UNCIVIL

2009-07-10T17:02:00.004-04:00

Glory Days

2009-07-04T08:27:00.004-04:00

Happy Fourth

Ha, it's my blog and I'll edit if me want's too!!!!
The first clip was "The Good" this next clip is "The Bad & The Ugly"

The Obama Deception

2009-06-28T11:23:00.003-04:00

From duck herding to leash training Abigail......Emily is forever persistent.

2009-06-24T20:42:00.000-04:00

Abigail & Emily meet for the first time during Christmas of 99

2009-06-22T20:30:00.000-04:00

Abigail 99
The early days

2009-06-21T15:03:00.000-04:00

Emily vs Thelma & Lewie

My first home video on this blog since I started it way back in 2006, courtesy of some major help from my buddy " Miss Piggy" at "Hog Heaven"

2009-06-07T09:40:00.000-04:00

Shaolin Master or Master Gasper?

Just what was Master Po teaching young Kwai Chang Caine at the Shaolin temple?

Is that how Master Po went blind?

I'll have to admit, I didn't learn anything about this stuff in my martial arts studies?

But google and wikipedia have enlightened me on the subject matter!

Gotta kick out of this article from Wiki! Hey, don't blame me...it was on wikipedia's external links list?

I've done some sick chit in my day, but I've never tried this? Am I missing something?

Hurry up and get to the comment section. I'm holding my breath? LOL!

What a way to go????!!!!

2009-06-02T20:56:00.000-04:00

I like to watch this when it's hot outside. Plus I couldn't wait for Christmas to post the darn thing. I salute your spirit Bailey!

Haha....Long lost cousin!!!! What a dog!!!! I thought this was the same dog at first?

2009-05-21T19:42:00.000-04:00

Cybersquatting?

Brings a whole new meaning to Spaceballs don't it!
Space toilet fit for a Druish Prince.

I'm just full of it today!

Zero Gravity Style

Where's my Groom of the Stool?

2009-05-01T18:09:00.000-04:00

Sniper Apprenticeship.....See Spot spot?

2009-04-24T19:58:00.000-04:00

Poodle from Hell????

Borrowed this photo from google images.....but, the little shit looked alot like this one?

I got home for lunch and there was the cutest little poodle sitting in the road in front of my house. It was wearing a red t-shirt and sat there like it owned the place? Completely adorable!!!!!!
I came out to where it was and it ran over to my neighbors and got under her car.
She said it jumped out of some lady's car at "Go-Gas" two days ago and no-one has been able to catch it since?

Well, it made the mistake of going in the fenced area behind my trailer and I shut the gate and trapped it in there!

That's when all hell broke loose? That adorable little poodle went frikkin' psycho when I tried to get my hands on her!!!
I can't count how many dozens of times I chased that crazy little bitch around and around my back porch and deck area? My shirt was soaked from perspiration, and I was giving out of breath?
I put some really thick long cuffed leather gloves on and she still bit the shit out of me. I finally managed to put a trash can upside down on top of her, but still couldn't get a good enough grip to grab her and put her in the dog kennel without her biting the shit out of me? She got loose again?

Then, I finally manged to corner her when she tired, and put a plastic tea pitcher over her head while she was biting the hell out of that damn thing and grabbed her behind the neck and threw her in the damn dog kennel!

No way, I was gonna let a damn poodle whip my ass??!!!!

I took her over to the neighbors and told her the best thing to do was put a bullet in that frikkin' psycho dog's head. Of course ,I could never do that but the thought sure as hell crossed my mind. Hell.....I bet the owner doesn't even want the damned crazy little shit back?

I talked to the neighbor when I got off work and she said animal control came to get the little shit and they couldn't figure out how in the hell I was able to get my hands on the little bitch? She said they had to use that damn noose on a pole to get her out of my kennel. They couldn't put their hands on her?
Say's they will keep her for 10 days or until someone claims her? I'd make dog food outta the little winch?

I swear...I believe that little bitch could whip Abigail & Emily's ass at the same time and then bitch slap a pitbull or two?

OK...I almost got done in by a frikkin' poodle...that does alot for my ego!!

2009-04-15T11:50:00.000-04:00

Puppy Love

It seems we have a local rescue/love story that should make national headlines if it were up to me.

