Thursday, December 31, 2009
This is what I was dealing with as I did so...thankfully, the ancient camera doesn't take sound so you cannot hear me chanting "give me the crazy chicken...chicken...CHICKEN!"
Nor the ending of "don't take the stuffing out, you fool!"
Ranger - 98 pounds of sheer love and torment. As for the yard? Mudpit. The upside down pool served to protect the worst corner - it needs to be moved again. Sigh...an ugly terrible mudpit.
Except for the lettuce. Sorta. Can you see the mess just near the remnants? I KNOW! It's a really sad little lettuce patch but it is still going strong!
And yes, so are the radishes...and the oregano. A second lettuce patch is coming up, too.
Enjoy this snippet of my NYE fun. If it makes you feel any better something bit the shit out of my thumb as I tried to get the lettuce. Ants, probably. Payback is definitely due.Meanwhile, I think I shall pour a glass of something. Of course Trooper's working. They all are. Except the new Corporal. Hmmmm. Oh, well. If it all goes well, Ranger may just have some company soon...professional company. Keep your fingers crossed and prayers said. And please - stay safe and happy this evening!!
Monday, December 28, 2009
"Violence has erupted at most of the EDL's demonstrations. In total, nearly 200 people have been arrested and an array of weapons has been seized, including knuckledusters, a hammer, a chisel and a bottle of bleach."
Those are weapons. There. Now. How long before we are brought to that same low standard? Well, perhaps not those of us watching for it...
Friday, December 25, 2009
I take a moment to think of them...
It's late and I know I ought to be in bed. An early rising, a dish to prepare and then a drive to see family...It was difficult to get in the spirit of things this year - starting too late to be much good. I rely on the hope that friends know I love them even if the wrapping is late.
I love that new header - a delightful drawing by Sulamith Wulfing. It is precisely what I feel about the holiday. Perhaps a bit too Scandihoovian for some, and a bit arcane. But I love it all the same. That kind of peace - that acceptance that the child you feel yourself to be will still be present in the crone that you will become. I believe that will be true. I hope so.
I wish, sometimes, that it was like this - still...innocent of so much. Simpler. And I think that shall have to be my motto in the days to come. Pare back, downsize, be glad for the simpler things and surround myself with them. Perhaps that innocence will wend its way to me.
Now, this is a bit of fun and lighter fare - I have to say I love how he shakes that tail like a stripper at 2:45a, eeking out that last dollar bill. Wait - that wasn't terribly holy, was it? Sigh...well, so it goes. This one courtesy of those guys.
It takes one hell of a pilot to fly that "badly". I know my taildragger friends will give it a special glowering eye.
Oh, Merry Christmas to all of you, you delightful few - my dear friends.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
This is a really fascinating bit of science - real science - on the matter.
Back in the day I hunted weather across the states. I was rather familiar with clouds and their impact on the weather. It was unmistakable, and is so to anyone - even a child. What disturbed me during a visit here with this man was his absolute resolve about "warming". There was no argument permitted, no discussion at all because HE was a SCIENTIST. He just KNEW and there was no reason to bother trying to explain it to dumb little people like me. He turned his back, sat at his SparcStation and I knew...
It was in that moment that I saw the truth in this: people staked careers on the thing. Their income. Their entire persona was wrapped up in this belief and to look at it from any other angle would be to deny themselves of themselves.
I've always felt that we could certainly muck up an environment - that is a simple enough fact. But a planet? A system that we cannot possibly comprehend since we don't even know what lies under the entire skin of the thing? What forces are at work below us? What of the continuously expanding volcanic activity the last decade?
Too, a daily visit here always reminds me that what we have - what is under our feet - is a very brief oasis. We are fools to just stand on the crust and imagine it will last as it has been for the last thousand years. Better if we were to start kicking off this dust and finding a few alternatives in the galaxy. Maybe not as kind, perhaps hardly even tolerable in comparison to this glorious idyll. But it is either that or agree that we, too, are temporary. That humans ought to just go quietly when this world fades. And it WILL fade.
When I was quite young it seemed to me a foolish thing that adults knew of this fact and yet did nothing. And we do nothing even now. We hunt among our closest companions using the most crude methods of propulsion and imagine that it will help.
I'd always thought we'd be past that by now...but I suppose we are still in our cradle, playing with our loud toys and thinking we know our world, entire.
H/T re: video - Ghost
Monday, December 21, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
And this? That unholy trinity never so obvious as in this little heartrending snippet of their lives...
Her beauty and her beast each giving her what they could for those 8 minutes. Even if it cost them...
Friday, December 18, 2009
How many years gone? A decade...
My slow workday permitted musical distraction and a soundtrack crept up on me. I'd forgotten so much. Or allowed it to slip aside for sanity's sake. Either, neither, both.
It's a terrific movie - but not if you want something simple and, well, American. But if you like...something different...do try it on for size. And do not miss out on the soundtrack. Perfect for that certain evening...
Wish (Komm zu mir)
Somebody Has To Pay
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
But what about after the holiday? In other words - What About Me?! Or, as it were, You?
