Thursday, June 30, 2005

Get Off the Phone

Here's a tale ripped from Its a classic...

I live in this little borough. It is small enough that there are no stop lines before the crosswalks at the traffic lights. So I pull up at this one light, I'm in the left side of the left turn lane which is pretty much the middle of the street. My front tire is completely behind the painted line of the crosswalk. My right hand is lightly on the brake as well as my right foot is holding the bike in the rear. In the right lane next to me is silver grey Ford Crown Vic with municipal plates. I did not bother to register who or what might be driving.

As I'm waiting for the light to cycle, this woman dressed in an expensive business suit steps off the curb on my right side. She is talking on her cell phone, with it held up to her left ear. She looks to her right (away from all the traffic she just stepped in front of) and rapidly starts to cross the street. And she is loud I can hear her talking to her assistant about filing some forms for some settlement.

I tuned her out and looked back up at the left turn only traffic light. All of a sudden, bang the VFR lurches to my left pulling the bars out of my hands and this lady smacks her face on street! The cell phone bounces about twice and breaks into several pieces and I heard her sunglasses crunch on the concrete.

She shrieks like a banshee and jumps up only to stumble on her shoe’s broken heel. Her knees are bloody, as is her left hand along the outside edge and her nose looks pretty badly scraped. She screams at me "what the F*&k do you think you are doing. I'll have you arrested for Assault. Somebody call 911, this idiot just tried to run me over!"

I notice that She still has the grip of her briefcase in her right hand (but only the grip) and her knuckles are bleeding as well. I also scan the intersection and see a couple of people on the sidewalk now dialing their cell phones.

With my left hand I reach in and cut the key, putting it in my pocket. I turn and look back to make sure that the guy behind me sees that I'm not going anywhere. The guy driving is pounding on the steering wheel laughing histerically.

She steps right up to the side of my motorcycle and starts screaming at me "Get the F... off that thing, you Son of a B!tch, Get off that F..king bike NOW! or so help me I'll kill you M...F". But even if Iwanted to, I could not get off the bike at that instant because she is so close I would have to knock her down to swing my leg off.

At that moment the silver crown blasts across the street and screeches to a stop. The door opens and this guy in grey slacks and a sport coat gets out. He jogs back across the intersection and pulls the woman back about six feet, getting his body between us. He turns to me and says, "I saw you pull the key, don't move," as he starts to force the woman to walk back over to the curb. I hear the sirens that our cops use to clear intersections, and see the flashing lights in the rearview.

He's trying to get her to sit down on bus stop bench, but she just keeps trying to jump up and I guess take a run at me. I put my gloved hands on the tank, still trying to comprehend what is happening. The cop pulls up behind the guy behind me, and motions that he should go around. When the guy does (still laughing) the cop pulls forward some before he stops and gets out. He's halfway to me, when the woman starts screaming "He hit me with that motorcycle, deliberately...." then starts sobbing again. "don't move a muscle," the cop tells me and goes over to check her out. He's talking on the radio the whole way over. I see him start talking to the gent that got out of the grey car, they seem to know each other.

About then a second unit shows up. The second cop walks up on my left and bellows,"why are you still wearing that helmet, Take it off. And get off the bike."

"Wait," yells over the guy in grey. The second cop holds up his hand and bellows, "don't move". The guy in grey walks back over to me. "Straighten that front tire" the guy in grey says, and the second uniform backs up a couple of steps.

I pull the VFR bars back to straight and look at the grey suit. He stands over the front tire and looks down a the cross walk paint for a minute. "Okay, put the kickstand down, get your helmet and gloves off and the officer will need your license and insurance." he says as he starts to walk back to the curb.

I shuck the gloves and helmet, put the stand down carefully and start to pull out my wallet. The cop standing next to me yells over, "what am I charging him with?" "Nothing, we just need his info for the report and then he can go," says the grey suit.

The woman screams "What, You can't do that, I don't know who you think you are, but I know the mayor and the chief of police, they won't let that maniac get away with this!"

The dude in the grey suit says, "I don't know who you think you are lady, but I am the police chief, and I saw you walk into his front wheel because you were too busy on your cell phone. He was not in the cross walk nor was he moving when you fell over his front wheel." That's when she just totally lost it and started bawling like the end of the world was coming.

Needless to say in another twenty minutes I was told I was free to go and given a copy of the incident report form in case I needed to report an damage claim with my insurance company.
A Box of Wine

I know I've previously written that this is indeed a superior packaging method... but I feel the need to express my appreciation further...

We bought a box of Vella Red a couple days ago... man... how awesome it is to not have to just open some wine, have a glass... and not have to worry about it turning to vinegar overnight.

Wine from a tap... Genius!

Anyway... I recommend this Vella stuff. Lots of Citrus... without being to sweet... and somehow... in spite of the citrus taste... there's no tannis at all... strange... Anyway... get ya a box!

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Raisin' Money

Lately I've been sorta reflectin'... so pardon me if I take a moment to share...

I was thinkin' about gettin' older... about the fact that I truely ain't as good as I used to be... Hey... it happens to all of us... and now don't get me wrong... I've got plenty of piss and vinegar left in me... I just know that I'm on the downhill side of things... anyway... this got me thinkin'..

Back in highschool I had this group of buddies... they were all in the drumline with me... and well... they had them a real interesting way of pickin' up cash....

Before I get started let me point out that I do not condone this behavior... and I never participated... ahem... never...

Anyway.. Friday night would roll around and... my friends... would all get together and head downtown. On the way... my friends... would always engage in some lengthy debate over who was up... who's turn it was... and invariably by the time.. they... made it down to the little gay bar in Printers Alley... the matter was settled.

Understand that non of... them... were over 18. In fact... most were 15 or 16.

So whoever's turn it was... would simply walk into the place... strut up to the bar, and wait from some pervert to hit on him.

He'd play it cool until the queer would ask him to come home with him... and then... instead... he'd say, "Why go ? Lets just go out back..."

The Sicko's always seemed to bite.

Anyway... he'd lead the sicko out back where... my friends.... and he would then procede to beat the living hell outta the guy... and take all his cash.

They... would often get as much as 300 or 400 bucks! Not bad for high school kids... anyway... this went on for at least a couple years... and always at the same bar... the queeners never wised up...

Go figure...

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Here's to You Kiddo

DrWho and I went on our first date on Good Friday in 1993. On June, 28th of 1997... I married that girl in a big stone church down in Nashville.

8 years...

So here's to tough little boys... big babies... good dogs... porch swings... feather beds... big trucks... clear nights... and sunday afternoons darlin'.

I love ya kid.

(There ya go Waterboy.... That's as mushy as I get.)
Unintended Consequence

Oops. You can bet good ol' Justice Sauter never thought his own property would be confiscated when he supported that psychotic decision... ahhh.. this is to sweet. Though it's true that we shouldn't rejoice in the abuse of power... it's good to see a man bit by the rabid dog he loosed himself.

As for the rest... we can already see where this is going. Open war... the private use of local governments to target the property of political enemies.

How choice that the very justices who supported the decision may be its first victims.
The Machine

I hate it. I loathe it. I dread dealing with it... or even thinking about dealing with it. The "people" who work with it... or more accurately within it, make me want to tear out their beedy little eyes... and smash their smug smiles into their porky faces.

