Q: Want to Beat Taxifornia's High Gas Prices?

A:  Take a job with the Federal Gubmint!

There are a couple of things we know for sure.

One, living in Taxifornia costs more.  Mucho more.  Our housing cost more, our food costs more, our electricity costs more, our clothing costs more and our gas costs more.  Our healthcare costs more, too.  And godddammit, our taxes cost more!    

More than any other state.  

And all the high-earners have up and moved as a result!  And taken their taxable income with them.  To any of the other 21 states without an income tax.  Leaving us poor taxpaying schlubs behind.  

For example, the recent average gas price here is $5.83 a gallon.  That's just about $2.00 per gallon more than the rest of our Nation.  

Did you know that 15% of our population pays 40% more for gas than the rest of our folks?  And the "Corporate Media" doesn't report it!  

Did you know that BoyGuv ("Hairgod") Newsom just hiked our gas taxes to $0.61.7 cents a gallon!  

Far higher than any other state?  Did you know that fully 17% of our cars are electric?  And that they pay no gas taxes?  While weighing so much (a ton more on average) they're destroying our roads?  Without contributing anything toward their maintenance?  

We pay more, so they can skate?

But there's a way to avoid Taxifornia's HIGH gas prices.  You can simply go to work for the Federal Gubmint!  

During a recent interview the Director of HHS casually mentioned that 40% of their office space is currently mothballed.  Empty.  Nobody home.  So the next logical question is, why?  And then he said, 31% of our Federal employees are still working from home!  Two years after the Chinese Wuhan Pandemic was visited upon us, and declared kaput, a third of our Federal employees are still working from home because of it!  

Can't you just see it?  In their 'jammies, watching Jerry Springer reruns, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, smoking legal weed they bought with SNAP coupons, and eating bon-bons.  Tapping a keystroke every now and again.  Just to make sure their Overlords know they haven't died.  

Soooooo, you can now avoid Taxifornia's high gas prices without having to move.  And you can earn a salary averaging $106,997 a year (Google it), and have a one-in-three chance of working from home!  In fact, they'll probably tell you, if you ask, if you could be among that exalted few!  And since your boss is probably working from home also, he'll certainly understand your request!  In fact, since I work from home every day now, I might just apply myself!

And if the Gubmint doesn't hire me, I'll sue, proclaiming that failure a Crime Against the Aged!

And since lawyers are thick as fleas here (more attorneys in Orange County, Taxifornia, than in all of Canada!), I can probably find one to file that suit on the cheap.    

I can see it all now.  $106k a year for doing the unnecessary, for the unimportant.  While in my boxer shorts.  Smoking dubies.  With the Star Spangled Banner playing softly in the background.  

Is America a Great Country, or what?     

Back When Cars Were Pretty...

Somewhere along the line we were sold a bill of goods by the car manufacturers.  And their bosses, the Federal Gubmint.  

They sold us on buying SUV's instead of 2-door coupes.  SUV's instead of 4-door sedans.  SUV's instead of Station Wagons.  And SUV's instead of convertibles.  

Why?  Because it's easier to make one style of automobile.  And cheaper.  And more profitable. 

And what's an SUV (Sport Utility Vehicle)?  It's nothing but a pickup truck with a different suit of clothes.  And a prettied-up interior.  And another $25,000 packed onto the window sticker.  

Oh yeah, and let's talk pickup trucks.  They used to cost about half what a sedan did.  And guys were buying them fully-loaded, especially Ford's F-150's, in the millions.  So the manufacturers decided to pack them with the same stuff all those SUV's had, and then mark up the prices accordingly.  

So $60,000 pickups are now the norm.

Did you know there was a time when the auto manufacturers changed the designs of their cars each and every year?  And they did so for decades!  It was expected!  We, the motoring public, would have stood for nothing less!  But today's car buying public seems to have embraced sameness.  Like those car makers were hoping.  The "Frog in the Pot" theory writ large (look it up).

Just think how much those manufacturers save by not having to do major restyles each year?   

