David Duke

David Duke endorsed Donald Trump. For the uninformed David was the Grand PooBah of the KKK some years back. He’s from Louisiana, which never helps, and he ended up being a senator of sorts, and apparently has a master’s degree. Whenever you mention the KKK everyone’s hair catches on fire, as opposed to the crosses I suppose. Duke runs a website where he expounds his theory on race. I have watched one of his videos, European Awakening, and I’m going to be up front, I like it. My reasons are simple. With Black Lives Mattering, and Muslim awareness, Hispanic pride, and all the rest, it was refreshing to see statues of Greeks, pretty German girls, and the architecture of Europe. It’s not against the law to be white. That having been said, the video ends with something about our DNA being a spiral to the stars.

Let’s look at racism. First off, we all have it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, humans tend to be attracted to people who look like them, and more or less suspicious of people who don’t. Dogs and cats do the same thing. It’s called “survival.” Back in the day, when we all lived in caves, the first thing you learned was if you wander into another cave you had a fair to midland chance of being supper. Hey, ice age, times were hard, wooly mammoth run fast! So we have all inherited that DNA. Learn it, live it, love it.

So, you take this trait that is ingrained in our DNA, and tell people who are unhappy with their situation that those folks over there who don’t look like them are the reason they are in the pickle they currently not enjoying. David is very good at this. He pumps up the white pride thing, and then slowly, insidiously blends in a little, shall we call it “suspicion?” Now David doesn’t really go off against the blacks, but he really has a thing for Jews. I’m just aSimple Ol’ Boy From Austin, but aren’t the Jews white folks too? I do not believe that there is a huge conspiracy of Jews to take over the world. If they tend to hang together it’s probably because that Kraut back in the 1930’s and 40’s herded them all into ovens with a new recipe for Wienerschnitzel.   And, yeah, yeah, yeah, I just called Hitler a Kraut, but I’m a Kraut, too, so deal with it! There’s also some cat who calls himself “Brother Nathaniel” out there on YouTube who packs it to the Jews on every opportunity.

David Duke was in the Klan. It seemed like the thing to do at the time, he was a new look for the organization, and eventually moved away from it. Now, I’m from Louisiana, David is from Louisiana, and I’m going to tell you something that you won’t believe. I have never seen a Klansman in person in my life. Matter of fact, I’ve never seen a Black Panther either. When you watch the Main Stream Media, you’d think these people are everywhere. Well, they’re not. Back in the ‘30’s they paraded around in sheets and hoods, burned crosses, and wavedAmerican flags. Then came the civil rights movement, and those three kids found buried in a levee over in Mississippi. Ok, let’s get real. Don Whomever dumped his enemies in the East River wearing cement overshoes. That’s because he was a gangster just like the so-called Klan of 60’s fame, which has virtually nothing to do with the movement rising up just after the Civil War. It’s just like this “Illuminati” crap. I get a lot of entertainment by watching conspiracy theorists trying to draw a line from some bunch of knights in the twelfth century to a weird stone wall in Georgia and make claims that the Clintons are related to the Bushes, and want to exterminate mankind in order to maintain control of the world.

“This is the business we’ve chosen,” uttered Roth in Godfather II. Well, identification with the Klan is the business David Duke chose. He self-identified with them, and it will follow him for the rest of his life.  People do grow. If we are normal, what we burned in our crazy minds when we were twenty will not fit into our world view when we are sixty. Now for the politics. Remember when I told you about the Trump Southern Strategy? We are seeing numbers filter in that demonstrates that the numbers in tomorrow’s Super Tuesday will lean heavily toward Donald Trump. If he makes a sweep of delegates it will prove out, and remember you heard it here on the Tea Party Tribune first, and not from Alex Jones or, God forbid, Glenn Beck! Guess what people; over ninety percent of southern republicans are white! There is a sprinkling of working, responsible black people who are just as fed up with the democrats as the whites are so you should see the field of contestants narrow considerably by supper on Tuesday.

Why didn’t Donald Trump rebuke the Duke? Because that would derail his Southern Strategy, that’s why. Though they won’t admit it, even rednecks can be politically correct, and there is a whole bunch of people from Tallahassee to Shreveport who pray in David’s direction five times a day, and they are bone tired of white lives not mattering. Oh, remember back in the first of this article that I said that David Duke knows how to capitalize on people who are unhappy for whatever reason? Well, the “Donald” knows how to do that, too. <Wink>

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

Arrested For Driving While Blind

Arrested for driving while blind. Friends and neighbors, brothers and sisters, that old ZZ Top line is about the only thing I haven’t done, and I’ve done it all. If there is anything I missed, it’s only because no one told me about it. If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck. I have been in country music for forty plus years, and I mean the real music business. I wasn’t just hanging around some bar, hoping my family might drop in and hear me play a guitar, I was a writer, and I wrote my way all the way to Nashville. Unless you’ve been living under a big yellow rock you’ve probably heard something I have written.

My mother once told me that if I ever hurt a decent girl she’d beat me to death with an iron skillet, so for the first four marriages (yeah, I said four) I married sluts. Number five was a thirty year ordeal, where I kept trying to leave, and she kept following. We finally divorced, but she wouldn’t let me leave, so here I am. As time and tears went by I began to settle down. There were two major factors contributing to this: One, I got too damn old, and two, I got tired of making bail. Somehow I came through all of this with my health, which is a miracle, because I quit drinking when they invented the funnel. Today I will still take a little Jim Beam, but nowhere near my glory days. I’m partial to a martini.

So where am I going with all of this? It’s simple actually. I see people all the time living in the past. They had a bad childhood. Let me tell you about a bad childhood. I am certified white trash. The first time I saw a fruit display on a formal table I tried to eat the wax apple. I hear someone on Doctor Phil going on and on about an abusive father, but let me school you, my dad was a roofer in Texas for thirty years, and being a roofer in Texas is about as bad a job as you can get, if you don’t count being a slave. My dad wouldn’t whip us, he’d knock us through the wall. Good news was that we were quick, and he only had to knock us throughone wall for us kids to catch on. We were so poor we thought the people on welfare had government jobs because they had a check!

