Heart

I have a tendency to have a crush on whatever woman I'm around at the moment, and it's much the same with the music I listen to. I may tell you that the female vocalist playing on the sound system at any given moment is the best ever...

But nobody and I mean nobody, sings like Ann Wilson.

This series on VH1 has had some great acts on it, but so far none has approached Heart and Friends. I say this only halfway through the show. If this post begins to seem disjointed, it's because I am distracted.

Good Lord. For women in their fifties these girls are still knockouts. Ann is what Greg Beck would call a "hug and chalk," but she still looks great and her performance absolutely knocks my socks off. Thirty years later I still get chills listening to her.

I first heard Heart in seventy-six, before the band became famous. I was hanging with a friend from work and he was playing Dreamboat Annie on the turntable. I remember it was an odd evening because he, for some reason, decided he wanted to "come out" to me that night. One minute he would tell me that he was gay, I would say that's cool, and then he would back up and say he was just kidding. This went on for a couple of hours until I finally told him that I didn't care if he was gay or not, in fact I preferred that he was because then I would know he wasn't competing with me for the girls. And, he was better looking than me.

But I was hooked on the music and bought a copy of the album.

I remember working for Heart in the early eighties and by eighty-three Ann was starting to approach maximum density. I saw her split her black leather pants on stage one night and back-up, up stage, to let a stagehand tape her crotch with black gaffer's tape. She completed that segment of the set and then went backstage to change clothes.

Other than the "classic rock" stations, Heart pretty much fell off the face of the earth in the nineties. But I can't recommend this VH1 special enough. The only thing that would make it better would be to keep the camera plastered on Nancy. 'Specially if she was nekkid...

Bird Flu Hits United States

My good friend, Sandy sent me a photo of the havoc being wreaked in Florida by the bird flu. I didn't know it had reached our shores already, but was horrified at the image. Warning: not for the squeamish...


Florida Devastation

Lost Dog

Son1 pointed out this light pole at lunch today.


"Dang, Dad," he said, "that's sure a lot of lost dogs!"

Backwards Masking

The little bride tells me that I'm crazy.

While I won't argue that point, I will insist that something just ain't right with the folks that do the closed captions for Christopher Lowell.

The bride likes to watch his show for "decorating tips" but I think she really has fantasies about "converting" him. Just a theory. But back to the point at hand.

If you turn the sound down and start the closed captions, it really seems like some kind of backwards masking is going on. Or something. Something evil. Here's an example of what I'm talking about, you tell me if I'm wrong. If you need a better look, click on the picture and it will get scary big.


ackbards smakcign

Not convinced? Okay, here's another example. What the hell is he saying? Whatever it is, he seems pretty confident about it.


smo asking bamarks

There's something evil afoot. I don't know exactly what. But I don't like it...

Self Taser

via email this morning...

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Toni. What I came across was a 100 000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser.

The effects of the taser were suppose to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety.... WAY TOO COOL!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.

Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.

Awesome!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Toni what that burned spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries,. right?!!!

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.

Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.....

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it master," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER OF WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION@!@$$!%!@*!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!"

Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative.

SON-OF-A-.. that hurt like hell!!! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.

I'm still looking for my testicles. I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return.

Still in shock,

Tommy

Blog tribute

Waiter Rant
The young couple seemed innocent enough when they stepped into the Bistro around 4:30. Certainly no reason not to seat them in the prime window table they requested. After all, it wasn’t reserved until 7:00.

But now they’ve been cooing and making goo-goo eyes for over two hours and I desperately need to free that table up for Mr. Big’s party that is soon to arrive.

“Looks like they’re moving in,” whispers Saroya as she glides into the kitchen. Her section is turning like a clock and I can see her mentally tallying the tips in her head as she chuckles about my misfortune.

I mention to Fluvio that I’ve really got a problem.

“No problem,” he says.

“What do you mean, no problem, Mr. Big will be here any time now.”

I saw a flash in Fluvio’s eye as he reiterated, “no problem.”

My hopes for help were dashed as Fluvio got on the phone and started having what appeared to be an animated conversation.

But, it wasn’t long until Mr. Goo-goo-eyes’ attention was drawn to something on the street through his coveted window seat.

“Crap!” he yelled as he leapt to his feet.

Outside, I could see the tow-truck pulling up to a yuppie BMW.

“Your check, sir,” I smiled as he ran past me out of the door. Fluvio had come through for me after all.


Tracy X
I loves me my yummy frothy frappacino from Starbucks. I could drink them all day except that it would make my thighs as thick as the Michelin Tire Man. But I’m in line at the Starbucks and I’m thinking about how lovely it would be, exciting really, if the Korean Mafia were here and they were reciting haiku to me. And the homeless lady at the back table chimed in and it was like one of those Coke commercials where they teach the world to sing in perfect harmony and everything and then, well, except it’s in haiku and not harmony and then they all take me out for shots. And they’re like putting salt on my cleavage and licking it off and doing tequila shots, even the homeless lady, which is really cool except that my boss who is like the head of the Korean Mafia and all is getting jealous and he fires everybody except me, even the homeless lady, and now I’m in charge of the company but there’s nobody to do the work and everything gets all out of control, you know, and I feel like maybe I don’t really know what I’m doing and then I wake up and it was really a dream and my dog is licking me. He slobbers a lot. But I vaguely smell frappacino and I’m thinking, “WTF?”

Sandy
Me and Francis had been sitting on the porch, her in her swing, me on the other side of the porch in mine, both of us puffing on Virginia Slims cigarettes. I couldn’t see her face, but she let out a big old puff of smoke and said, “Sandy, what in the hell were you thinking when you set that pan of burning grease on my kitchen table? You done ruined it for good now!”

I knew she wouldn’t still be mad at me the next day, but it sure made me feel lower than a toadstool that night. And ever since that day I have known that when the grease catches on fire, you throw that pan out the window. You don’t set it down nowhere. And, if Ailey doesn’t learn another thing from me, I hope that she remembers that lesson for the rest of her life.

Bane
You all know that I am not one to embellish my stories. Everything you read here is the truth. I know that many of you are calling “bullshit” right now, and you’re welcome to go read a safer blog somewhere else. Maybe over at Instapundit or Disney dot com. For all I care you can just chuck your computer and give up on the whole web surfing thing all together. That’s not my problem.

I just know that when I pulled the sixteen inches of cold steel from his throat, the same sixteen inches of steel I had just plunged in to the hilt, the man transformed before my eyes into a crow and flew away.

I resolved that moment never to confront the invisible forces of evil in that manner again. Next time I would go for one of the sixteen pistols I have secreted about my body…

Why?

How could I stand the idea of a girl with only half a face?

This, this, my friends, is why I answered the ad in Craigslist...

Lance Armstrong Frightens Children and Wildlife

Well, I don't really have any proof about children, but...

I suppose it's just that time of year. It started several weeks ago when I noticed a thumping noise coming from the kitchen. Investigating, I found a young robin slamming himself into the back door, over and over and over again. Which is kind of funny to watch.

He apparently sees his reflection and considers it to be viable competition for the ladies.

And I don't mind birds and animals kind of doing their thing around here as long as it doesn't interfere with my lifestyle too much, so I figured I could wait him out until he tired of it and finally got him some sweet bird loving to calm him down.

I didn't even mind the streaky marks he's leaving all over the windows so much.



But the problem I've got now, since it's going on for weeks on end is that he sits on the railing and poops in between bouts with the phantom rival.


Which we just can't continue to abide.

He's even taken to bringing a friend along to watch him slam into the window. I don't know if the friend poops on the railing or not, but I'm ready to put a stop to it.

I noticed that when I walk up to the window, they fly away and the thumping stops for a while. Then it starts back up in a bit and continues until I walk in again. This goes on pretty much all day.

So this morning, I see this ad in Newsweek Magazine, "Put on Your Lance Face." It has a big ole, nearly lifesize head of Lance Armstrong.

I tore out the page, taped it to the inside of the window, looking out, and voila!


No more bird headbangers...

At least for now.

UPDATE!
It appears that not only are birds not frightened of Lance Armstrong,



but now it seems to only infuriate the little guy more...



