10 Pound Sledge

Hangin up the hammer

2008-03-18T17:11:00.002-05:00

Well folks, the time has come for me to hang up the virtual hammer and pick up a real one. My family and I have some positive opportunities that will require blood, sweat and tear equity to bring to fruition and as I am sure you have noticed -my posts have been sporadic and half-assed at best.

If I can't commit the time to do it right, I'll commit no time at all. Thanks for stopping by and good luck to you.

Keep your powder dry,
Alan

Universal Health Care Part II

2008-03-02T23:00:00.000-05:00

In continuing from my previous post concerning Universal Health Care, I want to quickly post my views from a philosophical standpoint and question how Universal Health Care relates to a moral principle.

Back to my dictionary moral is defined as – “1. Relating to, concerned with, the difference between right and wrong in matters of conduct” skipping down to “3. Teaching, inculcating, principles of good conduct; proper, seemly...”

To consider if Universal Health Care is a moral principle, we have to look at what it is, how it's derived and finally how it is applied. Universal Health Care, even to a slow redneck, appears to be health care for all. Every man, woman, and child would be provided the benefit of well, health care. We have to draw some correlation to the benefit and a moral tenet. Is it proper and correct that every living, breathing, human be afforded health care? Is health care a right? Are we entitled? Is it Life, Liberty, the pursuit of happiness and free medicine for all who can't buy it on their own? Do you have a right to what you can earn? If you can't or won't earn it, shouldn't you have to depend on whatever charity and good will you can find? Why not Universal Food Care, Universal Habitat, Universal Transportation?

Let's talk about the means to provide Universal Health Care. I won't go into specifics on the financial ramifications of providing this “benefit”; at least not in this installment. How would the government provide Universal Health Care? It has to cost something, where does the money come from? Who pays and who rides for free? Does compulsory enrollment sound unequivocally moral? How about dispensation of entitlements through additional taxation? Is it moral to take from one who has and give to another who hasn't?

So let me see if I have the supporting structures of this moral principle straight. Mandatory enrollment; artificial price controls; those that do pay into the system pay on a sliding scale – the more successful pay more. Am I missing the boat here? How does making slaves of the working class, suppressing a free market, and punishing some of the brightest minds in the world equate to anything moral?

Don't mess with Texas

2008-02-27T21:24:00.007-05:00

Straight from an email I received, and copied directly to 10 Pounder, unedited (With the exception of changing "sh*t" to shit. I always thought that crazy and a piss poor attempt at politcally correct cursing which is complete B*ll Sh*t) This is for all the ladies out there who say I don't have a sensitive side...

This is an actual letter from an Austin woman sent to American company Proctor and Gamble regarding their feminine products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph. It's PC Magazine's 2007 editors' choice for best webmail-award-winning letter.

Dear Mr. Thatcher,I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.' Isn't the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying, jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you freaking kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong', or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull shit. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.

Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin , TX

Somebody buy this woman a beer!

Universal Health Care Part I

2008-02-22T20:15:00.002-05:00

When the reward for diligence is servitude, what will be the incentive to strive? When man's struggles for success are bought with blood, sweat and tears and he arrives at the finish line only to find a smiling jailer with shackles tailor-made for wrist and ankle, will he fall to his knees and shout with elation? Will he even start the race knowing what awaits him? When the juggernauts tire of persecution, who will push the millstone? When Peter quits, who exactly will Paul turn too?

Examples are plentiful, just pick up a paper and read what plans are being made to herald this and the next generation of Americans. Here is the example I chose to pick: Clinton May Garnish Wages to Achieve Universal Health Care.

I am going to take snippets of the article here, but you can read the entire article above.
Clinton on Sunday described universal health care as "a core Democratic value and a moral principle, and I'm absolutely going to do everything I can to achieve that."

Let's take a look at the statement above and determine what it means. First there is the statement that universal health care is a “core Democratic value”. Democracy (From demos and -cracy) is defined by my Little and Ives Complete Standard Universal Dictionary as – a. A form of government in which all classes, including the lowest, have a voice in government, directly or through their chosen representatives.

From the definition it is difficult to tie universal health care to the word democracy in a strict relationship. More likely Mrs. Clinton is artfully using a bit of verbal misdirection. The word democracy has been used synonymously and incorrectly, by most politicians regardless of the letters following their names, with “American Government”. If this is the case and Mrs. Clinton is using democracy as a substitution for “American Government” and calling universal health care one of its core values, it could easily be used as emotional ammunition if a logical line of questioning were introduced. This line of thought is further supported by the second part of her statement calling universal health care a “moral principle”. Therefore if universal health care is a core American value and a moral principle on top of that, dissenters can immediately be labeled as anti-American, morally bankrupt and dismissed out of hand. Or perhaps she really meant a core democratic value connected directly to her political affiliation and a “moral principle”, then by inference her political party's stance is moral, the opposition is not.

If we remove the middle portion of the statement, we are left with - universal health care is a moral principle...

And that my friend is a philosophical question that will have to wait because I am out of time.

Greek Comedy

2008-02-03T10:45:00.000-05:00

As I was doing a bit of blog-surfing the other day, I came across a post from Ms. West (soon to be Mrs. Bean) and I just had to share. It is titled "Americans With No Abilities Act (AWNAA)". Laugh when you read it, sit back and think on it and grab a box of tissues.

If You Don't Vote, You Can't Bitch

2008-01-29T23:01:00.001-05:00

Florida primaries are all but over here. I cast my vote for Ron Paul, along with what appears to be three to four percent of the rest of the republican voting population. Mccain looks to be running away with the republican votes. He may win the republican nomination; he may even win the presidency. But, he will have to do both without my vote. If Ron Paul doesn't make it to the ticket as an independent, it looks like I will have to write him in.

“Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.” - John Quincy Adams

“I find that the respectable man, so called, has immediately drifted from his position, and despairs of his country, when his country has more reason to despair of him. He forthwith adopts one of the candidates ... as the only available one, thus proving that he is himself available for any purposes of the demagogue. His vote is of no more worth than that of any unprincipled foreigner or hireling native, who may have been bought.” - Henry David Thoreau

Judo

2008-01-27T20:29:00.001-05:00

It is a good feeling to be completely physically spent. I just got back from my judo class and it was great. I don't think there is a single muscle that wasn't taxed during the session. I have been learning judo for nearly a year now and still enjoy it as much as the first day. It hasn't been an easy road, as anything to do with martial skills should not be. “Train like you fight and fight like you train” and all those other little pearls of wisdom. I am fortunate to have remained healthy and relatively uninjured. A chipped bone here, a broken toe there and a couple of dislocated ribs were the highest price I have had to pay for my mistakes in the dojo. They didn't stop me from continuing; they merely slowed me down (and forced a change in tactics) until they healed. And guess which lessons seem to be burned into my brain?

Sensei and I have become friends and he has turned out to be a great guy both on and off the mat. Part of our training is to visit other schools. Training for a day under a different judo instructor(s) gives you different perspectives on the same style as well as allows you to test your skills against other judoka that you are not used to training with. Today was one of those days. I met my sensai in front of the local rec center and we went up to class. Class began as I suppose most do with an introduction of the visitors and a bowing in. Class kicked off with a drill that was new to me; they affectionately called it “Cat Drills”. What an innocent name for medieval torture.

Cat drills start with a man in the middle of the mat who gets to sit on his butt. All other judoka line up along a wall and smile (optional). Why were they smiling? Well that would be because visitors have the honor of being among the first men in the middle and who do you suppose got to start off in the middle? You got it, “Tell'em what he wins, Bob!” Me.

One of the sensei picks out a participant to step forward, bow, and then try to make you a skid-mark on the mat. Ah friend, I can here you now, “Sounds like wraslen to me you big sissy.” You would be correct, with one major exception – most southern "wraslen" matches start with both opponents standing, or both in some position comprised of hands and knees; not so the Cat Drill. Remember I said the man in the middle gets to sit on his rosy red? His opponent starts the match standing. Matches are two minutes per opponent and go until either one of the gentleman chokes, arm-bars, or pins the other. Once one of the previously mentioned occurs or time runs out, the man in the middle stays and faces another without more than a ten to fifteen second breather. This continues until you either die, pass out, face every judoka in the dojo, or ask for a break. With even a basic grasp of the principles of leverage, momentum, stamina, and weight one should be able to figure which of the two judoka is at a serious disadvantage. When you are the sap in the middle, it forces you to change your strategy considerably – and as I understand it, the point of the exercise.

I had done something similar to this in a different martial art, but there were two minute breaks in between. Oh, and if you ever find yourself in just such a situation at the dojo, allow me you give you a little advice - don't bite; they'll figure it out from the teeth-marks. Just take my word for it. Yes ya yuppie, that was a joke. Where was I? Ah yes, breathing like a bull, muscles quivering like jello, I only just made it through them all without a break. After fair showing with the first two, I had my arse handed to me by the rest. The last three were of the instructor variety, but they were nice enough to make me work a bit before they painted the dojo with my forehead. If you have any doubts as to your level of physical fitness, try this drill and you will know exactly where you stand.

Once we were finished with Cat Drills, we moved on to standing randori. They asked for volunteers to have the first go. My sensai is a quick thinker because as I was catching my breath and mulling over the risk vs. reward ratio of just such a proposition he volunteered me. Well didn't that just make things much easier? No choice now but to step up, bow, and wait for “Hajime” (begin). I circled and fought for a hand grip, and in a flash went from thinking that I had my opponent out of balance and in a perfect position for a koshi guruma to wondering how my feet got so far above my head. It's times like these that you truly appreciate ukemi drills. Ukemi is a small group of techniques that teaches you to fall safely. No one said it was comfortable, but at least things are less likely to go snap-crackle-pop when you are hit with the earth. So where was I...ah yeah, flat on my back on the mat. Nothing to do but jump up and try again and then again. Randori is full force, neither holds back in his attempts to defeat his opponent. This is one of the reasons that I really enjoy judo. It's full contact and there is little danger that you will maim, seriously injure or kill your opponent inside the dojo. I can grab my opponent and attempt to throw him, choke him, joint lock him, and or control him with 100% effort. This translates well to “live fire” situations.

Now before anyone sends me a ridiculous mail telling me how judo sucks or how their martial art is the be all, end all, have a long drink from this tall can of shut-the-hell-up. Judo, like every other martial art, is a tool or set of tools. It is a tool that fits me and it is a tool that has many applications. It is not the only tool, nor does it fit everyone. There are techniques practiced on the sport side of judo that I believe would bring me serious harm were I to employ them in a life situation. Guess what? I don't practice those few techniques. But, I am not training to be a samurai warrior of the ninth circle; I have no visions of being a master judoku, surrounded in a dank alley by twenty assailants, gleefully disarming gang members left and right and cracking arms and legs, heads and necks with my all powerful judo throws and deadly atemi techniques. But I would be the guy to stay the hell out of that alley. I would be the guy to attempt to maintain an awareness of my surroundings. Because, you silly one, avoidance-fu is the best art to master; for nearly everyone else, the rest is insurance.

A great day at the dojo. I learned a lot and I look forward to the next.

Wayfaring Stranger

2008-01-23T11:22:00.000-05:00

Like many a savage beast across this blue planet, I greatly enjoy music. There is no genre that I listen to exclusively. I simply like good music and no, rap does not qualify as music in my estimation.

There is music and there is music. There are the tunes that fill the ear as a modest fare sates the stomach at meal times, filling and satisfying. Then there are melodies that do more than cause a foot or hand to tap out rhythm; there are songs that dance chills along the spine and force the hairs across the neck to stand straight as if touched by a chill wind. There are songs that reach out an ethereal hand and reach right into your chest and stop you in your tracks. They are a rarity, but such a song found me today and I wanted to share.

I was listening to pandora.com (and again a thank you to Dave for pointing out this site) while clacking away dutifully on work that pays the bills. General Taylor, by Great Big Sea had just finished and it was followed by a haunting voice that seemed to fill the air and from the first phrase I was pole-axed. I have actually heard the words before as it is an old hymn, but never have I heard it like this. The group is called Anonymous 4 and the song Wayfaring Stranger. I tried to play it again from Pandora but alas, I could not go back to repeat it. I jumped over to Amazon.com and downloaded the MP3 for .99 and it has been on repeat for the last 20 minutes. I'll not say anymore about it as I would like to hear what you think of the tune if you are so inclined to take a listen. You won't be disappointed.

Honey-do and Honey-please

2007-08-22T21:10:00.000-05:00

This weekend had been an eventful one with the start of a new honey-please project. Now I know you are scratching yourself and wondering just what exactly a “honey-please” might be. Well just sit yourself right back and let me 'splain it to you.

After a few years of blissful union, I came to a realization. You see, there are two separate lists our significant others keep with the detailed accuracy and acumen that would put a CPA to shame. These lists are the honey-do and the honey-please.

The honey-do is known by most married men and includes all the chores, auto repairs, home repairs, and various other sundry duties that fit into a domestic pairing. It is true that the lists vary in content about as much as our women do in personality and their men in capability. Hell, my great-grandma emptied her own spittoon as it was to heavy for Pappy. But the honey-please list is a horse of a different color.

The honey-pleases are things the Mrs. would love to have done around the home but don't need to be done. The honey-do line items are all things that need to be done sooner or later, but the little lady generally likes them done sooner. No, the honey-please list would include things like, “Wow, I sure would love to have a nice tile around the pool” or “You don't know how much I hate this old carpet. Hard wood floors would make this room really look nice.” Completing a honey-please request can bring you all sorts of benefits and yes, even time extensions on those eternal honey-dos. I need not go into what types of benefits. Use your imagination to come up with your own because I ain't telling you mine.

So the honey-please I started this weekend was replacing the tile in our bathroom shower. The existing tile was separating from the wall and “we” thought it would be nice to replace the tile with a more interesting color. While I was at it, I should go ahead and widen the entrance to the shower stall by removing a portion of the wall. Again, we thought it would give the appearance o a larger bathroom. I set to it this weekend, starting with the most enjoyable part of the process – demolition. With a sledge hammer (10 pounder of course), claw hammer, brick cutter and a drill all laid out and sparkling, I set the dust to flying. I knocked out the dry wall and tile where I wanted to widen the entrance and moved a stud over to the new edge of the opening for shoring. While nearing the end of the destruction phase, I hit a snag – Carpenter ants.

We had a minor invasion the previous month, but I had thought my search and destroy mission a complete success after spraying the perimeter of the house and giving a colony in an old oak the ant version of Agent Orange. After the treatment the few ants I saw in the house were dead ants. That is until I ripped off a section of shower wall that was secured to an exterior wall of the house. Out they came, the workers, the larger brood watchers, and their aerial brethren. I swiped the winged invaders to their death with all the rage of Kong. I stomped and kicked and cursed them all, but with little effect. I called in chemical support and treated the entire shower area and sealed the room with an evil grin. The next day the bathroom floor looked like an ant adaptation of the sacrificial burial ground in Apocalypto - where incidentally Mel got his Mayans and Aztecs confused. Well, the movie is filled with historical inaccuracies but it kept me interested. Where was I? Ah, the bathroom's minimal square footage and poor ventilation warranted an additional day to air out before I can finish the last portion of demo and move to the cement board installation phase.

Though the ants have slowed me down a bit, after a few beers reflection I figure it will all turn out for the good. Snags mean more trouble, which means more credit with the Mrs.. Silver lining my friend, silver lining.

Set Ups, Snakes, and Bunny Rabbits

2007-08-09T16:53:00.000-05:00

Last week while chatting with my amigo Dave, he asked me for my opinions on Marc MacYoung's books. I answered that I had read none of Mr. MacYoung's printed material, only that I was familiar with his website and the “Animal List” (both damn good by the way). Dave recommended the books without hesitation. Well I am one of those horses who doesn't mind taking a drink if someone goes to the trouble of leading me to a pond; so after saying our farewells I be-bopped over to my desk and went straight to Amazon to peruse the titles of Marc “Animal” MacYoung. I settled on two books and checked out. The wait began.

Pulling into the drive one Friday afternoon, I saw the small box, with a smile on the side, just outside the front door. I knew that all my weekend “penciled-ins” had just been erased. I made my way inside, put the box on the table, and greeted the family. As we caught up on the day's experiences, I nonchalantly made my way over the box with all the stealth of a 400 pound sumo in a hot pink mawashi. I happened to look up and see that I was getting, “The Look” from the Mrs.

“I just want to look, babe. I won't touch until you have finished your story.”

I ripped open the box and pulled out my two new friends, Cheap Shots, Ambushes, and Other Lessons and A Professional's Guide to Ending Violence Quickly. I flipped them over and read the backs of each as the Mrs. and I continued our conversation.

