The First Flyer of the Rest of Our Lives

 

Attention Babysitters: 

Need to flatten a bump in the night?

Problems pacifying your prepubescent youths because of purported bedtime boogeymen?

Nocturnal nasties keeping kids awake and active?

For a fee, we fight fanged fiends, banish bedroom beasts, and topple troublesome terrors.

Call us to calm your churlish charges.

 

MARCUS AND MARLIN MARDIS:

MASTER MONSTER MURDERERS

 (demons by appointment)

Recent Headlines

Caveat: It has been a long, difficult time since my last post.  As my COVID fugue goes away, my writing will improve, as always.  Just... bear with me while things get more combobulated over here.

Recently, Tucker Carlson, Laura Ingrahm, and a certain Congressman decided they had some strong opinions about GEN Milley, SECDEF, and Critical Race Theory.  So, here are some honest points about all the above.

First, the three people mentioned have always been completely fucking awful human beings.  As such, my opinion on them has not changed at all.  It should be very clear that to them, and their ilk, their fans, when a POC kneels during the anthem it's disrespecting the troops.  But when Ass-eyes McChucklefuck calls a 4-star General that has spent more time in a firefight than Literal Human Shit has spent enduring hardship in his entire life, it's totally cool.  

They have always been racist, vile, hypocritical garbage people, and there's nothing I can or should add to that.  This whole scene is just another drop in the bucket.  

Second and much more important: The 'anecdotal evidence' that people from 'majority minority units' are coming up to a certain child-molesting, square headed congressman, and telling him that extremist training is making things more divided in the military, and that it's making it harder for conservatives to be heard.

Service members (to include still serving, retired, combat veterans, and non-combat veterans) are by no means the epitome of moral turpitude and uprightness.  I know a group of South FL veterans that advocate hitting protesters (you know, the 1st amendment thing) with their cars.  I joined the Army right before Obama got elected, and there were some words used by a lot of white people unhappy with that result.  I was in Romania when Trump got elected, and I watched in real time as world opinion of the US fell apart.  I know plenty of shitty officers, non-comms, and enlisted personnel.  I also know the vast majority are good people.  

Here's my rebuttal to that anecdotal evidence: Almost every office has at least one very vocal conservative.  They are quick to pontificate on Trump, or the evils of BLM or Antifa, how transgenders are ruining America, or how "If a gay dude ever checked me out in the shower, I'd cut his fucking throat."  And when anyone tells them that they are in the wrong place, that the topics they are discussing aren't workplace appropriate, or that people no longer trust them to fly with them or be around them because of their homophobia, they immediately twist that into their voices being silenced.  Which then becomes an issue of, if you disagree with this person, can I rely on them in combat.

And now, a lot of the people that take issue with the training we're getting are those exact same people.  DACs who will, unprompted, try to strike up a conversation about, "He, she, it, whatever the hell that thing is."  Active duty service members that bitch and moan, "Wow, looks like I'm one of those extremists, because I have those tendencies, har har," yeah, no shit guy, that's why I keep a fucking eye on you all the time.

I flew Maj Hassan around during his trial.  I was at Fort Hood for the second shooting.  Soldiers have been found trying to recruit people into white supremist organizations, and have been kicked out for being vocal members of the same.  Yes, Congressman I-Would-Have-Joined-The-Military-But, extremism in the military exists, needs to be addressed, and needs to be snuffed out.

GEN Milley with the win on, "I've read Lenin, and Marx, that doesn't make me a communist.  I want to understand."  Brilliant.  

Unpopular opinion: The Greatest Generation wasn't that great.  That's a discussion for another time.

In other news, I just turned 36, and, well... 

Gruncle Stan, speaking truth.  (Photo Credit: Disney)

A lot has been going on in my life recently.  Afghanistan was a year of triumphs, hope, frustration, loss.  Losing good aviators and brothers is hard, watching them die is harder, that's all I'll say about that.  My return was... eventful, and that's all I'll say about that.  