I've got to find myself some pictures of Chuck Norris...

Attractive Customers

Not in the usual sense, no.

But, I frequently go to lunch with one of my co-workers. And, both of us having adventurous palates, we like to try new and/or exotic restaurants. Today, we tried out a fairly new sushi bar here downtown, and when we got there the place was empty. In fact, two of the wait staff were standing in the doorway as if to try and flag down passing pedestrians.

So, as we're eating our bento, I notice the place is starting to fill up.

I casually mention that this seems to happen everywhere we go. It seems when we start eating somewhere new, it attracts more customers. As a matter of fact, I told him, restaurants should be willing to feed us for free just to get us to come there and increase their business. He, of course, thought that was a capital idea and I could see that he was thinking about how we could market such a concept.

When it came time to pay, he asked the hostess, "Is it always this busy?"

"No," she said, "today is a lot busier than normal."

I gave my friend a knowing look.

"You should feed us for free," he said.

The hostess looked a little confused as she counted out my change. "Well, I guess people are starting to find out about us," she muttered.

So. If you are in the greater Little Rock area, have a restaurant and would like to see your business grow, leave particulars in the comments section of this post about when and where you will feed us for free.

Our guarantee: you must be completely satisfied with the results of feeding us for free and increasing your business, or we won't eat for free in your restaurant ever again!

Do I know you?

From time to time I notice folks here in Little Rock that have been by to read my drivel, and from Conway and other towns about Arkansas. If you're a local reader, would you drop me a line and let me know how you found me and maybe a little about yourself?

Okay, I'm really curious, who is with GHB&W? Come on, you can tell me...

Ebay Advice

I have a soft spot in my heart for early glass. I like blown and pressed glass and particularly the Ashburton pattern. There's something about a hundred and fifty year old glass that just feels good. Something that fragile that has survived all those years and I'm drinking wine in it. Or whiskey, or beer...

And, if you come to my house you can drink out of them too. Just don't toss it in the fireplace when you're finished.

It was a really cool thing when I found five water tumblers on eBay in my Ashburton pattern. I placed a ridiculously low bid on them, approximately as much as you'd normally pay for one, and crossed my fingers.

Well I won, and I was pretty pleased with that.

But let me give you a clue, you wannabe ebay tycoons:

If you sell something fragile, don't wrap it in newspaper and toss it in a box.








There's something really sad about opening your box that just came in the mail and finding little neatly wrapped packages of 150 year old glass shards...

I remember...

Sandy will tell you, I don't do the "me-me" thing very often. And I never pass on those emails that implore you not to break the chain. But I saw this me-me over at Junebug's place and it made me think about all the crap I wrote in people's yearbooks back in high school. If someone asked me to sign their yearbook, I would write a half page or so about all the stuff we had done together. Of course it was stuff like being on the cheerleading squad with them and b.s. designed to make them scratch their heads in future years muttering, "who in the hell was this guy?"

So, without further ado, (and I expect both of the people that read this to respond!) here's the poop:

"If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often or don't really know each other) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you!"

Won't you be my neighbor?

The neighborhood I work in is, for lack of a better term, eccentric. Naw, a better term might be weird.

And, as the fellow once said, it might be easier to just show you than to try and explain it.

First stop on our tour is just behind our building. All I can say is this guy must be a real fan...

Kiss Car

And then, going down to 15th and Main, there's... well,

discount hookers

I've never actually seen anyone there, so I can't vouch for the quality, but if anyone knows, please fill me in...

The Boy's Ride

Okay, some of you remember last summer when son1 bought his dream car. Only trouble was, it didn't have an engine, a transmission, tires, and well, lots of things that most of us take for granted. Yeah, he said he was going to save his money and buy all those things and fix it up.

I wasn't really enthusiastic about this plan, knowing that the boy is a lot like me in the procrastination department. And I advised him at the time that he would be better off buying one that was already mostly there, or at least running. Of course he would hear nothing of it. This was, after all, his dream car. And I believe in letting children fail.

So, here we are, the better part of a year later and the only thing he has done to his dream car is install an inner cooler he bought from a junk yard (wtf???)and taken the lenses off of the primered lights. BUT!!!

He did do the saving part.

And, last night he went and bought another car of his dreams with the cash he had saved.


"mitsi"

At least this one has an...


engine!

Uncommon Sense

I am a huge fan, just can't get enough....

Protector of the Two Party System

Let's face it, whether they know it or not, Republicans are set on preserving the two party system in America. Why else would Republicans tout family values so loudly?

I mean, if we just keep quiet, encourage everyone who wants an abortion to get one and legalize same-sex marriage, within a generation there won't be any Democrats.

Second Amendment Target Tour - Leg 5

The target is looking for a new place to stop off...send in your pics and get your turn.

"You got your peanut butter in my chocolate..."

They've combined two things I like together and made both of them better.

Why wasn't I told about this before?

Zep

Bane posts on one of, if not the greatest rock band of all time. Can't say as I agree with him on the "faggot" part, having been around them back in the mid seventies due to my work, but I agree totally..."but oh, the music."

Rasselin'

In my youth, wrestling was still fairly underground as an entertainment. The days of Gorgeous George. Matches took place in smokey basements of the local auditorium and the folks that went took them very seriously.

I wouldn't of thought about this except for Sandy brought it up.

I had friends that told deathly tales of mayhem and humiliation and made me want to go so bad, but my folks were above such things and we stayed away. As I grew, we would sometimes argue about whether it was fake or not. And it was years before I became convinced that it was.

When son1 was a wee tad of a boy, he was fascinated with wrestling and just would not listen to reason about how fake it was. So I decided to set up a little demonstration.

We were watching wrestling on television one Saturday and one of the wrestlers would jump up on the ropes and leap off onto the other unsuspecting guy and cream him right to the mat. I told son1, "how on earth you think that guy didn't see that coming?"

He wasn't convinced. So I climbed up on the couch until I was standing on the back of it and told him, "Stand right there while I jump on you."

I knew darned well that by the time I launched myself from that sofa, he would run away and I could say, "what makes you think you're faster than those wrestling guys?"

About that time the couch tipped over backwards, flinging me forward in a prone position parallel to the floor, barking my shins and causing me to land painfully across the sofa which was now laying on its back, my face skinned and flattened on the floor.

And, as predicted, son1 moved deftly aside in deference to my landing.

When son1 finally quit laughing he admitted that maybe I had a point. The little bride told me that he was only saying that to make me feel better and then told son1 that wrestling was real no matter what daddy says. I've pretty much stayed out of the discussion ever since.

Free For All

Now where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom
(2 Cor. 3:17).

Still Life

Dr. Livingstone, I presume?

V-man opines that the story of Stanley and Livingstone would have made a great movie. And he's probably right, as usual.

His fear is that, made today, the story would be debauched. But of course, that already happened more than 100 years ago. The whole episode was nothing more than a publicity stunt to begin with.

Stanley, a native of Wales, had come to the United States to seek his fortune, somehow wound up here in Arkansas at the outbreak of our late unpleasantness, and enlisted in Company A, Capitol Guards, 6th Arkansas Infantry.

Captured first time out of the chute, he found it expedient to renounce his loyalty to the noble lost cause and enlisted in the Union Army.

Later, as a reporter for the New York Herald, he endeavored to spend as much of the newspapers fortune as possible, hiring thousands of porters and guides to help him find someone who was not lost and then insinuated himself into the poor man's entourage forcing him to share some of the limelight in his discoveries.

He then became a serial killer in Africa before returning to Europe to marry an Ann Heche type artist and go into politics. He died in 1904 gasping, "St. Peter, I presume?"

Convictions

"To be one's self, and unafraid whether right or wrong, is more admirable than the easy cowardice of surrender to conformity."

Irving Wallace

There is a segment of our society, and a large one, that cares not about convictions or even right and wrong. They just need to be made to feel good. Don't rock the boat and tell me feelgood things.

These people adored Bill Clinton as president because he never did anything out of principle. He will be most noted for his indiscretions than for his statesmanship. His failures to act rather than his accomplishments. He left a lot of people bewildered. And he made a lot of people feel good.

