I worked through lunch today. I was willing because I knew we had a 1630 formation, which was surely going to be the end of the workday, so I could go home and get dinner.

But after the formation, someone had to stay late. Rank Hath It's Privileges, but in the the Corps, the senior guy also gets to take the biggest bite of any given sh*t sandwich. So I stayed.

Starving, I called the Subway on Camp Foster and ordered a foot-long sub to be delivered. It seems Subway is having some kind of sale, so it was cheaper than normal... which was a problem, because there's a $10 minimum for delivery. So I told them to just add chocolate chip cookies until the total was $10. I got one of the strange Japanese polite giggles that Japanese women do.

Anyway, food arrived. And damn, it took a lot of cookies to make it to the magical $10 level. Now I've got snacks for all weekend.

Posted by: Boviate at 05:06 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I have a problem. In what should be the last package I receive on-island, I got a copy of Steven Brust's latest novel, which I've been eagerly awaiting. But: I've got a long plane ride in my near future. Should I read the book now, or wait a couple of weeks and entertain myself on the flight with it?

UPDATE: No patience here. I read it.

Posted by: Boviate at 06:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Being as how I'm almost out, I'm relaxing a bit. For instance, this afternoon they really didn't need me at work. I decided it would be unprofessional to sit in the corner and read a book, so I took off for Camp Foster and did some grocery shopping in the Commisary.

So there I am, it's 1600, and I'm supposed to be at work for another hour. I've got a cart full of groceries, and I'm waiting for the deli counter to get to my order. There were a bunch of people in line in front of me, so I'm reading an excellent book to kill time.

"Hello there, Sergeant Boviate. Are you shopping or reading?"

I know that voice.

"Just waiting on my order, Sergeant Major. How are you this afternoon?"

"Fine, fine. Take care now."

"Thank you Sergeant Major, and same to you."

I was rather happy at that conversation, as it very quickly could have degenerated into an unpleasant discussion about appointed places of duty. But either SgtMaj didn't care, or she wasn't supposed to be off work either. Who knows.

Posted by: Boviate at 06:32 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Holy shit, it's an earthquake!

UPDATE: That was a pretty good one. If memory serves, I've been at home for two others that were intense enough to be felt; but this was the strongest. The building moved noticibly, and several books fell off my carrel.

UPDATE: According to Scientific American, the quake was magnitude 6.0 and the epicenter was about 100 miles away from me.

Posted by: Boviate at 02:44 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I've hear it said that one should speak no ill of the dead. I don't particularly agree, as if anything, they are past being unjured by unkind words. Certainly their families may be hurt, but I dislike the American journalistic tradition of whitewashing politicians with positive obituaries.

It happen with Nixon, who was memorialized as a great statesman, as opposed to a crook and the betrayer of his high office.

And now it's happening to Jesse Helms, whose legacy was that he was the last outward racist in the US Congress. (At least I hope that he will keep that record of infamy in perpetuity.) I refer you to this editorial for my thoughts on his career as a statesman.

In summary, for Senator Helms' sake, we should hope that the God who judges all things, prefers mercy over justice.

Posted by: Boviate at 03:35 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Over the long weekend, LCpl Tron got a little tipsy and wrestled with Cpl M. Now, M is what we in the Corps call a "corn-fed MFer"; he's about six-one, two hundred pounds of muscle. Tron is five-five, wiry, and while he's strong for his size, he weighs in at 105. Good thing it was a friendly match.

Until Tron picked up M and tried to toss him, and his back gave out during the tossing. He went to medical, they gave him a bunch of pills, and put him Sick In Quarters until today, with instructions to come back for a followup midmorning today.

He was off SIQ, so he showed up at work, and I heard about his misadventure. "All right," I think to myself, "He doesn't have a light duty chit yet, but they'll surely give him one when he goes to his 1000 appointment. So I'll set him a task that's not physically stressful."

We have a new helmet that needs built up, so I set him to that. He went to the head, took his pills, and started taping the helmet shell. The rest of us went outside and started doing some aircraft maintenance, that involved climbing up helicopters, lifting troop seats, and so forth, things he clearly wasn't in a shape to do.

I was out there sweating with my guys when I got an urgent summons that I was to see the Maintenance Chief immediatly. I hadn't done anything wrong recently, but he's my boss's boss, tied for the highest-ranking enlisted in the squadron, so I dropped what I was doing and hustled to his office.

When I got there, he said "What the hell's up with your boy Tron?"

"Well, Master Guns, he's a bit broke, so I've got him working in the shop until his appointment. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I just talked with him out in the hanger. He thinks he's fine to work. He's wrong. Get him back to the barracks."

"Umm... sure thing, Master Guns! I'll run him home now."

So I went to the shop to get Tron, and discovered that his drugs had kicked in. The docs had given him Percaset and Valium, and he was as high as a kite. Couldn't stand up straight, had a goofy smile on his face, it was grim. He tried to argue with me about being able to work and feeling fine... yeah, it was very clear that he was feeling fine! So I told him it was an order, and took him home for the day. We called and rescheduled his appointment, leaving a suggestion that perhaps a person of his slight body weight might need smaller dosages.

Posted by: Boviate at 11:14 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We're getting a four-day weekend for Independance Day. I'd like to comment that this is the first four-day liberty we've had in over two years. And that includes Christmases.

The party is in full swing at the patio behind our barracks, because the squadron's lieutenants paid the ransom for the Thunder Mug, which is the junior officers' trophy/mascot. The traditional ransom is a large pile of pizza and a stack of kegs, incidentally.

Posted by: Boviate at 06:55 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I was just reading that General Motors's stock price has hit its lowest level since 1954. I blame excessive corporate focus on huge SUVs to the neglect of small cars, and the belief that oil would be cheap forever.

(Inspired by an article at the Economist.)

Posted by: Boviate at 05:53 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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An engineer's guide to cats.

Posted by: Boviate at 08:12 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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While I was bored near Burma, my car's American and Japanese insurance both expired, as did it's annual taxes. I don't plan on being here much longer, so I wished it to become someone else's problem.

At the moment, it's in a Japanese garage. The estimate I'd received from an American place was over $600 to get it road-worthy again; the Japanese place did it for 57,176Â¥, which is $543 at today's exchange rate. I guess that's not terrible, but it is a lot of money to sink into an ancient rusting car.

I'm not paying it, though. I sold the car for $0 and a drink of awamori to a friend of mine. Tomorrow we'll go back and pick it up from the shop, then go to base vehicle registration and do the paperwork transfer.

I miss having wheels, and that car was faithful and reliable. But it's time to move on.

Posted by: Boviate at 07:09 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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