Simple marinara

1 Tbsp olive oil
1 small onion (or 1/3 c dried minced or chopped onion, reconstituted)
1 tsp minced garlic (or 2 garlic cloves)
1 can tomato paste*
1 can diced tomatoes
mushrooms (dehydrated or fresh--canned ones are slimy)
1/2 green bell pepper, chopped
1 sm. can sliced black olives (optional)
1 tsp Italian seasoning blend
1/4 tsp cumin

1. In a small saucepan, heat olive oil to the point that when you drop the onion in, it sizzles, then cook the onions until they're nearly clear, stirring constantly. 2. Add garlic to pan, shaking to spread out evenly, turn burner down to medium heat, cook for a couple minutes while you open cans. 3. Add tomato paste and diced tomatoes, mix well. 4. Add mushrooms, peppers, and seasoning, and turn the burner down to medium low.

On another burner, take a medium-large pot, fill with water, bring to a boil and cook your pasta. (You can do this at the same time as you're making your sauce--or you can start the pasta first) When your pasta is done, drain it, and put it back in the pot. Then, take your sauce and mix into pasta.

I like this because it takes about fifteen minutes to cook, and is good on a variety of pastas, and it's just as easy to brown a bit of hamburger meat or Italian sausage in with the onions for a meat sauce. My kids (both of them) like it over the dry tortellini or mini raviolis you can get at Wal-Mart. Look for the bag that says it has 4-6 servings.

*Open both ends of the tomato paste can, discard one of the ends, then use the other to push the paste out of the can. Tomato paste is thick enough that if you don't do this, you'll have to dirty another utensil getting it scraped out of the can.

We have to help people avoid foreclosures! How can we do that?!

I have a good idea on that: require 20% down payments, in cash, a good job, very little other debt (including NO student or IRS debt), and limit them to a mortgage with a payment that is no more than a quarter of their family's net income.

I doubt that's what Dear Leader meant when he told JPMorgan to do more to help people avoid foreclosures.

Hey, Obamorons--you cannot tell a mortgage lender to make any size loan to anyone that asks AND expect the foreclosure rate to stay low. That doesn't work in the real world. It doesn't even work in the rock candy mountain with cotton candy cloud dream world that most academics inhabit (though they'd never admit it).

H. Sapiens v. human beings

Yesterday, Odysseus wrote a post about those in authority turning humans into animals. As I’ve written before, there is a large element of that—as the government makes poverty comfortable, they create a semi-permanent underclass which is difficult but not impossible to escape. Schools are part of that process, as An Ordinary American writes: “Let's face it: Our public schools suck.”

However, he goes into another element of how human beings get turned into animals: “[Public schools] suck because the administrators suck, most of the teachers suck and almost all of the parents who rely on the public school system to raise their children suck.”* He only touches on it briefly, and then goes on into the incident that brought him to write about this realization.

He’s right: parents, in general, suck. I think a good part of it is that since both parents in most families work, they don’t want to put up with the difficult task of disciplining their children for bad behavior. They want to come home to a household without the stress of responsibility.

And being a parent is a huge responsibility. As parents, we are supposed to encourage our children’s curiosity, to help them learn about the world. It’s our job to teach them how to separate wants and needs, and how to delay gratification of their wants so that they can make sure needs are seen to first. It’s our task to teach them the rules of civilization and society, and to help them find their place in it. Our duty to teach them responsibility and reliability. And our blessing to watch them grow into adults that can take care of themselves, and someday carry the cycle on and raise their own families.

Unfortunately, many are falling down on those responsibilities. Parents are no longer raising their children to be civilized beings. It’s sheer laziness on their part, and it’s failing their children, but there it is.

I am a proud mother to two wonderful children: a three year old son, and a newly-turned one year old daughter. Both of them are very well behaved for their age—we’re always complimented on that, and to see the proof, all we have to do is go out in public and watch other parents with their children.

Almost without exception, what we see proves that, as a nation we’re fucked: no one is raising their children to be anything but self-indulgent animals.

And that, my friends, is what is permitting the government to step in. The overgrown children that form the progressive movement still need a minder, and assume that everyone needs the same overseers that they do.

Humans don’t need a minder controlling their actions. Animals do. And H. sapiens is well on his way to becoming just another animal.

*emphasis is mine

For easier use

I've been posting recipes for a while, under the tag of Mother's Little Helper. I've added a page with links to the recipes (look up top), so if any of you want a specific one, you don't have to go through the entire tag's worth to find it.

