What Happened?

Alarm clocks aren't needed when you're fourteen and Gramma was cooking for the crew. You'd been laying awake the last twenty minutes- since the first car announced its arrival in the fresh fallen snow of the drive. You could hear the doors open, booted feet packing the snow under them, the doors closing. A moment later, the soft greetings voiced by the arrivals.

"MMMMM, Irene, now I know where the girls learned to cook!" one uncle announces and you can visualize him hugging his mother-in-law, crushing her aproned bosom in his bear size arms.

You recognize what has been tingling your nostrils in your sleep, can hear the sounds of plates thumping on the table, silver tinkling its placement. Getting dressed was a matter of haste not because of the cold of the upstairs room in the wood heated home, but because the scent of eggs and pancakes fried in bacon grease delighted your hungry stomach and you rush barefooted down the stair to find your place at the table, followed close by your youngster uncles.

"Good morning, Young Fellow- ready for today?" Your uncle's greeting is soft as his greet of Gramma. You nod wide awake, as your young uncles are.

Talk around the table is of past years, of the locations and positions each person would attend to this day, and probably the entire season. Half a dozen plate size pancakes, four eggs and as many slices of thick sliced, farm smoked bacon are devoured in-- for you-- record time. No dilly-dally today cuz Grampa and Uncle have already done the chores normally reserved for "you boys". Feed and water the cattle, pick up the eggs you were now consuming, haul in a load of wood for the cook stove.

('Scuse me... something's tight in my chest making my eyes water in the memory.)

It isn't long before you're all donning heavy sox and boots, warm wool pants and shirts and coats and hats, all in red and black checkerboard pattern, though you just had to be different and had a red and green checkerboard.

Last minute instructions from Grampa as you played "follow the leader" through the calf deep snow beyond the barn. Slung in the crook of your elbow, as the others carried theirs, the octagonally barreled 32-20 Marlin seemed anxious to speak its mind. Your heart is beating fast as you follow the footsteps ahead of you, last in line. (The pecking order had to be followed.) Excitement is warming you and by the time you've reached your "stand", you're hot and sweaty and you've opened your coat to cool down. In minutes you'll be shivering in the dark, waiting, watching, listening hard to the falling snow, the bird sounds waking, the wind sloughing through the dark pines and leafless maple and birch and popple.

Your mind is racing, wondering if you forgot anything, and you do a mental check of your pockets... drag rope is in the left coat pocket, in the right is an egg sandwich-- "sammich" you kids jokingly called them-- and your jeans have ten extra bullets, sheath knife is on the belt holding your pants to your shivering legs. Yup, it's all there.

And you wait and wait. Off in the distant east the sky is brightening to day. And you wait.

Somewhere a gunshot echoes to your ears.

Another, somewhere far from your position.

And another...

Only one deer season passed from Gramma's house for me. Following years we kids followed Grampa and several uncles to old logging camps and did our hunting from there.

As we aged, even the single walled board buildings gave way to more and more complicated hunting domiciles. Today the "hunting shack" is transported, and lives, on the pickup to locations far from home.

The cold morning, toe-curling shivers of Gramma's floor are replaced by propane warmed linoleum flooring. Gone is the hunger-induced scent of frying eggs and pancakes and bacon, replaced by dry air, the smell of man-odors and wet woolens. Now breakfast is whipped up and cooked on the propane range-- still hearty for sure, just "not the same" as fondly recalled in seasons past. And it isn't Gramma's loving hands piling your plate with thick cakes, fat-basted eggs and thick chunks of bacon.

The rattling old Marlin 32-20 was foolishly-- and regretfully-- traded for a more modern .303 British carbine a couple years later. That carbine served many years as a young'un, later replaced by shining brand-spanking new Mossberg .308 bolt which gave way to a bright, super accurate 30-06 Savage.

Finally, after years of grieving for the loss, a new Marlin in .357 has replaced the 32-20 and will be cradled in my arms, fiddled with as I wait or held ready at "port arms" if I am stalking as track.

Now as I ready for the next week end opener, I marvel at the pile of gear I will be packing and I wonder.

