1 hour ago
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A friend sent me a quote, allegedly from the Czech Republic, that nails exactly where this country is at.
But I am a responsible blogger. I verify my facts before I publish them.
That's where I found this.
As with most of life, the truth is stranger than the fiction.
This quote was actually from a Letter to the Editor from a Clarksville Tennessee newspaper.
And, as usual, the comments section is a hoot.
The danger to America is not Barack Obama but a citizenry capable of entrusting a man like him with the presidency. It will be far easier to limit and undo the follies of an Obama presidency than to restore the necessary common sense and good judgment to an electorate willing have such a man for their president.
The problem is much deeper and far more serious than Obama, who is a mere symptom of what ails America.
Blaming the prince of fools should not blind anyone to the vast confederacy of fools that made him their prince. The republic can survive a Barack Obama, who is, after all, merely a fool.
It is less likely to survive a multitude of fools such as those who made him our president, who continue to support him and who allow those in Congress who support him to remain in office.
We have had the problem of ignorant voters for years. How else do you explain FDR's 4 terms?
But lately the problem has become endemic. Because now we have more voters who don’t pay to support the government the have chosen than voters who are forced to support to it.
Coupled with the rampant voter fraud, we are doomed.
Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe we can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
But we’d better by God hurry.
The recent 2nd Amendment case decided by the US Supreme Court was 5-4. Yeah, the good guys won, but it was close. Stevens will be (God help the Republic) replaced by Kagan, a political hack of the first order, and lets all pray as hard as we can that Roberts, Scalia, Thomas and Alito stay healthy until 2012.
You do realize that the fate of the Constitution depends on none of those 4 getting hit by a bus for the next two years, right?
Yeah, it’s THAT damn close.
I almost forgot about the picture. The seal says Community Organizer of the United States.
That makes him COOTUS.
You just can't make this crap up.
As usual, it was Instapundit who lead me to something interesting on the 'net.
And the comments are half the fun.
The analysis is spot on. When was the last time a protest accomplished anything? The damned hippies think it was their protests that stopped the Vietnam War, so they think the response to anything is a sit in in the Student Union.
Or its equivalent.
This world will be a 1000% better once the last bead-wearing, dope-smoking, long haired ignorant ass finally drops dead.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Dear Cousin Red,
There ain’t nuthin’ as expensive as somethin’ free.
If’n that doesn't make sense to y’all, then you are a lucky soul.
And I got proof I’m right; just read on, Cuz.
On Father's Day The Wife took The Young'Un to see my Father-in-Law. He's a good old boy, and I ain't got nuthin' agin 'im.
The Young’Un has wanted a pool fer ferever, and I ain’t ever wanted one. They say a boat is a hole in the water y’all throw money inta, but a pool is a hole full a’ water y’all constantly throw money inta.
So The Wife brings home a pool that her Dad gave The Young’Un. It’s one of those 10 foot round by 3 foot deep pools in box. All you need to add is water.
And Money. Money fer the test kit, money fer the chemicals, money fer the toys. Yeah toys. Can’t have a pool- even one that only holds 900 gallons a‘ water- without a floaty ring, a beach ball and a noodle. A freakin’ beach ball. The nearest dang beach is ‘bout an hour away, and ain’t even a real beach, fer cryin’ out loud!
And after a week of swimmin’ the water is shot. The filter is the kind that takes a paper filter cartridge, an’ maybe would keep a 10 gallon fish tank clean. If’n y’all didn’t keep fish in it.
So right now I’m dumping 900 gallons a’ water over the hill so we can clean the pool and refill it. And buy some new filter cartridges.
At three bucks a piece.
This ‘Free’ pool has so far cost me about $60 and a coupla afternoons. And the only time it got me wet was when The Young’un splashed me while I was tryin’ to fix the filter. AGAIN.
And it ain’t done yet. I’ve either gotta replace the water once a week- Ka’ching!- or buy a new filter that will actually work- Ka’ching! Ka’ching!- or make The Young’Un unhappy ‘cause she LOVES the pool.
I don’t guess I need ta tell y’all where that leaves me?
That sound you hear is me openin’ my wallet to keep the pool open. Everything is cheap if it keeps The Young’Un happy.
