All That Remains

All That Remains

Nothing is built but is broken in the end.

Nothing stands upon two legs that doesn't return to the ground.

Crawl, crawl, crawl, quiver and sprawl. 

Life after The Wall.

Life after the inevitable fall,

that nothing should 'ere be so tall.

Roads

Roads

Most roads come to an end.

If they don't, time disintegrates them

beneath you.

The only way to keep going

Is to lay new roads as you walk them..

The Turtle Killer

The Turtle Killer

A distant shore's green light ahead

He is filigree over lead

A library of books, never read

Pieces of a life, never led

Nothing but a pool turning slowly red.

Little but a lie, with a neat little hole in his head.

Old Money, New Money, no matter.

Myrtle's still just as dead.

Questions

What is faith
In the face of insanity?

What is faith, when questions
Have no answers?

It's all part of the Master Plan
So I've been told all my life.
But whose Mercy is it
That visits such suffering
On such a beautiful person?

Who is it that visits death
On one so young?

Who creates, only to destroy?

A flower, 
Wilting before blossoming?

Why such incredible pain?

How is it
That we have free will
When he that wrote the story knows the end?

Why, when you have the whole plot,
Do you allow injustice?

Why must you take her away,
When she has so much
To give here?

Can it really simply be better than an alternative?

But where is the free choice in that?

What is this Master Plan,
That leaves not enough food
To care for sickness, due to its cost?

Or crushing lightning in the brain
For over two years
With no reason or end?
No doctors actually serving human beings
As they were meant to?
Who value money over life..

What is this that leaves five years to live a whole life in?
Or less, with such torment at it's end?

In short
What is Faith
Where is Choice
Where is this Plan
Where are the Answers?

The Recent Thompkins Supreme Court Decision.

I first include relevant quotations taken from the initial Miranda v. Arizona case that first established the procedural safeguards of the Fifth Amendment, as well as short summaries of sections of the opinion with special note given to what I consider to be rather important phrases useful towards indicating the intent of the decision, which intent I agree with in principle.

“The defendant may waive effectuation of these rights provided the waiver is made voluntarily, knowingly and intelligently. If, however, he indicates in any manner at any stage of the process that he wishes to consult with an attorney before speaking there can be no questioning. Likewise, if the individual is alone and indicates in any manner that he does not wish to be interrogated, the police may not question him.  The mere fact that he may have answered some questions or volunteered some statements on his own does not deprive him of the right to refrain from answering further inquiries until he has consulted with an attorney and thereafter consents to be questioned. 

1

This first part of the opinion addresses police interrogation practices.  It makes relatively clear that due to the privacy of custodial interrogation, as well as the obvious advantage of training in subtle (or otherwise) psychological strategies, police (prior to this decision) have had a tremendous advantage over any individual suspect  in a criminal investigation.  They proceed with excerpts from police interrogation manuals as follows,

            “The principal psychological factor contributing to successful interrogation is privacy—being alone with the person under interrogation”

The Court’s opinion is made clear like so:

            “Even without employing brutality, the ‘third degree’ or the specific stratagems described above, the very fact of custodial interrogation exacts a heavy toll on individual liberty and trades on the weakness of individuals.”

2

Citing precedents to their decision, the Court goes on in the second section to say,

“The privilege (to remain silent) has come rightfully to be recognized in part as an individual’s substantive right, a “right to a private enclave where he may lead a private life."  That right is a hallmark of our republic (United States v. Grunewald). In sum, the privilege is fulfilled only when the person is guaranteed the right “to remain silent unless he chooses to speak in unfettered exercise of his own will” (Malloy v. Hogan).” (Miranda v. Arizona). 

“As a practical matter the compulsion to speak in the isolated setting of the police station may well be greater than in courts or other official investigations where there are often impartial observers to guard against intimidation or trickery” (Miranda v. Arizona).

Finally what follows is my summary of what I view as the primary point of Miranda, which, while it is only one of a series of decisions, is a venerable and respected decision which merits serious consideration as to its motives in any address of Fifth Amendment rights.

The Miranda case establishes several things:

            1. All people have a fundamental right as guaranteed in the Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution to refrain from incriminating themselves if they so desire.

            2. As indicated in various precedents the Court cites, as well as in the police manuals upon which the practice is based, custodial interrogation, even absent brutality, presents problems with the Fifth Amendment (“nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself…” because custodial interrogation by its nature and evident practice is coercive or compelling or has the potential to be coercive or compelling.

            3. The decision put in place multifold procedural safeguards, wherein the individual in custody must  firstbe warned of his rights and then given the opportunity to exercise these rights, and any indication that he maintains these rights must be honored unless the individual has (trifold) voluntarily, knowingly, and intelligently waived these rights, “Unless and until such warnings and waiver are demonstrated by the prosecution at trial, no evidence obtained as a result of interrogation can be used against him.

In this decision, the individual is the focus of protective measures.  His protection against self incrimination is his right.  Another focus is clearly on purposeful waivers made after meeting  at least three required circumstances of legitimacy.  A waiver must be made (1) knowingly, (2) voluntarily and (3) intelligently.  By implication it would seem to behoove the law enforcement as a simple matter of procedure to offer individuals a physical waiver which they can read, contemplate, and put a purposeful signature of ascent.  In the recent case, Thompkins in fact was offered such a waiver, and he knowingly, intelligently and voluntarily did not sign said waiver. Under the suggested guidelines of Miranda v. Arizona, which again have significant merit, this absolutely meets the requirement to have been an “indication in any manner” that he did not wish to be interrogated.  At the first sign of any manner of indication that the individual does not wish to be interrogated, there is not to be any further questions. The waiver would have been administrated early in the proceedings, and thus the questioning by rights should have ceased at that point, not three psychologically grueling hours later.  The decision of the current Court, that is, that those individuals must unambiguously invoke their own innate rights seems not just contrary to the principles of Miranda, but seems counter-intuitive. The Court would essentially wish to tell me that I must specifically request a “substantive right” in order to possess it.  Far from being protective of the individual rights guaranteed by the Fifth Amendment, this ruling puts in place procedural red tape between an individual and his rights.

