That Was The Week That Was Was The Week That Was

From reflections to events, but that’s the way my week usually goes. Unlike other writers, I don’t just jump on the morning news, even in a big event, I let the story “season,” because first thoughts are never the correct thoughts. What happened is never as important as why it happened, because if we don’t reflect, and learn, then we’ll just keep doing the same thing over and over again, and, as you probably know, that’s the definition of insanity.
I began the week with an idea of the eventual breakup of the American Dream, i.e. set up a government to steal everything, and try to cram it into the Beltway. In “God Bless Americans,” I said, “As we all know, the American government has been overreaching for years, and part of this is because of the artificial definitions of who’s who, and what’s what. Most of the time Federal mandates, and decisions are mandatory, and arbitrary. States make laws, but why? All Uncle Sam has to do is make His law, and the state legislature becomes a complete waste of time. K. C. Massey can carry a gun under Texas law, Sammy says, “No,” K. C. goes to jail. Someone can fire up a joint in Malibu, DEA doesn’t like it, guy gets arrested and has a criminal record. Fundamentalist Mormon wants to marry twin sisters and the Fed can’t seem to find the ink to put one more square on a tax form. See where this is going, folks?”
From there I let old Brother Greed get ahold of me and penned, If I Had Won The Powerball. I ain’t even gonna lie to you. I had that money spent, and I listed all my dreams for the public to see. “If I had won the Powerball. I sat up last night waiting for the Powerball drawing. I didn’t get a single number. You’d think there would be a prize for that! Anyway, like practically every other fool who invested in castles in the air, and purchased a Powerball ticket, I had big plans. I’d like to list them here. They ranged from the sublime to the sub-slime, but here goes.” Well, as you probably figured out, I didn’t win, and had to rush down to pay the light bill the next day.
Politics raised its ugly head next, ugly being the key word. Hey, for the record, I understand why Bill cheated on Hillary, ok. I kept having images of Arkansas politicians, ugly women, and cornbread swirling around in my head and out popped, Dead As Cornbread. “From White Water to Benghazi, Hillary has danced on a razor’s edge for years. Other people in the public eye can commit just a smidgen of what she’s pulled and they’re thrown out of the Army, charged with a crime, end up with public ridicule, and Alex Jones accuses them of leading the New World Order. Hillary could pee on the White House steps and the Liberal Left would say she had found a new way to fix global warming. Am I the only one who thinks there is something wrong with this picture?”
Where Everybody Knows Your Name was next. I have no idea where this idea sprang from, but I suspect it was a bar tab. “Places like this never last, and that’ sad. Just a place where seasoned men come to relax and compare lives. I gain more there than any other place I go. I listen more than I talk, and I learn. These guys view things like ISIS with a very jaundiced eye. And everybody knows your name. I like that.”
That night I listened to my friend, Scott Binsack, reflect on his belief in an Eternal Creator, and wrote, In God We Trust. “God got expelled from school, His commandments from the courthouse square, and from the halls of Congress, and we wonder what ever happened to the country. God is a nice guy. You don’t have to throw him out, just ask Him to leave, and he’ll oblige. And, when He does leave what do you have left? Bruce Gender, Hillary, Obama, and Imam whoever! Children don’t say prayers, or the Pledge of Allegiance in school anymore. They learn how to do drugs, and different sexual preferences, depending on the gender, or cross-gender of the teacher. Welcome to a Godless world!”
I’m very TexCentric, and it showed in Olga vs The American Dream. “This was a big heads up to the third world. While Washington wasn’t invaded, America, for once, had to stand down. We, of course, put the spin on it. We were like Putin recently said. We were like playing chess with a pigeon. We knocked over all the pieces, pooped on the board, and then stomped around like we won. Still, we had the dream. Or rather, Martin Luther King had a dream. Our dream had caught the last train for the coast.”
Seems I was drawn to the past a lot this week. During lunch with some old friends, we got to talking about our high school days, and a few things came to mind. In The Last Picture Show I wrote about things that would make kids in New York, or California would cringe at. “I didn’t have a pickup. I had a ’54 Chevy. The good thing about it was you could get four friends in the trunk when you went to the show. That meant for you, and the girl, it cost about seventy cents to get in. That’s right, one girl, five boys. Hey, we weren’t Muslims, she was safe. Also, if you were lucky she would be an Army brat and have five dollars or so in her purse, which would turn into buttered popcorn for everybody. The way you convinced her to give up the money was a gift, usually flowers, which meant a swing through the graveyard on the way to pick her up. They didn’t show that in the Last Picture Show either!”
By the week’s end I was blowing through pretty good. Still reflecting on Scott’s broadcast, I did a commentary on my first book, Sharon. “The Muslim community has got to come to the realization that the volatile section of Radical Islam is so dangerous to the rest of the world that they, the “good” Muslims need to handle it, or we, the rest of humanity will have to handle it for them.”
I was flying so high that I began to generate “doubles,” by this time. When I get an idea I just write it, no waiting for later. After listening to a Trump speech I resurrected Little Red Riding Republican with a nice 2016 update. “Well, that’s where Little Red Riding Republican comes in. She had been raised in the wisdom handed down from generation to generation. She had eyes of blue, and flaxen hair that fell down around her shoulders. She would take long walks in the country, and one day, during one of these walks she became lost and a figure appeared out of thin air. It was a black knight!”
And, last, but certainly not least, Black Lives Don’t Matter! Actually, I’ve toyed with this title for months, but I just couldn’t take the edge off enough. When someone came back with ALL Lives Matter, I thought to myself, “Heck, why don’t we just join hands and sing, “We Shall Overcome?” Finally, I came up with a perfect second line. For the record, Black Lives Matter is the epitome of Liberal Stupidity. You simply have to have the guts to put it out there. Everybody knows movements like this are stupid, and the originators laugh all the way to the bank. Unfortunately for them I write for the Tea Party, not the Pot Party! That’s why they call me Bill the Butcher! “Black lives don’t matter! My life matters! In the words of Billy Joe Shaver, “When you have no way to go you’d better know I’m gonna get my share of mine.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a racist. More than that, I’m a Texan. Texas wasn’t built on a food stamp. America has evolved into a welfare state. In Texas we have a thing called a “51% sign.” Now, it’s supposed to refer to the amount of food vs alcohol that forbids the carrying of a gun within an establishment. In America it is the percentage of citizens working every day, as opposed to those lining up at the welfare office for their daily bread.”
Sunday is a day of rest. Well, maybe for some, but for me it’s a day of reflection. They don’t rest, so I don’t rest. I have been called, A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, and that’s good, because when the libtards pounce on me I can always say, “Hey! I told you I was stupid from the start.” Have a blessed week, and keep looking for America. It’s somewhere out there.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


