Here we go again. So how come

Islamic clerics are not shouting "It's not us!" at the top of their lungs after the Boston bombing?

This is another act of Islamic terrorism in this country and while it is not on the hideous level of the 9-11 attacks, it is a pretty good, solid hit on us.

While I am loathe to jump in and blame all Muslims for this kind of thing it sure looks like hell and provides an awful lot of food for the haters out there that just have to hate. Truth is it can easily be made to look justified.

I have posted about this before and pointed out that not all Muslims are involved in this and likely the Islamic community is not involved because generally all most people are interested in is making a living and raising a couple of kids. They have better things to do than murder people.

Still, it makes one wonder when the Muslim community stays silent after one of them perpetrates a heinous act like that and the rest of them do not speak out against it.

Like it or not, even though Islam is the fastest growing faith in the country, we are still basically a Judeo Christian country and Muslims are often looked at with suspicion. Especially after 9-11 when the Muslim clerics were silent then, too.

If the Muslim community wants to shake the suspicion that is aimed at them they are as a community going to have to take responsibility and stand up and scream that they are not the problem and the problems are caused by an irreverent minority.

Until that happens the entire Islamic community will likely be viewed with suspicion.

I suppose there will likely be attacks on Muslims here and there and while the people that commit the attacks are ultimately responsible, they could avoid the issue before it happens by simply being outspoken.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&





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So it is the middle of the night

and I am up and I suppose I will be for several more hours.

My match yesterday was terrible mainly because I didn’t do my part. I really did poorly which means I likely still shoot better than most.

I have not had my service rifle out to a match in about 3 or 4 years and I found out that precision shooting especially with irons is a perishable skill. I also found out my eyesight has gotten a bit worse over time.

The ammo I was using was put together back in ’04 for crying out loud. I found I still have boxes of it leftover from the year I went nuts and shot about 5K rounds for score and about an additional 3 times that for practice.

I did manage to get a clearer sight picture by breathing deeply several times between shots. I could actually see the sight picture clear up as I forced more air into my system.

My rapids were actually halfway decent groups which surprised me pleasantly but they were not centered.

When all else fails, go back to the basics. I think I’ll break out the Garand and try that for a match or two. It is an old trick I used to use when things got bad. Once I get good with a Garand then everything seems to fall into place.

Anyway, I broke the ice and I am back to shooting again.

It felt pretty good and I found out that I had been missed by the guys.

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Pressed for time

I'm up a little early and already jamming. I took a few minutes to post today.

It's got the makings of a good day and I have to get started in a couple of minutes. I'm shooting a match today and likely will not do well because I feel pressed for time. I hate being harried but maybe when I get there I'll settle down.

Yesterday I started to teach my neighbor to handload and it was a series of screwups. I do not know why yet but I managed to get two-count 'em-2 cases stuck in the resizing die even though they were well lubed.

I'm guessing it was either soft brass or his chamber is bad because the last quarter inch I had to use slightly more pressure than I do on my own brass.

Anyway, I taught him the principles and then we ran out of time.

My employer sometimes offers me overtime and I rarely take it. The personnel guy keeps telling me to think of the money I'll make and I always answer back with "Think of all the time I'll lose."

All the money in the world won't buy time.

While poverty certainly sucks and people will do almost anything to avoid it there are times I'd rather be poor and have the time to do what I want.

It's really a trade-off. You have to have enough money to support yourself and making the money costs you time.

The way I look at it, when you work for someone he is simply buying your time and paying you at a rate that you are willing to sell your time for.

I'll write more on this subject later.




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Not much but it is a post

It's about the time I generally take my morning coffee out into the driveway and watch the neighborhood start to spool up.
I watch some of the mothers send their kids off to school and people shove off for work and with any luck the bitch several doors down sees me and frowns. Nothing like starting the day off knowing you have pissed someone off just because of who you are.
On the other hand, there are always several people that smile at me and wave as they go out to spin the wheels of industry. Countering the bitch that scowls at me, I will also have to be honest and add that there is nothing like having someone wave and smile you just because of who you are.
Every so often someone might stop for a few seconds and either ask me what's going on or tip me off about something or another but most people simply wave. Someone stops every few days. Generally it's the lady that works in a nearby shop.
She has a reputation of being a gossip but in truth she knows a lot of people and has kept me out of hot water a time or two by keeping me posted about things. Last time it was a police trap at a certain stop sign.
I guess this is life in the burbs and it ain't all that awfully bad. In fact it's pretty good. I have been blessed with pretty good neighbors. When I put up a 43 foot vertical antenna in my back yard a couple of them dropped what they were doing and helped me erect it.
In a lot of other neighborhoods they would be raising hell and calling it an eyesore. Anyway it pays dividends to be a best friend/worst enemy.
As I type I am enjoying a venison steak dinner and as I usually do, it's a meal of basics. Venison, cole slaw and a O'Doul's as I plan on going out tonight and do not drink and drive as hitting a bump and spilling one's beer is considered to be alcohol abuse. There's another steak in the reefer and it looks like it ought to go pretty good with a couple eggs in the morning.
Oddly enough, one of the biggest pains in this area is stop signs as half the people with corner lots and a stop sign in front insist that everyone passing through comes to a complete and total stop and then waits a couple of seconds.
The hippocracy of it is that the same guy that raises hell about HIS stop sign will blow through every sign he encounters.
I got stopped at one once for failure to stop completely even though I likely had and got a warning. I didn't argue because I figured out that the cop just wanted to close the complaint.
I seriously think the cop knew I wouldn't fight over a warning because all you do with one is throw it in the trash. That is unless you remember you forgot to buy bathroom tissue.
The suburbs generally have pretty good departments for a number of reasons. Money is arguable, working conditions are not. The burbs are less prone to drugs and violence and the work for the most part is less risky.
Still, a cop with several years in the city likely has to change as the smaller departments mean the cops are more prone to complaints from the local gentry.
Anyway, when the cop handed me the warning I mentioned that the guy that lived in the corner house had a bad habit of driving through stop signs in my neck of the woods. He surpressed a smirk and said nothing.
A few months later I heard that the complainer got nailed and nailed hard for running a stop sign and a few other add-ons. When I heard that I grinned.
Right now it is before breakfast as I have just left this open to chip away at and in a few I'll turn the rig on and check in with Jda and Jim on the Young Ladies system.
The coffeemaker seems to be running slow so I guess I'll have to get a gallon of white vinegar and run it through a few times to clean things inside of it.
And I have to go on a four hour errand sometime today.
One other thing is that I think that I have found and Elmer to get me up and running on the digital modes of ham radio. One of the guys in the club has offered to set me up. What's interesting about him is that he lives just a few blocks away.
Gotta get ready. Sun's up and I have to go.



