A climate accord was recently signed in Paris. All sorts of countries promised to do all sorts of things to help combat global warming and all of the other countries pretended to believe them. It was announced as a staggering success and indeed it was. Thousands of delegates sat down and hammered out agreements nobody is going to follow and argued furiously about exactly what is was that they were going to pretend to do. So now the world is officially saved and we can all go back to sleep.
Um, ok wake up now, apparently we need to talk about mangroves. This is what an article said on The Sydney Morning Herald's website today. Furthermore this conversation should involve a little more than bitching about how smelly, humid and mosquito ridden they are. It is fair to say that mangroves don't have great press. However apparently when they aren't reeking up the joint and facilitating disease mangroves are our unsung climate warriors.
Mangroves apparently hold vast stocks of "blue" carbon. Blue carbon is like black carbon only bluer. Coastal wetlands lock up massive amounts of carbon (designated blue presumably to indicate that its difficult to run a power station on it) which would otherwise go to less helpful places like the atmosphere. Environment hating psychopaths who prefer marinas, seaside resorts and their children not dying of malaria are sweeping mangroves away. This is bad. Well its bad for the mangroves obviously but it might also be bad for us as everytime we do so apparently we are unleashing hordes of blue carbon onto an already suffering world.
More study is needed to determine exactly how much carbon the wetlands are storing and how this should be factored into the planet saving activities that we won't be getting up to as a result of the Paris conference. While figures are rubbery at the moment initial indications are that mangroves are the ultimate carbon storage system. If we covered the planet in mangroves the only climate change we would have to worry about is ice ages and presumably we could fix that by burning some of them.
Sadly there's a problem. Mangroves, sea grasses and the like are simultaneously aesthetically displeasing and situated on land that would be highly desirable if it wasn't for all the damn mangroves and sea grass. As a result mangroves and sea grass are swiftly vanishing from the world's surface. An expert from UTS claims that developed and developing countries have destroyed their coastal habitats. If you exclude developed and developing countries from any list I don't actually think you have anything left. So the mangrove situation is parlous to say the least.
Let me be the first to issue a clarion call for the mangroves survival. Compared with most of the stuff we're supposed to do to save the planet putting up with a handful of stinking swamps seems pretty cheap and easy really. I'm doing my part. I live near the Cooks River, a handsome waterway flowing through southern Sydney. It reeks like an open sewer and the principal decoration on the riverbanks are signs warning you not to eat any fish you might catch there. It is tidal and, yes folks, there are mangroves. Not many as the suburbs have encroached as close as they dare but some. So far despite the smell and the presence of mosquitos in squadrons I have resisted the temptation to take an axe to a single tree.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Birthday Greetings #54
Happy birthday to Nero, Roman emperor. Nero was everything an emperor should be with dissolute parties, poisonings, extravagant building plans, conspiracies, revolts being crushed all over the place (although not, significantly, the last one) tortures, persecutions and all of the other stuff that makes for really great history. Certainly the historians of the time really went to town and the general impression is of Nero as a vicious, self indulgent wastrel.
But was this the truth? Who cares? It's fun. If we rehabilitate Nero we'd have to do Attila the Hun next. According to the same historians who tell us he was a monster we learn that his mother was a manipulative psychopath as well. This charmer (by the name of Agrippina the Younger) married the then emperor Claudius and persuaded him to adopt Nero, her son from an earlier marriage. Claudius was also Nero's great uncle so there was already a family tie there of sorts.
Claudius died (poisoned by Agrippina according to Suetonius) and with his natural son being well under age his adoptive son Nero was proclaimed emperor. His three closest advisors were his mother (poisoner), Seneca (philosopher, author, loan shark and sleazebag) and Burrus (praetorian prefect and thug). All of these three had their talents but spent most of their time arguing with each other (although Burrus and Seneca were united in advising Nero to watch out for his mother).
As time went by Nero listened to his mother less. She responded in a mature and sensible way; she cultivated Britannicus (the natural son of Claudius) now reaching his majority in the hopes of having him proclaimed as emperor in Nero's place. Nero had learnt Mother's lessons well however and Britannicus died of a sudden attack of poison. A few years later after she apparently found someone else to promote to the throne Nero had his mother murdered as well. A fancy, collapsible boat was created designed to fall apart as Agrippina was being transported home unfortunately nobody bothered to check if she could swim. When she emerged from the waters dripping and furious Nero had no choice but to send in the praetorians with sharp implements. It was dressed up as suicide.
Meanwhile Burrus died (surprisingly of natural causes) and Seneca (facing embezzlement charges) withdrew into private life; after being implicated in a plot against Nero he withdrew into private death. Nero was on his own. On the one hand promoting the arts and athletic competitions is certainly not a bad thing. He won a war with Parthia (well his generals did but he got the credit) and a revolt in Britain was crushed. He toured Greece, participated in the Olympic Games and returned to Rome loaded with prizes he hadn't earned. Certain tax exemptions and a promotion of the theatre gained popularity. On the other hand the murders kept coming and while a certain amount of hanging out in brothels and sleeping with the wives of your subordinates was considered de rigeur Nero took it to slightly ridiculous lengths. He also performed on stage which was shocking, demeaning to his office and apparently he wasn't very good.
