Soooo… Made it to Kali safely, late arrival at PP’s house to be met by everybody including Vito…
Let the licking and leaning begin…
And then it was ‘throw the ball, throw the ball’…
And last night it was ‘hey, just because you’re holding Kaya, don’t mean I can’t lick’… I’d turned her around after I finally got her to release the death grip on my moustache and beard. Kid’s got a STRONG grip!!!
And tomorrow will be another ‘exciting’ day… And another pair of pants messed up… Sigh…
‘Somebody’ had WAY too much time on their hands…
‘Twas No Hope Before Christmas:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when in the White House,
Not a creature was spinning, not even Josh Earnest’s mouth;
The pantsuits were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Hillary soon would live there;
Democrats were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of socialism danced in their heads,
And Barack in his mom jeans, and I with arm’s firm,
Had just settled down for my husband’s 3rd term;
When across the country there rose such a clatter,
I assumed it involved that Black Lives Matter;
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Kicked out the shutters, threw out Barry’s stash;
The moon illuminated our eight years of woe,
And exposed hope-and-change lies to our subject’s below;
When, what to my vacationing eyes should appear,
But the host of The Apprentice, looking quite cavalier;
I had seen that comb-over, he was tall and was plump,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. Trump;
More rapid than welfare checks, his people they came,
And he hired them, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Reince, now Ivanka! Now Pencer and Bannon!
On, Mattis, on Sessions! On Kellyanne and Kanye!”
“To the Mexican border! Let’s go build that wall!
Now get to work, get to work, get to work, all!”
As empty promises my husband made that never would fly,
I knew that Obamacare would soon have to die;
The electoral college had spoken, we’d been given the bump,
The free ride was over, thanks a lot, Mr. Trump;
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
My husband’s legacy, gone in a poof!
As I filled with dread, turned my hopeless self around,
Down the chimney St. Trump came with a bound;
He was dressed in a suit, from his head to his feet,
I was expecting a racist, but he was wearing no sheet;
A bunch of red caps he had in a sack,
They said “Make America Great Again,” I felt under attack!
His eyes – how they chilled me, his demeanor how scary,
His skin was so orange, his gaze made we wary;
He was going to erase the last eight years, I swear!
And the one’s who elected him were as white as Pence hair;
My school lunch program would be a thing of the past,
Like the food I made them eat, it would end up in the trash;
He would cancel regulations my husband held dear,
I could feel myself being overcome with fear;
We’d worked so hard to bring America down,
Our hope and change would be killed by this clown;
He represented all the hate for the right that I felt,
And I peed my pants when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye, and a look that said, “You’re effed”
Put me on notice, we had just one month left
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his fracking,
Then he turned to me and said, “Shouldn’t you be packing?”
And laying his finger aside of his nose
Giving me a ‘go to hell’ look, up the chimney he rose;
He sprung to his limo, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a Hillary-seeking missile;
Then I said to Barack, as I climbed back in bed,
“Hopeless Christmas to all, and to all…….whatever.”
Don’t know who gets credit for this, but it’s on the mark!
h/t JP
It’s that time of year, so I’m once again braving the ‘friendly’ skies… Sigh…
Heading out to see the kids and grands for Christmas. Blogging and commenting will be light for the next week, but I’ll get something up when I can.
Please go read the folks on the sidebar, they’re better at this than I am. Just went over 77k words on the rough of Rimworld novel, so I’m getting there…
If you’re taking off early too, I wish you a Merry Christmas or celebration of your choice. 🙂
The Electoral College will be meeting today- It should be interesting to follow this as the day goes on…
And then there is this on the funding/people behind the vote Clinton campaign.
Well, well, well… Look what crawls out of the dark when one follows the money…
The public relations firm working behind the scenes with the faithless electors is rife with ties to prominent Democrats like President Obama and twice-failed presidential candidate Hillary Clinton.
