TC the Terrible

Gone and back again.  Wasn’t that the working title for Bilbo’s book?  And if it was/wasn’t, does anybody still care?

Another year is in the books.  Not that it really matters because like the man said there’s no rest for the wicked.  Or the Terrible for that matter.  Some of us are fated to tumble from crisis to crisis and only slow down long enough to have our first “cardiac episode”.  Not that I’ve slowed down for that one yet and don’t plan to, but when’s the last time anyone actually planned for that one?  Hell, I’m just glad that I’ve stayed a step or two ahead of it.

I can’t fall into the school of thought that says 2011 is a blank slate.  You drag your psychological Samsonite behind us wherever you go. Can’t just pull a Don Draper and walk away from who you are and become a different person.  And even if you could, would you really want to?  Hell no.  I don’t know about you, but I put an shit ton of work into becoming me.  I’m not about to toss all that effort out the window like it was wasted.  It wasn’t.

Basically I’m stepping up.  Not stepping aside.

Part II tomorrow.  Promise.

Time for a long form Christmas rant?  Nah, not this year.  This year is a big time improvement over the past Christmas season.  Last year I was getting ready to walk out the door and into Iraq.  And don’t let the main stream media’s coverage fool you.  Iraq is still one dangerous place to be. So yeah, this is going to be a better Christmas.

The family’s coming to town en masse and we’ve got a grandkid for the first time.  Sounds like a perfect time to get drunk and be somebody.  Family drama isn’t my forte’ so there’d better not be any.  Unless you’re one of those positively happy people that believe family drama is an expression of family love.  For the record, if drama is indeed a measure of love then I’m worshiped like a Greek god.

Not sure how much sex and booze it’s going to take to get through all this family “love”.  But I’ll try to remember to blog about that when all is said and done.

I had a pretty good rant building today on all the pussies posing as men that I’ve ran into the past couple of days.  The number of which continues to amaze me seeing that I live in the once undisputed center of gravity for the rest of the free world.  But then I got my azimuth adjusted.  Hard.

During my half hour lunch hour I was in standing in line at the food court waiting on my Jared’s sub sandwich, behind government employed dweebs.  The kind of guys that are working for Uncle Sam because it’s the only job they can hang on to.  So naturally I’m getting madder by the minute.   My sandwich is ready so I get it and head out to grab a seat out in the courtyard.

Sitting in the doorway was a Soldier in a wheel chair.  This kid isn’t a day past 23.  Hell, he doesn’t look like he’s ever shaved.  Not that he’ll be able to himself anytime soon.  The kid is missing both legs above the knees and both arms just below the elbows.  And the fucker is wearing an Army Ten-Miler t-shirt.  This year’s shirt.

He’s looking at me looking at him, and trying not to stare at his missing limbs, so I said a simple “hello”.  He started talking a mile a minute.  Did I work here all the time?  Ain’t it cool to get to come to the Pentagon every day?  Was I in Iraq or Afghanistan?  Where was I from?  Tennessee – man they’ve got good hunting there.  He’s from Georgia.  He used to hunt all the time.  Can’t wait to get his happy ass back in the deer stand.  He was in Afghanistan, but that was a couple of years ago.  He’s out at Walter Reed now.  A buddy pushed him in the Ten-Miler.

His buddy showed up with his lunch and the two of them headed to courtyard to eat lunch.  I took up a seat a few dozen feet away from them.  His buddy fed this kid lunch and wiped his mouth for him.  Note that I didn’t say he had to feed him and wipe his mouth.  The buddy did it because he wanted to feed his friend.

How the fuck can I be so angry at traffic, the bills, my kids or anything else in the world when I’ve got it so easy?  This kid is going to need constant care for the rest of his life.  He won’t ever be able to do anything that I take for granted.  And he’s the happiest mother fucker I’ve seen in months.  He ran the Ten-Miler, he’s got a good friend and he’s looking forward to tomorrow.  And I bitch about I-66 being backed up.

Consider my azimuth reset.