I Love Servicemen and Women

IMG_0060I love servicemen, and women. People who charge into the breech, protecting us while we sleep without a second thought. Those who keep the watch. War is always an unpopular decision, and as it drags on it becomes more unpopular, but the soldiers who wage it are but the instruments of political will, not the directors. The way it’s supposed to work is some foreign nation attacks America, and our armed forces repel that action. The president, and congress are supposed to reflect the will of the people. Sadly, of late, such is not the case.

I remember so vividly, during the Vietnam war, the ire against it turned on our returning troops. Part of the North Vietnamese strategy was to sow discontent among the American people, a plan that some in position fell into step. People such as Jane Fonda, Donald Sutherland, and yes, John Kerry, all marching to the Vietnamese drum. The political winds that were blowing had indeed driven us into a war with no purpose. History has proven that the little Asian nation made absolutely no difference at all to the world stage. Eventually, they got a unified country, and we got a wall!

The soldiers came home, the war was over, but there were no parades, no flags, no “VE” day, just broken men and women, trying to forget. Politics did that to them, not the war. When you go far from home to fight you simply have to have the reason to do so. With the horror of war you must know, in your heart, that there is a reason for it. You have the right to expect that upon coming home, the memories will be silenced by the applause if the people at the airport. You do not expect to be spit upon. You do not expect the ghosts to still be there forty years later.

America has made an entire industry of protecting the “freedom” of other nations. Again, politics plays the role, not the will of the people. Politicians invent, and arm entities such as Al Qaeda, and then stand back in snake amazement when the mad dog they fed bites us! And their reasoning? Russia might take over the world! History has shown that Russia did good just taking over Russia! Their weak hold went away like cotton candy when they tried to match America dollar for Ruble in the “cold” war. When the twin towers went down we rushed to seek the perpetrators. It wasn’t hard to figure out. In effect, we had bought the plane tickets. The politicians, and their lapdogs in the CIA had unleashed that terror, and the very word, “terror” became a catch phrase in order to get the American people to sell their freedom, shred the constitution, and allow our soldiers to charge off after one crazy old man on a walking stick because, yet again, someone might take over the world!

Do you want to know what the Trump phenomenon really is? I’ll tell you. It is the outrage of the American people at the political wasteland they’ve had to endure for the last fifty years. It’s the arrogance of people like Hillary Clinton, who point at a successful American businessman, and claim he isn’t savvy enough to direct the ship of state because that ship has been floundering so long that only the most consummate liar can even hope to guide it. The very idea that the government of the people is far beyond the people’s understanding, and our only hope is this ruling class, this Illuminati, this new royalty. That’s the reason Donald Trump will be the next president of the United States! The American people are taking over the White House, and if we ever have a just war in the future there will be applause at the airport. I love servicemen, and women. Continue reading “I Love Servicemen and Women”




The whole TransGender thing has taken a decided route, and it’s wrong! Everyone is screaming about hairy-legged men parading into a girl’s restroom, and diddling the little girls, and while that’s a real possibility, it’s not the real oxymoron that presents itself to the inquiring mind. Obama has attached education funding to this latest assault on common sense. To make school restrooms more user friendly it has been decreed that if said child “feels like a girl” then they are a girl, and may act accordingly. If you like your penis, you can keep your penis. Ok let’s talk law.

Age of consent. Age of consent is a reasoning that says until a person reaches a certain age they are not fully equipped to make certain choices. Things like, smoking, drinking, joining the army, getting a tattoo, voting, and, of course, sex. However, if said child decides to change gender, no problem! Hormone therapy, weird bathrooms, and a president saying, “If I had a son, he’d look like him. . . or her. . . or whatever. While no doctor in his right mind would ever do a sex change on anyone below the age of eighteen, therapy is within the bounds.

Now, let’s talk about percentages. Just how many TransGender kids would you suppose there are in a given school? Well, it’s well below one percent. Now let’s talk money. Please reference this article and note that the free clinic does not give hormone therapy. Poor kids don’t go TransGender. Rich kids go TransGender! All weird, out of place, unusual crap usually comes from people living off of daddy’s money.

Now, let’s talk money. We gots a problem in the skool! Yeah. We really do. Bullying, mass shootings, pedophile teachers, and a system that teaches nothing, nada! And they rely on federal funding. Sooooo, you threaten to take that funding away if you don’t have a cross-dressing station in the rest room and the school conforms. Then Suzie Sweetcheeks tells Bubba (Her football star boyfriend) that TransGender Tony looked at her poodie-poo and Bubba beats him to within an inch of his life. LAWSUIT! Why weren’t there guards for Tony while he was masturbating in the stall while looking under at Susie? See where this is going?

We’re not talking about Target! We’re talking about children at school. I don’t like Target anyway. Hey, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I wouldn’t mind at all if some hottie drifted into the restroom while I’m taking a pee. But, you see, that’s the issue. Girls aren’t going into boy’s bathrooms, it’s the other way around. We used to have to drill holes in high school to get a peek. C’mon! Don’t we have more to worry about than who squats or stands? Actually, I think this has pushed the American public to the limit.

Now, for a final note. Hypothetical court case. I pick up a sixteen-year-old girl in a bar. (It’s Texas, it happens, deal with it!) One thing leads to another, and of course, she tells mommy. After the obligatory butt stomping from daddy and the cops, I end up on trial, and little Jane gets on the stand.

Prosecutor: Do you know the defendant?

Jane: Yes.

Prosecutor: Did you have sex with said defendant?

Jane: Yes.

Prosecutor: Did he know your age?

Jane: Well, yeah.

Prosecutor: Please state your age.

Jane: Well, my chronological age is sixteen, but inside I feel like I’m a thirty-five year old divorcee, unless it’s Wednesday, and then I feel like a cat.

(Case dismisses) Thank you, Mr. President.



Revolution! Jot that down, there’ll be a quiz later. Back in the day there was this act by congress. The Civil Rights Act of 1964.


The Civil Rights Act of 1964 (Pub.L. 88–352, 78 Stat. 241, enacted July 2, 1964) is a landmark piece of civil rights legislation in the United States[5] that outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.[6] It ended unequal application of voter registration requirements and racial segregation in schools, at the workplace and by facilities that served the general public (known as “public accommodations“).

Pay close attention to the word, “schools” there. Ok, let’s peel the onion, shall we? Down the road, about ten years there was this case presented to the Supreme Court. One Lau v Nichols. You can click that link and learn all about it, but I’ll make it simple. There were these Chinese kids who didn’t quite get English in the school, and were therefore hindered in their education. Note the phrase above, “racial segregation in schools.” When a kid can’t learn subjects in school because he/she can’t understand what’s being said that’s “segregation.” So the court said, “Foul!” The kids need to be able to understand so they can receive an education equal to their English speaking classmates. Sounds good.

The theory was to teach English as a second language, with the assumption that if a child entered the first grade speaking only Chinese, by the time they reached, say, the fourth or fifth grade they would be able to understand at least enough English to make it. And it worked . . . for the Chinese! Remember the rule, no good deed will go unpunished. So it is with 414 US 563!

Go forward to Texas, and the Mexican school children happily rattling Spanish at home, and understanding nothing but lunch in school. SMU, in true liberal fashion, applied the ruling from Lau v Nichols to Mexican kids in Texas, and came up with a plan. They, like the educators in the California case, decided to teach the children in Spanish, while pushing them toward a proficiency in English. To effect this they brought in ladies (from Mexico) who could teach in Spanish. Oh, they were “qualified” to be teachers in Texas, green card and all, and they set to work. Peel the onion.