Well, if you are in the Austin area, consider this...
BookPeople would like to thank all our loyal customers and friends with a
special New Year's Day discount. From 11 AM until 11 PM, almost everything in
the store is 20% off. CUSTOMER APPRECIATION DAY, all day on January 1st,
It's an interesting shop, right in the middle of town and near some nice shopping so one could have quite the diverting expedition. (Ed, they also host a great many author events there...hint, hint...)
If you're looking to get anything at a good price, this is the day and the place to do it!
Monday, December 14, 2009
I was the best prepared and trained person in that class. (I shot this - loaned by a dear friend.)
Yeah, I know. Damned frightening to be honest with y'all. Of a row of about 5 people NONE knew (or at least practiced) indexing during the range test. The class boss and RO had to tell them no less than 3 times to stop it or go to the back of the class.
My only issues? Forgot the Safety step on the first shot (and I'd had issues with that during my test run the day before - "Go equals Safety Off!") and then, in the 5 rapid fire I limp wristed shot #2 and it was a flier. Otherwise? A 245 out of 250. And just before the last series my friend (an RO that day) stepped close and whispered "you already passed". I grinned like a moron.
There were a few things I would have done differently if I were them but the overall experience was good - very professional, very organized, very adult - as in they did not speak to us as though we were fragile children.
Now...I have to wash my boots - again - that were mired in mud at the range. As was my truck...thank goodness for 4WD. Just have to wait on the state. But yes, it may be that Trooper can find out who gets my packet and ensure it gets moved on out. They have been seriously inundated with them and there IS a backlog. But you'd be amazed at how much detail they have to work on for each packet - during work hours while also getting their job done.
I'll be happy to get my card by springtime.
Which - ahem - may be the time I finally manage to get my Springfield. Damn It.
(Yeah, I know. If you want the best, you get to wait for it.)
Still, I rock, you know.
Just thought it needed sayin'.
Friday, December 11, 2009
The place, now, is unfamiliar to me - so much more gentrified than ever it was in my day. Rather, it was dank, dangerous, and far too often uncomfortably cold in the winter. The landlord was cheap and the coal that was stuffed into that basement was metered out in a miserly fashion. Our 2nd floor apartment did not have the benefit of rising heat like those at the top. What came from the few aging radiators was sporadic at best. Hardly enough to thaw the mittens we stored there after play.
We were so young, my brother and I, that we didn't really notice it most of the time. One slept in thermals or flannel nightgowns, huddled under the blankets. You would wake to frost on the inside of the window pane, the single and ancient glass hardly sufficient against that kind of weather. I used to get up in the night and trace that feathery ice foliage with a finger, or blow warm breath on it to melt a spot away. The daylight rendered it mundane but in the night it was like a fairy tale world.
My mother would sometimes try to reach the owner, force him to understand that it was not for her but for her kids that the heat needed to be turned on. Indeed, he would wait far into the season before starting up that furnace. But she also knew that pressing a man that could put her and five kids out in winter was a dangerous thing. It was a kind of internecine war she fought. It was a battle she fought for many years and I think it made her old far too soon.
Once, when it was unbearably freezing - perhaps he was on vacation - mom had us all make beds in the kitchen, that oven set to warm the room, the door to it opened. She put blankets at every entry to keep that heat inside that room. It was so very cozy...I can recall that there was a kind of golden glow in the room...and we all managed to live until the morning and the hot oatmeal that was our winter staple.
I walked a rather long way to school - compared to today's kids - trudging along in the street where the cars had knocked the snow down a bit. Most of the sidewalks did not get shoveled. You dodged to the walk when the slush was tossed by the wheels then plodded onward. I don't really recall being overly cold on those walks. Sometimes it was quite nice - bracing, one might say. Crystalline cracking snow...blue, almost.
But mostly it was a trial, that cold. How long did we have to wait outside before they'd open the school doors where we could start to thaw? Would they make us go outside for recess? (Of course they would - they needed a break, too.) Did my gloves thaw and dry in the cloak room or would they become icy weights by the time I got home, useless and chilling my hands more than they'd be if bare.
How I laughed that one time - we'd moved ever so briefly to Virginia - when they closed the schools because there were flurries. Flurries. I got on the bus, so much more mature than the giggling kids, and mentally mocked their pleasure with my city girl disdain.
I haven't lived in that kind of cold since. I love to visit the snow. There is a part of me that needs that chill, that crunch under foot. I require that inhalation of icy needles to be happy. I haven't been in over 3 years, I suppose. There is a kind of...mourning...as if that season moves on without me. It doesn't need me to continue its frost and thaw.
But I need it.
Without that deathly freeze the spring doesn't rise in a soul...or so it seems to me.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Yes, this is the back door entry point and the sacrificial towel for Ranger's large paws. A week of rain and cold ensured it was put to use. As were a number of other mud towels...my sister laughed at how well he knows to stop there and wait as each paw is wiped. Sometimes he bristles at the delay, allowing you the rear two but wanting to go-go-go with the front two.