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I am up a little late and managed to sleep through the cat's carrying-ons

It is another day and I am overlooking the back yard which is actually in pretty good shape after the winter. Most likely when the bushes grow back in a doe will use the same spot to give birth to another fawn and the cycle begins again.

I tore out a hedge the other day and have filled in the resultant holes and seeded with grass. The hedge never looked all that good and was a pain in the neck to keep trimmed. It was easy to yank. I just bought 10 feet of cable and four cable clamps and made a choker.I shackled the choker to a long tow strap and yanked them out with my pickup.

The flower beds have a nice layer of mushroom manure on them and in a couple of weeks after things settle I'll plant marigolds and a few zinnias and then the magic will occur. I'm thinking of planting from seeds this year again. I did that a couple of years ago and had tree sized marigolds.

I suppose it will be time to start mowing in a couple of weeks but I'm going to put that off until I have to as once you start things go a  little crazy. The lawn looks pretty good, too.

The kid up the street is $10 richer now as he did a good job of weeding for a couple of hours. He's at the age where he wants to do things but is not quite old enough. His dad encourages this and I suppose in a few years when I get older he'll be an occasional helper at the Piccolo spread.

His kid sister is now about five and she's my sweetie. Every time she sees me she wants a hug. She's really a character and watching her dad deal with her is a trip. She'll go far because she has a grateful sort of flexibility. If she want's ice cream for dessert and winds up with a popsicle she is smart enough to know she's better off than with nothing.

I took my morning coffee in the driveway and watched the woman diagonally across the street send her three off to school. The oldest girl is a pretty good athlete and a while ago I taught her to do a volley ball serve. She got good fast and is likely to become a real looker in a few years. She has a pair of kid brothers and they're a few years younger. The youngest is the most energetic kid I have ever seen. He's a handful.

Funny how things tend to replace things as time goes on. The little girl directly across the street must be pushing thirty now and I remember keeping an eye on her when she was growing up. She's been out of the house for year.

I generally like what I see when I look around the neighborhood. I dryly told one of the neighbors that it's been almost 5 years since I've had to chase anyone off of my lawn with an M-1. He chuckled.

Today I have a little touch-up to do in the yard and ought to be done easily by noon and then maybe I'll take my PRC 320 out and go hill topping. I think the water tower will be a good place as it isn't a weekend and there are likely no events planned for that area in the park.

I'm next to the home rig now and getting ready to check in with Jda as I do most mornings. Jim up in Halifax is weak but the band should come up soon. Maybe he just has to turn his beam.

Last night there was a ham club meeting and I attended which is rare as I generally wind up at sea when the meetings are scheduled. I brought my PRC 320 along because the last time I made a meeting someone asked me to. I did and was mobbed..

Most of the guys never used a military rig before as most hams gravitate toward newer technology. On Field Day they generally simply drag their rigs outside and run off of generators and batteries.Most ham gear is not designed for hard field use.

Military gear is also bare bones and has none of the meters and do-dads that hams seem to like. For most hams it is a different world.

One of the officers asked me to give a presentation and I will but I'll have to check my schedule.  It means I'll have to drag all of the accessories out which will be fun as there are a lot of them I seldom use. I suppose I can give a pretty good class.

The cat is being a cat and that's all I have to say for today.



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Raining today so I think I'll do a little DXing

The weather is breaking and the other day I was treated to the sight of a top heavy soccer mom in a tank top and wondered if the pair of jiggling Casbah melons under it were going to pop over the top of her tank top. They didn't but it was close a couple of times.

I got a lot of outside work done and if it does decide to rain heavy today and give the place a good soaking then things will be for the better. My flower beds are in good shape and the Beam bottle is full of iced tea for tomorrow when the weather is scheduled to be dry. There's still a little touch up work to be done.

Yesterday morning I had a medical test and did OK which means nothing because there are a lot of people that just drop dead two or three days after they passed their whatever test it was they had.

Yesterday in the Dr's office another patient, a woman was griping that she was seriously considering home schooling her kids because she said that people like Bill Ayers are writing curriculums for our schools.

Can't say as I blame her. Ayers is married to Bernadine Dohrn and both of these were sixties terrorists. Both of them do not belong in our educational system. They should be sitting in jail now and being allowed to meet the parole board for the first time.

I did a lot of listening but kept my mouth shut as I didn't want my blood pressure to go through the roof before my test.

Like I said, today it is raining and I think I'll chase a few DX nets on my HF rig. I am listening to the Southern Cross net as I type and the band isn't in very good shape now so I guess I'll go up to the YLISSB net and check in. After that I'll start spinning the dial and see what other activity is out there today.

Someone showed me a picture of Boston when they shut the city down and it looked like something out of 'Life after People'.

They shut down the entire city of Boston and I have very mixed feelings on this. It could be spun in two different ways.

The message that the entire city will stick together and stop what they are doing to run one single man down like a dog seems like it would send a very powerful message out to the criminal community.

On the other hand, the message it sends out to the terrorist community is a whole lot different. It tells them that they can shut down an entire city with just a couple of easy to make pressure cooker bombs.

Personally I take the 'Keep Calm and Carry On' attitude the Brits took during the Battle of Britain. You keep calm and go about your business and change nothing. You do not let them win.

I think the Bostonians should have simply gone about their business like nothing happened and not given the bastards the victory. 

Let's face it,the terrorists won another one here and likely there will be repercussions and we'll wind up losing freedoms here somehow. There will likely be searches or you'll have fill out useless paperwork to buy a pressure cooker or reloading supplies.

Of course, the media has to share responsibility in this one, too. They turned the apprehension of the kid brother into a media circus and as soon as it hit the airwaves half of Watertown and the surrounding communities descended on the scene like a pack of hungry dogs fighting for a piece of meat.

It got so bad there that I imagine the police had to use more of their assets for crowd control than they did on the perpetrator.

As soon as he got nailed would have been a perfect time for another   terrorist to let fly as the mob was pretty dense and were occupied with the business at hand. They were likely standing around running their mouths over this and that, oblivious to what was happening around them.

I would imagine that someone with a load of baby wipes and a large firecracker could have made a fortune at this point. (I posted this comment somewhere else and got slain for it.)

Likely ten years ago I would have been another busybody and gone out to check the scene out, but I have changed my attitude over time. I no longer have a pressing need to stand around in a crowd looking at whatever mess is out there to be seen.

