That TV is Shot

A few years ago, our TV went on the “blink” as my father used to say. It just stopped working. It was only 14 months old and the warrantee had expired. I never buy supplementary protection plans. Once, I was offered a two year extension on the warrantee on a $99 toaster for the bargain price of $25. I passed. After five years, the toaster is still going strong. Not my TV though. It’s “shot” to use more of my father's vernacular.

A call to the Samsung customer support led me to believe a simple external connection hub, called a "One Connect," was the culprit. I bought a new one for $100. Now I couldn’t care less about TV. I rarely watch it unless there's a new Naked and Afraid or, American Chopper reboot. I just love watching the Teutuls yell at each other. Apart from being the visual component to a game console, television doesn’t offer much in the way of entertainment. In fact, I think it causes Alzheimers.

The new connect component didn’t fix the set so I took the TV off the wall and pried open the backing in search of blown capacitors, a common problem that plagued Samsung TVs in the past. Since nothing seemed fried, I called in the big guns in the form of a congenial repair dude, named "Tim," who was originally from Georgia.

TV With Back Removed

Now that my TV shat the futon, the person in my family most affected was my sister, Jeannine. It’s not like “Aunt Jeannine” as my kids call her because, well, that’s who she is to them, lives with us or anything. She’s also not much older than me so get that image out of your mind of an old lady sitting in a rocking chair, covered by a knitted blanket, shaking a defunct remote control at a blank TV screen while yelling for more canned pears. The reason my TV being jacked affected my sister most of all was because she’s my PubG partner.

Now, Player Unknown Battlegrounds, PubG for short, is a first person survival game which we team play over the internet. The goal of PubG is to parachute into a region of Russia with a hundred other people, loot weapons, then try to kill everyone else. The last one standing wins a chicken dinner as the game displays,

“Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!”

I haven’t been able to achieve chicken dinner status as of yet although Aunt Jeannine has twice. It’s not likely I’ll ever win in PubG because I can’t shoot for beans, and I occasionally can’t get my avatar through a doorway. In gaming terms, I’m what is called a "noob," that is a newbie. The last video game I played required a quarter so I’m also a noob to the Xbox and associated controller as well.

My sister and I played together most of our childhood. We’re close in age and similar in many ways. Anything good which I can recall about my youth always involved her. I think she wants to team with me when playing PubG because it reminds her of when we played with Hot Wheels or Lincoln Logs together as kids. It’s certainly not for any of my stellar gaming skills.

After replacing most of the circuit boards, Tim determined that it was probably the panel which is too expensive to fix. Reluctantly, I took the TV to the dump. While this was going on over several weeks, my sister was experiencing gamer's withdrawal as she refused to play PubG without her bro. Her text messages reflected a growing anguish over the many delays.

First Week

Second Week

Third Week


When my wife, Christine, got involved, she researched the television I picked out only to conclude that the "900F" version was better than the "850E." Of course, it is. It's fifty and one letter better.

"The 900F is superior at rendering black tones," she declared.

I'm not sure why rendering black is all the rage with flat panel TVs. I thought rendering color was the big thing, but apparently handling the absence of light is the cutting edge of flat screen technology. Upgrading to the more advanced set cost another $800, plus a bit longer wait since the new fancier TV is back ordered until July. Our youngest, Willy, didn't want to see the TV discarded.

"I was raised on that TV," he sobbed.

One Way Trip

But he made the best of it.

Time to Create

 And off to the dump.

Goodbye, Ole Friend

Here is some of William's screen art,

TV Graffiti

My sister took the delay reasonably in stride. I'm confident the bigger, better, 900F TV will improve my gaming skills when I return to PubG. If not, there's always Monsters Inside Me.

Editor's Note: Originally published on June 12, 2018.

Scientists Discover a New Shape

The Scutoid

First off, I didn’t even know that anyone was looking for new shapes. I guess I’m glad that research in the field of spacial geometry is still being conducted. I, for one, thought everything that there was to know about geometric shapes had already been discovered decades ago. Now, the rhombus has to move aside like Pluto as it relinquishes its position as the least understood geometric figure, making room for the "scutoid."

