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I don't see a BIG problem with this deal. We can no longer use Puerto Rico for target practice, right? So . . . we simply move our gunrange a few thousand miles to the south.

In fact, I think we should thank Fidel Chavez for buying us such attractive targets.

It must get tiresome for the Navy and Air Force folks to bomb and strafe obsolete Tonka Toy vessels towed behind a slow vessel manned by U.S. personnel. What kind of challenge is that? Like shooting fish in a barrel.

This way, our people aren't in harm's way and we get to blow the crapola outta new stuff. Ain't nothin' better'n sinking spankin'-new ships. We get to rub Chavez's nose in it and also improve the world's economy at the same time.

What's not to like about this deal? LOL.

If you were drafted by a professional sports team, believe me, you would remember that day for the rest of your life.

A hundred years or so ago a scout who was rumored to have discovered Johnny Bench came to my back-water, West Texas town checking out the local high school catcher. He'd made All-State his freshman year and was battling .487 and whacking homeruns with the Big Boys with only two games to go in his sophomore year. The kid had power and everyone told him defense could be taught. The scout was impressed as hell . . . then discovered the kid was only a sophomore.

The scout promised to come back and check on the kid.

Well . . . his junior year opposing pitchers discovered the kid couldn't hit a curve or slider to save his life. His senior year the wily and mean-spirited pitchers feasted on serving up nothing but curves and sliders.

Throw the kid a fastball of ANY velocity and he'd smack at least one out of two for a clean base hit . . . and more than normal would end up being monstrous homeruns.

But throw him the most horrible curve in the world . . . and he'd flail at it for days and never so much as dent his bat.

But, hey, a scout DID talk to me once for about five minutes . . . LOL . . . and you're right . . . I'll never forget it.

Unlike Bill Richardson, I never claimed I was drafted . . . but I did get paid $25 for a slow-pitch softball game one time. I always could hit them "straight" balls. But put a little "wiggle" on that sucker and I couldn't come within three feet of it.

You're right . . . Bill Richardson is lying out his teeth.

Them who laughs last . . . laughs the best.

Moral of the story: Do not commit murder in Texas.

Amen

Lets hope Israeli politicians have more sense than ours.

Wow!

No damn wonder I'm on your ping list.

Good job! It would've taken me a novel to say what you said in four paragraphs.

I know you've been here awhile but a little hobby of mine is checking FReeper homepages. You're the first one I've run across from New Zealand . . . howdy, FRiend, thanks for participating in Free Republic.

If just one squad of U.S. Marines went in, they could have this resolved in a matter of hours . . . but, since this is France we're talking about, they must be left to drown in their cesspool of appeasement and feel-good policies.

Terrorist criminals are like cockroaches and liberals . . . the only way to rid yourself of them suckers is to squash them.

I don't think that giving the proceeds to the families is a good idea. To me it smacks of blood money.

Agreed. I wasn't very explicit on purpose because some punks of the liberal persuasion have taken to "whoring" out the name "Gold Star" lately. One of our prominent protagonists . . . LOL . . . has been associated with the REAL Gold Star organization for decades. The bulk of the money will go there.

They have a hard enough time expressing themselves as it is, and if I told them that their emails would be made public (and I would be obliged to tell them), it would probably chill their expression.

Five of the sixteen soldiers involved have opted out of this . . . for the reasons you cite. Also . . . wives, children, whoever can redact the emails at will -- provided one of three of us have a way to verify that the un-redacted part truly reflects "the spirit" of the emailed message.

Three of us have been involved in similar things since 1942! LOL. Yup, I'm not the oldest. One gal lost her brother in World War II when she was six. She's now going on 70 and she still runs like an old sewing machine. LOL. Actually, she's the one who got all us family members acquainted and she doesn't let us get too far out of line.

Thanks for your comments. If you can think of anything else we should guard against, please let me know.

"I would pass on that title personally. Associating anything with MTV is going to make it popcorn sounding in quick video bits of bad media."