If I can't contribute by going there I'll contribute more simply by staying the hell away and not getting in the way.

Still, all in all, I think that maybe Boston would be better off in the long run if they had taken a "Keep Calm and Carry On" attitude.

I might be wrong, but it makes sense to me.

The radio next to me just went off and I think I'll check in with Jda and the YL net and then see if I can get an African on 15 meters when the net opens there.



















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Vice President Biden WAS right. You DO need a double barreled shotgun.

You throw a couple of blasts off of the balcony and when the thug hears both barrels he knows you have an empty shotgun so he charges right on in.

Then you pick up your deadly assault rifle with a 30 round banana clip on it and waste him as he charges through the door.

Then again, if you are not lucky than Fish and Game will nail you for hunting over bait.






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Yesterday I wrote about the movie 'Best Years of our Lives'

 and spoke about my father's readjustment.

Mine was considerably different. I had seen it coming since the day I enlisted. I was doing one hitch and getting out. I had never seriously considered making a career out of it.

For the last year I had seved every nickel I could and took no leave. I cashed in 60 days leave when I was discharged and I had a plan.

I moved into a tipi a couple of days after I got out and lived there for my first year, living both off of my savings and my GI bill as I was commuting to school three days a week. I did well fairly well in school, and there really wasn't much of a readjustment. It was simply just another change of employment when you got down to it.


Life in the tipi was pretty good and in generally pretty quiet with the exception of a couple of incidents.

The big adjustment was moving back to civilization even though I was in civilization several days a week.

The first place I moved into was a condemned house the owner was letting people stay in for a few bucks. There were about six or seven guys living there, mostly recently discharged GIs.

I moved in and slept on a homemade bed in what used to be a dining room. The entire place was a zoo and after a few days of that I decided that the place was too much for me and likely a bust waiting to happen.

Most of the guys living there were potheads or into psychedelics. Saturday breakfast for some of these guys consisted of three beers, two hits of mescaline and a joint.

Only one of these guys had any interest in making things better for themselves. I found that one out early on.

There were three TVs there, two were stacked on top of each other. The top set had a working picture but no audio. The botton one had audio but no picture. You turned them both on and if you were smart enough to have them both on the same channel it was basically operable.

If both TVs were not on the same channel sometimes things got interesting. I sat there one evening and watched my roomates watch 'Sands of Iwo Jima' with a 'Wizard of Oz' sound track once. They were too toasted on psyhcedelics to even notice.

The third TV was in good shape. It had a blown tube. I had done allof the work to get it going again and the tube was on top of it. Allthey had to do to have a good TV was to plug the tube in and put the back on again. Four screws and a tube.

I had done all the work and paid for thetube but had grown disgusted. They could do the rest but were too lazy to.

I immediately called a friend and ditched my firearms with him except for a shotgun that I hid in the trunk of my Volkswagen beetle.

I figured that I'd find another place to live and had one arranged in short order.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I arrived home after shooting skeet in an old sand and gravel pit. As usual, four or five of the guys were sitting there watching the tube. There was a John Wayne western on and for once the soundtrack actually matched the pucture.

The guys were toasted and I sat on the couch watching the movie and cleaning my shotgun. I was disgusted with what I saw and as I was cleaning the shotgun I realized that behind the outside wall that was behind the TV(s) was nothing more than a cliff face. It was actually a safe place to shoot when you thought about it.

Quietly I took a pair of Marlboro butts out of the ash tray, tore off the filters and screwed them into my ears and waitedand watched the movie.

When someone was trying to sneak up on the Duke I slipped a pair of rounds into the shotgun and just as the bad guy was getting ready to shoot the Duke I let fly with both barrels at the TV.

The picture tube, of course, imploded. Glass flew around and everyone's ears were ringing. The guys were agape and in shock and it was almost a full minute before it sunk in as to what had happened. Their heads were reeling with a mixture of just about every brain toasting psychedelic drug available on the streets of the 70s.

"Wow, man! Piccolo just saved John Wayne!" said a brain fried voice.

That was the last straw.I was not going to live around brain dead anymore. I simply got up and left. I think I went to Manitou Springs and found some broad I knew and shacked up with her for a couple of days and then returned and gathered my stuff and left.

I then moved into the third bedroom of a three bedroom apartment that I shared with a couple of college girls in their senior year. It was OK at first, they did my laundry and I kept their Volkswagens running but things got wierd after a while so I left. Leave it at that when I say things got wierd.

From there I shared a place with another recently discharged GI that was going to school on his GI bill. We were in different social circles so we never even saw each other and I wound up living there until I moved to Alaska.

I suppose I consider this last place the place where I managed to merge back into civilization but that is arguable as my life in Alaska proved to be anything but civilized but that's another story.



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The other night I watched the movie 'The Best Years of our Lives'.

Great movie.

Dana Andrew's character reminds me of my father. He was another kid with a few brains and a high school diploma that they ran through a program, pinned a bar on his collar and put him into some damned expensive machines. They paid him pretty good money, too.

Dana Andrews played a bombardier that had been a captain and went through the same thing my dad did in a way.
The war was over and they dumped a lot of these guys into a pretty competitive labor market. Some of them had jobs to go home to, some didn't.

Dad had been a musician in high school and played calrinet and saxaphone. He was pretty good, actually. GI Joe had just gotten home with a little mustering out pay and was looking for a good time so dad played in a band for a while after he was discharged.

However, Dad was single when he got out so he didn't have relationship adjustment problems to deal with.

The First Sergeant had been married for quite some time before he was drafted and seemed to slip back into his routine a lot easier than the other two.

While the sailor that had lost his hands had to get over the loss of his hands he had a girl to come home to and pretty much knew he'd wind up as a working class guy eventually.

I wonder in a way if the guys that had been promoted ahead of their times with little education to fall back on didn't had a disappointment that lasted them for decades

You put a kid in a uniform and put a bar on his collar and give him both the responsibility, the pay and prestige for a couple of years and then discharge him and it's quite an adjustment.

In one of the dopey Rambo movies, Rambo griped that as a soldier he could run a million dollar piece of machinery but on the outside he couldn't get a job parking cars.

I think that down inside he never got over it because during the Cuban missile crisis he was scared. He was under 40 and looking at what very well could have become another World War.

Several years later he told me about this. He told me that he was terrified of being drafted back into the army as a private. He knew there were no more B-29s left to fly and thought he was too old to retrain.

I pointed out that he had gotten his degree in '57 and it was likely that he'd be recommissioned and given a job in logistics.

