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


If I Had Won The Powerball

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.
If I had won the Powerball:
With Miley Cyrus’ career of indulging in the disgusting, I would offer her ten million dollars, tax free, to clean my toes with her tongue. I would offer her dad another five million to sing, “Achy Breaky Heart” to me while she did it.
I would hire the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders to cheer outside the White House fence wearing Trump T-shirts.
I would offer Michael Moore unlimited ham sandwiches for life if he would become a card carrying Republican.
I would take Vladimir Putin’s wife to dinner.
I would give Putin a case of Vodka when I did it.
I would spring for El Chapo’s bail, and ask him to introduce me to that Mexican movie starlet that got him caught.
I would offer to pay for divorces for any gay couple that applied.
I would offer to pay for Michelle Obama’s divorce.
I would buy the Playboy Mansion currently for sale, and donate it to the Catholic Church.
I would offer Hillary any amount she asked if she’d do a lap dance on Bernie Sanders.
I would buy Bernie Sanders a Nitroglycerin pill.
I would offer Fidel Castro fifty million to be photographed smoking a Pall Mall cigarette.
On that Miley Cyrus deal, I’d invite Britney Spears to make it a three-some. (Yeah, I’m old school.)
I’d give Bruce Gender one hundred million to move to a Muslim country.
I’d fly all my ex’s to Texas to play a baseball game.
I’d set aside a trust fund for my granddaughter, Kylie, to go through college through her doctorate, provided she does it at the University of Texas.
I would buy one million copies of my latest book to force the New York Times to put it on their best seller list.
I’d pay the editor of the Times thirty million to write an article claiming that book was the best thing since sliced bread.
I would offer to pay for Wendy Davis to remove that wart from her face.
I’d buy Greg Abbott a HoverRound.
I’d buy Paul Ryan a personality. Make that two, I’d buy another one for Ken Paxton.
I’d buy Disney Studios and make them go back to making Mickey Mouse cartoons and get out of child porn.
I’d pay for DNA tests on Obama’s daughters.
I’d open a string of bars in Utah and have the cocktail waitresses dress as Mormon Missionaries.
I’d hire a staff to rewrite the Qu’ran, and offer ten million to any Mosque that used it. Don’t think they’d take it? If you think that have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on SALE!
Those Utah waitresses . . . put them in the Mosques, too.
I would buy the Westboro Baptist Church, bulldoze it to the ground and replace it with a Gay Bar.
I would spring for the lawyers for all the guys in Waco who were arrested after the murder of their friends, and offer the City of Waco one hundred million if the DA would wear a clown’s suit during his next trial.
I would buy the Church of Scientology and put Penn Jillette in charge of it.
Make that three personalities, Joe Biden.
And last but not least, I’d take Crystal Lee Laramoreand the entire staff of Raging Elephants to the best dinner they’ve ever had, in a stretch limo!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

