Monday, March 16, 2015
Friday, October 24, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
I have no clue if anyone even reads my blog anymore. I only had two regular readers and I think they are both locked in an asylum now.
Life has been interesting in the last 4 or so years. I have bought a new truck, sold both my old ones, had a child (well not actually me but my wife did – I helped) he is now 2, accumulated new friends, bought a ton of tools, and got into old garden tractors.
Today I spent my time outside in my workshop cleaning up the mess.
In the past few months I have bought 2 large toolboxes full of miscellaneous (spelling that word is the only thing I remember from accounting class in high school) tools and they were dumped into a pile in the floor.
After pushing the 80? Craftsman riding mower, that has been in my way for a year, out into the cold windy world I got busy cleaning. I have no idea how many screwdrivers I have now, but I think I could start a store selling them and become rich. After sorting through that pile I got sidetracked and started playing online on the shop computer.
While I was playing I found this blog again. So I will update it periodically. And someone may actually read it.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
1. Send all the reporters home. They aren't in America and they have no constitutional rights in a foreign country. If they want to stay there is no protection provided by the military. They are on their own.
2. If you shoot at our military you will die. So will the person standing on either side of you and the one behind you. If someone near you starts shooting at our troops you had better be moving for cover.
3. If you hide in a building to shoot at our military expect the entire building to be leveled. If you are a civilian and didn't shoot you had better hit the ground running or your dead. It doesn't matter what kind of building you are in. Church, school, mosque there is no where to hide.
4. This is a war. People get killed. Things get blown up. It is a dirty, stinking, rotten business and from time to time it must be done to keep the world safe enough to live in. War is hell – there is a reason people say that, there is nothing nice about it.
5.You have the right to complain, bad mouth, resent, protest, or otherwise dislike war, and that right will not be trampled on. But don't be surprised when your whining, sniveling, cowardly butt is scooped up in the middle of the night and dropped off in the war zone for a few days.
6. If you don't like this country, feel free to leave. We will even help you pack.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The survivors tell a story of horrific survival. Stories that would, and should break the heart of the most hardened person. The liberators tell the story of the discovery of the ovens, the gas chambers, the lamps and shades made of human skin, and the emaciated children.
I have seen the marks tattooed on the arms of the survivors. The hollow stare in their eyes as they speak of the conditions and friends lost. I have heard of stories of surviving only on weak soup and small pieces of stale bread. The sorrow of retelling of the loss of loved ones that they had to bury. The cruelty of their captors.
There is nothing joyful about the stories. There is no bright spot in the darkness.
But today I came across a video that was joyful. It was hopeful. It caused me to cry. It was a video of a survivor and his family dancing to “I Will Survive” in front of former death camps, on death trains, and in front of Memorials.
There was no bright spot then, but for those who survived the world is freedom. And for all of us there is hope.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Have you noticed lately that the trend for things has leaned to the far side of ridiculous? Everything “stylish” now seems to attempt to compensate for its owners need for attention of any kind. People are walking around with their teeth encapsulated in gold, their necks covered in gold chains. They wear outfits that look like Ray Charles picked them out of the discard pile at Goodwill. Huge sunglasses that completely obliterate any hope of peripheral vision. And they think it is cool. I often wonder what these people will grow up and become then I see that some of them are already adult aged.
But then I see something that hits close to home. I am a car nut, a gear head, a wrench slinger. If it has an engine - I love it. The different styles, designs, and brands of automobiles are a wonderful cornucopia of wheeled art to my eyes. And, to see what people are doing to these mobile Mona Lisas is deplorable.
Driving past a business in Charlotte I am tempted to close my eyes so I cannot see the bright metallic candy green 1966 Lincoln Continental sitting on 24 inch rims with rubber-band tires. It ranks right up with putting a Tyrolean hat and big nosed novelty glasses on Rodin's “The Thinker. It just isn't right.
On one web site I saw a video of some poor undereducated, disrespectful youths who had taken a rare Buick Grand National and put it on 22 inch tires and equipped it with hydraulics to make it lift up and down. My first reaction was to get a big stick and go explain to them why they should never deface my all time #1 dream car. It is bad enough to rape a Honda, or Hyundai – but the car that single handedly put Buick as the head of the performance class for General Motors in the 80's – Beyond despicable.
However, today I saw one of these “donkified” monstrosities that put a smile on my face. On I-85 in Charlotte a donked mid 80s square bodied Caprice came down an on ramp followed by a Ford Crown Victoria. The Vic was fully equipped – state trooper lettering, blue lights, and sirens. I don't know what the car was pulled over for, but I can only dream that among the charges, somewhere, the driver was cited for blatant stupidity, and ruining a great riding old car. Also, in my dream the cop wacks the driver with his baton before walking back to the patrol car.
The first is dedicated to my wife, Stephanie. I never thought anyone would come into my life and fill it the way you have. You are truly, "An Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground". I love you even if I don't say it enough.