Didn't take long did it?

Whoa That didn't take as long as we might have hoped did it?

Yesterdays post was an attempt to wake up just a remnant of common sense people to the threat that the Islamic Jihadist pose to the west in general and possibly to us individually as well.

For instance........Just suppose a small group of terrorists were to cross the mexican border, either legally or illegally. Perhaps they meet as preplanned some people who have been in our country for years. Perhaps even nationalised citizens.
Suppose those citizens had spent a period of time collecting assualt weapons. Easy to do under the radar.

Picking up their weapons, ammo and transportation they disperse into groups of four or five across the country to cities picked not so much from a strategic position, as for the preception that it can't happen here.

Giving them time to all arrive at their destination, suppose that they take an innocent looking trip to the local Mall on a weekend say when the crowds are the biggest. When the food courts are packed or the movie theaters are crowded.

You'd be suppriesed how easy it is to hide weapons and spare ammo about your person, yet keep anyone from suspecting anything is amiss.

Supposed you had decided to take your preteen Children to get school clothes or to see a movie. You stop to get a slice of pizza at the food court, not noticing four individuals (not necessarily all men), who stroll to the center of the food court.

They suddenly stand back to back pulling their automatic weapons from under their coats or out of their shopping bags and start firing straight ahead while slowly circling to spread their fire all around the place or perhaps they have high explosives in those bags which they carry throughout the place before a single signal from a cell phone sends nails, tacks, glass or ball bearings into you and your child or children and dozens or perhaps hundreds of others.

How will you stop them? Can you stop them? Do we as a civilization do the hard thing?

Didn't take long did it?

whoops! My little finger got to flopping around like LL's little toe.
Sorry LL, hope it's better.

Does anyone care, is anyone listening?

Well, tonight we had ‘Last Comic Standing’, followed by ‘America’s Got Talent’.

That’s freaking wonderful. Just Freaking Wonderful.

Don’t mistake me people. I love to laugh and be entertained as much as anyone. Laughter makes you live longer. And if not at least you enjoy it more.

But doesn’t anyone in the freaking world of television have a freaking clue ??

What has to happen to the people in this country for them to wake up and scream as one voice that ‘WWIV’ is going on this very moment. Don’t they have the intelligence to recognize that we are right now, at this very moment engaged in a clash of cultures as great as desperate as War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells pretended to be……….
Only this is for real people.

I have all of about 3 people who ever click over this way, but if you do I hope you will read the following in its entirety and if it at all concerns you, please, for God’s sake, pass it on. Let’s try to wake up as many of the still sleeping as we can. Even if it pisses your liberal friends off.

I’m not going to put up a link to it, 1. because I don’t know how, and second I don’t want you to have an excuse not to read it.

by Justice Litle

"Going for the jugular" is an expression used in sports and business
life,
indicating a strongly aggressive move or an especially competitive
strategy. In casual use of the phrase, we forget the graphic nature of
what is being described. The external jugular vein carries deoxygenated
blood from the brain back to the heart. If the jugular is cut, death
from
blood loss is likely to follow.

We forget too that "going for the jugular" can carry significant risk
for
the attacker - be it man, mountain lion or terrorist-sponsoring nation
state.

In geopolitical terms, Iran is going for the jugular here and now.

With the Middle East pretty much a constant powder keg, it is easy to
imagine this recent flare-up is just another example of business as
usual
gone unusually bad. It is not. Through the proxies of Hezbollah and
Hamas,
with Syria as its lapdog, Iran has deliberately chosen this moment to
up
the ante.

As Iran sees it, the U.S. military is exhausted and overextended; the
American public's taste for military adventure is at low ebb; the world
community is more committed to Chamberlainesque pacifism than ever; and
the mullah's baby steps toward nuclear capability have not only gone
unpunished, but they have actually been rewarded with hints of
diplomatic
concession.

Smugness aside, Iran (and Syria and Hezbollah and Hamas) is taking a
very
big gamble. In one sense, they are reimplementing Saddam Hussein's old
game plan on a more subtle scale, calculating that the West does not
have
the will or the way to prevent their goal: the arrival and recognition
of
a new dominant power and force to be reckoned with in the Middle East.
Iran's ambition is to become the uniting force behind Shia Islam (in
competition with Sunni al-Qaida), a nuclear counterweight to Israel and
a
true power broker on the world stage.