I’m Contraversial

I’m controversial. I suppose that goes without saying. I actually do not have a stated course, or agenda, other than Texas Freedom. Sometimes I will research an article for days before it jells and I know which way I’m going. Good case in point was this weekend where I watched dozens of documentaries, reviewed hundreds of news stories and read the works of Josephus. In addition to that I reviewed James Randi, Aron Ra, and a couple of Rabbis I know over in Jerusalem, all to boil it all down to six hundred words on this morning’s posting. That’s another of my tricks. If I can’t make my point in six hundred words I have to research more.
I fly high above the subject. Trying not to get tied down with useless argument, or commentary, I go for the human understanding we all have. That’s why I call myself a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin. If a waitress can’t understand what I’m trying to say, I rewrite. I scatter shot, i.e. one day I’ll address the ISIS situation, and the next day will write about my first kiss from Pam Burns back in high school. If there is a common thread in my work I’ve yet to see it. Maybe fifty years after I’m dead some professor will figure me out.
I handle criticism well. Well, I handle it well if the person criticizing me is of note. If it’s some former in-law who can’t compose a grocery list I get pissed off. But if it’s a national talk show host I consider that on the same level as a kiss from Ivana Trump. This simple fact of the matter is that if you only write about polka dots and pink shoe laces no one will ever read you. You never know what will set someone off. I do not deliberately try to offend. On a one to one conversation I never discuss religion. I’ve tried. Always ends with someone sending me to hell.
I’m developing as a writer. At sixty-four I’ve just about got this thing figured out. There’s a girl out in Nolanville who screens my stuff for grammatical errors. Consequently, I make sure I include one in every article. Also, I put one mistake in every one. A little tease to see if someone catches it. I’m crazy like that. I’m a free-lance writer, in that there is no money in blogging, or at least it has eluded me. But, that’s no surprise. I couldn’t sell a condom in a whorehouse. Sales is not my calling.
Sometimes a subject will evade me. This morning I had all intentions of dissecting “Clock Boy.” Even had the picture ready. Then, I looked at this little nerdy kid and thought, “Gonna give him a break.” He’s beginning to figure out his parents are whacked. Kid wants to come back to Texas. I can’t hate that. Buy that boy a Taco. Beef taco!
I hate abortion, black lives mattering, Bruce Gender and Vodka Martinis. I love Gin Martinis, fine cigars, and any girl stupid enough to hang around me. I believe in God, but not religion. Religion is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. The reason I believe in God is we still can’t make a leaf. I listened to hours of atheists this weekend trying to find out how to make a leaf, and those idiots didn’t even have a formula for a dry martini.
So, until assassination, I will continue to write. Entertain both myself and the public. Having said that you’ll note I’ve reached six hundred words.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

I Have a Dream

I have a dream. I see an America where you can go into a restroom at any time, regardless of gender, and indulge in any act of depravity that suits your fancy, I have a dream. I envision a time when you can have relations with any person, of any sex, anywhere, anytime, and if that person is a child it will be understood that you are not diseased you are only “minor attracted,” I have a dream! A world where only the most disenfranchised, the most confused, the most sociopathic are allowed to have a gun and the rest are secure in gun free zones oh, I have a dream today.

I can clearly see a time when the Statue of Liberty will welcome the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to take everything they can without even a bubble gum wrapper of paperwork allowing entry, and their culture will supplant the Constitution because a goat herder talked to some angel in a cave fourteen hundred years ago, I have a dream! I see a beautiful vision where a man is voted woman of the year, and Christian churches throw open their doors to the devil. In this brave new world the Qu’ran will be revered and the Bible will be against the law, where women wear sack cloth and high school cheer leaders are assaulted for being beautiful, oh, Lord, I have a DREAM!!

I see a world where entire cities are turned over to anyone who needs a “get out of jail free” card until those cities are degraded to the level of a war zone and no citizen is safe to even take a bus to the mall, what a glorious dream I have today. I see women being killed while having ice cream on a pier with their father and Judges at a loss trying to decide if it is a crime because the killer is not American.

In my dream I see a school system with standards so low that the Russians laugh at graduates from it who can’t even write their own names, I have a dream today. I see an economy so degraded that the Mexicans start jumping the border to get back into Mexico after they rob, rape and kill, and no man may say anything about it for fear of the god of political correctness, I have a dream today.

I dream of the day when all of God’s children, should they survive abortion, will not be judged by the content of their character, but by the content of their pocket, I have a dream. A day when they run down the middle of the street, under the Rainbow Flag screaming, “Free at Last! Free at last!” I will not be there with you. I shall not cross over. God has not chosen me. Do not be disinherited, however. I’ll be in Canada! I have a dream.

The word you’re looking for is “Facetious.”

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

Donald and the Ten Dwarfs

I had a dilemma today in naming this article. I was going to call it “Donald and his ten bitches,” but this is a family show so I opted for “Donald and the ten dwarfs.” Well, we had the big debate last night. Between all the one-liners and quips I don’t think anything of substance was discussed. Challengers to the next POTUS were Carly Florina, Rand Paul, and Ben Carson. Everybody else was there for the photo op, and the free dinner at the end. There was some guy named George Pataki, I think he was once a governor someplace, and of course Jeb Bush, looking all “presidential” for all the good that did him. There were so many RINOs up there I thought the “Donald” was on safari.

