Smoke on the Water

To Steel Hearts

The post immediately preceeding this one is my tribute to the fallen on this Memorial Day.

We honor those who gave their lives for our freedoms, and for the freedoms of other peoples on this one day.

Yet, at the end of the day, we go forward. Our troops, be they in Iraq, Korea or in a training billet stateside, remain and serve faithfully.

They are not forgotten. Remember them too, this Memorial Day.

This then, is for those who yet serve.

General George S. Patton's Uncensored Address to the Troops

Anyone who has ever viewed the motion picture PATTON will never forget the opening. George Campbell Scott, portraying Patton, standing in front of an immensely huge American flag, delivers his version of Patton's "Speech to the Third Army" on June 5th, 1944, the eve of the Allied invasion of France, code named "Overlord." Scott's rendition of the speech was highly censored so as not to offend too many fainthearted Americans. The soldiers of the American Army who fought World War II heard the real George S. Patton;

For Love Of Country

And of our fellow man.

In the face of this electoral season's acrimony, it behooves us all as Americans to every now and then declare a truce, step back from the brink and to take stock of this awesome Nation of ours.

Of all of ours.

Be you Raving Liberal or Vast Right-Wing Conspirator, this time is not about you. Or about me.

It is about Them.

It is for The Fallen.

Each year the soldiers of the Third United States Infantry Regiment ("The Old Guard") take part in the ceremony called "Flags In." Just before Memorial Day, each grave in Arlington National Cemetery is decorated with a small American flag.

The flags remain in place until the conclusion of the Memorial Day Weekend when they are all removed. It is the only time during the year when American flags are permitted at all gravesites in the Cemetery. The "Flags In" detail took place this year on Thursday, 27 May 2004.

Personally, I believe deeply that we lose something vital to our survival as a Nation when we forget the blood of patriots.

Words, symbols, heated rhetoric and clever argument all pale when measured against the brilliance of the white of marble, the emerald carpet of living grass borne over they who rest beneath, forevermore.

And the fields and fields of flags upon each, bearing quiet witness to the precious, eternal value of that sacrafice.

Dignity, honor, respect and a day of rememberence is all that they ask now of us.

Especially, rememberence.

So, this weekend, set aside if only for a day, thoughts of (D) or (R). Rail not against your fellow American, nor wish harm to him, his party or his creed.

Not on this day.

The men and women in those graves are no longer Democrats or Republicans. They are still and eternally though Americans, and are forevermore worthy of this day given but to them.

Honor the Day. Honor Them.

From their dark and silent graves, they give more honor to our Nation than any one politican, party or officeholder dares ever imagine.

Dignified beyond words, with nobility above the highest offices of government, these silent warriors speak loudly of what it is to be American.

They did not die for the Republicans. Nor for the Democrats, Greens or Libertarians.

Whether in combat, or fifty years later surrounded by only the memories of comrades long since passed, the men and women resting forever under those flags once marched proudly under that banner. They have earned nothing less than the unqualified respect of a grateful Nation, and her grateful people.

The last full measure of devotion is an awesome, terrible thing. Yet, magnificent; and it is upon the altar of their sacrafice that we enjoy the freedom of the greatest Nation in the history of the world.

Stand and salute, and remember them.

For our own sakes, and especially for theirs.

REMEMBER THEM!

Come and Take Buy Them!

With apologies to Leonidas.

But seriously, these stickers are valuable beyond their low, low price. Mine has been on my desk for only one day now, and I've already had the pleasure of answering three different inquiries as to it's meaning.

Get yours just with a few simple clicks of the mouse, and but a mouse-sized nibble to your checking account.

Unless, that is, you buy a whole case of 'em.... *hint, hint*

Let's hope that success with the stickers leads to tee-shirts, coffee mugs and all other manner of cool Molon Labe stuff.

Go forth and conquer purchase!

Shameless Plagarism

There is simply so much raw material in yesterdays Al Gore (Lunatic, TN) ravings. Sadly, I'm pressed for time, and just can't wade through all of the possibilities.

So, I give you this brief, but powerful take from Tuco's best friend.

Gore did not used to be like this. He was a sane, sober, well-bought politician. Now he is a spittle-flecked lunatic, a raving psychotic, who 3.5 years ago was 600-odd votes away from the nukular football.

Thanks, Velociman!

Next.......

...... THIS ABOUT SUMS IT UP !!!

Hat tip to Curmudgeonly & Skeptical, via Kim DuToit.

