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.)

All Natural

Dictionary.com 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.

ATF

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...

Anyway...

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***

Bigfoot

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 BFRO.net 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.

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...

BJW

- 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!!!"

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.

Zero-tolerance

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.

ATF

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.

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

Madagascar

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.

Danica

For the few of you still living in the cave... let me be the first to point out that apparently there is a chick driving in the Indianapolis 500 today. Not only that... The media is busy hyping her as a potential winner... and of course... in the process is piling tons of pressure on the girl.

Now... before I get started let me first say that I have nothing against this chick at all. She's a little hottie... she's pure spitfire, and she can drive like hell. I can't help but like her... not just because she's talented and hot... but because she's obviously the kind of chick that I've always loved... You know the one... the one who'd much rather hangout with the boys than the girls? Not a bull dyke tomboy... but all girl... who just happened to prefer to hang with us. DrWho... Kristy.... Laurie... Joy... all my favorite chicks fit this mold... even X. They all fit the mold.

That said...

Why are they pressuring this chick to win? Is she talented enough? Hell yeah she is... but ummm.. People...

She's a rookie.

We don't put rookies out there at the Indy500 and tell them to win the thing. Ya put them out there and tell them to survive... to learn... to gain the valuable experience so that one day they might eventually win.

In the Court of the Media... at this point, if Danica don't win, she's a failure.

Worse than this are the already prevelant calls for her to jump to NASCAR.

NASCAR? Are you crazy?

Setting aside the fact that Shawna Johnson already drives in the Nextel Cup... though she's never had the equipment to do anything really... What irks me about this media charge is the all the "Teach those Rednecks a Lesson" talk.

I mean... are they tryin' to get the girl killed?

NASCAR and Indy are barely the same sport. If anything... Open Wheels racing has been relegated to the Minor Leagues folks. That may sound like blasphemy... but thats the plain truth. Drivers are making their repuation in Indy cars, and then jumping to NASCAR to cash in, and race with the Big Boys.

There's no bumpin' and grindin' in Indy cars.

The Big Media attidude of showin' up the locals... is just exact attitude that Danica has never displayed... and it's their attitude, and their accusations, that could translate to the girl spending a few nights in the hospital.

But hey.. let's not jump the gun here... She ain't won Indy yet... and frankly its insane for anyone to honestly expect her to. She's a rookie. She's by definition inexperienced.

So how about we stop worryin' about what ain't between her legs, and instead consider what ain't between her ears.

If the girl runs in the top 10... That's a huge accomplishment... and Top5 would damned near be a miracle. I'm rooting for her. I just think people should be a little more realistic.

ATF

It's a sad day boys. It's official... Res done went Kimber on us. I for one couldn't be more disappointed in the boy... well... I could... I mean... goin' Kimber ain't quite as bad as goin' pillow-biter... but hell... its the first step. Next thing you know he's gonna be carryin' a Glock... and we all know where that leads... Hell... it'll only be a matter of weeks before he's on his knees in the back room of some adult bookstore.

In other... more upbeat news CZ purchased Dan Wesson. Now WellDigger personally wet himself when he learned this... but personally I see it as a good thing. CZ is a company that ain't goin' anywhere. They bring stability and deep pockets. Two things that Dan Wesson has really never had before. I would've blogged on this sooner, but I wanted to see some real evidence that quality wasn't gonna drop. It hasn't. CZ obviously wanted into the 1911 market... well... Buyin' Dan Wesson is one helluva way to get there. I don't know where y'all stand on CZ, but personally I love 'em. The CZ-75 is easily one of the top 3 most copied firearms in the world... maybe second only to the 1911. Their guns are accurate, reasonably priced, ultra reliable... and innovative. What else do you want?

No.. besides that p99.

Anyway... You Dan Wesson fans keep your panties on. Sky ain't fallin' Chicken Little.

Now if you pardon me... I'm off to smoke this here Torano. Just me an ma' here tonight... so I'll be behavin' myself for the most part... You're welcome to stop buy the gargage... that's where you'll find me least ways. No beverage options declared tonight... spied a white merlot from beringer that I thought I might give a shot... Call it a fetish... I ain't proud. Dunno.

What about y'all?

***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***

Should You Homeschool?

Yes. Yes you should. I don't care how good you think your local school system is. They all suck. All of them. They suck because they were designed to suck.

Read and learn Grasshopper.

It's with great amusement that I read of whining parents in Gwinnett County, Georgia... who were all in a tissy over a local school's pass/fail policy. Seems the kids all pass or fail the whole year based on one test... and when the kids figured this out... duh... they stopped doing their homework.

Now of course the parents are all mad at their kids...

You idiots. You're kids are the smart ones. Save them while you can.

Excellent News!

It appears that the much beloved, and demonstratably hot, Penciloid has started her own blog. Get over there and check the place out!

Tennessee Waltz

So 2 years ago, the TBI, FBI, and US Attorney's Office started a fake electronics recycling company called E-Cycle. They used undercover agents posing as company reps to approach several Tennessee lawmakers. They got laws proposed and sponsored by Lawmaking big wigs, in an obvious quid pro quo.

The fun starts really with Ford... who apparently has made serious threats against federal witnesses. Of course... to tennesseans this is not a suprise.

There is still wide spectulation about the identity of the 7th suspect. Also, we should note that this is unrealted to the on-going TennCare corruption investigation... and of course... the Fords are involved in that one too.

The FBI has left the capital... apparently the person they were looking for wasn't there. They actually searched the chambers.

*** UPDATE ***
The word is now that several more arrests are expected... search warrants are being served all over the state, in Knoxville, Chattanooga, Nashville, and of course Memphis. A total of 11 or 12 arrests are expected. Several local sources are reporting this.

A Good Day In Tennessee

Let us be clear... Anyday that starts with 4 lawmakers being arrested... particularly when the majority are Democrats... That kids... is a good day!

These 4 fine individuals have been arrested: Sen. Ward Crutchfield, D-Chattanooga, Sen. John Ford, D-Memphis, Sen. Kathryn Bowers, D-Memphis, and Rep. Chris Newton, R-Cleveland.

In fact... as I type this... The Senate is currently in session... and most of those folks are lookin' around tryin' to figure out who ain't there... and if there are more arrests to come.

A press conference is scheduled for 11:00am CST... but the word is the arrests are related to violations of the Hobbs Act.

You should be aware that this could definately be "Hillbilly Mafia" related... as the Mayor of Memphis... Willie Harrington... has had his name tossed about today as well.

