Imagined Reality

Joe Does a Good Deed

rsharpe — Mon, 26 Jan 2015 22:55:37 GMT

I was catching up on Joe's twitter feed and he has posted a picture of a baby seal that he saw on the beach. Since he thought it looked sick and tired, he called someone to come look and they took it to (I suppose) a rehab facility. He said the seal would be getting sushi there! Proves he's a good guy.

Tiny Update

rsharpe — Tue, 30 Dec 2014 03:51:32 GMT

Not much has changed. He's sitting up a lot more, mostly in a wheelchair which makes it more convenient to get him to and from the rehab rooms. They're huge spaces, larger than some gyms I've seen and have lots of machines for specific exercises. Some of the areas are set up to look and feel like you're in a home with the typical obstacles you'd find there.

He's determined to conquer all the obstacles and improve as fast as possible.

Sort of an Update

rsharpe — Mon, 29 Dec 2014 01:07:31 GMT

I had a 24 hour bug and since I was running a fever, I didn't go to the center today. Hubby and I talked several times on the phone and he sounded fine. He was even pleased that both his lunch and dinner had been edible. So I'll go out tomorrow afternoon barring any more complications. I just didn't think it was wise to go where people are sick with the fever and tummy problems.

'Nother Update

rsharpe — Sun, 28 Dec 2014 05:10:52 GMT

Hubby was transported from the hospital to the rehab center after lunch today. I hope that what I've heard about this facility is better than what I saw. One of the nurses made the comment that the center was past due for an upgrade and I couldn't agree more. The hallways looked nice but the rooms are lacking. He is in a semi-private room and I can see right now that his room mate is going to get on my nerves if I am in the room the same time he is. He must be about half deaf (I'm not making fun of him) and he keeps his tv on as loud as it can go. He has also appropriated all the chairs and keeps them on his side of the curtain. I had to ask a PA if I could get one.

Hubby's shedule seems to be a busy one. His rehab is split into morning and afternoon sesions with a break for lunch. They prefer visitors to come after 4:00 in the afternoon, so maybe I can get caught up on laundry, etc. before I go out to visit.

No idea yet as to how long he'll stay there. I'm guessing that everything depends on his progress. I hope he'll do well and be home soon.

Update

rsharpe — Sat, 27 Dec 2014 02:00:38 GMT

Back from the hospital and encouraged by some progress that Hubby has made. He was allowed to sit in a chair most of the day and walked a bit (with a walker and a lot of help). He's still in a lot of pain but the doctor has his pain pills on a shorter schedule so that he gets relief before the prior pill wears off.

As far as I know, they've found a room for him at a rehab facility and we're hoping he'll be transported there tomorrow. This facility has a really good reputation for high quality though it's pretty intense. The time I can spend with him will be much less so that he can concentrate on his rehab. If he is transferred there tomorrow I should have a schedule for vistitation.

Not So Merry Update

rsharpe — Fri, 26 Dec 2014 03:55:03 GMT

Hubby is still in the hospital. He's progressed from morphine to oxycontin so he's actually making a little more sense when he's conscious. He's still in some pain and has no appetite, so I've been coaxing him to eat at least a little bit. I've learned that Ensure can be your friend.

The therapist has him sitting in a chair for lunch and then a while after. Naturally, he isn't able to put any weight on his leg at all. We're waiting to be told when and where he'll be going for rehab. I'm afraid that he'll be in rehab for quite a while, but maybe things will settle down a little once he's there and is on a regular schedue.

I'm exhausted and naturally my back is acting up out of spite. Some of it is probably sitting and sleeping in the not-so-comfortable hospital chairs, some from staying tensed up and worried.

Hope to have some news tomorrow.

