Where's My Check?

I can't leave yet! Damned hurricanetornado thing come to close afore my check. Done spent my goubment check on stuff lass week. Gotsta have new nike's, man, mine's dirty. Sumbody neeeds to pay for these new shoes this muddy water done messed up!

How Far We've Fallen

MrsJACIII and I rode the Mothership part way down the Natchez Trace from Nashville, Tn. yesterday and it put the deadbeats in New Orleans into sharp contrast with the MEN who formerly occupied this land in great numbers.
The Trace is 440 miles of road that generally follows the route farmers WALKED from Natchez Mississippi to get back home after floating downstream hundreds of miles to deliver the fruits of their labors to a market consolidation point.
These men would undertake a month long journey on foot, braving wild injuns, bears, snakes, storms, and highwaymen to get home. The slugs in New Orleans wouldn't walk out past the bypass to get food, water, or a place to shit.

And I thought I was hard on the Hardley guys...

Concisely put for those who don't get it:

My Ninja was powered by a 599cc (36 cubic inch) in-line four cylinder engine that was liquid cooled and had a high capacity oil cooler. It was the most compact, most powerful, most advanced 600cc engine currently in production on the planet at that time and received many accolades for its design from the major motorcycle publications. The compact engine produced ninety seven horsepower, a twin intake ram air setup with pressurized air box bumped that to probably another five percent additional power when under speed. Ninety-seven horsepower was a far cry from the outdated, air cooled irrigation pumps that powered the bikes that Milwaukee was producing. Eighty-eight cubic inches thumping out a laughable fifty something horsepower was about the most power you could get if you went with the best that America could build.

Now, to put into perspective, on a power output to engine size ratio, the Kawasaki's motor made ninety-seven horses out of a miniscule thirty-six cubic inches. That would be the equivalent of having a 350 cubic inch small block Chevy under your hood that made 944 horsepower from the factory, stock.

Black Echo


BrandX be forewarned, it gets pretty ugly.

disclaimer:
I HAVE met fellas who own Hardley's and actually ride. No, I don't mean up and down mainstreet, around and around the Walmart parking lot, or back and forth in front of the local high school, but a few hundred miles at a time actually going somewhere. There ain't many, but they are out there. You can spot 'em sometimes, they're usually old (like me), their bikes are dirty ('cause they ride 'em), and all the little and big things that must be done to get a Hardly down the road reliably have been done (they idle real slow - not just loud - without dieing at stoplights.)

Cowboy Up!

Me and a buddy, Jamie, shod 27 horses and one miniature donkey today, only 3 had to be tranquilized, 3 required swift kicks to the ribs, 4 needed stud chains, 2 got their ears damn near twisted off, and one required IV tranquilization, its ear twisted damn near off (lifted me off the ground w/ said ear), rib kicked, and the wooden handle of a 17 inch steel rasp bent upon its head. Craziest damn horse I've ever seen.

At one stop we worked on a man's horses for 2 1/2 hours, wrote him a bill for $500.00 and he called to thank us for the work we did.

I trimmed two horses on a horse farm big as most counties, with stables the size of mini malls and had a chick from Uraguay holdin' horse for me while a mexican handed me tools like I was in the OR (You end up really workin' your ass off when people hand you tools! I didn't know that.)

After all that I came home and rode BoJack the formerly unridable mustang who has to date thrown his previous owner and six men who break horses for a living. Whoo Hoo!

Jamie went on to fix one more dead lame horse w/o me before he called it a night. That's not dead and lame, but dead lame like deadlame or really very lame. You get it.

As you can probaly tell I'm thinkin' I'm a badass right about now.

'Nite Y'all!

Laughed My Ass Off

Vox on Hillary:

They will, once she finishes slithering through the water flooding the streets, devouring the dead as they float past her.

ALL HAIL THE LIZARD QUEEN!
VD | 08.31.05 - 12:41 pm

Global Eminent Domain

Expect to see similar soon:

The world's environment has long been put at risk by the excessive energy consumption of the United States and the recent tsunami and hurricane Katrina are but two examples of the coming onslaught the United State's irresponsible behavior has brought to the future of our children. Further, global shortages in energy due to the increasing incidence of catastrophic natural phenomena have put the world economy at risk and endangered the safety and well-being of billions its citizens the world over.

The United States has proven incapable of governing itself to the extent it is unable to reduce toxic waste, pollution, greenhouse emissions, and overdevelopment thereby placing the very existence of this planet in jeopardy. As such, we, The United Nations, must take steps to reign in the unsustainable rates of consumption and emissions of the United States. If the United States will not voluntarily, in concert with responsible nations the world over, control its disproportionate consumption and irresponsible energy practices it must be forced to control them. For the children. For our future.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory!....

oops! Wrong mega maniacal nation-state war of conquest.

You Heard it Here First

What are they doing to stem the flood in N'awlins? Same thing Bobby Lee did to preserve the St. Louis waterfront as an Army Corps Engineer before the War Agianst Northern Aggression.

Gregg,
Bobby Lee, in his early army career at the COE, diverted the Mississippi away from a part of the ST. Louis wterfront by strategicly sinking rock laden barges. I'm thinkin' barges preloaded and sunk along the wall would be a good way to slow the thing down.
JACIII 08.30.05 - 6:14 pm

Hope it works!

Finally Found Someone to Take Up for the Hardley Riders, er... Owners.

Q :What does a jap bike and a disposable diaper have in common?
A: they"re made of plastic, loaded wih shit, and hazardous waste once they are disposed of.
Brand X

This is a good example because it has no basis in truth whatsoever.

1) Jap bikes (and German and Brit and Italian and probably even Korean and Chinese) are miles ahead of Hardley in quality except for what matters to Hardley owners - chrome plated shiny bits. There are no Hardleys out there with 100,000 miles without having at least having the heads pulled.

2) Sportbikes do carry much plastic body work (as Buells) to keep your ass on the bike at triple digit speeds, but Jap bikes built for a comparable purpose to a Hardley carry none. I recently went riding with Frank who rides a RoadStar 1700. We stopped at a gas station and a fella came over to look at his bike. He owned a Hardley (was he riding it?, of course not) and asked Frank if his fenders were plastic. ???? The Roadstar is a superior machine to any of Hardley's "big" bikes anyway you slice it. Hardley owners simply don't know any better.

3) Loaded with shit. Yeah, if 'shit' means 'THE Shit' as in horsepower and torque, titanium valves and brakes to stop a battleship. Hardley components are 1970's era technology. Remember Ford Pinto's, AMC Gremlin's, Chevrolet Vega's?? You get the picture. Single solid rotor front disc brakes: Hardley admits they don't put good brakes on their bikes 'cause it would scare first time riders. There are Jap 600cc bikes out there with DOUBLE the horsepower of 1200cc and bigger Hardleys that are bulletproof reliable.

4) I see alot of Hardleys for sale with ridiculous asking prices. They don't get 'em. Pick up any Cycle Trader type sale magazine. There are 50 pages of Hardleys in there no one will buy. Go price a good used GoldWing, FJR1300, Hayabusa,CBR1100XX, ST1100, ST1300, VFR800.. You get the picture.

In conclusion these guys simply don't know any better. Most are old fat men who still think it is 1965 when Hardley made 'big power' compared to Triumph and Norton; maybe 30HP in race trim. A new 50cc Vespa would outrun 'em. They're better now; some even have 60HP! %0 years of R&D and the got a whopping 30 HP to show for it. Of course, a Kawasaki ZX6R (600cc) pushes 110HP. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Earth calling the braindead!

Next!

***************** FLASH ******************

"Mother nature has gotten out of control!"

-Susan Estrich
Commenting to Sean Hannity on New Orleans

I guess we had nature under control...... when, exactly?

Queeners are Ass Deep into the Methodist Church

Minister Fired for Denying Practicing Queener Church Membership


You see how this happens don't you? No?

First you have to have a bunch pantywaist men being led around by the 'women' in the church. After the chicks get tired of naggin' the menfolk into doing things, they decide they should get to be 'officially' in charge and nag the menfolk into that. Sure, there are men out there who don't even have to be nagged, who hold no conviction about their beliefs or faith and see no harm in lettin' women preach and run things even though the Bible warns against this. A man with no spine in a more sane time was commonly said to have a 'feminine mind' not refering to his sexuality. After the Oprah set gets a foothold you'd better believe it will damned sure go straight to shit.

The Bishop "Charlene" is referenced in the article. Nothing less than a grassroots purge will save this "church" from extinction. Put a fork in 'em. They're done.

That "I" thing.

Y'all see I've got a graphic below of Hank. To me Hank is what country music was, is, and should forever be. There's nothin' like that twanging voice breaking just right. And the subject matter; women, whiskey, whinin', and "don't give a damn" songs. Perfecttion.

Example: "There's a tear in my beer, 'cause I'm cryin' for you dear."

Now, that's density of subject matter! But, I digress.

Hank's boy is a fine Southern icon, and his grandson finally got his shit together sounding eerily like THE Hank. But, them boys are tryin' to do what the Grandaddy done by nature, and the tale is told in the "I"'s. Every so often in his progenies' songs they break out with that damned yankee "Iyee". Sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard and there are otherwise fine songs that I cannot listen to due to this abomination.

There are some places in the South where the two pronunciations coexist though not interchangeably. Example: "It's right there, dammit!" right is pronounced with the correct Southern i while "That's right, Bubba, we should shoot that yankee bastard." may be pronounced with the yankee i.

