Smoke on the Water

Cleaning Party

Over the past couple of days, I've virtually disassembled and subsequently reassembled the belowdecks spaces of my boat.

An early spring cleaning, so to speak.

You might think that there's not much to clean in a thirty-foot sailboat. Tell you what. If you think it's easy, let me know, and I'll let you volunteer for the next detail-party.

Fair warning though. When I clean at this level, it involves not only the usual buckets, brushes and such. I also use old toothbrushes, Q-tips, crevice knives and bronze-wool.

Never Again

The watchword of every Israeli. Of every Zionist. (count me in). And of every Christian who, unlike the gay-embracing branch of the Episcopalian Church Kumbyah Klan, has actually read their Bible.

And who don't consider the Scriptures to be a "living document", like they do the United States Constitution.

And under the category of Never Again, falls this crowd of bigots.

Adbusters, huh. I've got their bust, locked and loaded. Remember that phrase "Never Again". And be prepared to back it up, regardless of cost.

I don't care what that group might offer to me, they're not worth wasting a sheckle upon.

Even though I've no idea of the monetary conversion of a sheckle, hey, it sounded good, nu?

Hat tip to Misha for the link.

Myself, I'm in the mood for a Tea Party.

Let the Games Begin!

Thank Worthy

It's been a long, long day.

I am weary, and tired to the core of my soul, but I will not fail. So, tomorrow is another day which will demand all my energies and attention.

A bit too tired to blog coherently here, so please let me refer you to a couple of superb articles which Indigo has posted on her truly great site.

Hopefully, one of you who knows Blogger/Blogspot in and out will go and set her up a good comment engine. In the meanwhile, I'm offering up my bandwidth here, for y'all to respond to those two posts.

And I hope you'll so so. I've no doubt she'll enjoy each and every bit of feedback you have to offer. Ms. Indigo surely deserves it. I don't think there's a more selfless person out there in the blogosphere... she features so much of our works in her " pussyfootin' " segments, and I don't think that she gets the thanks that she so richly deserves.

So here you go. Thank you, ma'am! This one's for you, Indigo.

Tech Wonder or Amazing Fraud?

Most local free press tends to fall into the camp of hemp-wearing, patchoulli oil reeking, bongwater chuggin' moonbat hippies of all ages.

Our local Galveston free paper is much more centered, and a lot less political.

Call it a nice, happy, libertarian "live and let live" attitude, and you'd be pretty close. Some of their readers are heavily into the green agenda though, which shows clearly in some of their letters to the editor.

One such letter though, led me to a very fascinating website. Check this out.

I extracted the following lead from the pages of the Twisted Parrot, via a Letter to the Editor and the Ed. Reply. This site features news of a most interesting vehicular technology coming out of Spain. Here's where y'all come in.

I want to know if this has validity, or is just some tree-huggers wet dream? Or both!

The MDI Air Car claims to run on compressed air, powering a unique, articulated connecting-rod based, piston engine. Which, when speeds exceed approximately 35mph, can then run on various fuels in internal combustion mode.

They do seem to have ample documentation of the engine's development.

While I don't see the technology at this level taking over the market for 300 hp luxury sedans and SUVs, I do think it'd have great use for postal vehicles, golf carts and the like.

Obvioiusly, the MDI folks think it'll go much further than that. Fine.

I want to know what you think.

Carnival of the Mammaries Vanities

Joanie, our Cat-Bombing mistress of DaGoddess has hosted this week's Carnival of the Vanities.

Finding my Flag Day post from 31 Jan 04 included in the listings was a most uplifting experience. Cross my heart, it was! And not to be lifted and separated from blog-family, it seems DaGoddess enjoyed my blog-daughter's rip on the Ignorant Generation so much, she too is featured in the Carnival.

Now if I can just figure out which photo Dana posed for. *M'heh!*

Blue Screen of Politcal Correctness

Being the World's Richest Man is no guarantee of being the Wisest. But then, like any maxiumum politician, celebrity or other executive, a guy like Gates will tend to find himself surrounded by bootlicking yes-men of the lowest order.

Still, that's no excuse for this. My friend, blog-progeny and fellow boat-bum Rivrdog points out that Emporer Gates is running around his empire, sans clothes.

His post is worth not only reading, but studying! And once you've done your homework there, go and read my Blogfaddah's take on what Rivrdog reveals. From Rob's damned well-written article:

Don't attempt to re-write history to spare delicate feelings about controversial matters. Dig into that crap with both hands and show your children just how corrupt, stinking and at the same time worthless, such symbols were.

