Friday, June 29, 2007

This is just .............

...................Damn Depressing

This Is My Life, Rated
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

WTF do they know.

Are you a Slave?

.....I saved this from Pamela's Site several weeks ago, thinking that I would get around to thinking about it later.

Well better later than never I reckon.........
It has been over a month I discovered when I went looking for it.

Apparently some Islamic Thinkers are putting out posters that just melt the heart of anyone who sees them and causes all right thinking people everywhere to flock en mass to join their noble cause. (You may have to scroll down to see the one which asks "Slave of Man" or "Slave of God"?)

With the obvious choice being that you would choose to be a slave to God, (as they are I suppose, although their roots trace back to Abraham of the old testament, who's god was Ya weh, or as we know him as Jehovah architect of this world at the direction of his Father, Elohim. Later he came to earth in human form according to christians and saved us all from our sins. Call him allah or the one god, seems the same one if you follow that logic. (Of which there may be none here).

My understanding is that the jewish and christian god gave us free will to serve him or not according to our wishes. Why a God would need a bunch of slaves to sing hosanna to him day and night is beyond me. I mean........after all, he is a god. Which I guess ascribes to him intelligence beyond my comprehension, and he would probably want us to use and increase our own intelligence, not show what myrmidons we are that all we can do is mimic what he told us 5000 years ago, or 2000 if you follow the Christ. Shouldn't we much better continue our increase of intelligence to draw nearer to understanding God, if such a thing is possible.

My personnel belief is that the religious leaders in the middle east want to make us their slaves so they can live well off the efforts of our backs, much as some of the so called religious leaders in this country would do if we gave them half a chance. There can be no other reason for them to want to Kill or convert all the rest of the world.

All I know is that I would take affront at anyone who comes into the Kudzu grotto and tried to force me to do anything. Even if I would normally do it on my own. That affront might cause me to let vital fluids leak into the ground. It's excellent fertilizer don't you know.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

My butt is dragging

Hopefully no one will drag me off and shoot me.

From 9:15 to 6:45 today I drove to Augusta, back to Athens, then to Dahlonega, and then back to Athens. Maybe not 400 miles but it feels like it.

Sometimes you have to put yourself out a little bit in order to accomplish anything. Turned out much better than I had hoped and I came home broke again. But I'll continue to do that to earn 10% a week on my money. Just need more money in the kitty.

The ebay items from a week or so ago, didn't sell, so I tore them apart and sold the metals and diamonds seperately. The diamonds went well below wholesale so the jewelers I sold them to will make a very nice profit when they sell them. That's business and business of various kinds makes the world work, such as it does, today. So go out and spend those fiat dollars. Then they'll print more of them for us to spend. And you better spend them. (hopefully on things of value that will increase in value over time, because the $ will continue to decrease in value.)

At least that's how I understand economics here in the Kudzu grotto.

Monday, June 25, 2007

At least one white guy..........

.........isn't afraid to speak truth.

Of course it helps that he lives in Guadalajara, Mexico. Jessie Jackass is not likely to run down there and protest his white ass.

What will you do if the civil war comes. Do you have an arsenal and supplies? How about a secure place to live and defend? Think it can't happen?

I try not to be or teach racist. But I also try to see life as it is, even though it keeps kicking me on my butt.

Perhaps I'd be better off pulling back into the kudzu? Whadda ya think?

Outside the light

We started out on a clear blue morning in June. There were only a few white puffy clouds in the sky and a handful of parents to see us off. It was almost as if everyone else couldn’t abide the thought that we were really going. Possibly,…..almost certainly never to see us again. Silence was the rule among us. Everyone seemed to be contemplating their own reasons for going.

Sara and I were the last two to board. We had struck an arrangement between ourselves to share berthing assignments. For two years we had known each other at the academy. Loners, we had watched as all the others paired off into compatible couples. Till only we two were left to ourselves. Out of necessity we had joined forces since only male and female couples were allowed to sign on.

It only made sense. We were heading to Peltus Six. We would travel fifteen light years from Earth, in the southeast quadrant of the Milky Way Galaxy. Not so far, I guess, if you considered the size of our home galaxy.

Only in the last fifty years had the Hawking-Thompson Drive been perfected and men burst into the sky in search of whatever was out there. And out there consisted of a whole lot of nothing, lots of near vacuum, uninhabitable, hostile planets circling a variety of suns, both large and small. But Peltus Six had that rarest of rarities, a planet neither too hot nor cold, breathable atmosphere, in fact slightly more oxygen than earth, and water, life’s blood itself to a species comprised of seventy-five percent water.