Having ditched the wife his mother foisted on him he took up with another wife. Specifically Poppaea was the wife of Otho, one of his mates, party companions and general hangers on. Nero packed Otho off as governor of Portugal and moved the guy's wife into the imperial palace. She later died, vicious rumours suggested Nero had kicked her in the stomache while she was pregnant. This may or may not be true but its certain Nero was devastated by her loss going so far as to castrate a slave who looked like her and marry him. Any chances that this particular union might have had a happy ending were scotched by Nero's absent minded habit of calling him Poppaea.
Then Rome burnt down. Not all of it but a considerable amount of it. This allowed rumour mongering historians to blame Nero for the conflagration. Perhaps sensing a public relations opportunity Nero was active in the rescue work and paid for a lot of disaster relief out of his own pocket. He then blew all of that popularity by spending public funds building himself a massive house on the ruins.
Sensing that he was losing the love of the people Nero blamed the fire on an obscure and rather irritating religious sect known as the Christians and had them slaughtered in creative and appalling ways. By this time everybody was sick to death of Nero's rule. It is important to note that "everybody" in this sense meant "everybody important enough to catch the attention of the historians". He retained his popularity with the masses. Unfortunately the masses didn't command legions. Way over in Judea the Jews were revolting and troops were sent to put them down. While this was going on the troops of the Rhine legions grew restive.
The governor of one of the Gallic provinces revolted, largely as a tax protest (something the Americans would do with more success several centuries later). Loyalish troops from the Rhine put down the revolt but simultaneously Galba, until then inoffensively governing Spain, claimed the throne. Support for Nero collapsed and Nero panicked. In fact had he toughed it out he may well have won or at least saved his life. As it was he seems to have had a bit of a meltdown. He ran in circles, fled Rome, returned to Rome, fled again and when a delegation from the Senate turned up to negotiate an honourable retirement he lost it completely and screwing up all of his courage (or rather, screwing up a slave's courage) got one of his retainers to run him through with a sword.
So what to make of Nero? That he was a vicious, self indulgent thug with pretensions to artistic skill seems to be pretty much agreed. Whether he was any worse than most people in that day and age is more debateable. Certainly there were some good initiatives in the early days of his reign when he still had the advice of Seneca and Burrus and its also true that the loathing and discontent of the ruling elite wasn't matched by the populace. But if you're going to be an emperor then keeping the ruling elite onside while not completely sacrificing the opinion of the mob is a circle you have to square. At this Nero failed and once he realised that he'd failed lost his shit so completely that he killed himself when he most likely didn't have to. Compared to Caligula he was probably an improvement. Compared with Vespasian or Marcus Aurelius he was a dissolute nobody playing a role. And as mentioned earlier, his acting skills sucked.
But was this the truth? Who cares? It's fun. If we rehabilitate Nero we'd have to do Attila the Hun next. According to the same historians who tell us he was a monster we learn that his mother was a manipulative psychopath as well. This charmer (by the name of Agrippina the Younger) married the then emperor Claudius and persuaded him to adopt Nero, her son from an earlier marriage. Claudius was also Nero's great uncle so there was already a family tie there of sorts.
Claudius died (poisoned by Agrippina according to Suetonius) and with his natural son being well under age his adoptive son Nero was proclaimed emperor. His three closest advisors were his mother (poisoner), Seneca (philosopher, author, loan shark and sleazebag) and Burrus (praetorian prefect and thug). All of these three had their talents but spent most of their time arguing with each other (although Burrus and Seneca were united in advising Nero to watch out for his mother).
As time went by Nero listened to his mother less. She responded in a mature and sensible way; she cultivated Britannicus (the natural son of Claudius) now reaching his majority in the hopes of having him proclaimed as emperor in Nero's place. Nero had learnt Mother's lessons well however and Britannicus died of a sudden attack of poison. A few years later after she apparently found someone else to promote to the throne Nero had his mother murdered as well. A fancy, collapsible boat was created designed to fall apart as Agrippina was being transported home unfortunately nobody bothered to check if she could swim. When she emerged from the waters dripping and furious Nero had no choice but to send in the praetorians with sharp implements. It was dressed up as suicide.
Meanwhile Burrus died (surprisingly of natural causes) and Seneca (facing embezzlement charges) withdrew into private life; after being implicated in a plot against Nero he withdrew into private death. Nero was on his own. On the one hand promoting the arts and athletic competitions is certainly not a bad thing. He won a war with Parthia (well his generals did but he got the credit) and a revolt in Britain was crushed. He toured Greece, participated in the Olympic Games and returned to Rome loaded with prizes he hadn't earned. Certain tax exemptions and a promotion of the theatre gained popularity. On the other hand the murders kept coming and while a certain amount of hanging out in brothels and sleeping with the wives of your subordinates was considered de rigeur Nero took it to slightly ridiculous lengths. He also performed on stage which was shocking, demeaning to his office and apparently he wasn't very good.
Having ditched the wife his mother foisted on him he took up with another wife. Specifically Poppaea was the wife of Otho, one of his mates, party companions and general hangers on. Nero packed Otho off as governor of Portugal and moved the guy's wife into the imperial palace. She later died, vicious rumours suggested Nero had kicked her in the stomache while she was pregnant. This may or may not be true but its certain Nero was devastated by her loss going so far as to castrate a slave who looked like her and marry him. Any chances that this particular union might have had a happy ending were scotched by Nero's absent minded habit of calling him Poppaea.