Happy birthday to my pretty little pixie.

From the first hour of her life, she's been a snuggle-bug. She loves to cuddle, and loves to play with people. She leads us over to unhappy, depressed, and lonely elderly people in public so that she can visit with them (climbs right up into laps, she does) and try to brighten their day.

I've never seen her fail to cheer someone up.

She's so very sweet tempered--she rarely fusses unless there's something wrong. She's always happy and smiling, especially when she's wearing pretty clothes and shoes.

She is such a girl...she's happiest wearing dresses, and her favorite toys are baby dolls. A close second are stuffed animals.

None of the pictures we took yesterday turned out very good--we're getting used to a new camera. Sorry about that. Here are a couple of her dressed up for Thanksgiving.

Can you tell she's teething?

Anticipating the flash, here.

She puts up a fight every time we take one of her dresses off her to get her into jammies, or get her into something that she can make a mess with for meals. Anytime we go to put pretty clothes on her, she coos and holds still or helps us dress her.

She and her brother are still absolute best friends. Yes, they're starting to fight a bit over toys, but they hate being separated when they're being disciplined for fighting.

I can't believe she's been in our lives for a year--it seems simultaneously nowhere near as long, and seems like she's always been here. I cannot imagine life without her, or her brother.

Time comes creeping up...

Lots of things are creeping up. First of all is my daughter's first birthday on Sunday. We're going to Odysseus's parents' today to celebrate it (and to pick up the imp who spent last night to go to the Christmas parade with them this morning). The pixie is about half dressed--a long sleeved onesie and a pair of tights that we'll put a little jumper dress over (I'll post pictures later--she's too cute in this outfit)--wandering around babbling and playing with her baby dolls and the stuffed animals that she and the imp share ownership of. She's walking well enough now that she doesn't crawl anymore, unless there's something she wants under a piece of furniture.

She had her birthday party with my family last weekend, will be getting made much over today by Grandma and Grandpa, and will be getting presents from us tomorrow. I don't really see the point in hosting a huge party for little ones that aren't even in school yet--strikes me as just another one of those "keeping up with (or outdoing) the Jones" things that I have no interest in. Yes, my friends are fond of her, but I think a party that the kids would enjoy would bore the spit out of anyone who isn't a parent. And since both of mine are under five, a party they'd enjoy would bore the spit out of our friends' kids.

The next thing creeping up is the end of the semester. Last day of classes is next Friday. The next week is finals week, but I don't give final exams. I plan to get all of my grading done, grades figured, and get them posted before the middle of finals week so that my Christmas Break can start early.

I've got about three weeks of backlogged blog grading* to do, but I'm done grading first drafts of last papers. I'll be grading revisions as they come in next week.

It's funny, but as much as I love my job, I always look forward to when semesters are over--moreso now that I teach online and don't ever really make the close connections with my students. Don't get me wrong: I love being home with the kids, and I love not having to put up with my colleagues' opinions that just because they have a doctorate in American Literature (women's writing only, and only pre-Revolutionary War--and yes, I do have a colleague with that narrow a specialization), they're an expert in modern politics, economics, and foreign policy. But I do miss my classroom, and I miss interacting with my students face-to-face.

After next Friday, I'll have about five or six weeks off. I really need the break, too.

Another thing creeping up is Christmas. Frankly, I dread this the worst. I haven't got shopping done, can't get some of it done until closer to the date (my family is terrible about hoarding clutter, so I'm giving them fruit baskets that I assemble for them), and don't have any idea what to get everyone else.

Most of all, I'm dreading going to my family's for Christmas dinner--I have three aunts, none of which have kids, and two of whom cannot simply enjoy a peaceful family get together without bickering and quarreling about stupid little stuff. And if I get upset with them about anything, they don't keep it between us, they take it out on my mother (a woman who doesn't have a spine to speak of).

I am, however, looking forward to the kids' reactions on Christmas morning. The imp's and pixie's reactions to decorated and lighted Christmas trees at the grandparents' homes (or at Wal-Mart, or Sam's Club) is cute enough, but I think they're both old enough this year to really enjoy the unwrapping of presents.