Scientists from the University of Seville discovered the new form in nature. The results were published in the peer-reviewed journal, Nature Communications. The new shape was described as having a specific curve and didn’t look like any known mathematical figure. The researchers observed the structure in fruit flies and zebrafish. While the rest of us were filing off to our boring, mundane jobs, scientists were pushing the envelope of knowledge by looking for undiscovered shapes in insects and fish.

The scutoid, named for a structure found in the thorax of beetles, is five sided on one end and six sided on the other. It’s basically a hexagon and a pentagon smashed together. Euclid described many of the basic shapes like the circle in his seminal work, Elements, a 13 volume treatise written in 300 BC. The circle is believed to be known before recorded history because it’s so common. The moon, the wheel, coins. Other shapes like the parallelogram and rhombus are harder to find in nature. It’s no wonder it took scientists so many years to find the elusive scutoid because who would have thought to look between the neck and abdomen of a bug?

There are a lot of complex shapes which one might be unfamiliar with like the frustum, which is the lower part of a pyramid, or the rhombicosidodecahedron which has 20 triangular faces, 30 square faces, 12 regular pentagonal faces, 60 vertices, and 120 edges. Many of these shapes are found in the natural world, the cosmos, microbiology and the ass of a goat. Now that the scutoid has been discovered, scientists are pretty sure there are no more new shapes out there. How do they know? Because the only place scientists haven't searched is a stink beetle's colon.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on August 7, 2018.

Gettys-burger

In the summer of 2018, we were in Pennsylvania at Gettysburg. My son was playing Taps at the Soldiers' National Monument, centrally located in the Gettysburg National Cemetery. The event was part of 100 Nights of Taps, an annual event created by a retired United States Air Force Non-Commissioned Officer, Jari Villanueva. Considered the country’s foremost expert on military bugle calls, Villanueva spent 23 years with the United States Air Force Band.

I haven't been to Gettysburg in over a decade. The first thing I noticed was the many signs denying entry to pets, most notably dogs. While all battlegrounds sites required canines to be on leashes, the cemetery didn't allow them at all. This is unlike solemn, historical sites in New England which are often employed as toilets by dog owners who routinely turn their pooches loose to do their business. There's nothing like going to hallowed ground so Dinkles the Dog can pinch butt truffles.

I also like how everything in our country is monetized. The fast food industry is usually the first to appropriate a local historical event into their menu. While at Gettysburg I ate a buckshot burger with a side of emancipation proclamation fries. In Concord, Massachusetts I once ordered a Paul Revere panini.

Wandering around the battlegrounds, I heard the comments from many tourists. Now I know that most Americans are incapable of passing a citizen's test. Only one in a thousand can identify all five first amendment rights (freedom of religion, speech, press, association, and the ability to petition the government), but one in four can name all of the Simpsons, (Homer, Marge, Lisa, Bart and Maggie). A recent poll determined that one in five Americans could not find America on a map of America. There's an old joke my father used to say that war was invented to teach Americans geography.

Here are some of the questions asked of our tour guide while at Gettysburg.

1. What exactly happened here?
2. Is this where Ben Franklin discovered electricity?
3. What side was the Nazis on, the North or the South?
4. Did Paul Revere lead Pickett's charge?
5. Was John Quincy Adams a county medical examiner?

This is the video of my son sounding Taps at Gettysburg, and for the record the Nazis were neutral during the Civil War.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on July 28, 2018.

Are You Sexy?

Recently, I was in the waiting room in my dentist's office with my wife, Christine, while our youngest was in for a cleaning. As I perused the magazines on the table next to a display about gingivitis, I honed in on a woman's fitness periodical which sported a cover with a smart looking, smiling, thirty something woman, power walking in yoga pants while swinging weights in each hand. The long list of articles were primarily for women as in Get Slim & Feel Strong, or 20 Best-Ever Haircuts, and Should You Steam Your Vagina?

Initially, the latter captured my attention, but as it took ten minutes to find the table of contents, which didn't help anyway because of the blocks of unnumbered pages dedicated to advertisements. I gave up on trying to find the article when I came across a quiz entitled, Are You Sexy? Even though the survey was written for women, I decided to take the test anyway because, theoretically, it shouldn't matter because we're the same or something. The first question asked,

What is the average amount of time you spend engaged in a kiss?

I never really timed it, but I surmised probably a second or two. I looked up the answer which indicated that the longer you spend in a smooch, the sexier you are. They recommended nothing shorter than ten seconds. Armed with this information, I leaned over to my wife, bent on kissing her for the requisite amount of time. Midway though our sexy extended kiss, she said with her lips still locked on mine,

"What are you doing?"

