Why Politicians Sling Mud

Today's post is again inspired by Sunny, who wrote about her distaste for mudslinging earlier today.  I've had similar conversations with many, many friends over the years, and we all say that we hate it, yet somehow the overwhelming majority of today's political campaigns end up flinging poo at their opponents.  I think it's more appropriate to call it flinging poo, because our political discourse has become so dismal that our elected officials are behaving more like primates than people.

The thing is, slinging $h1+ works!  Polls and election results have consistently shown that saying bad things about your opponent yields better results than taking the high road and focusing on your own policy and platform.  This means it's our own damn fault, because at a macro level, we reward the exact behavior that we rebuke as individuals. Our brains seem to respond to trash talking at a subconscious level.

When I think back to my younger days, I recall the entire political arena being far more respectful.  While statistics demonstrate that elected officials did work across party lines more frequently than they do today, I have to admit that mudslinging has always existed. "Tricky Dick" was Richard Nixon's nickname.  John Kerry was "swiftboated."  Going back further in history, slinging $h1+ was rampant after the civil war, when there was national animosity, and yellow journalism was the rule, not the exception.

I believe that part of the appeal of Donald Trump is that he has turned smack talking into an art form.  Partisan supporters love that he's "owning the libs," and "calling out the deep state."  When he's caught in a lie about his opponents, Trump's supporters say that he's "speaking figuratively."

I also suspect that $h1+ slinging is a large part of why people stop participating in the election process.  They think crap, they're all a bunch of liars, why should I vote for any of them?!? Unfortunately, this would also mean that the people who respond to negative campaigning end up being the majority of voters, creating a vicious cycle.

What this all means is that mudslinging is nothing new, and the only way to make it stop is to quit feeding the beast.  Stop reading internet articles that talk about so-and-so owning his opponent.  Quit buying newspapers that focus on sensationalism.  End your support for politicians who attack the other guy's character instead of rationally disagreeing with platform issues.  We got where we are as a result of our own behavior.  Politicians are not guiding us, they are reflecting us.  They won't do better until we do better.

Two Minutes of Silence

Going into Memorial Day weekend, I had a random memory pop into my head.  Back in the before times, wife 1.0 and I attended an event for older daughter, I believe it was cheerleading or something like that.  Regardless, the event was on Memorial Day.

While waiting in line to purchase tickets to an event that highlighted newly acquired skills that I paid someone to teach my daughter, I wondered if the organizers were going to observe a moment of silence.

The ticket counter was a folding table, staffed by someone who looked like another parent.  I asked the person taking the tickets if there were plans to have two minutes of silence.  "Two minutes," she replied?  "That's a long time!"

What, I thought? You believe that two minutes of silence is too long to pay respect to people who answered their country's call and paid with their lives?  Wow!  "No it's not," I replied flatly.  I believe I was wearing a Marine Corps baseball hat, but I can't say for sure.  This was a long time ago.

Regardless, I must have made an impact, because I recall her saying "Let me see what I can do," as 1.0, younger daughter, and I strolled into the high school gym.  At the appointed time, the emcee strolled to the center of the gym and welcomed everyone to the event, and said "Before we begin, I ask that we observe two minutes of silence in remembrance of those who made the ultimate sacrifice."

The room went completely silent.  Hats came off. Some heads bowed.  Children were shushed.  Two minutes was a long time.  As it should be.

I am reasonably confident that I single-handedly got this accomplished.

