Good By, I Found You a Good Home

Just sold this pistol.

Three years ago, decided to get a CCW permit. Took the eight hour class; passed. Now the “practical”. Seems they expected me to fire from 100 to 200 rounds in a day at the range. WTF? No way I’m putting even 50 rounds out of my .44 Special with a 2 ½” barrel in one day. Superman I’m not.

Purchased a “cheap” Eastern European Walther clone in .380 just for the class. Ended up not following through with the CCW process. The additional $200 or so to the local sheriff pissed me off. Stayed “outlaw”. Fuck em.

Really didn’t like the .380. Had the trigger reworked. Still didn’t like it. So I sold it to a young friend. I’ve been shooting with him. He is safe and responsible. He is happy, and I’m happy with some cash to spend on what I do like.

Oh, the agony of having to decide what to buy! Feel my pain.

Youngest son has a 9x18 Makarov I like. I still miss my .22 revolver. Have always wanted a Colt Woodsman or similar from Ruger. Still upset about the deal I missed by two days and fifty dollars on a pristine .30-.40 Kraig for under $400. My first firearm, bought on my own with my own money, was a Kraig. Think I was around fifteen. Should I stop being totally cheap and get a new Savage package in a .270? Decisions, decisions.

So it is back to lurking around gun shows, gun stores, and Auction Arms. Painful yes, but I will survive. At least there is no significant other to consult (not that I ever did).

Luck of the Irish

My sister and I agree. St Patrick’s Day is for amateurs. We are Irish 24/7. My pal, Hal Swift, sent me this. For those who don’t know, the Truckee River flows (sometimes) through Reno.


The Colorful Truckee River
by Hal Swift

The Truckee River in Downtown Reno
is famous for how it flows.
And Saint Patrick's Day it's always dyed green,
as any Nevadan knows.

But a group of men met in secret one year
and formulated a plan.
They charged themselves with just one task,
to change how the river ran.

Boyle and Brady, Buckley and Burke,
Costello, and Casey and Carroll.
The toughest cowpokes this side of Saint Jo,
like Foley, Fitzgerald, and Farrell.

Protestant cowpokes, the boys set out,
and they all knew exactly why.
They rode upriver a mile-and-a-half,
with a hundred barrels of orange dye.

They didn't know that Catholic cowpokes
had rode up two miles or so.
They had 'em a hundred barrels of green,
and dumped it into the flow.

Hamilton, Hogan, Kelly and Lynch,
O'Connell, O'Donnell, and Shea.
All set up a shout, as the green poured out,
and quickly was carried away.

Downriver, the Protestants heard the shout,
and hastened the work they'd begun,
to get their orange in the Truckee first.
And quickly, the deed was done.

They mounted up and rode back to town,
to see the results of their prank.
The Protestants stood on the river's north side,
and the Catholics took the south bank.

Someone hollered from off to the west,
"Get ready, boys, here she comes!"
Then, along the river, the shouting stopped,
from a shock of the kind that numbs.

It had only taken a matter of minutes
for that dye to reach downtown.
But the green and the orange had mixed together
and the river had turned dark brown.

If you think that ended it, guess again
the fight goes on each year.
But the green and the orange you find these days,
is only in the cowpokes' beer.

And the reason the boys're drinkin' such stuff
is enough to make a grown man quiver.
The EPA threatened 'em all with jail
for pollutin' the dadblamed river.

But hope springs eternal in a cowpoke's heart,
and some Saint Patrick's dawn
you'll find the Truckee's dyed orange or green,
and the one who did it is gone.

A light hearted Holiday. Those of us who care to remember know that over a million Irish died in the potato famines. There was no lack of food. The land owners, often absentee, continued to ship grain and meat to Great Britain while the peasants, who relied on potatoes for the majority of their calories, were starved and driven off the land. Unbridled capitalism at it’s worst. Catholic, Protestant, or Ulster Scots, if peasants, suffered equally.

That is why us Irish descendants don’t trust the son of a bitch 1%. We know history often repeats itself.

That was then, this is now. Enjoy the day! And for my spud fucker brethren, watch out for the amateurs.

Political Thoughts

WARNING: Long, rambling, personal political discourse. Read at your own peril.

Inspired by a remark by Old NFO. Not his fault - please don't stone him.

