
A historian, former ceremonial bugler, and Marylander (like Your Humble Narrator) explains the origins of “Taps.”

A historian, former ceremonial bugler, and Marylander (like Your Humble Narrator) explains the origins of “Taps.”

It was already 70° when I got up at 6 and the sky looked wrong.
The wind spent the night blowing things open, over, around, and down. It wasn’t the usual thundering roar, reminiscent of life in a 9-by-40 singlewide next to the railroad tracks; more like a conversation at the next table that you’re trying not to hear.
“No, no, no. First, you cut off the head. Then the arms and legs. Bag ’em up separate. Easier to carry.”
Last night’s eclipse, which we could not see, was accompanied by a “Health Alert Due to Blowing Dust,” which we could.
We had forgotten to turn on the bedroom humidifier before retiring, and when I arose my snout was having flashbacks to the glorious days when my friends and I supercharged our Saturday nights (and occasionally Sunday mornings) with a blend of Russian vodka and Peruvian marching powder.
The Duck! City hasn’t updated its air-quality widget since Friday, so I lack the deets. But I’m certainly getting the general drift of things. It’s not a great day to be a woodland firefighter, for instance. That big mother up by Las Vegas is only getting bigger, and it’s got a few smaller ones to keep it company.
Here’s NMFireInfo:
Dry thunderstorms in the afternoon will likely cause very active fire behavior and increase potential for fire spread. The fire is expected to remain active, with critically dry fuels and near-record temperatures.
Oh, good. I can’t wait for Memorial Day weekend. Where the fireworks stands at? FreeDumb®, etc.

Call me a weirdo. …
“You’re a weirdo!”
Very funny.
But whatever you call me, I couldn’t care less about the “Friends” reunion making “Top Stories” queues worldwide; I have absolutely zero interest in what Paul “Lyin'” Ryan has to say about a flim-flam man he doesn’t have the stones to call out by name; and I am definitely not celebrating the first “post-plague” Memorial Day weekend by joining 37 million of my fellow Americans in motoring around the nation with gas prices at a peak not seen since 2014.
Vegas? Orlando? Seriously? You want to get me near Sin City or Disney World at three smacks per gallon, Skeeter, you’re gonna need a bigger sneeze shield. I’m thinking an all-encompassing dome, something a little green fella can use to sight in the old laser cannon, ack ack ack.
I’d watch that shit all day long. But I ain’t watching no “Friends” reunion. Ain’t a laser cannon big enough, not in this galaxy or any other.

You can’t spell “Memorial Day” without “me.”
The other night we revisited one of the great plague movies, Terry Gilliam’s “12 Monkeys.” A line delivered by Jeffrey Goines (Brad Pitt) has long been a favorite observation around El Rancho Pendejo:
“There’s no right, there’s no wrong, there’s only popular opinion.”
How do I feel about something? What’s in it for me? If enough people think the way I do, it must be Truth, yeah?
So count me among the unsurprised when I see people packing Maryland’s Ocean City boardwalk, standing shoulder to shoulder in pools at Missouri’s Lake of the Ozarks, or crowding around some tool tossing money from a car in Daytona Beach, Fla.
“Disney’s closed, Universal’s closed, everything’s closed. So where did everybody come? On the first warm day with 50 percent opening, everybody came to the beach,” Volusia County Sheriff Mike Chitwood told CBS Miami.
It practically goes without saying that Il Douche spent the weekend tweeting like a fat orange budgie on Adderall and urging Americans to go to church while he air-mailed divots to Jesus from one of his own golf courses. Dude brings a whole new meaning to the term “a bad lie.”
What does surprise me is that no matter who is “in charge,” or whether the enemy du jour is a Saudi with a box cutter, a highly communicable disease, or some other threat most Americans have never seen, some of us continue volunteering for and serving in the armed forces, or signing up for less celebrated duty at emergency rooms, cop shops, nursing homes, fire departments, pharmacies, sewage treatment plants, grocery stores, appliance-repair shops, hardware stores, restaurants, and delivery services.
I’m guessing that a lot of these folks would rather the customers hadn’t spent the Memorial Day weekend playing Beach Booger Bingo with a few thousand of their closest friends.
But hey, what do I know? There’s no right, there’s no wrong. …

Remember the war in Afghanistan?
Some folks would prefer that you didn’t. Or at least remained blissfully ignorant about its purpose and progress.
As Tom Udall and Rand Paul noted in an essay for The Atlantic, starting this fall American soldiers will begin deploying to fight in a war “that began before they were born.”
They, along with their friends, family and neighbors, may not understand just what they’re getting into, because the U.S. military command in Afghanistan has gone all tight-lipped on just what — if anything — it is accomplishing there.
This concerns the U.S. special inspector general for Afghanistan reconstruction, John F. Sopko, who told The New York Times that while he and many members of Congress had access to illuminating classified information, the rest of us were being treated like a cash crop of mushrooms, being kept in the dark and fed a steady diet of bullshit.
“The only people who don’t know what’s going on and how good or bad a job we’re doing are the people paying for it — the American taxpayers,” he said.

The brass hats seem happy to gin up some numbers to keep the easily distracted President Beelzebonespur in the game. In January 2018, according to the Times, the military began announcing Vietnam-style body counts “as part of an apparent strategy to rally White House support for remaining in the conflict.”
The practice ended abruptly when the Times started asking questions about it.
There’s a certain irony in using a dubious metric from a war dodged by the present commander in chief to hold his wavering interest in this one. Especially since shortly after his inauguration, according to the Times, a special-ops unit was told to prepare for a number of missions deemed too risky by the previous administration.
Again, the Times: “The commander of the unit, according to one American commando who was at the briefing, said the operations were meant to show Mr. Trump what they were capable of achieving in Afghanistan.”
This took me back to “Dispatches,” by the late Michael Herr, who recalled an encounter with a publicity-hungry commander when the Esquire correspondent, Sean Flynn and Tim Page choppered into a landing zone in Vietnam.
Wrote Herr: “(H)e wanted to throw a spontaneous operation for us, crank up his whole brigade and get some people killed. We had to get out on the next chopper to keep him from going ahead with it, amazing what some of them would do for a little ink.”
And the sales pitch continues. We still owe on this beat-to-shit 2001 Afghanistan — $45 billion per year, according to the Pentagon — and now they’re trying to get us into a brand-new 2019 Iran. We can give the ’01 to the kids, I guess.
Aw, who are we kidding? The kids will get both of them. And the rest of us will stick plastic flags in our planters, fire up the grill, and wonder idly if there’s anything good on TV. Hey, there’s a 24-hour Memorial Day tribute on TCM! Score!
• Mad Dog Media thinks the best way to honor those who serve is to equip them with top-shelf civilian leadership and bring them home.