Paperless Toilet Hygiene

I recently viewed a video, in which, the speaker made the claim that Americans use 13 billion pounds of paper towels in a year. He said that we should modify our hand drying behavior to use only one paper towel to dry our hands. This would reduce consumption to 571 million pounds of paper towels per year. The man demonstrated how to shake wet hands over the basin 12 times before drying them in order to need only one paper towel to finish the job.

This idea started me thinking. What about toilet paper? I have to believe that there potential to reduce toilet paper consumption, too.  I can’t imagine a person shaking their butt 12 times over the commode and wiping with only on sheet of toilet paper. Nonetheless, this has to be a possibility for saving some trees.

The fact is that the average American uses approximately 50 lbs of toilet paper per year. That is, no doubt, going to vary some between wadders and folders. The solution would be to get everyone folding their toilet paper instead of wadding it because wadders, not only waste toilet paper, the plug up toilets.

Even the folders could cut back on usage.  It only requires six sheets of toilet paper, neatly folded into the size of one square, to do a sufficient wipe. Most folders probably use twice that amount. Wadders, well... let’s just say that they’re way over the limit. This is evident by the need for Roto-Rooter whenever we have certified wadders for house guests.

I know that there will be concern for a finger making a poke hole in the folded paper with only six layers.  Trust me, though! It works. If it doesn't then relax! That’s why there are basins in the restroom and, of course, you wash your hands anyway, I hope. If you’re truly having a serious problem with your fingers poking holes in six layers of paper then you might consider trimming your nails.

The truth is that I've seen nails on people who should be required to have a permit for carrying weapons. Seriously, I have to wonder how some people can wipe their butt without removing hemorrhoids at the same time. They wouldn't dare pick their nose with those finger spades unless they are up for a lobotomy.

I read an article a long time back, written by a homemaker, who kept clean rags available for her family. She kept an ample supply of wipe rags in a basket on the wall and in reach of anyone on the throne. Used rags were tossed into a pail, which had a lid and sat beside the toilet. The soiled rages were laundered regularly and returned to the basket for reuse.

My fear would be of house guests or visitors, who might, out of habit or ignorance, drop the rags into the toilet and flush them. If the rags made it through the sewer system then the next worry would be more frequent cleaning of the septic tank.

Another possibility would be that grandchildren may not fully understand the process. With my luck, I’d be the first one in behind one of them who put a used rag back into the basket on the wall. That could be some nasty crap to handle.

A bidet would allow a person to do the job without any paper or rags. I don’t think that I could get used to that though. There is just something about having warm water squirting on my blow hole that doesn’t seem appealing. Then you would have to use paper to dry off anyway unless the bidet also included a warm air blow job.

Another possibility along the same line as a bidet would be to sit right down into the water of a toilet basin. A lot people don’t know it but when you poop with your butt under water you don’t need to wipe. You only need to dry off. Think about it. Fish don’t wipe their butts.

Actually, I figured this out once when I was skinning dipping in a river. I had a strong need to push some poop but didn’t have any toilet paper. Then the obvious occurred to me. Fish poop the water so why can’t I?

It worked out quite nicely. The river current acted like a perpetual flush to carry the nastiness downstream. The best part was when I did a reach under, thinking that I would have to do a bare hand scrub. Not so. Like tiny scrubbing bubbles the current had left the blow hole and surrounding area zestfully clean.

I think that if a toilet was designed for sitting in, instead of on, then it would have to have a perpetual flush that would replicate the river current. I made the mistake of doing an underwater discharge in still water once. I ended up with a bunch of floaters that surrounded me. 

When I tried to move away they followed. I managed to escape at all ahead full and left them in the wake. For a minute, though, I felt like I was in a world of shit.

There is one strong warning that I should offer in case that you ever want to try pooping with the fishes. Watch out for aquatic critters that live in the shallows along the water’s edge. There are critters that make their home along the shoreline that you don’t want thinking that you’re something to nibble on.

Man or woman, I have to believe that there are some things that you just don’t want nibbled on,  by aquatic critters, when you’re skinny dipping. There just has to be an easier way than a crayfish pinch to get a vasectomy. Can you imagine the genital modifications that a snapping turtle could do for you? 

