ON SHEEP, WOLVES, AND SHEEPDOGS
By LTC(RET) Dave Grossman, RANGER,
Ph.D., author of "On Killing."
Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always, even death itself. The question remains:
What is worth defending?
What is worth dying for?
What is worth living for?
- William J. Bennett - in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997 One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident."
This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.
Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep. I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me, it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful. For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.
"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf." If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.
Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours. Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind o ne lonely sheepdog.
The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.
Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into "warriorhood", you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference. There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.
There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: Slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself. Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.
Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.
There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men. - Edmund Burke- Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision. If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must m ake a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
For example, many police officers carry their weapons in church. They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs. Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying a weapon. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to massacre you and your loved ones.
I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, "I will never be caught without my gun in church." I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a cop he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down fourteen people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy's body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?"
Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for "heads to roll" if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids' school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them. Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones were attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?"
It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up. Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: you didn't bring your gun, you didn't train. Your only defense was wishful thinking... Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by your fear, helplessness and horror at your moment of truth.
Gavin de Becker puts it like this in "Fear Less", his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation: "...denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn't so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling." Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level. And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes. If you are warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one c an be "on" 24/7, for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself..."Baa."
This business of being a sheep or a sheep dog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from "sheephood" and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Frankenbike
It's alive....
Frame was dug up from its grave. It had been set aside awaiting insurance decision post crash. I thought it was trashed, you know, aluminum frame/carbon fork, 30 mph impact with stationary object while carrying 195 pound rider.
Bad...very bad.
A thorough inspection did find the fork bent so I guess it took the brunt of the impact. It probably helped that I released the bike at impact and accepted my fate to go over the hood with vigor and a calm coolness as if a Hollywood designed stunt. I was not so cool when I arose from the tarmac with shoulder dislocated and helmet cracked, and yet no road rash.
Anyway, back to the story. Needed a new fork. Well, the Fuji fork is in theory OK, only the frame is bad (still awaiting a call from warrantee). Rake looked about the same, though hard to tell since the Slice fork was bent. Fit nicely. A little shorter stem since the frame is a 58 vice 56. DA cranks to replace the FSA cranks that have been sent to warrantee. Oh yeah, hee hee hee, new wheels, Ksyrium ESs. Loved my original pair of Ksyrium SSLs and they served me well for years. But, they have been acting up and need a complete rebuild (which they will get and return as training/spares...or maybe CX?). The new Mavics are very nice. Strong, light, durable, reliable.
So, Frankenbike will make its debut this weekend, provided I shake my sickness. I picked up that hack from my wife after resisting her for three weeks! She finally wore me down. This AM I awoke stuffed up. Lots of H2O and OJ today.
I am racing this weekend even if I have to take a couple Tylenol Sinus on the start line and put Robitussin in my water bottles! Don't tell Dmitriy, shhhhhhh.
Frame was dug up from its grave. It had been set aside awaiting insurance decision post crash. I thought it was trashed, you know, aluminum frame/carbon fork, 30 mph impact with stationary object while carrying 195 pound rider.
Bad...very bad.
A thorough inspection did find the fork bent so I guess it took the brunt of the impact. It probably helped that I released the bike at impact and accepted my fate to go over the hood with vigor and a calm coolness as if a Hollywood designed stunt. I was not so cool when I arose from the tarmac with shoulder dislocated and helmet cracked, and yet no road rash.
Anyway, back to the story. Needed a new fork. Well, the Fuji fork is in theory OK, only the frame is bad (still awaiting a call from warrantee). Rake looked about the same, though hard to tell since the Slice fork was bent. Fit nicely. A little shorter stem since the frame is a 58 vice 56. DA cranks to replace the FSA cranks that have been sent to warrantee. Oh yeah, hee hee hee, new wheels, Ksyrium ESs. Loved my original pair of Ksyrium SSLs and they served me well for years. But, they have been acting up and need a complete rebuild (which they will get and return as training/spares...or maybe CX?). The new Mavics are very nice. Strong, light, durable, reliable.
So, Frankenbike will make its debut this weekend, provided I shake my sickness. I picked up that hack from my wife after resisting her for three weeks! She finally wore me down. This AM I awoke stuffed up. Lots of H2O and OJ today.
I am racing this weekend even if I have to take a couple Tylenol Sinus on the start line and put Robitussin in my water bottles! Don't tell Dmitriy, shhhhhhh.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Look How Big My Phanny Is
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
It's Alive
You all know my second Fuji died.
You might remember me talking about the Cannondale I was riding when a car pulled out in front of me. I t-boned it doing 30mph.
The Calfee, a great ride, but not stiff enough. Flexed the frame in a sprint so much the chain fell off the outside of the 53...twice.
So, I have created Frankenbike...ha, ha, ha....it's alive!
You might remember me talking about the Cannondale I was riding when a car pulled out in front of me. I t-boned it doing 30mph.
The Calfee, a great ride, but not stiff enough. Flexed the frame in a sprint so much the chain fell off the outside of the 53...twice.
