unlawful orders

Posted on by
3

We’re seeing a lot of discourse about troops and how they should respond to unlawful orders. That’s good. What’s NOT so good, though, is that almost all of the discourse is naive. Much of it comes from civilians who’ve never served and don’t understand how the military operates, or from veterans who were officers. Very little of it is coming from former enlisted personnel–the poor bastards who actually have to carry out those orders.

Here’s a True Thing and in order to actually understand the current discourse you have to accept the truth of this: the foundation of all military hierarchies is grounded on one simple rule: you are required to immediately obey a direct order from a superior officer. In the military, a direct order is a specific, clear command to do something. Go there, do this. The military instills this in all enlisted troops because in combat, you don’t have time to discuss direct orders. You can’t mull over the moral, ethical, or legal implications of the order. You just have to obey it. Even if the direct order is stupid, even if it’s blatantly obvious to you that it’s the wrong thing to do, even if it puts you or others in extreme danger. You’re supposed to just fucking DO it and do it immediately. You’re actually trained to just fucking do it.

The only acceptable military response to a direct order is “Yes sir.”

But but but…what if the order is unlawful? You’re obligated to obey a direct order, but you’re also obligated to REFUSE to obey a direct order if it’s not lawful. The problem, of course, is most troops have a rather vague notion of what is and what isn’t lawful. That problem is compounded by the fact that a direct order must be obeyed immediately.

What’s a lawful order? Article 92 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice isn’t particularly helpful. It suggests a direct order should be presumed to be legal:

“An order requiring the performance of a military duty or act may be inferred to be lawful, and it is disobeyed at the peril of the subordinate. This inference does not apply to a patently illegal order, such as one that directs the commission of a crime. The lawfulness of an order is a question of law to be determined by the military.”

So, what’s a service member to do if they’re given a direct order and they’re skeptical about the order’s lawfulness? There’s a protocol for that. You’re supposed to:

  1. Seek clarification of the order. Ask the officer, “Sir, I want to make sure I understand. Are you ordering me to do this thing that seems to me like it might be really fucking illegal?” If the officer answers ‘yes’, but you’re STILL not sure it’s legal, then you’re supposed to…
  2. Consult a higher authority. “Sir, I’d like to talk to your superior or maybe a lawyer before I do this thing that seems to be really fucking illegal.”

Odds are at this point, the officer will order some other service member to put you under arrest. If the order turns out later to have been lawful, you’re fucked; you may do time in a military prison and you’ll get a dishonorable discharge. If it turns out to have been unlawful, guess what: you’re still fucked. Every officer you deal with in the future will be sure to give every shit detail that comes along, because you can’t be trusted to follow orders from your superior officers.

This is what’s missing from the discourse. The military is unlike civilian life. If you go to work and your boss tells you to do something you think violates the law, you can refuse. The worst that will happen is you’ll be fired. In the military, you could go to prison.

It’s easy to say to troops, “Just don’t obey.” It’s not that easy for the troops. Especially when they’re serving under a Commander-in-Chief who pardons and celebrates war criminals. It’s easy to remind troops that ‘just following orders’ didn’t help Nazis during the Nuremberg trials. It’s not that easy when it’s your ass that’s looking at arrest and imprisonment.

That said, troops SHOULD ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to obey orders they believe are unlawful. But we should also be aware of the risk we’re asking them to take.

things happen

Posted on by
7

Obscenity piled on obscenity. It was completely obscene for Comrade President Donald Trump to welcome Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman of Saudi Arabia into the White House. It was obscene that he held a formal state dinner to honor the Crown Prince. It was obscene that Trump referred to MBS as an “extremely respected man” who was also “a friend of mine.” It was deeply, deeply obscene for Trump to praise MBS for his work on human rights. But most obscene of all was his defense of the assassination and dismemberment of Jamal Khashoggi.

