Never Start a Land War In Asia

I am a war game enthusiast- and I mean real games, not video games.
Board Games
What makes board games so fantastic is that the poor game designer, probably in Germany, where it seems the best games are from (if the designer has an Umlaut in his name, thats a good sign), he, or she, must rely not on flashing lights and sound effects, and lots of adrenaline driving action and shooting, but rather small colorful pieces of paper, and a large piece of cardboard. While this may sound like a downside, it isn't- it forces the designer to create a mental challenge to pit one player against another in a challenge of wits, and let the craving maw of the player's ravenous ego elevated the rather mundane action of rolling dice, or playing a card, to a level of adrenaline pumping, action packed, 360 Bose surround sound induced delusion impossible to replicate without liberal use of explosives and a leased Fokker Triplane. You may be worried that the game you buy will have failed to achieve this effect- and you are probably right. Do your research before you spend 40 bucks on a cardboard box filled with more cardboard.

This brings me to war board games- and their are many great ones. Of course there is the classic Risk- fantastic game, depending on the group of people. Its best to play with a variety of personalities, and to play multiple games over time so you can learn each person quirks and strategies- this adds a delicious three-layer humus-y flavor to the game. One person may always ally with another, or never attack until the end of the game, or act completely random. One of the most amusing games I have played was when my normal group of Risk enthusiasts played a game with a new person, who believed that if someone made an alliance with them, they were honor bound to keep it. Deception, deception- its all politics.

There are a number of other games, some which take less time than risk, such as Memoir 44, which involves a single battle, to ones that last much longer. One of these much longer games is particular notable- Axis and Allies. This is a true board game, not lacking in any complexity, in all senses a worthy mental challenge. One of the aspects that makes it hyper realistic is that it lasts so long that, as a commander, you begin to question the common sense of starting the war in the first place. Is it worth it to spend another four turns building up a fleet of aircraft carriers and planes to go make a futile landing Taiwan, when the Mongolian infantry are just going to crush you ill equipped landing party in a few more turns?
Okay, so maybe the game isn't so bad.
Well, its actauly probably my fault. The real rules require a set up time of about and hour and a half, and you don't get to choose anything at all- you just set up the board more or less like it was in the mid part of WWII and begin. I'm sure the game designers did tons of research on the battles and war fare and strategies of the actual battalions and so forth of WWII, and based on these data, decided that playing the role of the commander of a marine fleet would be quite exciting, since the risk of dying and what not was removed. They probably would have been correct. But that is not who you play. You play commander of the the entire axis or allied forces (hence the name) Do you think that was an exciting position to hold in WWII? Do you think Stalin's adrenaline was pumping as ordered the production of six million more tanks to be manufactured, only destined to crawl their way across the frozen tundra to meet their futile end in some otherwise insignificant battle? No. But he had to didn't he? He had no other choice but to send wave after wave of troops to go fight pointless battles, and Stalingrad was still destroyed.
This is exactly what happens in Axis and Allies. The goal of the game (according to my more interesting and playable rules) is to destroy everything. To destroy everything, you need tanks and infantry and so forth, which cost money. You get x amount of money each turn depending on how many countries you have taken over. So you need alot of land to make alot of money. Guess where there is alot of land?
Thats right- Russia. So nearly every game devolves into a slow, painful, expensive, boring land war in Asia. As the Sicilian in princess bride would say "Ha! You've fallen for the most classic blunder! Never start a land war in Asia"
And now I know why

(Historical facts unverified. In another note, I circumvented this whole issue by making the land in Asia worthless- not the wars are more full of interesting sea, air, land battles. There are a million other little things about the game that drive me crazy, but I won't mention them, and anyways, they are real situations that develop in real war, so cudos on the makers of Axis and Allies tricking me into thinking a 15 hour hyper-realistic war game would be any less aggravating and painstaking than a real war.)

Sandwiches

So,
wow
Um, its like midnight+23 min right now and I was going to begin writing this post, but the full magnitude and depth of the subject matter just hit me full on, leaving my mind staggering in a wild slide show of hollow memories that have until just now been safely locked behind a sturdy door of denial and coping mechanisms.
Well, best to just let it all out, and then neatly pack it all away again.

