Feel-Good Story Of The Day

Finally back home. I'll have a full report in the next day or two.

Before the endless waves of depressing news stories reclaims me (I just went 10 days without regular access to TV, newspapers, or the Internet - it was great!) I wanted to pass on this feel-good story. Too bad more like this aren't published.

13 Marines get impromptu Chicago airport welcome

It didn't matter that the 13 Marines on their way home from Afghanistan had been fighting in a war that no longer dominates the news or that they were stopping only for a short time in Chicago before flying to San Diego.

When USO volunteer John Colas heard with just an hour's notice that the Marines' plane was bearing down on Chicago's O'Hare International Airport, he and others scrambled to make sure they got a hero's welcome.

"We want these kids coming home to realize that they haven't been forgotten," said Colas, a 74-year-old former Marine.

The reception started with a water salute in which their plane taxied underneath an arch of water from fire truck hoses.

The Marines, who had spent the better part of five days getting on and off planes to get home from the other side of the world, were then met by a small crowd of cheering USO volunteers, firefighters, police officers and airport workers as they walked into the terminal.

A short time later, boarding another jet for San Diego, the Marines learned that American Airlines — which has a policy to upgrade servicemen and women in uniform whenever possible — had six empty seats in first class for the group.

That gesture was followed by seven first-class passengers who jumped out of their seats for the other Marines so they could sit together.

The welcome home started with a phone call. Stephanie Hare, a native of Illinois who now works in England, called the USO at O'Hare and explained that her fiance, Rajan, who had served seven months in Afghanistan, was with a dozen other Marines on a plane bound for Chicago from Baltimore.

"I just thought if they could get them some Chicago pizza, champagne or something, that would mean a lot," she said.

On the other end of the line was Colas, whose duties include welcoming servicemen and women.

He told Hare he'd try to do something in the hour or so before the flight landed. But Colas cautioned that while volunteers make an effort to welcome military personnel whenever they come through the airport, he wasn't sure he could pull anything off in such a short time.

Nevertheless, he got on the phone with the police and fire departments, the airlines and anyone else he could think of.

"There must have been 15 Chicago firemen and an equal number of Chicago police and they formed a corridor for the Marines when they got off the airplane," he said.

Rajan said the Marines didn't know what to make of it, starting with the slightly unnerving experience of looking out a plane window to see a fire truck.

"For a second, we were like, 'Are we in trouble?'" he said.

After they realized the reception was for them, the Marines soaked in the scene, even as they said police officers hustled them off to another gate so they'd make their flight to San Diego.

"They were just so thankful — very, very appreciative," said Linda Kozma, an American Airlines employee who helps military personnel flying in and out of O'Hare.

Hare didn't know about any of it until she woke up Tuesday and heard Rajan relating the whole story in a voice mail.

"I just thought it was really beautiful," she said.

So did I...

The Great Hunting Road Trip - A Slight Detour

The original plan was for me to get home today. However, plans changed...

Day Ten

My wife and I talked last night. As anxious as she is for me to get home (*wink wink*), she suggested that it might be a good idea for me to swing by our weekend lakehouse and winterize it while I'm in the neighborhood.

Makes sense. It's just a little bit out of my way - adds about 90 miles to the overall trip of around 1400 miles (one way). So I'm at the lakehouse tonight. Tomorrow I'll wrap the pipes, check out the furnace and turn it on, etc. etc. etc.

No big deal. It needed to be done anyway. Besides, it was a very pleasant evening here on Lake Buchanan. A front blew through earlier today, clearing the air and providing one of those beautiful Central Texas sunsets that make life here such a joy.

The eagerly-looked-forward-to reunion of husband and wife will just have to wait one more day. What's that old saying - anticipation heightens the pleasure...?

To make the occasion extra-special, I brought my wife a romantic souvenir from Wyoming.

 

I know what you're thinking: kind of tacky, right? But there's a method to my madness. The pair I bought is size Small. My wife hasn't worn a Small since 6th grade, but she'll be so pleased that I think she's that size that her desire to pleasure me will know no bounds.

I haven't been married three times without learning something about women.

On another note, I drove through the West Texas wind farms today. It's a very eerie feeling, driving amongst those giant turbines that tower over you, silently and relentlessly turning over and over and over... They seem so out of place - advanced mechanisms dominating the ancient West Texas landscape. It's like aliens dropped down from the sky and installed thousands of these extraterrestrial machines that are just lurking in our midst, waiting for the signal to come to life and destroy us.

Nah, I'm letting my imagination run wild. Right...?

H/T xkcd

Remember the old Julio Iglesias song "To All The Girls I've Loved Before?"


Yeah, I never could stand it either.

Anyway, I thought of that song when I ran across this:

THIS IS A FRIGHTENING STATISTIC, ONE OF THE MOST WORRISOME IN YEARS.

        25% of women in this country are on medication for mental illness.

        That's scary..........  It means 75% are running around untreated!

Dedicated to all my ex-wives...

The Great Hunting Trip - Almost Home

These mornings are getting old. Wake-up temperatures around 20, blustery winds, and snow flurries. Fortunately, today should be the last one. I'm now in The Great State Of Texas.

Day Nine

I left Colorado Springs this a.m dodging sleet and snow. As I worked my way south the precipitation turned into rain, which was all right with me. My truck doesn't slip and slide around in rain like it does in frozen H2O.

Another issue with driving through the Colorado mountain passes is the wind. I was headed south and the wind was howling in from the west. I drove about 100 miles with the steering wheel cranked 1/8th of a turn to the right just to stay straight.

Others weren't so fortunate. I passed a truck towing a U-Haul trailer that was in the ditch by the side of the road. The truck was upright, but the trailer was on its side, which makes me think that the trailer was blown over by a strong gust of wind.

In any event, about four hours after I left Colorado Springs I crossed the Texas state line. Immediately the sun became brighter, the women prettier, the speed limits higher, the gas prices lower, and the beer colder. Coincidence? I think not...

Another travel note of interest is that once I was in Texas I began to see green foliage. In Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico all the grass and brush was brown, and what few trees there were were either barren or dropping leaves. In Texas the grass was green, the brush was green (granted, it was cedar, prickly pear cactus, or agarita, but still...), and many of the trees were still green.

Also noteworthy of my entrance into God's Country was that I was finally able to turn off my heater for the first time in over a week in the panhandle town of Dumas TX.

Speaking of Dumas, a little bit south of the town the road went over a slight rise. I was able to see the Amarillo skyline (such as it is) from that point. Dumas is approximately 30 miles northwest of Amarillo, so that should give you some idea of how flat the Texas panhandle is.

An additional indicator of the Texas panhandle's flatness is a story an old friend of mine once told me. He was a psychologist who lived in Lubbock TX. He had a patient who was afraid of heights. Part of the treatment was to accompany the patient to a high point to show him that nothing bad would happen. The kicker is that the highest point ion the Lubbock area was a freeway overpass. So my friend and his patient would spend an hour driving on the Lubbock loop and pulling over on the overpasses. Goodness knows what would happen to that guy if he ever went somewhere with true elevation changes.