You'll find it time well spent. And more than a bit unsettling, too.

Not bad, a three-generation post.

Slay the Fatted Calf!

My Blogfaddah, Acidman is back, and is bloggin' badder and better than ever.

Back from where, you ask? Don't ask.

Just go and read, enjoy, and leave comments.

Welcome home, Rob.

Changing Course

My apologies for my bloglessness yesterday. I took a day to rest and regroup after a rather disquieting Saturday.

Which is when I resigned from my job. On the spot. With absolutely no notice.

Two issues led to this decision.

The first was an ongoing pay dispute concerning the computations of draw, commissions and salary. A third grader with an abacus could have figured my pay with more accuracy and honesty than my former boss.

But, all sales jobs sometimes have pay issues to resolve. I can patiently work things out with the best of them.

Worse though, is the boss' wife presuming to interfere with, and cause harm to my personal life. I will not tolerate such a crass, despicible act, and said so quite clearly.

Suppressing the furious urge to wreak physical havoc on that office was, exhausting.

So, your humble blogger will be busily sending out both faxed and e-resumes, as well as spinning the good old Rolodex at warp speed.

In spite of the overwhelming stress, I somehow think that this will turn out to be a Good Thing.

I have faith.

An Exception to Ignorance

Do you want to read an awesome post?

Well, do you, punk!?

Sorry, some Dirty Harry slipped in there, somehow.

Seriously though, I'm not putting this up just on the basis that my blog progeny wrote it. This isn't a refrigerator covered with crayon scribblings, for crying out loud.

No. This is linked for your reading pleasure for one reason, and one reason only.

Because it's awesome.

My friend, Billy, invited my husband and me over for grilled steaks and beer. Joining us were his parents, his girlfriend, and a few of our other friends. Ages 19-48 were represented, and when we reached politics as a conversation topic, I learned just how ignorant my generation really is. Billy's dad quickly stated, "Let me guess, I bet you are a democrat, like everyone else your age." I was stunned for two reasons. First, I never knew most people my age were left-wingers, and second, this man didn't even take the time to ask my opinions or views before making his foot-in-mouth assumption.

But don't tell me a I can't be proud. I'm bursting with pride, and I'm enjoying every bit of it.

Go read about the Ignorant Generation, from someone who is anything but.

I'm gonna sit back with a drink and just soak it in. Way to go, Dana. And, as Dax would say....

....Just Damn!

Knuckles

28 Nov 99

That's the date of manufacture of the wonderfully aromatic cigar I'm presently enjoying.

And, "how do you know this", you ask? A fair question. Let me tell you. Inside the beautiful, Spanish Cedar lid the box of Cupido cigars I received from Cuban Crafters Cigars, is the signature of the Trocadero...the Master Roller who made all twenty-five of 'em.

By hand.

There is also an inspector's signature. Yes, these are indeed, superior, vintage cigars.

From the vegas of Tabacalera Esteli, in Nicaragua, the tobacco from which my cigar was made had aged and cured for at least three years after harvest, before it was ever rolled into it's present form.

A Dangerous Flood

It should come as no surprize to anyone that I support President Bush, and am rallying for his re-election.

That doesn't mean I agree with him on everything though. And when he screws up, he seems to screw up big.

His proposed immigration fiasco is a case in point. I'll be lobbying my local congressroaches and senaturds to fight against it, regardless of party affiliation. The Washington Post features an article today, which sums up the point of my opposition to this misguided initiative. Check it out.

The National Border Patrol Council said apprehension totals increased threefold in the San Diego area alone, adding that the vast majority of aliens detained along the border told arresting agents that they had come to the United States seeking amnesty.

Overworked, Underblogged

Stop being so stinkin' busy. That's what I told myself about four hours ago, but damned if the customers give a whit about my lack of blogging.

Oh well. But I have had enough brief bits of time to read a good article or two out there.

This is a Good Article.

Ms. Noonan touches on the current polls which have President Bush running behind the J. Fonda Kerry. And then she gives us this.....

