eyes.
87. Survivor Corps offers peer support to injured vets via Media Dis&Dat.
88. Survivor Corps via Tanker Bothers – Soldiers in the War on Terror.
89. Survivor Corps via Tanker Brothers.
90. Miss Beths Victory Dance via Miss Beth’s Victory Dance.
91. Survivor Corps via Miss Cellania Blog.
92. side bar Banner via Mommy Bytes.
93. Survivor Corps. Help for Surviving Troops via Mommy Does it All.
94. Operation Survivor via My American-Iraq Life.
95. Banner via Myrtus.
96. Mine removal personal ambition for Missouri State instructor via News-Release.com.
97. Survivor Corps: Support for returning heroes via News Blaze.
98. Veterans Deserve Your Help via New Zeal.
99. Supporting Returning Troops via Northloop Neighborhood.
100. Read Terrance D.C. via Oh Boy it Never Ends.
101. Banner via only red head in taiwan.
102. Banner via On the Upside.
103. Banner via Papamoka Straight Talk.
104. Banner via Pardon Me For Asking.
105. Survivors of War via Ponderings on a Faith Journey.
106. posted link on blogroll via Political Grind.
107. Survivor Corps: Operation Survivor via Political Reps.
108. A Day To Honor Those Who Have Served Their Country via Political Vindication.
109. Banner via Praise and Coffee.
110. Banner via Preemptive Karma.
111. Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and their Families! via Progressive Independent.
112. cross post via Quick Quotes Online.
113. In Banner Rotation via Redline.
114. Veteran’s deserve not just a word, but also a hand: Operation Survivor via Rich Kirkpatrick.
115. Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and their Families! via Right Michigan.
116. Banner via Rightwingchamp.
117. Katrina Vanden Heuvel is an Idiot via Ruth’s Report.
118. Katrina vanden Heuvel is an idiot via Ruth’s Report.
119. Survivor Corps via Sanbans Lymphorama.
120. Helping the Walking Wounded on November 11 via Serge the concierge.
121. Banner via Seven Wheelchairs.
122. palin, survivor corps, heroes and more via Sex and Politics and Creeds and Attitudes.
123. Links, Awards and Other Good Blogishness via She Lives.
124. Peace, be still. It’s Armistice Day. via Short Woman.
125. Sick of It via SICKOFITRADLZ.
126. posted Banner and review of I will not be broken via Writing in FaithWriting in Faith: Previews and Reviews.
127. Banner via Socialism.
128. Survivor Corps – Electronic Media News Releases via Soldiers Angels Network.
129. Survivor Corps via Soldiers Angels New York.
130. Survivor Corps via Soldiers’ Angels New York.
131. Need a little Inspiration? via My Life As A Military Spouse.
132. Banner via Stepping Right Up!.
133. Survivor Corps via Straight, Not Narrow.
134. Veterans Day via The Adventures of Super Mommy & Spitup Boy.
135. Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day – American Thinker via Survivor.
136. Operation Survivor – excerpt from website via Arthriticyoungthing.
137. posted Banner via Screw Politically Correct B.S..
138. Banner via The Political Jungle.
139. Survivor Corps via Tao of Katie.
140. Help veterans through Survivor Corps via The Reaction.
141. The bridge, the sacrifice, more via The Common Ills.
142. Banner via The Inside Dope.
143. A Belated Veterans (Day) Post via The Moderate Voice.
144. A Belated Veterans (Day) Post via Funny Blog.
145. Veterans and PTSD via Where There’s a Will There’s a Way.
146. Tuesday, November 11. 2008. via This French Life.
147. we posted? via This Fucking War.
148. Survivor Corps Website via Untreatable Online.
149. cross post via News Updated Frequently.
150. Survivor Corps via Unveal Blues.
151. Banner via VDog and Little Man.
152. Banner via Virginia Left Wing.
153. cross post via Today on Vot3r.
154. Banner via mikesmercurialmaddness.
155. As Long as We’re Bailing Out CEOs… via World-O-Crap.
156. Wake Up Americans via Wake Up America.
157. Survivor Corps via Wake Up America.
158. Xyence via The Xyience Diet Resource.
159. Please Help the Veterans via Yaw and Mog.
160. Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and their Families! via Young Philly Politics.
161. Survivor Corps Supports Returning Vets and Their Families! via Zimbio.
162. Mojo Mom says thank you to military families via Mojo Mom.

I daresay we’ll be get more so there might very well be another thank you email. Again, both Abraham Harrison and Survivor Corps thank you very much for all of your continued generosity and support!

Veteran’s Day this year is especially poignant since it has been 5 years since the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan began. Thank you to everyone who helped Survivor Corps get the message out about Operation Survivor and all the amazing work that Survivor Corps does for vets, for returning troops, and for their families. Here’s a list of all of your fine work:

• Please Help Me Support Our Troops on Veteran’s Day via Chris Abraham.
• banner via On the Upside.
• Veterans and PTSD via Where There’s a Will There’s a Way.
• Support Our Troops NOW via MamaBugs…Homeschooling Where the Air Force Sends Us!.
• Peace be still. It?s Armistice Day. via Short Woman.
• Do Not Abandon Our Vets via understanding the effects of unresolved abandonment issues.
• Helping the Walking Wounded on November 11 via Serge the concierge.
• Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day via Americanthinker.
• Veterans Day via Bodhi Baby.
• Veterans Day via The Adventures of Super Mommy & Spitup Boy.
• Operation Survivor via Britannica.
• Veteran’s Day via Danny Fisher.
• Donate to help our Troops via Make it Happen.
• Remembrance Day via Around the World in beautiful Shoes.
• Operation Survivor via Big Blueberry Eyes.
• In Their Boots via Holly’s Fight for Justice.
• In Their Boots via Holly’s Fight to Stop Violence.
• Veterans Day via Chip’s Quips.
• Help Our Troops This Veterans Day via Locust Fork Blog.
• Banner via Socialism.
• In Banner Rotation via Redline.
• Veteran’s Day via Weapons of Mass Discussion.
• Help Our Troops This Veteran’s Day via Culture11.
• side bar banner via Mommy Bytes.
• Veteran’s deserve not just a word but also a hand: Operation Survivor via Rich Kirkpatrick.
• Survivor Corps: Help a veteran break the cycle of violence via Hormone-Colored Days.
• Veterans Day via On the Fringe.
• The bridge the sacrifice more via The Common Ills.
• Someone alerted me to the good work that Survivor Corps via Big Bark.
• Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and Their Families via GoMekong.com.
• Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day – American Thinker via Survivor.
• Helping Veterans (a day late) via Just Enjoy Him: Ramblings of a Mid-Life Mom.
• Survivor Corps: Operation Survivor via Political Reps.
• Survivor Corps Website via Untreatable Online.
• Survivor Corps Operation Survivor: A Worthwhile Cause to Consider via Mount Virtus.
• Veterans Day via State of Ohio Blogger Alliance.
• A Day To Honor Those Who Have Served Their Country via Political Vindication.
• Courage via Last One Speaks.
• banner via A Disgruntled Republican.
• An Appeal via Don Surber’s blog.
• Mojo Mom says thank you to military families via Mojo Mom.
• Survivor Corps via Miss Cellania Blog.
• For a Good Cause via The Local Crank.
• Operation Survivor-Survivor Corps and TroopTube via Where the Hell Am I?.
• In Honor of Veterans’ Day via James Kotecki.
• banner” via Into the Woods Living Deliberately.
• Survivor Corps Supports Returning Vets and Their Families! via Zimbio.
• Please Help the Veterans via Yaw and Mog.
• posted banner and review of I will not be broken” via Writing in FaithWriting in Faith: Previews and Reviews.
• banner’ via Pardon Me For Asking.
• Veterans Deserve Your Help via New Zeal.
• I Will Not Be Broken via For the Heck of It.
• Per a Request via Budget Nomad – US Ex – Pat on the Move.
• banner’ via Blog Mommas.
• banner via Myrtus.
• banner via Married to the Army.
• Survivor Corps. Rise Above. Give Back via All 4 My Gals.
• Re: Vast Write Wing – November 2008 via Be Logical.
• Survivor Corps. Help for Surviving Troops via Mommy Does it All.
• Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and their Families! via Right Michigan.
• Indigenist News Items for: 11-14-2008 via Inteligentaindigena Novajoservo.
• banner via Gary Presley.
• banner via Seven Wheelchairs.
• Operation Survivor via The Political Junkie.
• Need a little Inspiration? via My Life As A Military Spouse.
• Banner via Preemptive Karma.
• Operation Survivor – excerpt from website via Arthriticyoungthing.
• banner via Rightwingchamp.
• Survivor Corp-Returning Troops via What’s Delmer Look Like?.
• posted banner via Screw Politically Correct B.S..
• palin survivor corps heroes and more via Sex and Politics and Creeds and Attitudes.
• banner via Bearing Drift.
• banner via Kentucky Progress.
• Supporting Returning Troops via Donklephant.
• banner via Gapers Block.
• Katrina vanden Heuvel is an idiot via Ruth’s Report.
• Supporting Our Troops via Book Errising.
• Survivor Corps – Electronic Media News Releases via Soldiers Angels Network.
• A Belated Veterans (Day) Post via The Moderate Voice.
• posted link on blogroll via Political Grind.
• They don’t go away when Veterans Day ends via Around the Island.
• Survivor Corps offers peer support to injured vets via Media Dis&Dat.
• Survivor Corps via A Leg Up.
• Supporting Our Troops: Operation Survivor via The Daily Gotham.
• Survivor Corps: Founds Operation Survivor Project to Assist U.S. Military Combat Veterans in Transitioning to Civilian Life via A DC Observer.
• banner via Iraq The Model.
• Survivor Corps Supports Returning Troops and their Families! via Young Philly Politics.
• banner via The Inside Dope.
• Survivors of War via Ponderings on a Faith Journey.
• Survivor Corps via Charming Just Charming.
• Survivor Corps via Knee Deep in the Hooah.
• Tis the season to help our troops via Manatee’s Military Moms.
• A Belated Veterans (Day) Post via Funny Blog.
• Support ‘Survivor Corps’ this Veterans Day via American Thinker.
• Supporting Returning Troops via Northloop Neighborhood.
• As Per Request via Budget Nomad – US Ex – Pat on the Move.
• Some Odds and Ends of the Election via The Liberal Life of a Navy Wife .
• Returning Troops…A Noble Cause via Dodgeblogium.
• Survivor Corps Website via Untreatable Online.
• Standing up for Max Cleland on Veteran’s Day via Informed Comment.
• Standing up for Max Cleland on Veteran’s Day via Big Bark.
• Read Terrance D.C. via Oh Boy it Never Ends.
• Katrina Vanden Heuvel is an Idiot via Ruth’s Report.
• Iraq snapshot (The Common Ills) via Like Maria Said Paz.
• Tuesday November 11. 2008. via This French Life.
• Survivor Corps Program-Help! via Swimming Against the Red Tide.
• Survivor Corps via Kung Fu Monkey.
• banner via Leucadia Blog.
• banner via Bearing Drift.

You have done an amazing thing for the vets and also for the mission of Survivor Corps domestically and around the world. Thank you for your posts and for your banner placement. Never hesitate to contact me personally or my team at Abraham Harrison. Also, always please feel free to contact the entire Survivor Corps team.

If you have not been keeping on top of all of the great comments streaming in to the AH Poll entitled “If John McCain died or became incapacitated, would Sarah Palin be competent to be President?” you are really missing out! Some of them are the most insightful, thoughtful, and brilliant collection of thoughts representing the best and the worst of the right and the left! Roll up your sleeves and batten your hatches because you’re going to have one hell of a ride. Oh, also, these comments are in reverse-chronological order so the most recent are at the top. If you want to keep track of them live, please go visit them where they love and breathe. Read below for the most amazing Sarah Palin comment thread of the Internets!

And, here’s an embed of the poll, if I’ve piqued your interest by now:

New oOVoo 1/5 Version is Now Installed!, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

Well, I will let you know what I discover when I play around with my new version of ooVoo, 1.5: free phone calls (like SkypeOut), ability to record your video conferences of up to 6 participants, and something that’s new and whimsical, fun video effects. I can’t wait to play. Even though ooVoo is my client (through the wonderful company crayon) I still actually use the tool: chats with my business partner in Mauritius, “calls” with my Director of Client Services in Capetown, South Africa, and generally, the rest. You should try it out — it is pretty cool, and free to boot!

I like to rib my German friends in Berlin because they’re always wearing these silly Chairman Mao hats — everyone wears OD green and black caps. If you want some good advice to help you look cool while visiting or living in Berlin, please just dress like a distressed communist revolutionary student protester… blue jeans, Adidas soccer shoes, hoodies, leather coats or bomber jackets — dark colors — but you can wear these until you’re deep in your 40s so buying an assortment of them is a worthwhile investment. I like to call it “Vanguard of the Proletariat Fashion.”

I know that folks from Munich are appalled by the way Berliners dress (“No style in Berlin, Chris, no style,” says the dapper Munich 30-something in the three piece suit on a recent visit). I still wear my Chris Abraham uniform: blue jeans, black Lacoste polos or Ts, and Australian boots (Rossis or Blundstones), A sweater, a Barbour jacket (yes, green and waxy with lots of pockets) and a coat liner. I like to think I don’t stand out too badly but certainly don’t fit in. Maybe I will buy an approved Berliner uniform when I return.

I know for sure that Frank and Claudia, Berliners, have spent the last couple years slowly moving Mark into the world of leather coats and hoodies, dark-colored indigo jeans, and cool trainers. But they have not gotten to me yet. Maybe in 2008 I will have a little green chairman Mao cap all my own. Unlike most German men in their 30s, I have not started balding yet.

Before I start, check out Sean Connery’s costume (left). Zardoz is the most important movie nobody (I know) has seen. Forget that there is a lot of nakedness and topless women; or, that you get to see a super-buff, 1974-era, Sean Connery running around for more than two hours in a pair of underwear; this is an important movie or utopia gone terribly distopian.

Zardoz is written and played out like a Broadway musical, with lithe dancer-actors, it is presented like a play. This is not a sophisticated movie but it will surely make you think. I would say that Zardoz is both brilliant and campy; insightful and kitchy, and brutal and actually very good at dealing with the concept of balance: in order to grow as men and as a society, one cannot — must not — merely separate physically from poverty, ignorance, sickness, and death; but, rather, integrate, integrate, integrate — or perish. Bravo! See it.

The quote that is most popular from the movie comes from the first scene. God Zardoz says,

“The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill!”

“In this cult favorite from John Boorman (Beyond Rangoon), 23rd century society is split into two castes — the overly civilized Eternals and the barely civilized Brutals — one of which is constantly controlling the other. The Brutals worship a huge stone figure known as Zardoz. When Zed (Sean Connery) begins to question the authenticity of this god, the film is able to offer some pointed commentary on class structure and religion.” Via Zardoz/60020833?trkid=14″>Netflix

“Zardoz BY ROGER EBERT / January 1, 1974

John Boorman’s ZARDOZ is a genuinely quirky movie, a trip into a future that seems ruled by perpetually stoned set decorators. It’s set in an Ireland of 2293 that looks exactly like the Ireland of today, until you get inside the Vortex. And then suddenly everything is shimmering gowns and futuristic throne rooms and beautiful young people who glide around at an endless debutante ball.

