I read an interesting article by the father of a Marine on-leave, who relayed the sentiments of his son:

[According to said Marine] morale among our guys is very high. They not only believe they are winning, but that they are winning decisively. They are stunned and dismayed by what they see in the American press, whom they almost universally view as against them. The embedded reporters are despised and distrusted. They are inflicting casualties at a rate of 20-1 and then see shit like “Are we losing in Iraq” on TV and the print media. 

Today’s the day that we’re supposed to be thinking about all of our Veterans, and about those who are currently deployed. That speaks volumes.

And you can’t argue with it.

For all your sacrifices, guys and gals from past to present, I, for one, Salute you. Thanks for being there and doing what needs to be done.

Friday afternoon, an unseasonably warm November 4th, I received a call telling me that Casey Jones had slipped into the ether after an extended battle with cancer. There are so many things which can be said of Casey: a strong local businessman, a fair and balanced politician, an influential leader, champion for the working man, a charitable soul who saw promise where others saw failure, a wise and powerful mentor, a steadfast friend, and, before any of that, a man devoted to his family.

Perhaps most telling of Casey’s endless generosity is a line from his obituary:

“In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to support the Beck Cultural Exchange Center’s Legacy Path Project 1927 Dandridge Ave. Knoxville, Tenn. 37915 or through youth golf scholarships for the Wee Course at Williams Creek payable to WC Two Inc., 1130 Atlantic Ave. Knoxville, Tenn. 37917.”

In extolling the virtues of such a great man — a legend, a pillar, a dear friend — we must also remember: he was still just a man. And this is not a man whose passing should be mourned; rather, he is someone we should aspire to be more like.

Casey, you will be sorely missed.

Photo Copyright © Knoxville News Sentinel

Now, the amusing part here is *not* the sign itself. To me, it’s just a moose-crossing sign. I’ve seen plenty of those in Canada.

This one, however, is located just outside of Linton, Indiana. On a farm. Where they raise … Buffalo.

Buffalo.

Not moose.

Sure, I said we were open and ready to roll. Unfortunately, in our little clique, people are either out of town, enjoying Fall Break with their children or just too damn busy to even think about sitting down to write an introduction (yeah, guys, you know who are!). I can’t entertain you alone. Bah. So … look forward to next week when everyone returns to the grind!

This unfortunate sign was seen on I-57 in Illinois. Guys always exaggerate, don’t they?