Thursday - May 19, 2005
Good Grief!
Don’t any of you guys have jobs or anything to occupy your time? My posting crew really got busy today, I see. Stan just went ape-s**t and everybody piled on.
Actually, I’m glad someone took up the slack aboard the USS BMEWS. Your captain had his hands full all day building three major database instances on raw file systems on a terribly underpowered AIX server. If you don’t know .. don’t ask - it was painful, to say the least.
I just now got home and checked the blog and saw all the activity. Amazing. Simply amazing.
Anyway, I’m off to decompress so carry on men (and women). The Skipper is retiring to his cabin for the evening.
Did I mention I have a special surprise for this weekend? I didn’t? Well, shame on me. I have some pictures from last February’s Mardi Gras in New Orleans and a contest that was held to allow young ladies to .... ahem .... show their boobies. The ladies got into the spirit of the thing and painted their .... ahem .... breastesses up right nice. This ol’ sea dog got a charge out of the portfolio. Stay tuned ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/19/2005 at 06:33 PM
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Permalink • Sunday - May 08, 2005
This One’s For You, Mom
he phone rang at 4:22am, Friday morning, September 20, 1991, jarring me awake from a sound sleep. I groped for the light by the side of my bed, turned it on and picked up the phone. It was my brother, “Allan! Are you awake?”, he asked. “No, but I’m trying”, I replied cautiously. “Get up and meet us at the hospital. They just called and asked all of us to come down there immediately”, he stated in a somewhat agitated voice. “What’s wrong?, I inquired. “I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me. They just asked me to call you and Judy and get down to the hospital”, he replied. Somewhat uneasily I told him, “OK. I’ll meet you there in about fifteen minutes.
Hanging up the phone, I hurriedly got dressed, stumbled out the door into the dark, got in my car and drove to the hospital where my mother had been in ICU (Intensive Care Unit), and later in a private room for the last five days. I wondered what could be the matter? I had just talked to mom a few hours earlier. I had called her the previous night after I got out of class around 11:00pm and she seemed in good spirits. In fact, the hospital was supposed to release her today and we had talked about my taking her for another ride in my fast car .. among other things ....
I walked up the stairs to the nursing station and went up to the nurse’s desk. I told the nurse there who I was and she gently guided me to a private little office next to the nurse’s station, closing the door behind me. When I entered I saw the doctor standing there looking quiet and calm. My brother and his wife were off to my left, hugging each other and my sister walked up to me, grabbed me by the arm and said, “Allan .... Mom is dead.”
The world reeled around me, my legs turned to jelly, my knees buckled and I fell backward. Fade to black ....
veryone called her “Annie-Dee”, after her first name and her middle initial. She was born in 1927 in a small town in rural South Alabama just thirty miles north of the Florida border. The middle child of six children, she learned early that life was tough. The country was about to slide into the Great Depression but the rural South was already there and had been for decades. It would only get worse in the coming years.
Her daddy was a poor sharecropper with a mean disposition and his children were spawned by him for one purpose: to become farm hands. Cheap labor, so to speak. Every one of the children was sent to school as soon as they were old enough but granddaddy pulled each one of them out when they finished the Sixth Grade. He figured that was all the education they would ever need. Once out of school, they became farm hands, boys and girls alike. Everyone worked from sunup until sundown. Can any of you kids today imagine living with no electricity, having to pump water from a well and sharing a single outhouse with six brothers and sisters? If you wanted butter, you had to milk the cow and “churn” the milk. What you ate is what you grew. If crops were bad, you lost weight. In those days, this was the “poor folks diet”. This is the life Annie-Dee was given. It had to get better.
After 1945, the boys came home from World War II to find Annie-Dee and the other “girls” still working the farms all by themselves. One of these “good ol’ boys”, who had served in the infantry under General Patton in Europe, caught her eye and in 1946 they got married. She immediately became pregnant. The pregnancy ended suddenly a few months later when a mule spooked while she was sitting on the back of the wagon the mule was hitched to, throwing her to the ground and fracturing her hip, causing a miscarriage. If not for that mule, I would have not been her oldest child. I wonder what my older sister would have been like? That is why I cannot condone abortion. The birth of each human being is too special to just throw away in a premeditated manner. But I digress. This is not about me. It is about my mother.