Now, as the brain-fog from COVID lifts (actual thing, REALLY sucked, made everything difficult) and my knee self-repairs, I'm preparing for another year long adventure overseas in short order (that is to say, I'll be in the US for less than 8 months total this time).  

In the meantime, I will post my post-36 workouts; my obsession with painting tabletop miniatures using these frigging amazing colors from Stuart Semple; and attempt keep up with my writing by putting up new chapters to Marcus and Marlin Mardis: Master Monster Murderers.

Which now means this blog is officially not for Bean Boy.

Prepare yourselves for book 2:

Marcus and Marlin Mardis: Midlife Monster Madness

Adventures in Isolation: My 15-day Quarantine in Afghanistan (Pt. 2)

Day 4: #dontkinkshamemebro

Realizing, after a restless night, that my pathological desire to maintain introversion is highly contingent upon the availability of external sources of mental stimulation.  Namely the internet, video games, and books, though not necessarily in that order.  A marked lack of privacy and enforced socialization (tangentially, at least.  One cannot avoid interaction when essentially imprisoned in close proximity with other people) combined with an acute absence of customary forms of diversion and modern dalliances has forced my subservient extrovert into the fore, and my dominant introvert down. 

It IS fun to believe they're in a dom/sub relationship.  Introvert Dom loves to humiliate Extrovert Sub in public by demanding interaction.  Hmm, or is it the other way around?  What ever, don't psychologically kink-shame me.

There is a positive aspect to all this in the form of daily writing.  Not only has it become my retreat from the tedium of isolation, but I once again assert that writing (like any other creative outlet) is a muscle that needs be exercised for improvement.  Source:  Compare Day 1’s ramblings to this morning’s. 

Bear in mind, this revelation is slightly diminished by the fact that I woke up with Crazy Town’s Butterfly playing in my dreams, and slammed my head into the ceiling again. 

1045: The 15 of us have been collectively informed during our daily screening that our incarceration time has been reset to Day 1 due to the troop displaying symptoms.  When asked if his results were to come back negative for COVID-19, a one week turn-around time, will be reset to our original timeline; the answer was a resounding, “As of right now, no.”

1048: It’s raining now.  Because of course it is.

1115: We officially have operational washers and dryers.  Washer and dryer.  One each.

1417: This is for everyone in the back that didn’t hear it the first time:  Just like flight school, unless someone asks specifically about your Boot Camp experience, keep it to yourself you fucking plebe.

XXXX: Watched a test fire of the C-RAM, so I made an appropriate meme.

             

1720: It is official, our quarantime has been reset regardless of actual disease per CDC and DCCS guidance.  Today is now Day 2.

2152: Still raining, but I managed to revise and edit Chapter 1 of M6.  Added exactly 700 more words, and cleaned up some of the sloppy pacing.  Feeling pretty good about myself.  …let’s see how long that lasts.

Day 3.2: COVID boogaloo

Debating on whether my lack of quality sleep is more attributed to the arctic air blasting out of the (now clean thanks to a pressure wash and medical grade disinfectant) air conditioner, or the twin sized thermoplastic polyurethane innerspring/reticulated polyurethane foam ‘mattress.’  In either case, I woke up to the sound of gunfire, which wouldn’t normally bother me, but I’ve been in country for a week now and still have no ammunition. 

Makes me feel nekkers.

1100: Some Private dropped his food and left it there.  Whelp, it’s time to take the proffered room.  Previous remarks about my psyche notwithstanding, I think it best for my mental health if I spend the next 10 days away from these kids.  Well, that and if another person in the berthing container gets sick, it resets our time again and ya know… I just want to get started.  It’s been a month since I’ve been in a helicopter, this two-dimensional thing here on the ground ain’t my jam.

I JUST WANNA FLY.

1440: Oh Gods, autonomy is the best.  Great nap, improv-gym time.  Another leg day!

So much better.  If you guys from 2455A are reading this, I miss you, but like... not enough to give up this room.  I'm right down the road anyway.

