CNN is reporting that Washington diplomats are complaining about a policy that may force them to choose between serving in Iraq or losing their jobs. Poor babies. Grow up.

Calling it “a potential death sentence,” several hundred diplomats expressed their resentment Wednesday over a new State Department policy that could force them to serve in Iraq or risk losing their jobs.

I guess all these idiots thought they were signing up for a paid vacation at Sandals or Club Med. The arrogance of the American bureaucrat class never ceases to amaze me. If you little shits want to make decisions about foreign policy then you should live the consequences of those decisions. I think it’s great that you’re being forced to get up close and personal. Maybe we’ll be less likely to fight wars when our State Department is filled with people who have lived war. Walk away from your career if you don’t like the policy. I could care less. Just quit whining.

I flew from Atlanta to Dallas Monday. The trip is normally fairly boring. This particular trip held no major surprises. As always, though, I people watch when traveling. I had ample opportunity at the Atlanta airport because the “security” line was more than an hour long. In fact, it was so long that the geniuses running the fool’s game we pretend has something to do with security routed us around every luggage conveyor belt in the place. The experience of walking in a giant conga line consisting of a few thousand people winding in and out between the baggage retrieval belts was sort of surreal.

There’s a lady struggling with her three carry-ons. And that lady over there just watched her kid almost get crushed by a bumbling fat man so distracted by his cell phone you could place a giant fan blade in front of him and he would walk right into it. Mixed in between the stand out idiots like fat man on cell phone and the luggage idiot are the other polyglot varieties of people you see in an airport. There are smartly dressed business people with looks of stolid resignation on their faces. Men and women alike with their leather briefcases containing who knows what corporate secrets shuffle slowly toward their aluminum transportation cans. They are used to this lunacy we call the modern American airport. They have submitted to the idiocy although some of them may be growing the seeds of revolution in their hearts. None of them likes being herded like a cow, but most of them aren’t going to moo loudly about it. The travelers are easy to spot because they are dressed so slavishly. Teenage girls in clothing so tight it might as well be glued on compete for the furtively admiring glances from unhappy middle aged suits who like a little eye candy. Couples fight quietly on the transport tram between terminals, their tans already fading as they are whisked back towards their boring little lives full of rampant consumerism, crushing debt and ho hum sex with each other. Ancient octogenarians recline with heads lolling in courtesy wheelchairs as they are rolled through the hallways on their way to somewhere they hope to die surrounded by people who care more than these airport denizens. Few make eye contact even when they brush one another in the overcrowded walkways or lock suitcases or collide trying to navigate in and out of the too narrow restroom entrances. The modern America airport is not a friendly place.

Through this mix of misguided human mutts wanders the homeless man. Only he knows his destination. His luggage consists of the leaves and dirt matted into his dreadlocks. His ancient trench coat is stained with good honest red Georgia clay. He has no cell phone like so many of his rude airport neighbors but he is muttering quietly under his breath just like they are. He wanders nimbly through the endless line of harried, harassed and oh so jaded commuters. The only flying he will do today will happen when he gets high. I see him once, then twice, then a third time. He and I are both moving towards the area where taking off our shoes will be mandatory. He is zig zagging and I am shuffling. Suddenly, his path is blocked by a woman on a cell phone. He motions that he wants to pass through the line. Everyone else has taken pains to let him by - they back up and give him his space. But not this woman. She is on a cell phone and she isn’t moving. In fact, cell phone business lady has decided that homeless man doesn’t even exist. He wants to get through. She wants him not to be a part of her reality. He waves a grizzled hand in front of her face; he is pointing in the direction he wants to go. Cell phone lady hunches over and cradles her cell phone protectively with one hand while grabbing her carry-on more tightly with the other. She is not letting him through. Homeless man gesticulates again! He raises the volume on his muttering activity. Things look like they might get ugly. Without warning, the stalemate is broken as the line shuffles forward and cell phone lady moves toward her date with an overweight idiot in polyester pants, a clip on tie and a nickel-metal badge. Homeless man zips through and continues his mad wandering. I will never see him again. I shuffle towards my own meeting with the people who keep me safe from myself.

As I do I think about who is more free. Is it homeless man or cell phone lady? And how free am I? I’m not feeling it.

I have made it clear in the past that I think Hillary Clinton is a sociopath. She’s the type of lady who would happily slit your throat with nary a bad dream. Ask Peter Paul, who served jail time on behalf of the woman some people call Hitlary. Peter Paul is fighting back against her bid for presidency.

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Here is the Wired article Hillary Clinton Faces a Viral-Video ‘Truth-Boating’ where I found the Peter Paul outing video. Just remember, Hillary Clinton does not care at about anything other than her own power. The woman is soulless.

Friday evening I flew home from Denver. Home for me is the Atlanta airport followed by a 70-mile commute up I-75 and into the Appalachian foothills.

I sat next to a crazy lady on the plane. OK, not really crazy but really, really nervous. She had her shirt pulled up over her face half the flight. Every time the pilot banked the plane or there was any noise at all, she freaked out. She was a nice lady other than the crazy. I tried talking to her to make her less nervous. She was mad at her husband who was sitting across the aisle. I think she was mad because he fell asleep while she spent the flight freaking out. She bought me a beer and drank one of her own. We talked about her son and her life in rural Pennsylvania in between her panic attacks.

The crazy lady told her husband she was going to kick his ass when we were getting off the plane. I think it was because he thanked me for “helping” her during the flight. I’m not sure I helped. Some people freak out when they aren’t the one behind the controls. I know because I’ve lived through that stage in my life.

I got home at 2 AM, hugged my wife and before I knew it the alarm was bothering me. 5 AM hurts when you don’t hit the rack until three hours earlier. Especially after you’ve left your 20’s behind forever.

The rest of my weekend consisted of military drill. We lost our commander, Major Chris Dockery. He was replaced by a captain, who seems like a good officer and a nice guy all around. I complained a lot about Major Dockery in my blog while we were in Iraq together. Never by name. He has a different kind of management style than what I’m looking for in a boss. Nevertheless, I’m going to miss him. He was an honest and sincere man and he cared about his troops in his own rather bureaucratic and stubborn way. I’ve served under worse men. Major Dockery, if you happen to read this blog entry, I can’t say it was always a pleasure, but I respect you sir. Safe journeys.

That’s just a small reminder to all of you who are planning to vote for Hillary Clinton.

We are going to take things away from you on behalf of the common good.
– Hillary Rodham Clinton

In the mean time, Ron Paul has raised more than $5 million so far, and he isn’t in bed with any big powerful lobbies that I am aware of. Isn’t that interesting? I’m not predicting a revolution, but at least one guy is resonating enough to stand out from among all the rotting souls in Washington, D.C.

I’m in Denver this week learning more IT guru secrets. It’s pretty cold here. It’s colder in Hillary Clinton’s heart. Don’t push this country any further away from the ideas and dreams that made it what it is by voting for that sociopath. And don’t vote for mediocrity by choosing another small government talkin’ big taxpayer money spending Republican. Remember that anyone who promises government will solve all your problems is a liar.