If you want.................

. be a successful criminal. First make sure you're not an Idiot

Scroll down and it becomes clear.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Invasion of the Walmartians

I confess, We shop at Walmart, or as I like to think of it, China West. I mean, come on, have you tried to find anything made in America there?

Now, come to think of it, we live in a college town, so I'm pretty sure that all of the checkout girls have been...............well, maybe not that really ugly, fat one on register 5. But then considering the numbers of freshmen males.........who knows.

The upside of it is that the store here probably gets more than a regular share of hottie's coming in and out, plus sufficient numbers of milf's that my eyes are more on a swivel than anytime in Nam watching for AA fire.

But the hottie's and the milf's are not what I was there for. The wife invited me to tag along while she picked up grumps medication, a toilet set, and fabric for a sewing project she just thought of. So I figure I'll make a few points with her by going with her. Plus as I mentioned, the Hottie's and Milf's.

Well about the time she hit the fabric center I asked if she would be there for a while. (I knew the answer) So I'll just be found in the book and magazine isle.

After I had read at least the back cover of every book there, 2 novels and SOF magazine completely as well as most of Guns and Ammo. I skipped some of the ads for exotic game hunting trips to the wilds of Texas. (Did you know you can bag all of the big five from Africa there?) I called her on the cell phone to find out where she is. Saves walking all over the 2 acre super store looking like a 3 year old who had lost his mama. Still in the fabrics, and she still has to go pick up the medication.

My feet by now feeling like I just finished the Ironman Marathon, I say I'll be sitting on a bench beyond the check out counters.

You can see anything in the world in a Walmart. I swear there was a woman rode by me on one of those courtesy scooters whose ass overlapped the seat on either side by at least a foot. She had the steering handle pushed all the way forward and still had to suck in her gut to make a turn. Wearing a set of jogging pants that showed every roll of fat and wrinkle in places you don't want to hear of. Just trust me.

Then there was the opposite lady.. Slender to the point of emaciation almost. There with what had to be her daughter and two grandsons. All wearing flip-flops of course. They had half a buggy bottom of stuff and I kid you not that it took them 25 minutes to get checked out. Exchange this, discount for that, what was the price, send someone to check. Flip-flop your way to check for your self. But what really made me giggle behind my hands was the older womans dress. Now I have to say, that it was a nice sun dress. Pretty pattern and color. Would have looked real nice on most folks, but she hadn't seen the sun in years. My legs have more color and they haven't seen the light of day in decades.

The dress had those straps which come up and cross in the back so as to show off your shoulders, maybe a little bit of boob, just the tops, and a good bit of your back.
And I swear to you that she has an old faded, worn out, stretched out, whiteish bra on under it.

Maybe I'm behind the times. If I am just let me know. Is this a new way to show off your bra? It wouldn't have been so bad, but the manufactures tag was hanging down right in the middle of her back below the little hook-ie things.

Walmartians...............................gotta love us.

Friday, June 22, 2007

You just have to wonder...........

...............when you read of some one being struck down by a Lightning bolt from the clear blue sky what were the last thoughts of the person struck if any. "Damn, I shouldn't have stolen money out of the church poor box Sunday"???

I mean how can you not wonder if some kind of divine retribution is taking place or not? Or perhaps it was to scare the other two wetbacks into returning to south of the border. Is this racist of me? Probably not, but it could indicate a bit of bigotry. I mean I'd be saying Hail Mary's all the way back to Neuvo Laredo just as fast as I could get there.

This would be weird to see

I have a good friend, a lawyer from Peru who lives in this country but cannot practice law since he didn't attend an american law school.
He has written several books on the architecture and archeology of South and Central America.
There are quite a few things of a mystical nature and UFO sightings in those areas which do not make the news in this country. He leads tour groups to those areas and I have seen many pictures taken by group members that have things which I cannot explain on them.

Many people have filed somewhat credible claims of seeing UFO’s and while I can't prove or disprove any of them I still wonder about the strange and mysterious. Like why have perfectly round iron objects with carvings on them been found in mile deep gold and diamond tunnels in South Africa?

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Well now,

Let's just all bend over, stick our heads where the sun doesn't shine and ignore common sense.

Am I ready to pay $6.00 for gas? Hell no! But if we expect the gov't to do anything about it we all have a malodorous bodily excretion over our eyes.

