Just When I Thought I Was Out…

They suck me back in! Sorry – I'm channeling my inner Pacino.

So, the real and true Deputy Commander comes back from vacation, only to leave the very next day for a commander's conference. He went with the hospital commander and the other deputies, leaving poor old me as not just the deputy commander, but the actual frikkin' hospital commander. This is really gonna screw with my nap time.

So, big deal, right? Wrong! It rained today. What does 8 months of dust plus 4 inches of rain equal? It equals a total generator shut down. Not just the main generator, mind you, but the back up as well. Imagine running a hospital with NO POWER. I don't have to imagine it, because I'm living it.

Obviously, since I have time to post this, the power came back up. Still, there were a few tense moments - like the patient in the OR. When I got there, the surgeons were operating with coal-miner head lamps attached to their foreheads.

Now, if you haven't already been there, go read about The Wife's infidelity. I knew I was asking for trouble by marrying a hot chick.

Relief!

Well, my time as the head honcho has come to a close. The Deputy Commander has returned from his vacation in Hawaii and I get to return to the simple life of a combat radiologist. My wife will be happy because I’ll get to call home at my usual time again (as opposed to after when the kids should be in bed), and I’ll be happy because I get to go back to the schedule I had before all this nonsense.

As most of you know, this job did wonders for my overlarge ego. While I’ll miss that part of the job, I won’t miss the hours and the personnel issues. After one month of this I can honestly say:

I did my best.
I’m glad it’s done.

Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m off to the gym to resume my normal workout schedule. Actually, I was able to work out every day as the Deputy Commander, but it came at the price of rushed meals and fewer hours of sleep at night. No More!

Quick Thoughts

Thanks to Brett Favre and the Packers for a great season. It surprised me how much I cared when I saw the Giants hit that field goal in overtime. It sucks that the last pass Favre may ever throw was an interception. I sure hope he comes back.

I played in a 3-on-3 basketball competition yesterday. We got knocked out in the 1st round by the team that went on to the finals. I’m in pretty good shape, but I never claimed to be a basketball star. It didn’t help that I was the tallest one on my team.

Right after the game I walked by the ER and saw a friend in one of the beds. Her doc was waiting on me to read her CT scan. It turns out that she had a kidney infection that went bad. The infection has spread to her liver and now we have to send her out of Baghdad to the next higher level of care. You are probably thinking she must have been really sick, right? She was laughing and joking. She told me she knew there was a problem because she had to cut her normal hour in the gym down to 30 minutes and she was feeling “a little fatigued” after 2 hours of Salsa lessons last night.

Soldiers sure are tough, eh? Well, even though that’s true, I’m forced to admit that she’s in the Air Force. Sis, you can now feel free to gloat.

Accused

I've been known to say what's on my mind. Sometimes I do it for effect. Other times I'm just spouting off whatever is in my head. I have, in the past, said things to people that in retrospect they didn't need to hear. I think we've all done that.

Last night, one of my best friends out here told me I've got a big mouth. One of our mutual friends came to her and told her to tell me that I shouldn't discuss things that happen at poker night with the Command. Apparently, one of the Command Team came to this other friend with knowledge of something that happened at poker night (presumably something bad) and the only way they could have found out was if I had said something. She refused to tell me who it was or what it was I allegedly said.

Again, I'm capable to committing this "crime." I just hate not being able to defend myself against a specific accusation, especially to someone I consider a friend. Yet, she was willing to stand by our other friend.

As I type this it seems like petty high school stuff. I'm just annoyed. Sorry. Go away and read someone entertaining like Pauly.

PS. The answer to yesterday's Name Test was… ALL are true names I've seen this week.

Name Test

Soldiers are required to wear their nametape over their right shirtpocket when in uniform. Here is a list of last names I saw in the lastweek. Guess which one I made up:

KLING
CHALK
LUCK
WONKKA
BITSILLY

Diet Coke

“Hello. My name is Dr. Chako, and I’m an addict.”

“HI, DR. CHAKO!”

One of my big fears about coming to Iraq was whether or not I was going to have access to Diet Coke. I drink between 3 and 6 cans or bottles a day back home. I rarely drink coffee, so this is my main source of caffeine. It turns out that I had no reason to fear. Our dining facility was well stocked. I just go to breakfast and load up my pockets with all the cans I can carry and head out on my merry way.

Until last month.

For some reason, the Diet Coke disappeared. All they had was Diet Pepsi. You fellow Coke drinkers out there (and perhaps even you Pepsi drinkers) know that there is a HUGE difference between the two. I’ll drink the DP in a pinch, and only with the knowledge that it’s a poor substitute at best. Habituation is a powerful thing.

This morning I came into my office to find a fridge stocked with Diet Coke. It seems my NCOIC (my office manager) went out in search of Diet Coke and brought me back a whole bunch from a dining facility an hour away.

I’m not used to being taken care of like this (no offense, honey). I’m not saying my NCOIC is going to get an award JUST for bringing me Diet Coke, but it’s this level of caring in everything she does that has me staying up late to make sure her award write-up reflects just how outstanding she really is.

Kicking My Ass

Doing two full time jobs is rewarding when they both go well, but frustrating because there just aren't enough hours in the day. Add to that my total radiology system crash (down for 5 days) and playing catch-up over the last week, plus a surprise inspection from the higher-than-higher headquarters (passed with flying colors) and you have a stressed out Dr. Chako. Even The Wife has noted that I barely have time to chat on the phone these days.

The comment was made recently that I seem to be letting the power go to my head. Well, I wasn't the idiot who gave the egomaniac real power, was I? No. I'm just the egomaniac acting according to my nature. At least I'm aware of the problem.

I got the big push from the hospital commander today to Stay Army. He is bewildered why someone with 15+ years toward retirement would even consider getting out. I told him quite honestly that I've loved my time in the Army and would do it all again. It's just that now is not the right time. I can easily see myself coming back into the Army in 5 or ten years and finishing out my career. It's just that right now it's time to follow The Wife on her quest to be the best Public Accountant she can be. While we are at it, I should be able to get a good taste of what being a real-life radiologist is all about.

2008 will be quite the turbulent year:

• I return from Iraq a War Hero (well, how about I just get home and be a husband and Dad again, m'kay?)
• I get out of the Army – I've known no other life for the past 21 years
• We likely move – possibly overseas (although I hope not)
• The kids have to say goodbye to some really good friends – when my oldest talks to me on the phone he always says, "You're the best Dad ever." I'm afraid moving may change that to, "You ruined my life."
• The Wife (hopefully) makes Partner – I've seen some partners become total slackers. I promise you that won't be The Wife. If anything, she'll pick up the pace.
• We will also probably have to interview for a new nanny/Au pair.

It's a good thing we have one helluva team, The Wife and I. You should see us when we are actually in the same country!

Rules For a Gunfight

The Iraqi Hammer

I have pocket 10s in late position and I raise to 3.5 times the big blind. The small blind calls because that’s what she does.

The flop is A K J rainbow. The small blind checks, because, well… that’s what she does. I’ve seen her check call the river with the mortal nuts at least twice.

I bet almost the size of the pot. She hesitates a moment and says, “All in!”

Did this weak-assed player just check raise me? Okay. Wait a minute. Have I ever seen her check raise? I do a quick mental review of all the hands we’ve played together over the last few months. I’ve never seen this. I have no idea what to do. Scary board.

Fold.

She smiles at me, flips her cards and says, “You’ve been Hammered!” 7 2 off-suit. Why the hell did I introduce this concept to these poor excuses for poker players?

Did I mention that she’s our chaplain? I got hammered by the chaplain.

The Surge is Working

Now that I sit in the Big Chair, I get briefed about workload throughout the hospital. Everyone saw about 10% fewer patients in the last month and a half. Many are ready to chalk this up to success with the surge and I tend to agree, as least in part. It could also be the fact that the weather is not conducive to bad guys running amok.

