Monday, January 31, 2005

Hives, Worker Bees, and the Truth

I love those who defend city-life. They dance and dodge to the best of their ability when you try to pin them down on just what the city offers that the country does not. If you can ever force one to give you an answer you'll probably get a stuttering list of important sounding places that the cityboy has never actually stepped foot in.

The workerbee will prattle on about museums he doesn't go to, symphonies he's never been to, festivals he doesn't care about, and so on. Dispatching these one by one, you eventually come to the foregone conclusion. The city has more bars. Confronted with this.. they offer only deer in the headlights stares.

The fact is, he doesn't know why he's there at all, and if he does, he'd never admit it.

He's searching for something. He's searching for the Truth.

You know these people. They grew up in the country. They grew up in a good family, with a simple life. The problem is though, that simple life just didn't fit with them. They just couldn't accept that that really is all there is to it. They have images in their heads... put there by TV... of what they are supposed to be doing... of what is supposed to be fun... and it doesn't fit the simple life they grew up in.

So they scrap it all and head off to the Big City... in search of the Truth.

They get a job where they rot away in a cubicle for 8 hours a day. On Friday they go to all the bars. They drink but mostly they pose. They can't for the life of them figure out why people aren't coming up and talking to them like they do on TV. They cannot understand why its not fun like it is on TV. They then conclude that they are just in the wrong bar, and reslove to try a new place next week. Then they resolve the same thing the next week... and the next... and the next...

And every morning... there is a knock on their door. They climb out of bed half hung over... and they hear, "Hello. I'm the Truth."

"I'm sorry. I'm not looking for you. I'm looking for the Truth." they respond, and go back to bed.

These sad people waste their lives looking for exactly what they left behind.

Even sadder is the way this permeates so many aspects of people's lives. Christians get stuck in a similar rut, where they jump from church to church, always looking for some ideal that no church will ever live up too. Women jump from man to man looking for "Mr Right". Men jump from girl to girl, because they are convinced they are missing somthing.

And that's really it isn't it? What we have isn't good enough for us. We are continually assaulted with this media imposed ideal, until we believe if we don't have it we're missing out on what everyone else has.

In reality no one has it, and you may have just pissed away the best thing reality has to offer.

Have a nice day in your cubicle.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

500mph Waves vs. a Hippie on a Bicycle

Some time ago we had a debate on the value of a tsunami warning system, similar to that of the Pacific's, in the Indian Ocean. Now that some time has passed, and more is known about what actually happened... perhaps the debate can be put to rest.

The fact is... The system we have in the Pacific just isn't very good. But before we get to that, let's take a look at what happened.

The first person to hear of the quake of a fat hippie who happens to carry the beeper that gets alerted when the unmanned warning system detects a large undersea earth-quake. That particular hippie then... puts on his clothes... climbs on his bicycle and rides down to see what's what.

Initially the earthquake was greatly underestimated. they thought it was 6.5 or maybe 7.0. It wasn't until a few hours later that it was actualy bumped up to 8.0. That was the first time anyone in the US had any idea that a Tsunami was likely. Senarios were begun, as was a mad scramble to find reliable contacts in the high-risk areas.

This idea... that Americans were sitting by... just watching it all happen... is totally false. In fact, our tsunami detectors, and geologists didn't know about the Tsunami until they saw it confirmed on the internet.

The Tsunami hit Somalia before we could warn them.

Somalia is 3000 miles from the epicenter of the quake. The Tsunami reached it in just 6 hours.

Let us consider these facts shall we? Unmanned pager based watch systems... who's administrators admit on television it takes hours to confirm the existence of a Tsunami... and even longer to get a warning to relevant places.

Hours... Hours against 30 foot waves travelling at 500 miles per hour.

If a warning system had been in place, it's possible that someone in Somalia could've gotten word. The vast majority of the deaths however, wouldn't have been averted. The systems are designed for tsunami's that form far out in the vast expanses of the Pacific... where we would actually have time to act.

The Indian Ocean, is not the Pacific.

Let's face it boys... when the internet, and cable television are faster than your warning system, you have a problem.

There are places for such systems. The Pacific and the Atlantic make sense. The Indian Ocean does not. Its just a cold fact. Sometimes we are reminded that we are not all powerful. Sometimes we are ment to be humbled.

Those reaching for explaination... and looking for folks to blame... those seeking to circumvent such future disasters are simply excersizing base hubris.

There will always be natural disasters that wreak havoc. It is a natural condition of the World, as it was created by our Lord.

Friday, January 28, 2005

Whiskey, Wine, and Leaf

I was asked by our beloved Spacebunny not long ago, about a trend in the wine business. Corporations seem to be moving in and buying up wineries here and there. On a whole I do not see this as a bad thing... only a thing. It will go either way depending on the people in the corportations involved.

In the case of the French, I cannot help but hope and pray that all of their paltry relics are snatched up and forced to modernize. There is an analytical aspect to all distilling that the French abhore.

Since, in the case of wines I'm anything but a traditionalist... I have no problem pointing out that that attitude is what led the rampant
inconsistancy of French wines, and is why they are falling out of favor all over the world. I'm hoping the corporations bring with them modern analytical technology, and the modern quality controls that are used in America and Australia.

We'll always have good wine. Fear not.

Now that said, there are disturbing trends I notice. More and more we see wineries focusing on the bottle. It's well past the point that the marketing (the label and bottle) are more important than the wine inside it. Slickly marketed average wine abounds.

Another trend I see that could be troublesome is this mix-and-match wine making. Three Thieves is the most notable example of these. Three friends got together... and bought a bunch of stock bulk wine from wineries... and then they mix and match it together, attempting to come up with something excellent... from mediocre ingrediants. It's not a process I have any faith in. Blended wine... like blended whiskey... is an abomination.

On a happier note, Pinot Noir has caught my eye lately. I'm finding myself lusting after them more and more. Recommendations are welcome.

Now... On to Whiskey... I've some excellent news to report. Wild Turkey is offering a Tribute Bourbon.. aged 15 years... Understand that aging 10 years in the heat of Kentucky summers is like aging 40 in Europe... This truely fantastic whiskey is a tribute to Wild Turkey's venerable Master Distiller Jimmy Russell. This is fascinating for a number of reasons. Not the least of which, is the fact that Bourbon is never aged that long. 8-10 years... Doing so for more than 10 years and you end up with a taste that is something akin to chewing on a wet oak stick. They accomplished this by babying a few barrels... making sure they were just perfect... and then moving them to the coolest part of the warehouses.

The result is Wild Turkey Tribute. The limited number of barrel resulted in just 5,500 bottles being sold. At 90 bucks a pop... it's a bit of an investment... more than some folks can stomach.
Of course... I'll be buyin' two.

Thankfully Wild Turkey produces a number of less exclusive labels... Rare Breed... Russell's Reserve... that showcase Jimmy's skill and talent, without breakin' our poor alchoholic's wallet.

Still no report on Jim Beam Black. I'll try to get on that.

Tonight I believe I'm going to try Buffalo Trace. I'll let ya know about that.

Now on to the leaf! No doubt Zod will be thrilled to see this section added. While I'm a huge fan of tobacco shop tobacco... and by that.. I mean the stuff your local tobacco shop has in the jars at the counter... there is a brand I want to mention today.

If you ever come across Dark Star by McClelland is a treat... but... there is an English tobacco maker... Esoterica Tobacciana... They apparently employ a brilliant fella by the name of J.F. Germain who grows, blends, and ages the stuff with his boy. The name conjures up some arcane place off in the misty hills of CS lewis' imagination... and the smell of the stuff does the same. I've a tin of a particular mixture called "And so to bed". The smooth burning leaf is perfection. Its dark.. with hints of whiskey and the slightest sweetness...

No doubt Joy will be furious that I'm smoking it now, and she's missing out. She does love the smell of a pipe...

It's gonna be a good night boys. The fire's hot... there's pipe smoke... there's a comfortable chair... and a lab to curl up at my feet. There's a glass of dark bourbon... and there's a pretty girl to share it all with.

Winter ain't so bad.

*** Standard Friday rules apply. What are you drinkin', What are ya smokin', and who are ya drinkin' and smokin' with ***

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Art of the Rifle

First of all these format is entirely inadequate to address the art of shooting. That said, I like to talk about shootin'... so I'll try it just the same.

What we're gonna cover today is basic accuracy, shooting technique, and what you should expect from your guns.

