"I carry a gun..."

"...because a cop is too heavy."

This is the response I normally give people when they ask me why I have a Concealed Weapons Permit and carry a concealed firearm. I give this answer when a) I'm not in the mood to go into lengthy explanations as to why it's a good idea to be able to protect your own life instead of relying on someone else to do it for you, or b) the person asking the question is a borderline idiot and/or a "Brady Bunch" kinda person whom I'd rather not waste my time with.

But just for the sake of the argument - that, plus the fact that this is my blog - let's take a look at that simple statement, shall we?

"I carry a gun because a cop is too heavy." So just what, exactly, do I mean by that? Simple - I'd rather be able to protect my own life right then and there, at that moment in time when it needs to be protected, than wait for a police officer to arrive on the scene and assist me because by the time he'd get there, I'd already be dead and my killer would be long gone.

Before I get too deeply into this, let me state right now that I have ZERO problem with the police. Hell, I was a Law Enforcement Specialist in the Air Force for 19 of the 23 years I was in, so I know just what police work is all about. I know about response times and things like that, and for that reason alone I'd MUCH rather be able to protect myself rather than wait for the SEVEN TO TEN MINUTES it will take a police car to reach you when you make the 911 call. The bad guys ain't gonna wait that long, count on it.

Aside from that, the courts have stated in plain language that the police have no responsibility to protect you from harm or act as a bodyguard. That's because it's not their friggin' job! Their job is law enforcement, NOT personal protection. Anyone who thinks that the job of the police is to protect you from harm 24 hours a day, 7 days a week is living in a dream world. There is a HUGE difference between "law enforcement" and "personal protection," lemme tell ya! And it is NOT the cops' job to protect you...that's why we have (drum roll, please!) THE SECOND AMENDMENT. It's YOUR job to protect YOURSELF, and our Founding Fathers gave us the means to do it.

My life is worth protecting, and it's so valuable to me that I absolutely refuse to entrust that duty to anyone else. Period. I'd rather do it myself, and I absolutely will and do arm myself to do just that. I also think that the lives of my family and friends are equally as valuable and worth protecting, and I absolutely would not hesitate to pop a cap in your ass if you threaten me, my family, or my friends with serious bodily injury and/or death. It's just that simple.

Okay, so for all of you nice folks out there who disagree with what I've said so far, lemme paint a picture for you: it's 9:45PM, and you're just leaving the mall. You walk out into the parking lot and approach your car when you notice two punks leaning against your car. You don't want your car beaten to death by all of the mall parking lot morons, so you park in Outer Mongolia rather than park next to the building, which means that you're on the far end of the parking lot and way out of casual view by the other folks leaving the mall. As you approach your car, the two punks stand up and approach you, one standing in front of you and the other placing himself off to your right, far enough so that you can't see them both at the same time. The one standing in front of you produces a knife and snarls, "Gimme the money, muthafucka, or I'm gonna cut you!"

Pop quiz, hotshot: WHAT DO YOU DO NOW? Your choices are:

a) Ask the young man to wait while you call 911 on your cell phone
b) Give him your money and hope that he doesn't cut you up like a loaf of rye bread anyway
c) Tell him you don't have any money and hope that he doesn't cut you up like a loaf of rye bread anyway
d) Draw your legally-carried concealed .357 Magnum and chide the young man for bringing a knife to a gunfight.

True story, folks. Happened to me coming out of the Coliseum Mall in Hampton, Virginia one hot July night in 1994. As soon as the pistol came out, the knife hit the ground and the two punks ran for their lives. Thankfully, I didn't have to shoot anybody. But I would have, count on it. Had the punk not dropped the knife or had he taken so much as one step towards me, I'd have blown his fuckin' head right off and not felt bad about it for a microsecond. Protecting my own life is that important to me, and it always will be.

Want to know a sure-fire way to lose my business forever if you're a business owner? Post a "No concealed weapons" sign on your door. Basically, what you're telling me is that in order to do business in your establishment, I have to give up my right to protect my own life.

Sorry, what you're selling isn't worth it.

Face facts, people - it's a tough world out there sometimes, and you better be able to take care of yourself when the crap hits the fan. All of the gun control laws in the world won't help you when you have a punk in your face with a knife or a gun, threatening your life and the lives of your loved ones. I'd be willing to bet that if that particular situation ever happened to Chuck Schumer, Ted Kennedy, or Billary Clinton, they'd be wishing to God for a pistol right about then.

As for me...well, I won't be wishing for a pistol.

I'll be deciding WHICH ONE to use.

IHC

'Tis the season, I reckon...

So here it is two days before Christmas, but something feels different this year. The feeling about it just being different this year has been nagging on the outside of my conciousness for the past few weeks, and up until a few days ago I hadn't the slightest idea of what was causing it.

And then, out of the clear blue nowhere, I figured it out. I sat back one night and reflected on what I had been thinking about over the past few weeks, which were the Christmases past, and I suddenly realized why this year just felt different.

It was because of WHICH Christmases past I had been remembering.

I was remembering Christmas 1979, which was my first Christmas away from my family and my home. That year found me in the Air Force and stationed at Kunsan Air Base, South Korea. I was a Sergeant assigned to the Customs and Border Clearance Section of the 8th Security Police Squadron, and since I was working a Monday through Friday, 0700 to 1600 hours, weekends and holidays off REMF job (that's Rear Echelon Mother F*cker for you civilian types), I was off on Christmas Day. Me and the other dorm rats of Building 1423 threw a Christmas party, and I gotta say that it wasn't half bad. We were all intent on doing three things: having fun, getting drunk, and trying to forget that we were 12,000 miles away from home and family.

I was remembering Christmas of 1982 when I was a Staff Sergeant and a brand-new Military Training Instructor assigned to the 3711th Basic Military Training Squadron at Lackland AFB, Texas. I had just picked up my very first flight of basic trainees on December 17th, all of whom would be spending their very first Christmas in the Air Force away from their homes and families. I went through four Christmases like that, from 1982 to 1986.