I would have to agree with you on that point. It wouldnt be hard to come up with a much better title that honors the greatest part of today's generation.

GOOD!! LOL.

I got out-voted on our initial meeting. I was the only old codger, meeting with a bunch of the wives, husbands, and children of our soldiers. I'll tell ya' how out of "it" I am . . . this is embarrassing, LOL . . . but I didn't even know what MTV was. And after my youngest daughter showed me on TV . . . I was glad. I've now blocked the channel so she can't watch it. VH-1 too.

I've sent all the "MTV-voters" your comments. Maybe y'all can knock some sense into them.

Dog, I agree with you about the "greatest part of today's generation." I'm old, fat, and senile . . . and I came into the fatherhood game late in life after adopting five children . . . and I must admit that based on some of the troubles my many nieces, nephews, and younger cousins got into, and still get into, I was really, really worried about this generation.

Then my nephew, my oldest child now -- a long story I won't bore you with -- enlisted. ENLISTED!! This only proved to me how irresponsible this generation was.

He only had one semester to go for a college degree . . . the first in his generation in our family to get a degree . . . a degree he worked his tail off to get in 3-1/2 years and be in the top 5% of his class . . . a degree that me and my other four children and one brother and one sister scrimped, saved, and slaved to pay for with our combined efforts and savings . . . a degree I HUNGERED for to serve as a shining example to his younger brothers and sisters.

And he "threw" it all away by enlisting in September of 2001.

I was one mad-disappointed Uncle/Father.

Until his Special Forces class finally graduated. Along with my near-college graduate son in this graduating class, there was one mid-20's lawyer, one guy one year away from being a doctor, one ex-college football jock who was starting for his university in his junior year but quit the team after 9-11, and one English-teaching "squirt" who looked like he couldn't push my wheelchair much less manage the rigors of the Special Forces . . . I later learned he was, my son's words - not mine, "the meanest sumbitch in the unit."

I bawled like a baby when I realized how selfish I'd been. Maybe all parents go through this, I don't know. But it floored me when I realized my son was now A MAN . . . doing the right thing for his country, despite my incessant bitching. He understood far better than I what was needed.

I've been his biggest Cheerleader ever since that day . . . to the chagrin of some of my fellow FReepers I'm sure since I bang my drum about him every chance I get. LOL.

Dog, this younger generation has far, far more mettle in their bones than any of us old kooks give them credit for. I don't think "Squirt" . . . yes, I nicknamed him that and I'm proud of the fact that I'm the ONLY one who gets away with calling him that . . . would mind if I shared an excerpted part of an email he sent his wife.

Again, these are Squirt's words, not mine . . .

"Ricky scored a goal today, Baby! You should've seen the sparkle in his eyes. None of us had ever seen him even smile but his grin would light _________'s football stadium. This light would've been the only thing that could've made you more beautiful on THAT night you were coronated Football Queen. I still tear-up when I think of how beautiful you were then, and how even more beautiful you are now. I love you, Baby."

Ricky? Ricky, obviously, wasn't his Arabic name but Squirt couldn't pronouce it so he assigned American names to all the youngsters they came into contact with. Ricky was ONE of seven Iraqi orphans Squirt's and my son's unit "adopted" their first tour there. Ricky had his left foot amputated after he stepped on a mine. Ricky's prosthetic foot was paid for by countless bake and garage sales. He'd been the most withdrawn of all the youngsters they knew. Squirt even worried that he might commit suicide, hence he took a special interest in Ricky. Squirt and my son saw Ricky every day they weren't in the field.

Years later and all five families and soldiers are still financially supporting the orphans as best we can. One of them will be going to school in Switzerland in January.

Squirt and my son's unit, along with some wonderful Seabees (sp?) cleared off a lot and built the neighborhood youngsters a soccer/football/baseball field. How those Seabees did it is beyond me . . . but according to my son it was absolutely the most beautiful field he ever saw -- hell, it even had grass and chalk lines to mark the field for whatever game they were playing. The field is still being used today . . . championship soccer and baseball games are played there.

