Hey, Who Invited Those Guys, Laura??!!

(White Trash infiltrators crash barbeque at Dub's ranch...film at 11)

The School Thang

Well, boy howdy, I talked to the school principal today about that, uh, issue I had about them posters lining my kids' school.
Her side is that it is an unfortunate and horrible misunderstanding.
A second grade teacher had got a "free classroom material" type postcard in her mail there and figured "Sure! Sounds good to me!" and returned the card requesting their free materials.
A few weeks later the posters arrived.
The 2nd grade teacher never even questioned it, or had any reservations. Naive. Clueless. See, I toldja this place was Mayberry.

I asked if she had also got the Teacher's handbook that goes with that offer (I had seen it on the website).
No, I was told, just the posters. But they are nice aren't they?

(Yep, just like a coral snake is pretty.)

I implored her to go check out the sites and see for herself what they had let in the backdoor. I mentioned a few things that I found objectionable. I know her and the people who staff the school, I knew this had be an honest mistake of ignorance. She said she would get back with me.

She called back a few hours later. Apologizing up a storm. "I had no idea! Believe me if we had even knew-well, you know that certainly doesn't reflect our values at all!! I apologize, believe me, I'm just as shocked as you-so, what do you think we should do? They are so nice, I mean, they're colorful and they say good things and all."

I must admit she had me there. I couldn't argue that point. Visually they are nice and have quotes by notable Americans on them. Which once again-damn if ya do/damn if ya don't! See? Now I'm Un-American cuz I object to these things, along with being an intolerant, bigoted homophobic, religious fanatic racist!
Christ, how wickedly evil the genuises behind this must be! Mind Fuggerus Majorus.

Anyway, long story short- I caved some.Ain't proud of it, but hey, I gotta live here, too, as do my younguns. Yeah, I know-no excuse. But my primary worry was the curriculum. Since they had no intentions of introducing any of the curriculum or lessons into the classes, we agreed that the posters could stay. So it was a weak compromise, but my main concern had been addressed...however, the website addy and name would be blacked out on the posters. Because as the principal put it: I would just be mortified if any of our kids went to those sites and saw that stuff! (meaning the articles on how same sex marriage ain't all that weird, writing assignments with topics as :"Imagine if homosexuality was the norm." and scholarly definitions of n**ger, dyke, bitch, pagan, jap, spick etc. and how we can 'defuse' those words by owning them.) WTF? I don't even use those words as an adult!! Well, ok...I'll cop to 'pagan' but that's it! Those words have been on my shitlist for most my adult life, because I find them distasteful. I wasn't raised that way. (as you noticed-I can't even completely spell out that one word, that's how much it sickens me.)

So that's it; now if you'll excuse me- I'm gonna do "society" a favor and go hang myself, because with being an intolerant un-American, racist, homophobe, religious fanatic bigot, I'm also a censorer, now, too. With serious self esteem issues.

Why Johnny-I mean-Janey-Oops, uh excuse me- Why "They" Can't Write

Probably because they are so constrained by P/C goobledeegook like these lesson plans.
Section One, the short activies is amusing. To delve deeper requires a PDF reader.
Oh, but it's so worth it!
Unless you have a short fuse...in which case -don't.

Of Cell Phones and Such...

My pal Kathy is just a dab annoyed.
I love reading her when she's like this.
Nice little link to a cell phone contract loophole too, if you're having some problems in that area.


(That reminds me...I think I need to buy some more time for my phone!)

Bet My Brother in Law is Packing for Vegas as We Speak...

He shares The Rottweiler's love for MASSIVE PYROTECHNICS.

Since he also runs our local fireworks stand every summer, he can deduct the expenses as a 'business trip'.

Dang! Hope he takes pictures!

I Have to Agree with Arnold...

Dude! Just what the hell are you?!
And I'm alittle confused by your sign. Is that suppose to be an 'X'?
What the hell is a BUXH? And why do you think they shouldn't be allowed? Or are you saying that you don't have any BUXH and you'd like it to be noted.
Maybe get some sort of assistance so that you can get some BUXH? Is BUXH some sort of hair product? Maybe that's why your locks are so odd...no BUXH? I'd gladly get you some if I knew what it was or where to get it.
C'mon, throw us a bone here!



Tip: the lovely Michelle Malkin

Another Bumpy Night Ahead, (and it was 25 years ago, today...)

Just a quickie before I close for the nite, we got some more whopper storms heading our way and I might have to batten down the hatches.

The evening news jogged my memory this evening. 25 years ago that nutjob Hinkley took a potshot at Ronnie the Popular. A wound that could have killed a lesser man at his age.
That's one of those frozen in time moments, like the Kennedy assasinations, most folks recall where the were when they heard Reagan had been shot.

I was just a pup, barely in my 20's, living with a bunch of other college kids in an older 3 bedroom house out in California that we all split the rent on.
I was working the late shift at a photo lab that contracted with Target and Walmart.It was our job to get these rolls of film developed, printed and shipped back to the right stores overnight.It was a good gig, one of the best jobs I ever had, really. I'd get home at dawn, stay up for a bit and then stick in the earplugs, pull the blinds in my room and try to get some sleep before I had to go back in at 9pm.
That day I was snoozing away, must have been about 2 or 3 in the afternoon when my boyfriend showed up began banging on the bedroom window, hollaring that the President had been shot.
Always being off by a day or so because of my shift, I thought he was April Foolin' me, hollar back at him to get lost and leemealone!
He kept insisting to be let in and no, he wasn't joking...turn on the TV!
I did and the both of us just stood there in stunned silence. WTF did they do that?
All kinds of speculation was going on. When we finally heard that he had done it for a chick...damn, I recall being even more pissed!
And of course, we all know that that day also caused Jim Brady to be seriously wounded, setting in motion what would become the Brady Bill.

So....where were you on that day?

Cookie's Bad Day

Cookie over at the Gab&Grub had a hell of a Wednesday. And something any hillbilly can probably relate to.
This is just too funny not to pass on.
Better you than me, Cookie.

Well, That Settles It!

I am 42% White Trash.

The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.

Take the
White Trash Test
@ FualiDotCom

(Thanks to Patrick at Born Again Redneck)

Dead Bird Walking

The above felon has commited an heinous crime against the citizens of the Poultry Republic. To wit: at on or about 2:45 pm CST,on March 29th, 2006 said prisoner did menace and willfully strike out with malice and with intent to harm the Dowager Vicountess, loyal protector of the Republic and Guardian of the Magic Grain Bucket.
Such crimes against our noble lady will not be tolerated. The prisoner is hereby sentenced to death, by means of public execution at a time to be set by this court in the not so distant future. (Saturday sounds good!) There will be no appeals on the prisoner's behalf.
Biscuits and gravy to be served shortly afterwards.

This Just Makes Me Ill

Well, it's finally happened.
After all these years of living here just south of the bellybutton of America, the 3rd notch on the Bible Belt, smack dab on the rockingchair of God's front porch I never thought I'd see'd happen.

Now I'm not some innocent adrift; I realize the educational system everywhere is under attack, been so for decades. Hell, I can clearly recall the socialist claptrap they tried to ram into our lil' ol' naive noggins as a child in Kalipornia. But here it had always been different. This was the land that time forgot. Our schools here were, well, nice. I never once had any doubts or reservations about sending my tykes off to school. I liked the teachers and the staff.
It seemed that they resisted the onslaught. Heck, this past Christmas the school's music program even had genuine Christmas songs in it. The entire 3rd grade sang 'Silent Night'...out loud...in public...with all the original English translation verses that had mention of a virgin and a Holy Child, etc.
My kids as well as anyone elses can wear T-shirts from church summer camps to school without a problem.
Writing assignments where a kid might mention going to church or praying were never censored, but put up on the bulletin board alongside others. God and your beliefs was a non-issue here. Just taken for granted.
In short, the school was a reflection of the community it served. Mom, God, the Flag and Apple Pie.
It was Mayberry. It was good.

But I also know that like many other schools, they're strapped for cash. So sometimes they have to bend over and grab the ankles and go for the grant dough where ever they can. For the most part they have made some wise choices-I was particularly impressed a couple years back when some skilled staff member applied for and got a humungo grant that allowed them to put brand spankin' new computers, compliments of Gateway, in just about all of the lower grades at a ratio of 1 computer to 2 students. I can recall seeing that long hallway lined on either side with stacks of those black n white "cow" boxes of computer systems awaiting to be set up-it made me feel proud that even in some nowhere, dirt poor, backwater Hicksville our kids would be getting the skills they'd need for the real 21st century world 'out there'.
Thanks to that, my younguns are even more hip to certain computer programs than I am ("Whatdaya mean we don't have Excel on our computer, Mom?!...oh, I'll just finish this at school! Sheeesh.")

But what I saw yesterday has really ticked me off. The prostitution for grant cash has finally gone too far.

