Friday, September 30, 2016

So I'm Sitting There Watching Nancy Grace

So, I'm sitting there watching Nancy Grace last night, and I'm wondering why I'm so irritated. Well, first off she's hatchet faced, and for those of you who can't quite figure that out, just think about it a few minutes, and it'll come to you eventually. I think she may have some kind of legal background, but you can't take that from me. She jumps on this “Affluenza” kid (did I spell that right?) who had a car wreck while he's three sheets to the wind, and does a little county time, not a bunch, because he was a minor at the time he was convicted, and she brings on two lawyers who try to explain that while she interrupts, interjects, and leaps either to a commercial, or another completely unrelated story. At this point I discovered whiskey with a beer chaser made her more palatable.

Now, this is how stupid I am, I kept watching. I can't tell if she's liberal, or conservative. She does this bit on a missing little girl, and of course, no joke, just like everybody else, I'm into the story because we've all seen it dozens of times, and pretty much know how it's gonna turn out. Well, in this case it didn't, thank God, but right in the middle of the story she switches to God knows what, and leaves you hanging. What happened to the little girl? Seems we find her the next day, fine, no story there, and Grace leaps off in another direction. Then, she thanks the viewers, lawyers, and sponsors, and BAM, she's gone! I want my hour back.

I think what really irritates me is when confronted by knowledgeable people who try to tell her like it is, she plays to her audience, with dialog more ignorant than mine, plants a few sound bites, and exits, stage right. What's scary is she's obviously got a following because she's STILL THERE! The affluenza punk was a prime example. Children raised by WOLVES know that juveniles fall under a different criminal code than that of adults. The WOLVES even know that.

I watch a lot of “West Coast” style stuff, because I'm stupid, actually, and I'm taken by Robin Meade, but we’ll just leave that where it is. I don't know where she comes out of, but she looks west coast, and perhaps that's why I can't recall a single thing she's ever said. The phrase you looking for is “Male Chauvinist Pig.” That's what led me to Grace. Like I said, I'd heard she had a legal background, and really expected her to tear into a story. What she turned out to be was a carnival barker. She juggles, makes the lions roar, and here come the clowns. What I'm waiting on is an exclusive on the JonBenet case, and at the moment she's about to match the fingerprints on the water heater to the mailman she jumps to some wheelchair race in Murrietta, California. More whiskey and beer, roll the credits, fade to black!

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The Art of the Deal

The art of the deal went bust last night. Donald Trump has charisma, style, and millions of dollars,, but Hillary has a lawyer’s mouth, patience, and thirty years of practice in a trade that Trump has only recently gotten into. He didn't go for Clinton’s dirty laundry while she hung out load after load of his. She used a tactical retreat when challenged on her missing emails, which being brought up at that particular moment was a simple bait and switch move to try to defecate the IRS question he was dodging. A simple “I'm sorry, I made a mistake” by Mrs. Clinton put thirty thousand emails right  back into the in-box beside Obama’s birth certificate. When she pressed him on his tax returns, and insinuated that quite possibly that Trump had paid no income tax, he said that showed he was “smart.” That means the rest of us are dumb, right? This would have been an excellent chance to trot out the Canadian Clinton Foundation, but Trump, by this time was pulling himself off the mat, asking who won the fight.

Of course we had to endure two old white folks diving into the racial tension in the country. There was so much pandering I was expecting them to start saying how much they loved watermelon. Oh wait! Trump did that on Cinco de Mayo with his taco salad. Trump may have written “The Art of the Deal,” but apparently Hillary READ it. There were no great moments for Donald, but Hillary provoked crowd noise at times, even though the audience had been told to remain silent during the debates.

It makes you wonder what will happen to the art of the deal when it's Putin standing there. Both candidates took off after ISIS, Hillary, and Trump pledging to liquidate it within hours of taking the oath, but ISIS is like that rat that traps can't kill, and feasts every night with one hundred descendants waiting to take his first place should he fall. Trump tried to blame ISIS on Hillary and Obama, but truth be known ISIS is the bastard child of the artful dissection of the Middle East. Back in the day we had three or four strong men in that region, which we removed, allowing all the rats to take a turn.

The shine went off of Trump's hair last night, and if he doesn't tighten up that will cost him that six or seven points at the polls that may very well put the Clintons back in office. Most people form their opinion during the last of a presidential race, and that's normal because the gloves off nature of those days prove, or disprove a winner. Hillary knows how to goad “The Donald.” Subtle little things like praising Michelle Obama’s speech at the democratic national convention. You remember that one. You also heard it at this year’s republican convention. It was suggested that Trump may not even come to the next two debates. In the book “Deep Survival” by Laurence Gonzales, it studies why people frequently do exactly the opposite from what it would take to survive. Same thing in politics. It would be a stupid move, but y'all will all stand back snake amazed if he does it, and then blames it on the microphone. For you information, Donald Trump was sucking snot after Hillary’s first punch. That was the sniffing sound you heard. Shucks, even Cruz ate a bugger!

Monday, September 26, 2016

The Family First Prevention Act

The Family First Prevention Services Act is a landmark piece of legislation that will at least begin the process of ending the kidnapping, rape, and murder of our children. For those of you out there who haven't been blessed with a home invasion by the Child Protective Services, affectionately known as the “CPS,” let me clue you in. Back in the day it was commonly held that your home was your castle, and all things within were safe. Your children were safe, too. Daddy went to work, mommy cleaned and cooked, and little sister always seemed to pee the bed. Life was good. Well, sometime back in the 90’s some fellas got together and decided they should fix all that so they started “protecting” children. When you start a “department” in government, it always starts as a good idea. Protecting the defenseless. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Things are out of control, neighbors hear the fights, kids are always dirty, and missing school, something must be done. We all agree on that.

The problem with a government department is that it perpetuates itself. It's not enough to build a road, that road has to be maintained, at more cost than the original pavement. It's not enough to protect the children in a dysfunctional family, ALL children must be protected for issues defined by the “department,” and brothers and sisters, there are a LOT of issues. From whippings to cigarette butts in an ashtray, we got to get them issues cleared up. The CPS keeps its ear to the ground. There are things called “mandatory reporters.” Cops, doctors, school teachers, and just about anyone the sees something that needs to come to the “department’s” attention, indeed, it's a crime NOT to report!

So, the CPS shows up at the door to check things out. Consider yourself in a normal house on a Monday morning, after a big football game with friends over. I'm gonna tell you right now that there are dishes in the sink. In fact, most likely the trash hasn't been put out. Both of these things are what the CPS calls “red flags!” Red flags lead to something called, “reason to believe.” So, the CPS worker sees a sink full of dirty dishes. Your home is untidy. Beer cans
In the trash. Looks like an alcohol problem. Gonna need some drug testing here! The two year old little girl crosses the hall going from her bedroom to the bath, NAKED! That did it! Daddy MUST be a pedophile! Daddy gets upset at this insinuation, he's aggressive. Why this is just out of control. We gotta save these kids. Them red flags are all over the place.