Anyway, to make a long story short, her husband proved to be a hard-drinking, con-artist who gambled away every paycheck he ever got. Running away from the law for writing bad checks is how I came to be born in North Carolina in 1949. After a year of abuse and starvation of both her and me, mom decided to pack up and head back to Alabama, where she filed for divorce - something that was unheard of in those days. A year after that, another WWII veteran came chasing after her. He had served in the Army Air Corps and was now in that new bunch called the “Air Force”, planning on a career in the military. My mother was an extremely beautiful woman in those days. It is no wonder the guys couldn’t stay away. That marriage lasted until 1978 when “dad” died of leukemia. He is the only father I ever knew. I never saw or heard from my natural father.
Which kinda brings us up to 1991. My mom and I had always been close but never very affectionate with each other. She always had a distance about her that was hard to break through by anyone. Tough life .. tough ol’ broad, as some would say. I loved her dearly but never told her so because I was afraid she would be embaressed or laugh at me .... until the night before she died.
She had a massive heart attack on September 15, 1991. She called me early that Sunday morning and asked me to come pick her up and take her to the hospital. I quickly figured out that something was dreadfully wrong with her so I burned up the roads getting to her house and getting her to the hospital (in the “fast car"). The doctor’s only confirmed what I already knew. For the next five days, she appeared to be getting better and the hospital said they would release her that Friday.
At that time, I was working full-time and taking classes at nights and weekends at a local university to complete my Bachelor’s (and later Master’s) degree in Computer Science. I got out of class around 11:00pm and called her before going to bed that Thursday night (as I had been doing every night, all that week). We talked for nearly an hour, remembering good times and of course I had to tell her about my classes. As I started to hang up, a weird sensation came over me and I before I said goodbye I blurted out, “Mom .. I love you.” Silence from the other end. I held my breath and waited anxiously. Then a small voice came back that will reverberate in my mind until the day I die, “I know, Allan. I know. I have always loved you and you have always loved me.”
That was the last anyone ever heard from Annie-Dee. Sometime in the wee hours of that Friday morning, the whole front wall of her heart, which had been badly damaged by the attack on Sunday, literally “blew out”. She died suddenly, in her sleep. I am happy that I was able to finally tell her how I really felt and proud that the last thing she heard in this world was an expression of love.
I realize this was quite a long piece and was very personal (this will be my only post today - Mother’s Day) but I have an audience of thousands of people each day here and I need to get this message out to you all: love your mother and don’t be afraid to tell her you do. Call her today and talk to her. Send her some flowers .... and don’t just do it once a year either. You never know when you will be in my shoes. Will you be able to be at peace, as I am?
Pardon me but I have cried a river while writing this piece. I need to mop up the mess on my desk and keyboard. Here is a final flower for my mom, who sits with God. I hope she can read this and is proud of me. I’ll see her again one fine day ....
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
And form so soft, and charms so rare,
Too soon return’d to Earth!
Though Earth receiv’d them in her bed,
And o’er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.
I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow,
So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove
That what I lov’d, and long must love,
Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
‘T is Nothing that I lov’d so well.
-- George Gordon, Lord Byron
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/08/2005 at 04:22 AM
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Permalink • Friday - May 06, 2005
Stay Tuned ….
This Sunday is Mother’s Day. I have a special post planned for a very special woman who has passed away but who made me the man I am today. Are you planning anything special for the woman who brought you into this world?
I hope you’ll join me on Sunday, May 8 for a very special tribute to .... my mom (and maybe yours too).
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/06/2005 at 06:47 PM
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Permalink • Thursday - May 05, 2005
Important Bulletin!
The Skipper will not be wearing pants tomorrow. You ladies have been warned ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/05/2005 at 07:56 PM
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Permalink • Memo To Steel Turman:
Bad news, ol’ buddy. Phoenix says if you don’t get well and get your dumb ass back here and talk to us, she is going to have to go running back to the arms of “Raymond” and his gorgeous gourds ....
Yikes! Steel, I’m begging you to get up off your sick bed and save this woman from a fate worse than death. Jeez! This ugly dude’s got some big, hairy gourds. Are you up for a battle for the ladie’s hand? If not, we will witness a tragedy ....