Interesting times kids...

Stay tuned.

***UPDATE*** The FBI has the Tennessee State Capital surrounded. No one is allowed in or out. Tennessee is currecntly under seige folks. My dad just crossed the state line and he reports that there are 20 state troopers at the line... and apparently its happening all over the state. Troopers are stationed at the stateline on both I-24 and I-65. Draw your own conclusions folks. My gut says they are tryin' to prevent legislators from fleeing the state.

NateMail: Hillbillies and Rednecks

Mr axes: Now you Southron folks (or Midwesterners), question for you... does the term Hillbilly carry any negative connotation, to you, with it?

The short answer to this question is no. There is no negative connotation with the term. Like the term "redneck", "hillbilly" has become sort of a badge of pride for folks who resent the ever increasing urban influence in our culture.

Generally, we think of hillbillies as the easy-going types... old fella sittin' barefoot on his porch... mindin' his own business... with a shotgun leaned up against the wall next to him...

Where as a redneck would be the easy-going type... old fella sittin barefoot on his porch... mindin' his own business... with a shotgun across his lap.

The difference is subtle... but important.

Rednecks are more in-your-face about their disdain for city folk, city ways, and damned yankees. Hillbilly's come off as more passive agressive, and far more benevolent.

Think about Uncle Jesse... He's a great example of a hillbilly.

Rednecks

If you've not yet found your way over to Fred's to read about Rednecks, and the virtues there-of, I suggest you get up off your hindlegs and do so now... or at least... click the link.

I remember back after 9/11... there was a noticable attitude change about men in America. It makes sense too, as all those invertabrates in New York had to sit and watch... totally helpless... totally useless... while the Men came downtown in trucks to put the place back together.

It's quite a wake-up call when you finally come face-to-face with the realities of the world. If I can build a house... then should I need to, I can build a house.

If you push forms for a living... or some other trivial garbage... when the time comes... you're just balast.

Always remember... when you hear someone slamming on rednecks... they ain't actually slamming on a small segment of society.

They're slamming on men.

And if you're one of those boys who is secure in his knowledge that those redneck jokes ain't aimed at him... well... You may as well go buy your pretty pink panties and make that pedicure appointment.

Holy Cow

What?

You kids are still comin' around? Unbelievable.

I know I ain't been postin' much... but hey... I just can't abide this dial-up crap. Vintage 1995 technology... screw this.

Thankfully I finally talked Joy into bringin' over a wireless card.

ARGH!!

We're Pirates baby! I swear.. Does anyone know how to use the security on their wireless routers? I'm sittin' here surfin' on somebody's bandwidth... I have no idea whose though...

Oh wait... I suppose now I'm influencing Christians to steal eh? I mean... The Bible is very clear that we shouldn't steal right? Oh dear... I'm being a bad influence... whatever shall I do....

I had somethin' to say.... but I've got some 101 and RC... and well... whatever it was just doesn't seem so damned important now... ah well... Screw it. I should be home directly... My new tire is bein' installed as I type. So I reckon I'll get outta Joy's hair tomarrow. She's been a helluva hostess though...

Anyway... Thanks for stayin' around y'all. I appreciate it.

ATF

Believe it or not... it's 7:00pm on a Friday and I am not yet drunk. Amazingly... I've not yet actually had any alchohol what-s0-ever.

What's the world coming to?

Fear not. The Sky Ain't Fallin' Chicken Little. I'll be tossin' a couple shots back shortly.

So what are we into tonight? Sounds like ol' Dave Goodyear is into the shine... hehehe... gonna be a big night over there! Pour ol' JAC's old lady won't let him drink at home... so he's probly sneakin' off to the barn to sip a little Turkey. In the meantime, Darlin' Joy is gonna be setup nicely with some Hypnotiq and Dew... Personally I wouldn't be caught dead with the stuff... but hey... I ain't got a vagina... Vox on the other hand...

I'm gonna run out to the package store to pick up somethin' tastey. May get WhiskeyGirl's favorite Russel's Reserve. May stick with Makers.... Just never know.

Otherwise you'll find me out on the back deck smokin' my C.A.O. Dominican... Easy draw... full bodied cigar... tough to beat for the money...

I thought I should take a minute to cover the playlist... particularly since its still bein' used as the soundtrack for this evenin'. Not all of the tunes tonight of course... when you're not on 2 wheels... you can only stand so much Motley Crue... I dropped some hints in the tellin'... I'm interested to see if any of you guys were suprised after ya see the list.

1) Pickin' Wildflowers: Kieth Anderson
2) Dierks Bentley: Whole Lot of Leavin'
3) Metallica: For Whom the Bell Tolls
4) Motley Crue: Girls Girls Girls
5) Snoop and RATM: Bounce
6) Motley Crue: S.O.S.
7) RATM: Killin' in the Name Of
8) Motley Crue: Kickstart my Heart
9) Figure You Out: Nickleback
10) Motley Crue: Wildside
11) Saliva: Click Click Boom
12) Shooter Jennings: Fourth of July
13) George Straight: Cowboys like Us
14) Shinedown: Simple Man

Hehehe... so a few of these things are not like the others eh? Number 13 really don't fit does it? I simply cannot ride without Cowboys Like Us. Just ain't in me. As for the prevailance of the Crue.... well... what can I say... I was at Kristy's when I loaded up the MP3 player... and she has a Crue fetish. But you didn't hear that from me. Hey... admitting "Kickstart My Heart" was on there was a whole lot easier than coppin' to that Nickleback crap. What can I say... Joy ain't got the best selection of MP3's on this laptop... in fact... there's none.. not one... so I'm screwed here.

Did I mention I'm usin' an F'ing dialup connection? This is killin' me.

As for guns... the best thing I have to report... is the fact that I'll be at the largest gun show in the state of Georgia tomarrow. You can expect a report.

Anyway... I'm alone.... just me and the dogs here... Smokin' and drinkin'.. smokin' and drinkin'.... Hell throw in Jesus and by God now we'd a song! Maybe work a train in there... and something about Mama... Hrm... We'll see how this all works out. Probly have to send someone else for the booze... dammit.

***Standard Friday Postin' Rules Apply***

Storming Mount Blood

At the Georgia border I pulled off 129 for a little pit stop. The planned route called for 129 all the way to Gainesville... and the little burg of Blairsville that I found myself in looked like a good spot to stretch my legs. I pulled into the little gas station... Picture perfect for the New South. Plenty of modern pumps... but there were still 4 rockin' chairs in the front of the store, and 2 were occupied.

