Smoke on the Water

Flag Day

I went to the bank today. It was just before noon, and they were in the process of closing.

This is a good bank.

They're a local group, not one of the faceless megabanks we all know and loathe. Their lobbies reflect the seafaring heritage of this area, with decor of authentic, vintage ships binnacles, ships wheels, accurate half-hulls on the wall, and some of the finest framed canvases of the art of the sea you'll find this side of a prestigious museum.

A quiet dignity prevades the building. Not the artificial sense of wealth and exclusion of a consultant/designer/decorater appointed McLobby. No, this is a place that respects money hard-earned, and those who labored to earn it.

Quite a few young people work there. Or, I'm just the old fart flirting with the twenty-something at the teller's window. Regardless, there's an energy and enthusiasm there that I wish I could bottle and sell. It's not an over-the-top, rah-rah kind of thing. I doubt this crew has ever had to suffer though a corporate teambuidling excerise, either.

After I'd completed my transaction, I was about to leave the lobby when I noticed a young employee folding three flags he'd taken down from the flagpole in front of the bank. This kid couldn't have been more than nineteen, but he wasn't the typical teen-slacker type at all. A sharp crew cut, almost Marine Corps in it's precision, his polo shirt had creases on which shaving would be a safe option. Dockers perfectly gigged to his shirt, I pegged him as at least an R.O.T.C. type, or perhaps a kid waiting for admission to Texas A&M.

But he was lost with those flags.

They were lying on the lobby sofa, in halves and in squares. He was so folding a small American flag when I quietly walked over, and asked him if he needed help in properly folding that precious banner. He didn't quite know what I meant, and that's when I knew, and my heart fell.

Gently taking charge, I instructed him to hold the field end of the flag, firmly and tautly extended. Following my words and moves, he folded the banner as I directed, and he watched in amazement as I walked towards him, lovingly cornering that flag, triangle by triangle until we were hand-to-hand at the final tuck.

I held that tricorned flag with it's pocket barely opened, and talked him through how to tuck the final bit into itself to form a perfect tricorned presentation.

As we made that final told and tuck, I asked him to remember the veterans and their families who see him take that flag down every day. I told him what it means to us to see our flag receieve the honor it deserves. And I thanked him for his patience as I taught him to render this honor.

Going back to my car, it was another ten minutes before I could see clearly to drive back to work.

The next time you see that kid in your town having trouble with the Flag of the United States of America, take a moment and go help. He will never forget that lesson.

And neither will you.

FURY!

It is a very good thing right now, that there's a computer screen and miles of distance between myself and the idiot you're about to read of.

Thanks to my blog-sis, for sending my normally tranquil blood-pressure off of the chart. By the way, you must read Baldilocks on a daily basis. Captain's Orders!

How is it that this school administrator hasn't been taken out, and horsewhipped, then tarred, feathered and hung by the neck from the gym's basketball hoop is beyond me. I'm serious. This asswipe is doing as much, if not more harm to the kids under his care, than every violent cartoon and video game ever made, combined!

And you wonder what the hell is wrong with our schools?!

Gunsmoke, Cigar Smoke and Freedoms

Politicians are surely the lowest form of life.

Take a lawyer, strip from him the last vestiges of honor, decency, trustworthiness and respectability, and you'll still have to dig down through seven levels of Dante's Inferno to even approach the average politician's level of living damnation.

Certain lawyers, of course have escaped that particular curse.

But I digress.

Sushi to Go

I've heard it takes a lot of guts to be seen riding a widdle biddy scooter.

Okay, my caption sucks. Write your own in the comments.

Groundhog Monday

Remember the Bill Murray classic "Groundhog Day"?

It's been Monday for me, all week thus far. And it's not going to get any better, as far as I can tell.

Fact is, I'm going to have to venture out and find a replacement job for the one I currently hold. The boss informed me Monday that the sales pay plan is going to change from a salary-plus-commission structure, to a commission only plan.

I've made a fine living in straight commission sales, and am not unwilling to do it again. But I will not do so while holding the management responsibility which is easily one-half of my job.

So, this is a long winded way of apologizing for the suckitude of my blog the past few days. Worry not though, I'll persevere.

I always do.

Project Linkage

I'm trying to fix my sidebar links, so that I can add some more worthy blogs.

One that's on there already is Little Tiny Lies. His take on Al Freakin is just freakin' RIGHT.

You'll find reading Steve's stuff is time well spent. Oh, and might I suggest you always move your liquids well away from your keyboard whenver you go there?

A wise precaution, I assure you.

