The Daily Poop - Sunday evening, 21JUN

Today's leg of the journey from Illinois to Norfolk took us through West Virginia. Say what you will about West Virginia ("Your brother is your father, but your father don't know"), I hold the state dear because my mother, the Blessed Virginia Petrie Mullen, Pearl of Wisdom and Mother of Greatness, was born there. 

However, West Virginia slipped a bit today. Upon entering the state around noon, we decided to make a quick stop in Barboursville. Our goal for this quick stop was merely to grab a quick bite in a fast food joint, so that when we reached our evening's destination a few hours later, we could enjoy a full meal.

To recap: a quick stop in a fast food joint for a quick meal.

At this point in the narrative, everything goes downhill. Quick and fast.

The kid at the cash register in McDonald's couldn't operate the cash register. If you've ever peeked behind the curtain at a McDonald's' cash register, you know that arithmetic is superfluous to the taking or orders. The only required skill is to be able to differentiate between, say, a picture of a Big Mac and a Chicken McNuggets. You press the pictures instead of keys with numbers on them.

But the kid couldn't manage it, so he called Cheryl. I don't know what Cheryl's job description requires, but apparently, it requires neither showing a new employee how to press pictures of meat nor pressing pictures of meat herself. At this point, Cheryl turned and hollered to a nearby supervisor, "We have a problem."

 Indeed we do. The problem is that we've forgotten the meaning of "fast food." Fast food used to be fast. You walked into McDonald's and the burgers were already waiting for you, lined up in slanted chutes under a heat lamp. You asked for a burger and somebody handed you a burger. It was fast. That's why they called it fast food.

They didn't call it "good food," because it wasn't; they called it "fast food," because it was. That's why you went there. You didn't want to make a reservation at La Maison Etoille, put on a jacket and tie, and have someone named Jacques take your order and watch him kiss his fingertips in approval. You wanted a burger. Fast. So you went to a fast food joint.

Now, McDonald's has gone into the slow-motion business. Even when they can accurately press the proper pictures, you take a number and wait while somebody cooks you a burger somewhere, gives it to someone who mixes up the order and brings you somebody else's lunch. 

Nothing's fast about fast food anymore. The only thing that remains the same is that the food tastes like fast food. The entire fast food experience is much like it was in its heyday, with the exception of the fact that it isn't fast.

But the Barboursville, WV McDonald's today had regressed at the speed of light, from fast food to slow food, and, finally, to no food.

This was supposed to be a quick stop for fast food. The food wasn't fast, the stop wasn't quick, so we left. Burger King was right next door.

We were second in line at Burger King. The woman working the register completed the transaction with the patron in front of us, and, just as I was about to say, "Two medium onion rings, a Coke and a Sprite," she disappeared. Five minutes later, she returned and said, "Excuse me, I'll be right with you."

And she was gone again. A few minutes later, I saw her working the driver-through window. Then she disappeared. A few minutes later, my wife said, "Look," so I looked. The woman was emptying the trash can in the parking lot.

Barboursville isn't in West Virginia. It's in the Twilight Zone. It's the town that time forgot. I was about to suggest to Jo that we leave, but where else could we go? In Barboursville, there isn't any food. There are only cash registers with pictures of food.

Finally, a man appeared behind the counter and asked if we'd been waited on. No, I said, and I was about to expound upon the experience of not being waited on, a way of life in Barboursville, but my wife has a sharp elbow that occasionally prevents me from expounding.

It took us 51 minutes to get fast food in Barboursville, West Virginia, but I was no longer upset. I was at peace, because I had found the solution.

I'm going to file a complaint. Not with McDonald's. Not with Burger King. I'm going to the top, to the real fixer, the righter of wrongs.

I know this will sound strange, but I've decided to complain to Donald Trump. This is right up his alley. Something is wrong with America. You can't get fast food in a fast food joint anymore. This is the sort of thing that Donald Trump loves to get involved in. JD Vance can handle the war while Donald Trump weighs in on the real problem 

If there's one thing Donald Trump knows how to do, it's how to weigh in on something. He weighs in on things you'd think would be beneath the concerns of a president. 