Not So Merry Christmas

rsharpe — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:58:44 GMT

I'll be spending Christmas in the hospital. Hubby has a badly broken leg. We had gone to the Eye Center for his appointment (just a check-up) and as we were going through the double doors the entry rug had gotten rucked up. I walked past it and suddenly something hit me in the back. I staggered a few steps, but got my balance and turned around to find Hubby lying on the floor of the entry. He had caught his shoes in the rug and went down hard pushing me as he fell. There was a huge scene with the people from the Eye Center rushing over and trying to help. We propped his head and knees up with pillows til the paramedics got there. He was in so much pain they had to give him some pretty strong drugs so they could transport him to the hospital

The rest of Monday was spent getting him admitted and more or less sorted out until the orthopedic surgeon could do his exam and check the x-rays. On the plus side, his hip is not broken. On the minus side, his femur is badly broken. The surgery was today. It took quite a few hours and he ended up with a rod and several screws to hold everything together. So . . I'm more or less living there untll it's decided if he can come home or if he'll have to go to a rehab facility first.

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. A fancy dinner and champagne is now out and I feel so sorry for him. He's getting little rest and practically no sleep and I'm doing the same. If he has to go to rehab, I won't be able to bring him home til probably New Year's.

That's the story of our holiday. I hope everyone else is having much better luck and a much more Merry Chrstmas!

Netflex - Looking for advice

rsharpe — Fri, 28 Nov 2014 15:35:50 GMT

Question for Netflix users: How does it work? I know that I have to buy a box (I'm looking at Roku III), I don't have Wi-Fi but Roku is HDMI compliant. Are movies and/or TV shows charged individually as well or does the $8.00 per month cover the cost of the shows. Any and all advice greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.

This will not be in replacemen of our cable service but in addition to it as I have a bundled service.

The Jack Haldean Mysteries

rsharpe — Tue, 29 Jul 2014 22:07:41 GMT

Sorry, I can't remember who recommended these books to me. I've just gotten the first one and haven't even read it yet but I still wanted to thank you. Just browsing through the book has gotten me very hopeful that it's going to be a good read. Thanks again!

Birthday

rsharpe — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 11:47:29 GMT

I was born 63 years ago today. My birthday seems weirder every year. Sometimes I feel like I'm 18 but, depending on a lot of factors, at times I feel as though I'm 118. Guess that's how it goes. Thanks to everyone who remembered. I really appreciate it.

FORGET PHIL ROBERTSON (WHOEVER HE IS, NEVER SEEN THE SHOW) HAVE LOST THE BYLINE OF THIS AUTHOR

rsharpe — Fri, 03 Jan 2014 02:57:13 GMT

"It's time to address religious fundamentalism as a major source of intolerance in a changing world.

Our nation has come a long way in the past few years when it comes to homosexuality and LGBTQ rights. There was once a time in this country when the legalization of lesbian and gay marriage would've been literally unthinkable; now it's legal in 17 states. And while we still have a ways to go in the arena of public opinion, it's a pretty indisputable fact that we're a lot further along now than we were back then.

Nevertheless, every now and then we'll see a scandalous furor erupt over less-than-progressive comments from some public figure or another. The most recent of these was the much-buzzed-about interview given by Duck Dynasty patriarch Phil Robertson to GQ magazine; by now, I'm sure you've read/heard/debated about his comments until you’re nauseous.

But this issue is much bigger than Phil Robertson. As much I think he and all the male members of his backwoods family are ignorant buffoons with highly unsanitary hirsute issues, I also think we need to look at the bigger issue. When it comes down to it, the man was abiding by the tenets of his faith—just as the Muslims do.

The elephant in the room that the media doesn't want to discuss is the fact that the Judeo-Christian tradition, on which Western culture has been based has lasted for nearly two millennia.

Just as it has in issues of race and gender, our culture is now starting to move past centuries-old biases against sexual orientation, but organized religion has not—and cannot—do the same without abandoning scriptural teachings. For all the outrage, pundits continue to ignore that the very faiths the majority of them were probably raised in contain anti-gay prohibitions, and very few have the balls to come out directly against organized religion.

The fact of the matter is that the faiths that most of us were raised in taught us to think that homosexuality is wrong. In instances like the Robertson debacle, many of us seem to ignore this basic fact. It's not as if Robertson is just spouting some stuff from the top of his head; he's quoting from the most widely published and read book in the history of the world.

To be clear, I'm not justifying what he said--far from it--I'm merely pointing out from where his words and opinions are derived, something that is rarely done in the arena of public "debate" over issues like this. Robertson isn't saying anything radical; if anything, his comments are actually toned down from what you'd find in the major Western religious texts. Consider 1 Corinthians 6:9–10 in the New Testament, which reads, "Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God." Or Leviticus 18:22 in the Torah: "With a male you are not to lie (after the manner of) lying with a woman, it is an abomination." Of course he might also re-read Leviticus 10:15, “Let not your hair become unkempt.”