Several good points in this article in todays AJC, the official Georgia Fishwrapper.

Gas at $6 per gallon? Get ready.

By Jim Wooten | Thursday, June 21, 2007, 08:15 AM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Get ready for Congress to solve the energy problem just as it has previously solved the illegal immigration problem. A bill being debated in the Senate this week is described by some of its supporters as “far from perfect” but “a good start.”
A good start, yes, to higher gas and food prices, to new taxes and to forcing consumers to pay for high-cost “renewable” energy sources — solar and wind, for example — that are to energy independence what bicycle trails are to traffic-congestion relief.

The Senate bill, grandiosely and falsely dubbed the Renewable Fuels, Consumer Protection and Energy Efficiency Act of 2007, should come with a section prohibiting price gouging — by Congress. The legislation “could result in significantly higher prices for gasoline consumers,” according to Heritage Foundation researchers. “A review of S. 1419, including the just-completed section on tax changes, reveals that the bill could increase the price of regular unleaded gasoline from $3.14 per gallon (the early May national average) to $6.40 in 2016 — a 104 percent increase,” write Heritage Foundation researchers William W. Beach and Shanea Watkins.
“Gas consumers can expect to pay between $3.16 and $3.79 a gallon for gas in 2008 after adding in the estimated impact of the Senate energy bill. By 2016, all states can expect gas prices in excess of $6. As a result of S. 1419, consumers would spend an average of $1445 more per year on gasoline in 2016 than in 2008,” they write.
With the the concurrence of the ranking Republican on the Senate Finance Committee, Charles Grassley of Iowa, and others (Gordon Smith of Oregon, Olympia Snowe of Maine and Pat Roberts of Kansas, all Republican), the committee is proposing $29 billion in new taxes on oil companies. The tax is to subsidize wind and solar power, hybrid vehicles and biofuel. The bill calls for a sharp increase in the use “renewables,” including heavily-subsidized ethanol, up from 8.5 billion gallons next year to 36 billion gallons by 2022. And it requires, too, that utilities would be required to buy at least 15 percent of their energy from wind, solar and other “renewable” sources.

Ethanol requires more energy to produce than it generates as fuel, to say nothing of the water required for irrigation in areas like drought-stricken South Georgia. It’s subsidized by taxpayers with a 51-cents per gallon tax credit, and it’s subsidized again at the pump with a 54-cents-a-gallon tariff on imported ethanol. Go figure.

The provision, too, that would “protect” consumers from “price gouging” is an invitation to price controls. And that’s an invitation to economic disaster. This comes, incidentally, despite the fact that no reputable studies establish that price gouging has occurred.

Borders were made secure and the illegal immigration problem was solved in 1986. And now the energy problem is about to be solved, too.

A new period of Global cooling?

Can it be possible?? Can the enviro-wackos possibly be mistaken? Will empirical evidence make any difference to them? No of course not. They are not so much for saving the planet as they are trying to save it for a socialist dictatorship which caters to their perverted views of things. Most of them never study the science at all, merely repeat the slogans of the day, like the myrmidons they are.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

To all the girls

even those who have known me, the following regret or wish is my wish for you.

A rich gentleman, I reckon, would be preferable.


don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys.

And if they do.....................Thank God. It could be worse.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Slight progress, I guess.

We seem to be making a little headway with the minions in Mordor-on-the-Potomac.

I received two letters today. One from the Vice Presidents office signed by his lackey for correspondence. A special assistant no less, thanking me for my correspondence about the Illegal (my word, not hers) immigration policy. They notify me that my views have been noted. Probably means I'm on a list somewhere. Either that or that my returns for the last 10 years will be audited.

Another from one of our Senators from Georgia who at least now is mouthing words more to my liking. But who now comes across as a Clinton who will spout whatever flavor of the moment poll indicates is the thing we want to hear.

I don't think they expected the uproar that has been raised. Good. Let them contemplate the results of their actions just a little more.

I'd love to think that they stare anxiously into the fire over their highballs and worry just a little bit that a sleeping giant had been roused. But more likely they conspire in their smoke filled rooms about how long they have to wait before we fall asleep again like a newborn puppy. So suddenly that he sprawls to a halt in mid stride because we can't seem to keep our eyes open.

Just a little rant here in the kudzu to let you know that I'm still kicking.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Evening before Father's day thoughts

We had lunch and a good time down at a sisters house today, along with her husband and another sister and her husband down from VA.
Always good to see family.