His degree was sitting in a drawer and he had never mentioned it to me. He was somewhat surprised I knew about it and I'd bet he'd forgotten about it as he was feeding 5 kids as a mechanic.

He blushed for a minute. "I'd forgotten about that," The look on his face told me he felt foolish.

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Update on the match

which was a bust of sorts but in other ways it was great.

I arrived with a .22 sighted in for 50 yards and I guess I figured my holdover OK. Still, it was cold and we actually had light snow flurries which is rare. I was unprepared for that as I had figured it would warm up. It didn't.

I couldn't get things to settle down and shot poorly to the point that I didn't even bother to shoot the second string.

Still, when you return to something like that you can't go with great expectations, especially if you are talking about offhand shooting. It's like Morse code, it is a perishable skill.

While I was pleased at my shooting at Quantico last month I was shooting a different match there and could dig in nicely and not have to fight the shakes as Quantico was a prone match.

Anyway, I met a couple of new shooters and it's interesting to note that two of the newbies are women. These two were not the women I met a while back that were discussing infantry tactics. One was another shooter's SO shooting with her hubby and the other was a woman that shoots regular there now.

During the time between strings the  guys asked me where I had been and were glad to see me show up. They said they missed my leopard skin mat, pink AR and smart-assed attitude.

Next weekend there's a service rifle match and we'll see what happens then. If the weather is halfway decent and I get an hour during the week to tune up the service rifle I ought to do OK.





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Offhand match today. Running fast early

Running fast as I have an offhand match today.

It's supposed to be 40 rounds, any rifle any sight and the first time I have shot this one as it is a fairly new event at the club.

I had dropped out of things for a while and I returned to find that there is a match scheduled for every weekend. There is a 40 round offhand match that I think I will  enter with a .22.

There is also a 40 shot slow fire at 200 yards which is any rifle any sight and there are 2 service rifle matches.

Of course, I'll use a service rifle for the service rifle matches but for the offhand I'll use a .22 and for the slow fire I think I'll use an M40 and shoot that one off of my belly and out of competition.

Anyway, I'm off to shoot today.



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This one says it all.

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Yesterday I had an interesting dealing with a whiner.

Right now my project is to yank up a hedgerow which I am doing with a wire choker, a tow strap and a pickup. It's going along fast as I can hook them up and give them a quick yank.

I had to take a break and head down to the supermarket and on the way I saw someone trying to dig up a bush. I stopped and watched for a second. He looked up and grumbled about what a pain in the neck it was to dig up the bush. I asked him what it was worth to have it removed and he told me he'd give me fifty bucks then and there if I could remove it.

I reached into the back of the pickup and grabbed the choker and tow strap and inside of three minutes it was up and out of the ground. "That'll be fifty bucks," I said.

"I could have done that," he protested.

"Why didn't you?" I shot back.

I collected my $50. It was like pulling teeth. Then went on my way.

Truth is I would have done this job for free if the guy had been a decent person but I knew him as being a neighborhood pain in the neck so I simply made a few bucks on the deal.

Best friend, worst enemy.



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Yesterday I was busy as a bee

and didn't find out that the background check law didn't pass the Senate until later in the evening.

I can say that I am overjoyed that it didn't because it likely means the rest of the gun legislation won't pass.

Not one bit of this legislation will make us any safer. It will deprive us of our rights and actually make us LESS safe.

Of course I suppose I'll have to listen to the usual crowd of whiners on Facebook.

In other news, I got a good night's sleep and am getting ready for a late breakfast. The cat is being his usual pain in the ass and I have already gotten a couple of my chores out of the way.

I snagged a 1.75 liter bottle of Jim Beam and have re bottled it into about 17 or 18 of the little 100 ml bottles I keep for either bribes or guests. Now I have a fresh 1.75 liter bottle for iced tea when I garden. The repacks will be served to visitors and the factory sealed bottles will be saved for little tips and bribes to people like the trash guys or anyone else that I deem fit. The kitchen smells like a moonshine distillery now and I suppose it will for a few hours. Actually it is not objectionable.

When I stopped off for a couple of groceries last evening I met the guy that fixed my furnace. Interesting man. When the company  he was working for cratered he simply took another job and invested in himself via the Community College route. He learned the HVAC trade and as soon as he could he got a job in that business. He reports that he is doing about as well as he used to and feels he has more job security.

He says his kids are going to go to college AND leaarn a useful trade to fall back on.

The kid at the register asked me how I was doing and I replied, "Not worth a $hit, but thank you very much for asking. It shows that your mother raised you with a few manners and that is quite refreshing in this day and age."

The guy behind me grinned broadly, looked at me and said, "You got that one right."








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One of the things I shook my head over

 is when I heard that the mayor of Boston wasn't going to let Chik-Fil-A or whatever the damned place is called set up shop in Boston.

Apparently he doesn't like their stance on gays.

So? Let them in anyway. They will bring in a few more jobs and if people don't like them they don't have to eat there.

I've never eaten in one and eating in one is not on my immediate list of things to do but then again I suppose if I get hungry enough near one I might check it out.

I've watched a few states over the past four months run a lot of businesses out of their states with gun control laws. Colt is leaving Hartford and so are a few others.

Magpul and a few others are leaving Colorado and Beretta and Benelli are likely leaving Maryland.

When you add all of the companies that are moving out there is a LOT of money involved. It's not just the companies, either. It's the support and the other little parasitic businesses that rely on the company.

The very people that voted for the gun laws that have chased these businesses out are likely the same dumbasses that will hear that their Uncle Louie is out of a job because of it. They will stand there wide-eyed and agape and after a few flies land in their mouths they'll spit them out by saying something stupid.

"But...but...THAT'S NOT FAIR!!"

What's not fair about it is that they are now facing the law of unintended consequences and it's their turn to feel stupid. They have just $hit and fallen back in it and are angry that now they have to clean their own feces off of themselves.

They seem to have forgotten that they have created a lousy atmosphere for businesses and that if the business wants to make any money they have to leave and go somewhere else that will allow them to.

In reality they have not created the safety they were looking forward to. They have eliminated jobs, added to the unemployment roster, increased poverty and with poverty comes the inevitable increase in crime.

As for the firearms they have outlawed they haven't done themselves any favors because criminals don't obey laws in the first place. If they did we would not have any crime to begin with.

In short these states have done nothing whatsoever to make themselves any safer and have done quite a bit to make themselves poorer.

In fact they are likely to become a lot less safe.

Yet I see stupidity in high places everywhere I turn.

Not allowing that dopey Chik-Fil-A or whatever it is to open in Boston is just another example of lousy business sense on the part of the powers that be.