Developing ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/05/2005 at 05:48 PM
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Permalink • Important Bulletin
All right! Enough is enough. Right now, two of my blog-friends are down and out in pretty bad health .. OldCatMan and Steel Turman. I’ve had enough of this crap. You grumpy old farts need to take better care of yourselves. OCM is having surgery today to correct a pinched nerve from his auto accident a few months ago. Steel is under the weather too. Both are in need of a little cheering up. I’ll keep you all updated but for now just pray for these two infidels.
Posted by The Skipper
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Permalink • Wednesday - May 04, 2005
Hot Date!
OK, I’m ready to bare all (well, almost all). Here is the diary entry of my date with Myles Longue ....
My Date with Myles Longue
It was during my sophomore year at NYU when I was feeling depressed over a poor grade on an exam, that I decided to give my old high-school friend D. a call. Sure enough, the conversation got to men. D. was attending a local college on Long Island, and was dating Jean Paul, a Eurotrash Iranian guy, as it turned out.
Posted by lisar915
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Permalink • Tuesday - May 03, 2005
Flashback !
Steel’s stories that he has posted here and on his own blog site have entertained me greatly. So has Stan and his stories from Austin and the music stars he sees regularly. Then, a few days ago somebody mentioned here on the blog that they remembered Steppenwolf and how great the band was. Well, the Ol’ Skipper has a story for you ....
Fire up the Wayback Machine and let’s go back to November 16, 1968:
Several important forces of nature came together at the Orange Bowl stadium in Miami, FL on that date. Yours truly (that would be me, matey) was a sophomore at the University Of Alabama, majoring in Music and doing my damndest to keep my grades up to avoid having to join my father in Vietnam. Dad was an aircraft mechanic in the USAF and, at that point in time, was a Sr. M/Sgt doing his first tour in Vietnam (out of a total of three before he retired in 1971 after 30 years in the US Army Air Corps and the US Air Force).
Since I was majoring in Music, it was more or less expected of me that I march in the world famous University Of Alabama Million Dollar Band, which at that time was under the direction of Colonel Carlton K. Butler. Col. Butler was the band’s equivalent of Bear Bryant, who was in his second decade of coaching at Alabama, while Colonel Butler had been around since the Civil War (according to rumor).
Back in those days, the TV networks used to show the university bands during halftime and every university’s band director worked the band members ot death to come up with all kinds of new and flashy gimmicks, music and formations. Nowadays, all you folks get is Janet Jackson’s breast. What a come down.
Anyway, Colonel Butler had us out on the practice field until midnight or later the week before the Miami game because we had been told the game would be televised. We marched in the cold and rain until our feet hurt and half of us were sick by the time we boarded the buses Friday afternoon for the ride from Tuscaloosa to Miami. We got into Miami late that night and found ourselves in hot, muggy 80 degree heat. Needless to say almost all of us crashed out immediately. Except a few of us, including myself and a cute little brown-haired, sexy, female saxophone player. We walked all over the beaches, played in the surf and dragged back into the hotel about sunrise. Only to have to get a rude awakening about four hours later and ordered to get on the buses to head for a practice field for more drills.
The day passed in mind-numbing repetitions and Colonel Butler screaming his head off at us. He had decided that we would definitely not embaress him on national TV and would perform a halftime show that would knock everyone’s socks off. You see, Colonel Butler had a brainstorm. Not a little drizzle, or a light misting but a genuine “frog-strangler” or a “gully-washer” as they are sometimes called. Here’s the surprise he had planned. He divided the band up into four “blocks” of about 80 or 90 each. The full Million Dollar Band back in those days consisted of over 300 members - and NO MAJORETTES because Colonel Butler insisted that we were musicians and we didn’t need half-nekkid floozies to attract attention, as he put it. The University Of Alabama never did get majorettes until the late 1970’s, long after Colonel Butler retired. Anyway, I digress. Colonel Butler’s plan was to have each “block” rehearse our individual positions when we formed all the numbers from zero to nine, thereby having four “blocks” that could give any combination of numbers. The plan was for us to be given signals at halftime by Colonel Butler so that we would go out on the field and form up in formations giving the score, the time and the temperature. It was a brilliant concept but hell on the band. In addition to memorizing all or our music (Colonel Butler wouldn’t allow us to take sheet music in mounts on our instruments onto the field during any halftime show - the man was a monster, I tells ya), we also had to memorize several possible combinations of formations and not know which one we would use until right before going onstage.
