Hingham, MA, day sixteen, part I

Or, “The relocation from Atlanta to Cambridge culture shock edition“:


As Glenn noted over the weekend, when another leftwing Massachusetts woman was triggered by signage involving the name of a Civil War hero, “It would be easy to write an argument for restoring the patriarchy based solely on feminists’ statements about how weak, fragile, and stupid women are.”

Seriously?  My God, I’m surrounded by these women at work daily (the staff on the project I’m working on is 90% female, most of them born and raised in New England – Guys like me, who do the dirty work of test firing weapons in 11-degree Fahrenheit weather, are the minority).  Hell, when I brought in just the marksmanship related awards, certificates, and photos from my “I love me” wall to hang in my office, I was interrupted and told those items were “inappropriate for the workplace”, and “potentially offensive to the female staff”, and instructed to remove them.

Hired because of my marksmanship skills just as much as for my analytical and software development project management skills, I’m nevertheless forbidden to display my qualifications in my office (with the exception of my sheepskin from the Senior Military College I took my undergrad degree from and my sheepskin from the College I took a second undergrad degree from after leaving active duty – And I’m certain they only let me hang those so that the females on the team, with their sheepskins from Harvard and MIT can chortle to each other about my sub-par education.  Heaven only knows what they’d say about me if they knew I’m a product of the Killeen, Texas Independent School System as well…).

This isn’t feminism.  This is all-out war on men, and the consequences of returning fire when fired upon are losing one’s job.

And I thought those poor soldiers’ rules of engagement in Iraq and Afghanistan were a travesty.

It’s 0350 hours here in Massachusetts, I woke up forty minutes ago and can’t get back to sleep – A common affliction among those of us who often functioned for months at a time with little or no sleep and nothing but the berries and small game we could gather silently to eat – And when I say “functioned”, I mean doing things that we’ll never be able to forget.  These days, I don’t have to worry about running out of ammo, or being captured or killed…but I’ll be damned if I don’t still feel like I’m at war.

Sigh.  Were it not for the mortgage and the bride, I’d do as so many of my Brothers have done…gin up a case for disability and buy a piece of land in the Blue Ridge mountains, build a cabin, and spend the remainder of my days hiking, fishing, and hunting.  Alas, I have a family to support, and my army pension doesn’t near suffice to doing so in the manner to which they have become accustomed (and deserve).

Well, embracing the suck is nothing new – I’m wide awake, I suppose I’ll go for a run in this weather:


Then hit the gym for a grueling chest / back workout.  That should be enough to settle my mind, get my temper under control, and assume the mask of compliance and normality before commuting into Cambridge for work.

You all have a good one.  Out here.


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