This is a generalization, as it must be. The situation on the ground is
complex, and all players have their own motivations. (Sheik Hassan
Nasrallah of Hezbollah, for one, has waited many years for this moment
in
history to unfold and has spent the last few years preparing for it.)
The
bottom line is that the supposed good faith efforts to solve this
crisis
by way of diplomacy, the world's concerned nations putting their heads
together and all that, is a load of absolute nonsense. This is not a
regional spat between the Hatfields and the McCoys, in which the two
sides
can just set a spell and work out their differences. The situation is
far
more dire, far more calculated, and far more serious than that.

In his piece "War on Iran Has Begun," David Twersky writes: "Years from
now, the kidnapping of Cpl. Gilad Shalit will be regarded like the
assassination of Archduke Ferdinand." Many believe, like Twersky, that
full-scale war in the Middle East is now inevitable. Whether or not the
kidnapping of an Israeli soldier triggers a chain of events as
momentous
as the assassination that kicked off World War I, it is clear we are
experiencing a raging bull market in geopolitical tensions.

From an investing perspective, the knock-on effect of these events will
be
to remind Wall Street that not only are the reasons for $75 oil not
going
away, they are getting even stronger. Kevin Kerr and I have gone on
record
calling for triple-digit oil, as have other better-known
prognosticators,
like Jim Rogers. We've been beating that drum for some time now. Wall
Street is still waking up to this.

There are no easy answers to the situation we are in and legitimate
question as to what the hard answers should be. Military action against
Iran would accelerate and worsen the very problems that now have us in
their grip: sky-high energy prices, out of control spending and
inflationary pressures - not to mention all the horrors of war, the
question of how to measure success and whether success would even be
possible. Yet choosing to sit back and do nothing is a recipe for
nuclear
proliferation and, ultimately, nuclear exchange. Not to mention an open
invitation for further consolidation of a terror-exporting power base
and
future attacks on the West.

Of course, Iran knows all this. Iran knows how hard the answers are.
That
is why it is acting as it is; that is why it is acting now. Iran is
going
for the jugular. The country's timing gives it a powerful hand, but
there
is huge risk in this strategy. Some observers, such as Victor Davis
Hanson, believe that the mullahs are playing with a fire that could
wind
up consuming them. Hanson warns that if and when the West wakes up to
the
danger it faces, if and when the West decides that survival is on the
line, there could be an overwhelming forceful response of awe-inspiring
proportions - disproportionate force like we've never seen.

Regards,

Justice Litle
for The Daily Reckoning

I hope that’s sufficient credit where credit is due.

Now it’s up to you.

I just hope for our sakes the Western World wakes up in time.

We can’t all hide in the kudzu tangles of popular bread and circuses much longer.

Killin' ain't good enough

I don't know guys, and girls. I think of myself sometimes as a fairly tolerant guy. I'll let you believe as you like, if only you'll allow me the same privelege.

Even Moo-slimes (pig piss be upon them) as Denny of GOC calls them. As long as they act in a civilized manner, I'd allow them to worship as they please as long as they didn't try to force it on any . one . at . all.

Like I say, a tolerant guy. I've had people take financial advantage of me, and I remain calm. Besides revenge is a dish best tasted cold isn't it Jake?

Now for a guy growing up in the sixties, being trained to stuff our heads up our asses, er, uh, I mean under our desks in case of a bright light and mushroom cloud. Seeing wars, and assinations, and the Ed Sullivan show. You can hardly blame me for being a little apprehensive about the possibility of having children in that kind of world.

But, I loved all four of my children.

And now that they have children of their own, my heart like the Grinch's has grown, along with the size of my family.

But, when I read as I did about this pedophile who claims that men having sex with boys should be protected as some kind of religion,
on the Drudge Report this morning, my heart turns black and cold. Ice cold like yellow piss in the northern part of Greenland which freezes before halfway to the snow.

