Santa Barbara Killer

I watched the last video this idiot made....(I refuse to even use his name)....and have put a lot of thought into it. I wanted to write something after hearing about this guy, who is now gratefully dead, but I wanted to wait and ruminate on it for a while.

First off, people are crap. All people. That includes me. There is something crappy about all of us. There is not one of us that has an ounce of goodness in them.

The problem with this ignoramus, and those of his ilk, is they never look inward. Oh BOO HOO, no girl would sleep with you. Turns out they were right not to. Lord knows we didn't need you breeding and having your mate spitting out a demon worse than those that were in you.

Yes, women are crap and the men they choose are crap and it wasn't fair that you were overlooked. Shut the hell up. There are nearly seven billion of us on this planet, and six billion nine hundred and ninety nine million of us are being overlooked every single day by the majority of the rest. Get over it if you feel like this moron did.

What? You wanted to be famous? You wanted to have a large circle of 'friends' around you that fawned and swooned over your every word? Who did you want to be like? Brad Pitt? Johnny Football? Obama? John Grisham? What a sniveling little worm you are to think you would EVER belong in any class like that. Didn't you ever listen to Nickelback? "You'll be on TV, when it starts to snow in hell." They're right. The vast, vast majority of us aren't even as big as an amoeba when compared to the universe, and you're whining because no girl has spread her legs for you? You were never going to be an 'alpha male' as you claimed killing people would make you. All you ended up being was a headline.

Yet, with all his griping and whining and belly aching, he was closer to the brass ring than most of us will EVER get. His dad was assistant director to one of the most popular movies ever made. He drove a brand new BMW for crying out loud. Hell, all my life I drove Fords and Chevy's and Dodge's that were second hand and nearly dead when I bought 'em. It wasn't until 2007 that I bought a 2001 Jaguar and it wasn't until 2011 that I bought a 2008 Mercedes. He lived in affluence and never had to work a day in his life. Let me trade places with you any day you idiot. I don't know why he didn't go to his dad and say, "Hey my man! How about a thousand so I can get me a high dollar hooker that will do anything I want?" Virginity gone...problem solved.

If there's one thing I've learned in life it's to take responsibility for myself. I make decisions every day, right or wrong...and then I live with them. I...live...with...them. And, I don't blame anybody else on this earth. I had chances and I made choices and that's why I am where I am today...for the most part and wherever that is. But there isn't any individual person out there who made my life what it is. I own it. All of it. To decide that those who have wronged you....whether perceived or real...is unfair and thus they must die, is to be nothing less than evil.

The other night I put my hands around my wife's neck and began to rub it on the sides, the back and the front. She says, "You going to strangle me?" I stopped for a second and said, "I'm an asshole. I'm not evil."

I may berate you. I may yell at you. I may dislike you. I may tell you to take a hike out of my life. But I will never blame another person for the problems in my life. And, neither should any of you. Live with what you have and strive to have more. And I'm not just talking about material things. Work on what you have inside, and strive to make it better. Otherwise, you might become nothing more than a headline....like this idiot. That is all.

Not a Bad Monday

Monday's get a bad rap...and deservedly so. It isn't Monday's fault, it's just the way things were set up. For us, it's the first day of the work week after having a much too short weekend to frolic and play and visit et al. We wonder, as we roll out of bed and lie prostrate on the floor for maybe two more minutes of blissful sleep, why the weekends can't be five days and the work week two? Nevertheless, that isn't the world we live in. So, why bother contemplating it?

I get up this morning at four, as I always do. It isn't that I have to, it's just I can't lay in bed anymore like I did when I was a kid. The old hip bones and knee bones and back bones and shoulder bones....well, you get the picture. They all hurt after about three hours. Naturally, the first thing I do is pretty much the first thing that all octogenarians do when they get up. I walk to the entrance of the bathroom and switch on the light. It turned out to be a good move.

Sasha is our elder cat statesman. He's sixteen and a half years old. Depending on what web site you look at, he's somewhere between eighty-four and eighty-six equivalent years old in human terms. He doesn't hear too good these days, and has gone to sod. He sleeps constantly in this one chair...at the dining table. We feel he's earned the privilege and, after all, he was Lulu's cat. He can do no wrong. Sasha doesn't get in a hurry about anything. He's slow to walk and has a hitch in his giddy-up where his hips are concerned. He's stopped bedding us down at night because it's too hard to jump up on the bed. We put a step-up at the end of it for him, but eventually even that was too much to ask.

The reason it was a good move to turn on the light is because our bathroom is where the litter box is. That's another thing about ancient cats that have been spoiled to their own mental oblivion. They lose their desire to put out too much energy. Sasha doesn't go 'IN' the litter box anymore. He feels as if he's done his catly duty if he just gets close.

Facing the bathroom, the lavatory is to my right. The litter box is to my left. The trail to the toilet is in between and it isn't that wide. With eyelids only a quarter of the way open and my mind still fuzzy and trying to deal with reality and the fact that only a few minutes earlier I was making love to Raquel Welch from One Million B.C., I notice that in order for me to reach the toilet, I have to traverse a cat turd mine field.

Sasha has deposited at least eight cat turds in my path, and it seemed to my blurred vision that they were placed in what soldiers say in military terms a 'spread pattern', which is used to great effect when targeting enemy forces. You see, when dogs crap...they just hunch over and lay a pile. Rarely do they walk around in serpentine fashion with a turd 'plop-plop' machine at their backside, leaving little blobs of day-wrecking death behind them. But, with Sasha? Oh yeah, he doesn't give a damn anymore. In his little pea brain, he's thinking we should be glad he even makes the effort at his age.

My first thought was to try to make it without having to face the disgusting task of picking it all up. I would then use the bathroom, make my escape, turn off the light, and leave my wife to clean it up. I'm not sure who it was...maybe God...but someone slapped me against the back of my head and I heard a voice. It said, "What has she done to you? Pick that up before I shove it up your bee-hind." I was suddenly flushed with guilt for even having the thought. It didn't take long and I was able to keep from being infected by touching any of it. After that, I went about my morning routine without another hitch.

The reason I said it wasn't a bad Monday is because that was the only thing 'bad' that happened to me today. I will testify in court that no one on the road pissed me off, going to and from work. At the job, not one person irritated me, tried to get over on me, blamed me for anything, got on to me about being behind on something or not being somewhere they thought I should have been....AND NOT SAYING ALL OF THAT HAPPENS....and we had no emergencies with the manufacturing processes of our equipment. There were no nasty e-mails, no tense meetings, no in-fighting no politics....I mean to tell you that nothing else went wrong today. Nothing. I know, I know...Monday isn't over yet.

But if midnight rings...and all that went wrong today was I had to help an old cat who used to belong to my deceased daughter...and who is an animal I love as much as a human being? You know what? It wasn't a bad Monday. Not by a long shot.

Nevada Is Why We Have A Second Amendment

Cliven Bundy's family has been ranching on that land since the 1800's. Two years ago most of that land was designated protected territory for some desert tortoise. The Nazi-Feds claim he owes the government over a million dollars.

Okay. So garnish his profits. File suit. Audit him every year. Do something other than what was done, which was to send their Nazi Jack-Booted Gestapo thugs with their tasers, guns and war dogs and intimidate American citizens who are supposed to have certain inalienable rights in this country. Not only did they intimidate them, they assaulted them. Their flimsy excuse for all the force and guns was that the Bundy's had used threatening language. Let me guess...was it AFTER you said you were going to come in and confiscate a good portion of his livelihood? Yeah. I thought so. Don't blame him for using threatening language. If it were YOUR livelihood being threatened, you might do the same.

Once the news got out that another Waco or Ruby Ridge was in the offing, armed militias from several different States began to mobilize with Nevada as their destination.

This was the LAST thing the Democrats needed right now. The potential for actual bloodshed and loss of life on both sides was growing at a rapid rate. If it were to have happened, then the Democrats could have most certainly kissed the Senate goodbye. THAT's why their Nazi Jack-Booted thugs were told to disperse and end the mission.

Yet, it was the danger of armed citizens converging on the area that made them back down. Not armed vigilantes...not armed terrorists...not armed criminals...but armed citizens who rallied when they saw an American's civil rights, liberties and freedoms being trampled on by the Feds is when these fascists backed down. And that's why the founding fathers gave us the right to keep and bear arms. I find it amusing when people tell me that the weapons we have would be no match for the military and police. Maybe not, but we have them by sheer numbers if we want them. The Nazis had the best weaponry and engineering. But the numbers of fifty-some odd countries coming against them was too much. Same would happen here. The Feds almost started a small civil war that would have stained them for years. Without the 2nd amendment and people having arms, they would have NEVER backed down.

