Meleanie Hain

Meleanie's story here

This woman is a victim. Another victim of a law enforcement officer's poor judgement and delusion of grandeur. Meleanie, keep it up, and know that there are thousands upon thousands of law abiding, gun toting citizens behind you who know that the naysayers are complacent and uninformed. To all those naysayers: the guns are already there. They are lawfully carried in holsters inside waistbands, in shoulder holsters under shirts, in pockets, purses, boots, fannypacks, backpacks, and gloveboxes. In Michigan, one out of every 65 citizens is licensed to carry concealed. We are just tired of having to hide them from nervous, neurotic hoplophobes. Get educated, get a clue, and get over it. To all the rest of you, carry on.

Another blogspot blog with interesting links to the story here.

United States Soldier

I found the following in a blog called "General News Group" while randomly surfing the net. At first glance, the writing in the blog seems sound and intelligent, so I am going to include a link to it in my list to the right, and will continue to follow and read. Enjoy:

1/2 boy 1/2 man

If you read this, you WILL forward it on. You just won’t be able to
stop yourself.

The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired,
tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by
society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old
enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never
really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash
his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment either.

He’s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student,
pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and
has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or
swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens
to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm
howitzer.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is
working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble
spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip
a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can
recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and
use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a
professional.

He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to
march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without
spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.

He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps
his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry,
his food. He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of
battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were
his hands.

He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and
still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short
lifetime.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in
combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body
while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to
’square-away ‘ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove
their hat, or even stop talking.

In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their
right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying
the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the
American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200
years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with
his blood.

And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in
this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.

As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot. . .

A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their
helmets.

Prayer wheel for our military… please don’t break it Please send this
on after a short prayer.

Prayer Wheel

‘Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they
protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they
perform for us in our time of need. Amen.’

When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our
ground troops in Afghanistan , sailors on ships, and airmen in the air,
and for those in Iraq , Afghanistan and all foreign countries.

There is nothing attached… This can be very powerful…

Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman,
Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one.

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas morning. I'm just being lazy, watching a Monk marathon on USA. All Christmas episodes. I need to go and finish Tiffany's gift, and finish wrapping Savanna's gifts. I'll get to it shortly. I opened a gift this morning that I like better than each of the others I opened yesterday. It's a coffee cup. It says my name, and a couple short paragraphs describing my character and personality. I can't explain why, but it affected me deeply. Thank you.

Count Your Blessings

On this day in history, in 1791, the Bill of Rights became law. Be thankful that you have guaranteed rights today.

Simplicity Repairs

Today, I finally finished rebuilding the carb for the beast. What a nightmare that thing was. All other carburetors I have rebuilt have a seat that screws in, making for easy replacement of the needle and seat. Briggs decided to press the seat into the body of this carb. I have a manual that details instructions on the overhaul of this carb. It says that I should "use a self-threading screw to remove the seat". Holy crap, are you serious? The largest self threading screw I have is too small to serve the purpose. Even if it fit, all I would accomplish would be to bury the screw into the seat, then MAYBE be able to LIFT the screw while continuing to turn it. I tried an easy-out, to no avail. I tried a tap, to no avail. I then found a large screw whose threads were larger than the hole in the seat, and seemed to have a good grip. Then I place a slightly oversized socket over the seat, and buried the screw into the socket. The seat began to slide out of the hole slowly as I turned the screw. I was amazed that it did not turn at all, it simply climbed straight out. Eventually, after adding a little more shimming, the seat came out. I drove the new seat in with a piece of some of the hardest wood I have ever used. Once that was accomplished, the rest was fairly easy. I had the carb back together in under an hour, including repeated assembly and disassembly of the float and needle in order to set the float height properly. That's pretty good, considering the tediousness with which I have worked on this thing. ( It is not just cleaned, it is polished, inside and out ) I waited for my hawaiian pizza to arrive, ate, and took the newly repaired carb out to install on the tractor. I installed it, used an old squeeze bottle of 3-in-1 oil to squeeze some fuel into the bowl through the vent hole in the top of the carb, and finished all the connections. The whole process went much faster than I expected it to. I stood up to try to figure out what in the world I forgot to do, and eventually realized that all I had left was to start the tractor. So I did. It started immediately, and ran for about 20 seconds, then quit. I added some fuel to the bowl, and started it again. It ran for about 25 seconds, and started to sputter, so I pushed the choke in. It began running much better. I spent the next 20 minutes or so letting it run, and fine tuning it. It now runs without having to have the choke engaged. It's a wonder it ran at all before the rebuild, considering all the grime and garbage I found in the bottom of the bowl. The high speed jet was completely clogged. Oh well, it's clean now, runs well, and looks good, too. Tomorrow, while I have light outside, I'll drag the plow into the garage and get it installed. I'll finally be ready for snow. That whole shattered rod thing really screwed up the snowplowing plans for the season...

Customer Service

I just went to Auto Zone to get an easy-out, and a tach so that I can set the carb properly when I finish rebuilding it and install it on the tractor. All I could find in the store were the ones for permanent install. I assumed they had one for tuning behind the counter. I managed to find an easy-out, but could not find a brass punch. I need one to install the new seat. When I got in line to ask the help behind the counter, I stood there, first in line, for ten minutes or so. As time passed, more and more people walked in and stacked up behind me. The one employee actually doing something with the customers was having a problem with the computer system. The other employee was answering the phone calls. After the call answerer ended one call, he looked past me at a customer in the middle of an aisle, and asked him what he needed help finding. The customer walked up to the counter, and explained that he needed something to hold a bumper on his wife's car that had been smashed in an accident. He wanted some sort of sealer to "glue" it in place. The employee suggested a bungee cord. The phone rang, and he answered again. I watched in amazement as the poor customer service continued to deescalate. The customer was now standing awkwardly in front of the counter, and in front of several people who were actually in line, obviously knowing that he was never actually in line. I put my things away, and walked out the door. This is not the first time this particular Auto Zone has shown very poor customer service, but each time I enter, different people are working the counter. Someone is teaching very bad habits. Where has customer service and respect gone, and why???

Day Off

It's Sunday, a bona-fide day off. I slept in a little, and haven't done much of anything except surf the net since I crawled out of bed. The coming week is packed with a job I want nothing more to do with, but it will be income, and I can't turn it down. I put together a facebook profile today, against my better judgement. I have a myspace page as well, and haven't logged into it in quite a while. Oh well, I'm just a sucker for the invitations I kept receiving. Just another thing to ignore. For now, I suppose, I should get off my tuckus and get to the parts store for a tachometer and an easy-out. I have a crippled tractor in the garage, and would like to have it operational for when the next real snow falls here.

Hookey

I'm sitting at home now, when I should be helping to install a cork floor. This morning I woke up with a sore throat, stuffy nose, and stuffed up chest. Every time the alarm went off, I rolled over and hit the snooze. That means I got out of bed late. I finally got up and into the shower, and ran out the door, where I nearly slipped and fell on my ass. Last night's rain and snow made for slippery conditions. I salted the front stairs, and made my way to the garage. The lock on the garage door was frozen closed. When I finally managed to get the lock open, I realized that the door itself was frozen to the concrete. A couple swift angry kicks loosened it, and I slid the door open. I went in to start the car, then went to my tool trailer to get my tool box. The lock on the trailer was also frozen. I went back to the car, turned it off, closed the garage door, and took the garage lock in the house to dry. I then called Bob and told him the morning's happenings, and said I was going back to bed. I think he thought I was kidding. After a couple minutes of conversation, he realized I was really calling in sick and pissed off, we hung up, and I went to bed. I know he immediately began to call me some pretty non-flattering names, but I think it's better to give him the respect of letting him know I wouldn't be in, even though he won't return that respect anytime soon. I have not called in sick once in the last 8 years. I think I'm due.

