Haven’t picked up a pen in 33 years.
Tip o’the hat to John Boren. He doesn’t know it, but watching his creative process has prompted me to pick up a pen.
Category: independence
Impressionable?
You are not free until you have no need to impress anybody.
I’m unimpressed. Or maybe I’m not.
Independence In Isolation
We’re spending Independence Day weekend boondocking at John Martin Reservoir State Park. As today is only July 2, there are only two other campers in the campground: a class A and a group in tents. Tomorrow afternoon, it’ll fill up–then it’ll clear out completely on Sunday morning.
Veterans Day, 2011
My Brothers and Sisters:
Today, we remember and recognize our fallen comrades. However, we must also take a few moments to consider ourselves.
This one is for those who fought, sacrificed, and gave their all for a shared idea that is America. This is for survivors, all: those who faired well, others didn’t; those with scars and wounds to share with children and grandchildren; and those with the invisible scars nobody will know.
We did it for our nation and what it stood for: freedom and independence.
We did it because others couldn’t or wouldn’t.
Today, I watch the citizenry around me to see what they’re doing with their freedom and independence that people like us gave them. Do you know what I see when I look?
Terribly misguided people who readily give up those things that we believed in and fought for.
Angry, confused, disorganized mobs of people demanding “equality” but who are incapable of understanding what it means nor how to achieve it.
A government machine driven by figureheads who are more than happy to keep us all in harm’s way both figuratively and literally.
The same government gutting the very documents that we all swore to uphold and defend; the very documents that authorize them the power to direct and command us.
I see that today, for the first time in my years of knowing Veteran’s Day, I feel that our efforts may have been wasted because so many are so willing to give up that which we were so devoted to.
But then I look a bit closer:
I see soldiers and sailors and servicemen who are still unconditionally, unreservedly, absolutely committed to the cause of freedom in America.
I also see the steadfast veterans and retirees who, while they may have been away from active service for years or even decades, who still carry that spark in their hearts.
I see us.
As long as we have breath in our lungs to share our commitment, to fight for what we believe in, there is hope for the future.
Free Advice
So I went to Gander Mt. today (on the way to the range) and, of course, I’m in the kilt. Today’s was the choco-Workman (kinda like this, but not black), thankyouverymuch.
While at Gander Mt., I noticed that they’re now stocking a large assortment of 5.11 Tacticool garments, so I browse the wares. While browsing, a small group of five mouth-breathers presumably on a shopping expedition from their hunting trip notice the kilt, encircle us about 20 ft away, and unleash with Teh Stoopid. There were lots of remarks in a short period, but one that stuck in my head was, “little faggot in a skirt”.
Uh-huh.
Little? Perhaps — I’m only 5′ 7″.
Faggot? Nope. I’m quite hetero, thanks.
Skirt? Well, it’s called a kilt. If I wore something under it, then it would be a skirt.
So, here’s the tip, lads: if you’re intent on picking a fight, perhaps you should exercise a bit more caution in your victim selection. You see, what you failed to realize is that while the “little faggot in a skirt” remained extremely calm but made eye contact with each of you and was very aware of exactly where each of you were standing and that each of you were openly armed with various knives, he was also very well-prepared to defend himself and his nearly adult-son from five very large, armed assailants:
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| 50 rds each 45 & 9mm, 15 ft., Mozambique drills. |
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Update: Just had this little ditty bouncing around my head:
Home, home on the range
Where the nines and the 45s play
Eh… make it up as you go.
the rest of me 