These are the Immortals. They will never die. They cannot. Every time they try to, their bodies are relentlessly restored by the all-knowing mystical computer mind that runs the Vortex. There’s a catch, though: They can’t die but they can grow old, and for infractions, they’re sentenced to age a few years. If they don’t watch themselves, they might wind up as Immortal Seniles.

Outside the Vortex, a barbaric civilization survives. Slaves till the land and gather the crops, ruled over by sadistic masters who sometimes gallop around killing off the surplus population. One of the barbarians is Zed, played by Sean Connery as a cross between Tarzan and Prince Valiant. But one day, Zed (like Lord Greystoke, come to think of it) finds a child’s alphabet book. He teaches himself to read and then fanatically devours the contents of whole libraries (like Thomas Wolfe, come to think of it). Eventually he comes upon The Wizard of Oz and, in a moment of blinding insight, sees through the whole joke of his world’s social structure.
Zed has himself smuggled aboard the giant floating head of Zardoz, which rules hinterlands, and finds himself inside the Vortex. Here he is an object of great interest, because the Immortals, you see, having lost the ability to die have also lost the drive to procreate and are doomed to an eternity of detumescence. Zed labors with no such difficulty.

The movie is an exercise in self-indulgence (if often an interesting one) by Boorman, who more or less had carte blanche to do a personal project after his immensely successful DELIVERANCE. Boorman seems fascinated by stories which are disconnected from the ordinary realist assumptions of most movies; his LEO THE LAST (1970) gave us Marcello Mastroianni as the last of the big-time decadents, living in a mansion at the end of a deserted street in an eerie London.

Boorman puts a lot of heavy concepts into ZARDOZ, but seems uncertain whether he takes them seriously himself. There are sight gags (the attempt to turn on Connery with futuristic pornography provides the best) , there are group seances that seem lifted bodily from pajama parties, there is no end of special visual effects (every optical printer in England must have been busy for weeks), and at the end there’s a combination shoot-out and mercy-killing spree that is at once ridiculous, depraved and low camp.

Sean Connery wanders through all of this with a slightly bemused expression on his face. He begins as a barbarian given to distrust and childish impulses, but after he gathers all knowledge to himself (the movie is full of phrases like “gathers all knowledge to himself”), he turns into a sort of body-building Einstein who sees into the center of the Vortex, deciphers the wisdom of the crystal, stimulates the Apathetics (that’s another social class I forgot to mention), makes love with a good-looking Immortal dame (she regains the knack) and finally turns into a fossil while the sound track milks Beethoven’s 7th for all it’s worth.

I remember standing in the rain once outside a theater that was playing LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD. Now there was a movie so complex and personal no one claimed to be able to understand itÑno, not even Time magazine. The people coming out from the previous show were shaking their heads and admitting that they, too, didn’t have a clue. And then it was our turn to go in and be mystified.

Every once in a while, a movie like that comes along; a movie you’ve got to see so that you, too, can be in the dark about it. In the movie’s own terms, this much can be said for sure: It may not make you an Apathetic, but it will certainly age you by two hours.”

“Zardoz Review by Scott Weinberg

If your idea of perfect science fiction consists of space battles and droids, you’re probably best advised to steer clear of John Boorman’s ultra-trippy cult classic Zardoz. If, however, you can enjoy an ironic and entertaining fantasy mind-bender, then this one might be right up your alley. While overlooked by general audiences, Zardoz is one of the most feverishly adored cult movies ever. And while the movie certainly looks outdated and even silly at times, the deeply intelligent and thought-provoking issues under the surface challenge and entertain audiences.

The year is 2293 and most of humanity has devolved into mindless ‘Brutals.’ Their god Zardoz visits these savages periodically, instructing them to hunt down and kill any human ‘Breeders’ they come across. This is because “the penis is evil,” and humanity deserves to be wiped out. Zardoz appears to his violent followers as a giant flying stone head that spits out rifles and ammo, along with his murderous decrees. Zed (Sean Connery), one of the Brutals, stows away aboard the massive stone head, which takes him to ‘the Vortex.’ The denizens of the Vortex are a race of genetically superior, immortal beings that treat one another pretty rotten and long for death. When Zed climbs out of that giant head and starts poking around, things get really screwy.

Zardoz is packed to the gills with high-minded concepts. Take the ‘apathetics.’ These are immortals who have become so bored and disassociated during their eternal lives, that they are breathing, blank zombies. Another faction of the immortals is the ‘Renegades,’ who have become irretrievably insane. These elderly creatures are dumped off in an out-of-the-way building and forgotten. Zardoz is a movie with a lot to say about the ills of society.

Since it was made in 1973, it’s no surprise that Zardoz looks dated and even downright absurd. There are more than a few costumes and set designs that may have you rolling your eyes in disbelief, but it’s important to watch a movie like this with a sense of maturity. It may be difficult to take seriously dialogue like “The penis is evil,” but a willing (and preferably enthusiastic) suspension of disbelief is essential. Yes, that’s Connery as Zed, running around in what looks like a giant red diaper… and yes, there is a scene in which Zed is forced to achieve an erection while dozens of fascinated immortals stare on. But with the plethora of challenging and satisfying ideas being tossed around in Zardoz, it’s a tough movie to dislike.

It’s a testament to writer/director John Boorman that this movie ever saw the light of day. Zardoz was obviously a labour of love for him, and to this day Connery still lists this movie as one of his favourites. If you’re a fan of science fiction in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey or Blade Runner, I would recommend Zardoz. While not as ‘polished’ as those other films, it deserves a place in anyone’s sci-fi collection.”

Plot Summary

* Genres: Fantasy, Sci-Fi
* Tagline: Beyond 1984, Beyond 2001, Beyond Love, Beyond Death
* Plot Outline In the far future, a savage trained only to kill finds a way into the community of bored immortals that alone preserves humanity’s achievements.
* Plot Synopsis: In the distant future Earth is divided into two camps, the barely civilized group and the overly civilized one with mental powers. A plague is attacking the second group after which it’s members cease to have any interest in life and become nearly catatonic. When Sean Connery one of the barbarians, crosses over, the tenuous balance in their world is threatened.
* Plot Keywords: Blindness, Bizarre, Book, Mutant Human, Crystal Ball, Head, Harvest, Mutation, Flying Head, Ring, Reverse Footage, Horseback Riding

- Actors: Sean Connery, Charlotte Rampling, Sara Kestelman, John Alderton, Sally Anne Newton, See more
- Directors: John Boorman
- Format: Anamorphic, Closed-captioned, Color, DVD-Video, Subtitled, Widescreen, NTSC
- Language: English, French
- Region: Region 1 (U.S. and Canada only. Read more about DVD formats.)
- Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
- Number of discs: 1
- Rating R
- Studio: 20th Century Fox
- DVD Release Date: March 27, 2001
- Run Time: 106 minutes
- Average Customer Review: based on 113 reviews. (Write a review.)
- DVD Features:

* Available Subtitles: English, Spanish
* Available Audio Tracks: English (Dolby Digital 3.0), English (Dolby Digital 2.0 Stereo), French (Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono)
* Commentary by director John Boorman
* Still photo gallery
* Concept Art and Pressbook Galleries

- From IMDb: Quotes & Trivia
- ASIN: B000059HAE
- Amazon.com Sales Rank: #2,570 in DVD (See Top Sellers in DVD)

Nominations

* BAFTA Awards: BAFTA Film Award for Best Cinematography
* Hugo Awards: Hugo for Best Dramatic Presentation

Trivia

* The scene where Zed (
* DIRCAMEO:(
* To help keep the movie cost down,
* Zed’s revolver is a Webley in 455 caliber.
* The exterior shots at the very opening of the movie were taken right next to director
* To make the shots of the stone head move into the mouth accurately, the camera was placed at the mouth and tracked backwards, and the film reversed in the lab.
*
* The government initially refused to allow the production team to import the guns for the movie into Ireland because of terrorist attacks occurring at the time.
* Radio spots (available on the DVD) were narrated by
* According to John Boorman, Sean Connery found it incredibly difficult to get work when he abandoned the James Bond role a second time after Diamonds are Forever. Thus, Boorman was able to hire Connery very cheaply for this project.

