Dead Camels

I sure hate to beat this dead camel again, but here goes. I will sufficiently bury this little jewel in the comments under a rather mundane status update so I don’t get my literary head chopped off by the Facebook Sharia. You know, before I start that is one thing that irritates me to no end.  People can say anything they want about Jesus but the ver second you insinuate that certain other “prophets” may have picked their nose in the desert somewhere the whole blame world goes nuts. 

The main reason I call myself a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin is that, well, I’m simple.  I try to step away from complicated theory and write straight away. This doesn’t mean I’m racist, or stupid, it simply means I tell it like it is. That perplexes the more lofty minds you usually find hanging out in various blogs. I learned that from songwriting. Lyrics have to be direct, and to the point, and hit a resounding point two or three times so as to embed it into the memory of your respective audience. Otherwise you won’t eat that night.  How simple is that? 

And so we come to Radical Islam. I was on a totally different kick this past weekend. I’ve developed an interest in Mormon Geology. It is fascinating. I won’t go into that in depth here, but suffice to say I’m enjoying the conversation. What I did notice was that the Mormons can be “out there” with some of their theories, yet they are predominantly peaceful.  Write that word down. Peaceful. What I used to think was violent turned out to be just a theological discussion. No heads came off, nobody got burned in a cage. After I met a few Mormon girls I kind of liked the polygamy idea, but I undress. . . I mean digress. Any way where was I ? 

Now, compare that with a religion that hits the world news daily, daily, that’s a laugh. . . hourly! I hate to be the first one to tell you people this, but we are engaged in World War III. A bunch of ragamuffin goat herders have publicity that would make the Beatles stand back. The entire Islamic religion is caught up in it. One half of them (please don’t do the numbers, I’m trying to make a point here) is cutting heads off, and the other half is trying to tell us they are the religion of peace. Here’s where the Simple Ol’ common sense comes into play. Islam is the PROBLEM! No more Islam, no more problem. It’s that simple. 

Theological debate should be no deeper than, “My invisible guy is better than your invisible guy.” When you die you find out. If you want to be a Mormon, or Amish, or Church of Scientology then just BE. Islam is on the other end of the spectrum. Islam means “submission.” Now that sounds all very fine if you take that to mean submit to what you THINK is the will of your God. All religions do that. You believe that God has a game plan and you try to “submit” to His will so you can live a better life and hopefully not cook for eternity. Nothing wrong with that. If you live a good life, pay your taxes, raise your kids and retire what have you done wrong? When you die one of two things is going to happen. You’ll be right and Jesus is waiting for you at the gate, and you enjoy eternity, or you’re wrong, and only the grave awaits, oh well. Who have you harmed? It’s a win win combination. If you believe in God, and there is a God, you win. If you believe in God, and there is no God, you still haven’t lost anything. If you deny God, and there is a God. . . so you see. 

Now, let’s take a look at Islam. Submission in Islam does not mean do the will of God, it means do the will of what THEY imagine is the will of their particular rendition of  God under penalty of death! All free will is gone! For all the posturing and lip service, the Muslim’s ultimate goal is to have the entire world bowing and scraping to the ramblings of a man in the desert no matter how barbaric those pronouncements may be. How can a “religion of peace” even consider justifying burning a guy up in a cage? I know, I know, the Inquisition. Don’t go there! When heretics were burned at the stake the Catholics were not a religion of peace either, and we got the Protestant Reformation. You see, that’s the problem with Islam. There will be no reformation. A devout Muslim is like the guy at the bar trying to drink himself sober.  I’ve tried that. I doesn’t work people! 

Add to this the concept of political correctness. This is the mantra of fools. It’s like a seed, planted in the mind and from that seed weeds will grow. That’s where you get brilliant ideas like “Gay Marriage,” abortion, death panels, presidents like Obama! Hitler had a theory. If you’re going to tell a lie then tell a big one, and keep repeating it over and over again until people have heard it so much I begins to have validity simply because it’s been around for so long. It’s not that you really believe the nonsense, it’s because after a while most people have things to do, lives to live, bills to pay and they just get tired of going over the same old tired debate again, and again, and again. That, and Americans tend to think that a religious argument is just that, religious. It has noting to do with the running of the nation, and most certainly the opposing sides won’t kill each other. 

