The most sanctimonious self-serving SOB in history.

This needs to be read by every single real American.

Far too angry to type any more.

Hanoi Jane. Ready, Aim, Fire.

I got an e-mail the other day. It was one I've seen circulating for a few years, and some of the stuff in it was largely false.

But it still burned my ass.

It was an e-mail reminding me of the Left's incessant and unending love affair with one of the more notorious, infamous traitorous pieces of slimy human sewage we've had in several centuries.

That would be Hanoi Jane Fonda.

Lot of the younger generation have absolutely no idea who she is. But since Clinton liked her and Obama likes her and the sagging-boobed bra-burners of the 60's like her, they think she must be cool.

She's not.

Anyone who goes to the enemy in the middle of a war, gives aid and comfort to the enemy, speaks out against her own country, speaks out against the military men and women of her country, and then who volunteers for numerous photo-op propaganda pictures with the communist North Vietnamese is a traitor.

I remember all too well the Hanoi Jane urinal targets. Many, many, many a beer at various NCO clubs was recycled into useful ammunition and then fired appropriately at this skank's likeness.

A while back, Hanoi Jane got all pissy because QVC cancelled an appearance by her on its show at the behest of thousands upon thousands of infuriated vets who promised to boycott the channel forever. QVC did the right thing. Fonda was pissed and bemoaned the "mentality of a boycott."

Isn't that ironic? The left is constantly calling for boycotts of ANYONE they disagree with. Well screw them and screw Fonda.

So, for some of us, a trip down memory lane. For some of the younger generation, an educational experience.

There are some things that you just never forget.

This is one of them.

Civil rights, citizenship and ID.

Yesterday, we finally got to vote in Texas so far as the primaries are concerned.

At issue was the usual whining of the liberals who got their left-leaning butts kicked in the past two statewide elections here, and with the increasing population here, saw new districts created and voter-district boundaries changed.

I'm old enough to remember when Texas was a solid Democrat state. Even then, a Texas Democrat was more conservative than a Maine Republican. Seems to still be the case.

Good riddance, Olympia Snowe(job).

Anyhow, we finally got to vote and at the polls yesterday, which we had a helluva time finding out WHERE we were supposed to vote (another story), my wife and I both showed our IDs along with our voter registration card.

The poll worker told us that wasn't necessary. I insisted it was. "Want to make sure you know we're not dead and we are who we say our voter ID registration card indicates we are," I explained, with no smile on my face.

Thinking about that, I pretty much fumed the entire time I was voting against candidates. I'm used to voting against candidates rather than voting for candidates, because quite frankly, let's face it, today's politicians just flat suck.

On one hand, that could also be another story, but then again, they suck because voter fraud has become so rampant across the United States that it is putting these corrupt piece of crap politicians in office.

I remember Hillary Clinton making the push for convicted felons to be given their voting rights back. Sorry, Shrillary, but when you screw over your own society and the rules state when you do that, you forever forfeit certain civil rights, then that's that. But Shrillary had no particular compassion for the "reformed" rapists and drug-dealers she wanted to hand voter registration forms to--she just wanted more poll numbers on her side.

Conversely, hypocrites like Clinton (redundant) oppose having to show positive ID to prove identity and thus eligibility to vote in elections that shape (or mishape) this nation.

Why?

I've heard and read all about how it's not fair to minorities. How?

I've also heard and read how it's not fair to the "poor." Bullshit.

Who voter ID laws are not fair to are the dead and the corrupt. Unfortunately, this compromises a seemingly ever-growing segment of the Democrats' voter base.

They scream and squawk about "civil rights" and that no ID should ever be needed to exercise a civil right.

Fine. Then eliminate this form of ID that is required to exercise another civil right, and I'll shut up about voter ID laws.

The unseen enemy.

All gave some. Some gave all.

But some gave more than all. They gave everything including their soul.

By their own hand.

This Memorial Day, as I have for so many in the past, I'll raise a toast to four cherished buddies I served with. Same unit, nine of us. We were all tight. There are only five of us left. Cancer got one. All that stuff they sprayed around in Vietnam. He was the oldest of us, our senior NCO and an E-9 whose 0-6 cherished him for almost twenty years, beginning at some Thai base a mouthful of klicks west of the Ho Chi Minh trail when both were scared FNGs. The Chief trained and taught us. He nurtured us with his experience. He picked us up when we fell, and kicked our asses when we loafed. Most of all, he taught us to never quit and to always do right by your buddies, no matter what.

His death was inevitable and gruesome to witness. He never married. The military was his wife, all of us snot-nosed slick-sleeves he taught were his offspring. This will sound odd to those who never served, but we loved the Chief and he loved us back. He fought Death to the bitter end.

Never quit. Always do right by your buddies.

Fuckin' A, Chief.

That left eight of us, all long since civilians but now, today, minus three.

The other three took their own lives. Vic was the first. Upon his return to civilian life, the ex-husband of a woman he married accused Vic of being the most vile of creatures. . . . It was not true. When we got word of Vic's death, we were stunned. When we got confirmation of where the rumor had started, we were outraged.

Fortunately for the ex-husband, karma was kinder to him than we would've been. A doped up punk who'd stole a car hit the ex-husband when he was drunk and walking home from a local beer joint. The punk went into the slammer and the ex-husband went into the ground.

The son of a bitch got off easy. We had every intention of killing that ex-husband slowly and painfully. We were still young and not very many years removed from our service.

What shocked us, though, was that Vic was fighting a war of his own that none of us had any idea of. The vile, false accusation opened a door in Vic's mind that we doubt even he knew existed. And from it spewed demons that fed on doubt and mistrust and the destruction of self-esteem. Vic had served honorably and was undoubtedly the most popular among us. Quick with a joke or a light of your smoke, as the song goes, he was masterful at tactics and strategies.

But then some son of a bitch, tossed aside like the worthless garbage his ex-wife found out he truly was, could not handle the rejection, carefully starts, feeds and nurtures a rumor to destroy Vic's reputation in their small Tennessee town. In doing so, he inadvertently unleashed an enemy inside Vic's mind that would ultimately destroy him because nobody but nobody fights that kind of an enemy alone and prevails.