The CPS gives the illusion that it's here to help. They understand. They just want to make everything comfortable. No big deal. All routine. Just go to the showers, and everything is going to be just fine. Bottom line, you lose your kids. Now, before we had all this CPS pseudo science, Aunt Jane would come running over, and take the kids to her house. Maybe grandma, or even a distant cousin. Well, the CPS fixed all that. If grandma smokes cigarettes on her porch in the morning she can't have no KIDS around. Aunt Jane, her income is just not where it needs to be, and besides that, she's a waitress for God’s sake, and everyone knows how THEY are. Nope, we gotta get us some foster care here. Foster care. Kinda gives you a warm fuzzy, doesn't it. An old couple, in the autumn of their lives, helping poor little babies out of the kindness of their heart, the the light of sweet Jesus in their eyes. Ok, now put that joint out and let me wise you up!

In my opinion, foster parents are the most depraved, sociopathic creatures on the planet. After seeing, and reading about these people I began to understand Hitler! I understood the showers, too, because I got so mad I wanted to put all the Foster parents IN them. I must be “aggressive.”Blood is blood, and Foster care is not blood. Aunt Jane would be buying shoes with her tips, but foster parents wouldn't spend a penny of their money on a tetanus shot! They get PAID to spread the love, and quite often, with little girls and boys, the spread the love quite literally. A professional foster parent can cycle children like a well oiled machine, making thousands in the process, and should the child become “of age,” no problem! Kick that little bastard to the curb, call up the CPS, and place another order. It's called “aging out.” Just check out your local prison and see how many inmates are former foster children. Why do you think they hate child molesters so bad? I Crappith Thee NOT!

A child is far more likely to be sexually abused, or even die while in foster care because foster parents just don't CARE! Hell, it ain't THEIR kid! Little Alex Hill was removed, and put into foster care because neighbors “mandatory reported” smelling marijuana coming from the house. The CPS protected her to death! Dead little girl. That daddy learned HIS lesson.

The Family First Act is simply that, family FIRST! Blood is thicker than water, and family has real connection, and real feelings for the children within that family. If there is a problem, family already most likely KNOWS, and has most likely discussed it. And, get this; the child KNOWS Aunt Jane! Even if mommy and daddy aren't there, Aunt Jane is, and besides that, her kids are too. You know those kids. The ones that played with the child ALL HER LIFE!

Senator John Cornyn doesn't think this Act is a good idea. That's unusual, because I really can't recall him taking a position on anything, but when you tell a politician that you're about to cut funding to a government agency their eyes roll back in their head, and they start sounding like the little girl on the “Exorcist!” Cornyn has his foot firmly in the door, and with bi-partisan agreement from both sides of the isle that is resonating from Capitol Hill doesn't bother him a bit. He is determined to keep the Foster/Adopt machine at fill throttle, greased up with KY jelly. Even Ted Cruz is looking at him like he's crazy.

The Family First Prevention Services Act will not cure everything, in fact it's a bit diluted, but at least it's a start on the road back to sanity, something Cornyn seems to have lost a grip on. That dog’s been eating grass for years. If we can get this act, countless children WILL be protected. Families will be preserved, and maybe, just maybe, little Alex Hill can finally rest in peace.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Idiots

Idiots! Don't you just love ‘em? I didn't plan on writing anything today. Got up, it's raining cats and dogs, and I was sitting on my rather large back porch, enjoying the storm. Had already made up my mind to grill some steaks, set up cocktails, and think about nothing any more serious than if I should mix the whiskey with Coke, or Arizona Sweet Tea. Then, I checked Facebook, and there he was! A black, liberal democrat doing what black, liberal democrats do. Jumping all over Donald Trump, while hoisting Hillary up a flag pole for all to see.

Now, I don't mind disjointed opinions from misinformed people, shucks, I've been married six times. I can listen to just about anything, but there seems to be a distinct lack of intellectual content when you run across one of “those people.” By the way, how do y'all like that? I've said “black” and “those people” in two paragraphs. I'm playing that race card better than Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson at a Bar B Que cook off. Save your fork, it's gonna get better.

This “gentleman” said the indomitable Hillary Clinton was master debater, having faced down senators. Obviously he didn't take in her little debate with Trey Gowdy, but what difference does it make, right? He claimed she would “gut him like a fish!” Observing his ethnicity I concede he knows all about having a fish fry. (That's three, folks. Y'all keep count now.) After that the insults piled on, with his friends chiming in, and of course all of the proper English being applied i.e. “She gone to gut him like a fish.” Then we had Black Lives Mattering all over the page, suggesting that if more whites were shot by police that there would be a huge uproar. Well, my African-American friend obviously didn't know that more whites ARE shot by police, but that can't hold a candle to black on black shootings, which in spite of their being thirteen percent of the population, black murder takes winner, place, and show in the FBI crime statistics. Jus’ sayin’.

Let's have a little history lesson here. The south seceded from the Union. Now what was that political party? That's right! DEMOCRATS! The union won the war, and reconstruction began. I kinda look at the word “reconstruction” being like “reeducation.” While the north was “reconstructing” the south, those fine upstanding men of virtue, and culture gave us the Ku Klux Klan! Then, they started lynching blacks all over the place, and THAT, my friends, was the minority vote! Right up until the ‘60s these guys were marching down Pennsylvania Avenue in their pretty white sheets, waving AMERICAN flags, and screaming that word we can't say now more than Biggie Small. Then, suddenly, in a twinkle of an eye, the democrats became the black’s best friend! In the short time that I was in high school, the state of Texas swung Republican, and ALL the black suddenly started voting for the same good ol’ boys that had given them Jim Crow! You can't make this stuff up, folks. And now, this old white woman comes sailing out of Arkansas, and they're all over her like she's their baby mama! (That's four, I believe.)

Idiots! Remember that pendulum? It be a swinging. The American people are fed UP. It doesn't matter what Trump does in that debate. All he has to do is say, “Benghazi” and Hillary will launch into one of her coughing fits, run to the bathroom, and spring her leg brace along the way. Bill will be in the audience saying, “Ah Nevah had sex wid dat woman.” After eight years of “reconstruction” of the entire country, that pendulum is going to swing hard to the right, and it's got a razor edge. People like the idiots cited above will herd down to the polls and vote their eyes out, but it ain't gonna help this time. This is going to happen, like it, learn it, love it. As for idiots? Like Ron White says, “You can't fix stupid.” People are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you got until they vote!


Thursday, September 22, 2016

To The Security of a Free State

What is necessary to the security of a free state? The second amendment has two main points. The militia is needed to protect that security, , and it is the right and duty of the people to one, be part of that body, and two, not be hindered in the ownership or carrying of arms in order to fill that duty, and secure that free state. The militia is the people, and the people are the militia. A militia is not the army. It is not the police. It is the gathering together of the people when all else has failed, order must be restored, and lives, and property protected. There comes a time for the FBI to stop talking into their sleeves, analyzing pubic hairs and get the hell out of the way! The people have a right for a free, and secure state.

So why am I telling you all,this? Ferguson, Baltimore, Charlotte. With support from Black Lives Matter, and liberals like George Soros, it has become routine to burn a city down every time a black suspect gets shot. All suffer when this happens, and the attacks are perpetrated by thugs, and gangs who couldn't care less about black lives mattering so long as they get to smash a window and steal something.

What do the police do? What can they do? Dozens of hoodlums in the street, going crazy, glass flying, citizens hiding, and criminals having a field day. Enter the militia. This is not vigilante justice. This is not a lynch mob. This is, “A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state!”  A militia behaves like the army. It is not there to secure a crime scene, or gather witnesses, it is there to reimpose the security of a free state. It is there to make sure that business owners can open their shops in the morning, it is there so old people don't have to hide under the stairs while they're being cleaned out.

