Barrack Obama during his first Presidential election campaign
Seven years ago a young fellow called Barrack Obama was running for President. One of the cornerstones of his campaign was a U.S. withdrawal from Iraq, which he called “a dumb war”.
In that much he was right. It was a dumb war, instigated by the dumb American and British politicians who preceded him and who had the deceit and arrogance to lie to their electorates in order to manufacture an excuse to invade that country.
It was always destined to be a disaster. Once Saddam had been eliminated there was no strong leader to hold Iraq together. He may have been a monster, no one is arguing he wasn’t, but without him, or someone like him, things have far from improved. That is just the harsh reality, like it or not.
Seven years ago Obama had no moral objection to the fact that a withdrawal of the occupying forces in Iraq might leave the way open to civil war and genocide. In fact to quote him from that period he said, “[If] that’s the criteria by which we are making decisions on the deployment of U.S. forces, then by that argument you would have 300,000 troops in the Congo right now — where millions have been slaughtered as a consequence of ethnic strife — which we haven’t done.”
He could have said the same about many other countries in the world where civil strife raged.
So today the speeches laden with moral indignation, telling the world that he has ordered military action in Iraq “to prevent a potential act of genocide,” ring mightily hollow.
It would be much better if Obama came clean.
I know it’s a bit of a reach for a politician to start telling the truth, but it would help.
Obama needs to tell the world that he will clean up the mess he and his predecessors made. He needs to admit that the “sovereign, stable and self-reliant Iraq” that he said he had left behind, when U.S. troops pulled out, was a dream that has deteriorated into a nightmare. And he needs to remove the advisors who prompted him to compare ISIS to a junior varsity basketball team when he was interviewed on the subject in January this year. That was just another thing they got completely and tragically wrong.
Yes, I’m asking for a bit of honesty and humility, that’s all.
What I’m hearing instead, however, is more claptrap and confusion.
Vice President Joe Biden is telling everyone that the U.S. “will follow ISIS to the gates of hell”, while other senior Obama Administration officials are assuring us that America is, “not launching a sustained US campaign against ISIS…”
Journalist James Foley minutes before he was beheaded by ISIS terrorists
Conflicting statements like those, in the face of the continuing barbaric beheadings of men, women and even children, and other heinous crimes committed by these despicable and godless terrorists, will hardly strike fear into them. Perhaps the strategy is to have them so helpless with laughter that they cannot continue fighting?
Winston Churchill once said, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing – after they’ve tried everything else.”
After all this time and after all these failed initiatives we must be getting closer to doing the right thing – surely???
My only excuse is the time it takes to compile these, which I haven’t managed to find for a few months, so if you missed them my apologies.
However, there is one today, so if you like this sort of thing I hope you enjoy.
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The Number 25
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In religion
In the Bible the number twenty-five is of cardinal importance in Ezekiel’s Temple Vision (Ezekiel 40-48).
Twenty-five is also seen near God’s throne in heaven. God’s throne, plus the thrones of the twenty-four elders, makes for 25 total. (Revelation 4:1-4)
Twenty-five pictures ‘grace upon grace.’ Redemption (20) plus grace (5) also equals 25. (John 1:14, 16-17)
Levites were to begin serving at age 25 in assisting with sacrifices — which were a physical type of forgiveness and redemption for the people.
Jehoshaphat, considered one of the best kings to rule the Kingdom of Judah, reigned for 25 years (872 – 848 B.C.).
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In Islam, there are twenty-five prophets mentioned in the Quran.
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In mathematics
25 is a square number, being 5² = 5 × 5.
25 is the smallest square that is also a sum of two squares: 25 = 3² + 4². Hence it often appears in demonstrations of the Pythagorean theorem.
25 percent is equal to 1/4.
Within base 10 one can readily test for divisibility by 25 by seeing if the last two digits of the number match 25, 50, 75 or 00.
In base 30, 25 is a 1-automorphic number (displayed as the numeral ‘P’ or ‘R’ dependant on the chosen digit set), and in base 10 a 2-automorphic number.
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In science and technology
Atomic Number of Manganese (Mn) = 25 (25 protons & 25 electrons)
It is part of the name of LSD-25 molecule
25 is the usual TCP port for SMTP.
25 is the per-second frame rate of the PAL video standard
And probably most significant of all, the internet or world wide web turned 25 this year!
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In space
Open Cluster M25 (also known as Messier Object 25 or IC 4725) is an open cluster in the constellation Sagittarius. It was discovered by Philippe Loys de Chéseaux in 1745 and included in Charles Messier’s list in 1764.
NGC 25 is a lenticular galaxy situated in the Phoenix constellation
The Sun rotates once in 25 days near the poles and about 30 days near its equator.
25 is the number of days approximately that takes the sun to do a complete rotation on itself.
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In politics
William McKinley (January 29, 1843 – September 14, 1901) was the 25th President of the United States, serving from March 4, 1897, until his assassination in September 1901, six months into his second term. McKinley led the nation to victory in the Spanish–American War, raised protective tariffs to promote American industry, and maintained the nation on the gold standard in a rejection of inflationary proposals. He was also the last President to have served during the Civil War.