I was remembering Christmas of 1989 when I was once again in South Korea, assigned to the 6168th Combat Support Squadron, Security Police Flight, Taegu Air Base. I was a Technical Sergeant assigned as the Flight Chief of a Law Enforcement Flight of eleven troops. No REMF job this time around, though - Christmas Eve found me working the swing shift, getting off duty at 2200 hours (ten PM) and then heading up to the NCO Club to have a few drinks, play some darts, and try to keep my mind off of the fact that I was once again on the other side of the world and away from my family during the holiday season.

I was remembering Christmas of 1990, the Christmas I was supposed to be spending with my family after being in Korea the year before, but Saddam Hussein screwed that up for me. That year found me assigned to the 1st Security Police Squadron, Langley Air Force Base, Virginia and deployed to Dhahran Air Base, Saudi Arabia in support of Operation DESERT SHIELD. This was a particularly hard one for me because it was the second year in a row I missed, and we were in a Muslim country which meant that we couldn't even decorate for the holidays. But that all banded us together somehow, that and the fact that we all knew the shooting was going to start pretty damned soon. I was off Christmas Day, but since we were in a dry country in a "bare base" environment, there really wasn't that much to do.

And then I would always find myself thinking about my son, who is currently in the Air Force and is a Technical Sergeant of Security Police, now deployed to Iraq for the second time away from his wife and family.

I find myself remembering what it was like to be a serviceman overseas away from family and friends and loved ones during this most special of holiday seasons, and I inevitably think of the men and women in uniform today, in that very same situation, far away from home, wishing they were all somewhere else.

And that's what's been bothering me this year; that's what has made this year different. I can't help but think about all of our servicemen and women who are far away from home and family, and I wish it wasn't so.

I also feel like I should be over there with them. Lonnie, Bulldog, I know you two understand, as will anyone else who's ever served.

So in the hustle and bustle of the next 48 hours, when you're busy unwrapping presents, drinking egg nogg, singing carols and celebrating with family and friends, please take a minute out of your day and remember the men and women in uniform who are protecting us and enabling us to celebrate, and who can't celebrate as we can because of where they are. Drink a toast to them and say a quick prayer of godspeed and safe journeys home, because they surely deserve it.

To my brothers and sisters in uniform around the globe - Merry Christmas, and God bless you all.

IHC

America, You've Been Lied To...

And the lying has been done by your President-elect, Barack Hussein Obama. (I say "YOUR" instead of "OUR" because I didn't vote for the man, and much like the Democrats did in the last two elections, I'm not claiming him as MY president. But I digress...)

Here's the lie told by The Great Pretender during his presidential campaign: "I am a supporter of the Second Amendment." Sounds good, right? I mean, it's pretty clear-cut at first, right?

Until you go to his web site, which listed four of his "top priorities" for gun control within days - DAYS - after his election. And for those of you who, like myself, would cut your own hand off before clicking on the link to his site, here's his plan.

1. Make the expired federal assault weapons ban permanent.

This is the Clinton gun ban that President Bush let expire when it ran out and failed to get the needed votes in Congress in order to be reinstated. When the ban failed to get renewed, the gun control crowd went nuts with the usual claims that crime would rise, there'd be blood in the streets, and it would be generally the end of civilization. Well, the FBI just released its report on crime statistics for 2007 and the report shows that crime is at its lowest level since the mid-1960's! The trend listed in the report shows very clearly that over the past few years gun ownership has skyrocketed, and crime has plummetted. There's a connection here, y'all....can you see it? Obama, by the way, voted FOR the gun ban when "Slick Willy" proposed it, and he voted FOR its renewal.

2. Repeal the Tiahrt Amendment.

Simply put, this amendment prohibits the release of BATFE firearms tracing information to anyone other than a law enforcement agency conducting an official criminal investigation. This means that a lawyer who wishes to file a frivolous lawsuit against a gun manufacturer can't get his slimy paws on the info about your guns. This is important to the Brady Bunch because one of their tactics is to drive the gun manufacturers out of business by suing them into oblivion. This amendment, by the way, was supported by the Fraternal Order of Police as well as the BATFE themselves. I guess Obama thinks he's smarter than the thousands of members of these two organizations.

3. Close the "gun show loophole."

Simply put, there is no loophole. Federal law requires a firearm dealer to conduct a background check on all persons who purchase firearms from them; a private citizen selling his own firearms from his personal collection has no such obligation. If you've ever been to a gun show and taken a good look around, you'll see that the majority of people there are licensed firearm dealers, and when you go to purchase a firearm from them, guess what they have you fill out? Correct! The federal background check form! And unless you have a CCW license, you will NOT get the gun until your background check clears. Which means you won't walk away with it that day. The rest of the folks there are private citizens, selling their own weapons out of their own collections. So you see, there IS no "loophole."

4. Make guns in this country childproof.

"Childproof" is nothing more than a made-up term for a list of schemes designed to ultimately prevent the sale of firearms by imposing either highly expensive or impossible design requirements, such as 'biometric shooter identification' or 'smart gun' technology. This technology, as of today's date, DOES NOT EXIST. But that won't stop The Great Pretender from using it to infringe upon your rights.

The NRA/ILA (that's National Rifle Associate Institute for legislative Action) sent out an e-mail alert on this information to all of its members, of which I am one, and just days later this item was mysteriously missing from the Obama web site. Gee, I wonder why that is? Could it possibly be that the transition team and the Great Pretender didn't want the truth to come out? I mean, why else would you post and then remove something when it came under scrutiny?

Sounds to me like they're hiding something.

Okay, so some of you are just going to dismiss what I've said as just another "bitter" American clinging to his guns and his Bible, and ya know what? You're right - I most certainly am bitter, and I definitely am an American, and I do read the Bible, so I guess I'm guilty as charged. But here's a suggestion for you: don't take what I've said here as fact. Check it out for yourself - do a web search for Obama's voting record in Congress, and see for yourself just what he's voted for and what he's voted against.

You know the old saying that "actions speak louder than words?" Well, get ready for a shock. Obama supports the Second Amendment like I support his being President.

Not one damned bit.