My boss who lives in Jacksonville near Camp Lejeune brought the story to my attention just this morning, and said it has been an ongoing saga in the Jacksonville Daily News for many months.

A walker hound affectionately named "Buddy" was finally rescued Monday after a year of eluding his would be rescuers.

His saga began when Albert Ellis Airport employees here in Onslow County NC noticed him hanging around the airport last year. Although no one could get their hands on him, he somehow managed to capture their hearts instead.

Finally after some $3'200 in donations and lots of local media coverage over the year, a bright young lady decided to take matters into her own hands and lured him into rescue with the help of her little beagle "Roxie"!

Amanda Hickey with the Daily News staff has done a wonderful article on the rescue and I think Miss Terri Riggs and her beagle Roxie should be given some kind of award for Terri's smarts and Roxies magnetic animal attraction!

Read here.....Puppy Love Brings Buddy In

and archives here .......more on Buddy

2009-04-04T16:57:00.001-04:00

Picture time for the girls!

2009-03-05T17:18:00.000-05:00

"Why I voted Democrat"

I don't know who wrote this but it does summarize things
Succinctly. For those who may disagree....you ain't seen
nothing yet!

I voted Democrat because I love the fact that I can now
marry whatever I want. So, I've decided to marry my horse.

I voted Democrat because I believe oil companies'
profits of 4% on a gallon of gas are obscene but the
government taxing the same gallon of gas at 15% isn't.

I voted Democrat because I believe the government will do
a better job of spending the money I earn than I would.

I voted Democrat because when I get behind on my
mortgage, the government will help me by lowering my
payments.

I voted Democrat because freedom of speech is fine as
long as nobody is offended by it.

I voted Democrat because when we pull out of Iraq, I
trust that the bad guys will stop what they're doing
because they now think we're good people.

I voted Democrat because I'm way too irresponsible to
own a gun, and I know that my local police are all I need to
protect me from murderers and thieves.

I voted Democrat because I believe that people who
can't tell us if it will rain on Friday can tell us that
the polar ice caps will melt away in ten years if I
don't start driving a Prius.

I voted Democrat because I'm not concerned about the
slaughter of millions of babies so long as we keep all death
row inmates alive.

I voted Democrat because I believe that business should
not be allowed to make profits for themselves. They need to
break even and give the rest away to the government for
redistribution as IT sees fit.

I voted Democrat because I believe liberal judges need to
rewrite The Constitution every few days to suit some fringe
kooks who would never get their agendas past the voters.

I voted Democrat because my head is so firmly planted up
my ass that it is unlikely that I'll ever have another
point of view.

"A Liberal is a person who will give away everything
they don't own."

2009-03-01T10:53:00.000-05:00

Russian Roulette with a knife?????

2009-02-14T10:50:00.000-05:00

Advanced Algebra for Dogs

Or just my way of saying Happy Valentines Day?

Just testing my newly learned Grooveshark embeds.

Happy Valentines and Help me Row!

2009-02-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

And 200 years later we have Freedom's Death Warrant !

Which leads me to this!!!!

I couldn't resist posting this article by a local Commentator/Pastor Warren Sprouse.