Thinning The Herd

Thinning the herd. It reduces the remnant to the best. I am sick and tired of Facebook jail, sneaky liberals, thin skins, snitches, and most people from California. I am going through my Facebook “friends,” and reducing the numbers accordingly. What is a Facebook friend? Well, there are three kinds. Type one is a real friend. Someone you know personally, have had a beer with them, and find out they’re on Facebook. You hook up and pass pictures of your lunch. Then there are these people who send you a friend request. There are subgroups to this. Group one is people who know an actual friend (see the above), people who know of you and wish to know more about you, and then there are those other friends. They are sort of like, “Yeah, we’re divorced, but we’re still friends.” Boys and girls, if you believe that last statement, have I got a bridge for you and it’s on sale! Definition of divorce: Two people who can’t get along even during sex! Then, there are trolls.
It may come as a surprise to you, but there are people who have nothing better to do except hang on the internet making waves. Some LGBT advocate who joins a Tea Party groups. Then, they proceed to flag everything they see. I saw one of these yesterday that wanted to flag an entire group, although no one had addressed her personally, and no foul language had been used. These are people who would argue with Col. Sanders over a piece of chicken. They read books like “Fifty Shades,” and quite frankly, they’re usually white. I don’t know how many are from, or in California, but if they’re not there they will get there as fast as they can to marry their significant other. (Racist enough for ya’ll?)
I was put in Facebook jail once this year. I put up a picture of Leatherface, kidded the IslamaBastards a little bit, and the door slammed shut for a day. Hey, I thought anyone who drank camel piss would be cool with LeatherFace! My bad. . . he was white! I don’t know who jacked me up, but I don’t think it was a fan of Clint Eastwood. Yesterday I noticed my friend, C. J. Grisham was locked up for three days. Now, let’s do the math. This man has changed history, retired Army, was running for the Senate, squeaky clean member of his church, and somehow he offended “someone” out there. For the record I don’t go to church because every time I do my hair catches of fire.
I have a solution. My rules are simple. First, I will keep all those I have touched, or know personally. Next, members of groups which I am a member, whom I know their political affiliation. Then, members of the publishing community that I know are open minded enough to read something and realize that it’s only a blog and will not harm you if you just move on. Oh, and the two girls I know that have low IQs, but know how to take a good selfie. I shy away from people who send you a friend request in Arabic. I mean, get real!
You have to realize that Facebook is a computer program. The flesh and blood people working there do not possibly have the means to check all posts, but trolls know how to push the appropriate buttons and get what they want. I use key words and tricks, i.e. “Islamabastards.” I made that up. Also, it’s five syllables, and that helps a lot.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

It’s All Going To Pot

Sat back this weekend and had a beer (or two) watching the news and regrouping. I call it, “Letting the well fill.” I have ideas flowing in my mind all the time. I’ll start watching YouTube and get on a run of videos that leads just about anywhere. Yesterday’s big push was Facebook addiction. I crappith thee not! There is an actual condition called “Facebook Addiction Disorder!” It has SYMTOMS! No, for real, and I have every one of them. I’m real good at dodging a drunk test, but this caught be a bit unawares.

As you know, I pulled back from Facebook about a week ago because I was putting a huge amount of time into it for virtually no return. Over the weekend I refined my ideas and I’m still going to post on Doc’s page, and a small private group. What I’m not going to do is sit on this porch “liking” Cob salads and dogs dancing the cha cha! My original contention was correct. Much ado about nothing. I did find one major flaw, stemming from the videos. They go on and on about once you put something on Facebook it’s there forever! You can’t really delete anything, and millions upon millions of people will see it. LIE!! Ok, lookee here. . . I’m a writer. I WANT millions of people to see my stuff. That’s my complaint! Nada! I could put a picture of myself naked on this porch typing this article and maybe, just maybe I’ll get one “like” from the gay guy around the corner.

But that’s not where the addiction comes from. That is where you check, and recheck your status, likes, news feed, whatEVER, hoping something will break. The only thing that ever happens is when you make an honest comment someone takes offense and you’re off to “Facebook Jail.” While sitting in my cell last week I came to realize that I was just as goofy as those thirteen year old airhead chicks with their pink iPhones and their “BFF.s” My granddaughter, Kylie, is cooler than I am. My other granddaughter, Jordyn, not so much. After three days in solitary I got over the shakes. Facebook reinstated me, but I didn’t go back for my fix. I pulled completely away. I did set up some rules. No more scanning the news feed. Other than my secret group, and you must be invited by an existing member to get there, I don’t comment on squat! You have to have people you really know! I once made a comment to a girl in Arizona that she was still pretty, even though she was pregnant. She was having an issue, thinking she was fat, and I was driving home the point of beautiful motherhood. Well, I’m sixty-four, and she’s twenty-one, and all her friends jumped on me calling me a creepy stalker. I un-friended everybody in Arizona and searched for a way to block anything I ever write from going there. Stalk that!

