Monday, March 31, 2003

Big rib dinner Saturday night from the Rib Crib on Germantown Avenue. While waiting, I read the local shopper newspaper for that neighborhood, which is almost entirely African American. One column was from a seriously undermedicated gentleman ranting about "AmeriKKKa" and the imperialist war yadda yadda. Below it was a new story about a local 20 year old who is fighting in Iraq, and how proud everyone who knew him was. The juxtaposition was very odd.

Our friend who was a Special Forces sniper in Vietnam had several adult beverages and started telling stories. Ed is still bitter about the war--he describes seeing B-52s flying out over Cam Ranh Bay and dumping their ordnance in the water, because daily quotas of bombs had to be "used." But his sniper stories are always vivid and compelling, and then he was talking about Carlos Hathcock for a while. There are lots of people who go around making stuff up about Vietnam, but Ed isn't one of them. One night, in the hooch together, Carlos asked him if he smoked his rounds. Ed was baffled until Carlos explained that he turned his oil lamp up high and sooted up his bullets so that they would be even less reflective. Reflections are death to the sniper.

Sunday was brunch with friends from the BC&S. A wonderful time as always. Ramses, Peter Wiggin, heatherfeather (much more talkative than last time, but just as sweet), Teri77, and XO were there. It took place at the near-Stalinist venue of the White Dog Cafe in the University City section of Philadelphia. But the food is so damn good that I ignore the politics of the place. I had the grits with shrimp--fabulous.

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