Last night Jeb fell and smashed a few teeth pretty good... I was dreading it... but I knew it meant I would have to... go out.

Out there... I hate going out there... You know why? Because there are people out there. That's why. God how I loathe people...

But you know what's worse than people? The Machine. The Machine is worse.

Still.. The boy's teeth needed looked at... though I know it's a trivial matter... he's eating... they look fine... he's not hurting... still... I'm the daddy... so its my job... Away we go...

I arrive at the Emergency Dental Clinic at 10:40am. The porky drone behind the desk informs me that I have an enormous pile of paperwork to complete, and it mumbles something about hoping I can write fast... apparently the clinic closes at 11. Great.

So... here I sit in a waiting room with a two year old, and a three month old... trying to fillout a stack of paperwork... Somebody shoot me.

Have you ever had to do this? One of the first things I read is... Is my child alergic to any general anesthetics? Are you kidding? He's two! And if you think I'm gonna let your dumb, failed out of medical school so you decided to be a dentist ass put my kid under with an unprotected airway, you've lost your damned mind!

Page after page of the exact same questions... What business is run this way? Why do I have to give you my name and address 8 different times? It's 2005 ya morons! How long have we had carbon copy technology? Criminey! You input data into a database... you then share that database with them what need the data... OR...

You give me 1,234,332,209,098 forms to fill out... all asking the same damned questions!

I've got an idea...

How about you integrate your damned systems... shove those forms up your fat bureacrat ass... and stop tryin' to ruin my life!

Of course... all the other sheep dutifully fill out the forms and hand them in... then wait for hours for the privilage of being served.

I took the first two forms up to the desk... handed them to the bloated drone... and told her that's all she was gettin'. It regurgitated some line about requirements. I told it that it had all the answers to all the questions. It could fill them in itself. Then it pointed out that it was 11am and they were closing until 1pm...

So I pointed out that it could kiss my ass... and we left.

I'm sick of the Machine. Dammit.

Monday, June 27, 2005

The Boys

Thought I'd post a couple pictures so you could see who I was hangin' out with these days. This is obviously Eli and his mommy...

While this is Jeb and his papa... fixing to Fish! Note the look in the boy's eye. All business.

Anyway... Them's my boys.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Alpha Male

So I'm trying to figure this alpha male thing out. I mean... As one myself... and as the brother of two others... I have some experience and perspective in the matter... but what I've recently been tryin' to wrap my head around is... where do we come from? What makes us what we are?

The most obvious thing that Alpha Males have in common, is the way they change the atmosphere just by walking into a room. Whether they want it or not, they become the focal point. Even when someone else is the center of attention, it's almost as though they are performing specificly for the Alpha in the room.

I was aware of this before... in the way that someone is aware of say... quarks... You know they are there, but you don't think about them much... That is until DrWho said something about it the other day. And there-in is another salient point... the chicks always know who the alpha is in the group... and rarely is there ever disagreement among them about it.

But back to this focal point deal... We were at a party with several folks from her department... it was a little one's second birthday, and we had arrived pretty late. There was no reason for me to be the focal point at all, and in fact, I had no interest in being such. However, it ended up happening anyway. All the guys ended up standing around talking to me. Literally following me around. At one time or another, every woman there walked up to say hi and chit-chat.

What's that about? I was by no means the biggest dude there... in fact, I was maybe the smallest. I wasn't the smartest... nor anywhere close to the most financially successful. In a room of very fit, highly successful, highly educated, highly intelligent men... What made me the Alpha?

Why is it.. that all through high school... and all through college... whatever group I was in... was always centered around me? hell... in school I had more followers than friends. What's that about?

Fact is... we humans have a leg up on critters in just about every area, and this is no different. Put to male dogs together, and they have to establish a pecking order... regardless of the size of group. We don't have to do that. For example... My buddy Curt is also an aphla... but we get along great. Why? Because we're both perfectly secure in ourselves, and neither of us is worried about the other. Curt knows he could kill me with his bare hands.... and I know I'd blow his head off before he got the chance. We don't have to fight it out.

That's one of the odd things about humans... we alpha males often seek out other alpha males as friends. We prefer them in fact. This of course throws a huge monkey wrench into that grand feminist theory that macho some how relates to insecurity. Try again honey.

We prefer to be in exclusive groups made up of those we consider badasses. We needle each other, and insult each other, and prank each other... as tests. Not to build ourselves up, but to tear down the other, to see how he handles it. We want to be around those we can trust.

But in the end... the facts that we surround ourselves with other alpha males... and the fact that people can tell we're the alpha... those are just symptoms. What makes us alphas?

We do.

The way we walk. The way we talk. The way we carry ourselves. It is in fact the exact opposite of what the feminists or modern psychologists would tell you. Its confidence. It's security. It's knowing who you are, what you are, and being well aware that you can handle any situation that comes up.

Say... Speaking of handling every situation... DrWho goes back to work Monday... so that's probalby today for you folks readin' this... Prayers are welcome... as she's not very happy about it at all. As for me... I'll be here with my two boys... and well... It's gonna be wild I reckon.

But I can handle it.

Friday, June 24, 2005


Well... before we get started... I wanted to ax a protocol quextion. See... I use contractions a lot... and what I'm wonderin' is... What's the word on using two contractions in the same word? For example... Y'all is a contraction of "you all". And we often use you've instead of "You have". So can I take "You all have" and make it "Y'all've"? And if I do, do I drop the first Apostrophe? Yall've?

Anyway.. Y'all've read patiently to this point, so I better not push my luck...

So DrWho just showed me the study I mentioned a couple weeks back... the one I promised I'd blog on. See... y'all don't realize but I'm actually sort of a medical prophet. I make jokes about bizare possibilities... and sooner or later, a study comes out to back up my assertions.

See... I have this habit... Whenever we go out to eat with another couple, and the chick orders a diet coke... I always say something like, "You can't drink that stuff! Don't you know it'll make ya fat?"

This of course gets a wide variety of responses... but regardless I just chuckle and point out that you almost never see skinny chicks drinkin' diet
Well... what have we here! It's a study that pretty clearly demonstrates a coralation between diet-cokes and obesity! Let me just run down the particulars

26-year study
1700 patients. At the start of the study patients were either at their ideal weight, or over-weight, but none were obese
Patients that drank diet cokes were 65% more likely to become obese over time than those who did not, and it got worse with each diet coke consumed
The study was performed by the Texas Health Science Center, and was presented at an annual diabetes conference in San Diego last month

All of this bookends nicely with a recent Purdue study that showed that lab rats consumed much high-calorie food after eating the equivilent of diet cokeSee? You know all those fat bastards out there ording a diet coke to wash down their 3 double whoppers with cheese? There could be a reason for that! No no.. I mean in addition to gluttony!

So there ya go... When you're tossin' back that Jack and coke tonight... make sure it's a real coke... not one of them diet things. They make ya fat.

A = Bulliet Bourbon
T = Another Cuban Label (mwahahaha)
F = CCW is back in my wallet... .40 is back on my hip.

What about you?