New News

I received notification from the Operating Engineers that I am to take an aptitude test in January. One more step in the direction of "normal" employment. I also received results from my civil service test. Apparently, I have issues with human interaction, but I scored 45 out of 46 on the reading. Since I didn't score well on the first portion, they didn't bother to score the third portion. I am eligible to retest in 6 months. I am seriously bummed. I'll kick around the idea of retesting for the next few months. We'll see...

Uninvited Guests

When I lived Pinckney, I had quite a few cats. I think at one point, I had six. There was no way in hell I was going to clean a litterbox for that many friggin cats, so I installed a cat door in the back door. All cats were free to come and go as they pleased. Most nights they spent outside, but Patch liked sleeping on the couch. More often than not, he could be found snuggled somewhere comfy in the house. At around 2:00 one morning, I heard a nasty racket in my living room. It was violent, loud and short. I waited a moment, and heard nothing more. When I stepped out of the bedroom into the living room, I was greeted with a puddle of pee, surrounded by wet scraggly gray hair, and topped off with a messy pile of crap. All of this was in a neat little package right square in the middle of the room. I was confused. Apparently Patch had had it out with an animal of some sort right in my living room. He was nowhere to be found. I went back to bed, and woke up to find him big as ever and happy to let me scratch his head. A couple nights later, I heard some more noise, so I got up noisily, opened my bedroom door loudly, and stomped out into the living room. I then turned the corner into the kitchen, still loudly, and saw the biggest raccoon I have ever seen jumping out my back window. He was too big to fit through the cat door. I put a screen in the window, and figured I was good to go. That weekend I had Savanna. We shared the bedroom when she stayed. That Sunday, with her sleeping soundly on her little bed at 4:30 a.m., I heard some ruckus in the kitchen. I did not want her getting up and coming out to surprise a coon, since she was just a tiny thing then, so I blocked the door, and crawled out a window. I went back in the house through the front door, and went into the kitchen again, and saw another coon running out, this time through the cat door. When I looked into my kitchen, I was horrified. The garbage was tipped over and scattered all over the floor. I had a package of a dozen plain donuts half gone. They were ripped open and scattered on the counter. A bag of doritos, a half loaf of bread, an unopened loaf of bread, and some random other stuff, all torn open and scattered to hell and back. I could not see my floor for all the garbage on it. I grabbed my pellet pistol and went outside to see if I could find the animal that had trashed my house. I found it in one of the hickory trees next to the house. It came down the tree while I was standing there, so I shot it in the head. It turned around and went back up the tree. I was not impressed one little bit. I waited a bit, and it came back down the tree, so I shot it again. Again, it went back up. I know damn well I hit it right in the head, it was no more than 5 feet from me. I waited another ten minutes or so, and it tried again. I shot it again. It went up the tree... again. This went on for quite a while, until I exhausted my CO2 cartridges. I used my last shot and thought, great, what happens now? I spotted my pitchfork leaning against the house, so I picked it up and hid around the corner of the house waiting for that masked devil to come back down the tree. Down it came, and when it was about 4 feet from the ground, I leaped from the house and swung the pitchfork as hard and fast as I could, but I was too far from the tree. It saw me coming and ran back up, pissing like it was the end of its world. This made me laugh hysterically. I'm sure I was slap happy from being up for three hours playing a chess game with a small animal. I was out of options. I had no ammo for my .22, and the only other gun I had was my 12 guage deer gun. I think that would have been major overkill, don't you? The neighbor behind me was up, as it was 7:30 by this time, so I asked him if I could borrow some .22 rounds. He said yes, and handed me a little 50 round box. All he said was "don't shoot my squirrels". No problem, I told him. I had a small raccoon problem to take care of. As it began to get lighter, I realized my small problem was anything but. There were 6 coons in my tree. I went in and got my .22, a marlin model 60 semi automatic. Great little .22. I loaded it up, took aim on a coon, and pulled the trigger. I hit nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. I hadn't shot the gun in quite a while, and it had been moved multiple times. The scope either got whacked, or just gave up the ghost. I went down the street to get Jason, to see if he had a .22. He did. I asked him if he was any good with it, and he said he could do ok. I went back home, and tried a couple more times with the same result. He showed up with his, loaded it, and took aim. When he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. I laughed and said something about taking the safety off. It was. He tried again. Still nothing. This was unbelievable. Three guns and a pitchfork, and I can't kill a damn coon. At this point I had climbed onto the roof to try some more. After a couple more unsuccessful shots, I ripped the scope off and used the irons. What do you know, the first shot took a coon. I was elated! Jason finally got his working, and popped off a couple rounds, and managed to wing a raccoon. I was giggling pretty hard by now, and was having a hell of a time shooting straight. Lee, the neighbor who gave me the ammo, was sitting on his back porch watching. I took aim on another raccoon and pulled the trigger, and two friggin coons fell out of the tree. This put me over the edge, and I just started laughing. By now, a couple of the neighbor kids had heard all the shooting and had come down to see what was going on. JD saw a raccoon laying on the ground rolling around a little, so he grabbed my pitchfork and started beating on it! I absolutely lost it! I had tears in my eyes, and I looked over to see Lee laughing pretty hard, too. Here it is, 8:00 am, 80 yards south of a church on Sunday morning, people going into the church, a moving truck in the new sub across the road with people moving into their new house, and I am shooting coons out of my tree from my roof, Jason is shooting them from the ground, and JD is swinging a pitchfork, wearing a blood spattered wife beater shirt, out by the main road. Welcome to redneckville. In case you're wondering, Savanna slept through the whole ordeal.

Naughty, Naughty

I was at work a few days ago, sanding a job with Chris and Matt, for a pretty nice looking homeowner. Small, dark skinned, black hair, pretty smile... She gave me my first work related piece of ass. Yep. She came out of the kitchen, all smiley, and started talking about how one of her kids had just turned 18. I couldn't believe it, I'd have never guessed it. She asked if I wanted a slice of cake. I said sure. She opened the box in her hands, and in it was a cake in the shape of someone's denim clad backside....

Anti-TP

One devil's night in Pinckney, I was hanging out at a neighbor's house, helping out in the garage, and shooting the sh*t. A friend wandered over and warned me that a mutual friend was planning on TP'ing my house after I went to bed. I said thanks, told him to stand in his front yard to watch, and I went home to go to "bed". I shut out all the lights, opened a window blind in the front of the bedroom, and opened a window on the side of the house. Pretty soon JD came into sight carrying a couple rolls of toilet paper. I waited patiently for him to step onto my lawn. As soon as he did, I pulled the trigger on the .22 I had pointed at the ground outside my side window. He jumped about two feet, screamed "DON'T SHOOT ME SCOTT, DON'T SHOOT ME!!", and ran faster down the road than I ever imagined he could! I went back down to Jason's house to find Tony (my "informant") nearly in tears from laughter. It still makes me laugh!

Quote of the Day

"I found my nuts!!!" : Hammy, the squirrel- Over the Hedge

Wake Up, People!!

The government of the United States has overstepped it's bounds by offering a "bailout" for the mortgage industry. Of course other industries are going to come forward and ask for money. The auto industry hopped right up there and started with "can I have some too?". Now comes Citigroup. Who is next? Where is gov't going to draw the line? What do you think the first industry under that line is going to think? Government's job is not to get involved in private industry. Their job has to do with National issues. National debt, national policy, international policy, national defense, national trade, international trade, blah blah blah. Private business is to be left to the private sector. It should be enumerated somewhere. Oh, you know, I think it is. Let's see, where was that.... Yes! The Constitution of the United States of America! I wonder what that says? Article 1, section 8 follows:

Section 8. The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;

To borrow Money on the credit of the United States;

To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes;

To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on the subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States;

To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures;

To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current Coin of the United States;

To establish Post Offices and post Roads;

To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries;

To constitute Tribunals inferior to the supreme Court;

To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, and Offences against the Law of Nations;

To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water;

To raise and support Armies, but no Appropriation of Money to that Use shall be for a longer Term than two Years;

To provide and maintain a Navy;

To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces;

To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions;

To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the Militia, and for governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment of the Officers, and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress;

To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings;--And

To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.