Megaphone Strategies, whose stated mission is to “use PR as a tool to diversify progressive movements,” typically works with progressive causes like Black Lives Matter. The firm is representing the handful of “faithless electors” trying to keep President-elect Donald Trump from winning the Electoral College vote.
The firm was co-founded by Van Jones, the former green jobs czar in the Obama White House who later resigned after it was revealed he signed a statement questioning whether the Bush administration had a role in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. Jones now works as a CNN commentator.
Full article HERE, at The Daily Caller. The more one digs, the more often one finds Soros money behind all these ‘shadow’ organizations that seem to scurry from the light anytime people start digging…
Between Soros and Bloomie, they seem to fund about 90% of the opposition, one way or the other… It will be interesting to see how Trump handles these once he gets in office…
Also, there are these comments, apparently from BO at a speech in Tampa at McDill in early Dec…
Characterizing the military’s mission as a fight against “violent extremism,” Obama insisted that soldiers need to rise up against Trump if they feel he is pushing policies that are ill considered.
Obama told the troops, “each of us has…the universal right to speak your minds and to protest against authority; to live in a society that’s open and free; that can criticize our president without retribution.”
Soooo… Is he telling the troops to violate UCMJ here? Art 88 Contempt toward officials???
Obama went on to insist that a proper U.S. policy against “violent extremism” is a “long term” policy.
“So rather than offer false promises that we can eliminate terrorism by dropping more bombs or deploying more and more troops or fencing ourselves off from the rest of the world,” Obama said, “we have to take a long view of the terrorist threat. And we have to pursue a smart strategy that can be sustained. In the time remaining, let me just suggest what I think should guide this approach.”
Oh, and he apparently also blamed Bush for ISIS/ISIL… sigh…
ONE THE HARD WAY – Dan Zoernig
Christmas Day, 1941. American Volunteer Group Flight Leader Parker Dupouy finds his guns jammed during combat high over the Gulf of Martaban. Determined to bring down his adversary, he rams the Hayabusa Oscar of Lt. Hiroshi Okuyama of the JAAF 64th Sentai. Though he lost four feet of his wingtip and his entire aileron, Dupouy made it back to his base to fight another day. Lt. Okuyama’s aircraft, however, broke up in flight and carried him to his death. Dupouy went on to score 6.5 victories in the air before war’s end.
Below you ‘ll find the NRA’s statement on Secretary Designate Zinke, who has been chosen to head the Department of the Interior under the Trump administration. Zinke is a retired SEAL, so he ‘does’ have an affinity for the outdoors and for shooting. 🙂
Considering what’s been going on with funding for new ranges, I’m liking his selection!
| NRA Statement on Nomination of Ryan Zinke to Secretary of the Interior | |
| Fairfax, Va.— Chris W. Cox, executive director of the National Rifle Association’s Institute for Legislative Action, issued the following statement on the nomination of Congressman Ryan Zinke to be the Secretary of the Interior:“On behalf of our 5 million members, we commend President-Elect Donald Trump for nominating Congressman Ryan Zinke of Montana to be our next Secretary of the Interior,” said Chris W. Cox, executive director of the National Rifle Association’s Institute for Legislative Action. “The sportsmen and women of this nation have long waited for an Interior Secretary who understands the need to preserve America’s outdoor heritage for generations to come. Ryan Zinke will champion those traditions with the devotion of a true outdoorsman while serving as our next Secretary of the Interior.” |
h/t Lars/NRA Media
Thank you to all who’ve parted with their hard earned money to buy the series. I’m truly humbled and appreciative! I’m up to 45 reviews on The Grey Man- Partners, still looking to get over that magic 50 reviews hump. Once that happens, then Amazon starts pushing it a bit more. Vignettes is over the 100 mark, Payback is at 89, and Changes is at 68. 100 reviews is the next milestone, but I’m happy to have the reviews I have.
