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There be hogs! (I hope)

I’ve been prepping for a feral pig hunt, tomorrow. In the cold*. If it goes well, I’ll share the details. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll probably share those, too. If there are pics, I’ll try to make sure they meet my definition of tasteful. Hopefully, it will result in the harvest of bacon seeds.

*I’ve probably never mentioned how much I like cold weather, but absolutely despise being cold. Especially my feet. It’s hard to be positive when your feet are cold.

Not a good day

Not a good day for writing. Not a good day for feeling all that confident about the direction the country is taking. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.

Necessity rearing its ugly head, again?

From Forbes, we get the following: Supreme Court Will Decide Whether Police Can Enter A Home To Seize Guns Without A Warrant

Before we go any further, I share with you the words of William Pitt the Younger

“Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves.”

While my law enforcement time was limited to the USCG, it’s worth noting that there were people living full-time on boats. We did not presume to seize things as part of “community caretaking” because for someone who lived on a boat, the boat was more than simply a vehicle. It was, instead, a person’s home. Accordingly, our actions were limited to those permitted by the Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution. One can only hope that the Supreme Court will recognize, and rule clearly, that the, well, sanctity of the home is to be violated as part of “community caretaking” only in the rarest of circumstances and then only if law enforcement can be said to meet a standard higher than “acting reasonably.” Should the Supreme Court decide otherwise, I see nothing good coming from this. Enough exceptions to the restrictions imposed on government by the Fourth Amendment have been carved out, already. Let’s hope this case doesn’t result in yet another one, all in the name of necessity.

Music and protest

The internet is a big place. Waaaaay over yonder, in the land of MeWe, a certain writer named Sarah Hoyt, she of blogging fame, noted that “Protest songs. we [sic] needs them.” It’s funny, in a way, that such a thing had never occurred to me. Largely because of my dad, I grew up, musically and in part, on American folk music, a genre of which protest songs comprise an important part. While not always agreeing with the political leanings of the writers and performers, the songs often raised some important questions, or asked people to take a look at important issues. More than that, they were an effective tool* for getting out important messages. Music is a powerful medium. Far more powerful than blogs like this.

In the above mentioned MeWe post, Hoyt provided a link to a protest song. The artist is one Hopalong Ginsberg. I highly recommend you give it a listen.

Another recent protest song is one closer to my heart, musically, anyway. I’ve linked to it before, but here it is, again. Be advised, this one contains language not suitable for all viewers/listeners.

*I’m more than a little disturbed that our need for protest songs in our current political environment had never occurred to me. American conservatives and American libertarians need to learn more, quickly, about the tools available to a counter-culture.

Unexpected help

Some days, not only do I have nothing to write, I don’t even have a decent meme to post. Sometimes, though, the internet comes through. Like this:

I thought I was going to die!

Let me see if I understand

Over the last year or so, multiple people from the Left, across various platforms, have felt compelled to point out some things to me. Among those, we find the following:

  • If I own a handgun (or, God forbid, actually carry one), I am a murdering time bomb, waiting to go off
  • The only purpose of the modern sporting rifle is “to kill as many people as possible in a short amount of time.
    • If I own a rifle like my AR pattern rifle, I am eagerly waiting for the opportunity to kill multiple people
  • If I question the wisdom of various infection control mandates, I
    • Don’t understand science
    • Refuse to “follow the science”
    • Am more concerned with my “freedom” (always in fear quotes) than with the lives of others
  • If I consider it at least possible that there was significant political chicanery afoot, which might have possibly contributed to Biden winning the election
    • I am a “Trumpist”
    • I hate America and the Constitution
    • I support rioters
    • I am a supporter of insurrection
  • If I draw any unfavorable comparisons between the riot at the US Capitol and the various riots over the summer
    • I am a racist, or even a White Supremacist
    • I am an anarchist
    • I am a “Trumpist”
  • If I suggest that maybe, just maybe, we should carefully consider the possibility that anthropogenic climate change is far more politics than science and that we need not rush headlong into decisions that could be disastrous in the long run
    • I am anti-science
    • I am stupid
  • Finally, I have been assured, repeatedly, that regardless of what I think or believe, I will eventually comply or face the consequences of my “stupid intransigence.”

All of this has lead to a few conclusions. I’ll bullet list those, too.

  • Those who have asserted the above are a charming, little lot of totalitarian wannabe’s.
  • I don’t care what you think.
  • I will not comply, though you are welcome to give forcing my compliance your best shot.
  • You have no idea what to do with those who simply refuse to comply, though you think you do. But, as Blade asked (LANGUAGE WARNING)

You are only totalitarian wannabe’s, rather than true totalitarians, because at heart, you are simply a bunch of little, whinging, limp-wristed, sissy-bitches. Accordingly, I cordially invite you to go pound sand.

