The Warrior Class

Sunday Kipling

2012-01-29T11:56:00.000-07:00

Angry. I'm angry today. There are many reasons and I'll have a longish post coming about one of the myriad reasons later but for today I'll stew a bit, chew on a response and try to find my inner peace. It's a new day and the end of a difficult week but I will enjoy my child and grandchildren. I'll play with Angus and scratch Chrisi's ears and remember what is truly important in my life. I fear my time on these pages is drawing to a close but I'll make no hasty decisions. I still have things to say and share. We shall see.
Six

Possibilities

Ay, lay him 'neath the Simla pine --
A fortnight fully to be missed,
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,
A chair is vacant where we dine.

His place forgets him; other men
Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps.
His fortune is the Great Perhaps
And that cool rest-house down the glen,

Whence he shall hear, as spirits may,
Our mundance revel on the height,
Shall watch each flashing 'rickshaw-light
Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play.

Benmore shall woo him to the ball
With lighted rooms and braying band;
And he shall hear and understand
"Dream Faces" better than us all.

For, think you, as the vapours flee
Across Sanjaolie after rain,
His soul may climb the hill again
To each of field of victory.

Unseen, who women held so dear,
The strong man's yearning to his kind
Shall shake at most the window-blind,
Or dull awhile the card-room's cheer.

In his own place of power unkown,
His Light o' Love another's flame,
And he and alien and alone!

Yet may he meet with many a friend --
Shrewd shadows, lingering long unseen
Among us when "God save the Queen"
Shows even "extras" have an end.

And, when we leave the heated room,
And, when at four the lights expire,
The crew shall gather round the fire
And mock our laughter in the gloom;

Talk as we talked, and they ere death --
Flirt wanly, dance in ghostly-wise,
With ghosts of tunes for melodies,
And vanish at the morning's breath.

Complex Dog Behaviors

2012-01-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

I got sharply reminded yesterday that dogs are sometimes smarter and more complex than we realize, or remember at least.

Angus has been house broken since he was 10 weeks old. From that time he could be relied upon to understand his need and where he was to do his business. But I forgot that habits can alter as time passes and circumstances change. The change that precipitated my epiphany was twofold. I've graveled the side yard, where the Pirate Ship is located. It's a large yard and Angus spends a bit of time out there. Not to mention doing a bit of his business there as well. Second, I installed a gate separating the side yard from the back yard. I did it when the side yard was dirt and turned into a sea of mud when it rained. Angus, among his other charming and frustrating habits, is a digger as are many Labs. I decided, in my folly, to go ahead and keep the gate closed whenever he had unsupervised access to the side yard area to keep the holes in my gravel and underlayment to a minimum. That's the set up.

Yesterday morning Angus followed me and Lu into the bathroom. Since the rest of the house was still asleep, and Angus figures that if he's up everyone else should be as well, we decided to keep him in there with us. Showers done we found that he had piddled on the floor. Odd but I figured it was my fault. he'd needed to go and with no access to the backyard had let go on the floor. Clearly an accident. I hauled him outside, gave him a fairly mild scolding and watched until he went on the new fake turf. Done and done right? Not so much. Later in the evening I watched as he stopped between the kitchen and living room and promptly squatted and started peeing on the carpet. I jumped up with a very loud NO!, grabbed him and hustled him to the backyard. Since I caught him in the act he got punished and temporarily banished until clean up was done. Lu, the DO and I talked it over but didn't come to a consensus. DO thought it might be a urinary infection or other problem. I thought it was Angus rebelling a bit. Some dogs do that at about his age. Lu was of the opinion it was something else, perhaps a more complex behavioral issue involving the shutting off of the side yard. Along with the earlier incident it might be that he just hated closed doors, a behavior that Chrisi has in spades.

I gave it some thought and decided to test her theory. I took Angus to the gate, opened it and let him into the side yard. He took off and immediately took a very long pee on the gravel with a definite "Finally!" look on his face. Problem solved. We've had no further peeing on the floor incidents.

What apparently happened was that Angus has transferred his potty instincts from the back yard to the gravel area. I believe that if I had a gravel patch in the back yard the issue would have never come up. Angus now associates relieving and gravel. I missed it completely and Angus paid the price for my ignorance. It's a good lesson and one I should have seen coming from a mile away. Luckily Lu, once again, showed that her instincts and knowledge are better than my own.

It's something to think about and remember. If a dogs behavior suddenly makes a sharp turn it's time to slow down, investigate and give it some careful thought. Maybe the problem is both simpler and more complex than it seems and a quick reaction might be a wrong one. Food for thought.

Six

Sunday Kipling

2012-01-22T01:10:00.000-07:00

It's been rainy and kinda nasty here after a long run of unseasonably good weather. I expect it'll be more of the same today. A good day to sit in, read a good book and, of course, watch my Niners in the NFC title game (who'd a thunk it?). I hope this day finds you all well and content my friends.
Six

The King

"Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said;
"With bone well carved He went away,
Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead,
And jasper tips the spear to-day.
Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance,
And He with these. Farewell, Romance!"

"Farewell, Romance!" the Lake-folk sighed;
"We lift the weight of flatling years;
The caverns of the mountain-side
Hold him who scorns our hutted piers.
Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell,
Guard ye his rest. Romance, farewell!"

"Farewell, Romance!" the Soldier spoke;
"By sleight of sword we may not win,
But scuffle 'mid uncleanly smoke
Of arquebus and culverin.
Honour is lost, and none may tell
Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!"

"Farewell, Romance!" the Traders cried;
"Our keels have lain with every sea;
The dull-returning wind and tide
Heave up the wharf where we would be;
The known and noted breezes swell
Our trudging sails. Romance, farewell!"

"Good-bye, Romance!" the Skipper said;
"He vanished with the coal we burn.
Our dial marks full-steam ahead,
Our speed is timed to half a turn.
Sure as the ferried barge we ply
'Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!"

"Romance!" the season-tickets mourn,
"He never ran to catch His train,
But passed with coach and guard and horn --
And left the local -- late again!"
Confound Romance!... And all unseen
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.

His hand was on the lever laid,
His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks,
His whistle waked the snowbound grade,
His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks;
By dock and deep and mine and mill
The Boy-god reckless laboured still!

Robed, crowned and throned, He wove His spell,
Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled,
With unconsidered miracle,
Hedged in a backward-gazing world;
Then taught His chosen bard to say:
"Our King was with us -- yesterday!"

I Am The One Percent Part II

2012-01-20T16:08:00.000-07:00

I wrote a piece a bit ago titled I am the one percent. That post generated more traffic and comments, including our only trolls ever, than anything else any of us here have yet written. It's sill generating comments from time to time. Recently we got this one from HammerHead:

HammerHead said...

I came across this blog, and am incredibly impressed by this. I am going to check out the other topics I'm interested in here. In response to all of this 1% stuff, up until a couple years ago I was one of those outlaw criminal "scum" types. I spent about a decade in prison, and during that time I did something I never thought I'd do; I read, I observed my "fellow" convicts, and I made my peace with the good Lord. What I realized most was that I love my country. I LOVE riding my pig, I LOVE a big dip of Cope, I LOVE freedom. I read about the founding of our country, our initial governmental development in response to Britainic tyranny. I got out of prison with NOTHING of material value, but a firm sense of morals, ethics, and values. I was honest about being a former man of violence and drugs, and was willing to take ANY job. From third shift in a plastic company making $9/hr, and living in a half-way house. I now own a very nice home, a big Ford truck, a custom Harley, I have a beautiful wife, children, and a great career in the trades...all in three years of working, paying my dues in shitty jobs, and earning a living AS WELL AS the respect of my employers.

Now, I am PROUD to say that I am a different type of 1%er.

Oh, and I'm not swamped in debt because I was smart enough to know that a trade from a trade school was better for me than to have a BA.

Thank you all for your time.

I was deeply moved, both by his story and the fact that he chose to share it here with us. I wanted to make sure his words were as widely read as I could within the confines of this very modest blog so I asked if I could share them in a fresh post. HammerHead readily agreed.

This is a prime example of what I've always viewed as the American Spirit. Note that he didn't take me to task for my representation of the motorcycle 1%ers. He didn't make excuses. He didn't ask for pity or handouts. He didn't blame society or corporations or anyone at all. He paid his debt, put on his grown up clothes and made a successful life with nothing more than a can do attitude, a willingness to work hard and make his own breaks and an understanding that we are indeed masters of our own fate.

It irritates me to no end to see and read the nonsense that passes for thought amongst the occupy crowd and their supporters. Nothing I've read or heard yet comes within light years of this mans journey. None of them is worth the price of this mans spit cup. Morals, ethics, values, family, belief in his God, love of freedom and pride in self and in America.

Success stories are not written in a tent on Wall Street by the craven, who have no more agenda than greed and hatred and violence toward anyone who doesn't agree with them. Sometimes success stories are written in prison, in blood, by brave men who have seen Hell and found there strength instead of despair. And rather than be destroyed by it they have come through with a better understanding of what makes a man a man, indeed what makes anyone a human being, full of wisdom and pride and love.

We as a nation, as a people, cannot be beaten by forces from without. It is only the rot within that can fell us. We are Americans. We are still the land of the free and the home of the brave and we can still produce greatness on every scale. If the Occupy crowd and their handlers want to take this country away from us they're going to have to take it from those of us who refuse to surrender or quit. I don't think they can because we have love, devotion and hard work as our weapons and they have nothing to compare. Read the comments to this post and compare the words of Moth and Art of War with HammerHead and take heart. We are not the One Percent, no not by a very long shot. We are Legion and we're making ourselves heard throughout the land.

God bless you HammerHead and thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing part of your journey with us. I'm glad you're out there and we're proud to have you here with us. It's a long road and a rocky one but if you're of a mind we'll share a bit of it together.

Saddle Up my friends.

Six

Working

2012-01-20T09:57:00.000-07:00

I've been badly remiss on posting lately but I have an excuse. I took on a small CPTED (Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design) consulting client and I'm swamped trying to get the report done. With being sick basically all of last week I'm that far behind and trying to catch up. I'll be done this week (I better be anyway) and back to regularly posting soonest. In the meantime I'll leave you with this.

I'm pretty sure this was taken directly from my old SWAT team manual. We were professionals don't you know.

Six

Flying

2012-01-18T13:30:00.002-07:00

Here's a little eye candy for you Fly (boys & Girls) and also for those who just enjoy things that move through the air.

Enjoy!!!!

http://player.vimeo.com/video/3437045?autoplay=1

Taking Concealed Carry Way Too Far

2012-01-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

I don't talk about it much but I actually began my law enforcement career with the local Sheriff's Department. Like most such agencies, rookie deputies started by working in the county jail. Hey, it's a job not too many love and they have to staff it so...

Among the wonderful jobs I had was working in the wing dedicated to sentenced prisoners, those doing county time. We had to keep them separate from the unsentenced folks because we had outside work parties and some prisoners doing weekends and work release and some jokers always thought they could beat the system and smuggle in contraband. Every prisoner who left the facility, even those on supervised work parties (think roadside trash pickup details) had to be strip searched. Those of us who were new invariably got the task and a lovely task it was. "Hey rookie. Guess what time it is."

This story caught my eye. Really? A .38 revolver with a 6 inch barrel? I mean, I've seen some things 'keistered' (in the parlance of those who are unfortunately knowledgeable about such things) that I thought was painful but a 6 inch revolver? Knives, drugs, razor blades (yes, really) but that takes the cake. I loved this part;
The gun was not loaded. However, the gun was test fired by the OCSO CSI to determine its functionality and it was in operational condition.

I can't help but wonder who they got to do that. You know it was a newbie. "Hey Rook. C'mere a minute".

Of course, this being a cop story and me being a retired cop and all, it brings to mind a recollection about my motivation for finally getting out of the Sheriff's Department just as quickly as ever I could.

I was doing my rookie duty and strip searching a particularly slovenly individual just back from a work detail. The guy must have had a particularly painful encounter with a bath sometime in his childhood because he hadn't stood closer to soap and water than a drive past the car wash in a very long time. If you get my meaning. The funk was eye watering and as he disrobed it actually became visible. Waving your hand in front of your face does nothing more than stir it around so as to penetrate your clothes to an extent where cleaning is accomplished only with a liberal application of gasoline and a match. Still, it was my job and I'm nothing if not thorough. Looking back I'm now fairly certain he was counting on that very malodorousness to put off my game. My job no. My lunch very much.

So, off with the clothing and on with the search. All done and routine so far. Until the bad part. Really, I don't how how you ladies can stand us. I hate to admit this here, where just anyone at all can stop by and read these words, but I've seen a lot of naked men. A lot. Unwillingly it must be said lest anyone think me light in the loafers (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not how I roll). We're gross. Lumpy and hairy and smelly and frankly ridiculously horrible looking. Naked men = bad. Enough said.

So, it's time. Here's the words. Remember, I didn't invent them I just had to say them. "Turn, squat, spread your cheeks apart and cough hard". Man, that still gives me the heebie jeebies. So Prisoner Funk complies. But do I espy something untoward? Is that the corner of a cellophane baggie I see just protruding from an inner recess, peaking it's head out like a mouse from it's hole in the wall seeking the whereabouts of the cat? Being the police officer that I am, and having amazing powers of observation, I deem that it is in fact contraband of one stripe or another (Get it? Stripe? I kill myself). I tell PF "Either you take it out or I will and you won't like it if I have to do it." It was a complete bluff of course. At that point I wouldn't have touched that baggie with two pairs of gloves and some magical tongs. But PF was of another mind.

He reached around, grasped the baggie firmly twixt thumb and pointer and pulled it forth. Inside I saw a fairly minor amount of a green, leafy substance I immediately recognized as Suspected Marijuana. I grabbed an evidence bag and moved in to have him deposit it therein. Only to see his hand moving toward his mouth. In the baggie went followed by noisy and noisome mastication. I can't emphasize enough here the level of this man's lack of basic hygiene. He reeked. He was Orcs living in mountain caves for centuries without bathing ever nasty. Knock a buzzard off a black plague dead cart at 50 paces filthy. It was not good is the basic idea I'm trying to convey here.

And yet, into his mouth went the offending object to be chewed with furtive relish (as far as I could tell. I was busy trying desperately not to be sick). I said "Screw it. If you want it that badly go ahead and finish it." And at that moment the future path of my career was laid out before me in all it's shining glory. Never, never, never again will I do any job that requires me to look at naked men and watch as they eat items that they have pulled from their rectums.

I watched as he gagged and chewed and painfully swallowed the baggie. Dry of course. He croaked a request at me for a drink but by I figured he knew full well that no water was to hand when he made his culinary decision and besides, what wine goes with ass grass anyway? I rolled him up, moved him to an isolation cell and removed him from the outside work detail. Then I sat down and filled out an application to the police department where I eventually retired. Never again seeing another man's nether regions.

So I read the story of the keistered gun with both morbid fascination and a certainty. There's at least one deputy in the Onslow County Sheriff's Department who is even now filling out an application for another police department and making a vow to himself regarding things he will just no longer do.

I feel you brother. I really do.

Six

Sunday Kipling

2012-01-15T17:12:00.000-07:00

I'm late as usual. Watched the Fortyniners beat the Saints. NFC Championship game. Who'd a thunk. The days have been bright and warm. The kids are a joy and the DO and LU have been working in the storage room all day. Straightening and sorting and getting ready for a yard sale and a very long drive all too soon. As for me, I do believe I hear the siren call of the range and a day shooting. Not today maybe but soon. Very soon. May this day find you all happy and healthy and contemplating a range day of your own.
Six

Old Mother Laidinwool
Enlarged from "Old Song"

Old Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead.
She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her head
For said she: "The lads I've picked with when I was young and fair,
They're bound to be at hopping and I'm bound to meet 'em there! "

Let me up and go
Back to the work I know, Lord!
Back to the work I know, Lord!
For it is dark where I lie down, My Lord!
An' it's dark where I lie down!

Old Mother Laidinwool, she give her bones a shake,
An' trotted down the churchyard-path as fast as she could make.
She met the Parson walking, but she says to him, says she: --
"Oh, don't let no one trouble for a poor old ghost like me!"

'Twas all a warm September an' the hops had flourished grand.
She saw the folks get into 'em with stockin's on their hands--
An' none of 'em was foreigners but all which she had known,
And old Mother Laidinwool she blessed 'em every one.

She saw her daughters picking an' their children them-beside,
An' she mowed among the babies an' she stilled 'em when they cried.
She saw their clothes was bought, not begged, an' they was clean an' fat,
An' old Mother Laidinwool she thanked the Lord for that.

Old Mother Laidinwool she waited on all day
Until it come too dark to see an' people went away--
Until it was too dark to see an' lights began to show,
An' old Mother Laidinwool she hadn't where to go.

Old Mother Laidinwool she give her bones a shake
An 'trotted back to churchyard-mould as fast as she could make.
She went where she was bidden to an' there laid down her ghost, . . .
An' the Lord have mercy on you in the Day you need it most!

Let me in again,
Out of the wet an' rain, Lord!
Out of the wet an' rain, Lord!
For it's best as You shall say, My Lord!
An' it's best as You shall say!

Finding Their New Normal

2012-01-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

That's what they call it. Our wounded veterans. Those missing limbs but dedicated to living their lives without self pity, remorse or bitterness. I've met a few and come away with a new appreciation for the warrior spirit, hell the human spirit, that these men display. Every day.

Witness then these men. They are the very essence of what it means to be indomitable. They cannot be dismayed. They cannot be defeated. They will not be victims. They are men. Proud athletes who carry honorable wounds and scars and devices.

Softball. So simple a thing and yet fraught with all things American. Rugged individualism. The will to strive and overcome. The renouncement of fate as the determiner of their lives. The sure and certain knowledge that their lives will be what they make of them.

I am proud to call myself a veteran and to count such men among my brothers, though I am unworthy. They are heroes though I doubt very much they would accept that acclaim no matter how deserving. How much more heroes they are than politicians and movie stars and the degenerate who occupy and demand handouts and pity and the lifeblood of their fellows.

If I am to choose who to admire and who to deny my choice is easily made and easily seen. They wear the sacrifices they have made upon their bodies, wrought in steel and aluminum and honor. And though some will pity them and tsk an aside to another 'how awful it is and those poor men' I will not. I will keep them always in my heart and see them as they are. Tall and fair and noble and proud. My soldiers, my countrymen, my brothers.

May they live forever.

Six

Better

2012-01-12T11:57:00.000-07:00

Wow, was I ever sick. It came on Saturday afternoon and I'm just feeling better this morning. Lu and I both believe it's the sickest I've ever been. I think it was the stomach flu and, trust me on this, you don't want it.

ShoulderAngel6 here. Sorry but I need to interrupt here. Don't read any more. Seriously. Just take it as he was sick and go on about your day. Nothing to see here. Move along. Move along.

ShoulderDevil6 here. Don't listen to that guy. Go ahead. Read the whole thing. Don't be a sissy.
SA6. Shut up knucklehead. You know what he talks about and it's not fit for public consumption. Why anyone would actually put that kind of thing down in words for others to see and read is quite beyond me. Quite.