Make no mistake, there will never be another Waco incident in Texas. Koresh was already considered a wacko by the people there, and did nothing to intervene. It wasn't until the total horror of everything that happened was revealed that the whole State grew angry at the DEMOCRATIC administration that so ruthlessly trampled on those people's civil rights. The next time Uncle Sam comes to Texas with his Nazi thugs to trample the rights of Texans, they better pack their lunch.

I wonder why it is here lately that when the Democrats are in control of the federal government, American citizens have their rights and liberties trampled and destroyed at their whim. And for what? A tortoise? If this man's family has been ranching on this land since the 1800's and this tortoise is still living there???? The cow's ain't hurtin' him.

Finally, these Gestapo Agents also tried to set up a 'Free Speech Zone' for the protesters. Guess what, MORONS? America...THE WHOLE FREAKIN' COUNTRY...is a free speech zone. Why don't you try reading the Constitution for a change instead of blindly following orders like some other schmucks did over seventy years ago. If it's against the Constitution...you don't do it. Even if it means your job. Even, if it means your life. That's what being an American is all about. It's about Americans and their personal, individual freedoms. Not tortoises.

2014 Houston Texans

As of now, it doesn't seem to me anything's changed. Is it possible we have Stupiak-Lite? Or, maybe it wasn't Stupiak's interminable insistence to do things his way only and never ever deviate or else suffer the splinters on the bench. Maybe the real villain here is Rick Smith.

Many times in my working life I have seen work-mates who somehow got their claws so deeply imbedded in the boss they could do...or not do...anything they wanted and nary a word was ever said about it when things went disastrously wrong. Yet, let any of the rest of us lose a five cent wing nut and it was a borderline firing offense. This is where I think Rick Smith is with Bob McNair.

How could Rick Smith survive the house cleaning that took place when he was so intimately involved with the workings and personnel on that team? He and Stupiak were joined at the hip from Denver and shared all the decisions made where it came to personnel. Rick Smith is the one who has the organization in a quandary about what to do with a broken quarterback they owe millions to. When a team goes into a season as potential Super Bowl contenders, and then stink it up with a fourteen game losing streak, it's time for a full cleaning of the house. But, not in McNair's eyes. The blood letting was tremendous, but when the guillotine got too dull from chopping heads, Smith's was still on his shoulders. Makes one wonder.

And now, we have free agency come upon us in prep for the 2014 season. In a different kind of way, we have another cleaning, but this is a bloodless type. The Texans opened the door and let the rest of the NFL pick and choose among their free agents. On the surface, this is understandable as it opens up a lot of cap space to pursue your own players to fill the needs you have at various positions. One would logically assume that a 2-14 team would have personnel needs. One would think, anyway. However, the Texans opened the exit door, but never opened the entrance door. They did wake up long enough to sign Garrett Graham...a very good utility tight end. But, he was already a Texan. Our secondary is very suspect, and with the loss of Bryce McCain, it becomes even more suspect. The Texans had a chance at Aqib Talib and Darrelle Revis, but didn't even sniff in their direction. They had a chance at Demarcus Ware and Jared Allen, to compliment J.J. Watt, but poo-pooed the option and turned away.

The fact they didn't even wave a dollar bill in Ware or Allen's direction cements the decision in my mind they are going to pick Jadeveon Clowney. McNair likes him, since I'm sure Rick Smith has infused Uncle Bob's mind with all the dazzling prospects the young man can bring to the defense. It is very possible that Matt Schaub will return, but not probable. If he should come out on the field as the starting quarterback, then we can all assume that Bill O'Brien is insane and get ready for another streak of lost seasons.

No, you can't build a powerhouse through free agency. I think the Texans are right to build up primarily in the draft. But every team needs experience in playing and in winning and that only comes from veteran players that have been there and done it. In my opinion, the 2014 season will not begin like the 2013 season did. There should be no expectation of this team being able to compete if the present regime doesn't have a good draft and a good answer for the quarterback position. If things continue to go this way, look for a 4-12 or a 5-11 season. I'll be watching, and I know that scares them. It really really does.

To Those Who Have Pastors

He knows more of the personal problems of more people than does any gossip columnist, yet he tells no one but God.

He must generate group enthusiasm as does a cheerleader at a disappointingly slow ball game.

He feels the pressure to produce a winning team as does the ball coach.

He is given the responsibility of leading but always from a servant position.

He must give three or more speeches each week to the same general group. He must not be repetitious or boring. He must have fresh, up-to-date materials and data. He must do it without a speech writer or research team.

He must be approachable at all times regardless of his own personal desire to be left alone.

He must teach from a book studied and read by his students, yet he must be fresh and informative.

He must continually sell himself, his company, his produce and, most importantly...his Boss; with the realization ever before him that to fail produces death. He must never get behind in paying his bills; he must dress well; he must drive a clean car; he must have tools to do his job; he must be a leader in his gifts to charitable causes; he must entertain and he must do it all on a salary which is, most of the time, inadequate.

He must be willing to listen to people by the hour; to not know how to enjoy an uninterrupted meal with his family; yet handle his own frustration over lack of time for his wife and children.

His work is so much a part of him that he cannot separate the two.

He is a walking, talking, loving man of God, man of men, man of a family; one who is called "Pastor".

He is trained to preach, to pastor, to administrate, but somewhere someone failed to give him the magic word which changes him into Captain Marvel. He is a man; a good man, but a man. Without the grace of God his load would be too great and he would break.

Some do anyway.

(Ernie Perkins, Former Director of Missions, Capital City Association, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma)

If You Believe Man Causes Global Warming?

Then I have some beachfront property in Arizona I'd like to interest you in. Right now we have the dreaded Polar Vortex screeching down from the North Pole as if Santa just had a bad sneeze. And guess what? Some scientists are blaming it on global warming. Somehow, there's a 'warm' mass over the arctic that somehow generates this fierce coldness that somehow whirls around like a hurricane...but it's not a hurricane...it's a vortex....stay with me here....there's a difference...and then it somehow splits in two, which a hurricane doesn't do but obviously a vortex does, even though the definition of  vortex in the dictionary doesn't mention this symbiotic osmosis cosmic amoeba-like splitting being a part of vortexian activity. Anyway, if it weren't for the 'warm' mass where there is nothing but ice, snow, polar bears and seals that somehow gets created in the cold, then we wouldn't be having all this freakishly cataclysmic bad news for all witches, well-diggers and brass monkeys that includes temperatures that only a penguin would like. And SOMEHOW, this 'freezing to the point of being ridiculous weather' is absolute verifiable proof, (in the minds of some of our greatest scientific minds) that we are in the midst of a crisis-like warming of the planet that will soon kill us all unless we start eating grass and stop driving fossil fuel driven cars and stop burning wood and stop our cows from farting and carry solar panels on our back all day so we can have enough energy to use our iPhones or iPads or whatever young people are hooked on these days. If it weren't so likely to irrevocably change the way we all live....which is in freedom from government oppression....then it might be laughable.  Here's why.

If you've never heard of the Medieval Warm Period, then shame on you. You weren't paying attention in school. This event occurred between 950 and 1250 AD. Now, back in those days we didn't have Channel 13's Meteorologist with his bright shiny teeth and his slicked back hair waving his hand over a computer generated map supplied to him by satellites. Plus, written records in those days are scarce to come by in these days, especially when it's just talking about the weather. Botanical studies, along with archeological finds that revealed abrupt and sustained diet changes among humans and animals, helped to determine conclusively that there was a warming period on Earth that lasted approximately three centuries. We also know that carbon fuel emissions from Hummer's and SUV's didn't cause it. Don't we? Let's hope so. If you go to 'Medieval Warm Period' on Wikipedia, you'll get a big laugh at the second paragraph. In that section, the writer speaks of how much the temperature went off the reservation of normality, and states conclusively that the highest temperatures during the Medieval Warm Period were not as warm as what we are experiencing now. Yet, the writer starts the paragraph off by saying, and I quote..."Despite substantial uncertainties....". WHAT? If there are substantial uncertainties in your data then you CANNOT unequivocally say that the temperatures of today are much warmer than back then. Scientists. You gotta love 'em. Of course, we don't know if a scientist wrote that or not. We have, however, proven he's a moron.

