Why do we let this go on?

NOW THIS really chaps my ass.

Can you give me one good reason that we have for allowing these bastards to keep their headquarters on American soil?

Soil that our founding fathers fought for. That good men and women worked to turn into productive farm land. That entrepreneurs turned into cities of commerce and industry. Soil that was the scene of bloody struggle for individual rights. Soil that raised sons and daughters who went, and even today go to foreign soil to try to ensure that everyone in the whole world can enjoy the freedoms that we posess. Soil that we today are in danger of losing unless we wake up sufficent people to the dangers from without and within this once great nation.

My roots are deep in the red soil of the foothills of Georgia, and this nation, and like Kudzu will be hard to pull from, but, even Kudzu can be killed if the poison is continuiously applied, or if the goats are allowed to graze all the time.

On the move

We inked the option to buy from our purchaser today. Boy did we get hosed. No one to blame but myself.

Fortunately we will have enough to move into an empty house I was trying to sell.
Maybe even enough to start a new little start up company with a friend from the church unit I used to attend. Keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

Talked to another friend and he and his partner just happen to want to do something near where we'll be going. Some possibilities there also.

Lil' Toni! told me that when God closes a door he opens a window. Praying for that, and greatful for blessings already received.

On the upside, the wife is glad we'll be moving into a house with as she says, "Real Floors".

I know kudzu grows there. Some in the back of the lot.

The love of money is the root of all evil.

Didja ever notice that some people can never have enough?

Didja ever know a person who always has to have their cake and eat it too?

Didja ever see a person who would dump his mothers body out of the casket if he needs it to stack his money in? Or he thought he might get a refund on it.

Why will some people who claim to be good (_________) (insert what ever religion you wish here) forget all about it when they smell blood in the air.

You can't take it with you.

One old mizer loved his gold so much that he begged and prayed to be allowed to carry his to heaven with him. When he got to the customs table just outside the pearly gates and his suitcase was opened, St. Peter asked, "Why'd you bring asphalt with you?

Do you really believe that the size of your mansion in heaven will correspond to the one you left behind?

Did you ever notice that many of our servants in the legislatures come out much richer than when they went in?

Did you ever wonder, 'why do we keep electing them'?

Blogging may be a little sparse, (so what's new) for a while. Moving in the near future. Maybe if I'm a good boy there'll be DSL or Broadband available.

Try to stay out of the kudzu. Little japanese children will go to bed hungry if you trample all over it.

The Night the lights went out in Georgia

Wow boy did the blackness ever get to me last night. May have to up the dosage of a few things.

Just a little self pity party people. Nothing to see here. Move along now.

With the Dawn of a new day hope springs eternal in this old breast. They say when one door closes another opens. I'm looking for that next door. Hope it's not the one to the outhouse.

Now that's something I haven't used in years. When I was a kid it wasn't uncommon at all for people to have an out house. Wooden shanty built over a hole in the ground. Boy, oh boy, is that ever a smell that you remember for a long time.

My parents house had indoor plumbing, but my grandparents eventhough they had running water and a bath room complete with the porcilan throne, kept an outhouse outside. Down past the cloths line where granny hung the washing to dry. She always put those leg formers in my grandpas work pants. She had her own steam ironing press in the sewing room where she would press all their clothes. Grandpa could not go out looking sloopy. Even if it was to go to the dairy barn to milk their herd of 100 holstein, guernsey, and jersey cows.

Just down below us lived a family whose water was drawn from a hand dug well with a bucket let down on a windless. Boy was that water good on a hot summer day.

Their outhouse was about 150 ft below the house just above a gulley which ran down thur the pasture and eventually to a creek. I remember Milton and I playing in that gully pretending to be Jessie James and his gang.

One day we saw his older sister go into the outhouse. I might mention that the sided of that particular outhouse were made of tin. Boy,was it ever hot in july on a cloudless day.
Being the bad and bold Jessie James Gang we snuck closer, closer, gathering fist sized rocks and clumps of red Georgia clay in our hands for ammo.

FIRE!!!! BOOM !! BOOM !! Hell and Brimstone rained down on the tin walls of that outhouse. Open flew the door and that old gal ran out of there scattering Sears and Roebuck Catalog pages and scrambling to pull her drawers up, curses raining down on mine and Miltons heads as we scampered off laughing histerically.

Needless to say we had to stay out until after dark, to escape the beating both of us so rightly deserved.

Travel tips

Where do you go when there's no place to go?

Who do you turn to when there's no one there?

What do you anchor to when the water is deeper than your anchor rope is long?

When there is no light at the end of the tunnel not even a train rushing to run you over, and there is no end to the tunnel, do you keep going, turn back, or sit on the tracks?

When it's harder to stay than go, why stay?