ABC News reporter Mary Bruce asked a question: “Your royal highness, the U.S. intelligence concluded that you orchestrated the brutal murder of a journalist. 9/11 families are furious that you are here in the Oval Office. Why should Americans trust you? And the same to you, Mr. President?” Trump’s answer:

“You’re mentioning someone that was extremely controversial. A lot of people didn’t like that gentleman that you’re talking about. Whether you like him or didn’t like him, things happen. But he (MBS) knew nothing about it, and we can leave it at that. You don’t have to embarrass our guest.”

Things happen? Things like assassination and dismemberment? They just happen?

There’s a lot of blood on those hands.

Jamal Khashoggi, a reporter who was critical of Saudi royalty, had fled to the US out of fear of government reprisals. In 2018, he wanted to marry Hatice Cengiz, a Turkish citizen. It would be his second marriage. In order to remarry, Khashoggie needed official documentation that his Saudi marriage had been dissolved, which required him to visit the Saudi consulate in Istanbul. He made his first visit to the consulate unannounced, out of fear that he might be kidnapped and returned to Saudi Arabia. He was told he had to come back later. Khashoggi brought Ms. Cengiz with him on his second visit, but asked her to wait outside.

She waited. He never came back out.

US intelligence agencies determined that a Saudi hit team had been assembled on the order of Mohammed bin Salman. That team was waiting for Khashoggi. They tortured him, strangled him, and dismembered him with a bone saw. We know this because Turkish security agencies had bugged the Saudi consulate and made the tape of the assassination available. The assessment report by the CIA (along with a copy of the audio tape) was given to Trump. He stated he didn’t listen to the tape; he refused to release the report to the public.

Seven years later, Trump is back in power and trying to help rehabilitate the reputation of MBS. Trump’s sons are engaged in developing golf resorts in Saudi Arabia. Trump’s golf courses in the US host tournaments sponsored by Saudi money. Saudi royalty buys expensive Trump properties. These things, these deals, they just…happen.

Let’s face it, Trump likes powerful autocrats who can make things happen. I’m fairly certain he wishes he had more power to make things happen to persons who “a lot of people” don’t like. MBS can order a reporter kidnapped, tortured, murdered and dismembered; Trump has to make do with blowing up boat crewed by anonymous Venezuelans who might be drug runners or might just be unlucky fishermen. Trump wishes he could wield the sort of absolute power MBS has, and that should scare the absolute shit out of all Americans.

Things happen, and Trump says we shouldn’t embarrass the people involved in those things by asking impertinent questions. He especially dislikes it when those impertinent questions are asked by women. Like ABC’s Mary Bruce. Like Bloomberg’s Catherine Lucey (who Trump pointed his finger at and told her, “Quiet, piggy.”). Like all the women victimized by Jeffrey Epstein.

Things happen. We’ve been waiting for them to happen to Trump. It’s time for us to stop waiting and make things happen. Yesterday’s near-unanimous vote to release the Epstein files during the visit of the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia was a fine beginning.

a consummation devoutly to be wished

Posted on by
4

I’m hesitant to write this. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m happy to write it. I’m hesitant to hope it might be true. I’ve hoped this hope so many times in the past, and each time that hope has been soundly kicked squarely in the yorbels. But I dunno…this time…maybe? So what the hell, I’m going to write it.

We may actually be seeing the beginning of the end of Comrade President Donald J. Trump.

Why do I think that? Epstein.

Let’s face it, MAGA has repeatedly demonstrated that they’ll forgive Trump for anything. The open corruption, the galactic level hypocrisy, the gobsmacking incompetence, the extravagant lies, the destruction of the East Wing of the White House, the inability to maintain a coherent thought for any length of time, the complete and utter lack of loyalty to his subordinate, the destruction of a health care system they rely on, the destruction of civil liberties. MAGA has always found ways to overlook, justify, or even celebrate that shit.

And to be honest, a sizable chunk of MAGA will forgive Trump for boinking teenaged girls. They may claim to be disappointed that he boinked teenaged girls while he was married, but they’ll forgive him for it. Some will even applaud him for it.

But Epstein?

