A Polite Message to the NFL...

I'll start by saying I've been a football fan since Moses was a corporal. More than 65 years, I believe.  Not that I'm counting or anything.

And having been born and raised in and around Kansas City, Missouri, my natural tendency is to root for the Chiefs.  Big Time.  First, last and always.  So much so that I had a 53-yard line seat on the third row back at Super Bowl IV.  

And William Boyd, who played TV's Hopalong Cassidy, happened to be sitting behind me!  How about that?  

January the 11th, it was, 1970, when Kansas City whipped the Viking's butt, 23 - 7.  And the then-quarterback Lenny Dawson connected for an unheard of 16 passes in a row, to set a new NFL record.  And Jan Stenerud, their Swedish field goal kicker, connected for an unheard of 100% of all his attempts that year.  

Oh yeah, I paid a whopping $56 dollars for that seat.  My, how times have changed...

Anyway, I've still been a Chiefs fan, no matter how well or how badly they've played.  Or at least I have, up until just recently...

Somehow Chiefs football has morphed into the Pat and Trav and Tay show.  Whenever "Tay's" jet brings her to a game, you can assume the camera will be on her about 20% of the time.  Then flashed to the "Jumbotron."  And then on Travis for his reaction.  It's disconcerting.  It's unnecessary.  It's a diversion.  And it's likely helped cause K.C.'s season to come apart at the seams.  

The way they've played over the past 3 weeks is horrid.  That's one thing.  But the way its "stars" have behaved is quite another.  They've acted like children!  Twenty-something $Multi-Millionaires who weren't getting their way!  On world-wide television!  With millions and millions of impressionable folks observing them behaving badly.  I was ashamed for them, even as they were not ashamed for themselves.  Simply stated, they raised my blood pressure to hitherto untold levels.

So I've thrown the flag and penalized the Chiefs 1 full game as a result.  I'm not watching if they're playing.  No matter what.  They pissed me off.  

As the guy once said, "You win some, you lose some."  And being able to both win and lose gracefully should be required of "role models" like these.  When they don't, they should be called out for their disgraceful acts.  And I'm calling them out.

If you'd like to know class, I give you Brock Purdy.  This kid from San Franpoopco collapsed on TV a week ago like no other QB has ever collapsed.  He threw 5 interceptions.  Unheard of.  Blew a lead and lost to a team he should have beaten.  I doubt I could have withstood the scorn heaped his way were I in his cleats.  Yet, he soldiered through it all gracefully.  And won some grudging acceptance - from me at least - as a result.  

Here's something I'd like the NFL to know.  My allegiance to a team, or to any person or institution, including the NFL, is not unlimited.  I've been offput by the flurry of yellow flags flying after every other play, for example.  That's been one thing.  Seems like if it's fun, it's now illegal.  And the laundry comes out.  And then we add uncalled for diversions, and conferences between the refs, and it ceases to be football.

But now we get this "Hollywood-ification" of one of our last remaining pure sports.  A lot of old-timey football fans, the folks who count, the folks with enough $Dough to buy tickets, including me, are getting fed up with all of this.  

They might want to remember that... 

Boycott That Crapper!

I love etiology.  

That's the study of words, for those who don't know so much about words. 

And I also love Lexicology.  That's the study of word origin.  Where our words came from.  Both together, so far as I'm concerned, mean learning from whence our words emminate, how they're spelled, what they mean, how they're used, for how long, and why.

My parents were both wordsmiths so I come by it naturally.  Mom was a schoolteacher and Dad was a well-educated supersalesman.  They also bribed me by paying me to learn 10 new words a week, along with their meaning and how to use them in a sentence.  In exchange for my allowance.  Our modern parents might want to consider doing the same.  I credit their decision for much of my resultant success.

This went on for years, to the tune of me basically learning Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, backwards and forwards.  I've been told by experts I have a vocabulary of about 250,000 words, while the average college graduate's is about 50,000.  It sure makes coming up with the right word at the right time in one of life's important moments a whole bunch easier.

In short, words are fun.  Those who play Wordle agree with me.  And I intend to risk boring you with some of them over the coming eons.  Presuming I still remain vertical.  Here's a couple to get us started:

There once was a guy named Sir Thomas Crapper.  He owned a plumbing company in London, England, back in the 1850's.  And he's generally credited with patenting and popularizing the flush toilet.  Which took off for the wealthy over there while we were still using outhouses.  And back in 1918, during World War One, when our boys where stationed in London, making friends and breaking things, they started calling this new device the "crapper," in honor of its inventor.

Never knew that, didja?

And then there's the story of William Boycott.  He was a surveyor and land agent for the King's local sheriff.  Back in 1650's Ireland.  Sorta' like Sheriff John was the king's evil enforcer was in the Robin Hood tales.  And the locals did not like his valuations, upon which their taxes were based.  So they began refusing to comply with his rulings.  Torches and pitchforks time.  Which then came to be known as, "boycotting," of course.

If you have a funny or strange word or phrase you'd like featured, send it along.  And watch this blog for new and exciting updates in the near future!    

Maps to the Stars Homes!

If you've ever been to Hollywood and Vine, here in Taxifornia, you've been pursued by a midget on a unicycle, wearing a pink tutu, trying to hawk maps to the stars' homes.  While you try and avoid them like the plague.  Wondering if you've been somehow transformed into an alternate reality.

Well, fellow Patriot, it struck me that those of us who think the Border down south exists to keep folks OUT, except for those with a damn good reason, know we need another approach in order to achieve that objective.

And we know we can't do a damn thing legislatively until or unless the Mumbler-in-Chief and his Open Borders ilk are shown the door.  And between now and then there will be another 5 Million Illegal Aliens stream across the Rio "Not So" Grande.  

That seems to me to be a crisis.  Even the subway patrolman mayor of New Yawk City would agree with me.  He just had to inform the overtaxed and overburdened residents of his failing City that they would be experiencing a 5% reduction, across the board, in the services they receive in order to pay for these "migrants."  5% less garbage collection.  5% less policing.  5% less teaching.  Florida, prepare to welcome some more new arrivals.  

So I'm proposing we stand back and take another look at the problem.  And come up with a creative solution.  One that we could implement around the current Administration.  And I believe I have one.  Here goes...

You know all the stars and starlets and star-others (we have 57 genders here, you know) in Hollywood are Liberal as all get out, with exception of five or six of them, right?  And how they all try and out-Lib each other, right?  And they have those 5-acre mansions with pools and the like, right?  And how they're always telling us how to live, right?  

RIGHT?

So how about this: we get some of us together and we print up some of those "Maps to the Stars Homes," right?  With red circles around the Lib-biest of them.  And then our volunteers stand right next to our Border Patrol folks who are now functioning as the "Welcome Wagon" greeters, signing up the newly-criminal* border crossers, one-at-a-time.  By the tens of thousands.  

By the HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS!  

And we hand out our "Maps to the Stars Homes!"  With maybe some freebie coupons from Starbucks, and such.  And then these new arrivals could knock on the the previously-sanctified doors of Babwah, and Cher (and share alike?), and all the other Uber-Libs who deserve some righteous payback.

A dose of their own medicine, me thinks?  

I'm absolutely positive they'll be delighted to share their expansive digs with a few Venezuelans and Chinese and folks from Sierra Leone.  

Ben and Jerries, too.  I'm guessing they'll be happy as a clam to give us a bunch of free coupons, right?  

RIGHT?