Right after the Medieval Warm Period, was the Little Ice Age. Please tell me you know about that. Yes, not long after the warm period there was a cold period that is referred to as the Little Ice Age. Temperatures were much cooler for several centuries, right up to around 1850. What's funny about this is where our brilliant scientists are as concerns what may have caused it. Pay attention. You're about to get an education.

The Little Ice Age, according to our 'experts', was potentially caused by...(drum roll)....

They don't know. It could have been caused by orbital cycles or decreased solar activity or increased volcanic activity or altered current flows or the inherent variability of global climate or reforestation following decreases in the human population or  WHO THE HELL FREAKIN' KNOWS???!!!

Don't you see the same rule applies here? At this time? On this date? They...don't...know. They will never know. What we DO know is that WE ain't causin' it. Notice one of the causes above? It says, 'the inherent variability of global climate...'. Well I'll be. The inherent variability of global climate. Bingo. They hit the nail on the head and weren't even tryin'. I salute them.

 

 

 

 

The Art of War

“If ignorant both of your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War    

It appears the United States has lost its understanding of what war is all about. In 2004, the United States sent in Marines, along with Iraqi government forces and British forces, to flush out and destroy insurgents in the city of Fallujah. The US casualties were approximately 95 killed and 560 wounded. Now, the news media is reporting that Fallujah has fallen to insurgents once again. John Kerry has said the US will do nothing and that the fight is up to the Iraqi government.

During World War II, the United States knew how to fight a war. After that, we lost our way with Korea and Vietnam, allowing our warfare to be mitigated by political concerns more than with destroying our enemies. In the second world war, Germany was reduced to rubble. After the second nuclear attack on Japan, the Japanese realized they were headed for the same fate as their ally and capitulated without conditions. To emerge victorious, one must completely reduce the enemy's will to fight.

One of the best examples of this has to do with Vlad the Impaler of Dracula fame. In 1462, he was faced with certain defeat when Mehmed II, leader of the Ottoman Turks, approached the Danube with 80,000 men. Vlad could only muster 30,000, but he held 20,000 Turks prisoner from earlier conflicts. When Mehmed II reached the Danube, he and his men saw 20,000 impaled, Turkish corpses on the opposite bank and Mehmed's army refused, out of abject fear, to venture into Wallachia. They returned to Constantinople and Vlad won the battle without drawing a sword.

There is one unalterable truism when it comes to warfare. To defeat violence, you must use greater violence. To hear that Fallujah has once again fallen to those who wish to destroy us and inflict their warped idea of religion upon us all, is a slap in the face to every father and mother who lost a son in that 2004 conflict....or, had sons return who can never walk again, or see again, or think straight again. These people understand one thing when it comes to war, and one thing only. They understand greater strength. How do you think Saddam Hussein was able to stay in power for so long, especially when he was affiliated with the minority Sunnis?

Your next question may be, "So, do we become as evil as he, or as Hitler?"  As if that is a valid question. The United States does not have concentration camps that herd millions of people into the gas chambers and we never have. When has there been an equivalent to the Bataan Death March that can be laid to our charge? Has the US ever shipped thousands of Chinese women to government sanctioned brothels so our soldiers could have comfort sex while they are out and about taking over other lands to keep? When we defeated Japan, did it become a part of the United States as a spoil of war? No, the US is as benevolent a country as has ever been seen in the history of warfare.

Make no mistake, we are still at war with radical Islam. What happened in Fallujah a couple of days ago is a direct result of Iran's intrusion into Iraq's sovereignty. They wish to make it a puppet state so they can get that much closer to their ultimate goal, the destruction of Israel and her allies.

So, what can we do? First, we can stop being ignorant of our enemy. They will not cease fighting until they are forced to stop. The operations our government carried out, both in Iraq and Afghanistan, have been impotent as concerns defeating the enemy. All we have done is instill stop-gap measures that have no hope of stopping anything. Second, we can stop being ignorant of ourselves. Islam is the fastest growing religion in the world. When I was a child, or even a young adult, I cannot remember seeing muslim women around here. Now? They are everywhere....and I mean everywhere. This religion is only tolerant of others when they are in the minority. But, what happens when they are in the majority? Saudi Arabia is what happens. Iran is what happens. Libya is what happens. Syria is what happens. Egypt is what happens. And I could go on and on. It will happen here one day and I'm glad I won't live to see it.

I know you're waiting. We have shown no real regard for the sovereignty of Iraq for the last twenty years, so why start now? I would give those in Fallujah a week to get out of Dodge. Hundreds of thousands of pamphlets would be dropped, telling them to get out. Once the week was over, I would systematically carpet bomb the city with B52's until it looked like Nuremberg did after the war....nothing but rubble. Then I would say to the terrorists, "Now you can have it." Otherwise, the men who lost their lives and limbs in 2004, made a sacrifice for nothing. Fallujah would cease to exist if it were up to me.

We have reached a point in our history where the vast majority of the world hates us. So be it. That means we have also reached a point where our politicians and our military need to blow the dust off a book written between 544 and 496 B.C. We need to go back to the basics and a time when we knew how to conduct warfare. Nary a peep has been heard from Japan and Germany since they were almost completely destroyed. They have not forgotten. We need to do the same to our new enemies. They want to hide in civilian clothes and in their mosques? Let them. It's harder to claim innocence when they all dress alike and it's easier to destroy them when they hide in their churches like rats. The time for political correctness and winning over the populace should be over. The time to utterly destroy our enemy's will to fight is long overdue.

However, as I said in the beginning of this post, we have lost our way. The Art of War, for us, has been reduced to finger painting. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, there was nothing short of a will to utterly destroy our enemies. When 9/11 happened? Well, you have seen where we are today, and the distance in ideals, between that time and this, are now light years apart. We are, a nation undone.

My 2014 New Year's Resolutions

Seriously? You looked? LOL.

Christmas Comes In All Packages

We had a poor man's Christmas this year. Moving into a new house was an expenditure extraordinaire, so we decided to forego any presents and content ourselves with good food and company. My brother and sister-in-law brought us a small basket of goodies and our good friend Monica bought us western style stockings, but that was the only exchange.

Most of the boxes of the move had been unpacked, but the living room was still a mess. The greater space of the house allowed us to empty the two storage sheds that were costing us an arm and a leg every month to maintain. It was the temp controlled type, and they...of course...are the more expensive. These sheds kept  all of Mom's things that she had given to our daughter. I mean all of them. Furniture, piano, china, silver, crystal, etc etc. In addition, they stored things we had packed long ago and sealed. Several of these boxes contain Lulu's collector Barbie Dolls. Some are as old as 1982, the year she was born. It became a fad in the family to buy her these dolls, and it was her decision to keep them all in the box and untouched by human hands. In about twenty years, Amanda might be able to get rich quick.

So, yesterday we began to delve into these boxes to see what we could throw away and what was worth keeping. That was when we had a different kind of Christmas.

I found a baseball that mother had kept. In 1960, the Astros were called the Colt .45's. One day, the St. Louis Cardinals came to town and Dad got tickets. Back then, there wasn't that much separation between the players and the fans. You could see a lot of them in the parking lot, making their way to the stadium along with those attending the game. I was only four, but mom recounted the story several times as I was growing up. There was a gaggle of teenagers surrounding this one baseball player for the Cardinals, hammering him for an autograph, his cap, the ball he was carrying, his glove, you name it. As he was walking by, he didn't see me for the small crowd and bumped into me. Mom said he leaned over and said, "Sorry little fella", and handed me his baseball. Mom watched him walk away and noticed the number on his jersey. She bought a program and found his name. It was Duke Carmel. Even though he was only in the majors about five years, and never put up any Hall of Fame numbers, Mom wrote on the baseball, 'Given to Bob Coward by Duke Carmel, St. Louis Cardinals, 1960'. I hadn't touched that ball in thirty some odd years and it brought a joy to me that I can't explain for me to look at Mom's writing and touching something so happy in my memory banks. I found out that Duke Carmel is still alive at the age of 76. I doubt he plays baseball anymore.