Epstein is different. Epstein exists outside the ‘boys will be boys’ framework. Epstein has become shorthand for ‘child sex trafficking.’ And child sex trafficking has been a mainstay of right-wing conspiracy theories for a long, long time. These people spend a LOT of time thinking about forced sex with young girls. If you recall, the QAnon movement was solidly locked into the notion that powerful (mostly Democratic) politicians and Hollywood elites (exclusively Democratic) had formed a cabal of Satanic/cannibalistic pedophiles who kidnapped, imprisoned, raped, and murdered children for their adrenochrome.

The loopy passion of QAnon was matched by—and eventually merged with—the loopy passion of MAGA. The membrane between QAnon and MAGA became even more porous and the loopiness escalated when Epstein died while in Federal custody. There was a feeding frenzy of conspiracy theories detailing how and by whom Epstein was murdered. Q/MAGA was energized during the 2024 election by Trump’s promise to release all the Epstein files if he was re-elected.

And hey, bingo…he was. In February, Attorney General Pam Bondi told reporters the Epstein client list “is on my desk right now for review.” Q/MAGA got excited. The truth was going to come out. Any day now. Really. Get ready. It was coming. Finally we’d know the truth. Just as soon as Bondi finished reviewing all the files. The Epstein client list would be made public and the elites would be held accountable for their horrific crimes. Q/MAGA could hardly contain itself. The anticipation was intense.

Then, on a busy Friday over the 4th of July holiday weekend, Bondi quietly announced that the Epstein client list…well, it didn’t exist. Sorry. Oh, and Epstein wasn’t murdered; he just killed himself. Case closed. Nothing to see here. What’s on Netflix this week?

Q/MAGA was…stunned. Then angry. Righteously angry. Now they feel betrayed. Not just by Bondi’s bait-and-switch, but by the possibility—wait, the probability—the OMFG certainty that Trump, his ownself, was on the list. Not just ON the list, but very likely FEATURED throughout the Epstein files. All of that loopy passion began to turn against Trump…and that’s a LOT of loopy passion.

I wrote about this back in July. In response to a question, I said this:

I don’t for a moment believe this will take Trump down. But I DO think it will weaken him. And I’m good with that. I don’t think there’s any single issue or scandal that can pull him down, but I think every issue that causes him to bleed a bit should be amplified. Death by a thousand cuts…that works for me.

I’m starting to change my mind on this. I’m starting to believe the sheer depth and scope of all that Epstein-inspired loopy passion could take Trump down. Again, I’m hesitant to hope for it, because there’s been a Friday the 13th quality to Trump; he doesn’t stay dead.

But maybe this time? Maybe dead Epstein will take Trump down? There would certainly be a sort of poetic justice to that. Maybe this could actually put an end to our national heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that Trump has inflicted upon us.

‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.

UPDATE: Today Trump announced that he’s asking the Department of Justice to investigate Democrats linked to Epstein. Just Democrats, apparently. The most obvious reason is to draw attention away from himself. A less obvious reason: by getting the DOJ to investigate Democrats, the DOJ can then refuse to release the Epstein files because of an “ongoing investigation.”

EDITORIAL NOTE: Seriously, we need to burn the patriarchy to the ground. Just about everything that’s fucked up in the world has its roots in patriarchy. Or capitalism. Much the same thing, really. Burn patriarchy and capitalism will also go up in smoke. Burn it.

in which i look at an old photo (part 8)

Posted on by
11

Well, here we are again. This is the eighth time I’ve looked at an old photo. This is apparently a thing I do now. Why? Because in May of 2024 I read an article that suggested photographers could benefit from looking at their old photos as if they were made by a different person. I was skeptical about the idea, but what the hell…I did it. The notion still seems a wee bit precious to me. But here I am, doing it again.

Two things: first, I don’t recall the exact point of looking at your old photos as if they were made by a stranger. I know it had something to do with how our approach to photography changes over time, but surely that’s a given, isn’t it? In any event, when I look at these old photos, I find I’m mostly thinking about why I shot that particular photo, or why I shot it in that particular way, or what that photo means to me now. None of which, I suspect, is what the author of the article intended.

