No, Michael Moore, Just No.

Here’s what started today’s post.

Saw a repost of this on Facebook and went ballistic in a comment but I figure this is important enough to share with everyone else because of the sheer amount of misinformation packed into two sentences. Anyways, here’s how I would respond to Mr. Moore if I was given the chance:

First Impressions

So, a lot of people know that I’m a WWII reenactor/living historian.  We’re all aware it’s kind of a strange hobby and I probably spend way too much time, money, and energy on it.  And I will grant that’s entirely possible.  However, I’d like to take this opportunity to show the world what really goes into this hobby of mine that I love so dearly and what I’ve been working at since last February when Maggie arrived.  Basically I got interested in what war dogs did during WWII and began wondering if I could create a war dog handler (handler being the human who works with the dog) impression.  What’s an impression, you ask?  Good question.  It’s what a reenactor works at most of the time.  It’s putting together the right uniform, equipment, and weapons for a typical soldier in a specific unit during a specific timeframe.  This is something common to all reenacting, whether it’s Civil War, WWII, Roman Legion, etc.  What I’m going to show you in this post is the research and synthesis from the months of reading, looking at photos, and interviewing a WWII veteran, an extremely generous fellow without whom this would not be possible, named Mr. William Garbo.  The synthesis is what’s in the pictures you’ll see of Maggie and me.  After a couple months of research, it took several months to track down the right items and then find them for the right price.  So, this is what I posted under the “Detailed Impression Photos” section of an online forum for WWII reenactors.  Some of it will make sense to you, some of it won’t.  Just skip the stuff that doesn’t make sense and look for something you do find interesting.

So, I Haven’t Posted in Months, But . . .

. . . here’s what I would have posted about:

Teeth.

I’m a spectacular procrastinator and one of the things I’ve successfully put off for several years now, if not a decade or more, is getting my wisdom teeth out.  I’m generally squeamish about surgery so this isn’t a big surprise or anything, but it’s really something I need done as my other teeth are pushed around by these bullying molars.  Right now I’m blaming my procrastination on the IRS also being spectacular procrastinators with my $8,000 first time home buyers tax credit (thank you and you and you, tax payers!).  But when that money gets here I guess I’ll have to bite the bullet (pun!) and get it done.  However, wisdom teeth are just part of my dissatisfaction with everything enamely inside my mouth.  I consider myself a pretty big fan of much of the human body and its complexities and effeciences, but I have a feeling that teeth are the part God rushed through in order to meet that day or 6 deadline (“Hmmm, they need something to chew with.  How about a couple of boney bits and call it a day?”).  It also doesn’t help that I don’t have great teeth.  My dad’s side of the family is all manner of British while my mom’s side is all colonial, so I’m going to blame it on my UK ancestry.  Personal opinions aside though, they stink.

“Warts and all”

One of the perks about moving is a new commute and my path to and from work takes me past Eastfield Presbyterian Church.  I think the place recently shut down (maybe the preschool is still going?) but still conspicuous outside is an American flag.  A pretty tattered flag, faded and ragged.  One time while a friend and I were driving past I commented someone should take it down so it could be disposed of properly. We talked a little bit about the fact that there is actually a protocol and a ceremony for “putting down” old American flags and my friend made the comment that a flag burning ceremony seems a bit superfluous for what is essentially a symbol.  I didn’t quite agree, having grown up learning about flag etiquette through the Boy Scouts, but I also couldn’t quite put it into words why it would be something more than just a symbol.  It’s just one of those things that you do.  So, I didn’t quite have an answer, but decided to file the question away to think about later. 

My Least Favorite Genre

Bet you can’t guess what my leasy favorite genre is.  Romantic comedy?  Musical?  Documentaries about poor kids sniffing glue?  No, nope, and nyet.  By far the genre that I loathe the most and the aisle in the video store I never go down is horror.  Never liked it.  Never have.  I just have never felt the need to pay someone to scare me.  Or try to scare me.  That’s not to say I have never seen a horror flick, but I haven’t seen most of them.  Never seen a Friday the 13th or Halloween or Nightmare on Elm Street.  But if I’ve never seen the classics of the genre, how can I say that I don’t like the genre?  Well, that’s a fair question, but only if genre is the point.

That Dweam Within a Dweam

I have a friend who once told me that he believed that there are two things that should not change the public’s perception of a person in political office: military service and marital infidelity.  It was his belief that what a person did or did not do in those two realms shouldn’t have any bearing on how he or she is perceived by the public.  I was reminded of this recently with the news that the governor of South Carolina took off to Argentina for five days to see his mistress.  One of the days he was gone was Father’s Day.  His wife and four kids apparently thought he was on the Appalachian Trail.  As did most of his staff.  Hearing the stories come out of this new scandal reminded me why I pretty much completely disagree with my friend, at least on the marriage part.

Epic Fail

I’m going to have to qualify this post before I even begin it.  This is not fishing for sympathy or compliments.  Any comments made in that vein will be deleted ’cause I have that power.  Nor am I angry with anyone here.  So, why write this post?  ‘Cause sometimes blogging is really just forcing yourself to sit down and type out the situation to make you think things through.  So, if I have to make my predictions now, the moral of the story will probably come out as “I’m getting older” since that’s been the trend (notice how fat the tag for “Oldness” is over there).  Okay, disclaimers made, thanks for still reading if you are still here and, I’m not kidding, I will do some delete comment smackdown if anyone tries to validate me ’cause that’s not the point.

The Revolution Will Be Tweeted?

Let me start off with saying that I’m pretty pleased that the Iranian people are off their butts and risking life and limb to participate in the democratic process.  It goes without saying that is impressive, especially from my context: a supposed democracy where barely half the population can drag themselves to a polling station despite a lack of threats.  So, that’s cool in my book.  Way to go, Iran.  What boggles my mind, however, is that Twitter and YouTube are being lauded as the harbingers of revolution as Iranians have been able to plan protests via Twitter and document the proceedings with cell phone video cameras via YouTube. 

Escapism: Rationalized

This is something that I’ve always had a hard time understanding about myself: that somehow the ability to care for our own world can come in second to imagined worlds.  It’s not that hunger, poverty, oppression, exploitation, and conflict don’t bother me, they very much do, but if I’m honest, I might have gotten just as worked up about the Weinstein brothers trying to remove the soul of Fanboys.  So, I have a lot of respect for folks who care very deeply about real world issues and are advocates for change (my wife, for instance; Joel Daniel Harris too).  That’s all not to say I don’t do my part, I do, but if you look at where the majority of my time and energy go, it ends up going to escapism.