Tomorrow we'll travel down to our oldest daughter's home for father's day and I guess all the children will be there. They just tells me where to go and I do.

My father died just after my 25th birthday, a month after his 46th. So I knew him less than half my life and more than half of his life. Plus I had been gone serving in the Army for 6 years, so I could subtract 25% of that. And I had just reached the age when I was capable of knowing someone on an equal level. Sometimes I wonder what things I could have learned had I been more willing to listen or he better able to teach.

He could be a hard man, and seemingly was, a lot of the time. A farmer during the 50's and 60's, life was a continuous round of getting up in the dark to milk the cows and working all day to keep everything including his children fed and tended to. Although much of the children tending was left to our mother except when he needed us to do what he wanted us to. A stern voice and sometimes a boot to the behind or a twist of my ear figured in a large part of my early memories.

It took a little more maturity and adult understanding after he was gone to come to an understanding of some of his ways. And even now I wonder if my perceptions of him even come close to what he actually was. Oh well, in the sweet by and by as they say.

My oldest daughter is now 10 years older than I was when he died, and I recognize how hard it is to let your feelings show through in your dealing with your children.

Much of how we raise our own comes from how we were raised, and unless you are gifted with the blessing of being able to communicate really well with your children you have to have some doubts about how you are doing of did.

My oldest was born when I was 20, and five days old when I left for Vietnam. I saw with my younger children and grandchildren how much I missed of her in that year. And now I can see how that one year influenced the rest of my life. She thinks she takes after my mother, but I think she'd be surprised and perhaps dismayed by how much she takes after me.

My next daughter was born of a relationship I had while my wife and I were separated. I saw her once before her 16th birthday. I'm awfully glad she was stubborn enough to want to know her father. And extremely thankful that she had a Daddy who loved her in her young life because I wasn't there. She is a great young woman and mother of 2.

Our son was born 6 months after my dad died. He carries his grandfathers name, as does his son. Fathers and sons can butt heads, and we did. Today he has two children of his own and I have seen what a good father he tries to be.

Our youngest daughter was spoiled because she was the youngest. In spite of my best efforts she has grown into a beautiful intelligent young woman with a husband and child (which has been featured here several times).

On this father's day I'll be thinking of my father and grandfathers of course. But most of all I'll be thinking of the awesome responsibility and tremendous blessing of being a father myself.

Happy Fathers day. Remember that many young fathers and some grandfathers are away from their families serving overseas in harms way. Take a moment to remember them in your prayers.

What the world eats.

I guess that I'm more surprised by the similarity in Costs among so many of them than anything else. Of course I'd like to see any American dine on $1.something a day, much less a family of four.

Friday, June 15, 2007

eBay Items

eBay items I have for sale are # Item number: 110137328670 & item # 110137334961 for those who might wish to look.

I've set up another blogger site where I'll be putting things from time to time but haven't got it set up yet.


While sitting here waiting for my arteries to harden, my synapses to snap, and my joints to calcify, it occurred to me,.........
................... what the hell am I waiting around for?

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Pickled Pigs Lips?

Ok, here's the deal. A couple of days ago the wife and I were in the grocery store. Just picking up a $100.00 worth of snacks and so forth, when we went by the meat counter and there for just everyone to see were jars of pickled pigs lips.

Now I know that people have long eaten pickled pigs feet and chicken feet and 'chitlins, although why (unless you are starving) is beyond me. But pickled pigs Lips.

I'm sorry, that's just wrong. I'm speechless. Well I guess the pigs are too.

And I know that's a hippo, but it's the closest thing to hand.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

A long long time ago........

. a land before time, the USA was a nation of movers, shakers, innovators, builders.

Sadly, we are reduced to a land of wussies where our every effort is subject to criminal prosecution.

This is what we get for having so many lawyers and politicians.

I hope you're happy. You and I allow them to control everything.


What. The. Heck. am I going to do with this?

It comes as no surprise to those who know me that I will bring home anything that is odd or unusual or I think I might be able to use it one day in the undefined future in some undefined way.

I've had this, approximately seven gallon glass jug with it's styrofoam cover, for several years. Army surplus originally holding some kind of acid, but now rinsed and just sitting in the sewing room / computer, office, lounge, library, ie., my junk room. I thought about a terrarium or fish tank, but that probably requires more time and effort than I'm willing to spend.