SD6. Knucklehead. Oh, that's nice. Very spiritual of you. Besides, it's funny. There's pain and suffering and crying and everything. What's not to like?

SA6. Oh stop being such a crybaby. Knucklehead is the least of what you are. And it's not funny. He was very sick and laughing about it just makes it worse. It was clearly your influence that moved him to write this nonsense. Stop encouraging his bad behavior.

SD6. Stop encouraging his bad behavior? Who do you think I am? I'm his shoulder devil not his shoulder wuss. That's your job. Heh heh.

SA6. Don't make me come over there goat boy. I'll beat you like gorilla with a Samsonite. Listen folks, just do us all a favor and ignore everything after Six says "you don't want it." It's for the children after all.

SD6. Bring it goody two shoes and see where that halo ends up. Nah, bring in the little ones, have everyone sit around in a big circle and read it out loud. Good fun and they'll learn something about bodily functions. Funny and educational!

SA6. Ok, that's it. It is so on.

SD6. Oh Yeah? Oh Yeah? Come on over if you're feeling froggy.

SA6. Froggy? Someone hold this for me.

{Hey!Stop that!Ow, that hurts!Don't pull that!Let go!Nononono! Mommy!}

Ok, drifted off there for a second. Where was I? Oh yeah, Saturday afternoon. So the DO was feeling sick (it's been running through the household) so Lu and I loaded up the kids and went out for a nice walk followed by a burger at 5 Guys. Loves me some 5 Guys. By the time we got home I was feeling...bloated. I figured I'd just over indulged on the baconcheeseburgerandfries. Nothing a good nap couldn't cure. I laid down on the floor but after an hour or so the pain was getting kinda unbearable.

With my usual heroic stoicism I... Who's doing all that snickering? Anyway, I managed to make it to bedtime but my stomach was now doing the kind of rumbling one usually finds only just prior to a major eruption of the volcanic kind. Still, I am a tough guy so I....Seriously, who is that?

So we headed in to bed and tried to go to sleep. Nothing like a good nights rest to cure what ails you. Still, along about late evening I was curled into a ball about my now ominously swelling and quite painful midsection. About then the lower end started making it's presence felt. I guess they felt left out or something. It felt like someone had pounded a cork into both the food and poop holes with a sledge hammer. Unpleasant.

At about 10:30 I felt Mister Bowel knocking. "Hey Mac. I've just about got this obstruction out so you might want to start thinking about what comes next. Perhaps getting somewhere with enough industrial capacity to handle this commercial load because buddy, it's gonna be a doozy. And where the hell did this stopper come from anyway? You been eating paste again?"

Feeling obliged to listen to the good Mister Bowel, I jumped up and made my painful way to the bathroom. Upon sitting down on the porcelain throne I could feel the stirrings as Mister Bowel made the final few swings and dislodged the blockage. The dam burst and out flowed the, well....outflow. As it were.

At this exact time Mister Stomach came a knocking. "I say old boy. We'd like to come out now. There's a good lad." (Mister Stomach has a British accent. I have no idea why. I think it's fake.)
I tried to defer. "I'd really prefer you not just at this moment. Busy with something else quite important don't you know. Why don't you just wait a few moments and go out by the back door? I'm told it's now unlocked and will be ready for your use in just a few minutes."
He was having none of it. "Nonsense. We came in by the front door and we'd like to leave the same way. Besides, have you seen what's using the back door? I simply cannot subject my guests to mingling with that sort. Not cricket don't you know."
I tried again. "My dear Mister Stomach. I quite understand and am in fact tied up at the moment with seeing those folks out. If you'll just exercise some patience I'll have the whole lot cleared out and ready for your guests in no time at all."
Mister Stomach then became quite insistent, even cross with me. "We have waited quite long enough already Sir. My guests are ready to debark and debark they shall. Now stand aside or I shall be forced to thrash you."

What could I do? When Mister Stomach gets like that he usually gets his way and tonight was no different. I sent along a quick word to Mister Bowel. "Hey, could I trouble you for a quick second? Seems like Mister Stomach need to let his guests out and is insistent on using the front door. Can I get you to, you know, close up shop for just a bit? I'm sure it'll only take a minute or two. I swear. Just a minute or two. You'd be doing me a huge favor."
He was at first unwilling. "Stop? What, now? You gotta be kidding me. I can't stop this kind of outflow all of a sudden. It takes time. There's valves and shunts and pressure vessels and stuff like that. I try to just shut it down all at once and it might blow and then where'd we be? Sorry. Best to just let it finish."
Now I became insistent. "Listen you little butthole. Just shut it down. Now. I'll take the responsibility if anything goes wrong. Just for the love of god shut it down!"
Reluctantly he agreed. "Ok but if this ends up all over the wall I ain't taking the blame, you got that? No one's pinning this on me."
And with that he slammed shut the exhaust valve and things slowed to no more than a trickle. Now it was time to contact Mister Stomach again. Not something I was looking forward to. No, not at all.

With that at least temporarily settled I got up and, with my pajamas still around my knees, turned around to a new embrace of the white Altar and prepared for the departure of Mister Stomach's guests. "Ready when you are Mister Stomach" I said. He wasn't long in coming as he was in quite a rush.

Have you ever just had your entire body just lock up? You know what I mean. Every muscle in your body in a sudden and total constriction so it feels like a giant hand is squeezing you from the toes up, like a colossal tube of toothpaste? Yeah, it was worse than that. I know where all the liquid Mister Stomach used to lubricate the passage of his guests came from. It was squeezed out of every cell in my body.

At least I was poised just over the bowl so most of the contents went where I had hoped they would. Of course there was a surprise for Mister Stomach and his friends. See, I hadn't yet had the time (nor the inclination, I was that sick) to flush. Mister Stomach actually swore and I'm pretty sure I heard screaming. It might have been me.

The first wave was my lunch from earlier that day. I could actually feel the crumbly hamburger as it went up and out. And, oh look, fries, still with that delicious dipping sauce on the ends. I really have to learn to chew my food better. But Mister Stomach wasn't done yet. Oh no, not by a long shot. He'd decided to take the opportunity to just go ahead and empty the old place out. A good Spring cleaning and just go ahead and give the boot to all the vagrants, trespassers and hangers on who had been living off his largess for a long time. Wave after wave of them. There comes a time in such a situation where you just give up and hope it all ends before you die. I just turned off and became an observer. An interested observer to be sure but no longer even trying to control events. I watched the flood in morbid fascination as the remains of meals long past and little remembered went by. At one point I'm certain I saw a potato pancake come flying out and I haven't eaten one of those since I was seven.

In between the waves there was sobbing, moaning and crying along with long strings of snot, mucous and tears dripping into the bowl. And prayers, lots of prayers. Either for succor or death I will never be sure. Did I mention Lu was there? Oh yeah, my woman, the one I love and who (at least up to now) loves me back was right there the whole time. Watching the spectacle and gently rubbing my sides and belly. She held back the top I was wearing so as to not let it become fouled. I mean it's not like I have hair she could sweep back. She stroked my body as the spasms wracked me and whispered soothing words as she beheld my shame. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to kill her. Either that or disappear forever and change my name.

Still, this too at last ended. Mister Stomach bade me a good day and went back down to his house, slamming the door behind him. Of course Mister Bowel wasn't quite done yet as he painfully reminded me. "Hey buddy. Uh, I think you better do something and do it quick because the pressure is way too high down here and I'm pretty sure she's about to blow."
I managed to stumble up and sit back down just in time as the pressure peaked and the dam Mister Bowel had been holding back burst forth in an explosion of noxiousness and shame.

You want to know how good your marriage or relationship is? Get explosively sick in front of your significant other. The kind where there is clean up to do afterward. The kind of clean up that involves various disgusting, vile and malodorous body secretions you will be too sick to help with. If they stay with you you're golden.

There was only temporary relief from the pain and sickness. I had long days and even longer nights of no sleep, no food and massive discomfort. Mister Stomach put the kettle on at full boil and left it there for many days. He even invited Mister Bowel up and the two had tea while discussing my various shortcomings and limitations and why in the world does she stay with him she could do so much better. I even had a relapse and a second talk with Mister Stomach of a sudden on Tuesday morning. Seems he'd discovered a boarder or two he'd overlooked on Saturday night.

But this morning I am feeling much better. I was able to eat a bit last night and again this morning. I was planning on going out for a thing or two but I'm going to sit here a while and see if I can't get some more sleep before I decide whether that's a good idea or not. Mister Stomach has damped the kettle and is taking on new guests again. Mister Bowel seems to have finally gotten all the pipes and basement workings sorted out. Good lads. I anticipate no more problems from those two for at least a bit.

So. That's my story though I seem to be of two minds about the telling. Something about being both disappointed and gleeful. And who is doing that laughing?

And why do my shoulders hurt?

Six

Sunday Kipling

2012-01-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

Well, the Six has been kicked in the stomach and I think he's be alright with dying, if the option showed itself, so I'm up for today! I'm the history major, and I just did a paper on William the Conqueror and the Norman influence on England, hence this poem. It's actually rather interesting, as it's Kipling's view on how to rule the English! Hope you all enjoy a bit of historical tongue in cheek.

~The DO

Norman and Saxon

"My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will
    be heir
To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for
    share
When he conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little
    handful it is.
But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:--

"The Saxon is not like us Normans. His manners are not so polite.
But he never means anything serious till he talks about justice
      right.
When he stands like an ox in the furrow--with his sullen set eyes 
     on your own,
And grumbles, 'This isn't fair dealing,' my son, leave the Saxon
     alone.

"You can horsewhip your Gascony archers, or torture your
      Picardy spears;
But don't try that game on the Saxon; you'll have the whole 
     brood round your ears.
From the richest old Thane in the county to the poorest chained 
              serf in the field,
They'll be at you and on you like hornets, and, if you are wise,
                  you  will  yield.

"But first you must master their language, their dialect, proverbs
              and songs.
Don't trust any clerk to interpret when they come with the tale
              of their own wrongs.
Let them know that you know what they are saying; let them feel
               that you know what to say.
Yes, even when you want to go hunting, hear 'em out if it takes
                you all day.

They'll drink every hour of the daylight and poach every hour
     of the dark. 
It's the sport not the rabbits they're after (we've plenty of game
     in the park).
Don't hang them or cut off their fingers. That's wasteful as well
     as unkind,
For a hard-bitten, South-country poacher makes the best man-
     at-arms you can find.

"Appear with your wife and the children at their weddings and
     funerals and feasts.                                         
Be polite but not friendly to Bishops; be good to all poor parish
   priests.
Say 'we,' 'us' and 'ours' when you're talking, instead of 'you
    fellows'  and  'I.'
Don't ride over seeds; keep your temper; and never you tell 'em
     a lie!"

Jesse Ventura Really Is A Douchebag

2012-01-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

What the hell happened to him? UDT to big time wrestler to actor to Governor to Douchebag Supreme.

Really? Ventura said that to a SEAL in a SEAL bar? He shouldn't have said it anywhere to anyone but that may be the stupidest thing I've ever heard of anyone doing. He's lucky The Chief didn't kill him.

Ventura, you're a scumbag. I don't know what the hell happened to you and frankly at this point I really don't care. I'm through with you. As a veteran myself I disavow you and will never again acknowledge you as a brother veteran. As far as I'm concerned you're no better than John Murtha. You are a dishonorable shadow of a man and deserve whatever ill fate befalls you. You have no integrity, no honor and no place among the heroes you slander and attack. Fuck you.

Chief Kyle. Thank you. You may have been at the wake of one of your SEAL brothers but when you silenced that piece of slime you did so in the memory of all those we have lost regardless of branch.
May you get another crack at him.

Six

Thoughts

2012-01-03T23:14:00.001-07:00

Author unknown??

As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend..

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 &70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love .. I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things..

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.
So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore..
I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever,
but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day(if I feel like it)..

MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART.

I don't know who the author is but it did think it was cool and about sums it up for me.

A Football Post

2012-01-02T13:31:00.001-07:00

I know most of you are indifferent to the whole stick and ball sports stuff but I do follow at least football and baseball. Giants and Fortyniners. We moved to California in 1981, when the Niners were starting their amazing run and the Giants were bad with no signs of getting better. But we became fans. Games at Candlestick park. Yeah, it's as crappy as they say (though AT&T Park is wonderful).

We were young and from a state that at that time had no professional sports team. I played football in high school but my college was the Army and the Police Department. I went to my first professional sports game in the spring of 1982. The Giants played the Braves. Bob Brenly hit a grand slam but the Giants found a way to lose anyway. Someone fell off the upper tier very near our seats and was killed. It was memorable to say the least. Still, we were hooked. The Niners won 5 Superbowls and the Giants finally won it all in 2010.

The Niners are finally good again after 8 years of stinking up the league.
2003 7-9
2004 2-14
2005 4-12
2006 7-9
2007 5-11
2008 7-9
2009 8-8
2010 6-10
2011 13-3

A first round bye and a home game. Frankly I'm astounded. I predicted a rebuilding year under Harbough and no better than 5-11 or 6-10. They're playing excellent defense, have a very good kicking game and have enough offense to keep them in the game with a chance to win. It's been a winning formula so far but now it's post season time. There's at least a fair chance they'll win at home and play in the NFC championship game and that's more than I could have possibly hoped for before the season began. They don't beat themselves.

Lu and I remained Fortyniner faithful through the dark years, though I turned off more games than I watched. It got pretty painful for a while. I'm looking forward to seeing what they can do when the brass ring is within reach and the pressure has been turned all the way up. I think they'll surprise someone. Finally, a reason to watch post season football again.

Go Niners!

Six

Sunday Kipling

2012-01-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

It's the first day of a brand new year. I hope this day finds you all well and happy. We'll watch a little football (Go Niners!), eat some New Years treats and look forward to what will come. Have a great day.
Six

The Undertaker's Horse
"To-tschin-shu is condemned to death.
How can he drink tea with the Executioner?"
Japanese Proverb.

The eldest son bestrides him,
And the pretty daughter rides him,
And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course;
And there kindles in my bosom
An emotion chill and gruesome
As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse.

Neither shies he nor is restive,
But a hideously suggestive
Trot, professional and placid, he affects;
And the cadence of his hoof-beats
To my mind this grim reproof beats: --
"Mend your pace, my friend, I'm coming. Who's the next?"

Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen,
I have watched the strongest go -- men
Of pith and might and muscle -- at your heels,
Down the plantain-bordered highway,
(Heaven send it ne'er be my way!)
In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels.

Answer, sombre beast and dreary,
Where is Brown, the young, the cheery,
Smith, the pride of all his friends and half the Force?
You were at that last dread dak
We must cover at a walk,
Bring them back to me, O Undertaker's Horse!

With your mane unhogged and flowing,
And your curious way of going,
And that businesslike black crimping of your tail,
E'en with Beauty on your back, Sir,
Pacing as a lady's hack, Sir,
What wonder when I meet you I turn pale?

It may be you wait your time, Beast,
Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast --
Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop the glass --
Follow after with the others,
Where some dusky heathen smothers
Us with marigolds in lieu of English grass.

Or, perchance, in years to follow,
I shall watch your plump sides hollow,
See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corse --
See old age at last o'erpower you,
And the Station Pack devour you,
I shall chuckle then, O Undertaker's Horse!

But to insult, jibe, and quest, I've
Still the hideously suggestive
Trot that hammers out the unrelenting text,
And I hear it hard behind me
In what place soe'er I find me: --
"'Sure to catch you sooner or later. Who's the next?"

Happy Election Year

2011-12-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year to you all. It's been a great year and a lot of that is thanks to you. I've made some friends and had a lot of fun. Thank you sincerely.

May the new year bring you health and happiness and may the Stupid Party find a way out of the darkness and into the light of true freedom. I really want obama to be a one termer who fades into history.

Six

Cooking Things With Fire

2011-12-30T20:51:00.000-07:00

Now a lot of you are real cooks, bakers and essentially professional level chefs. I'm just a guy who burns dead things over fire. But I do occasionally get it just right so I'm throwing this out there for any backyard BBQ aficionado. Sorry, no pictures. It vanished like smoke on a windy day. I have a gas grill but this technique will work with a charcoal one. Instead of turning off burners just make sure you have space on the grill that's away from the direct heat and have a means to cover it.

Mesquite Tri Tip

I bought 2 largish tri tips from Costco. I like them in the 1.5 to 2 pound range. Any bigger and you risk having a tough piece of meat. I actually like Costco's meat department because you can get some pretty fresh beef from them. Tri Tip is best done with as fresh as you can get.

I use a sweet Mesquite rub. I prefer rubs over marinades just because I've had better luck using them. Again, I bought the Kirkland brand and it's very good. Nice smell, good taste without being overpowering and excellent as a rub. I use Worcestershire sauce as the base for the rub and add the mesquite to taste. Rub the tri tip a few hours before cooking and let it set in the fridge. I make enough rub for the initial seasoning with enough left over for one basting and some to add in when I let the meat rest.

Set the BBQ for a medium heat and let it get all the way hot. Put on the meat and let it sear on both sides. After it's nice and brown go ahead and baste with about half of the remaining rub. My grill is three burners so I turn off the center burner and turn the other two up just enough to keep the heat at medium. Put the meat over the dead burner and let it cook indirectly for about 45 minutes. Watch the meat and don't let the exterior burn. If it's starting to blacken either turn down the heat a smidge or move the meat/coals further away.

When the active cooking is done I wrap the meat in foil and add in the rest of the rub. Seal them well. Turn off all the burners except one and set it on it's lowest setting and put the meat back on the grill, away from the burner. It's really letting the meat rest and essentially allows it to finish cooking the rest of the way with it's internal heat. You can also put the foil wrapped meat in a cooler but the grill technique works better for me.

The Tri Tip comes out tender and juicy. It's really easy to overcook Tri Tip and end up with a very dry meat. Frankly, I've ruined a lot of meat by overcooking which is even easier to do on a grill. Keep it in the foil until you're ready to eat then unwrap, slice and serve immediately. I made it tonight for a get together and it was a big hit, even with The Boy who's not a big steak eater. It disappeared with alacrity. Lu made a mess of her wonderful stir fried New Potatoes and we served it with steak rolls and a cold beverage. There are no leftovers.

I love to BBQ but the learning curve is steep while I'm a bit slow. I've been burning meat over fire for years but only now getting to the point where I don't have to make excuses for why it's under/over done.

Six

For Brigid. In Sympathy

2011-12-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

Recently Brigid blew out a knee and just had surgery. My thoughts and prayers go out to her but I wanted to show my support in a more tangible way. She's too far away for me to bring over a dish or take Barkley for a walk so I'm left with morale support.

I'm so sorry you got injured Brigid and I know you've been under the knife a time or two before this but I wanted you to know.

I feel your pain.

Cool pants eh? That picture was taken in May, 2006 right after my surgery for a completely blown Achilles tendon. My toes were swollen up like 10 little Vienna sausages. My hands developed massive callouses from the crutches. It took me 5 months to get released to light duty and a year before I went back to patrol. More pics here.
Hang in there Brigid. Let your friends and loved ones help. Do your rehab and everything the nice doctor says. And remember;

You're not old you're just in need of a tune up.

Get well soon!!