A few years later, one of our guys who now lives near Stone Mountain in Georgia got a call from North Carolina. David was found dead. He'd taken a bunch of pills, then fashioned a noose and a flimsy stool underneath an old oak tree branch. As the pills took effect, he stumbled, the stool fell out from under him. The handcuffs he snapped on behind his back ensured that drugged up or not, he would not be able to reach up and attempt to free himself..

He left a note. He also left a wife and little girl.

David had acquired a bad drinking problem. Real bad. It ran in his family for generations. It cost him several jobs. They had been evicted for failing to pay the rent and his wife was fed up. She took their daughter and headed for her parents home in western North Carolina.

David's suicide note was full of grief, guilt and mountains of remorse. But the demons he was fighting, like Vic, didn't allow for him to reach out to us. We were his buddies. We would've and COULD'VE straightened him out. We had all fought alcoholism and we had all beat it, so much as anyone ever beats it. But we were all sober and had been for a fair amount of time.

But the bottle is a sonofabitch and the sonofabitch beat David.

He'd been arrested a couple of times for public intoxication--never for driving while intoxicated. His suicide note proudly noted that no matter how messed up he got, he never drove after going on one of his benders. He even said he didn't want to be "that guy" in our group who screwed up by getting drunk and running over someone.

Always do your buddies right, he noted. It was his last line in the letter--the letter that stays in a shoebox in his buddy's basement near Stone Mountain.

Six left.

We went a little more than ten years without losing anyone else. But we were to become one less, yet again.

I'd just buried my last grandparent not a week before when I came home to a blinking message light. To the veterans reading this--you know all about that sixth sense we sometimes have?

It was there as I watched the light blink.

The message could've been from anyone. My banker, my parents, my brother, former co-workers asking me how my first month of retirement was going. But it wasn't. It was from an older gentleman from a VFW post in Illinois, acting upon a specific written request from another buddy of ours who lost his fight with the demons.

Chris came from a farming family. He inherited a small family farm. He'd married, raised a son and daughter and sent them to college. Then came 11 September 2001, and the ensuing economic collapse.

The bankers came to get the farm. Chris had taken a lien against the farm to help put his kids through college. The kids had no idea their dad was in the financial trouble he was. Or the trouble they thought he was in.

You see, Chris only owed less than $40K against the loans he'd taken out against the farm. It's land and net value far exceeded that. But the bankers played their tricks and our buddy was convinced he was going to lose the farm. Rather than call us, or even ask his wife to, he became depressed and depression kills.

The hardest part of this was standing at his graveside, the frigid February winter air stinging our faces and making our eyes water. Belay that. Our eyes were already watering up. The kids, who all referred to us as their "uncles" since Chris was adopted as an infant and raised an only child, could not get over their daddy's suicide.

They each had the money to pay off the paltry $40,000 in debt owed to the fucking bank.

But it was the debt, his wife told all of us at the family dinner table that night after the mourners had left, that triggered the depression. She'd seen the depression in him before and on many occasions. It didn't take much to set it off--bad weather, crop failures, crops hailed out, death of a friend. . .

Why didn't he call us? Any of us? I had my pilot's license by then and could've been up there in six hours and land on the strip he plowed and cut out just for me when I told him I'd finally gotten my private pilot's license. Chris' buddy was running the family dairy farm the next state north up in Wisconsin. He took Chris' death the hardest of all of us.

We worried he'd be next, but he assured us he wouldn't.

We made a pact on Memorial Day 2002 that no more of us would die by our own hand.

I'll be the first to admit it's been tough at times, for all of us, but we're buddies. We re-affirmed our pact to always do right by your buddies.

According to a news story I read this morning, a veteran commits suicide every one hour and twenty minutes. That's eighteen veterans a day dying at their own hand.

I'm well aware of the social and religious morés against suicide. I'm well aware of people's scorn and often times contempt for those who take their own life.

But let me tell you something. A veteran never absolves his or her oath to their country. All enemies, foreign and domestic.

But there's nothing in that oath about the enemies, the spiritual enemies--the demons, if you will--that you can't fight by yourself.

My message to everyone this Memorial Day is as follows:

Veterans--If you need help, ASK FOR IT! There is no shame. You are or were a United States soldier, sailor or airman. You represent the finest we have ever produced in this country and this country, damn it, owes you.

So ask someone, anyone. Any VFW or American Legion post and there will be a host of soldiers and sailors and airmen who will help you out. Call your local police and tell them you need help and why. An awful lot of cops are vets also. And cops know all about demons, trust me--I was in that line of work a long time ago.

Civilians--If you see or know of a veteran that needs help, please help him or her. Without being patronizing, but if you haven't served, then you have no earthly idea what these people sacrificed when they put on a uniform.

We gave up EVERYTHING. . . our rights, because the military is NOT a democracy--our job was to DEFEND a democracy. We gave up individualism to become a unit and a team. We gave up the comfort of our hometown to get stationed God only knows where around the world. We gave up comfort and peace by volunteering to be stationed to areas where there is no comfort and we fought wars in order to provide peace.

These veterans who gave all, but at their own hand deserve to be remembered, respected and honored on Memorial Day. They took the step forward when their nation called for volunteers, and they pulled on a pair of combat boots and said, "I'm ready. Let's go."

And most of all, they did their buddies right while we all shared the same uniform.

For some vets, the war begins when they get home and out of uniform--no matter what their job was on active duty.

If you're still reading, please share this link:

Veterans Crisis Line & Hotline.

My fellow Americans, your Commander-In-Chief.

This just in. . .

With this being Memorial Day weekend, maybe we should take a pretty good look at the asshole who is our present Commander-In-Chief of all armed forces and military personnel.

Maybe all those drugs he inhaled, snorted and allegedly sold while in high school and college has affected his reality-challenged brain. Take this headline, Obama Twice Mistakenly Mentions ‘My Sons,' While Defending Contraception Mandate, and story for example.

I mean, hell, he's had his two DAUGHTERS for more than ten years. You'd think he'd have it down.

Maybe he was thinking if they were sons, they'd look like Trayvon Martin?

And yet there are still numbnuts in this country who want this bozo for another four years.

Semper Fi to a 12-year-old warrior.

(This week is Memorial Day week. As a veteran, I'm not satisfied with having just one day to observe an ever-growing list of friends, buddies and patriots who gave all in defense of Freedom.

