A special forces veteran of Vietnam examines the state of American culture and those who oversee it from the halls of power.
Scimitars: Tasting Wine in Monterey by J. Hamilton Ocean bays that face westward onto open seas exercise a strong fascination. My ancestors left such bays to travel to the New World, and as a youth I found my way across the country to Monterey Bay. The bay and its city opened before me like a […]
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Joy, Sorrow, and Wine by J. Hamilton It shouldn’t seem odd that the old man went on a drunk. His life’s work finished; the old world wiped out like it never existed; the new world a scraggly landscape of bushy, young trees, the oldest living creature being Noah himself — and then his vines produced […]
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The “Mexican” Standoff: A Meditation by J. Hamilton “Bang.” “Bang.” “Tap, tap, tap.” As far as I can tell, that’s what a real “Mexican Standoff” would sound like — the sound of two guys dying and one walking away. Let’s look at the mechanics: The classic standoff requires three individuals who are physically near one another […]
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But there is a picture of my father standing in front of the Christmas tree playing his new violin; my teddy bear is pushed up against the tree behind him.
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I looked upon him with expressionless eyes while I previewed the scenario: We are being over-run. I presume the enemy is trying to blow its way through our steel door into the radio room. I am at the cul-de-sac end of the radio room, standing between two red-phosphorous slab grenades, and I am going to commit suicide by pulling the pins to the grenades. The sergeant assumed I would.
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Dennis: “Oh but if I went ’round sayin’ I was Emperor, just because some moistened bint lobbed a scimitar at me, they’d put me away!” — Monty Python and the Holy Grail Transportation Security Administration by J. Hamilton 19 November: I went through Los Angeles airport security. Life required I travel to Boston. After reading […]
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The sergeant looked at us with the wisdom of the ages in his eyes, and then with the compelling voice of Saruman said we should push out our front risers as far as we could and rock gently back and forth . . . A wag later told me the purpose of the maneuver was to occupy our minds and make us relax just before we fried.
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The adults talked over my head, but I had developed the pattern of pretending to be playing while listening. It required quite an effort for me to understand, because I knew nothing of what they talked about. I could read emotion unfailingly, but their subjects required thought, a searching, and the accumulated knowledge of later years to understand. One subject late that summer was Dewey and Truman. I could tell they were deciding.
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