*    Despite what O'Biden and Majorkas and the folks at MSPMS tells us, it is currently illegal to enter the United States without permission.  A crime.  I will be writing more on this in the future, but 'til then, just be advised no new legislation is needed.  Just return to the Trump policies which reduced our illegal entries to the lowest level in more than 30 years.

Don't Be That Guy!

Here's a past recollection on this Christmas Eve you just might find hilarious.  It's about a time I watched Christmas Eve in the rearview mirror...

Like most young married guys, I'd waited until the last minute to go Christmas shopping.  For a wife you didn't want to disappoint about such things.  So I headed out on a "search and destroy" mission to go find a couple of presents, fast!

It was back in the 80's and I was headed to the busiest mall in America, South Coast Plaza.  In So. Cal's Orange County.  It's "Gold Coast."  Busy?  Is a pig's a*s pork?  Does a bear sh*t in the woods?  Does 50 pounds of flour make a big biscuit?  Yes, it was busy.  So busy there wasn't a parking spot to be had anywhere.  Tens of thousands of parked cars as far as the eye could see.  And seemingly tens of thousands of cars waiting to park.  It was starting to get dark and guys like me were starting to get frantic.  

Finally!  I found a spot!  I parked, went in, bought a present or two, and headed back out to my ride.  I was angle parked, about 50 yards from the front door.  I got in, stowed my packages, started my car, waited for the windshield to defrost, put it in reverse and prepared to back out. 

That was blood in the water to a swarm of waiting sharks! 

There was a long line of vehicles behind me, nose to tail, awaiting a spot.  There was a sedan and a pickup jockeying for my space immediately behind me, pickup in front, sedan right behind.  But neither would either move a bit forward or back up a tad in order to make that happen.  Each was waiting for the other to give in first.  And neither would.  

Seconds turned into minutes as these two were engaged in their own "Mexican standoff," with the only thing in doubt being who was the baddest Mexican.  The bumpers of the truck and the car were literally touching, and the drivers of each were trading insults at the top of their lungs.  On a cold, wintry night.  And I was just a witness to this craziness.

On a Christmas Eve.

Finally the dam broke.  The driver of the pickup got out with a tire iron and proceeded to bang on the hood of the car.  A steel tire-changing tire iron.  Full-on swings.  Over and over.  While screaming.  At the top of his lungs.  

But then the driver of the car got out.  A young lady, with a gun in one hand and a badge in the other.  Turns out she was an off-duty sheriff's deputy and not about to put up with this nonsense.  She threw this nut case over the hood of her car and put him in cuffs, while calling in reinforcements.  Including a helicopter.  With its flood lights illuminating a hundred-yard swath in diameter all around us.  All the while parked directly behind my car.  IMMEDIATELY behind my car!

Well, lemme' tell you, whatever else I had planned for that couple of hours didn't get done.  Nor did it for the dozens of folks in line behind the car and the truck.  For this was now a crime scene, and the perp with tire iron and the short fuse was hauled away to the Gray Bar Hotel.

I send this along to all my faithful and forgiving readers on this Christmas Eve.  Don't be that guy!  Take it nice and calm and easy on this Christmas Eve, and you'll survive this Holiday Season.  And how about this?  Give the parking spot the next time you go out shopping to that nice old lady over there!  God with repay the gesture, I'm sure...  

"Didn't get everything you wanted, Babe?  Lemme' tell ya,' I have the very best excuse.  Let's grab a glass of wine and I'll tell you all about it..."

You can think of this as karma.  Or maybe...truckma?

George Soros May Be The Devil.

Georgi Schwartz was on August 12, 1930 to an upper class Jewish family in the then-Kingdom of Budapest, Hungary.  

You likely know him as George Soros, the Anglicized name he adopted.  I know him as the Devil.  

(NOTE:  This IS a personal opinion blog, right?  And this is my personal opinion.)

Anyhoo, George was born during the Nazi occupation of Hungary.  It's been reported he was paid by the SS, as a 10 or 11 year-old, to rat out the hiding places of fellow Jewish families when he was only a little demon.  But that's just a rumor.  Unconfirmed.  But however likely...

Anyway, little Georgie proved to be a real financial whiz.  He earned a full-ride to the London School of Economics, generally regarded as where economists go to die.

He was puked forth from The School with a BSc in Philosophy, and immediately when to work for a series of London's stock and bond traders.  When he thought he'd learned enough, he tried to bring down the Bank of England.  That culminated on September 16th, 1992, wish so-called "Black Wednesday."  The day he "broke the Pound," as the London Times then called it.  

The Bank of England had to restructure the U.K.'s debt and finances in order to survive Soros' shorting of its currency.  For doing so he was prosecuted, convicted and imprisoned.  Following that Soros, a felon, was kicked out of England and Europe with instructions to never return.  

He took his $Billions and wound up at a compound on the South Shore of Long Island.  That's in commie New York.  I've actually driven past it a couple of times so I can assure you it's there.  Since then he's created the "Open Societies Foundation," and a series of other Left-wing outfits to try and influence public policy.  And ya' ready for it?  He's distributed more than $35.5 Billion Dollars doing so.

And he still has, as of last September, $6.8 Billion Dollars of personal wealth left between the cushions of his expansive, no doubt made of Ermine, couch.

And who gets those $Dollars?  He used them to install all the District Attorneys in all the 50+ cities where crime has run amok.  San Francisco and New York City and Portland and Chicago and Baltimore and Kansas City and St. Louis and Seattle and Lost Angeles.  Every one with a Prosecutor that downgrades felonies to misdemeanors, and then dismisses them for "lack of evidence."

NOTE:  Lost Angeles' D.A., for example, has downgraded 53% of all felonies to misdemeanors since being elected.  Hold up a liquor store, get nabbed, wind up with a charge for resisting arrest.  Get it kicked.  Go free.  Piss off the cops.  Again. 

These socialists were selected by Soros to empty our jails and prisons, and they're doing a damn fine job of it.  

BTW, remember when the Conservative "MSMedia" railed at Bankman-Fraud using $400 million of his clients' funds to try and influence our Elections?  Soros has spent $35.6 Billion actually Influencing our Elections.  And has been doing so for more than 40 years!

It's been estimated that fully 70,000,000 Americans are suffering under the auspices of this $Dollar Dictator.  That's one-fourth of our population.  In the Biggest, and Bluest of our Cities.    

And we're still letting him do it.  Why?  You'd have to ask those in charge.  All I can do is shine a light on this outrage.  I dunno' about you, but as for me, this guy just may be the Devil.  Or at least the Devil's Right Hand Man...

Just Think of it As "Entertainment."

According to our Lords and Ladies at the Federal Reserve, my retirement savings has lost 18% of its value since Joseph Robinet O'Biden was immaculated.

By a flood of paper ballots, with a goodly number of questionable legitimacy.

I was crestfallen about this little factoid.  I worked my whole life to save enough $Bucks so that I wouldn't outlive my money.  And while I'm in the process of "outliving," my $Money is dwindling in both quantity, and value.  "Bidenflation" has doubled the price of a Happy Meal at your local Choke and Puke, while I've been eating Top Ramen at home.  

Which has also doubled in price.

But I just decided that, for purposes of mental health, I'm going to consider all this dummmassedness as entertainment!  Like going to the movies (up 60%).  Or maybe to a baseball game (up 37%).  Or a concert (up 66%).

And all of that just since we ushered out Big Orange.  