Of course, he sometimes has to hide his rawhide bone overnight and retrieve it, nicely seasoned, in the morning. Each episode demands one look carefully because that front left is going to be needing more work. I love to give him the "Were you digging?" admonishment - he immediately goes into the subdued and slightly apologetic stance. I imagine him thinking to himself, "Well, I am a dog, you know."
But now...now it's time to slip on the collar and take a walk in the rather chilly air to get the mail. It gets us out of the house, anyway. And his friend, Cowboy The Cat, always tags along. It must look silly - the giant dog and the wee cat prancing down the road together...
Their ketchup is the best made and their canned goods definitely superior. Their fire roasted versions are definitely worth stocking in the larder. Can't wait to get mine!
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
I have to remind myself daily of that. I try to really bring to mind those things I have and am permitted. I look at that deposit and know that it is very good money for what I am asked to do. But the rainy, cold weather and my persistent sickness makes it hard to be...optimistic. (Add in that all the fun people are gone and I am left with the "Socialist And Proud Of It" or the "I'm A Dumb Blonde Ruining The Lives Of My Kids" to converse with. No more snarky jokes. No more support of my anarchy. It is very quiet.
Then there is the surprise Saturday obligation - getting my CHL - that Trooper sprung on me. I am not ready. I haven't shot the loaned AMAZING 1911 in a month. (Seriously - it is an absolutely perfectly tuned weapon.) I am concerned about doing well under pressure. I am afraid I will perform badly in front of staff that know my friends and Trooper very well. I don't want to embarrass them. So it means tonight and every night this week I have to cram - I need to know that gun intimately so that I can do it right the first time. Irked, yes. But proud a little that they think I am good enough to do it cold. Still...it gnaws at my "I hate to fail" foible and makes me blink hard against it.
So I was surprised at how comforted I was just now with the most simple of things - homemade organic raspberry jam. I know! It's red stuff with annoying seeds (because I don't own a chinois). But...it absolutely floods you with the scent and flavor of perfect berries. I had prepared it with far less sugar than the packet of pectin advised so it isn't cloying. It also isn't very jellied because of that. Instead, it just melts across the warm buttered toast and I can savor it...I ran my finger around the little container to get the last bits and thought about the beauty of those jewel-like things. Delicate, and so different in their organic form. A true gift of their whole goodness given to me to enjoy.
These small gifts serve to remind me - all of this commotion is really just inside me. I can choose to let it go, take a kind of zen view of things and let them roil past. It is only my need to fret that brings about these fears and trepidations.
To be more simple, more calm - that is what I ought to work on. Let go. Let be.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Friday, December 04, 2009
Second - no matter what the above implies, I love me a geek. Like these. It's lovely. Just lovely work.
Third - I was not aware of just how much the dog loves cold weather until the other evening. He took his antler chew bone (indestructible!) and was prancing, bronching, leaping and tossing it around in joy. Grunting was also heard. And then he did his mad-eyed tail-tucked run around the yard, dropping the antler right where he intended to stop and change direction, only to haul ass back with it. Over and over until he finally had to stop at the water bowl. He cracks me UP with that business. And so wolf-like the rattle of bone in his teeth...
Fourth - why does the moon have to be out on a perfect star gazing eve like that night was? The sky was lovely but...muted. Made me wish for Marfa again...
Fifth - just how bad is it when my biceps hurt from carrying two books around for 3 hours? Pitiful, sad pudgy arms...
Sixth - I love waffle fabric. LOVE. Thermals, you know? It's like being swaddled. Cozy, warm, soft...
Seventh - there is no seventh.
Eighth - people are all romantic all around of late. Even a dear friend is unable to escape it. It thrills me to pieces, hearing the news from him. I can't wait for it all to come out, eventually.
Ninth - why do those wacky Mormons all seem so damned nice?! I want to just smack their nicely coiffed and attired selves. And ask for makeup tips.
Tenth - I want to go shooting. I want my gun and I want to shoot it. MINE. This is the reason doing business with friends is difficult. But Trooper is on the job - I suspect it is only a matter of a few more weeks...but now he has scheduled my CHL for Saturday and I am NOT READY. (I don't like tests. Have I mentioned that? Hey - we can make that #7.)
Bonus: Trooper is off for the evening, blacksmithing. How's THAT for sexy? He stinks something wonderful after. Mmmmm....
"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody."
~ 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12
- Become a fan of PW.
- Desire a cookbook.
- Ask husband to attend event with you.
- Discover the event will take nearly 4 hours but only after you get there.
- Do Not Feed Him Before The Event - this is vital.
- Ensure he is already feeling under the weather.
- Have him wear his pinchy boots.
Forgive the editing of the photo - by the time we got to her, Trooper was NOT about to allow me my creative photo options that I'd had in mind to preserve our anonymity. Smile, click, let's go.
He was at least able to speak with the immediately recognizable MM - PW's husband. They chatted about the ranch and cattle. But he also had his holster on and had to wear his jacket the entire time and it got quite warm...