Human beings become better through ordeal. Steel becomes stronger through tempering. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Texas has never been easy. This is hard country out here. Our wages are low, and our hours are long, but we know the deal. You really have to believe in God, because if you don’t then none of this makes any sense. I couldn’t understand a word of the Bible until I was thirty-five years old. We had that old King James Version, and with all the “Thees” and “Thous” I just couldn’t connect the dots. Life connected the dots for me. I began to realize that if you cast your bread upon the water you’d get back a sandwich.

Writers are a special lot. For me, writing is therapy. As the words form on the page I vocalize, and when I vocalize, I begin to see the logic, and understand not only other people, but my own situation. I don’t believe in all this psychiatry stuff, and theories, or drugs, or mind control. I believe that most thinking people, over fifty years, can figure out what hurts, and what doesn’t hurt. You begin to see that there is room in the world for other ideas, and just because you don’t agree with them, they are just ideas. When I hear a liberal expounding some whacky “Bernie Sanders” plan, I know it won’t work, but rather than go tit for tat I understand that it’s all fine because good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, they’ll have the same fifty years that I had to figure it all out. It’s all so simple. This will put a meal on the table, and that won’t.

I do understand the Bible now, but there’s a lot of “fluff” in it. The truths that Jesus spoke of were down to earth facts. Don’t judge. I never judge! When someone does something that I think is bad, I’ll just remember back when I did exactly the same thing, and be glad the statute of limitations has run out. We have all fallen short of the glory, and I fell short the day the doctor said, “Hey,” and I said, “Huh?”

It all boils down to this: You get what you expect. If you dwell in the past you will always be there. If you set goals, no matter how remote, you may not get there, but you’ll be on the way, and the journey is half the joy. We all make mistakes. What seemed so serious back then, will just be funny as you recount it to a friend at a local pub. The sad part of life is if you live long enough to figure it out then you’ll come to the same conclusions that I did after you are old, and young people have it all “figured out,” and will not listen as they begin their journey toward “the truth.”

If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck, because I’ve done it all, and if there’s anything I missed it’s only because no one told me about it, and I’m man enough to admit it! I’ve found one person who totally understands me. She sleeps with me, eats with me, agrees with everything I say, and cries when I’m away. In the spirit of the recent Supreme Court ruling on marriage I have decided to marry my dog.

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

Teddy Bear and the Trump Machine

Let me tell you a story called Teddy Bear and the Trump Machine.  I have a friend. Not going to tell you his name, just call him, “Teddy Bear.” Teddy Bear has a talent. He gets into places where people don’t want him to get into. Whenever anyone tries to keep him out it just tweaks his interest, and he digs all the harder. And Teddy will work for anyone, the Pope, cartels, mothers against condoms, it don’t matter, Teddy is there. I’ve known Teddy for forty years, and he’s my best friend.

Teddy has a perfect cover, and no, I’m not going to tell you what it is, but suffice to say it gets him around, and gives him access when no one expects it. Oh, and Teddy has a doctor’s degree. He just don’t look like it. Now, let me ask you a question. Think back on how many Trump campaign signs you’ve seen. Take your shoes off if you need to, but you won’t have to. I haven’t seen one! Stadiums full of people, and not one bumper sticker.

In this country there are byways, and hiways. The interstate system binds the major population areas, but there is another system that we tend to ignore. All those little two lane farm to market roads that connect the rest of the country.  You’ve seen them. Those places you veer off from the interstate because of some detour, end up in some town called Centerville, and you fill ill at ease going through the one blinking light that graces the downtown. In those towns lies the answer to the results of the 2016 presidential election.

In those towns you will see signs of Donald Trump. In those towns you will see people sitting on rocking chairs, chewing on straws, watching as you pass by, and they know that you’re not one of them. In those towns the silent majority isn’t keeping quiet anymore. So, Teddy Bear stops for a burger in Centerville. He comes upon a parking lot full of RVs, busses with trailers behind them, men with suits, and walkie talkies, and tons of people chewing on straws, looking at you. He asks what the occasion is, and in short order he’s told that it’s none of his business. Taking the cue, he moves away. Teddy always obliges, at first, but he eases back to see just what’s in the trailers full of paper. Wanna know what was in those trailers? Donald Trump!

Floor to ceiling, stem to stern, Trump paraphernalia with all the frills. All bound for every business, home, drug store, school, and graveyard and barber shop in rural America. Within ten days, Teddy Bear saw this from Florida to Ding Dong, Texas.  The south is saturated. What does this mean? What will it matter in the final run? Well, I’ll tell you. Ted Cruz, Bernie Sanders, Hillary, and all the rest are playing by the rules they’ve always known. When the south chimes in, or right before, they’ll all run down there and start talking the talk, trying to lure what they think are ignorant votes to their side. Well, by the time they get there the Donald has already been there, done that, and the fat lady has already sang.

Trump has won victories now, and he’s not just a reality TV star, he is the nominee apparent. Forget Cruz, forget Rubio, Forget Sanders, and forget Hillary. Trump will trump them. I think he may be funding Hillary just so he can run against her, and not Sanders. She’s a joke. If you don’t believe that, then you’re a joke. The South will rise up in one solid block and hand the White House to Donald Trump. It’s as simple as that. In Their arrogance, the large metropolitan areas believe that they rule the roost, but there is more corn whiskey than champagne.

The busses I told you about were huge. Entire parking lots of them. Tons of literature. Hundreds of staff. This is so simple, yet so dynamic. Teddy Bear hacked their walkie talkies, and the chatter was incredible. While Donald Trump is filling the stadiums of major cities these ground troops are securing the election for him. We’ve seen the Bush era pass this week. We will see the Clinton era ride off into the sunset. You’d better start swimming, or you’ll sink like a stone, because times they are a changing!