Lets start off with the basics. You want a new rifle. The question you need to ask is, what is this rifle going to do for me? Is it going to be a deer rifle? Target? Are you a sniper wanna-be? If long distance shooting is your aim, then we're probly gonna be talking about a bolt-action of some kind. Most likely you're gonna spring for a Remington 700, a Browning A-Bolt, a Winchester Model 70, or a Savage.

I am a huge advocate of Savage. They are simply the best guns you can get for the money. In fact, they are the best guns you can get for double the money, and in some cases triple.

What ever you decide on, out of the box, what you are looking for is 1 minute of angle accuracy. Now obviously there is some debate on how you arrive at that 1 inch. The sissies over at Guns and Ammo find the center of the group, then measure out from there. While real men folk take the distance between the the two shots that are furthest apart. What this means is, when Guns and Ammo says they shot a 2 inch group... by our method... that's acctually a 4 inch group.

So... My expectations of a new rifle are pretty simple... 5 shots at 100 yards. Then you find the center of each hole. The distance, center to center of the two that are the furthest apart should be 1 inch or less.

Now... Your new rifle is not going to do that with every out-of-the-box ammo you run through it. Some ammo it's gonna love, and some it's gonna hate. You have to find what it loves. Rifles are all different. Two of the same exact make and model will love different ammunition. This is why you don't see me making ammo recommendations for long distance shooting. What my gun likes, means nothing to you. Even if you have a Savage 99 just like mine.

So... you have your new rifle... and if you have any sense at all its a Savage with the Accutrigger, a on/off muzzle break, and controlled round-feeding... and if it is all that... then congratulations... you're the proud new owner of a tack driver.

The next step is to purchase several boxes of several different brands of ammo, in different bullet sizes and types. Set yourself up at a bench with a target 100 yards away... I'm assuming of course your rifle is already sited in...

Now its time to shoot.

First of all... I don't want to here any of this "I ain't no sniper" crap. Shooting is about technique and discipline. You can do it. I'll settle for nothing less, so save your excuses for the women's auxillary you nancy-boy.

Shooting is... unbelievably... similar to golf. You must not think about what you're doing. In fact, you shouldn't be thinking of anything at all. Your sub-conscience handles this sort of thing. You conscience mind just gets in the way. So make like Bane and empty your head.

We're gonna start with bench shooting. In this situation you don't shoulder the rifle. You place it on the rest so it practically stands on its own, and then you loving wrap yourself around it, pulling it tight. Site the target dead nutts center... and put your finger on the trigger. Inhale. Exhale... and now comes the important part.


I know you see it on TV. The headset says "CLEAR!" and the sniper jerks the trigger and the bad guy dies. That's the thing about TV. It ain't real. You NEVER jerk a trigger. Done correctly, you should be suprised when the trigger breaks.

But how do you accomplish that? Lets back up. We've inhaled... We've exhaled... our finger rests on the trigger...

Now imagine you're going to take the finger thats on the trigger... and bring the tip towards your nose. You gradually increase the pressure. A tiny bit of pressure at first. Now a little more... now a little more... a li**BANG**

See what I mean?

You should not know when the weapon will fire.

Shooting a high-caliber rifle at 100 yards is a joke. Those 1 inch groups I spoke of in the begining are just that... a starting place. If the rifle doesn't do that out-of-the-box... the rifle goes back in that box and back to the jerk who attempted to curse me with it.

A good rifle shoots 1 hole at 100 yards... in fact... it does 1 hole at 300 yards too. At 300 yards I don't shoot human silohettes. I shoot little life sized varmint targets... and then, only head shots suffice.

If I was going to shoot a human silohette... I'd want at least 500 yards... otherwise it wouldn't even be worth my time.

Here is some quick-hit advice:

- Spend at least half as much money on your optics as you do on your rifle. I recommend spending the same amount.
- The short magnums deserve the hype they get. Look at them hard.
- 300 win mag and up for serious long range shooting.
- Remington 700's look cheap. Buy one if you must, but know that JAC and I are going to make fun of you.
- Reliability and Accuracy are not mutually exclusive. Demand both.
- There is no such thing as an unloaded weapon.
- Never point a firearm at anything you don't intend to destroy.

We'll cover pistols sometime soon. Questions in the comments section please. I haven't setup my new email address yet.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Nuke Them Already

I read this... and I boil with fury... and I wonder... Why in God's name we allow these dispicable people to live. Oh for a couple of well placed Titan II's.
Bad Joke Wednesday

Do you want to hear the story about the broken pencil?


Oh well... There's no point to it, anyway.
ThreeWay Butt Kickin'

JACIII is taking names over at his place. This little gem should come with a warning sticker. "Baby Boomers Beware". If you like my stuff, you really should check him out. Its like reading my stuff... without so many spelling errors.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Why The Oscars Suck

Going beyond the fact that it is one more award show. Going beyond the obnoxious self-important ritual of Hollywood patting itself on the back... The most infuriating thing about the Oscars is the fact that the right movie never wins. Ok... sometimes it does... but not often enough to make it a statisicly significant event. Anyone can win the lottery.

Lets take a second... just to demonstrate the vast and seemingly infinite stupidity of the Academy.

1960: The Apartment beat Psycho. I have no words. Psycho wasn't even nominated.
1961: West Side Story beat The Hustler, and Breakfast at Tiffany's wasn't even nominated.
1962: Lawrence of Arabia beat To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Manchurian Candidate wasn't even nominated.

Skipping a bit...

1968: Oliver! wins... 2001: A Space Odyssey isn't even nominated. Morons.
1974: Godfather II wins... and Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail isn't nominated.
1977: Annie Hall wins. Who the hell is Annie Hall? A woody Allen wetdream wins? Hello! Anyone remember a little film name STAR WARS??? GAH!
1979: Kramer vs Kramer. This beat Apocalypse Now. I could write a whole post on just this one attrocity.
1980: Ordinary People wins. Empire Strikes Back isnt nominated. One of the greatest sports movies of all time "Raging Bull" doesn't win. Insane.
1982: Blade Runner isn't nominated. Blade Runner... one of the best movies ever made. Not nominated... Ghandi.. a film no one has watched since 1983, wins.
1983: Terms of Endearment won. I don't care who it beat. It doesnt matter. If a man photo'd a piece of crap, and projected it onto a small screen somewhere in sweden, it should've beaten this pathetic piece of trash. The fact that this movie was even nominated for anything beyond "Crappiest Crap Ever" is beyond my understanding.

Skipping a bit more

1996: The English Patient... which I have it on good authority was seen by at least 14 people... beat Sling Blade, which wasn't even nominated.
1997: The worst movie in the history of film wins. Titanic.
1998: Following up on the Darkest Day of the Oscars... they make things even worse... When Shakespear in Love of all things... defeats Saving Private Ryan. I want ya to think about that for a while. Do you know anyone who even remembers that trash?
1999: And just to make sure things keep going downhill... how about a film about a pathetic drug using pedaphile? American Beauty wins. If you liked that movie... I want to choke you.
2001: A Beautiful Mind... a love story.. about the marriage.. of a man who in real life was actually a homosexual, and his wife utterly hated him. The point of this flick was "Insane people aren't actually crazy. They're just sad." BAH! This beat Fellowship of the Ring people!!!

Ok.. that's all the pop culture I can stomach. I hate the academy awards. It makes me sick. The only thing about it that bothers me more, is that fact that so many people inexplicably give a damn.
An Open Can of Worms

This will demonstrate just how few liberals actually think about their actions. Watch as the liberal talking heads scurry to embrace this company's right to fire workers who smoke. Even when the workers only smoke on their own time.

Yes... The liberals are now advocating a company's right to fire employees... based on behavior. The reason they are offering, is that the behavior in question raises the cost of insurance.

Wonder what their gonna say when it's pointed out that homosexuality is a behavior, and it also irrefutably raises the cost of insurance, even more so than smoking.

If they are wise, they'll sweep this under the rug and pray to thier Goddess that it goes away quietly.

Of course, if they were wise, they wouldn't be liberals.

Monday, January 24, 2005


The current administration would have us believe that all men long for freedom. This simply isn't true. Men seek security. They seek rules, and ritual, and regulation. They seek these rules and regulations not to keep them from harm, or to prevent them from harming others, but to allow them to feel secure in the decisions they make.

Is 60mph to fast for this road? Well.... the speed limit is 65... So I'm ok.

Is it ok to park on the street? It is ok, because I have a permit!

Is it ok to carry a gun? It is! I have a permit!

Is it ok to travel outside my country? It is! I have a passport!

Laugh all you want, but most people cannot make decisions without the security a framework of guidelines and rules provides. This is why people cannot think outside the box. Because its the box that allows them to think.