IHC

Of Paternity Tests, Self Humiliation, and Low Moral Values

If you’re like me, you’ve seen The Maury Show on mid-day TV and are quite familiar with what seems to have become the main staple of the show – paternity tests. And, if you’re like me, you’ve become so tired of these shows that you’re ready to gouge your eyeballs out whenever you see it on the screen.

The logic of what motivates these young women mystifies me at times. I mean, it’s one thing if you’ve been in a relationship with a man who fathered your child, then the lowlife scumbag dumps you and claims the kid isn’t his. I’m ok with that, sure. But what mystifies me is the FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL who is coming on the show FOR THE EIGHTH TIME to see if she can find out who the daddy of her baby is, and she’s now testing THE TWELFTH MAN to see if he’s the daddy.

Are you kiddin’ me? Am I the only one who has sat back and said, “Well, let’s see, if she’s testing the twelfth man for paternity, that means that she had sex with AT LEAST twelve men IN A THIRTY DAY PERIOD, because that’s the normal human female menstrual cycle, right? That would equate out to the young “lady” being with a different man about every two and a half days! And did you forget that she’s FIFTEEN?

Can you say, “SLUT?” I’m not so sure I’d be that quick to parade my sorry ass on TV to find out who the daddy of my illegitimate baby is, especially if I was that young. And you just gotta ask yourself, where the hell were the parents? Is this what our youth are being taught? That it’s OK to be promiscuous – oh, let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? It’s okay to screw everything in the neighborhood with a dick – because when you get knocked up and have no idea who pappy is, all you have to do is contact good ol’ Maury and he’ll help you figure out which welfare daddy you get to sue for child support.

Here’s a quick, easy, and cost-free solution for you: KEEP YOUR FRIGGIN’ LEGS CLOSED, YA TRAMP!

And then, there’s the guys…you’ve seen ‘em, the self-styled “playahs” who take great pride in the fact that they’re screwing every “ho” in the neighborhood and who constantly deny the inevitable trail of babies they leave behind. They get on the show, show their faces as they stand there while the fifteen year old mother tells everyone what a bad person they are, then they come out and deny everything. They lay the blame on the mother, claiming that she’s a slut – which she is – and a “ho” – which she is – and that there’s just no way that he’s the baby’s daddy. And why not? Well, take your pick – the reasons are many and varied. “The doctor told me I can’t have kids.” Yet the asshole is seventeen and never been sick or injured. “The doctor told me I can’t have girls, only boys.” How is that, genius? I know medical science has come a long way, but I don’t think it’s come so far that it can tell which chromosomes you may or may not have, thereby predicting what sex the child will be. “I just know that I ain’t that baby’s daddy!” So, what, in addition to being a “playah” you’re also clairvoyant?

And inevitably, when the test results come out, 9 times out of 10 it’s the same: “You ARE the father!”

Like there was going to be any other results.

I keep coming back to one thing: where in the hell are the parents while the girl is out banging everything in pants, and the “playah” is out there sowing his seeds and littering the town with his illegitimate kids which he has no way to support? But then again, no worries there – that’s what the welfare system is for, right?

If this is where today’s youth is headed – one segment of it, anyway – we should all be afraid. Very afraid.

As for me, right now I’m just disgusted, and I don’t know who disgusts me more – the girl for not learning the magic of keeping her legs closed, the guy for the irresponsible use of his dick all over town, the parents for not keeping either of them in check, or Maury for giving them a medium to exploit.

This is not exactly what I call, “entertainment.”

But then, that’s just me.

IHC

Christmastime and the traditional Holiday Beefstick

Oh, stop it...not talkin' about that kind of beefstick!

Anyway, most families that celebrate Christmas have a holiday tradition or two that they carry out every year during the holiday season. I have one, too, and it involves a Pepperidge Farms Beefstick. It goes like this.......

Waaaaay back in 1979 when I was naught but a 22 year old sergeant serving in the United States Air Force, Christmas of that year found me at Kunsan Air Base in the Republic of South Korea. I had been married about 18 months, just had a newborn son born to me the month previous, and had never been away on a remote tour before. (A remote tour, for those civilians among us, is when you go overseas for a year and can't take your family with you.) So needless to say, Christmas was going to be a challenge for me.

That's when my father and mother , bless their hearts, came up with a novel idea.

One of the things you missed the most in Korea at that time was good old American food. See, back then there were no McDonald's incountry or any other kind of American food place, and the only American food you could get was at the big commissary - in Osan, 200 miles north. At my base we were limited to what we could get at the Base Exchange, which wasn't much. And the mail service was slow at best, so any food you sent over to Korea had to be non-perishable.

So my parents came up with the idea of sending me a Pepperidge Farms Beefstick. All two feet of it! To say it was popular in the barracks would be a huge understatement! We had a hell of a party around just the beefstick! I loved it because I love beefsticks, and it was a taste of home in a land very far away. It also meant something to me because my parents had sent it to me. That alone made it special.

So the next Christmas when I was at home, they sent me and my family another one. And the tradition was born...every year since then, I've gotten a beefstick for Christmas from my parents. And that includes the Christmas I spent in Taegu Air Base, Korea in 1989 and the Christmas I spent in Saudi Arabia during Operation DESERT SHIELD. On both occasions - especially in Saudi Arabia - the beefstick was really popular with my coworkers, and I literally had to keep it under lock and key when I was in the Gulf!

My son joined the Air Force the same year I retired, and when he went away for his first holiday I fully intended on sending him a beefstick to keep the tradition alive...and then I thought, 'Nope, better let my parents do it.' After all, THEY are the ones who started the tradition, so by all rights it should be them who continue it. So every year for the ten years my son has been in the service he's gotten a beefstick for the holidays from my parents - and that includes Christmas 2003 when he was in Iraq, and again this year in the same place.

So the tradition will continue, at least for as long as I'm around. I'll pick it up when it's my time - which I hope will be a LONG time from now - and if my son has children and one of them is a boy who joins the service, I suspect the tradition will continue.

And that's just fine with me.

IHC

Concealed Carry now allowed in National Parks...it's about time!

