I Believe


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Arrested For Driving While Blind


Arrested for driving while blind. Friends and neighbors, brothers and sisters, that old ZZ Top line is about the only thing I haven’t done, and I’ve done it all. If there is anything I missed, it’s only because no one told me about it. If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck. I have been in country music for forty plus years, and I mean the real music business. I wasn’t just hanging around some bar, hoping my family might drop in and hear me play a guitar, I was a writer, and I wrote my way all the way to Nashville. Unless you’ve been living under a big yellow rock you’ve probably heard something I have written.

My mother once told me that if I ever hurt a decent girl she’d beat me to death with an iron skillet, so for the first four marriages (yeah, I said four) I married sluts. Number five was a thirty year ordeal, where I kept trying to leave, and she kept following. We finally divorced, but she wouldn’t let me leave, so here I am. As time and tears went by I began to settle down. There were two major factors contributing to this: One, I got too damn old, and two, I got tired of making bail. Somehow I came through all of this with my health, which is a miracle, because I quit drinking when they invented the funnel. Today I will still take a little Jim Beam, but nowhere near my glory days. I’m partial to a martini.

So where am I going with all of this? It’s simple actually. I see people all the time living in the past. They had a bad childhood. Let me tell you about a bad childhood. I am certified white trash. The first time I saw a fruit display on a formal table I tried to eat the wax apple. I hear someone on Doctor Phil going on and on about an abusive father, but let me school you, my dad was a roofer in Texas for thirty years, and being a roofer in Texas is about as bad a job as you can get, if you don’t count being a slave. My dad wouldn’t whip us, he’d knock us through the wall. Good news was that we were quick, and he only had to knock us through one wall for us kids to catch on. We were so poor we thought the people on welfare had government jobs because they had a check!

Human beings become better through ordeal. Steel becomes stronger through tempering. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Texas has never been easy. This is hard country out here. Our wages are low, and our hours are long, but we know the deal. You really have to believe in God, because if you don’t then none of this makes any sense. I couldn’t understand a word of the Bible until I was thirty-five years old. We had that old King James Version, and with all the “Thees” and “Thous” I just couldn’t connect the dots. Life connected the dots for me. I began to realize that if you cast your bread upon the water you’d get back a sandwich.

Writers are a special lot. For me, writing is therapy. As the words form on the page I vocalize, and when I vocalize, I begin to see the logic, and understand not only other people, but my own situation. I don’t believe in all this psychiatry stuff, and theories, or drugs, or mind control. I believe that most thinking people, over fifty years, can figure out what hurts, and what doesn’t hurt. You begin to see that there is room in the world for other ideas, and just because you don’t agree with them, they are just ideas. When I hear a liberal expounding some whacky “Bernie Sanders” plan, I know it won’t work, but rather than go tit for tat I understand that it’s all fine because good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, they’ll have the same fifty years that I had to figure it all out. It’s all so simple. This will put a meal on the table, and that won’t.

I do understand the Bible now, but there’s a lot of “fluff” in it. The truths that Jesus spoke of were down to earth facts. Don’t judge. I never judge! When someone does something that I think is bad, I’ll just remember back when I did exactly the same thing, and be glad the statute of limitations has run out. We have all fallen short of the glory, and I fell short the day the doctor said, “Hey,” and I said, “Huh?”

It all boils down to this: You get what you expect. If you dwell in the past you will always be there. If you set goals, no matter how remote, you may not get there, but you’ll be on the way, and the journey is half the joy. We all make mistakes. What seemed so serious back then, will just be funny as you recount it to a friend at a local pub. The sad part of life is if you live long enough to figure it out then you’ll come to the same conclusions that I did after you are old, and young people have it all “figured out,” and will not listen as they begin their journey toward “the truth.”

If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck, because I’ve done it all, and if there’s anything I missed it’s only because no one told me about it, and I’m man enough to admit it! I’ve found one person who totally understands me. She sleeps with me, eats with me, agrees with everything I say, and cries when I’m away. In the spirit of the recent Supreme Court ruling on marriage I have decided to marry my dog.

