HOW DO YOU KNOW A WAR IS OVER?
Probably the same way I do: Michael Yon sends a dispatch to your email box.
Personally, my optimism has never been higher for Iraq.
Probably the same way I do: Michael Yon sends a dispatch to your email box.
I'm listening to Senator Obama for the first time, live. No snippets, no interpretation.
Waiting for Godot McCain, I stumble across this on INDYMAC, via wikipedia:
Nine U.S. Soldiers were killed in battle; enemy losses are approximately 200 (unclear at this time). The historic ratio, at least since Somalia, has been 1 US Soldier dead for every 10 enemy killed. I don't now why, but that has been my general observation. So, reading the New York Times, what happened?
At the lightly fortified observation post nearby, American soldiers came under heavy fire from militants streaming through farmland under cover of darkness. Most of the American casualties took place there, a senior American military official said.
I was perhaps a little to harsh, criticizing Obamagirl in the post below. It's obvious she's a smart, driven individual with a phenomenal set of ideas about campaigning. Besides, in finding things to like about Amber Lee, I won't come off like this curmudgeon:
It shapes the narrative in odd ways. Senator Obama's Icon-fu is pretty powerful; I have not seen something like it in quite awhile:
Lee predicted Obama would be elected in November.
"When that happens, it will change everything. ... You'll have to measure time by `Before Obama' and `After Obama,'" Lee said during the panel. "It's an exciting time to be alive now."
1. Cool (tongue in cheek) history of the Stickman at the Uncyclopedia:
Venice looms large in my mind (along with paper, pens, erotic arts and electronics...go figure) and the popular imagination.
(updated to remove photo at owner's request)
Interesting fact:
Persia, busted shaping the narrative. Danger Room rounds up the responses. My fav:
The State Department blimp hovered over the Arctic wasteland.
That’s not right; in school we learned there are no true frontiers. Every scrap of earth has some purpose. Frontiers were what you got before boundaries; boundaries were what you got when people moved in and started setting up markers.
So, the State Department blimp hovered over the Arctic frontier.
And it was definitely a frontier. The Moscow Machine was up here and so was Union. Of course, we had a piece or State Department wouldn’t have sent my team into here.
Oil. The last great rush of the mid twenty-first century was on and folks were moving into the Arctic in record numbers.
I started adding some, well, what do you call them, Title Pictures, to some of my stories.
I did.
Exhausting week; apologies for being wordy.
“I’ve seen wonders, Van.” said Barry, simply. “I never thought, growing up, I’d be doing this.”
Van was leaning forward in is chair, both hands holding his phone steady, so he could see Barry and his wife, Brenda, in the full screen. Barry was facing the wall phone while Brenda worked an improbable looking control panel. Van was alone in the downstairs living room; his wife, Marla, was upstairs sleeping. Outside, the river rolled gently past their cabin. The Cascade Mountains framed the scene.
“You should come,” Barry added.
‘You’ was such an imprecise word, Van thought to himself. ‘You’ could be plural or singular. We or I. Van was very concerned about the preciseness of text; text was his job.
“She’s dying, Barry.” Van said, finally.
Damninteresting sucks me in with another great hook:
Just early. The Old Grey Lady takes up where the essayist Mark Steyn left off, looking at Europe's demographic issues*:
My wife and I are moving towards our first house purchase. The choice, no matter where we look, is an older house or a newer "postage stamp" house. We both lean towards older houses; for me, it's a function of growing up in the northeast. A house like this would be perfect; we could fill it with a platoon's worth of kids*:
I get the sneaky suspicion that Margaret Sanger would not approve of me hooking my decrepit, subhuman, wagon to my wife's sleek, aryan stallion. But my wife and I do; frequently and vigorously.
Sanger was not uncommon.
Flash fiction friday story up; feel free to view the rest here. The "Blue Eagle" takes a look at another one of my loves: history. I love "what would happen if" stories.
The Blue Eagle
Lenny shuffled into the dining hall. He was about the last of the three hundred men—it was all men—that could get into the place. The dining hall served Lenny’s Work Regiment, but like everything else, was open to all comers.
Lenny took his seat where he usually did; towards the back, near the door and about as far away from the bright stage and the inevitable appearance of the Four Minute Man of the moment. The stage was simply set, as always; a bushel of fresh corn, apples, oranges, a slab of beef and several bottles of milk formed the static display. Fruit of the land, but Lenny always thought it was a waste, putting that stuff up there. Ought to go in a man’s belly, he figured.
Or more appropriately, Nader's 'soft racism of low expectations':
Yesterday the Supreme Court (US Branch) ruled that the execution of people who rape children was unconstitutional.
...or let the google god make it up. Valleywag (yes, Valleywag) on Chris Anderson's new book:
One of my terminal goals is to take my wife on safari to Africa. In the interim, I could do with something like this for the back yard:
XPRIZE Division. I say, bring it on:
"The reason you haven't heard too much about it in the news is that things are going pretty well."
It is settled; my wife approved my purchase of the iPhone (a few months from now). Amazing little device, useful for productivity:
Strangemaps looks at China: Airstrip III and some of the complexities the Chinese face from terrain. I wrote in response to one of my professors questions that the main threat to China was it being broken up and sold for spare parts on the nationalist market. I'm not sure how he took that.

Its size and its penchand for autarkism dictate China’s three main geopolitical objectives:
"So clean, you'll never now you've been occupied".
Nice piece on the ma deuce and it's replacement.
Yeah, bad title. But cool news: ice on Mars, the nearest thing Earth has to a backup hard drive.
Now for something a bit different (and longer; breaks my 2,000 word limit by inches). The story takes place not long from now, and kind of sets the stage for the other stories I've been writing. I'm not arrogant enough to call it Wodehousian, but that's what I was aiming: please enjoy, even if I fall far short of the mark.
The Mayor of Energia City sat at his desk in the Penthouse Office/Apartment complex on the top of Machine Towers, home of the Energia City Hall. His body man, and constant companion, Reginald, was at his side.
Charles Stross has a fascinating read on some near edge technologies.
Muqtada al Sadr, after defeating the combined armadas of the Americans, Iraqis and Great Kahn in a do or die battle over the planet Zebulon IV, got his as@ unceremoniously stomped back here in reality (specifically Basra and Sadr City).