Time to trudge off to work now. *sigh*

UPDATE: Do. NOT. Miss. Rachel. Lucas'. Take. On. The. Gorehhroid.

Type Pad Sucks

At least, it does right now.

Recently, TypePad contracted with a couple of anti-spam ISP blocking software providers. I'm not going to describe it in detail here.

Suffice to say, they're trying to swat flies with a sledgehammer.

I cannot at this time, even post comments to my own blog!

What this means to you, (as I'm sure that many of you have found), is that it's become impossible for many of you to leave comments. It also means I cannot engage in a constructive or fun dialogue in reply to your comments.

I'm sendng my note of ire to TypePad, forthwith. It'd be cool if you'd all pile on, too.

Here's where: http://www.typepad.com/site/contact/

Give 'em hell.

The (alligator) Tears of a Troll

In response to my earlier post, Those Scheming Weasels, I have received an e-mail from a relatively civil, albeit snide, troll.

Now, while I don't mind a fair exchange of intellectual dialog via e-mail, I really do mind when the trollespondent sends via e-mail, what should really have been a comment publicly written to the post in question.

Spewing trollpuke into my e-mail is far less honorable than just daring to spew it out into the open, where it's fair game for one and all. Especially when said troll uses a quote from my post and throws it into my face as it's e-mail's subject line.... "putrid, cynical and manipulative ....?"

So then, as I develop my own, unique rules for dealing with trolls, one rule I'll go ahead and act on now is this. Whatever you e-mail me is subject to appearing here, out in the open and for all to see.

Case in point?

UPDATE: Thanks to reader "A Recovering Liberal", for pointing out a math error I'd made in the original post. That's been corrected now.

A Warm, Fuzzy Feeling

And it's not from Hallmark.

In all my years of shooting and instruction thereof, one particular niche gives me more pleasure than even shooting a perfect competition score.

Teaching women to shoot.

No, don't let your mind go on a gutterslide on that one. I'm being serious here.

The fact that providing such instruction has become one of my favorite shooting pasttimes should be readily evident to anyone who is well versed in the art of the gun.

Good Morning

This was nice to wake up to!

And what are the odds of taking a peek at this exact number?

Thank you all, very much.

Whittle, on Strength

If you do nothing else with your time this weekend but to read this, then consider it time well spent.

Take my advice though.

Turn off your phone, lock the door, put the dog out and tell the family that you're not to be disturbed for the next two hours!

It won't take you all that long to read it.

But it will take you that long to catch your breath when you do.

And finally, let me presume to speak for the great majority who read this small blog.

Bill Whittle...thank you from the bottom of our Red, White and Blue, patriotic hearts. Thank you very much, indeed.

Those Scheming Weasels

This breaks all the records for political cynicism. All of them.

Richad Nixon, at the lowest days of Watergate, never stooped this low. And at least, Nixon had the decency and love of country to resign, when it became clear that impeachment was a certainty.

Too bad the slickster never learned such decency from Tricky Dick.

What the donktards did learn though, was how to add chapters to their book of dirty tricks. Seems it's their bible these days.

How fitting, given the left's propensity to do away with Bibles at every possible opportunity.

Yet, continuing down the sewage slide into the septic-tank that is the political left today, John Fucking Kerry actually manages to sink to Clintonian levels of manipulative depravity.

BOSTON (AP) - Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry is considering delaying accepting his party's nomination to gain time to raise and spend private contributions and lessen President Bush's multimillion-dollar financial advantage, campaign officials said Friday.

The Democratic Party would still hold its national convention in Boston at the end of July. If Kerry were to delay acceptance of the nomination for a month, it would help even the financial playing field with Bush, who will be nominated at the Republican National Convention in New York five weeks later.

Unbridled contempt for their own voters, much less for the national interests as a whole. That's what this is. Just imagine the howls from the press Stalinist Media should a Republican have floated this trial-balloon.

Kerry's campaign and the Democratic National Committee are still considering the specifics of such a plan. Convention delegates could be asked to gather at a later time for a vote.

Leaving the door wide open for a charge by a stampedeing Hildebeest. Remember the magician's trick of getting you to watch the busy hand, while actually executing the real maneuver with the other?

Keep a wary eye on the money story, but watch more closely for the twisting of nomination rules to allow for an "away from the convention" installation of either a Kerry substitute, or for the Hildebeest to saddle up for a V.P. ride on this glue-plug horse of a candidate.

