All in the Family featured the curmudgeonly Archie Bunker. Archie was television’s most famous grouch, blunt, blustering, straightforward and untouched by the PC crowd. He was the archetype of the conservative male. Michael desprately tried to reeducate him, but he persisted in his breviloquence.

Looking back at the last 40 years, we realize: ARCHIE WAS RIGHT!


Thread Starter

"If people really did have several pounds of "impacted" poop up their butts,….”


They would live in Minnesota, vote democrat and elect America’s first Muslim to congress. Then they can feel all warm and fuzzy about Keith Ellison refusing to take the oath of office on the Bible, and how we’re such a great multicultural nation, because we include people who belong to a religion made up by a murderous pedophile in congress.

Supposedly the civil war settled the issue of states succeeding from the Union. Is there a ruling on what states we can throw out? Minnesota has proved that its electorate is even less capable of casting votes then Florida. In Florida they had the excuse that old people get dementia, senility and Democrat voters probably went to public school. What's Minnesota's excuse, they hate America's Christian heritage and have embraced their inner Garrison Keller?

I don’t think the Bible imparts any special “holy” or “godly” quality to the ceremony or to those empowered because of it. Judging the quality of the character of those in public office I’d expect them to bust into flames just touching the Bible. I can only pray God would be so generous in blessing America that way.


If You Can’t be a Star…

The wife likes watching the CMA awards each year. Most years they interfere with something I’d rather be watching so she tapes them and watches latter.

Last night she wanted to watch them and I sat through part of it with her. What amazed me wasn’t the stars, the songs, the stage show or Faith Hill’s little fit. I was impressed with a man that was inducted into the hall of fame.

I had never heard of him. I doubt many country music fans every have. Sure you may have seen his name before if you were reading through an album cover. Even if you had read it I doubt you would have remembered him.

Harold Bradley had a career as a performer and studio musician that lasted over sixty years. He is without a doubt the most recorded guitar player in history. His resume of songs, reads like a who’s who of country music, covering the last half century.

Yet few outside of the Nashville music scene have heard of him. Bradley is a minority in the entertainment business. He’s a vary talented musician, who’s achieved a rare level of accomplishment. No doubt he’s made good money at it. In an industry where fame is the goal, he traded off fame for professional and personal accomplishment.

I bet he got to go home most nights, see his kids, kiss the wife and pet the dog. He’s quite the contrast to other performers in music today that sacrifice family, friends and values in order to get fame at any cost.

Then again, maybe he is the real star.


Wise Turkey

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop,

Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know.

His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of Black November:

"Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you'll get six meals instead of just three,

"And soon you'll be thick, where once you were thin,
And you'll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin.

"And then one morning, when you're warm in your bed,
In'll burst the farmer's wife, and hack off your head.

"Then she'll pluck out all your feathers so you're bald 'n pink,
And scoop out all your insides and leave ya lyin' in the sink;

"And then comes the worst part," he said, not bluffing,
"She'll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing."

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,

And decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked,
I'd have to lay low and remain overlooked.

I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads, juice, and diet cola;

And as they ate pastries, chocolates, and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes.

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed;

But 'twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death.

And sure enough, when Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound.

So now I'm a pet in the farmer's wife's lap;
I haven't a worry, so I eat and I nap.

She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiled at me and said, "Christmas is coming..."

Happy Thanksgiving


Getting Ready for 2008

I predict the Republicans will be back with a vengeance and retake every, and I mean EVERY political office in the land. At least they’ll raise the quality of political debate to this level:

Self Education Bleg

I know we’ve got a good number of home school folks out there and more than a few math geeks. I need some major input on curriculum for teaching higher level mathematics. This isn’t for Baby Ipsa it’s for me. I never took advanced math beyond college algebra and statistics. I’m finding that I need to be able to comprehend and use more math than I ever thought I would in order to deal with engineers.

What I think I’m looking for is a way to refresh myself with college algebra and progress to Alg II, Trig, and Calculus. Then I need to know how to “hit the high points” with engineering terminology and discover what formulas and concepts are important in various disciplines like petroleum, and electrical engineering.

I would like to do this on my own, without investing in another degree. I have a EE who will help me out with some things but he’s going to cost me a bunch and I can’t afford to hire all this out. Please load me up with info and specifics.