For those of you who may have missed it, here's a link to the story outlining the fact that it is now legal to carry concealed weapons in National Parks:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28072607/

Personally, I think this is the best thing to happen since the Heller ruling! Another positive step towards protection our Constitutional rights, not to mention making it easier to protect something just as valuable - namely, your own life.

So here's a quote or two from the article that draws my attention for its obvious lunacy - obvious to everyone except the moron who spoke it, that is.

"Once again, political leaders in the Bush administration have ignored the preferences of the American public by succumbing to political pressure, in this case generated by the National Rifle Association," said Bill Wade, president of the Coalition of National Park Service Retirees."

Just which "American public" is this jerkoff referring to? I don't recall seeing anything anywhere about the "American public" being opposed to being able to defend itself in National Parks. The Park Rangers sure as hell can't protect you! Considering the sheer size of most National Parks and the number of park rangers per square mile, I'd say finding one in an emergency is gonna be a real chore! (Not the ranger's fault, by the way...they can only hire as many rangers as the Federal-mandated budget allows.)

"This regulation will put visitors, employees and precious resources of the National Park System at risk. We will do everything possible to overturn it and return to a commonsense approach to guns in national parks that has been working for decades," Wade said."

I'm confused....someone please explain to me exactly what "risk" is being run by allowing law-abiding, concealed weapons permit holders to carry their weapons in national parks? I always thought it was the bad guys - you know, the ones who IGNORE and BREAK the laws - who were the risk. Sounds to me like nothing more than typical Brady-bunch doublespeak.

For the life of me, I will never understand what the "anti-gun" crowd has to fear from law-abiding, honest citizens who want to carry a weapon concealed to protect their own life. Wake up, people! It's not US you need to be afraid of! It's the thugs, thieves, gangbangers, rapists and murderers you need to be afraid of!

Oh, I see....so the "logic" here is if you make the item illegal, then no one will be able to use it to do bad things, right? Just like drugs are illegal, so no one uses them and America doesn't have a drug problem, right?

Yeah, THAT works real well!

Oh, I see....so you want to limit law-abiding citizens from being able to purchase more than one gun a month in the "logic" that this will decrease the amount of illegal weapons on the streets. Guess you didn't read the FBI report on violent crime in which it stated that the vast majority of violent crimes that were committed with a firearm were committed with a STOLEN firearm.

Yeah, that works real well, too.

It's like this, people - right now there are more than TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND gun laws in effect nation-wide, and the statistics prove that THEY DON'T WORK. Here's a novel thought for ya - instead of passing more laws, why not just enforce the ones we already have? What a novel, brilliant idea!

Wanna know what DOES work to reduce violent crime? GIVE EVERYONE A CONCEALED WEAPONS PERMIT AND LET THEM ALL CARRY GUNS. In EVERY STATE where a "must issue" CCW law has been passed, violent crime has actually DROPPED. Gee, I wonder why that is? Maybe the con who was interviewed in a Florida prison about six years ago said it best when he said that violent crime was down because "everyone has a gun, and we don't wanna get shot either!"

Two phrases you just can't use together in the same sentence: "COMMON SENSE" and "GUN LAWS."

Ain't no such thing. And the sooner everyone realizes this, the better.

A few random Saturday Morning thoughts

If you're like me, you've been hearing all over the news lately how lousy the economy is. But in all of the gloom and doom it sure is nice to know that our government is fully aware of what's going on - I mean, after all, just this past week they "officially" declared the economy to be in a recession.

Well, ain't THAT just a great big BFO - that's Blinding Flash of the Obvious. Nice to see our tax dollars at work, isn't it? The government also said that we've BEEN in a recession for nearly a year...and we wonder why it takes Congress forever to get anything done!

On top of that, the Big Three automakers are going back to Washington, hat in hand and without the corporate jets this time, begging for the federal government to bail them out. Now, I don't know about you, but I sure as hell saw this coming. When the feds bailed out Wall Street and then Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, I told my wife right then and there that this was starting what was going to be a dangerous trend, and that the parade of "penniless" businessmen was soon going to start. And sure as hell, it has. Part of me says bail them out, and part of me says let them drown. If we bail them out, I'd insist on ALL THREE of the corporate big wigs - the CEOs - being kicked to the curb. I'd also insist on a VERY severe salary cut on the part of ALL corporate executives, the TOTAL ELIMINATION of ANY bonuses at any level higher than shift supervisor, and I'd want the money PAID BACK WITHIN TWO YEARS.

The part of me that says "bail them out" is motivated by two thoughts: the hundreds of thousands of Americans who would be out of work if we didn't do it, and the thought of America being populated by nothing but foreign cars. Somehow the idea of the State Police driving Toyotas just sits wrong with me, ya know? So as much as I hate to say it, it looks like the only recourse is to bail them out, but I sure as hell ain't happy about it.

Changing gears, today is the 143rd anniversary of the ratification of the 13th Amendment. That's the one that officially outlawed slavery and indential servitude in the United States. (No, my Yankee-educated friends, the Emancipation Proclamation did NOT end slavery in the United States, only in the Southern states over which Lincoln had no legal jurisdication at the time - but that's another story for another time.)

For those of us who are students of true American history and not the politically-correct, Northern version currently being taught in our school systems, this amendment is known as the "Illegal Amendment." Why, you ask? Simple. And I'll try to keep it short as well.

1) After the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, the Johnson administration declared that the Southern states were no longer a part of the Union (funny, I thought that's what the war was all about - keeping the Southern states IN the Union) and would have to be re-admitted.

2) A condition of re-admission to the Union was that the Southern states ratify the 13th Amendment.

3) In order for an amendment to be ratified, you must have a two-thirds majority vote. According to the Constitution, only states which are members of the Union can vote to ratify an Amendment. This would exclude territories and states in secession or otherwise not part of the Union.

4) Therefore, the Southern states - who had been declared "non-members" of the Union by the Johnson administration - had no legal right to vote for the amendment, and their votes for ratification should not have been counted.

And without the Southern state's votes, the Amendment would not have gotten the needed majority vote in order to pass!

