Stupid Mistakes

Unlike many others, I am never assured of safety behind my windows and doors. I knew this when I first took up with a LEO. Retribution was always a possibility. But things amped up with the move here. And of course it’s only getting worse as the days go by.

Therefore, I am never more than a few feet away from a weapon. But last night I got lazy or forgetful. It was late and I was shutting down the net, getting ready to turn out the light when I heard the sound that I would have sworn was a pants leg brushing and a step…

My first thought was for the dog – outside, damn it. Then I could see in my mind the gun on the kitchen counter, left after finishing the cleaning up. My hand went for the next option from the pencil cup on my desk – it wasn’t much but it was sharp. After another moment of listening, I got up to investigate. Thank goodness it was just the cat, moving around on my rain jacket, carelessly cast aside earlier. “Asshole,” I told him, stroking his soft, sleepy head.

But it was a dark reminder. The gun is useless when it isn’t to hand. And the dog is to be wherever I am, damn it. Much as he was all last week when I wasn’t out of his sight.

I’d had a dream recently – running back into the house for a forgotten something, door left unlocked, ajar. Two men crashed through it and I had no time at all to react. It, too, was a reminder that no matter how much of a bad-ass I may be (even if only in my own mind) I do not have the training to handle that sort of thing.

I am sure there is language to describe it, studies made year after year, to deal with that surprise and halt to action, moments of decision rather than implementation of repetitive training.

Fact is, I need to watch my ass, be smarter by 100%, and get some fracking holsters and use the damned things.

Shock and awe, indeed. I am not prepared…but at least I know where to start.

A New Motto

Mightily applicable in many situations, V-man’s erudition again rears its – um…never mind that.
He notes, “Even my old grammy told me, before I ventured out into the big bad world, never to turn my back on a prostitute or a fire.”

Can someone put that on a plaque somewhere when I die? As apt an epitaph as I ever read…


You know, I was once a punk from Chicago. I never imagined my life would bring me to the south. I assumed it would be all dark, dank, dangerous living from one horror to the next. It was all I’d known, after all.

And yet…here I am. If you haven’t SEEN much of the state, you cannot truly comprehend the people here. There is no hesitation to stand for the anthem, no hat remains on head, 2/3’rds of the crowd salute. And not merely out of some sort of vague notion of propriety.

When Trooper first came to academy for an interview he pulled up just as they were mounting the flags in that early morning light. People STOPPED THEIR CARS on the side of the road, got out, and waited patiently with hands on hearts. This is no place for moderate patriotism – it’s a place where it is most basic and sincere. It is in the very soul of the people.

And now, the question of secession…the post here covers it rather well. My only complaint with much of the talk on the subject is this: quit looking to history and law, and congress for permission to do what we, as a people, wish to do.

No one who ever led a revolution did it within the confines of the “law”. I’ve been watching the History Channel – a program called “The Revolution” – well worth the purchase as it has been a kind of primer on the matter. Too, I was woefully ignorant of the entire thing, having passed over history class in order to perform some financial matters in the Ladies, instead. But it has refreshed my thinking.

You don’t ASK for your freedom. You Demand it. You Expect it. You Assume it.

Which should not be read as it will be a walk in the park. It will be heartache and death, hunger and fear. But it can be done. And I hope it shall be.

Long Week Gone

He’s in his bed, asleep, on the border (“…with Delamere…”) for one last night. Thank goodness for that because word is things have gone all pear-shaped southward. It’s been a long week with a lot of work and not nearly as much done around the house as I’d hoped.

But the garden’s in…and it wasn’t that hard to move all that dirt from the back of his truck. Sure, I could have driven across the lawn for proximity but…I’ve a very good wheel barrow that made short work of it.

And now I cannot get this little *ping* out of my mind, having stumbled on the song in my mind tonight. “Dance a little closer tonight…”

Och, I’ve missed him…

Hurried and Varied

I am waiting on my sister – we’ve gardening to do while the sun doesn’t shine which in the TX heat is a great thing. Meanwhile, there is a fat LOT of material to work with these days…

Something semi-cheering: a great t-shirt for your next rabble rousing. H/T – The Porch

V-man addresses the real cause of failure in the automotive market with his usual application of erudition. Reminded me how pissed off this latest video made me the other day. John Rich – complaining about how the gov’t is “Shutting Detroit Down“. Aw, get the hell outta here! They priced their asses out of the fucking market. You wanted a union? You got one. And with them, you ate your seed corn. Want a song? Jack’s got one for you.

Billy tackles all the “noise about torture“. My friends – there are a generous plenty of men who pay rather a lot of money for far worse treatment. Only difference is the women are in leather and spikey heels. And instead of calling it torture, it’s a “lifestyle choice”. I always want to ask people – right now, here and now – choose: kneeling in front of a snarling dog with panties on your head or I cut off your head with a dull knife, taking my time. Choose. Choose you dumb son of a bitch, right fucking now. (Aw hell, don some leather and heels and express the same and walk away with $1,000. Might as well make a profit from it.)

So there – that’s what I’ve got for you today. Have a great day!