Get this – it’s snowing right now! Big, fat, fluffy flakes. One more surreal thing to add to this deployment. On my 1.5 mile walk to and from breakfast this morning, I looked with wonder at the flakes coming down in the moonlight. I must admit I even caught a few on my tongue until I thought better of it. Who knows what’s floating in the air here?

I promise to have a poker post up soon, including a picture of the player of the year board. I’m way ahead in points right now.

Top 5 Things I'd like an Automated Machine to Say

I only have one. It would be my answering machine here in Iraq.

"Hi. This is the Deputy Commander. I bet you think your issue is important and right now you are just counting the seconds until you can leave it on my machine. I ask that instead you use this time to consider that I really don't care about your piddly-assed complaint. In the time it takes you to tell me about it, you could have probably solved it yourself with those awesome people skills you learned in kindergarten. If you still feel you MUST tell me of your issue, leave it after the beep. Who knows, I might actually get a chuckle out of it before hitting DELETE.

Beeeep……

My World Map

I love Sitemeter. It's cool to find out that my readership has spiked since I've been deployed to Iraq. It's also cool to see where my readership comes from.

Big shout out to my Korean reader. Hey sis!

Who the hell reads this stuff in Austrailia? Oh wait, isn't there some kind of big tournament going on down there right about now?

Today I am Angry

I spent most of the day today chasing my tail. We have a debilitated patient who no longer requires medical care and has been approved to be released to his family. This approval came last week. When I came in this morning, I saw the patient was still here. Perhaps he is just waiting on transportation?

No. The reason he is still here is because the police unit that actually does the transfer unilaterally decided that his medical problems were such that he should be transferred to a hospital, not to his family.

Hello? I am a board certified physician. I consulted with multiple other board certified physicians in multiple other specialties prior to making this decision. Who the fuck are you to tell me where to send my patient? A cop? Are you fucking serious?

But wait. It gets better. The cops made this decision 4 days ago and DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT IT. So this patient has been sitting in a crowded hospital, taking up bed space, because some idiot "decided" the transfer didn't make sense.

Well, after some extremely diplomatic emails (I had to delete all the curse words prior to hitting SEND), I finally convinced the cops that we actually know what we are doing over here at the hospital. They have just now agreed that we can send the patient to his family. This process consumed 8 hours of my day today.

Just another day at the office.

How to Get Your Boss to do Whatever You Want

In today's lesson, we will learn how to get your boss to do whatever you want. The easiest way is to show some examples of how NOT to do this.

Your boss has a short attention span (I realize this is a generalization, but it's almost always true). Do NOT start your impromptu meeting with the phrase, "I just need 20 minutes."

If you REALLY need 20 minutes, schedule a meeting. Practice your discussion ahead of time so it doesn't go longer. It would be better to say you needed 30 minutes and finish ahead of time.

If after 45 minutes in your curbside meeting you still haven't made your point, you have crossed the point of diminishing returns. Your boss is now imagining shoving a dagger through your eye.

During this meeting, if your boss asks for the official policy on your issue and you hand him the policy, if would be a good idea if you told him ahead of time that:

a. This wasn't actually the official policy, even though it's on official letterhead, and

b. The reason it's not the official policy is because you JUST FUCKING MADE IT UP YOURSELF AND PASTED IT ONTO OFFICIAL LETTERHEAD.

Finally, make sure your issue is as important to your boss as it is to you. Finding a way to save $10,000 is great, but not if it costs $20,000 to do it YOU MORON.

Tomorrow we will learn how to get your way with your wife. I'll give you that lesson just as soon as my wife gives me the manual.

Helpless

Finding out your nanny was in a car accident – scary.

Finding out the car was hit in the rear door, right where your kid sits – terrifying.

Being 8000 miles away in the fucking desert of Iraq when you get this information – no words can describe this feeling.

Calling home to find out that the kids were not in the car and the nanny is only bruised and scared – whew!

Channeling Spock

First off, thanks for all of your replies to my thought provoking post yesterday. We are letting him go. I say "we" because I don't make this decision in a vacuum. A general officer gets the final say after all of his advisors make our recommendations. I pray this young man dies peacefully, even if he is a bad guy. If he uses his last few days on Earth to hurt people, I'm going to feel like shit.

Now on to my next problem.

We have a dirtbag soldier. Compounding this problem is the fact that she is a senior non-commissioned officer (NCO). She is being removed from her job and I found out second hand that she is being placed in charge of my emergency room. We have an outstanding NCO already in charge there and this would be a very disruptive force. What bothers me is that I wasn't even consulted on this decision. I guess that's par for the course when you are the ACTING Deputy Commander as opposed to the full-time Deputy Commander.

Well, I managed to arrange a meeting with all of the deputies and the commander and convinced the commander not to make a final decision until each of his advisors had a chance to give him input.

During the meeting, I began to realize that this soldier was being forced on me whether I liked it or not, even before I had a chance to get a word in edgewise. Well, what's a good deputy supposed to do when faced with this situation?

I stood up and prepared to walk out of the meeting in mid-discussion. I grabbed the door handle and turned to face the crowd. In my most logical voice I calmly said, "It looks like we are trying to accommodate this soldier at the expense of an entire department. I disagree with this plan. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one."

Then I walked out.

Don't laugh too hard. I just found out she is being assigned to a completely different section out of my area.

Playing God

Happy New Year, everyone! We had an awesome bon fire, karaoke and non-alcoholic champagne to ring in the New Year. It was a helluva party until some idiots started throwing empty cans of silly string into the bon fire. Fortunately no one was injured. Still, there was a lot more duck-and-cover then I usually like in a war zone.

So, New Year's Day greets me with some interesting tasks. I'm struggling with how to tell this story because it's quite unbelievable, even to me. Rather than try to spin a good yarn, I'll just lay out the facts.

We have a young detainee (in his 20s) with one huge tumor in his chest and a bunch of smaller tumors in his lung. It turns out he had a bone cancer as a child. Sometimes these kids get either recurrent disease or a new cancer like lymphoma. We don't know exactly what it is and we really don't have the equipment needed to find out.

He's going to die unless someone figures out what this mass is made of.

In my new job as chief of staff, I can request a Compassionate Release. This is reserved for detainees (note that we don't call them prisoners) whose conditions have worsened significantly since their capture and who would probably not be able to participate in the insurgency if they are released. He seems like a good candidate, right?

So today I get a question from Legal, "Umm, do you think there is any chance of him recovering if he gets the care he needs after he's released?"

It's a good but difficult question. Based on what I know of the Iraqi healthcare system, the odds of him getting the appropriate care are pretty slim. But assuming he got to a good doctor and assuming this is something treatable like lymphoma, then yes, he could recover.

"Umm, do you think he could recover enough to participate in the insurgency?"

Think about my dilemma for a second. I am a physician sworn to care for patients and Do No Harm. If I say he CAN'T recover, he can be compassionately released (and potentially get the care he needs to recover). If I say he CAN recover, they won't let him go and he will surely die.

Before you decide what I should do, would it change your mind to know that he killed a bunch of soldiers? What if he was just an innocent bystander?

After you've got that figured out, tell me what to do with my other 20 year old with the 6 centimeter brain tumor. In this case, I KNOW he's a Bad Guy.

Good Vibrations

Our company commander is a really nice guy. Simple, but nice. He gets flustered easily, but he's good natured about it.

We have a psychiatry tech who everyone loves. She's quirky, but in a good way. In fact, she's the one who introduced me to the Sandman series that I've been reading voraciously (and intend to buy as soon as I get back).

Well, for whatever reason, she decided she had an important question for her commander. So right in front of everyone, she calls him on the phone and asks this all important question.

"Am I going to have trouble getting my vibrator through customs?"

Based on her reaction, her question must have been greeted by silence followed by some pretty uncomfortable stammering. I very much wish I could have seen his face.