Oh yeah... and tunes... Anyone else notice that if you want to hear good ol' rock and roll you have to turn on a country station now? CCR... Allman Brothers... Classic 70's rock I mean.... if you want to hear that... the bands that play it, are now considered country.

The world's turned upside down. Anyay... I'm currently crankin' some Sawyer Brown... but later tonight... it will be time to break out the ol' Brahms Requiem. It goes well with the bourbon. Plus... given this week... aw hell... Y'all know what I mean.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Hell Yeah!

I don't know if ya'll have read this or not... if not, you should. Now. This is what bein' a man is all about. Let me sum it up though...

This 73-year-old granddaddy is out workin' in the field with his machete, when some ill-fated leopard decided he looked like dinner. Bad move. Sure sure.. He could've whacked it with the big knife... but no... that'd be to easy... to kind.

No... Instead... he jams his hand down the foolish beasts maw, grasps around until he gets a good grip.. then rips the damn things tongue out! No doubt he stood around a laughed while it flopped around on the ground, and died like the big pussy it was.

I don't know about you, but I'm throwin' one back to this ol' boy tonight!
Is It Time Yet Claire?

Much to everyone's suprise... Justice Kennedy (Appointed by who?) sided with the liberal wing of SCOTUS to piss on the ashes of american property rights. One more tiny decision... one more giant leap towards socialism. Typical... Bloody typical. You can read the trash for yourself here if you'd like.

As the man from Clutch once said...

I believe there's a storm a brewin'... I believe we're gonna die die die.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

VietNam and Iraq

Let's compare shall we?

Vietnam: Undeclared war.
Iraq: Undeclared war.

Vietnam: Fought to prevent our enemy (commies) from taking control of South Vietnam.
Iraq: Fought to remove a terrorist regime, and now to prevent our enemy (jihadists) from taking control of Iraq.

Vietnam: US was enforcing the Marshall Plan.
Iraq: US is enforcing the Bush Doctrine.

Vietnam: Guerilla War in the Jungle.
Iraq: Urban Guerilla War in the Desert.

Vietnam: Invisible enemy that hid among the population
Iraq: Invisible enemy that hides among the population

Vietnam: South Vietnamese troops took majority of the casualties on our side.
Iraq: Iraqi troops taking the majority of the casualties on our side.

Vietnam: American Kill Ration: 10-20 to 1.
Iraq: American Kill Ration: Unkown... but absurdly high. Possibly 50 to 100 to 1.

Vietnam: Rampant public confusion over why where there, and what we were doing.
Iraq: Rampant public confusion over why we're there, and what we're doing.

Vietnam: Numerous military scandals involving the treatment of "civilians"
Iraq: Military "scandals" growing ever more numerous.

Vietnam: Public perception: We Lost.
Iraq: Public perception: We're Losing.

Vietnam: reality: We left... and the commies took over.
Iraq: reality: We will be leaving... and the terrorists will take over.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Diggin' Holes...

We lost Dixie today. We don't really even know how or why. Maybe heat... Maybe poison... we just don't know. Cas was bad off too... but he's bigger... and managed to pull on through. Anyway... she was a great little dog, and she loved Jeb more than she loved her own pups. I don't reckon theres anything better I can say about her than that. She deserved to go out better than she did.

We miss ya baby.
Men, Rifles, and The Reality of War

Another day... a few more bodies... and more bluster from The Man about standing firm.

Seems we're bombarded with terrorism these days. You wouldn't know that it's been almost four years since the towers were hit. Hell... You'd think bus bombs were going off weakly here in the states. I suppose I could better understand the ankle-grabber position on the Patriot Act if that were the case.

In reality however, the War on Terror is little more than american soldiers standing around getting shot.

Seems that we've forgotten how to occupy. The greeks knew it. The Romans knew it. Attila knew it. Hell... even Hitler knew it. Conquering is only half the battle... and it ain't even the harder half. Holding. That's the hard part.

Occupation requires the commitment of troops. It requires martial law, and the ruthless application of punishments, be they just or unjust. Frankly either will work. It requires devestation on such a scale, that it breaks the enemies will to fight.

The modern world has forgotten the lessons of history. You cannot conquer and free. It doesn't work. Even the terms are mutually exclusive. To think otherwise is right-wing hubris on a left-wing scale.

We've seen it in Viet-nam... where our kill ratios were 10 and 20 to 1... yet today whole generations think we "got our butts kicked". Please. We weren't run off. We got bored with killing thousands of people monthly, and decided to leave.

Imagine watching a fight.. were a really big guy, is ruthelessly pounding a little guy senseless, because he wants the little guy to give him his trinket. The little guy is all but un-conscience... but he keeps refusing to give the trinket... and the big guy just keeps hitting him. Sure... he could take the trinket... but that would be stealing... no... he wants it given to him. Eventually the big guy gets bored... tired of smashing the kid's face... and decides the trinket isn't worth the stink of blood... so he leaves.

The little guy then gets up... and claims victory because he still has his trinket.

That's Vietnam.

Now... Look at today. Today we've got American soldiers standing around getting shot in a "free" country that doesn't want them there. If you look hard enough, you can see the past there, and you can see the future too.

Just change the setting... in the past, it could be the Russian occupation of Afganistan. Or in the future, it could be martial law in these united States. Only here it would be much worse. There is no Iraqi military to use as cannon fodder here... No South Vietnamese Rangers to walk behind. No... here there is just lonely street corners to patrol... and lots of places to shoot from.

Oh yeah... and potentially 80 million snipers. Better not forget them.

The occupation of America would be a nitemare. It's the worst case scenario for any military. It's an invisible enemy, who out-numbers you, and who renders your most powerful weapons useless.

Sometimes studying history is like seeing the future. You know who wins... even before the battle's fought... because... strangely enough... it's already been fought.

Friday, June 17, 2005


Well... here it is... another Friday night... at least this time I'm fairly prepared though. I've actually got somethin' I've been lookin' forward to tryin'.

We're sippin' Bulleit Bourbon tonight boys... 90 proof... medium amber color... Aged around 6 years... similar color to Wild Turkey... though this stuff uses different grains than my favorite bourbons... so I'm a little skepitcal... There is more rye in it... we'll see how it goes...

Actually.. we'll see right now.


Smoke... Honey... hints of mint and caramel.... not to bad boys! Not nearly as sweet as Makers and Turkey... but then.. nothin' really is. They're by far the sweetest two whiskeys I've ever had... and well... I've had a few.

You know what this Bulleit stuff makes me think of? I kind of get the impression... that this is what Crown Royal was supposed to taste like... but they just never got it right. Poor dumb Candanians... Up there mixing and matchin'... tryin' to create some perfect whiskey by mixing imperfect parts.

Never gonna happen.

Now back to this Bulleit stuff... See... if bourbon were women... then this stuff would make someone a great wife... not me... but someone. It doesn't strike me as hollywood superstar spectacular (Bookers), or The Best Decision You Ever Made (Makers)... but it's good... and it's reasonably priced.

Ain't smokin' tonight... and I'm drinkin' alone...

Say... I've got a buzz!

Maybe we'll have to official move the old rating up a notch on this Bulleit stuff! Let's see here.. Davy Crocket mentioned on the label... check. County in Kentucky where it was produced noted on label... check. 80 proof +... check. Drinkable? check. Buzz? check.

