This country could use an AMERICAN Foreign Legion

as a pathway to citizenship. 

Six years+ Honorable discharge=full citizenship. 

Plus a full GI bill and in-service educational opportunities. 

Legal entry required, no Green Cards necessary. Entry to the states for the purpose of enlistment permitted, however if you don't qualify you get returned to your home country. I'd also allow illegals to enlist. OTOH if they don't qualify they get handed over to ICE who POLITELY returns them to where they came from.

Maybe out embassies overseas could serve as a screening point. A couple of trained embassy Marines could administer the various pre enlistment tests.

Upon completion of the six years they are eligible to reenlist if they so desire to continue with a military career. Same benefits, rights and responsibilities as regular troops. Hell, they could even transfer to regular military units.

One more thing, a distinctive uniform badge of some sort akin to the French Foreign Legion's distinctive Kepi Blanc. It would give them a source of pride for both members and our citizenry. We could refer to them as apprentice 'citizens'.

One thing about these people is that if they wanted to come from overseas to enlist they should go to the head of the line. They could bypass the waiting lines that extend to up to 20+ years.

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MREs.

I just bought a case so I can toss a couple in my two vehicles as insurance in case I get stuck somewhere or just want to eat fast and run.

I've had limited experience with them in the past and over the years I've stuffed a couple of Hormel Compleats in the bag while traveling. They are rarely eaten but the couple of times I have made me glad I planned ahead for things.  If I am not mistaken the last time was probably J6 in DYW airport after a long delay in my flight home.

Anyway most things of that nature I have eaten cold. 

MREs now come with a flameless heater and I decided to try that out a couple of weeks ago and it really is a game changer of sorts. The heater, although it takes time, turns a bland cold dish into a halfway decent meal although like military field rations everywhere you don't want to live on them for long periods of time.

I guess what made me think of this is that the usual suspects are raising hell over Pete Hegseth feeding the troops a surf and turf meal which has been done for decades.   

As far as feeding the troops goes, I'm like a tug skipper I knew. He said he didn't worry about going over budget. He looked at the trash can. "I look at the trash can. If there's not a lot of food waste in it I don't worry because I know they're eating it."

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One of my favorite airplane stories was back in the day

On February 4, 1969 an eastern Airlines flight from Newark to Miami was hijacked and the pilot was ordered to land in Cuba.

Only one passenger and the entire aircrew was in the least nervous. 

The passenger's name was Alan Funt.

People were cheerful and laughing at the hijacker and nobody realized they were in any danger at all until the airplane landed in Havana.

Funt had been recognized by some of the passengers and spread word. The entire plane thought they were part of Funt's TV show, Candid Camera. 

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Using the exception to prove the rule.

Like the poor 97 year old deaf, dumb and blind woman that has no arms and only one leg and lives in a mud hut atop a mountain that's 123 miles from the nearest town. She can't even get a job because the nearest IHOP is 426 miles away. 

How is she going to register to vote?

It's not fair!

My answer to someone that was using that excuse over the SAVE act was to tell the Democrats she wants to vote Republican. That way they'll travel all the way up to her mud hut, put her in a wheelchair and roll her off a cliff.

Problem solved.

I don't know why woman and minorities allow themselves to be insulted by Democrats claiming that if SAVE is enacted they won't be able to register to vote.

Update before I posted this:

https://x.com/ForecasterEnten/status/2018727149050741020?fbclid=IwY2xjawQgOrpleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEenVJCJyKdx-vrcjcys8pkL0MzRzGiHVYC_LPLNEn-2Jb0fv7VdvS9PP17U3g_aem_qfyyldg98JoYTsPi0zGLaw 

a CNN poll of all things.

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Another quick fix.

When activists glue their hands to the pavement there are two choices.

If traffic can easily be detoured then reroute it. Leave them there glued to the pavement and allow their supporter to bring them food and water. After about a week of having to deal with the elements and calls of nature and sitting in their own waste for about a week they are not likely to try that stunt again.

Of course if detour is not an option than grabbing their forearm and giving a hard quick jerk and carting them to jail should discourage them from further stupidity.

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It's coming soon to PA.

Eventually Democrats will own the PA government.

When that happens laws will be enacted here prohibiting the possession of certain classes of firearms. NY, MA, IL, MD, CY and a few other places already have much in place banning classes of firearms and from what I have managed to gather compliance is still running in single digits and in NJ there has been an increase in the number of fully automatic rifles the police have been picking up. 

