The Army of the Dead

“Vengeance is Mine, Saith the Lord, and I’ll go with that, but I do take a little myself.”
. (Brigham Young)

So, I said that there can be no better sword or shield than the truth. Without a doubt it has been said many times. So how can I tell if something is true or not? I have a tool to offer, and I came by it in reading some of Gloria Steinem’s latter day work (hey, even a stopped clock is right twice a day). She writes thus: The truth is synonymous with the rule; therefore if there is no exception to prove the rule, there can be no means of recognizing the truth. This idea intrigued me, as I have written more than one essay on the truth, and had naturally become a seeker.

Try it as a litmus test in your own life and let me know how it has worked for you. I know around fifty or so people who say it works for them as a truth detector; maybe you will find more of it yourself. I’ve often wondered what makes this little trick work so well, but at this time I don’t have an answer. I have become so inured to denial as a therapist that I can offer another tool I find to be quite effective. I find that often the truth is the hard thing to admit into our thinking. It’s our capacity for creating blind spots that makes it so. It ain’t Gloria Steinem or anybody; I’m just sayin’.

Let’s take it for a quick spin now. When then President Obama created Obamacare it created a grassroots movement in politics. Before a hostile media began attacking the Tea Party from the left, there were democrats liberal, and not so much so in the party. Once this media attack separated people whose long views were compatible, the party became an easy mark for super pacs. You remember, Rush and Bill going at it day and night; Clear Channel sweeping up more than a thousand low megawatt radio stations with one preacher after another doing conservative talk radio. When I listen to TV evangelists I always do it over a martini . . . or two . . .or six. Anyway, Those super packs rented mailing lists, both electronic and home delivery. And then what do you think they did? Blasphemy! I dare you to keep reading. Super packs, media, mind control, but I digress.

 So, yeah; they solicited millions of dollars each. Overwhelmingly these contributors who were low to mid income individuals. Congratulations; if you made it this far you can see the exception to the rule. If you contributed, you were the exception to a business that was as corrupt as the government it spawned. Still, they plunked you and took almost all of the money for themselves. Perfectly legal. Now, to be fair, most of the candidates that these jokers claimed to represent sent them cease and desist letters, but the damage was done. Over on Politico Ken Vogel wrote that the Tea Party movement was dead, and in fact, a couple of polls show that only seventeen percent or less of Americans identify with the Tea Party. I bet I sound like a smarty pants laughing at the Tea Party; I am in fact feeling the opposite of humor. There is within me a righteous anger that these bandit style raids on the American people brew in me. These people outright scammed the people of MY country; and it has been devastating. It has made those people MY people cynical so that we no longer respect anyone’s opinion but our own. It has taken the wind out of our sails. Unions busted so that the retirement funds can be stolen; legally! Schools utterly devastated so as to create a voucher system for schools that do not teach our children’s children anymore. Terrorism and war, all for profit, a vice president who made millions on a no contract award to a company which he had part ownership. Huh? Look, the list goes on and on and I’m about as sick of saying it as you are of hearing it.

There is a controlling monopoly in politics. They set the players, push the buttons, and the coffee always comes out with cream and sugar, just like it’s supposed to. Look at the current race. If Mitt Romney were running against Hillary, he’d stomp a hole in her butt, and walk it dry, but the monopoly didn’t want that. They needed an inexperienced person, known to be flamboyant, who, while giving the appearance of running a good race was no match for a consummate politician, in the pocket of the monopoly. These guys run as tight a game as a Vegas casino. The managers of the casinos can predict within one percent how things turn out at the end of the night, and if that percentage begins to slide they just spin the wheel and, it’ll land on the “Green Bastard” every time.

So, what am I getting at? Well, I for one think most people feel pretty much the same as I do. My party has nothing for me, and the other party is anathema. The Tea Party had been my home, but I think Vogel is right. Ned Ryun is right too I think. Mr. Ryun heads up education and support for local and regional Tea Party development, and he says it’s time to go home and start over again; time to roll up your sleeves and build it with your hands. I like that idea. There is a huge army of the dead, but they’re not dead, they are disappointed. They are the heart and soul of America. They ARE the Tea Party, and I want to raise up an army of the dead and head for D.C. because it’s time to take a little ourselves….and that’s the truth.