“You think that is funny?”

“Wha...? No, no, it was just this part about pogues and jungle gyms.” The glare I received told me I should step away from the books. The little voice inside my head became frighteningly loud, “Move Away!” I listened to that voice. Trouble only follows when I ignore it. I did not return to them until later that evening around 11:30.

Beer on the coaster (that's right, and it wasn't even a folded napkin this time but a real coaster)I threw my feet up on the coffee table and began to read Cheap Shots, Ambushes, and Other Lessons. The author had me hooked by page three of the introduction with his recommendation that I “crack a beer and sit back”. Beer raised in toast, I continued on. Four empties in as many hours later and I figured I should hit the hay. I finished my first read of the book the following evening. My impression of the first title is simply put – go and get it.

Marc MacYoung's style is such that he is sitting right there with you, adding to the empties pyramid, carrying on a conversation. This is no small feat when writing a how-to manuscript. His sense of humor only adds to feeling that he is one of your friends, letting you in on a few 'pearls of wisdom' that has kept him from becoming fertilizer.

This book will not teach you all the mechanics of how to throw a punch. Marc assumes that you either have training and/or are training in some form of martial art. Bastardizing one of his analogies -- he will not show you the operational characteristics of the tools themselves, but how the employ the tools you already have to reach a desired outcome – in this case, your living to fight another day. Get it? There may be parts of the book that you feel do not apply to you and that's O.K.. But there is something in this book that everyone can apply to their daily lives, even if they don't travel in the circles that the author has traveled. You know the adage, “Plan for the worst...”

I will warn you now, this book is not politically correct. You will find colorful metaphors throughout. That doesn't bother me at all, it lends the author an added feeling of 'no frills' honesty and besides – he talks like most of the folks I hang around. But if your panties are liable to get all bunched up, then I would recommend that you steer clear of this book. More is the pity; there are things written there that could save your life.

So go out and learn yourself something. I have to get back to learning how the pros do it.

Nemo me impune lacesset

2007-08-02T20:31:00.000-05:00

On May 9, 1754 old Ben Franklin pulled out his whittling knife and went to work on a wooden stamp that would become the first known political cartoon in an American newspaper. The stamp first appeared in the Pennsylvania Gazette and it depicted a snake cut into eight sections. Each of these eight sections represented one of the eight individual colonies. The snake was also shaped in such a fashion that the curves represented the northeastern coastline. The message was succinct – “Join or Die”.

Considering the current state of our education system, if you think that this had something to do with America's contention for independence from Great Britain, I would ask you to take a side trip over here and read a little about a war that went on from around1754-1763. After all, I didn't learn any of this while being indoctrinated, err I mean 'educated' in those hallowed halls we call the public school system. I did learn that you can talk someone into completing an electrical path for a welder using only their hands. But only if they're loaded and even then only once. Ah, but that is a story for another time. So go ahead and follow the link, I'll wait...

Good to see you back. We were talking about the snake that Mr. Franklin had carved and put to print in an effort to get the colonies to unify against France and her native allies in the French and Indian War. While there are many theories as to why he chose a snake, I think his thought process will be brought out in later years.

The symbol of the snake spread throughout the colonies and evolved in the few short years approaching the American Revolution. The snake shows up in a multitude of places and mediums. A notable appearance is made when Paul Revere adopts a snake fighting a dragon (representing Great Britain), in his newspaper The Massachusetts Spy.

Now we come to a letter signed, “An American Guesser” published in the Pennsylvania Journal on December 27, 1775. The author was later identified as none other than, you guessed it, Benjamin Franklin. Portion below:

[snip]
“I observed on one of the drums belonging to the marines now raising, there was painted a Rattle-Snake, with this modest motto under it, "Don't tread on me." As I know it is the custom to have some device on the arms of every country, I supposed this may have been intended for the arms of America; and as I have nothing to do with public affairs, and as my time is perfectly my own, in order to divert an idle hour, I sat down to guess what could have been intended by this uncommon device...”

[snip]
“I recollected that her eye excelled in brightness, that of any other animal, and that she has no eye-lids. She may therefore be esteemed an emblem of vigilance. She never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, ever surrenders: She is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage. As if anxious to prevent all pretensions of quarreling with her, the weapons with which nature has furnished her, she conceals in the roof of her mouth, so that, to those who are unacquainted with her, she appears to be a most defenseless animal; and even when those weapons are shown and extended for her defense, they appear weak and contemptible; but their wounds however small, are decisive and fatal. Conscious of this, she never wounds 'till she has generously given notice, even to her enemy, and cautioned him against the danger of treading on her.”

[snip]
“I confess I was wholly at a loss what to make of the rattles, 'till I went back and counted them and found them just thirteen, exactly the number of the Colonies united in America; and I recollected too that this was the only part of the Snake which increased in numbers.”

“Don't Tread on Me” inscribed below it on a Marine's drum? I guess jar-heads can come up with something on their own (wink). Actually it is unknown if the famous symbol originated from a stroke of ground-pounding creativity or if it was based on a design created by Christopher Gadsden.

Now I know you are shaking your head and asking me, “Now who in the hell is Christopher Gadsden and what is all this talk of Marines? You know the honor of the best branch of military belongs to the Navy.”

Yes my friend, you speak the truth in the latter and give me a moment, and I will answer the former.

You see, 1775 is when the Navy was created to intercept British ships carrying supplies to British troops in America and protect America's commerce. The first naval fleet would consist of four ships with the Alfred being the named first. The Continental Congress authorized the creation of five companies of Marines to accompany the Navy on their maiden mission.

Enter Christopher Gadsden, a Continental Colonel from South Carolina and one of the three members of the Marine committee responsible for getting the Navy underway. Before the sailors and Marines shoved off, Commodore Esek Hopkins (newly appointed commander-in-chief of America's Navy) received a standard bearing the “Don't Tread On Me” symbol, from Christopher Gadsden, to be used as his personal standard. Thus is became known as the Gadsden Flag.

The rattlesnake continued to appear throughout the colonies on money, in newspapers, and in many variations of flags, as America then had not made “Old Glory” the official flag. Notable standards containing the symbol were the Independent Battalion (Westmoreland County, PA), the Minutemen of Culpeper County VA, and the Continental Navy Jack.

You take fierce courage, whole-hearted independence, and a willingness to defend themselves and there you have it my friend -- a brief history on how one of my favorite symbols and what is represents came about.

Oh, and watch where you step.

Illegal Smeagol

2007-06-28T21:34:00.000-05:00

If I could spin a football like this ass-clown spins the news, you would see my glorious visage on a Wheaties box.

Senate Drives Stake Through Immigration

WASHINGTON (AP) - President Bush's immigration plan to legalize as many as 12 million unlawful immigrants while fortifying the border collapsed in the Senate on Thursday, crushing both parties' hopes of addressing the volatile issue before the 2008 elections

So can someone tell me exactly who stepped in, slapped both the Democrats and the Republicans like two dollar hookers, and shut down this bill? Who crushed both parties' hopes? Did they not vote? Fortify the border, you say? What the hell happened to the fence that has already been signed into law? How do you fortify open air?

The Senate vote (emphasis mine) that drove a stake through the delicate compromise was a stinging setback for Bush, who had made reshaping immigration laws a central element of his domestic agenda. It could carry heavy political consequences for Republicans and Democrats, many of whom were eager to show they could act on a complex issue of great interest to the public.

Heavy political consequences? Who would be the deliverer of these dire consequences?

"Legal immigration is one of the top concerns of the American people and Congress' failure to act on it is a disappointment," a grim-faced president said after an appearance in Newport, R.I. "A lot of us worked hard to see if we couldn't find common ground. It didn't work."

Congress did act, Mr. President. Their answer was 'no'. Granted, the 'no' was rendered in the softest of voices while uncomfortably shifting about in wet Depends; but today I'll take the limp-wristed hand shake over a firm middle finger.

Sen. Edward M. Kennedy, D-Mass., his party's lead negotiator, called the defeat "enormously disappointing for Congress and for the country." But, he added: "We will be back. This issue is not going away."

Still, lawmakers in both parties said further action was unlikely this year, dooming its prospects as the political strains of a crowded presidential contest get louder.

Translation - “We {Congress} have too much to do in the coming months to do the job you hired us to do. Why, we have reach-arounds to give, backs to stab, dirt to dig, ankles to grab, and mud to throw.”

"I believe that until another election occurs, or until something happens in the body politic, that what occurred today was fairly final," said Sen. Mel Martinez, R-Fla., the GOP chairman.

Here he is, one of my representatives from the sunny state of Florida, opening his mouth and “removing all doubt” - again. Other than the ridiculous combination of “fairly final”, I have to say I agree, but not with what he intended that statement to mean.

Until the voters run your sorry asses out of Congress, or until the 'body politic” surrounds your mansions and runs you out of your states – nothing is going to change. But wait, there's more...

"I don't see where the political will is there for this issue to be dealt with," said Martinez, who helped develop the bill.

I don't know what to translate that into, “We don't give a rat's ass.” or “Since they don't want to play by my rules, game over.”

Well kiss my gritz, Mel.

House Democratic leaders signaled they had little appetite for taking up an issue that bitterly divides both parties and has tied up the Senate for weeks.

Rep. Zoe Lofgren, who heads the House Judiciary subcommittee that was to write a version of the bill, said the Senate's inability to move forward "effectively ends comprehensive immigration reform efforts" for the next year and a half.

Nice try boys. We {The House} aren't going to touch this one. We know that if we don't choose a position, no one can blame us on either side of the issue. Then we can say catchy phrases like, “We were for it, before we were against it. I voted yes and then I voted no, on that bill. This is a bipartisan issue that requires compromise on both sides if we are going to move forward”

"The Senate voted for the status quo," the California Democrat said in a statement.

The vote already had led to partisan finger-pointing.

Howard Dean, the Democratic Party chairman, said it was "a reminder of why the American people voted Republicans out in 2006 and why they'll vote against them in 2008."

The measure was the product of a liberal-to-conservative alliance led by Kennedy and Sen. Jon Kyl, R-Ariz., that forged an immigration compromise intended to withstand challenges from the left and right.

They advocated the resulting measure as an imperfect but necessary fix to the current system, in which millions of illegal immigrants use forged documents or lapsed visas to live and work in the U.S.

The proposal would have made those millions eligible for lawful status while tightening border security and creating an employee verification system to weed out illegal workers from U.S. Jobs.

Wait a minute. You just said those workers broke the law using forged documents and lapsed visas to stay in the U.S..

You know, I could continue to pick this article apart. I can't call it slanted because a slant would infer that some portion of the line goes to the other side, somewhere.

But, you will have to go and read the rest on your own and yell obscenities at the screen and get the dogs all riled up and have your neighbors beating on your door asking you to simmer down. Better yet, why don't you write about it, or the next time you are standing around the water cooler and some bed wetting multiculturalist starts spouting off his/her drivel, speak up and prevent them from confusing your silence for agreement.

There is no easy solution to the illegal alien problems that plague our country. The massive number of illegals didn't show up over night and it will take time to find a viable solution. But I have an idea. Why don't we try stepping in the right direction. America has open wounds all along her borders. Why don't we sew up those wounds to prevent further infection and then, only then, can we look toward treating her illness.

Until we do something, my friend. They will do nothing.

Never let your silence be misconstrued as agreement.

Now I am going to find a beer to wash down this bile.

Hold my hair, I'm gonna puke.

2007-06-26T22:19:00.000-05:00

How to legally screw Americans 101...

The above clip is a joke, right? RIGHT?! Is it simply jobs that Americans won't do, Mr. President? More to follow...

Update:

I couldn't let this one simmer for the night, so here is an article I found on the above video clip.

What we got here, is a failure to communicate...

2007-06-25T10:44:00.000-05:00

Alright, stand back you pedestrians, this ain't no automobile accident.

Guilty

2007-03-08T00:57:00.000-05:00

Ex-Con Guilty in Fla. Girl's Slaying

John Evander Couey, may he burn in hell. The jury is on the right track, finding him guilty on all four counts of the indictment. I just hope they stay on it and give him the needle. I do not think that Jessica Lunsford’s father will ever know peace again, but perhaps he can walk away from the last day of trial and know that justice will be served. I think that it would be a small comfort, after losing his daughter, but anything other than the needle would just be a twist of the knife.

Remember Grendel

2007-03-03T22:07:00.000-05:00

Back in December, I had talked about quitting smoking. And quit smoking I did, for all of 3 weeks or so. I would be a hypocrite if I didn't tell you that I have been lipping the snuff since then.

"What brought this on?", says you. Well, I was looking over the My Space profile that I have set up, and it asks if you smoke/drink. Yes and Yes were my answers - because I couldn't find "Dip Snuff" as a selectable option.

Today, I was looking back over some of my older posts and found my "I have made up my mind" bravado about quitting smoking. Well friend, it looks like I was closer to "full of shit".

My apologies.

White hair, old bones, and the heart of a Dragon

2007-02-27T23:18:00.000-05:00

The sound of a fog horn announces your arrival. You finish the last of your drink as you converse with friends on what sites you want to see first. You make your way below decks to gather your cash and your sunglasses. The main deck is buzzing as patrons stand in line, awaiting departure. The ship has moored and the gang plank secured. You scan your cruise ship I.D. and make your way down to one of the tour vans, anxious to see what this strange new land and its people have to offer.

The tour guide is a professional. He hits all the hot spots of his native land, proudly providing you and your friends with a brief history on sites along the tour route, and all the time you wish to purchase trinkets and mementos from the stands that line the streets. The van comes to a halt in front of a few ramshackle tables where more merchants are hawking their wares in front of a ‘famous’ landmark. You don’t see anything at this stop that interests you, so you opt to stay in the van and relax. You lean left then right as folks climb across and around you to exit to the street. With an air of excitement, bartering begins. Money is exchanged for goods and there are smiles all around.

Then something goes terribly wrong.

From the shadows, three masked men materialize and begin demanding money, watches, and jewelry. What the hell? Is this a joke? Is this some pantomime that the locals play for the enjoyment of every tour group that happens this way?

One of the men shows a gun, the others flash the cold steel of knives.

Jesus, it all looks real from where you are sitting.

The merchants back away quickly, the worried looks on their faces giving credence to the reality of the situation. The man with the gun and his cronies grow more agitated by the second. The timber of the gunman's voice rises as the muscles around his neck tighten. He places the gun against the temple of a female tourist. He is nearly dancing in place as his head whips in one direction and then another. Money, he wants in now!

What would you do?

What if you were over 70 years old?

Although I have taken some creative license with the story, the core facts remain intact. This did in fact happen in Costa Rica to a tour group from Carnival Cruise Lines. Below is taken from one news source (Associated Press). If you wish, I am sure you can search out more articles on this incident.

February 23, 2007
SAN JOSE, Costa Rica (AP) -- An American woman, exploring Costa Rica with a group from a cruise ship, says she thought it was a joke when three men armed with knives and a gun tried to hold them up.
But then, one of the masked attackers held a gun to her head. Clova Adams says that's when another of the tourists -- a U-S military veteran in his 70s who was trained in self defense -- came to the rescue.
Police say he jumped out of the van the Americans were using, and put the gunman in a headlock. They say the American struggled with the robber, eventually breaking his collarbone and killing him. The other two men fled.
Adams, speaking from the Carnival Liberty cruise ship, says she thought she was going to die, until her fellow passenger came to the rescue.
The U.S. Embassy confirms what happened, but it isn't identifying the American who rescued the group.
Costa Rican officials say they won't charge him with a crime, because he acted in self-defense.

I just wanted to tip my hat to this gentleman, whoever he may be. He is a hero in my book, and the world could use more people with his spirit. I think at 70, running was less of an option. Placing his life, and the members of his group, in the hands of ghouls was not an option at all.
Talk to ya soon.

It's...It's...Alive!

2007-02-25T00:30:00.000-05:00

The Southern Literary Syndicate (sLs) has now officially launched. You will find the links on my sidebar under a separate heading. Go on over and take a look. You won’t be disappointed.

Talk to ya soon.

Bueller...Bueller...

2007-02-19T01:09:00.000-05:00

No, I have not been arrested, deported, kidnapped, or gotten high on mushroom tea and run off to join a nudist colony. What I have done, is join the My Space community. You nailed it; bringing down the quality of the blogosphere was not enough to sate my maniacal plan of brainwashing my fellows and starting a beer drinking cult of misfits. I have targeted My Space to aid in the spread my virtual fungus. No use spraying your screen with jock-itch-be-gone as I have built up an immunity to these types of assaults.