What we have here, is failure to communicate. In the Chinese culture there were two or three generations that were in the United States already, with no plans to go back to China. Ma Ma, Pa Pa, Grandmaw, and all the kids and grandkids. Child would be born, and grow up an American, but, until about the age of six all they’d hear around the house is Chinese. Hence, when getting on the big yellow bus they entered a new world. However, the Chinese attitude was that the child had to learn English if they were ever going to succeed in the American environment. While they celebrated Chinese New Year, they did it with an American flag.

That wasn’t the TexMex agenda. The imported “teachers,” while giving lip service to English instruction, made sure that the students (in Spanish) understood that they were Mexican, their heritage was Mexican, their flag was Mexican, and everything from Houston to L. A. had been stolen from them by all them there gringos who won’t give their fathers a decent paying job because they are MEXICAN! English was the language of the oppressors. In the end the kids fifty years later were no better off than the ones at the beginning, and this created an entire society of low wage earners, forming a separatist society, completely independent of the country they live in, longing for a future nation, not Mexico, not the US, but rather “Texico,” a third, independent nation, stretching from Texas to California with the dollar and the Peso on equal status. I Crappith Thee NOT!

Now these folks are irritated. Little trivia here, these guys are about 54% of the population of Texas alone. Vicente Fox, former president of Mexico, recently said that if Donald Trump is elected president of the US Mexico will go to war against the US. Don’t look at the border for the troops coming in, look behind you because they’re already here. Please note how Hillary is always all tangled up with the Mexicans. Also, remember when I told you about the clusters of the disenchanted Mexicans all around our bread basket states? Yeah. Um Hum. La RAZA! That means, “The Race,” by the way. Not “our” race, or “a” race, but the race, with community centers already set up and plans already lain for the complete domination for the south west, and the return of all those lands to the disenfranchised Mexican people who couldn’t give a damn about English. Revolution! When you see this transpire you’re gonna wish that wall was there. . . with machine guns.


(A Love Story)

At the  Santa Ria

As Brad turned the corner onto MLK heading for the freeway in Austin that night his mind was alive with thought. He was a realtor and with three good closings in the bag, and this month seemed secure. At twenty-six he had a firm hold on who he was, and where he was going. His condo in the Great Hills south of Austin was a fantastic home. He had money, a car, friends, and a few girls both professional. and some not so professional who thought the world of him. He couldn’t wait to get to work each day and was reluctant to put each day to rest.

This particular night he had had beer on Sixth Street with a couple of friends, and was very mellow as he stopped at a light before getting onto the freeway. As he sat there waiting for the light he noticed a girl sitting on a bench by the old Santa Rita oil rig that was on the University of Texas campus. He thought she might be a coed, but something was off. She was short. She was unbelievably short, wearing jeans, with shoulder length hair. It was night, and she was wearing large sunglasses.  She didn’t have a backpack, or a purse, bag, nothing! Normally he’d look away, but something made him roll the window down.

“Waiting for a ride?” Why did he ask? Stupid! If she was a hooker he’d be soliciting, and if she was a coed he’d just look like some pervert trying to pick up a college student.  Still, he felt compelled to ask. He felt compelled to ask.

“I’ve been waiting here for you. You come this way every day.” Her answer was unique and he pushed on. This was decision point. She was cute, but appeared young. Run away perhaps.

“Ok, that’s different.  Look I can drop you off if it’s on my way, ok?” She calmly got up, and came to the car. She removed her sunglasses. She was wearing them at night, but Brad took that as believing she was on drugs, which was yet another reason he should have never rolled that window down. She had unusual eyes. Large. Not bug eyed, but large. She looked like one of those cartoon girls with the large button eyes, yet they were real. Usually these street urchins would have an agenda, or a deal, not this one. She looked him up and down and then just opened the door.

“Street kid. RUN!” Still, as if in a trance he watched as she sat down in his car. 

     What makes a man crazy enough to leap into a situation like this? “You have someplace to be dropped off?”

“No. I need to go home with you.”

“How old are you?”


His first instinct was to stop the car and put her out, but he didn’t. “Ok, I’ll buy that. But you are eighteen, aren’t you? Hey, you can spend the night on my couch, but in the morning we have to figure something out, ok?”

“Agreed. And yes, I’m greater than eighteen.”

Agreed? AGREED?  His mind was still racing. Five minutes ago he’d never seen this girl, now he had agreed? How many coeds had he seen driving down MLK, but he picked this one up.  He was wondering what was burning in his crazy mind. He drove to Ben White, cutting across to the Great Hills, eventually arriving at his condo. She had no possessions, only the clothes on her back. Leading her into his home he pointed to a couch, “You can sleep there.” She removed her shoes and sat on the couch.

He brought in some blankets. She took them and curled up on the couch. As she covered herself he caught a whiff of her body odor. She smelled  musky, and he thought he had her figured right.  Street girl, no shower for a week or so, but the odor was not a foul one, more like an incense.  No problem, a shower in the morning before he dropped her off. He went to his bedroom with tons of misgivings. He could just imagine waking in the morning and finding his wallet gone.  Not much sleep that night because every little noise woke him, but in the morning she was still there. Time to talk!

“So, where are you from?” Brad was scrambling eggs as she sat at the breakfast table in his kitchen.

“From here. I am from these coordinates.”

“But, you seem to have no place to go. Sitting near the UT campus with no money, no clothes, not anything.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“That would be refreshing. Please do,” Brad said as he sat her plate of eggs in front of her. She eyed the eggs.

“What is this?”

“Scrambled eggs. What are you, some kind of a vegetarian?”

She picked up a bit of the scrambled eggs with a fork and tasted it, “Disgusting! Give me that piece of fruit,” she pointed to an apple in a display bowl. “No, I’m an anthropologist. I specialize in linguistic study. I’m the head of my department, actually.”

“Well that makes a weird kind of sense, but you’re, like a doctor, a professor at UT, and you hanging out at the Santa Rita without bus fare? Too much party?”

“I didn’t say that I teach at that university, at least not as you know it. I am from another campus.”

“Ok, you just weirded me out. Look, baby, you’re tweeking from a long meth party, ok. Just come clean with me.”

“Ok, I am Doctor Kie-lieē Zun Lihua, University of Light . . .approximately twenty thousand years from now. I was sent here through a time vortex to study an issue in linguistics that we uncovered.”

“Ooooooo K,” Brad said, as he sat across from her.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Oh, sure, sure I believe you. Why I meet people from the future every day. Hey, now tell me straight. Too much party, just like I said. What you need to do is finish your breakfast, clean up, and I’ll drop you off anywhere you need on my way to work.”

“I am where I am supposed to be. I had to make an extensive study of you before I came here expressly for this eventuality. I positioned myself so you would see me. You are a creature of habit.  You have three business deals consummating, am I correct?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t prove anything. Public record.”

“Now hear me out,” she continued, “one of the deals, a Mr. Henderson, is one of them, am I right?”

“Baby, you’re still fishing, and that information is available at the closing company.”

“Well, this information isn’t available. Before the day is over you’re going to receive information that Mr. Henderson is canceling his purchase! And I’m not a baby, I really am eighty-eight years old.”

“Why?” Brad’s interest was peaked.
“Because his wife died this morning of a sudden heart attack, while you were sitting here eating these disgusting things,” she pushed the plate of eggs back at him. “Now, I have to wash. The vortex leaves a fine ash that smells. Please take me to your wash area.”