Outside the box, people freeze. They wildly search for someone to build them a new box... and all to often, Evil is there to provide exactly that. Think I am mistook? Experiment. Tell someone he can do anything he wants... or go anywhere he wants... no rules. Watch... and see the panic.

We see this as well, in our children. They need guidlines to aid their decision making. The purpose of classic education was to defeat this, and open the child to new ideas and creative thinking.

The world has abandoned this process. Increasingly children's creative thinking is funnelled into useless endevours where it flounders... safely removed from the rest of the world. Sheep are created from humans.

Or perhaps its actually backwards. Perhaps its the classical education that was developed to make humans from sheep... and now we're just returning to our natural state of bootlicking euphoria.

Our pained experiments with spreading democracy... which should never be confused with spreading freedom... are doomed even still. They are doomed by the image democracy itself projects...

While democracy is nothing more benevolent than two wolves and a sheep about to vote on what's for dinner, it brings with it all the insecurities associated with freedom. Those insecurities... who will lead us? What will happen to us?

That is the crux of the matter.

The majority thinks only of what will happen... The minority thinks only of what must be done.
Recycling is a Waste

Not only do I not recycle, I actively attempt to prevent others from recycling. I am tempted every week to take my neighbors recycling bins and empty them into my garbage cans. I've not yet done so... but that doesn't mean I won't do it eventually.


Because recycling is wasteful.

How can that be you ask? Raw materials are not the whole of the equation says I. Recycling is a process by which the old is made new. All processes have costs. Recycling costs a lot.

New Aluminum is cheaper than recycled aluminum.

New paper is cheaper than recycled paper.

There is virtually no new product in the world that is more expensive than its recycled counterpart.

It doesn't do us any good to reuse some aluminum, if we have to burn significantly more coal to recycle it. It doesn't do us any good to recycle paper, if it cost less in oil, gas, and electricity, to simple grow and process more trees.

We now have 40% more garbage trucks in many areas... because the same trucks that process and carry trash, cannot be used to carry plastic, paper, and glass to the recycling sites. That's more gas. That's more air pollution.

It looks like you're doing some good. It gives you a do-gooder buzz. But... as is the way of most liberal activities...

It harms that which it is aimed at helping.

Be Green. Don't Recycle.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

They Do Learn Quick

I've said before... Jeb doesn't watch a lot of TV. I'm sure that's no suprise. Mostly he's just not interested. There are other things to play with, including Daddy.

This morning though he brought me his Clifford DVD. Fair enough. He wanted to watch, I didn't mind. So I set it up and got it going... and I figured I'd take the opportunity to clean up a little.

15 minutes or so go by and as I'm walkin' past the door to the living room I hear Dora. Now that ain't right. I put in Clifford.

So I walk in, and find Jeb watching his Dora DVD, and the Clifford DVD is sitting on the case of DVDs!

Maybe it's me... but something is a little suprising about a 2 year old who can follow that many steps to get what he wants.

Hell... I've never shown him how to do it... and it took 3 months and 3 different lessons for my dad to learn how to use a DVD player!
The Damned Snake: Part II

I suppose at least some of you have to be wondering if that post on the morality of women was just mental masturbation. Nothing more than my typing for the sheer pleasure of reading my own words.

It was not.

I tell you that... to tell you this.

Repair starts with us. It is our responsibility. Adam did not stand up to the snake. Adam did not defend Eve, or his Lord, or Himself.Men have failed their women, and their God time and time and time again. Frankly, its high time we stop failing.

Its time for the men of the world to step up to the plate.

I'm not talking about Pie in the Sky hopes of Heaven on Earth. But there are certain battles we can pick, and win. The Abomination of Abortion must be ended. It will not be done by women. It will be done by us. We dropped the ball in the first place. Its up to us to pick it up.

And yes... I am aware that there are those out there who would claim that we didn't drop the ball. Who would claim that the women in fact took the ball from us and threw it.

To you I say...

What kinda sissy lets a little girl take his ball? Now stop whining and go get it.

Its popular for folks to talk about the world they are leaving for their kids, and the work they feel we should do now, so that our kids don't have too.

There is a flip side to that... a truism to its sillyness...

Our Fathers, and Grandfathers, and Great-Grandfathers failed miserably. They took the easy road. They stuck there heads in the sand.

We are the children who have been left this work. We can stand up, and start doing it, and or we continue down the easy road. Ask any Freeclimber... Going up takes a great deal more effort than going down. The trouble with going down, is the ending.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Winter Hell

So much for our snow. Instead we've been granted the most damnable weather in all the world. Somehow, it's 25 degrees.... and raining?

Can ya explain that to me? Yeah.. anyone wanna think about what this is gonna be like in a few hours?

Which leads me to...

I've noted some snickering from the peanut-gallery about the trouble down in North Carolina. Hyuck Hyuck Hyuck.. look at those dumb southerners... can't drive on an inch of snow.

I also note that such an attitude is common among those who've never lived in the mid-south.

Let me clear some things up. We absolutely can drive on snow. Unfortunately we don't get snow. We get what Morgantown is about to have. We get ice. Everywhere. Coating everything.

You're driving on wet roads one minute... and literally seconds later... you're on ice. Flash Freeze. Death trap.

West Virginia is far colder than Nashville, but the driving conditions in Nashville are much worse. Before the salt trucks come out in Morgantown, I drive around just fine. You don't dare go out in Nashville... why? Because driving in snow ain't a big deal.

Driving on ice is.
Women, Civilization, Duty, Honor, and that Damned Snake

I'm known to occasionally drop a bomb in a comment section, just to see the reaction. Sometimes its done in the noble name of chain jerking, but usually there is a different goal. I like to use that tactic to test the waters. I like to see who I'm going to be up against and what the prevelant arguements are before I post. Less strategery, more tactics. You know... sort of the opposite of Dubya.

So what did I learn? Well... first off, this is the second time I've dropped this particular bomb and each time I've caught Spacebunny's attention... and while that is never a bad thing... it certainly is a red flag. We don't take on SB lightly. No no... we carefully line up our ducks before wading into such a battle.

Well... it's about time get to the point ain't it?

Now... to insure that we don't end up with a large group of pretty silk panties wadded up, and believe me, a man with a harem has to be worried about such things, let me first state that I do not believe that women are incapable of morality. I also believe that women are capable of duty, in the sense of "there is a job that must be done, so I will do it", they almost always recognize Honor immediatey when they see it, but are mostly unable to predict it.

What I am attempting to describe are tendencies. Women are more likely to be this way, men that way. I am not making blanket statements regarding all women or men. Dig?

So here it is... Women, as a group, have an under-developed sense of morality, compared to men. They have an over-developed sense of nice and not-nice, but because of the lack of moral clarity, it's disregarded at the drop of a purse.

Popular is the claim that women civilize men. As Spacebunny already noted, this will greatly depend on one's definition of "civilize". If you deem civilization to mean, "Being nice to each other", as Mr Webster (Yankee Bastard) does, then yes... women do in fact know a great deal about it. However, if you are refering to the law and order... moral center... right and wrong that hold society... civilization... together then women know approximatey nothing about it, as a group anyway.

Is abortion more popular among women.... or men?

Of course women will point out that men aren't the ones carrying the baby.... all good and well, except that men have a vested interest.... in the form of child support... in seeing that baby not born. Yet... men support abortion less. Why?

Simple. Abortion is a great example of Nice/Not Nice vs. Right/Wrong. Its not nice to require make a women suffer the consequences for her actions. It could change her whole life! It's not fair!

Civilization require order, and system. They do not require Nice. The vikings were without question a great civilization, as were the Aztecs. Neither could be considered nice.

Now on to modern times. Take a modern office, and populate with an all female staff. What's the result? I suspect anyone with even the slightest grip on reality will predict total cat-fight doom in a matter of months.

Now take the same office, and sprinkly in a man here and there. Bingo. Office now runs smoothly. Contrast this, with the proven fact that men function far more efficiently in groups devoid of women entirely. Who exactly is civilizing who here?

Don't buy it? There are American corporations that have written policies forbiding all female offices, one of which is World Finance. There are others as well. Now see what I'm getting at? Nice vs Not Nice, but... it's easily disregarded when the time comes, because the moral center is under-developed.

Why did the Snake go to Eve, and not Adam? Why did the KGB focus on the women of America, and not the men? Simple, because Communism, and Apples are Nice... and right or wrong never enter into it.

So is this to say that women aren't moral?

Hardy. DrWho is far to moral for my taste!