As the percentage of those of us who stepped up to the plate and served our nation and fellow citizens now falls below a paltry 1.5%, I and other vets continue to salute, admire and praise the present and next generations of warriors who offer a blank check up to the people of the United States for an amount of up to and including their life, in defense of this nation.

Today's post was sent to me via Facebook and it exemplifies the honor, commitment and duty still present in the greatest fighting force the world has ever known, the United States Marine Corps.

Click on the link to The Blacksphere. I think you'll find these are our kind of people. American patriots from all walks of life.

--AOA


Every now and then, in the middle of the constant barrage of crap that’s just pissing us all off these days, we come across a story, a feat, an event that just makes us stop in our tracks. This was one for me.

Cody Green was a 12-year kid in Indiana who was diagnosed with leukemia at 22 months old. He loved the Marines, and his parents said he drew strength and courage from the Marine Corps. as ...he bravely fought the battle into remission three times. Although he was cancer-free at the time, the chemotherapy had lowered his immune system and he developed a fungus infection that attacked his brain. Two weeks ago, as he struggled to fend off that infection in the hospital, the Marines wanted to show how much they respected his will to live, his strength, honor and courage. They presented Cody with Marine navigator wings and named him an honorary member of the United States Marine Corps. For one Marine, that wasn’t enough ... so that night, before Cody Green passed away, he took it upon himself to stand guard at Cody’s hospital door all night long, 8 hours straight.

Nowhere on the face of this planet is there a country so blessed as we to have men and women such as this. I wish I could personally tell this Marine how proud he makes me to be an American. God ... I do so love this country.

~~Lori Boxer for The Blacksphere

What we leave behind.

From the e-mail stack.

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.

I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."

____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after them, so be careful. Don't do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones ---"sit," "stay," "come," "heel."

He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you...His name's not Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is "Tank." Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory

____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

"So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.

"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

# # #

If you can read this without getting a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye, you just ain't right.

A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to and including their life.'

That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country
who no longer understand it.

"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."
G. K. Chesterton

Drug-crazed, Nude Man Breaks Into Marine's Home--Met With Three Bullets.

From the "Not just good news, but damn good news" stacks. . .

We need more of this.

Don't mess with a man who's been trained to improvise, adapt, overcome.

I wonder if someone is going to challenge "stand your ground" on this. . .

A country that needs total eradication.

Afghanistan.

Eradicate it. Bomb it off the face of the map. One big stinking, glowing, oozing crater.

It's beyond Man's ability for redemption. A nation of stone-age savages with IQs less that of even our most ardent liberal elected officials and their constituents here in America. A wasteland of upright animals who pose as men only because evolution lingered long enough to give them facial hair and dicks, otherwise they never would've left the primordial ooze.

There are few places on Planet Earth that are more of a waste of oxygen, sunlight and resources than Afghanistan. Even Detroit has more redeeming value than Afghanistan.

We're fighting a war over there in which there is only one way to win: Total and complete eradication of the country itself. Nuke it, then nuke it again. Then nuke it some more to ensure that it will remain uninhabitable until the sun finally fizzles and goes out.

Any country who produces a predominant culture of creatures who routinely abuse and disfigure their young women the way these piece-of-feces Afghans do DO NOT deserve a place at the table of Mankind. Period.

The only thing more disgusting is that we have liberals in this country who stand up for them.

We should export them (the Afghan culture supporting liberals) to Afghanistan in between Nuke #1 and Nuke #2.

Good riddance.

Dear Gander Mountain: Kiss my money and my ass goodbye.

Gander Mountain has made untold tens, if not hundreds of millions of dollars from gun-owners, hunters and sportsmen.

To thank us, they crapped on us in Wisconsin.

Worse yet, they crapped all over us in order to appease some stinking bed-wetting anti-gun asshats.

I'm really too pissed off to write a whole lot about this, so I'm going to just post some links for this and be done with it.

But here is the letter from the NRA-ILA:

CHANGE IN VENUE FOR NRA-ILA WORKSHOPS!
Host Venue Caves to Anti-gun Pressure and Cancels

Dear Wisconsin NRA Member:

Anti-gun activists bombarded Gander Mountain with bullying phone calls and emails regarding this week’s planned NRA-ILA Grassroots Workshops, urging them to cancel.

Despite NRA-ILA’s long history of holding Grassroots-Election Workshops at Gander Mountains all over the country, and in Wisconsin, Gander Mountain has caved and canceled NRA-ILA’s Workshops at their Wausau location on Tuesday May 15, and their Eau Claire location on Wednesday May 16.

Despite these efforts to silence NRA-ILA and gun owners in Wisconsin, we have rescheduled these events. It is now MORE IMPORTANT THAN EVER to take a stand in support of freedom and Gov. Walker by attending one of these Workshops. Show our opponents we will not be silenced!

We encourage you to join us at these new locations and prove to these anti-gun activists that gun owners in Wisconsin will not be silenced. Now more than ever it is important that you attend one of our FREE workshops and invite every NRA member that you know to attend!

How Gander Mountain could put the whims and interests of radicals who DO NOT SHOP AT THEIR STORES over that of their own longtime loyal and supportive customers is unfathomable.

If you care to contact Gander Mountain and let them know what you think, click on this link.

http://castboolits.gunloads.com/showthread.php?t=153934

http://www.thefirearmsforum.com/showthread.php?p=924531

http://www.armedbadger.com/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=3675&p=33477

Autopsy reveals Trayvon Martin had drugs in his blood and urine. What an incredible surprise.

ABC just released the story.

Shock me.

When this whole mess first broke, Zimmerman was portrayed as a 300-pound hulking mass of black-hating right-of-the-Ku Klux Klowns wannabe Nazi.

Trayvon was portrayed as having sprung straight from Mother Theresa's own holy-lined uterine womb.

NBC was one of the first perpetrators in turning this into publicity chum for race-baiting asshats like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton. Selective editing of the 9-1-1 call between Zimmerman and the Sanford police dispatcher proves that beyond reproach.

I hope Zimmerman sues NBC out of existence. I wish advertisers had the balls to walk away from NBC for the duration of this entire trial fiasco.

Yeah, I know. I also wish the tooth fairy was real.