Well, he must have recovered enough to ask some pertinent questions that might help him give an answer. Because no one could hear his side of the conversation, we're not entirely sure how he asked the next question, but the tech's response was, "Well, it's a Rabbit and it's really expensive, so I don't want to just leave it here!"

We each have our pressing issues, I guess.

Have No Fear - I'm in Charge!

For the next three weeks, I'm the chief of staff for the entire hospital. For the doctors I work with, this means I go from friend to boss. I've made this transition before, and I'm pretty good at it. Besides, doctors shouldn't need any real "managing," right?

Let me tell you something – doctors are the biggest crybabies, whiners and complainers you could possibly imagine. Add to the mix narcissism and a God-complex and you have the ingredients for tons of fun.

I wasn't in the job for 30 minutes when there was screaming in the OR. One of the docs got into it with one of the techs. Accusations of inappropriate cursing (as opposed to the appropriate kind), and even racism came up. It's my job to sort everything out, hand out punishment where necessary and get everyone back to a point where we can get along enough to continue our mission of patient care.

In the middle of all of this, a patient shows up with shrapnel injuries. We think he's a BAD GUY, but he didn't come with paperwork. (As an aside, I know many of my readers have jobs where they deal with paperwork. Have you ever wondered what would happen if some paperwork didn't get filed correctly? Probably nothing, right?)

In this case, with no paperwork, we have no legal right to detain him. If his injuries are not life-threatening, we are required to LET HIM GO HOME. Let me rephrase that – I (meaning ME) am required to let him go.

Well, it all ended well. In the time it took to finish with his medical needs, his paperwork finally showed up. Still, it was a tense few hours.

This was just my first day on the job. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Christmas Cheer and Guard Duty

We had our hospital Christmas party last night and it was pretty cool. It was well attended (what else do we have to do?), and there was good food (pizza), holiday movies and even a trivia contest – officers vs. enlisted. The officers pulled an early lead thanks to my guess of 1895 as the year Christmas lights were first used as decoration, but we eventually fell to the enlisted who pummeled us with their insane knowledge of the movie A Christmas Story. I wonder if the fact that three of the four officers on our side were Jewish had anything to do with it… Afterwards, I broke out the guitar and played Christmas carols and requests. Nothing says Christmas like Billy Joel and Jimmy Buffett.

This morning was Christmas morning of course. On my normal walk to the chow hall, I always have to stop and show my ID card to the gate guard. It's usually the same team every morning, but today was different. Today it was the company commander who was all smiles as he shot me a salute and greeted me with a hearty, "Merry Christmas, sir!" His Christmas present to his soldiers was to give them the day off so they could sleep in and call their families. I also found out that their Command Sergeant Major was pulling shifts in the guard tower.

I may be Jewish, but I'm pretty sure this is what Christmas is all about.

I am a Dirty Old Man

We just had Open Mike Night here in Iraq. It was in an outdoor tent at 8pm and it was 40 degrees outside. My hands are just now thawing out. Unfortunately, I didn't get to play the Steve Earle guitar because I couldn't get back to my office in time to get it, but one young soldier player Copperhead Road, so Steve was there in spirit.

Open Mike Nights are an absolute blast. I never resist a chance to get up on stage, but this one was special. There is a young enlisted soldier who plays a mean lead guitar and a young nurse who's a helluva singer and they asked me to join in. We rehearsed 5 songs and got to play them all. If you are wondering, the set list was:

Kiss Me – Jewel
Santa Baby – (which I always thought was done by Marilyn Monroe until I read the Wikipedia page) – Eartha Kitt
Original Piece (sorry can't remember the name) - SPC Barrows
Peaceful Easy Feeling – Eagles
Hold My Hand – Hootie and the Blowfish

I must say, we rocked the house. The harmonies were excellent. The sound was perfect. The crowd was raucous. That last part may have just been just to keep warm, but I'd like to think they were also having a good time.

Now comes the Dirty Old Man part. Talent comes in many forms. We had singers and poetry readings. We also had dancing. A group of young black soldiers got up to dance to some Cupid song (I realize I'm totally a nerd for not knowing the song or even the type of music, other than it was probably Hip Hop. Give me a break. I'm a 40 year old Jewish doctor. Get the hell off my lawn!)

Anyway, do you remember the scene in Dirty Dancing? The one where Jennifer Grey gets to look into some real dancing behind closed doors? It had a… feeling to it. It was like it was privileged information, and you felt like this was something you shouldn't be seeing. At the same time, you were mesmerized.

Jeez, this is going to sound so cliché, but black women can dance. I know. The sky is blue and cold beer tastes good. Give me a break already. I don't go to clubs and maybe since I've been without my wife for 3 ½ months it was more enticing than it should have been. Still, I felt privileged for getting a glimpse of something I would otherwise never have been able to see. I even suspect that if I walked into an all black night club the dancing would immediately change so I would never get a chance to see this kind of movement.

It's silly, but I half wanted to go up to these women and thank them personally for allowing me (and the other 60 soldiers in the crowd) to watch this.

But then everyone would know I'm a dirty old man.

Tito Ortiz is the Man!

My son is gonna lose it when he sees this picture. Tito Ortiz from the Ultimate Fighting Championship is his ultimate hero (after me, I think). My hat is off to Tito and his training partner Justin "Nsane1" McCully for coming out here to Iraq to support the troops.

And no, Tito didn't bring his girlfriend .

Trivia Answers and More Anti-Semitism

A quick search of Wikipedia reveals the answer to my trivia question from yesterday. To recap, the question was, who said, "The Jews, as a class violating every regulation of trade established by the Treasury Department and also department orders, are hereby expelled from [the "Department of the Tennessee," an administrative district of the Union Army of occupation composed of the portions of Kentucky and Tennessee west of the Tennessee River, and Union-controlled areas of northern Mississippi] within twenty-four hours from the receipt of this order.

Answer: Ulysses S. Grant December 17 th, 1862

For some more interesting historical anti-Semitism, I recall an ex-girlfriend when I post about this next person:

He argued that the Jews were no longer the chosen people, but were "the devil's people." They were "base, whoring people, that is, no people of God, and their boast of lineage, circumcision, and law must be accounted as filth." The synagogue was a "defiled bride, yes, an incorrigible whore and an evil slut ..." and Jews were full of the "devil's feces ... which they wallow in like swine." He advocated setting synagogues on fire, destroying Jewish prayerbooks, forbidding rabbis from preaching, seizing Jews' property and money, smashing up their homes, and ensuring that these "poisonous envenomed worms" be forced into labor or expelled "for all time." He also seemed to sanction their murder, writing, "We are at fault in not slaying them."

Who said this? Why, it was Martin Luther , the founder of Protestantism.

Editor's note: Due to complexities of posting remotely, and other unforseen internet issues, this post should have come before the previous one. It was lost in the ether somewhere and has only reappeared recently. My apologies to all, for any confusion.

But then, again, the content is free . . .

Back to Nonsense

I got a little political and religious in those last two posts. Sorry 'bout that. I'll try not to let it happen again. See what happens when you surf around Wikipedia?

Anyway, it's a short post today. After reading this Head CT on a young soldier who is seizing, I'm off to play chess. I sucked right out loud in the last two tournaments, so I'm hoping to regain the honor of a past champion.

I'd like to leave you with this great quote I just read on Google quotes:

Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see. - Arthur Schopenhauer

General Orders #1 and #11

For you military-minded folks, you may remember your three general orders. General Order #1, which every basic trainee has to memorize or be killed with endless push-ups is:

I will guard everything within the limits of my post and quit my post only when properly relieved.

Well, the command has developed a new General Order #1. This order is the one that keeps us from gambling for money and having sex while deployed. Let's just say I know of a few violations of this particular order (although not by me – I told you, I'm a goody-goody).