But Islam is the religion of peace! If that’s true then why do they keep KILLING people? Think Mormon. What’s the weirdest thing that comes to mind. Ok, many wives. Think Amish. Horse drawn carts. Scientology. Whacked out movie stars. Islam. beheadings. That is their stock and trade, and I’m sorry if that hurts Muslim sensitivity but it’s true. You can’t get around it. The ultimate overthrow of everything that is not Islam. The very idea of a judge conceding to Sharia Law in even a family court is the most outlandish idea imaginable. I won’t preach violence here but I’ll let you know right now if my family came under that gavel I’d be hard pressed not to slap that judge’s teeth out. In America Sharia Law is contempt of court! It’s that simple. We have a constitution that addresses the legal process in the USA. That’s why they call it the “Law of the Land!” 

This is going to end badly, friends and neighbors. Texas is not going to support this and the backlash is going to make the Inquisition look like a Sunday Bar B Q. And before you start crying in your Burquas YOU started this! I’ve heard all the clap trap about how we went over there and the terrorists are only fighting for their country but I don’t buy it. What country were they fighting for when they burned that poor guy in that cage? I’ve heard all that stuff about Islamic “culture” and the fact that our very numeric system is Arabic, well, ok. If you count so well be aware of the fact that there are more of US then there are of YOU. Once Americans, oh forget that, TEXANS realize they are really threatened it will be ON! And it’s coming. Texans are seething right now. We know what needs to be done, but we’ve got to weed out political correctness, and just do what needs to be done! When it’s over all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men will NOT be able to put that camel back together again!  

 

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

Make It Count

Is there anything more clear, and more confusing than the idea of self defense? I’m not going to quote the Second Amendment because the Yankees have beat that horse into the ground, but I am going to go right back to the idea that even a good dog has the right to bite! Any animal will instinctively  run away from danger, and if they can’t they will defend their life. Well, maybe not an armadillo, but every other animal will. What separates us from the apes is the use of tools.  A gun is a tool. A knife is a tool. A rock is a tool. A brain is a tool!

Our society has been reduced to a sea filled with predators. Any woman with a smidgen of common sense knows not to try to walk alone across a dark parking lot, and hoping the police will be there is just stupid. Oh, they will get there.  Get there to use that little piece of chalk they carry to draw an outline of her body. Now, cops are not totally useless. They’re about as useful as one of those Pakistani call centers you get when you’re trying to pay your electric bill. Even a stopped watch is right twice a day. 

In any society people get killed. Cars kill people. Guns kill people. Bad water kills people. People die every day. The goal of life is not to get killed.  That’s why we teach children to look both ways when crossing the street.  We teach the same children not to talk to strangers. What is lacking now is teaching children to defend themselves when all else fails. When a six year old gets in a fight on the school yard these days the police are called. Oh, the cops are pretty good at that. They are well trained in handcuffing a twelve year old girl, providing they don’t shoot her for displaying a comb. Our common sense has been reduced to arresting a child for drawing a picture of a gun in the sand! Are we crazy, or just blind?

Open Carry Texas isn’t just about open carry. It’s about common sense, and freedom. It’s about reading the Constitution exactly for what it is. There are good cops out there. Now, I’ve never met one, but common sense tells me with all the thousands of them there simply must be one or two that can read. Common sense tells me, also, that if a seventeen year old girl with mental illness loses it in a police station, and has a pen knife, three grown men across the room don’t have to shoot her! 

What CJ, and others are fighting for is not something new, it’s a return to a very basic idea. People are going to defend their lives. That’s going to happen. No matter what law is on the books, when you face the ultimate choice to obey the law and die, you will choose to live. Where does it end? If you can’t carry a gun soon you won’t be able to talk about a gun, and before it’s all over you won’t be able to think about a gun.  Think I’m crazy? What do you think the NSA is all about? Pull your head out of Mr Butt. They’re not just looking for people committing crimes, they’re looking for key words indicating someone out there may be talking about something that some bureaucrat believes may border on imagining a crime. They are concerned about what you’rethinking!