Then Rome burnt down. Not all of it but a considerable amount of it. This allowed rumour mongering historians to blame Nero for the conflagration. Perhaps sensing a public relations opportunity Nero was active in the rescue work and paid for a lot of disaster relief out of his own pocket. He then blew all of that popularity by spending public funds building himself a massive house on the ruins.
Sensing that he was losing the love of the people Nero blamed the fire on an obscure and rather irritating religious sect known as the Christians and had them slaughtered in creative and appalling ways. By this time everybody was sick to death of Nero's rule. It is important to note that "everybody" in this sense meant "everybody important enough to catch the attention of the historians". He retained his popularity with the masses. Unfortunately the masses didn't command legions. Way over in Judea the Jews were revolting and troops were sent to put them down. While this was going on the troops of the Rhine legions grew restive.
The governor of one of the Gallic provinces revolted, largely as a tax protest (something the Americans would do with more success several centuries later). Loyalish troops from the Rhine put down the revolt but simultaneously Galba, until then inoffensively governing Spain, claimed the throne. Support for Nero collapsed and Nero panicked. In fact had he toughed it out he may well have won or at least saved his life. As it was he seems to have had a bit of a meltdown. He ran in circles, fled Rome, returned to Rome, fled again and when a delegation from the Senate turned up to negotiate an honourable retirement he lost it completely and screwing up all of his courage (or rather, screwing up a slave's courage) got one of his retainers to run him through with a sword.
So what to make of Nero? That he was a vicious, self indulgent thug with pretensions to artistic skill seems to be pretty much agreed. Whether he was any worse than most people in that day and age is more debateable. Certainly there were some good initiatives in the early days of his reign when he still had the advice of Seneca and Burrus and its also true that the loathing and discontent of the ruling elite wasn't matched by the populace. But if you're going to be an emperor then keeping the ruling elite onside while not completely sacrificing the opinion of the mob is a circle you have to square. At this Nero failed and once he realised that he'd failed lost his shit so completely that he killed himself when he most likely didn't have to. Compared to Caligula he was probably an improvement. Compared with Vespasian or Marcus Aurelius he was a dissolute nobody playing a role. And as mentioned earlier, his acting skills sucked.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Silly After Action Report Part 2 - In Which the Predictable Becomes the Inevitable
So with hope in my heart and a song on my lips (or possibly a song in my heart and hope on my lips) I resumed battle. We started with Ivan's turn 4 which saw his troops slinking away from their flashing eyed Japanese foes and finding holes to hide in. The only ones who couldn't slink off were the broken units stuck out in the open and I took a sadistic delight in slaughtering these with my defensive fire. Since time was short I needed to amass victory points swiftly and that was four gained for no more effort than shooting. Ivan also moved his half track around to the east of the board so its 75mm could cover the approach my troops were obviously going to use. I had seized his 37mm anti tank gun in the rally phase and more for laughs than anything else I shot at the half track as it went by. I didn't hit it but the number was so low that I could feel Ivan sweating over Skype.
 |
| End of Turn 4. Ivan has pulled back and I'm about to start my despairing run. |
Ivan's redeployment tightened up his position and solidified his position in the village. I would have to punch him out of it and here is where two things conspired against me. Firstly, having dawdled in the beginning I was short of time and would thus have to take risks and secondly my inability to harm his flank defenders in the slightest meant that what I originally intended as a flanking manoeuvre would now unpleasantly resemble a headlong dash into the teeth of his defences.
Firstly I wanted a little more smoke to protect my advance, I turned to my trusty mortar who chose this moment to reveal that he had donated his smoke rounds to a children's party. I had another mortar but he was not in a useful position. Still, having decided to bite the bullet I moved out. Over on the right I slid troops through the trees and kunai until I was adjacent to one of his squads. In the centre I pushed troops down the road and over the roadblock taking advantage of the cover provided by a merrily burning halftrack (remember that?) in doing so. I sidled up to one of the victory buildings and somehow survived the defensive fire and prepared to advance in. I had decided to try and mince my way through in close combat. To put it bluntly my guys ran out in the open and charged towards buildings and jungle occupied by enemy soldiers. If this sounds stupid that's because it was but I was running out of time. Soon I would be running out of troops. Before that happened though I gained a minor victory on the far left where my mortar finally broke a half squad that had been guarding the flank all game. My accompanying squad galloped forward and killed it for failure to rout, another victory point to me which was countered when the 75mm on his halftrack reduced one of my squads to a red smear on the earth.
 |
| Here two close combats rage, both of which would result in disaster. |
Uttering a prayer to the dice gods I launched my guys into close combat. The dice gods are bastards!
I failed to inflict any injuries on his force and in return he killed a squad and a half of mine. I fired into both melees in my next fire phase resulting in a pin on one of his squads. On the other a morale check resulted in Ivan getting heat of battle which resulted in fanaticism and hero creation. Because he wasn't doing well enough already apparently. My personal morale collapsed at this point. My spearpoint had been shattered and I would now have to do exactly the same thing again with my surviving troops only now against better opponents.
Two interesting things happened in Ivan's turn, attempting to shore up his last line of defence he dashed a squad and mmg across a road in full view of one of my surviving squads. My dice roll was low and it was Ivan's turn to wash some of his casualties off the street. The other was the blessed malfunctioning of his damn 75mm gun which had created carnage up until that point. At least now my guys would only be hit by small calibre weapons. Or smallish, there was still a .50cal machine gun out there somewhere. I assumed it would be in the church steeple (wrong)and I attempted to make its job of hitting me harder by dropping some smoke. My other mortar came up trumps and a beautiful smoke cloud billowed over his troops. The very next turn on the weather check I rolled up gusts and blew it all away, so much for the cover.