I am proud to announce that I have been invited to join a writer’s circle of fellow southerners whose literary talent far exceeds my own; the name of which is to be “The Southern Literary Syndicate”. Within this circle you will find published authors (I am sure my friend, Dave Bean, will be among the published members when his book is completed), other wordsmiths of the highest caliber, and me. Below you will find an announcement, sent out to My Space friends, by none other than Mr. Liam Jackson as to the upcoming launch:

The Southern Literary Syndicate (sLs) Launches Feb. 23rd!
And what, you may ask, is the Southern Literary Syndicate?

The Syndicate is the collaborative effort Liam Jackson, Dave Bean, Nitemareseraph, Perks, Guy Scott, and Alan Deal. Our purpose is to provide you, gentle reader, with essays and humor pieces that, each time, leave you with a personal glimpse of the Deep South. We offer pictures through our words. Sometimes you'll get a polaroid. Other times, you leave with an entire tapestry. But you'll never, ever leave empty of soul or spirit.

The contents of the various essays are well seasoned with Southern flavor to be sure. However, I'm betting that regardless of your home state, region or country of origin, you'll find some common denominators that span the Mason-Dixon, wreck old barriers, and establish new insights into Life, in general.

Music reviews of Southern indy groups, movie and book reviews, essays and humor, and perhaps an interview or two with people of note. You'll be able to find it all within the blogs of our charter members.

For a sample of the fare we intended to offer, I recommend you visit the blogs of our Charter members. Perhaps begin with David Bean and his continuing saga of "Moose."

More on the upcoming launch as the week progresses.

I will not be abandoning my home here, just in case any of you were being hopefully optimistic. For now, I intend to keep My Space nonpolitical in content. I will continue to rant and rave here on those particular subjects that boil the blood and beg for release.

At launch date, you will find the blogs of the charter members, for sLs under a separate heading on my side bar for future reference.

So with those hallowed words that preamble many an interesting southern occurrence, “Hey ya’ll, watch this!”

Bubbly

2007-02-13T23:19:00.000-05:00

I wanted to give you an update to let you know that I was pleasantly surprised when I popped the top off one of my little brown gems of cider. Carbonated hell, it started foaming at the mouth like a mad dog. In fact, I think it is a little over carbonated and I will need to reduce the priming sugar in my next batch.

The Mrs. likes it, but has requested that the next round be sweeter.

“Sweeter? Sweeter! Woman this is a drink for rugged men. Men don’t drink sweet cider; we drink it…why we drink it just like this here that I made. A man’s drink, you hear me? Oh, while I have your attention Miss ‘sweeter’, do these pants make me look fat?”

Talk to ya soon.

I remember

2007-02-09T00:18:00.000-05:00

My grandmother died from cancer two years ago. We called her Nanny, this title given to her by the eldest of the grandchildren. I have many fond recollections of her as I grew. I wanted to relate a particularly interesting story that I can recall as if it happened yesterday.

I was around 10 years old at the time and happened to be at my aunt’s house. My mother is one of 4 children and they are all very close. Close not only in relationship, but in living proximity as well. My mother’s siblings all lived within a 3 mile radius of my Nanny (until my Dad took Momma and us kids away to New Jersey); the closest was my aunt Judy who lived directly across the street from Nanny and Poppa. My aunt Judy had two children, a boy and a girl. The girl is three years my senior and the boy only one. My cousin, Vince and I were very close growing up; blood brothers in fact as we had at one time completed the (in our minds) sacred indian ritual of cutting our hands and then pressing them together. We did nearly everything together before I moved north, into Yankee territory, at the end of my fifth grade school year. But after the move we still spent our entire summer breaks together when Mom brought us back down after school cut us loose. I have quite a few interesting tales about our misspent youth, but I will save them for another time. I know, I know, this is supposed to be about my Nanny, but I thought that I would give you a quick synopsis of the main players in this particular moment in history, and this is my story.

Ten years old and playing in my aunt’s front yard with my cousin, Vince. We were doing all the normal things that ten and eleven year old boys do: climbing trees, digging holes, mooning passing cars, and turning over rocks looking for critters to put in his sister’s underwear drawer, nothing special - the basics.

We had worked our way around the front yard, effortlessly jumping from one boyish task to another. That all changed when I picked the game we both loved to play. With an excellent ten year old's copy of an old kung fu film, I called to him as I stood from my rock and pointed in his direction. “Your Kung Fu skills are very good… But I am a Chin brother, and my Kung Fu skills are…” beating on my chest with a closed fist, “top notch!” With a scream of mock rage he charged and I did the same, thus starting a full on, lip-synch out of synch, kung-fu war.

That we crossed multiple martial styles, cultural boundaries, and imaginary weaponry in our live action movie mattered not – we were ten and eleven remember? Rocks became shuriken, dirt a special blinding powder (incidentally, quite effective when it found its mark); mops and brooms on the carport transformed into spear and staff; sticks from the plethora of oak trees in his yard became mighty swords. We were screaming banshees as we fought from the front to the backyard and back to the front. We climbed fences and rolled into the neighbor’s property, only to jump back up and climb back over into aunties. When not shrieking, we were acting out various parts of all the Kung Fu Theater movies we had soaked up over the last few years. Things were going great until cuzz did the unthinkable; great until he threw down the gauntlet; he killed my Master. He didn’t just kill him, but he did it in my imaginary school, in front my imaginary clan.

Now if you have seen nearly any chopstick flick, you know that when an adversary kills his opponent’s master, “It is on!” With a renewed fury we tore at each other, and ended back up in the front yard. For the grand finale, we both squared off and sat down to meditate (read a breather for two winded kids that just happened to fit into their plot line).

What’s this, a plot twist? The front door to my aunt’s home opened inward and I saw my Nanny standing there with her back to the screen door as she continued to converse with those inside. Here was my chance. Know it or not, she had just become my enemy’s Master. I grinned and stood slowly, “Your Master will die. My kung fu is strong.” My nemesis answered, “Her power is too great…prepare to die.” I picked up my sword and took a stalking, circular, out-of-the-way approach toward the screen door. In my mind I was a ninja now and my prey was in sight. About five or so steps from my quarry, all hell broke loose.

Farewells said, my Nanny turned and pushed on the, always slightly ajar, screen door. As she crossed the threshold something fell from the top of the screen door. It fell across her head and shoulders and she did what we all would do with such an occurrence; she reached up to brush or pull whatever it was off of her. At this point, I figure it moved and she quickly turned her head and found herself looking into the eye of a three foot snake. My grandmother let out a screech that would do any specter proud and began beating herself about the neck and chest. She spun around madly, flailing and wailing at the reptile. I had about two seconds to laugh because as she spun around to face the front yard her brain threw the “flight” switch because apparently “fight” was not working with the desired expediency. This old lady went into a dead sprint. I had never before, nor would I ever again, see her move that fast. She bore down on me in a flash, her eyes wide in panic and it was all I could do to dive out of her way to prevent being trampled. She ran right past me and out into the street still screaming and throwing her arms around her head and neck as if possessed. I think she stopped, after about a hundred yards or so, in the middle of the street with my aunt Judy on her heels to help, check on, or save her. My cousin and I ,full of concerned laughter, did what caring boys do and ran to look for the snake.

A quick scan told us that the snake probably vacated the premises as fast as my Nanny did. As I turned back to call out my assurances that the snake was gone, I spotted a ball of fur hanging from a low lying branch and I knew instantly what it was; that nasty old oak tree had seen fit to snatch my grandmother's wig right off of her head as she sped beneath it.

I don’t know if it is youth or that I was just that devious, but I recovered my "Chin brother" character quickly and bent down to retrieve my sword. “Your Master has left her secret power behind and I will make her weak,” I yelled as I ran the few steps to where the wig (talisman of power) dangled precariously from an oak branch. With one small jump and one mighty swing of my sword-stick, I brought the wig to the ground and commenced to whipping its ass. No more would it hold power for my cousin's Teacher. Knowing that he was obviously defeated, cuzz ran up beside me and brought his sword to bear and aided me in vanquishing the Wig of Evil. Our entire chi reserves had been spent on this momentous conflict, so we were oblivious to, and no match for, the powerful head smacks and ear grabs that pulled us away.

Having both mastered the coupled look of complete innocence and utter confusion, we cried out in unison, “What…What did I do?”. When that didn’t work, plan B – point at each other while indignantly yelling “He started it!”

I think it was the hilarity of my dear old grandmother's actions, and the situation in general, that saved us both from the sound whipping we probably deserved. The mangled wig even won a reprieve from the trash and became a centerpiece for a story told many times.

It is memories like these that I remember most vividly when I think of my Nanny. I hope she can run without tiring and walk without fear of serpents doing aerial insertions, wherever she may be. Maybe she doesn't even need a wig.

Talk to ya soon.

Questions

2007-02-05T00:58:00.000-05:00

Unanswered questions:

How can anything that is completely perfect create something so entirely flawed? Was “In his image” a blatant mislead?

How can unconditional love be something to strive for? If a treasured gift is given and the recipient belittles it, steps on it, rolls it in feces, and then spits in the givers face, what intrinsic value does the gift have if the owner doesn’t protect it?

Why does society measure someone’s worth by what they do for others?

Isn’t the imposition of morality through force, which has nothing to do with protecting life or liberty or property - the latter two necessities for the first, just another form of tyranny?

How can we do whatever we wish as long as we say we are sorry? How can a man murder, steal, rape, and destroy, say he is sorry and be guaranteed rich rewards in the hereafter but someone who strives for peace, perfection, and respect of his fellow man burn for all eternity if he isn’t “saved”?

These are just a few of the more serious questions that I often ponder, with little satisfaction in the answers category. I know the context of these questions can be taken in a myriad of directions and many will read into them things that just aren’t there. So if you want to discuss them rationally, that’s what the comment section is for. If you don’t like this line of questioning, then go away. I have never heard the term “blind” used as an adjective before any noun to make it positive. Why is “blind faith” any different?

Talk to ya soon.

Birthday Reflection

2007-02-01T23:16:00.000-05:00

Time marches on and today I am another year older. My family took me out for a great dinner and I had a wonderful time. It seems that time spins faster the older I get, giving merit to the saying, “Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.” Don’t misconstrue that as a whine as that is not the tone intended; but my perception is changed as time passes and it seems to currently step in double-time.

As I reflect over the last year, I see so many things I should have done that I did not. There are no excuses, only reasons, and my number one would be apathy. At 33 there is so much I should know that I do not, so much I should have done and have not. ‘A work in progress’ will be the label I wear until I breathe my last. But that is life, no? As long as we continue to strive to better ourselves, as long as we stay in the fight, we live. It reminds me of a quote my Dad once printed out for me to read, with hopes that I would take it to heart. I was young and did not understand the wisdom of the words, but as I became older I realized it to be a most noble goal to aim toward and the only way to be truly alive. Thanks, Dad.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” - Theodore Roosevelt

In reflection I also grasp how truly blessed I have been. I could not have hoped for a better family than the one Divine Providence has given me.

I am proud to be able to call myself an American and live in the greatest country on earth. With all her faults and troubles, there is still no better place to be.

Happy birthday to all of you who were born today and may you have many more. May your next birthday’s contemplations bring to mind your great accomplishments and the resolve to overcome your bitter defeats.

We could use a man like George Washington again!

2007-01-31T23:24:00.000-05:00

I just got back from my martial arts class. I am enjoying it greatly though I am completely spent. Thought I would send you over to here to read of George Washington’s farewell speech. It is an excellent read and I would say wise council that applies even today – funny how truth is like that. He knew what he was talking about when he said:

“All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and associations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common counsels and modified by mutual interests.

However combinations or associations of the above description may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.”

That speech only gets better. Go on over and check it out. I am headed for the hot water bottle and a beer.

Talk to ya soon.

Tar-Heels need to Tar and Feather!

2007-01-28T22:46:00.000-05:00

You can skip the news for a day and count on the insanity being there when you get back. Let’s begin, shall we:

We have an article over at the Star News Online that has some jack-assed republican in the North Carolinian state Senate selling elevator tickets in a one story building.

Raleigh Citing the controversy surrounding the Dakota Fanning film Hounddog, the leader of the state Senate Republicans says he wants the government to review scripts before cameras start rolling in North Carolina.

First thing that pissed me off, why in the hell is everyone involved with Hounddog still walking around as free citizens? I have not seen this smear of a movie, but if what I am hearing is true – lude and lascivious acts on a minor, reckless endangerment of a minor, etc. The girl is 12 years old!

And yeah Senator Swaggert, that’s the ticket. I want you idiots to review scripts before the subsequent movies are shot in Tar-Heel country because you hold the high-ground when it comes to morality. Ah, but my friend, the article only gets better.

That system, said state Sen. Phil Berger, R-Rockingham, would apply only to films seeking the state's lucrative filmmaker incentive, which refunds as much as 15 percent of what productions spend in North Carolina from the state treasury.

"Why should North Carolina taxpayers pay for something they find objectionable?" said Berger, who is having proposed legislation drafted.

Hey dip shit, why are North Carolina taxpayers paying ANY taxes to have some beanie wearing sycophant come and burn some film in your state? Refunds up to 15% of the production costs of monies spent in NC while filming? Is this a joke? It is called a movie ticket you mental midget. If the fine citizens of NC or any other state want to see a movie, they can bee-bopp their ass up to the clueless teen, entrenched behind the dirty glass at the movie theater, and buy the “refund” to production costs.

"We want to see if this film is doable and a good investment for the people of the state," he said.

Yeah, and a few more intellectual statements like that and I might have enough fertilizer for my tomatoes.

Get yerself over there...

2007-01-25T23:30:00.000-05:00

Working on a post, but this ain't it. Here is some stuff worth reading.

My friend, Dave Bean, is pumping out quality prose at such a pace that I am getting down-right jealous. I couldn't write like that if I had a full month of sober and Strunk and White editing my rambles! If you haven't been there...as my Poppa used to say, GO ON GITONOUTTAHEER!

When your are done with that, you need to jump over to Blue Collar Republican and get an eyeful of news and opinion. After that you will need something to keep that aneurysm, that will be pushing against your skull, from exploding; I would recommend going over and reading another southerner's blog posts that will have you laughing so hard you will damn near swallow your tongue. His name is Liam Jackson and he is a published author of a book called, Offspring. I haven't read it yet, but I plan on picking it up as soon as the Mrs. gives me my allowance.

Talk to ya soon.

Keel-Yawl

2007-01-24T23:09:00.000-05:00

Looks like I will become a student again. This time, it will be in martial arts. I have had a smattering of instruction in Tae Kwon Do, nasty little tricks taught by a few friends, and more recently Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. There was also a miniscule amount of hand to hand training while I was a volunteer for Uncle Sam, but not enough to count (does Friday afternoon Kung Fu Theater?). Yes, that’s right, a military man. I spent six years in the Navy, working as a policeman for the United Nations. We just had to wear those disco bell bottoms instead of fancy pants with utility belts. Who in the hell can sing Y.M.C.A. properly, without the appropriate attire? But I digress.

A friend I work with recommended I take a little trip over to the town next door and check out this little school that offers multiple martial arts styles at a reasonable rate. Said gentleman’s daughter is dating one of the instructors and aforementioned father was impressed with previously disclosed boyfriend’s exhibited character (That was politician for - he liked the guy).

“First two lessons are free”, he says. Bastard knew that would get me all excited. So tonight I decided to cart my butt over to the school and let me just say ahead of time, I am glad I did. “Why?” you ask. Well just hold on a minute and let me tell you.

Driving out to the place, I passed it twice. When my friend told me the address and suite number, I automatically assumed that it was in an office park of some sort. A few phone calls and hanging my head out the window to scream obscenities at people who don’t put address numbers on their buildings later, I found it. Not an office building at all, but a warehouse. Now you uppity types can sneer if you want, but driving up to a martial arts school that his housed in a warehouse is a point in their favor, in my opinion. You see, I dislike pretentiousness. You see some schools of the martial variety that are all flashy posters, bright lights, neon signs, ‘We are card toting members of 15 martial arts associations’ airbrushed on their windows, and have an ATM machine just inside the front door. To put it mildly, they suck a big one.

So I get out and approach the building to find the exterior door propped open by a citronella bucket. Any of you in the south will know why. For the rest of you, the bugs down here are big enough to require clearance to land. Entering the dojo, my first impression was a good one. The room had tall ceilings, a large mat covering otherwise unpainted cement floors, old pictures of past students and friends of the instructors, various weapons, and the faintest odor of honest sweat.

