The acronym “SOP” in business circles stands for “Standard Operating Procedures”
Here, I feel it stands for something different… Way different.
It is more synonymous with “SNAFU” – “Situation Normal – All #ucked Up”.
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Think about it.
Obama made a grave error. He drew a line in the sand.
Then when Syrian forces first crossed it, he hemmed and hawed… Said he needed definitive proof. (Apparently, many dead animals were insufficient, at least visually.) He erased that line in the sand.
Then Syrian forces struck again.
He made another grave error in this fiasco. He, as Commander in Chief, could have just ordered the raid… Like Ronnie did against Libya and Qaddafi. (I loved it when Ronnie called Qaddafi a “flake”.)
But no… He stepped up to the microphone at the Presidential podium again and now wanted “conclusive proof” (not that pictures of more dead animals in addition to the bodies were sufficient) BEFORE ordering a strike. PLUS Congressional approval.
What was he thinking? It was like a quarterback shouting audibles in plain English.
But somebody saved his azz.
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Yes, there were several more missteps by Obama…
But the worst one? It was bad enough Obama was making foreign policy decisions.
Now, Obama handed our country’s foreign policy-making powers to Vladimir Putin.
Army Officer Matt Zeller stands alongside Janis Shinwari, an Afghan interpreter. Janis, code named Hafez, has been hiding from the Taliban since the deadly 2008 firefight. (Photo credit: Matt Zeller/Change.org)
Finally!!!
The Administration of the United States of America is FINALLY allowing the TRACKABLE, AUTHORIZED AND OTHERWISE TO BE “UN”-MEDIA-IZED immigration of ONE Afghan: a brave interpreter code named Hafez! Please see my earlier story on this topic: “Afghans Cannot Scale a Fence,”
Unbelievable. The Administration continues to allow illegals to scale the fence at our border yet dragged their feet in approving this one Afghan to legally enter the US. He fought bravely alongside Army Officer Matt Zeller and saved his life. MOH recipient Sgt. Dakota Meyer joined the drive to petition for his immigration. Do you see any illegal fighting alongside our military or willing to give their life to save one?
Here is the official news release on FOX. I hope CNN will publicize this great humanitarian event as much as they did the Trayvon Martin incident.
What remains of the cemetery out in the middle of nowhere.
It wasn’t the deadly black sand that greeted the US Marines on Iwo Jima.
But as we stood on out on the desert, white powdery dust would swirl up in the softly blowing arid wind… and I then realized it was upon this gawd-awful sand that my Aunt Shiz and Uncle John built their future for their family.
It was their Iwo Jima… It was called the “Manzanar War Relocation Center” by our government back during World War II.
They were forced onto these forsaken sands by FDR in April of 1942 but made the most of it. Quietly. 仕方が無い… 我慢. Shikataganai and gaman.
FDR called it relocation centers.
It’s just my opinion but political correctness be damned.
It was a prison. Complete with eight guard towers and soldiers manning .30 caliber Browning machine guns. Barbed wire fencing all around. No freedoms. Chow at specific times. Public toilets and showers. No running water in your “cell”. No cars. No soda jerks. You were classified as “Enemy Alien” even though you said your Pledge of Allegiance or were a Boy Scout.
There were ten well known ones like Manzanar. But quite a number of smaller or special purpose prisons were scattered about the US – some of which have been long forgotten. But one thing in common was they held Americans incarcerated just because they looked Japanese. Not one was ever convicted of spying for Japan.
Pictured: Aunt Shiz and my four cousins. There was no notation other than the date but if I were to take a wild guess, this may have been taken as they left Manzanar the second prison they were moved to: Tule Lake. I base it upon the barrenness of the area surrounding them. (Edit 9/27/2013)
I had never been to Manzanar. However, since Aunt Shiz passed away at the age of 95 last year at this time, I heard a call to visit. So my friend and I decided to make the 500 mile+ round trip the Friday before Labor Day weekend. It was time to go.
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Manzanar back in 1942 was an isolated, desolate desert wilderness. Hell, it still is for the most part. The 2010 Census only reported about 2,000 residents; imagine how uninhabited it may have been seventy years ago. Temperatures soar to over 110F in the summer and plummet to the 20’s in the winter. It was exactly 100F and humid when we arrived that Friday. It lies between Lone Pine and Independence on US 395.
The lonely Lone Pine train station, perhaps the 1930’s?