"A sexy kiss," I answered.

"This is sexy?”

"It says right here that long kisses are sexy."

"Oh. I thought you had a stroke or something."

That went so well, I dove back into the survey.

Do you experiment in the bedroom?

I definitely do this one. I'm into the scientific method. Once my son and I built a volcano for a middle school science fair. I checked the answer key. More points for me! Eager to be even more sexy, I forged ahead,

Have you ever taken part in a ménage à trois?

I had to look this one up because even though I took twelve years of French in Catholic school, I really can't actually speak the language unless some French person was in need of someone to conjugate the verb "to go." The literal translation of ménage à trois is "household for three." I was disappointed when I looked up the answer. Apparently they were asking if I ever had sex with two people at once which made no sense to me since last I checked I have only one penis. Moving on,

Have you ever filmed yourself and your partner?

Yes! I filmed us at the beach, on vacation, during family gatherings. For some reason, I got a lot of points for video recording my wife and me. They hinted that a video while on an airplane is very sexy. They said that it's proof that we're in what I think is a recreational pot smoking group called, the Mild High Club.

What is your favorite go to screwvenir?

This was a hard one. I had to Google what a "screwvenir" is which is "anything that you keep (whether stolen or given to you) from someone's house after you've slept with them." The answer key gave points for shirts and underwear and deducted points for body parts. I got nothing since I don't have any screwvenirs, but I did keep the cork from first bottle of wine Christine and I had together.

Have you ever had sex with a woman?

Big points for this one. Having two kids years apart proves that I had sex with a woman at least twice, but I can tell you for sure, it was more than that. Way more. Like twice that.

How many different positions have you tried?

I worked for a few tech companies. All in all, I answered "at least five," which got me some points. Apparently, if I worked for more companies I would've been more sexy. Moving ahead,

How many partners have you had?

I didn't do so well here. I've never worked for a law firm so I've never had partners. The next question was likely a Hipaa Violation.

How often do you engage in anal penetration?

I answered once every five years unless they find something. I didn't get any points as that was too infrequent. Moving on,

Who is your celebrity crush?

A celebrity crush is the person who if you slept with your spouse would give you a pass. It was important for me to pick someone Christine would like otherwise a pass would never be forthcoming. Christine is sure that she and Jennifer Lawrence would be best friends. She's really not my type and a bit too young for me. I decided to play it safe and put down "Betty White." She's 99, but I’ll bet she's dynamite in the sack.

Tallying up my score, I got a 27 out of 100 which according to the key means I'm "not very sexy." Furthermore, my score came with the advice that I "should consider spicing things up more." They also advised that "I should perhaps venture outside of my comfort zone." I don't get it. Holding my breadth every time I kiss my wife while constantly coming up with new experiments all while convincing my doctor that I need yet another colonoscopy certainly places me well outside my comfort zone.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on August 21, 2018.

Tiny Shopping Cart

The other day I needed a few things at the grocery store so I used one of those small shopping carts. They're easier to push and maneuver, turn sharper, and can be threaded through a crowd with ease. I think they're the best except for one small thing.

Nothing says "loser" louder than a tiny shopping cart.

I didn't notice it at first. The pathetic stares. The looks of sympathy. When you have a half gallon of milk, three ripe bananas, two yogurts and four apples in a tiny shopping cart, people look at you and think,

"Must be shopping for himself. Just himself."

A young woman with three kids in tow, dragging an enormous shopping cart, overflowing with bounty looked at me pushing my tiny cart then turned away quickly. As I zipped past her, she eyed me. I'm sure she was thinking,

"What're you in a hurry for? VCR tape gonna run out?"

Once while I was waiting in line with my little cart when a woman with a big shopping cart, stuffed to the brim, tapped me on my shoulder and asked, 

"Can I go ahead of you? I'm in a hurry. I have people at home waiting for me."

I moved to let her by. Another time an elderly woman muttered something to a little boy as I pushed my tiny cart. I heard her say,

"You see, Tad. If you're not a nice person, you’ll end up like that man over there. Alone."

One time I was making my way down an aisle with my tiny cart when another dude approached, pushing his diminutive cart. He lifted his fist while saying,

"Solid."