What I'm saying basicly boils down to: Women are less likely to have strongly held views of right and wrong than men. Their views are more often subject to change based on emotional circumstances. Women are far more easiy corrupted... and many need no corrupting at all. With them, right and wrong, is far more fluid than with men. Men violate the rules... perhaps even more often than women... the difference is, that the men who break the rules do so knowingly, while women will spout circumstances and make excuses... literally convincing themselves that what they did was "right". Again... this is not to say that men don't do the same... Women are just more likely. Remember... You are far more likey to find a man with a haunted conscience than a woman. In fact... I can't think of a single literary female characterized as such. Whenever we think of a brooding character, wracked with guilt... that character is always male.

I wonder why?

Now that I am deeply in trouble with my beloved harem... I'll leave you with this... There are many great moral women out there... and among them I would count the women reading this.

Honor, Duty, and Right and Wrong are male institutions. Ediquatte and Fairness; they are what women bring to the table.

And that boys and girls, is why men are head of the household. That we may execute things with a clear moral vision, while being tempered with the fairness, and niceness of female input.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Light 'em Up Baby!

It's Friday at 8:00. Jeb's in the bed... and ya know what that means? That's right.... It's time for Mr Bourbon to come out for a.... little visit. I aim to finish my woodford's and my Old Forrester... and if I am still up and able... I'll polish off the Maker's Mark too... After all... a man wants to keep his liquor cabnit balanced!

I wish y'all could see my Vice Cabnit... It's actually an antique china cabnit from my wife's grand mother... There's some irony... as the woman was a "good Church of Christ woman". Inequity in any form was not tolerated.

I smile now as I think of it... her nice china cabnit... now prominately displaying my bourbon, cigars, and pipes. It's all very classy to tell you the truth. If I ever get the picture thing going... I'll post a pic. The more I think of it... the interior of my house looks exactly like you think it would. Bourbon prominantly displayed... and The South Was Right sitting on the coffee table.

Friday posting rules apply. Whatcha drinkin'... oh.. and for tonight... who're ya drinkin' with? Me? Hehe.. I drink alone.
Old Habits Die Hard

Weathman says we're 'posed to get betwix 6 and 12 inches o' snow tween now and Sunday. Hearing this of course, the first thing I did was throw Jeb in the truck and head to the grocery. I'm from the South. It's what we do. It doesn't matter if we have everything we need at home. When the Man says "snow" your presence is expected at the local grocery store. You buy milk, and bread, and talk to folks about the coming blizzard. Normally crowds drive me insane, but today... I didn't mind standing in insane lines... I didn't mind people bumping into each other or over crowded isles. It's just all part of it.

There are a couple more posts coming tonight... I have to handle some issues here with this "women judging men" bidness... and then of course... the Obligatory Friday Drinkin' Post...

Then again... we may just blow all the serious stuff off and talk about booze, guns, sex... or hopefully... the combination there-of.
"Male" Movements

You've seen them. You may even know someone who's involved in one of them. Promise Keepers.... Primitivism... or the more recent "Wild at Heart" movement. Clearly middle-aged men are searching for something. Depression is rampant among them... and how could it not be? While guys like JAC and I will get a good laugh at the expense of the poor saps that involve themselves in this sort of thing... Lets take a second to look at some of these movements...

Promise Keepers: This is by far my favorite. A bunch of guys get together in some city or another, and hang with other guys... who don't beat their wives. Do what? You actually need a support group to keep you from slappin' the old lady around? I mean... granted... maybe you married poorly. Heaven knows if I had married Barbara Boxer no support group in the world could keep me from slappin' her silly on a daily basis. A guy I worked with in Memphis belonged to Promise Keepers... I used to harass him about it all the time. I loved nudge him and ask... "So... you go off for the weekend retreat at these different cities... you know... sounds like an excellent alibi for an affair to me."

Wild at Heart: I've not read the book. I doubt seriously one has to read it to know what it's about. WND had a bit on it today. The thing that struck me about this... is some women react to it. Women will hear of a movement like this... and the first thing they think is, "How does this affect me?" That's sort of funny isn't it... considering it's not a women's movement?

Even the author of Wild at Heart acknowledges that the movement's effect on women will ultimately determine its success... I see...

So... you create something to help men... but its only a success if women like it.

Perhaps middle-aged men wouldn't be so depressed, if women weren't so self-absorbed.

Oh... and any of you guys out there searching for something? Buy a motorcycle.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Bad Joke Wednesday: Late Edition

When Noah built his ark, he had two snakes aboard. When the animals were leaving, he said, "Go forth and multiply."
The snakes didn't move.
"Go forth and multiply!"
They still didn't move.
Noah was yelling by now. "
Go forth and multiply!" "We can't," they answered.
Noah was confused. "Why not?"

"We're adders."

And since I as late gettin' this posted... I offer you a Bonus Bad Joke! No Charge!

Why are manhole covers round?

Because if they were square, you couldn't play twiddlywinks with them.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Books for Kids

Everyone can find books for babies. Though... finding books that don't make you want to tear your eyes out so you won't have to read them anymore is a little more challenging. JAC still flinches anytime someone mentions the Foot Book.

For those with little ones I strongly suggest the Pigeon Books. What? You don't know about the Pigeon Books? HOLY CRAP! There are 2 books... "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus", and "The Pigeon Finds a Hotdog". They're hilarious.

Now... For you with older kids... I say skip the who ha out today, and find what you read when you were growing up. Other than that... Better go with the classics. Arabian Nights is an excellent starting point.
Nate Mail

Our beloved Spacebunny emails:

Does anyone else see the irony of this headline from WND?
"Planned Parenthood sued for racism"

Of course darlin'. This sorta ties in with the hate crime laws. Racism is worse than murder. Facilitating the deaths of millions of babies is fine, but done you dare hire to many white folks.

Racism is the public enemy number 1 as far as the thought police are conserned. Rememeber... in America there are certain ideals that everyone must hold dear. God help you if you don't.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Wait a Minute...

So we can seal off Iraq's borders... we just can't seal our own. This whole war reaks of politics. If sealing off the borders was an option, why wasn't it done a year ago? We're fighting mercenaries from Syria and Iran. We're not fighting Iraqis. It don't take a geneous to figure out that closing the borders might be a good idea.

America is fighting this "war" with kid gloves. You know how you can tell?

We haven't heard "Carpet Bombing" one time. God I love that way that sounds... Carpet Bombing.... gives me wood..


We ain't doing it. Why?

Because we ain't fightin' a war.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Adolph Rupp Was Right

You know... if we'd listened to Rupp back in the 50's, we could still be enjoying the game of basketball today. Instead... we got streetball...

I hate watching brothas play basketball... with their baggy shorts 27 sizes to big... You get 1 pass, then it's a shot. They drive to the basket and try to put up some ugly trick shot that they made one damn time in their whole life... but it went in that once... so from now, until their 50 they'll be throwin' the ball over their head with their weak hand... Spare me.

I'm standing in the University Rec Center... watching... appauled... it's 5 on 5... full court... 8 black guys... 2 white.

I can call the action before it happens. white boy brings the ball up the court... of course.. this is only allowed because the white boy stole the ball on D. Black folks never miss an opportunity to strut up the court and pose for the ladies...

White boy has eyes. He sees a back door cut developing, but it's two passes away. He makes the first pass to a dude out on the wing... there's the cut... but the winger? He ain't looking for to pass. He ignores the wide open cutter slashing to the basket, and drives on his own through two guys. Of course he loses the ball...

Back down the court we go for some ole' defense. 1 pass... one bad shot... happens to go in... big deal.

The boys have run up and down the court 4 times now... and these ripped up muscle boys are grabbin' their shorts. Funny... They don't look out of shape... course... looks all that matters right?

What's that? Fast break.. two passes! Easy layup! Brilliant! Ball goes all the way down the court without touching the ground! Oh.. of course... white boy passes to white boy.. who passes to the black dude who never bothered to run down and play D... Figures.

What's the difference between this and the NBA? I see Reggie Miller blowing Free Throws. I see easy 6 footers passed up for the opportunity to attempt some circus shot... or... missed entirely...

I miss basketball.
Stupid Teachers...

I wonder how common it is for advanced kids to be held back by teachers who are to stupid to realize what's going on...

I went to school in Kentucky... at least up until High School when I moved to Nashville. Back then, Kentucky had "achievement tests" that every kid in 1-12 took at the end of every year to determine their progress.

