The "Cuisinart Effect."

I was perusing Tesla's online sales brochure yesterday.  You know you can only buy these critters direct, doncha?  As in, no dealerships.  The only car dealer to not have...dealers.  How'd he get away with that?  Anyway, one of its options is eye-popping.  Lemme' 'splain...

Every car ad you see on the Telly is for a plug-in electric (PIE).  Not an auto-regenerating hybrid, mind you.  And not even a regular old gas-operated vehicle.  Old hat, those.  But they have an average of 33,123 parts on board.  PIE's?  1,327.  That oughta tell you all you need to know about their hoped-for profit.

And your Gubmint is taking your tax dollars and forcing your neighbor to help you buy one.  As much as $7,500.  For whatever reason.  As yet to be determined.  Whether your neighbor has one or not.  Did you know that?  

And so far, about 6.8% of our population has responded by buying or leasing one or these new-fangled devices.  Except in Taxifornia, where 16.9% of our residents acquired a new PIE vehicle.  We're always ahead of the pack here when it comes to dumb sh*t.

Remember the Pet Rock?

But what blows this tired old soldier away is that some of these PIE purchasers are tikking the self-driving option.  In Tesla's case, that's... 

                            $15,000 Extra!

You read that right.  You pays $90,000 or $100,000 for a 2,000 pound battery and four wheels, and then you gets to pay them another $15k for somebody else to drive it?  From some sattelite somewhere?  When we read every day about these spontaneous combustion machines running over little girls on tricycles?

When I was a kid we would have walked over broken glass to get to drive.  Driving meant freedom!  It meant getting out from under the control of mommy and daddy.  It meant being able to turn left versus right.  Go to town or out in the country.  Or go to that special parking spot with little Suzie on Friday night.  We would have stomped warm puppies to death to get to drive our cars!  We would have kissed our sisters to drive our cars!  On the lips!  

Whatever the Hell has happened to America?

I just read a poll that reported fully 30% of our police are "uncomfortable" being photographed, even though under Federal court case "Turner v. Driver" its our Constitiutional right to film them.  Why?  Are they doing something we should know about?  Or are they just improperly trained?

I wonder what percentage of our soldiers in foxholes during WW2 would have been uncomfortable being filmed?  SInce they were the ones who by their victory reaffirmed that Constitutional Right.

Have we turned into a bunch of pus*ies?  Limp-wristed twits scared of our own shadows?  I recall a time in my (whatsa') yout when a few of us parked a truck under a shade tree on afternoon, then pulled and replaced the motor that same day.  Today?  I just noticed a tag under my hood.  It read:  "Don't drink the battery acid."  I doubt half our yout could change a tire.  Or want to.  

I don't know for sure, but I sense a silver lining in all of this.  The auto industry trade journals report that PIE's are stacking up on dealer lots.  They are waaaay behind on anticipated sales.  As in, LOTS of them on dealer lots!  We know that GM and Ford and Toyota have invested $Billions in their battery technology, and need to sell cars to recoup.  Ford has stated they anticipate losing more than $4.5 Billion this year on their PIE program.    

              Those cars aren't selling.  

Example:  Hyundai's killer success the Ionic5 came on the market last September.  They were immediately priced at $Thousands above their window price.  But here's something that might prove interesting.  An Ionic5, with a window price of $51,945, is being advertised for sale this weekend by thier Corona dealer at $41,050.  $11,000 under window!  Holy price dump, Batman!

Didja' know that PIE cars take 41% longer to charge when the temp outside is below 20 and above 100 degrees fahrenheit?  Deep into this year's heat wave, PIE owners are finding this out.  That may be one reason why sales are cratering... 

I sense we may be entering a period called the "Cuisinart Effect."  If you're unfamiliar, Cuisinart was an overnight "must have" back in the 80's.  They were the original food processors, pimped by a succession of famous chefs.  They were a multi-year smash.  People were standing in line to buy them.  

Until the day they weren't.  

Sales stopped dead, virtually overnight.  Screeeeching halt!  And the Harvard Business Review, after a bunch of research, came up with this conclusion as to why: 

             Everybody who wanted one...

                had already bought one.

I think it just might work out that way for our PIE's.  If you live within a short drive of the movie studios, or Pier 39, or the Space Needle, or the Empire State Building, or the White House, a case might be made for a PIE car.  Especially as a second, back-up to your ICE car.  But if you live between the Appalachian Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, they make little sense whatsoever.  Even at half the price.

Even when your neighbor is helping you pay for it.

Might be a good time to short the car stocks, buy an ICE car while the "Big Guy" and his gaggle of socialist friends still permits it, load up your .30-.30 and hole up in your mountain cabin until things get back to normal.

       If they ever get back to normal...  

The Treaty of Guadelupe Hidalgo.

The official end to the Mexican-American War was the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848.  

Since we kicked their asses, we got to decide how much of Mexico we decided to take.  As our very own.  Spoils of war, and all that.

Prior to that War, Mexico owned everything in California up past San Franpoopco, then all the way over past Utah, and down to include all of Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and most of Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas.  

So, how much should the victors enjoy these spoils?  Should we have taken it all?  I think so.  But we didn't.  We only took the territory north of the Rio Grande.  That's a River.

And we've been paying for that mistake ever since.  

The agreement to have the Line of Demarcation between Meheeeeko and 'Murcia be the Rio (not so)Grande, was pretty stupid.  Had we just subsumed the entire country all that time ago, it could by now have been our 51st State, and we could have machine gun emplacements all across its Southern Border with Central 'Murica.  Had we done so, we wouldn't have had to ask, "pretty please," for people to stop raping, pillaging and plunding our Border.  We could just have demanded it. 

                     LIKE MEXICO DOES TODAY!

Did you know Meheeeeeko has tens of thousands of its crackest of troops guarding its southern border with Guatemala?  With machine guns ever 100 yards?  With overlapping sweeps so as not to allow any non-Meheeekanos in?  Because that's what borders are for?

The Bottom Line:  We are the world's chumps.  Its citizens break into our Country, illegally, and we give them stuff as a reward.  More than 7,000,000 of them so far.  Equal to the population of Hawaii and Nebraska.  So far.  They're living in style at Times Square on your $Dollar.  And this orchestrated chaos will continue until the "Big Guy" is made to leave office.  One way or another.   

Even the "Cackler-in-Chief" would be an improvement at this point...

Any questions?

Born Too Soon (Part 1)

We're were scare of The Man, back when I was a kid.  And that kept us on the Straight and Narrow, as my folks used to call it.  I had two of them.  Folks, that is.  In fact, I didn't know a single kid who didn't have a matched set of parents.  

Two of them.

Perhaps that had something to do with our almost non-existent crime rate.  We didn't commit crimes, and the cops didn't arrest us.  And the D. A. didn't prosecute us.  And we didn't go off to the Gray Bar Hotel.  

But our society has now gone soft on crime.  Too soft, in my opinion.