*For those who've just started reading my blog, one of my semester-long projects that I've had my students doing since I started teaching online has been that my students have to create and keep up a blog. My Comp I students have to summarize and respond to news stories, and my Comp II students have to write persuasive pieces with three supporting links. Both classes have to read and respond to two classmates' posts per week, as well. It's improved writing fluency and made them more self-conscious about grammar/editing errors than they are for the papers that they turn in to me.

FFOT: CLOSE your DAMN LEGS!!!

Watch this. Then tell me you don't agree with what I've written below (language alert).




Listen, honey. YOU are the only one responsible for the situation you're in. YOU opened your legs, without the benefit of being married (not that any man worth spit would have you), or the use of a DAMN CONDOM! Fuck right the fucking fuck off, with a--no, never mind that. I don't want to even suggest anything remotely to do with sex to this...individual.

May this filthy, welfare crack whore twatwaffle wake one morning to find that her funds have been cut off, and her children taken, and find herself in some sort of transportation on the way to the veterinarian to get spayed.

ADDENDUM: If any of you guys have anything frustrating you heading into the weekend, feel free to vent in the comments here. Use whatever kind of language you want. I won't mind, and you'll feel better.

To all of my readers:

I started blogging three and a quarter years ago, about two months before my imp was born. I started blogging because I work in one of the largest left-leaning industries that isn't government: academia. Worse, I work in the hardest-left-leaning section of the industry--humanities, in an English department. And I am an at-will by the semester contract employee.

Needless to say, I didn't (still don't) feel safe airing my opinions with any but very close friends who were as busy as I was, and on very different schedules.

So, I got the bright idea to start a blog. Then realized, as I was setting it up, that anyone would be able to find it by Google-searching my name, and spazzed out a bit until I figured out how to keep my name off of it. A few days after that, I came up with my pen name.

No, I won't explain the name. Run an internet search with the engine of your choice on the first name--the last name comes from the author of Brave New World.

I write my opinions and reactions to the world around me as the muse takes me, and as I have the time. I've never had a particular audience in mind. I never expected to gain an audience outside of my husband (who now has a blog of his own) or a few friends who visit the blog once in a while.

That I now have a fairly regular audience of followers is humbling.

So, thank you, all of you. Anyone who hits my follower button in the future will get a public thank you--maybe not immediately, if I have grading to do, but you will be acknowledged.

I bet I shoot better than Dr. Adams.

I used to read Mike Adams' columns from Townhall pretty much every time he posted one. I found them funny, and a refreshing change from the rabid, militant feminism verging on man-hating evangelical lesbianism on the campus where I got my MA.

Just after my imp was born, I found myself short on time between juggling my class, helping a colleague with his grading, and baby care (as if you guys who've read my blogs for long can tell). So, I gradually stopped reading the opinion columns. Stopped that long before stopping reading the news when I was pregnant with the pixie.

In any case, I went to Townhall today, just on a whim to see what-all was being said about Barney "You can't fire me! I quit!" Frank, and found an Adams column about guns. I thought, "He likes guns, likes shooting, and is usually a fun read. This should be good."

Yeah. About that. He was a good read three years ago. I thought he knew a lot about guns four years ago, before I got into shooting. My opinions have changed. Because of this article, and the way he's so concerned and condescending (and totally ignorant) about what women should carry.

I have nothing about his first choice--Smith & Wesson J-Frame Revolvers--except that I don't care for revolvers. They feel bulky, the cylinder makes it feel front heavy, and I hate the angle of the grip. For others that like revolvers, they're great.

I do take issue with this: "For women, I strongly urge the Model 638. Less recoil, but still enough stopping power. There is no need to drop down to a .380. The 38 has enough power and is both light enough and concealable enough for most women."

Really? Really? Are you seriously suggesting that a light .38 is a good, controllable gun for a woman to carry? I have an airweight .38, and if that were what I was carrying when I got into a hairball, my first inclination would be to throw the gun because it kicks so hard I wouldn't want to shoot it!*

His second choice has the same sexist BS. I don't personally care for Glocks, M&Ps, XDs, or any of the other striker-fired square chunks of polymer and steel. I really don't like the ones that require the trigger to be pulled for takedown--too much potential for NDs. For those that like them, great. However, "Women may want to opt for the 9mm version with less recoil."

Again...really? Dude, I routinely carry a full-sized 1911 in .45. I have less issue with recoil with that gun than I do the airweight .38. Stop stereotyping, or I might have to start shooting back with the insults. And, I think, I might well do a better job.