Whatever happened to the days when all I needed was the rifle, a few shells, a knife and drag rope, supplemented by a single sandwich getting cold in my pocket?

Even a compass was unnecessary gear those many years ago. Getting "lost" was unheard of for us-- though city slickers were often found the following summer because they didn't know how to use the compass in their pocket. (Until joining the Army, I'd never seen a compass, truth be told, and had never been lost. [Though now I get lost going out the back door].)

Now there are saws and seat cushions and hand warmers and rubber "dressing" gloves and towels and hand sanitizer (be cautious with that stuff in cold weather cuz it achieves air temperature and can freeze your paws soon as it gets on), books (I read my Bible on stand), cameras and bags of goodies, and safety belts and half a dozen items that will be thrown in last-minute.

No longer does the "Kid" walk from the house to the stand, no matter how close it is. The trip is made on the four-wheeler now. Fast, noisy, stinky, there is no sound of boots crunching snow, of feeling the ice form on pant cuffs and listen to it click with each step. Even the sweat of dragging the deer out has been replaced with driving to the kill spot, load the carcass onto the four-wheeler rack and drive off.

Whatever happened to the days when hunting was fun, had meaning and substance?

What happened?

(And the voice rings in my ears, "Don't sweat it, Kid- those days will be here soon enough for everyone again. The old fashioned, poo-poo'd way.")

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

Welcome to my world

Shamelessly (though cautiously) stolen from Sipsey Street Irregulars. Welcome to the Revolution, Folks. Or, as the singer sings, "Welcome to my world."

Not that I mind being called a terrorist if it means "someone who loves his country and will live to defend it, and die if needed". But it's heart-breaking to know that it is my own government defining me as such.

Oh, well. Reckon I can't expect much from people who think it's OK to kill babies so long as the Snail Darters are safe.

Got a great big OOPSIE coming up, too. Gee, I wonder if they're gonna come get me because I'm sure as hell going to refuse to be politically correct just because a bunch of wussies tell me I can't call a fag a fag because it hurts their poor sensibilities.

Oh, gee, pity the poor fags. Almost brings me to tears. Wait- sorry... I didn't mean to lie to you all (y'all for those down South). Doesn't even come close to bringing me to tears.

But I will apologize for getting started on a rant.

Second thought, no I won't. It'd be PC to apologize for speaking my mind, even though it is a God-given and Constitutional right.

Bless God, God bless (and He and I are gonna have a talk about this- me keeping my mouth shut and Him doing the talking)

Shy III

Wussy Chris Matthews meets a Man

Found on Mike Vanderboegh's "Sipsey Street Irregulars"... posted here because it's definitely worth spreading around. JSW....

"I have to tell you, you know, it's part of reporting this case, this election, the feeling most people get when they hear Barack Obama's speech. My, I felt this thrill going up my leg. I mean, I don't have that too often. No, seriously. It's a dramatic event. He speaks about America in a way that has nothing to do with politics. It has to do with the feeling we have about our country. And that is an objective assessment." -- Chris Matthews

http://newsbusters.org/blogs/brad-wilmouth/2008/02/13/matthews-obama-speech-caused-thrill-going-my-leg

Chris Matthews, MSNBC host, inferred during his program this evening, that Stuart Rhodes, of OathKeepers, was guilty of creating black helicopter and and other paranoiac incidents. To which Rhodes reportedly responded, "We swear an oath to the Constitution, not a man, even if he makes a thrill run up your leg when he talks."

Matthews is reported to have blinked once and began a more earnest attack of Rhodes, and by innuendo others, of similar thought.

Look for this to be all over the web starting tonight, 20 Oct, and be sure to share the links.

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

Signing Petitions

"I'm in a quandary about signing anti gun control petitions, because if I had any guns, I wouldn't want anybody to even suspect I had any, and the more violently you object to gun control, the more likely they are to suspect you have guns!

Any petition you sign will (probably instantaneously) put you on all of the gov's suspect lists."