Anyway, I'm almost home. I've had a great time on this trip, but I'm ready for it to end.

Too Good Not To Repost

After spending the last several days among people in Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico, and Texas, this image rang very true.

H/T OldNFO

The Great Hunting Road Trip - Just In Time

Day Eight

Began retracing my steps today, from Wyoming to home in Texas. I'm leaving just in time. The forecast low at the ranch for tonight is 15 degrees with a chance of snow. The cabin I stayed in was heated by a little gas fireplace. It keep the interior tolerable, but not really warm. I wore two layers inside while I was there. I don't think the heater would do much good with temps in the teens.

It was pretty cold all day today. I don't think the temperature ever got out of the 30s. I started the day out with ice lining the bed of the truck. When I checked into the hotel tonight most of it was still there.

Speaking of ice, the roads were slushy and icy in northern Wyoming. The plows were out early, but there were still icy patches for a few hundred miles. About 1 1/2 hours after I left I was in that interstate highway zone. Traffic was extremely light. There was a car about a mile in front of me, and another one about a mile behind. I was cruising on autopilot, my mind wandering, when I drove under an overpass. It was iced over under there in the shade. In the blink of an eye I was doing 75 MPH sideways. That snapped me back to reality in a great big hurry. Fortunately, like I said, there wasn't another vehicle anywhere near. But I can guarantee after that I was alert and very careful around overpasses and bridges.

It looks like things will be a little warmer as I continue south. There's a chance of rain, but I can handle that a lot better than snow and ice.

I'm in Colorado Springs tonight. Drove 510 miles today in 8 hours driving time for an average speed of 64 MPH. It would have been higher, except for the traffic and construction in the Ft. Collins -> Denver -> Colorado Springs stretch.

Pet Peeve of the day: Colorado drivers. They're worse than Houston drivers. Besides their general disregard for traffic laws and other drivers, what makes them worse is the number of smug, self-righteous ponytailed hippies driving Prius' with treehugger bumper stickers (example: Save the planet. Ride a bike).

Sign of the day - seen on an oilfield services truck: "Your hole is our goal."

Tomorrow's objective: Lubbock, Texas. I don't want to say Lubbock is a little behind the times, but until May 2009 Lubbock County allowed "package" sales of alcohol (sales of bottled liquor from liquor stores), but not "by the drink sales." At the same time, inside the Lubbock city limits, the situation was reversed, with restaurants and bars able to serve alcohol, but liquor stores forbidden. In May 2009 voters approved changes in those laws to permit the sale of both packaged alcohol and liquor by the drink in both the county and the city.

On the plus side, Lubbock has produced an impressive number of musicians, including Buddy Holly, Delbert McClinton, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Butch Hancock, Joe Ely, Mac Davis (meh), Lloyd Maines, Jay Boy Adams, and Pat Green. So it's not a total loss.

The time change has got me all out of sync, so I'm going to call it a night. The God Lord willing, tomorrow I'll be back in God's Country.

The Great Hunting Road Trip - The Next Day

Even though I've filled my tags, I didn't come all this way to sit around.  A few of the other hunters here have elk tags. I decided to tag along with them this morning. It didn't take long to regret that decision.

Day Seven

First of all, elk hunting starts early. Elk hang out in the tall timber up in the mountains. In order to get there in time for shooting light we left one hour before sunrise. Since last night included a few celebratory toasts in honor of my wall-hanger buck, getting out of my nice comfortable bed this morning was a little tough.

Another factor of the elk's habitat preference is the mode of transportation. Trucks can't get into the timberlands, so we use horses. One advantage of horses is that they can go where trucks can't which means less walking - or so I thought. More on that later. My trusty steed was Two Bits (note the brand on his hip).

One advantage trucks have over horses, however, is that trucks are much, much warmer. You may have noticed that Two Bits is standing in the snow. When we left the corral it was dark, the wind was howling, the snow was pelting us, and the temperature was 21 degrees. The pictures below show, in succession, frozen water coming out of a roof gutter downspout, the snug little cabin I'm staying in before the snow, and after.

Here's what my truck looked like when we got back. Fortunately, my brand new snow and ice scraper cleared it off in no time.

Okay, back to this morning's elk hunt. We rode for about an hour, then stopped and glassed for elk. Saw several bulls right away. We immediately dismounted and began stalking them on foot. Closed the distance to about 150 yards. The guy who had the first shot selected his target - a nice bull standing broadside and unsuspecting - settled into shooting position, squeezed the trigger ... and flat out missed!

The bulls took off over the skyline. After a brief counsel we decided to follow them, hoping that they would settle down in the next little valley. Of course, it was about half a mile to that ridge ... uphill ... in the snow. This was antelope hunting all over again, except the animals were bigger and the mountains were steeper - much steeper. Plus we were at somewhere between 5500 - 6000 feet of altitude. Now I consider myself in pretty good shape for an overweight 61-year-old who eats and drinks too much and doesn't exercise enough, but the combination of steep slopes and thin air was kicking my ass. I wasn't the only one doing a steam engine imitation, however. Everyone else was gasping for air like they'd just finished running a marathon, except for our guide. He was doing an excellent mountain goat imitation, bounding up ahead then hurrying back to tell us "Just a few more steps."

Yeah, right...

Of course we never caught a glimpse of those elk again. Or any others, for that matter. So after a couple of hours of mountain climbing we decided to go back to where we'd left our horse ... about a mile back ... uphill again (how does that work?) ... in the snow. Sigh...

We finally got back about four hours after we left - wet, cold, tired, and hungry. Thank goodness lunch was ready. Hot chicken and dumplings! It was manna from heaven. It restored enough of my strength that I was able to totter back to my cabin and take a nap.

I hit the road tomorrow for the return trip home. The forecast for Wyoming and Colorado calls for snow and freezing temperatures, so the trip could be quite an adventure. Everything I know about driving on snow and ice I learned in Texas: when in doubt, step on the gas.

The adventure continues...

The Great Hunting Road Trip - Success Edition

The title gives it away. After a day and a half of frustration, things fell into place.

Day Five

Today started like yesterday - chasing those damn antelope all over Hell and back. The locals call them "speed goats" for a reason. Their natural defense mechanisms are exceptionally keen eyesight, speed, and a predilection for hanging out in the middle of wide open spaces ... emphasis on the "wide" and "open."

We started off the morning by spotting a good sized herd of 20 or so in the middle of a field that had to be at least one mile by one mile. It was, however, criss-crossed by several ravines and draws. So the game plan was to slip into one of the draws and sneak into shooting distance. Off we went.