So,
I might have mentioned that I am vegan before, but I'll mention it again. I became vegan when I was around 4 years old. This was probably the beginning of the whole subject matter. Oh man, well as you can probably guess, I am making this up as I go, and as I do, I keep remembering more and more haunting memories. I'll bear with it though. So, being vegan means that when I eventually made my way into the educational institution of elementary school. This meant that myself, a vegan, was separated from my natural environment of cupboards and fridges shelves full of eatable food. No big deal- I brought a lunch from home. Lots of kids did. It was completely normal. I won't complain too much about having the same lunch 270 days a year for 8 years- lots of kids had that experience. I mean everyone must have gotten sick of having candy, chips, and soda for lunch every day. I know I would. Thats why I was particularly happy with my regular fare: unsweetened soymilk and canned slugs, I mean, prunes, both stored in neon plastic capsules that could have kept King Tuts lunch fresh while he waited to be discovered. These delectable delights were served as appetizers (I use the word loosely) to the main entrée- a sandwich. Not just any sandwich- it is a masterpiece.   Applied in the thinest layer was the throat parching layer of unsweetened soy butter (It exists- my brother is allergic to  peanuts, so we all suffered. And no, i'm not being insensitive to his life threatening condition- he is only mildly allergic- my mothers discovery of almond butter was a spiritual moment for me) There is also a layer of jam, applied with the soy butter in such a way I often opened my sandwich to make sure it wasn't just two layers of bread. And the bread- well you can feel your life extending when you eat it- its made of sprouted wheat, which in my mind is essentially whole wheat bread that somebody let go to seed. To hide the flavor, its covered with an assortment of bird food which cascades onto your lap when you take a bite, and leave you with a better understanding of why birds prefer insects to your bird feeder.
With that said, I do appreciate the timeless effort my parents put into preparing a lunch for me everyday, with love and care to raise me healthy and happy. I would like to say when I started making my own lunches I made different sandwiches, but I didn't. (I did forgo the slugs and soy milk though)

And with that said, I must explain that sandwiches are possibly my favorite food (baring ice cream- that is, soy cream, of course) I think it is these experiences in my youth that led me to the profound appreciation of the art form that is a true sandwich. When made correctly, a sandwich is the obvious and natural evolution of all food. With soft artisan bread, with a proper crust to make it crunch, succulent meat substitute, rich cheese substitute, crunchy lettuce, the bite of dill pickles, the tang of mustard, the creamy flavor of fake mayo, and the tangy explosion of pepperoncinis. So many flavors, with fantastic textures, and infinite options. That is a sandwich.  Heaven.

Unfortunately for every amazing, perfect, fantastic sandwich, lovingly crafted and enjoyed slowly and with great appreciation, there are 200 horrific, pathetic, gut wrenching sandwiches, thrown together at the last minute, and gagged down when hunger over rides sanity.
I know them well.
I know when they are coming.
And I dread them.
I have avoided them for months now, but they are in my future.
I see them now.
May 20th, 2011.
The day my family is going to go camping.
I shiver.
It begins like this.
Parent 1: "What are we going to eat on the car ride down to the beach?"
Me: "I'll eat an energy bar"
Parent 2: "We don't have any, actauly."
Me: "Water. I'll eat water. I mean, I'll drink water."
Parent 1: "Nonsense, I'll throw together some sandwiches for the trip"

>> fast forward 2 hours: at rest stop 30 minutes from camp ground, after using bathroom due to drinking enough water to suppress a great white shark's appetite

Parent 1: "Golly, I'm a bit peckish. Where are those sandwiches? Grab them, for me please? We can eat before heading back out"

I crawl back to the car, which, over the last 1.15 hours has remained cool and refreshing due to the invention of air conditioning. The sandwiches are not in the car. they are in the trunk, which over the last 1.15 has been transformed into a humid oven, dripping with moisture evaporated off of fungus infected sleeping mats. I take in a breath, and worm may hand into the grocery bag squashed between a camp stove and a pair of boots, and drag out the sandwiches. By a stroke of genius, they have been stored in the plastic bag the bread came in. Peering in, I see that the bread has literally perspired, misting the clear plastic. I warily undo the little metal twist tie, and open the bag, getting my first look at my meal. The 4 or 5 sandwiches have become one single jelly sodden, crumbling mass. I extract the whole thing, and the sandwiches remind me of orange peels as I peel them apart, insofar as orange peel is inedible. With the hot sun beating down on me, and the toxic flavor of the bug repellent I just applied mixed with the already indistinguishable overtones of boiled jelly, decomposed soy pulp, and paste-ala-bread. Hunger breaks down my sanity, and I gag it down, hearing my self ask for a luke warm juice box, please.

Living life and drinking tea

I just realized that I am living life- right now! Over the last week, I have felt really alive- not that there was particular beauty discovered in nature, or I began meditating and doing yoga, or anything like that. It wasn't like in the sound of music opening scene with Fraulein Maria living life and singing in the hills kind of live-it-up life is full of vibrancy-and-wonder type of discovering I am living life. I was more like the kind of making a fun little sand castle on the beach which is crushed to smithereens by a tidal sneaker wave which sucks you out to sea, pulling you under water before you get a breath of anything more than the sand your face is being dragged across, blinded by salt water as tons-upon-tons of water smash bits of your body on other bits foot-cut-open-on-nasty-coral, struggling to surface and somehow making it, gasping for breath, but surprised to be alive, living life kind of feeling. I think this is because when all this happens to you, your sensory faculties go on high alert, looking out for danger. This must be why people like bungee jumping, and all that. The adeneline. Though I'm not sure how much adreneline you have left at 3 in the morning after 6 consecutive hours of staring at 4 math problems. Still a great feeling though once you get past it.

As for the tea I talked about, or rather didn't, in my last entry, yes. Tea is great- its just leaves and water! And it smells so good. I drink earl grey hot, like Picard. You may think Picard is being kinda pretentious ordering earl grey "hot" not just earl grey, but have you tried earl grey hot (i.e. hot enough to burn your mouth if you take more than a thimble of a sip at once)- if I could see flavors, there would be a visible difference between the two.