I don’t need to be the next John Nash, I just need to be able to comprehend theory, work comfortably with the equations and program it into Excel, to work up my proposal and not have the math blow up in my face when the engineers get to looking at it.


On a business trip, my father approached a security checkpoint at the airport. The National Guard shift was rotating, and a guard, in full uniform, was in line in front of him.

As with everybody else, the soldier was ordered to go through the metal detector. So, as he did so, he handed his M-16 rifle to security personnel along with other items such as handcuffs and a flashlight.

Still, the alarm sounded when he walked through. Further inspection revealed a little Swiss army knife inside one of his pockets.

"Sorry, Sir, but this item is prohibited," security said to the soldier.

Then, taking the knife away, the airport worker handed him back the M-16.

I think that story was written just for fun but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. The wife wants to fly to see her folks for Christmas, I'm not in favor of it but I won’t have time off to drive her half way like I did for Thanksgiving.


Gary North Reprint

"Most people are content right where they are . . .
given the cost of changing.

Nevertheless, they have unfulfilled dreams. They also have unfulfilled potential. They have time, although it's running out in a grimly predictable manner. They have not achieved what they hoped they would achieve. They would like to come closer to their original goals. But they don't change. There is a reason for this.

Unfulfilled potential, dreams, and hope all begin with
two words: "If only. . . ."

Like Mt. Everest, there looms a barrier to "if only": price. At zero price, there is greater demand than supply. This law of scarcity applies to unfulfilled potential, dreams, and hope.

Yet there are two prices: (1) the price of attempting to fill the unfulfilled; (2) the price of not filling the unfulfilled. The second price we call regret.

I have known a lot of successful people in my line of work. I have never heard any of them express emotional regret for a project they launched that failed. Financial regret, yes, but not emotional regret. But on occasion, I have heard some of them express regret for a project not launched.

This is a defining mark of successful people. They can contend with specific failures far better than they can contend with unfulfilled dreams.

Conversely, a defining mark of less successful people is their inability to deal with the threat of specific failure, and their emotional acceptance of unfulfillment.

In "On the Waterfront," Marlon Brando plays a washed-up prize fighter who had been told to throw a fight. This ended his career. He never got over this. In one of the most famous lines in the history of the movies, he complains to his older brother, who had carried the message to him to take the fall: "I coulda been a contender."

Brando the actor recognized that the power of this line comes from the feeling, almost universal, that every man has that he, too, could have been a contender.

As the movie works out, he becomes successful. When he must show real courage and stand up to the corrupt labor union boss who told him to take the fall, he does so. Why? His moral dilemma can be solved, but only at a very high price. He faces death. But he has been down the dead end road before. Death looks better than a moral dead end. He decides to be a moral contender.

That's why it's important that people know the difference between a failed attempt and a failed dream. If a specific failed dream is inherently a failure, then it can be abandoned without shame. Not every dream should be pursued. But if a dream defines you in your own eyes, it is better to try to achieve it and fail. Better to regret not having succeeded than not having tried."

The above was Gary North's work. I thought that was worth while. Be a contender.


Monday at Work

Every have one of those days where you just wish you could shoot something?

We have a policy at work that whenever it rains, snows or otherwise is wet muddy or hard to get around on a dirt two track that we can’t go out to the field to work. The reason for the policy is two fold (allegedly) the first is safety; they don’t want you wrecking a truck or driving off a cliff because the roads are bad. The second reason is the company doesn’t want to shuck out the cash to build good gravel roads. This is because (1) building good roads cost big bucks and (2) we’d have to renegotiate the surface damage contracts and payouts.

Nobody wants to have to open that can of worms. The company that developed these fields (not my employer) royally screwed the landowners on every aspect of the development they could. The landowners have figured that out and are dying for a chance at paybacks. I think one day they may get their chance. One of those ranchers is a friend of mine and I’d like to see him made whole on the deal.

If the roads are wet, I don’t work. Anyone could see that there was 6 inches of wet snow on the ground when they got up. The reasonable thing to do is to go back to bed. What happens instead is we show up for work and then we get to have meetings, stand around the office, waste time etc.

Eventually I get to go home. I went for a drive.

Then I went for a walk, saw some deer, like this doe. She’s in the center of the pic and only 40 yards away.

I had decided that this would be a bad day to be a spike. I would shoot the first deer with horns that I came across. I went for a hike, saw a few bucks and couldn’t get a shot.