Another option is holding the delegate vote at the convention but having Kerry put off his official acceptance of the vote, DNC spokeswoman Debra DeShong said, adding that there may be other possibilities.

The setup my friends, is blowing in the wind. The setup is blowing in the wind.

Sadly, time constrains me from a full take on this putrid, cynical and manipulative twisting of well understood and time-honored rules of campaigning.

The candidate becomes the nominee upon the delegate's vote at the convention. At least, that's the way it is supposed to work.

Until, and unless, one's party still twists in the wind, debating what the meaning of is, is!

What a sickening bunch of feckless asswipes.

The Granola State

The Dixie Chicks may have been embarassed that George W. Bush is from Texas. Big deal. I saw a bumper sticker on a Dodge Ram today that said "I'm embarassed that the Dixie Twits are from Texas."

But that's old news.

Myself, when I read about tripe you'll find in this link, I've gotta be a bit embarassed to have been born in California. What was once a proud and free state is now pretty much indistinguishable from a "people's soviet".

At least where the State Assembly is concerned, that is.

When I was a wee lad in the Golden Granola State, the worst gun law they had there was a (as I recall), fifteen-day waiting period on a handgun purchase. My, my...how things have changed!

Out on the Left Coast, Democrat foes of the Second Amendment want to ban gun shows from a taxpayer-owned property but keep allowing a porn expo.

"Foreplay got the nod over gunplay Wednesday by state senators deciding what types of shows to allow at the Cow Palace," the San Francisco Chronicle reported today.

Read the whole thing, as the saying goes.

Oh, Shit !!!

In well over eighty percent of aircraft crashes, those are the last words heard on the cockpit voice recorder.

Someone else said something wiser......

And the airplane didn't crash.

Welcome back, blog-sis... and happy landings, too!

I've Been Busy

And I really can't tell you why.

Yet. But I can tell you that the last three days have been well spent.

I've found that it's generally not a good idea to speculate about good news or favorable developments in my world. That is, until I drag the bird squaking, flapping and fighting from the bush, and have it firmly in hand.

I'll leave that metaphor to your fertile imaginations, but keep your fingers crossed for me.

Don't worry though, and I'll try to keep you more up to date on things as they develop.

Vote! Dammit, Vote EARLY and OFTEN !!!

Also noted on Misha's site, this gawdawful CNN poll.

They're among the worst of the Gun Fearing Wussies out there.

Look for the 2"x2" shaded box on the right. You know what to do!

GO VOTE RIGHT NOW!

And have everyone you know who is on our side, do the same.

I think this is the only time I could justify a chain mail, much as it pains me to say it.

See you at the polls, friends.

The Bottom Line

If you want to cut to the chase regarding the source of all of our problems with not only the Islamofascists, but much of the anti-American third world, then kindly be advised that Misha has reduced the complex to the brilliantly simple.

Engineers refer often to the concept that true design genius occurs when there is nothing left to take away from the structure. Misha's post illustrates that concept, and does so far better than a decade's worth of The N.Y. Times birdcage liner ever could.

Well, the only way to make them stop "hating" us would be for us to submit to them, to turn ourselves into something that we're not and to throw away 228 years of self-rule and meekly put a yoke on our backs yet again, a yoke that better men than all of us put together fought and died to throw off.

It simply cannot be said more clearly.

One Thousand

Last night, at 11:02 PM, Smoke on the Water received it's ONE THOUSANDTH COMMENT !!!

Thank you, Sir Mollbot, for your thoughtful follow up on the post Dishonorable Disharges. In your case, you've discharged your commentary duty most honorably, and have my sincere thanks.

E-mail me your snail-mail address, and a box of fifty rounds of .45 ACP ammo will soon arrive on your doorstep, courtesy of....

T's Guns and Ammo, Inc.
2212 Palmer Hwy.
Texas City, TX 77590
(409) 948-0101

Any of you who shoot large quantities of ammo at the range need to check these folks out. It's worth the phone call, as they don't quite have a website up yet.

They're a large scale commercial reloader and new-ammo manufacturer, loading and shipping well over one-hundred-thousand rounds per week. A family run business, they also have a small but impressive gun store on site.

< /shameless plug, off >

Back on 28 Nov 03, when I posted the first article here, I never imagined that I'd do much more than amuse myself with my random pounding on the keyboard.

Much less garner the readership that's developed, the friendships that've been made and the support and encouragement which y'all so freely give.