We have to re-educate the police. Even if we get Constitutional Carry it will be a while before someone can walk down the street legally carrying their gun without Mothers Against Everything But Unprotected Sex With A Donkey calling the cops. And it’s always some nonsense about “rudely displaying” or “causing alarm.” Just like CJ. When they couldn’t get him for illegally carrying a gun they charged him with interfering with an officer during the consumption of a donut. This word game has to stop! I don’t think there is a single judge on the bench right now that has one iota of common sense, and I know lawyers don’t have any. 

This is going to be a long trail, folks. Once we get our liberty back we must put protection in place to keep it! When the Constitution begins to be perverted by crafty words  it is just wrong! We each have the right to live our lives as we see fit so long as we do not stop someone from living their lives, and this includes being able to preserve that life, and the lives of the ones we love without worrying about commas, ifs, ands, or buts, should we have to do it. 

On Freedom Friday, February 20th, Texans will stand up.  If enough stand up the road will be a bit easier.  If not, the road will be longer and harder, but it will still be there, and our feet are already on it. This match is already scheduled. Always remember, there are more of us  than are of them! We’re just too busy working and paying taxes to be very loud, but when we do make a noise and make it count!   

 

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

Freedom Friday

If you call yourself a Texan and you don’t go to a three day Bar B Q with a bunch of patriots you should loose your driver’s license because you don’t need to be registered in Texas. That’s what Freedom Friday is going to be. February 20, 21, and 22, will be a three day celebration of freedom in order to show the congress of Texas that there are still a few of us out here who BELIEVE in God, mom and apple pie, and we don’t CARE how corny it is. 

There will be speeches, food, music, and lots of networking, and you see, that’s what the loyal opposition does not want. Where twenty years ago the Capitol grounds would fill up with people who just happened by and saw something going on with food and people they would invitethemselves to the party. Texas seems to have lost that. I wouldn’t miss this shindig for anything. When the last “group” had their little showing on the steps they bussed in people. Patriots don’t seem to have that level of organization. It was the same way at the Alamo. Nobody took the war very serious until Santa Anna showed them how serious he took it, then it was on! When you want to get someone’s attention just put their butt on the table. 

And our butts are on the table friends and neighbors. People are funny. There is a political inertia that insinuates itself upon the human condition.  No matter how bad things seem, folks tend to think that everything is going to be alright if we just go on about our business and leave it alone. Not going to work this time.  When Texas was dirt poor and California ruled, the very idea of Texas once again raising its head among the nations was  cute for a “B” movie but none really believed it. The spirit of the Republic of Texas has fueled prosperity previously not seen since the American industrial revolution. The de facto Republic of Texas already exists in as much that Texas cannot continue its current international climb while still being fettered to the declining American coalition. We are not a “state” in any shape, form or fashion. If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, must be a duck, and Texas has been quacking for, oh, about ten years! We, in the Texas National Movement realize this, we just have to convince the talking heads on Wall Street that they aren’t running anything but their mouths! They like that forty billion or so in tribute we pay them, don’t they? Oh, and for the record, the only Texas gold left is in Obama’s teeth!

The formation of any republic is not an easy process, but one thing you can watch is what the money people do. When Toyota moves to Texas there’s a message there. When 1,500 people a day transfer from California to Texas that’s another message. When Texas suddenly ranks anywhere between fourteenth to fourth, depending on where you read it, in international ranking (that’s international, people) THAT’S a big message! Rick Perry was a terrible governor, but he was miles above anything  “America” has to offer. Texas succeeded in spite Rick Perry. We could have had a baboon in Austin and Toyota would still have moved to Texas! Texas politicians are awful, but their our politicians. From the drunken D. A. to Casino Joe, we’ve got the most corrupt bunch of scalawags imaginable, but Texas can work with that. As far as that peaceful “religion” that seems to be popping up everywhere? Remember way back when Wendy Davis was running dead babies up the flagpole two at a time, and she went down the the valley trying to preach abortion to a bunch of Mexican Catholics? I said she had made a mistake, and she got her picture on the cover of Texas Monthly. Gosh, I hate being right all the time. Just me and Rush. But I wasright! You can push Texans right up to the edge, but that edge is there, and when you go too far Texan’s turn and you go over the edge. 