When Cracker Barrel decided to change its signs and modify its dining experience, Donald Trump weighed in. In fact, I seem to recall he took the credit for Cracke Barrel's backtracking. I don't know if it's true, but I recall tweets, or X's, or Truths lambasting the wokeness--whatever that it--of one of America's cultural institutions.

I can think of no cultural institution more central to the world's vision of America than fast food. America is fast food. Hurry, hustle, make a buck, grab a quick bite in a fast food joint.

Well, at least America used to be fast food. But, really, without fast food, what are we?

 

 

To Our Active-duty Comrades

"On Armed Forces Day, we honor the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Coast Guardsmen who render the highest service any American can offer.... I urge citizens to learn more about military service by attending and participating in the local observances of the day. I also encourage Americans to volunteer at organizations that provide support to our troops and their families." 

-- 2014 Armed Forces Day Presidential Proclamation (full text here.)

Among all patriotic holidays, Armed Forced Day stands out as an observance of all those currently on active duty. In other words, it is not a day look back, but to look around.

And what you'd see--if you could, indeed, look around at all the parades, ceremonies and displays that honor our active-duty compatriots--is military musicians.



Who helps citizens "learn about military service by attending and participating in ...local observances"? Military musicians. Every military band is a representative of its branch of service; sometimes, particularly to audiences in isolated areas who are fortunate enough to have a visit from a traveling unit, a military band is it's branch of service.

Who are the volunteers "at organizations that provide support to our troops and their families"? Military musicians. Every military musician on active duty today is a volunteer who has offered his or her talents to serve a cause greater than self. In this respect, they are patriots.

Armed Forces Week has not been a vacation for these patriots; it has been a time of work, important work. And we who once did his work understand and offer thanks to our brothers and sisters who serve today in military bands. We know what it's like when the guest of honor doesn't get the day off.

Navy Musician's Lexicon

Revised and expanded:

JUL2020

AUG2019

OCT2016

JUL2014

NOV2012

FEB2010

APR2009 

SEP2008

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Navy Musician's Dictionary

administrative petty officer: A french horn player.

Autovon: Toll-free Navy telephone system used by seamen for supervised official calls, by administrative POs for unsupervised official calls, and CPOs for all-night gabfests with old buddies in Yokosuka.

axe: A musical instrument issued by the Supply Petty Officer for the performance of duties, or, in the case of clarinets, a sharp-bladed tool for chopping wood.

bag band: A ceremonial unit, named after the pouches of march-sized music the musicians sling over their shoulders. "Oh hell, another bag band gig."

basso continuo: The effect that is achieved when the sousaphone player in the last rank misses the turn.

big band: A bag band without clarinets.

bitter end:

1. The part of a rope that is tied to a secure object.
2. The effect achieved when the trombone section misses the drum major's cutoff.

blues progression: The mental transition the MU undergoes when reading a piece of paper from BUPERS that

• begins with the word "Hawaii,"
• contains the word "ORDMOD," and
• concludes with the word "Norfolk."

change of command: Proof that musicians, like cows, can sleep while standing up.

civilian: A term of endearment referring to half the personnel in the U.S. Navy Band.

chord changes: The effect created when four Navy trombone players attempt to sustain tones whose duration is greater than a whole note.

CLINK-CLANK: Band of the Commander-in-chief of the Atlantic Fleet (CINCLANT).

comp time: The 73 measures that pass while the trombone player tries to figure out when his solo begins.

cymbal crash modulation: A sudden transition between keys that are not closely-related.

Disney World: Place of employment for MUs who quit the Navy because they're tired of wearing uniforms and marching in parades.

ditty bag: The XO's wife who thinks she can sing.

dog watch: The guy in the van's passenger seat in charge of pointing out women while driving through an Army base.

dream sheet: A transfer request form upon which you are required to write the name of every stateside, overseas and seagoing band, in return for which you receive a letter congratulating you on having your request approved.

duty gig: An occasional nuisance that interferes with getting your real work done.

ensign: The guy in front of the band who was standing behind you last week.

equal temperament: A method of forecasting how the day will go that divides the chief's mood disorder into twelve equal stages ranging from mildly belligerent to acutely hostile.

first call: What you're thinking about when the bartender announces last call.

foul anchors: to botch the music during a ceremony. "What a rotten gig--we slaughtered 'Washington Post' and fouled 'Anchors.'"

harp: Rating badge insignia for MU.

harmony: the musical effect created by two Navy trombonists performing a unison passage.

head chart: A diagram, used during field day, that shows the precise arrangement of toiletries in the officers' restroom.

high and tight: The condition of the trumpet section during the last set.

key signature: The handwritten name on your chit next to the block checked "approved."

march tempo: A pace whose speed is dependent upon how late the bass drummer was out last night.

military time: Those few, hurried minutes sandwiched in between pay gigs.

