No Fear-

What began for me as a novelty line of shirts took on some new meanings as I viewed them later in life. At that time, I thought they were cool. Looking back, I see some were true, others never meant to be true for me and still others held deeper meaning now than they did then. It’s a matter of been there; been that; got the t-shirt first, instead of, “ Ain’t this old shirt cool?” When you do the things, live the life, experience the now, the right now I am here and I must persevere state of mind that brings you the now that is much later than the then that spawned the cliché’, you can reflect, recall, re-taste re-smell, re-feel a small part of that then that was now. No old photo can impart the taste and feel and smell of when you were there. A blurry photo of some trees and rain. It was a eucalyptus forest in a fresh rain. Red gum is different from white gum. To you a blurry photo of some trees in the rain. To me; the smell I have searched for in a thousand candle stores, only finding it once, in Sidney’s waterfront. It was a drive south of Sidney, Australia exploring a country I had never been to while talking on the phone to someone I had never met, except online, but would someday marry. Like being fascinated by the dimes placed on the table next to each of a number of friends gathered at the hawker center in Singapore and wondering it’s purpose. Stepping into the Vatican for the first time in awe of the design, the art of the building, the seething religiousness. Seeing the machine gun emplacements guarding the only road to Doljani from Jablanica. A rocket propelled grenade washed free by the spring runoff, leftover from the war. Well maybe… The fist of Prozor, as it looked over a city, and as it lay in rubble destroyed by 7 anti tank mines wired up inside. Workers sifting through rubbish covering a mass grave. Driving along the Dili road from Comoro as tires burned along the way, marking each spot where someone was killed during the “Indonesian time.” Walking along the wall in Washington DC, and wondering out loud how politicians dare to mess with our country, our freedom and independence, our pure Americanisms in the midst of all of this remembrance of greatness of sacrifice. And how we let them…
It all still means something…
SOME PEOPLE LIVE BUT NEVER REALLY EXIST.
IN MY WORLD THERE IS NO NEXT TIME, NO SECOND CHANCE. NO TIMEOUT.
THE EDGE IS A DANGEROUS PLACE TO LIVE, BUT THE BEST VIEW OF YOUR SOUL IS FROM BEYOND THE EDGE LOOKING BACK. FOR THOSE WHO CAN NOT UNDERSTAND, I CAN NOT EXPLAIN.
THERE IS NO RISK INVOLVED...IF YOU'RE GOOD.
THE PRICE OF LIVING IS DYING, EVERYBODY PAYS.
It’s all still true…
WE KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE; STANDING IN THE QUIET OF THE DAWN. ABSORBING THE ENERGY OF THAT BRIEF MOMENT OF TIME WHEN ALL IS STILL, THE AIR IS FRESH; THE MORNING MIST BEGINS its JOURNEY SKYWARD AS THE SHADOWS RETREAT, SHAMED BY THE LIGHT, COWED BY THE COMING SUN: THE BATTLE FIELD AWAKENS…

“You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."- Jack London

I should listen to that call. Been a busy 2 months Holy crap! It seems like at time the more you have to do the less time you have to do it. Sometimes I am a spectator, sometimes I am the player. Lately I have been watching myself be both. Several projects consumed my weekends and then the entertaining season hit, go here, do that, people coming… makes you want to lock the door and shut off all the lights. The “recession” it’s starting to look like Global warming, Oh sorry I mean “Climate change” after all we cannot demand our extortion for Global warming when it’s snowing so hard we cannot see across the street. So lets call it “Climate Change” that way we collect no matter which way the wind blows. ANYHOW! If you never saw the news and you kept your job, would you really have noticed a recession at the mall on Saturday? It’s not a recession, it’s “Position readjustment” everything shifted a little or a lot depending on where you were when it happened but the snowball rolled and a lot of leaves and dirt were picked up tossed around and redistributed. In the meantime, our government has tried the trailer trash/white trash/redneck way of fixing this problem. People are out of work and I barely have money for beer and cigs so, “LET’S BUY A NEW BASS BOAT!” and give it to the bank.

The commemoration of the things that go bump in the night.