Goofs

* When mortality comes to the vortex, several “dead” characters can be seen moving.
* When the exterminators on horseback are killing the brutals, tire tracks can be seen on the wet beach sand.
* Early in the film, when the weapons are spewed out of the floating head’s mouth, a crewmember’s arm can be seen throwing them.
* About three minutes into the movie, when the floating head is in the clouds, part of a car can be seen in the top right corner of the screen.
* In the scene where Zed discovers the floating book, you can clearly see the strings suspending it in midair.

Movie Connections

* Remade as: Planet B: Mask Under Mask
* References: Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey
* Referenced in: Excalibur, Dark City, The Big Tease, Wonder Boys, Empire of Dreams: The Story of the ‘Star Wars’ Trilogy
* Featured in: To the Galaxy and Beyond with Mark Hamill, The Fly Papers: The Buzz on Hollywood’s Scariest Insect

Quotes

* Arthur: It was I! I bred you! I led you!
Zed: And I have looked into the face of the force which put the idea in your head. You are bred and led yourself.
* Friend: We’ve all been used…
Arthur Frayn: …and reused…
Friend: …and abused…
Arthur Frayn: …and amused!
* Zardoz: The gun is good.
Exterminators: The gun is good.
Zardoz: The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life, and poisons the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth and kill!
* Zed: Stay behind my aura!
* Consuella: The brutal is now in fourth hour of unconscious sleep. It’s astonishing that Homo Sapiens spends so much time in this vulnerable condition, at the mercy of its enemies.
* Zed: I want the truth.
May: You must give the truth, if you wish to receive it.
Zed: I’m ready.
May: It’ll burn you!
Zed: Then burn me.
* The Tabernacle: Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four. Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four.
* Zardoz: Zardoz is pleased.
* The Tabernacle: Vote, please. Vote, please.
* The Tabernacle: I cannot give information which may threaten my own security.
* [watching his memory-scan video of hunting down Brutals] Zed: I love to see them running. I love the moments of their deaths – when I am one with Zardoz.
* [first lines]
Arthur Frayn: I am Arthur Frayn, and I am Zardoz. I have lived 300 years, and long to die. But death is no longer possible, I am immortal. I present now my story – full of mystery and intrigue. Rich in irony, and most satirical. It is set deep within a possible future, so none of these events have yet occurred. But they may! Be warned, lest you end as I. In this tale I am a fake god by occupation, and a magician by inclination. Merlin is my hero! I am the puppet master. I manipulate many of the characters and events you will see. But I am invented too for your entertainment and amusement. And you, poor creatures, who conjured you out of the clay? Is God in showbusiness too?
* [to Zed] Consuella: I have hunted you so long, I have become you.
* George Saden: I think what I think. I hate you all. I hate you all. I hate you all. Including me…
* [about to Liberate Consuela] Zed: All that I am is gone.
* [Zed breaks the heart of the crystal] The Tabernacle: You have destroyed us. You are alone.
* Consuella: Penile erection was one of the many unsolved evolutionary mysteries surrounding sexuality. Every society had an elaborate subculture devoted to erotic stimulation. But nobody could quite determine how this…
[Consuella points to a diagram of a male penis and scrotum]
Consuella: becomes this.
[Consuella points to a diagram of an erect penis and scrotum]
Consuella: Of course, we all know the physical process involved, but not the link between stimulus and response. There seems to be a correlation with violence, with fear. Many hanged men died with an erection. You are all more or less aware of our intensive researches into this subject. Sexuality declined probably because we no longer needed to procreate. Eternals soon discovered that erection was impossible to achieve. And we are no longer victims of this violent, convulsive act which so debased women and betrayed men. This brutal
[Sean Connery]
Consuella: , like other primates living unselfconscious lives, is capable of spontaneous and reflexive erection. As part of May’s studies of this creature, we’re trying to find, once again, the link between erotic stimulation and erection. This experiment will measure autoerotic stimulation of the cortex, leading to erection.
* The Tabernacle: Sleep was necessary for man when his waking and unconscious lives were separated. As Eternals achieved total consciousness, sleep became obsolete and Second Level meditation took its place.
* Zed: What is it you want?
Friend: Sweet death. Oblivion.
Zed: For yourself, or for the whole Vortex?
Friend: For Everybody. An end to the human race. It has plagued this pretty planet for far too long.
Zed: You stink of despair. Fight back! Fight for death, if that’s what you want.
Friend: I thought at first you were the one to help. But it’s hopeless. All my powers have gone.
* May: Friend, I cannot sanction this violence and destruction.
Friend: It’s too late, May. There’s no going back.
May: Don’t destroy the Vortex! Let us renew it. A better breed could prosper here. Given time…
Friend: Time? Wasn’t eternity enough?
Zed: This place is against life. It must die.
May: I have my followers. Inseminate us all, and we’ll teach you all we know. Give you all we have. Perhaps you can break the Tabernacle. Or be broken.
Friend: An end to eternity.
May: A higher form.
Zed: Revenge.
* [to Consuela] Zed: Can you unknow what you know of me?”

Zardoz from Wikipedia

Zardoz is a 1974 science fiction film directed by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery in one of his first post-James Bond roles. The film contains a mix of mythology, a bizarre, sprawling plot filled with twists and incongruities, and wide-ranging satirical and allegorical stabs. Filmed on a small budget of US$1 million, Zardoz‘s mixture of cerebral, philosophical sci-fi was in complete contrast to Boorman’s previous film, the brutal thriller Deliverance. The film was shot by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth. An attempt to market the film to the post-2001: A Space Odyssey audience was unsuccessful, although the film has since developed a cult following.

Plot

In a future post-apocalypse Earth (2293), the human population is divided into the immortal “Eternals” and mortal “Brutals”. The Brutals live in a dark-ages wasteland. The Eternals, who live apart in various “Vortices” (singular “Vortex”), hidden bastions of civilization, lead a luxurious but aimless existence. The contrast between the two groups is stark. In general, calamity after calamity has reduced life on much of the Earth to dire subsistence levels. The distant Eternals are unknown to most people. The only contact between the groups is through a religious warrior class called the “Exterminators”, who kill and terrorize other Brutals at the orders of a huge flying stone head called Zardoz. The stone head supplies them with weapons and ideology in exchange for the food they collect.

Zed (Connery), an Exterminator, hides aboard Zardoz during one trip, “killing” its Eternal operator-creator, Arthur Frayn (Niall Buggy). Arriving in the Vortex as a stowaway, Zed meets two Eternals — Consuella (Charlotte Rampling) and May (Sara Kestelman). They possess psychic powers, and make Zed a prisoner of the community of decadent effetes in order to study him. Zed is put to work as a physical laborer under the direction of subversive troublemaker called Friend (John Alderton).

