Avenging Angel

The Gay Alliance has taken dead aim at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. As usual the three percent of the population has the opinion that their opinion is the opinion, and the rest of us must kiss the glove, or whatever else they wish to have kissed. They have chosen this course of action because it has worked so well with other Christian denominations in the past, such as the Episcopal Church, who caved in to the God of Political Correctness, so, naturally, they believed that the Mormons would follow suit.

The current prophet of the LDS Church Thomas S. Monson, while conceding to the right of all Americans to own property, enjoy a peaceful life, whatever that life may be, followed up by letting everyone know that same sex is not the behavior of the brethren in any shape, form or fashion. Here come the Rainbow flags in full regalia. Now this works most of the time, most recently in Kentucky, where the modern response to any resistance by the LGBT is met by complete capitulation. The image of the two young men at the door, elder this and elder that gives an illusion of tranquility. Boys and girls I give you  Porter Rockwell.

Porter was known as an Avenging Angel. As a child he knew Joseph Smith, and reportedly was one of the first to hear of the vision Joseph had concerning the golden plates, the angels, and all the things that would later find their way to the Mormon belief set. Porter was illiterate and believed every word Joseph said. Joseph told him to never cut his hair, and that would make him invincible. Looks like it did because Porter demonstrated his ability many times and survived gun fights, one after another. It is a matter of debate if Brigham Young actually ordered him to do his job, or if he was just a loose cannon defending the church his childhood friend started. He did take it very personal that Smith told him not to come to his side in the Carthage jail on June 27, 1844. Suffice to say if Porter had been on the other side of that door the results would have been decidedly different. Porter made the Outlaw Josey Wales look like an altar boy.

If you remember, in my article “Quarters in a Cup,” I allude to something I call “Mormon Culture.” While, as you know, I have a field day with religion, I have no issues with that culture. They saved my grandchildren, and that puts them on the “friends” list. To put it in Killeen vernacular, the Mormons are “down” with family, family being boy meets girl, make baby, raise baby in their home, baby goes on mission, comes back to Salt Lake and goes to work. They don’t understand boy meets boy, and whatever happens next, which is not what Joseph Smith came up with on the Hill Cumorah, and have no intention, whatsoever of letting Rainbow Flags fly above the temple in Salt Lake City.

So, what’s the connection between Porter and the LGBT? Porter was the chief of the Danites. Don’t ask, just know that the Mormons believe in tribes of Israel and the Danites are like, well, Joshua. The Church has absolutely no intention of diluting their entire mindset to accommodate a complete bastardization of everything they hold to be holy and true. While their theology may be different, their focus on mom’s apple pie is quite clear.

The Gay Alliance has drawn a line in the sand in Utah. While churches such as the Episcopalian go through multiple con-fag-ulations, trying to fly under the radar, and the Bible, and the Christian thought of two thousand years, the constitution, not to mention common sense, the Mormons will have none of this. Boys are boys, girls are girls, God is God, and Bruce Gender is a freak.   Case closed. You will never see an LDS sanctioned same sex marriage. You know, when you’re right you’re just right. Could it be, if there really is a God that he chose a people with a heart for America, and the steady hand of Porter Rockwell?

 

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

I Have Dream

I have a dream. I see an America where you can go into a restroom at any time, regardless of gender, and indulge in any act of depravity that suits your fancy, I have a dream. I envision a time when you can have relations with any person, of any sex, anywhere, anytime, and if that person is a child it will be understood that you are not diseased you are only “minor attracted,” I have a dream! A world where only the most disenfranchised, the most confused, the most sociopathic are allowed to have a gun and the rest are secure in gun free zones oh, I have a dream today.

I can clearly see a time when the Statue of Liberty will welcome the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to take everything they can without even a bubble gum wrapper of paperwork allowing entry, and their culture will supplant the Constitution because a goat herder talked to some angel in a cave fourteen hundred years ago, I have a dream! I see a beautiful vision where a man is voted woman of the year, and Christian churches throw open their doors to the devil. In this brave new world the Qu’ran will be revered and the Bible will be against the law, where women wear sack cloth and high school cheer leaders are assaulted for being beautiful, oh, Lord, I have a DREAM!!