Now we’re not talking about peaceful protest with people going down to the police department carrying signs and candles in order to let the media know that the community is upset. No, we’re talking about people attacking reporters, burning cars, smashing windows, robbing, screaming for death to all whites, indeed, attacking whites for being white! Picture this: Full scale riot, I mean protest in action. Citizens are hiding. The militia shows up. The rioters think it's business as usual, and continue. The men get out of the flatbed trucks, and form ranks. The commander gives ONE warning to disperse. The rioters riot a little harder, and begin to approach the militia. Seventy-five M-16s open fire. No more riot. Bodies are bagged, police are allowed in to make a report, use that little piece of chalk they carry,  and arrest any survivors. House to house searches to inform citizens that all is well, and ask if they need medical attention. Zip the bags, roll the credits, fade to black. When  it's all over the men who formed the militia go home, and back to their jobs.

Now you're horrified, aren't you? What did you think a militia was? A Masonic Lodge? The army, or sheriff couldn't always protect towns and settlers from Indian raids, raids across the border by comancheros, or well organized gangs. Well friends, we’re back to square one. If we don't want to see this brave new world in Texas we’d better pull our heads out of Mr. Butt, and keep the militia at the ready. We are America’s last hope. The more “settled” parts of the country can't save themselves, but we in Texas are still close to a violent past where such things as a posse , a lynch mob and a militia are still in the memories of those living. We still ARE the Wild, Wild West.


The police can't do it all. The army can't attack citizens. Only citizens can attack citizens, and they are “necessary to the security of a free state!” I can already hear the legalists chiming in with all the reasons, laws, and Supreme Court opinions. Sit down and shut up! YOU’RE the problem! YOU are the reason cities are burning! YOU are the incendiary! You are the destroying the security of a free state.

We Don't Look So Funny Now, Huh?

We don't look so funny now, huh? One thing the Texas Nationalist Movement has to overcome is the pertinacity of the general public to view us as a bunch of gun toting crackers in coonskin caps. Boy, that hurts, doesn't it. Not as bad as sitting on a bicycle without a seat, but right up there in the top five, I'll assure you. The Republic movement has been the butt of jokes, even ad campaigns for years. “The National Beer of Texas?” Let me educate our Norté friends in the great white north. If, and that's a big if, the Obama administration were to suddenly turn on a dime and let us leave . . . we WOULD survive! Now, that's a fact. Sorry Delaware, you just don't measure up. The nations of the world would beat a path to the port of Houston, and embassies would pop up like hemp plants in a pothead’s garden.

Texas has the eighth largest economy in the world. Texas has more oil than all other oil producing countries combined, save Russia. Texas has a WARM WATER seaport. Texas has land. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Alaska’s bigger, but have you noticed everyone there lives along the south end? Just like Canada. Practically every Big Mac you ever stuck in your mouth has a little piece of Texas in it. We even invented boob jobs! Google it! We don't look so funny now, huh?

Obama is not going to let us go without a fight. Why? Because without Texas money the DIS-United States would be a third world country. MEXICO would build a wall! Don't believe that? Let your sixteen year old daughter take a stroll through any  American city with a population greater than five hundred thousand, which puts their safety ratio below Rome under Nero. Margaret Thatcher once said that the problem with socialism is eventually you run out of other people’s money. The not so Federal Reserve has been writing hot checks for years. That's why people are going back to the barter system. Don't believe that? I, myself, have seen people trade beans and rice for Mr. Clean. God bless Amerika!

In the new Republic of Texas there will be no income tax. There will be no “refugees” save Americans spilling over the Red River. There will be no Child Protective Services. (We have cops for that.) ALL lives will matter, and we have an execution chamber complete with a fast lane for those who can't quite grasp that concept. . You kill a Texan and we will kill you back. Money will be money. Gold! Silver! Something you can hold in your hand. The Republic of Texas will be a Christian friendly zone. Any “religion” that wishes to form its own government, override the laws passed by the people of the republic, or just cant stop making those bombs . . . well, that's what that gurney in Huntsville, and that Port of Houston is for. We don't look so funny now, huh?

The Republic of Texas will span from the Sabine River west to the California border, north to the Utah border, and the reason for those limits is that those fine folks are fed up, too. The Republic of California, and Deseret will raise THEIR heads among the nation's right along with us, and we will respect their sovereignty. So what about New York? Don't know. All the bankers will be in Austin. Guess they can survive off the tourist trade. Do you think I'm talking out my butt? Very serious industrialists, CEOs, and financial people are putting their money on Texas pulling this off. How stout is Texas influence on the US economy? How's that gas shortage on the east coast working out for ya? We don't look so funny now, huh?

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

False Flags, Red Flags, and Checkered Flags

There are false flags, red flags, and checkered flags. You must understand the organic nature of media manipulation. First you must see that the main stream media has an agenda. That agenda is to put Hillary Clinton into the White House. Now, I'm going to peel this onion for you. First off, I don't believe the plan of the media is all that tight. The main trick is to maximize Trump’s mistakes, and minimize or misdirect anything that shows Hillary in a bad light.

Hillary was up to her neck in support of Syrian refugees flooding into the United States with less security than the Rattlesnake Saloon in Florence, Texas. Every time Trump said anything on the subject he was portrayed as the Grand Wizard of the KKK. This is a red flag. Any time you want to target someone, but you just don't have the hard proof it’s usually called a red flag. This is what I referred to as organic. While the proof isn't there, so many red flags produce the psychological response of where there is smoke, there must be fire.

False flags are where NOTHING has happened so something fake is invented and falsified, i.e. A false flag. Conspiracy buffs love false flags. Sandy Hook was a false flag. 9/11 was a false flag. The divorce of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie is a false flag, everything is a false flag. If you subscribe to the endless “proof” about false flags you will never get anywhere. I, myself, particularly like the Sandy Hook false flag theory where all the kids are child actors with Steven Spielberg directing. N-Word Please! (I only say that like that to irritate liberals.)

Then there is the checkered flag. Look here, don't look there. This or that is more important than that or this. So, Hillary is championing the import of as many refugees as humanly possible and Ali Baba starts blowing up trash cans all over New York. Hillary looks like a dog eating grass. Now, the MSM doesn't come up with a false flag, they just play the hand that happily fell into their lap. You can tell this is set up by the Illuminati because one of the bombs went off in the Chelsea District of New York. The Illuminati does this kind of stuff. They leave little cryptic clues of their diabolical plan to take over the world. Chelsea District, Hillary’s daughter . . .see how this crap works? Now watch the alternative media run with that and not pay me a penny. Anyway, I digress.

Anyway, due to the enormity of the event the MSM could not deny it outright, and then Tulsa’s finest jumps up and shoots some deacon of a church during a routine traffic stop. It's got all the right stuff. He's black, they're white, he's unarmed, they are from the south, or well, near the south. He pokes his hand into his car while being thrown down on by all those redneck cops and suddenly his black life is mattering all over some farm to market road in Who Cares, Oklahoma.Can I have an “Amen?” Oh, his story pushed Ali Baba down a couple of notches, and Hillary Ramrod Clinton spits yet another hook. It's organic, folks. Mr. and Mrs. “I gotta get to work” America doesn't have time to process all that information so they just go with the lead story, and everyone knows how them people in Oklahoma are, or is that Texas?