She slipped out of her jeans, removing her blouse and went to the shower. He waited in the living room, making phone calls to his office while he waited. He was convinced that she was a druggie or someone messing with his head. A few moments later she called out, “I need your assistance.”

He went to the bedroom asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t just stand out there, come here.”

He eased into the restroom, seeing her form behind the frosted glass. She was standing there, nude, with no water running. She opened the door and looked at him. “I don’t know how to acquire the water.”

He stood there staring at her. Perfection! No needle marks, no scars. All but the eyes, large and round. Not a strand of hair anywhere except her head. She looked at him for a moment, “Don’t just stand there like an idiot, I can’t find water!”

As if snapping out of a trance he leaned forward turning the valve, “Tell me when it’s comfortable.”


“You’ll need this,” he gave her a bar of soap.

Taking the bar, she sniffed at it, “Animal by-products. Chemicals too, but it will have to do.” She tasted the water, “Everything has chemicals. That is why you have a short life span.”
“But you’re eighty-eight? Why do you look like a teen age girl?”

As she scrubbed she told him, “My life force age is less than my chronological age. I’m healthier than you are. I don’t eat dead animals, nor do I normally wash in toilette water. I really am the age I told you.”

“Then what is your ‘life force age?”

“In your understanding I am sixteen at life force.”

Brad smiled. “I feel like a pervert standing here watching a sixteen year old take a shower.”

“I really am eighty-eight. Oh, you’re talking about sex. I don’t do that. I never have. We have other more reliable methods of procreation.”
He nodded, backing slowly away. She continued to wash, “Are you Ill?” she asked.


“Your face. It’s all flushed. You need to have your blood pressure examined. And quit staring like that. You disturb me!”

When she finished she came back into the living room. As she dried her hair, Brad sat on the love seat across from her. “Look, I don’t know your game, it’s been fun, but I really have to drop you off. I mean, I’m certainly not leaving you here alone . . ,” at that moment his cell phone rang.

“Yes, what, oh I’m so sorry. Of course, don’t think about that now. I’ll take care of it.”

Brad ended the call. “That was Henderson. His wife passed away about an hour ago. Poor old guy wanted to tell me he could not go forward with the closing.”

      Kie-lieē looked at Brad, “You forgot to tell him that you were sorry for his loss.”

“Tell me how you got here,” Brad asked.

“There is something called the vortex. All that you call time occurs simultaneously, and we move through the array experiencing it as we travel. Right now all that you were, are, will be, already is, and you are actually a time traveler traveling at a normal pace through the array. What you perceive as time is actually a series of slices of existence.  You experience it from your position, and I from mine.”

“Then I could theoretically go forward in time and see future events?”

“No.  When you go back, you do not regress.  You cannot undo what is, however, whenever you go forward you progress, and whatever age affects that the normal vortex, or array would have on you still occurs, only at an accelerated rate.”

“Oh.  Do you like, step into a machine?”

“No, The time/space vortex already exists.  You are in it right now, only you are traveling at a normal rate. Experiencing your view from your position. When focused, which is what we do, you advance the rate, and can travel to different parts of the time/space array, and when you slow down to the normal rate, well, there you are, or rather, here I am.”

“But I can’t go to your time?”

“No, you’d arrive as an artifact. If you die, and are buried, and I dig you up in my time you will look like a fossil, if you get that lucky.  If you vortex forward that same fossil will arrive on the other end.”

“Why doesn’t it work in reverse?”

“Because I can’t be changed going back beyond the time where I actually existed. Going back to my birth I’m experiencing the vortex that I’ve already traveled through, however, if I try to go forward from my existence then the vortex exerts the changes that it was programmed to change, and I, too, will age rapidly, though not as rapidly as you because your health is a chemically wasted wreck.”

“When did we develop this?”

“Actually, it was developed in your era.  A boy was sent in reverse back one hundred and ten years from your time, and he was actually photographed at an event one hundred years before his birth.  It was in one of your museums, but no one noticed. Then the scientists made an error and the project was discontinued, however the research remained and it was developed later.”

“What kind of error.”

“They tried to send him forward to my time. That’s what got our interest and that’s why I’m here.”

“What are you studying?”

“I’m an linguist. I study language.  There are discrepancies in our cultures. I’m trying to figure out why.”

“What discrepancies?”

“I can’t tell you that.”


“Because if I give you too much information you may try to change the future.”

“But you told me about Henderson’s wife.”

“I told you that because you did not have time to change the future.  I used that to prove to you who I was. If you remember, you didn’t believe me in the first place.  I had to convince you.  That was the method I used to do it.”

“So, when you find what you’re looking for you just step into his ‘vortex’ and zip back to your time.”

“Yes, that’s about it.”

“But won’t you be changing time?”

“I will be understanding the past, not trying to change the future. What you need to understand is in addition to our time/space vortex there are others.  There are many vortexes running right along side of each other.  What you do not want to do is disturb the natural progression of any individual vortex.  That’s why I can’t GIVE you information but I can TAKE information from you.”

At the Board of Realtors

“I’m going to take you somewhere tonight.  I have to go to a Board of Realtors meeting and I think you might need some air,” Brad announced to Kie-lieē.

“My eyes.  They will see my eyes.”

He handed her some large sunglasses, “Just wear these.  Your eyes aren’t that weird, but these should do it.”

She put on the sunglasses. Indeed they covered her eyes, and she looked good in them. “Also, I brought you this,” he opened a box and handed her a dress, shoes, under garments and a blouse.

Staring at the items she looked up at him, “You’ll have to show me.”

“How did I know that was coming?  Ok, take your clothes off.” She stripped very quickly and he handed her the undergarments.  The panties she figured out but the bra had her perplexed. He pointed to her chest, “For those.”

Looking down at her breasts, “Why?”

“Because women here wear that.  It helps hold them up.”

Looking down again she said, “Mine hold up all by themselves.”

“Look, I don’t know, I just know that we will be in a very sophisticated group and if those,” he pointed to her breasts, “go sticking out it won’t be a good thing.”

“Help me,” she said, “I don’t know how to wear it.

He helped her put on the bra and the other garments.  She did appear stunning, though a bit small.  Still, she was beautiful in a childish way, although he was well aware of her age.
“There, you look very good!”

She felt around at all the new garments, “Does it usually take so long to put that thing on my chest?”

“Why no, why?”

“Well, everything else went on easily,  but you seemed to have some issue with positioning that.  I was just asking.”

Driving along the Heart of Texas loop he instructed her. “Just be nice, blend in, it’s no big deal.  Have you been watching TV like I told you, picking up on the language?”

“Oh, yes!  I’ve been watching a good amount of it and learning the ethnicity of this era, and I think I have the terms down, shall I show you?”

“No, just talk normal, like you see on TV and don’t mix it up too much.  Just answer questions when asked, but keep it general, ok? You tend to sound like ‘Bones.”


“Yeah, she’s an anthropologist like you, but she’s very dry and talks over people’s heads. Mix it up, be friendly but keep it very plain, ok?”

“Rodger, Wilco!”  He smiled at her sudden slang, convinced that she was indeed learning a lot about language.

They arrived at the dinner and she ate vegetables, which only made her seem more “Austin” so Brad didn’t say anything.  After dinner a group formed on the balcony.  This particular building was a clubhouse for a large condominium complex with outdoor waterfalls and walks.  Offered a wine, she accepted, and although making a small face she finished it, and then another, and then another.  Soon she was sitting on a stool with her hair slightly messed up talking with the woman who was the current president of the Austin Board of Realtors.