Mr. Bush is the triumph of the seemingly average American man. He's normal. He thinks in a sort of common-sense way. He speaks the language of business and sports and politics. You know him. He's not exotic. But if there's a fire on the block, he'll run out and help. He'll help direct the rig to the right house and count the kids coming out and say, "Where's Sally?" He's responsible. He's not an intellectual. Intellectuals start all the trouble in the world. And then when the fire comes they say, "I warned Joe about that furnace." And, "Does Joe have children?" And "I saw a fire once. It spreads like syrup. No, it spreads like explosive syrup. No, it's formidable and yet fleeting." When the fire comes they talk. Bush ain't that guy. Republicans love the guy who ain't that guy. Americans love the guy who ain't that guy.

That's a gem. Enjoy the whole thing.

A Rant of Beauty

There are blogs, and then there are blogs! There are rants, and there are RANTS!

This blog, and this rant, are among the best of the best. Wear safety glasses to read this though...it may scorch your eyes.

From DebbieJ of DGCI.

I'm not a scholar, or orator. I am just an ordinary person, so don't expect me to be quoting snotty authors or writing 8 letter words to get my point across.

I'm pissed.

I'm fed up with all the jello-spined, snotty, power hungry, more taxes, less freedom, less military, less security, anti-Democracy, Pro-communist, Pro-Affirmative Action, Anti-Get off your ass and live your own life, Pro-Welfare, Anti-Get off your ass and get a job, French/German/UN ass kissing, terrorist ass kissing, "Let's drag this country into the sewer", "9/11 needs to be forgotten", "Bush lied", "Bush is Hitler", "Bush is evil", bottom feeding, scum sucking, FREAKING LIBERAL MORONS!!!!!!!!

That, my freinds, is how it is done!

I highy recommend you give 'em a visit over there, and do kindly extend the kindness of leaving your comments, as well.

The whole DGCI site is well worth your valuable time. In fact, I'd strongly suggest you spend an hour or five digging through their archives. I don't know how I'll find any more time to add a daily read to my list, but I'm gonna squeeze 'em in, starting today.

Enjoy!

Unfit to Serve

Just because a blogger is new at the game, doesn't mean he or she can't kick some major ass on the web.

Kerry's ass, in this case.

Go read this post over on Rivrdog's new blog. Follow the link, and read what former Green Beret Don Bendell has to say about John Heinz57 Kerry.

Rivrdog's take after reading what Mr. Bendell has to say?

My take: how dare this man even dream about leading this nation? He is unfit to lead his dog down the street.

Righteous anger, indeed.

By the way, scroll further down on Rivrdog's site and read his series about what I'd call, Rivrworld. With photos, even.

Very, very impressive. Well done, dawg!

Der Smokehaus

Sometimes, the left just gets so goofy, they transcend mere stupidity and cross over to being entertainment.

Such is the case here. Pull up a chair and enjoy, y'all.

Now, we might not agree with everything that The Governator is doing in California. That said, he's a damned sight better than that miserable failure, Grey Davis.

While Arnie's latest Executive Edict gives me great reason to smile, the reactions of the hand-wringing nanny-state left has me absolutely chortling in mirthful, sardonic glee.

Damn, I just love it when they don't get their way.

UPDATE: 18 Feb 04 - 07:41, CST

Drudge picked up the topic today with this Washington Times article. The Washington Post article of 14 Feb, which I referenced yesterday is subscriber only, but I did indeed fisk the entire article, so you didn't miss a word if you didn't register.

Notice the different spin from the Washington Times. Much more *gasp!* anti-cigar fervor there. Idiots.

Oh, and it's nice to be a full day ahead of Drudge on something like this. M'heh!

The Fix is In

For the Shipwreck, that is.

After spending almost two hours yesterday messing with docklines, I arrived at the conclusion that there was no way to both keep enough scope in the lines to allow for normal tide cycles; and: rig the lines in such a way as to prevent extreme angles of heel when freak low tides occur.

Fine. But sailboats have lots of neat things called turning blocks, snap shackles and spare halyards lying about. I put 'em to good use, as well as employing a very well secured sheet winch.

New Dawn now has a ninth dockline to the midships pier piling. It runs from said piling, across the cockpit to the starboard jibsheet turning block, which I've temporarily attatched to the lower mainsheet track, aft of the helm. After rounding the turning block, the line then goes to my portside sheet winch.

For you landlubbers, that's a 2:1 mechanical advantage.

Upon awakening this morning, I discovered that the New Dawn had taken on about a five degree list to starboard. Which, when I moved to the starboard side of the boat, became a twenty degree list.