His third choice I have some major issues with. I do not think a Taurus Judge is a good gun for anything but "SNAKE!" country, when you're out fishing or hiking.

Next, the S&W 629. Again, no major issues, with the gun, and he's actually not sexist with it! He is, however, dumb as a box of rocks: "With a Judge under the seat and a Model 629 in the trunk there is little that can come your way that you cannot handle." Why in the hell would you carry something wildly inaccurate/underpowered in the car, and keep the good one in the trunk?

Last, the Remmington 870. Good choice. Good gun. Idiot's preference is the Tacti-cool version. No big deal. No, the jaw-droppingly stupid mindset is displayed here:

"Generally, all you have to do is rack the pump once and the intruder leaves the premises. The sound of a pump shotgun is unmistakable. All you have left to do is clean the burglar poop off the floor afterwards. Generally speaking, that’s better than raising an argument of self-defense. That can only happen if you find yourself on trial."

Okay, where to start on that one...

1. Dude, do not depend on the hopped up meth-head Occupidiot being sober enough to recognize the sound of a pump action shotgun being put into battery. Nor smart enough to run when they hear it.

2. Poop off the floor? What do you have, naked burglars? Generally, the poop will stay in their clothes, and won't make a mess for you to clean up.

3. Most of us live in a free state where the law permits us to shoot someone who breaks into our house without having to worry about proving self defense. The burden of proof (that we weren't acting in self defense) lies with the other side of the argument. And worrying about facing trial by twelve will see you, your family, and your pets being carried by six.

I get the impression from the tone of the article that I know more about guns than Dr. Adams does, even though I don't have a PhD.

*I wouldn't really throw a gun at a goblin unless it was empty and I had no reloads. But the .38 makes it tempting.

Not quite the way he envisions, perhaps, but yes.

Cornell West has been quoted by Real Clear Politics as saying that “the push for more entitlements ‘is going to be fought in the streets.’” He’s probably right, but I strongly doubt things will turn out the way he hopes, considering that he’s heaped praise on the Occupidiots for their foray into “civil” disobedience.

What’s more likely to happen is that the Occupidiots are going to get frustrated, the violence they’re keeping contained within their squatters’ camps is going to spill out, and the adults in this country are going to have to spank the spoiled children. I can foresee some dumb, lazy, entitled punk deciding that he’s got a right to the money carried by some productive member of society walking past a squatters’ camp, and attempting to redistribute the wealth without the power of the government and the IRS behind him. Like as not (anywhere but the People’s Republics of Illinois, Massachusetts, and other “crime-safe, gun-free” zones), said productive member of society is going to be armed, and lazy, worthless punk is going to wind up ventilated.

That’s going to spark a riot. And then it’s going to have to be contained. If the government is unwilling to do it (likely, given Richmond’s preferences), then it will fall to the citizens.

And we, the people, are getting damn fed up with the vicious beasts biting the hands that are forced to feed them in the first place. I strongly suspect that, should we, the people, be forced to contain the Occupidiots’ riot(s), there are going to be heads busted, followed in short order by either another civil war (please, God, no), or a complete and total rout in the voters’ booths of those who refused to do their jobs in the first place.

FFOT: Black Friday

Usually, I'd only post this over at The FFOT, but readership there is down, and this seems kind of like a vital service to my friends--providing a forum to vent frustrations before heading into the weekend--so I'm going to start posting here, too.

By the way: there will be much foul language in this post, and all others marked ffot. Just a friendly warning.

Black Friday hysteria can fuck right the fuck off. I don't think even the opening of fucking hunting season garners as much media hysteria as Black fucking Friday, the opening of Christmas Holiday Gift Giving Shopping Season. What kind of stupid fucking putzes fucking trample each other to be the first to buy that 55" flatscreen TV that's on sale for 2% off the regular price (after figuring for the stores carefully jacking up their prices weeks before so that they can hype that the thing is 40% off!!1!1!!)? And what kind of fucking jackals fucking set up fucking NEWS CAMERAS in fucking hopes of fucking catching footage of fucking twatwaffles worked up BY THE FUCKING MEDIA'S FUCKING OVERHYPING OF THE FUCKING SALES fucking TRAMPLING little old ladies and children?!

May whoever started that particular shit-ball rolling find their own special level of hell when they die, and find that their punishment is to be the door greeter at a big box store on Black Friday--for all eternity.