When the rock you thought you were standing on turns to quicksand, do your thrash for the edge or simply sink slowly out of sight?

No destinations in sight. Need travel tips.

No more room for kudzu, I'm throughly entwined.

AIRBORNE!!! HOO-RAH!!!!!

Lil' Toni posted yesterday in honor of all those fools who jump willingly out of perfectly good air-o-planes. As a former fling-wing pilot I look at them with a bit of disdane, but, that maybe because there is no good way to jump out of a helicopter that decides to discontinue beating its way thru the air.

I live only about 3 miles from Currahee mountain. During WW2 it was the training ground for the unit that was imortalized in Band Of Brothers. Now they have an annual celebration complete with the Army parachute team putting on a demonstration. I'd look up the unit identification but it's late and I'm too lazy.
Sorry Guys. No disrespect intended.

I'll bet there is so much ammo fired into that mountain that a metal detector would go crazy.

My friend Garfield was a young lad during that time. He said that every afternoon that they would just open up with the guns . The boys who could get leave or passes would come into town drink and just generally tear thing up until the MPs would arrive.

During my participation in the Southeast Asia War Games at Quang Tri, RSVN, our Avionics officer was a 2nd looey named Reginald. Reggie for short, and because he hated to be called Reginald.

An ROTC graduate with a degree in Electronic Engineering, he wanted nothing more out of life than to be an 'airborne ranger'. He begged the army to assign him to the infantry and send him to ranger school. But, they in their infinate wisdom knew that he would be so much more useful fixing (or more properly, supervising) the radios for our helicopters and command center.

Oh how he pleaded with them to make him a ranger! To no avail.

But not deterred, while attending the armys avionics and electrical school he coaxed, or more likely, bribed someone to cut him orders to allow him to attend ranger school at Ft Benning GA, down at Columbus, where he qualified and made about 6 or 7 static line jumps out of whatever airplanes they used in those days.

He arrived in Quang Tri all spit and polish and proud as a peacock about the airborne wings he wore on his chest and cover. Airborne he would shout as he walked about the camp. He would beg to be allowed to fly out with the infantry squad we carried in the huey that accompanied each hunter killer team.

No was the answer, he was much to important fixing radios. This only made him more determined to prove to himself and the world that he was John Wayne incarnate.

He bunked in the same hootch as I, and our bunks would have been next to each other except he pulled our wall lockers between us an made himself a cave in the corner.
He hung a towel over the opening for privacy. Since he was from up north somewhere, I called him a damn yankee, and he called me a damn rebel, which I took to be an honorable title.

Charlie liked to lob in a few mortor shells each evening between dusk and midnight just to keep us on our toes you know.. After a few times of running to the bunkers and being laughed at as FNGs, we soon learned to judge the closeness of the explosions and just lay in our bunks with a determination to simply roll under it if things got too close.

One evening we had mostly gone to our bunks, writing letters or reading, or simply wishing we were back in the world, when the shelling started up. As charlie started walking the rounds closer and closer I was considering that in a few more rounds it would be time to crawl under the bed.

Apparently Reggie was sleeping and unaware of the noise when one round got a little closer and woke him up. Yelling 'incoming' and trying to claw his way around the lockers and fighting the towel aside, he suddenly stopped and shouted "Don't move".
OOHH shit, what was it? Were the little bastards coming thru the hootch door?

As I stared at him with a modicum of concern and asked in a calm whisper "what is it" ? He replied "I knocked my contact lens out of my eye. Much hilarity ensued. With flashlights the errant lens was found and Reggie, embarrassed, creep meekly back to his bunk.

Reggie later had a chance to redeem his pride. A unit of APCs were just outside the wire and were pinned down by a lone sniper up in a tree. Un-freaking-believable. Armored personal carriers with at least one M-60 per track and possible a .50 cal. and no telling how many troops with M-16s and a lone sniper kept them pinned down for several hours.

Reggie hearing of this over the radio, and sensing his time had at last came, grabbed his rifle and jeep and sailed to the rescue. Arriving at the Tracks, he asked were the sniper was. Receiving the general direction, he using all the skills obtained in AIT sallied forth boldly, shot the sniper from the tree, and then told the APC unit they could proceed in safety.

I wonder where he is today?

For you Reggie. AIRBORNE!!! HOO-RAH!!!

Pitiful Pup

Wow ! Did we ever have a thunderstorm last night. Rain by the bucket fulls and thunder and lightening continiously for an hour and a half.

What made it especially bad was to watch precious pup turn in to terrified pup.
We of course know that he is afraid of loud noises, but, he was inconsolable last night. Around and around the inside of the house he would trot. From one room to the next hiding under the bed the table the computer desk.. Couldn't be held either, he couldn't get away from the noise there.