That brings me to another subject I got into this weekend. If you type in “Facebook danger” you’ll get a virtual instruction manual on how to lure teen-age girls to a city park and pick them up. It’s all in the guise of “saving the children,” but the bottom dollar is that after you watch a couple hundred of these videos you realize that teens are semi-retarded. When I was young the rules were simple; don’t talk to strangers, look both ways when you cross the street and eat all your spinach. Now you have kids who “friend” just about anybody and the first time they get invited to a face to face their only response is, “I have to wait until my parents are asleep.” Kylie would never do that. Jury’s still out on Jordyn. Matter of fact she did sneak out at least once, but we don’t like to talk about that around here. What I’m trying to say is we, as adults, seriously need to reinforce simple survival rules or the species is not going to make it. The world is changed. When I was seven a rite of passage was to be able to get on a trolley, go downtown, see a movie, and find your way back home. If you tried to teach your kid that nowadays you’d have the CPS case from hell! Like ol’ Willie said in his last song, “It’s all going to pot. . . best I can tell the world’s gone to hell, and we’re sure gonna miss it a lot!” God, I hope Trump makes it.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

The Jawbone of an Ass

I sent out a notice to my Facebook friends last night that I was leaving Facebook. There are many factors concerning this decision, and I’m going to try to explain them here. First off the statistics. For all the hoopla generated by Zuckerberg and company, for me Facebook is virtually worthless. I place articles in dozens of groups and get, mmmm, maybe twenty reads a day. Compare that with the Tea Party Tribune, Patriotic Warriors, Raging Elephants, the Dam Good Times, MY blogs, and Twitter. Twitter alone gave me 13,000 reaches just since midnight last night. (Zuck you Zuckerberg!)

Another problem is my drinking habits. I like Jim Beam and Martinis. Both I take straight. When I see some girly-man pour Coke in a shot of Beam I wonder why he’s drinking at all. Same with my writing. When I put something on Facebook I have to include two shots of water to dumb it down for the Facebook police. Now, I’m not going harp on that old “freedom of speech” argument. It’s their little sex site and they have a right to run it as they see fit. I mean, I’m not a communist. But, when I have to edit every other line for political correctness so as not to offend some freaky looking school kid that got lucky on the internet I just get madder, and madder, and madder.

And, if you are white, and Christian the rules change all the time. You never know if you’re in-house, or out-house. One day you can post a Richard Pryor joke and it’s all cool, and the next to type the word “Muslim,” and you do ten days in Facebook jail! And I’m not even a good Christian! If I get into heaven it’ll be because Saint Peter fell asleep at the gate. As you might imagine, all this is extremely perplexing to a political satirist who used to write adult country comedy in Nashville. Oh, did I mention that I like women? That’s a Facebook No No, too. You gotta be gay. Heterosexuality is the new black. That and baby killing. And if you’re gay and pro-choice? Shut the front door! So you got two sets of rules. If you’re a liberal leftist with a same sex friend you can post most anything you want. Just call yourself Muslim, and , well, shucks. . . over coffee a week ago I got to look at a picture of a formerly lovely young lady who championed the cause of the refugees in Sweden. Well, she has looked better. The picture I saw was her body on some rocks, naked, with her head bashed in and her legs spread like a baked chicken. But Facebook is offended by Leatherface waving his chainsaw.

So, here I am stepping gingerly through Facebook barbed wire, trying to water down my stuff enough to not get slammed and getting about twenty or thirty consistent reads. That’s like the girl that loads up your Visa and takes the bartender home. Now, before you think I am an unsuspecting victim I baited Facebook, ok? Last night I kept pushing the envelope until they popped. To be honest, I’m not totally leaving. I will maintain contact with some friends, and my granddaughter who reads my stuff on her iPhone while in college. I began the migration away from Facebook about a year ago. I didn’t rely on it for any distribution of merit.

I have several places that I can be found. Google is one. Now I don’t understand Google. I’m everywhere there. I started several blogs. At one point each article was a separate blog. I wrote for Angel Eyes Over Texas for a while (still do) so you can find old stuff that I don’t even remember writing. There is a subscribe button, and you can click it and get that blog emailed to you as it updates. WordPress is my workhorse. Even the Tea Party Tribune uses it as a foundation. Actually, I was coming out of the Tribune and most of what went to Facebook was links back to that publication. Its sister site, Patriotic Warriors, gets mirror images of the articles. The Dam Good Times is my brick and mortar. I’m there monthly in a section called “Wilbur’s Corner.” Crystal Lee Larimore runs that, and she’s nice to me so long as I don’t cuss. You might want to consider subscribing that that paper. Good Texas stuff that you won’t find anywhere else. Then there is Raging Elephants Radio. Doc Greene made me what I am today. You can go there, but you can also get the station on the TuneIn App on your smartphone. On the site there is a chatroom where you can interact with the hosts (and yes, they will really chat with you) and express your ideas.

My articles go worldwide. Just like my books, I get copied, and distributed by people I never met, and will never know. I’m not hard to find. What I realized was that I was short changing all of these outlets by licking the boots of Facebook, and that’s why I made the decision to move away from that medium. I submit to two other quite well known talk show hosts, but I won’t name drop here, suffice to say my move will not affect that in any way. Both men have had issues with Facebook themselves, and who knows, I may start something here.

Ok, publicity! Ring the bell, school’s in. Yesterday I did an article about little Ahmed the watch maker up in Irving. Now, you have to understand, I’m sixty-four, on a back porch in Hotterthanhell, Texas, over my first cup of coffee and a cigarette. I check the news and here’s this story about this kid bringing a clock to school and gets jacked up by the cops. Well, I am leery of cops, and I really don’t like school teachers so here I go. Then I published it, and then I had a second cup of coffee and began to peel the onion. Do you know how hard it is to get publicity? You could set a puppy on fire on main street and get maybe thirty-five views on YouTube. You could write an article proving the existence of God, and have photographs of the Big Bang and if you’re lucky your mother might read it. Sooooooo, little Ahmed brings his contraption to school and the east and west coasts light up. Now just how do you suppose that happened? Could there be some organization with an agenda lurking behind the scenes? You betcha. It’s called CAIR. CAIR is the organization that supposedly tries to reconcile Islam with USlam, by putting the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders in Burqas. Ok, students, there are two kinds of Muslims in the world. The radical Muslims who want to kill you, and the moderate Muslims who want the radical Muslims to kill you. On the surface some kid getting slapped for a clock seems harmless enough. What about the next clock? See how that works. Ever wonder why all those guys getting their heads cut off on the ISIS show seem so calm. That’s because they’ve been put in that position so many time they think it’s just another dry run. In every science fair I ever saw in school the students were assigned a project by the teacher. The teacher was fully aware of what was being done, indeed, maybe even assisting the kid along the way. Then along comes Ahmed with this briefcase sized “clock” and walks in with the digital display running. If this punk was so smart, why didn’t he redesign the Apple Watch?