For Want Of A Nail

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I don't know if children are exposed to the old sayings anymore, but at least one should be in every child's memory bank. It's earliest existence is traced back to 1390 AD.
For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
A simple proverb, but profound -- perhaps for it's simplicity.
The questions of character, crime, and purpose can be traced to this simple thought.
Our social, financial and political problems are traceable to such an idea.
What is Reform, but the effort to put the toothpaste back in the tube?
When a parent believes their child will grow up morally straight and physically strong simply because they feed them, clothe them and protect them from overt dangers, we get all sorts of results.
Depending upon the genetic makeup of the child and the general culture of the family, such a child may do well, while others not so well.
The reality is: allowing for unknown factors, generally speaking, the way a child is raised determines how they will live.
Which brings me to another Proverb: As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.
We are currently watching as grown men and women, with advanced degrees in all sorts of concrete disciplines, put together a Spending Bill that runs completely counter to everything they know or have been taught about finances.
And when asked about specifics, they have none!
But WE are being criticized for not trusting them.
We watch as local and State officials struggle with a financial crunch they weren't prepared for and respond by making budget cuts, most of which will affect those dependent upon the State, as well as employees and retirees in one way or another. And trying to find new sources of revenue: taxing motorists for the miles they drive?
Well, here's a thought: We had recessions in the 1950's, 1960's, 1970's and 1980's. We also had a close call in the 1990's. But no one could have predicted a recession in the first decade of the new millennium?
The recession of the 1970's was worse than this one, although I don't think it was world-wide. Which begs the question: Do we have a global economy or not? Actually we're being told the U.S. recession is not as bad as most other nations.
The solution to the 1970's recession was to get rid of Jimmy Carter and the Democrats in Congress, lower the tax rate and tighten our belt.
In 3 years the economy was rolling and Democrat critics now refer to the 1980's as "The Decade of Greed," for all the money that was made -- by them!
Criminals, by nature or nurture, don't care about their victims. They are so selfish as to not even have feelings for the person they rob, rape or kill.
They act like two-year-olds: I want it! It's mine! She hit me first! But, it's not their fault, they have Anti-Social Personality Disorder.
The truth is, habitual cheats, liars and bullies are made, not born. Now, I believe all children are born with the propensity. No one teaches a child to lie. But to make a life-time pattern of doing so takes help from "The Village."
If you encourage lieing, you get more lieing. If you encourage sloth, you get more sloth, and so on. You see: you get what you reward!
For example: many a parent will refuse to check behind their children when the child says the job is done. They don't want to damage the child's self-image by doubting them.
But if you don't check, how will you know you have a liar on your hands? And if you don't know the child is lieing, how will you correct for it? Assuming you want to.
So, the child gets away with lieing at home and tries it at school. Here the teacher may catch him at it and punish him. Then the parent steps in to defend the child and the teacher learns to leave it alone or face discipline or litigation.
Some of these children gravitate to business and to politics, where lieing is more profitable.
Look at the parade of self-absorbed CEO's. Look at the Cabinet Appointees who are liars and tax-cheats. Look at our President who was recruited and mentored by men and women who are serious criminals, in their own right. Look at our Governor and U.S. Senator who were central figures in putting North Carolina in the financial mess we're in, now taking the high road in discussions about necessary budget cuts. Look at liberal Democrats in Washington who set up the Mortgage system to fail and now lecture about Bush's legacy of greed -- with a straight face!
These people are largely products of parents who grew up in the 1960's. The anti-establishment crowd. The generation that saw authority as something bad and Free Expression as something good.
Well, the chickens have come home to roost! They are now the majority population. The few actual 'adults' left in this country are forced to stand by and watch them tear down more of our culture and values.
If they had just been required to make their beds, perhaps they'd have turned out different.
O, for want of a nail -- Or a real parent!

Warren Sprouse

2009-01-31T18:28:00.000-05:00

Suzanna Hupp, You are my hero!

Dr. Suzanna Gratia's testimony • March 1992

"The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule" H.L. Mencken

Are you listening Al Gore??????

"The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals.Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws." Ayn Rand

"Now that the gun grabbers control Congress, they will redouble their efforts to disarm the law-abiding citizens of America --or make them the "criminals" Ayn Rand mentioned!"

"Per the latest Justice Department census, there are approximately 2.4 sworn officers per 1,000 population. That's about one officer per 400 for so of us. Let's assume that only 1/3 of those officers are on duty during any 8 hour shift. That hikes the number of "us" for each cop to 1200 or more. Now you know why there's never a cop around when you need one."

And my question is, how many of those 2.4 sworn officers are at a desk job that doesn't require them to be on the street protecting you and I?

2009-01-20T09:15:00.000-05:00

Wake up, Wake up Girls!!!!

Today is the day, Today is the day

Yes Emily, it's time! You look like you might be trying to squeeze an Obamite out?

Time for what Daddy?
Time for me to Drink my Obama Kool-Aid
Can I have some?
I got a hangover already!!!!!!

OK......it's official now

I'm updating as I go kinda like this

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Don't ask???????
Celebration is complete!
Emily slept through the inauguration?
Time to break out the cheap stuff!!!!!

The girls finally went outside and braved the cold!!!
Emily had to come back inside and shiver in front of her "HeatDish"

2009-01-19T09:00:00.000-05:00

Craigslist Ad

To the Guy Who Mugged Me Downtown (Downtown, Savannah)

I was the white guy with the black Burrberry jacket that you demanded I hand over shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend. You also asked for my girlfriend's purse and earrings. I hope you somehow come across this message. I'd like to apologize.