“So, my dear,” the socialite said, “You’re staying with Brad?”

“Not really staying there, just kind of hanging on.”

Brad quickly interjected, “Out. . . she’s hanging out.”

“Yeah,” Kie-lieē returned, “I’m hanging out.”

As Kie-lieē gulped down another wine, making four by  now, she felt she had mastered this new experience, and, the older lady asked, “So what brought you to Austin?”

Kie-lie searched her mind for a response wanting to appear to be in sync with the questions this woman was asking.  She certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. Remembering a line from a movie she calmly responded, “I’m just in town to fuck around.”

Brad couldn’t fix this one so he tried to appear to apologize, “I’m terribly sorry.  The wine, she’s not used to the wine.”

The older lady was slightly amused, actually, at Kie-lie’s obvious inebriation, but before any more could be said,  Kie-lie picked up on her amusement, and recalling another scene from yet another movie asked, “What’s up with you, bitch?”

“Brad hastily said, “Ok, that’s enough, we need to cool it, hon.”

By this time the little scientist with the big eyes was on a roll, totally convinced that she was the life of the party because the older lady was now laughing out loud. Making a two fingered gangsta sign with both hands she said, “You got a problem wid dat?”

“We have to go,” and Brad took her glass and led his short guest staggering out of the building and to the car.

“What the hell was that?”

She looked at him confused. “What’s up with you, my nigga?  I thought you was my home run?”

“That’s homeBOY, homeboy!” Brad started laughing and looked at her.  She really thought she was blending in.  “No big deal.  I’ll teach you the difference.  She just thought you were drunk.”

“What’s ‘drunk?”

“What comes right before ‘hangover.”

“Hangover?”  At this she gently laid her head against the window and passed out. By the time they got back to his condo Brad had to carry her in, for the wine had won the battle with the little anthropologist from the future. Removing her clothes he laid her in her bed. After he drew the blanket over her he stared for the longest time. With eyes closed she appeared totally normal. He knew she would be hung over in the morning. Her face was that of a child. He put his lips to his forefinger and gently touched her lips with it. Her lips fastened around his finger and she began a sucking motion like a baby with a bottle.

“Well, maybe there’s hope for you  yet, he whispered, and turned the light off as he left.

At the Pot Party

Brad made some chili and dipped up a bowl for them.

“What is it?” She eyed the brown substance.

“It’s called chili.  Oh, my bad, you’re obviously a vegetarian, right?”

Picking up the spoon Kie-Lieē stirred the chili, “I have never eaten this, but I need to learn all things about your culture.  It is animal parts, correct?”

“Yeah, beef, but it’s got spices in it, too.”

She readied herself and took a spoon of the food.  Putting it into her mouth she made a face, but to his surprise she swallowed.  She gingerly ate about ten more bites, finally saying, “There!  I’ve done it!”

“You like?”

“The flavor is interesting, but I can’t help but remember where it comes from.”

“I understand.  Actually, that’s not as far out in left field as it seems.  Here in Austin we have many like you that will not eat meat.”

“Eating the food that I eat,” she said, “we tend to live longer.”

As Brad mixed more crackers into his food he asked her, “Why do you think we have wisdom teeth?”

She looked confused, “What are those?”

“Huge molars in the back of your mouth, meant to tear meat.”

She grinned, “In YOUR mouth, not mine.  Those went away long ago for me.” She then opened her mouth and showed him her teeth.  Noticeably smaller than his, and indeed, no large molars! “You see, small teeth for a gentle meal.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but did you like the chili?”

“It was . . . different.”

He got up and went to the refrigerator; bringing back some ice cream he dipped two bowls. “Ok, this is an ‘animal’ product, as you call it, but it’s just milk and sugar and cold.  See if you like this.”

She took a bite and her face lit up. “Good!  I do, I do like this.  So cool, so sweet.  Yes, this is good. Milk?”

“From cows.  They don’t die to get it.  Helps you keep your figure too ‘cause it’s two percent.”

        She finished her ice cream.

After dinner they went to the deck in the rear of the house. From his condo Brad had a view of downtown Austin. He was well situated in the Great Hills area and his particular spot afforded a beautiful view of the city with all the glimmering lights, the Capitol, and the University of Texas. He and Kie-lieē sat in lawn chairs at a large glass table. Brad pulled a Baggie from his coat and unwrapped it in the table.

“What’s that,” she asked, reaching over to pick it up.

“Easy, let me do this,” he said.

“What is it?”


She stirred the herb with her finger, retrieving a bit and tasting it. “I don’t understand. A pot, as you call it, is for cooking.”

He smiled and rolled a joint, “No, ‘pot’ is just a term. This is, uh, like medicine. It makes you relax. It is called marijuana.”

She spit the tiny bit out, “It’s bitter. Not very succulent.”

He lit the joint, “Like this.” He drew in a bit, held it and let it out.

She studied him for a moment. He handed the cigarette to her, “Now you try it.” She took the joint and looked at it. “Do like I did. Take some into your mouth and ease it into your lungs. You do have lungs, right?”

“Well of course I do. I’m as human as you are, maybe a little bit more.”

“I didn’t know. You seemed to have done away with everything else. I figured you just absorbed oxygen through your skin or something. By the way, how’s your head?    She gave him a first class “go to hell” look and she slowly drew a bit of smoke into her mouth, but blew it right out. “No, you have to inhale it.” Again she drew in some, and tried to take it in, which only resulted in a coughing fit. “Ain’t choking you ain’t smoking.”

When she finally regained her composure she said, “Why would you want to do such a thing?”

“Well, it has its moments.” He took the joint and drew a bit into his mouth. Leaning over to her he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers. She kept her mouth tightly closed, so he drew back, inhaled the puff and said, “You have to open your mouth. You said you wanted to learn everything, didn’t you?”

Slowly she nodded her head. “What do you intend to do to me tonight?”

“One step at a time. Let’s get this down first. I’m not going to hurt you, ok?” She nodded her head. Again, he drew in a bit of smoke. pulling her close and he put his lips to hers, only this time she opened her mouth, and to his surprise, took all the smoke in, inhaling it. “Now, just hold it there.” She did as instructed, finally exhaling.

“What now?” she asked.

“Just wait. How do you feel?”

She looked around a bit and then back at him, “Nothing.” After a minute she settled into her chair and became very quiet. Again he drew her close and let her have another puff. He had a little twinge of guilt, polluting this pure little person, but then a glow came over her, “Let me see that,” and she took the joint from him. Expertly, she took a puff all the way down. When he tried to retrieve it she greedily pulled it back, causing him to laugh.

“How do you feel now?”

“My perception has been enhanced.” Her large eyes began to change with the effects of the drug. It was just then that he noticed she had not one but two ways of blinking. One, just like him, was with eyelids, but about every third blink a membrane would come from the corner of her eyes and quickly wipe them and retreat back to the corner. He became strangely excited with the realization that she was, after all, just a woman, and was reacting just as any UT coed would given the same set of circumstances. He moved closer to her, and putting his arms around her, he drew her close and pressed his lips to hers only to have her push him away, “I don’t have any smoke for you,” she said.

“Not necessary for this part,” and again he kissed her. Dutifully she opened her mouth and he kissed her for a long time, her tongue responding to his in a very knowledgeable manner. She put the joint down and put her arms around him.

“How do you feel now?”

She sat back in her chair. He looked into her eyes. The transparent eyelids flicked several times. There was a nonverbal communication between them, and she had shifted from anthropologist to total submission in one easy step. She slowly looked down at her feet, and like a little girl she said very quietly, “I think I know what ‘fuck around’ means now. Do you want to explore me?”

