Saturday, July 31, 2010
"It's a fence. Its real purpose -- in real-world, real-time reality -- is to halt people from crossing a border. A real border, mind you, although on that point I concede a border is a more abstract concept than, say, a shoe.
It doesn't symbolically represent a division between the countries. It actually is a division between the countries.
And what is wrong with that?
I'm noting this because a few weeks ago I saw a guy at the riots in Toronto who complained that the police barricades were a symbol representing a division between the protesters and the G-20 representatives.
And I thought, "Gee, no, actually it's not a symbol of a division; it really is, in fact, a physical division." Because, see, you're rioting. (And not symbolically in riot, either.) You can tell it's a real-world division because now you can't get to the G-20 conference center and throw rock-metaphors through the window-symbols."
As for the south? You would not believe the emails Trooper gets - the "Heads Up, Gentlemen" messages with photos attached. There is a reason I carry everywhere...
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Leave me an email address in the comments and I'll reach out...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
If you've been debating the process, stop - get the funds together and apply online (easier if you ask me than filling them out by hand). It is not that difficult. And very, very comforting to have that weapon with you everywhere...
I just wanted to let you know that I know but that I really like black and I really cannot code HTML nor fix the coded for dummies templates.
In short, I was once a hacker and am now a granny-like lamester. I've no business in this business. I'll just be over there, in the corner, dying quietly.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
It was our anniversary the other day and I'd managed to find just the thing for him...
Awhile back he'd emailed this fellow about a knife he'd always wanted. I don't think Trooper ever followed up on it - but I kept the information stashed away. It came in handy...
The gentleman was so kind...very no-nonsense but so very polite and highly responsive. I cannot say enough....if you are in the market for a very nice knife, please consider his offerings...
What's that? What did I get? Well, I told Trooper I want one of these. But he'll have to build it. For now I told him a wireless router would be fine...got this one. It is currently taking up space and blinking lights at me. But it isn't wirelessly functional. And I am no longer geeky enough to figure out why.
So...all in all it's been a nice anniversary this year. Now, if I can just get that damned router to work...
Here one can listen to him speak about that amazing tome.
Perhaps tomorrow evening I will revisit his poems that moved me enough to have me cart them across miles and decades. Tonight I've only time enough to give him a nod. He knows all the myths and their answers, now. How satisfied he must be...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
With malice and forethought.
Every one of them should, one day, face a real trial by live fire. Not face an innocent man who intended them no harm but deal with serious motherfuckers intent on them not going home again. Ever.
THAT might make clear to them who the enemy is. THAT might show them WHY people have the right to defend themselves any way they damned well prefer.
Furious...utterly furious that pieces of shit like those are permitted the honor of a badge when they have no honor. NONE. God help us if they have any kids. Can you imagine the morals those are being raised up with? Get a badge, make shit up, take what you want, and ruin a man. Because it's FUN! Giggle, snort.
BTW, I wonder how many rounds they've put through that man's weapons already? Or maybe they've been "lost"?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Do we allow them to sell our heritage? Or is it time for us to speak? To speak, to refuse them the right to give away our holy, or bountiful, our only England that has, that has nurtured us, naked, grown us as the oak. Is it time for us that England know to come yet again and defend our country? With our fire, our fists?Is it time for us sons to rise again?I say yes. I say yes. I say... Yes."
The Ghost, bless him ever, has given this to us.
Never think that you cannot be made to look just as criminal...stacking the decks of various forces is already taking place. Alliances made, training acquired...and all those good people will look around in terrible surprise to find themselves quite alone on that moral high ground.
Look, it's all in this whirlwind - this tempest - of winds loosed. No one knows how it will settle out. I've said long before that this electronic failsafe will be shut down. It must. These guys know it, too. As it says, have you printed out everything you need? Your BOB better not rely on thumbdrives.
Enjoy these quiet days before the rain/reign. Make them worth something.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Arrows flew through the superheated heat, his to their intended target, and my own often askew. Being new to the art I was trying too hard. Let the bow merely balance on your left hand, the arrow in the right fingers with hardly any touch. Above all, just bring it up and shoot - do not think it overmuch. Just up and gone with your mind setting it free more than your hands.
That natural skill is something that he has innately. His mind and soul were meant for the battle, his eye perfected for the target. This was apparent when I first met him and it was part of his charm. There was really nothing he feared and he never met a stranger. I would stand a bit apart and marvel at how he could just approach anyone and soon have them bent to his goodwill, ready to do what they could to help him.
I didn't know then - as I do now - why there was such fearlessness and fun in him. He told me only recently a story of a paved over length of equitorial land, and a kill zone for all those good men who were falling. Nothing for it - not for a man like him - but to get to work. Souls rended along with flesh and bone with enemy whirling away in wisps of smoke. A vision, a scent, that must never truly leave him but one that he could never really discuss. But time passes and eventually that invisible dateline is crossed and details can be touched then discarded for good.
