Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Stupidity May Save Us: Travon Martin Edition

The Democrats have lost more than one Presidential Election running on a gun control plank. Obama deliberately ignored the subject.

The far right conservatives are doing a bang up job giving away the next election by attacking Roe vs. Wade and the whole contraception issue. They would rather be "right" and "stand on their principals" than realize they can't tell over half the population what that group can, and cannot do, with their bodies. They need to go back and listen to Loretta Lynn. The candidates need to stop shaking that money tree.

I'm a Democrat, Blue Dog faction, and a "Anyone but Obama" voter. I still get a ton of party emails, all soliciting money, and the authors are beating the drums about the women issue. I know many hard core Republican women (like my huge extended family) that are truly pissed.

Now we have the whole Sanford, FL mess. The race baiters are going all in. Unintended consequences? Read Beat and Release.

This is a man who has walked the walk and talks the talk as clearly as anyone you may read.

This "all in" by the Lightbringer and fellow travelers may just be what the country needs to wipe out white guilt and get people energized. Wonder how it will play with the Hispanics? Like, the Lightbringer has already fairly well screwed them.

My thoughts on the Travon Martin issue? Let the Sanford, FL criminal justice system handle it. Same reaction I had when O.J. was acquitted. The jury listened to a year's testimony and found him "not guilty". If they got it wrong, it is on them and the idiot judge. No system is always right, all the time. What else do we have?

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Railroad Robbery

Blood pressure rising. Stupid, absolute waste of our taxpayer money to bolster the economy of Las Vegas.

We, the taxpayers, guarantee a loan, 4.9 Billion, to a private company, to build a high speed rail line from Victorville, CA to Sin City, to save gamblers and party animals a 190 mile, 2 hour drive.

Let us think this through. You arrive at Victorville, find a parking spot, go through TSA (you know they will have that), and zip off to Las Vegas. How much time will you really save? One small benefit; a reduction of drunks on Interstate 15. One big detriment, a loss of anonymity.

Who benefits? Oh, lots of pork to spread. Consultants, lawyers for the inevitable environmental impact suits, consultants, PR flacks, some construction jobs, dues to the unions (think it will be built without union labor?), steel orders for the Chinese, etc. Reminds me of a statement from a Seattle Mayor’s aide, “Now that we have actually built a damn West Seattle bridge, it hardly pays to be in politics.”

Similar boondoggle? The “Road Runner” Santa Fe to Albuquerque.

Worst of all, the Lightbringer’s administration is supporting this. Payoff to Harry Reid?
If all of Las Vegas shut down tomorrow, what would be the impact on the rest of the country? Sorry folks, the Hoover Dam, built with the taxpayers money, is what makes modern Las Vegas possible.

Alternatives? Two years out of date.

Use existing infrastructure? Nah, not sexy enough and not enough potential graft.

Yes to Concealed Carry

Daughter in law (FDIL) has started the process of obtaining her CCW. Five kids and an active duty military husband; I'm all in on this.Can she shoot?

Monday, March 19, 2012

New Gun Purchase

My neighbor has four dogs who bark, a lot.

This squirts over twenty feet. My deck is sixteen feet off the ground. I'm able to cover a lot of the neighbor's yard.

Now, when the dogs bark, they get wet, and run into their house via their doggy door. When they see me on the deck with something in my hand they start running.

You were expecting a .458 Casull?

Saturday, March 17, 2012

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).

Friday, March 16, 2012

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.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

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.”

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


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?

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Left Wing Progressive Attack Machine

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

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

Thursday, March 1, 2012

"White Knight" Presidential Candidate

Waco Walmsley for President
by Hal Swift

This is a story that Waco Walmsley
doesn't too often discuss.
It's about when he ran for the president's job
and all the resulting fuss.

You see, he allowed himself to get
into one of them big debates.
He didn't reckon that it'd be seen
by the whole United States.

When asked to describe the perfect marriage
his opponent turned and ran.
But not old Waco. He says, "I think
it's between a woman and man."

The subject of taxes came to the front,
and Waco allowed as how
they'd be okay as long as they don't
take the en-tire price of a cow.

The reporter makes a big mistake when she
asks what he thinks about schools.
Waco grins and says, "If reporters attended,
they wouldn't turn out such fools."

The reporter totally loses her cool,
and calls him a Chauvinist Pig.
Waco squints his good eye and says,
"At least I ain't wearin' a wig."

The reporter yells, "I'm not wearing a wig!
This hair all belongs to me!"
"Maybe so," says Waco, "but my opponent wears one.
It's as plain as plain can be.

"And I got to tell you, it makes me wonder
what else don't we know about?"
Now, Waco's opponent, who's close to tears,
lets out a defiant shout.

He figures it's time to take a stand,
and to make some sort of defense.
He swings at Waco, which anyone knows,
shows a lack of plain horse sense.

Well, Waco decks him, right then and there.
sayin', "I ain't cut out for this.
Find somebody else to run for this office,
it's somethin' that I won't miss."

So that's how Waco was almost elected
to our country's most powerful post.
Folks say he'd surely have won because
he's the candidate they liked most.

But Waco says, "There's a lesson in this,
it's the way things always have been.
In any election, you got to remember
the best man don't always win."

From my pal. Hal Swift, Nevada Poet