My Baby MaMa

My Baby MaMa. Let that soak in for a minute, will you? When I returned from California five years ago, I heard that term for the first time. It really put me back. I’m old school, you see. There’s wives, girlfriends, and mistresses. A girl friend was usually promoted to a wife if things turned out right. After you got married, if you had a girlfriend that’s just plain ol’ cheating, unless, of course you’re rich, then it’s a mistress, adding some sort of legitimacy to it. There were levels of intimacy, from having this person on the side for years all the way down to stealing a kiss, but If the woman tells then Donald Trump will sue her, I digress.

Then, there’s “My Baby MaMa.” Now leaving the “s” off of the word “baby” is not a typo. That’s the way it usually rolls out of this filth’s mouth because the man uttering the term is so morally bankrupt he for one, admits he’s a cheat, and two he’s a deadbeat dad. I know that somewhere there are men who will support their illegitimate children, but whenever you see the dropped “s” that’s usually a pretty good indication of the bankrupt deadbeatery of the speaker thereof. And they get MAD when you laugh!

Folks, this is what’s wrong with our society. There is now an official term that legitimatizes adultery. And that’s what it really is, adultery. When you remind the person who’s stupid enough to utter such a phrase of that word they REALLY get mad. Now they don’t get upset at cheating, or never contributing one red cent to the child, indeed, I met one guy who was PROUD his ex had married a man who raised his offspring so he could continue to have more “Baby MaMas” unimpeded by any responsibility whatsoever. No, they get bent out of shape when you show the same disrespect that THEY have shown toward the woman caught in an adulterous situation.

At first it amused me, but then it angered me. I know, I know, we shouldn’t judge, but after raising four boys, and two sets of grandchildren, I just can’t get my mind around “My Baby MaMa!” I’m just a simple ol’ boy from Austin, but this is the ultimate disrespect toward women. This reduces women to the role of cattle. They’re only good for a use similar to a blow up party doll, and the result isn’t even worth your name, much less your moral or financial support because “My Baby MaMa” will trudge on somehow. Maybe she’ll get lucky and meet a MAN!

The kids are NOT alright. Remember that article a couple days back? Mama’s baby grows up in this world, perhaps even being taught to show respect for “Real Daddy.” That’s another term I hate. You marry a girl, clean her up, raise her kid just like your own, and have to hear the term “Real Daddy” come out of the child’s mouth almost as soon as they can say it. MaMa babies grow up with Real Daddy, and soon figure out the circumstances of their birth, watch Teen Titans, and some chick twerking across a stage, and you wonder why the Muslims call us the Great Satan!

This situation is not going to turn on a dime. This generation must be consumed before sanity returns, and I’m not talking about OUR generation, I’m talking about MaMa baby crawling across the floor right now! Do you see the far reaching ramifications of this mess? An entire generation who doesn’t know that a man and a woman, that’s right, ONE man, and ONE WOMAN should get MARRIED, have a baby and raise it in a HOME with a mommy and daddy and FAMILY! I actually had a woman, full grown woman, tell me that adultery is where the other woman gets pregnant. Rave on baby, hell ain’t HALF full! Then, I turn on the news, find that some porn star is claiming Trump kissed her without permission, and then offered her money. She’s standing up there beside this lawyer like she’s got good sense. A porn star! Oh, my bad, Adult Film Star. Didn’t see THAT category on the Oscars. Ok, folks, I’m gonna boil that down for you. That would be a whore. Allegedly, Donald Trump at some point in history stole a kiss from her, then offered to pay her for it, and she got mad! That’s what you do with a whore. You pay her. The problem is that MaMa baby is already screwed up mentally, and THIS is being puked out on national TV! These people are being portrayed as role models. I mean, she has a lawyer, right . . . RIGHT?