I don't know what to say about the signing. I was thrilled to be there. But the venue was too small, the crowd quite large, and there really ought to have been 2 sig - er - autographing events, I think, to allow not only the crowds of fans to adore her but to allow her a break. She was EXHAUSTED! I felt so badly that I just went through it in something of a blur. Like the photo, yes. I wanted to just let her get on with it and let the others - nearly another 50 - behind us get through. All told there had to have been over 500 people...
We paused at the end, giving her husband one of Ray's cards in case they ran into trouble on the road. He seemed genuinely appreciative though, like her, just damned tired. The kids were with her sister and she, too, seemed sincerely thankful for our sticking it through. She gave a perfect "thank you" and a "we know this sucked really bad" sort of wan smile. It helped me - Trooper was quite polite but nothing helped him until we got to the Waffle House - the only thing open on the way home. He figured it also had the highest odds of a fight which would allow him to let out some frustration. (I mock! Mostly.)
I'd write more about it but at this point it is likely best to let that sleeping dog lie - much like my bedraggled husband just now. As it is, I am no longer allowed to use the words book (now "large pamphlet with covers") or signing (now "make your mark"). It's best to just let it all go...and maybe make him that pot roast recipe...
My first sig - er - Make Your Mark event? Memorable. Let us suffice with that: Memorable.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
I am capable of making a meal from few ingredients, making do with very little, and I inherited my mother's hatred of waste. Trooper's grandfather used to, as a child, go to the woods with his friend and find the pine knots there. They would sell that fat wood to the housewives to start their kitchen fires. It wasn't much but it put a jingle in his pocket. It is that kind of drive to make it that has been bred out of the young. A mere generation - that's all it took.
When one sees the rare young person capable of taking care of themselves it truly is notable. That is a sad thing, indeed.
There is much more to say on the matter but I let the links above do the talking - they do it so much better than I...
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Well, fuck me running...as though that beast wasn't slick enough...huh. Must confirm this with my associate. [Wanders off, mumbling...]
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Just as I am rallying today Trooper wanes and falls victim to the same crap. Such is love, my darling... But he does not get to lay in bed. Paperwork is due tomorrow and he has evidence to process and the papers to get across the county before midnight. At least tomorrow he can sleep all the day long. It isn't much but it's all I've got to comfort him.
I grow melancholy with the season, not really wishing to do more than wander through the rooms. I tire of my work, more behind than ever, and threatened there with foolish warnings if I do not rehash my every task in their bloody horrid database. If we delivered that piece of shit to a client they'd sue us. So...tomorrow I have to set my mouth and just do it, trying to decide if I can wait until the new year to cash out the 401k - if it will lose much in the interim. I figure if I wait to toss it onto the next tax year I might get out of it entirely. Assuming the inevitable failure, of course. Would utter collapse be worthwhile if it ended the IRAsses?
I watched people this weekend at the fair, thinking about how they would all end badly...so many trust that their kind, public thievery and redistribution will buy them a Get Out Of Gang Rape Free card. They will feed on you, mad fools. And how can you not see it? My eyes shifted away, blinking, trying to put on a smile over the hot cider. I felt a kind of motherly sympathy for them, the unwitting. Trooper and I shared a bit of derision as a father kindly explained that the horses were going to dig up the field. Even the mules on the team snorted at him. Is that how far we have come from it?
We watch from our soft perch discussions on tactics, mechanics of this rifle against another, review historic battles and modern warfare. Every moment is spent trying to learn something that might help. And even with all that - all that information - I know that I am still a helpless infant against what will come. I shall do better than most but I think it will not end well. And I worry about it, sometimes.
I press him about the gifts, trying to find the right ones for those young and promising friends. We've no children to spoil and so take on those, getting what might help in those coming days...buying larger for the growing to come...
I want to tell the families - do not spend anything on us but instead on yourself. A weapon, ammunition, food or gas. Whatever suits you best. But it seems rude...not all of them know...or are ready to consider it, whole. At what point is it socially acceptable to rip off a blindfold and show them what you see as truth?
We think of his family, of his old homestead still far enough in the hills that the young men would try to hold it. Wonder if it'd be better to arrange a slot there...but Atlanta is too close. Much too close. No, it's better here. Safer, here. And so we begin to look, again, for the land that is just right. The water, the terrain, the population, and the accessibility. And that is where the money will have to go. An investment in survival.
Along with all this the old carols ring...the season should bring more than just this chill. I tell myself it is just the flesh aging, a protest against this quarter. But something seats deep in my bones and bids me watch. Watch and wait. And in the corner of my eye she wears the blackest feathers, sharp fingers tapping impatiently.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Yes, I've been brought low with a bad cold/sinus infection/attack from the planet Mucus. (Yeah, thanks for sharing, eh?) It began late Tuesday. Wednesday morning I was hardly able to get around. Never mind cooking...I completely forgot the pineapple cheese casserole (!!) and Trooper had to make the sweet potato fluff under my nasal-y direction.
I stood back at the dinner, trying hard to not touch ANYTHING but my own plate and glass. I begged off of any affections. I felt utterly useless on the one day that I am usually joyfully cooking, serving and tasting of the abundance...sadly, I could only eat for the sake of civility, making kind remarks while tasting nothing so much as my cough drops.
