Saturday, April 24, 2010

Are guns dangerous? YUP!

    Danny and I "borrowed" Dad's 22 pistol and hurried down to the river to see how many fish we could catch. Like ya right, we were going fishing. I guess if you call throwing cans in the river and shooting at them as they float by "fishing" then we weren't lying. Danny was in command and was plinking away at the cans as I threw them in. At last I decided Danny had shot his share of the bullets and it was now my turn.
    "Gimmie the gun right now, it's my turn," I ordered trying to sound as bossy as I could.
    "No, I'm older and I get to shoot more than you," smiled Danny with a look of superiority.
    "I'll tell Dad you took his gun without permission if you don't give it to me right now," I warned.
    "Go ahead big tattletale."
    "Hand it over right now!" I yelled reaching up to grab it from him. Then a struggle ensued with me trying to grab the gun away from him. You would think I would have learned something from the "knife hacking incident" several years back, but I guess not.
    "Knock it off  you idiot. Don't you know how dangerous it is to fight over a gun? It could go off and kill someone," he ordered as he lowered the gun. Then, "BAM" it did go off for real! He had unintentionally pulled the trigger and fired the gun. His face immediately grimaced in pain and he started howling like a coyote at a full moon.
    "Ouch, damn it hurts!" he cried, "See what you've done. Now I'm probably going to die!"
    I was in shear terror and white as a ghost. I followed him as he limped around, asking him where it had hit him and begging him not to tell Dad on me. Like for sure, Dad wasn't going to find out. His son had just shot himself and needed immediate medical attention and I wanted to keep it a secret.
    "I think it went through the bone," groaned Danny staring down at his leg in agony. By now I was willing to do anything, but oh no, Danny had a good thing going here so he kept it up.
    "It's all your fault you stupid kid. You shouldn't have been trying to grab it from me. Now I might not ever be able to walk again.
    "What are we gonna do? We can't tell Dad, he will kill us," I said terrified of the future.
    "I don't know but you better let me lean on your shoulder and help me walk back home or I might bleed to death before we get to a hospital."
    I immediately became a volunteer crutch and started walking slowly back home.
    "I don't see any blood or hole in your foot. Where did it hit you?" I said becoming a little suspicious.
    "Gosh, haven't you seen the movies? Sometimes it takes a little while before blood spurts out all over," he answered trying to hide his smile.
    "You're lying, you didn't get hit. Take your shoe off and let me see your foot," I ordered.
    "OK, help me sit down," he said dragging it out as long as possible.
    He carefully untied his shoe and grimaced in false labor as he pulled it off. He then began thoroughly looking for a bloody hole, or a missing toe, or even a scratch. But he searched in vain. When I finally realized it had been a setup, he began rolling in the dirt laughing at me. I was eying that sixshooter and getting ready to make a jump for it so I could show him what a real bullet felt like.
    After he had laughed himself sick, he sobered up and said, "No, serious though, I thought for a minute that I had shot my foot because it just went off accidentally. It must have been a close one cause it was aiming right at my it."
    "Well you almost gave me a heart attack you idiot," I said relieved at not being implicated in a murder.
    "Well, that'll teach ya not to be grabbing guns anymore now won't it?"
    I guess it did....for a while anyway.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Playing with gunpowder!