Yankees never understand this from the outside. Once they come here and climatize they begin to grasp the great opportunity we call Texas, and if there is an inkling of Valley Forge or Bunker Hill left in them they leap on the dream and are a benefit to the experience. Yankees are not bad people, most are good, but they’ve just been beat down so hard they have lost all hope. Texas gives them that back. That experience will be epitomized at Freedom Friday. A mass celebration of Texas, nothing more, nothing less. A joyous reunion of the people and the concept of liberty. All we have to do is keep region seven, DPS in check. That’ll be like having a drunk ex-wife at a party, but I think we can do it. See you there! 

 

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

Jesse Ventura

I’ve been meaning to get into Jesse Ventura’s butt for a while, but had to read up on him, and let Clint Eastwood’s movie make a little more money before I lit the fuze on this one. Eric Bolling made a comment yesterday about Ventura, calling him a “washed up wrestler,” which is pretty much what he is. Every once in a while someone comes along who inspires us. They do something so outstanding that it supersedes everything for a short time, and we can admire them, feeling a bit better, a bit taller, a bit more substantive. Chris Kyle was such a man. In an endless, seemingly pointless war one man stood out. One man with a rifle. The war for him boiled down between him, and them, and Chris took one hundred and sixty of them out!

You know, back in Nashville you quickly learn that in a room full of songwriters you had one songwriter and fifty wannabes. Goes with the territory. Any time you pen a hit you’ll have people jump up and either say they helped you write the song, or they were in the room when you did it, and somehow, some way they inspired you. Jesse Ventura ain’t no songwriter folks. 

Let’s start with reputations and liars. Now I know Ventura’s gonna sue me, but I need the book sales, ok? Anybody out there believe professional wrestling is for real. If you do have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on sale! Professional wrestling is about as real as my first four marriages, and brothers and sisters those were a cluster. . . well, you know. Anyway, Ventura’s claim to fame began with the wrestling ring. From there he moved on, somehow, to being a Governor, God knows how, and then he went into television, where he looked for dragons under every rock. From Aliens flying saucers into the World Trade Center to murder attempts on “witnesses” he’d found the JFK assassination, no subject was taboo, no theory too wild. Hey, I’ll admit, I watched him, but I’ve watched “Josey Wales” fifty-seven times so go figure.  I’ve already told you that I’m not a movie critic. 

Well, it seems that in San Diego Ventura and Chris got into an altercation where it is alleged that Jesse got punched in the mouth. (Hey, Jesse, that would have been a real punch, not one of those choreographed performances on WWF, ok?) Well, Ventura claimed it never happened, stained his reputation, and sued Chris Kyle, collecting somewhere around two mill from Chris Kyle’s widow. Now, I promised to try to clean up my language, but ya’ll know that stuff that drips out of a chicken’s butt, kinda whitish? Well, that’s what suing a man’s widow is. Jus sayin! That is the most yankeefied, low life, hateful thing I can imagine. 

Ol’ Jesse didn’t stop there. He launched on a smear campaign calling the late American Sniper a liar on every front. From challenging the bar incident in San Diego down to any side remark Chris ever made, Ventura made a career of smearing feces on Kyle’s tombstone. Only one teeny weeny little problem. Chris Kyle was a real American hero! Americans liked seeing Arab heads go a flying after 9/11. They didn’t care if Mr. Kyle spun a yarn, heck, do did Davy Crockett, so do I. If there’s a book sale in it I’ll shoot you a story in a heartbeat. 

Fact is, all heroes are human. Sgt York, was human, as was Audie Murphy. Ira Hayes, anybody remember him, He had an alcohol problem, as did Winston Churchill, who would drink so many Martinis that he had to hug the wall on the way to bed. If you look into anyone’s closet you’ll find skeletons dancing the cotton eyed Joe! All that matters is for a brief moment in time a man stood up and made us proud by his service. While Ventura can’t prove he was ever a Seal, There is no doubt about those one hundred and sixty shots that Chris Kyle took.  They are all documented. 

You’d think that for all of Jesse Ventura’s bluster  about being a red, white and blue American, he and Chris Kyle would have been running buddies.  You wanna know why this never happened? It never happened because Chris Kyle was the real deal, and Jesse Ventura was one of those guys hanging around the room claiming he wrote everybody else’s song, that’s why! There is a liar in this story, and I’ll give you two guesses as to who it is. My advise to Jesse Ventura; please don’t pop off at Clint Eastwood in a bar.  Then you’ll have to sue his widow, too! 

