Day By Day© by Chris Muir.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

At the time of the..

...Khobar Towers bombing incident against the Marines in Beruit, a feeling of uneasiness coalesced into my conviction that we are in World War III. 9/11 was, simply, the Pearl Harbor of this War.

War is not pretty. War is neither romantic nor heroic (although romantic and heroic things happen). It is not the symbolic walking away in the rain of a Hemmingway novel. War exists. War is a mind numbing time of boredom and lonliness. It is punctuated by moments, hours and, sometimes, days of asshole puckering fear and extra-human deeds. Tet, 1968 is not the same glowing warm and fuzzy memory as the Christmas that I got my 1st sled (a Flexible Flyer, by the way). In the Nam, I came to the realization that without someone defending freedom (my Uncles, Cousins and Father) there could be no 'Flexible Flyer moment'. I came to the realization that I was, somehow, defending freedom. And,now, comes the singularly most important thing that I know. Freedom is absolutely worth defending. Without my God and without my freedom I have nothing of value!

If my Granddaughter chooses to wear a Burkha of her own will, that is FREEDOM. I have no problem with that. Otherwise, my Granddaughter will wear a Burkha only over my cold, dead body. Contrary to the teachings and revisionist history espoused by Moonbats of all ilks, My heritage is easily worth my life. Without my heritage, I have nothing for either my Grandaughter or my Grandson and I will have lived and died in vain.

If, to grow taller and straighter, the tree of liberty must be watered with my blood, so be it. The torches that I hand to my Granddaughter and Grandson are freedom and honor.

Peace is not the absence of war.


Thursday, July 07, 2005

An apropos quote...

...of the day from the Celestial Junk Blog,

Winston Churchill

the Bog Frog...

...was in a state of extreme angst until mid-morning. It was angst, not of 'anxiety', rather, angst of the 'truly pissed' off variety. Feelings that sometimes pop up, even through the controls that I learned to use on myself in the PTSD/post Vietnam phase of life. I was unable to write anything acceptable until now. I say, only,...
God save the Queen!
The Union Jack flies at half-staff in the Bog.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

East / West - facedown with tanks at Check Point Charlie in the heart of the Cold War  Posted by Picasa

Check Point Charlie on July 3, 2005 Posted by Picasa

How did Berliners celebrate...

...American Independence Day?

Well, the frog is relatively sure that this celebration does not represent the feelings of the German's in the street (the working stiffs). It certainly shows how the 'Moonbats-in-Power-Eletists' feel. No love for J.F.K. or Ronald Reagan here...

They bulldozed the Checkpoint Charlie Museum!

The Frog shakes his head in wonderment. Please go to Davids Medienkritik for the entire story. This particular weblog tracks the 'goings-on' in the German press. I could easily find myself believing that they are as screwed up as the U.S.A. media.

Happy to be in the Bog,


The most abundant things... the universe are


I have no idea which is in First Place

Do not allow Moonbats or Islammofascists to read the preceding article or view the preceding filmclip. Keep th Bog County Fair a safe and happy place... Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

One thing that every G.I....

...takes with him is a sense of humour. That's what makes survival in adverse conditions possible. It's also what makes being a 'newbie' or a '1st sargeant' dangerous. The advent of inexpensive video cameras makes these positions even more dangerous.


If this video clip were to be seen by the Moonbat Brigade, the results could be horrible. Teddy the Perpetually Petulant and Little Dickie the Dastardly would probably start an investigation in the Senate that could insure that Justicea Librata would rule forever in the Supreme Court - the Constitution would be legislated out of existence - the immediate withdrawl of troops from the Middle East would leave us shamed forever. The President could be impeached and the Don Rumsfeld might be tarred and feathered as he was being 'rode out of town' on the (proverbial) rail. This is really over the top.

Not to mention that the Islammofascists would have a new and horrible tool. Think what could happen if they hijacked a Cessna at the local Sky Harbour and flew it into a row of 'Johnny-on-the-Spot' porta potties. Oh, the havoc! I will, personally, never again feel safe at the Bog County Fair.

Tremblingly yours,


Love makes the heart...