Usually, I end an article with a solution, but I’m still working on this one. We’ve got a whole generation of MaMa Babies growing up, and they will VOTE some day. They will fornicate, commit adultery, dodge their responsibilities, and abort so many babies it’ll make Hitler blush with shame. And then something like Hillary will come tripping along and they will seal the deal by putting her in the office that Abraham Lincoln graced. I swear, if Hillary wins I’m never going back to America. I’m just going to stay in Texas. This kids are not alright and it’s our obligation to fix them. Teach them what good is. Teach them words like “adultery” and tell them that men who say things like “My Baby MaMa” are NOT men. They should be in line for corrective surgery, and I think you know what I’m talking about. Maybe one day we’ll again see a man introduce a woman by saying, “This is my wife, and the mother of my children.”  God save our children.

The Kids Are Not Alright

Are the kids alright? We’ve all been there. A parent’s number one priority is the safety, and well being of their children. We trust our kids to teachers, doctors, and sitters. You go out for the evening, and hire Suzie Sweetcheeks, head cheerleader at the high school, Girl Scout, lead in the school play, member in good standing at the church, and still, somewhere between the salad and the main dish you feel compelled to make that phone call for no logical reason, “Are the kids alright?”

Everything we do, as parents, is targeted toward our children being equipped to take on life, and hoping we can leave them a life worth taking on. We trust the people we elect, and put in charge to be of the same mind. A JFK, instituting a physical education mandate in order to give them healthy bodies, a school program to give them healthy minds, and clergy to help them get through the trials of puberty. The kids look up to us, and the people we put in charge, and kids start with a blank slate. What is written on that slate has many authors.

Imagine, if you will, Mohammed Ali stepping into the ring to face Joe Frazier, only instead of “Everlasting” gracing the back of their robes you see “Texaco” and “Exxon.” Now, imagine Hillary, and Trump stepping onto the debate stage, only they have robes, too, Hillary’s reading “BLS Investments” and Trump sports one reading “Thomas Barrack.” In this corner, former Senator, Secretary of State, the Terror of Benghazi, Hillary Clintoooooooooooon! And in this corner, entrepreneur, real estate mogul, heart throb of millions of women, with more money than God, Donald Truuuuuuuuuuump! Get ready to RUUUUUUMBLE!!!!!!! THIS is where your country is, folks. THESE are the people setting the bar for your children’s future. Not as painful as sitting on a bicycle without a seat, but right up there in the top five.

Words mean things because words dictate actions. Almost all serial rapists begin their career as peeping Toms. If you led a decent life, never a thought about doing anything out of the way, but were put in a situation where you had an opportunity to do something completely out of character, you’d have to at least think about it before acting, but what if you were bombarded with thoughts all through your developmental years, and believed that such deviant actions were normal, acceptable. Kids look up to political leaders, rappers, the old man on the street, and they look for direction. And it’s a double edged sword. The little boy who “grabs” combined with the little girl, who while being repulsed, believes it to be normal to BE grabbed because someone with the twelve sacred stones on their holy robe said so, and she just endures because that’s the world WE gave her.

From the rapper singing about “ Throwing up in his Ho’s cup” to candidates talking about grabbing, to those saying “What does it matter” when questioned aboutthe deaths of patriots, , the world has become a Mad Maxx movie with hundreds of sequels, and your kids will raise your grandkids. The corporate backers of everything from gangsta-rappers to presidential candidates could care less about your children so long as the bottom line is always there. THEY live in gated communities with lots of guns. YOU, and your kids live in the world THEY created, and YOU voted for. So, have dinner, enjoy the evening, make that call . . . the kids are NOT alright!

When The Kids Grow Up

When the kids grow up there will be a different world. Ted witnessed something recently. He has a neighbor who is a staunch republican. As usual, the Trump signs went up, and his yard became a political statement recently. Ted heard the voices of two boys over the fence, laughing hysterically, and he leaned closer. What was so funny was they were laughing about the conversation on that bus many years ago. They were around twelve years old. A girl of approximately the same age came to them, and reminded them that “grandpa” didn’t like them talking about that, and would be very angry if he heard it, to which one boy said, “Shut up, or I’ll grab you by the . . .”

When I was growing up in Shreveport, watching Disney on Sunday night, I didn’t know Tinkerbelle even HAD one of those things. I thought everything was smooth “down there” and after sneaking a peak at a Barbie doll I found this to be true. I was attracted to little girls, but for the life of me I didn’t know why. I guess that’s why I’m a “face man” to this day.