It ain't hard to tell when a feller grew up in L.A. and is tryin' to fake our local dialect or he's putin' on airs tryin' to sound high-falutin' (Anyone think sounding like a buckeye makes you sophisticated?) though I'm sure they think we can't tell the difference.
Know what I say?
phwwwit!
That's what I say.

Three Lies Told by Harley Riders

1. I won this here belt buckle in a rodeo!
2. That there's my HOG and it's paid for!
3. Honest, officer, I was just "helping" that sheep
over the fence.

Everyone else is a wannabe

'nuf said.

That's Not a Mother

What's that psycho bitches name.. Sheehan? Don't expect the usual, "She has a right to say....because of her son's death." bullshit to appear here. Let me tell you what this nut is about.

She's one of those ubercontrolling wive's/mothers. She's one of those that wants everything her way and uses every emotional trick in the book to get it. If things don't go the slightest bit her way she broods, fumes, plots, and metes out punishment.

She's a nutcase liberal and her poor son had to grow up listening to that crap his whole life. She probably tried to make him into a panty-waist liberal cocksucker and he had to join the army to get out of her clutches. She's a control freak.

She doesn't miss him. She doesn't grieve for him. She uses him. She's contorting the meaning of his death in direct contradiction to the meaning of the gift he gave in the sacrifice of his young life. She dishonours his memory intentionally, because she's furious he defied her. This is her retribution. She's a bitch.

Dial-a-Nag

This is not directed at Gregg, though Gregg and Welldigger are, indeed, the genesis of the idea.

Occasionally the single men among us get carried away with a train of thought or pursue a question or point way past relevancy or pertinence; i.e. they go off the deep end. When this happens I always get to thinkin', "If these fella's had a wife/steady girlfriend they wouldn't have the time to cause a ruckus or go around appearing disconnected from reality. What they need is some woman tellin' 'em what they should be doing all the time." Just like me. Just like Nate. Just like Vox, and Bane, and Res, and.......you know know who you are.

I can't remember if Res Ispa or I came up with the idea so let's just say Res did so he'll get the blame. I'll tell Mrs. JACIII it was all his doing, but the gist of it is that we set Gregg or Welldigger up with a 1-900 number and when our wives feel like naggin' someone we have them call Gregg or Digger. It's for their own good, really. Gregg and Digger get what they deserve...er, uh...need and we get some relief for the paltry sum of , say, .25 per minute.


Res has fleshed this out a bit more:

JAC,
I think we need to develop the dial a nag idea more. We could be missing out on a million dollar business idea. Dial a nag and dialanag.com could fill the niche for men who think they want to be married but want to try it first. If we do it right, we can charge men to use it, and we could charge women to do the nagging. I’m thinking we could have a nag a therapy business too. We’d get women that are mad about whatever to set by the phone and when an unsuspecting guy calls in they can lay into him about what ever their husband hasn’t done yet. It’s truly a win win.
Res Ipsa

We may be onto something here...

Just a heads up for y’all:

Expect some changes ‘around here. I’m gettin’ weary of the pirate motif, I still dig my Gravatar but I’m getting’ that wanderlust again. All this motorcycle talk I reckon.

I’ll still be sailin’ and campin’ on available weekends - weather permitting. But the heart in yer throat, gleam in yer eye call of high horsepower to weight ratios is becoming unbearable.

I’ve been good – I sported my bride around Tennessee on the Mothership, I took my girls on maritime adventures – but, well, ya' see....

I spotted this GL1800 a half mile ahead of me on the parkway yesterday. Ol' Big Red just grabbed my right wrist and twisted it WFO. The geezerglide was in the process of passing someone as I closed on it. The hairs on the back of that old man's neck must have stood right up, cause he gunned it. Been watchin’ too much Orange County Hospital,er... choppers I reckon. Why, I had to shift into 3rd gear to make the ‘whump’ sound as I went by!

Ouch.

Bet that left a mark.

Guest Blogger - The New Guy : Riding the Dragon and other goings on

After waiting about an hour or so for Jim and his lovely wife, following Rainman we moved on towards Knoxville (which we were supposed to have passed hours ago) in order to get to Gatlinburg. After leaving Richmond at 9:15 AM we arrived in Gatlinburg at 5:30 to check into a chalet for a night so the 9 of us could have an enjoyable evening together before attempting to tame the Dragon on Saturday. Upon checking in we discovered that the original cost that was quoted to us had hidden charges that amounted to an extra hundred dollars, we decided to go ahead and get the place we had called about and take our chances on it being worth the money we were about to spend.

Rainman and his lovely wife, Big Yamaha,

(ed - we generally don't refer to each other's wives as "Big" anything. Not sure what he's getting at here...)

and his lovely wife, and The New Guy trekked up the mountain Ober Gatlinburg to find our new found love nest and to our surprise we found a place that was worthy of every penny we had spent for it. The place had a bedroom for everyone, hot tug, Jacuzzi bath, fire place, pool table and more, if you are looking for a place to stay in Gatlinburg call the ERA rental office and get the Stagecoach Stop, and you will truly enjoy it.

After moving around a bit to check out our new environment we found that Robinsonville and his young bride had caught up with us (they left the Paris area about 2:00 PM and were there by 6:00 PM.). Tim and Jill settled in and then the 4 biker MEN decided to go down the mountain a bit to pick up some refreshments for the night, off we rode.

The guys bought all that we though might be consumed that night and moved back to our love nest (I us that term for Rainmain) so we could decide on dinner arrangements.

The group decided that we would like a steak so down the mountain we descended to Peddlers to get a great steak, salad and to watch 2 women make out on the porch in front of us. We all ate dinner then rode back up the mountain to the Love Nest

Upon returning the Love Nest the guys went down stairs to play pool and watch TV while the women built a fire because they were cold and enjoyed a movie on the 1st floor.

Rainman and The New Guy took on Robinsonville and Big Yamaha and was no match for the Luck that Robinsonville spilled onto the table so they beat the pants off of Rainman (which worked out great for him) and The New Guy.

And Now, The Rest of the Story....

Having safely negotiated the exit we headed off down some very nice back roads. The apparent temperature dropped immediately and we welcomed the cooler air. We commenced winding our way South at a steady minimum pucker factor pace (we brought the women, OK?!). As a group these guys are pretty fast cruiser riders and most cruiser riders with less than many thousand miles of asphalt under their tires find it unnerving to try and keep up. I generally ride my GPz and run off and leave ‘em without trying, but this day I had my hands full on the ½-ton Mothership negotiating switchbacks with these grizzled graying proto-squids.

We came to a stop sign and Rainman made it clear he was going to need fuel soon. All concurred and we pulled into the nearest store with pumps, a grocery/hardware store/fuel stop.

Two things should have set off alarm bells.
1) The clerk was having major trouble operating the computer/cash register/ scanner machine. He was getting it done, but man he was slow. Not halting but SLOW like he was overloaded.
2) There was a tanker truck in the lot. NEVER, EVER, EVER buy fuel when there is a fuel delivery being made. At best the fuel in the bottom of the tank is old and dirty, at worst the new stuff has kicked up all the sediment from the bottom and you just pumped it into your tank.
3) I was thinking, “Man the ol’ Mothership sure is runnin’ great!”

We all partook of refreshments inside, Sundrop!, and saddled up. The road got really twisty from here on and 180 degree switchbacks with 10 foot elevation changes were the order of the day. While merrily negotiating some of these the Mothership backfires, clears and goes on. Hmmmmm. A few miles later and the same thing occurs but this time it slowly sputtered to a halt. Shit!

I noticed I had extremely dim indicator lights on the dash. No power. Frank came back and borrowed Jumper cables from a nearby house and hooked ‘em to his RoadStar which was starting to backfire from bad gas. We got the Mothership running and I took off for a gas station the fellas had spotted up ahead. While I was running for the station before it died again my jacket fell off the back. No biggie the rest are right behind me, they’ll get it.

I made it to the station and when they pulled in behind there was no sign of the jacket. I commented it was odd someone would be that quick driving by snatching something like that. Apparently not. As my wife and I were waiting for the tow truck we saw a boat being hauled by when a cushion fell out. Immediately the car next car slowed and the driver snatched it off the pavement without even stopping. Must be the local income generating activity. Next to ‘earning’ disability that is.

We had taken a wrong turn, well…. Rainman had, and ended up northeast of Knoxville in Maynardville, TN. Folks I am not exaggerating when I tell ya’ the menfolk looked like OakRidge had dumped nuclear waste in the area. They all had a blank, tilted look, at least one limb twisted or held oddly, gimped in some way, and plenty of tattoos. They were scaring my wife, so I reminded her I had eight .45s in each magazine and one in the pipe with which to play zombie killer if the opportunity presented itself. No such luck.

The other riders in our group deserted us like the heartless bastards I know them to be. (Actually, I had a hell of a time gettin’ ‘em to leave. I think Frank just wanted to see the .45 again.). People in Maynardville talk like they live 50 miles out of Knoxville, them what talks that is. We found we were about 10miles out if that. We completed our three hour wait for the incompetent tow truck driver and grabbed a motel in Knoxville. Next day we got a rental car and came home to get the trailer to bring the Mothership home.

