2010

So yet another new year is upon us. I thought by 2001 we'd have space stations and killer A.I. Instead we have reality TV, Iphones and 2000 calorie burgers at Hardees.
That's OK. I think the future and for that matter technology, progress at a pace that is far more subtle than anybody writing for Star Trek would have predicted. Hell, we are, save for beaming up and warp drive, actually above the tech level of Star Trek. We have Ipones, Google Earth, Probes on Mars, the internet.... shit, we ARE in the future. Everybody and their brother has a computer than can get on the internet and spew out whatever theory they have on UFOs. That's pretty amazing, I think.

So we can go into 2010 confident that we have reached the future, just not in the way we intended.

Soviets

Soviet Reenacting. Why on Earth would I do that? I have been dabbling in Soviet WWII reenactment for years. I love; it's simple, fun and cheap. I can even talk in a cheesy Rooosian accent while shouting propaganda. Soviet indeed.
Soviet reenactors tend to not carry the same baggage as German reenactors do. I really don't know but I have theories. Like any good academic, I have theories.

First, the Soviets have acquired this air of pop culture kitsch about them. Here we can wear Mao hats and Che t-shirts without too many serious questions from the population at large. I translate this into the ability to walk into a Burger King after a reenactment wearing a Soviet Uniform and nobody caring. I know. I've did it.

Second, we were allied with the Soviets during the war. At the 60th Anniversary Parade in Toledo of WWII I wore a M43 Soviet Uniform alongside my friends dressed as the other allies. It looked good and nobody complained. The Soviet people made an awful lot of scarifies during the war... like it or not they were our allies, no matter how distrustful ultimately.

The Eastern Front has a sort of mystique, two armies fighting a battle of annihilation far removed from the rest of the war. It's almost, to the American or British, a entirely separate war that we only had fleeting, minimal contact with. The Soviet reenactor buys into that mystique. We are trying to understand a side o the war that involved absolute hatred and a even further lack of humanity. As reenactors we struggle to understand the ability of the average Soviet soldier to fight and die for a Government we can see as oppressive and dictatorial.

I don't know, in my British impression the culture is similar enough to not be a total stretch. As a Soviet, it is. I suppose it always will be.

Oh, gods. It's me, in 1995. I've already posted this old id card about but I like having it saved. I was into NASCAR in 1995, hence the Miller Genuine Draft Rusty Wallace #2 cap. I was actually 17 when this photo was taken. Gods, I was a nerd. A terrible greasy nerd. Until I learned the dual tasks of washing everything daily and brushing my teeth, I was something to behold. It took a while, but I finally got my act together.
My freshman year of school was fun and it taught me and awful lot. For you potential freshmen, here's some hard earned lessons:

1. Get the fuck out of your dorm. I knew nobody until the last bit of Fall, 1995. I stayed and played video games. Games are great fun, but I had so much more fun after I started to get to know people.

2. Wash daily. You would think most people know this, for some reason I would skimp. I showered everyday day, to be sure but never cleaned good enough. Gods. How embarrassing.

3. Women, can't live with them, pass the beer nuts. I saved myself involuntarily by not bothering to meet girls. WTF? Get out of the dorm and meet chicks; it will pay off, trust me.

4. Expand your wardrobe. I am certainly not saying to go and spend money on a $100 pair of jeans. But wash your clothes once in a while. It almost does not matter what you wear, but have clean, decent fitting clothes. It will help!

5. Do not throw food out the dorm window. Me and my buddy Steve emptied his fridge of expired food by chucking it out the window. Big Mayo jars travel VERY nice and make a satisfying splat. Especially when filled with mayo yet.

6. Drink once in a while. I'm not saying turn into a drunken hobo, but a few beers with your friends will always be fun. Trying to hide those beers as you sprint towards the dumpster will also be fun.

OK, that's it. For now. I remember freshman year with an awful lot of joy. I had alot of fun. From blasting Led Zeppelin with my buddy Steve out Conklin's courtyard to making an ass of myself with the BG Gaming group, I had fun. 1995-1996.

Astronauts

After the whole Astronaut in a diaper occurance and the recent fallout today from it (fired!) I was thinking about the modern NASA Astronaut selection program. Like most things with a large, bloated bureaucracy NASA is exceedingly political. Playing the game gets you into space, not your skill. I propose a revision of this broken method of space recruitment.

