She ups and adds 26.7 million people to the workforce.
“’We don’t need to be having something like sequestration that’s going to cause these jobs losses, over 170 million jobs that could be lost ...’
“Per the BLS, as of January 2013 there were 143.3 million people employed in the US. The total civilian workforce is 155.7 million people.”
http://ace.mu.nu/
Oh, well. She fits right in the Democratic Party part of Congress, right there with Rep. Nancy Pelosi, who talked about First Amendment references to gun ownership.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
I joined the Army with the condos and private rooms**
(A sergeant I know, after completing a service academy, said, “There is TRADOC, and then there is the Army.”)
FORT EUSTIS, VA – A former U.S. Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC) soldier was surprised to find the Army has evolved much in the last twelve years. After immediately requesting a transfer to TRADOC on September 12, 2001 and spending over a decade instructing in numerous Army schools, he decided it was time for much needed change.
“Something was missing from my life,” said Sergeant First Class Will Travis. “Even though I had the most important job in the military, training those who fight, I knew it was finally time to deploy overseas when I was passed over for promotion.”
SFC Travis was eager to reintegrate into the Army after being out for so long. He was assigned as the scout/sniper section platoon sergeant with HHC 1-160th Infantry Battalion.
“I knew I would immediately earn my soldiers respect due to my extensive teaching experience,” said SFC Travis. “The platoon even welcomed me with a heartfelt nickname — Sergeant Va-Jay-Jay. Whatever that means.”
The excitement soon wore off when Travis discovered everything he knew about the Army was wrong. Upon showing up to formation for his first field exercise wearing a LBE (load bearing equipment), woodland kevlar helmet, and wielding a M-16A2, Travis knew he had much to learn.
“The terminology and equipment was so foreign to me,” said Travis. “I was confused when told we were taking plate carriers to Afghanistan. Do they not have food trays in the dining facility over there?”
Luckily, SFC Travis found a mentor and only friend in his new platoon leader, 2nd Lieutenant Mark Ching.
The young officer, a 2011 Cal State Fullerton ROTC graduate, took pity on his platoon sergeant.
“You have to feel for the guy,” said 2LT Ching. “I know how difficult it is to be thrown into a leadership position with having no creditable military experience.”
The two quickly bonded during the long hours Lieutenant Ching taught Travis how to properly clean a weapon, turn on a radio, and read a map.
However, within days of deploying to Afghanistan, Travis had a change of heart.
“I went back to TRADOC,” Travis admitted. “I’m happy being surrounded by E-7 and E-8 slick sleeves. Granted, some soldiers have deployed and hate being here, but we’re a happy family regardless.”
In a moment of self reflection, Travis told the Duffel Blog he would leave the military three years shy of retirement.
“I honestly love the Army,” Travis said. “But not this Army. It makes no sense and quite frankly scares me. I was trained to fight a standing military using tactics and equipment from the 90′s. I don’t belong here. I really, really don’t.”
http://www.duffelblog.com/2013/01/former-tradoc-soldier-confused-scared-after-discovering-army-changed/#ixzz2MEb1oyhc
** From Private Benjamin.
FORT EUSTIS, VA – A former U.S. Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC) soldier was surprised to find the Army has evolved much in the last twelve years. After immediately requesting a transfer to TRADOC on September 12, 2001 and spending over a decade instructing in numerous Army schools, he decided it was time for much needed change.
“Something was missing from my life,” said Sergeant First Class Will Travis. “Even though I had the most important job in the military, training those who fight, I knew it was finally time to deploy overseas when I was passed over for promotion.”
SFC Travis was eager to reintegrate into the Army after being out for so long. He was assigned as the scout/sniper section platoon sergeant with HHC 1-160th Infantry Battalion.
“I knew I would immediately earn my soldiers respect due to my extensive teaching experience,” said SFC Travis. “The platoon even welcomed me with a heartfelt nickname — Sergeant Va-Jay-Jay. Whatever that means.”
The excitement soon wore off when Travis discovered everything he knew about the Army was wrong. Upon showing up to formation for his first field exercise wearing a LBE (load bearing equipment), woodland kevlar helmet, and wielding a M-16A2, Travis knew he had much to learn.
“The terminology and equipment was so foreign to me,” said Travis. “I was confused when told we were taking plate carriers to Afghanistan. Do they not have food trays in the dining facility over there?”
Luckily, SFC Travis found a mentor and only friend in his new platoon leader, 2nd Lieutenant Mark Ching.
The young officer, a 2011 Cal State Fullerton ROTC graduate, took pity on his platoon sergeant.
“You have to feel for the guy,” said 2LT Ching. “I know how difficult it is to be thrown into a leadership position with having no creditable military experience.”
The two quickly bonded during the long hours Lieutenant Ching taught Travis how to properly clean a weapon, turn on a radio, and read a map.
However, within days of deploying to Afghanistan, Travis had a change of heart.