This May Come Back to Haunt Him

I read a news story this morning that Thomas Massie has been defeated in the Kentucky Republican primaries.  For those of you who are unfamiliar, Massie is a Republican US House Representative from Kentucky, and he's been a bit of a thorn in Trump's side because Massie has the audacity to have opinions and votes that are not in lock step with our illustrious leader.  In response to Massie's effrontery, the president made it his personal mission to ensure that Massie was removed from office, and replaced with someone who will kiss the ring.  This may come back to haunt our wannabee king.  Allow me to explain why:

Elections are really a two part process... the primary elections and the general elections.  The political parties select their party candidate during the primaries.  In other words, a bunch of Republican (or Democrat, or whatever party, but in this specific case, it's Republican) candidates say "I want to be your next elected official for this political office."  Voters who are registered members of that party choose their one candidate during the primaries.  Realistically speaking, what tends to happen is that only the most die-hard partisan voters select their party candidate and the end result is that the most rabid partisan is selected as that party's candidate.  To rephrase, Republicans usually vote for the most conservative candidate in their primaries, and Democrats select the most liberal candidate.  The end result is that you have two hyper-partisan candidates running in the general election.

Here's why Trump's move could come back to haunt him... he just replaced Massie with a yes man... right at the time where the country is showing signs of Trump fatigue.  Realistically, Massie could have swayed a good chunk of independent voters in the general election by playing up his willingness to break from the party.  This tends to work well during election cycles where we're not voting for president, and it tends to work even better during the second term of a president.  As an incumbent, Massie held a statistical advantage for reelection, meaning that Trump would have likely ended up with a Republican representative who would vote accordingly most of the time.  Instead, Trump is gambling that his anointed candidate will win the election, despite the fact that both candidates are newcomers, and despite the fact that the country is experiencing Trump fatigue.

I'd like to say that I'm not a guru.  In fact, when it comes to elections, I'm more often wrong than right.  So take my words with a grain of salt.  But I am aware of statistical trends, and this seems like a gamble.  It's a bet I wouldn't take if I were POTUS.  Yep, this may come back to haunt POTUS.  But then again, he's the billionaire president, and I'm just a disgruntled never-Trump constituent.

New Sight

I've been a competitive handgun shooter for about four years.  Not bragging, this is a local group, shooting at paper targets, primarily for fun.  I haven't tracked stats closely but I estimate that I'm in the upper third.  We fire 50 rounds per week at a range of 7 to 15 yards.  We do low light scenarios, mandatory reloads, malfunction drills, weak hand strings, and hostage situations.  All of the events are timed.  Max score is 450 points, and I tend to run in the 430 range, though I have had multiple 450 weeks.

My vision has changed over the last couple of years, which has brought down my average.  I have astigmatism, which gives my dot sight a starburst effect, making it more difficult to precisely zero in on the bullseye.  The starburst is actually more of a comet, but you get the idea.  Either way, it's been a thorn in my side for well over a year.  I finally identified and purchased a new sight and so far I like it.

The previous sight was a green dot, which is supposed to be better for astigmatism, but it didn't have adjustable brightness.  The new one is a red dot that's dimmable.  I've only put 100 rounds downrange so far, but I'm pleased with the initial results.  The first day was sighting in, so I didn't track my results.  Today though, I put 50 rounds down range on a human silhouette target.  At 20 yeards, I had three that were outside of the 10 ring, with no time limit.  Here's hoping this bumps my score back up.

For Want of a Popsicle

Every Wednesday my younger grandson comes over for a visit.  When mom dropped him off yesterday, she said no food and no snacks because he didn't finish his dinner.  I made myself a small plate of spaghetti for my evening meal, and he wanted some. He understood when I said no.  Since it was hot in the house of Evan yesterday, I pulled out a fresh fruit popsicle for my dessert.  He said he wanted one, and I again said no, reminding him that mom said no food.  That one didn't go over so well.

Apparently, he had decided that if he couldn't have one, that I shouldn't either.  He tried to grab the popsicle from me.  I grabbed his arm to stop him, to which he cried "Ow!  My bones!" in mock pain.  I let him go, and he tried again.  I, of course, grabbed his arm again, and he again said "My bones!"  I called his bluff and told him I know I'm not hurting him.  He said he was going to do it again, to which I responded, "What do you think will happen if you do that?"

"You'll grab my arm again," he answered.

"Great, you're learning."