I fondly recall peeking through a small tear in the butcher paper covering the floor-to-ceiling windows at my friendly Chevy dealer.  It was early September of 1957 and we couldn't wait to see what they were going to look like.  Me and my young teenage buddies.  Because in early September of every year they came out with an all new design.  All the manufacturers did.  They competed with each other for the styling buzz.  But it was still a few days until the formal reveal...

"It's longer!  It's lower!  And wider!  And it handles better!  And has more horsepower!  And more torque!   You'll have a "'tiger in your tank!"'  

Today?  That infernal TV screen in the middle of your dash is now bigger!  Perhaps it will soon grow so big you cannot see around it.  Or maybe the 128 speaker sound system will knock your socks off.  If you choose to wear socks (no suggestion as to lifestyle, positive or negative, hereby implied).  Or perhaps it will be so very quiet you'll not be able to hear it at all.  And for those who love the rumble of those throaty V-8's?  

Too bad, so sad, you Troglodytes!  You're out of luck.

Think about it this way.  Cars when I was coming up were gorgeous.  And their interiors were stylish.  Think the '57 Plymouth Sport Fury.  And the '60 DeSoto Adventurer.  And the '68 and '69 Chevelles.  And the '55, '56 and '57 Chevys.  And the '60 Ford Starliner.  And the '64 Oldsmobile Starfire.  And the '58 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz.  Let's not forget the '57 Thunderbird.  The the luscious '57 Studebaker Golden Hawk.  

The designers of these vehicles competed with each other through looks.  They penned a design and the engineers had to fit their stuff inside it.  Oh, they were mechanically pieces of crap, compared to the expected longevity of today's vehicles, but they were pretty.  They were likely to wind up on the side of the road, completely used up, by 80,000 miles.  That's why so many of them wound up in stock car races and then in junk yards.  

Oh, and they would kill you if you ran into anything of substance at more than 40 mph.*

And then the Gubmint got involved.  They came up with the NHTSA (National Highway Transportation Safety  Administration) back in the 1970's.  And it began issuing edicts like crazy.  To make our cars safer!  And less powerful.  

And heavier! 

The average weight of a "Big 3" full size sedan back in 1960?  2,789 lbs.  The average weight of a full size sedan today?  4,219 lbs.  That's a dozen air bags and "crush zones" and steel cross-reinforcing, and a bunch of other safety stuff.  And you have to pay in reduced gas mileage to cart it all around.  And worse yet, you have to pay your dealer for all that stuff.  Whether he wants to put it in the car or not.  And whether you want it on your car or not.

Example:  Try and find a car today without power windows.  Or power steering.  Or power brakes.  You can't.  That's because it's cheaper to install them in every car, and then to charge you for them as a part of a package options.  No delete, so sorry.  

And face it: cars are ugly.  And the customers have been conditioned not to care, it seems.  I defy you: stand 50 feet away from the side view of any sedan today and try and tell me who made it.  Or the model.  Or even the year.  That's because they all look the same.  Unfortunately.   And our public keeps on buying ugly crap, which takes away any reason at all for the manufacturers to change.  In fact, manufacturers now refurbish existing designs only once every 6 years.  

The lazy creeps.

Back when I was growing up, cars were beautiful!  They were works of art!  In fact, most of them were penned by famed designers.  Raymond Loewey.  And Virgil Exner.  And the world famous Harley Earle.  They drew the cars Detroit built.  And they changed each and every year!  Brand new designs, all new cars!

Maybe that's why these 60 - 65 year-old automobiles are commanding a king's ransom when they cross the block at Barrett-Jackson or Mecum Auctions.

I ask you.  What would you prefer.  Beatiful works of rolling automotive art, that you would want to wash by yourself, or shoebox-shaped lumps of souless metal, that you would take to the car wash without a second thought?  