I wasn't sure what to say. All I could come up with was,

"Right on!"

Once I thought to add onto my wife's list juice boxes just so it looks like I had kids. As I loaded them into my tiny shopping cart, a woman gave me a dirty look then said abruptly, 

"Those are supposed to be for kids, you know."

"I have kids," I exclaimed.

"Sure you do," she said.

One time a cashier on the express line was talking with her colleague about taking a break when I came up with my little cart. I figured she would process my three pathetic items before her break. She looked me over then said,

"This line is closed. You have to go to the other line."

I moved to the adjacent line with the large carts. The cashier there exclaimed,

"This is not the express!"

A woman ahead of me said,

"Is that all you have?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I would let you go ahead, but you would just get home to your miserable life sooner," she reasoned.

The tiny shopping cart gained brief acceptance during the pandemic when starving people risked their lives by rushing into the grocery store to grab a few items. I miss the days during the height of the virus when it was socially acceptable to yell at an old woman pushing a tiny shopping cart against the arrow on the floor,

“WRONG WAY BITCH!”

I can’t wait for the day when cancel culture finally arrives to tiny shopping cart shaming, and when that day comes we will all know that we’ve truly arrived as a civilized society.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on January 12, 2017.

Robot Apocalypse

Some people believe that someday robots will take over the world. Smart people like the late Stephen Hawking posited artificial intelligence was the biggest threat to humankind. He claimed,

"The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race."

Bill Gates, the cofounder of Microsoft and one of the richest men in the world, said about AI,

"I don't understand why some people are not concerned."

The maker of the self driving electric car and Falcon rocket, Elon Musk, referred to artificial intelligence as the"fundamental risk to the existence of civilization."

That's pretty serious pub talk which usually necessitates more than one pint before men depart from discussing female anatomy for the more sinister subject of a robot apocalypse. Movie franchises like Terminator also paint a bleak picture for mankind. After a month of learning at a geometric rate, Skynet became self aware at 2:40 am EST on August 29, 1997. The military brass, sensing pending doom, attempted to pull the plug after which robots became major dickheads. A similar thing happened at Facebook recently when a group of software engineers tried to create an AI software system which started to communicate in a completely new language, undecipherable by humans. In a panic, they cut the power before the system became self aware and started posting favorable reviews of Ben Shapiro.

The Matrix is yet another film in which a computer takes over the world, albeit an alien backed hardware system that smokes anything Microsoft or Google ginned up. Humans are enslaved as batteries to supply power to the vast matrix even though solar would have been way cheaper and would have involved far less fluids. Agents, software constructs that prowl the matrix, exploit humans at will to keep everything running smoothly. The last installment of the trilogy doesn't offer good news for the human race who don't eventually prevail over the alien super computer. Instead, we agree not to mess with them as long as they don't mess with us which is pretty much the US foreign policy with Russia.

Then there was Transformers which had robots disguised as vehicles waging war on earth. The good guys, the Autobots, wanted to use the AllSpark to rebuild Cybertron, their home planet, while the Decepticons dreamt of an army of machines here on earth. Luckily the Autobots found mankind worth saving, but the Decepticons, who evidently learned about humans from social media, prefer to wipe us off the planet.

I'm inclined to fear technology since for me it's becoming mostly an unknown. There are so many things being developed today on the technology front, it's no wonder old farts like me, Bill Gates and Elon Musk pants shit when someone mentions something new. Take for instance the demise of my TV set recently. A friend of mine who has got ten years on me is convinced that what caused my Samsung flat screen to shit the futon was,

"All that technology you plugged into it."

He was referring to an Xbox, a Wii and a DVD. He also exclaimed adamantly that YouTube was the likely culprit that took down my TV. I tried to explain to him that smart TVs run all sorts of apps, but he was having no part of it.

"All those gizmos are going to cause a fire," he asserted.

Old people always think technology spontaneously combusts. I recall my mother being afraid of the microwave oven, certain that one day it would explode in her kitchen and burn her house down. Instead she used a toaster oven which she left on one time and damn near melted the linoleum. I think all this fear of technology is due to the aging nature of society's brain trust. If you want to see real robots in action, all you have to do is check out the DARPA Robotics Challenge.