 

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

That Was The Week That Was

Week that was this week started slow. I was battling sinus with Claritin and Aleve, and the ol’ brain wasn’t hooking up, but time marches on. I think my sinus came from a Sunday trip to San Antonio, which I detailed in The Battle of the Alamode. This had a funny, yet serious side. The antics if the grandkids were uplifting, unfortunately the United Nations had moved the Alamo to New York City or somewhere so they were deprived of that first visit. No matter, they hadn’t been taught what the building was all about anyway. I went to HEB and bought a copy of the Billy Bob Thornton movie to educate them, but the movie was overruled by “Teen Titans.”

As you know, Judge Scalia died this week. Actually, I dodged this because I couldn’t connect the dots to Texas, but eventually wrote Judge Scalia Saga when I found out that no autopsy was ordered, and Obama was being, well, Obama. Personally, I don’t see any mystery in his death, but hey folks, JFK got his head blown off in front of thousands of people and even he got an autopsy, albeit illegal because his body was spirited to DC so the CIA could set the results.

Once in a blue, blue moon I actually research a subject and try to be informative. The Great Peace was such an effort. I’ve learned that when I research a subject, and use four syllable words I fail miserably. Jus’ sayin’. All the article was saying was we, as a people, have “been there, done that.” ISIS is no crisis, and it really doesn’t matter who is in the White House, the song remains the same.

After the overwhelming success of that article I retreated to Texas subjects again, and wrote right off the top of my head. Texas Has Survived simply laid out facts that make the Yankees mad, and Texans glad. Texas is an easy subject because Norte’s are so bad. They barrel down here by the plane load just to tell us that we don’t know what we’re doing. Enjoy your brisket, gringos!

After a week of non-events, Donald Trump delivered Cruz a profound butt-stomping and I did a political article analyzing the contenders for the nomination, one not contending anymore as the Bush dynasty died nasty. Slobber and Vote wasn’t kind, but it brought things down to a manageable level with good common sense. I particularly like my last paragraph. It was apparent that the Claritin worked, and I could see my laptop again.

So, as we march toward Super Tuesday with anticipation Texas marches toward divorcing America like an unfaithful wife. I am reminded of the Talking Heads song saying, “Same as it ever was,” but liberals need “Start swimming, or they’ll sink like a stone because times theyare a changing!” I get a laugh at all the Hollywood types who swear they’ll leave the US if Trump wins. I’m cool with that, just don’t come to Texas! The liberals have held sway for seven and one-half years, and as it draws to a close they are showing their colors. They put Obama in office because he’s black, and now they are trying to follow up by putting Hillary in office because she’s a woman. And they call me a racist!

In a healthy political environment you can disagree. The actual difference between a liberal and a conservative is about ten percent, but the libtards try to make it seem like conservatives are from another planet. That’s what happens when your kids don’t study the Alamo.

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

Texas Has Survived

Texas has survived in spite of continual attacks for the last one hundred and eighty years! From the time that Santa Anna crossed the Rio Grande until the attacks on the Red River by the BLM, Texas has been a target for outlanders looking to clean up on the Lone Star State. During this entire time Texas has maintained at least a semblance of sovereignty, forging ahead to create the tenth largest economy in the world. Low taxes, willing workers, and a fine climate have lured corporations not back to the United States, but back to Texas!

The secessionist movement draws a lot of negative attention, but the Texas movement is one of seriousness. When Houston, Austin, Crockett, and others, fought for independence in 1836, they formed a coalition under the rule of law, with many arguments as to who controlled what, where the money was going to come from, declarations of independence, and planning the war against a lawless regime, quite similar to the one the Americans have imposed today!

Entrenched governments always have more guns than they need, and they use those guns to impose their will. Notice in the events in Nevada, and Oregon, the rule of law was second,guns were the tools of choice when government tries to make its point. Now they have Cliven Bundy in custody, and are stacking up to ninety-six years prison time on him, and they’re still ignoring the rule of law, and still depending on their guns!

Ok, let’s get to the bottom line. If Nevada or Oregon secedes from the union what does America really loose? Vegas and a few fish. If Texas leaves they lose the bottom dollar supporting just about their entire show, a butt-load of gasoline, cars, cows, and even that little pill they have to take every night to keep their girlfriends happy!   Texas has it all, hell ya’ll, we’ve even got Ebola!

The main stream media rails against Texas, making fun of our hats, girls, and our guns, but the alternative media streams more from Texas than any other place. Raging Elephants, Alex Jones, and even Glenn Beck continue to pound facts up the MSM’s posterior, and after Glenn’s little statement about God killing Judge Scalia, I’ll agree he’s two bubbles short of plumb, but he’s still in Texas! Ted Cruz is from Texas! Hey, if that African witch doctor in the White House can say he’s from Hawaii, Ted can say he’s from Houston, ok? You see, Texas is not all bent up about where your feet hit the ground first so long as you got to Texas as soon as you could.

You won’t see a great war of independence in Texas, you’ll just wake up one day and we’llbe gone. Texas is a de-facto republic, and I’ve sat on the Capitol grounds, listening to some Yankee go on and on about how silly we are, but that’s why he was in Texas in the first place. Weren’t no money left in New York! The main thing you need to know is that Texas will survive. The economy will continue to grow, people will continue to stream across the borders, and yes, oil prices are down, but the gas still burns! The only thing we have to watch out for is people bringing liberal ideas in, ruining a good thing. California is just a pretty prison. The state of Nevada belongs to the Fed, and Syria is safer to live in than Chicago, and boys and girls, if you don’t believe that, then I’ve still got that bridge on sale!