Furthermore, to the common argument that many would make against “criminals rights” which itself is a pejorative term considering the individuals in questions are innocent until found guilty in a court of law, that by providing more work for the police to wade through in investigation we would be allowing murders and rapists etc. to just roam free is simply inaccurate.  The federal court system here is making a ruling as to whether the suspects fifth amendment (and sixth) were violated.  They are not making a case concerning the actual guilt or innocence of Thompkins because that is a matter for the local state courts to decide.  At worst, Thompkins would still face a retrial, and given a retrial, and given enough OTHER evidence, which the law enforcement no doubt possess (for example the fact that Thompkins stripped and abandoned the van in which the crime was alleged to have been perpetrated), there is every possibility that he would be convicted again.  His guilt or innocence is not the point.  What is the point is that in no way should he be coerced into incriminating himself.  To be blunt, Thompkins, overall, didn’t really say very much at all.  If the entirety of the case against him comes down only to his taciturn statements under interrogation, than there isn’t much of a case against him.  Surely the law officials that conducted the investigation have more evidence, which would still be admissible in court upon which they could convict him if indeed he were guilty. 

While there must be a balance between allowing police to do their jobs, and protecting individuals, I think it is wiser to err on the side of the individual. As the Miranda v. Arizona decision put it, “Those who framed our Constitution and the Bill of Rights were ever aware of subtle encroachments on individual liberty. They knew that ‘illegitimate and unconstitutional practices get their first footing…by silent approaches and slight deviations from legal modes of procedure’ (Boyd v. United States 116 U.S. 616, 635 (1886)”.  It is my opinion that requiring such unambiguous, or to be more layman, more official invocation of something considered to be an inherent right of man is just such a subtle encroachment.  

Funny

Ain't it funny how
Sounds
Otherwise unnoticed 
Dominate the audioscape when you're sitting
Silent,
Away from all the bars, the lights, the beer
The distraction and preoccupations 
Human makes for itself?


You've gotta make a hell of a racket to stop 'em looking at the telly
The ambulance, painfully loud from this distance, is just enough to cut through, over there.


We must be the loudest of all animals.


Ain't it funny how
The ones who know the least, make the most noise about it?
It's Tea time, America,
But only because they got
Defiance
From the history, without purpose.
Who needs to understand motivation,
When you could just be angry
And be the
Loudest.


Ain't it funny how
Easy it is to laugh at calamity
As it's bearing down on you?
What's "funny" about the Loud Ones today
is that they're neither humorous, nor strange
but rather, sad, or
Terrifying.


Ain't it funny how
Much like preoccupations of sound
We develop preoccupations of reality?
Just like people can't handle silence
and miss all that silence can tell them,
So too
People who live their lives vicariously
Through television, pass over so much more.


Yeah, ain't it funnier still
How people who don't live in the real world
Still have a real affect on it?
How their self-inflicted ignorance crawls into the public sphere.
How they elect people like themselves,
Who call the Republic a democracy
And treat it as such?


You see, what's not funny, not at all,
Is
How even the best creations of the best of humanity
can be twisted
violated
mutated
And become what they were meant to end.

I Ithryn Luin Ar I Antoeva Saurona: Chapter 2, Small Stones

Small Stones


"Their coming shall be as the small stones that start an avalanche"

White steps, reaching seemingly ever upwards. He looks around him, wondering where he it is that he stands. He is on those steps which are on a mountain, indescribably high above the surrounding lands. The clouds are miniature pearlescent patches below his feet. Far below, on the slopes of the Mountain there stand many fair towers, of beautiful spiraling construction. They are formed of many magnificently hued metals and stones in all the colours of the reefs of Osse's oceans. Between the towers, like threads of gossamer, are myriad graceful curving walkways: highways of air. All over the mountain are astoundingly vast trees, which are dwarfed only be the Towers themselves. They too are hives of activity; lived in, upon, and around. Many steps are carved in their sides, and great platforms were suspended in them and between them. Whole cities were hung between the vast groups of trees. It is a spectacle that defies thought. He turns from it to look at the heights of the Mountain. At the top are fourteen peaks arrayed in a circle, at the base of which he now knows to be a great seat, for he at last knows where he stands. From the great circle, bright light shone to the point where it was hard to directly observe it without pain. He is on the slopes of Taniquetil, the Mountain of the Valar. Valinor! How he missed it! Oh, how he longed to return! Yet he had..had he not? And yet he had no memory of a journey to this spot. He had not taken the gray ship to come here. There was no vessel for him. There had been no journey. Of that he is certain. Something tells him to continue up the mountainside.

The Council of the Valar is about to begin; he hears Manwe's timeless voice which embodies the depths of heaven bringing it into session. He walks up to the great circle, stopping between the seats of great Tulkas, the wrestler, and Nessa, and to his great wonderment he sees one who he least expects to see in Valinor, or anywhere else. Olorin, whose task it had been to contain and defeat the last of the Great Enemies. He who had feared; who was reluctant. Olorin had said he was too weak for the task, all those many years ago, when he was asked to go to Middle Earth. He feared Sauron, and yet survives to return to Valinor. He is before the Council!

With Olorin is a small dark-haired being who is looking about him in wonder at all he sees. His glance turns towards him, and lights upon him. It holds him because of the eyes. They are the color of Ulmo's waters. He turns to one who is near him to ask who and what this being is, only to find the Valinorean totally unaware of his existence. In fact, the elf is looking directly through him. He moves to the side and looks back towards the person, who is looking at him with a bemused expression. He is perplexed. How can it be that this being sees him, but a Valinorean High Elf does not? He does not long ponder this as Olorin has begun to speak.

"Ye Lords of the West, here is he who has triumphed, the Ringbearer who bore that dire token to its destruction. He along and the first Ringbearer have been brought to this land to heal the great hurts they have suffered in its destruction, the blade of sorcery, the Sting of Ungoliants spawn, and the great Burden upon the mind and spirit that the Ring was. I have returned here at last, for truly my time in Middle Earth had come to an end with the conclusion of the Labor. It is now my pleasant duty to say to you that Sauron, the cur of Morgoth is at last destroyed utterely and wiped from the face of Ea. His armies have been destroyed, his Tower, and all things of his efforts cast down into utter ruin. He has failed entirely. Here now the details of his fall shall be told in full before all."

The silent watcher listens with increasing amazement to the tale of the Lord of the Rings, recounted in full. Great deeds, and much change had come in the Northwest. There was a King in the land of Gondor and Arnor again: the line of Numenor resurrected from the shadows of history, unlooked for in the North Downs. The Evenstar had chosen mortality, as Tinuviel to whom she was compared had. The Valinorean Noldor that remained had at last departed, returning to the great Citadel Tirion on the hill of Tuna. This land of the shire is new to him since he had travelled through the West long ages agone. These were just some of the things related there. Most was the state of Olorin. Oh, how he had changed. That he who was afraid should be the chief mover of these great events was an amazing accomplishment. He had gained courage, strength, and knowledge along his road. He kept heart when all seemed lost, and drove others along . He was now the White Wizard, the head of the order.