You voted for these people that hinder business, so save me your laminations. Take yourself into the darkness and moan, wail and gnash your teeth quietly so I don't have to hear it.

You already have made my ears sore when you whined about their moving not being fair.





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Shortly after I watched the guys gas the local strip club

Shortly after I watched the guys gas the local strip club downtown I was approached by my Battery Commander that had just conducted an inventory. He explained to me that there were a lot of property shortages and that he wanted to figure out a way to cover for this.

At this time I was running the arms room which is part of supply. I had seen what went on in supply so I sort of understood how to turn stuff in to get it off the books. If we could get our hands on the stuff the supply sergeant could turn it in.

A couple of months earlier I had been sent to a brief couple of day course on sling loading helicopters. Strangely enough the course was given by a trio of Marines and one of the sergeants that should have known better called them a bunch of jarheads within earshot.

Needless to say, chaos resulted and I blew up with both the sergeant and the wronged Marines. I told them that I hadn't come to get involved in petty interservice spats but to learn something. 

What was interesting is that I was an 'acting jack' at the time and the sergeant pointed out he wasn't going to listen to an AJ.  I pointed out that he'd listen to me after I put a few toothmarks on his throat. He settled down quickly. He remembered his friend, Popski, whom I  had put the fear of God into several months before.

I had been on CQ duty and Popski came in plastered and tried to start a fight with me. He slipped and I dove down on him and started biting him in the throat. Not enough to break any skin and have to have myself checked for rabies, but enough so tooth marks showed on his throat for a few days.

It put the fear of God into him and established my place on the pecking order. Truth is, Popski could have cleaned my clock if he wasn't so falling down drunk, but nobody seemed to think of that. For a while they called me 'Mad Dog'.

Class resumed and I learned a few things and still use the skills as a rigger every once in a while.

After the day long class, the Gunny offered to buy me a beer. He wanted to know about my reference to putting toothmareks on the sergeant's throat. I told him the unvarnished truth and he grinned. He said that perception of being a badass is a big part of the game.

The skipper had been through the ranks, enlisting as a private before getting Warranted as a helicopter pilot and finally commisssioning as an artillery officer.

Although he had enough hours to automatically receive flight pay he occasionally took one up to stay current.

Most of the missing property was stuff like desks and chairs and for some reason the supply sergeant was having no luck trading stuff to get them. The furniture was actually flimsy junk and fairly light. 

We didn't care what shape the stuff was in as we were simply going to turn it in to get it off of the property books.

There was a mechanism in place to get stuff off of the books but it involved an awful lot of paperwork and sometimes a hearing. While I suppose the skipper could have simply had Supply Daddy do the paperwork, hearings of any sort are to be avoided at all costs. 

I asked the skipper if he had any plans to make any night helicopter flights and he looked up at with interest yet said nothing. I said I'd get back with him.

I went back to supply and asked the supply sergeant if he  could turn in a broken chair and he looked at me and asked me why I wanted to do that and I told him I wanted to case the property disposal lot.

Ten minutes later I was in a jeep headed there and an hour and a half I returned with a general layout. A causal comment to a WAC let me know the lot was unguarded. I also looked very carefully for phone poles and things that could chew up a rotor balde and destroy a chopper.

I got back to the battery late for formation and went straight into the First Sergeant's office expecting to have to explain why I missed formation.  As soon as I stuck my face into the orderly room Top looked up and nodded. He knew I was out on business.

The skipper was in and I dropped in on him and suggested that maybe if I sneaked into the property disposal lot and hooked a bunch of desks and chairs together he could lift them with a chopper.

The lot was fairly secluded and unguarded. We'd just scoop the stuff up, haul it into the woods somewhere and haul it back to the battery and turn it in piecemeal.

He said I was crazy. I shrugged and told him that I thought it was bold enough to get away with. I also gave him a full report on possible obstacles in the area. I drew them out carefully. He told me I was nuts and had watched too much TV.

Two days later he called me in and asked me how I would pull such a stunt off. I told him to have a duece n' half waiting in the woods and simply fly over the property yard, drop down, let me hook the stuff onto the sling hook and go straight up and haul the stuff off.

He could lower the chopper near the truck, release the sling and continue his flight. How he got the OK to fly around over  post was on him.

The next day he told me I had to add a couple of chairs to the list. I said nothing but figured out he had made a deal with someone at Butts Field.

We scheduled the foray for when our battery was supposed to be guarding the motor pool because we knew we could get past the guard. Supply Daddy would just show him a dispatch and we'd drive off with a duece n' half unquestioned.

On the evening of the foray I got dropped off near the disposal yard by the supply daddy and slipped into the darkness dragging a duffel bag with rope in it. I quietly approached the side and started looking for a way in. I found more than I was expecting.

Not only was there a hole big enough to drive a jeep through but there was a pile of desks, chairs and bunks outside the fence. I went through the pile quickly and sorted it out and threaded my rope through all of the stuff we needed.

I was happy not to have needed my fencing tool to cut through the chain mail. The fencing tool is pretty handy. Anyone that's ever driven through cattle country and seen a roll of barbed wire has lost ten of them.

Then I went inside the yard and grabbed a couple of chairs that we needed. On the ground I saw something and snagged it. I to this day don't know how it got there but I snagged a bayonet and sheath still in the wrapper!

Bayonets were damned hard to come by. In my arms room they were kept in a footlocker that not only was padlocked but banded shut with a banding machine. I made damned good and sure I put it in the duffel bag out of sight of Supply Daddy who would take it from me.

The B Battery armorer said he was short one and I knew that he would cheerfully swap his unaccounted for M-60 spare barrel kit of it. I wasn't short a spare barrel kit but I wanted an extra.

I laid on my back for about an hour watching the stars and then heard the whomp-whomp of an approaching Huey and flashed a signal  with a flashlight. I was rewarded with a quick shot of landing lights.

In an instant the bird dropped to the deck and I quickly realized I was too close to the fence and the blades might smack it. I bent on my spare 100 feet of rope onto the harness and ran out to a safer place while holding the end.

I bent a quick bowline into the end of the rope and signaled the chopper down until the skids were about three feet off of the deck. Then I snaked under the bird and slipped the bowline onto the hook, jumped on the skid and got yanked into the chopper.

I gave the word to the skipper to climb up about 25 feet and then move over to the center of the pile and go straight up as I wanted to avoid having the load swing. As soon as we were over the pile we went straight up like a homesick angel.