Six

Merry Christmas To All

2011-12-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

From the Six clan to you. May you have joy and peace and may the new year bring you happiness.

Six

Christmas

2011-12-23T22:28:00.000-07:00

Twas the night before Christmas, with a chill wind a-blowing

A glance out the window confirmed it was snowing

I was out in the workshop, cranking hard on the press,

The bullets were Nosler; the dies? RCBS!

My new Lyman tumbler was shining the brass

As hard flakes of white stuff kept tapping the glass

A glance at the mercury showed the temperature was dropping

And it seemed a good plan that I soon would be stopping

The evening grew darker and the snow started drifting,

You could tell that this storm would not soon be lifting

So I cranked up the heater, and rubbed hands together

Hoping elk, deer and rabbits would survive this foul weather

I scrubbed out my Marlin, and wiped down my Colt

Then took out my Savage and oiled the bolt,

I touched up the bluing on my trusty Sig Sauers

And made myself busy as I passed through the hours

It might have been Midnight, or a little thereafter

When my senses were jarred by the noise of his laughter

I was barely awake, I must have been dozin’

When he burst through the doorway, his white beard all frozen

His red flannel coat was all crusted with ice

And he stood near the heater, saying “Man, that feels nice!”

Was I only just dreaming, had my mind played a trick?

Or was I really the host to fat old St. Nick?

He brushed off the snow from his round little belly

And fixed a warm gaze on my fine old Benelli

“I can see you still hunt some,” said this wise Yuletide jester

As he fingered the stock of my vintage Winchester

He glanced ‘round my workshop as the storm became louder

“Looks to me that you’re running a bit low on powder.”

So he reached in his bag, and pulled out a case

Of Hodgdon propellants, with a smile on his face

Then he paused while he pondered, and he seemed to recall

“You’re a front-stuffer shooter, here’s some patches and ball.”

And then one more package, to clean my guns fine

A bottle of Hoppe’s, that old No. 9!

I held up my hands and said, “That’s quite enough!”

“I’m about out of room for all of this stuff

“You’ve been way too generous, you’ve filled up my shelves.

“How’s this going to look to your over-worked elves?”

“Don’t worry,” says he, “I’ve got plenty of toys

“For all of the good little girls and boys

“And there’s more in my sleigh for their sisters and brothers

“Their hard-working dads and their tireless mothers.

“But for hunters and shooters, there’s always new ammo,

“Binoculars, boots, or a full set of camo

“A backpack, a firearm or a razor sharp knife

“Something they’ll treasure for the rest of their life.”

With that, he departed, and outside I could hear

Him speaking so softly to eight tiny reindeer

“There’s work to be done. We don’t want to be late

“Let’s make for the sky, boys, the children won’t wait!”

With sleigh bells a’jingling, and a hearty “Ho! Ho!”

He was off like a rocket in a flurry of snow

He left nary a track, but one thing I remember,

He promised he’d be back this way next December

Remember Those Who Will Not Be Home This Christmas

2011-12-23T12:15:00.000-07:00

In a couple of days we will celebrate the birth of Christ. Christmas day. We'll open brightly wrapped packages, eat til we're stuffed, sing some carols and enjoy friends and family. As we should. As is right and proper. The chance to enjoy this holiday in the warmth and comfort of our homes has been bought and paid for by men and women who will never again feel the embrace of loved ones nor see the joy in their childrens faces upon opening a particularly precious gift. Brought to us by men and women who will spend yet another Christmas away from hearth and home so that we, their beloved countrymen, might have this day in peace. They will ever be in our hearts.

To all those we have lost. How we do miss you. For all those who are still serving, so far from your loved ones. We love you more than we can say. Thank you for your service and sacrifice. Thank you for allowing me to have those I love best near to enjoy our holiday in peace and comfort. Thank you for keeping the faith.

From my family to you and yours may you have a Merry Christmas. We pray that you will find your homes again safely in the new year. May God bless each and every one of you and may we never forget.

Six
DO
Sarge

What Makes Lu Laugh?

2011-12-22T21:13:00.000-07:00

This does. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before but it had Lu falling out of her chair last night. Pretty sure it was the nuts thing.
Six

Captain Morgan Christmas Cookies

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts (optional)
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Captain Morgan Spiced Rum
Sample the rum to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the rum again, to
be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.

Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter
in a large fluffy bowl.

Add one peastoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make
sure the rum is still ok, try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.

Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Pick the frigging fruit off the floor, and check the rum.

Mix on the turner.

If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry
it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the Captain Morgan to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who geeves a sheet. Check the
rum. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

Add one table.

Add a psoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall
over.

Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, bow the throwl through the window, finish the Maptain Corgan and
make sure to put the stove in the wishdasher.
Cherry Mistmas !

Happy Hanukkah

2011-12-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

Sunset today marks the first day of Hanukkah. You can read more on the story and customs and practices here.

To all our Jewish friends here and around the world we send our hopes for a happy and prosperous Hanukkah season.

Chag Chanukah Sameach!

Six

Sunday Kipling For Our Special Girl

2011-12-18T16:27:00.001-07:00

This is a special Kipling dedicated to a special lady. Our Chrisi girl is 15 years old today. Chrisi came home almost a year to the day after we got Trooper. Her full name is Lu's Chrisimas Surprise because of her birthdate and because I took a chance and bought her from our breeder without Lu knowing. She was always The Princess. She loved to run and retrieve and play with her big brother. She's been a near perfect companion for Lu, accompanying her on long trips and protecting her from unseen dangers. Now she's a big sister, passing on her patience and good manners to her little brother (who adores her). She no longer runs and frolics but she still goes for walks and rides. With still bright eyes and a wagging tail she'll always be our Princess. 15 years go by so fast. It seems like a lot but we're hoping for still more time with her. Greedy I know but she's our Chrisi girl. She's old and grey now but every once in a while, usually when it's least expected, the puppy in her will come out for just a bit and we smile and reminisce and appreciate her all the more

We love you Chrisi. Thank you for your companionship, your protection and your love. No one ever had a better dog. Happy birthday Sweetheart.

Here's a Kipling just for Chrisi. I hope I can be forgiven if I've changed it just a bit. :)

The Cat That Walked by Himself
Kitty can sit by the fire and sing,
Kitty can climb a tree,
Or play with a silly old cork and string
To 'muse herself, not me.
But I like Chrisi my dog, because
She knows how to behave;
So, Chrisi's the same as the First Friend was,
And I am the Man in the Cave!

Kitty will play Man-Friday till
It's time to wet her paw
And make her walk on the window-sill
(For the footprint Crusoe saw);
Then she fluffles her tail and mews,
And scratches and won't attend.
But Chrisi will play whatever I choose,
And she is my true First Friend!

Kitty will rub my knees with her head
Pretending she loves me hard;
But the very minute I go to my bed
Kitty runs out in the yard,
And there she stays till the morning-light;
So I know it is only pretend;
But Chrisi, she snores at my feet all night,
And she is my Firstest Friend!

Video Interlude

2011-12-17T11:19:00.001-07:00

I'm working on a post but my muse is goofing off again. She's so lazy. Instead how about something cool and fun on a Saturday?
As you watch this bear in mind it's a simulation. A computer game. An awesome computer game complete with nomex racing gloves.
Six

Raising Boys With Risk

2011-12-12T14:53:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you've all seen the news about the 9 year old who was initially suspended over calling a teacher cute (The administrator was later dismissed). Then there's the first grader being investigated for sexual harassment over punching another boy in the groin during a fight. There are many, many more such. A depressingly large number. It's as if every adult in the nation has forgotten what it's like to be a kid.

Here's a blast from the past I'm betting a lot of you remember.
Glory Glory Hallelujah
Teacher Hit You With A Ruler
Blow Her Through The Door With A Loaded 44
And She Ain't Gonna Teach No More
Come on. I can't be the only one out there that sung that as a child. There were more that my memory simply can't bring up any more but the point is that young boys do stuff like that. It's all about learning what it means to be a man, pushing our boundaries and doing risky things. Not once did I or anyone I ever knew actually blow a teacher through the door with a loaded 44. We didn't even consider it. But we could sing about it and tell each other lies about how cool we were and just be boys engaging in harmless behavior with that heady tang of risk and being an outlaw. I'm absolutely certain that the teachers heard that song and others just like it many times yet none of us were so much as sent to the principals office over it much less suspended and investigated and charged criminally. Common sense and a dose of 'they're just being boys' perhaps?

Cute? What guy didn't have a crush on a teacher? Perhaps it was one of your mom's friends or an older girl in the neighborhood or even a distant cousin who was the most beautiful creature ever created by a supreme being who clearly knew what a girl was supposed to look like. Asking a boy to exercise the virtues of an adult is insane. Besides what's wrong with appreciation and adolescent fantasy? It's all part of growing up. And don't talk to me about abuse. I experienced it first hand and it's got nothing to do with a boy who likes his teacher.

How about fighting? Any guys out there who got into a fistfight or two as boys? I did, many times. And yes, groin punching was a pretty routine tactic, accepted and even expected when small fists start to fly over matters of honor or self defense. I did get sent to the principal a few times over such but never got more than a stern warning to stop fighting at school. Or else. What else? I never found out because we respected the school administrators (and especially the Principal!) even though the stricture against fighting at school was routinely ignored or forgotten. because boys are boys and fighting with each other is as natural as breathing. I have a brother who is 15 months my senior. Close enough for us to be physically pretty equal but far enough for friction to develop and develop it did. Living in a house with 3 boys and a single mother who worked and went to college left us with a lot of hostility and a lot of time in which to exercise it. We had hundreds of fights. We spent one whole summer fighting nearly every day. And not the pushing, shoving kind of fighting but the knock down, drag out type I refer to as fist fighting. I had pretty much a permanent black eye for months. But neither of us turned into serial killers or criminals or anti-social monsters. Heck, I consider it as just good preparation for a later career where fighting with angry, drugged out, violent men was routine. I really need to thank my brother sometime for teaching me the value of a good scrap. Never trust a man who hasn't been in at least one good fight.

The value of risk has been driven home to me by my grandson, The Boy. I'm teaching him rock climbing. Even with my background and knowledge, when I see him scaling a sharp face or see him standing atop a conquered climb, just inches from a fall, my heart leaps into my throat and my first instinct is to order him away from the edge and to carry him down to where it's safe. My daughter shakes her head at me and watches with ill concealed pride. She knows. She understands that he must be allowed to experience risk. He must see that he can conquer his fears and overcome his limitations. He needs to have an outlet for his aggressive feelings. To deny him this is to deny him a chance at manhood. He may not be able to hear, he won't read and he can't think but he can see. He can experience first hand what it means to risk and win. He must be able to experience pain and failure if he is to learn to judge.

We are emasculating our boys, sacrificing them on the altar of political correctness. Willingly turning them over to those who hate them for their very maleness and kidding ourselves that they know better than we how our boys should be raised. A boy who is denied a chance to be a boy will grow up top be a frustrated man, unsure of who or even what he is. Mini bikes and BB guns and pulling the pig tails of that girl in second period that we like but don't quite know how to admit. Climbing hills and throwing rocks and getting dirty. Wrestling with the dog and getting into fights with the school bully. Scrapes and cuts and bruises and occasionally something worse but learning about life from them.

Suspended? Investigated? Shame on us all. Those boys should be celebrated for being what they are. Boys who will someday grow up to be men (God willing).

Make no mistake about it, we need men in our society. Men who dream big, build big and are ready to fight at the drop of a hat over the things that matter. Men who understand their power and have learned, through painful trial and error, how to contain and focus it. Men who have been allowed to experience the joys of budding puppy love and infatuation so they can recognize the real thing when it appears and be equipped to appreciate, value and protect the one they love.

We do our boys no favor by wrapping them in a blanket and protecting them from all of life's ups and downs. We're not protecting them at all, we're punishing them for being boys and setting them up for a life of frustration, depression and failure. We're not teaching that 9 year old to respect women, we're teaching him to distrust women. We're requiring him to grow up misogynistic. And we wonder at the divorce and domestic violence rate in this country. We're not teaching that first grader fairness, we're teaching him that it's better to be a victim than a survivor. Better to lose a fight and take a beating (or worse) than win at all costs. We're teaching them that being a boy is wrong and that they're somehow bad just for being what they are.

I am grateful for growing up the way I did. I love my scars, my wounds, my soaring triumphs and crashing defeats. They were honorably obtained and taught me that I like being a man. I'm rough and crude and I use bad language from time to time. I'm lumpy and hairy and sometimes smell of the sweat from honest toil and I don't care. I eat red meat and even kill it from time to time. I like guns and big trucks and dogs and motorcycles and fast cars. I love cop movies where the bad guy gets his in the end. I love my career choices. Being a soldier and a cop define me and I'm good with that. I love my wife, her softness and kindness and her womanly curves. I love how she smells and her gentle kisses. I love that she's a woman and allows me to be a man. I love my tools and making things with my hands. I love my daughter and my grandchildren and I'd do anything to protect them and see that they have the same opportunities in life that I had. If that makes me a bad person then so be it. I think that a man makes his own way to hell with those who desire nothing more than to see him fall and fail and disappear. I make no apologies for any of it.

And so I want The Boy to have the chance to grow up to be the man I know is buried in that small, sturdy body. I want him to be free to take risks, knowing that we'll be there to help him up, dust him off and send him on his way again. I want him to experience the first blushes of a crush without the fear that he'll be labeled a harasser of women and girls. I want him to fight for what's right and true and honorable without fear of arrest and ostracizing by a society that hates and fears him. I want him to play sports and learn to shoot and climb mountains and ride a motorcycle if those are his desire. I want him to be free to choose his own path, whatever that may be, without a hostile society imposing their will upon him.

He's my little man. My Boy. The one who copies me and watches me with wide eyes. What does it mean to be a man? In the end that's a question only he can answer however much I, his parents, his teachers and every busybody, nanny in the country want to influence him. Boys should be treated as apprentice men lest they never stop being little boys.

I fear that is what we've come to. A country run by alleged adults who either never grew up or who grew up hating what boys become when left to their own devices. For my part I'll emulate my daughter and remember what it was like to be a boy trying to become a man. I'll point him in the right direction and then step back to allow him to win or fall on his own. Lessons, advice, wisdom, the lore of the tribe, all these are his for the asking but the option to be the man he wants to be is his birthright and be damned to the very pits of Hell to those who would rob him of that.

Six

Sunday Kipling

2011-12-11T15:43:00.000-07:00

Man I'm late again today. Christmas is almost here. My son in law will be here soon to spend the holiday with us and we can't wait for him to arrive. In the meantime there's dinosaur footprints to see, puppies to play with and turkey stew bubbling on the stove. Mmmm, smells like family. Have a great Sunday my friends.
Six

The Four Angels
"With the Night Mail"--Actions and Reactions

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee;
But Adam did not need it,
Nor the plough he would not speed it,
Singing: --"Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire?"
(The Apple Tree's in bud)

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Waters offered all the Seas in fee;
But Adam would not take 'em,
Nor the ships he wouldn't make 'em,
Singing:--"Water, Earth and Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire? "
(The Apple Tree's in leaf.)

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Air he offered all the Air in fee;
But Adam did not crave it,
Nor the flight he wouldn't brave it,
Singing: --"Air and Water, Earth and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire?"
(The Apple Tree's in bloom.)

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Fire rose up and not a word said he;
But he wished a flame and made it,
And in Adam's heart he laid it,
Singing: --"Fire, Fire, burning Fire!
Stand up, and reach your heart's desire!"
(The Apple Blossom's set.)

As Adam was a-working outside of Eden-Wall,
He used the Earth, he used the Seas, he used the Air and all;
Till out of black disaster
He arose to be a master
Of Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
But never reached his heart's desire!
(The Apple Tree's cut down!)

Rules Of The Road Bicycle Edition

2011-12-10T01:52:00.000-07:00

Let me say right up front that I am a bicyclist. Lu and I do ride on the roads of America. But we avoid narrow, well traveled streets and obey all rules of the road (though I did once give Lu and the DO a near coronary by bombing down a mountain road at breakneck speeds with them following in the truck..another story). Names have been omitted to protect the innocent.

Joan has a post up about those bicyclists who can't seem to act like reasonable people. You know, the ones you fantasize about sideswiping off the road and into the annals of the Darwin Awards. In that light I'll pass along this story to hopefully give you a little satisfaction that there really is justice in the world. Occasionally. I was also nearly punched out by a lawyer. There was spit and screaming and everything.

Back in the day when I rode a motorcycle for my daily bread I was also one of our accident reconstructionists. I was dispatched to and investigated complex accidents, including injury and fatals. On this occasion I was sent to an auto/bicycle crash where the bicyclist received significant but not life threatening injuries.

Here's the stage. There's a doc in the box located near our recreation trail. The parking lot is surrounded by a 6 foot wooden fence. The exit crosses a sidewalk that makes a bend so it runs parallel to the fence on the drivers right. The sidewalk run from the parking lot exit to the curve and fence was short (I can't recall the exact distance but it was short). A careful driver can see pedestrians with no problem. Anything faster? Not so much. The cross street is divided by a raised concrete median with a cutout. The recreation trail ends at the street, requiring that trail users cross a city owned wharf parking lot or use the cutout and the street to pick it up again.

The driver was leaving the clinic after a visit with the ships doctor masquerading as qualified medical professional (another sore spot for me. Don't ask). Witnesses state she came to a complete stop at the parking lot exit whereupon, not seeing any pedestrian traffic close enough to be a hazard, she moved forward and across the sidewalk to enter traffic.

Enter the bicyclist. He decided to leave the recreation trail path and travel down the sidewalk in order to cut off the extra 100 feet or so he'd have to travel to use the cutout and pick up the trail again. He promptly crashed into the side of the car and managed to injure himself and damage the car and his bicycle.

I got there and conducted my investigation, including a time/distance calculation that showed the bicyclist was traveling at considerably faster than a walking pace, fast enough that it would have been impossible for the driver to see him. I found the bicyclist at fault for riding on a sidewalk (against the law in California) and cited him. In the report I noted the blind spot created by the fence and curving sidewalk as well as the bicyclists speed and short sidewalk run as factors mitigating against the driver being able to see the cyclist as well as there being no reasonable expectation on the drivers part to be looking for a bicyclist riding down the sidewalk in the first place. Her responsibility was to check for immediate hazards and when none were present she was free to navigate freely.

Fast forward 3 years and the inevitable civil suit. I was deposed by the plaintiff's attorney and on the fateful day arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time. I should have known what was coming. When I got into the conference room where the deposition was to take place the defendant's attorney was sitting back in his chair with a shit eating grin on his face. Through the whole deposition he said exactly two words.

