Newton's Third Law

Teenagers. Hormonally rampant kids, some in adult-ish bodies, all with a kid's head. Question: at what point and time do kids get treated like adults. In most municipalities, that is age 18; at that point, the parents are no longer held legally responsible for whatever is done. However, there are situations where someone under that age is held responsible for their adult-like actions (and consequences), such as what is occuring here in Atlanta.

A 16-year-old girl accused of killing a mother of three in a Roswell Road crash two weeks ago was using her family's 2003 Mercedes as an instrument of suicide, never letting off the accelerator as she slammed into the oncoming car, authorities said Thursday.

The teen, Louise Egan Brunstad, survived the crash with minor injuries but on Thursday was charged with felony murder. Prosecutors intend to try her as an adult, and she faces an automatic life sentence if convicted.

Now, if things were left simply at that, someone with a half an ounce more compASSion than I have might think, "Oh, the poor girl; she just didn't know what she was doing." However, as the details of the story start coming out, things change:

The student at Holy Innocents' Episcopal School in Sandy Springs had been moved to despair after a fellow student rejected her romantic advances, prosecutors said. She was driving the Mercedes north on Roswell Road when she crossed into oncoming traffic, striking a car driven by Nancy Salado-Mayo.

Before hitting the gas, Brunstad had sent a text message to the student she had a crush on, said Paul Howard, the Fulton County district attorney. "She was actually counting down her imminent threat: 'Nine, eight, seven, six ... I'm going to do it.' "

Painting a little clearer picture, now?

Now, do not get me wrong. I honestly do feel bad for all families involved in this horrible event; one family lost a wife, mother; the other might as well have lost their child for the remainder of their lives.

What sets me off are the people now writing in to the AJC:

I can only imagine the loss felt by the family of the woman killed because of the teen's lack of judgment. But I can also imagine a wonderful young girl, confused and unable to cope, thinking that taking her life was her best option. How easy it is for us to harden our hearts and seek revenge. I can think of no other term to describe the DA's action.

Should this teen be punished? Of course. Her actions caused one family's life to be tragically changed forever. But, treating her as an adult is not justice. It's vengeance.

Driving is an adult privilege; things that happen when you take part in adult activity bear adult consequences. This isn't about vengeance - it's about removing somebody from society who valued her own life more than anyone else's to the point of taking another life in that process. Not to mention that the family of the deceased deserve some manner of justice.

That I Should be So Lucky Blessed

Most of you know of my accident from this past February (those of you that don't, read here) - in short, it was a head-on collision that I walked (limped) away from. Of course at the time, you just think to yourself of how much worse it could have been, then you're thankful that it was what it was and you're still around.

A few months ago, we found out a friend was killed in a wreck (I think head-on; the other guy was a meth-head). This past weekend his wife delivered their third child.

Last week, a high school friend of mine was killed in a head-on in my hometown - the other guy was trying to dodge a deer.

Also last week, a high school friend of someone in our Sunday School class lost her husband in a head on accident.

Some would say I was lucky - not a good thing to say in my book, as I am about as fond of the word "lucky" as I am "fair." I consider myself blessed.

As an exercise for yourself, swap the two words; when you want to tell someone they're lucky, substitute blessed. It's a different (I say better) mindset.

Wedding in Jersey

As I have generally trodden through the slough of midterms mostly unscathed, I can now return to my normal plithy sarcastic self, offering commentary on nearly everything that remains of general uninterest to most folks with a 7th grade education or a large number of cats (greater than one) in their household. This is not to say that I will disappear again, dear reader; for the monolith that is finals looms in the not too distant future, as does the fire-spitting, Mt. Doom of Thanksgiving with my wife's in-laws. Please pray for the pygmies...

This past weekend, the misses dressed up like a cute lil pumpkin to be a bridesmaid for her cousin at a little wedding in a little church in a little town in Georgia. This is probably the last time the word little in describing this event. As with most weddings there was plenty o'drama a-swirling; I won't detail the dirty laundry here (mostly b/c I don't really know or understand it fully myself), but lemme 'splain... no, there is too much - lemme sum up:

• Until 8 months ago, Bride had nothing to do with extended family beyond Mama, Brutha, and mean old Stepfather - not much love for the Original Daddy of Birth (henceforth referred to as ODB) or Grandma and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins (henceforth referred to as The Peasants). Bride wakes up from the washing of the brain(at age 29), contacts ODB (not having seen or heard from for 15 years), and shortly thereafter, becomes engaged. (And the Peasants rejoiced.)
• Bride sets about planning wedding alone. No bossy woman telling people (men) what they're doing wrong. No order to the universe. Dogs and cats start shacking up. Get the picture?
• The setting - Jersey, GA. Population 40. They're all invited. They're all firemen. They all were in the woods at 4:30am the morning of the wedding (including women, excluding the bride). Only one confirmed report of a deer sighting; no shots fired.