For now it holds up...... a note book (empty) 3 packs of 3 ring note book paper, some carbon paper and whatever else is handy at the moment.

Just call me pack rat.

Help request

I sometimes have a few items listed on eBay and want to start a website to feature those and other things for sale. Does anyone know of a free website builder that is techtard friendly? I've wanted to keep ads off this blog since it's just my stream of consciousness rant & raving and keeping in touch blog.

Recent developments require a renewed effort to turn a few schmollies. Ideas welcome. Links to porn would reveal too much of my perverted nature, so will be limited. Linking to sites of undraped maidens of legal age will be confined to the kudzu grotto and not made accessible to the general public.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007


Blessed rain.

We're only 10 or 20 inches behind so far this year. Many of the crops either withered aborning or soon after. Pastures usually so green in a late spring were a uniform straw brown in color.

But, hope is not lost. Yesterday the Governor and all the big wigs at the state Farm Bureau down in Macon called on everyone to join in a prayer for rain.

We'll need more, but a thunderstorm came through the corner of Smokey Rd. and Nowhere Rd. and dumped what must have been an inch or more of rain. Puddles appeared for the first time in months.

I stood barefooted on the front stoop and enjoyed the roar of wind in the leaves and rain bouncing off the driveway. Pine treetops were thrown back and forth in a fury, or a dance of delight, not sure which, Twenty or thirty feet to their arc at the height of the storm.

And like listerine kills the bacteria in your mouth and makes you want to spit them out, so the winds and rain cleansed the air, with a little help from the lightning to give it that ozone smell, which quickly drops all the ugly smells to the ground, leaving that smell of fresh laundry on the line.

And it seemed as if some of the kudzu was washed away from my soul, along with a bit of the black rotted vegetation that gathers among the roots, vines and leaves. Not all, probably not what's needed, but enough to let a little hope shine through.

Thanks due. Thanks given.

Outside the light

I’d overheard them talking in a pub. O’Reilly’s, if it matters. Wondering what it would be like to hike through the forest, from the river to the lake.

I’d quietly said “that’s not such a good idea”. I had thought I’d spoken under my breath. My mistake, getting involved. Trying to stop the inevitable. You’d think I would learn. Questions poured out like ale from an overturned mug. Ridicule, when I told them that they would be better off in the pub, or their own beds.

“How do you know”, asked the apparent leader, a thin tall kid named Josh. “Just take my word for it”, I replied. “You have no idea of the things that live in there”.

“Like what”, he demanded. “How do you know? Have you been there? I could see the nods from the group, five girls, four males, all just over the legal age from what I could tell. Must have been college students, so sure were they of themselves and the rightness of their beliefs. You can tell. Nothing had happened to make them doubt themselves, or, what their limpid, swishy, pasty faced instructors had told them. All of it pronounced from the lectern with the sureness of an edict from on high.

I was once like them. Not so very long ago.

Five hundred years. Five hundred years. Even when I say it to myself, a long time. Seems long anyway. Seven lifetimes ago, and yet it remains as vivid in my mind as if it happened this morning.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Outside the Light

I crouch just outside the light. Facing into the darkness toward the unknown out there. Others lie sleeping quietly in their sleeping bags or sit chatting idly by the campfire.
They don’t know that I’m here. My sleeping bag is filled with clothes and my knapsack.
They wouldn’t understand why I watch. Nor would they believe me if I told them what I know.
I’ve tried, believe me, many times with others much the same as these. Even those closest to me think I’m slightly paranoid, slightly off kilter in my ideas. No harm can come to them. They’ve never offended anyone, neither varied in their thinking from the consensus, the status quo. Never have they asked “please sir, may I have some more”. Go along to get along is their creed.
Five days on, two days off, every week. Week after week, the same old thing, the same old people, nothing ever changes for them.

But I watch, not just tonight, but while they're off living their short, pathetic, little lives.

Once I was much like them, going day by day to the job assigned to me. But, that was before…….

A night bird calls, my eyes turn slowly in that direction, my ears listening………listening for anything unusual. Nothing. Just more of the quietness, more of the dark, yet it waits, out there, somewhere. Somewhere…. ahead.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

I find it interesting

.........that a liar found out will not hang his head in shame, but will loudly criticize and berate the one who found him out as the liar and threaten to cause them to have a bad day. Then still proclaim the lie as truth and vow never to have anything to do with you again.

Little do they realize that the reason you found them out was their own outrageous claims which grow over time as thy try to convince you of the reason things don't happen when they said they would.

