Roll ooooon, Big Pachy

Well, have you heard the one that Drudge reported yesterday?

Republicans now outnumber Dems in every, single state in the, “ahem”…union.

Every state!

You know what…this is about a helluva lot more than health care.

In my community (I live in the deep, dark mountains of the deep, dark South – down here,  when we’re born, we come out shooting) – but in my community, they seem to think that over-whelmingly their constiuents support banning concealed carry in our local parks.

Go figure.

I guess our elected officials believe that all the NE liberal Yankees have moved into our sleepy, little town.

Well, wake up geniuses!  We Southern boys are still here, and we are still carrying our guns in spite of your stupid laws.

When the federal government (under Obama, mind you) passes legislation that sais we can carry our guns in the Great Smoky Mountains (protecting ourselves from moonshiners, dope runners and scofflaws making camps up there), and you won’t let us do the same here in our city and county parks – what the hell?

I tell ya what the hell – the officials are a bunch of chicken-shits who think we are going to turn them on them.

Well, guess what geniuses – DO YOUR DAMNED JOBS!

We HIRED you, and yes, we WILL fire you.

Do you actually think your frickin laws mean anything to us now?

You’ve literally pissed right in our faces and down our backs.

The convential wisdom doesn’t lie.

People are turning in droves, back to the conservatives.

They have seen the way you do business.

You are tricky, and you don’t care about your base, you care more about your agenda.

And here is what I believe…brothers and sisters…

I believe it is about more than concealed carry issues in local parks – I believe it is about people being damned tired of having agendas shoved down their throats.

I believe it is about freedom-loving people who are on the verge of literal hand-to-hand in order to get their freedom back.

So pass your damned laws.

Most of us law-abiding citizens are going to ignore the damned things and carry our guns anyhow.

And one more thing -

Don’t tread on a viper that still has its venom – and…its teeth!

The Seeds of Discontent

Ever watch dandelion seeds?

Come on.

Every kid knows what it is like to pick up that white, globular, feathery lollipop on stick and send its seeds (much to the discontent of every lawn meister) scattering throughout creation to as far as the four winds will carry them.

Give it a week or so, and the yellow sentinels begin to multiply like rabbits, along with my blood pressure. They take over the whole neighborhood (if you let them).

Last week, we witnessed what the media and the left are branding as “kooks” get all upset over socialized health care at all these town hall meetings.

Shirts were torn, dignity flew out the window, and all respect for freedom was as shredded as that poor man’s shirt we saw so much of in the press last week.

Normally, I do not take part in civil discourse (of the assembling variety).

The sixties and seventies pretty much turned me off to that.

I hate protesters, loathe protesting, and generally can not stand for the “sit-in” crowd – so I avoid it like the plague that I believe it is.

This week, I feel so motivated and will change that attitude.

I did not participate in the tea parties.

I did not get “up in arms” at the townhall meetings these government officials were holding to measure the pulse of their constituency over socialized health care (as if they had no clue as to what was coming from the polls and conventional wisdom).

I guess they only listen to the polls they choose to listen to.

Well this week, in my little community, there is a sinister, big, bad government that is ready to countermand our State-level regulation that states that we have the right (responsibility, I believe) to carry hand guns (concealed, of course) in our parks (I wonder how many joggers would have been raped in central park were those magnificent New Yorkers and all their vain-glorious laws and rules and regulations able to carry pistolios in their parks?).

When my Grandpa was still living, he revealed something to me that I think no one else knew about him.

On the outside, he appeared the consummate Republican, but behind the scenes was a slightly different story.

He never gave (I don’t think) a red cent to the party.

He told me “the only thing worth contributing to is the NRA.  It is the only thing standing between you, and big government, and even bigger politicians”.

Now, more than ever, I agree with old Grandad.

He had it just about right.

When people get attacked for speaking their hearts, liberty dies.

The politicians are now completely unregulated.  They are running amok, forcing their policies, bright ideas (and the taxation that pays for them) down our gullets.

And so now,  I feel so motivated.

I’ll go to our townhall meeting and I’ll tell those fat-assed, cigar-chomping politicians what I think about them taking away now even our right to protect ourselves in this “so-called” free society.

I’ll tell them what I think about their policies and their procedures and their “due” process (and maybe something about their lousy opinion polls too).

I’ll tell them that they are trying to get away with rape, and with murder (of the worst order), and they wish to take away our guns to ensure that they get away with this menace they represent.

I’ll also tell them that now that I’m a man, I don’t pick up the dandelion seeds and scatter them any more.  Now, I grip them in my fist and throw them in the garbage in my house where they belong.

Landfills would look much better covered in dandelions.

Oh, and did I mention that my lawn is nothing but green, green grass?

That is what happens when you tend to things reckless, radical, deviant and prolific.

Let them get out of control, and they take over everything.

Now there is a place for the little yellow monsters, and I believe they are well-suited to grow in the garbage dump – BUT NOT IN MY BACKYARD !!!

There MUST be something there to protect the individual, and our right to keep and bear arms provides that avenue to the responsible and to the true lovers of freedom, liberty and democracy.