Now, you rob a convenience store, steal a car, run over an old lady, and get caught with enough Fentanyl in the trunk of your trunk to kill everybody in Cinncinnatti, and you'll get a no-cash bail, get-out-of-jail free card.  And an apology letter from the mayor, quite possibly. 

If they can somehow manage to catch up to you.  With their diminished supply of cops.  The ones they've so vigorously defunded.  Likely the next time they'll see you is when you get arrested for your next crime.  As you'll always commit...  

We know that's true 'cause there was this guy in West Covina, California, who had his own minor crime wave this past year.  He stole three cars, all within 24 hours, starting at 11:20 p.m. on a Tuesday.  And all within the city limits of West Covina, California (there is no East Covina).  And he was out on a no-cash bond for all three by 3:30 Wednesday afternoon. 

Seems like you and me, fellow Patriot, were born a bit too soon.  Please allow me to provide an example:

I can tell you the story of a young man who stole $163.00 from a chicken hatchery back in 1953.  That was 70 years ago.  He worked for them after school and on weekends, sweeping up and dusting and mopping.  He thought he deserved a raise.  His boss disagreed.  So he took the money when they weren't looking.  He thought.  Dumb decision, and one he'd come to regret for the rest of his life.

He was tried and convicted of a felony and sentenced to the Algoa Reformatory for Boys, in Jefferson City, Missouri.  Until he was 21 years old.  And since he was only 16 at the time, it was a 5 year sentence.  For what would now be called petty theft.  Today, he'd be released on a no-cash bail and told to stop back sometime in the Fall and say "hi" to the judge.  If it wouldn't prove too inconvenient.  

This event I told you about ruined the life of that young man.  I can tell you that for certain, as he was my older brother.  He was 16 and I was 10.  I watched the sheriff put him in handcuffs and lead him away.    

His name was John, he was six years my senior, and he's passed on to his just rewards.  I can therefore now tell his story, not to embarrass his memory, but to make the starkest of comparisons between then...and now.

Then?

They threw you in the slammer for almost nothing.  And there was almost no crime.

Now?  

You can do pretty much anything you want to anyone you want, at anytime you want, and nobody gives a sh*t.  And nobody goes to jail.  Why do we need jailers, again?  Is that an improvement?

BTW, one side effect of all this is I learned how to fight.  Having my brother called a "jail bird" sparked many after school dust ups.

My brother was born too soon.  And, ummm, so was I.  I might actually have chosen a different career path had the outlaw ub in me grown up in today's liberal 'Murica.  

Now then, being born today means you can steal the car you want instead of work for it.  You can walk into Bloomingdale's and simply grab an armfull of clothes and walk out.  Without paying.  And if the clerk tries to stop you, he'll get fired.*  It was just reported that San Franpoopco pharmacies are now chaining up their toothpaste.  And their ice cream.  And thier Tide.  With chains.  And padlocks.  

Is this Bizarroo World, or what?  

Yes, yes it is.

While trans wierdos are flashing their tits at White House gettogethers, viewed by none other than our own Bad Conduct Discharged crack-addict and whoremonger, Mr. Hunter Biden, who today will plead in the Delaware District Court to two misdemeanor sweetheart deals in an effort to avoid 10 years in jail for the commission of two felonies.  He perjured himself on Federal Form 4453 when he bought a gun.  Which is a felony.  Which he then threw in a trash can at a supermarket.  Which is a felony.  Forget everything else: where we to do the same thing as the Big Guy's son, it would cost $3.00 to get us a postcard.  

Americans are suffering through record inflation and crime and stultifying overregulation.  And those of us who like to obey the law are conflicted; it would pay so much better to do the Five Finger Discount, now wouldn't it?  

I am not suggesting we revert to the overly harsh sentencing so prevalent in my brother's time, but maybe take a look at whether perpetrators have previous crimes on the books before turning them loose to commit others.  A rap sheet as long as your arm should be enough.

What do you think?

The Answer. Finally.

Forever, we citizens of the U. S. of A. have been subjected to a never-ending barage of nastiness and gaslighting and snipping at our heels from the anti-gun brigade out there.  They blame firearms for what their owners do with them.  They want our weapons taken away.  For some strange reason. 

Maybe so we'll be more compliant?

You know what they say, a disarmed society is a compliant society...

But in the meantime all these harpies have been screaming that guns are more deadly than cars!  At the top of their lungs!  Yet, they don't seem all that concerned about placing blame upon the driver.  Instead of the car.  When everyone knows you can put a 16 year-old behind the wheel of a 4,000 pound missile and he can wipe out an entire family.  On their way to a church social.  

Which is more dangerous?  A 16 year-old kid with a .22 rifle, or a 16 year-old kid with a Corvette?  

Hmmm?

So The Chuckmeister,* a guy who just barely passed math, but who has the geometry of a pool table all mapped out, has come up with a unique mathmatical formula that reduces this whole thing to a simple equation.  Are you ready?  Here goes...

     -  According to the National Transportation Safety Board, 42,795 people died from all sorts of auto accidents in 2022.  

     -  And, according to the Center for Disease Control,** 44,310 people died by gunfire of all types in 2022.

We're getting somewhere, now aren't we?  You'll note those two numbers are not statistically different, one from the other, so for the purposes of this lecture, let's just consider them even.

     -  Okay then, that same NTSA tells us there are 290,800 automobiles in America.  Cars of all types.  Got it?  

     -  And the FB of I (which, I remind you, we can no longer trust) tells us there are approximately 495.400 Firearms*** in America.  Owned by more than 100,000,000 citizens.  

With me so far?  Okay.

     -  So then, there are 40% more firearms in 'Murica than there are automobiles, even though the number of cars and guns are about equal.  

     -  Therefore, seems to me that you're 40% more likely to die in a flaming car wreck than being gunned down by some crazed gangbanger!

Howevvvvver, if you subtract the firearm deaths occurring regularly in Chicago, and Baltimore, and New Yawk City, and Portland, Seattle and Lost Angeles, and all the other Big Blue Cities, like New Orleans, and San Francisco and Philadelphia, where dying by gunfire is as regular as rain, then America becomes the safest Country on Earth!   

Because about one-third of us are armed.  And considered dangerous.  And they, the gun-grabbers, don't know which of us are in that dratted one-third column.  But they're doing everything they can to find out.  

Pluuuuuuuusss, a car can weigh several tons!  A bullet?  Less than an ounce.  Think of it this way:  Would you rather get run over by a charging, 2,500 pound Cape Buffalo, who thinks you wrote him a bad check, or ventilated by a small chunk of lead, weighing less than one-tenth of an ounce?

That's about it, folks.  My mathmatical comparison is now complete, and all those Brady Bunch and Moms Demand Yada Yada can put it where the sun don't shine.  

NRA, you know where to send the check...  

So you now know that cars are statistically far more dangerous than guns, unless you live in Chicago.  Or those other dens of iniquity I mentioned up above.  

Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.  No applause, please...  

*      Doncha' just love folks who talk about themselves in the third person?

