License To Brag

 Good evening, my two followers.  The following, while not nonsense, isn't exactly serious "stuff," either.  While there are plenty of topics upon which I could pontificate, my brain hurts and I don't want to get into anything too heavy.  Especially, since the 2,021th (or 2,025th) birthday of the Little Baby Jesus is a little over a week away.  Never fear, I'll get into meatier issues once the year turns.

                Having moved to Virginia from the Peoples' Republic of Pennsylvania in August, 2020 (golly, where has the time gone?), I've noticed quite a few differences.

                The weather (it was in the 70s today), the cuisine (Pizza Hut is considered a delicacy), and local major league sports (there are none) all tell me I ain't in Kans...err, the Keystone State anymore.

                But, and like Hillary Clinton, no small but (yes, the spelling's different...sue me...you know what I meant), our Wawas sell beer.

"Good one.  Huh, Rug?"

                I've noticed another thing which also sets us apart.  No, it's not that the Old Dominion will get a governor next month who didn't sport blackface in his yearbook (although there is that).  It's that there are a ton of personalized license plates tooling down the highways.

This guy is probably speeding down the highway.
FULL DISCLOSURE:  I don't think Virginia issues this one anymore.

                Motorists can select any number of possible designs to adorn their rear and front bumpers (the existence of a front license plate being another change from up north).  If you can think of a cause, Virginia has a plate for you.  Anything from a patriotic theme to the state bird to Ducks Unlimited, you can get it.  Well, you probably couldn't get one for the National Man Boy Love Association (although, in this day and age, who TF knows?), but if you're a bird watcher, y'all can get a special plate!

I think we can forget about the "National Man Fish Love Association," though.

                Plus, in addition to that, motorists can insert any cutesy message they wish (as long as it's not pornographic).  For instance, I saw a license plate with "IH8NOVA" on it, which I can only assume means the owner has no great love for Fairfax and Loudon Counties.

                Which makes sense.  Northern Virginia sucks.

                Big problem with this approach, however, is that I sometimes will creep up on them while trying to figure out what it is they're trying to say.  This, of course, is a major detriment to highway safety.  Especially when I'm drinking that beer I bought at Wawa.

                NOTE:  I do not drink and drive.  I pull into a parking lot.

                Now some of you may be thinking that Virginians are a whimsical lot prone to creative self-expression and trumpeting of a particular cause.  Well, okay they are a tad whimsical (for instance, bless their hearts, they think grits is Diet Cream of Wheat).  But, I believe that a lot of the motivation behind this is that, at only $10.00, it's pretty cheap to have one of these things.  Not for me, mind you, I prefer a generic state plate.  Both because I don't want to spend money I don't have and because why chance road rage by some Freemason who objects to my Knights of Columbus license plate?

                However, if I was to get a personalized plate, it would be something along the lines of one I saw yesterday.  This was a special one honoring the driver/owner as a Desert Storm/Desert Shield Veteran.

Hard to believe this was thirty years ago.
I had brown hair back then and everything worked.
What is none of your business.

                As I crept up on him at the red plate (okay, maybe "creep" is an unfortunate term), I thought that that was a nice way to recognize this man or woman's service.  Then, I wondered if that is something I would like to have (yes, I am also a Desert Storm/Desert Shield veteran).  The more I thought about, though, the more I realized that if I was to commemorate any bit of my service, it would not have a picture of the Southwest Asia Service Medal on it.

                No, instead I'd have a picture of the National Defense Service Medal for all the world to see.

I had been in the Navy fourteen years before I was eligible to wear this.
The 1970s and 1980s were good times.
Except for our livers.

                Especially to my service friends, the National Defense Medal is considered a bit of a "geedunk" medal.  It's thought of as the military's "participation trophy."  Meaning, if you're wearing the uniform during a specified timeframe (e.g., Korean Conflict, Vietnam War, Gulf War, Global War On Terrorism), you get to throw it on your uniform, even if you're just in Boot Camp.

                NOTE:  Space precludes from explaining the origin of the term "geedunk."  You really should thank me.

                I get it, I really do.  We all get one.  However, to me, "national defense" is what our service was all about.  Whether in basic training, onboard a ship, recruiting Midwest farm boys, flying surveillance missions over the Red Sea, or guarding a South Dakota missile silo, everyone pitched in, everyone was essential to safeguarding our nation.

                Hell, even the Marines kept the crayon industry in business.

                With that in mind, I am most proud of my National Defense Service Medal.  Don't get me wrong.  I cherish the others, even that Coast Guard one.  But, I signed up to defend my country.  Without national defense, all of them would be moot.  National Defense gives us a life which is free.

                And the ability to have a "Bowler" license plate on our car.

Admit it.  You thought I was kidding.

Next time:  Christmas silly.