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!


In Other News

There was no looting in Dallas at a rally to support lawlessness in Ferguson Mo.  This might have had something to do with it.

Open Carry Advocates Shadow #MikeBrown Protesters in Dallas – No Vandalism Reported

Three members of an open carry group called Come and Take It Texas had rifles over their shoulders as they followed a small group of Ferguson protesters who marched through downtown Dallas Wednesday night.
Marchers stayed on the sidewalk the entire time and never left Lamar St. as they walked into downtown by El Centro College and returned to Dallas police headquarters where they started.
The open carry advocates said they respected the marchers’ right to protest but decided to show up to protect private property.
“We’ll stand between them and private property,” said Matthew Short, from Come and Take It. 
Three Texas rednecks did what the Missouri National Guard, Eric Hold and Obummer were unable to do.  They kept the peace simply by being themselves. 

Black Friday

This is how to find your wife, even in the busiest shopping mall.  Follow these four point instructions, the technique never fails. 
  1. Have a look around at the shoppers, then walk up to the prettiest girl in the store. 
  2. Say to her, 'Excuse me, can you help me?  I cannot see my wife, and I know that she is here in the shopping mall somewhere.  Can you just talk to me for a couple of minutes?'
  3. The pretty girl will ask: 'Why?'
  4. You reply: 'Because every time I talk to a beautiful woman, my wife materialises out of thin air.'


Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving my friends.

May we all look back and remember all the things we have been blessed with this last year.

One thing I'm thankful for is my readers who stop in each day.  I consider you friends and I am grateful for each of you.  My God bless you all in 2015.

Turkey Day Turkeys

Our kids love Thanksgiving diner and it's all because we're learned how to draw a compromise between the old and the new. We have a 22-pound turkey -- but we stuff it with Big Macs.

Indians and the Pilgrims

Nathan, a young boy, after hearing the story of Thanksgiving and how the Indians and the Pilgrims sat down together, climbed up into his father's lap and said, 'Daddy, did you know that if we were Indians, you would be a brave and Mom would be a squawk?'  'That is the best description of your mother I have ever heard, Nathan', replied his daddy as he ducked.

Pilgrim John: I see thee cleaning hunting gear for the morrow. Dost thou plan on hunting bear?
Pilgrim Samuel: Certainly not, John. I am shocked that thou would suggest it. I shall wear clothing as usual!

Thanksgiving at the Playboy Mansion


If You Liked The Last Post

If you liked that last post, you'll love the latest Fred.

The Second American Revolution
An Utterly Objective Analysis
The Revolution of 2019 began, curiously enough, in fall of 2019 when Mary Lou Johnson, the nine-year-old daughter of a ranching family outside of Casper, Wyoming, came home from her sex-ed class at Martin Luther King Elementary with a banana, a packet of condoms, and a book called Sally Has Two Mommies. Her mother Janey Lou, a political reactionary, took one look and began screaming. “Goddamit! Goddamit! I’m not going to take it anymore!”

 She grabbed the shotgun, a nice Remington 870 loaded with double-ought buck, and headed for the school.

Historians would debate just what led the surrounding population spontaneously to join her. Much of it seemed to have something to do with the schools.
Other than leaving out our contempt for the wolves, Fred pretty much nailed it.  Enjoy.

Bonus SNL


Take My Wife

Marriage endows a man with certain knowledge.  This knowledge is of a very intimate sort.  It's the kind of knowledge about another human being that no one should know about another person, yet we do.  If it wasn't for marriage there are some things that we men would never know.  Never. Ever. That's the way that God wanted it.

God had the whole thing planned out in advance.  He knew that in order to take to entirely different bi-pods, with divergent personalities and core values and get them to live together, reproduce and raise offspring, He would have to do something special.  He would have to trick us.  So that's what He did.

Tricking the man was easy.  All that was required was boobs.  Well...and a nice butt.  Ok, we like the legs too.  Long hair and a nice smile helps.  Alright, its basically all the pink parts.  But that's it!  Not really, there are some domestic benefits too.  Whatever the other benefits are, you and I both know it, she had you at boobs.