**     Could somebody tell me why the CDC, those folks that seem to think we should all be wearing masks, is in charge of tracking our firearm deaths?  Are bullets diseases?  Or do they just consider them so?

***   That same F B of I tells us there were 150,000,000 firearms in America the day B. Hussein Obama was immaculated.  Just imagine: Obama scared the Electorate so much that, in a short 15 years, he was able to triple - TRIPLE - our gun ownership.  That's why he's been called the Greatest Gun Salesman of All TIme...

I Came From That Small Town...

Jason Aldean wrote his new hit song about my home town.

And the Looney Left is doing its best to "cancel" "Try That in a Small Town."

Because it showcases the crimes perpetrated against America during the riots.  The REAL riots that occurred in all 50 of our Biggest Bluest Cities.  Using real, honest videotape, taken during the summer of 2019.  That was when Black Lives Matter and Antifa did over $2 Billion Dollars in damage, killed 13 cops and wounded more than 350 citizens.  They burned down liquor stores, and car dealerships, and court houses.  

Court houses, fergodssake! 

While ABC/CBS/NBC/PBS/NPR and every other Left-Wing Corporate Media operation did everything in their power to ignore the problem.  Nothing to see here, please move along.  

Cities burning, people hurting, them ignoring.  What else is new?

You probably heard about that, because you're a fellow Patriot.  That's likely because you're a consumer of news from reliable sources.  However, at least half our population aren't, because their chosen sources for news chose not to report it.  They turned their heads.  Because it was "inconvenient" to their preferred presidential candidate.   

Who was lounging in his basement at the time, as I recall. 

If a supposed "riot" happened at the Capitol Building on January 6th and nobody was hurt,* and the building wasn't burned down, like that proverbial tree in the forest, did that "riot" really happen?

I'll leave that for you to decide.

But back to Aldean.  He puts out this song that puts out a message:  don't pull that riot crap in small towns, or you'll get hurt.  Badly.  Don't think that you can do the same stuff in Chillicothe, Missouri that you do in Philadelphia, or Portland, or Lost Angeles.  Because the folks in Chillicothe will make you wish you hadn't...

I know whereof I speak.  I'm from Chillicothe, Missouri.  A town of 9,800 hearty souls, who work hard for a living, believe their word is their bond, and would walk over broken glass for a friend or neighbor.

I've been extolling the virtues of small town values since I started writing this blog.  More than 15 years now.  More than 1,600 postings, so far.  And every one is based upon how growing up in a small, upper Midwest farming community impacted my life.  And helped shape me into who I am.  Even though I now live in the middle of millions of folks, some 1,700 miles away, I conduct myself as if I were back home.  

In Chillicothe.

I come from a town where nobody locked their doors.  There was no need.  Nobody would think to try and break in, as doing so would result in you being ventilated.  With extreme predudice.  As in, everybody back home is armed.  And considered dangerous.  Even to the point of perhaps hoping somebody would break our code, so we could help "educate" them back to the straight and narrow.  

Even if it meant a stay at the local hospital.  Which is good for business, right?

It was a late summer, as I recall.  The starlings had decided to infest our Livngston County Court House.  Which was located smack in the middle of Chillicothe.  Starlings have been called the rats of the bird world.  I'd sure agree with that.  They were pooping all over the Court House and the cars parked around it,  So much so the Mayor invited the City's residents to stop by one Saturday afternoon, and be sure to bring your shotgun, and please remove our starlings.  

With extreme prejudice.

There was only caveat; use only No. 7 or 8 bird shot so as not to blow out the Courthouse windows.

Can I tell you it was a freakin' riot!  The good kind!  For an hour we blasted away.  Some 70 or 80 of us.  The smoke from the shotgun blasts hung heavy in the cool, early evening air.  They were passing out coffee and doughnuts.

Could you see something like that happening in Baltimore?  Or Chicago?  Or New York City?

Oh yeah, maybe it does.  Except with bullets instead of bird shot.

So I brought Chillicothe with me when I moved to California.  I couldn't have done otherwise.  It's so ingrained in me that there's no way I could do otherwise.  So yes, I believe in all the things I believed in when I was home.  I have an arsenal of firearms and a boxcar load of ammunition.  And woe be to him/her/it/they who choose to violate my privacy.

Just like in Chillcothe, I would open anybody up like a can of tuna who violates my privacy, my safety, or my security.  Or of my family.  Or friends.  Or  anyone anywhere near me.  I think I'll go download that song now.

Have a nice day...

*    No one was killed during the Jan 6th uprising.  Several were hurt, but no one died.  Despite what our feckless Mumbler-in-Chief or the Corporate Media tells you.  Over and over and over...

"American-Africans"

It would go a long, long way toward convincing Americans who didn't own slaves, that they should cough up some reparations money to the benefit of those who were never enslaved, if those folks would maybe change their "official" names.  From "African-American," to perhaps...

"American-African."

From "Puero Rican-American" to "American-Puerto Rican."  From "Mexican American" to "American Mexican."  From "Insert your favorite country here," to, well, you get the picture.

Just my opinion, fellow Patriots, and God knows, I've got lots of them. 

And that quest for reparations has gained quite a bit of speed of late.  The people up there in San Franpoopco are Hell-bent on giving away the farm, the one they don't own, to anyone who might possibly identify as Black.*  In fact, they've just published their more than 1,000 page** report on why they think Black folks should receive not less than $1,200,000.  Each.  Plus a whole gob of other freebies.  Like no mortgage payments and free college and loans without paybacks.  

Why are they doing this?  Perhaps because the Democrats fear they're losing the Black Voting Bloc (they are), and the Republicans are trying their damndest to woo them away (they are).  For the first time, like ever.  After all, if the Democrats ever receive anything less than 80% of the Black vote in a General Election (they never have), it would be a political earthquake.

And they know it.

So I have this question that's been eating at me for decades: if our Black folks are Americans, true Americans, why don't they choose to advertise it?  Proudly!  Unlike "American Indians" (more commonly known these days as 'Indigeneous Personages,') our Black population chooses to go by "African-American," as opposed to "American-African."  Whasssamatta?  You like Africa more than you like America?  And yet you want us to give you reparations?  

 Has Africa ponyied up any cash lately?

Don't they know that Black people enslaved Black people more than White people ever did?  There's a historic fort on the Ivory Coast where Blacks auctioned Blacks to other Blacks for more than 200 years before the first White slaver ever got in the game.  

Did you know that?  Do other Americans know that?  Would it change opinions if it were known that Blacks enslaved Blacks for centuries before Whites ever did?

So I've got this question:  Why not "American-Africans?"

I'm willing to forego any reparations due me for 620,000 White soldiers who bit the dust in the Civil War, including a great, great, great uncle of mine, freeing those now "African-Americans."  Didn't their death warrant, at the very least, that we designate the "American" before "African?"  A country which has given them nothing?

Am I the first dude to ever think of this?