I just found out about General Order #11. Trivia question for the day: Who wrote it?

The Jews, as a class violating every regulation of trade established by the Treasury Department and also department orders, are hereby expelled from... Tennessee within twenty-four hours from the receipt of this order.

Post commanders will see to it that all of this class of people be furnished passes and required to leave, and any one returning after such notification will be arrested and held in confinement until an opportunity occurs of sending them out as prisoners, unless furnished with permit from headquarters. No passes will be given these people to visit headquarters for the purpose of making personal application of trade permits.

Poker Content, Iraq Style!

I haven't posted about poker in a while, so it's about time. As you may remember, we play poker here every Wednesday and Saturday night. We are not allowed to play for money, so at first glance this may not seem as interesting as a big cash game, but you'd be underestimating the competitiveness of soldiers.

I have developed the perfect table image, but I think I ruined it last night with this hand. Everyone has been commenting at how much I bluff in the beginning of games. They are mistaking bluffing for tight aggressive play, which is exactly what I want them to think. They play classic home-game poker, which means almost everyone limps in on every hand. What they don't see is that I play only one or two hands per orbit, and sometimes I've folded 10 hands or more in a row. With our blind structure you can't wait too long, but I'm way ahead on the Big Board of 1 st and 2nd place finishes, so I must be doing something right.

Anyway, much like a home game, a raise can mean anything, but a re-raise is something to pay attention to, especially when you know who is doing the re-raising. I look down at pocket Queens under the gun and raise to 3.5 times the big blind which is a huge raise in this game. I see weak player number one contemplating a call, when I say, "What are you doing? You don't want a lot of people in this hand. You should re-raise!" He stops for a second and says, "Okay. Re-raise!" He doubles my raise. Beware the min raise!

Now LAG in the next position (whose nickname is Hot Nuts) goes "All-in!" He could have any two cards at this point. He just hates when someone raises before it gets to him. I'm liking my chances at this point. But wait! The chaplain, sitting to my immediate right goes, "Okay, I'm all in, too." She such a nice girl, but so horrible at poker that you just can't believe. Her nickname is Queen High, because she won two tournaments with that same hand. She never goes all-in or re-raises without the nuts.

Well, shoot! What am I supposed to do with my Queens now, dammit? They hit the muck so fast it would make your head spin. Well, they should have hit the muck, but instead, I showed them to Ken Alphabet, which meant I had to show my laydown to everyone else, too.

Three all-ins:
Germ (the min re-raiser) – Pocket Aces
Hot Nuts – Ace 8 off-suit (?!)
Chaplain (AKA Queen High) – Pocket Kings

The Aces won the hand. My queens would have been junk. I'd like to say I went on to win it all after my great laydown, but I'd be lying. Still, it was one of the biggest preflop laydowns I've ever made. I just need to control my ego to the point where I don't need to show everyone. No need giving them additional information, right?

Of course, I'm giving it to you for free.

Flintstone Village

This has to be one of the most surreal things I've seen. I still can't get my mind around it. I've mentioned that crazy Saddam decided to build his own personal zoo. You'd think that was crazy enough, but apparently not. It turns out he was a fan of the Flintstones. Honest. Well, what's a crazy rich guy to do when it comes to giving a gift to his grandkids? Why he'll just built them an acre-sized playground of caves and tunnels so they can pretend they are in the Flintstones cartoon. This is just nuts.

Thank You

I just saw the picture of the guitar with all of your signatures. Sean , you did an amazing thing here. Thanks to all the bloggers for everything – for signing the guitar, for making me feel like I'm doing important work, for making The Wife feel welcome and for giving me something to look forward to - the next WPBT gathering.

So, from this lonely soldier to all of you I say, "thank you."

Random Thoughts

First off, I'm loving the trip reports. Things here can get boring at times (although not tonight), so it great to read the stories. Keep 'em coming.

As I write this I am about 10 feet from a very dead bad guy. His limbs are most certainly pointing in the wrong direction. Just another day at the office.

Our hallways are decorated with greeting cards from literally thousands of folks back home who just wanted to send cards to deployed troops. My favorite is a bright blue card from a kid named Jimmy.

Jimmy writes, "I am very proud you are a soldier. I really like that you are keeping us safe. I hope you win so someday America can be free."

Trip Reports, Please!

Well, tales of Vegas debauchery are slowing starting to trickle in. It sounds like there was an incredible turn out and a final table of bloggerdom all-stars. Let's hear about it while it's still fresh, people!

Oh yeah, and someone had better explain what the hell the Rooster was doing kissing my wife. WTF?! Where were all her chaperones?!

A Day that Will Live in Infamy

Besides being the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, it's also Hump Day for my deployment. That's right – I'm half-way done!

Good luck in Vegas, everyone. I'll be there in spirit.

Happy Chanukah!

Tonight is the first night of Chanukah and I just got off the phone with my very excited family. Before I left for Iraq, we purchased a Wii, and, rather than wait to the last night (the night we traditionally open the coolest present), my wife had them open it tonight.

While I'm talking with my wife on the phone, in the background I hear my oldest son teaching my youngest to play tennis. It must be a new kind of tennis because I can hear my 5 year old yelling, "Die, sucker. Die!"

Sad Day Today

I never claimed to be a great scribe. I'm jealous of those more eloquent than I , especially at times like these. You see, I lost my uncle today. He was a Great Man (capital letters intended). When I picture larger than life people, he's in that crowd. Everything about him was big – his waistline, his appetites, his lifestyle, his philosophies.

Here is an excerpt of what I wrote to my dad:

I can hear his laugh. He had a distinctive scraping noise he made in the back of his throat before laughing out loud. Big eyes. Big heart. Great laugh.
I will always picture him in the great recliner in his den in the house in White Plains watching the New York Giants on the big TV (before anyone else had a big TV).
I will always remember the engaging conversations about the market. He would get so excited that his words would sometimes not keep up with his thoughts. It was occasionally hard to follow him, but you could tell he was passionate and excited and since he felt it was important, you tried even harder to understand.

This is especially hard for me now. As most of you know, I am 8000 miles away in this God-forsaken desert of Iraq. If you know me well, you know how important family is to me. This is a time to be close to family, and I can't be there. It tears me up inside. I called, and that helped, but nothing beats a hug and a meal and listening to the stories that are being told in close quarters right now.

Rest in Peace, Unc. You earned it.

Carlos Mencia

Well, I took a break from strumming my new guitar (quite hard to leave it, actually) to go to a USO show. Our last show was Bret Michaels from Poison fame and it was very cool. This show had twice as many soldiers in the stands. It was an absolute nut house.

I got there about 2 ½ hours early due to a miscommunication with some friends. There was already about a hundred soldiers scooping up the good seats and I got one with a nice cushion. After a few minutes, a young soldier sat down next to me and we started chatting. He's Alabama National Guard and it's his job to guard convoys along the most dangerous road in the world. He has only been here two days and he already had to fire shots. He always provides security in the rear. Since convoys are slow, Iraqi motorists can get frustrated. Apparently, a man and woman in a car sped up along the shoulder in an ill-advised attempt to pass the convoy. He showed them his weapon. They kept coming. He took aim. Still they came. Finally, he fired into their engine. Smoke came up and the car trickled to a stop. Just another day in Iraq.

The concert was fantastic. Brad Williamson was his warm up. He's the dwarf that is usually on the show (Mind of Mencia). He had some really great stuff about being a little person and he talked about stereotypes and how he is perceived by kids and adults of different ethnicities. He had us all cracking up.

Carlos was his hysterical self. He mentioned that he hadn't been here before now because the "powers that be" asked him to tone down his show. He refused, so he didn't get to come. Finally, the powers relented and he agreed to come. There was no toning down in this show, believe me. We all had a great time, including Carlos. He stayed afterwards and signed autographs and chatted with literally hundreds of soldiers.