That Was The Week That Was

http://www.teapartytribune.com/2016/01/24/that-was-the-week-that-was/That 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



Religion is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. That’s a quote from my book, “Sharon,” and I’ve cited that hundreds of times in my writings. In my spiritual travels I’ve gone from Southern Baptist, to Islam, to Catholicism, never atheist, but sometimes agnostic, and after many considerations I’ve come to two conclusions. In a brilliant stroke, I decided that there is a God, and we, as created beings will never totally understand that entity. Having arrived at those two ideas, I’ve seen the fallacy of religion.
We all have a “God Hole” in our head. If a new born child were to never be told of God, before it died, it would attempt to fill that hole with something. Coming together as groups, we share this information with each other, and the ideas begin to form. Simple facts are the foundation. It is logical to assume that a God who took all the time and trouble to create the known universe wouldn’t work even harder to destroy it. The master plan seems to be boy meets girl, come together, make more little people, who go on to do the same thing without hurting other people who are trying to do the same thing.
Therein lies the main problem with religion. As long as the rules are, “Praise the Lord, and don’t cheat, lie, or steal,” everything is well and good. When it evolves to special underwear, stone someone to death because you didn’t like what they said, or special passes to “Holy Places,” religion moves away from God, and toward something else. Jesus said, “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Let me tell you how that works. You start with a clean slate. As time goes by you set the rules by which you live, and you expect others to live also. It only goes to follow that you begin to impose these rules, and if you are religious, then you find a group that is like minded such as Mormons, Primitive Baptists, or Muslims. When you face the day of judgement, and the books are open, you stand there with your face hanging out and Jesus says, “DUDE! I’m just playing by the rules you set.” If you have a forgiving heart the test is easy. If you are judgmental, prideful, or hateful, then that will be the standard by which you are judged.
As religion applies layer upon layer to the onion, from the outside people can see the issues. Belief in a creator is all fine, but belief in layers of heaven, golden plates, women in sack dresses, or distain of food or drink puts a burden on people and the Imams, Stake Presidents, or TV evangelists won’t life a finger to help with the load. Your God Hole just got filled with garbage. The garbage becomes more important than the very reason for the hole in the first place, which is to let you find, and understand who you are, more importantly, who He is.
This is the message of Jesus. Do unto others, love God, love your neighbors, these are the things that matter. Quanell X said something on Tommy’s Garage that I found very profound. He said that it made him think when he had to walk through the streets of Houston, seeing starving children, on his way to meet with leaders of the Islamic community who were wining and dining like a flock of Pharisees. I think the word Jesus used was hypocrite. Like the song says, “Someone to be better than just anytime you please.” Religion is man’s feeble attempt …

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


Time Was

Time was when you could write, or say anything so long as you didn’t threaten someone or incite violence. The idea of free speech was foundational to the republic. If you were out in left field everyone would just think you were stupid and ignore you.

Time was when every little Texas town had a homosexual or two and nobody cared. They stayed off to themselves and the lady’s garden society loved them. They didn’t march in the street, or jail little old ladies for exercising their conscience. We all laughed at Paul Lynn, and listened to Liberace.

Time was when you could swat your kids on the butt in the grocery store and everyone approved you as a good parent. Your kids weren’t taught sex in school, and daddy was still the greatest, because he was dad, and every little girl wanted to grow up, and marry someone just like him.

Time was, when stopped for a traffic stop, you would get out of the car and take out your driver’s license as you walked back to the officer, who appreciated your courtesy and respect. Police got free coffee and food because merchants wanted them to come around. An officer rarely raised his voice, and he was almost always right, because he really did serve and protect.

Time was you could carry your guns in a rack in your pickup and nobody but the deer cared. The very idea that you couldn’t defend your family and home because black lives mattered was alien. Your family’s life mattered, and that was that. Your home was your castle and the fourth amendment meant exactly what it said.

Time was when the president said something you respected it even if you didn’t agree because he was the president. Everyone knew politicians would put a spin on things, but in the end they knew that America was America, the flag was the flag, and they worked for the people of America, not the UN. If they’d ever heard of a “Benghazi” they would have thought it was a James Bond movie.

Time was when a teacher sent a note home you sided with the teacher simply because she WAS the teacher. The first words out of your parent’s mouths would be, “What did you do?”

Time was if you missed church everybody knew it and one of the routine questions you asked a new friend was what faith they followed because there simply wasn’t anyone who didn’t believe in God.

Time was when you found that your favorite movie star was getting a divorce you were shocked because personally you only knew one person who ever got one and everyone treated them as if they had tuberculosis.

Time was if you stood on the constitution in court or anywhere else it was a no brainer because everyone knew the constitution was the constitution and that was that. The language in the Bill of Rights was so simple that any farmer could understand it.

Time was when a woman stayed home and took care of the kids she was known as a good mother, and raised her girls that way, too.

Time was when the preacher would drop by if word got out that a family was having difficulties.

Time was when a dollar was inscribed “Silver Certificate” and stood for an honest dollar which would buy enough gasoline for three days work.