In fact, I hereby make the motion that, henceforth, all minorities here in the United States of America which wish to dip their beaks into our famous social welfare system, make sure that their offical names start with "American-."  

My feelings are hurt.  How about yours?

*    The SFO reperations deal requires only that all applicants "identify" as Black.  Not "BE" Black, just identify as such.  BTW, I've identified as both Black and gay, and also a Gypsy, for years.  And I'd happily adopt transgenderism for a few $Million Bucks, if that's a requirement.  When does that check arrive, again?

**   1,000 pages?  How could it possibly take that many pages to say I'm Black and I'm pissed and I need some of your money, right now?    

Our Brother's Keeper...

It was reported by the Department of Homeland Security, perhaps our most inaptly named Federal Agency, that 151,552 folks are living outdoors and on the streets of California.

They say that's fully 30% of all our entire Nation's homeless population.  A third of the entire United States' supply of homeless is right here in California, enjoying our beautiful beaches and wonderful weather.  While they're sucking up benefits from our Federal contractors, the so-called "NGO's," whom we pay $Hundreds of Millions to care and feed them.

That stands for "Non-Governmental Organization," BTW.  And we hire them to give illegal aliens the stuff they want but we cannot legally provide directly.  Like free cell phones.  And free plane and train and bus rides.  And free food and clothing.  And a free place to stay when they get where they're going. 

Did you know that? 

Like the ROW Hotel in Times Square, Manhattan, New York City.  At more than $200 a night, for each of the more than 1,900, staying at just this hotel alone.  It will cost the City of New York more than $4.3 Billion Dollars just this year alone.  Caring for and feeding the aliens for whom they've declared themselves a sanctuary.  All that TAX money could have gone to the needs of NYC's citizens.  Instead, it's going to the needs of those from Venezuela, and Guatemala, and El Salvador.  

You read that right.  This IS Bizzarro World.

But now to the good stuff.

According to the Veterans Administration, there are 31,442 veterans of U. S. military service living on the streets of California.  31,442.  People who fought for us, and may in fact be disabled as a result of that service.  

31,442.

Have you heard of a bunch of NGO's scrambling to get into line for all the money the Feds are handing out to take care of vets?  You know, all those free flights to anywhere and free cell phones and free hotel rooms and free food and free clothing?  

You haven't, because they aren't.  

And because they aren't, you now know where our elected representatives' focus really is; on the illegals.  Their (hoped for) future voters.

Get your arms around that.  

And since California is primarily reponsible for resolving our veteran homeless crisis, and it isn't, then ask yourself this:  Did you know that 47 of California's 53 counties are owned and controlled by Democrats?  That the Democrats have supermajorities in both Houses of our Legislature?  That they can, and do, pass anything they wish?  Some of the dumbest laws to ever see the light of day?  

And they have proved by their actions - and inactions - that they don't give a good God damn about our veterans.  

Did you know that our Boy Guv could open up our armories across the State, enabling our homeless vets to have an indoor place to sleep?  

Did you know that our Boy Guv could simply wave his manicured hand and open up our State fair grounds and stock yards and State-owned pavillions, providing our vets with a place to lay their heads?  

There are no doubt thousands of State-owned buildings that could easily house a few of our out-of-luck veterans.  Am I the only one who's ever thought of this?  

Now then, I've provided the itch, it's up to you to scratch it...

LGBTQYADAYADA+++

Gimme' an L!                                  "L"

Gimme' a G!                                                   "G"

Gimme' some B!                                  "B"

Gimme' a T!                  "T"

Gimme' a Q!                                                        "Q"

And then, fellow Pilgrim, under cover of darkness, these disaffected minorities all got together in an effort to command a larger stage upon which to air their frequent bitches.  

Like the AFL-CIO did back in the '50's, uniting a bunch of itty bitty auto unions into a nationwide political powerhouse.  And, considering our shameful Corporate Media reports only on those things that support their own Leftist ideologies, or those of their socialist masters in D.C., they all discovered at the same exact time that "LGBTQYADAYADA" gathers Leftist eyeballs!  And Leftist eyeballs sell advertising time!  And they've been banging that drum over and over until our "normal" population is beginning to puke!   

And by "normal," I mean the 97% of our population who are not considered to be "abnormal."  

So thereafter it became, Gimme' an LGBTQYADAYADA+++!   

                              "YEAH!!!"

And since then you and I, us, "The People," the U. S.'s  ordinary hard-working, God-fearing, hot dog-eating, Chevy'driving, non-Bud Light-swilling 'Muricans, have had to put up with a never-ceasing torrent of Corporate Media-driven horsepucky in an effort to try and make us buy this crap, which we don't, I hereby offer up this simple message on behalf of moi and every other Right-thinking American in America:*  

                            "STOP   IT!"

It isn't working, and you're pissing us off.  And one of these days there's going to be a price to pay for all this nonsense.  And trust me, you don't want to pay it...

*   Long sentence.  I know, I know.  Ms. Wall, my English teacher at CHS, would be livid.  But I've forgotten how to do otherwise.  RIP, Virginia...

Hating On America...

I awakened on the morning of the 4th of July to breaking news on the telly.  It reported that only 27% of our citizens now consider themselves "extremely patiotic."

And only another 24% consider themselves "patriotic."  Meaning nearly half of us don't like America.  I am both shocked and pissed.

These numbers are down from 74% and 12%, respectively, a decade ago!  What has changed?  Or perhaps rather, what previously buried reality has now surfaced?

You can count me in that "extrememly patriotic" category, fellow Pilgrim, and I'm guessing you are as well.  So how the Hell did we go from flag-waving patriotism to hating on America?  

Here's my thoughts on the matter...

I had to be taught to be patriotic.  I wasn't born with it.  I learned it from my parents, of course.  They were very patriotic.  But I also learned it in school.  Starting in the 1st grade.  I was taught by a succession of my teachers how America was founded.  And by whom.  And exactly who our Founding Fathers were.  And what sorts of risks they faced in order to break from England and lead the rebellion.  And how many of them died fighting the Revolutionary War (21,134).  

And we learned about how we got our National Anthem.  And also the Pledge of Allegiance, and why we stood and repeated it with our hands over our hearts, facing the Flag.

Before the start of every school day.  Every.  Single.  One.    

We learned about Abe Lincoln, our 16th President.  And how he freed the slaves via the Emancipation Proclamation.  

We learned that we lost more than 620,000 of our almost all-White Northern soliders freeing those slaves.  White soldiers.  Fighting and dying to free Black slaves.

Could someone please tell me when OUR reparations begin?  

And we learned how we lost another 56,000 in World War 1, that "War to end all wars."  

Ahem.

And we lost 320,000 in World War 2, fighting both East and West in the Axis Powers.  More than 55% of our entire Gross National Product was invested in winning that contest.  A win-at-all-costs fight for freedom (had we not won we'd all be speaking German).  

At one point Ford Motor Co. Detroit plant was producing a turn-key, ready-to-fly B-17 Liberator bomber every hour!   