The end result is the Oklahoma story clouded the one from New York. If Hillary headed into the debates with Shish KeBab all over her face Trump would have a field day with her. She's still dusting the dirt off her but from her little pratfall at the 9/11 memorial service nine days ago. This news story from Tulsa at least takes some of that off the plate, and barring her falling on her butt (literally) right there on the stage, she may at least still at least TRY to look like a viable candidate while Trump fillets her on live TV.

I don't have an opinion on Tulsa right now. What I'm watching is how far the MSM will distance Hillary from those garbage cans as the debates approach. On the election; Trump is pulling ahead steadily, and Hillary is clicking her heals furiously just trying to get back to Kansas. Checkered flag. Always waved at the winner.



Sunday, September 18, 2016

Press Briefing on NYC Bombing

We now have the official statement on the bombing, yesterday, in New York City. It was delivered by Mayor Bill de Blasio. Transcript as follows:

“Yesterday there was an explosion in the Chelsea neighborhood. At this time we are not going to call this a bombing. The reasoning is this; After extensive investigation by the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, the Bureau of Land Management, and the Food and Drug Administration we have taken several facts into account. First off, what appeared to be an explosive device turned out to be a pressure cooker. Naturally, this led to the possibility that there was an effort by someone to prepare food there. After study of the remains of the cooker a faulty pressure valve was discovered. This, of course, would lead to a buildup of pressure causing the cooker to burst, giving the illusion of a bomb being placed. Such was simply not the case.

There has been found that there was some residue around the area, and the Food and Drug Administration called in an expert from Bossier City, Louisiana, one Alex “Slap Yo MaMa” Jones who tested the residue, and rendered a conclusion, which in part read, ‘Yeah, dat’s chicken alright.’ We didn't want to jump to a hasty conclusion by suggesting that this was anything except what it was, a faulty pressure cooker filled with chicken. Our friends in the Islamic community have supported this investigation fully, and we're very happy that the pressure cooker wasn't filled with ribs, or pork roast so they didn't have to suffer that indignity. While the owner of the pressure cooker has not been identified as of yet we have several witnesses who have come forward to tell us if President Obama had a son he would look like him.

So, we can now move beyond this unfortunate event, and be stronger together. We have concluded that this explosion has nothing to do with other events on the same day, which we categorize as ‘unfortunate similarities.’ There is, of course, a movement under way right now to institute pressure cooker control, but that has nothing at all to do with this happening. Fortunately for our friends in the Democratic Party there is no provision in the constitution supporting the private ownership of pressure cookers. Any reference to cooking devices that may be there would certainly be referring to iron pots over a fire and not the modern devices we have now which the founding fathers certainly had no way of foreseeing, and would not have wished the general public to have access to such implements. President Obama is sending ten thousand buckets of KFC to Iran in a show of solidarity with our new friends there. . This concludes this press briefing.”

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Stupid is as stupid does. I don't make jokes. I just watch the main stream media, and report the facts. Tip of the hat to Will Rodgers. I got up at 5:30 this morning. Clicked on the weekend edition with the obligatory chick who presents herself as unbiased, and watched the morning news. I do this because the other choice is “Teen Titans,” and I've seen them all. It just kept coming and coming. Where were these girls when I was back in high school. I have a fantasy. As I take my morning shower, I imagine I'm taking it with Robin Meade. Hey! Wanna know how ignorant I am? I just found out this week she was black! I'm just a simple old boy from Austin. I thought she was either a Mexican or from California, but I digress. I need to be careful saying stuff like that about famous people. I'm a little fish in a big pond with huge fish like Michaela swimming above me. . . oops, huge fish, Michaela . . . her weight. Might want to check with Crystal Lee on that one.

The big news this morning, and I mean top story, was Donald Trump finally granting citizenship to Obama. Forget about North Korea preparing to blow South Korea off the map, ignore how many people were killed in Chicago last week, it doesn't matter that the people in Flint, Michigan can't even make COFFEE with their tap water…Donald Trump made a statement that this guy who surfaced somewhere in Hawaii, grew up in Indonesia, and released multiple birth certificates was most likely a citizen. Hey, even while I'm writing this article they're running the story again, and calling it the top story. The number two story is even better.

Right after he said that the Donald suggested that since Hillary wants to “adjust” the second amendment, perhaps she should set an example by disarming her security. The liberals leaped upon this like a bunch of savage rabbits. Why, such an idea is absurd. He might even need to be looked into for making a veiled death threat. Wait just a minute. Are they saying that America is not a safe place? Surely Mr. and Mrs. South Bronx don't need a gun to just walk to the store at night. They have police, don't they. Wait! The police have guns! It would be much better if they were disarmed, too. Wouldn't it be more politically correct if a cop comes upon a criminal robbing a 7/11, and pulls out his Billy-Club, saying in a commanding voice, “STOP! Or I'll say ‘STOP’ again!” Let's all join hands for a verse of “Kumbaya.”

Now for a little Texas nationalism. Before I launch into this I'd like to point out that the term, “Texas Nationalism” has a ring to it, doesn't it? I mean, “New York” doesn't lend itself to a phrase like that. After “New York” you'd expect the word “pizza” or “minute,” but the word “nationalism” just won't fit. The word, “Texit” is another. You can't get “New York” in there with a tube of KY Jelly. Anyway, we've said for a while that Texas generates more commerce, money, and goods to the US than most COUNTRIES. Well, the oil pipeline developed a bugger down near Houston and practically the entire East Coast asked our new citizen (Obama) for a state of emergency. They estimate that this plug in the flow of oil would raise the price of gasoline as much as fifteen cents per gallon, and that would crash the economy. That's fifteen cents, people. Try tipping your waiter fifteen cents, and see how that works out for you.

Privacy is important. There is something we've all noticed. Do you notice all the blurred faces on the web, TV, and ad campaigns? I particularly find it funny when the face passes, but the words, “Bubba Likes It”  on the ball cap are blurred out. There is software that does this. Google has that software. There is a picture on Google Maps street view with a cow in England standing by the side of the road . . . with a blurred face! I Crappith thee NOT! A politically correct cow! You can't make this stuff up folks. Google it. For me, I'm gonna Google waterproof posters of Robin Meade. Stupid is as stupid does.


Friday, September 16, 2016

The Equation

There is a life equation, and once you solve it you'll find happiness. It's the act of getting your act together, and realizing that the equation is relative to the reaction to circumstances you find yourself in, . Someone waking up in a homeless shelter will think they got it going on because there's free coffee while a millionaire is irritated because the coffee creamer he likes is out. This is the equation that compares what you want, and what you got, and how you relate to that. You can't always get what you want, but yiu get what you need. If you want a Mercedes, but you drive a Chevy, and you're cool with that, you're good. If you want to stroll into a mall, and shoot everybody wearing a suit, you need a beer! I once had coffee with an old biker in the desert. He had one of those blue chip pots, boiling water on a camp fire with coffee grounds in it. Asked me if I'd like a cup, and I said I would. Poured me a perfect cup of coffee into a metal cup. Then he asked if I liked cream and sugar. I thought this guy was set up so I said I did. He sipped his coffee, looked at the Superstition Mountains, and said, “Yeah, me too.” There was no cream and sugar, but there sure was a memory of days gone by.