About 200 yards up slope I saw a doe wandering around. I waited. I saw another deer come out. She was a doe too. After a bit another deer showed up but was blocked by some lodge pole pines. The wind was gusting and the first doe had picked up my sent and had worked down slope to see what I was. She was looking right at me. I was busted!

Oh well. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened. I put the scope on the last deer in the group just to see if I can tell what it is before they run to cover. He’s got horns! I drop to my knee to shoot. There is a pine branch in the way at that angle. I stand, no time to loop up the sling. It’s got to be off hand if it’s going to be at all. Tuck in the left elbow to the chest, find his shoulder, drift the crosshairs back to the left. Squeeeze. The shot rings out. Deer jump up all over the hillside. I can’t tell if I hit mine or not.

I walk up the hill pacing out the distance to the pine tree that keep me from improving my rest. It’s 264 yards. 10 feet to the right is this guy:

Not my best deer ever, but not a bad way to spend Monday at work. Bad news is that I didn’t realize that the batteries were dead in the digital until after I had him hanging in the garage skinned out. Sorry this is the only pick that I have of the horns. He’s a small 2x3 whitetail.

I got him with that old 30.06 that my day gave me and some home made 150 grain ammo that I worked up.

True Story

As I’m coming out of the hills yesterday thinking about bloging about my little adventure, I’m flipping through the radio stations. I caught a bit of “Those Were the Days” (the All in the Family theme song). My mind drifted to thinking about if this was an appropriate place to use the word “ironic”. I don’t want to make Space Bunny mad and transgress one of her pet peeves.

I’m singing along and right when they get to the part in the song where it says “didn’t need no welfare state, everybody pulled his weight”; the announcer breaks in on the word “didn’t” and announces “this is NPR, National Public Radio”.

I guess NPR is a little touchy about some topics.


Election Wrap Up

If a picture is worth a 1,000 words, I’ve found a pic that explains the election.

Embrace the same values as the liberals. Mimic the same policies as the liberals. Engage in communistic wealth redistribution, just like the liberals. Try to shag a boy fag, like a liberal. Try to buy votes with government hand outs. Ignore both the spirit and the letter of the constitution; fail to execute even one major conservative platform promise, then set back and wonder why the Republican Party has become as impotent as Bill Clinton in a hot tub with Hillary.

If Republicans are even semi serious about being a party for American conservatives they will run Allen Keys and Roy Moore for president and vp in 2008.

Don’t hold your breath.

GWB, its not the war stupid! Its about standing up for the things we voted for the first time we put the Republicans in power. Tax breaks that expire unless we revote Republican aren’t tax breaks, they’re a bribe. If the Republican Party really believed its rhetoric it would have enacted its political platform into law at some point in the last 6 years. They don’t believe in conservative/Christian/American values, they believe in sound bites that pander to those they hope will vote for them, just like democrats.

Newt Gingrich saw the big picture, why doesn’t anyone else?

Mixed Feelings

Yesterday John Kerry said, "You know education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well, and if you don't, you get stuck in Iraq"

So I wrote him a letter:

I am a Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. I am currently on my second tour in Iraq, a tour in which I volunteered for. I speak Arabic and Spanish and I plan to tackle Persian Farsi soon. I have a Bachelors and an Associates Degree and between deployments I am pursuing an M.B.A. In college I was a member of several academic honor societies, including the Golden Key Honor Society. I am not unique among the enlisted troops. Many of my enlisted colleagues include lawyers, teachers, mechanics, engineers, musicians and artists just to name a few. You say that your comments were directed towards the President and not us. If we were stupid Senator Kerry, we might have believed you.

I am not a victim of President Bush. I proudly serve him because he is my Commander and Chief. If it was you who was President, I would serve you just as faithfully. I serve America Senator Kerry, and I am also providing a service to the good people of Iraq. I have not terrorized them in the middle of the night, raped them or murdered them as you have accused me of before. I am doing my part to help them rebuild. My role is a simple one, but important. You see Senator Kerry, like it or not, we came here and removed a tyrant (who terrorized Iraqis in the middle of the night, and raped them and murdered them). And we have a responsibility to see to it that another one doesn't take his place. The people of Iraq are recovering from an abusive relationship with a terrible government and it's going to take some time to help them recover from that. We can't treat this conflict like a microwave dinner and throw a temper tantrum because we feel like it's taking too long.

