haqiqat's New Writeups

April 25, 2013 (dream)

2013-04-25T05:53:13Z

In this dream:

I have a brief clip of movie and soundtrack stuck in my head, but I can't remember which movie it's from.

I am trying desperately to search the Internet for the answer, but in the same manner that you sometimes can't read or write properly in dreams, I can't operate the computer properly, and all I can get to is YouTube.

Eventually I get the words I think I need, "ewan macgreggor technicolor song about babboon" [sic], plugged into the little box and click search.

Instead of anything remotely like what I was searching for, I was treated to a movie trailer for Quentin Tarantino's latest film. It opens with the familiar text

The following PREVIEW has been approved for...

And suddenly, the music starts: it's the opening riffs of The Next Episode by Dr. Dre (ft. Snoop Dogg). Chunks of what will probably end up being the opening credits roll in olive drab on a khaki background.

…

April 19, 2013 (log)

2013-04-19T14:22:54Z

Chechens, are you goddamned kidding me? I admit to being completely taken by surprise here, but the pieces fit together with eerie accuracy.

The two prime suspects in the Boston bombing, apparently two Chechen brothers Tamerlan Tsarnaev and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, highjacked a vehicle in the course of their activity this morning, and told the driver they were the Boston bombers. One of them is currently dead, the other on the run.

For those of you who are not aware, Chechens come from Chechnya. Russia has been dealing with them for decades; specifically, the batshit ones who keep pulling terrorist shit all over the region, particularly in Russia. Most Chechen terrorism is religiously motivated; this is a side effect of strong Chechen separatist movements which have been strongly based on identity politics with an Islamic focus since about WWII; they cropped up in earnest right around the time the Soviet Union attempted its first major "Russification" of Chechnya. At one point in the…

April 16, 2013 (log)

2013-04-16T15:51:57Z

Good morning E2.

It's time to exercise my God-given American Freedomâ¢ to speculate on some of the details of the recent Boston Marathon bombing.

There are a lot of talking heads babbling about the incident right now, but none of them to my knowledge have touched on a couple interesting tidbits, not even the "terror experts" or the "military analysts" that make the usual rounds with the big networks.

Most by now know that none of the major players in the overseas terror game have claimed responsibility, some (for example, the Tarikh-e-Taliban Pakistan, also known as Pakistani Taliban) have even run away screaming in the opposite direction as credit. I won't speculate on the identity of the perpetrator or perpetrators (right wing domestic! radical immigrant! greenpeace! zionist late abortion squads!) but I will discuss some of the things so far that have raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Keep in mind that I have no special plug-ins, no secret…

This runs deeper than a bruised ego (personal)

2013-04-16T03:16:50Z

Let me tell you a story. It's a story about my little sister.

My sister and I have always been extremely different. Two opposite corners of the Punnett Square in every regard. In fact, a lot of folks while we were growing up thought we only shared one parent due to the extreme physical differences.

I was (and am) tall, dark, thin. She was blonde and almond colored and built to beat asses. I was the Terror Child from Beyond Hell, and she was the perfect angel. I was angsty and introverted; she the social butterfly.

I knew when she was about thirteen that she was gay. I never said anything, but she came out to me explicitly years later. After I'd left the house, actually, and after she'd started making a lot of really bad choices with women and drugs and the law.

At some point, when my parents' pressure to do something besides get shitfaced and fuck all night became too great, she decided that she ought to follow…

April 14, 2013 (log)

2013-04-14T22:52:42Z

What a beautiful day. I made the trip out to the rifle range and was most pleased.

The place was busy as hell when I showed up, but most of the crowd cleared up before the next course of fire started. Now, I say "busy", but busy today and busy two years ago are very different, things being what they are with trying to get ammo in quantity, and people being obnoxious hoarders, it's rare to see the place half full when there's not a special event or police training course going on.

The new rifle is exceptional, even shooting godawful surplus. Finally got the glass dialed in to just about as good as it's going to get; it took more math than usual to get the unfamiliar Russian optics to where they needed to be, given that they're calibrated in meters and the range berms are set in yards. So, by comparing a drop table more or less appropriate for the load and barrel length, converting distances at the approximate rate of 91 meters per 100 yards, and figuring hold-unders to account…

I'll spot you one friend, or two chair legs (person)

2013-04-13T11:19:58Z

THUMP....THUMP....THUMP

What the fuck is going on?

THUMP....THUMP....THUMP

What izzat? What izzat noise?

THUMP....THUMP....THUMP

What in God's name...?

THUMP....THUMP....THUMP

Gawdammit Jones!

THUMP....THUMP....THUMP

Can you dragTHUMPthat thingTHUMPsomewhere else?THUMP

"Make me!"

We'll call him... Chief Petty Officer Jones.

Chief Jones is a tough hombre. Tough as old boots. Tough as iron nails. Rowdy Roddy Piper, "They Live" fight scene tough. How can I explain this to you?

Chief Jones is five feet, ten inches tall, and he weighs two hundred seventy five pounds. He is built like a statue of a forgotten Greek god, animated by magic. (Chief Jones is also very, very ugly, and he will be the first to admit it.)

Chief Jones is capable of…