There is an old saying, “Where ever you're at, there you are.” If you're my age, and wake up in the morning, that's a big plus. If the lights are still on, and the dog didn't run off during the night then you're on a roll. There's a trick. You can be old, and not “be” old. Willie Nelson says that if you count your blessings through the day it brings your spirit up. And this isn't positive thinking, it's the appreciation on reality. Those emotions are attacked by negative impulses, and most of the time those impulses are delivered by people who haven't worked out that equation I spoke of earlier. Never get answers from someone who still has the chalk in his hand. Consider this: you can't build by tearing down. You know these people. They're all around. They have all the problems, but not one solution. I had to recently step away from someone because he woke up screaming, and cussing every morning. Now, I'm an old hippy. My mornings are coffee, cigarette, a little soundscape music, and check my sources for an idea. Some idiot screaming at the top of his lungs because he's gay, and his boyfriend died three years ago, leaving him penniless is not my idea of a morning. DUDE! I've been married six times! I've lost my butt so many times it’s a miracle I can still go to the bathroom. Deal with it. I'm not gay, and the only reason I pointed that out is that I'm not politically correct, and it's funny. His real problem is a failure to solve the equation. He thinks he still looks like Sal Mineo, standing in a bar with his lips sticking out, and he's a cantankerous old man with an alcohol problem. I've noticed that these kind of guys invariably turn up sprawled out in their living room on those reality cop shows. As opposed to this I have diagnosed myself with “Cowboy STD.” What is that? Well, when you're young imagine your drive as a raging bull inside a corral. At my age, what can't get up, can't get out, and I'm cool with that. See, I solved the equation.

As you age you settle down, or you should settle down, rather. Then you have the answers that no one is hearing because they're still trying to solve the equation. You actually don't solve the equation, the equation solves YOU! Ever how well you take your medicine dictates how long it takes you to heal. Never ask, “Why did I do that?” You DID it! Shut up and move on. It makes people mad when you do that. There they are in a hurricane, and you don't even have an umbrella. And they have all these ideas, these negative ideas. And all the self help books won't help. You want a self help book? Read the Bible. Lotta smart old Jews there, and one guy who wrote the equation.

Always be ambitious. Always strive, but never forget that the ultimate goal is to solve the equation, because once you do that you have the will, and ability to move to the next stage of life. Whatever that stage is, there you are. Savor the moment, because that's all life is. Life is a series of moments, all strung together, dictated by circumstance, and your answer to that circumstance. E = MC2. Eternity equals My Circumstances times two! And there is an eternity. Depending on what you believe it's an after life, or its how you affected people you leave behind. In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make. Oh, that and try not to stand around in a gay bar at sixty-seven years old with your lips sticking out. That always helps.


Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Rules of Life

Rules of life come about when, well, life comes about. I'm sure you've all heard the classic definition of insanity. If you keep doing the same thing over, and over again, then you're nuts! I submit that you may not be totally nuts, having been born in the Deep South sometimes people are just stupid. Anyway, I try to formulate rules as I go along, and be warned, my rules are a little left of center because I'm the guy who walked off my steady job and went to Nashville to be a star, and if that's not nuts I'm not a white boy from Austin!

1) Never remarry an ex wife.
2) When in the shower, and you wash your butt, turn the hot water down.
3) Never put a beer into the cup holder on your dash.
4) Beer before liquor, never sicker.
5) If you find yourself talking to yourself, and lose the argument, recalibrate.
6) Never approach a girl sitting by herself in a bar. (I don't believe in Santa either.)
7) Never drink blended whiskey, cheap beer in a thirty pack or wine in a box.
8) Never look at a cop while driving.
9) Never pet someone else's dog when they make a point to say, “He doesn't bite!”
10) Drive at least five miles under the speed limit in Florence, Texas, and don't look at the cop.
11) Never try to explain the music business to your brother who’s been in the Electrical Union for forty years.
12) Never own an “inside” cat.
13) Never clean your ears with someone else's keys.
14) Don't eat gas station burritos unless you're constipated.
15) Keep your house orderly and clean. It makes people think you're on the ball, even if you're not.
16) Try to make your bed at least once a week.
17) Never believe any advertisement.
18) Do not answer “800” calls.
19) Always wash your hands well after eating jalapeños. You'd be amazed at all the places your hands go during the day.
20) And last, but not least, rework your rules of life every day.

Monday, September 12, 2016

The Magic Two by Four

How many times does Hillary have to be helped up steps, shoved into a van, or get picked up off the ground before liberal democrats begin to see that this woman does not need to sit in the Oval Office? The incident at the 9/11 memorial yesterday is just the latest in a long line of health events that have plagued her since she fainted at home in 2012, and received a concussion. Her exit from one of the debates was a red flag, and stops to rest on the way out of a  building a few months ago only added fuel to the fire, a fire she tried to put out by dismissing the entire matter as “conspiracy theories.”

You have to ask yourself, if she can't sit in a chair during a memorial service then how is she going to face Putin for prolonged periods of time, indeed, how is she going to work the strenuous job of running the country, even with Bill helping? She does put on a brave front, but the cameras are recording the catastrophic train wreck that is the democratic quest for the White House. I told you the dems were gonna run her even if they had to shove a two by four up her butt to hold her up, and by golly I was right! When she crawled into that van yesterday I was looking for the two by four.

It's sad to win an election because the other candidate is sick, and Hillary's sick. Sicker than FDR, and he was in w wheel chair. Of course there's the old “Clinton dodge” going on here, too. Friday she was diagnosed with pneumonia, but her campaign kinda forgot to let that out until she left that slimy trail from the memorial to the van. It took three Secret Service to get her in. Took that many to get JFK out of the limo in Dallas.

It will be interesting to see how she does in the upcoming debates with Trump. Between coughing fits, bathroom breaks, and fainting spells I figure she’ll answer up to five or six questions. Ok folks, let's get real. This is a game changer. Even the main stream media is running this story, and God knows they don't run anything that makes a liberal democrat look bad. The WTF factor is kicking in, and the longer she stays home, misses scheduled dates, and wears those glasses the more people are going to question her ability. To his credit, Trump hasn't really capitalized on this. He doesn't have to. It's the lead story everywhere.

The election will ramp up from this point forward, and Hillary is already dragging. What if she wins? Then she goes from campaigning to actually running the country. She looks so bad now she actually makes Bernie Sanders look good! Hillary, Trump, and Sanders are all three “reptile baits.” She's sixty-eight, Trump’s seventy, and I think Sanders loaned a pen to Lincoln to write the Gettysburg address. What am I talking about? I'm a reptile bait,too.

Hillary can't drop out. The democrats have lots of two by fours, but this is a game changer, and even though Trump didn't jump right on it, it's STILL there. Everyone knows. All Trump has to do is pump up the volume, and she'll fade. She'll go to work for the Clinton Foundation and we’ll get a brand new wall with TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP! flashing in neon lights across the top. Oh, and Whoopi Goldberg can book her flight.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

I Woke Up Sixty-five Years Old This Morning

I woke up sixty-five years old this morning. Turning sixty-five is a milestone. First off, if you grew up in the sixties you never thought you'd make it this far. Back then we thought anyone over thirty was brain dead, and you should never trust them. If you think Obama is a trip, try Lyndon Johnson, add a dash of Nixon and you get Carter. Castro ran Cuba through the whole mess. Kinda makes you wonder, but I digress.