There ya go... a solid 5 on the Nate Scale of Good Bourbon. It may be better... we'll just have to wait... I'll give some to Whiskey Girl tomarrow night... if she digs it... I'll bump it up to a six. If she spontenously takes off her shirt, we'll take it to an 8... Don't count on that though. If Russel's Reserve didn't do it... this won't either.

Anyway... Tilt 'em back boys.

Here's My Sign

I was rollin' north on I-75... probly 25 miles south of Choo-Choo... That's Chattanooga for all you folks who's daddy's ain't truckers... anyway... It was a gorgeous day... I had new tires on the bike... Life was just good.

On up the road aways I notices a ton of black smoke pouin' into the air and suddenly traffic slowed way down. Clearly life wasn't good that day for everybody... Whatever it was had just happened... because traffic was still movin' pretty good... and as I got closer, even though I couldn't see it, it was somethin' burnin like hell on the side of the road. Now one of the cool things about bikes is... if you want to see something, you can. So I popped over to the far right side of the far right lane... and.. aw hell...

There on the side of the road sat a F-350.. burning like hell from tailgate to grill. I know it was a Ford... because it was on the side of the road on fire.

Anyway I figured I was armed... and whoever was in that bad boy wasn't in no position to be much of a threat... so I pulled over... along with a trucker who'd decided the same.

Next to the burnin wreck... I found this ol' boy... just standin' there starin' at it... Eye's all wide... I tell ya boys.... this feller was white... I mean pale as anything I've ever seen. He was all shook up... and ever so often... he'd curse... Not an angry curse... more like... a "I can't believe I'm alive" curse.

I stood next to him silently a little while... and without makin' eye contact I said... "anybody else in there?"

"Umm.... naw man..."

"You ok?"

"Ummm... naw... naw.. well I mean... yeah... I ain't hurt I mean..."

"So... umm... what happened?"

Then... for the first time he got a little color back... He turned an looked me... gave me this blank expressionless.. stunned look...

"ummm... It caught on fire."

"Yeah... Yeah I kinda got that part... but I mean... How did it manage to catch on fire like that... and still have the common decency to let you get out first?"

"well.. I was rollin' down the road there... and I smelt somethin' electrical... and I thought... hell... that smells like somethin' electrical... Then I seen smoke... and I pulled over, jumped out... and..." As he trailed off he just held his hands out to the truck... as if to silently say.. "that happened."

About that time the trucker walked up. I asked him if he had a fire extenguisher... he just shook his head...

"yeah... I got one... but it won't touch that."

Anyway... the trucker said he'd take care of the boy... and the law was about to get there, so I figured I'd go ahead and bail out... I'd already earned my sign anyway.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005


- How do you kill a Blue Elephant? With a Blue Elephant Gun.

- How do you kill a Pink Elephant? You hold his trunk till he turns blue... then you shoot him with the Blue Elephant Gun.

- So I have this friend... Ned... Ned who used to work in the circus. If I recall correctly it was a Czechoslovokian Circus... a real low rent kinda deal... anyway... Ned always tells stories from his circus days. He likes to talk about the Ring Master and the lion... Seems they had some wild times. Aparently the Ring Master was a real prick. He used to whoop that lion... who was called Jake by the way... the lion... not the Ring Master... I don't remember what his name was... The Ring Master I mean... anyway... The Ring Master... who's name I don't remember, used to whoop that lion... Jake... with a whip. Used to whip him something aweful. Anyway... That lion finally got fed up... and he ate that durned Ring Master... just ate him up. Well of course there was a big ol' investigation... the cops followed Jake around for several days... you know... collectin' the evidence... then finally... they up and arrested that lion!

Apparently he'd been passin' bad checks.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Piss Off Fatso

This is freakin' awesome. I'm so sick of hearing all these stories these huge women... I mean... huge... like... 5 feet none... 455 pounds... huge. Big. Damn Big. They somehow waddle their way into a hospital and demand treatment... stinking to high heaven... and invariably they are the biggiest whiners in the hosptial. To bad American doctors don't have the balls to do this sort of thing.

I know... You're shocked... you can't believe I'd condone denying someone treatment because of their weight. Well think again. If you don't think enough of your health to get off the damned couch, then why should I?

I have no more sympathy for the morbidly obese than I do for the chronic drug addict or the habitual queer. Your problems are of your own making.

Put down the damned twinkie.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Homebirthin' = Bad Idea

2 stats for ya.

Of all the Modern Countries in the world (1st world) the country with the highest rate of birth related infant mortality is... Japan.


Of all the modern countries in the world (1st world) the country with highest rate of non-hospital births is????

Thats right! Japan. In japan most births are at home... or at little "mom and pop" birthin' shops. When something goes wrong... they try like hell to get the kids to a real hospital... but of course... transit and takes time. Sometimes its time that mom and baby just don't have.

Listen people... when it comes to basic decision making about important matters... you can pretty much rule out just about anything the hippies do. So if you find yourself sidin' with the Damn Dirty Hippies (DDH) you should probably seriously reconsider your position. That's all I'm sayin'.

Just a quick rebuttal to those who claim that birthing is a perfectly natural body function which requires no assistance. This is the most assinine of arguements. Let's take a look at the animal world shall we? It's perfectly natural for a bitch to lose half of her first litter if she's left on her own... and even when they do better than average, they almost always lose at least 1. Left unassisted.. who's to say how many kids would naturally die... but I'll say this, if they are my kids, even 1 is to many... and like I said in the "all natural" post... we've developed our medical sciences naturally, as we were meant to. Avoiding hospitals is tantamount to a beaver choosing to sleep outside because he views the dam as unatural.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

The Teddy Roosevelt Story

Frontiersmen are not, as a rule, apt to be very superstitious. They lead lives too hard and practical, and have too little imagination in things spiritual and supernatural. I have heard but few ghost-stories while living on the frontier, and those few were of a perfectly commonplace and conventional type.

But I once listened to a goblin-story which rather impressed me. It was told by a grizzled, weather-beaten old mountain hunter, named Bauman, who was born and had passed all of his life on the frontier. He must have believed what he said, for he could hardly repress a shudder at certain points of the tale; but he was of German ancestry, and in childhood had doubtless been saturated with all kinds of ghost and goblin lore, so that many fearsome superstitions were latent in his mind; besides, he knew well the stories told by the Indian medicine-men in their winter camps, of the snow-walkers, and the specters, and the formless evil beings that haunt the forest depths, and dog and waylay the lonely wanderer who after nightfall passes through the regions where they lurk; and it may be that when overcome by the horror of the fate that befell his friend, and when oppressed by the awful dread of the unknown, he grew to attribute, both at the time and still more in remembrance, weird and elfin traits to what was merely some abnormally wicked and cunning wild beasts; but whether this was so or not, no man can say.
When the event occurred Bauman was still a young man, and was trapping with a partner among the mountains dividing the forks of the Salmon from the head of Wisdom River. Not having had much luck, he and his partner determined to go up into a particularly wild and lonely pass through which ran a small stream said to contain many beaver. The pass had an evil reputation because the year before a solitary hunter who had wandered into it was there slain, seemingly by a wild beast, the half eaten remains being afterwards found by some mining prospectors who had passed his camp only the night before.