What I saw were posters...nicely framed in black metal frames and mounted all along the hallway. Kinda swanky for our school- if any posters go up they're just slapped up there with some of the sticky gooball stuff or tape. And usually they're from Scholastic Books or homemade jobbers for some upcoming school event. These were slick, these were arty. And all of them were promoting "tolerance".
Oh crap. We all know what that means.
In the corner of each one was a website addy, www.teachingtolerance.org, so naturally, as soon as I got home I looked it up...I kinda already knew what I'd find.
It's the brainchild of The Southern Poverty Law Center. Oh, double crap! I know these yahoos.
One of the biggest libbie hate groups out there. And I mean 'hate group' as in the ACLU can be considered a hate group...they hate anything that's good n right about America. "Protecting the rights of minorities" is just a front for this bunch.
OK, so what the ragin' blue screaming hell is my school doing hopping in the sack with this crowd? Enquiring minds want to know! Do they even know what they have done? Do they care? I'm gonna have to find out. But in doing so I risk being considered a bigot, a racist or any other ugly thing because that's how it works...afterall, who but only a bigot would be AGAINST 'tolerance', eh? That's where they got you-damned if ya do, damned if ya don't. Oh, this sucks on so many levels it ain't even funny. It just makes me sick that my friends n neighbors on the school board greenlighted this and I bet they didn't even know who they were dealing with.
This is the straw that breaks this camel's back, I'm afraid.

That church academy up the road in the next town is starting to look mighty appealing...

Adding to the Must See List

The Titanic Museum in Branson is having their big grand opening next week. (Or 'Launch' as they say on the website)
I saw a bit about it on the local news this morning. Looks like a purty neat-o deal.
I'm hoping that this spring/summer we can get over there and check it out.
We have Yakov's show and the Jim Stafford gig on the list, too.
Of course, if the cost of fuel keeps creeping up, even a local 'vacation' could be out of the question.

Is Paris Burning? (does anyone care?)

Are they still rioting over in Frogville?
In my usual ugly, ig'nert American way I'm hard pressed to garner any sympathy for their cause. There's too much of a gap in the mindset. Eurosocialists vs. average Joe North American. I admit I don't know all the little details other than what the MSM is saying, but it's a curious cause to get my noggin around. Since when are you "entitled" to keep a job? Where I came from, you either did a job well or you got canned--period, regardless of age. Of course I was one of those foolish Americans who actually took jobs that I've been told we're not suppose to want to do. But I didn't know that at the time. Stupid me!

Maybe I'm oversimplifying it, but has it ever occured to these angry 'youts' across the Pond that if they strived to be an asset to their employers, the threat of being fired wouldn't be so great? For the most part, it's quite simple: Show up on time, do your assigned tasks in a reasonable manner and as best you can, play nice with the other employees, don't whine about getting time off, (at least not right away) and just put in a little effort other than being a warm blob of molecules filling a space.

It seems that these punks are indeed putting forth a great effort to make their complaint known, maybe if they'd channel that angst into striving to better themselves in the workplace and make themselves valuable to their employers they wouldn't need to run amok in the streets.
But that's just me and my ig'nert, uninformed opinion. Socialism is a fuggered up concept anyway that saps the ambition out of a human...as we are clearly seeing there in France.

Green Eggs!! (...no ham)

Have some little Aracuna hens who are just starting to lay eggs this season. It's always a guessing game as to what color their eggs will be when they first start.
These guys are also marketed as the Easter Egg chicken because of the weird coloration of the shells. It can be just a faint pink/tan color, almost like regular brown eggs, almost a sky blue, a pale teal or a near avocado green. In the past I have had ones who gave the pinky color and sky blue...never green. Always wanted the green, just cuz it's weird and cool, in my mind.

This afternoon I heard some ruckus in the henhouse-the sound of a hen cackling that "I just laid an egg!" noise. Since I had noticed one of the virgin Aracunas marching in there earlier and scoping out a nesting box I had to go and see what color she popped out. It just had to be her in there throwing such a fit.

Huzzah! At long last...a tiny but decidedly quite green egg! I appreciate small joys like this. This has just made my day! So naturally I had to take a pic and show off.
I set a couple of "regular" eggs alongside from my other hens as comparison.

She will continue to lay green eggs for life. To my knowledge, the shell color is predetermined in the genes and no addition or monkeying with diet will change it.
I've got at least 2 more Aracunas who haven't begun to lay eggs yet...dare I hope for a green trifecta?

Did You Say "God-fish"?

( artists interpretation of the fish )

The Lovely Michelle Malkin has breaking news of magical fish creating quite a stir in muslim circles over in the U.K.

You may remember that just about 2 months ago we had the story about some Egyptian farmer who said his calf had Allah's name squiggled through the calves markings.
Just out of fairness, if this had been another Jesus in a tortilla story, we would have posted it too. We enjoy goofy stuff like this.

"All Your Tithes Are Belong To Us"

John at Wuzzadem has been making up for lost time from his mysterious sabbatical lately by churning out more of the usual doubleplus funny good material.
Ever wonder what church signs do when we ain't looking?

Shoes Required

Grouchy Old Cripple posted this newspaper snippet.
This blurb could have come from anyone in the WTR.
Sad thing is-I totally can relate to what the gal is saying.

I certainly hope Grouchy Old Cripple doesn't mind that I linked this.
His blog is, well, rather grouchy.
And since, culturally anyway, grouchy old cripples are in the same category as heavily armed recluses-I don't wanna be ticking anyone off!

Favorite Scene in "24"

Well, gosh darnit, there were so many tonight.
The teaser from last week with Audrey the Anorexic didn't pan out-but we kinda knew that would happen. Drats!
Then we got to see Jack get tazered. The powers that be at CTU knew he needed a nap and have his cell phone recharged.
The natural gas station blowing up was cool which of course led to this weeks cliffhanger: Did Jack survive? Duh.

Naw, strangely enough, my favorite tonite was the look Chloe gave new the replacement chick after she had made the "...see how he rubbed my shoulder?" comment.
It was as if she was thinking "Jeez, girl, you're more whacked than I am!" It was a priceless glare that only Chloe can pull off.
Chloe's verbal smack down of the HS wonk was a close second.

The smoochy-woochy all is forgiven sobby scene with Jack' n' the Anorexic made me just a bit ill.
As does the mental image of her and Walt doing some major, uh, debriefing, off the clock, at some no tell motel. A tawdry little fact revealed tonight.
Christ, that'll give me nightmares for sure...

Couldn't Help Myself

FEAR ME, You Loathsome Spawn!

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Yea, verily: Who is that, prowling along the candy store! It is White Trash Republican, hands clutching gilded boxing gloves! And with a cruel howl, her voice cometh: "I'm going to bruise you so hard, your blood will flow counter-clockwise!"

Find out! Enter username: Are you a girl, or a guy ?

created by beatings : powered by monkeys

The NAIS page Update

Just one more thing and I won't post any more about this-today, anyway.
This Friday the Mo. State Senate passed a resolution about NAIS.
Yahooo!!
I've posted it on my NAIS page. Just click the logo below the NoNAIS.org icon.
The "Bad for Small Farms..." etc. thingy.

Bird's the Word

The TTLB schizophrenia continues.
I'm now a Bird.
Oh to have wings, that I may fly!

Heh, my luck, I'll just crash into someones picture window.

...but I'm Not a Farmer.

So this big scarey bugaboo of regulations won't affect ME!
Think again.

Do you own a horse? Or have one, but board it elsewhere? Does your kid have a pet bunny? Do you eat meat? Are you a vegetarian? Or maybe you and the wife like to browse through the local Farmer's Markets on a Saturday afternoon and buy a peck of them tasty 'homegrown ta'maters'...
Heck, for that matter, do you eat food, period?

Kiss it all Goodbye, buckos, if this crap bulldozes it's way through.
Gitcha some learning, here.

Y'know, the girl in me would like to give these wonks the benefit of doubt--that this is just a 'trial balloon' just to see just how far they can go without the civilians putting up a stink. That they wouldn't actually try to enact this in it's full gawdawful glory...but I don't wanna take that chance. Do YOU?

I know, I know...there's alot of bad craziness going on in the world that diverts our attention and gets us raging mad and shifts our focus elsewhere for a time. Believe me, I know. I can't keep up, myself. BUT it seems to me, based on past experience and human nature, it's times like this when crappola like NAIS is trotted out, hoping to fly under the radar. It's the oldest trick in the book.
Our guys are 'over there' trying to rid a country of it's Tolitarian visages,but meanwhile...back at the Ranch, the very freedoms that they embody are being stripped.