It seems that the ‘average’ of reviews vs readers is in the 4-6% range, which is about what is expected. Having said that, I’d still like to get over the 50 reviews hump with Partners, so consider this a bleg… 🙂
In other news, thanks to those readers who’ve whined, threatened, sent harassing emails, expressed interest, I’ve started working on the fifth book in the three book Grey Man series. It’s WAY early yet, but here’s a tease… They usual caveats apply…
Aaron came out of the bedroom stretching his neck in the unaccustomed suit and tie. As he walked into the kitchen, the old man asked, “What the hell are you doing?”
Aaron stopped short, “Uh, I’ve got to go to court today, I’m testifying. Remember I told you last night.”
“Not dressed like that you aren’t. Get that damn monkey suit off. Jeans and a pressed white shirt. BBQ belt, holster and gun. Get your good Silverbelly. Now vamoose.”
Aaron said, “Can I at least get a cup of coffee first?”
The old man chuckled, “I guess so. And I guess we need to have a chat about dressing for court.”
Fifteen minutes later, Aaron was back, and the old man looked him up and down critically, “Need to run a brush over the boots. A cowboy may only have one pair of boots, and they may be run down, but he’ll do his damnest to put a shine on them.”
Aaron retreated once again, and ten more minutes went by before he reappeared, “How’s this,” he asked.
“That’ll do,” the old man replied. “Now sit down and drink your coffee.”
Aaron filled his cup and took a seat at the table as Jesse came in drowsily carrying Kaya in her arms. Jesse plopped her in the old man’s arms and mumbled as she headed for the coffee pot. Aaron asked, “Why the jeans? When we went through testifying class in the academy, they specified being well dressed and professional looking. To me, that’s a suit.”
The old man sighed, “That’s typical of the HPD mentality. They aren’t in cow country. They’re in an urban environment. Hell, Austin and Dallas are the same way, but anywhere else in Texas, you go in wearing a suit and the jury is gonna be against you.”
Jesse flopped down across from Aaron, “Banker’s, right Papa?”
“Yep, anybody that looks like a banker is gonna remind those jurors of the damn bankers that took their pappy or grandpappy’s land back in the day. That is the wrong foot to get off on with any jury.”
“What about the lawyers?”
The old man chuckled, “Always wanted to get defense lawyers that dressed like that. Guaranteed the jury would hate them for cross-examining us poor ol’ hardworking deputies.”
Aaron said, “But Attorney Randall dresses well, right?”
The old man laughed this time, “Nan Randall dresses only well enough to be seen as a hard working county attorney. She doesn’t wear fancy dresses here, matter of fact, she gets them off the rack at the local department store. That way, if there are women on the jury, they’ll recognize that dress. Hell, they might even have that dress in their closet. Makes ‘em comfortable with her, knowing she’s not putting on airs.”
“Jeezus… What else did I get taught that was wrong?”
Jesse patted his hand and laughed, “Probably half the stuff. Urban versus rural. HPD does all urban, leaving us poor rural deputies to learn the hard way.”
Jace wandered into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, “Daddy you go work?”
Aaron tousled his hair, “Yes, Jace. Daddy is going to work.”
Jace ran his hand over the butt of the 1911 on Aaron’s belt, “Daddy wearing pretty gun today.”
The old man coughed to cover a laugh as Jesse said, “Jace, come here. You want breakfast? And what do you do if you see a gun laying out?”
Jace smiled, “No touch, tell a big person. Can I have cereal? With choco… Chocolate milk? Please?”
Jesse said, “That’s right. No touch and tell an adult. Are guns in this house loaded,” she asked as she got up to fix him a bowl of cereal.
Jace nodded solemnly, “Guns are always loaded. Especially the ones hanging on the wall. They make a loud noise!”
Jesse smiled at him, “Yes they do, don’t they! What are you supposed to do before you eat?”
Jace stood hands on hips, prompting another cough from the old man and a chuckle from Aaron, “Oh, I gotta feed Yogi and Boo Boo!” He scrambled across the kitchen, then came back for the bowls, carrying them to the dog food bin by the back door, closely followed by the dogs.