And nuthin’ is more expensive than a free pool.
Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,
Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter
Dear Cousin Red,
Just a quick note to let y’all know how things are goin’ here in the Holler. Some folks have asked me where I got the name Throckmorton.
I was named after my rich Great-Uncle Quincy. He went by Quincy ‘cause he didn’t like Throckmorton any more than I do. I was named after him in hopes he would leave some money in our direction, but he wound up leaving it to a young nurse he knew, probably in the biblical sense. But I ain’t got it as bad as my youngest brother, Beverly. We didn’t have any sisters, and he was named after a great-aunt with a few coins to leave. All he got was a fine collection of used flea collars.
Speakin’ of kinfolk, my Uncle Billy was just made a granddad for the first time, by his daughter, Hills. They say the kid is the spitin’ image of his son-in-law Josh. To bad Josh is married to his Hills’ twin, Beverly. She didn’t get the money, either. All she got was a large jar full of parts left over from neutering tomcats. Josh claims that half the kids in the Holler look like him. His wife says that doesn’t help his case at all. It just reminds her that there may be room in that jar for one more set. Ain’t they goin’ to be a fun bunch at the family reunion?
Speakin’ of family reunions, we‘ve got one comin’ up on my dad’s side. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ my second cousin, once removed, Earl. In case some of y’all don’t know about that once removed stuff, here’s the way it works. Once removed means one time we threw Earl out of the family reunion for lightin’ bottle rockets in Granny’s tobacco barn. Earl says it was a moment’s loss of good sense. Granny says that moment started when he was about 5 or 6.
But anyway, he’s goin’ to make his first reunion since then, maybe. Granny ain’t decided if she’ll let him come or not. Earl claims his old banishment don’t count, cause this year he ain’t comin’ as a born in, but a married in, since he’s now married to my brother’s second ex-wife. She’s still invited ‘cause she makes the best potato salad. Granny says she might allow Earl to come, but only if she gets his lighter first.
Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,
Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Late this morning we got buzzed by a B-17, flying low and slow. By the time I figured out what the noise was and got outside I just saw the last of it disappearing into the trees.
An hour later when It flew over again I was a little better prepared, and got a shot of the tail end, again just disappearing into the trees.
So this afternoon I decided to camp out on the back porch with the video camera. I would be ready.
The B-17 has to be my favorite WW-II bomber. I don't know why. Maybe it was its record for survivability; or maybe just the shear numbers of them produced. Maybe it is all the guns; leaving no corner unprotected.
They were unheated, unarmored and were shot down over Germany in surprising numbers; but it ain't just me; the B-17 has a massive fan club. I have to get a picture today. Video would be even better.
So for the last 3 hours I have sat on my back porch, jumping every time I heard what I believed to be the rumble of a multi-engined prop plane. The helicopter I jumped up for was not a rookie mistake. It was an old piston engined one, and the echo caused by the porch roof made me mistake it for B-17.
The old pickup without a muffler, coupled with the neighbor's air conditioner and the damned porch roof echo was an easy mistake to make too. Especially if you want it to be a Flying Fortress.
I know I heard it twice, flying just south of me and below the tree line. But could have been an echo coming up the river valley.
Pretty shortly I will need to go to get ready to leave for my Father's Day Dinner, and I still have got nothing to show for my afternoon's labors.
This is supposed to be MY DAY DANG IT!!!
I just need the rest of you to cooperate!
So, here I am finishing up this blog post when I hear the rumble I have been listening for all afternoon. I grab the camera and fly outside. YEP! There it is!
So the camera takes its sweet time to boot up, and I have trouble locating the plane in the sky. Then it goes behind one of my trees!
When it comes out the other side I am ready. I get some fine. long distance footge of her flying away.
And yes; I think it was worth it.
And BLOGGER ate my video!!!!!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
This year Father’s Day has a new twist for me.
I am a grandfather again, but this time I have a Grandson.
So I started thinking about Grandfathers and Grandsons.
How do I want to say this so it doesn’t come out wrong?
Women have gotten a bad shake, in some respects, in the name game. Born with one name, die with another. Trying to track what has happened to the daughters of a family is tough, if you don’t have the marriage records. But a man’s name is his to pass on.