For good. He thinks himself damned, I reckon, for the pitiless duty flown on brass. Me, I know better. He has another life and another war, another world and another love...men like him are meant to serve and are so few that they must always serve. They could no more lay down arms in a heaven clean and bright than they could surrender their honor. Oh, some R&R, perhaps. A time away. But there is good to be done. Forever. And some people are simply called to it, over and over again. Until we are all perfected.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Another rather slick little toy was this Snowday site where you can cut your own flake. Some are amazingly detailed and well-done. Winter in July? Or just revving up my intense need to crunch some damned snow this winter? Does it matter? It was fun.
And then there is this little addition to the household for 24 hours...
He's a rather geriatric fellow with gimpy hips so he held up as best he could under the torment of Kota and Ranger. Yeah, there's a female in the house but who does Ranger want to mount? Sigh...He has a thing for the old man, what can I say? You see that look? It says so clearly how tired he is of the unwanted advances, no?
It has been one long damned day of sickness and dog minding. I've battled this sinus infection for a week, now, and still feel like utter crap. And how in the hell does a body create THAT MUCH crud?! Seriously. I have run through an amazing amount of tissue AND paper towels. Um - TMI? Sorry.
Of course, all this business takes place while Trooper is working evenings, part-times and is otherwise sleeping. Oh, and very handsomely annihilating three different wasp nests - one of which required a hazardous and hot roof mounting that allowed very little in the way of emergency egress. This, after engaging in a soul killing and heat stroke inducing lawn care session.
Yes, I courted him with Gatorade and ice water every few minutes. But the thing that saves a marriage? Wet towels in the freezer, proffered all crispy with that thinnest layer of ice crackling when it meets that noble brow. Draped under his booney, they refreshed the exterior in a deliciously decadent manner.
Eh, what's that? I am the best wife evah? Well, perhaps...perhaps...we've seen enough contrast in other marriages to know that we don't want to be that way. If a cool towel can smooth a hard day I can surely manage it. Now, if I could just get him to waterboard me later, I might actually be able to breathe. True love, that.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I am confident it is posted hither and yon - I am just too undone right now to surf far from shore. But I wanted to merely note that her decorum, her refusal to let bullshit stand instead of facts, and her absolute trouncing of this moronic bimbo puts Megyn on my Save At All Costs list.
Think of it like that last chopper out of `Nam. She gets a seat. Period.
As for Kirsten? Something tells me she'll be moving on to MSNBC soon where her utter lack of facts and evidence will be cooed at and fondled. Fox doesn't need her.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The stuffed animal of this morning is now a beheaded and unstuffed remnant being traded back and forth until they get tired and lay down a bit. I think it's so darling how Ranger treats her, never letting her get the upper hand but taunting her with their pull toy, swinging it out of her grasp and tossing it in the air. They play their dominance games all day, finally tiring and settling for something of a stalemate with Ranger maintaining his lead position. We enforce this through strict feeding manners, and treats - Ranger is first.
Kota must kennel in the day to get any rest - she's like a restless two year old, unable to let go. A few hours later, Ranger starts sitting in front of me with that, "Now, Mom?" look. "Okay - find Kota." Off he trots to the guest room, opening the door with his big head. They prance and Ranger gives her all sorts of low aurrrggg growls of greeting.
I told Trooper to hold off on the call to the working dog section. She is a handful but I think nearly housebroken. (Well, she is training me to read her signs - that frantic pacing being a sure clue. Ranger spoiled us with his bell ringing smarts...) And at least one cat is not all that afraid of him, now - leave it to pudgy Jonesy to be the one unafraid. Poor Maximus is left to only hisses of disdain as his declawed front paws merely give velvety punches to the rude snout.
All in all, not a bad fit. And the fact is that the daily walks aren't hurting me, either. Kota has taken to the leash quite well to my surprise. She ignores all but the most barky dogs when told. And is very nearly trained now to do her business on command. Damned if she didn't choose a different one from Ranger, just to be trouble, I reckon. Amusingly, in the first few days, Ranger seemed to know that she didn't "get it" and would show her what we meant by "take a break". Now, she is able to get the point very clearly.
Oh, how her fur has changed...it is a veritable pelt, now. Nothing like that dry crackly straw she came here with, it is downy and deep with that slick outer coat. I shall have to get a photo of those paws, too. Gigantic, they are getting those cute tufts back - and the rest of her is getting that feathery coat that only comes with good food. Yes, she is mine, I am afraid. Damnably attached to me in a way that is almost more intense than Ranger's manner. In time, I hope, her youthful exuberance will fade a bit and she will be "push button" like Ranger...more calm...after all, I'd forgotten those difficult days of his youth when I used to post about how he was making me crazy.
At least she hasn't as long to age - just another year or so and things should settle a bit. Meanwhile, she is good to me, always at my feet. A fierce female warrior, ready to take on whatever comes.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
"1-877-VET2VET (838-2838) is a toll-free line for active or retired military personal. It is operated by the Kristin Brooks Hope Center."
The day may come when you simply need Someone. It won't matter who at the time. Merely that a voice of reason is listening and reminds you that you aren't some howling bit of empty space.
Never be so afraid that you don't pick up the phone.