If you haven’t heard of these prison camps during WWII, FDR signed Executive Order 9066 (There’s those danged Executive Orders again!) ordering Japanese (Issei) and Japanese-Americans (Nisei) to evacuate from the West Coast of the United States. The FBI and the US Army were there to ensure they left. These families could only take what they could carry with many everyday items prohibited. Knives, guns, tools…and cameras because they were looked upon as the enemy.
Many family heirloom photos and letters were burned or tossed. Favorite dolls. Bicycles. Silverware. Dishes. All gone.
Here are some official US Government photos (except for my color one) from that period; please note many of these were taken by the Government and were meant to appease the public:
American workers putting together the shoddily built barracks. They only had tar paper on the outside to keep out the elements. Big gaps existed between the boards – walls or floor boards.My two littlest kids and a friend stand in front of an actual barrack from a WWII prison camp. Notice the tar paper remnants and the gaps between the wooden planks. Families actually were forced to live in these shacks.Japanese Americans were loaded onto buses or railroad cars under armed guard to be transported to the prison camps. This April 1942 photo was taken in “Little Tokyo”, an area in Downtown, Los Angeles.Japanese-Americans disembark from the railroad cars at Lone Pine, CA and are now waiting for buses to take them to their new “homes” at Manzanar. My aunt’s family may just be in the photograph.Boarding buses headed to Manzanar under guard. The US Army soldier should be concerned someone would grab his holstered .45 ACP. After all, he was amongst the “enemy” as FDR determined.A new family brings in their worldly belongings into Manzanar. Notice the dust being blown up around them. Both Aunt Shiz and my dad talked about how everything in their assigned barracks would be covered with dust…down to their Army issue mattresses and sheets. Imagine that for days on end.Arrivees at Manzanar. Note the ID tag on the evacuee at left. Everyone got one…even babies.Mess Hall chow line. You ate here whether or not it was freezing or scorching outside.
As general information, a relative said the latrines were so cramped that you almost touched each other while sitting on the toilet and that there weren’t any stalls. Just holes when the first arrivees showed up or after toilets were finally installed a little later. It was hot and stuffy inside with the stench and flies unbearable. They had to wait in line to use the latrines, take a shower or eat.
During the war, Manzanar internee Pfc Sadao Munemori – through his brave actions on the battlefield – was bestowed the Congressional Medal of Honor…posthumously. (Twenty-one Japanese-American soldiers were bestowed the Medal of Honor.)
Interestingly, two-thirds of the Japanese Americans interned at Manzanar were under the age of 18 per the National Park Service. There were 541 babies born at Manzanar; my cousin Roy was one of them. (Another cousin, Neil, was born in Tule Lake, CA while his older brother Bobby perished at another camp at six years of age.)
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It is still difficult to believe all of my stateside relatives of that time – all American citizens – were subjected to the degrading treatment depicted above. But I think my Aunt Shiz had the toughest experience raising four children – with one born in camp.
As we walked through the museum, I perspired profusely even though it had a cooling system. While my friend was intently reading a number of exhibits, I tried to occupy my mind with other thoughts; I still didn’t know how I would react to being here.
Then, I saw several faces in photographs lining a hallway honoring Toyo Miyatake. I had often seen them in my youth walking about Little Tokyo or at the temple (I am Buddhist.). The familiar faces somehow made me “feel at home” or secure in a way.
Standing is Hisao Kimura, the father of my good friend Sadao. They founded Kimura Photomart where I worked in Little Tokyo. Toyo Miyatake (seated at left) frequently came to Kimura Photomart to sit on a stool after retiring. Toyo’s son, Archie, is on his right. Please click on this link to learn more of the Miyatake heritage and connection to my family. Toyo Miyatake
Here are some other snapshots taken during the visit:
My friend intently read the information on the exhibits during our brief visit. I feel she learned “stuff” that is not in our textbooks. I was happy she took interest.At the very bottom left of the camp model, you will see a “greener” area. It housed the US Military as well as administrative staff. These barracks were more thoroughly constructed with running water and toilets.This is one bit of information that can be drawn up to the CPU. However, I am at a loss when it shows that Aunt Shiz was moved to Tule Lake.My friend appears to have a solemn look on her face while looking at the prison camp’s layout. Over 11,000 men, women, children and babies were made prisoners and incarcerated at Manzanar – all civilians.Our good friend Toyo Miyatake, who had illegally snuck in a lens, fashioned a self-made camera around it to take historical pictures from inside the camp. However, photography had been forbidden. For a more complete history on Toyo Miyatake, please click on this link: Toyo’s Camera.A recreated barrack stands alone on the desert sand beneath spectacular clouds. These recreations were MUCH better made than the original barracks as the National Park Service had to build these to Code. They even had fire alarms and exit signs. 🙂Inside of one of the re-created barracks. According to the National Park Service website, “Any combination of eight individuals was allotted a 20-by-25-foot room. An oil stove, a single hanging light bulb, cots, blankets, and mattresses filled with straw were the only furnishings provided.”The backside of the memorial at the Manzanar cemetery. I would not have appreciated being buried in such a desert to be forgotten. On the other hand, many of those killed in action were never found as well.The slightly humid desert wind blows through my friend’s hair as we stand by the memorial erected in 1943 marking the cemetery.