The field is now named after Squirt.

He was killed the day after he wrote the above-mentioned letter to his lovely wife.

Squirt's wife is now in the process of formally and legally adopting Ricky.

So yes, Dog, my son and his generation have proven to this doubting Thomas that we Americans have nothing to worry about. We're in good hands.

I'm sorry this is so long and I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense but my youngest daughter is typing this for me and it's hard to type and dictate when tears are flowing.

God, how I love my son and his comrads.

The plan is to fill the prospective "commenters" in about the young men/women who wrote the emails, where they were and what they were doing when they wrote them, then get the "commenters" take on the emails.

But I must warn you . . . the emails are graphic and heart-breaking as we find ourselves on the frontlines of the War on Terror . . . yet they're somehow exhilirating as we see before our very eyes that our youngsters are willingly and enthusiastically taking the reins of governance and stewardship from my generation . . . and we're in damn good hands.

I often worried about today's generation of "Me, me, me" youngsters . . . but when the rubber met the road on 9-11 our youngsters stepped forward just like all the other generations of Americans did before them.

We're in good hands.

We're not planning on doing anything anytime REAL soon . . . we're just trying to get organized. We want to pay homage to this country's newest heroes . . . but one can't pay homage until the war is won and we know better than most that this War on Terror will be long and costly . . . with your children and my children footing most of the bill.

Would you help us? We're not interested in donations . . . in fact, we WON'T TAKE DONATIONS . . . we just want some "commenters."

Can you believe he would nominate his...personal lawyer??

I've had three personal lawyers in my 52 years. The first two Thieves deserve Life on the Electric Chair and the third Thief sued the second Thief because he cost me six figures in a lawsuit I, supposedly, WON!

The third? I won a rather large settlement against Thief #2 . . . but by the time Thief #3 got his "expenses" and percentage of the judgment I only had enough moola left for a loaf of bread and some baloney.

That was ten years ago . . . I've since sued my brother and adopted his five children, probated Wills, and did all the various things associated with buying a home, duking it out with the Veteran's Administration and Social Security, and filed two restraining orders against some geriatric punk I'm getting damn sick of because he's fixated on my eldest daughter . . . all without the need to hire another Thief.

I've done it all by researching crapola online and enlisting my brilliant children to help likewise. I haven't lost a round in court yet but, as they say, you usually get what you pay for. LOL.

In the spirit of TOTAL HONESTY however . . . I must admit there is one lawyer in Austin, Texas who must be the ABSOLUTE BEST LAWYER IN THE WORLD. She read of my troubles with my brother in the local paper . . . and she spent countless and UNBILLED hours steering me in the right direction. She's served as my FREE legal mentor ever since.

Oh, by the way, she's now my daughter-in-law. Cheaper to do that than pay her. LOL.

. . . the story makes it sound as if she was a stripper.

Or worse. I agree . . . a very poorly written article.

I'm new at the Papa-Game so please indulge this disabled Village Idiot while I brag a bit.

I adopted my nieces and nephews a few years ago. It's been a challenge for us all . . . both financially and culturally because of my disabilities and my lifelong bachelor-hood.

My youngest's thirteenth birthday was in August. I heard her talking to her older sister a couple of months ago about some name-brand sneakers she "would die for." I saved my pennies and bought her the shoes for her birthday.

A week later she was an hour late coming home from school. We live only three blocks from school so the children walk to and from class. I WAS FRANTIC!! All kinds of sordid thoughts were ping-ponging around in my noodle!

I sometimes have to use a wheelchair and, after calling the local police, I rolled back and forth to her shool twice looking for her. I was about to call the FBI . . . LOL, though I didn't think it funny at the time . . . when a friend called, saying my child was safe and with her. My friend is an assistant manager at the local WalMart.

My eldest and I loaded up and sped to WalMart . . . it's about two miles from our home.