Think about it:  An automobile is likely the 2nd largest purchase a citizen is likely to make.  Right behind one's house.  And it seems to me that we should demand a whole lot more for our $900 a month for 7 years, than a square clump of ugly metal you're not excited to drive.  If you agree with me, you could always send off a nice email to the folks who made your car, and lettem' know exactly how you feel about your ugly piece of crap.

An aged, wandering Scribe Without Portfolio needs to vent every now and again.  I just did...  

*     I recall having to check the box for seatbelts on the order form for my 1962 Chevrolet Super Sport 409 cu. in./409 hp., with 4-speed, and posi-traction.  While the Beach Boys song ("Giddiyup giddiyup 409!") was on the charts.  The extra cost for the belts?  $7.62.  Really.

The True Cost of a Permissive Society.

Seems to me like there's a lot of evil people in this world.  And evil people do evil things.  And I, The Chuckmeiser, propose that we're doing a terrible job of minimizing their impact, and also of "adjusting" their attitudes.    

While the D.A.'s in the Big Blue Cities are taking carjackers and murderers and muggers and armed robbers and releasing them from jail on a misdeamenors.  Some 54% of felonies are being downgraded.  To misdemeanors.  More than half of them.  In Lost Angeles, ChicaGO, New Yawk and San Franpoopco.  And dozens of other Big Blues.

And then they're freed to go out and sin some more.  The average numbers of arrests before a first-timer is sent to prison...is 38!  Thirty-eight arrests!  This would be funny if it weren't so serious...   

A percentage of our population, including moi, believe we've been "mollycoddling" (remember that word?) these miscreants by failing to mete out the proper punishment, when appropriate, and with all due speed.  Believing, as they do, that refusing to prosecute them will somehow be an incentive to stop thier evil ways.

It isn't.

I was taught while studying to become a clinical psychologist (Army got in the way), that up to 3% of our population are criminals.  Or clinically psychotic.  Or road raging.  Or drunk.  Or high.  As a kite...

And those people are at the supermarket, shopping right alongside you.  Or coming toward you at 70 mph on the other side of the road.  Or sitting next to you at Little Johnnie's little league game.  On on the bar stool beside you at the "Dew Drop Inn."  Or working with you at "Mad Jack's Gun Emporium."

And they can erupt at any time.  Or all of the time.  And that's the reason why we have to hire 3% of our population to police them.  If we add up all the cops, and sheriffs' deputies, and marshals, and constables, and military police, and all their support staffs (just double the number of cops, which is 880,000), we're looking at about 3,000,000 of our fellow citizens.  To "protect and to serve" all us peons when we need protection from these under-punished criminals. 

And I emphasize under-punished. 

You know, the ones who want to separate us from our wallets, and our watches, and our "Murssaydeez-Benz-es."  And on far too many occasions, our lives.

And then since sh*t flows downhill, and we Taxpayers are downhill, we need another 3% of our population to populate the courts.  The municipal, superior, district, appelate and supreme courts.  In each state.  And all of their judges.  And their baliffs.  And their stenographers.  And all of their secretaries.  And their secretaries' secretaries.  And the courthouse cleaning staff.  There are 30,000 in just the Federal court system.  There's another 115,000 in our U. S. Justice System.  There are 450 courthouses in Taxifornia, fergodssake!  That's another 3,000,000 people we Taxpayers are burdened with.    

Our society requires us citizens to obey the laws.  And proscribes punishment for those who do not.  Yet, some people find crime easier than working.  Apparently not knowing they'll be required to work in prison, I'm guessing. 

And another chunk of our population are dead-set against prisons and cops and requiring Bad Guys to be punished for their evil deeds.  For some unearthly reason.  Maybe they were just raised wrong.  So they stand in the way, often politically, of meting out proper punishment and on a timely basis. 

And speaking of which, there are the prisons.  For those who break the law, get arrested, charged, tried and convicted.  Costing this polite society even more of its hard earned $cash.  About $54,000 a year for Federal felons, on average.  And for them we have our Federal, state, city, township and Indian Reservation hoosegows, totalling  1,987,000 jail cells.  Requiring the tens of thousands of prison guards it takes to oversee these criminals.  And all the civilians these prisons need to operate.  The kitchens, and the infirmaries, and maintenance, and their administrations.  Another how many million?  Can't find the answer to that, but it's got to be at least 1 Million more.