Now in the 6th grade.. you can imagine that I didn't really grasp the whole concept of test taking. I generally felt like the teachers knew me... and knew what I was capable of. And well... This is the story of how Nate found out just how stupid government school teachers are.

First some background. As you can well imagine... I wasn't the slowest kid in the class. In fact, I was insanely bored in school, most of my in class time was spent reading fiction, non-fiction, or drawing... On the occasion that I had a teacher that would object to these things, I would make it evident that I knew as much or more about the appointed subject as he/she/it did. I would point out blatant mistakes in text books, I would refuse to regurgitate verbatim dictionary definitions on vocabulary tests.. and on occasion I would throw words at the teacher and explain that they needed to study up some as well.

Most teachers quickly learned that I was better off left to read on my own.

I never studied... and I rarely did homework. My reasoning for this was simple. I knew the material. Therefore I didn't need the practice. My time was better spent elsewhere.

I was in the highest level classes for my age group... and I was bored out of my mind.

In my sixth grade english class we were required to do a book report... I don't recall the drivel that my classmates were reporting on... No doubt it was something like Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys... Either way... I wrote an essay on MacBeth, and delivered an oratory on it that had the class and teach laughing so hard, a teacher from across the hall came in to make sure we hadn't been left unattended.

In another memorable moment, I openly debated my algebra teacher about imaginary numbers and they're significance.

See.. this is the trouble with having brothers 4 and 8 years older than you are. You aren't interested in the things that you should be learning. You're interested in what they're learning.. and sometimes the bastards teach it to you.

Anyway... this was all compounded by the fact that I have a seeing disorder that makes bubble tests confounding.

I tell you all that... to tell you this...

At the end of the sixth grade... I took my achievment tests like a good little sheep. I finished the reading section.... mind you it was a timed test... 1 hour... I finished it in 15 minutes. When I got to the end though.. I found I had one more question than I had place to answer...

Uh oh. I thought... I could go back and fix it... but why? This test is stupid, and everyone knows I can read.

So I set about to busy myself... well... that's not really true... actually I took a nap.

The next year... I am informed that I have been placed in remedial reading. I laughed. In fact, I was happy as I could be. If I'm already bored, I may as well have some freetime right? In this remedial reading class we had to "read" 3 "books" per 6 weeks. These books amounted to Hop-on-Pop. And get this... The teacher who was teaching the remedial reading class? The same teacher who taught me in Honors 6th grade reading, who had laughed out loud at my Macbeth report, and who had told my mom that I was among the brightest kids she'd ever had.

Did this teacher think it odd that I was there? Nope.

On the first day, after hearing the "requirements" I laughed out loud and asked... "If I read them all today, and turn in a report on each... does that mean I'm free for the rest of the month?"

She said yes.

So I did just that...

And after finishing reading the 3 little books and writing up a book report on each... I went back to reading "Mythology".

Well.. as happy as I was with these arrangements... My Mom was less than thrilled.

She came to the school and raised 7 kinds of Hell. Eventually she learned that I had missed practicly every question on the achievement test. She couldn't believe it... so she demanded to see the test. After a time it was produced, and what had happened became quite clear. I had put the answer for question 5 on the line for answer 6 and so on. The whole test was 1 line off. Comparing the test with an answer key showed that in fact, I had a perfect score... if you moved it all up one line.

Confronted with this... and the fact that the teachers had previously given me A's in Gifted and Talented reading programs... The school....

did nothing.

The test score was all that mattered.

Eventually my mom convinced them to allow me to take a battery of oral exams at a local university. Only when confronted with different test scores... including reading and vocabulary scores that were in the 100th percentile of the entire nation... (100th... not 99th) only then was I allowed back into the system.

Ya think I'm sending Jeb through that?
To Good To Be True.

This is one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. If that doesn't put a smile on your face, I don't know what will. On Air gaffs like that just kill me. I'd pay great sums of cash for a tape of that. Can you imagine? "Have a Happy Martin Luther Coon.... umm.. King Jr Day."

I Have a Dream

80% of white students passed the California Basic Eductaion Skills Test the first time they took it. Compared to 30% of black students.

The illegitimacy rate among blacks is now 70%

Between 1976 and 2000, over 50 percent of all homicides in the United States were committed by blacks, and 94 percent of the time, the victim was black.

The average black high-school graduate has an academic achievement level on par with that of a white seventh- or eighth-grader.


I have dream...

I have a dream that one day the Black Community will one day take responsibility for its own failures.

Sunday, January 16, 2005


Today Dixie's puppies were born! 6 beautiful black labs. It's strange... Cas is chocolate... Dixie is yellow... and all of there puppies.... three litters.... every one... has been black. Recessive genes eh?

Anyway... If any of you know someone looking for a no-shit honest to goodest prettiest lab you've ever seen... and I mean these dogs should be on calendars... let me know. In a couple days I'll have the puppy page up complete with pictures of Cas and Dixie, this litter, and previous litters... I'll probly even put up a could testimonials from previous buyers.

The females are gonna be around 60-80 pounds. The males will be 90 -110. They come from the Bodacious line. That's a famous field line if ya don't know.


Ummm... Make that 7. 4 pretty little girls. 3 big boys.

Friday, January 14, 2005


Well... I know I have a long tradition of Friday Drinkin' Posts... but this week we have more of a reason than usual. See... Kristy called early in the week. We had worked out some plans and she was gonna drive up tonight and spend the three day weekend with us. We got our hopes up... and... well.. let's just say we're gettin' used to disappointment. Kristy IM'd me today and said something came up and she was gonna have to work on Sunday. Does that suck or what? I can't imagine workin' at a job where you plan on having time off, only to lose it at the last second? I couldn't do it. I'd tell them to kiss my ass.

Guess that's why I never had a job like that huh?

Ah well... Sorry ya missed us Kristy. Julie was really lookin' forward to it... and obviously me and Jeb were too. Maybe next time.

Standard Friday night rules apply.

Woodford Reserve. Straight.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Wonder Lust

JAC waxes poetic over at ThreeWay:

Take a week, take TWO. Grab a buddy or a brother, hell even a wife. Don't schedule anything, pick a general direction or something to see; climb on, fire it up, point the front wheel toward the sun and go! We'll get there when we get there. Eat only at mom and pop resturants, say 'howdy' to folks, sleep at "motor inns", stop in a town square at sunset - sit on a bench in leathers and a wifebeater with helmethair next to the bike under a statue of a Confederate hero staring ever vigilant...... northward lest they try again.

I know that feelin'. Few things make me feel alive like the open road. Theres just something about not knowing.

I don't know when we're going brother. I just know... at some point this summer... we're going.
To Vandy Fans, With Love

Vanderbilt has never beaten Kentucky in Rupp Arena. Never. 1975 - 2005. No wins.

Year Score
1975 109-84
1976 77-76
1977 113-73
1978 72-59
1979 96-70
1980 106-90
1981 80-48
1982 67-58
1983 82-63
1984 67-46
1985 75-58
1986 73-65
1987 65-54
1988 81-74
1989 70-61
1990 100-73
1991 58-50
1992 80-56
1993 82-67
1994 107-82
1995 81-68
1996 101-63
1998 71-62
1999 88-63
2000 72-52
2001 86-75
2002 67-59
2003 106-44
2004 75-63
2005 69-54

Why Vehicles Are Female

Our beloved Spacebunny comments: I thought ships, trucks and vehicles in general were female.

Quite right. They are indeed. It all stems from the fact that we american males love our toys. I don't mean we enjoy them. I mean we love them. We dote on them. We've been accused of treating them better than we treat our wives. But given the modern female worldview... Can ya blame us?

See... it would be very uncomfortable for us to speak lovingly about... "John"... however, it's perfectly natural for us to talk about how much we love "Christine". Dig?

Now this brings up the whole topic of picking a name for your vehicle, and like all other masculine practices, there is a fairly loose protocol. Not so much rules mind you, but classifications. You don't get kicked out of the Boy Club if you don't use them, but we'll certainly laugh at you.

1) Sport cars and roadsters get stripper names.

2) New trucks get common female names. It's becoming increasingly acceptable to give your truck a good old-fashion dog's name too. Some traditionalist will scoff though.

3) Old reliab trucks get bizarre old feminine names... for example, a 1960 chevy... painted Orange and rattle can Maroon.... would be called Lula-Belle.

4) Motorcycles mind you are a totally different story. They don't get girl names. They get horse names. I think that's self explanitory.

5) Boat names require an entire post.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

I've seen it all

Someone please explain this to me. Please.
Bad Joke Wednesday

Back in the African bush lives a tribe with some bizarre customs. For example, There king is always presented with a new throne on his birthday. He accepts his new thrown at a huge party.