...grow stronger. Age makes the mind grow weaker (even when started out at maxiweak). Which might be a reason for the Bog Frog being such a happy sort. Congress or the Supremes have yet to revoke this natural law...
For some excellent observations on this branch of the tree of sanity (?) please visit...
Where you will findout who said things like...
As the attacks of September 11 demonstrated, the immense destructiveness of modern technology means we can no longer afford to wait around for a smoking gun. September 11 demonstrated that the fact that an attack on our homeland has not yet occurred cannot give us any false sense of security that one will not occur in the future. We no longer have that luxury.
September 11 changed America. It made us realize we must deal differently with the very real threat of terrorism, whether it comes from shadowy groups operating in the mountains of Afghanistan or in 70 other countries around the world, including our own.
There has been some debate over how "imminent" a threat Iraq poses. I do believe that Iraq poses an imminent threat, but I also believe that after September 11, that question is increasingly outdated.

Sunday, July 03, 2005


...Is not
always the

Independence Day, 2005...

...number ONE from the bog. This not just a tribute to a group of Special Operations Teams. This is a tribute to all the men and women standing watch on the walls of freedom. It is a tribute to all of our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends and comrades that have gone before us in the preservation of the Republic...

I lack the eloquence of Mark Devine.

Warrior Souls – In Memory of our Fallen Mates
Written by Mark Divine
Friday July 1, 2005

We imagine the reconnaissance team getting over-run on the ground in a hail of bullets after being compromised by a goat, or dog. It is bitter cold and snowing on the Afghanistan – Pakistan border. The four man team has been there for 3 days after intelligence indicated a gathering of Al-Queda and Taliban fighters in the region. The team scampers out of their hide site when spotted and scrambles with all they have in them up the side of the rugged mountain. The OIC grabs the handset of the radio and keys his mike…”Bravo One, Bravo One, this is Bravo Three, over. Bravo Three, this is Bravo One, send your traffic. Bravo One we are taking effective fire, I say again, we are taking effective fire. Request immediate support. Over.” The voice is tense, but controlled. The distinct sound of incoming rounds – like branches of a tree snapping – is heard. Then nothing more.

The Quick Reaction Force (QRF) is launched – comprised of US Navy SEALs from an East Coast SEAL Team and an Army Special Operations transport Helo Squadron (MH-47’s). Three birds are launched. 45 minutes after the call they are nearing the drop zone and start taking fire themselves. One bird is hit with a shoulder fired RPG. Lucky hit. The helo limps for a mile, then collides into the side of the unforgiving mountain. It slides, end-over end, to the bottom of the ravine. 17 of America’s finest SEAL and Air commandos are gone, forever.

It could have been me, I think. But then, that was years ago. But I play it over and over in my mind – what it must have felt like – to each man.

The fear. The pain. The intense anger at this injustice. Their families will miss them terribly. It was not supposed to happen to them – not here, not now. NOT ME! Their thoughts spin out of control along with the dying helicopter. Then it is over.

Soon…17 warrior souls are seeing each other for the first time – with questioning eyes…whoa. What now? They see their physical bodies in the wreckage – but they are still here. Is this what death is? They are motionless, unsure, seeking answers. A light shines above them, and an angel comes down to them – beckoning them to come. The angel is dressed in a WWI style infantryman’s uniform. He tells them, without words, not to worry. Warriors take care of their own in Heaven, he says. They have been expected, and there is a big reception planned. He asks if they would like to visit their loved one’s before going to Heaven. They all say yes. The angel takes them instantly to their homes – where word of the tragedy has not yet reached. They see their wives and children sleeping, playing. They see their parents, friends, and teammates. They tell them not to worry, for they are going to a safe place. They pray that their loved ones will understand that life is fleeting, and that death is part of the warrior’s path. Do not grieve us they say…we died an honorable death. Honor our memory. Tell our story. Teach our children how to live with dignity and honor. Teach our teammates how to live well, and die honorably. Mourn us for a time, but then celebrate our lives.

The words settle into the hearts of their loved ones, providing comfort. An uncanny feeling comes over them that they are not alone. Later, the loved ones smile through their tears – knowing intuitively that their warrior is in a good place.

