Political Thoughts, Random Thoughts

Redskins Forever

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Things you can count on: Death, Taxes and someone complaining about the name of the beloved Redskins.  I don’t blame President Obama for raising the issue.  If I were the President and fumbling through my fifth year like a rookie, I, too, would be trying to divert attention to mundane matters like the name of the Washington Redskins.

Obama said, if he were the owner of the Redskins, he would think about changing the name.  If he were the owner, and ran the Washington Redskins the way he is running the country, he wouldn’t have to change the name.  The famous franchise would collapse faster than Solyndra and there would be no Washington Redskins.

Bob Costas used his two minutes of half-time, prime-time to say that the name Redskins was an insult and a slur.  Of course the Redskins have been around since 1933 and all the fans, including many Native Americans, have been honoring the team.  I’m sure Bob Costas has been referring to the Washington team as the Redskins on radio and TV for at least 30 years.  I guess it was alright for him to use that “insult” or “slur” for all that time and now, to become righteous. Hallelujah.  The scales have fallen from my eyes.

I will say that the term redskin can be used in a derogatory manner. So can Yankee.  Believe me, there are thousands and thousands of people in this country that use the name Yankee as an insult.  I’ve been called a Yankee when it was definitely intended as an insult, a slur.  What’s the rule?  If one person is offended?  Whoops, there goes the New York Yankees.  I never liked them anyway.

Owner George Marshall changed the name of his team in 1933 from the Boston Braves to the Boston Redskins (Shortly thereafter, the Washington Redskins).  This was done to honor and bring attention to their coach, Lone Star Dietz, who believed he was a Sioux.  He went to an Indian school in Oklahoma and then to the Carlisle Indian School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.  He played football at Carlisle with Jim Thorpe.  If you don’t know who Jim Thorpe was, please go back to reading some tweets.  Later, questions were raised as to whether Lone Star actually was an Indian, but so what? Maybe he spoke with a forked tongue, but it is irrelevant to our discussion.

One TV show asked people to comment on whether they were offended by the name Washington Redskins.  One viewer wrote in and said the part of the name that offended him was Washington. When the Irish immigrated to this country, they were a minority that was known for heavy drinking and fighting.  So some people might think that calling a team the “Fighting Irish” is an insult or a slur. What do you think, Bob?  At one time, it probably was.

I’m sensitive to not insulting people.  If a group wants to be called something, I say OK.  I’ll call them that.  And, if a few years later, they decide for the third or fourth time, they want to be called something else, I’ll go along.  But for 81 years, we have been honoring the Redskins and for some politically correct numbskull to claim we are insulting somebody is outrageous. 

I’m not a big Dan Snyder fan and I blame him for much that has gone wrong during his ownership (I have written on this before), but I’m with him on not changing the name.  I hope he sticks it out. He is taking a lot of heat and for that one thing, I commend him.  I wish the PC crowd would move on to deciding what Chrysler should do about the Jeep Cherokee.  

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Political Thoughts

Why is Congress Still Getting Paid?

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I, for one, completely understand what Congress is doing.  You see, when I was 11, I had my own bat and ball.  I was the only kid in the neighborhood with a bat and ball.  And when the game wasn’t going my way, I would take my bat and ball and go home.  That would end the game and really teach those other kids.  The only difference between me and Congress is that I grew up!  What in the world is going on?
 
I have always considered myself a Republican.  I think the reason is that I believe in strong national security.  And through the years, I have seen the military being cut to the bone by the Democrats and grown and nourished by Republican administrations.  That’s a message that doesn’t go unnoticed.  The other issue I’m big on is fiscal responsibility and the Republicans get better marks there.
 
I’m not a fanatic on right to life or a woman’s right to choose.  I understand both sides and wish them well.  I strongly support the Second Amendment, but have no problem with large, dangerous cities using their police powers to try to control hand guns.  And, I can’t think of one legitimate reason why a private citizen needs to have an automatic weapon.
 