No problem. A quick few turns of that sheet winch pulled the boat back to nearly vertical. I don't want to bring her all the way to vertical, as then the risk would be the boat flopping over onto her PORT side. And onto the dock.

I'll be happy when the tides return to their normal cycles. I would be even more happy if they'd dredge this end of the marina!

Shipwreck

I kid you not.

Coming home from another nice weekend of shooting, cigars, sippin' fine bourbon, and um, other activities, I arrived back to the New Dawn ready to face another week at the hellish salt mine at which I'm employed.

Upon opening the companionay hatch, the sight that greeted me was a shocker.

Almost every object from the Port side of the boat was on the cabin sole. The coffepot's carafe was in shards, the butcher's block of knives were scattered about, and there was papers, spices from the galley and just all manner of detrious strewn from stem to stern.

I'm typing this as I take a break from the cleanup.

For the life of me, I cannot understand just what caused this mess. It's as if the boat had taken a deep, hard heel to starboard while out at sea, but with the cabin being completely unsecured for being underway. Yet, I'm tied to the docks with no less than eight docklines, all perfectly adjusted to accomodate up to a five foot tidal cycle.

Twice a year, a phenomenon occurs which may be a potential culprit, but I'll have to reasearch it a bit to see if it happned over the weekend.

It's called an Astronomical Low Tide. In this marina, that would mean an extra two-foot tidal fall, on top of the five foot allowance I have the lines set for. Such a tidal fall would mean only about one foot of water under my boat....and she needs four feet in which to float. If so, that could explain this mess.

Either that, or the cats are plotting mutiny.

UPDATE: 21:25 hrs.

Having visited with my neighbor John aboard his 44' ketch, I can confirm that it was indeed, an abnormally low tide at fault. The same Norther that gave Dallas and Austin a snowfall blew about 3' of water out of Galveston Bay and out into the open Gulf of Mexico.

Combine that with the standard low tide as charted on the tide tables, and I ended up with less than a foot of water under the HULL. The keel was stuck two feet down into the mud itself. John said the New Dawn was resting at about a 45 degree angle yesterday morning.

Wouldn't have done me any good to have the cats walk the plank from that situation...they'd have been able to just walk ashore.

Unexpected Heroes

First, go get yourself a cup of coffee, or whatever it is you sit down and relax with on a Sunday morning.

Turn off your phone for the next ten minutes. Tell the spouse and the kids to give you some space, some quiet time to yourself.

And read what Doc Russia has to say about Navy Corpsmen.

Personally, I'm no stranger to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, CA. I've been stitched up there a time or three. The corpsmen there are exactly as Doc describes.

When I was oh, twelve or so, my brother foolishly kicked in sliding glass door. Sliced the hell out of my leg, too. I'm barely exaggerating to say that the sound of falling glass hadn't yet subsided when our neighbor Terry, a Navy Corpsman, vaulted over the 6' fence seperating our yards.

I didn't realize then as I do now, the skills he applied at that moment, but I'll absolutely never forget him virtually flying over that fence.

Most of us, sooner or later will need emergency medical attention, I'm glad Doc Russia will one day be an attending E.R. physician. Guys like him better our odds. Is it no wonder we have the best medical system in the world?

Y'all go read this link too.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

That says it about as well as it can be said.

Picture This!

Faithful friend and reader Valerie sent me a link to a pair of very gratifying photos.

Salutes to the blog E-nough. Very well done, and thanks!

Punk'd

Like most everyone on the net, I read the usual sites for news, information, insights and opinion. You can find just a few of the ones I visit on my sidebar under "Crow's Nest".

Of course, I don't list every resource for two particular reasons. My links would end up looking like the newslinks on the Drudge Report. That, and I've gotta keep a trick or two up my sleeve to keep things interesting. *heh*

But I think a whole bunch of the Big Dogs passed over a very insightful article by Marianne M. Jennings. You may have read her op-eds in your local newspaper. It's easier to find her at Jewish World Review though.

If you think this excerpt is potent, then read the whole thing, as the saying goes.

Punk radar is in the gut. Many love Bill Clinton. The rest of us see only Eddie Haskell having affairs each time the man speaks. The same is true with terrorist punks. National security depends on stopping punk terrorists from entering the US and wreaking havoc. It all boils down to instinct, a gut feeling. It's unscientific, and perhaps it's profiling, but it works.

The logical build up to that quote is remarkable in it's precision.