This morning I woke at the usual time. I DID wake up, but I'll address that later. For me, Sunday is just another day, but THIS Sunday is my birthday. Yeah, I was born exactly fifty years before 9/11, lucky me. On that day, fifteen years ago I woke with a hangover. I'd celebrated with friends the night before, and after the first plane hit I thought it was like when the Empire State Building was hit way back when. When the second plane hit, like everyone else, I knew it was something different. Funny thing though, with all the experts surprised to see them fall, as I watched the news footage, I EXPECTED the towers to fall. When the first one went down, I just waited for the next. I can never explain how I knew that, I just did!

So anyway, I woke up sixty-five years old this morning. I always wake up with a positive attitude and then the planet screws it up for me, but no big deal, that's what locks on doors are for. Point of interest, there wasn't a University of Texas Longhorn cheerleader resting beside me, but I'm working on that. I'm looking for my perfect match and so far it's my dog. She licks toes. It's hard to find a girl who does that.

I've developed a passion for peach flavored tea. I tried raspberry, but it didn't work out for me. Now this is the weird part. Our Texas supermarket does this big ad thing about “all natural” this and that, showing some small Texas farm, complete with happy family, and the obligatory foxy daughter. Uh, they don't show all the illegals picking the peaches, but here’s the funny part. When I drink their “all natural” peach tea I'm good! Hey, I'm allergic to peaches, connect the dots. If I consume peach ANYTHING the dots are all over my face. Hope the daughter is all natural at least.

I'm actually not that much different from when I was forty, or fifty. I think the change came for me at thirty-five or so. I have a formula, now work with me on this; I believe you are over the hill when you can date a girl who was born AFTER you got your first divorce. Long about that time girls also start holding doors open for YOU!

I walk slower now, but not because I'm tired, or weak, or anything like that, but rather I've learned with my bad leg that if I place my feet carefully that I  tend to fall on my butt far less often. The commercial, “I’ve fallen, and I can't get up isn't as abstract for me as it used to be.” I don't watch Doctor Oz, nor any of those Big  Pharma commercials.  Oz is an idiot, and the commercials irritate me. They always end with something like, “If you begin to lose your vision, hearing, have chest pain, paralysis on the right side or bloody diarrhea, contact your doctor immediately.” Then, you see this smiling old wench playing with her grandkids, and the voice says, “You can live without the heartbreak of a dry scalp!” Jesus! Rub some oil in your hair!

I find that I really stop at stop signs, and look both ways now. This comes from years of seeing what happens when you DON’T stop and look both ways. That, and I'm not in a big hurry to get anywhere anyway. I go to the supermarket every day because I like to ride the little cart. If your sixty-five, and in a cart at the supermarket you'll find girls will reach to the top shelf to help you get something. Young girl, shorts, tank top, stretching to reach the raisins . . . I digress again. I think the main difference in aging is that over the years you become acutely aware that you can go to bed, and wake up dead! At twenty you wouldn't even consider such a possibility, but the idea becomes more manifest as the years roll by. Also, if this happens when you're twenty there is a big investigation. At sixty-five or seventy or so people just think it's about time!

The bad part is my whiskey-drinking, smoking family tends to live into their late eighties or nineties. So, most likely I'll be rewriting this article someday. Wonder how many more articles I'll have written by then, and what will we be writing with? Maybe we’ll just talk into our palm, and people will know what you're thinking. I'll probably still be thinking about raisins on the top shelf.

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Hard to Accept

It's hard for me to accept the 9/11 is now history, being taught to kids in high school who were born after the towers fell. It's hard to accept  the New York skyline without them. It is had to accept a scar that never healed. It's hard to accept an administration throwing the doors open for the same type of people who perpetrated the attack to just waltz into the country with no more security check than Disneyland. It's hard  to accept anyone not understanding Donald Trump’s simple message of restricting these people. I'm just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, but did I miss something here?

The late, great Muhammed Ali once said if he saw a thousand rattlesnakes coming at him, and only fifty wanted to bite him, while the other nine hundred and fifty meant him no harm, he'd STILL slam the door. And, friends and neighbors, that's what we need to do now, slam the door. Saudi Arabia was up to its eyeballs in the attack on the Towers. The congress, yesterday, passed a bill allowing the survivors of the attack to at least sue that nation for grievances. Obama has stated he’ll veto the bill. (N-Word PLEASE!) How y'all like that. I'm trying to smooth out my vernacular. Crystal Lee will be so proud.

Back to what I was saying. The Italians have a phrase; “Insult me to my face.” That’s what Saudi Arabia, Obama, Hillary Clinton, and most of the Democrats have been doing. What that means is that they are so unconcerned with us that they can screw us again, and again, without even trying to hide it because they feel that they are untouchable. I'm going to be blunt with you guys. Trump is not a politician. That, and he's got some flaws, but when I look at the Hillary camp, I'd vote for El Chapo before I voted for her. At least he doesn't just let his dope dealers get killed. Did someone say, “Benghazi?” There are probably more terror cells in America right now than there are in Iran! It don't take much, folks. We've already seen,that. The towers fell and the president, supposedly the most “powerful man in the world” flew in circles for hours like a fool while the Secret Service talked into their sleeves and, wore those silly sunglasses that tell everyone over two years old who they are.

Times are about to get rough. If Hillary wins the wholesale attack on America will be ON, and this ain't tin foil hat stuff, folks, it's real! If Trump wins there will still be trouble. You don't think the radical Islamists are going to just pack up and go home, do you? If you believe that have I got a “Gun Free Zone” sign to sell you, and it's on sale! Au Contraire! Muhammed and the boys will step up the game because they'll realize their time is short. You can kiss LA. New York, Detroit, and every other major city good bye. If you will note, there are no Texas cities in that list. Wanna know why? Because when it all goes down we’ll round up all of them bad boys and hang ‘em right in the street for all the people to see, THAT’S why. Then we'll go republic, and if you won't eat a McRib you don't get in. It's really that simple.

We in Texas grieve for America. That's why we’re trying to resurrect it, and I used the right word because it's as dead as a ham sandwich. Like I've said before, we don't even have to write a constitution, we’ll just use theirs, they're not doing anything with it at the time. You don't understand. We’re not really seceding from America, we’re trying to give it BACK to you, because if Americans, real Americans see that our plan works we will end up with fifty sovereign nations, banding together with a common heritage, yet distinct, making that nation great again, and then maybe, just maybe the dead of 9/11 can finally rest in peace. Yet, all these things are hard to accept. Texas is America’s last chance, and my friends in the great white north, we’re on your side. You know us. We’re the guys who'll hole up in a crumbling Adobe church and shoot at you, and we damn sure can't count to five thousand!