McWeasels

Just another reason to add to my "Screw You and Your Creepy Clown" list.
Yes, it's more about the NAIS.
Compliments of the blog at NoNAIS.org.
Now lest some be confused thinking that it's just a bunch of ol' PETA treehuggin' anti-corporation hippie types screaming about this, may I include this for some clarification? This is from the article:

"NAIS should be 100% voluntary and market driven. Voluntary market driven Animal ID is proper capitalism and good. Making NAIS 100% voluntary eliminates virtually all of the objections to the program. If you don’t want to participate, don’t. Voluntary means there are no fees, no fines, no warrant-less searches, no mandatory tracking and reporting, no unnecessary paperwork, no Constitutional violations, no conflicts with religion, no fascist, heavy handed, Big Brother, Nanny State, totalitarian Bureaucratic Slavery (BS)."

Not exactly lefty speak, kids. These guys are on our side. It's about our rights. Not farmer's rights, not the critters rights (do they have them anyway?) not ruralists rights...OUR RIGHTS as in AMERICAN CITIZENS. If they can do this to a small minority and get away with it...You'll be next-somehow, someway. Just ask the guy who owns firearms. There's a world of difference between how it was say, 20 years ago and now when it comes to owning firearms. It's a paperwork nightmare and has the crime rate gone down? I know...stupid question. You get the point.
Anyway, if you are of a rural sort or even if you're not, please wander over there and see what these folks are up to. Heck, buy a bumper sticker or something. This can't happen here.

A Sunday Funny

Compliments of a friend of mine...a Baptist minister.


A cowgirl, who is visiting Texas from Arkansas, walks into a bar and
orders three mugs of Bud. She sits in the back of the room, drinking
a sip out of each one in turn. When she finishes them, she comes back
to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender approaches and tells the cowgirl, "You know, a mug
goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a
time."

The cowgirl replies, "Well, you see, I have two sisters. One is in
Australia, the other is in Dublin. When we all left our home in
Arkansas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when
we drank together. So I'm drinking one beer for each of my sisters and
one for myself."

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The cowgirl becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.
She orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.

One day, she comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars
take notice and fall silent. When she comes back to the bar for the
second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your
grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss."

The cowgirl looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in
her eyes and she laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," she explains,
"It's just that my husband and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to
quit drinking." "Hasn't affected my sisters though."

A Lovely Sunday

It's another lazy Sunday here in the Republic, but unlike last Sunday which was dreary, dark and cold this Sunday it's finally acting like Spring. The outdoors is calling to me to get some outside chores tended to. And I'm actually in the mood to do so, after I polish off this nice fat salad and plink some ramblings down.

The unofficial countdown to the dogwood blooms has started. In about a week these hills here will be awashed with creamy white blooms. The woods ringing my one pasture will be a solid wall of white. Already the wild peaches and apple trees are blooming. Daffodils and those of their ilk are popping up everywhere. Ah! The local birds have even changed their tunes, shifting into mating mode. As I drive by cow pastures, I see fairly brand new calves wobbling about. And my hens have begun to lay. I love spring in the Ozarks...too bad it never lasts. Come late April or so the humidity will set in, the temperatures will creep up and by June it'll miserable. But it is wonderful while it's here. Makes a body happy.

Patrick at Born Again Redneck has a good rant about the 2nd Amendment and some musings about spring over on his side of the coast. I have to agree; hearing my neighbors sight in their rifles or just doing some target practice gives me a strange reassurance that all is well in the world. Something that liberal can never fathom. As the ol' Harley slogan goes: "If I have to explain-then you'll never understand." His post brought back memories of when me and hubby would pull out 'the fun stuff' (the Mossberg, the over n under and other misc. weapons of mass destruction) whenever our big city pals would visit. They would leave from that impromptu demostration of what we do for amusement and our own security either totally enamored and high from the empowerment that blasting such a thing gives you and a changed mind or it just reaffirmed everything they thought about guns, namely that they were EEEeeeeeeeeee-vil and such common folk such as ourselves shouldn't be allowed to have such dangerous things, best leave those to the "professionals", like law enforcement and the military. Oh well, can't win 'em all.
But we had fun poking at them!

Gayle on her blog, is wrestling with a conflict about her church and their priest, who feels compelled to use the pulpit as his political soap box. I can't imagine how she feels. I feel so bad for her and her congregation. We're blessed by having just plain old conservative preachers here, being in the country and all. The sort of thing that Gayle is outraged about would flip the lids of most folks here. You're in our prayers, girlie. God knows your heart and mind, and that's what matters. But to have your flock led by a shepherd who lunches with the wolves is troubling. You'll be hard press to bite your tongue, but if push comes to shove, God will give you the wisdom to say the right thing.
Her post has caused me to wonder just how many Democrats (if any) attend our little church.
Statistically, there has to be a few. But if there are, they keep their thoughts to themselves and never try to mix politics with religion.

And speaking of those two things...Lem, the purveyor and lord over the Hillbilly Ecosystem and Hillbilly White Trash has a few choice words about idiots who try to do just that! In reference to the latest rescue of those "peace activists". Suggestions as to these ingrates fate will be much appreciated, I'm sure.

Wow, my salad is finished, my post is done, all wrapped up neat n tidy and now the yard is calling me!
Enjoy your Sunday, whereever you are. We will be!

An Article from The Ozark County Times

Every now and then this gal, Janet, writes historical articles for our local weekly rag.
I always enjoy these. This week she has written about a community that was once a good rock throw from where I'm at. Thought it was purty innerestin' so I'm passing it along, iffin you're into that sorta thing.
One part that caught my attention was this :
"After attending eight grades at Caney, the next educational step was high school in Gainesville. When Adron started to high school, there was no transportation. "I had to board near town with a great-aunt in order to go my first year," he says. "After that, a man at Brixey, Ocie Scott, bought a pickup with a 'cage' on back and hauled us to school. Our folks paid him $5 a month to ride his 'bus.'"

Hey, I knew Ocie! He was a right nice old feller. Sweet man. ('course, I can't say much for his ol' lady-except maybe 'battle-axe') I had no idea he had done such a thing. 5 bucks a pop, per month translates into some purty good dough for back then. He could have been pulling in around 50 dollars or more monthly.
Read it here.

We Are Devo

I'm de-evolving...
I've been kicked down to a fish in the TTLB ecosys.
Dang! And I was just getting the hang of feet and crawling.

Living La Vida Blanco Basura

Whilst toodling about the net looking for images for another project I came across the pic of this book. I liked the look and layout. ( being a graphic artist in a long ago previous existence ) and the title just made me howl. Sheer genuis there. So off I went on another tangent to find out more, found this review :

"Angry white male or astute social critic? Whichever, Goad (he's not using a pseudonym, is he?) bellows a primal scream in defense of white working-class wage serfs. There is not a meek, mealy-mouthed word in this tract, so readers had better strap themselves in if they recoil from cussing, epithets for every blankety-blank group under the sun, or chapter titles such as "Several Compelling Arguments for the Enslavement of All White Liberals." This tract is so hyperbolic, so vitriolic, so viciously funny, so unrestrained, that its sheer outlandishness might indicate that Goad is just venting a sustained satire. But his harangue is in earnest, a high-decibel diatribe agin' big gummint, high taxes, big business, and the media reiteration of (white) racism as the metaexplainer of what's wrong with America. Moreover, Goad's book will not go quietly, as it is a politically unclassifiable polemic sure to humor, or offend, or enrage library patrons, in equal measure."

Oh! So I'm thinkin' this is a must read! But upon trying to find out more about this guy and the book I'm just a little troubled. I went to his site, and although I'm not a total prude when it comes to language, (I do read Misha, afterall.) this stuff was just alittle too, uh...uh...okay, nasty! Not my cup of tea-but I could see where it might have some appeal to some, as long as you don't have boobs, but I do, so some of his potty talk made me uncomfortable, which was probably the point anyway.
So I wiki his name and here's what I came up with.
One very telling fact from the article:

Goad is currently off parole and single.

NAIS page is now up...

Read the whole nasty disgusting thing here.
It's purty durn long, so plan accordingly.

A very special THANX and a big, wet, sloppy White Trash kiss goes to Patrick at Born Again Redneck for helping me out on this and pointing out a rather obvious solution to posting this epic.

...And Speaking of Goals

I see that I've once again skipped 3 whole stages of evolution inTTLB ecosystem!
I'm now a reptile. (quite fitting since my family nickname as a child was Lizzygator.)

"I would like to thank everyone in the Academy, my mom, my dad, my kids...Mommy loves you! ...my chiropractor, my poolboy Xavier..."

Oops, sorry, wrong speech.

And in related biz, that ridiculously high 59% Evil rating by the mystic Gematriculator has been smacked down to previous levels. Must have been the cute post about the kids on the radio that pulled my butt out the fire.

Lofty Ambitions

On a local radio station out here they sometimes have these spots highlighting our schools, particularly the elementarys. These will feature select students of certain grades reading, in their own words, whatever the topic is. It's mainly to showcase what they're currently learning and besides, the kids get a kick out of hearing themselves on the radio. It's always cute and unintentionally funny.