And if they're already dead, I'm sure they've been reincarnated as a dung-beetle by now.

The floor is yours: address whatever is frustrating you in the comments. Don't be shy about language. I won't be offended, and you'll feel better.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I'm thankful for my husband and my children. I'm thankful I have a roof over my head, clothes to wear, enough to eat, and lights, water, heat, and internet. I'm thankful for my friends and family. There's lots of other stuff, too, but those are the major ones.

Come to think of it, I have a whole lot more to be thankful for than I do to complain about. Most of us do. Most of us forget that fact.

Let's try to do better this year. One of the easiest ways to do better is to think about it.

What are you thankful for?

AAARGH!!!

So, I sold my PK380 to raise the cash to buy a .22 upper for my STI. Got home and ordered one. They said it was in stock when we ordered it, then sent Odysseus an e-mail saying they wouldn't have one to send us for 6-8 weeks.

I need to go shooting again. Better to put holes in paper than let my head explode with frustration over lying sacks of $#!& that don't have in stock what they say they have in stock.

Anybody know where I can get a good .22 conversion kit for a 1911?

CHICKEN ENCHILADA CASSEROLE

Similar to the beef enchilada casserole I've already posted, but different enough to need its own recipe posted. This is a little simpler and easier to make, because you can use canned chicken if you don't have leftover. Basically, just substitute one 13 oz can per pound of cooked, diced chicken. You can substitute the water the chicken is canned in for the chicken broth, too.

1-2 lbs cooked chicken (diced)

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 c chicken broth

1 T chili powder

½ t garlic powder

¼ t black pepper

1 can ro-tel (drained)

1 can cream style corn

4 c crushed tortilla chips

8 oz or more shredded cheddar

1. Combine diced chicken, soup, spices, chicken broth, & Ro-Tel. 2. Layer half the chips, half the chicken mixture, and half the cheese. 3. Repeat layers. Bake at 425 until cheese is melted and lightly browned--about 25 minutes.

Make two and freeze one. If you're starting to cook this from frozen, leave covered with foil for 1.5 hours, then uncover for the last half hour to melt and brown the cheese.

I would imagine you could use this recipe, substitute turkey for chicken and cream of mushroom soup for the cream of chicken, and deal with Thanksgiving leftovers quite nicely.

An exercise in futility

Has anyone else tried to pick up clutter in a house with two toddlers? It's imp0ssible, unless you get them penned out of the room you're trying to clean. My son can scatter toys faster than I can pick them up. My daughter is almost as fast.

Sometimes I wish I could teach them to put toys in boxes rather than fling them all over their rooms. And the hall. And the bathroom. And the living room.

I feel much better, now.

So, I did get to spend a couple of hours shooting. I'd've spent longer, but there was this nice man with his son that showed up...sans stapler, sans ear protection. And with a BB RIFLE!!

Guys, you were really nice, and I enjoyed meeting you (and enjoyed watching you shoot a .22 pistol for the first time), but NEXT TIME, BRING HEARING PROTECTION!! I didn't feel right keeping shooting what I was shooting (or starting shooting the rifle) when I WAS THE ONLY ONE AT THE 25 YD SHELTER WITH EARPLUGS!!!

Jeesh. Between nice, clueless guys that want a rifle just like what they shoot in Call of Duty (and don't know the first thing about even what caliber it shoots, much less how hard it's going to kick), and the dumbass white trash* shooting nickle-plated Beretta-style .40 caliber handguns without hearing protection for them OR FOR THEIR 8 MONTH OLD DAUGHTER!! OR WIFE!! I was about ready to call Odysseus and ask him to pick up a couple packages of the cheap, orange foam earplugs sold at pretty much every Wal-Mart, and start handing them out so I could shoot without worrying about damaging someone else's hearing.

Anyway, enough of that. I promised pictures, if I was satisfied that my skills hadn't atrophied too badly. Well, as you can see below, they really haven't. The first magazine was emptied into the (free conservation range free paper target) on the right. If I'd had to empty that into a goblin, they'd be missing from their aorta to the bottom third of a lung.


As for the second magazine (the target on the left)...yeah, I couldn't do that again on a bet.



Both of those were done with my carry piece: a CZ 82 that Odysseus got me for Christmas just after our imp was born.

