Simulacrum

Simulacrum- "a likeness, a resemblance, a sham"

I think that we have become a people of simulacrum. Many of the soldiers I have met compare their experiences of combat to movies like "Blackhawk Down". We live in a world of representations. William Gibson has brought this up from time to time, with the notion that humans create a super-reality for themselves. The idea of the superlative in motion, a thing refined past any resemblance to its progenitor. It takes some time for the American in me to quiet its desire to see things as superlatives, or archetypes. Having no real experience of life outside my own familiar surroundings, I tend to ascribe to my experiences some pre-conceived attribute in order to try and make sense of it. The real learning comes with the sublimation of the simulacrum by the real. Preconceptions fade in the continued presence of the real. The immediacy of the experience defies the abstraction. Fuad replaces Oliver Twist. South Africans become more complicated.

Jalalabad

This morning my colleague Joe and I jumped on a plane to Jalalabad, which is off to the east towards Pakistan. We make these occasional forays out into the country to check on outposts set up by one of the programs for which we work. The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane was the humidity. Kabul is dry, like Martini dry. When we disembarked the aircraft (our faithful Russian-made, Armenian-piloted Antonov cargo prop), it felt like I'd somehow been transported back to North Carolina in the middle of the worst of the summer heat. The second thing I noticed was sporadic gunfire to the west. No-one seemed too concerned, so I asked one of the security guys if there was a shooting range nearby. He relied in the affirmative and advised me that they "always have to tell those guys to stop shooting when the planes come in, since the impact area for the gunfire includes the runway." Welcome to J-Bad. As we were driving around, I talked to our driver about the U.S. military presence in the area. Jalalabad sits on the major route to the Khyber Pass, which is the major route into Pakistan. It turns out there are some Marines up there, which may include some of my former students (I know there in Afghanistan). Now the only question is whether or not I can wrangle an excuse to jump on the plane again and go up there again for a few days.

The Lure

It's Thursday night. Thursday night is our one real night off, the time when we drink too much and tell each other about how it used to be when we were "In". This guy that I work with used to do the job that I wanted to do, the job that I signed up for. This may seem obscure to some, but for those of you who know, just consider my past profession and you'll get the idea. Tonight he told us, "Yeah, if you want to do it I could make it happen." This is a dangerous temptation for me. We come from a field where the options are limited, and the job we all wanted to do is done by members of others services, more elite groups than our own. It is neither a question of training, nor ability, it is a simple question of opportunity. We, who spent long years in the Corps, working harder than our peers to acheive a modicum of respect, we desired above all else to be this unique thing. "Operators" is one word for it. Now, we have left this concept behind, understanding that it will never be realised for us. I left this idea behind, because I knew that it would not happen. Now I have met someone who went down the path that I wanted to take. I would not take it now, there are other things which make the decision too complicated. But part of me will always wish that I had become that thing, the pinacle of our profession. Part of me will always know that I could have been, but chose not to be. In the final analysis, some sacrifices are not worth making. This is mostly directed to my family, who can be thankfull that I did not chose the path I could have taken. In the end it was a simple choice.

Quote of the Day

"AMTRACK? You mean they carry people, too? I thought they just carried, like, freight."
-The Revelations of Matt Heath

Ron Reagan

I grew up thinking that Ron Reagan's dad should probably be that third guy in the last ring of Dante's Inferno. I may have become more politically moderate than I was in my wayward youth (ages 2-6), when nukes were bad (no other description necessary) and picket lines were just what families did together. Later, I joined the Corps, spent some time propogating "American Imperialism" and went to far-off lands with a uniform and a gun. So maybe I've fallen a little farther from the tree than some. Ron Reagan (the younger) wrote this article about the mendacity of the current administration. I really don't mind if people vote for Bush. I believe fervently in the democratic process and the value of dissent. I just want people to know what they're voting for.