It was a long day and I was so happy to get to bed. But sleep avoided me. If it wasn't my choking every hour, it was the damn cat trying to sleep on me -whichever side I proferred. Mind you, he's a honking beast of at least 15 pounds. He and I turned round and round in misery, sleeping perhaps 4 hours. And then there was the fair the next day...
I really should have begged off and stayed home. I don't know what I was thinking. But we'd planned the visit for so long...I was certain I'd feel better on - what? - day 3...I wandered the festival, looking at all manner of things but finally could do no more. I found a bench and fell onto it, waiting for Trooper to haul me off to the car, leaving our friends...
I did at least sleep but...I want nothing so much as to just peel off my face and hose out the innards. I will have to put the damned machine to use. (The usual sinus meds give me the worst head creeps and jitters. I cannot stand them.)
No pumpkin pie, no smoked turkey, no cranberry sauce nor chutney...it was all the same bland pablum. What a terrible fate for a cook...
However, I hope the rest of you had a terrific crud-free holiday. Stay safe...
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
From Billy, back in November of 2006...
"...What you're seeing tonight is only a rehearsal for full-blast civil war in America. Now, it breaks my heart to have to tell you this, and I don't want to see that any more than you do, but there can be no other natural course of these affairs. Sooner or later, that's what it's coming to. And I want you to remember me, Melissa: the kook who told you this back in 2006. Okay?"
Sigh...I wonder if that young Melissa remembers that night, now.
"If you have knowledge, let others light their candles at it."
But even so...even so...it was the place I went to when I'd recovered myself. After all the drama, all the tears, and recriminations...after that madness was danced with and whirled away. I was the healthiest I'd ever been. So I let myself go there, alone this time, to celebrate.
Everytime I drive into town I see that front range peeking and we greet each other with released breath. That is a view not often noted, the Flat Irons stealing the show easily. One has to turn away from them in that meadow to see the undulating hills. And nestled below that town...
I was perhaps 15 the first time I saw it. Visiting my sister in a nearby town, her friend took me there to see the mountains. I was a city girl, entirely. The plains that skirt that range did not look that different - though the air certainly was. But we drove toward that town and my eyes widened. They beg you to come, keep coming, to climb and know them. And so we did, driving to Boulder Falls and (as they allowed it long ago) climbed behind and above them to where the fall was a mere trickling stream.
I remember looking up and up and seeing specks against that rock and having the sudden realization that those were people climbing up there. I hadn't a moment of vertigo before that moment but suddenly it came over me in a wave and I had to put my hands to those rocks to regain my senses.
Those rocks...I do not know what is there that meshes so with my soul. I have a courage and a strength there. I am often self-doubting and trying to work out Plan A, B and C before doing anything. But in those rocks, that air...I just Do.
I'll get there again this winter. I swear it - my feet will pattern that frosty meadow again. I just need to be patient. Not my strong point, no. I have to trust it Will Be. Because I need that place in me. I need that internal exhalation of soul. I need to let it all go even if only for a day.
There's a long night coming...I might not get another chance for a very long time.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Strange, though - we are like enough to be sisters. I saw in that photo myself at about 26...very weird. They say we each have a twin in the world...
Friday, November 13, 2009
I have, for many years, found it astounding how so many religions across so many centuries have so many common stories and backgrounds. "Hang he pah du rootless tree" easily translated over to a crucifix much later. An ancient triskele becomes a four-legged cross which survived around the world across many ages only to be snatched up as a symbol of German wretchedness. And, it would seem, a taste for blood and dominion was substantiated by a wholesale retelling of a "savior" story.
All these things across all the ages in the name of a God or Gods which none can ensure await them after this path ends. It is faith only that supports them and I am always amazed at what it allows people to survive. Faith alone can move us from the very edge of our lives back to a center. But that faith can be turned by a crafty individual to serve his own purpose. Because it helps to have something concrete to put ones faith in.
My opinion of Islam? An utter sham suited to ensure the pyramid scheme of power continues unabated. Is there a way to find "agreement"? No. The very tenets demand nothing less than our adherence or death. There are no other "outs". Well, that of slavery and tithing for survival.
Does that mean I wish to place them all in a compound? No. However, it does make me itch to thank them all for their time, cash them out and send them back home with a pat on the fanny. Been swell, adios. Happy to deal with you - from a generous distance. Anything less is accepting a risk - a guaranteed risk - that you will have to one day submit or die. "Moderates" will say that there is an option - that the religion isn't so damning. But the religion also states that it's alright to lie, to hide, to deny all if it means the desired end is met. Therefore, no protestations can be trusted on their face.
This also means that we've no business meddling in their affairs. Go home, do whatever you like - there. We will leave you to your advancements or steady decline. It has been our bane that we feel the need to "save" people from themselves. One can extend that all the way back home to the welfare state. Once upon a time stupid people failed. It hurt, usually. And they learned. The removal of that failure, that pain, is what has made this country what it is today.