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

The Battle of the Alamode

Yesterday I fought the battle of the Alamode. Embarked on a little field trip yesterday, and an effort to teach some Texas History to the grandkids. Therein lies madness. When I was nine I got on a trolley, went to downtown Shreveport, and watched John Wayne’s version of the Alamo. I know, I know, not historically accurate, and all that, but I still love that movie, in fact, to this day I still cry when the little girl in the end asks, “Where’s daddy, mommy?” When I was growing up in Texas, the history of the Lone Star State was mandatory! I was rather detached until I went on a high school trip to San Antonio during the Hemisfair, and actually saw the Alamo. I became a secessionist on that very day! I must have counted every stone in the building. Back in the day the Alamo had a “smell” to it that was a little bit like pepper. There was no air conditioning, but you could appreciate the wisdom of the old padres in the fact that it wasn’t really hot inside the chapel, which is really all that is left of the original mission.

So, yesterday we decided to take the kids down for the obligatory first trip to the shrine of Texas liberty. Let us pray! First off, my grandchildren are lazy. The Alamo sits on about a city block. There’s a parking lot right behind it, beside the Crockett Hotel, no, Davy Crockett didn’t stay there during the battle, that came later. Way back then it cost about a dollar to park there, but I quickly learned the price had been adjusted to account for Obamacare to twenty dollars.

So, we got all parked and began the walk around the back wall to the grounds. Unknown to me, the kids had understood the word, “Alamo” to be “Alamode,” and were slavering as we trekked around the wall. No Dairy Queen, no golden arches, just trees, and some old warehouse that they were not impressed with. Never one to be pushed back, I continued to herd the gang of five through the lawn toward the side where traditionally you could just walk around and go in the front door. Did I tell you the Daughters of the Republic of Texas lost control of the Alamo recently? Well, the first clue of this was the long line and barriers I found extending down the archways leading to the front of the building. You simply could not go that way, you had to get into line, and some nerdy guy would “allow” you to enter the chapel one at a time. I kissed Vickie Roberts under those arches back in ’68 for God’s sake! I had to go back around behind the building, and try to enter from the side door. NOT! People were being herded in a circle fashion from the front door, around to the rear and out. Like a Golden Corral. Oh, well, I’d just take the kids around to the front from the other side so they could at least see the famous front.

Did you know there is a little concrete ditch extending around the rear of the Alamo? Well, there is, and it has always had these rather large goldfish swimming in it. The first sign that something had gone terribly wrong was when I heard one of the twins, who are seven, yell, “CATFISH! CAAAAAAATFISH!” (Splash!) Oh, my bad, I forgot to tell you my grandchildren are white trash? The troops assaulting the mission in 1836 were more refined. We got past that with a simple wet jean, and a hoot of laughter from just about everyone, and proceeded to the front. I just knew that the very sight of the front of the Alamo would be an epiphany for the children. Well, it was an eye opener for me. Maybe I’m wrong, but it looked like someone may have sandblasted it because it had lost that pink glow it always had, and looked like the front of a Macy’s department store. And, of course, there was the line of Yankees, going in one at a time, not even aware that this was not the way it was supposed to be. Hesitantly, I checked for the Lone Star flag on the corner, and it was still there, but there was not an American flag on the front lawn. I don’t remember that.

We paraded the children to the front for the traditional photo shot. They stood there asking where the ice cream was. Then I took them to the monument in front. They were still scanning across the street for the Baskin Robins as I tried fruitlessly to explain the assault on the walls. Now, we are currently home schooling, but before that the children were at the mercy of the public school system. Not only did they not know what the Alamo was, they didn’t understand the word, “battle” because guns are so politically incorrect it can’t be stated that someone may have set off a firecracker during the Texas revolution.  As we retreated back to the car (do you like that word, “retreat?”) we made one last effort to expose the babies to at least some history by taking them into the museum that sits beside the chapel. When the Daughters of the Republic were booted out they took the stuff they had brought to the property with them, so in the courtyard where Travis drew his line in the sand there now sits a gift shop! By this time all the kids were dragging, and the little girl was complaining about wanting her iPad.

We slowly walked back to the car, keeping the twins away from the “catfish,” and hoping the New Baby wouldn’t decide to relieve himself on the rear of the chapel. The entire thing took less than an hour. I didn’t even circle around for one last look at the Shrine of United Nations skull doggery. We gonna do some history when we get home!

Radical Islam

Radical Islam. I said that because I wanted this article to be as politically incorrect as possible. Yesterday, in Ohio, we were again entertained by the “Religion of Peace.” Mohammed Barry decided to take a machete and start chopping away at patrons in a place called the Nazareth Café. Interesting note is the owner is a Christian from Israel. Anyway, Mohammed went nuts, and did exactly what all Muslims do when they go nuts, which is kill someone. Bad news is that some people got hurt, but not killed, good news is that when the “Servant of Allah” lunged out of his car, after leaving the café, an attacked a police officer, he was promptly issued his seventy-two virgins.

I want you to take special note in the above I said, “All Muslims.” I meant that. Until they get a grip on things all Muslims need to be suspect, and all Muslims need to be deported. Politically incorrect enough for you? Now that you Muslims have tasted my mutton, how do you like it, huh?  We have gotten so stupid in this country that some guy named Weiner, hey, that’s rich, Weiner, anyway, Weiner said, “There was no rhyme or reason as to who he was going after. Right now there’s nothing that leads us to believe that this is anything but just a random attack.”

OH MY LIVING GOD! Ok, “Weiner,” the “rhyme or reason was someone in the café was probably eating a ham sandwich. I particularly like when the police continually refer to the dead camel jockey, with the knives in his hands as a “suspect.” I “suspect” he came here to do exactly what he did, which is to kill anyone he could because he was what. . . Radical Islam!

These people have not, and will never assimilate into western society. They don’t want to. They not only hate us, they hate each other. They will not be happy until Paris, New York, Dallas, and L.A. are exactly the same sewer that Islam has made of every other nation they have dominated since Mohammed slithered out of his cave and commenced to marrying five year old girls. I don’t even watch ISIS executions anymore, not because I’m a sensitive guy, but in the words of Hillary, “What difference does it make?” None, nada, no difference what so ever because the liberal west has decided that they can stop the mayhem by ignoring it or renaming it. And the Imam in the White House continually reinforces this lunacy.