I’m a cranky old man

This is what I need. We’ll call it the “Lawn Protection System, Mk II.”

Get off my lawn!

The hubris, it burns us!

File this one under, “I’m the f***ing VP so why do I need to call first?”

How about this? If you alienate Manchin, he is in a position to wreck legislation Biden supports, you idiot. It’s amazing that simple math eludes some of the supposedly best and brightest.

Making the magic lightning

Common stupidities can be voiced various ways. As regards the Keystone pipeline, a common theme, one expressed by a friend of mine who leans, shall we say, leftward, is that the loss of jobs arguably caused by President Bidet Biden’s executive order are not really a big deal if a net increase in jobs is enjoyed. If we think in terms of buggy whip makers, that’s true. The problem, of course, is that buggy whip makers were not put out of work by any sort of government mandate. This important distinction seems to consistently escape the notice of the Left. “But we need more green energy,” some will exclaim. I agree. Unfortunately, Watts Bar #2 is the only reactor to be brought online this century. That’s it. Just one. It appears the Left’s actual cry is “we need more green energy, as long as it comes from a source we like.”

Related to this is the cry to rid ourselves of our dependence on petroleum. Well, yes, we are dependent. Old NFO deals with this in his blog post “We don’t need no stinkin’ oil.” He provides a lengthy, but far from exhaustive, list of all the things for which we need petroleum. I encourage you to read the post.

I know a man who has made an important observation. My paraphrase is this: “With the exception of solar power, anytime we generate the magic lightning, we must spin the thing. If the thing does not spin, there is no magic lightning. If there is no magic lightning, the things which run on magic lightning don’t work. One of the things that will keep the thing from spinning is friction. To control friction, we must lubricate the spinning thing. We lubricate the spinning thing with…petroleum.” You might think this is not a difficult concept. Apparently, as regards the Left, you would be wrong.

Remembrance and regret


Life, I have recently become aware, is too short to put off things that need to be done. Hardly an original thought, but some things have brought it very clearly to my mind. I was blessed to have three sisters, all older than I. Many years ago, for reasons that no longer really matter, I made the conscious decision to limit my contact with them and most other members of my family of origin. Late last week, I made another decision. I would contact my sisters and see if I could rebuild relationships that I had allowed to lie dormant for so very long. Though it wasn’t her given name, my oldest sister was called “Sunny” by those who loved and knew her. It was both an apt description of her personality and the most appropriate of names. She was perhaps the most gentle person I have ever met. Sadly, Sunny died just over seven years ago, under circumstances that were, at best, tragic. I, her brother, who should have been at least trying to support and protect here, was not there for her. There will be no renewing a relationship with her, at least not in this life. I have neither pictures nor any other kind of remembrance of her.

I do, however, have this picture. Allow me to explain.


A remembrance of my friend

I once knew a man named Daniel. He lived in the area outside Abilene. Daniel was an Apache, a husband, a father, a gunsmith, a knife-maker, and also my friend. He was fiercely independent, unapologetically proud of his heritage and without anything that spoke of pretension. Daniel had lived a hard life, sometimes barely on the legal side of the law and sometimes pretty far to the other side. He had run with some hard people and done some hard things. For some reason, the nature of which I can only guess, he considered me a friend and called me “brother,” an honor from a man like him. He preferred to work outside rather than inside. He liked to hunt, and shoot, and help his friends. Like me, he preferred to help others rather than ask for help from others. His life had left him with only one eye. Long before I met him he suffered a significant heart attack, but, not knowing how to quit, I guess, he had fought his way back to health. And then, a few Christmases ago, he had another major heart attack, this one of the sort sometimes referred to as a “widow maker.” In Daniel’s case, it was the literal truth. He held on for awhile. Some, though not all, family and friends were able to show up in time to bid him farewell, though he never regained consciousness. Shortly thereafter, he died. In his case, that was a good thing. Had he somehow survived he would have been a “cardiac cripple,” a status he would have been unable to tolerate. I have no doubt that had that occurred, he would have departed this life by his own hand. He simply was not a man to be taken care of. I’m glad I was able to tell my friend, my brother, goodbye, though I miss him greatly.

After his cremation, his widow asked me if I would like to have some of his ashes. I assured her that would be an honor (and it was). The picture above, then, is a picture of those ashes. He would approve of me calling it “a picture of my friend and brother, Daniel.”

Do not wait to do what must be done, especially as regards your relationships. Do it now, while there is yet time, so that when someone is gone, you can remember without regret. Regret sucks.