Now understand... this was a wealthy king... as he had a 2-story grass hut. That was fortunate, because it allowed him to keep all of his retired thrones up on the second floor.

So at last it was the kings 60th birthday, and there was great fest! There was roast beast! There was Dancin'! A fine time was had by all... and that night the whole village gathered in the King's hut to see his new thrown...

And then the second floor collapsed killing everyone.

The moral?

People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
Full-Auto Myths

Few things in this world are less understood by the general public than firearms. In fact, most of the "truths" out there that the general public takes for granted are entirely false. So how about we tackle a few?

Assault Weapons are all Automatic: This is of course false, as the legal definition for the word "assault rifle" is in fact entirely based on cosmetics. Put a bayonet lug and a pistol grip on a bolt action rifle and it would suddenly fit the bill too.

It's illegal to own automatic weapons: False. All you need is a class III "license". In fact, you can own all the full auto weapons you want, you just have to make sure you aren't "stockpiling" ammo.

Semi-auto's must be purposefully modified to make them full-auto: I love that one. Listen up... Full auto is the natural state of any blowback weapon. The trigger releases a spring, which drops the hammer which fires the round, which blows the slide back, which recompresses the spring... so if the trigger is still held... there isn't anything to stop the hammer from dropping again. Get it? You have to alter the design to make it semi-auto... and sometimes, weapons simply malfunction and go full-auto on their own. The ATF has been known to take people to court over these malfunctions, claiming that they modified the weapons themselves. Of course, the ATF has also been humilated in court a number of times.

The Class III is actually a licence: In fact it's not a licence at all. It's a tax. You pay the Feds 300 bucks everytime you want to buy a new automatic weapon. That's it. That's all it boils down to. Well... there's also that bit about giving up your Fourth Amendment rights... Interestingly it was that same 300 bucks that the ATF was going to WACO to collect.

Criminals use automatic weapons: This is a true howler. More people died in incidents involving toilet bowls in 1993 than with any of the weapons banned in 1994. It's interesting that in the early 90's we heard about all the criminal use of expensive auto's... then in the late 90's, we heard that criminals actually used cheap small caliber pistols like Star and Jennings. Criminals use what they can steal, and they steal what's common and available. You don't see them with auto's because auto's are very rare, and well... very secure. If criminal has one, chances are he stole it from a cop.

Weapons bans work: Of course they do. I find it remarkable that liberals will often site the easy availability of "deadly ammunition" like Ralphies, as a reason to ban guns. However, they never seem smart enough to recognize that Ralphies are themselves illegal. So if the ban doesn't effect specialized ammo, why would it effect firearms? See what happens when you are trained to not think?

Oh.. and one last one for all you Republicans out there...

Gun bans won't work, but drug bans will: There ya go girls. Quit whining and take it like a man. You constantly make arguments that banning firearms will result in even more criminal activity with guns, yet you then turn around an argue that drug bans will work. The "War on Drugs" is a BS excuse to take your rights. I can only conclude that it wasn't working as fast as intended, so we needed this new "War on Terrorism" to speed things along. It's hard to argue with the results.

I can't wait till I'm 80... By then we'll all know how history has judged this generations leaders. Someday I'm gonna be able to use my arthritic fingers to type:

HAHA Bill! I told ya so!

Tuesday, January 11, 2005


***Thuck Thuck Thuck***

Hear that? That's the sound of the last nails being hammered into the coffin kids. Governor Bredeson pussed out. These cuts may seem nice, but there's no way they be deep enough to really affect our immediate future in Tennessee. Just ain't gonna happen.

So where does that leave us? I've raised my son 10 hours away from his grandparents, and frankly I'm sick of it. I'm sick of every vacation being spent trolling off to see the family.

True... we could suck it up, take the pay cut, and move to Tennessee anyway. But then, if I gave you 100 grand to move 100 miles south... would you? Yeah... I thought so.

Georgia... Alabama... Asheville maybe?

Either way, somehow I'm gonna have to convince my parents to move with us.

In the year 2005 I resolve to:
Make the FBIs most wanted list.

Get your resolution here.

Monday, January 10, 2005

The New Moon

All over the country sports figures are wringing their hands and talking about the integrity of the game... all over the Moon That Wasn't. Heaven forbid.

Unwad thy panties I say!

These same people talk in hushed tones of the great teams that came before... the 72 Dolphins... the 85 Bears...

Wait a second... The 85 Bears?

If any team is responsible for removing integrity from the game, it's them. Doubt it? Perhaps you should dust off a copy of the Superbowl Shuffle and see for yourself. Oh... and while we're talking about moons... If I recall, the week before the 85 Superbowl... there was a hubub about McMahon's back... and some rumored accupuncture... Jim of course knew all this. He was eating it up. Reporters had even procured a helicopter to try to get a look at him during practice.

Jim McMahon mooned that copter. Not a Faux moon. The real deal. Knowing Jim, he probably even spread his cheeks and winked.

Football is a game of characters. Guys of today like T.O. and Randy Moss are no different than Jim McMahon. The NFL has been taking itself way to seriously the last decade or so, and it needs to get past it.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

Yankees Cain't Shoot

So I'm minding my own bidness tonight when I get a frantic call from JAC. Apparently he was off at some resturant and got a teaser from some hit piece that either 20/20 or 60 minutes was doing on the big .50 BMG.

I watched... mostly out of morbid curiousity... I love seeing the media demonstrate their ignorance.

Imagine my joy when they show footage of a shooting range! Excellent! Apparently the Chief of Police in NYC is a gun grabber... go figure... and he doesn't like the .50. Well he likes it... as long as its his boys firing it.

To demonstrate the power of this weapon... they set 2 half-inch steel targets 300 yards out. 300 yards? For a .50? Are you kiddin'?

But hold on... it gets better! They have a swat team sniper from NYC at the range to aid with the demo. Excellent.

So he first fires three rounds from his "Thirty-caliber" rifle. .308? 300 win. mag? We aren't told. But I digress... So our "elite" yankee "sniper" jerks the trigger like some rookie kid playin' Wild Bill... and at just 300 yards, manages to produce an utterly pathetic 6 inch group. This is a professional?

Oh wait.. it gets better...

So now we move to the .50.... and with this super deadly weapon... he shoots 3 shots... that are about 2 feet apart.


At 2000 yards that wouldn't even be acceptable!

Of course the whole point was to terrify sheeple about the big bad .50 BMG. They even insinuated you could shoot planes out of the sky with it.

Of course... I don't know how this could be possible... when the gun obviously isn't accurate at all.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Saturday's Wildcard Picks

Seattle over the Rams: Turnovers finally cost the Rams.
San Diego over the Jets: Tomlinson trumps Martin.


Or not.

Friday, January 07, 2005

Obligatory Friday Post

Well... It's 1792 Ridgemont Reserve for me. Fine sippin bourbon.

So how bout it? What are y'all drinkin tonight?
The Fiery Gizzard

Preparedness is a Learned Behavior.

Down in south central Tennessee... tucked way up on Mont Eagle is the Cumberland Recreation Area. It's not really a wildlife managment area... and it's not really a state park... it's sorta something in between. At any rate... that's where you'll find what many call the toughest hiking trail in Tennessee... the Fiery Gizzard trail... and that's where the tale I'm about to unfold starts... sort of.

You Regulators know that Julie and I... well... we have a propencity to gettin' ourselves into some tight spots... Particularly in our younger days, when we were still courtin'.

One of our favorite weekend passtimes was trekkin' off to some random state park just to see what we could see... and after a while we had hiked most of them and were gettin' a little bored to be honest... imagine our suprise when an old park ranger told us about the Fiery Gizzard. We knew then and there we had to do it.

We really didn't know what to expect to be honest... but we took the matter seriously enough that before we committed actually doing the thing, we'd go scout it out.

The Cumberland Recreation Area is just a short drive down I-24 from Nashville. We were there bright and early on Saturday morning.... well... for us it was bright and early... must've been around 9 or so. It was a gorgeous Tennessee summer day. You know the kind... 95 degrees... 98% humidity... perfection!

We found the parking area.. found a map of the trail... and headed off to see what's what. Now understand... we're just gonna take the trail that leads to the trail. We're not gonna take the trail itself. Follow?

So a quarter-mile and 1 swinging bridge later, there it is. Of course.... we've only hiked a quarter-mile... that's not nearly enough... and the map has some pretty cool land marks on it... Julie gives me that look... and off we go. Hey... we're just going to the first landmark of so.