And we lost 32,500 in the Korean "Military Action,"* and another 55,000 in the Vietnam "conflict," and thousands more in Iraq and Afghanistan and all over the world.   

We've fought 118 wars and many, many more skirmishes, and conflicts, and military actions in order to purchase, and then defend our freedoms.  Do those who now hate on America know that?  Do they care?  Has anyone bothered to ask them?  Has anyone bothered to tell them?  

I'd bet not. 

These men and women I've outlined fought and died to protect our way of life.  Are the teachers in our schools teaching that?  Are they teaching patriotism?  Or are they teaching their pupils that America is racist, and mysoginistic, and homophobic, and every other negative stereotype one can imagine?  Are they spending more time on gender reassignment and pronoun selection than on the tools they'll to compete in an every more competitive world.  Our kids had to learn it somewhere, or NOT learn it somewhere, and I think it's a big part of the teachers job to make it happen.*  

They are not making it happen.

I've done a bit of research on the subject and I can tell you that 55% of every dollar collected in property taxes in every one of the 3,007 counties in America is earmarked for education.  More Than Half!  Should we put civilian parent "minders" in our younger grades to make sure our history is being taught?  To make sure than "Rainbow" flag comes down and our American Flag goes up?  I'd be willing to volunteer some of my quality time to oversee such a project.  Would you?

I'm pretty sure the search for a quality education for their kids is a very big part of why so many are leaving New York and California** and Illinois and New Jersey for Texas and Florida and South Carolina.    

Are we getting our money's worth from our proterty tax dollar?  Do we get a moneyback guarantee?  

Should we? 

*   Three of my daughters are teachers.  In areas where freedom is permitted to reign.  They are not a part of this problem. 

**  More than 800,000 folks chose to up and move from California since 2021.  And they're the ones who could afford to do so.  That means they took their six-figure incomes and their tax bases with them.  Boy Guv is going to have to think up some really good excuses...

The 7% "Solution?"

Do you own a plug-in electric (PIE) car?  Are you contemplating the purchase of one?

Like some 31% of the population, up from 27% in 2022?

The 31% of the population which lives in urban or suburban areas, no doubt?

If so, fellow non-Pilgrim (Pilgrims know better), I'm here to assist you away from that decision.  

Politely.

     -  Let's start with the fact that PIE's need about 2,000 pounds of battery in order to function.  Think about that.  A TON of battery!  And you'd be sitting atop it.  Sort of like waiting for the match to be lit.

     -  Smaller cars use slightly smaller batteries (60kW avg.), and larger varieties need even bigger ones (100+ kW avg).  The GMC Hummer'ss battery, as an example, weighs in at 3,336 pounds!  In other words, this beast's battery weighs more than a Volkswagon!

Oh yeah, the Hummer weighs in at a portly 8,985 lbs.  Ahem.

Annnnnd, it goes out the door at a lofty $123,000.  Gulp!

     -  It takes more than one and one-half tons of rare earth minerals, scooped out the ground using a D-9 Caterpillar, with Mother Earth crying big tears, in order to manufacture those batteries.  Which scars the heck out of Mom Earth.  And the majority of rare Earth minerals reside in China.  We've got some as well, yet the O'Biden Administration has, for some unknown reason, outlawed the mining of these minerals on our very own Gubmint-owned land!  While the Chinese have mandated no more of their dirt can come our way.  

So the O'Biden folks are mandating we buy these wonder wagons, yet make their manufacture expensive and complicated.  I wonder how much THAT policy decision enriched Biden Inc.?  

     -  Now let's talk charging.  You have to install a home charging station if you own one of these things.  That's about $3,000.  And then your electric bill goes through the roof.  And as we know, here in Taxifornia they're getting ready to charge us more if we're White.  Not sure about that one.  But probably.  And they're actually considering charging us on the basis of our annual income.  We make more, we pay more.  For the same amount of therms.  

Socialism, much?

     -  But what if we charge at work, Mr. Knowitall?  Here in Taxifornia we've reached "parity."  That means it costs about $0.35 cents per kW to charge up at peak periods, which equates to about $4.50 per gallon.  We're paying more than that now here for gas, with an average of $4.89.  They don't report that fact in the Corporate Media, now do they?  They'd like us all to believe that gas is now $3.50 a gallon, now wouldn't they?  

     -  Driving a PIE is like maneuving a three-alarm fire through traffic.  For PIE's spontaneously combust at an alarming rate!  Hardly a day goes by without a video appearing on social media documenting the blaze.  The only thing you don't know, is when.  Would tend to tighten the old bung hole, now wouldn't it?

     -  PIE's cost just about half-again more than our normal, usual ICE-operated vehicles.  Our average internal combustion engine auto sold for $41,433 last month.  PIE's listed at $62,333 on average.  

     -  What do you get for all that extra money?  Well, let's start with the fact that today's ICE cars contain 33,455 parts on average.  PIE's contain...ready for it?...1,325.  So, 3% of the parts, but almost twice the price.  Wha...?

     -  Now let's talk a bit about range.  That's the anxiety you'll develop when you contemplate the purchase of a PIE.  Range.  How far can that sucker go before you need to find a chargerthingie.  Some of these PIE's go 200 miles without charging.  Some go 300.  Few go farther. 

Oh yeah, ICE-powered vehicles can routinely travel 500 miles or more without a fillup.  Gag on that, Tesla-boy! 

If you own an ICE auto, you don't think about range.  You wonder how far it is to the next gas station.  As it's always  been.  And shall always be.

     -  Here's something I worry about.  I think the Feds are doing everything they can to micromanage our puny little lives.  And they want to make it tougher for us to just up and go someplace or other.  And if we do, they want it to be on a subway.  Or a bus.  Or, in an electric friggin' car they can control when and how we charge.  And when and where we go.  If you buy one of these things, just remember they can turn off its "switch" any time they wish.

     -  So why do they cost so much?  Did you know that the "battery" is not a battery, but rather a whole  bunch of little batteries, all linked together in series?  All the PIE manufacuters save Tesla use Panasonic's reghargeables which you can buy today, right now, for $7.89 each on Amazon.  Yet, if you link thousands of these buggers together, all in series, like carmakers do, you've got a "battery."  Just multiphy $7.89 x about 4,800 and you know part of what it costs to make an electric car.  

     -  Consumer Reports just stated it will take someone driving 15,000 miles a year more then ten years to break even on the difference in price between new PIE's over ICE's.  Drive less?  It will take proportionately longer.  You do the math.

     -  Ever wonder about the trade-in value of these growed-up golf carts?  Yeah, we all do.  They're so new nobody knows.  It's sort of a crapshoot.  The price seems to be based on remaining battery life, which is hard to judge.  You buys one, you takes your chances on resale.  Good luck.

     -  What happens if you need a new battery?  To be fair, today's batteries seem able to withstand a number of charge-recharge cycles to equal the normal car's expected lifecycle (150,000).  Buuuut, with higher mileage, or if the car comes from either very cold of very hot climes, you'll need to pay attention.  