Now that I am no longer 11, I don’t understand what Congress is doing.  During my military career, I had the good fortune to attend the Army War College.  One of their main messages was, “what got you here is not going to work for you in the future.”  As a junior officer, everything was black or white.  No shades.  Orders were followed and never questioned.  Now, as a senior officer you had to deal with people who could say, “No.”  What you did as a junior officer would no longer work.  You couldn’t tell Congress you wanted so many tanks and so many artillery pieces.  You had to be willing to negotiate and compromise.  I remember what went into The Civil Rights Act of 1968.  Both sides of the isle fighting for what they believed in and then compromising for the good of the country.
 
That’s probably why I am so unhappy with Obamacare.  It wasn’t both sides negotiating for the good of the country.  It was one side ignoring the other side and forcing the law down its throat.  And it was passed in the dark of the night without hardly anyone knowing what was in it.  BUT, it passed Congress and was signed by the President and the Supreme Court decided it was constitutional.  It may not work, but it is at this particular moment, the law of the land.  If it fails or turns out to be a disaster, I’m sure we can fix it or get rid of it.  But for the House Republicans to take their bat and ball and go home is really stupid. The country deserves a budget and the Republicans are going to take the major blame for this idiotic trick.
 
I have something I call GM Speak.  That is when senior officials from General Motors only discuss issues with other GM officials. Everybody will agree, but it may not even be close to correct.  There is also Army Speak.  Same thing.  Now, we have “Tea Party Speak.”  As long as they just talk to each other, they will all agree.  And it won’t be until the Democrats control everything that they will wake up.  I heard ex-governor Palin talking about a third party.  That’s a great idea.  Let’s split the Republican Party because some of those rascal Republicans are too close to the “center.”  
 
The American people deserve to have their government funded.  If something, like Obamacare, doesn’t work, it will be changed or thrown out.  The Republicans in the House are so far out on a limb that I don’t know how they can recover.  They may be secretly hoping for a hurricane.  I don’t even think that will work!
 
Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Random Thoughts

Live in DC and Meet the President

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I was asked the other day why we are still living in the DC area.  We are at an age where most thoughtful people have moved to more comfortable and warmer environs.  Almost anywhere we moved would be less expensive.  But, hey, it’s only money.  We have never really sat down and put together a plus and minus list.  I suspect I know why.  Let’s just say we are comfortable with out situation (except for all the steps in the house).

Then, again, how many of you have recently said hello to the President? So what if it was in the bathroom at the Fort Belvoir Golf Club.  I’m not sure whether I would put that on the plus or minus list.  It seems like he comes out to Fort Belvoir to play our golf courses every weekend, but it is probably just two to three times a month.  The reason that meeting the President under these circumstances would go in the minus column has to do with the disruption he causes when he comes to play golf.

Of course, they never tell us he is coming, but I’m a quick study.  When I pull into the parking lot and find that half of the lot is blocked off with distinctive green cones, I know we are in for a bad day.

I generally don’t play golf on Saturday.  But, I do like to hit the driving range sometime over the weekend.  Don’t want to lose the edge.  Well, on three occasions I have not gotten away before his arrival.  When he arrives, all cars are stopped.  We are required to step out of our cars and stand next to them.  Then we have to wait until he has warmed up and played the first two holes before they release us.  I have waited 45 minutes in the parking lot before being released.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished up hitting balls and needed to pick Carole up at the Commissary.  I headed back to my car.  There were at least 50 secret service, MPs, state and county police and rent-a-cops around the area.  I asked one of them if I could get out of the parking lot before he arrived.  He told me, “You better hurry.”  Hurry I did.  I threw my clubs in the trunk and drove out of the lot in my golf shoes and golf glasses.  I made it!

So this week, it is Saturday and we are doing our little run.  I drop Carole off at the Commissary and slip over to the golf course to hit balls for 90 minutes (the edge).  Carole says, “Well at least with the Syrian situation, you won’t have to worry about Obama showing up.”  Wrong!  Now I know why he passed the buck to Congress.  So he could play golf on Saturday. When he announced on Saturday morning that he was going to request Congressional approval, was I the only one who noticed that he was wearing golf shoes?

When I got to the course, there were the infamous green cones.  Three security personnel were standing by the main entrance.  So as I walked by, I asked them if he was here yet. One fellow smiled at me and said, “Sir, I have no idea who you are talking about, but no one is here.”  I smiled at him and said, “I don’t understand you, but thanks.”