The Twenty-fifth Amendment (Amendment XXV) to the United States Constitution deals with succession to the Presidency and establishes procedures both for filling a vacancy in the office of the Vice President, as well as responding to Presidential disabilities. It supersedes the ambiguous wording of Article II, Section 1, Clause 6 of the Constitution, which does not expressly state whether the Vice President becomes the President, as opposed to an Acting President, if the President dies, resigns, is removed from office or is otherwise unable to discharge the powers of the presidency. The Twenty-fifth Amendment was adopted on February 23, 1967.
25 is the minimum age of candidates for election to the United States House of Representatives.
25 is the (critical) number of Florida electoral votes for the 2000 U.S. presidential election
25 is the number of the French department Doubs
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In books, music, movies and TV
“25” is a song by Veruca Salt from their 1994 album American Thighs.
“25th Floor” is a song by Patti Smith Group from their 1978 album Easter.
Twenty Five is the name of a 2006 George Michael compilation celebrating 25 years in the music business (1981–2006).
“In the Year 2525 (Exordium et Terminus)” is a 1969 hit song by the American pop-rock duo of Zager and Evans. It reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100.
The 25th Hour is a MGM film (1967) with screen-play by Henri Verneuil based on C. Virgil Gheorghiu’s novel.
Not forgetting our old friend, “Buck Rogers in the 25th Century”
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In sport
Twenty-five is the value of the outer bullseye on a dart board.
Twenty-five is the size of the full roster on a Major League Baseball team for most of the season, except for regular-season games on or after September 1, when teams may expand their roster to no more than 40 players.
In baseball, the number 25 is typically reserved for the best slugger on the team. Examples include Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, and Mark Teixeira.
The number of points needed to win a set in volleyball under rally scoring rules (except for the fifth set), so long as the losing team’s score is two less than the winning team’s score (i.e., if the winning team scores 25 points, the losing team can have no more than 23 points).
In U.S. college football, schools that are members of NCAA Division I FBS are allowed to provide athletic scholarships to a maximum of 25 new football players (i.e., players who were not previously receiving scholarships) each season.
In the NBA the number 25 jersey has been retired by the Boston Celtics for K. C. Jones; by the Cleveland Cavaliers for Mark Price; by the Los Angeles Lakers for Gail Goodrich; and by the Washington Wizards for Gus Johnson (the team was then known as the Baltimore Bullets).
In the NHL the number 25 jersey has been retired by the Winnipeg Jets for Thomas Steen.
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In automotive and transportation
In the United States 25 is the designation of United States Interstate 25, a freeway that runs from New Mexico to Wyoming.
In Britain M25 is the designation of the London Orbital motorway.
And in Russia Municipal Okrug 25, until March, 2010, was the name of Knyazhevo Municipal Okrug in Kirovsky District of Saint Petersburg.
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The Carlsson C25 Supercar
Carlsson’s first supercar, the C25, made its debut at the 2010 Geneva Motor Show. With a limited run of 25 units, the C25 is powered by a twin-turbocharged V12 engine that generates 753 hp (562 kW) and 848 ft·lbf (1,150 N·m) of torque. Estimated acceleration from 0–100 km/h (62 mph) in 3.7 seconds and top speed is 219 mph. (355 km/h).
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Donkervoort Prototype J25
Under the code name J25, Donkervoort developed – right before its 25 year jubilee – a completely new car. This model went a step further in its styling than its predecessors the S8 and D8. The, for that period, very modern lines and a number of details, such the little doors and nose used, were derived from the D20. The J25 was also the first Donkervoort to be produced with 270 bhp.
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Infiniti G25
Infiniti debuted the G25 sedan at the 2010 Paris Auto Show. The G25 is powered by a 2.5 L V6 VQ25HR producing 218 hp (163 kW) and 187 lb·ft (254 N·m) of torque. The G25’s JDM relative, the Nissan Skyline 250 GT Sedan which features the same engine, had been on sale for several years already.
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BMW R25
The 1951 the 250cc R25 single was BMW’s first postwar single-cylinder motorcycle with a rear suspension.
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Yamaha R25
The Yamaha R25 is the first motorcycle by Yamaha in the 250cc segment. It is a 2-cylinder, liquid cooled motorcycle, using an advanced fuel injection system. It also has a tubular chassis with telescopic front suspension.
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C25 Standard RV
The C25 is a traditional motorhome with the self-contained features you expect, including most with a power generator in the USA.
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David Brown DB25 Tractor
David Brown developed the 25hp and 30hp engine, and so the DB25 and DB30 tractors came into existence, lasting from 1953-58. The petrol/TVO models were known as the David Brown 25C and 30C, while they called the diesel versions 25D and 30D. They are still collected and restored by enthusiasts today.
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J25 Steam Engine
The NER Class P1 (LNER Class J25) was a class of 0-6-0 steam locomotives of the North Eastern Railway in Great Britain. Class P1 was a development of Class P, having a boiler four inches longer, and a firebox six inches longer. To accommodate these, the wheelbase was increased by nine inches. The cylinder stroke was also increased by two inches.
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In militaria
B-25 Mitchell
Named in honor of General Billy Mitchell, a pioneer of U.S. military aviation, the B-25 Mitchell was an American twin-engined medium bomber manufactured by North American Aviation that saw service over four decades. By the end of its production, nearly 10,000 B-25s in numerous models had been built.
It was used by many Allied air forces, in every theater of World War II, as well as many other air forces after the war ended, including The Royal Air Force (RAF), Royal Canadian Air Force, Royal Australian Air Force, Dutch Air Force, Soviet Air Force, China Air Force, Brazilian Air Force, and by the Free French.