Do the proposed bailouts fall under the "general welfare of the United States"? I would imagine that you could stretch it out to fit there. However, everything else enumerated in the section has to do with national issues. "All duties, imposts, and excises shall be uniform throughout the United States". Everyone is to be taxed equally, but certain groups are allowed large amounts of money given/loaned to bail them out from bad business practices and the results of a slow economy? You know what, I want a bailout. I'm going down the toilet. My heat and electricity should be off in the near future, my cable, my car payments have been caught up by my uncle so it won't be repossessed.... People aren't buying my product, either. Economy is slowing down, and I am forced to change my way of living, maybe find a different place to live, maybe shut down business. It sucks, but if there is no demand, there is no point being in the business. Let private companies figure it out for themselves. The smart ones, the good business people will survive and persevere. The strong companies will go on into the future, and the ones who refuse to adapt to a changing economy will fail. It will get worse before it gets better. A lot of people stand to lose employment, and that will be bad for the economy as well, but once in a while, the cycle has to start over. Let it. We will rebound as a stronger country for it. Stop with the socialist crap.

More Dryer Stuff

So I went downstairs armed with some pipe cleaners and a pair of side cutters, and proceeded to MacGuyverize the dryer. I bent and cut a pipe cleaner to fit the oblong wobble hole in the squirrel cage, reinstalled the snap ring, and spun the drum. No more bangitty bang. I put it all back together, started it up, and it's running quiet, as it should, and moving warm air. Hopefully it will hold up for a few loads of laundry. Hell, as much of a procrastinator as I am, it just might remain that way until it craps out for good....

Dryer Woes

I finally took my dryer apart today to see if I can fix it, instead of replace it. It's been making an awful racket for quite a while. It sounded like the same thing I replaced when I got the dryer, a tension pulley made of plastic. I looked inside while it was running, and determined that the pulley is still good. I could see nothing else wrong. I was finally able to identify the source of all the racket. It was coming from the squirrel cage under the drum. At that point, I quit using the dryer and started hanging my clothes in the basement to dry. They dry, but they take for friggin ever, and they are stiff as hell. Today I took the cover off the blower assembly and removed the squirrel cage. The center of it is all wobbled out. It won't even turn on the spindle, as one side is supposed to be flat. I found a replacement for under 20 bucks shipped to my door. It will ship tomorrow, and hopefully arrive before the holiday weekend. Until it arrives, though, I think I can re-install it with a shim in order to make it work temporarily. Putting on jeans that hang dry in a basement is like putting on boots that are thinly coated with concrete. It sucks ass. More specifically, it chafes ass...

Cars Have a Sense of Humor

Jim's mom used to have a mid 80's Honda something or other that had front end problems. Specifically, it had a bad lower ball joint on the driver's side. Jim pulled the car into the garage to repair it. We took the tire off, and all the pertinent parts, in order to get to the lower control arm. We removed the nut from the top of the ball joint and proceeded beat the hell out of the control arm with a two pound steel hammer in order to free it. Jim and I took turns for an hour or two trying to separate the joint. It proved to be much more stubborn than both of us combined. That is pretty substantial. We both decided to take a break and go have a sandwich. Jim went down the stairs toward the basement first, and I followed. He was almost to the bottom of the 6 or7 steps, and I had just stepped down, when I heard a suspicious metallic "clink" behind me. I turned to see that the joint had separated, and that end of the control arm laying on the floor. Apparently, sir Honda decided that we had suffered long enough.

Carry On

Mio, take two

I left for Mio last Thursday. It was a rough day. I had had a rotten conversation with Tiffany the night before, woke up to find that my phone had been shut off, and my day just went to hell from there. I drove all the way to West Bloomfield to get a check, drove from there to Fenton to meet a builder for another check. He was not there. I went to the store briefly, then returned to the job to meet him. This time he was there. I then went to two different banks, then drove out to find Tiffany. We had a slightly less bogus conversation. At this point, I am severely pissed, and want nothing more than to be far away from civilization. I went home, threw a tub of clothes and supplies into the car, and split. When I arrived in Mio a couple hours later, I realized that I had not called Steve to let him know I was driving separately, I had forgotten my black Carhartt coveralls, gloves, warm boots, my percolator, my compass AND gps, and a slew of other things. Steve decided to wait to drive up in the morning, since he did not know I was already gone. That meant I spent the first night up there alone. Anyone who knows me knows that that is absolutely not a problem. I started a fire outside, had a couple beers, and hit the sack. Friday around mid-day, Steve and Justice showed up, then later that night Stephanie arrived. Saturday morning we all went out into the woods for opening day. I saw squat. Stephanie saw squat. Steve saw several deer, but didn't have a shot. That night brought more of the same for Stephanie and I, and Steve saw another deer, I think. I didn't hunt Sunday morning, I just wasn't in the mood. Steve ended up shooting his 3 point around 10:30. Stephanie once again saw nothing. Sunday night and Monday morning, I saw a total of 7 deer, shot at two, and missed both. I managed to blow the shit out of a tree between me and the second deer, though. It was running. The deer, that is. That tree just happened to get in the way at the exact second I pulled the trigger. Nevermind that the shot was about as low as the first miss. I don't know if it's me or the gun. I suspect it's me. I brought the gun home to take to the range to find out, though. I didn't want to leave. It costs me less money to live up there than it does down here. It's much more peaceful up there, more quiet. The people are fewer and more friendly. It's not the city. One day, I'm going to find a piece of property and build a small cabin like that one. Heat it with a little wood burning stove. Hand pump outside for water, the whole nine yards. Life at it's simplest. Cheap, easy, and isolated. I suspect that I won't have the company I've been waiting for for the last couple years, anyway.

The New Gumby?

Alright, something is wrong. For the last couple weeks everywhere I go, people are suppressing smirks and laughs. Mostly girls. One guy. At a McDonald's drive through, I was certain the guy taking my money was going to make some sort of comment, but he didn't. I was waiting, with a response concerning the size of his 21 year old pot belly. He just smirked and gave me change. Then the girl giving me my food was smiling and smirking too. I walked into a cider mill for some cider and doughnuts, and heard laughter as I entered. The pretty young lady at the cash register was smiling hugely, and commented on my hat. I heard more laughter as I left. I went into a Lowe's a little later, and got the same sort of response. By this time, I'm pretty sure I have something huge and black in my teeth, maybe a green streak in my hair, left half my face unshaven, or I've suddenly become flat and green with a crooked-topped head and travel with a sidekick pony named Pokey. I thought it might be my hat, so I went a couple places without it, with the same results. Maybe I'm becoming a conehead...

Smash

I had a '74 Jeep CJ5 that needed a main bearing in the transmission. The Jeep was in the shop, and I had no other form of transportation. The shop could not locate a bearing. I found one in Waterford, which was quite a trip from Pinckney, where I lived, and a long way from the Ann Arbor shop where my Jeep was. A friend of mine picked me up and drove me to the parts store to get the bearing. We stopped at a gas station on M-59 on the way there. As we were leaving, we were in line behind a woman in a small car. Traffic was mildly heavy, so we had to wait some time to pull out onto M-59. There was a break in traffic large enough for the woman ahead of us to pull out, and she began to do so. Casey and I both looked left to watch traffic for the next break, and he began to slowly roll forward to the end of the driveway. I glanced back and realized the the woman in front decided not to take the opportunity to go. We weren't more than 18 inches from her rear bumper. All I could think of to say was "SMASH!!" fairly loudly. Casey slammed on his brakes before he completely turned his head forward. We couldn't have missed hitting this woman by more than a couple inches. He then looked at me and we both started laughing hysterically...

Quote of the Day

"When a naked man is chasing a woman through the alley with a butcher knife, I figure he isn't collecting for the Red Cross" Inspector Callahan, Dirty Harry

What's Wrong??