One part of the account bites into him like a poisoned dart. The one who had been greatest among them, and who had always scoffed at Olorin behind his back, and at Radagast openly, Curomo the great had been the first to fail, to fall from his purpose to utter ruin. Even Radagast the Brown, least among the Istari had not fallen. He was forced to ask himself as he stood there between his Lords and Ladies, "How close am I to that abysmal precipice?" If Curomo had fallen, what was to stop him from having a like ending. The head of the Order never returned to this Land. Never to reach home to feel the warmth of the Valar's life force filling his soul, because he failed in his task. He thought of what he had accomplished, and was shamed. He and his partner had tried, in the beginning, but the East had proven too much for them. For seven years, they had fought the endless swarms of corrupted men, and orcs. Through attrition those that came with him from the West were slowly destroyed until the final battle when they were six, including himself and his brother. They had been camped near the entrance to Dinfennas pass in the Hithrig Mountains, about a quarter mile from its mouth, when the few guards they had posted called warning. The warning came late as the enemy had already surrounded them on three fronts, and was rapidly closing the fourth. He and his friend had been up instantly. They, and what remained of their force charged the thinnest parts of the line on the fourth front which faced the mouth of the pass. He realized that two armies must have come, from the North and South. Throughout his time in the East there had been hordes of the powerful Easterling warriors. The Easterlings were from a land that Morgoth Bauglir had visited and abided in for many long years before any emissary of Aman had ever reached them. There were lesser and greater servants of the Great Enemy that he had left there in his absence when he returned to Angband. They had entirely possessed the minds of the Eastern people and held them under the sway of darkness and evil. The people had never seen the Valar. To them the Valar were irrelevant, a figment of rumor that they were happy to ignore. They served One and One only, and though that One was no longer extant in the world, his servants remained. In that final battle there were no less than two of the terrible Baelrogs, the ancient guards of Morgoth. The fear of the staffs had begun to wear off; the Baelrogs were driving the two hosts into each other from either side, and one by one their companions had been killed.

At last they felt a third presence, and saw a Third host coming from the west. The third presence was much different from the other two. It had a serpentine feel to it. The only remaining companions had been the few of the elves of Lorien who had joined them. They had fallen to their knees in dismay, and had been cut down by the ravening hordes. The press of the enemy had separated him from his friend and partner; he had done the only thing he could and hoped that his partner had done the same. He had cast a decoy, an image of himself fleeing the battle, and made himself invisible to the press of foes. Then he retreated into the pass, and had climbed high onto the sides of the pass, where he had spied a small hole. Masking his presence he had waited for the search to cease. He soon found that the hole went much further into the side of the pass then he thought. He followed the small cave for what seemed like a long time until he saw light ahead. He had stumbled upon a hidden vale, like that in which Gondolin was founded in the Second Age. He explored the vale, finding running water, and food. And there he stayed. He remained in for that vale for 2133 years. For all his power and knowledge, nothing was accomplished. He simply existed. His staff had sat collecting dust, just as he had. He forgot his home. Valinor became as a distant dream, a fairy tale, remembered as a phantasm of thought.

With a start, he returns to the present to realize that Olorin has ceased speaking. He had said he was called Gandalf, and Mithrandir in Middle Earth, and both names suited him better in his new stronger persona that had come forth in his labours. There is silence for a short time after Mithrandir finished speaking. The Valar perhaps communicate amonst themselves in thought coming to a consensus. Then there comes a voice which in it's timber and inflection contains all the qualities of the endless reaches ot the heavens: a voice of eternity. It is the voice of the Elder King, Manwe, the Lord of the Air.

"You have done very well...Mithrandir, for so shall you be known to all hence forward. Great deeds have you wrought upon the plain of Middle Earth, and so Sauron and his great evil are ended at last. Above and beyond your purpose, you led the war against the Darkness. You alone accomplished what three were sent to do, and so you reach your just reward, as do the greatest who followed you.

The Fourth age has begun, the proving ground of humanity. And soon, so very soon after the end of your labours, the Council feels the stirring of new evils. We have detected stirrings and movements in the currents of power. Someone is gathering it to themselves, elevating themselves in power building their possession to truly significant proportions. Ulmo has informed us that vast armies of orcs and evil men cross his eastern rivers. His power has withdrawn from certain areas, chased out by the growing evil. We feel therefore that a significant Evil remains in the world. Few there are left who could deal with a being powerful enough to disturb currents of power the way we have sensed. We must know: Do you have any knowledge of the Ithryn Luin? Of Alatar and Pallando?"

" I know little of them," said Mithrandir. 'They traveled with us from the West, and they went into the East, perhaps as commanded, though I have no knowledge of what tasks Orome and the Counsel had given them. I never heard from them again, though perhaps Saruman did, but he never saw fit to tell Radagast and I. Thranduil of the Woodland Realms said they passed through his land. Some of his Warriors went with them, and they never returned. That is all I know."

"They must complete their task! For with these warning signs, the situation is ominous. Perhaps the existence of what we sought to preserve is in the balance. The missing has assumed renewed importance. The lost must be found, the mysteries unraveled. The Ithryn will be reminded of their mission." said Manwe.

Here the gaze of Ages shifts from Mithrandir to weigh directly upon Alatar one of two Istron of the Blue Robes, for that is his identity. None of the other Powers seek him out, but he knows now that they at least, are aware of him. One gaze was more than enough to endure; the Lord of Air's eyes pierced him through and through. He began to feel light-headed. "They must be made to...
R

I

S

E........

The World swirled about, a vortex of light and sound. He was falling, and all at once he was soaring. Blackness rose over the world, the Light was quenched. Terror took him. And he saw. The vast hordes of orcs, the Haradrim, organized and fighting upon the Southern and Eastern reaches of Gondor. He saw the blood red fleets of Death, raiding up and down the shores. War was kindled again, so very quickly after the War of the Ring. The sons and grandsons of the Hero's of the Ring embroiled in conflict again. The long slow but steady retreat of the forces of the White Tower. And the End. The result of his failures. An enslaved world. Men being corrupted by Power, changing from what was natural, to things ghastly and brutal.

And then he awoke. Words blazed in fire before him. "Seek ye Pallando thy friend. The Tree's light was always brightest when two became one. Seek the House of the White Tree!"

He awoke disoriented, lying on his back, the words fading into nothingness above him as he stared into the sky. Again he was unsure of his location, or where he had been. He had the impression of something fair having left him. some form of paradise lost to him. Slowly he sat up. He was on a large rock in the middle of a stream. Now memory of mortal life returned to him. The hidden vale from which the stream flowed west to add its significance to the Silivros River was that which he called home. He had been meditating and had gotten the impression that the water was whispering at him. A great drowsiness had taken him, and he had thus fallen into unconscious darkness. The WATER! Ulmo's communication often came from the water. The dream...nay the vision had come to him then. It was a communication, and a very pointed one, from the West itself.

He tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind. Standing, he regarded the stream, and the rock, which were now so familiar to him. There was a chill wind from the West. It smelled of rain. The heavens would open up in a deluge soon. It would be best for him to be inside before it broke. The storms of the Hithrig mountains he called home were sudden and fierce. He gazed about him, his dark eyes taking in the dense bamboo forest which carpeted the valley floor, as it began waving in the rising wind. The sun, now hazy in the clouds that were fast approaching was westering now, turning the great mountain top into an emerald haze as its rays were reflected from the tops of the bamboo stalks. It was a beautiful sight. The storm clouds were visible as a fast approaching black wall. He had to be moving on. Turning, he headed further into the vale in which he had wasted away over 2000 years.

He moved with the lightness and grace of a hale warrior who had been trained in the art of war by those who knew it best. He wore a loose flowing robe of deepest night blue. Around his waste was a black sash with a row of silver rings in the center from which hung several pouches and small bags. His belt held two of three swords he carried. The third was on his back. He had carried all three with him when he came to Middle Earth. They were all similar in appearance. Each was entirely black: sheath, handgrip, and blade. Forged from a rare form of black mithril found only in Valinor, the three swords each had runes inscribed with silver mithril which imbued them with magical properties. On his back was Gwathcrist, the Shadow-Cleaver. It's blade was three feet long; the handgrip was that of a two handed weapon, yet because of its marvelous lightness he could used it with one hand if need be. His two short swords, Nen, the Water, and Wilya, the Air, he used as a pair when the fighting got close. Not that he had been in any fighting recently. What a farce. He hadn't used them in two millenia.

One other visible weapon he bore. Many years ago, when he had passed through Lorien Galadriel had given him and ancient bow from the First Age of the Sun. It had been her brother Finrod's in the ancient days of Beleriand. Lithramar, or Ashwings it was called. It was an unusual bow with three strings running through pulleys in such a way that pulling the bow pulled all three, only two, or just one string as the bowman preferred. Its like was not found in Middle Earth. Only in the Elder Days were such things produced. It was made of an ash gray substance which was unidentifiable, even by Galadriel. She was steeped in all the oldest knowledge of the earth, but she had not been present when it was created. As far as she could determine, Finrod had been the only person who could identify it. Alatar was perfectly skilled in its use however. He had a quiver on his back which he filled with arrows. Gwathcrist in its sheath ws in turn sheathed in a slit in the quiver. The bow was strung across his back.

The wind was rising; he had even felt drops of water on his short haired head. He was different from his Western peers. His assumed appearance was that of an old but vigorous Easterling, though he was not as dark skinned as they. He did not wear a beard as the others did; a long mustache was braided and hanging down to his waist. His eyes were dark and almond shaped.

As he approached his home, he sensed something amiss. The bamboo forest was silent. This was what had caught his attention. There were always birds singing, furtive rustlings in the thickets. It was never silent. By this time night was rapidly taking the land; it was dusk. He was alarmed when he saw light near his home. The light was moving! To his horror he heard voices speaking the eastern tongue. They had discovered his long hidden home! After so many hundred's of years he was undone. He stood where he was, his mind moving mor swiftly then the lightning. Though he was tempted, he could not just leave. Of course not. What few belongings he had were exceedingly precious. He had long since gotten rid of anything he didn't actually need. He would have to get his things. His decision made, he silently climbed the heaviest bamboo stalk that was near him, his leather boots making very little noise.

Upon reaching the top, he stood on an offshoot that should not have been able to hold him, and unlimbered his bow. He stood there and watched the Easterlings. There were eight of them; six were coming and going from the cave, two stood guard. He built a suggestion in his mind, rolled it up in mist and misdirection and sent it to one of the guards. The guard went to relieve himself in the bushes leaving one guard. He pulled an arrow, nocked it, drew back and let fly as quick as thought. The shaft took the guard through the eye, and he fell silently, dead before he fell. The other man returned, but was unable to see the corpse. He called the other guard in the language of the East. He was hit in the center of his forehead. Though his fall too was silent, it ended in a pool of firelight. A third man was walking out of the cave. Seeing the body he let out a startled yelp. It was to be the last sound he ever made, but the damage was done. Three warriors emerged from the cave, weapons drawn. Two swordsmen and one archer. It was time for a change in tactics.

Alatar leapt from one thin shoot to another, the shoot barely depressing beneath him. It was raining in ernest now, the rain coming down thickly, obscuring his movements from view. He traveled around an imagined perimeter until he was opposite his original position. The three were attempting to form a defensive shield, with the two swords in front and the archer behind. It was futile however. Alatar was behind them. The wind had greatly increased now, and rain was falling in greater quantities with every passing minute. It was not arrow weather anymore. He dropped to the forest floor on the slope above his cave, and drew three throwing stars from their pouches. Two throws in quick succession, two warriors dropped. One swordsmen remains. Alatar leapt to the top of a stalk, and launched himself into the air from that elevated point. As he reached the zenith of his arc, he drew his sword. Gwathcrist would draw blood this night. The swordsmen never stood a chance. As the two halves of the corpse fell to the earth with sodden slaps, he gathered and jumped back to the top of the cave, knowing full well that two warriors remained in the cave. Belatedly, an arrow flew from the cave mouth, embedding itself in a stalk of bamboo. He waited.

Suddenely yelling and Eastern curses erupted from the cave followed by a shriek. Argumetns among the Easterners often ended violently. THe wind had lulled. Alatar nocked an arrow. A warrior came tearing from the cave, a bloody dirk in his hand. Alatar drew and fired, but the wind gusted causing the arrow to fly off its mark. It hit a dead stalk next to the man, causing it to explode into thousands of tiny bamboo shards. Alatar sprang down and chased after, knowing full well he wouldn't likely catch up with the fleeing man. The Easterling had a lead, and ran because his life depended upon it. The man dove into the opening of the hidden entrance to the vale just as Alatar came into view. There was no point in following after. In the darkness of the tunnel the man might be able to come at him unawares, and if sound of the struggle escaped, he could be sure that a horde of them would soon be upon him.

Reason indicated that the men were probably a foraging party for a larger force. He quickly moved back towards his cave, realizing now that his long home was no longer safe. Even if the message hadn't been enough to cause his departure, these warriors had discovered him, and one had escaped. They would be returning shortly. He would have to leave this night as the storm raged. It inhaled the warmth from the air, releasing it in frigid blasts. The rain was coming in waves: an army assaulting a fortress.