It reminds me of those goobers on the National Geographic channel who go noodling for catfish. They never go noodling without their pants on, though. As stupid as they might seem, they know better than that.

Olongapo City, Balut, San Miguel Beer and a Crapper Lacking the Essentials

Boilerman Second Class Rick Boswell and his friends sat around a table at the Baile Hai Bar putting down San Miguel beer. Their ship arrived that morning, at the U.S. Naval Station in Subic Bay, for repairs and general upkeep. They had been after laying off the coast of Viet Nam for the last 29 days to run patrols and to provide cannon fire support for the ground troops. It was time to unwind.

Boswell’s regular Olongapo sweetie spent what time that she could with him but, unless he bought drinks for her, then she had to keep moving about the tables and working other sailors for drinks. That was one way that the girls and the bar made their profit. The sailors would buy a thimble full of dyed tea for the girls at three times the price of a bottle of San Miguel, from which, the bar gave the girls a cut of the inflated price.

About four bottles of beer into the evening, the sailors asked Danny, the Filipino guy who often hung around the table, to make a run for monkey meat. Danny always hung around as if he was a friend but his real purpose was to hustle the sailors for whatever he could. When he returned with what was to be supper for the sailors he held out the change. One of the sailors told him to keep it.

A boy with a basket of eggs had followed Danny into the bar. Boys, like this one, were a common sight on the main street of the bar district in Olongapo City. They walked the streets carrying their basket of eggs and calling out, “baa… loot, baa… loot, baa… loot.” A balut wasn't an egg by any western standards.

Baluts contained an unhatched duckling developed up the point of hatching. Few American sailors would eat balut. Boswell was an exception when he had consumed enough San Miguel to be in the mental zone between “no common sense” and “just plain stupid.” He haggled for price with the kid and offered to buy a balut for his shipmates. There were no takers.

Boswell paid for one balut and set it in an empty ashtray from the next table. He liked to play this event out for all of the drama that he could. One of the Olongapo cherry boys asked what the balut was. Cherry boy was what the sailors called first-timers to Olongapo City.

One of the sailors, who refused to eat balut but had seen them cracked open, gave a graphic description of the details of the contents.

“There’s this little dead chick in there that is just a few days from when it woulda’ hatched. Its head, legs, feet and wings are all there. Most of them even have a few feathers on them. It’s disgusting. There’s not too many things that I won’t try to eat but them things are too extreme for me.”

“What do they taste like?”

“There’s one way to find out.” Boswell held the balut out to him.

Cherry Boy’s face contorted in disgust and he shook his head.

When Boswell decided that he had played out the drama enough he cracked the balut. He didn't just break it open like one might do a hard-boiled egg. Boswell was very careful to open only the end of the shell.

Boswell sealed his lips around the opening, tipped the egg and sucked the juice from within. He made a point to exaggerate the sucking sounds for benefit of his audience. Expressions of, disgust, disbelief and even and amusement showed on the faces around the table.

Boswell wasn't done. He carefully peeled the egg shell down just less than half way. This exposed the tiny head of the little bird embryo lying lifeless against the body. Boswell looked round the table at the various expressions and put the egg to his mouth again. He flipped the little head around with his tongue a few times before putting it between his teeth and chomping it off of the embryo.

Sounds of both disgust and laughter came from the sailors around table. Boswell peeled the rest of the shell back and held it up to show the near developed ducking to everyone before he popped it into his mouth. He always enjoyed putting on this show when the ship was in Subic Bay. Boswell had preceded the balut with too much San Miguel to notice that the taste was off a little.

An hour or two later Boswell began to feel a little weird inside. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t go to chow before he left the ship because he was busy shutting down all of the boilers. Normally the ship would keep one boiler running while in Subic Bay but this time the ship was to be in cold-iron status for a retrofit needed on the boilers.

Boswell didn’t feel like he was going to vomit, as might be expected after consuming monkey meat, a balut and too much San Miguel. It was more like the solids in his innards were being hurried on through. In his drunkenness, he visualized a line boss in his innards having a fit and shouting, “I told you to get this crap outta’ here.” That was exactly how he felt.