Hey, funny note: Barry was on an FBI watch list. Remember when I said the FBI was a joke? I mentioned that they could find a pubic hair in a gas station in North Hollywood, and conclude that Shirley Temple killed JFK? Well, like the homeboys say in Killeen, “WHOMP. . . Dey it is!” Wanna know why they hadn’t zeroed in on Barry? Because they were too busy arresting that dangerous terrorist, Cliven Bundy out in Portland because he’d written a letter to Obama telling him the constitution still applies, that’s why!

Now, let’s address another issue. There was a subliminal in the article. An employee grabbed “something” from beneath the counter and stopped the attack. No one is addressing that, but since practically everyone else was running, or throwing chairs, just what do you suspect the employee grabbed. Could it be a gun, perhaps, we don’t know, but I’d say is was a bit more than a spatula. I’m not even going to jellyfish here, but I’m going to let you know, if I’m sitting there having a burger, and some nut comes in waving a two foot knife, I’m going to shoot him right between his beady little eyes and try to act like I’m not having a good time.

The message is simple. These people don’t fit in. These people come from a failed culture of death. Their religion is not a religion, it is a system designed by a mad man, and if you want to live, when any Muslim comes into a public place you need to go to code red right then and forget about being nice, correct, or uninvolved. If there are “moderate” Muslims, and I seriously doubt that, they’d better police their shop, because from Ohio, to Austin, to L. A. there are Americans who will!

Before doing this article, I made my morning coffee run to a local convenience store, and as I was leaving, an Arab came in. He was smiling, greeted me, and went to the coffee. I smiled back, looked at his hands, watched closely, and eased out the door to my car where my gun was. Hey, dude. . . just playing by the rules you set. Radical Islam!