I know these opinions are not popular. I am confident an educated person could argue me to death over them. But I do not try to wash it over with any manner of "my religion is better than yours" dogma. I know merely what they say. I know them by their acts. I understand their commandments. And I weary of those who will gloss them over with a parental kindness and slap of a wrist and a "they'll grow out of it" mentality. Fine, let them. Just not here, not among us, and let us not be the lab for their explosive experiments in higher learning.
We've our own growing pains to attend to, after all. No?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I wonder what would happen if fifty million Americans just got up and
started for Washington D.C., by any means necessary, arrived there by car,
train, bus, plane, on foot, and went straight to the Capitol, as many
entering the building as could fit, and then just tore every stick of
furniture out of the two chambers and took it outside and burned
Would the people who made this horror get that? Would they get the
No. They'd bring marshmallows and gin, and smile - "we're through with that facade anyway".
At about 1:30, I was sitting on the front row of the theater on the far left side. A side entrance to the theater was located directly to my left about three feet away. I heard three or four muffled “pops” and thought it sounded a little odd. Suddenly, the door near me flew open and a man fell into the theater with a gunshot wound in his back. I started for the man to see what was wrong but two NCO’s jumped up and grabbed the man and laid him on the edge of the stage. One of them shouted “Are there any medical personnel in the building?” Two of the graduates ran to the stage, threw off their caps and gowns and began treating the man as best they could. They announced that his wound was not life threatening. As the man was being loaded onto a stretcher, five or six heavily armed civilian security personnel entered the back of the auditorium with their rifles and pistols pointing upwards. One of them shouted that everyone should take a seat immediately, and believe me, that happened very quickly.
They asked that all senior NCO’s in the building proceed to one of the eight entry doors in the building, and again, that was done immediately. Once the security guys ascertained that the wounded man being removed from the stage would survive, they walked across the front of the stage and slowly opened a door on the opposite side of the auditorium—one which opened out onto a parking lot that separated the Howze Theater from the Soldiers Dome where the rest of the shooting occurred. We could hear rapid gunfire coming across the parking lot. One of the security guys again shouted a request for any doctors and nurses in attendance, and about 15 people immediately moved to the door where the security guys were standing. I heard one of the security folks tell the assembled medical personnel that there were many wounded people in the adjacent building, and that they were needed to help out. The medical people were told to follow the security guys, keep low, and move quickly without stopping. There was no hesitation on their part, they just moved out to do their jobs.
[...] One interesting thing about all this—about an hour after the shooting died down, the loud speakers all over the base started playing the old Cavalry bugle call called “Recall.” I have never heard that on an active duty base before, but apparently the soldiers knew what it meant, that they were to drop what they were doing and return to their units.
As for this day? Perhaps just as well to revisit the words of a favorite man...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Friday, November 06, 2009
And yes - how was it possible that no one called her out on the first of those blatant infractions? C'mon! I know squat about the sport but I DO know when someone tagteams to trip someone and set up a lovely kick to the skull. Or were they waiting for someone to spit out blood and teeth before being stirred to action?
Oh, let me guess - she knows who she has to blow in this game.
Kudos to BYU for keeping it clean. For being Ladies.
FYI if you are sending anything abroad...
Recommended holiday mailing dates released for Afghanistan -- [Bagram Airfield - in Afghanistan]The U.S. Postal Service announced its recommended mailing dates for delivery by Christmas to U.S. military servicemembers serving overseas at APO/FPO addresses in Afghanistan.Holiday mail send via First-Class Mail and Priority Mail for servicemembers stationed in Afghanistan should be sent by Dec. 4, 2009 for arrival by Christmas, according to Postal Service officials. The deadline for Parcel Airlift Mail is Dec. 1, 2009, Space Available Mail is Nov. 21, 2009 and Parcel Post is Nov. 13, 2009. Express Mail cannot be used to mail packages to Afghanistan, however Priority Mail is available.
(Get to knittin', C!)
Otherwise, G'bless you all for all the hazards faced - home and abroad.
Monday, November 02, 2009
This bit of work set me on my heels and made me ever so pleased to have stored what we DO have. And gets the wind in my sails on the rest of the things we simply must do and soon.
That 401k? Soon to be worthless? It's going to be turned into land, seed, and silver. It must. I cannot see anything else possible no matter what happens to that horrid usurper. I needed it put in these terms to see it whole.
Look at it. Just look at it and see the end of days in a very material, matter of fact manner.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
As McCain says - doesn't matter what the vote was for - this is a straight in your face "Fuck You and Your Vote, Minion". Only thing is that rat bastard did it on-air and live. Smirking. At least he had the balls for that.
Once upon a time, you mattered to the process. No longer - the only thing about you that matters is the sweat from your brow, paying them to do this to you. You are paying a pimp to beat the holy fuck out of you every single day. And I am sorry - dreadfully sorry - about that. I wish it was different. I wish I was wrong and you could feel like you could change it. But the only thing you can do is starve them out. And that...well, even I am not up to that battle. Not yet.