Friday, July 09, 2010
"Even the most Heinlein-quoting, Ayn Rand-lovin', taxation-is-theft Wookie suiters get all weepy when NASA takes a shot in the payroll, when the simple fact of the matter is that the only spaceships the federal government has any constitutional business building should be run by the USAF and have frickin' laser beams on them."
That institution hasn't done a damned thing well in years. I feel terribly for those entrepreneur types still living under that umbrella and coping with the bureacracy. They really ought to just move on to the private enterprises and let NASA die a natural death.
But this comment made me smirk.
"Orion died because of the treaty preventing 'militarizing' space...and the only people who had nukes then (or now) are governments for military purposes."
Now, look carefully at why the new administrator has been tasked with, "find[ing] ways to reach out to dominantly Muslim countries." The race for space - thus, global security - has already been lost. I am willing to bet rather a lot that the Orion concept will be tasked with resurrecting it all in a last attempt to gain that life-preserving superiority. Meanwhile, we can look at what was and wonder at what might have been.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Thanks to some moron outside making enough racket to wake The Good Dog, the Lesser Dog was made to rise from her evening slumber early. And now two over-tired dogs are over-taxing my last nerves. Sickly nerves, at that.
Yes, the damned to hell crud AGAIN. Word has it this is some nasty version full of fever and whatnot. Me, I am clutching my container of butter mints (minty sugar butter - you got a problem with that?) to my congesting as I weave in place chest and having a kind of sad cougar moment with this tasty Ukrainian treat. Go ahead and scroll down to the next to last photo. I'll wait.
Ladies, you can smell what that is cookin', no? ("But your craptastic skill at linking prevents my enjoying that sweetness!" Fine. FINE. Search ebay for item # 350322257653.) He might smell of elderberries but it's awfully nice eye candy right there.
Eh? What? Why was I looking at Ren Fest attire? Why, never you mind! Nun ya. Wait. Did I post that already? Oh, the horrors! Possible replication of prior post content! [Insert claxon.] I think I was going to and then didn't. I think. Damn but this getting old thing is - er - getting old.
I love butter mints. You know the different colors mean nothing - they all taste the same, right?
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Like a scythe, it is intended to cut down your freedom. It is intended to cripple you and the world so that the long con can finally be brought to its conclusion.
Practice your long shots, that's all I can say. I fear the days are short, indeed, and the winter shall be a very cold one.
The quotes here have always remained with me.
There is a debt I owe to him...that he formed my mind in a time when it could have so easily been forced into a different mold. Those three men provided a greater education than my brief formal attendance ever had. Bless them all.
"Nothing that you think you know about capitalism is true: not one fucking word since what passes for "education" in this country began bending your minds at an early age.If you have one shred of sense left in your head, drop everything you are doing right now and read chapter sixteen of Ayn Rand's "Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal" in order to understand BOA and TARP and the implications.
If you don't, and you still think you know what you're talking about when you use the word, then you're deluded, and you're a goddamned menace."
I had a very early education in the hellish machinations of BoA. I swore I'd never use a large bank again. In Georgia, there weren't many options. Here in Texas there are quite a few. We happen to swear by Frost Bank.
As for the person who stayed with that bank after takeover? I can't say what their decisions were based upon but I would have instantly been shopping my business around to every small bank in the region so that I could pay those fuckers off and get them out of my life. If their business and credit was as sound as they say I can only assume a small bank would have been glad to take the small risk they presented.
We've been careful lately, taking on as little debt as we can. My own vehicle sits in the drive, DRT. Yep, I sure could use one that would fit two dogs - hell, even one dog - comfortably. But I'm not about to take on a car payment that I may not be able to afford later.
Financial decisions right now are critical. In very short order your 401k's will be looked at with avarice. Do not delay on making decisions about its use...finances are not what they once were. You are more a serf now than ever before - you just haven't been served with the papers yet.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Photograph by Thomas E. Franklin
Monday, July 05, 2010
Good converation, nicely cooked burgers, it was a very simple and highly impromptu gathering as none of us had really planned anything. My good friend, the distaff side, packed her cooler with what she had handy and we merged the remnants into a quite nice meal. Simple organic strawberries and real whipped cream (yes, organic) made a wonderful topping for the chocolate cake she had bits of, or the ice cream the kids preferred.
And I offered a bit of comic relief to my everlasting mortification. A sneeze too far, that internal valve failed and rather notably. The menfolk guffawed as I blushed and teared up and finally joined them after the shock wore off.
So it was...pleasant, calm, unplanned and utterly comfortable. It is why we are such close friends with them - there is a kind of peace that surrounds us, that deep sense that no fuss need be made, ever. Very comforting to a misanthrope like me.
Only this evening have I had a few moments to look around at all of you and your doings. And it was LeeAnn that pegged it in this.
"Hell can’t hold our sock-hops. We walk taller, talk louder, spit further, fuck longer and buy more things than you know the names of. " P.J. O’Rourke, “Among the Euro-Weenies”
Or, as it has been put elsewhere...
America. Fuck, yeah.