I dismounted... said my howdies to the locals and answered the now standard questions about the bike. Like I said... Rock Star.

I picked up my provisions and meandered up to the counter... after I paid the lady, then I decided to play dumb and ask directions to Gainseville. I do this sometimes... just because I prefer to take the roads the locals take. They live here. They know the good routes. She confirmed what I already knew...

"Just follow 129 south all the way... Take ya straight to Gainesville... over Mount Blood."

?

Now... that got my attention.

"Mount Blood?"

"Yup... bout an hour south of here. The Mountain takes a couple every year."

I played dumb one more time..

"Couple what?"

"Lives."

Ok then. 4 folks have died on the Dragon already... and now apparently I've got another killer before me. What a ride.

Armed with this new info I decided to give the King a good once over. I checked and double checked the tire pressure. Tipped my hat to a couple 10 year olds who were starin'... and mounted up.

North Georgia was beautiful... Green... Rugged... Just like east Tennessee. I was fallin' in love to the music of of 16 valves per cylinder. I danced through the mountains without a care. The road was excellent... the scenery was spectacular... and God was smiling.

Not long after a quick jaunt through a little town square I found King's nose pointing a little higher... We had found the mountain. The first hint of something out of the ordinary went flying by in the other direction... a 10-speed bicycle... had to be doing 80mph... hrmm...

The two-lane widened to 3... two-lanes up... one down... and now came the switchbacks. Not tightly like the Dragon... We're not talkin' prom queen tight here... no... these were more like that dirty little girl down the street... Not the prettiest thing in town... but you know the type... Built for Speed... and Eager to Please.

Where the Dragon requires you to brake down to 15 mph... these were wider... with more room for error... more forgiving... more.... more fun? No... not more fun... but... more something... Maybe its more relaxed? You can enjoy it a little more because you're not on the thin edge of the knife the whole time... or maybe its just in my head.

Through S after S... switchback after switchback... I suddenly find myself being tailgated.... by a minivan. Are you kidding me? How was this possible? Was this idiot just dying to die?

I was riding in the far right lane... and I was flyin'... but this cat was on me like stink. It just made no sense... I let up.. and let the moron go by. Didn't take long to see what the deal was. The idiot was straightening out every turn... using everybit of both uphill lanes... and more often than not drifting over into the on-coming lane. Moron. No wonder the mountain takes a couple every year.

Even with his idiocy and my bike loaded down I could've dusted that fool... but why? These are roads. It's not a track. I didn't come here to roll down a hill or splatter my guts all over a tree.

Of course.. as expected.. for all his bravado blasting up the hill... he lost his nerve coming down. The "suspension" on the minivan was swaying all over and after saving itself once, when I was certain it was about to flip... the moron finally got the message and backed way down... but after that I decided that the risk of riding around behind the idiot was worse that the brief burst it would take to ditch him...

So... I'll take option two please...

He was no longer straightening out the turns... so in the next S I made the move. Lean hard left entering the turn... let the King drift out as I drop the hammer. King stands himself up just in time for me to lean into the right turn exiting the S and leave the minivan to steadily shrink in the mirror.

I found myself wishing I had a passenger... then wishing I didn't have all this luggage... then wishing I had more time... I found myself wishing I could just stay at this mountain.. just ride it over and over again... Ah but it wasn't to be... Gainesville was up ahead... and with it Interstate 985.. then 85... then on to Swanee and Darlin' Joy's townhouse... my wife... my boys... mmm.. and bourbon... yes...

Bourbon...

Speakin' of Bourbon...

What day is it?

Dragon Fight

Tuesday... 1:25pm... 11 miles... 318 curves.

As the light turned green, I lean King in to the left... and followed the Mythical Highway 129 South. We were followin' her all the way to Georgia... but the Dragon lie in Smokies before us.

King... that's what I call him now. It fits. With the new metalic black paint... the red tires... and the wicked red C.O.B.R.A. symbol on the windshield. King snakes are some the largest snakes in Dixie... and they are known to eat lesser slithery types. Yes... King Indeed.

Now... the road leading into those mountains gives little hint to the chaos that awaits. Its a smooth, easily flowing two lane country road. "Don't mind little ol' me." it might say. But I've been here before... No foolin' this ol' boy.

The first real hint of what lay ahead is the ever increasing frequency with which motorcycles are seen. Further down... the road is still calm, but the occasional S curves are showing up now. We take them at the standard posted-speed... well... ahem... give or take. We pass Fourth Creek... which is odd... because we never passed First, Second, or Third Creek... but hey...

Now we're at our typical country road cruising speed... roughly 80mph. Nothing exciting... just movin' on down the road... thinking of the battle that I know is coming.

Another hard S curve. Coming out of the sweeping left I notice the first motorcycle specific tourist trap. I thought about stopping... but the new tunes that Kristy had loaded up on the MP3 player were a little to inspiring for that... Kickstart my heart indeed.

King is raring to go. I can feel it beneath me... begging... pleading... It was something I knew I had to resist... today... the bike just wanted to go. But not here... not now... I was travelling... I had no time to stop and make a donation to the Tree of Shame.

The curves were picking up. I knew the Dragon was close... A steady stream of motorcycles now poured by heading north. It's Tuesday... People work on Tuesday...

WARNING. LANE CROSSING KILLS

Now it ain't every day you see a sign directed specificly at motorcycles... and this is one that I knew for a fact was worth payin' attention to. Four people have died on this road already this year.

Up ahead I see it... the first insane right turn.... number 1 of 318... The low slung groove of Rage Against the Machine came to a screaching halt as I reached in my pocket and silenced the tune. No time to screw around here. This is no movie. The only soundtrack is the 998cc's between your legs. You consentrate... you give this road every ouce of your attention... JAC bit here just last year. I couldn't afford to make a similar mistake.

The Dragon is a series of extremely hard right turns, followed by some lazy S curves, then a big left sweeper... then the pattern repeats... over and over and over... with slight variations.

The first hard rights I found myself pushing King way down into the corner.. entering way to early. When I would hammer it to pull out of the turn, he would drift ever closer to the dreaded center line. Repeat after me. We do not cross the center line.

I was making the standard rookie mistake of a two-point turn... you turn hard at the begining, then settle.. then hard at the end to fix your line... this is pretty much how average joe rides... but I know better.