        XXXX: Was just typing up my notes from the AMA, finishing up the question about IDF when we started taking rounds directly overhead.  How did I know it was directly overhead?  Funny you should ask.  As Joe and I were laying down in the hallway, the BRRRRRRT of our C-RAM was punctuated by debris from one of the rockets pattering all over our roof.  Further confirmation provided by a video of two C-RAM systems tracking rounds directly overhead.  I will admit that having a counter-IDF system makes the whole experience significantly less bowel-clenching.

Apparently, I react the same way to discarded apple cores as I do to a gaggle of Privates milling about just watching the light show as we take IDF.  In all fairness, I did the same thing my first time.  There were forceful orders and directions given.  I may be referred to as Angry Chief from now on, but everyone is safe, and I can live with that.  Bet they’ll move faster next time.

Not an adequate substitute for flying, but I’ll take an adrenaline jolt wherever I can get it.

Does that make me crazy?

Day 4.2

I slept GREAT.

Day 7

Let’s do the time warp agaaaaaaaain.  No, I did not skip two days, our wayward plague bearer has been asymptomatic for the past few days, and if he continues in good health, our quarantine will resume on the original timeline per CDC guidance.  What a roller-coaster.

Also, it was leg day again.

We managed to wrangle a projector, so movie night is a possibility as long as the weather holds out.

Day 8

It is still raining.  I have dipped into my emergency tea stash.  One of the guys did put on a mix of late 90’s rap-rock (ft. Crazytown, Limp Bizkit, and Cottonmouth Kings), so at least I finally got Butterfly out of my head.

"Raprock band with a DJ? Somebody tell this band what year it is."
"Haha, they're kidding.  He just means the business is tough, that's all."
"I mean I haven't heard a note from you guys, and I don't like anything about you.  That's what I mean."

Day 9

The rain has taken a short hiatus, but left devastation in its wake.  I shared about two weeks worth of tea with our Czech allies, for which they seemed incredibly grateful having only been able to drink Army issued Lipton.  

The humanity.  ...or lack thereof.

          Our resident Medic managed to secure me some amazing new supplies to restock my kit.  Yes, I am well aware of the astronomically low odds that I’ll ever use any of it (especially the Cric kit), but if Batman is carrying around shark repellent just in case, you can be damn sure I won’t be caught out.

Top Left to Right: Leatherman Trauma Shears, Gerber multi-tool, seat belt cutter, Israeli bandages, tape, combat gauze, regular gauze.  Bottom Left to Right: Emergency Cric kit, NCD's, chest seals, tourniquets.   

Packed into this awesome bag my dad got me.  Thanks, dad!

Day 10

STILL.  RAINING.

Thinking about that Facebook meme saying “The 4^th person you @ is your quarantine buddy.”   

These dudes are okay, I guess.  #quaranteam

 

Day 11

Another kid got sick, so they’re taking our temperatures twice a day now.  98.1 and 98.6.  Tonight was movie night.  Jon Wick; excellent movie, confirmed I still have it bad for tattooed, dark haired, rockabilly girls.  Then, I watched Pride and Prejudice on my own, because Jane Austen is a treasure and Elisabeth Bennett is my spirit animal. 

Day 12

Allergy season is upon me.  I have reached the point of congestion where I’ve forgotten what it feels like to breathe normally.  However, as COVID-19 consists of a dry cough and flu like symptoms, I’m alright.  Less alright that we’ve been informed of another day added to our incarceration for reasons.  While this is extremely frustrating, it does what it’s told or else is gets the hose again.

Day 13

Thinking about telling everyone that the whole being in Afghanistan thing is my April fool’s joke.  I’ve actually been playing piano in a Parisian bordello for wine and free rent.  Honestly though, what kind of jackasses have a gunfight at 0300.  They need to chill the hell out outside the gate.  Mood may be slightly sullied by the fact that I’m 72” tall, sleeping on a 74” ‘bed’ with a permanent dip in the middle.  Apparently, thermoplastic cannot handle the heat of this body.