The memory of this event, however, weighted very lightly with the two trappers, who were as adventurous and hardy as others of their kind. They took their two lean mountain ponies to the foot of the pass where they left them in an open beaver meadow, the rocky timber-clad ground being from there onward impracticable for horses. They then struck out on foot through the vast, gloomy forest, and in about four hours reached a little open glade where they concluded to camp, as signs of game were plenty.

There was still an hour to two of daylight left, and after building a brush lean-to and throwing down and opening their packs, they started upstream. The country was very dense and hard to travel through, as there was much down timber, although here and there the somber woodland was broken by small glades of mountain grass. At dusk they again reached camp. The glade in which it was pitched was not many yards wide, the tall, close-set pines and firs rising round it like a wall. On one side was a little stream, beyond which rose the steep mountain slope, covered with the unbroken growth of evergreen forest.

They were surprised to find that during their absence something, apparently a bear, had visited camp, and had rummaged about among their things, scattering the contents of their packs, and in sheer wantonness destroying their lean-to. The footprints of the beast were quite plain, but at first they paid no particular heed to them, busying themselves with rebuilding the lean-to, laying out their beds and stores and lighting the fire.

While Bauman was making ready supper, it being already dark, his companion began to examine the tracks more closely, and soon took a brand from the fire to follow them up, where the intruder had walked along a game trail after leaving the camp. When the brand flickered out, he returned and took another, repeating his inspection of the footprints very closely. Coming back to the fire, he stood by it a minute or two, peering out into the darkness, and suddenly remarked, "Bauman, that bear has been walking on two legs." Bauman laughed at this, but his partner insisted that he was right, and upon again examining the tracks with a torch, they certainly did seem to be made by but two paws or feet. However, it was too dark to make sure. After discussing whether the footprints could possibly be those of a human being, and coming to the conclusion that they could not be, the two men rolled up in their blankets, and went to sleep under the lean-to.

At midnight Bauman was awakened by some noise, and sat up in his blankets. As he did so his nostrils were struck by a strong, wild-beast odor, and he caught the loom of a great body in the darkness at the mouth of the lean-to. Grasping his rifle, he fired at the vague, threatening shadow, but must have missed, for immediately afterwards he heard the smashing of the under wood as the thing, whatever it was, rushed off into the impenetrable blackness of the forest and the night.

After this the two men slept but little, sitting up by the rekindled fire, but they heard nothing more. In the morning they started out to look at the few traps they had set the previous evening and put out new ones. By an unspoken agreement, they kept together all day, and returned to camp towards evening.

On nearing it they saw, hardly to their astonishment, that the lean-to had again been torn down. The visitor of the preceding day had returned, and in wanton malice had tossed about their camp kit and bedding, and destroyed the shanty. The ground was marked up by its tracks, and on leaving the camp it had gone along the soft earth by the brook, where the footprints were as plain as if on snow, and , after a careful scrutiny of the trail, it certainly did seem as if, whatever the thing was, it had walked on two legs.

The men, thoroughly uneasy, gathered a great heap of dead logs and kept up a roaring fire throughout the night, one or the other sitting on guard most of the time. About midnight the thing came down through the forest opposite, across the brook, and stayed there on the hillside for nearly an hour. They cold hear the branches crackle as it moved about, and several times it uttered a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a peculiarly sinister sound. Yet, it did not venture near the fire.

In the morning the two trappers, after discussing the strange events of the last 36 hours, decided that they would shoulder their packs and leave the valley that afternoon. They were the more ready to do this because in spite of seeing a good deal of game sign they had caught very little fur. However it was necessary first to go along the line of their traps and gather them, and this they started out to do. All the morning they kept together, picking up trap after trap, each one empty. On first leaving camp they had the disagreeable sensation of being followed. In the dense spruce thickets the occasionally heard a branch snap after they had passed; and now and then there were slight rustling noises among the small pines to one side of them.

At noon they were back within a couple of miles of camp. In the high, bright sunlight their fears seemed absurd to the two armed men, accustomed as they were, through long years of lonely wandering in the wilderness, to face every kind of danger from man, brute or element . There were still three beaver traps to collect from a little pond in a wide ravine near by. Bauman volunteered to gather these and bring them in, while his companion went ahead to camp and made ready the packs.

On reaching the pond Bauman found three beavers in the traps, one of which had been pulled loose and carried into a beaver house. He took several hours in securing and preparing the beaver, and when he started homewards he marked, with some uneasiness, how low the sun was getting. As he hurried toward camp, under the tall trees, the silence and desolation of the forest weighted on him. His feet made no sound on the pine needles and the slanting sun-rays, striking through among the straight trunks, made a gray twilight in which objects at a distance glimmered indistinctly. There was nothing to break the gloomy stillness which, when there is no breeze, always broods over these somber primeval forests.

At last he came to the edge of the little glade where the camp lay, and shouted as he approached it, but got no answer. The camp fire had gone out, though the think blue smoke was still curling upwards. Near it lay the packs wrapped and arranged. At first Bauman cold see nobody; nor did he receive an answer to his call. Stepping forward he again shouted, and as he did so his eye fell on the body of his friend, stretched beside the trunk of a great fallen spruce. Rushing towards it the horrified trapper found that the body was still warm, but that the neck was broken, while there were four great fang marks in the throat.

The footprints of the unknown beast-creature, printed deep in the soft soil, told the whole story.
The unfortunate man, having finished his packing, had sat down on the spruce log with his face to the fire, and his back to the dense woods, to wait for his companion. While thus waiting, his monstrous assailant, which must have been lurking in the woods, waiting for a chance to catch one of the adventurers unprepared, came silently up from behind, walking with long noiseless steps and seemingly still on two legs. Evidently unheard, it reached the man, and broke his neck by wrenching his head back with its fore paws, while it buried its teeth in his throat. It had not eaten the body, but apparently had romped and gamboled around it in uncouth, ferocious glee, occasionally rolling over and over it; and had then fled back into the soundless depths of the woods.

Bauman, utterly unnerved, and believing that the creature with which he had to deal was something either half human or half devil, some great goblin-beast, abandoned everything but his rifle and struck off at speed down the pass, not halting until he reached the beaver meadows where the hobbled ponies were still grazing. Mounting, he rode onwards through the night, until beyond reach of pursuit.

(original story appeared in Wilderness Hunter written by Theodore Roosevelt in 1892. The events are believed to have taken place in Wyoming or southern Montana.)

Saturday, June 11, 2005

All Natural defines "Natural" as; Present in or produced by nature: a natural pearl.

Indeed this is a common definition... but the insistence of the Green Crowd on the inherent greatness of things defined as All Natural is among the more amuzing hints to their rampant ignorance.

After all... what exactly is not... natural? What is that we have... that does not come from nature?

A beaver dam is considered natural... because its built by beavers... and beavers are apparently naturally occuring. Given this... isn't an interstate just as natural? We humans are in fact naturally occuring... at least... in so much as a beaver is. So when a beaver uses sticks and much to dam up a creek, why is that different from humans using sand, cement, and water to create concrete roads?

