RIP: Ace of Spades Coblogger Emeritus Dave In Texas Has Passed. “His humor could also be broad and silly, as in the case of the Crap Tree. His wife liked a nice classy Christmas tree. Dave liked hanging up crap ornaments he got from 7-Eleven and postcard give-aways from Hawaiian Punch on the tree. So his wife got him his own special, stupid Crap Tree he could hang his Dumb Ornaments on.”
UPDATE: Also in Ace’s obit for Dave in Texas:
In every thread, Proud Liberal Vet appeared to tell us that Bush ordered him to use White Phosphorus on civilians. Dave asked, “What was your M.O.S.?” Proud Liberal Vet would suddenly disappear.
Ultimately Dave cornered him and it became clear that Proud Liberal Vet did not have the faintest idea what an M.O.S. is, which of course is impossible if you were ever in the military; you can’t not know what job you have, or what code is assigned to your job. You have to repeat that number and write it on forms ten thousand times a year.
All of this inspired Dave in Texas to write one of the finest parodies ever written on the Ace of Spades blog: “Antarctica Now,” a first person account, ostensibly from Proud Liberal Vet’s POV, about fighting Charlie in Antarctica. He wrote in in the comments.
I later put it in a post, but who knows how to find that old thing. Fortunately, Mrs. Peel found it and sent it over to Michaels Comments to post. So you can read “Antarctica Now” there, if you like.
And you really should — it’s long, but very funny:
Antarctica, shit. I’m still only in Antarctica. Every time I think I’m going to wake up back on the ice floe. When I was home after my first tour, it was worse. I’d wake up and there’d be nothing… I hardly said a word to my wife until I said yes to a divorce. When I was here I wanted to be there. When I was there, all I could think of was getting back into McMurdo. I’ve been here a week now. Waiting for a mission, getting softer. Every minute I stay in this tent I get weaker. And every minute Charlie squats in the snow he gets stronger.
Each time I look around the tent flaps move in a little tighter.
Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a mission, and for my sins they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service.******
I was going to the worst place in the world, and I didn’t even know it yet. Weeks away and hundreds of miles up a glacier that snaked through the ice like a main circuit cable and plugged straight into Byrd. It was no accident that I got to be the caretaker of Admiral Richard E. Byrd’s memory, any more than being back in McMurdo was an accident. There is no way to tell his story without telling
my own. And if his story is really a confession, then so is mine.*******
How many penguins had I already killed? There was those six that I know about for sure. Close enough to blow their last fishy breath in my face. But this time it was an American and an officer. That wasn’t supposed to make any difference to me, but it did. Shit…charging a man with murder in this place was like handing out snow shovels to Roald Amundsen. I took the mission. What the hell else was I gonna do? But I didn’t know what I’d do when I found him.
Read the whole thing when you have a few minutes to spare.
(Updated and bumped.)