He wasn't too pleased that I had put an extra 100 feet of line on the load but I guess he realized I had to. Straight up we went and as soon as the crew chief gave the OK we headed off to the place the duece n' half was parked.

Supply Daddy was there and flashed a light and we just dropped straight down and when the stuff was piled up the skipped opened the hook, and the slack harness fell.

I realized from the way he had skyed up that he was a hotshot pilot, but when he gently lowered the ropeful of stuff I knew he was truly a skilled crastsman.

About 100 feet away from there he did a touch and go and I bailed. When I hopped off I went too fast and landed on my ass, right on top of one of those damned cactus plants the post teemed with. He was gone before I stopped cussing.

Then I helped Supply Daddy load the truck. I had to remind him that I didn't care if he was a Staff Sergeant and outranked me or not. He was damned well going to help. He was a lazy bastard.

It was a few minutes after we got the stuff loaded that we backed up to the S&A building and stuffed all of the crap into the supply room. We'd go through the stuff the following day. 

The next day we went through the stuff and most of it was pretty busted up but that was OK because we were turning it in as damaged anyway. Before I went into help out I had Doc dug the rest of the cactus spines out of my ass. He wanted to send me to the dispensary. When I told him I was going to have Top intervene he figured something was going on and relented.

Supply Daddy broke the pile into three lots and turned the stuff in in three seperate turn-ins about a week apart.

About a week or so later I wanted some time off. I wanted to explore the western part of the country and took a week's leave. Top kind of put the fix in on that one and I got to simply take five days off and run it with a weekend on both ends. I explored western Colorado, parts of Utah and Arizona. I saw the Grand Canyon. I also got as far as Las Vegas and drove up and down the strip.

This meant I got nine days off for the price of five, yet when my leave and earnings statement came in it showed no change in leave balance. I said nothing and assumed it was a freebie.

I never asked the skipper any details on how he fixed things on the flight manifest or how he got the OK to fly over the main part of the post but I'll bet he called in a lot of favors for that one. I seldom saw choppers over the main part of the post and figured it was sort of restricted airspace.

Later when we took another inventory we wound up having a couple of extras here and there but we had no shortages.




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Attributed to Foxworthy but I'm not sure

I got this in an email and it has supposidly been attributed to Jeff Foxworthy. Anyway, I like it so I will post it here. If Jeff didn't say this, I'm sorry. Then again if he didn't say it he probably should have.

　

Channeling Jeff Foxworthy

If you can get arrested for hunting or fishing without a license,
but not for being in the country illegally — you might live in a
nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If you have to get your parents’ permission to go on a field trip
or take an aspirin in school, but not to get an abortion — you
might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If you have to show identification to board an airplane, cash a
check, buy liquor, or check out a library book, but not to vote
who runs the government — you might live in a nation founded
by geniuses but run by idiots.

If the government wants to ban stable, law-abiding citizens from
owning gun magazines with more than ten rounds, but gives
twenty F-16 fighter jets to the crazy new leaders in Egypt — you
might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If, in the nation’s largest city, you can buy two 16-ounce sodas,
but not a 24-ounce soda because 24-ounces of a sugary drink
might make you fat — you might live in a nation founded by
geniuses but run by idiots.

If an 80-year-old woman or a three-year-old girl confined to a
wheelchair can be strip-searched by the TSA, but a woman in
a hijab is only subject to having her neck and head searched
— you might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If your government believes that the best way to eradicate trillions
of dollars of debt is to spend trillions more — you might live in a
nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If a seven-year-old boy can be thrown out of school for saying his
teacher is "cute," but hosting a sexual exploration or diversity class
in grade school is perfectly acceptable — you might live in a nation
founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If children are forcibly removed from parents who discipline them
with spankings, while children of addicts are left in filth- and drug-infested
"homes" — you might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If hard work and success are met with higher taxes and more
government intrusion, while not working is rewarded with EBT cards,
WIC checks, Medicaid, subsidized housing, and free cell phones
— you might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If the government’s plan for getting people back to work is to provide
incentives for not working through 99 weeks of unemployment checks,
without any requirement to prove they sought, but couldn’t find, work
— you might live in a nation founded by geniuses but run by idiots.

If you pay your mortgage faithfully, denying yourself the newest big
screen TV, while your neighbor buys iPhones, wall-sized plasma do-it-all
TV’s and new cars, and the government forgives his debt when he
defaults on his mortgage — you might live in a nation founded by geniuses
but run by idiots.

If being stripped of the ability to defend yourself makes you more "safe"
according to the government — you might live in a nation founded by
geniuses but run by idiots.


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I think I have said enough in the political end of things and feel a need to tell a story about an earlier part of a very checkered career.

Let's go back to the time I was in the army and a couple of CS and smoke grenades turned up missing during a field problem. What kept the entire battery from being turned upside down was that it was the fact that they thieves had stolen the actual grenades themselves and had left the packing canisters.

This made it easy to cover for them. Back then proof of use was simply the empty canister with a pin in it. I was running the arms room at the time and of course I had a quart jar full of grenade pins that I would generally pass out to those that wanted them to use as key rings.

I just dropped a pin apiece into the half-dozen canisters and we turned them in. Quick fix.

Still, there was an air of concern over this not so much because of the smoke grenades but because of the CS grenades. While the Battery Commander wasn't worried, he was mildly concerned because stuff like that had a habit of showing up where it wasn't welcome.

The BC had a quiet word with me and asked me to keep my ears open and see what I could find out through Rumor Control. I agreed to tell him what I heard but not name any conspirators if I heard anything. He agreed that it was fair enough that way.

Payday was a couple of days away and I heard that a couple of guys were pretty miffed about the local strip club because I guess the strippers who also doubled as cocktail waiteresses were stealing money from the guys.

I guess they were using the wet the bottom of the tray trick to lift bills off the table and a few other tricks. Some of the guys wanted a little payback.

I told the BC that he might cruise Nevada Ave on payday night and look around, especially in the neighborhood of West Colorado Ave, then known as GI corner. It was an area of bars a strip club and a lot of hookers on the streets, which is standard fare in any GI town.

He surprised me whan he said, "Let's check it out. I'll pick you up at about 2000 on payday night. I'll even buy you a beer. Wear a big hat to cover up with."

He was good to his word and showed up along with his wife and Lieutenant Wagner, the XO. This was very unusual because officers and enlisted men generally do not do social things of any kind together.

In the apartment complex I was living in my platoon leader, Lieutenant Wolfe lived in another unit and from time to time we would run into run into each other. In front of civvies I would occasionally address him as Mister Wolfe and he'd call me Pic. Around the complex we never saluted, and my calling him 'Mister' seemed to work.