The younger gentleman, who was to be my instructor for the night, met me with a firm handshake and quick appraisal – more positive signs. We chatted briefly of my past martial experience and what my expectations were for the class. I told him I would like to watch the class proceedings first and possibly join in later. With a nod he returned to the mat and his students. Given the choice, the class chose to work with the rattan sticks. Let me explain, tonight was a class in the arts of the Filipino Combat System. I watched as the sensei worked with the students in showing various techniques with the rattan. After he got his charges working on drills, he again asked me if I would like to join in. I agreed with a grin and kicked off my sneakers and socks, removed the plethora of tools from my cargo shorts and joined him on the mat.

I am not shy in saying that I don’t know something when I don’t. So after picking up a stick, I informed him that I really didn’t know any techniques in the FCS and I would love it if he just started from the very beginning. In this instance, that would be the proper way to hold the stick and we could go from there. He was an excellent teacher, and that is saying a lot. I have found being accomplished at a skill or set of skills, does not necessarily make one an accomplished teacher. He was overly gentle at first, which I informed him with a grin that he could work the maneuvers on me and if the pain approached my threshold, I was very familiar with the tap technique (tapping out). He nodded and stepped it up by increments as we went along. By the end, he was twisting, locking, turning, and dropping me like a vow of celibacy on a sultry Mardi Gras night.

No, I am not a masochist, but if you can’t show me that something will work on someone fresh through the door, I am not interested in what you have to teach. I was full of questions and he answered each to my satisfaction. Another plus for me, is the entire time he spent with me, he never lost track of where his students were and what they were doing. He would give them verbal instructions to correct a technique and would often excuse himself to step in and teach by showing where he felt it was needed. The pauses didn’t bother me in the least because being the nosy redneck that I am, I followed him and listened to what he had to say.

Before I knew it, time was up. We shook hands again, bowed, and took our conversation off the mat. My positive impression only increased when I inquired about prices. The gentleman quoted a price and I tried not to show my shock. I wondered if they were able to make any money at those rates (silently – I am not a complete moron) and my questions were answered when I was told that if I wrote a check that I should just make it out to the warehouse owner. That’s right, they just wanted to make sure to pay the rent and they were satisfied with whatever was left over to divide between the instructors. Let me tell you, it can’t be much. That ain’t just saying you have love for the art; that is walking the walk and a huge positive in my little southern book.

Just to cover all of my bases, I posed an inquiry to the wondrous folks over at the Animal List and I don’t truly expect to hear anything negative about this group. So unless some piece of drastic information comes my way, I will be joining up and working off the rest of this baby fat.

Keel-yawl! (That’s a southern karate yell, you hippy)

Talk to ya soon.

Look Ma, Bubba can read...

2007-01-22T23:38:00.000-05:00

I picked up a book at the local library called American Sphinx, The Character of Thomas Jefferson by Joseph J. Ellis. In conversation, I have heard Jefferson quoted on both ends of the political spectrum. I have seen him hailed as a Saint and as cursed as a devil. I have read but a few books on the man, and most take to one extreme or the other. But this book caught my eye as it promised to give an unadulterated view of a historical icon. An excerpt from the dust jacket reads:

“In American Sphinx, Ellis sifts the facts shrewdly from the legends and the rumors, treading a path between vilification and hero worship in order to formulate a plausible portrait of a man who still hover[s] over the political scene like one of those dirigibles cruising above a crowded football stadium, flashing words of inspiration to both teams”

I will let you know. Objectivity is an elusive animal to catch. But if Joseph Ellis can come close to living up to the promises on the jacket, I will be more than satisfied. More on this later.

Nothing to see here...move along

2007-01-20T22:10:00.000-05:00

The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy. – Sun Tzu

So it appears that our ‘friends’ the Chinese have been busy. While the rest of the world has been looking toward the Middle East, the Chinese seem to be wasting little time in building up military strength and tactical efficiency. Here are a few things that concern me about our giant neighbor:

Let’s start with this article concerning the Chinese shooting down one of their satellites. Perhaps this was a not-so-subtle reply to the changes in our National Space Policy where there looks to be a notable shift toward emphasizing security issues over the previous scientific. Our policy now also asserts the right to deny access to space to anyone “hostile to U.S. interest”. Hmm.

After reading this article, I decided to step out onto that ‘information superhighway’ and see just what one redneck, of average intelligence, could find out about the Chinese.

My first stop was the Annual Report to Congress – Military Power of the People’s Republic of China. This is a rather lengthy report, but it is an eye opener on how far China has come and where we surmise they plan to go. Here are a few interesting excerpts from the report:

“The People’s Liberation Army (PLA) is in the process of long-term transformation from a mass army designed for protracted wars of attrition on its territory to a more modern force capable of fighting short duration, high intensity conflicts against high-tech adversaries. Today, China’s ability to sustain military power at a distance is limited. However, as the 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review Report notes, “China has the greatest potential to compete militarily with the United States and field disruptive military technologies that could over time offset traditional U.S. military advantages.”

“China’s leaders have yet to adequately explain the purposes or desired end-states of their military expansion. Estimates place Chinese defense expenditure at two to three times officially disclosed figures. The outside world has little knowledge of Chinese motivations and decision-making or of key capabilities supporting PLA modernization.”

“PLA amphibious exercises and training in 2005 focused on Taiwan. In September 2005 the PLA held one large-scale, multi-service exercise that dealt explicitly with a Taiwan invasion. China has conducted 11 amphibious exercises featuring a Taiwan scenario in the past 6 years.”

“China continues to employ covert and illegal means to acquire foreign military and dual use technology. Individuals allegedly engaged in illicit technology transfers to China were arrested in the United States and Russia in the fall of 2005.”

On second thought, look here, there are just too many interesting quotes from that report. You are just going to have to go and read it for yourself.

Once you have read that, you can bounce on over to here and see what the Council on Foreign Relations has to say about a Chinese threat.

You put all of this together and I think we need to be keeping more than a casual eye on our Communist 'friends'. While I don’t think that China is an immediate threat to the U.S. mainland, connecting the dots looks to be drawing a giant arrow at Taiwan (or is it a middle finger?). The massive build up is not, in my opinion, an overkill Taiwanese engagement stratagem, but , in part, a hedge to keep America in check when they do decide to take back their wicked step children. Let’s also not forget that China is a monstrous consumer of resources and I think she has her eye on more than just Taiwan (second reason). Last but not least, let us keep in mind that she is a communist country and that she has a lot of folks to keep in line. Peaceably pacified, I think they title it. To put a satyrical face on the name PLA (Peoples Liberation Army) I think of Monty Python and the Holy Grail when Lancelot (PLA) comes to liberate his brother in arms Sir Galahad (the people) from the Castle Anthrax.

To keep this particular post from getting long and to keep from getting pissed off (currently in a good mood), I won’t even talk about the free up-skirts we have been giving China in all manner of military, tactical, and security issues. I will save that for another day.

Talk to ya soon.

Woo - Woo

2007-01-18T20:56:00.000-05:00

It seems that things have returned to a semblance of normalcy and the issue that I needed to take care of has been addressed (when it got up, I addressed it again!). So to kick things off, I thought I would share an email with you that had me checking my house for spy cameras.

Enjoy.

How women shower:

Take off clothing and place it in sectioned laundry hamper according to lights and darks.

Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown. If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.

Look at your womanly physique in the mirror - make mental note to do more sit-ups/leg-lifts, etc.

Get in the shower. Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah, wide loofah and pumice stone.

Wash your hair once with cucumber and sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins .

Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.

Condition your hair with grapefruit mint-conditioner.

Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes until red.

Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.

Rinse conditioner off hair.

Shave armpits and legs.

Turn off shower.

Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower.

Spray mold spots with Tilex.

Get out of shower.

Dry with a towel the size of a small country.

Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.

Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head. If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.

HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A MAN:

Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile.

Walk naked to the bathroom.

If you see wife along the way, shake wiener at her making the woo- woo sound.

Look at your manly physique in the mirror admiring the size of your wiener and scratch your butt.

Get in the shower.

Wash your face.

Wash your armpits.

Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse them off.

Fart and laugh at how loud it sounds in the shower.

Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.

Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs sticking on the soap.

Wash your hair. Make a Shampoo Mohawk.

Pee.

Rinse off and get out of shower.

Partially dry off.

Fail to notice water on floor because curtain was hanging out of tub the whole time.

Admire wiener size in mirror again.

Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.

Return to bedroom with towel around waist. If you pass wife, pull off towel, shake wiener at her and make the woo-woo sound again.

Throw wet towel on bed.

Woo - Woo! Talk to ya soon.

Break

2007-01-09T22:14:00.000-05:00

Taking a break for a bit. I have a few things that require more of my attention. Talk to ya soon.

Eh...Fiction?

2007-01-07T23:59:00.000-05:00

I ran across an email I had sent out a while ago (4 years) to a site that offered cooperative fiction writing. Although it was only an intro and ran but a few paragraphs, it was my first honest attempt into the fiction writing universe. The original mail was meant to be a story starter, but shortly after submitting it, the site went down and never came back. I took that as an omen and never bothered looking for another venue to pursue it. Yes, I know I could have not used that as a lame excuse to stop and just pursued the story for myself - I didn't. Anyway, I came across it by accident in my 'Sent' folder and thought I would post it up here.

Yes, I know it sucks but I ain't making you read it. Remember all those buttons at the top of your browser that can take you to your 'Happy Place' if you don't want to stay.

---
No visions of epic struggles nor battlefields of glory danced in my eyes as I approached that fabled city. I came because I must. I tread the path of duty, every step bringing me closer to the gallows, the end of my morality. He knew this would end me. He knew he placed the blade against my throat and knew I would not, could not, withdraw.

With the last of his strength, he had given voice to my demise, “Will you do this for me, my son? Will you go to the Stone Hall and give yourself into its service, for the time required? You must, for the hope of your salvation, you must see that you are wrong.”

I could not have held as much love, nor burned with as much hate, as I did the moment that question came. There was a duality in him; I saw it line his features and burn in his eyes. They held triumph and sadness in such a coupling that it seemed he would give cry of victory and a wail of mourning in the same mighty breath. I had only nodded acceptance. It would be so. He had won. He had lost.

As I watched the light begin to fade from his eyes, I stood and turned from him. I would remember his fire and not its diminishing. I felt that all of Shar should grieve, for it had just lost a noble. A noble, not in status, but a man of honor that the men of those Great Houses frequently boasted of, but never held in their slippery grasp. He was a Shari soldier, he was a father, and he had set my feet on a path that both I dare not tread upon and dare not stray. So it was that my father passed into the Embrace, taking a piece of my soul for companionship.

And so it is, that I go to the place I most hate and least understand. Duty demands it. But, I will find the answers that none of my kin could give. I will know the truth behind the meddling. I will know the reasons why lives are so easily used up and tossed aside in the name of ‘Peace’. I will have these answers and I will serve.

Duty is the price demanded and honor the currency accepted. For the sake of him, for the sake of me, I dare not be found lacking.

Acts of War

2007-01-05T00:38:00.000-05:00

I had intended to write about something entirely different tonight until I came across this article. It appears a group of armed gunmen stormed a site manned by National Guardsmen in Arizona. “Those guardsman were forced to retreat”.

Although I won't attempt to “arm-chair quarterback” the engagement, there are some serious questions I would like answered. The first and most pressing, from where I am sitting, is what was our immediate response to this incursion? Have we sent more Guardsmen and/or Active Duty detachments, air support, etc. Have we changed the R.O.E. for all border sites along our southern line of demarcation? If you click on the link at the top of the article, it will show you video press coverage of the incident. I am wondering what role the Guardsmen were there to fulfill as it says they called in Border Patrol for assistance. I would like to know what profile these “illegals” fit into. Were they Mexican military? Now before you go calling me paranoid, let me (as my bro Dave likes to say) lay one on you.

First, why don't you take a trip over to The Minuteman Civil Defense Corps and take a gander at article and accompanying video here.

When you are done with that, you can go here and read the article that has me so confused with statements, like this one, from Rafael Laveaga (spokesman for the Mexican Embassy).

"I strongly deny any incursions by the Mexican military as inaccurate allegations," Mr. Laveaga said. "The Mexican military is a well-respected institution with strict rules on how to control Northern Mexico. It maintains a protocol of not going within a mile of the border, and those who would trespass would be severely punished."

Now try here. So get bent, I am not out of line in asking about a military presence.

Not only do we have illegals who can get through our borders with less trouble than I have getting through the ticket counter at Disney, we also have a uniformed foreign military running 'heavy' cover for drug operations.

This is beyond ludicrous. Sir George and company have our brother's and sister's on the other side of the world, dying for the freedom of foreigners and the sovereignty of their new nation – “for your safety and mine”. At the same time we have a foreign military on U.S. Soil, a foreign civilian population coming in droves (read Reconquista and look up The Plan Of Aztlan) and our Georgy is doing what about it?

What the hell are you talking about? George is protecting us. You are right, he isn't involved in the Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America. Oh wait, he helped spear-head it. Sovereignty. We don't need that, do we? Bush and company are holding America's skirt over her head and selling our ass, one piece at a time, to the highest bidders.

We better get off of our collective duff and elect some officials that are Americans in more than just title. Some might be perfectly fine with Mexamericanada and figuring the conversion rates for the Amero, but I sure as hell am not.

To our volunteer militia with boots on the ground protecting all of us - thank you. Stay safe out there and keep your powder dry.

Hi-Tech Eclectic Redneck

2007-01-03T20:32:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to post up a few 3 dimensional doodles that I have been messing around with.

Since Toy Story, I have loved the eye candy that CG art can provide. One day, I think the human actor will be replaced with one made of pixels. Then no more Baldwins, Penns, *insert nearly any ass-monkey actor you wish here* - that will be a wonderful day indeed. I know, I know, I am a dreamer.

These aren't very good, but later I will post new ones as I progress. And if you don't like it, don't look! If you want to see a bigger picture of ugly, I believe you can click on the picture for a larger version.

Helm. Just an attempt to model something that looks like it might be a gladiator style noggin bell.

Organic models are much more difficult, as is apparent by these substandard attempts. Yes, you are quite astute, he has no eyes. That is because I haven't figured out that part yet. No, I don't know who "he" is. Just some face stuck in my brain or maybe it belongs to one of those voices that just won't go away.

Anatomy study. This one hasn't progressed to the texturing and painting stage yet. As you can tell, there are all kind of offenses to the eye in this one. All I can do is continue to chip away at it. I must say it is fun and rewarding when something starts to take shape and become recognizable. You will note that I chose to use our law-makers, in Virginia, as reference subjects for this model's nether regions.

Well, there you have it. These are the ones I am least embarrassed to post on my blog. The rest are just atrocious.

Oh and one last thing. While I can think of no reason why anyone would want to take these images and use them for anything, I must point out that these images are copyrighted to me, Alan Deal.

Talk to ya soon.

Down but not out!

2007-01-03T10:51:00.000-05:00

{Hysterical Laughter} – ALIVE, IT's ALIVE.

Down but not out! It is good to be back. I just wanted to drop a quick post to let you know that I am not actually dead or incarcerated. Things have gotten a little haywire, but the dust is finally settling. Leaking roof, broken torsion springs, broken pipes, burnt up thermostat, a bout of the crud, and finally a computer that went udders vertical – the “man” has been trying (unsuccessfully) to keep me down. After making a new tin-foil hat, with a lead paint lining, everything has gotten better. :-)

It took some doing but I am back up and will be posting tonight. Talk to ya soon.

CO2

2006-12-31T01:59:00.000-05:00

A quick update on the cider batch. Tipping up a bottle of the home-brew revealed that the taste is much the same as previously noted. It is only lightly carbonated which is not what I had expected. With the amount of priming sugar that I added, I expected the cider to have more bubbly than it does. I am not sure if it is because I did not let the bottles sit at room temperature for a few days before I threw it in the vertical basement or there is some other contributing factor.

Don't get me wrong, it is completely drinkable. The results just don't match the predicted outcome. I am going to let it rest for another couple of weeks and see if it gets more carbonated as time goes on. You will be the second to know.

Yes, the absence of nicotine appears to be directly related to writer's block. So what? That's right... back away slowly... At this point I can and will bite.

Captain's log, Stardate...

2006-12-29T00:29:00.000-05:00

Got both feet in the stirrups now. But trying to hold this glass of Macallan and these reigns might prove difficult. Ah what the hell, every cowboy has fallen off of his horse at some time or another.

I thought I would catch you up on the goings on in the land of Neverwinter. We had a fine Christmas day. No snow of course, but the temperature did drop to a frigid 65 with moderate rainfall. That's right, you northerners aren't the only ones who have to deal with elements. Why, if it got any lower, I would have had to put on a jacket!