Now, I’m not backing off my political stance one inch. Hillary is a crap bomb about to be dropped on the White House, and among ADULTS Trump’s statement can be analyzed, talked about, and homogenized till hell freezes over. Only one problem; the kids heard it, too! The seed has now been planted, and in twenty years we will all be hanging from the mighty oak that springs forth. In forty years . . . well, you’re not going to believe. You WILL see that it is possible for a ten year old can birth a child.

The problem is that we, as conservatives, are so sick and tired of Bruce Gender, transgender bathrooms, black lives mattering, and EVERYTHING Muslim that we’ll accept any solution because the alternative is unthinkable. Division is the rule of the day. “Them against Us.” In spite of the spin that the election is rigged, the results will show the true color of our national character. Whatever comes out it, that’s what America really is. Like it, love it, leave it, but what about when the kids grow up?

You can’t undo this, folks. The die has been cast. Young, inquiring minds will explore just what that was that was being grabbed, and it’s exciting. Do you remember your first kiss? I do. It was Pam Burns, under a slide in a park when I was thirteen years old. Now, I didn’t grab her, but I couldn’t stop kissing her. I remember this over a half century later (my God, she’s gotta be a grandmother now) and it was only a peck! Can you imagine a full blown groping experience at thirteen, or twelve, or TEN!

Times they are a changing. The snobbish men’s club on Capitol Hill is about to get a heads up. Hillary represents all that is wrong with government. She is the end product of Gerald Ford’s pardon of Richard Nixon, where the standard was set that no matter what the plutocracy does, they always have a “get out of jail free” card, and good, Christian conservatives will put up with almost anything in order to end it, even letting Donald Trump lead Incitatus into the senate chamber! But, just wait ‘till the kids grow up!

Lyin’ Flyin’ Ryan

Flyin’ Lyin’ and Ryan. Y’all must understand that I’m still figuring out this politics thing. When I came upon “Nookiegate” I took my usual Texas slant and dismissed it, but when Paul Ryan did his little maneuver I tried to understand that he was just trying to salvage the republican majority. Well, Paul Ryan is a lying sack of crap. Am I being vague here? Now this is complicated, but I’m going to lay it out for you.

The republican establishment has never liked Donald Trump. They fought him tooth and nail as he kicked and clawed his way to the nomination. Ryan hid in a bathroom until he reluctantly endorsed the OVERWHELMING candidate, and then did nothing else. All the while, he, and that rat pack that defected yesterday schemed and planned what to do about Donald Trump. They were willing to throw the entire election over to Hillary, but Donald Trump must go!

I’ll admit that after watching the polls over the weekend I thought Trump had been dealt a death blow. Then I dug a little deeper and looked at the numbers. First off there’s always the question of who “won” the debate. Now, debates ain’t like a boxing match. You know, where one guy is on the mat, sucking snot, and the other is dancing around. Debates are subjective. With both parties still standing at the end the crowd will always believe THEIR guy won. I mean, he’s still standing, isn’t he?

CNN had the audacity to admit their poll was primarily democrats. The touted those numbers constantly, oh that and the little clip where Trump says he’s gonna put Hillary in jail, they were proud of that too. Hillary stood there, swatting flies, and leaning on her chair, and Bill tried to avoid looking at the ladies he’d assaulted. What has fueled the Trump Train is the fact that us “deplorables” are fed up. I was genuinely concerned with the women voters, but as I took my own poll, read comments, and considered, I began to see that the image of those abused women sitting there at the debate spoke louder than all the locker room jokes on that bus ever could. Women are fed up, too!

Now, let’s go back. The republican establishment has never supported Donald Trump. Trump has used them for what they’re good for, but his entire “put togethers” has been the fact that he’s not beholden to anyone except the American people, and Paul Ryan can’t stand that. See the hypocrisy here? Isn’t the speaker of the house supposed to be obliged to the American people, too? I’m confused. Scott Binsack isn’t confused


It seems that Ryan was somewhere mixed up in the release of Nookiegate. In a two prong attack he tried to derail the Trump Train, and keep his political machine in working order even if it means working with President Hillary Clinton. Trump has began to recover. People are seeing through the farce and marching steadily toward November 8.