I understand the security requirement.  I’m not an Obama fan, but I certainly don’t want anything bad to happen to him.  I’m good with the searches. They have portable wands for searching and I have even been sniffed by one of their big dogs.  They asked me to stand still.  I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to.  Nice Fido

Saying hello to the President under the above circumstances definitely goes in the minus column.  But the Commissary and the golf courses and the great medical care go in the plus column.  There needs to be a third column that is neither plus nor minus for such things as being able to go to a Wizards’ basketball game.  In this electronic age, I can go bloggity-blog from anywhere.  So why not West Springfield, Virginia?

We just lost one of our pluses.  Our favorite Chinese buffet closed.  The sign on the front door said, “Closed until further notice.”  We made three trips back to check and finally the sign was gone.  Carole inquired at the store next door and was advised that the closing involved the police and a rather nasty family dispute.  Chinese buffets generally don’t survive nasty family disputes.  Maybe the closing was a good thing.  I am sure there are things you can get from a four-day-old General Tso’s chicken that aren’t yet listed in medical books.

I’ll bet some of you don’t even know what a Case-Lot Sale is.  That’s when a whole lot of big trucks show up in a commissary parking lot and sell large volume items at ridiculously low prices.  That’s a plus.  Carole has never missed a Case-Lot Sale.  Our basement looks like a well supplied bomb shelter for thirty people.  However, because of the Sequestration, there were no Case-Lot Sales this year.  So Mr. Obama was correct when he said that the Sequestration would make everyone suffer.  Carole is really bitter.

I don’t think we are here because of inaction.  Our children are spread out, so there is no place to move which would be closer to them.  We like our house, but it is getting too big for us.  But, if we don’t find another Chinese buffet pretty quickly, we may be out of here!

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Political Thoughts, Short Shorts

US and the Middle East

When I was in the sixth or seventh grade, I was asked to write a paper on the political parties in the United States.  No, that’s not right.  I was probably asked to write a paper about our country and I chose the topic. This may have been an early sign that some day I would major in political science.  This would have been around 1949.  I explained in cryptic details how when the Republican Party was in power, we had depressions; and when the Democratic Party was in power, we had wars.  My conclusion was that in order to decide whether you wanted to be a Republican or a Democrat, you had to decide whether you would prefer a depression or a war.  It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the Communist Party or my teacher might have turned me over to Senator McCarthy.

I thought you needed to know the above before you started reading my thought on the Middle East.  It shouldn’t surprise you that I am confused about the Middle East.  One thing for sure, I quit worrying a long time ago about whether people liked us.  Yep, I’m the ugly American.

One thing I do worry about is our national security and what is in the interest of our nation.  I think our leaders, in developing our foreign policy, should concentrate on what is in the best interest of the United States. Other countries understand that because that is exactly what they are doing.  Charles De Gaulle’s decision for France to have a French nuclear defense against Russia was based upon what he believed was in the best interest of France.  He didn’t care that the United States was unhappy with the decision.

It doesn’t seem to matter who is in power in many Middle Eastern countries when it comes to suppressing the views and right of their opposition.  Some regimes may be harsher that others, but they all treat their opposition harshly and it doesn’t pay to be too vocal.  This doesn’t seem to me to be a critical factor in deciding our country’s national interest.  Gassing the opposition changes the playing field.  But, otherwise, I ask, is it in our national interest to see governments favorable to us overthrown and the installation of a fundamental Islamic government? Then when such a ruling party as the Muslim Brotherhood is overthrown, should we wring our hands?

When is a coup not a coup?  I would say when it is in the national interest of the United States.  OK, I’m not only the ugly American, I’m a hypocrite. But with all my faults, I would not lose sight of our national security.