He looked at what the Easterners had removed from his cave. It consisted mainly of food. Ironically, their efforts made his escape easier. He grabbed one of the packs of food they had finished off. Moving across the clearing, he removed his arrows and throwing stars from the bodies and stalks of bamboo. The three star he cleaned off and replaced in their pouch. Then he went towards the cave which held his most important possession. This was his staff, Telpethond. Here was the reason he needed to find his partner Pallando. For Pallando carried Laurethond, the mate of Telpethond. The two staffs were a pair; a lesser work of the great Feanor. They had been formed from the roots of the Great Trees in old Valinor, Telperion, and Laurelin. Like the two trees they were most powerful when they were together. Each was excellently formed, each the same save for their colors. Both were topped with magnificent crystals, grasped in eagle talons, white and amber respectively Each staff had been wound with a long strip of mithril. Feanor through his great art had somehow changed the color of the metal to gold for Laurethond. Telpethond had white wood, Laurethond had a warm tawny color. He went to his spelled and locked chest , removing the guarding spells . Alatar opened the chest, and looked at al the precious items that were in it. The chest itself was magical, and held more in its dimiuitive walls than any would guess. It held loaves of Lembas he had kept like treasure all his many years. The chest also contained a crystal which would act as a ship for his mind, allowing him to see far away places, traveling over Middle Earth like a will-o-the wisp, special herbs saved in potions and other such things, and a book of all the plants of Yavanna's creation, and their properties. It had been a gift from a Maiar of Yavanna's house who was his friend. He closed the chest and enacted the spell which ws in the nature of the object. A blue light ran like water over the chest and contracted until it was a fist sized box. The light diminished and faded leaving a small cube behind, which Alatar picked up and placed in his pack. He swung the pack over his shoulders, and and walked out of his cave without looking back. Outside, the storm was in full swing. Lightning crackled across the sky leaving the smell of ozone in the air. His sharp ears picked up the sound of talking farther down the Valley. At last, they came for him.

He lept to the top of a bamboo shoot and paused there to observe the approach of the enemy. There were at least 50 of them, advancing in a square overlapping their shields for protection. It was likely that they had archers protected in the middle. They wore matching gold armor, chased with crimson. Their equiptment was obviously mass produced in some vast war forge that fed armies; the armor of an organized host. He reached over his shoulder and pulled his staff from its harness. Its warmth traveled into his hands. He whispered his call to the wind. "Naur an e draith ammen!" The lightning leapt from the the sky to his cave, striking three times and incinerating all that remained in his ancient home. He leapt to a stalk high on the slope, and continued in this manner, virtually flying to the heights surrounding the valley. He had planned an escape many years before, and as part of his plan, he had buried barrels of a highly explosive substance in the ground around his home. He again called the lightning, which struck one to the barrels, igniting all the others in a chain of flaming incineration. Turning, leaving fire and death behind him he traveled down the opposing side of the mountain, until at last he reached the floor on the other side of the mountain.

The bamboo forest was much the same here as in the vale. He stood in thought deciding what to do next. The rain had been slowing down for some time as he traveled over the mountain, and now was a dull drizzle. He turned and headed north along the base of the mountains. From the message, he knew Pallando to be to the North, and so he headed silently into the night.

So ends Chapter two in the Wars of Seregon. The story continues in "Dark Conclave" where we witness a dark meeting of powers in the Heart of Evil.

Read on in Chapter III. "Dark Conclave: The gathering storm

Action

The man stands in the rain. He is not passive. He is action. Above his head, he holds his message. Blazing in yellow, blasting out into the world, standing out all the more so because of the darkness of the day, his flame of passionate belief is there for all to see. He is courage. He is a beating heart throwing its passion out into the world, starfire hurtling out into the universe.

Gray people swirl about him, ignoring. They take a few steps to the left, a little skip to the right, anything to avoid eye contact, any kind of human interaction with him, to stay out of his light, away from the heat of his fire. That is why no one will remember their names.

Gray is not the only color on display. There are shadows too. They are metaphysical barbs with legs, the thorns on the roses, the spines that jab into everyone's feet along the road. They mock the passion. They pantomime the fire, attempting to make it meaningless. Only they seem to know the "truth" which is their own only, their private lie. They are nothing but false prophets, tricksters who take in the foolish. They try to take as many grays as possible, to turn them black, light them up with red eyes exposing a hellish soul.

Yet what am I? I passed him by. But I did not shift to be further away, shunning him like a leper, nor did I mock his action like a Pharisee. But I take no action myself. Exegesis: His beliefs are not mine, his battle not in my war. I pass him, I applaud his courage in taking action, and I reflect on the rarity of his kind. He is not political, but he could be if he had a message with wider appeal, with a call to action for other people. Who indeed IS political today? Who will come from the depths of academia to lead, to take our system of government, and the people that live IN and THROUGH it, for whom it exists, and return it to the constitutional ideals of our fathers? Return to action, involvement, empowerment as individuals. Rare are these men today. In many respects Martin Luther King is the last such man to grace our country. He built a public, he used politics in the classical sense, and the change he wrought in this nation stands for itself. People mocked him too. People repressed him, as Mahatma Ganhdi, Great Soul, was also repressed. Yet despite it all giving up their private concerns, they ACTED, and because of their action, and their dedication to their publics their names are long remembered and revered, and the results of their action carry on.

Those that mock are merely those that envy another's courage. Their nature is exemplary of failure. They will continue on in that vein their whole lives. They will make their snide remarks, their churlish statements, to the amusement of the darkened sycophantic pack of fools that they build around themselves, and their name is known for now, but in 10 years, they will be as dust, gone and forgotten by those that thought them so important.

Discussion is the root of all progression.
Contribute to the debate, or contribute to your own supression.
Say anything, for to say nothing is to be a forgotten dream.
Take action, for to be forgotten is worse than death.
Death is nothing but the end, but to exist unknown is a living hell that defeats the human purpose.

Why we need citizens, not cows

Parenting via tv is idiocy in a fantastically exaggarated form. It continutes to propagate the ridiculous notion that parents should be able to continue as if nothing has changed when they have a child. Uhm.. excuse me people, when you have a child, guess what, it's a fucking responsibility. It's not a hobby that you pursue in your spare time in between fucking yoga classes.
that being said.