A new Tesla battery, for instance, will set you back more than $20,000!  And if you live in cold or hot locales, you'll lose a third of its range, which will make it much more costly to operate, and a third of its lifespan, which will likely lower its resale value significantly. 

     -  Those who own PIE's worry about range, access to chargers, time to charge, price premium and hot/cold weather performance.  

Those who own ICE autos worry only about only onw thing:  the location of the next gas station. 

     -  Just my personal preference here:  Tesla has manufactured 1,700,000 cars, so far.  And every one of them looks just about the same as the last one.  Quite pretty, from some angles, yet too much of a good thing...is too much.  You even have to pay them $Thousands extra for colors other than white!  If I were a doctor or a lawyer or CEO trying to impress my neighbors with my willingness to spend a bundle of discretionary cash to save the planet, I'd at least like them to look just a little bit different, one from the other, wouldn't you?  

And folks agree with me, otherwise car companies wouldn't do sheetmetal updates every so often.  So, isn't Tesla winding up being more or less the same, while they're trying their best to be different?

     -  Haven't heard yet about roving gangs mugging PIE owners as they try to charge up in some dark location, late at night.  I hope I'm not giving them any ideas.

     -  NOTE:  I'm NOT reviewing combo gas/electric cars like the Honda Prius.  They actually use gas to generate the electricity they run on.  And they've sold waaay over a million of them.  Not bad, Honda.  But NOT a PIE...

     -  And lastly, there are 145,000 gas stations in America.  126,877 of these are also convenience stores, where you can get some snacks and a Coke.  That number of gas stations is sufficient to fuel America's PIE fleet of more than 20,000,000 automobiles.  Have you ever asked yourself how many of those handy dandy electric charging dealibobs out behind the local Costco it would take to charge up a fleet of electric cars?  Big enough to replace our current ICE-powered fleet?  Well, fellow Patriot, I have.  And that's what you pay me for, right?

And after a whole lot of digging, ready for it America?  

READY?

                   33,000,000!!!

Yes, you read that correctly.  33,000,000.  What do you think the chances are that there will be anywhere near that number within the next century?  And do you think they'll be on the plains of Nebraska?  Where other Americans live?  How about in West Texas?  Or perhaps South Dakota?  Yet this number was buried way down in a multi-hundred page report from the Department of Transportation, managed by America's most famous gay ex-mayor ("What, me Worry?"), dumped on our figurative doorstep at 5:00 p.m. on July 3rd.  The night before a lonnng holiday weekend.

Surprise!

And just in case you were wondering (I was), there are 141,580,000 homes in America.  So, just put a charging thingie in the front yard of every fifth home in the United States and we've got it covered!

Are they all smoking crack?

My analysis:  If you live on or near either coast, one of these as a second car makes some sense.  But if you live anywhere else, no way.  And as a primary vehicle, no way.  

     -  And last but far from least, only 7% of our new cars sold ion Q1 of 2023 were PIE's.  SEVEN FRIGGIN' PERCENT!  Yet, every ad you see on the Telly features electric cars.  Could it be that they're that profitable?  And if so, should you not keep your hand on your wallet?

I've only studied automobiles my entire life.  I actually have the cubic inch displacement and horsepower ratings of every car made between 1955 and 1985 committed to memory.  I used to race both AHRA and SCCA semi-professionally.  And you can either take my advice, or join in with the herd.  And remember, the slower members of the herd get eaten by lions.  

Or lose their asses on high-priced toys when America comes to its senses...

Product Pricing 101.

I was speaking with my bizz-owning daughter the other day about product pricing.  She's a marketing whiz and comes by it naturally.  And I was a marketing whiz, if I do say so myself, and am alway happy to help.  Following the call I got to thinking about a time way back in 1956 when I learned all I ever needed to know about product pricing.  And for a marketing and sales executive-to-be, that was a valuable lesson which I carried with me on through life.  Please let me share it with you and see if you don't agree...  

I've been wearing glasses since I was two years old.  In fact, my Mom told me they were made of pink plastic.  She also said I made a habit of burying them in my sandbox.  So it was usual for her to take me to the optometrist for my annual Rx update.  And the trip we took one day when I was 13 served as the basis for this story from my storied past...

I come from a little town called Chillicothe, Missouri.  It's 100-plus years in age is but right uptown in terms of marketing savvy.  In fact, sliced bread was invented there back in 1925.  It's true.  I'll be writing about that one day soon.  And my glasses doctor proved it when my Mom asked him, Bob Smith we'll call him (I'll grant him anonymity in case any of his family still lives there), how much my new glasses were going to cost.

"$13.00, Mrs. Cassity," Mr. Smith said.  When my Mom didn't say anything, Smith said, "For the lenses."  Mom was a bit stunned, I think, so she didn't comment.  Smith then said, 

"Each."  

I watched this repartee from about three feet away.  The magnitude of it all didn't really hit me at the time, but I was still glued to the back-and-forth.  Mom's breath finally returned to her body and she started to say something, Smith spoke first, again:  "Frames extra."

And there you have it, fellow Pilgrim!  A Master Class in how to pull a screw job up close and personal.  This guy was a first rate scam artist, and I made myself a promise that one day I'd get into his pocket.  Deep.  

And one day I did...

My buddies and I were shooting 9-ball at the bowling alley.  It featured 6 nice Brunswick pool tables and there was a $Money game there to be had on any given night.  And on one of those nights 7 or 8 of us were playing quarter-quarter nine-ball.  That's where we shoot the nine balls off the table in rotation.  The guy who pockets the #5 collects a quarter from each of the other players.  And the guy who makes the #9 does the same.  

Sounds pretty low rent, right?   Do the math: you "run the table" and the 7 other players owe you $0.50 each.  That's a quick $3.50.  As in, about 5 minutes quick.  And we're talking 60 years ago.  When $0.75 a hour was the minimum wage.

So you play that penny-ante nine-ball game for say, 7 or 8 hours, and your pockets are bulging.  And in the middle of all this, our Mr. Smith shows up.  We'd heard this cat thought he could play, and now we'd all find out.  As for me, I knew my ship had finally come in.  

The day I'd waited for had finally arrived.

I should mention about here that I'd started playing pool at the age of 13, and by the time I was 16, I was the best I had ever seen.  And anyone else I knew had seen, also.  I was a phenom, as they say.  No brag, just fact.  That made it hard for me to get a game with anybody for high stakes.  Quarters back and forth across the green baize was about it.  But I was always looking for higher stakes, and always looking for a fish.  Just like Smith was looking for the day he pencil-whipped my Mom over a new pair of glasses.  And tonite would deliver me both.

The $Quarter-Quarter nine ball stakes we started with at 8:00 p.m. quickly morphed into $Dollar-Two Dollar by about 11:00, and then $Five Dollar-Ten Dollar by 1:00.  And then by 3:00 in the morning, there was nobody left in our game but Smith and me.  

Just the way I had always wanted it.  Time to turn the screws.