And let me throw in at this point that every single one of our prisons is understaffed and over-criminaled.  Prisons built for one-man cells now have 3 or even 4 to a cell.  And there hasn't been a new Federal prison built in the last 25 years.  Because soft-on-crime Lefty politicians have blocked the effort. Our own BoyGuv ("Hairgod") Newsom has plans to close San Quentin, our oldest and biggest and more fearsome prison, and turn it into a summer camp for paroled felons.  

Sooooooo,

Q:  Since all our prisons are beyond full, where do we send our new felons?  A:  We downgrade their felony beef and magically turn it into a misD.  And then give them a 60-day sentence, and then suspend it, giving their comminity service instead.  Don't do it again.  Sure...

I could go even farther down this rabbit hole, but I think you've got the idea.  You chose to live in a community of other people.  And a surprisingly big chunk of your fellow citizens would steal your piggy bank, or even your life, if they thought they could get away with it.  So we pay a yuuuuge bunch of $cash to hire and train and field policing forces to protect us.  Are they?  Could they do better?  And if so, why aren't they?  

We've created a permissive society.  Some of us see what others have, and we're either too lazy or too stupid to acquire it short of lawbreaking.  We've created that.  

It's up to us to "un-create" it.  

We've got to "fire" all the George Soros bought-and-paid-for District Attorneys, holding sway in all the "Big Blue" cities, holding reign over the lives of more than 70,000,000 of our fellow citizens.  More than 20% of our population.  Stop sending accused felons home on a "no cash" bail.  And then stop being so permissive in your sentencing.  It's time to put the word out through the System that there's a New Sheriff in Town.  

(I know, I know.  It make take until November 5th for us to get that new Sheriff, but I'm just paving the way in advance.)

And if the hard-Left in this Country won't let us build more prisons, let's focus all our energies on eliminating the hard-Left!  Vote them out!  Lock criminals up!  Show them we mean business!  If you punish people for bad behavior, 

you'll get less bad behavior!

Summation:  Because 3% of our society choose to break our laws, repeatedly, we must hire another 6% or 7% of our society to clean up after them.  That's nearly 10% of our folks engaged in an unproductive task.  Think of it this way:  We could easily pay off our National Debt if we would simply start punishing our career criminals.  We've got to put a stop to this.  What part of my entirely reasonable solution to a major-league problem, affecting every single one of us, do people not get? 

P.S.  Well now, that felt good!  Once I get all cranked up on a rant I find it hard to dismount.  It's the frustrated teacher in me.  But I feel all better now.  I think I'll go take a nap...

On Fat Cops and Thin Wallets...

So I was headed off to my favorite bakery the other day, anxious to buy a load of their famous oatmeal salted carmel cookies (Great Harvest, Temecula, CA).  

I am feverishly addicted to them.  They are like crack.  And if they were next door and more accessible, I'd weight 700 pounds.

Anyway, I'm driving along one of our wide, wide neighborhood boulevards, 3 lanes on each side, 10:00 a.m., bright Spring morning, through a nice neighborhood, 50 mph speed limit, and my phone rang.  The subject of which made it necessary to change my plans.  So I found the next stop light and made a "U" turn.  On the left turn arrow.  A very costly turn, as it turned out...

It seems  that I made the Earth-shattering mistake of "U" turning in a no-"U" turn lane.  Into a quiet neighborhood.  Without a single car within sight in either direction.  Except I was facing the blaring sun, straight in front of me, ten o'clock high, glaring off my windshield, and couldn't see the little sign.  The one hanging from under the stop light.  The one that says, "No U Turn."

So a fat cop on a Kawasaki pulled me over.  It seems he was hiding behind a parked car, just waiting for some poor schlub to violate some law or other so he could collect some more revenue.  Like a good road pirate should.