BTW, Adele was the most expensive concert last year, coming in at a nice round $1,000 a ticket.  Next was Travis Kelce's girlfriend at $950.00.  They consider that entertainment.  I consider Bidenflation my entertainment.  It costs me more, but I don't have to get all dressed up and stand in a line somewhere.

So the visceral pain I felt upon leaving Jack in the Box the other day after being charged $8.69 for an Ultimate Cheeseburger, all by itself, no fries or drink, should be a lesson for us all.  Like the George Soros prosecutor once said to the poor sexual assault survivor, "When rape's inevitable, just lay back and enjoy it!"  

So I'm gonna' lay back and enjoy it.  I'm gonna' stop watching Conservative news channels that report the actual news, and start watching Liberal news channels that simply ignore all the bad happenings around us.  As we all know, they "massage" the news so it sounds better to their poorly educated viewers.  They "tweak" some of it, and just leave other stuff out.  Guilt by both "omission" and "commission."  Maybe that's the preferred way to go.  Simply ignore reality.  America's coming apart at the seams, but we'll simple ignore it.  

Like my Dad once told me when I reminded him of a rock in one of his tires.  The one that kept clicking and clicking and he drove down the road, "Don't worry about it," he said. "It'll go away..."

Do here's my Rx for making it through this Sh*t Storm the Democrats have visited upon us; a.) Ignore it; b.) And if you simply cannot, pretend you're just attending a concert.  Without having to get all dressed up.  Just pretend it's entertainment.

Want Proof? Here's Proof...

In order to buy a home in Kennesaw, Georgia, you must own a gun.  And ammunition.  And be prepared to use it...

Didja' know that?  

There's a lot of stuff our so-called "MainStreamMedia" won't publicize.  And the stats resulting from widespread gun ownership are among them.  Because they're just plain "inconvenient" for their anti-gun crowd.  And here's why.

The city of Morton Grove, Illinois, a commie suburb of Chicago, voted to make handguns illegal in 1982.  The folks in charge of Kennesaw, Georgia knew that such a decision was unconstitutional.  Because it deprived those citizens of their absolute Right to "...keep and bear arms," as guaranteed to us by the 2nd Amendment.  

So the City Council of Kennesaw passed a law stating...

     "(a) In order to provide for emergency management of the city, and further in order to provide for and protect the safety, security and general welfare of the city and its inhabitants, every head of household residing in the city limits is required to maintain a firearm, together with ammunition therefore."

That law was passed in this City of 33,000 in 1982.  It has not had a murder since.  Murders all around it, but none there.  And its crime rate, are your ready for this?...85% below the national average for cities of this size.   

No Murders and crime stats a full 85% below the National Average!  

And that's from a suburb of northwest of Atlanta, Cobb County.  It is located within the Greater Atlanta Metropolitan Area.  And it is proof that if you advertise you're armed and considered dangerous, the Bad Guys will leave you the +$&*@# alone!  They'll prey on someone else!  Someone unarmed!  Until everyone's armed, and then crime will stop!  

Are you on your way to the gun shop yet?    

HOA's

If you've never lived under the thumb of an HOA, count yourself among the most fortunate.

"HOA," if you don't know, stands for "Home Owners Association."  It also has been on occasion known as many other unprintable expletives.  And that's because many, if not most of the HOA's out there, have boards of directors comprised of those who never got to order anyone around in their primary vocation.  And they're finally able to get their Putin on.

Think about it:  if you're a mail delivery type, did you ever get to order anyone around?  No!  If you were a truck driver, did you ever get to order anyone around?  Nope!  How about a bank teller, or a dog catcher, or a carpenter?  They didn't get to order anyone around.  So just imagine how much of a need to scream at someone there's all bottled up in those folks?  Like that fizzzz in a Coke.  30 or 40 years of cleaning peoples' septic tanks gives you absolutely no one to order around.  

Nobody!

And then they retire.  And move into one of those 55-Plus communities.  And see an announcement for an HOA election.  Ah Ha!  Finally!  The chance to order folks around!  To pick fights over the tiniest of infractions to their Codes.  For the pure pleasure of exerting their newly-minted authority.  Over somebody.  

Anybody!

What started all this is I got a love note from some babe named Charlotte.  She's one of those dreaded Board members of my Dreaded HOA Board, I guess.  And apparently I had a shrub which had overgrown her standards.  Not necessarily my standards as its owner.  Nor the HOA's standards, mind you, but her own personal standards.  So she wrote me a note.  And it said:

"Mr. (Chuckmeister), your shrub has overgrown your eves.  Make arrangements to have it trimmed or be fined."  

How nice, Charlotte!  I've never had the (dis)pleasure of meeting this lady in person, only by threat.  Maybe a nice phone call would have been preferable, don't you think?  As opposed to the "Nuclear Option" of reaching directly into my Bidenflation-racked pocketbook?  

So I took Executive Action.  I chose not to argue or fight or appeal.  Life's too short, as they say.  I found a guy to trim the shrub, and wrote Charlotte to let her know that I had.  It went like this:

"Dear Charlotte.  I've never met you, but thanks for letting me know my bush has offended you.  Sorry about that.  So I've had my bush Manscaped.  I hope you like my bush now more than before.  Be sure to stop by and see my bush anytime you'd like."

(BTW, I got a letter of apology from my HOA Board's president.)

Here's hoping I won't get anymore threatening notes from my HOA.  But if I do, I think I know how to handle them.  

You might want to do the same...

"Benign Prostatic Hypertrophy"

This unassuming little blog entry is intended more for our Lady Patriots out there in Internet-Land than us males.  Because we already know all about it.  And we wish we didn't...

Those three words up there on the Masthead are what the medical establishment calls it.  I'll tell you what I call it: 

                 %$&^#@*++!

I was introduced to "Mr. Prostate" one fine day whilst attempting to pee.  As I had done so very many times before.  I mean, thousands of times before.  Hundreds of thousands of times before!  Exceppppt, this time nothing came out.  Nothing ventured forth.  Or even fifth.  Or eighth.  Or twenty-third.  I whipped out my Bad Johnson and proceeded to try and pee.  And couldn't.  

And I didn't know why.

I was to soon find out.  In fact, I found out later than most men that I had contracted "BPH" as outlined above.  And it means that the gland encircling the ureter, between the bladder and Mr. Johnson, has awakened and put himself in charge of when I can pee.  Or even if...

This gland, Mr. Prostate, does nothing good for mankind.  And certainly not for men writ large.  In fact, IT decides how long it takes for us men to pee.  In fact, we often have to negotiate with it.  We have to talk to it.  And bargain with it.

Or sit while we contemplate our next move.  And if that doesn't work, hike up one hip and focus intently on the task at hand while straining really hard.  

Yeah, like that.  

I thought something was wrong with me.  With exception of a bad back, necessitating 4 surgeries at the time, five now, I made an appointment with a urologist.  After waiting months to find out my fate, I suffered through a battery of tests.  They took hours, with most of them demeaning to me and Mr. Johnson.  Some of those tests even took place in front of cute young babes, making any attempts to focus on the task completely out of the question.  

So I learned from the doctor that I had "BPH."  He said almost all men after the age of 40 wind up afflicted with it.  And that there was basically nothing I could do about it.  Except expect for it to take longer to pee.

Gee thanks, Doc!

In fact, that helpful young doctor explained further that more than half of all men wind up dying with prostate cancer, but not from it.  Because it grows so slowly we usually succumb from another ailment.  And God knows, as we age, we accumulate ailments.  It's my theory that we finally die when we get so sick of all our ailments we just roll over and give up.  