I am learning this game. What I’m seeing is these RINOs are NOT representative of anything except their own interests. It doesn’t matter is there’s a little “r” behind their name, they’re just a bunch of high flyin’ Ryans with a little “d” hid off somewhere. When Paul Ryan pulled his little stunt yesterday he played right into Donald Trump’s hands, exposing himself for why he really was, and effectively finalizing the divorce between the American People and the Republican Party. Kinda like the garbage taking itself to the road.

Poopy Man

Well, we got to watch the face off between the wicked witch of the east and poopy man last night. I watched the debate on CNN,, and made the mistake of continuing to listen to the commentary afterwards. The debate was wild, but the gymnastics of the reporters after was incredible. Ok, I get it, Trump said a dirty word. With women being a “yuge” voting block this may be the joker in the deck that gives Hillary a straight flush. CNN isn’t going to let this go.

I’ve seen in the past the way CNN slants, insinuates, and enters into the debate itself, cloaked as moderating. They do this when they have no basis. I have to admit this “locker room” thing does have some meat, and CNN is going to sauté it with garlic and onions. Let’s get down to the bottom line.

American politics stinks. Last night revealed that we have hit a new low. Clinton HAS took a hammer to her server. She DID roll over and go back to sleep as Benghazi fell. She DID cover for Bill’s exploits in the White House, and she DIDN’T divorce him. Trump DID make jokes about grabbing women “down there” against their will. Now, I’m going to be candid with you, and you may be surprised. Because of the songs I’ve recorded, I have a terrible reputation among people who’ve never met me. I’m sixty-five years old and I have never grabbed a woman like that. My mother told me if I ever showed disrespect to a lady she’d beat me with an iron skillet. Mom’s gone, but I still have the skillet. When someone makes a statement that if you have enough money you can do whatever you want to women it should give you pause.

Words mean things. When you hear someone orally fantasize about such things you must ask yourself where the base line is? Was it pure fantasy or was there a little wishful thinking, or even an action somewhere in the past? The final result is we now have a campaign between two people that really nobody wants. Democrats cannot get past those emails, and republicans can’t get out of that bus! It almost makes a third term for Obama enticing.

I don’t think this crisis is going to be easy on Donald. He’s a fighter. He will fight until the end. Hillary already has a TV ad up using clips from last night. His campaign was slipping since the first debate. I noticed the poll numbers turn around. From the moment Trump announced his run he has clawed his way up the ladder. Always up. When he won the nomination it lent legitimacy to his candidacy. Last week’s downturn marked the first time the Trump Train seemed to be running out of steam. The release of the private tape came at exactly the right time to emphasize this, and the herd of republican congressmen running for the door only served to emphasize the enormity of the effect on the republican lunge for the White House.

The campaign is reduced to a mud fight. Trump slings, Clinton tries to be coy, and slings back. It’s similar to a scene from the remake of the movie, “Vacation” where the family finds itself swimming in a sewer thinking it’s the hot springs. As the mud slinging continues it’ll come down to which candidate doesn’t stink as bad. . There is much speculation about who will win, and who will lose, but I’m reminded of an old Paul Simon tune.

Going to the candidates’ debate

Laugh about it, talk about it

When it’s time to choose

Every way you look at it, you lose

God I Miss Granny Clampett

God I miss Granny Clampett! She was the old lady on the Beverly Hillbillies was famous for cooking up concoctions out by the “cement pond.” Everything from “possum” to “shine” came rolling out. Back then it was funny because everyone just knew nobody really did that. All but the folks in Louisiana where I was born, who were eagerly hoping to pick up a few tips from Granny.. Back in the day food bought in a store or café was pretty much the same as anywhere else. The green beans weren’t all that green, the corn, well, it was purt near white! See, what they did was cook the food up and then just can it as is, just like folks did at home, only the can was prettier, and it was supposed that the food companies had a tad more on the ball than Granny sheerly from volume. Volume. Write that down.