Time was if you didn’t have a job you just went to jail until you figured it out. This is the world I lived in in 1957 in Shreveport. Time was…

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin



Relationships are difficult to understand. What sets off attraction is a complex maze of chemistry, psychology and desire. You have no control over these factors but you do have control over how you react to them. Chemical changes in the brain have been supported by studies that can be verified. The heart can only be verified when it is broken.

You’ll never get over love. The pain you feel at separation will never go away. I fell in love with someone a long time ago and even today the mention of her name will mist my eyes. One so loved becomes larger than life and they become a very real part of your being.

No medicine, no philosophy, no religion will save you from this. They are all empty words that will not quiet your passion nor sooth your soul. If there is betrayal or if the love is unreturned you will seek oblivion. As time passes this too will pass but the feeling will always be there just below the surface.

Man has an intellectual ability to understand this and if not rise above it at least live with it. These feelings fulfill you. Great art comes from these feelings. That’s what makes us human. There should be no guilt because you loved a woman. Love is never wrong, it’s what you do with it that makes it right or wrong. Good love will build you up and a bad love will tear you down.

There are those who will try to reason you away from your feelings but their words will fall upon deaf ears. You, and only you will make the choice to walk away and it will hurt. Willie Nelson wrote, “If guilt is the question, then truth is the answer, and I’ve been lying to me all along.”

There is no rhyme or reason to love. It is something you must work out for yourself. The good news is that one day the sun will rise and though the one so lost will always cause you a moment of reflection it will sustain you not destroy you and you will in fact be stronger for it.

You may never find another or perhaps you will but the most important thing is to find yourself. Once you discover yourself you will understand that no woman, no religion or no mantra can make or break you. Be YOU! Everything else is only commentary.

Check out Wilbur Witt at http://www.amazon.com

Kid From Simmonsville

Somewhere there’s some old black men
‘Round an iron stove, drinking beer
Talking ‘bout places that they have been
A long, long way from here
And every line in their worried brow
Shows a lifetime of being used
Every inch in every mile
Between a love song and the blues.

It is very important to never forget where you come from. All the events and forces, both internal, and external that made you what you are make up the structure of your life, spirit, mind and understanding. When you deny these things you deny self, and when you deny self you have nothing left. Going home will surprise you. The very things you fought so hard to get away from welcome you with open arms, and you wonder why you ever left in the first place.
The ambition of every kid from Simmonsville was to get out of Simmonsville. The little hamlet in Central Texas was a hodge podge of blacks, Mexicans, and poor white trash, myself being the latter. We didn’t know we were poor white trash, we thought we had it going on. Never mind the fact that none of us had ever seen a color TV, and our shoes smelled bad, we had an equal chance to be president someday. We were delusional.
I kissed my first girl in Simmonsville. Pam Burns. She was a short blonde with a red coat and a booger in her nose. I crappith thee not! When I smacked her I saw it. Still, it was a learning experience. If you were from Simmonsville you had to date girls from Simmonsville. That’s ‘cause you had no money and only girls like that would forgive. They’d be happy with a forty-five cent burger from Burger Chef, and didn’t mind riding in the trunk to get into the drive in movie.
Everybody’s dad had a job in construction, and they were all drunks. That just went with the territory. Back in those days a six-pack was a very big deal. Whiskey was sold by the half pint, and the beer was terrible. Boys always drink the beer their dad drank, and our dads all drank some rank stuff. The beer they drank is long gone because there are laws now. The plan of action was to get girls like Pam Burns drunk. It never worked out. Never try to get a white trash Texas girl drunk. She’ll go from flirt to fight in sixty seconds and doesn’t mind walking home from the movie, whereupon her dad comes looking for you. Forget all that nonsense about assault on a minor, RUN!
If you got lucky you had to get married. Just the way it was. If you got married your life was sealed. Oh, it’s great for about the first week, and then the realization of your social status comes home and there you sit with a girl who has a booger in her nose, only now she’s pregnant. Time and tears go by and one day you are sitting in your truck, out in the yard (no driveways folks) drinking the same beer your dad did, and you begin to understand!
I never married a girl from Simmonsville. I had a habit of marrying Yankees. Been through six or so. In Texas you are allowed to marry up to seven times. I have one more tag left on my “Dear” license, better make the last a good one! Went back to Simmonsville some time ago. It was cold, and I ended up in one of those abode huts that still dot around here and there. There were a bunch of guys there, and they had this old potbellied stove. They had cut up come two by fours, and were feeding them into the stove, passing a bottle around, and of course, there was beer. It was like I never left. New York, L. A. and Austin never happened, and I was just “Billy.” They weren’t impressed by anything I’d written, but they did like some of the dirty songs I’d recorded thirty years ago. I left, got in my Mercedes, and drove away. As I pulled out onto the highway I looked back. I wondered, “Who am I?” Why, in spite of it all, I’m really just a kid from Simmonsville.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


How To Be A Writer 101

During a get together last night someone posed the question all writers dread. “How much money have you made?” This will throw the unseasoned off, and result in everything from excuses to outright anger, but I’ve been doing this a long time, and said, “Not a cent.” I’m not a real writer, I’m more of an accidental tourist. My entire writing career has been backing into a corner, and writing my way out. My patent advice to beginners is if you are writing for money stop, and sell snow cones. You’ll make more.