I also have some thought on free elections in tribal countries like Afghanistan.  But I think I will stop and cut my losses.  Life was a lot simpler when all I had to do was choose between war and depression.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com 
Golf Daze, Short Shorts

Tiger, Tiger, Pants on Fire

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So what if Tiger Woods didn’t win a Major this year.  Hey, it hasn’t been that long since he announced to the world that he had an addiction.  I suspect he is still fighting his addiction. That is much more important than winning a Major.  He has been through treatment and therapy.  He announced his addiction in 2010 and this is only three years later.
I don’t know much about sexual addiction, but I guess Tiger was crazy about that stuff.  I know in the case of alcohol or drug addiction, the person forswears the evil product and refers to themselves as a recovering alcoholic or recovering drug addict.  Again, I don’t know what a sex addict does.  Is Tiger a recovering sex addict?
I tried to find a 12-step program for sex addicts, but I had no luck.  If they do have a 12-step program, I wondering which step is Lindsey Vonn?  She must be somewhat close to the end. Maybe Tiger has already been cured.  I can’t imagine his therapist is very happy about Lindsey. I’m afraid Tiger may be headed for recidivism.  And some people are worried about him not winning a Major.
Now,  I’m not big on conspiracy theories, especially when it comes to golf.  However, I have played round robin matches (you play six holes with each of the other three players in your foresome) where I concluded that the other three were conspiring to take my money.  It’s either that or I’m a bad golfer.  So I’ll go with the conspiracy theory.  Now, if I were one of Tiger’s devious opponents, I could position very attractive young ladies at strategic places in the gallery at Major events.  It’s possible that when Tiger sees the sweet young thing he may grab the wrong club!  I know you can’t make noise when a player is getting ready to hit the ball, but what if she is breathing heavily? 
I don’ think it would be appropriate for Tiger’s caddy to go over and ask the sweet young thing to stop breathing.  However, Casey Martin, who had a disabling injury, was permitted to use a golf cart.  The Supreme Court decided under the Americans with Disabilities Act that Casey could ride.  I’m wondering whether Tiger could qualify under the Americans with Disabilities Act to keep attractive women out of the gallery?
After all of the above, I’m about to say something profound.  Karma’s a bitch.
Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Golf Daze

The Golf Bible for the 20 Handicapper

You know what brings the duffer back?  It’s on the last hole of another disastrous round when the club goes back and then comes through perfectly and the ball jumps in the air and rises like a rocket.  It heads straight down the fairway or heads straight for the green.  Everyone is spell bound and the player says, “See, I knew I would figure it out,” or “Why can’t I do that more often?”


If the player is a 20 handicapper, he or she will never figure it out, and to play better he doesn’t have to do it more often.  I used to be a 20 handicapper plus and I still try to hit the perfect shot every time.  But, I now realize it isn’t necessary to hit great shots to be a better golfer.  So I have come up with my golfer’s bible for those of you who want to score better, but probably aren’t ever going to master the golf swing.

I subscribe to Golf Digest and Golf Magazine and each month they promise to add 10, 15, or 30 yards to my drives and to reduce my handicap by 3, 5, or even 7 strokes.  The August Golf Magazine has Hunter Mahan on the cover and it says, “Hit Every Fairway [and add 15 yards].”  I like Hunter Mahan and enjoy watching him play.  I also recognize that those pros are not playing the same game we are.  They hit shots that we wouldn’t dare try.  He gets paid for wearing a Ping Hat and an Under Armor shirt.  David Leadbetter pays me not to wear anything with his name on it.

Anyway, the Mahan article says on the backswing, your right thigh should feel “tight at the top.”  My whole body feels “tight at the top,” and then sort of unravels on the way down.  I don’t think golf magazines are the answer.  

So, let’s start with my bible revelation.  A 20 handicapper is only going to hit three to five really great shots a round (on a good day).  That means that not counting putts, he or she is going to hit over 50 shots that are not great.  So, are you ready for this, it is the quality of your not-so-great shots that will improve your score.

Let me use a 390 yard, par 4 hole as an example.  Most of us 20 handicappers can’t reach the green in two.  Let’s assume that we hit the ball 180 yards off the tee.  I don’t have anything in my bag that will go 210 yards.  So I am going to be on the green in three, if everything goes well. An absolutely perfect shot will make me feel great, but I will still have 30 yards left to the green.  A mediocre shot that only goes 140 yards leaves me with 70 yards to the green.  Both shots leave me in a good position. But, if you pop the ball in the air or top it and it rolls 20 yards, you are in trouble. This is what I mean by the quality of your not-so-great shots.  It is important that your mediocre shot get you within 100 yards of the green.