I was there only for two things, and two things only. As my wife was an elected pumpkin in charge of straightening The Dress, I was a gopher; something about her dress didn't allow movement. The second charge laid upon me, I gladly accepted - my stomach was needed. This being a proper Baptist church, there was the worry of not enough food; this was quickly turned in to a panicked realization that the modern human does not possess 3 stomachs when the food hit the tables. This is the first time in the history of me that I can recall having three meals in the span of only 4ish hours; brunch was done at 10am (hmmm, choco-chip pancakes), lunch was done at noonish (hmmm, barbecue), and supper was served at about 2:15 (hmmm, wings, meatballs, cake!). Gluttony, thy name is Galen.

Book review - Shooter by Jack Coughlin

The idea of snipers on a battlefield is not a new concept - there are reports of sharpsooting regiments back in the days of the Revolutionary war. During the Civil war, they were referred to as skirmishers, but their job remained the same - one shot, one kill, the ultimate in battlefield efficiency. Snipers really weren't a mainstay in the military, though, until Vietnam. Before then it was seen as a plus to the platoon or squad to have a sharpshooter, but it wasn't a significant part of the battle plan.

Vietnam ushered in a new era of sniper doctrine and training. Shooters were paired with a spotter, often a fellow marksman, and sent in to the jungle with a squad on patrol. The shooter would then find what he considered a good hide and set up camp waiting on enemy troops (or sometimes, an opposing sniper). In short, the tropical jungles made the country an ideal hunting grounds for all marksman.

That was 40 years ago, and times most certainly have changed. Now, instead of dense jungles, rooftops and urban battlefields are the norm. While a good marksman could still remain up to a half mile away and still provide effective cover for advancing troops, it's almost a waste of skill.

Thus the reason for Jack Coughlin, the Marines top ranked sniper during the Iraq war, writing Shooter: The Autobiography of the Top-Ranked Marine Sniper. In this he explains not only his background and training, but also his idea for a mobile sniper squad to roam the field, engaging targets with the front line instead of sitting back and waiting.

This is a raw and uncensored book that gives insight in to Coughlin's mind, everything from how he integrates with his family and fellow Marines as well as his thoughts on the man that he's about to kill. The bulk of the second half of the book is the Iraq war and the action is pretty intense from the moment he crosses the border. He never really gets in to the politics of it all, save a justified swipe at Rumsfield; instead, he concentrates on the task at hand, resolving it down to "people are shooting at us, time to stop'em." There is a somewhat interesting sequence near the end of the book as his squad, one of the first in to Baghdad, comes across some of the "human shield" anti-war protestors - one moment he's biting his tongue to not say anything in reply, the next he's having to actually defend them.

At times, the action is quite riveting, but by the end, it's very repetitive. Even the language used gets very clichéd (it felt like he used the term "smokecheck" a dozen times on some pages) and quite coarse (can't fault it there - they are Marines). The action sequences are a little disjointed - when perched on the back of a humvee, things tend to zip by; setting up on a rooftop, though, not so enthralling. Coughlin's attitude, as well, is a bit tough to swallow, too. You expect a certain degree of confidence in any person's field of expertise; Coughlin treads that line between confidence and downright arrogance like a sumo wrestler on a tightrope.

In the end, it makes for an interesting read. The viewpoint of the soldier on the ground in this war that's half way around the world from us is a bit refreshing (as opposed to the embedded reporters that the writer refers to as jackals). It's not quite high level prose, but it's not really meant to be. While Charles W. Henderson's books on Hatchcock are better, this one's a good read for those interested in the mindset and mentality of the most efficient killing machine in the military. My score: 7 out of 10.

Song for mistreated workers

Disclaimer - listen to this at work at your own risk. Use headphones. It's nothing severely obscene, except for the fact that you're going to have this stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

Uh-oh... she's on to me

So last night, after being at school most of the day and finally turning in my (somewhat) functioning first project for my digital design course, I return to my humble abode and find Mrs. Misawa snuggled under a blanket with two cats around her head and a donkey (read: our dog) at her feet. This is not a very unnatural state to find my betrothed in at any time of the year - she's got some lizard blood in her somewhere. Nevertheless, I bid her greetings and salutations and begin putting my stuff down and attempting to wind down so as not to stare at the ceiling for an hour after getting in the bed. In my weary state, I missed it.