I was worried about how Trump would come out, but I shouldn’t have. This guy could sell the Chinese a rice cake. The discussion between Florina and Trump centered around how ugly she is, and how nobody wants to talk about it. Donald opened up on Rand Paul. Now Paul is hanging onto the edge of the stage. They let him on for comic relief, in memory of his father’s many failed attempts to mass produce tin foil hats. Paul called Trump “sophomoric,” which was . . . special. I suppose that was the word of the day, as Trump gave him the “bum’s rush” for the door. He mentioned that Rand Paul looked peculiar. Maybe in the end we can breed him and Florina and get something like Whoopi Goldberg, you think?

And then along came Pataki. I’ve honestly never heard of this guy, but I’m from Austin, and I do miss some things. Trump made mention of his bid for dog catcher. I didn’t pick up on the response. I’m developing a theory that some of these cats get on these debates to promote speaking tours or book sales, because they sure ain’t getting the nomination. The only serious contender was Ben Carson, and this is sad. Good man, educated, articulate, the whole package. Only problem is Obama has sealed the fate of any black candidate for like the next two hundred years. Carson will be remembered as a Ben Franklin figure, wise, but no votes. I think Trump may put him on the cabinet. In all honesty he would make an excellent Surgeon General.

The only sure thing is that one of the guys will be the next president. The Democrats are making sure that two by four is shoved up Hillary’s butt far enough to at least keep her standing until the general election. Early on they put all their eggs and some bacon in her basket as the president designate, and now that the scandals are rolling out they have to play it through and just pray she doesn’t get indicted before the election. Wouldn’t it be funny if the FBI finally downloads all the stuff on her server and it’s filled with Bill’s kiddie porn? The liberals are in full denial as their “Shirley Temple” becomes Mylie Cyrus, and twerks across the country in an orange jump suit. Appropriate. Some guy on Facebook even said something about “fake polls” yesterday. Yeah, buddy, just keep telling yourself that. They’re going to keep the blinders on until Donald puts his hand on that Bible January 20th of 2017, and then their world is going to go from cream to crap in about three minutes. It’s becoming fashionable for liberal celebrities to say if Donald Trump is elected they will leave the country. Might I suggest. . . Syria?

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

19 Kids and Counting

Now and then I come upon a subject that even I find hard to approach. Two words; Duggar Family! Like everyone else I scanned across the news items about the molestation that allegedly occurred years ago. Y’all like that word, “allegedly?” I’m getting sophisticated and I use words like that. Like I’ve been “allegedly” married six times. Anyway, back in the day it seems the older brother, Josh, went and touched SOMEbody’s poody poo. In fact, I understand he touched FIVE poody poos on selected occasions.

I NEVER watched 19 Kids and Counting for a number of reasons. First off, it’s a reality show. People, reality shows are NOT reality, ok? They are scripted, choreographed television productions with millions of dollars poured in to give the illusion of reality, and if you believe they are spontaneous real situations have I got a duck call for YOU! Also, THIS reality show was dumb. Yeah, I just said that. Common sense tells me when all the women crowd around a TV set to watch anything men should NOT get involved. I know little to nothing about the through lines of the show, but I suspect it revolved around a house full of kids somewhere in Arkansas, and frankly I had to Google that before penning this article.

Anyway, this Josh fellow touched his sisters and three other girls around about the time he was fourteen or so. Let’s see, Arkansas, fourteen year old boy, house full of girls . . . Wow! Never saw THAT coming. So I suppose it all came out over the supper table and the dad, “Jim Bob” and wifee dragged the little prick down to the Baptist church to be rebaptized. Must’ve worked because he apparently restrained his sex life to a dirty magazine and a paper towel after that, eventually getting married (I guess)’to some chick who was as whacked out as he was, and they commenced working on THEIR 19 and counting.

Now that I’ve beat up this white trash I’d like to point out that they are not good examples of southern white trashery. Jim Bob (couldn’t he have found a better name?) was a real estate broker, a state representative and I know NOTHING about his significant other, but I just imagine she was made from the same plastic that every other woman around the country is who hooks up with a guy like that. Also, you don’t negotiate yourself into a contract with a major production company in Hollywood at a tractor pull! They were just like Bill and Hillary. Well, maybe not that trashy.