So, I have created Frankenbike...ha, ha, ha....it's alive!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Inconvenient Hypocrisy
So, I went to see the movie. I was moved. I will do my best to change. The scientific evidence is indisputable. But, when I read things like this...it makes me wonder how bad is it really? Maybe it is time for Al to put his money where his mouth is?
Al, you made me a believer. Now convince me that you are!
The world must embrace a "carbon-neutral lifestyle." To do otherwise, he says, will result in a cataclysmic catastrophe. "Humanity is sitting on a ticking time bomb," warns the website for his film, An Inconvenient Truth. "We have just 10 years to avert a major catastrophe that could send our entire planet into a tailspin."
Public records reveal that as Gore lectures Americans on excessive consumption, he and his wife Tipper live in two properties: a 10,000-square-foot, 20-room, eight-bathroom home in Nashville, and a 4,000-square-foot home in Arlington, Va. (He also has a third home in Carthage,Tenn.)
Then there is the troubling matter of his energy use. In the Washington, D.C., area, utility companies offer wind energy as an alternative to traditional energy. In Nashville, similar programs exist. Utility customers must simply pay a few extra pennies per kilowatt hour, and they can continue living their carbon-neutral lifestyles knowing that they are supporting wind energy.
But according to public records, there is no evidence that Gore has signed up to use green energy in either of his large residences. When contacted Wednesday, Gore's office confirmed as much but said the Gores were looking into making the switch at both homes.
As executor of his family's trust, over the years Gore has controlled hundreds of thousands of dollars in Oxy stock. Oxy has been mired in controversy over oil drilling in ecologically sensitive areas.
Gore receives $20,000 a year in royalties from Pasminco Zinc, which operates a zinc concession on his property. Tennessee has cited the company for adding large quantities of barium, iron and zinc to the nearby Caney Fork River.
The issue here is not simply Gore's hypocrisy; it's a question of credibility. If he genuinely believes the apocalyptic vision he has put forth and calls for radical changes in the way other people live, why hasn't he made any radical change in his life? Giving up the zinc mine or one of his homes is not asking much, given that he wants the rest of us to radically change our lives.
Al, you made me a believer. Now convince me that you are!
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Coffee Snob? Who Me?
Nearly all of the coffee out there is stale. The good news is that stale coffee is drinkable if you've never had truly fresh coffee. The bad news is that once you've tasted truly fresh coffee, you'll be forever hooked. It will make you giddy every time you go to make a pot. Tingle right down to your toes. Reverberate around your head like a funky aura. That's because coffee, just a few days out of the roaster, is nature's most flavorful drink - more complex than even wine - containing well over 900 flavor compounds to dance on your taste buds. But after a few weeks, you'd be lucky to see half that number.I knew it! Giddy, tingle, reverberate...and you thought it was just the caffeine
How do you know if coffee is stale? Simple test: If it's bitter or flat, it's too late. Coffee is actually known by connoisseurs as a 'sweet' beverage. But shush... you're not supposed to know that. And who doesn't want you to know? Coffee companies who make their living on convenience. And yes, believing that freshness is as simple as 'burping' air out of a coffee container, is convenient. Truly fresh coffee is a pain because you have to order it frequently.
THIS HAS NOT BEEN A PAID ADVERTISEMENT
Hillary's "Presidential Busts?"
A "presidential bust" of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton was unveiled Wednesday at New York's Museum of Sex, where sculptor Daniel Edwards hopes it will spark discussion about sex, politics and celebrity.
Please re-veil it....please!Edwards said his work features a soft "presidential smile" and wrinkles
framing her eyes. A floral pattern runs across her breasts, part of Edwards'
effort to present Clinton "as a woman — not a covered-up person, but as a
woman."
Click for related content
"I didn't want to give
her a face lift or change her age," he said of his work."The key was to reveal her chest a little bit. She usually covers herself up,
but I don't think that's necessary."
On a lighter note...
Another New York Times piece notes how Sen. Hillary Clinton's first major day of campaigning for re-election was dominated by the news of Lieberman's primary loss. "'I think there is a great deal of difference,'' Mrs. Clinton told reporters ... after being asked to distinguish her position on the Iraq war from Mr. Lieberman's. 'I have been a consistent critic from the beginning,''
But....not until after she supported it.
To the disappointment of some antiwar liberals in her Democratic base, Clinton, the former first lady, voted in favor of the Iraq war resolution in October 2002.
Things that make you say hmmmmm.....
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Signs, signs....
I meant to post this last week but forgot....but, yesterday while I was riding several of the songs played again and reminded me.
So, a day of climbing. Went a little hard the day before but, I was by myself and I was in no hurry. Supposed to go up Page Mill with HR above 90%.
That shouldn't be hard....right? I can ride a 60 minute crit at 90%. Somehow, though, it is much more difficult to go that hard that long without the motivation of a race or the adrenaline from the dueling in the pack.
Warm-up on the way. Legs not feeling great. Damn, forgot to change the cassette...11-23 for Page Mill, not ideal and certainly won't be able to "spin" up.