After few I diagnose the problem... and go with my typical "Kenny Roberts Method" where I slow down, and set up the turn really well... so I can make a hard 1-point turn, then use the King's power to drive out of it. That's that... now we're flyin'.

No one in front... no one behind... No pressure.

I pulled off at the mid-point lookout... just to see who's there... I was happy to find that someone had burned a smiley face in the pavement with their rear tire.

Only at the Dragon.

I finished the Dragon... kicked sand its face... and pulled on into the Tail of the Dragon Motorcycle Resort... the home of the Tree of the Shame. Now the one bad thing about this place... is that when your normally a rockstar... here... a guy on a sportbike is just a guy on a sportbike... I mean... everyone has one.

But here... apparently I was still a rock star. See... not everyone has the King.

A crowd of folks walked around King... Diggin' the tires... wondering allowed at exactly what kind of bike he was. Hey... when the Aprilia boys are talking about your bike... you're doin' ok. You know what I'm sayin?

Anyway... I grabbed some t-shirts, new shades, and hydrated up... then it was time to mount up and hit the road again...

The Dragon was down... but little did I know... I'd be crossing Mount Blood before the sun went down...

To Be Continued...

Doc Holliday

"He was the most skillful gambler, and the nerviest, fastest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever saw." - Wyatt Earp, who apparently knew a few things about deadly men.

When old men and young boys talk about the Old West... few characters dominate the conversation like Doc... the orginal fatalist.

"Live like you were dyin' " is a cute phraze sung by a manicured pretty-boy pretending to be a cowboy. But Doc... Doc Holliday was dyin'... and he lived like it. He came to the sensible conclusion that for a man damned to a slow, painful, degrading death... A quick end should be preferable.

Would that we could see that so clearly today.

It's amazing what a man who has no fear of death can do. Every enemy of the Earps that died at the OK Corral was shot at least one time by Doc. Johnny Tyler pulled a gun on Doc in a saloon, and before he could shoot.... Doc snatched out his blade and disembowelled him. Apparently bringin' a knife to a gun fight wasn't such a bad deal for ol' Doc.

What isn't told about Doc is that at least 3 times he tried to settle down... in fact he even hung out his shingle a few times... returning to his previous profession as a dentist.

Ordinary life just couldn't hold the man's interest though... and besides... young punks kept wanting to get shot.

When I think about all the stories.. I wonder... just who was the best? Doc? Wyatt? What about the James boys? On the surface it may be a simpe... as we all have our favorites... but... aw hell... ya know... I wouldn't really wanna know the answer... even if I could.

Me and ol' Jim are gonna need somethin' to talk about when we finaly settle our bourbon and pistol disputes.

Till then... Bookers... Springfield... and Doc Holliday says I.

ATF

It's Friday kids... you know what that means? That's right. Time to wadded up all those worries and flush'em away with fire and water... or... more likely... as I am... With a Cuban Label cigar and a Margarita that's more like a tall glass of tequila.

Like the Dude says... F*** it.

I know I know... you expect better of me... but I just ain't got it today. WhiskyGirl is up here to help DrWho fly South with my boys. I won't see any of them until a week from Saturday, and frankly... the thought has me more than a little nausiated. Jeb's nappin'... otherwise I wouldn't even be here right now. Last few moments are to precious to waste on a damn computer. Piss on them what makes light of it.

Don't feel sorry for ol' Nate though... Fact is... I'm spending next week in Myrtle Beech. Oh yeah.. it's a tough life ain't it? Me and the boys are ridin' down monday... and I plan on layin' drunk on the beach for at least 3 days. So while you're at work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, do try to feel sorry for me... as I could well be suffering from a hang over or mild sunburn.

Say Kristy... You ain't got a job either... You wanna a two-wheeled ride to the beach for a few days?

Hey... don't get to jealous... it's bike week. That means that the place will be filled with fat guys on harleys. Not my idea of good company. I'm just hoping enough locals come out to improve the... umm... ahem.... scenery.

Say Will... Do ya have a bike?

Damn this cigar is good. And no.. I ain't tellin' ya any more... it's a Cuban Label... that's all you get to know. Now where was I?

Oh yeah... the beach... You girls don't get your bikini's wadded up either. I may enjoy the sights... but I'll behave myself. The little beach skanks will be hot.. but none of them have earn a shot at the title.

Hrmm.. this talk of riding has me thinkin' of tunes... what's the deal with arena rock and motorcycles? I hate Motley Crue and always have... but I'll be damned if I don't love 'em when I'm on the bike.. and I'd love to see Nickleback boiled alive in peanut oil... but hey... throw on "Figured you out" while I'm on the Phantom and an involuntary smile creeps across my face.

And now I'm wonderin' about what's goin' on at the old blog next week... Probly not much. JAC and Will are gonna have to pick up the slack. In fact.. I may well give them access... I wonder how they'd do if they actually had an audiance.... hehehe.. sorry boys... I couldn't resist. Personally I'd love to see either of them submit something to Vox for a saturday post. Fact is they both kick ass. If you don't read them... well... your loss. That's a fact.

Speakin' of ass kickin'... I'd say it's about time to wrap this ATF thing up... so let's get to the guns eh?

If you've any sense at all you've been to JAC's and learned that he purchased a new supa-bad 1911. A Thompson 1911 to be specific. That's the one... same folks that made the TommyGun. He claims it's shooting .75 inch. Please remember too.. that's 3/4 of an inch by our standards... meaning the two shots that hit furthest apart... not like those girls from the Magazines measure. At last report she was still havin' ejection issues... but that's not uncommon for a new gun. She's just gettin broken it. I'm glad to report however that my PT-101 was reliable right out of the box. But hey... That's why I carry it... and we don't expect that sort of thing...it's just nice when it happens.

I suppose it wouldn't be fair to not report that WhiskyGirl in fact liked Russel's Reserve better than she liked the Bookers. So there ya have it. Chicks like Wild Turkey. Draw your own conclusions.

This is by no means a knock on WhiskyGirl, whom I love dearly. She even pointed out that since I let her try that Turkey she has relegated her Canadian Piss... I mean Royal Crown... to mixing with coke. I for one don't know why anyone would waste a perfectly good coke with that stuff.. but to each her own. Maybe she was mixing it with Big K? We should give her the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway... I've got a good buzz... the suns out... I've already been out on two-wheels.. and I have a female companion... it's hard to complain. Y'all have a good time out there... Drink 'em, Smoke 'em... and should it be necessary... Smoke them too.