It was a replay of yesterday. Muddy, sloppy footing - and uphill, of course. When we got to what we thought was a good spot we climbed (staggered) up the side of the ravine. Easing over the top we saw the herd moseying over the next ridge. We repeated this process three more times before we gave up and trudged back to the truck, which by this time was about two miles away. That futile exercise took over two hours.

After chugging down several bottles of water and gobbling an energy bar, we headed off to another field. There we spotted a small group on a slope about 1000 yards away. We tried the same tactic that failed miserably before (who says humans learn from their mistakes). We dropped down behind a ridge, made a 45 minute trek to a little hillock near where they were, and slithered our way to the top. I stuck my head over the edge and was almost face to face with an antelope buck bedded down on the reverse side of the hill. I don't know who was more shocked - me or him. I do know who reacted faster. He was on his feet and hauling ass away before I finished exclaiming "Oh Shit!"

To make matters even more confused, five other bucks jumped up and started dashing around. After I got over the initial shock I tried to do a quick assessment and pick out a good one, but it was utter chaos. They finally all started running in the same direction, curving around me to my left. However, my buddy was behind me to my left. I didn't want to risk a snap shot while turning, afraid my twisting to the left would bring the muzzle across him, so I let them go.

My 'friend' consoled my with the comment that I probably would have missed the shot anyway. Thanks a lot...

At that point we were tired, hungry, and frustrated, so we headed back to HQ for lunch. As luck would have it, we again ran into the first group we saw. We decided to give it one more try. This time, however, we changed tactics. We drove into the field, but when we dropped below their line of sight my friend stopped the truck and I slipped out. He then drove off parallel to them. While they were watching him I pulled a Sneaky Pete on them. I got within 100 yards before a doe busted me. There was no rest available, and I couldn't go prone because of the tall grass, so I had to shoot offhand. I normally try to avoid that because it's difficult to be accurate from that position, but at this point I was determined to get a shot off. I zeroed in on a nice buck and squeezed one off. It was like shooting birds - pick your target, swing through, and fire as the muzzle passes the front of the target. I was a little off - spined him midway back. That anchored him, and I moved in and put him down.

Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me. We couldn't get the truck to him because of the terrain, so we drove back to the ranch and got an ATV. My friend went back to get the antelope while I cleaned up. When I went to the skinning shed with my camera he had already caped and skinned the buck. So no pictures (sorry, Bear).

Back out in the fields that afternoon looking for whitetails. We had word about a couple of good bucks hanging out near a feeder ditch into a small creek. Sat there from mid-afternoon until an hour or so before sundown. Then I decided to stalk along the ditch. Spent another hour creeping through the brush. Saw plenty of doe, but no bucks. Oh well, the day was already a success - and I was plumb tuckered out. Dinner, drinks, and bed - the hunting version of shampoo, rinse, repeat.

Day Six

Headed out before sunup. Got into position near the ditch and creek we sat on last night. Waited until about an hour after sunup, then repeated the ditch stalk from last night. This time I crossed the ditch and followed some brush on the other side. After just a few minutes I spotted a nice buck. While I was watching him and maneuvering into a shooting position another buck came up behind him. For a little while it looked like a two-headed deer. They were lined up nose to tail facing me. I saw one body, one head turned to the left, and the other turned to the right. The deer in the back was very impressive, but he stayed behind the first one. They finally separated, about the same time they spotted us.

Just like yesterday's antelope, I had to decide between an offhand shot at a moving target, or not shooting. The difference was the deer was a bigger target and wasn't moving as fast. I was also a little more confident, since I made the same shot yesterday. In a case of deja vu I hit the deer in the spine with my first shot and then finished him off with a second.

Usually a deer shrinks on the ground as you get closer to him. This was one of those special cases where the deer grows as you approach him. He is easily the best one I've ever taken. The folks at the ranch say he's the biggest one ever shot there. The picture below really doesn't do him justice. He's a big-bodied 5x6, with much more mass than shows up in the photo.

The rest of the morning was spent caping and skinning him. We then took him and yesterday's antelope to the taxidermist. On the way back to the ranch we stopped for a celebratory beer. It was 11:30 in the morning, but I justified it by figuring that was 12:30 p.m. back home, so it was okay. Then a couple of people next to us at the bar ordered vodka and tonics. That made us feel even better, since serious drinkers drink hard liquor in the morning. We were only having beer, so we felt better about it.

Then it was back to the ranch to clean up, have some lunch, take a little nap, and then go out to harass all the other lessor hunters who still hadn't filled their tags.

Life is good...

The Great Hunting Road Trip Update

Greetings from beautiful Wolf, Wyoming, where the temperature last night was a balmy 24 degrees. Sorry for skipping a day, but between getting here, getting settled, and getting the first day of hunting in I've been a little busy. Plus Internet access here is sketchy at best. They use a satellite service provider, and the signal gets blocked whenever it's cloudy. Even when it works speeds are pretty slow. So don't expect much over the next few days. Now on with the update!

Day Three

I was a Boy Scout. I have taken their "Be Prepared" motto to heart. Before I left on The Great Hunting Road Trip I had my truck checked out and serviced. I packed for every eventuality. In case of a breakdown I have tools, flares, flashlights and lanterns, a tow strap, two cans of Fix-A-Flat, my cell phone, and a car recharger for it. In case a blizzard traps me on the road I have emergency rations, plenty of bottled water, warm clothes, and a sleeping bag. I have clothes for all types of weather; shorts and tee shirts for warm weather, all sorts of cold weather clothing, even rain gear. I have heavy leather hiking boots, lightweight synthetic hiking boots, cowboys boots, tennis shoes, and flip-flops. I have books, CDs, MP3 music files, videos, a laptop, a tablet, and a smart phone. I was convinced I was prepared for anything.

Except this.

<imagine picture of snow and ice covered truck here. I can't get Blogger to cooperate.>

This is what my truck looked like the morning I left Cheyenne Wyoming. Under all that pretty fluffy snow is about 1/2" of sheet ice. That damn stuff is about as hard to scape off as concrete.

That's assuming you have an ice scraper.

Which I didn't.

Hey, I live in south-central Texas. The only ice we see down there is in our drinks. Fortunately, the hotel had an ice scraper that they keep on hand for people like me. After I got the windshield cleared off my first stop was at a truck stop where I got one of my own.

When I get home I'll be the only kid on the block with my very own official ice scraper.

Day Four

I finally got to go hunting today. We started before daybreak with a hearty breakfast of bacon and, well, more bacon, since there were no eggs. They ran out yesterday and won't get into town until tomorrow. Oh well, at least there was plenty of coffee - and bacon!

After chowing down we headed out. Today I focused on antelope. We saw our first herd early - about 8:30. After glassing them and determining that there was a shooter or two present, we headed off on foot to stalk them. They were on the side of a ridge about 500 yards away from us, wandering slowly towards a fence line separating us from the neighboring ranch, about half a mile away. We dropped behind a parallel ridge and humped it, trying to beat them to the fence line.