My wife discovered her matchbook collection that exceeded several hundred. They are old, but in great shape. I looked up matchbook collectors on Google and found out they even have a name for it. Phillumenist is how I believe it's spelled. Anyway, some of these dudes sell for as much as thirty dollars. We will be sorting through them in a few weeks to see if we have any hidden treasure.

I pulled out of one box a set of hospital scrubs. I noticed some writing on the right breast and it read, 'Labor and Delivery' on the first line, and then 'Beaumont Medical Surgical Hospital' underneath. These were the scrubs I wore in the delivery room when Amanda was born, twenty-three years ago next month. They looked as new as the day they were packed.

Each box my wife and I reached for next was opened with more and more excitement, and none of them disappointed. I found the small collection of photos of my first visit to Paris that I had thought were long lost in a former move. There I was at the top of the Eiffel Tower. A sweet couple was kind enough to take my picture. I found what used to be my favorite T-shirt and it was still in good condition. It was given to me on my fortieth birthday and said, "In Dog Years I'm Dead". I have it on right now. I love this shirt.

It humbles me to know that when we think we can't afford Christmas....it can be delivered to us from the most unexpected places. No, these presents weren't giftwrapped and they weren't the latest gadget to come from the minds of insane gadget engineers. These presents were reminders of our days past and how the good times do....after all...outweigh the bad. I know who gave me these presents. And I just wanted to tell Him....thank you.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Reliant
The Texans were DONE, and with that I ain't lyin'.
Their jock straps were thrown in the trash without care,
For what they once held, were no longer there.

What coaches were left, shivered in their beds,
While visions of hatchets cut off their heads.
And McNair in his hood, and with Smith by his side,
Showed no mercy for the careers that have died.

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
McNair and Smith looked into the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The season was over with nothing to show,
And no one was safe, after falling so low.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
A Santa in red and he was holding a spear.

He poked the team slackers, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than Zulus, he struck them with shame,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Out Schaub! Out Joe! Out Kubiak and Tate!
Out Dennison! Out Ninja! Out Wade to your fate!
To the Obamacare line! You're through with the ball!
Now go away! Go away! Go away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When you met with an obstacle, you laid down and died.
Off to the scrap heap St. Nick he flew,
With the sleigh full of has-beens, and John McClain too.

And then, in a twinkling, they heard from the sleigh,
The crying and whining of those who once played.
As St. Nick removed them from Reliant forever,
We hope they come back, like maybe...NEVER.

A Christmas Memory

I believe the year was 1966. My mother was big on Christmas. She loved putting up decorations in the house and having a resplendent tree with all the trimmings. We never put anything on the outside of the house, but it wasn't because we didn't want to insult our liberal or muslim neighbors. We just didn't do it. In fact, we didn't have muslim neighbors back then and the liberals were few and far between where we lived. Still are.

So, mom is in the store one day and sees something new. It was a self tree flocking machine with the necessary flock. On a lark, she bought the contraption so we could have a Christmas tree with fake snow, or flock. Later in the week she bought a tree and set it up in the garage. Removing the flocker from the box, she read all the instructions and put together the connections and mixed the flock.

Not wanting to make a mistake, she aimed the machine at the garage wall and pulled the trigger. It was a good thing she did. Instead of the flock coming out of the flocker in a spray pattern, it shot a thick stream of goo right at the wall. The flocker sounded like a rapid fire machine gun when it went off, scaring her and causing my mom to jump with fright. Now the stream was flocking the garage wall pretty good with the goo as it trailed upward, hitting the ceiling, with the resultant splatter from the stream coating her hair. Mom turned off the flocking flocker and went to take a shower.

Once clean, and not to be outdone, she returned to the infernal flocking flocker machine and adjusted the output on the nozzle. Being a veteran of flocking flockers now, she held it in both hands and steadied herself, aiming at the tree. This time, she met the challenge with great success as the flocker flocked as it had been originally designed. But the flocking dust from the flock, being sprayed by the flocking flocker machine, began to choke mom to the point where she started coughing and couldn't stop. She accidentally dropped the flocking flocker but had inadvertently placed the trigger in the locking flocking mode. Back then, these types of things didn't have dead man switches. Mom ran out of the garage while the flocker began to spin, spraying its flocking flock all over the garage. When the machine was emptied of its flock, I was sent into the flocked up garage to pull the electrical cord from the socket.

The instructions on the flocker said to let the flock dry for a period of two hours. This she did. At that time, the flocking dust had settled and she went into the garage to retrieve the freshly flocked Christmas tree. I must say that it was beautiful. But...it didn't last. What mom hadn't counted on was the tree had to be transferred from the garage into the living room. This meant it had to go through a door, through the kitchen, through another door and down a small, narrow hallway. The transference of the tree's location was met with door facings, kitchen tables and chairs, hallway walls and living room furniture. By the time it was placed in its desired spot, it had been....shall we say....pretty much de-flocked. It looked like a tree with the mange. In its wake were many little dead flockers and no amount of vacuum power could suck all those little dead flockers up. Mom desperately tried to keep a brave face as she looked at the carnage. Deciding to wait for clean up, she went right into decoration mode. No matter how many decorations she placed on it, though, the tree only continued to look ragged and ill-kempt. The presents underneath helped a little, but we had great fun at her expense that year.

When the tree was finally taken down and put by the side of the street for the garbage men to take away, the flocking flocker machine was in a trash can beside it. I have never had a flocked tree again. Mom said if I wanted another one, she suggested I write Santa for it.

Why All the Angst?

I have yet to watch a single episode of 'Duck Dynasty' and have no clue what the show is about. What's more, I don't care what it's about. But the latest uproar over Phil Robertson and his stance on homosexuality is ridiculous in the least, and hilarious at the most. Oh the horror of it all.

Then you have the mega-churches that stay away from controversial social issues and teach gobble-dee-gook every time their doors open because it's what people pay to hear these days.

For the last 2000 years, every attempt possible that is under the sun has been made and is being made to deconstruct the principles, values, and fundamentals of Christianity. The Soviet Union all but quashed Christianity during its reign. China is the same. Islam is racing across the globe and that for reasons I cannot understand. The last bastion of defense for the faith has been the United States for many decades. Now? The deconstruction of Christianity that has overtaken Europe is not only gaining steam here, it is in full attack mode. Every tenet of Christianity is under siege, whether you wish to believe it or not.

And Christians? They are wringing their hands and shaking their heads and saying, "Oh what shall we do? What shall we do?" My answer? Shut up with the whining. The final victory is near. The battle is not ours, it's God's.

One of my favorite westerns is The Outlaw Josey Wales with Clint Eastwood. An American Indian actor, Chief Dan George, had a great part in this movie. In one scene, he recounts to Wales his meeting with Abraham Lincoln. According to the tale, Lincoln told him and the other chiefs with him they needed to endeavor to persevere. He said they went back and thought about that for a long time. Endeavor to persevere. So they put down their peace pipes, took up their rifles, and declared war on the Union. Too funny. Yet, that is a message Christians of today must take as their mantra. Endeavor to persevere.

I do not promote Christians of this country take up arms to protect the faith. On this matter of the church being under attack, I don't even promote we write our congressmen or senators or president. That would be defined as carnal warfare. To fight this fight with worldly weapons, of any type, would be ridiculous. Paul the Apostle should be our guide here, for he said the weapons of our warfare are not carnal.

As I read the news and see the trends that are taking shape across the world, it gives me great comfort. And, if you are a bonafide Christian, it should do the same for you. It is time...nay, past time....for us all to rejoice at what is going on around us. We were given instructions by Jesus as to what we should look for that would be signs of his return. Are they not evident to you? When you read the paper, it's like reading biblical prophecy. This should excite every Christian.

Peter said that in the last days, there would be a great falling away. A falling away from what? From the church. In Aberdeen, Scotland, you can walk into a magnificent structure of a church building that has been standing for over two hundred years. Its stained glass and opulent wood carved furnishings are enhanced by the 800 tube pipe organ (I think it's 800). But, instead of a church where God is worshipped, it has been turned into a bar/restaurant/casino. The building was historical, and the one time church members had long 'fallen' away, leaving it there to languish and rot from disuse. So the building and land was sold and it was turned into what it is today. You can find it on the internet. It's called, The Soul Bar. I guess they thought that was funny. During my stay in the UK, I saw church building after church building that had been abandoned for years. Many are being bought by enterprising people to use them for other businesses such as the one I mentioned.