Things were now desperate, that is they were more desperate than they had been a short while ago. Somehow I managed to move more troops into close combat with his newly fanaticised troops over on the right while some desperate running down the street resulted in more deaths but also placed squads near a couple of victory buildings. At which point Ivan revealed his .50cal not in the church steeple but in a building right next door to where one of my squads had just arrived, panting and lathered with sweat. Just to prove that the dice gods are equal opportunity bastards Ivan promptly broke the thing with his first shot and it took no more part in the game.
Not that there was much of the game left. I did finally manage to seize one of the victory buildings (the one next to the blaze) but in the close combat to the east Ivan rolled snakes and not only killed more of my troops but added an 8-0 officer to his hero and fanatic squad. If I'd attacked one more time he would probably have wound up with a tank. But there was no more attacking, I was done. I had in total about six squads left of the thirteen I had started with. I had killed some units and captured a building but the price had been far too high and the rest of the village was beyond the grasp of my remaining troops. With one turn to go I conceded.
In retrospect two things contributed to my defeat. I was far too cautious at the beginning which meant I was slow in getting up near the village. This put me under time pressure. The other was my absolute inability to deal with his flanking troops. It was never my intention to charge straight up the middle but rather ease around a flank. With his flanks solid I had to attack frontally and naturally paid a horrible price in doing so.
Thanks to Ivan for the game, next time I swear I'm going to get you even if I have to make a human sacrifice to the dice gods. On that note I think I might invite my brother over for "tea".
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
I Want A Day
I'm sitting here under a fine coating of pumice stone. This means I've either been ground zero for an unambitious volcano or I've been to the dentist.
For an hour or so I lay in a chair while a cheerful, chatty woman bombarded my innocent teeth with pulverised rock. As a side effect a fair amount of the upper part of my body is covered with grey dust. I resemble a slightly animated inhabitant of Pompeii. Thanks to this avalanche writ small I now have gleamy, clean teeth. Or at least half my teeth are gleamy clean. The other half are the shabby mess they've always been.
If she had cleaned alternate teeth I would have at least had a symmetrical pattern happening but instead she did one side of my mouth and left it at that. The result is that my mouth feels somewhat lopsided. On the positive side apart from a couple of holes and general neglect my actual teeth are in moderately goodish condition.
My mouth may be lopsided now but when the other half of my teeth are cleaned I will apparently possess a mouth of unparalleled beauty. Or I would do if it weren't for the fact that my next dental appointment isn't for a month so by the time the other side gets cleaned the first lot will be back to their usual shabby state. Thus I am doomed to spend the rest of my life with a lopsided mouth.
I won't play on my newfound disability too much. I won't park in disabled parking spots or apply for welfare. I will, of course, expect preferential treatment in restaurants and for people to give up their seat to me on the train. That seems only fair. Those of us who suffer from Lopsided Mouth Syndrome (LMS) are the modern day's tragic heroes. We nobly bear our disability and ask for very little in return.
Sadly the lack of awareness of LMS means that I and my fellow sufferers (I presume there are some) are frequently the target of abuse by the ignorant and misinformed. More than once some doddering pensioner or pregnant woman has responded with hostility when I demand their seat on a bus. Several restaurant owners point blank refuse to accept my right to priority seating, churlishly demanding that I make a reservation and be prepared to pay the bill. Even the police are unsympathetic, moving me along everytime I try to raise money for LMS by appealing to the kindness of people in the street.
To combat such blatant prejudice I've written to the United Nations demanding a day to raise awareness for LMS and SBS has approached me in relation to a fifteen part documentary about the difficulties of living with LMS. At least I think that was what it was about, it was a little difficult to understand the person on the other end of the phone. Most importantly of all I have produced our very own coloured ribbon to hand out to people at railway stations and intersections. Its a sort of off yellow colour with brown streaks.
With a UN day and a coloured ribbon to pin to our clothing I think everyone would agree that there is simply nothing more to be done to assist sufferers of LMS and that all I have to do now is sit back and wait for the good times to be hand delivered to my door. Which explains why I took the rest of the day off.
For an hour or so I lay in a chair while a cheerful, chatty woman bombarded my innocent teeth with pulverised rock. As a side effect a fair amount of the upper part of my body is covered with grey dust. I resemble a slightly animated inhabitant of Pompeii. Thanks to this avalanche writ small I now have gleamy, clean teeth. Or at least half my teeth are gleamy clean. The other half are the shabby mess they've always been.
If she had cleaned alternate teeth I would have at least had a symmetrical pattern happening but instead she did one side of my mouth and left it at that. The result is that my mouth feels somewhat lopsided. On the positive side apart from a couple of holes and general neglect my actual teeth are in moderately goodish condition.
My mouth may be lopsided now but when the other half of my teeth are cleaned I will apparently possess a mouth of unparalleled beauty. Or I would do if it weren't for the fact that my next dental appointment isn't for a month so by the time the other side gets cleaned the first lot will be back to their usual shabby state. Thus I am doomed to spend the rest of my life with a lopsided mouth.