There are several factors to be considered when producing food for the masses. When Ora Jean took her honey to the store in Ding Dong, Texas she gave it to the owner, who put it on the shelf, and most likely when Ora Jean came back next week to pick up her money all the honey would be gone. She dropped off five more jars and went shopping. That little store in Ding Dong would probably fit quite well in the rest room of HEB, the Goliath supermarket a lot of Texans depend on for their daily bread. HEB runs the home spun ads showing some guy growing green beans, a few family around him, and of course, the obligatory daughter. Always ends with, “This is such and such department at HEB.” A shack, two tractors, and a girl in faded jeans. If you buy that have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on isle five!

Now I’m just picking on HEB because I can see one from here. Walmart is just as bad. They’d sell you rat tails for toothpicks if they thought they could get away with it. Both corporate enterprises contend with the same problem. Ora Jean died a long time ago, and the bees all flew off.. Enter Chinese businessman, Won Hung Lo. Won has a LOT of honey. Well, mostly honey, and therein is the problem. He’s not dropping off five jars of honey, he’s dropping off five OIL TANKERS full. Won, HEB, and Wally World all have to do the math. How much honey should they put on the shelves, how long can they afford it to sit there, and last, but not least, how can they make the honey for NOTHING and sell it for SOMETHING?

Shelf life is very important. If you can find a way to keep something fresh then you extend shelf life. You could probably buy a Big Mac today, and Jesus can eat it when He returns. Driving down costs is important, too. Why have one hundred percent honey when a mixture of honey and vegetable oil will taste pretty much the same. And one hundred percent pure beef. Sure. Flank, skirt, loin, eyeballs, tongue, private parts and noses. Hey! It’s one hundred percent pure beef, right? All coming from the Billy Joe Jim Bob beef department at HEB. Won is Billy Joe on steroids.

If you read ingredients you will be overwhelmed. I have a simple rule. If I can’t pronounce it, or it has more than two syllables I don’t eat it. Added water? That’s cool. That’s just the butcher sneaking his thumb on the scale. Salt, i.e. Sodium, well, it’s kinda natural, but next time you’re in the store check out the amounts in a pound of “one hundred percent” ground beef compared to the pre-pressed patties you buy because you’re too lazy to mash up your own. Then we progress all the way up to MonoTookItOutOfMyButtAndStuckItInYourMouth preservatives “to maintain freshness.” Wanna know how much of this stuff is out there? An undertaker friend of mine once told me when he entered the profession there were times where a funeral was delayed, and he worked hard to keep mama fresh. Now, due to additives and preservatives, a lot of bodies arrive pre-pickled. I Crappith Thee NOT!

Another thing is boxed food. Don’t even read the label. Just eat the box. It’s better for you. You know according to the FDA, Legos are fit for human consumption. Stop laughing. How do those chicken nuggets taste? Boxed food lasts a LONG time, and I mean a LOOOOONG time. Ever notice how the roaches always seem to linger on the box and not the macaroni inside? Jus Sayin. I think the boxed food craze began with all the “helper” things. Hamburger Helper, Tuna Helper, and a favorite in Arkansas, POSSUM HELPER! Read the ingredients. If you can’t scrounge up some meat, a little garlic, macaroni, tomato sauce, and some cheese, you deserve that bathroom break in the morning. There’s nothing magic in that box, except it may make it easier for my buddy the undertaker.

Save your fork, here comes the good part. FAST FOOD! There is no such thing as fast food. SOMEbody has to knock that cow in the head, and grind up them eyeballs so they can hand you that In and Out burger, ok? That is NOT the burger your mama made, you know, the one,with the bell peppers hanging out the side. And fast food scandals abound. What is amazing is what we can eat and not drop dead. Well, at least not right then, anyway.

I love chicken wings. It’s more of a social even than a meal. In Texas it becomes a challenge to produce a wing that is so hot you can light a cigarette with it. Along came Won. The problem with chicken wings is there ain’t much chicken on a wing. Hell, it’s just beer food anyway, who’s worried. Millineums, THAT’S who’s worried. They can’t be gnawing around some stupid bone, and they’re smoking pot anyway. Make the wings a nugget of another shape. Wait! Cost. Them chickens cost “X” and how do you mix an additive to a wing? Well, with a bone in wing you can’t, and the cost of de-boning all them wings, grinding up the meat, and at least TRYING to shape them like a wing . . .well, as you can plainly see, we have what’s called a cost issue right away. Ah So! . Just gotta find a replacement that is similar to chicken. Oh, did I tell you that about a million pounds of rat meat, shaped like chicken wings turned up coming in from China. Now, I don’t know if there’s any connection, but it just so happens that right after that, Sonic had those two guys in the car on their commercial advertising a two for one sale on, you guessed it . . . BONELESS CHICKEN WINGS! What’s wrong with you? Rats? They taste just like chicken.