Most of the kids you can tell are uncomfortable about being recorded and some take great pains to carefully, slowly read aloud what they wrote-so much so that they will even enunciate the '-ing' endings on words, something that is, for the most part, a physical impossibilty for most of us in this region. You hear shy hesistation, minor verbal flubs, but it's ok, cuz they're just kids.

Today the topic was "Setting Goals"...by Miz Jackson's 4th grade class. One little boy obviously didn't get the subject : "I think setting goals means to read a lot of books!"
(well, that's a start, Jimmy.)

Then there was this lil' darling: " To me, setting goals means to always do your best in whatever you do."
( no, honey, I think that's part of the Girl Scout pledge.)

Anyway, about 8 or so kids spoke, some you could tell had a pretty good grip on the topic.

They saved the best for last. It was another little girl:
" Setting goals means to plan for what you'll be when you get older. Like a teacher, a policeman or (pause)... a Walmart cashier. Thank You."

A Shout to All Hillbillies, Rednecks, Slack Jaws, etc

If you're bloggin' in the South, on the Mason-Dixson Line or just proudly consider yourself a red blooded 'Murican hillbilly, regardless of current geographic location, then give Lem a hollar over at Hillbilly White Trash...now.
He is in the process of creating a vast gun-totin','baca chawin' 'shine swiggin' Empire just for us like minded hicks: "The Hillbilly Ecosystem"
Git some learnin' about this here new blogroll right c'here.
Current ownership or rental of a mobile home not required, but always a plus!

N.A.I.S

My pal Kathy, (who does her own style of rural ramblings here.) has sent me a nice chunk of info about the National Animal Identification System and how it would affect the small timers such as ourselves. I. Don't. Like. This. At. All.

It's rather long and I'm hesistant to post it here on the main page because of that.
I would really like to be able to give it it's own page with a link on the main page here. I know it can be done, I've seen other Blogger blogs that do that, but I. R. Dumm on just how to do that and Blogger Help isn't in this case. So, if anyone who uses Blogger and has the secret to this, couldja please help a sistah out here?
Much 'preciated!

Here's a few blurbs from the email, just so's you can understand my concern:

Every person who owns even one horse, cow, pig, chicken, sheep, or virtually any livestock animal, will be forced to register his or her home, including owner's name, address and telephone number, and then be keyed to global positioning system (GPS) coordinates for satellite monitoring in a giant federal database under a 7-digit "premises ID number."

And then there's this cute little fun fact:

Third parties, such as veterinarians, will be required to report "sightings" of animals. In other words, if you call a vet to your property to treat your horse, cow or any other animal, and the vet finds any animal without the mandatory 15-digit computer-readable ID, the vet may be required to report you. If you do not comply, the USDA will exercise "enforcement" against you. The USDA has not yet specified the nature of "enforcement," but presumably it will include imposing fines and/or seizing your animals. The plan permits no exceptions-under the USDA plan, you will be forced to register and report even if you raise animals only for your own food or keep horses for draft or for transportation


This is not a hokey-chicken little-disproved-by-Snopes type email. This is legit! The USDA is fine tuning this and is in the first stages of rolling this out. This is a major BIG DEAL. And I'm mad now, Eddie!

A Totally Useless Fact

Every morning the local AM news show has a little trivia question, wedged in during the weather. For the most part I can get the right answer everytime. (I have a noggin crammed full of stupid useless facts-folks hate to play Trivial Pursuit with me. Unless it's the Sports Edition, then they have the upper hand. In which case, I suggest Scrabble instead.)
Anywho, the question yesterday morning had me stumped:
"Name the only poisonous bird on the planet."

Huh! Frogs, snakes, certain fish I knew carried toxins as a defense...but birds?!
I couldn't wait to learn the answer.
After the commercial break we did.
Answer: The Hooded Pitohui
( The last part of the name would sound very similar to the noise one makes spitting out watermelon seeds.)
Naturally, I had to look this up. A pretty bird, from New Guinea. It's diet consists of toxic beetles, and therefore the toxins are exuded through the skin and feathers of the bird! Thus rendering it poisonous to anything that might attempt to eat it or in the case of humans, capture or handle it.
Huh, again!
Now regardless of your stance on creation vs. evolution-either way- ya gotta admit, that's a purty neat trick!

(Oh, and the trivia question today? "What is a group of kangaroos called?"
Answer: A Mob...duh!)

Say It Loud, Say It Proud!

As a courtesy to those who may not know just exactly what white trash is or needs a more precise definition of hillbilly, we would like to offer this brief tutorial video.
Click this, you'll be thanking me later.

This will tell you everything you need to know.

And for us who live amongst them, y'all git big kick outta it. Ya might even see someone ya know or are kin to.

Apologies

Keeping with the Blogger Blows theme, some apologies are in order and an explanation.

When I first started this compendium of self centered ramblings, I had word verfication turned on. That was the only safeguard I set on the 'dashboard'. That worked ok. But lately there has been problems and in the course of trying to rectify those I stumbled upon yet ANOTHER quirk.
I've set the post moderation now and much to my shock and great embaressment I've now found comments...some dating all the way back to last year!!! This is very curious, because I have never fiddled with the setting that controls that. And why would it hold some comments hostage and yet let others get posted? Since I had never entered my settings for that feature, these posts had nowhere to go, I never got any email duplicates of them. They languished in the Blogger gulag.
But now they are free!
My much red faced apologies to Lem, AGT, Kathy and any other person kind enough to give me a read and to comment.
I hope this fixes any weirdness once and for all!

And I'm still up for suggestions for relocating this blog. Free always comes with a price, as we have learned, so I'd be open to even some low cost alternatives to Boogery Blogger Bloos.

Knaves & Fools??

Stolen Thunder has some thoughts about the latest tweekiness of Blogger.
I'm seriously considering new digs, as well.

(Nothing too lavish, a nice doublewide with one of them there squirty jet bathtubs in the corner would be alright.)

The Today Show

Anyone catch the first segment of the Today Show this morning?
(Cueball Carville vs. Laura Ingraham?)
NBC owes me a new TV.

My foot hurts.

Recap here of the blantant stupid rudeness.

I'm Screwed

Fresh off the press:

Word Verification

Since some have mentioned problems with leaving comments, I've turned off the word verification to see if that might help.
The house is unlocked.
You're now free to move about the cabin. Don't trash the joint, ok?
And don't drink all my beer.

(I am so gonna get spammed up the yin yang now, I bet.)

Addendum: I'm gonna try the post moderation feature to weed out subsequent and inevitable spam. So any comments won't show up immediately. This will no doubt help to screw up things even more here. But we'll give it a try.

Favorite Bit in "24"

Just for the sake of brevity and because I don't have a dvd or a Tivo gizmo in my house, I'm just going to post my favorite scene from tonites "24".
(It's from the previews, actually, so maybe it shouldn't count-ah heck, who cares?)

The favorite tonite is: Jack just inches from Audrey's face, his hand tightly squeezing her frail, skinny little throat and the scared little bunny sounds emanating from her.
Hoo boy!
Can't wait to see next week!

A Dinghy in the Fleet

Since the Armada has set sail I have been popping around visiting the shipmates on the blogroll, checking the cut of their jibs. Sometimes I say Hey, most times I'm just so humbled by the quality of the writings that I just row away, without a word.
There's some heavies out there that make me ashamed to be even piddling around with this stuff.

Sig 94 comes readily to mind, he just started and his rantings are beautiful. I use the word rantings in a positive sense, here, folks. He's an asset to the fleet.
Pure Gum Spirits is an artist, literally. He posts pics of his work. Wow.
Beth of The Blue Star Chronicles and subject of the recent idiocy of Blogger that was all over the blogs last week was kind enough to pay lil' ol' me a visit...I must return the favor. Maybe I'll bring her a cake!
Misha over at The Rotweiller? Oh Lord...the guy's pure genius with obscenity as a verbal artform. Enough so that one truly never ever wants to be on the receiving end of his ire.
Even my fellow inhabitant of the Hillbilly Ecosystem, HillbillyWhite Trash cranks out a good one now and then.

These are just the tip of the iceberg. There's just so much brainpower out there. And not just with that blogroll, it's everywhere.
And it all makes me feel stupid. I just barely graduated from high school almost 30 years ago.
I read some of these blogs and think 'Damn! I shoulda been paying more attention!'
The well thought out opinion and carefully crafted sentence is a thing of beauty to me. A rational argument presented in print is like porn to me. I love to read it, can't get enough. I don't know how they do it.
Yeah I do...they be edjucated. Me? The grey matter is going stale. Frittered away pursuing other things, other thoughts, other interests for all these years. Having kids late in life don't help. That'll cook what brainpower you have quick. I don't have the analytical mind for politics, at least enough so to ferret out the facts and present my opinion in an intelligent way. I just know what's right and what's wrong. And even then I can't tell you why. But oh, how I do enjoy and admire those that can and do!