Pressure was building inside of him on the lower end. Boswell didn't want to use what passed for a restroom at the Baile Hai except to drain processed San Miguel. It was little more that an indoor version of an outdoor privy. The pressure continued to build in Boswell’s colon until he had no choice.

Stepping into the dingy restroom, Boswell was thankful that no one had pissed on the toilet seat. As a matter of fact, he thought, it’s a good thing that there is a toilet seat. After all, this was Olongapo City. With all of that aside, Boswell dropped his white uniform trousers and the blow came before he was completely settled into the drop.

It was a wet and mushy blow like what shoots from under a bull’s tail. Boswell was thankful that he got the white pants down and his butt over the hole in time. He could have been in a world of shit.

Relieved that everything had come out alright, Boswell relaxed as he pushed the final squirts through. Whether it was the monkey meat, balut or San Miguel that messed him up, Boswell didn't know. It didn't matter, though, because he had just realized the he had a much bigger problem.

Looking about the indoor privy, Boswell saw no paper of any sort. There was no tissue, no paper towels, no Sears catalog and no pages from the Subic Times. There definitely wasn't any squeezably soft Charmin.

Boswell weighed his options. Snatching paper from the next stall wasn't an option. There were no stalls or privacy of any sort.

He considered ripping up his boxers but worried that, in his present condition; he might have a wet fart later. Wet farts with dress whites could be bad enough. Wet farts with dress whites and no skivvies would be disastrous.  

The thought of wiping with his bare hand and then washing up at the basin even crossed his mind. He got over the idea quickly, though, with the reality that there was no basin. Finally, one of his friends came into the privy.

 “Hey Boz! Are you alright? Anita is worrying about you because you’ve been gone for so long.”

“There isn’t any toilet paper.”

“Let me see what I can do.” The friend disappeared.

It seemed like forever that Boswell waited. He thought that if he waited long enough there would be a dried crust that he would scrap off with his pocket comb. He waited and waited but no one even came in to use the restroom, much less, to help him.

Sitting there staring at his shoes, it came to him. Boswell untied his left shoe, took it off and peeled off his sock. With a series of strategic wipes and folds he got the job done with just one sock.

Boswell was standing and buckling his webbed belt when his friend showed up with a facial tissue in hand. Yes, one facial tissue was all that anyone could find. At least, it looked fresh and unused

 “You have… to be shittin’ me.”  Boswell looked at his friend in total disbelief.

Frog Day is a Good Thing?

A friend of mine recently told me, via an email dialogue, that May 13 is Frog Day in Feng Shui. I have no idea what Feng Shui is and she didn't offer an explanation. My first guess was that it might be a city in China. My second thought was of an eastern religion or philosophy.

Regardless of my ignorance of Feng Shui, the strangest thought popped into my mind. It was the question of whether Frog Day was a good thing or a bad thing for frogs. There are various rattlesnake celebrations that occur in different parts of the American southwest that are best avoided by rattlesnakes.

The celebrations vary but one consistency is that a lot of snake skins get turned into belts, boots and hat bands. Not only that but snake flesh is marinated or seasoned and cooked over a roasting fire. It just doesn’t sound like a very good celebration, in which to be, a rattlesnake.

 If I was a rattlesnake at one of those celebrations, I’d be hanging over the top of a billboard that depicted cattle grazing in a pasture. Whenever somebody came within shouting range I’d be calling out to them.

“Eat more beef!”

If that succeeded in getting attention then I might add another line.

“Beef hide, it’s what’s for belts and boots!”

Anyway, back to Frog Day. I just happen to like eating frog legs. I don’t do it often but when I do I have this indelible image that surfaces in my mind. It is a visual of disabled frogs leaving the frog leg processing facility on stretchers and going next door to get fitted with prosthetics or get a free wheel chair. Yeah, I know. Call me twisted.

You know, if I was a frog in that condition, I’d want some way to get around. You can’t just give up on life because you lost your legs. Besides, Obama Care will pay for it.