I have to say I have yet to see a more dim, unfriendly, put off, bunch of ‘tards as what occupies east Tennessee in all my born days. Welldigger spoke thusly of these folk in the past and I discounted it as disgust with a particular person or small group colouring his perception, I was wrong. I know a lot of country folk, hell I AM country folk! I know a lot of hill folk, too, and most would give the shirt off their backs to help someone in need and most are a fair hand mechanically. But these sons of bitches just look at ya’ with those “no one’s home” glass eyes. I don’t sense they got much more than plant level awareness going on. If I ever happen there again I‘ll shoot the first hobblin' cocksucker looks at me that way and figure a ride by shootin’ and a drive by thievin’ makes us even.

The rest of the group had a good, though wet ride. I don’t suppose I can get any of ‘em to write their travelin’ up as they don’t go in for such highbrow doin’s.

Everything above is gospel and you'll go to hell for disputin' it.

Ride Report : The Dragon that Wasn't

The Mothership is up for sale and old men are beatin' my door down for it so I thought I would take it out w/ the wife one last time. That's what it's for after all.
We planned a ride with the womenfolk leaving Friday morning for Deal's Gap so we met up on I75 and turned South on HWY25. Two lanes are generally more fun even on the Mothership.
We stopped in Corbin at TriCounty Cycles to look at the Iron Horse bikes there and that buttugly Honda Rune. Actually, The rest of 'em went inside while I stayed with the bikes repairing the intercom cable my wife chewed in two. OK, she didn't actually CHEW it. Near as I can tell she closed her helmet hinge on it. Got it working, though, with the donation of some electrical tape from a salesman. Trip Saved!

Back on the road we hit stoplight hell and bailed to the interstate. Ahhh! The open road. I put her on 90 and the rest of the group sorta kept up with the newest rider, Dave, doing nicely on my six. As we neared Knoxville I slowed to close ranks and let Rainman, who professed to know a better way to Gatlinburg, lead. Rainman immediately wedged himself into trafic. Now, I've ridden a lot with him and know his habits so I stayed just behind the cluster of cars/trucks he had wedged himself into preparing to exit.

This is an art so pay attention:

The object of the game is to not be so close to the leader that you miss the exit, too, but close enough that some of the other's miss it as they struggle to close ranks through traffic.

Wait for it.... wait..wait.... There he goes! Rainman dove across two lanes of traffic for the exit with me on his taillight. Dave and Frank were out in the cold, but managed via a death defying maneuver in front of an 18 wheeler to make the exit. The ulimate payoff didn't materialise with cellphone calls and ridicule to the lost wandering exit missers as they try to find the rest of the group. However, Dave and Frank definately had the BUGEYES (see image) as we came to a stop at the end of the exit ramp!
More to follow. I have to clue folks in on the freaks Digger warned me about in east Tennessee.

No doubt kin to Mario!

Adult Content

You were warned.

Thoughts to Fall Back On

Things aren't going good. You've come so far, but Problems are Multiplying. No ready solution presents itself. Frustration Mounts. Brain cascades into the blue screen of death and you slide into the Psychotic State of trying the Same Thing over and over and over with the same Bad Result. Been there done that?

Sometimes you just gotta hit the RESET button. All people have is belly buttons so instead of staring at yours in despair take a step back, get yer head up, bum a Marlboro or a chaw, look around and RESTART from some basic truths to unlock yer conundrum.

Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

You only need three tools: WD-40, Duct Tape, and a Hammer. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If the WD-40 doesn't work apply Hammer liberally.

If it sticks out and it shouldn't, bend it. If it still sticks out apply Hammer liberally. If it doesn't stick out enough straighten it.

If it misbehaves, whack it. If it still misbehaves apply Hammer liberally.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You get another chance.

Be really nice to your family and friends; you never
know when you might need them to empty your bedpan.

Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

Additions and revisions:

Always Lookin' Out for Little Brother

Mario the Matador

I get a lot of farrier calls to rehabilitate miniature horses, miniature donkeys, adopted BLM jacks, and ponies. It seems these are in the catagory of "pets" and a lot of folks buy them without researching proper care.

I would like to introduce one such criter. His name is Mario and he is a miniature donkey. Never heard of such? Well, picture a donkey whose back is only as high as the desk at which you are now sitting but with full sized donkey ears. They are adorable, with very open, eager, expressive personalities. They do, however, have a "dark side".

When I was called upon to treat Mario his present owner had found him running the highway with feet horribly overgrown, twisted, and misshapen. The little fella was in a lot of pain and uncomfortable at all times. I was impressed my Mario's willingness to tolerate this discomfort stoicly as I worked on him; at one point he just sat back on his haunches and presented his front hooves for me to work on. Needless to say the little trooper stole my heart and I have endeavored to bring him back to 100% soundness since that day. I am happy to report Mario is about 90% sound as of today and I expect by fall he will be 100% if there is no permanent soft tissue damage.

I commented to the owner , Bobbi, the first day I saw Mario that he had a great personality. She looked at me strangely and said, "There's more to Mario than what he's showing you."

JACIII - "Really? This little fella?"

B - "Oh, yeah, he's quite a little demon when he wants to be."

JACII - "Mario, have you been misbehaving?" No respone from Mario.... "What's he been gettin' into?"

B - "Well, we didn't have a seperate pasture for him when we found him so we put him out with the cows. I just couldn't imagine him having trouble with them. You should have seen him! I wish I had video! He attacked the cows!"

JACII - "No. He didn't. Did he get hurt?"

B - "Huh! He ran everone of them into the pond and wouldn't let them out. I just left him in there. I thought surely by morning he would get tired of harassing the cows, but when I got up he still had 'em in there and would charge any that tried to get out!"

JACII - "What did you have to do?"

B - "I thought, 'I'll fix you, Mario', turned the bull out, went to work and didn't think anything else of it."

JACIII - "Oh, well he looks like he came out OK."

B - "Well.. You're not gonna believe this, but Jimmy (her husband) saw it, too. When I came home I went to check on Mario. He was hanging on the bulls neck. He bit that bull on the neck on was just dangling there!"

JACII - "No. Mario? Mario bit The Bull. Like a bulldog."

B - "Yes!, I was afraid he was going to KILL it. I had to go out there and pull him off that bull! I literally had to DRAG him out of that field, he fought me the whole way! I had to tie him behind the house where he couldn't see them before he would calm down."

I looked at Mario, a bit more wary than when we first met. I haven't seen any sign of Mario's megalomaniacal episode resufacing, but I damn sure don't let his mouth anywhere near my neck.

Self Explanatory

What Fun!

cedarfordsucks

Highbrow Poetry.....

I'm not one to wilfully raise the level of discourse above potty jokes, but I came across these on the Kawasaki GPZ (one of the motorcycles in my stable) email list. To put it gentley, the population of posters on this list is a bit long in the tooth, though technically astute, accomplished riders who have logged a lot of miles.

I hope no one is unduly traumatized by the realization there are people like this on our public roads.

The following is by '1KPerDay' whose handle refers to the IronButt ride Nate and I have bragged incessantly about.

"Oh, blast," I once sighed, steaming mad,
"My tire's flat! I can't ride! This is bad!"
But I gathered my strength,
Filled my lungs their full length,
And then pumped up the tire with my nads.
:D
Utah Jeff
'96 SheePz1100

This is a celebration of non-rosy cheeks. You can imagine the ribbing this guy takes for 'riding' sheepskin. It's even funnier when you realize there is damn near an entire hide laid across his tank and seat!

A sheep, though not warm as a yeti,
Offers more than just lamb with spaghetti,
For the skin, not the meat,
When applied to my seat,
Keeps my buttocks from getting all sweaty. :D

-- Utah Jeff '96 SheePz1100

Gregg, I thought of you when I read the first one.

There's no money in this

but it's fun anyway.





This is a Courting Candle. It is used as a timer for when one's daughter has a gentleman caller. After one's daughter and the gentleman caller are seated in the parlor, a candle is placed within the spiral and the wooden dowel is used to elevate or lower the candle above the top winding. When the candle burns down to the top winding it is time for the gentleman to depart. A father must periodically check on the candle thereby keeping an eye on the two and preventing any sparking.
No, it is not a spring, nor was it ever a spring. I decorated it as a vine complete with a leaf on the end to serve as a base. This piece is made from a length of straight 3/8" steel rod, forge fire, hammer, and anvil.




This is a modified design of a Celtic Cross. This piece is made from a length of 3/8" square bar stock. There is no welding, drilling, or drifting used in making this cross even though it has an open center. It is one piece of steel. Women love them.

Nothing like a good strokin'

I'm talkin' about ego here. Put your filthy minds in neutral.

Miss Sarah is one of my most faithful clients. She has had anywhere from 2 to 5 horses at any given time, alway bakes me cookies, pays in cash, is from North Carolina, attractive for a middleaged woman, and just as sweet as can be.

She has always had one horse named "Bucky" who is good for the most part, but has been known to cut a shine on occasion. Well, last time I was out there Bucky was cuttin' one. I bore down and held on and he settled down, but I knew he wasn't through. He started up again and I still managed to keep his foot. Then, just to let him know I didn't appreciate his attitude I shoved him bodily against the fence (I was under a front leg).

Miss Sarah: "See there, Bucky? Better straigten up, you're messin' with 'real' cowboy!"

I ain't exactly ridin' bulls, but I'll take it. I promise not to lord the fact that I have been declared a 'real' cowboy over my brothers.

I'll just have to make sure I don't let an ARRGH! slip while I'm at Miss Sarah's.

I wonder what I have to do to be declared a 'real' pirate? I've got the wench ravishing down pretty good.....