I didn't expect you to crap your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket. Truth is, I was wearing the jacket for a reason that evening, and it wasn't that cold outside. You see, my girlfriend had just bought me that Kimber 1911 . 45 ACP pistol for Christmas, and we had just picked up a shoulder holster for it that evening. Beautiful pistol, eh? It's a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head, isn't it?

I know it probably wasn't a great deal of fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with that brown sludge flopping about in your pants. I'm sure it was even worse since you also ended up leaving your shoes, cellphone, and wallet with me. I couldn't have you calling up any of your buddies to come help you try to mug us again. I took the liberty of calling your mother, or "Momma" as you had her listed in your cell, and explaining to her your situation. I also bought myself some gas on your card. I gave your shoes to one of the homeless guys over by Vinnie Van Go Go's, along with all of the cash in your wallet, then I threw the wallet itself in a dumpster.

I called a bunch of phone sex numbers from your cell. They'll be on your bill in case you'd like to know which ones. Alltel recently shut down the line, and I've only had the phone for a little over a day now, so I don't know what's going on with that. I hope they haven't permanently cut off your service. I was about to make some threatening phone calls to the DA's office with it. Oh well.

So, about your pants. I know that I was a little rough on you when you did this whole attempted mugging thing, so I'd like to make it up to you. I'm sure you've already washed your pants, so I'd like to help you out. I'd like to reimburse you for the detergent you used on the pants. What brand did you use, and was it liquid or powder? I'd also like to apologize for not killing you and instead making you walk back home humiliated. I'm hoping that you'll reconsider your choice of path in life. Next time you might not be so lucky. If you read this message, email me and we'll do lunch and laundry.

Peace! - Alex

2009-01-11T15:17:00.000-05:00

Manners and Behavior can take you where money can't take you!

Bill "Bojangles" Robinson

2008-12-30T20:13:00.000-05:00

Make your dog a cover dog

In just a few easy steps you can make your dog the cover dog of a magazine.

Just go to this website !

A big thanks to Jan at The Poodle ( and Dog Blog)

2008-12-27T09:45:00.000-05:00

THANK GAWD FOR SHEEPDOGS

ON SHEEP, WOLVES AND SHEEPDOGS By:

LTC(RET) Dave Grossman, RANGER, Ph.D.
author of "On Killing."

Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always, even death itself. The question remains: What is worth defending? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for? - William J. Bennett - in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997 One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident."

This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million. Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation.

We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation.

They are sheep. I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me, it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.

For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators. "Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep.

There is no safety in denial. "Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf." If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.

Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial. The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed.

The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours. Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell
them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.

The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.

Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently
about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand
that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.

Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into "warriorhood", you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference. There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.

There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: Slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself. Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs. Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.

There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men. - Edmund Burke- Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision. If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door. For example, many police officers carry their weapons in church. They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs. Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying a weapon. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to massacre you and your loved ones.

I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, "I will never be caught without my gun in church." I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a cop he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down fourteen people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy's body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?" Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for "heads to roll" if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids' school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires
and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them. Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, "Do
you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones were attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?"

It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up. Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: you didn't bring your gun, you didn't train. Your only defense was wishful thinking. Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by your fear, helplessness and horror at your moment of truth. Gavin de Becker puts it like this in "Fear Less", his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation: "...denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn't so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling." Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level. And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes.

If you are warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one can be "on" 24/7, for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself..."Baa." This business of being a sheep or a sheep dog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum,
away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from "sheephood" and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.

"If It Weren't For The United States Military"
"There Would Be NO United States of America"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I came across a great blog this morning that will keep me reading for quite some time! SNAKE HUNTERS

And this is a great post from reb back in July 2006 " History "

2008-12-24T09:12:00.000-05:00

Santa Claus Bailout?

2008-12-13T14:43:00.000-05:00

Sorry I haven't been visiting my blog buddies lately. I haven't got much to say, so I'll leave you with a good read that was forwarded to my inbox this past week.

The Old Man and the Dog
by Catherine Moore

"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.

"Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."

My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.

The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."

I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"

The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"

Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.

At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...

Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.