Over time Zed learns the nature of the Vortex. The Eternals are overseen and protected from death by an AI called the Tabernacle. Through their vastly extended lifespan the Eternals have grown bored, corrupt, and impotent. They spend days stewarding the vast knowledge of humanity while doing little themselves besides participating in bizarre rituals and mass meditations navel gazing. As they never die and the passage of time is largely meaningless as a result, violating the complex set of social rules, and thereby going “Renegade”, results in artificial aging. An Eternal thus aged will remain as the feeble elderly for the rest of time. More recently some have fallen into catatonia through an odd mental illness, forming a new social strata the Eternals call the “Apathetics”.

As the story progresses, it becomes clear that Zed is not quite the “brutal” the Eternals believe him to be. He very quickly divines the nature of the Vortex and its problems, and starts to play an increasingly proactive role among the Eternals. The backstory develops to reveal that Zed was aware of the true nature of Zardoz, having been led to an old book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz; the origin of the name Zardoz (Wizard of Oz). After revealing that Frayn had led him to the book and taught him to read, the story is completed; Zed is the ultimate creation of Frayn’s long-running experiment in creative eugenics, using the Exterminator class to control the Brutals with the aim of breeding a superman to save humanity from its dead-end status quo. He had led Zed to understand the nature of Zardoz, hoping he would use it to infiltrate the Vortex.

The Eternals discover the deceit and “age” Friend, while attempting to control Zed. But Zed is actually superior in intelligence to the eternals, and is eventually able to withstand their psychic powers. He destroys the Tabernacle, after which the Vortex is invaded by other Exterminators who bring death to the majority of Eternals, typically with their blessing, given the novelty of the events. A few Eternals escape to make a new life outside the Vortex among the Brutals, carrying the knowledge of civilization. The allegorical ending shows Zed and Consuella producing a child, growing old and dying naturally, whilst the sound of the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony swells in the soundtrack.
Spoilers end here.

History

Zardoz is is notable for being the first time a search engine (or a precursor) is shown in a film, retrieving visual images from a database, years before the personal computer was invented. Arthur Frayne is shown instructing the computer to search for specific images of Cars in the way that we associate with search engines, except with voice recognition software .

Production

In the DVD commentary Boorman repeatedly complains about the low budget of the film. Nevertheless he attempted to fill it with a sort of concept art. The Exterminators hunt down the Brutals while wearing large red paper mache facemasks, loincloths and matching bandoliers. The Brutals are instead dressed almost universally in sport coats and jeans, except for young women, who are dressed in “caveman” garb. If this were not enough, in one scene Zed escapes from the Eternals by dressing in a wedding gown. The head of Zardoz, arguably the most important set in terms of plot development, is clearly made of painted paper mache. Most of the sets in the Vortex are equally low quality, variously consisting of large inflated plastic sheets, “olde English” villages, or pastel decorated sets – the Tabernacle is simply a room filled with mirrors.

Reception

In 2004 the magazine Total Film described Connery’s costume (consisting of a ponytail wig, leather knee boots, and a loincloth which bears a strong resemblance to a giant orange nappy or diaper) as the number 1 “dumbest decision in movie history”.

References in popular culture

This article contains a trivia section.
Content in this section should be integrated into other appropriate areas of the article or removed, and the trivia section removed.

* The DC Comics character Vartox is a near-carbon copy of Zed. He has an exact replica of Zed’s clothing, brown hair, and receding hairline. The character’s name is even close to sounding like the “Vortex” of the film.
* The video game Time Bandit, which has several science fiction references, mentions the “spirits of Zardoz“.[citation needed]
* The video for “Dreams” by the rock band TV on the Radio features a huge stone head like the one in “Zardoz” that disintegrates at the video’s end.
* The webcomic Questionable Content referred to Zardoz multiple times in comic number 830].
* Saul was dressed as Zed in an episode of Saul of the Mole Men, “Fun King Johnny”, when he was on trial by combat.

Quotes

If the content can be changed to be more encyclopedic rather than just a list of quotes, please do so and remove this message. Otherwise, you can help by formatting it per the Wikiquote guidelines in preparation for the duplication.

* Zardoz: The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill! [Zardoz proceeds to vomit a torrent of rifles and ammunition for his followers to use.]

Although I am not certain any of the following actually happened, I am going to regale you with some of the boorish stories I have been sharing with friends for years. They are all St Louis School JROTC Rangers stories. In High School, I was in JROTC and a member of the elite club called the Rangers.  And the JROTC Rangers do exist:

JROTC RANGER TEAM

The JROTC Ranger Team is a six man cadet team that competes in various physical competition with other JROTC units that include: Physical Fitness test, Rappelling, Rope Bridging, Endurance/Obstacle Course, 12 mile Team Run, 1,800 meter swim, First Aid, Terrain/Land Navigation and Tug-o-War.   The team trains daily during Period 9 from 1435 to 1545 hours and selected weekends.

Contact LTC Charles Lee or 1SG Jimmy Akuna

Our public claim-to-fame is that we wore spit-polished-and-bloused jump boots and a black beret with a red and blue, school colors flash. I wore an official yellow-on-black Ranger patch on my shoulder and strutted around school ever Thursday with my chest in the air. We were so proud that we ignored the fact that we were despised by both our fellow JROTC colleagues who were not part of our club and the student body at-large. We considered the former to be jealous and the latter to be ignorant.Our private claim-to-fame was that we disappeared into the subtropical forests of the Northwestern shore of Oahu every weekend, every Spring Break, and during many of the other holidays and long weekends. Disappearing was always very important for us because the simple field trip form that our parents signed for us allowed us to be officially part of the training of weekend warriors during the mid-eighties.

We teens were used as Opposing Forces, known as OpFor, against the gentle field exercises practiced by the U.S. Army Reserves and the National Guard. We were only between two to four fire teams of five young men, but we were very well and insanely motivated. Our call was, “motivated, dedicated, hua! Rangers!” We were afraid of nothing much because we wanted to kill the enemy and because we really thought it was a game. Had no insight into the import of these little war games on old East Range.

On Friday afternoon on Saturday morning, we Rangers would collect upon Kolaipuhaku at the top of the oval driveway, ready with our Alice packs, our field jacket, our BDUs, our ponchos, our web gear, and our two-sided 30-round banana clips filled with 5.56mm blanks and lashed together with olive green duct tape.

As we awaited the white school bus with the dark tinted windows, we stood there in rank. Oftentimes, since we would deploy immediately upon arriving at the base, we would stand in-line and jump up and down. Our team leaders and our officers would weave between us, checking us for noises. We got taped-down and cinched up. We lost the loose change, and we stowed our house keys. We stowed our precious black berets and donned our floppy-brimmed boonie hats and pale green caps, the ones with the cats eyes sewn into the back.

When the bus arrived, we filtered in and some of us would crash and other would flip through their team movement and tactic manuals, memorizing L ambush techniques and the best use of cover fire, as one does. Since I never did the whole camp thing, I am feeling that this is about as close to that as I ever got. For sure, I wished I could have trained for this all summer. During the summer we did train, but it was much more casual an involved parties and the beach and girls and Boone’s Farm apple wine and Mickey’s big mouth and peppermint schnapps. But that’s another story.

So, depending on with whom we were training and where, we would either drive for an hour out to Schofield Barracks and East Range or for a stopover in Waikiki in about fifteen minutes.

From there, we would get briefed by a lieutenant who I am sure considered his career over as we fell into his lap, and then we would be shipped out, never to sleep again until Sunday night. In a nutshell, these weekends went like this:

We were dropped off at East Range, received our maps and a briefing, and then we split up into our five-man fire teams. I was the only pigman, or machine gunner, of the entire Saint Louis Rangers, but I have played the part of radio operator with my Prick 77 (PRC-77), of point man, and of pigman. As pigman, I got stuck with the 23-pound machine gun of Rambo fame. And I loved it. As the pigman, I got to have an assistant gunner, who carried extra belts of ammo and an extra barrel. Unlike the M-16, the M-60 runs a bigger caliber ammunition and runs much hotter, especially blocked as it was with a blank adapter. Nothing is better than being on your belly at the elbow of an L ambush in the middle of the night, your pig resting on its bipod and pointing downrange at the headlights of a 3AM caravan of deuce-and-a-half’s, awaiting your commander’s orders to open fire. But that’s another story.