Lastly, a recreation of a tag each individual had clipped on his/her person to be incarcerated. While the Nazis tatoo’d ID numbers INTO the flesh of Jews, this tag served essentially the same purpose. This one reflects Toyo Miyatake:
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We walked on the same sand that Aunt Shiz, Uncle John, Hiroshi, Bessie, Shozo and Roy walked on for 3-1/2 years. We experienced the heat, although it was but 100F when we arrived there and partly cloudy. The dust that got kicked up by the warm gusts did swirl around a bit as Aunt Shiz described. My Subaru Outback was coated with that fine dust. It was almost like the powder law enforcement uses to bring out latent fingerprints. And perhaps it is TMI, but I did step inside a modern “port-a-potty” set up out in the desert. Believe me… it was hot and stuffy in there. That will suffice. But I think that they all endured that for all those years… Unbelievable.
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As we drove home, my friend asked me how I felt. I had mentioned to her I might shed a tear or two (from the dust, of course, as real men don’t cry) before we went. After pondering her question, I answered, “Elated.”
Bizarre answer? Perhaps. But I was elated I got to slightly experience what they all did 70 years ago. No, I did not have to sleep on straw mattresses in stifling cramped rooms nor eat prison-grade quality food at the beginning of incarceration. Nor line up for chow or to take a shower… Nor have to fear .30 caliber Browning machine guns pointed at me…
But I did finally see that my aunt and uncle built their future upon what they had lost – and what they learned to be important for family – on these white sands of Manzanar.
But since English is my second language, I can use it out of naivete.
And I feel it means “internal spirit” or “internal push to do something”…
Like “Man, it took a lot of spunk to work like that.”
Of course, I understand it can refer to something else… You know, foreigners learn bad words first.
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So why bring up this word? Are you afraid of getting spunked?
Well, America now has 478 million people that need to be spunkified. That’s 478,000,000, folks.
Why?
All of these 478 million people are on food stamps. That’s a lot of missing spunk.
Original food stamps.
I don’t know how many of them are citizens or have green cards or are “undocumented”.
Of course, there’s a number of the 478,000,000 folks just down on their luck… But for the most part, the remainder have no spunk.
That’s how they live day to day. On food stamps. That the people WITH spunk for the most part are paying for.
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Did you think 478 million was a big number? Well, how about 78 billion… That’s in dollars. $78,000,000,000. Three more zeros than 478,000,000.
That’s how much this food stamp program is costing us.
That’s how much of us “with spunk” are losing out of our paychecks.
Would you like to hear something more sickening?
$3,000,000,000 – three BILLION dollars – of that $78,000,000,000 is spent on ADMINISTRATION. To me, that is plain sick. Stupidity. Unnecessary staff to meet stupid legalities.
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Obama said at the beginning that he believes food stamps is an economic stimulant.
Bull pucky.
The food stamp program started in 1939. We were in the Depression. People were hungry and crops and food stuffs were stockpiling on the farmlands.
One of the original food stamps poster. Circa 1939
So FDR came to a startling and brilliant idea – let’s give out free money to those that are hungry. It’s free to them as working people had taxes taken from their pay. Then the hungry can then buy the food stuffs stockpiling on our farms! Win-Win-(Lose)!
Well, thank goodness, World War II began. The Depression ended with the American will power to… work. The food stamp program – which was experimental – officially ended in 1943. About 4 million Americans received assistance in those four years.
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Well… Guess what JFK did in his first day in office in 1960.
Yup. He signed an Executive Order. (The same type of directive that put my father into those prison camps during WWII. I hate those suckers.)
This Executive Order reinstated the food stamp program. After, it was one of his campaign promises.
…And that’s all she wrote. Now, one out of seven six Americans are on food stamps (called the SNAP program now).
1 out of 76.
And you know what? It is true. You can live a better life with food stamps and NOT working. You even get free health benefits!
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To some, this post will cause irritation if not anger. For others, they are irritated or angry. They are angry because the country’s majority has voted for this, in one way, shape or form… This minority of voters didn’t believe in an endless entitlement mentality…nor want it.