Like I said, I find it interesting.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Ever Kill..............

..............A rabbit by mistake? And not be aware of it till days later?

Once in my younger days as a bold intrepid aviator for the US Army, I was assigned to ferry a huey from Budingen where stationed to Hanau Army Airfield where our division maintence facilities were.

Hanau was an interesting place. During WWII it was a secret Luftwaffe airfield. Secret by virtue of the fact that the hangers and other things were underground, and during the day when allied planes were overhead the runway and surrounding fields were flooded to a depth of a couple of feet. Looked just like a lake. Which in essence it was.

After that part of Germany was overrun and occupied by the Americans, it was used by them as their airfield and may be even today. Nice runways poured and hanger facilities built right on top of the underground hangers. One interesting story said that once a Stuka tail rudder floated right up through the wooden hanger floor, because the old hangers were just flooded by the americans with all the equipment and planes still in place.

Any hoo as stated, I was assigned to fly a bird down for maintenance we could not preform, hitch a ride back and a couple of days later go back and fly it home.
Nothing unusual at all. A nice little 30 minute flight each way, admiring the neat German countryside as we beat our way through the air.

A couple of days later the Major in charge of our maintenance called me in his office and asked if I had dragged the tail stinger on landing at Hanau. Not to my knowledge replied I. And you could always tell when this happened because the tail stinger was a 1 1/2 in thick 2 to 3 foot long piece of metal placed below the tail rotor for exactly the purpose of preventing you from putting said rotor in the ground and killing the plane and possible everyone else within a 50 yard radius. The stinger would spring you back up a little and was very noticeable. Of course if you were really intent on crashing you could get past this slight impediment. But, no, I had no memory of anything of the sort happening. Nor did my co-pilot, a Viet Vet with as much experience as I.

You didn't have a tail rotor strike, asked the Major. To which, of course, our reply was no.

Well you didn't post flight the plane then did you he asked? We certainly did, was the reply, as this was as automatic as breathing to us.

Let's walk out to the plane, sayeth Major. Curious we followed him to the flight line to the bird in question.

"Look there" instructed Major.

And there, to our wondering eyes, at a point about 1 1/2 feet from the hub of the tail rotor, each blade of which is 5 feet long and at the lowest point of a parked huey the tail rotor reaches is about 5 feet off the ground, so the hub is about 10 feet off the ground, embedded in the leading edge of the blade was the remains of bunny teeth, fur, and blood .

Now I don't know how high a German Bunny can hop, but even considering that the tail rotor was within a foot of the ground, that rabbit had to be at least 5 feet in the air when I dispatched him to bunny heaven .

I just wonder what the poor rabbit's last thoughts were?

Little Miss Hilton

Apparently has enough pull to spend only 3 nights of a 45 day term in the Pookie.

Do you need further evidence that our once Grand Republic and the Rule of Law based on the Constitution has been flushed down the old porcelain crap receptor.

Any more evidence needed that the old maxim "He who has the gold makes the rules" still holds true.

Now this is a silly thing for me to be concerned with. Paris Hilton is a whorish slut, whom her parents enable to do just as she damn well pleases. The once proud name of Conrad Hilton will forever more be associated with his granddaughter. Bet he's looking on in disgust from where ever he is, if there is an afterlife.

Even Kudzu wouldn't grow on the lack of soul in her.

Reassigned my redneck ass.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

How long............

...........will it be before this happens in our playground?

DEMANDS for a ban on “un-Islamic” activities in schools will be set out by the Muslim Council of Britain today.

Targets include playground games, swimming lessons, school plays, parents’ evenings and even vaccinations.

See previous link to LL in musings below.

There is lots said about those good ol' boys with their guns. Would even this bring them out?

We tend to consider our family's and homes and secure jobs before seriously thinking about that. I know I do.

I said many times that if I'd not had a wife and daughter back in the world, I would have extended my tour of duty indefinitely. I still consider that if ( big word that ) I had no one but myself to think of, I just might hit the road with an old pickup and camper and all my weapons.

When to start would be the first consideration. Where? would be the second.

Idle musings tonight in the safety of the kudzu. But I've and eye cocked for goats.

Damn it ! ! !

Where shall I go?? How shall I live??

Monday, June 04, 2007

Do we make a.........

...........Difference here? Do any of the words written change the future?

Allow me to spin a little tale if you don't mind.