Mexican food is a big part of the Texas scene. Well, it’s not really Mexican food, it something called “Tex-Mex” which is our way of ripping off someone’s culture and calling it our own, but down here even babies eat tacos. This style of food is easy to make, tastes great, and basically won’t really hurt you, all but the morning toilette, but BE A MAN! Well, wouldn’t you know it. You get a bunch of Yankees involved with something that costs next to nothing, and they’ll come up with a way to make it cost nothing. You do this because the primary ingredient in this cuisine is that one hundred percent pure ground beef we talked about earlier. Seems that Taco Bell was blending in a little silicon to “beef up” the taco. Their CEO even confirmed it, saying it had been FDA approved, and was safe for human consumption. In fact, it was he same type of silicon used safely for years in breast implants. Now, I’m just a simple ol’ boy from Austin, but I prefer my titties ala carte! God I miss Granny Clampett. ,,


Immunity in criminal cases is used to get facts from participants who are not the target of the investigation in order to prosecute the perpetrator of the original crime. Write that down, there’s gonna be a quiz later. Let’s look at a situation. HomeBoy shoots his connection from a car in some back alley in Ferguson, Missouri. Yeah, I know, I’m a racist, just deal with it and let’s move on. So, the cops bring in HomeBoy, and the driver and start sweating them. HomeBoy ain’t saying nuttin. Cops notice that the driver is a bit perturbed over the possibility of being Bubba’s boyfriend for the next twenty-five years to life, so they begin to rub it in. Bring him a Coke, but he notices a little jar of Vaseline on the table. After a while the subject zeros in on his involvement with the shooting, mix in a little “good cop, bad cop” and an offer is made. If he rolls over on HomeBoy, not only will they let him walk out the door, they’re gonna buy him a ham sandwich, and give back his car. This is called “immunity.”

Now, I give you a second case. HomeGirl sets up a server for emails. Nothing wrong with that, ‘cept this HomeGirl has a very sensitive job in the State Department, and the server is about as secure as the chats between the proverbial thirteen year old girl and the perv sitting in that kitchen watching Chris Hansen walk in. “What are you doing here, Madam Secretary?” Well, as luck work would have it the fertilizer hits the fan and everybody’s butt is on the table. There are five particular butts who have intimate knowledge of this event. But, there is a new wrinkle in the blanket. These five know they will be questioned, and they know they are involved. Do they wait until the hammer is about to fall? Why heck no! They strike an immunity deal before the first question is ever asked. The immunity is so universal that in the end the cops call a press conference and tell everyone, “Nothing to see here, just keep moving!”

Now, I’m just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, but did I miss something here? Thirty-Three THOUSAND emails in a server that was so insecure Russian children are studying them to learn English! I Crappith Thee NOT! A State Department that was so flabber-mouth it announced the arrival of an ambassador so ISIS would be there on time. A candidate that is so devious she crawls to her SUV and the press is told she dropped a contact. Nothing to see here, just move on. And her “evidence” on her opponent? He doesn’t like fat chicks, and files taxes like a billionaire.

There is no clean end of a turd. The scary part is that about fifty percent of the voting public, not counting the deceased, of course, think she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread! If Hillary wins you don’t have to leave the country, the country will have left YOU! Go to Mexico. It’ll be empty. Start a new life there.

This is the most decisive election in American history. It’s almost as if God, Himself set it up as a test for us to show who we really are, and if we fail the test, we get Hillary, and Bill, and Chelsea, and El Chapo, and Ali Babba! Black lives won’t matter, white lives won’t matter, NO lives will matter. Hmmm, maybe we can all get “immunity.”

