The "Butterfly Effect'

The "Butterfly Effect:" 

"A theory based upon the idea that we as a society are so deeply interconnected, that a small, seemingly insignificant action in one place can have a major, far-reaching effect somewhere else."

Thus, a butterfly could flap its wings somewhere, and cause a hurricane someplace else.

Today we'll investigate that theory and see if it has merit.  In one situation, specifically...

I'm guessing our BoyGuv "Hairgod" Newsom must have huddled with his minions up there in Sacrataxyou and sweated the enormous $73 Billion Dollar shortfall Taxifornia is facing this year.  Which he ran up.  All by his lonesome.  

We're told he can't even find some $24 Billion Dollars dedicated for use in cleaning up the homeless "crisis."  Maybe he should look between the cushions of his couch.

And so they looked for simple, quick-fix answers to bail him out.  And so one of these shysters up there must have said, "Hey, Guv, we're never gonna' get the votes of the major fast food franchise owners, cause they're Republicans.  They're too smart.  So how about we pick their pockets Big Time?"  

And so BoyGuv, never having had an original thought in his entire privileged life, went along with it.  Without trying to first ferret out all the reasons why it might blow up in their smarmy, micro-abrased faces later on.

It's my opinion they never have such thoughts, as they never have to clean up after themselves.  They have servants we pay to do it for them.

So they rammed through a new law making the Minimum Wage for fast food purveyors a historic $20.00 an hour!  Or just about 30% more than we pay our military enlistees ($31,000 a year).  For saying, "Would you like fries with that," They even get 25% more than Taxifornia's MinWage of $15.20!  And fully 250% of America's MinWage of $7.25!

The "Butterfly" began flapping its wings.

So the damage is done, the New Law is in effect.  And the First Reaction following that Action, is that all the workers in all the other restaurants that are not McDonalds, or Wendy's, or Subways, or Burger King, will demand $20.00 an hour from their current employer!  And if "Millie's Burger Bar," a three-stool diner near the beach, doesn't pony up with that yuuuge pay bump, then Millie's workers will bail.  They'll leave her high and dry!  And she's Out of Business!  And there's a whole bunch of "Millie's" out there!

Such is the beginning of that "Butterfly effect."

And then the owners of those franchises must of course raise their prices to stay in bizz.  And when they do, people will realize that the 'Murican people can no longer afford the very food that was created especially for them!  So they'll stop coming.  And the franchise owners will no longer be able to stay in bizz.  So they'll close the doors and the average of 55 employees in each of those 24-hour restaurants will then lose their jobs.  

There's currently about 500,000 people working in major chain burger joints in Taxifornia.  That number could go down precipitously.  And soon.  

Those wings are flapping.  Furiously.    

And the now defunct bizz can no longer pay their franchise fees to those yuuuuge corporations that franchised them.  The MickeyD's, that BurgerK's, and the Wendy's.  So their stock goes in the toilet and they go out of bizz.  And all the retired people who own their stock will now lose a major portion of their savings.  And the nonexistent future earnings from companies no longer in existence.  

Such is the power of those "butterfly's" wings.

And all the earnings that those retired folks are not now receiving will no longer be spent.  Taking tax dollars not earned out of the State's coffers.

Another far-reaching result of those wings having flapped.

And the hundreds of thousands who work at each of those corporations will lose their jobs.  And go on unemployment.  Putting the once-Great State of California even further in the dumper.  

Those "Butterflies" are working overtime.

And then the SEIU* will begin lobbying for all the other fast-food workers in all the other Big Blue States to demand $20.00 an hour, too.  So all those workers will be forced to join that union, and pay their dues, and start paying Federal Income Taxes, also.  Because those workers will now earn too much to receive rental assistance, food stamps, Aid to Families With Dependent Children and other direct and indirect aid.  Leaving them even worse off then they were before.

A "Butterfly" can be disruptive, can't it?

And lastly, all the little Johnnie's and Suzie's who used to be able to find a nice little afterschool job at the local MickeyD's, like One in Eight of your fellow Americans used to do, will now forever be deprived of this part of growing up.  No more can they earn a few bucks to take little Suzie out to the movies on Friday night.  They've been frozen out of these jobs completely.  This "right of passage" will be gone.  And most likely, forever.  

Those fast-food jobs are now the province of our "newcomers," O'Biden's poll-tested word for "illegal immigrants," who now earn enough to take care of a family of five.  And pay those infernal union dues.  And all those taxes, doncha' know. 

The "Butterfly Effect" can really stir things up, now can't it?  

You're watching America being remade.  Right before your very eyes.  And I don't see anybody doing a damn thing to stop it...

*    The Service Employees International Union:  A bunch of thieves who work against the interests of their own members.

Much, Much Too Much.

It wasn't so very long ago that the "news" consisted of 22 minutes each day.

Only.

The news was sandwiched between commercials into a 30-minute telecast at 5:30 p.m.  You could choose which network to give you that news.  You could choose CBS, NBC or ABC.  They were the only three major networks back then.  They had affiliate stations across the land, on channels 5, 9, 11 and 13, handling the local news, enabling them to "network" their stations together.  Hence, the name.

But I remind everyone, all the stations signed off at midnight, and we were forced to stare at a black and white picture of an Indian Chief.  All night long.  Before we were encouraged to call them "Indigenous Personages."  

All three of these networks' newscasts were simple, straightforward and apolitical.  They provided the National and International news their local stations couldn't.  And wouldn't.  And that was just fine with us.  

Shockingly, in retrospect.  We subsequently learned that the anchors for these networks, Cronkite, Brokaw, Brinkley, Jennings, Reasoner and others, were personally very Liberal and very biased, but they didn't show it.  Perhaps their networks reflected their biases in their choice of stories to tell, but we weren't smart enough to know it at the time.  And that's if they did.  

All in all, I'd call this the "Golden Age" of news.   

Picture this:  We usually rode around with the car radio blaring, so we knew what was going on locally.  The local fair schedule, the weather, the cattle and hog futures report, and the invitation from the local bank to stop by and get a free ball point pen.  But if we wanted to know what was happening out there in the world, and most of us didn't, we'd catch the 5:30 news.  Usually while getting ready to go out and look for girls.  Listening in the background.  While doing the three "S's."  And then we'd promptly forget everything we'd just heard.

Today, there's a 24-hour news cycle from at least 15 different broadcast and cable sources.  Talking heads talking loudly, each clamoring for our attention.  So they can sell ads.  No longer straight-down-the-middle.  It's slanted to the Left or the Right.  But waaaay more on the Left.  And in a couple of instances, Hard Left!  It's Watch Me!  Listen to Me!  We're your kind of people!  You have every reason to hate Trump!  We do too!  Hello!  

HELLO!!!

In fact, I grew up in an era where nobody gave a sh*t what political party you belonged to.  Nobody talked about it.  Nobody divided themselves into insular, us vs. them, "party" affiliations such as they do now.  When time came to vote, you voted the party offering you the most in return.  The most spent at home, the most left in my pocket after taxes.  Simple.

As I recall the only thing dividing people in the least back then was whether you were a "War Hawk," or a "Peacenik."  Some wanted to spread our brand of democracy all around the world, and kill you if you chose to reject it.  And others wanted us to stay home, ignore the rest of the world, and spend the money building homes for Black people (in exchange for their votes).

And remember, back in those days there was no Internet.  Nor any cell phones.  There was a daily newspaper, but that was about it.  So what did we do?  We sure as Hell didn't watch TV!  We went cruising up and down the 4-Lane, flashing our lights back and forth when friends passed.  And then we'd turn around at the end of town and head back in the other direction.  Flashing our lights at all our friends when we passed once again.  And Heaven help you if you failed to flash those lights.  You'd be chastised!  