Morning Colors: An event consisting of a short march to the flagpole, a few Sousa marches, a bugle call, the National Anthem, another bugle call, "Anchors Aweigh" and a walk back to band quarters, all of which lasts about a half an hour and is listed in the bandmaster's report as two parades, two concerts, two duty-bugler gigs and a ceremony.

Navy Exchange: The process by which a long-haired, tattooed guitar player in camouflage gear becomes a bald, tattooed guitar player in camouflage gear who can read music.

Navy special: Any of a number of dance band arrangements written for training purposes in the years after World War II. Variously described as "marvelously complex and challenging" or "hideously over-written."

Navy triplets: A three-note sequence of notes of sort-of-equal duration, usually consisting of:

1. a dotted eighth note, followed by
2. a sixteenth-note which is tied to
3. a final eighth note.

Navy van: A remarkable feat of automotive engineering that carries four times its stated maximum load, never needs its oil changed and can be shifted directly from forward into reverse while the vehicle is in motion.

Pat O:

1. Patriotic Opener, music performed before a special event.
2. Opening words of an Irish song that begins, "Pat, O Pat, is there whiskey in yer hat?"
3. The guy who welcomes you to your first AA meeting after you sing #2 at #1.

pay gig: A musical engagement for which off-duty MUs are miraculously on time, smiling and dressed correctly.

per diem: (L. "by dieting" or "meals are optional.") A travel allowance that is calculated by estimating daily expenses required for food and lodging and dividing by two.

perfect interval: The rarely-occurring period of joy that occurs when payday arrives before the bar tab is due.

perfect pitch: The arc described by a Bb clarinet tossed from the poop deck so that it clears the rudder.

plank owner: A saxophone player who has been issued a seven-year-old box of Rico Fives.

practical factors: Sucking up to the Chief, bribing the LPO and other skills required for promotion to the next pay grade.

ship arrival: An emotional ceremony during which sailors run down the gangplank into the arms of their waiting wives and girlfriends while the band plays "Back in the Saddle Again."

ship departure: An emotional ceremony that is traditionally followed by a surge in the number of unattached women in the Enlisted Club.

shitty ditty: An obscure song that is childishly arranged by an MU1, illegibly copied by an MU3, and highly favored by the admiral's wife.

sick call: The unfortunate music that ensues when a bugler begins on the wrong harmonic.

sound man: An MU who is being discharged in a few weeks, sits in the back of the auditorium and couldn't care less whether the vocals are audible.

staff combo: Four MUs who spend occasional evenings at the "O club" drinking doubles from the open bar, ogling the junior officers' wives, picking up juicy tidbits from the admiral's chief of staff and show up for work the next day complaining about all this extra duty.

stinger: A loud repetition of the last note of a march, generally performed only by the second trombone player.

survey: The procedure that transforms bass drums and tubas into coffee tables and flower planters in the Supply Petty Officer's living room.

4 Ruffles & Flourishes and the Flag Officers March: The default answer to all questions on MU promotion exams.

Nomenclature for Bands Afloat

battle station: A rectangular fabric casing filled with a resilient material such as cotton or foam, often employed with a similar, but smaller, "pillow" for the support of the head.

crossing the line: Asking the flag lieutenant's wife if she'd like to grease your slide after the gig.

flight quarters: An exercise, usually held at night, during which sirens are sounded and heavy chains are dragged across the deck directly above the band's berthing compartment.

general quarters: Nap time.

hatch: An opening in a passageway that is three inches narrower than a Fender Rhodes electric piano.

liberty call: An announcement signaling the period during which the ship goes to In-Port Routine, the crew goes on R&R and the band goes to work.

mess deck: The 16 square feet surrounding a trombonist with a broken spit valve.

port: The contents of the bottle in the trumpet player's spare case.

quarterdeck: The number of playing cards sequestered up the sleeve of the smiling bosun's mate who has just sauntered into the band's berthing compartment.

rack: see Battle Station.

unreps: Underway replenishment, a harrowing naval evolution involving two closely-spaced ships on parallel courses that requires precise radio contact, instant communication between helmsman and watchstanders, and a band outside the bridge playing Fillmore marches.