The plaintiff's attorney started out by getting my training, education and experience in the record. Then he went on the attack. You know those small dogs commonly referred to as ankle biters? The ones who bark furiously and growl and snap and generally threaten without biting until you get a hand just a little too close? Yeah, that was this lawyer to a T. We went back and forth for hours. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that in an auto/bicycle accident the driver wasn't automatically at fault. I imagine the injuries suffered by the rider were enough that he was eyeing a fairly hefty fee for his services and as we continued he saw that settlement disappearing further and further into the distance. At one point he asked me if bicyclists were fair game. If a driver could just completely disregard cyclists and injure them out of hand. My answer sent him into spasms of apoplexy. In that moment I understood what a conniption fit looks like. I was actually concerned that he was going to have a stroke. I told him that as long as a bicyclist was in violation of the vehicle code, operating his conveyance in a place he shouldn't have, in a manner disregarding his own safety and the driver exercised due caution then what happened to the bicyclist was his own fault. He leaned across the table toward me, spittle flying from his lips, and screamed that it was now open season on bicyclists according to me and there would soon be blood in the streets, cats and dogs living together and generally the end of the western world as we know it. I really thought he was going to punch my lights out he was so angry. The defendants lawyer just sat there, a log, and watched the plaintiff's case going down in flames, a smile on his lips. I hated him for that but what you gonna do? Has to be the easiest case he ever took. The deposition wound down from there but that lawyer was obviously a defeated man. I was right and he was wrong and the fact that he couldn't rip me apart and make me recant my investigation and testimony deflated him like a pin popped balloon. You could actually see the dollar signs flying away from his eyes.

The defense attorney's response? The only two words he uttered through about 4 hours of questions, answers and bitter recriminations? "No questions".

I never heard the final outcome but I didn't receive a subpoena for trial so it's pretty certain that the case was settled. I hated that the bicyclist was injured but the bottom line here is the the rules of the road apply equally. If you ride on the road your health and safety is your responsibility. Knowing and obeying the statutes regulating cars and bicycles isn't just a good idea it's essential to remaining a breathing, uninjured person.

But yeah, winning an argument with a lawyer so thoroughly that he nearly smacked me in the snot locker was one of the highlights of my career. It was a good day.

Six

Ok, Now It's Done

2011-12-08T14:36:00.000-07:00

The last item to be completed on the pirate ship is now done. You'll recall that I painted it Ace Pirate Ship Brown but I didn't do any decoration. That was waiting for 2 small hands and large imaginations. And it needed a name. Behold the USS Ghost Pirate.

Why Ghost Pirate? Because she's 7 and he's 5 and that's just the way they roll. That is a picture of the ship's namesake below the name. He looks pretty darn ghosty piratey to me but then I may just be a bit prejudiced.

Here's Little Bit proving she can both paint and spell. She did the bulk of the work while The Boy hung out and 'supervised'.

Small hands, some poster paint, a small paint brush and a big heart can work wonders.

The ships wheel. It was a lazy susan Lu found but it's now been turned into the mechanism to move worlds.

A pirate ship moves on water. When none is at hand then some must be provided.

Little Bit graciously gave the back side of the ship to The Boy. It's clams, starfish and way down at the bottom a treasure chest.

The kids decided to honor the builders by inscribing our names on the ship. Grandpa got the prime spot which put a smile on my face I'll never lose.

If you look just behind the swing you can see a cannon complete with cannon ball and lit fuse. I even hung Christmas lights on it.

Touched by angels it is now complete. A child's play area is not done until those it is meant for have christened it. When I look at it now I no longer view it as a blank canvas waiting for the master to create a work of art. It is whole, warm and inviting. It says "Here there be children". No captain ever had a finer vessel. No Papa ever had finer grandchildren. If what we create is a mirror of our souls then I am content. I made 2 small children happy. I better epitaph I cannot imagine.

Six

Dog Home Care

2011-12-06T14:45:00.000-07:00

Times are tough but we still have responsibilities and that includes our canine companions. Veterinary medical help is usually very reasonable and most vets will work with you on health care and medications for your beloved dog but what if even that's too much or not available? Here's a list of human meds that are safe and effective for dogs in times of trouble. It's a good list but not comprehensive. I've researched the list as best I can but I recommend you consult your vet before using them. He/she might have better info than I do about cheaper and more effective treatments. I've used some but not all of those listed on Trooper and/or Chrisi with good results. If you have other info please chime in.
Snivel words. I am not a veterinary doctor nor do I play one on TV. I did not stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. I'm just a dog owner and a prepper with internet access. Do your homework.
Six

30 Common Human Medicines for Dogs
• A & D Ointment: antibacterial for scrapes and wounds.
• Anbesol: topical anesthetic for mouth pain
• Artificial Tears: eye lubricant
• Aveeno Oatmeal Bath: soothing rinse for itchy skin
• Benadryl: antihistamine for bug bites-also makes pets sleepy
• Betadine: antiseptic for cleansing/soaking wounds or injuries
• Bufferin or Baby Aspirin: pain relief
• Burow's solution: topical antiseptic
• Caladryl: soothing topical for pain or itching
• Cortaid: anti-itch cream
• Desitin: for skin inflammation
• Dramamine: helpful for car sickness, nausea
• Dulcolax: for constipation
• Epsom salts: for soothing soak for sore paws
• Ipecac Syrup: to make dog vomit
• Kaopectate: to control diarrhea
• Lanacane: topical anesthetic
• Massengill Disposable Douche: body odor/skunk spray
• Metamucil (unflavored): for constipation
• Mylanta Liquid: for digestive problems and/or gas
• Neosporin: to help prevent wound infection
• Pedialyte: counteracts dehydration
• Pepcid AC: to control vomiting
• Pepto-Bismol: for diarrhea, nausea, vomiting
• Phillips' Milk of Magnesia: for constipation
• Preparation H: soothes sore bottom
• Robitussin Pediatric Cough Formula: cough suppressant
• Solarcaine: topical anesthetic, helpful for sunburn
• Vicks VapoRub: for congestion
• Witch hazel: topical antiseptic

23 Helpful Household Items
Just good stuff to have around the house for canine emergencies.
• Blanket/cookie sheet/ironing board: stretcher
• Bubble Wrap: stabilize leg fracture/injury
• Canned Pumpkin: for constipation or diarrhea
• Condoms: to cover injured/bleeding paw
• Dawn Dishwashing Soap: decontaminate fur
• Heat pad: for arthritis/aches
• Hose/sink spray: flushing wounds
• Hydrogen peroxide (3%): given orally to prompt vomiting
• Ice bag/frozen peas: topical pain control
• Karo syrup/honey: for shock
• KY Jelly: lubricant such as for eye out of socket
• Olive oil: to suffocate/kill ear mites
• Pliers: remove porcupine quills/foreign object in mouth
• Pantyhose/necktie: muzzle
• Mustache trimmer: clip fur around wounds
• Needle/Safety pin: acupuncture CPR
• Teabags, soaked and cooled: to treat hot spots
• Turkey baster: flush wounds, give liquid medicine
• Rectal thermometer
• Saran Wrap: seals wounds, holds bandage together without sticking to fur
• Sterile Saline Solution: flush wounds, eye injuries
• Squirt gun, squeeze bottle: give liquid medicine/flush wounds
• Yogurt: settle digestion, control gas

Sunday Kipling

2011-12-04T00:25:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday and it's a great day to be alive my friends. Kiss the one you love best. Say a prayer for our service men and women deployed in harms way. Be glad for your pain because it's that which reminds us of what it means to be human and free.
Six

Hymn to Physical Pain
"The Tender Achilles"
From "Limits and Renewals" (1932)

Dread Mother of Forgetfulness
Who, when Thy reign begins,
Wipest away the Soul's distress,
And memory of her sins.

The trusty Worm that dieth not--
The steadfast Fire also,
By Thy contrivance are forgot
In a completer woe.

Thine are the lidless eyes of night
That stare upon our tears,
Through certain hours which in our sight
Exceed a thousand years:

Thine is the thickness of the Dark
That presses in our pain,
As Thine the Dawn that bids us mark
Life's grinning face again.

Thine is the weariness outworn
No promise shall relieve,
That says at eve, "Would God 'twere morn"
At morn, "Would God 'twere eve!"

And when Thy tender mercies cease
And life unvexed is due,
Instant upon the false release
The Worm and Fire renew.

Wherefore we praise Thee in the deep,
And on our beds we pray
For Thy return that Thou may'st keep
The Pains of Hell at bay!

Trails And Dogs And Kids

2011-12-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

With the DO and the kids here my blogging has been light. That'll probably be the case for a while, we don't get to see them too often so that's where most of my focus is right now. One of the things we've been doing a lot of is hiking. It's educational plus both the kids and Angus get the exercise they need. Ok, me too. We've got a lot of trails and jeep roads in this area so the chances for adventure are high. There's plenty to see and we've even started some rock climbing classes. Little Bit enjoys the climbing but The Boy is a natural. He and Angus have already formed quite a bond. A boy and his dog, a dog and his boy.

Speaking of Angus. Isn't he a handsome boy? He's growing and maturing.

But he's still a puppy. He loves to run and these hikes are pure joy for him. He gets to wander and run and smell and just be free. That is one happy dog.

What's been amazing is Chrisi. She went into a deep depression after we lost Trooper. So bad we thought we were going to lose her. Then we brought in a certain small dog into her life. Her interest in life has returned and she's a changed dog. At 15 years old. Now every morning she comes to me and asks where we're going and can we go right now pleasepleaseplease?? It's been wonderful to see the change in her. She can't go fast but by golly she goes.

The areas where we hike is pretty rugged country. It's high desert and absolutely beautiful.

One of our favorite trails is Jem Trail. It runs through what was once a shallow sea. There are shale beds everywhere, prime fossil hunting territory. We're planning a picnic here so we can spend the time to thoroughly explore and look for remnants of ages past.

The intrepid safari leader.

Me, the DO and the lead dog. No one gets ahead of Angus.

Hopefully, now that we've had time to spend together, I'll be back to posting regularly but no promises. There's trails to hike, dogs to run and train and adventures to be had.

I think I see a nice rock face that's never been climbed by man, dog or child before. Just begging to be explored.

Six

Lots of Courage

2011-11-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

From a Forbes Article:

Joe Kittinger is not a household aviation name like Neil Armstrong or Chuck Yeager. But what he did for the U. S. space program is comparable.

Life photos from the Life website. Click image to be taken to the site.

On Aug. 16, 1960, as research for the then-fledgling U. S. space program, Air Force Captain Joseph Kittinger rode a helium balloon to the edge of space, 102,800 feet above the earth, a feat in itself. Then, wearing just a thin pressure suit and breathing supplemental oxygen, he leaned over the cramped confines of his gondola and jumped--into the 110-degree-below-zero, near-vacuum of space. Within seconds his body accelerated to 714mph in the thin air, breaking the sound barrier.After free-falling for more than four and a half minutes, slowed finally by friction from the heavier air below, he felt his parachute open at 14,000 feet, and he coasted gently down to the New Mexico desert floor. Kittinger's feat showed scientists that astronauts could survive the harshness of space with just a pressure suit and that man could eject from aircraft at extreme altitudes and survive.Upon Kittinger's return to base, a congratulatory telegram was waiting from the Mercury seven astronauts--including Alan Shepard and John Glenn.

More than four decades later Kittinger's two world records--the highest parachute jump, and the only man to break the sound barrier without an aircraft and live--still stand. We decided to visit the retired colonel and Aviation Hall of Famer, now 75, at his home in Altamonte Springs, Florida, to recall his historic jump.

FORBES GLOBAL: Take us back to New Mexico and Aug. 16, 1960.

Joe Kittinger: We got up at 2 a. m. to start filling the helium balloon. At sea level, it was 35 to 40 feet wide and 200 feet high; at altitude, due to the low air pressure, it expanded to 25 stories in width, and still was 20 stories high! At 4 a. m. I began breathing pure oxygen for two hours. That's how long it takes to remove all the nitrogen from your blood so you don't get the bends going so high so fast. Then it was a lengthy dress procedure layering warm clothing under my pressure suit. They kept me in air-conditioning until it was time to launch because we were in the desert and I wasn't supposed to sweat. If I did, my clothes would freeze on the way up.

How was your ascent?

It took an hour and a half to get to altitude. It was cold. At 40,000 feet, the glove on my right hand hadn't inflated. I knew that if I radioed my doctor, he would abort the flight. If that happened, I knew I might never get another chance because there were lots of people who didn't want this test to happen. I took a calculated risk, that I might lose use of my right hand. It quickly swelled up, and I did lose use for the duration of the flight. But the rest of the pressure suit worked. When I reached 102,800 feet, maximum altitude, I wasn't quite over the target. So I drifted for 11 minutes. The winds were out of the east.

What's it look like from so high up?

You can see about 400 miles in every direction. The formula is 1.25 x the sq. root of the altitude in thousands of feet. (The square root of 102,000 ft is 319 X 1.25 = 399 miles) The most fascinating thing is that it's just black overhead--the transition from normal blue to black is very stark. You can't see stars because there's a lot of glare from the sun, so your pupils are too small. I was struck with the beauty of it. But I was also struck by how hostile it is: more than 100 degrees below zero, no air. If my protection suit failed, I would be dead in a few seconds. Blood actually boils above 62, 000 feet. I went through my 46-step checklist, disconnected from the balloon’s power supply and lost all communication with the ground. I was totally under power from the kit on my back. When everything was done, I stood up, turned around to the door, took one final look out and said a silent prayer: "Lord, take care of me now." Then I just jumped over the side.

What were you thinking as you took that step?

It's the beginning of a test. I had gone through simulations many times--more than 100. I rolled over and looked up, and there was the balloon just roaring into space. I realized that the balloon wasn't roaring into space; I was going down at a fantastic rate! At about 90,000 feet, I reached 714mph. The altimeter on my wrist was unwinding very rapidly. But there was no sense of speed. Where you determine speed is visual--if you see something go flashing by. But nothing flashes by 20 miles up--there are no signposts there, and you are way above any clouds. When the chute opened, the rest of the jump was anticlimactic because everything had worked perfectly. I landed 12 or 13 minutes later, and there was my crew waiting. We were elated.

How about your right hand?

It hurt--there was quite a bit of swelling and the blood pressure in my arm was high. But that went away in a few days, and I regained full use of my hand.

Col. Kittinger, after he landed, via Air Force Heritage site.

What about attempts to break your record?

We did it for air crews and astronauts--for the learning, not to set a record. They will be going up as skydivers. Somebody will beat it someday. Records are made to be broken. And I'll be elated. But I'll also be concerned that they¹re properly trained. If they're not, they're taking a heck of a risk.

30 Days of Thanks- D30

2011-11-30T11:57:00.001-07:00

Wow, last day of my 30 Days of Thanks! First I have to thank you all for allowing me to post all my thoughts this last month; it has been quite fun to share bits of my life and myself with you all. Secondly, I have to thank the Six for allowing me to have a voice here, and to encourage my writing.

And so, to finish!

I think I'll end with the simplest thing I can be thankful for, and for the most profound gift we as humanity have been given: the ability to love, and to feel love in return. The joy of my children's faces, the touch of my husbands hand, the sound of my father's voice, the calmness of my mother's smile... Truly, from love comes all good things.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. It has been wonderful to keep myself in the place of thanks for this last month. It is truly amazing how a bit of thanks can change one's perspective so completely!

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D29

2011-11-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the kids and I get back into the swing of school and I had no choice but to be thankful that this nation is still one of freedom. I have the option of teaching my kids at home because, so far, the government has yet to claim that right in totality for themselves. It reminds me that the point of our nation was that the government was to protect us from those things we couldn't protect our selves from (i.e. the armies of other nations) and not to be the parents to my children. Nor to me, for that matter! So, at least for now, I am thankful that I live in a nation of freedom and of personal responsibility!

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D28

2011-11-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

This is the time of year when all eyes turn toward celebration. Sometimes celebration can be tiring and challenging, but it also reminds us that we are alive, and that people care about us. I try not to stress over my celebrations, I don't worry about getting every last Christmas activity done, I pay more attention to the fact that I get the chance to watch my kids discover the holidays, and what they mean to them. I'm intensely thankful that I get to experience anew all the joy of this time of year through them.

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D27

2011-11-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

I love getting lost in a project. Ever start something, some project doing something you love, and suddenly hours have gone by and you didn't even notice? I LOVE that feeling.

~The DO

Sunday Kipling

2011-11-26T22:49:00.000-07:00

My daughter and grandkids are here and my world is complete. Today we will decorate the house and our tree. The boy and I will char animal flesh over fire and we will eat like the tribe of fierce pirates that we are. I hope your day is as good as ours will be my friends.

This weeks Kipling is very long but well worth the read. Stay with it to the end. This is Kipling the master at his very best.
Six

The Sacrifice of Er-Heb

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai
Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai
Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence the tale
Comes westward o'er the peaks to India.

The story of Bisesa, Armod's child, --
A maiden plighted to the Chief in War,
The Man of Sixty Spears, who held the Pass
That leads to Thibet, but to-day is gone
To seek his comfort of the God called Budh
The Silent -- showing how the Sickness ceased
Because of her who died to save the tribe.

Taman is One and greater than us all,
Taman is One and greater than all Gods:
Taman is Two in One and rides the sky,
Curved like a stallion's croup, from dusk to dawn,
And drums upon it with his heels, whereby
Is bred the neighing thunder in the hills.

This is Taman, the God of all Er-Heb,
Who was before all Gods, and made all Gods,
And presently will break the Gods he made,
And step upon the Earth to govern men
Who give him milk-dry ewes and cheat his Priests,
Or leave his shrine unlighted -- as Er-Heb
Left it unlighted and forgot Taman,
When all the Valley followed after Kysh
And Yabosh, little Gods but very wise,
And from the sky Taman beheld their sin.

He sent the Sickness out upon the hills,
The Red Horse Sickness with the iron hooves,
To turn the Valley to Taman again.

And the Red Horse snuffed thrice into the wind,
The naked wind that had no fear of him;
And the Red Horse stamped thrice upon the snow,
The naked snow that had no fear of him;
And the Red Horse went out across the rocks,
The ringing rocks that had no fear of him;
And downward, where the lean birch meets the snow,
And downward, where the gray pine meets the birch,
And downward, where the dwarf oak meets the pine,
Till at his feet our cup-like pastures lay.

That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped,
Dropped as a cloth upon a dead man's face,
And weltered in the Valley, bluish-white
Like water very silent -- spread abroad,
Like water very silent, from the Shrine
Unlighted of Taman to where the stream
Is dammed to fill our cattle-troughs -- sent up
White waves that rocked and heaved and then were still,
Till all the Valley glittered like a marsh,
Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist
Knee-deep, so that men waded as they walked.

That night, the Red Horse grazed above the Dam,
Beyond the cattle-troughs. Men heard him feed,
And those that heard him sickened where they lay.

Thus came the Sickness to Er-Heb, and slew
Ten men, strong men, and of the women four;
And the Red Horse went hillward with the dawn,
But near the cattle-troughs his hoof-prints lay.

That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped,
Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, but rose
A little higher, to a young girl's height;
Till all the Valley glittered like a lake,
Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist.

That night, the Red Horse grazed beyond the Dam,
A stone's-throw from the troughs. Men heard him feed,
And those that heard him sickened where they lay.
Thus came the Sickness to Er-Heb, and slew
Of men a score, and of the women eight,
And of the children two.

Because the road
To Gorukh was a road of enemies,
And Ao-Safai was blocked with early snow,
We could not flee from out the Valley. Death
Smote at us in a slaughter-pen, and Kysh
Was mute as Yabosh, though the goats were slain;
And the Red Horse grazed nightly by the stream,
And later, outward, towards the Unlighted Shrine,
And those that heard him sickened where they lay.