So read the Email from a friend today. Someone who I've been trying to get on board with standing up for his rights as an American. Not only his Second Amendment rights, but all Ten of them. Starting with the First. Our right to disagree with, petition to, and even- at time- agree with, are bound in the First and protected by the Second- as any who understand our Founding Fathers knows that they put the Second Amendment in to protect our right to all of them. As well as to make any necessary drastic changes needed to the government they were initiating.

"Standing up for his rights as an American."

No other country on the planet has so much freedom, so much choice, so much power, relegated to its citizens. (Too bad so few practice those rights!)

"WOW! That is poetry! You MUST put that on your blog! If you don't, I will put it on mine." His response to my answer to his quandary.

My response, such as it is and has been reported here at other times as well on many Constitution oriented blogs...

"That's not a quandary as I see it.

I'm not concerned with them knowing I have guns- I want them to know it. The more people they know have weapons they are willing to use to defend the Constitution and this country, the less willing they will be to attempt at 1) disarming us, 2) starting a war they know they cannot win, 3) less likely for the U.N. or other foreign invaders to think they can just come in and sweep through us.
You have to understand that we Constitutional, Bible-believing gun owners are NOT interested in starting a war, but we WILL finish it. Also, you need to know that I am too old and too damned tired to run any more. If they want me, they can come get me- but I'm NOT going peacefully. I will take at least as many of them as they take of me.
Honestly, Tom- this is a really BIG issue with millions of Americans who believe in God, the Bible, the Constitution and a Free Republic, for which we stand.
We are so very tired of compromise and giving in and losing ground to the damn communists and liberal assholes who want to turn this country into a Socialist/Marxist country.
It isn't that we want to start a war, are interested in it or desiring of one, because we are not. But we will no longer be backed up: every gun owner in America has to decide where they will draw the line in the sand and tell the liberal dotgov they are not allowed to cross that line, and we will defend that line. And, if you read anything beyond what the MSM puts out- such as laws that are now before the Houses of dotgov- you will see they are so willing and trying very hard to cross that line. The only thing keeping them from doing so is the myriad American Patriots who own guns they will begrudgingly use.
Look, I'm sorry if I rag on you about this, but my Country- America- is my last stand. I will not be moved. God- my God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit- is my God. I will not have them relegated to a position behind Allah or any Muslim creation. Nor will I back up and run because the Muslim world says they will kill me if I don't join them. I will not join, period. Nor will I allow my dotgov to denigrate the Words of my God or put Him and His people- Christians and Israeli- into a status lower than worms.
This country is where I live, what I love, and I will not see it turned into a Marxist-anti-capitalist state run by the fedgov when the Law of the Land clearly states we are a nation "Of the People, By the People, For the People". Not the fed.
Should I be killed because of my beliefs and love of God and my Country and its Constitution, then so be it. God is in control.
Besides- I've been on every black list they've got for forty years, no way am I getting off it."

I'd like to take this opportunity to enlarge that thought... not that it needs it for any who love this country, but because I feel the desire.
This country was founded upon People's Rights. Human Rights, if you will. The right to pursue our dreams- succeed or fail, the dreams were in our hands, not the fedgov. The right to personal protection- both our physical selves and our property. Our Founding Fathers knew the fedgov/dotgov has no right to inoculate (pun intended) any unwilling person: invasion of privacy, security in person and home is inviolate, in spite of the programs being initiated now by the Dark Lord's henchmen. Our Founding Fathers knew the Republic they were establishing was going to become an evil and scurrilous bastard child, so they incorporated the means for the believers in Freedom to restrain that beast in the Second Amendment.
That our Founders understood People to be more important than government is obvious in their placement of the Human Rights Amendments ahead of the rights of the government. It's people who are governed, but should be only mildly so to do as their God and our Founders knew was right: live peacefully and in harmony with each other and God, to grow as a nation the entire world could look to and see how it is supposed to be done.

"We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

That was their Line in the Sand.
Where have you drawn yours?
Bless God, God bless-
Shy III

Changeing Times

Dylan made them famous. The times, they sure are a'changing.