So this week, I will exercise my right to assembly.

I will exercise my right to be heard by my city officials, and the right that guarantees this by backing up my words with unabashed and carnivorous pearly white incisors (or shiny copper jackets, take your pick).

Thank you, Grandad.

Thank you for always standing for what you believed, and instilling that wisdom and courage in me.

And now, on to the next phase of the “Obama-lution”.

May the peace of God be with us as we seek to eradicate the seeds of this vile, soul-less and statist revolution that so defines these scumbag, hippie-pigs from the left.

Unlike Hitler’s Brownshirts and gestapo, you are NOT going to get away with murder in America’s heartland.

Not in the green, green grass of my peaceful little town, anyway (and it’s peaceful because everyone knows that we will take care of business with guns we’ve held in our hands since we were each and all five years of age!).

Me, Hindu and Halston

It was the seventh grade.

I can still see those lamps, hanging from the ceiling.  The room seemed like it was a “squared off” corner of a gymnasium.

The lamps were exactly the kind you’d see in a gym, armored with thin tin and wire cage, with big, yellow bulbs that gave off an almost sickening yellow “haze” that was just enough to read by – maybe a little better than candle light.

The room smelled the whole year of the paint that some school board member bought and paid for so that the teachers, out of work for Summer vacation, could be hired to paint the rooms in the school.  The floors were that putty-colored tile.

And then there was this blackboard that stretched all across the room in front of me, and there was a row of windows behind me.  I sat in the front row of a rank that faced another rank directly across in front of me with a gap running down the middle that reminded me of a barracks, and the drill instructor was a cat named Horny Haskill.

That was what we called him.  I don’t remember his name, and I hate remembering even this, and hate even more conjuring it up from the recesses of my soul for the purpose of this article.  But I think it is worth it, given the current times.

Horny Haskill would stride up and down this center isle, treating us like a bunch of low-lifes (worse than the way Marines are treated in movies).

As the year progressed, the boys in the class began to dwindle.  The subject was Tennessee History (and to this day, I feel cheated for that year – I would have learned a lot more had it not been for the duress I am about to describe).

Horny Haskill would “lean” on the little boys in this class.

“Come join me at my table,” was the call…and,  “Any of you boys want extra credit, you can come to the front and sit at my table”.

To my right, there was a big desk (like those in kindergarten, all oak and big and heavy and flat)…that was the center of his kingdom.  Behind it was the blackboard Haskill always used (so we had to crane our heads to the right to look at him as he lectured, there behind his band of little, brave, boy soldiers).

He also was fond of showing film strips.

I can’t remember if he would sneak boys out of the class room or not – I’ve probably repressed it if he did; I know I stayed the hell away from the bastard.  I can remember him sitting up at the “head” table during the slide shows and movies – God only knows what those young boys might be repressing even to this day.

The hell of it was, after the first little boy went up there, Horney Haskill would give him “special” duties.  He’d get to call the roll, or act as the monitor for the class if Horny Haskill had to go to the bathroom (which he did, quite frequently).

Of course, his “little angel” boys would be just as tyrannical as their master.

Toward the end of the year, there were three of us left among the ranks of the girls in the classroom – me, Hindu and Halston.

I remember one day, Haskill was especially intent on keying on me.  I was almost ready to get my books and go up to the “head” table (as we called it), but a little girl sitting next to me said “Don’t do it, Jim”.

I scooted back in my seat.

I know we were all tempted (we ALL wanted to take home good grades to our parents), and I don’t blame (necessarily) all the other little boys.  The pressure the teacher applied to us was immense, and I was humiliated, tired and demoralized, as I know was everyone else in the class.

If you are wondering what is the purpose of all this story (and you haven’t guessed by now) – I went to a high school that has the distinction of also being the Alma mater of a very prominent United States Senator.

I understand after a golf match yesterday that the scuttlebutt is that this Republican Senator “caved” on the Sotomayor confirmation.

Crossing over to the left, for me, is just like giving in to Horney Haskill – joining his ranks at his “head” table.  You have become a part of the frey…selling your soul to the alternate of goodness, or more simply put, to the devil himself.

It is the liberals who foster this kind of extreme, draconian, morose sort of hell that we were forced to endure there at my school in the seventh grade.

So many are willing to cross over, be it for grades, or for money.

They will sell their souls to the very antithesis of what it is that got them elected to high office in the first place.

They will “cave” in order to perpetuate “the system”.

In essence, they have become their own straw boss, locking themselves in immortal, and inescapable chains.

They have compromised all, and fallen on their swords.

I don’t have a lot good to say about this prominent Senator right now.  Thanks to him, all things conservative have taken yet another, major blow.

But I can tell ya this -

I’m glad that little girl sitting next to me in that class helped me when my courage was faltering…I’m glad I stayed the course, and I thank God above not only for that little girl, but for Hindu and Halston as well.

We held the line that year of hell.  We did not give in.

It is unfortunate that GOP officials do not have the integrity of those twelve-year olds in Haskill’s class.

(The names have been changed to protect the innocent).