We lost the race.

We came up over our ridge just in time to watch them slip under the fence and trot unconcernedly away. So we trudged back to the truck. That little stroll took about an hour. It would turn out to be the highlight of the day.

About 30 minutes later we caught sight of another herd. Again with the glassing. Again with the stalking. This time there was no convenient ridge to drop behind close at hand, so being intelligent men we decided to outsmart the dumb beasts. We reasoned that they were used to seeing people in vehicles and in trucks, but not on foot. Plus if we didn't walk directly at them, we wouldn't be perceived as a threat. So we decided to walk at a tangent away from them to a distant ridge, then slip behind it, circle around, and come at them from above. Success would be ours! So off we went.

Did I mention that it had snowed the day before, but that today was sunny and warmer (temperature was near 50). So the snow was turning into slush, making the ground muddy. The same ground that was pockmarked with horse and cattle hoofprints - six inch craters hidden in the muck that twisted ankles and wrenched knees. Plus the mud tenaciously clung to our boots. Pretty soon it was like walking with 5 pound weights strapped to your ankles.

Oh yeah - it was uphill all the way.

After one hour of pure hell, we finally topped the ridge. I eased down behind a boulder, certain that the antelope of my dreams would be an easy rifle shot away. When I raised my head up over the boulder I had a perfect view ... of their furry little white rumps as they strolled merrily over the next ridge.

Undeterred, we set off at our best pace for that ridge. It turns out that the antelopes' casual strolling pace is far superior to our best pace. We crossed the next ridge and saw them halfway up the next damn ridge.

I took a quick distance reading with my range finder - 385 yards. To far for a shot under good conditions. No chance with my heart pounding, my chest heaving, and no steady rest available.

So it was back to the truck - again. Funny thing - it turned out to be uphill all the way back to the truck. Strange how that worked out.

We got back to the truck two hours after we left it. At that point we both agreed it was time for lunch.

After a good meal (BLT sandwiches) and a brief rest, we headed out again in the afternoon. This time we didn't see anything. We drove (thank goodness) to several spots, then got out and glassed for a while. Saw a few animals, but nothing worth stalking. At sunset we headed back to the cabins for dinner drinks, and bed - which is where I'm headed now.

More later, when time, events, and the shaky Internet connection permit.

The One Constant Is Change

Amarillo By Morning may be a great song, but Amarillo In Real Life sucks. It's a dreary depressing town that suffers from poorly planned and marked roads, which makes it difficult to navigate. Of course, my perspective is that of a frustrated traveler. Other opinions may vary.

Day Two of the Great Hunting Road Trip was characterized by change and contrast in just about every way imaginable. Let's start with elevation. My starting point for Day Two - Amarillo, TX - has an elevation of around 3500 feet. After a few hours on the road I was crossing Raton Pass on the New Mexico-Colorado border, with an elevation of 7834 feet.

Then there's topography. The Texas panhandle is devoid of geographical features. It is as flat as a tabletop. The roads are laid out with rulers. From above, it looks like a checkerboard. Once I got into Colorado, however, I encountered curves and mountains. Up and down, right and left - it's enough to make a flatlander seasick. I also saw my first snow-covered mountains of the trip in Colorado. Quite a change from the Texas plains.

The weather likewise changed. Yesterday the temperature was in the mid 80s. I wore shorts and a short sleeved shirt. Today the thermometer never got out of the 50s. Well, technically it did. It was in the low 30s when I stopped for the night. And the wind ... OMG ... blowing between 30-40 MPH, with gusts in the 50s. It was a crosswind today, blowing me all over the road. I don't know how the big rig drivers kept their trucks in one lane. One bonus to the wind: tumbleweeds were blowing across the road like crazy. Kind of neat...

Yesterday I spent all day in one state - Texas. Today I traveled through four; Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming.

Another difference - yesterday I experienced only one brief construction delay. Today those damn orange cones were everywhere. Miles and miles of construction and closed lanes. The most frustrating part was that in most of those 'Work Zones' there was no visible work going on. Lanes were blocked, speed limits were reduced, and absolutely nothing was going on. Government at its finest...

The wildlife changed also. Minimal road kill, as opposed to yesterday. I saw small herd of antelope grazing near the highway in New Mexico. I hope they're just as accommodating when I hunt them in Wyoming. Also, in place of all the Deer Crossing signs in Texas, Colorado had Elk Crossing signs. Very cool!

The roads I drove on changed as well, from state and U.S. highways in Texas and NM to Interstate 25 in Colorado and Wyoming. I'll be on IH-25 all the way to Sheridan WY.

Traffic changed from non-existent in Texas and New Mexico to terribly busy and congested in the 180 miles between Pueblo and Ft. Collins, CO. Speed limits were another difference. Texas has very reasonable (read: high) speed limits. In both NM and CO the speed limits are lower, and the reduced speed zones are much larger around small towns. Even the interstate's speed limits are lowered when passing through small and medium sized towns.

In Texas and New Mexico I went miles without seeing another vehicle, and hours without seeing a tree. In Colorado there was plenty of both.

Local radio station note of the day: the Raton NM station I was listening to read the obituaries on the air - all four of them. It also read the police blotter from yesterday. One arrest for failure to appear. No other calls or incidents.

Today's totals: 560 miles and 8 1/2 hours driving time, for an average of 65 MPH. Not bad, but not as good as yesterday.

I'm spending tonight in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Tomorrow should be a relatively short day - around 350 miles, about 5 hours or so of driving time. Then it'll be time to get out in the field and reduce the number of deer and antelope playing on the range...

Sticker Shock

I am observing with amused interest all the Sturm und Drang swirling around obamacare. One of the reasons for my bemusement is that I am unaffected by it - so far. But I am following developments closely, because I figure that at some point I'll be dragged kicking and screaming into that particular mess.

Along those lines, here is one of the most understandable and balanced overviews of what is happening, and what is likely to happen, to the young, the healthy, and the middle class. If you fall into one of those categories you owe it to yourself to understand the shitstorm that is about to engulf you.

CenTexTim says "Check it out."

In the past month, the Obama administration has been subject to blistering criticism over its technological inability to set up working online insurance exchanges for Obamacare. The real scandal, however, is just starting to come to light—the cost of the program to young, healthy middle class people.

Amarillo By Morning

Well, actually, Amarillo by evening...

Yesterday was Day One of my 10 day Wyoming hunting trip. More accurately, it's a 4 day hunt, bookended by three travel days on either side. It's 1400 miles from home to where I'm hunting. I could make it in two days if I pushed it, but I'm retired, so what the hell ... I'll take my time and stretch the trip out to three days.

Day One was Bergheim to Amarillo, about 500 miles. I left home at 10:00 a.m. The plan was to leave by 8:00 a.m., but things happened... It really didn't make too much of a difference, because I made great time on the road. I made it to Amarillo by 6:00 p.m.