Nothing you could do to him will be punishment in my opinion. As my southern forebears were wont to say, " Killin's too good for th bastard.

Causes the Kudzu to grow thick and lush.

Wierd Wanda

Funny how something can spark an old memory.

I just thought about the fact that we had TV in Vietnam. Our own armed forces network up at good ol' Quang Tri. We could watch cartoons, the news. I remember seeing the 'Thrilla in Manila' live. Can't remember who won, although I believe Ali did..
Little bitty, probably 19 inch, portable with rabbit ears. Quang Tri had their own broadcasting studio. We could watch the air force weather people tell us it was either raining like a sumbitch, or that it was hot and dusty with 40 mph winds.

Don't let anyone fool you. Vietnam can be damn cold at 58 degrees, windy and raining so long there is mold growing on everything. Some one had a small portable cloths dryer he'd gotten from somewhere and bliss can surely be described as putting on warm dry socks. Almost better than sex although it's been so long for me that I'm thinking dry warm socks wins. They say your memory is the second thing to go and I forget what went first.

Anyway, back to the point of this little narrative. We did have the farthest North TV station in South Vietnam. And to keep the boys occupied when not raping and pillaging, they had a combination cartoon and weather show.

Now not all the americans over there were in the military. The good old USO is always there to boost the morale of the troops. So there were acutally round eyed american women over there. Not strictly camp followers per se. And not necessarily the prettiest you've ever seen. But, they were a reminder that there were better things than smelling burning JP-4 and shit in the morning.

Weird Wanda Wonderful hosted the 'Roger Ramjet cartoon show' every afternoon about 2pm. She had a side kick that our unit had provided. A skull would sit on a barstool beside her and she would speak to him. A straight man if you will for her girlish attempts at humour. She called him Wilbur. She'd ask "Wilbur do you want to watch a Roger Ramjet Cartoon?" He'd answer " Gee Wanda that's wonderful".

Maybe you had to be there to appreciate the show.

Wanda had a crush on Lt. Hunter, and he on her.

He was shot out of the sky NW of Kha Shan by a 12.5 mm.

One more little tendril around my soul.

Proof

Just to show some few doubters that the 50 # of tomatoes is real.

And I need to go pick some more before the wife gets home.

Maybe I'll take down the fence and let the wascully wabbits have it.

Is that a Gun in your pocket?

Or are you just glad to see me?

Always glad to to see an ass like yours darlin'.

A-man had nothing on me. Went out this evening and picked 50 pounds of ripe, or nearly so, tomatoes off of 8 plants. Not to mention the mess of okra, a dozen cukes, 2 cantalopes, 1 1/2 pecks of cherry tomatoes, an a good mess of snap beans.

To put in prespective, I had just picked the garden 2 days ago.

Who Knows?

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows.

And thanks to the wonders of modern communication, we all know if we allow ourselves to look at the blackness around us.

TV, the internet, movies, newspapers, infojournalism, all of these and more bring the most evil, sickening, disgusting and vile images either in print or visual, into our homes on an almost daily basis.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,204583,00.html

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,204601,00.html

If there is a hell such a those bible thumpers say, I hope there is an especially fiery place for such vermin as the rats who commit these crimes.

But, what of the blackness inside each of us?

I have pulled the trigger on fellow human beings. Seen them fall. Sent rockets punching thru torsos ripping them into unidentifiable bits of flesh.

I've witnessed ARVN troops abusing the bodies of female NVA soldiers by sticking their pointed little yellow peckers into every natural and scrapnel created hole they could find, after we finished our gun run.

I've seen dead bodies by the side of the road, left out in the tropical sun, to bloat and then to wither to shrunken shells when the gas leaves them.

War, you may say. Justifable at the time. But what of the images that come at other times?

I've imagined squeezing the trigger on someone who I preceive as doing me wrong.

I know how to kill with a knife so as to rip the heart and lungs to shreds, without causing the moans and gurgling of someones throat after having slit it from ear to ear.

I've read the writings of Poe, H. P. Lovecraft, that gargole that lives in Maine. Seen the thought processes of Oliver Stone brought to life on the silver screen.


The decision has already been made as to what to do to an intruder in my home, or to someone who harms one single hair of a loved ones head.