Day 14

0730: It is raining.  Current internal temperature: 98.1 (The STURGE; coming at you with the greatest hits of the 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s.  It’s 7.30 and we’re live with Jonny and Joe in the Morning to get you through your A.M. drive).

1145: I have made friends with a bird we call Charlie.  He prefers boiled egg-whites but will accept bread in a pinch.  While he has yet to eat out of my hand directly, he did wait patiently about six inches from me while I tore some bread apart for him.  I suppose this is fortunate, as bird flu is not a welcome alternative to COVID-19.

1200: Charlie has had his fill of bread and left with a thank you squawk (at least, he squawked and that is what I choose to imagine).  As much as these past few weeks have sucked in general, there has been good company and Air Force grade toilet paper (much more comfortable.  Gotta hunt the good stuff).  All in all, still a better deployment than last time.

                2214: All my bags are packed (again), I’m ready to go (again).  But it looks like we’re going to be waiting on a ride for a few more days.  Tomorrow there will be much in the way of exploring our surroundings. 

Total score for this deployment so far: Jonny 1, IDF 0

New Deployer AMA with Special Guests: The Triple Deuce

In quarantine with 2-22 Infantry boys, asking the first time deployers what they wish they would have known prior to getting into country and what questions they wanted to ask about where they are.  It turned into a mildly ridiculous AMA with some good questions, appropriate answers, and the usual absurdity you’d associate with a group of 18-25 year olds mentally preparing themselves for 9 months in a foreign land.

Not to be confused with the Double Deuce.

Questions asked by first time deployers:

1- As we approach a peace treaty, am I going to do my job?

                A: Afghanistan is a complicated country with a long history of internecine tribal conflict exacerbated by foreign powers.  The ultimate goal of a peace treaty is to get the Taliban and GIROA cooperating towards a national, rather than tribal, interest.  There are factions within the Taliban that refuse to abide by any treaties, as well as organizations such as ISIS and Al-Haqani that maintain allegiance only to themselves and profit off of conflict and the illegal drug trade.  So, while one piece of the puzzle is seemingly in place, there are still plenty left.  This is not a simple yes or no question; only a very solid maybe.

2- What are the locals like and what is the food like?

                A: People are people are people.  What I try to tell everyone headed here for a tour is to remember that you’ll be here for 6-12 months, then you go home.  This is home for them.  They have been at war, in one form or another, for nearly 40 years, and it’s happening in their streets, their businesses, their homes.  One of the biggest mistakes the US made in dealing with the Afghans was operating under the assumption that Afghans were equivalent to Iraqis; it took 15 years to figure out that we need to train our people how to act appropriately here.  Treat them with respect and invest some time into learning about their culture.  They have a very laissez-faire attitude to time, a highly contextual culture (they would rather talk and tell a story that leads to an answer than give you a direct answer), do not deal well with negative criticism, and hold their faith in the highest regards.  And, remember that a little bit goes a long way, learn at least a few words of Dari, Pashto, or Farsi, depending on the region you’re operating in, just to show you’re making an effort.

                As far as the food is concerned; always take tea when it is offered.  Always. Chai is delicious, but there is some deep-rooted etiquette with accepting tea.  The food ranges from incredible to gut wrenching, but in all cases, accept the food as well.  However, to prevent any gastronomical upset, drink some peptobismol or milk to coat your stomach. 

               

3- Where am I going when I get there?

                A: No clue.  For the sake of expectation management: Be flexible.  If you try to stubborn your way through your deployment, you’re going to lose your mind.

4- Do I need to worry about IDF (indirect fire)?

                A: Worry probably isn’t the right word.  IDF can come at any time, and depending on what post you are located at, you’ll either hear a base-wide warning or some distant thumps.  Accuracy and frequency are all dependent on who is shooting and what they’re trying to hit.  Best advice available is put on your body armor and get low, then get into a bunker if you can.  Otherwise, go about your life.  The caveat to that is to make sure you aren’t blasting your music so loud that you lose situational awareness of the world around you.  Especially in a confined space like your room or shower, keep the noise turned down enough that you can hear any warnings, I promise this may save your life one day.