When he came to my window and said, "Do you know why I pulled your over?"  We know a recent law in Taxifornia makes it illegal for cops to pull that trick.  So I said, "If you don't know, why did you pull me over?   

He didn't answer.  But the scowl on his pudgy face was evident.  He took my information and disappeared for about 20 minutes.  I'm convinced that since I haven't had a ticket in more than 20 years, he was playing poker on his cell phone.  Or maybe visiting his OnlyFans account.  Or maybe trying to find some other reason to hem me up.  Maybe call out a puppy and run him around my car.  Looking for contriband.  They do that here in Taxifornia...   

Fat Cop finally reappeared with a lengthy ticked in tow.  I asked him why I wasn't getting a warning, given the fact I'm not an international terrorist?  And I'm "of age," and haven't gotten a ticket in like forever, and couldn't see the friggin' sign because of the sun?  And for all he knew I'm living on a subsistence budget and should be given a break?  

Seems like Fat Cop was in no mood to cut me any slack.  Maybe my car was nicer than his.  Or he didn't care for my response to his illegal question.  Cops, especially Fat ones, get a bad case of the "Butthurt" if you don't show them fielty and lick their boots.  But I guess they don't give warnings any more.  Until they reach their monthly ticket quotas, that is.

Or maybe he was pissed because he didn't get the job on the mariachi band.  

"Here's your ticket," he said gruffly.  "For running that light" (which I didn't!).  "Sign here..."

Realising I'd be snagged, I decided to go out in a blaze of glory.  I said, "I'd like to say how proud of you I am for 'protecting and serving' this quiet community from an aged old Veteran."  I then went on to say, 

"I'd like to say that, but I can't."

Fat Cop had a quizzicle look on his mustacheoed face, trying to figure out if I'd dissed him.  And if so, how hard.  But then again, he was not equipped by God to deduce such intellectual musings.  He was one of those worker drones supplied only with the brain cells necessary to ride that silly bike and write tickets.  Gobs and gobs of tickets.  And gather up scads of revenue.  

And eat donuts.  

I drove off with a display of speed, tires chirpping as I left, daring Fat Cop to cite me, while he played with himself on his motorscooter.  I came home pissed.  No cookies, but ticket in tow.  I immediately Googled "traffic courts," And dozens showed up.  I picked the one at the top, not wishing to invest any more time than necessary before I could figuratively wash Fat Cop's fingerprints off my Drivers Licence.  

And off my life...

Epilogue:  Fat Cop is in my rearview mirror, thank God, and so is $389.00 of my hard-earned money.  $320.00 for the ticket, and $69.00 for the "Fast & Furious" traffic court.  Plus "Graduation certificate suitable for framing."  There were about a dozen categories, such as "Staying in your lane," and "Avoiding Rear-Enders," and "Don't Speed."  I decided not to read the laborious info and just take the test.  I got 98 out of 100.

What a load of bullsh*t.

But I still can't see road signs if the sun bakes my eyeballs.  Maybe Fat Cop can, fueled by XX, but normal citizens cannot.  Especially if Fat Cops hide behind parked cars at the appropriate times each day, when the sun's just right in the sky, so they can fatten up their city's fat coffers.  While being fat.  Which in my opinion is the main reason they exist.

I'm over my ticket.  But I'm not over the System that produced it.  And lightened my shrinking wallet.  We've created a paramilitary force within our borders, which is designed, created and implemented to catch us in an infraction, detain us, grab our "papers," and take our money.  While simulataneously letting real criminals out the revolving door.  They're taught only the laws while in the academy which will bring in revenue.  And then released upon the public to snatch their employer's money.  

Those employers would be us.  

If anybody can come up with a system that doesn't make the citizens afraid of their sworn protectors, whose salaries they pay, he/she/it will win the hearts and minds of the Taxpayers...

A "Color-Blind" Society.

You might remember that Democrats have been calling for a "Color-Blind" society since the days of LBJ.