“I went back to TRADOC,” Travis admitted. “I’m happy being surrounded by E-7 and E-8 slick sleeves. Granted, some soldiers have deployed and hate being here, but we’re a happy family regardless.”
In a moment of self reflection, Travis told the Duffel Blog he would leave the military three years shy of retirement.
“I honestly love the Army,” Travis said. “But not this Army. It makes no sense and quite frankly scares me. I was trained to fight a standing military using tactics and equipment from the 90′s. I don’t belong here. I really, really don’t.”
http://www.duffelblog.com/2013/01/former-tradoc-soldier-confused-scared-after-discovering-army-changed/#ixzz2MEb1oyhc
** From Private Benjamin.
Hudson, NY, alderman replies to gun control opponent
“Its [sic] really neat that all you gun toting tea party psychotards are so interested in the goings on of our little City,” Hudson Alderman David Marston wrote to Joanna Johnson-Smith — the New York state organizer of Gun Rights Across America — on February 22.
“On the other hand, I guess its [sic] not surprising, considering you ideologues aren’t interested in actual policy, but rather grandstanding on mythical narratives of victimization,” Marston continued.
Marston referred to advocates of adhering to the Constitution as “gun nuts,” “radical lunatics,” “barbarians,” and even “Eagle Scout God Worshiping Patriots,” possibly the worse insult a moonbat could imagine.
http://moonbattery.com/
(If I lived in Hudson, I would sell T-shirts: “Eagle Scout God Worshiping Patriot.”)
“On the other hand, I guess its [sic] not surprising, considering you ideologues aren’t interested in actual policy, but rather grandstanding on mythical narratives of victimization,” Marston continued.
Marston referred to advocates of adhering to the Constitution as “gun nuts,” “radical lunatics,” “barbarians,” and even “Eagle Scout God Worshiping Patriots,” possibly the worse insult a moonbat could imagine.
http://moonbattery.com/
(If I lived in Hudson, I would sell T-shirts: “Eagle Scout God Worshiping Patriot.”)
“My great-grandmother was sent to a camp and did not come out.'
K our exchange student said, “Priscilla said you have written a book?”
“I’ve written three,” I said. “They’re all in the computer.”
“You haven’t had them published?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know how.”
“You send a letter to publishers,” she said.
That part I know. “I guess I could shotgun letters to publishers.”
She said, “You shotgun a letter to publishers.”
She said she did not know anyone who had written a book. “Except for my grandfather’s older brother, and it was a small book.” She held her index finger and thumb half an inch apart.
Her great uncle’s book recounts the journey made by him and his six brothers and sisters during World War II. They walked across Poland and to the country where they and K’s family now live.
“My grandfather was 2 years old and 3 years old, so he does not remember much,” she said. “They had a big house and then many people were sent to live in the house and they had to leave.”
Her great-grandfather “was involved in the war,” she said, but she does not know where or in what capacity.
“My great-grandmother was sent to a camp and did not come out.”
There are many stories like K’s. Thousands, perhaps. Hearing one somewhat near firsthand gives importance.
Some people do not care about what happens. Others intend such things will never happen again.
“I’ve written three,” I said. “They’re all in the computer.”
“You haven’t had them published?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know how.”
“You send a letter to publishers,” she said.
That part I know. “I guess I could shotgun letters to publishers.”
She said, “You shotgun a letter to publishers.”
She said she did not know anyone who had written a book. “Except for my grandfather’s older brother, and it was a small book.” She held her index finger and thumb half an inch apart.
Her great uncle’s book recounts the journey made by him and his six brothers and sisters during World War II. They walked across Poland and to the country where they and K’s family now live.
“My grandfather was 2 years old and 3 years old, so he does not remember much,” she said. “They had a big house and then many people were sent to live in the house and they had to leave.”
Her great-grandfather “was involved in the war,” she said, but she does not know where or in what capacity.
“My great-grandmother was sent to a camp and did not come out.”
There are many stories like K’s. Thousands, perhaps. Hearing one somewhat near firsthand gives importance.
Some people do not care about what happens. Others intend such things will never happen again.
Rodman meets the other Lil' Kim
“SEOUL, South Korea — Ex-NBA star Dennis Rodman met North Korea’s Kim Jong Un on Thursday on the third day of his improbable journey to Pyongyang, telling the leader ‘You have a friend for life,’ a delegation spokesman said.
“The encounter makes Rodman the most high-profile American to meet with the young North Korean leader since Kim took power in December 2011 …” – Associated Press
http://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2013/feb/28/dennis-rodman-tours-north-koreas-monuments/
“The encounter makes Rodman the most high-profile American to meet with the young North Korean leader since Kim took power in December 2011 …” – Associated Press
http://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2013/feb/28/dennis-rodman-tours-north-koreas-monuments/
‘Man, it is so easy today to just not-give-a-damn-about-anything.’