Occasionally out of earshot of anyone else I would call the BC 'Skipper'. When he asked him why I used a naval term I told him I had grown up near a Coast Guard facility and it was a term of respect. He nodded and in private I continued to do this.

That night I called the skipper 'Skipper', and addressed the XO by rank and called the skipper's wife by her first name, Sally.

We quietly slipped into a parking spot o GI corner and watched a certain bar known for its fine selection of GI town whores and watched GIs wander in and out.

Sally reached into a small ice box and handed me a whisky sour in a can. It was pretty good. I wish they still made them, actually but have not seen one in years. She also passed on over to the XO.

"There's Jiminez, Perry and Globie," said the XO.

"I wonder if they're going to pick up a prostitute," said Sally.

"Maybe Jiminez," I said. "But Perry and Globie won't. They'll just head across the street to the strip club after a couple of beers."

"Hey," said the XO. "Looks like a couple more."

The skipper chuckled, then stopped. "Look at their waists. I wonder what they have under their shirts? Bet we've found our culprits in the case of the missing grenades."

"Give them about 15 minutes and I'll bet all five of them head over the strip club. Some of the guys are pissed off about getting ripped off there," I said.

We were looking at the activity from across the street and things changed suddenly because on our side of the street we saw Captain Bridger, the Charlie Battery BC. He was known for going downtown on payday night and watching the antics of his flock and keeping an eye out for them.

He had been former enlisted and hadn't forgotten his past. Because of the fact that he went downtown periodically a lot of Charlie Battery NCOs did, too. As a result Charlie Battery generally had fewer disciplinary problems.

He also had a pretty good reputation of being able to handle himself on the streets, too as someone had tried unsuccessfully to rob him one night. He was a respected officer and was known for his dry wit.

Captain Bridger was walking past a streetwalker next to our front fender who offered her services. Instead of simply saying no, he decided to tease her a bit. I was in the rear seat next to the curb behind Sally and the pair of us rolled down our windows because we wanted to hear what was going on.

"You a cop," accused the hooker. "If you ain't a cop, wrap a twenny dollar bill round your dick and shake it at me!"

"Only got a five," said Bridger.

"If you ain't no cop then shake you dick at me." she said.

So Bridger unzipped and obliged her. She tried to grab his manhood but he was too quick.

I didn't stick my head out the window but I said loud enough to be heard, "Too bad you didn't have roller skates on, Sir. You could have been a pull toy!."

With that the skipper dropped the car into gear and we tore off, peeling off about 1000 miles worth of rubber off the tires. He had a hard time driving as there were tears in his eyes but we made it OK.

After the laughter died down the XO looked at me and told me that I should get an Article 15 for disrespect.

"Not really," said the skipper. "He used proper military courtesy. He said 'Sir'. Besides it WAS pretty goddam funny! A pull toy!" 

Sally couldn't move she was laughing so hard. Tears ran down her face as she laughed uncontrollably. 

Then we all laughed again for a while as we went around the block and parked in the strip club lot and waited. The skipper looked at me.

"I wonder if Captain Bridger recognized us," he said.

"I doubt he recognized you or the lieutenant but he likely recognized me. I doubt he'll say anything, though because if he did it would fall back on him." I answered.

"I suppose you're right," he said.

Sure enough the five of them showed up as a group in the lot and we watched them split up and go into the club. Jiminez went in alone and the rest split up into twos and entered.

"Think we ought to sneak in and watch?" asked Sally.

"I think we ought to stay the hell out. It's going to get nasty and panicky in there," said the XO.

"Quick! Skipper! Back it up and back it in that spot!" I snapped, pointing. "We'll get a better view there."

He did in pretty quick time before asking me why, which I thought unusual although I guess it meant he trusted me.

"Now we can see the main entrance and the back door," I said. "We're also out of the way of the fire department for when they get called."

I pointed out the likely routes of escape, the front door, the side fire door and the men's room window. "I figure we'll get a ringside seat here," I said.

It wasn't long before chaos erupted inside and the music stopped and there were screams. Almost instantly we saw the first two guys out of either door were our guys. The minute they got outside they took positions on either side of the door and pulled out a pair of scissors.

"What are they doing?" asked the XO.

"Wait," said the skipper. 

Sure enough as people streamed out the door the guys let them pass but when one of the dancers passed by the two of them would hook their index fingers in their G-string or the back of their top and snip it, leaving the hapless girl stark raving naked in the street.

We sat there watching the chaos in tears as everyone stumbled out with their eyes watering. The sight of naked women screeching and running off into the darkness wearing only a pair of stripper shoes was hysterical.

Then we saw the two by the fire door pick up a bag of some sort. Out of the bag they pulled out gloves and gas masks and entered the building.

"They going to rob the register?" asked the XO.

"Probably going in to get the residue. They likely don't want the police to get the lot numbers off of the grenades," I said. "That's what I'd do."

The two of them came flying out the back door just as the police arrived at the front door. They peeled off their masks and gloves, threw them into the bag and took off down an alley.

"Gas masks, Pic." said the skipper. "I want you to inventory them tomorrow morning."

"Sir, they were all there and the room is kept locked. Right now gas masks are running about two bucks apiece at Surplus City," I answered.

"Oh, OK," he replied.

We saw that the three of our guys in the front of the joint had vanished and a minute later we saw a car drive by and stop a little up the street. Two guys got in with a bag but we couldn't recognize them from the distance,but the car was unmistakable. It was Perry's. The front fender was still in primer. There were also three guys in the front.

"Wanna swing by the Las Vegas Cinema and see who's watching 'Deep Throat'?" asked the skipper. 

We laughed. It was a running joke too just about every GI as the cinema had been running the movie 24/7 for almost two years. It was a double feature with 'The Devil in Miss Jones'.

"I'll take you back," said the skipper.

"I've got some beer, a bottle of scotch and some gin and tonic at home if you want a taste," I offered.

Sally spoke up and said it sounded like a good offer and the four of us stopped at my place for a taste and took it outside into the courtyard.

We chatted briefly. He was curious to see if I had any interest in an army career and maybe a shot at what today they call a green to gold program. I wasn't. I wanted to do other things.

Then the skipper looked at me. "Five of our guys and me have their asses in your hands," he said. "If anyone ever knows I witnessed what went on tonight and did nothing there would be hell to pay."

I looked back at him, "If word got out I was out with the BC and the XO downtown I'd be called a kiss ass and be blackballed," I answered.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said.

They left and I never said a word about this incident until twenty-five years later.

