We haven't retired or died, and other things to be excited about in 2011!

Just wanted to take a moment to let everyone know that we're not dead, we were just on vacation. And/or lazy. (And/or dead. Not totally clear on the facts here, as it's been a while since I've heard from MK.) But now we're back, and lemme tell you: it is time to blog the hell out of 2011. Starting January 4th. Like, January 4th at 1000, not 0045. Or maybe January 5th. But seriously, soon!

Really, though, thanks for having the patience and commitment and interest level to keep coming back here every day or week or month or however often you check in. We do very much appreciate everyone who stops by, and we especially appreciate those of you who contribute to the conversation. I'm looking forward to a great year for the blog, a year of renewed commitment and energy and blah blah blah, and I really hope we can reward your persistent presence. If anyone's even reading this, that is.

But in all honesty, there are about two dozen topics floating around in my little pea brain right now, and some of them have even been committed to text streams of various lengths. I've drifted away from frequent low-content updates over the last several weeks and end up getting trapped beneath the idea of some massive essay, so you'll have to excuse the virtual silence. I've still got to spit out my criticism of Michael Cohen's recent COINtra piece in The Nation, and I've been promising Matt Gallagher a smackdown of his pro-draft goofiness for about six months now. (Seriously, I've got like 3,000 words on that one.) So I hope you'll stick around with us as we try to move this thing in a more content-intensive direction. One of these days.

In the meantime, I want to draw your attention to an outstanding essay/speech that Ex linked to earlier today: "Solitude and Leadership," by literary critic and former Yale professor William Deresiewicz, as delivered in October 2009 to the U.S. Military Academy's plebes of the class of '13. It's a really excellent elaboration of why independence, genuine thoughtfulness, moral courage, and true conviction are such important traits for leaders of men (and particularly modern military officers). I've seldom read something so meaningful and thought-provoking in the last few years, and that's no exaggeration. I hope you'll enjoy it.

So, there. That's just a taste. Keep coming back in 2011, and I promise you won't be disappointed. Thanks for reading, and happy new year, wesolych swiat, feliz ano nuevo, bonne annee, blwyddyn newydd dda, and so on.

Ink Spots is a year old today!

Picture it: June 2009, five half-in-the-bag security nerds stumbling up 18th Street in Adams Morgan (seriously, I never go to Adams Morgan) late on a Wednesday night.

"So seriously, are we gonna do this blog thing?"

"Sure, why not. I mean, we definitely have plenty to say. Especially MK: look how much he writes in the comments section on Abu Muqawama! He'll surely be a prolific blogger!"

"Yeah, you're right. Let's do it!"

(Some random, drunk French guy walking past:) "SOLIIIIIIIDE!"

And so it was.

Here we are a year into this thing, believe it or not, and 400 posts deep. We were fortunate to get a lot of good pub from folks in our field, bloggers and academics and policy folks alike, back in our infancy last summer, and we've been fortunate enough to sustain a pretty good following over the subsequent months. I wish I had some flashy new initiative to roll out, some commitment to new platforms or concepts or even just to write more often to keep you interested, but alas... Same old Ink Spots.

Thanks though, to everyone who has read and commented over the last year, especially our stalwarts like SNLII, Madhu, Starbuck, Schmedlap, and Mike Few -- you've elevated the debate, and the vain hope that we're actually causing people to think is what keeps all of us writing. (Well, it's what keeps me writing, anyway. That, and solipsism.)

So here's hoping for another good year. Thanks again. And on that note, I'm going on vacation.

(No, seriously, I am going on vacation, but it's not a Blog Birthday celebration. At least, you're not sure it is.)

So you guys keep reading and thinking about security policy and whatnot. I'm packing a bag full of golf shirts, a box of cigars, and a long Delillo novel, and I'm not thinking about Small Wars, big wars, or any wars until I get back from Napa on Tuesday. Happy Fourth of July!

P.S. While we're talking about Small Wars, would you just go and donate some damned money to SWJ already? I want to have something to read when I get back!

Advice on writing well

With a h/t to Texas in Africa and an apology for not posting because I'm trying to finish a paper, go read this. It's an essay by Henry Farrell on writing for political science.

Chris Blattman also has a good post about this.

Proto-COINdinistas

I came across this cartoon in an old New Yorker article.*

Because I'm a nerd and find it completely impossible to read, watch, or talk about anything without drawing parallels to counterinsurgency, I chuckled a bit.

*The article, if you're interested, is a June 2004 piece criticizing the grammatical errors made in a book ostensibly written as a popular guide to common grammatical errors. If you're a language nit like me, you'll enjoy it.

And while we're on the subject of grammar Nazi-ism, I can't help but link to "Tense Present: Democracy, English, and the Wars Over Usage," which sounds much more boring than it is and has nothing to do with counterinsurgency, but which you should read because it's by my favorite writer of all time and will make you laugh.

Public service announcement

Having seen the expression used recently both in reference to McNamara's culpability for Vietnam and the cost of securing Blue Jays' ace Roy Halladay in a trade, I promise to never, ever, under any circumstances, utter or scribble or type the words "blood and treasure."

Never.

And to put my colleagues on notice, I promise to edit away any use of this phrase on the blog. Any.

Seriously, people, can't we stop recycling the same stale language all the time? Orwell knew what was up:

This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing. As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated henhouse.