I was raised in the country. On a small dairy farm owned by my parents. We might not have had a lot of money, but we sure ate good looking back at it in my memory. Hogs that we raised on corn we grew and milk that we couldn't sell. Beef raised on grass and feed we mostly raised. Vegetables raised in a garden that I hated to work in as a child. New clothes and shoes each year before school started. My parents only graduated high school, but wanted us to go further than they did. We would have too, if we hadn't wanted to leave home so bad to strike out on our own. Thinking that we could certainly do better than they. Because there was the reality of a hard life at work at home. Looking back, I'm not sure it could have been better, but we might have responded to it more intelligently.

I always wanted my way and more. After only 3 months of college, I married the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Mostly I still see that image, although only in my minds eye. Sometimes I say half in jest that we've been married 20 happy years.........
..not too bad out of almost 40. And maybe I'm counting a few too many. She's tried to rid herself of me many times, but I was too stubborn to leave, or maybe just didn't have enough sense. But we have a fine set of children and grandchildren that we both love.

I elected to join the army after a year and a half of marriage. This was in '69. I received my draft notice the day I came home from signing the papers to enlist. There was no doubt that I'd go off to war, only whether I'd manage to get to fight it with my preferred weapon, an AH1-G Cobra gunship. When my orders to 'nam came she was near term in her first pregnancy. I left when the daughter was 5 days old. I look back and see how that must have seemed like I abandoned them both. Starting from the day I left to go to basic.

But, I survived to return. To watch that little blonde curly haired little girl charm the hearts of the Germans at my next duty assignment. Shortly after leaving that assignment for Washington State, my father died, and I resigned my warrant to come home and take over the farm. Just as the army did, it required more of me than I gave to her. And like many viet vets I felt betrayed by my own country and it caused me more than a little hurt which sometime found release by violent treatment of the cows and vulgar language in an almost constant stream. And I realized that I was missing a component of my life which I shed in my teens. A religious component.

So I sought for a direction to travel in. And I found one. After much searching.
Much prayer, until one night I woke to find a strange man standing at the foot of my bed, 2:10 in the morning, my wife sound asleep on the other side of the king sized bed. And through mind meld or something, he told me to accept Christ and be baptized. Which I did 2 days later, with my wife off at work and the kids at school. Says something about how close we were doesn't it. I was active for a while, but none of my family wanted to go with me, and pretty soon a man gives up trying to drag the mule to water only to have them not drink.

10 years later, I was running a small sawmill at our place in the middle of the woods, when a man drove up in a battered blue van. Said he was from the church and was looking for, as it turned out, me.

Now I hadn't been to church in years and had moved 80 miles from our old home. But somehow my name had been sent to the local branch and here he was. We talked of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and at last I got around to telling him of the nocturnal visitor so many years before. Because it still remains more vivid than almost anything I've ever done. I had often wondered why that visitor came to me when most people never had that experience. And I wondered if there was some great work that I was to do. The man simply looked at me and said "he wanted you in church". And so I go, not as often as I should now I guess. But for 12 years I felt that I was touching peoples lives in a positive way. And I could sometimes see the hurt on my wifes face as I would get ready on Sundays, and leave her for 4 to 6 hours. But she didn't complain, only endured.

So now I spend more Sundays with her, but I wonder, will we ever have again that closeness we had in our youth, when we clung together because it was us against the world.

I started this post intending to rant about a post over at LL’s, but I guess I needed to see what was under the Kudzu today, and trust me, I didn't look as deep as I should have.

Maybe another day.

Prayer Request

Please send up prayers for Kat and her family, especially her husband. A tireless worker at supporting and remembering our troops. They deserves our prayers and thanks.

I learned something new today...............

In an email from my brother in law. Retired major in the reserves. I rarely hear from him in person. A wonderful quiet guy, he has worked most of his working life since leaving active duty as assistant chief, or chief security guy for places as varied as Cape Canaveral, high grade think tanks, super computer companies and a stint as security chief for the company charged with rebuilding the part of the pentagon damaged by the suicide plane that wrecked one whole corner and took many lives on 9/11.
He's also been a loving husband and stepfather to my second oldest sister, who I think turns 29 soon.

I heard nothing about this ceremony in any newscast or blog, so I pass it to you as it was sent to me.

Subject: A Memorial Day Must read

Joseph L. Gallowy is the co-author (with LTG Harold G. Moore, USA Ret) of "We Were Soldiers Once...And Young." I think you will find this interesting.