Either we humans are naturally occuring or we are not. If we are... then everything we do to the earth is natural, and is indeed the proper natural state of the earth. The roads... the buildings... the smog... the oilslicks... the various extinct species. They are all natural.

It's only when we humans are viewed as apart from nature... as if we were put here by some higher being that our stewardship of the earth becomes relevant.

Indeed if evolution were true... the endagered species legislation would actually be screwing up the system.

There's a lesson here y'all. If you haven't spent much time thinkin' about something... you probly shouldn't have real strong convictions on it.

Friday, June 10, 2005


Well... here we are again...

It's yet another Friday Night... and yet again.. I find myself with no one to drink and smoke with. This clean livin' is killin' me. Seriously... I'm to young for this crap.

I smoked half a Don Juan tonight all ready.. great cigar... really complex. It's starts out sorta spicy... but not Perdomo spicy... then it goes into more of a nutty woodsy kinda deal... and I'm pretty sure it changes again at the end...but I wouldn't know... as the damned thing went out on me. Just my luck. .. the cigar equivalent of an emergency phonecall in the middle of the best BJ you ever got. Not that such a thing has ever happened of course...


What are we drinkin' tonight? After that cigar deal I could sure use somethin! dunno.... maybe I'll sneak off for a nip later on... Wonder what's a good rainy night whiskey? duh... Makers... Russells Reserve... Woodfordes.. 1792... Same ol' same I reckon. I got a hankerin' for somethin' a little less sweet tonight... something... smokey... Suggestions welcome.

Y'all hear that Springfield is comin' out with a 1911 in .45GAP? Think of it as a full-size 1911, scaled down 20%. Not just the slide scaled down either... pretty much the whole gun. Sounds like fun eh? Well... not really for me... you folks with girly little hands... ahem... Will... Gregg.... you should look into it. It may be just your size. Not callin' ya girly mind ya... ok well.. yeah... maybe I am.. I reckon you're used to it by now.

Ah well... no time for this drinkin' and carryin' on anyways... I gots nieces to play with. I'll have to put my sippin' off till they go to bed least ways.

Toss 'em back kids.

***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***

A little over 100 years ago there used to be stories of odd black and white creatures... that lived in the remote parts of china... and ate bamboo. The people who believed these stories were the objects of much fun and the brunt of many jokes.

Today you can see Panda's in several large zoos are the United States.

The orangutan, the gorrilla, the white tiger, the giant squid, the kommodo dragon, and the mega-mouth shark are all cryptids that the scientific community knew did not exist... some as recently as 20 years ago.

That's the great thing about scientists... they never really know what they tell you they know. But they're awefully sure they know it.

This brings me to my favorite particular cryptid... Bigfoot. Now... we're not talking about Santa Claus here. There is no singular Bigfoot. It's not an individual monster. We're talking about the possible existence of a large (6-9 foot tall) bipedal creature, covered with hair.

You ask, "why isn't there video of one?"

There is, says I. There are also several audio clips. Both are available here.

That little gem of a site is probably my favorite spot on the net on a rainy friday night. I sneak over there late at night and read the encounters. I tend to focus on places I know. My old home town... Sitings around middle and east Tennessee... and of course.. the many in West Virginia.

Tell ya what... later tonight... not now.... but later... when its dark out... and the mind is more open to... the unexplained... click here. After you've heard that... head back over to and read a few stories from around your home state or county. Play some of the audio files. Pay attention to that howl. I've heard that one... out in the big woods... the old woods. In the mountains east of Morgantown. That right there is the kinda thing that creeps a man in a tree stand out!

Of all the footage that's been taken, the most impressive, and there contraversial, is the Peterson Film. Of course... many believe this film to be a fake, as a few individuals have actually come forth and claimed to have been the man in the costume. Of course, they could never produce the costume, or even create an approximation of the costume. In fact, the more people have tried to disprove the film, the more they've ended up demonstrating its validity. See... when the BBC spends a couple million dollars "reproducing" the "faked video" and the product comes out looking much less real than the original... well... it raises a few eyebrows. That's exactly what happened with the Peterson Film.

Cryptozoology is a closet hobby of mine. One that I would love to spend some time on... but just haven't got the time and money to do it yet.

So... consider the floor open for your tales of the unexplained. You're ghost stories... your Mothman stories... your bigfoot stories. I figure it should make the ATF post all the better.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

The Hybrid Male

"The masculine ideal is being completely modified. All the traditional male values of authority, infallibility, virility and strength are being completely overturned," said Pierre Francois Le Louet, the agency's managing director.
Instead today's males are turning more towards "creativity, sensitivity and multiplicity," as seen already in recent seasons on the catwalks of Paris and Milan.
Arnold Schwarznegger and Sylvester Stallone are being replaced by the 21st-century man who "no longer wants to be the family super-hero", but instead has the guts to be himself, to test his own limits.
"We are watching the birth of a hybrid man. ... Why not put on a pink-flowered shirt and try out a partner-swapping club?"

So says a french study of men between the ages of 25 and 30. French men bat from the queener side of the plate... You need a study to tell you this? I've got a buddy who quit his job as a physician in a Paris hospital, because he couldn't stand seeing all the male doctors wearing lipstick.

Not chapstick... Lipstick. And apparently they chatted like girls about what colors and tones looked best on each other while they put it on in the locker rooms after work.

As for this nonsense about "having the guts to be themselves"... I've had just about all of this type of crap I can stand. Having the guts to be yourself really is just an overly flattering way of saying you're to cowardly to attempt to be something more.

The standards of manly ideals are high, and they are set so deliberately. They give us something for which to strive. Those who abandon the struggle do so out of cowardice, not conviction.

No doubt loathesome individuals... the pasty white cubical dwellers who can't tell a carberator from an alternator will see this latest study from the land of the cheese eating surrender monkies as a great step forward.

The rest of us will simply shake our heads... spit... and pray for rain.

Say... 40 days or so of it...

Wednesday, June 08, 2005


- An elephant and an ant fall madly in love and are married. That night... in the throws of passionate love making... the elephant has a heart attack and dies. Says the ant to himself... "Oh nice... 5 minutes of pleasure... and now I got to spend the rest of my life diggin' a hole."

- So this guy walks out of his front door... and he sees a snail on his porch... He picks up the snail and throws it over his fence. 4 years later... he opens his front door... and the snail says... "What'd you do that for?"

- An evironmentalist called in a repairman to fix her electric clock. He examined it and told her, "There's nothing wrong with the clock. You didn't have it plugged in."

She replied, "I don't want to waste electricity, so I only plug it in when I want to know what time it is."

- A guy goes to his eye doctor for an examination. They start talking as the doctor is examing his eyes. In the middle of their conversation, the doctor casually says, "You need to stop masturbating."

The guy replies, "Why Doc? Am I going blind?"

The doctor says, "No, but you're upsetting the other patients in the waiting room."

- One day mama bear and papa bear were getting a divorce. The judge decided that baby bear was going to live with mama bear.
Baby bear started to cry . "Whats wrong?" the judge asked baby bear.
"I dont want to live with mama bear, she abuses me!" said baby bear.
"Then, you can live with papa bear" said the judge.
Baby bear started to cry even harder the judge asked him, "Whats wrong?" Baby bear replied,
" I dont want to live with papa bear he abuses me even more than mama bear does."
"Then who do you want to live with?" asked the judge.
Baby bear replied, "I want to live with the Baylor Bears, because they don't beat anyone!"