Do we profit by knowing what might be? By knowing what evil lurks within? Mankind doesn't seem to have improved in some respects over the thousands of years of recorded history. Despots have slaughtered their millions. Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Huessain, Stalin, Hitler, Mao Tae Tsung. These are only some of the ones who have lived and slaughtered within my lifetime. Who is to say that they couldn't do the same if given the chance. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutly. What causes one person to become a Billy Graham, and another to become a Mohammaud. One can value anothers life and rights and another to care only for power over others.

Is it that one can control themself, and the other wants only to control others?

There are within me black spots. Fertile as Wisconsin bottom land. Capable of growing either briars or roses.

Think I'll stick with Kudzu. The blooms smell sweeter. As I try to hide within its shadows.

Ol' Moose

I haven't thought of him in years. The spousal unit and youngest Daughter were scratching thru the boxes of pictures yesterday, and lo and behold who should appear but Ol' Moose.

I bought him while running the dairy farm years ago to breed our young holstein heifers to.
To ease the birthing process the first time since black angus normally throw smaller calves.

What a stud he was as you can see. Muscular as hell and horney as all get out.
We'd put a new bunch of young heifers in the pasture with him and as soon as they would come in heat he would have a new girlfriend. Stay right with them. Wrinkling his nose up when sniffing to see if they were ready. Lick it out of his nostrils with his tongue when they inevitably pissed on his nose.

After a few week with a new group he would be as bald on the top of his head as a billard ball.
Give him a couple of months of light duty and the hair would come out again

Every once in a while we would turn him in with one of the mature cows which we couldn't catch using AI, to see if he could get the job done.

Now you should have seen that. Picture Ol' Moose standing at most 4 1/2 feet on his stubby legs beside one of those big holstein cows standing nearly 6 feet at the hips. A sight to behold as he tried his damnedest to levitate his bulk up high enough to reach the object of his desire. If the old girl was really feeling the heat she would look back at him as if to say, "What's the matter with you "girly" boy"?

Not to be defeated Moose would keep at it, finally herding her around the lot until he had her backed up in a ditch which would allow him to pop that vaulting pole of a pecker to her. You had to give him credit for persistance.

Ol' Moose wouldn't let a little thing like a barbed wire fence stand in the way of a little romance either. Just let him get the slighest wiff of quim on a light spring breeze from a quarter mile away and he would just walk up to the fence, put his head between the strands of wire and simply walk thru, oblivious to the tiny scratches of the 1/2 inch long barbs. Many is the time we had to herd him back to his own pasture and hope he'd stay long enough for us to artifically inseminate the "in heat" cow.

This wandering eye of his finally got him in trouble one day. He was standing around one fine day surrounded by his young herem, when on the breeze came the unmistakeable, tantilizing arouma of estrus. His head came up and off he went, once more, into the breech, duty and pussy calling him.

Now you have to realize that unlike males of the human variety, a bull will generally leave his sword in the sheath untill time for action. This precludes it getting caught in the briars and brambles, and most especially barbed wire fences.

Not this time however. At approximatly half mast he made his usual stroll thru the fence.
Barbs and his bull hood engaged each other with disasterous results. Back into the sheath went his weapon. Blood poured forth and continued to run for a couple of days while he walked around kinda hunched over, all thoughts of romance purged from his mind.

While he eventually healed, he never again tried to crawl thru a barbed wire fence. He would however, stand on one side and call to his beloved of the moment. Much like Romeo calling softly to Julliet.

The Devil's beating his wife

“The devil’s beating his wife”

That’s what my mother would say anytime we’d get rain and the sun was shining.

I hadn’t thought of that in a while. Just came to mind when the wife asked me if my truck windows were up, because it had started raining, and I had to trudge outside in my slippers to roll them up.

Of course I said that I had deliberately left them down to dare the rain to come over the kudzu patch. No way, no how would I be so dumb as to leave them down accidentally.

Of course if we had a garage or carport there would be no problem. House plans call for a garage, but then it also calls for the first floor to be built over the basement.
One of these days… one of these days. I can hear my wife now….”I’ll believe it when I see it. After so many years in this basement, the kids all moved out, if the father-in-law didn’t live here we would be rambling around like two peas in a box car.