Our best scientists have been trying to discover exactly how God tricked the female for about 5,000 years or so.  We still haven't nailed it down yet.  As far as we can tell it has something to do with a fear of spiders and an inability to change oil or deal with mechanical things.  Lifting heavy stuff and reaching things on the top shelf might be in there.  One guy even researched the never ending need to ask someone, "does this make my butt look big?"  We've been researching this for millennia.  We still don't know.  Every time someone gets close to figuring it out and publishing a paper on it, boobs!

Besides the pink parts the married man gets other benefits.  Food.  Food is good.  Food is a lot like boobs, except you can put it in your mouth in public and nobody gets upset.  My wife doesn't cook all that often but when she does I appreciate it.

One of the wife's signature dishes is cheesy potatoes.  That might not be the real name of it, I don't know.  I call them cheesy potatoes.  I'm not sure how to make them or what's in it.  I think it's cheese, potatoes, and crack cocaine, but there might be other stuff too.  Cheesy potatoes good.  Ug. Ug. Yum!  This is important latter.

One item of very intimate knowledge about my wife is she sheds.  All women do this.  All of you.  Stop trying to deny it or rationalize that, "its not that bad".  You all do it.  Frankly I suspect that it's one of the ways you mark your territory.  My wife knows when I've been around other women, because inevitably she finds some other women's hair on my sweater.  How she knows its not hers is a mystery.  It probably works the same way dogs sniffing each others butt does.

Yes she knows.  I remember one time I spent the weekend with a regular of this blog.  His wife is a redhead.  His daughter is a redhead.  Both are attractive women.  My wife knows that as a young man I went through a redhead phase.  I got over that part of my life, and most of the scars are healing nicely.  I mean of course the physical scars.  The emotional ones were easy.  Been there, done that, curl up in the fetal position when I think about it too long.

I came home after a nice relaxing 3 days away to "the examination".  The examination is a lot like a perp walk in a cop show, except there is only one suspect and the jury has already found you guilty.  The wife spotted a tell tail red hair on my shirt.  Deftly she plucked it and looked it over.  She sniffed it too. 

"Where did you get this?" she wanted to know. 

"I dunno", I said, "get what?"

"THISSSSS HAIR" she hissed.  "It's red", she said.

Do you remember that scene in The Green Mile where they are practicing for the execution?  It was pretty much like that, except with less mercy and compassion.

"His wife is a redhead", I said, thinking that settled it.

"This isn't middle aged married hair" she accused, "It's teenaged hotty hair".

"Ummm" I paused.  Incidentally the long "ummm" is the married mans primary defensive tool in these situations.  It's a stall technique. Sometimes we can stall long enough for the wife to figure out a perfectly legitimate, and harmless explanation that lets us off the hook.  Sometimes.

"How did you get it" she asked.

I should have went for the "Ummm" again, but I had just used that and it didn't work.  So I did what perfectly innocent married men have been doing for ages.  I panicked.  Then I told the truth.

"From sleeping in her bed", I offered.  Yep.  I said it.  I was too dumb to lie.  Incidentally I stick to the couch when I crash there now.  The doc says if everything goes ok I can get the metal plate out of my head next year.

Women shed.  All of you.  Normally the only spare hair that causes me problems is my wife's.  Mostly its just a inconvenience in the food.  Remember I said it was going to be important latter.  Tonight we had cheesy potatoes.  Sometimes if they get over cooked they stick to the pan.  If they're just a little over cooked, we fight over who gets them.  If they get way over cooked, the dog gets them.

The potatoes stuck to the pan and got over cooked.  I think the dog knows that a slight burning smell means he's getting a treat.  Anyway I scrapped all the brown stuff off for him and put it down on the floor.  He walked right over, took a slobbery sniff and right as he was fix'n to stick his nose in he stopped. 

The dog looked at the dish.  Then he looked at me.  Then he looked at the dish and gave a snort.  He pushed the dish with his paw and whined.  Then he looked at me again, as if to say, "what are you trying to pull here"? 

I looked down at the dish.  Sure enough there were two long people hairs right smack in the middle of the burnt cheesy potatoes.  I pulled them out.  The dog eagerly wagged his tail and dove in with a gusto.

Not only does my wife shed, but it grosses out the dog!  This is almost as good as the time my daughter "tooted".  I'm told little girls don't fart.  She tooted and the dog placed both his paws over his nose and whimpered. 

