When I was seven, my mother did the worst thing I could conceive of: she took my Calvin and Hobbes books away from me. Why, why would she do such a horrible thing, I asked her at the time, probably kicking and screaming and waving my tiny fists.
It was a very simple answer: I was acting too much like Calvin.
Little did my mother know, taking away my comic books for a little while would do nothing to cure my obsession for Calvin and Hobbes. Oh sure, I stopped dressing up as Stupendous Man and giving the baby-sitter a hard time; I simply got more subtle. I went ahead and took the lessons from Bill Watterson’s masterpieces and made them a part of my life. Not only that, I took it a step further and made them a part of my military leadership style.
Which maybe explains a…
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