First, Buzz Aldrin will be in charge, because he's awesome. Buzz will set the mood by being the first to travel to the frozen forests of Norway where he will strip to his skivvies and hunt a bear with his bare hands, hold the still-beating heart of the beast triumphantly over his head while screaming a manly roar of victory. In order to even be considered every Astronaut must do the same thing.

For an Astronaut to get promoted he will have to wrestle Buzz for the half-eaten bear heart, Only when they win do they get to command a Shuttle Mission. Until then, Buzz is in charge. Other old-time Space Explorers will be re-recuited in order to provide a base of awesomeness for the Astronaut corps. Jim Lovell, Alan Bean, Zombie Deke Slayton, Gordo Cooper, Wally Shirra, Neil Armstrong, Mike Collins, and the other men who pioneered space. Even when selected for a mission a potential cherry will have to run the gauntlet of old-timers who will beat them with large sticks. If they make it past the gauntlet, they get on the mission.

Finally the pussy ass Shuttle will be replaced with museum piece Apollo capsules and Russian tech. Cheaper? You bet! Less safe? Unfortunately. But if the old guys could do it, then the new blood should be able to as well. Maybe the Shuttle will be kept as a reward, make it past the Russian tech and a old Gemini capsule and you get your ride in a Shuttle.

Multiplayer

I found out something the other day: the computer they gave me here plays Team Fortress 2 like a dream. This is not good. TF 2 is a simply awesome game. My screen name is Idi Amin, btw. I just purchased a good set of earphones and a built in mic so I can chant Amin style as I die every 10 seconds or so.
I have always like video games, perhaps too much. From the glory days of the Atari 2600 and the NES to my trusty Xbox and the reliable PC.. games upon games. Games always advance faster than my equipment though, that can often be a big problem. That's why I like my Xbox, I never have to worry about system specs.
When I reenact I often find kids who know all about firearms from games. Even the Lee-Enfield has been making appearances as of late in some games. I suppose any history they get can be good, but sometimes I wonder if it's the right kind of history. What is the right kind of history? That's a good question. A mix of reverence, knowledge, honor I suppose.
You will have to excuse me now. There are people on Counterstrike that need annoying with Billy Mays voice.

From South Dakota

Oh, shit. I'm here. Honest to god, I am here, teaching. When I go through my collection of ties in the morning, I am tying one on to go and fucking teach.That's a brain busting thought the likes of which I would have never of thought. Woah. The pay is OK. The place is nice, so far. Unlike OU I am not in a depressed rage every night, that's a plus you know.
Every place I have moved has a soundtrack. Modest Mouse, The Postal Service and The Russian Futurists are just a few that define Knoxville. MGMT is quickly becoming Rapid City's. I never thought I would say this, but I miss Knoxville. I hated it so awfully much while I was there but now, I sorta miss it. Mainly because so many of my friends are there.
Them I miss pretty bad. I don't like drinking alone, I makes me feel like a creepy boozer who is sooner or later going to make a guest appearance on a Chris Hanson special. On the other hand I rediscovered Counter-Strike and that's fun.
Counter-Strike, where 13 year olds cuss into the mike and pretend to be all tough then ask what alternate words for "vagina" exist. My screen name is "Billy Mays" and nothing is more hilarious than shilling Mighty Mendit while dying every 10 seconds.

Anyway, I'm at my office and trying to work, I suppose I should get back to it.

Welcome to the Chimp Chamber

Ah yes, the Chimp Chamber, a green, eco-friendly place that is manned by chimps, with the occasional baboon. My buddy Mark came up with the name, so credit is due him. This is primarily going to be about reenacting. I am a reenactor, a walt if you will. Walt after Walter Mitty. Walting in its purest form is a fellow playing up a non-existent combat record in your local pub or veterans organization. Such an act is guaranteed to get a few free drinks, a few hearty handshakes and perhaps even female attention. That is until you're found out. You'll get a few medals wrong, maybe a story will seem a little out of place and a real veteran, a guy who's been there, sees you for exactly what you are: a Walter Mitty.

As a reenactor I fully admit to being a walt but a walt with a purpose. I enjoy the education aspect of the hobby a whole lot and this satisfies the serious requirement so I can have fun with my mates and shoot blanks at fat guys dressed as Germans. ARSSE (Army Rumour Service) believes that the farther back you go with reenacting, the less of a Walt. I would like to think I balance out with my French and Indian War reenacting and my British World War II thing.

Until next time, and yes, I will tyr to make it more interesting.