Thursday, September 8, 2016

Consequently, I Live Alone

I am a creature of habit. Consequently, I live alone.  I hate to admit that, but it's true. I get up the same time every morning. Don't need an alarm clock because I have a dog who pees. I set the coffee pot the night before so I don't have to think before my first smoke. I brush my teeth, and most mornings I shower, unless I'm tired, hung over, irritated, or have a good idea for an article, then I do a “spit bath” and go to the kitchen to meet the day. I've found that a good litmus test is if you can smell your feet you probably need a shower. Dog don't care. Shucks, she's a dog! Women should be more like dogs. Some are, actually, but I digress.  Consequently, I live alone, which can suck at times, but it has its moments, and one of those moments is not having a chick to order you around in the morning before you can see. I love getting up in the morning and doing exactly what ---> I <--- want to do. The minute “she” makes you go to Starbucks instead of her going to  the kitchen the negotiation of your freedom begins, and that night the return on investment is her headache. (Consequently, I live alone.)

Facebook now has this wonderful feature called “Memories.” As you know I write a bit, so my memories consist to a great degree of hundreds of previous articles, and since I've been under the scrutiny of publishers for quite some time now, I don't have to spell check much because I'm from Texas.  I try not to “drill down” on any subject, flying high above the issues, and allowing my readers to form opinions on their own. Surprisingly I don't get much hate mail, unless you count that girl in India, but she's probably eating roaches anyway so what does she know? Anyway, I will look at the article a bit, and put it out there. I haven't been as widely read as I am now, so these pieces are new to some. Others who have seen them did so last year, two, or even three years ago, so the posting is nostalgic for them, or perhaps they didn't read it then, but do now. At any rate that gets the day rolling (and, again, I don't have to think much.)

I used to scan the news for ideas, but I've discovered that I can get more from talking with my dog so I gave that up, and I just check my mail. Ideas “cook” in my head. I honestly don't know where they come from, I just know that when one is done it pops out. Along about this time I get my morning call from Ted. Ted is my partner in this conspiracy, and he has more degrees than a thermometer, so he guides me toward a semblance of literacy, with is always a plus. He throws the ball, and I put it over the fence. I think I understand about every third word he says.

I don't get tied down by endless citing of facts. For one it’s boring. It bores me to write like that, and with my demographic of readers I KNOW it bores them, so I just don't do it. I try not to lie much, but I'm a Texan, and you know how we are. Hey, I've been married six times stand up Christian, so you know I can spin a yarn. Been run off so many times that I thought PMS meant
“Pack my stuff!” (Consequently, I live alone.) Everybody covers their butt, and no one looks into a mirror in the morning with  an “S.O.B.” looking back.

I was a songwriter for years so I'm always looking for a “hook.” A hook is a simple thought that sticks in your head. Once I find a hook I build the article around it. From there the formula is almost always the same. Open, hook, expound, conclude, hook, and out. Of late I've learned about “SEO” or “Search Engine Optimization,” and I will construct according to that. I'm quite good at it, actually, and if you don't think so just Google “Killeen Independent School District,” and see what pops up on page one right UNDER their official web site!

From there I go through a distribution routine that I came up with, and watch the numbers roll. This is where you learn what people want in the morning. I've found that most people are just like me, I don't want to labor a point, and they don't want to put up with it. I try to obey the rules of syntax, but I don't get all psychotic about it. Back in high school my English teacher told me that I'd never be able to communicate in the English language. So, I just reinvented the language my way, and now I get read by thousands of people like me. Haven't read any of her articles, but I'm sure they're out there somewhere.

After that I touch base with people beginning the steady decent into cocktails. The next day the process begins all over again. One of the basic things about me is I'm happy with my life. There are little things I'd like to fix, but the pluses far outweigh the negatives. As I hone my writing skills, and venture into new areas (The Rise of the Algorithm) I expand my understanding of the human experience, and frankly, understand MY existence, which is complicated, but it's not, actually. I think I'm beginning to attain wisdom, which scares the hell out of me. I'd rather perfect the martini and learn to talk to my dog, which, after enough martinis, may very well happen. Consequently, I live alone.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Take me out to the ball game. I went to my first in Nashville years ago. It was a minor league team, and there’s just something about being there. I went to a football game in San Diego, and the feeling was the same. All of that having been said, with everything else going to hell, the ball games have naturally fallen prey to lives mattering, restrooms crowded, and, of course, if Obama had a son he’d be making about eight mil a year, and sitting through the National Anthem!

Colin Kaepernick chose to sit this one out, and of course we had to check the politically correctness meter to see how many lives mattered,  laws were passed, or quite frankly, if he’d make any difference to the game. Hey, I never heard of this guy. He might be the bomb, I don't know. I stopped keeping track of players when Mickey Mantle retired.

Did you ever notice when you go to a ball game that you leave your car, stand in line, find a seat, (the CHEAP seats) and leave the world behind? You're not worried about the Zika Virus, walls, Hillary’s last coughing fit, or where Bruce Gender took a leak last night. For a couple hours the world can turn without you, and the grandkids can  have popcorn.

Back in the day the ball players were heroes. Babe Ruth had a drinking problem, but all we saw was him pointing to where that home run hit was going for that little boy in the hospital. Jesse Owens was black as a cup of coffee, but America cheered when he jerked Hitler’s shorts in a knot, and don't even get me started about the Cowboys. Tom Landry really did take it all with him.

Now the playing field is a stage for political action. Ok, numb nut! We don't CARE if you're irritated about the color of your skin. Our children and grandchildren are in the stands, wide-eyed at the spectacle, and don't understand what all the fuss is about, when you won't honor the very country that made you a millionaire for running, and throwing a ball. Did you know that in Rome, the gladiators were mostly slaves, cheered on just like those in the NFL today? And, if they fought real hard, and pleased the crowd they got a wooden sword, and you can bet your boots they stood with everyone else when the emperor showed up. (He was the guy buying the pizza and beer.)

Still, I believe a man should have the right to follow his conscience. If he wants to sit out the anthem, then that's his free choice. You know, when you're doing what you know is right, money doesn't matter. If you feel in your heart of hearts that you are doing what God meant for you to do then you are fulfilling His role for you. So, why don't you throw that nasty old football down, and go to work for Black Lives Matter? I'm sure they'll pay you well!


Sunday, September 4, 2016

The Killeen Independent School District

The Killeen Independent School District is a predatory, profit based entity that is a danger to children and needs to be reviewed by the state of Texas. Oh, my bad, good Sunday morning, and happy 4th y'all. I was looking for a diplomatic way to write about this, but they weren't very diplomatic with me so I'm gonna return the favor. We’ll see how they like my mutton.

My ex has a heart condition. Periodically she has to return to Texas for an update at Austin Heart, and did so again this summer. Now, without a long, boring recitation of our family history, suffice to say we have concluded a five year saga to secure my five grandchildren, Puck, Just-a-Bobby, Skinny Head, Nick the Lawyer, and New Baby. As you know, my ex’s deceased husband, Joe, adopted them and bequeathed all his military benefits to them, including a six thousand square foot home on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. This process was expedited by a very wonderful worker with the CPS. Nichole, who was brought to tears when I told her Joe’s plan, and the possibility that he wouldn't make it because the clock set by Agent Orange was ticking, and it looked like the “Ol’ Sarge” wasn't going to take his last hill. Well, with the her help, and an iPhone Joe DID appear in court, from his death bed, and the children are set up for life!