Or just get candy and have high fructose induced comas.
It felt like all the kids were held behind starting gates until the stroke of official sunset, preparations made, sidewalk and street side conferences to coordinate the pre-/post handout activities and last minute scrambles to fill dishes drinks and chairs. The sun slowly makes its way to the horizon giving the typical Denver broncoesque finality to the day. Then the bells rang, and the gates opened in a Kentucky derby like start. Kids and adults swarm onto the sidewalks of the neighborhood. One moment the sidewalks were empty, the next, tiny swarms of mermaids, spidey- men, princesses, and pirates dragging glittery metallic bags of goodness speed trudged up the path, the clunk-swoosh-clunk of snow boots on dry pavement a tribute to parental preparation to send the brood out amongst the elements in search of manna from Mars (the candy people).
Folks in our area go with the kids; everybody sort of knows everybody; the ones with kids stroll along the fringe, while the little ones dart in and out and up and down the driveways. The age of the kids is gauged by the distance the parents keep. The younger they are, the closer the parents are. Most have an adult beverage to smooth the wait, as this is thirsty work, and refills along the way are frequent as we as hander-outers appreciate the need to refill. At each stop, the phrase “Did you say thank you?” repeated time after time; one must lubricate the vocal cords.
The returning mini Jedi surrendered the holy grails, the candy receptacles, to larger more capable hands. The older ones are out, alone or in bands speed treating their way to sugar induced nirvana. The lone rangers are faster more agile, they wait for no-one, they strike and move, whispers and ghosts on the ribbon of sidewalk connecting each source. One by one the porch lights go out as the supplies dwindle to nothing in the bowl.
And as they came; they suddenly disappeared…
How long we wait to confirm it is over is determined by many factors the most important being how cold/hot, wet it is compared to how comfortable we stayed. And like a ER trauma Doc we call it, it’s over, turn out the lights, determine the status of the pumpkin, do we leave out only to clean it up in the morning when round three hooligans smash it? Clean up, get inside, get warm, get dry, get cool, get whatever it is we get. Another one for the books…

So There I was...

It's the beginning of a lot of stories. Some true, some not. But all meant to top the story before, or of the day.

I sometimes think that's the new journalism. It is so because we said it was so, not because it is so. I read a headline yesterday that went something like "Federal agents shoot and kill Muslim leader during raid". Now if that was all I read, I would think "Gee those guys must have really been mad at him." Ruby ridge and Waco and all that.

So I read the sub headline.
Seems they were conducting a raid at some warehouse. Now I see churches in strip malls and old Safeway stores, so that didn't strike me as odd in and of itself. I read a little further... blah,blah, location Detroit, guys was an Imam and he's still dead.

OK that really says nothing about what the hell was going on to cause that type of reaction from supposedly trained federal cops. Of course I have been around some that I really wondered about but that's another story. paragraph 2 the imam was shooting at the agents Now there's a Homer Simpson moment! Why wasn't that in the headline? Something like "Guy shooting at cops who shoot back got killed" doesn't sell? Would to the guys around him. Bet they didn't shoot back after seeing the outcome of their buddy shooting at cops. People of all religions, races,economic standing, and sexual orientation understand -out numbered, outgunned, and I want to live. 11 surrendered, 1 did not. 11 are alive 1 is not. Cops 1, bad guy 0.

The point is the head line is not always the whole truth because the whole truth is not as sexy.
WHATS IN YOUR DRINKING WATER!!! Details at 11. Come to find out it the same stuff as always, some of this some of that, and if you pay attention, you discover how many millions of gallons you have to drink before it means anything. If we scare you, you will watch, you will read, and we will control your mind...Or maybe you will live long and prosper drinking tap water.

SNL said it best about the whole balloon boy thing when they announced on weekend update- a boy in Fort Collins hid in a box for several hours...
HMMPH, not so sexy, but that was the real story.(Yeah yeah Dad's a little whacked and some judge is going to smack him around for it.) SO hey it's illegal to profit from crime in Colorado, but if mom confesses and turns on dad, we can work a deal where mom doesn't get convicted, and we get to keep the money from the appearances and deals dad's working on.(Whoops I've discovered their evil plan!)

Hey if you want to divert attention from what you just got caught at; do a Sharpton/Jackson. I am not to blame, The system did it, it's because I am (Insert favorite cause celeb here) I am exploited. Always try to be the victim, not the suspect. If you hit the right cause at the right moment, maybe Jessie will run with it...

And remember kiddies:
The fall festival candy hand out is this weekend.
(don't want to scare anyone with themes of the undead commemoration day)

What’s my Party?

If checking a box on a form cements your destiny and brands you a certain ilk, then I have evolved from none of the above, to Independent, to Unaffiliated, to Republican, to Libertarian. Or in non political terms from do not care, to do not know, from my way or the highway, to let me live as I am, not as you will have me. The military made me rebellious. Being a Police officer made me righteous. Serving overseas turned me nationalist. So now I am a rebellious, righteously nationalist, lover of liberty.