We spent most of Christmas eve and Christmas day with family. Try as I might, I have not been able to convince them all to meet in one place and celebrate together. One day I will figure it out. In the mean time, I will continue to visit two to three houses a holiday, and eat at each one like it was my first meal. What's that? Glutton, you say? Pfaw...that is just southern hospitality. You can't go to someone's house and not eat heartily of the spread they put out for you and your kin. You are liable to get a dirty flyswatter in the forehead should you try such a poor excuse as “I already et” to explain away why you can only eat just one helping of this or that. At least that is what I keep saying to the friends who point out the new five pounds of gut Santa left me for Christmas.

Along with the new weight, I also received more gifts than I deserve and more than some of my family can afford to give. Dad gave me an antler handled folder with wood inlays. She is a beauty and will be in my pocket on those occasions that call for me to pull off the Levis and throw on a pair of slacks. See you uppity women, men can coordinate their apparel at times. I also got a lined denim jacket that will more than suffice our (and I say it with a straight face) Florida winters. My mother-in-law surprised me with a liter of Macallan 12, which I am drinking right now, in her honor; yours too.

I was only partially joking about the weight. I stepped on a scale yesterday and I swear it cursed me out in Chinaman. I have hit the 240lb mark and while not the highest I have ever been, certainly above where I need to be. I am lucky enough to have 75 inches to spread it out over but it still puts me in the “fat bastard” category in my book. Being a firm believer that New Year's resolutions are for procrastinators, I have put down the nicotine and super sized portions as of yesterday, December 27th. After all, if I can't do it now, there is no magic number on the calendar that is going to guarantee success. Cutting back on meals isn't the hard part; it's the quitting smoking/dipping that is my Grendel.

To be more specific, it is maintaining the control necessary to not throttle the bag-boy at the grocery store who thinks it perfectly acceptable to bag a gallon of milk on top of a loaf of bread and then look at me like I am daft when I point out to him, testily, that it isn't. Driving anywhere has sent me into near apoplectic fits. I can't even turn on any of the cable news networks.

No one to blame but me for this state of affairs, but I am done with it. I will put this demon to rest; it's past due. But I don't think it is going to be pretty.

I need to go and find some tree bark to chew on.

Rant to you soon.

Getting back in the saddle

2006-12-27T21:01:00.001-05:00

The Christmas holidays are drawing to a close. I have some catching up to do on news in general as well as blog reading. So while I set to reading and climbing back into the saddle, might I suggest going over to Green Hell and treating yourself to some fine literature of the highest caliber.

As the last remnants of left-over turkey wear off, I will have a post or two for you to peruse. I hope you had a pleasant Christmas. Talk to ya soon.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-24T00:52:00.000-05:00

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.

And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

Luke 2: 1-20 (King James Version)

Merry Christmas to all! May you and yours be blessed with happiness, this holiday season.

Bah Humbug

2006-12-23T01:33:00.000-05:00

When will the lunacy end? Has this country become completely unhinged? I used to laugh when someone would say, “What if what you considered to be normal, was suddenly thought of as insane?”

The phrase “common sense” is dead – sense isn't common at all these days. I will readily admit that I am not the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but these people are simply non compos mentis!

4 -year-old Accused of Improperly Touching Teacher – So let me get this straight, a young boy wishes show his affection or, more likely, feel a semblance of security in an alien environment and attempts to hug an adult. The adult has either a serious case of narcissism or is carrying around a trunk full of psychosis and accuses the lad of making sexual advances? Really? A four year old trying to motor-boat your mamms and it is perfectly reasonable to charge him with sexual deviance? And the school administration has their head so far up their ass that they removed the “sexual contact” but left “inappropriate physical contact” on his record?

Maryland 5-Year-Old Accused Of Pinching Buttocks – this case a boy plays a little grab-ass and they say it fits the bill for sexual harassment. I guess I should count myself lucky that I wasn't caught behind the portable in first grade, showing Susy mine after she showed me hers.

First Grade Suspened for Harassment – and another

Moving on to a different topic. How about the Veterans Affairs Secretary, Jim Nicolson, having to drop his trousers so his voice wouldn't be muffled.

VA Head: Draft Beneficial to Society – the draft would be beneficial, but you don't support it?! Is there some 3 barbiturate minimum one must consume before this starts to make sense? Sober, this sounds like more of the “smoking, but not inhaling” spew.

Yes, yes, let us all go back to a happier time where slavery was a perfectly viable option for a country to impose upon its citizens. I am sure we can come up with a catchy phrase to replace “indentured servitude”. After all, according to Mr. Nicolson, the Draft would be the only way to bring up the muddled quality quotient that our “volunteer” military has so addled.

If we are not smart enough to know when the time is right to answer the “horns of war”, by swearing ourselves in voluntarily, just what kind of military are we going to get by Uncle Sam forcing us into it? I suppose it is some of that there “fuzzy logic” that this southerner just can't grasp.

Even more on this subject over at the Blue Collar Republican.

For dessert, it looks like we are off to a running start for “the most open and ethical Congress in history”. I feel better already. Don't you?

Now that I am good and Scrooged up, I am going to go sate my rancor with a cold one or three. Good Night.

Bah..Santa's Elves are loafers!

2006-12-22T00:24:00.000-05:00

Ah yes, Christmas is upon us. And it has set in around this southerner's house with a vengeance. Meal planning, gift purchases, gift projects, and family gathering scheduling; it all seems to happen at once. I am not complaining in the least, I have just been busy.

The Mrs. had requested that she get a fancy new vanity in our bathroom as her gift and after receiving delivery, I set to it. The project evolved, as I am sure you do-it-yourself types know it can, into quite an undertaking. New vanity is of the antique sideboard variety. The old vanity was the modular, veneered, particle board type. It might not have been what the lass liked, but it will make one hell of a mobile work table when I am finished with it.

Careful demolition only confirmed what I had thought of the contractor who built this house – a cross eyed, crack smoking half-wit, who waddled around equipped with a big hammer and a homemade tape-measure. The drywall was skewed, filled with screw holes (from some jack-ass searching for the “spot” - like a young lad with raging hormones getting his first taste of “lucky” in the backseat of his buddy's car), and dented for reasons I can't fathom.

After a few hours of curse-filled drywall repair, tile was the next order of business. That went fairly easily, if time consuming. The new vanity had to be modified so the plumbing would fit through the back. For some reason, I just get a gleam in my eye when a power tool is in my hands. I took a side trip or two, and ran my Sawz-All through a few things that had been “asking for it”.

Painting, plumbing, faucets and done! Now I just have to figure out how to gift-wrap it! So, count your blessings, boys. Some of you get to run out and buy your significant other something that fits nicely in a small box. Yeah. Yeah, I hear ya. If she can put up with me she is more than worth it. Well, you might be right. Talk to ya soon.

I CAIR, see my finger?

2006-12-18T00:07:00.000-05:00

It is time for the gloves to come off. After making my stop at the Blue Collar Republican and getting an eye full of what went on over at Host Gator, I got stewed. The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I became and the pressure cooker started shaking. So here we are, and here is my 'virtual finger' to those miscreants over at CAIR.

If you unsure as to what I am speaking of, please go to BCR and here and here to read about it, then come back.

“Vilmar” may have let the matter drop, but myself and others will pick up the standard and wave it for all to see . I will not sit idly by, while these bastards seek to trample and subvert the right to say whatever the hell I want.

I suppose that since they found this objectionable, “Vilmar's” blog should be deleted as is only right, no? CAIR would never, then, say something such as this about Abdul-Jalil (who was put on administrative leave after making Anti-American and Anti-Jewish statements while holding public office) :

Wassim Nasr, Council on Islamic Relations: "There are other things that are the truth in his statements. For example, harsh treatment of Muslim prisoners at the Metropolitan Detention Center and the jails in New York, so I think we can't mix the two together. And even if it was his opinion, this is America and we are allowed to express our opinions publicly." (article here)

I took both the words in “Vilmar's” post and his linking to be satirical. But for a moment, let us just say they were not. Let's say the guy was truly twisted and supported the murder of children. A horrible, horrific, and malignant opinion that would be, but to use CAIR's own words, “And even if it was his opinion, this is America and we are allowed to express our opinions publicly.” CAIR would never, in clear and concise terms, support the killing of innocent men, women, and children. They would not support Sheikh Abdalla Ali (Mogadishu, Somalia sheikh) when he said:

"He who does not perform prayer will be considered as infidel and our sharia law orders that person to be killed,"

My eyes must be deceiving me, you hypocritical ass holes, when I read an editorial response, by Ahmad Al-Akhras (Vice chairman of national Council on American-Islamic Relations,Columbus ), concerning the events in Somalia to include:

“What has happened in Somalia, for the majority of Somalis inside and those who are abroad, is a positive change. I truly suggest that we should not prejudge this change, or any change for that matter, based on the religious affiliation of those in power.”

Do you call slaughtering someone who does not bend neck to an oppressive regime a “positive change”? I call that tyranny. I judge it evil.

Let's keep this train moving, shall we? So what happens when CAIR is in a public place, exercising the same rights they so abhor in the hands of others, speaking their views on Israel and America? What happens when someone asks a few questions that they don't feel are proper and in-line with their agenda? Surely a member of their group would not assault the questioner? Dr. Al-Akhras of CAIR would not physically put his hands on them and attempt to take their camera and push them away? No, you say?

These are all actions of a group that is in strict adherence to their mission statement, “to enhance understanding of Islam, encourage dialogue, protect civil liberties, empower American Muslims, and build coalitions that promote justice and mutual understanding”

It is not like members of this organization (Randall ("Ismail") Royer [communications specialist and civil rights coordinator], Ghassan Elashi [founder of CAIR's Texas chapter], Bassem Khafagi [CAIR's onetime communications director], Rabih Haddad [CAIR fund raiser], Rabih Haddad [a CAIR advisory board member]) have been arrested, convicted, deported, or otherwise linked to terrorism-related charges and activities. Honest.

CAIR has a long and distinguished record. Take a trip here and here to see the hi-light reel.

My father always told me, “If it looks like shit, smells like shit, and tastes like shit, chances are...”

CAIR is no friend of mine, yours, or any other free thinking individual on this planet. I am not cowed, nor am I fooled. I know what they are, I know what they represent, and I will not be silent in letting everyone know it.

Try and pull the truth down from my little blog, you better pack a lunch. If this web host drops its pants for you, I will find another. Litigation you say? Disclosure is a bitch.

I can understand why those over at CAIR would wish to quell free speech:

"Without free speech no search for truth is possible, without free speech no discovery of truth is useful, without free speech progress is checked and the nations no longer march forward toward the nobler life which the future holds for man. Better a thousand-fold abuse of speech than a denial of free speech. The abuse dies in a day, but the denial slays the life of the people, and entombs the hope of the race."
Charles Bradlaugh

Now, on to Host Gator.

Yes, they have a right to their intellectual property. They have a right to allow or disallow any content they wish on their servers. But, we have a right to let them know what we think about it in both word and deed. That they would so easily fold to demands that pimp out free speech, from a group whose record speaks for itself, tells me I want nothing to do with them and I will give them free advertisement stating the same. Host Gator and its affiliates will get nothing from me but more free press; I will ask everyone I know to do the same. They are free to act in their business dealings however they wish; we are free to react.

Here is their contact information so you, reader, may do the same if you so desire. I implore you to not leave this up to someone else. It is our duty to protect our way of life. Money doesn't talk, it screams.

sales@hostgator.com
billing@hostgator.com
support@hostgator.com
reboots@hostgator.com

My letter to Host Gator:

To whom it may concern:
Your selective censorship of rightwinghowler.com, has left me both dismayed and indignant. Considering that you host other sites that contain equally offensive material to different cross-sections of our country, I see what you have done for what it is - blatant cow-towing to an anti-American pressure group (CAIR). I understand that it is within your rights to control the media that is displayed on your servers. But, I also have the right to disagree with your actions and in so doing, not enter into any dealings with you or your affiliates. I hope that when and if you find yourself in this situation again, your response will be different. Either that, or apply censorship equally, and shut down every site that is brought to your attention as offensive.

Sincerely,
Alan Deal

Writing and such...

2006-12-16T10:43:00.000-05:00

I have been writing quite a bit lately, just nothing worth posting on my little blog. I am trying my hand at fiction and it is both challenging and enjoyable. Should I ever write anything that doesn't smell like a port-a-potty at Woodstock, I will post it up. I will be returning to posting here in a day or two. There are a number of current events that I plan to rant and rave about and there are a few stories about me that I would like to share.

In the mean time, get your butt over to Blue Collar Republican and read about CAIR's attack on the First Amendment. When you are good and pissed off, find someone who isn't quite as informed as you and send them over to read about it as well.

My bro, Dave Bean, over at Green Hell, is still churning out meritorious prose, with a few more posts about his past and a very thoughtful reflection on the institution of marriage.

Talk to ya soon.

Ode to Patrick Henry

2006-12-12T01:01:00.000-05:00

O.K. so it's not an Ode, but praise none the less.

Patrick Henry is one of the many men in history that I enjoy researching. He was a principled man and he stood by his convictions regardless of what those around him thought of his beliefs. He was labeled a radical by his peers, a traitor by the crown.

Patrick Henry was not a man to allow silence to be mistaken for agreement on anything, that I have found, where he was involved. After being elected to the House of Burgesses in 1765 he wasted little time in proposing the Virginia Stamp Act Resolutions. His passion for freedom did not leave him devoid of cunning, for he waited until the most conservative (the classical meaning of 'conservative' is quite different than today's definition) members of the House were away before submitting his Resolutions to the floor. He showed his 'firebrand' passion when he stood before the gathered assembly and said, “Caesar had his Brutus; Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third—" (Interrupted by cries of "Treason! Treason!") "George the Third may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it." Historians conflict over the last sentence above actually being said, but considering that the men Henry mentioned in the previous sentences were each assassinated, his sentiment towards the crown is easily seen. This man must have had a wheel barrow to cart his testicles around. If you aren't convinced yet, let's continue.

I am sure many are familiar with the famous line, “Give me liberty or give me death!”. But have you read the entire speech? It is one of my favorite of all times. March 23, 1775 – The House of Burgesses. Consider the times these men found themselves in. Consider the environment. Consider that human nature was no different all those years ago, than it is today. Some wished to give into the crown's demands; some protested of how little harm the 'benevolent King' actually did from so far away; others voiced their unhappiness but were willing to do little else. I am not saying that these men were without character and virtue,quite the opposite. But what direction would this country have gone if Patrick Henry had been among this group instead of standing and saying this? Can you not feel the passion in his voice as you read it? I have read his speech many, many times and it still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. (If you want an audio interpretation, go here.) Accounts say that the gathered host of the House jumped to their feet and shouted, “To Arms! To Arms!” and I can see why.

On May 3, 1775 Patrick Henry showed that he was not a man made merely of words, but that he could and would act upon his beliefs. Lord Dunmore (Royal Governor of Colonial Virginia) became fearful of his citizens after they had made it clear that they were arming themselves. He thought it might be in his best interest to remove some of the gun powder from their reach and place it on a British ship out in the bay. His Royal Marines were discovered and the word of his theft spread like wildfire. Guess who was first to show up with a musket, leading a pissed off group of hayseeds – Patrick Henry. The Hanover Militia sat outside Williamsburg until negotiations yielded an agreement that Dunmore would release payment, from the royal treasury, for the powder he had taken. The militia left and Henry made his way back to his peers for the Continental Congress session. On May 6^th, Dunmore issued a document naming Patrick Henry a criminal. We know how the story of the Revolution ends, but my man Patrick did not hang up his wig and retire to his estate. He faced a new threat to liberty in the newly wrought articles of the Constitution of the United States.

Henry was an Anti-federalist and believed that this new Document took power from the states and ultimately the individual. He was instrumental in getting the Bill of Rights added to the Constitution to allow his countrymen to maintain the freedoms they had just bled and died for.

I continue to study this man and the Federalist/Anti-federalist movement as they changed names and members during this period in history. I am still a bit fuzzy on how and why he is reported to have become a staunch Federalist by the late 1700's and will have to do more digging until my research gives up the goods. An American patriot in every sense of the word, Patrick Henry was a man among men in my book. May God grant this country more men and women with his character and determination.

Talk to ya soon.

All bottled up.

2006-12-10T20:56:00.000-05:00

I just finished bottling the last of the cider. I ended up with a case of long-necks with an A.C. of around 8.4 %. After adding the priming sugar and transferring the cider to a nice clean bucket with a spigot, the bottling went off without a hitch. A new round of tasting revealed that the cider tasted a mite sweeter than the last sampling. I attribute that to the lack of sediment, fermentation slowing down, and the spent yeast. It tastes pretty damn good. It is still not as good as I would like it to be, but that just means I will have to continue to pursue perfection, one new batch at a time. I have the bottles back in my 'vertical basement' so the cider can go through its fermentation for carbonation nice and slow. I plan on popping the first top on Christmas day.