“Yea, very much.”

She straightaway began to remove her clothes, but he stopped her. “No, inside.”

      He took her gently by the hands, and she followed him into the condo like an obedient puppy.

At the Kitchen

Kie-leē moved freely around the house during the day while Brad was at work. The previous night had been interesting, introducing her to chili and topping off the night with ice cream, and a personal experience. As the day wore on she found the TV some diversion, and used the shows to sharpen her linguistic abilities a bit.  Brad had now instructed her on which shows to watch. She had no social contacts so her day was within the condo with very little interaction outside.  Indeed, she had to keep her sunglasses on lest someone see her eyes, which while not being so large that she appeared alien, might draw attention to her in some way and due to her assignment her secrecy had to be maintained.

Still, she was becoming domesticated in some ways.  Deep within her DNA was a woman and that woman Brad had awakened felt a need to please him in some way.  After the joint he had led her into a world of experiences that had taxed her intellect, and awakened something inside of her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but he had put a finger on it just fine, and that both disturbed, and excited her. She remembered the previous night and found the left over chili in the refrigerator.  After much effort she got it into a sauce pan and got the range to ignite.  Stirring it, without tasting, she warmed it.  Then, fetching the ice cream she continued with the dinner.  Brad came home about five thirty. “I made food!” she announced with some pride. As he walked through his living area he noticed his mail sitting on the coffee table.

“You went for the mail?” he asked.

“Of course. I’ve seen you go there, and you keep the keys on that little box on the kitchen wall.”

“You figured that out?”

“Look,” she said, with a stern look, “my intellect far surpasses yours.  In fact, there is not a way to even measure it in your time.  I have a superior understanding of your culture. There is nothing in your culture that I can’t understand, or find a solution for.  That’s what I do.  That’s why I’m here.  I am a DOCTOR! Opening a primitive box, and retrieving some letters is child’s play for me.  I could have probably gotten into that box without your silly, primitive key.”

As he looked at the mail he said, “Oh, my bad.  I forget those things.”

“Oh,” she continued, “that man, you know, the one who rides the motor thing, the man with the beard?

Yeah, what about him?”

“Well, he talked to me when I picked up your mail.  I think he’s looking for work.”

“What makes you think that?

“Well, he asked me if I could give him a ‘blow job” and I told him I was from out of town and didn’t have one, but that you were very influential,  and you could probably give him one. Now, where were we?”

“We were talking about your superior understanding of my culture.”

She led him onto the porch and true to her word two plates were set up, each with a light brown substance on them.

“What is it?” he asked.

“What you like.”

He tasted it. It was chili, but had a different slant to it. “How did you make this?” Being very aware that she was very different from anyone he’d ever known he had no idea of how she’d made the dinner.

“Well, you liked the meat last night, am I correct in that?”


“And you like the mild frozen product?”


“I put them together.  Your two favorite things in one serving.”

Brad actually saw this a a kind of breakthrough and didn’t want to dissuade her, but he wanted to explain, “We generally eat the chili first, then the ice cream.”


“Well, it tastes better that way.”

“Actually, I thought the cream took the edge off of the animal ingredient, myself.” At this point she had mostly finished her dish.  Brad watched in amazement as she licked her fingers, and finally her tongue came out, sufficiently long enough to clean most of her face.

“Wow!  Miley Cyrus would die for that tongue!”

“Now what’s wrong with my tongue?”

“Why, nothing, nothing at all, except, like your eyes it’s a little large.”

“I dodge exposing myself to that chemical waste you call a shower.  Whenever I can I clean myself.”

“All over?”

“Whenever possible, yes.”

Brad gave a sheepish grin, “With those little teeth, and that tongue, you could be very, well, entertaining.” He traced her lips with his forefinger. “I’ll explain what the man with the beard was asking you later.”

“You really are a very simple, ape-like creature, but you know that, right?”

He looked into the big eyes and said, “Well, in that case, I suppose you have a point, but while we’re on the subject, what did you think about last night?”

“What part?

“The part where we went into the house after we smoked?”

She stirred what was left of her chili/ice cream pie, “I allowed you to explore me.”

“That’s it?  That’s all you thought?”

“What more is there? I gave you permission.”

“Did you like it, did I hurt you?”

“You did hurt me some when you explored me.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, I’m here to learn.  Your customs are not my customs.”

“Did you like it?”

She looked down and whispered “I liked it very much.” He reached out to hold her hand, but she pulled it back and continued to eat.

“Oh, little professor has a case of the guilties?”

“I call them reflections, conclusions, yes, I do. That is my assignment.  If you’re asking me if I had pleasure, yes, I did.  It was. . . intriguing. If you’re asking me if I understand that right now, no, I do not.  You did something to me in which I have no training.  Not only that, no one I know has any experience with it.  I can’t tell you why my body responded such as it did, but that’s what I’m here for.  Apparently I have some neurotransmitters that I have not accounted for, but these are the answers I was sent to identify, but I was in control last night, not you.  You are nothing more than a lab rat. You had to do that to me, and I had to experience it.  Now, may I feed myself without you trying to feed your ego?” She licked  her eyes.

She stared straight into his eyes and he said, “You do have tear ducts, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You know it was unusual that you didn’t say, ‘Oh, God,’ or something,” he said



“Yeah. Hey, you got into it, ok? For all your neurotransmitters you picked up the pace pretty good.  But all I heard was a bunch of pops and clicks”

“That’s my native language. Ok, I’ll admit it. I lost myself for a moment and what I was doing was speaking in my native tongue. What is God?”

“God is the creator of the universe. You know,” he pointed up, “GOD.”

“Oh. What do you think about people dressed in animal skins dancing around a fire screaming up into the air?”

“I’d think they were primitive, ignorant, things like that.”

“Well, that’s what I think about you when you talk about invisible people in the air creating universes.”

“You weren’t thinking about me like that last night. I didn’t think those eyes could get any bigger. And as far as ego, what’s driving your anger right now? Little anthropologist from 22,013 can’t admit she’s a woman?”

She was at a loss for words. Her face was turning red. She looked down at her food and he heard a series of pops and clicks.  She was, for the first time in her life, facing emotions, and her own femininity. He took a bite and said, “English please, and I know what you’re thinking but you don’t have a word for it for all those pops and clicks. Just say, ‘MEN!”

“Men,” she said quietly.

“No, MEN! Shout it.”

“MEN!” she said it louder.


At this point she grasped the concept and shouted, “MEEEEEEN!” She clenched her fists and glared at him. “You TOUCHED me! Here!” She pointed to her head.  Her eyes were red, lips quivering, “You touched me! I’ve never been touched.”

“Feel better now?”

Suddenly speaking in a very civilized tone she said, “Yes, thank you. You don’t really wear animal skins do you?”

At Sixth Street

After a bit Brad decided to take a chance and take Kie-lieē out again. It would be a dinner on Sixth Street, and he figured no one would even notice her there. The evening went well. She had decided that if she must eat meat seafood was a good choice. She had her lobster and Brad had a steak. She was actually a good date. They had absolutely nothing in common but got along quite well. Her sterile attitude was beginning to abate and she lightened up.

On the way back to the car they had to circle behind the cafes and bars and at one point were in a very dark area. A man stepped out from the shadows. “Just give me the money and we ain’t got no problem.” Brad noticed the man had a gun and pulled his wallet right away.

“We don’t want any trouble buddy, here.”