Indeed, a heckuva a people need to get spunkified.
Face it. Our country is clearly headed in the wrong direction. We are even furloughing our military.
Damn the lawyers and damn the minority rights activists. It has moved too far towards the extreme in the past six years.
Make it hard to get free food. Make them work for it.
This needs to be stopped…
(ps This is just an opinion. There is no right or wrong. There is no intent to rile anybody and all constructive comments will be appreciated.)
The White House as it looked when President Adams occupied it. whitehousehistory.org
Mr. President, I take exception to your leadership. I feel it is flawed.
You are supposed to be MY president.
My fellow Mustang buddy’s president. He’s Black and has a doctorate. Oh. He’s married to a Middle Eastern lady – who screams while sitting shotgun in his grossly overpowered car.
My neighbor’s president. He’s Hispanic, an American citizen and is in the USAF (and who got his pay cut due to The (Dumb) Sequester.)
My blogging friend’s president. She is Irish with blazing red hair.
Yes, even #41 and #43’s president. They are Caucasian and BOTH served in the Armed Forces. Hell, #41 was shot down and lost his two crew members. Like Old Man Jack, even he must’ve had nightmares for the rest of his life.
You are the elected person to represent ALL of us…together.
But do you?
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Yes, I voted for the other guy. Glad that’s out in the open. Whew. Now hate me.
But all through your campaigns and years in office, you have made it a point to distinguish (imply?) yourself to be Black…and rarely or never infer that you are “White”.
How can that be, Mr. President? Your mother was White. Your father was Black.
To me, that’s 50%-50%.
President Obama’s parents
It’s simple math. The same simple math taught in school. Well, pardon me. Not too many folks recall seeing you in class.
Perhaps you ditched classes, Mr. President, just like my angelic oldest daughter..? But my oldest daughter got straight A’s. I’ll let you see her report card if you’ll show me your transcripts.
So I excuse you on your mathematical error.
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Trayvon Martin died on February 26, 2012.
On March 23, 2012, you said on national TV:
“But my main message is to the parents of Trayvon Martin. If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon. And I think they are right to expect that all of us as Americans are going to take this with the seriousness it deserves, and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.” (Note: President Obama, the LOCAL authorities and DA DID get to the bottom of exactly what happened shortly after the shooting, right?)
After the verdict was read, you made another statement. On July 20, 2013, you said:
“When Trayvon Martin was first shot, I said that this could have been my son,” Obama said. “Another way of saying that is Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.”
First speech mentioning Trayvon Martin.
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The Zimmerman/Martin fight took place in a smaller township called Sanford, FL. The local – LOCAL – authorities concluded there was not enough evidence to hold or charge Zimmerman under their STATE laws.
But alas… The MEDIA was a huge contributor. In my opinion, it was primarily CNN who started a fire where there should have been none. Day after day, they tried to “stir the pot”, as they say. RACE came into the limelight thanks to CNN fueling the self-grown fire.
Then Obama’s ill-advised comment… RACE again. He’s HALF-WHITE.
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Race is one thing contributing to the deepening divide amongst our citizens.
In his first speech, he fueled the frenzy with those words, “…and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”
Who is “we’re”? Him? The Feds? It fell under state and LOCAL jurisdiction. And the local law enforcement and DA – closest to the case and evidence – had closed its case.
Obama and CNN was pouring copious amounts of salt onto a festering wound.
By the way… How does CNN pick which murder to sensationalize? Why didn’t CNN sensationalize this more recent one – of four Blacks killing an unarmed White college student:
I am curious why you did not come out in front of our nation and say, “If I had a son, he’d look like Joshua Proutey.”
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In closing, how DARE Obama distinguish himself from me implying Trayvon Martin could have been his son – for whatever reason – in front of our country.
You are supposed to be MY president.
You are to lead us… represent all of us… and not imply “favoring” one race over another.
How do you bring this together instead of dividing it?
Simple. Like this:
THIS is how YOU should lead OUR country, Mr. Obama. (White House Archives)
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Face it. There are racists.
White people who hate other races. Blacks who hate other races. Asians who hate other races.
Lead us. Tell us citizens to quell this lunacy…and get off the minority soap box at the same time.
ps PLEASE PAY MY USAF BUDDY. HE IS IN HARM’S WAY AND WORKING TO PROTECT US. HE IS NOT HOLDING HIS HAND OUT LIKE 47 MILLION OTHERS ARE.