I started doing this just as vent, nearly 2 years ago. Politics wasn't to be the focus of this c'here place. I actually didn't have a point. Just wanted to ramble about life in the hills, local crap, any funny family stuff, some national events and how it would or could effect our lives here in the land that time forgot. Just stuff. Also, if anybody thought it was slightly amusing, it was a big plus. I tend to attempt to treat things in a flippant matter. Even if it's something I'm dead serious about. (some sort of character flaw any garden variety shrink could readily explain, I'm sure. Dangit, there I go again!) Yes, I'm an aging former class clown. Which might explain just WHY I can't write worth a crap most times-I was too busy cracking jokes about 'conjugating verbs'.

Friends around here encourage me and say I'm smart. But, considering just exactly where I live, the compliment is relative. As the saying goes: In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is King. We ain't skewing any IQ stats around here, so to say I'm smart is probably the same as average anywhere else in this country. About the only thing I do know about my smarts is that they are a 'different' kind. 20 years out here has gave me a gob of arcane survival skills, pioneer knowledge, if you will, beyond just knowing how to handle a firearm. I can take some comfort in the fact that IF the shit ever hit the fan I just might be able to eke out a life for a wee bit longer than my big city cousins.

Well, that's about all I wanted to blubber about. Just feeling a little stupid in the presence of smart folk. That happens to me alot. I just don't usually write about it. If you've even got this far, you truly have too much time on your hands. Ok, enough wallowing in all this 'I'm not worthy' self pity.
I will say this- I'm inspired to attempt to get better at this. I don't aspire to be among the big dogs, I just don't want to be an embaressement to them as I trot alongside. Heck, one day I might actually be able to tell you what a conjugated verb is!

Eureka!

Just as a lark I thought I'd see if Blogger has pulled itself out of it's stupor bright n early this morning and it has! The pic uploader is working...finally!
This here's the Branson Belle moored at it's dock.
This was from our trip Saturday.




A pic from the topside deck, the younguns and a little pal. Those stacks are insanely tall and just there for effect, I don't think they actually serve a purpose, since this ship goes by diesel. It's a steamboat in name only.













One of mine, with Irving the talking dog at the post-show meet n greet in the lobby. Irving is less than thrilled.

Savage Chickens

Stumbled upon this.
Guy's name is Savage. He draws cartoons...of chickens.
What I saw were'nt pee your drawers funny, but mildly funny.
But what the heck, I like chickens and I like the way he draws 'em.
(I'd post one of his cartoons, but Blogger IS STILL drinkin' bong water!)

Lazy Sunday

Now that I'm coming to from my traditional Sunday afternoon nap, made all that much easier because it's one of those murky overcast days that makes you uncertain about just what time it is and makes you sleepy all day anyway, I've been lollygagging about the web looking up sites that I've meant to look at all week when 'I got around to it'.
One was "Cosmeo". Their ads have been in heavy rotation lately. Happy, bright, well co-ordinated and ethnically diverse youngsters frollicking through their school, all singing a version of "Don't Stop (Thinking About Tomarrow)"-I never cared for that tune when Fleetwood Mac did it and when the Dems adopted it as a theme song that really nailed it shut for me, but I digress. Took me a few times to actually figure out just what the heck they were hawking. It's a "homework help" site under the auspices of the Discovery channel. Now I dig that channel. Watch it alot-except during Shark Week-sorry, ain't the least interested in sharks. It's a subscription service, but their loud and happy ads say you can sign up for a month free. OK, I'll bite. I'll go look. I'll read up on it. Might be of some value...might.

Maybe I just caught 'em on a bad day, maybe my dial-up just can't cope with the newer, hi techy sites, but honest to God, this thing loaded up slower than a snail on 'Luudes! Took a good 5 minutes before I saw anything that might actually be something. Jeez, dare I click the 'about us' button? That'll take forever I fear. I click and go make a pot of coffee.
Came back just as the new page was finishing up, here's what it said:
"Why Cosmeo? Cosmeo can:


* Facilitate learning with a constantly updated video library, including more than 30,000 video clips across all age and grade levels

* Match videos to your state's curriculum standards

* Make learning fun with a wide variety of interactive games, and homework help tools

* Help your student succeed with 15,000+ images and a library of teacher-selected websites for students to use for school projects and presentations

* Make your student's work stand out with an online encyclopedia of 27,000 full-text articles

* Give you the ability to monitor usage and learn alongside your students"

30,000 video clips, eh? Nope, pass. I found it slightly amusing that no periods were used in the pitch.
If this site is relying on vid clips to convey most of the information and if just getting the first 2 pages to come up were any indication, I honestly don't need to be wasting my money OR my kids' time with this crap.Vids take forever to download in my world. Besides, we have 2 full sets of encyclopedias right here and we could have accessed 7 different topics in the time it took just to find out what the frig this site was about. This site is too Buck Rogers for us. We will always be doomed to the dial-up gulag. Here in the boonies it's the only viable option, for at least the next 6 years.
So, no go Cosmeo. My kids are already smarter than me, anyhow.

Dang! I was hopin' that Blogger would have it's act together, so I could post some pics from our adventures yesterday. It's still smokin' crack. Still stupid as the day is long. Oh well, someday perhaps...I've fiddle farted around with it too long now. I got younguns to feed, it's dinnertime!

Big Day for Us

Today was the Girl Scout Spring Fling Day in Branson.
A type of post-cookie sale celebration they do every year. A good excuse for me and the younguns to get out for a good time, since their way was pre-paid and parents got discount tickets.
This year's venue was the Branson Belle.
An obscenely huge steel and iron "steamboat" replica, that disguises the fact that all it is is a huge floating dinner theater. Of course, I took pictures, but Blogger is being dumb as a stump right now and refuses to complete the upload process for pics.
Anyway, the kids had a blast. Mom was amused. The joint was jam packed with little Girl Scouts and their exhausted looking troop leaders and parent chaperones.

We saw this guy and Irving, his talking dog.
He also had a basset in the act, named Elvis.
(btw, creepy headshot on your site, dude!-I mean the human, not the dog.)

The food was awful, as they can be in those places, but the kids didn't care, it was all the pink lemonade you could drink! (meaning mucho pit stops on the way home.)
But that aside, it was fun. We enjoyed the show but the main act (the talking dog) didn't run as long as I expected. It seemed rushed. Like a pared down afternoon version of the full act, which it probably was. But just how the guy got the dogs to talk kept the girls speculating all the way home. Mom had it figured out immediately, the actual mechanics of it are open to debate, however. But I didn't tell them that. Let their imaginations run wild.
My youngest was totally enthralled by the dancers. I see a college gig as a Branson stock dancer in her future.

For some reason we didn't actually cruise, but rather stayed moored to the dock. A major disapointment for all of us. We were told later that it was due to weather conditions on the lake.
It was overcast and breezy with only the slightest threat of rain, so I really can't say if that was the real reason or not.

"I Want My CNTV!!"

Wow.
This cat's been reading my mind.
Edward Daley on the perfect news network.

(pack a snack, it's a long one.)

This Just Ain't Right-Period!

I'm hoping this idea never sees the light of day. This is from the latest issue of our local rag.
I know it was contrived by "well meaning" government types, who just want to protect the food supply. (snicker) But it raises some very serious constitutional issues. I wished I could have attended this meeting.

Are you ready for 8 dollar a pound hamburger? Chicken legs at 6 bucks a pound? That very well could happen. The agri-biz will have to pass the ridiculous costs of this program on to the consumers. And forget about raising your own to cut cost...you'll be breaking the law if you do.

As one attendee said: “We have God-given rights that are constitutionally guaranteed in this country.This is just another step in the destruction of our ability to feed ourselves.”

Gosh, Gun Control is working so well here, let's try to do the same with our livestock!

When backyard chickens are outlawed, only outlaws will have backyard chickens.

"Patrick was a Saint---I Ain't!"

Well, now that Blogger has their little early morning glitchiness fixed, I can make an obligatory St. Paddy's Day post.

I had married into a family of Catholics of Scotch/Irish descent. So, naturally, this day ranks right up there as one of the biggest high holy days for them. Prior to that, this day was just another day as far I was concerned. Oh, yeah, I would try to have a least one green item on that day, even if it was just a shamrock pin. I mean, that's what you do right? Having some Irish in me as well (via England) kinda made me feel obligated to at least acknowledge the day. I did stray off the traditional path for awhile and my sense of youthful rebellion compelled me for a time to wear ORANGE on March 17th. I had been raised Protestant and so the traditions of that day weren't so set in stone sacred. It was an inside joke that noone around me got, thankfully.

I have fond memories of festive corned beef dinners, mucho grog afterwards and Celtic tunes blasting from the stereo at my brother in laws home. Eventually someone would spontaneously begin to belt out "Danny Boy" and everyone would join in. We'd dance, we'd cried, we'd get completely plowed. That's whatcha do. It was fun.

