"Homeward Bound"

My flight touched down at 7:30 p.m. Thursday night. Back to the South. Goodbye l'il sister, goodbye organic foods, goodbye 3 story apartment buildings, goodbye Alchemy, and goodbye Norma Jean. Farewell and adieu to Alcatraz, Mt. Shasta, the Black Bear Diner, and Fisherman's Wharf. It's back to the grind.

Because I'm suffering from jet lag and ketchuping up on things, tonight's foray is an encore presentation from 04.

"Code Red"

Like the < rod > serlingesque commentaries penned by hoots, did anyone see the updated "A Few Good Men" the other night on the Sci-fi channel. It was really good, as usual, but different from the original. Seems they were showing the director's cut. The ending, of course, is the hi lite of the flick. The red herrings are exposed while building to a thrilling climax. For those of you who didn't see it....We pick it up where Kaffee, lead counsel for the defense is questioning Ronnie about a possible Code Red that Ronnie may have ordered.

KAFFEE

When Azam spoke to the team and
ordered them not to fire bbq, any
chance they ignored him?

Ronnie
Have you ever spent time in a cafeteria,
son?

KAFFEE
No sir.

RONNIE
Ever served as a maintenance mechanic?

KAFFEE
No sir.

RONNIE
Ever put your wife, er, knife in another man's hands,
ask him to put his wife, er, knife in yours?

KAFFEE
No sir.

RONNIE
We follow orders, son. We follow orders
or people fry/don't fry. Pun unintended It's that simple. Are we
clear?

KAFFEE
Yes sir.

RONNIE
Are we clear?

KAFFEE
Crystal.


If Malik told his men that BBQ
wasn't to be touched, then why did he have
to be terminated?

Azam ordered the code red, didn't he?
Because that's what you told Azam to
do.
And when it went bad, you cut this guy
loose.

KAFFEE
I'll ask for the fourth time. You ordered--

RONNIE
You want answers?

KAFFEE
I think I'm entitled to them.

RONNIE
You want answers?!

KAFFEE
I want the truth.

RONNIE
You can't handle the truth! (continuing)
Son, we live in a world that has malls.
And those malls have to be served by men
who sell buns. Among other things. Who's gonna do it? You? You,
Lt. Whineberg? I have a greater
responsibility than you can possibly
fathom. You weep for BBQ and you
curse the ceo's in the ivory towers. You have that luxury.
You have the luxury of not knowing what I
know: That BBQ's termination, while tragic,
probably saved jobs-we didn't have to fire more people at the time. And my existence,
while grotesque and incomprehensible to
you, saves jobs. For the likes of AAAA Repair, the Federal Bureaucracy, the workers at the unemployment offices, etc.

I have neither the time nor the
inclination to explain myself to a man who
rises and sleeps under the blanket of the
very freedom I provide, then questions the
manner in which I provide it. I'd prefer
you just said thank you and went on your
way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a
serving spoon and stand a post. Either way, I
don't give a damn what you think you're
entitled to.

KAFFEE
(quietly)
Did you order the code red?

RONNIE
(pause)
You're goddamn right I did.

About that time I dozed off, but do remember hearing a voice that eerily sounded like Rod's, who pronounced: submitted for your approval and perusal.

Farewell and adieu, v.c.