However, the incident for which the B-25 is perhaps best known is one that happened in America. At 9:40 on Saturday, 28 July 1945, a USAAF B-25D crashed in thick fog into the north side of the Empire State Building between the 79th and 80th floors.
Fourteen people died – eleven in the building and the three occupants of the aircraft including the pilot, Colonel William Smith.
Betty Lou Oliver, an elevator attendant, survived the impact and a subsequent uncontrolled descent in the elevator.
Partly as a result of this incident, Towers 1 and 2 of the World Trade Center were designed to withstand an aircraft impact. However, this design was based on an impact by a Boeing 707 aircraft in common use in the late 1960s and early 1970s, not the larger Boeing 767, two of which, (American Airlines Flight 11 and United Airlines Flight 175), struck the towers on September 11, 2001, resulting in their eventual collapse.
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Boeing VC-25
The Boeing VC-25 is the United States Air Force designation for a military version of the Boeing 747 airliner. The A-model (VC-25A) is the only variant of the VC-25.
The VC-25 is most famous for its role as Air Force One, the call sign of any U.S. Air Force aircraft carrying the President of the United States. The two aircraft currently in U.S. service are highly modified versions of Boeing’s 747-200B, with tail numbers 28000 and 29000.
Although the Air Force One designation technically applies to the aircraft only while the President is aboard, the term is commonly applied to the VC-25s more generally.
They often operate in conjunction with Marine One helicopters that ferry the President to airports in circumstances where a vehicle motorcade would be inappropriate.
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MIG-25
The Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-25 is a supersonic interceptor and reconnaissance aircraft that was among the fastest military aircraft to enter service.
It was designed by the Soviet Union’s Mikoyan-Gurevich bureau. The first prototype flew in 1964, and the aircraft entered into service in 1970.
It has a top speed of Mach 2.83 (as high as Mach 3.2, but at risk of significant damage to the engines), and features a powerful radar and four air-to-air missiles.
When first seen in reconnaissance photography, the large wing planform suggested an enormous and highly maneuverable fighter. This was during a period of time when U.S. design theories were also evolving towards higher maneuverability due to combat performance in the Vietnam War.
The capabilities of the MiG-25 were better understood in 1976 when Soviet pilot Viktor Belenko defected in a MiG-25 to the United States via Japan. It turned out that the weight of the aircraft necessitated large wings.
Production of the MiG-25 series ended in 1984 after completion of 1,190 aircraft. A symbol of the Cold War, the MiG-25 flew with Soviet allies and former Soviet republics, remaining in limited service in Russia and several other nations.
It is the second fastest and second highest-flying military aircraft ever fielded after the SR-71 reconnaissance aircraft.
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USS Terry (DD-25)
Launched on 21 August 1909 and commissioned on 18 October 1910, the USS Terry (DD-25) was a modified Paulding-class destroyer in the United States Navy during World War I, and later in the United States Coast Guard, designated CG-19. She was the first ship named for Edward Terry.
During WWI USS Terry patrolled along the Atlantic coast escorting merchantmen bound for Europe. In January 1918, Terry put to sea for operations with the destroyer force based at Queenstown, Ireland where she escorted convoys through the submarine-infested waters surrounding the British Isles.
In December 1918, Terry returned to the United States, and after 11 months of extremely limited service, she was decommissioned at Philadelphia Navy Yard on 13 November 1919.
She remained there until she was transferred to the Coast Guard on 7 June 1924. Based in New York, she served as part of the Rum Patrol, until 18 October 1930, when she was returned to the Navy and restored on the Navy list in a decommissioned status, listed as a “vessel to be disposed of by sale or salvage.” On 2 May 1934, Terry was sold for scrapping. Her name was struck from the Naval Vessel Register on 28 June 1934.
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USS Salt Lake City (CL/CA-25)
Launched on 23 January 1929 and commissioned on 11 December 1929, the USS Salt Lake City (CL/CA-25) was a Pensacola-class heavy cruiser sometimes known as “Swayback Maru” or “Old Swayback”. She had the (unofficial) distinction of having taken part in more engagements than any other ship in the fleet. She was also the first ship to be named after Salt Lake City, Utah.
From August–October 1942, Salt Lake City was in the south Pacific to support the campaign to seize and hold Guadalcanal. She escorted Wasp during the landings of 7–8 August and subsequent operations.
Surviving two atomic bomb blasts, she was decommissioned on 29 August and laid up to await ultimate disposal. She was sunk as a target hull on 25 May 1948, 130 mi (110 nmi; 210 km) off the coast of southern California
Salt Lake City received 11 battle stars for her World War II service, and a Navy Unit Commendation for her actions during the Aleutian Campaign.
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USS Potomac (AG-25)
The USS Potomac (AG-25), formerly USCGC Electra, was Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s presidential yacht from 1936 until his death in 1945.
On 3 August 1941, she played a decoy role while Roosevelt held a secret conference to develop the Atlantic Charter.
She is now preserved in Oakland, California, as a National Historic Landmark.
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USS Copeland (FFG-25)
The USS Copeland (FFG-25), the first ship of that name in the US Navy, was the seventeenth ship of the Oliver Hazard Perry-class of guided-missile frigates. She was named for Rear Admiral Robert W. Copeland (1910–1973).