You must write because you enjoy it. If the dollar signs are before your eyes composition becomes laborious, and that will work its way into your material. For me writing an article is like painting a picture. You do the whole thing, and then go back putting a dab here, a dab there, until you get what you want. The whole picture must fit. When I dream up a subject I pretty much have the entire concept in my head, and the resulting article is the summation thereof.

You have to learn the craft. I wrote music for years, and finally got that down to where I could churn out a fairly good song, but I’ve only been in political satire for about two years. I’m still in training. That, and I have a high school education from Killeen, Texas, and that’s just about as illiterate as you can get and they still let you drive a car. I know absolutely nothing about composition, subject-verb agreement, proper English, or adjectives. What I do know is how to turn a phrase, use sixty-four years of common sense, and poke fun at liberals who don’t know what sex they are.

You all know the famous writers, King, Hemmingway, and Grisham. Those are rare. If you are going to be a successful writer, i.e. write every day and get read you have to be successful in your own right. Mine was real estate. By dumb luck I formed a company with my wife and sold a boat load of real estate. In the process I became versed in real estate law, and brothers and sisters, I ain’t kidding. I have sat before the Texas Real Estate Commission, representing brokers twelve times and schooled them! The only time I ever lost was when we used a lawyer (Ted Smith) and his brilliance cost me forty-six thousand dollars. The fact is, if you are going to write you must experience life else you have nothing to write about. In Nashville all beginning songwriters go on endlessly about “paying dues,” and the life of a songwriter. I just wrote songs about loose women and bad whiskey because I knew all about that, and couldn’t find the Grand Ol’ Opry with a GPS!

All my stuff is original, right off the top of my head. 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!” Like I said, I was a song writer, adult country humor to be exact. Although I’d written three books I didn’t consider myself to be much of 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. As you may have seen yesterday I have divorced Facebook, but, just like a real divorce, she keeps coming around, so we’ll see how that goes. Facebook is worthless to me, but I want to bring my reader base over to more productive formats. Anyway, I kept making comments on Doc’s chat room and 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 just love it when someone gets on me about my punctuation, not realizing I write mostly on an iPhone, in the morning, with dirty glasses. Go Figure!

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 Ocotillo 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 writing 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. After I wrote something I read it out loud. This is an old songwriter’s trick. The article must go around in circles. The human mind looks for conclusion. You start, explain, and end up right back where you started. Hammer that nail! The reason for reading out loud is to make the prose smooth. Forget everything some college English teacher ever told you. If they knew anything about writing they’d be in the New York Times list and not teaching in some Po-Dunk junior college out in Coryell County, Texas! I regularly use “don’t” for “doesn’t,” double negatives, and I’m real fond of the word, “ain’t,” because that’s what Bubba sitting in his F-150 with his copy of the Dam Good Times understands!

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 most of the time I’m not rude, unless you count putting up “Leatherface,” and making a racial slur, yeah, I done that. 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 black history (I’m from Texas, so I simply must be a racist, right?) ! 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 was hanging on for dear life because he wanted to get a place out in SoCal and have me to take him sand railing across the Mojave Desert before he died. He always told me, “The best is yet to come.” Maybe he knew something I didn’t.

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. Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin is the personification of a philosophy. If you are going to write you must divorce ego. I am really simple, as are most people. I have no remote idea how many people read my stuff. I know my one reader, my mother no longer does because she’s dead. I have never in my life ran into someone at the supermarket that ever read anything I ever wrote. Pump up your ego and you’ll get your feeling hurt quick!

Once, when I attended a meeting where I spoke, when I emerged someone was asking me all kinds of questions about my opinions about this and that, and using words I didn’t understand. I told her, “Well, I don’t know nothing about all of that, but they sure got some good samiches in there.” Guess she didn’t like the cuisine, because she left.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


The Talents

” . . . unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey. Then he that had received the five talents went and traded with the same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord’s money. After a long time the lord of those servants cometh, and reckoneth with them. And so he that had received five talents came and brought other five talents, saying, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents:behold, I have gained beside them five talents more. His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant:thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things:enter thou into the joy of thy lord. He also that had received two talents came and said, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me two talents:behold, I have gained two other talents beside them. His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things:enter thou into the joy of thy lord. Then he which had received the one talent came and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou hast not strawed: And I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in the earth:lo, there thou hast that is thine. His lord answered and said unto him, Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not strawed: Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which hath ten talents. For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance:but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.”