Of course, back to the media, it was ABC who rushed to broadcast some crappy footage in which they claimed they didn't see any blood or dangling appendages from George Zimmerman as the police were taking him inside the station. Now ABC breaks the story about Martin being doped up. Go figure.

I read on John Lott's blog where the medical report listed off Zimmerman's injuries and they were one-hundred percent consistent with his story of self-defense.

Now the autopsy on Saint Trayvon indicates the gunshot wound to ALSO be consistent with Zimmerman's story.

In other words, everything that is coming out that can be PROVEN as factual is supporting Zimmerman. The assertions offered by Saint Martin's race-baiting ambulance-chasing "show me the TV cameras and cash, baby!" crowd is systematically being proven to be nothing more than the typical bullshit Sharpton is famous, er INfamous for.

What a surprise.

How many years has it been since Tawana Brawley?

Open Carry and idiotic sheriffs.

I'm a proponent of OC--that would be Open Carry. As in carrying my firearm, in particular, my handgun, openly so that I don't have to keep it concealed at all times.

There are arguments for and against OC, but my argument for it is simple:

Freedom.

I live in Texas. It gets hot in Texas. Not just hot, but damned hot. I'd love to be able to slip out of my sports coat at a restaurant when being seated without having patrons begin shrieking at the sight of a holstered handgun on my side.

When getting out of my pickup truck to fill up with gas, I'd like to not have to mess with a jacket or unbuttoned shirt to keep my crazed handgun concealed and calm.

Etc etc.

I know folks--lots of them--who say they'd never carry openly. Hallelujah and pass the cornbread, it's a free country and that's your choice. But try not to make YOUR choice more important than MY choice.

Oklahoma is on the verge of having an OC law and I salute my Okie brethren to the north of the Red River. They seem to be a helluva lot smarter and free than we are in Texas (except for taxes and crappy roads). *I've just edited this to add that the governor, God Bless her, has signed the bill.

But in reading the article I linked to, I see where some numbnuts sheriffs have "issues" based upon their opinions about Open Carry. According to the article:

We called every single sheriff in Oklahoma to see how they feel about open carry. Ten out of 77 sheriffs support open carry whole-heartedly. Thirteen sheriffs say they support the open carry concept, but have serious issues with the ambiguity of the actual law. Twelve say they can't make up their mind one way or the other. But most sheriffs we talked to say they are against open carry altogether. The rest wouldn't comment or didn't get back to us.

Many of the sheriffs opposed to the open carry law offered these arguments:

- They won't be able to tell the bad guys from the good guys.

- It will be dangerous for the person openly carrying the gun.

- There will be more officer-involved shootings.

- There will be more guns stolen because citizens don't have weapon retention training.

With the exception of the twenty-three real lawmen who are presently sheriffs in Oklahoma, most sheriffs contacted for the article are typical--let me repeat, TYPICAL--law enforcement dumbass administrative types.

"Twelve say they can't make up their mind." *snort* Typical again--friggin politicians sticking their weenie up to see which way the dust is blowing.

But let's look at the other "reasons" the idiots give for opposing it:

• They won't be able to tell the bad guys from the good guys.

Turn in your badges, clean out your offices and get the hell out of law enforcement. All that time spent running your jails and you claim you won't be able to tell a good guy from a bad guy? Dumbasses. Oh yeah, during my time in LE I saw a buttload of criminals openly-carrying in Bianchi or Safariland holsters. . . Yep, saw a lot of criminals carrying nice S&W L-frames in shoulder holsters, or Sigs and Glocks in tactical holsters.

Besides, sheriffs, we don't give a damn if you can tell good guys from bad guys. It's WE THE CITIZENS who need to be able to tell the good guys from the bad guys, which brings us to the next point:

• It will be dangerous for the person openly carrying the gun.

How?

Do these sheriffs mean to tell me that less that 1/64" of fabric that would be between my holstered gun and the glory of the outside world is all the makes me safe when I'm carrying?

Well, hell. All I need to do then is continue wearing long-sleeve shirts and sports jackets and just ACT like I'm packing. . .

Or could they be talking about weapon retention? Let's point the finger back at LE on that issue and ask how many cops lose THEIR weapons? I lost count when I was in that line of work. Gun came out while running. Gun came out while entering patrol car. Gun fell out of ankle holster in restroom stall, slid into next stall where patron finished his business and grabbed the gun and hauled ass. Worked with an FBI agent one time that had no idea where EITHER of his issue guns were--and hadn't known where they were for over ten years. He BORROWED other cops' guns for qualifications and simply filled in his SNs. You can get away with that kind of crap in the small remote offices.

• There will be more officer-involved shootings.

Wasn't the same tired old argument used for plain-old concealed carry and didn't we see, unequivocally, that it was patently and blatantly false?

Then there is always the old standby line about how "carrying guns in the open makes other people nervous or it scares them."

Carrying a gun is a Second Amendment right no different than having a bumper sticker on your car is a First Amendment right--and when I see an Obama For 2012 bumper sticker, *I* get nervous and it scares the hell out of me that anyone could be so stupid.

Message to Law Enforcement: When you insist on not trusting us with a gun, why should we, the citizens and your employer, trust you with a badge?

Think about that.

Renouncing my citizenship.

I read an interesting story on Yahoo earlier today. The co-founder of Facebook, Eduardo Saverin, renounced his citizenship, packed his bags--and his money--and headed to Singapore.

At first, I was miffed and called him a few names.

But the more I thought about it, the names started changing from things like "ungrateful little pissant" to "can't blame you, bud."

His spokesman said it wasn't for financial reasons, which translated, means, "it sure as hell was for financial reasons, namely the tax policies of the United States were sucking him dryer than Johnny Depp playing a bad vampire."

The Treasury Department, in response, released some bullshit statement about how our tax policies aren't complicated and how fair they are.

Like I said, it was a bullshit statement. But what else would you expect from an administration that appoints a known tax-cheat as Secretary of the Treasury and a known race-baiter as Attorney General?

This got me to thinking. . .

The military exposes you to a lot of different parts of the country and the world. I've often thought that if I ever got kicked out of the U.S. or got so disgusted that I decided to pack up and leave (the way Alex Baldwin and Susan Sarandon are always threatening to do, but never follow through), where would I go?