Copeland was launched on 26 July 1980, and commissioned on 7 August 1982.
Decommissioned and stricken on 18 September 1996, she was transferred to Egypt the same day as Mubarak (F911). After the 2011 revolution the ship was renamed to remove the former ruler’s name. The ship is currenty named Alexandria (F911) and remains in active service with the Egyptian Navy.
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USS Bainbridge
The nuclear powered USS Bainbridge (DLGN-25/CGN-25) was initially classed as a guided missile destroyer leader in the United States Navy, and later re-designated as a guided missile cruiser in 1975.
In 1966–67, 1969, 1970, 1971 and 1972–73, USS Bainbridge was involved Vietnam War combat operations, as well as voyages to Australia, the Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea.
In 1982 she won the Marjorie Sterrett Battleship Fund Award.
After receiving her final nuclear refueling overhaul in 1983–85, Bainbridge operations included counter-drug smuggling patrols in the Caribbean, several deployments to northern European waters and four Mediterranean cruises including combat operations off Libya.
During 1994 she was deployed to support UN resolutions that became part of Operation Sharp Guard, enforcing sanctions against the Former Republic of Yugoslavia and Bosnia.
Finally deactivated in October 1995, Bainbridge was decommissioned in September 1996 and towed to Bremerton, Washington in mid-1997 where she was put in dry dock to begin “recycling,” the process by which nuclear-powered warships are scrapped.
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USS Somerset (LPD-25)
The USS Somerset (LPD-25), a San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock, is the fifth ship of the United States Navy of that name; in this case in honor of Somerset County, Pennsylvania.
The name honors the passengers of United Airlines Flight 93 whose actions prevented terrorist hijackers from reaching their intended target, forcing the airplane to crash in Stonycreek Township in Somerset County, PA, on September 11, 2001. In the words of Secretary of the Navy Gordon R. England, “The courage and heroism of the people aboard the flight will never be forgotten and USS Somerset will leave a legacy that will never be forgotten by those wishing to do harm to this country.”
Some 22 tons of steel from a crane that stood near Flight 93’s crash site have been used to construct Somerset’s stemhold.
She was launched on 14 April 2012, and was christened three months later, on 28 July.
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HMS Medway
HMS Medway was the first purpose-built submarine depot ship constructed for the Royal Navy. She was built by Vickers Armstrong at Barrow-in-Furness during the late 1920s. The ship served on the China Station before the Second World War and was transferred to Egypt in early 1940.
Ordered to evacuate Alexandria in the face of the German advance after the Battle of Gazala in May 1942, Medway sailed for Lebanon at the end of June, escorted by a light cruiser and seven destroyers.
Despite her strong escort, she was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine on 30 June.
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HMS Warwick (D-25)
HMS Warwick (D-25) was an Admiralty ‘W’ class destroyer built in 1917.
She saw service in both the First and Second World Wars, before being torpedoed and sunk in February 1944.
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T-25 Tank
The T25 Medium Tank was a prototype tank that was produced by the United States during World War II.
It had an armament consisting of a 90 mm anti-tank gun, two .30 MGs, one mounted coaxially and one in the bow, and a .50 Browning M2 mount on top of the turret. The vehicle had a crew of five, a weight of 35,100 kg, used the same 474 hp, GAN V8 engine as the earlier T23, and had a top speed of 48 km/h.
The T25 was developed with a variant which itself was virtually the same, the only difference was that the T25 was built with horizontal volute spring suspension, and the variant T25E1 had the torsion bar suspension later adopted for use in the M26. Only 40 T25 and T25E1 prototypes were built.
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M25 “Three Shot Bazooka”
Bazooka is the common name for a man-portable recoilless antitank rocket launcher weapon, widely fielded by the United States Army. Also referred to as the “Stovepipe”, the innovative bazooka was among the first-generation of rocket propelled anti-tank weapons used in infantry combat.
Featuring a solid rocket motor for propulsion, it allowed for high-explosive anti-tank (HEAT) warheads to be delivered against armored vehicles, machine gun nests, and fortified bunkers at ranges beyond that of a standard thrown grenade or mine. The Bazooka also fired a HESH round, effective against buildings and tank armour.
The universally-applied nickname arose from the M1 variant’s vague resemblance to the musical instrument called a “bazooka” invented and popularized by 1930s U.S. comedian Bob Burns.
The M25 “Three Shot Bazooka” was an experimental tripod mounted rocket launcher with overhead magazine circa 1955.
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Remington R-25
The Remington R-25 is a hi-tech hunting rifle that uses the direct-impingement gas system, where gas is ported down a tube into the action and the bolt carrier is cycled via the gas blowing the carrier off the tube.
The upper and lower receivers are made from aluminum forgings, and the handguard is turned aluminum, all impervious to the weather; climate changes will have no effect on accuracy or bedding.
Additionally, the R-25 has a Mossy Oak Treestand coating, so if you aren’t careful in the woods, you may spend some time hunting for the rifle you set down while doing something else.
The magazine holds four rounds, a prudent choice since the purpose of the R-25 is hunting.
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Glock 25
The Glock 25 in low-recoil .380 AUTO was introduced in 1995 in Germany. This small-dimension firearm was developed for markets where civilian personnel are not allowed to possess handguns featuring military calibers.