And BTW, the day I got my drivers' license was the happiest day of my life.  It meant FREEDOM!  It meant I could go anywhere I wanted for the first time in my life!  With no parent looking over my shoulder!  And to think, Tesla is charging $15,000 for their "Supercruise" option, which lets you play with yourself instead of enjoying the absolute, God-given freedom of driving yourself.  They are idiots.  Sorry, the truth hurts.  So driving yourself around is the second-best thing that can happen to you.  And it can help you "score" the first.

Such is life in Small Town America.

And then every now and then we'd pull into the Dairy Queen, back into a space, open up our hoods to show off our chromed-up motors, and bullsh*t all night with our friends.  Getting some of those tasty barrel fries and a cherry Coke every now and again.  As I recall, the fries were $0.15 cents and the Cokes were a $Dime.  And maybe even a few brewskies one of our older friends had bought for us.  And then doing a major-league burnout as we left the "Queen" on our way to some more cruising. 

Is this a scene out of "Happy Days," or what?

Or sometimes we might go to the roller rink.  Skating around and around, trying to pick up babes.  And maybe we'd go to the America Legion Hall when the "Krazy Kats" were playing.  Trying to pick up babes.  Or down to the bowling alley.  To bowl a few games, or play some pool (my special talent).  And look out for babes.  I remember it was bone-chilling cold in there on a hot summer's eve.  

Or maybe go to a movie, especially if it was a prelude to heading out to the country for some parking.  As in, "wink wink," PARKING!  Where we'd try and put into action what we'd just read in Playboy.  Or head on over to the Rumpus Room for some pinball action and maybe a dance or two.  

While trying to pick up babes.  

Oh yeah, and every now and then we'd get a challenge from one of our hot rod buddies from another of our hot rod buddies to go out to Bear Lake Bottoms, to Old Highway 36, and drag race!  And then everyone would hop in their cars and caravan out to the "track."  That was the clue for the D.Q. to shut down for the night.

We had pooled our meager cash and bought a couple of walkie-talkies.  So we'd place a volunteer at each end of the Old Highway so we could race all night unless the Fuzz caught wind.  And if they did the walkie guy would yell a warning and we'd run like bandits!  It was coooool!  Never did any of us get snagged by John Law for all our indiscretions.  Never!

It was exactly what growing up ought to be.

BTW, our local fuzz Highway Patrol guy was named Dick DeFreece.  He and I got to know each other quite well during this period.  Mainly because he wanted me to obey the traffic laws, and I found them, well, shall we say constraining.  And also for the times I outran him.  He told me on one occasion he didn't need to see my drivers' license.  That's because he had my D.L. number memorized.     

I had a good friend, Dick Sacarro, who worked in a printing plant.  I asked him to print up some bumper stickers to announce our little hobby to the world.  I called it the "Bear Lake Bottoms Timing Association."  Except I shortened that up to the "B.L.B.T.A."  The cops always wondered what that meant.  I told one of them it stood for, "Better Leave Betty's Tits Alone."

Now think about this:  Isn't that sort of existence far superior than every kid across the Nation sticking his/her/its nose in a cell phone or a computer all night long?  

And in closing I would offer that much of our angst and anger toward those who don't share our Tribal beliefs,  whatever they may happen to be, is fomented by our collective Media.  The "Alphabet" broadcast channels, and the bevy of cable choices.  They do their best to divide us.  Into separate groups.  And then try and sell that slice of our electorate to their advertisers.  

They are not our friends.

Please, Fellow Patriots, stop watching the news and start developing personal relationships.  You can't change what's happening and it will only give you heartburn.  Start hiking and camping.  Build model airplanes.  Go back to school.  Join a club.  Learn Chinese (you might need it).  Volunteer at your local soup kitchen.  Take up a hobby.  Start drag racing!  You just might find some babes!  

And who knows, you might even like it!

"The Last Full Measure..."

More than 1,400,000 of our fellow Americans have died over the years fighting for our collective Freedom.

That's in the 12 major and more than 100 minor wars, "police actions," "military involvements," and "skirmishes," we've engaged in since 1776. 

Here' a partial list of those who died so that we might live:

     -  Civil War:           620,000

     -  WW2:                405,399

     -  WW1:                116,516

     -  Vietnam War:       58,218

     -  Korean War:         36,516

In fact, the United States has been at "war," or our men and women have been "in harms' way," for 222 of its 241 years.  

Think about that.

That means there were - and are - countries which would fight and die to try and kill us.  Eagerly!  And take our property and our freedom.  And also our lives.  That would be most of the 195 countries on Earth, I believe.  I'd bet you can name half a dozen without even straining.  

The same countries to which we are sending boatloads of cash every year in "foreign aid."  To try and buy their friendship.  

P.S.  It isn't working.

That's why we have to remain ever vigilant, ever prepared.  For only that will dissuade foreign powers which might wish us harm.  That saved us during the Cold War.  It could do so again.  As the wise man once said, "In time of peace, prepare for war."  

And just to keep you current, more than 7,000 of our soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines have died serving our Country since 9/11.  All around the world.  In just the past 23 years.

And even though less than 1% of us have now chosen to join our all-volunteer military, down from 11.2% of our population who fought during WW2, more than 41,000,000 Americans have worn the Uniform of our Country over the years.  Proudly, I am certain.  

Less than 1% of us are now carrying the other 99%.

You might be surprised to know that we have forts, and stations, and encampments, and posts in 178 of those 195 countries.  Right now, today.  Working overtime to keep us all safe.  And believe me, they're not doing it for the money.  

Your Freedom was paid for in blood.  Perhaps the blood of a distant relative, long dead.  Or perhaps your father's blood, or maybe that of one of your sons or daughters.  And if you find that sentence somewhat blunt, jarring even, there's something you should know:  People are out there plotting to kill us.  And just because you don't see it, up close and personal, doesn't mean it's not happening.  Trust me, it's happening.  It's happening right now.  

Because Freedom isn't Free.

Today, as you're eating hot dogs and drinking a cool one, I'd like you to ponder for a moment the "Last Full Measure of Sacrifice" some gave so that you and I can enjoy this day.  None of them made the choice to go to war.  And to die in our service.  That choice was made by people in suits far, far away.  And often for the wrong reasons, in retrospect.  Sadly.  In fact, in retrospect, almost always.  But our young men and women answered the call, nonetheless.  They stood up straight and held up their hands.  They swore to defend us, and they did.  And so they deserve a few seconds of our thoughts.  

Please try and live your lives worthy of their sacrifice...

Tab "A," slot "B."

As you travel and party while celebrating our Memorial Day Weekend, please stay safe.  It's harder to do that now more than ever because of all the criminals roaming our streets.  The ones who really should be locked up.  And why aren't they locked up?

If one were to total up all the Federal prison cells in the U. S. of A., and all the state penitentiary cells, and all the county jail cells, and throw in all the city cells, and every Indian Reservation jail cell, and all the military lock-ups, you wind up with just about 1,998,765 of them.  Count 'em up.  I did.  And it took me all morning.  (They don't make that info easy to obtain!).

Not quite Two Million Lock-ups.  Hoosegows.  Gray Bar Hotels.  The "San Quentins" of America.  For 341,000,000 of us, the Census Bureau tells us.  Not counting the 50 or 70 or 100 million illegal aliens we have running around.  

Why is that worthy of note, you might ask?  Because at any one time we've got around 4,500,000 people out on bond or parole.  So called, "in the system."  