An interesting little point in American history that the Yankee history books don't teach, huh? Now, before some narrow-minded little Yankee-educated moron jumps up and accuses me of being in favor of slavery, all I can say is maybe you should try reading my profile before opening your mouth.

Last but certainly not least for this morning, I see that O.J. "I Really Did It" Simpson is finally going to jail. Well, well, well, the American judicial system finally got it right. In all fairness, it wasn't the judicial system that screwed the pooch on that the first time, it was Marsha Clarke, that incompetant DA who totally botched the case from jump street. All I can say is if Vincent Bugliosi had been prosecuting O.J. the first time around, his ass would have been in jail way back in '95 serving two life sentences.

But justice has finally prevailed, so I guess I can live with that.

Time for some more coffee.

BOHICA, y'all.....

For those of you who have never served in the military, allow me to explain.

BOHICA is but one of many colorful slogans/abbreviations that are forever entwined in military life, the most famous of which is FUBAR. Right behind FUBAR is BOHICA, which stands for Bend Over, Here It Comes Again. I think the situation in which one would utter this time-honored phrase needs no further explanation...if it does, well, where have you been all your life? Up a tree and out on a limb?

In any event, friends and neighbors, everybody bend over, because here it comes again. The Great Pretender is all set to announce the members of his security council, with the Secretary of State slot being filled by none other than Billary Clinton, aka The Wicked Bitch of the North.

In case you haven't noticed, I can't stand her. I literally hate her...I mean, I despise her living entrails. The sound of her voice makes me wanna scream, and the sight of her makes me wanna vomit. She's the sleaziest, lyingest, most dishonest, self-serving, egotistical, power-hungry bitch to ever pop out of the birth canal. And if you catch me on a bad day I'll tell you how I REALLY feel about her.

I mean, c'mon...someone please tell me one thing, just ONE GOOD THING, that she's accomplished while serving in Congress. Just one, that's all....ONE THING SHE DID that has made the United States a better and/or safer place to live. Anybody? Anybody? Bueller? And we won't even talk about her stint as First Lady...you know, what she was doing when she had to "dodge sniper fire" in Bosnia while getting off the plane?

In any event, the thought of her being the one to represent the United States in meetings with the heads of state worldwide makes me wanna hang my head in shame and disgust. If ever there was a person NOT deserving of the post of SecState, believe me, she's it.

About the only positive thing I can think of that will come out of this, and I do think it's a good one, is that she won't be in Congress leading the charge against our Second Amendment rights on behalf of The Great Pretender. In that one respect, The Great Pretender has done us all a favor.

Kinda the "lesser of two evils," I guess.

Either way, it's gonna be a long four years. Oh, and for those of you who don't know, FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. Which is what our country is gonna look like in four years.

I hear a bottle of Sailor Jerry rum calling my name........

"Office of the President Elect?"

Excuse me, y'all, but am I missing something? Did someone do some fiddling with the elected offices in our government and create a new one called "The Office of the President Elect?" And if this was on the news, how did I miss it?

This one's been eating at me a while, too. And for all you Obama fans out there, unless you don't want to read something negative about your hero I suggest you move on to anther web page just about now.

So it's the day after the election, I'm watching the "Today" show on the tube while getting ready to go to work, and I see the newly-elected candidate standing behind a podium jabbering about something. I don't hear a word he's saying for two reasons: I could care less about what he's got to say because I didn't vote for him, and my attention is fixed on this blue sign with white letters that's attached to the front of the podium. The sign says, "OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT ELECT." I stand there for a moment or two, trying to comprehend what I'm seeing.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't ever recall seeing a newly-elected Presidential candidate speaking from behind a podium with this sign on it. Ever. I don't ever recall a president-elect who was so full of himself that he would dare have the audacity to post such a self-proclaimed, self-adoring, self-worshipping title such as that on a podium or anywhere else. Not even "Slick Willy" Clinton had the cajones to do that, although I'm sure his wife certainly suggested it. Nope, it would appear that Obama has added yet another "first" to his record.

Yeah, I know, it probably wasn't his idea but was thought up by one of the lemmings on his staff. But you can't tell me he wasn't briefed on it, approved it, and then stood behind the podium knowing that sign with the self-proclaimed title was on it. And that, friends and neighbors, is called "Culpable Liability."

So he stands behind that podium and says that we all must remember that "there's only one President" and people ought not be confused, that they must remember that Bush is still President and it's still Bush's show. And he says all this from a sign which waves in everyone's face the inevitable and sad fact that in very short order, HE is going to be President.

Like we didn't already know.

Is it me, or is there a mixed message here? Isn't this kinda like him saying, "Yeah, we only have one President, but we all know that he's a lame duck now and in very short order I'M going to be President, so just nod and smile at this guy because what he's saying now really doesn't matter because in very short order I'M going to be President? An oh, just in case you haven't heard the news, in very short order I'M going to be President!"

On the positive side....well, right now I can't see much of a positive side. I'm keeping a very close eye on who The Great Pretender is picking for his Cabinet, and so far I'm not impressed. I'm especially not impressed with his pick for Attorney General, a Clinton-era uber-liberal who has some of the most draconian anti-Second Amendment ideas next to Slick Willy himself. And I'm REALLY not gonna be impressed if he picks Billary Clinton as Secretary of State. Aside from the fact that I simply can't stand the sight of her - just the sound of her voice makes me wanna vomit - she's no more qualified to be SOS than The Great Pretender is to be POTUS.

So now Obama is out there telling us that his administration is going to "hit the ground running" and it's not going to be "business as usual" in Washington, DC. And he's telling us this from behind that sign, that self-adoring piece of cardboard that tells us he thinks he's really so much more important than he really is. Okay, so he talks the talk, but WILL he walk the walk? Time will tell.

And if all this sounds like sour grapes from a disappointed white Republican, you're right - that's exactly what it is. I'm just exercising my right as protected by the First Amendment. Besides, I have every right to bitch and complain.

I voted.

As I've said before, it's gonna be a long four years.