So here I am, minding my own business....

sort of, and SpaceBunny comes along and whacks me upside the head:

Does anyone else find the idea of a farrier Pirate amusing or is it just me?
Spacebunny | 07.27.05 - 7:49 am

I'm just getting in touch with my inner scoundrel. Is that so wrong?

On this subject: a bit of synchronicity. I have been watching all my favorite 'sea' movies since I started sailing and 'Pirates of the Caribbean' was up Sunday night. The last line of the last scene is applicable here. I'm not postin' it. It's a fun movie - watch it again, bearing in mind that "blacksmith" is a common reference to a farrier.


Stand up there, ye scurvy pony, or I'll feed ya' to the sharks!
ARRGH!

Must be a Record

This must be the busiest "old" post I have ever seen. There are periods of three posts per minute!

Man Down!

I went ridin' today. Got Big Red out on the road with with a group of 4 cruisers and a V-Max. Yes, I tried it. Yes, I can take it.
The Vmax rider and I rundoft and left the cruiserboys so we had to stop periodically and wait on 'em. We stopped at one point and waited, and waited, and waited... Hmmmmmmmmmm. Better go back.

Sure enough. Man down. An older Gent who rides with us from time to time and is a very good rider went down on a curve and had intimate relations with the guard rail. We got him up, got the bike up and headed down the road, and went on our way. He's shook up a bit, and it could have been much worse had he not been wearing PROTECTIVE GEAR. Granted he only had on a helmet, gloves, and boots, but those cover the places where he had no injury. Not even a scratch. Take away the helmet and he talks funny and shits himself
the rest of his life.

Two of the other cruiser guys had not worn helmets. They expressed that they felt naked after watching someone go down.


There are two kinds of riders: Those who have been down, and those who are gonna go down.

Dress for the fall, not the ride. They are trying to kill ya'.

ARRGH!

Felony Z01

Anbody can tell me what a Z01 or Z52 is gets a popsicle.

12 years ago.....

Bad day at work. I'm pissed, I'm frustrated, I'm ready to rip somebodies head off. Phuk it! I'm goin' out for dinner. I step out into the cool evening and spot my Corvette waiting all alone in bumphuq as if the mercuries, fords, and plymouths are taking no chances. It's graceful, it's gorgeous, and it's brutal. The targa is stowed away letting it's curvaceous form look crouched, set, coiled. That's just my game in this frame of mind.

I open the long door and slide down into the white leather seat, grip the thick white leather wheel, depress the clutch, and guide the stick into neutral. Of course it's a stick; what am I a secretary? I take a deep breath as it rumbles to life. I ease down the parking lot since it is bad form to leave black stripes on company property, and so as to not cause someone to mention such a thing for I would surely execute them on the spot.

I almost escaped when this young fella comes running out of the building waving his arms. I drove by, but I saw his early twenties crestfallen giulless face in the mirror and felt bad about it so I stopped. He ran up, "Where you goin'?" I mumbled a resturant name and he got in.

I listened tolerantly as he told me it was his first ride in a Corvette. We exited the parking lot. I came to a stop sign at the intersection just outside the automatic gate, when he asked, "Is this thing supposed to be fast? I think my bother's trans am is faster...." That brought a smile to my face. Not the happy kind, no, the "Boy, you just fucked up!" kind.

I immediately executed a clean gate turn onto the side street in a cloud of tire smoke, focused on the street ahead and let 'er wail. I grabbed second gear while the tires were still spinning, the vette was still sideways, and pinned the accelerator to the floor figuring we were set for 85 mph and held on. I scanned for children as we rocketed down the lane and chose a spot on the curve near the end of the street to shift. The kid stopped breathing. He grabbed the dash. I made the mark and hit that magic button (Z52 hint)that jumps three gears and continued accelerating. As soon as I saw the kid go white at the sight of the intersection approaching at over 100mph I hit that magic button again and stomped the brakes until all four tires were trying the antilock system. Hauled 'er down about three feet past the stop sign. Not bad; if I do say so myself.

I'll never forget what the kid said as I selected first and eased through the intersection.

"Hey, man! Are you OK? Is something the matter?"
"No, Why?" I asked offhandedly.
"'Cause I'd like to have kids before I die!"

I see that fella around sometimes. He thinks I'm crazy. I can't imagine why.

ARRGH!

Our New Maritime Address

We have been trying out area lakes for their suitability for sailing this summer. I have sailed Cave Run , Cumberland, and this weekend Green River Lake. Happily the closest, most pictureque, and least utilized of the three has the best wind, so barring a trip to Kentucky Lake or Lake Barkley we will be spending boat time at Green River Lake.


Here are my girls hamming it up after we anchored the boat off a nice pea-gravel shore conveniently located at the campground where our trusty motorhome awaited.

It's a pirate's life for me. Arrgh!

Pirate Flag Spotted by Bill

Is it just me or does that look like a reticle alignment aid to anyone else?

ARRGH!

For the record:

Nate,



This is a cutlass NOT a scimitar.

ARRGH!

Now THAT'S Sailin'!

For those who know: Note the Main is reefed and there is still no hull touching water. She's completely on plane!

A sailing hydrofoil. Whooda thunk?!

ARRGH! and Double ARRGH!

Just so you don't think the assheads haven't been tryin'....

There is a sailing site I check into often that deals primarily with racing, but everything else gets thrown in, too. It's a hoot and the folks there are at least as odd as the 'C-triad'.

This is from the forum there concerning conversations overheard on the marine radio (That'll be VHF fer ye landlubbers, ARRRGH!) by a sailor who shall remain anonymous:

This was a few years ago, just after 911. A Canadian warship burst in calling for a ship to identify itself. The Canadian crewperson, a young woman , proceeded with a litany of questions for the ship which the radio person answered in strange, almost too perfect, English, beginning each transmission with a nervous ?yes yes??

The the ship was a 600 ton oil-tanker due into New York in two days, registry port of Kingston, Jamaica. After the questions, the Canadian warship signaled its intention to board the vessel and asked the tanker to slow to 8 knots. No answer and dead air for a couple of minutes. The young woman on the Candian warship again announced its intention to board and requested the ship slow to 8 knots, through a rope ladder over the starboard side, have papers ready, and have all crew identification ready. The tanker finally replied and the man with the automated English voice said that the ship would not slow down and would not comly. He claimed they had to make their June 20 delivery date in New York and since they had boarded recently, they didn't need to be boarded again. Silence.

Once again the young female navy voice requested that the oil tanker slow to 8 knots and again was met with silence. After a couple more times, the automated voice from the tanker asked what authority the Canadian warship had to board? The warship responded citing a US Canadian Treaty, this time with a much sterner more mature female voice. After another request was met with silence, the stern female declared that if the tanker did not comply, the warship would be forced to file 50 mm warning shots across its bow, but hoped it would not come to that. More silence.

This time the captain of the warship made the request. This time, another, more frantic voice with a noticeable accent answered from the tanker stating that the ship would not comply. After a lot of back and forth, the warship captain started a 2 minute countdown that ended in 10-9-8-7....3-2-1 fire!. Silence.

This time the stern woman's voice made the boarding request and again was met with silence. This time she indicated that the warship would fire 500 yards across the bow. "Clear your decks of all personnel," she said. This time, as the countdown progressed, the mic was left keyed and we could plainly hear the sounds of guns over the radio.

The tanker quickly broke radio silence. They yelled that they were on the phone with their agent in London and that they would lodge a complaint with the International Shipping Organization. They also told the warship to shoot all they wanted, as they were videotaping this for CNN.

The warship responded that it would start firing over top of the tanker if it didn't slow to 8 knots and prepare to be boarded. "Clear your personnel from your top decks." This prompted a similar response from the tanker who now claimed that they had been boarded four times in the last three days and they would not slow down.

As the warship started its countdown, the tanker quickly interrupted and claimed it was slowing to 8 knots, not because it was about to comply, but because it was having "engineering problems." At this point, however, the transmission was starting to fade and get garbled with static and within minutes we lost the transmission.

This long-winded account comes from my log at the time.

Ya' just don't know what kinda shit these sumbitches are up to everyday. We're just mushrooms. They keep us in the dark and feed us shit all day. But every now and then a little light gets through....

It's stealin', I know....

but Nate brought up mass transit and I have always thought mass transit was a Bad Idea. Unless you are cattle on the way to the slaughter house destined for death anyway. I know y'all know the old exercise where you identify a solution to a problem by lookin' at it from the perspective of "How would I make this happen if that was my goal?"; so How would you make folks inviting targets for raghead assheads?

Hmmm.
1) Group them altogether in a small space so the least amount of munitions would result in the greatest destruction per unit of munition and personel.

2) Put this same group on a predetermined fixed schedule.

3) Advertise said shedule months in advance so one would have plenty of time to plan very specifically and in detail.

4) Restrict the targets movement within the the small space and ability to independently repulse attack.

5) Encourage folks to habitually follow the instructions of those representing themselves as authority figures.

6) Inhibit the ability of those supposedly charged with the safety of the cattle from removing or prohibiting the presence of ragheads in their 20's and 30's.