In the U.S., it's different. Here, we have empty churches that are filled with thousands of people. Empty I say, because nothing of substance or spiritual value is put on their soul's plate. As has also been written in the Bible, it says that in the latter days, people will heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears. Notice they don't heap to themselves 'preachers', but teachers. In this country, preaching is fast going the way of the dodo. Yet, the Bible says it is by the foolishness of preaching that men are saved. Not teaching. Those churches in this country who refuse to abandon preaching the blood and the sacrifice and stand firm on the scripture, have many empty seats. This should encourage us. For we know the Master is closer than ever.

Don't get me wrong. The church has failed miserably in its task and judgment will begin with us, just as Peter said. Edmund Burke said, "As the church goes, so goes the world." Take a look at the world today and you see the condition of the church. The salt has lost its savour, and is being thrown out to be trodden under the feet of godless men. We should weep at this result that is of our own making. However, look to the east...for the time is fast approaching.

Those who are glad the world is awash with humanism, liberalism, multi-culturalism, and the ideal that whatever you wish to do, no matter if it's a crime against God or nature, will one day realize their error in thinking. I pray it is not too late for them.

I do not advocate a law that restricts people from living their lives the way they see fit. I do advocate freedom to disagree and freedom to verbally express that disagreement with an alternative solution, whether anyone wants to listen to it or not. If your idea of freedom is to expand one over the other, then your idea of freedom is perverted and possibly beyond repair.

Christians of today, I encourage you to endeavor to persevere. Over the last fourteen years, I have not done this. Yet, I am finding myself drawn back to the roots of my faith. It is a slow process, and my anger with God is subsiding as the wounds are being healed. I am on the road to spiritual recovery, and am committed to persevering.

Continue praying for our leaders and this country. Pray for those who are blinded by nonsensical reasoning. Pray for your State, county, city and neighbors. Be a light for those around you and always be ready to make a defense of your faith by studying the Bible with an open mind and heart, to receive the instruction you need to be a valid witness for Christ. Go to a church that still preaches. Raise your children in the way they should go. Give of your increase. And keep your eyes on the eastern horizon. The day is soon coming. And you might just be here to see it. If...you endeavor to persevere. We've already been told these days were coming. Why are we surprised to see it? Always remember this....nothing you read or see has taken God by surprise. He's still on his throne and in control. Smile at the vitriol that comes your way because of your faith and what you believe in. It will only make you stronger for that day when it comes. Everything....and I mean everything...is going according to His plan. And you can take that to the bank.

Wichita? Really?

What has Wichita done to irritate terrorists....or wannabe terrorists? I looked at the pic of this goober and it says a lot. As with Tila Tequila, we have another village absent its idiot.

After further study of this city, it became apparent why the terrorists would want to blow it up. It is, after all, where Pizza Hut began. Pizza Hut has been the front runner of anti-Islamic sentiment since it opened way back when. They put pork on their pizzas. They allow their female customers to come in, unattended by a male relative. The women have their hair exposed and their faces showing.  They are allowed to pay for their pizza and then drive away. What started in this town then infected the rest of the country, making all of us targets of pizza terrorism.

Kansas is the home of Dorothy and Toto. Icons of anti-Islamic sentiment. If you can't see it, then you're too stupid to know what I'm talking about.

The wannabe terrorist worked for Hawker Beechcraft. You know them. These are the guys who sold a bunch of Texan T-6 trainers to the Israelis. No terrorist likes Israel. The Texan T-6 is a single turboprop that is used to train new pilots. So Beechcraft must be destroyed. Obviously.

I always thought Al-quaida(?), was targeting New York. In New York you have yankees. Nobody likes yankees. In New York, you have the press. That way, you can get your mayhem on the news post haste. In New York, you have all the financial big-wigs, so if you blow them up, you can hopefully ruin our country's economy. There's ALL kinds of reasons to blow up New York.

But Wichita? I don't even know Kansas exists until something like this hits the news. Only Kansans know they exist and they aren't that proud of Wichita, anyway. Wichita doesn't even have an NFL, NBA, or MLB team. What good are they without those, I ask?

What we have here is a mentally messed up dweeb who's life didn't turn out like he wanted it to and finally realized the world would never know he lived, breathed, ate, reproduced and crapped unless he did something spectacular. Like blow up an airport and kill a bunch of people. The major error in his thinking was he believed people elsewhere in the world care about what happens in Wichita. No, he barely made a headline.

But that's okay, Terry. I'll give you a headline. Here it is.....

Some Nobody in Nowhere, America Planned on Blowing Up Airport Nobody Knows About

There. You are now known by millions for being an idiot. All your cellmates will treat you like an idiot....and like a nice, curvy woman...for years to come. Welcome to your new reality. It's going to be a whole lot worse than the one you tried to escape from.

We all want to make some kind of mark in life. But, how about starting at home. Then, be somebody in your neighborhood. Be somebody at work. But, try to be a person who is decent. There is only one you need to impress. Manage that, and you get all the recognition necessary. That is, if you're not an idiot living in Wichita.

An Example of How It Should Be

I want to take a moment to sit back and write about a friend of mine. His name is Kingsley and he is from Nigeria. He has been living in the U.S. for a few years now, and will soon become a citizen. Unless the immigration people get my letter in time....but that's another story.

The first time I met Kingsley he had just been hired by the company I was working for. Someone took him to my office to introduce him to me. The initial words out of my mouth do not bear repeating, but let's just say he took it in stride. It didn't take me long to discover a few things about him.

Here's the good things. He is a decent man with a big heart to match his size. Being very articulate and having a vocabulary that either rivals are exceeds my own, we used to play a game over the e-mail system, trying to give each other words that we didn't know the definition of. Needless to say, it expanded both our minds in the realm of weird words.  Kingsley is a very good engineer, conscientious and thorough. He has an infectious laugh. Even though he is a grown man, when he laughs you can see the 'child' has never truly left him. In today's world, that's a good thing. Too many grow up and become stiff in their demeanor.

Now, here's the bad thing about Kingsley. He's a flaming liberal who would make Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid proud. Not to mention Obama. Kingsley has come to this country and decided the best political action he could take would be the wrong one. Being as highly intelligent as he is, this puzzles me.

He refers to me as a right wing nut job who is one of the most infuriating people he's ever met...politically speaking...and maybe in other categories. We have had some very terse and forthright discussions, sometimes resulting in each of us having to step back and re-evaluate the humanness of the other.

However, one thing has not happened. We have never stopped liking each other. We have never stopped supporting one another. And we have never stopped being friends. I told him the other day that I do not choose my friends based on their political beliefs. He feels the same way. Kingsley has repeatedly contacted me to find out how the movie deal is going and how my book writing is progressing. He called me this morning to check on my wife when he found out she was ill. In other words, Kingsley is a gentleman of the highest caliber. He doesn't allow our diametrically opposed beliefs to interfere with our relationship. We are not enemies. If anything, we are political opponents. If you look in the dictionary, there is a huge difference between the two.

And, this is how it should be in this country. I don't like the Democrat agenda and he doesn't like the Republican agenda. I think the Democrats are taking us down a road to economic destruction. Kingsley is the exact opposite. Yet, we still love each other like brothers. When I was going in for my heart surgery, I asked Kingsley to be a pall bearer at my funeral should I not come out of it alive. That's how much I think of him.

I have other liberal friends who enjoy putting me down on a personal level. It doesn't really bother me. I enjoy doing the same to them. But it doesn't have to be that way. How it should be, is how it is between me and my friend. I think he's crazy. He thinks I'm crazy. And we move on, arm in arm, checking on one other, caring for one another, and supporting one another. He is a good man who will do great things. Of that, I have no doubt.

Liberals Speak with Forked Tongue

Liberals are supposed to be the all inclusive ones. The fair ones. The ones who's heart bleeds when a sparrow falls or a tree is cut down or when the snail darter is in trouble. They are the section of our society who cares about the 'little' guys, the ones that the 'big' guys can't hear or won't hear. They are the saviors of our world. So they think.

Libs are like Muslims. Yep. I said it. Just like 'em. Muslims are all inclusive and fair and their hearts bleed for the little guy....until they aren't the little guy anymore. Once they become the majority, things change fast. Just ask the French or the Dutch and soon the Brits. They aren't so willing to listen to anyone else once they grab hold of political power.

Libs are the same way. Exactly the same way. Exactly.