If a political party exists for that, I am IN! On the other hand, I could just make my own party. I will call it the Just Americans party.
HERE IS OUR CHARTER:
We are not afraid to be, well, just Americans.
No apologies, no excuses, no fear of being called American, we are Americans.
We live to live.
We love to love.
There is nothing wrong with having an opinion about anything. However, certain aspects of life as of this writing have cropped up and this is our party stance:
We believe whatever we want to. If crackers go in soup, then a spade is a shovel. If not, that’s your opinion. It is only bad if you insist through application of some force that I see things your way, and not my way.
If you are gay or lesbian, we do not care. That is your business, not ours as a collective. Wanna get married? Then follow the definition of marriage as it was written. Wanna share everything with anyone and lose half at the end? Then lets call that a contract or something else. All the same benefits, all the same outcome. But quit trying to call a Rose a Gladiola. Both Flowers, both pretty, but DIFFERENT! Nuff said.
We decide what happens in and to ourselves, not you! WE decide.
We pay our own way and we do our own thing, and if we only burden ourselves, it is still none of your business.
We support a government based on our historical documents, and we have problems with the convoluted mess we have as of this writing. If we are paying your salary and you are failing us, you should be held accountable. If you cannot convince your own group of a path then pick a different path. We believe in paying our fair share to support Government as long as everybody does. And we mean everybody pays the same. Like the Fair Tax.
If you dress nice and look good and we admire you-be happy about it! We call em like we see em. Being honest is politically correct in our eyes.
We believe in liberty, we cherish freedom, we will help anyone who asks our help to achieve it. We will help you help yourself, because it the right thing to do.
If you harm us we will hunt you, our ire and our wrath will extend to those who would offer you shelter. We fight because YOU pissed US off, and it is our right. We accept the consequences of our actions, but before you assign blame for a problem, make sure you are not part of that problem.
OUT.

Rules of the road

Hang up and drive.
I can spot you from a mile away. You are the one going too slow, too fast, almost changing lanes, cutting people off, pissing people off. And worst of all you think you are good driver. That is probably what you’re telling the person on the other end!

Merge.
If you do not know how, let me offer this piece of advice. @#$%^&* LEARN! There, I said it.
Somehow this is a complex theological issue for some. Do I have the faith to go forward oh but I hesitate! No stop, No go, no straddle the lane line and brake, no wait, punch it swerve to the far lane where traffic moves the fastest and slam on the brakes before I hit something that really is not there.
First get a clue about the highway.
Accelerate smoothly to the anticipated highway speed at that time, turn on the signal thingy to let others know your approaching and your intent to ASK for entry. (guess what, I do not HAVE to let you in and cutting me off will only cause me to check the current state of my insurance and quite possibly bash your freaking side panels in).
Check your mirrors and LOOK to make sure you have room.
And while STILL ACCELERATING, smoothly move into the open space and maintain your pace with the traffic. Physics lesson: turning the wheels increases friction, which slows you down. You must accelerate slightly to overcome this while changing lanes and you may lose a car length in distance during your lane change if you do not. If I am allowing you in, that may be all the room you have to begin with. (And make sure the turn thingy is off.)
DO not think once you are there you can breathe a sigh of relief and slow to residential speeds, go with the flow. Look around, relax, turn the head-banger channel off and cruise.
If you decide you cannot handle it flip the thingy the other way and smoothly get off the highway.

Some more helpful suggestions:
ALL vehicles have turn signals. See if yours works. Then use it.
Did you really need to mash the brake pedal because someone 7 cars ahead did, when just taking your foot off the accelerator pedal would suffice?

After mashing said pedal do you now find it needful to mash the accelerator because it left a gap and feel the inherent need to fill the void and be a whisker from the vehicle in front of you at all times?
If I leave a 1or 2 car gap at the limit and it’s heavy traffic, that does not mean you are free to dart across three lanes, occupy that space, and mash the brakes. I will be tempted to become the person in the preceding line with my high beams on so you can see me.

Smooth is fast. I’ll say it again, Smooth is fast.
Oh and just to remind you …learn to merge.
If they are passing you on both sides, you are going too slow. In rush hour you may be driving at precisely the speed limit, but you have become the problem, GET OVER!

If you see no one in front of you and many behind- GET OVER! I do not care if you intend to turn at some point in the foreseeable future, when the time comes; you can merge and complete your turn until then travel in the lane meant for your speed.
If you see the vehicle in front of you has no one in front of it, and does not follow the previous advice, getting so close you can smell their farts is not the answer, back off and go around. The rest of us will thank you for not being the fool that rear ends them when they hit the brakes to avoid the spec of dust blowing across the road.

Just
Hang up and Drive.