At what point do you go from redneck to white trash?  We gotta be getting close.  If Jeff Foxworthy shows up with a film crew I'm done for.  Either that or I need to rethink buying purebred dogs.


A Thought

This is just a thought.  I haven't particularly worked it all the way out.  Here it is all the same:
  • Talk of impeaching Obummer is counter productive insofar as:
    • There are not enough likely votes in the Senate to actually impeach
    • Impeachment would still leave his bad decisions in place:
      • The amnesty
      • Obummer lack of care
      • Tighter controls on industry
      • EPA overreach
      • Damage to the economy
      • Supreme Court appointments, etc  
  • Impeachment makes Obummer a "hero" to the left especially since it will be unsuccessful
  • Impeachment will be seen as or promoted as a racial motivated event by the left and create more social unrest.
What we need is another, better option that gets Obummer out of office and undoes some of the damage done by his reign.  Why not finally address the "birther" objections?
  • A Senate Resolution declaring Obummer is not lawfully a "Natural Born Citizen" would only require:
    • A Hearing on the floor of the senate
    • A motion of disqualification for office
    • A vote garnering 51% support for disqualification
  • Adequate evidence of non-qualification has already been assembled by a lawfully elected sheriff and would meet the procedural requirements for evidence used in a trial.
  • If Obummer is found to not lawfully occupy the Presidency:
    • All acts signed into law would lack constitutional authority
    • All  political appointments would be voidable
    • All  executive orders would be null
    • All administrative law rulings would be subject to review
  • A finding that Obummer was  illegally in office due to fraud would allow:
    • The government to pursue reimbursement for the personal expenses the first family has incurred at taxpayer expense
    • Those expenses could be paid out of the estimated $180 million left in Obummer's campaign coffers
    • This wouldn't come close to repaying his extravagance, but it would reduce monies available to the political machine that elected him
    • Obummer would be ineligible for a federal pension or any other post office taxpayer funded largess
I see the "birther route" to removing Obummer from office as preferable to impeachment mainly because impeachment legitimizes the actions and time spent in office.  The "Birther Option" effectively delegitimizes the last 6 years of his reign.

There are no doubt cons to this plan as well.  There would need to be an all out publicity campaign to shift the hearts and minds of his most loyal supporters to reduce the civil unrest that would result from taking the king of the throne.   There would also need to be a massive rediscovering of Republican cajones.  Republican senators should look for them at the midpoint where the thigh bones connect to the hip bone.  John Boehner should look for his in Nancy Pelosi's purse.


That Time of Year

Thanksgiving Divorce
A man in Phoenix calls his son in New York the day before Thanksgiving and says,"I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.

"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams. We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the father says. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her."

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they're getting divorced," she shouts, "I'll take care of this,"

She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at her father, "You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "they're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."


A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked the stock boy, "Do these turkeys get any bigger?" The stock boy answered, "No ma'am, they're dead."

Using a new recipe, my wife put the turkey in aluminum foil. She had to roast it until it was brown. Twenty-four hours later, the aluminum foil was still silver.




Be Prepared

Grandma was showing the children a painting of the Pilgrim Family on a Thanksgiving Day card that they had received and she commented, 'The Pilgrim children enjoyed going to church with their mothers and fathers and praying to God.'

Her youngest grandson looked at her doubtfully and asked, 'Then why is their Dad carrying that rifle?'


A Good Kid

I saw this and had to repost it.

HIGH RIDGE, Mo. - It's a story of a young life saving an even younger one.
When an 11-month-old stopped breathing inside the High Ridge Walmart store Wednesday, Hillsboro High School student Abby Snodgrass knew exactly what to do.
"I was in the dressing room and I heard them call for the emergency over the radio," Snodgrass said. "They said, 'No pulse, no breathing.' And I just ran over there."
Snodgrass found a crowd surrounding the infant and her panicked mother.
"She did not look like a normal baby, she didn't look alive. And once I saw that no one was doing anything I asked if anyone knew CPR."
It turns out Snodgrass had recently learned CPR at her school.
It's a great story.  I wish they had more details but I'll take what I can get. 

Nobody knew what to do.  The baby had stopped breathing and was dying.  A crowd had gathered.  Other than a panicked call for help, nobody was doing anything.  They were waiting for the professionals. The teenager didn't know if CPR was going to work, but she did it anyway. 