As a frog, I don’t know if I could get used to prosthetics  though. A frog has enough trouble with bumping his butt on the landing anyway. Prosthetics might have a tendency to trip you up or make you tumble and poke yourself in the eye.

I think that I’d prefer a custom wheelchair with the option of an amphibious travel mode. It couldn’t be that hard to make an amphibious model. Just set it up with an inflatable artificial lily pad that blows up underneath of the chair. Why would you want to hang around on land, with a bunch of ugly toads, all of the time?

Even better, Hov-a-round might get in on the market. The unit could be powered by a lithium-ion battery that could be charged by day via a solar collector. The chair could have all terrain tires in case that you wanted to visit the toads in the backwoods once in awhile. Best of all, when in the aqua mode, there could be a battery-powered mini Evinrude for fast get away from predators. Heck, maybe a dive mode could even be an option.

It would be great to see some Frog Day veterans hanging out on the convalescent’s pond in their hi-tech Hov-a-rounds. They’d be sipping lily liquor and tongue-snatching mosquitoes from the air while they all told their individual war stories. Embellishments to the stories would be allowed, of course.

“Yeah, I lost both of my legs in the summer of ’98 in south Florida. Them damn crackers was braving the mosquitoes better than we thought that they could that night. Took us totally by surprise, they did.”

“Mine was in the spring of ’07. I was living up north.  I had just come out of hibernation. Damn kids were fishing for crappy. They saw me while I was just trying to take in some fresh air. It had been a long winter on the bottom of the pond. Next thing that I knew, they had me in their fish net.”

“That’s what you call getting out of bed too early.” The first frog chuckled at his own remark.

“Yeah, but the worst of it was that them kids didn't know what they was doing when they took my legs. I ended up losing my ass in the deal.

Innocent Candor

I had a flashback of an incident involving one of my sons when he was about four-years-old. I had developed a rather large hemorrhoid and had a doctor appointment to get the problem checked. We had some other things do while we were out so my doctor appointment was part of a family event for the day.

Being a typical four-year-old, Tim was inquiring with a series of questions as to the plan of the day.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the doctor.”

Doctor appointments aren't always a pleasant experience in a child’s memory so the next question was to be exspected.

“Why?”

I have always believed that when children ask a question then you should answer honestly but within their ability to understand.

“I have to get my butt checked.”

That satisfied him. As long the doctor visit didn't involve him and sharp instruments then he was perfectly okay with going to the doctor. The boys were kept occupied, by their mother, with storybooks while I was in the examining room.

After the exam I was at the reception counter dealing with the ka-ching part of the doctor visit. Tim saw me and came running to greet me.

“Hey Dad!”

“Hey Buddy!”

“Did the doctor check your butt, Dad?”

I didn't blink. I was getting what was coming to me.

“Yep, he sure did.”

I looked at the receptionist with just a little bit of embarrassment. She looked back with a little smile that I took to mean; it happens all of the time. Don’t worry.

“Never any privacy, huh?” She spoke softly so that everyone in the waiting area didn't hear her but it wasn't necessary. Tim had already made an adequate disclosure.

A Hose Job

Getting taken advantage of isn't hard to do when purchasing auto repairs and service. One of my favorite stories is of a tire man that told me that I needed a new front wheel bearing hub before he could align the front end on my car. He didn't know that the bearing hub had less than 15,000 miles on it.

The tire man also didn't count on the possibility that I was the person that installed the bearing hub and, thus, would install the next one, if needed. The short story is that I wasted some time taking the car apart only to end up putting it back together with original bearing hub. The new bearing hub that I purchased from the auto parts store was returned for a refund. Four years later, I’m still running the bearing hub that the tire man said was worn out.

I should mention, also, that my five years of customer loyalty ended with that tire dealership. It is because of experience like this that I try to do most my own auto repairs. There are some things that I can’t do but, most of what I may not know exactly how to do, I can figure out.

The old Dodge Dakota had a leak yesterday on the upper radiator hose. I checked Rock Auto, an online supplier, which I often use for parts purchases. I also checked availability and price at one of the local discount auto parts chains. Rock Auto was, by far, the best value.