The robots are tasked to perform mundane things like walking up stairs or exiting a vehicle. Most entrants move through the course at the pace of a line at the DMV while onboard processors crunch algorithms to calculate the next move. Many robots fall over for seemingly no reason at all. One comes crashing down while trying to turn a doorknob. Another, attempting to traverse a doorway, falls on its mechanical ass. Seems like most robots are a greater threat to themselves rather than to us.

Even Facebook engineers explained that their AI bot was shutdown not in response to a perceived threat, but because it was replaced by a more advanced construct, that is, they canned the original because it was too lame. In Terminator, Skynet made some obvious miscalculations. When holding up in a cheap motel, Arnold Schwarzenegger is blowing it up in his room when the manager comes by and asks,

"Hey buddy. You got a dead cat in there or what?"

The advanced processor in the terminator's head arrives at these six possible responses,

Possible Responses to the Dead Cat Question

and picks the correct answer, that is,

"Fuck you, asshole."

Considering that #4 made the list tells me that robots have trouble understanding simple human interactions. This is why they will never be a real threat to the human race. After all, robots are stumped by this,



Robots can't find all the bridges, and we worry that they're gonna take over the world? It's doubtful that robots are going to get any smarter because fewer and fewer kids are going into STEM these days. I think human intelligence probably peaked two decades ago with the invention of the Flowbee, the home haircutting system. Even though more people are going to college than ever, most are working towards worthless degrees like Hospitality Management which, as far as I can tell, is a degree in being nice. It's unlikely today that a college graduate is going to create a revolutionary microprocessor that will eventually lead to the extinction of the human race.

I'll tell you, Bill Gates, why people are unconcerned with artificial intelligence. Because robots are stupid.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on June 26, 2018.

A Zero Tolerance

Back in 1992, I was a drilling reservist in a submarine repair unit attached to the local naval base. I was the Admin Officer which means I was in charge of pushing paper, and that's what I did. For brevity lets just say that I had less than a successful career on active duty. The most notable evidence of this was plainly visible on my uniform since I was lacking a warfare pin. As a general line officer, I wasn't part of any military community so that made me the perpetual outsider.

The practice of "protecting your community" was widely employed in the reserves which was just a reason to favor your friends. It ran deeper than warfare designation. It included where you got your commission, preferably from the Naval Academy. Membership on a sports team also played a big factor with the lacrosse team being a real asset. I was often passed over for more important jobs in favor of a guy who ran around with a golf ball in an athletic cup on a stick. That was okay with me. I was there for the money and the experience in that order.

One time an enlisted unit member, Tony Borgeses, a squared away electronic technician, tested positive on the urinalysis drug screening. The military has a zero tolerance policy for drug use. Pop positive during "Operation Golden Flow," and you're out of here. No questions asked. It was incongruous, illogical. Borgeses was a top notch petty officer with years of active duty, who I had known for almost a decade. We played frisbee at unit cookouts. He was athletic and a family man. How could he smoke pot? When I finally got to talking to him his response was candid and quite frankly, lacked imagination. You know, boring like reality.

"I have no idea how I tested positive,” Borgeses explained.

Occasionally, someone in the unit failed a drug test. They often had elaborate, imaginative excuses like antihistamines, poppy seeds or secondhand smoke at a concert. No one ever said that they just didn't know. Petty Officer Borgeses elected to fight the charge in a courts-martial. We had a tight unit. A lot of guys came out to testify on his behalf. As a Lieutenant, I was the only officer. On the day the court convened, I spoke to the JAG assigned to Borgeses  He interviewed all of the character witnesses. The prosecutor, a Lieutenant Commander, was an assistant attorney general as a civilian. He didn't bother to talk to any of us because he figured the zero tolerance policy in the military mandated that Petty Officer Borgeses would be thrown out. I learned later that the prosecutor was tough on drug offenders in his state.

When it came time for me to testify, I thought it would be like Aaron Sorkin's, A Few Good Men. You know, Tom Cruise cleverly grilling me on the stand. Something like that. Instead I sat in a chair in front of five captains who didn't say much. Two were women. All were lawyers. I testified that I knew the accused as a squared away sailor who never even drank alcohol at unit cookouts. There was ten character witnesses, and I was the highest rank so my credibility ran deep.