It was very cool for sure, and felt very real. I will make a point of telling as many of the stories as I can remember.

Some of my friends know that I was in JROTC as a boy in my all-boys Catholic School, Saint Louis School.

And some of them even know that I was a JROTC Ranger and that I wore my Class-A Army Uniform with spit-polished jump boots and a black beret. A couple close friends know that when I was in High School I spent every weekend and every holiday out in the boonies as a member of an elite squad of teenage guerillas.

We had an amazing Sergeant Major. I am trying to remember his name and I will. But for now, suffice it to say, he could do anything from his little bat cave which to the outside world appeared to be the JROTC department.

When the other kids were playing tennis, we were doing side-straddle-hops (side-straddle-hop!) and dropping and doing twenty. When the other kids were meeting girls at the local McDonalds we were in BDUs and in the jungle behind the school, practicing silent movement techniques. When the other kids were doing homework, we were huddled in one of the JROTC classrooms, light off, memorizing the silhouettes of ally and enemy tanks, helicopters, and airplanes. We were tested on the turrets of the M1 Abrams versus the new T80s. We listened to the retort on tape of the M-16 versus the more staccato AK-47. We knew how to field strip the M-16 blindfolded.

On the weekends, when other kids were at the beach, getting stoned, or seeing movies with girls, we were in pale green slant pocket Vietnam-era fatigues, we had cammie greasepaint all over our faces, we clutched onto M-16s, and we sat in the back of Scout jeeps, swinging from the M47 Dragon mounted in the back, between our legs.

We were told that our story was that we were a guerilla force, Spetsnaz, and we were dropped, HAHO, way behind enemy lines in order to disrupt the supply channels to the front. We were given M-16s with blank adaptors. We were given blank smoke/bank Claymore mines and told to be OpFor against the weekend best that Hawaii’s National Guard and Army Reserves could offer. And since nobody wanted to associate with us kids on the field, we were basically given carte blanche to do whatever we wanted. We had an entire weekend, a signed note from our parents allowing us on this field trip, boonie caps, and we were armed to the gills with 30-round banana clips doubled-up and taped together.

We were young, fearless, motivated, trained, and between 14- and 18-years-old.

JROTC RANGER TEAM

The JROTC Ranger Team is a six man cadet team that competes in various physical competition with other JROTC units that include: Physical Fitness test, Rappelling, Rope Bridging, Endurance/Obstacle Course, 12 mile Team Run, 1,800 meter swim, First Aid, Terrain/Land Navigation and Tug-o-War.   The team trains daily during Period 9 from 1435 to 1545 hours and selected weekends.

Contact LTC Charles Lee or 1SG Jimmy Akuna

Just to be clear, when you blog it is not the same as taking the piss out of your boss and the job down at the pub. Blogging is public and universally-accessible so you will be discovered and probably fired if you bite the hand that feeds you.

The other morning NPR had an article about a Brit git who said that he wrote in his blog as if he were down at his local with his mates. This included a lot of vitriolic pissing about his awful boss and crap job. He was indignant when he was kicked to the curb.

Here are some recent articles outlining how “on the dole” blogging smack about your job might put you, lad, as well as some very useful advice.

Washington Post: Free Expression Can Be Costly When Bloggers Bad-Mouth Jobs

CNN Money: Have a blog, lose your job?

SFGate: BLOGS Beware if your blog is related to work

ZDNet Australia: Google blogger: ‘I was terminated’

INVESTORS.COM: Blogger booted by Google

Scotsman: Bookshop worker first to be sacked over internet ‘blog’

If you don’t like your job, just quit; otherwise, I highly recommend nipping down to the pub for real and getting rid of some of that rage. In the pub your insufferable pissing and moaning is ephemeral; on the Internet, your words are forever.

And if you are an employer who wants to find out if your employees or folks in general are blogging about you and what they are saying, pop me an email or call me and I would be happy to talk to you about some very effective solutions indeed.

May 19, 2002, Washington, DC – When you are 32 and charmed, its pretty difficult to leave the Mister Magoo world of happy obliviousness. Well, being on the Grand Jury with our focus on Murder, Mayhem, and Sexual Abuse is like a boot camp for getting out of my guilded carriage to see what it is down that dark alley.

Well, I have finished three-of-five weeks of being a Grand Jurist. I am the Sergeant-at-Arms and one of 23. We are down to 22, but a quorum is 16. Let me tell you, this job sucks and my soul has been a casualty. Thank God to have had this experience.

I have already made a comparison, although clumsily, between this Grand Jury experience and Buddha’s realization that his world was a charmed illusion, a manufactured gentility created by his rich family.

I don’t know who my rich family is, but its certainly a protected demographic. My racial profile protects me, I am sure. The world is not so gentle, I fear, in many places and in many ways that I have been totally unwilling to entertain until this unending and merciless barrage of hate, numbness, and desperation washed like Chinese water torture from a fire hose over me and I feel vaguely numb and vaguely nauseous.

I was pretty much in denial until I slept most of the weekend away. My body and mind and soul were punished. I have been drinking more and also smoking and looking around to hang out with friends almost every night. But I cannot say much because everything that goes on is Secret and Private.

And the lives of many people AKA witnesses are at risk. Many of these people take their lives into their own hands every time they come to sit in our arraignment hearing.

There might be around six rounds from a .380 with their name on it. Some people pop caps over some of the most stupid ass things. In many places in the world, one cannot assume that there is terribly much value associated with the human life. Luckily for some, the human body can really and surprisingly hold on to life through heightened levels of brutality I could not hitherto even imagine.

Ignorance is bliss. I have so much respect, admiration, and even Love for the system. Its an Emergent system. Each person genuinely have the common good in mind: cops (under cover, vice, drug, beat), advocates (some of whom are mighty cute and all are rock stars!), support staff, paralegals, security guards. I have yet to meet incompetence. Its very comforting.

I promise you that no matter what your body type you will always look better in a pair of boot cut jeans, especially if you have hips. Tapered legs and wide hips don’t go well together at all. Also, many pairs of Seven Jeans or Citizen of Humanity Jeans are stretchy and have lycra content. The stretchiness of the fabric is very flattering to everyone. Men, you too can benefit from a pair of Sevens for men. Since they’re lower cut, you don’t have the godawful “mom jean” effect.

And even though the 22-year-olds in my office tell me that Sevens and COH jeans are “so over” they’re not for old farts like us.

I hate to say it, but if you’re a woman and wearing Levi 501s or Levi 505s, your probably wearing seriously unflattering jeans and there are interns and college girls who are pointing at you and talking behind your back. They’re mom jeans. You look like this:

Do me a favor. You don’t have to buy them just give them a try. Try on a pair. For the love of God! You just have to go to Bloomingdales, Macy’s, or Nordstrom. Try some on. Try loads. Bring ten pair in all sorts of sizes in with you.

Also, they’re all cut long — you will surely need to have them hemmed — none of these jeans are measure for length. You will need to get them altered unless you have super long legs. If you have super long legs, you are probably already wearing a flattering pair of butt jeans.

Also, get them altered for heels. Otherwise, they’re cut wrong. When you go to the drycleaners to get them altered, bring your date heels. They need to be cut to the floor with your heels on. Otherwise, when you wear them with heels, they will be painfully too short.

