So some moron called my house at 5:30 AM Thanksgiving Day. I didn't pick up, naturally, but I thought some very naughty half-coherent curses in his direction. Turns out that moron was from the government, looking for my dad. I may have mentioned that my dad works at the Pentagon, and every time something goes pear-shaped anywhere in the world, Dad gets to run in and do his Kindergarten Teacher thing and tell everyone to calm down and have some graham crackers and a nap.
This week's crisis, if you remember, is this little snit between the Koreas. 5:30 AM Dude was trying to reach Dad in regards to holy shit, Kim Jong Il is going to Kill Us All This Time. Fortunately, he or she remembered to call Dad's cell after failing to reach him at home. Unfortunately, Dad was in the next time zone over at the time, and so he was treated to a 4:30 AM call. Dad directed the caller to call his deputy, and presumably refrained from profanity. He's a professional.
For the record, according to Dad, South shot first, but it was an accident. I now require a plane ticket to Seoul and a Korean translator who can explain to the guy who launched the accidental missile exactly why there is an enraged American girl beating him with a tire iron.