Comment to: "If schoolteachers were overwhelmingly male and girls were suffering as a result..."
http://www.althouse.blogspot.com/2013/02/if-schoolteachers-were-overwhelmingly.html
And in the same neighborhood:
“It has been many months since and after an internship and a deferred paying job I didn't see a cent for, I'm back living with my folks. I'd go elsewhere for work, but I honestly can't afford it. I'd take the terrible, boring jobs so many of my contemporaries accept without complaint, but I'm so depressed over my state in life I can't seem to find the energy to care enough to survive. I have been so very lucky and blessed to have parents that support me both financially (though I wish so hard I could finally be totally independent) and emotionally. But my dad (very reasonably) said he won't continue to help after I turn 26. I know it's supposed to give me initiative to get my life together, but even with this date looming I just can't find the energy to care about self-preservation.”
‘Unemployment Stories, Vol. 28 …’
http://gawker.com/5986713/unemployment-stories-vol-28-im-inclined-to-simply-disappear-into-silence
Both stories linked from www.maggiesfarm.anotherdotcom.com
http://www.althouse.blogspot.com/2013/02/if-schoolteachers-were-overwhelmingly.html
And in the same neighborhood:
“It has been many months since and after an internship and a deferred paying job I didn't see a cent for, I'm back living with my folks. I'd go elsewhere for work, but I honestly can't afford it. I'd take the terrible, boring jobs so many of my contemporaries accept without complaint, but I'm so depressed over my state in life I can't seem to find the energy to care enough to survive. I have been so very lucky and blessed to have parents that support me both financially (though I wish so hard I could finally be totally independent) and emotionally. But my dad (very reasonably) said he won't continue to help after I turn 26. I know it's supposed to give me initiative to get my life together, but even with this date looming I just can't find the energy to care about self-preservation.”
‘Unemployment Stories, Vol. 28 …’
http://gawker.com/5986713/unemployment-stories-vol-28-im-inclined-to-simply-disappear-into-silence
Both stories linked from www.maggiesfarm.anotherdotcom.com
The beginning of the first day of Basic Combat Training
September 12, 1964. A company’s worth of Private E1s stood or sat and leaned against tall pine trees just outside the reception station at Fort Polk, La.
The afternoon was hot and humid, the combination of heat and humidity pushing the Wet Bulb Thermometer into the Danger area. Because of that temperature, every private wore his green fatigue trousers cuffs outside his combat boots. The privates looked like a bunch of civilians dressed like sloppy soldiers.
Talk among the privates was the same as the day before and the day before that. Drill sergeants would beat a soldier for the slightest infraction. Some of us would die from physical training or while in hand-to-hand combat training or from an accident on a rifle range. Privates who made those predictions had been told by an older brother or a cousin, who knew somebody who knew somebody … Rumor was 10 soldiers in one company died from meningitis a month ago.
There was talk, too, of sports and cars and girls back home, stories that would be inflated even more in the weeks ahead.
The Spec. 4 who had sort of marched the mob from the barracks to the trees called “At ease!” Talk stopped. The real soldier said, “You may now blouse your boots!”
Cheers erupted. Every private unlaced his boots and stuffed trouser cuffs inside his boots and relaced his boots. Everybody suddenly felt like a soldier.
Then the buses arrived, four, shiny green and with “U.S. ARMY” in yellow letters. The buses stopped. Doors opened, and from the first bus stepped a staff sergeant. His fatigues were ironed stiff, with sharp creases down each trouser leg and shirt arm. He wore a polished black helmet liner pulled down so his eyes barely showed. His combat boots held a mirror shine. He was the meanest looking man I had ever seen in my life, and perhaps the blackest.
My mind said, “Oh, lordy, what have I got myself into?”
The afternoon was hot and humid, the combination of heat and humidity pushing the Wet Bulb Thermometer into the Danger area. Because of that temperature, every private wore his green fatigue trousers cuffs outside his combat boots. The privates looked like a bunch of civilians dressed like sloppy soldiers.
Talk among the privates was the same as the day before and the day before that. Drill sergeants would beat a soldier for the slightest infraction. Some of us would die from physical training or while in hand-to-hand combat training or from an accident on a rifle range. Privates who made those predictions had been told by an older brother or a cousin, who knew somebody who knew somebody … Rumor was 10 soldiers in one company died from meningitis a month ago.
There was talk, too, of sports and cars and girls back home, stories that would be inflated even more in the weeks ahead.
The Spec. 4 who had sort of marched the mob from the barracks to the trees called “At ease!” Talk stopped. The real soldier said, “You may now blouse your boots!”
Cheers erupted. Every private unlaced his boots and stuffed trouser cuffs inside his boots and relaced his boots. Everybody suddenly felt like a soldier.
Then the buses arrived, four, shiny green and with “U.S. ARMY” in yellow letters. The buses stopped. Doors opened, and from the first bus stepped a staff sergeant. His fatigues were ironed stiff, with sharp creases down each trouser leg and shirt arm. He wore a polished black helmet liner pulled down so his eyes barely showed. His combat boots held a mirror shine. He was the meanest looking man I had ever seen in my life, and perhaps the blackest.
My mind said, “Oh, lordy, what have I got myself into?”
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