Military Musings

When I read news reports about the Afghanistan war, I constantly see references to "the fighting season."  Often, these references are to the impending end of the fighting season.  No mention of the fighting playoffs or the World Series of fighting, but that's neither here nor there.  I'm just wondering about all the implications for military strategy: I mean, I'm no Colin Powell--or even Colin Farrell--or even Will Farrell--where was I?  Oh, yeah: I'm no brilliant military strategist, but, if our enemies at some point just say, "OK, we're done fighting for the year, see you in springtime," wouldn't that be a good time to attack?

Buckingham Bruiser

I know you've all been busy with Martin Luther King Parties and solemn observances of President Obama's inauguration (I might have that backwards), so I take this opportunity to update you on the news that you really need.  To wit:

Stop making fun of the Royal Family.  Not that they don't deserve it, but just for your own good.  Turns out that Prince Harry is quite the bad-ass.  He's off in Afghanistan flying Apache helicopters and bumping off Taliban insurgents.  Maybe it's the red hair--God only knows that gingers are capable of all manner of depravity--but Harry may be the fiercest Royal warrior since Henry V (the Kenneth Branagh variety, not that wuss Olivier)--or at least since the Queen Mum faced down a Luftwaffe squadron armed with nothing but a bumbershoot and a package of Pontefract Cakes.

So, congratulations President Obama.  And while you're guarding us against terrorist insurgents, just give a small prayer of thanks that the Brits are on our side.

(This post has been edited to reflect the following correction: "bumbershoot" is now spelled correctly.  God, you readers are persnickety!)

Kabul Game of Thrones

If you're like me, you have a paralyzing fear of gravlax.  Also, you're wondering what you're going to do for the next several months until "Game of Thrones" comes back.  May I suggest, Afghanistan!  The Central Asian hotspot has all the intrigue of "GoT," albeit with a disappointing scarcity of dragons.  With American forces scheduled to leave the country and the end of President Hamid Karzai's term approaching, a looming power vacuum promises to create all manner of intrigue.  The catch, of course, is that the key players--the aspiring politicians, the corrupt businessmen--are all named "Karzai."  So if you had trouble telling Lannisters from Starks from Baratheons from Targareans, just imagine the difficulty of keeping straight the machinations of Mahmoud Karzai, Shah Wali Karzai, Qayum Karzai, Ahmed Wali Karzai, and others.  (Pretty sure at least one of those guys is dead; don't know whether that makes things more or less complicated.)

The "buried lede" of this story? "When asked through Gerald Posner, a Karzai family lawyer, about Zamarai and whether he is holding him, Shah Wali Karzai declined to comment."  Gerald Posner?  So, even this most prominent of Pashtun families, leaders of a Muslim country, turns to a Jewish lawyer.  Gotta love it.

Silly Afghans! Triskadekaphobia Is for Kids!

Regular readers of this blog know that the writer of this blog is a regular reader of The New York Times.  Despite the parlous state of newspaper journalism, the Times remains the paper of record not only for New York, but for the nation as a whole.  Still, every once in a while, an editorial oversight so glaring occurs that the Solipsist has to step in and fix things.  And so it was today.

In an article about a recent loya jirga in Afghanistan by Rod Nordland, the following factoid appeared:

"Even before the delegates, divided into 40 working committees, began to take up the jirga’s main issues on Wednesday, there was the thorny matter of Committee 39.

In recent years, Afghans have come to strongly associate that number with pimps, considered the absolute dregs of Afghan society. Most Afghans are so touchy about it that they won’t buy a car with 39 on the license plate, or even use a telephone number with those digits in it."

Now, the jirga simply adopted the strategy--long practiced by elevator-designers in more-than-thirteen-floored buildings--of skipping the offending number, thus making committee #39 into committee #41.

(DIGRESSION: Technically, comittee #39 should have become committee #40, and committee #40 should have become committee #41, but this is Afghanistan we're talking about; any solution that avoids the beheading of a goat is something to be thankful for. EOD)

But, come on Nordland!  How can you provide us with this delightful--yet essentially meaningless--tidbit without explaining where this superstition comes from?