The libs controlled the House and Senate when Obama was elected. With the majority of the country against the Affordable Care Act (I can't help but laugh every time I say or write that) and without one Republican vote, this poisonous law was forced upon us all. With the libs in control of the Senate, they change the rules so the majority can have a leg-up on the minority and quash their voice. Yes, I was reminded by a flaming liberal one day that the Republicans almost did it, as if that gave some sort of legitimacy for the Dem-lemming-crats doing it. But, liberals have their head stuffed so far up their arse they need a plexi-glass belly button to see where the hell they're going. I just consider the source.

Now, the real proof is in the pudding as to their thought processes as we shift our view to California. It seems the California exchange has been sending out people's private information, who have tried to sign up for insurance, to the insurance companies. Names, phone numbers, addresses and e-mail addresses, all sent out without any of these people's knowledge or consent.

Libs don't believe in living inside a republic. They want a  true democracy. They want 'majority' rule, especially since they are now in the majority. Don't believe me? Here's a quote from the guy in California running the State exchange. "I know some people will be upset, but I also know a lot of people will be comforted in knowing this will expedite them getting the coverage they need."

Back up. There's the difference. 'Some' people are relegated to nothing. While the majority of people are the focus. That's a democracy...not a republic. Okay, let's do it. Here's a couple of places we can start.

Homosexuals:  Gays are a minority in this country. So, throw out gay marriage, gay rights, gay anything. I know this will upset some people, but I also know a lot of people will be comforted in knowing these few will be dealt with as the majority sees fit.

Blacks: We need to pass a law that is retroactive to the sixties civil rights movement. A lot of people didn't want blacks having equal rights or even close to equal rights. We need to take all laws off the books that helped to elevate blacks in the social system and give them opportunities they didn't have before. I know this will upset some people, but I also know a lot of people will be comforted by going back to the old ways of doing things since the majority is in control.

In fact, I find it outrageous that alllll these libs are boo-hooing over Nelson Mandela's death and are shouting at the top of their lungs how great his legacy was and is. How disgraceful. Libs have no more motivation to emulate him than a redneck wants to emulate a cross-dresser. Mandela had every right, when he ascended to the presidency of South Africa, to push a radical agenda and have 'Payback' on his platform for all the ills the white government inflicted on him and his people. But, he didn't. He was truly a man for all the people, despite his socialistic tendencies and his communistic background. He didn't allow his personal views to obstruct his decisions on what would be fair to all, the minority as well as the majority. He knew that to represent his country, he had to represent everyone and let everyone have a voice. And, what's more, he tried his best to make it happen. So, if you're a liberal and you're glad the minority voice is being shut out and you're glad that things are being shoved down our throats and you're glad you're agenda is being espoused over the little guy....then shut up about how much you respected Nelson Mandela. You're nothing like him and you probably never will be.

He was a little guy who became a big guy and never forgot that when the big guys lose sight of where they came from, it's bad for all. This is where the liberals in this country are failing the common good. Their mentality is the same as Valerie Jarrett. Those who stood against her and her ilk are now facing 'payback', and Obama is enabling her at every turn. Obama and his group of thugs don't hold a candle to Nelson Mandela. And those that follow him and support this charlatan should never mention Mandela's name again. It only degrades what kind of man he really was.

Are you glad California is spitting out private information on its citizens without their knowledge or consent? Then you are a part of the overall problem that is seeing this country die as a republic. You want a true democracy? Then, you can only be described as an idiot and your village misses you.

Sad Day

Went to Saratoga yesterday to be with the in-laws on Thanksgiving. The food was good and the visit was nice. But it wasn't a very good day.

After eating, I went to a couple's house that are very dear to me. They are up in age and have been friends to my family all my life and before. Prior to my leaving, the husband, who I believe is 90, rose from his chair to show me an old photograph. He is quite unsteady on his feet and ended up falling, hitting his head on an open drawer. I rushed to his aid and helped his wife get him back in the chair. He wasn't hurt badly, but it shook me up to see him fall like that. I stayed for a little while longer to make sure he wasn't seriously hurt.

I was heading back to my in-laws when I had an urge to go see the old house that my dad built and lived in with my mom for over thirty years. A nice man and his wife bought it from my mom and have made many improvements. When they were thinking about buying it, I told them they had to promise not to cut down a cedar tree that was in the front yard. In 1973, I found this little tree in the forest. It had chosen a poor spot to grow, the seed having landed between two huge pine trees. I returned home and got a shovel and uprooted the little thing and re-planted it in the front yard. It only stood six inches tall when I saved it. Over the years, it grew like a weed and was a magnificent looking tree. The man agreed not to cut it down. I was there about eight years ago and the tree was still there and growing. However, yesterday...when I arrived at the house, the tree was gone. All that was left was a stump about a foot high. The man came outside to greet me and I asked about the tree. It seems the last hurricane that came through that area almost uprooted it and it was leaning perilously close to the house. He had no choice but to have it cut down by professional loggers to save future damage to his home. The man told me the tree had reached about forty-five feet in height. I could tell by looking at the stump that it had gotten very big. It was almost two feet in diameter. When I saw it was dead, it broke my heart. Why the death of that tree affected me so, I have no real idea.

The man took me inside the home so I could see the improvements he had made. There were many, but I also noticed that many of my dad's fingerprints were still intact in the home. The glass wall was still there that he put in so mom could sit and drink her coffee, watching the squirrels and the birds at their many feeders. The fireplace he built and the cedar ceilings were still there. All put in by my dad. All this did was remind me that I could never spend another Thanksgiving or Christmas in that house with my parents. It brought back memories of him working so hard on that house that at times mom would have to pry his fingers from the hammer when his hand would cramp up. I remembered Lulu racing her wheelchair up and down the front porch with a smile of pure glee. The four by four posts that hold up the front porch were still there, and the concave shapes on some of them were still apparent from when mom's cats would use them as scratching posts. Tears were coming from my eyes, so I took my leave and ended the visit....probably for the last time.

Back at the 'ranch', my mother-in-law was falling asleep in her chair. She looked so old and tired. This lady has been my best friend in this family for over thirty-five years. I remember her being robust and full of life and, most of all, happy. Back in the day, the whole family would gather round on this day and Christmas and the house would be full of laughter and good food. Now, we're the few that show up and stay for a while. Oh, there are a couple who come for a short visit, but most have moved on and live too far, and their children have had children and life has taken a different turn for them. I'm not being critical of any, only stating my perspective. Still, looking at her in that rocker, with her chin almost touching her chest; all I could think about was that soon, Memaw (as we call her), wouldn't be able to get the fixin's together for the holidays and that her diabetes was fast taking a toll on her.

Then, right before the Dallas game, my wife informs me that we have to leave. Upon asking why, I'm told that our daughter has to go get a friend of hers who has arrived from up north and was in Huntsville with her family. This really hit me wrong and I said so. I defiantly watched the first quarter and then begrudgingly loaded up the car and left. Believe me, the day only got worse from there.

Sometimes I'm not too happy that we don't get three wishes in life. One of mine would be to go to sleep and wake up on January 2nd...after the 'holidays' have passed. I don't need them

Some Things Are Sacred

I don't ask for much in my house. Here's the list....

1.  Don't hit me with an emergency the moment I walk in the door. (Unless there's an intruder in the house or it's on fire) Give me thirty minutes.

2.  During football season, I own the TV when the games are on and everyone else needs to leave the room or shut up.

3.  When I go to bed, don't be loud.

4.  Do not try to save money on toilet paper.

That's it.

So, I come home the other day and had to go to the throne room. Upon finishing my business, I reach over to grab some toilet paper and it feels like sand paper in my hand. I could only imagine how it would feel where I commit the application of said paper. Further, it already had brown spots on it. I inspected further and it looked like bark. Like tree bark. I've heard of this before. A comedian was talking about this kind of toilet paper one time and he took a roll to his wife and said, "How do I know when I'm through?!" Exactly.

The purchase of this paper was an egregious transgression of Rule Number 4. In my mind, it ranks right up there with the Cuban Missile Crisis. At a time when Venezuela is suffering from a severe shortage of TT paper, why is this type not being sent to them by the freighter load? I mean, they don't like us anyway, so send them the bargain basement paper. They already have the red-ass about us, so let's make it redder. Right? Why do I have to suffer with this?