Anyway, I am constructing an alternative to Facebook. That’s the plan. I will tweak things along the way, and invite advice from everyone. I have to figure a way to sell my latest book, A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin. I have another I’m working on, “I Crappith Thee NOT!” I live in Texas, so I don’t have to make much money, that’s why the book is so cheap. I have one thing I like to do that costs a bit, and that’s trips to California to drink wine and watch girls swim in the ocean. The view is free, but the wine is a bit pricey. Thank you all for your support, and I will continue to attack liberals with the jawbone of an ass.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

One Day at a Time

My decision to migrate from Facebook was based on many factors. First, it’s time consuming. It seems like the entire system is designed to keep you forever digging and posting with very little result. Like one of those bait and switch postings where the lead in is something like “Survive the End,” and you get this “voice!” By the end of this (30 minute) video you will be shown how to live off a banana for a month, and at the end they just try to get your credit card, and it’s always the SAME VOICE! I know that voice and I RUN from it. It’s like a soap opera, and Facebook is FULL of them.

Then there are “groups.” Everybody has a group, or two, or three, or hundreds. The bad ones are the ones based over in India. Now, I’ll be honest with you, all I knew about India was that it was hot, sweaty, and they came up with the Karma Sutra. I didn’t even KNOW they had politics. Well, they DO, and they’re IRRITATED! You’ll run across some chick who’s never been any farther down the street than the local fish market, but on Facebook she’s an AMBASSADOR. She has no informed logic, but she knows if you’re from Texas you simply must be a racist, and I guess I am because I found myself looking at her profile picture to see if she had a dot between her eyes. I’ll be honest, i was hoping she was wearing one of those see-through silk things, but that’s just me. I imagine India as being crowds of people, living in cardboard boxes, all standing shoulder to shoulder, HIV positive, dodging cows who roam the streets at will because Hindus are too STUPID to eat a Big Mac! Unless it’s at a beach party near Oceanside, with wine, groups solve nothing. They’re just as bad as that infomercial, only you really expect something to change. What they do is fill up your inbox with “So and so tagged you in a photo” and you rush over to see a picture of a CAT!

Should you finally bow up and call the girl from India what she really is you find yourself in “Facebook Jail!” Whatever you say is not going anywhere ANYWAY, but Facebook has designed a system to make you yearn for it. The one steadfast rule is that if you state your mind you will eventually wind up in Facebook Jail. You can look through the bars but you can’t reach through them, and the most amazing thing is that when you parole you actually curb your tongue so you don’t go back there again! REAL jail should work that good. There are similarities to real jail, such as random attacks by homosexuals. You still have to put up with that. I’ve been in Facebook Jail for one day, and caught myself acting like everyone else! Post Traumatic Facebook Jail Disorder!

If you think that what you post on your wall flows out to all your friends on Facebook, have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on SALE! Facebook filters, sells, promotes or suppresses whatever it wants just like the corporate conglomerate that it is. I don’t know what the criteria is, but I do know that Mylie Cyrus shaking her butt is more important than a cure for cancer. Oh, that’s another infomercial, “Cancer Will Come!” And all I have to do to save myself is endure thirty minutes of the “voice” and get my credit card out! This is the most irritating part of Facebook for me. If I am “friends” with someone, i.e. said person has voiced an interest in what I have to say, and you have the HUGE servers out in California or someplace, the very least you could do is pass my messages through! But NO! Mark Stupidberg filters or censors at will, as he tries to micromanage every syllable on the planet! This makes Facebook absolutely worthless to a writer. The bottom line of BEING a writer is that your material simply must be available to be read, even for free! Once the flow of information is filtered, even among consenting adults the value of the service is reduced to that of the ingredients on a gum wrapper.

The addiction. Now, this is weird, because I found myself suffering from it. You catch yourself reaching for the iPad, or iPhone, and forgetting the iBrain! You end up hanging on it, believing in your heart that there simply must be something of value there because there’s just so much going on. If you throw a pound of seed in a garden, and nothing grows but chickens what does that tell you? There ain’t nothing THERE! It’s all cotton candy. You find yourself staring at the iPad, slowly reaching for it, maybe, just maybe there will be something, anything there that will change your life forever, then you touch the screen and there it is! CANCER CURE! Get your credit card out! How do you beat an addiction? Any twelve step program will tell you to first stop taking the drug! Facebook is a drug. Once you break the cycle, and take your life back you can do this experiment; don’t even look at Facebook for a weekend, and then, on Monday, do a quick check. You’ll be surprised. Nothing’s changed, nothing happened, and all the people you normally see are still at the feeding trough hoping “Massa” will throw them some slop.

I have decided to basically divorce Facebook. The only contact I will maintain is passing my articles to Doc Greene’s morning show because I promised him that I would, but virtually every other point of reference will wither and die. I like Twitter because it’s short, sweet, and you don’t expect much. This gives me time to write better articles and send them to places that DO matter such as The Dam Good Times,, and Anyone who truly wishes to read what I have to say can find me at @wiiiilbur on Twitter with links that flow back to blogs NOT Facebook. The proof is in the pudding. Instead of fretting over my latest message on Facebook I wrote THIS article when I had basically taken the day off. How bout THAT? One day at a time, folks, one day at a time!