    Not very many kids in this world get to grow up in an environment like we did. The beautiful river running by our farm made it a paradise. We could go swimming, fishing or boating any time we wanted. We had the mountains all to ourselves for hunting and hiking and camping. Our parents owned a herd of horses for riding the many trails. We had homemade go-carts and motorbikes. You would think that with all this excitement we would be spending our free time at doing one of the above. But  oh no, we had better things to do. Like sneaking down to the hidden weapons cache and stealing a two gallon can of gunpowder. Now this wasn't your normal fine gunpowder. This was a special powder much more dangerous. We figured life wasn't exciting unless you  tempted the grim reaper once in a while. Or unless you put your life on the line for your buddies, yes sir. And since the opportunity to become a war hero didn't come around too often, we were forced to create the scenario ourselves. There were several us you young boys in this group as we hauled this two gallon can of gunpowder to where we thought no one could see us.
    "Let's take this and see how big a fire it makes," said Someone. Up until now I didn't know there was a kid named someone in the family.
    "That sound like a great idea," said Someone else. That was Somebody's brother, I swear.
    "Dump a little pile on the ground and light it so we can watch it burn," offered some other Einstein. So, the oldest one in the pack dumped a small pile on the ground and struck a match to it. We all jumped back and watched the fire shoot into the air.
    "Cool, like wow dude, do it again, only this time make a bigger pile!" Well, this time we ran for cover as the flames shot into the air.
    "Awesome dude, that's some sweet stuff. Let's make a bigger pile this time." It goes without saying that is what we did, only this time a lethal mistake was made. In his haste to get away from the flames the "fire-whisperer" left the can full of powder with the lid off, only a few feet away from the fire. Thus the fire from the "biggest" pile ignited the much larger can of powder.
    A huge explosion resounded throughout our valley as fire shot over two hundred feet into the air! A few seconds later after we had gathered our senses, and body parts, did we realize what had just happened. All of us....except one person of course....escaped the searing heat of the flames. Naturally it had to be the youngest innocent bystander, my brother David who was not even eight years old. Just as he had turned to run away, he tripped over a rock and down he went, face first into the ground. Before he could  think about getting up, fire was raining down from  heaven as we watched helplessly from a distance. He quickly jumped up and started running away as the smoking flames burned through his clothing. I shifted from shock into high gear and chased him down, slapping at the fire on his clothing and putting it out. At the shop a few hundred yards away, Uncle Paul and the rest of the world had heard the explosion and came running to see what in God's burnt earth had happened!
    Mom started to cry when she saw her son, but she quickly pulled herself together and took charge. She started applying Aloe Vera leaves to the large blisters that were now forming on his back. This helped tremendously but he was still in agony. The only solution was to lay him on his stomach on a plank with both arms in buckets of cold water while she softly soaked his back with a wet cloth. Once again, Dad was gone on a trip with the only vehicle in the family that could have taken him to the hospital several hours away. As usual there were no phones or means to communicate with the outside world, so we had to do the best we could, right there. All night long and a few days after that, Mom was by his side keeping a wet cloth on his burns to soothe the pain.
   When Dad returned and saw his son lying there suffering, he was furious. I was the oldest of his sons at the "bomb making" incident, so he took his anger out on me in the form of a hard whipping which I deserved. I should have got my younger brothers and got the hell out of there, but I didn't, I was part of it. The next day I was pretty sore from that whipping but I'm sure it didn't compare to what David was going through. He eventually healed up just fine except for a few scars on his elbows and back. After that catastrophe, we steered clear of gun powder for a long time, but one thing leads to the next and now instead of gunpowder, it would be guns! But we'll wait for the next post to tell you about that one.
And that my friends, is fuel for the mind.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Joe gives the scammers hell. You rule Joe!

Just got back from Shadow of my life blog. He is downright hilarious! I'll bet those scammers are wetting their pants in anticipation of his complying with their stupid requests. I want to give Joe an award, he deserves it. So come on over an grab it. If you want a good laugh get on over to his blog.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Just one of those average good 'ol days in my young life.

   When I was about eight years old, we moved from Vegas out to our ranch in the isolated rocky mountains. We were very poor and for a few years we didn't even have the luxury of indoor plumbing. Upon arriving at the farm, Dad was broke. We had to make do with a "temporary" living quarters in the form of a big green army tent. Dad did improve on it a little by installing a real working door instead of a zipper flap and a couple of glass windows. Yet for quite some time, the most important thing which is a bathroom, was a luxury Dad couldn't afford. So, early in the morning when the urge to go is at its zenith, we young boys would wander outside rubbing our eyes like zombies. Then we'd all line up on the bank in the front yard and have a "see who can go the furthest" contest. I always wondered why those trees down below turned yellow and died. Just imagine a half dozen young boys, some in their P-j's others just in their skivvies, all lined up on the bank arcing nice streams down on those poor trees.
   Now the women folk weren't endowed with the same plumbing as us boys, so Dad solved this by building a nice outhouse for them. Now they had no reason to complain because this baby was a side-by-side double-crapper, that way there would be no waiting in line. The only problem with this beauty is it didn't afford central heating, so in the winter months when you went out in the middle of the night to "moon the rattlers" it was mighty cold. The women once again complained and Dad solved this by building some indoor pluming in the form of a plywood box with a hole in the top. Over that was a folding lid and underneath, a five gallon bucket. Dad graciously gave us young boys the honor of emptying it morning and evening and you can bet we weren't too happy about it. But at least the cold blooded people didn't have to go out into the freezing darkness to find the "dual-cesspool" anymore.
    In the summer months our temporary dwelling was like an oven and attracted all kinds of slimming creatures and pesky insects. There were tarantulas and black widow spiders; huge ten-inch centipedes and evil scorpions, gila monsters and diamondback rattle snakes. Of all these, the devilish little scorpion was by far the most annoying. The others pretty much minded their own business, but not that trouble seeking scorpion. He would purposely smell out a human 10000 times his size and launch a full scale barbed attack on him. I don't understand a scorpion's thinking. Why would they attack someone 10000 times their size? Do they think they're spartan warriors or something? Don't they know they will be instantly turned to pulverized meat and sent to hell or wherever they go when they die? I can just see me with a poison spear in my hand attacking a six-hundred foot giant. "A-ha, I gotcha you big bully!" I shout as I stab him in the big toe before being crushed into a mushy pulp. Then as I head down to fire and brimstone, I wonder, "What in the hell did I do that for. Do I have a big ego problem or what? 
    One of our extended family members, -and I won't mention names here- was calmly using the WC one afternoon. Now remember, we were quite poor at the time and good 'ol Charmin tissue was a scarce commodity. This unfortunate person had hid a nice wad of his own personal "crack-cleaner" so he wouldn't get caught in an uncomfortable situation. He was in a hurry to get to the river for some swimming so he grabbed a handful. As he did his duty with it, he felt the searing pain of that nasty scorpion's razor sharp spear. Three times it nailed him before it fell down into the stinking depths below. It was obviously upset at being used for cleaning purposes and once again attacked somebody a million times its size. 
    Well the scorpion's sting is like a rattler bite. It take some time before you feel the full heart-throbbing pain from the poison. At the river, we were having a grand old time dunking each other and doing belly-flops off the ledges. Suddenly the hollering of someone in pain caused everyone to stop their fun for a moment to see what the fuss was all about. Sure enough, Uncl...I mean the scorpion victim was rolling on the beach in pain. The poison had finally settled down and started doing its job, which is to make you as miserable as possible. 
   I'm sure after that harrowing ordeal, he learned a valuable lesson and that is to carefully inspect Mr. Charmin for hidden venomous insects before you clean yourself in such tender areas!