I immediately went to She Who Holds the Purse and registered my complaint. This included the following:

A.  I want velvet type construction put in to my TT paper.
B.  If possible, get some that has lotion in it and smells like a spring day among blooming Dogwoods.
C.  I want virgins singing outside my window from just dreaming about how it feels to the touch.
D.  I want the Number 2 experience to be in the top five of things that bring me pleasure.
E.  Buy TT Paper from a specialist boutique, not Wal-Mart, Sam's Club or any other bottom dollar establishment.

And finally,

F.  Never should I have to speak of this....again.

She Who Holds the Purse listened courteously as I laid out my complaint. I was told...uh...er...yeah, told....the paper would not be thrown out and it would be used according to its purpose until gone. But, I was then informed that allowances would be made concerning the comfort of my tuckus and no expense would be spared from that day forward where TT paper is concerned.

Some things are just too sacred to mess with. I'm glad we got that straightened out. Still, having a hard time sitting right now. Too much 'ruffage' I guess.

Bullying

Of all the subjects I post about, I think I can honestly say that on this topic...I'm an expert. After all, my last name is Coward. How do you think I was approached while going through school?

"Hey, let's see if yer a coward!" Wham!  "Hey, coward! Git outta my way!" Slap! Push! Bam!

Bullied? Yeah, until I got to my sophomore year in High School at West Hardin when my parents moved us to Saratoga. Seems country folk are a little less screwed up than city folk, at least in some areas.

The way I always looked at it, my name prevented me from backing down. In my mind, if I backed down, then my character would befit my name. Running was never an option for me. Junior High was where it was the worst. The leading 'gang' was a group of kids that had failed two or three grades and should have been in high school. They were much bigger than the rest of us and used the size differential to intimidate and browbeat their victims. They were led by the smallest of them all. Let's call him Shelby. One day, in seventh grade, I was waiting for the coach to come out of his office so P.E. class could start. Shelby comes up to me, out of the blue, and starts slapping me in the face with his jock strap and asking me if I liked it. I knew two of his goons were in the same class, and to retaliate would mean a certain beat down with me on the receiving end. I also knew that if I took this humiliating treatment, I better get ready for a steady diet of it. So, I took the only option available to me. I jumped up, and with the back of my left fist, came around and caught him squarely on the jaw. My right fist followed in quick succession and took out Shelby's nose. Blood started running from it as he reeled backward, trying to stem the flow with a hand. Like two hell bats on fire, his goons come rushing up, towering over me, when one of them said, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" I looked at them with a "What?!" expression. Before they could pounce, the coach came out of his office and blew his whistle, indicating that we were to go into the gym. Saved by the shrill bell, I was. However, I was warned by Shelby that I was as good as dead. The next day, my dad went up to the school and spoke with the principal. When he found out the perpetrator was Shelby, he told my dad, "I wish your son had killed him." It was then we found out this individual and his minions had been more trouble than just at the school. The local police knew them all too well, and they were bad news. Shelby and his gutless wonders were put on notice about me, and I had little trouble out of them after that. I also found out that other 'bullies' at the school had a newfound respect for me and left me alone, seeing how they might just get their noses busted if they messed with me.

All this drama about Jonathan Martin and Richie Incognito is crap. When you're in a locker room with a bunch of other jocks, there are different rules to live by than anywhere else in the outside world. You take care of business....mano a mano. And, if you're six foot eight hundred and weigh more than a battleship, what are you afraid of? The NFL is a business built on controlled violence. I have seen many fights among football players in my years of watching, and not once has anyone been killed, maimed, or disfigured for life. Nor have I seen any of these men put in jail for assault. It's the code of the locker room. If some guy won't get out of your face, you make him get out of your face. Martin would be completely respected by his peers if he had locked horns with Incognito instead of running home to momma and hiring an attorney. Instead, his NFL career is likely over because he's been labeled a 'cry-baby' by those he would have to line up with and against if his career were to continue.

We read almost every day about this person or that person getting bullied at school or at work. Then, every now and then, we read about someone who commits suicide because they were bullied. If you could still fight at school without being arrested, suspended, hogtied and tattooed, bullies would be cut to a minimum. Those who bully are the real cowards. Once you smash their nose to the back of their skull, they leave you alone. I don't care how big they are. They are like any petty criminal. They go to the weaker of the flock. If you establish yourself as NOT being one of those, bullies let you go in peace.

And what about work? Too many people today are 'afraid' for their jobs and allow their bosses to mistreat them to the point where they lose their own souls to these people. Don't ever be afraid to defend yourself. I had a boss one time that gave micromanagement a bad name. After six months of this idiot, I determined to not take it anymore. One day (2005), I told him that nothing he said surprised me, because he hadn't made a correct decision on the project since I had been there. That was when I effectively quit. He was too stupid to realize my last name is Coward and that might have some history behind it. He went insane and pointed at the door, yelling, "You wanna step outside?!" I smiled and said, "Yeah. Let's go. I've been wanting to whip your ass for four months." Walking into the hall, I turned to see him still standing where I left him. I said, "You comin'?" And, he wasn't. Let's just say I burned that bridge down to the ashes when I walked back in the office and said, "If you aren't man enough to go outside with me, after YOU gave the invitation, then you aren't man enough to say another word to me. If one more thing comes out of your pie hole, I'm gonna stomp a mudhole in you and march it dry." I then asked him if he understood me and he nodded that he did. I packed my personal belongings and walked out. I had an F-150 pick-up at the time and started a hot shot business until something better came along. Never be afraid for your job at your personal, self-esteem expense. Bullies are like Frankensteins. They aren't born, they're created.

Bullies are more prevalent today because our society has been pussified to the point that if you defend yourself, you're the bad guy. Well, I don't mind being labeled the bad guy by a bunch of pussified twerps who don't have the backbone to hold up a feather. I've been called hot-headed, crazy, intolerable, and a host of other names. But, nobody messes with me. During my stay in London, I built a reputation as someone who got the job done and didn't care who he had to step on to get it done if they were standing in my way. And believe me, there were a ton of them. The project director came up to me one day and said, "I need a person to go down to Nigeria and be the project coordinator for getting our equipment loaded on time and all the site receipt tests completed. This person has to be willing to knock heads if he has to in order to get the job done, and I thought of you." During that six month period in Nigeria, I was grossing $55,000.00 a month. If they were going to pay me that much, nobody was going to prevent me from doing my job. Nobody. I ended up running the client rep off my job site one day. Another time, I told a lifting expert if he didn't want to hang around to watch a 45,000 pound lift, he could get in his car and shag the hell out of my face. He did. We were having trouble getting the port to have our heavy equipment arrive on time at my job site. I told the port master that until my equipment started showing up on time every day, he would be having breakfast with me EVERY morning until it did. I never had to have breakfast with him. Several Nigerians working on my barge kept coming up to me for money. I went to their supervisor and told him that if they asked me for money again, I was going to throw him overboard. Never heard a peep from them again. The client engineer tried to intimidate me, but after three weeks, he preferred to stay in his office and let me feed him reports on progress. One night, a fellow in our bungalow decided to bring one of the local prostitutes to his room, which was next to mine. After about thirty minutes of head board bumping on my wall, I knocked on his door. The young man opened it and I said, "Do you have to go to work in the morning?" The young man replied that he did. I said, "So do I. Keep the noise down or I'll have security throw both of you outside." Their 'lovemaking' was of the silent type after that. Another gentleman decided to get so drunk one night that he was slamming doors and cursing loudly, keeping us all awake. The next morning, I found him passed out on the front porch. I took several pictures with my cell phone. Later that afternoon, once he was awake and sober, I showed him the pics. It was then I informed him that I OWNED him. I said, "If I hear one more peep out of you that disturbs my sleep, these photos go to your boss and you go back home without a job." As you can see, bullying comes in many shapes and sizes. Some say these examples might be defined as being discourteous. What do you think bullying is? It's where a person thinks their behavior supercedes any liberties you may have.

To defeat violence, of any type, is to meet it with greater violence. No? Then how did we defeat the Nazis and the Japanese? It is easy to reduce such analogies to our personal spheres. Those who know me don't mess with me. Those who don't know me learn quickly not to if they decide I'm their next mark. I don't care if I lose my job. I was looking for one when I found this one. I don't care if people don't like how I respond to others who think they are better than me. I respect others as long as they respect me. If they don't respect me, they find out it is to their detriment if the behavior continues. Most recently, back in June of this year, we had a man on the phone during a meeting who kept interrupting me while I was speaking. Being the 'client', this perturbed me to no end. I informed the gentleman to stop interrupting me. He continued. I then said that if he interrupted me again, I was going to conclude the meeting. He did it again. Meeting was concluded and I issued a formal protest against this man's continued presence on the project. We haven't heard from him again.