Being a writer is a hard life. First, you must learn to write, which is no easy task. There are thousands of cackle-babble heads out there who think they know all about writing. They know nothing about communication, but they got writing all figured out. They have it so figured out so much that no one can tell what they’re talking about. Talk for thirty minutes, ain’t said anything! I ain’t even gonna lie to you, when I’m reading something, the first time I have to Google a word I go to another website. Simplicity! Dance with the one who brung you. When you can write like you speak, you’re THERE! That doesn’t mean be ignorant. It means make your meaning clear. It’s always nice to pick up a thing or two, but never try to rise above your readers.

Then there’s money. The nemesis of the budding writer. Everybody wants to be Hemmingway. Most won’t, and that’s what this article is all about. God, if you buy into that stuff, gives us abilities, or talents. We’re expected to use those talents, and money has nothing to do with it. Money is the Devil’s trick trying to tell us we aren’t successful unless we make a lot of money. Then, if you do make a lot of money he convinces you that you can never be happy. When people become well off or famous watch the stupid factor. (Subway anyone?) The writer quickly becomes entwined in the idea that unless he or she makes a lot of money the product they produce is somehow worth less than a more lubricated writer. The only thing that matters is are you using the talents you were given.

Publishing is perplexing. All it really does is put your writing before the public. When the first stranger reads your writing you have succeeded. If thousands read you, great, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is are you using those talents, and are you giving back to the world for all the free air you got to breathe! If you give up because you didn’t get some big deal you are not using the talents.

It’s hard. You will want to give up. Don’t. The fulfillment of a well written article is the end game. You may never make a dime, but after years of filling the pot you will make a difference, sometimes great, sometimes not so great, but fifty years after you’re dead some,twelve year old girl will read something you wrote and somewhere in the great beyond you will hear, ” Well done, thou good and faithful servant!” That’s what it’s all about!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin



Listen for the Note

What drives me as a writer is a single note. There is a music of life. A single note sounding through the universe, being received by each soul. Doc Greene can attest to this. I’ll crack down on some John Forgerty and a six pack and turn out the best conservative article you ever read. The spirit takes me away and since a song writer thinks on a dozen levels at once the results are multi-faceted. People dig for subliminal meanings and it’s all there in the note.

It stems from joy. Sometimes sorrow. The point is it is pure. The lyrics don’t matter. I totally reject “Imagine” as a viable explanation of life, but Lennon’s spirit speaks to me, perhaps telling me something he didn’t even know he said. I hear my note, he heard his. You come upon a truth, and you pound that nail again and again until it fits. I’ve had members of my family who thought I was crazy when they see me talking to myself, alone on the porch. I’m not talking to myself. I’m reciting an article, making sure it has the same continuity, the same flow as a song that sticks in your head. If the article labors the tongue, it will labor the mind. It must be so the writer and the reader come upon the idea at the same time, maybe not agreeing, but appreciating the fact, at least they were there. Both perceiving that single note in their own peculiar way.

The writer’s job is to explain the complex and make it simple. To take a full concert and bring it down to that single note. Where some more educated analysts will spend pages trying to explain, each page piling more confusion upon doubt, I just say if you believe that have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on sale! But the bottom line is I think with a songwriter’s mind. Short, direct, sixteen lines, chorus and out. Make it right, make it stick, sound the note, and move on.

Politicians rarely get this. Between the spin, and the outright lies they become muddled in politics, the note drowned out by the clamor, and that’s why young people listen to music before politicians. They know all politicians are liars and the song has some measure of truth for them. The young can hear the note. Oh, but if the constitution were a song, how easy it would be.

“Keep your guns, have some fun
Wave ’em round in the sun
Shoot the crooks and make ’em run
But all of y’all can keep your guns.”

“You can say just what you feel
You can pray to a tractor whe
It don’t matter, you all free
Long as you don’t mess with me.”

Kids got it right, but they get old, and the note goes away. Gotta catch them young, while they still have the fire. That way they don’t question when we send them to war. The truth lies in the graveyard, and the lies get re-elected. That’s the way it’s always been.

“Life’s a circle we all know
There ain’t no new way to go
And if you stay home you’ll probably be just fine
Broken dreams and empty chairs
We’ll all face the fire down there
And I hope yours burns cooler than mine.”

Listen for the note.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin