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Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Everyone's a critic

I love to cook. And it's extremely rare for a dish I create to get a poor review from those whose taste buds are assaulted by my vittles.
I also enjoy watching cooking shows. I like to see new dishes I'd like to try making my way (cheap!).
Today I happened on a show called 'Chef At Large'. This particular episode concerned a new fancy restaurant that has been open less than a month, and a food critic scheduled to review them.
Now I've been told by many that I should open a restaurant. It's not gonna happen, but I was thinking how I would handle some fucking arrogant snob coming into my restaurant to review me. I'd have the bastard seated as soon as he walked in the door, and then ignore that motherfucker the rest of the night.
No glass of water, no menu, and let him write whatever the fuck he wanted.
What's he gonna do? Write a scathing review of me not giving a flying shit what he thinks? The simple response to this would be "I don't care what he thinks. I only care what you, my patrons, think."
Now this may be backward, uninformed, possibly even a death knell for my restaurant. As I never plan to open one, the question will remain moot.
And the older I get, the more I tend to lean toward this attitude in any person who tends to be critical of others. I may not always be right, but as I am so seldom wrong, I just don't have a lot of experience in it. And frankly, I just don't give a shit what most people think. So anytime someone is so self deluded and pompous that they imagine their opinion should be the final word on anything, I generally just want to go bitch slap them.
'Critics' by definition aren't in the game to praise. Their sole purpose is to be critical. And heaven forbid anyone disagree! I doubt everyone likes the same things I do. But I do know what I like. Critical people who somehow think they are better than others and have an aggrandized view of themselves simply annoy me.
I don't require everyone agree with my point of view. We're all unique in our definitions of what's good or bad. It's not necessary for me to garner you're approval.
Because I'm right and you can just get over it.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Why survive?

I read an article this morning that got me thinking about why I prepare. Lets face it, we all have our ideal of what we want our lives to be. For some it's a material ideal, and others seek a more introspective goal of reaching enlightenment.
I started really thinking about what I really want as the final result of my worldly existence. What reasons do I personally feel make life worth living?
My fondest memories of growing up don't revolve around presents or gifts received as a child. I no longer remember, with some very few exceptions, what I unwrapped on most Christmas mornings of my youth. I do however still remember the anticipation as I waited for the day to arrive, waking early, and knowing I couldn't wait to open my gifts. But one particular Christmas morning stands out in my memory. As one by one my family awoke, we gathered around the tree, and just sat quietly. Then someone started singing Silent Night, and we all joined in. It was sung quietly, reverently, and for a short time we were just glad to all be together, all healthy, and life was quiet and serene.
There are very few days during my school years that stand out in my memory. But I can still picture in my youth every day my dad would take the time to give me undivided attention teaching me how to take care of animals, using hand tools to create something that had been a pile of leftover scrap lumber from some building project or other. How to set traps, use weapons, and process my take from the bounty in nature.
Now I'm not reminiscing on my mostly happy childhood to put you to sleep. I simply wish to set the stage as I get to the point of this post.
I don't want to die. I quite frankly have no intention of doing so. I've always been contrary, and with everyone trying to tell I 'have' to die sometime, it makes me more ornery and determined to prove them wrong. But why? What do I want to live for? America and the quality of all our lives has been constantly degraded by more and more regulation and violations of our rights. So what is it that keeps me getting up every morning to face yet another day?
I've given this a great deal of thought this morning. My granddaughter may be coming to stay for a week or so, and I've been trying to picture how to keep her 'entertained' while she's here. I have only the basic of TV, no computer, only the most basic of internet use on this POS phone. How am I going to keep her enthused about spending time with this broken down old man?
And I realized the answer lies in what gives MY life meaning. All of my fondest memories from half a century revolve around creation. Taking scraps that would otherwise go to waste, and using skills my dad patiently taught me, making a house for a family of birds to grow up in. Understanding the ring of life. Both in the birth of plants from the soil and animals from the womb. And so many small things. Painting a picnic table with my dad. Playing a mock up game of baseball with my brothers. Sitting in the woods, waiting for the squirrels to get used to my presence in their domain, and then NOT shooting one because they were having so much obvious fun. Then gathering wild plants for dinner so I could stay out in the woods and enjoy the LACK of solitude for anyone attuned to the life that abounds around us.
I realized this morning I'm not homesteading to survive, I homestead to live. To raise animals that will sustain my life, while enriching it so much in their births, their antics as they interact with both myself and their families. And yes, their deaths as I respectfully end their lives in order to continue my own.
If I can instill even a tenth of my reverence for the quiet life I prefer in my granddaughter, my life will not have been wasted. Even before I was disabled, (a relative term, btw) and I worked with drug addicted and sexually deviant teenagers, I used to bring in pots, soil, and packs and packs of vegetable and flower seeds and let any kid wanting to start a plant to nurture and grow. This simple act saved some of their lives. At least if the many who still call me on my birthdays can be believed when they say that was a pivotal point for them
So I'm not going to entertain my granddaughter. I'm going to let her entertain me as I try to instill in her that it's not he who dies with the most toys who wins. It's he who has had an enriched life on the enrichment of others.



Saturday, May 9, 2015

quickie note

any foolproof plan is dependent on the talent and ability of the fool...

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Sunday, April 26, 2015

an interesting observation

I wasted a good part of my morning googling dirty cop videos. There are so many out there, you could spend a good part of a MONTH doing this, but why bother? Just put "dirty cop" in the browser of your choice and watch the listing grow...
A lot of them show cops planting drugs on cars they've had alerted on by canines.
Now, "alerting" is anything from barking, smelling the ham sammich you packed for lunch, or even taking a leak on your tire. Whatever the dog does, even just wagging it's fucking tail, can be interpreted unequivocally by the officer that it "senses" drugs in the car.
Using this as an excuse to rifle through your vehicle, they then proceed to find the illegal substances the dog alerted on.
My question is, if the dog is that fucking good, why do they then REMOVE the dog to do the search themselves? Wouldn't it be easier to let the fucking highly trained and overwhelmingly more qualified dog's senses pinpoint the stash?


Things that make you go hmmmmm...

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Who's afraid of the big bad USDA?

Received an email from Personal Liberty today touting the possible benefit of a new USDA application designed to help people save food by not throwing out perfectly good victuals just because of some silly little "sell by" date.
Now on the surface of this, it seems like something most folks reading this, including myself, would see as a good thing. With the economy under the Obama regime, who can afford to waste food? And I believe most folks here are also doing whatever they can to store a little extra beans, bullets, and band aids.
However, as much as I like the concept of this app, I have a certain distrust of ANY agency that has three letters, or begins with the two letters US.
I don't believe I want to use an app designed by the USDA to track my food storage. Or any government agency tracking anything about me; and yes, I know that they do and they are. But that doesn't mean I need to SEND it directly TO them!

for my brother

Mark lost everything in a recent house fire. He has a 24 year old daughter who is at a perpetual mental age of 2. He cares for his two grandchild boys under 10. Both he and his wife are in poor health.
I'm asking on his behalf to give him the support I cannot.


gofundme.com/rwt2ee6


I can't seem to get the link on here, but y'all know how this shit works.


Thanks
Xeno

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Okay, back into the fray

No, I haven't given up on our country. Our government, yes. The country, no.
But as I was perusing another site fomenting direct action against the PTB, a proposal I can't say I'm entirely against, a question came to mind.
There are a plethora of nihilists out there who have already given up. Convinced of the superior power of DC to overcome any resistance to their bid for tyranny.
Numerous times I've heard the argument that those in power have the full might of the "law enforcement" community, and control of the military, to put down any uprising of we revolting peasants. Or peasants revolting. Whichever...
And of course, I constantly hear the reverse of this premise; that honorable Americans, be they military or law "ignorant" officers, would NEVER fire on their fellow Americans.
While the news lately has been rampant with numerous occasions of our boys in blue doing exactly that, including shootings, beatings, mob mentality, and lying to defend the heinous actions of their fellows; whether they will stand against us is NOT the question I pose to you today.
My question is this: Are YOU ready to fire on them?
Before you jump up in your cammie-clad indignance, shouting HELL YES! while spilling your Schlitz malt liquor down your front, let me offer a scenario.


You're out on patrol. Creeping catlike through the forest in the late evening, looking for a known military force that has been looking for you. You're on point, and discover their camp. You also notice that the guard standing watch is your best friend from high school, is your wife's brother, and until he went to boot camp, the two of you were inseparable.


We talk constantly about how if the soldier, police officer, hell, the fucking Eagle Scout down the block were a PATRIOT, they'd be with US in the first place against the forces of evil


No thought of this poor schmuck trying to support HIS family. How if he goes against orders, it's HIS family rounded up. Nope, he's a TRAITOR.


So shoot that motherfucker.


But you'd better think about looking through that scope and pulling that trigger now.


And if you CAN'T, you better hope he can't either.
Or we've already lost.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

When it happens

Unless you're here for the first time, you probably already know I'm a prepper. Not a survivalist, per se, but a person who strives to be able to maintain a certain level of civilized existence when winter storms take out the power,  have enough food for awhile if calamity hits to eat well for at least a month or two, that sort of thing. 