Annnnd, as I've noted in previous rants, there are about 250,000 felons in Taxifornia alone who've skipped out on their bail!  Among which there are 8,754 accused murderers, 12,357 rapists, and 15,465 carjackers.  

And they didn't show up for their court hearing.  Just blew it off.  So it's left to our cops to stop everybody they can, with orders to I.D. them, even when doing so is a 4th Amendment violation,* so they can scoop them up and bring them in.  It's unconstitutional!  And in the meantime, we have hardened criminals roaming the streets. 

Well, Fellow Patriots, I have a question: if they were accused murderers, why were they let out on bail in the first place?  Because, I would submit, we didn't have anyplace to put them!  Because we haven't built a new jail cell in Taxifornia since Christ was a Corporal!  

A lot of this whole "no cash bail" free-for-all we have here in Taxifornia is more about insufficient jail cells than it is about being nicer to lesser life forms.  Of course, when you have a dirtbag D.A., like L.A. does, who believes any punishment is too much punishment, what do we expect?

That's one of the major reasons our criminals rack up 30 or 40 arrests before they're finally held to account and sent off to the Gray Bar Hotel.  

Why don't we build new jail cells, you might ask?  Because the Leftoids who apparently run things around here believe we already have too many prisons and jail cells.  And they want to close the prisons we've got!  Even our whiny Hairgod BoyGuv Newsom is threatening to close San Quentin, the only two words that scare the Bloods and the Crips, and turn it into a rehabilitation and sports venue.   

I kid thee not.

So follow the bouncing ball:  If we built more prison cells we could lock up more criminals.  And they would therefore no longer be on the street, committing crimes.  Which is their job.  But our job is to lock them up.  Tab "A," slot "B."  Got it?

I knew that you would.   

*  I doubt our cops even know they're violating our 4th Amendment Right to safeguard "...our persons, our papers and our effects..." when they try and I.D. us, without "reasonable articulable suspicion that a crime has been, is being, or will be occurring." (CA Penal Code 148.G).  And if they do, and you alert them to that Penal Code, they lose their partial immunity against prosecution if they proceed.  You have to be arrested in Taxifornia before you have to give up I.D.  And you can sue the sh*t out of them and their city if they detain you, or especially arrest you.  And  you can even win if you take it "pro se."  We're talking $Thousands here.  Just sayin...  

Aiming Fluid...

It was my 18th birthday.  And I was halfway up a tree, on a foggy, wet, cold November morning.  The bone-chilling cold only those from Northern Missouri can know.  Awaiting the (hoped for) arrival of a buck.

A really big, 10-point or bigger buck.  One of those 230 pound whitetails!  Lemme' fill that freezer and head on off to the pool hall to brag to my buds.  Hallelujah!

Back where I'm from everybody hunts.  Everybody!  They hunt deer, and hogs, and ducks, and geese, and rabbits, and squirrels.  And quail and pheasant and pretty much anything else of a lower order that walks, crawls or flies.  To the extent when deer season opens, every November 11th, they call off the school day.  'Cause nobody would show up if they didn't. 

As at it happens, November 11th happened to fall on the day between my Mother's and my birthdays.  So my Dad and I made it a family tradition to bag our deer each fall, and then feast on backstraps the rest of the year. 

So like all my friends, I was in my favored tree, in my favored area, just south of Chillicothe, hoping that a big buck would grace my presence.  Before I froze to death.  

I believe the only reason there are any animals left standing (or sitting or flying) is the horrible weather.  Just sayin...  

It was before daybreak.  Around 5:30 a.m.  As always, mine was the only car on that gravel road for as far as the eye could see.  I'd parked and walked the several hundred yards to my tree.  I then eased my way up into my blind, hoisted up some black coffee in a Thermos, and willed myself to stay completely still.

And wait for sunup...

These are the most delicious parts of hunting, BTW.  The parts where you don't know how your hunt will go, but you have hopes, and so you sit there.  You've done everything you can to tilt the odds in your favor, but you don't know.  You're waiting.  Hoping.  Yeah, the best part...

I'd used this same tree and this same stand for the previous 5 years.  My Dad had come with me on my first year, back when I was 13, teaching me all I needed to know.  But since I'd gotten my license, I was on my own.  We'd gotten a deer that year, between the two of us, and each year since.  We'd alternated, as a matter of fact, which made our annual hunts a Father-Son competition.  Dad, to be sure, was only a half-mile or so away, just in case I got lucky.  Or vice versa.  So we could help one another.  

It was before cell phones but not before yelling.

I was using my hand-built .30-06 sporter that morning (I mentioned I was a gunsmith, right?).  I'd made it from a cut-down 1903-A3 Springfield WW1 rifle.  I fitted it with a very light (and very beautiful) Reinhardt Fagen birdseye maple stock and a 4x Weaver scope with Redfield helium filled mounts.  I was even handloading my own ammo back then.  My deer load was a 180 gr. Sierra soft point bullet on 50 gr. of DuPont #4350 powder, in Norma cartridge cases and Federal primers.  It was a thumper.  That rifle weighed in at only 6' 8 oz., for ease of carry.  But that heavy bullet escaping the barrel at about 2,800 feet per second, proved the concept of, "For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction." 

And that reaction was a black and blue shoulder.

Dawn was breaking.  I was at the heel end of a horseshoe-shaped cornfield.  About three acres of it, I'd guess.  Since the farmer had already harvested the corn, the ears which had fallen on the ground instead of landing in the truck made a tasty treat for the local deer.  So they'd come in for breakfast and feast on the corn, bringing themselves within 200 yards or so of my stand.  And 200 yards ain't nothin' where I come from.

You could throw a rock 200 yards, 'fergodssake!

The sun was high in the sky.  The morning hunt was pretty much over, I thought.  I was just about ready to call it a day and head on home.  And there, all of a sudden, he was!  A huge 10-point buck!  (That's 5 spikes on each side, BTW).  Easily over 200 pounds.  I'd guess 3 or 4 years old, and ready for the taking.  So I quietly picked up my rifle, took the caps off each end of the scope, raised it to my shoulder, quietly clicked off the safety, leaned up against the tree, lined up the shot, and prepared to pull the trigger.  Right behind his shoulder.  Ready?  One, two, ...

BANG, BANG, BANG!  I head three quick rifle shots!  And a bullet took a chunk of bark off the tree about a foot above my shoulder!  Another whizzed by my head.  Bits of wood were raining down on me as I instinctively ducked.  Damn!  Somebody's shooting at me!  So as quickly as possible I bailed on that tree.  I left the Thermos but took the rifle, thinking I might need it for a gun fight which just might happen.  

I ran as fast as I could to my car.  When I reached the road I noticed the two brand new Ford Broncos, parked front to back, same color, just a couple of hundred yards from my car.  With identical Kansas City Ford dealer's stickers on their back bumpers.  Since nobody else was around, I stopped to gather my breath and my wits.  I quickly scanned the immediate area through my scope sight.  Whew!  I was safe!  So I jumped in my car, popped the clutch and threw as much gravel as possible at the front end of one of those Broncos.  I hope I cracked the windshield and chipped the paint.     

Why?  These Big City boys were obviously camped at the other end of the meadow, two or three hundred yards from my stand.  Not even knowing I was there, but within their sight picture when prepping to shoot at something.  So when I was aiming at the deer from south to north, they were aiming at that same deer from north to south.  And it became a war zone.

With me as the noncombatant.

Fortunately, I got out with my scalp.  But that event scared me.  And it caused me to give up deer hunting thereafter.  I was not scared of dying, to be sure, but of Big City, one-day-a-year hunters, bringing their terror to small town America.  And them most likely filled to the brim with "aiming fluid," and most likely manufactured by your friend and mine, Mr. Jack Daniel, just looking for something to murder.