I have yet to see a public commentator in the mainstream media acknowledge the fact that Judaism, Christianity and Islam all support Robertson’s statements. It's as if the truth is too hard to handle.

To be sure, the implications are there. It's definitely implied in the media's response that archaic thinking like this should be abandoned. The unspoken message is that this aspect of organized religion's message is out of step with where modern culture is headed, but no one wants to come out and explicitly state it. They'd rather deal with each specific controversy, like Robertson's, on a case-by-case basis, acting as if the opinion came from one individual and pretending to be baffled that anyone would still hold these ideas.

The Koran, Torah and New Testament all vilify homosexuals. The first two, in fact, call directly for their death. The Koran 7:80-84 says, "...For ye practice your lusts on men in preference to women: ye are indeed a people transgressing beyond bounds.... And we rained down on them a shower (of brimstone)." For every Phil Robertson out there, there are millions more who feel the same way but only because their religion tells them to.

Let's address the larger issue: If our culture is to advance, we may need to more openly question the ancient Middle-Eastern documents on which we still base it. There are certainly other prohibitions and rules mentioned in scripture that have been abandoned by the religious mainstream over time (Got a tattoo? Leviticus 19:28 reads, "Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you."), and it seems like homosexuality is headed that way, too. It's just a rocky road to get there, made all the more rocky by this collective amnesia that refuses to properly acknowledge from where the thinking is coming. And let's not even talk about pork and shrimp.

When Robertson seems so able to conflate intolerance for gays with universal love for all mankind, all he's doing is repeating the message of his faith. I think some of the shock that arises when statements like his come to light may come from people who haven't cracked open a Bible in a while, and maybe aren't even all that familiar with what their own religion teaches at its core. There are plenty of people who do read and follow scripture who are quite familiar with these teachings, and who echo Robertson's opinions as a matter of course.

Granted, it's easier to lash out against one person or a group of people rather than take on a major world religion. But I'm not calling for the rejection of all organized religion—I happen to be a practicing Catholic who struggles with these conundrums on a regular basis. All I'm calling for is open discussion. It's time to address religious fundamentalism as a major source of intolerance in a changing world. It's a tough nut to crack, no question about it—but scripture is already so full of contradiction and outmoded beliefs that questioning its absolute infallibility is not such a radical idea.

The crude intolerance Robertson expressed in the GQ interview is pretty run-of-the-mill Christian thinking. Rather than giving more press to Robertson and Duck Dynasty, and A&E’s bowing down to the almighty dollar, let's talk about that."

Anyone in the UK?

rsharpe — Wed, 01 Jan 2014 23:02:51 GMT

Is there anyone in the UK who could obtain the new Sherlock Holmes episode? This the first episode of the fourth season and is entitled "The Empty Hearse". I know I'll be able to see it on PBS in a few weeks, but PBS cuts some of the episode for commercials. Thanks in advance for anyone who can do this.

Football (American)

rsharpe — Sun, 06 Oct 2013 21:54:29 GMT

I just can't understand why hubby thinks that the only reason for me to root for a team is dependent on the handsomeness and possible slashiness of the quarterback. I think these are valid reasons. Perhaps that is why I seldom am interested in American football.

Swiss Miss Chocolate

rsharpe — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:41:53 GMT

Will the person who became addicted to Swiss Miss Chocolate during their stay in the U.S pleas contact me? I think I may have worked out an agreeable exchange for both of us.

New Chapter Posted of "Warlord"

rsharpe — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 07:25:24 GMT

For anyone who's still reading, Chapter 14 of "Warlord" is now up at Archive of Our Own.

Go to: http://archiveofourown.org/users/rsharpe

Comments encouraged.

rsharpe — Sat, 04 Aug 2012 02:56:45 GMT

In a way, these thoughts were probably inspired by the Chick Fil A (or however it's spelled) debacle, though I've thought about this a lot long before that happened. I attempted a few discussions of the events of Wednesday on various forums with people who I thought would have intelligent ideas to add or views from various "sides". Not. My closest friends are aware of my views on the subjects of straight, gay, black, white, brown, tall, short, fat, thin, male, female, bi, transgender or any other descriptor you want to use. That's not really what this is about.