Its true. Keep your eyes open. You will start to really notice the way women wear them.

You will probably come into a bill of about $125-$175.

There is Citizen of Humanity, Seven Jeans, Paper Denim… well, here’s a list — if the jeans you want to get are not on this list, don’t get them.

• Paper, Denim & Cloth
• D & G
• Chip & Pepper
• True Religion
• Blue Cult
• Hudson
• Earnest Sewn
• Joe’s Jeans
• Jordache Vintage
• Paige Denim
• Citizens of Humanity
• Frankie B
• Earl Jeans
• Marc by Marc Jacobs
• Salt Works
• Seven for All Mankind

You’re going to feel uncomfortable in them at first. Ask someone else if you look good in them. You don’t have the taste for this yet. You are stuck in the 80s. At the best, the early 90s. Your jeans taste is awful. Even your cute jeans aren’t.

Sorry but its true.

At this very moment, I am wearing a pair of boot-cut 7 For All Mankind jeans for men. So, do I feel conspicuous and foolish? No. In fact, they are amazingly comfortable, they’re a lot dressier than my Gap and Levis, and they actually fit. And women notice them.

They have a tell-date little curly-cue on the back pockets that let the feminine world know that you’re onto them and to their amazing powers of butt.

I don’t call them butt jeans, though — I call them Date Jeans.

According to my article, Citizens of Humanity Makes Best Butt Jeans, I am wearing $136 butt jeans.

How did I end up with a pair of Seven Jeans ? Well, my friend’s sister noticed that I had a hole in the crotch of my old Levis and shamed me into jeans shopping.

So, off I went to Tyson’s in McLean, VA, and went shopping.

I ended up at the Levis Store but couldn’t find any jeans I liked. Or fitted. I asked a really trendy little guy there, who reminded me of my friend Elijah, to help me.

After exhaustive minutes of no luck and poor-fit, he leaned over and told me to go to Nordstroms and get me a pair of Sevens . Boot cut. “Even my dad looks good in them,” he said, suggesting that maybe I looked a little like his dad.

When I tried them on, I started to notice that the first pair felt and looked great. I tried on a pile of them, but came back to the first pair, which has wear but doesn’t look worn.

And the rest is history. I also discovered that the guy who makes Citizens of Humanity jeans is the estranged brother of the man who makes 7 For All Mankind jeans .

Its all in the family.

Mark writes, “I decided to celebrate this International Workers’ Day by driving the rover with my family into the remote mountains here in southern Tanzania to a fly-fishing and hunting lodge . . .”

Fraternal Revolutionary greetings to my dear comrades the world over on this May Day, the 30th Anniversary of the Committee for a Workers’ International! by Mark Harrison

Onward in solidarity towards reaffirming the ideas of genuine socialism!

I decided to celebrate this International Workers’ Day by driving the rover with my family into the remote mountains here in southern Tanzania to a fly-fishing and hunting lodge up amongst the highland tea estates to spend the weekend playing lawn tennis and drinking gin and tonics. An absolutely splendid opportunity to manifest our solidarity with the international proletariat with a few invigorating rounds of golf, and a sortie or two of croquet.

The workers at the lodge estate – rather disappointingly for the glory of Socialism but rather fortunately for us – chose not celebrate May Day, they instead chose to report to work, which ensured that our meals were excellent, and that the greens were well trimmed.

The weekend offered my niece and godchild a valuable opportunity to manifest some solidarity and learn the joy of physical labor in that I permitted her to carry my golf clubs (see photo). I will be an excellent father some day.

I also taught her to fly fish – though she failed to catch anything. I intended to give her two educational gifts with our angling outing – one, the pleasure of enjoying the fruits of her labor, and two, the unparalleled joy of living off nature’s bounty – by allowing her to eat for dinner what she caught. In this particular case, of course, nothing. However, the mollycoddling grandparents, in their appallingly undidactic and emotional way, undermined my entire evening fishing trip’s work in that, at dinnertime, she was simply handed a plate of food in whose production she had had no part. I’m sure she was disappointed, though she made an impressively brave effort to put up a very convincing show of enjoying her utterly decontextualized meal. Once things have gone their course, and I have my inheritance firmly in my hand, my godchild will no longer have to suffer such unfortunate assaults to the development of her character. (see fishing photo)

Fortunately for my goddaughter’s education, the weekend started rather differently with some very good opportunities for character-building . The drive up into the mountains is only a hundred miles or so, but it is across bone-jarring, treacherously dangerous, washed-out dirt roads that make the Appalachian trail look like the Disney World monorail. Within minutes of departure, she had nausea and a headache against which to practice fortitude in the face of adversity. After a little over an hour of this hell, her whinging and moaning had decreased to a low embittered mutter, and I was afraid that she had become too rapidly acclimated to the travails of the trip and that the didactic effect would fade long before we arrived at our destination. Fortunately, well out in the middle of the bush endless miles from nowhere, the radiator cap blew off, becoming irretrievably lost, ejecting the coolant in a dramatic geyser of spewing froth and steam, the engine overheated violently, and we came to a grinding halt.

We were traveling with a group of academics – they in another rover – and this breakdown presented us with the chance to have a committee meeting in which everyone could present their completely unqualified, but impressively formulated opinions on how to fix a diesel engine in the middle of the bush with absolutely no tools or materials. The librarian spotted the bottom of a colonial-era soup can rusting on the side of the road and proposed we hammer it into the form of a radiator cap. The committee considered this and tried a few preliminary experiments with the tire iron and concluded that the idea was terrible. By this time, we were up over 6000 feet, and it was a bit chilly which gave my niece something new to build character over. All the Midwestern academics found the biting air invigorating and reminiscent of all the years they spent out in that featureless, culturally devoid hellscape between Pittsburg and Denver. My few memories of the Midwest usually pitch me toward depression, but these folks jabbered on happily about such revolting things as headcheese and ice fishing.

In any case, at some point, the menfolk realized that we each had Swiss Army knives in our pockets, so we decided that we should whittle something to solve our problem. That idea had an incredibly manly, frontiersmanlike quality to it, and the women hadn’t thought of it so we hunted down a well-sized eucalyptus branch and set to carving a cork for the radiator.

The subcommittee of men decided that the best way to hold the newly-whittled stopper in the radiator was to cut it just precisely so long that slamming the hood closed would secure it tightly in place. The women discussed something about the Midwest and my niece whinged about it being cold, which made me happy because this whole Africa experience was finally presenting an experience to toughen her up a bit.

After a bit more discussion in subcommittee, we advanced our stopper design to include a rag around the bottom of the stopper to create a tight seal, and a bunch of rag on top of the stopper to provide a compressible mass that would allow us to push the cork tightly into the radiator, but to do so without doing damage to the radiator by applying too much uncushioned force.

Unfortunately, we had no rags.

Then my mother says, “Hey, no problem, I saw some rags ground down into the road a couple hundred yards back. I’ll go pull them out.”

Now, I’m thinking “WTF?” You see, when the radiator cap blew off, my mother was driving the vehicle. So you have to imagine that we’re pounding along this hellish single track – which in itself requires intense concentration so as to avoid pitching into a gaping pothole or careening off into the bush – the view is 90% obscured by the thick clouds of dust the rovers are kicking up, and the remaining 10% of visibility is ruined by the muddy smear of dirt you create trying to clean the dust off the windshield with your wiper fluid. Now, at the time she saw, identified, and registered the presence and location of a few tattered bits of dirty cloth embedded in the dried mud of the road, she was pounding along at 40 kph and there was radiator fluid and steam spewing out of the car.