Thankfully, this time it wasn't me...  

"Hive-Think"

1st Amendment to the Constitution:  Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of the speech, or of the press; or the Rights of the people to peacefully assemble; or to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Now that I've provided that bit of History as a reminder for some of our Gen-Z folks out there, here's a thought you might find interesting:

Hive-Think:  "The tendency of a group of insects, like ants, bees and termites, to relinquish their individuality and perform as slaves according to the wishes of the colony's leader."

And humans, it appears.

Imagine this: a prominent professional football player states his heartfelt beliefs using his Freedom of Speech, exercising his 1st Amendment Rights, in front of those who've invited him to do so, and the League for which he plays, so well, comes out immediately with a condemnation of the contents of his speech.  Distancing themselves from him and the subject of that speech; God, and how to live a Godly life.  

1st Amendment, much?  Freedom of speech, much?  

Harrison Butker, the guy with 3 Super Bowl Rings, who kicks field goals for the Kansas City Chiefs (Go Chiefs!), arguably better than anyone else ever has (94% completions in '23), was invited to give the commencement address at Benedictine College, near Kansas City.    

Benedictine is a Catholic College which is attended mainly by Catholics.  A historically Conservative Order.  And Butker's a Catholic, also, which is likely why they invited him.  And so he delivers this stem-winding speech.  Giving glory to his wife, his kids, and his God.  Pretty predictable, wouldn't you say.  

So this was a famous Conservative Catholic talking to a flock of Conservative Catholics, in a Conservative Catholic institution, who presumably share his opinions about Conservative Catholicism.  The Conservative kind.  In fact, they gave him a standing Conservative "O."  There were no protesters, BTW, Conservative or otherwise.    

Is there a controversy in there somewhere?  Wouldn't you have to look pretty hard to find one?

Well, Fellow Patriot, Butker had the temerity to actually recommend to these students that they follow God in all things!  That they turn away from abortion, in spite of the fact our Government funds it.  That they realize their uppermost goal in life should be to find someone to love them, and then start and grow a family with them.  A big family.  Lots of kids.  A family that believes in God.  And acts like it.  

So far, so good, right?  But Noooooooooooo!!! 

The backlash started immediately with the Leftoid Corporate Media, those "ladies" on the View, the O'Biden White House, and every single "Progressive" in America making him out to be a fool and probably a criminal for, and because of, all day everyday, his religion. 

Oh, and most particularly, the National Football League.  They felt the need to denounce his speech, for what reason we can only surmise.  Maybe they're just a bunch of Godless heathens, only motivated by $revenues and favorable poll numbers.      

Why?  Butker said he thought it was quite okay for an educated woman, his woman, BTW, one who just got her diploma, to stay home and raise babies.  He wasn't recommending it for every woman, but suggesting it was okay to be an actual...ready for it?

"homemaker."

Like that's somehow a dirty word!  And the Corporate Media went nuts!  Oh my God!  Think about it: it's okay in 2024 to be a boy winning a girls' track meet, but not okay to stay home and be a mom.  I would think every father in America would hope to find a way to let his wife stay home and raise their kids if at all possible.      

Beyond the outrage from the atheist Leftoids among us, somebody in Kansas City's Social Media Department, actually doxxed Butker!  He/she/it/they gave out Butker's home address, including a snap of his house, and showed directions how to get there!

That's one pis*ed off Lefty!  That's one criminal act!    

Well, (Democrat) Mayor Bailey of K.C. followed all this up a couple of hours later (9:31 p.m., that same evening), by apologizing for this errant Tweet and said, in effect, "My Bad, So Sad."  Nothing to see here, just move along.  As if that would be enough.  

It wasn't enough.  And it isn't.

Apparently the Attorney General of Missouri doesn't think so either.  He's coming hard for whomever dropped that Tweet.  But will he be successful?  This "Hive-Think" that causes all those who disagree with someone enough to want to hurt them?  To ruin their lives?  To subject them to harm?  Simply because they harbor a differing opinion about politics?  Or religion?  Or how to raise their children?  Or our Freedom of Speech?  Which is enshrined in the very 1st Amendment of our Bill of Rights?  In the Constitution?  

Like in this case?

Doesn't Harrison Butker get Free Speech, even though he's a Catholic?  Is that what America's come to?  

Ask yourself: If Butker was Black and this was a Baptist Church in Georgia, or a Muslim football player, who was filmed espousing "From the River to the Sea" at his local mosque, would any of this have ever seen the light of day?  Would the NFL have come out strongly against either?  Would our Corporate Media blast that player for his beliefs?  

I think not.

I would submit that the majority believe as this Tweeter does.  They hate those who believe in something.  Anything, I would offer!  And act in a Godly way, when they don't.  And want us to perform as a Godly Nation, and they don't.  They are simply jealous.  That slight majority, those who hate Butker for being Butker, or anyone willing to walk and talk like Butker, are clearly unhappy.  And they're pis*ed because he is.    

Maybe they should talk with Butker and find out what's making him so happy? 

The "E.M.T.A.L.A."

Did you know that it's a Federal Law hospitals must provide healthcare services to anyone who comes through the front door?  

Or through the side door, or the back door, or down the chimney?  If it has a chimney?

Not just broken arms, we're talking victims of gunshot wounds and heart attacks and strokes?  The truly expensive stuff.  The $5,000-a-day stuff.  Great, if they pay.  

Disastrous, if they don't.

That's because during the 1980's ultra-large hospital management corporations arose, with most smaller, community-level hospitals then selling out to those "for-profit" concerns.  Like HCA Health Systems, and Tenet Healthcare, and Community Healthcare Systems (CHS).    

And those publicly-traded hospital corporations learned early on that treating indigent "bums" (I use the term inclusively for those who cannot/will not pay) was a loser.  And I might mention, if the "customer" just wandered across the Border, without our permission, but at O'Biden's invitation, he likely doesn't have an address.  Or a job.  Or health insurance.  So if he gets sick and finds himself in the E.R. at the local hospital, there's nobody to bill, and nobody to sue for non-payment.

So hospitals actually paid teams of folks to pick these people up at their E.R.'s and dump them in front of inner-city, publicly-funded hospitals.  And it was actually called "dumping."  This was a big legal scandal back in the 80's, and a number of hospitals were penalized $Millions.

Patients who did have assets but couldn't pay were ripe for collection proceedings back then.  Whereas the local hospital was always willing to work with their neighbors, when these new corporate owners took charge, the neighborliness went away.  They could, and did, sue anyone, for anything.  Creating a generation of families who'd been sued into bankruptcy for the inability to cover their medical debts.  

"Medical bankruptcy," as it was called.  I know many who suffered through this painful reality.  Shameful.   

So the Feds put out the word, no bum dumping allowed!  And the bums started dying in the alleyways around the community hospitals.  So Congress, in its infinite wisdom (cough, cough), passed the E.M.T.A.L.A.  It stands for the "Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act" of 1986.  And it stated, clear as day, that hospitals must take "emergent" patients, without regard to the ability to pay.  Emergent means they'll bleed to death without treatment.  

And hospitals would be in violation if they didn't obey.  As in, they'd take it in the shorts if they kicked out the indigent.  And the Feds told them they just might just stop covering Medicare reimbursements if they didn't.  Which in many community level hospitals, this could represent more than 60% of all their revenue.

And oh yeah, they'd take in the shorts if they DID take in the indigents, so they're in a LOSE-LOSE situation.  Just one more instance of the Federal Gubmint mucking things up by getting involved.