Duct Tape

I was having coffee, glanced at my little table, and had a brilliant freaking thought! As you know, if you read my article, “Why” today, I was expounding the death of JonBenet. Well, I also have been watching endless episodes of “The First 48,” where homicide detectives work feverishly to develop a lead within the first forty-eight hours or their chances of solving the crime will diminish by as much as fifty percent! I noticed a common factor. The same common factor I saw in another series, “Forensic Files.” This evidence was plain in the JonBenet case. I’m surprised that our legislatures haven’t noticed it, it was there in plain sight, as I reached for my coffee it hit me. Right there on my table. DUCT TAPE! Nearly all women killed come into contact with duct tape. There is even forensics developed to analyze duct tape. When and where it was made, how sticky is is, or isn’t, and ways to lift DNA and fingerprints specifically from duct tape. I Crappith Thee NOT! Google it!

So, I don’t know the exact statistics, but I’d be willing to guess that if we could enact Duct Tape Control, we could reduce death to women by at least eighty percent! Forget gun control. Guns don’t kill people, DUCT TAPE kills people! Now, admittedly, there are some women who need duct tape, at least on their mouth, certain presidential candidates come to mind, in addition to Mothers Against The Second Amendment, but can’t you see? If a maniac cannot buy duct tape the odds of him (or her) being able to commit the crime will be greatly reduced..

Of course there will always be certain people who either have duct tape, or can get it on the black market, so that’s the more reason all duct tape should be REGISTERED! Anyone on a “No-Fly” list should be banned from ever purchasing duct tape. Just imagine all the women who’d still be with us if we’d only taken duct tape out of the hands of depraved people.

I know that some states, such as California and Colorado will most likely legalize duct tape within their borders for medical purposes, sex therapy comes to mind, and there will still be duct tape use south of the border. God knows the Cartels use a LOT of duct tape, but if we can just regulate use of it on a wide scale for law abiding citizens the murder rate will plummet! I should run for president, I really should! I’d be “Yuge!”


Why? That is the biggest, most profound question in human existence. Why? We see the unexplainable, the horrific, the soul searing, and stare up at the sky, asking, “Why?” You will wait until you’re dust, pray until ice forms on your upraised palms, and never be able to comprehend, “Why?”

For the last week I’ve been studying the death of JonBenet. We’ll never understand the mind of the person who perpetrated the act, indeed, if we understand, then we are as depraved as that person was. No, the why here is why does it make any difference after twenty years. On this I can enlighten you. It makes a difference because the death of that little girl stole not only her life and innocence, but ours as well. We all wish that life were beautiful, and Shirley Temple was forever singing “The Good Ship Lolly Pop,” but JonBenet’s death reminded us that the ship ran aground that day, and we were forced to look at the crumpled body of our dreams on a basement floor.

I noticed that as I watched documentary after documentary I began to focus more and more on the beautiful, and less on the basement floor. I was absolutely stunned at the talent in that little body, and still asking, “Why?” It’s as if God is using her death to teach us a bunch of lessons. God didn’t make this happen, man has free will, but once it did happen He used it. He used it to show us what evil is, how we will always be exposed to it, and how we answer the “why” determines how we fight it. God also challenged our arrogance. For all the “trace DNA,” and national data bases, FBI, CIA, NSA, and gumshoes taking a magnifying glass to ever part of that house we will most likely never surely know what happened in that basement in 1996! God knows, and he waits at the Gate behind that big cash register in the sky to total up the bill. JonBenet will have an eternity of dancing with the Angels, and whomever killed her will dance with the devil.

Why? My six year old grandson got to go to school for the first time this year. All his life he got to watch his brothers and sister get on that big yellow bus, and ride off to a mysterious place that he wasn’t allowed to go, and he longed for the day when he, too, will be a “big boy,” and take his place on that bus. I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that I feel the wonder, the joy, in a little boy’s mind on that day. My grandson was transformed, invigorated because it was a right of passage. On that day we stopped calling him “New Baby,” and called him by his name, Stevin! Out in Carolina there was another little six year old boy. I know he was just as thrilled to be a “big boy” too, and I know he loved his teachers, his lunch, his books, and the school ground . . . where he was shot while going to his school. He lingered for most of a week, and now he plays with JonBenet. Why?