The price of both an upper and lower radiator hose, complete with shipping costs, was less than $30 at Rock Auto. The local discount store, on the other hand, wanted $40 for only an upper radiator hose. I decided to check with NAPA in the morning.

NAPA is often pricier than other auto suppliers but three things make them a good resource. First, their counter help is generally very knowledgeable and, thus, very helpful. Second, a lot of customers don’t know but NAPA will haggle down sometimes to keep you from going to the competition. Last, their parts are always of the best quality in the market.

I gave the counter person make, model, year and engine size of the Dakota and told him what part that I needed. This is a good example of why I like NAPA. The upper radiator hose for this model of Dakota consists of two hose pieces and a plastic fitting that can each be purchased separately or as an assembly. Before he gave me an availability and price quote he confirmed that I wanted the whole assembly.

The man quoted $32 for the hose assembly. I looked down at floor and hesitated. When I looked back at him I quoted my online price of $27 for both upper and lower radiator hoses.

“Yes, but then you have to pay shipping,” he countered.

“No Sir. That includes shipping.”

“Yes, but are you getting the whole hose assembly?”

“I wasn’t going to let you sell me only part of the set and I’m not going let Rock Auto sell me less than the full assembly either.”

Though man was polite he hadn't yet ran out of “yes, buts.”

“Yes, but how long will it last?”

“Well,” I said, “it’s of the Goodyear brand, which doesn't mean that it wasn't made by slave labor in a third world country, but there are still Goodyear standards to be maintained. What’s more, the present hose is original equipment and has lasted over 180,000 miles. If I can get half of that out of the new hose then it might outlast the engine.”

There is a time to talk and a time to shut up. I said no more but hesitated in a half turn toward the exit. I was holding out for him to drop the price, at least, a little. The man turned his computer screen toward me.

“You see. This is the price.” He pointed to the $32. What he didn’t point to, but I saw clearly, was $44 in the next column.

Okay, so he had already discounted the price. I hesitated another moment. Meanwhile, another customer had stepped to the counter. The man turned the screen back. It was time to decide if it was a deal or no deal?

“I’ll take it.”

“You’ll take it?” As if he wasn't clear, he had to confirm. Maybe I had been more convincing than I thought that I might walk out.

There was a possibility that I might be able to tease the problem along for few days while I waited on Rock Auto to ship the lower cost hose assembly. Then again, a cooked engine would be a high price to pay for saving a few dollars on parts.

When I got home I let the Dakota set for a couple of hours to cool before I changed the hose assembly. I topped off the cooling system with water instead of coolant. A short drive confirmed that the leak was repaired. I’ll flush and refill the system with the proper concentration of coolant soon when I install the replacements for the other old hoses.

I ordered the lower radiator hose and a new set of heater hoses from Rock Auto. I really should have changed all of the hoses some time back as they deteriorate over time. Then I wouldn't have been trying to haggle for a few dollars with NAPA. It’s better to change old hoses before they wear out and strand you somewhere. After all, the Dakota is ten years old and a high mileage vehicle.

When I get the new hoses installed then maybe a mechanic or tire man will tell me that they’re worn out.

This Land is Our Land

I saw a Facebook poster recently that read America Takes Better Care of Its Illegals Than Its Vets. The poster originated from a Facebook site called The Red, White and Blue. The site makes no bones about their political leanings.

My personal assessment of how veterans are treated versus how illegal aliens are treated fails to find favor for the illegal aliens. Veterans have all rights of US citizens or resident aliens. Illegal aliens have no rights of US citizenship unless temporarily obtained by false documents.

This means that veterans can compete with all other US citizens for available employment. Illegal aliens are denied employment for lack of documentation of US citizenship. The illegal aliens’ only option for employment, without falsified documents, is to work for substandard wages wherever they can find illegal employment.

Veterans, when they become employed as civilians, are protected by unemployment benefits, Worker’s Compensation, OSHA and a guaranteed minimum wage. Illegal aliens have none of these guaranteed government sanctioned benefits. In addition, veterans are likely to receive health insurance and retirement benefits from their employers that are not available to illegal aliens.