Second thing: when I decided to do this, I was stymied by the fact that I’d have to actually pick an old photo to look at. How do you do that? I chose a random approach. I pick a random month in a random year and see what catches my eye. I was completely unprepared to have emotions about this stuff. But I do.

Anyway, here we go.

10:28 AM, Monday, June 21, 2010

I shot this photo standing up in the back of my brother’s pickup. What you’re seeing here is an anvil cloud. These form when a thunderstorm’s updraft reaches a level of the atmosphere where moisture effectively stops, which causes the storm to spread out horizontally. These sorts of clouds are associated with really severe weather, including hail and tornadoes. As I understand it, when the moist air can’t go any higher, water vapor coalesces and returns to Earth in the form of heavy rain and/or hail. There’s also a lot of wind. A lot of wind.

Light gets really weird during a thunderstorm. The clouds make a huge difference, of course; they shape the angle of sunlight. The air is full of moisture and particulate matter swept up by the wind, so the light gets diffused and often turns into a beautifully ominous bruised color. It’s compelling and lovely and wild and sometimes scary. It’s that savage, unpredictable, astonishing, untamed wildness that makes big storms both lovely and terrifying.

That’s exactly why my brother, Jesse Eugene, and I were there. He’d been a Marine in Vietnam, and a firefighter afterward. There was a stormy wildness in him. A wildness that showed up in most aspects of his life, to be honest. A wildness I’m afraid I encouraged during tornado season. The wildness–and his willingness to give into it–largely ruined his life. There was a part of him that loved the destructive power of fires, and loved facing and beating down that power. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons he loved thunderstorms. I think he probably saw them as a challenge he could face down.

On this particular day, we knew a bad storm was coming and we drove out to meet it. This was just a few miles outside the city. I’d had him stop his pickup at this particular spot because I liked the curve of the road. I got excited when I got out of the vehicle and saw the curve reflected the curve of the anvil cloud. It amused Jesse Eugene when I asked him to turn the truck around so I could include the red roof in a photo. He enjoyed the absurdity of it–of me insisting on posing a pickup truck while a massive thunderstorm was approaching. It soon became too dark and windy to shoot photographs, but we stayed there until the storm hit hard and it began pissing down rain like the End of Days. It was a good storm.

I picked this photo to look at because, even though you can see his face, it’s probably the most honest photograph I’ve taken of my brother. I’m happy with this just as a photograph, even though it’s flawed. I like the way the sunlight behind us illuminated my brother’s white hair. I like the artificial red shininess of the pickup’s roof. I like the way the curve of the road echoes the curve of the clouds. I like the emotion of the image; I like that the emotion is just there and doesn’t depend on the viewer knowing anything at all about the circumstance the people involved. It’s not a great photo, but I think it works.

I’m also happy with it as a memory. I’d much rather remember Jesse Eugene like this, laughing and facing a thunderstorm, rather than the thin, frail, cancer-ravaged person he became at the end. But that’s the thing, I guess. Even the wildest storms eventually lose strength and peter out.

comfort murders

Posted on by
8

A million years ago, when I was a lowly doctoral student, my dissertation advisor suggested I include a chapter comparing fictional detective work with actual detective work. I was reluctant to do that because, having been an actual private detective specializing in criminal defense work, I found detective fiction to be profoundly stupid. But a ‘suggestion’ from your dissertation advisor is pretty damned close to an order.

Her suggestion came with a list of authors and titles she thought I might find worthwhile. Somewhere near the middle of the list was this: Any Nero Wolfe novel by Rex Stout. Nero Wolfe, she told me, was an unorthodox detective–an obese, beer-drinking, gourmand genius who grows orchids, has a particular passion for the color yellow, and solves murders without ever leaving his house. I found this horrifying. I was supposed to somehow compare that to actual detective work? That would be like comparing a Star Trek transporter operator to a railroad engineer.

But I went to the university library like a good doctoral student, and asked the librarian to give me a random Nero Wolfe novel. And I read it. And I loved it.