I periodically play with a fellow, who, when he hits a mediocre shot, looks at it and then says, “That’s OK.”  What he is really saying is, “I can get on from there,” or “I will still be on in the same number of shots.”  So rule one is to make sure your mediocre shots move you down the fairway 130 or more yards, and don’t fret that the shot wasn’t great.

Next, if your tee shot goes into the woods, give careful thought as to how to get back in the fairway.  Look for the best and widest opening.  Don’t try some miracle shot to put the ball down the fairway.  Hitting sideways or even backwards will cost you one stroke.  Playing pinball with the trees will rack up a monster number.

Another score killer  is being 10 yards off the green and taking two shots to get on.  This is many times caused by trying to put the ball close to the flag stick.  Putting it close to the flag stick is good, but not if it requires a risky shot.  Feel comfortable with the club you choose and knock the ball on the short grass.  

It is bad enough that someone thought up the idea of bunkers, but to make matters worse, the ground around the bunker usually slopes towards the bunker.  It may sound silly for me to say you need to get out of the bunker with one stroke, but I said it.  It’s nice to blast out close to the hole, but if it requires trying something different, don’t do it.  Keep your weight on your front foot and take a good swing.  It is important that you follow through. If you leave your club in the sand, the ball will be there too.  I once blasted from the bunker on one side of the green into the bunker on the other side. And, then I blasted the ball back into the bunker where I started. This is when it is important not to have sharp objects in your bag.

The last topic I will mention is the mental/emotional part of the game.  If you let your emotions get the best of you, you are done.  Right Rory?  I’ll define a bad three putt as inside 10 feet.  Anybody who has a bad three putt will play hell hitting a decent shot off of the next tee box.  When things really go badly for me, I try to smile.  A smile or a humorous comment breaks the tension and stress and will put you back on track.

I’m a little embarrassed about calling this a golf bible, but if I called it a golf diatribe, I’m not sure anyone would read it.  Play well.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com


Random Thoughts, Short Shorts

It’s OK to Put Your Elbow in Your Ear

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After all these years, I now find out that “ear wax is beneficial and self cleaning.”  That is why you shouldn’t put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear.  Of course, they also said that the tooth fairy recovers teeth that are left under pillows.  I’m not sure what to believe!

All these years I have been avoiding the benefits of earwax.  I don’t want it back.  Of course, most of it was absorbed into those terrible Q-tips.  Q-tips is the cotton swab of choice.  Some of the lesser brands really do a number on your ear.  Q-tips had done everything possible to make it feel comfortable in your ear.  There is “more soft cotton on the tip,” and it has a bendable shaft.  It is a life insurance policy, too.  No, no.  That’s another stupid commercial.

I get a kick out of the Q-tips box.  It has a warning.  It says, “Do not insert swab into ear canal.”  If people stop inserting Q-tips into ear canals, sell your Unilever stock. Then the warning goes on to say, “If used to clean ears, stroke swab gently around the outer surface of the ear only.”  Why would anyone want to stroke around the outer surface of the ear?  That isn’t where the tickle is coming from.  I guess that annoying tickling feeling is also beneficial.

If you haven’t figured it out, I will tell you that I clean out my ears with Q-tips.  Now, as an experienced user, I will give you some important tips.  Never clean out your ears while jogging.  It can be done, but it is too tricky for a beginner.  Next, while sitting perfectly still, grab the swab at a very short distance from the cotton end.  That way, even if you jam it in it won’t hit bottom.  Next, keep the swab pressed against the side of the ear canal.  If you feel a sharp pain, you are in too deeply.  If your Q-tip has blood on it, you belong to that 10% who can’t pitch or catch a softball and you should seek medical help.

When I was 13, I went to Champaign Urbana, Illinois to play in a state baseball tournament.  I think it was a three-day tournament.  I woke up the second day with a terrible ear ache (this was before I knew what a Q-tip was).  Everything sounded like I was in a twenty-foot well.  Each coach had a different remedy.  One held me upside down.  Another put my bad ear towards the ground and pounded on the other side of my head.  It didn’t help my ear, but I felt better when he stopped pounding.  The third coach lit up a cigar and blew smoke in my ear.  Nothing helped.  They finally quit trying when they found out I could still play, even though I was hurting.