Marksmen

Kim DuToit has gone all National Enquirer on us.

With pictures, even.

I had mentioned this weekend just a few posts down. What I hadn't mentioned, in order to avoid "spillin' the beans" as it were, was just who had invited me, as well as other salient details of the weekend.

Of which, I can now speak. Frankly, when I opened Mr. DuToit's e-mailed invitation several weeks ago, I was literally "jaw agape" in response. Honored would be an extreme understatement.

She Who Must Be Read, Returns;

A while back, Mrs. DuToit had decided to hang up her keyboard as it were.

That was a black day in the blogosphere. Garments were rent, sackcloth was worn and piles of ash were poured upon our heads. Oh, the mourning. The wails of lament. The pain of losing a true anchor of intellect, sense and incredibly skillful writing, wrested from our shores.

She has had mercy on us, and once again graces our screens with her wisdom and word.

Go forth and read. Ye bloggers, adjust your blog-links accordingly.

Welcome back, Connie.

Oh, Shoot.

I'm tired. Very tired. But it's a good tired.

What a wonderful weekend. The company of a very select few, fine men. Shooters, marksmen and patriots, every one.

The fact that I scraped by and managed not to embarass myself, inspite of a four year* gap in practice sessions, was a huge elixer to my well-being.

* On Christmas holiday, I fired appx 50-ish rds, mixed .32 acp, 9mm para and .38 spl, with my Dad and Stepmom, in Orlando, FL.

I'd hoped to at least be able to hit the broadside of the barn. From the inside, if necessary. Alas, they never let me near that damned building, confining me instead to the benchrest and firing line.

Damn tyrants.

Once upon a time, I used to be a good shooter. Twenty some-odd years and a weaker set of eyes later, I'm not as I was. Not by a wide margin.

Still, I'm still confident that I could post a "Goblin Beware" sign at the dock's bulkhead, and make it count when it matters.

But why give a goblin an even break?

Shore Duty

I'm a landlubber this weekend.

Although I brought my laptop with me, the hotel phone just wouldn't connect with my modem. Such is life in deep South East Texas.

When I get home, I'll smell of piney woods, cigars and gunsmoke.

Lots and lots of gunsmoke.

Why I Like Cats

Over the past week, Acidman endured the Mother of all Catbombings.

The MOACB strike was skillfully flown by Da Goddess, who artfully launched a diversionary strike to take up Rob's attentions upon the sunny beaches of Jamaica.

Battle Damage Assessment reports showed multiple on-target hits, with a devestating 98% rate of accuracy.

Sadly though, collateral damage did occur. In a regrettable, "friendly fire" incident, Rob, the Acidman himself was splattered with shrapnel random hairballs and kitty litter.

While Acidman is expected to make a full recovery, he sent this dispatch from the front, and swears to avenge this real Pussification of the Southern Tall Dog.

Two Visions

I like it when I read a journalist who gets it right, for a change.

Monday's Deanplosion was expected, sooner or later, but was and is, largely, a mere distraction from the larger issues. The fanantics of the Islamic world have declared and waged war on the United States and other Western societies.

President Bush nailed it in the State of the Union Address, and David S. Broder examines contrasts between the donk dwarves and President Bush's positions in Two Visions of America.

And I think he's nailed it.

In this first month of the long campaign, the Democrats as a group have decided that the principal challenges facing the nation are right here at home -- jobs, education, health care, the environment -- while Bush is profoundly convinced that the most serious threats lie abroad.

To me, the second most serioius threat is pretty much ensconced within the democrat party.

You'll have to register on this one to read more. In this case, the registration is easy and non-intrusive, so I went for it. The article is worth it, so I'd encourage you to do likewise.

Aloha, Rachel

Aloha. It's the only word that fits. Both Hello and Goodbye, but with the wish and hope of warm welcome back.

Rachel Lucas is calling it a day and shall blog no more. Which makes it a sad day for me, and for you, too, I'm sure.

You see, hers was the very first blog I'd ever read. Such a powerful voice, an incredible mind and surely one of the most astonishingly pure writing talents on the globe, will be sorely missed.

I won't call for her to return though. I think the whole of the blogosphere as done so, repeatedly.

Hell, just putting my own weak-assed blog is daunting enough. Her work though is several levels above mine, and I understand all too well how much work and self-pressure she's endured. I've cranked it out like that in the executive world, and it's utterly, completely, exhausting.

I will miss her voice as it were, upon my screen. Terribly so.

But, Rachel, should I be so honored that you're reading this; THANK YOU. It was great.

May your life be full of blessings, joy and ever growing success.

Aloha, Rachel.