I walked to the door to look out and he ran up as is he had to go take a leak.
So....against my better judgement I walked him out on the porch and told him to hurry up & do his little thing. Oh No. He's not going to step off the porch without me going with him. So out we both went. Me telling him to hurry up and him trying to find the perfect spot. Finally the deed was done and we ran back inside.

As soon as we're back inside, he wants to go out again because I'm still at the door.
I'm as slow learner but this time I call for the umbrella. Out we go. Over toward the truck this time. Okay, I'll let him water the wheel. No, he wants to get in the truck. I figure he wants to get in to hide so, in we both go. I Crank it up and turn on the A/C which makes its own kind of noise. So he hides under my legs and the drivers seat and lays down. More or less calm. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst, he's probably an 8.

We sat that way for about and Hour. You tell me, who's the master here.

I guess he has his on patch of kudzu.

Did they wimp out?

Did the Israelis blink in their latest tete'a tete' with hissbolla (may pig piss be ever upon them)?

Sure looks like it at this time. But, I think that the fact that the US didn't outright come to their aid with material and other support had more to do with it than the fact that we have this UN imposed 'cease fire'.

In effect, I believe, the West backed down from Iran which was overtly shipping missles and supplies and also trained fighters into Lebonon. Had they sat on their hands the Israelis would have had an easier time of it.

What has happened in effect is to hand the Islamo-faciest-terrorist a major victory. Not in armed conflict but in preception in the arab and persian camp.

Until we in the west wake up, grow a set of brass balls, and start doing the hard things we will continue to receive the little supprises that the moo-slimes (may pig piss be ever upon them) have in store for us.

We need to carry the fight to them on their own terms. While it may go against the grain and offical policy of the government, we need to develope and send in covert operators by the thousands and kill the leaders, including heads of governments if necessary, by stealth, quietly, and sometimes by targeting by lasar from miles away.

We have the weaponery, we have some of the operatives. We just need to increase their ranks by many multiples, because many of them will not come back.

Just my view from deep in the kudzu.

Our Gang

Let me just start by saying that our "Group" at the VA this morning was most excellent in all extremes except one. (about which more later)

First off just let me say that I absolutly freaking hate to be in a lot of traffic.
My driving skills are of course above reproach. It's the other million and a half of the crazy commuters who have to make it to work on time or there'll be hell to pay, not to mention the mortgage and the car payments and the braces for the kids and the new boob job to keep the old chain and ball attractive to the pool boy to pay for.
That's why I live out in the country.... so every bug in the known universe can feast on my tender lily white flesh.

So there I am having gotten up before any sane person has a right to, to get on I-85 early enough so as to miss the "rush" hour traffic, even if it does mean that I get there from 1 1/2 to 2 hrs early.
So as to deny myself the joy of mixing it up with some idiot who was up half the night whacking off to internet porn and can barely see his eyes are so red.

When.............to my suprise right about half way between Indian Trail and Beaver Ruin Rd the Cell phone rings. And since I'm completly anal about the extension between my wrist and ear, I answer...hello?

Why's Bobby still in the trailer?

And it goes downhill from there.

So I was in a great mood when I got to the VA. Go into our little oasis away from all the sane and politically correct world for at least an hour.

Man, we were on a roll. We had most of the political and military problems in the known universe solved and were starting on the economic challanges of hard..ie Gold and Silver Money VS Good old greenbacked by nothing Federal Reserve Notes, when in walked Harold, about 5 minutes after we started (we being nothing if not efficient problem solvers, which probably explains why we are there every monday after all).

Now Harold is having lady trouble.........that is he got jelous of some dude who came to his birthday party thrown by his "then" girlfriend without his own dudette, and was whispering to his "then" gf.

Now in Harold's defense I must say that by his own admission about a bottle and a third of Bombay Sapphire had been consumed so things might have been a little hazy. So being all of about 5'6" tall and about 135 lbs he proceeds to clean the clock of said dude. Whereupon looking around and seeing the marveling and admiring gazes.......rather incredulous stares of the other attendees, he says to hell with all of this and leaves. I mean what the hell there is no way in hell he'll ever be able to get that girls skirt up again. But that doesn't keep him from trying lo these past three weeks. Of course we were all encourgaging of his persual of said ex-gf.
And all of our advice was all well intentioned and the best we could offer. You just have to keep in mind that between the twelve of us there have probably been no less than twenty five or thirty wives, so of course we could draw on our eperiences of many years to get him thru this tiny crisis. He should pay us for the help.

Oh, yes the one down part. The young lithsome, blonde intern with the exqusite ankles is leaving for more fertile fields. We wish her luck.

But I'll bet there won't be any kudzu there.

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.