The criminal took the wallet and looking at Kie-lieē he asked, “Where’s your shit, bitch?”

“She doesn’t carry any money,” Brad said, “she’s from out of town.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Walking closer he told Brad, “You just run along college boy. She has one thing I want. How old are you, baby, bout, fifteen?”

Before Kie-lieē could answer Brad interrupted again, “Yes, she’s sixteen. . .” but the man hit him with the gun, sending him sprawling on the pavement.  “How that work out for you, bitch,” the hoodlum said, as Brad fought for consciousness. Then he turned to Kie-lieē again. “You boy friend’s a perv little girl but I don’t care, you look real, sweet.”

Kie-lieē motioned to him,” Come closer.”

The man eased closer, “Oh, you gonna give it up? Lot easier than getting hurt, huh? I’ll do you more good then him.”

“Closer,” and as the man neared her she put, her arms around him, pushing her body right up against him.

Looking down at Brad he said, “Hey pervert, watch how a real man pops this puppy’s can!”
She put her mouth to his ear, gently licking it, and softly said, “You cannot breathe.”

The man backed away, gave a slight chuckle, but the reaction quickly turned on him and reaching for his throat, he dropped his gun he lost strength rapidly. As he fell to his knees he looked at her with horror. Kie-lieē calmly watched him collapse onto the pavement thrashing and kicking, and then she helped Brad to his feet and led him toward a well-lighted area. As she walked past the robber she looked down and said, “How’d that work out for YOU, bitch?” From there she led Brad around the corner.

“What about him?” Brad asked her as the man thrashed on the ground.

“Oh, yes,” and peering back around the corner she said, “Hey bitch! You can breathe again now.”

Back in the condo with Kie-lieē cleaning his wound Brad asked,” How’d you do that?”

“The power of suggestion is great. My mind is greatly evolved. I simply told him not to breathe and he did as he was told.”

“That was it?”

“As easy as you getting a dog to fetch a stick.”

“Then you were in control that first night?”

“Some dogs fetch some sticks, some fetch others,” and she continued to dress his wound. “I have been in control from the first moment you saw me.”


She looked at him almost in fear, and, looking down, said, “Yes, everything.” Then, looking at the lights of the city shimmering in the distance her mood became dark. “I have concluded my assignment.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“No. It’s something I have to report  to my department. Between us, not you.” She licked a tear from her eye.

At Lake Travis

The evening was cool and clear.  They sat on the balcony for a long time.

“You have to go back?”

“Yes,” Kia-Leē said. “My research is finished.  I have found the answers I came here for.”

“What are those answers?”

She grinned, “Those questions are for me to know.  They are not pertinent to this conversation.”

“Ever so cool.  You come into my life and now just leave.”

She leaned forward and touched his hand, “I found my answer.  You helped.  You’ve helped a lot of people. I didn’t ‘come’ into your life. I chose you for the project, nothing more, nothing less.”

“What about us?”

She genuinely looked perplexed,  “Us?”

Brad knew he was up against a wall.  Try as he might he could not peer behind those huge eyes. “I suppose there is no ‘us.’’

“You don’t want me to go, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve gotten kinda used to you.”

“Well, I must go back.  I have specific research information that is important to my group.”

“Any chance of me going with you?”

“That’s not the way the vortex works.  You can go into the past from your position in the time-space continuum, but not forward.  I am frozen at my age when I go back, but if you were to go forward with me the twenty thousand years to my home, by the time we got there you would be an artifact on a museum table, and not a very good one at that, mainly dust and bone.” She looked into his eyes, “I have some of my understanding now, but more questions than I came here with, and frankly, those questions have disturbed me.”


“Tomorrow morning. The vortex will open, I will step in, and only my flesh may go.  It would kill you.” Looking at his eyes she said, “You have tear ducts, too, don’t you?”

“Yes, I supposed I do.”

The next day Brad drove Kia-Leē to a secluded place near Lake Travis. “It’s so beautiful here,” she said.

“One more memory.”

Completely out of character, she took his hand and led him into a field. “It’ll be over there.  You must stand here.  Please don’t come any closer.  If you get into the vortex it will transport you.  You don’t want to see what waits on the other side, indeed you will not see it for you’ll be dead long before you get there.”

They stood there for the longest time.  Then, impulsively she leaned forward and kissed him, “I found my answer.”

“What was the question?”

After much consideration she told him, “We lost something.  We came upon an equation that we could not complete, what you call a ‘wild card.’ I was sent to find an explanation for this, and we didn’t even have a word for it. I found it, and I think I understand it now.  I have to try to explain it to my group.” She began to back away from him.  “It is a form of wonderful madness. You drove me mad, Brad, but when I came through, the answer was there, and I have to explain it to my department.”

The air behind her seemed to ripple and she hesitated before she got to the ripple. “We had to find the explanation for that one thing.”


She pursed her lips, “Love. We didn’t understand what the emotion ‘love’ was.  I had to see it first hand to explain it. I began to perceive changes in my mind, and body, my entire chemical makeup.” Then, touching her belly she said, “And, I guess, in one way, you are returning with me.”

For a moment their eyes met, and she mouthed, “Love.”

At that Kia-Leē stepped back into the shimmering light, and faded from view.

Brad stood there with the emptiest feeling he’d ever had in his life.  As he watched, the shimmer dissipated, and he was alone.  So very alone.  “And I guess, in one way, you left a bit of you with me, also.  He turned and walked back to his car.

Back  at the Santa Ria

Several days later Brad was driving home through downtown Austin. Making his usual turn onto MLK, he headed for the freeway. Memories flooded back as he stopped at the light near the he old oil rig monument. He tried to avoid looking at the bench beside the rig, but try as he might he could not look away.

To his amazement, a  girl was sitting right there, wearing sunglasses, even though it was night. She sat motionless, looking right at him. As in a whirl of déjà vu, he rolled the window down. “I suppose you need a ride?”

The girl calmly got up, walked over, got into his car. Taking her sunglasses off, she looked at him with large, lovely, blue eyes and said, “I’m Pari-Tari. I teach linguistics.  Doctor Kie-lieē sent me to this assignment. She said you would help. She said to tell you I’m in town to . . . “

Sent from my iPad

A Place Called Camelot

There once was a place called Camelot. . .


In this place all things were possible. There were jobs, and cars, and washing machines, and TV sets that could receive three channels on a clear day. Walt Disney still had Annette under contract, and she was perfect. And there was this man in the White House.


It took all four Beatles to replace John F. Kennedy. His wife looked like a movie star, and his kids did, too. As a ten-year-old, I could mimic his Boston accent, and my father’s friends would laugh their heads off at parties. “Aye, John Eeeeef Kennedddddy . . . ” He’d begin with that line, and go on to put the wood to that fat guy in Russia, or that Mexican who was running Cuba, or anybody else who thought they could stand up to America.


I had no idea where Boston was, or what a Democrat was, or even what a communist was, but I KNEW, John F. Kennedy was my president. When we ate supper I would imagine him dropping by, I could just see it, because that was the kind of guy he was in my young mind. It was a grand illusion.


America was slipping into decline, but we were so poor we couldn’t tell. Dimes actually looked bigger if you grew up in Texas. The lights never went off in our house, but the bill was only, like, eight dollars or so. I think water might have been free, I don’t know. But I knew who the president was, and I knew that when I grew up, everything was going to be alright.