Thank you all, very, very much.

The Five Star Leiutenant

When you find something so remarkable that it takes three readings to absorb it's impact, then it's worth bringing here as truly a required reading item.

This, from a 2nd Lt. over in the sandbox.

I’ve come in from my third 18 hour patrol in as many days with a full beard and stared at a major in a pressed uniform who hasn’t left the wire since we’ve been here, daring him to tell me to shave. He looked at me, looked at the dust and sweat and dirt on my uniform, and went back to typing at his computer. I’ve stood with my men in the mess hall, surrounded by people who’s idea of a bad day in Iraq is a six hour shift manning a radio, and watched them give us a wide berth as we swagger in, dirty, smelly, tired, but sure in our knowledge that we pull the triggers, and we do what the Army does, and they, with their clean uniforms and weapons that have never fired, support us.

The man may only wear the gold bar, but his letter is absolutely Five Star writing.

Go and read it all.

(and just scroll down for a bit of humor from Dale's site, while you're there!)

Dishonorable Discharges

The Arterial Assassin otherwise known as Steve H., over at Hog On Ice has stepped away from the galley long enough to share his thoughts regarding Pvt. Lynndie England and her role in the Abu Ghraib fiasco.

Thoughts damned well worth reading. Steve knows what the meaning of is, is!

What a funny time we live in, when skeezes have such power over international affairs. Supposedly, the fat, vacuous Monica Lewinsky was indirectly responsible for a bombing campaign. Now a uniformed tramp threatens to take down the Secretary of Defense and give the Muslim world an excuse to unleash its poorly concealed hatred of the West.

Neither one of these women have the brains God gave a goose, but look at their influence on the world. I suppose in a way, it's a lesson for people who say the sexual morality of public servants is irrelevant to their fitness for duty.

Myself, I'm not qualified to vote for candidates for sainthood. I think it was Patton who said he doesn't trust a troop who doesn't drink, fuck n' fight. But what England and her herd of malewhores have been doing would bring Patton back from the dead, just so he could shoot them like he did the obstinate horses in the George C. Scott movie of fame.

What goes on in the bedroom, should stay in the bedroom. What went on at Abu Ghraib didn't belong there, or anywhere in my opinion. Except in front of a Courts Martial Panel, which is exactly where it now needs to be.

She's been accepting her share of discharges lately; all of them dishonorable.

The one the Courts Martial may impose will have a more lasting impact on her.

And that's a screwing that'll last her a lifetime.

The Troll Spews

Damn, what are the odds?

Something along the lines of SIX THOUSAND HITS, a DOZEN trackbacked links and over ONE HUNDRED non-trackbacked links to my post The Lessons Of Enemies.

And all I get is one lousy, cowardly troll in my e-mail? Well, not so cowardly so as to mail me from an un-returnable address, but damn sure too scared to face y'all in the comments section!

Oh well, let's dissect the carcass, shall we?

[email protected] writes an e-mail entitled: "You are the truly most ignorant repuke yet. . . ."

Wow. You really know how to flatter a guy!

The Good, The Bad, The Media

Shamelessley stolen from Four Right Wing Wackos.

While on the topic, let me invite you to read the following posts regarding the slaughter of Mr. Berg. Each is an excellent read.

Four Right Wing Wackos

The Anti Idiotorian Rottweiller

Baldilocks

Doc Russia

Serinity's Journal

Now then. Find that willfully ignorant, moonbatted liberal co-worker of yours, duct-tape 'em to their chair, and make 'em watch Mr. Berg being slaughtered, over and over and over again.

No, I don't care whether that makes 'em "get it" or not.

I just want them to have to face the fruits of their labors.

The Lessons of Enemies

There is really very little that can be said about the repugnant nature of the murderers of Mr. Nick Berg.

That they prove to the world over and over again that they're not worthy of the air they breathe, is no longer surprizing.

Doubtless, those who killed Mr. Berg are worthy of nothing more than a bullet and a bonfire. I wouldn't even dignify them with a burial.

But they're only one enemy. They're the obvious enemy, and of course they are the primary target. But there are other enemies, and many of them are your friends, your neighbors, your co-workers and sadly, even some in your families.

I have a message for you left-wing fucktards who've spent the last couple of weeks wringing your hands over the stupidity of a few troops in Abu Grhaib. Listen to me closely when I tell you this:

Friendly Fire

Well, I tried to reply in comments to Acidman's having taken umbrage at my commentary regarding Kim DuToit's marksmanship. Or lack thereof, as the Poodleshooter himself so described.