In the USA, the G25 .380 AUTO is reserved for law enforcement agencies only.
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Zastava P25
The Zastava P25, manufactured by Zastava Arms of Serbia and nicknamed the Dark Lady, is a blowback-operated, single-action, semi-automatic pocket pistol chambered in .25 ACP.
The pistol frame is made of aluminum alloy and the barrel is made of alloy steel, while the handgrips are usually made of walnut or polymer materials.
The P25 is aimed extensively at the civilian market as a self-defense weapon due to its concealability, but is somewhat less favorable compared to the M57, M88 and CZ 99 pistols due to its small caliber.
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A&K SR-25
The A&K SR-25 Full Metal AEG is very accurate and a good range for this type of weapon It is semi and full auto capable and has a 300rd High Capacity magazine and fast rate of fire
This airsoft sniper rifle is built like a tank, with a full metal upper and lower receiver and a full metal rail system. The A&K SR-25 performs better than almost all other SR-25 AEGs on the market, and includes more accessories than any other SR-25 AEG.
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K-25
K-25 is a former uranium enrichment facility of the Manhattan Project which used the gaseous diffusion method. The plant is located in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, on the southwestern end of the Oak Ridge Reservation.
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In other stuff
Illinois is the 25th largest state in America.
Nashville, Tennessee is the 25th largest city in the United States by size of population.
South Africa is the 25th largest Country in the world by area.
France is the 25th richest country in the world, based on Gross Domestic Product (PPP) Per Capita 2009-2013.
There are 25 cents in a quarter.
A ‘Pony’ is British slang for £25.
Christmas Day is December 25
25 is the number of years of marriage marked in a silver wedding anniversary.
25 is the name of the national card game of Ireland related to the classic Spanish game of ombre. It was played under the name maw by the British King James I and was later called spoil five from one of its principal objectives. From it derives the Canadian game of forty-fives.
Pachisi, which is Hindi for 25, is the name of the national board game of India.
“twentyfive”, is a design studio in the Czech Republic
25 is the total number of playable characters in Mario Kart Wii and Super Smash Bros. Melee.
“25 boy” (read as “two-five boy”), in Cantonese Chinese, is a slang term meaning “traitor” as used in the Chinese movie Over the Edge.
25 random things about me, an Internet meme utilizing Facebook’s Notes feature
25 is the usual minimum age for car rental in most countries.
“Under 25″ provides a common cut-off point for designating youth.
The year 25 BC was a leap year.
25 Burgers opened its first Location in Bound Brook NJI in the Spring of 2009, serving 25 Choices of Fresh Made to Order Gourmet Burgers in a Clean and Friendly Environment.
Another week has gone by and President Obama just keeps on digging the hole he has unnecessarily got himself into.
Secretary of State Kerry has found a bigger shovel to help. And even the US Ambassador to the UN has jumped into the hole too.
Almost everyone else is against him, even the pope.
America has never been good at foreign policy decisions, but this latest debacle over Syria has to be one of the worst – EVER!
There have been a lot of mistakes. It looks like there will be a lot more. Here are some of the main ones.
Mistake #1 – the worst of all – getting involved in something that is none of your business.
Mistake #2 – refusing to take wise advice or recognize the mood of your own people and the rest of the world. End result, you leave yourself isolated with your influence to help anyone in the future much diminished.
Mistake #3 – not learning from past mistakes of others. That just leads to repetition of previous debacles.
Mistake #4 – appointing other idiots to tour the world to make sure everyone knows how stupid you are.
Mistake #5 – failure to commit totally. At least when Dubya and his conies were intent on getting us bogged down in Iraq they had the wit to tell Saddam to prepare for “Shock and Awe”. Obama’s right hand man Kerry, on the other hand, has threatened the Syrian leadership with a military response that will be – wait for it – “… an unbelievably small, limited kind of effort.” Rather than intimidating Assad that kind of threat must have left him doubled up with laughter!
Mistake #6 – making yourself look like a real dumbass by trying to be a smartass and calling an opponent a jackass. It may or may not be true, but resorting to such tactics just because someone doesn’t agree with you, almost always backfires on you. It has in this case. Putin is coming out looking reasonable and sensible while Obama is making himself look more and more ridiculous.
There are plenty of other examples, but this lot will do for now.
It’s hard to correct mistakes at the best of times. But it is almost impossible to correct a mistake if you are so arrogant that you don’t realize you made one in the first place.
That’s what has happened to President Obama and that is why he just keeps on digging the hole he is in deeper and deeper and deeper.
One of my blog friends, Kenton over at the Jittery Goat, wrote a post recently as part of the daily prompt series about the first book/story he read that gave him an interest in reading and writing. His choice was a good one, “To Kill A Mockingbird”.
On a few occasions I have been asked the same thing and it is a very good question to put to anyone who is interested in either reading or writing or both.
When I was growing up the main influence as regards reading and writing was school. I’m sure that is the same for many of you. I was both fortunate and unfortunate here.
For a few years I had an excellent English teacher. Someone who was interested in the subject she taught, but someone who was equally interested in passing on her enthusiasm for reading and writing to her pupils. She was a great teacher and a great influence on her pupils. One could not but develop a taste for English literature, for exploring other writers and for writing too.
Now for the bad news.
As happens in schools, as you progress through the grades sometimes your teachers change. And unfortunately mine did.