You know the funny thing about hiking with a pretty girl... You don't really pay to much attention to how far you're goin'. We got in the zone. We were laughing and talking... and kept finding one more thing to hike to. Before long... we found our selves sitting in what the map called "The Fruitbowl". It was sort of a bowl formed out of rock, with huge boulders sitting in it... you know.. like a fruit bowl. Go Figure.

Anyway... the thing is... we were now only another 1/2 mile or so from the coolest part of the whole trail... Raven Rock. It had been an awesome hike... though to be honest it was more like a climb. We'd been boulder hopping at least half of the time... there were streams to ford... fallen logs to walk over... it was heaven!

We were young... and stupid... and well... what's another half mile right?

Well look y'all... first of all.. the Fruitbowl had a stream running through it... so as elevation goes... let me just say that it wasn't what you'd call... high. Now... Raven Rock?? Where do ya reckon that is?

That's right... Up there. Way up there.

The next halfmile was... in the parlance of our times... Hell. Imagine walking up the steepest, slickest, rock infested incline you can think off... that's how we spent the next hour or so. More often using our hands and feet than not.

We finally made it up to the campsite at Raven Rock. We plopped down on a log and caught our breath before we ran down a little path that actually lead to the rock itself.


Raven Rock is like something you see on Roadrunner. It's a huge flat rock, that cantelevers off of an enormous cliff.... 800 feet or more off of the valley below. I have no idea what the true elevation was... I just know that eagles were flying around below us. Its one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

We laid on that rock in the sun... bakin' like snakes. It felt so good. There was a cool breeze... I swear it was Heaven... Then I realized something... well... more like... I felt something...

And that's when it hit us.

We're 7 miles deep... on the toughest trail in Tennessee. It's 2pm... And we have no flashlights... no food... and no water.


We're were only gonna hike the trail that leads to the trail remember?

We made it out obviously... and we made it out a whole lot faster than we made it in. But we were running through the hottest part of the day... and we didn't have the excitement of seeing "one more site" to pull us along. All we had was the grim determination of hunger.

We'd leave the trail every so often to climb up the side of a hill to find some running water to sip. I know... sounds psycho to you city folks, but out there in the middle of no where, that water is as clean as you please. Well... it tasted clean.. and neither of us got sick... good enough for me.

Anyway... we made it out of there alive... believe it or not. When it was all said and done, we'd covered 14-miles of the nastiest terrain in Tennessee... which would put it high in the runnin' for nastiest in all the continental United States... and without provisions. I've never been that tired or that hungry since... well... that's not true.... there was that time when JAC and I crash landed in Vega Texas... to tired to eat, and to hungry to sleep... but that's a tale for another day...

So the Fiery Gizzard y'all. That's what created the psycho ultraprepared freak sittin' here today.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Reason # 82,340,720,139,482 that California Sucks

SAN DIEGO -- A judge in a downtown courtroom sentenced a couple to probation Wednesday for locking the woman's son in the trunk of their car while they celebrated her birthday in a bar.

Wait wait wait... let me make sure I understand this... A couple runs around bar hopping... and locks their kid in the trunk while they do it... and they get... Probation???

Do I really need to expand on this?

And on that note.... I'm off to drink this shit away. To much crap has gone down tonight to think about anything else. God invented Bourbon for nights like this. Praise His Name.

Feel free to express your outrage as you see fit.

Remember Andrea Yates?

Oh sure you do. She's the psycho that drowned her kids in Texas. First of all let me say that I am disappointed in the great state of Texas. I had assumed they had already cooked this well deserving fruitcake.

Turns out, that not only has she not been cooked, she apparently is appealing the case, and her appeals are doing quite well. Brilliant.

Can someone explain to me why they didn't just take this chick out back and shoot her in the head along with her equally insane husband? Are bullets that damned expensive? I've got a couple I'd donate ya know...

At any rate... don't fret. If you recall, they only tried her for three of the murders. If something gets scewed up they can always try her for the other two.

Oh yeah... and one more thing... What the hell is a prosecution witness doing talking about Law and Order on the stand? It's a TV show people!!! GAH!

It's people like this that inspired Texas to add an express lane to Death Row. Let's hope she finds her way to it.
I Just Hate People.

So last night I take Jeb to the mall to let him rip and run and throw some pennies in the fountain. What can I say? When you're 2 years old, the chance to splash around and eat a hot dog is a big deal...

Anyway, we're sittin' in the food court... and I realize the black dude at the next table is talking to himself... loudly... and it was a one sided conversation... That's when I noticed the shiny chrome wireless headset, and the cell phone attached to his hip.


Irritated, I sized this boy up. He was in his 40's... bald... I swear... this cat was going out of his way to embody every negative black stereotype you can think of. He was wearing a black silk jogging suit. Can you explain that to me? A jogging outfit... made of silk? Oh yeah that's classy... But wait... it gets better...

On his right hand alone I count 8 big gold rings.

And as if this all wasn't enough high comedy... I look down to find him wearing a pair of alligator shoes.

Alligator shoes... and a silk jogging suit...

The guy sees me looking at him... we make eye contact... and I'm sorry y'all.. but I just couldn't keep a straight face.. I started to chuckle. As you can imagine that didn't go over well...

So he gets up, and for the first time I realize there is a woman with him... she helps him get his silk jogging jacket on... then he gives me an "eat shit" look as he throws HIS PURSE over his shoulder and struts off.

As soon as I saw him don that purse I lost it. I started laughin' outloud. Jeb even started laughin'. I know the fags in france wear make up and carry purses... so I guess I shoulda known it wouldn't be long before I started seeing it here... anyway...

Needless to say I was having a fine time. Until...

Jeb and I were done and were headin' out through the department store we came in through. While walkin' through, I see Mr Black Eurotrash at a register waiting on his wife to make a purchase... Morbid curiousity struck so I decided to make use of the amazing ease dropping skill I was taught as a wee child (Thanks Mom!).

Turns out she was buying a new leather coat... a nice one... and she paid for it with....

A West Virgina Clothing Voucher.

That's food stamps for clothes for those of you who don't know.

Don't tell me that the stereotype doesn't exist. Don't tell me its an exajurated concoction of the worst of all traights. He's real. I saw him lastnight.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Told Ya

The Patriot Act is a tool necessary for the prosecution of the War on Terror... and fat guys who happen to have no link to terrorism what-so-ever.... From the article:

Federal authorities Tuesday used the Patriot Act to charge a man with pointing a laser beam at an airplane overhead and temporarily blinding the pilot and co-pilot.

The FBI acknowledged the incident had no connection to terrorism but called David Banach's actions "foolhardy and negligent."

So... another example of the Patriot Act being used against US citizens. Wonder if Sir William is gonna eat his words on this one? Not bloody likely. Rest assured, all you'll hear from the peanut gallery is "He was being stupid".

See... its ok for the government to abuse it's power, so long as it does so in a way that the media agrees with...

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Marketing Genius

Harley Davidson and Buell announced today that they would offer extended warranties for all of the Harley owners that are currently over seas. They'll basicly extend the warranty an ammount equal to the number of days the boys were gone.

I don't own a Harley, but its stuff like this that reminds me they're a company that knows their customers. God bless them, and lets hope some other companies see the success of this program, and follow suit.

I can't see myself with a Harley... a Buell Lightning though... that I could do...
Colon Powell

oh? What's that? It's spelled with an "i"? Hrmm.. judging by the crap he's spouting lately I'd beg to differ. Colon on the Tsunami Aid:

"This money is an investment in America's national security."

Such blatant ignorance is rarely so proudly displayed. I mean... Marx wanted to prove his idiocy to the world... so he wrote a book... Colon just decided to make an announcement. That's the benefit of TV right there!

Let me follow this logic... we give the muslims some money... and they suddenly start to like us.

Wait wait... I've seen this episode before! It's the one where they sucker the Americans, take the money, and use it to fund countless attacks on American troops and civilians!

Even now countless terrorist organizations are masquarading as charities all over the world, and rest assured, they will recieve millions of dollars.

Girls and boys, we're fixing to lose every inch of financial ground we gained, and then some. Thanks Colon.
The Rules

I can only imagine that the women who thought these "Rules" up were actually conspiring to make sure that the younger generation remained single. Hailed as brilliant advice, most of this ridiculous twaddle is easily reducible to a childish game of hard to get. Times have changed. It's not 1940 anymore. We don't have to do the chasing, and when we choose to, we certainly don't have to try very hard... if we find ourselves trying to hard, we tend to go find someone who is more appreciative. Let me give some examples:

Only respond to 1 of every 4 emails you recieve in an office relationship: See? It's hard to get... like we stumbled back into the 8th grade. Praise God I never had to deal with this sort of thing, but if I had, I would've blown the chick off after she didn't respond to the second email.