 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

There's a Mad Man Down in Waco

Once, not long ago, there was a mad man down in Waco. Over many articles my readers have become used to my views on life, religion, and my struggle to understand those views. I didn’t arrive at these without some consideration, but one event seems pivotal to my evolution into a realist. I’m not going to call myself a secular humanist because my friend, Mikee Bee has pointed out to me that the term is more anti-Christian, and that is not my intent, so I’m inventing a new term. I’m hereby initiating the faith of “Wilburism.” There! That makes me my own Pope, so I make all the rules and speak ex catherdra!
I wasn’t going to touch the events in Oregon last night. I have firm views on what’s going on in Burns, but remember that I’m Tex-Centric, and that provides a bias to my reasoning on things like that. I listened to the live feed last night, and was amazed at the number of prayers said, but more amazed as the situation went from lost to found. No angel came down and chased the FBI off, but something did change the hearts and minds of all involved, and the situation went from “lock and load” to rest until tomorrow. Now, this article is going to be long and deep so bear with me. I have a decided point, so those with ears, let them hear.
Man is driven by right, and wrong, legal, and illegal. If you go looking for justice you’ll go crazy. Some turn to philosophy, and some to the Bible. The Bible is a compilation of writings, and books over a period of time spanning from two thousand to three thousand years ago, depending on how you date the original documents, of which there are no longer any original documents. Those are called “autographs,” and it’s very hard to get sheep skin and paper made from reeds to hold up that long. You have the Torah, the five books of Moses, and frankly that’s the most solid documentation I’ve found. The Jews have a number system to verify the accuracy of the Torah, and Jews don’t deviate much, so I’ll go with their system. These books all seem pretty straight forward. Rules to live by, some kind of explanation of who we are and where we came from, and a little outright history of a people trying to carve out their existence in a dry and thirsty land. Then there’s some poetry, a few old guys fussing about the good old days, and a few prophets trying to make sense of it all.
Spring forward about four hundred years and we have the “New” Testament. Now for Christians this collection is a clarification of the Old Testament, for fundamental Christians this replaces the Old Testament. Now, never mind that Yeshua (that’s right, that was his name) was a practicing Jew, up to observing his last Passover a few hours before his death. Rabbi Yeshua even said he didn’t come to change anything. He believed in the Torah down to the last little dot on the scroll. What he didn’t believe in was huge financial empires disguising themselves as religion and selling salvation by the shilling. His message was very simple. What you sow you shall surely reap!
Yeshua never wrote a grocery list, but that’s ok because he had a whole flock of people following after him that we’re more than happy to take on that job. And if he didn’t say it, no problem, they would just put the words in his mouth. Religious scholars pretty much agree that the story of the stoning of the sinful woman probably never happened, but the statement, “He who among you is without sin cast the first stone,” was something that sounds so “Christ like” he SHOULD’VE said it! And the last verses of the book of Mark are such an obvious addition it’s laughable, but that doesn’t stop hillbillies in the back woods reaches of the United States from kissing rattlesnakes!  They pray to God that the snakes don’t kiss back.
There are four gospels. Actually, there were many more, but all the others didn’t get enough votes at the Council of Nicaea and got pushed out. There is Matthew, Mark, Luke, and then some hippy called John. None of these were written by any if the Apostles, but rather by understudies of understudies a couple of centuries later. And since the copies of the copies of the copies were all made by semi-illiterate scribes with agendas we don’t know WHAT they really said!  It is interesting to note that if you look in most Bibles, they say, “The Gospel According to Mark, etc.” You see, in the first century all believers thought Jesus would be back the day after tomorrow so they didn’t bother to write anything down. Couple hundred years later even the slowest of them began to wise up and scurried around trying to assemble the “Gospel.”
The original effort to clarify what Yeshua really meant was a guy named Paul. Now Paul never met him, but he said he saw him on a lonely road, got slapped blind and saw the light. After that, anything that Yeahua really said that was a bit too Jewish for the Greeks and Romans he just fixed it and everyone called it “Pauline.” We all live in a yellow submarine. If you read between the lines of Paul’s letters you’ll see statements like, “See how large I make my letters,” and “If they could have, they would have pulled their own eyes out and given them to me.” Paul was not completely healed on Straight Street, he never lost the spots before his eyes, and in that moment he knelt before the sword, the spots told him that he had seen something! Hence we have hundreds, if not thousands of different Christian sects, all dancing to a different drummer that only they can hear. And, let’s not forget our friends the Mormons, who gave up on the entire proposition and just wrote their own!  I’m not going to get in a screaming debate with these people, but let me just ask, do you honestly believe that an angel appeared to some kid in the woods and gave him ancient tablets?  As a 21st century, thinking man or woman, with toilette paper and an iPad, do you REALLY believe that?  If you do, I will take checks or money orders for that bridge I have on sale. Nuff said.
And we have Islam. Put the fatwas down, I’m not making this an attack on Islam but it’s the same deal. Now, I’m not going to run Mohammed down much because that would take an entire article, but think about it. A cave, an angel, a book, or recitations, ever how you buy it. He was probably an ok guy when he was selling rugs, and whipping camels across the desert, and he certainly had a good gig, but there seems to be a pattern here, ok? Angels get around a LOT! If I ever see an angel I’m gonna ask him, “If you stand before God, don’t give me any book, they’re just misunderstand it anyway, just let the cards fall where they will.” This is because what happened to Mohammed is what happened to Yeshua, what happened to Moses and good ol’ Joseph Smith. You start out with God, give it a couple hundred years, a little theology, and you get God Damn!  One thing, no one can write a book of rules that will apply universally for ever and ever. Times and conditions change, but some people will hold on to the old, kiss them snakes, stone teenage girls, and wear funny underwear. If the “draws” fit, wear ‘em.
I can’t even get into the Hindu faith because it’s just downright silly. The only contribution they ever made from that culture was the Karma Sutra. I have a copy of that. I don’t buy into a single syllable of that faith except for the girls in silk belly dancing outfits, which give me a warm fuzzy, and I guess in a way that is a bit spiritual.
The Creator, if there is a Creator, and I think there probably is, has simply got to be smarter than all that. He, she or it does not go by our rules and I’ll assure you that the originator of everything from atoms to galaxies is so far beyond us that we will never understand it no matter how hard we try. In my book, Sharon, she tells the preacher that theology is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. When man runs up against this wall he works around it by accepting dogma. He feels comfortable being boxed in, so long as the box is small, and he doesn’t have to think. And people kill for this. People die for this. People burn people, cut their heads off, bury them up to their necks and stone them to death because God had a friend of a friend who told them to do it. Do I think man has a soul? Yes!  If that soul survives death I don’t know, haven’t been there. One part of me hopes that there is something after the last heartbeat, but that nasty old common sense tells me that five minutes after I die I will probably know just about as much as I did five minutes before I was conceived. I don’t believe men, but I’m not stupid enough to deny Christ.
Why do I think like this? Because God doesn’t own me a thing. When that doctor slapped my butt, and I drew my first breath that was more than I’d earned, and every breath after that was a bonus, so if there is darkness in the great beyond, God hasn’t welched one little bit. Thank you God! That’s a depressing thought, isn’t it?  Not really. Not if you realize that you’ve already been there, done that. And between been there, done that, and do that again, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Get along with each other. A tribe of MONKEYS can do that. In one handful of dirt in Waco I completely realized the full extent of man’s inhumanity to man.
Now, what does all this have to do with last night? There are three kinds of people in this world, spiritualists, and realists, and a combination thereof. Spiritualists gaze toward the skies and hope for the best. Realists stare at the ground and hope for the rest. Activists see the spiritual, reach to the ground, and hurl the dust into the faces of their oppressors. I am such an activist. I listened intently last night as the YouTube feed broadcast the event in Oregon. It was almost like the Orson Wells “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast. After three hours I was waiting for a commercial. There were four against many, a protagonist, Michelle, and the antagonist, some guy on a bull horn screaming at the people in the building, who were running around like chickens with their heads cut off dropping “F” bombs like they were working for Richard Pryor. Hey, folks, that’s the truth, I’m sorry, ok?
Notwithstanding the gravity of the situation, and most certainly not taking away from the patriotism of LaVoy Finicum, I’d just like to say that we in Texas have “been there, done that.” I went to Waco a few years ago, out on Highway 6, where there’s a vacant lot. It’s not impressive. Kinda sneaks up on you, and you’d be surprised how close it really is to town. I was there setting up the sale of some adjacent land for a group of people, and as part of my trip I wanted to see this particular track of land. If you bend down, and scratch deep enough, even to this day, there are little black flecks mixed in with the caliche. The ashes of Mount Carmel. In the blink of an eye I knew that actions, such as Burns, Oregon will not change anything except the bank accounts of a few movie producers.
Not one supporter showed up in Burns last night to even spit on the FBI. There were up to seventy thousand listeners to the live feed, but the four in the Reserve were there alone. We in Texas know that if we are going to change this we will have to be organized. The FBI, counts on the reluctance of “patriots.” If only two hundred ranchers had showed up last night with deer rifles that situation would have turned around, and the FED would have adjourned for a donut, and brothers and sisters, that’s a fact!
No one came to Mount Carmel either. There weren’t any YouTube feeds back then. The mad man down in Waco, and his little band hung bed sheets out of the windows trying to deliver messages to the media, who had no intention of delivering them to the people, just like last night, and that is a point of interest, because I don’t recall any Main stream Media in Burns last night either. They weren’t even there! This is the part where the realist reaches for the ground, and when I stared at the ground that day, long ago, I saw ashes! And neighbors, until we organize, and get out from behind our keyboards, the FBI and its fellows will bid the ashes multiply!
In conclusion, pie in the sky rhetoric and starry eyed ideals will not win this fight. It’s going to take men and women willing to throw the ashes into the eyes of the oppressors. Ask yourself, what if only one percent of those listening on YouTube last night had walked up to the FBI and just said, “NO?” They can’t shoot us all. Lots of answers in a hand full of ashes.

