What A Sunday!

Okay; this week sucked.

Our computers were down at work; the weather was too hot, my father-in-law had surgery on Wednesday and we had a death in the family on Thursday.

This week was bad.

I was looking forward to Friday night. Friday night is my unwind night. Slip into the comfys and drink beer; that is my Friday.

Pop-in-law is still in the hospital and The Wife needs a ride Friday night. Plus, we have the Young'un and she needs to be home at 8:30.

We didn't get back to the house from our errands until 9:30. So much for my comfys and beer.

Well, there is always Saturday.

Yeah, well; about Saturday.

Saturday morning I moved 200 bales of hay for my sister, did a few things around the house and just when it was BEER:30 I found out I need to take The Wife to the hospital again.

While we were there I realized my right elbow was swollen and on the way home we stopped by the Urgent Care for a little medical exam. They really didn't help; it's Saturday night and I can't bend my beer drinkin' arm for crap's sake! A couple of prescriptions and they sent e home.

At 9:30.

One beer and off to bed.

Sunday is not normally one of my beer drinkin' days.

But at 7:00, just by happenstance, I turned on the TV and started surfing.

And ran into a Jimmy Buffet concert- live from the Gulf Coast of Alabama.

I have spent the last hour and a half in my recliner; drinkin' beer and watching Jimmy Buffet perform some of his biggest hits.

If somebody would have bonked me in the head with an inflatable shark I would have thought was there. I had the surround sound cranked and the beer was flowing.

Ahhhhhhhh.....

Now I'm ready for Monday.

Come Monday, it'll be alright, come Monday I'll be holding you tight...

Sorry; for a minute there I was gone to the Bahamas...

Oh what the Hell...

Wastin' away again in Margaritaville...
Lookin' for my lost shaaaker of salt...

(Don't mind me; I'll be here all night)

Some people claim...

Spies in the State Department is Not News

I found this, as usual, thorugh Instapundit.

I haven't been following this episode very closely. Aren't Russian spies, like, so Eighties?

Even finding them in the State Department is as old as McCarthy fer cryin' out loud.

But what caught my eye in this article is that under his assumed name one of these spies earned a Master’s in Public Administration from Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government in 2000. And Harvard is debating whether or not to revoke the degree.

My question:

Was it difficult for an avowed Communist to earn this degree?

If there is any accademic rigor in this place at all, then this degree requird hours of classwork, tests, papers and most likely classroom discussion.

I have no idea if he did well; Hell, we can't even get Obama's grades out of Harvard. State secrets? No problem; delivered in the morning mail. But unlike our latest technology and war plans, Harvard Grades are important. But; I digress.

This Spy did well enough to graduate.

When an avowed Communist can graduate from Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government, what does THAT say about Harvard?

And Proclaim Liberty Through Out The Land

Everybody knows the Liberty Bell has a crack.

Have you ever thought about the crack as an analogy for liberty itself?

Perfect Liberty is flawed; just as the Bell is.

If we are allowed the ability to act freely, then we must take responsibility, and face the consequences of our acts. And some acts have severe repercussions.

And acts can’t be withdrawn. You can’t unring a bell; can you? (Come on; you knew I’d go there.)

Liberty is not perfect. We trade some liberty for security daily. The freedom to drive as we please is traded for the security of licensing and traffic laws. The absolute freedom of speech is traded for the security of false cries of ‘Fire’. Some liberties are curtailed; others lost completely, sacrificed on the altar of security.

Should we have perfect liberty? Could we handle it? Laws are passed that curtail one individual’s liberty, while granting extra liberty to others. Every smoking ban takes away the liberty of a property owner to do as he wishes with his property, while granting an extra liberty to those who abhor tobacco smoke.

Some merely restrict liberty and only grant a false sense of security; like gun control statutes.

So back to the Liberty Bell and its famous crack. The Bell swung free until 1846, when the crack rendered the bell useless as a free swinging bell. Since then it has only been tolled, or struck with out swinging. Prior to then it was rung on many occasions. But as the years roll on it has even been tolled less; usually on very special days.

Kind of like the way we treat liberty itself today. We drag it out and display the fact that we are free to do this or that, but fail to remember we once were able to this, that and the other thing, and that other thing besides. We don’t lament the liberty we have lost; only celebrate the small one we have left.

And we forget the wars that have kept that liberty safe for us. Maybe that is why we have lost the drive to protect our freedom; we look around and see so little of it left.

Ya Gotta Go With The Facts, Part II

I had a comment on my previous post from my Fellow John Wayne fan and blogger Trooper York that required a better answer than I wanted to give as a comment.

So I made a whole post out of it.

This too will pass.

You are old enough to remember Jimmy Carter. The problem is too many hipster doofus types are not. Add that to 100% of the black vote, Republicans staying home because they hated John McCain and the type of liberal like the evil blogger lady who just wanted to give the nice clean cut black guy a chance and you have the accidental Obama Presidency.

Sometimes it has to hit bottom before you can turn it around.



Yes Trooper, I remember Carter.

I also remember who brought us out of that malaise.

Where is our 2012 Reagan? The person who can appeal not only to the right but the middle?

Hell, most Republicans don’t even appeal to the whole GOP.

And we are dependent on the GOP picking that viable candidate in 2012. Not another Bob Dole; not another John McCain; not another Gerald Ford.

Do you see why I’m worried?

The polls I saw today show the top three as Palin, Huckabee and Romney.

Personally, I like Palin. But she is very divisive; some folks I’ve talked to have an unreasonable, visceral hatred of her; people who I would have thought would have been a fan of hers. In that way Palin is like Reagan; nobody I’ve ever talked to was neutral on either of them. Absolute love or visceral hatred.

Palin also does not have 100% support from the GOP. But then neither did Reagan.

Huckabee may have some Republican support, but a lot of folks are lukewarm. Personally; I can take him or leave him. Can he beat Obama? Today? Jimmy Carter could probably beat Obama in the Democratic primaries; that’s how low Obama has sunk.

But we’re not talking today; were talking 2 years from now; when we may have two more years of Obama with a Republican controlled Legislature. That may make a difference; especially if Obama wises up and starts moving toward the center.

Yeah, I know; fat chance of that.

Romney; what can I say about Romney? There is the ‘cold fish ‘perception of him that may or may not be true, an d he is from Massachusetts, so you have to wonder if he is conservative enough to for some folks, or just not as liberal as the rest of the state.

Besides, he hasn’t ignited the base in the last 10 years, why would he in the next two?

And then, in 2006, who would have thought Obama would be squatting in the White House?

Suggesting that the newly elected junior Senator from Illinois would be President probably would have been sufficient evidence to have you committed to the loony bin in 2006. 2008 was Hillary!’s year, remember?

So maybe we do have a Republican Moses, out there ready to lead the GOP out if the wilderness; someone not yet in the public eye.

I sure hope so. We can’t afford even 2 mores of the Democrats being in charge, much less 6 more.

And about the 'Evil Blogger Lady'; her opinions are important because she is a swing voter, not a party ideologue. What caused her (and her ilk) to vote for Bush? What caused her to vote Obama? finding out the answers will probably be more important to the 2010 and 2012 elections than whatever you or I think Trooper.

Ya Gotta Go With The Facts

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 quote?

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.

STAN HAYES
CLARKSVILLE 37043

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.

I Like the Way This Guy Thinks

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.

Another Letter From The Holler

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.

Usually.

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

Another Letter From My Cousin

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

And Now Lets Look at the Tape

How I Spent My Afternoon

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!!!!!

Happy Father's Day, Y'all!

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!

Watch the Video; Be Impressed

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.

Hogwash.

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?