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...