Reality just kicked in. Today, my sister-in-law called and told me their house was on fire, and it was a total loss. 



Believe it or not, I have my own go-to guy. My oldest brother, twelve years my senior, can do anything. Period. 

Anytime I find myself lacking in knowledge or materials; electric, heating, A/C, plumbing, masonry, carpentry, welding, or just an HONEST opinion of something, I go to him. 



I learned today that he can't save a lifetime of labor from an electrical short in his dryer.



Now I'm actually afraid. I saw an RV go up in flames in less than twenty minutes that I had been living in here on Turn Here Rose.  Thankfully, I had moved out of it when it burned, and didn't lose too much.  I KNOW the devastation a fire can produce first hand, yet it didn't hit me until today how unprepared I truly am. 



Thankfully his wife's sister lives nearby, and has room to take him and his family in, providing shelter and hearth until he can rebuild his home. But he lost everything. He had a house worth of irreplaceable memories, an attached garage that was the finest workshop I've ever seen, medications, food, clothing, water storage, his fucking LIFE in that house. And now it's gone.  

He was in the barn, and his wife and mentally retarded daughter were away from home, so he at least has one vehicle left and his family is unhurt, but he will have to rebuild 63 years of living with literally only the clothes on his back. 



Mark has needed surgery on both shoulders for years, is in constant pain from having his back broken some years ago, and both he and his wife are in very poor health. I, of course will do anything I can to help, but this level of devastation is hard to come back from for the heartiest of folk. And my brother takes pride to a whole new level when HE has to ask for help. 



I sit here, waiting for my wife to get out of work so we can drive down and see what we CAN do, and realize just how futile my plans relative to being prepared really are.  Five acres of land, and if a fire started on the 980 square feet my trailer sits on, all my work would be lost to the flames. 

Most of the little I have put away for emergencies will be going to my brother now. But as I restock my supplies, I realize I will have to separate this from my home. It truly is a simple and yet very profound adage that tells us not to keep all our eggs in one basket. Eggs, like our lives, are extremely fragile things. It's time I take stock of all I have in this basket, and maybe take stock of my thinking too.



Live well, Dear Readers. But live ready. 

Do men have feelings?

I was watching a 'news' program, you know the ones, nothing but puff pieces interspersed with the briefest of local happenings and here's the weather on the half hour.  (Like you can't look out the window once in awhile...)
So, these two 30-something women in almost but not quite the same yellow dress were 'interviewing' four supposedly well known male Metro-sexual types I'd never heard of, and of course, the life affecting questions of men's "feelings" came up. 
Between puking and laughing, I thought about some of the questions from my point of view. 
Now, I'm not an expert on men's feelings. And ANY man who says he understands women is a liar. But as these questions are apparently critical enough to warrant a half hour segment of what passes for news, I thought I'd post a few of the answers from my point of view. 

Question 1: Why don't men express their feelings? 
MY answer: We do.  Constantly. 
If Ifeel hungry, I express this by getting something to eat. 
If I feel horny, I express this by throwing my wife to the ground wherever we happen to be, and alleviate this feeling. 
If I feel happy, the corners of my mouth move in an upward direction. 
If I feel sad, I grab a beer, and repeat as necessary until the corners of my mouth move in an upward direction.
When I feel mad, I either break something, make something, or take something. 
Which covers hungry, horny, happy, sad, and mad.  

Men HAVE no other 'feelings'.

Question 2: Why do men get MORE upset when women ask them "What's wrong? "
MY answer: As pointed out above, men DO express their feelings. We, at least those of us who ARE men, are taught we are the providers, protectors, comforters, and the rock that stands against the tempest. We can live in a cave and eat raw rat, poop in the woods, wipe with leaves, (or not...) and never even notice when a minor scratch, say, cutting off a foot, accidently happens while chopping down a mighty Redwood.
When our efforts to be all this falls short, we 'feel' inferior to our own ideals. Leave us alone, we'll work out a solution, and life will eventually be better, and golden unicorns will fly out of our asses.
If we need help we'll ask. Just don't hold your breath waiting...

Question 3: What's the secret to a long marriage? 
MY answer: Keep your dick in either your own or your wife's pants, and don't get divorced. 

Question 4: What do you look for in a woman? 
MY answer: Someone who understands that men only HAVE five feelings, will make me a sandwich if I'm hungry, enjoy when I'm horny and can fake an orgasm in the face of even my performance, laugh at what makes me happy, make me a sandwich or give me sex if I'm sad, leaves me to myself if I'm breaking something, making something, or taking something, and Never, under any circumstances asks me "what's wrong?" when golden unicorns suddenly stop flying out of my ass.