My husband passed away a month before March 17th. So when that day rolled around that year, it wasn't the same. All of us were still too heavily steeped in grief to carry-on like we did. I don't even recall if we all actually had a family dinner on that day-that's how out of it I was.
Since then I've been getting further and further away from the traditions, reverting back to my upbringing-where March 17th held absolutely no profound signifcance whatsoever. This morning my kids donned something green- a shirt, a jacket and told me that their teachers had warned them "No pinching allowed today" (spoilsports.) and off they went.

About the only thing I really think about on this day is my husband's 'traditional' T-shirt he'd pull out of the drawer on March 17th-the only day he'd wear it. Kelly green and in white lettering said: "Patrick was a Saint...I Ain't!" He loved that shirt-I did too, it always made me laugh. It was sooo him. He always looked so stark-raving Irish, anyway. Auburn hair, blonde goatee, high apple-like cheekbones that almost concealed his Newman blue eyes when he smiled, which he did-alot. He was always the life of the party. I can recall one St. Pat's party when he tried to demostrate his Celtic dancing ability and put a rip in his jeans. He was afterwards known as "Lord of the Pants".
That's the kind of stuff I think about on this day. Not the legends, not the religious aspects, just my wild Irish boy.

I have since tried every year to find that shirt. Somehow, someway it has vanished from my home. It's not in his old drawer where it always was, freshly washed and neatly folded awaiting the next St. Paddy's day, not in his closet, not misplaced in another drawer-it's like when he passed away, the shirt disapeared as well, as if only he was worthy to wear it.

And in a weird way, that's fine with me.
Happy St. Paddy's Day, William Scott-whereever ye may be. We'll save some corned beef for you.

It Ain't Nuthin' Out of the Ordinary

This story went national.
Just typical for around here.
And that's why I love it here.
When the crap hits the fan, folks help you.
The Marshfield/Seymour area is thick with Amish.
We're not too far away from those communties.
Amish or not, that's just the way people are here. I can count on my neighbors and they can count on me. And that's how it's 'spose to be.

'Bama Buttheads Update

BIRMINGHAM, Ala. - "Three college students accused of setting fire to a string of rural churches can be released from jail on $50,000 bond each, provided they stay away from alcohol, cars and home computers, a judge ruled Thursday."

No mention of also staying away from gasoline, kerosene, bic lighters, matches, lighter fluid...

Propaganda for Wee Folk

"Why Mommy is a Democrat"
(note that Dad is left out of this.)

Be sure to watch for the author's follow up book :
"Why Mommy Sleeps with a Jihadist"

(nod to Gateway Pundit )

Not Much Will Get Done Today-

The goody boxes arrived yesterday.
While I was out in California a few weeks ago taking care of family biz I had selected the choice family heirlooms and bric a brac that meant something to me and carefully boxed it all up and shipped it out here. Parcel Post. That explains the long time it took to get here.
One of the boxes has my old record albums from my misspent yout. Of course that's the one I ripped into first.
First order of business was to reconnect the turntable to our stereo system.
Then assess the condition of my gems.Almost all of them all still in good shape, considering.
I fired up the stereo, slapped a disc on and now suddenly I'm a kid again, laying on the floor in my old room with my Silvertone portable record player that Dad got me from Monkey Wards, grooving to Magical Mystery Tour. I think that audio memory is one of the strongest in me. Hearing all this again, with all the pops and crackles is moving me to tears.
Damn! I had it good then.
Needless to say, I'm gonna be a mess today...wallowing down Memory Lane. I'm allowed that every now and then.

A Great Leap Forward

Wow, in one fell swoop I skipped 3 stages of the evolutionary process!
(Man, and I was so looking forward to being a Crunchy Crustacean for awhile!)
I'd like to thank Hillbilly White Trash for publicly giving me some props on this accomplishment. Shucks, I wasn't expecting that.

Has Anyone Seen Junior?

Child rides toy car towards highway

Child Protective Services and Tulare County sheriff's deputies are investigating a Tulare County family after a witness found a 4-year-old child entering a Highway 99 northbound on-ramp in a battery-operated jeep.

On Monday, deputies responded to the area of Park Street and Terra Bella Street in Pixley. Upon arrival, a witness said he saw a child entering the on-ramp on a battery-operated jeep, approaching northbound traffic.

The witness said he moved the child to a safe location and contacted the Sheriff's Department.

An investigation led deputies to the child's parents several blocks away.

(blantantly swiped from the Visalia Times Delta )

Just a Gentle Reminder...

The ACLU is working on behalf of those wacky folks at the Westboro Baptist Church.

Aye Bee-Gar, Here There Be Moonbats for th' Takin'!

Misha at The Rot and some fellow scallawags have concoted a deliciously fun idea!
Learn about the newly formed "Pirate Armada"
Oh to be 20 years younger! I would have happily embraced this and been a very eager shipmate.
But this ol' seahag just doesn't have the fortitude for this anymore. My raiding days are done.
I will leave it to more capable hands.
But, I will support them and their efforts, if only by sporting their icon on this blog.
Besides, I dig pirates.

Bluto lays out the Pirate's Code, that ye must abide by.

How Bad Was It?

Well, here's a recap, via the Springfield News-Leader.

Personally, we were lucky. It could have been much, much worse.
But this was the first time ever in my 20 years here that I was actually scared enough to wake the younguns and flee for the hideyhole. (A large closet, northeast side of the house, concrete cinder block on 2 sides.) We all fit and it was hot & stuffy-adding dogs to the mix didn't help, but they're 'family' too.

I had stayed up to watch the weather guys. They live for nights like this. The radar image of our area was like a close up of lava flows-there was that much bright orange and pink splattered about. Orange means bad craziness...pink? You don't ever want to see pink. That's Def Con Armageddon. Massive hail and monster tornadoes live in the pink. And there was a gianormous blob of pink hovering over Branson on a direct path to us. The boys at the station called it a supercell, and they were getting very anxious about it. They said it was moving about 55 mph but it just seem to sit in the same spot for the longest time, barely creeping along...that's bad too, btw. I knew we were in for it.

All hell was breaking loose in Springfield and you could actually hear the wind and the hail beating down on the TV studio on the audio. The weather boys were getting nervous and rightly so. Their signal was getting all weird. The satellite dishes outside the station were getting all beat to hell. Tornado touch downs and sightings were coming in so fast they couldn't keep up. If it wasn't for the fact that me and my little brood was smack dab in the middle of all this, I'd say it was some of the most entertaining reality TV I'd seen in some time. But my attention was focused on that beast that was creeping along towards us and I was running the mental "Oh Crap!" checklist. I went to make sure that closet was ready for guests. Had to move one box out to make a space large enough for all us to squeeze in. Got a bigass flashlight and the kids shoes and a pair of mine and tossed them in there. Moved the important document firebox in there too. A few other checks and I was ready as I could get. Now, we wait.

Right at midnight the thing was barreling into Ozark Co. Our lights flashed for a moment, but remarkably stayed on. By about 12:10 the weather boys were giving coordinates and telling everyone who lived near Hiway 95, Wasola, Rockbridge, Squires and so on to find shelter NOW!
OK, ya don't have to tell me twice! I could hear the madness building outside, it had got much louder...the wind was really picking up, I could hear things getting thrown about outside. I woke the kids-It's Go time guys! Now! Let's go!
All six of us huddled up in the closest. Just in time. The hail began just as the last dog was hauled in. The noise was unbelieveable! I had never witnessed hail that bad...or that large. You literally had to shout to be heard. My girls began to cry and hug the dogs. I was just about there, myself. I was genuinely frightened for the first time in a long time but I had to keep it together. I told the girls to pray. Pray for protection.

The bombardment from the hail and wind seemed to last a long time, then it quieted. That was only briefly because in about 2 minutes it began again. Much louder than before.
"Mom!" my eldest shouted, "What about Jellybean?" Jellybean was our name for my car, The Big Green Jellybean. Due to circumstances beyond my control (and too long a story to get into here) I couldn't pull the car into the garage. The poor thing was out there, exposed and no doubt getting it's windshield smashed as we sat there. Yep...my new car is toast, betcha.

The second round didn't last as long as the first. And much to my amazement and to the credit of the local electrical co-op, our power had stayed on the whole time. We had lost the satellite signal on the TV when it had begun and I had a battery radio in the closet with us, tuned to one of the stations that was carrying an audio feed of the tv channel we were watching. I didn't declare the all clear until the signal was back on the TV and we could hear the weather guys yammering away. We didn't have a tornado...but it was purty damn close to one. And I was sure that somewhere nearby somebody was having a far worse night than we were. The kids didn't want to come out, dogs sure did though! Once they did, the kids followed suit. They were shaking and scared. We all did the group hug-I held them close and kissed them all and tried to reassure them in the best Mom way that we were ok, that we had made it. I really didn't want to go outside, afraid of what I might see. But I did. Have to. There was yet another string of storms sweeping into the region and I had to see how our roof held and check the status of Jellybean.