Our problem as a nation (I will not get into worldwide stuff) is that we are dangerously near a corporatocracy, where ecomomic interests have begun to take over areas of public life and public interest that were never intended to be concerned with the naturally and necessarily private concerns of economics. Everywhere you see the pressure to BUY BUY BUY, and furthermore (as they produce shitty products) to but more when the poorly made products than cease to function a year later. The societal affect of this can best be described as stifling public action. We have become a nation of passive watchers and buyers whose ndividuality is being lost amid the monetary pressure to conform with everyone else and prove our value to others by the products we purchase. We watch life through our TV's and through our internet connections, and worry day to day about our own lives, our own pocketbooks, our own possession's, while forgetting that we as a national body of individuals need to actually act to preserve our rights and value that we each have as human beings. Our politicians no longer practice politics. They practice demagoguery, that is finding the center of mass of the majority and pushing on it in the most emotionally charged bullshit manner possible. They do not appeal to reason or logic. H.L Mencken described a demagogue as " one who will preach doctrines he knows to be untrue to men he knows to be idiots." The only idiots being affected today are those who are too lazy or fearful or foolish to keep themselves from being lied to.

And thus through our own negligence and lack of what would classically be described as civic interest, our individuality, that ability to be "your OWN authority and be a good person without someone in a uniform telling you to be" which Kat referenced is being lost.

By the way, the Constitution of this nation, and the ideal upon which it was founded were absolutely based upon the principle that individual people should not be beholden or constrained by a governing influence, indeed that government should be only a tool through which individuals can pursue and work towards goals that they share. It is NOT to be an instrument through which people make personal profit, it is NOT to be anything like the mass media MONSTER that it has become today. The problem is we have allowed it to happen because people are not brave enough or motivated enough, or have the "right stuff" as described by Tom Wolfe to go out there, take a risk and dive into the public world and make a personal difference. Maybe people should wake up and stop letting their tvs tell them what to do.

And a final note.
If I hear another big league politician refer to our government as a democracy I may vomit. Democracy is RULE by the people. news flash people. The Greeks hated democracy as did the founding fathers, because guess what, democracy really translates as RULE BY THE MOB. A mob is the sort of emotionally charged bullshit we have in the political parties right now. A mob is a bunch of people doing something becuase everyone else is doing it, not becuase it happens to be anything close to what they would think of doing themselves. We are intended to be a republic, res publica, return to something common and shared between all people, as in their natural intrinsic value as human beings and their individual potential to take action. Democracy is emotional unreasonable chaos. Republic is reason and logic, discussion and respect, giving value to individual people and their ideas, recognizing that every person has their own unique value that if they take the risk and plunge into the public world to share can bring good to all.
and that in a nutshell is why our society is so FUCKED UP.
How to take action? Mayhap you'll have an idea worth sharing, and you'll tell people about it, and maybe they will agree with you, or enrich your own ideas with theirs, and likewise spread their ideas along with yours, and thus through taking a stand and giving your opinion you've made a difference.
A final quote concerning demagogues:

As George Bernard Shaw said: "But though there is no difference in this respect between the best demagogue and the worst, both of them having to present their cases equally in terms of melodrama, there is all the difference in the world between the statesman who is humbugging the people into allowing him to do the will of God, in whatever disguise it may come to him, and one who is humbugging them into furthering his personal ambition and the commercial interests of the plutocrats who own the newspapers and support him on reciprocal terms."

What a Fool Hath Lost

The man's a saint, but he fakes like he's a sinner,
He's played every game, but he can't declare a winner.
Perhaps he'll get inspired, or maybe he's too tired,
But that's what you call a life wasted on the future.

This man's been given a halo, too bad it's wasted on him.
Yeah, cause he's too busy trying to stack his deck.
He's been dealt a full house, his cup is filled to the brim,
Well then it's just too bad he voided his own check.

What does he mean?
What does he know?
How can he waste a dream,
On a side that he shouldn't show?

Well he's gone and lost all he has now,
Gone and wasted his life and desire
the present became the past,
The future became the present,
He threw it all away for the future
But lost all he had been sent.

The Last Dance

My world is burning....

The financial trail of the world
It pours out through the firestorm below
If falls and falls, snow in September with none of the purity
Down goes all of it, through the gaping maw of flame that was once..
that was once office space.

I can't follow the white trail, it leads to the inferno
I stand at the window, and though I see rescue below,
I know they will never succeed, there is no precedent.
I know this is the end.

From the end I think to the beginning...
I never danced.
It felt like my body didn't want it
I've lived my life to make my name.
My name in business, my name on mortgages,
My name written on bank statements and stock options.
My name on all these things...but
I never wrote my name on a heart.

I once made a start
But we drifted apart.
She knew what it was to dance,
I thought I knew better.

Now that it's here
Now that I am ended, and all that I wrote my name on is burning away.
Now perhaps at last I will live out my past.
My thought are out in the open air, and I follow them out the window.

I will away the world as it rushes past me.
It's not falling, I'm flying.
And for the first time I dance.
For the last time I dance.
I dance, because there is no ground to hold me.
No ground to hold me, no ground can.
I dance the last dance
and I am free.

The Last Dance is centered around World Trade Center attack on 9/11/2001. I recall one of the notable things about that attack being the huge amount of papers that were pouring out of the building, thousands upon thousands of pages related to the business that the WTC conducted. The picture below, and the stories of the poor people who jumped rather than perish in the fire beneath them in the building inspired the writing, however the main point of the thing is regret over a life wasted on "being somebody" as defined by how much money a person has made and what sort of corporate position they hold, rather than enjoying life while we have it, as symbolized by dancing. I used dancing because among human activities it is one that requires its participants to not think about what other people think of how they look at the time they are dancing, a release from social pressure, and also a means of not taking everything seriously all the time, which someone who spent their whole life, including high school, looking only towards getting a high paying job would have. Many aspects of our society would have most of the youth in America do this. The question that occupied my mind, or the main thought, was that in such an event, when everything that we have worked too hard to put our names on is burning away, what will most matter to us? Assume that the person in the piece took everything very seriously and worked very hard, and was successful; say he was the president of a successful business that had it's offices in the WTC. All the stationery with his name on it, all the paper indicators of his success, even the office itself has been destroyed, or will soon be destroyed, and he realizes that he never took the time to realize how important relating to other people is. He never dropped his single minded pursuit of financial success, and as a result, he never danced, never let go. Perhaps, in the final flight, or the last dance, he decided to dance or rather...to let go. because there is nothing more important. Sherwood Anderson devoted a whole chapter of his book Winesburg, Ohio to how important it is to LIVE the life that we get, rather than always looking on to something else, and setting out minds on "important" things, while failing to experience where we ARE.