So what did these hospital do?  Like any good businessman who'd been kicked in the nuts by the Gubmint, they raised prices to offset the pain.  In some cases they doubled their charges.  Even tripled them!  

You've heard of the $10.00 Tylenol, right?  Sort of like the big chain restaurants are raising their prices in Taxifornia to offset BoyGuv Newsom's new $20.00 an hour MinWage.  Which could very well bankrupt many if not most of these restaurants, especially if customers stop coming.  Because, once again, they cannot afford to pay.  And/or they're just pi*sed at being screwed over and over.  By that same Gubmint, doncha' know.  

Are you getting the idea that when Gubmint gets involved, the lowly $Taxpayer almost always loses?

So hospital charges skyrocketed, making these new HospCorps $Millions.  Except when those hospitals find  themselves in the midst of a calamity, a catastrophe, a natural disaster, not of their own making, 

like a flood of illegal aliens rushing across the Border. 

These hospitals are treating dozens, even hundreds, who cannot pay.  And will not pay.   And so the hospital might just go bankrupt as a result!  Like its patients did 4 decades ago!

Oh, the irony!

What brings this to mind is the only hospital in El Paso County.  The County where hundreds of thousands of illegal aliens have crossed the border illegally.  And some of them, more than a thousand of them, have needed medical care.  Births, deaths, wound care, exhaustion, any reason at all.

And the hospital cannot say no!  Even though they know there's not a chance in Hell they're ever recover a Dime of their costs.  Must less "profits," just their costs.  And Brownsville Medical Center is more than $20,000,000 (with an "M") in the hole because of decisions outside its control.  It is losing more than $500,000 a month!  Because of decisions made more than 1,700 miles away.  Joe O'Biden opened the border and may kill this hospital.

The Only Hospital in the County.

Another example?  Sure.  Thomasville Hospital in El Paso stated it lost more than $1,000,000 in the first three months of 2024!  A county-level hospital cannot sustain loses like that!  

One more?  Of course.  You've heard of Parkland Hospital in Dallas?  The hospital in which President John F. Kennedy died?  That one?  73% of the live births in that hospital last year were to the "undocumented."  That means "illegal aliens."  Paid for by Medicaid.  Or rather, by you and me.   

Is this fair?  Does anyone care if this is fair or not?  Does the Gubmint have any plans to reimburse these tiny county hospitals?  Or will they refuse to fix a problem of their own making because these are little  hospitals in Red Counties in a Red State?

The odds are about 1 in 100.  Against.

Do the Democrats really want to leave El Paso County with 888,000 citizens...and No Hospital?

It Must Be in the Water...

You know, if you can't make it as a guy in your sport, it seems you can now try again as a girl.  Sort of a "do over."  Or, maybe as a "non-binary," whatever that is.  Because in O'Biden's America, the "female" in female sports has been erased.

You've to pardon me, I'm an old(er) fella and I grew up in an era when none of this crap would have been tolerated.  We would have just chained the fool who came up with this idea to the nearest pickup truck and dragged him until he regained his common sense.

With extreme prejudice.

An era when we kept our private stuff private.  Where trying to capitalize using your gender rather than your prowess, only worked for Ru Paul.  It's frankly unacceptable.  But yet, those on the far-Left, who seem to be running things these days, are accepting of it.  For reasons of "inclusiveness," doncha' know. 

You know, thinking back, I don't think we had a single gay classmate in my entire high school.  Or home town.  Or my county.  Or if we did, I sure didn't see it.  

And he/she/it didn't show it.

Or homosexuals, as they were called back then.  Or "queer," even.  Not pejoratively, just the names they were called, and called themselves.  And we didn't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings back then.  Because, as I said, there weren't any.  

And oh yeah, it was all okay.  Because they were the names reported in magazines like Playboy.  You know, the magazines we read with one hand?  (Heh, heh.  Old joke.  Sorry).  

And certainly no "transgenders," either.  In fact, I don't think that term was even invented until a decade or so ago.  Whether there was someone who wanted to don the garb of the opposite sex or not (a disfunction, technically called "gender dysphoria" by psychologists), they didn't.  Or at least they didn't do so in public.  And they probably would never do so, considering the time and the location.  

In fact, I had never met an openly "gay" person until I was "invited" to participate the Army's failed effort to eradicate an idea some 8,000 miles away in Southeast Asia.  

You know, if we can't win you over to our way of thinking, we'll just go ahead and kill you?  

And trust me, they weren't "open" about it.  I'm sure there were lots and lots of folks who were gay in the military, but they didn't advertise their sexuality.  Thankfully.  Nor should they.  Like Rock Hudson was supposed to be gay, we heard.  He was a Big Time movie star, BTW, for those too young to know.  Or care.  We didn't even hear the rumor about his "gayness" until well after his death.  And we even scoffed at the rumor.  His sexual preferences were none of our business.  He was good at his craft.  So nobody cared. 

And back in my neck of the woods, the Upper Midwest, we were "underinformed" about sex, to be sure.  Oh, we knew "how," and "why," and we all got our share of nookie.  But we weren't as schooled on the subject as the Internet would force us to later be.  And I mean, FORCE US to be!  We knew one or two or three "positions," not the 30 or 40 as the Kama Sutra would later reveal.  

(Some of which caused back spasms, BTW.)  

Like I recall one of my best friends and I were talking about sex one day back in the early '60's.  His name is Wayne and he was pretty dejected about his chances of getting laid.  I won't give out his last name but he knows who he is.  He said to me, and I quote, 

"I think I'm bisexual!  If I'm gonna' get any sex at all, I think I'm gonna' have to buy it!"

True.  Every word.  That's where I come from.  But I later learned while in college, preparing to become a clinical psychologist, that "gender dysphoria," or "wishing to become, or behave like, the opposite sex," affects no more than 3% of the population.  More like 1%, they believe.  Yet, HHS (Health and Human Services) tells us that fully 8% of our population is openly "transgender."  

That means, Fellow Patriots, that somewhere around 15 Million People are pretending to be the other sex.  For what reason?  To garner attention?  Mental illness?  Weirdness fetish?  Personality disorder?  Working for the Democrat National Committee and looking for a promotion?  

And God help us, do they also vote?

Matters not.  We've even got one as our Surgeon General!!!  A 60 year-old guy in a skirt and 3" heels!  Who supervises a staff of more than 6,000 physicians!!!  We had one who in charge of our nuclear fuel!  He was famously "non-binary," whatever that means.  The one who stole the baggage from airports so he could wear the stolen clothes inside, remember?  He was caught twice swiping luggage from airports!  He's on probation right now!  

Are you kidding me?

So, I've been trying to figure out how we got from my home town, where everybody kept their sexuality to themselves, what a concept!, to now, where MILLIONS AND MILLIONS of people are openly parading their "different-ness" for all the world to see.*  They even have an acronym for that strangeness; LGBTQIA2S+++, etc.  Which is apparently a collection of all the psychological "issues" a human being can possibly carry around.    

Oh wait!  The "+++" at the end leaves an invitation for other, yet to be identified and codified sexual misfires, to come and join in on the fun!   

Did they invite the "Furries?"  You know, those folks who spend $Thousands to dress up like cats and dogs, and then get together at conventions and act like them?  Should we add an "F" to the above acronym? 

I've concluded that it must be in the water.  

The Russians, or the Chinese, or those NoKo's, or even the Cubans, must have put something our water to make some of us act like fools.  Like complete idiots.  Our Great and Wonderful Society has been poisoned, undermined, tricked, bamfoozled, flim-flammed, hippppmotizzzed, even.  There can be no other reason for all this craziness.