The Best Road Trip Ever

Every biker has one. Every biker alive at some point in his/her life has taken a road trip that they fondly recall as The Best Road Trip Ever. No, I’m not talking about a favorite route to ride, or a favorite day trip – we all have those, too, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about a road trip, a trip that takes you at least a day to get to where you’re going, you stay for a few days, and then it takes you at least a day to get back. THAT is a road trip, and THAT is what I’m talking about here.

My Best Road Trip Ever was the trip my wife Gina and I took from our home in Wantage, New Jersey to Daytona Beach, Florida for Biketoberfest 2003. This trip was special in a lot of ways, but the most important one was because this was the very first motorcycle road trip Gina had ever taken, and she had only been riding for four years. (Wanna know a secret? It was my first motorcycle road trip too, although I don’t think I ever told her that.)

We had talked about making a road trip ever since we got our Harleys in January and April of 2003. I got my Heritage Softail Classic in January, and Gina got her Low Rider in April. Almost immediately we started talking about taking a road trip; I suggested Virginia Beach, and she suggested Daytona Beach. It was too late for Bike Week (we ruled that out right away anyhow because we’d heard the crowds were incredible), so we set our sights on Biketoberfest. Gina was in charge of making the hotel reservations in Daytona Beach, and I was responsible for planning the route. When I asked Gina how far she wanted to go the first day she immediately replied, “I don’t wanna stop until we’re in South Carolina!” So we looked at the map and saw that the first town of any size once you crossed over into South Carolina was a town called Dillon, so we set that as our first day’s destination.

I did the math and quickly discovered that it would take us at least twelve hours to get there, and I had a feeling that Gina would be ready to stop for the night long before then. For that reason we didn’t even make a hotel reservation in Dillon; we just left it up in the air.

The day before we were supposed to leave we gassed up both bikes, packed up our clothing, and double-checked everything we needed to make the trip. Then I checked the weather and got the bad news – they were calling for severe thunderstorms all night long and into the morning, and once the storms were over they were calling for sustained winds of 25-30 MPH with gusts up to 45-50 MPH. It did not look like it was going to be a pleasant first day’s ride.

The morning of departure came, and we were ready to leave at six AM like we had planned. Only problem was, it was still raining – and raining HARD. The wind was blowing, thunder was booming, lighting was flashing, and it was raining like God had gone back on his promise. I checked Weatherbug and saw that this was the tail end of the thunderstorms that had been moving through most of the night, and that the rain should be gone in about an hour. So we made another cup of coffee and sat back, waiting for the rain to stop.

And it did. As soon as the rain moved out of the area, we put on our gear and left. It was 47 degrees outside, so we were dressed for it – chaps, insulated long sleeve shirts, insulated riding jackets, Buffs around our necks, heavy gloves and full-face helmets. We cranked the bikes, made the final adjustments, and hit the road for Daytona. The time was 7:05 AM.

Little did we know we were riding right into the most miserable six hours we were to ever spend on a motorcycle to date.

The wind was absolutely brutal. I mean, FEROCIOUS. The wind was blowing steady at 30 MPH, most of the time hitting us at a slight cross-angle, but sometimes coming at us head on or, worse yet, from a 90 degree angle. We were getting blown all over the road, and we both had to fight to keep the bikes under control and in our lanes every time the wind would gust – which was frequently. I had spent the past three months trying to talk Gina into putting a small detachable sport windshield on her Low Rider, and she had finally given in. When we stopped after the first two hours on the road, she told me right away that if she had not had that windshield on her bike, we would have turned around and gone home after the first half hour. Thank God for small favors.

The hairiest moment of that morning’s ride came as we were crossing Delaware into Maryland. There’s this great big, long, tall bridge crossing a river, and on a calm day it can surprise you with sudden wind gusts. This morning promised to be a real butt-clencher, and when we crossed the bridge we got exactly what we were expecting. Halfway across the wind gusted up on us and blew both of us clear into the next lane over. Thank God the bridge was four lanes, two in each direction, and that the lane next to us was NOT oncoming traffic. Once we got across the bridge I kinda figured that was going to be the worst of it, and I was right. The wind kept blowing us all over the place, but that was the worst of it.

The wind blew on us all the way from Wantage, NJ to Petersburg, Virginia for a total of six hours. Once we got into Petersburg the wind rapidly died away, and we both began to relax and start to enjoy the trip. We were able to get our speed up ad make some good time, which really helped.

Five hours later we were stopped at a gas station outside of Fayetteville, North Carolina where we had stopped for gas and to take a butt break. We were parked on the side of the station sharing a Diet Pepsi when I spoke up.

“Baby, we’ve had a pretty good day’s ride and have come a hell of a long way,” I said. “We have one of two things we can do: we can stop right here, check into that hotel right there (pointing to a Day’s Inn across the street), and in half an hour you can be in the tub soaking and I can be sitting on the couch with my feet up, drinking a beer. Or we can keep on going until we get to Dillon. Whichever you want to do will be just fine with me.” Her reply was immediate and to the point.

“I don’t wanna stop until we’re in Dillon, South Carolina!”

So we saddled up, got back on the road, and rode on for another two hours. It was full dark by the time we stopped, but when we stopped it was at the Hampton Inn in Dillon, South Carolina, and the time was 8:05 PM. We had been in the saddle for a whopping thirteen hours!

The next morning we got up at six, had breakfast at the Waffle House across the empty lot next to the hotel, and were on the road again by eight thirty. It was on this morning that the moment would come that would make this The Best Road Trip Ever.

It was 47 degrees again, so we dressed again the same way we had the day before. It was early in the morning, around 9:30 or so, the day was bright and clear with not a cloud in the sky, no wind (Thank God), and there was no traffic on 95 South. Gina slid over into the left lane and moved up next to me, and we rode side by side on the highway. And that was when The Moment came.

I looked over at Gina in the lane next to me and slightly behind me, and laughed at what I saw. Gina had her legs stretched out with her ankles propped on the highway pegs of her bike, her feet out in front of her, chaps flapping in the wind. Behind the face shield of her full face helmet she was wearing sunglasses, and she was grinning from ear to ear! When she saw me looking over at her she smiled even bigger, bobbing her head up and down as if “Born To Be Wild” were playing in the background! I laughed even harder at this, shot her a thumbs up, and we rode on down the highway side by side for about the next ten miles or so.