And that's not even the money line.

The Cold Wind

The cold wind cuts to the bone, and gives no quarter.

Bracing myself against the onslaught, I trudge through the night, coming home from a long days work at an icy desk. Though a short walk from car, to dock, to boat; each step is agony.

Old injuries speak loudly when the cold wind cuts to the bone.

Warmth awaits belowdecks, yet strangely, I linger upon the pier. Gazing slowly around, I take in the trawlers, the sloops and cruisers around me. Up on the hard rest the weary, awaiting renewal with paint, props and the attention of owners and shipwrights.

Lights framed by glowing halos, the waterfront, devoid of wanderers to join me, brings warmth to my soul.

In spite of the cold wind, that cuts to the bone.

I am home.

J.F. Kerry, unzipped?

As I write this, Drudge is reporting the possibility of a Kerry infidelity bombshell. Might be so, might not. Sorry, no linkage to a specific Drudge article yet, the story is just breaking live on his whole front-page.

Doubts exists about the story though. After all, an ABC News intern isn't exactly a billionaire socialite heiress..... Kerry's the Giggolo's normal prey.

If it's true, then here's my call on the story. It's either:

1. The demotards last-ditch effort to draw attention away from Kerry's completely anti-American voting record and his entire post-Vietnam life, or;

2. The IED (Improvised Explosive Device) just detonated by the Clintons to open the way for a Hildebeest "rescue" of the demotard ticket for November.

This might be plausible, given the departure of the Clinton's "Manchurian Candidate", one Weasely Clark, from the candidate pool herd of lemmings.

Come to think of it though, couldn't a John F. Kerry indescretion be a play for the good ol' Clinton vote?

I dunno. I guess it depends on what the meaning of "is", is!

Check Six, Break Right!

The call of an effective wingman.

Lord knows the press is to Bush as a flight of MiGs are to an F-15 Eagle. Fancying themselves as moving into the kill zone, they don't even know they've been trapped by a classic Hi-Lo setup.

In this Letter to the Editor in today's The Washington Times, COL. William Campenni (retired) writes of his time and service with Lt. George W. Bush. Side by side, in the exact same unit at the exact same time.

From the Imperial Throne

When Emporer Misha speaks, wise men and women listen, and take counsel.

Count yourselves among them, and set an hour aside for this. Not only did Misha write one of the finest, most concise, power packed and downright explosive rants regarding one John F. Kerry (Traitor, MA), but his comment thread is surely one for the ages.

The comments by Mikenchi and Mrs. DuToit are especially noteworthy.

By nominating Kerry, which it seems the Dumbocrats are wont to do, they're essentially declaring this:

They are no longer the Loyal Opposition. They are the enemy. Of freedom, sovereignty, self-determination an all else which makes us Americans.

And they must be stopped, both now and forevermore.

Bloom(berg)ing Idiot

I like Michelle Malkin. A lot.

No, getcher' mind outta that particular gutter. Sheesh. I like what she writes, how she thinks, the things she stands for.

Here in this superb article at Townhall.com, Michelle truly scores an "X" ring shot at the Repulbican Republican In Name Only Mayor of New York City, Michael "Nanny" Bloomberg.

Soggy Bloggin'

I'm not sayin' that it's rained here all day yesterday, all last night, and with no end forecast for the next two or three days. Nah.

But I'm glad I live on a boat mini-ark.

You know it's been pouring when a flock of ducks quits flying, and waddles past while wearing lifejackets. When I leave here to drive to work, I fully expect my windshield wipers to have to fling falling fish offa the glass.

Rain, you say? Hell, it's so wet here, Ted Kennedy wouldn't need a car to drown his date.

General Retreat

"Retired Generals Never Die," said Mac Aurthur, "They just slowly fade away."

Maybe so.

But some others get their ass handed to 'em in the democommie primaries.

Run home to mommy the Hildebeest, Wes. Scumsucking opportunist, perfumed prince political dilettantes like you disgust me. You whored yourself to the Clintons just because your prissy little ego was miffed. Hey Wes, just because wiser heads than yours in the White House didn't see any need for your clumsy counsel in the days following September 11th, you throw an electoral temper tantrum?

Asshole.

The sad thing is that Weasely Clark isn't even the worst of the Nine Dwarves which started in this Circus of Fools. And at the rate they're rallying to nominate Kerry Lurch, it's evident that their goal is to elect an even more anti-American traitor than the Slickster ever dreamed of being.