Now, I'm no Shelock Holmes or Dr. House, but I'm failry observant - had something been misplaced near the refrigerator, I most definitely would have seen it. However, it was near the sink, which in my house is known as woman's territory uninteresting to me; it's an area that involves cleaning, and as I am prone to dirt and generally only clean important things (guns, cars, etc.) that do not require this particular apparatus, it's just not a place that comes up on my radar.

Therefore, the Honorable She Who Must Be Obeyed brought it to my attention. My thoughts are in italics.

She - "Don't toss this or use it - it's a fabric swatch." [waving said swatch at me, similar to signaling a surrender]

Me - Yikes! What the heck is that?! I'm afraid to even wipe a dish with it. "What is it?"

Her - "It's a swatch mom gave me - I'm getting a formal chair to go in our living room; she's covering it in this so it'll match our couch."

Me - Processing... chair, cloth, living room, matching... huh? "Say again?"

She - "Mom's got a chair that will have this fabric on it" - holding closer as if I'm the one that needs glasses or contacts (read: I'm not) - "and then we'll put it in the living room."

Me - The living room? The room where nobody lives? With a couch that nobody sits on? Where on earth will she put it in there? [Turns to walk in to den to get a better picture of the living room, ensuring that everything that was there still is, including all 4 walls]

Her - "Don't be a smarty!" [tone - you know the tone]

Me - Uh oh... she's on to me. She knows I'm about to be a fool. To follow my destiny or not... "But, where are we going ot put it?"

She - [smirking] "Over in that corner." [points to a corner with a small rocking chair, table, TV, piano, and small specks of pooh]

Me - "But where are we going to put the Christmas tree?"

Her - "Are you an interior decorator?" [hand on hip, evil twin waiting to leap out and eat my face]

Me - Nope. "Yes."

Time to Arm the Shepherds

The recent increase in school shootings (five this year, all in the past 6 weeks) have prompted one Wisconsin representative to wake up:

A state lawmaker, worried about a recent string of deadly school shootings, suggested arming teachers, principals and other school personnel as a safety measure and a deterrent.

It might not be politically correct, but it has worked effectively in other countries, Republican Rep. Frank Lasee said Wednesday.

"To make our schools safe for our students to learn, all options should be on the table,"he said."Israel and Thailand have well-trained teachers carrying weapons and keeping their children safe from harm. It can work in Wisconsin."

Lasee said he planned to introduce legislation that would allow school personnel to carry concealed weapons. He stressed that it would hinge on school staff members getting strict training on the use of the weapons, and he acknowledged he would have to work around a federal law that bans guns on school grounds.

Of course, the peace-at-any-price crowd cannot go unheard of on this issue [director of school safety for Milwaukee Public Schools, Pete Pochowski]:

"Statistically, the safest place for a child to be is in school,"Pochowski said."We have problems in our schools, but not to the point where we need to arm our teachers and principals."

Well, golly, Pete. Maybe we can get Ward to give the meanie's a good stern talking to and that will get them to change their mind. I'm sure the idea of disappointing someone will stop them from going on a murderous rampage.

Bullbutter.

Look, if there were a magic bubble* that we could erect around a school to protect our children from harm, I'd be one of the first to chip in. But until NASA figures out the whole force-field thing, why not give teachers - or at least administrators - that complete firearms training a method of defending not only themselves, but also the sheep they've been asked to tend? Don't you think that would cause the criminal minded at least a moment's pause, knowing that they can't just run in to the flock willy-nilly to do their devilish deeds?

And when I say training, I'm not talking about an hour at the range with Bubba McSmithnwesson. I'm talking tactical based teaching with live fire exercises in buildings, something darned close to SWAT and SEAL short range tactics.

It's time to wake up and realize that schools aren't the safe haven that people think it is. Time to arm the shepherds and let them protect their (our) flock.

*many anti-gun nuts and most liberals seem to think that just such a bubble is created when a law is passed prohibiting guns from a particular place. When you ban guns from an area, you only prevent law abiding citizens from carrying - criminals don't care about the law (thus the name criminals).

"A real life horror movie"

Five girls are now dead from the shooting in the Amish country in Pennsylvania. The title quote to this post is the best words I've heard yet to describe this whole situation. There are thousands of words I want to use, pounds and pounds of vitriol and venom I want to heap on to this man that decided to settle a 20 year old grudge with a defenseless bunch of girls that he had never met in his entire life and that, had he given them a chance, would have shown him more about mercy, grace, and forgiveness than (sadly) most First churches of any kind. I fear at this point, the Amish are realizing just how far down hill the country they live in has gone; the line between them and us has blurred more.