“You take people as far as they will go, not as far as you would like them to go”
Jeannette Rankin

“The individual woman is required a thousand times a day to choose either to accept her appointed role and thereby rescue her good disposition out of the wreckage of her self-respect, or else follow an independent line of behavior and rescue her self-respect out of the wreckage of her good disposition.”
Jeannette Rankin quotes (American Politician She was the first woman to serve in Congress (1917-19), 1880-1973)


People who stand by their convictions I admire. I may not agree with them, even emphatically disagree, but still admire them. Jeannette Rankin was the first woman elected to Congress. From Montana, she was elected as a “Peace” candidate. Voted against our entry in WWI and was defeated in the next election. A few years later, she was again elected to Congress as a “Peace” candidate. Voted against our entry in WWII and was defeated in the next election. Those who voted for her got what they elected. Woman had integrity.

Most all of my father’s family were involved in politics at the local and county level. At various times, my father was a GOP precinct committeeman, election judge, county chairman, candidate for Sheriff, and state delegate. My mother served for decades as an election judge. As an aside, my father was also a union shop steward. Uncles and aunts were active in adjacent counties. I don’t think any of them every made a dime off politics. It was all about citizenship.

My first direct involvement in politics was in college. Metro State in Denver had a large veteran student body. The VA at that time wasn’t responsive. Sort of a, “We won WWII and you punks are losing in Vietnam”. Harsh? Damn Skippy. Talk to a Korean vet sometime.

When you enrolled each quarter, you ran a gauntlet, past the cashier, of tables with various organizations (La Raza, Black Panthers, CORE, NAACP, Students for a Democratic Society, Friends of Transgender Cats, etc.) lining the hall. Two other vets and I had a table labeled “Metro Veterans Assoc”. We had over 400 vet students sign, complete with service numbers and branch, a letter of complaint to President Johnson. Those who followed after us grew the organization to a statewide 3,000 member organization. We had some epic confrontations with the VA, VFW, and the American Legion.

A student, who became my wife, was involved in the USO. The Air Force, at Lowry, had a retraining company infected with TB. She would smuggle the Airmen, in the trunk of her car, to a WWII vet doctor for treatment. He raised such hell with his Congressman an investigation was launched. Years later she was hired by the Department of Education as an assistant to a blind investigator. Her background clearance took several months. Her boss told her our combined FBI file was several inches thick. During our first years of marriage, we were under intermittent surveillance. Not paranoid. My neighbor, across the street, was an E-8 Green Beret. He was the one who alerted me. Such is the price of being an activist in the land of the free.

Fast forward a few years. Our first born is autistic. We lived in Utah then and there was little available for him. Seattle had more resources and I was offered a high paying job.

My wife and I, along with others, founded the Washington State Chapter of the National Society for Autistic Children. She was the President for many years and a nearly full time unpaid lobbyist. The original draft of the Education for All Act was written on our dining room table. She and some other pissed off mothers fought for three years to get it passed.

NOTE to Santorum, et al. Pissing off mothers and their daughters WILL get the Lightbringer reelected.

Still in the GOP, I was a county delegate pledged to John Miller during the Reagan sweep. I made my point at the caucus, forcefully, and was tossed out by the Sergeant of Arms. Later I was advised I was NOT welcome back. Oh well, became a Democrat.

Look at the choice. Lukewarm Chicken ala King in a meeting room at the Bellevue Holiday Inn or hearty party at the Longshoreman - Steel Worker’s bar on Harbor Island. Tough call.

Marriage for many of us is hard. Having a handicapped kid makes it even harder. The wife bailed, moved several states away, and left me the kids to raise. She left me for another man, who she thought was wealthy. I wanted to send him a thank you card but was afraid he would send her back. Turned out he was more hat than cattle. Oh well.

We had settled in Renton, WA. I made the mistake of attending a precinct caucus and ended up the precinct committeeman. Did that for a few years until family matters made a move to Colorado necessary.

Can one person make a difference? Hell, yah, at the local level. For example, traffic lights. Renton is home to a Boeing complex and PACCAR (Peterbilt, Kenworth trucks). At shift changes, traffic is horrible. I was agitating at a City Council meeting. The chief traffic screwer upper explained some lights were controlled by the City. Some by the County. Some by the State. My response was along these lines.

“We have the longest serving mayor in the area. Three of the five County Council members list Renton as their home. The Governor list Renton as his home. You mean to tell me there isn’t enough political clout in this town to get traffic lights coordinated? Bullshit, what is lacking is backbones.”

Once again I was escorted from the premises. Go figure! Strange but true; there was an improvement in traffic flow in the weeks that followed.