St. John's Northwestern Military Academy

First, it must be said that I am a graduate of SJNMA, class of 2008.

This is from an email I sent to one of my former instructors concerning my intent to become active in the mission to preserve certain valuable aspects of St. John’s Northwestern Military Academy that are at stake under the current direction it is taking. I have added explanatory notes where necessary for those not familiar with St. John's and its ways and its people. Furthermore, this is with an intent to put a face on the argument other than "fuck the president, he's a tool, and all these changes are gay"

Our conversation and some subsequent conversations with other current cadets and alumni have spurred a certain change in my mentality as well, especially in relation to the lessons in effective development of power that I have garnered from my political science experiences. I have heard just about enough, and have enough significant problems with how President Albert is approaching the school that I am beginning work on a rather extensive letter, which may be viewed more as a position paper rather than a letter. There are many facets to my thoughts on this, some of them more general and some more specific, so I will here attempt to summarize what I am thinking at the moment in a few separate paragraphs. Keep in mind that these are only positions, and I have not as yet begun the research aspect of what I propose to do.
There are three broad issues that I will bring up here. One is a political point, a discussion if you will of why the school has had a different scheme of power and a different solution to the same problems every year, and the effects that has had upon the cadet leadership, as well as a further support for the cadet leadership as a whole, because I would make the case that it has been underutilized. Second is the idea that Mr. President has used for a number of the years, a justification if you will. This being, the military doesn't use and "old boy new boy" system or that the methods of leadership that the academy had been using previously are somehow outdated and not accepted by the military. I think I made the point to you before that this is by no means the case, as brought to my attention very recently by Paula's experiences in boot camp, which had many, many similarities to the older system which was utilized at the academy. With regards to this argument, I do not intend to make it solely from personal experiences or from hearsay from Paula, it is actually my intention to go to the ROTC staff here at ISU, as well as my intention to write to SFC Andrasic who as a certified drill instructor is in an ideal position to comment upon this issue. The third issue basically centers on the value of a static leadership structure in opposition to the rotating absurdity that took place this year. (The Academy adopted a system in which officers that start at the lieutenant level rotate between Platoon leader, Company XO and Battalions Staff positions on a quarterly basis) This may seem like a specific complaint; however the implications of the misunderstanding implicit in this concept are deeper and farther reaching than the issue itself.

To the first point, it has struck me that President Albert, rather than acting as a President, has been more along the lines of rex; a king. At no time of which I am aware has he actively sought out the opinions of cadet leaders on anything. He has allowed us to present to him a number of times, ideas of our own, but at no time to my knowledge has any concept generated by the cadets that inhabit the Corps been taken seriously. Whether this is intentional or not I intend not to make a point of, however the effects of it are this. There is a nearly universal feeling amongst all of the cadets and former cadets with whom I have spoken that the President does not respect the cadets as the young adults that they in fact are, and this ends up being finally percieved as disdain for them on his part. It is the natural reaction to such treatment. Furthermore, as the age old argument for political pluralism would support, the President, no matter how knowledgeable about the conditions and various factors involved in the successful operation of a military academy, is only one man, and is thus limited in what he can do to only the things that he can think of. If he does not engage the opinions of the cadet corps, or the faculty, or his own staff, he weakens himself. The best president, the function of a good president is to be a very good politician, that is to say, someone who is extremely adept at listening to the ideas that a large body of unique individuals brings to the table and pulling a really good solution to whatever problem is at hand out of the discussion. To the extent that he has not given serious credence to cadet ideas at all, he severely weakens his ability to do his job. The cadets live in the system, and some of them have lived in it longer than he's been President of the academy (although that number is quickly diminishing), and so they DO in fact have a valuable perspective on it that should be taken into consideration honestly. As should the faculty. And the thing I find most disturbing about the faculty members he selected to dismiss is that they are some of the most knowledgeable members at the academy in the exact issues that are at stake. To rag on it a bit, Maj. Zirngibl led actual troops through the most trying circumstance imaginable and came through it successfully. If I were operating a leadership academy his name would top the list of men I would like to talk to, especially as the rank positions he held in the army are exactly those that fit the size of the cadet battalion. He’s actually been a platoon leader. The same can be said for 1st Sgt brown, for Sgt. Ososky, for Maj Schmid. (The academy at the end of the 2009 academic year essentially fired a strikingly high number of faculty and staff members that had been part of the academy for well over a decade; Sgt. Ososky had been there 15 years for example. The President has been there for barely a third of that)


I will not discuss the 2nd point at too much length because I think we already talked about it somewhat when I was there. Suffice it to say that the idea that the military does not have a process where you go from being New to being Old is completely false. Old boy-new boys, Sailors-Recruits, Privates-Recruits, Cadets-Plebes are all examples. It's just not true. Furthermore the military's basic training lasts between 8 to 13 weeks, depending on your branch of service, which is significantly longer than most cadets exist as Red Boards. To say that the military trains only for combat and does not fit into an academic environment is also completely false. Again from my own knowledge of Paula's experiences, a large amount of her time was spent in classes, and the exemplar that the academy supposedly follows, West Point, emphatically has an academic structure. If anything the military is one of the most effective academic institutions ever conceived. The Navy gives their Nuclear Engineers the equivalent of a 4 year degree in a highly technical and complex field in 2 years. Again through continued correspondence with her, they have a concept very similar to the Academy's study hours as well as the instructional hours after class that many instructors have. Furthermore, there is no recompense for failure, you either make the grades and move on, or you don't, which is a very valuable lesson to learn. Colleges don't accept failure, or flex very much to help those that do, because a college is simply too big to help every individual, especially if the individual does not want to be helped. So to focus on giving kids superficially high GPA's so they get admitted into college does not accomplish anything good, and in fact will make the already extensive drop-out rate skyrocket. As I said, on this point I intend to bring in as many actual opinions as I can.