I would offer that all this gross and unseemly information is way beyond that required or needed or desired in polite public discourse.  Aren't there a few things that should be kept private?  

Agree? 

*   Can you tell me why no girls are pretending to be boys and trying to get on their football teams?  Or soccer teams?  Or basketball, or baseball, or swimming teams?  Or rugby, or weight lifting, or track, or fencing, or tennis, or any other sporting event?

The Answer to Your Question.

Didja' ever wonder why those drug companies are running all those high-zoot commercials on TV for diseases you ain't got?

I'll betcha' you've asked yourself that, right?  Well, Fellow Patriots, I have the answer.

I was hired way back when by a division of the Pfizer Pharmaceutical Corporation.  To travel to all those small towns in Kansas and Nebraska, just me and my company car, pitching their drugs to small town doctors.  Usually old-timers, set in their ways, who don't like to be told how to practice medicine by some young whippersnapper.  Like I was.  It's sort of like being a reasonably well-paid traveling masochist in a suit.  They called me a "Pharmaceutical Manufacturer's Representative."  

The doctors called me a "Detail Man."

And that's what I was paid to do.  Try and "detail" all the country doctors on why my stuff was better than the other guys' stuff.  All the gory details, like why my stuff won't cause the patient's kidneys to shut down while curing his infection.  Or also make him go blind while trying to fix his arthritis.  

Oh, and also drop off trunk loads of samples for him to give as starter doses to his patients.  Giving away expensive drugs.  Which he can use to keep his patients loving him.   

So I was driving about 50,000 miles a year, from town to town, staying in crappy little motels, eating in "Maude's Diner," handing out samples and talking medical jargon to the doctors.  Many became friends.  Some were frankly dismissive of us "detail men" as a group.  Can't see why?  After all, I had two full weeks of training on how sell supremely complicated stuff to doctors in a 33-story skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan!  

Even though I won a .30-30 rifle and a set of Delft Blue China and a trip to Las Vegas, 1st class, for being the tippy-top salesman, I thought the whole thing was a goof.  I only went through these motions as a stepping stone to other greatness to follow.  Which it most assuredly did.  More on that later.  But in the meantime, I thought it was a waste of time, effort, energy and money for all concerned.  

Apparently the drug companies ultimately did as well.  Because once the Federal Gubmint loosened the regulations concerning the advertising of prescription medications on the airwaves, the Big Drug Companies began shifting their promotional dollars to TV and away from detail men.  Here are a few examples of the expenditures on TV adversing for 2023:

     -  Mounjaro.  Eli Lilly, $184,000,000

     -  Rinvoq.  Regeneron, $315,000,000 

     -  Duplixent.  Sanjo, $305,000,000

     -  Jardiance.  Eli Lilly, $145,000,000

     -  Rybelsus.  Novo, $123,000,000

     -  Ozempic.  Novo, $157,000,000

And once again, that's annually!  Just exactly what, you might reasonably ask, could advertising a drug on TV at $25,000 a spot, for a disease you don't have, nor does anyone you know, and you can't even pronounce, can possible make any sense at all (yes, I love long sentences)?  I mean, some of these drugs are for "1 in 10,000" population diseases!  The really rare illnesses for which there has been few treatments.  Well, Fellow Patriots, here's how:

It now takes an average of an astonishing $1,000,000,000,000, that's with a very Big "B," to bring a new drug to market.  And it can take as long as 20 years to identify a novel drug for a specific illness, and then test it over a series of multi-patient trials to find out if it actually works.  And then hire well-respected physicians to write articles for the peer-reviewed periodicals proving its efficacy.  And then, if it works, determine the cost of manufacture and distribution, in differing quantities, against the anticipated utilization if actually prescribed.  And then run it through marketing to determine if, and only if, there's a market out there for what the drug purports to affect. 

Not necessarily "cure," just positively affect.  

And after all of this, perhaps $800,000,000 to $1,000,000,000 of investment and years and years of testing, upper management has to decide whether to take the plunge.  To gamble.  To bring it to market.  And then HOW to bring it to market.  Over what period of time and using which marketing tools.  And most importantly, at what cost?  

Some of these drugs fail.  But some win.  And BIG!  And I argue that the ones which win most for their corporations are the ones used for other than their primary indications.  So called "off-label" uses.  And the doctors have to prescribe those medications for those "off-label" uses!  The ones where the market actually exists.  Knowing they're doing so!  They're in on it!  They're complicit!  

And the Big Drug Companies have become smitten with the idea that a new drug for Bacteroides Melininogenicus, or Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyrediculopathy, or some such, will find enough citizens suffering from the symptoms of those diseases, because of a TV commerical, to make it all worth while.  Especially if they have a team of fat dancers and a whole chorus of singers blasting out great original, catchy tunes!  So they'll run right down to their doctor's office and demand this new drug!  Today!  

The Ozempic TV commercial, the one with the fat babe in the blue pantsuit, cost more than $1,000,000 to produce!  Get it?

And their doctors, generally a bunch of spineless wussies (sorry, I've known over 10,000 of them, and truth hurts!), will acquiesce, figuring it's better to just grant their whiny wishes and keep the patient.  Which can be worth $Big Bucks.  And because he knows they'll go find another doctor if he doesn't write the script.  

Like Ozempic!  Which is for diabetes.  But has a "side effect!"  It keeps the gut from adsorbing nutrients.  Forcing the pounds to fall off while you keep on stuffing your fat face.  By basically starving you.  And making you sick to your stomach all the time.  And retching up bile.  But Oprah lost like 700 pounds on it, so why not?  Get it?  "It's better to look good than to feel good!"  So all of Hollyweird is main-lining Ozempic, and Novo Nordisk's stock has doubled.  And it's CEO just ordered a new Mega-Yacht.  Thanks to those annoying commercials.  You know, the ones you just tune out.

Another?  Of course.  Ever heard of Sildenafil?  You might know it under another name:  "Viagra."  Sildenafil was developed to lower blood pressure.  But they discovered during the drug trials that it gave male patients gigondo erections!  Hence, they marketed it for blood pressure, but "wink-wink," the doctors all prescribed it for Erectile Disfunction.  And it became a $1 Billion Dollar Drug.  A home run!

Ya' get it?

So they no longer need poor schlubs like me out there to try and pitch their products mano-a-mano to folks who don't like them anyway.  They spend their $Millions micro-slicing and dicing the TV watching public, looking for that tiny few who can $Ring Their Dinner Bell.

Thankfully I moved on before this earthquake took place.  I spent an entire career thereafter providing "Mobile Acute Hemodialysis, Hemoperfusion and Therapeutic Apheresis" to dozens of Los Angeles and Orange County hospitals.  My sainted wife and I created an entirely new category of healthcare delivery by bringing hemodialysis to the hospitalized patient, rather than the other way around.  Benefiting not only the patient and his family, who could remain local, but also the smaller, community-level hospitals who retained the revenue stream.  And we treated more than 10,000 patients over our nearly 40 year career.  And many of those patients are still alive today solely because of our services.

We also had more than 50 Registered Nurses and 3 technicians, as well as 4 office personnel as staff members, and 3 doctors on call during this period.  Not  bad for a country boy from upstate Missouri and a Polish girl from New York City, right?    

I'd just think of it this way:  Be happy the Big Drug Companies are paying the TV conglomerates over $One Billion Dollars a Year to air their commercials.  For drugs you should be happy you don't need and likely never will.  And pay for all those game shows and situation comedies and dramas set in fire departments and police stations you love to watch.  

See?  It's amazing what you can learn by driving from town-to-town, talking to country doctors who don't like you...   