How I Really Think

I was being facetious when I said I got my feelings hurt yesterday. You’d have to get up pretty early in the morning to hurt my feelings. I’ve been married five times, been run off so many times that I thought PMS meant “pack my stuff.” What happened was I took off after Al Sharpton yesterday. Now, I’m going to go on record. I think Al Sharpton is a shallow minded, race baiting, lying pimp! He scans the headlines for anything he can inject himself into for a tidy sum, and he hasn’t done one thing to improve the human condition, white or black. Anyway, there were two people who took exception to my article, and that’s fine. Now, they didn’t READ the article, or at least didn’t read it with any comprehension. They leaped, like savage rabbits, and played that rusty old race card! THAT always irritates me. For somebody to read something that I’ve written, completely ignore the foundation, and come back with, “Oh, you just saying that ’cause he’s black!” Nigga please! (Is that racist enough for you, honey?)

So I checked out my two opponents. Frankly, today I don’t even remember their names, but the guy actually went to the University of Texas. Now, I’m an old Texas hard liner so that set me back a bit. Kid went to UT so he HAD to have learned SOMETHING! Then I went and checked out the girl. Cute! That goes a long way with me. (Hmmmmm. I might not be a racist but I AM a Chauvinist!) Anyway she made statements that my article wasn’t even an article for various reasons, and mentioned that I had horse whipped the Muslims a week ago also. She harangued my style, my content, and said that I was arrogant. Now, I’m fixing to get real blunt here, reader’s discretion advised! FYI, my own brother made fun of the title of my last book and I haven’t spoke to him for two years.

I write dozens of articles every day. I’ve written four books, three thousand songs, been in Country music for over forty years, and I’m not about to take criticism from some hula girl with a Facebook account! My writing style is actually contrived. I didn’t just stumble upon it one day in the shower. I use a theory I refer to as “circles.” The human mind reaches for completion. THAT’S why a song will get stuck in your head. Because you mind missed something and struggles to complete it. Fifty cents worth of psychiatric input there. That’s also what makes a song work. Verse, verse, chorus, lead riff, verse, chorus and out. Perfect circle! If you study most of my articles you’ll see that pattern almost every time.

There are two more elements. Humor, and simplicity. There are seven things that will construct humor in the brain. My humor is by comparison. Take a situation, paint mental images, easy to remember, with little Texas catch phrases like, “save your fork,” and “swat them bees,” to cement the prose of the article in the readers mind, compare the two and voila! You have humor. I don’t write ANYTHING by accident! Every line, every word is placed exactly where I intended it to be. I don’t use repetitive “ands” but I do throw in slang, and words like “gonna, ain’t,” and even a sloppy double negative here and there, and I do it for a reason. SIMPLICITY! When I address a complex situation I step back, look at it, and ask myself, “Now what is this guy REALLY saying?” Just like my opinion of Al Sharpton. For everything he’s ever said, or written, it all boils down to, “Give me de money!”

You can never predict my position on any matter, because I don’t know my position on any matter until I write it. I didn’t not agree with George Zimmermans shooting of Trayvon Martin, but frankly, I’d have shot Michael Brown from the car! My logic was simple. For all the MMA crap, Martin could NOT knock Zimmerman out. I, myself, been attacked by not one but THREE black thugs in my own driveway, and I didn’t kill anybody, and it’s not because I have the light of sweet Jesus in my eyes. It’s because when you stick a gun in someone’s mouth they go from thug to PHD in two seconds flat! And, oh yeah, I only did that cause they was black! For the record they embarked on a huge conspiracy to steal my cigarettes!

Now let’s jump on the religion thing. Yeah, I’m gonna go there, deal with it. I think most religion is silly. Not God, RELIGION! I was a devout Catholic, and before that I was a devout Baptist. Now I’m just a devout ME! I admire people like my friend Doc Greene who can live their faith and not hurt anyone, but when I see Muslims, the Westboro Baptist Church, and sidewalk, soapbox preachers looking forward to the end of the world like Al Sharpton, you damn well better know that I’m gonna express an opinion! If you want to pray five times a day and never eat a ham sandwich, I’m cool with that, but when you blow an old lady’s head off in the street because of the crazy ramblings of some guy who died sixteen hundred years ago we gotta talk! I SAW David Koresh, and NOT on CNN.

As far as acceptance of my writings? Well, I’m sitting here having a very dry martini, a Roosevelt Peter, smoking a Nicaraguan cigar on the porch of one of my three houses. So, to address that young lady from yesterday with a mouth full of opinions, yeah honey, I’m a bit arrogant. Matter of fact I’d like to run a few martins through you and see what pops out the other end. When you get past sixty or so you become pretty much settled in your opinions. You tend to view the world with a pretty jaundiced eye, but mainly you see things and people for what they really are.

I pulled out of Glozens yesterday because I knew that anyone small minded enough to address my articles in such a fashion would probably run to Facebook like a little child and I’d go to Facebook jail (again.) I’ve got books to sell. Martinis and cigars cost MONEY, and I don’t have the gig the REVEREND Al Sharpton has. I have to budget.

The Fire Down Below

Facebook is like a pretty girlfriend who is a real good time, but she cheats, and you put up with her for the few hours that she’s good for. I put up a status last night laying out a new plan for my Facebook account, but had to rethink it. I watched a video explaining how the website cherry picks what gets forwarded to various various News Feeds, and it was, well, enlightening.

Like most of you, I thought Facebook worked like a text message where you send, and it goes, and that’s that. Au Contraire! The man on the video explained that he had up to about one hundred and eighty thousand “likes.” He assumed when he put something on his page that it automatically filtered through to these people who had previously indicated they were interested in what he had to say. Nope! He talked to someone at Facebook, and was informed that only about two thousand or so got to see his posts at any given time. If I had a publisher that did that I would find another publisher!