                Shit, we’re getting hit right now…

5- How will I work out?  Is there a PX?  What about WiFi?

                A: Look, I’ll be brutally honest with you, creature comforts should be the furthest thing from your mind.  You’ll get exercise whether you want it or not.  Expect not to have access to PX, WiFi, tobacco, etc, unless you’re at a major hub.  It’s a deployment, not a vacation.  I highly recommend finding a new hobby or skill that you want to improve and work on that.  Also, despite my love of paperbacks, buy an e-reader and load it up with books.  It takes up less space and it’ll keep you occupied far longer than a movie will.

               

6- What are some of the grossest terms you’ve heard in the military?

                A: Desert Jelly: when someone fires off some knuckle children in the communal showers and the resultant blob just floats along the top of the water waiting to attack some hapless victim’s feet.  Waffling: when someone decides to defecate in the communal showers and then stomps it down the drain.  Yeah, thanks for hanging with me so far.

7- I saw a bowl of condoms at the clinic; people don’t actually have sex on deployment, right?  It’s against GO1.

                A: … Think of it like a less in shape version of the Olympic village.

Honorable mentions:

Where is all the common sense?

Why doesn’t anyone follow the quarantine protocols?

Why is everything so stupid?

What was it about the apple core that set you off?

Some final remarks from our local Medic:

                Be proactive about getting acclimatized.  You’re 5000 feet above sea level so, drink water, eat protein, do cardio for the first month or two while your body learns to produce more red blood cells.  If not, while you’re doing operations in higher elevations, you’ll get altitude sickness.

                Clean your living areas and your asses.  No one is going to clean your rooms for you, you gotta be big boys.  Messes accumulate quickly, so you have to be on top of it.  And no one wants to be the smelly kid.  If there is a smelly kid, address it.  Either he’s suffering from depression, hygiene is the first thing to go, or he’s actually just nasty.  If it’s depression, make sure it’s taken care of.  If he’s nasty, grab a bucket, water, and soap, and make that boy take a bath.  He’ll get the hint after that.

                 Wash your hands.

That’s all from me, take from this what you will.  I’m still in quarantine, so I have to make my own entertainment.  If you have any burning questions about deployment, feel free to ask.

Adventures in Isolation: My 15-day Quarantine in Afghanistan (pt. 1)

As much as I bitch about these dudes at the beginning of this ordeal, after day 3 we hung out constantly and I actually like the fuckers.  Don’t tell them that.  They really have made these past two weeks entertaining and enjoyable.  Well, as enjoyable as it could be under the circumstances.  If any of you strange, filthy, beautiful bastards are reading this, I miss you guys already.

                As it currently stands, I hardly update this when I’m stateside.  Believe it or not (probably not) I am either too distracted, busy, or lazy while at home unless there is a specific request for a topic of discussion (re: Video games). 

                So, now that I find myself, yet again, deep in the beautifully interesting mountains of Afghanistan, what better way to mark the occasion by semi-regular updates.  You know, as worthwhile events and internet access allow.

                Having made that statement, it should be noted that the entirety of this entry is being transcribed from notebook paper, as I have and will not have internet access at time of writing.  Notes are being taken in real time, so the (I’m assuming) alternating nature of misery and hilarity that will no doubt ensue is chronological and unfiltered.  

                First, a quick rundown of how I got to where I’m at right now:

- Over a year ago, I applied to the Afghan Air Force MD-530 Instructor program

-Request accepted

-Classes, courses, study study study

-Pack up house, ready to leave

-10 days prior to leaving, the program is cancelled.

-2 weeks of begging the Pentagon and pissing off my chain of command for another assignment.

-Accepted to a new program.

-Classes, courses, study study study

-House already packed, live in state of perpetual readiness to leave for 7 months

-Losing all of my hard-earned gains post-hernia, due to classes, courses, relatively poor nutrition, and lack of a consistent gym schedule.