Friday, April 2, 2010

Abraham Lincoln; hero or villain. You decide.

   It all started with Dishonest Abe who orchestrated the murder of 600,000 + Americans to force us to have a strong central government that the founding fathers tried to avoid at all costs. And now we have a Muslim socialist making it much worse as fast as he can stroke that pen! The USA should now be called the USSA. United States of Socialist America. The public school system has taught for years that dishonest Abe was a hero who worshiped God and saved the republic and freed the slaves. BUT that is NOT the truth. He never went to church in his life and he bordered on atheism. He did not save the republic in no way, but instead he declared marshal law and took away the sovereignty of the states and gave bankers the full power over the economy. He did not free the slaves. They were already being freed in the northern states and he was an avid slave owner. He could have freed the slaves in a peaceful manner like Briton did and France and Spain and Sweden and Denmark. But instead he used slavery as an excuse to murder his own people because they were exercising their constitutional rights of sovereignty to withdraw from the union because dishonest Abe had levied an unconstitutional tax against the poor southern states that they could not afford to pay. And worst of all...dishonest Abe forced ALL Americans into slavery by starting the most unjust, unconstitutional law ever forced on the american people....the IRS!!! He did this knowing full well that it would NEVER be rescinded. So all you who think Abe is a hero, throw your socialist history books in the trash and educate yourselves with true history......! Nowhere in the congressional law books or constitution can you find a written law or code giving the IRS the power to collect taxes from American people.
    In reality, the Lincoln Memorial is a temple to the idea that government in America is NOT voluntary, and never will be as long as Lincoln is its primary symbol and as long as Lincoln mythology remains the state's cornerstone ideology. Lincoln micromanaged the murder of thousands of Americans in order to prove his point that the central government is NOT voluntary, the states were NEVER sovereign (his own words) and that any group of citizens contemplating leaving it will be killed en masse, their cities burned to the ground, and their wealth confiscated by the US army!
    As a young man Lincoln wrote a book that argued that the Bible was NOT the word of God and that Jesus was NOT the son of God. When he decided to get into politics, he had the book burned. When Herndon was preparing his biography, he asked Mrs. Lincoln to comment on Abe's religious views and she told him that he never became a Christian. "Mr. Lincoln," she said, "had no faith, he never joined a church."

    And now we have a person in the White House who is also NOT a Christian and is subtlety forcing socialism-marxism on the American people. The health care bill is much more than just health care. On page 1001 is "Subtitle C- National Medical Device Registry" which states, 
    "The Secretary shall establish a national medical device registry to facilitate analysis of postmarket safety and outcomes data on each device that is or has been used in or on a patient..."
    In other words, everyone will by microchipped pursuant to the new Health Care Bill and must be registered with the Secretary of Health and Human Services. This law will be enforced 36 months after the health care bill becomes law! 
Not only will we be forced by the IRS to buy health insurance or be audited and fined and even jailed, but we now have to be chipped to "facilitate the doctors in viewing our medical files." NOW THAT IS SCARY AS HELL! 
    Friends, buy the book, "Lincoln Unmasked" by Thomas Dilorenzo and get the real facts about Lincoln.  
    Just another rant folks....and of course, fuel for the mind.