In a long-distance relationship, he should visit you three times before you visit him once: That's funny... whatever happened to meeting in the middle? Julie and I started out as a long distance relationship. I visited her almost exclusively... of course... she was in highschool at the time... Once she left home, we'd meet in the middle, and eventually she transfered to my college. Scandalous!

Rules girls don't date for more than two years: Hrmm... Julie and I dated for ummm... 5 years. JAC and his wife dated for ummm... a decade.

Enough of that... stuff like this makes me want to choke someone. This "don't ask him out" drives me insane. Julie asked me to her prom for crying out loud. And what's this "if he doesn't call by wednesday, you don't go out on saturday" crap?

What idiot thought this garbage up?

Girls: If you own this book, burn it. Tear each page out one by one and set the ablaze. Make sure you don't miss a single page lest you be infected with it's loathsome stupidity. Any decent man that encounters a woman employing this type of manipulation will simply ignore her and move on.

Lets be very clear on something... if we call you, and leave a message, and you don't call us back... that's it. The assumption is, you ain't interested. If you were, you woulda called back. Dig? Y'all changed the rules, not us. Don't blame us for your strategical blunders.

There are predatory men out there. However, you're not 15 anymore. You should be able to see them from a mile away. You shouldn't need a book to keep you from them. The fact is, there are a lot of good guys out there who will not approach you unless you first give them a reason too, and once they do approach you, it will be very subtle. This in no way reflects how serious they are. It just shows them to be amatuers at this sort of deal, or shy.

These rules would have you ignore an entire segment of the non-predator male population, from which many fine husbands come. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

In case you're wondering what on earth I'm doing writing about this... I saw it mentioned on the blog of a particular female that I really think a lot of. Hopefully she'll steer clear of such silliness.
Album Review: Big and Rich - Horse of a Different Color

The first time I heard Big and Rich I was in the truck on the way back from the orchard. I remember lookin' over at Julie somewhere in the middle of "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" and saying... "This is why country music is cool now.... it's still fun. There's no fun in rock anymore."

Of course I never took them seriously at all. Let's face it... I'm a traditionalist. I've poured Wild Turkey on Hank Williams grave. I've been back stage of the Grand Ole Opry, and I've met Johnny Cash. So as the fella says... If that ain't country... I'll kiss your ass.

JAC is the same way... and to some degree so is WellDigger. We run with the outlaws. Waylon, Willie, and Kris, if you please. So... What the hell is this album doing in my CD player right now?

Plain and simple... this is roadhouse drinkin' music. Sure... there are tracks, and sections of tracks to skip... but for the most part this is a great album. Silliness abounds... no doubt about it, but it still manages to have a point when it needs to.

The album is singable. The melodies are predictable and still catchy... but it's the bizarre instrumentation that gets me. Banjo's, fiddles, and distorted guitars straight out of 1987. Cracks me up ever time I hear it.

Big and Rich have some growin' up to do... Unlike rockstars who have eiter burned out by 30, or you wish they had, country stars don't really get good until later in life. That means Big and Rich have a helluva upside.

For now though... I'll be content with some of the lyrical gems they've left for us:

"Cover me, a little extra deep, cause that's the only way, I'm ever gonna rest in piece"

"Bury me, on Deadwood Mountain, by my brother Wild Bill, and sister, Calamity Jane..."

"I met a man on the street lastnight... said his name was Jesus..."

"Though he was crazy till, I watched him heel a blind man... watched heel a blind man, now I see."

"Why does everybody want, to kick my ass?"

I have no business liking this band... but I do just the same. Probably because they're so damned unexpected.

Monday, January 03, 2005

The Wisdom of a Child

While that title probably has you thinking I'm about to spit off some bleeding heart tale... I'm hoping that by now you know better.

As I've said before, one of the great mistakes men make as they age, is they forget what's cool. As teenage hormones ravage our bodies, most of us start to associate what's cool, with whatever we think chicks like.

There's a few bad issues with thinkin' that way... First of all, in most cases chicks don't even know what they really like, and when they do know, they certainly never admit it.

Let me clue you in on what chicks really like; they like guys. They like guys who look like guys, and do guy stuff.

So... you want to know if a vehicle is cool? Don't ask a chick if she digs it. Go find a 5 year old boy. If he thinks its cool, you can rest assured every male alive will also think it's cool, and therefore, chicks will too, even if they don't admit it. But a 5-year old? HA! Show him a big red pickup truck with shiney wheels and big tires. Hell.. even a 2 year old. He'll point to it excitedly. "Big Truck! "Big Truck!" Show the same kid a Honda civic. He won't give a damn.

I was walkin' to the truck from Walmart the other day, and I crossed paths with this sissy lookin' dad. His 3 or 4 year old son was walkin' next to him holding his hand. Now here was daddy... lookin' like he's fresh from the golf course... (sissy) and I come walkin' by.

I hear:

"Daddy! look! It's a Cowboy!"

and to top it off.. As I climbed into the Titan...

"Cowboys drive big trucks!"

You can imagine Nate beeming with pride. Hell... I'm sittin' hear laughin' just thinkin' about it.

Fact is back when we were kids, we knew a lot better what we wanted, and what was good than we did when we were 19 or 20. Back then, we all wanted to be a fireman, or a farmer, or an Engineer. No... not a sissy suitwearing pencil pusher engineer. We wanted to be a Casey Jones engineer!

I always wanted to be a cowboy... or a pilot... I never really understood why I couldn't be both. Then I went to High School and College... turned stupid... Thankfully I found my way back. Here in about a year and half... I guess I'll have to give this flyin' stuff a try.

Then I'll know for sure. Of course... we may have to move to the coast... but thats ok too... Pirates are just as cool as Cowboys.
Glass Children

Do any of you remember riding wearin' a helmet while you rode your bicycle? No? How about while skating? No? Do you have fond memories of riding around in your parents car while strapped in to a safety seat with a 5-point harness? Me neither.

Strangely... we survived.

Weren't people stupid back then? See how much smarter we are today? We're so smart.

Oh sure... our kids are growing up to be little psychopaths... they can't read, or write, much less think criticly... they are educated and babysat by Mr TV and Mrs Gameboy... They go to schools more interested in fostering atheism, humanism, and bi-sexuality than reading, writing, and arithmatic... they go to churches that preach inclusion and tolerance rather than the word of God...

Our children are raised in a Culture of Darkness.... Ahh... but it's a very safe Culture of Darkness.

They'll teach your 4 - year - old about lesbianism... but By God don't let them catch your 3-year-old on a rocking horse.

Don't you know those things are dangerous?

Saturday, January 01, 2005


University of Tennessee Volunteers: 28 - Texas A&M Faggies: 0

All is right with the world.

Well she's officially in the books... and she went out with a bang didn't she? Well... I guess it was more like a flush. I figgered I'd take a minute or two to look back and see what all happened this year...

1) Another little boy on the way.
2) Julie passed Step 3.
3) JAC and I road 1000 miles in 24 hours.
4) Fixed up the bike.

It's funny... when I sit down and list out things that happened... I find there isn't a place for the big stuff. The most obvious thing to us is this gradual awareness of the change that we're about to go through. It wasn't until the last few months that Julie and I really started to realize that she's about done with this whole residency thing.

We've seriously started looking at the coming financial situation in terms of houses and expenditures. We're started seriously planning. We've seen our friends finish up and cash in. I mean... it's pretty heartening to see one of your peers go from living in a $10,000 trailer to owning a GTO, a Titan, and 3 high dollar motorcycles, along with moving into what I would've considered a mansion just 4 or 5 years ago.

Suddenly 16 years of work is about to pay off. Delayed returns... about to arrive. Even though it's still more than a year away... it seems like it is just around the corner.

2005 will probably go by quicker than any year of my life. There is so much we have to do, and so much going on.

I mean... just think about it... Imagine you know you're going to move in year... you know you'll be making 10 times what you make now... But you have no idea where you're going. Oh sure, we know a general area... For example... We refuse to live anywhere north of Nashville.... but other than that... It could be anywhere from northern Alabama, Northern Georgia... hell it could be Biloxi Mississippi! We just don't know.

I want to know... I really do... but then again... it's the not knowing that makes the whole thing so damned exciting.

So here's to 2005.; the preface to the rest of our lives.