I see a world where entire cities are turned over to anyone who needs a “get out of jail free” card until those cities are degraded to the level of a war zone and no citizen is safe to even take a bus to the mall, what a glorious dream I have today. I see women being killed while having ice cream on a pier with their father and Judges at a loss trying to decide if it is a crime because the killer is not American.

In my dream I see a school system with standards so low that the Russians laugh at graduates from it who can’t even write their own names, I have a dream today. I see an economy so degraded that the Mexicans start jumping the border to get back into Mexico after they rob, rape and kill, and no man may say anything about it for fear of the god of political correctness, I have a dream today.

I dream of the day when all of God’s children, should they survive abortion, will not be judged by the content of their character, but by the content of their pocket, I have a dream. A day when they run down the middle of the street, under the Rainbow Flag screaming, “Free at Last! Free at last!” I will not be there with you. I shall not cross over. God has not chosen me. Do not be disinherited, however. I’ll be in Canada! I have a dream.

The word you’re looking for is “Facetious.”

 

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

Dead as a BLT

A writer can be drawn into a subject without realizing why. I began investigating the historical Jesus about a week ago, and intended to do a Sunday article on the subject, which I still will do, but before I could lay that piece out I began to investigate serial killers. This is where being a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin  helps. While listening to all these cackle babble heads go on and on about the psychology behind these tail bones I find my solution to be much simpler and direct. I tried to connect all the dots and in the end there were simply no dots there. Finally, I studied a scumbag called the BTK killer.  I watched his total confession of forty-six minutes and this Walter Mitty looking bastard rambled on about each killing as if he were applying for a job. He’d even grown a little goatee to look good for the cameras in the courtroom. As he talked, he referred to his victims as “projects.” He tried to explain that he didn’t properly kill his marks, but as he talked it became apparent that he would choke them out, let them regain consciousness, and choke them again in order to prolong their agony. He ranged from hanging thirteen year old girls, and playing with himself as they twisted to killing old ladies in their beds. Then I noticed a common factor in all the cases. In no incidence did the victims have a gun!

He always had a gun. One time a young man grabbed one of his guns (he carried two) and that was a big heads up for Mr. BTK. When you look at the photos of the people, listen to this guy calmly explain his acts, and observe the faces of the relatives, all the crap spewing from  Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America makes you almost wish this guy had paid them a visit. In their little Pollyanna world they think that if they can just pick up all the guns that all will be well. Well, ladies, BTK also brought a knife and a rope. His guns were just an insurance policy against unforeseen emergencies such as a father or brother.

There are incredibly bad people in the world. People like this, and active shooters almost make ISIS make sense! At least they think they’re fighting a perceived enemy and have a stated purpose. You know what ISIS will do, and they are very public about it. I don’t really think ISIS is going to charge over a hill in Killeen and start shooting, but I believe that out there, somewhere, is some pervert glaring at teenage girls in a school yard from his van dreaming of the day when he can get one of them alone at their house. A gun, and education stops all that.

People trust. That’s a sad fact. One of the victims actually smoked a cigarette while being assured that all the killer was going to do was tie her up and rape her. How much simpler would it have been when she first saw him come out of the closet, if she’d reached in her purse, and shot him fourteen times in the chest, and once in his smart mouth?  

As I watched all the men and women of Kansas law enforcement standing around the courtroom, armed, listening to this animal revel in the deaths of his victims I realized they are better citizens than me. I would have shot him in the back of the head and took the consequences. Bottom line: Even a good dog has a right to bite. Even a fourteen year old girl has a right to preserve her life. A father has the right to be with his family safely without being forced to tie them up, trusting in the integrity of someone who long ago lost the right to walk among decent people, and use air that stray cats need. The right of the people shall not be infringed. BTK should be as dead as a BLT.

 

 

 

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

Kid From Simmonsville

Somewhere there’s some old black men

‘Round an iron stove, drinking beer

Talking ‘bout places that they have been

A long, long way from here

And every line in their worried brow

Shows a lifetime of being used

Every inch in every mile

Between a love song and the blues.