Which brings up the Wonderful Woman in my life. Notice, if you will, the removal of some pictures from these pages. A change due to reaction of M'Lady due to the changing political scene of this country.

Our esteemed AG, and her boss, has seen fit to brand Patriots, Bible believers, anti-illegal immigration advocates, pro-Constitution-anti-communist government, pro-life, pro-Second Amendment people, as 'terrorists' and has caused much consternation in my Young Lady's heart. So much that she begged, then ordered, removal of any identifiable images to slow down identification of this writer. (I have to chuckle, though, as we discussed this since I am reasonably certain said writer is on dotgov listings already, complete with military records and every idea ever espoused concerning the Constitution and this country's need to return to Constitutional Law. I think part of her reasoning, unmentioned and perhaps unknown to her, is that she didn't want some lib-terrorist-commie to print any targets. LOL- kidding.) To keep peace in the family I removed the offending images.

But she certainly is correct in so many things and this is one of them. The times, they are a'changeing.

Hinted at in the previous post and those of so many others, the time is fast approaching when Americans will be shooting Americans. Literally. Not just across the bow of blogs and protest marches and in political hallways. We'll be using live ammunition-- so have plenty on hand!-- and there will be no holds barred. There will be no way to tell one player from another since we'll all be wearing the same kind of clothing. An even more appalling aspect will be that skin color is not going to be a deciding factor in who is a target.

Not that we are not now "embroiled in a civil war" (to use Lincoln), because we are. Whether we admit it or not, there is a war among the masses, black and white and yellow and brown and red. It's being waged daily in all venues.

Every time someone tells me I'm a racist for not voting for the Dark Lord (or calling him such) or for not backing his communist plans and wishing him failure, they are adding to the conflict. Not just my side of it, but theirs as well. I hear such foolish talk all around me from people who should know better but don't. And all they're doing is trying to show me they aren't racist. But they are. Plus, they are making me racist. Well, I'm allowing it, for sure-- only I can decide how I will think and believe so it isn't right to blame others for it. So, if I am "going to have the name, I'm going to have the game" so to speak. I have become a "racist".

I am a racist: I hate Communists. I am a racist: I hate Socialists. I am a racist: I hate abortionists. I am a racist: I hate pro-abortionists. I am a racist: I hate tyranny. I am a racist: I hate nanny-state government. I am a racist: I hate people telling me what I have to believe and Who. I am a racist: I hate anyone who runs down my country. I am a racist: I hate anyone trying to destroy my country. I am a racist: I hate any who want to limit God-given rights such as Freedom of Speech and Self Defense (or defense of others, for that matter!). I am a racist: I hate anyone who wants to control every aspect of my life. I am a racist: I hate any who take what is mine to give to others. I am a racist: I hate anyone who tells me they are going to kill me because I don't believe as they do. I am a racist: I will defend myself to the best of my abilities. I am a racist: I will defend what is mine from all enemies, foreign and domestic. I am a racist.

So, as the expression is: "Put that in your funken wagnells and wriggle it!"

But this current conflict is daily going deeper into the collective consciousness of this nation.

When we see school children on a bus brutally beating another child; when we see school children chasing another and killing him; when we see mob rule by Gestapo-acting law enforcement; when we see rioting citizens destroying private property; when we see our family and friends taking violent sides, the conflict in our mind is being fed, programmed and inflamed. We are being fed racism and hate and it is destroying our conscience.

We wonder how can this be happening here? To us? To America? When will this madness end? Yet, deep inside our gut, we know it is not going to end in any manner we are accustomed to: not by peaceful means. We are Americans and so long have been shielded by distant borders from the reality that another continent has lived with daily for thousands of years. Our distance from the world has made us a better people, yet has blinded our senses to truth.

And we feel a fear, that gnawing sensation that tightens inside and sends chills over our body and know beyond doubt there will be blood but we don't want to face it. We want whole-hearted to be at peace in a greedy, self-aggrandizing and self-gratifying world that does not want peace. Our head feels tight being unable to fully grasp what is coming at us. The pressure builds to confusion and uncertainty how we are going to react.