First I heard about this Friday parade at the

Pentagon. Isn't it "newsworthy" enough for the mainstream
media?? Brake

A must-read for Memorial Day

McClatchy Newspapers

It's that time of year again. Memorial Day weekend is the beginning of summer fun for most
Americans, and as I've done before in this space, I want to pause to take note of the real reason there is a Memorial Day.

It's meant to honor and pay our respects to those Americans who've given their lives in service to our nation, who stand in an unbroken line from Lexington's rude bridge to Cemetery Ridge to the Argonne Forest to the beaches of Normandy to the frozen Chosin Reservoir to the Ia Drang Valley to the sands of Kuwait to the streets of Baghdad.

Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military hospitals.

This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.

Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Web-log of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America Web site.

"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands here.

"This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew. Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area. The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares.

"10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.

"A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.

"Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in the burden ... yet.

"Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.

"Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade officer.

"11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. `My hands hurt.' Christ. Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts.

"They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.

"There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade in the past.

"These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every single Friday, all year long, for more than four years."

(Copyright 2007 by Robert Bateman; reprinted here by permission.)

Thanks, Bob, for this Memorial Day gift.

Saturday, June 02, 2007


.........just when you think it will never come again, a light rain over the area brings some much needed moisture to the area. Makes me glad to see hurricane season as this is courtesy of a tropical storm from the Gulf. We're just on the edge of the path, but there may be more tonight and possibilities for the morrow.

Spent much of the morning over the hot plate in the back yard. This afternoon however was the celebration of Callie's 1st birthday, which is officially the 5th.

Oh, My, there was feasting. Down to the other grandparents house on the lake where we dined on 2 varieties of deer tenderloin. One cooked on the grill and tasted like the finest prime rib you ever tasted, the other cooked in the oven in marinate and covered with foil to steam it to perfection. Also fresh, as in caught this morning fresh, white and striped bass, along with one large mouth bass and a flat head catfish, all filleted and deep fried outside in the fish cooker. Slaw, potato salad, two crock pots of pinto beans and assorted other comestibles.

Afterward, ice cream cake for the birthday girl, which she dove into head first and was blowing ice creame bubbles from her nostrils.

Did you know they can put an edible picture of someone or anything on the icing of any cake now. Still trying to figure that one out. Got to literally eat the birthday girls elbow.

Afterwards much ohhing and ahhing of presents as they were unwrapped.

So the top button of the pants is undone and the belt fastened 2 holes larger this evening.

The 2 grand children are in the bed, if not quite asleep. I have to creep in and threaten with dismemberment if they don't shut up and go to sleep. Back they go tomorrow to the loving arms of their parents, who were warned this evening to prepare for their return, in spite of their objections.

All in all, considering the rain which was awarded a thousand points, not a bad day.

Friday, June 01, 2007


... breath sigh of relief. Today wasn't so bad after all. Even got a nap in this afternoon.
Took the grand son (7) with me to the pawnshops today. He was very well behaved with the exception of wanting everything he saw. But relatively quiet about it, unlike at home, where his mouth motors a mile-a-minute. He's always had a difficult time communicating because he will not look at your face when he talks. Never learned to associate sounds with the positions of mouth and tongue. So I work on that and make him speak more slowly. He wants to jumble all the sounds together and my old ears can't make turnips from tornadoes of what he's trying to say.

We got back shortly after 12 and his grandmother suggests she'll take them both to her sisters and let them swim in the pool. Wear them out so they'll go to sleep early is my response.

Now can anyone give me a good reason to let a 9 yr old girl have a cell phone with text capability. Drives the wife crazy. Just enhances mine. Spoiled brat is calling everyone and pouting about everything. That's gonna cut the visit short. Guaran-damn-teed.

What in the world did we do back in the stone age, when all we had was a party line phone in the corner at home and no one used it except in emergencies.

Just one more addition to the noises in my head.


.........may be a lighter than normal for the weekend. Two grand children, aged 7 & 9 have come to visit. Talking like today will be the last chance and they're eager to get everything they'll ever have to say, said right now. .

Grandparents tend to spoil grandchildren. These their parents give in to every whim and I get stuck with the authoritarian role.

Those who know me realize that I would take eagerly to the role of Supreme Ruler of the World, and kinda like that fairey queen in Lord of the Rings.........everyone would love me...........and fear me.

Those who have to work today, take care.

We'll be spinning like Rapunzel this afternoon.