The NJ increase makes sense in that if semi autos are illegal, one might just as well go whole hog and do it right.

It's unconstitutional and they can kiss my a$$.

All it is going to do is start a new class of felons. 

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Toe tags.

I was talking to a friend and told him I wanted to mark a few things for passing on. Things like family heirlooms that you have but never use. The trench knife Grandpa carried in France in 1918, Grandma's figurine she brought from the old country. things like that.  He suggested 'Toe tag them'.

I knew what he meant. The tags the morgue uses on bodies but for the life of me forgot what the real name is. Anyway, I was off to Target.

There I made the mistake of asking a young lady working in the stationary section if she carried toe tags. 

"Toe tags?" she asked.

"Yeah. You know. the kind they toe to someone's toe at the morgue," I said.

"What would you possibly need something like that for?!" 

There was a woman behind her that had turned her head. I can't really call her a busybody because I would have stopped dead to hear where the conversation was going. It was just too juicy to pass up.

I also realized this was an excellent target of opportunity. A man's gotta do what he's gotta do.

"Don't ever buy a house that a drug dealer lived in," I said. "You're always getting people that don't know he moved out and you get home invasions by druggies looking for drugs and money. Since we moved in we've had four invasions and the score is 12-0. It's 14-0 if you count the 2 crackheads that lived. Last night I came home late from work and found three dead crackheads the old Lady shot sprawled around in the living room."

"Oh, my God!" said the young shelf stocker. "What did the police do?"

"They're pretty good about it. They said they recognized all three and told me to call the coroner's office in the morning, I answered. "Oh yeah, the sergeant gave the wife another box of ammunition."

I looked over her shoulder and saw the woman behind her was trying not to outright break into laughter. She was dying inside.

"Anyway we slept in late after the excitement and when I called the coroner's office they said they wanted the three stiffs tagged. I gotta find some toe tags fast because the Old Lady don't want them stinking the place up and we can't leave them on the porch because the raccoons and the coyotes will start chewing them up. I gotta have them tagged before the coroner's office closes. I'll tag 'em and they'll bag em and the coroner will cart them off."

Visibly shaken she pointed and showed me the label section. They had nothing I could use. She left instantly and I was approached by the woman that had overheard everything. She was laughing like hell. "You scared the hell out of that poor girl. That was just plain cruel."

"You're laughing," I said.

"Yes I am. I guess there's something wrong with me, too." she said. 

If I was still single I'd have probably offered to buy her a drink or a cup of coffee. I instinctive liked her.

Off to Staples. I went to the counter.

"Do you carry toe tags?" I asked. The woman was about the same age as the Target girl.

"The kind the morgue uses?" she asked.

"Yeah. That kind," I replied.

"They call them shipping tags. They're in aisle 5 next to the manilla envelopes," she said.

I was in and out in a couple of minutes.

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I DEMAND!

Oh. You demand. 

I see. You demand.

Oh.

Nine times out of ten when someone demands something they are basically admitting that they are negotiating from a position where they have no power other than to just spout off. It means less than nothing.

When you have a cocked pistol against someone's nose you don't demand, you order.

When they have a cocked pistol against your nose they do the ordering. You can demand they lower the pistol but expect to be treated like a demander. They will laugh at you. 

I have been watching governor and mayors demand things of the federal government and they always look lame and pathetic when they do.

A governor or mayor has no business demanding anything from the federal government. what are they going to do when their demands are not met? Hold their breath until they turn blue?

==================================

I just watched the Governor of MA demand ICE leave them alone and stay out of churches, schools, courthouses etc.

If I ran ICE (and it's probably a good thing I don't) I would have agents target these places specifically. I'd also start jailing people that hide and hire illegals. Or governors and mayors that declare their city or state to be a sanctuary.

==============================

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Muslim cab driver in NYC a few years back.

I don't remember the details of where we were going but I certainly remembered the ride. It was about an hour and a half if pretty much silence. Wait a minute...the ride was from Brooklyn to Bridgeport, CT.

I've always been cheerful and generous to cabbies over the years. I've bought numerous snacks and meals for them over the years and I tip generously. 

The cab arrived and the driver looked at me with a bored sullen look. I got in the back seat and we started off. I tried to be polite and make conversation but he had an attitude so I just rode along in silence.