And when the time comes, our actions will be forced upon us. We will react in a mode of self-preservation. Woe to those who are bringing it upon us. Collectively, we Americans are "entering upon a Great Battlefield of that war, testing whether this nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure" the travesties being brought to bear upon a people that wants only to be master of their own destiny, to succeed or fail by their own merits. "...it is... for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us... that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

So be it.

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

R.O.E. and Thinking Out Loud

War has its casualties, both in the combat zone and at home. A lamentable aspect of war. Sadly, in a combat zone, there are no civilians- a lesson we should have learned well in VietNam. But didn't. The Brits learned it during the Revolution- why didn't we?

As in VietNam, our military leaders in Iraq and Afghanistan, have their hands tied by political wussies in Washington D.C., and tied especially tightly by a "leader" who does all he can to denigrate his country and ignore his generals.

The result of all this is called "Rules of Engagement" (ROE) and further defined by "Law of Armed Conflict" (LOAC). Both run hand in hand with the Geneva Convention. All are backed by Article VI of the U.S. Constitution under "Treaties".

And the result of all this is more of our combat soldiers being killed by politics.

www.strategypage.com/htmw/htwin/20090928.aspx

www.captainsjournal.com/2009/09/08/taliban-ambush-in-eastern-kunar-kills-four-u-s-marines

"...U.S. commanders, citing new rules to avoid civilian casualties, rejected repeated calls to unleash artillery rounds at attackers dug into the slopes and tree lines — despite being told repeatedly that they weren’t near the village..."

It's not that I think the Constitution should be changed: what I think is that this country needs to rethink the treaties it signs. Only fools think both sides of a conflict will agree and abide by words on paper. And the side that does abide suffers most.

Imagine getting into a bar fight... before the festivities begin, both 'contestants' have a beer while discussing the ROE. "No biting, no hair pulling, no groin shots, no hits to the head, no strikes to the back, no eye gouging or nose biting." Then the fight begins.

Guess what.

The first one to bite, pull hair, eye gouge, kick the balls and beat the other bloody is going to win that fight. No two ways about it. There is no such thing as a "fair fight" if you want to walk away. If you want "fair", put the troops on a football or soccer or baseball field and let them play games. The only "fair" fight is the one you lose. And in combat, losing a fight means you're dead.

Why, in God's Name, do we want to handicap our fighting forces?

OK- I brought it up, so the topic is open and all the sparrows in the audience will say that, "God doesn't want us to fight let alone fight dirty." To which I am going to reply, "Check your Bible and show me where God tells Israel, or anyone, to fight 'clean'." Read close, cuz you won't find it. No more than you'll find that God says we shouldn't defend ourselves when attacked. (Of course, this brings a whole new perspective to warfare and self defense which is going to need covering later. Hmmm, sounds as though I'm making work for myself. Oh, well...)

Pressing onward and upward...

I'm having to sort some thoughts here, so bear with me... it isn't that I want to see our soldiers killing every civilian they see in their AO. Not in the least. That would be just that: killing. Not justifiable in any way. But... when the enemy is hiding behind his 'civilian status', it's time to change tactics and gouge eyes. War is not a football field where opponents wear pretty color-coordinated outfits. You can't tell the players from the on-lookers, and that being the case, the on-looker had better do something about it or be willing to suffer the consequences.

What I do want to see is giving the Generals charge of the military, not wishy-washy anti-America politicians, even though one of them is supposed to be CIC- which role he has no idea how to perform. (Maybe Alinsky does? Or Peloshitshi?) A phrase we're all familiar with is "collateral damage". Shit happens. Especially in war. Putting a fancy title to it doesn't change it, just makes it more palatable so our effeminate senses aren't horrified at the breakfast table.

My opinion is that more of us should be offended at the breakfast table. Or lunch counter. Or dinner table. Or while we sit and watch jocks play grab-ass on a field. Of course, that would take a free press. (Damn! Here I go- hoping for something that no longer exists! Speaking of which: has anyone noticed that Fox's ratings are 222% higher than the combined total of the major networks?)
It's time Americans spoke up about the truth of what ROEs and LoACs and the Geneva Convention are doing to our sons and daughters. Not to mention the U.N. conventions that are going to enslave or kill Americans.