Finally, around 5:00pm we were told to get suited up, clean up our instruments and get ready to rumble. Colonel Butler gave us the normal pep talk and we loaded up onto the buses and headed for the Orange Bowl. The rest, as they say, is history.
Notice the date above that all this occurred? Well, about halfway through the first quarter, a special announcement came over the stadium sound system. It seems the Alabama and Miami fans were about to be joined by .... the President-Elect. You guessed it .. Richard “Tricky DIck” Nixon. He had won the 1968 election only a week before the game (November 5, 1968) and had been resting at his Key Biscaine (sp) home. Good Ol’ Dick decided to get out and get some fresh air and enjoy a football game with us. There was a stirring from one of the tunnels above us and suddenly a large crowd of crew-cut, beefy looking men came pouring out and surrounded the new President who took a seat about 10 rows above us. Needless to say, we spent most of the game turning around and scoping out the new Prez. None of us had voted for him, although every one of us was over 18 - at that time, you had to be 21 to vote (but you could be drafted at the age of 18, which was my personal “bone of contention” with the establishment). Anyway, most of us supported Nixon because he had promised to end the war in Vietnam and the Dummycraps had made such asses out of themselves in Chicago only a few months before (that’s another story for another day).
Finally, as halftime approached we all started to get nervous. We were going to be performing for the President Of The United States. What a rush! Unfortunately, right before we got up to go on the field Colonel Butler gave us some bad news. It seems we had been asked to cut a few minutes off of our halftime show because the City Of Miami had arranged a special entertainment for the President at the halftime. So we had to cut the fancy time & temperature stuff and hustle off the field a few minutes faster than normal. Then came the big surprise ....
The stadium lights dimmed, except for a platform mounted above the end zone opposite the scoreboard where bright floodlights were shining. Everyone turned to stare and wait .... then the announcer introduced the “special entertainment” for the evening .... Steppenwolf, performing live for all the fans. Yessir, the band was up there on that little platform and immediately fired up “Born To Be Wild”. We started dancing. That was the coolest moment of my life at that point.
As I said, the rest is history. I came back from Miami and wound up in the university hospital with double pneumonia and a diagnosis of bronchial asthma that eventually kept me out of Vietnam. I married that little saxophone player the following summer and we eventually had two sons before getting divorced in 1981. Richard Nixon won re-election in 1972 and was chased out of Washington after Watergate by a dumbass bunch of Dummycraps. Colonel Butler retired in 1971. Alabama beat Miami that night 14-6 and went on to a 8-3-0 season, losing to Missouri in the Gator Bowl on New Years Day. And Steppenwolf? Well, I still have all their albums .... vinyl .... 33 1/3 .... GOD DAMN THE PUSHER MAN!
Posted by The Skipper
on 05/03/2005 at 03:22 PM
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Permalink • Thursday - April 28, 2005
Nightcap
The skipper is going to go rest and watch TV for the rest of the evening (it’s been a monster of a day at the office) but I wanted to leave you with something to chew on tonight. Read the information below and ponder how it affects you and if you agree with it. I’ll tell you tomorrow where it came from (although several of our readers may already guess) ....
- Reality exists as an objective absolute—facts are facts, independent of man’s feelings, wishes, hopes or fears.
- Reason (the faculty which identifies and integrates the material provided by man’s senses) is man’s only means of perceiving reality, his only source of knowledge, his only guide to action, and his basic means of survival.
- Man—every man—is an end in himself, not the means to the ends of others. He must exist for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself. The pursuit of his own rational self-interest and of his own happiness is the highest moral purpose of his life.