Traffic varied between light and non-existent. The weather was good; cloudy in the morning, partly cloudy throughout the day, and cloudy again in the evening. Temperatures were in the mid-80s during the day, but dropped to the low 60s in the evening.

One of the (many) great things about living in Texas is the speed limits - 80 MPH on some stretches of Interstate highways, and 75 on most of the rural state roads. I didn't want to push my truck too much - it is, after all a 1995 model - but I was cruising most of the day around 80 MPH. The sad part is I was getting my doors blown off by West Texas soccer moms in minivans who passed me like I was standing still.

Anyway, zooming along at 80 MPH makes the miles fly by. Plus my bladder behaved for a change, so I only had to make two stops - and I got lunch to go. Distance traveled was 505 miles. Total driving time was around 7 hours. Average speed was 72 MPH. I'll take that on any trip.

Travel Notes:

You don't realize how big Texas is until you drive through it. I drove for a full day and didn't make it out of the state. There's an old saying:" The sun has riz, the sun has set, and here we are in Texas yet."  Very true.

Traveling through Northwest Texas is interesting, to say the least. My route took me through towns named Winters, Eden, and Sweetwater. None of those names are remotely close to describing the actual locales.

I haven't been in this part of the state in decades. Nothing much has changed, with one great big exception. Once I left Winters and climbed the cap rock I hit wind farms. It was mind-boggling. There were hundreds and hundreds of giant wind generators clustered along every available ridge.

Not the best picture, but it should give you some idea of the number and scope of the wind generators in West Texas. Click to embiggen to get the full effect.

It was surreal. The rotors were turning at the same pace, but were at different phases in their rotation. The effect was hypnotic. It was hard to take your eyes away.

It's a great location for them. The wind was humming at around 40-50 MPH - and that's on a relatively calm day. 18 wheelers were being blown all over the road. Fortunately, the wind was behind me, so it boosted my mileage. It was also sort of blasphemous. Pristine vistas were spoiled by either the wind generators, or the large towers supporting the heavy transmissions lines carrying the power from the wind farms to the cities south and east of them. I know it's a green energy, and that's good, but it does come with some costs (including a heavy death toll on migratory and endangered birds). More on that later.

Ironically, I drove past several ranches with wind generators churning away above old pump jacks faithfully extracting oil. To really confuse things, many of those pastures were either planted with cotton, or had cattle grazing in them. Talk about maximizing your resources!

Speaking of cotton fields, between Sweetwater and Lubbock the cotton crop was so abundant it looked like the aftermath of a snow storm.

Slightly further northwest, between Lubbock and Amarillo, the rest areas doubled as tornado shelters. Makes sense, since there's not a damn thing to stop the winds blowing down from Canada but a few barbed wire fences. The topography around here can best be described as "ping pong table."

Wildlife was plentiful, at least as indicated by the roadkill. Plenty of skunks and armadillos, of course, but also lots of deer, raccoons, and porcupines. I also saw the largest feral hog I've ever seen in person. It was the size of one of those large marine ice chests - about 5 feet long by 3 feet around. Thankfully, it was dead in a heap on the side of the road. I feel sorry for whoever hit it.

One of the enjoyable things about a road trip like this is scoping out the local radio stations. Out here in West Texas it's almost all classic country, which takes me back to my roots. One notable exception was Cool 100, which plays rock-n-roll from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Very cool!

I drove through the Panhandle towns of Snyder and Post. That's notable to me because I went through a phase where I dated West Texas gals. The first one, Sheryl S. from Snyder, taught me that there is no understanding women.

We met in Austin, after I got out of the Army. She worked retail, so I would meet her after her shift ended at 9:30 at night. I'd bring a six-pack and we'd sit in the parking lot, talking and listening to the radio. After a while we started fooling around a little. That led to weekend dates - dancing, movies, etc. That led to nights spent with each other. After a while we admitted that we were boy-and-girl-friend.

The week after that admission I met her as usual after work with the usual six-pack. She blew a gasket, reaming me out and saying that I was embarrassing her. I'll freely admit that I've embarrassed my share of ex-girlfriends and ex-wives in my time, but in this case all I did was what I'd always done. Somehow the change in our status changed other things as well. I still don't get it...

The other West Texas babe, Vicki T. from Post, opened my eyes to the ways of the world. I met her after the aforementioned Sheryl. Vicki was outwardly very proper and demure, but behind that facade lurked perhaps the wildest woman I ever dated. The first night we spent together she asked me to get something out of her nightstand drawer. I pulled it open and saw two vibrators and a .38 revolver. I looked at her and lifted a questioning eyebrow. She gave me a wicked grin and said "I like to be prepared for every possibility."

Boy howdy, was she a handful...  

On that note, I'm going to bed. More about Day Two tomorrow.

FOD 2013.10.28

I'm a little busy, so I'm reposting this excellent piece contrasting obama and the USMC.

You decide to take a Presidential trip to some steel mill to blame somebody for something, but you know you’re going to have to pass  them to get on the plane. They stand straight as a bayonet on the tarmac, their impeccable uniforms standing out in stark relief against the white of the helicopter. The brass on their belts and covers shines like gold, their shoes like black mirrors. Their salute is pure snap-and-pop, the product of years of living a disciplined, purposeful life, a life where every man is expected to give everything he has and then some for the good of the mission and the Corps, where excuses are simply not tolerated, where responsibility, respect, and honor are not quaint, outdated concepts, but a living part of who they are as individuals and as a brotherhood of warriors.

And you have to salute these men back. And it galls you, to the deepest pit of your soul, because you know that when you salute those Marines standing by that helicopter, you’re actually saluting better men than yourself.  Men that share a tradition of excellence that goes back 238 years, and it’s something that, no matter how many elections you win, or how many bad laws you manage to ram through a dithering and ineffectual Congress, you can never be a part of. They have something you don’t, and never will, have.

They have the title.

They are U.S. Marines. They weren’t given the title, They weren’t elected to the title, and they didn’t buy the title with money from Wall Street or Big Oil.  They earned it. They earned the title Marine with sweat, with blood, with fortitude, and with honor.  They have something you can’t have, and you can’t take away. For a man like you, the title United States Marine is utterly out of reach.

Semper Fi, baby...

Sunday Funnies 2013.10.27

Yesterday my wife and I celebrated our  anniversary. Mumble-mumble years of wedded bliss...

Marriage is the bond between a person who never remembers anniversaries and another who never forgets them.
-- Ogden Nash

Sadie and Benny were both 65 years old and were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. When all the family and guests had left their house, a fairy appeared from nowhere and said to them, “Congratulations, you two. I’m here to grant you both one wish each.”

Sadie said, “I want to travel around the world.”

The fairy waved her magic wand and POW – Sadie had tickets in her hand for a round the world cruise.

Then the fairy asked Benny what he wanted.

Benny replied. “I wish I had a wife 30 years younger than me."

So the fairy picked up her wand and POW – Benny was 95 years old.

A farmer and his wife are preparing their wedding anniversary dinner. The wife says, ‘Should I go out and kill a chicken?’

The husband replies, ‘Why blame a bird for something that happened twenty years ago?’

Actually, I am a very fortunate man to be married to a woman who puts up with more than she should have to. Here's to mumble-mumble more years, honey. Love you...

Ungrateful Children

We are in College Station this weekend, home of your fighting' Texas Aggies. We're here for Texas A&M New Parents Weekend. We drove for three hours in heavy traffic to get here and see our son, who's a freshman here.

He let us take him to dinner, then dumped us because he had a party to go to...

Anyone out there want to adopt a 19-year-old?

Friday Follies Happy Hour 2013.10.25

Dedicated to Brig. Gen. Robiie Risner.


Enjoy your weekend, courtesy of our men and women in uniform.

Headed For Heaven In Full Afterburner

Like many former servicemen, I have my own mental picture of the different branches of the military. The Army, for instance, is big, lumbering, and sometimes inefficient, but necessary - kind of like an offensive lineman. The Marines are mean and nasty - linebackers. The Navy is quick, agile, and hard hitting - an excellent free safety. But the Air Force ... ah, the Air Force.. the Air Force reminds me of the pampered quarterback.

While the Army tramps around in the muck and sleeps on the ground, the Air Force stays hundreds or even thousands of miles away, taking hot showers and sleeping on soft beds in air conditioned comfort. The Navy spends lots of time floating around in steel boxes. The Marines combine the worst of the Army and the Navy - tramping around in the muck and spending large chunks of time in those steel boxes. The Air Force, on the other hand, enjoys fine dining (relatively speaking), officers clubs, PXs, and all the comforts of home.

That's painting with a broad brush, of course - stereotyping, if you will. However, I'm willing to bet that most veterans have similar mental pictures. But every once in a while something comes along that makes me rethink my position. That happened yesterday when I read about Air Force Brigadier General Robinson “Robbie” Risner.

Retired Air Force Brig. Gen. Robbie Risner, a former San Antonio resident and senior-ranking American POW for five of the seven years he was held in Hanoi, has died following a stroke. He was 88.

General Risner was part of an exceptional group of men who fought in three wars - WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnem war.

Risner flew a P-38 Lightning in World War II and became an ace after shooting down eight MiG-15 fighters in Korea. He was famous among tactical aircraft pilots for using the nose of his F-86 to physically push his wingman's disabled fighter away from enemy lines.

Can you imagine the courage and skill it took to do that? It would be like driving your car down the highway at several hundred MPH and trying to nudge the car next to you through a curve - except that an airplane moves in three dimensions, not just two, and nobody is shooting at you.

He flew more than 108 combat missions in the Korean War, shot down eight MiGs, and became the 20th jet ace of that war. 

During the Vietnam War, Risner was an F-105 squadron commander. On March 16, 1965, he was shot down, but made it to the Tonkin Gulf before bailing out and was rescued. A month later, Time magazine featured him on their cover.  On Sept. 16, he was shot down again, and this time, was captured. To make things worse, his captors had the Time article, and made him their "prized prisoner,” which meant more abuse.  Risner served as a leader in the Hoa Lo Prison -- first as senior-ranking officer and then vice commander of the 4th Allied POW Wing. Some called him "the most influential and effective POW there."

Risner and other high-ranking prisoners saw the Hoa Lo as a new battlefield. The Vietnamese sought to break their captives, torturing Risner and others by binding their wrists and elbows closely behind their back, then raising their arms over their head, a rope running through a hook. Days might pass before a prisoner's arms popped out of their sockets.

“He had been in solitary for over a year, and then they put him in a cell that was totally blacked out, ... and he was in that cell for 10 months..."

One day in 1971, Risner and several colleagues organized a church service, a forbidden act, which led to more punishment. As their captors led Risner away, Col. “Bud” Day and the more than 40 other POWs in the room began singing “The Star Spangled Banner” to show their support. Hearing the defiant singing, Risner walked away with his back straight, head held high, full of pride.

When asked later how he felt at that moment, Risner said “I felt like I was 9 feet tall and could go bear hunting with a switch.”  That moment and his words are reflected by a statue, exactly 9 feet high, that now stands at the U.S. Air Force Academy.  Bud Day spoke at the unveiling of the statue, saying, “We knew he was in fact 9 feet tall. This is a life-size statue.”

He was awarded two Air Force Crosses for heroism in Vietnam, the first for leading the attack on the “Dragon’s Jaw,” a bridge that was one of the toughest targets in North Vietnam and withstood 871 attacks. The second was given for his leadership in the POW camp and courage under torture.

After more than seven years in captivity – more than three of which were in solitary confinement -- Risner was released. He was briefly hospitalized and reported he was ready for duty "after three good meals and a good night’s rest." He spent his remaining years in uniform commanding the 832nd Air Division, and serving as the vice commander of the AF Tactical Fighter Weapons Center, where he also commanded Red Flag. He retired in 1976.

Like many heroes, Risner spent a great amount of his remaining years sharing his story with our Airmen. At an event in the 1990s, he met a Russian MiG-15 ace who’d flown during the same time Risner had been in Korea.  The Russian pilot asked if they’d ever faced each other in combat.  Risner responded: "No way; you wouldn’t be here."

His military decorations and awards include the Air Force Cross with one oak leaf cluster, Distinguished Service Medal, Silver Star with one oak leaf cluster, Distinguished Flying Cross with two oak leaf clusters, Bronze Star Medal with V device and one oak leaf cluster, Air Medal with seven oak leaf clusters, Joint Service Commendation Medal, Purple Heart with three oak leaf clusters, Presidential Unit Citation Emblem, Air Force Outstanding Unit Award Ribbon with two combat V devices and the Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon.

There is much more to General Risner's life and Air Force career than what I've posted here. Do yourself a favor and find out more about this remarkable man. (Sources here, here, and here.)

Robbie Risner was a credit to the Air Force, and to the United States of America. We are the better for his having walked among us, and are diminished by his passing. Well done, General Risner.

Rest in Peace.

Better Things To Do

I'm sick and tired of all the crap that passes for news these days. Fortunately, today is a work day at our new deer lease. We're headed to Sonora (Texas) with trucks full of blinds, feeders, concrete (for building trailer pads and cleaning slabs), chainsaws, tools, and all sorts of other guy toys.

The good news is that we'll be so far out in the country there's no cell phone reception or Wi-Fi. That means a full day blessedly free of the nonsense currently polluting the airwaves.

Enjoy your day...

Public Service Announcement

There are a few single guys out there who drop by this blog every once in a while. As a public service to them, I'm passing along the following two items.

First, there's a lonely gal out there who's looking for some male companionship.

Bar Refaeli, 28, speaks to her inability to find a man — 'So what’s wrong with me? Why am I alone?'