One window on the back porch was broken from the hail-it's one of those double paned jobbers that are a mutha if they break. OK, that was the only window damage. Cool.
Went outside...my car was still there, intact! (Daylight showed a bunch of shallow dings here and there that are easily fixed-no biggy.) Thank ya Jee-zuz!
The house roof looked ok. Barn roof showed some pullage, but was'nt peeled back like I feared. The yard was a mess. Limbs and crap and hail bigger than chicken eggs piled up all over. (grade A, extra large) Whew! Like I said, it could have been much worse.

Took well over an hour to get the kids settled down enough to go back to bed-they slept in mine the rest of the night. I stayed up to keep an eye on the second wave of storms. By 3:30 or so it looked like they weren't going to pose a big threat and I called it lights out. Got up at 5:30 to get my little one up for school. (eldest still has chicken pox) Our creek is up, but the bus was able to get through. I'm gonna hit the sack for a bit and then do clean up later today. I'm whooped!

Around these parts, I don't think there's anything scarier than twisters that hit at night! My heart goes out to everyone who got slammed bad last night. We just had a teensy bit of the terror that goes with all that. Thanks be to God Almighty, we got lucky again.

Plugged Up Tighter Than a Trailer Park Septic System!

Appalacian Gun Trash has a nifty link to check your computer security.

I was almost afraid to test, fearing what I might find out. But curiousity got the better of me.
The site congratulated me on being in full stealth! I truly am unseen on the 'Net. (which, in this case, is a GOOD thing!)
Jeez, I thought I was pretty anal about security, but I didn't think my rig was THAT good!
Maybe running Firefox exclusively has something to do with it.

My Kinda Gal!

My knowledge of ancient British history is weak, other than the place was over run by the Romans and there were Druids. Any more than that and I draw a blank. But that don't mean I don't enjoy learning about it.
Last night the History channel had an entertaining 2 hour program on: "Warrior Queen Boudica"
Boy Howdy, how can ya go wrong with a title like that? Sounds like must-see TV to me!

We learn that Boudica's ol' man was king of the Iceni, a tribe that had the territory to the east on the British Isle. When all the other tribal lands were being captured, plundered and put under Roman rule, the king of the Icenis had a "gentleman's agreement" with the Roman emperor. They co-existed unmolested. That all came to a screeching halt when he suddenly croaked one day and some piddly bureaucrat in the then Roman settlement of Londinium (now London) got wind of it and declared all bets were off-the Iceni territory was theirs for the sacking. He dispatched some Roman soldiers to take care of biz.
Meanwhile, Boudica's hanging tough-she's now the leader of the tribe, she misses her ol' man, but she has a community to rule and 2 young daughters to raise. She thinks the agreement her hubby brokered will hold.
Enter the Romans.
They proceed to go medieval on the Icenis, which is a rather anachronistic phrase to use, considering this takes place in about 60 AD, but you get my drift.
They take Boudica and beat her and publicly flog her then haul off her daughters to do God nose what horrors to them. All manner of general mayhem goes on as the Romans help themselves to the tribe and basically tell Queen Boudica "We don't need no steenkin' badges!"
They leave the place in ruins.
Queenie is seriously pissed now, Eddie. These Roman dogs have raped her kids, flogged her and taken some of her people captive as slaves. This was not how it was suppose to be. Any woman can understand her complete raging anger and desire for revenge and justice.

She hooks up with a neighboring tribe who are suffering the same kind of oppression. An alliance is struck-We ain't gonna stand for this crap! Forces are assembled, Boudica's put in charge.
Pretty soon a mass of all manner of pissed-off peasantry is gathered. Anyone stout enough to swing a sword is encouraged to join. Women, kids, teens, men, farmers ,warriors, the odd Celt here and there. Soon their numbers swell to something like 30,000!
They march on a nearby Roman settlement and take it completely by surprize and burn the mutha to the ground, taking out almost all the citizens and plundering the goods. The Romans are wigged out, but due to them spending too much manpower wiping out the Druids over on the other side of the isle, they have been caught with their pants down and not enough legions to take care of the sitch. So they're scrambling. Meanwhile Boudica and her army, which have now grown to possibly almost 50,000 strong, are planning to wipe out another settlement. Her boys ambushed and wiped out an entire legion who were sent to get a handle on the crisis. Atta girl!

Anyway, they take Londinium, which has been abandoned by the Roman forces who knew they would be seriously outnumbered (nice going guys) and go apocalyptic on it. The destruction there is ledgendary (that is, if you are a Brit) By now our girl has got quite a following.

Alas, it was not a happy ending. Eventually the Romans got the upper hand-even though they were seriously outnumbered by Boudica's army, her failing as a strategist got the better of her and her people. Damn. She did survive the final battle, but it is speculated that, mortified by the defeat and slaughter, she took her own life with poison.

Oh and the idiot quill pusher that set all this in motion? The chickenhead fled across the channel to France (then Gaul) because he (rightfully) feared that Boudica was gunning for him.
Some things never change!

Here's what Wiki has to say about my new hero. Not as entertaining as the program, though.

I Love Spring, But-

I can't handle the atmospheric instability that goes with it. We always get these monster storms that always veer out of control.
As I type this we have yet another Tornado Warning- this puppy's close enough to make me nervous. They're saying it'll blow past to the northeast of us...just barely. It has already trashed part of Branson. I hear thunder and the sky is purty dark. No basement. This place is my castle, but it's times like this I feel very vunerable. Geographically, we're in a low spot, so that has always worked in our favor. I don't know if that's a myth or not, but it's gotten pretty crazy here before and we've always squeaked by with just some tree damage. We got one possible safe spot in the house, and if we all hold our breath it's just barely big enough to accomodate us all (dogs included).

So I best be going. Check the local updates as long as the tv works and get ready in case we have to shift into "Oh Crap" mode!
Jeez, I hate tornadoes!
Wish us luck-it's gonna be a bumpy night!


UPDATE: The worst has passed for now. Springfield got smacked like a red headed step child. But we're in the clear for now. We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

"Cowboy Leg Beautiful Pole"

(No, that's not an obscure Brokeback Mountain reference.)

If you are a fan of mangled English (-and who isn't?) then check out what has to be the most hilariously mangled restaurant menu-EVER. It is legit.
Please don't be drinking anything liquid whilst reading it! Also make sure your bladder is completely empty.
You've been warned.

(and if that wasn't enough for you, then you must go visit Engrish.com.)

Now Y'all's Just Being Silly...

Gateway Pundit has a round-up of the latest horrific and blaphemous offenses against Islam.


We shoulda bombed these id'jets back to the Stone Age when we had the chance.
Wait, come to think of it, the Stone Age would be a great advancement for their civilization!
Nevermind...

Nobody's Laughing

One of the 2 college punks that were arrested this morning for the recent spate of church burnings in Alabama is quoted as saying it all started as: "a joke and it got out of hand."

No...stealing your frat buddies BVD's and running them up the local YMCA's flagpole is a "joke". This crap is criminal...from the very first, plain and simple.

But even if we did buy into that pathetic rationale, I would like to know just when, son, did it begin to get out of hand? After the first one? The second? The third? Just when does a twisted spoiled clueless simpering punk like you suddenly think to himself: "Whoa, dudes...this ain't funny anymore!"
These boys have no more sense than God gave a duck. I just hope they're orphans...cuz I'd hate to be their parents right now.
(Actually, it does mention that the cops were able to trace a tire tread to one of the idiots mom's car!!! Dude! Rule # 1-Never commit a FEDERAL offense driving your mom's car! That is such a bust!)

Hmmm, I wonder if Adolph's buddies ever used that excuse to explain away KrystalNacht?
("Well, really all we wanted to do was trash this one guy's store cuz he like, y'know shortchanged us when we went in to buy some beer-Gustav thought it would be funny and well...y'know...things just got out of hand...")


UPDATE: Well, alrighty-now we find out that these weenies won't be charged with "hate crimes". They just wanted to see stuff burn...uh, excuse me, if that was the case then why did they only burn CHURCHES?? These were in rural areas-wasn't there any old barns? Shacks? Woods, pastures? Abandoned tire dumps? If satisfying a weird pyro urge was the sole reason, there were so many ways these ya-yas could have got their jollies.
There's more going on here...but damn if we'll ever find out, eh?

Good Thing We Don't Have Them Goldarn Mosskews Here

Since tonight was a light homework load for the youngest and the eldest is snoozing off a fever (Yes, Chicken Pox 2, The Scourge has hit my other youngun.)- I figured I'd get caught up on some blog reading and general goofing off online. There was a comment at the Rot that linked to a series of disturbing articles written by Laura Mansfield, "Jihad in Smalltown America".
In one of the stories she recounts what goes on at a mosque holding their version of Vacation Bible School for the kiddies. She was somehow allowed access for a day, it is not explained how. But anyway, this part creeped me out the most ( it was in part 4) :

"She told the kids how to determine when it was appropriate to shout “Allah Akbar”: in times of great joy, when someone is martyred, or when the Zionists or Kafirs are attacked. She introduced a video, in Arabic, showing scenes from the West Bank, and told the kids to shout “Allah Akbar” when they thought they should.