I got to the first hills and just didn't feel good. I started making all kinds of excuses and was pondering thoughts of going back down and just doing a flat ride along Foothill Expy (even kidded myself about doing some intervals).
Then, The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Aeroplane started playing....do you know it?
I had to keep going!
Then Seal, Bring It On started
Then Bush's Machinehead
You get the picture...
So, I made it to the top, maybe not as fast as I would have liked and maybe not at 90% HR....but, I didn't quit!
And guess what song started as I turned the corner onto Skyline?
So, a day of climbing. Went a little hard the day before but, I was by myself and I was in no hurry. Supposed to go up Page Mill with HR above 90%.
That shouldn't be hard....right? I can ride a 60 minute crit at 90%. Somehow, though, it is much more difficult to go that hard that long without the motivation of a race or the adrenaline from the dueling in the pack.
Warm-up on the way. Legs not feeling great. Damn, forgot to change the cassette...11-23 for Page Mill, not ideal and certainly won't be able to "spin" up.
I got to the first hills and just didn't feel good. I started making all kinds of excuses and was pondering thoughts of going back down and just doing a flat ride along Foothill Expy (even kidded myself about doing some intervals).
Then, The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Aeroplane started playing....do you know it?
I like pleasure spiked with pain and music is my aeroplane,
It's my aeroplane,
Songbird sweet and sour Jane and music is my aeroplane,
It's my aeroplane
pleasure spiked with pain,
that motherfuckers always spiked with pain.
Looking in my own eyes (hey lord),
I can't find the love I want,
Someone better slap me,
Before I start to rust,
Before I start to decompose,
Looking in my rear view mirror,
Looking in my rear view mirror,
I can make it disappear,
I can make it disappear (have no fear)
I had to keep going!
Then Seal, Bring It On started
Bring it on
At first I didn't have the will to carry on
Illusions in my mind
Like that picture when you feel you can't go on
Like you've been left behind
Life goes on, now
Take me to that funky place where you and I were born.
Carry on, now
Psychedlic tendencies of love will bring it on
Bring it on
Bring it on, Bring it on
Don't wait until tomorrow
Then Bush's Machinehead
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in
Tied to a wheel, our fingers got to feel
Bleeding through a tourniquet smile
Spinning on a whim, a slide to the right
I felt you like electric light
For our love
For our fear
For our rise against the years and years and years
You get the picture...
So, I made it to the top, maybe not as fast as I would have liked and maybe not at 90% HR....but, I didn't quit!
And guess what song started as I turned the corner onto Skyline?
It's a beautiful day, the sky fallsIsn't it great how music can motivate you and take your mind to a place so you can ignore the pain coursing through your body!
And you feel like it's a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
You’re on the road but you’ve got no destination
You’re in the mud, in the maze of her imagination
You love this town even if that doesn’t ring true
You’ve been all over and it’s been all over you
It's a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
It's a beautiful day
Fruit, fruit, good for the heart...
So, we've got these fruit trees in our yard. They are loaded with fruit. We have red plums and yellow plums. They are actually very good. I have never before picked fruit directly off a tree and eaten it.
But, who needs 10 plum trees?
The dogs, unfortunately have also discovered the delicious sweet red and yellow fruits. Some of the branches were so full they could no longer support their own weight and touched the ground. So, Phanny was able to eat fresh fruit, picked directly off the tree as well.
It was time to do something. I cut three huge branches off the trees. And then I picked the fruit that looked like it would be touching each other after fully grown. And I picked, and picked, and picked, got a ladder and picked, climbed into one tree and picked.
I filled this trash can FOUR times with plums and still didn't get it all. At first I picked and dropped in the can. Too hard. So, I just picked and dropped on the ground to be picked up when I finished.
I swear the dogs thought they were in heaven. They sat at the bottom of the hill, let the fruit roll down to them, and ate as quickly as they could. I think they got their fill though because both stopped and took a nap.
You know what happens when you eat too many plums...imagine that for two dogs. Oh boy am I in trouble if Phanny (the Phantom Menace) keeps eating plums even after she grows to 120lbs.
But, who needs 10 plum trees?
The dogs, unfortunately have also discovered the delicious sweet red and yellow fruits. Some of the branches were so full they could no longer support their own weight and touched the ground. So, Phanny was able to eat fresh fruit, picked directly off the tree as well.
It was time to do something. I cut three huge branches off the trees. And then I picked the fruit that looked like it would be touching each other after fully grown. And I picked, and picked, and picked, got a ladder and picked, climbed into one tree and picked.
I filled this trash can FOUR times with plums and still didn't get it all. At first I picked and dropped in the can. Too hard. So, I just picked and dropped on the ground to be picked up when I finished.
I swear the dogs thought they were in heaven. They sat at the bottom of the hill, let the fruit roll down to them, and ate as quickly as they could. I think they got their fill though because both stopped and took a nap.
You know what happens when you eat too many plums...imagine that for two dogs. Oh boy am I in trouble if Phanny (the Phantom Menace) keeps eating plums even after she grows to 120lbs.
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