There is a fact among people of my generation. We all remember exactly where we were when we heard about the events in Dallas. I had been to the nurse at Nolan Jr. High, and she sent me back to class. As I rounded the corner by the cafeteria, heading down the west hallway, about three classrooms down, the intercom came on, and America died that day. The grand illusion evaporated like a Penn and Teller magic show. They turned us out, and we all went home. When i got home my parents were acting like Hank Williams just died. I sat at the dinner table that night, and I cried. I still remember. We had liver and onions.


Then came Johnson, and Vietnam, Nixon, Charles Manson, the Twin Towers, and Waco! We all struggle to endure the smell of the rotting corpse America had become. The country didn’t just suddenly run off the rails. That train had been swerving for a long time, but somehow, President Kennedy made us believe that his hand was on the wheel, and it was all gonna be alright.


Last night I was up researching the tragic event in Waco this week. I ended by looking at a picture of a dead biker, resting beside his Harley. He looked so serene, lying there in his Sunday jeans, and his magnificent colors still on. And for some reason President Kennedy came to mind. And again, I cried. I cried for the biker, I cried for President Kennedy, and I cried for America. America is lost, but we in the Texas movement are going to find it again, and we’re going to give it back to you! We owe President Kennedy that much.


There are historians, and political analysts who point out his flaws. I know all about Marilyn Monroe, and Joe Kennedy being a bootlegger, I don’t care! I still can’t erase the image of that hallway at Nolan Jr. High that was burned into my brain on November 22, 1963. As I approached that junction in that hallway that day I was walking in John F. Kennedy’s America. By the time the speaker went silent, I was standing in TEXAS!


There once was a place called Camelot . . .



A Different World

IMG_2220I remember a world that was far different from the world I woke up in this morning. I remember parades in every town great or small, and not just Christmas, or New Year’s Day. I remember the flag being waved, not stomped. I remember a time, a time when the expression, “Write your congressman” wasn’t the worn out punch line to a tired old joke. I remember a man who would never turn his back on the need to defend his country against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and those who swore that oath forswore themselves. And I was that man. I wrote an article, not long ago, No Taxation Without Representation, that got me to wondering. Did I have the courage to do a thing that was once patriotic, but now illegal? Indeed, there were times when people had to make the choice to do something that is patriotic and illegal. It has been a terrible few weeks because the more I thought about it, the more I see how our government has been closing off all the rational approaches to patriotism. I produce media that I hope will arouse others to patriotism, but up until today I’ve been unable to honestly say where the line between talk and action is.  A time where the love of country is considered lies! What happened is I woke up today, and I didn’t know that it would be a day much different than those days that have come to represent how different the world has become. I rose, I prayed, I drank coffee as I checked the News Feeds, and my email. I shaved, bathed and dressed, and finally I offered up an extra prayer, as I often do on those days when I find myself among such people of our still great nation, who still have enough red blood in them to meet unbidden to discuss freedom. What made today different is that I saw someone different than most of us. Someone who does not wonder what they will do for their country, and for our freedom, even if we don’t celebrate their sacrifice. A true heroine, not in uniform, not strong of limb or a leader of troops, but rather a little girl. Small in stature, but with the courage of a child raised to believe that she is as good as anyone, and the conviction of a child wrongly orphaned. A few precious moments with her restored me to that time I thought long gone. It wasn’t such a different world after all.  Back when we were all in this thing together. I’ll say no more, for what else is there to say? I saw a little girl today. A girl whose father was cut down on national television in front of all of us, yet whose voice has not been stilled! If you, too, what has become of your world, indeed, of your own lives and spirits, if you do not like this different world in which we live, join me in supporting that little girl!


IMG_0043Slingvote. Remember that, there’ll be a quiz later. Texas Nationalists have long held to the idea that somewhere in the agreement that brought Texas in to the Union there was some kind of pre-nuptial agreement that provides an easy exit should Texas ever decide to go it on its own. I, myself have spoken of this many times. Well, truth be known, while that was discussed back then, it was never formalized in writing.

You see, the whole Texas plan from day one was to rip the territory away from Mexico and join the United States. There was never any doubt what the filibusters were doing down here, and the Republic formed after San Jacinto was almost with the understanding that the Republic of Texas would someday be the State of Texas, and Mexico could just suck it up. When the treaty between Texas and The United States was signed, however, there was no “divorce” clause. I know! I tried to find it today to quote here, and nada!

There is, however, a slippery little way for Texas to put it to the US, and make them think it’s their idea. Texas was go gosh darn big that it was decided that should the citizens therein ever decide to break it up that they could split into as many as five different states. Just like that! It’s part of the deal, folks, check it out. These would be along regional lines, i.e. East Texas, West Texas, North Texas, South Texas, and, of course, an area I like to call Costa Royal. (That would be the Texas “SoCal.”) These divisions of the Lone Star State would be separate, yet still the heritage of old time Tejas. These fellas have met!

Don’t you wanna know what happens next? Why, what was formally Texas gets eight more senators, that’s what! What was formerly Texas has ten senators up in Washington, and boys and girls, they’ll probably vote in a block. Some folks call this a slingvote, some call it gerrymandering, I call it a slingvote, um hum! Want to know how votes work? Well, sometimes things get crazy, and all the senators gravitate toward a foregone conclusion, but most of the time the vote is close, so close that the president starts twisting arms just to get one or two senators to go his way. There was this guy back in the day who commanded a huge slot of voters. He was  very into prohibition. He had this theory. He didn’t have to get fifty-one percent of any vote. He just had to control that ten percent of loyal followers who’d vote any way he told them to. This was guaranteed to swing just about any vote in any election anywhere, and by golly that’s exactly what he did! Using this idea he unseated governors, congressmen, senators, and dog catchers any time he wished. He just tell them there tea-totalers what box to mark and “God’s” will would be done. That’s how we got prohibition.

So, you end up with ten Texas senators where two used to be. When they cast their votes the board just met. The tail would officially wag the dog, and since American liberals and conservatives can’t even agree on which restrooms to use we’ll tell ‘em all to squat!. Heeere’s your sign. If we ever start moving in that direction the Nortes will squat, and lose their selective ca ca. Even New York and California will be our, well, just think of a slang term for a female dog. Some folks call it a slingvote, some call it gerrymandering, I call it a slingvote, um hum! Secession? We won’t have to secede, they’ll secede from us!

The Onion

From the death of Lavoy Finicum to little boys knocking on the door expecting a deceased father to answer, it has been a rocking year. We saw Donald Trump travel from amusing to not so much, and Republicans dropping out of the race faster than you can get a Big Mac at lunch. We discussed how America has failed some of us, and lied to all of us, and the combination of the articles began to peel like an onion when you step back, and begin to take it all in. The Onion began with nobody wanting to die and progressed from Oregon to Texas.

Burns, Oregon was still going during the next week, and I did a little bit of research on one Porter Rockwell. There are dots here, but you really gotta connect ‘em. I did this fairly well. It ended sadly when we lost good friend, and patriot, Johnny Johnson toward the beginning of the week.

Then I jumped on Beyonce in the third week. Dancing KKK and David Koresh. I don’t make it easy on myself, I’ll tell you. I talked about getting drunk, and pale horses, complete with graphs.

In the next week I turned to history as my grandchildren went to San Antonio, and fought the battle of the “Alamode.” We lost a judge, which was. . . special, and long about this time “The Donald” began to show some real numbers.

The fifth week led us back into the discussion of abortion, which is quite black and white, mainly black because that’s who Planned Parenthood is wiping out. My slippery friend, Teddy Bear, uncovered the Trump Machine setting up the south for a sweep, and by golly, that’s what happened. Just me and Rush, folks. Then I went looking for the fabled forty acres and a mule and wound up quoting Rubio’s silly “real estate deal” statement from the debates.