I won't play on my newfound disability too much. I won't park in disabled parking spots or apply for welfare. I will, of course, expect preferential treatment in restaurants and for people to give up their seat to me on the train. That seems only fair. Those of us who suffer from Lopsided Mouth Syndrome (LMS) are the modern day's tragic heroes. We nobly bear our disability and ask for very little in return.
Sadly the lack of awareness of LMS means that I and my fellow sufferers (I presume there are some) are frequently the target of abuse by the ignorant and misinformed. More than once some doddering pensioner or pregnant woman has responded with hostility when I demand their seat on a bus. Several restaurant owners point blank refuse to accept my right to priority seating, churlishly demanding that I make a reservation and be prepared to pay the bill. Even the police are unsympathetic, moving me along everytime I try to raise money for LMS by appealing to the kindness of people in the street.
To combat such blatant prejudice I've written to the United Nations demanding a day to raise awareness for LMS and SBS has approached me in relation to a fifteen part documentary about the difficulties of living with LMS. At least I think that was what it was about, it was a little difficult to understand the person on the other end of the phone. Most importantly of all I have produced our very own coloured ribbon to hand out to people at railway stations and intersections. Its a sort of off yellow colour with brown streaks.
With a UN day and a coloured ribbon to pin to our clothing I think everyone would agree that there is simply nothing more to be done to assist sufferers of LMS and that all I have to do now is sit back and wait for the good times to be hand delivered to my door. Which explains why I took the rest of the day off.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Have You Done Your Anti-Corruption Day Shopping?
Following hard on the heels of Love Your Lawyer Day comes its ideological twin. The United Nations has announced that December 9th will be Anti-Corruption Day. That's right quinoa got an entire year but anti-corruption gets twenty four hours.
For those of you who can't help thinking that the UN promoting Anti-Corruption Day is rather like hyenas promoting Anti-Scavenger Day I would respectfully point out that this is the same organisation that put Cuba, Kazakhstan and Saudi Arabia on its human rights commission. For those of you who think that western civilisation is the source of all evil in the world I might just mention that the USA and the UK are members too so no matter what your ideological bent the human rights commission has something to disgust everybody.
Anti Corruption Day is being sponsored (if that's the right word) by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Organised Crime. I didn't realise that the UN had such a body and I must admit I fail to see its point. Drug trafficking and organised crime have been flourishing for years, I'm sure they don't need the assistance of the UN. Nevertheless its good to see them raising awareness about corruption.
This is what the day is all about, raising awareness. Essentially it is a UN organised shout out; "Hey! Corruption happens! And, on balance, its probably a bad thing! Can I have some money now?" With such weapons does the UN fight the ingrained habits of several thousand years of human behaviour.
Let's face it, corruption has been with us a long time. The opportunity to abuse a position of trust is traditionally one of the perks of having it. Its only in the last few centuries that people, or at least some people, have been getting all uppity about the fact that their office bearers and civil servants are no more trustworthy than they are. Indeed corruption has been woven in with the human condition for so long that we could probably claim any attempt to remove it is an act of cultural genocide and utterly disrespectful of the traditional rites and practices of the indigenous population (whoever and wherever they may be). I would love to see the UN trying to wrap their collective skulls around that one.
One would think most people would be pretty aware of corruption whether its because some sleazebag politician rezoned the land next to the local school for a lead refinery or because a friend who's a police officer just helped you out with a speeding ticket. Nevertheless the UN feels that awareness needs to be raised and I'm doing my little bit to help. So with corruption dealt a mortal blow at the hands of the crusaders (or jihadists if you prefer) at the UN we can all look forward to a happier, healthier and wealthier tomorrow. Except, of course, for all of the people who used to be corrupt. Those suckers are going to starve.
For those of you who can't help thinking that the UN promoting Anti-Corruption Day is rather like hyenas promoting Anti-Scavenger Day I would respectfully point out that this is the same organisation that put Cuba, Kazakhstan and Saudi Arabia on its human rights commission. For those of you who think that western civilisation is the source of all evil in the world I might just mention that the USA and the UK are members too so no matter what your ideological bent the human rights commission has something to disgust everybody.
Anti Corruption Day is being sponsored (if that's the right word) by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Organised Crime. I didn't realise that the UN had such a body and I must admit I fail to see its point. Drug trafficking and organised crime have been flourishing for years, I'm sure they don't need the assistance of the UN. Nevertheless its good to see them raising awareness about corruption.
This is what the day is all about, raising awareness. Essentially it is a UN organised shout out; "Hey! Corruption happens! And, on balance, its probably a bad thing! Can I have some money now?" With such weapons does the UN fight the ingrained habits of several thousand years of human behaviour.
Let's face it, corruption has been with us a long time. The opportunity to abuse a position of trust is traditionally one of the perks of having it. Its only in the last few centuries that people, or at least some people, have been getting all uppity about the fact that their office bearers and civil servants are no more trustworthy than they are. Indeed corruption has been woven in with the human condition for so long that we could probably claim any attempt to remove it is an act of cultural genocide and utterly disrespectful of the traditional rites and practices of the indigenous population (whoever and wherever they may be). I would love to see the UN trying to wrap their collective skulls around that one.