The stakes were soon $20.00 on each of the 5 and the 9.  Remember, that's back when you could buy a brand-new Chevrolet for $2,500.  So deep into the night I had about $2,800 of Bob's money.  And he was sweating bullets.  And the crowd that had gathered to watch the carnage were hooting and hollering as each ball fell.  As he began to straighten up from one too-many beers he realized that he'd screwed the pooch.  As in, lost all his cash.  As in, please God, don't tell my wife.  

Remember, everybody knew everybody in this town of 10,000, so keeping secrets was impossible.  A whole bunch of cash, it was.  A lot more cash than he could reasonably afford to lose.  A lot more cash than anyone had ever heard about anyone losing in this neck of the woods.  And I was inwardly laughing my ass off.  

In technicolor.

So hoping to get back his cash, Bob pulls a Major League boner.  I had him cornered.  He offers up the pink slip to his two year-old, 1959 Oldsmobile Delta 88, 4-door sedan, two-tone blue, it was, against the cash he'd just lost.  A $3,000 car, when new, against $2,800 cash.  In essense, double or nothing.  If it sounds pretty dicey today, just think: this was 62 years ago, when $3k equalled about $30k today.  And I was only 18 years old.  

Well, as you'd expect, I peeled Bob like a grape.  I not only took all Bob's cash, I took his car.  I did give him a ride home, though.  It was a bright and shiny morning, about 6:30, when I dropped him off in front of his house.*  I'm just that kind of guy...

It was later that morning that I dumped all the cash on our breakfast table for my Mom and Dad to see.  They were dumbfounded!  My Dad smiled like a Cheshire cat, having been a pool hustler in his earlier years.  Chip off the old block, and all that.  He actually told my Mom, "See, I told you he'd be okay!"  

My Mom?  I gave her $2,500 to cover most of my college expenses.  I also gave her a crisp $100 bill and told her to buy herself a new dress.  Courtesy of Bob Smith.  The optometrist.  

I then sold the Olds and turned the cash into a brand-new, 1962 Chevrolet Impala SuperSport, 409 cubic inch, 409 horsepower, honduras maroon,  black bucket seats, 4-speed, 3:70 positraction.  While the Beach Boys song was on the charts.

I rode this success for several years.  I don't recall ever having to justify myself to my parents after that.  I'd go off on educational tours all over MO, IL, IA, KS and AR.  By "educational," I mean I educated them.  Sort of a different take on hustling.  With me, a college student/pool hustler, I'd call that a Major Victory, wouldn't you?

And oh yeah, I became a marketeer in later life, trusted by a succession of companies to price and brand their products and services.  I doubt they'd have ever believed where my expertise actually came from...

When is Heterosexual Pride Month Again?

I was so proud that June was "Pride Month!"  

Proud.  

Damned proud!

Wait...  What are we supposed to be proud about again?  Oh yeah, gays and transgenders in our society.  Proud of them.  Proud that they're gay?  Or proud that they've publicly admitted to being gay?  

Are they gay?  Or do they just have a closet full of stolen womens' clothes, like that dipsh*t O'Biden had in charge of our nuclear power stations?    

Or is it that they're proud of themselves?  I don't know.  And I'd LIKE to know, considering that this subject seems to command so much of our attention.  As in, all day, every day.  Piled on until I'm ready to puke.  

But whatever it is, I'm sure as Hell proud...

When is Heterosexual Pride Month again?  Is that now, in July?  Or is it in August?  Or another month yet to be named?  After we've celebrated Little People Month?  And Vilitigo Sufferers' Month?  And perhaps Gypsy Roma Appreciation Month?  

Or does LGBTQIRSNRAASPCA+++ "Pride Month" go on every month?  Stuffing it down our collective throats?  Whether we like it or not?  

As I've opined on many other previous occasions, we seem to be running our once-Great Country for our minorities.  For those who have no majority.  Not even a plurality.  Which is how we used to determine what our citizens wanted from their Government.  Majority dictates.  Majority controls.  Majority is in charge. 

Always. 

Except.........  If we're talking about LGBTQABCDEFG++++ issues.  Then apparently a tiny minority, in a coalition of other tiny minorities, all glued together to produce a slightly larger tiny minority, which apparently is all that's needed for the tail to wag the dog in our so-called "MainStreamMedia" these days.    

So, I hereby declare all the other months besides June as "Heterosexual Pride Month."   

I never used to think being "hetero" was something to be proud about.  Because I was born that way.  Just, as we're told, over and over and over, the "Alphabet" folks were born their particular way.  If so, great.  So then, I guess I can now be "proud" about someting I had nothing to do with, too.  Like being born White, I guess.  Or Black, should that be the case.  Or Yellow or Red.  Or best yet, a mixture of all four!  

Is this really productive?  Shouldn't we be talking about something else?  Something that could make the turnstyle turn?  Something that house the homeless or feed the hungry or clothe the naked?      

Yawn...

Now then, our sexual appetites and expressions are more or less baked in at our time of birth, no matter how hard we try to suppress them.  But since that "tail" I spoke about above has decided we should all make our sexual proclivities public, I suggest we come up with Pride Months to celebrate our "Hearing."  And maybe our "Eyesight."  And perhaps even our sense of "Taste."  

And just like we all go out and drink a margarita on Cinco de Mayo, I suggest we all go out and get laid to the heterosexual partner of our choice, at least once, in support of our very own "Pride Month."

And then maybe brag about it on FaceBook and Instagram and Linkedin and Twitter and Truth and all the other media platforms.  Be "proud" about your entirely normal sexual preferences, Mr. and Mrs. and "Other" America!  Be Proud!

There's only one problem that I can see, fellow Pilgrim, 'cause I'm in Taxifornia.  And in Taxifornia there are 57 genders.  Or so they tell us.  Now then: how are you supposed to know which of the 57 genders that cute babe at the end of the bar has chosen to identifies as, before you ask her if she'd like a drink? 

Just Put on a Dress!

The professionals in clinical psychology tell us that just about 3% of all our citizens are gender dysphoric.  That means they're not happy with who they are, sexually speaking, but are not quite sure who they want to be.  But dressing as the opposite sex is a good start.

But the Department of Health and Human Services tells us, however, that fully 8% of our population self-identify as transgender.  Hmmm.  

Now that's a problem, fellow Pilgrim.  The differerence between 3% of our population and 8%, is  just about 18 million people.  18 million people in a dress.  18 million "men" showering in girls' bathrooms.  18 million competing in collegiate Title IX competition.  Gutting both the spirit and the intent of womens' sports.  

So we can't keep folks who aren't gay from pretending to be gay.  Or trangender.  So what do we do to get back some of the control over our lives that we've so surely lost, fellow Pilgrim?  Simple.

                         Put on a dress!

Can you imagine what would happen if about 100 million of us were to put on our wives' dresses and headed on off to the office next Monday morning?  Pretending to be transgender, or rather, "identifying" as transgender?  Adding ourselves to the ranks of those 18 million fakers?  You know, like that squatty, 250' dude in a female admiral's outfit and skirt and stands behind O'Biden with a broad smile, looking like a complete and total idiot?    