Filling them carefully, he tried to carry both of them back, but finally carried one at a time, sitting them in place next to the water dishes as the dogs whined, “Eat doggies,” Jace said proudly.
Aaron smiled at him, “Good job buddy!” Now you can eat too!”
Kaya took that as a challenge to start crying, prompting the old man to look at her, “Hey now, I’m not your mommy. You want food, go talk to her.” He set her down at watched her toddle toward Jesse, “Incoming.”
Jessie looked down, “Okay baby, give me a couple of minutes.” Kaya reached Jesse and started trying to climb her sweatpants, almost pulling them off. Jesse swatted her lightly, “Hey, mommy is not doing the strip tease here. Aaron?”
Aaron picked up Kaya, planted her in her high chair and thought, I wonder how old this high chair is? I know Jesse used it, I wonder if it was John’s too. There are a lot of pieces of furniture in these houses that are at least a hundred years old. Real wood and handmade. Hell, other than the appliances, I think the newest things in here are our bedroom suite.
With the kids fed, Jesse took them back to their room to get them dressed as Aaron got up, “Time to go do battle.”
He heard a whistle as the old man started to answer, turned and saw Matt come in the back door, “Don’t you look purty today! All dressed up and no place to go?”
Aaron replied, “Gotta go over to Alpine, testifying on that chase that started just south of town and ended up crashing at sixty-seven and ninety.”
The old man chimed in, “Remember, follow Clay’s advice, make sure you get with him before you go in. They’ll call you first, since you initiated it. Just give them the facts as you knew them at the time. Do not add any of the after the fact, at that point you were just an assist.”
Aaron nodded, “I’ll call Clay as soon as I get close to Alpine.” Aaron headed for the door, “Y’all have fun.”
Jesse came back with the kids dressed to find the old man and Matt poring over a topo map of the ranch, with Matt flipping an acetate overlay up and down, “See, if we do that, it’s six miles to eleven seventy-six, so we’re good in that direction.”
The old man pointed to a couple of tracks that ran between Hwy 18 and 1178, “What about these?”
I’ve talked to Halverson and Zapata, they don’t use them, matter of fact,” tracing one of the tracks, “Halverson has blocked this one at his ranch entrance.”
Jesse asked curiously, ‘What are y’all planning?”
Matt replied, “We’re looking at putting in a range on the south forty. We can get all the way out to a thousand yards right here,” pointing at the acrylic overlay, “It’s thirteen hundred, almost fourteen hundred yards deep. Doesn’t impact any wells or fields that are in use for anything. It’s pretty much mesquite, which needs to be grubbed out anyway.”
The old man nodded, “Okay, I’ll buy that. What else are you planning?”
Matt pulled another sheet from under the topo map pointing, “Well, we figured we could do a pistol range here, a hundred yard berm here, three hundred here, six hundred out here and a thousand all the way at the end.”
The old man shrugged, “Okay, if that’s what y’all want, go ahead.”
***
Aaron pulled into the diner in Alpine, saw Clay Boone’s unmarked car and parked next to it. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he walked into the diner and saw Clay waving from a booth at the back of the diner. “Morning, Ranger. Mr. Cronin said to make sure I talked to you.”
Clay stuck out a hand, “Sit, Aaron, sit. Yeah, just want to make sure you know what to expect this morning. Coffee?”
Aaron nodded and Clay waved his coffee cup at the waitress and pointed to Aaron, “Angie, another one please.”
Aaron slid into the booth and chuckled, “Normally, I try to sit facing the door, but I guess I’m out ranked aren’t I?”
Clay laughed, “Yep, John is worse than I am about it. Now the court down here is basically the same as Fort Stockton, but it’s Judge Cameron down here. He’s by the book, doesn’t like a bunch of BS in his courtroom and he’s already pissed off at this case and the defendant, not that he’ll ever admit that, but I’ve known him for thirty years. The change of venue motion didn’t go over well, nor did that highfalutin’ lawyer from Houston.”