This list could go on a long time, but you get the picture. Just for fun think about how dumb it is to put yourself this much under the control of an entity that obviously works counterproductive to you own safety, survival, and freedom.
-

In Context:

"'Is it so nice as all that?' asked the Mole shyly, as though he was
quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and
surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the
fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
'Nice? It's the only thing ,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he
leant forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is
nothing--absolutely nothing--half so much doing as messing about in
boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing--about--in
boats; messing-----'
'Look ahead, Rat!' cied the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The
dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the
boat with his heels in the air.
'---about in boats---or with boats,' the Rat went on composedly,
picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. 'In or out of 'em, it
doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of
it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive
at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether
you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do
anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always
something else to do, and you can do it if you'd like, but you'd much
better not'..."

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

Who said this?

"There is nothing half so much worth doing as mucking about
in boats. In them or out of them, it doesn't much matter"

What's your name?

I'm sittin' in my lawnchair readin' the Stephen Hunter paperback I didn't realize was out there when I look up to see a three year old pixie. Wouldn't make a popcorn fart and slim and small as nothin - big green eyes and dishwater hair in stubby curly pigtails. Gotta be an elf in the woodpile.....

-"Hi! What's your name?", she doesn't really care, she's just getting the conversation started.

+"Jim. What's your name?", I do care. I've never met elfinkind before.

-"Tiffany! Is your mommy awake?", she means my wife. This get's me outa the chair and grinnin'!

+"uh-huh. I'll get her for ya', c'mon."

I stick my head in the door of the motorhome, "Oh Mom, someone here to see you!"

What fun. This little girl carried on like that all of last week while we were on vacation.

It's the 'little' things that bring joy to life.

Rental

OK I got the hint, Nate.

This latest Supreme Court decision is much written about. I don't know why everyone is surprised; we have been renting our real and personal property from the government for many years. Given the premise the government owns the property this latest decision makes perfect sense. Shouldn't a landlord be allowed to boot his tenants to upgrade his facilities?

Think about it. Anything someone else can legally take from you is not owned by you. Failure to pay property taxes results in government seizure of your home/ farm/ business facility therefore the govenment actually owns them. But what is the high price you paid for your home if not a purchase? Near as I can tell all you are purchasing is the right to rent the place.

I truly don't see how anymore can be made of property rights these days without serious extensive self delusion.

It's just a matter of details..

Ever notice on a broadcast press conference that as you will be reacting with horror to some government action the reporters in the room are asking nitpicking policy questions? Witness: the post below. One of the videos carries the audio of a press conference along with the evidence of torture of the SPEEDER. At no time does a reporter question the action of the officer as inhumane, or the wisdom of a government using electroshock torture on random victims. All the questions are related to policy. Why is that?

Here's what I think: The commie rat bastards in the press think whtever action is taken it is at its core justified because it was, after all, the government that took it. They will always focus on a policy detail or bureaucrat rather than the problem as a whole.

No one will stand up at say, "Uh, didn't we prosecute nazis for this?"

Ever wondered what it is like inside a brownshirt mind?

This is a video of a routine traffic stop. A SPEEDER!

As reported in the Palm Beach Post, the woman was stopped for speeding and then arrested for having a suspended license. In the process the officer tazered her twice, because she was talking on the cellphone.

The thread linked HERE

has posts by an "altcop". Eye opening stuff. We are no more than cattle to these gun toting bureaucrats who view lack of immediate unquestioning compliance with their authority as punishable by roadside electroshock torture.

Such a nice place we live in.

Sail Day

SailDay
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

Whew! I am beat! And I'm as beet red as a greek boy can get, too. Note to self: Sunscreen washes off in the water.

Just thought I would quickly post on the new (to me) sailboat and Jeep Diesel Liberty combo.

First the Jeep pulls stronger than my suburban. I have towed SlowRide with both and the Jeep accelerates better and pulls hills LOTS better. Go figure. However, the Jeep just doesn't have a long enough wheelbase for this big a boat. Past 60MPH the boat starts swaying. NOT good. So I drive 56MPH to the lake and back with no drama.

Launching was a bitch. Not because of any problem with floating the boat, starting the motor or pulling up and down the ramp though. The boat stuck to the trailer.

I backed down the ramp until the water was up to my rear axle. I figure that'll do. Can't get the boat off. Joe "the Drill" is in the boat with the motor runnin' trying to back it off when I notice the trailer drifting to the side.

"Joe, the trailer's floatin'.", says I. "All the straps are off, I don't know why it would.", says he.

So, I pushed the trailer back onto the ramp, pulled forward (make diesel sounds now) and gave the trailer a once over. That's when we figured out the boat was actually STUCK to the trailer. It seems the paint Joe "the drill" used on the bottom made the hull adhere to the boards on the trailer.

I backed it down and stood on the trailer fender bouncing. Pop! other side, Pop!

Free at last, I put the Jeep in a parking spot and we motored to the middle of the lake to begin sailing.

More to come.

Goodnight!

Home Port

CAM_0220
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

There's my girls hamming it up as usual while I get the boat ready to splash for the first time in my posession. I'm headed out this morning so wish me luck; I'm gettin' splashed for the first time, too. Also, will be towing with the deisel Liberty - that should be interesting, too.
I can hear the turbo spooling up now..... Gotta go!

A Buccaneer on the Loose

showsails2
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

This is not my boat, but it is the same make and model. Ya' gotta give he guy credit for successfully compensating for a yellow hull.

I always wanted to be a pirate....

Mission Accomplished

I purchased the MacGregor 25 today. I did not steal it, but nearly so. The owner, Joe "The Drill", let it go for much less than it is worth and I acknowledged that before, during, and after the negotiation, but I still think we are both happy with the deal. I have heard it said that the other fella should be mad when the deal is done. I generally settle for melancholy. He was; he's gonna miss his boat. Interesting nickname he has. I didn't ask - I didn't want to know.

If the weather and the details go well she should be in the water Saturday at Cave Run lake. Expect pictures and posts.

Gregg and Res: There will be no bass fishing off my boat. Not because it is unseemly, but because I can't catch a fish without a jug, a treble hook, and a hotdog. So, I ain't havin' no one showin' off on my boat.

Don't forget, Jimmy Buffet is from Alabama.

Sailboat Pending

Making an offer on a MacGregor 25 today. See examples here. Will have cash in hand so Wish Me Luck!

Res-mail

kimber
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

Res got a new .45 and was kind enough to send this in depth review. Please, don't drool on my blog. Here is this season's "must have" for the well dressed man-about-town

I just joined the local IDPA league so I could spend lots of time breaking
it in. We shot for about two hours tonight. I went through about 200
rounds. One failure to feed. I suspect it was my fault, I was rushing for
time and changed positions, so I may have limp wrist'd it. Bad thing is
with a 23lb spring when this baby jams it jams hard. I should have racked
it harder to clear it. I'll remember that if there is a next time. No
other problems at all, other than I will need some time to get used to a
shorter barrel. The sight picture is slightly different and I was trying to
hit high on the steal targets because some of them were falling a little
hard.

As a carry gun this has it all! Its 1/4in shorter than anybody else's
commander style gun, the barrel is 4in. It is a bull style barrel that
doesn't require a bushing. IT IS TIGHT! Fit and finish is near perfect.
The gun is deburred and rounded in the shop before they finish it. Front
strap checkering is 30 lpi and the underside of the trigger guard is
checkered too. Using an OWB holster tonight, the gun jumped to my hand and
came up in a perfect solid grip every time.

Control ability is great, the gun may be the lightest in its class but its'
far from unmanageable. The biggest challenge for me is learning the point
of aim on it and getting the sight picture right. I'm so used to a 5in gun
that it seems "wrong" but I think in a week or two' I'll be completely over
that.

Have you seen these:

http://www.gunnersalley.com/product/COMPTACCTAC

I'm thinking of doing something like this for my new carry holster. Its
great to carry and I think I'm going to be real pleased with it.<

br />
Res

Sailing

I bought a canoe. Oh, before I forget, Congrats on the new .45, Res!
What was I saying? I bought a canoe. $100.00! It's old and aluminum and sorta heavy, but I figure I can paddle the girls around some. I was talkin' to an old canoe hand about it the other day, and he got to tellin' me how prone they are to swamping. Seems a decent sized boat will flat fill one up. Took all the fun out of it. I don't want to beretrieving a canoe off the bottom of a lake somewhere. Not my idea of vacation fun.

So, I'm hunting up a sailboat. Nothing too big - 19 to 26 feet, retractable keel, outboard, trailer. A daysailor/weekender to drag around behind the motorhome.

Advice and knowledge hereby solicited.

The Doctor has Infected My Home

Isabella Rossi Pic
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

For those who don't know, "the Doctor" is Valentino Rossi, the fastest man alive. He is the reigning champion of Moto GP motorcycle racing. He's also a spindly, ubergeek who is at least as goofy lookin' as the class nerd you remember from shool days.

As can be seen in the drawing my youngest daughter has a crush on him. She tore out a magazine ad featuring him, took it to school and told her friends she was "in love". They told her he wasn't "cute".

Her reply, "No, but he's fast and he wins races."

I haven't figured out just what to do here...... I guess I don't have to beat him publicly unless he shows up on my doorstep, but past that I am at a loss.

The Phone Call

Nate: Heyman! Whatcha into?

JACIII: Not much, tillin' the garden.

Nate: Hey, um, somethin's wrong with my bike.

JACIII: What'd you do? (insert accusatory tone)

Nate: Nothin'! I didn't do anything, man. Um, it won't idle.

JACIII: It's outa gas.

Nate: No it's not! It's got plenty of gas!

JACIII: What's it doin'?

Nate: It runs, but it won't idle.

JACIII: You mean you can hold the throttle open and it will run, but when you let off it dies.