-Working

-A slow and steady increase of good mood and general frivolity as I move inexorably away from Ft. Rucker.

                After all that, I finally made it to Kuwait where, following a protracted series of failures and fuckups by the National Guards in charge, I was left Kuwaiting for over a week.

Kuwait was as not fun 15 years ago when I first arrive with THIS gaping asshole.  But that's a story for another time.  Also, I'm disappointed in you for this role, Tom Hanks.

               Yesterday, Day Zero, I arrived in country where we were told to expect a 14-day quarantine due to COVID-19.  As we (myself and Joe, my deployment husband) had no one to report to, and because the quarantine was new and unplanned, we defaulted to our natural state of waiting.  That waiting turned into 24 hours in the passenger terminal discovering new and uncomfortable ways to sleep for 15 minutes at a time. 

               

Who am I kidding, I can't stay mad at Tom.

Day 1: #itcouldbeworse

                We’ve been treated like lepers all day.  Not that I’m discounting the risk posed by COVID-19, but service members are healthy adults.  While the risk of contraction is high, the overall health risk to the particular demographic is practically nonexistent.  Yes, I understand that immuno-compromised, young, and elderly individuals are at serious risk, but those are not the people we’ll be working with for the next year.  Anyway, it sucks.

                So, 14-day quarantine confirmed.  We’ve been moved to an area roughly 50’ x 80’.  Within that area are several 20’ x 20’ x 7’ containers with 8 bunk beds each.  Fortunately, ours only has 8 total people (us included), so not terrible.  I can throw my 135lbs of gear on the empty bunk below (and Joe can throw his 235lbs on his empty bunk.  We both got weighed before getting on the plane).  We can see light through the wall seams, but that just means airflow, right?

               

Mood lighting comes standard.

                Check that, just watched someone walk by.  I can see through the wall seams.  Neat.

                The AC is reliable, and someone is bringing us food soon.  All in all, not too shabby.  13 days to go?  

Can Do.

                …3 hours later… 

                They just moved us into adjacent container in preparation for more incoming soldiers.  There are now 16 of us in here.  Still no food.  The random gallon can of beans and unopened can of RipIt outside feels like some kind of test.  So, this is fun.

Oh, you thought I was kidding.

      Day 2: #itsworse

One erection and it's over.

       Imagine for a moment the overwhelming stench of feet and noise of people that clearly need a sleep study and a CPAP [aggravation or G].  Add onto that the three feet of space between the what can only generously be described as a bed and the ceiling [distance or D].  Factor in a combat zone (though thankfully quiet), some mild PTSD, and waking up to nondescript chatter outside at 0500 [additional angular momentum as I spring out of bed or S] and you get:

F=m^G x a^S/

     The Force of my dome piece smashing in to the lowfucking ceiling equals the mass of my

dome piece to the power of my aggravation of these loud stinky motherfuckers times the acceleration of my upper body to the power of how much faster I’m rising up due to a combination of factors. 

But I’m awake now, so there’s that. 

So are the 60 other people here.  To recap, that’s: 5 toilets; 2 laundry machines (the nifty European types that wash and dry) with untested functionality, though 3 are broken so there’s not a lot of hope for the remaining 2; and 5 showers; for use by 60 soldiers. 

Sponsored by Berg.  "We haven't inspected these things since their manufacture 7 years ago."  And Raid, Shadow Legends.

            What I believe was going to be a humorous romp through two weeks of quarantine, has officially devolved into horseshit.

Noon: Apparently, of the 60 or so troops here with us, almost all of them are some form of Private or another.  And they are all fucking disgusting.  Who just leaves multiple toilets clogged and trash everywhere?  Joe and I had words with some non-commissioned officers about making sure the kids are being adults.  The stank coming out of their berthing containers is ungodly.