 

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 Big Box

As the sun set on the Big Blue House in Utah a UPS truck pulled up and delivered a box to the porch. All five of the children gathered around in wide eyed amazement at the sheer size of it. Christmas was on the horizon and this was the biggest gift of all. It was as tall as New Baby, and weighed more than both the twins put together. Puck and Just a Bobby circled the box, examining it carefully. Then, all together, in a great effort they moved it into the house, and set it beneath the Christmas tree. Their father, Joe, came down from his room to see the box. Normally, due to his health, he stayed in his room, or the media room in the basement, but the arrival of such a great box demanded that he see it for himself. 

There was no indication on the box as to what lay within, which was no matter because only Puck could read, and not that well at all, but they all reasoned that since it was Christmas, and the box was so great, it simply must be something of value! They went to the media room and began to guess as to what the box contained. 

“It’s a big screen, flat TV,” Puck said. “It can’t be anything else. We know we need one for the upstairs, and mama has been saying we should go to Walmart and buy one.”

“Then why did the green truck bring it?” Just a Bobby replied. “Why didn’t we just go there and pick one up?”

Puck reasoned and then said, “Because it’s Christmas! The box is a gift, and it can’t be opened until Christmas.”

Nick, one of the twins interjected, “It’s too small for a big screen TV. That would make it smaller than the one we have right here. Why would we bring a smaller TV here than the ones we already have.  It’s a bicycle!”

Puck folded her arms, stared at Nick with that serious look of hers and told him, “If it’s too small to be a big screen TV, it’s certainly to small to be a bicycle. How would you get a bicycle in such a box?”

“The bicycle has to be put together,” Nick told her. “They don’t come all put together. We have to go to the garage and get the tools and fix it.”

“Ok smarty pants,” Puck continued, “why one box? There are five of us.”

The other twin, Chris, jumped in, “Because you can’t ride a bike, New Baby’s too little, and Just a Bobby is too clumsy. It is one bike for two twins.”

“Why you?” Puck asked.

“Because we are boys, you are a girl, and everyone knows girls don’t ride bikes!”

After the fight they were all still contemplating the box. Puck went and got a pencil. After looking around to make sure no adults were in sight, she punched a hole in the side and put her eye against it. “I can’t see a thing,” she said in disappointment. 

“Well, ‘course you can’t,” Nick said. “It’s too dark, and the hole is too small. Anyway, how much did you think you could see with such a hole?”

When they were all in bed the debate continued. Guesses ranged from train sets to trampolines, but there was no congress agreeing to any one theory about the contents of the big box beside the Christmas tree. The next day, being two days before Christmas the Big Blue House was buzzing with activity, far too much, and too many visitors for any of the children to get alone with the box. New Baby would walk by and give it an occasional kick, but no sound came from within, and the weight was great for his small size. 

Christmas Eve came, and when the sun set the children were all sent to bed. When the house had settled New Baby rose, tip toed to all the other children, and after telling them to be quiet, led them to the tree. From beneath his pajamas he produced a butter knife, something forbidden, but these were the times that tried children’s souls. 

“I have a plan,” New Baby said. “Since I have the smallest head, we’ll cut a hole in the box, and I’ll stick my head in and have a look.”

“What do we do about the hole?” one of the twins asked.

“Just cut a line. Then put it back together, and we’ll all turn the box around with the cut against the wall. Then, in the morning, we all jump up and down, and ask ma ma to open the box first. We crowd around, and she’ll be so busy opening the box that she won’t see the line.”

After weighing the idea, Puck concurred, and New Baby began the cut. Slowly, the cut became just large enough for New Baby to ease his head within. It was dark still, but the faint trickle of Christmas lights from the tree allowed him to make out shapes. 

“I see a seat, and wheel, no four other wheels.” he said. 

When he pulled his head out, and the box was repositioned they began to guess. 

“What did the seat look like?”

“It was big, and sat in a kind of cage. I put my head right down on it and it even had a pad for sitting.”

“How do you know there were wheels?”

“Well, they looked like wheels, and they were all wrapped in that plastic stuff. They were wheels.”

