<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114138420656545266</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:13:21.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Patient</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lastditch1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295028353684444123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114138420656545266.post-4179655249585096489</id><published>2008-07-17T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T12:06:08.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stray Thoughts and Significant Quotes</title><content type='html'>From "High Justice" by Jerry Pournelle, copyright 1974&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What would be the point?" Aeneas asked. "I won my crusade. We liberated Jerusalem." And it had been as it must have been for a true knight of the Middle Ages: how could he rejoice when he saw his comrades wade in blood to the altar of the Prince of Peace? When he saw the Chivalry of the West grubbing for lands in the Kingdom of Jerusalem? . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I chose—what? My country? I always thought so." And how must the true knights have felt when their crusade succeeded, and they saw the actuality, not the dreams? Was it true that some went to the Saracens because they had no place else to go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From "The Last Centurion," Prologue, copyright John Ringo 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Centurions were the guardians of Rome. At the height of the Roman Republic there were over five thousand qualified Roman Centurions in the Legions. To be a Centurion required that, in a mostly illiterate society, one be able to read and write clearly, to be able to convey and create orders, to be capable of not only performing every skill of a Roman soldier but teach every skill of a Roman soldier.          &lt;p&gt;Becoming a Centurion required intense physical ability, courage beyond the norm, years of sacrifice and a total devotion to the philosophy which was Rome. When Rome fell to barbarian invaders, there were less than five hundred qualified Centurions. Not because Rome had fewer people but because it had fewer willing to make the sacrifices. And the last Centurions left their shields in the heather and took a barbarian bride . . .&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;We are . . . &lt;i&gt;The Last Centurions&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;And this Rome SHALL NOT FALL!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From "The Last Centurion," Chapter 4, copyright John Ringo August 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p onmouseover="PNo(327)"&gt;The first part was the Emergency Vaccination Distribution Plan. Spread the vaccine to health providers. At the same time, spread it to emergency services personnel and the military including National Guard. As time permits, go to nationwide forced immunization if it got that bad.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a id="p328" name="p328"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p onmouseover="PNo(328)"&gt;Simultaneous with that, call up all the National Guard and Reserves. Mobilize all active units to full combat status. If necessary, start a "staged redeployment" of the rest of the military world-wide.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a id="p329" name="p329"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p onmouseover="PNo(329)"&gt;Second step, shut down the country. It's called "zone quarantine." Close &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt; the borders, not only between the U.S. and other countries but internally. Preferably, close it down to county level where possible. International travel shuts down first. Planes coming from other places are turned back. U.S. citizens and residents can enter the country but go into quarantine, not home. This would probably start before the first vaccine shipped. It was planned (there's that word again) to be total "primary" quarantine in three days. I think that's optimistic, but we'll give it that just for shits and giggles.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a id="p330" name="p330"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p onmouseover="PNo(330)"&gt;When, not if, you have outbreaks you start "ring immunization." That is, when you find someone who has the flu you ensure immunization status of everyone they've come into contact with or anyone they &lt;i&gt;could have&lt;/i&gt; come into contact with. You do not ask for permission; unless they can prove they're immunized, you stick them with a damned needle whether they like it or not. You go through the whole neighborhood the person lives in, you go to the stores they've visited, you stick everyone at their workplace. You stick people that just sort of knew them in school or that they sort of remember from seeing across a bar.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a id="p331" name="p331"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p onmouseover="PNo(331)"&gt;There are leakers. Always. You find them and do the same thing, hopefully quicker. You broadcast that such and such a person had the flu and beg people to go to a doctor and get checked. And anyone who has been in contact with &lt;i&gt;those&lt;/i&gt; people.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a id="p332" name="p332"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" onmouseover="PNo(332)"&gt;You hit that motherfucker with a full fucking court press.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" id="p333" name="p333"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" onmouseover="PNo(333)"&gt;You don't open up the borders, any of them, until you've killed the son of a bitch.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" id="p334" name="p334"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" onmouseover="PNo(334)"&gt;Fuck the economy. Fuck anything. Shut the fuck down until your population is safe. They can't buy trinkets or gas or groceries if they're mostly dead.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" id="p335" name="p335"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" onmouseover="PNo(335)"&gt;Nothing. Else. Matters.&lt;/p&gt;(italics mine)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" onmouseover="PNo(335)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Scarlett: Oh, Rhett! Where will I go? What will I do?&lt;br /&gt;Rhett: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better a dead lion than a live jackal. Uh-huh. Bullshit! Better a live lion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.    Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.&lt;br /&gt;B.    Home is where, when you stay there, they WILL throw you out.&lt;br /&gt;C.    Home isn't a house. Home is a feeling. If the feeling ain't there, it ain't home; it's just a place.&lt;br /&gt;D.    If you feel more at home on the road, stay there. You're considered a bum anyway, so go all         the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8114138420656545266-4179655249585096489?l=lastditch1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/feeds/4179655249585096489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8114138420656545266&amp;postID=4179655249585096489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/4179655249585096489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/4179655249585096489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/2008/07/stray-thoughts-and-significant-quotes.html' title='Stray Thoughts and Significant Quotes'/><author><name>lastditch1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295028353684444123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114138420656545266.post-7563921800799738300</id><published>2008-06-10T05:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T06:21:32.