Even if you're not a "traditional" Christian, or a Christian at all, I'm sure you have heard this quoted and misquoted many times. I quote from the King James version of the Bible: The First Letter to Timothy, Chapter Ten, Verse Six, reads "For the love of money is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows."

My thought on this particular passage, having a little knowledge of history, but not attempting to be blasphemous is that perhaps it should read: "For the love of religion is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows."

Make of this what thou wilt.

I generally don't do these, but . . .

rsharpe — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 06:53:17 GMT

(1) Go to Page 7 of your most recent Work In Progress.

(2) Count 7 lines down, and

(3) Copy and paste the next 7 lines of text.

"So, if you're not writing an AAR, exactly what *are* you writing at this time of night?"

"It's personal."

"Ha! It can't be personal. Nothing is personal between us. We have no personal things. We share everything."

"You said that, I didn't."

"And why are you *writing*. With a pen. On paper. Why aren't you using a laptop?"

"Maybe so Nosy McNosy won't be reading it."

"Give me that . . . "

A Poor Use of Funds

rsharpe — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 17:06:04 GMT

"Comedian Bill Maher donates $1 million to Obama Super Pac."

If he needed to use $1 million as a tax cut to a charity, he should have chosen better. Never liked the man, like him even less now.

FIC: Warlord

rsharpe — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:45:07 GMT

TITLE: WARLORD
FANDOM: Stargate: Atlantis
AUTHOR: rsharpe
BETAS, HONORED ADVISORS AND ARTIST: To Be Announced
DISCLAIMER: All of Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of other people. This is a work of fiction; none of it is mine with the
exception of a few OCs and the sections of the story that are completely AU. If you wish to use any original situations or any OCs from this story, please ask first.
SPOILERS: May possibly contain content from all five seasons. Events and episodes go AU at points. Some episodes are mentioned only in passing, some are ignored altogether. There are situations and/or dialogue that may come directly from episode(s).
CHARACTERS: Sheppard-Centric but with most of the usual suspects.
GEN/HET/SLASH: Gen
RATING: MA: Mature Adult for canon death, violence, torture, drug use, intense situations, nudity, swearing, politically incorrect language, etc.
ARCHIVE: Do not archive without my permission.
STATS: This is not a WIP, the story is complete. Chapters will be various lengths due to the nature of the narrative. Some shorter chapters may be combined for continuity,
SUMMARY/WARNINGS: A Warlord is a person with both military and civil power and control over an area due to armed forces loyal to the warlord and not to a central authority. The term can also mean one who espouses the idea that war is necessary, and has the means and authority to engage in war. Under the feudal system the local military leader enjoyed great autonomy and a personal army, and still derived legitimacy from formal fealty to a central authority. A warlord can also mean a military commander exercising civil power in a region, whether in nominal allegiance to the national government or in defiance of it.
This story is about war. Most of the events will be from John Sheppard's perspective. It is not a pretty story, nor is it light reading. There are battles fought, large and small, both won and lost. Men and women meet violent and gruesome deaths. Some victims may be unarmed civilians, noncombatants or children. A lot of the characters will use language, slang and racial slurs that may make some people uncomfortable. These remarks and comments are not intended to shock, nor do they represent my personal opinions. People do not tend to be politically correct when fighting for their lives in a war zone. Some of these characters will not act or react as they did in canon. There are those who adopt a cavalier attitude toward death, their own and that of others. The characters in this story are facing what seems to be a hopeless situation as best they can, with courage and determination.
FEEDBACK: Positive feedback delivered in a respectful manner will be gratefully received.

"You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war."
- Albert Einstein
- 1879 - 1955

John had done well during all four required courses of the USAF Survival School. Thinking back about how quickly he was snapped up and assigned to Black Ops for further training, he wondered if excelling during those courses might just have been a mistake. He was especially pleased and relieved when the last course which teaches Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape primarily to aircrew members was concluded. That course had concentrated on the principles, techniques and skills necessary to aircrew members to survive in any environment and finally to return home or back to the objective. Now it was over and he was still sporting a black eye, a sore jaw, a ragged cut on his forehead, scrapes on his arms and legs, and rope burns encircling his ankles and wrists. But he'd beat the time of the next trainee in line and he'd been a SEAL.

