"Their View" Archives:

May 23, 2004

• Major General John Paul Vann: ‘The Cat’ (So You Wanna Talk About Vietnam? - Part 3)
• The Patriot Act is a Refuge for Scoundrels
• To Conspire or Not to Conspire, That is the Question

May 16, 2004

• Lyndon Banes Johnson: The Beagles Nightmare (So You Wanna Talk About Vietnam? Part 2)
• Abu Ghraib Ain't No Animal House
• Deconstructing the JFK Myth

May 9, 2004

• Vietnam And Current Demographics
  (So You Wanna Talk About Vietnam? Part 1)
• This Just In: John Kerry Is Dull
• None Dare Call It Conspiracy! 

May 2, 2004

• A Family Of Spies
  (Oh The Webs We Weave...)
• Grab Your Sweater: D.C.'s Feeling a Draft
• America First is Populism in Action

April 25, 2004

• A Place Called Perfect
• Articles of Confederation Was Preferable

April 18, 2004

• The Day I Learned To Shoot
• The Problem With Shock And Awe
  (Cleaning Up The Rest Of The Mess)

April 11, 2004

• Look, Boys! Now You Can Fight Like Real Men!
• Benighted Brains
  (It Only Makes Sense To ‘Thems’ and ‘Dems’)

April 4, 2004

• The Governor is a Harsh Mistress
• Hanoi John and Mutha Theresa
  (Benedict Arnold Takes Aim at Benedict Arnold)

March 28, 2004

• 9/11: Blood On Bush's Hands?
• Entangling Alliances (Not On My Tires, You Don't!

March 21, 2004

• Creating Iraq In Our Image
• The New Face of America
  (Ranting Sheep Are But A Tempest In A Tea Pot)

March 14, 2004

• To Rock the Vote, Knock It, or Block It
• Why I Still Like Bush (A Word to the Pseudo Cons)

What They Thought May 30, 2004

R.A. Hawkins
Jonathan David Morris
SARTRE

Click here for columnist bios

R.A. Hawkins
Colonel Dunn: A Gentle Reminder
(So You Wanna Talk About Vietnam? - Part 4)

I moved away from Columbine Knolls many years ago and seldom return since everyone else did the same thing. I get in touch with Pete once in a while and it won’t surprise some of you but he certainly isn’t a liberal. He grew up the day of the funeral in many ways.

Many years after moving away from Colorado I picked my wife up from work at the ammo plant nearby and she asked me a strange question. “Who was that guy you used to know who was the top guy in Vietnam?”

“Why?”

“The guy I work for was talking all day about his experiences in Vietnam. He was telling me about this guy who used to pull all of the locals together and get them motivated and infiltrating the Communists. He was a really tough guy. He knew how to motivate people and how to find all of the ones he needed to do the job. He said this guy was a real hero.

Needless to say the guy was already sounding pretty familiar to me. So I told her what his name was. The next night she got into the car and said he was the one that he had been talking about. Colonel Dunn had indeed been talking about General Vann. He told her stories about how he was absolutely destroying the Communists in Vietnam in spite of the best efforts of others to stop him. He never discussed the strange coincidences regarding the usual demise of those he managed to gather together. He didn’t have to however. I remembered on my own. I remembered something else too.

A few years after that Sheehan finished “A Bright and Shining Lie”. It was a book I never bothered to read because I knew he was one of those who didn’t see the big picture. I also knew about one thing he wasn’t going to put in that book for certain. Because of that I had no use for him or his book. He spent a lot of time writing about the dark side of John Vann and how that affected him and his view.

I already had a pretty good idea what his view was without bothering with reading the book, especially since he sold the rights to the movie to Hanoi Jane and her then husband, Ted Turner. I did see the movie when it was in the cheapo bin at one of the local stores. It paints the appropriate image of the type of soldier I always read he was when I happened across commentaries about General Vann. It showed the Vietnamese soldiers letting the enemy snipers get away and him grabbing a rifle and a chopper pilot and hunting them down. Now that’s a real soldier. The movie also showed the corruption in the government as well the Vietnamese military.

It also shows something happening that I know didn’t happen, unless it was an act for public consumption and a lot earlier. I don’t know if it was in the book but it was in the movie. It showed Daniel Elsberg basically calling General Vann a sellout and a bunch of other things. It shows Elsberg angry with him as they are in the airbase in Vietnam just before he died. Unfortunately Elsberg had already left Vietnam one year earlier. Why would a liberal bother with the facts though, they get in the way so much. They’re so darn thorny.