Get involved. Instead of bitching among friends and at home, bitch (politely) where your input has, however slight, an impact.

My involvement in the political process has greatly widened my social and business contacts. Dealing with government offices and their employees has become much easier. As my sister likes to say, "We have people." In some ways, it has made my career. This was never my goal; it is a by product.

Hope this hasn’t been too boring. Let me close with a quote from Jackie Cooper.

“If you always do, what you have always done, you will always have, what you already got.”

Caucus

Went to my House District Precinct Caucus last night. Usual Democrat function; disorganized and argumentative. This is a redistricting year and many, including me, ended up in a different precinct. Much confusion.

Differences from before that struck me. One, and only one, Obama shirt. The woman had pined a 2010 badge over the 2008 logo. The women "of a certain age" that were there in force two years ago are gone. Somewhat disappointing as my fellow Blue Dog and I weren't able to torture them. A few new faces but mainly the same older group that shows up every time.

There were a few Obama supporters working the room. The comments I overheard about the Lightbringer were of the knee jerk loyalty nature, with no inner fire or excitement. The big focus was on local issue and local candidates, like county commissioners.

Some twit was passing around a two page "Progressive" broadside with claims about Republican votes over the years. I made myself very unpopular by pointing out the erroneous claims (Social Security, Interstate Highway System, etc.). The Progressive folks got quite pissy; a fine conclusion to an interesting evening.

Much to every one's relief, I declined the opportunity to become a county delegate. My Blue Dog friend was selected.

Was it worth the effort? I don't know. I do know I can squander a few hours a month trying to make a difference. But hey! What is title of my blog?

Left Wing Progressive Attack Machine

http://pleasecutthecrap.typepad.com/main/2012/03/limbaughromneyconnection.html

Thanks, Limbaugh, for discrediting conservatives everywhere, and for pissing off at least half the voters.

Damn professional blowhard. Anything for ratings.

Way Up North: Quandary

Way Up North: Quandary

New Iditarod Entry

h/t to Way Up North for the idea and Hal Swift for the poetry
http://www.mooseintheyard.com/2012/03/quandary.html

Huskies Like These?
by Hal Swift

Things here in Reno was quiet last winter
and there weren't that much we could do.
Till one snowy mornin' we hear dogs barkin',
and makin' a hullabaloo.

My boys and me looked out the north barn door,
and there in the cold mornin' fogs,
was a big old boy on a big old sled,
bein' pulled by ten big dogs.

It just so happened the boss's sister,
Matilda, come walkin' up then.
She's a gal that none of us likes a whole lot,
cause she always picks at us men.

"What's the matter?" she says, with a haughty air.
"Never seen dogs pullin' a sled?
The handsome young musher who's drivin' the thing
is a boyfriend of mine, named Ted."

She says, "It'd take a dozen of you,
to be as smart as one of his fingers."
But none of us says anything, you know?
'Cause we ain't too good with the zingers.

The dogs stop runnin', and start restin' up,
and Ted comes walkin' inside.
Matilda says, "Oh, come on, Honeybun!
You promised your snookums a ride."

I sees a frown on young Ted's face,
and I figger he ain't too happy.
But Matilda's smilin' an' giving 'im a look
that's best described as sappy.

Ted looks at us, then he looks at her,
and I can see the boy's plumb wore out.
"Oh come on, Sweetie!" Matilda begs,
and puckers her lips in a pout.

Ted wraps Matilda in a bearskin rug,
then ties her onto the sled.
He climbs on the back, and Matilda winks.
"Let's make this a long ride," she said.

Ted blushes and "mushes," and the dogs take off,
then Ted seems to trip and to fall.
But he lands on 'is feet, and it soon turns out
the boy wasn't injured at all.

Some of us boys see the look on 'is face
as he watches Matilda depart.
From the way he's grinnin', we can tell at a glance,
it ain't really breakin' his heart.

We crowd all around him and somebody says,
"It's all right, we know how ya feel.
That gal could cause a true saint to go bad,
her leavin's a heckuva deal."

Ted says, "I thank you, I just got fed up
with the way that she always is pickin'.
When she said I had to come out to the ranch,
I'd sooner have taken a lickin'."

"How far will them dogs of yours run," I asked,
"before they come bringin' her home?"
Ted sighs and grins, "With Huskies like these?
They'll run till they get t'Nome."

From my pal, Hal Swift, Nevada Poet
http://www.cowboypoetry.com/halswift.htm