We made Daytona Beach by one in the afternoon, and by the time we got there we were wearing t-shirts, half helmets, and fingerless gloves. We stayed there for three and a half days and had a blast the whole time. Florida was beautiful, the bikes we saw were beautiful, we met up with some friends of ours and had a ball at the local bars, and all in all we had a great time. The ride back was pleasant with a stopover at my parent’s house in North Carolina for the night. The last days’ ride was good – until we got to New Jersey. As soon as we crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge into New Jersey it clouded up and threatened rain for the next four hours. We were two miles – TWO MILES – from the house when the skies opened up on us and drenched us. We pulled into the driveway tired, wet, and soggy, but happy. We had just finished our first big road trip, and I knew from that moment on the trip we had just finished would be, for me, The Best Road Trip Ever.

And it has been.

Is it 1/20/2013 Yet?

Well, I guess I should go ahead and get this off my chest. I’ve already alluded to it in my first couple of posts, so I guess now’s the time to let it out.

I’m talking about the recent presidential elections, of course.

First off, let me state that I’m glad to see that America has finally elected a black president. (I absolutely refuse to use any hyphenated title, no matter how popular…see my first post.) This was a long time coming, and I’m glad to see that it happened in my lifetime. I kinda figured it would, but I’m glad to see it happened sooner in my lifetime than later. The election of Barack Obama to the office of President of the United States has given the entire world proof positive that a black man in America stands just as much of a chance of getting ahead and becoming President as a white man. This also proves to all of the black people in America that it’s actually possible to become the man or woman you want to be, no matter what. All you have to do is work for it, apply yourself, have faith in yourself, and don’t give up. Do this, and you can become anything you want, even President of the United States.

Yep, America finally elected a black man President. Only thing is, he was elected for the wrong reason.

He wasn’t elected because of his experience; being a Senator for less than six months hardly qualifies you to be President of the United States.

He wasn’t elected for his proven leadership capabilities, because he’s never been in a position to be a leader of anything that I’m aware of.

He wasn’t elected because he’s done anything substantial aside from getting elected to the Senate. Not that I know of, anyway.

He wasn’t elected because he was head and shoulders better qualified than John McCain, although that may be subject to individual interpretation. My interpretation is that he wasn’t.

He wasn’t elected for any of these reasons. Not a single one.

He was elected because he’s black. Not “despite” being black, but BECAUSE he’s black.

I read a poll online recently that said Obama captured 95% of the black vote. NINETY FIVE PERCENT. Unless I miss my guess, that’s the highest percentage of votes ever captured in one group by any candidate in a Presidential election. It’s certainly higher than any percentage of the white vote ever captured by a white candidate, that’s for sure. And he didn’t capture this high percentage of votes because of his experience, his qualifications, his leadership ability, or anything else. He captured it because he’s black.

And honestly, it’s not his fault. He truly believes he is qualified to be President; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have run. I’m quite sure he knew damned good and well he’d win BECAUSE he was black, that he’d get a higher percentage of the black vote than any other candidate, but I don’t think he ever thought he’d get that much of it. Just my opinion, by the way; I didn’t read that anywhere.

In the weeks before the election, I heard with my own two ears at least five different black people say that they were voting for Obama simply because he was black. I never heard in any of these conversations any mention about his policies being good for America, about his leadership capabilities, or his passion for making America a better place to live. Nope, none of that was mentioned…what WAS mentioned was that it was “about time we had ONE OF US in the White House,” and “things are gonna be different once ONE OF US is in the White House,” things like that. And on top of that, Howard Stern sent his crew out into Harlem a few weeks before the election where they asked some of the people passing by – black people, of course – who they were voting for. When they inevitably said Barack Obama, the crew then asked them which of his policies made them want to vote for Obama, including his choice of SARAH PALIN as a running mate. The policies they asked about were, of course, John McCain’s policies…and EVERY SINGLE PERSON THEY ASKED all said that they loved the policies, it was why they were going to vote for him, and one of them even said that he thought Sarah Palin was a great woman, a perfect running mate, and would make a great Vice President.

They never had a clue. They had NO IDEA of what Obama’s policies are, or even who his running mate was. They broadcast to the world the fact that they were voting for Obama for one reason and one reason only: because he was black.

And that, friends and neighbors, is called RACISM.

A bumper sticker I read online a few days ago said it perfectly; it said, ‘Voting for someone because they are black is just as racist as voting against someone because they are black.” So lemme ask you this…if 95% of white America had voted for John McCain and Obama had lost the election, how long do you think it would have taken for someone – lots of someones, I would imagine – to jump up and scream “RACISM!”? I think you would have heard it before the election results were even finalized.

I also think that the very people who elected him did so for the wrong reasons, and they’re in for one hell of a big disappointment. If the black people who voted for him think that he’s “one of them” and is going to act that way in the White House, then they have a serious lack of understanding of the limitations of the Presidency, and they’ve totally forgotten about the Congress. They’ve also seriously underestimated Barack Obama as well. I may not agree with 99% of what the man stands for, but I will say that I am well aware that he is NOT “one of them.” He is NOT going to get into office and try to right two hundred plus years of perceived wrongs against the blacks in America. He is NOT going to get into office and start issuing decrees aimed at benefiting the blacks in America and totally ignoring the rest of the nation, specifically the whites. He is NOT going to get into office and become “one of them.”

And THAT is REALLY gonna piss some people off. LOTS of people. And then the same people who turned out in record numbers and voted him into office are going to label him an “Uncle Tom,” and are going to turn their backs on him, paving the way for the next POTUS to be another white guy.

But in the mean time, we’re going to have a new POTUS in another month and a half or so, and that thought scares the living crap outta me. Here’s why.