- Why did the sheep jump into the lake?
He wanted to take a ba-a-a-th.

- What did the outlet say to the cord?
Socket to me, baby.

- Two muffins are in the oven. One looks over and says, "Gee, don't you think it's hot in here?" and the other muffin says, "AAAAHHH!!!! A talking muffin!!!"

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Perception, Reality, and US vs. Miller

Ask the average semi-learned individual, or court reporter about US vs. Miller and they will dutifully recited that it is the 1920's decision that granted the federal government the right to regulate firearms sale, ownership, and production. They will likely claim its the end of the line for the individual right to bear arms. They will say all of this... without ever having read the decision for themselves. They will simply repeat what they heard someone else say about it.

Who can blame them... I mean... how many of us take the time to read Supreme Court Decisions?

OK well... this is a poor group to pose that question too... obviously we do... but come on... Average Joe knows only what the box or headline tells him. Even if he does read an article or two on it... he'll still only have only a reduced view of the matter. I mean reduced in the culinary sense of course...

That's perception. So what about reality?

In reality... Mr Miller found out about the then new Federal Firearms Act and got pissed about it. He knew full well that it was unconstitutional... so he went and cutoff his shotgun to short... and dared someone to arrest him for it.

Of course... they did.

On appeal after appeal after appeal... the matter finally reached the Supreme Court. Interestingly... by this time... Mr Miller had been in jail long enough that he was both broke, and broken.

If you can imagine this... the man's attorney didn't even argue before SCOTUS.

In spite of this... what came down was still a resounding victory for individual gun rights... but that's not how it was spun by the press.

What the decision said specificly was that since a shotgun had no military value, the government could then regulate it. They even acknowledged that the only reason they concluded that it had no military value, was that no evidence was offered to the contrary. It should be noted that the military at the time made grand use of shotguns all over the world.

The decision stated clearly that the government could only regulate weapons that had no military value, and therefore, all weapons that had military value were covered by the second amendment. This is indeed a learned view of the Second Amendment, as it is indeed all about the military... and the citizens need to be just as well armed as it is.

So according to US vs. Miller... we can own tanks... jets... missiles... indeed, thermo-nuclear weapons... and the US government has no power to say anthing about it. But the effect was the exact opposite.

No one read the opinion... they just read what the reporters said.

So.. the next time some punk liberal lectures you on your right-wing extremism... point to US vs Miller... and remind him that according to the most recent Supreme Court decision on the Second Amendment... its perfectly legal for you to buy an ICBM.

Monday, June 06, 2005


Quoth the Tennessean:The good news: Zero tolerance offenses in Metro schools experienced 51% decrease over the past three years. The bad news: For the same three-year period, police arrests in Metro schools have nearly tripled.

Let's see... three times the arrests... for a 50% reduction...

Well that's that... Math proves the supporters of Zero-Tolerance are morons. Obviously I could write at length about this... but why? The hate's just not in me today... and well... since the matter of my sons' education has long been settled... and the possibility of government schooling has long been ruled out... well... I just have a hard time spewin' venom over it.

How many different times can you really say "Burn 'em down and Hang them what built 'em"?
Three Meals

Ya know there was a time in this part of the country when we all knew the correct names of the three daily meals. In the mornin' we had breakfast. Which is appropirately named... as its the meal when you break you nightly fast.

The next meal of course was the day time meal... and since it was had in the daytime... it was called dinner. Then the nightly meal was called supper.

Sadly... our part of the country has been infiltrated. Much of what we used to know has been lost to the yankee heathens. Apparently now the evening meal is dinner.... dinner...

It's not dinner people... it's supper... hell.. That's Biblical! Who ever heard of the Lord's Dinner? I suppose if Jesus was from Ohio...

Jesus from Ohio??? A yankee Christ??? Now that sounds like a song right there boys...

"If Jesus was a Yankee... We'd all go to Hell."

Anyway... I suppose I should point out that most of this came from the preacher on Sunday Mornin'. I tell ya'll... if you never have the privilage of hearin' a mainline preacher's retiring few sermons.... well... the Good Lord just may have jipped ya. Nobody swings for the fences like somebody who knows he's takin' his last few shots.

Friday, June 03, 2005


Yeah Yeah... I know... It's late... But don't fret... I'm gonna make up for lost time!

I've been meanin' to blog on my first honest attempt at a country music song. I've not got anything typed up yet... I've just strummed a little on the guitar and sung a few bars to myself in the truck... I've got the concept down of course... the lyrical hook... and of course it has all the requirements of any good country song; trains, trucks, prison, mama, and gettin' drunk... though in this case... not drunk enough... You know the story... woman runoft... dog died... truck won't start... just an all around bad bad day.

I would've posted earlier... but frankly I've been off havin' a big time with my buddies in Nashville. Jeb's future bride (the arranged marriage is being worked out as I type) and her family were gracious enough to invite us over for pizza.

Now the bad news is... these folks are do gooders. No booze... no smokes... about the biggest vice this guy has is Tennis. That ain't good boys. So anyway... here I sit on a Friday night... with nothing... no smokes... no booze...

Thankfully I do have guns though. Though even there my options are limited... Julie's keltec .40... my beloved PT-101... or my Taurus .357 Tracker... ***sigh*** I feel naked.

But... on to the ATF:

A: IBC Cherry LimeAid Who woulda thunk it?
T: Something from WellDigger's well-stocked Humidor. Yeah he got one finally... and it's a doozie. Someting lighter.. Maybe a Don Juan?
F: Currently lusting over a particular STI 1911... though I'd never stray from my beloved Springfield... unless I suppose I could be talked into a CZ.. oops.. I mean Dan Wesson.

So there it is for this week. Y'all have a ball. Say a prayer for Res and Waterboy, who're out havin' more fun than any of us deserve. God Bless 'em... Say one for Bane to while your at it. No daddy should have to watch his son go through that.

Anyway... Y'all keep 'em straight...

***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***
Representative Republic; Nate Style

Setting aside the Whatsit... I'd like to take a brief moment to discuss the inherent flaw in this particular type of government.

The Representative Republic is much ballyhooed... and is nearly universally lauded... There is a problem though... and one that is roundly ignored. Lets start by lookin' at the process.

Elections are held to select those who will represent the voters in the halls of government. Looking closer... People who desire the position of representative sign forms and declare their intent... then they compete to woo the voters. On the surface this appears fine... but already the terrible flaw can be seen.

The problem is... this particular system rewards those who seek power. Who... as best I can tell... are the very last people you should really want to have power.

In fact... we'd all be a lot better off if we'd use the election cycle to determine exactly who we should premptively lynch.

The solution?

Nate Style Democracy!

We still hold elections... but no one is allowed to run. All write ins. Most votes win, with no minimums. Anyone caught soliciting votes is forever barred from any form of public office... jailed for no less than 3 years... and umm... flogged on the capital steps, that goes for anyone caught soliciting votes for someone by any means other than word of mouth. And just for fun... the winner should only be eligible for re-election if they veto'd at least 50% of all the bills that came across their desk. Otherwise... 1 term only... ever.