The kids quickly got the message that when something blew up, or an Israeli soldier was shot that they should shout Allah Akbar. I expressed my concern to Tiffani about children so young being exposed to such violent scenes. Tiffani/Amina assured me that the kids had been watching similar videos since they were two years old, and that they weren’t disturbed in the slightest by them."

OK, that's bad enough.
What is horrifying to me as a Mom is knowing this was a class of 5 and 6 year olds!! Absolutely chilling. I don't think I can complete reading the series...I'm too weirded out right now. But, I do highly recommend it. Excellent read about the inside of the bright and happy religion of peace-right in our backyards. Too bad it's Non-fiction.

Oh. My. Friggin'. God! (part 2)

Noooooooooo! Not Edgar!!!!
EDDDDDDDDDGAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!
Ah jeez...why does the fat guy always get it?
Bastards!
(and yes, I did cry...alittle....ok....alot.)
Chloe's gonna have to go "Jack" on somebody after this!
Oh, there will be hell to pay.

Why, Yes... We Know Jack

WooHoo...not just one but a 2 episode block of "24" tonite!!
I'm really gonna have to beat feet back from the younguns dance class to make this one since it starts earlier than usual.
I'm sure the local highway patrol will understand.

Send Lawyers, Cigs and Pork Rinds

Ok, I know I'm late to the party on this one- but I would be amiss not to have this story here...since it does deal with "white trash" albeit of the most loathsome order. Sadly, not the kind of trash I would care to be associated with.
Hillbilly Political Machine run amok! And with all the usual incestrious, despot family connections. (love them nicknames!)

"The investigation into allegations of voter fraud evolved from early reports of attempted vote buying before town elections that reportedly involved items like bags of pork rinds, packs of cigarettes, and six-packs of beer."

(Just wonder if they sprang for the 'good stuff' or just Milwaukee's Best? That choice alone would have tipped the scales in my neck of the woods.)

I heard this story on Rush's show late last week and at that time the party affliations of those involved was unknown. And at the time of Gateway Pundit's posting of the story it was STILL unrevealed! One wonders why the big secret?

Hmmmmm....anyone wanna take a guess? You gotta 50/50 chance of being correct.

Oh. My. Friggin'. God!

Y'know, I didn't think it was possible that the Hollyweirdos could manage to offend every single human in fly-over country in only the first 15 minutes of the Oscars.

They pulled it off.

And I changed channels to a rerun of "24".
I saw all I needed to see.

Oh, He was Just a Wacky Blowhard...

It seems that the spin is becoming that Hussein really wasn't that big of an orgre afterall.
Sorry, I'm old enough to vividly recall what he did to the Kurds back in what? the 80's? (Gawd, was it that long ago?) The news reports brought tears to my somewhat jaded eyes then.

Michael Totten's post here had me in tears all over again.
The mom in me just totally lost it when he got to writing about the little kids in the Baath prisons, and the messages they left desparately scrawled on the cell walls. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Reflections of a Hick

Y'know, there ain't nothing like a trip outside into the modern, metropolitan world to remind you just how friggin' backward you have allowed yourself to become.
My recent trip to the Left Coast had me with mixed emotions. On one hand I felt so out of my element, lost, befuddled, gobsmacked by all the advancements that all these dorks in the city took for granted. I had a huge "Slack-jaw Hick" stamp on my forehead and was very self-concious. Like an Amish going to Disneyland-it was that disconcerting.
On the other hand, it just reinforced my decision I had made some 20 years ago to flee the city was,indeed, the right one all along. Time stopped for me, in a sense, in 1986.
Shoot, when I first moved here you could easily purchase 8 track tapes, still, in the stores! My stock one liner to my remaining urbanite pals was that here in my part of the world we were just now converting from 8 track to cassettes when asked if I had got the latest CD by some artist. CD players??! Hell's Bells-what are you talking about, man?
What the hell are those??! You might as well be talking about nuclear fission, it was that foreign and futuristic a concept.
The house I currently live in finally got wired for electricity as recently as 1962-ish-when power finally got to this region.
You get the idea.

With the arrival of satellite TV in this area about 8 years ago, my knowledge of the outside world and all the advancements in technology was brought up to speed, but even still knowing about such things and actually seeing them in use is still a little freaky. Like those friggin' Bluetooth thingies. I saw plenty of those in the airports in use by business guys trying to look like they're important and somebody. To me, it made them look like some sort of derelect mentally ill bum...suddenly, spontaneously jabbering away outloud at some unseen person. At least with a cell phone, you have a visual clue that person next to you is talking to someone and you can ignore (or try to ignore) the conversation. With those damn things, you don't know what the heck is going on. I got caught, unaware, much to my embaressment many times by some guy sitting near or next to me in the airport who just suddenly would blurt out "Hi! How are you?"
"OK." I would politely reply just as I realized he wasn't talking to me. My "Slack- jaw Hick" stamp would begin to glow on my forehead.

Nothing humbles you more when you can't even figure out how to work a gas pump.I had offer to go fill up my brother's heap while out there and drove over to the corner Mom&Pop in the neighborhood. Everything was just ducky, got the gas cap off and turned to grab the hose and then....uhhhhhhhhhh. Oh crap. OK...I can do this. Uhhhh.
I'm sure it was only a couple of minutes, but it felt like 20. I froze, confused. How do I start this? What the heck do I do? Finally the exasperated clerk came on the speaker and walked me through it so all the others there could hear what an ig'nert dumbass I was. My forehead was burning...again.

By the time my trip was over I had a raging technological induced headache.
Never had I been so happy to see that buckshot riddled green and white highway sign that proclaimed that I was now back in Ozark County, the land that time forgot. Thank ya, Jeeezuz!

And the scars on my forehead should fade within the week.

Just Some Punk Kid...

"He is the 19-year old author of Death to America: The Unreported Battle of Iraq and founder of WorldThreats.com. He was originally hired at age 16 as a geopolitical analyst for Tactical Defense Concepts. He is also a volunteer analyst and researcher for the Northeast Intelligence Network and the Reform Party of Syria and believed to be the youngest hired geopolitical analyst in the country..."

(Jeez, my only biggest achievement at that age was being able to chug a pint of Southern Comfort in one gulp and remain conscious! I'm so ashamed.)

Read more about this precocious young lad and what he has to say about WMDs HERE!

The "Toldjah So's" just keep piling up!

A Pox Upon My House

So I'm sittin' at SGF last week just moments before boarding my flight to California when my phone rings. Uh Oh.
Nobody calls that number unless it's super important.
It's the school nurse. My youngest is there with a fever and reports she feels like crap.
She was perfectly fine the nite before when I dropped both of them off at their caretakers.
( a wonderful elderly couple who are like their adopted grandparents and spoil 'em rotten.)
Ah jeez! I tell her to contact a certain person who is authorized to pick up my kids in my stead on these rare occasions when I can't be there and secretly just hope it's some anxiety over my leaving for this trip.

It wasn't.
24 hours later the adopted gran'ma calls me in California and tells me my youngest has chicken pox!
Talk about massive maternal guilt. Here my baby is facing a major childhood illness and where am I? 2000 miles away, thank you very much. I was just about sick myself from worry. It was bad enough that I had been dreading this trip to begin with since it would entail sorting through over 55 years of my parents belongings, a memorial service for my Mom and doing all the other nasty legalities that such a thing requires, now I also had this to contend with. Oy!

But I knew my little one was in good hands, this gal was an old pro. A farmer's wife, she had raised 3 boys and had had experience with this sort of thing and much worse, I'm sure. She reported that my little girl was doing just fine, holding court on the sofa, surrounded with plenty of coloring books, a warm quilt, a never ending supply of juice, kid vids and every kid channel DirecTV has at her fingertips...she had it made, in other words. So I calmed down some. Especially after I spoke with my child and she asked if she could come there everytime she was sick...oh, thanks alot. But that assured me she was gonna be alright.

All the business tended to in California and I was winging home yesterday morning. I couldn't wait to collect my kids. We finally got home last night about 9-ish.
It's been awhile since I have seen someone with chicken pox. And it was even more dramatic seeing my own child with it. The fever and initial illness now passed, she acted all the world like her usual self...except for these horrible scabs all over her face and tiny body, looking all the world like the worst case of acne ever. Good thing we always seem to have plenty of bottles of calamine all over this house. We're gonna need 'em.

She's 86'd from school until all the poxi have healed over. She still has a few weepy spots, so she'll probably will be out the rest of this week. I believe my eldest said she counted 143 pox on her...not counting the plethora in her scalp, in which case, that may bring the number up to nearly 160. My youngest is especially proud of the one in her armpit, and will happily show you it if you ask-or even if you don't. Sheesh...kids!