And since then, we, The Taxpayers, have spent more than $6 Trillion Dollars on efforts to more fully integrate Black folks into the fabric of America.  Giving them rental assistance, food stamps, no-interest loans, and extra points on their civil service and college and university entrance exams.  

Considering all that, I thought I'd take a look at what Black folks have done to integrate themselves into our society.  Ready?      

You might not know it, but there's another national convention going on this week.  Besides the Republican National Convention, that is.

That would be the "National Association for the Advancement of Colored People."  They believe in advancing "Colored" people.  Only "Colored" people, it would seem.  

Which is the only context in which you can now mention the word "Colored."  If you'd like to remain a part of our polite society.

It used to be that "Colored" was the preferred word for their race.  That's what they called themselves.  That's what they wished to be called.  It was preferable to that other word they were often called, the dreaded "N" word, the use of which now is akin to taking a dump, while naked, and spewing fielty to Donald Trump, in the middle of a garden party.  

Of course, they were also called "Negroes."  Not disparragingly, just what they were called, and what they called themselves.  They evolved to preferring "Colored" over "Negro," and we "Others" tried to stay up on their wishes.

That's the way it was where I grew up, and likely where you grew up as well.  

BTW, the only remaining vestage of that name that I could find is located smack in the middle of the "United Negro College Fund."  A fund only for "Negroes," BTW.  No other races may apply, I would assume.   

Funny they haven't changed the name, isn't it?  Perhaps it would cost too much for new stationery.

It should be known if you called one of them "Black" when I was coming up, you'd likely get knifed.  "Colored" was okay, "Negro" was okay, Black was not okay.

Now?  That's all they're called.  And that's just fine with me.  I'm agreeable with whatever makes them happy.  One big happy family, under the Flag, with the Star Spangled Banner Playing in the background.  

Excepppppt, you can't swing a dead cat these days without hitting something with the name "Black" in it.  The "Black Entertainment Network."  The Congressional Black Caucus.  And Revrund Al's "Black Action Network," which pays him more than $1 Million Dollars a year.  For being a talking head on MSDNC.

And the "National Congress of Negro Women."  And we can't forget "Black Lives Matter."  Only Black lives, no others.  And one of my personal faves, The "American Association of Black Museums."  Black museums?  Since when did they start dividing museums up by race?

And then there's "Black History Month."  Seems like if we learned their history once, should we have to relearn it every year?  

And then there's the National Association of Black Accountants.  And the Association of Black Psychologists.  And the National Association of African-Americans in Human Resources.  And out of all such Black organizations, we have to feature the "Alliance of Black Jews."  

I have to ask, how does that come about?  Does one just desire to be persecuted in stereo?    

Speaking of which, if you are Black, and you were born here, why on Earth would you call yourself an "African-American?"  At least put "American" first, okay?  "American-African" has a nice ring to it, okay?  Or maybe just American?

And then there's the National Black Nurses Association.  And the National Council of Negro Women.  (There's that "Negro" again!).  And the National Society of Black Engineers.

Now then, I've looked long and hard and I cannot find the "White Entertainment Network."  Nor the "National Association for the Advancement of White People."  Nor the "National Association of European-Americans in Human Resources."  And I must have missed when the History Channel featured "White History Month."  

So am I daft for believing that subdividing our culture by race is a fools' errand?      

It seems to me that all minority groups have a certain number of the disaffected within their ranks.  And they use those groups to shout out their grievances.  That's how the LGBTQ21AAXYZ123+++ came into being.  A bunch of tiny groups massing together to gain clout.  And I get it.  

But tell me how dividing nurses into "Blacks" and "Other-than-Blacks" to create a convention makes any sense at all?  Do they practice medicine differently?  And do Black accountants use a separate kind of math?  Or do they just hate to be around White people?  

Just think: the Jews represent only about 7% of our population, yet they are fully integrated.  I might suggest that a "Black" minority of 16.7% is no longer a minority.  It's a large portion of our Human Stew.  Coming in a close third behind Hispanics.  Maybe they should start acting like it.    