My plans for the next batch include fresh juice from a home built press and the addition of raisins to the must during primary fermentation. I bought several packets of the Cote des Blancs yeast so I will continue to use that until I run out.

Once I finish getting the plans for the cider press fleshed out and I start the construction stage, I will let you know how it is going and add some pictures showing my progress.

I am happy with my first venture into the home brew arena and I will continue to write about it. Talk to ya soon.

Lions and Tigers and Blue Collars. Oh my!

2006-12-08T21:35:00.000-05:00

It is the common fate of the indolent to see their rights become a prey to the active. The condition upon which God hath given liberty to man is eternal vigilance; which condition if he break, servitude is at once the consequence of his crime and the punishment of his guilt.—John Philpot Curran

I have added another blog to the sidebar. Its name is The Blue Collar Republican. The title itself appeals to me as I am a working stiff myself. To give credit where credit is due, my friend, Dave, over at My Green Hell happened upon this site and has been linking to it quite regularly. BCR has also, to their credit, added Dave to their list of writers to weigh in on matters of the 2nd amendment – a fine piece of legislation that is very near and dear to my own heart. BCR is a politically minded, conservative blog with multiple authors that aim to give a voice and hope to a large cross section of our country – the working man and woman.

This is from the BCR on what their primary focus is:

For decades now the Republican Party has had it’s mainstream message and there are plenty of forums out there for them to get that message out. This site will give voice to the issues and opinions of those who are normally classified as swing voters who since Ronald Reagan tend to vote Republican. Many vote Democratic or Independent in local elections but on the National level tend to vote Republican if there is no alternative. Figures such as Ross Perot and Pat Buchanan offered alternatives as Independents that attracted many of these voters. Yet, many gave up on voting in years past because none of the above really interested them.
This site hopes to give the section of America commonly called the Blue Collar class a voice. It will include a blog that activists for particular areas of interest to that segment of our population. Why? Because the mainstream tends to push their concerns and views to the side in deference to their own agenda.

Your ideas for the growth and scope of the site are always welcome. The main idea is to give you, the working class, a voice.

After viewing many of their posts and discussions, I find myself more to the right than they on a few issues only, and for those they have an open and polite forum for discussion. I encourage you to go and give them a look and don't hesitate to join in on a topic you find interesting. Educate yourself and let your voice be heard.

Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
At which the universal host up sent
A shout that tore hell’s concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
John Milton

Of times past

2006-12-07T09:54:00.000-05:00

I came across this site last night and I wanted to get it up here so others can enjoy it as I have. It is called the Avalon Project at Yale Law School. This site is loaded with historical documents; The Articles of Confederation, The Federalist Papers, Confederate States of America: Papers, The Jefferson Papers, and Madison’s notes on the debates of the Federal Convention of 1787 to name a few. The overlap from this site's documents with the previous site I have added to the sidebar will give the reader a decent account of history through the eyes of those who have lived it. I will be spending some serious reading time at these two sites and will write on some of the things I find particularly interesting. Talk to ya soon.

Something a little lighter...

2006-12-06T17:42:00.000-05:00

I stumbled across this site and had a laugh (it's that or cry). Here are some of the laws from Florida that are apparently still on the books:

823.01 Nuisances; penalty.
All nuisances that tend to annoy the community, injure the health of the citizens in general, or corrupt the public morals are misdemeanors of the second degree, punishable as provided in s. 775.083, except that a violation of s. 823.10 is a felony of the third degree.

If an elephant is left tied to a parking meter, the parking fee has to be paid just as it would for a vehicle.

It is illegal to sing in a public place while attired in a swimsuit.

Men may not be seen publicly in any kind of strapless gown.

Having sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal.

They just took away all of my night-on-the-town ideas.

I am going to add The Darwin Awards site to the sidebar. If you are having one of those days, this site can put a smile on your face and make you feel extremely intelligent.

We salute the improvement of the human genome
by honoring those who accidentally remove themselves from it...
ensuring that the next generation is one idiot smarter.
Of necessity, this award is generally bestowed posthumously.

Hey fat boy! Step away from the french fry.

2006-12-06T17:06:00.000-05:00

NYC Health Board Votes to Ban Trans Fats

The Board of Health voted Tuesday to make New York the nation's first city to ban artery-clogging artificial trans fats at restaurants - from the corner pizzeria to high-end bakeries.

We can all breath easier, my friends. Our handlers are continuing to save us from ourselves by banning these horrible maladies upon society. Don't worry though, the rest of our freedoms are still intact. They would never try to control what we drink, breath, read, watch, say, or hear. I would be suffering from paranoia if I thought that. Right?

Tell all the frogs you know that it's O.K. – they can go back to watching T.V.. The water is only at a simmer.

Living it Up

2006-12-04T12:17:00.000-05:00

No, I have not been arrested; I have been fishing.

The last few days have been rather hectic and I have not made the time to post on my fledgling blog. I have been toiling to mark stuff off of the honey-do list and pursuing various projects of my own. I also spent the entire day, yesterday, out in the Gulf of Mexico drinking a few beers and cranking on a reel.

Yesterday was a beautiful day for fishing and I enjoyed decompressing. The Gulf was so calm, you would have thought yourself on a lake. The temperature stayed in the 70's with moderate cloud cover and the fish were hungry. We pulled in Grouper, Sea Bass, Grunts, and the occasional Red Snapper. I didn't wrench in a Grouper large enough to keep but I made up for it one 'pan fish' at a time and ended up bringing home a healthy bounty of White Grunts, Sea Bass, and even a Trigger Fish. A couple of friends, from work, came along and they kindly donated their 'keepers' to my stringer. Although I did not catch the biggest fish of the day (Largest was a 17 lb Grouper), I came home with enough moderately sized fish to fill a couple of large frying pans. I call that a successful day.

A side story that adds to my day of fun. I gave in to my more devious side and thought it would be fun to play some mind twisting games with the strangers on board the charter. How does one do this? It is one of the simpler and many would say immature jokes to play on the unsuspecting and unsure. What's that? Ah shut up ye curmudgeon. What else was I supposed to do for the 2 hour trip back to shore? Where was I? Ah yes. All you need is a finger to point at nothing that is off in the distance and appear very interested in it. “It” doesn't need to exist. In fact, “its” lack of existence is the joke itself. So you point and appear very interested in “it”. If you can pull a camera up and charade your way through taking shots of “it”, all the better. Folks may saddle up to you and try to see “it”. Word might pass up and down the boat that something very interesting is out there. Soon you may have lots of folks looking at “it”. You may even hear, “There it is! I see it!” Folks may nod sagely and tell there friends that they were able to see “it” ,due to their superior skills of observation, minutes before others. You will need to be steadfast in your seriousness as you study “it” and nod occasionally as if in answer to some inner dialog. Don't be put off if someone asks you, “What is it? What do you see?” If you just look at them and say, “What? You don't see it? It's right there.” Point at “it” again and look at them questioningly. You might find that now they too can see “it”. “Oh...Now I see it! Wow!”

If God doesn't have a sense of humor I am in a heap of trouble.

I am still trying to come to terms with the fact that just because I think something would be funny, doesn't mean others will. After fishing, I got home stripped down to my boxers, rolled around in the yard to get good and dirty, and throwing the stringer of fish over my shoulder I stomped into the house and shouted, “ Woman! Your hunter home. I bring great bounty of food for fires of our tent. Woman will please me now, then clean fish...”

Looking back, I still think it should have received a laugh but I suppose she doesn't see things the way I do. Now I need to come up with a story to explain to the fellas how I got this lump over my eye.

Talk to ya soon.

Cider Chronicles Episode III

2006-11-30T23:54:00.000-05:00

As time for bottling my golden elixir draws nigh, I thought I would write about just how exactly I got to where I am in the brewing process. I do this for two reasons and neither one of them is any of your business. ;-)

We start with the juice. I started with 2 gallons of store bought apple cider from my local grocer. Pasteurization need not rule out a particular brand of apple juice, but should the juice contain any preservatives it is not fit for hard cider. Pasteurization has a negative effect on taste and nutritional content, but it has no destructive effect on the fermentation process. Preservatives in store bought juice will cause your cider to rot before it ferments. This being my first rodeo, I thought I would start with a base commercial juice (pasteurized) and add my own fresh juice for flavor. I added 6 lbs each of Rome and Granny Smith apples to my cart and headed for the lab.

Using my Juice Man Jr. I liquefied 12 lbs of apples into roughly one gallon of juice. I know this isn't the best method of juicing but I don't have a press and decided to use the tools readily at hand. After it was all said and done I learned three things from this juicing process. The first was the Rome apple seems to contain far more fiber than the Granny Smith and yields about 25 % less juice. The second is my Juice Man was not designed to juice that much fruit in one sitting. The motor got a little hot (warped plastic) and the juicing screen needed to be cleaned with great frequency (especially with the Rome apples). Though this method had the desired end, I will pursue other means to get my juice in the future.

I dumped my 3 gallons of juice into my cleaned and sanitized primary fermenter (a 6 gallon bucket with a locking, air-tight lid and a hole for an air-lock). Research shows a consensus, in belief, that wild yeast in fruit produces unpredictable taste results in cider. It is better to curb wild yeast growth from the start. I used campden tablets to achieve this end. Campden (sodium metabisulfite) releases sulfer dioxide when it is dissolved in liquid. Sulfer Dioxide will kill bacteria and inhibit wild yeast development that is naturally present in fruit. The tablets I picked up from an on-line supplier impart 75 p.p.m. of sulfer dioxide when dissolved in 1 gallon of liquid. This is a very low concentration of an antimicrobial preservative. I crushed a couple of the campden tablets and tossed them in with ¾ tsp of yeast nutrient. I let that sit, covered, for 24 hours at room temperature (78 degrees) to allow the sulfer dioxide to do its business on the wild yeast.

Before adding sugar on day 2, I took a couple of readings with my hydrometer so I could get an idea of the alcohol content possibilities before and after adding sugar. With my must in its natural condition, my readings and calculations put it at around 5.2 % on the possibility scale. 5% alcohol doesn't have a great shelf life so in the pure interest of making my cider last longer and southern frugality I sought to raise it. See, if I raise the alcohol concentration to 10% I get the bang of two drinks for the price of one. And you thought all us rednecks were sum kina ignorant. 3 cups of sugar brought my must up to a starting gravity that would give my cider a 9.7% A.C. possibility. I know there are other types of sweeteners that can be used to raise A.C. but I wanted to keep it simple and, “ Go easy, because this is my first time”.

With the starting gravity in an acceptable range it was time for yeast. There are so many types of yeast out there that it was hard to choose. I ended up going with a yeast called Cote des Blancs made by Red Star. I chose this yeast because it was described as a “good yeast in the champagne family for a semi-sweet cider”. I opened the packet and sprinkled its entire contents over the top of the must. I let the yeast hydrate for 5 minutes, on top of the must, before stirring it in. The final step was to snap on the top, fill the air-lock with a bit of water and throw the bucket in my upright basement. You know the rest of the story.

What's that? I should have wrote about this first and then followed with the other posts in consecutive order! Ain't you never seen them Star Wars picture shows? Some people got no appreciation for creativity. ;-)

I had talked earlier about my previous juicing method being unacceptable; my remedy is to get my own fruit press. After taking a look at the prices for some of these relatively simple contraptions, I will be building my own. So if you see smoke coming from this direction, call the fire department.

Talk to ya soon.

Rot in hell

2006-11-28T23:52:00.000-05:00

Came across this article today: A mother was arrested on suspicion of murdering her newborn daughter by putting the baby in a microwave oven. If she is the culprit, I hope she burns. The article also mentions another story -

In 2000, a Virginia woman was sentenced to five years in prison for killing her month-old son in a microwave oven. Elizabeth Renee Otte claimed she had no memory of cramming her son in the microwave and turning on the appliance in 1999. Experts said that Otte suffered from epilepsy and that her seizures were followed by blackouts.

This got my blood roiling and made me think about Andrea Yates, John Couey, Carla Lockwood, and the list goes on.

There is no hell hot enough, nor a punishment fitting to make an individual pay appropriately for these types of atrocities. Americans have allowed the justice system to become a pathetic, twisted, apologist, bed-wetting, mockery of a shadow that it once was. When one gives evidence of the complete disregard for the most basic, the very foundation of all rights – the right to life; they have proven themselves a cancer. They have established themselves an animal and have relegated the right to their own life by refusing to acknowledge that others hold the same claim. There is one single and just solution. Death. Sickness is not an excuse. You don't study them, you don't sentence them to 15 years in prison, you stop their oxygen and carbon dioxide exchange. Murder of any human is heinous, but the murder of innocent children really drives me over the edge. These cowards should be tied to a chair and wired for sound.

How in the hell can anyone harm a child?

Ramblings

2006-11-28T20:35:00.000-05:00

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows...

Just listening to a little Leonard Cohen and thought I would share. This is what slightly off-kilter folks listen to. Now you know.

I picked up a couple of books today in an effort to improve my writing. I am now the proud owner of Strunk and White's, “The Elements of Style”. This book is compact but a quick scan shows it to be full of excellent writing rules and tips. It is going right next to my dictionary once I finish reading it. Then maybe I won't think I need to check my fly when someone tells me I have a dangling participle.

The second book is “The 3 a.m. Epiphany”, by Brian Kiteley. This text contains around 200 writing exercises and the title boasts “Uncommon writing exercises that transform your fiction.” I don't have any works of fiction to transform, but I thought the book looked interesting and who knows maybe I will have a short piece of fiction that is not too embarrassing to post.

I already know that I like, “The Elements of Style”; will keep you updated on the Epiphany, especially if I have one. A multi-epiphany would be great. Now where did your mind just go?

Talk to ya soon.

A redneck and his crayon

2006-11-27T17:11:00.000-05:00

I like to doodle a bit. Just thought I would throw up a couple of scanned doodles I enjoyed doing. I found an excellent book on the subject that can show even a redneck how to at least make something recognizable. How to Draw Lifelike Portraits from Photographs, by Lee Hamond. I wouldn't say they are anywhere near lifelike, but at least they don't look Klingon. :-)

The hardest part about this second one was convincing the wife it was all in the name of art. No, it isn't my wife you pervert. The photo came from an old issue of Playboy. Do you have any idea the resolve it took to go through all of those magazine photos until I found just the right one? Dedication, my friend. Dedication. ;-)

A long way to go before I can call it art, but it's enjoyable. See, I told you this would be a hodge-podge site.

Helvering V. Davis and no SSA for You!

2006-11-26T23:11:00.000-05:00

After reading the kind comments from my friend Dave Bean, over at My Green Hell, I set out to find a little about Helvering v. Davis. Because when he said not to forget about it, I figured it might be a good idea to see what it was I shouldn't forget. I don't mind admitting I am ignorant on a subject the first time I hear about it, but it is down-right embarrassing if it comes up again and I still am dumbfounded. So I set out the pound my naivety into submission and learn something about this case. I also thought that I would drop a few links here for others who might want to learn a little more about Social Security and its history.

I have to warn you though, it gets as ugly as homemade soap.

First article I found was this one, over at LewRockwell.com (added to side bar) . This article gives an interesting perspective of events surrounding the trial and the author reflects their impact on the outcome. Good read.

Go here to see the certiorari, for Helvering v. Davis, which contains the “Opinion of the Court”.

The problem is plainly national in area and dimensions. Moreover, laws of the separate states cannot deal with it effectively. Congress, at least, had a basis for that belief. States and local governments are often lacking in the resources that are necessary to finance an adequate program of security for the aged. This is brought out with a wealth of illustration in recent studies of the problem. [n9] Apart from the failure of resources, states and local governments are at times reluctant to increase so heavily the burden of taxation to be borne by their residents for fear of placing themselves in a position of economic disadvantage as compared with neighbors or competitors. We have seen this in our study of the problem of unemployment compensation. Steward Machine Co. v. Davis, supra. A system of old age pensions has special dangers of its own if put in force in one state and rejected in another. The existence of such a system is a bait to the needy and dependent elsewhere, encouraging them to migrate and seek a haven of repose. Only a power that is national can serve the interests of all.

I can't help but wonder if the written decision, being rife with stupidity, was not some covert signal that some executive arm twisting was going on(such as that mentioned in the Lew Rockwell article). I mean come on, the final sayers on the intent of the laws of the Constitution wrote THAT decision which is completely at odds with other rulings this same court had handed out prior to this one; all it was missing was – ' The opinion of this court can best be summed by those hallowed words – "From each according to his ability. To each according to his need."

I also found Flemming V. Nestor, another court case that reaffirms that the citizen has no right to Social Security. Here it is quoted in brief:

2. A person covered by the Social Security Act has not such a right in old-age benefit payments as would make every defeasance of "accrued" interests violative of the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Pp. 608-611.