Puck, being the more analytical than all the rest, began to apply her enormous intellect to the equation. After several minutes she stuck one finger into the air. “It’s a Go-Cart!”

The twins looked at her in disgust, “That’s the stupidest thing we ever heard.”

“No, can’t you see. We can ride a go cart down the hill. We can all take turns, and it belongs to none of us, but we all use it. That’s why it has one seat.”

There was some debate, but, in the end, it was arrived at that indeed, the content of the box had to be a Go-Cart. That was the only logical answer. 

The day started early on Christmas morning. The children made sure everyone was awake by sun up, all running to the tree, and exactly as planned, they raised such a ruckus about the big box that their mother was forced to open it first. Joe sat in his recliner watching. Since the box was not wrapped in paper all the mother had to do was slit the tape binding it and pull the flaps back. The children all rushed in. Their eyes grew wide. New Baby had told the truth for before them was a large apparatus with rails, and a seat, and four separate wheels. They all seized upon it, and pulled it out, setting it on the floor. New Baby retrieved the wheels and figured out that the four small wheels would sit on the bottom. But, there was a problem. Where was the steering wheel? The motor was obviously in the plastic box beneath the seat. Just a Bobby backed up and began to nod his head. 

“I know what it is,” he said.

The other four turned and stared at him. “It’s a Go-Cart,” Puck cried. “It must be a Go-Cart. Just look at the wheels.”

“Yeah, and just look at the hole in the seat. It’s a crapper!”

“A CRAPPER????”

“Yep! So daddy don’t have to walk all the way down the hall at night with his bad legs. New Baby stuck his head in a crapper!”

They all slowly turned and stared at the white plastic, which was now so obvious. Scales fell from their eyes, and the awful truth sat there before them. Puck went over to it and ran her fingers over its contours. “Well, it still has wheels, and we can still ride it down the hill when daddy’s not using it.” 

 

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

America Lost

America was built by people with their backs against the wall. The American Revolution was a no brainer, with untrained militia pitted against the best equipped, most fearsome army in the world. Ships came in and pounded New York City into submission while George Washington stood in the distance and watched the fires. Before it was over he had to redesign warfare to fit the American situation, and he did that because his back was against the wall. 

As pioneers moved west there were other people there already, and they didn’t want anyone on their property. Fact was, an Indian could fire an arrow seven times faster than a musket could be reloaded. Bullet or arrow, the song remains the same. Yet, they survived. The Indians were pushed back by the increasing pressure of the advance of “civilization.” The original pilgrims from Plymouth weren’t very bright. Most of them either starved to death, or fell to disease. They couldn’t grow a weed if they had unlimited water and Miracle Grow. The Indians had to show them how to make corn grow using fish. The settlers who pushed west weren’t much better. America at that point wasn’t a “bread basket” it was more like a soup kitchen. 

All throughout American history everything was hard, and there was no free lunch. Everyone had one thing in common.  Their backs were against the wall. No food stamps, no Social Security, no welfare. All through the growth of the nation innovation would be the salvation. Need transportation for goods from New York, build the Erie Canal.  Need heat for a hard winter, dig a huge coal mine. Need to bring down the price of an automobile so the common worker could buy one, invent the assembly line. Need water for Los Angeles, bring it by aqueduct the length of California. Each time adversity raised its head, innovation would pat that head back down, and America would move forward. 

There are two side of this coin. The inventive spirit of the American spirit would smooth the bumps in the road of everyday life, and this was fine for those who lived through those bumps, but what happens the next generation? What happens when an entire generation comes along who never even saw a bump?  As a teenage girl in Austin turns on her lamp to read a book, does she appreciate the farmer, just fifty years before, who was very happy to have just one light bulb in the whole house so he didn’t have to light a oil lamp every time he wanted to see? When you drink your Starbucks, did you know that in a cookbook from 1892 the recipe for coffee began with, “Bake the beans for one hour before grinding?”

Now move forward two generations. Now you have a population who not only never saw a bump, they have never even seen a picture of a bump in the road. An entitled generation that believes the world is their oyster and the government is responsible for an endless supply no matter who has to fund it. Where, during the American Revolution, people died for liberty these new Americans wouldn’t even take a bus ride three blocks to listen to a speaker talking about liberty if you gave them a free token! The inner cities are filled with people allergic to hard work who do pushups in front of the Food Stamp office. Add to this the virtual invasion of foreign populations bent to tearing down everything America has built and you have a volatile mix. 