That's the take away message from the story.  Hero's are made when the sheeple are standing around waiting for the professionals.  Hero's happen when someone does the right thing, even if they have doubts.  She wasn't sure if it would work but it was the right thing to do, so she tried.

The Cos

I had a little informal chat with a TV personality this evening.  She is a cute thing and does some work (apparently I've never seen her on TV) for a show on the Discovery Channel.   The question of the Cosby regret sex, I need some cash and I'm willing to lie about things, rape allegations came up.  The blond asked me what I thought happened.  I told her that 30 years ago some chick spent 2.5 minutes alone in a room with Cosby and now wants a payout.

I guess she disagreed.

"Have you EVER met Bill Cosby?" she asked.  Without waiting to hear my reply she went into a tirade about how if I never met him I wouldn't be able to judge his character.  At least that's the point I think she was making.  As she was finishing up her diatribe it dawned on her that my answer to her first question was "yes".

"Well then do you know the women he rapped?" she parried.  "Nope" I said.  Sensing I was about to take a full broadside akin to the first one, I shot back, "I don't need to, skanks are skanks, they are all the same".  My comment had some of the effect I hoped, but not all.  She tried a line of how many famous people do you know.

Technically none.  What she asked was "how many famous people have you met?".  I may not "know" them but I've met lots of them.  That's the thing about famous people, everyone recognizes their name.  Us "normal" people tend to remember our encounters because of the other person's notoriety.  Which is silly because if I'm telling you about this one time I bought gas at a self serve station in Hailey, ID and I met a guy from Austria you'd never invite me over again.  If I mention the guys name was Arnold Schwarzenegger, the story becomes more interesting.  Well not really, but it beats the one about meeting Gorbachev in Arkansas.

After tarnishing my carefully crafted image as a jerkwater Wyoming native redneck, I went on the offensive with a question of my own.  "How hard do you think it would be for the most famous and finically successful comedian in American history to get laid?", I wanted to know.  "Um, I don't know, not hard?" she admitted.  Then I got extra nasty,  "How many men did you put out for to get your gig?" I said it with a smile.  I'm ashamed to admit I said it.  She squirmed and smirked but didn't give me an answer. 

I drove the point home, Cosby always promoted his image as a family man, always.  If that was all an act, which maybe it was, we don't really know, why would he need to force himself on anybody?  Hollywood has always been about easy sex, at least since the 1920's.  The Cos could have nailed any chick, white, black or plaid he wanted.  I don't think he did, because that's not who he was or what he was about.  Even if it was, after his first album in 1963 (the one with the Noah monolog) he didn't need to play it clean.  Society and the American culture became more accepting of permissive lifestyles.  Cosby on the other hand kept cleaning up his act while the culture went the other way.

The man had five kids and has been married to the same women most of his life.  I'm guessing with five kids he gets lucky at home.  Yes he had an affair in the 1970's.  It was consensual, not rape.  Yes he had a stable of hoes for several years.  Which proves he was a man in demand with the women, and like many men would, he failed the test.  Did he drug and rape tons of other women?  Why would he need to?  He has tons of cash.  He has tons of fame.  He has all the game a man could need.

"I never thought about it like that", she said.  She also mentioned she was staying the Marriott and her room number and something about drinks and continuing the conversation.

I came straight home, and blogged.



Sometimes I read a story that inspires me.  Sometimes I read a piece that chokes me up inside.  Sometimes I read an article that reminds me that heroes are still around.  Every once in a while I read something that does all three of those things, and more, much more.

Did you hear about the day that God delivered a message directly to the politically correct yet spiritually bankrupt crowd in Washington DC?

It happened.   It happened on November 14th 2014, in of all places The National Cathedral.  It happened in an audible voice with a message that no one could misunderstand.

As it turns out the voice of God doesn't sound like Morgan Freeman, or even a blend of Charlton Heston and Cecil B. DeMille doing a voice over.  God's voice sounds a lot like a perimenopausal quinquagenarian Michigander.  Don't let that distract you from the message.  What was said will echo alongside the great eternal monologs on par with: "Let My People GO!", "Thou art the man" and "Repent or in 40 days you will be overthrown".