Ever wonder what's wrong with this world? I have. I know many people have. I hear comments all the time, phrases such as "gone to hell in a handbasket", and "what has this world come to?". I look around, and there is evidence everywhere of a very disturbing problem. Increases in the population of gays and lesbians, increases in occurrences of depression and anxiety, dramatic increases in debilitating diseases, increases in birth problems that even 20 years ago would have resulted in death. All this points to one thing. Mother Earth saying "there are too friggin many of you bastards, get off me!!". China knew this eons ago. They enacted some pretty harsh policies in order to get population under control. It didn't work. People are going to reproduce. People are going to overpopulate. We have the unfortunate advantage of having a problem solving intellect. We can figure out how to combat all these physical problems, and we have the ability to ignore the results of thwarting natures attempt to control population. In a popular movie, the human race was likened to a virus. That's not far off. We use resources until they are gone, and move on. Humankind has been farming animals and plants for time beyond measure, but at the point it became necessary to do so to maintain population we were over populated. Nevermind genetically altering food to be more productive. Until we have a magic solution that combines our current lifestyle and maintenance of our resources, we will continue to have major problems.

Definition of Merge

It's time to crab a little. Merge: to flow seamlessly into. That means, folks, that if you are attempting to enter a freeway where the speed limit is 70, and the drivers in the lane you are merging into are doing 70, you need to attain 70 miles per hour before you begin your merge. If you do not, you disrupt traffic, and that is not seamless!!!

I Can't Do It

I can not support Abama. Yeah, I spelled it that way purposely. Short for Abomination. The man is brilliant. He is a wonderful speaker, and has roped in many, many Americans with his vague and unclear promises of hope and change. Too many answers to burning questions are vague and non specific. I don't like that. He can not believe in the second amendment if he does not know what it means. He will not say for sure that he agrees with the Supreme Court ruling on their interpretation of it. He believes that certain things on firearms need to be regulated. The only thing that needs to be regulated is education. Firearms education is the absolute best way to prevent accidents and misuse. There is not nearly enough education. Most of what children and many adults know about guns is what they see/hear in tv, movies, and media. That's a subject for another day. Too many issues get a generic and energetic answer from him. He has suckered in someone very close to me, and I'm disappointed as hell. We got into a conversation about him, and I asked her some pointed questions. She responded with anger and defensiveness. All I wanted from her was answers. I was not trying to grill her or change her mind, I was looking for information. She could not give me anything. I asked her one final question before she left. That was "what exactly do you like about him? what answers to what questions make you want him running our country?". This was at the end of a rather unpleasant conversation. She had no answers. Neither does he. I haven't heard a direct and detailed answer from him concerning much of anything that I consider important. I have heard of a fine on people who don't have insurance coverage on their children. I can find no such thing on his site concerning this, but I have found many references to requiring people to have coverage for their children. No requirement can be enforced without some sort of penalty. I want to see what, exactly, it is. Can't do it. I have seen nothing specific, and all kinds of brilliantly flashy waffling. I want a person in office who will answer directly, take responsibility for their actions, and be an upstanding and respectable citizen. No "present" votes, no vague and incomplete answers, no dancing around the issue. Answer the damn question with a definitive answer, and you'll have my respect, even if I don't agree with you.

Added Pics

I added some pictures to an old post. Simplicity Goes Bang. Go see!!

Cold Shower

A couple years ago, I took Savanna up to Looney Loop for our annual family get together. It was an interesting trip. Usually, it's nice and crisp in the morning, and you have to sit by the fire for a bit to warm up, and the afternoons are rarely warm enough to wear less than a sweatshirt over long johns. This year was very warm. I spent a day wandering around in just jeans and tennis shoes. I put a t-shirt and my game vest on to go for a walk. 100 yards down the trail, I had sweat rolling down my back, and my face was flushed. It was miserable. Savanna was suffering, too. She was loud, cranky, and obnoxious. She wouldn't listen to a word I said. It was pretty clear that she was overheated. I grabbed her by the arm and told her to go get some clean clothes, and I set up a shower for her with water that I hadn't bothered to heat over the fire. It was fairly cold, around 60 degrees or so, I'd guess. She didn't like it one little bit. She even cried a little. I told her that she would feel much better afterward. She finished, dried off and got dressed and lo and behold, she was much more herself. Her mood improved 100%, she was smiley and happy. I made sure to remind her of the shower, and asked her if she felt better. She said yes, and didn't misbehave the rest of the day, or the week, for that matter. I'm fairly sure it was the cooling effect that made an immediate difference, and I'm also fairly sure that she didn't want another cold shower! After taking care of her, I went and had a cold shower of my own. It definitely made my day. I hope the next looney loop trip is a little cooler.


Carry on

Steve and Angie Arrive

Well, crapola. Steve and Angie were due here around 4:30, so I started making some food for dinner. I warmed up the rest of my gumbo, the rest of my potato soup, and made my cornbread. They arrived around 5:00, and said they'd eaten on the way. Now, I've got to figure out what to do with my food. Two quart jars of gumbo, and two quart jars of potato soup, no friggin way I can eat all that. I'm finishing off the gumbo, and I'm putting the soup in the fridge for lunch tomorrow, I guess. The cornbread doesn't worry me much, I can reheat that in the oven in the morning. It's good for dinner, and breakfast. Now they've gone off to take Justice trick-or-treating in town. A little more solitude then, I guess. I've got things I need to do anyway. I'll put the tractor away, do dishes, and sharpen the chain saw again. That poor thing needed it today. I sharpened it to the point that it actually bogged the motor down a little. It hasn't cut like that in a long time. I'll just touch it up, and put it up. Then I'll sit around the fire for a bit. I think there is enough firewood to last the weekend. I used up one stack in the past three days. I added another stack today, so theoretically, there is almost a weeks worth of wood cut and stacked. Guess we'll find out. I don't know how much writing I'll be able to do the rest of the weekend, so I'll probably just add to the blog when I get home. For now, I'm gonna finish the half-friggin-gallon of gumbo...

Thursday

Well, here I sit. It's 9:15, Thursday night, and it hasn't been an overly eventful day. I split the rest of the tree I hauled to camp yesterday. Didn't even bother to stack it. It'll give Steve something to do when he gets here, or I'll stack it tomorrow morning. We'll see. I finished the book I started yesterday. Did dishes, twice. Had coffee. First thing I did was raise the flags. Then I started the fire. I was really hoping for a good bed of coals from the night before. I dug through the ashes, and found one coal, about the size of a brazil nut. I put it between two half burned logs, and piled some really small twigs around it. Upon trying to coax it into fire by blowing on it, it made nothing but smoke. I figured it just didn't feel like being fire yet, so I piled more twigs and sticks around it, blew on it one more time, with the same result. Fine. I piled more twigs and sticks, then larger sticks, then small logs, and finally some split firewood. Nice little fire, ready to burn. I just went inside, and let it decide to burn by itself. I then cleaned up breakfast dishes, poured another cup of coffee, and stepped outside to see flames licking around the logs. It took about 15 minutes, and became fire. That fire is now a very large bed of hot coals, with a couple big pieces of wood laying on top to insulate it from the cold and oxygen. Tomorrow it should be a little easier to coax it to life. For dinner tonight, I opened a jar of the gumbo I canned, to discover that the fantastic flavor cooked right out of it. I think the canning process actually grossly overcooked it. Talk about disappointment. Oh well, it's food. Tomorrow I'll warm up the rest of it and make some cornbread to go with it. I think waffles will be breakfast, maybe cooked over the fire. Who knows. Sounds awful good, though. Hopefully there is still some syrup around here....