These videos are just a small glimpse of what goes on...it is mind shatteringly labyrinthine. And yet these glimpses are the truest view of their mutual soul. All of them working in concert...to a certain end.
I love how Yon is able to take such impeccable angles - he truly gets the action in the shot in a way that conveys the movement and urgency. And he has always done an amazing job that goes unreported in MSM - because he doesn't play the game. I like that his opinion is formed from reality and experience.
Now, we just need to find that boy a suitable swimming hole...
Friday, October 23, 2009
I was happy to read about their Survial Straps for Soldiers holiday project. If you know someone who already has everything, maybe purchase a half dozen of these in their honor. Or perhaps to honor a fallen friend or mentor.
The fact that a portion goes to the Wounded Warrior Project just puts the icing on the cake.
"However, the President also singled out the American Constitution: "... the Constitution allows for many things, but what it does not allow is the most revealing. The so-called Founders did not allow for economic freedom. While political freedom is supposedly a cornerstone of the document, the distribution of wealth is not even mentioned. While many believed that the new Constitution gave them liberty, it instead fitted them with the shackles of hypocrisy.' "
Hold that up against the lovely work from Brigid.
How easily that concept rolled from his mind to his fingers to his this-very-day-ability to perform same - distribution of wealth. It is the cornerstone of their facade. Remove it - give them no access to our largesse - and the thing topples. Oh, one can dream...
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
But it was my missing the news here, being away from it for long and long, that made me remember when I was in the midst of that travail.
It had been a difficult marriage - a lot of giving, patience expended, a lot of unease and fear for the future...but I'd remained in it. I left my job of 10 years to work on that marriage and, the day I started my new time off, I found the receipt for the flowers, purchased in another state. Not for me, no.
He returned a day after and there was a kind of surreal quality to the meeting. I was still in stunned dismay and a kind of disbelief that this was my life. He was trying to speak as though it was all perfectly natural and logical and it simply was Not. I couldn't even speak. I was so deep in the anger and pain that I could not form words but only crashed against a handy wall, trying to express that dismay and terror in hoarse cries and screams. I imagine the vision of myself now and it must have been a sight. I know it frightened him. It frightened me.
Indeed, I was the Fixer. Give me a problem and I'll get it taken care of. But I couldn't fix this because he simply didn't want me to. I'd been lost before but it was after this that I could not...there was no way to Be Me. What I was and knew was over. For a few months I wandered around in my life, blessed to have only a cat to worry about. No job, no kids, nothing but breathing. And so it was - breathing and apple sauce. It was the only thing I could keep down.
But one day I saw outside in my beloved swing - the one thing he left me with that I truly could touch and consider real - and it came to me that the sun was shining, birds still sang and all that was - well, it simply Was. And all I had was this - the moment in front of me and what I did with it.
Oh, there are other tales associated with it - petty squanderings of youth and soul, certainly. But I moved through it. It did not win.
I still consider that moment - that screaming voice. It echoes through me and always will, I think. Ripples in the pond of my life, reaching out to infinity.
Friday, October 09, 2009
"Well, Norman Thomas (1884-1968) was a leading American socialist, pacifist, and six-time presidential candidate for the Socialist Party of America. ...He was also active in setting up the American Civil Liberties Union."
Do you see now how it has all been manipulated for a very long time? Longer than some of us have been alive? That is how the thing has infiltrated every single aspect of our lives. Patiently, carefully, strategically. I never would have given them credit for intelligence but they damned well know how to execute a plan.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Saturday, October 03, 2009
"I haven't felt safe a single day in my entire life."
Imagine that. Not one day without fear, trepidation, worry..."...no hero in her skies..."
I went from an ancient brownstone and concrete playgrounds to thickly tree'd land and sweltering skies. We arrived at night - I liked to watch the moon through the windows as we'd driven long and long but I'd fallen asleep. Mom woke us quietly, perhaps hoping we'd remain mostly asleep so she need do more than fall into bed herself.
That first scent - I still remember it - full of decaying leaves, tinged with sweet perfume (orange blossoms next door, I learned in the morning). And salty...so much that you could feel it like a grit in the air, landing on your skin. And that air...like a warm touch on your skin, through your hair.
It was a place I grew to learn quite well in the few years we were permitted to remain there. I was so angry when we had to leave it. And for what? To return to that horrid place that had no soft breeze, no orange blossoms...
Ed posted this and it gave me a start. The memories rolled through...
I must have been 14 at the time. Already quite dissipated and disillusioned. I'd somehow managed to get to a carnival of some sort - one of those small affairs with very rickety rides and dangerous Carnies. The ferris wheel was absolutely malevolent. But then, I was not entirely sober at the time, either.
It was in that place I first heard that music and to this very day I get a deep sense of unease at it. It was precisely built, that music, those lyrics, to express the entirety of the mess that was Chicago. I know so many people who haven't any idea what it was like, living in that place in - if not squalor - constant danger. One had to always be aware of everything in your environment. Your body language alone could start a fight or seduce the undesirable. And heavens forfend you crossed that invisible line of turf. If you did not belong to a gang, it didn't really matter. They would take you as one might accept a smaller fish on a line when hungry.