I was a fan before. I'm a huge fan now.

The Gift

Sometimes you get gifts and you think, "Great. Another tie." You give that overly pleased smile and a hearty "Thanks!" The gift is forgotten almost as soon as you move onto the next present.

Sometimes you get a gift and are profoundly moved.

Today I received a rather large guitar-shaped box. I was very excited because I ordered a guitar from Operation Happy Note about 2 months ago, and I thought this was it.

I was wrong.

I knew something was strange when I saw the really cool hard case. It's actually a nicer case then the one I keep my Martin in back home. I opened it and was speechless. Inside is a beautiful Gibson/Epiphone acoustic guitar signed by none other than Steve Earle. For those of you who have never heard of Steve, you've certainly heard his music. He's played soundtracks for just about every movie worth watching (and some that perhaps weren't). He's probably better known for his anti-war views and outspoken political commentary. He's the guy who is willing to take on a different or unpopular view in order to challenge your way of thinking - sort of a Devil's Advocate on a larger stage.

In short, my kind of guy.

I certainly don't agree with all of his views, but we share the same spirit. I just learned we even shared an address, having both lived in Schertz, TX. In case you were wondering, Mr. Earle did not send this guitar.

I'd like to tell you the guy who DID send it. He's a writer and a journalist (not the same thing at all). He's a suburban Dad. He's a half-way decent poker player.

And he's my friend.

Brad, you may never know how much this means to me, but I hope to get the chance to tell you in person some day soon. And I promise, no matter how hard it will be to leave behind, it will continue to bring pleasure to deployed troubadours until the last one comes home.

Time

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of. – Benjamin Franklin

I was reading some trivia last night and the above quote was attributed to Bruce Lee. I had just recently read it on the internet and was pretty sure it was from ol' Ben Franklin and I was right. Regardless of who said it, it's a great quote. When I started this blog I used to put a quote of the day. Quotes are fascinating to me. A good quote is usually a great idea distilled into its simplest parts. There is even a quote about that – Brevity is the soul of wit. – William Shakespeare

I'll leave you with one thought and one more quote about time that I just discovered. My thought is this – I hate being away from family, especially during the holiday season. By the end of this deployment, I will have missed almost 10% of my youngest son's life. Still, I am coming to think of the time I am spending in Iraq as important time. Anyway, here is today's final quote about time:

To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time. – Leonard Bernstein

The Secret to a Good Night's Sleep

The secret to a good night's sleep is sheer exhaustion. I had a little free time yesterday so I decided to take one of my famous 15 minute naps. Three hours later, I woke up confused and disoriented. It was already dark and I was late for dinner. I was half way to chow (it's almost one mile away) before I realized I was terribly underdressed. This is a desert and a place of extremes. When I got here, I wrote a lot about how hot it was. Well, the cold temperatures have rolled in. It's in the 40's at night and most of us have broken out our fleece jackets. I was only wearing my tee-shirt.

After chow, we got together for the movie Wild Hogs. The climactic scene in this movie is flat-out hysterical. It made me want a motorcycle again. I've had my motorcycle license since 1987, but I haven't had a bike since college. Every time I think about getting a bike, I see another accident in the ER. On the other hand, deployed military get huge discounts on Harleys, and there is a dealer right here in Iraq.

Anyway, I was worried about sleeping last night since I took such a long nap (and I've got snoring Navy dude in my trailer), so I hit the gym for the second time yesterday. 1001 calories on the elliptical trainer and another set of triceps exercises, and I slept just fine. I even think I am seeing slimmer lines in my face. A few more months of this and I may actually be in shape again!

Before

After!

I Never Killed Anyone…

Actually, the full quote is, "I never killed anyone that didn't need killing." It was from John Wesley Hardin, one of the deadliest gunslingers ever. He's more famous for killing a man for snoring too loud.

My roommate finally moved in yesterday. You guessed it – he snored so friggin' loud it shook the trailer. I'm dragging some serious ass this morning. I usually sleep only 5 to 6 hours a night, and it has to be quality sleep. This is unacceptable.

Stories from Iraq

First of all, thanks for all your well-wishes on Turkey Day. It's a tough time to be away from home, especially since my honey was under the weather. I can't cook, but I sure can make up some chicken soup in an emergency. Get better soon, please.

Next, I just wanted to share a quick story from the cover of the Army Times today. As you know, we are helping rebuild Iraq so they can defend themselves in the future. We pretty much destroyed their Air Force during the initial assault. Well, they are back and better then ever. In fact, the cover of the paper shows an Air Force commander observing an Iraqi pilot check his new fighter plane.

A Cessna 172.

For you non-pilots out there, here is a picture:

List of 5s

I always am nervous about putting these lists out there for all to see. My family reads this, after all! What if I run for office some day? Oh well. Thanks to Sean for the tag. At least I have someone to blame if I get in trouble.

My 5 "Passes:"
5. Lynda Carter – What is she, like a hundred? Actually the Wiki says she's 56. I've been in love with her since I had her poster plastered on my paneled wall in my little room in New York.
4. Kandyse McClure – Absolutely beautiful.
3. Tricia Helfer – Can you tell I've been watching Battlestar Galactica?
2. Janine Lindemulder – Did I just put an adult film star on my list? Yes I did. It's my list dammit and I'll do what I want. Actually, I'm a bit weirded out by the sleeve tattoo, but I'd have no problem getting over it. Quickly.
1. Angelina Jolie – She's probably certifiably insane. I don't care. She's the most beautiful woman of our generation.

My Top 5 Favorite Movies:
5. Grease – I get all tingly when they pan up on Olivia Newton John when she's wearing the spandex.
4. Willow – Val Kilmer as Madmartigan. Billy Barty. A young Kevin Pollak. Priceless.
3. Monte Python – The Meaning of Life
2. Star Wars – The Original
1. The Princess Bride – I can still quote this movie almost verbatim

My Top 5 Favorite Albums of all time:
5. The Eagles – Greatest Hits
4. Jimmy Buffett - Margaritaville
3. Harry Belafonte – Live at Carnegie Hall (1960). As a quick aside, the Chad Mitchell Trio performed on this album. Even though he wasn't a member when the album was made, I just found out that John Denver was part of the trio!
2. Little River Band – Greatest Hits
1. James Taylor – Greatest Hits

I will not tag anyone else, 'cause that's how I roll.

The Zoo

I don't know much about this zoo. I've driven past it in the bus and it fascinates me. I'm told it was Saddam's personal zoo. He brought in all kinds of exotic animals and kept there right here. Rumor has it that after the invasion, the animals were all neglected and most of them escaped. One night while walking back from dinner, I saw some kind of animal by the Camp Cropper gate. I don't know if it was one of the exotics, but it sure scared the heck out of me.

Anyway, enjoy these pics of the zoo. I apologize for the lack of detail, but I shot them from the window of a moving bus.

Happy Birthday, Honey!

I had promised a post about the Zoo, but things here have been crazy, so it will have to wait until tomorrow. Instead, I get to use my little place on the internet to wish my beloved a happy birthday. I think this may be the first time we aren't together on her birthday in the 15+ years we've been together. Holidays and happy occasions are tough times to be deployed.

I wish I could have been there, honey. I'll do my very best trying to not miss another one.

I hope you enjoy your present. Let's see some pictures!

A Trip to the PX

We have a good PX on Camp Striker, but there is a bigger PX over on Camp Liberty. Unfortunately, it's an hour bus ride. I had the extra time today because I couldn't work out like I normally do. You see, there was NO WATER. Have you ever tried to run a hospital without water? I'm guessing no. Well, the water is back on now, so I'm headed to the gym to try and create some muscles to impress random Macedonian chicks.

Please enjoy these pics I took while riding on the bus.

Picture 1. Since this is a desert, these lakes aren't natural. We are pretty sure Saddam had them put in. I guess there were a few perks being supreme ruler after all. "Hey Achmed. Put a lake over there."