Drink: Margarita
Smokes: Cuban Label
Tunes: Kris Kristopherson, "The Profit, Chapter 33"
Company: WhiskyGirl (my other hot sister-in-law) and Jeb.

***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***

The Coming Doom

Somewhere in a lonely hotel room there's a guy startin' to realize that eternal fate has turned its back on him... it's two a.m.

Interestingly enough... despite Herr Greenspan's talk of inflation... we see that in last few weeks the Fed has once again been pumping out money like the black dog of deflation is growling at the door.

They boosted M-3 another 19.1 billion this past week (a 10.36% annualized rate of growth). For the past two weeks, they have increased M-3 a whopping $73.2 billion (that's a 19.97 percent annualized growth rate). Over the past six weeks, M-3 is up $105.2 billion (a 9.59% rate of growth). Oh yeah... they are clearly pissing themselves with fear over this inflation deal. Be sure and check that link Jamie. The charts will give you wood.

Remeber... The Fed is the organization that claims that the Great Depression (tm) was caused by a failure to print enough money. I mean... they write that in their manual. That's like reading the substitution property of mathmatics can be applied to sports in a bookie's guide.

And just in case we have any Dave Ramsey fans left... here you will find an excellent little editorial on just exactly why real estate is not where you want to be. Things are about to Pop folks, and it ain't gonna be pretty. More charts there to Jamie.

Please remember that what some of us fear is far worse than what happened in the 30's. An overnight crash is violent.. but it's like tearing off a bandaid. It hurts, but it's short and over with. I've a feeling we're in for a long slow decline over the course of a decade or more. There could well be a few catastophic collapses in various markets like Real Estate and Banking... but other than that I don't expect massive sudden blood-letting.

But hey... no one has a crystal ball. No one knows exactly what is going to happen. All we know is the basic framework of rules. What goes up, must come down.

Read your Bible, and use it as a guide for your financial life. Save and Give. Save and Give.

F*** Me-So Mee-Shell

So little Miss Malkin wants us to thank a cop today. yeah.. I'll be sure to call up the cop in Murfreesboro, TN who shot a 78 year old man, because he didn't stop his car when he was told to. Never mind that mechanics later determined that the accelerater had been stuck. The cop said, "The man was gonna hit me. He made eye contact with me." Of course he was... which explains why the accelerator was stuck.

I'll also be sure to thank another cop in that same small town. A female cop this time, who shot a woman at a gas station. The woman was in her car... the cop was standing in front of the car, demanding she exit the vehicle. The woman refused. The cop shot her, and now she... like the old man, are both dead. The cop said, "She was trying to hit me. She wouldn't make eye-contact with me." When the woman's body was removed from the car, it was found to still be in reverse.

Reverse.

Now let me get this straight... the old man made eye-contact... and that was interprated as a threat... the woman did not make eye-contact... and that was also interprated as a threat.

Listen carefully people. If you encounter a cop, you better just go ahead and assume he's a nutcase looking for an excuse to kill you. Because frankly, he is. He's probably scared to death, and scared people are dangerous as hell. If he's not scared... then chances are he's just that damned mean, and you don't want to screw around with him either.

So Miss Malkin... Here's a member of the non-elite media... just the little old BloggerBlaster... and I say unto thee:

Pucker up and kiss my law-abiding citizen ass.

I'll thank a Cop when Cops stop killin' people for no damned reason, or better yet, start leavin' us the hell alone.

Now piss off.

Bad Joke Wednesday

- At Heathrow airport today, an individual, later discovered to be a public school teacher, was arrested trying to board a flight while in possession of a compass, a protractor and a graphic calculator.

Authorities believe he is a member of the notorious al-gebra movement.He is being charged with carrying Weapons of Math Instruction.

-What is Count Dracula's favorite landmark?
The Vampire State Building.

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

- What kind of coat does a vampire wear in the rain?
A wet one.

- What style of art was preferred by the Third Reich?
Post-Imprussianist

-Murphy's wife told him he should put a pair of clean socks on every day.
By Friday he couldn't get his boots on.

- A small grocery store had just installed some new juice machines, and everybody who worked there was excited about who would be chosen to run them. One employee in particular, a grocery bagger, was determined to get the job. He went to the manager and made his case, telling his boss how excited he was about the new juicers, and how badly he wanted to be the one chosen to run them. His boss turned him down.
"But why?" protested the hapless young man.

"Son," replied his boss, "Everybody knows that baggers can't be juicers."

F*** the Police

Non-compliance is not an option. That's what it's come to. A simple speeding ticket results in a woman who is 8 months pregnant being tazed and a arrested. Why? Because she refused to sign a speeding ticket.

But... she must've gotten mad and taken a swing at the police right? She assaulted them!

Nope. She simply refused to exit her car when ordered to. When they tried to push her out of the car, she simply held on to the steering wheel.

So out comes the tazer.

Of course... I suppose we should be thankful right? I suppose we're to assume if they didn't have that tazer, they would've had to simply beat her senseless with their nitesticks or maglites. See... you need to remember... you're not being punished for the crime specificly, because you haven't been convicted yet. What you're being punished for is disobeying the police. When a cop says jump you say "how high?" Get it? Otherwise you better get used to the idea of pain.

I don't know where you stand on this cop thing... but I can tell you for certain that I've had enough of it. Piss on them. I used to contribute to the Fraternal Order of Police in both Tennessee and West Virginia, but I stopped last year. You wanna know how much my attitude has changed?

Those cops showed her that tazer before they used it on her. That constitutes a threat. A cop pulls that shit with me, or mine, we're gonna go. Plain and simple.

Tazing and arresting a woman over not signing a ticket. I can't believe that crap.

THAT is the difference between a law officer and peace officer. A peace officer wouldn't care if she didn't sign the damned thing. He certainly wouldn't disrupt the peace by causing such a ruckus as all this. But a law officer? He doesn't care about the peace. He only cares about the law, and the law says you sign the damned ticket or else.

So that's it for ol' Nate. No more signing tickets. They tell me to sign it, I'm drawing a straight line in the signature box. If anyone asks me if that's my signature, I'm gonna answer honestly.

"Nope".

And for the record... I want to make sure my position is clear on the confrontation aspect of this...

If that woman had gotten scared and shot one of those cops before he tazed her, I wouldn't lose a minute's sleep over it, and I'd do my damnedest to get on that jury and find her innocent.