When we arrived, my soon-to-be-grounded-for-life daughter was waiting patiently by the information counter . . . loaded down with four shoe boxes my friend said she refused to put down.

The little stinker had walked to WalMart!! It's on a busy highway! I was boiling mad.

Then . . . I went from a volcano about to explode to a wimpering old Village Idiot in seconds.

My lovely child has good ears as well . . . she heard me and my eldest daughter discussing finances one time.

This Beautifu Blessing had taken back her $100+ shoes to WalMart and bought her and her three brothers and sisters all new pairs of school shoes. The little snot had even stolen a pair of each of her brothers and sisters shoes so she would know what size to get everyone.

So . . . maybe some folks have to buy their children $50,000 treehouses to feel good. My youngest made me feel like a REAL DAD and I only spent about twenty-five bucks a child.

I HAVE THE ABSOLUTE BEST CHILDREN IN THE WORLD!!!

Remember . . . LOL . . . I asked for your indulgement in the very first sentence of this novel.

It's going to be a long time. I think you need to also factor in the cultural resistance of the Arab world to moving towards a different kind of society where people are less controlled and put down...of course in that time our society could revert to that.

Never has a sadder but truer commentary been written. War was declared on us long ago . . . our only choice is where we fight this war.

Lets also remember it wasn't until 1920 that women were allowed to vote in federal elections.

Good point. Yet we're so impatient with the Iraqis. I understand why the Libbers are impatient . . . because their anti-anything GW is for . . . but I don't understand why many conservatives are becoming impatient.

War was declared on us long, long ago by these Muslim Radical Pukes. To me, our only choice is whether we fight the war on their turf . . . or on the streets of EVERDAY America.

I don't want my children and grandchildren dodging bombs like Israeli children.

Wow! You're making way, way, way too damn much sense this early in the morning. LOL.

While I agree with your EXCELLENT analysis . . . not that it does any good to the leftist liberals . . . I try to always remind my fellow Americans what was entailed in our own struggle for independence.

Reasonable folks can disagree about when our own struggle started but most agree it started in 1764 -- when the Sugar Act was passed by the English Parliament to pay for the French and Indian War.

We all know we declared our Independence in 1776 but how many know our own Military Officers nearly rebelled against the authority of Congress in 1783 because of financial promises not kept . . . only to be dissuaded by George Washington?

Or that Rhode Island voted AGAINST the Constitution? Seems Senator Chafee's RINO roots go back a long ways, huh? LOL.

Or that the Constitution wasn't ruled to be "in effect" until 1788?

Or that George Washington wasn't sworn in as our First President until April 30, 1789?

And that we had another little tussle with Great Britain in 1812?

So . . . from AT LEAST 1764 to 1812 . . . we struggled for our own Independence. If my math is correct, that's 48 years. Yet we're now impatient with the Iraqis who have lived under tyranny for hundreds of years.

If Hillary runs, I'd be tempted to take a sabbatical in 2008, and set up in America for a year just to help campaign against her.

Come on down. I'll provide living quarters and an office for you in God's Country.

They should OUTLAW the media from going in if they are going to take precious hotel rooms from residents trying to get out harm's way.

Amen, Sister.

Thankfully, for the sake of rational discourse between actual adults, everywhere: attempting to dodge a brace of (doubtless) embarrassing and/or inconvenient questions by squeaking "rant" doesn't actually transform said queries into rants.

Kent, it's much, much too early in the morning for you to be making so much sense. LOL. Better to save such sage reasoning for when your fellow FReepers have had their morning constitutional, their first doses of java, and have finally pried their top eyelids from their bottom ones.

You obviously don't know the unofficial Official rule of FReeperism . . . don't ever try to debate using common sense before 9:00 AM CST. Better to try the ranting emotional angle before the official "start-time" for Adult FReepers to join the fray.

But . . . in spite of your timing problems . . . good job anyway and I agree with you 100%.