Look to the south (Semi NSFW)

Inspiration is thin on the ground today. Here's some nice girls from Brazil to look at.

 Suddenly I feel better.

Midwatch

Through a random quirk, our schedule has been such that I haven't had to be on watch and idle for the midwatch in a while. For now, it's 3am, I've got 3 1/2 hours to wait until our next job, so it's been a good time to catch up on news, mail, and cooking dinner, too, of course. Tonight included a big as steak, zucchini and baked potato with many, many fixins'. I'm feeling fat and sassy.


   You know, southerners do that weird head-tilt thing like a dog does when you say something they don't understand.

    In pulling into Port Elizabeth, NJ earlier, we swung around to point bow out, so when we leave, it'll be a straight shot. When the tugboat deckhand asked what was up, I said "We're bangin' a yooey."

  Head tilt ensued.

 It's one of those things, I guess. Many southerners wouldn't understand that I was referring to a u-turn.

 I'd like to think that I'm a little more clued in, these days. For instance, I know that when a southerner says 'bless your heart' they're really saying "oh, fuck you."


 Strange, though, I didn't realize that Florida is mostly not part of the south. Now that I'm a resident, I realize that everyone moved there, but few were born there.

Stop this shit right now

God damn, I'm tired of these incessant articles on manhood and manliness, and why it's all bad.

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/oct/29/time-to-do-away-with-manhood
http://www.countrylife.co.uk/features/the-39-steps-to-being-a-gentleman-78780
http://www.chicksonright.com/cdc-spending-1-million-to-rid-young-men-of-rigid-masculinity/

I didn't link to any of those articles, because most of those assholes masturbate furiously to their sitemeter, so... fuck them, you know? I don't want to send them traffic, I just want to illustrate that there's a lot of women and men who want to be women (and men who want to be real men) who loathe, and self-loathe with furious abandon, the concept of traditional masculinity.


 Just... stop that shit, please.
If you don't know whether or not you're manly enough, you aint.
If you need someone else to validate your self-opinion, you aint a man, either.


     I'm not going to pontificate here. And you're welcome. It's time to stop this shit.

 People at work are occasionally surprised when I let slip some personal information and they realize that I'm actually a fairly sensitive, well-read and educated person. At work, that's not often what I project, and that's fine. I'm a voracious reader. Couple of books a week if I can get them. I'm a re-reader, too. I've been re-reading Moby Dick and Saint Augustine's "The City of God", for years, because I get more out of it as I've matured. Phenomenally nuanced stuff. Fuckin' magical. Plus, the story of the fall of Rome is more poignant today for us than in any time in recent memory.

 I'm vulgar and crude, not ignorant. I used to not be like that. It was an affectation when I quit being a biologist and started fishing full time. Eventually it wasn't an affectation anymore. My old roommate Johnny Sparks, an ironworker and business owner, used to introduce me as "My friend Paul. He studies crab balls and shit like that."  It was sea urchin gonadal tissue that I was studying, not crab balls, but you get the idea. Eventually it made me laugh every time he said that. At first I was kinda hurt.

 At any rate, my wife bitches sometimes that I'm overly masculine, sometimes a caricature of masculinity. I point out that she married me, and not one of the sensitive, soft-handed weepy Pajama Boys that she extols at times... and that's a fine life-lesson there: what women desire is a far cry from what women say they want.

 My own opinion, men should be able to look another man in the eye as equals and peers, whether they or your are flipping burgers, President of the US, Albert Einstein or Larry the Cable Guy. I figure if you're a self-aware person and you can talk to another man without the urge to condescend or gush, you're most of the way there.

 Am I there? I think so. I mean, it's a lifelong journey to go from here to the grave, so every man is a work in progress. I can stand among most any group and be unashamed of my masculinity. I've certainly been attacked for it, in my post-college days when I still had peers, mostly female, who were perpetual students and 'finding' themselves amidst social studies and other professional grade grievance mongering trades... most of whom, 20 years later, apparently still searching, from what I hear.

Well, whatever. Despite their disappointment, none of that matters. Women no more can help men find themselves as men qua men as Bruce Jenner can become a woman by mainlining estrogen and slapping on a pair of store-boughts. We're complementary in our traditional gender roles, not selectively hermaphroditic.  For those poor souls with genetic or behavioral issues that preclude them from finding a place among men despite their desire, it's probably a fairly nebulous distinction, but they're not going to find a place, however much their desire or fitness may scream for it.


   And that's sort of a shame, isn't it? Men operate best in a competitive environment where the rising tide lifts all boats. The competitive environment in which we most thrive, where we establish dominance hierarchies and lift each other up, is viewed as 'toxic' and something to be avoided in modern culture because inclusion is as much controlled by genetic fitness as behavior.  If that isn't a war on men, I don't know what is.

 Well, fuck it. I'm in an isolated environment, admittedly, here on the floating HQ. None of that awful PC shit reaches us.No 'Code of conduct' beyond common sense and being able to get along with people in close quarters in high-pressure situations. No giving a shit about a man because of his skin color or class, either, really. Racism doesn't work too well out here. 
   

inspection time

Well, we had our annual Coast Guard inspection yesterday. Of course it went pretty well. HAWSEPIPER's Afloat Global GQ/Center for Wicked Good Accents is a workhorse- not a showpiece, so it looks workmanlike- there's some rust, there's some stuff hanging up that could be hung up better, but we're ready for work and shit won't fly around if we were in a sea, and everything's to hand and seamanlike. So we did well.