I've done a rather exhaustive Google search and I cannot find more than a dozen organizations with the word "White" in their names.  And they're all on the FBI's Watch List.  And that same Google tells me there's more than 1,000 orgs with "Black" in their names.  Maybe it's up to them to change?  

In summartion, I frankly don't care what color they are.  But apparently they do...

"The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread."

My home town of Chillicothe, Missouri, is famous for two things:  

     First:  Baker Frank Bench and inventor Otto Rohwedder's machine sliced the very first loaf of bread in history.  Thus making Chillicothe famous forever more as the "Home of Sliced Bread."  

     Second:  I got drafted.  And therefore forcibly removed from this town I'd more or less terrorized for my entire life.  Because I obeyed its laws most of the time, unless I was behind the wheel of a car.  And then I was ungovernable.  Speed limits, schmeed limits!  I liked to go fast!  I shot a fantastic game of pool, and it paid me boucoup bucks.  And I used those bucks to buy fast cars.  And on girls and cheap beer.  And then unleash terror on the streets of this normally quiet town.

Example?  Sure.  I wrote a $3,802.12 check for a new 1962 Chevy Impala Super Sport, 409/409, 4-speed, posi-trac, Honduras Maroon, black bucket seats, gorgeous.  That was about 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning in Kansas City, about 92 miles away.  

I was back in town by early evening.  It was my 19th birthday and I was feeling all sporty like.  When a red light changed to green, I revved it a bit and dumped the clutch.  That resulted in a burn out of mythical porportions.  Figure 150 feet of black rubber.  Two black stripes.  In the middle of town.  I never exceeded the speed limit, but only because my 750:14 General Jet Airs could not gain traction.  After all, a 750 tire had about 4" of tread width.  Not good.  Especially since I did it all in full view of a police officer who just happened to be parked on the corner.  Not overly wise!

He wrote me a nasty ticket and I drove on.  "Careless and Imprudent," I think the ticket read.  They just didn't understand.  

It had been snowing the previous week, leaving patches of it all over the roads as is often the case in November.  That day had been mild, however, melting the snow traces off the highways.  So around midnight, after a nice evening of pool shooting and underage beer drinking and Hell raising, I deciding to blow the carbon out of my new 409 with a little top end run.  Out of town toward Ithica, 8 miles distant.  And I'll take you along for the ride.

Wide, elelvated four-lane, full moon, otherwise dark-dark, and not a car on the road.  I cooled it until the city limit marker was in my rear view mirror and then opened it up.  Two big Carter four-barrel carburetors began to sing.  "Muuwwwaaahhh!"  

Now, this bruiser was delivered with a 3:08 ratio rear end gearing, better suited for top end than drag racing.  I intended to change it out later for a 4:11, or maybe even a 4:56.  But on this evening, my very first evening, this ratio was just find with me.  

The now opened carburetors were wailing, sucking in gobs of the cold night air.  Through second gear, to third, chirping the tires, and up to fourth.  And then sit back and focus on the road ahead.  As the speedometer went past 90, 100, 110, 120, just about as fast as it took to write that.  And then it buried the needle on the bump stop.  Plus about 500 rpm.  

I'd guess 150 mph and 3 or 4 minutes of duration by the time I'd had enough.  As in, scared shi*less.  So I let it slow down of its own accord, dancing all over the road, which took a half-mile or so.  And it was only then I saw the red and blue lights flashing in my rear view mirror.

Patrolman Dick DeFreece of the Missouri Highway Patrol pulled me over.  Again.  He and I were old "friends" by then.  He'd stopped and ticketed me on several occasions prior to that evening.  And this one was to be the cherry on top.  When he came up to my window he started by thanking me for stopping, as there was no way he could have caught me in his Dodge.  I concurred.  And then he asked if I knew how fast I was going since he was too far away to pace me.  I said no, which was true, as my speedometer was buried.  He didn't bother to ask for my licence, he said, as he'd memorized my DL number.  He wound up ticketing me for 80-plus, which was like a Christmas gift.  