I got lumbered with the most awful teacher there has probably ever been. Another woman, but this woman was one of those self-absorbed dullards who would probably have made any subject the most boring and tedious thing in the world.
She could take the most exciting story and just drain the life out of it. With poetry she did the very same, just killed it stone dead with her monotonous voice and her complete lack of feeling for the subject.
Watching the proverbial paint drying or concrete setting was real exciting stuff compared to this woman’s classes!
The result?
Sadly, for a few years she turned me, and I would guess almost all her pupils completely off both reading and writing. I will never forgive her for that.
However time passed and although I’m not sure how exactly it happened, I got the urge to start to read again. Perhaps to ease myself back into it I decided to start with some short stories rather than a long book or novel.
And what a great choice that turned out to be.
The first story I read in my new life as a reader once again was called “An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge”. It was a tale set during the American Civil War and was written by Ambrose Bierce, who himself was a veteran of that war, and a gentleman of whom you will hear a lot more in future fasab posts.
And so I have been reading and writing ever since, mostly for my own amusement and occasionally, as in this blog, also for the amusement of others.
I’d be interested to find out what you make of this story so I have reproduced it below. If you are unfamiliar with it, or want to refresh you memory if you have read it before, grab a cup of coffee and enjoy.
And when you are finished let me know what you make of it.
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AN OCCURRENCE AT OWL CREEK BRIDGE
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Ambrose Bierce
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A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man’s hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the ties supporting the rails of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners–two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain.
A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as “support,” that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest–a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.
Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost to view. Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. The other bank of the stream was open ground–a gentle slope topped with a stockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the bridge. Midway up the slope between the bridge and fort were the spectators–a single company of infantry in line, at “parade rest,” the butts of their rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock.
A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right. Excepting the group of four at the center of the bridge, not a man moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonily, motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge. The captain stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign. Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms of deference.
The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. His features were good—a straight nose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well fitting frock coat. He wore a moustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. The liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded.
The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and placed himself immediately behind that officer, who in turn moved apart one pace.
These movements left the condemned man and the sergeant standing on the two ends of the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian stood almost, but not quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held in place by the weight of the captain; it was now held by that of the sergeant. At a signal from the former the latter would step aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned man go down between two ties. The arrangement commended itself to his judgement as simple and effective. His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a moment at his “unsteadfast footing,” then let his gaze wander to the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his feet. A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move! What a sluggish stream!
He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece of drift–all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new disturbance. Striking through the thought of his dear ones was sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith’s hammer upon the anvil; it had the same ringing quality.
He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or near by– it seemed both. Its recurrence was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. He awaited each new stroke with impatience and–he knew not why–apprehension. The intervals of silence grew progressively longer; the delays became maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and sharpness. They hurt his ear like the trust of a knife; he feared he would shriek. What he heard was the ticking of his watch.
He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. “If I could free my hands,” he thought, “I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the invader’s farthest advance.”
As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed into the doomed man’s brain rather than evolved from it the captain nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
II
Peyton Farquhar was a well to do planter, of an old and highly respected Alabama family. Being a slave owner and like other slave owners a politician, he was naturally an original secessionist and ardently devoted to the Southern cause. Circumstances of an imperious nature, which it is unnecessary to relate here, had prevented him from taking service with that gallant army which had fought the disastrous campaigns ending with the fall of Corinth, and he chafed under the inglorious restraint, longing for the release of his energies, the larger life of the soldier, the opportunity for distinction. That opportunity, he felt, would come, as it comes to all in wartime.
Meanwhile he did what he could. No service was too humble for him to perform in the aid of the South, no adventure to perilous for him to undertake if consistent with the character of a civilian who was at heart a soldier, and who in good faith and without too much qualification assented to at least a part of the frankly villainous dictum that all is fair in love and war.
One evening while Farquhar and his wife were sitting on a rustic bench near the entrance to his grounds, a gray-clad soldier rode up to the gate and asked for a drink of water. Mrs. Farquhar was only too happy to serve him with her own white hands. While she was fetching the water her husband approached the dusty horseman and inquired eagerly for news from the front.
“The Yanks are repairing the railroads,” said the man, “and are getting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creek bridge, put it in order and built a stockade on the north bank. The commandant has issued an order, which is posted everywhere, declaring that any civilian caught interfering with the railroad, its bridges, tunnels, or trains will be summarily hanged. I saw the order.”
“How far is it to the Owl Creek bridge?” Farquhar asked.
“About thirty miles.”
“Is there no force on this side of the creek?”
“Only a picket post half a mile out, on the railroad, and a single sentinel at this end of the bridge.”
“Suppose a man–a civilian and student of hanging–should elude the picket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel,” said Farquhar, smiling, “what could he accomplish?”
The soldier reflected. “I was there a month ago,” he replied. “I observed that the flood of last winter had lodged a great quantity of driftwood against the wooden pier at this end of the bridge. It is now dry and would burn like tinder.”
The lady had now brought the water, which the soldier drank. He thanked her ceremoniously, bowed to her husband and rode away. An hour later, after nightfall, he repassed the plantation, going northward in the direction from which he had come. He was a Federal scout.