The National Cathedral describes itself thus:
Washington National Cathedral is called to serve as the spiritual home for the nation. The Cathedral is a national treasure and an architectural feat, a place of stunning beauty built to inspire. Inside, artwork and exhibits tell the American story of faith. Outside, you can explore gardens and grounds shared with three outstanding schools—or peer with gargoyles from the city’s highest point.
This is a place for spiritual enrichment above all, whether you come here for worship, a concert, a pilgrimage, or an insightful program. It is a place open to all.
It is open to you.
It is open to you, especially if you support the violent overthrow of the United States and the death of all those who will not convert to Islam.  Which is why in a spirit of "interfaith inclusiveness" they decided to hold an Islamic Prayer Service this last Friday.  What they did was set up a big press event disguised as a demonstration of tolerance.  Since they were being oh so tolerant, security was in place to silence dissenting views.

Christine Weick, a 50-year-old Michigan woman with flowing blonde hair who lives out of her car, rose from the packed National Cathedral, the hall of halls in terms of religious prominence in America, and moved toward the front of the church.
She pointed to the cross hanging overhead.
That cross seemed to be the one thing nobody wanted to look at, she told WND Saturday in an exclusive interview.
The Muslims had set up their prayer rugs in such a way that their backs were turned on the cross, which they consider an alien religious symbol. Jesus was a prophet but was not the son of God and never died on a Roman cross, according to Muslim teaching. Yet, they found themselves staring at a woman who demanded the cross become the center of attention. She then blurted out the message she had traveled all the way from Tennessee to deliver.
“Jesus Christ died on that cross. It is the reason we are to worship only Him. Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior,” she said. “We have built enough of your mosques in this country. Why don’t you worship in your mosques and leave our churches alone?”
She immediately heard voices in the crowd yelling for security. 
What she didn't hear, but I wish she could, is the cheering of her countrymen who agree with all our hearts with what she said and did.

I wonder how long it will be before the religion of peace carries out a fatwa.  Personally I'm praying for a brook of Cherith redux, or better.

May God bless Christine Weick and protect and prosper her.



Yesterday evening I posted about an experience I had my Freshman year of college.  It was a bit of an eye  opener to me to learn that college wasn't necessarily about learning and that sometimes what was expected was the appearance of learning and not actual learning or intellectual development.

If you are like me you probably rank colleges.  Some schools are, "the best", "top" "really good" or just places to drink beer.  Whatever your personal classification system you probably think of American Ivy League schools as the best in terms of intellectual abilities of the students.

Not so.

Ivy League students ask Rick Perry for anal sex during campus visit
“I know you have been very strong on all foreign policy issues, including Somali pirates, but what is your stance on butt pirates?”
The above took place at Dartmouth.  For those of you who don't know, Dartmouth is where people who have too much money send children who aren't smart enough to get into Harvard or Yale.

If it was my kid and money, I'd expect something more intellectually stimulating than questions involving condoms.  Then again maybe there is why the guy who wrote the list didn't make it in to Harvard.

Charm School

Two delicate flowers of Southern womanhood were conversing on the porch swing of a large white-pillared mansion.

The first woman said, "When my first child was born, my husband built this beautiful mansion for me."

The second woman commented, "Well, isn't that nice."

The first woman continued "When my second child was born, my husband bought me that fine Cadillac automobile you see parked in the drive."

Again, the second woman commented, "Well, isn't that nice."

The first woman boasted "Then, when my third child was born, my husband bought me this exquisite diamond bracelet."

Yet again, the second woman commented "Well, isn't that nice."

The first woman then asked her companion, "What did your husband buy for you when you had your first child?"

The second woman replied "My husband sent me to charm school."

"Charm school!" the first woman cried "land sakes, child, what on Earth for?"

The second woman responded, "So that instead of saying 'who cares?', I learned to say 'Well, isn't that nice.'"


College Daze

The first year of college was a disappointment for me intellectually.  School teachers had been repeating two facts to me for as long as I could remember: 1. You need college to make something out of your life, 2. College is hard.  The hidden message behind point #1 was that if you didn't go to college you would somehow be a failure.  The message behind #2 was that you were expected to study hard because the work was difficult and if you didn't study almost all the time, you would fail.

I bought both points, hook line and sinker.

In my defense I was young and didn't know any better.

There were certain subjects that I loved.  There were other subjects that I was very interested in learning about.  Part of my motivation was arrogant.  I had been told that a knowledge of certain things made you a "cultured" or "classy" person.  This was nothing more than a form of, "I'm better than you".  That didn't matter to me, I wanted to take those classes.