I've always been a fan of the Orient. But Japan is more expensive than New York City and Washington DC combined. I like Korea, but not sure what their policy on private citizens owning firearms is. Probably not good. And, Asian food has way too many unidentifiable vegetables in it.

Switzerland and Finland are both really cool places. In winter, they are really COLD places. But both have good economies and both are gun-friendly. Both have a lot of common sense. When is the last time you heard of the Fins starting a war?

So mark down Finland and Switzerland as definite maybes.

Call me crazy, but I really like the Honduras. Not so crazy about El Salvador and Nicaragua, however. But I really like the Honduras and even Costa Rico, even though it's been discovered by Americans. Spanish is easy to learn and my 401(k) will go a helluva long ways down there--even with the bribes I'd have to pay.

But I really don't want to leave Texas, or even the USA. That's the bottom line.

Didn't we fight a war some two-hundred years ago over these draconian taxes and a stifling, suffocating government that dictated our every move? Didn't we dump a boatload of tea in the harbor up in Boston and tell the Brits to shove it up their ass?

Didn't we use to fly a Gadsen flag that read "Don't tread on me" that translated into today's vernacular would read, "Don't F**k with me."

What happened to us? What the fornication happened that wildly successful young entrepreneurs like Eduardo Saverin would choose to pack up his bags and money and haul ass halfway around the world?

I remember a time when we would've built a monument to him. Now the damned government salivates over the thought of how much money they can bleed out of Saverin and "redistribute."

Bullshit. That is B. U. L. L. S. H. I. T. Bullshit.

What if we'd had today's government back when Henry Ford was setting up his first assembly line? Or Alexander Graham Bell inventing the telephone? Or the Wright Brothers taking flight and building the first airplanes?

They probably would've left the country too.

Our government has even passed some such act, Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act (FATCA), which requires foreign financial institutions to start reporting to the IRS on U.S. citizens’ accounts.

Ha. I'm the president of a bank in the Grand Caymans and some numbnuts from the American IRS calls me about my customers, my response is, "Kiss my ass, you yankee government son of a bitch." I then disconnect the phone, head down to the beach and have a rum and coke, only without the rum because it makes me sick.

Who the HELL does our government think it is bullying other governments to snitch off their customers? Is this the same government that wrings its hands and moans and bitches about schoolyard and online bullies?

TSA, Department of Homeland Security, no-knock warrants by stormtrooper police, tax liens, Ruby Ridge, Waco, unconstitutional checkpoints, NSA snooping on your calls, record deficits (thanks George W and Obama both), blah blah blah.

People, we fought a war--a BIG one--a couple of centuries and change ago to escape the exact same tyranny we're now solidly under.

I fear the time for another one is growing nearer with each passing day in which we're tread upon a little harder, taxed a little deeper, and ruled with an increasingly stronger iron fist.

Don't believe me? Well, I suspect this very message will garner me a call or the attention of at least two federal agencies.

I guess I better check the weather in the Honduras, along with real estate prices.

I thought college was supposed to make you smarter.

OK, my book (Above Reproach) has been out for a bit over two weeks now, and already I'm getting some real sweet "love mail" from the anti-gun groups.

In particular, some of the college campi crowd are taking me to task for having a couple of my main characters armed on a college campus. The fact that it was a private school somehow escaped their college-education-in-progress minds.

Just last week, I journeyed to the eastern edges of the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex to celebrate the 21st birthday of a young man with whom his family and ours have grown close over the past four years. This is a family with old-world values and morals and who quietly walk the talk, rather than the vice versa we see out of so many people today.

The young man had all of his necessary instruction, shooting qualifications, paperwork, fingerprints, et al finished and was waiting on that magical day that some how transforms him from a snot-nosed rampaging can't-be-trusted punk into a responsible citizen who can now legally drink responsibly and purchase a handgun and carry it concealed.

My oh my but what a difference ONE DAY can make in our lives, eh?

Many years ago when I left the military and was at Texas Tech studying advertising and business, the drinking age had recently jumped up from eighteen to nineteen, with the promise of jumping up to twenty-one in a year or so.

The college campi students were understandably in an uproar, but they had an argument that rubbed me wrong.

"I'm old enough to register and vote and I'm old enough to sign up for military service and die for my country, but I'm not old enough to drink!"

Every time I heard that, I would ask the young person (normally a guy) to show me his voter registration and military ID.

Silence.

So, thinking maybe he was confused, I showed him mine. Then explained that he'd have no trouble drinking on any post or base he might be assigned to. . . AND that if he didn't like the law, he'd have to first REGISTER TO VOTE before his voice really would be heard.

I digress.

The anti-gun hate mail as it pertains to carrying on college campuses amuses me. The common thread is that students aren't mature enough, smart enough to safely carry a firearm to and from class.

Hmmm. I remember having a S&W .357 Magnum in my backpack just about everywhere I went. I had some hellacious schedules, often not getting out of class until well after dark. Anyone familiar with Texas Tech University (in Lubbock, Texas) knows the campus is a monster in terms of size and that it's a LONG walk to the parking lots and that the busses quit running (at least back then) even before the banks closed.

Like many universities, Tech had a "ghetto" surrounding it which was cheap housing for students--but it also attracted the usual human sewage who saw college campuses as easy hunting grounds.

Not for this student.

The e-mailers insist that students can't handle the responsibility of carrying a concealed weapon on campus. Yet, these same e-mailers (college students themselves, they say) have no problem raising hell about the drinking age.

Which makes you dumber--being sober and carrying a concealed weapon, or getting loaded then getting in your car and driving home?

The yo-yo's like to claim that student CHL holders would take their guns into bars, get drunk, crack off a few shots. . .

B.S.

The overwhelming majority of CHL holders I've met over the years have been incredibly responsible when it comes to adult beverages while they have a firearm on them or about them. This includes the younger generation. In fact, the younger generation seems to often times be MORE mature about that than those of my generation and age.

I was always under the impression that people went to college to get a little smarter, and most succeed. I did.

So why would being able to have a CHL and ensure my personal safety while on campus somehow make me dumber?

Seems like knowing the risks (crime, rape, assault, robbery, being mugged, some crazy shooter on campus, etc) and NOT taking responsibility for protecting yourself is the dumb thing.