One would think most people would be pretty aware of corruption whether its because some sleazebag politician rezoned the land next to the local school for a lead refinery or because a friend who's a police officer just helped you out with a speeding ticket. Nevertheless the UN feels that awareness needs to be raised and I'm doing my little bit to help. So with corruption dealt a mortal blow at the hands of the crusaders (or jihadists if you prefer) at the UN we can all look forward to a happier, healthier and wealthier tomorrow. Except, of course, for all of the people who used to be corrupt. Those suckers are going to starve.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Silly After Action Report - Part 1 "Prelude to Defeat"
In March 1942 General Douglas MacArthur faced the media in Australia and said "I came through and I shall return." He said a bunch of other stuff as well but that's the bit that got quoted. It was stirring stuff and it certainly went down better than if he had said "The army I raised, trained and commanded has had the stuffing knocked out of it and I ran yelping for Australia". Of course the second is grossly unfair to MacArthur (and it is quite difficult to be grossly unfair to MacArthur). No less a person than the American president (cigarette holder, wheelchair) had ordered his evacuation from the Philippines before the final blow fell.
Of course between the Japanese attack and the speech in Adelaide quite a lot of American and Filipino soldiers had to do a fair bit of dying, something that didn't actually stop after they surrendered. It's fair to say that the Japanese were on a roll, they were invading everywhere and carrying all before them. Now however they may have met an obstacle that will lead them to disaster. I'm going to be commanding them.
This is ASL Scenario AP59, Taking Heads. Set on New Years Day 1942 when MacArthur was still in the Philippines it pits a strong force of Japanese against a somewhat nearly equal number of Filipino army troops backed up with some American weaponry. Ivan Kent having been beaten as the Americans in the past jumped at the opportunity to lead them to victory by playing me. My attackers consisted of thirteen elite Japanese infantry squads, three first line squads with a gunless crew making up the numbers. Support weapons consisted of three light machine guns, three 50mm mortars, a demolition charge and an antitank rifle so heavy those manning it were likely to die of a hernia before they reached the battle front.
Ivan had thirteen second line troops (American 447s) a .50cal heavy machine gun, two medium machine guns, a 37mm antitank gun (why? I don't have any tanks) and two thinly armoured halftracks carrying 75mm guns. He also had wire, a roadblock and foxholes galore. Victory would be determined by victory points amassed. These were gained by the traditional "killing of the enemy" method but there were also two points on offer for each non hut building location (thirteen in all), points for any Japanese who managed to exit off the south edge of the board (fat chance) and points to the Japanese if they can clear the road of enemy troops.
Ivan set up with a few speedbumps forward and a line of foxhole hidden troops behind the road. One half track was over on the far left side of the board and the other was set up to fire straight up the road. A patch of jungle which commanded much of the road was just begging to be occupied by a machine gun.
The left side of the board didn't seem to me to lead anywhere useful with nasty spreads of bamboo so I set up the bulk of my forces on the centre and the right. A single squad plus a half squad with mortar would, I hoped, keep things under control in that area (wrong). My first objective was to secure the road leading to the village. With that under control my middle force would push down the centre more or less along the road while the right hand force would cross the road and push through the huts and approach the village from the right hand side.
Since I was almost certain that the .50 cal would be guarding the road (wrong again) circumspection was the order of the day for the first couple of turns. My troops entered and fanned out through the kunai, nervously heading for the defences. The only exception to this was on the extreme right where a sacrificial squad charged straight down the road to tempt his defenders to open fire. This they did with no result. This permitted me to move next to him and when his unit broke on final protective fire a small massacre gained me my first victory points.
Despite the circumspection of the rest of my advance his half tracks swiftly proved their worth killing one of my officers and an entire squad despite having multiple kunai hexes to shoot through. My howls and whimpers probably disturbed the neighbours. Fortunately vengeance was at hand with my hernia inducing anti tank rifle. As my troops oozed closer Ivan decided to relocated one of the half tracks. In a reverse of the low odds rolls he had achieved with his guns my atr crew rolled snakes and set the thing on fire. This was a great result in the short term although the ensuing smoke may or may not be of benefit later.
At the end of turn two I had closed up to the road but my troops and mortar had had no success in dealing with his suspected machine gun position (or even stripping concealment). Still I had Japanese and they're supposed to be able to handle heavy fire so I dashed a squad across the road. It survived but Ivan finally revealed not the .50cal but a medium machine gun with which he set up a fire lane down the road. Undaunted I assault moved a further two squads into the road, one striped but the other survived intact.
My centre force including a pair of mortars started pounding his mmg position with a singular lack of success. The same cannot be said for his response when he managed to get a K/2 shot which wounded my best leader and halved his associated squad. My leadership has been reduced to a blood spattered mess. One officer is dead and both the others are wounded. How did the third get wounded? My guys who got across the road pushed forward according to plan. An opportunity emerged to take out an isolated squad in some huts and I charged my DC toting 8-0 forward to draw fire. He didn't just draw fire he painted a picture of fire and is now a blood leaking 7+1 hiding behind a wall. However Ivan's squad once again broke himself with some desperate FPF and is now looking very close to death. On the far right an 8FP firegroup has proved utterly incapable of breaking a single squad in a foxhole. I'm going to give them one more turn then its time for some summary execution.
On the left the paucity of attackers has prompted Ivan to thin out his defenders and pull them back to the village. The inability of my mortar and squad back there to take out a single halfsquad is at least partly to blame for this. His surviving halftrack has also moved around no doubt to beat me up if I manage to approach the buildings.