 

Is God Pis*ed?

I've done a lot of research on the subject of this humble posting, including having read the Bible cover-to-cover.  And also possessing a 10 year perfect attendance pen from my Sunday school class way back when.  And although I've never been terribly, outwardly religious, I am a student of religion, and of history.  And how the two often merge.  And as near as I can tell, America is the only Country ever consecrated specifically "Under God."

And although not specifically mentioned in the Constitution, to emphasize inclusiveness (before that became a dirty word for most of us), God is hailed three times in the Declaration of Independence.  We separated from Britain "Under God," and we fought the Revolutionary War "Under God,  and we formed "...a more perfect Union," Under God.  

So that's pretty convincing evidence to me, anyway, that ours is a Secular State based upon Religious Values.

And that's because our Founding Fathers, the John Hancock's, and the Benjamin Franklin's, and the John Adams's, and the Alexander Hamilton's, were deeply, unapologetically, famously, publicly, Men of God.  George Washington even stated that he'd been visited by an emissary from God (St. Michael, I believe) to help him through that awful winter at Valley Forge.  And they installed that belief in the Declaration of Independence.  And later, in the Constitution, however obliquely.  

Our Constitution is the longest such governing document in world history, BTW.  I thought I'd mention that.  

And so I've always thought that God, in His infinite wisdom, has kept an eye out for us, the U. S.  Even though He'd promised to grant us all "free will" after that "Flood" thingie.  Which wiped out the entire human race, the Bible tells us, except for Noah and his gang.  

And perhaps He even looked out for us when things were going badly.  Like during the Civil War.  And the Great Depression.  And World War 2, as an example.  Those "...times that will try men's souls," as President Roosevelt proclaimed at the time.  

We asked for His help as a Nation, and He helped get us through those times.  And no one can tell us (me) any different.

But then we as a Nation began to turn our backs on Him.  I cannot remember a time when I didn't start my school day way back when without the "Pledge of Allegiance."  With our hands over our hearts.  Facing our Flag, standing in the corner.  

Or when every oath taken in our courts of law included the term, "under God" instead of "...swear and affirm."  Those same oaths that our city councils and mayors and cops and firefighters have to take.  And our Congressmen and the President, even!  Whether they mean it or not. 

Is it still like that?  Our Proud Flag standing in the corner of those classrooms?  With our kids repeating our Pledge?  Hands over their hearts?  I think you know the answer to that question...

No longer.  God is passe.  Too bad, so sad.  I guess we're beyond all that "religion" thing now.  Even though it's a part of the Foundation of our Great Land. 

Think back to when God was in our lives.  Before we permitted "...the camel to get his nose under the tent."  And you know what they say about that camel!  Before we let the enormous teachers unions gain control and strangle out God and our Love of Country from our kids' lives.  

And started installing racial hatred and resentment.  And anti-capitalist dogma.  And class rivalry, and racial animus, and the blurring of gender realities.    

And a hatred of and for capitalism, and all those who've achieved by choosing to embrace it.  And for anything that makes them "uncomfortable."  Transgenderism in, Love of Country, out.  They've installed cultural Marxism into our educational system instead, inducing a deep-seated rot that will be hard to eradicate.  If ever we can.

All that considered, have you ever thought that God is maybe smacking us around a little bit for taking Him out of our schools?  And our courts?  And our civil interactions?  And to the extent possible, our lives?  Perhaps giving us a taste of what it's like to live where God is fully outlawed instead of just ignored?  Like in Cuba?  And China?  And North Korea?  Maybe letting us know what it would be like if He abandoned us the way we've abandoned Him?

Our Federal Government under socialist O'Biden is even doing its best to jail those who now pray outside abortion clinics.  O'Biden's FBI even prosecuted such an individual and he received 11 years in prison.  For praying!  A higher court overturned that sentence, issuing a stern rebuke to the Government, but only after a long and expensive appeal.  

Thank God.  Maybe He had a hand in rectifying that Orwellian sentence.  

And what about all those "Christian fundamentalists" who show up at school board meetings in an effort to involve themselves in their kids' education?  What were they thinking?  We can't have that, now can we?  After all, doesn't the State "own" our children?  The State seems to think so.  Hi(liar)y Clinton seems to think so... 

Oh yeah, and, Mzzzz. Karmala Harris was the first American Vice President to visit an abortion clinic.  Sure made the owners of Planned Parenthood proud they chose that line of work!  And it made a nice subject for the next Sunday's sermon at thousands of churches across America.  And a nice subject for discussion in all the Sunday morning talking-head news shows.  Most of them proud of her, the others shocked and dismayed.  

Those who were proud to be in favor of that sacrilegious transgression makes my point.  Indelibly...  

And Good Ol' Joe O'Biden was kind enough to cross himself when he appeared with Planned Parenthood's president as she signed a new agreement with our Gubmint.  To kill another generation of their babies.  I wonder when an Official Executive Order will appear from the Oval Office requiring all American females to become "pro-choice?"   

And to bring God to the forefront, I'm thinking, His people, the Jews, are under attack once again.  A coordinated attack across the entire world.  One carefully planned and orchestrated by all those who need to blame others for their own shortcomings.  Which seems to pop up every generation or so, and has for millennia.  And it just may finally be a prelude to the End Times.  And something called "Armageddon." 

Read the Good Book if you were so educationally-deprived that you have no idea what those words actually mean.  And why those who don't should be quaking in their boots.  

To use my best friend's comment about this issue once again, he said, "It's just the latest chapter in a 5,000 year old book."  To which I add, could this be the final chapter?    

I'm thinking (hoping) God's bringing us all so close to the brink, to World War 3 even, just to show us that we're expendable.  All of us!  To wake us up.  To once again show us The Way.  

And if we don't awaken?  Look what He did to Sodom and Gomorrah?  The archeologists have just found the ancient city of Sodom, they say.  And funny, it's right where the Bible said it would be!  They found a square kilometer of fused glass where there used to be sand.  And the only thing that can turn sand into glass?  10,000 degrees!  The archeologists believe it was caused by an airburst from an incoming meteor, travelling 34,000 mph, which caused a nuclear blast.  A very localized nuclear blast.  Is there such a thing as a "localized" nuclear blast?  One that eliminates an area smaller than the footprint of Angels Stadium?      

Hmmmm...  

So while we're trying to repair the damage that's been done to our Country over the past few years (God help us...again?), we might want to get our respective houses in order.  In an effort to mend things with our Creator.*  Just on the off-chance He's a little bit pis*ed at the mess we've made of "His" Country.  

Otherwise, for some of us, it just might just get a bit toasty... 

*   And for those atheists out there, shouldn't you hedge your bets?  

Bacon is Now a Vegetable!

I've hereafter proclaimed that Bacon is forevermore a vegetable.  Although, it could also be a Fruit, if it suits your fancy.  If you're older than the dirt, that is.

Like me.

I've spent my entire life "eating right."  Not consuming too much of this, while forced to eat a gob of that.  With all of "that" looking and tasting just awful.  All to stay healthy enough...so I could grow old.  

To accomplish what, again?

Taking part in all of this enabled me to now grunt and moan and suffer on a daily basis.  Only every time I move.  From the very moment my eyelids snap open each morning I'm in pain.  And when I roll out of bed, I ache.  It hurts to move until the variety of pills I take each morning kicks in.  And I've deprived myself of untold measures of prandial joy so I could "live" to experience this.

Unlike the folks who've eaten steaks and potatoes and burgers and fries and pizza and ice cream sundaes.  Who die young(er).  Who drop dead from a heart attack.  Or a stroke.  With a smile on their faces, no doubt.  Before they have to suffer the pains and torment of growing old.