These anti-gun folks just don't get it.

But then, they never have.

We gun-owners and CHL holders need to get behind and support our college students who do not wish to be part of the flock of sheep.

CampusCarry.com

ConcealedCampus.org

Could another Texan be our next president?

This is almost too good to be true.

Here are some links to the stories, but it seems Keith Judd, a federal inmate incarcerated in a prison in Beaumont, Texas is serving a rather long sentence (much like the American citizens who are suffering under Obama) for extortion.

Extortion?

Hell, this guy fits right in with Obama and the Chicago thugs!

Anyhow. . . it seems that Judd is also a serial presidential candidate and he took, get this, FORTY-ONE PERCENT of the vote in the West Virginia Democratic primary.

Oh, this also makes him eligible to be a delegate for the DNC convention coming up this fall. Wonder if he can get an early release from Hillary (who supported felons being able to vote, remember) to attend the convention?

Stories about this--

Keith Judd, Texas inmate, makes strong showing against President Obama in West Virginia primary

Against Obama, even a jailbird gets some votes

Inmate leads Obama in 8 W. Va. counties in primary

Sorry, but I STILL haven't been able to stop laughing my ass off at this.

Only in Obama's America could this happen.

Proof the U.S. Air Force rocks!

(From the e-mail stack)

For those that remember the Golden Age of Rock 'n Roll.

Remember those great instrumental songs like Pipeline, Drums, Drums, Drums?

Do you remember Dwayne Eddy and Sandy Nelson?

Do you remember the Ventures and their great instrumental "Walk, Don't Run"?

Did you know that the original drummer with the Ventures when they started out was a 17 yr old high school kid who is now a general in the US Air Force?

Watch this clip where the Ventures get him up on stage to sit in on that famous song.

Speakers WAAAAY up--You're gonna love it!

Here is proof that the Air Force Rocks! Thought everyone would enjoy this history.
Some of you don't know the Ventures. Those that do, enjoy the clip, a little long but should bring a smile to your face.

Do NOT be a victim.

I have read this before on several gun-forums, but it is a good read and even better advice for all of us.

Don't be a victim.

This comes from a cop who is still on the job. I'm sure his/her superiors would have a bowel movement in the shape of a brick if they knew who this cop was. . .

Read. Enjoy. Learn. Live.

Good advice from a cop about robbers

"I am going to attempt to provide some insight into street encounters. Other may have different viewpoints. I am not here to argue. I will say some of the comments I have seen posted in the threads about this sort of matter make me realize that while some ARFCOMMERS are clearly street veterans others are not. This is really for those who are not.

Background

First, my info. I worked in the street of one of America's most violent, dangerous cities for 15 years. I usually worked in the worst part of that city. I spent 15 years in patrol. I liked patrol. It was wild. Most of the time I worked in areas covered in ghetto. By that I mean large housing projects combined with run down slum housing. I have worked all shifts. Later I became an investigator including a robbery investigator. I have spent countless hours in interrogation rooms talking to hold up men. I know them. I am still an investigator but have quit playing the Robbery game because my family was starting to forget what I looked like.

The Enemy

Some may object to me calling hold up men "the enemy". You can call them whatever you like. I can assure you however they are as deadly an enemy as you will find anywhere but the battlefield. Even many soldiers probably lack the viciousness and utter disregard for life most hold up men possess.

No one wakes up in the morning one day and decides to become an armed robber. It is a gradual process that requires some experience and desensitizing. Before a man will pick up a gun and threaten to kill people who have done him no harm in order to get their usually meager possessions he has to get comfortable with some things.

He has to get used to seeing others as objects for him to exploit. He has to accept he may be killed while robbing. He has to accept the felony conviction for Robbery will haunt him all his life. He has to accept he may need to kill a completely innocent person to get away with his crime.

This is a process that starts with stealing candy at the corner store as a child. It progresses through bigger property crimes that may also involve violence. But one day G gets tired of selling his stolen property for nothing and decides it would be better to steal cash. Cut out all that tiresome sales stuff.

Keep in mind many petty thieves, auto burglars, residential and commercial burglars, paper thieves, and hustlers will get to that point and decide not to become armed robbers. Most will. It is a special group of outliers who decide threatening to kill people for a few dollars is the way to go.

Once a man starts armed robbing he has crossed a line most won't. Don't forget that when you are looking these bastards in the eye. Their decision to kill you is already made. Your life means nothing to him. Only his does. His sole motivation for not killing you is he doesn't want a murder case. He has already accepted he may pick one up though.

We hunt hold up men around the clock once they are identified. We send teams of fire breathing fence jumper/door kickers to find them. We will bring their mother to the office and convince her she is going to jail if we don't have Junior in our office in an hour. We have her call her son crying hysterically for him to turn himself in before she is arrested and held without bond as a material witness and her home seized for harboring him. Most of the time they won't. Fuck their own momma.

We will hit all Juniors friends and family's houses. We make it so no one will harbor him. He is so hot no one will let him in their house or even talk on the phone with him. We put money on him so he knows he is right to be betrayed and set up. We do this because of one thing.

That thing is they WILL kill someone if they keep robbing. That is why the city is willing to pay all the overtime. They don't want the murders. Think about that when you see Junior coming. The more robberies he does the closer he is to killing someone. Maybe you.

The guys who hit you on the street are gang members. They are Gangster Disciples, Vice Lords, Crips, Sureonos, many others. They do not see themselves as part of society. The street is all they know. They don't expect to live long or stay out of prison. They take a delight in your fear and suffering. They are warped individuals for the most part. They can be extremely dangerous.

One time we were locking up a hold up man and having a conversation about how they target their victims. I was saying they pick easy ones, another guy was saying they preferred easy ones but would take anybody.

I pointed out a uniform Officer there was an NFL size guy to that hold up man. Frankly the dude was a monster. I asked hold up man if he would rob him. He said "If I needed the money."

You

Chances are good you are a law abiding person except for maybe a little light weed smoking and maybe driving a little drunk every once in a while. Most of your life you have been taught to be nice and don't point guns at people. You are the exact opposite of your enemy who was taught just the opposite. Remember a lot of street life is like prison life. Who's the man is everything. Violence is the currency of the street.