If we ever do build the top floor on this house we’d probably have to rent the basement out to 4 families of Mexicans in order to pay the power bill.

Men, don’t let your wife pick out the house plan. They have no idea of square footage.

Of course they’re not to blame. For years we’ve been telling them that this much…….

>I………………………………………I <

is eight inches.

Bless their little gullible hearts.


No kudzu there.

Happy 4th

One more 4th of July has arrived. A time of parades, fireworks, going to the lake, getting drunk, jumping in the pool. barbeques, and in general a free day off from work for millions especially government agencies. This year because it comes on a tuesday many took off from friday thru today.
Hopefully a few will take a moment to reflect on the reason for the day. Many blog posts will and have been written about it. One that caused me to think is http://www.neptunuslex.com/ .
I tend to get a little morose about the whole thing because too many people are working overtime to destroy what little freedoms we have left under that docoment and the Constitution which was written 11 years later.
People often seem too interested in the vague pursuit of happiness rather than protecting LIFE & LIBERTY.
Just my opinion, but it's one of the reasons for the tangles of doubt, depression and worry in my life.

On the upside, I'll be traveling down to Loganville to swim in the pool, see the spousal unit who is house sitting said pool, visit with the grandchildren and some of the children and their spousal units.
Have a great 4th of July, and take a moment to reflect on some of the reasons our forefathers pledged Their Lives, Their Fortunes and Their Sacred HONOR to fight to leave us the freedom we so cherish.

The okra needs picking, and beans too. They'll just have to wait.

I'll love you forever

Forever yours, To my wonderful wife (or Husband)
All of these sentiments I read on the inside of so many wedding rings.
I see them that were written years ago, and some that were given in wedding ceremonies only a few months ago.
I buy old, scrap and unwanted gold jewelry from pawnshops and refine and resell the gold to jewelry manufacturies and others.
It's amazing how many wedding and engagement rings are to be found there. All of the people they belonged to I'm sure meant every word of their wedding vows. What happened? Where did all that love and affection go? Probably started to go when the guys stopped holding their stomach in and their wives stopped dying their roots, ( or shaving their legs ), and had bloating and cramping for like 3 years at a time. Lack of affection in inverse relation to the amount of time their husbands sat on the couch watching wrestling, with their feet on the coffee table and both hands stuck down the front of their pants. As an aside, I used to have a brother-in-law who on friday nite would come home with like 15 hours of WWF on video from Blockbusters.
His greatest thrill was his job as bush hog driver cutting the grass on the sides of the road.
Little wonder that his wedding ring is probably a completly different type of jewelry now.
Sis divorced his fat ass and married a Canuck. (but otherwise a pretty respectful type of guy)
If only he'll stop pushing her down and breaking her leg. Just kidding Rick.
I sometimes think we should go to having the betrothed couple take at least 3 years of classes on how to stay married before they could get a license. Oh yeah!, mostly now they don't bother with a ceremony. Just decide, yeah we've had two dates why don't we move in together.

Oh well it gives me something to do and maybe I'll make a dime or two if I keep it up.
Keep on selling those rings and other jewelry folks to the local pawn shop owner for 1/10th of what you paid for it. He'll double his money and I'll make a little cut too. Besides I so love it when in a pawn shop a guy will come in with two rings, the pawn shop guy will say $20 and ring guy will shout $20, but I paid $500.00 for those rings. Pawn shop guy says only worthe $20 to me. Well ok, but you guys sure are making a killing, give me the 20. I just smile and keep on going.

We got some rain on the kudzu. Tomatoe plants nearly as high as my head.