Picture 2. Small palaces surround the lake. They were probably for favored family and friends.

Picture 3. More of the same.

Picture 4. The big palace. One of them, at least.

Tomorrow: The Zoo.

Rant Day

Rant 1: I have a mandatory 4 hour on-line training course called Ethical Medical Treatment of Detainees. These damned detainees get far better treatment then you can possibly imagine. If they receive any unethical treatment, it's probably because some soldier was pissed off at having to do a 4 hour class on how to be ethical.

Rant 2: I have a Norelco electric razor. Don't ask me which model because I've long since forgotten. A little red light has come on telling me it's time to change the blades. The problem, of course, is that I'm in Iraq. There are no replacement blades here. The bigger problem is that the stupid red light sucks out the charge from the cordless razor and I don't have enough outlets to keep it charged all the time. I contacted Norelco's online help desk and they told me to switch the blades around to see if that makes the light go off (it didn't). They also suggested letting the charge run out and trying again (the light is still on). I will never buy another Norelco product. Piece of shit. I'm back to shaving with regular blades again.

Rant 3: I go to the gym every day, 7 days a week. I've done it for the entire time I've been here. There is a young girl from Macedonia that works behind the desk. She's very friendly and flirts with most of the young soldiers in the gym. I usually just say hello before starting my workout. Well, lately she has gotten more friendly. It was to the point where I actually asked someone if she was flirting with me (you'd think I'd know if I was being flirted with, but you can ask my wife, I'm clueless). My young Macedonian friend made her position quite clear yesterday. She came up to me, smiled, and said, "You come to the gym everyday. How come you don't have any muscles?"

Veterans Day

From a veteran in Iraq, I just wanted to say thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers.

More Pics

As a favor to a friend, I took some more pictures of my area. As I noted on my last photo dump, this place is pretty uninteresting. I found it unusual that there are these big trees in random places. I wouldn't expect that in the desert.

Picture 1: This is my new trailer on Camp Cropper. It's much closer to the hospital. I live in the door marked "B." It's nice to have a tree right outside my door.

Picture 2: The Big Tree. Every morning at 5:20 am, the birds in this tree start chirping. The sound is raucous. It truly goes from silence to deafening. They do it again around 5:30 in the evening, too.

Picture 3: This is my room in the trailer. The flag from Sean is a nice touch (but I think I have it hung backwards). The American flag he sent is just off screen.

Picture 4: This is me with my friend Jess, our Psychiatrist and my "battle buddy." The completely illegal shirts were also sent from Sean for some pimpage of his radio station, Rock 101 out of Lubbock, Texas. As you can see, we are just happy to be here.

Guitar

I have been playing guitar my whole life. At home, my best audience is my oldest son. I literally play guitar for him every night at bedtime (well, I did before I left for Iraq). I really miss playing for him and I miss my guitar, a Martin D-28 (feel free to ooh and ahh). I have no guitar out here, but there are many people who do. They either brought them over, bought there here in the local shop (these guitars suck) or they got them through something called Operation Happy Note. I requested a guitar from the Happy Note folks as well. If they come through, I think I will have found a charity I can totally get behind. Free musical instruments for deployed service members? That's one helluva good idea!

While I wait, I trade some playtime for guitar lessons. I actually have 4 students right now in various stages of learning. I use the same teaching style I learned from my dad. Teach them something that sounds good and they will want to keep playing it. Don't press. Compliment liberally. It's quite effective.

Well, I was paid the highest compliment a guitar teacher can get. One of my students is from Puerto Rico, and she wanted to learn a couple songs in Spanish. Having 6 years of Spanish lessons and an ear for guitar music made this pretty easy for me. Last night, a bunch of us were sitting around after our Wednesday night poker game and she picked up the guitar to show off a bit. One of her friends, someone who has played guitar for over 8 years, was quite impressed and asked how long she had been playing. I was bursting at the seams and answered for her.

Prior to last week, she had never picked up a guitar.

The Post Where He Quotes Dostoevsky

"The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons." Fyodor Dostoevsky

If prison conditions are the measure of a society, then we (meaning the U.S.) get high marks. I contend that no prison in the world offers as much for the interred as right here in Camp Cropper, Iraq. It's kind of funny really. Any complaint is addressed rapidly, no matter how minor. They have access to healthcare 24 hours a day. Hell, every single one of our detainees got a Flu shot. I bet you can't say that about everyone in America, prison or not.

I guess I should apologize for the obscure post from yesterday. Someday, someone is going to buy me a beer or four (actually 18 year old Macallan scotch would work much better) and I'm going to tell some stories that will either make you grab a pen or grab your ears and beg me to stop.

And with that, I will leave you with one final quote from Fyodor that best sums up the obscure post from yesterday.

"If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment--as well as the prison." - Fyodor Dostoevsky

Something Happened

Jeez, sometimes I hate this forum. We are prevented from talking or writing about certain things. Make no mistake, I completely agree with the policy. Some things are better off kept quiet. That's unsatisfying to you, I'm sure. People want to know. If fact, many (especially you journalists) feel you deserve to know. Heck, you demand it!

A bunch of us are watching Battlestar Gallactica. There has been some really excellent writing, and I especially enjoy the interaction between the President of the Colonies and the military. Remember that episode where Colonel Tigh was in charge and he needed supplies? He used the military to get them and things got out of control. That must really suck.

I.T. People are SO Helpful

Soldiers have a lot of traditions. One of the traditions is the "greeting of the day." Whenever a soldier walks past an officer, they salute and give a greeting. Usually it's a simple, "Good Afternoon, Sir." Sometimes, elite units have a slogan they'll say. Here are some examples:

First to Fight!

Mission First!

Rakkasan! (Still not sure what this means)

Well, the other day I walked past a soldier who just arrived in theater. His until is a Signal Battalion and they handle all the computers. His greeting was the best I've heard:

Permission Denied, Sir!

It is with this spirit that I am writing this post in the middle of my work day. Normally, I am working at this time, but today I cannot. You see, the folks that run my computer system decided they needed a new firewall. They spent 5 hours in the middle of what would otherwise be my most productive time installing the damn thing.

They will spend the rest of the night uninstalling it, because it made my system unusable, just like I told them it would be. I love these guys.

Post Halloween Bliss

Well, my weight creeped up a little this week - must be something about all that candy. We had a very cool Halloween bash here at the hospital. You might think that being in Iraq would isolate us from those things necessary to make a good party, but that was not the case. There was great food, a haunted house and some phenomenal costumes. I was totally unprepared, so I went as a soldier. How original.

Here are two of the better photos.

Picture 1. This is me with our Psych nurse (AKA the Wicked Witch of Puerto Rico) and our Psychiatrist.

Picture 2. Have you ever tried to milk a surgeon? I love the expression on his face.

Young Frankenstein

Tonight is traditionally my favorite night of the year (well, at least until I was 18). It's Mischief Night, and it always falls the night before Halloween. Much trouble did I cause in my youth. We shall not revisit those demons.

Tomorrow is Halloween, and my 10 year old son has determined he's too mature to go trick-or-treating. Besides, he says, he never gets any really good candy anyway. Instead, he's going to hide behind one of our trees and scare the hell out of trick-or-treaters. Zeyda will be so proud!

I had a total Halloween moment yesterday. As I was looking for a table in the dining facility, I came face to face with a woman that honestly reviled me the moment I saw her. I had a complete visceral reaction. It was a total Frau Blücher moment (I even heard the horses whinny). Turns out most people react to her that way. She is well known in these parts and is best avoided, (or so I'm told) mostly because her attitude is so negative that it tends to bring everyone down. It reminds me of a great quote I heard – "The only tool the miserable have is recruitment." Roll that one around in your noggin.