My desire for educational snobbery helped me to chose some of the "advanced or honors" classes.  History was one of those courses.  I loved history.  I read the assigned text and the supplemental readings.  I chose Josephus's Antiquities as the basis for my original material term paper.  I loved history.  I read and reread and took long pages of notes.  I got a "C" on my first test.

I had done everything to prepare for that test that could be done.  I got a "C".  I went to the professor.  "What else could I have done?"  I didn't get a coherent answer.  I had scored a perfect 100% on the multiple guess section of the test but he marked me down for my essay and short answers.

We had another test in two weeks.  I studied harder.  I studied longer.  I got another "C".  Same reason as before.  I felt like the 11 year-old Chinese kid that offed himself because he got a 98% on a calculus test.  This was one of my best subjects and I was getting a "C".  Maybe I wasn't college material.  Maybe I should just get a job changing oil or making parts in the factory.

A upperclassman came to my aid.  "The trick" he said, to getting an "A" on the essay portion is to write a lot of stuff.  I didn't buy it.  I refused to believe it.  My previous answers were correct and complete.  There must be some sort of intellectual nuance that I missed.  Yet the guy telling me this was the TA.  He graded the tests.  At least he graded the multiple guess section, the essays were graded by Dr. Hensley.  The good Dr. wasn't about to actually read them.  He had been teaching for over 30 years and had no interest in the reflections of college freshman.

There were 3 tests, the final and my term paper left.  If the TA was right, I could save my grade for the semester, if he was wrong I could seriously endanger my scholarship.  I rolled the dice.

Test day came.  I aced the multiple guess section in less than 15 minutes.  I made sure my short answers were 3 to 5 sentences long and a bit redundant.  Still I had 45 minutes for the essay.  I wrote  complete and accurate material.  Then to bulk it up a bit I started off on a creative writing exercise.  I don't remember exactly but I think I went off on what kinds of songs the Roman Legions might have sung when marching.  I know that one of them started out; M I C, K E Y, why?  because we like you, M O U S E.  I may have gotten the entire lyrics for Black Sabbath's War Pigs in there along with some other filler.  I closed it out with a summarizing paragraph to legitimize my essay and handed it in last.

Monday I got my test back.  There was a big A + on the top and a note from the TA.  It was in red ink and said, "This Rocked".  Unknown to me at the time, I had learned the first rule of higher education, pretend that you are doing what they want, its more important to get along than to do good work.

Cemetery Watchman ...


In honor of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month...

My friend Kevin and I are volunteers at a National Cemetery in Oklahoma and put in a few days each month in uniform.  Today had been a long, long day and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's and have a cold one.

Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 16:55. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I
could tell.

I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am, may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.

'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.'  (Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.)

She looked again.

'Marine, where were you stationed?'

Vietnam, ma'am.. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I

I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

She smiled and winked at me.  Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.

'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flower bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out.. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.

She paused for a second and more tears flowed.

'Two more, son, and we'll be done.'

I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

She looked confused.. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

'Oh!'  she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly..'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at.  She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out and more tears flowed.

'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was my
husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines.'

She stopped! Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know.  She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.  I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.

'Get to the 'Out' gate quick.. I have something I've got to  

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road fast. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.'

I humped it across the drive to the other post.  When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut!  Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.  She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice far beyond the realm of most.

I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

Sorry about your monitor, it made mine blurry too.


Quick Note

I've been considerably under the weather this last week.  I've barely made it into work.  Monday and Tuesday I barely made it out of bed.

I'm not 100% sure of the cause of this illness.  Last month the doctor switched one of my meds.  After changing over to the new pills I started feeling run down.  I had a blood draw done last Friday and received the results on Monday.  Thursday I saw the doctor.  The long and short of it is that my liver reacted very badly to the new drug.

I don't know if the new meds screwed up my system and made me sick, or if I was weakened by the meds and contracted a bug that knocked me on my butt.  I've been off the drug for 48 hours now and I'm feeling better.  With any luck I'll be back to normal by Monday.



My brother was recently launched into the "real world" and shocked by the expenses that came with it. He was complaining about the high cost of auto insurance.

"If you got married," teased my dad, "the premium would be lower."