1400: Someone drank the RipIt and left the can under a bench.  And, as I’m sitting here writing this, I just noticed a half-eaten apple from this morning and a bunch of garbage lying around.  Laying around?  Damn, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything meaningful that I’ve forgotten important grammar rules.  Oh well, if it’s still there tomorrow, guess who’ll be participating in a Chief mandated area beautification project?

1600: The laundry machines do not work.

2130: The kid sleeping in the bunk under mine is displaying symptoms, I referred him to the medic. 

2300: Whelp, after running a fever of 103.4, he’s been moved into isolation and we scrubbed the absolute bejesus out of our berthing container.  Also, just found out that we are located next to an old Soviet Chromate-6 graveyard, and that dust currently jamming our AC units definitely contains some of that fun.  Bed time, I guess?

Day 3: #legday

No idea where that may have stemmed from.

0630 work call.  I attempted to remain calm, saying things like “I woke up this morning to a clogged toilet full of brown water, so thank you for that.  There are nasty socks and shorts in the shower room, so thank you for that.”  Apparently, however, my trigger is apples, because it escalated quickly, “There is a FUCKING HALF EATEN APPLE BEHIND THE FUCKING CONTAINER FROM YESTERDAY’S FUCKING LUNCH!” 

They were receptive, fortunately and went on their merry way to clean, disinfect, and beautify the area.  Joe and I grabbed a couple of (GI) Joes, and carried several hundred pounds of sandbags to build an ersatz gym, located adjacent to scenic shit’s creek. 

#quarantinegains

Oh, you thought I was kidding? #lungdisease

            0900: Spent the rest of the morning answering questions and assuaging fears about deployments for the new guys.  Should probably study, but still sleepy from last night’s frenetic sanitation activities.  Nap?  Nap.

0925: Nap attempt interrupted by temperature check.  I went last; everyone else got checked rectally, I don’t know why I was the only one that got checked orally.

1100: Thinking about changing my legal name to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy Calise.

1155: Lunch just arrived along with an offer for myself and (not-GI) Joe of private berthing.  Rejected on account of newly built gym and consideration of boredom in a vacuum, not altruism. 

Seriously reconsidering the offer.  And every life decision.

1300: One-ply toilet paper is an abomination before the Gods.  Pray and make appropriate sacrifices for my rectum, even if you hardly knew ‘em. 

1445: First workout in country complete.  Legs!  Jumping!  Squats!  Sprints!  Lunges!  #amIdying #whydomylungshurt #ohgodseverythingisfuzzy #ahweare3000feetabovesealevel #alsodesert #alsocorona

1500: The view from Camp COVID-19 is beautiful and classified, so... this is about the same picture:

Not even kidding.

The Toxicity of the Jedi: How a Tradition of Arrogance, Emotional Ignorance, and Control Made Vader an Inevitability

*Spoilers*

As a lifetime fan of Star Wars, I can honestly say that Darth Vader has never done more for me than look cool and menacing.  In Rogue One, he was at his most awe inspiring in his power.  In the canon he was portrayed as this personification of fear without conveying that fear properly.  Everyone who saw him just gets scared, and we are meant to take that in stride.  

(Marvel Comics)  If you say so, buddy.

However, for the first time ever, I had a genuine “Oh f*ck, run!” moment involving ol’ Orphan Annie. 

(Rogue One) Like I assume the hallway full of troopers did when the light came on.

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order was a fun, occasionally frustrating game.  Glitches and poor mechanics were rage inducing, but overlooked in favor of incredibly beautiful sets and an insightful, moving story.  I digress…

EA Games Pictured: Good game, worst slides ever.

The important part here is that it raises an interesting point about whether the Jedi Order should be rebuilt or not.  Cere (a Jedi Master) says yes, Meren (a Nightsister) says no, and Cal (protagonist, and former Padawan during Order 66) is not so sure.  In the moments building up to a truly terrifying cameo,  the Second Sister (Inquisitor and former Padawan to Cere) redeems herself, explains her anger and feelings of being betrayed, and in doing so, perfectly highlights why the Jedi Order is inherently flawed.