Senator Kerry, you don't have to agree with this war. You don't have to say nice things about those of us who choose to make sacrifices for the rights of every American rather than sit back and simply feel entitled to it. But please Senator Kerry, if you're going to call me a stupid murdering rapist, stick by what you say. Don't tell me that I misunderstood or that you would never insult a veteran because you're one too. Having been there and done that does not give you a free pass to insult me.

My suggestion for you, Senator Kerry, is to remember that your speeches are recorded, and broadcast to us simpletons over here. You may want to write down what you want to say before you say it, maybe have somebody look at it before you say it and tell you what others might hear. Remember that we can't read your mind, if there are any misinterpretations in what you say, it's because you didn't communicate clearly.

Good luck to you Senator Kerry, if nothing else it's always entertaining to watch you try and climb out of the holes that you constantly dig for yourself.

Somebody who is watching his daughter grow up in photographs so that you can have the right to say whatever you want about him.

I’m not sure we need to be in Iraq or that “the most important issue of our time” really is. I do support and respect those who are willing to put on this nations uniform because they do. John F’ing Kerry is a waste of oxygen, the only thing that kept him form being elected president was he insisted on campaigning in person. If he sent a life sized cut out poster of himself and never said a word, he could have won.


The Parable of the Politician

While walking down the street one day, a senator is tragically hit by a truck and killed. His soul arrives in Heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in,it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says the senator.

"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"There's no need! I want to be in Heaven," says the senator.

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator, the doors open, and he rides the elevator down, down, down. When the doors open again, the senator finds himself in the middle of a beautiful green golf course. In the distance is a club, and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in formal dress. They run to greet him, and they reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.

Also present is the Devil, who is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that, before the senator realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up, and the door reopens in Heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.

So 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by, and St. Peter returns.

"Well, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now, you must choose where you want to spend eternity."

He reflects for a minute and then answers, "Well, I would never would have thought it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better satisfied in Hell."

So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator, and down, down, down he goes into Hell. Now, the doors of the elevator open, and he is in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. And it's hot, hot, hot, and the odor is just horrible.

Sweltering hot. Hot and miserable. The Devil comes over to him and smoothly lays his arm around his shoulder.

"I don't understand," stammers the senator. "The day before I was here, and there was a golf course and club, and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time. Now all there is is a wasteland full of garbage, and my friends look miserable."

The Devil looks at the senator, smiles, and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us."


Oil Field Trash

Monday morning 5:25 am. I haven’t rolled out of bed at 5:30 to show up for a job in years. It’s cold out. I don’t know exactly how cold. The wind is gusting up to 35 mph, everything is ice. This sucks.

I pull on my steel toe boots. It’s been 17 years since I wore work boots for a job. The wife has made me a lunch. It’s been 9 years since she’s done that.

Drive to the office, I leave early, can’t be late on the first day. Everyone else is late. I’m not. The HR guy issues me flame retardant coveralls, safety glasses, hard hat, and a gas monitor. Meet the lead man, head to the truck, he wants to know what I used to do for a living.

I told him about my last job in very general terms. I remember back and talk about jobs I had in school: being a shop rat for an automobile company, working construction, the fencing company, restaurant work. Those things I busted my butt doing so I could go to work at 9, in a nice warm office. The efforts I made so I wouldn’t have to work for a car company or some other POS job to make a buck are wasted now. I didn’t let on about being a professional. I don’t say squat about going to college, or grad school. Those things won’t help on this job. I left them off my application. No one needs to know about them now.

Oil field companies will hire newbie’s if they’re petroleum engineers, ignorant laborers or Texans. They don’t hire guys without industry experience; who are taking a step backwards on the career ladder in hopes of getting a foot in the door, and for health benefits in hopes their wife can stay home. I know. I’ve been applying for over 10 months to this company and several like it.

They do seam to cotton to Texans. They like Texans because most of the bosses are Texans and because you can work a Texan almost as hard as Mexican before they curl up and die. I’m not an engineer or from Texas.

Man is it cold out. Radio says coldest day of the year so far. Before leaving the house I start a fire. The boy is in his room and getting fussy. No reason to bother the wife. Check the diaper, change it, put the little guy back into his sleeper and kiss his head. He smiles, coos and lays on daddy's shoulder, sound asleep. All is well, daddy will take care of whatever needs to be done.

I can out work ten Texans.