Don’t get me wrong–it was as ridiculous as it sounds. Nero Wolfe was completely absurd. But his assistant, Archie Goodwin, was not. Well, that’s not true; he was also ridiculous. But unlike all the other detective novels I was forced to read, Archie Goodwin had a proper private detective’s attitude. Because Wolfe never leaves his house, he sends Archie out to gather information “guided by your intelligence and experience.” That’s pretty much how criminal defense investigation is done.

What made Archie Goodwin interesting and, to some extent, believable, was his attitude. He’s generally light-hearted and enjoys meeting people and talking to them; he undertakes each aspect of an investigation as if it’s an entertaining challenge. That makes him creative and improvisational, which are qualities you find in the best investigators. But below the surface, Archie is always focused on doing the job, getting the information needed to resolve the case. Getting results is the only real measure of PI work. The job always comes first.

What really sold me on the character was one particular scene. Archie interviews a woman at her home. Her husband has recently died (as I recall, his death is unrelated to the crime at the center of the story). but out of habit she continues cooking his breakfast and setting a place for him at the table. His hat still hangs on the hatrack near the door. Archie realizes she’s stuck, so he sits at her husband’s place at the table, eats his breakfast, then puts the man’s hat on his head when he leave. Which is enough to shock her out of that stage of her grief. (I may have the details wrong; it’s been a long time since I read it…and I’ll come back to that.)

That scene hit me hard because I had a similar encounter as a PI. I was interviewing a woman who’d had the bad luck to witness a crime. Her teen-aged son had recently died. His skateboard was still leaning against a wall in the kitchen. She couldn’t bring herself to move it. After the interview, as I was leaving, I told her I knew a kid who couldn’t afford a good skateboard (which was a total lie) and offered to buy it from her. She cried and gave it to me, glad that the skateboard would be used.

Why am I telling you all this? Because about 18 months ago, somewhat in response to how awful everything is right now, I decided to find that Nero Wolfe novel and read it again. The problem was I didn’t remember the title. An even bigger problem was that between 1934 and 1975, Rex Stout wrote more than forty novels and short story collections featuring Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin.

So I bought a Nero Wolfe novel at random and read it. It wasn’t the one I was looking for. So I bought another. Then another. And another.

They’re all basically the same novel. The characters never change or develop. They remain the same age, though time moves on. Their daily lives are unchanging. The cases are all variations on a theme: somebody has a problem (usually involving a murder), they consult Wolfe, Wolfe resists taking the case (unless he needs the money), Archie goads him into working, Archie (and a few other PIs) go out and gather information, Wolfe sits at his desk and thinks, everybody gathers in Wolfe’s office, and he identifies the murderer. They’re wildly unrealistic.

This should be boring AF. But it’s not. At least it’s not to me. I find them weirdly comforting. The novels and short stories actually comprise a slowly evolving love story between all the primary characters: Wolfe, Archie, the house chef Fritz, the orchid wrangler Theodore, the two police detectives (Inspector Cramer and Sgt. Purley Stebbins). Hell, even the house they live in is part of the love story. And the menus for meals, lawdy. The plot is just a reason to spend time with the characters.

Anyway, for the last year and a half, every second or third book I’ve read has been a Nero Wolfe novel. I’ve read 29 of them, in no particular order, and I still haven’t stumbled across the novel containing the scene I’m looking for. I have a list of 17 that I’ve yet to read.

At this point, I’ll probably keep reading them even after I finally find that one scene. I may as well complete the set. I figure it’ll take me another year or so to get through them all. I’m okay with that.

These are comfort murders, after all.

celebrate good times

Posted on by
5

This morning, for the first time in a year, I actually wanted to read the news. For the first time since the darkness dropped again and Comrade Donald Trump slouched back into the White House, I actually looked forward to reading the news.

Because the news was good. Not just because Democrats won, and not just because they won by larder-than-expected margins, and not just because they won from coast to coast. The news is good because of the way they won. The ways they won, I should say, Because the way they won in New York City was different than the way they won in New Jersey and in Virginia. That confuses the pundit class.