In this essay I will explain, by analyzing the Jedi Code, why Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into Darth Vader was an inevitable conclusion because of the Jedi Path, and that Jedi brought about their own downfall.  Naturally, obvious parallels to toxic masculinity can be drawn throughout as well.

The Code is thus:

One of several thousand just like it.

There is no emotion, there is peace.  This first tenant is without a doubt the most damning indictment of Jedi culture.  Anakin, a six-year-old slave, is taken from his mother; by a Jedi who could have easily used his power to bring both along.  Why would Qui-gon separate a child from the only source of comfort in the galaxy?  Because Qui-gon was completely ignorant of that bond.  Throughout the films, Anakin is constantly told that emotion has no place among the Jedi, that attachment leads to the Dark Side.  Yoda preaches that fear, hate, anger, love, all lead the to the Dark Side.

From the perspective of Yoda, the lack of attachment almost makes sense.  It’s hard to develop meaningful relationships when you live to be 900 years old.  Everyone is transient.  From a culture that is taught from childhood that natural emotions are to be shunned, it only stands to reason that of course no one knows how to deal with fear or hate or anger.  Anakin goes on a killing spree while bereft, and further descends when struck by jealousy.  The Second Sister laments her actions, attempting to rationalize by telling Cere, “I held onto this anger for so long.”  It would be much more difficult to fall to the Dark Side if, instead of telling children don’t be angry, be at peace, they were taught how ubiquitous these feelings are and adequate coping mechanisms. 

(EA Games) And yet, did not mention sand once.  

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” demonstrates a fundamental emotional immaturity and a cyclical lack of empathy that perpetuates within the Order.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.  On the surface, this is a call to scholarship.  At its core, it reveals base arrogance.  There is a scene in Attack of the Clones where Obi-wan attempts to locate a planet, but the librarian tells him, “If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist.”  In Revenge of the Sith, when Yoda and Mace Windu are discussing their difficulties with the Force as an unknown, instead of alerting anyone, they decide to keep the mystery to themselves.  So, in the absence of knowledge, there is only pride, apparently.  They are, in a very real sense, gate-keeping.

(SW: AotC) To be fair, that may just be a librarian being a librarian. 

There is no passion, there is serenity.  Creativity is bred of passion.  Serenity is acceptance of the status quo.  Stifling creativity and indoctrinating children into serenity keeps traditions alive.  This also furthers the idea that having passion about anything, intermixed with any emotion, will set one off the path.  You cannot create, you cannot love, and if you do either, the Jedi have no way of preventing you from taking them to extremes.  Good luck, Anakin.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.  The natural order of the universe is chaos.  The natural state of children is chaotic.  So, what better way to exert dominance over an uncaring universe than by imparting upon it the illusion of control.  In any toxic culture, there is an element of control, be it subtle or salient, control is how toxicity maintains itself.  Furthermore, teaching children from the outset that the universe can be bent to their will, by using their own subservience as an example, is sowing the seeds for future evil.

There is no death, there is the force.  While the most innocuous, this tenant is still subtly awful.  There is no death, you will live on forever in the force, so go out and treat everyone you meet with that same expendability.  Not only does it bestow false hope if, say, Anakin were to lose his mother, but life to a Jedi has no meaning if they can keep on living after they shuffle off their moral coil.  Not everyone gets to become a blue Force ghost, or a helpful whisper in a trench, death for most of the galaxy means death.  This is a strange kind of religious zealotry that lends itself to the purging, hateful apostasy only Darth Vader can bring.

(SW: AotC) "So, my mom's with the force now, right? What about the village I slaughtered?  NBD, amirite?"

While the Code, the Order, or the Culture in no way excuse Anakin Skywalker, they do provide a recognizable baseline for understanding his actions.  While it is important to remember that regardless of one’s upbringing, they are responsible for their own choices, it should be noted that the Jedi are equally responsible for their own destruction.

-1000 word essay?  Not gonna lie, this was actually kinda fun.