I hope that statement didn’t exasperate any of my readers, because a generalization is usually wrong, and I made a very sweeping generalization. But for a reason.
My Dad was the youngest of 6, and the only son. My Grandpa had 14 grandsons by the time I came along; but none of them carried his last name. I was the one that did. I have no idea how that made him feel, but I know how I felt the day The Boy was born. Almost as if a weight were lifted; I had one less thing to worry about. Another generation was now carrying The Name.
As I write that it sounds goofy. But I don’t think the concept is; maybe just the way I’m saying to makes it sound that way.
Down through history the eldest son was always the king; the patriarch; the one to inherit. A definite aura accompanies the first born son; something Herod knew well. And you always read about how a family name has died out because of a lack of sons; how proud the name was and what it once stood for. Sons carry on in a way daughters do not.
Again, that sounds rather sexist. Maybe it is. But society functions as it does; I neither condemn nor condone; I accept. Things have changed a lot in the last 100 years; who knows what he next 100 will do?
But, as usual, I digress.
I was talking about Fathers and Sons. Or more specifically, Grandfathers and Grandsons.
Both of my Grandpas had strokes before I was born. Each was affected differently, but neither was able to be the special confidant and buddy a granddad is supposed to be. The adult who can think like a child, and enjoys doing so. The one who can play hooky on a Friday afternoon- because their career is no longer ‘building’, but built- for a t-ball game, or a quick stop at the Dairy Queen on the way home from school (but DO NOT tell your mother).
They do the things for the grandsons they couldn’t for their sons. Things I am looking forward to doing.
Today I will visit the cemetery, and again visit my Dad, and his, and his grandpa. Later I’ll have my sons and grandkids around and we will enjoy a little dinner and some fun. I’ll hold The Boy on my lap and make promises he won’t yet understand; promises I hope I’ll be able to keep.
And in the early evening I’ll sit on my porch, watch the sun complete its daily journey and drop silently below the western tree line while I raise a toast to my forefathers, and my sons, and grandson, and spend a few minutes in reflection on how we turn from sons to fathers and to grandfathers.
And how our lives are sweeter for the journey.
Happy Father's Day to those who are celebrating!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I ran into a post over at Althouse that seemed to get a lot of attention; including mine.
The premise was folks who are college educated are (gasp and horrors!!!!) actually going back to working with their hands instead of their heads. And becoming happier.
I blame the schools. How can some idiot who has had what little common sense they were born with educated out of them see any good in a path BUT education?
Steer those kids away from plumbing and carpentry; let them spend a fortune on college and THEN work on a career skill.
So now we have generations of people how have a degree in a useless (damn; I almost said discipline) field, and absolutely no idea how to earn a living.
And they can’t work with their hands; they have an EDUCATION don’t ya know.
Ever wonder why a good plumber is $100 bucks an hour? Because he was the one with enough sense to tell his guidance counselor to pound sand when she suggested that someone with his brains should go to college, instead of wasting his mind playing with water.
It used to be the useless people went to college, because stuffing them full of book learning was the only way to get any use out of them.
Now it’s the worthless fools that mostly get shuffled off to vocational school, to get them out of the ‘real’ classroom.
Educators don’t seem to realize that the real classroom is outside of the school building.
But, I digress.
The point is working with your mind or your back.
My 22 year old son- never known as a philosopher- said to me the other day that there are two kinds of jobs in this world; those you shower for and those you shower after.
The ones you shower for tend to have higher salaries; I guess because the ones you shower after tend to have a little more satisfaction.
You have something concrete to point to.
At one point I worked for a cousin who hung and finished drywall. I can still go down the road and point buildings I worked in. I have left my mark. I used to work in a place that made parts for diesel truck engines. Whenever I see a truck with one of those engines I have to wonder if it is running some of the parts I made.
Oh; the video?
Is the guy who operates this machine working with his head or his hands?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
And then some days A LOT will fall. I estimate we had 4 inches of rain yesterday.
In an HOUR.
Rumor was this was the same storm that caused the flash floods in Arkansas that killed 9 people.
The picture above is the crick in front of my house during a normal rain. A lot of times it is dry this time of year. The one below is the same view, but at the height of the flood.