Tears also run down my cheek as I write these words. So sad. So many young men and women dying for a cause they do not understand fully. But they are not alone. Every generation and every culture has warriors. It is the warrior souls that have given us the freedom to read these words, and live in comfort. We owe them a debt of gratitude that is almost indescribable. Warrior Souls - they do not question the why, but serve honorably, and die.

God Bless them all.

And God Bless all of you on the 4th of July.

Mark DivineNavySEALs.comMark Divine is a former Navy SEAL officer. He founded to provide news and information about the SEALs and other Special Operations Forces, as well as assist recruiting efforts. He is CEO of US Tactical, Inc., which provides products and training to military, law enforcement and others. Mark lives in North County, San Diego with his wife and 5 year old son.

Independence Day, 2005...

...suggested reading from the bog for reading today. A short story to help focus on what Independence Day and patriotism is about. It's one of the Frog's favorites. A good read to cool off over an iced tea in the airconditioned study after a day of celebration on the links, over the barbecue pit, or stuck in traffic after visiting the Grandchildren.

Edward Everett Hale (1822-1909)
A short piece of historic fiction based on the problems between Aaron Burr and Thomas Jefferson. Fine writing with underlying themes of patriotism, loyalty and honor, things that we celebrate on this day. Take a break from "puff pieces" like Bubbasbog and feed your mind some real food. You might find that you have a hungry intellect.
Peace and all good,

Independence Day #3... not an original. But, it expresses the Frog's feelings.

A bit of background. The language is stilted if not Elizabethan, so if you learned to read by the 'hooked on phonics' method, it may appear to be gobledygook. It helps if you have and awareness of history. It's part of a mid 17th century poem by that son of the Middle Border, Walter Scott.

. . . . .

The Lay of the Last Minstrel
by Sir Walter Scott
Canto the Sixth - stanzas 1 and 2

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.

. . . . .

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Still as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,
Even in extremity of ill.
By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,
Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my wither'd cheek:
Still lay my head by Teviot Stone,
Though there, forgotten and alone,
The Bard may draw his parting groan.

. . . . .
The 1st stanza fairly describes my feelings about my country. In the 2nd stanza I would only have to substitute the locations in which I spent my youth with the poets locations to have near identical feelings.
. . . . .
What Beauty and extravagance of feeling! I pitty the output of today's public education that can (maybe) read these words but feel nothing. The modern mind seems ground so far down by constant bombardment with noise that what enters the ear is ignored by the heart. Perhaps the heart knows inherently what is true and good (God in us) and rejects what is not good and true. This would seem a valid explanation for existing hoards of hollow people.

And this where...

...the learned dissertaion on 'Taping the Duck' will go. But it will not go here at 0500 Sunday morning...


This dissertation is a logical (?) outgrowth of the 3rd response (by moi) to the bit entitled... "Sometimes Silence is the best Answer". If you read this, what follows will make no less sense than if you don't read it.

So, while you are reading this and that, I will be writing the other. Some things just make more sense at 5:00 pm than they did at 5:00 am.


PS - This whole thing will never make sense!

We learned (during the great Anthrax Episode) that Duct Tape, plastic sheets and plenty of water should be included in every home's emergency preparedness kit. That way, when the threat level gets high enough, you can seal yourself off fron biological threats by Duct Taping yourself with plastic sheets and water (include an empty bucket and a radio) into the spare bedroom and wait to hear the all clear sounded.

As a result of this, the taped duck should become the icon for security level over-the-top-neon-red-high-alert. When things get that tough, we really need a little humor...

Oh yeh... About the fences. Robert Frost told us that "Good fences make good neighbors". I can go with that. Especially since you might be able to pump enough volts through the fence to keep the screaching moonbats out of the bog!

If you must be on the road this weekend, Drive safe. I can't afford to lose anybody that reads this drivel. It's an ego thing!

Peace and all good,

the Frog

PS - The picture below also answers the old question (from WWW I vintage song), "How you gonna keep'em down on the farm..." if they live in a portion of the country known as "Tornado Alley". Back to you, Debris Trail!

This is not a kinky picture of the Silly Goose. It is an illustration for a learned dissiertation on the subject of 'Duct Tape'. Posted by Picasa

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