And it has not improved. Nothing there has moved beyond that point. Oh, they managed to make the lakeshore tolerable but only because it increased a tax base. And they gave the schools new names - as though adding on a moniker like "metro science center" would change the number of assaults or cause those knives to be cast aside at the door.
I did not watch that video of the poor boy being murdered, casually, by other boys. It is worse than wild animals - animals are doing it for survival, not sport. And when children are so reduced in soul to find murder to be sporting? It makes me give due consideration to euthanasia. Do not suffer those children to live.
Ah, Chicago, raising vile, evil hoardes and then sending them out to...govern.
I was 16 when I left that place.
I have never returned.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Such good people...one only wishes that their sensibility would be more widespread. But at least we know they are ready, as are we.
Just look at that crate - made, I think, by an Eagle Scout as his project. He made a crate for several canning machines to ensure their safe transport as they make their way from one home to another church to yet another place where people believe in taking care of business.
We compared prices, sure. But there is no way to compete - they have entire farms working just to supply them with the goods they need and provide.
Provide...at the cannery there is also the "pantry" - a kind of mini-grocery for those in the group who are are in need of a bit of charity in their lives. So clean, so quiet and just so...peaceful. And efficient. It shows what private charity can do that a government never can.
We appreciate what they do for us so very much. They'll do it for you, too, if you'd like. Just ask. (And no, you don't have to "drink the kool-aid".)
They'll start the interview process at the range. I think that precisely right. Particularly when one sees the stats for the skillbase in the field. Sad, really - I know I'd be a crack shot if that was MY job. At any rate, he'll be fine with that stage. He worries a bit about being out of shape but he isn't that far from it - his regimen of running will care for that in short order.
No, my concerns are more...pedestrian. Or, perhaps, civilian. Call outs mean separate vehicles everywhere, dog care could be more haphazard and may demand a coded door for him to use. And the unpredictable nature of the role...can we plan for anything? It's difficult. But...
That glint in his eye...that sudden pleasure in his work, again...and the natural stepping stone toward his final goal...all these things render my concerns moot. It's what he has worked all his days for, after all. To this end.
But that doesn't mean I can't be concerned for its impact on our life. It just means I have to find a way to deal with it. And I shall - I always have and always will. I've reminded him - good chocolate helps. And flowers. But I still reserve the right to pout, damn it. "I'll light their bloody candle but they'll damned well hear about the dark!"
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Strong! In Charge! Nice Suit (if somewhat empty)!
Oh dear...mmm-wah! mmm-wah! I am only a head with glossy, suhweet lips to suckle on you!
Hey - I don't really like any of it. My preference would be to crack this beotch into lovely regions so that one could actually choose to live in a place that meets your preference for freedom or the lack thereof. This, merely because I find it to be an impossible edit to the nation as it currently - er - well, if not stands, squats. Like a toad.
But can't we at least be honest about the whole affair? The media might as well cartoon in dicks on her face like some high school yearbook prank and move on. But it isn't like that anymore. The media is a very large cog in this Chicago Machine.
One hardly needs to look very far. Hell, one site alone...
From that self-same site which is one HELL of a good read for minds like mine that love connections...Holder Determines "secret" - and why the hell not? After all, he needs the details to defend his clients, right?
But nevermind alllll that. School's in session. Start learning.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
It's an amazing thing, really, reaching over and holding in ones hand something that tinkled in a bag on someones waist before Christianity had a namesake. You want to smell it, lick it, search for a remnant of that time. But its long lost, so many hands having done the same thing for so long.
I crave this one, though - the La Tène Period sword and scabbard. Or this strigil - which was nicely demonstrated in the series Rome, actually. I took deep personal pleasure in knowing what it was called. I'm a damned freak that way.
I love that these things have survived, have been saved and hoarded till now. And I want all of them, really, but I know - it'd be damned hard to leave it behind if circumstances demanded it. How was it others found a way to bring them forward? Just amazing...
Friday, September 18, 2009
- Ed has just been superb of late...no reason to point out just one post. Add him, read him. Nuff said.
- These folks make concealed carry items and - heh - there's a sale! Enter FALL09 to get a discount on your order. I know the argument can be made that they are a bit obvious to the knowledgable eye. Hell, I call that deterence.
- A couple of gals that have given me giggles this week when I was in dire need...
- Another Laura - not only do I want to "marry her and have her children©", she even has fabulously hilarious linkages on the margins. Damn it, she's good. And her list? #'s 15-18 are a complete resounding yes. (No worries - I like some kids - probably your kids if you are reading this because you aren't the type to raise bi-pedal vermin. Are you?)
- I found her here. A post there had me grimacing and giving it the pointed finger of YES!
- Trooper got to visit LaRue recently - what an amazing group of people there. The owner is one of those "give them the tools and let them do their job" kinds of bosses. He took a few minutes of his day to speak with him, and ensured he had the grand tour. DO get the screensaver - it rocks! (And pisses off any anti-gun coworkers. Bonus!)