What a cruel joke.

Did you know that the average age at death of a White male back in the 1850's was only 44?  I am an expert on all things "Old West," BTW, so I know stuff like this.  And when they did die, it was from a snake bite, or pleurisy (tuberculosis), or an impacted wisdom tooth, or even lead poisoning (of the bullet hole variety).  

What they didn't die of was cancer, or Aplastic Anemia, or Multiple Sclerosis.  Because those are "old persons' diseases."  How nice.  We fought our entire lives to cure polio, and measles, and yellow fever, to replace them with lung cancer and heart disease and Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyrediculopathy.    

Did you know that fully 20% of all the money ever  spent on healthcare for you will be during the last two weeks of your life?  Really?  Do you want to look forward to you laying in an ICU with tubes running in and out of every one of your orifices?  Thinking about all the bacon cheeseburgers with Freedom Fries you didn't eat.  While a for-profit hospital does its very best to keep you alive, at $5,000 a day?

I didn't really take note when I was younger that I would one day get older.  I mean, really take notice.  As in, REALLY!  In fact, I doubt that anyone does.  It's a fact of life.

Or, of death.

You just keep your head down and run like Hell to try and earn enough to feed your brood, and pay all your bills, and stay out of jail, while everyone with less is trying to take what you've got.  And so is the Gubmint, which is owned and operated by those who've got much more than you do.  And continue to do their best to peel you like a grape.

Folks my age have two main fears: running out of money in Uncle Joe's "Bidenflation," and then sitting on a sidewalk somewhere begging for alms; or falling, breaking something, and then dying in a hospital a week later from pneumonia.  

Hence, the "20%."

In fact, I have another fear.  As a veteran, I'm afraid I'll be shuffled off to some V.A. old age home.  You know, when I become senile like our President.  When I can no longer converse in a language approximating English.  And then I'll wind up on the sun porch, in an Adirondack chair, with a blanket across my lap, and a silver drool cup hanging from my lips, while some 400 pound Samoan nurse asks, "And how are we today, Mr. Chuckmeister?"

What's this "WE" sh*t?  It ain't YOU in this *$#&@ chair!

But in the meeeeentime, I've decided that every day might be my last.  In fact, every meal might be my last!  So I've given all my foods the new, and improved, "Chuckmeister Food Groups" label.  For instance, bacon is now a vegetable!  Most closely related to Kale, I believe.  And steak for me is actually a bunch of Carrots.  And with those carrots we have a nice, fat baked, umm, cauliflower.  Replete with a dollop of sour...broccoli.  And then on top we smother it with a nice, er, green bean sauce.  With a few of those cantaloupe bits, doncha' know.       

Tasty stuff, that broccoli!  

And after every single meal, including breakfast, I'll prepare a nice caramel swirl ice cream sundae, covered with caramel syrup, and a dash of chocolate sauce, with some Cool Whip on top.  And sprinkles.  A generous portion, to be sure.  And I'll enjoy the heck out of it!  In fact, its one of my primary sources of joy!* 

And trust me, what they used to call "joy" is in short supply here in 'Murica these days... 

*  I've decided not to "recategorize" ice cream and its various sauces.  That's because God loves us and wants us to have ice cream and everything we can possibly put on top of it.  Oh yeah, and beer, too...

The Last Bastion of Americanism.

Well, Fellow Patriots, I bid an R.I.P. to my pet white rat Frank Lloyd in my last posting.  Where I highlighted the propaganda being forcibly shoveled into our "blank-slate" young men and women.  By legions of socialist and Marxist educators, dead-set on bringing down America.  

And just yesterday I learned about the collapse of our Last Bastion of Americanism.  The "Boy Scouts of America," or so they've been called for more than 114 years, have now knuckled under to "inclusiveness."  A word I've come to believe is a synonym for "communism."  A word fashioned from all the DEI and the C.R.T. that's been forced down our throats after decades of effort.  

They've now dropped the "Boy" out of their name, and left "Scouting America."  Because they've now been infected with Marxism and "multi-culturalism" and "woke-ism."  

As their new CEO, a reprobate from the tech industry, calls it, their Scouts are now open to expressing their real, true "authentic self."  And we now all know what that means.  Have the Scouts who've traveled through your Organization over the past century been inauthentic?  Including me?  

Hmmmm?  

Perhaps after having been sued multiple times and gone bankrupt, due to the reprehensible actions of a few, the "BSA," as they were also known, is flying apart like a Woolworth watch.  Before our very eyes.  They're hemorrhaging members, and therefore dues, one would suspect.  The dues they need to keep their bloated salaries coming in.

From a high of more than 5 million members in the 1970's, membership had dwindled to around 2 million as recently as a decade ago.  And then the accusations of sexual abuse by a few scoutmasters resulted in a $5.6 Billion Dollar award from its bankruptcy proceedings.  

Membership has dropped to about 1 million now, and it seems its new management believes the way to fix the Boy Scouts of America...is to break the Boy Scouts of America.

Even though there's been a "Girl Scouts of America" for decades, the BSA is now openly courting girls.  Please come join us!  And gays now, also!  A "condition" they ran away from for decades.  And even transgenders.  Please!  Welcome aboard!  Give us some of those transgenders!  And one would suspect, therefore, folks from all across that "LGBTQ2SABC123+++ spectrum. 

In fact, in an effort to stay afloat and fish for new members, it began welcoming gay members in 2013, and gay scoutmasters in 2018.  Perhaps the very reason membership started to tank.    

This is a death knell to Scouting.  And I speak from experience.  I was a Cub Scout at the age of 8, a Tenderfoot when I turned 10, a Boy Scout by the age of 12, and an Explorer Scout from 18 and onward.  I also served as both an assistant scoutmaster and a scoutmaster.  And along the way I earned an Eagle Scout Award, with two Oak Leaf Clusters.  And a God and Country Award.  And 33 merit badges.  

No longer will inner-city boys be afforded that life-changing two-week summer camp.  Where they got to learn all about living and learning in the woods, and away from parents.  Young men used to find friends and forge life-long bonds.  They learned to tie knots, and take swimming classes, and build lean-tos, and forge friendships.  And not just big city kids.  Kids from smaller towns used to look forward to that summer experience.  And I was one of them.

I was invested in the Boy Scouts.  I've lived my entire life guided by its motto, "Be Prepared."  I've tried to live my life according to the Scout's Creed.  And all my other fellow Scouts feel the same about this issue, I would guess.  But whether they do or not, I'm personally ashamed of this development.  This press release could just as easily have come from the "Onion."  Its a sham, and a shame.  And a Big Middle Finger to all the Scouts who've proudly served this once-fine Institution.  This is the Beginning of the End of an idea, for sure.  And for the Organization, most likely.  

But more importantly, Fellow Patriots, what does this portend for our Country?  Along with Chevrolets and apple pie and baseball, the Boy Scouts of America was  a part of what made America special.  A part of the fabric of our Nation.  It prepared legions of young men for adulthood.  How will the "new" "Scouting America" prepare our young men, and women, and "others?"  Or will it bother to even try? 

So on the way out the digital door, the Boy Scouts are now just "Scouting," and they're looking to pilfer members from the Girl Scouts, and open wide their membership to those openly gay and asexual and bi-sexual and transgender and two-spirit and every other sort of deviation from the conventional young boy imaginable.  While the Girl Scouts do the same, I would suspect.  Or perhaps they'll just change their name to "Scouting, Too." 

As I've warned you many, many times before...

"...you let a camel get his nose under the tent..."