This is why there is such an irrational hatred of President Bush. History will tell if he has been right or wrong, but he has not wavered from the course of his convictions no matter what the criticism. He doesn't tell us meaningless things to make us feel good.

And I am thankful to a just God that we have a man of conviction as our leader and pray that God direct his footsteps as he leads. And, I believe He has.

Do I Know You?

Lately, I've seen on several blogs a reference to pissing people off that you have never met. The internet is good for that.

I found it out shortly after I started buying stuff on eBay. A friend of mine who knew that I used the name"circa bellum" on eBay called me one day. He had been shopping in an antique store here locally.

He told me that some dude came in and was talking with the owner of the store. He said that he was on his way from Ohio to Texas and by the way, did he know of anybody locally that went by the name circa bellum on eBay?

This perked my friends ears up, so he starts listening more carefully.

The store owner shakes his head and says, "no, never heard of him." And, the dude says, "well, that son of a bitch out bids me on everything I bid on!"

When I heard that, I said, "Well, the internet allows me to go beyond just pissing off people on a local scale. It allows you to piss off folks globally!"

And, it does.

Dont Ask How I Know...

"...Just know that I do."

"There's nothing worse than achieving your martyrdom and disappointing 72 virgins at once."

Emotional Currency

For your entertainment, I present a trick that I like to play for the kids. They seem to get a kick out of it and I figured if you haven't seen it before you might want to see it now.

We're going to make George laugh and cry. To do this, use a one dollar bill. It's best if it's one that's not too wrinkled up. The crisper the paper, the better.

Fold the bill right through George's left eye like this:



Then fold the bill right through his other eye and crease them pretty good. Next, bring the two folds together and make a third crease going the other way between them. Like an accordion:



Then, pull them slightly apart, not straightening them out completely, and tilt the bill away and then toward you. Tilting it away makes him laugh:



And tilting it toward you makes him cry:

Remember New Orleans

"How a politician stands on the Second Amendment tells you how he or she views you as an individual... as a trustworthy and productive citizen, or as part of an unruly crowd that needs to be lorded over, controlled, supervised, and taken care of."
Texas State Representative Suzanna Hupp

thanks, and a tip of the ol' Hatlo hat to Dave Nall.

eBay's Back!

I took a couple of years off, basically, from eBay when collectibles kind of tanked after the “panic” of 2000. By 2003 it just got where it wasn’t worth putting anything on for the return on investment.

I started buying on eBay in 1998, and found antique photographs to be severely under-priced. I snapped them up for nearly a year and then it seemed I couldn’t buy them anymore. The prices got too high.

So, I started putting them back out for sale on eBay and ended up turning a tidy profit. There were still lots of bargains out there, you just had to scrounge around odd areas of eBay and look for things that weren’t described right. This turned items like the “pair of brothers in school uniforms” for $50.00 into the Confederate Texas soldier brothers that sold on eBay for $1100.00 in 1999.

If you are industrious, you can root out categories that are still underpriced and buy in them. I’m told by my inside sources that old vinyl records are depressed on eBay right now and a great buy. Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about them to pursue that. But I did go through several categories over the past years like coin silver, glass, pottery, coins, and lamps - buying while the buying was good, and selling when it got too high to buy anymore.

And that’s where we seem to be now. I can’t seem to buy a damned thing on eBay now, so I’m going to start putting it out again. If you have any interest, go have a look at my auctions. Just click this link and I’ll see you there!

I smell coffee...

Velociman pines for an old time percolator. I can't say as I blame him.

It's a taste that can't be duplicated elsewise.

I have an old stovetop percolator (in the South, pronounced: purr' cue lay' tur) that I take camping, and it makes a mean pot of coffee over a campfire. Yes, I know the purists say dump it in the pan and toss in some egg shells, but I'm funny this way.

But pictured above, is our fancy-go-to-meetin' percolator.

The little bride found it at a flea market some time back, and it makes a wonderful pot of coffee that never ceases to amaze visitors.

Of course, most have never seen one of these jewels, but old farts like me and V. remember sitting around with the folks, amorning, and drinking coffee from a percolator. Even the sound it makes is friendlier than that awful drip thing on the kitchen counter.

This one is circa 1940's and is trying to emulate a silver coffee set. Notice the tray, creamer and sugar. I didn't dig out the cord because I assume you assumed there is one. There is. It fits to the two prongs on the base. Just like on grandma's iron.

On second thought, I'm going to get the cord out and make me a pot of coffee.

Paris Hilton Shows Off Her New Shoes...

Asked, "where'd ya get those shoes?!" Paris pulled her skirt back for a better peek and blushed, "Overstock dot com, silly. It's all about the 'OH'..."

See? That's why...

This is why it's a good idea not to ever own a firearm that is registered in your name. Hell, it might even be a good idea to never get a hunting license either. It's why it should never be any business of the government to even know if you own firearms or not.

Finders fee to Bane

Happy Kwanzaa

A movement that started approximately 2,000 years before Kwanzaa leaps well beyond mere "unity" and "faith" to proclaim that we are all equal before God. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28). It was practitioners of that faith who were at the forefront of the abolitionist and civil-rights movements. But that's all been washed down the memory hole, along with the true origins of Kwanzaa.

Shake the Snow Globe

Christmas Morn

The sons seem pretty happy this morning. Son2 racked up on the Lego and video game front but son1 could not have imagined what his present from Santa would be this year.

It happened a couple of weeks ago. One of those right place, right time sort of events.

The Bride was doing some last minute shopping at Target, fingering all of the DVD's and PS2 games, trying to come up with some ideas, when she sees a man taking an XBox 360 up to the cash register. We're not so sheltered as to have not been aware of the hoopla over not being able to get these things.

So, she moseys up to the cash register and asks, "You have XBox 360s?"

"Well, we're not advertising them," replied the pimply-faced clerk, "but I have one left. Want it?"

The little Bride began to tremble as she nodded her assent. She later said it was one of those situations where you don't even think about it, you just act. I guess she has spidey sense when it comes to shopping.

So, fast forward to today. Son1, who has been working full time for about six months now, had mentioned that he wanted to buy an XBox 360 with his last paycheck, but "you can't get them."

The expression on his face this morning made it all worthwhile.

Temporary Safety

All I’ve been seeing for the last few weeks, and from some folks I respect and admire, is a rant about how we must renew the Patriot Act. Fingers are pointed, accusations made and the bottom party line seems to be, “if it bugs a bunch of whiny pussies to have their civil liberties violated in order to keep our country safe and free from Islamoterrorists, then so be it.”

Then there’s usually some sort of comparison to liberals wanting to take away our freedoms being the ones to yell loudest.

Shame. Shame on you.

You are the same ones screaming bloody murder about criminals being released from jail on technicalities.

Well folks, those technicalities happen to be our United States Constitution. And any of you idiots, right or left, who think our founding fathers weren’t smart enough to foresee modern times, and that the constitution is outdated and quaint, couldn’t be more wrong.

Those technicalities are what keeps us free. They are what separates us from the rest of the world. They are in fact what makes us the most successful country on the planet.

I kind of like the “technicality” that our government can’t spy on me without clearing it with a judge first. I think it’s fitting that they can’t come into my home on a whim and snoop through my belongings. I’m pretty enamored of the idea that they can’t drag me from my home and keep me in a cell somewhere for years without charging me with a crime.

And, if some bearded idiot with a checkered do-rag commits a crime in this country because I enjoy these freedoms, so be it. When we give up our freedoms to protect ourselves from them, they win.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Benjamin Franklin

Trout Fishing in America

This article on trout fishing in Arkanasas made me remember back going trout fishing on the White River and being warned to get your boat out of the water "cuz they's gonna start generatin' up at the dam."

The river starts to flow pretty hard when they do that and a little trolling motor ain't much help...

link tip via Fly Fish Magazine.

Shoe Flinging Part II

Since my post on flinging shoes across power lines aired last week, inside sources tell me about an oddly local custom of flinging shoes into a tree up in the mountains.

To further complicate things, the tree was downed in a storm and now confused shoe flingers are tossing into any old tree...

Register Your Guns

It happened in Australia, and now it's happening in Canada.

It will happen here. Be prepared.

School Days

Son2 has a couple of friends across the street he walks to school with. I think they make a pretty swell looking group. Don't you?