Finally things turned my way when my mortars broke his mmg unit, I scampered a squad around behind them to prevent rout and almost looked silly when his hidden 37mm popped up and shot at them at point blank range. Then for good measure he did it again. I survived and slaughtered the crew in CC but it did give Ivan's squad an opportunity to rout at least a little distance away. Still I'm not in a bad position now but I feel I'm about one turn late in getting there. I have only three turns left to snatch some serious victory points, which means buildings, and I will need to take chances. That means more opportunities for Ivan to kill me and build his own VPs. Plus my slow limping leaders can do little except shout encouragement from the rear, banzai charges will be a little more difficult to arrange. If the dice and the gods go my way I might get lucky. If things play out in their usual fashion then when Ivan and I play the second half of this scenario in a couple of weeks I'll probably finish by beating myself to death with my computer keyboard.
Of course between the Japanese attack and the speech in Adelaide quite a lot of American and Filipino soldiers had to do a fair bit of dying, something that didn't actually stop after they surrendered. It's fair to say that the Japanese were on a roll, they were invading everywhere and carrying all before them. Now however they may have met an obstacle that will lead them to disaster. I'm going to be commanding them.
This is ASL Scenario AP59, Taking Heads. Set on New Years Day 1942 when MacArthur was still in the Philippines it pits a strong force of Japanese against a somewhat nearly equal number of Filipino army troops backed up with some American weaponry. Ivan Kent having been beaten as the Americans in the past jumped at the opportunity to lead them to victory by playing me. My attackers consisted of thirteen elite Japanese infantry squads, three first line squads with a gunless crew making up the numbers. Support weapons consisted of three light machine guns, three 50mm mortars, a demolition charge and an antitank rifle so heavy those manning it were likely to die of a hernia before they reached the battle front.
Ivan had thirteen second line troops (American 447s) a .50cal heavy machine gun, two medium machine guns, a 37mm antitank gun (why? I don't have any tanks) and two thinly armoured halftracks carrying 75mm guns. He also had wire, a roadblock and foxholes galore. Victory would be determined by victory points amassed. These were gained by the traditional "killing of the enemy" method but there were also two points on offer for each non hut building location (thirteen in all), points for any Japanese who managed to exit off the south edge of the board (fat chance) and points to the Japanese if they can clear the road of enemy troops.
Ivan set up with a few speedbumps forward and a line of foxhole hidden troops behind the road. One half track was over on the far left side of the board and the other was set up to fire straight up the road. A patch of jungle which commanded much of the road was just begging to be occupied by a machine gun.
The left side of the board didn't seem to me to lead anywhere useful with nasty spreads of bamboo so I set up the bulk of my forces on the centre and the right. A single squad plus a half squad with mortar would, I hoped, keep things under control in that area (wrong). My first objective was to secure the road leading to the village. With that under control my middle force would push down the centre more or less along the road while the right hand force would cross the road and push through the huts and approach the village from the right hand side.
 |
| End of turn 1. My guys have come from the top of the board and are easing their way towards the enemy |
Since I was almost certain that the .50 cal would be guarding the road (wrong again) circumspection was the order of the day for the first couple of turns. My troops entered and fanned out through the kunai, nervously heading for the defences. The only exception to this was on the extreme right where a sacrificial squad charged straight down the road to tempt his defenders to open fire. This they did with no result. This permitted me to move next to him and when his unit broke on final protective fire a small massacre gained me my first victory points.
Despite the circumspection of the rest of my advance his half tracks swiftly proved their worth killing one of my officers and an entire squad despite having multiple kunai hexes to shoot through. My howls and whimpers probably disturbed the neighbours. Fortunately vengeance was at hand with my hernia inducing anti tank rifle. As my troops oozed closer Ivan decided to relocated one of the half tracks. In a reverse of the low odds rolls he had achieved with his guns my atr crew rolled snakes and set the thing on fire. This was a great result in the short term although the ensuing smoke may or may not be of benefit later.
At the end of turn two I had closed up to the road but my troops and mortar had had no success in dealing with his suspected machine gun position (or even stripping concealment). Still I had Japanese and they're supposed to be able to handle heavy fire so I dashed a squad across the road. It survived but Ivan finally revealed not the .50cal but a medium machine gun with which he set up a fire lane down the road. Undaunted I assault moved a further two squads into the road, one striped but the other survived intact.
 |
| End of Turn 2. I don't seem to have got very far but I am making a bit of a push on the right. |
My centre force including a pair of mortars started pounding his mmg position with a singular lack of success. The same cannot be said for his response when he managed to get a K/2 shot which wounded my best leader and halved his associated squad. My leadership has been reduced to a blood spattered mess. One officer is dead and both the others are wounded. How did the third get wounded? My guys who got across the road pushed forward according to plan. An opportunity emerged to take out an isolated squad in some huts and I charged my DC toting 8-0 forward to draw fire. He didn't just draw fire he painted a picture of fire and is now a blood leaking 7+1 hiding behind a wall. However Ivan's squad once again broke himself with some desperate FPF and is now looking very close to death. On the far right an 8FP firegroup has proved utterly incapable of breaking a single squad in a foxhole. I'm going to give them one more turn then its time for some summary execution.