In addition to that, if the people “liking” you don’t comment or share for a period of time, Facebook will conveniently “unlike” them for you. How special is that? I was a bit disturbed. My only reason to be on Facebook is to have a convenient ramp to push my articles, and hopefully sell a few books. Facebook had reduced itself to about the level of those things you find on a boar hog that are of absolutely no use at all. You’d think the biggest website in history would be able to compose a sub routine that would simply pass notes through with no fanfare, but then you must remember it was conceived by a guy inventorying girl’s faces, i.e. “Facebook!”

So, what to do? Well, first off we must perceive reality. Facebook is useless as a publishing medium. Remember that girlfriend? Great the night before, gone in the morning! Like her, use Facebook for what it’s good for. Stop having dreams of glory, imagining millions of followers hanging on your every word, or pictures of your lunch. Create smaller circles of manageable groups that you can be reasonably sure will read what you write, but don’t depend on Facebook to do ANYTHING! The girlfriend will never cook you breakfast. If you are having a discussion in a private group, where the people there are interacting with you BINGO! If you think more than ten people are going to read your next “status” you are spitting in the wind. Learn it, live it, love it! Save your best stuff for private blogs. WordPress, Google Plus, and others are out there. As you develop as a writer your audience will grow. If you get lucky, and some nice people actually PRINT your words in a physical newspaper and that is great. I get more reads from the Dam Good Times, from intelligent people in one month that I’ve gotten from two years of posting on Facebook. Write a book! Self publish. Then lead people back to that every chance you get. Books, magazines and newspapers are not dead! Brain dead Lemmings comb Facebook for wisdom. Thinking people read the Dam Good Times! They also read the local paper, and those shock rags you find at the checkout stand in the supermarket, but the very act of picking up something, thumbing through it, reading, and considering puts them hands above someone on an iPad sharing a picture of a cat flipping on Facebook!

Are you swatting them bees yet? Facebook creates the illusion that we “need” it. We begin to dread “Facebook Jail” as if our lives will be put on hold if we can’t post some drivel about a crazy cop, or a picture of some girl falling down in the street, and all the while some faceless mime sits out there in cyberspace censoring our every thought over a cup of espresso.

In due time Facebook will be a memory. Even Disney studios saw its better days. How’s your MySpace thing doing? Someone, somewhere will come up with something new, something better, and you will see that girlfriend jump on the back of a Harley one day, ride away, and never come back. That is the law of the jungle. IBM laughed at Steve Jobs. Do any of you out there even have an IBM computer? How long has it been since you SAW a typewriter? You saw that woman selling newspapers on the street corner this morning, now didn’t you? I hate to cite my years in this game, but I’ve seen ’em come, and I’ve seen ’em go. They got one thing in common, they got the fire down below.

Crow is Crow

Good morning Raging Elephants! As some of you may know I had a flash of inspiration over the weekend. It may come as a shock to you, but I have been middle of the road when it comes to Muslims. The media, especially Facebook, had girded their loins so to speak, and attacked anyone who even suggested that Mohammed may have picked his nose. I was very aware of this, and softened my opinions about Islam accordingly. I took one hit because someone attacked Molly White and I commented with the word, “Omar?” Facebook deemed that was a slur on Islam, and slammed me in Facebook jail. While I didn’t exactly put a pistol in my mouth, this alerted me to the fact that my main ramp could be cut off at any time.

To avert this I did two things. First, I softened my criticism of Islam steering clear of the central issue that it’s a political system and not a religion in the classical sense. Also, I used a lot of humor, and Texas slang because I know Liberal Democrats do not possess a frontal lobe. Now, let’s be up front. All religions have a political wing. There is no separation of church and state. The very purpose of “religion” is to chart a moral course for life, and that course just naturally bleeds over to the public sector. To separate morality from politics is an oxymoron. Hmmmm, maybe that’s the problem here, but I digress.

Islam is pure politics, and that’s cool, but when a political party shields itself with our constitutional protection of freedom of religion, while the rest of us have to play by the rules, the playing field is not only uneven, the referees are all on the payroll of the opposing team. When some kid can’t read a Bible in school while some other kid sits in the same room wearing a weird head dress you have to ask yourself some serious questions, and you have to be ALLOWED to ask those questions out LOUD and publicly!

And let’s be more frank. Islam IS weird! We’re not talking about a Mormon who wears the garment as a symbol of purity, or a Jew who won’t eat pork, we’re talking about a group of people who get up in the morning and ask themselves how they can be as obnoxious as they can possibly be! I’ve read the Qu’ran. It is a hodge podge of psycho-babble that is so disconnected even the Muslims had to rearrange it by length if Sura. And that rearrangement made no difference. It would be like rearranging Gone With The Wind according to length of chapters, and trying to make sense of it. I believe in Jesus, but Jesus made me a writer, and when I read a book I will tell you exactly how that book was written. And it WAS written! No angel came down and slapped Mohammed whereupon he began to recite anything! I am a realist, and brothers and sisters, if you believe that have I got a bridge for you and it’s on SALE! If you are mystified by anything then you just don’t understand the trick! Want to know how I write a book? I write the last chapter first, and then write everything else to support THAT chapter! No magic, no genius, no inspiration, though I will admit that I’ve had a bottle of Jim and some very serious conversations with my cat. Well, Frenchi was a vision, but I’m digressing again. Hey, it’s Monday!