Friendly Advice

Here's some things that were pointed out to me that you should keep in mind if you ain't from around here...

Advice for first time visitors to Arkansas:

1. That farm boy standing next to the feed bin did more work before breakfast than you do all week at the gym.

2. It's called a 'gravel road,' No matter how slow you drive, you're going to get dust on your Navigator. I have a four wheel drive because I need it... not just to keep up with the neighbors.

3. We all started hunting and fishing when we were seven years old. Yeah, we shot Bambi. We got over it.

4. Any references to "corn fed" when talking about our women will get your butt whipped by our women.

5. Go ahead and bring your $600 Orvis Fly Rod. Don't cry to us if a flatheadcatfish breaks it off at the handle. We have a name for those little trout you fish for -- bait.

6. Pull your pants up. You look like an idiot.

7. If that cell phone rings while a bunch of mallards are making their final approach, we will shoot it. You might hope you don't have it up to your ear at the time.

8. That's right. Whiskey is only two bucks. We can buy a fifth for what you pay for one drink at the airport.

9. No, there's no "Vegetarian Special" on the menu. Order steak. Order it rare. Or, you can order the Chef Salad and pick off the two pounds of ham and turkey.

10. You bring Coke into my house, it better be brown, wet, and served over ice!

11. So you have a sixty-thousand dollar car you drive on weekends. We're real impressed. We have quarter of a million dollar combines that we use two weeks a year.

12. Let's get this straight. We have one stoplight in town. We stop when it's red. We may even stop when it's yellow.

13. Our women hunt, fish, and drive pickups, trucks and tractors because they want to. So, you're a feminist. Isn't that cute?

14. Yeah, we eat catfish. Carp too -- and turtle. You really want sushi and caviar? It's available at the bait shop.

15. They are pigs. That's what they smell like. Get over it. Don't like it? Interstates 40 and 30 go East & West; Interstate 55 goes North & South. Pick one and use it accordingly.

16. The "Opener" refers to the first day of deer season. It's a religious holiday. You can get breakfast at the church.

17. So every person in every pickup, waves. It's called being friendly.

18. Yeah, we have golf courses. Don't hit in the water hazard. It spooks the fish.

19. That Highway Patrol Officer who just pulled you over for driving like an idiot .. his name is "Sir"... no matter how old he is.

Now please, enjoy your visit. Just don't overdo your stay.

Shoe Flinging

It’s one of the great mysteries of urban life: Why do people throw sneakers across power lines? At last, we have an answer.

Unfortunately, it’s not a very satisfying one. The New York Times recently interviewed a New York sneaker-thrower, and his explanation was that, well, he had some old sneakers and the power lines were there. If this sounds familiar, it’s the same reason that graffiti vandals give: I have this can of Krylon and the wall is there.



Background: You’ve undoubtedly noticed that, in some urban areas, there are sneakers dangling from power lines, often in the middle of the street. It’s clear that somebody took the trouble to tie sneakers at their laces and toss them over the lines. But why?

Common beliefs: Sneakers mark gang territory or maybe places to buy drugs. But New York police officers say it isn’t so. Drug corners aren’t “the sort of thing that people advertise by leaving a sign,” a police spokesperson told the Times.

So the Times went to the source, a 16-year-old sneaker-thrower named Christopher Campbell, who lives in the Bronx. In Christopher’s neighborhood, there’s an intersection with 40 pairs of sneakers dangling from overhead wires. Why would Christopher and his pals go to such trouble? Simply to tell the world that they were there, he said. “We really don’t care who likes it or not,” he said. “This is something for us.” Someday, Christopher mused, he’d like to come back to his old neighborhood, remember the good times and see his old Reeboks swaying in the breeze.

Footnote: Con Edison, the power company, doesn’t like sneakers on its wires and removes them when it finds them. And neighborhood people, too, find the practice offensive. “I think it’s disgusting,” said one woman who lives near the 40-sneaker wires. Is sneaker-tossing illegal? That’s not clear, but it could be considered a form of criminal mischief, a police official told the Times.

I found this interesting tidbit at Civic Strategies.

Happiness is a Present Condition...

I've always striven to be happy wherever I am. To have fun, whatever I'm doing. And, blissfully ignorant of what others think about me.

These traits will enable you to work for a company like this for many years and not realize how unhappy you really have become.

The guy in the corner over there, the one who has been following my blog since I began it, knows that I escaped such a company a few years ago by being tossed out on my ass. The great thing about that was, I woke up and realized that to be really happy, I needed to be as independent as possible.

I need to be able to work as a greeter at Wal-Mart, and still be okay financially.

I'm working hard at that goal, and am making great progress. And, I'm feeling freer now than I ever did at twenty-one...

A Date That Will Live In Infamy

With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounded determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.

And so we did. A moment of silence, please.

It’s going to be a merry Christmas after all!

Another re-post of a heartwarming Christmas tale...

It was cold and brisk Saturday as I drove up and down the aisles looking for a parking place at the mall. Quite a hike it turned out to be and I nudged my jacket collar up and braced against the wind. The southern sun twinkled off the plastic holly and glass balls affixed to cars as holiday ornaments.

As I walked, I could only think about how cruel this season is. The pressure that comes from having to fight crowds to buy that “perfect gift” and the endless string of parties with people you don’t like. I felt my spine stiffen with resentment, more with each step.

As I neared the mall entrance, between Luby’s and Dillards, I couldn’t help but notice a small, dark-haired boy sitting dejected on the curb. He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, and as I drew nearer, I could see he was crying.

The feelings of resentment and anger began melting as I started to open the door. It would have been easy to pass him without another thought. It’s not my problem, right?

I hesitated, then turned and walked back to where the lad sat weeping. “What’s wrong,” was all I could manage to get out. He looked up at me with large watery brown eyes. Slowly he stood to face me.

“Our Christmas money,” he whispered almost choking. “My mother works two jobs to take care of us since dad left last year. She doesn’t have time to shop for us for Christmas.”

“She saved all year, and dropped me off here with two hundred dollars and told me to pick out nice presents for my two sisters, my brother and me.”

“As she drove away, two boys from my school saw me. They are the same boys that shove me on the play ground. Sometimes I’m scared to ride the bus home because they have said they would follow me and hurt me. Mom’s never home when I get there after school. She works so much…”

“One of the boys grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills from me and they both ran away laughing. How can I ever explain to my mother that I could only buy half as much for my sisters and brothers?

I could tell that he had already decided to spend what was left only on them, with no thought for himself. “Did nobody try to help you?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, “They all kept walking by.”

“Did you cry for help?” I asked, really having trouble believing that nobody, I mean NOBODY, would stop to help this poor waif.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “like this – help!”

It was barely more than the whisper that he spoke in. “Is that as loud as you can yell?” I asked, beginning to understand why no one came to his aid.

He nodded, and looked down, ashamed.

I cast a furtive glance around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. I snatched the other hundred dollar bill from his hands and ran as fast as I could to my car. I never looked back to see if he went for help.

A hundred dollars! It’s going to be a merry Christmas after all!

'Tis the Season.

You can say I'm sick, you can accuse me of being a Scrooge, but this here is funny, I don't care who you are... A re-post because it's that time of year again.

Now by and by
the kids may cry,
'Cause there's nothing on Christmas mornin',
But the word just came in, from headquarters men
That Santa had gone over to Bin Laden.

I know they mamas was soooo proud!

The Pallasites of Kiowa County

If you're reading this thinking it's a story about inbred hillbillies in rural Kansas, move on to the next blog. But if you think rocks that crash to Earth from outer space are really cool, then check out the Million Dollar Space Rock that Steve Arnold found.



To give you an idea of how beautiful this lump of rock they're sitting on really is, here's a photo of one that's been cut open and polished...

(thanks to Monnig Museum at TCU)

No more posts today... I've got a shovel and a back yard, I'm gonna find me one of them thangs.

Second Amendment Target Tour

The Second Amendment Target, having started its journey in Florida, moved from there to Arizona, took a pit stop in Arkansas and is now in Alaska, is looking for its next way station. And all you got to do is submit your favorite gun flavored photograph (taken either of you or by you) to Resurgemus by November 30th. You may already be a weiner winner!