The Great one passed

I started to just leave to title up there, but I have to try to work my way around the news of the passing of Rob Smith of Gut Rumbles.
I'm not sure, but his blog may have been the first one I ever read. Maybe not, but certainly one of the first I remember liking so much that I would return every day, sometimes several times thru-out the day to read. His honesty, his take no prisoner, damn the torpedos approach to life seemed to release some of the demons I struggle with.
Having finally faced some of my past in therapy the last 2 years, I could identify with some of the things he put up with by not putting up with.
The post by someone of his comment when leaving the Helen, Ga blogfest where he said, "I feel like Elvis leaving Las Vegas for the last time" as they carried him to the car and loaded him in, spoke to the yearnings I had been having of leaving all my troubles behind.
His finally coming to realize what he was doing to himself, gave me hope that, This too shall Pass!
His writing became more lucid and sharper after he dried out. He could write, a little. Far better than I ever hope to.
He had much hurt in him. You don't lose a son, no matter the reasons, without feeling like your soul had been wrenched from you.
He loved his family, from his ancesters to his children. His writing of them spoke to the feelings I have for my own family.
I'll miss him. Just as I miss everyone who has passed thru my life and left me for better or worse the man I am.
How ironic that in his last post he spoke of how tired he was of all the shit that had been going on in his life. When he wrote of how he would use a .22 to kill himself, you could feel some of the anguish in him. I believe that a benevolent God took him in his way, a kinder gentler way than perhaps Rob had in mind. We can be grateful for that.
I'll forget him in time, but when those memories are stirred up by what ever errant piece of bad beef, I'll smile and be thankful to have read him, Once upon a time.

Rob, I hope you smell the kudzu blossums every day where you are.

UPDATE: Nice tribute here.............http://www.youbitch.org/mt/archives/000643.php

coulda, wouda, shouda

Fathers Day.
Here I sit at the end of the day. I received calls from all my children. My wife gave me 2 pairs of new jeans (she's been washing the old ones and seeing the disintergration of same), and a lovely card.
I thankful to my wife for my children, and to an affair which yielded a remarkable young woman that like all of my children, I'm proud to call my own.
There are a great many things that I can look back on and regret either not doing, or, doing. But one thing I do not regret is the birth of each and every one.
I regret not having the time to get to know my own father. Sure I knew him for 25 yrs. but I was only at that time grown up enough to start to recognize him for who he was.
I knew my Grandfather for 8 yrs longer, and how I wish I had listened more to his advice.
Both of them loved us in completly different ways, and taught us lessons that will always remain with me.
I did the best that I knew how when they were younger, and I'm still trying to learn how to be a dad.
Wish me luck. It's a hellva ride.

But sometimes you get to see and smell the kudzu in bloom.

Oh yeah

Forgot to mention that it's been dry here. And since the old wive's tale is if you hang a snake on a fence it'll rain, I attempted same but since we have no fence, I did the next best thing. I tied those 2 snakes by their tails into a tree. Blessed rain from above today. If that's what it takes I'll be on the watch for more of the slimy bassards.
Maybe prowl around in the Kudzu.

Serves them right

I'm normally a laid back kind of guy. Expecially if I take the medication like the dr. prescribes. A pill for blood pressure, another to make me pee to go with the lst, a pill for anxiety (why would I be anxious?). Another to decrease my depression over the financial depression I've gotten us into. Another anti-depressant to help the first. And another for the carpel tunnel which I'm waiting on the VA to get around to.
So like I say, pretty laid back.
But the wife called me to the house, and said there was a noise coming from the attic over our bedroom and the dog was going crazy. For me to open up the attic and see what it was and remove it.
Naturally for my love, no sooner said than done.
So after a drink of water to cool off and a leasurly stroll to the bedroom where I couldn't hear anything, I go open up the attic from outside just to placate her, and prove that she's just imagining things.
So I crawl in with the flashlight and shine it in the corner. Damn, two big ol' snakes going at it like, well, like snakes. Which as you can imagine doing it with no hands or anything to grab aholt of is sorta a trick.
Now these were black snakes, nothing to worry about except how to convince them to leave.
Then I got to thinking. Who the hell do they think they are? Having carnal relations over my bedroom. They're gettin more than I've had in a while and seemingly enjoying it wayyyy too much.
That's when I called for the .22 pistol. Had to aim carefully since I didn't want a hole in either the roof or ceiling. And a shot anywhere other than the head wouldn't do more than piss them off, and cause them to bleed on everything.
Finally mission accomplished. Pics of Grandson with culprits follow.
Well maybe they proceed. Don't know how I managed to get two sets of the same pics. Does any body know how to put the pics where I want them?