To me as I watched the movie I was amazed how they could intermix fact and fiction so seamlessly. I have to admit that I’m as impressed as I am disgusted. I get that same feeling when I see Kerry touted as a war hero. I know what a hero is, and Kerry isn’t one. He is a spin master reinventing himself like some changeling in a fantasy novel. I wonder if he will be able to reinvent himself when Hillary and company move in to destroy him politically so she won’t have to run against an incumbent Democrat in 2008. I suspect that will be happening pretty soon.

Next week the conclusion...

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Lady Liberty's "Their View" Contributors:

R.A. Hawkins
Richard Hawkins was born in Aurora, Colorado and grew up in Littleton, Colorado in a quiet little neighborhood nobody has ever heard of called Columbine Knolls. He has been married to the same woman for twenty-six years, and worked for the same aerospace company for twenty-eight. His primary interests over the years have been his family, sociology, mastering his survival skills, windsurfing, music, politics, raising wolves, art of all types, mycology, perma-culture, archeological anomalies, geo-politics and staying gainfully employed; not necessarily in that order. He often describes himself as a separate subspecies of human – ‘Eclecticus-Iconoclastimus’. His primary driving force is his unwavering belief that as sovereign citizens we are each responsible not only for our own beliefs and actions, but where those beliefs and actions take us in life: That the truly intelligent person learns to determine what the consequences might be for our beliefs and actions and then acts accordingly. Our individual actions always affect far more than we can imagine. R.A. Hawkins is the author of "Through Eyes of Shiva," available via Amazon.com. More of Mr. Hawkins' commentaries can be found on his web site, Entropical Paradise.

Jonathan David Morris
Jonathan David Morris is a political writer based in New Jersey. A strong believer in small government, JDM often takes aim at oppressive taxes, entitlements, and laws, writing about incompetence at the highest levels of culture and government. Catch his weekly ramblings on his web site.

SARTRE
SARTRE is the pen name of James Hall, a reformed former political operative. This pundit's formal instruction in history, philosophy and political science served as training for activism on the staff of several politicians and in many campaigns. A believer in authentic public service, independent business interests were pursued in the private sector. As a small business owner and entrepreneur, several successful ventures expanded opportunities for customers and employees. Speculation in markets, and international business investments, allowed for extensive travel and a world view for commerce. SARTRE's intent is to stir the conscience of those who desire to bring back a common-sense moral and traditional value culture for America. So who is SARTRE? He is really an ordinary man just like you, who invites you to join in on this journey.

Blue Ribbon Campaign
for Free Speech Online

Jonathan David Morris:
Persecution at the Shoe Store

It was a Friday night and my toes hurt.

Let me explain:

I wear New Balance sneakers. But not the good kind of New Balance sneakers (i.e., the kind well-known for their comfort). No. I used to wear the good kind. Now I wear the crappy kind. Factory rejects. I bought 'em at a discount department store.

Now, I'm not going to lie to you. I buy commercialized clothing. I pay $50 for $5 shirts with brand names. Abercrombie. Gap. You get the idea. I'm not ashamed to say it. And ordinarily, I'd do the same with my shoes. So the only reason I've been wearing a cheap pair of sneakers lately is because the expensive stores just haven't been carrying my size.

Ten and a half, that is.

Wide.

So it was a Friday night, a guys-night-out -- a dying ritual, I fear, since I'm soon to get married -- when I'd finally had enough. My sneakers were just flat out killing me that evening. I've had nothing but problems since buying them. They never tie evenly. I've got to double knot them because the shoelaces suck. Etc. Etc. And then there's the worst part -- the botched stitching inside the left sneaker. I hate the botched stitching. It cuts off my circulation each and every time. That's no way to spend an evening. Limp like that. So finally, after several months, I stopped by the mall to look for a perfect new pair -- my sole mates, if you will.

I went into a store called Champs.

Don't know if you've heard of it. When my brother and I were younger -- 10 and 14, respectively -- we wanted to work there. I'm not sure why. All they're good for is tube socks and Celtics jerseys. I think we liked their selection of Champion ski jackets back then.

But anyway, I go into Champs, and my toes are twitching with the thought of breaking free. Toes aren't as smart as tongues. Tongues are like little detectives. But toes are still pretty smart. They sense things. And so mine walked me over to a nice pair of Nike sneakers -- gray and blue, just like the Civil War.