Today there will be a LOT of pundits claiming Zohran Mamdani is the new face of the Democratic Party. Nope. He’s the face of the Democratic Party in New York City. Mikie Sherrill is the face of the Democratic Party in New Jersey, and Abigail Spanberger is the face of the Democratic Party in Virginia. We don’t have–we don’t need or want–a single face to represent the Democratic Party. We want a variety of faces and a medley of different voices all dedicated to civil rights and the needs of working people. This morning, we have more of that.

But we need still more. We want and need Democrats who will not just speak out against MAGA fascism in the US, but who will actively resist it. MAGA should be worried about last night’s electoral results, but the people who should be actually scared are the impotent Old Guard of the Democratic Party. They’ve convinced themselves that they’re helpless and weak against MAGA; they’ve allowed themselves to be cowed by Trump, they’ve been too timid to fight back. These election results are also a warning for them–either stand up and fight for democracy or get the fuck out of the way.

Yes, the news this morning is good. We should celebrate it. We should take as much joy as we possibly can from it. And then tomorrow (or what the hell, next week) we have to get back to work. The results of this one election isn’t going to turn the nation around. The US is still massively fucked up. It will remain massively fucked up for the near future. But this morning we see evidence that, with hard work, we can begin to unfuck the nation. That’s what I call good news.

So, in the words of the philosophers Kool & the Gang, “Let’s all celebrate and have a good time.”

it’s just a few fingers

Posted on by
5

Every few weeks Bsky has this…I can’t call it a discussion or an argument, because it’s neither of those things. Even calling a discourse doesn’t quite fit, because that term refers to a serious conversation–and while the subject is very very serious, it’s not a conversation. In a conversation, both sides (all sides) are attempting to communicate. This is about folks repeating their positions on the subject.

The subject is voting. The positions, essentially, are as follows:

  1. Vote for the Democrat even if they suck on a particular issue, because they’re still infinitely better than the Republican.
  2. I will not vote for somebody who opposes an issue that is central to my life.

The argument made folks in the first category is pretty simple: “I know your situation is precarious. I know you’re just barely holding on. I feel your pain. But you belong to a small subset of the voting population. In order to effect change, we have to first win the election. After we’ve done that, we can see about improving your situation.”

The argument made by folks in the second category is even more simple: “This is my life. I won’t vote for somebody who will make my life more difficult than it already is.”

Sorry, I hope you understand that I have to do this to win the election.

The counter-argument by the first category is: “To get elected, we may have to cause you some minor inconvenience. You may end up with a bruised finger. At worst, you’ll lose a finger. Maybe two. But the Republicans will happily chop off both your hands. Which is worse?”

The counter-counter-argument is: “I shouldn’t have to settle for which is worse. I want better. I deserve better. I won’t vote for a candidate who thinks I should settle for which is worse. I’ll only vote for a candidate who offers me better.”

The counter-counter-counter-argument is: “Refusing to vote for the Democrat guarantees you a future of being handless. If you vote for the Democrat, you’ll at least have the chance that eventually, at some vague point in the future, you’ll get some prosthetic fingers. If you’re patient, there’ll probably be a time when you’ll never have to worry about losing any of your appendages.”

The counter-etc. argument is: “Even if I vote for the Democrat, I’ll lose some fingers and maybe fall to my death. You’ll be sitting inside, safe and whole. You want my vote, give me a candidate who’ll protect my right to keep my hands. Give me a candidate who’ll take my hand and help me through the window. Give me a candidate who’ll welcome me into the room. Until then, nope.”

The thing is, both of those folks are right. They’re just not talking about the same thing. The folks in category 1 are concerned about winning elections, and it’s true that you can’t effect change unless you win elections. But the folks in category 2 are concerned about their survival and the survival of their people. Winning an election only matters to folks who get to survive.

I’m a cisgender hetero white guy. I recognize that I’ll probably be mostly safe, regardless of who wins. I’ll vote for the Democrat. But I’ll work for and support candidates who respect everybody’s civil rights. And I won’t fault or blame anybody who refuses to vote for a candidate who’s willing to chop off a few marginalized fingers, even if it means a Republican gets elected.