The third point, is concerned as I said with the rotation. I have an issue with rotation, because it's symptomatic of the misunderstanding of the roll of cadet leaders, and of leadership in general. At the time I heard of the idea, my immediate thought, having been an officer, especially a staff officer, was that no one would have enough time to feel like they actually understood their job, or to develop successful strategies for completing their job. Recent discussion with Ryan Frank who I think you probably know to be one of the most intelligent cadets on campus (H- on final paper in studies, not an easy mark to make). He himself was transferred into the S-1 job, and he spent two hours a day working with the JUMS system, plus reading the 500 page manual for it and he told me he still had barely developed a basic understanding of its functions before he was transferred again. Precisely my point. It took me longer than a quarter to fully fit into my position and to develop the most efficient system for my activities,( as an example, the production of flyers). However this problem exists for the Platoon Leaders as well, just in a different form. Being a leader of a platoon sized unit requires the development of a leadership relationship with those cadets (or soldiers for that matter) who are your subordinates. A platoon leader is far more effective when he is able to know his followers and develop a respect for each of them, and vice versa. I have a couple examples of this off the top of my head. Let's say a kid is missing at roll call. If the Platoon leader knows what the cadet is like, he can be more effective at determining where the cadet is. as in, "I talked to him earlier today, and he seemed sort of worked up about something, and he's always talking about how much he misses his girlfriend and how much he hates the internet controls here, so he may have gone to town" or something, perhaps not the best conception of it. but the platoon leader that understands his people, will also, first of all, know exactly which room the cadet lives in, will know who his roommate is, will know where in the building the kid might go...etc. Second, from my own new boy experience being in a platoon. I had a much higher regard for my original platoon leader than I had for the Lt. who replaced him halfway about 2/3 through the semester, because I knew him and his style of leadership better than his replacement. Here's a stunning idea, how about the cadet leadership in companies be allowed to have some responsibility again, and save some RFO's some work, or heaven forbid, if you're talking about cost cutting, how about having less RFO's or giving them a reduced roll? Having the RFO's as involved in the company command structure as they have become, tends to make it more oriented towards having the RFO's run the company and just tell the cadet leaders what to do depriving the cadet leaders of authority in the eyes of their subordinates, as well as lessening their responsibilities. Hmm, an adult telling kids what to do all the time: that sounds like public school. That isn't what parents are shelling out the big bucks to pay for; they could get it for free as the local school. Now, asking kids (talking especially about high schoolers) to take some responsibility, and to learn what that's like? That's something different, and something desirable. The answer to teaching kids how to be leaders isn't simply throwing them into as many different positions as they can handle. It's giving them a specific responsibility, and yes, helping them learn how to fulfill that roll, but in the end, teaching them to stick to it. And by all means, if the cadet does not display the proper mental attitude for the job, if he does not care or take it seriously, by all means remove him from the position, (which by the way you don't need ridiculous looking blue things to indicate as a possibility) (during the 09 school year cadet leaders were given blue bands to wear on their shoulder ranks indicating that they held them on a “demonstrated aptitude” basis, which should already be inherent in the system without special recognition of its status). The point of the position is that there is esteem associated with that position, and yes, privileges, which create a desire for the cadet to do well in that position, and ably demonstrate the rewards of actually caring about something and doing the hard work.

Anyway, I have thought about this quite extensively especially in the last couple weeks due to spurring conversations with some cadets and alumni that lead me to these conclusions. It is interesting to me as well because I now posses the knowledge to see what type of argument I myself am making, and my position is essentially a conservative one (this may shock you, this is not to say, along the lines of Limbaugh or any of those buffoons, because the current conservative wing is in fact liberal..That’s a real shocker isn't it?) The classic conservative position being "wait, slow down, let's be careful, and think about things so we get it right" President Albert has been pursuing a radical agenda thus far, making sweeping changes every year, and breaking something new each time while not in fact solving the problems. First of all, I would make the argument that there are certain institutions (such as the old boy new boy system) that have been in place at the academy for a long time, as such they are Institutions, and a further conservative argument is that there is a certain respect due to long standing traditions and institution, if nothing else, merely because they have stood the test of time, and as such, they must have done something right, even if they did some things wrong. To drastically throw away an entire system without first studying what it was intended to do propagates the exact problems that the Academy is suffering from right now. I agree with President Albert (and strongly disagree with some of my fellow alumni) that the system under which kids were put in footlockers and shoved down stairs, or beaten by 5-6 officers with broomsticks is completely unacceptable. I do not however agree that the Old Boy-New Boy system was the primary cause of these problems, but rather that the rules were ignored. In the Standard that I was given as a New Boy, nowhere did it say "because you are new you deserve to be beaten and abused". What the New boy experience was intended to accomplish (as it is in the military) was to make it clear that you had entered a different place, that you are not "special" just because you are made of carbon and consume oxygen, that your place in the world, and your success in it must be created out of your own efforts. Thus, if you followed the strict and harsh rules of your new condition, eventually those rules relax, and you earn for yourself a better position. You then are to turn around as an Old Boy, and at that point at least a junior NCO, and help others who are new to the system to make the same transition. I am certain that fighting was against the regulations, and physical abuse would fall in the same category. I myself, in 05-06 was not physically abused. I was PT'd yes, it hurt yes, very much so, and was at times even unjust. but life is unjust, and if we stop at every injustice and cry about it we can never be successful in life. As Dan Postlewaite (class of 06) said, “Life is hard, get a helmet.” Every adversity is an opportunity to succeed and to grow. I grew up because of the harshness of my experience, and in so doing established the Eternus Frater, that EVERY cadet who successfully made it through possesses, or perhaps now, increasingly possessed. Rather than freak out and give up, I chose to simply accept what was happening to me, and suffer through it, and then go on from it and do my damnedest to be above reproach. And 2.5 years later I graduated as a Captain on Battalion Staff. I got the position because I earned it not because it's something that every cadet should experience simply by virtue of their parents paying for it. In fact, the military environment isn't FOR everybody. But it IS extremely beneficial to the people who can survive in it.

To the point on the effect this different scheme of leadership per year has had on the leadership, every year the cadet leaders are coming in to a new system that they have to learn, and in so doing, they don't know the system much better than the people they are attempting to lead. Cadre isn't enough time to teach a new system of doing things, and this is epitomized in the failure of the 06 07 school year. I know from personal experience that we all as cadet leaders had problems with figuring out how to get anything done under the new system, because of how drastic the changes had been, and because we had been indoctrinated under a different system (new boy old boy, pt, rigorous discipline) we couldn't figure out what to do very well under the new system without a long time period. There's a learning curve with working within the leadership system just as there is for leadership positions, and if you change the system every year, no one will ever be fully competent enough to instruct the next generation of cadet leaders.

The last thing I wanted to say about my intentions with this is that I hope to make a compelling enough argument to facilitate a change in the President's attitude (being as I doubt he has had a particularly intelligently made argument presented in this format: I understand that many times what the cadets complain about just sounds like bitching as in "it was so much better before" which can cause the dismissal of all that they say as being just more complaints. However, all complaints stem from a real source, the realization that there is something being lost and something wrong with the way in which the changes have been implemented over the past 4-5 years). But being as he has a history of simply ignoring such things, I am also intending to make sure that my argument gets sent to the head of the board of directors, again which I need to work on, as in find out who he is, and how to best get this thing to him.