- The ideal political-economic system is laissez-faire capitalism. It is a system where men deal with one another, not as victims and executioners, nor as masters and slaves, but as traders, by free, voluntary exchange to mutual benefit. It is a system where no man may obtain any values from others by resorting to physical force, and no man may initiate the use of physical force against others. The government acts only as a policeman that protects man’s rights; it uses physical force only in retaliation and only against those who initiate its use, such as criminals or foreign invaders. In a system of full capitalism, there should be (but, historically, has not yet been) a complete separation of state and economics, in the same way and for the same reasons as the separation of state and church.
Hint: This philosophy began with Aristotle who woke up one day and decided that “A = A” and “A <> ¬A". Mathematicians in our audience will know what that all means.
Update: A few have guessed the source. If you want to read more, you’ re in for a treat. Read this post that I put on the blog last year.
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/28/2005 at 07:36 PM
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Permalink • Sunday - April 24, 2005
Let It Be ….
Many of you may have wondered why I asked the first question in the “Deep Thought” post below. Judging from the answers I received, some of you may have guessed my motive for throwing that question in. For those who guessed that I am still saddened by the loss of Vilmar and have been wracking my brain to come up with a way to heal the split between us .... you are correct. I read all of your answers, thought it over for quite some time and even talked to a few of you on the phone.
Swallowing one’s pride is never easy. Apologizing for something that you feel is not entirely your fault is even harder. Reaching out to a lost friend who insists on rebuffing your every entreaty is the hardest of all. I have done all of that today and have been unsuccessful it seems. On the surface, it seems Vilmar and I can remain friends but I don’t expect to hear from him any time soon.
I am posting here the e-mail exchange between Vilmar and myself today in the hope that everyone here who remembers Vilmar will finally let the matter go. I am asking everyone to please stop hounding me about Vilmar and asking me what happened and where he is. Let it be, OK? Just let it be ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/24/2005 at 07:05 PM
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Permalink • Wednesday - April 20, 2005
Checking In
Well, I finally made it back to St. Louis tonight. I’m sitting here in the hotel room on the laptop, catching up as best I can (738 e-mails to sort through - even after being cleaned of spam by MailWasher Pro). Movers packed up all my “stuff” and it is now in motion, coming this way. It has magically turned into “shit” while in transit . On Thursday, they will deliver my “shit” and after a few days of unpacking and sorting out, it will turn back into “stuff” again.
Right now, I’m so damned tired I can barely move. In the last three weeks: (1) 2500 miles driving back and forth, (2) a full week’s work at a new job, (3) driving all over St. Louis looking at apartments, (4) helping the movers pack and cleaning up my house in Alabama (sweeping, mopping, scrubbing & vacuuming). I’m gettin’ too old for this shit!
In a week or so, I will have time to regain control of the blog but for right now the anarchy here seems to be alright. Kudos to Stan, Frank, OCM and Barb (and TBR) for a job well done. Keep up the good work, gang!
For those who tried to figure out the C code in the post below, yes it is real code and will compile, albeit with complaints from just about any C compiler. It was one of the finalists in the 1986 Annual C Obfuscation Code Contest. It was awarded a special prize for the “Most Abusive Of LINT”. If you don’t know what “lint” is (and I’m not talking about the stuff in your belly button), then don’t ask. I compiled it on my Red Hat Linux Enterprise Server using “gcc” and got two errors (actually just complaints from “lint") but it still compiled. C++ compilers from MickeySoft can’t handle it.
Anywho, I’m almost settled in here (maybe a week or two get actually comfortable). I made it back just in time. The Cubs are in town tomorrow and Thursday against the Cardinals. You already know who I’m rooting for (GO CUBBIES!).
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/20/2005 at 12:21 AM
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Permalink • Friday - April 15, 2005
Adios
Well,little city slickers! This here ol’ cowpoke is about to ride off into the sunset and over that ridge over yonder. I’m off on my ol’ hoss, who ain’t got no name .... see y’all on t’other side ....
On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/15/2005 at 06:37 PM
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Permalink • On Leave
Yours truly has decided to take some leave and let the relief troops take over the front-line for a while. I have a busy week ahead and it was suggested that I assign “temporary posters” to the site. They will be known as “TEMPERS” so don’t mess with them too much. There are four of our members who spent the previous night watching their armor in the chapel and have received the benediction of the Bishop and been annointed knights by the King (c’est moi). They have received their orders from the Lady Of The Lake (a watery tart) and will be posting for your amusement.