I should mention that the article that says ear wax is good for you goes on to state that after you are 65 years old, the wax gets thicker and contains more ear hair.  I didn’t even know I had ear hair and now I find out it is falling out.  The article concludes that 12 million people a year go to the doctor for impacted ear wax.  They want you to believe that that is caused by people pushing the ear wax deeper into their ear with cotton swabs.  Don’t believe them.  It is those people who aren’t cleaning out their ears with a Q-tip.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
My Military Daze, Random Thoughts

Bill Suter, Clerk of the Supreme Court

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On the 12th of June, Bill Suter had his retirement party.  It was held at the Supreme Court of the United States.  Bill will retire as the 19th Clerk of the Supreme Court sometime this fall, but if they waited until then to have the party, the Court would have trouble finding a quorum.  As you probably know, the Court finishes up its opinions in June and then goes on an extensive recess.  So June was the best time for the party.

Bill and I go way back.  We reported for duty on Tuesday, September 3, 1962 at Fort Knox, Kentucky.  We had both received direct appointments as first lieutenants in the JAG Corps and our first assignment was the Armor Officers’ Basic Course.  This raised the question as to whether we would be able to handle our court room duties if we could not fire the main gun of a M-48 tank.

Over 50 years later, I was sitting in the Great Hall listening to Chief Justice Roberts praise the incredible job that Bill had done as the Clerk for the last 23 years. The ceremony started with the Marshal of the Court, Pam Talkin, coming to the lectern and announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.”  The Chief Justice then said, “Thank you for that warm and generous introduction.”  The laughter that followed set the tenor for the ceremony and the following party (a party that didn’t cost the taxpayers a penny).

At Fort Knox, while on a three-day field operation, which was to conclude the armor portion of our training, we sat in the dark on a bleacher and listened on a transistor radio to President Kennedy announce the “quarantine” of Cuba.  The Soviets had been slipping nuclear missiles into Cuba and Kennedy had decided we would go to war before we would permit nuclear weapons that close to the United States.  We had little communication with the rest of the world for the next two days.  Rumors of sunken ships and war were rampant.  I even heard that our class was on its way to Florida to be ready for the attack.  Today, on reflection, I know how absurd that would have been, but back then, it had us all shook up.

As soon as we came in from the field, we started cavalry instruction.  Bill and I were sitting in a small amphitheater and we all remember what happened like it was yesterday.  Bill Suter, Larry Henneberger, Don Wolf, friends for life, remember that moment.  Our country was holding its breath to see if we would be at war with the Soviets.  A cavalry instructor was babbling about how one out of three in the class would be assigned to a cavalry unit.  Those of us who were JAGs were ignoring him. Then the door to the classroom swung open and a secretary came rushing in carrying a piece of paper.  The instructor took the paper and spent 30 seconds reading it.  Had a pin dropped, it might have shattered somebody’s ear drum.  The major looked up and said, “Listen up, this order seems to impact all of you.  Effective immediately, the members of this armored officers’ basic class are assigned to Troop B, 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry.”  Still extreme silence, confusion and disbelief.  Then the major said, “See gentlemen, it would be just that easy for you to be assigned to a cav unit.”  IT WAS A JOKE.  It was the way he started off every one of his cavalry orientation classes.  But his timing with our class left us weak.

I couldn’t get over the dignitaries that had assembled for Bill’s ceremony.  What a distinguished group.  And I was amazed at how many of them I knew.  I felt honored to be there.  Sitting two seats away from me was Susan Crawford.  She had held any number of distinguished positions with our government, but when I was working in the Office of the Judge Advocate General in the Pentagon, she was the Army General Counsel.  I also had some contact with her when I was the Commandant of the JAG School.  When I was trying to get a political appointment with the first Bush administration, I needed someone with political connections to recommend me and Susan was the only one I knew.  I called Susan and she made things happen.  At Bill’s ceremony, I thanked her again for the major impact she had on my life.  She responded by saying she was just happy someone took her call.

Chief Justice Roberts mentioned that through the years, Bill had probably done more towards making counsel feel comfortable before they argued than anyone else.  Bill had written a “Guide for Counsel in Cases to be Argued before the Supreme Court of the United States.”  It answered all those questions a first time counsel so desperately needed.

After Bills comments and just prior to the conclusion of the ceremony, Jeanie, Bill”s wife and Ashley, his grand daughter, unveiled his portrait.  Yep, they still do things like that.  Even in the days of Twitter and Face Time.  And, it was magnificent.  Bill’s portrait will hang in the Supreme Court from this time forward.  Richly deserved.

In November, 1962, Bill and Jeanie and Carole and me arrived at the JAG School in Charlottesville, Virginia.  Bill and I were members of the 37th Special Class.  Brand new JAGs.  Because of the length of the class, we would be in C’Ville over the Christmas holiday.  The School did not want their basic class students hanging around over Christmas.  They wanted the students to take leave and disappear.  We were told if we stayed, we would be put to work.  Most of the class disappeared.  Bill and I stayed over the holiday and “went to work.”

We were assigned the project of preparing a paper setting forth the reasons why the Advance Class (later called the Graduate Class) upon their graduation should receive a master of laws degree, rather than just a diploma.  We put a lot of energy into the project and came up with a half a dozen good reasons the degree should be awarded.  Of course it was a make work project and nothing came of it.  Nothing came of it until 26 years later when Bill was the Assistant Judge Advocate General and tasked me as the Commandant of the School to make it happen.  In 1988, Congress passed the law granting our graduate students a Master of Laws Degree in Military Law.

I would like to tell you that I dug out the paper that Bill and I prepared in 1962 and used it as our rationale, b
ut I think it was used to start kindling in the officers’ club fire place.  But the ideas were still keen in our minds.  So to all the JAG Graduate Class students since 1988 who are proud recipients of master of laws degrees, Bill and I say, “You’re welcome.”

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
My Military Daze, Random Thoughts

Save Our Commissaries!


On Sunday, the Washington Post devoted it’s front page to out-of-control military spending.  Well, it is the government.  Then, this expose took a sharp right turn and devoted most of the article to the need to eliminate our commissaries.

It appears that three summers ago, a Richard Spencer, a retired investment banker and member of the Pentagon advisory board, proposed shutting down all the commissaries in the United States.  Spencer was surprised by the furor he created.  I’m thinking, if that surprised him, he couldn’t be too smart.

Spencer was in the Marine Corps from 78′ to 81′ and remembers the commissary at Camp Lejeune.  He insisted that they only sold basic staples, “much of it leftovers from the mess hall.”  Golly, I knew those Marines were tough, but I didn’t know that their wives were purchasing mess hall leftovers at their commissary.  And this is the kind of background information our leadership is using to make financial decisions. 

As most of us military types know, the commissary is a real benefit to the military family.  Almost everything is sold to us at cost and we save 20 to 30%.  When I came in the military, I made $281 a month and it was nice to shop at the commissary.  We knew we wouldn’t get rich in the military, but it was nice to be working toward a retirement pension and medical care for life, and serving our nation.

The argument goes that in order to give us such great prices, DOD must budget over a billion dollars a year to keep the program running.  Some of that has to do with too many employees and mismanagement.  Unfortunately, if the government runs it, it will be mismanaged.  Look at Federal Express, UPS and the US Postal Service.  Guess which one can’t even break even, even.

In 28 years in the Army, I have seen the government contract out “to save money.”  Then they consolidate everything within the government “to save money.”   It never works.  They can’t get any responsible grocer to run the commissaries, but if they could, somehow it would cost more.

I came on active duty in 1962.  That reminds me.  When I was in the commissary last week, I saw some sacks of potato chips.  I don’t remember the brand name, but they stated they had been proudly making their chips since 1992!  I thought, I’ve got socks older than that.  In 1962, many women were prohibited from going into the commissary or the post exchange in slacks (or God forbid, shorts).  When we traveled to another post, Carole carried a skirt in the trunk of the car, just in case.  If slacks were forbidden, Carole would slip into a ladies room and put on a skirt.  I think commanders at those posts thought that women in slacks were part of the slippery slope; or, their wives were running the post.