Don't worry, Nation.  The Solipsist is on the case.  According to a few different sources, the precise origin of the superstition is unclear.  Several sites, however, suggest that there was, in fact, a pimp nicknamed '39' because the number appeared on his license plate and was also his apartment number.  Another reliable source (OK, Wikipedia) suggests that the number 39 translates into 'morda-gow,' which is a slang term for 'pimp.'

Just to throw my own meaningless interpretation into the mix: '39' is three times 13, the only TRULY unlucky number.

Now, was that so hard?

(NOTE: I know the post title isn't exactly relevant, but I couldn't resust.)

Sunday Paper Recap

The good news is that this (by which we mean the toxic effects of BP's multi-million gallon oil spill) too shall pass: “Thoughts that this is going to kill the Gulf of Mexico are just wild overreactions,” said Jeffrey W. Short, a scientist who led some of the most important research after the Exxon Valdez spill and now works for an environmental advocacy group called Oceana. “It’s going to go away, the oil is. It’s not going to last forever.”

Of course, the bad news is that nobody knows how long it will take to "go away"--or even what "going away" really means. Apparently, toxic effects can linger long after the oil disappears, and the underlying ecology of a region can be irrevocably altered. Oil from a major spill in the Gulf of Mexico still shows up in local mangrove swamps, and fiddler crabs off the coast of New England wander about drunkenly in attempts to avoid oily sediment. And, frankly, if poisoned wetlands and contaminated coastlines are the price we pay for drunken crustaceans, we're OK with that.

In a move that surprises no one at Solipsist Central, big insurers and their corporate clientele may limit the number of doctors and hospitals from which policyholders may choose. Cost-cutting. At this moment, Glenn Beck has probably downed a few dozen Bud Lights, and Sarah Palin has gotten "toldja so" printed out on cue cards (complete with stage directions for when to wink): We have to admit, it does seem to fly in the face of President Obama's pledge that no one was going to have to change doctors when the new health law goes into effect.

Relax, people. Corporations and insurers can do what they will to cut costs--after all, that's part of the idea of all the healthcare reform in the first place. Participating insurers will still have to provide a fair number of options, and everybody will be able to get to see a doctor. Frankly, as someone who basically grew up under the auspices of managed care, we've never formed a deep, unbreakable bond with any medical provider. If we have, say, 25 doctors to choose from instead of 50, it's a reasonable proce to pay if it ensures that people will have access to care.

But what do we know? We're just a blogger. It's not like we've written a book about building schools in Afghanistan. And while that may not qualify one to comment on healthcare reform, it apparently is a solid resume component for strategic military planning. The US army has turned for advice to Greg Mortenson, the author of Three Cups of Tea, about his efforts to build girls' schools in the AfPak region. Not so ridiculous, really. If the US Army really does want to win the hearts and minds of the Afghan population, it makes sense to turn for inspiration to someone who has made something of a career out of reaching out to the region with education instead of bullets. Sure, it's not as innovative as warrior monkeys, but it could work.


The aforementioned Lady Palin has lots of opportunities to trot out her newest Obama laughlines. She's the big "get" for aspiring Republicans these days. Over one hundred Republican candidates running for everything from senator to governor to local dog catcher have found themselves on the receiving end of Palin endorsements. Candidates don't even necessarily know Palin is considering an endorsement until they receive word that it has come. In this, Palin has taken a page from the MacArthur Foundation, recipients of whose "Genius Grants" don't even know they are under consideration until they get the big call. We realize the use of the words "genius" and "Sarah Palin" in one paragraph may strike some as ludicrous. Then again, a week ago, people would have said that machine-gun toting baboons was a ludicrous idea as well.

All right, enough about Taliban monkeys.

Finally, we note that, when Sarah Palin gives her endorsements, they often first appear on her Facebook page. And while Facebook has no problem promulgating the cause of right-wing culture warriors--or, to be fair, left-wing culture warriors--it does have a problem with death. What is a social network with some half a billion users to do when one of its members dies? It's not as though the member can change his own status message: "THE SOLIPSIST is dead!" The problem arises when Facebook's automated notifications tell people that they should "get back in touch" with people who have passed over. Technology marches on, but it can't always get ahead of the ghosts in the machine.