The following week saw David Duke crawl out from under his rock, a discussion about hand sizes, and a rather unscholarly poke at Ted Cruz. Then, trying for a spot on Animal Planet, I discussed the Jackalope.

Wound up in Utah, and arrived just in time for their primary. This was a two-week catchup because I’d been looking for a cup of coffee. Since I was right in the middle of it, I wrote a lot about guns, Finicum, and gun control.

Trump, no knock, and BS. Yep, that just about sums up the week here. I was so rolled up in Utah it was amazing that I could type at all, but I did.

This brings us down to the next week or so. Jesus in a cowboy hat, to Lin Ching in one of those funny cone shaped hats, the last week saw something called “Scared” which I’m told got a lot of attention. I didn’t think much of it, but then, who am I?

I think is along about this time that I caught religion and started expounding the Mormons in Utah. I had to eventually get off that and just come home to Texas, and upon returning the place was still there, and still leaving the US,

IMG_2955You have to understand that the organization of the articles are all there, maybe a little mixed at times. I drew the weekly reports on the fly, and sometimes they get a bit much to keep up with it all, but, if you peel the onion here you will find a little book of recent history with commentary, brought to you free, by Bill the Butcher.

I Believe


I believe that no government may stand between the individual freedoms allotted by God, bringing society down to the detriment of man.

I believe in freedom of speech, in all it understanding, and no matter what I have to say if you disagree with me that same freedom of speech will be your defense, and no religion or organization shall disrupt this.

I believe in freedom of religion. Religion shall be the personal choice of each person. The laws of the Republic of Texas shall be the will of all the people, and rise above any religious creed, or any religious sect attempting to impose its will upon the state, and if such an organization does this, to set upon the government, or the people, then that religion shall be banned from the Republic, for such religion is not religion, but a political system, and there is room for only one political system in the Republic of Texas!

To attempt to replace the laws of the Republic in such a manner will be considered to be an act of treason, and will be addressed accordingly. This is not to suggest that an individual’s own moral compass cannot guide the debate on what should be law, but once that law is set by ratification of the people it shall not be deposed by any minority seeking to impose its will upon the people.

I believe in the right of every person to be safe, and secure in their person, home, and effects no matter what fancy words come out of someone’s mouth putting qualifications on it. Private property is the foundation of the republic, and each free person owns the Republic by the virtue of that right. No tax of any kind shall be imposed on the private ownership of property. Any attempt to intervene in the private ownership of property shall be considered to be an attack upon the Republic itself in that the people are the Republic, and an attack on any person will be considered to be an attack on the entire Republic.

I believe in the family, as defined in the Bible; in the right of the children to wake up in their own bed in the morning. Any person, in any capacity, who attempts to destroy the sanctity of the family will be charged, and judged accordingly. This included judges, lawyers, state agencies, anyone who attempts to destroy the family. There shall be no compensation to any person for the transference of a child to any state agency other than food, clothing, and shelter to be directly used for disadvantaged children. Children shall only be removed by charged brought in a criminal court, and all family courts should be abolished.

I believe in the right of every person to earn his living, and to contribute what is reasonable to the nation for the common good. There should be no graduating scale for taxation based on the earnings of any person, and there should be a fixed rate only money spent after earning and there should be no exemptions on an entity, individual or corporate, and the rate of taxation should be equal for all. This includes religious organizations, all organizations. As they spend the tax will be the same as any other entity. This is so to make taxation a duty, and not a burden.

I believe in the right of a person to represent himself in a court of law. To put restrictions on this right is to suspend freedom of speech. Judges may be appointed to arbitrate or enforce civil conduct, but all people should be heard, and lawyers will stand equal, before the bench, with any other citizen. The criminal courts shall not be encumbered and no pre-arrangements or plea bargains will be tolerated. If charged with a crime a person should be brought before a jury of their peers without a predisposed outcome. There shall be no parole system, and victimless crimes will not be considered for incarceration. While incarcerated the state shall be held responsible for the safety of the prisoners.

I believe that the education of children begins at home, and while schools may be considered for expediency they are no mandatory, and do not supersede the teaching handed down from generation to generation.  Public education shall be restricted to reading, writing, and the skills needed to secure a suitable income. Studies on public affairs may be included, but private affairs such as sex education will not be considered in a public school taught by people outside the family.

I believe in the right of the Republic to form a militia for the common defense of the people at any time up to and including against police agencies that have set themselves up above he people and the law. To defend the Republic against all enemies both foreign and domestic, and each of these militias will form a National Guard, with control given from the sheriffs to the Republic until such national crisis has abated.

I believe to total transparency of government in that the government is of the people, and the people cannot hide facts from themselves. There shall be no entity engaged in acts hidden from public view since the Republic of Texas does not attack other nations there is no need for any agency to engage in clandestine activities against any other nation.

I believe in other nations having the right to exist without interference from any other state other than the intrusion upon Texas sovereignty being the only reason for any international interaction. This interaction should be in the form of defense, and not an attempt to impose our ideas or holdings upon any other nation. Texas sovereignty of paramount and therefore no other nation, nor citizen thereof shall be allowed to hold property within the Republic of Texas. No foreign nation will be allowed to invest money with an expectation any greater than a reasonable profit.


Donald Trump is Going to be President

Donald Trump is going to be the next president of the United States. Now, I want all you little children to listen to that, soak it up; I want you to ignore what the mainstream media is telling you, Ignore the polls, look at the crowd, look at the mood of the country. The Republican Party is bucking, and rolling right now because they’ve held control, and sway for so long. Same with the Democrats. These political machines have been in place in order to pick and choose who’s going to be in office, then they control who’s in office because the president will cleave to the party that paid the tab for him to walk into the White House. That is the way it truly is!

Trump is a deal changer; he is going to change the world. He is going to win. Hillary is a joke. She has more political luggage than Brittney Spears at a pot party, ok? That is the way it is. Now, you can cite all your numbers, you can cite all your nonsense, you can cite anything you want, but Trump’s groundswell is so great that if he doesn’t take the nomination, and he doesn’t win there is literally going to be a revolution in this country because the Illuminati’s control of the political system will be totally exposed. Alex Jones won’t look like a nut anymore. It’s right there for everyone to see.

The very fact that Paul Ryan is “considering” supporting Trump. He’s just not “quite there” yet. Ok, look idiot, Donald Trump has the support of the people, and he’s not perfect. If you click on this link to a guy named Pena, who is a billionaire Hispanic from Florida. He says it a lot more, uh, how do you say, poignant than I do, but it’s an enjoyable video, I strongly suggest you watch it. But, Trump is going to be in the White House!

Trump is going to be a deal changer.  All his ideas won’t work, but at least he’ll have some ideas. Look what we’ve got up there right now, we’ve got Obama, that. . . “If you like your head, you can keep your head.” I mean, c’mon, that’s what we’ve got. Now look what we’ve got lining up like she is the president designate. Everybody understands, “Well, we’ve had our black guy for eight years, and now we’re going to have this B&%ch for eight years!” So, we’ll have sixteen years of nonsense while the money changers in New York, and Brussels, London, and everywhere else control what’s going to happen with the people, well, no, the power’s going to flow from the bottom up for a little while because Trump isn’t beholden to anybody. He can say what he want to say. That’s the way it works in the real world! That’s the way it’s gonna happen! You got to know your limitations, you got to know the facts! Donald Trump will be the next president of the United States!