 

It is very important to never forget where you come from. All the events and forces, both internal, and external that made you what you are make up the structure of your life, spirit, mind and understanding. When you deny these things you deny self, and when you deny self you have nothing left. Going home will surprise you. The very things you fought so hard to get away from welcome you with open arms, and you wonder why you ever left in the first place.

The ambition of every kid from Simmonsville was to get out of Simmonsville. The little hamlet in Central Texas was a hodge podge of blacks, Mexicans, and poor white trash, myself being the latter. We didn’t know we were poor white trash, we thought we had it going on. Never mind the fact that none of us had ever seen a color TV, and our shoes smelled bad, we had an equal chance to be president someday. We were delusional.

I kissed my first girl in Simmonsville. Pam Burns. She was a short blonde with a red coat and a booger in her nose. I crappith thee not! When I smacked her I saw it. Still, it was a learning experience. If you were from Simmonsville you had to date girls from Simmonsville. That’s ‘cause you had no money and only girls like that would forgive. They’d be happy with a forty-five cent burger from Burger Chef, and didn’t mind riding in the trunk to get into the drive in movie.

Everybody’s dad had a job in construction, and they were all drunks. That just went with the territory. Back in those days a six-pack was a very big deal. Whiskey was sold by the half pint, and the beer was terrible. Boys always drink the beer their dad drank, and our dads all drank some rank stuff. The beer they drank is long gone because there are laws now. The plan of action was to get girls like Pam Burns drunk. It never worked out. Never try to get a white trash Texas girl drunk. She’ll go from flirt to fight in sixty seconds and doesn’t mind walking home from the movie, whereupon her dad comes looking for you. Forget all that nonsense about assault on a minor, RUN!

If you got lucky you had to get married. Just the way it was. If you got married your life was sealed. Oh, it’s great for about the first week, and then the realization of your social status comes home and there you sit with a girl who has a booger in her nose, only now she’s pregnant. Time and tears go by and one day you are sitting in your truck, out in the yard (no driveways folks) drinking the same beer your dad did, and you begin to understand!

I never married a girl from Simmonsville. I had a habit of marrying Yankees. Been through six or so. In Texas you are allowed to marry up to seven times. I have one more tag left on my “Dear” license, better make the last a good one! Went back to Simmonsville some time ago. It was cold, and I ended up in one of those abode huts that still dot around here and there. There were a bunch of guys there, and they had this old potbellied stove. They had cut up come two by fours, and were feeding them into the stove, passing a bottle around, and of course, there was beer. It was like I never left. New York, L. A. and Austin never happened, and I was just “Billy.” They weren’t impressed by anything I’d written, but they did like some of the dirty songs I’d recorded thirty years ago. I left, got in my Mercedes, and drove away. As I pulled out onto the highway I looked back. I wondered, “Who am I?” Why, in spite of it all, I’m really just a kid from Simmonsville.

 

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

Get a President This Time

 

 The Republican Party has long since moved away from any kind of representation of its constituents into full blown hypocrisy.  There was a time when a dynamic personality would come along and take the populace by storm, and the party would leap to the task. Did someone say, “Eisenhower?” Everyone knew he was going to be president, all they had to do was wait for the election to make it official. Reagan too! So now we have Donald Trump. What amazes me is all the losers in the party who have so much to say about what he says, yet have nothing to say about what they think would be a better idea. The Tea Party came about just to get away from idiots like that.

Let’s look at this. Trump doesn’t want illegal aliens here. Jeb Bush is worried about offending illegal aliens. We know he likes aliens. Did someone say nineteen hijackers? Now, I realize Jeb is from Florida, with Miami being the largest city in Cuba, but do we let illegals vote? I mean when did they get a voice? The party brass responds in concert about how Trump’s ideas won’t work as thousands upon thousands of people flock to his speeches. In contrast the Democrats all rally around Hillary, as she washes the blood from her hands, and shove a two by four up her butt to keep her standing up.