We were about halfway there when I felt hungry and offered to buy him lunch. He snapped angrily back at me that it was Ramadan and he was fasting. So much for that. I really didn't want to start an argument with the guy so we rode along in silence. 

I texted the person I was relieving and found out he didn't plan on returning to Brooklyn. His car was in Philly and he'd catch the train and ride in style. He said he'd catch a local cab to the airport.

I texted back have a lunch containing pork ready for me. He texted back LOL.

We arrived at the terminal and the driver didn't have a TWIC card so he couldn't enter the terminal. No problem. Security would show up in a few minutes and give me a ride to the boat.

Needless to say, he tried fishing for a tip.

"I'll give you a tip, alright. Assimilate or go back to where you came from. You could have been halfway decent and taken the high road when I offered to feed you. when I got into this damned cab I saw a simple human being and out of kindness and compassion offered to break bread with you. I had no idea you're a Muslim and if you had politely refused my offer with a civil explanation I certainly understood."

I continued. "Last Christmas I wished another person a Merry Christmas. He said Merry Christmas back and told me that although he's a Hindu he loves it when Christians offer to share their holiday. Now assimilate or go back to where you came from. By the way I have a ham sandwich waiting for me when I board the boat."

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How do you spell IMTT?

There was and still is a liquid storage facility called IMTT. IMTT stands for International Matex Tank Terminals and I frequently loaded and discharged there during my career. It is in Bayonne, NJ.

During the middle of the first third of my career the company sent a memo to all tank barges regarding spelling in the various reports we had to send in. The memo was accompanied with a dictionary.

At first I was insulted until I thought about it. We had (and likely still do) have a lot of people in the industry that don't have a lot of formal education. Maybe some of the the rednecks can't spell but I sure learned a lot from them. I guess the way they issued the dictionaries left a bad taste in my mouth because it felt like another little indignity. The office was good for little indignities. (The place I spent the last part of my career was great. They treated us like gold.)

Still I felt the need to get my licks in with the office over that one and decided to bide my time and wait for a really good shot back.

This was before the age of cell phones and computers. Most (but not all) of our communication was through VHF radio and repeaters.

My opportunity came faster than I had figured. We got word via VHF we were being sent to IMTT Bayonne NJ to pick up a load.

I played dumb with the dispatcher who was not known for being quick on the uptake.

"IMTT, huh?" I asked an a voice so innocently and humble that it could not possibly carry any guile. "I know we've had a lot of bad spelling on the paperwork and I want to get this right. Would you please spell the loading port for me?"

"Eye period, em period, tee period, tee period." he replied. 

"Thank you," I said in a voice just dripping with sarcasm. "I just wanted to get it right on the paperwork."

Of course the entire on watch fleet heard the exchange. The airwaves shut down for several seconds. Then returned back to business. I had expected hoots and jeers but there was nothing for a while but dead air.

Almost immediately back channel messages got to me for the rest of the tour. Most people thought it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. A handful thought it was a pretty cruel thing to do to the dispatcher and a smaller handful said, "Wow! Dat Piccolo is a ig-rent sumbitch! Why he can't even spell IMTT!"

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The man eating chicken story from the barber shop.

This same thing happened at Camp Perry a year or two later.

A few years back I was getting my locks shorn at the local barber shop. IIRC it was a Saturday morning when the 9-5ers were there for haircuts and a couple of old school farmers were there for their weekly shaves.

I had gotten a seat across from a father and son. dad looked like he was preoccupied, the kid looked like he was paying attention and possibly had a brain of some sort. I let things fall into place and looked at the kid and addressed him.

"Hey, Kid," I asked. "Have you ever in your life seen a man eating chicken?" His father took note of the situation instantly. 

The kid thought for a second or two and replied, "Yes I have."

The father looked at his son and demanded, "Where have you ever seen a man eating chicken?"

"I see it almost every time we eat at KFC," said the kid.

"What do you mean?" the father demanded of his son. "There are no man eating chickens at KFC!" 

"A lot of men eat chicken at KFC," answered the boy.

Dad turned beet red when he figured it out.

Over the years I have come to the conclusion that a lot of kids actually raise themselves. I keep thinking that the people that say that parents should have a license to reproduce have the right idea and I used to agree with them until I realized that if it became a worldwide requirement the human face would become extinct in a few generations.

I guess some thing are better left the way they are.

Let Darwin sort it out. 

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