It is the motto of the U.S. Special Forces.

I saw the movie trailer for “Act of Valor” (posted below) and remembered the tragedy earlier in the year, when we lost 31 U.S. Special Forces soldiers and 7 Afghani allies in a helicopter crash.  We need more men like these, dedicated to courage, honor, loyalty and the freedom of others.  God make of us true men.

What takes true courage and strength is to be a real man.  A man of God.  A family man.  A man of honor.  Few manage to do those things, whether because they’re  more difficult than the others, or because they’ve been deluded and deceived into chasing false idols that never truly fulfill.  Some never make the attempt, because they’ve not been shown what a true man looks like.

That’s why movies like the one promoted below are so valuable.  Catch this one while it’s still in the theaters.

I remember when you first used that line, all the way back in the early 80s.  Yes, I was but a year or three old.  In my mind, the cranky beef craving granny is linked with another pivotal experience of my earliest youth.  I was sitting in the recliner, left alone by myself in the darkened living room during “The Wizard of Oz”, when the flying monkies took Dorothy, Toto, and me completely unawares.

I had no recourse but to surround myself in a warm, pungent layer of my own poo, right there in the recliner.  Monkeys be damned, if they were going to come through that screen and abduct me from my loving home, they’d pay a price.

Things have changed Wendy.  “Where’s the beef?”

The beef’s right here, baby, all grown up and ready to kick some flying monkey ass.

1.  Subject/Victim:  A bespectacled man in his 50s.

My Comment:  “That book is awesome.  You have no idea how many ways I could kill you right now.”

Sidenote:  I own this book and it IS awesome.

2.  Subject/Victim:  A middle-aged woman in the “Religion” section.

My comment:   “Yeah…right…  More like ‘D-Bag Chopra’.”

3.  Subject/Victim:  Tanned blonde co-ed in the “Wellness” section near the “Comedy” section.

My comment:  “You know, I was the inspiration for this book.  It’s really a biography.”

4.  Subject/Victim:  Wealthy looking elderly couple.

My comment:  “Do you happen to be millionaires?  Because I’d like to discuss this book and an exciting investment opportunity with you…”

5.  Subject/Victim:  Completely average WASP in the bargain bin.

My Comment:  “Ha!  No wonder they haven’t sold this book.  Everyone knows potheads can’t read.”

How do we explain Norse gods?  They were aliens.

Finely crafted stone buildings built thousands of years ago?  Clearly made by aliens.

Life appears on the planet?  Put here by aliens.

Monster stories from other cultures?  Aliens.

The virgin birth of Mary?  Artificial alien insemination.

Humans experience a rapid period of progress at the end of the last Ice Age?  Aliens having sex with humans to make us more intelligent.

Please.  And then there is this guy’s hair and orange skin.   The real question is not whether aliens rampaged through our ancient history, but who’s hair is worse, Giorgio’s or Nic Cage’s:

Soccer was always my favorite sport, both to play and watch.  At any rate, the play today was impressive, and I thought I might lend the perspective of new eyes to today’s match between the US and Japan:

1.  Disappointed fans should cut our American girls some slack.  They played a stellar game, and with the exception of one mistake (trying to cross that ball in front of the goal instead of clearing it away), would have won.  In the words of an old character from classic cinema, “Sometimes, thems the breaks.”

2.  The Japanese goalie was totally a dude!  Somehow he ninja’d his junk away during inspections.

3.  We did not face a human team–those were bionically enhanced Japanese women!  If you doubt my words, consider an old “Robocalypse” post of mine, and the stated Japanese ambition of fielding an entirely robotic World Cup team. One “Shu Ishiguro, head of Robot Laboratory in Osaka, is confident that by 2050 Japanese robots will beat the human winners of World Cup Soccer.”

3.  At the game’s conclusion,  the female ESPN anchor said, “I’d take Hope Solo in my net any day.”   This took the prize for lines of commentary that could make a great double entendre.   If by “net”, she meant something else, I think many male spectators could get behind that statement.

4.  About Ms. Hope, every right-thinking bachelor in America had the following thought once during the game,  “If Hope Solo and I had a love-child, we could totally name him ‘Han’!”

5.  Lest you think me a total chauvinistic pig, I ask, who wouldn’t want to date Hope or one of the other players?  These women have the qualities any decent man wants in a wife and the mother of his children:  A.  They are disciplined and hard-working.  B.  They’ve chosen a healthy and physically fit lifestyle. C.  They have that balance between healthy pride and humility, and show the capacity to be team players, with all the compromise and sacrifice an outstanding team or marriage needs. D.  Okay, yes, there are good-looking women on that team.

6.  Did anyone else find the choice of post-game advertising totally bizarre?  A great commercial about the ladies on the team that was inspiring and uplifting for girls, followed rapidly by a spot for “CougarLife.com…voted the Wildest Dating Site on the Web”.      ?!     Talk about conflicting messages.  And let me tell you, as a man who had an 81 year old black woman named “Mama Hays” offer to teach him “everything (you) need to know bout makin’ FINE love to a woman”  one should not be too eager to experience that “wildness”.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Hell yeah!

No, I’m not kidding–professional pigeon racing!

You might be thinking, “That can’t be interesting,” but YOU’D BE WRONG, sucka! Tyson takes you straight into the emotional turbulence of his checkered, ear-biting past, and brings you out the other side to find the new champ, a man that is a tender-hearted lover of flying rats.  He’s actually likable.

The pilot episode included hilarious lines, but a few of which you can find in the youtube trailer for the series:

Now I could never race pigeons.  I don’t like the way they look at us, with such creepy, distracted malevolence.  If they were as big as a volkswagon, I’m sure they’d be swooping down from above, beaking people in half, or killing us with basketball sized droppings.  It’d be a regular Pigeonocalypse.  Thank God we won Mother Nature’s lottery and got the size advantage on them.

I’m just glad they’re cooking and not taking Christian slaves.  Catastrophically awesome!