To boot, my mom is in those years where she receives Social Security, she wears trifocals, and was relatively recently hospitalized to have surgery on her failing ocular nerves. She has no peripheral vision.

Now, this of course begs the question, “Why the hell was this woman driving the vehicle?” Yes… well, when you live in a country where every mosquito bite is a potential grisly death by malaria, building codes are non-existent, car inspections leave vehicles in a state where they not-unseldomly burst into flame for little or no reason, and genocidal wars in neighboring nations is de rigueur, you get a bit lax about doing your risk-benefit analyses… I don’t know. My mom was holding the car keys when we walked out the front door… so she was driving.

Anyway, so while she didn’t notice that the temperature gauge had climbed into the DANGER zone, and bright red warning lights had turned on, she did notice that a bit of rag was embedded in the road two hundred yards back from where the rover had ground to a halt.

Women are truly amazing. It must have to do with some latent gatherer instinct that’s been unused for thousands of years except when a husband/boyfriend says, “Hun, where are my car keys?” And she’s like, “In the right breast pocket of your suede jacket under the newspaper on top of the large coffee table in the downstairs TV room. Where you left them.” Stunning. I’m truly impressed.

What I hate though, is that I’ve never had a girlfriend who could give such a response without an eye-roll, as if that location of my keys should be obvious to anyone with eyes.

I’m sorry. Women are just built differently. If my half-blind, pensioner mother can pick up the location of a bit of rag ground into the mud while navigating a fuming 4×4 skidding to a halt on a single-track, then my girlfriend can certainly donate the .0000001% of her mental processing power it requires of her to focus her instinct on remembering where each and every one of my possessions are at any given moment. And to do it without the eye-roll, thank you very much.

Anyway, it was grand that my mother registered that bit of cloth. She’s the best. A saint. I’m not sure how the rest of you survive without her as your mom.

So my saint of a mother walked back the road, dug the rag out, came back, and we constructed our composite material stopper. We filled the radiator with our bottled water (a pampered vehicle, to be sure), positioned the cork, slammed the hood and the committee decided that I was going to drive.

My niece was buoyed by the apparent success of the repair and back in good spirits. We all got in the car, I turned the key and… nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. A pitiful, quiet whine from some warning thing, and a risibly weak chug from the engine and the battery was dead.

No problem, we have two vehicles – one working. We’ll just jump it.

Wrong, no cables. Again, another opportunity for my niece to slip into despair and to notice that she was now very hungry. The Midwesterners all seemed to be enjoying this, since it somehow reminded them of their hardscrabble, working-class upbringings in Indiana or Minnesota or wherever and old Model T’s and such tripe.

We were on a slight grade, so it was decided that everyone would push, and we would roll-start the car. Now at the decision of the committee, the one person past puberty and not qualified to receive Medicare – i.e., me – is chosen to sit in the driver’s seat, while the crew of retirees and their cast of physical ailments, and a little girl get behind the rover to push it. I, strapping young man, decades from the onset of senility, doubt the wisdom of this committee decision, but who am I to questions such a large mass of aged wisdom? I get behind the wheel, and they start to push.

Now, I’ve roll-started this vehicle in our 40-foot long driveway – in reverse. The slope of our driveway is about that of a handicap access ramp at a convalescent home. You don’t need much speed to start this car.

The team of seven gets pushing and we’re going about as fast as you do in the drive-thru line at Taco Bell at lunch hour. We’re very slowly using up the bit of downward grade we’ve got left, approaching the bottom and end of our opportunity. I’m thinking, “We gotta go faster”. But how do I, 30-something guy, sitting at the wheel of a rover being pushed along a dirt track in the middle of the African bush by a group of retirees find the gall to stick my head out the window and yell. “Faster, you guys!”? Answer? I don’t.

One by one, they drop off and from their various wheezing stopping points yell some suggestions about why don’t I start the damn car… by this time, I’m going maybe 3 miles per hour and the last retiree, a healthy 65 year-old former judge from that vigorous, outdoorsy state of Washington begins to very slowly distance himself in my rearview mirror, yelling his starting suggestions. I pop the clutch, the wheels stop dead, and the rover skids to a halt in yet another cloud of dust.

Now I’m 100 yards down the road, it’s uphill in both directions, we have no jumper cables, no tow rope, and we’re in the middle of the freaking African bush. I get out of the car, and walk back up toward the reconvened committee meeting which has already started.

Still, I’m in good spirits. I’m thinking, “This is a great experience for my niece! Maybe we’ll get stuck out here and she’ll have a real Africa experience, like that time when I was a kid and the drunk soldiers in Liberia were going to execute me at that checkpoint!” I think things like that at an early age do wonders for character development. I’m completely convinced that it’s those types of mildly traumatic experiences at an age where you have no sense of mortality that give you the perspective and attitude necessary to truly enjoy the rest of life. I credit all those somewhat unpleasant experiences in my youth that I survived by the skin of my teeth with being the reasons why I am such a smashing human being.

So I’m walking back to the committee meeting with visions of toughing it out, teaching my niece how to purify water with a bit of cloth, a plastic bottle, and six hours of sunshine, or perhaps a really dangerous ride hanging onto the back of a lumber truck, or something of the sort. Something to get her to think about something other than what kind of dolphin-motif curtain she’s going to get for her bedroom when she gets back to States in the fall. Something to toughen her up inoculate her against becoming an airhead mall rat.

Then, out of the blue, a sparkling-new Land Cruiser roars by me and slides to a halt at the committee meeting. The doors spring open and out jump two tanned, sexagenarian Great White Hunter guys decked out in pith helmets and khaki short shorts. I can’t believe my freaking eyes.

The short shorts safari gents turn out to be old colonialists who came from Great Britain as children 50 years ago and still live up amongst the old colonial tea plantations, studying exotic butterflies. I’m stunned. It’s like Halloween in Chelsea.

One is a tall, still-brutally-handsome Sir Anthony Quayle type with the accent and mannerisms that make you not want him anywhere near your girlfriend. And he can probably cook, too.

His long-time companion is a petite man with a bitchy expression who makes catty comments about his partner’s fading hearing.

The safari lepiologists announce gallantly that they are returning to their estate to fetch jumper cables and a tow rope, and that they will be back forthwith! They roar back off in a cloud of dust. The womenfolk swoon. We menfolk try to change the subject to something about backcountry road construction techniques.

In a half an hour, the short short safari men are back with jumper cables, their Land Cruiser humming virilely, our rover reanimates with this automotive Kiss of Life, they give us their tow-rope just in case, and we all drive off towards our destinations.

The rest of the weekend passed affably except for an evening when we watched this awful flick, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”, in which Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner take two hours proving that a Hemmingway story can really suck. Not only was the acting unbearable, and the story painfully boring, self-indulgent, and astoundingly stupid; the oblivious racism was stunning even for its time and the Swahili they had the “natives” speak more often than not laughably and unforgivably had nothing to do with the rest of the script.

Gregory Peck (lying on a chaise lounge at the base of Kilimanjaro, in a safari camp, dying of gangrene from a cut on his leg): Mke wapi?! (Translation: “Wife where?!”)

Dark Servant Guy Incomprehensibly Wearing Fez: Alikwenda kupika nyama, bwana (Translation: “She went to cook meat, sir.”)

Gregory Peck: So, she went hunting impala…

AAAAAAAGH!!!

DIE GREGORY! DIE!

After that scene I drank a bunch of beer and went to play snooker with the retired judge who also didn’t have the fortitude to stand any more of the movie. I’m impressed that the rest of the crew was able to watch to the end – but then, their hearing is going and they don’t see so well at night, so perhaps it wasn’t as painful for them.

My niece said the movie stunk. I’m thrilled she showed some character growth this weekend.