My grandchildren had a rough ride early on, with Puck, a type one diabetic, falling into coma, and all the others enduring abuse of one form or another, but they're strong, and they got ATTITUDE! In foster care they formed the “gang of five” and survived! The serenity of Salt Lake, and the influence of the LDS culture went a long way. They clung to each other when they entered public school. Enter the Killeen Public School system.

Remember the day when teachers taught reading, writing, and “rithmatic?” Well, that's not the KISD! Why heck no! They are social engineers, psychologists, advisors to the governor’s council, you name it. Now, bear in mind that Killeen is a camp town with a huge military presence. This in itself is not a bad thing. The town has everything you'd want in the way of food, entertainment, and access to Dallas, Austin and San Antonio. The problem is that a large percentage of the teachers are NOT from Texas, know nothing about the culture, and will most likely not spend the rest of their lives in Killeen.

Our issues began at Bellaire Elementary. Soon after the kids entered school we were deluged with CPS cases. Bobby slipped and fell in the school yard, CPS case. Puck cut her bangs too short, CPS case. Her blood dipped, CPS case, AND EMS, police, and maaaaaany meetings concerned with the “state” of the children. Now, ask yourself, what could be driving all this? Well, I'll make it simple, and just tell you. It seems that several teachers had divided up the children and called the CPS repeatedly, trying to use it as a tool to engineer a foster adopt situation. This is not speculation, people, they were bold enough to state this publicly, interjecting that my ex, and Joe were “too old, and frail!” We went to home schooling.

Now, we didn't just trot over to Walmart for a Big Chief tablet (do they even make those any more?) Heck no! We got up off of thousands (I'm not kidding) of dollars, and got materials and school plans from an accredited CHRISTIAN entity. Every day was school, with the weekends reserved for field trips to the Alamo, the Capitol, and any place else in Texas that could be integrated into the process. Joe bought the house in Utah, and began to make his journey from Austin to Salt Lake City as he slowly went down. Oh, yeah, my ex had a heart attack just for good measure and had to take a day off. After Joe died we found ourselves in Texas settling his estate. We thought (foolish) that we could enroll the kids in school to give us free time as we did this. Well, the attacks began immediately, this time assisted by a neighbor who was a volunteer at Bellaire, and guess what? She already had several foster children, complete with a check, of course, would just LOVE to have a little girl to round out the family. This was the same lady who call SWAT when the twins had a stick fight in the back yard. Yep, another CPS case! BACK to home schooling, and BACK to Utah.

Utah people are unique. In the town that the children lived in, the people there were descended from families that pushed wheel barrows over the Rockies to settle the area that the Prophet, Brigham Young referred to as “the place!” They KNOW kids! There was a big difference between a Killeen teacher who couldn't find Killeen on the map a year ago, and a big, strapping Mormon missionary doing his duty to the church down at the “Boys and Girls Club.” It's as different as this: If a child shows up for school up there, and are a little tattered, elderly people volunteer time combing hair, changing socks, and getting a hot breakfast into them. Bellaire? You got it! ANOTHER CPS case!

Now, I'm not attacking the CPS in this article. They are bound by law to investigate all reports, but they weren't born yesterday, and they weren't born in the dark, and as time went by they began to understand that the area around that particular school was a glowing red dot of cases. It appeared that the Turtle Bend subdivision had the worse parents in the state. So many reports were filed that eventually the principle decided to change jobs, but that's none of my business. Have another portion of mutton.

While in Utah we went back to home schooling, but not for a bad reason. Home schooling was just easier than ferrying five children to school every day, and it had the support of the local school, who even had people drop by to assist now and then. As time went by my Ex had to return to Texas this summer for her checkup. Before she left she enrolled the kids in public school in Utah. There were several reasons for this. The kids took a vote, and wanted to socialize. New Baby wasn't old enough to go, but got to eat breakfast with his brothers and sister at school, and that made him feel like he was in “school.” Bear in mind he was being home schooled none the less, and could read, write, and cruise Facebook. He was. FIVE!

So, my Ex came down for the tune up. The doctors wanted to do a stent. School started in Killeen during that time, with Utah about a week later. We had a grease fire in our main house in Killeen, and had relocated to another one of our homes there. With recovering from surgery, and rebuilding the burned house, we put the kids into Clifton Park, the school that serviced that part of Killeen. This school was situated less than a mile down Jasper Road from Bellaire. We were STILL home schooling, with intentions of returning to the Salt Lake within a week. The children were enrolled up there, and there was full communication with Utah. Within ONE day we had problems. Side comments from teachers declaring that they’d love to have Puck because she was so cute, and obviously my Ex couldn't handle five children. What happened to reading, writing, and “rithmatic?”

We were right on schedule. My Ex went to withdraw then babies for the trip home one Friday. After the children were gathered the delays began. Everything from having to find backpacks right up to trying to remove them to separate rooms. My Ex finally just took the kids to the car and left! The journey back to Bountiful is just another field trip for the kids. Yep, home schooling even then! Bear in mind the kids were completely checked out of KISD at this time. Well, she's on the way home and you guessed it . . . here came the CPS! We had a very short conversation on my lawn, and they left. Now, part of what Clifton Park was claiming was that the kids were “poorly educated” and had to be put back one or two years due to home schooling and that the Utah schools were not up to standard.  They were even going to put New Baby back, and it was his first week of public school, outside the complimentary breakfasts in Utah, figure that one out! Interesting note; upon return home he was found to be “talented and gifted” as is Puck. Also, Nick the Lawyer, one of the twins, has been nicknamed that for a REASON! The Killeen school declared that the twins could not read, but that didn't stop them from having them SIGN the school rules which several things. First, and foremost, the twins COULD sign their names, implying they could read SOMETHING. That means they could read, so the school lied. Or, they couldn't read and the principle forged the document, which means SHE lied! I

Presently, the children are in school. They are also home schooling at the same time. Guess that makes up for the “sub-standard” Utah schools, huh? Sub-standard. In a state where five year olds can read the Bible! Teacher PLEASE! My question to the parents of Killeen. Let's just say I'm only half right in all I've said here. Do you really want to trust your precious children to this system? When you see your child go through those doors, do you really know what's going on on the other side, with teachers, and staff grooming your child for foster adopt  rather than concerning themselves with education?  Do you really KNOW the teachers? I mean REALLY know them. My involvement with this issue  seems to be centered on two schools, less than a mile apart, and staff that flows between them. It may trickle out to other schools, but I have not had direct interaction with them. I am NOT speculating, these are things that I've seen, and have been advised by people inside the system. My solution? Get involved! Go to the  PTA. Question teachers. Challenge staff. If I stay in the area I intend to become involved, and bring the full weight of my connections, both state and national to bear on this issue and these people. Hey! They came to ME! Just playing by the rules they set. This weekend I attended a rally in Austin,  and was surprised to find a number of well placed people who were very involved in this problem. I learned about Common Core, the financial incentives behind Star tests. I learned about the addiction of public schools to federal money, which, by the way was not a small part in the saga above. One teacher returned from a meeting while my ex as in the office and said there weren't enough special Ed kids, and they had to come up with more. Well, wouldn't you know there were five federal grants sitting right there in the office. Time to call the CPS!  In conclusion: Be apathetic about the election. Be apathetic about secession, but for God’s sake don't be apathetic about the safety and welfare of your children! They're out there, folks, and they're open for business . . . YOUR business, YOUR kids, YOUR life!