End of Day One

9:30 p.m.
Today has been fairly productive, and relaxing at the same time. After breakfast, I fired up the chain saw and spent an hour cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood. Then I backed the tractor out of the trailer and proceeded to make some adjustments to the carburetor. I managed to get it to run fairly reasonably, but only as long as the choke is on. The second I open the choke, it quits. I suspect I'll have some work to do to the carb when I get it back home. It ran well enough to pull a couple 4 or 5 inch trees back, and a 24 foot long section of a tree, in three separate pieces. The sectioned one was 12-14 inches in diameter at the thickest part. It's not even the whole limb. It broke off roughly 15 feet above the ground. That's incredible, considering it is red oak. That's seriously strong wood. It's also very heavy. No wonder I had to cut it into three pieces to drag it back to camp. Then I cut up all the little stuff and stacked it, and cut two of the three logs, and split and stacked that as well. In between times, I warmed up and ate a quart of Tiffany's potato soup, had a couple cold Coronas, and relaxed by the fire. I also went for a short walk to the back of the property. Tomorrow I'll cut and split the third log, and see if I can't retrieve some of the other wood that is partially cut in the woods. After finally having enough of the firewood, I lowered and folded both flags, and sat down with Dean Koontz's latest book, and have read half of it. Hopefully I'll sleep a little better tonight than last night. The first night away from my bed is always rough. The second is usually better, though the coyotes howl awful loud around here, and they seem to be louder when I'm alone. They woke me up a couple times last night. Anyway, I have a belly full of chicken pot pie, I've found the bottom of a Corona, and I'm tired from the physical work today. I'm going to set the coffee pot, brush my teeth, and hit the sack.


Carry on

Cold Night

Holy crap is it cold up here. The outside thermometer says 26 degrees. Inside this morning it was 40. Sleeping was a little chilly last night, as the top blanket decided to migrate to the floor. I plugged in the little electric heater in my room last night and turned it on the lowest setting, just so I wouldn't freeze in case something like that happened. When I crawled out of bed, I thought that it must not have gotten too cold, cuz it never kicked on. I realized shortly, though, that when I turned the light off with the switch, it also cut the power to the outlet that the heater was plugged in to. Ah well. I'll probably sleep the same way tonight anyway. For now, I'm gonna finish my bacon and eggs, then go find some firewood for the fire pit, then get started on the tractor. Hopefully it warms up a little... If not, I suppose I can put the little portable propane heater in the trailer and warm it up. We'll see.



Carry on

Arrival

It's Tuesday night, just after 8. I am just sitting down to dinner in the Mio cabin. It was 38 degrees inside when I walked in. I've put some food in the dorm fridge, taken my clothes into the bedroom, and brought the radio in and turned it on. It just played George Jones, "Give It Away". I've dished up a giant plate of Tiffany's homemade chicken pot pie, and sat down to type a little. It's already warmed up 8 degrees in here, though sitting here on the couch you wouldn't know it. The thermometer is mounted at about 6 feet above the floor, and I'm sitting, so my hands are within two feet of the ground. I don't think I can type with gloves, so I'll be keeping this somewhat short tonight. This isn't really camping, since there is electricity here, a fridge and stove, cabinets, a dinner table, and two bedrooms. There is a hand pump for water, and an outhouse out back. It's isolation, though, and that is what I need. I'll have it for the next three days. I expect Steve and Angie sometime Friday. When I arrive back on my own doorstep, I'll be posting whatever I've written during my time here, so I'll have to date these individually. Today is the 28th. For now, I'm going to demolish the 1/4 of a pot pie that I've dished up, and I'm sure I'll go back for seconds. Tiffany, you make one hella good chicken pot pie. Just another reason to love you.

Vacation

I'll be away for a few days. I'm taking a trip to Mio, alone, to spend some time kicking around some ideas, and trying to sort some stuff out. I'll also be trying to get that pile of Simplicity going again. I have a book this time, and I'm armed with a few more tools than last time. Woo hoo!! Wish me luck. Three nights alone on 40 secluded acres with no running water, and no real heat. Then two nights with Steve and Angie and their son, Justice. I think I need this...


Carry on

Lesson Teaching

Early one weekend, I told Savanna to go upstairs and get her clothes to get ready for her shower, so we could head off to where we needed to go. A little too much time had passed, so I opened the door and asked her what she was doing. She came to the head of the stairs and said, "well, I'm not watching T.V."...... Hm, alright, up the stairs I went, stifling a smile. When I rounded the corner, some colorful cartoon was gracing the screen of her television. I reached down and swatted her butt, and told her that she had just lost her t.v. I then made her gather her clothes and go take her shower. She trudged off down the stairs, obviously upset that she had gotten a very rare spanking, but not crying. When she finished her shower, she went upstairs to get dressed. No more than a half a minute later, I heard her crying. I went up to have a little chat with her. I explained to her that she had lost her television because she had turned it on to watch it instead of getting in the shower like she was supposed to. Then I explained that she had gotten her spanking for lying to me. We talked for a few minutes, until I was satisfied that she understood that she would have been punished for making a mistake either way, but lying to me earned her extra punishment. I then told her that I always love her, no matter what happens, and gave her a hug. I then told her she could earn her t.v. back by staying out of trouble for the rest of the weekend, that it would be back in her room for her next visit. Her feeble attempt at a cover story made me grin, and it hurt my heart to hear her cry, but I know that if I let that keep me from teaching her a moral, it could harm her for life. All in all, she seems to be learning and growing up well. I hope it continues.

Periods of Happiness

Falling asleep to Alan Almond behind Mamaw's couch, in front of her piano. As a child, I would go visit her and Papaw, and sleep on an impromptu mattress at night, listening to easy listening music and the tick-tock of her grandfather clock.

Each Christmas at Mamaw's house, I would recieve a several paper towel tubes full of matchbox cars. The real ones, little models of real cars. I looked forward to those days. She knew what I liked.

Driving Dad's snapper tractor to push snow off the driveway, though those times seem tainted, somehow....

I built a deck on the back of my Mom's house, and had a couple friends there helping. At one point I turned around to see why my circular saw wouldn't work and saw Chris standing there with the cord in his hands, kinked like you would kink a hose. He had unplugged it, of course. I laughed my ass off.

I lived at a real pile of sh*t trailer in a dumpy park in Fenton. Neighbors were noisy, space was at a premium, but it was on a lake, and I lived with the girl I loved more than anything. So many of the days in that place were happy ones.

Looking into the most wonderful brown eyes I have ever known, forehead to forehead, head over heals in love at 19,20,21. I'm fortunate enough to experience that again, albeit on a very irregular and rare occasion.

Riding a minibike powered by a little 4 stroke engine that Jim had modified to run on almost anything that you could light with a match, and some things you couldn't. That little bastard didn't have brakes, and I wore out a brand new pair of Converse shoes in about a week.

Anymore, only the time I spend in the woods, completely alone, is anything close to happy. Sometimes I believe my girlfriend does love me, and has noble intentions, and other times I believe she is playing me like a worn out deck of cards. I feel the latter tonight.

So Tired

Waiting, being at someone's beck and call, day in and day out, with little to no reward, gets damned old after a while.


That's all for now

Time to go

It's late. I've watched Shrek with my daughter, made over a gallon of gumbo, canned it for deer camp, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, watched the Red Wings win in a shootout, posted ten blogs, and listened to some very suspicious explosions frighteningly close to my house. I'm tired. I'll be sleeping with my .38 AND my .45 tonight.

Polish Joke

Here's one for ya. I used to work for a polish man. He had some odd quirks. Smart man, but he did some things that would make you go "what the..." For example:

I arrived for work one morning, and went about the normal morning routine. As I started to load the van with wood, I noticed a flat tire on the left rear of the van. One of my partners showed up at that point still drunk from the night before. The boss did not have a jack to raise the van. Boss's solution? Stack a couple short bundles of wood on the crushed concrete driveway, place a 4x6 over the stack and under the axle. Work partner is to stand on the end of the 4x6 and raise the van. I'm having serious doubts now about mental stability... Miraculously, it works. We remove the flat and attempt to put the full size spare on in it's place. Spare does not fit. It seems that the extremely mad and drunk work partner only has enough leverage to lift the axle high enough to remove a flat, not to install an inflated tire. Boss's solution to this new problem? Dig a hole in the crushed concrete to make room for the spare. Okey dokey. We dig a hole, install the tire, and let the red and slobbering mad man off the end of the long stick. Van is back down on the ground with 4 good tires. Finish loading van, get in, start engine and drive away, except that we can't, because we are stuck in a hole........ Yeah, for real. I couldn't make this up.

