The Taming Of The Truth

Posted on June 24, 2012. Filed under: KBR | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

7th in the series The Great Cluster Fu...   A treatise on questionable journalism and pre-litigation practices.

Your words for the day

  • milieu = surrounding environment              
  • WAG = wild ass guess (your acronym for the day)

Two quick notes here:

  1. I really hate to paint the following picture for you, but it has to be done.
  2. I was saving this for toasts in later posts, but, go ahead and get out that bottle of Georgia wine (from the country, not the state) and have that glass handy.  Use as needed like Tums or Alka-Seltzer to settle your stomach.

Okay.  Here we go —

Super Dan standing on the high ground, wide stance, knuckles turned against hips, elbows out, red cape gently billowing in the breeze.  Shoulders back, chin jutted forward in fearless challenge, eyes panning the landscape with a steely gaze (like a photo op for Superman, himself…  ?   Oh, no!  That will never do.  Instead of those blue tights, let’s make that a medium blue 3-piece suit.  If he insists, he can wear red boxers — just not on the outside.)  he assesses the playing field.  To his right, at his feet, an at-the-ready milking stool;  to his left, an upscale leather brief case dubbed “the bag of tricks.”  Ear buds firmly in place, iPod securely clipped to his belt, he listens to a chorus of adding machines singing out a soothing string of numbers punctuated here and there with dollar signs, and, way down there to the right, a decimal point.  Mightily, he wants this to happen.

Meanwhile, back on Earth…

  • His client is an ill soldier (WAG) who, ostensibly, contracted his malady as a result of his duty assignment during US combat operations.  He belongs to the military;  can’t sue them.
  • His client was working in close proximity to civilians on a project ordered by the US military in a war zone.  No money in suing individuals.
  • Those civilians were contracted by a US corporation…   a very large corporation.  It’s just that blasted “acts of war” thing, like garlic to a vampire (a competing blood-sucker) that keeps Danny Boy’s grasping fingers just out of reach.

But, what if…?  If only he could get that corporation relocated to an unprotected non-war zone, there might be possibilities for hooking up the old milk machine.  Bring ’em back to the good ol’ Litigation Nation where the juries really like to see the big ones fall.  Danny Boy perked right up;  the game is afoot!

Danny Boy’s salt shakers trembled with anticipation.  He realized he didn’t really need to relocate the mark corporation.  Consider the old drama class in high school — maybe college.  Like a theater production, the actors hold their places on stage while the stage hands drop a different scene behind them.  The script remains unchanged, but, the new background changes the context of the actions and dialogue.

EXISTING SCENE:  A shooting war in which events are a chess game between opposing military commanders who move their forces (troops, equipment, and civilian personnel) into places and situations based on operational requirements bound to operational time lines NOT predicated on CAREFULLY RESEARCHED SAFETY FACTORS AND ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT STUDIES.  These forces report resistance from, and other impediments to, the targeted objectives TO SPECIFIED COMMANDERS (i.e., they follow the chain of command).  In military operations, first ACHIEVE THE OBJECTIVE!  THEN report casualties and other loses.  Such is war.

THE DREAM SCENE:    What war?

Wow!  I repeat, WOW!   Danny Boy has some really big salt shakers.

Next up:  Truth.  Beauty.  Mud.  It’s in the eye

Series references:  KBR, Mary L. Wade, Qarmat Ali, Doyle Raiznor, Ms. Sparky, litigator, sued, cluster, deposition, hexavalent chromium

Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )

The Missing Bookend

Posted on March 18, 2012. Filed under: Humor, Memories | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |

What kid doesn’t want a horse?  How many kids actually get a horse?  It’s not like you can keep them in the house or apartment, ’cause paper training is — to borrow a term from the canine scene — a real bitch.  Forget newspapers.  Think snow shovel.  While the aroma of those scoopings may be several degrees “more pleasant” than that of traditional carnivorous pets, I’m betting that, for tedium, sheer quantity trumps malodorous every time.  There are probably other disadvantages to keeping a 16-hand ungulate tethered to your bed post, but, I forget what they are right now.

The virtual horsey, though, is a staple of childhood.  It gets staked out in that place where every child spends most of its time, that realm of fantasy called imagination.  No snow shovels required there.  Those guys neither eat nor (in the words of televisions’s detective Adrian Monk) un-eat.  All they do is carry the child’s imagination into one adventure after another without the baggage of troublesome chores.

From my childhood, I recall a set of bookends that were cast in metal into the shape of a saddled horse nibbling grass from around its front feet.  Not the best pose for riding into adventure, but, it was workable.  With index- and middle finger astraddle the saddle,  the free hand took that steed in a gallop into all sorts of action.  Yes, indeed, I did get that horse my child-side always wanted.

But there was a rift between fantasy and reality.  My valiant steed had but a single chore to do, and, that was to keep my parents’ books arranged neatly on the shelf.   Going out to play with me left that single chore undone, and, those books sorta got in a state of disarry.  When adventure time was done, I had to straighten those books and slip that bookend back into place so that order and neatness reigned again.  And, I wouldn’t get grounded.

Flash forward a couple of decades (eh, maybe more), and look back at that bookshelf in both a state of order and a state of disarray.  Two bookends equaled order and neatness; one bookend, however, had order near it, but, the farther out you went from it, apparent order became blurred in a heap.  And, I thought…

Life is what happens between two bookends, birth and death.  The longer I travel the road of LIFE, more and more “books” are left behind me.  At some point, the disarray of NOW sort of props up the books behind me so that I can see childhood, teens, military service, whatever, as clean-cut accounts of my journey.  But, the muck of the recent past and the uncertainty inherent in NOW lends an air of disorder to my present path, and, that breeds angst, frustration, hope, satisfaction…??   Hey!  That’s LIFE, isn’t it?  And, my life only has one bookend…

Now, where’s that bottle?  Got the glass.  Ah, there it is!  A red wine from Georgia (the country, not the state).  Pour it into the glass…  Okay!  A toast to that missing bookend:  “May your playtime last a long, long time.  Don’t take it personal, but, that chaotic bookshelf looks just fine without you.”

Next up:  Pismire

Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )

Liked it here?
Why not try sites on the blogroll...