Twenty-five years later I found my old platoon leader when his name came up in a small news article in a trade publication. He's a big shot now and I called him up. When the secretary asked who was calling I said Sp/5 Piccolo and he answered the phone immediately. He and I chatted and he told me how to get in touch with my old BC.

I called and he recognized my voice immediately and we chatted. I asked him about that night and asked why he invited a first hitch acting sergeant to go along. He simply told me that he felt I would have a little better feel for the guys because I was one of them. I could pick up on a few details for them.

He also was sniffing me out as a possible green to gold candidate but after that evening he realized I wasn't interested. 





One of these nights I'll tell you the story of how I helped the skipper get a bunch of missing property off of the books with the help of a helicopter in the middle of the night.

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I saw today where the stuffy old men at GOP headquarters

 voted to keep the stance against gay marriage on the party platform.

More stupidity in high places.

As usual, they are doing every single thing possible to snatch defeat out of the firm jaws of victory. Leadership of the GOP is now left to a bunch of fat, rich white men that do not have a clue as to what is going on in the world. The GOP has gone progressively down the tubes since they decided to let the Christian Coalition write their platform for them.

Truth is that nobody likes being told what to do by the moral police and that's plain and simple. What two (or three or ten) consenting adults do behind closed doors is nobody's business. I couldn't care less what a couple of gays do behind closed doors. It is simply none of my business.

Nobody likes listening to some stuffy preacher type telling people they are headed to hell if they don't conform to their standards. As for me I have friends in both places.

The GOP generally gets my vote because of two reasons and only two reasons. I am financially conservative and I support the Right to Keep and Bear Arms.

While I don't like the way the GOP spends a lot more money than they need on defense contractors I would far rather have it go there than to the Free $hit Army because that is what is dragging us down.

Democracies only last about 250 years and what kills them is people discover that they can vote themselves money out of the treasury. We're seeing that now and we're broke.

Right now the GOP is doing a first-class job of doing what they do best and alienating valuable voters by trying to legislate morality.

If you look at gays in general they are generally more educated and financially successful than their heterosexual counterparts. Part of this is they do not have the expenses incurred with raising kids.

Because of this you generally find fewer gays on welfare and other government aid. I'm reasonably sure they don't like paying for the Free $hit Army, either. In short, the gay community by nature is fairly conservative.

Yet they vote for liberal candidates because liberals have greeted them with open arms. The liberals have gotten them what they want.

Another group the GOP seems to have alienated is Hispanics and they are a pretty sizable voting bloc.

Another thing thay have not done is throw Rick Santorum out on his sorry moonbat ass. I have never in my entire life seen a person like him before. He went from being the senator I voted for and supported to a person that very well could have had the presidency by sticking his head up his ass and joining the Christian coalition and advocating letting the Moral Police of the GOP run the show.

In a way it was sad to watch a person that had some pretty good financial ideas that would have helped get us out of this quagmire we're in run his mouth about something as stupid and piddly as gay rights and throw it down the crapper.

He went from heavyweight contender of the world straight down the tubes to Chief Moonbat of the GOP in just a couple of weeks. The man should be carefully used as a study on what is known to sailors as 'The Reverse Midas Touch' meaning everything he touched turned into warm, steaming $hit.

The leadership of the GOP doesn't seem to get it. Not a whole lot of people care about having morality legislated. They don't care about who is doing what to who behind closed doors.

Had the GOP come out and supported the gay community by simply offering them civil unions they would have had a lot of support from not only gays but a lot of straights, too.

Instead they passed the Defense of Marriage Act which is a joke anyway. Personally I think the government should get out of the marriage business entirely and permit civil unions between any two people that want one and leave it at that.

If you want to get married, go see the preacher.

Historically the government hasn't been in the marriage business all that long. When you think of it, all being married is good for is getting a few tax breaks. Look at Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn. They have been a unit for decades and neither of them has considered marriage. Truth is it is nobody's business.

As far as civil unions go, all of us, no matter of what our sexuaity is have a right to pass on our estates, whatever on  to some significant other without government interference.

The significant other doesn't necessarily have to be a sex partner, either. I had a maternal aunt that was an old maid schoolteacher that likely never married because she was too much of a pain in the ass. She had a twin brother and they lived in a duplex together but seperately.(Same duplex, different units) I suppose the two of them should have had a civil union because when the first one of them passed on and left his stuff to her the state came in and robbed her for a part of it. That's bull$hit.

Anyway, back to the GOP and the stuffy old rich white men that have run it for decades.

There are a number of black conservatives out there that have done well and I never see the leadership reaching out to them.

Yet historically it was the Democrats that have not been very good to the black community. The first gun control laws in the country were passed to keep recently freed black slaves from getting guns to defend themselves. A lot of the early civil rights legislation was contested bitterly by the blue dog democrats.

Martin Luther King was a Republican and believed in personal responsibility. Yet the majority of blacks vote democrat because the democrats started pandering to them.

When LBJ signed one of his Great Society programs he was overheard saying, and I quote, "We'll have those ni&&ers voting Democratic for another 20 years."

I suppose I could argue that the Democrats have worked hard to put a large part of the black community back into servitude and they seem to have been successful because there are a large number of blacks shackled in the golden handcuffs of welfare.

A lot of them would be better off back in the plantations because at least they would be getting some fresh air and exercise and being useful instead of sitting around all day rusting away like the old tractors that replaced them on the plantations.(There are an awful lot of whites that fit into this category, too.)

Dr. King would be spinning if he knew that because he had always supported personal responsibility and self- determination.

Yet GOP leadership had done a splendid job of alienating a lot of conservative blacks. It's likely that the handful of black conservatives in the GOP are there not because of, but in spite of the present day leadership.

If the GOP would junk the social issues, tell the Christian Coalition to go away, return to basic fiscal responsibility and stop pandering to people like defense contractors and oil companies they would likely be able to get us back on a solid financial footing instead of driving us deeper and deeper into debt as they are doing in what seems to be a joint effort with the demcrats.

Of course, the Tea Party came out trying to follow the basic values of fiscal conservatism and would have likely done quite well. It wouldn't have surprised me if they'd have stripped the ranks of the GOP clean, but they made the same mistake the GOP did.

They let themselves be sidetracked by social and religious issues, which are certain to alienate an awful lot  of people. They went from an overnight up and coming success to another dismal flop in about the same amount of time.

Until the GOP leadership smartens up they are simply giving the future to the liberal movement out there and it won't be long until we implode.

Incidentally, not that it means anything, but I am  NOT a Republican.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html