Now, it's been years since I've worn anything Nike. It's been years since I've just done it. And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I feel like doing it ever again. Nike's played out. It's so five-minutes-ago, for a brand whore like me. But at that point I was thinking, "Hey, if the shoe fits…"

Right around then, a female employee -- a cold slice of pizza, this one -- came up to me and asked, "Was there anything I could help you with?"

I don't know.

Was there?

Did I miss it?

"Yes," I said, "but not yet."

She half-laughed and went about lacing some shoes.

So I strolled a bit further down the sneaker shelf, taking my sweet time. I saw some Chuck Taylors. You know, the ones by Converse? These ones were red, white, and blue, and they looked like American flags. Perhaps that's a metaphor. I don't know.

And soon I found myself thinking, God, doesn't anyone make good looking sneakers anymore? Why is it even plain sneakers are ugly nowadays? You know I'm not against sweatshops. They're good for Third World economies. If it isn't forced labor, I think it's okay. But to think these poor kids are sweating over absolutely atrocious sneakers -- I'm sorry, it's just wrong.

"Mommy!" I heard a little girl yell just then.

I looked to my right.

And there she was -- all of 4 -- running right past me, pigtails flailing, nearly knocking me down.

She stopped with a hop, a skip, and a jump near the end of the shelf, pivoted, and screamed to her mom again, "Mommy!" And then she ran back in the direction she came from, pigtails flailing, once again nearly knocking me down.

I looked at Cold Pizza, still lacing up sneakers.

Cold Pizza sort of snarled and said, "Don't you just wish you could trip these kids sometimes?"

The little girl hugged her mother's leg.

"No," I said, "I wish I could kick them in the head."

Cold Pizza half-laughed a second time, which, according to my calculations, equals one whole laugh.

As if kicking kids in the head is socially acceptable.

Well, who knows, maybe it is here in Champs land? Who am I to judge?

So I turned back to the shelf for a second, picked out another Nike and a third shoe by New Balance, and then -- sure I'd found the only three sneakers worth buying -- I said to Cold Pizza, "If you'd like, you can help me now." My fingers were crossed.

She stopped lacing shoes and said to me, "Sure. What size?"

"Ten and a half," I told her. "Wide."

"Great," she said.

Great, indeed. And a feeling of victory overcame me. I could taste it now.

"Oh, but you know what?" she said. "We don't carry these sneakers in wide."

Darn.

"Just these sneakers?"

"Any sneakers," she said. "We don't sell stuff for people with wide feet. Maybe you can try a Size 11."

"But I'm not an eleven," I told her. "I'm a ten and a half. If I wanted eleven, I'd ask for eleven. But I didn't. I asked for ten and a half."

She shrugged.

And then something hit me. For as long as I live, I'll probably never know what it was. But something hit me. A thought occurred. What if this was it? What if this was my meal ticket?

In my day, I've been yelled at for using slang words like "gay" and "retarded," by people who won't even let me call gay and retarded folks those words. And I've been yelled at for comparing the Atkins diet to ethnic cleansing in front of people who count their carbs religiously. I've been called "insensitive," "uncaring," "close-minded" -- an "asshole" -- for speaking my mind, or just speaking, on matters big and small. It never ends. And I've seen folks get rich by complaining.

I looked her dead in the eye -- Cold Pizza -- and I said to her, "What do you mean you don't sell stuff for people with wide feet? That's like saying you don't sell stuff to black people. This is discrimination. I could sue you, you know."

She looked around.

She looked nervous.

And I know I hit a nerve.

I was right. I could sue. And hell, I could win. It doesn't matter how stupid it would be. If Champs doesn't sell enough wide-sized shoes to make it worth selling them, that isn't my fault. I didn't ask to be different. I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask for any of it.

Our world is run by people with feet as narrow as their perspective. And this was my chance to make a buck off of that.

And so I looked Cold Pizza up and down for a moment.

And I thought it over.

And my toes twitched.

I dropped the sneakers. I ran my hand through my hair. And I said to her, "Something seems unfair about this," turned, and walked out of the store.

I went out that evening. And I had a good time.

I could've been rich, you know. That's the kind of world I live in. But I'm a busy man. And I don't have time for frivolous lawsuits.

Yet, still, I wear uncomfortable shoes.

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SARTRE Encore Presentation
NO COLUMN - MEMORIAL DAY BREAK

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