You do not possess total disregard for the lives of others and do not want to kill anyone. You are concerned about the ramifications of shooting someone. Your family, your possessions and finances on the line. Your enemy has none of these concerns.

The laws that keep you from carrying your gun in bars or where ever mean nothing to your enemy. Your reluctance to shoot someone works to is advantage. His greater experience in street violence and the element of surprise is on his side.

Everyone should call their local FBI office and get a copy of Law Enforcement Officers Killed and Assaulted. When it first came out it was ground breaking because it demonstrated to academics and other elites what street police knew all along. What did it show in interviews with cop killers? Nice guys finish dead. That's right. Most of those offenders commented that the Officer they killed set himself up to be killed because of reluctance to use force early in the encounter.

You can probably find it on line now. A lot of the victim Officers were a lot like a lot of other people, normal people. They were the opposite of their enemy.

Am I advocating becoming the enemy? No. I am saying the person who is robbing you has certain traits, attitudes, and background. That is all.

Dynamics of Encounters

Hold up men target victims on the street in an impulsive, opportunistic manner. They see someone and make a quick judgment call on whether to rob them. The time between when you are targeted and they are on you isn't long. Therefore, situational awareness is everything.

If you see G coming you are in good shape. If you don't you will be the victim who says "He came out of nowhere". No he didn't. There are many tricks to watching out but simply watching your back is the main thing. Watch your back. If you do it enough it becomes second nature and you won't even realize you are doing it.

Watching out is great but unfortunately many self defense courses stop there. You have parked you car in a well lit area, are aware of your surroundings, and looky here, here comes three guys across the parking lot and they start to kind of fan out.

When you lock eyes with G the very first thing you need to do it indicate you have a weapon. It doesn't matter if you do or not. If you are a woman put your gun hand in your purse and keep it there. If you are a man fan your shirt or coat tail with your gun hand. Make it clear to dude you are mentally prepared to draw and making sure your gun is clear. This will many times result in an about face by dude. It is the single best robbery avoidance tactic IMHO.

Not long ago I was walking down the sidewalk in my town to go get my car. I was holding a folding chair in my gun hand. A car slow rolled past me with 4 heads in it. The guys in the back seat turned around as they went by looking at me. They went a little farther and U turned in the street.

Here they come back. As they started to slow down I looked at them with as contemptuous a look as I could muster and switched the chair to my left hand and flicked my shirt tail with my right hand. They just drove on mad dogging me.

In another case I was at a Christmas party and walked a girl to her car about 3 am. As we said our good-byes two guys were walking across the parking lot. One went behind a dumpster. I though he was peeing. He came out from behind the dumpster with a bottle.

As they got closer I stepped clear of that girl and unzipped my jacket at those two guys. When I did the guy threw down the bottle and they walked by cussing at me. If someone challenges you after you indicate you are armed, say "I don't have a gun." Then they will know you do.

Here is an opposite story. A girl my brother knows was walking her dog when a guy approached her. She was polite. Mistake. He talked to her about the dog and said she had pretty hair and reached out and touched her hair. She did not slap his hand down or aggressively object. Mistake. He asked her if her dog bit and she said "No". At that time he slapped the shit out of her, drug her into a wooded area, and raped her.

The answer in the street is always "No". Can I ask you something? No. Do you have a cigarette? No. Can you tell me what time it is? No. The answer is always "No". Don't be nice. Stop the encounter as soon as it starts.

When to draw

Despite warnings I often see on the Net I have yet to encounter an instance in which a hold up man called the police to report his intended victim threatened to shoot him. Thugs do not want to come into contact with the police. They may already be wanted or realize chances are good they have been identified in a recent robbery. Or what ever. They are not going to call the police if you draw on them.

Supposed two guys are approaching you in a parking lot and do the classic fan out maneuver. You indicate you have a weapon by clearing your gun hand and fanning your jacket at them. They are not discouraged. DRAW!

I am not saying you should pull your gun out, assume a Weaver stance, and scream "That's close enough motherfuckers!" What I am saying is draw your gun and hold it beside your leg as you start to move to cover. I am very fond of telephone poles. Anything will do though. They will see this. They will remember they have to be somewhere else. They will not call the police.

Then you can just put your gun back in the holster and go back to whatever you were doing like nothing happened. Why? Because nothing did happen. A happening is when shots are fired.

Do not hesitate to draw. If you are somewhere you are supposed to be and someone appears who is not supposed to be there like a closed business show him the end of your gun. Could it be Mother Teresa looking for her lost cat behind your closed business? No it is some motherfucker up to no good. He won't call the police to report he was prowling a location when a guy ran him off.

When to shoot

The time to shoot is immediately upon seeing his weapon. You are not a policeman who has to try to arrest the guy. No need to scream at him. No exposure while you yell for him to drop the gun.

In deer hunting the experienced hunter takes the first good shot. May not be the perfect shot but it never is. Novices pass up a doable shot waiting for a better shot and then the deer is gone. Take the first good shot you are offered. Hopefully your alertness and hostile cues will prevent you ever having to fire. But once you see his weapon, shoot.

If a guy is coming at you with a gun in his hand shoot him. Shoot him right then. If you don't shoot first you may not shoot at all. I have known more than one person who was shot and received life changing injuries and also shot their attacker. Their only regret was not shooting sooner. Like Bill Jordan said "Nothing disturbs your enemy's aim like a slug delivered to the belt buckle area".


Guns and weapons

The handgun is the best weapon you can carry easily. I understand it is not always possible to have one due to laws, restrictions, whatever. I am not telling anyone to disregard laws about carrying weapons. Each person has to decide for themselves what they are comfortable with. I will say there is no substitute for a pistol when you need one.

Also if you can not be trusted with a pistol after a few drinks you can't be trusted with a pistol period. Booze is liquid bad judgment no doubt but it shouldn't make you into a damn moron. If you are a moron sober I don't know what to tell you.

Types of guns and ammo are always debated and probably always will be. I have seen people shot with all common calibers. My conclusion is if you hit someone between the collar bone and the tip of their ribs three times with anything, they are handled. Bigger is better but something is better than nothing. Get your front sight on his shirt and stay on him as long as he is standing with whatever gun you have.