And everybody is a winner! Just showing your support of the Second Amendment makes you a winner, so get going, dust off that camera and send 'em in!

Salmon Croquettes

Sandy’s new recipe blog, Flies in the Butter starts out with, what I’m sure is, a great Georgia recipe for Salmon patties. And it made me think just how regional cooking is.

See, where I come from, they call them salmon croquettes. And those crazy Cajuns eat ‘em slathered in hot sauce and not catsup. So, I guess not to be outdone by no Georgianer, I’m gonna post my recipe for salmon croquettes.

Straight from the canal country of deep southeast Texas…

SALMON CROQUETTES

Start with a roux, (for those that don’t know, just take some bacon grease and get it hot, mix in some flour and cook it until light brown) and add some chopped onions and celery (finely chopped) and minced garlic if you like. Pour the water from the can of salmon into the flour and grease mixture to complete the roux. Continue cooking until a nice brown color.

Don’t you dare pick out the little bones in the salmon because Cajuns don’t want to miss out on anything. Mix your roux and a can of unadulterated salmon in a mixing bowl. Now you can add some cayenne pepper or other seasonings that you like at this point, but I don’t.

Put some corn meal on a plate and dip out a glob of salmon paste from the bowl with a big honkin’ tablespoon and drop it on the corn meal. Once it’s covered all over with the meal, roll it into a ball with the palms of your hands.

Mash it flat, pat it into the meal on each side again to make sure it's coated good, and put it in a cast iron skillet with just enough oil to cover the bottom and keep doing that until the skillet won’t hold any more. Fry them until golden brown on both sides, salt to taste, and slather them with Louisiana Hot Sauce. Tabasco will do, but doesn’t have as delicate a flavor as Louisiana style.

Islam is the AntiChrist

For weeks now I've heard commentators talking about the rioting Islamofascists in France and referring to them as youths, young men, and just about anything other than radical Islamists.

Are we so afraid to call it like it is that we can't name names? And did I actually hear a television commentator refer to them as "young African Americans"? What? In France????

So, I guess (theoretically)it's politically correct to say that young, black males from the United States are running rampant through France, rioting and burning property, murdering and looting, but it's not okay to mention that, "Oh yeah, they're Muslim."

Reck-o-nize Peeeple! It is the religion of peace that is causing almost all of the problems in our world today. Prove me wrong. Please. Somebody?

Daddy Longlegs

Night before last, I saw one of those huge mosquito things buzzing around in my bedroom and by morning it was floating dead in the toilet. At some point my little bride killed the creature and gave him a burial at sea of sorts. Except for the burial part. I guess she didn't think he was worth spending the resources of a special flush.

Or maybe, like the cat, she wanted to show off her trophy.

Whatever the reason, she has always had a healthy fear of these "mosquito hawks" as she calls them. Matter of fact, that's all I've ever heard anyone call them around here. Got me wondering. Just how dangerous are these giant bloodsuckers?

Google is my friend.

Turns out, in most parts of the world, the mosquito hawk is a term for a dragonfly. So, what the heck is this dude in my toilet? It's a crane fly. And they don't suck blood. They don't even bite. They probably don't do anything other than fly around looking creepy.

And a popular nickname for them is "daddy longlegs."

Well, just to show you how messed up we are around here, our daddy longlegs is a big honking spider. Or he just looks big because he has legs about 3 inches long each, but he does have a body smaller than a dime in the center of 'em. The bride pointed out that the proper name is actually Grandaddy Longlegs. But we mostly just call them daddy.

Most of you know that the daddy longlegs spider is just about the most poisonous spider in the world, if not the most poisonous one. Luckily their mouth is too small to bite you so you're safe. At least that's what I've always been told.

Turns out, they ain't poisonous. Not even a little. Hell, they ain't even spiders. Oh, they're arachnids, allright, but they're not spiders. Spiders have two part bodies. Did you know that? And these dudes have a single blob for a body. They are pretty harmless, eating fruit and other bugs and sometimes each other if they get really desperate.

And, it's not really a daddy longlegs. It's a "Harvestman."

But it turns out, there is a daddy longlegs spider. It's not the one crawling up the pine tree behind my house. This one is in my house!

The real daddy longlegs spider is actually a pholcidae spider, or common house spider. To me it's the creepiest of all, but I never called it a daddy longlegs. Or grandaddy longlegs. Until now.

These dudes are venomous, like most spiders, but the venom is so weak that it doesn't even hurt most other bugs.

I know you all are confused at this point so I'm going to put a picture here to illustrate the difference. There will be a test on Wednesday...



left to right, Crane Fly, Pholcidae Spider, Harvestman. Image was lifted from courtesy of The Burke Museum

A Really Bad Idea

My little bride will try nearly any new product. Not too long ago, she brought home several bottles of this Colgate MaxFresh Whitening Cool Mint with mini breath strips fluoride toothpaste.



First of all, it's not paste. Colgate should really get a handle on that. It comes out more as a goo...

And, if you don't squeeze it aggressively enough, it sucks back up into the container which is kind of a turn-off after it's been on someone's toothbrush. So you squeeze it and jerk up and away leaving a large blob on your toothbrush...

...which has a tendency to run off your toothbrush and drip down into the sink below.


And my son wasn't really impressed with the taste.

He used the term rotten burritos, but I think he was exaggerating...

Regardless, this is a poor product and I don't think we'll be repeat buyers. It must have been on sale for her to buy more than one bottle of it in the first place.

What’s your blog really worth?

I’ve been seeing a link around the blog and pony shows that has some kind of algorithm for determining the value of “stock” in your blog. And, I suppose that anything is worth exactly what someone else will give for it and therefore haven’t hung my hopes and dreams on building my blog up for a retirement nest egg.

But Nic Duquette has a more interesting approach. His equation is based on blog ads and the number of hits you get per day. Mind you, I put blog ads on my home improvement site and have yet to pass the $1.50 mark for a month. But in this article, it seems, getting a mere 100 hits per day will put you in the free beer category. Anything above that is gravy.

And, if you link him he promises to trade hits with you and make that happen.

Forget a bunch of African bureaucrats with TEN MILLION DOLLARS to just GIVE ME if I hand over my bank account number. THIS ONE WILL MAKE ME RICH!

Thanks Nic, I owe you one…

Camel Toads

Someone sent me a copy of a newspaper clipping where a woman wrote for advice about her godson talking about camel toads at the swimming pool. She was concerned that this was a dangerous drug thing the kids were into and wanted to know how to deal with it. The columnist replied that the term was probably "camel toe" and referred to a delicate part of the female anatomy.

Last March I posted this. "Giant Monkey Camel Toe." I took this picture in front of a local car dealership on my way to work. I still think it's funny.

Yes...

this has got to be the funniest thing I have seen in a long time. Thanks Not Fit For Humans, for brightening my day.

Top Punch Lines of All Time

A pig that good, you don't eat him all at once.

All right, damnit, I'll wash the dishes!

I didn't say she was crazy, your honor, I said she was fucking Goofy.

I guess I know my own daughter's handwriting.

I didn't want anybody thinkin' I was a truck driver.

Okay, but don't try to start anything!

I told you I was sick!

She puts a suit on him and sends him to work every morning.

You're thirty-four and you're the pricipal.

I don't think I could stand ten dollars worth!

No, I'm not a real sailor. I'm just wearing the hat.

If you haven't heard the jokes, then I probably ruined them for you, didn't I? Some things you can't un-see. Sorry.

Life or Death

I posted this story about nine months ago or so. I thought about it again today when I was sitting in church with my youngest son and he reached up and put my arm around him.

I have never had a job where I made a life or death difference to people, hell I mail stuff for a living, but I have known a lot of policemen, firefighters and servicemen over the years who have such a job.

When I worked as a stage hand, there were a lot of firefighters in the union because their off days afforded them a lot of opportunity to work shows and pick up some extra cash. Of course they loved to regale the uninitiated with stories of blood and mayhem and always the dead fat lady who had been in a bathtub for a week before she was found. The standard crispy critter stories and occasionally the, “that cop asked me how I knew he was dead, ‘you’re not a doctor, are you??’ and I told him, ‘buddy, I ain’t no doctor, but I do know when the mofo’s head ain’t attached to his body no more he is dead!”