 I was concerned about our safety gear, ground tackle, and being in 100% compliance with the myriad treaties, laws, codes and standards that we get pestered with constantly. We got gigged on some stuff- the Sea Scouts have to find SOMETHING, and, even though they walked past an unused escape hatch that had a box in front of it (a no-no), they were Deeply Concerned about minutia, stuff we missed, which took a grand total of 10 minutes to correct.

 The boss Coastie had me open up our void hatches, which only get opened to exercise the hatches and check for hull leaks during routine inspections- normally I carry around a 20lb sledgehammer to help open the hatches- but there was a gaggle of Coasties by my toolbox, so I just used the slab of my palm to open these watertight hatches instead... and knew, right away, that that was a mistake- first real strong hit, my hand went numb, and you know that feeling means that when it ain't numb no more, it's going to feel truly good.

 And it does. Today that hand doesn't feel nice. Thank God it's only my writin' hand, and not my nosepickin'/TP-holdin' hand.

filler post

Well, I'm not feeling the muse, as someone got me to try playing "Witcher: Wild Hunt" and I'm hooked.

 Here's some Brazilian girls to look at.

What a good day for hiding forever

Ever jam your foot in your mouth so hard that it was pretty much a case of shoving your foot out your own ass?

 That was me today. Tug captain with a stern demeanor, a guy I've never had a problem with, but apparently with a dry sense of humor, goofed on me making a minor boo-boo, and yelled 'get yer head outa yer ass!'

 What followed surprised even me. Total misread of the situation. I read it as him seriously being critical... and, stunned, said nothing, staring open-mouthed for about 5 seconds...and then absolutely EXPLODED. I cussed that captain up one side and down the other for a solid 30-45 seconds, saying some genuinely foul things... and he stares at me, open-mouthed, too, and says 'Jesus Christ, I was joking around with you! Didn't you see me smiling?"

 No shit. Soon as he said that, I realized that this captain had a very dry sense of humor and could nail a deadpan delivery- and I responded by being an utter dick.

 I wanted to light myself on fire at that point, but settled for apologizing profusely. What followed was about a half hour of hell, where I had to look at him, and his deckhand, who heard the whole thing, but tried to make me feel better by saying that he thought the captain was being serious at first, too.


 I'm not autistic, at least I didn't think so until today. I'm usually pretty good at reading social cues. Don't know where the hell I missed it, where I didn't see that this guy was looking to kind of establish a new rapport in our working relationship, where we could goof on each other lightly... and I proceeded to shit on that by getting absolutely premenstrual.

 Well, lesson learned. I told the captain later than they had to go, as I was too damn ashamed of myself to keep looking at them. To his credit he waved it off, saying that I wasn't going to live today down so easily.

 Anyhow, that was my moment. I know I have a big damn mouth sometimes, and definitely Monday Morning Quarterback more than I should, but that was a new low. Thank God the captain was cool about it. There are other folks, guys very much like me, that could have taken a poorly-received joke and escalated it into a moment where things go downhill even faster. Thank Goodness cooler heads prevailed.

 Obviously, after that I had to hide my face and not be seen in public. I went into full retreat, and still haven't poked my head outside, 8 hours later.

Stand by for glory

Well, I'm back at work, and there's much to be done. My time off was hectic and not so easy, and also awesome at times. Went back to Boston for the first time since I moved last year, but did so to visit my ailing mother. Returned to Florida and did a whole shitload of necessary financial planning, paid 1/2 golconda to the tax farmers of Massachusetts for my sins of being a resident last year, worked on the car and house, the usual, you know.
   My son had his first visit to the gun range. I think I was more excited than he was, but he did awesome, and we both had fun- he asked to try shooting trap this winter, so I'm going to have to introduce him to long arms, which should also be a good time. Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife is about ready for her first trip to the range, too. I've successfully turned her into a pro-2A immigrant, which, to my eyes, is the best kind of immigrant.  Some time around Thanksgiving she'll give it a try.
My kid had a 4 day scouting camp, so the wife and I took the opportunity to travel to the Keys (she'd never been), and we basically did the 40-something M.O. of lower keys visiting, mostly eating and drinking and watching people behave badly.

 Key West, well, I hadn't been for almost 20 years. My adult impression is that it is what you make of it. It's funny to watch middle aged people happily stumble from restaurant to bar and back, and my wife made me go to a drag show, which I tolerated well, right up until the dude in a dress on stage hiked up his skirt and did the whole Silence of the Lambs weiner-tuck dance to the cheers of folks who were into that and the dozen or so bachelorette parties that were there. Anyhow, after a backwash of hot bile passed, I was able to extricate myself shortly thereafter, so I guess like a handshake to the executioner, I should probably be thankful for whoever the hell it was up there looking like Dr. Frank N. Furter.

Oh, and also

NEW BLOGS


It's been forever, but say hello to some of my new daily stops when I'm online:

 The Bearded Backyarder  -   Home of Stackz O Magz, and there's tons of funny, useful and thoughtful material, often related to, but not limited to gun stuff, making stuff and not being a pussy about it.  Go. Now. Then come back. I'll wait. 

Fred on Everything-  Fred Reed is a retired war and newspaper reporter. Dude has seen some shit, and is wicked smaht, not to mention hmorous and painfully honest. Prepare to have your assumptions challenged. 


A Nod to the gods - just go there. You're welcome. Unless you're a pajama boy-style liberal pansy (but I repeat myself), in which case, well, you're not going to like it there.