Well, through a series of unfortunate events, I ended up sitting right next to her at dinner. She asked me how I was coping with the deployment. I hit her with both barrels of my sunshine gun. I told her this was perhaps the greatest thing I had ever done in my life. I have developed a great circle of friends and my social calendar is filled beyond capacity.

I effectively built a karma wall between us that she was unable to climb over. She quickly gave up and went on to other victims. I felt like a superhero.

Goals

I have an Excel spreadsheet that tracks several goals. I have my weight loss goal (13 pounds and counting), my deployment tracker goal (30% completed) and my two mile goal (15:30 best so far). I have short, intermediate and long term goals. My biggest goal is to get home safely.

My wife has goals, too. In fact, she has a goal she has been working towards for the entire time I've known her (that's 15+ years for those keeping score at home).

Congratulations honey - I always knew you'd make it. You have finally arrived. Forevermore, when you walk those hallowed halls, they will look at you as you have looked at the many that came before you, and they'll say…

Partner

Hidden Posts – Redux

The day after my post about posting, I come to work and find out that the Bloglines site (where I read all of my favorite posts) is now blocked.

Coincidence? I think not.

As an aside, today marks the 21st anniversary of the day I joined the Army. What a long strange trip it's been.

Hidden Posts

I apologize for my poor choice of words. I re-read the last line of yesterday's post, and I can see where it sounds like I have a secret post somewhere out there on the internet. That is not the case.

What I should have said was, "It kind of make you wonder what I'm NOT writing about, doesn't it?"

To that end, let me clear up one more thing. These forums are not illegal in the military – they are just heavily regulated. Soldiers usually mean well, but they can (and have) inadvertently given away information that could help the enemy. It's one of the reasons I proofread my posts several times before sending.

Government computers are 100% monitored. It's one of the reasons you will not see me use the word b*l*o*g. It's a signal word that sends up red flags to the security guys. Like I said, I never write about anything I'm not supposed to, but why attract unnecessary attention?

All this goes back to my original point. If you are wondering whether or not things are happening around here that I can't (or won't) talk about, you can stop wondering.

Nothing like that happens around here.

A Post of Substance

I had really big intentions for this forum before I came out to Iraq. I would be your embedded reporter. I would chronicle things that real journalists could only dream about. I would make grown men weep and women swoon.

Yet, looking back on my posts, I notice a distinct lack of substance. Maybe you've noticed it, too. If you come here hoping for some real dirt and great insight, I'm afraid I've disappointed you. Sure there were some goodies, but for the most part, it's been a lot of fluff.

It kind of make you wonder if there is a hidden post somewhere, doesn't it?

Just a Coincidence

"Coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous." – anonymous

Some bizarre shit is happening around me. I'm not quite sure how to explain it. I believe in God, but I do not subscribe to the idea that a supreme being is sitting around figuring out ways to make me scratch my head all the time. Seriously, wouldn't He have better things to do?

So here is a chronicle of the most recent happenings:

I was telling a story about the fastest man I ever knew. When I was stationed at Ft. Benning 10 years ago, he was one of my Physician Assistants. He could run a mile in under 4 minutes. I ran the Army 10-miler with him (well, technically we ran it at the same time. I would have needed a motorcycle to keep up with him), and he finished at a 5:15 pace. Guess who shows up here in the hospital the day after I told the story. Same guy.

I had a full house beaten by an Ace to 5 straight flush (flopped) and we've seen quads flopped 3 different times in the short time I've been here. One night 4 different people had pocket Aces in the span of 45 minutes.

I'm watching Rounders (for like the 10th time) and I tell a story about how one of the characters reminds me of a very old friend. The next day, my sister gets an email from that same guy, and I'm told he'll be emailing me today. The last time I saw him or spoke to him was 23 years ago.

All I have to do is think about something, and somehow it comes right back to me.

God, if you are listening, there was this really old bottle of scotch …

Panties for Sale!

I'm blogging my heart out over here, yet my wife puts up a post about her panties and suddenly she an internet superstar. Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Act now and I'll sell you some panties that may or may not have belonged to my wife. The first 10 requests get a bonus – a pair of Waffles' shredded drawers so you can compare and contrast. PayPal and Pokerstars transfers accepted!

Now that that's out of the way, we can get back to war correspondence. Actually, there is not much new to report. The biggest problem we face seems to be soldiers not doing the right thing. Anytime you have women and men in close proximity for an extended period of time, things are going to happen. I remember hearing a Navy Admiral talking about the introduction of women on his ship. An "insolent" reporter asked if this would lead to hanky-panky. He replied that his sailors were disciplined. They would do the right thing.

Yeah. Right.

There are multiple ways to pass the time here on Camp Cropper. I've talked about the regular poker games and the Tuesday night chess tournament (I won last night, thank you very much). Well, there are also Salsa dancing classes. It's quite the popular thing to do. Well, I guess it is – I've never been. One of the regulars at Salsa, a very attractive young woman with an exotic island accent was asking me about my trailer. When I told her that no one has yet moved into the other side, she suggested we all get together and use the empty room for Salsa practice.

That's just what I need – a rocking trailer. Honest, General Stone! We were just dancing!

Comic Books

We have converted the Psychiatry trailer into our combination Officer's Club and Poker Room, but it's still the home of the nut house (exaggerated for effect). I was a little perplexed when one of the Psych techs handed me a comic book and said, "You might like this."

It was Neil Gaiman's Sandman .

Holy crap – has anyone else heard of this?

Sounds of War

High volume chatter – Hospitals are usually quiet places. Not here. The hallways are filled with soldiers talking and laughing at a higher than normal pitch. I'm sure it has something to do with stress, but there is another reason. All of the detainees must be guarded at all times, usually by two MPs. These cops are not used to the normally reserved atmosphere in a hospital.

Din – I never really appreciated this word, but it's a good description of the background noise in the dining facility. The DFAC is the size of an airplane hangar and there are literally thousands of hungry troops in there for every meal.

Cursing – There is something about being at war that makes otherwise sophisticated people curse like truck drivers (or maybe I should say poker players). I'm guilty of it, too. If you know me well, you know that's unusual for me. I'd better watch myself before I go back home.

Belching – This is the sound I was thinking about when I got the idea for this post. In this case, I'm not referring to your college roommate Wally who could burp the alphabet. I'm talking about the sound that comes from a .30 caliber Gatlin gun. This sound has been described (quite accurately) as a burp amplified 1000 times. These guns are usually attached to aircraft - I believe the A-10, but I'm not sure. It's the sound that woke me up this morning at 2am and it sounded like it was right outside my trailer.

Then came more cursing.

Proof of Insurance?

65' custom-built motor yacht complete with staterooms, a state-of-the-art galley, G.P.S. system and radar for navigation, twin supercharged diesel engines, etc.

$2.5 million

Champagne, chocolate covered strawberries with cream, and music dockside for the excited "soon to be owners" and a small group of friends.

$500.00

Two corporate representatives, crane, and rigging complete with faulty turnbuckle.


$2,500/hour

(Note the guy in the stern!)

Watching your dreamboat nose dive into the harbor, accompanied by two corporate representatives just prior to "inking" the final paperwork . . .






PRICELESS!

The Meaning of Life

If you've read The Wife recently, you saw a few gems from her day. It's wonderful that she's able to experience these joys. I know with me being so far away her life is quite stressful (as if it wasn't already that way). It's encouraging to me that she is still able to appreciate these small but significant events.

Being here in Iraq and reading about back home has made me revisit some of Life's Big Questions. I figured out the Meaning of Life when I was just a teenager. In my 30's I realized something was missing, so I added it in and stood back to look at the whole. At the time, it seemed quite profound. It's only with the eyes of a 40 year old that I'm able to appreciate it's main flaw – namely that any grand philosophy able to explain the Meaning of Life has to be so basic and simplified as to be pretty much of no use to anyone.