This has gone to far. Its time that law abiding citizens start stomping some cop ass.

*** UPDATE ***

Just in case that's not enough for you... Perhaps this will also help change your attitude. Please note that while no weapon was found in or around the vehicle, cops still emptied 120 rounds into it... well... it... and the walls and windows of various surrounding homes... and apparently into each other as well. But hey, this nutcase led them on a chase... with speeds up to 35 miles per hour! He had it comin!

Gold, Canned Soup, and the Coming Doom

NateMail: Hudson has been exposed to Dave Ramsey, and wants my take.

Myth: Gold is a good investment and will cover me if the economy collapses.

Truth: Gold has a poor track record and isn't used when an economy collapses.

He goes on to say that "gold is a lousy investment with a long track record of mediocrity" and "gold is not used when economies fail." He says that historyshows that in economic collapses people revert back to a black market or barter system and that gold loses nearly all value. His solution is that it would be better to invest in real estate or canned soup.

First let me start by saying that Dave Ramsey is a good guy, and his ideas on being debt free, and financial security are pretty much spot on. That however, hardly means that he's right on everything else.

Before you take his advice on real estate you should be aware that his real estate investments have lead him multiple bankruptcies. His idea's on mortgages are simply stupid, and amount to giving away money, as they ignore the most important variable... i.e. the interest rate at which the money can be borrowed.

I'm not throwing Dave under the bus here for no reason though. I just want you know that he's by no means an authority beyond question. For that matter, no one is.

But on to the question...

The belief that Gold is a poor investment in hard times, stems from the idea that gold will be impracticle. Like Bill and Gregg pointed out, you cain't eat it. They'll also tell ya that it will be awefully hard to exchange for goods.

While neither of these are incorrect, they certainly don't tell the tale. As cash loses its value, the cash value of gold will sky-rocket. This means that while everyone else's bank account has become increasingly worthless, your gold has stayed the same. So while you can't go to the grociery store and buy bread with it, you certainly can cash it in. Don't let anyone tell you that gold dealers will suddenly disappear.

Even when FDR confiscated gold, it was still around. Though the lessons are learned now.. so lots of folks who horde the stuff make no mention of it, and always pay cash for it.

Tangible assets like Gold are a vehicle for saving your money. See... it just doesn't do you any good to save your cash, if that cash is rapidly being destroyed by inflation.

But what about investing in something like real estate? In this particular case... that's about the dumbest thing you can do. This is a Real Estate Bubble for crying out loud. Remember... By LOW, sell high. Not the other way around. Real estate prices are insane right now.

In fact, if I were in real estate... and well... I kinda am... I would be looking to get out... and I kinda am. Once the bubble pops, you can get back in, and get back in cheap. But hey... it's idea like this that lead ol' Dave to bankruptcy. I mean hell... if he knew that much about investing, he'd still be doin' it, instead of making his money by talkin' on the radio and sellin' books.

Back to surviving the Coming Doom for a second. I don't mean to imply that you should sock everything you own into Gold or silver or something. You should have a store of cash... but only an emergency store. You should have 6 months of food. You should have water. You should have guns. A good garden... or better still, a working farm is the best bet.

Gold alone isn't gonna save your butt. You have to do that yourself. But the infuriating thing about these types of debates, is that no one is claiming that it will. We're saying, it's an important part of the equation, but not the whole equation.

The self-reliant are the ones who do well in hard times. You're best investment, and best protection, is learning to be that.

Question of the Day

Better use of Convicted Fellons! Should we give them over to ammunition makers for testing? We'd finally know for sure just what rounds are effective and which aren't!

Discuss.

Indoctrination

When I think about the indoctrination of the South, the truely terrifying thing is its success. The goal was to fill Southrons with self-loathing, guilt, and give them an inferiority complex, and it couldn't have gone more perfectly.

Miseducated southrons, otherwise inteligent people, will look you in the eye and claim that there is no way the South could survive economically in today's world. Point out to them that as of last year, if the South were to reinstate the C.S.A., it would instantly have the world's third largest GDP behind only the remaining US, and China, and you tend to get uncomfortable laughs or blank stares.

See, they've never thought about it.

You may get them to offer up various responses at this point, but my favorite is the one that claims that our economy would be to dependent on that of the remaining USA. Not only is this not true, it's not even a valid theory. Neither the Mexican, nor Canadian economies could withstand a major collapse in the USA, yet they are seperate countries governing themselves. This is ignoring the fact as well, that givin the Southron take on limited government, its reasonable to assume that many, if not most, of the businesses that have fled the US would return to the South, because of its low taxes and tort reform. In short, we could over take the remaining US in a matter of a decade or so.

How can one look at the little countries of the baltics, and think that a country with as much wealth and industry as the South wouldn't be able to survive... nay thrive?

The worst response though... the sickening one... is the one that comes more often. It stems from the same place as the first, but its more honest. The fact is, lots of our Southrons just don't think we're smart enough to work out that whole self-determination deal. They really believe we're just stupid backwards hicks, and the only reason we have any success at all is via our association with the educated and industrious North.

Just typin' that makes me want to puke.

In 1861, the South adopted a flag that only varied from the colonial flag in the number of stars in the blue field. Why?

Because they believed they had more of a right to it than the remaining US did. After all, Southrons wrote the constitution, funded the War of Indepence, wrote and signed the Declaration of Independence, and all with the help of roughly a handful of Yankees.

Not only were the principles on our side.... well of course they were. Those principles were ours to start with.

There is good news though. Every year the University of North Carolina polls people in the South on their thoughts on secession. Every year it comes in around 15% in favor of leaving. It spiked under Clinton at almost 30%.

It's indeed good news... especially when you consider that the US's War of Independence was fought with the approval of less than 25% of the population.

I Don't Fly

I don't fly because just walking into an airport gives me the creeps. That syrupy sweet female voice on the over-head talking about FAA regulations is something far more Orwellian than Orwell ever drempt up.

I swear when they line us all up for the death walk, it will be to the sounds of a sultry 23-year-old vixen.

No where will you be treated so much like a criminal than at an airport. In fact, criminals are treated in many cases with a great deal more respect.

Did you know that lighters, and strike-anywhere matches are now forbidden in carry-ons? Lighters cannot even be packed in your checked luggage. Butane ya know... Dangerous stuff!

Toe-nail clippers! Don't you dare let us catch you with toe-nail clippers! Those things are deadly.