Nate: Yep.

JACIII: It's outa gas. The float bowls are emptying out.

Nate: NO IT'S NOT, DUDE. Listen, I just looked, there's all kinds of gas in the tank.

JACIII: OK, turn the idle adjustment screw up until it will stay running without you holding the throttle open and call me back and let me know how many RPM's it takes to keep it runnin'.

Nate: OK. (click)

INTERMISSION - Get popcorn, coke, Junior mints.....

JACIII: Yeah!

Nate: It's outa gas.

JACIII: Told ya'.

Nate: Fag.

JACIII: You good to go?

Nate: Yeah, got reserve. I'll make it to Joy's.

JACIII: Alright, Be careful. And don't pester Joy.



They will always be my little brothers.

Been quiet around here...

The weather is perkin' up and my afternoons have been spent at the forge. I will post pics of some of my handiwork soon. Expect no artistry, only the brutal persuasion of fire, anvil, 160lb of wild swingin' redneck, and a $130 hammer.

The Genius of John Browning

EGWFPS
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

You can tell a fella is the real thing when lesser folks seek to "improve" upon his work and perhaps cure one perceived problem while exacerbating others. This happens because when a really smart and knowledgable guy designs something there is a lot of what I call "density of design", meaning that a lot of parts or design elements serve more functions than it would initially appear. I stumbled upon an example of this today on a 1911 forum.

See, the military decided the 1911 had a too stiff initial manual slide retraction. No doubt some soft handed general abraded himself while enduring qualification with the 1911. A design change was issued and this little part
got changed.

Note the blurry one in the foreground has a bevel on the top right while the rear one has a pretty sharp radius. This one little change to what is called the "Firing Pin Stop" can result in any number of malfunctions. Since this was implemeted folks have come up with all kinds of fixes for the resulting problems it caused; treating the symptons and not the disease.

That one dimension started a whole chain reaction of differences in the way the pistol functioned, from felt recoil, lock timing, slide to frame impact, feeding, to ejection reliability. I other words it didn't work anymore. Whole industries have been founded on solutions to problems this change caused.

Design Density.

The Return of the Pocket Watch

Seen any old movies lately? Folks checking on the train or somesuch by diggin' a two inch diameter clock out of the bib pocket of their overalls, flippin' the cover open, shading it from the sun and squinting at it. I found myself doing this very same thing the other day with my cellphone.

Yeah, I wear bibs sometimes. Did you know they have a special watch pocket on the outside of the bib pocket? The watch (cellphone) slides in sideways right to left. It is the perfect size for the newer compact flip phones, the antenna snags on the way out sometimes, but it is real handy. Theres even what appears to be a useless buttonhole that is for attaching a watchfob to keep you from droppin' your $300.00 phone onto the pavement.

You're not still wearin' a watch are ya'? Luddite, those things are going the way of dinosaur blogs (newspapers) and the network newscast.

Get hip. Get bibs.

Thompson 1911C Target

Thompson 1911C Target
Originally uploaded by The Third Way.

Here it is. The Evidence. That is a three inch target spot. That's @ 25 yards rested on a bench. Measure yourself - and remember, Gregg, those are 1/2 inch holes! I was unable to do any better than 3" on my hindlegs though.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

The Best Defense or "Why a .45?" Well, Grasshopper....

I have been a CCW holder and habitual user for about 7 years now. I started off with a Makarov in .380. I was poor but I found a 'custom' in hard-chrome with target sights. Walther PP size, ate anything, couldn't make it misfire; indestructable. I bought some Franchi ammo one time that was full of half loads and was pure junk. It cycled all but the one round that fell apart chambering. That's right the bullet fell out of the case. I liked the gun alot. Then I saw a show on TV where some nut was holding a girl hostage and shot her about 8 times with a .380. She was on her feet and attempting to evade him as he pumped lead into her. The scene lasted about 5 minutes and ended with her walking to the ambulance. About two weeks later I had a dream about a 'home invasion' and the same sort of thing happened in it. Shoot the bad guy - nothing happens. I traded the Mak the next week off for a Ruger Super Redhawk brass beltbuckle. I wear it to this day and get lots of compliments.

I upgraded to a KAHR Arms K40; all steel, heavy, tough, powerful, accurate, and compact. What a trigger! Butter smooth, but about a 1 1/2 inch pull. Not much use for shooting games and such. You can impress folks by ringing a 100 yard steel with your 4 inch compact semiauto, though! I still love this gun, and use it if small size is critical to a carry situation.

I never thought I would own a "plastic" gun, but I got to lookin' at the CZ100 one day at a local gun store and identified some interesting features that sparked my interest. I asked to see it and the clerk handed it over, offer to make a deal. I handed it back when I realized it was a puny 9mm. He was persistent though, and eventually asked for an offer. I low balled him with half the marked price to shut him up and damned if he didn't take it! What are ya' gonna do? I bought the gun. It shoots great, I carry it most often even though it is a full size duty weapon because it is so light you can forget you are wearing it. I just plan on having to make head shots.

In between the Makarov and the KAHR I bought a book called, "The Best Defense" by Robert A. Waters that is filled with stories of regular folks successfully defending themselves and their loved ones with a firearm. In this book is the tale of a woman who was stalked for fifteen years by a former coworker at a bank. She, her husband, and children even moved away to get away from the ass. No help from cops, of course, they are only there to clean up the mess; not prevent it or intervene. Eventually the guy goes off completely, makes a 'death list' and begins showing up on the doorstep of former coworkers and killing them, though one survived and was able to get police to warn the other former coworkers that he was on a rampage and was wearing a bulletproof vest. Now, the above stalked woman's husband had purchased a .45 and learned to use it. He prepared for the coming attack. The coward shows up on his doorstep pretending to need help. The husband got his family on the floor and when the psycho figured out his ploy didn't work he shot the lock off the door and came in shooting at the children on the floor. Dad rests the .45 on the refridgerator at puts a .45 slug on target. The cops picked the psycho up later, begging for help for real this time, whimpering on the ground from the trauma caused to him by one .45 round to his chest. Through a Kevlar Vest. The round didn't penetrate, it just hit so hard he wished it had. I knew I would eventually purchse a .45ACP 1911 the second I finished reading that tale.

My New 1911!

Oops! OUR new 1911!

Follow THIS to a review of the gun (Thompson Custom 1911 review is the first review listed in the "Reviews" links) - Note the 25yard accuracy data. I was able to duplicate these results today at the range. These numbers are usually reserved for $1500+ firearms. Thompson is owned by KAHR Arms, makers of the most reliable, accurate, and potent hideaway (CCW) guns available. I own a KAHR in .40S&W and have found it to be of amazing dependibility, accuracy, and quality, so I took a gamble and bought one of the first hundred 1911 Customs they have ever manufactured.

It's new and the chamber is a bit tight, so I had a couple of failures to eject. And the guide rod is shedding some kind of coating, but I can't bitch until at least 200 rounds have been fed through it. I'll call KAHR tomorrow and get a new guide rod shipped out and tell them how accurate their pistol is.

I showed my groups to the Mrs. and her reaction was, "I can't believe anyone would BUY a gun that wouldn't do that...". I explained to her that 2" at 25 yards was exceptional, the 1.5" groups I got today was amazing, and that we had no right to spend less than $700 on a 1911 and get that kind of result. We buy this company's guns because of this. They do not play when it comes to accuracy.


See me smilin' ?!

"I think this guy is a loser. " - Harry Reid

This is my favorite tack used by democrats. Harry is refering to GW here, of course, and to my knowledge he hasn't been beat at ANYTHING. This, I guess, makes him a loser in the eyes of his opponents. From whence does this shit come? They're either hypnotised or trying to hypnotise us through repitition is all I can figure. How else do you explain such obvious serial rejection of reality?

They have been on a steep downhill slide since Clinton was inaugurated and Newt began beatin' them about the head and shoulders, steadily losing any grip on power, yet they herald Bill Clinton as a savior. He presided over the most dramatic shift away from a party since FDR in the midst of no causal crisis either real or imagined. Now, they consider him a "winner", nay, an idol - worshipped by the denizens of the dinosaur blog and legacy media alike.

GW has whipped their asses at every turn, and done it in a manner which looks like a hard fought narrow victory starting with the governorship of Texas. That flies once, or maybe twice. Not every time. What these dolts are doing is staying at the table, betting, while a shark runs it on 'em over and over again, but just barely. That's what democrats call a "loser".

While this makes democrats fun to watch (I especially enjoy listening to NPR after whatever latest ass whoopin' has been visited upon the left! Whaaa! Whaaa! Big tears!) it makes it particularly frustrating when they are taken seriously about ANYTHING.

The corollary to the above is, "What's GW doing to those of us who would appear to be on the same side of the political spectrum?"

Bunn

I know. Who gets excited over a coffeemaker? First time for me I gotta tell ya'.

The ol' coffee pot went ta' shit and I told the wife I wanted on of them damn near instant coffee makers. Her mom has one and it makes the closest thing to percolated coffee I've had yet. The coffee tastes 'cooked' somehow.

And it's not just the coffee, 3 minutes for a pot of hot water. Think Earl Grey, hot chocolate w/ 'fluff'. MMMMMMMMMMMM

I put this household appliance in the same category as that KitchenAid mixer the wife stands back from, throws yummy things into and out pops pie makin's. Derby Pie anyone?