Grouchy, yet Succinct

No doubt, Denny wins my vote for the best summary of last night's State of the Union address.

And while you're there, keep scrolling down from his homepage, and tremble in fear at the hell which would ensue if..if.....

...."If Women Ruled The World!" [insert Howard Dean-ish mad scream, here]

*heh*

Buttheads weak Rebuttals

All in all, I give a favorable nod to President Bush's State of the Union address.

Sure, there's too much costly pandering to the entitlement interests, but at least he's effectively defanging the donks and leaving 'em with virtually no issues, other than their rabid hatred of George Bush.

The so-called "rebuttals" <---(sneer quotes stolen from DU), were so weak and off target, even the donks in donk focus groups panned 'em.

But, um....., speaking of rabid, did you take a gander at Rep. Pelosi's face? Freddy Krueger'd be skeert a'her. Hell, even Tom Daschle looked almost human compared to her.

One more face lift, and she'll have a beard.

Smoke Signals

Just over two months ago, I decided to take heed of the suggestions, request, urgings and outright demands from other bloggers and their commenters. Hence, "Smoke on the Water" came to be, and I've been enjoying the ride so far.

But before I could really think about publishing a blog of my own, I had to let some concepts percolate in my mind. To me, it wouldn't be enough to merely have a site upon which to write. There are now over a million blogs out in the 'sphere. While I don't expect mine to be the best, I sure as hell didn't want it to be even mediocre, much less the worst.

In my forty-five years, I've enjoyed many a passion in my life. Some have run their course, others remain and grow stronger. Obviously, the two most noticeable from my blog are cigars and sailing. It is from these that the name of this site; "Smoke on the Water", was inspired. The fact that it's also a huge '70s hit from Deep Purple didn't hurt any, either. So, having a concept...a base from which to write, I set forth to, if nothing else, entertain myself.

Much to my surprise, I've gathered more than a few regular readers, and I'm grateful for each and every one of you. Hell, a few of you even comment now and then. Thank you!

Whalespotting

You gotta love President Bush's State of the Union address.

"For diplomacy to be effective, words must be credible, and no one can now doubt the word of America."

President George W. Bush, January 20th, 2004

The speech progresses. And with every cutaway to the face of a tormented Ted Kennedy, I'm thinkin' that George has already stuck more harpoons in that bloated bag of scotch in just this one speech than Cap'n Ahab ever sunk into Moby Dick.

At least the Moby killed his victims in honest battle, rather than sneakily sinking 'em in the family Oldsmobile.

Cat Scratch Fever

Cat Grumbles Acidman has returned from his vacation in Jamacia. Hide your wimmin an' pussies.

Or is that redundant?

Welcome back, Rob.

Deanspiel

Remember the vile "Bush=Hitler" ads from MoveOn.org?

Give this soundbite a quick listen, but overlay a German accent onto it. Cold chills.

'Nuff said.

Political Malpractice

With a nod to Dax, .... Just Damn!

I was about to call it an early night, but this seems to have been custom written for a brisk fisking. Who am I to deny them their pain?

Dean Blames Third-Place Finish on Attacks
24 minutes ago

By NEDRA PICKLER, Associated Press Writer

Actually Nedra, most of us here in the blogosphere could have told you that about twenty four days ago, give or take a few days. (the money quote is the closing line, fyi)

Bejus !

After a long day's work, I've enjoyed the spectacle which is the ongoing implosion of the democrat American National Socialist Party.

Yet, strangely, I'm not compelled to blog about it tonight. Sort of a "BFD" effect, as it were.

I offer you instead, the incredibly accurate and insightful Donnie (Your friendly neighborhood schizophrenic blogger....and my blogbruddah.) Bejus, his stuff absolutely rocks tonight!

These are MUST READS: this one. and this one. this one, too. yet another. you only thought you were done! hah!

Just a hint. I saved the best, for last.

A Matter of Life or Death

Read this as if your life depends on it.

And in fact, it very well may.

Richard Pryor once remarked that after making the movie Stir Crazy on location at Arizona State Prison, he was really, really glad that prisons exist. He illustrated that by quoting an actual interview with a convicted murderer:

-- "Why did you kill all the people in that family?"
-- "Cuz they was at home."

If Kim Du Toit isn't on your list of daily reads, you're only stealing from yourself.

Still Slackin'

It's working though. A windy, cold front from the North is rocking the boats here in the marina. Not too much though, really more of a "just right" cadence which matches the mellow in my soul.