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lady and the Prizefighter</title><content type='html'>I've been having a vision and I know not whether it is literally true or false; did I actually see it or is my imagination being overly active as usual? The subject is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vision is either a painting or a model diorama called "The Lady and the Prizefighter" and depicts USS &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt; CV-6 and USS &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; BB-56 sailing together. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;, the aircraft carrier also known as "The Big E", is of course The Lady. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; is the Prizefighter, and for a brand new ship, quite robust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; at the time was the most heavily defended piece of ocean in the entire Pacific. Granted her nine 16" guns could match just about anything afloat (including &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yamato&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Musashi&lt;/span&gt;), the anti-aircraft suite was extraordinary. Five twin-mount 5"-38 mounts per side, accompanied by lots and lots of quad and twin 40mm Bofors mounts, dozens of 20mm Oerlikon, and numerous Browning 50-caliber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In November 1942,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; was assigned as a close AAA escort to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;. During the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt; was attacked by hundreds of Japanese aircraft, all intent on sinking her. Credit goes to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; that they were unsuccessful. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;'s fighter compliment was up, yes, but for the leakers that made it into &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt;'s AAA arc, most of them were doomed. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;, unfortunately, was hit enough times that her flight deck was finally put out of action, but not before the main Japanese carrier force was knocked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;USS &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hornet&lt;/span&gt; CV-8, who, along with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt; and USS &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yorktown&lt;/span&gt; CV-5, was one of the hero ships of the outstanding incredible victory at Midway Island in June 1942, was set afire and eventually sunk by a combination of bombs and torpedos from aircraft that penetrated her screen of fighter aircraft, cruisers, destroyers and her own AAA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;'s steering suffered a casualty which left her rudder jammed at full starboard and caused her to nearly ram &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;South Dakota&lt;/span&gt; managed to turn inside &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt; and increase speed to pull ahead until she could cross to  the outside of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enterprise&lt;/span&gt;'s turning circle. Her AAA never missed a beat, even as the captains breathed a sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to the Lady and the Prizefighter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8114138420656545266-7563921800799738300?l=lastditch1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/feeds/7563921800799738300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8114138420656545266&amp;postID=7563921800799738300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/7563921800799738300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/7563921800799738300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/2008/06/lady-and-prizefighter.html' title='The Lady and the Prizefighter'/><author><name>lastditch1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295028353684444123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114138420656545266.post-3156684942178732430</id><published>2008-06-04T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T12:22:48.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is the result of a 9/11 moment I had last year, before I ended up in the hospital again, as a matter of fact, before I totaled my truck:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sparkle, a flicker in the early morning sunlight catches her attention, then SLAM!! FIRE, DEBRIS, high above the streets of the city. " Dear God," she thinks, "not here! NOT HERE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smoke rises, billowing from an inferno carved out of the topmost layers of the building struck. The city rouses; distant wail of emergency vehicles, fire, police, hospital and others. Frantic activity at the fireboat station in the nearby park, lines cast off while engines begin their rumble and turnout coats are fumbled closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A second shape, moving fast, crossing in front, then straightening its course and rolling slightly so there is no question of the second tower swallowing it whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More flame, more debris crashing down on the lesser towers surrounding them. The smoke clouds join in a massive welling that is swung by the prevailing winds. It engulfs and hides her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her massive head bows, and a tear trickles down her face. Just one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the curtain parts once more, she raises her head and faces toward her city, firm, resolute again. In her mind runs the prayer written so long ago: " Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8114138420656545266-3156684942178732430?l=lastditch1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/feeds/3156684942178732430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8114138420656545266&amp;postID=3156684942178732430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/3156684942178732430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/3156684942178732430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/2008/06/this-is-result-of-911-moment-i-had-last.html' title=''/><author><name>lastditch1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295028353684444123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114138420656545266.post-702584803147085927</id><published>2008-06-03T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T11:13:52.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is my blog. Way cool! I've never done anything like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8114138420656545266-702584803147085927?l=lastditch1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/feeds/702584803147085927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8114138420656545266&amp;postID=702584803147085927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/702584803147085927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8114138420656545266/posts/default/702584803147085927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lastditch1.blogspot.com/2008/06/this-is-my-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>lastditch1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295028353684444123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