Blue-eyed, blond beauty Bar Refaeli said she’s stumped by her inability to land a steady boyfriend, future husband and potential father to her children.

“I don't understand it,” the 35-24-35 stunner said in a tell-all interview running Friday in the Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth.

I don't understand it either.

Hard to believe this gal is having trouble finding a man.

The lucky guy who lands the sultry swimsuit siren might be surprised to discover that Refaeli has no aversion to handling her own housework.

“I’m not at all a feminist,” she says. “I don’t want him to do my dishes. I’ll do the dishes, and I’ll clean, and I’m the one who wants to stay at home with the kids in the end.”

As you might imagine, there's no shortage of guys vying for her hand. If you want to be the lucky dude who sweeps her off her feet, let me suggest that you get a new haircut.

Manhattan hairdresser Mischa G laughs out loud at the grateful message from a client thanking her for the look she crafted for him the previous day.

“Your haircut got me a threesome!” texts Philip McElroy, a 21-year-old Hunter College student.

Thirty-year-old Mischa Gobie (professionally, she goes by the initial G for her last name) is the creator of “The Get Laid Haircut,” a term she coined herself.

Ask any Mischa devotee and they’ll swear it gets results in the bedroom ... She came up with the term, “The Get Laid Haircut,” a couple years ago after so many of her customers shared stories of their conquests after she did their hair...

There you go, guys. All you need to do to get lucky is get a new haircut and then call the lonely supermodel.

You're welcome...

Drowning In Debt

The recent 'solution' to the government shutdown did nothing but kick the can a little farther down the road. In a few months we'll go through the budget/debt ceiling drama all over again. Rather than spend a lot of time commenting about it I'll just post this cartoon which does a damn good job of illustrating the difference between the two different approaches favored by liberals and conservatives. (H/T Mark Perry)

Needless to say, obama and the dems are all wet...

Reasons I Drink 2013.10.22

Things like this keep my local liquor store in business.

Some states are likely to allow federal workers who were furloughed during the government shutdown to collect both back pay and jobless benefits for the time they were idled.

Sigh...

Golf Trip After-Action Report

This morning finds me tired, sunburned, sore, hungover, and broke.

I can't wait to do it again...

Sunday Funnies 2013.10.20

Still golfing with my buddies ... and shaking my head over our government...

A bus load of politicians were driving down a country road, when the bus ran off the road and crashed into a tree in an old farmer's field.

The old farmer, after seeing what happened, went over to investigate. A few days later, the local sheriff came out looking for the missing politicos, saw the crashed bus, and asked the farmer where all the politicians had gone.

The farmer said, "I buried 'em all out back."

The sheriff then asked, "Were they ALL dead?"

The old farmer replied, "Well, some of them said they weren't, but you know how them politicians lie."

Why Dogs Should Be President

They work for the good of the pack.

They protect their young and their elders.

They do not lie, cheat or steal.

They won't spend money redecorating the White House.

They can be NEUTERED!

There ought to be one day - just one - when there is open season on senators.
~Will Rogers

Friday Follies Happy Hour 2013.10.18

The weekend in Austin continues. And what would a weekend in Austin be without some Willie?

Weekend Plans

If all went as planned I'm in Austin for a quasi-reunion and golf weekend. In a prior career, I was employed by what was at the time one of the nation's largest financial institutions. However, it, like many other banks, was closed by the feds in the late 1980's, victim of tumbling energy prices and diving real estate values (as well as a change in federal banking regulations that forced many banks to close that might have otherwise survived).

Anyway, it was a great place to work. I learned a lot and met a bunch of fine people. Several of us have stayed in touch over the years, and still get together twice a year for golf, food, drink, and fellowship - not necessarily in that order.

The golf schedule is brutal - 2 rounds on Friday, 2 on Saturday, and 1 on Sunday. That gets tougher and tougher as I get older and feebler. Toss in the inevitable late night bull sessions (fueled, of course, by liquid refreshments) and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep going.

But I'll certainly give it the old college try...

Told You So

When this shutdown farce started I predicted that the republicans would fold like a cheap plastic chair when a fat woman sits in it.

Turns out I was right.

"We fought the good fight; we just didn't win," Boehner told a radio station in his home state of Ohio in reference to GOP efforts to dismantle or defund President Barack Obama's signature health care reforms and extract deficit reduction concessions around the need to fund the government and raise the federal borrowing limit.

...the Senate deal under discussion would reopen the government by funding it until January 15. It also would raise the debt limit until February 7 to avert a possible default on U.S. debt obligations for the first time. It includes a provision to provide back pay to furloughed federal workers...

The dems get what they wanted. The repubs get nothing, except a heaping helping of blame for the shutdown and scorn for their lack of cojones. The American people get nothing except a failed healthcare system and more debt piled on top of an already unsustainable burden.

Anyone with half a brain could have seen this coming.

Of course, all this deal does is kick the can down the road for a few months. That means we get to go through this nonsense again early next year.

I can hardly wait...

This Too Shall Pass

I've had a variety of dogs in my life. My first was a Dachshund named, cleverly, Brownie (hey, I was five years old at the time - give me a break). Since then there's been a number of mutts, a few Labs, and one German Shepherd who made Christmas 1961 memorable by chasing an abandoned kitten we brought home through the presents under the Christmas tree, up the tree itself, and then in laps around the living room. Fortunately, the kitten escaped. However, Christmas that year was in ruins. But we recovered and forgave the dog for being, well, a dog.

One thing they all had in common was that, at some point, they would chew and/or eat something they weren't supposed to. Which leads us to this story.

It took five months, but Wayne Klinkel was reimbursed $500 Monday by the federal government for his dog’s expensive taste.

“It all comes out in the end,” Klinkel said, laughing. “It was great to get the check after all the crap I went through.”

The saga of Sundance began last Christmas, when the elderly golden retriever and his owners, Wayne Klinkel and his wife were on a road trip from Montana to Colorado to visit their daughter and her husband, Amy and Coty Church, in Denver. The Klinkels stopped at a restaurant for dinner, and left Sundance in their locked vehicle. They also left five $100 bills, and a $1 bill, in a cubbyhole.

When they returned about 45 minutes later, the doors were still locked and Sundance, then 12 years old, was still inside. The $1 bill was lying on the driver’s seat. About half of a $100 bill was next to it.

The rest of the money was gone.

Wayne knew exactly what happened. Ever since they picked up Sundance at a Wyoming animal shelter, they learned he would eat just about anything in sight.

Based on his previous experiences, Wayne also knew paper wouldn’t fully digest. So for the rest of his vacation, whenever Sundance went outside to take care of business, Wayne donned rubber gloves and followed his dog, hot on his “trail,” so to speak.

Wayne retrieved quite a few fragments, but it wasn’t until his daughter visited Helena in March that she was able to give him enough remnants for him to piece together portions of all five bills. He thoroughly washed them — again with gloved hands —and let the pieces soak for about a week while he tried to get in the right frame of mind for the task at hand.