Ummm, maybe TMI.

So like I said, I've come to terms with Mr. Johnson's unwanted guest.  He wasn't invited and he's overstayed his welcome.  But there's no way I can evict him no matter how hard I try.  It seems he's just a part of growing old.  Like hair growing out of your ears but not on the top of your head.  

So I've learned to sit down, open up a magazine and just ask Mr. Johnson to explain to Mr. "BPH" that I'm not going anywhere.  And he might as well unleash the spigot.  "Unquench your miserable hold on nature!," I bellow!     

Sometimes it works.  Sometimes it doesn't.  And if it doesn't, I just have to wait awhile until I'm about to explode in order to go around Mr. "BPH" and pee like a racehorse.  Like a cow pissing on a flat rock.  Like a fire hose.  Like that...

I know childbirth's a bitch, but our womenfolk only have to go through it a time or two.  We men, on the other hand...

No More Mr. Nice Guy!

I wonder what would happen if there were roving gangs of Jews, all tatted up, 13 zippers on their leather jackets, terrorizing neighborhoods, torching businesses and courthouses, pillaging and plundering, shooting their guns in the air and taking anything they wanted, from anyone they wanted?

Like Antifa and Black Lives Matter does?  Routinely?  At will?  Without any fear of recrimination?  And the question we'd have to ask, is...

...Why?

I think what would happen is, those of us who are professional pantywaists, afraid of their own shadows, like nearly everyone under 40, would quiver in fear and run for the exits.  Perhaps to once again take up Jew-baiting as their preferred past-time, when once again safe from their wave of terror.

I've got to say,

it's 1938 all over again.

You'll notice none of these "Progressive" pukes are criticizing the Black gangs on the South side of Chicago?  The ones that kill an average of 14 and injure more than 45 every weekend?  Like MS-13, for instance.  Even though every Congressweenie knows full well who and what what MS-13 is, they will not condemn it.  Why?  Because they would have to hire personal bodyguards.  They'd be in fear for their lives.  Face it: they may be cowards, but they're not crazy.

Just reread that, then overlay it on the issue the Jews now face.

Yes, fellow Patriots, we all know why; they're afraid.  And the reason they're hating on the Jews is they aren't afraid.  Because a.), Jews represent only 1.7% of our population, and b.), the Jews tend to be pacifists.  I proclaim that the Jews have made themselves an easy target.  And they need to stop!

As I've said on many occasions prior, humans beings, like you and I, are like lions on the Serengeti.  We'll blame (or hunt down) the weakest in the herd.  Then feast away.  And the Jews have made themselves our weakest.  

I should insert about here that one of the first things I did upon arrival in Germany, courtesy of the U. S. Army, was to visit Dachau.  That's one of Hitler's most proficient Jew-killing machines.  Nearly One Million Jews were gassed in its "showers" under Hitler's order.  The German Government has decreed that this place shall remain forevermore exactly as it was the day our Allies liberated the prison.  And I was fortunate to visit.  Because my education had not included the degree of abject awfulness this place deserved.  And I'm afraid today's youth are not being told of it at all.  It is the pinnacle of "man's inhumanity to man."  It was a sunny day when I was there, yet the clouds covered Dachau.  As well they should...

I'm thinking we get that guy from NYC who started the Red Beret deal a couple decades ago.  The guy who put together gangs of Good Guys to counter the Bad Guys.  Successfully.  And have him then train all the Jews within a $Dollar phone call of Radio City Music Hall how to use guns and knives clubs and mace and tasers and terrorize and cause mayhem.  So that everyone will leave them the Hell alone!  Because Democrats are pus*ies!  You show them any sort of backbone at all and they wither.   

It's time for them to wither... 

*  More than 1,500 buildings were torched during the summer of 2020 by the Antifa and BLM thugs.  Including one Federal Courthouse and one Police Department.  14 cops were killed and another 354 were wounded.  But our so-called "MainStreamMedia" just refused to report on it.  More than $2 Billion Dollars in damage was done.  My personal favorite, 3 horses were burned to death in St. Louis when a criminal tossed a Molotov cocktail in their trailer.  Through it all only 500 arrests were made, and only 13 of the criminals were ever tried through to conviction for their crimes.  As opposed to the 4,000 indictments delivered following the January 6th Capitol uprising.  123 of those suspected rioters are still languishing in the Capitol jail.  Nearly 4 years later.  Consider that...  

For Those Still Inclined to Buy Electric...

For those of you who believe that the Earth is turning to toast and the seas are rising and we're all doomed unless you buy a Plug-In Electric car (proving you can still bullsh*t most anyone into believing most anything), take a moment and read this:

Elon the Musk was pontificating in a televised forum of some sort recently and was asked to give us mental midgets an insight into how these battery powered car thingies work.  

You know, the ones that make his overpriced, growed-up golf carts run.  

And the key question at this forum was, why it takes so *&+#@%$ long to charge them!

Elon gave us the very best definition of how they "work" I've yet heard.  As a world-class saleswizard,* figuring out ways to simplify difficult-to-decipher concepts was always my forte.  And it appears it's Elon's as well.  And his focus this day was telling us why we shouldn't charge them past 80%.  Except in emergencies, stop at 80%, he said, and head on down the road.  

What?  So get this, he asked us to picture a big vacant parking lot.  A lot where a car could choose to park anywhere its driver wished.  And then pretend those cars are lithium ions.  Okay so far?

So we pull our Plug-In-Electric car into the charger and hook up.  The early lithium ions to reach the "parking lot" can park anywhere they choose.  But as the lot fills up, picture your local mall at Christmastime, cars (ions) have to look for places to park.  And it takes them longer to find one.  Just as those late-arriving ions take longer to find a spot on those 4680 Panasonic rechargeable cells.  Which is what  Teslas use.  

So charging to 100%, can take up to twice as long as charging to 80%.  So if you stop charging at 80%, you can stop 20% more often, but speed up the actual time you spend traveling by more than 50%!   

And routine charging to 100% is also hard on your battery!  Who knew?  So stopping at 80% will also lead to longer battery life. 

That's brilliant!  And reasonable, even though counterintuitive upon first blush. 

That's why he's a $Billionaire.  

Except I don't need to do any of that crap when I pull up to the pump and stick some unleaded in my hydrocarbon-powered car.  For 5 minutes.  And then I'm gone.  Off to wherever my wandering spirit might take me.  With no need to follow the intricate instructions necessitating a degree from MIT to properly "condition" my 2,000 pound battery pack.  While giving the finger as I drive past that poor bastard with the Tesla, waiting for his place at the only functional charger behind a closed COSTCO, at Midnight.  Revving my rumbling V-8 engine.  Knowing he cannot, but wishing he could.  

And doing donuts as I go... 

*   Elon the Musk has built 1,800,000 Teslas.  Firstly, these things are an answer to a question that shouldn't even be asked.  We're sitting on a river of oil that should produce for us $1.50 a gallon gas, and these folks are talking about "The Sky is Falling!"  And second, Teslas are supposed to be "luxury" automobiles.  The kinds of cars those who have "made it" go out and buy to impress their friends and neighbors.  Except, just between you and me, I think if I had $100,000 to throw around, I'd want something a little more exclusive than a car more ubiquitous than Starbucks...

Mexico Has No 2nd Amendment.

Did you know that Meheeeko's citizens have no God-given, absolute, bestowed-upon-birth Right to "keep and bear arms" like we do?