Beyonce

Beyonce. Frankly, I knew nothing about this woman until today, and never heard a thing she ever did. So, I watched the famous half-time show. That was. . . special! I decided to do some research, and went to Wikipedia. Looked up Black Pride, and got “Black pride is a movement encouraging people to take pride in being black to various degrees. Related movements include black nationalism, Black Panthers. . .” Then, silly me, I looked up White pride, and this popped up. “White pride is a slogan primarily used by white separatist, white nationalist, neo-Nazi and white supremacist organizations to signal their racist or racialist viewpoints.”
Well, kiss mah grits! Then, I took a good long look at Beyonce. She’s not an ugly girl, but frankly Mylie Cyrus is prettier. I couldn’t tell if she was a hundred percent black. She’s not a high yellow, but massa got in the woodshed somehow. (Racist enough for you Beyonce?) Now you’ve tasted my mutton, how do you like it, huh? The hair came out of some solon, and she’s a “ButterFace.” Tight body, but her FACE! Ok, let’s be frank. Artists make political statements all the time. They all do it. The only thing is this woman is not saving the whales, she’s projecting a philosophy of hate, separatism, and social destruction. She makes the Muslims look good!
I’ve checked, and I don’t remember owning any slaves. Don’t think any in my family ever did either, nor did we ever employ anyone who did, and we were Masons, both lodge and literal. I am not going to apologize to Beyonce for Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and I really don’t think I’ll ever buy one of her records. Back in the day, I’d get mad and spout a whole lot of racial slurs, but hate don’t work. Too many good people like Dr. Ben Carson, John Manning and the Apostle Claver Kamau-Imani to run around burning crosses. Beyonce is a political novice, as is Whoopi, Michael Moore and most rappers. Well, not Tupac.  I like his stuff. He was clever, not clever enough to duck in Vegas, but clever.
What you have here is the Obamanation. Everybody is in separate camps, all hating each other, each blaming the other side for everything from Global Warming to the price of Pepsi. Come to think of it, I believe Obama did blame us Crackers for Global Warming, and Pepsi, don’t get me started, Pepsi picked up the tab for Beyonce’s half-time booty bump. You can reach them at 1-800-433-2652, and let them know that things really do go better with Coke.
What was in the promoters’ minds putting that garbage up there? I can tell you what was in their minds. Middle America will stand for it because they are too scared to object for fear of being called a “racist.” Well, I’m as racially fair as Beyonce. This woman’s career will fade, they all do. One moment in the sun, and then, before you know it, you’ll see her on some tabloid, all pickled up, explaining herself to the public, and maybe to God, and very few will be able to remember one line of one of her songs. John Fogarty she’s not! She is a half-breed racist. . . oops, promised Crystal not to cuss. Just say, when she goes home tonight, I hope her mother runs out from under the porch and bites her.
Right before I wrote this article I went to the store to get a pack of cigarettes. As you may know, I have a limp. I got out of my car and eased toward the door. This little girl, and I do mean little, about two foot tall, held the door for me, and I said, “Thank you, little lady.” She beamed a smile across her little black face and said, “Thank you, sir.” And God said, “Hey there!”

Day Ain't Over Yet

 

“Day ain’t over yet.” Jack Palance uttered those timeless words in the movie, “City Slickers.” Last night the numbers rolled in from New Hampshire, and this morning Donald Trump was rolling in them like a pig in slop (sorry Donald, I’m from Texas.) Cruz, Tea Party darling, handed the Donald his face in Iowa, and yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, he cheated, he lied, Ben Carson really won, get over it. Those farmers took one look at Trump, and then Ted’s boots and cast their votes. Then we headed for New England, and those fine folks voted for one of their own. Contrary to my usual approach I am including a graph for the intellectual minded.

I think there were some folks running on the other side of the political spectrum, and I understand they voted for some old hippy whom passed nothing but gas in his three or four decades inside the Beltway, and of course, Bonnie Parker Clinton didn’t do as well as her connections expected. The bad news is she is still walking around free, the good news is that now we know precisely how many potheads there are in New Hampshire.

So let’s take a look at this. Geography lesson: America is made up of regions. I told ya’ll that once, remember? People hanging out on Wall Street have absolutely nothing in common with some guy in California waiting to catch a wave. Human nature: People tend to side with people that look like them. I know, I’m a racist, swat them bees. Between “Thiod and Thoity-Thoid Street, and Long Beach there are literally hundreds of different flavor Americans, and they will go with whomever voices their interests. It’s called, “Politics.” Remember you heard that here first.

I don’t know why Cruz even bothered with New Hampshire. Trump was in his back yard, he talked to the constituency up there and they did what constituents do. As we move across the nation you will see the balance of power rock back and forth, as each candidate parlays to the various special interest groups that buy into whatever flavor they are serving up. Kapish? Trump will get the exact same whipping from Cruz when Texas chimes in as Cruz got in New Hampshire. What makes politics work, boy, is that an oxymoron, politics, work, anyway, I digress, what makes politics seem to work is after it is all said and done, hopefully, we get a reasonably vetted, homogenized candidate that will basically appeal to all groups so as in the end we don’t have a Mosque set up in the White House, or efforts to that effect.

I can call New York, and California because they are galvanized. New York prints the money, Cali spends it. Now places like, say, New Mexico, I’m at a loss. First off, everyone in New Mexico is crazy, that’s why they’re living in New Mexico. What’s that? New Mexico? A new improved Mexico? They don’t have that many Electoral Votes anyway. East California, Arizona isn’t much better, and with places like this it will be a toss-up between Cruz and Trump. Utah will go for either because they are not going to vote for an old hippy or Yoko Ono’s former lover.