Weaklings pervade our society and they scream and whine and cry and wring their hands, waiting for someone else to ride in and save the day. Save your own day, you mealy mouth bunch of babies. Stand up for yourself, instead of cringing in the corner and whimpering like an idiot. Be strong, and of good courage. That's what will stop bullying. Nothing else.

It Will Never Stop

When there are too many idiots in the world, then idiocy will reign supreme. Therefore, we are now officially living in 'Idiot Land'.

The world governments are on a slippery economic slope. Wars and revolutions are going on in more than a hundred countries. Starvation, disease, illegal drugs, corruption, piracy and every other thing you can think of that destroys lives, communities and the very fabric of civilized societies are issues that must be grappled with if we are to live on a secure planet.

But, what is the most important thing on the news today? Whether the Washington Redskins should change their name or not. Now, it's looking like the owner of the franchise is going to 'cave' and do just that. I mean, it's the politically correct thing to do. Right? It will make all the liberals feel better about themselves. Never mind that it won't help the American Indians any. They will still be destitute and living on a dead end road with no hope of a prosperous life. But, at least the liberals won't have to look at that horrid name anymore on Sundays. Out of sight, out of mind, eh?

I wish the owner would contact me about a new name. It should be indicative of where they are located. How about the Washington Taxmen. Or, the Washington Corruptors. I personally prefer the Washington Liars. Then, there are others such as the Washington Leakers, the Washington Spies, the Washington Ambassador Killers, the Washington Crashers (Obamacare website dig), the Washington Destroyers (as in our economy), the Washington Dictators, the Washington Spinners, and finally the Washington Wussies; for caving in to the idiocy that permeates the liberal psyche.

I guess we'll also have to change the name of other teams, eventually. The Chicago Bears is too violent a name, and I believe has a direct correlation to the violence that has defined the city. How about the Chicago Yogis. Yogi is a friendly bear with a sidekick named Boo-boo. That should get the crime rate down. The Dallas Cowboys will have to change their name because it's too sexist. What about the cowgirls? They've been left out. Yes, the Dallas Cowpeople would come off much better. The Oakland Raiders definitely have to change their name. That is an unlawful occupation to raid anything and is, by definition, politically incorrect. How about the Oakland Pacifiers. They could even use the name as a great marketing tool and turn their mouth pieces into pacifiers they can suck on the entire game. Has anyone asked a bunch of dolphins if they are okay with Miami's team name? The New Orleans Saints have to change their name due to religious intolerance. The New Orleans Ecumenicals would be much better.

The fact is, the name Redskins doesn't actually harm anybody. It is a benign name for a football team that is based in the most corrupt, scandal ridden and power hungry section of our country. If you think about it, the name doesn't really apply to native Americans. It applies to the color of our politicians' skin when they come out before the press and spew out lie after lie after lie. Their faces turn red from the audacity of it all. All the Redskins have to do is take the present logo off their helmets and paste a photo of Pelosi in its place, or Harry Reid. That will explain everything about the name of the team.

The main problem with liberals, other than having a mental deficiency, is they only look outward...never inward. Their self-sanctimonious, narcissistic, out-of-control, false opinionated outlook on people in general wouldn't be nearly as sharp to cut others if that outlook was turned to an inlook. An honest self appraisal might get them to be a little less squealy about the perceived wrongs they see in the world that is committed by others and realize that, at least in part, they are the problem.

The race baiters are winning and in so doing they are creating the atmosphere desired. Divisiveness is what they want. They want people to vote based on racial bias and look at the exterior of the candidate instead of what they possess on the inside...which is the most important characteristic of anyone's personality. To bow down to these screeching calls to change the name of a football team that has been in existence since 1932 is to grant these idiots more power, which is exactly what we all, collectively, should not want nor allow. It will only encourage further idiocy that will ultimately invade our own individual lives, which it is already.

But, alas, I am in the minority when it comes to being politically correct. I posted a tongue-in-cheek 'short' comment on grandkids the other day and, as expected, someone got their feelings hurt and just COULDN'T believe I was like that. I love to post things sometimes just to see what kind of reaction I get and I am seldom disappointed. Attack people's grandchildren? Are you nuts? Too funny. The sensitivities that are out there boggle my mind. Especially when the subject doesn't affect a person's own life. Yes, I'm an advocate for native Americans. I am appalled at how they are treated. But, maybe the best place to start would be in helping them with housing, food, job training, self-worth seminars, medical help, etc. THEN, we might start thinking about changing an NFL team's name. To do the latter first, is to be an idiot. And, since there are too many of those running around breathing good air...the idiocy will never stop.

The American Spirit is Not Dead...But It's on Life Support

The reason I know the American spirit is not completely dead is because of a report I heard today. It seems the government, due to the shutdown, informed the Air Force Academy in Colorado that it would have to cancel its next game because there were no funds to transport them there. United Airlines, in a great PR move, contacted the academy and offered to fly the team to the game and back....on the house. Kudos to United Airlines and I hope they make a squillion dollars a year in profit.

You see, in a capitalistic society that is built on high ideals and a sound, moral center; such as ours used to be, neighbor helps neighbor. Families reach out to strangers in their time of need. Communities unite during hard times and see to it the whole remains intact. What United did today is just like that. No matter the motivation, it is a 'cost' to them in the short run to make such an offer and carry it out...if they are allowed to. But it is a personal cost. United isn't just throwing money at the problem like our government does, believing that's all you need to solve problems. It's putting its own time, material, personnel and resources into the challenge.

Therein lies the rub. If the American spirit was truly alive and well, strong as ever and ready to rumble; the report today would have mentioned more than one airline. And don't try to tell me the airlines are still suffering. All that means is you haven't tried to fly anywhere in a long time. The fact that only one is mentioned is why I do believe our spirit is on life support.

I read a story on FoxNews.com today about hikers up in Idaho that are missing and there aren't any federal funds to send searchers in to find them, since it's a government park they are in. I'm thinking, "Okay, so don't send anyone in to get them." I know that sounds harsh, but this particular area is not for the hiking squeamish. If one is not experienced in that kind of terrain, not in excellent shape and not prepared for emergencies, they have no business in that area to begin with...if they care anything about their own well being. To always expect the government to be on hand to save you...in every situation...is to surrender your self worth, your individuality, your very freedom....to a thing that cares nothing at all about your liberties.

The wussification of this country is mind boggling. Oh yeah, we've got all these guys and gals who want to be involved in all these extreme, outdoor sports (mountain climbing, snow boarding, rock climbing, parachuting, racing, hunting, hiking, camping in wilderness settings, boating et al); but when they inevitably get hurt, there better be a helicopter equipped rescue team, a doctor a nurse and an ambulance at their side in less than five minutes or the lawyer is on speed dial. When did this happen to us? When did it become the government's responsibility to be our savior every time we decided to do something dangerous, ill advised or just downright stupid.

Stop putting warning labels on dangerous things! It will weed out the stupid people who marry stupid people and raise stupid kids to keep the insane process alive.

I've touched on this in a past blog, but it bears repeating. Aren't you glad the first pioneers, when they looked to go past the Appalachian Mountains, didn't retreat because there wasn't a government rescue squad there to get them out of trouble? I am so glad someone didn't say to them, "Hey, mister! They's be wild injuns on that uther side. Youze crazy to go on out there by yore-self. It's toooooooo dangerous." If it were today, the guy would look back at the man and say..."No rescue team? No government assistance? No government supplied rest stop where I can tinkle? Well, that's pure madness!!!"  And, we wouldn't go.

What kind of country would this be without that pioneering spirit from yesteryear? Look at what it's become with it withering on the vine.

This is how it should have stayed. Family taking care of family. Neighbor taking care of neighbor. Community taking care of community. Nation standing strong, together. Government protecting us from foreign invaders, and leaving us the hell alone, in every other category, to take care of ourselves. Yes, the American spirit today is only a whimper of what it once was.

And, do you know what the worst part of it is? We let it happen with eyes wide open. So, we have no one to blame...but ourselves.