III
As Peyton Farquhar fell straight downward through the bridge he lost consciousness and was as one already dead. From this state he was awakened–ages later, it seemed to him–by the pain of a sharp pressure upon his throat, followed by a sense of suffocation. Keen, poignant agonies seemed to shoot from his neck downward through every fiber of his body and limbs. These pains appeared to flash along well defined lines of ramification and to beat with an inconceivably rapid periodicity.
They seemed like streams of pulsating fire heating him to an intolerable temperature. As to his head, he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fullness — of congestion. These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. The intellectual part of his nature was already effaced; he had power only to feel, and feeling was torment. He was conscious of motion. Encompassed in a luminous cloud, of which he was now merely the fiery heart, without material substance, he swung through unthinkable arcs of oscillation, like a vast pendulum. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. There was no additional strangulation; the noose about his neck was already suffocating him and kept the water from his lungs. To die of hanging at the bottom of a river! — the idea seemed to him ludicrous. He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a gleam of light, but how distant, how inaccessible!
He was still sinking, for the light became fainter and fainter until it was a mere glimmer. Then it began to grow and brighten, and he knew that he was rising toward the surface — knew it with reluctance, for he was now very comfortable. “To be hanged and drowned,” he thought, “that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair.”
He was not conscious of an effort, but a sharp pain in his wrist apprised him that he was trying to free his hands. He gave the struggle his attention, as an idler might observe the feat of a juggler, without interest in the outcome. What splendid effort! — what magnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah, that was a fine endeavor!
Bravo! The cord fell away; his arms parted and floated upward, the hands dimly seen on each side in the growing light. He watched them with a new interest as first one and then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust it fiercely aside, its undulations resembling those of a water snake. “Put it back, put it back!” He thought he shouted these words to his hands, for the undoing of the noose had been succeeded by the direst pang that he had yet experienced. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire, his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body was racked and wrenched with an insupportable anguish! But his disobedient hands gave no heed to the command. They beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by the sunlight; his chest expanded convulsively, and with a supreme and crowning agony his lungs engulfed a great draught of air, which instantly he expelled in a shriek!
He was now in full possession of his physical senses. They were, indeed, preternaturally keen and alert. Something in the awful disturbance of his organic system had so exalted and refined them that they made record of things never before perceived. He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as they struck.
He looked at the forest on the bank of the stream, saw the individual trees, the leaves and the veining of each leaf–he saw the very insects upon them: the locusts, the brilliant bodied flies, the gray spiders stretching their webs from twig to twig. He noted the prismatic colors in all the dewdrops upon a million blades of grass.
The humming of the gnats that danced above the eddies of the stream, the beating of the dragon flies’ wings, the strokes of the water spiders’ legs, like oars which had lifted their boat — all these made audible music. A fish slid along beneath his eyes and he heard the rush of its body parting the water.
He had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel slowly round, himself the pivotal point, and he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the captain, the sergeant, the two privates, his executioners. They were in silhouette against the blue sky. They shouted and gesticulated, pointing at him. The captain had drawn his pistol, but did not fire; the others were unarmed. Their movements were grotesque and horrible, their forms gigantic.
Suddenly he heard a sharp report and something struck the water smartly within a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray. He heard a second report, and saw one of the sentinels with his rifle at his shoulder, a light cloud of blue smoke rising from the muzzle. The man in the water saw the eye of the man on the bridge gazing into his own through the sights of the rifle. He observed that it was a gray eye and remembered having read that gray eyes were keenest, and that all famous marksmen had them. Nevertheless, this one had missed.
A counter-swirl had caught Farquhar and turned him half round; he was again looking at the forest on the bank opposite the fort. The sound of a clear, high voice in a monotonous singsong now rang out behind him and came across the water with a distinctness that pierced and subdued all other sounds, even the beating of the ripples in his ears.
Although no soldier, he had frequented camps enough to know the dread significance of that deliberate, drawling, aspirated chant; the lieutenant on shore was taking a part in the morning’s work. How coldly and pitilessly — with what an even, calm intonation, presaging, and enforcing tranquility in the men — with what accurately measured interval fell those cruel words:
Farquhar dived — dived as deeply as he could. The water roared in his ears like the voice of Niagara, yet he heard the dull thunder of the volley and, rising again toward the surface, met shining bits of metal, singularly flattened, oscillating slowly downward. Some of them touched him on the face and hands, then fell away, continuing their descent. One lodged between his collar and neck; it was uncomfortably warm and he snatched it out.
As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he had been a long time under water; he was perceptibly farther downstream — nearer to safety. The soldiers had almost finished reloading; the metal ramrods flashed all at once in the sunshine as they were drawn from the barrels, turned in the air, and thrust into their sockets. The two sentinels fired again, independently and ineffectually.
The hunted man saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming vigorously with the current. His brain was as energetic as his arms and legs; he thought with the rapidity of lightning:
“The officer,” he reasoned, “will not make that martinet’s error a second time. It is as easy to dodge a volley as a single shot. He has probably already given the command to fire at will. God help me, I cannot dodge them all!”
An appalling splash within two yards of him was followed by a loud, rushing sound, DIMINUENDO, which seemed to travel back through the air to the fort and died in an explosion which stirred the very river to its deeps! A rising sheet of water curved over him, fell down upon him, blinded him, strangled him! The cannon had taken an hand in the game. As he shook his head free from the commotion of the smitten water he heard the deflected shot humming through the air ahead, and in an instant it was cracking and smashing the branches in the forest beyond.