They should have stayed in the kudzu if they wanted to be left alone.

Better late than Never

That's what they say, whoever they are.

The Baby arrived on Monday last. A Girl, named Callie Cheyene, weight 6 lbs 13 oz. Mother and Baby are fine, but, I fear the father is ruint forever. This big strong former Marine has been twisted around Callie's finger since birth.
He could go on secret missions to kill Al Queda even before 9/11, but he can't fend off one little girl who can't even roll over yet.
Such is the power of love for family.
I'll try to copy and paste a picture of the baby here

False alarm

Well, the youngest's 1st child was due yesterday.
Last night at midnight we got a call. On the way to the hospital.
Opps!
Seems the timing was off. False alarm.

Our first was due around the 10th of September. I had a reporting date in Vietnam of the 1st of same. Got a months reprive so as to be there for the happy moment. Wouldn't you know it. The baby was 2 weeks late. Hope was born on the 25th. My reporting date was Oct 1.

12 months later I got to watch her take her first steps. Glad Roy has his service behind him. He'll get to witness all the things I missed the first time around.

I don't need no stinkin' job

My father died when I was 25, still flying choppers for good ol' benevolant Unk' Sam. He slid in a ditch during an ice storm making the return portion of a beer run to the package store only 2 or 3 miles away. He sat there with the motor running and expired of carbon monoxide poisioning.

While on leave for Christmas he and I were talking and he told me he had something important to discuss, but would do it later. Later never came.

We moved on to Ft. Lewis in Washington State. A month after we got there we got the call.

He had a will and named me executor. I got out of the army and took over operation of his dairy farm which he had been building up since the early '50s.

He had started with about 2 dozen cows of various breeds and kept adding to it in both cows and land, until he had about 300 acres and 120 milking cows, which at that time were numbered in the top ten of all herds in GA of that size.

To me fell the gladsome task of listing all his assets at time of death, and getting appraisals of all, to be used to prepare the estate tax form which had to be filled out and filed with the IRS (peace be upon their blood sucking, beauracratic bloated asses).

Too much for a youthful, innocent, uncorupted, niave to the way of the real world, I hired his old attorney to help with the mountain of paper work.

We finally came up with the final estimate and found to our plesant surprise that we owed over $50,000.00 which at the time I thought was more money than existed in one pile in all the world. A third of his net worth. A freaking third!!!!!! WTF over.

Needless to say that put us on the road to eventually selling off everything that he had worked 25 years for. For I might say a mere pittance of what it would be worth now. I sometimes refer to it in moments of mirth, lighthly as my $6,000,000.00 mistake. Live and learn they say. Read um and weep.

I have held our blessed, benevolant, all caring and concerned fiddle gummint in the highest regard since. I determined that I would not live my life so as to have to bow to their every whim, and would only donate to their continuence as little as possible.

It's caused some hardship. Tax audits, harrassing phone calls, even the taping of what I mistakenly thought was a private phone call. I've been mostly self employeed. Making only enough to keep from going on welfare.

I'm tired of that lifestyle. I determine to live so as to prosper as much as possible.

But my determination to be free of control is undimmed.

That's why I support and urge every one to become with the Fair Tax Bill sponsered by Rep. John Linder of GA. If you haven't heard of this bill, please go to http://www.fairtax.org/

Thanks for taking the time.

OK, Maybe I rushed to judgement

I'll always admit when I've been wrong. There were and are reasons the appraiser couldn't get here. The man has been trying to put things back together. Even to the extent of using his own money or credit to help me out of a bind. You would think that his wife suddenly throwing up blood and being diagnosed with stomach cancer would make me cut him some slack.
You'd be wrong. I drive and hour to stand in his driveway and look him in the eyes and hash everything out.

Damn I hate to get in a fix like I did. When I was in 6th grade I overheard my teacher tell my mom that I had a high IQ and for years I thought I was smart. I can see now that I just had an inflated opinion of myself. Evidenced by the results over the years I may be one of the less intelligence forms of life on this ball.

Probably should go and hide in the Kudzu again, and ponder my navel or such.