1MC: The public address system through which the executive officer remarks on the contribution the band is making to Unreps.

School of Music Terminology

ADM Joel T. Boone Branch Health Clinic: A recreational lounge for basic course students, enjoyed primarily during colors band week.

chord factory: The School of Music.

ear training: The development of advanced listening skills that allow students to stop riffing on diminished scales and open up the Fillmore march book when the Practice Supervisor's footsteps become audible.

flat five: An all-Army sax section.

head:

1. The beginning of a piece of music.
2. A place where excrement is deposited.
3. In the case of Advanced Course arranging projects, both of the above.

hidden fifths: Training aids that circulate in the back of the Theory classroom.

Pool of Mucus: The School of Music.

practice room: a space provided for students to store their horn cases while they are outside smoking.

staff member: An MU whose behavior in a fleet band has earned him an extended period of punishment.

student bands: Training ensembles for basic course students of various abilities:

• "A" band, consisting of students who perform at the highest level. 
• "B" band, consisting of students who are competing for selection to "A" band.
• "C" band, consisting of Marines.

unit: An hour of individual practice (derived from School of Music record-keeping terminology). "Trombones, you need to put in some units on that slow whole-note section."

MU Phrase Book

"Did you cash your last paycheck?" Translation: "Your constant griping about the Navy grows tiresome."

"Get a haircut." Translation: "I disagree with you, but can't think of an adequate response."

• Question: "Can't the combo have some time off, chief? We're working twice as hard as the rest of the band."
• Answer: "Get a haircut."

"Parade the Beef." Translation: "Form up on the grinder in athletic gear."

"Who booked this gig? Translation: "The accommodations for the band are not up to general standards."

• MUs at Navy Band Newport had an unusual distinction in the mid-80s, when MU1 Billy Ream was the Operations PO in charge of scheduling performances. After a concert in a particularly inhospitable venue, musicians could stomp off the bandstand and truthfully moan, "Another Ream job."

Once again: our fleet bands are the real deal.

I'm a fleet band kind of guy, and that's putting it nicely. Sure, I appreciate the expertise of our "special" bands in Washington and Annapolis, but the fleet bands have always done the heavy lifting.

Last year my wife and I went to see the US Navy Band's Sea Chanters here in western Illinois. They were tremendous, there's no denying it. Midway through the show, they took a few minutes to thank the audience for supporting them on their annual three-week tour.

"Wow," my wife whispered. "A three-week tour! Did you ever do something like that when you were in the Navy?"

"Yeah," I said. "Sometimes, one a month."

So I get bummed when I see well-produced Navy videos that feature fleet bands, but contain soundtrack music by the US Navy Band. Fleet bands are not chopped liver, I tell myself; why do we have to import audio tracks from the high and mighty?

That's what was going through my mind as I watched this video celebrating the 70th anniversary of the US Navy 7th Fleet, a 4 1/2-minute photo montage held together by concert band music. "Damn good video," I'm telling myself, "made even better by the damn US Navy Concert Band. Sure, they're good; great, in fact. But why couldn't a fleet band do the job? In fact, they shoulda had the 7th Fleet Band do the job instead of--"

Then came the closing credits. The music was, in fact, provided by the 7th Fleet Band.

Nicely done, shipmates. Those fancy-pants boys and girls in DC ain't got nothing on you.

I don't say this because I was a fleet bandsman (once leader of the 7th Fleet Ceremonial Band, in fact), or because the Navy Band long ago refused my entreaties to join them in their rigorous regimen of annual three-week tours. No, I say it because it's true:

Our fleet bands are the real deal.