Seriously, I love this gun. Its ergonomics are such that it feels almost instinctive in the way you acquire (and keep) the target. The controls are well-placed for someone that doesn't have little kid hands (i.e., I can't reach the magazine release or the slide release with my shooting hand, but everyone else can), the trigger is clean and crisp with no travel in the single-action pull. The double action is a little difficult, but that may just be my size working against me.

It's also very simple and easy to care for. Here it is, taken down for cleaning.



The take down lever is the trigger guard: yank down, and the slide comes right off.

The gun came with an ambidextrous field holster, a spare magazine, and a cleaning rod. Neat little package, isn't it?



With the flap buttoned down, this could almost be mistaken for a binoculars case.



As for the others...I didn't really have a chance to shoot rifle (you should see some of the specimens that the free public range** attracts--even on a week day afternoon). And the Walther pistols were...disappointing in comparison to the CZ. The trigger on both suck, and the tolerances in my particular PK380 were looser than a dockside whore: I'm not a great shot, but I'm not bad enough to have the front sight on the x and miss two inches to the right one time, and two to the left the next two times, then right again. And it wasn't consistent in the way I missed, so I strongly suspect that it really was the gun. I suppose it would have done well enough in a tight situation, but I have other guns I would prefer to rely on.

So I sold it. And turned around and ordered a Kimber .22 upper for my Spartan. I do want to shoot it, but, since I don't have the time (or space) to start reloading, I can't afford to shoot it as much as I'd like to get comfortable with the feel of it.

All in all, yesterday was a whole lot of fun. I only wish I'd taken more Makarov...

*Believe me: I know the difference between redneck and white trash. It has nothing to do with income, and everything to do with behavior and planning ability.

**Best use of tax dollars I've ever seen in my life.

A rare treat.

I get to go to the range, today. It's much needed, given the nasty flashbacks that the whole Penn State issue is causing.

Let's see...what to take.

This (this one is my carry piece, so it's going first). It was a Christmas gift, just after my son's birth, and came with a field holster, cleaning rod, and extra magazine. When it's not riding in it's inner pants holster in the small of my back, it lives in my purse in the field holster.

And this (my first real gun--my beloved little bitch).

And this (I would carry this, since it feels like and shoots like it's older sibling, but it only came with one magazine, and spares are pretty much impossible to find).

And this, just for fun. It's my husband's, but most of mine kick too hard to shoot while I'm still nursing a baby. I absolutely do not want a wet shirt in this weather.

This is only the third (or so) time I've been able to make it to the range. And today, I get to take my time, because the pixie is finally eating solid food well enough that she doesn't need me to feed her every four or so hours.

I foresee an entire afternoon cheerfully given over to lead based therapy, loud meditation, or whatever else you want to call it.

Thank God. I need this.

Update: Thanks, Stephen, for the good wishes. Much fun was had, pictures will follow tomorrow. (As will a rant about range safety--including being prepared).

I can see the finish line!!

I just picked up papers yesterday and this morning (they were due by midnight last night--no way am I staying up that long, just to collect papers), and managed to get about half graded as I was picking them up.

That makes three out of four papers for both classes. And we've got two more full weeks and one partial (Thanksgiving Break starts next Wednesday) before semester's over. Then, I have five weeks off before doing it all again.

Hopefully, in those five weeks, I can find the time and energy to get some of my planned writing done.

*snort*

Shamelessly stolen from The Feral Irishman. He's got some good stuff--go read. Some of it is definitively NSFW, so beware.

Honoring our Veterans

Yesterday was Veterans Day. I know that it's also when the guns fell silent in WWI, but today that's mostly forgotten in popular culture*. No, today, we're told "it's the day where we're supposed to show our appreciation for veterans!"

Something about that statement bothers me. "Veteran's Day." A day to honor veterans. Kind of like Mother's Day, or Father's Day.

In theory, it's kind of a nice thought; however, in practice, it turns into a sop to those who don't want to be bothered the rest of the year. Most of the people I work with wear a poppy in their lapels on Veteran's Day, then talk about how horrible the citizens of (insert your choice of third world shithole we have troops in here) have it, and how awful it is that our soldiers are there shooting poor innocent civilians (who have AK-47s, a plan, and a refusal to follow the rules of war by wearing a uniform and not hiding in civilian populations).

So, vets from whatever war you served in (as well as those who've served in peace time), thank you. Thank you for your service, from one who was physically unfit, and is humbly grateful year round, not just on Veteran's Day.



*I blame public "education" for this, among other things.