(a) The noncontractual interest of an employee covered by the Act cannot be soundly analogized to that of the holder of an annuity, whose right to benefits are based on his contractual premium payments. Pp. 608-610.

(b) To engraft upon the Social Security System a concept of "accrued property rights" would deprive it of the flexibility and [363 U.S. 603, 604] boldness in adjustment to ever-changing conditions which it demands and which Congress probably had in mind when it expressly reserved the right to alter, amend or repeal any provision of the Act. Pp. 610-611.

The 1960's ruling is not a shift in this set of justice's outlook. Prior case rulings from these Stalinists show where they stand.

It is bad enough that fork tongued collectivist dogma sold the idea, then they turn around and throw despotism in the stew for spice - “It's Great Uncle's now, you have no right to it. Whatever it is deemed you require, your benevolent dictators may bestow upon you at that time.”

If you aren't pissed off, you aren't paying attention. Don't know who said that, but it's the truth.

Thanks again Dave for pointing out that case. One more grain of knowledge in my tiny packet of sand. ;-)

Socialist Security

2006-11-25T11:45:00.000-05:00

I go out to the old mailbox today and find a letter of correspondence from our benevolent Social Security Administration. It is my annual report, letting me know that I and my employers have paid in enough money for me to be eligible to receive “benefits”. It looks like I am currently being taxed around 6.2 % of my salary for the benefit of getting some of it back at the retirement age of 67. They were kind enough to list what I should get at different ages of retirement, along with what my family may receive if I were to die today. Now as you can imagine, I am getting all warm inside from knowing that my handlers are saving money for me; putting it up today for my financial tomorrow as I am incapable of doing this myself. I continued to read and imagine my shock when I came across this line:

“*Your estimate benefits are based on current law. Congress has made changes to the law in the past and can do so at any time. The law governing benefit amounts may change because, by 2040, the payroll taxes collected will be enough to pay only about 74 percent of scheduled benefits.*”

Allow me to translate the above into redneck for you:

“Those numbers you just read above, don't mean squat. Whenever we feel the need to cut off your retirement pudd, we can and will do so. We have already bankrupted the system by not only robbing Peter to pay Paul but we put Peter in a miniskirt and pumps and have turned him out for 2$ a pop. The number we gave you of 2040 is a B.S. number too, it is really closer to 2018. But we figure since you believe all the other numbers we put on this page you will go for that one. If you are depending on us, boy are you screwed”

So, where is 'ist' after the word social – Socialist Security?

Remember that big dictionary on my desk? It defines socialism as (1.) A political and economic theory and movement for the reform of society by the substitution of the collective for the individual ownership of capital and property.

Let's compare that definition with what some of our Nation's leaders had to say about Social Security. Now I am not the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but it looks like there might be a parallel or two here:

"This law represents a cornerstone in a structure which is being built but is by no means completed--a structure intended to lessen the force of possible future depressions, to act as a protection to future administrations of the Government against the necessity of going deeply into debt to furnish relief to the needy--a law to flatten out the peaks and valleys of deflation and of inflation--in other words, a law that will take care of human needs and at the same time provide for the United States an economic structure of vastly greater soundness." -F.D.R. August 14, 1935

"It has long been recognized as an inescapable obligation of a democratic society to provide for every individual some measure of basic protection from hardship and want caused by factors beyond his control. In our own country, the obligation of the Federal Government in this respect has been recognized by the establishment of our Social Security system. . . . The passage of the Social Security Act in 1935 marked a great advance in our concept of the means by which our citizens, through their Government, can provide against common economic risks. . ." Harry S. Truman -May 24, 1948

And here we have L.B.J. proudly announcing Medicare:

"Thirty years ago, the American people made a basic decision that the later years of life should not be years of despondency and drift. The result was enactment of our Social Security program. . . . Since World War II, there has been increasing awareness of the fact that the full value of Social Security would not be realized unless provision were made to deal with the problem of costs of illnesses among our older citizens. . . . Compassion and reason dictate that this logical extension of our proven Social Security system will supply the prudent, feasible, and dignified way to free the aged from the fear of financial hardship in the event of illness." Lyndon Baines Johnson -January 7, 1965

"The fortieth anniversary of the Social Security Act celebrates an important milestone in responsible public service. I continue to be impressed by the steady responsiveness of the Social Security program to the changing needs of our people. . . . I warmly commend the employees of the Social Security Administration whose efforts are such a positive influence on the lives of countless fellow citizens." -Gerald Ford August 9, 1975

"The Social Security program is a pact between workers and their employers that they will contribute to a common fund to ensure that those who are no longer part of the work force will have a basic income on which to live. It represents our commitment as a society to the belief that workers should not live in dread that a disability, death, or old age could leave them or their families destitute." - Jimmy Carter December 20, 1977

Interesting, no? You can read more of these quotes directly from this page at the SSA site.

So what do we do? President Bush and his ideal of partially private investment of social security doesn't even sound good on paper. You see, we are currently paying for those retired now and if some of our funds are diverted to private accounts then the missing money has to come from some where. The government (currently) is paying the retirees old-age benefits (they already paid into the system) and the only way Uncle could continue do that, with Bush's proposition, is to borrow (bad mojo), print more money (bad mojo), or raise taxes (hell no). More government control in the business sector is also something I want to avoid like the plague. Social Security needs to be abolished. Check out this article over at the Mises Institute for a proposal that has merit. (Mises added to sidebar)

Like all of those of the greedy persuasion, I just want my money so I can do with it as I see fit. I don't need paternalism, I need to be left alone. I can handle it because (wait, let me check...yep) I have just confirmed that I am a grown man.

I neglected to talk about those that receive these benefits that have never paid into the pot, illegal aliens, et all. I didn't talk about those things because they are corollaries to the root of the issue -Social Security is fundamentally flawed. Freedom and collectivism cannot coexist.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-24T00:40:00.000-05:00

“For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

The night is late. The turkey and all its accompaniments are eaten or stored away. I finally have a quiet moment to contemplate on what this day means to me and just what am I grateful for.

I am thankful for health, so that I can provide for my extraordinary family. I am thankful for the love of a marvelous woman who has given me more joy than I know how to express. I am thankful to live in the land of my fathers. I am thankful that men brave in both word and deed took up pen and sword to endeavor mightily for the cause of Liberty. I am thankful that there are men and women who live today that still believe in Liberty's beauty and raise their voices so others might hear and see that the struggle is not over, nor will it ever be. I am thankful that it isn't to late to grasp the tiller and correct our course. I am thankful for the friendships I have made throughout my life; they have brought me solace in the hard times, someone to laugh with in the good, taught me invaluable lessons and made me a better man by telling me the things I didn't want to hear, but needed to. God has greatly blessed me and I thank Him.

Surfin the night away

2006-11-23T01:14:00.000-05:00

Doing some reading tonight:

First, I have to send you back over to My Green Hell. If you haven't book marked him yet, what the hell'sa matter with you? Not only can he rip up political wind bags (both foreign and domestic) but the man can cook too. I will make sure he is on my cell-block in the gulag. ;-)

I stumbled across this site while doing a bit of research. It falls into the history category and you will find and I quote the site's main page “A Hypertext on American History from the colonial period until Modern Times” This one is going in the sidebar.

A blog that looks to have promise. The Liberty Papers – The main page quote at the top caught my attention (they seem to rotate) - “A democracy is two wolves and a small lamb voting on what to have for dinner. Freedom under a constitutional republic is a well armed lamb contesting the vote.” Benjamin Franklin. For some reason that just appeals to my redneck sensibilities.

I am off to try and figure out how to add a picture or two here. I can then prove that my friends don't have the patent on ugly.

Talk to ya soon.

Entitlement...What's yours in mine

2006-11-21T23:39:00.000-05:00

There is a plethora of wonderful things about this country that I am truly thankful for and I would live in no other country on earth. But, there are plenty of idiots out there that don't have a clue, don't care to know, and are doing their damn best to suck the life out of you, me and everyone who thinks that you deserve what you can earn – by the sweat of your brow and the applied intellect of your mind.

This Little & Ives, Universal Unabridged Dictionary that sits on my desk defines 'entitle' as (2.) To give, carry, imply, a right or claim to.

This anti-noetic concept of self entitlement , coupled with a complete lack of accountability is absolutely ripping this country apart. The contract of success does not come with an enslavement clause, indenturing those who “can and do” to those who neither have the ambition nor drive to pick themselves up, seize an opportunity and hang on with steadfast tenacity until they too grasp the proverbial brass ring of prosperity.

Instead, like a 3 year old child, they lie in the middle of the street and scream obscenities at the misfortune that society has wrought upon them. They are unhappy in their job; they are not earning the wage they deserve; they don't have health care, a nice car, a better place to live; can't send their children to college and the list continues without end. They bewail success because in their twisted perception - who has any more right to have 'it' than any another.

Well, allow me to disabuse those of you who adhere to this outlook:

You are not entitled to a particular job or any salary you think you merit. In American society you are free to negotiate for your wages and benefits. If both parties can not come to an amicable agreement, you are free to go and attempt to negotiate with another prospective employer. You are not free to chain yourself to their desk until they hire you or call 20 or 30 of your friends to show up and lay siege to the workplace until someone relents to your demands.

You are not entitled a paycheck from the U.S. government because you are able to exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide and produce children at also, my expense.

You are not entitled to dictate the moral confines that society will adhere to.

You are entitled to say nearly anything you wish; you are not entitled to an audience.

You are not entitled to live free from offense.

The American ideal was never intended to turn the “land of opportunity” into the land of “subsidized existence”. True freedom is a hazardous prospect. An ideal where you are free to do as you choose, to make your own way as you see fit as long as it interferes with no other's pursuit of their version of happiness. If that course leaves you rich, hungry or anything in between - you reap the consequences of your actions. That is freedom!

If these pursuits leave you quivering, wet and appalled, if you would rather lie on your back and curse the Fates than drop shoulder and labor along with us, so be it – just lie there and expire quietly so those who would brave liberty's arena can step over you and drive on.

Whatever you do, keep your hands out of my pockets and your mouth off of my tit. And screw you Spock; the needs of the many do NOT outweigh the needs of the few. Charlatans on the "hill", I don't care if they did elect you, these aren't your rights to give and take away. Don't piss down my back and tell me its raining!

"A free people ought...to be armed...."

2006-11-20T01:41:00.000-05:00

So last night, I throw something out to the little lady. With a grin and a joking tone I said, “You know honey, there is a gun show tomorrow. I was thinking you could just drop me off in the morning on your way to church and pick me up on your way home.” Expecting her to laugh and send me back to my room without supper, I was floored when she said, “Sure, babe.” and the world stood still for a moment.

I decided to test the waters one time to be sure of what I had heard, “So what time do you want me ready and A.I.S?” Now, now is when the jeering mockery comes and she tells me to get a grip or something of the like.

“Can you be ready to go by 9 A.M.?”

What the...

You have heard of psychological warfare, I'm sure. At that moment I wouldn't have been surprised to hear the voice of Hanoi Hanna burst from my living room speakers saying, “How are you G.I. Joe? Go to the gun show and enjoy it. Nothing bad can come of this.”

No list of demands, no honey-do addendums and no call to the round table for discussion. This was looking serious indeed. I spent the rest of the night waiting for the “approach”. You know what I am talking about. The nonchalant gait, the sigh as she sits herself down in my proximity and says something like, “So...Since you are going to this show, do you think you can...” *insert any task(s) short of knitting a sweater for my mother-in-law* It never came...

I got up this morning with a sparkle in the eye and a spring in my step. I got dressed and was promptly dropped off on the front stoop of the civic center and I was on my way. My reasons for visiting the show, other than sheer enjoyment, was to make a trade. I had a darling piece of work called a Kimber Custom Classic .45 ACP. This is a great weapon and one I would recommend to anyone looking for a 1911 in all its glory. The only problem I had with her was she was too big to conceal properly. Wardrobe would have to be significantly changed to hide that full length vixen and I don't fancy adding a tie-around-the-waist sweater to every ensemble I might choose (or any for that matter). Solution - I had to let her go. So with a couple hours to scan the field, I checked my weapon (they require that a tie wrap be placed from inside the trigger guard to the rear of the slide), paid my entry fee and entered Santa's wonderland.

To borrow a line from Mr. Thoreau - “ Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune.” There were tables upon tables of pistols, rifles, shotguns, knives, books, and every other field related accessory one might desire. A place a person like myself could spend an entire day exploring (and annoying a lot of salesman with incessant questions).

I put my hands on a lot of pistols trying to find one that felt just right. You see, I have hands like a lumberjack and many of the ultra-compact models didn't have enough grip real estate to wrap all of my fingers around. Now I enjoy a challenge, but facing down a deranged booger-eater with 1.5 fingers flapping in the wind is not one I am up for. After two entire circuits of perusing, my eye settled on a Para-Ordnance P12 .45. It was used but I had no problem with that. What I did have a problem with was the tie wrap that prevented me from racking the slide to check the internals. I never liked blind dates growing up and I was not about to purchase/swap for a weapon I couldn't put my beady little eyeball all up, down and sideways. It took a mischievous wink and an “I'll show you mine if you show me yours” to get the gentleman to make a quick snip. The Para looked in decent shape. She needed a good stripping and cleaning but this dame was coming home with me if I could swing it.

I come from a long line of tight-wads. It has been said of my Father that he could hear a dollar drop in a snow storm and I see that as a compliment. So you see, it's in my blood. I put on my dealer's smirk and the bartering began. I wanted a dead swap. I had no desire to pay any money out of pocket and that was the only way she was coming home with me. In the south, bartering is not only a past-time, some folks will get down right offended it you don't. He called me cheap, asked if my wife didn't give me enough allowance to throw some money into the trade, said I was robbing him, said I was putting him in an awkward position, I think he even might have talked about my Momma. I countered in kind – no money, seven kids to feed, had a bad heart, worried about illegals, and that I really did know who my Father was. It ended with him snorting in mock disgust and relenting. I am sure he was smiling as he put his Kimber under the counter and I turned to find the cashier. Background check completed, I had my new toy and about 45 minutes to kill while waiting for my wife to return. I used that time to pick up some ball ammo and a pancake holster for my new addition to the family. The Mrs. picked me up where she dropped me off and we went back home.

I took my new toy out to the field and put 50 rounds through her as I asked multiple water filled milk jugs, “Are you Sara Conner?”. I had a few problems feeding rounds because of a filthy ramp and it looks like I am going to have to get a new recoil spring, but I have to say that I am a happy camper.

I think there will be no demand for recompense from my wife. But, I know this will be filed away in her memory banks as ammunition for a future disagreement. How is it that women can't remember to change the oil but remember “the time you...” ;->

A great day all around.

Dave Bean takes flamethrower to Parliment. News at 11.

2006-11-18T21:16:00.000-05:00

Had a few minutes to get some reading done and just wanted to send you on over to My Green Hell, as Mr. Bean is on fire! The intelligence, common sense and razored wit train makes a pleasingly squishy sound when it rolls right over despotism attempting to make a stand on the track.

All aboard the Bean Express! Read his most recent post (Socially Responsible Tyranny) and then read it again if you need to. Dead on accurate and if you don't see parallels where we live, have someone slap you because you are comatose.

Yes, Babe.

2006-11-18T02:02:00.000-05:00

Well, if anyone has read the comments under my last post, the cat is out of the bag. The first poster (ucicu2), who I know quite well, mentioned notifying my 'Boss Lady' if I didn't take it easy on the sauce. That is correct folks, I have a very significant other. I am married to a wonderful woman who has enough patience and understanding to put up with this here pain in the arse. Those two qualities alone make her a catch, but she is hot as hell to boot! On top of all of that good fortune, she has seen fit to give me two rooms in the house. I have the garage and the little room I am typing from. (No, it's not a closet so shut up). She does make me keep the door closed so her friends won't see the stacks of books, strewn wires, tools, disassembled electronic gear and empties. To a person of a hyper-curious nature, these are rooms of invaluable treasure and endless entertainment (well to me they are anyway). The hot glue gun alone has kept me amused for a couple of hours by itself. No, I wasn't sniffing it – she makes me close the door. Remember?

Marriage has taught me many lessons along the way and a few hard fast rules that were quickly learned when periods of forced abstinence were used as a battle tactic. Calloused hands just ain't the same, Jr.. And life isn't always fair, suck it up and drive on; you have to set your priorities. I got mine straight and I plan on using it as often as possible...