Incidently, here's the wife's variation if you want to celebrate the Derby proper:

1 cup sugar (pure cane)
1/4 cup flour
2 beaten eggs
1 stick melted butter (must be cooled)
1 cup pecan pieces
1 cup chocolate chips
1 tsp vanilla

Put into store bought frozen dough pie crust.

bake 1 hour at 325 F

Enjoy!

Happiness is a well equipped workshop.

What more does a man need? (Besides a Ducati 1000DS, of course.)


Happiness

I don't see a coffee pot or a "Liar's Bench" in the photo, but you can bet there was seating somewhere nearby. There is no way the community elders will let a man get away with too much concentrated continuous productive effort. At least not without the benefit of their unsolicited advise.

I live in the oldest community in the state of Kentucky. The General Store was taken out of serious service only about 10 years ago. It's still open, but is now a craft shop. (blech!) For such a small community there are a lot of businesses in place and business is done the in the old way. There is William Leonard's mechanic's shop (formerly the smithy his father owned and worked), Egbert's Gun Site across the street, Bill's Market at the top of the hill with groceries and fuel, and the 127 Foodcenter combined with the new hardware/lumber yard which together serve the former function of the General Store.

All of these places have a thing in common: A spot for folks to sit, drink a cup of coffee and pass the time. This is the wat things were done here in the 1700's and the way they are done here now. Can you tell I like the place?

Proof Positive

Soccer is for sissies. The captain of the UK (That's United Kingdom, lest some ethnocentric yankee think Kentuckians are engaging in such behavior) 'football' team is publicly giving out beauty tips.
Normally, were I to say a man was giving out beauty tips I would be refering to something like, "Hey man, if you cut your finger off you can glue it back on with Super Glue. Yeah, Works great! See?!" or, "My wife quit buying soap for the shower, too, so I just use whatever squirts outa one of them bottles that doesn't appear to be synthetic jism. Sure, same stuff for the hair and beard, too. Kinda smelly, though...."

This soccer star, though, uses moisturizing cream and enjoys manicures. His wife says he is very much a "new man" and "totally in touch with his feminine side. He loves having his face and nails done."

Bwhahahahaha!

I always thoguht soccer was for the the uncoordinated kids who couldn't play basebal, football, basketball or those without fathers who's mothers forced them into it because they couldn't bear to see little Richard compete (gasp! bad for self esteem). Turns out it's just a bunch of queeners exchanging beauty tips. Can't say I'm really surprised at that anymore than at the 'revalation' that the youngest of the Jackson Five is a pervert.

Doh!

I'm Gettin' Pissed.

Blogger is a pain in the ass to post a pic anyway, and then they gotta go and screww around with it all the time. Man! Here I've been surfin' the web and slobbering over the 1000DS Welldigger clued me onto and I can't corrupt anyone else by puttin' up a 'to die for' pic.

Gimme time. The weather has been nice in the afternoons and I just can't get to the keyboard. Hope y'all are neglecting the keyboards, too!

See ya'!

Duc Fever

I’ve got it; showing all the symptoms. I don’t know if I’ll be able to shake it before I buy one or not. It’s getting’ pretty bad; I’ve got an ST4 on my desktop, I search them out on ebay three times daily, I read the data on owner’s group and enthusiast sites….. I used to think they were ugly, I think they’re sex on wheels now.

Any constructive discouragement will be appreciated.



.

I had fun today.

I finished painting Big Red as you can see below. Man, am I ever pleased with the way she turned out.

I ran out of paint towards the end and jumped on The Mothership (Voyager XII) to acquire some more. Along the way I see and Hardley Sportster 883 waiting at an intersection. I pass by and see him pull out and gun it in my mirrors. No biggie; it's fun to ride in groups. Dude pulls alongside for awhile then guns it again. Now, I don't tolerate this sort of behavior well, but I was on 900lb saddlebagged interstate whale - the motorcycle equivalent of an 18 wheeler - so I just rode in back for awhile. The thing about these damn Hardleys is they sound like shit and the pussies who ride 'em want everybody to hear it. The one in front of me was no exception, sounded like a Briggs and Stratton with no muffler. So I dropped two gears and twisted the 'GO' handle. I saw him check six and then he twisted the 'All Sound and Fury but NoPower' handle. I ran him down surprisingly easily and proceeded to run off.

We came to a stoplight and chatted awhile, he thought it was a fluke. From the stoplight I let him get steady and situated onto the highway and began settling into a staggered formation behind him when I see his front wheel tryin' to come up as he goes for second gear. O.K. Twist, rundown, pass, run off. I gave him a headstart this time. WhooHoo! Go Voyager!

The above scenario repeated itself two more times. Dude looked upset the last time and sped off doin' a steady 90mph in a 55mph zone. I let him go. No reckless drivig tickets for me. Not on the Mothership!

The thing is BigRed, a ten year old bike, would do that to him so fast and hard he would feel the compression wave with out any real fuss or effort. Dude should peel the SPORTster sticker off that thing.

A wise man once told me he felt sorry for Hardley riders. He figured they didn't know any better since most of 'em had never ridden anything else...

I saw so many potbellies out on those things today I thought I was gonna be sick. Cattle. Each one has a 'custom' bike - just like everyone else's. Pitiful.

And This is How Red They Are!

.

Motorcycles are Red

So says she who thinks her husband looks hot in leather pants on a "hooker's fingernail red" sport-tourer. That means the blue/red/gold/purple flipflop paint I demo-ed for her is a no go. She went through her fingernail polish collection (quite extensive), picked out the appropriate red bottle and promptly jumped into her Jeep to find Big Red's new color scheme. Big Red/Blue/Gold/Purple just doesn't have the same ring to it now does it?
Over the last few months I had come home with several different red colours of paint but once I tried them next to the bike I was never satisfied. The wife goes out and with one shot finds the perfect colour.

The moral of the story?
Never send a man to do a woman's job.

Day 3 - Natchez

Breakfast at the motel in Jackson, They had a waffle maker fer Christ's sake!The pope's funeral is on the telly. How do you bury one guy in three boxes?

The trace dtours around Jackson, so we went the long way around. That is; the long wrong all the way around. But, hey, we're here to ride, so what the hell?

The sun is out in full force and we quickly find ourselves shedding gear. This is not a big problem on the Trace as it is a leisurely ride with no surprises save the local wildlife kamkazeein' ya' every so often. The list of which grows by a fox and two turkeys. The fox had it timed just right, but did a 'U' turn right at the edge of the pavement touching his nose to his tail in the maneuver. Shucks! I was already figurin' out how to get his hide back to the house to made a nifty fur something out of him.....

We tooled along at a stately 60 mph for the 90 miles to Natchez and headed straight for 'Natchez - Under the Hill". For those of you not in the know, Natchez Under the Hill is a group of taverns, shops, and cafe's on the waterfront where the dock used to be for the riverboats to ply their trade. Rainman and I dined at the same cafe' that Nate and I visited last yaer and I had the 'Shrimp, Chicken, Okra Gumbo'. Delicious. Rainman expressed his satisfaction at the dining experience, though I could tell he was lookin' around for something else to stick a fork into. The man has a bottomless stomach I tell ya'.

We took a stroll along the waterfront and I was dissapointed that the Mississippi Queen was not in port, instead one of those uglyassed gambling boats was there with an ant trail of retired suckers marching in and out. Ugh.

more to come.-

Bane's in a tight spot

Sorry this took so long, Difster.

Details here

Day 2 continued

Two guys on the road can be a little uncomfortable sometimes. There are times when you catch yourself; “WHAT the hell did I just say?!” For instance:

Rainman and I were at the cash register of the Mexican restaurant In Jackson Miss.after a hearty meal and a Corona when Rainman asks the lady, “Do you know of any motels around here?”
Now, look at this objectively. Two guys in motorcycle attire (we're stylin' I'm tellin' ya'! I'm decked out racerboy and Rainman looks...., well, like he rides a V(iagra) twin bike) are standing there and want to know where the motel is. I don’t know about you, but I get a mental picture of the Village People.

Of course when I brought this to Rainman’s attention he laughed himself silly. Ya’ see what I’m dealin’ with here? It gets worse.

We go to the Comfort Inn and the nice lady behind the desk starts tellin’ us about a customer she gets that actually puts his bike in the room with him and then she asks, “Are you two on the same motorcycle?” like one of us is ridin’ ‘bitch’! I just shook my head. Of course, the reason she wanted to know this was so she could express that she didn’t think both bikes would fit into one room. You don’t get service like that just anywhere.

Day 2

Up at the crack of dawn, haven’t slept so sound in awhile. We turn on the local news for the weather report. Scattered showers from here north with decreasing probability as you go South. Some jerk killed a girl and dumped her body on the Trace. Hmmmmmmmm. Of course, I’m carryin’. I checked the chamber for potential energy and good to go.

The morning was cool and we headed out in full gear, haulin’ ass when rain clouds blocked the sun and slowing to soak up those precious rays when they burned through the clouds melancholy hold on them. We played the bikes down the road. No hurry, no worries; free on the open road with the anticipation of discovery around the next bend.