Did you know that?

Nope, Mexicans may not own guns unless they're blessed by the Regime.  The Political Hierarchy in charge at the time.  And that's also why there's a scarcity of gun stores there.  Really scarce.  As in,

                           One.

There's one single gun store in all of the entire country of Mexico.  And to make matters even more interesting, that one single gun store is located inside the State Police Headquarters in Beautiful Downtown Mexico City.

Did you know that?

Makes it sorta' inconvenient to pop in over your lunch hour and pick up a Glock 23, now don't it?   

Now, I said there's no Right to have a gun in Meheeeko, but it seems nearly everyone there does.  If he or she wishes to keep breathing, that is.  You need a map to figure out which cartel's running which piece of dirt.  But only they have the guns, it seems.  The cartels, and all of their captains, and all of their lieutenants, and all of their soldiers.

And all of the cops who work for them.

And the Federal Government politicians that works for them, also.

Actually, I have it on good authority that the only folks not armed in Meheeeeeko are those po' folks who drive those old Volkswagens.  The people with a vote, but no political power.  You know the ones.    

Do you see what happens when the citizens lose their Right of self-defense?  Their Right to protect themselves and their families?  Especially from their own Government? 

 They go from citizens...to subjects!*

I'd like everyone to know I'm armed and should be considered extremely dangerous.  And if you're not, you should be...

*    Consider that China, and North Korea, and Venezuela, and Cuba, and Britain, and France, and Russia, and New Zealand, and Australia, and Germany, to name but a few, have all disarmed their own citizens.  Their citizens used to be able to protect themselves from the excesses of their governments, but were disarmed.  And are now mere subjects.  Oh yeah, Israel used to be on that list.  The list of disarmed citizens.  No longer.  October 7th caused them to "release the Kraken" and permit their people to own guns.  Some 3,000 firearms a day are now being sold to a justifiably frightened citizenry...    

Dodge City, Part Deux...

I'm considered by many to be an expert on the Old West.  And I count myself amongst that many.  

That's the period between 1850 and 1895.  And it covers all of the comings and goings that made that period of time in our history so very interesting.

And however broad that subject matter might be, I'll be focusing on Dodge City for today's rant, er... discussion.  And the cattle drive period of about 1848 to 1865.  The time when cowboys were herding millions of head of cattle north from their "fattening" grounds in northern Mexico and up to the railhead in Dodge.  For shipping by train to the Kansas City and Chicago stockyards, and on then to points East.  Followed by those cowboys getting drunk and raising old Billy Hell afterwards.  And the measures the town  marshals took to keep the town safe from their excesses.

And oh yeah, the thieves and whores who plagued these poor cowpokes during that entire period.

You've probably heard that Dodge City was a den of iniquity.  And it was.  And a place where you could get in a gunfight and die, if you weren't careful.  And it was.  And a place full of "flim-flam artists" and hookers who would lighten the back pockets of drunken cowboys.  And it was.

But it was also a pretty safe place, considering.  No matter what you may have heard.  If you were a dusty cowpoke, fresh off the trail, and you sauntered into the Long Branch Saloon and bellied up to the bar, and happened to bump into the tall guy next to you, do you know what you'd say?  You'd say, 

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Please excuse me."

Why?  Because that man was armed.  He had a .45 on his hip and he'd be certain to make your next breath your last if you pissed him off.  So not pissing him off is high on your list of things to do.  And you'd be armed, too, BTW.  And so was that guy on your left.  So everybody was armed, and nobody caused any trouble at all. 

NONE! 

To the point that between those self-same years of 1848 to 1865, there were a total of only 15 people killed in a gunfight.  In that entire period.  Only 15.  Google it if you doubt me.  It's true regardless of what you saw on "Gunsmoke."  "High Noon-style" gunfights, folks facing off on Main Street, were incredibly rare.  Only about a dozen occurred in the entire history of the Old West. 

Let me say again, only 15!

So let's summarize, shall we?  Dodge City was an Old West cow town without the necessary law enforcement to enforce the law (Hmmm.  Remind you of anything?).  So the customers, the cowboys who brought their cows and their thirst to this pivotal town, took care of it themselves.

WHICH SHOULD BE HAPPENING NOW!

It was just reported that the average police response time to 911 calls in our largest, Big Blue Cities was, ready for it?  31 minutes and 14 seconds.  That's why we say, "When seconds count, the police are only minutes away."

If there were armed neighborhood watch patrols, protecting the businesses and homes they rely on for their continued existence, like the bizz owners in Dodge put together, do you think there would be "breaking and enterings?"  "Smash and Grabs?"    

If you're living in one of those Big Blue cities where taking a walk after dark means taking your life in your own hands, I have a suggestion:  

Buy a gun, learn how to use it, and then carry it with you wherever you go.  

I suggest you also obtain a legal Concealed Carry Permit in those Big Blue states requiring it (37 of our states, don't!).  But whether you do or not, put your gun in your pocket and keep it with you at all times.  You'll likely never be called upon to use it.  But if you are, I'll end with this admonition:

"It's better to be judged by 12, then carried by 6."     

Just imagine what (wouldn't) happen if the criminals didn't know who was armed, but learned through the grapevine that most people were?

"Back to the Future!"

The main reason non-believers keep telling us "UFO's" can't exist, is that the nearest star with "Goldilocks" capable planets is 4.8 light years away.  

By "Goldilocks" meaning, not too hot, not too cold.  And that's waaaay too far for those "little green men" to flit back and forth.  Ergo, they can't exist.  End of discussion.  

Not critical thinking.

Since we've had more than 20,000 sightings of "UFO's" or "UAP's" (Unidentified Arial Phenomena, as the Feds like to call them) in just this Century, I think the question of whether they exist has been already been answered.  The question of who they are and where they come from, and do they mean us harm, are far better ones.  And I have a possible answer:

Since there's credible evidence of alien visitation dating back many thousands of years, and the credible suggestion that they involved themselves in our development as a species, to include even messing around around with our DNA, I'm thinking they may be visitors, from the future.

Like maybe 80,000 years in the future.

And even better, they may be US from the future!  As in, you and me!  Whatcha' think about that?  Since they're, a) here; and we have no idea where they come from or where they hang out while we're not watching them flit around; and b), Occam's Razor says they've got to be from somewhere, but not too far away.  So I'm guessing it's the future. 

Our Future!

And while you're getting your head around that, I also believe there may be a species of bipedal mammals rambling around the forested areas of the world.  While keeping their asses hidden to the maximum extent possible.  Because Homo Sapiens is a ferocious and efficient killer of its competitors.  

And if you're thinking there's not enough greenery to hide behind, there's more than 1,000,000 square miles of forest in Canada, and 1,200,000 square miles in Alaska.  Nobody home.  Entirely vacant.  Except for...

For context, there were up to nine such competitive species to ours vying for supremacy at one time, many thousands of years ago.  Like the Troglodytes.  And the Neanderthals.  And the Homo Florensiensis.  All lived at the same time and competed with each other for territory and food and even mates.  Yes, some of these species went "boom-boom" with each other.  That's why some 16% of us now carry Neanderthal genes (look it up).  

But there's a species called the Denisovans, which lived about 60,000 years ago, primarily in Asia, and was about twice our size.  However, they could easily have crossed the "land bridge" to North America during the Ice Age.  And then proceeded to compete along with those other species in the Fight for Survival.  

They lost out to us, as did all the other competitors.  We won, they lost.  And then we evolved into Homo Sapiens Sapiens.  