As an American political party, the democommies are rapidly approaching irrelavence. If not for their fellating fellows in the press corpse, they would have already have been laughed off of the political stage.

It's going to be a most entertaining electoral campaign, folks.

I can't wait to see President Bush's $200 million political arsenal fire it's first salvo.

Hookahs R Us?

My other blog progeney has brushed up against the hookah lifestyle.

She seems to like it, too. *sigh*

What, oh what is a blogfaddah to do? Only thing I can think of for now is to just light up a good cigar as soon as I get to the office.

Rivrdog BLOG!

Once again, I'm tremendously proud and immensely honored to introduce to the blogosphere, a New Blogger.

But an old friend.

I give you, Rivrdog.

If you're new to my site, Rivrdog's About Me page is a damned fine introduction to this incredible, courageous and honorable man.

But if you've been here a while, perhaps you'll remember this post. And this one. And once again. Finally, one more.

I'm sorry to say that I never did post those pictures as promised. I've yet to master the art of TypePad to the point of including photos within a post. That's my fault, and one I shall rectify, soon.

Back to the point though. I'm honored to call Rivrdog my friend.

And now, I proudly include Riverdog in The Armada.

With friends like this, we need fear no enemies.

Welcome aboard, Cap'n.

CZech This Out

Yesterday was an unexpected pleasure.

My awareness of the day started out with that blissful, luxurious state of zombitude which can only be enjoyed on the weekend. You know what I mean. The sky is luminous, but the sun hasn't yet made it's appearance. The cats are still content to snuggle, not quite ready to go through their feed me morning song and dance moves.

Just lying there, aware but not fully awake, snug under the blanket and absolutely basking in the knowledge that duty is not calling, and you're in no hurry to stir.

Which is precisely when Marcus called. 0800. Damn.

Pistol Packin' Mama

Not all the news out there is bad! This tidbit ought to start your day with a smile.

Woman opens fire on intruder A man is wounded as she defends her home with two handguns.

Believe it or not, this happened in the People's Progressive Collective of the State of California. And it wasn't even a Hollyweird movie.

Firing nine rounds from two handguns, a 53-year-old Rancho Cordova woman fended off an intruder Thursday night after he crashed through her sliding glass door.

MY President

Due to recent episodes of Righteous Anger and Ice Cold Fury, I've not been able to settle into the appropriate state of mind to properly honor a great, great man.

President Ronald A. Reagan.

To my thinking, the greatest President of the twentieth century. Yes, even above the vaunted FDR, Truman and Kennedy.

No, not because those fine men and great Presidents were Democrats, (I used the captial D for them, to show my respect. Those men were Americans first, and democrat party-ists, only second).

Ice Cold Fury

I have an idea for a new lottery. I'll get to that in a moment.

First though, bear with me through a second consecutive angry post. The previous post had my blood boiling.

This one though, I'm as cold as hydrogen at absolute zero. Seriously. I have wept, cried and pounded my fists on the desk I sit before. Now then, I'm empty and cold. And furious.

And a cold fury is the most dangerous anger known to man.

Well past anger, caring, feeling. Facing what can only be desribed as inhuman, I embrace my own moral humanity by setting aside all limits, any inhibitions, any semblence of hesitation, doubt or uncertainty.

This fucking monster must die, and die terribly.

And publicly.

And soon.

My proposal is simple. Mock me not, I am completely, totally, serious about this.

The State of Florida should open a lottery, of which the Jackpot is the HONOR of killing one Joseph P. Smith, by any means desired. No limits. No rules. No restrictions of any kind.

With execution to be televised on Pay Per View. All revenues of course, to go to young Carlie Brucia's family.

Believe me, there's tens....hundreds of thousands of men and women out there, just like me. For us, the days of liberal judges in our courts, are over. For us, the mores of society regarding "human rights" for such a totally inhuman beast, are over.

It is time that VENGANCE make it's return to the halls of justice. I truly believe that we must assert our humanity by decisively exterminating vermin such as Joseph Smith. And vermin, lacking in both humanity and rights, may be killed in any manner that we please.

Open that Execution Lottery, and I'll stake my sailboat on the results. It will break every lottery revenue record ever set in that state.

Let the Games Begin.

Righteous Anger

On September 11th, 2001, almost three thousand people died in the flames and rubble of the World Trade Center.