Just to set the record straight, as I said in my first post I’m a Republican. I voted for John McCain not because he was white, but because I agreed with more of his platform and ideas than I did with Obama. Skin color had nothing to do with it, believe me. If Condoleeza Rice had been running, I’d damn sure have voted for her. (At one time I was all for Colin Powell, but then he endorsed Obama and that soured me on him.) I didn’t vote for Obama for the following reasons:

1) He’s anti-gun. He voted for the Clinton Gun Ban, and if he had his way it would have been much more stringent and restrictive than the one that was passed. He also has plans to introduce a bill to pass this very ban, and if the Congress is controlled by the Democrats, he may just get it done.

2) He has this insane idea he calls the “redistribution of wealth.” In order words, he wants to take the money you and I make by our hard work and dedication, and GIVE it to the shiftless, lazy people among us who do nothing but sit on their asses all day, sucking off of the government tit rather than getting out and finding a job. Well, there’s a name for that, boys and girls – it’s called SOCIALISM.

3) As a part of this grand “redistribution of wealth” scheme, he wants to give rebate checks to PEOPLE WHO DON’T PAY TAXES. Excuse me, but just how stupid is that?

4) He said in one of his campaign speeches that when he won a primary in a state he didn’t expect to win that he was “finally proud of America.” And his bitch wife said the same thing later on. That is THE wrong thing to say to a career military man who also happens to be a war vet, lemme tell ya. That right there soured me on him for the rest of my life. I’ve ALWAYS been proud of my country, no matter what. That his country has to do something FOR him to make him proud makes me wanna puke. And then there’s that picture of him standing on a stage in front of an American flag with the two people behind him holding their hands over their hearts while the National Anthem is being played, and he’s standing there with his hands down in front of him. Like they say, one picture is worth a thousand words.

Personally, I don’t think the man is either qualified or deserving enough to be President, which is why I voted for McCain. But Obama won, even if it was for the wrong reason.

My hope now was most eloquently summed up by someone on the forum I frequent; he said, “I hope now that Obama is half as good as he says he is, and that he’s only half as bad as we think he is.” That just about sums it up.

I also hope that he doesn’t screw the pooch for another reason – if he does, he’ll set race relations back in the United States by about thirty years. It’ll be the last time a black man gets elected POTUS for a very long time (just as former Virginia governor Doug Wilder about that), and it will give the “one of US” crowd something else to complain about until the next black man finally gets elected POTUS.

Either way, it’s gonna be a very long four years.

Why I chose the name for my blog

If anyone is curious as to why I chose to name my blog "The View from Downrange," here's the answer.

"Downrange" is a military term that's used to describe the area where the bullets hit when you shoot at something. It's also used to describe in a general way where a group of soldiers are when they're outside the wire and out in the bush and you either don't know exactly where they are or can't say.

I felt this name was appropriate since, for the most part, like every other citizen of our nation I'm "downrange" when it comes to things happening around me. All I can do is stand there, watch the bullets hit around me, and hope one doesn't find me. The only time me or anyone else has a chance to actually change where the bullets may hit is once every four years in November, and in my humble opinion, we screwed that up this year....BIG TIME.

More on that later. Much more.

So for what it's worth, that's the reason I chose the name I did for my blog.

Well, the coffee's gone, the clock is ticking, and it's time to go to work and earn a living. I'd make a wisecrack about earning my pay so the government can give it away, but I said that last night, didn't I?

Oh, well, that's life "downrange."

A brief introduction...or something like that

One of the last things I thought I'd ever do was start a blog, but this morning right before I started to get ready for work the thought hit me - I needed an outlet to get some things out of my head, and the forum that I usually hang around on just didn't seem to be the place. I wanted a place I could call my own, I guess, so here it is. For what it's worth, anyway. I have no idea how many people - if any - will start following this blog, but for those that do here's what you can expect.

I'm an average citizen, an ordinary Joe in most respects. Nothing special about me, just another guy trying to make the best out of life and enjoy life while I can here on this green ball we call home. I'm honest to the point of brutality if I need to be, I call 'em as I see 'em, and I am NOT "politically correct." Actually, the mere mention of those two words makes my stomach turn.

Just because I'm from the South doesn't make me a racist - I was raised by my father to judge people by what they do and not by the color of their skin, and I've done that my whole life.

I try not to do or say anything that will piss anybody off, but there's no guarantees on that. If it happens, well, sorry about that. Either you were caught in the blast or you had it coming, one or the other.

I'm proud of our nation - always have been, always will be, and that's something our newly-elected president and his wife can't say. (Yeah, that's right, I'm also a Republican. Skin color has NOTHING to do with it.)

I don't believe in any form of a "hyponated" American, much like Teddy Roosevelt said a long time ago. I don't believe in "African-Americans," "Hispanic-Americans," "Irish-Americans," "Jewish-Americans," or any of that other PC bullshit. You're either an American or you're not, so make up your mind. I also believe that the sooner Congress gets off their overpaid, fat asses and makes ENGLISH our official language, the better. Maybe then you'll be able to walk into a store and NOT see signs in English and Spanish, or you won't be prompted to "press 1 for English" when you call a business on the phone. (To quote a line from "Pulp Fiction:" "ENGLISH, MOTHER FUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT!")

I like guns, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I believe completely and irrevocably in our Second Amendment right to own guns, and will never give up the fight to protect that right. "Gun control" means hitting what you're shooting at. And for the life of me, to my dying day I will NEVER understand why the anti-gun crowd doesn't understand the simple fact that so-called "gun control laws" will only be obeyed by honest citizens, and that the punks, thugs, thieves, rapists, and murderers in our society will completely ignore them. I have a feeling, though, that all it would take would be one chance encounter with one of the aforementioned punks to change the mind of the most rabid anti-gunner.

I'm also a biker. Yeah, I ride a Harley, I wear leather, I have loud pipes, and am damned proud of that, too. I have nothing against Japanese bikes, but I'll never ride or own one again. Kinda like going from a Honda to a Cadillac - once you make the jump, why go back? (And if I have to explain further than that, you won't understand.)

Well, that's about it for now. More will follow later...right now it's just after midnight and I have to work in the morning, so I ought to consider carrying my butt to bed and getting some sleep. Gotta go out there and earn some wealth so our new president can give it away, ya know?

Yeah, that's right, I'm one of those "bitter Americans" he was talking about. More on that later.

See ya.

IHC