I refuse to subject myself to this sort of stupidity.

When I drive... I leave when I want. I take what I want. I go the route I want. I stop when I want... and it's cheaper! In June we'll be travelling from Morgantown,WV to San Antonio, Tejas. Never once did we consider flying.

I can't understand how someone can continue to fly under these circumstances. I mean... where's your line? If they bent you all over a table in the back and had a 200 pound Mammasan work you over with a strap-on before you were allowed to board... would you still fly then? Something tells me there would be letters of outrage... and horror stories of the mammasan who refuse to lube it...but that's about it.

The First Saturday in May

I see this goin' one of a few ways...

1) Bellamy Road Wins. He is just that much better than everyone else, and leads gate to wire. It's possible. Not only that... it's possible that the horse has plenty of meaness to go along with those speed numbers as well. He may not mind at all running from behind. Just cause he ain't done it, it don't mean he cain't.

2) Bellamy Road doesn't win. At least one multiple horse owner will sacrifice a colt on a suicide attack on him. Once he's out... then the real race starts.

I can see Bellamy Road doin' it... but I just don't think it's gonna happen. If it does, he'll probably be our first legitimate threat to win the Triple Crown since Charasmatic. He's not my bet though.

Nope.. at 5-2 he's just not a good bet. No Thanks.

Nate's Pick: Sun King.

Nate's Tri-fecta: Sun King, Afleet Alex, Bandini

DrWho's Pick: High Limit.

High Limit? Hey... I laughed when she picked Charasmatic. I don't laugh anymore.

Jeb's Pick: Afleet Alex

Eli's Pick: Bellamy Road.

Eli says... He's just that damned good.

Well.. it's that time boys n' girls. Who's your pick?

*** UPDATE ***

Giacomo! What a race! What a frickin' horse! Holy Cow! This is gonna sound like BS, but y'all can ask my wife, before the race when they showed Giac a couple times I kept sayin' how much I loved that horse. He's gorgeous.

Anyway... that's why its be the Greatest Two-Minutes in Sports, and its also why they make so much Whiskey in Kentucky!

Books

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?
A little secret here... I hate Bradbury. But... if this really is just a poorly worded way of asking: what fictional universe would you most like to inhabit? The answer is indeed simple; Forgotten Realms.

*** UPDATE ***
Its occured to me that this question is actually asking, if you were in 451, what one book would you memorize? None. No way I'd be spending time trying to save books by memorization. I'd be spending my time loading ammo, and killing firemen. Violence is the answer.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? No. You freak.

The last book you bought is? War Songs and Poems of the Southern Confederacy by An Ex-Confederate

What are you currently reading? Recently finished The Ballad of the Whiskey Robber. Non-fiction. Very good... sort of a Truth-is-stranger-than-fiction deal.

Five books you would take to a desert island: Watership Down by Richard Adams, My bound copy of the complete, and increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker's Trilogy, The Sound and The Fury by William Faulkner, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenence by Robert Pirsig, and of course... The Bible.

ATF

First of all... I should point that it's been a long day... and I just don't know how much I've got in me. A cigar and a sip of 1792 just might end my night completely. Before I take the dive though... I figured I should at least drop in and give y'all a shout.

Coffee seems to be the topic of the day. JAC is awefull stoked about his new Bunn... I use a regular ol' coffee maker myself... though if I had my druthers it would be a perculater. I know I know... Bunn's quicker... Whatever... good stuff usually takes longer. I can wait.

I prefer German Black Bean coffee. I know... you've never had it.. or heard of it... and if you have... you think it's nasty. Oh well. I like it. Piss off. I like my coffee like I like my chicks. Smooth, Tan, and sweet. Blonde is the best.

Plain ol' non-dairy creamer for me thanks... I know it's flammable. That's why I like it. I tried that Coffeemate stuff, but I could never get it to lite.

Everyone I know either makes coffee to strong or to weak. My uncles all make it so strong its damned near thick as mud... and if you make the mistake of lettin' JAC near a coffee maker you'll end up with slightly tinted water.

Coffee's like milk. You ain't supposed to be able to see through it.

Anyway...

It's 1792 and a cigar tonight... I'm undecided on the make... maybe Macanudo? And as for guns... I'll just go ahead and spill the beans on JAC... He ordered a new 1911. It was 'posed to be in today, but he got the shaft.

Anyone think you can guess the make? I'll be shocked as hell if ya do.

So whatcha doin' tonight?

The Great Emancipator

"I will say, then, that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of bringing about in anyway, the social and political equality of the white and black races - that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with white people; and I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black races... I, as much as any other man, am in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race."

- Abraham Lincoln, Peoria, Illinios, 1858.

Now there's a quote from the Lincoln-Douglas Debates you just never hear.

Its interesting that Lincoln apologists will claim that Lincoln's views on race changed over his life. Even more interesting is it, when you listen to the same people totally disregard a man, because he might have said, "nigger" when he was 16. "Those people don't change" they'll tell ya. Until you bring up Lincoln.

At first they'll just flattly deny he said it. They'll accuse you of quoting poor sources... anything they can to ignore the truth. If you ever get them to face reality... then they just say something like, "He was a shrewed politician, and he knew what he had to say at the time."

Sound familiar?

Lincoln's views on race did change after 1858 though. He grew to hate blacks even more. Cow Island was his idea of an experiment. They were trying to figure out what to do with the black folks once the war was over... cause you know... you just can't have 'em runnin' around loose! So they rounded up a few hundred and shipped them off to this little Island, to see how "relocation" might work. All of the black folks died. Mostly because they sent them to an island with barely enough supplies to last a couple weeks.

Skeptical about the relocation plans? You do know that there is a country in africa that was formed by former slaves right? That even adopted our Constitution word-for-word?

Ahh... but the big story is what didn't happen... what John Wilkes Booth could well have prevented from happening. See... a good buddy of Lincoln's was a fella named Ben Butler. Those who had less civil experiences with him refered to him as "The Butcher". Lincoln liked ol' Ben so much he made him governor of Louisianna after the war.

Not being satisfied with throwing innocent Southrons in jail, or executing them for his amuzment, he set about dealing with Lincoln's problem... you know... what to do with all them black folks.

At the time... they were about to start workin' on a little project down in panama... and wouldn't it be nice to create a little "guest worker" program to help that along?

The plans were on Lincoln's desk when he was shot. The only thing that prevented the creation of that "guest worker" program which would've inevitably lead to the deaths of thousands (yellow fever anyone?) was a John Wilkes Boothe.