Sadly though, it seems that I'm comment-banned on Acidman's site, for reasons unbeknownst to me. Must have something in common with the troll's ISP that he banned earlier.

Oh, well.

No, I'm not the troll....but I'd wager that asswipe's ISP number starts with the same three numbers that my EV-1 account has.

But, I digress.

Rob, if you think that lil' ol' zing was abusing Sir Poodleshooter, well, just hang around Kim, myself, Doc Russia, The Squires Gang, Yellowlegs and Airboss the next time we get together to hunt the elusive South Texas Bowling Pin.

Be warned though. Insults, both aimed and self-inflicted, shoot forth at the same rate of fire as Airboss' Uzi on full auto.

But it's all in good fun.

And I'm sure that when it's my turn at the 400+ yard targets, Kim will be there to encourage laugh his ass off at me, too.

You don't have to have a cast iron ass to shoot with us, but it helps. Kevlar and asbestos might be more appropriate though.

Oh, and in case any of you wonder why the I'm refering to Kim as "The Poodleshooter" here...well, here's the photo he posted, so titled and on his own blog!

I rest my case!

On Target

Okay, so what do the rest of us do while Kim DuToit is up in Idaho, shooting at distant targets and missing them?

We go to a local range, and blow the center outta the "X" ring, that's what we do!

Alchemy

Turning lead into gold.

A dream of of ancient Kings, but one more truly realized by we, the Individual Sovereigns of these United States of America.

And its a simple process, really. Some steel, maybe a dash of aluminum, a bit of brass, frequently mixed with wood, polymers and in some cases, glass. Add a slug of lead, some interesting nitrates and blend with a generous dose of Newtonian Physics.

Every time I send that small chunk o' lead downrange, I'm reminded of the value of this freedom. It is a freedom paid for dearly, by way of the blood of patriots.

That price is being paid still, today.

By our troops, our police offiers and even by our private armed citizens.

I'll strike gold today though. Along with a select few brothers and sisters, I'll send a few hundred lead projectiles downrange. Even though the total weight of them will be but a couple dozen ounces, the return on the investment will be richer than Sutter's find at his mill.

The pursuit of Life, Liberty and Happiness. Just having the freedom to follow this quest is worth more than can be measured in mere coin. That freedom was bought with the blood of Patriots.

Every round I fire today will be a small payment to the interest of the debt of honor that I, and you, owe to those brave men and women who invested their very lives, so that we might live freely.

That debt cannot be paid in dollars, coin or even in gold.

But lead is Legal Tender in the commerce of freedom.

Gold, without freedom, is worthless. Today, I am free and rich beyond measure. I will enjoy the companionship of a precioius few other women and men who understand this uniquely American Alchemy.

I love the smell of gunsmoke in the morning.

It smells like freedom.

Better She, than Me!!!

Forget the fact that the frequency of my posting has been less reliable than any given utterance by John Fucking Kerry.

Don't get me wrong. I like my blog. I enjoy writing, and I treasure each and every response from y'all out there in net-land. My 'puter is fixed, I'm back online, and will be writing up a storm from now on.

But first, one condition. Log off my blog now, and go meet, or reacquaint yourself with the one and only Ms. Rachel Lucas.

She is truly, the Queen of all Blogs, and thankfully, she once again graces the Blogosphere with her incredible wit, insight, impudence, piquance and occasional flashes of ordnance.

I've missed Rachel, John, Digger and Sunny more than mere words can convey. Let me put it to you like this.

If not for Rachel; Smoke on the Water would never have been.

Go to her archives, listed by category. Feast therein.

Truly, a smorgasboard for the heart, mind and soul.

Surged

No, my extended absence has nothing to do with my previous post.

I should be so lucky!

Rather, I'm awaiting yet another 'puter repair to be completed. Strong storms Saturday night wiped out my modem. I had the PC protected through a surge-suppressor, but alas, an older one sans phone-line inputs and outputs.

The capcitor on the modem is visibly fried, and I'm fortunate that the PC itself wasn't hurt.

PC will be back tomorrow.

Guar-an-damn-tee-ya it'll be plugged in through all kinds of protection, this time!

Also, please don't think I'm ignoring anyone's e-mails. No way. I just don't have enough access time to get all the basis covered, until I get re-installed back on the boat.

That'll happen soon.

Thanks for hanging in here with me.

Jim