The only health care option for an illegal alien, other than paying out of pocket, is to seek care at a hospital emergency room where they cannot be refused. That option is equally available to US citizens and resident aliens who may not have health insurance. Maybe there is something that the author of the Facebook poster knows that I don’t.

I believe it is also worth acknowledging that the first illegal aliens to this continent came in the early 17^th century on sailing ships from Europe. This is a fact that few contemporary Americans seem to be aware of, much less, agree with. The continent was systematically stolen from the indigenous people by the foreigners.

There is no doubt that the European immigrants and their descendants did more to develop the continent than was being done by the indigenous population at the time. It seems sinful, however, that the two races could not coexist and learn from each other. The land might have been developed without ravishing it, if the two cultures could have worked together.

Four hundred years later, the same race of indigenous people, from the far south of the continent, seek the benefits and wealth of these lands. We call them illegal aliens. There some 12 million of them living in the United States now.

In the first ten years following 1830 approximately 100,000 indigenous people, from what we now call, North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida and Mississippi were relocated to what is now the east half of Oklahoma. One need not even do the math. Simply look at a map to fathom what happened in terms of taking people from millions of acres of land and relocating them to some mere thousands of acres. There is something to be learned from the tragic experience of the Trail of Tears.

Without a doubt, there is an illegal immigration problem in the United States. However, even with modern transportation, how could 12 million illegal aliens be repatriated in any practical sense? Second, how do we fill the labor vacuum that they will leave behind? Whether legally employed or not, they do fill a huge labor niche. Third, what is Mexico to do with their repatriated citizens? They certainly haven’t fled to the US to get away from Mexico’s prosperity. You can say that it is their problem but, in fact, it will be a world problem to keep innocent people from starving in refugee camps. 

Last, how is it that Cubans, once they set foot on American soil, are allowed resident alien status in the United States without challenge? What is it that Cubans bring to the United States that makes their illegal immigration tolerable when the Mexican immigration is not?

We should not forget the race of people who were forced to migrate to this continent from Africa. The first of these immigrants to Virginia were treated the same as European indentured servants. After providing labor for a given amount of years they were given freedom and a piece of land for their own. Gradually, however, laws were changed in Virginia to keep African immigrants enslaved indefinitely.

During Abraham Lincoln’s term as president he had hope of returning black Americans to Africa. This notion did not consider the reality that there was no “return” as generations had passed and that made the United States home for these slaves. They were no longer Africans. They were Americans.

The first transcontinental railroad across the US was built with immigrant labor from Mexico, China and Ireland. Freed slaves were also part of the labor force. The mix of nationalities and races not only made America, they are America.

Too many Americans have a narrow view of whom and what made America. How can there be Americans who proudly trace their ancestry to Jamestown, Virginia in the early 17^th century without acknowledging that there are Americans who know their ancestry to be centuries before that? How can there be Americans who know their heritage as descendants of immigrants but yet deny the same claim to others.

This land is our land applies to more than a select few. It applies to everyone who contributes, builds, and gives loyalty and fights for our country. The most decorated ethnic group of soldiers in the United States in World War II was of Latino heritage. This land is OUR land!

U.S. Air Force Ugliness Is Spelled RAPE

If anyone is tired of seeing Lt Col Jeffrey Krusinki’s scratched-face mug shot then you shouldn’t start yawning yet. Read on. The Air Force has some serious problems with how their members treat female airmen. Krusinski is just the ugly inflamed tip of a deeper festering pustule within the Air Force.

Lackland Air Force Base, near Sana Antonio, Texas, is where all enlisted recruits go through eight weeks of recruit training or boot camp, as it is also known. Each year the facility processes 30,000 to 40,000 recruits for further training and assignment in the Air Force. Of those, about five percent are women.

Allegations of sexual assault surfaced in June of 2011 that first resulted in Staff Sgt. Luis Walker being convicted of the RAPE of one female recruit and sexually assaulting several others. Walker was sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Since Walker’s conviction, many other members of the Lackland staff and leadership have been convicted or are under investigation. Charges are not limited to crimes of servicemen against servicewomen. Staff Sgt. Emily Allen is facing charges in a court martial for having sex with a male recruit.