Now let’s factor in TEXAS! Pushing your agenda down the throats of New Yorkers, where they step over dead homeless people on their way to Wall Street is all very fine, but Muslim Day on the steps of the Capitol in Austin is a whole other armadillo! We just broke ourselves from dragging people behind pickups down here! Eighty percent of us can’t even SPELL Mohammed, and I probably misspelled it right there! We are NOT going to tell Judge Potvin he’s got to abide by Sharia Law. Ain’t gonna happen! That’ll get you thirty days and you can tell all the other inmates about your freedom of religion

The problem is political correctness. The minority of Texans are Democrats and RINOs. The SILENT majority is dyed in Bar B Q, hard core working men and women who are just that . . . silent! That silence is evident when you have a rally for the border problem, and twenty-five people show up what an aerobics class for diabetes fills the Capitol grounds to the point that you’d think Willie Nelson was there. It’s not that there weren’t people in that event who didn’t believe exactly what we Texas Nationalists believe, it’s that they have have been conditioned not to speak up! If those people had hung around and listened to George Rodriguez they would have totally agreed with him, but the RINOs, and Liberal Democrats have CONDITIONED them to shy back with the rest of us, and drink the Kool Aid of political correctness. Now, I don’t want to get RACIAL about this, but if you want to push an agenda just get a bunch of mad Mexicans on your team, and get out of the way! That’s part of being a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin. Knowing simple stuff like that.

Wendy Davis learned simple stuff back during her three legged race to the unemployment line. She tooled around Dallas, running dead babies up the flagpole two at a time, and the Liberal Democrats thought that was cool, but when she went down to the valley, and tried to talk a bunch or Mexican Catholics into killing their kids, people who had NEVER voted in their LIFE found their way to the polls! And that’s a fact JACK! I said it when she did it, and she found her way to a very clearly defined cover of Texas Monthly. I just love it when I’m right. I wish them bees Wendy is swatting would eat that wart off her face.

Bottom line is I’m not shinning the shoes of some kid out in California who got lucky with a web site. Between blogs, Chrystal Lee Larimore, and Raging Elephants I will get my stuff out! Facebook does NOT run the world. As long as Stupidberg continues to allow me to post ill be here. If I offend his Eminence, I’ll just shift gears and go right on. Roy Acuff didn’t stop me and Facebook won’t either. I had a good teacher. While I was working at Apple, Walmart approached Steve Jobs and wanted to sell iMacs in their stores. Only problem was that wanted a WALMART iMac! Less hard disk space, lower memory, fewer features. Steve told them an Apple is an Apple, and their will be no oranges. Well, Walmart said no Apple product would ever be in one of their stores. Do I need to go on. Crow is crow, fired or Bar B Q’d!

Facebook Etiquette

Expanding on one of my previous articles, I’d like to expound on my Facebook theory. First, and foremost you must remember that the medium was developed to link up with family, and it made sharing pictures and information easier than maintaining your own web page. Of course it blew way out of proportion after that, but the basic theory still holds.

There are so many things you can do with Facebook now that if you play it right it is a fairly good utility. There are things I do, and a few things I DON’T do when interacting with Facebook. You can conform your Facebook to meet your own needs, and by no means will my ideas fit everyone, but each thing I do has been from trial and error, and I’ve made some mistakes. The mark of intelligence is not making the same mistake over and over again. So here goes.

It took me a while to understand the Facebook wall. In the beginning I imagined a real WALL like out in LA with graffiti all over it. When my posts kept scrolling it really threw me off. Once I understood that it was more if a ticker tape than a wall I began to post accordingly. Like almost everybody else I put a lot of information on the wall better left in my head. To begin with my entire FAMILY was on Facebook and any small error I made got instant retribution from one or more of them. Being on Facebook with family is a little like having them live in the house with you. Did you ever wonder why a lot of families don’t live with each other? Because they don’t LIKE each other, THAT’S why! You tolerate them during holidays because it’s a brief visit and they go HOME when it’s over. Facebook never goes home. So, I slowly developed my first rule. NEVER discuss family on Facebook. This is the cyber age equivalent of “hanging out your dirty laundry.” And putting such things on Facebook is like standing in the street and screaming about how dirty your laundry is to every passing motorist!

I never talk about personal problems. Nobody CARES baby! Especially mental problems. If you discuss your frame of mind you just look stupider, and stupider as Facebook consigns you to the loony bin. Now, simple questions are allowed. I mean stuff like does anyone in your area have a power cord for your five year old laptop. That’s the utility part. But when you start crying over being broke, or arrested, or divorced you are just walking around in your cyber underwear.

Statuses should be kept simple, and to the point. Now i break this rule later in this article but, as you will see, I have my reasons for this and they’re not bad, just my conforming Facebook to my particular needs. A good status is attending an event and posting comments and pictures about said event for people who may have an interest therein. A bad status is discussing your flu in glorious detail.

Sharing is nice. As I scan the news and the feeds on Facebook I find things that support whatever agenda I’m into at the time. Try to space it though. After fifteen or so postings about ISIS throw in a baby playing with a dog or something. Recipes are also good. Occasionally I’ll come up with something good and feel the urge to put the recipe on my wall. People like that.

Language and violence. Remember I told you the original concept of Facebook? Keep that in mind. Posting things like horse whipping the president’s daughter will draw you some attention, trust me! If you want to lampoon Obamacare, that’s fine, but keep it civil. You’ll attract more supporters to your cause

Arguing in the comments section. In a word, don’t. When I post an article, on occasion someone will call me out. I’m always polite, thank them for the comment and they rant, and rant, and rant. Respectfully disagree. And please don’t get a long thread going and then delete it because things didn’t work out the way you thought they should have. I hate that. First off, if the thread is huge you have a good post. Thought provoking. Go with it. That makes for good reading and I mean, what are we here for in the first place? Losing a discussion only hones your skills, and just perhaps makes you aware of a position you hadn’t considered. But don’t argue, discuss! oh, and NEVER insult or ridicule a commenter. I’ve profoundly disagreed with someone on Facebook who turned out to be one heck of a nice guy, or gal. We just disagreed on that one point!

I really like the check in feature. I USE it. Like today. I’m driving to Austin, in the sleet, to pick up a laptop. I WANT my Facebook friends and family to know where I am. That, and since I never go anywhere I’m ashamed of, I have no problem with posting locations, and even pictures. If something should happen its very nice to have a record of where you were, and what you were doing at a particular time. Check in is a plus.