Definition of Strange

Watching a jar that is sitting on your countertop boil...

Mall shooting in Omaha, Nebraska

Published on myspace,Wednesday, December 05, 2007


Had there been an armed citizen at the mall in Omaha, Nebraska yesterday, less lives may have been taken. Nebraska is one of the few states in the nation which does not allow it's citizens carry concealed weapons. How many more of these instances is it going to take, how many more lives lost, before people wake up and realize that legally armed citizens can and will reduce/prevent crimes and death???

Patriotism

This blog was originally posted on myspace, May 22, 2008



A week or so ago, I finally managed to put up my flagpole, and started flying my flag. It feels good to have the symbol of this great country flying in my own front yard, to have the responsibility of taking proper care of it, and to display it proudly to all those who care to look. Savanna has asked me several times when we were going to have our own pole. I am very proud to have raised someone to be interested in pride in our nation. I have taught her to stand at attention with her hand over her heart at the beginning of each Red Wings game we watch together when they play the National Anthem. We even stood at attention at Dad's lake property one fishing day while we listened to the Star Spangled Banner broadcast before the game we were listening to on the radio. First I stood, then Savanna, then Dillon and Alexis, and finally, Phil. A nearby neighbor had a large flag flying over his front yard. We all faced it until the very last note. I was asked a few days ago, by two different people if I stand at attention during each broadcast before the games, while I am at home alone. I proudly answered "yes". To quote, I said "damn right". This is something that has been taught to me to a point. In school each morning, the class would stand and recite The Pledge Of Allegiance. Before swim meets we would say The Lord's Prayer, then stand at attention for the playing of The Star Spangled Banner after the teams entered the pool area.It is a sign of respect. A demonstration of pride in your nation. It makes me angry and sad to see people talking and clowning around while the anthem plays. Precious few people take the time to be quiet and pay their respect, and that quietness is disturbed and interrupted by others demontrations of uncaring disrespect. Did you know that it is actually United States Code that all persons in attendence except those in uniform are to stand quietly with hands over hearts or hats over left shoulders until the last note? Those in uniform are to face the Flag and salute from the first note until the last. Guess how many times I have stood alone in my living room this season for the anthem? Twice. Once during Gordie Howe's birthday celebration, and once during a game broadcast over CBC. That's a Canadian tv station. Versus does not broadcast it. Versus is also Canadian. Neither does Fox Sports Net. Why does a Canadian station broadcast it, but our own network neglect to? Something is very wrong with this country. Their is precious little respect left. Everyone is out for themselves, no matter the consquence to a fellow American. Those who choose to come into our country don't have any for us, either. Why should they? We don't show any for ourselves! Respect has to start somewhere. Why not with the National Anthem? Teach a person to shut up during the song, and pay their respect, and observe others doing the same thing. That would build pride in the country as well. It's as good a place as any to start. I've written a letter to Fox Sports, I encourage you to do the same. They have put a price on pride and patriotism, and chosen to use that minute of time to put a little more cash in their pockets. That is a disgrace. If you feel the same, please write your own letters, and teach your kids what pride and respect are supposed to be. I had the seed planted young, and it grew into a fierce pride for my country, and I have passed it on, planted the seed for my daughter. I hope you do the same.

It Is Legal...

Thank you, Steve, for the heads up on this article. I've known for some time about the legality of openly carrying a gun in Michigan, and now in the Flint Journal, there is public evidence of the proof... :

Openly carrying their guns, group touts unorthodox beliefs at Burton park
by Melissa Burden | The Flint Journal
Saturday June 14, 2008, 7:17 PM

BURTON, Michigan -- Pistols in their holsters and holsters on their hips, a small group of people who believe in the right to openly carry -- loaded handguns, that is -- met today at Kelly Lake Park for a picnic and spread the word about their unorthodox beliefs.

"We don't do this for attention or to show off," said retired postal worker Jerry Brewer, 55, of Owosso. "We just purely want to educate."

State of Michigan geologist Brian Jeffs, 50, of Bath Township near Lansing has openly carried his 9mm semiautomatic Smith & Wesson for the past eight months, while Nathan Nephew, 21, of Frankenmuth, who works in information technology, claims he openly carries his handgun to protect himself and his loved ones.

And what they are doing is legal, as long as the handguns they are carrying are visible and stay in their holsters, said Burton Police Chief John Benthall. Brandishing the weapon would be breaking the law, Benthall said.

"I have researched this every way I can and I cannot find any law against it," he said.

Brewer, Nephew and Jeffs are all members of the online community at www.opencarry.org, a pro-gun Web site that claims thousands of registered members across the U.S.

At about noon, a group of about six open-carry advocates gathered in a picnic area in the nearly empty park, with just an angler or two across the lake.

Jeffs said the open-carry group grew to about 16 or 17 later in the afternoon and that a few park-goers stopped to ask questions.

Benthall said Friday that Burton police weren't going to react to the group meeting in public, nor have a police presence at the park, unless they received a call. Benthall said he had contact with members of opencarry.org about an open carry and meeting in Burton.

"I haven't given them permission," Benthall said. "I personally don't think this is a good idea. I think this is going to frighten people who don't understand that is legal."

Jeffs said he and others who post on opencarry.org want to help the public become more aware and more accustomed to seeing people openly carrying handguns, knowing that it is legal and that "you shouldn't necessarily feel threatened and call the police."

Jeffs said he takes his 9mm with him on the weekends when he heads into Lansing to shop or stop by a coffee shop.

"I'm doing it for the fact that I want to exercise a right," he said.

Brewer, who hosts "Saturday Afternoon Shootout" with his son, Steve, every other Saturday at 3 p.m. on www.FlintTalkRadio.com., said he's had few questions when out in public with his gun on his hip, including some from law enforcement.

The Michigan group has met a few times in the past six months or so, openly packing their pistols, including at a Flint Township McDonald's.

Nephew, who came to the picnic with his live-in girlfriend, Christina Florence, 24, and her daughter, KayleeAnna Florence, 3, claimed carrying the weapon is a deterrent to being mugged or attacked.

Florence said she was apprehensive about guns for a time, having not grown up with them around, but feels safer with Nephew carrying his.

She also has a concealed permit, but doesn't openly carry.

But they are careful with the weapon and feel safe carrying it around KayleeAnna, Nephew and Florence said.

"It's either in my holster or it's locked up," Nephew said.
See more in Breaking News, Community: Burton


For those among us who are skeptics, here is the link to the original article : www.mlive.com/flintjournal/index.ssf/2008/06/openly_carrying_their_guns_gro.html


Now, as with many other things, such as driving, there are stipulations. You MUST be of age, in this case, 18 years old. You must be allowed by law to possess the pistol in the first place. (Unless you have assaulted someone, or robbed a person or establishment, or are legally depressed or unstable, you are most likely allowed) The pistol must be a legal pistol, registered with the State of Michigan-in your name. It MUST be in the open. Once you enter a vehicle with an openly carried pistol, it is considered concealed, therefore, if you do not possess a concealed pistol license, you must transport the pistol unloaded in magazine and chamber in a case in the trunk of your car. There are places only police can carry, and there are places police can't even carry. As long as a person complies with all the applicable laws concerning transport, registration, and firearms prohibited areas, that person CAN carry it in the open.

If you plan to carry in the open, please do your research and KNOW your laws. If you don't, you're asking for trouble...