EDITORIAL NOTE: We must burn the patriarchy to the ground. We need to burn it, gather the ashes, piss on them, douse them in oil, and set them on fire again. Then drive a stake directly through the ashes where its heart used to be. Then set fire to the stake. Burn it and keep burning it for generations. Then nuke it from orbit (you know why). Then open a semi-dry Riesling and serve it with a nice Emmental cheese and some crackers. I mean, we’re not savages, are we.

Other Editorial Note: The illustration is by Sidney Paget, for the short story The Engineer’s Thumb in the 1892 edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

yeah, we’re going to attack venezuela

Posted on by
4

As you know, Comrade President Trump ordered the destruction of at least 10 vessels in the Caribbean, killing more than 40 people. He and Pete Hegseth (Secretary of Biceps) claim these boats were manned by Venezuelan drug couriers and jammed full of illegal Venezuelan drugs, but they haven’t offered an ounce of supporting evidence. Nor have they asked for Congressional approval to kill random Venezuelans.

Now Trump and Hegseth have ordered the aircraft-carrier USS Gerald R. Ford to leave the Mediterranean Sea and make way to the Caribbean. There are already eight Navy vessels (crewed by some 6,500 sailors and Marines) operating in the Caribbean region. Why do they need an aircraft carrier?

Good question.

By the way, this isn’t just any aircraft carrier. The Ford is the world’s largest aircraft carrier. In fact, she’s the largest warship ever constructed. She carries an air wing of 65 to 70 aircraft, including F/A-18 fighters, which have a range of over a thousand miles and can carry laser-guided bombs and missiles for air-to-air, air-to-ground, and anti-ship assaults. Wait, there’s more. The Ford is also the heart and command center of an entire carrier strike group. That means she’s usually accompanied by at least one cruiser (armed with guided missiles for ship-to-shore combat) as well as a couple of destroyers (also armed with missiles for both ship-to-shore or ship-to-ship combat) or frigates (similar to destroyers, but smaller, faster, and more maneuverable. but still stocked with a whole lot of missiles), as well as a logistic ship and a supply ship.

USS Gerald R. Ford

SO MANY MISSILES! Clearly, a carrier strike group is massively over-armed for attacking and sinking a few small suspected drug-running vessels. There’s only one reason to send the Ford and its attendant strike force to the Caribbean.

The US is going to attack targets ashore. Venezuelan targets.

Now, you may be wondering, “Greg, old sock, what has Venezuela ever done to us?” The answer is: nothing, really. I mean, sure, Trump says it’s all about drugs, but like so much of what he says, that’s bullshit. Relatively few drugs are trafficked through Venezuela. If it was about drugs, we’d be attacking Colombia or Mexico.

The most optimistic analysts suggest we’d attack Venezuela because the current government is making the region less stable; taking down the Maduro regime, they think, would help stabilize South America. But does anybody really believe Trump cares a rat’s ass about South American stabilization? Marco Rubio, the so-called Secretary of State, has some strong feelings about the Maduro government (I don’t know why and couldn’t be bothered to find out), but Trump wouldn’t open a door for Rubio, let alone attack a sovereign nation for him.

It might be because of the number of Venezuelan immigrants coming to the US. There are something like three-quarters of a million Venezuelan immigrants living here now. And who can blame them? Life in Venezuela is grim. But 750,000 Venezuelans is less that 2% of the immigrants living in the US. Then again, math isn’t Trump’s strong suit.

Bullying is his strong suit. Picking on much weaker opponents, that’s also one of Trump’s strong suits. And hey, we can safely bully Venezuela. I mean, their annual military budget is about 1/18th the cost of the USS Gerald Ford. I’m sure they’ll put up some sort of defense, but c’mon. It’s not what you’d call a fair fight.

I’m sure there are some military analysts who can cobble together some legitimate-sounding reason for the US to attack Venezuela. But the real reason is probably that Trump and Hegseth want an excuse to impress the world by the size of their dicks.