"If you don't give me a popsicle, I'm going to put hair on yours so you can't eat it," he continued, trying in vain to get his way, and going about it in the absolute worst possible way.  I told him this wouldn't end well for him, as he went to the broom closet to grab our duster.  As he walked toward me with the duster, I told him he was not getting a popsicle and it was time to be done with the attitude.  He responded by throwing the duster on the floor and stomping toward me, planning who-knows-what.  "Okay, corner time," I said flatly, bringing on the grand mal meltdown.

As he stomped and screamed to his corner at the end of the hallway, I matter-of-factly reminded him that his time doesn't start until he calms down.  He chilled a bit.  I started the timer.  He screamed, stomped and started punching doors, and I informed him that his timer would be restarted.  He lost it, turning around and charging me at full speed.  Seeing that he wasn't going to stop, I pivoted to the side and raised my leg to knee height, in order to ensure that the waist-high five year old boy didn't try going for papa's jewels.  He ran headlong into my waist, at full speed, promptly bouncing off me and falling flat on his back.  As he lay on the floor, slightly confused, completely enraged, and utterly rebuffed, I just pointed to the corner, which brought on round two of the meltdown.

Eventually, he calmed down and the evening continued.  When mom came to pick him up, I gave her a rundown, which brought on a repeat of the tantrum for reasons that would only make sense to a five year old boy.  He spit on my floor.  Three separate times.  Mom made him take off his shirt and wipe up the spit, which was one of the best, most creative punishments I've ever seen!  The boy really didn't like that one, because he directly experienced the consequences of his behavior.

My daughter is really struggling with my grandson's temper.  I, on the other hand, realize that, while he's on the higher end of the temper tantrum scale, he's still well within normal behavior for his age.  I guess it's easier for me, because when his temper gets the better of him, I see myself at that age.

All of these power struggles for want of a popsicle...

Refurbished Boots

Last month, I mentioned that I found an old pair of jungle boots from when I was active duty.  They were in rough shape after sitting in a closet for about 15 years, but I wanted to see if I could revive them with a little TLC.  After a bit of reading and some elbow grease, I've restored them to a wearable condition.

Since Sunny requested, I'm posting a couple of pictures.

This first image is after I stripped off the old polish.

 The boots didn't look this rough when I started.  I had spit shined them before putting them in the closet, so they were actually quite glossy, but the leather was dry, brittle and cracked.  Stripping them down allowed me to work some badly needed conditioner deep into the leather.  I also used a little bit of leather repair to fill in the worst of the cracks.  This was followed by a light sanding with fine grit sandpaper to get rid of the roughness brought on by the ravages of time.

 

 The second image is after dyeing the boots.

After stripping and sanding the boots, I applied several layers of leather dye, which was followed by a few layers of leather conditioner.

 The third image is after polishing the boots.

This picture shows the boots as they are now, with a high gloss buffed finish.  They're generally completed, but I will continue adding layers of polish for a while, with the goal of spit shining them someday in the future.  You may notice that my boot laces are green.  This is not regulation, but I stood several inspections wearing green laces made from parachute chord, and I never got dinged for it.  I took this idea from a Force Recon Marine who did the same thing.  I went a bit further this time around and added aglets at the end, made from heat shrink.  This is strictly an aesthetic choice.  I melted the ends of the laces to make sure they don't fray.

I also had to touch up the eyelets, which I did using enamel paint.  Another detail, which is difficult to describe, and impossible to see in the pictures, is that I dyed ALL of the leather black.  Before this refurbish, there were surfaces that were still undyed, from the factory.  These nude spots would be where the leather shapes were cut from the original leather swath.  It's a silly minor detail, but in person the boots look a lot more black due to this minuscule change.

I'm looking forward to wearing them to PT this week and telling the kids these boots are over twice their age.

Modern Cars are Boring

Am I the only one who thinks modern cars all look the same?  Basically, we have three different vehicles... SUVs, pick-up trucks and a few sedans.  All SUVs look alike.  All pick-ups are the same, and sedans are cookie cutter too.  I miss the days where you could know the approximate year, make and model of a vehicle from 100 yards away, because each year and each model had its own personality.