For several years I worked for a company across the street from Station No. 1, which was the biggest, nicest fire house in the city. It had a brass pole and they didn’t dance naked around it either.

Once, I was coming out to my car and I could see one of those dumpster trucks barrelling down Seventh Street at a clip and he had flames boiling out of the back. He had obviously emptied a dumpster that was on fire into his truck. I could tell he was headed for the fire station so I ran across the street and into the back door.

Ray, who was Captain at that station, knew me from the stage crew. They all knew I like to joke around and found it hard to take me seriously. When I burst into their break room to tell them that a truck was on fire, Ray gave me that look that says, “okay, what’s the punchline?” One lieutenant got up, ambled over to the door and peeked out. He came running back in yelling, “shit, they’s a truck on fire out there!” The fire truck rolled out the front door, turned the corner and stopped at the burning dumpster truck and they proceeded to hose it down.

When son1 was about 3 years old, the daycare called me and asked me to pick him up. He had a fever and they wanted to send him home. It was late in the afternoon, so I took him back to work with me and figured we’d leave shortly and go home for the day. He was standing next to me at my desk as I caught up a few last minute agenda items.

I noticed that he seemed kind of out of it and asked him if he was okay. He didn’t answer. I reached out for him and he went limp in my hands. He wasn’t breathing!

I grabbed him like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder and ran out the front door, stopping traffic on Seventh and dashed through the open front bay doors. There was one lone firefighter getting a coke from the machine.

I shouted at him that I needed help and laid my son on the cold concrete floor. I don’t know where they came from, but firefighters and emt’s came out of the wood work and swarmed my boy. I was choked with emotion as I watched them work on him. There were so many that I couldn’t even get close, but they would talk to me and tell me what was going on. I never felt like I was left out of the process.

The ambulance came and they told me they were taking him to Children’s Hospital. I followed in my car and called the little bride on my cell phone to let her know where I was going. Her friend from work brought her and they arrived nearly as soon as I did.

After a thorough examination the doctor told us that sometimes children have a fever spike up really fast and it puts them into a sort of seizure. He said they’re actually breathing enough to keep them alive, but you can’t always tell. Though not life threatening, per se, it can be a very scary experience for the parents. They released him to go home with us.

Later that night I received a phone call. It was one of the firefighters that was there when I brought my son in. He said that they all wanted to know if he was alright. My eyes still get a little blurry when I think about those men caring enough about my family to look us up and call.

Those men made a life or death difference in my family that day and I will never forget it.

Immortality Redux

About a year ago, I posted about the immortality of garbage cans. And, how the only two ways I could figure to get rid of one was to leave it when you move (a good idea) or to take a reciprocating saw and cut it up into pieces for the garbage man sanitation department. (a little more difficult, but if you ain't movin'...)

Today, I finally got around to it.

Nothing New

Bane brings to mind that not much has changed when it comes to the American Soldier. For more than two hundred years, it has been de rigueur for the veteran soldiers to give the “fresh fish” a hard time.

“We were actually there for nearly a week, now, as I recall, maybe a little more, and those poor slobs suffered, as most of the time we were being blasted by a bad storm off the ocean, and these guys had no real woodcraft to speak of. Tim and I peeped out of our tents at them, as the storm hit, and the wind and rain began sweeping away their tents, and their gear. We would, between bouts of helpless laughter, and stopping to mix another drink, yell out helpful tips and encouragement to them.

"Fix that shitty fucking tent!" he would holler. Inspired, I yelled "You guys in the motherfuckin Navy? Cuz that sure looks like a fuckin sail, baby!" Then he would yell "Sure looks cold out there!"

”And so on.

”And we, warm and toasty, in our underwear, because it was nearly too hot inside, actually. We each had a candle light; that was something like a telescoping aluminum tube with a big white candle in it, and when you pulled it open, it exposed a glass window that had magnifying properties, and really lit up the tent so we could read one of several books we'd brought. And those candle thingies put out some heat, too. We hung them from little chains, over our respective areas.

”Then, at times, we would each pull out our respective cookware, our Sterno folding stoves and fuel, our spices and condiments, and prepare a feast. We each had a dozen eggs in plastic egg carriers, as well as several cases of C-Rats they'd dropped off with us, and a couple boxes of MRE's, and we feasted like kings. The smell of our cooking would waft down to those boys, and you would hear groaning. Their cook tent had become some fucked up, and getting hot meals in a hurricane, on flappy paper plates, is problematic. The smell of cooking...fresh eggs, bacon, and pan-biscuits, or pancakes, must have driven them to the edge of madness.

”They didn't mess with us because, well, we were grunts, and they knew it. Unless you've been around an active duty grunt, at the peak of his training, you might not understand. I never really got it myself, because I were one, and we all looked fairly normal to me, but others were scared shitless of us. Well, we'd have hurt or killed them for looking at us wrong, but really, we put our knife in one hole at a time just like everybody else, so I don't see the big deal.”

Nearly 150 years ago, during our own Civil War, the old guard acted pretty much the same (re: Wilbur Hinman, Corporal Si Klegg)

”The 200th was to lead the brigade that day, and as it marched past the old regiments the boys made the acquaintance of those who were to be their companions in camp and field… Listen to those ragged and depraved old soldiers as the men of the 200th Indiana, with their fresh faces, clean new clothes and burnished arms, go tramping by:

‘Here’s yer mules, boys! Look at the loads they’re packin’’

‘Fresh Fish!’

‘Thar ain’t no dew fell on ‘em yet.’

“… Si’s feelings were outraged. He wondered why men who were so lost to all decency were not court-martialed and shot. He straightened himself up and cast upon his tormentors a look of utter scorn. Sharp words of retort flew from his tongue, but they were lost in the chorus of wild yells of derision that greeted him.

“Better dry up, Si, said Shorty, them chaps is too many for ye. Wait till ye git a little more practice ‘fore ye try to talk to sich duffers ‘s they be.”

The Second Amendment Target in Arkansas

It's official. Dinosaur and I agree that the Second Amendment target should go to Resurgemus in Alaska. I kind of like that we're going through the "a's" first anyway. Arizona, Arkansas, Alaska... So, before I send it off, I thought I would tack it to my barn wall and take a picture of it along with my favorite '03 Springfield.


2nd Amendment Target on its Arkansas stop, touring America.

When it leaves here, it will also include a shot up target from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission Firing range that we used this morning. The lucky recipient can choose between a target shot up by a .38 Chief's Special Airweight, or an M1 Garand.

Same rules apply as before, so pass it on!

The Telltale Hand

Bane and Queenie have been posting ghost stories of late.

But, I'll tell you up front, I don't have anything as hair raising as those two, but I had a very eerie and supernatural experience once.

Lest you think this is a memory of a young boy and therefore suspect in its veracity, I must assure you that I was in my twenties when this occured.

I awoke in the middle of the night and had a strange sensation that I wasn't alone. In pitch black darkness I lay as still as possible listening.

Not hearing a noise, I started to turn and sit up. It was then that I felt it.

There was a ghastly, horrible hand on the pillow next to my head!

My fingers traced along its fingers, and I tentatively squeezed a couple of the fingertips, but with no reaction. For all practical purposes the hand was dead. And, for all I knew, detached from its original owner.

My heart was racing and my temples throbbing as I tried desperately to decide a course of action. At this point I was wide awake and holding the strange hand in mine.

In my terror I decided to fling the hand across the room and with a great heave I threw myself out of bed and sprawling onto the floor. It was at this point that I realized that I was holding my own hand, numb up to the shoulder from laying above my head on the pillow.

I guess I had fallen asleep that way.

2nd Amendment Target Tour of the USA

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Davy Crockett vs. Welfare

I have always been an admirer of Davy Crockett, a man that put his "money where his mouth is". But I had not seen this before now. Hat tip to Difster for pointing me to it.

The story is excerpted from The Life of Colonel David Crockett by Edward S. Ellis:

Crockett was then the lion of Washington. I was a great admirer of his character, and, having several friends who were intimate with him, I found no difficulty in making his acquaintance. I was fascinated with him, and he seemed to take a fancy to me.