Carry on

The Right to Keep and Bear Arms

Somewhere around 1786, the young government of the United States was already squabbling among themselves. Two groups, the Federalists and the Anti-Federalists, could not agree as to whether or not governmental power should be limited. The Federalists were of the opinion that government should have whatever power they need, while the Anti's believed that a gov't with too much power could, without warning, take over and eliminate the people's choices and rights to do much of anything. Out of this squabble came the Bill of Rights. Somehow, the two sides came to a compromise, and wrote down certain rights that would not be taken away from the people in order to give them freedom and safety from their own government. The first article on this bill is for the right of freedom of speech/freedom of religion/freedom of peaceful assembly. The second has to do with the right to keep and bear arms. That's the second of the original ten. Pretty high up in order of importance, don't you think? The language that was used when the bill was written was different than that we speak today. Grammar and sentence structure were paid much more attention than they are today, and were slightly different than today's language. To determine what, exactly, the framers meant by "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.", you have to look at the process the article went through to be approved, and see the language that was used in the original drafts. These people, the Anti-Federalists, believed that an armed society could not be taken over by a governmental army, because the government simply could not enlist enough soldiers to do so. There will ALWAYS be more people in society than in a military force. Even at this time in history, there was evidence that if you disarm the people, they are easily overwhelmed, and are at the mercy of their government. Countries around the world were in this position; no arms, no freedom. They viewed a militia as something that could be either existing, or created impromtu. Let me ask you, how can an armed militia be formed impromptu if the citizens creating the militia are not armed? The framers fully intended for society to be armed, in order to protect themselves from not only invasion from other shores, but from their own government, as well as from members of their own society who had intentions less than honorable toward fellow citizens. Don't think that just because today is "Modern Day" we can kick back and not worry about whether our government may turn on us. It was "Modern Day" when that document was written, and in the not to long past, they had fought for freedom from an oppressive government. It can happen at any time. If anything, we are in more danger today, simply because we have become complacent. Today, there are people fighting to take away our right to own and use firearms for our own defense for the reason of trying to reduce or eliminate crime in the streets. I'm glad most of these people are not gun owners, because while their intentions are just, their aim is awful. Only law abiding citizens are going to abide by the laws restricting firearms. Criminals simply do not care about what is legal and what is not. That's what makes them criminals. Take away John Doe's gun, and his ability to defend his home, Joe Criminal knows he can walk in to John's house and not get hurt. Injuries related to gunfire are vastly reduced, but theft and crime rises. Unless, of course, Joe Criminal enters with his own ILLEGAL gun and uses it on John. Crime on the streets is unfortunate, but it will never go away. It is also a small speck in the grand scheme that the framers had in mind when writing to save the people's rights. We are armed not only to protect ourselves from crime, but from any threat, including takeover by any government, even our own.

Career Change

It's about time to change my career path. My paychecks have been hit and miss for a long time now. I'm currently pursuing two different possibilities. I went to Lansing a few days ago to take my Entry Level Law Enforcement civil service test. The test results should arrive around 5-7 weeks from now. If I pass, I'll go back for the next step. Hopefully it will all culminate in my hiring in as a Michigan Conservation Officer. I ran across a link on the Michigan DNR website, did some reading and research on it, and it sounds like the career choice I've been missing all along. The things they teach are all things I would go and buy classes to learn. Firearms training, self defense, defensive and offensive driving, water rescues, atv and snowmobile handling and safety, wilderness survival, and more. They stress that the job MAY entail being outside in inclement weather, but I am happy outside, no matter the weather. Stick me in the middle of the woods somewhere to make sure that people are safe and following the rules, and I'll be a happy guy. I'm also trying to get into a school that teaches how to operate heavy equipment. Dozers, earthmovers, compactors, cranes, draglines, backhoes, graders, all kinds of fun stuff. Both jobs offer paid training, and good pay with benefits. I am so ready to move forward, and start my life over. I'm tired of not being able to get credit, not having the money I need for things like, oh, food, gas, electricity, blah blah blah. I have no insurance for my daughter, or myself. I'm renting a house. I have nothing, really. I have a ton of crap, but nothing really worth a damn. I can't retire on a hobart welder and an ancient simplicity tractor. I'm 34, and have jack shit. It didn't use to be that way. I made a good living installing wood floors. I can't any longer. The work just isn't there. People aren't spending like they used to. I wish these processes would move along a little faster, but they say good things come to those who wait, right? We'll see.


Carry on

Hot Peppers

I am waiting for the timer to tell me when I can turn the burner under my pressure canner off. I made a large batch of gumbo today. Part of the ingredients list is three jalapeno peppers. During a conversation with one of my little sisters, we started talking about hot peppers, and it reminded me of a story... Some time back, lets say, about 18 years ago, my best friends' family let me move into their basement for a short time, since I was basically homeless. I went to Meijer to do some grocery shopping, and saw some habanero peppers. I was on a big pizza kick, and I liked the hot pepper topping you could get to put on top of it. Those habaneros would make some serious pizza topping. I bought 4 or 5 of them, took them back to Jim's house, and proceeded to chop them up, seeds and all. Afterward, I put them on a tray of some sort, and placed them in the toaster oven in the kitchen. It did a fine job of drying the peppers, and later it was a fantastic topping for my pizza. That evening before I went to bed, I washed my hands, took my contacts out, brushed my teeth... you know the drill. The next morning I put my right contact in, and it was uncomfortable. I took it out, rubbed it, rinsed it, and tried again. No good. Tried one more time. Still no good. Ok, left contact. Nope, that one sucked too. I put them both in, and tried to wear them for a few minutes. I don't think I made it past 60 seconds or so. Both my eyes were burning like nothing I'd ever felt before. I ended up throwing them away, and spending something like 200 dollars for new contacts. Talk about some expensive pizza topping.



Carry on

Cast Iron Cooking

One evening I was making a pan of macaroni and cheese. Easy enough. Boil noodles, add milk, butter, and nasty cheese powder. Mix, and enjoy. As I was mixing, however, I noticed quite a substantial amount of pepper. I love pepper in my mac and cheese, but I hadn't put any at all in. The teflon from the pan was flaking off at a disturbing rate, and contaminating my dinner. In the garbage, pan and all. Get a new pan, and start over. At that point, I decided I needed to find a less toxic way to cook non-stick. So began my obsession with cast iron. This stuff is fantastic. THE original non-stick cookware. Properly seasoned, the surface will easily compete, and sometimes beat any other non-stick surface commercially prepared. My Mamaw always cooked in cast iron. My Mamaw Land (mamaw's mom-in-law) also cooked in cast iron. I remember going to Alabama and having southern fried chicken, southern green beans, biscuits, you name it. Breakfasts were sausage, grits, eggs, bacon, more biscuits. Mamaw cooked the same way. I miss those days. Anyway, I ended up with a lot of Mamaw Land's cast iron. Many of those pieces were well used and quite well seasoned. In addition to those pieces, I have collected a fair amount over the years, but never used it. Most of it has been in the garage for some time. Mamaw's stuff fared pretty well, but the others were in rough shape. One large griddle and a number 8 skillet were so rusted that I went after them with my Dewalt grinder equipped with a super heavy duty cup style wire brush. Once the cast iron was de-rusted, I took it all inside and washed it in hot water, dried it with paper towels, and put it in the oven for a short to thoroughly dry it. I then rubbed a moderate amount of peanut oil over all of the cookware, and put it in the oven at 500 degrees for 77 minutes. I had enough iron that I baked it in two batches. After the first treatment, I let it cool to the touch, washed it with hot water, and baked it again. Mamaw's stuff only got one treatment. The rusted stuff got two. It all came out very black, smooth, and ready for cooking. The griddle needs more seasoning, but that will come with use and time. Mamaw's iron is an absolute dream to cook on. Fried chicken leaves nothing which has to be scrubbed off, it mostly rinses out. Anything that happens to be left is easily removed with a Goody boar's hair hair brush I use specifically for cleaning cast iron. Everything is rinsed with extremely hot water while the pan is hot, brushed out if need be, dried, and given a nice coat of bacon grease. I no longer have to worry about ingesting that teflon. Seems as though those old folks knew what they were doing...

Matters of the Heart

I am madly in love with a woman who will not commit her life to me, as I've decided to do for her. I've waited 2 1/2 years to come home and see her smiling face after work, to spend my nights with her, take her to all the family functions, and so forth. 2 1/2 years. There is a lot of complication to this relationship, and a lot of history behind it as well. We met about 15 years ago, and dated for quite a long time. Now, we've found each other back in the others life, though things are slightly changed. All I want from her is her, and she doesn't seem to understand that. The longer I wait, the more hurt and angry and disenchanted I become. I can see no good end to this at the moment...