Ahh.. but what if the people who win refuse?

Nope. You don't get to refuse. In fact, the more you don't want the job, the more we need you to have it. George Washington was an excellent president. You know why? Because he pretty much didn't do anything. He would've rather been back at Mount Vernon runnin' his distillery after all.

This system would end up with normal folks getting elected... and pretty much doin' nothing. They'd be filled with spite for being forced to serve... so they'd veto every thing that came across their desk without even reading it. Now see... That's who you'd want re-elected.

See... anyone who wants power is most likely someone who has a pretty serious urge to tell others how they should live. Considering that we're the others in question... we should probably take steps to insure that them what wants that... never gets it.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

What Makes a Man

Is it always doing what needs to be done?

Well... yeah... that.. and a set of testicles.

Seems some folks over at Elena's place have wadded up their panties over what they deem my "limited" view of masculinity. According to them, simply being the spiritual head of the household is qualification enough.

As DrWho says... "Oh I see... so... since I menstrate I'm feminine."

It would be nice if we could pretend that's the truth... but it ain't. See... a feller who dances around in a dress.. wears makeup... primps like a teen aged girl and plays soccer could still be the spiritual leader of his house.

He wouldn't be masculine though.

Just feminists are loathe to apply traditional definitions of what is womanly, the brainwashed modern male is loathe to apply traditional definitions of what is manly.

This is of course predictable... as people tend to dislike standards by which they fail to measure up. "There's nothing wrong with me! It's the rules that are broken!" Sounds like something a 3rd grader might learn in Government Schools.

All this also relates to the most pathetic catch phrase in our language... "Secure enough in his manhood". See... Its not that you're girly... its that you are "secure enough in your manhood" to show how you really are. In otherwords... everyone is really girly... and those who aren't girly aren't manly... they are just aren't man enough to admit that they are girly.

So... In order to be a man you have to wear a dress or get pedicures. Get it?

As amusing as this line of "thought" is... it's by no means the greatest source of entertainment to be found here... No no... The best is the wrathful indignance that this nancy-boys fain when confronted with their nancy-boyness. Yep... those pretty pink panties get all wadded up... now that's hoot right there.

The main point of contention of course is the one requirement that the traditional standards... umm... require... that the nancy-boys just can't handle...

Requirement number 3: Usefullness.

If you can't fix things... fight off the badman... kill bugs... tend to the yard... perform routine maintenence on the vehicles... stick two pieces of metal together with fire... and generally solve problems and make life easier on your female companion... Then what damned good are ya?

Newsflash! A pecker and paycheck don't cut it. Neither does this spiritual leader mess either. She gets her own paycheck these days... peckers can be purchased at various unseemly shops, and all the spiritual leadership any girl needs can be found in all number of places.

Indeed.. a limited view of masculinity eh?

Then again... I'm well aware that 2+2 does not equal 22. So I suppose its because I have a limited view of addition as well.

Unwad Thy Panties! - The Book of Nate, Chapter 1, Verse 1

Wednesday, June 01, 2005


Boy did this movie suck.

I cannot begin to explain how excited we were to see this. First of all… We all know that I am conspiracy nut with some serious paramilitary tendencies… Combine this knowledge with the fact that my two-year-old really digs penguins… and suddenly, a movie featuring a paramilitary squad of penguins bent on breaking out of the Zoo which has conspired to keep them locked away from their beloved Antarctica… and well… Duh. This film was made for us!

Nope. Not even close.

See… unfortunately these penguins aren’t really featured at all. They’re not the stars. Hell… they’re really just a plot device.

The movie is Green Acres. It’s The Beverly Hillbillies. It’s zoo animals from the big city, stuck on a remote island in the wild. Hilarity ensues. Well… not so much. I mean there is hilarity… but only when the penguins are present… and well… you saw all those scenes in the previews. The penquins are just there to get the main characters... the citified zoo animals... to the island of Madacascar... which is strangely deviod of the 18 million people who actually live there

The most disturbing thing about the movie is its schizophrenic nature. It’s 1 part kid flick… 1 part adult flick… and really neither… at the same time. Yeah… I know… I was confused too.

Here are some of the things I really liked:

The Penquins.

and Hear are some things I really hated:

Every thing else.

Schwimmer just sucks. In case you don’t realize David Schwimmer is the ass that played Ross on friends. Coincidentally he also plays Ross here… only this time Ross is a giraffe. He doesn’t even play the funny first season Ross either… It’s the lame caricature of Ross that made you want to shoot everyone associated with the show. You know… the one that started showing up in the 3rd episode of season 1.

Speaking of caricatures… Chris Rock plays a Zebra… well… actually he plays the same damned part he plays in every movie he’s in… except this time is animated… so its drawn as a Zebra… Imagine the Donkey from Shrek.. then take everything good about it, and replace it with a whole bunch of suck. Good. Now add stripes. You know what I think of Chris Rock? It’s like this… John Wayne and Clint Eastwood played the same part in every movie they were ever in. They played themselves. Yo Chris… This just in. You ain’t Clint Eastwood… and you ain’t John Wayne… hell.. best I can tell… you ain’t even Damon Wayans.

Anyway… I could go on for days on why this movie sucked and why you shouldn’t go see it. But let me just remind you of two things that the movie does have going for it… Its very clear on two points…

Penguins Rock.. and Cops really want to shoot people... or Zoo animals...
Repost: The One Party System (because I felt like it)

Few thing evidence the reality of the One Party System like the bend over and take it attitude of the Republicans. I've refrained from talking about the filibuster agreement... because frankly the outcome was so predictable... it just bored the hell out of me.

I cannot for the life of me understand how one can continue to support the Invertibrate Elephant, any more I can see how one could support the Jackass Socialist Workers Party.

How hard is it to see, that regardless of which holds power... Government continues along the same path?

If anything, greater freedoms are lost under the guidance of the Invertibrate Elephants than under the Jackasses. Hrm... Who started the EPA again? The Patriot Act? Yes yes... I know all you Republicans would've been thrilled to support the P.A. if it had been a Jackass wielding its new powers.

The fact is... this country is not run by elected officials. It's run by the mindless army of bureacrats that standardize those officials... educate them... and make sure they go about their business without stirring up to much of a fuss.

One of the built in issues with exchanging the leadership of a representative republic, is the inherent possibilty of rampant instability. One group in power creating... then another coming behind them, and changing direction completely... only to have a third come along and tear it all down to start over. Ask yourself... Why doesn't this happen?

Simply... it's because the beureucrats remain. They take great care to insure continuity.

Abandon all hope of radical change. The system is designed to supress it. The income tax is here to stay. As is the EPA... The Energy Department... The Department of Education... and all other blasphemous evils.

So long as the system remains... there shall be beureacrats with a vested interest in perpetuating it. They shall forever strive to protect their racket... as it's that racket that provides them FatCat status. They cannot allow a program to be cut... because that would eliminate some section of their own... and if one department goes... who's to say that their own department may not be next?

I no longer fret over who is elected and who is not. My dismay is caused not by the choice... but by the fact that once again, the People were duped into the false choice of the Whatsit.

The stone will roll downhill so long as the stone is round. Voting on the color of the stone will never stop it.