Then said Bisesa to the Priests at dusk,
When the white mist rose up breast-high, and choked
The voices in the houses of the dead: --
"Yabosh and Kysh avail not. If the Horse
Reach the Unlighted Shrine we surely die.
Ye have forgotten of all Gods the Chief,
Taman!" Here rolled the thunder through the Hills
And Yabosh shook upon his pedestal.
"Ye have forgotten of all Gods the Chief
Too long." And all were dumb save one, who cried
On Yabosh with the Sapphire 'twixt His knees,
But found no answer in the smoky roof,
And, being smitten of the Sickness, died
Before the altar of the Sapphire Shrine.

Then said Bisesa: -- "I am near to Death,
And have the Wisdom of the Grave for gift
To bear me on the path my feet must tread.
If there be wealth on earth, then I am rich,
For Armod is the first of all Er-Heb;
If there be beauty on the earth," -- her eyes
Dropped for a moment to the temple floor, --
"Ye know that I am fair. If there be love,
Ye know that love is mine." The Chief in War,
The Man of Sixty Spears, broke from the press,
And would have clasped her, but the Priests withstood,
Saying: -- "She has a message from Taman."
Then said Bisesa: -- "By my wealth and love
And beauty, I am chosen of the God
Taman." Here rolled the thunder through the Hills
And Kysh fell forward on the Mound of Skulls.

In darkness, and before our Priests, the maid
Between the altars cast her bracelets down,
Therewith the heavy earrings Armod made,
When he was young, out of the water-gold
Of Gorukh -- threw the breast-plate thick with jade
Upon the turquoise anklets -- put aside
The bands of silver on her brow and neck;
And as the trinkets tinkled on the stones,
The thunder of Taman lowed like a bull.

Then said Bisesa, stretching out her hands,
As one in darkness fearing Devils: -- "Help!
O Priests, I am a woman very weak,
And who am I to know the will of Gods?
Taman hath called me -- whither shall I go?"
The Chief in War, the Man of Sixty Spears,
Howled in his torment, fettered by the Priests,
But dared not come to her to drag her forth,
And dared not lift his spear against the Priests.
Then all men wept.

There was a Priest of Kysh
Bent with a hundred winters, hairless, blind,
And taloned as the great Snow-Eagle is.
His seat was nearest to the altar-fires,
And he was counted dumb among the Priests.
But, whether Kysh decreed, or from Taman
The impotent tongue found utterance we know
As little as the bats beneath the eaves.
He cried so that they heard who stood without: --
"To the Unlighted Shrine!" and crept aside
Into the shadow of his fallen God
And whimpered, and Bisesa went her way.

That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped,
Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, and rose
Above the roofs, and by the Unlighted Shrine
Lay as the slimy water of the troughs
When murrain thins the cattle of Er-Heb:
And through the mist men heard the Red Horse feed.

In Armod's house they burned Bisesa's dower,
And killed her black bull Tor, and broke her wheel,
And loosed her hair, as for the marriage-feast,
With cries more loud than mourning for the dead.

Across the fields, from Armod's dwelling-place,
We heard Bisesa weeping where she passed
To seek the Unlighted Shrine; the Red Horse neighed
And followed her, and on the river-mint
His hooves struck dead and heavy in our ears.

Out of the mists of evening, as the star
Of Ao-Safai climbs through the black snow-blur
To show the Pass is clear, Bisesa stepped
Upon the great gray slope of mortised stone,
The Causeway of Taman. The Red Horse neighed
Behind her to the Unlighted Shrine -- then fled
North to the Mountain where his stable lies.

They know who dared the anger of Taman,
And watched that night above the clinging mists,
Far up the hill, Bisesa's passing in.

She set her hand upon the carven door,
Fouled by a myriad bats, and black with time,
Whereon is graved the Glory of Taman
In letters older than the Ao-Safai;
And twice she turned aside and twice she wept,
Cast down upon the threshold, clamouring
For him she loved -- the Man of Sixty Spears,
And for her father, -- and the black bull Tor,
Hers and her pride. Yea, twice she turned away
Before the awful darkness of the door,
And the great horror of the Wall of Man
Where Man is made the plaything of Taman,
An Eyeless Face that waits above and laughs.

But the third time she cried and put her palms
Against the hewn stone leaves, and prayed Taman
To spare Er-Heb and take her life for price.

They know who watched, the doors were rent apart
And closed upon Bisesa, and the rain
Broke like a flood across the Valley, washed
The mist away; but louder than the rain
The thunder of Taman filled men with fear.

Some say that from the Unlighted Shrine she cried
For succour, very pitifully, thrice,
And others that she sang and had no fear.
And some that there was neither song nor cry,
But only thunder and the lashing rain.

Howbeit, in the morning men rose up,
Perplexed with horror, crowding to the Shrine.
And when Er-Heb was gathered at the doors
The Priests made lamentation and passed in
To a strange Temple and a God they feared
But knew not.

From the crevices the grass
Had thrust the altar-slabs apart, the walls
Were gray with stains unclean, the roof-beams swelled
With many-coloured growth of rottenness,
And lichen veiled the Image of Taman
In leprosy. The Basin of the Blood
Above the altar held the morning sun:
A winking ruby on its heart: below,
Face hid in hands, the maid Bisesa lay.

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai
Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai
Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence the tale
Comes westward o'er the peaks to India.

Pirate Ship Update - Finished (Mostly)

2011-11-26T14:11:00.002-07:00

It's been a while since I posted about the Pirate Ship I was building for the grandkids. I managed to break Lu's camera and still haven't replaced it so when the DO got here she took some pics for me. Click any picture to enlarge.

Here's where we left off. The main cabin structure without siding and the beam laid on for measuring. No prow and no landscaping.

Because I was sans camera I didn't get any further build pictures so here's the finished project. I'll just have to talk you through what I did, how I did it and why. I was overruled on the whole two story thing by higher command. I just cut off the 4x4s at the rear of the ship and used the two in front as rigging. The 4x6 beam is bolted to the roof with the end held up by a 1/4 inch steel 4x4 that's 10 feet long. The steel 4x4 is set 3 feet into the ground with 160 pounds of concrete. The beam has a swing, a tire swing and a climbing rope.

The prow is set on another pier block and attached to the main cabin with 2x6 framing. The floor is OSB over 2x4 floor joists. When I decided against it being two stories I went ahead and roofed the main cabin with shingles. The sheathing is more OSB with 2x4s and 2x6s for support. Everything is either nailed or screwed together.

Lu and I were at an antique store when she found this rock. It's fiberglass and it is way cool. 75 bucks. I love finding stuff like this and it added a nice climbing rock to the play area.

We had some old fishing net floats that Lu contributed to the build. I hung them on the sides and used some nylon rope as rigging.

Here's another view of the swings. I wanted to keep the ship theme so used wood and rope everywhere I could. Lu tested everything out. Just to be sure it was safe of course.

You can see the steel 4x4 post here. At the top I took two pieces of angle iron, welded them together to form a U bracket, drilled it, welded it to the post and lag bolted the whole thing to the beam. It's solid as a rock. That was Sarges idea. I was going to use an A-frame but this is both stronger and takes up a lot less space.

I bought a small basketball goal and mounted it to the end. We're planning on having some epic HORSE games. I went down to Ace and bought two gallons of brown paint. The paint guy asked me what shade and I told him Pirate Ship Brown. He offered a color, I accepted and it's now officially known at my local hardware store as Ace Pirate Ship Brown. He still chuckles whenever I come in.

Every Pirate Ship needs protection and this one is no different. This is a gun ship not a sissy merchanter. If you look closely you can see the cannon mounted on the side of the prow. That is most emphatically not a Nerf gun. It's a period correct replica of a repeating cannon manufactured in the 17th century by Theodor Geisel Armaments commonly referred to as a Ma Seuss. It's NFA of course. You can also see inside the main cabin. There's a 4x4 post just inside the doorway that holds the ships wheel. I put down some old carpeting I had from the bathroom/hallway remodel for padding. It's snug, cozy and a great clubhouse.

All in all I'm please with the result. The ship measures out at 7 1/2 feet wide by 20 feet long and 8 1/2 feet high not including the spars. It's surrounded by outdoor carpeting with gravel around the whole thing. It has swings, ropes, a basketball hoop and a rock to climb. The kids seem to enjoy it so I'm calling it a success.

Here's a random photo of Angus enjoying the play area just because he's so cute.

The yard was originally dirt and weeds. Lu took care of the weeds and I covered the rest with landscaping fabric, outdoor grass carpeting and gravel. That's 10 tons of gravel I moved by wheelbarrow, shovel, rake and a 5 gallon bucket. Each and every pebble. It really looks quite nice with the ship surrounded by a green sea and gravel shoals. There's plenty to do and it's a nice place for adventures and fantastical voyages of imagination. I thoroughly enjoyed the build with enthusiastic help from Sarge and Lu. It was all done off the cuff and straight out of my head. I think that's called seat of the pants engineering. All you real engineers should probably just look away. I tended to over build and it's managed to stand up to hard play and the usual Hurricane winds. This place is aptly named. The kids are going to take some paint to it and decorate it to their hearts content. It also needs a name. Monikers are being bandied about and as soon as one is chosen it will be painted on the prow.

This was a true labor of love. We managed to turn a couple of hundred square feet of dirt, mud and weeds into a play area for the kids that will hopefully allow them good, clean fun and a chance to exercise their imaginations as well as their bodies. I hope it reflects that.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D26

2011-11-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

I am immensely thankful for imagination. Watching my kids play with Angus, out in the Pirate ship, making up games, is seriously amazing. They are so creative! My kids make books, build amazing Lego creations, are creative problem solvers, and they see life in an amazing way. Imagination allows for fascinating books, beautiful art, and fantastical science. Imagination allows for a more interesting world, for a more creative existence, and for a more fulfilled life.

~The DO

Return Of TheRedneckEngineer

2011-11-25T17:45:00.000-07:00

What with the arrival of the kids and all I missed the blog return of a favorite. TheRedneckEngineer is back and getting ready to blog again and that is a very good thing. People who can build guns from scratch and are willing to write up their projects are rare and precious folks. You can find a link to his site over on my blogroll.

Welcome back brother, we've missed you.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D25

2011-11-25T17:01:00.001-07:00

I'm late posting today, as we've been enjoying our Thanksgiving meal a day late but with much joy, love and laughter. Today I'm very thankful for the internet. It has allowed me to keep in contact with my family in way that you didn't use to be able to, making living so far away a bit easier.

~The DO

I'm not lazy Mr. President - I Am Boxer

2011-11-25T01:10:00.001-07:00

-I've had a job and earned an income for 44 years, since my first paper route when I was 8 years old.
-I've paid thousands (tens of thousands? hundreds of thousands?) of dollars in taxes, much of which has gone to feed the voracious appetite of the entitlement programs of this country.
-I pay my debts, including my mortgages and college expenses for myself ad my wife to earn our degrees and professional diplomas so we could increase our earning power and spend more money on taxes.
-I've given freely to charity.
-My chosen professions have damaged my body and left me with injuries that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
-I have shunned the spotlight and declined notoriety for it's own sake.
-I have helped those who needed me and protected those who could not protect themselves.
-I voluntarily wore the uniform of my country and swore myself to her defense.
-I have laid my life on the line in defense of the freedoms enumerated in the Constitution and Bill of Rights.
-I have given first aid to the injured and had some of them die in my arms.
-I have never asked for a thing beyond a fair chance to make my own way in the world.
-I am obliged to no one and don't ask anyone else to be obliged to me.
-I am a gun owner who has never used a firearm to take anothers life though I am prepared to defend anyone from the horrors inflicted on the innocent by the evil.
-I have never sought to be thought a victim for my own ill choices.
-I have done harm and sought forgiveness. I have had harm done to me and forgiven.
-I have done all this and more without complaint and I am not alone. Most of my fellow countrymen have done and endured far more than I.
-All my life has been spent in the pursuit of excellence and Independence. My share of the American Dream. That vision may not be shared by all but that is the very essence of what it means to be American. Our dreams may vary but the idea that we are masters of our own fate, beholden to none, independent entities free to pursue our idea of Happiness without coercion of others is ultimately what separates us from the rest of the world.
-The president says I am lazy, that I need to do more. The occupy protesters say I owe them what I have earned, that I need to give them more.

-The words of the President and the violent crowds screaming for my blood and that of those just like me makes me grieve for a nation filled with the indolent, the narcissistic, the immature and the ignorant. I, and those millions of Americans just like me, have labored for decades to do a little more with a little less. We have searched for ways to work just a little harder, a little longer. Striven to make and keep America great only to see it being sold to the glue factory for the price of a barrel of whiskey.
-I say the President is right, I haven't done enough. Here's my answer to OWS and you Mr. President.
-I am Boxer, magnificent yet flawed with too much trust and too little suspicion. The one who's motto was "I will work Harder". I am neither Napoleon not Squealer. Honest, hard working Americans work, they do not connive and seek power over others. So I will work harder. To make sure the OWS legacy is remembered as ignorant, psychopathic violence masquerading as social justice. To make sure you Mr. President are remembered as the one term, abject failure that you are and nothing more. To ensure my grandchildren grow up in a free and prosperous America.
-Yes, I am Boxer but one who has learned his lessons at great pain. I will work harder but somehow I don't think you and ows crowd will be happy about it Mister President.
-Vote them out. Vote them all out.
Six

Happy Thanksgiving To You

2011-11-24T12:45:00.000-07:00

My daughter has been posting the 30 days of Thanksgiving all this month. I'll add my voice to hers. I am truly thankful for her and my beautiful grandchildren as well as a son-in-law who has treated them so well and givenb their care over to us so many times without complaint. I can't wait to see them in just a few hosrt hours. My heart sings with joy.

I am also thankful for each and every one of you out there who visit with us and leave us your precious thoughts and ideas. You have shown me so much kindness and support I cannot begin to show my respect and admiration for you.

Happy Thanksgiving my friends. May you celebrate this and many more with those you love.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D24

2011-11-24T02:30:00.000-07:00

(After Vienna with my husband yesterday, the kids and I are on a plane today on our way home)

(All the Rockwell photos found here)

Family, friends, home, peace, joy.

Thanksgiving is an awesome day, one of my very favorites, and I'm very thankful I'll be getting to spend it with family.

I'm also very thankful for the Wright Brothers, since it will take me 17 hours, and not 17 weeks, to get from Hungary to Utah today!

Happy Thanksgiving all, may it be truly blessed.

~The DO

Challenge Update

2011-11-23T10:15:00.000-07:00

So far so good. It's been tough but with the support of family and friends (Thanks Laura and Michael!!!) I'm within spitting distance (Pun!!) of my goal. The first few days were the worst but it's getting better. Late evening walks with Lu, Chrisi and Angus are helping. Lu has even turned over the decision on her holster over to me so at least she's confident. The DO and the grandkids will be here tomorrow and that will also help. I can't wait to see them tomorrow.

Michael, I hope all is well with you. Hang in there my friend. The finish line is in sight!

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D23

2011-11-23T02:00:00.000-07:00

(We are all in Vienna today enjoying our last European city trip before we move, hence my thoughts about moving!)

I am beyond thankful that the military moves us, rather than having to do it myself. Nothing beats telling other people what to pack, and where to put it!

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D22

2011-11-22T02:12:00.000-07:00

I'm thankful for Hungary, and for the Hungarians, and for the people of Pápa. I know I've done the whole living abroad thing already in this 30, but as I sit here on my last full day in this country, perhaps never to return, I'm a bit nostalgic. Hungary has been good to us, and it is a great place to live and to travel. A new chapter is exciting, but sometimes it's hard to turn the page...

~The DO

God, Gals, Guns, Grub On Carrying

2011-11-21T18:04:00.001-07:00

Dann brings the big guns out and intelligently opines on a topic near and dear to my heart. What do you bring to the gunfight? I wrote about this in September, Carry as much gun as you can, but Dann does it better.

While you're at it head on over to Brigid's place and peruse her writings on this as well as many other firearms subjects. Tam might have written one or two posts that might possibly be on topic. How about Miguel or Fred or Murphy's Law or Borepatch or Frank or Michael or Keads or The Mad Ogre or Rourke or Mr. Completely or North or ASM826 or Say Uncle or Breda or Kevin or Oleg or WhenTheBalloonGoesUp or, well, you get the idea (and my apologies to anyone I missed, it was unintentional. I get easily distracted by shiny things).

My point is that there's a wealth of information out there just in my blogroll. People who are educated and experienced and who have nothing to sell and no hidden agenda beyond a desire to voluntarily give of the knowledge they've gained in lifetimes of effort and sometimes dangerous work. People we should all read, listen to and heed. And they're just the literal tip of the iceberg. A casual perusal of their writings and blogrolls yields a veritable wealth of folks who have been there and done that when it comes to firearms and self defense. And here's the funny thing. None of them, not a single one, will look you in the eye and tell you they are the be all/end all of shooting and bad guy defeating. It's the instructors responsibility to justify their teachings and advice and everyone who opines on these subjects is presenting themselves as teachers or subject matter experts and yes, that does include me and this very post. Don't be afraid to call BS when you see it. A good instructor welcomes hard questions.

For me the bottom line is this. Do your homework. Ask questions (and in that vein question everything you're told). Be a cautious consumer. Take everything with a large grain of salt. Ask yourself (and whatever source you're considering) what they're selling, especially if it's themselves. I've been to a lot of shooting/self defense classes and all instructors are not created equal. By the same token, someone I hate may be the bee's knees for you. Like instructors, students are as different as their needs and learning abilities. It's your money, spend it wisely.

I'll end this scribbling with something I've said many times and will continue to say. The 'experts' may be right or they may be wrong on any given subject but which they are depends on you; who you are, what you want, what you need and what you can afford. Knowing that is the beginning of wisdom in a field rife with gadgets, charlatans, tactical cool, fan boys, big boys and a disappointing tendency toward a herd mentality.

Carry. Carry what you can, what you believe in, what you can afford but carry. Train. Beg, borrow or steal the best instruction you can find and afford. This is an area which surprisingly does not follow the 'you get what you pay for' meme. There's an awful lot of very good free information out there if you dig a little. There's also an awful lot of high priced ignorance and stupidity. Figuring out which is which and who is who is the essence of becoming and staying an informed shooter. Discernment isn't just a fancy word, it's a requirement. And if someone calls you a fool because you don't carry what they recommend or train the same way they do then consider the source, learn what you can of value from them and move on. Self defense is a subject that is vitally important and it's far too easy to get discouraged by the ramblings of the self described elite. The mall ninja meme is funny right up to the point where you've paid for it and the price might be very dear indeed.

A big Thank You to all the gunnies on my list (and those I neglected to mention). I have learned something important from each and every one of you. And it didn't cost me a thing except a little time. Your efforts may go essentially unrewarded on the web but they don't go unappreciated. I hope you continue.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D21

2011-11-21T02:30:00.000-07:00

Tap water. I'm so very thankful for tap water. Imagine having to walk a mile roundtrip to the town well for water. Drinking, washing, you name it, you have to haul it in on foot. Yeah... I'm thankful for the tap!!