I'm proud to present, the Modern Human.

However, who's to say that one or more of those competitor species refused to die out?  Maybe they just figured out that a strategic retreat is the better part of valor.  As in, they ran for their lives, 'cause we humans are the "boogeyman."  We're the most efficient killers on the planet.  We are to be feared.  The Top of the Food Chain.     

Don't believe me?  Look what we did to the Dodo bird!  And the sperm whale!  And the buffalo!  And the Indians that ate them!  Oh, I'm sorry, "Indigenous Personages!"  Or something.

So yeah, on the way out the door, my bona fides on the subject are deep; my 1st cousin Kenneth Arnold is credited with having the very first post-War UFO sighting.  He was a cartographer for the Army Air Force back in 1947, flying a Piper Cub and mapping the terrain around Mount Shasta.  He's the guy who saw and photographed 9 "objects" flying nearby.  He described them as "saucer shaped" because they were flat.  He estimated their speed at 3,200 miles per hour, at a time when the fastest plane in our inventory was a P-51 Mustang at 450 mph!

He became a lawyer and married my Aunt Carol.  He told me all about his sighting as he assembled his own home-built aircraft in his basement.  He did that over several years as we awaited the unveiling.  Except, we learned that the finished product was too big to get through the basement door.  High-level thinkers are like that sometimes.  

Do with that bit of news as you will.

And for those of you who have a hard time believing these critters have been visiting us for millennia, take a look at the Great Pyramid of Giza.  2,800,00 stone blocks, each averaging 2 and 1/2 tons, stacked 481 feet high.  We're told it was built over a 22 year period for Pharoah Khufu.  Were all this true, and if you do the math, these blocks would have to have been placed every 2 minutes, around the clock.  

And oh yeah, the ancient Egyptians had no wheel, nor beasts of burden.  I tend to think these folks had a little help from, you know, up there...    

So yeah, I believe in UFO's, or UAP's, or whatever one chooses to call them.  I tend to think we're their "zoo" where they use us as lab rats.  And maybe we're where their Little Green Men get to go on extended military tours.  Like our soldiers are stationed in Hawaii.*  Say, a couple of years here, then...

           "Back to the Future."

Sorry, I just couldn't resist...

*   I read that these LGM roll up their windows and lock their doors as they fly by Earth...

"Management By Objective"

I learned from my time leading men in the Army, and leading employees to profitability, that paying folks by the hour is completely upside down and inside out.  

And stupid.

Think about it:  We pay an hourly wage to those who agree to work for it.  And then watch them congregate around the water cooler, scratch their asses and talk about last night's football game.

And to those who think they're worth more than their stingy boss(es) agree to pay, they can express their displeasure by simply f**king off.  Got it?

NOW TELL ME YOU HAVEN'T DONE THAT!

And especially in these days of "remote" work.  Where they stay home but are supposed to be churning out the work.  But instead they're eating bon-bons, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and watching reruns of Jerry Springer on the Telly.

I learned in the Army to have a sit down with those under my leadership, reach a mutual agreement about their near-term Plan Of Action, put it writing, and have both of us sign it off.  I could then go off and take care of other duties, knowing full well that my employee would then manage himself.  And accomplish that Plan.  Because he feared not doing so.  The future was verrry dark for those who intentionally underperformed.  And is was intentional, because they were in complete control of the outcome.  

Get it?   

Then I came home, got a job, got promoted to leadership and learned all about Management By Objective.  I learned that what I'd done in the Army was an actual thing in business.  My employees told me what they were going to do, we negotiated it back and forth, we put it in writing, and I then held them to it.  They get it done, they get a raise.  They didn't, unless they had a damn fine excuse, they packed up and hit the bricks.

What's not to understand?

But get this, fully 55.5% of our entire workforce works by the hour!  Paid an average of $29.81 per hour.  That's a total of 73.0 Million, 16-and-older Americans.  43% of those employees are paid bi-weekly, and 29% are paid every week, BTW. 

And strangely, I found that the vast majority of our police are paid by the hour, all the way up to top management, ala the Chief and Asst. Chief!  

Think about that: Cops are hired in at an annual $ rate, which is then divided backwards into an hourly rate.  So while they're holding you up for an hour by the side of the road, running you for wants and warrants, they're still being paid.  Or sitting in a patrol car, eating donuts and watching YouTube videos.  Or riding a desk at HQ and watching, well, whatever, they're still "earning" their hourly pay. 

And then work x amount of overtime, at time and a half, thus possibly doubling their supposed "annual pay rate." 

How about we pay Patrolman Jones $X Dollars a Month to patrol East Jefferson all the way up to South Benjamin?  And then hold him to certain anticipated accomplishments?  Like reducing vagrancy by 8%?  Or slowing down traffic by 4 mph?  He could certainly call if or when he needed help, but that chunk of real estate would be Jonesies.'    Wouldn't Patrolman Jones be a little more judicious in the use of his time?  And perhaps a bit nicer to the members of his community?  Whose help he would need to accomplish his goals?  Truth is, we just want him to do the job he's paid to do, even if he does so out of fear.  

Remember, the fear of loss is a far greater motivator than the antici-pation of gain.

I can maybe see paying garbage collectors by the hour, or those who catch stray dogs, but the people with badges?  Our "sworn" officers?  Those licensed by the State to put us in jail and take our money?  If we're paying the folks who write the laws by the month, why shouldn't we pay those who enforce the laws by the month?  

My dearly departed wife and I started and ran our business for more than 38 years.  And never did we pay an employee by the hour.  Never.  Pay cops by the hour?  I Don't think so.

I have thus spake.

"The Quiet Part Out Loud"

Bloomberg TV conducted an interview with Department of Homeland Security Secretary, Alejandro Mayorkas yesterday.

Mayorkas was asked what he intended to do with all the millions and millions of illegal aliens he's let into our Country.  One would assume he'd have answered the same way he answered Congress when asked that same question.  As in, "The Border is secure."  

But no.  This time he went off his well-seasoned message.  Presumably believing he was in the friendly camp, he decided to finally tell the truth.  See if you find Mayorkas' answer both startling and enlightening...

"There are 12 million people in the United States illegally who contribute so fundamentally to our Country's well being."

Well then, that finally puts a number to the flood of illegals coursing across our Southern Border.  Most of those railing against these Country-destroying policies have been forced to put the number closer to 7 million illegal crossings.  Because they didn't have the real number.  Because the Government, YOUR Government, wouldn't give it to us.  But Mayorkas, the guy charged with making sure nobody crosses our Border illegally, has overseen 12 million of them!   

12 Million!  Did you know that's more people than live in 11 of our states?  Including Hawaii?  And Alaska?  And O'Biden's own Delaware?  Did you know Mayorkas has let in more people than live in, Houston, Chicago and Baltimore?

I'll leave you with Joe O'Biden's own words while on the campaign trail back on September 19th, 2019.  He said, and I friggin' quote:

"Elect me and I'll open our borders to 3 million new immigrants every year!

That might be the only campaign promise the Mumbler-in-Chief has kept.  And the one we most feared he'd keep...    

The "Summer of Love"

Unless you've been living in a refrigerator box behind the local Wal-Mart, you've no doubt noticed the violent anti-Jewish and anti-Israeli protests taking place across our oldest, largest and most prestigious college and university campuses. 

You know, the ones that cost parents a $New $Car in tuition every year they send their precious darlings off to their "re-education camps."