I was one day in the lobby of the House of Representatives when a bill was taken up appropriating money for the benefit of a widow of a distinguished naval officer. Several beautiful speeches had been made in its support – rather, as I thought, because it afforded the speakers a fine opportunity for display than from the necessity of convincing anybody, for it seemed to me that everybody favored it. The Speaker was just about to put the question when Crockett arose. Everybody expected, of course, that he was going to make one of his characteristic speeches in support of the bill. He commenced:

"Mr. Speaker – I have as much respect for the memory of the deceased, and as much sympathy for the sufferings of the living, if suffering there be, as any man in this House, but we must not permit our respect for the dead or our sympathy for a part of the living to lead us into an act of injustice to the balance of the living. I will not go into an argument to prove that Congress has no power to appropriate this money as an act of charity. Every member upon this floor knows it. We have the right, as individuals, to give away as much of our own money as we please in charity; but as members of Congress we have no right so to appropriate a dollar of the public money. Some eloquent appeals have been made to us upon the ground that it is a debt due the deceased. Mr. Speaker, the deceased lived long after the close of the war; he was in office to the day of his death, and I have never heard that the government was in arrears to him. This government can owe no debts but for services rendered, and at a stipulated price. If it is a debt, how much is it? Has it been audited, and the amount due ascertained? If it is a debt, this is not the place to present it for payment, or to have its merits examined. If it is a debt, we owe more than we can ever hope to pay, for we owe the widow of every soldier who fought in the War of 1812 precisely the same amount. There is a woman in my neighborhood, the widow of as gallant a man as ever shouldered a musket. He fell in battle. She is as good in every respect as this lady, and is as poor. She is earning her daily bread by her daily labor; but if I were to introduce a bill to appropriate five or ten thousand dollars for her benefit, I should be laughed at, and my bill would not get five votes in this House. There are thousands of widows in the country just such as the one I have spoken of, but we never hear of any of these large debts to them. Sir, this is no debt. The government did not owe it to the deceased when he was alive; it could not contract it after he died. I do not wish to be rude, but I must be plain. Every man in this House knows it is not a debt. We cannot, without the grossest corruption, appropriate this money as the payment of a debt. We have not the semblance of authority to appropriate it as a charity. Mr. Speaker, I have said we have the right to give as much of our own money as we please. I am the poorest man on this floor. I cannot vote for this bill, but I will give one week's pay to the object, and if every member of Congress will do the same, it will amount to more than the bill asks."

He took his seat. Nobody replied. The bill was put upon its passage, and, instead of passing unanimously, as was generally supposed, and as, no doubt, it would, but for that speech, it received but few votes, and, of course, was lost.

Like many other young men, and old ones, too, for that matter, who had not thought upon the subject, I desired the passage of the bill, and felt outraged at its defeat. I determined that I would persuade my friend Crockett to move a reconsideration the next day.

Previous engagements preventing me from seeing Crockett that night, I went early to his room the next morning and found him engaged in addressing and franking letters, a large pile of which lay upon his table.

I broke in upon him rather abruptly, by asking him what devil had possessed him to make that speech and defeat that bill yesterday. Without turning his head or looking up from his work, he replied:

"You see that I am very busy now; take a seat and cool yourself. I will be through in a few minutes, and then I will tell you all about it."

He continued his employment for about ten minutes, and when he had finished he turned to me and said:

"Now, sir, I will answer your question. But thereby hangs a tale, and one of considerable length, to which you will have to listen."

I listened, and this is the tale which I heard:

Several years ago I was one evening standing on the steps of the Capitol with some other members of Congress, when our attention was attracted by a great light over in Georgetown. It was evidently a large fire. We jumped into a hack and drove over as fast as we could. When we got there, I went to work, and I never worked as hard in my life as I did there for several hours. But, in spite of all that could be done, many houses were burned and many families made homeless, and, besides, some of them had lost all but the clothes they had on. The weather was very cold, and when I saw so many women and children suffering, I felt that something ought to be done for them, and everybody else seemed to feel the same way.

The next morning a bill was introduced appropriating $20,000 for their relief. We put aside all other business and rushed it through as soon as it could be done. I said everybody felt as I did. That was not quite so; for, though they perhaps sympathized as deeply with the sufferers as I did, there were a few of the members who did not think we had the right to indulge our sympathy or excite our charity at the expense of anybody but ourselves. They opposed the bill, and upon its passage demanded the yeas and nays. There were not enough of them to sustain the call, but many of us wanted our names to appear in favor of what we considered a praiseworthy measure, and we voted with them to sustain it. So the yeas and nays were recorded, and my name appeared on the journals in favor of the bill.

The next summer, when it began to be time to think about the election, I concluded I would take a scout around among the boys of my district. I had no opposition there, but, as the election was some time off, I did not know what might turn up, and I thought it was best to let the boys know that I had not forgot them, and that going to Congress had not made me too proud to go to see them.

So I put a couple of shirts and a few twists of tobacco into my saddlebags, and put out. I had been out about a week and had found things going very smoothly, when, riding one day in a part of my district in which I was more of a stranger than any other, I saw a man in a field plowing and coming toward the road. I gauged my gait so that we should meet as he came to the fence. As he came up I spoke to the man. He replied politely, but, as I thought, rather coldly, and was about turning his horse for another furrow when I said to him: "Don't be in such a hurry, my friend; I want to have a little talk with you, and get better acquainted."

He replied: "I am very busy, and have but little time to talk, but if it does not take too long, I will listen to what you have to say."

I began: "Well, friend, I am one of those unfortunate beings called candidates, and – "

"'Yes, I know you; you are Colonel Crockett. I have seen you once before, and voted for you the last time you were elected. I suppose you are out electioneering now, but you had better not waste your time or mine. I shall not vote for you again.'

This was a sockdolager... I begged him to tell me what was the matter.

"Well, Colonel, it is hardly worthwhile to waste time or words upon it. I do not see how it can be mended, but you gave a vote last winter which shows that either you have not capacity to understand the Constitution, or that you are wanting in honesty and firmness to be guided by it. In either case you are not the man to represent me. But I beg your pardon for expressing it in that way. I did not intend to avail myself of the privilege of the Constitution to speak plainly to a candidate for the purpose of insulting or wounding you. I intend by it only to say that your understanding of the Constitution is very different from mine; and I will say to you what, but for my rudeness, I should not have said, that I believe you to be honest. But an understanding of the Constitution different from mine I cannot overlook, because the Constitution, to be worth anything, must be held sacred, and rigidly observed in all its provisions. The man who wields power and misinterprets it is the more dangerous the more honest he is."

"I admit the truth of all you say, but there must be some mistake about it, for I do not remember that I gave any vote last winter upon any constitutional question."

"No, Colonel, there's no mistake. Though I live here in the backwoods and seldom go from home, I take the papers from Washington and read very carefully all the proceedings of Congress. My papers say that last winter you voted for a bill to appropriate $20,000 to some sufferers by a fire in Georgetown. Is that true?"

"Certainly it is, and I thought that was the last vote which anybody in the world would have found fault with."

"Well, Colonel, where do you find in the Constitution any authority to give away the public money in charity?"

Here was another sockdolager; for, when I began to think about it, I could not remember a thing in the Constitution that authorized it. I found I must take another tack, so I said:

"Well, my friend; I may as well own up. You have got me there. But certainly nobody will complain that a great and rich country like ours should give the insignificant sum of $20,000 to relieve its suffering women and children, particularly with a full and overflowing Treasury, and I am sure, if you had been there, you would have done just as I did."