What is happening right now in America is a natural evolution. Hard times make hard people. When times get softer, people get softer. Then other hard people come from somewhere else, not to reinvigorate the dream, but to destroy, and steal. It happened to Rome, it happened to Carthage, and it will happen to America. Americans are now soft and stupid. When asked on MLK day, the average person on the street in L. A. believed that Dr. King freed the slaves, indeed, when asked if they saw his live speech that morning, MOST critiqued the speech, never even knowing Dr. King had been dead for decades. 

There is one saving grace in all this mess. The Republic of Texas! Texas is just close enough to hard times to still have the memory of them in the minds of living persons. There are old men who remember that one light bulb in the main area of the house.  They remember the convenience of getting a glass of water from a faucet as opposed to a well. This is important. Texas can turn the situation around. If the Titanic had began a turn a little bit sooner it would have missed that iceberg! The entire purpose of the Texas Nationalist Movement is to miss the iceberg. 

Our ideas are corny.  Our ideas are old fashioned. We look silly. We say things that are not politically correct. We go on and on about things like secession, and the right to carry protection. We don’t like weird hippy religions coming along trying to supersede our courts. We hold doors open for ladies, and still say, “Ma’am.” We are like dinosaurs lumbering toward that comet. But, America we’re all you GOT!” Who else is going to save your country? Some gang banger in East L. A.? Some guy in the White House who won his last election solely because he was darker than his opponent? A department that steals and sells your kids to the highest bidder? I thought Mr. Lincoln said we couldn’t do that anymore. 

Yes, Texas is the last hope of America. We want to secede not because we don’t like America, not because we do not appreciate the hard work of previous generations who overcame extreme adversities, but because we can’t afford to support your huddled masses yearning to be paid! Yes, our ideas are harsh. Yes, you’ll have to work. Yes, you’ll have to stand up on occasion when a bunch of nut jobs show up on your Capitol steps and start spewing some mantra in an alien language. Yes, we demand that you be a citizen of the Republic in order to live, work, and prosper there. We do not owe you a check, healthcare, housing, or freedom of religion when that religion is really a political system designed to bring Texas down to the level of the sewer you just left. 

Texas is unique. Remember, we’re the guys who’ll hole up in a church and shoot at you. I know it seems as if we are apathetic, but Texans tend to go off “all at once.” We will put up with something forever and then just explode. We’re basically laid back people. We welcome almost anyone so long as they want to work, help, and keep their lives private. We don’t care about your religion, personal relationships, drug of choice, so long as you don’t try to impose them on the rest of us while we do our thing. 

So, as America grows softer, and more distant from its roots, Texas fertilizes those roots, and defends everything those patriots at Valley Forge gave us. We’re trying to give you America back! Your backs are against the wall again! Somewhere in a pub in Pennsylvania I hope there are some men sitting around having a beer, reading this article, and one of them says, “Now that’swhat I’m talking about!”

 

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

Terms and Conditions

Well, I’m out of Facebook Jail. I did a lot of reflection during my time in solitary. Actually, I had a lot of time to do things OTHER than “liking” this or that, or poking people all day long. I actually researched Mormon history and made contact with someone who has a very informative series on the History Channel. It’s always nice to let the fresh air in. Like I told you yesterday I had already been looking at statistics concerning Facebook, and was already considering a change of direction before I was shut down for the twenty-four hours. I weighed a variety of options during this time. 

I read the Facebook Terms and Conditions very carefully, with all the restrictions placed upon one upon deciding to use this medium. Some were obvious. You can’t threaten or stalk anyone. You can’t do that in real life either, so that’s a no brainer. That having been said the rules moved onto subjects you could not openly discuss. These rules read like a “HUD 1” presented during a Real Estate transaction, of which I’m very familiar with. No race, creed, religion, sexual orientation, or disability. For your average Facebook devotee this is all very fine. As long as you are putting pictures of your lunch up you will never cross the line into Facebook Nirvana. However, if you are a social commentator, or political activist, such as myself, you can quickly ascertain that such restrictions make Facebook virtually worthless as a viable medium of communication. 