The result should have been predictable.  Protests involving tens of thousands of students, each waving Palestinian flags or shouting "From the river to the sea!"  Hopefully not knowing the gravity of those words.  

Or perhaps, they do.

These were purported to be our best and our brightest.  Should have been our best and brightest.  Our post-grad and post-doctoral students from $60,000 a year, Ivy-League schools, hurling the most vile invectives at their fellow Jews.  Fellow Jews with whom they've broken bread and shared a campus for years.  Without any such racism and hate previously surfacing.  Why?  And why now?

And to add to those questions, let me add a rather jarring factoid:  99.9% of all these students who are so violently and often illegally protesting Israel and the Jews today will not suffer a backlash or other negative response to their evil and divisive actions.  But they WILL be Professors and Chancellors and Superintendents and Presidents and Chairmen of our largest and most prestigious universities, tomorrow.

Let that sink in.  And then consider the following...

                        /////   +++   \\\\\   

I often wondered what happened to all those drug-addled, booze-drenched, sex-crazed anti-war wierdos who infested the Haight-Ashbury District during San Franpoopco's "Summer of Love."

You don't remember them?  Thousands of tie-dyed hippies, constantly stoned, engaging in full-on sex in view of SFO's kiddies, right there in the public parks? 

Kinda' like they do today, BTW.  It was illegal then, and they did it.  It's legal now, and they're still doing it.  Just sayin'...

But for those who wonder where the so-called "MainStreamMedia," and all our colleges and universities went off the tracks, I would say just take a look back at the "Summer of Love."  I watched it from afar.

Now we're all living it from "a-near."

My thesis is that, having nowhere else to go, all those stoners and anti-social, change-the-world zealots went on to colleges and universities.  And then, since their only talent was smoking dope and protesting, stayed on there to become tenured CPDLW* professors.  Professors of "Black Studies" and "White Colonialism."  And even "Medieval Lesbian Poetry."  While they brainwashed your children!  

Yes, fellow Patriots, they stayed on at their alma maters to teach socialist/ Marxist/communist garbage to the children of priveleged, upper-income parents who struggled to send them there.  Or even worse, where the kids take out student loans they can't repay.  Unless the Mumbler-in-Chief decides unilaterally to cancel them later.  Which he's furiously now doing in an effort to buy their votes.  Sad.  

Or, permit them to now declare bankruptcy to avoid repaying their lawful debt.  And then shift the burden of repayment on you and me.  The Taxpayers.  And we didn't send our kids to those schools!  Because we couldn't afford it!  Do you see the irony in this?

You know that I've been advocating for years for parents to refuse to play this game.  DO NOT send your kids to these brainwash factories!  DO NOT make your kid waste money learning all sorts of useless nonsense they cannot readily convert into an income!  DO let them go to a community college for two years for almost nothing, while they work at Home Depot or MickeyD's to save up some money for when they head off to an upper-level college for their final two!  Why?

     1.  They'll get to grow up a bit before being thrust into The Game.  A Game in which they may not be Game-ready.  That's why some 40% of all college freshmen either flunk out, or achieve so little they're forced to repeat the classes.  And then achieve so little they wind up asking, "Would you like fries with that?"

     2.  They can get a job and learn to work and pay their bills and be an adult before they go away to school and waste your money as a kid.  Like I wasted my parent's money as a kid.  Yes, I come at this from experience.  You might as well learn from mine. 

The Bottom Line:  Our most prestigious colleges and universities exist only to promote the value of their own diplomas.  Which their graduates then wave around like victors on the Battlefield of Life.  So they can get better paying jobs.  Lemme' see here.  Pay more, get more?  Or pay more, and get it jabbed up your a*s more?

Or maybe pay less, get that coveted diploma, and wind up with exactly the same thing?  Duh!

*    "CPDLW" stands for "Commie Pinko Dummass Liberal Weenies.  The very best way I've found to describe these miscreants...

Dear Bebe...

November 25, 2023

Jerusalem, Knesset, Israel, Promised Land

Attn:  Mr. Benjamin Netanyahu, Prime Minister

Dear Bebe;

     I'd like to apply for the job as your Hostage Negotiator in your Holy War with HAMASS.  

     We all know this is the Palestinian terrorists' 7th uprising since your Country was created back in 1947.  Well, not "created," exactly, as God already did that when He gave Judea to the Jews in Genesis 12:1, multi-thousands of years ago.

So that little consideration has already been worked out, as they say.

Except this is the very first one in which the merciless, hedonistic, anti-God murderers have chosen to chop off babies' heads.  40 of them.  Which tells us they have no other hobbies.  They were given 25 miles of the most beautiful, pristine shoreline on the Mediterranean and could have built world-class resorts to help their people with the $Billions they were given.  But they chose to dig tunnels and make rockets and bombs instead, and chose murdering Israelis as their National Pasttime.

As we all know, it's in their Charter.  Oh, I'm sorry, not all, as it seems many of the students in America's most prestigious colleges and universities haven't bothered to read that quite yet.  

     And as you've surmised, killing them, like any invasive pest, is your only option.  Regardless of how much grief POTUS Joe is getting from the HAMASS-Wing of his Party.  And that Wing seems to be growing in size.  So we all know you have to stroke him a bit to keep those weapons flowing while you kill the rest of the terrorists, right?  Right!

     So I'd therefore like to provide you with a synopsis of My Plan in dealing with those mangy evil killers.  It's not lengthy.  Ready?  Here we go:

     "Release all the hostages now! 

  Otherwise, we will kill you sooner!"

     There it is.  You like it?  YOU LIKE IT?  I thought you would!  So all we have to do to put my little Plan in motion is slip a note to the Head HAMASSIAN living the life of luxury there in Qatar that you consider the hostages all dead.  Too bad, so sad.  That's the high price of doing that kabutzim-ing thing.  We'll tell them you'll no longer trade 1,000 evil terrorists for one 19 year-old IDF private.  Them days, as they say, is over.  Now, we'll trade 7.62mm rifle slugs and 155mm Howitzer shells for hostages.  So buckle up, HAMASS-ians, we're coming for you!

     That's the Plan, Bebe.  I'm available at a moment's notice to hop a plane and come join you and the IDF in your Quest.  To finally root out terrorism high and low (and preferably high).  Awaiting your call, or text, or email, or passenger pigeon, I remain,

                                  Very truly yours,

                                  The Chuckmeister

      

And The Winner Is!

By now everyone's given thanks for everything for which they're thankful.  Including the wheel, air, Band-Aids and pecan pie.  Especially pecan pie.

I have as well, to include my lovely daughters, their delightful children, and their sufferable husbands.  

But in addition, now that Turkey Day is over, I'd like to express my thanks for an item almost never singled out for thankfulness.  And I'm about to right that wrong, right here, right now, today.  Ready?

      ...The TV Remote Control!

Yes, fellow Patriots, no one asked me to dig deep to discover our Most Important Invention.  But as a Patriot, and knowing that my Gubmint is busy ushering in our newest voting bloc, those Illegal Aliens streaming across our Southern Border, the millions and millions of them, and micro-managing the War in Gaza, and desperately trying to convince us all that "Bidenomics" is good for us, I decided to volunteer.

America needs more volunteers, right?

So I looked at all different categories of inventions, to include the airplane (they fall out of the sky and kill people!), and guns (little items spurt out of their pointy ends and blood flows!), and even cars (4,000 lb. missiles driven by snot-nosed, pimply-faced teenagers, street racing all thither and yon and running down little girls on tricycles!), but there was one clear winner:  

                      The TV Remote Control.  