The phrase, “Yes, babe” at times becomes the only acceptable answer. I have one perfect example to put this is perspective. I have recently put a bit of tile down on the back porch area for the Mrs.. After grouting said tile, it was time to scrub off the grout haze and clean the tile so it could be sealed. So I say to myself, “The hell with getting back down there on my knees and scrubbing all that tile. I will just sweep it and go rent me one of those floor buffer/scrubbers from the Depot.” After checking prices and weighing the cost vs. reward ratio, I hop in the car and shoot on over to pick it up. My wife, being the hard working type, informed me she planned to use the buffer, when I was finished, to scrub the tile in the kitchen. I had to pay for a minimum of four hours anyway, so it sounded like we had a plan. I told her she should be able to knock out the kitchen in less than an hour cause it's much easier with the buffer and a scrubbing pad to get at the embedded dirt.

I returned home and promptly got to work. I knocked out my scrubbing in the back and wrapped the cord back around the handle. I pulled the beast back in the house and yelled to the wife that her buffer was in the kitchen. I used the buffer for about 2 hours and so while my little lady worked on the kitchen, I figured I would have time to head back outside and give the tile a lite pressure washing before sealing it.

Alarms should have sounded and lights should have flashed when she came out and said she couldn't get the buffer to start. Being in the middle of another job, I quickly explained that she had to press the safety release button on the side while holding either the right or left handle switch closed and I went back to work. She nodded that she understood and be bopped back into the house. Within five minutes she was back outside, hands on her hips and a dire look in her eye. Uh oh. I figured I better shut the pressure washer down and give her my full attention. Upon doing so, this my ringing ears did hear, “You told me that thing was easy to use. You said all I had to do was press the safety button and squeeze the handle and it would work!” AMBUSH!

Internal dialog: “O.K. this is your back yard. Your closest exit is immediately to your right and 3 paces away. She isn't carrying any sharp objects this time, so if you feint to your left and then shoot right for the exit you just might make it.” But then I remembered I had to come back home at some point so I would remain, warily, where I stood. “Stand your ground men. Rig for heavy seas and the smoking lamp is very obviously lit!” I answered with a practiced neutral look and a noncommittal “Uh, huh.” The conversation continued thusly:

“Well it wasn't easy. I started it and it shot across the floor and broke the pantry door. Then it bounced over and broke the leg off of the kitchen table. I tried to stop it but it wouldn't shut off. YOU said it was easy!”

Confused I asked, “What do you mean it wouldn't shut off? All you have to do is let go of the handle.”

“I did let go of the handle. It wouldn't shut off and it wouldn't stop running into things. I had to unplug it to get it to stop!”

“What are you talking about? You aren't making any sense.”

I stomped inside and found mayhem and destruction. I also found the reason the buffer wouldn't shut off. She had only unwrapped half of the cord from one side of the handle. The other portion was firmly noosed around the other “go” handle. I turned around to explain this, with a couple of witty and sarcastic comments for spice, only to find that she had turned the waterworks on. Damn it. What kind of man is going to berate his woman when she is all teared up. “You said it was easy!” she said again. I could have fought this one out and won. "Remember," my brain said (probably the lower one mouthing off). "pick your battles and keep your priorities straight and you won't be having to lock yourself in the bathroom with Victoria and her Secrets nearly as often."

Standing there I began to picture what this fiasco must have looked like and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. After my fit of mirth, I grinned and answered “Yes, baby.” After a moment, she too smiled a little, and all was right in the world. Well, except for the closet and the table leg. I fixed the closet, repaired the kitchen table and in the interim I had somehow jumped up into the “sweetest man in the world” category. So you see, you get lemons you make hot and steamy... lemonade. What did you think I was going to say?

No, I am not telling you if I got any you pervert.

Talk to ya soon.

The Cider Chronicles Part II

2006-11-16T23:52:00.000-05:00

My cider is in the secondary fermenter which happens to be a six gallon glass carboy with an airlock on top. I live in Florida so setting my fermenter up in a basement is pretty much out of the question. (Yes, I know there are basements in Florida but I don't have one. I'll dig it if you stay and bail it.) But, I have an old refrigerator out in the garage that has a shot thermostat and the seals on the water tubing that supplied the ice maker are also toast. The compressor is completely functional, the fridge just won't stop running once plugged in. What a perfect box to store my liquor. Even if the thermostat worked perfectly, its highest setting (warmest) is still too cold to allow fermentation to progress at a desired rate, but I found a fix for that.

The temperature problem was easily remedied by getting a Johnson Control temperature controller. This little gadget is self contained box and comes with a length of tubing and a temperature sensing bulb. I ran the thin tubing through the front door seal (basically close the door over it) and the box hangs on the outside door handle. The box plugs into the wall outlet and the fridge plugs into the controller. There you have it, an upright basement! I set the dial to 60 degrees F and walk away. The unit has something like a 3 degree temp. differential so the compressor doesn't get overloaded by frequent starts and stops. Set at 60 the controller kicks on the fridge when it gets to 63 and shuts off when temp. drops to 57. A nifty little box and if you shop around and don't mind used, your wallet won't suffer a whole lot.

Toughest thing for me in this new endeavor is waiting for the cider to age. I tasted the cider blend before placing it in the primary fermenter. I tasted it again when the time came to transfer it to the glass carboy (secondary). Now, I have to wait for at least 3 weeks before I get to sample my experiment again. Ha, or so I thought. I often make a trip out to the garage to just take a gander at that golden treasure as it sits in my fridge. The controller has yet to pass its reliability phase so I feel that temperature checks every 3 or 4 days are prudent. I also study the cider with a critical eye to see if anything is there that should not be. So during my visual tonight, what did I see? Mold! That's right, two small specks of dark colored mold about six inches down from the top of the carboy (but not in or near the cider). I dropped a few curses and stomped around the garage looking for something to throw at the neighbors cat (well, not really but I was peeved)

My plan was to start with a small batch of 3 gallons because the first time (usually not just) is when something will go wrong due to inexperience. I would shed a tear if I lost 3 gallons, but dumping 6 might cause an embolism. The only drawback to the 3 gallon approach is there is only enough cider to fill both the primary and secondary fermenter half way. The primary fermenter is not a major concern for contamination because the aggressive yeast/sugar reaction and resulting CO2 production greatly lower the risk of a ruined batch (Cider tasted fine after primary fermentation so I am inclined to go along with this line of thinking) Secondary fermentation is where I was most worried of contaminates ruining the batch. The next batch will be at least 5 gallons to reduce the real estate available for those damn illegals, I mean contaminates, to make a home.

Return from sidebar. I stomped back inside to jump on the info express and find out if my life long rule of , “if it don't taste rotten, you can eat or drink it” applied or I was going to have to water my lawn with my first brew. Sure enough, I was not the first poor sap to have this experience. The answer across multiple sites was the same – can't be sure until you taste it. Now that, I could do. I cleaned and sanitized my primary fermenter and transferred the cider from my carboy back into it. During the transfer process multiple tastings were required to ensure quality, and I am happy to say that my cider is doing fine and back in the fridge in its new plastic, air-locked home. The level of cider is a mite lower than previously but hey, I had to be sure!

“Hey! How did it taste bonehead? I followed your rambling this far and you haven't told me if it was good, decent, or you would rather suck gas through a garden hose than drink it again!”

It tasted good. There, you happy? It had an apple toned champaign taste, without the carbonation. It was medium in dryness and that is about as sophisticated as I can get for you. If you want all that, “earthy undertones with a rosy nose” crap you will have to head to one of those upstate yuppy bars where you can swap pedicure horror stories with the other metrosexuals.

Talk to ya soon.

The Spice of Life

2006-11-15T21:42:00.000-05:00

I had mentioned before of my “phone guy” occupation, well to be a bit more specific, I install and troubleshoot network and telephone equipment for residential and commercial customers. “Can you hear me now?” In my first post I had mentioned that given the choice of any occupation, I would choose Professional Traveler and this is as close as I can get right now. My cubicle is a van and the roads are my passageways. It is a position that suits me because, as in the words of the Allman Brothers, “ Lord, I was born a ramblin man” (In more ways than one it seems).

My travels take me to interesting places and new discoveries of all kinds. One thing I love to explore and search for is great places to eat. Today I happened across a small place that I found excellent. When trying new places, I am drawn to the smaller establishments, the mom and pops or 'the hole in the wall' types. They are usually less crowded, more personable and their smaller floor plans put me that much closer to the exits ;-). I have not been to an Indian restaurant in America and the building I happened to be working in was right next door to a brand new Indian Cuisine joint.

The Spice of Life, it was called and I made a B-line for it after packing up my tools. I walk in the door and this little old Indian lass immediately smiles and says, “Will you be having the buffet?” My cautious optimism showed in my grin. Buffets are like anything else, they can be great, mediocre, or serve slop that would make a Navy Mess Specialist look like Justin Wilson. Ah, but I digress. The buffet was a small one, which in my book is a mark in their favor, as quality and quantity don't often mix. After a quick look over the selection I nodded, picked up a plate and started treating my pallet to some fine Indian Cuisine.

I ate Paneer Pakora. Paneer is a type of cheese common in Indian cooking and Panner Pakora is a type of cheese dumpling that is deep fried - they were great. Joining my new dumpling friends were a healthy scoop of Bombay Aloo – potatoes cooked in a spicy sauce, a bit of Egg Curry – hard boiled eggs in a spicy curry sauce, a leg of Chicken Roganjosh – dunno what was in it but it was tasty. As a plate cleaner, I had a few pieces of Naan (flat) bread. Underneath it all was a bed of basmati rice. It was superb, I sampled each one first before I tore into it with reckless abandon. The little old lady came over several times to ask if everything was o.k. and she gave me a little background on some of the dishes I was eating (now that I think back, maybe it was the growling at her patrons who edged to close to my table that kept her coming back). You will not get that at a chain restaurant - the cordial and engaging owner that is; I growl at lots of folks.

The second plate contained more of what I had in the first and an added sample of some type of shredded cabbage dish but I can't remember the name. No complaints on the second plate whatsoever. I polished the meal off with a small bowl of Kheer (spiced rice pudding) and a couple Gulab Juman. The rice pudding was excellent but the Gulab Juman was a little sweet for my taste buds. Gulab is some type of pastry ball that is served in a very sweet syrup.

It was a great experience and now I have a new place marked to have lunch when I am in that area. So a pox on house Mc'Donald, and lord Burger King! In the words of Mr. Cowper - “Variety ’s the very spice of life”

Talk to ya soon.

A must read

2006-11-14T00:51:00.000-05:00

I am sure many have heard the famous quote:

"If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquillity of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, — go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen! " - Samuel Adams

Go to this site and read the entire speech delivered at the State House in Philadelphia on August 1, 1776. It is a moving oration and its truths remain constant!

http://douglassarchives.org/adam_a29.htm

Enjoy.

They went that way

2006-11-14T00:16:00.000-05:00

I thought I would bring the caliber of my blog up a notch or two by adding a couple of links to a few folks that I respect and enjoy visiting. I plan on making this a continued effort as I come across sites that I like – there are fewer than you might think. Mr. Barry Eisler is a best selling author of a great series of books containing a multifaceted character named John Rain. Did I mention that Mr. Rain knows more ways to kill ya than Paris Hilton knows low-light positions? If you want a good read, pick up an Eisler book.

Then we come to Mr. Bean; there isn't a whole lot I am going to say about this gentleman as I don't want to ruin the surprise. I have never met him personally but I would definitely buy him a beer or six should we ever cross paths. Don't let his Rebel Yell fool ya, this man is sharp. (Don't tell him I told ya though :-))

If you want to go to a one-of-a-kind site on self defense, I recommend no nonsense self defense. These folks know what they are talking about and this site if full of enough useful information to keep a layman like myself busy for some time. They will not give you directions on how to construct a Kusari gama, get all dressed up in black silk P.J.s and take out an army of booger eaters. But, they will give you honest, clear and accurate information on protecting yourself and the ones you hold dear. These folks have been there and done that. No T-shirts, sorry. They are good people and you can only learn by going there.

That should be enough to get ya started. Talk to ya soon.

An apple a day

2006-11-12T23:33:00.000-05:00

So I have started in on a new experiment; one that I already enjoy to no end. I have joined a brotherhood of men that stretches back through history. I am making my own beer; hard cider to be precise. Having traveled a bit here and there, it was not difficult to come to the conclusion that this massed produced swill called “American Cider” tastes more like a wine cooler than the cider our European friends and , I expect, our forefathers brewed. Being of the “do it yourself” ilk, I think I can do it better (which translates to - taking alot longer than I originally thought, costing more, breaking things and trying on new curse words for size) and the 'drinking my way to perfection' part outwieghs all the do-it-yourselfer woes. But first, a bit of history for your viewing pleasure.

It seems hard cider was found worthy of mention back as far as 55 B.C.. While Mr. Julius Caesar was out on a leisurely, conquering stroll across Kent, England, he found the locals throwing back a few tall ones of the apple variety. The Romans, not known for their piety or abstinence, took to the drink quite readily. Having the Romans stumbling across cider, it's not hard to see how its popularity spread quickly across their area of influence.

Then we come to the land of our fathers, the good ole' U.S. of A. It seems that it was considerably harder to grow beer staples compared to apples (apples were not an indigenous fruit) that hard cider quickly grew in popularity to easily become the most desired alcoholic drink in colonial times. Hell, because of the harmful bacteria contained in drinking well water, causing many a stomach to protest, and given the marvelous effects that fermentation has on certain bacteria, hard cider came to be preferred to water in many settlements (now there is a time and place I could visit and stay a while :-)). Our second president used to drink it at breakfast to settle his stomach and I am telling you, Johnny Appleseed didn't plant all those trees for the cobbler.

Cider was rocking and rolling along until the temperance movement. That's right, a bunch of “we know what's good for you and you don't have a clue” types got together and decided to put an end to this depravity once and for all. (Sound familiar?) It looks to have started in Baltimore by a group of friends whose lives were in the skids because they couldn't control themselves. These folks took a pledge, called themselves Washingtonians and went on the warpath. Quickly gathering radicals and extremist to their cause, their influence grew until they had farmers cutting down entire orchards of the devil's fruit. This looks to be the roots of the latter prohibition movement and it only got better from there. ;-)

So you see, I accomplish many things with this undertaking – a celebration of my American heritage and a belated protest to all those wadded panties of the Washingtonian persuasion. I have 3 gallons in a secondary fermenter now and will let you know how things progress. Until then my grocer's beer supply will have to do. Cheers!

What the?

2006-11-10T16:41:00.000-05:00

Here we go again; another person who thinks he has something that merits reading. Another one of those damn bloggers that is sending our nation into ruin faster than Anna Nicole Smith can up-chuck a large pepperoni pizza. So, I imagine you are asking with a malcontented sigh, “O.K. Who is this knucklehead?”

The answer to that question is quite simple; I am one Alan Deal.

Not enough of an answer? O.K. You asked for it. I am a southern boy who by some miraculous wonder has reached the ripe old age of 32. Now when I tell you that I live in the fine state of Florida, some will cry “Southern Hell! Florida ain't no southern state, it is a damn displaced state of the Union.” If you are a politically correct southerner, I expect you would call Florida 'geographically challenged'. While at times I might agree with you, I have to say that you can be southern and live in Florida. “How the hell canya do that?”, you might ask.

Well, I have pushed a plow, held the box while my father shook a renegade swarm of bees into it – so we could put them in a hive, wrestled cows, warmed powdered milk to give to calves bought at auction, grown and picked okra, blackberries, pole beans, tomatoes, strawberries, corn, and lots of other edible delicacies, been out in the middle of the night with a flash light and a gig poking frogs and throwing them in a bucket – cleaning said frogs in the back of the truck as we returned to the house (occasionally testing both the aerodynamic properties and impact patterns of inedible parts on front doors and stationery objects), cleared property, split wood, dip snuff, ran fence, shot furry critters, cleaned and ate'em and I did then and still do call going to a cluster of retail outlets - “going to town” so if that ain't country...

Now that I have proven my southernness :) , I can continue. My occupation of choice is professional traveler but since I can't afford that I have settled for a phone guy. Ambiguous I know but that will just have to do for now. A huge reason for starting this blog was simply to write. As I am sure you can tell, I have the only the most tenuous grasp on the English language. So, I figure if I practice at this here literacy stuff, I am bound to get better at it. This blog will be a hodge-podge if you will (hell, it will be if you won't), a stew of topics and ideas that strike my fancy at a particular time. I am also hoping that this will serve as an outlet to vent frustration on various topics and people. That's right, there will probably be times that I rant like hell. I have found the perfect captive – my PC. On that note, I ain't PC on my PC – so if you find something offensive you are welcome to click one of those buttons up there that take you to your happy place. I think that is enough for a brief intro.

Talk to ya soon.