I voted Republican because I believe in family values. I don’t give a flip about gay marriage, I just want the CPS to quit stealing and selling our kids to pedophiles. Forget Planned Parenthood, defund the CPS. They steal so many kids they can’t find software powerful enough to keep up with them all. Family values is what attracts me to Trump. The vain hope that the country just may get stronger, mom’s apple pie will be back in the window sill, and Bruce Gender will not be the woman of the year.

Then, of course, there’s the specter of Mitt Romney. Now, I’m going to be blunt here so you might as well get your crying towels out! Way back in California, in the desert, with a bottle of Jim Beam, I told you people why Romney would never win. He’s a Mormon. Swat them bees, swat them bees. Three things worked against him. First, of course, being a Mormon. For all the spin they are still the polygamous cult out in the desert that sends people to your door. Second, being a Mormon, he was squeaky clean. That’s not human. Trump, by contrast, is not that clean. He marries beautiful foreign girls, has a drop dead gorgeous daughter and makes tons of money. Third, my mother told me that it was almost impossible to unseat a sitting president. Obama is bad, yes, but he’d been in office for four years and Americans just don’t like to change horses in mid-stream.  The Republicans had to runsomebody so they picked a guy that would look good giving a concession speech.

Well, the landscape has changed. Obama is going to retire. The hope of the Democrats is a woman with more scandals than Mylie Cyrus, and Trump is taking the country by storm. The perfect storm. So why the party brass can’t just shut up and let this pony run? Because (now pay attention) we really have a one party system, that’s why. They get together and run a Mormon against a seated president and stood back snake amazed when Obama played basketball with his head. It was always in the cards, folks. Supposed to happen that way. Trump, on the other hand, is a spoiler. He doesn’t owe the brass or any special interest groups a cent, has his own ideas, even his own plane. What we’ll have is Teddy Roosevelt on steroids in the White House, if he even moves in. Someone who, when facing the Chinese at negotiation tables, will be the same New York real estate broker who’s been screwing them for years.

Right now the Republican Party is wearing out political favors to ruin Trump. And forget Ben Carson. After Obama, I don’t think any of us alive now will live to see another black president, and that’s sad because Carson is a good man. He’s going to make a fine surgeon general. Col West will make a great Atty General, and Cruz will round out the team as vice president. All spoilers! What the Republican Party wants is to run something like Bush, or Rubio so that Hillary will be a shoe in. That way the dynasty continues, and the game remains the same. We don’t need that. Let’s just get a president this time.  

 

 

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

Crazy Old Man on Laurel Street

                          Religion is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable.

I hammer this nail over and over again. When I was four years old my grandmother took me to the Baptist church on Laurel Street in Shreveport, Louisiana. I’d sit in the pew and the preacher would scream at me, saying that I was hell bound. I’d try my best to crawl through the pew to get away from God’s wrath, even though I couldn’t see God. I didn’t have to see Him. The man screaming was enough, and I reasoned in my little head that if this guy was that mad at me how much madder could God be since this fellow was only an employee.

My grandmother bought into all of this. She wasn’t evil, she was a Louisiana grandmother, and that’s what you did to your grandkids back then to set them on the right path. If you’ll note I didn’t say my mother was with us, and most certainly my dad wasn’t. I would only learn after his death that dad had been very religious in his younger life, with people telling me he would often come walking through the pines singing gospel songs. That is until his little Baptist girlfriend turned out to be a whore. He walked away. He never talked against religion, he just didn’t buy into it. My mother, on the other hand, was a member of a street band for the Salvation Army. She went from Shreveport to the east coast playing her clarinet and collecting money in a bucket. After granny scared the hell completely out of me, I’d come home and mom would set me straight.

My mother belonged to something I called the First Church of the Human Brain. She believed that the Jews completely screwed up the Old Testament, and Jesus came down and put everything back on track. There were no Adam and Eve, the Red Sea never got parted, pork chops were just fine, and don’t listen to that fool down at the First Baptist Church on Laurel Street. She did feed me catfish on Friday, but we were Cajuns, and Cajuns do that stuff anyway.

After my accident that blessed me with my limp, and a terrible marriage to my first ex-wife, I went down to the Memorial Baptist Church in Killeen, Texas and got saved. Now, I didn’t understand a word in the Bible, couldn’t even recite the Lord’s Prayer, but I was saved! Didn’t save my marriage, however. My wife took off with her sister’s husband. The last time I saw her car at Fort Hood, I noticed a white Bible on the passenger’s seat in the front. I took comfort in that.