Nobody doesn't like the Remote Control!

Ahhhh, the freedom!  The new sense of ease that confronts one as one operates the leg lift on one's Barcalounger and prepares to view a rerun of "All in the Family" is just beyond belief.  And trust me, I know, because I was my Father's TV remote control-er for many years in my yout (what's a yout?).  So I welcome their arrival upon the scene with gusto.  

And vigah!  

Say you're an Amazon delivery guy/gal/it and you've been delivering packages to folks all day.  When you come on home, take your shoes off and put up your feet, the very last thing you want to do is get up and change the channel!  Especially when those insufferable "My Pillow" commercials come on!  Or maybe an ad for any of the 150 drugs to fix medical conditions you don't have!

Annnnnd, did you know that most Remotes have a "fast forward" feature?  That'll permit it to jump ahead 30 seconds?  And did you know that football plays in the NFL must happen every 30 seconds?  And that 2 games are often on simultaneously?  So you can watch two games at the same time by using the "FF" feature and jumping back and forth?  Sort of like speed football?  Back and forth, zip zap!  Did you know that?  No?  Well, that's why you have The Chuckmeister!

Yes, fellow Patriots, I love exclafrigginmation points!

So I say we knight the inventor of Remote Controls.  Knight, hell, let's make him/her/it into a Saint!  Saint Remote!   

There.  I've opined.  And my spleen is once again devoid of bile.  

Have a feet-up, channel changing-free day...

Like it Was Yesterday...

It was 60 years ago tomorrow.  November 22, 1963.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday.  The day Jack Kennedy was murdered.

To set the stage, I was hustling some "hearts" in Northwest Missouri State College's Community Commons.  That's what Liberals call a huuuuge dining hall.  It makes them feel more like it's important, so they must be important.  

Anyway, I was always hustling something.  Pool was my old standby, but poker, pin ball, drag racing, or even pitching pennies closest to a crack in the sidewalk.  And trying to earn a living taking $cash from the local student body was my goal that fateful day.  But it was early afternoon when the announcement came over the TV...

12:30 p.m. CST.  President John F. Kennedy had been shot!  The thousand or so kids in the Commons fell to a hush.  Sort of a rolling quiet all the way to an audio nothingness.  You could have heard a napkin drop in a room full of 1,000 kids.  Someone turned up the little TV in the corner to max and we crowded around it.  For an hour or more we were glued to that little TV.  We followed Kennedy's limo from Dealey Plaza, the locus of the shooting, and on to Parkland Hospital.  And from then we waited.

And waited...

The announcement came over the TV loudspeaker a bit later.  John Kennedy was dead.  Everyone sucked in their breath in unison.  This could not be happening, I thought.  Not in America!  They proceeded to transport his body to the airport, and then on up and into the belly of Air Force One for its trip back to Washington.  Vice President Johnson was sworn in as President as the plane took off on its journey into history.

To say we were shocked would be an understatement.  We were gobsmacked!  There were kids walking around in a daze, tears running down their cheeks!  You must remember those were the long-lost apolitical days.  Where being a Democrat or a Republican didn't much matter between friends.  Even enemies!  But when having your President murdered, did.  It put the entire Nation into a Major League funk.  And us as well.

The kids in the Commons that day had all grown up in an era when we all stood, hands over our hearts, facing the Flag and repeating the "Pledge of Allegiance" at the start of each school day.  And then later, in high school, we'd stand at attention by our desks as the principal read the "Pledge" over the loudspeaker as school started.  Hands over our hearts, facing the Flag, as always...

There was a Flag in every school room, of course.  Because this was the United States of America.  The Country that had Saved the World!  And we knew we'd already won the population lottery by being born in the only place on Earth with total freedom.  

Or, at least it was back then.

There were conflicting reports about how JFK was shot as soon as the smoke was clearing.  And I, being a certified gunsmith and competition shooter, knew the physical limitations of the weapon the accused was purported to have used.  In fact, I purchased one exactly like it via an ad in the back of "Field & Stream Magazine" in 1960 or early '61.  

It was a Mannlicher-Carcano carbine in 6.5mm.  That's about .270 caliber, roughly, or about what you'd use to hunt deer.  It was Italy's military equivalent of the German Mauser rifle patent, the most popular firearm in the world at the time.  it was both quickly and poorly made of all stamped pieces (not forged), and was infamous for its inaccuracy.  The one I bought included a 4x telescopic sight and cost me, are you ready for it?  $9.95.  Only.  

So now I was supposed to believe that a sometime communist revolutionary ex-Marine could fire three shots out of a rickety old bolt-action, WW2-era rifle, in something like 5 seconds, at an open limo travelling around a curve, at an estimated 9 mph, from the third story of a brick building, through a bushy tree.

Ummm, no!

I wasn't buying it, and neither were my friends.  To the point where four of us hopped in my 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury.  It fit four, and four of us made the trip.  Non-stop.  From Marysville, Missouri to Dallas, Texas.  17 hours straight.  At 100 mph for most of the way.  We were on a mission.  We were going to go there, look things over for ourselves, and figure out what happened.  We had appointed ourselves as investigators on behalf of those who couldn't make the trip.  That was back when we actually thought we could change the world.  And we were set about to do so.

Yeah, that's what we did.

We arrived at about 6:00 a.m.  We stopped for some coffee and doughnuts and directions to Dealey Plaza.  It looked pretty much as we'd seen on TV as we arrived, except the crowd had dispersed.  There were only a few dozen mourners left to mark the scene of the crime.  We drove past the infamous Texas Book Depository Building and parked across the street.  We exited my car and did an immediate 360 degree scope-out.  I stood directly across from the infamous "grassy knoll."  I viewed the entire scene.  And I can tell you there had to be a second shooter.  

If not a third. 

We stayed for the day and night and the next morning before departing for home.  At a more liesurely pace.  For we had gotten what we'd come for.  We'd decided for ourselves what must have happened by simply viewing the scene critically.  And many others had done the exact same thing.  However young and dumb we were, smoke could not be blown up our collective arsses.  

We weren't buying it.

P.S.  The Postcript of this blog posting is that the Warren Commission met for a year, reviewed some, but not all of the evidence, and quickly issued its "findings."  JFK was shot by a lone assassin.  Can I say, Bulls*it?  There are at least three main theories as to who put Lee Harvey Oswald up to it:  The Mob, the FBI and the Cubans.  But believe me, it wasn't only Oswald.  He was made the patsy sure as night follows day.  And anyone who paid attention knows it.  But as with now, there are way too few folks paying attention...

If you'd like another opinion on the matter, read Mark Lane's, "Rush to Judgement."  It's a 1,000 page, page-turner.  It lists all the evidence and all the efforts to cover it up.  And you'll be happy you read it because you'll finally know, and sorry you read it because you'll finally know...  

Very simply, the Warren Report was intended to defuse a bomb.  A civil war.  It did tamp down some of the uproar over this outrage at the time, but not all.  There's still an undercurrent of disbelief running through our society.  There's still the feeling that we were manipulated to make this story go away.

It hasn't gone away.  

I doubt anyone in my family knows of this, as I don't recall ever mentioning it.  But I'm telling it now.  On this occasion, as well as on so many other occasions, folks like me found out the Government had lied to us.  They started with Roswell, and just couldn't stop.  We caught them at it.  

This was the death of America's innocense.  And one could say it's been a downhill trip ever since...