Angie delivered Aaron’s coffee and refilled Clay’s, “Honey you want anything to eat?”
“No, ma’am. I had breakfast this morning, just coffee.”
She smiled and sauntered back to the counter, pouring refills as she went. Clay detailed the expectations for the trial, including the fact that even though the chase had started in Pecos County, it ended in Brewster County with the perp hitting the Brewster County patrol car, then rolling his brand new Challenger three times out in the field. He cautioned Aaron about letting the defense attorney try to get Aaron to say anything about what happened after the wreck, including the drugs Deputy Ortiz had found after Aaron called for backup after seeing the package thrown from the Challenger. Luckily, it had been caught on video with a road sign in the video allowing pinpointing exactly where it had been thrown out.
Clay stopped and sipped his coffee and Aaron asked, “So just to confirm, all I talk to is start of the pursuit to the wreck, nothing after. I know when they deposed me they wanted a copy of my wheel book, but they only got the pages with the notes for this chase, broken down by timeline.”
Clay nodded, “Remember to ask for a copy of your deposition to refer to. Don’t let them catch you out. I’ll guarantee they’re going to try.” Clay looked at his watch, “We better go. Ain’t no point in being late and pissing the judge off any more than he already is. I got the coffee, you get the tip.”
They got up and Aaron dropped two dollars on the table, tipping his hat to Angie as the headed for the door.
***
Thirty minutes into his testimony and cross examination, Mr. Klapp, the prosecutor wearily got up, “Objection again your honor, Deputy Miller was not involved in the subsequent arrest of Mr. Holmes that was conducted by Brewster County personnel.”
Judge Cameron rapped his gavel, “Sustained. Mr. Maginault, I’ve told you three times to keep your questioning relevant. Am I not getting through to you?”
Maginault, the lawyer hired by Holmes parents, didn’t even look at the judge, “No further questions.” He sat carefully back down, straightening his Armani jacket and smoothing his styled hair in what Aaron had determined was a nervous tic.
“Prosecution calls Deputy Grayson.”
Aaron returned to his seat in the back of the courtroom, next to Sheriff Rodriquez as they waited for Deputy Ortiz and Ranger Boone to testify. The sheriff gave him a thumbs up and leaned over, “Fun ain’t it, Amigo.”
Aaron said softly, “Yeah, ‘bout as much fun as a surprise inspection in the Corps. Glad that’s over.” He zoned out on Grayson’s testimony, just remembering the flashing blue and red lights of the roadblock, the Challenger’s frantic braking, hitting the front of the cruiser and rolling out into the field.
How far we’ve come… In such a few short years…
My mother and dad had very distinct memories of each of those… Kitty Hawk, Dec 7th and Sputnik.
And they keep changing the names too… sigh
I wonder who had that thing as a doorstop???
And the best news of all…
As we come to the ‘Christmas season’, our thoughts turn to giving…
I have had ENOUGH!!!! We’ll never help anyone again……EVER!! Either I’m too kindhearted, too stupid, or too gullible!! Out of the kindness of our hearts, and because it was so cold out yesterday, we took a man into our home. We felt so sorry for him. Poor thing was trembling out in the cold, but this morning he just vanished. Not a word…not even “goodbye” or “thank you” for sheltering him!! The last straw?!?! When I realized he had peed all over the living room floor!!! That’s the “thank you” I get for being good to people?!?!?!
So, warning my friends to watch out for this man! He is heavy set, and he’s wearing nothing but a scarf and a black hat. He has a nose that looks like a carrot, two black eyes, and his arms are so skinny they look like sticks!!! Don’t bring him into your house!! What a huge mess he made on our floor!!!
All joking aside, this IS the time to remember those who have less than we do…
Two organizations I support and would ask that you support, if able, are the Salvation Army,
and Toys for Tots, run by the Marine Corps Reserve.