“They will not do that again,” he thought; “the next time they will use a charge of grape. I must keep my eye upon the gun; the smoke will apprise me–the report arrives too late; it lags behind the missile. That is a good gun.”
Suddenly he felt himself whirled round and round — spinning like a top. The water, the banks, the forests, the now distant bridge, fort and men, all were commingled and blurred. Objects were represented by their colors only; circular horizontal streaks of color — that was all he saw. He had been caught in a vortex and was being whirled on with a velocity of advance and gyration that made him giddy and sick. In few moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of the stream — the southern bank — and behind a projecting point which concealed him from his enemies. The sudden arrest of his motion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him, and he wept with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw it over himself in handfuls and audibly blessed it. It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble. The trees upon the bank were giant garden plants; he noted a definite order in their arrangement, inhaled the fragrance of their blooms. A strange roseate light shone through the spaces among their trunks and the wind made in their branches the music of Aeolian harps. He had not wish to perfect his escape — he was content to remain in that enchanting spot until retaken.
A whiz and a rattle of grapeshot among the branches high above his head roused him from his dream. The baffled cannoneer had fired him a random farewell. He sprang to his feet, rushed up the sloping bank, and plunged into the forest.
All that day he traveled, laying his course by the rounding sun. The forest seemed interminable; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a woodman’s road. He had not known that he lived in so wild a region. There was something uncanny in the revelation.
By nightfall he was fatigued, footsore, famished. The thought of his wife and children urged him on. At last he found a road which led him in what he knew to be the right direction. It was as wide and straight as a city street, yet it seemed untraveled. No fields bordered it, no dwelling anywhere. Not so much as the barking of a dog suggested human habitation. The black bodies of the trees formed a straight wall on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point, like a diagram in a lesson in perspective. Overhead, as he looked up through this rift in the wood, shone great golden stars looking unfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure they were arranged in some order which had a secret and malign significance. The wood on either side was full of singular noises, among which — once, twice, and again–he distinctly heard whispers in an unknown tongue.
His neck was in pain and lifting his hand to it found it horribly swollen. He knew that it had a circle of black where the rope had bruised it. His eyes felt congested; he could no longer close them.
His tongue was swollen with thirst; he relieved its fever by thrusting it forward from between his teeth into the cold air. How softly the turf had carpeted the untraveled avenue — he could no longer feel the roadway beneath his feet!
Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene — perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have traveled the entire night. As he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the veranda to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forwards with extended arms. As he is about to clasp her he feels a stunning blow upon the back of the neck; a blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of a cannon — then all is darkness and silence!
Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.
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If you prefer to listen while you do something else, here is an audio version of the story:
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An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce, narrated by Robert Englund, part one of four
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An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce, narrated by Robert Englund, part two of four
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An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce, narrated by Robert Englund, part three of four
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An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce, narrated by Robert Englund, part four of four
Well, as I am sure you (particularly the folks in the good old US of A) are well aware, today is the last Monday in May, otherwise known as Memorial Day and the official start of summer. I hope you have been and are enjoying a long leisurely holiday weekend.
There are lots of blogs doing pieces on Memorial Day, so I’ll try to make this one slightly different.
Memorial Day was originally known as Decoration Day and was established after the American Civil War to commemorate the fallen Union soldiers.
Slight rant for a moment. I get irritated when I hear idiots talking about the US Civil War. The Civil War in America was fought between Union forces (made up of Americans) and Confederate forces (made up of Americans). This isn’t going to turn into a history lesson as to the why’s and the wherefore’s, but the point is that at the time of the civil war the States of America were anything but “united”. Use the term “American” please. End rant.
The chances are that you may already have seen Ken Burn’s fantastic documentary series called Civil War. When it first aired on PBS something like 40 million Americans tuned in and it has been distributed and shown on the BBC in the UK and in many other parts of the world since. If you haven’t watched it yet, I highly recommend that you do so. It is a gem of historical information, photography, narration, music – the whole thing is just wonderful.
Ken Burns Fabulous Civil War Series
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I have always been fascinated by the Civil War. I have visited numerous battle sites and know some people who have little museums and take part in re-enactments and so forth. Because it was fought in the mid 1800s and featured such well known historical figures as Abraham Lincoln and Robert E Lee the impression I had (for no logical reason, as sometimes happens) was that it was an event that happened a very long time ago. Then I discovered that the last Union veteran of the Civil War, Albert Woolson only died in 1956, not quite within my lifetime, but close enough to make me realize that this was not so long ago at all.
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So could it happen again?
In America I very much doubt it.
Civil Wars are part of the teething pains that most countries go through. They have happened in England, France, Spain, Portugal, China, Russia, Cuba, Korea, Vietnam, Mexico, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, and on and on; and they seem to be a constant phenomenon in one part of Africa or another.
There will probably be periods of increasing civil unrest in the US as the government ham fistedly tries to get itself out of the mess that it has caused by trying to steal more money from the ordinary people, but that’s a different thing. So I wouldn’t worry about it too much yet.
As for Memorial Day nowadays, it encompasses all Wars that American forces have been involved in, and it is a convenient marker to remind us of those who have willingly put their lives in harm’s way to protect us. The political decisions that lead to wars are not the fault of those sent to fight.
This weekend I have been remembering some of my friends who are no longer here. They are in a better place for sure, but they got there far, far too soon.
fasab 