It's quite possible that the man who killed Lincoln, saved the American Black Race. Now how's that for irony?

So Spacebunny...

What do you think of RC and Moonpies?

Jeb's a Rock Star

I've said before that Jeb has made everything easy on us. At 3 weeks old he was sleepin' 7 through the night. As an infant he was just as happy in a swing or a bouncy chair as he was in your arms. He was never really sick, and even when he was it was never more than a rough night or two. When it came time to try to ween him... well... no... actually... He just up and weened himself. There was no weening on our part. He just stop suckling. DrWho would try, and he'd just look up at her and smile real big... like... "you silly mommy. I'm to big for that."

Nap time... Bed time... never a big deal. There is no big routine or drama. He just says his prayers, lays down and puts himself to sleep. Travel? He doesn't mind spendin' all day in the car. WV to Tennessee? No problem. Northern WV, to Central TN? No problem.

He's really independent... but he wants you to be interested just the same. He won't let you play for him... and God help you if you attempt to help him accomplish something he's set on doing himself.... but he's still one of the most affectionate... if not the most affectionate kid I've ever been around.

All that said.... Why am I constantly suprised when he makes something easy? We were sorta worryin' about the potty training thing. He's 30 months old after all. But... like everything else... He just up and did it.

Over the course of the last 2-weeks he's pretty much potty trained himself. He saw his Papa go... and he ran over to "go" with him. That was big stuff. And I know you girls are thinkin' that's bizarre... but believe me... this is how little boys work.

That was probably 10 days ago, and I can, off the top of my head, think of 2 accidents he's had since then. Today... I'm in the shower... and I hear a knock at the door. Then in comes Jebidiah. He looks in the shower to see who's in there... Laughs at me... then procedes to us the potty. Then he hands me soap, and my towell and stuff. .. Laughs at me some more... and then goes on about his bidness.

How do you live your life without kids?

And for the record... Eli's takin' up right where Jeb left off. He's also sleepin' through the night. So much for the second one bein' harder. He's ever bit as easy goin' as Jeb was.

It's a tough life kids. I tell ya... now if I could just get you people to raise your daughters worth a damn I would have it made. I swear if one more smart-mouth little girl besmirches Jeb on a play ground, I'm gonna find her daddy and beat him like a rented Buell.

Horse Tale

This horse talk has me rememberin' the last time I mounted up. It's been a while, since DrWho and I have been movin' around so much...

Hell... I guess this goes all the way back to our courtin' days.

We were at her cousin's place, and they had a couple horses... Julie said she wanted to ride a little.. and well... what was I gonna say?

First I should point out that Julie is a more experienced rider than I am... but... I'm the male right? So when we learn that one of us is gonna get a sweet-as-can-be old bay, and the other was gonna deal with a younger gelding, full of piss and vinegar... well... guess which one I volunteered for?

Hey... this was a big horse y'all... I ain't shittin' ya, I was scared. I didn't show it... esspecially not to the horse... but I was.

Anyway... Julie hopped up, and I figured the best thing to do was to make sure this big boy knew I wasn't gonna be his bitch. I jumped right up on him, and made sure everything I did, I did like I meant it.

Bad idea.

I had inadvertantly started a power game with a horse that loved power games.

As soon as I was up, I grabbed the hell out of the reigns... and of course... the out-come was predictable. Mr Horse stood up on his hind-legs to let Mr Man know what was what.

2 words. Code Brown.

Anyway, I ain't no jockey but I ain't no fool neither... When he rared up like that, I jerk the hell out the reigns... so hard it turned his head till his nose just about met his shoulder. He came back down then... but then he bailed on me. Full Throttle too. I'm sure Julie was somewhere snickerin'.

I just held on, and kept his head turned until he gave up and decided to be friends... then I played it cool, and trotted him over next to the fence where Julie and her perfectly well mannered little mare were chillin' out, enjoyin' the show.

We strolled around a while before I decided I better quit while I was ahead.

I really do like to ride... I just wish JAC had a horse my size. Bein' a little fella, he only rides ponies ya see. I swear... if he rides anything over 13-hands... I ain't seen it. Yup... That's no lie... he may like big motorcycles... but he'd saunter around on a shetland if he thought it'd bear the weight.

Maybe someday I'll talk him into buyin' a four-legged tractor... then I'll have somethin' to ride.

Derby Week: The Early Dark Horse

In spite of all the hype, the best horse of the last 20 years or so was not Funny Cide. Nor was it Fugasici Pegasas, Nor was it Smarty Jones.

Looking back as far as 1985... the best of the best has been without question Charasmatic, "The Big Horse". People in Lexington still talk about him. They remember how he towered over his competitors. Charasmatic is what ya get when you put Sea Biscuit's fight in a monster's body.

He was a broken leg short of the triple-crown... and he was winning when it broke.

This wasn't like Smarty or Funny Cide, or the other would-be Triple Crown winners who came up short. They all were beaten. Charasmatic would not be beaten. He'd break his own body before he'd run behind another horse.

Did I mention that back in 1999 my wife called Charasmatic's Derby win? Anybody remember what the odds were for him to win that day? A $19,000.00 horse to win the Derby? I thought that was a hilarious pick... until I saw the horse. More specificly... until he smoked the field.

There is an eerily familiar horse runnin' in the Derby saturday. A horse with a couple bad finishes... 4th at Keeneland for example. Look closely at Sun King though folks. He'll get ya thinkin' of his daddy... The one they called "The Big Horse".

He's got more wins under his belt than his daddy did coming in, and with Zito training him, he's got more hype too. There's plenty of uncertainty though... So don't look for him to be near the top of the betting either.

This sorta has me thinkin' of a disturbing trend in horses these days. They seem to be gettin' smaller and smaller. Least the big money Throughbreds are anyway. Like they're tryin' to make birds out of 'em. I look back at horses like Secretariat, or... bless his name.... Man O' War (and yes, I did take my hat off before I typed that). These weren't little horses. They were monsters.

Sea Biscuit used to be the anomaly. Now Charasmatic is.

It's not good for the horses though. We're seein' more and more stress injuries, and more and more bone problems later in life.

Kenyan Marathoners may look like birds... but Gold Medal Sprinters don't. They're big, tall, and solid. They've got muscle bulging out everywhere.

Just like a Thoroughbred should.

Anyway... Keep an eye out for Sun King. The favorite almost never wins the Derby.