With the heat on in the boat, and a splash of Maker's Mark for my personal thermostat, it's a nice ending to a relaxing day. The top hatches are cracked a bit to let the smoke from a perfectly made El Rey Del Mundo waft upwards and out. Remarkably, the smell of smoke never clings belowdecks. Fresh, clean sea air works wonders.

Slacker

Yep, that'd be me this weekend. I'm just relaxing, letting tension flow out of my body and being. So, light blogging till later this evening.

We'll see what a day of loafing, followed by a decadent repast, wine and cigars may bring to the screen.

See ya then!

A Friend of Freedom.

I want to introduce you to someone I've just met, today. Well, I've exchanged e-mails with him, but I'm sure that we shall meet, and it will be as meeting a brother. You see, we both cherish and love freedom, and share the same disgust for tyrants, despots, dictators and a certain group of mullahs in Iran.

Upon reading his op-ed in the Houston Chronicle, I knew immediately that his writings need as wide a distribution as possible. If you agree with his opinion, let me encourage you to help spread the word.

The Chronicle hides their stuff behind a "must register" page after the current press-day, so the above links won't be of much use as of midnight tonight. So, with the direct permission of the author, I've posted his entire article here, for you.

Meet my friend, Mr. Reza Ladjevardian

Allah you will Laugh!

Guaranteed. Massive bandwidth when you click, so if you're not on a high speed line, click then come back in oh, ten minutes or so? Your smoke break oughta suffice, unless you light up a good Romeo Y Julieta Churchill.

In which case I'll see you in a couple of hours.

Forgive me, I digress. The Creator of Worlds takes but a sliver of his eternities and shows us the world of the donks in Iowa, from his God's-eye vantage.

Thou shalt not bear liquids neareth thine keyboard!

Google Grin

Kindly go here, and type in; "Smoke on the Water". Press "google search". If you press "I feel lucky", may you get lucky with the fleas of a thousand wahabbis!

Thank you all for your support! *huge grin*

Jim
Sloop New Dawn
Galveston, TX

Fisking Feckless Al

Today in New York City, the former Vice Perpetrator stood up on his wooden legs and gave a speech mind numbing, idiotic and monotonal bleat.

I'd call it an act of political suicide, but the corpse of the political left wouldn't know it's dead two weeks after being cast into hell itself. Which, simply cannot happen soon enough.

Here's a portion of what he said.

January 15, 2004, 2:21 PM EST, Copyright © 2004, The Associated Press & props to Drudge for the link)

NEW YORK -- Former Vice President Al Gore on Thursday blasted President Bush as a "moral coward," saying he abandoned the public interest to accommodate his financial contributors.

First, Al. Fuck you. Does the world Loral ring a bell? Been to any Buhuddist Temples lately? People have been convicted of crimes involved with your 1996 reelection campaign. You wouldn't know a moral precept if it woodpeckered up against your sawdust filled, wooden skull.

Sounds Fair To Me

Legendary lawman Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County, AZ is a man whom, in my opinion ought to be elevated to higher office. His record of very tough, but very fair treatment of prisoners in his keep ought to be a lesson plan for this nation's jails and prisons.

Just this action alone will undoubtedly cause a significant number of miscreants to find other counties than Maricopa in which to futher their criminal careers. From the AP wire:

PHOENIX (AP) - Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who gained notoriety for putting inmates on chain gangs and issuing them striped uniforms and pink underwear, has now ordered all undocumented immigrants currently in jail to register for the draft.

I hope they put up posters and notices all over the County for that. Not only would a wider publicity just drive the left nuts.... (well, okay....nuttier, but is that even possible!?), it would serve as quite the warning to the criminal class.

Catastrophic

Seems like someone not only forgot to put the cats out, she gave 'em free run of the vaunted crackerbox.

Hope our dear Joanie (Da Goddess, to we mere mortals) has already been fitted for her own cast-iron ass-plate? Methinks she's gonna need it, soon. *heh*

Oh. Full Drink Alert Warning on this one. Enjoy!

SOTW Scoops Drudge

You read it right. I guess I'm up too late, but this just off of ABC News Radio. It's also here, on their website.

The story? Carol Moseley Braun dropping out of the race, to endorse DEAN.

DES MOINES, Iowa Jan. 15 — Former Illinois Sen. Carol Moseley Braun, whose campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination, never got off the ground, will drop out of the race and endorse front-runner Howard Dean, campaign officials said Wednesday.

And yes, this means I've scooped Drudge. I know, I was just there, and checked.

12:25 am, CST, in case you're curious.

One down, eight to go!

Profile in Courage

Here's a tale which is sublime in it's almost karmic outcome. S-Train has lived one hell of a life.