After the testimony, the board agreed to retest Petty Officer Borgeses, and if he passed, then they would go against the zero tolerance policy and let him stay. It was an unprecedented decision spurned on by the impression made by the many character witnesses. That just never happened before, that is, a group of military members supporting one of their own accused of such an ostracizing crime. Most of us were happy with the outcome, but not everyone. The unit commanding officer was openly angered by the decision.

"I got a drug addict in my unit," he emphatically exclaimed.

The CO rallied all the officers and senior enlisted against me for testifying on behalf of Borgeses. I didn't really care. I was already an outsider and used to all the negative treatment. When the results came back from Borgeses's post trial urinalysis screening, the CO was elated. Tony failed the test a second time. When I asked him what was going on, he said,

"I have no clue."

"Well, if you're not smoking it, then you're eating it," I surmised.

Borgeses was Portuguese and worked as a civilian electrician with a lot of Asians. He told me that he and his coworkers participated in a potluck lunch every Friday, exchanging ethnic foods. Borgeses said that most of his coworkers were Cambodian. One was named "Samang." He went by "Sam." The internet was a new thing for the public back in those days, and it was text based, that is, no flashy browser with ads popping up on the edges. I navigated to a bulletin board, the precursor to modern day texting, that hosted a topic entitled "Cambodian Life." I typed,

"Can anyone tell me if Cambodians cook with marijuana?"

"Yeah, we use it as a spice," a participant shot back.

That was the first time I used the internet for useful information. The guy went on describing the amount of pot used and how it changed the flavor. Petty Officer Borgeses also called saying Sam told him that he cooked several dishes with marijuana. He gave me Sam's telephone number. Back then, you couldn't text with a cell phone so I called the guy up. He was very nervous. Although a legal immigrant, he didn't know that cooking with pot was illegal. He thought the law applied only to smoking it. As far as I could tell, this was a cultural difference, not a criminal act. Ignorance is no excuse of the law, but I never though it was civil to incarcerate people who were hard working, tax paying citizens, who just made a mistake. Better to go after drug dealers and habitual users than a Cambodian father who was an electrician and a survivor of the Killing Fields.

Another courts-martial was convened. This time only me and one other unit member supported Petty Officer Borgeses. Before I testified, my Commanding Officer stopped me.

"You're throwing away your military career," he stated sternly.

"But he's..." I began.

The CO interrupted, "I'm from the Midwest. I can look a man in the eye, and tell if he's lying. This guy is a druggy."

"Well, I'm not from the Midwest," I explained, "I have to listen to the facts."

The CO shook his head and waved me off as he said something with the word "stupid" in it. At the trial, the prosecutor wasn't taking any chances. He grilled me in a closed room in front of a master chief, the highest enlisted rank. The prosecutor was short, balding, with a cheesy mustache. He looked like he took a lot of abuse in high school. His assistant was intimating, big and brawny with rows and rows of ribbons on his chest. He wore his dress blues which sported seven gold stripes on the sleeve, each representing four years of good service. This guy had served honorably in the navy when I was picking my nose and watching cartoons. The prosecutor asked me what I was going to testify. I told him that Cambodians cooked with marijuana. He asked,

"Why don't you have a warfare pin?"

There was no hiding it so I answered.

"I washed out of nuke training."

“You get into trouble or something?"

The truth is when I was in Naval Nuclear Propulsion School, I studied just like I did when I got high honors in a tough university engineering program. The same system of academic effort worked two more time in graduate school, but not in the navy. Back then my advisor recommended that if I didn't know an answer, I should "write anything down just to get through." I would like to attest that I understood what he was trying to tell me, and I nobly refused to fake it, but that was not the case. What I didn't know at the time was that military education commands are on the hook to push out graduates so they actively encourage cheating. I didn't grasp what my advisor was telling me to do. If I did, I would have done it. I drew down a lot of flack for unwittingly not going along with the system, one that I didn't fully understand until decades later when I read all the news reports about cheating aboard submarines.

"No," I answered.

The prosecutor grilled me for what seemed like an eternity, taking a lot notes on anything he could use to discredit me. When he finished, I stood to leave. The Master Chief jumped to his feet, reached his arm out to shake my hand while saying,

"It was very good to meet you, sir."