On the left the paucity of attackers has prompted Ivan to thin out his defenders and pull them back to the village. The inability of my mortar and squad back there to take out a single halfsquad is at least partly to blame for this. His surviving halftrack has also moved around no doubt to beat me up if I manage to approach the buildings.
 |
| End of Turn 3. I have two forces ready to hit him (I hope). Note the sword waving 10-1 leader, by the end of turn 4 he will be a wounded 9-0 reduced to using his sword as a splint. The DC is carried by an 8-0 come turn 4 he will be a bleeding 7+1, my officers certainly lead from the front if only briefly. |
Finally things turned my way when my mortars broke his mmg unit, I scampered a squad around behind them to prevent rout and almost looked silly when his hidden 37mm popped up and shot at them at point blank range. Then for good measure he did it again. I survived and slaughtered the crew in CC but it did give Ivan's squad an opportunity to rout at least a little distance away. Still I'm not in a bad position now but I feel I'm about one turn late in getting there. I have only three turns left to snatch some serious victory points, which means buildings, and I will need to take chances. That means more opportunities for Ivan to kill me and build his own VPs. Plus my slow limping leaders can do little except shout encouragement from the rear, banzai charges will be a little more difficult to arrange. If the dice and the gods go my way I might get lucky. If things play out in their usual fashion then when Ivan and I play the second half of this scenario in a couple of weeks I'll probably finish by beating myself to death with my computer keyboard.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Long Service
Yesterday, being at rather a loose end, I wandered up to Springwood Sports Club to see my parents being awarded long service medals for their thirty plus years service with Blaxland Bushfire Brigade. Others were being similarly acknowledged but I was really only interested in my parents.
My family moved to Blaxland in the Blue Mountains over thirty years ago (most of us are still there) and my parents joined the local volunteer bushfire brigade more or less the next day. My father had a Class C drivers licence which came in handy operating the war surplus, ex military vehicles the brigade was equipped with at the time. Those vehicles were eventually replaced in the 1980s but my parents weren't.
For thirty six odd years my parents and their colleagues gave up their spare time for training, maintenance, hazard reduction, fund raising and occasionally (although not occasionally enough for those who love them) risking their lives fighting bushfires. I can recall as a child occasions when my father would come home filthy and reeking of smoke (I do the same thing now but for much less salubrious reasons) or my mother would come in absolutely exhausted having spent the previous twelve hours organising and despatching fire crews and liaising with higher up the organisational chain for the allocation of scarce resources.
Now, in the function room of a modest local club and in the (very brief) presence of various politicians that service was acknowledged. Acknowledged is the right word. It isn't payment or reward, a medal is a small piece of coloured ribbon attached to an equally inconsequential lump of base metal. But what it does say is that somebody noticed and thought such service was worth recognising.
The ceremony, rather ironically, took place while it poured with rain outside although this did limit the likelihood of proceedings being interrupted by an emergency call out. Various politicians were in attendance including the local state and federal MPs. The state MP made a speech in which she mentioned her adolescent son had been going off the rail but that becoming a member of the local bushfire brigade had helped to sort him out. This is great news for him, her, the brigade and society at large but it did rather give the impression that she thought the bushfire brigade was some sort of community outreach program. The federal MP gave a speech of such rambling incoherence that I still have no idea what she was talking about.
Neither of them stuck around for the actual presentation. They gave their speeches and then left. Personally I think they could have showed more respect by either staying to the end or not turning up at all. The local mayor did stay to the end but then he's a volunteer firefighter.
With the politicians out of the way and escorted safely off the premises the actual presentation could commence. This was undertaken with just enough glitches to show that most of those involved actually only did this in their spare time in between their jobs and their lives. Below is a photograph of my parents. I'm terribly proud of both of them.
My family moved to Blaxland in the Blue Mountains over thirty years ago (most of us are still there) and my parents joined the local volunteer bushfire brigade more or less the next day. My father had a Class C drivers licence which came in handy operating the war surplus, ex military vehicles the brigade was equipped with at the time. Those vehicles were eventually replaced in the 1980s but my parents weren't.
For thirty six odd years my parents and their colleagues gave up their spare time for training, maintenance, hazard reduction, fund raising and occasionally (although not occasionally enough for those who love them) risking their lives fighting bushfires. I can recall as a child occasions when my father would come home filthy and reeking of smoke (I do the same thing now but for much less salubrious reasons) or my mother would come in absolutely exhausted having spent the previous twelve hours organising and despatching fire crews and liaising with higher up the organisational chain for the allocation of scarce resources.
Now, in the function room of a modest local club and in the (very brief) presence of various politicians that service was acknowledged. Acknowledged is the right word. It isn't payment or reward, a medal is a small piece of coloured ribbon attached to an equally inconsequential lump of base metal. But what it does say is that somebody noticed and thought such service was worth recognising.
The ceremony, rather ironically, took place while it poured with rain outside although this did limit the likelihood of proceedings being interrupted by an emergency call out. Various politicians were in attendance including the local state and federal MPs. The state MP made a speech in which she mentioned her adolescent son had been going off the rail but that becoming a member of the local bushfire brigade had helped to sort him out. This is great news for him, her, the brigade and society at large but it did rather give the impression that she thought the bushfire brigade was some sort of community outreach program. The federal MP gave a speech of such rambling incoherence that I still have no idea what she was talking about.
Neither of them stuck around for the actual presentation. They gave their speeches and then left. Personally I think they could have showed more respect by either staying to the end or not turning up at all. The local mayor did stay to the end but then he's a volunteer firefighter.
With the politicians out of the way and escorted safely off the premises the actual presentation could commence. This was undertaken with just enough glitches to show that most of those involved actually only did this in their spare time in between their jobs and their lives. Below is a photograph of my parents. I'm terribly proud of both of them.
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