Stories from July…

Well, since you’re reading this, you should know that we’ve made it all the way to July 2007 in the latest round of updating posts from the archive. Based on what I’ve read this morning, it must have been one annoying month. Between going down with some kind of sickness, being accosted by traveling Baptists, and reaffirming my deep suspicion of those who drive minivans, it at least makes for some interesting reading. Since one of the posts was short (no, really – like two sentences short), I threw in a 6th post to this week’s update at no extra cost. You can thank me later.

I hope you’ll enjoy this little visit to 2007 as much as I’ve enjoyed making it available. Oh, and if you think our Defense Department are the kings of wasteful spending, take a look at Flock of Seagulls…, I’m pretty sure the World War I British War Office has us beat hands down.

Flock of Seagulls…

I was feeling fine when I went to bed last night, but woke up around 3:30 with a cough and sinus stuff going on. All very unpleasant. Even more unpleasant, of course, is that once I’m awake, the chances of actually going back to sleep hover between slim and none. So, reaching for the book I have been working on, I decided to prop myself up with a cup of coffee and read a bit. I don’t get the uninterrupted time to read that I use to, so I am still plowing through Castles of Steel, a really well-written analysis of British versus German fleet action during World War I.

Apparently, during the Great War, the Brits were working on a program that was supposed to train seagulls to poo on U-boat periscopes, preventing them from making torpedo attacks on commercial vessels making the run between England and the Americas. I’ve been working in government for a while now and we hear a lot of dumb ideas, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how someone could walk into a room of senior admirals of what was then the world’s most well-respected navy and recommend that enemy submarines could be defeated by having a flock of seagulls drop a duce right on their eyepiece. I haven’t decided if that was wishful thinking or just plain disturbing.

Oh, and for the record, I think I’ll be staying home today. I’m a half-dozen pages into Jutland and want to see how it turns out… well, that and every time I move my head I can actually feel my brain banging around. Sinus pressure blows.