He also had several bruises that were in very tender places so he figured he deserved a little fun. And if that fun involved collecting on a few bets, so much the better. On a day pass between the completion of the schools and his transport out for the additional mysterious training, he got a ride from the base to a restaurant one street over from the Sunset Strip Club in Moose Creek. It didn't take long for John to figure out why the bar was off limits to all military personnel from Fort Wainwright and Eielson Air Force Base.

Thinking ahead, John had stuck civilian clothes in the bottom of his duffle, so that he wouldn't stand out as military immediately. He'd pulled on a pair of worn jeans, a long-sleeved thermal over a tee shirt and covered that with a North Face jacket. There was nothing he could do to disguise the boots, but it must have worked as none of the patrons even gave him a glance. Gathering his courage, he asked the big, mean-looking bartender with the shaved head and more tattoos than John could count if he could get a receipt for his beer with the name of the bar and the date and time stamped on it. The behemoth actually laughed at that and handed over a pre-printed receipt with all the information to John and told him he had brass ones. John's new friend kept the free beer coming and it got better and colder as the afternoon wore on. At one point his buddy pushed a plate across the bar with a sandwich and chips. John left an enormous tip. Hell, it wasn't like he'd need money where he was going. It was just getting dark outside when he realized he'd better go before his luck ran out. The next stage show looked promising and, as far as he could tell, some of the dancers were even women, but he'd won the bet and probably shouldn't stay any longer or he'd miss his ride.

He'd also gotten an exceptional grade during his solitary six days in the mountains of Colville and Kaniksu Natuibak Forests. Hell, he'd enjoyed that. But what John had really excelled at was the SERE training back at Fairchild. He supposed he'd be using that knowledge real soon. John wondered briefly what the Taliban would grade on.

If he did make it back, he wouldn't lie during his inevitable Article 15 hearing and say anything except given the same circumstances he'd do it again. He wouldn't regret it during the mandatory Cool School at Eielson he'd have to attend, no matter how far below zero the temperature dropped. After all he was still the property of the United States Air Force, and he figured that McMurdo was about the only place he could possibly end up. That was the farthest base he could be sent to, if he survived, so that would probably be his next assignment. He had too many medals and commendations for bravery to kick him out right after this, and McMurdo used a lot of chopper pilots. Maybe he was being arrogant, but he just couldn't imagine a court martial being convened over a failed rescue attempt, even against orders.

As it turned out, he was right. He still didn't regret anything during the proceedings and all the lectures and warnings and being told for the thousandth time that he had it in him to be an excellent officer if he'd just get rid of his independent streak and his know-it-all-attitude. He didn't know who to thank that it really had turned out to be an Article 15 and not a court martial. John couldn't tell if his family connections had anything to do with it, but he was grateful all the same to whoever had pulled the strings. Then, finally, all was said and done and he was in the back of a transport headed to Christchurch and from there to Antarctica to fly choppers transporting military and civilians back and forth to what was supposed to be a secret installation. The Brass thought McMurdo would be the end of his career, not the beginning of a new one.