Simplicity Goes Bang

Went to deer camp a weekend or two ago, and took the old beater tractor up to mow the lawn and the path to the back 40. It's a mid-80's Simplicity 6216, with an 18 horse twin that someone used to replace the original 16 horse engine. This thing is a beast. I can push 8-10 inches of wet snow the length of my driveway with it, clearing a path a little less than 3 feet wide in one pass. It's an impressive machine, though it doesn't look it. We hauled it up in an old 6x12 trailer, also loaded up with a bunch of hunting/camping equipment of Steve's. We unloaded the tractor, and used it to move the trailer practically into the woods, so that nobody could back up, hook up, and haul it off. Then I took it down the path, with Steve, Justice, and Savanna in front of me, clearing large sticks. The object was to mow the ferns and miscellaneous weeds, and blow the leaves off the track. Everything went well, until after I made the turn at the end, and headed back. Halfway back, Steve heard me hit something with the mower. I heard something else, though. What I heard was ye old Briggs and Stratton saying "I've had just about enough of this crap!!!". I idled her down, and she quit, sounding like she was hitting on only one of two cylinders. Well, we couldn't get the poor beast restarted, so we pushed it the rest of the way back to the cabin. I took out one spark plug, and couldn't see the piston moving. Steve took out the other one and said he COULD see it moving. I looked at his side, and sure enough, I could see it. I went back to my side, now that I knew what I was looking for, and still couldn't see it moving. Some sheet metal and a head later, I stuck melted candles to the top of the non-moving piston, and yanked it right out of the cylinder. This is not a good thing, considering all I did to the engine was remove the head. The connecting rod had broken into at least three pieces. Dead horse. Dead horse that we had used to make the trailer inaccessible. Oh boy...

Der Skunkenator

This past weekend, I went to the cabin in Mio to prepare for firearm deer season, and work on the p.o.s. tractor that decided to crap out... more on that later. One of my sisters went with me, and took her crumb muncher. Steve also went, joined by Angie and their crumb muncher, Justice. Angie and Stephanie were in the cabin chatting, Briahnna and Justice were playing hide and seek outside, and Steve was performing some sort of work out behind the outhouse. Justice had just joined him. Steve had run a screw partway into a table attached to the building, and the commotion apparently made a skunk decide it needed to vacate. I was standing beside the fire ring and happened to look up to see the worlds largest skunk waddling toward the cabin. At that moment, Steve ran around from behind the outhouse, and commenced to try to end the skunk. At that point, I found myself halfway across the yard after the skunk with a stick, Briahnna right behind me. Don't ask me what I intended to do with the stick, cuz I really couldn't say. After the first shot, though, I dropped the stick and drew my .38 to "help". The last thing I want is to sit down for a "rest" and have my backside and family jewels skunked. We were both holding .38 snubbies, and let me tell you, a moving target at 30-40 feet is damned difficult to hit with one of those. Steve threw 5 at it, and I threw 5. I know where I was shooting, and located 3 holes in the ground. I don't think we actually hit the poor animal, but I seriously doubt it will return. It never did run very fast, tho...

Definition of Irony

... poking yourself in the eye with the stem of your safety glasses...
yeah, it sucked

The Nature of the Beast

I am a wood floor installer by trade. I live, breathe, and eat hardwood. Sometimes literally, though not exactly by choice. I enjoy doing my job, but I certainly don't enjoy the inconstant paychecks lately. Work has been hit and miss here for a year and a half, or two. Come to think of it, longer than that. I can go for several weeks working at least 5 days a week, then suddenly sit on my backside for two weeks not earning a paycheck. I used to be able to make a good living doing this, now I'm not even scraping by. Everyone who sees my work comments on the high quality of it, so the issue is not with that. People just aren't spending money. I used to be able to install 400 square feet in a day, and go do it again the next without much of a thought. Now, 400 feet in a day is an amazing feat. The workload has been so light in the recent past that I've gotten used to having more time to install a floor. However, starting this past Monday, I have 1256 square feet to install, and a deadline of Wednesday. Today is Wednesday, and it's done. I'm whooped. Tomorrow I have a repair to do, and start another 450 feet. I'll finish that one Friday. It's feast time, soon to come is famine.


Carry on

Autumn

I've been struck several times in the last week by the beauty of the world during this season. This year's round of fall colors seems to be especially vibrant. It's a wonderful time to be alive...

How Things Do Change...

This little tidbit came up in conversation a couple days ago with a friend of mine. I remarked on how little responsibility is put upon the shoulders of todays children. They are expected to learn much more than children of ages ago at the same age, but are not made to be responsible for nearly as much. At 7 and 8 years old, I was able to cook simple things. I knew how to make macaroni and cheese, and could fry and scramble eggs, make juice from frozen concentrate, and so forth. I was entrusted on occasion to watch two or three little sisters at a young age, too. My parents had a hard time making ends meet, and also needed to get out of the funny farm of a house once in a while. We lived in a rented old farmhouse on a large farm in Nebraska. The farmer we rented from had a little livestock, mostly pigs, and grew a buttload of corn. He grew a sizable patch of sweet corn for food, quite a little bit of popcorn, and what I thought was a gazilion acres of feed corn. We had a large vegetable garden. By large, I mean we got 300 pounds of potatoes from it one year, in addition to the tons of tomatoes, green beans, lettuce, eggplant, carrots, and so forth. Dad mail ordered 100 chicks, and we raised them as food, and as layers for eggs. I was expected to help with the monumental task of splitting and stacking firewood to feed the beast of a woodburning furnace in the basement. I helped harvest veggies, shuck corn, cut corn from the cob... Yes, 3rd and 4th grade, using a sharp knife to cut kernels off the cobs for canning. Mom signed me up for swimming lessons at school around age 7 or 8. One of the days I was supposed to go there, Dad had taken the car to work for overtime, and left Mom at home with us kids. We only had one car. I begged and begged for her to let me ride my bicycle 5 miles through farmland to the school building to meet my bus. My school, btw, had 400 students in it, Kindergarden through 12th grade. Small town... Anyway, she finally relented, probably just to shut me up. I had ridden in the car enough times to town to know my way. I rode that 5 miles to the school, got on the bus to go to swim lessons, back to the school by bus, and finally home again 5 miles on that bicycle. Alone. This would have been around 1981-82. Long before cell phones, and there were absolutely no payphones between the school and home. She has told me she was pulling her hair out all day long wondering if I was coming back home. I made it, without a scratch. I was also allowed to drive Dad's Snapper tractor to plow the driveway. 20 hp, and hydraulic everything at my little bitty fingertips. I don't know any kids today who have been conditioned enough to trust with any of those things. Half the reason, I think, is the fact that CPS would be called on parents, who could be thrown in jail for neglect, or endangerment, or some damn ridiculous thing like that. My daughter is now 8 years old, and she has some minor responsibilities. She can make pancakes, pour her own cereal, do laundry, and even shoot empty cans with her OWN .22 bolt action rifle. She cooks and shoots under supervision, but it won't be long, and I won't have to be such a leech with those things, even. Someday soon, I hope she'll have the strength to drive MY tractor. I know she wants to. Give your children some adult responsibilities. They will grow up with greater respect for themselves, people around them, and the world and it's workings.

Carry on

Half-staff

May as well start out with a bang. I've noticed some flags around here flying at half staff every day. I suspect the reason for this may be that our fearless leader (read: Granholm) requests quite often that flags be lowered in recognition of fallen heroes in the middle east. As do many people, I have family fighting over there. I am appalled at the idea of lowering my flag for the day to "honor" the sacrifice of a soldier. If any of my family gives his/her life in defense of my freedom, I will dip my flag in the morning, but it will fly at the top for the remainder of the day. Many, many soldiers have died in order to see that our banners fly in honor at the top of our flagpoles. I intend to see that all those lives are honored by flying mine at the top every day, with minimal exception. I grieve for those losses, and give thanks to all soldiers who do their job every day to defend this wonderful country. You have my unending respect.


Carry on