We hoofed up to an overlook to get some blood flowing and forestall rider fatigue. There are quite a few nice overlooks on the Trace and from the terrain you wouldn’t expect them. Well worth the effort. Once again the Wild Turkey were out strutting, and we saw a few crane or heron, I don’t know which but they were white. There had been a big storm through Alabama and northern Mississippi and there was evidence of high water all around. It made a lot of the area swampish

Lunch was in a town off the Trace called Saltillo, at a local interest called “Little Charlie’s”. Little Charlie’s had a special on a double cheeseburger plate so Rainman and I took the plunge. Damn what a sandwich! There was easily 3/4lbs. of meat on the burger. I didn’t quite finish mine, but Rainman has a legendary appetite and soon put his away. Excellent meal. Greasy, tasty, with a BIG glass of sweet tea.
While we were eating some locals wandered in, checking out the bikes as they filed by. I took the opportunity to explain to Rainman the difference in appeal of a sportbike and the Mothership. See, on a sportbike, you’re pretty much a rockstar, an object of envy of men and the desire of women. (In case you don’t know, that’s a good thing.) The Mothership attracts a different crowd populated chiefly by old men with canes (they think it looks comfortable) and fat chicks (they think it won’t collapse under their asses), so we had a big time confirming my theory as the local liars hobbled in for their noon coffee.

We rode on to Jackson, Ms. without much of note except for a stop at the Pearl River where Nate and I had paused on our journey last year. It’s still a hell of a spot, Bro.

We ate Mexican in Jackson and tucked in for the night at a Comfort Inn. There’s a tale there, but it’ll have to wait.

#*%!@*&^%$ Audio Blogger is Crap!

I musta sent out 5 or 6 audio-blogs from the road. Nothing! Zip! Zilch! Nada! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

So, I guess I'll have to update y'all on the trip this way. It's so .... low tech.

Day 1:

Everyone backs out, except my esrstwhile riding buddy, Rainman (not his real name). Now, we call him rainman for a reason; if he's ridin' - it's rainin'. True to form, we buzzed into Nashville under a heavily pissin' cloud, but started the Trace with a mist in the air and Bar-B-Cutie in our bellies (it's good, but it's not Slick Pig or Moonlight). We saw scads of wild turkey (a good omen) and even a light brown jake; the result of domestic inbreeding. Well, we happened upon a Park Ranger who rides a BMW GS1150 in his other life and he advised us of the nearest town with a motel so we made for Lawrenceburg, TN in a blinding deluge of rain and pitch black night.
We rode about thirty miles to the Lawrenceburg exit off the Natchez Trace Parkway
Happened on a Best Western there and we left our bikes under the check in canopy and the nice lady at the desk gave us the room right beside 'em.
Throughout all this excitement and the joy of the open ride I should have been paying more attention to my riding buddy. We had geared up for the rain in Bowling Green, but ya' just don't much get wet on the Mothership anyway and I was feeling no pain (I'm lovin' my heated grips and the little wing thingies I made to keep the cold air and water away from my feet!), but Rainman has a pair of rainpants with a duct-tape patch on the knee, leaky boots, and these plastic mittens you'd have to see to believe. He got wet. Dog in the creek wet. Drowned rat wet, I'm tellin' ya', and temps were in the low 50's. Poor guy's teeth were chattering, he was wet from the neck down, much longer and I'm thinkin' hypothermia would have set in. Not sure it didn't get a start on him anyway. Hey!, he rides a cruiser; what can you expect? They're just not made for the open road, they're for pretending you're on the open road. However, Rainman always toughs it out and like he says, "That's what makes it an adventure." Truer words were never spoken.

More to come...

I Thought TV Was Already for Morons!

The baybboomers will never recover from the passing of TV as the primary medium of mass communication in this world. They grew up watching the rich neighbors TV 'set' through their picture window, and the wonder of it hasn't left them.

"Gollygeewhiz!, Ethel, ya' just push the button and there's Walter Kronkite right in our very own livin' room! It's a miracle! Get out the good china and pull up that extra chair to the dinette set!"

Attempts have been made to shore it up with web/TV amalgams before. Hopefully, when this one fails they will give it up and settle down to growing their asses and reruns of 60 Minutes and 20/20. Current events y'all!

"The Internet opened a floodgate for young people whose passions are finally being heard, but TV hasn't followed suit. Young adults have a powerful voice, but you can't hear that voice on television ... yet," said Gore

Algore announcing new network targeted at 18-34 yr olds. (Other than MTV)

Reproductive Air-Guitar

Ya’ ever see some guy lost in a fantasy of rock-stardom, left arm held out to his side, his right hand fanning his bellybutton as if it was on fire? He’s having a blast, volume cranked to the stop, head bobbing up and down, making intense funny faces akin to the Starwars Kid in Berserker Attack. This activity, viewed from where he is sitting, is enjoyable, aerobic, emotionally satisfying stress relief. And, Man! Doesn’t he look cool?!

Nope. He looks like the King of Losers asserting his dominion over the rest of the virgin horde. Now, I have given this a lot of thought due to the widely varying expressed opinions of those hereabouts on a very similar activity. Perhaps, there must be something I’m missing…. Nah!

Air-Fucking – or you might refer to it as “dancing”; either way it's ludicrous when performed by the male of the species.

Here’s what I think: All chicks dig it; they enjoy doing it, and seeing it done, by both sexes. A few men do it; they enjoy seeing it done, but only by chicks. This is a familiar paradigm. It is analogous to the ability of each sex to appreciate beauty in the same sex; i.e. women do, men can’t. Pillowbiters are excluded in that, of course.

Disclaimer:
This does not apply to traditional, folk, ballroom or any other such activity where the primary focus is on group social interaction or involves the engagement of higher brain function. So I ain't callin' yer grandpa a sissy.

Elijah Made It!

Seven pounds and change, 20 inches long and a buncha black hair. Last I heard Dr. Who and Nate baby were doin' OK. Got the call just before midnight last night so I guess that means Elijah was born March 30.

Congrats to all at Nate's Peep Paradise!

WooHoo! Another nephew!

Now why does a Hank Williams tune keep runnin' around in my head?
-

No news on the birthing front.......yet.

Note the timestamp on this post. It's Wednesday evening and Nate's at hospital w/ Dr. Who. I got a report this morning that there was a problem with the baby's heartbeat during labor, so they slowed things down a bit. Cross your fingers and say your prayers, folks.

Still waiting on Elijah!

On a lighter note I did add a link to "Nate's Peep Paradise". He will be so pleased.

Spacebunny Goes Tactical

Lifted from Nate's:

SB says,
.....you are making the erroneous assumption that Nate and UO and others would have waited this long. There has not always been this kind of guard on her and if someone were trying to kill my child (remember this has been going on a very long time, not just the past few weeks) I would have had her out of there years ago (when he first petitioned to remove her feeding tube) and there wasn't the security.

As they say, "possession is nine-tenths of the law". Think what a better chance the family would have to keep her alive had they only followed SB's advice. Though I suspect they have been thinking they fell down the hole with Alice for a month now. (The situation was probably unimaginable.) They would HAVE physical custody of their daughter and the judge would have to order her removed from theirs into the shithead's tender care. Law enforcement would have to ACT to kill her, rather than just preventing someone acting to save her. Whole different ballgame! Can you see judge grim and his Barney Fife squad executing an Elian Gonzalez(sp?) type raid to return her to the custody of those who wish her dead? Her dad, with a .38 snub, could hold them off to a buffer of 100 yards, probably more, by firing into the air! Make sure the rest of the family are Dad's hostages so only he goes to jail when some judge somewhere finally decides to lift the death sentence on his daughter and Mom and the rest are still around to care for her. Have a brother or two in reserve in case they try again. I know many who have a month's worth of food/water without even tryin'. The county isn't going to pay for the deputies to sit around that long drinkin' coffee and cowering behind their vehicles, especially if Dad works the media to his advantage. Factor in some forethought, and this becomes a very winnable situation at least in the short term.

The curious affair of Terri Shiavo and Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli

Perhaps it’s just that I haven’t been reading much commentary lately, but while lots of folks are criticizing the Bush brothers for their feeble and perhaps cynical use of Terri Schiavo for political gain, I got to wondering about the timing of all this. What one thing has come out of this that will stick in the mind of Johnny work-a-day?
Here's what I think: That these judges are not only getting sillier by the minute, but they are starting to get out of hand. The seed has been planted in the back of every man's mind that some fat no-account ambulance chasing liar-for-a-living may one real day hold his fate in its pale puffy putrid hands. They just might need takin’ down a notch, eh?
And just how many seats on the Supreme Court are coming open? After the Bush brothers made a conspicuous run at these judges ("black robes" they says, homebaked demigods says I) I don’t see GW having a lot of trouble getting constructionist judges past the senate. No one will take significant notice that several Republican appointees participated in the murder of Terri Schiavo and they will beat the opposition with the Terri Schiavo stick until none are left opposing them excepting Barney Lispingfag Frank.
In this scenario the Brothers Bush may not save Terri, in fact she MUST die in order for it to work. Machiavelli is smiling somewhere; hot as it may be.

Shout out to the King of the Peeps !

So, Nate, what was in that Easter basket Welldigger sent your way?
Nothin' like the considerate love of a brother to make the world seem a better place, eh?

Happy Easter to all!

And, Nate, don't hog all the peeps; Share with Jeb.

Orson Get's it Right

One of my favorite authors of SF/ fantasy is Orson Scott Card. I was shocked this morning to see he had a commentary on Terry Schiavo. One of the most well reasoned and thought out pieces I've read so far.

The quadriplegics who learn to paint with a brush held between their teeth.

Helen Keller.

Stephen Hawking.

I suppose, though, that we should have simply killed them as soon as the incurability of their problems became obvious. After all, what “quality of life” could they possibly have?

Enjoy.