Both these organizations are very well rated, consistently support those in need, especially in the Christmas Season. The Red Kettles are in pretty much every major shopping center, grocery stores, etc.
The Toys for Tots can be ‘interesting’ as we learned last year. Check your local area from the home page above to find donation drop off points.
Thanks in advance, and may your donations make a Merry Christmas for someone somewhere…
Huh, seems like Algore and his bunch have dropped off the media’s go to list, maybe it’s ‘fake news’???
Or maybe it’s the fact that the weather is cold now (calling for ‘chilling’ cold in the minus numbers already), plus the heavy storms that have rolled through already this year.
Algore talked a good game, made millions off the sheeple and apparently had one sit down with Trump. No details released…
But the real climatologists are coming back to life now that Trump is going to be the next president.
This article from National Review last year was one of many raising questions, HERE.
What seems to be happening now, at least with the folks I’ve talked to, is the modelers are scuttling off into the corners of the debate, mumbling about error bars, actual raw data not matching their ‘models’ and data ‘skew’…
John Casey’s case about the sun actually playing a major part in the global heat/cool cycle is another one that people are finally studying too, HERE. Although the skeptics claim it’s not possible…
And then there’s THIS from PSI…
Seems that ‘somebody(s)’ have or had skewed raw data AHEAD of modeling runs to make it match an ‘expected’ outcome to promote the AGW agenda.
YMMV, etc…
But this Australian bush poem by John O’Brien seems to cover all the bases.
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
In accents most forlorn,
Outside the church, ere Mass began,
One frosty Sunday morn.
The congregation stood about,
Coat-collars to the ears,
And talked of stock, and crops, and drought,
As it had done for years.
“It’s looking crook,” said Daniel Croke;
“Bedad, it’s cruke, me lad,
For never since the banks went broke
Has seasons been so bad.”
“It’s dry, all right,” said young O’Neil,
With which astute remark
He squatted down upon his heel
And chewed a piece of bark.
And so around the chorus ran
“It’s keepin’ dry, no doubt.”
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“Before the year is out.”
“The crops are done; ye’ll have your work
To save one bag of grain;
From here way out to Back-o’-Bourke
They’re singin’ out for rain.
“They’re singin’ out for rain,” he said,
“And all the tanks are dry.”
The congregation scratched its head,
And gazed around the sky.
“There won’t be grass, in any case,
Enough to feed an ass;
There’s not a blade on Casey’s place
As I came down to Mass.”
“If rain don’t come this month,” said Dan,
And cleared his throat to speak –
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“If rain don’t come this week.”
A heavy silence seemed to steal
On all at this remark;
And each man squatted on his heel,
And chewed a piece of bark.
“We want an inch of rain, we do,”
O’Neil observed at last;
But Croke “maintained” we wanted two
To put the danger past.
“If we don’t get three inches, man,
Or four to break this drought,
We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“Before the year is out.”
In God’s good time down came the rain;
And all the afternoon
On iron roof and window-pane
It drummed a homely tune.
And through the night it pattered still,
And lightsome, gladsome elves
On dripping spout and window-sill
Kept talking to themselves.
It pelted, pelted all day long,
A-singing at its work,
Till every heart took up the song
Way out to Back-o’-Bourke.
And every creek a banker ran,
And dams filled overtop;
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“If this rain doesn’t stop.”
And stop it did, in God’s good time;
And spring came in to fold
A mantle o’er the hills sublime
Of green and pink and gold.
And days went by on dancing feet,
With harvest-hopes immense,
And laughing eyes beheld the wheat
Nid-nodding o’er the fence.
And, oh, the smiles on every face,
As happy lad and lass
Through grass knee-deep on Casey’s place
Went riding down to Mass.
While round the church in clothes genteel
Discoursed the men of mark,
And each man squatted on his heel,
And chewed his piece of bark.
“There’ll be bush-fires for sure, me man,
There will, without a doubt;
We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“Before the year is out.”