Hundreds more died in the Pentagon, and in a lonely field in Pennsylvania.

Tens of thousands of family members grieve to this day. Millions of Americans still do, myself included. But we also have a righteous anger, which, when called upon to fight and to do justice cannot be quelled.

I am thus angry at this disgusting sonofabitch*.

He too, should die in the manner of those from whose terrible deaths he sought to profit.

Douse him with Jet-A and hoist him by a helicopter sling to the height of a 101 story building. Ignite his scabarous body and after letting him burn for five or ten minutes, release the sling and let him drop straight into the pits of Hell itself.

May he burn there for all eternity.

*via Drudge

The Armada

I've been mulling over additions to my Blogroll. Obviously, with way the hell over a million blogsites out there, I'd...um...sorta exceed my bandwidth if I were to add 'em all.

There's so many good ones out there though. And more than a few are truly great ones.

Thanks to my tech guru and mentor, Paul of Light & Dark, I've finally made room on my sidebar to accomodate more passengers. However, unlike the Titanic, I have no lifeboats on this ship.

Sail at your own risk.

With this post, I now open a new Sidebar category of bloggers. Said list is truly near and dear to my briny, barnacle encrusted heart.

I give you The Armada.

Blogs, and related websites, by boaters. Most, like myself are liveaboards. Some are actively cruising the seas, while some like myself are tied dockside while still grinding away with jobs ashore.

Others will be on stationed inland, but are yachtsmen all the same. I'll be the sole judge of who qualifies.

Suffice it to say, ownership of a bass boat jes' ain't quite gonna cut it.

The first entry tonight is Mr. Bob Baird. His self-named blog is truly a worthy read. I give you this superb example.

Welcome aboard, shipmate!

Stowaway

A grey, misty morning after a night of hard rain, passing thunderstorms and odd gusts of wind from every quarter.

Sitting here at the nav station, a cup of steaming coffee at hand, I've only one small, dim light burning to pave the way to the coffeepot. I've read some morning blogs, leaving the odd comment behind, here n' there.

The boat's gently tugging at her lines, missing the hiss of open water across her sleek hull. Her diesel had lain silent for months, on the donor list for a heat-exchanger transplant to give her new life.

Let's Make A Deal

When you're pinched between a bearded, tryannical dictator on an island you've now twice fled from, and a United States Coast Guard vessel guarding the shores of the land you're trying so desperately to reach.

You're screwed.

Someone with a Scarab needs to give these guys a lift, next time. That is, if they're ever heard from again. Repatriation, my ass.

Keep those brave, freedom loving Cubans here. Send Castro a boatload of Hollyweird leftards to take their place.

We double our winnings on that kind of deal.

On the Right Path

While reading a few of my daily scans, I came across this morsel from Townhall.com, which is a rich source, indeed.

Dennis Prager's poingiant article about his meeting with President Bush is worth a few moments of your time. It's heartening to have another confirmation of the intristic decency of man who holds the most powerful office in the world.

An excerpt:

Those who believe that a Bush re-election is indispensable to a better world can only pray that the Democrats continue to regard George W. Bush as intellectually challenged. He never was, and he has grown in these past four years so greatly that his Democratic opponent will not know what hits him in the fall debates.

Encouraging.

Now, if only the President would remember that conservative also applies to the budget, we'd truly be in great shape for November.

Janet: An Accurate Diagnosis

My friend, fellow shooter and marksman Doc Russia is every bit as accurate with his keyboard as he is with his Makarov any damned weapon ever put into his untrembling hands.

With scalpel-like precision (you're gonna need that skill, Doc!), he cuts to the core of the equine excrement which befouled the Superbowl halftime festivities freakshow.

"If women could draw a gun as fast as they cover up the accidental boob slip, then the west would have been tamed by the likes of 'wild' Betty Hickock and Jessica James."

You really must read the entire story.

Physician, heal mine ribs. Yea, verily, the laughter doth hurteth mightily!

Project Linkage at 50%

A 'puter geek, I am not.

But I muddle through. At long last, I have one-half of the puzzle solved for adding more entries to my typelists.

Tonights long overdue additions are Doc Russia, Sgt. Hook and The Origin of Soul.

Whack me with your handy Clue Bat to bring my attention to any I've missed, or that you think I might enjoy reading.

Step two will be for me to figure out how to squish the spacing between sidebar entries. Bet I'll do a Homer Simpson-ish d'oh! when I figure out that one!