Speaking of potato chips, neither the Fort Myer nor the Fort Belvoir commissary (not even a trip down to Quantico would help) carries Gibbles potato chips.  This is a real kick in the teeth to those of us who think the Gibbles is at the top of the food pyramid.  I don’t think their departure was an austerity move by the commissaries.  I think Lays just outmaneuvered them.

I don’t think the commissary article was serious.  It was just something to keep the IRS off the front page.  If you can believe the President, he found out about the IRS scandal at the same time as the rest of us.  I guess he is either lying or his staff is hiding the ball from him.  I can’t figure out why a dedicated staff would keep him in the dark.  I hope this last paragraph doesn’t get me audited.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Random Thoughts

Micky – All Dog

1 Comment


Pets are a lot like children, only you don’t have to give them an allowance.  It seems like we have always had a dog.  We had been married for about a year when we got our first one.  I was in law school at the University of Missouri and we were living in University housing (10-I University Terrace).  This was 1959 and University Terrace was brand spanking new.  No pets were allowed, but I’m a little fuzzy about what we knew and when we knew it.

We found out that someone out in the country had some terriers for sale.  So we drove out to look at them.  We found the farm and there really wasn’t much to see.  They only had one puppy left and he was black and tan and gray and white.  He was a small little dirty creature.  We were sure when we got him home and washed him, he would look better.  We were wrong.  After he was washed, he was the same little dirty looking puppy.

We named him Micky because his face looked like Micky Mouse.  When he was fully grown, he weighed 12 pounds and had stumpy little legs.  His head was too big for his body and his ears were too big for his head.  His tail had disappeared before we got him.  He looked like a little piglet walking down hill.

The little apartment had only one closet and, of course, no door on the closet.  One night, while in bed, we heard something rattling around in the closet.  We flipped on the light and there stood Micky with a slipper in his mouth.  We read him the riot act and he seemed to grasp that slippers were not a good idea.

With Carole working and me going to law school, Micky was either in the apartment all day or outside all day.  On those days he was outside, he ran the campus.  Leash laws were not yet in existence.  One day while I was walking past the book store, here comes Micky from the other direction and he has someone’s lunch sack in his mouth.  I acted like I didn’t know him (he acted like he didn’t know me).  Ships passing in the night.

Micky wasn’t the most famous dog at MIZZOU.  That honor belonged to Tripod, a three legged mutt, well known on campus.  Legion had it that the Veterinary School used to practice surgery on unsuspecting dogs.  After the dog recovered from the amputation, they would put him down.  But Tripod escaped.  The stories vary as to how he got loose.  Everyone loves a conspiracy theory.

Micky also had a skin problem on his back.  He lost some of the hair and the vet would give us a salve to make him feel better.  That must have been the purpose, because it sure didn’t heal him.  His back must have itched and one of the ways he got relief was from rolling around in dog dirt.  I would come home from school and there was the smelly little creature, happy to see me.  I would pick him up very carefully and dump him in the bath tub.  Washing a 12 pound short haired terrier was no big deal (once you got past the smell).

On days when he was left in the apartment, he would climb up on the back of the front room couch and look out through the drapes.  I believe that is how we got caught.   All of our neighbors knew Micky and were “cool” with his presence in the “hood.”  Well, we received a letter from the University telling us that Micky had to go or we had to go.  One of my classmates wives came through for us.  Penny and Dick Sonnich rented a house close to campus and they agreed to take care of Micky.  Penny was so sweet to take on the task.

The Sonnichs kept Micky tethered when he was outside.  But, Micky had a masters degree in escape and evasion.  There were still Micky sitings all over campus.  About  three months before I was to graduate, I received a phone call from our vet.  He said, “I guess you know your dog is dead.”  There has to be a better notification process.  I was overcome with grief.  It appears he got into a dog fight with three big dogs and before anyone could break it up, Micky was beyond recovery.  Carole was about six months pregnant and took it worse than I did.  Her doctor fixed her up and life moved on.

Micky was the only male dog we ever owned.  The memories are all good.  He was small, muscular and feisty, but a loving pet.  We had a movie camera back then, but the only movies we have of Micky is of him scooting into the University library.  Maybe it was lunchtime.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

BOO! I saw you smile!