Now, some explanation is required for you nonmilitary types. A master chief never refers to a junior officer as "sir." They almost always use their rank as in "Lieutenant," which is a proper reference, devoid of the respect associated with more formal term. To have a master chief address me in that manner took me off guard. I wasn't sure why this guy with such a stellar military career would pay any respect to a person defending another sailor on a drug charge. I shook his hand then got ready to testify. I met Sam in the waiting room. He told me that he was a refugee from Cambodia. He was very nervous. He felt he should testify on behalf of his coworker. Sam said,

"I didn't mean to get Tony in trouble."

Then he asked, "Can I use your phone? I told my wife, if I didn't speak to her by 2 o' clock, I probably would never see her again."

"Why? What do you think is gonna happen?"

"I'll go to a work camp," Sam answered.

This guy came in to testify when he thought he was dealing with Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. I pulled out my cell phone and gave it to him.

"Call your wife. Nothing's going to happen to you."

That guy was brave. When I was called to testify, the JAG assigned to Borgeses asked me about how I knew Cambodians cooked with pot. When I was cross-examined, the prosecutor asked,

"So it was your idea that the defendant was consuming marijuana, right?"

"Yes sir. I figured if he wasn't smoking it, he must be eating it," I answered.

"How did you come to that conclusion? You a dietitian?"

"No, I didn’t think you’d pop positive for sitting on it.”

The board laughed as did the Master Chief. I didn't break a smile. Truth is, I was scared.

"You think this is funny, Lieutenant?"

"I’m not laughing," I answered.

This got the prosecutor visible angry.

"It doesn't bother you, Lieutenant, that the defendant failed two drug test?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Why not? Please elaborate for the board. I'm sure they would love to hear your opinion given your stellar career in the navy."

The Master Chief stirred in his chair. It was clear he didn't like the prosecutor's remark.

"I expected it," I answered.

"You expected it? Why cause you know about drug use?"

“We’ll, it’s just common sense."

"Please enlighten us."

"When I heard that there would be another screening, I immediately thought that if Borgeses was telling the truth, he would pop positive again."

"Because he's a drug addict."

"No, because if he was lying and deliberately introducing marijuana into his system, he would have stopped whatever he was doing to clear the test. If he was telling the truth, and didn't know how it was happening, he wouldn't have changed anything, and whatever he was doing, he would continue to do, and fail the test again."

One captain, scribbling notes, suddenly stopped writing in her notebook and abruptly looked up. The Master Chief was grinning. The penetrating gaze from all that high ranking military law was unnerving. The prosecutor's bald head turned crimson as he looked at me with contempt.

"No more questions!" he blurted.

I got up and exited. Sam went in next. I heard voices being raised. As the persecutor's case began slipping away, he decided to charge Sam with possession. The captains were having no part of that. They decreed that this "was a navy matter that would go no further than the courtroom." I had some papers to push so I found an empty desk in which I could work. Later, when I left the building, the Master Chief was in the parking lot. He walked up to me and saluted, then declared,

"The board recommended that Borgeses be retained." 

"Really," I said as I retuned his salute.

"In all my time in the navy, I never saw an officer go out on a limb like that," Master Chief offered.

Chiefs in the navy are historically the proponents of the sailors. Officers are the enforcers of rules. The Master Chief saw me assuming his role, but with obvious repercussions. 

"Well, I'll have a good story for my kids someday," I surmised.

“I don’t think so. They put a gag order on the proceedings for twenty-five years. They don't want to give sailors a way out of the zero tolerance policy."

"Well, then it will be a good story for my grandkids."

"Not many officers would've testified. They're too worried about making rank."

"Yeah well. I don't have to worry about that," I said while glancing to my left shirt pocket.

Master Chief put out his arm. We shook hands. He smiled broadly, let out a laugh, then off he went. Unfortunately, the CO of our unit, citing the gag order, never allowed Petty Officer Borgeses to tell the unit his side of the story. He made life tough for Borgeses, telling him that as far as he was concerned he was just a druggy. Borgeses moved to California and retired from the military a few years later. The CO also dinged me on my fitness report, but he eventually left, and I continued on. I made rank twice and retired as a full commander.

Maybe a few times in your life, you'll be asked to do something, defend a principle, state a case in opposition to what everyone else believes. When the time comes, the true measure will not be in distinguishing right from wrong, but rather right over prudence.

It is sometimes said that military medals are worn on the left so they're closest to your heart. That may be true, but true leadership comes from a place far below the uniform.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on May 4, 2017.