Eventually, he drained and rinsed the pieces, using a screen made for panning for sapphires. Once the bills were dry, he painstakingly pieced them back together, taped them and put each individual bill in a plastic bag. On April 15, the Klinkels submitted them in plastic baggies to the Federal Treasury hoping to be reimbursed.

“Ten days later I got a receipt back saying my letter was received, but that’s the only communication I had during the whole process,” Wayne said.

A Federal Reserve spokesperson said that it could take up to two years and nothing was guaranteed; but if more than 51 percent of the bills were there, the Klinkels could get at least some of his $500 back.

Late Monday afternoon, when he picked up his mail, Wayne noticed an envelope from the government. Inside was a green and gold check for $500.

“I opened it and thought ‘holy s—t,’” Wayne said on Tuesday. “I gave Sundance a pat, showed it to him and told him not to eat it.”

He said there wasn’t any correspondence accompanying the government check, but in small letters typed in the bottom left it said “MUT.CURR REFUND.”

They deposited the check with their bank the first thing Tuesday morning, since the government had shut down due to the budget impasse in Congress, and the Klinkels weren’t sure it would be accepted. They also didn’t want to leave the check anywhere near Sundance.

The bank readily accepted the check, to their delight, especially since they recently paid about half of its face value to a veterinarian to remove a growth in Sundance’s eye. The surgery left Sundance blind in that eye, but he’s still just as adorable as ever to the Klinkels.

And even though they had to jump through quite a few hoops to get reimbursed — including grossing out a couple of bank tellers — Wayne said it’s been an interesting experience.

                   Sundance, the golden retriever known for eating five $100 bills, rejects the taste of the check his owner Wayne Klinkel received replacing the funds consumed by the beloved pet.

I can identify. Although our dogs never ate cash (at least not paper currency - I did have one that swallowed a quarter) we've made more than one phone call to the vet asking about the possible consequences of eating something not generally considered food. And I've done my share of poking through dog crap to make sure the offending object passed through intact.

The most memorable occassion was when our Lab snatched a dropped popsicle in midair and swallowed it whole. The concern was that the popsicle stick would splinter and perforate her stomach or intestine. The treatment was to cram cotton balls soaked in mineral oil down her throat, the idea being that the cotton balls would wrap themselves around the stick and the mineral oil would facilitate passage throughh the digestive tract. The 'outcome' (hah!) was better than expected. Shortly after the cotton ball meal she threw up the whole mess -- stick, cotton balls, dinner, and a bunch of other stuff. Of course, she was inside at the time - in our carpeted living room.

Sigh...

Dogs - gotta luv 'em...

The Last Straw

The government shutdown hasn't really affected me personally. In fact, it hasn't affected most of my friends and neighbors. All that might change, however, as a result of this.

Shutdown closes tap on new beers

The federal government shutdown is giving some folks one more reason to cry in their beers: An obscure but powerful arm of the Treasury Department has stopped approving new brews.

All new beers that get bottled or canned to be sold across state lines must be approved by the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau, known in the industry as the TTB. Federal workers must approve the label, as well as the recipe if it uses non-traditional ingredients, which many seasonal beers contain.

While the TTB as stopped approving new recipes and labels, workers there are still collecting brewery taxes.

Of course they are. A little thing like shutting down the federal government won't stop the tax collectors from squeezing out every last penny from their victims.

As for that bit about "Federal workers must approve the label...", here's an extract from the Federal Regulations covering those labels on beer bottles that guys in bars spend their time peeling off.

TITLE 27--Alcohol, Tobacco Products and Firearms

CHAPTER I--ALCOHOL AND TOBACCO TAX AND TRADE BUREAU, DEPARTMENT OF THE TREASURY

SUBCHAPTER A--ALCOHOL

PART 25--BEER

Subpart J - Marks, Brands, and Labels

Subsection 25.142 - Bottles

Paragraph (b) (3) (2):

If the location of two or more breweries is shown on the label (paragraph (b)(1)(ii)), or if the brewer's principal place of business is shown on the label in lieu of the actual place of production (paragraph (b)(1)(iii)), the brewer shall indicate the actual place of production by printing, coding or other markings on the label, bottle, crown or lid. The coding system employed will permit an appropriate TTB officer to determine the place of production (including street address if two or more breweries are located in the same city) of the beer. The brewer must notify the appropriate TTB offcer (sic) prior to employing a coding system.

It's enough to drive a guy to drink.

One last thought: if the workers who approve new beers aren't essential government employees, then no one is...

Blog Update

Added:

Mallard Fillmore

If you're fortunate enough to get the Mallard Fillmore comic strip in your local paper then you already know that he is the conservative answer to Doonesbury. What you may not know is that Brice Tinsley, the creative talent behind Mallard, has just started a blog to go along with his cartoons. Check it out.

Removed:

Parkway Rest Stop

It's been almost four months since this blog was updated. I don't know what's going on - I certainly hope nothing bad has happened to Jimbo - but that's too long between posts. If anyone knows the story behind this please let me know.

Other:

If you're a regular reader of this blog and have one of your own that you'd like me to add, please drop me a line and I'll add you to the blogroll.

centextim@yahoo.com

Toejam:

Please come home. All is forgiven...

Weekend Update

By now you're probably seen this picture of a legless veteran carrying a barricade from the WWII monument to the White House.

He was part of this weekend's rally by veterans, truckers, and bikers protesting the obama administration's closing down our monuments and memorials. The American Thinker has an excellent photo report on the rally. Here's a few snippets from the article.

Several thousand U.S. Veterans and their admiring supporters descended on Washington D.C.'s WWII Memorial to protest the punitive treatment of Veterans by the Obama Administration during the ongoing government shutdown.

People drove through the night or flew in the day before from as far away as Florida, Louisiana, and California. One active-duty soldier flew in from Germany just to participate in the two-hour rally, and rushed off to fly back so he wouldn't be AWOL on Monday.

Vets ... took down the barricades blocking access to the WWII Memorial, some saying "Mr. Obama, tear down this wall."

The rally then moved west to the Lincoln Memorial, where vets again tore down barricades.

They then carried the barricades several blocks north and piled them up in front of the White House.

Where police in riot gear met them, along with at least one sniper on the White House roof, "in case the unruly mob of wheelchair-bound octagenarians and their supporters got completely out of hand and stormed the White House..."

The mood of the crowd is summed up in this sign.

No, veterans don't fear the federal government. But maybe the federal government should start fearing veterans. More and more of us are getting sick and tired of the contempt and abuse we're being showered with by career politicians and bureaucrats who never served and are only concerned with staying in power.

They need to be reminded they work for us, not the other way around.

Of course, after all the fun and games were over obama sent "essential government employees to re-install barrycades at the WWII Memorial".

Our tax dollars at work.

At some point this is going to get ugly...