The twists and turns of the human condition are the life’s blood of controversial articles, which are my stock and trade. If I only write about what I had for lunch no one would ever read anything I put out. It’s as simple as that. If he couldn’t have poked fun at religion or politics George Carlin would have remained a DJ in Shreveport, Louisiana. Success in literature is not measured by money or acceptance, but how many people will read what you write. Some, indeed will not even agree with you, but they will read what you put out. I check out Michael Moore on a daily basis. I do this because he’s controversial. If we all sang the same note there would be no harmony. 

Then there’s the problem of penetration. God, I hope that’s not a forbidden word. I will put this article up on many sites. I may be published in newspapers. I may read it on the radio, and because of all of this thousands upon thousands of people will hear or read this piece, unless it appears only on Facebook. There, it will get, um, about ten reads, if you count all the pages and groups it will appear on. If I cut a record and sold ten copies I’d fire the distributer. Sorry Facebook, welcome to the real world. 

I respect the right of Facebook to run their shop they way they see fit. Still, I must weigh the effectiveness of their business model as compared to other methods of production, and in my case they come up sadly lacking. So, here’s my solution. First off I’m not going to stop writing what I write. That would make me a hypocrite. I write off the top of my head, and articulate what I believe in the simplest terms possible. That’s my style. When someone does something I construe to be stupid I’ll say, “Dude! That’s like. . . . STUPID!” And if that’s concerning religion, or politics, or sexual orientation so be it. If you don’t want Bill the Butcher to write about you don’t be stupid. However, Facebook wants a homogenized landscape. The solution is simple. 

I have so many groups and outlets on the site that I will continue to post articles that are mundane enough to pass thorough the censorship and remain. The good stuff will be on other sites that are not so, how should I put it, homogenized. Reading one of my articles on Facebook will be a little like buying an AC/DC album at Walmart. Nice for the kiddies, no real content. Of course I will continue to feed and support www.ragingelephantsradio.com. The ChatKats (and Kittens) are intelligent enough to know the real stuff is at the numerous other sites that I appear on, and you can hear me on a regular basis on BlogTalk Radio. Before you think I’ve “copped out,” let me remind you that I am a writer! When I struck an agreement with Crystal Lee Laramore, part of that agreement was to conform my articles to her format. She has cultured a readership that expects a certain style of writing. I can do that, and I can most certainly fly under the radar of some kid out in California who got lucky and made a fortune off some site he and a friend dreamed up in college. That’s what I DO! 

Very quickly people will come to understand the “trailers” are on Facebook, but the real show is everywhere else, and I’m cool with that. You want to know what I really think? Buy my book! With titles such as, “Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin,” and “I Crappith Thee NOT!” you can very easily see I’m not comparing brisket recopies. There are people and groups of people who would love it if I were to capitulate and just go away. Well, I’m smarter than that. With my abilities in writing I will dance circles around “Terms and Conditions” as easily as Psy danced around that guy in the yellow suit in the video, “Gingham Style.” 

What Facebook doesn’t realize is, for all its success, while we don’t want cussing, threatening rants, social commentary, and REAL discussions would be very welcome. They want a “One size fits all” format. Well, boys and girls, I never eat at Subway. I prefer Thundercloud. Most of you have never heard of that place. That’s because it’s a local sandwich shop in Austin. Very independent, very good sandwich. If they ever go “corporate” I’ll just find another place that suits my preferences. 

I was sitting very nicely on a porch with a martini when Doc Greene jerked me out of retirement and put me on the path I’m on now. I’m not turning back. If certain factions don’t want me skewering them then stop being stupid. I feed on stupid. That’s why I’m a “Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin.” When you strip away all the political correctness, and all the mamby-pamby what you have left is SIMPLE! If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, time to have roast duck! I do understand Facebook not wanting to be reduced to the level of the late great MySpace. (Is that even out there any more?) I do like the size of the site, but the fact is, for me, it’s only good for signs directing thinking people to places where they can see what I really think. 

Facebook cannot ban me for BEING controversial. They can only ban me for WRITING controversial on THEIR site. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll sip in the Facebook tea house, but I will lead my readers to the BAR across the street, and I’m buying! L’audace, L’audace, Toujures L’audace!

 

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