Time, tears and ex-wives went by, and I finally settled on a woman I couldn’t run off. She had two boys, and I had two boys. She insisted that we go to Memorial Baptist, and we did. For some reason she put a lot of stock in Rosaries, and by and by I met Father Ev. Father Ev was All American, Notre Dame 1954 and had almost exactly the same views my mother had. I was confirmed on December 26, 2008 at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church down on Rancier Ave, Killeen, Texas.

Brothers and sisters, I was a Hail Mary Catholic. I was a defender of the faith, and would argue tooth and nail with anyone who dared to challenge me. I wrote a book! In “Sharon” I intended to expound the towering theology of Catholicism and its dominance over all other faiths. Didn’t end up that way. Mom’s ghost and Father Ev’s conversations kept coming to me, and that led to the closing scene of the book. In the book a Bible beating revivalist preacher meets a girl, Sharon, who exposes her beliefs to him in a series of five meetings, under a tree beside a church. I intended these meetings to be a huge revelation of the truths of the Catholic Church. The only problem was that Sharon wasn’t talking to the preacher she was talking to me!

In the end of the book, as the preacher lay dying, she comes to him one last time. When he tells her that he still doesn’t understand, she responds with, “The Greeks called me ‘Sophia.’ The Rabbis know me as ‘Shekinah.’ Ibn al Arabi met me during his circumambulations around the Kaaba, and he called me ‘Nizam.’ I whispered into Solomon’s ear when no one else could hear, and I’m the one who knelt before that angel in that little room in Nazareth. For I am the Wisdom of God, and anyone who seeks me with a pure, and diligent heart, may hold me in their arms.”

I have no idea where that statement came from and it only took me twenty years to understand it myself. I began to have questions. I have been called an atheist, but that’s not true. I believe in God. I just don’t believe in man! When man takes quill in hand and tries to reduce God to the pages of a book it never works. If you will note, Jesus didn’t write anything. He spoke! Only centuries later did men take it upon themselves to write those words, and by then the words were shrouded in opinion. Same thing happened to Mohammed. Man couldn’t write a grocery list, but there were enough fools around after his death to codify his desert ramblings for posterity. Joseph Smith could write, and write he did. Got himself blasted out of a window in a county jail by other devout believers with their ownbook of rules.

If you insult Mormonism you get an argument. If you draw a picture of Mohammed you get your head cut off, and if you insult Born Agains they show up at your funeral and call you a queer. Christians can be obnoxious, but Islam is crazy. Yeah, I just said that. Wanna know why? Because Arabs have not evolved to the same point as Western Culture that’s why. Racist enough for ya? Day after day I see ISIS coming up with new and inventive ways to kill infidels. I’ve seen so many I have begun to critique style. From simple beheadings to suspending the elect about a fire and slow roasting them into eternity, ISIS is the master at human misery. The end product of man putting words in God’s mouth! The only difference between them and that crazy old bastard at the Baptist Church down on Laurel Street in the fact that we in the west have developed a frontal lobe, something Muslims simply do not have!

Wanna irritate a Muslim? Just say the name Aisha. She was Mohammed’s little five year old child bride. Now, I’m not getting jellyfish about this. Marrying a five year old is a little left of center, but folks, let’s admit it, all Arabs are left of center, ok? They don’t play with the same cards as the rest of us, and they certainly don’t play with a full deck. To be honest with you, little Aisha was probably the only Arab in history who had a frontal lobe and she proved it by advising and leading the Muslims to the compiling of the Qu’ran. Do I approved of marrying a girl in diapers? Of course not. Do I consider the society that allows this sort of thing? You betcha!

When people try to explain what they do crazy things where marriage is concerned It gets well, crazy! Actually, I fully understand political “marriages” between tribes of Neanderthals trying to weld a connection that will stop continual fighting. Arranged marriages between royalties happened, also. Do I understand a wedding night with Shirley Temple on the Good Ship Lolly Pop? Uh, I’m from Texas. We hang those people down here. I am a product of my culture.