I have a little fire pit down in a bend of the creek. The water got a little too deep to enjoy a fire yesterday.
The storm also created a water feature in the flower bed in front of the house. This was just water that was running down the sidewalk next to the house.
After the rain quit, and I could walk down the driveway instead of swim, (I tried to post a video here, but Blogger had an ISSUE) I went to the main road and got a couple of pictures.
Between the two guardrails is the road. The creek is normally 4 FEET below the road level.
The water on the road is about 14 inches deep, and down stream spread out to cover a two acre field.
Yeah, we got some rain.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Since I work during the day I can very seldom listen to the radio between 9 and Noon, but this morning I was able to try and catch a few minutes of Mike McConnell's program on WLW.
Today Scott Sloan was on, with no mention of where McConnell was.
Politburo-like, no mention means bad news on Clear Channel.
So I did a little hunting and found this.
Damn and Double Damn.
I have been catching McConnell off and on during the day for I know over 25 years. I have been listening since Trivia Mondays. How long ago was that?
Hell, I even fixed his car once (an early '80s Buick big body (LeSabre I think) with a V-6; it had to be a dog on the highway.
But Mike never was. I can't remember ever turning his show off because it wasn't interesting.
And I seldom disagree with him; that makes him a purty smart individual right there.
But this ain't the old days. I won't have to lay awake nights hoping for a clear night and some WGN skip.
I can tune WGN in on my computer, or in the car on my iPhone.
I just won't be supporting WLW anymore.
Check out some of the comments in the article from the Sun-Times. The first few weeks of Mike in Chicago may be a real hoot.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Today is June 6th.
66 years ago today the Allied forces landed in France and began the end of the Third Reich.
Every year on this day I watch The Longest Day. I read the book of the same name by Cornelius Ryan many years ago and have enjoyed the movie for the last few years since I found it on tape.
Its often said that Freedom isn't free, and sometimes I think we are too far away from exactly how high that cost is.
When every family had at least one son or daughter in uniform and everyone knew at least one Gold Star Mother we knew the cost of freedom and weren't willing to let it go cheaply.
Now, we don't know the cost of Freedom, or the price of getting it back. Ben Franklin said those who trade liberty for security deserve neither, and I really don't think we have either at this point.
Each day we lose a little more liberty, for the sake of security, but are no more secure than we were the day before, and maybe less so, because we are now prepared for what the enemy was doing, not what they are doing, but because we have 'done something' we have a false sense of security.
The stories about D-Day- even those produced when a film was supposed to entertain- help put that cost in perspective. Unlike Saving Private Ryan , which manages a realism in both language and gore that The Longest Day lacks, I think Ryan lacks the comprehensive historical overview Day has. And the lack of realism makes for a better story.
I want to review the events of D-Day; not be traumatized by them.
So take a minute today and remember the cost of freedom.
And then ask yourself why we have placed such a low cost on its loss.
I don't hire anybody to do anything.
Take this project.
About 8 years ago my brother bought a pool table. It was a retired coin operated one that had had the change box removed. And it came wih a new felt.
As his location was somewhat less than ideal, to say the least, he never replaced the felt.
When he moved he had no room for the table and when my son bought his house 2 years ago, this pool table was just about the first thing he moved in.
To his garage.
By then it had been disassembled. The felt was completely shot and the bunpers and slate (yes, slate, not slates; this slate is 47" by 90" by an inch thick) had been removed.
After almost 2 years in the garage last weekend we moved it into the basement, and over the last few evenings I installed the 8 year old felt on the table and recovered all of the bumpers.
I don't think it turned out to bad for my first one.
It seems to play well. I won the game I played on it, and promptly retired undefeated!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
I found this through Instapundit.
And yep; we have been hearing about the coming age of the electric auto for over 100 hundred years.
Jay Leno has a video on his Baker Electric that adds a few reasons why electric cars have been the red headed step-child of the auto industry for the last 100 years.
I also saw an article comparing the charge times for a electric with the refueling times for a gas car, and each electric service station would need to cover 5 acres to service as many cars an hour as a 6 pump gas station.
Yeah, there may come a day for the electric car; give it another 100 years.