All right- rant over. Not that I've settled anything more in my mind: I can see the day coming when ROEs and LoACs will be whined about in this country, when the shooters won't be able to distinguish between soldier and civilian. When the time comes, just remember:

"There are no civilians in a combat zone. Just targets."

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

Picture provided by http://www.bfreaky.com/ I waffled about adding it but it says so much. JSW.

Paige Bennethum

Lovely Lady keeps me abreast of the kind of news she knows will jerk my heartstrings and the kind of pictures that make me eat my heart out... this shot of Paige Bennethum, taken by her mother Abby, is one of those shots. The kind any news shooter will spend half a lifetime wanting to get and never does.

The closest I came, and was liberally complimented on the shots, was doing a piece on Hmong homecomings- following them thru the day as the group made their way through their first day on American soil. "This is how people are supposed to be shot!" the news director said of the shots. Made my day, and I know this shot is making Abby Bennethum's day, as well.

But not as much as it will make her day when her husband and Paige's father returns from combat.

I pray for these men, the heroes who walk among us.

It probably won't happen, but Paige and her mother should be on every newscast, every talk show, every newspaper and blog site in America. Prayers for these men and their families should be on every lip each morning and evening as well. "Pray without ceasing." We are admonished by our God, yet fall so short of it. Forgive me that sin, Oh God!

Read the whole article here: www.readingeagle.com/article.aspx?id=160471

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

Awards

Whatever happened to the days when an award meant something?

Nowadays, the dumbest shits get awards for doing nothing more than existing on other peoples' time.

Tell me, Dark Lord: what kind of shit is that?

Dangit, I absolutely really hate when I dunno which sentence goes first.

Okay, enuff politics- nothing being said here that hasn't been around the web and radio and TV since 0300 this morning. Screw the shithead and the people he rode in on. Played for a sucker by the entire world and thinking that he's suckering us as he is (being suckered).

More important news has come in: Threeper Flags.

Hopefully, everyone in America is aware of what the Three Percenters are, as well as the Oath Keepers. We've all been bitching and whining and moaning about "Oh, gee whizz, what do I do?"

Well, here's your chance to stand up and make a statement that will confuse and mystify followers of the Dark Lord, though not for long 'cuz they'll surely be asking, "What is that?"

That is a Threeper Flag. Be sure to order yours now, make a statement and a stand. Let the Jack Booted Thugs know right where they can come if they have the balls. Same for the Gestapo who want to come to your door and 'provide' you with your swine flu inoculation. Piss on them, too.

Minnesota is rumored to be considering mandatory inoculations, door to door if no other way. My only question is, "Do you consider inoculating me worth your life?" That is the only way they'll give me the shot, and I won't be needing it any longer.

While you're ordering your Nyberg Battle Flag (Nyberg created the Threeper Flag), order some Three Percenter patches to go with it. Fly the flag and wear the patches so there's no mistaking Who you are, What you believe, and What you will do in defense of this country.

Grow some balls, boys, and start walking the talk.

Order your flag from: WRSA860 Johnson Ferry Road

Suite 140

Atlanta, GA 30342

Since it's a 'low drama' enterprise, they can only accept cash or USPS money orders. And for $10 Yankee Dollars, you sure as hell can't go wrong- your twelve pack of Shitz beer cost more. The patches are still going cheap as a two bit cigar as well, so order a handful.

Bless God, God bless.

Shy III

Sidebar on flying the Threeper Flag: since it has the original 13 stars and bars, you can fly it in lieu of the 'modern' 50 star flag, or directly beneath it, and be perfectly legal- unless things have changed since I last studied Flag Waving 101.

PS: don't look for a lot of posting since there's nothing going on but the S.O.S. we're all damned tired of. Besides, my dandruff is in such a bind I'm not certain I can maintain any sort of civility these days. Sorry.