I don’t try to make fun of little religious traditions. From funny little boxes on foreheads, to holy underwear, to beanies in heads, It’s not what’s on the head, it’s what’s inside it. That fella, Jesus said something about that. Whited tombs, I think. Seems He was always right. Just Him and Rush Limbaugh. If your attire makes it for you, fine. Wanna stone a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader for looking good in shorts, problemo!

I break down Bibles, Qu’rans, and Books of Mormon like this: If it’s stupid, or mean, then God had nothing to do with it. Man did that. God created man and woman to support and enjoy each other, and make children. Does God hate homosexuals? Why? They’re not making any babies. If you think they’re an abomination then they’re going to hell. Abortion? God creates life. It’s not man’s providence to judge, or destroy. Seems that same guy from Nazareth said that, too. I can never bring myself to say that there is no God. We still can’t make a leaf! As we discover more about the universe we see that something was involved a bit smarter than a man wandering in the desert, a farm boy, or a crazy old man on Laurel Street in Shreveport, Louisiana!

 

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

Aces and 8's

c I’m going to venture off into gun control again this morning. The argument for self-defense is so logical that it defies said logic that anyone would present a case against it. Yet the left is forever after our rights. I believe that people on the left simply must have some “cause” to justify their existence. There is a group called the “Flat Earth Society.” I crappith thee not, look it up! They expound the idea that the earth really is flat, and it is a huge government conspiracy trying to convince us otherwise. These are the same guys and gals who want legal pot, so I suppose there’s something there. Anyway, the very idea of sitting in a classroom, taking a bullet because some homosexual college dean says so is asinine.

The population has been domesticated down to the point that when the Oregon shooting occurred, and a man charged the shooter, taking around seven bullets, the rest of the class just hunkered down and hoped the gunman would go away! People, it doesn’t work that way. Watch the security cameras from Columbine. There is a type of person where the mind is gone. I don’t buy into all this demon possession crap, but it does give you pause, because they almost all shoot everything in sight, and then, after seeing what they did, shootthemselves!

This is the reason we have the death penalty. All those European countries that shun the death penalty, and now have the problems they have. These girly-men need to do a panties check. These people who select “gun free” zones, and then start popping off victims are not human. What would you do if a rabid dog charged into the room? Maybe if you talk softly, and offer him a treat he’ll just go to the next room, right? Wrong!  Shoot him right in the top of the head. Same with active shooters. How do we stop all these events? Simple. Constitutional carry. Just make it so that when the shooter comes in he knows that most likely he will not leave alive. And don’t be jellyfish about it. Even if he drops his gun and finds Jesus, shoot him anyway! That will stop active shooters.

Are you shocked? Does that upset your sensitivities? Getting shot in the face will disturb you a bit more. Another sample. Getting robbed. Some idiot decides that it’s much easier to rob you at a gas pump rather than getting up in the morning and going to work. He is using oxygen that children in China need. Be a conservationist. Kill him. Nobody will miss him. Well, maybe his mama. You’ll see her on CNN telling everyone how her son was a “gentle giant.” And, of course, the city will give her ten billion dollars which she and her family will spend on crack before the weekend is out.

This is the world we live in. This is the world we’ve always lived in. There have been, and will always be people who will kill, steal, and destroy. There will always be people who say, “No!” You cannot cure the dredge of society by laying down and hoping that human nature will change just because if Obama had a son he’d look like some deranged meth head bent on raping your eight year old daughter. It simply doesn’t work that way. This is why gun control is so illogical. “Gee, I know how to protect the sheep! We’ll pull the sheep dog’s teeth.” How stupid is that? I know I sound like some 1888 gunslinger, but folks, pacification won’t stop mayhem. Wild Bill Hickok stops mayhem!

The prolonged appeal process in death penalty cases is counterproductive. As a Texan, I plainly see that lynching has its place. For some guy who killed an entire family to appeal because he had a bad childhood is to desecrate the dead. These “people” need to understand that society will dispose of them quicker than a dog will chase a cat. Make themdraw to Aces and 8’s!

 

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