FIC: Warlord

rsharpe — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 07:33:04 GMT

TITLE: WARLORD
FANDOM: Stargate: Atlantis
AUTHOR: rsharpe
BETAS, HONORED ADVISORS AND ARTIST: To Be Announced
DISCLAIMER: All of Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of other people. This is a work of fiction; none of it is mine with the exception of a few OCs and the sections of the story that are completely AU. If you wish to use any original situations or any OCs from this story, please ask first.
SPOILERS: May possibly contain content from all five seasons. Events and episodes go AU at points. Some episodes are mentioned only in passing, some are ignored altogether. There are situations and/or dialogue that may come directly from episode(s).
CHARACTERS: Sheppard-Centric but with most of the usual suspects.
GEN/HET/SLASH: Gen
RATING: MA: Mature Adult for canon death, violence, torture, drug use, intense situations, nudity, swearing, politically incorrect language, etc.
ARCHIVE: Do not archive without my permission.
STATS: This is not a WIP, the story is complete. Chapters will be various lengths due to the nature of the narrative. Some shorter chapters may be combined for continuity.
SUMMARY/WARNINGS: A Warlord is a person with both military and civil power and control over an area due to armed forces loyal to the warlord and not to a central authority. The term can also mean one who espouses the idea that war is necessary, and has the means and authority to engage in war. Under the feudal system the local military leader enjoyed great autonomy and a personal army, and still derived legitimacy from formal fealty to a central authority. A warlord can also mean a military commander exercising civil power in a region, whether in nominal allegiance to the national government or in defiance of it.
This story is about war. Most of the events will be from John Sheppard's perspective. It is not a pretty story, nor is it light reading. There are battles fought, large and small, both won and lost. Men and women meet violent and gruesome deaths. Some victims may be unarmed civilians, noncombatants or children. A lot of the characters will use language, slang and racial slurs that may make some people uncomfortable. These remarks and comments are not intended to shock, nor do they represent my personal opinions. People do not tend to be politically correct when fighting for their lives in a war zone. Some of these characters will not act or react as they did in canon. There are those who adopt a cavalier attitude toward death, their own and that of others. The characters in this story are facing what seems to be a hopeless situation as best they can, with courage and determination.
FEEDBACK: Positive feedback delivered in a respectful manner will be gratefully received.

Chapter One

"Morality is contraband in war."
- Mahatma Gandhi
- 1869 - 1948

Captain Lyle "Dutch" Holland was dead. Their current little corner of hell had begun well over 24 hours ago when John had heard Dutch's hoarse voice, nearly unrecognizable from smoke and pain, calling into HQ over the designated ops channel for immediate exfil. Holland and Landers had been picking up two teams and Lyle's chopper had gone down under heavy fire. Since Landers was pushing his chopper's weight limit with several badly wounded men on board and had undetermined damage to his ship as well, he had no choice but to continue back to base. The sheer amount of gunfire and screams was almost overriding Holland's shouted words of desperation over the staticy com. He also confirmed that every soldier in his unit had taken fire and he was the only one still mobile.

It was taking way too long for the exfiltration orders to come down to their level from the higher-ups and John's disobedience that day would be armchair-quarterbacked for months by the lucky bastards who weren't there and hadn't had to make a decision in a matter of seconds. He'd landed his own helicopter just minutes before, finishing an uneventful border patrol. John heard the call on the com from the COs office as he was headed past his office door for the briefing room down the hall. He was still suited up and he didn't even hesitate before turning on his heel and running back down the corridors with his commander's orders to stand down thundering after him. John knew he had scant minutes to act before the SFs came running out to stop him.

In spite of disobeying a direct order, taking up a copter that hadn't been fully checked and refueled, shoving the shocked co-pilot out the door and onto the pavement to at least save his young ass, John knew there would be those who said it would all be for nothing. That Holland and all his men were as good as dead. But John had to try. He had to try again! God! This was just like Mitch and Dex in Khabour all over again! So he slammed his helmet on and rushed the Hawk through the pre-flight. taking her up way too quickly, crooning nonsense to his lady all the way. They might try to physically stop him on the flight line, but they'd never fire on him. He was lifting off before the first wave of SFs had even made it half way across the burning hot pavement, the afternoon mirage making them appear as a shimmering ghost company coming to drag him back into hell. Instead, he was voluntarily flying into it. As an afterthought, he killed his com. He didn't need the distraction.

John knew that The Brass would declare that there was too much risk for too little return, they'd say that was the reason the exfil orders weren't given. It was not the men's lives they were concerned with . . . it was money, pure and simple. Risk versus reward. Black figures on white paper, with a big, red minus sign denoting a negative return on the investment. If John went down hard, and there was a good chance he would from the abundance of firepower the enemy were using, that would be two multi-million dollar helicopters lost instead of one. At least it wouldn't be three. Landers' chopper had somehow come through the bombardment barely scored by the entrenched guns considering how bad it could have been. The wounded that Landers and his crew had picked up were already being sorted for transfer. Maybe some of them would even make it. John knew that there would be no orders for other choppers to follow him back in and cover the extraction. Hell, even if he made it back, with or without Holland or any of his crew, alive or dead, his ass was well and truly fucked.