I'll bet that guy's last job was running a Baskin-Robbins.

Like this plan?  I've got others.  How about we all change our voting registration to Democrat?  Would they go nuts, or what?  If there were no Republicans, then they wouldn't know how to cheat!  They wouldn't know which tombstones' votes to count!  They wouldn't know who to ask for money!  They wouldn't know where to send an extra 4,000 mail-in votes!  

But in the meantime, just think how much freedom of movement the Family Jewels would finally gain if you would simply don that dress.  In fact, how about if The Don were to don a dress?  The Lamestream Media could no longer say nasty things about Trump because he'd be identifying as transgender, and they are foresworn to never, ever say a bad thing about all those LGBTQ+++++++++++ folks.  

Sorry, my mind works just this way.  I know, I know.  I'll get some help one of these days...   

Could You Start a Fire Without a Match?

If for some strange reason you found yourself in a desperate situation, all alone, in the woods, lost.  And maybe wounded.  Or perhaps there's a flood.  Or maybe you were in a plane crash and you're the only survivor.  Or there's just a few of you and it's up to you to protect and save them.  And you've got to stay alive and somehow find your way out of this predicament.  One you've never faced before.  

Could you?  

Could you build a lean-to (look it up) for shelter if you had to?  Do you have a servicible knife for self-protection?  Could you start a fire without a lighter or matches?  Do you know how to catch enough food to survive in the wild?    

And why do I ask?

A friend who came from a different upbringing then the one I enjoyed asked me the other day why I'm so strident about individual rights and the Bill of Rights and being prepared for any eventuality, no matter what.  I thought for a moment, and answered in the following way...

I was born and raised in the Upper Midwest, in the midst of the Big War.  A place where nearly everyone was armed and there was zero crime.

Or, perhaps it could be said there was zero crime 'cause everyone was(is) armed.  You might have to think about that one for a bit...

But what I do know is that nearly every boy, and most all girls, joined Scouting as early as possible and stayed with it for years.  Because it helped them to learn to how to live life.  In the real world.  Stuff you don't learn without being taught, so cannot therefore teach it to others.  And that's why I joined the Cub Scouts the day after I turned eight.  You had to be eight to join, and I could wait no longer.

I knew I wanted to become a Scout because I loved hunting and fishing and camping with my dad.  So I was a natural for Scouting.  Like all my friends.  Like nearly everyone I knew.

So much so that I accumulated all the necessary Wolf, Bear and Lion achievement badges, enabling me to move from Cub into Webelos ranks*  That's the half-way stage between a Cub and a Boy Scout.

You can't become a Boy Scout until you're ten years old.  And I became one the day after I turned 10.  And then began traveling up through the ranks.  From Scout through Tenderfoot, Second-Class, First-Class, Star, then Life, and on up to Eagle.  Fewer than 5% of all Boy Scouts ever achieve the rank of Eagle, BTW.**  I was awarded my Eagle Scout Badge on my 17th birthday.  A rather remarkable feet, BTW.  

Oh yeah, Boy Scouts earn merit badges for displaying mastery over various subjects.  Such as camping, fire building, fishing and first aid.  Most Scouts wind up earning 5 or 6.  I earned 34. I also qualified for the highly-coveted God and Country Award, with two Oak Leaf Clusters.  Google it if you're interested.

While all this was going on, I was an apprentice gunsmith, starting at the age of 13.  I was under the tutelege of the owner of our local gun store.  I built custom varmint rifles for my mentor's well-healed clients.  They never knew.  I was also a member of two cowboy single-action quick draw clubs, a shotgun trap and skeet club, and an NRA 1,000 yard, Springfield 1903-A3, open-sight .30-'06 competition club.  That's shooting a 120 year-old, bolt-action rifle at a man-sized target 1,000 yards away, without benefit of any scope sight or other optics.  Tough stuff.  

I should also mention I was drafted into the Eeewwnited States Army and out of my professional pool hustlng career (I was ranked one of America's 50 Best by Billiards Digest at the time).  During which I qualified 1st overall on the rifle range, shooting a 998 out of 1,000.  A point total that hasn't been eclipsed to this day, from what I'm told.  Even after more than 50 years.

I was also called upon by Army Intelligence (oxymoron, I know) to qualify for the Ranger Lite Program, featuring a leap off a 61' parachute jump tower (I'm afraid of heights), and a 3-day, 72-hour forced march, carrying a full, 55' rucksack (I'm also afraid of pain).  I then spent nearly 4 years in Europe protecting the world from communism.  And I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.  

Oh yeah, and I was a hunter, taking my share of geese, ducks, squirrels, rabbits and deer. 

I might mention also that in my more than 10 years of Scouting, I never met a "gay" scoutmaster, or one who evidenced any such trait.  I believe ambulance chasers have all but destroyed Scouting.  They should be ashamed of themselves.  And would, were capable of shame...   

I accomplished all of this by the age of 26, then went on to get my degree, found a fine woman and got married, started a company, hired dozens of employees and raised a family.

I relay all of this not to brag, but rather to show what was a normal upbringing in my neck of the woods.  And one I would definitely wish upon others.  What's the normal upbringing in the Big Blue cities these days?  Where more than half our population resides?  Where 73% of the babies are born to single parents?  Where more than half of the homes are single-parent?  Where's there's no male influence?  I had one?  Are we not worse off without it?

Even if you're a CPDLW,*** you can agree that's a better way to go...

I contrast all of this against the upbringing, education, experience and worldview of your average Millenial of Gen X-er wandering around loose on Main Street.  What was their upbringing like?  Did they suffer hardships?  Were they required to pay a price for their citizenship?  Did they wear our uniform?  Do they consider it a burden to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance and our National Anthem?  Do they worry more about "climate whatever" then they do about China and Russia and North Korea and the flood of humanity coursing across our Southern border?  Could they start a fire without a lighter?  What would they do if the "big one" hit?  Are they "prepped" for any circumstance?  Or do they rely on the shrink-wrapped meat counter at the local Albertson's?  Are the men of today "men?"  Real men?  Men who size up a situation and then come up with a solution?  Or are they dumber than a bag of rocks?  And afraid of their own shadows?  In need of "crying rooms."  To cure their "discomfort."  And wear...wait for it..."man buns."  

I was born in the deep dark depths of World War Two.  Times were tough back then, but we were tougher.  And we beat the sh&t out of the evil bastards trying to subjigate the world.  We even did it TWICE!  Could we do the same thing again with the youth of today?   

What do you think?

*    "We Be Loyal Scouts."

**   There are two million of us Eagles here in America.  It will probably be us leading America to the "light" when the balloon goes up. Thank God... 

***  Commie Pinko Dummmmass Liberal Weenies+++  NOTE:  I added the "+'s+ just like the LGBTQ folks did, 'cause I might need to add more pejoratives at a later date.