Not to bore anyone but a few of you readees may recall my dad abd older siblings were in essentially peison camps during WWII just for looking like the enemy.
Well, researchers found another prison almost forgotten due to obscurity. This prison camp was not far from Spokane.
While the prisoners were paid up ti $60 a month, they did build many mikes of road.
History is what we make of it.
But blogs like ours are sure better than the misguided media.
A few of you know I’ve been in a little bit of “funk” the past month or so…
No real reason… just things.
But I had a GREAT Father’s Day! So a belated and short post.
It started out with seeing my “second” dad – Old Man Jack. I last visited Jack on Memorial Day… but it was a bit saddening to see that his only daughter hadn’t been by.
It’s always good to see him – although I didn’t stop by in my LOUD supercharged Mustang he loved so much.
Of course, you can only have one dad… and mine’s 94. We had a Father’s Day Brunch at his assisted living center and his luckily, his appetite was back. We enjoyed a special Father’s Day brunch. Meat and potatoes! His fave!
He then finished off his lunch with…sweets! Man, he’s got a sweet tooth! These were Japanese candies sent to him from my cousin Masako (and Izumi) in Hiroshima. (He had four. lol)
Does he look content? LOL
And someone “special” had called… and wanted to give me a Father’s Day hug! Ou-la-la! She is a gal with one of the sweetest souls around…and she shall remain nameless. 🙂
She’s had a positive impact on me. 🙂
And then… the grand finale…
I headed up from Fashion Island in Newport Beach to Pomona…My oldest son, Takeshi……graduated from Cal Poly Pomona! He’s even got a straight A streak going! And he BEAT his brilliant sister in Organic Chemistry by getting an A! She will never hear the end of that one… 🙂
Congratulations, son! And a BIG thanks to my ex and his step-dad. I couldn’t ask for a better guy.
I don’t think an old man can ask for anything greater than that superific day!
Marge and I at Riverside National Cemetery, Memorial Day Weekend 2013
A LETTER…
[Please also see “Mr. Johnson, USMC” if you wish to learn the background of this couple from the Greatest Generation by clicking on the link.]
Dear Marge,
Well, Marge, you made it indeed… To see your beloved husband Johnnie for Memorial Day.
A heroic US Marine who fought on-board the USS Enterprise in World War II.
Decorated.
And he was but 17 years old when he set sail for the Battle of Midway.
Seventeen. You said he was still in high school when he signed up for the Marines. Unbelievable.
We were met by thousands of American flags being planted by hundreds of Boy Scouts and volunteers. You were so happy to see the red, white and blue saturating the cemetery, bit by bit.
While the Boy Scouts hadn’t made it to your husband’s resting place yet, we had our own little flag… and your beautiful bouquet we were able to pick up along the way. You were so pleased with them but we made it a promise the next bouquet will be the colors of the USMC – scarlett and gold. You knew he would like that. Yes you did.
It was only the Saturday before Memorial Day but you were so elated to see how many people were there already…and we arrived at 10:00 AM! You were worried we wouldn’t be able to find a place to park when someone upstairs opened one up for us.
You were so anxious to visit him that you made it out of my car in record time and walked as quickly as you could!
While you used your stroller to get to the general area of his grave site, we had to leave the stroller and walk the last twenty yards on very saturated ground. You were holding onto my arm so tightly as the muddy earth gave way as we walked. Remember? My shoe sunk into the soil and inch or more.
And when we got there, we couldn’t find any water decanters… They were all being used by the hundreds of other mourners…but by some lucky grace, we ran into Vicky… She had bought 1,000 beautiful flags on her own and her niece was placing them neatly all along the columbine. She went out of her way to find one for you!
Vicki and her niece holding another bunch of the 1,000 flags she had bought to place along the columbine.Some of the 1,000 flags purchased by Vicki and placed by her niece for our fallen.
Your bouquet was so beautiful, Marge. You said quietly Johnnie – your husband of 66-1/2 years – would like them so much. You miss him dearly, don’t you Marge? I miss him…
And like the last time, on Easter Sunday, you talked with him…
She is talking to Johnnie… True love and devotion…
You shared with me again of how he left your life…and you were there for him til the very end… and how alone you felt because you are the last one alive from amongst your friends. There is no one else. You said you still look for Johnnie at your assisted senior care center to ask him a question but he doesn’t answer…
Thriving love…
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We promised to go back in two months, yes?
I will be calling you because he means so much to you… and it means so much to me.
I wish people would understand your love and devotion.
Marge and Mr. Johnson on their wedding day in June 1945.
Then Syrian forces struck again.
Masako and Spam Musubi 