Oh, Holland had been alive when John got there. Barely. The only one still painfully gasping for breath. But before he'd collapsed behind what cover he could find in the bullet-riddled chopper, Holland had been just mobile enough to destroy all the sensitive parts of his bird, just as John had done at his own crash site before loping over the uneven sand and rocks to locate any survivors. Of course John made it there by being shot down himself which was just all kinds of awkward when about all he had on him was his standard sidearm and a spare clip or two. A lucky shot had hit his rotor and brought John's copter spiraling down close to the first crash site. It had been the best controlled landing with damage that John had ever done. He was actually pretty proud of that.

The long range enemy fire had stopped for now and both John and Holland assumed the insurgents were shutting down their heavy artillery and camouflaging it in preparation to get down the mountain to the crashed helicopters and look for survivors or intel, hopefully both. The area between where the heavy fire had been coming from and the sand and brush where the helicopters were now was rocky, nearly vertical terrain. The Taliban would be already en route but they had a little time.

Things got really interesting as John attempted to patch Holland up with his little-used field trauma training. Since he'd grabbed the large first aid kit just before he took off running, he at least had plenty of supplies to work with. All sizes of field bandages, pads, clotting powder, sutures and even a plastic splint for Dutch's probably broken leg. What he didn't have was a trained medic, air and ground support and time.

Thank God the larger kits included a hard plastic case with pre-loaded morphine and antibiotic syringes. The splint would help a little when they moved, since they had no other choice. He'd taken a chance and injected his patient with half a dose of morphine to numb the pain a little before he started working on the worst of Lyle's injuries. John knew he didn't dare risk a full dose but he had to have Holland's cooperation. The other reason he skimped on the morphine was that Lyle's breathing seemed a little impaired. He didn't think a half dose would hurt him as he was pulling in air, even if it was a little labored.

Dutch still had enough spirit left in spite of the intense pain he was in to rag on John about crashing his own chopper. John thought about telling him another had been dispatched but Dutch would figure out that no one else was coming when they'd have to start moving instead of staying near the choppers.

John's own crash hadn't been quite as soft as he'd implied to Lyle. As far as his own injuries, John could feel what he hoped were just bruised ribs as every time he moved they thrummed in pain. His left shoulder felt more or less as it were being roasted over a slow flame and he wasn't nearly as coordinated as he'd like to be. His awkward movements might have something to do with the pounding headache that likely meant a slight concussion and the trickle of blood that he kept wiping away from his left eye. When the trickle turned into a steady stream, he paused working on Holland long enough to slap a small pad over the raised knot and bleeding scratch, taping it haphazardly just to get it stopped. John wished he could just lie down somewhere soft and safe and indulge in a little morphine as well.

Knowing that the clock was ticking, John muscled Dutch up and, with both of them grunting and cursing, half carried and half dragged him through as much sand and scrub as they could cover before dark. John knew they were leaving a trail from the wreckage that a child could follow and he also knew that Holland wasn't going to make it unless a miracle happened and a friendly picked them up. Soon. John had briefly considered taking shelter in an old, badly rusted Russian chopper, but their tracks in the sand led straight to it and there wasn't enough of it left to be a defensible position.

There would be no more helicopters coming, no more rescue attempts. Holland had gotten wise to that too and when John realized that they had been staggering across the broken landscape for hours and that the man couldn't take much more movement he gently lowered him to the sand. John tried his best to reassure Lyle by saying that he was really tired too and that they'd just take a short break. After about twenty minutes, Holland quietly succumbed to hypovolemic shock from too many bullet wounds John had had neither the time, skills or supplies to treat. Just before Dutch's eyes closed for good, he grabbed John's sleeve, nodded and gave him a wavering salute. John saw everything on Lyle's painfully grateful face that he just couldn't get enough breath to say. "Thanks for coming back for me, Sheppard. I didn't want to die alone. But it was a damm fool thing to do."