As the temptation for a nudge and a grin goes around, with regard to this case, one should keep in mind that Staff Sgt. Allen was the empowered and trusted person of the two. Regardless of which gender is in the position of power and, whether the act was consensual or forced, military leaders are expected to maintain a professional relationship with all recruits. Fraternization should not be tolerated.

What’s more, the recruit may not have actually been attracted to the Staff Sgt. She could have been 10-15 years his senior and had physical attributes that he found unappealing, it is conceivable that he did not feel that he had a choice when she came on to him given that he was a recruit and she was a staff member. Of course, this is only speculation. Whatever happened is for the court martial to sort out.

Investigation and allegations of the Lackland scandal are still going on. However, now investigations are focusing more around what initial reports were provided, if any, and if appropriate actions were taken based on those reports.

The Air Force recently said that five commanders were disciplined for either not being timely in reporting problems and incidents or not taking proper action when given information of problems or incidents. The names of these commanders have not been released as their discipline was not the result of adjudication by court martial.

As the Uniform Code of Military Justice is presently written, military commanders are empowered to overturn court martial convictions with no other reason than that they believe that the defendant presented an adequate defense and court was wrong. Legislation is pending in both the House and the Senate to strip commanders of this empowerment.

There is a tendency, within the good ol’ boy network of commanders to take favor over some service members convicted within their command. This was the case in November of 2012 when Air Force Lt. Gen. Craig Franklin overturned the conviction of Lt. Col. James Wilkerson for sexual assault and other charges that he committed against a civilian Air Force employee. Wilkerson was to be discharged from the Air Force and serve one year in jail.

Proponents of this process say that it is not a good ol’ boy action but simply “the law” according to the UCMJ. If that is the case then why did the Air Force go to the trouble of putting Wilkerson through a trial and his victim through the trauma of testifying? Why not skip straight to the commander for simply deciding that the defendant is not guilty? That was the ultimate result.

To further salt the wound for the victim, she was not notified of this decision but, rather, heard of it as everyone else did. That still wasn't enough “not guilty” for Lt. Gen. Wilkerson. He was also added to the promotion list.

Eventually, the public outcry was loud enough that Wilkerson quietly retired from the Air Force. We shouldn't forget that his original conviction stripped him of that retirement by mandating his separation from the Air Force. The commander reinstated it by overturning the conviction.

There are women in the good ol’ boy network, too. The network is strong and well-rooted in the military. Regardless of gender, if one is going to rise in the ranks, then he or she must learn and follow the unwritten rules to survive. For women, it would seem, the fear of losing favor within the network is amplified by a naturally smaller set of resources within the network.

Lt. Gen. Susan Helm overturned a conviction for sexual assault on an Air Force captain in February of last year. That action is being scrutinized by the Senate and may prevent the former astronaut from being promoted to vice commander of the Air Force’s Space Command. Lt. Gen. Helm holds the honor of being the first U.S. military woman to travel into space.

Last weekend Lt. Col. Jeffrey Krusinski became the poster boy for Air Force ineptitude with handling RAPE and sexual crimes. As the head of the Air Force Sexual Assault Prevention and Response program, he was the absolute last person in the Air Force that should be charged with sexual crimes. Nonetheless, his unhappy face is posted everywhere in the media this week with stories of allegations against him for groping a woman in a parking lot while he was in a state of drunkenness.

Sexual Assault Prevention and Response or SAPR, as it is also known, was established in 2004 by the direction of, then Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfield. The purpose was to establish a consistent plan to stop sexual crimes in all of the military services with a solid top down leadership and accountability. Sadly, the leadership part didn't work out so well for the Air Force.

On the positive side, if Krusinski is convicted, it will be in a civilian court. His commander will be unable to overturn his conviction and give him a clean slate. In addition, any jail time given for the conviction will prevent him from reporting for duty to the Air Force. That could result in his, less than honorable, discharge from the Air Force and thwart any possibility of “quietly” retiring.