Using the friend feature. I went on a friend binge some time back. You’ve seen the deal. Facebook gives you this, “People you may know” thing. Invariably I get these incredibly hot women. Well, I don’t know any twenty year old bombshells who want to be MY friend, ok? After getting slapped by Facebook I didn’t friend for a WHILE. Then I slowly came back and would look at the suggestions. I friend people with my last name, friends of friends, and I mean REAL friends. Friends you’ve MET and touched their hand. I will accept friendship from a young, pretty girl, but I try to NEVER send such a request. Girls like that have no interest in old men trolling Facebook! Oh, and I vet these types of friends. If you look,at some girl’s page, it’s two weeks old, and she’s friending every guy in sight, then that’s a Nigerian. Don’t accept that. Never EVER email such a person who gives you a private email during the first private message. Reddest of flags. And don’t “Check out her web page” with pictures she DIDN’T see fit to post on Facebook! The NSA is watching!

When an established friend asks me to “like” a page I almost always do. A simple “like” is the least you can do in support of someone you’ve had an ongoing discussion with. Now, if the page is going on about denying the Holocaust, don’t “like” that! You’ll look as nutty as your friend. Might want to check a little deeper into THAT friend. Generally “likes” are cool. Everybody needs a pat on the back now and again.

Primarily I use Facebook as a ramp for articles. I have several pages and groups that I follow and when I write an article I pick the ones who may have an interest in that piece and send it up. If a group doesn’t approve an article I don’t take it personally. It’s THEIR deal and THEY know what they’re looking for. I try to stay within the parameters I understand they have set. 99.9% of my Status postings are articles. If I come up with a clever line I never waste it on a one line status. I store it on my notes in my iPad, and return when I can expand the idea. Usually the clever line ends up being the title of the article.

There are many more things I could add, but I think you get the drift, and even have a few ideas of your own. Like I said at the onset my ideas are not a one size fits all rule book. Be flexible. THINK. The main thing is take Facebook for what it is. A UTILITY. A tool! Use the hammer wisely and you will drive a nail. Get careless and you’ll hit your thumb. Happy Facebooking!

About Me

All my stuff is original, right off the top of my head, and I wrote the piece about Texas Independence yesterday just after the Round Table. I write “off the cuff” and call myself “A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin.” That way, if I foul up I can always say, “Hey, I TOLD you I was stupid!” Originally I was a song writer, adult country humor to be exact. Although I’d written three books I didn’t consider myself a prose writer. I put one or two little comments up on Doc Greene’s chat room. I’d always had several Facebook pages, but never developed them. Little by little I began to expand the comments to articles and put them up on various pages and groups. A friend of mine suggested I do a blog. I’ve always considered a blog to be a poor man’s publishing, but it took little effort so I ran one. Then someone suggested that I string the articles together and do a book, so I did. I published through Amazon, which is another poor man’s effort, but the price is right. I wasn’t particularly happy with the layout, and getting them to accept the cover was an ordeal, but the words were all there. That, and the fact that I wrote the book on an iPhone. Published it from an iPhone too. How cool is THAT? I began to attend political events, and drawing upon what I was writing I actually had something to say. The stats began to pile up and I realized this was working, which was never my intention at all. Bear in mind I was retired after a career in Nashville and Austin. Divorced, I had been living with my son out in California and hanging out near Ocatillo Wells. My ambition was to have Martinis with co-eds and play guitar on the beach. I migrated back to Texas, and ended up taking care of my five grandchildren which my ex had adopted and actually looking after her husband who had been diagnosed with Agent Orange and cancer. He actually subscribed to my blogs and began to discuss Texas politics with me. The man has three bronze stars and a purple heart. When I would tell him I was “thinking” about going to some rally he’d rush out, buy me a new suit of clothes (I’m a desert rat) and insist that I go! They eventually moved up to Salt Lake and left me to care for the two houses back in Texas. (So much for retirement.)

So, I began a routine of putting up an article a day on Raging Elephants and various groups and blogs and sitting on the porch composing on my iPhone, none of which I took very seriously. I made the style simple so the average reader could understand. I would take an issue, step back, look at it, and ask, “What’s REALLY going on here?” Originally I made it salty. Since I was a song writer I made the articles “go ’round in ‘circles.” I used key phrases like, “Swat them bees,” and “Save your fork,” to alert the reader. I read a lot, but I don’t do research per sae outside of checking the correct spelling of someone’s name and the reason I do that is if I can’t understand and remember then how can I expect the reader to? I learn by listening to people who obviously have more comprehension than I, and for the most part they have been very supportive.

I never argue, and I’m never rude. I’m very aware that I’m a beginner with absolutely NO training. I’d end up on a radio show with some guy who had more degrees than a thermometer and i didn’t have the background to debate a brisket recipe, much less the New World Order! About the worse I’ve ever done is to ask a professor on Michael Bee’s show, who was expounding his theory of the black tribes in Africa civilizing Egypt and the western world, why I couldn’t find any great pyramids in the Congo. (He told me the Illuminati had “cloaked” them!)

Being an adult humorist I originally used very salty language, but began to pull back as I realized people were actually READING my stuff! My first book on this subject, “A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin” was so so, but I’m now putting together a second book, “I Crappith Thee NOT,” in which I will zero in more on style, and content.

I don’t expect to hit the best seller list. I am retired and between me, and my husband in law we have three homes. The old sarge is hanging on for dear life because he wants to get a place out in SoCal and have me to take him sand railing across the Mojave Desert before he dies. The way I look at it I will never get an honorable mention in the New York Times, but hey . . .I live in Texas! You can buy a lot of beer with 50,000 sales!

I am always grateful for people who put up with me, and I learn from greater minds than my own. Just yesterday I had a group of people sitting around listening to the round table and one of them asked,”What are you going to say?” I grinned, looked at him and replied, “I have absolutely NO idea. Ain’t that a bitch?” But just like years ago in Nashville, when the curtain goes up it’s SHOWTIME!