The oddest thing about the whole clusterfuck was that John didn't even like Holland. Basically Dutch's loud bullshit bragging about all his unlikely female conquests and his bad jokes and clowning around got on John's nerves. He avoided him, his equally grating buddies and his antics, bypassing the cleared area at the front of the hanger that had been turned into a barracks where a few chairs and tables were set up as a makeshift dayroom. Enough packages got through that by this time they could be shared and there were decks of cards, board games, magazines and paperback books. Some of the packages even had goodies like cookies cushioned with popcorn and even some bags of M & M's. On his arrival, John had immediately claimed an empty bunk in a back corner as his, stowed his duffel and, by sprawling on it and keeping a book or magazine with him to appear occupied, he usually succeeded in being left alone. Hell, he would have read a Harlequin novel if it got him an hour or two of peace and quiet.

Here and now, with the cold night coming on fast and only Holland's corpse keeping him company, John kept thinking he should be regretting coming back. He'd really done it this time. This stunt was going to earn him much more than an hour standing at attention and being chewed out by the Old Man. He did regret all the hell this was going to cause both him and his commander providing, of course, he made it back to base. But he didn't regret doing it, not one damm bit of it. He didn't think he would regret it even if he was captured.

It was fucking cold in the desert at night. But it was also beautiful. John finally laid back carefully, mindful of his sore ribs and even sorer shoulder and used his good arm to cushion his head so he could look at the stars. They were different stars than the ones he'd memorized as a small boy, but he took what comfort he could from them. He had the feeling that comfort was going to be hard to come by soon.

Writer's Block: State of the Union

rsharpe — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 22:17:45 GMT

Anybody but Obama. Anybody!

WTF?

rsharpe — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 19:18:28 GMT

I repeat, WTF? First the slackers who weren't working because nobody handed them a job on a silver platter and begged them to take it as though the entire world owes them something, now with their disruptive occupations of various places causing regular people who are actually trying to get to work all kinds of grief, the occupyers are using the nearest woods or bushes as bathrooms, cooking on campfire accessories that aren't even remotely suitable for where they're being used and generally causing mayhem and danger for everyone else. Now what, you say? Well, they've started a little list of things they'd like to have over at Amazon. Such as pairs of warm underwear,and stoves to cook with open flames. What th hell are these people thinking? I repeat . . . WTF? Cause it just can't be said enough.

post

rsharpe — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 06:51:10 GMT

Originally posted by subluxate at post

gandolforf's brother, Eric Lee Bark, pictured above, was last seen in Maquoketa, IA, on November 4, 2011. He gave no word to his family as to where he was going.

Eric was born December 19, 1987. He is 6'2" and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has hazel eyes and brown hair, and there is a 6" scar on the outside of his left arm, near his elbow. The last time he was seen, he was wearing a dark blue hoodie and blue jeans. His car is also missing; it's a green Jimmy with rust marks.

If you see him, please contact gandolforf at gandolforf@gmail.com, on Twitter at gandolforf, on Tumblr at http://gandolforf.tumblr.com/, or let me know. I will let A. know about anything as soon as I hear. You can also contact the Maquoketa Police Department at (563) 652-2468.

There is a Facebook post here; please pass it on if you can.

This post is public. Feel free to pass it on, in part or full, if you so choose.

Silly Request

rsharpe — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 00:44:37 GMT

I'm a little over 13,000 words into a Sheppard-centric fic. Since I was getting completely burned out and needed a diversion, I started playing a game called "Fishville", not on Facebook but on Yahoo. Now, here's the silly request: I need to hook up with others who are playing as my "neighbors" so that we can share rewards, etc. I'm on Level 20 and have become addicted to the game in between writing the fic.

So, is there anyone who's playing this game and would like to become "neighbors" to our mutual advantange? Anyone?

Joe to Guest on "Fringe"

rsharpe — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 04:15:03 GMT

Twitter is such an interesting tool. Joe Flanigan tweeted that he's now working on Fringe and...well, read his tweet for yourself, below.

According to his imdb page, Joe Flanigan was in "Stargate," and "Stargate:Atlantis"as well as "Dawson's Creek,"(the same series Joshua Jackson starred in as "Pacey.")

"Working on Fringe right now. Trying to get my small head around their
mythology. "

You can do it, Joe! Welcome aboard Fringe. We'll be watching you.
Follow Joe Flanigan on Twitter at @JoeFlanigan.