Now, his life is one hell of an example of courage and decency to us all.

Prime Beef

If you don't regularly read Frank over at IMAO, well, you should.

This isn't up on his blog as a post today, but from his "Random IMAO quote", which is found at the very top of his banner. That said, it's so damned right, I wanted to give it a mention.

What's the difference between a vegetarian burger and a regular beef burger? Both are just processed vegetables, the former had the processing done by machines and the latter done naturally by a cow. And which one tastes better? Nature's way of course. When a cow eats vegetables, it has this almost magical ability to sort out only the tasty parts of vegetables and then repackage it in the form of yummy meat. But those nature-hating vegetarians think they can outdo God's way and thus are arrogant and evil.

*burp* I agree, and the beef fajitas I just had for lunch agree with me, too.

A Warrior's Heart

Donnie of the Bejus Pundit weilds both a deadly sword and a mighty pen.

I submit to you that if you set foot on the grounds of the Alamo -- the Alamo of today, or any portion of the old Mission that is covered with modern buildings, shops, stores, roads, or sidewalks, and you have any inkling whatsoever of its history, and don't leave those grounds with a tear in your eye and/or a lump in your throat, you need help. Lots and lots of help.

And I submit to you reading this now, that if you can read his entire post without a tear in your eye or a lump in your throat, you're in similar need. Big time.

Salutes to you Donnie, from Galveston, Texas. Mend quickly and mend well, sir.

Natural Selection

Here's some New Year's candidates for the Darwin Awards. I never cease to be amazed at the extreme ignorance of people when it comes to the sheer power of the elements.

The West coast has just been pounded by some of the worst weather in decades. Winter over the North Pacific involves massive Siberian blasts which churn up long-moment swells which travel for thousands of miles. Until they encounter the coasts and beaches of North America and various Pacific Islands. A single storm generated swell can, with the random timing of nature, synchronize with the normal pattern of coastal waves to generate a sudden, suprizing monster of incredible force.

100 Posts

No big fanfare, but it's a milestone. A rather small one, but I'll enjoy knowing that I've given some small measure of consistency since this blog's 28 Nov 03 launch.

But Sir Banagor has something to say which is far more important than a mere statistic. What you'll read there conveys the absolute truth about the global war we're in right now. With thanks to Misha for the heads-up on this one.

I know what side I'm on, and who my enemies are.

Just Damn!

Man, did I ever have a case of up headupassitis when I neglected to add this guy to my list of "you gotta read 'em" blogs.

I'm damned choosy about who I'd take up arms with and go afield in quest of game. But I'd be honored indeed to commit Bambicide with Dax Montana.

Damned good reading from a damned good man. Y'all enjoy now, heah?

A Tale of Two Cities

It takes an ordinary citizen to peel back the disguise and reveal the ugliness which lives in the hearts of the liberal, moonbat, socialist left.

My apologies for having to link to Reuters Rooter Snooze, but sigh, such is the net.

OELWEIN, Iowa (Reuters) - Dale Ungerer, a 66-year-old retiree from Hawkeye, Iowa, succeeded on Sunday where eight Democratic presidential hopefuls have failed -- he made front-runner Howard Dean show a flash of his much-discussed temper.

Springtime for Hitler?

Well, not really.

But a certain Rabbi has a great article which bears reading. In case you might have wondered just where the idiots at MoveOn.org find their inspiration, perhaps this letter from their mentor might clear things up just a bit.

My Dear Juliusi,

Landsberg prison which I entered on April 1, 1924 and where I wrote Mein Kampf, is strangely similar to this place, that I entered after shooting myself to death on the afternoon of April 30, 1945, and from where I write this letter.

You ought to make a printout of the whole thing for your democrat uber-socialist friends and co-workers. Just drop it on their desk when they're not looking. Nothing beats the sounds of a bitchslapped moonbat banging it's head on it's desk in the throes of mental agony.

The Gospel of Bill

If you've never read the essays of Mister Bill Whittle, then you need to set a weekend aside to do so.

Not since Mark Twain has a writer so completely captured the American Spirit in words. Mr. Whittle posts only occassionally, so he's apart from...no, strike that...he's far above the fray of competing blogs who post daily in quest of readership. *grimace*

Here is his newest post. It's not a true essay as such, but more of an introduction to his very important, and much anticipated essays to come.

Per my first sentence, if you've not read Mr. Whittle, let me suggest you start with this essay. Set a good hour aside, but it'll be one of the finest hours of your life.

Trust me on this one. Go. Read. You will never be the same as you were before.