The song remains exactly the same. Ted Cruz is a politician, and Donald Trump isn’t. When it comes to a head to head between them where political savvy is required, Cruz will win. Where facts and common sense are required, Trump will take the lead. All the others on that stage the other night, Day is over for them!

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

Old Dogs, Same Ol' Tricks

The reason you can’t teach an old dog new tricks is because the dog knows that old tricks work quite well, and sees no reason to change. For the uninformed, I am an old dog, and I have a whole bag of tricks, most of them that have led me to many divorce courts that eventually allowed me to own about fifteen percent of myself. When I screw up there are usually two factors that play heavily into the formula for a disaster, exhaustion, and beer. Yeah, I really just said that. That’s why I’ll never succeed in politics. I tell the truth even when it makes me look stupid.

 

So it was last night at my little hide away. Hide away is an oxymoron. Killeen has a population of just over one hundred thousand, but there are only about one hundred actually from here, and they all know each other. I’m sitting there with a pitcher of beer, thinking I’m hidden while cell phones buzz all over town discussing where I am, what I’m saying, and who I’m with. There are certain prerequisites that are required when one is “Pub-Hiding,” the first being that you simplymust lie to your significant other when the inevitable call comes inquiring as to your location. You run outside to the smoking porch so she can’t hear the juke box, and you tell her you are at a sandwich shop.

 

Now, this is how my mind works when I drink a pitcher of beer. I can discuss the intricacies of secession, but forget that I’m at a Bar and GRILL, when my beloved tells me to bring her a sandwich. The word you’re looking for here is, “drunk.” All I had to do was have Mamasan, the bar keeper to throw a burger on, and sack it up, and I wouldn’t have had a problem, but there was one more factor involved. When one decides to step out it is obligatory to stop by and pick up a fool to go with you. Naturally he has a lot to say, but the man can talk for an hour and not say anything. And he never shuts up! So, there I sat, drinking beer and listening the Emperor of the world explaining to me why I’m paying for all the beer.

 

Then then repeat phone calls commence. This is the other factor. My “Sniff the Other” always asks the same question, “Look out the window, tell me what you see.” Well, as I pointed out, I thought I was hidden, and simply couldn’t tell her what I saw was a neon sign flashing, “BEER, BEER, BEER!” As my reason slowly melted into the pitcher there before me, my lies became more elaborate, and of course the fool is texting her, finking me out at every turn. Now, before I get the Mad Mothers mad at me I wasn’t snot slinging drunk, I was more a mellow, stupid kind of drunk. I mean, I looked sober, but as my Puerto Rican friend, Juan would say, “I ain’t even gonna lie to chu!” I would not have showed up at the policeman’s ball at this point.

 

I finally got home, got into a big argument about the sandwich, left, and found my way to the fool’s house, where he continued to discuss everything from the Kennedy assassination to Pepsi, and the beer began to wear off. Funny how you turn a mental corner when the beer wears off. When he went to the rest room, I went to the car and took my silly butt home! 

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt

Behold A Pale Horse

 

The day was cold, as usual, when the gathering commenced in Austin on Saturday. The crowd was fringe groups, conspiracy nuts, tin foil hats, and there are so many other things to do in Austin on a Saturday besides listening to speeches, and hearing all those things that people like Alex Jones, Doc Greene, and CJ Grisham say. The country is doing fine. Never mind that we have an avowed Muslim in the White House trying to destroy the country. Never mind that the simplest rights in the Bill of Rights are ignored. The adversaries of it don’t even try to explain, or go around anymore, they just ignore. People like Whoopi Goldberg spout lies on TV, completely void of any understanding of the constitution, and hateful to the American standard that made them rich. They don’t care.

The people in Austin that day did care. As I looked at the people I was aware that there wasn’t a large crowd. The crowd was large enough to have a DPS officer with a fully automatic AR-15, just in case. In case of what? In case some of the old men decided to take over the Capitol building? In case someone used a vulgar word? They didn’t have such defense when the Muslims mounted the steps of the Capitol shouting, “Allah Akbar!” That’s what this meeting was all about. The infusion of an alien culture set upon destroying the very fabric of Western Culture.

It is politically incorrect to say, “Radical Islam.” All Islam is radical in that it goes against everything decent. It should be wiped from the earth. If you tell me that there are good Muslims, I will tell you those Muslims haven’t read their “Holy” Qu’ran, because if they had then they would see the barbaric ramblings of a schizophrenic pedophile. The very fact that good, Christian men and women are guarded by an officer with a machine gun is an abomination before God! I approached the officer. I made a joke about the weather, thanked him for being there, and went on my way. He was a fool! He was standing against his fellow Texans, and that is something I cannot abide.

Texans will only be pushed so far. No one wants a fight. No one wants a war, but that’s what’s coming! When it comes it’s gonna be bad. We won’t be fighting the Army, or Navy, we’ll be fighting men talking into their sleeves with no military organization. Ask yourself, if an organized militia, a well-organized militia had been with LaVoy Finicum  in Oregon, would the result have been different? What if the crowds held back at Mount Carmel had rushed the FBI and cried, “Enough!?”

They are only men. They aren’t super human, they are wrong! They are breaking the law, and doing their master’s bidding. They are cowards. Rushing one old man in the snow is a lot different than facing a platoon of Texas patriots bent on their destruction, and people, that’s what’s coming. You will see it. I watched Mr. Finicum’s funeral procession today. I saw the rider less horse. I saw the hundreds of good CHRISTIAN people taking the cowboy to his rest, and I cried. I cried tears of rage. Allah is not the God of Texas, and the government is of the people, by the people, and for the people, and those people are about to stand up! Those on the other side had better take notice, and choose which side they are on because the Pale Horse is coming, and death and hell comes with him!

Simple Ol' Boy From Austin

http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Boy-Austin-Wilbur-Witt/dp/1503179540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422121598&sr=8-1&keywords=Wilbur+Witt