And then I went home and waited for the letter from the State, revoking my driving privileges.  For this was the 17th ticket I'd received in my short driving career.  I waited.  Months passed...

Our Chillicothe Constitition-Tribune newspaper blasted it across the front page.  "Sheriff Caught in Compromising Position."  It turns out they found bare female footprints on the inside of the windshield of Sheriff Kelsey Reeter's patrol car.  Seems he'd been, ummm, "serving and protecting" a Black hooker he frequented.  In his front seat.  And they found proof.  And he was sent packing.  In a town of 10,000, that's news enough to last a month!  

Epilogue:  Oh yeah, that letter from the State never arrived.  Turns out Sheriff Reeter was so busy "servicing" his hooker that he had no time to deal with tickets.  He'd been putting the copy of driving infractions which should be sent to the Jefferson City DMV, and putting them in the lower right hand drawer of his desk.  Mine, and everybody else's.  So the statute of limitations ran out for my tickets, and a lot of other folks.  Which also made the front page.  So those 17 tickets went "poof," and never showed up on my driving record.  

I got to start all over again, with a lesson learned.  This was called "dodging the bullet."  And although I got more than my share of tickets thereafter, I'd decided to pay more attention to the speed limits in the future.

More or less...

They Could Always Shoot His Plane Out of the Sky...

Well now, THAT didn't work.

And I'm guessing that was Plan "B."  They'd better go back to the drawing board real fast to figure out what comes next...

Because they have libeled him, and slandered him.

They have lied about his record.  They have called him a felon, and a rapist, and a crook, and "a threat to democracy!"  And called him Hitler.  And the embodiment of evil.  And incited their half of the Country to do something about it.    

They used O'Biden's Justice Department to weaponize the law against him.  Four separate "lawfare" charges were brought against him, and four separate trials.  Hoping to keep him bottled up in court instead of campaigning.  And to do their best to bankrupt him.

Bennie Johnson, the Democrat Chairman of the January 6 Committee, submitted legislation to remove his Secret Service protection.  Making it easier to "turn the page?"    

Their best and brightest have called for Trump to be eliminated.  The most dangerous and violent rhetoric against Trump has come from the likes of The View, and Morning Joe, and Liz Cheney, and Adam Kinzinger, and Nancy Pelosi, and CNN, and MSNBC, and Rob Reiner, and Stephen King, and Mark Hamill, and Rachel Maddow, and George Clooney, and the Lincoln Project, and Robert De Niro.  And Alexander Soros.  And Barack Obama.  And Hillary Clinton.  And scores more.  Dozens more!

And, of course, Joe O'Biden.

Just days ago death threats against Donald Trump were posted on "X" without any consequences.  An invitation?  A roadmap?  A "call to arms" from aggrieved Leftists? 

So what to do, what to do...

Aha!  Let's assasinate him!  Yeah, that's it!  Let's use one of our many fringe groups to snipe him at a rally.  Sort of a "grassy knoll, 2.0."  Trump's people knew his Secret Service Team was too small, and they'd asked for additional protection.  But Homeland Security Secretary Mayorkas had refused.  On multiple occasions.  Doing so made it easier for the likes of Antifa.  Or Black Lives Matter.  Or any other violent fringe element to kill Trump.  No doubt their preferred outcome.

Like Nancy Pelosi said only yesterday, "Donald Trump will never be President."  What did she know, and when did she know it?

Things are now going so well for O'Biden and the Democrats, they noticed, so let's turn the page.  Let's find a new opponent.  Let's get rid of this one.  We know that was their intention, because O'Biden said in a speech LAST NIGHT that they should stop screwing around.  It was time, he said, 

"...to aim for the bullseye!"

A signal?  Prophetic?  Just a coincidence?  Who knows, but I'm guessing if it doesn't get better for the O'Biden Campaign real soon,

...they could always shoot his plane out of the sky...