Just have a gun with sure fire ammo. Draw early and fire immediately upon seeing his weapon. That course of action is about all you can do to up your odds of ending things favorably. Guns like the Ruger LC9, SIG 239, Glock 26/27 are examples of guns small enough to carry but with enough power and capacity to be useful. Do not be afraid to use a French Lebelle if that is the only gun you have. A gun is a gun. I like a Glock 19.

Training

We all want the best training. It can be expensive if you are having to pay for it and it can be hard to find the time to do it. There is a whole lot of BS out there. What can you do? First, pistol handling is not rocket surgery. If you will learn the basics and practice on your own you can be fine. Smooth draw, quick pairs, reload. If you know those things well you can be OK.

I know a young man who shot down two hold up men in 2010 at very close range while he and his GF were walking home from the store. He in Wyatt Earp like fashion ignored the fire coming from the gunman and killed him and wounded his accomplice. He nor his GF were injured. He like many was willing to give them the money until he picked up on nonverbal cues that because of his GF they were not quite satisfied with the money. He had a Glock 27.

He had only the most basic of training in gun handling but did do some draws and some dry fire a couple times a week and live fired maybe once a month. That basic skill combined with knowing what to do was enough. He shot at the first possible moment despite having let the guys get the drop on them. When the gunman turned his head because a car drove by that was the opening. A split second is a long time sometimes.

Work on some one hand shooting at close range. That is a skill not as popular as it once was and you want to use two hands when you can. Often you can find yourself doing something with your off hand though so be able to shoot with one hand out to 5 yards or so.

After

If it comes to pass you are forced to shoot someone do not feel bad. When the police come just tell them a guy threatened you with deadly force and you were forced to fire. I know there are bad police out there in some parts of the country who don't support self defense. I can't help you with that.

Do not talk to them until you have your attorney present. Now most young guys don't have an attorney on retainer and you may have no idea who to call. That is OK. You will figure it out but in the mean time don't talk about what happened other than to say you were forced to fire. You don't have to be an asshole just remember wait for your attorney.

Hopefully you will not give a statement for a couple days. Remember if you are put in jail that doesn't mean you are charged. Most places can hold you 48 or 72 hours on a felony before charging you or letting you go. Breath deep and get an attorney.

Expect to never get your gun back. You may get it back one day but maybe not. Do not buy expensive guns for the street. Buy yourself a nice sporting gun if you want a nice gun. Keep your street guns basic. The factory Model 10 Smith and the GI 45 have done a lot of work over the years and aren't fancy.

Worlds

We all live in different worlds. My world is filled with felons and gang members. Violence is common place. No one would be surprised if one of their friends called and said they shot a hold up man at a place of business or parking lot. In the past when I made calls the fact that the guy who is beating his GF is also on parole for 2nd degree murder flavored my world.

You may live in a smaller, less violent place where shootings seldom occur and it would be a rare to shoot a hold up man. I envy you and will be moving to a place like your town as soon as I can.

But be advised no matter where you are a hold man is going to be about the same. Whether he is a home boy or a guy who just exited the interstate into your town and needs some quick money. He is going to have a vicious streak and no regard for your life. Treat him like he treats you.

Giving them the money, doing what they say, all that may work but there is no guarantee. If you have never read Jeff Cooper's book The Principles of Personal Defense. I suggest you order a copy immediately. It is a short book but summarizes a lot of important things.

Last year we had a trial here regarding an armed robbery that occurred. Three or four guys took a young couple from a parking garage near a college out by some railroad tracks where they raped, shot, and beat them. Their lives will never be the same.

The lesser thugs all turned on the trigger man at trial. The trigger man's statement in the paper was after all that had happened he felt like he was a victim. Think about that. That is the mindset you are up against. "

Definitely sexist. Definitly not safe for work. You've been warned.

OK, so I'm a retired ad agency creative guy.

I could only wish that we'd had a client this agile and with this kind of a budget for something that had to have been pure fun to shoot and produce.

Over the years, I wrote and produced a lot of television and radio commercials, but this is the kind that upon completion and airing, I would've instantly retired because nothing is going to top it.

We did open up major offices in London and Paris, but European advertising is vastly different from North American advertising, as you're about to see.

Warning: Sexist and NOT SAFE for work. (My wife thought it was hilarious, though.)

Fleggaard television ad.

Enjoy.

Free smile on your face. (We need to smile about something these days)

I won the lottery back in 1999.

Not money, nothing that easy. No, instead I was the creative director who managed to snag Benjamin Wallace into the employ of our national ad agency and put him to work as a copywriter.

And did it ever pay off.

Ben and Patty Wallace are two of the most talented, creative people I know. Patty, Ben's wife, designed the cover for Above Reproach. She's an art director--a damn good one--and she freelances on the side. She's done a number of covers. If you know a writer who needs a top-shelf cover, contact her (I linked on her name).

Ben wrote and published his first book exactly one year ago today--and today he's put it up for a free download as a celebration.

I'll tell you right here and right now, this is a fun book to read. The description seems a bit silly, but the book is more of a look at an alternative post-apocalyptic world after the SHTF--that scenario us gun-owners are always prepping for. Or TEOTWAWKI (I think I got that acronym right).

And again, it's FREE today (1 May 2012).

I found myself chuckling out loud enough that the wife banished me to the easy chair in the living room at night (can't read this one in bed). I'd get up to get another soft drink and find that I had a big grin on my face.

Reading is supposed to allow us to escape, to breathe in, to relax. . . to forget for a while. We have enough crap going on around us right now what with politics, despot leaders (in other countries, too), poor economy, skyrocketing gas prices, etc etc.

How about something fun? Download Post Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors today, FOR FREE, and read it at your leisure. Good stuff.

Oh and by the way--Ben and Patty are part of our group. They're gun-owners and patriots. They're traditional parents. They had guns before they had children, and guess what? When they started a family, they didn't give up the guns "for the children's safety."

They got a gun safe. They know Eddie Eagle and the routine for their oldest boy should he, or a friend, come across an unattended firearm: Stop. Don't touch. Leave the area. Tell an adult.

The Wallaces are our kind of people. Download Ben's book today and enjoy it.

We're gun owners. We take care of our own.

A new low for a bottom feeder (that would be our president).

I'm too mad to do much typing on this one. I'm simply going to give you the link to the story.

This SOB has got to go in November.

Has to go.