I will see you good folks on the other side, somtime next week or the week after. For now, allow me to present your hosting team:
Stanley (nephew of Jimmy Dean and an Austin, TX landmark)
Frank (hiding in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia, just out of reach of DC)
Steel (my buddy out in Reno, Nevada who has his own blog and more stories than you can imagine)
Finally, the least expected member of the team .... are you ready .... are you sure ....
OldCatman (the weirdest head of them all, hiding in Colorado)
That should give you all something to talk about. If you have anything to post, I would suggest sending it to Stanley. He has way too much free time on his hands lately since the Annual SPAM-O-RAMA in Austin is over a month away (yes, it’s an actual festival dedicated to the infamous lunch meat).
Peace be upon all of you. I shall return ..................
Update: Annoying Little Twerp (Chicago mad-woman) has been added to the list of “TEMPERS”. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/15/2005 at 09:08 AM
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Permalink • Blog Status
How many of you have the balls to put your life on display out here on the blogosphere? How many of you have the time to devote to researching news and writing editorials while holding down a full-time job? How many of you are thick-skinned enough to survive the constant attacks of poseurs and pissants, asshats and anal-retentive mental midgets? How many of you can handle the web interface of a blog and keep spammers at bay? Finally, how many of you can handle a partner stabbing you in the back, then running away leaving his friends to attack you while he snickers in his garden at the trouble he is stirring up?
I haven’t asked for pity (have no use for it) or for much of anything during the recent crisis here. I have quietly tried to bury the incident and continue on as best as possible, in spite of the fact that I am in the process of moving my household 500 miles and starting a new job. Unfortunately, some of my former partner’s surrogates have decided to come here and make bloody nuisances of themselves, both on the blog and in my e-mail. Forget it, people.
(1) No one forced Vilmar to tinker with the blog and break things he shouldn’t have been tinkering with, (2) his reasons for leaving amounted to one thing only: hurt pride at being restricted to posting and editing privileges, (3) he resigned, he was not forced to leave, (4) repeated efforts to beg him to return were rebuffed, (5) he has not been banned, he simply chooses to be silent and let his surrogates start trouble here.
In short, up until now I have bore no ill will to Vilmar but my patience is fast running out. If Vilmar and his friends in Central Florida are so angry at me, explain why. If they have no reason, then they are invited to fuck off and go start their own blog. But a word of warning to anyone who works with Vilmar .... be careful because just when you need him to take up the slack he will let you down.
Comments? Go ahead and let her fly ....
Posted by The Skipper
on 04/15/2005 at 06:16 AM
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On: 07/09/17 03:07
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THE SERVICES AND MATERIALS ON THIS WEBSITE ARE PROVIDED "AS IS" AND THE HOSTS OF THIS SITE EXPRESSLY DISCLAIMS ANY AND ALL WARRANTIES, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, TO THE EXTENT PERMITTED BY LAW INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF SATISFACTORY QUALITY, MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE, WITH RESPECT TO THE SERVICE OR ANY MATERIALS.
Not that very many people ever read this far down, but this blog was the creation of Allan Kelly and his friend Vilmar. Vilmar moved on to his own blog some time ago, and Allan ran this place alone until his sudden and unexpected death partway through 2006. We all miss him. A lot. Even though he is gone this site will always still be more than a little bit his. We who are left to carry on the BMEWS tradition owe him a great debt of gratitude, and we hope to be able to pay that back by following his last advice to us all:
It's been a long strange trip without you Skipper, but thanks for pointing us in the right direction and giving us a swift kick in the behind to get us going. Keep lookin' down on us, will ya? Thanks.
- Keep a firm grasp of Right and Wrong
- Stay involved with government on every level and don't let those bastards get away with a thing
- Use every legal means to defend yourself in the event of real internal trouble, and, most importantly:
- Keep talking to each other, whether here or elsewhere
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Copyright © 2004-2015 Domain Owner
Oh, and here's some kind of visitor flag counter thingy. Hey, all the cool blogs have one, so I should too. The Visitors Online thingy up at the top doesn't count anything, but it looks neat. It had better, since I paid actual money for it.
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