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D20

2011-11-20T08:33:00.001-07:00

I'm thankful to Monsieur Eiffel for his fantastic temporary structure, and especially for the fact that originally the Parisians HATED it! Irony, how I love thee!

~The DO

Sunday Kipling

2011-11-20T05:50:00.001-07:00

The pirate ship is nearly complete. I'll post pictures as soon as I can, the camera is well and truly dead.
I've got 4 of the prettiest pork loin chops you've ever seen and I hear the grill calling.
It's been 5 days. I'm doing Ok but the bodies are beginning to stack up in the back yard. I'm going to have to do something about them pretty soon.
My daughter and grandchildren will be here in a matter of just a few days and I can't wait to see them.
I'm going to start working my way through some of Kiplings more obscure works. Perhaps not as well known but, in my opinion, some of his very best work.
I hope you all have a great Sunday my friends.
Six

The Coastwise Lights

Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees;
Our loins are battered 'neath us by the swinging, smoking seas.
From reef and rock and skerry -- over headland, ness, and voe --
The Coastwise Lights of England watch the ships of England go!

Through the endless summer evenings, on the lineless, level floors;
Through the yelling Channel tempest when the siren hoots and roars --
By day the dipping house-flag and by night the rocket's trail --
As the sheep that graze behind us so we know them where they hail.

We bridge across the dark and bid the helmsman have a care,
The flash that wheeling inland wakes his sleeping wife to prayer;
From our vexed eyries, head to gale, we bind in burning chains
The lover from the sea-rim drawn -- his love in English lanes.

We greet the clippers wing-and-wing that race the Southern wool;
We warn the crawling cargo-tanks of Bremen, Leith, and Hull;
To each and all our equal lamp at peril of the sea --
The white wall-sided war-ships or the whalers of Dundee!

Come up, come in from Eastward, from the guardports of the Morn!
Beat up, beat in from Southerly, O gipsies of the Horn!
Swift shuttles of an Empire's loom that weave us, main to main,
The Coastwise Lights of England give you welcome back again!

Go, get you gone up-Channel with the sea-crust on your plates;
Go, get you into London with the burden of your freights!
Haste, for they talk of Empire there, and say, if any seek,
The Lights of England sent you and by silence shall ye speak!

30 Days of Thanks- D19

2011-11-19T02:30:00.000-07:00

Unlike the supposed 99%, I am thankful that I have a husband willing to work hard for what we have, and that we have enough money to enjoy life. However, I'm also thankful that we don't have so much that we become douches!

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D18

2011-11-18T02:30:00.000-07:00

Kisses from my kids. Can't get more simple, or more moving, than that for me.

~The DO

Yeah, He Might Be Better Than Me. Just A Little.

2011-11-17T22:54:00.000-07:00

I've been riding powered two wheelers for about 45 years now. I've been to police motorcycle school, spent better than 10 years enforcement riding, even have 22 laps at Laguna Seca at speed on a ZX6. I have skills.

This guy? He makes me feel bad about myself. As though I've suddenly discovered that those streamers coming from the handlebar grips of my Barbie Princess bicycle don't actually make me cool.

Yeah, I can't do that. Don't ask.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D17

2011-11-17T02:30:00.000-07:00

I am very thankful for clothing, food, shelter and warmth. Even more, I am thankful that my family and I don't struggle to maintain any of the above. We have more than we need, and we are very blessed for it. Beyond that, I'm thankful that I have an amazing family that would drop everything to help me were I in a situation where I had lost the above. Not feeling alone in my attempt to take care of my kids is priceless.

~The DO

HS822

2011-11-16T21:24:00.000-07:00

Murphy's Law has the write up but it passed the house. It needs to be brought to an up or down vote in the Senate so if passed will go to obama's desk. If nothing else it'll make the antigun senators and the President show their true colors. ML has including a vote list. Go RTWT.
Six

A Challenge

2011-11-16T11:51:00.002-07:00

Michael, master holster maker and general leather crafter, has decided it's time to quit smoking. It's a very tough thing to do and when I read about it I went over to his blog to leave him some words of support. Reading his words, I got inspired.

I don't smoke but I do have a habit just as bad. I dip Skoal. Have for about 30 years. I've tried to quit and failed a few times. I always thought I'd do it one day but one day turned into two, then weeks, months, years and I still have that monkey riding me like a rented mule. So I made Michael a wager of sorts.

If we can both kick our respective habits by the end of the year I'll take the money I would have spent feeding my addiction and use it to purchase one of Michael's beautiful custom holsters for Lu. Talk about motivation. I dropped the comment with the challenge on Michael and he's all in. Because that's just the kind of guy he is. Now we both have a carrot dangling before us as well. Can you say Win/Win?

I can't decide if Lu's cheering us on for the health benefits or because there's a beautiful holster awaiting her should we be successful. (I'm betting on the health thing because that's just who she is but that holster is pretty darn nice icing)

Michael, thank you for the inspiration and taking me up on this challenge, it's just what I needed to do what I should have done a long time ago. As a man who has built his own business out of his courage and skills I know you can do it and hopefully drag me along on your coattails. I do fancy myself as a man with a certain amount of discipline so know that I am committed to wholehearted to this. Hang in there my brother, we're adding money to our pockets and cancer free years to our lives.

Good luck to us both. Words of encouragement to two men trying to give up the scourge of nicotine addiction will be greatly appreciated. Lu has promised not to take any sudden attack of the grumpies by yours truly personally. Angus has promised to take me for lots of walks. I've got a store of gum laid in.

I'm ready.

Today is Day One for me.

Six

Update: Michael left me a comment that maybe others might want to join us so I'll invite anyone with a tobacco jones to join us in kicking the habit. I'm on day one but Michael is tobacco free since Saturday. Angus is doing his part, he hauled me and Chrisi out to Jem Trail for a nice hike.

30 Days of Thanks- D16

2011-11-16T02:30:00.000-07:00

Music. Need I say more? Well, alright then. I'm thankful not just for the music I love, and the ability to enjoy it, but also the ability to pass it on to my kids and watch them fall in love with what I love. 'Course it IS heartbreaking when they hate your favorite stuff!!

(The Six's song that I grew up with and love)

(My song that my daughter is growing up with and loves)

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D15

2011-11-15T01:50:00.000-07:00

Some of the most important things are those that are the simplest. I am so grateful for the warmth of the sun, especially in the spring when it feels like it will never be warm again. And the coolness of the fall breeze when you were sure it was NEVER going to be cool outside again. The sense of change, renewal, of the next cycle and of life ever after. Each change is a reminder that nothing lasts forever, the good or the bad. I'm on the precipice of a major change and I've been reminded by the change in weather that change can bring on amazing new situations.

~The DO

I Love It When Hippies Cry - Video

2011-11-14T14:47:00.000-07:00

My heart is as warm as NPR producer Marshall Terry's tummy.

Butch up sissy boy.
Six

30 Days of Thanks- D14

2011-11-14T02:30:00.000-07:00

(My little Hungarian POS)

Transportation rocks! It took me 30 min each way to walk my kids to school, but 5 to drive. And it had heat, and air conditioning. Yeah, I'm thankful for cars. The cooler the car the better, but wheels are wheels!

~The DO

Sunday Kipling

2011-11-13T11:15:00.001-07:00

Angus handled the surgery well and he's doing fine. The staff at the Vet are now completely in love with him (which was his nefarious plan all along). The 49ers are 7-1 and I get to see the game today. I think I'll go find something in the freezer for dinner.
It's gonna be a great day. Hope yours is as well.
Six

Gunga Din

You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! Slippy hitherao!
Water, get it! Panee lao! [Bring water swiftly.]
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a piece o' twisty rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
In a sidin' through the day,
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
We shouted "Harry By!" [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O brother."]
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some juldee in it [Be quick.]
Or I'll marrow you this minute [Hit you.]
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
With 'is mussick on 'is back, [Water-skin.]
'E would skip with our attack,
An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
'E was white, clear white, inside
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
It was "Din! Din! Din!"
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could hear the front-ranks shout,
"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I shan't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died,
"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
At the place where 'e is gone --
Where it's always double drill and no canteen.
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

30 Days of Thanks- D13

2011-11-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

(My husbands feet on the black sand beaches of Santorini)

I love the beach with a passion, and there are few things in life more fun than spending the day at the ocean. I am so thankful for the chances I've had to feel the sand between my toes. I'm also thankful that I can look forward to the next 3 years living on the Gulf coast.

~The DO

Profiting From The Murder Of Innocents

2011-11-12T13:08:00.001-07:00

I was a street cop for more than 24 years. In that time I investigated basically every crime imaginable, from the minor to the horrific. That includes the depredations some are so capable of inflicting on those weaker than themselves.

I ran across this article on some websites that are auctioning or otherwise selling and profiting from the works and scribblings of the most vile and evil amongst us.

I understand the nature of the market about as well as any other ignorant line dog layman. Find or create a product or service. Create a business and marketing plan. Sell your product/service for what the market will bear. Expand your inventory and customer base and grow your business. Make money. Get rich. It's the American Way.

But.

I find it beyond contemptible to profit from the death and suffering of the innocent. I've been there. I've seen the blood and horror and the ugly death. I've seen the torn bodies and the tears of inconsolable family and loved ones. I've looked stone cold killers in the eyes and seen the evil, the dispassion, the total lack of remorse. Eyes, not of predators but of scavengers. Jackals who kill the sick and weak and then only when the Lion isn't around to teach them the lesson of who the true predators are.

Those who sell the 'memorabilia of murder' are doing more harm than just making a buck from the suffering of past victims, they're advertising those murderers. Their product is the lunatic ravings and disturbing effects and images of those who have committed the very worst crimes imaginable. They're offering them up as if they were no more than a signed baseball or an autograph from the latest celebrity fad. They're keeping them in the public eye and presenting them to us as something worthy, even desirable.

Whether you support the death penalty or not (I do. I think it does more good than harm) clearly even those not scheduled for an appointment with the executioner deserve to do their time in darkness and anonymity. Their memory should fade as their lives tick away in a cell. Their writings, images and thoughts should die with them. Forgotten and dishonored. We, as a civilized society, owe it to those we failed to protect and their loved ones who must endure every day with the memories of the departed and the circumstances of their death. To keep the memory of these sadistic and depraved murderers alive is spitting in the face of every innocent victim touched by their evil.

They are in fact our monsters. In them there is nothing to admire. Nothing to inspire. Nothing that should endure. Every thing they have done, every thing they have produced, every thing they have touched should be destroyed and they should be utterly forgotten by a nation that abhors them. To do less is to stamp their actions with a seal of approval and inspire others to emulate them so they too can become famous.

May they and those who would celebrate them suffer as they have caused suffering.

Six

30 Days of Thanks-D12

2011-11-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

St. George (not Saint George) Utah. Aka, the Motherland

(Not my photo. Snagged it from Flickr. Click the photo to be taken to his page)
I am very thankful for my family and friends. Though odd and interesting, they love me andaccept me. Helps that they are all odd and interesting as well! The apple and tree and all that, I suppose. The kids and I will have the chance to spend 2+ months in the old homeland, down the street from cousins, and next door to great grandparents. I will get to go shopping with some cousins, stay up way too late wandering around the Walmarts with others (yes I like American made, yes I still shop Wally world), talk football with the husbands, homeschooling with an uncle, and be amazed, as always, that I'm related to all these crazy and wonderful people.

~The DO

A New Take On The Firing Of ISAF General MG Peter Fuller

2011-11-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

TheObserver over at GiftOfFreedom has a new post up about the firing of the ISAF general who spoke (truthfully) about the remarks that Hamid Karzai made about siding with the Paki's should we ever find ourselves trading shots with them. Read it here.

What I found interesting was TheObserver's opinion that Karzai might be positioning himself for survival in a post American Afghanistan. It doesn't change my feelings that he's an ungrateful SOB but it's food for thought.

While you're there check out the rest of the posts at GiftOfFreedom. He's a Marine veteran and another voice of reason and logic in an increasingly chaotic America.

Six

Veterans Day Kipling

2011-11-11T10:14:00.000-07:00

America exists still because of those who have served her. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard. They have placed themselves "between home and the wars desolation". They have served because they recognized that there is a greater good than self. A greater need than personal safety and comfort. They have proved that they value something above themselves and even those they served with.
There's a lot of doom and gloom out there. Many who say America is dying. On her last legs with only her funeral and the division of spoils left to be seen. I reject that totally. I do that because there remains within the breast of my beloved country a hard core of resistance, embodied in, but by no means limited to, our veterans. Americans who see their duty clearly and take up their share of the burden with a pure heart, a clear vision and an iron will. As long as we can still produce such men and women we cannot be destroyed. Such as these do not quail before a difficult task but rise up and shout their defiance to the very Heavens.
We will never falter. We will never Fear. We will never Fail. And Woe to those who would attempt to cast us down because our retribution will be fearsome to behold.
Thank you to our veterans, who by their very service remind us of who we are.
We. Are. Americans!
Six

Tommy

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Remembrance

2011-11-11T07:07:00.000-07:00

Counted amongst the Veterans of our nation are the Six, Sarge, and myself, as well as my late Uncle Ken. The Six, Sarge, and I bought the continued freedom of our nation with our time, Ken paid for it with his life. For all those men and women that gallantly gave all, we salute you.

(American Military Cemetery, Normandy France. Taken by me, on a very emotional day.)

My husband is still active duty, and so my family still serves. His time away, and our sacrifice is worth it to make sure our shores and way of life are safe. We as a nation are very lucky to have had so many good men and women feel the same. I tend towards embarrassment when people thank me for serving, I'll admit. My job wasn't that important, and I wasn't in that much danger. I guess I don't feel that I did any more than anyone else could have. The Sarge was in 'Nam, for crying out loud. Sitting in an office all day surfing the internet, Secret internet or not, just doesn't seem that valiant to me. When I sat in that cemetary I thought not just of what these men gave up, but also the lives affected that went on. They all gave of themselves, even if some made it home at the end of the day. And so, yes, they probably said what I'm saying: it wasn't that big a deal, I didn't pay like those boys paid, they are the heroes. And yet to me they are every bit as heroic. Their lack of death didn't diminish their efforts in fighting for freedom. In that vein I try to be more accepting of the thanks of this day. We serve because we can, to defend those that can't.

~The DO

30 Days of Thanks- D11

2011-11-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

My Cherry Tree.

This summer was the first time in my adult life that I harvest a crop from my lands (granted, those lands are rented) and created a meal from that crop. Okay, so it was a few bucketfuls of cherries, and two cherry crisps, but still. It was a neat experience to be connected to my food source, and one that the kids and I want to recreate at the new house.

~The DO

Angus And The Snip Of Doom

2011-11-10T21:35:00.000-07:00

I take him to the Vet tomorrow for that procedure that makes every guy out there cringe and cover up his....below the belt area. I drop him off before 9 and can pick him up at 2.

Please keep a good thought for poor Angus. And yours truly as well. No telling how he's going to feel about me afterward. I hate to do it to him but it's really for the best.

Sorry Pal.
Six

Happy Birthday USMC

2011-11-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

I was Army, Sarge was Army and DO was Air Force but we hold no animosity toward our Marine Corps. brothers and sisters. In fact, this is how we feel about OUR Marines. Warning: NSFW for language.

From the video's creator:
Not your normal "Mot Video" but this video will make you think twice about the men and women in the Marine Corps. Against GySgt Walgrens request I recorded his speach in secret..... the result is this awesome video with the last words we heard before boarding helos and heading into the heart of Marjeh. Have you ever wondered how Marines get pumped up? This video will show you how true leaders inspire their Marines to do the unthinkable.

Our Marine Corps. How we do love you, each and every one. And how grateful we are for your service, your sacrifices and just being the baddest ass-kickers on the face of the Earth. Ooh Rah! The Warrior Class does loves us some Devil Dogs.
Six

30 Days of Thanks-D10

2011-11-10T01:03:00.000-07:00

Power!! Yep, I am very thankful for electricity. I've listened to all the gymnastics family and friends have been going through back in Mass with no power since before Halloween! As I sit in my toasty warm house, with my fridge humming away, typing on my computer, with lights on, I am thankful.

~The DO

Video Of The Week

2011-11-09T15:08:00.000-07:00

I know you're all reading Ras regularly but if you happened to miss this you must go there and watch it. Now. I'm going to be singing that all week.

"I'm going in for guns". Awesome. Now I either need to grab some shootin' irons and exercise my inner gunfighter or I just need to use the bathroom. Either way.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D9

2011-11-09T01:18:00.000-07:00

(Not my stack of books. I got it off the interweb somewhere... Er... Don't remember where.)

I'm a major reader. So is the Six, Lu, my husband, Sarge, MIL, and my husbands mother. There is a lot of reading going on in my family!! The Kindle has made my life easier by far, as now all my husbands never-to-be-read-again hardcover books aren't stacked everywhere in my house anymore! My stacks are more contained.

I am incredibly thankful for my literacy. I love reading. I must read. I read to research nutrition, homeschooling, history, and science, and I read for fun history, literature, and sci-fi. Without reading I'm lost. I wouldn't know how to research, I would get seriously bored, and I would be a lot dumber about a lot of things. And as much as I love my Kindle (and I do. I'll be carrying 500+ Kindle books with me on the plane in a few weeks) I still love books. Real books, heavy books, musty books, yellowed books, honest books. I like my research books hardcopy because there is a neural connection made for me between a passage read and the sensory input of the book it was in. I'm very thankful for the options I have now a days. I can order a book instantly online, straight to my Kindle to enjoy. Or I can choose to wait, to buy a book and integrate its feel into my reading experience.

I am so thankful, as well, to those authors that put themselves out there to write. Worlds brought to life, people made real, and stories enacted through pure imagination. What an amazing medium, writing.

So now I'm off to read to my kids, to pass literacy and love of books on.

~The DO

What Would A Man Do?

2011-11-08T16:45:00.000-07:00

I'm going to rant again. This is an area very near to me and I feel compelled to answer those who are supporting and defending some of the involved parties in this travesty. Warning, not safe for children.

I have one response to Penn State staff and Joe Paterno defenders. Fuck You. Is that clear enough?

By this time you've all seen the headlines and possibly the story out of Penn State. To say the whole affair is rephehensible is to call the Sun kinda big. It's an atrocity and everyone involved, from Paterno on down should lose their jobs, their freedom and their reputations forever.

Take a minute and peruse this time line. Pay particular attention to these six entries;

Fall 2000—A janitor named James Calhoun observes Sandusky in the showers of the Lasch Football Building with a young boy, known as Victim 8, pinned up against the wall, performing oral sex on the boy. He tells other janitorial staff immediately. Fellow Office of Physical Plant employee Ronald Petrosky cleans the showers at Lasch and sees Sandusky and the boy, who he describes as being between the ages of 11 and 13.

Calhoun tells other physical plant employees what he saw, including Jay Witherite, his immediate supervisor. Witherite tells him to whom he should report the incident. Calhoun was a temporary employee and never makes a report. Victim 8's identity is unknown.