He smiled. "That would be like buying an airline just to get free peanuts."


Father Knows Best

I don't know if they have a "Father of the Year" award in India, but they might want to consider this guy for a nomination.

Man calls daughter’s ‘rapist’ home, tortures and kills him, say police
Furious over the alleged rape of his 14-year-old daughter by a 45-year-old married man, the father called the man to his house on Friday night, treated him to dinner and then tortured him to death, police said. He then went to the police station, surrendered himself and gave police a detailed account on how he tortured and murdered the man.
I reviewed a sampling of the comments on the newspapers site.  They are running about 9 out of 10 in favor of giving the dad a medal.  As a civilized human being I have mixed feelings on the matter.  On one hand the father said noting and plotted his revenge for two months.  This is clearly an act of premeditated murder made more gruesome because of the pain inflicted on the victim.  

On the other hand, I'm a dad and if the story is true, the rapist needed killing.

We outlawed Lex Talionis and the semi-private administration of justice years ago.  Both of those concepts were for most of human existence the only justice available.  India was a British colony and for a time received the benefits of English Common law. I believe the legal system there is still heavily influenced by colonization.  The legal system in India is also reputed to be highly corrupt.  In such cases its almost impossible to tell if justice has been served.

The legal system only works in America because we as a collective group of people have faith in its working.  When we as a group, lose faith in that system we will return to Lex Talionis and semi-private administration of justice.  I believe that we may very well be headed that direction.


Tomorrow is the mostist importantist election ever. 



Here in the cowboy state our republican, supposed to be one of the good guys, governor Matt Mead is in the process of reelection.  Matt Mead is a Jackson Hole native, which means he's loaded.  It's rumored that when he sold the family ranch he got $110 million.  Now he spends most of his time with other limousine liberals plotting the destruction of the state of Wyoming.  Right now his biggest priority is importing Somali jihadist and possibly carriers of Ebola to "relocate" in Wyoming.  None of these refuges will have jobs, be employable, or be welcome anyplace in the state.  We are going to have to support them out of our taxes.  So of course he's pushing hard to make it happen.  One other fact, none of these newcomers will be relocated to Jackson Hole.   You don't shit in your own yard.

I'll be writing in a candidate for governor.  Like that's going to fix anything.  I'm doing it anyway.  Taylor Haynes for Governor!

Go ahead click the link.  Notice anything?

I'll let the irony settle in for a minute.   Wyoming is the whitest state in the union.  The only person with his hat in the ring that opposes illegal immigration, importing Africans, and generally screwing over the last place left known as America ain't a white man.  Which is more than OK by me.  Cause here in Wyoming we've always judged a man by the content of his character, not the color of his skin.

In national news they are "reporting" the possibility of a massive republican revolution in Washington.  In other news they are reporting massive democrat voting fraud.

Let me break it down for you.  It's all pre-election propaganda.  Not one bit of it matters.  In the unlikely event that Republicans win it all, the news men are able to say, "you heard it here first".  When it doesn't go down like that, the failure to take over everything will be spun as a victory for Obama.  The election will then be used to declare a clear cut mandate for more of Obama's agenda.

It's all crap.  We are not on the verge of another 1776 with this years elections.  You will be getting more of the same bi-partisan pilfering of the public trough thru Gotterdammerung.

If I could I wouldn't reset the clock to 1776.  I'd reset it to 1740.  Our country needs 1740ff again.  Only if we get that, will we again be worthy of another 1776.


Equus Pallidus

If you get a chance drop by my friend Outlaw's place. Outlaw X.

Outlaw has cancer and between the treatments and the disease he could use your prayers.  I first met Outlaw when he was posting under a different name at Vox's.  I've enjoyed some good natured electronic sparing with him over the years.  He is one of the few Catholics I've ever met that knew why he believed what he believed.  He has earned my respect and friendship.

My biggest regret from our friendship is that I never had the time and/or money to make a trip down to Texas to help shoot hogs off his peanuts.  It seems like whenever I had time, I didn't have any extra cash and every time I had extra cash, the overtime and extra work made it impossible to get away, even for a few days.

Judging from his last post, Outlaw figures he is about ready to fork a bronc for his last ride.  I figure that we still got a prayer, so I'm going to pray it.  I'd appreciate it if ya'll would too.