"It is not the amount, Colonel, that I complain of; it is the principle. In the first place, the government ought to have in the Treasury no more than enough for its legitimate purposes. But that has nothing to do with the question. The power of collecting and disbursing money at pleasure is the most dangerous power that can be entrusted to man, particularly under our system of collecting revenue by a tariff, which reaches every man in the country, no matter how poor he may be, and the poorer he is the more he pays in proportion to his means. What is worse, it presses upon him without his knowledge where the weight centers, for there is not a man in the United States who can ever guess how much he pays to the government. So you see, that while you are contributing to relieve one, you are drawing it from thousands who are even worse off than he. If you had the right to give anything, the amount was simply a matter of discretion with you, and you had as much right to give $20,000,000 as $20,000. If you have the right to give to one, you have the right to give to all; and, as the Constitution neither defines charity nor stipulates the amount, you are at liberty to give to any and everything which you may believe, or profess to believe, is a charity, and to any amount you may think proper. You will very easily perceive what a wide door this would open for fraud and corruption and favoritism, on the one hand, and for robbing the people on the other. No, Colonel, Congress has no right to give charity. Individual members may give as much of their own money as they please, but they have no right to touch a dollar of the public money for that purpose. If twice as many houses had been burned in this county as in Georgetown, neither you nor any other member of Congress would have thought of appropriating a dollar for our relief. There are about two hundred and forty members of Congress. If they had shown their sympathy for the sufferers by contributing each one week's pay, it would have made over $13,000. There are plenty of wealthy men in and around Washington who could have given $20,000 without depriving themselves of even a luxury of life. The Congressmen chose to keep their own money, which, if reports be true, some of them spend not very creditably; and the people about Washington, no doubt, applauded you for relieving them from the necessity of giving by giving what was not yours to give. The people have delegated to Congress, by the Constitution, the power to do certain things. To do these, it is authorized to collect and pay moneys, and for nothing else. Everything beyond this is usurpation, and a violation of the Constitution."

I have given you an imperfect account of what he said. Long before he was through, I was convinced that I had done wrong. He wound up by saying:

"So you see, Colonel, you have violated the Constitution in what I consider a vital point. It is a precedent fraught with danger to the country, for when Congress once begins to stretch its power beyond the limits of the Constitution, there is no limit to it, and no security for the people. I have no doubt you acted honestly, but that does not make it any better, except as far as you are personally concerned, and you see that I cannot vote for you."

I tell you I felt streaked. I saw if I should have opposition, and this man should go talking, he would set others to talking, and in that district I was a gone fawn-skin. I could not answer him, and the fact is, I did not want to. But I must satisfy him, and I said to him:

"Well, my friend, you hit the nail upon the head when you said I had not sense enough to understand the Constitution. I intended to be guided by it, and thought I had studied it full. I have heard many speeches in Congress about the powers of Congress, but what you have said there at your plow has got more hard, sound sense in it than all the fine speeches I ever heard. If I had ever taken the view of it that you have, I would have put my head into the fire before I would have given that vote; and if you will forgive me and vote for me again, if I ever vote for another unconstitutional law I wish I may be shot."

He laughingly replied:

"Yes, Colonel, you have sworn to that once before, but I will trust you again upon one condition. You say that you are convinced that your vote was wrong. Your acknowledgment of it will do more good than beating you for it. If, as you go around the district, you will tell people about this vote, and that you are satisfied it was wrong, I will not only vote for you, but will do what I can to keep down opposition, and, perhaps, I may exert some little influence in that way."

"If I don't," said I, "I wish I may be shot; and to convince you that I am in earnest in what I say, I will come back this way in a week or ten days, and if you will get up a gathering of the people, I will make a speech to them. Get up a barbecue, and I will pay for it."

"No, Colonel, we are not rich people in this section, but we have plenty of provisions to contribute for a barbecue, and some to spare for those who have none. The push of crops will be over in a few days, and we can then afford a day for a barbecue. This is Thursday; I will see to getting it up on Saturday week. Come to my house on Friday, and we will go together, and I promise you a very respectable crowd to see and hear you."

"Well, I will be here. But one thing more before I say good-bye. I must know your name."

"My name is Bunce."

"Not Horatio Bunce?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mr. Bunce, I never saw you before, though you say you have seen me; but I know you very well. I am glad I have met you, and very proud that I may hope to have you for my friend. You must let me shake your hand before I go."

We shook hands and parted.

It was one of the luckiest hits of my life that I met him. He mingled but little with the public, but was widely known for his remarkable intelligence and incorruptible integrity, and for a heart brimful and running over with kindness and benevolence, which showed themselves not only in words but in acts. He was the oracle of the whole country around him, and his fame had extended far beyond the circle of his immediate acquaintance. Though I had never met him before, I had heard much of him, and but for this meeting it is very likely I should have had opposition, and had been beaten. One thing is very certain, no man could now stand up in that district under such a vote.

At the appointed time I was at his house, having told our conversation to every crowd I had met, and to every man I stayed all night with, and I found that it gave the people an interest and a confidence in me stronger than I had ever seen manifested before.

Though I was considerably fatigued when I reached his house, and, under ordinary circumstances, should have gone early to bed, I kept him up until midnight, talking about the principles and affairs of government, and got more real, true knowledge of them than I had got all my life before.

I have told you Mr. Bunce converted me politically. He came nearer converting me religiously than I had ever been before. He did not make a very good Christian of me, as you know; but he has wrought upon my mind a conviction of the truth of Christianity, and upon my feelings a reverence for its purifying and elevating power such as I had never felt before.

I have known and seen much of him since, for I respect him – no, that is not the word – I reverence and love him more than any living man, and I go to see him two or three times every year; and I will tell you, sir, if everyone who professes to be a Christian lived and acted and enjoyed it as he does, the religion of Christ would take the world by storm.

But to return to my story. The next morning we went to the barbecue, and, to my surprise, found about a thousand men there. I met a good many whom I had not known before, and they and my friend introduced me around until I had got pretty well acquainted – at least, they all knew me.

In due time notice was given that I would speak to them. They gathered around a stand that had been erected. I opened my speech by saying:

"Fellow citizens – I present myself before you today feeling like a new man. My eyes have lately been opened to truths which ignorance or prejudice, or both, had heretofore hidden from my view. I feel that I can today offer you the ability to render you more valuable service than I have ever been able to render before. I am here today more for the purpose of acknowledging my error than to seek your votes. That I should make this acknowledgment is due to myself as well as to you. Whether you will vote for me is a matter for your consideration only."

I went on to tell them about the fire and my vote for the appropriation as I have told it to you, and then told them why I was satisfied it was wrong. I closed by saying:

"And now, fellow citizens, it remains only for me to tell you that the most of the speech you have listened to with so much interest was simply a repetition of the arguments by which your neighbor, Mr. Bunce, convinced me of my error.

"It is the best speech I ever made in my life, but he is entitled to the credit of it. And now I hope he is satisfied with his convert and that he will get up here and tell you so."

He came upon the stand and said:

"Fellow citizens – It affords me great pleasure to comply with the request of Colonel Crockett. I have always considered him a thoroughly honest man, and I am satisfied that he will faithfully perform all that he has promised you today."

He went down, and there went up from the crowd such a shout for Davy Crockett as his name never called forth before.

I am not much given to tears, but I was taken with a choking then and felt some big drops rolling down my cheeks. And I tell you now that the remembrance of those few words spoken by such a man, and the honest, hearty shout they produced, is worth more to me than all the honors I have received and all the reputation I have ever made, or ever shall make, as a member of Congress.

"Now, Sir," concluded Crockett, "you know why I made that speech yesterday. I have had several thousand copies of it printed and was directing them to my constituents when you came in.
"There is one thing now to which I will call your attention. You remember that I proposed to give a week's pay. There are in that House many very wealthy men – men who think nothing of spending a week's pay, or a dozen of them for a dinner or a wine party when they have something to accomplish by it. Some of those same men made beautiful speeches upon the great debt of gratitude which the country owed the deceased – a debt which could not be paid by money, particularly so insignificant a sum as $10,000, when weighed against the honor of the nation. Yet not one of them responded to my proposition. Money with them is nothing but trash when it is to come out of the people. But it is the one great thing for which most of them are striving, and many of them sacrifice honor, integrity, and justice to obtain it."

There's No Place Like Home...

My refugees have departed. Off to sleep in their own beds again. We know they have electricity and hope the water is back up by now.

As for me, I really enjoyed having that time with my sister and her family. Now that they know how to get to my house, maybe they'll come visit more often...

Oh, and I learned last night that I am the proud winner of the Second Amendment Target and will be the third stop on its tour of America. If you don't know what I'm talking about, stay tuned... you too may be a winner!