March 1, 2002—A Penn State graduate assistant enters the locker room at the Lasch Football Building. In the showers, he sees a naked boy, known as Victim 2, whose age he estimates to be 10 years old, being subjected to anal intercourse by a naked Sandusky. The graduate assistant tells his father immediately.

March 2, 2002—In the morning, the graduate assistant calls Coach Joe Paterno and goes to Paterno's home, where he reports what he has seen.

March 3, 2002—Paterno calls Tim Curley, Penn State Athletic Director to his home the next day and reports a version of what the grad assistant had said.

March 2002—Later in the month the graduate assistant is called to a meeting with Curley and Senior Vice President for Finance and Business Gary Schultz. The grad assistant reports what he has seen and Curley and Schultz say they will look into it.

March 27, 2002 (approximate)—The graduate assistant hears from Curley. He is told that Sandusky's locker room keys are taken away and that the incident has been reported to The Second Mile. The graduate assistant is never questioned by university police and no other entity conducts an investigation until the graduate assistant testifies in Grand Jury in December 2010.

At least two men, Calhoun and an unnamed graduate assistant physically saw Sandusky having sex with pre-teen boys and do not intervene. They left those boys to their fate. Left them. Who do they report the crime to? Superiors and supervisors. They passed off their responsibility as men, as human beings, to others assuming that those men would do what they themselves failed to do. It wasn't their own lives and safety they were playing with but that of two innocent boys and many more who came later. It all could have been stopped in the Fall of 2000 at the very least with a simple 911 phone call. Hell, they could have reported it anonymously but they didn't. I simply cannot fathom anyone who would abandon those boys at that moment. It beggars incredulity.

Paterno reports it to the AD who does....Nothing. The Vice president for Finance and Business is told and he does...Nothing. Paterno tells the Ad and then does...nothing. Three senior men, leaders and molders of young minds, who didn't just fail those two boys they consigned those who came after them to the same fate at the hands of a human predator who deserves nothing more than a bullet and an unmarked grave.

Let's define a few terms here, Child Molestation and Child Sexual Abuse are RAPE, nothing less. Sex with an innocent child is rape pure and simple. Words like molestation and abuse dilute the seriousness of the crime and lessen it's impact on the public who hears about such depravity. Those two boys, at the very least, were raped by Sandusky.

Let's play a what if game. What if that janitor or graduate assistant witnessed two players fighting? What if one of those players, larger and stronger than the other began choking his weaker and smaller opponent. Even absent seeing the actual death would it be reasonable to assume the crime of murder was happening before their very eyes? Would they be expected to tell a supervisor, coach, AD or Vice President and hope for the best? Would it be considered cowardly if they had refused to intervene or at the very least grab a phone and dial 911?

Everyone involved who didn't try to intervene and stop these crimes is a coward and a criminal, period. My wife Lu, all 5 feet nothing of her, would have done everything she could have, even at the cost of her own life, to stop such an act had she witnessed it and if told about such behavior she would have reported it and the names of the involved to the police. Without hesitation and without delay and damn the consequences. Would any of you have done different? I don't think so.

I am sick to death of the apologists and those who turn a wilfully blind eye to the wanton criminal behavior of beasts like Sandusky. Whether under the guise of a church, wayward child program or a university, those who fail to protect the weak and helpless are vile and deserve to be excoriated from the face of the earth. I have no sympathy, no concern and no regard for such as they and that most emphatically includes Joe Paterno. Paterno had a chance to step up as both a man and as a leader and he chose to not do so. The moment he was told about the actions of Sandusky it was incumbent on him, as it was on all the rest, to do everything in his power to bring the assaults to an end and ensure to one else was raped or harmed by that monster.That he failed in that most basic duty of all men tells me all I need to know about his character. Say it with me; Aided and Abetted.

I unconditionally repudiate Joe Paterno and the rest of those failures and spit upon their memories. May that university and all their works fade into nothingness. And don't give me Mandated Reporter. Every single human being who sees or is even aware of such crimes is morally mandated to report it to the police, not their chain of command. Some things are beyond discomfort and a desire to protect reputatons. Rape is a crime second only to Murder and you have to go a very long way to convince me that they aren't equally horrendous. Death Penalty for Rape? Sign me up as a supporter, especially for the rape of children and as far as I'm concerned all sexual contact with minors is rape of a child.

The only victims here, and they are victims in the truest sense of the word, are the little boys who were raped by a monster straight out of every child's nightmares and abandoned to their fate by the uncaring. No parent worthy of the name could stand by and watch such or hear about it without doing all in their power to see the rapist brought to immediate justice.

I have run out of words to describe my feelings here. I am at a loss for explanations and answers. My attempts to convey my outrage, abhorrence and heart sickness are inadequate. It is beyond my ability to understand such alleged men and their actions. If this isn't black and white I don't know what is. There is no grey area here. It is evil incarnate. The inability or refusal to protect our children is our very end as a species and if this is what we've come to then we are already lost.

May God forgive us.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D8

2011-11-08T07:56:00.001-07:00

(Disneyland, 1990, in case it was all too subtle)

I am very thankful for my folks: the Six and Lu. We had a serious amount of fun as I was growing up, and they taught me the most valuable lessons of all: love of family, perseverance, and integrity.

(I'm sure I wasn't that bad a kid! Really, I was an angel, I swear.)

My folks have opened their house to us with no reservations. More than once, in fact. This up coming trip will make the 5th 6+ week trip in their home over the last 4 years. They must love us!

(Were I standing up straight, you would be able to see the we were the same height. I was 11. Yes, she's that short.)

I am an only child, and had a very close relationship with my parents. I am beyond lucky to have been raised by these two characters. They've certainly helped make me weirdo I am today.

~The DO

America's First Jet Flight

2011-11-07T21:03:00.000-07:00

Passed on by Sarge. I've never seen this particular video before. It's a good one.
From Aircraft Owner Online.
Six

Mmmmmm. Sausage

2011-11-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Six

30 Days of Thanks- D7

2011-11-07T02:53:00.001-07:00

http://www.royalscoop.com/about/flavor_list/

(Warning: NOT Mint Chip! This is Pistachio, and while tasty, will be an extremely odd flavor when expecting mint.)

I have a serious sweet tooth, and my favorite is ice cream, and especially mint chip. I've been living in a country with NO MINT CHIP ice cream for 3 YEARS! I'm thankful that I'll soon be on my own shores, delighting in minty creamy goodness.

~The DO

Sunday Kipling Memorial Day Edition

2011-11-06T12:13:00.000-07:00

I know it's a few days early but I want to dedicate this Sunday Kipling to our brothers and sisters who gave their lives that this might remain the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. I love them, every single one. I will never forget their sacrifice, their courage and their families. We owe them so much. There is another fight coming, to these very shores. May we all not be found wanting and may we find our way into their august company with our heads held high in pride on that day.

And as always.
For Ken.

Six

Dedication from "Barrack-Room Ballads"

BEYOND the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled-
Farther than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled-
Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.

They are purged of pride because they died; they know the worth of
their bays;
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the Elder Days-
It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth Our Father's praise.

‘Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where Azrael's outposts
are,
Or buffet a path through the Pit's red wrath when God goes out to war,
Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red-maned star.

They take their mirth in the joy of the Earth-they dare not grieve for
her pain;
They know of toil and the end of toil; they know God's Law is plain;
So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that Sin is vain.

And oft-times cometh our wise Lord God, master of every trade,
And tells them tales of His daily toil, of Edens newly made;
And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen unafraid.

To these who are cleansed of base Desire, Sorrow and Lust and Shame-
Gods for they knew the hearts of men, men for they stooped to Fame-
Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother's spirit came.

He scarce had need to doff his pride or slough the dross of Earth -
E'en as he trod that day to God so walked he from his birth,
In simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth.

So cup to lip in fellowship they gave him welcome high
And made him place at the banquet board-the Strong Men ranged
thereby,
Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die

Beyond the loom of the last lone star, through open darkness hurled,
Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star-swarm swirled,
Sits he with those that praise our God for that they served His world.

30 Days of Thanks- D6

2011-11-06T03:15:00.000-07:00

(Why, yes, that is a tiny dutch wooden shoe sitting on top of a camera battery charger. Why do you ask?)

I hate beer. Seriously, hate. Lemon beer, however, rocks! My husband loves beer, and I've always wanted the opportunity to sit back and have a beer with him. Once I found lemon beer I gained that ability. So, shockingly, I am thankful for beer! And sweet hard cider. Love cider!

~The DO

Army 14

2011-11-05T17:14:00.000-06:00

Air Force 24.

Oh, the ignominy. My daughter and Ras will never let me live it down.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D5

2011-11-05T05:00:00.000-06:00

Seasons!!

(The little cherry tree in our backyard a few days ago)

I grew up in a place that had no seasons, but I have always loved Fall. Well, it was so cold on the 4th of July that we wore jeans and jackets, and so hot the first week of October that we were in shorts, but I don't count that as seasons!

(Sledding down a hill in Oberammergau, Germany)

Most people remember the first time they saw the ocean, but I grew up next to the Pacific. But I do remember the first time I saw snow! I'm still a kid when it snows, and I tend to press my face against the window in awe. Seasons were weird growing up, and I'd always wanted to live with "real" seasons, and now I have, and I'm so thankful for the experience.

~The DO

Murphy's Law On Who The OWS really Is

2011-11-04T17:18:00.000-06:00

Murphy's Law over at Lagniappe's Lair has a new post up detailing the many criminal and immoral acts by the occupy mobs. He has links to the stories and it's but a small subset of the past, current and ongoing acts of criminality and violence being perpetrated by those who would have us believe they're just like us.

They're not. RTWT. It's very instructive. Thanks for the work ML.

Six

30 Days of Thanks- D4

2011-11-04T05:05:00.000-06:00

Plitvice lakes, Croatia

Parthenon, Athens

Kotor, Montenegro

Carcassonne, France

Utah Beach, Normandy, France

Prague, Czech Republic

Berlin wall, Germany

Lake Bled, Slovenia

I'm beyond thankful for the chances I've had to travel. London, Rome, Berlin, Paris, Athens, Prague, Split, Venice, Normandy, Edinburgh, Dublin, Oberammergau, Budapest, the Netherlands, Brugge, Sumeg, Zagreb, Santorini... We traveled a bit when we were in England, but being on the continent opened the doors for more extensive travel, and we took it! Not only was I blessed with location, but also a husband with both the means and motivation to allow me to see the things I've wanted to see. I'm not finished, but I am so thankful for the memories I've made, and for the chances I've had.

~The DO

True Life Tales Of Terror

2011-11-03T21:46:00.001-06:00

I had an update for the Pirate Ship of Child Joy all ready to go. It's taking shape nicely looking all pirateshipy and everything. Really. I swear. It's just that I somehow managed to idiotically break Lu's camera so I don't have any actual evidentiary photographs. So instead I have an allegedly humorous story.

Lisa has a very funny post up about a humorous encounter of the mouse persuasion. It brought to mind a Six/Trooper/Mouse interaction from a few years ago.

It's important to keep in mind that Trooper was a trained and experienced hunting dog. That is he could go out in the field, find small animals (usually of the feathered kind but not always), flush them out, chase them and then pick them up and bring them to Daddy after he'd fired several dozen shot shells at them. Ok, It.

So we're at home, just Trooper and me. I heard that scritching sound we're all familiar with. Mouse sounds. In the kitchen. I carefully explored the area, all the while trying to convince my hunting dog to "hunt 'em up". He was a bit confused. I mean this is the kitchen for Ghu's sake not the field. Hunt what up? Where? How!?

At some point (really, the whole stressful incident is a bit fuzzy) the mouse presented himself. Suddenly. I'm quite certain that I was very manly and macho about the unexpected intrusion. Quite certain. He ran around the kitchen for a bit then took up a hide/ambush position under the rolling counter. I coaxed Trooper out from under the desk (he must have heard something that convinced him it was the end of the world. I have no idea what that might have been. None at all. Sniff.) and set him up to watch for our adversary whilst I girded my loins and weaponed up. What to use to dispatch an 8 ounce furry terror? My eyes light upon my 8 inch K-Bar lying on the countertop. Hey, I'm a guy.

Now properly equipped to face the interloper I decided to force the issue. If he thought I'd just blithely enter his kill zone and stick a hand of other soft appendage into his cleverly laid trap Mister Mouse had another think coming. Carefully, keeping my situational awareness at UltraThreatLevelFireEngineRed, I moved the counter aside. Can you feel the tension?

Apparently I did.

Mister Mouse must have sensed that the situation had gone into the dumper and that more direct action was called for. He darted out from the under the counter and charged me! I did the Dance Of Avoidance while shouting at Trooper to "Get Him. Sic Him Boy. Kill That Damn Mouse"! Trooper, who'd never heard such commands in his life, joined me in the dance and added his voice to the cacophony by barking out his enthusiasm for what was obviously a new game. We careened around the room, barking and shouting and eeking until I remembered. Hey I have a large knife in my hand, I should stab the mouse with it. Genius! Whereupon I started wildly stabbing at the mouse scurrying around the kitchen floor while screaming like a prepubescent child of the female variety. Trooper's barking picked up in tempo and vigor as he transitioned from dancing joy to dodging concern over the flashing death in my right hand. I say flashing death but really it was more like flashing incompetence. I managed to hit everything but Trooper. And the mouse.

I may have missed that mouse but I'm positive I scared him out of a few years of life. Certainly Trooper was well and truly impressed. I did however manage to put a few knife shaped divots in the linoleum floor. The mouse, taking advantage of the diversion provided by my blind, panic stricken orgy of buffoonery, scurried to the garage door and disappeared under it and into the relative safety of my powertool filled work room. It was either a fear fueled feat of legerdemain or perhaps just a case of a small rodent doing what it did best. I thought I heard a snicker of derision as he vanished but by that time my pulse was racing and my breathing sounded like the dying convulsions of a mortally wounded water buffalo so it may have just been my imagination.

As I calmed and returned to some semblance of rationality it struck me that this was probably not my finest hour. Perhaps this was best kept just between Trooper and myself. Of course there was small matter of the multiple knife gouges in the floor and the general state of disarray of the kitchen. There was no way to explain that away short of fighting off an unexpected attack by Gnome Ninjas (are attacks by Gnome Ninjas ever expected?). At least nothing Lu was going to buy at any rate. She's so suspicious. I put the knife gently away, patted Trooper on the head, vowed to buy mouse actual traps and consigned myself to my fate.

I like to think that the mouse later told that story to his mouse friends over a beer at the local mouse drinking establishment. I like to think that he related the horror and danger. How he barely escaped from the knife wielding Hurricane of Terror with his life. How he was so close to death he could hear the Harps playing in Mouse Heaven. How lucky he was that he avoided near certain dismemberment at the hands of an obviously trained killer.

But somehow I don't think that's the way he told it.

Lisa complains that there wasn't a man around to empty the trap after she (somehow) intelligently managed to trap her mouse without destroying her house while simultaneously endangering the life of every living thing therein except said mouse. I say she's probably lucky I wasn't around.

Stupid mouse.

Six

30 days of Thanks- D3

2011-11-03T02:38:00.000-06:00

I'm very thankful for the opportunity I've had to live abroad, not once but twice. When the chance to live in Hungary came up there was the initial reaction of "Where??" The idea of moving so far from family, and to a place that's so different, was intimidating, but exciting as well. How many people get the chance to actually live behind the Iron Curtain? We've traveled to places I never expected to see, and experienced a people I never expected to meet. Living abroad has given me deeper insight into my own country, into our strengths and weakness, and I will come back and a better person for it. The Hungarians are an amazing people, and it's been a privilege to live here.

The view out my front door. I will miss it here.

~The DO

30 days of Thanks

2011-11-02T06:58:00.004-06:00

It is so easy to be taken in by the selfish interests of life, especially in the modern era and the idea that the world owes us something. The beauty of Thanksgiving is that it is a moment in time to stop and reflect on how lucky we are, and and to give thanks for our blessings. In that vein I'll be posting a thankful thought once a day for the month of November. I anticipated starting this series yesterday and putting up a post a day, but that didn't happen. So I'll post two today. Feel free to share your thanks, and your thoughts!

Day 1: The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of being Thankful is my husband, for without him my life is not as joyful. He supports me in all things, all attempts at happiness. I get to stay home with my kids because of his sacrifice and support. I get to homeschool my kids because of his support and encouragement. He is my best friend, and the father of my children, and without him life is smaller. He makes me laugh when I'm mad, and smile when I'm depressed; he listens, he loves, and he celebrates. I'm am so lucky to have him.

Rob took me around the world, just like I've always wanted to do. Normandy, Rome, Athens and here, Vienna. He always finds a way!

Day 2: On the heels of my husband is my thanks for my kids. Crazy, chaotic, frustrating, amazing, loud, dirty, loving, caring, they embody all of life in two crazy packages. They truly remind me of all that life has to offer, and through teaching them I'm becoming a better person. They love unconditionally, they seek me out in a way that no one else ever has, or ever will, and they allow me to distill life into it's best moments. They truly are a gift.

My angels! They've traveled the world with us, and always kept their smiles.

~The DO

Pirate Ship Play Area For The Kids

2011-11-01T17:07:00.002-06:00

As if I don't have enough on my plate. I decided that since DO and the kids are visiting for a couple of months (they'll be here on the ~~23rd~~ 24th!) we needed a nice play area for the kids. Right now they're into pirates and a few years ago they went nuts for a play ship at the Wharf in Monterey. So my play area will combine swings and other play stuff with a pirate ship theme. It'll be pretty big so it's going to take me a while to get it finished. We started last Sunday.

First up was to make some kind of a plan, buy some materials and put in the base. A clumsy sketch, a rough materials list and a trip to the Big Box Home Store and we were off.

I started with 4 pier blocks. I want the base to be 10' long by 6' wide. The sill plate is 2x6 with 2x4 floor joists. I dug pier blocks down about 10 inches. It's most important to get the sill plate square and level as the rest of the structure will follow.

I nailed the 2x6s together at the corners but they'll be carriage bolted to the 4x4 uprights later.

It's going to be 2 stories with the second floor at 6 feet. After finishing the leveling and squaring of the first floor I put up the 4x4 uprights. I then built the second floor sill plate on top of the first floor and slid it up into place. I temporarily nailed it in place after making sure it was also square and level.

The cross pieces you see are for lateral support until I can get some skin on the frame.

The uprights must be level on both sides before I bolt them to the sill plates. I'll have some flexibility later but it's a lot easier to check level and square at each step..

If you click on the image you can see the bubble leveled.

After I was satisfied it was true we bolted the whole thing together at the corners with 8 inch long 1/2 inch carriage bolts with washers. You can see them at the corners here. There's 2 at each corner, 1 from each side. Each sill plate is now nailed and bolted to the uprights. The structure is actually pretty solid at this point.

My helpers, Lu, Sarge and MiL. It's so much easier with good assistants.

Next up is floor joists and flooring. I used 2x4s for the joists and OSB for the floor.
First floor is done. That's me skinning the second floor. The 4x4 uprights are 10 feet tall so you can see how big this thing is going to be. The second floor is 6 feet above the first with the uprights an additional 4 feet over that. Each floor used exactly 2 1/2 sheets of 4x8 OSB. I love it when a plan comes together.

