A turn for the wurst

Sadly, the band has been split up. And by the band, I mean the Christian rock ensemble that I joined at Fort Hood for the brief 7 weeks we were stuck in one of the more economically depressed areas of the Lone Star State. Let me be clear about one thing, I never thought I would be telling anyone that I had joined a Christian rock ensemble, but then, stranger things have happened. My church attendance did rise dramatically, and my prowess as a bass player was easily doubled by all the enthusiastic practicing we did.

The real hope for us, since the band was easily converted to 80s and 90s rock thanks to our rythm guitarist's enormous repertoire, was to play at an imaginary beer hall that we would create at our spartan home in Afghanistan, called "The Bunker". The proprietor of this establishment was to be our illustrious XO- Major Von Lutzkreig. His German heritage is not entirely obvious to everyone, so he spends the majority of his life telling us about his love for all things German, or Irish. I told him that it wasn't fair to claim both of the "cool" heritages, but he says that somehow he has the blood of both in him. He further declares his favorite bar to be the Bier Garden in downtown Portsmouth, and gets giddy around October of each year, where his drinking deserves the description: ludicrous.

Alas, the band has been split up, and our equipment is lost somewhere over the ocean. All we have is a crappy drum set and an out of tune acoustic guitar. Not much to work with, so we don't bother to try.

In other news, Ryan wrote me a note, which I appreciated greatly. Thank you Ryan for taking the time to give your thanks for my sacrifice.

Pile-o-MIGs

Surrounding our abode is the detrius from a ten-year conflict with the Soviet Union. By that I mean there is literally a pile of Russian fighter jets sitting outside our wall. The remains of their tents, or buildings, generators, boilers, hangars and an assortment of unidentifiable twisted metal gives one the impression that something significant existed here at one point. Thirty years in this environment has made identification of anything but the aluminium fuselages of the jets close to impossible. I don't dare explore thanks to the threat of landmines and cobras. I want to pretty badly.

The best description I can come up with is that it looks like New Mexico here. The mountains are weird looking, that is an understatement. Not that you would be totally surprised by their appearance; they fit within the realm of possible natural occurances, but they are just unlikely and odd to my North American eyes. The striations of color are attractive, and can be seen at a great distance, which makes me think of all the pictures of the Grand Canyon I have seen. As much as it freaks me out, I think I want to go walk on that glass walkway that stretches out over that Grand abyss. I though The Abyss was a great movie, and I really it deserves a second watch when I get home. In The Abyss, James Cameron, in early Avatar fashion, shows us what incredible a-holes humans are. James; how about instead of making a movie that implies not how humans MIGHT destroy the planet, demonstrates how George Lucas DID destroy both Star Wars and Indiana Jones in the span of three years?

Afghanistan is actually very colorful: who knew there were so many shades of brown?

Catch-22, as it turns out, is a terribly enjoyable book. It starts out a bit like Napoleon Dynamite, where you are wondering what the heck the He-Man doll on the fishing line has to do with the plot...then you watch about 30 minutes and realize it has nothing to do with the plot. Maybe it's more like moving to Alabama, and having to figure out how they do things there before you begin to feel comfortable with catfisting. After a while, you're assimlated, but at first it can be very frustrating. What an awesome mockery of the military this book is.

Yossarian lives!