If you care, my meaning boiled down to four (and later 5) points:

You Must Learn
You Must Teach
You Must Reproduce
You Must Experience Joy

In my 30's I added:

You Must Function as a Member of Society

I also put on the single caveat:

In order to claim you have fulfilled your function as a living person, you must have done at least 3 of these 5 things before you die.

We can all sit around and talk about this until the sun comes up, but the bottom line is that I've already realized how over simplistic it is and how unusable it is when it comes to real life. Save your venom.

The reason for all this background has to do with point number 4 – You Must Experience Joy. There have been times in my life where I thought things were too complex and stressful. I longed for a simple life of sitting around and being a vegetable. Predictability would be wonderful. No surprises.

Now that I've had a chance to experience that kind of life, I can tell you this – I'd really love some complexity right now. Give me a chance to figure out how to balance the checkbook and the kids soccer games. Let me coordinate my wife's hectic schedule with my hospital schedule. Let me try to schedule family trips and vacations while trying to please everyone. Throw some surprises at me (the non-explosive kind, thanks). Anything but same-old, same-old.

In order to experience joy, you must first be able to define it. Will you know it when you have it?

It goes back to the one phrase I coined. As far as I can tell, it's original:

"Throughout your life, may you know how good you've got it while you're getting it."

New Equipment

We were just issued some new equipment. All soldiers must keep it in their shoulder pocket at all times. God help us if we are caught without it.

It's a tourniquet.

Bret Michaels Ain't So Poisonous

I meant to write about this last week. The "Bad Boy of Hollywood" (this was actually written on the posters advertising his arrival) played a concert here at Camp Stryker, Iraq last Sunday. If pressed, I would not have said I was a fan of Poison, his old group. My recollection of this 80's "hair band" was one of their album covers. I remember walking past a record store and seeing the album in the window and thinking, "Those chicks are HOT!" It was only after closer inspection that I realized all 4 people pictured were dudes in make-up with big hair. That will really fuck up the psyche of a teenager. I can only admit this now that I'm 40.

Well, for someone who wasn't a fan, I sure did know every word of every song he played. It was one helluva concert. There were about 2000 soldiers standing out there singing and just having a great, high-energy time. My hat is off to him for bringing his new band out here to entertain the troops.

You Can Find Me Here . . .

If you want to see where I work, check out this photo link from CNN.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/10/10/iraq.main/index.html#cnnSTCPhoto

I'm a little surprised by the photos, because we soliders are all under STRICT orders not to take any photos. I guess orders don't apply to CNN. These 7 pics are actually very good representations of where I am and what we do.

Read Before You Hit "Send"

For your reading enjoyment, I copied an email sent to the entire hospital here in Iraq. I have changed nothing except to delete the sender's name.

-----Original Message-----
From: xxx xxxx SSG 535 MP NCOIC
Sent: Thursday, October 11, 2007 2:46 PM
To: DL CROP ALL
Subject: Acronyms

In the future, when submitting an SOR please refrain from using acronyms. There are several service technicians with KBR that are not familiar with them. Also, be sure to put building numbers for locations. Any SOR without building numbers and using only acronyms for their location will be returned to sender.

SSG xxx xxxx
NCOIC, DPW


I hit "REPLY TO ALL" and sent the following:

From: Dr. Chako LTC 31 CSH Radiologist
Sent: Thursday, October 11, 2007 2:56 PM
To: DL CROP ALL
Subject: RE: Acronyms

What's an SOR?


I have become something of a local celebrity from this.

Tagged!

My invisible internet friend Sean has tagged me with one of those, "Ten Things You Don't Know About Me" thingies. I was going to play the old "Not one of THESE things again" cards, but if you know me, you know I love talking about myself. For the more complete list, please see 101 Things About Dr. Chako.

1. I'm egotistical. Because of this, I'm easily manipulated by people who play on my ego. Call me an asshole and I'll forget you ever existed. Call me the greatest anything (doctor, poker player, guitar player, lover, whatever), and I'll do just about anything for you.
2. I am a morning person. If you tell me you are not, I'll totally understand but secretly think you are a weak individual.*
3. I have lost 11 pounds since I left home for Iraq.
4. I still need to lose 20 more.
5. Being in Iraq has only worsened my obsession with Ferraris.
6. Being in Iraq has worsened by Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I may need to dedicate an entire post to this.
7. I am not invincible, but I have this distinct feeling that I will not die here. I honestly believe I'm supposed to get home for something really important.
8. If you are better than me at just about anything, I will start to idolize you. Then I will work at becoming better than you.
9. If I was not an Army Doctor, I would want to be a singer-songwriter and play my guitar in local clubs - preferably somewhere warm. This would put a serious damper on my Ferrari dreams.
10. I once thought I had the perfect solution to the homeless crisis in America, but everyone I told just laughed at me (including my wife and my father). There is still a tiny piece of me that thinks someone should try it.
    
    * This is obviously a joke. Right honey ?

I'm All Right

If you've scanned the web or listened to the news, you may have come across this story:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/10/11/iraq.main/index.html

I just wanted to let you know that I'm just fine. So is everyone I know personally.

We're just a little busier than usual.

Poker Content!

Let me introduce you to my Wednesday and Saturday night poker game. This is a blog about poker after all.

First of all, we are all officers. There is a policy here against fraternization. It was originally crafted to prevent male and female soldiers of different ranks from sleeping together, but it morphed into something more. Now it generally means officers and enlisted should not socialize too much. Technically, it should also apply to any officers of different ranks, especially if you might gain undue influence if you, say, dump all your chips to your commander in exchange for light duty. We've decided that it doesn't apply to us, and since one of our regulars is the base commander, there is no one to tell us to stop.

Speaking of the commander:

The Commander: This is the guy I would invite to my home game if I had one. Nice guy. Good conversationalist. Great stories and a good poker player in that "I don't give a shit about money so let's see if you can outplay me," kind of way. At first I thought he didn't care and would raise or reraise with any two cards, but I've discussed a little strategy with him, and he knows his stuff. (This is not the same commander as my boss' boss – the analytical chess and ping pong player).

The Ringer: Heavy Boston accent. Probably the best player at the table (other than me, of course). A little too conservative for our format, but he knows position, which is better than just about everyone else there. About the only other person capable of making plays based on his reads as opposed to his cards.

The LT: He's one of our ER nurses. His best quote, "Has anyone seen the Veterinarian? Because these pythons are sick (as he says this, he kisses his biceps)." He's actually pretty decent at cards, and I've even seen him win one or two games.

The Psychiatrist: The only woman in what is otherwise a sausage-fest. She's clearly improving and took her first 1st place last time we played. She has the most predictable tells of anyone out there. I can't believe no one (or almost no one) picks up on them. Seriously, it's right out of Mike Caro. If she looks at the flop and looks right away at her chips, watch out. She does this every time she has a good hand.

The Cop: He's an MP and we just lost him to another game 300 miles away. He'll be missed because he was good fun and played a very calm game. Even when he flopped quad Aces. Against me, dammit.

The Doc (not me): Another good young player, come to think of it. Very conservative, often to his benefit. With 12 chips in 3rd place, he came back to win by exercising extreme patience. I saw some of what he discarded and I must say I was impressed.

Your Hero (moi): Usually I'm first place or last place. I'd like to think I always get it in with the best, and while that's usually true, I admit I've been outplayed once or twice. Well, maybe once.

That's the regulars. There are others that come and go, but this is the core. It sure helps the week go by when you know you have a poker game to look forward to twice a week. I just wish we could play for real money - even small stakes. People play differently, and it shows. Still, it's a good chance to work on my player reading ability, and it's a damn good time.

Thought for the Day

When someone says to you, "Basically, you are correct," it can mean one of only three things:

1. Either they think you are too stupid to understand the full explanation, or
   
2. They are too lazy to take the time to explain it to you, or
   
3. They don't quite understand it either.