Each OSB sheet is nailed to the floor joists and the sill plates. You can also see that we've buried and tamped the pier blocks. It's just some additional insurance against the thing moving around. We also put 4 mil plastic under the first floor to guard against weeds and bugses.

I love power tools. I'm using my pneumatic framing nailer to install the floor. It makes things a lot easier.

I bought a 10 foot long 2x6 beam for swings, a rope climb and some monkey bars. I placed it so I could see how it was going to work and whether or not I needed to raise it above the level of the second floor. It'll stick out an additional 5 feet from what this picture depicts so there will be plenty of room for stuff. I'll bolt it to the floor and have a 4x4 A-frame at the far end for support. It's just shy of 7 feet from the ground. Lu and Sarge think that will be fine for swings. I tend to agree but I only want to do this once so I have to get it right the first time. Opinions?

Imagine if you will. To the left of the frame, as viewed here (where the ladders are), I'll add in a ships bow. It'll be about an additional 10 feet long and 3 feet high. It'll be surrounded with gravel we're going to paint ocean blue. There will be 2 ladders/stairs from the bow to the second floor (one on each side of the bow). The bow will have a mast for the raising of the pirate's flags. There will be a door into the first floor cabin between the 2 stairs. I'll put the ships wheel on the second floor, just above the bow. The second floor will have a hip height banister with vertical rails with all the way around it.
The back, where the OSB is standing at the fence line, will be sheathed with climbing points (think rock climbing wall).
The right side, nearest the camera, will also be sheathed with port holes.
The front, under the 4x6 beam, will have the swings and a knotted climbing rope. Right next to the structure and running across the face will be monkey bars at the level of the second floor.

I'll probably use lattice here and there both to give some structural rigidity and as a safety feature. There will be an additional door into the first floor at the right front, leading from the play area under the beam. I'm considering putting in an adults stair on the right side leading to the second floor with a gate at the top.

I'm sure I'll change and add things as we go. That's the nature of such a project and I'm not working to a set plan. I'm designing as I go. I'd appreciate any input anyone would care to give.

I'll update as we go with a full write up when I'm done. I went through a lot of web sites and saw a lot of stuff I liked. I kinda stole what I liked and improvised the rest. Man, I hope they like it.

Six

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T10:11:00.001-06:00

I love Halloween. The Six does too, even if he won't admit it. One year he asked me to paint an old helmet so he could wear it around all day at work and give out stickers. Or suckers, but I think it was stickers.

It's kind of unheard of for the Six to do things that draw attention to him (he doesn't like attention), but the motorcycle/kid combo brought out the silly side.

Halloween taught me to plan ahead. Lu made me awesome costumes, if I planned far enough in advance. One year, yeah, never did decide. Though, I was still darn cute, so it all worked out!

I haven't kept in touch with many of my childhood friends, but we did have fun back in the day. Part of the joy of celebrations is sharing what you loved as a kid with your kids. My daughter loves parties, and is setting one up as I'm typing! If you look closely there is a ghost hanging, and a witch and bat on the fireplace. Those decorations were made by Lu, and are now hanging in my house, and will be part of the childhood of my children.

Kids learn how to be adults from us, so sometimes I have to remember to step back and be a kid. I have to remind them that there are worse things then throwing together a clown outfit at the last minute... And in fact those can be the best!

(My son is 5, no one in his life smokes, yet his Jack O' Lantern is smoking a cigar!)

I try to remember to take joy in their joy, and to remember what magic is in childhood. I make costumes when I can, and we try to make the day special. If you take life too seriously you age before your time. Trust me, I know where of I speak. My kids have reminded me of some of the things I let go. I am an only child, and was desperate to grow up. Being grown up was so important to me that sometimes I forgot to be a kid. Fortunately I get to be a kid all over again when I share in their excitement! And dig through their candy, and, er, make sure the good stuff isn't poisoned. Yeah, that's ti. I'd better taste it, just to be safe!

Happy Halloween all!

~The DO

(Editorial. That first photo up there, the jack-o-lantern? She's not kidding, that was my official police motorcycle officer's helmet. She painted it up and I wore it at work all day. It was back when I was working motors. The Chief said Ok but he said it with dread in his eyes. First and last time ever. It was great fun and something I'd love to see more of. The face was on the back and that little thing on top was a stem made from a brown paper bag. I gave away about a thousand stickers and recieved at least that many smiles. The DO did the whole thing. She's is a crafty one in every definition of the word :) Six)

Sunday Kipling

2011-10-30T02:15:00.000-06:00

Lu and I will spend the day planning a surprise for the grandkids when they and the DO arrive (next month!). We'll take the dogs for a nice walk and maybe char something on the grill. Summer is gone but Fall is here with it's riotous colors and the anticipation of Thanksgiving and Christmas spent with family and loved ones. Life is good. May you all have a glorious and happy Sunday my friends.
Six

The Rabbi's Song
"The House Surgeon"--Actions and Reactions 2 Samuel XIV. 14.

If Thought can reach to Heaven,
On Heaven let it dwell,
For fear the Thought be given
Like power to reach to Hell.
For fear the desolation
And darkness of thy mind
Perplex an habitation
Which thou hast left behind.

Let nothing linger after--
No whimpering gost remain,
In wall, or beam, or rafter,
Of any hate or pain.
Cleans and call home thy spirit,
Deny her leave to cast,
On aught thy heirs inherit,
The shadow of her past.

For think, in all thy sadness,
What road our griefs may take;
Whose brain reflect our madness,
Or whom our terrors shake:
For think, lest any languish
By cause of thy distress--
The arrows of our anguish
Fly farther than we guess.

Our lives, our tears, as water,
Are spilled upon the ground;
God giveth no man quarter,
Yet God a means hath found,
Though Faith and Hope have vanished,
And even Love grows dim--
A means whereby His banished
Be not expelled from Him!

On My List

2011-10-29T17:59:00.000-06:00

Of things I want to do before I either get too old or cash in my chips.

"More Rum. Throw more Rum."

Six

Rebar Target Stand Pt.2. The Failing.

2011-10-28T16:49:00.000-06:00

So we loaded up and headed out for a nice shoot today. Me, Lu, Sarge and MomInLaw. We had a good time and I found out the limitations of the stand.

Here's the stand in the back of the truck, broken down for travel.

Lu and i brought the cowboy guns. From left to right; Lu's Ruger vaquero 44-40, Lu's Marlin 336 30-30, my Ruger Blackhawk 45LC and my Marlin 1894 45LC.

Sarge brought his Sig P226 in .40, a Remington 870 12 ga. and his Sig P230 in .380.

Sarge and I set up the stand with cardboard. I later glued 3x5 index cards to the cardboard for targets.

Here's the back of the stand with cardboard attached.

Ummm. We might have a problem here. I took a deliberate shot at the left upright with Lu's 30-30.

It failed pretty spectacularly. You all saw this coming, didn't you? I was just sooo sure it'd be too hard to smack it dead center and a glancing hit would just ring and maybe turn it. Sigh.

Still, that's a pretty direct hit. Not a bad shot but a dismal failure of the steel. The target stand was still usable though. I broke it at the failure point, stood it back up, put the cardboard back on and we shot for another 30 minutes. At least it still worked. That's something. I guess.

There was one other issue. Someone managed to hit the tip of the lower left hanger and bend it into a U shape. It was instructive but still kinda cool. I mean, what are the chances?

So. What did I learn? Having the steel and hangers directly behind the cardboard and targets is a bad idea. On the next stand I'll drop the height by one foot, from 6 to 5 feet. I'll widen and lengthen the target area so it's a larger opening than the cardboard. Since my cardboard is 30x40 I'll go just larger, probably 32x42. I'll change the hangers so they protrude into the target space instead of sticking directly out from the frame. I'll also go thicker on the rebar. 1/2 inch instead of 3/8. The hangers need to be immediately replaceable. Something with bolts drilled through the rebar is about as far as I've gotten. Tips and ideas will be great appreciated.

A failure but not total. I now know where the weaknesses are and have a fair idea how to address them. I'll fix this stand but reserve it for .22s and shotgun patterning only. The feet worked perfectly and with the addition of Instincts U-pegs wind isn't going to be an issue.

Meh, live and learn.

Six

American Made

2011-10-27T05:43:00.001-06:00

I'm tired of Made in China on everything. I'm tired of wondering how far my stuff has come to get to me. I'm tired of cut rate costs meaning cut rate products, but since they ALL suck there isn't much that complaining can accomplish. Until, that is, someone actually listens. I'm on a hunt to start making my home an American Made home, and there is one place I'm starting: All American Clothing Co. I know almost nothing about them, and haven't shopped them yet, but I'm so willing to spend a little more to buy from a home team. And guess what? A lot of their stuff isn't more expensive. They have tees starting at $9, not bad.

One of these days I will stop being moved by people that don't care about my stuff, and I will be willing to spend good money on good furniture. I'm already saving for Stickley's gorgeous heirloom furniture. I once watched John Ratzenberger stand inside a drawer still in the dresser on his show, Made in America.

I'm not getting paid to talk about these manufactures, and I'm not getting free product. In fact, they have no idea who I am or that I'm writing about them. That isn't the point, the point is that I'm looking to vote with my dollars to bring back manufacturing to American shores. To make our nation, once again, a strong nation of hardworking builders that bring more to the world than just the latest Ap.

So, any other thoughts out there? Any American manufactures that you want to pass on?

~The DO

You Can't Camoflage Stupidity

2011-10-25T22:05:00.000-06:00

From the "If they were smart we'd never catch them" comedy criminal file we have Ghillie Boy. GB apparently had the brilliant idea of wearing a Ghillie Suit to a burglary. Just in case the PoPo came rolling by. He apparently forgot that whole dogs-can-smell-really-good thing. He might should have done just a little more research into the local constabulary force and their K-9 program. (Psst GB. They have one.) Add in the fact that the room he was breaking into did not have access to his target building and we have a criminal who needs to be in jail for his own safety.

Here's our no doubt future Darwin Award winner in full weedy regalia. I would have given a months salary to have put the cuffs on this guy.

My absolute favorite quote from the article:

Until a police dog noticed a patch of turf acting in a manner very much unlike most grass. The dog bit down bit down on the grass and the grass responded with a yelp.

That's a 6P* Fail coupled with a heavy dose of "That really, really hurts". I hope his handler gave that K-9 a mouth rinse afterward. Stupidity of that magnitude might be contagious.

Six

*Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance

Rebar Target Stand

2011-10-24T19:54:00.002-06:00

Sarge had an idea a while ago that's been percolating around in the back of my mind. We've had a series of raggedy excuses for target stands that work kinda. As long as the wind is at zero and no one makes any sudden moves. Sarge suggested we make some out of PVC. A great idea, and one I had been cataloging in my mind. What was I going to need to make them and how best to put it together and repair it when it inevitably takes some hits. The other night I thought about an alternative. Rebar. It's simple steel, comes in a variety of sizes, can be readily welded, is actually fairly tough and should be pretty easy to repair. Lets find out.

Lu and I went to Big Box Home Remodel Store today and I bought three 8 foot sections of 3/8's inch rebar. I chose 3/8's because it's light, should (there's that word again) be strong enough and is cheap. Less than ten bucks for all three.

Here's the plan.
-The target stand will be 2 feet wide and 6 feet tall with a cross piece 3 feet from the top. It will have 2 feet, each 2 foot long with another 2 foot cross brace between them. Think an H shaped footing.
-Take two of the 8 footers and cut 2 feet off each. Then cut two more 2 foot sections out of the last 8 foot rebar. This will give us four 2 foot sections and two 6 foot sections. We'll also need 2 uprights that have an inside diameter approximately equal to the outside diameter of the rebar. We'll need a mounting system, something to cut metal and a welder.

Ok. Here's two of the 2 footers with the two 6 footers.

Here's the footing already cut and welded. I found 2 pieces of pipe just laying around to use as the uprights receptacles. These will hold the 6 foot sections when the stand is assembled. They were too large inside diameter but I'll address that later in the build. You can see the H shape I was talking about. 2 feet long by 2 feet wide.

A this point I needed to take some measurements. My target cardboards are 40 inches tall by 30 wide.

That gave me my final measurements for the target opening. I'll weld the 2 footers on the inside of the 6 foot uprights for a final width of right at 25 inches. I decided that 36 inches from the top was good for my cross brace.

First, square up the corners. Then weld a 2 foot section to one end of the 6 footers. This is the top of the stand.

25 inches wide.

I then marked a spot on each upright at 36 inches from the top and welded in the cross brace.

Remember I said the 2 pipes I welded into the footing to hold the uprights were too big? When I fitted the upper stand into the foot it wobbled badly. Now keep in mind I was working with whatever I had in the shop so please be kind. I had a piece of copper pipe with the correct inside diameter and 2 large square nuts that were the exact size I needed. I cut the copper so it would fit in the pipe flush and welded the nuts to the top. When I do another one I'll actually go out and buy some pipe that fits without going through gyrations to make it work. I swear. Probably. Maybe. (I won't).

The uprights now fit into the pipe perfectly. The stand is solid with no wobbling. You can see how the uprights fit into the footing.

Here's the stand complete but for the mounting system. It's 6 foot tall and 2 foot wide. It sits on a stand that's 2 foot by 2 foot. It may be too small but if so I can easily bend the feet or add length to them. Sarge and I talked about even adding claws to the feet or plates that we can stake to the ground.

On to the mounting system. Remember, I'm working with what I have. Anyone know what these are?

If you said "those wirish doodads one uses to mount things to peg board" you're obviously a Redneck. You would also be absolutely correct. I cut off the little single 'tail', leaving me with the other 2 for welding. Yes, that is a hand hacksaw. Please don't tell anyone. I don't want to lose my powertool cred.

Mounted and ready for welding. I sharpened the tips to make it easier to poke them through the cardboard. There are 2 at the top and 2 on the crossbrace.

Here's the final product with a cardboard attached. Angus insisted on modeling. Something about everything being better with a Lab. The mounting spikes are at the top and mid brace giving me 4 points of contact. If any one fails it'll still work. It'll even work if 2 fail, so long as one's at the top and the other at the bottom.

I know, the width of the stand is such that it it behind the edges of the cardboard. I built it this way for a couple of reasons.
Most of my targets, including the silhouettes, are 24 inches wide so good hits won't be an issue. The top and mid brace were always going to be behind the cardboard no matter what. I wanted a solid mount for the cardboard instead of relying on bunji's or similar. I like having something solid behind the target for it to push against. No blowing the target through this stand. Because I made it out of steel it'll be both tougher and easier to repair than PVC. It's round to full on hits will be rare and those that do hit shouldn't come back on the shooter (remember that shooting into steel is always dangerous. Wear your safety gear). I wanted it to be as small and light as I could manage while still being large enough for full sized targets.

The final weight of the entire stand was 10 pounds. As weighed on the calibrated, super accurate scales here at the Evil6 Incorporated R&D laboratories of course. Total outlay (minus the stuff I had 'just laying around') was 10 dollars and a couple of hours of work by Sarge and me. A lot of which was talking and lying about how well we shoot.

Will it work? Will it fall over in a mild breeze and completely mortify me? Will it break the first time Sarge or I hit it with anything larger than a BB gun and stubbornly refuse to be repaired? You'll just have to tune in later to find out. Sarge and I have a date at the Super Secret Evil6 Range Facility later this week. We'll put it through it's paces, including shooting it on purpose, and file a report. Backyard engineering. I dunno.

Success or abject failure. We shall see.

Six

Redneck Airlines

2011-10-24T16:14:00.000-06:00

Duct tape, is there anything it can't do?

Still, I'm not certain I want to fly on an airline maintained by Bubba and Cletus (Bubsmythe and Basiletus?).

"Hey Bubsmythe."
"Yeah Basiletus?"
"Winder on the cab is loose."
"Whul hail boy, slap some duck tape on 'er."
"It's a aeroplane Bubsmythe."
"Don't matter. If it's good enough fer them boys in NASCAR it's shore good enuf fer us'n."

"Rhat. I knew that."
"Bless yer heart Basiletus."

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Sunday Kipling

2011-10-23T00:04:00.000-06:00

I hope this Sunday finds you all in good spirits, happy and healthy. As for me, I'll watch some football, play with Angus, give Chrisi a good belly rub and wait for Lu to return. And when she's home?
Well!
Six

The Pirates in England

When Rome was rotten-ripe to her fall,
And the sceptre passed from her hand,
The pestilent Picts leaped over the wall
To harry the English land.

The little dark men of the mountain and waste,
So quick to laughter and tears,
They came panting with hate and haste
For the loot of five hundred years.

They killed the trader, they sacked the shops,
They ruined temple and town--
They swept like wolves through the standing crops
Crying that Rome was down.

They wiped out all that they could find
Of beauty and strength and worth,
But they could not wipe out the Viking's Wind
That brings the ships from the North.

They could not wipe out the North-East gales
Nor what those gales set free--
The pirate ships with their close-reefed sails,
Leaping from sea to sea.

They had forgotten the shield-hung hull
Seen nearer and more plain,
Dipping into the troughs like a gull,
And gull-like rising again--

The painted eyes that glare and frown
In the high snake-headed stem,
Searching the beach while her sail comes down,
They had forgotten them!

There was no Count of the Saxon Shore
To meet her hand to hand,
As she took the beach with a grind and a roar,
And the pirates rushed inland!

Dirtcrashr On Motorcycles

2011-10-22T21:49:00.000-06:00

Dirtcrashr has a wonderful series of posts on motorcycle racers, specifically those brave and supremely talented souls who piloted the old GP500, 2 stroke missiles. The sheer courage and talent needed to bend those barely controllable, incredible machines can be matched only by the men and women who carve arcs in the sky in high performance jet fighters. I stopped watching years ago, when they went to 4 strokes and called it MotoGP. The magic was gone. PC and the big manufacturers won and we lost something so precious, never to come again.

The photos were taken by a professional race photographer, none other than Dirtcrashr himself. Did you also know he used to pen cartoons for CityBike? There's such a wealth of talent amongst us (I just wish that included me).

The pictures and stories take me back to my early adulthood. CarGuy and I went to Laguna every year. We attended the Keith Code riding school together. To a motorhead, the smell of burning 2 stroke is like Hoppes #9 to a gunnie. It can't be replicated nor forgotten. It evokes visions of fearless men riding at the absolute edge of the envelope, looking for just that little bit of extra speed. A corner refined until it passes without a thought. Braking markers that flash by so fast they can't be seen, only judged by talent, guts and experience. Glory or disaster contained within the breast of a shreiking beast of an engine and the courage attached to a right hand. Men who rode with the incisions still fresh where the steel rods were inserted, holding their battered bodies together for just one more race. Men who raced because they loved it and (as Dirtcrashr so eloquently puts it) because they were "all arrested-adolescents who's childhood was accelerated away from them on the wings of hydrocarbon - their talent was too much." Exactly.

If you love all things two wheeled and haven't yet seen it, stop by Dirtcrashr's place and take a look. And remember what it was like to be young, fearless and invulnerable.

Thanks for sharing brother.

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