The show centered around serving dinner, walking down the street, and talking about their faith, and I’m quite sure when Josh fell all over his sister that night he was rummaging through her room trying to find his misplaced Bible. You must ask yourself, if the incident was so far back, and the kid was a juvenile, what’s the problem? Well, there are several, actually. Please remember we are in a politically correct, liberal society. First, regardless of the incestuous nature of the liaison, it WAS between a boy and a girl. VERY politically incorrect. Josh should have slipped into sissy’s room to borrow a blouse for an upcoming date. Next, there were so MANY kids and not one decent abortion in the house. I’m frankly surprised that CPS and Planned Parenthood didn’t file a class action law suit. Can you just imagine? A woman with no other talent in the world other than making babies. What happened to her potential? And finally, they were Christian! Shut the FRONT door! This event would have been so much easier to solve, had they been Muslim. Just drag those two little fluzzies out in the Arkansas woods and bash their brains out with a brick. Teach THEM to sleep in their beds with panties and a t-shirt!

The Duggars FIXED the problem. Billy Joe Jim Bob took his son to the preacher. He didn’t condone the action, and he most certainly didn’t act like Sons of Guns Will Hayden, who introduced his twelve year old daughter to his own version of a “smoking gun,” he took the kid, got him some help, and frankly, the boy came through it. Liberals hate that, especially when Jesus gets all involved and they have to look at that “first stone” stuff. But these same well rounded people will tell their kids that Bruce Gender is a “hero.” No one went to jail. Little girls still love their brother. CPS, APS, DPS, and ASPCA didn’t get involved, denying some REAL pedophile access to those two little ladies, family remained intact, and it didn’t cost you a cent! Talk about a win-win. I’m an old Texas reptile-bait, and even I like it! I’d probably watch the show now ‘cept for one little problem. TLC pulled it!

That’s right! When a little too much reality came into their “reality” show, TLC did what all communist, gay, Muslim loving, main stream, politically correct lie factories do, they turned tail and ran! They had a chance to address an issue of importance, with some apparently real people, and they dropped the ball worse than Tony Dorset on a Sunday afternoon. And the story is good! The solution is real, and it worked, it just didn’t fit into the Obamanation.

The Duggars had a message for us all, but we’ll never see it because it is Christian, heterosexual, American family. As a family they addressed an issue, which, I might add, did not fester for years, the kid was ashamed, but not MADE ashamed for being a human being, and the family healed. People like the Duggars are special, and they’re not a dying breed, I mean, my GOD! They have 19 kids at a time. Sorry for Party Rocking!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


With political correctness, gender confusion, race mix-match and other factors, definitions and social acceptance have become important so we’re a gonna have a class on social structure and linguistics, and since I’m a Texan liberals please take a break. What I’m about to say will not interest you. Take your grandson shopping for a dress at Macy’s.

When I first heard the term, “Illegal Aliens” I immediately thought of Roswell. Hey, I’m not kidding. I conjured up mental images of big-headed creatures with spindly arms and legs, and LOTS of tin foil in the desert. Later, when someone said, “Undocumented workers” I naturally thought that was like a construction worker taking cash so he could avoid income tax. Slowly the truth became plain. These were new, more user friendly terms for a critter Texas has had for years. WETBACKS!

Boy, that hurts your ears, don’t it libtards? Swat them bees, swat them bees! Until Donald Trump addressed the issue I did not know wetbacks were a political force in America. Silly me. In a country where a man can get on the cover of a magazine as a super model what do you expect? Wetbacks are out in force. Time was, if liberals wanted to show how fair and inclusive they were they’d invite a black guy to a party . . . one, just one, of course, so they could all sit around and discuss watermelons, and brag about how in inclusive they really were. Well, the new guy on the woodpile is a wetback!

And there are so many of them we have to have sanctuary cities. You know, like San Francisco. I thought that place was reserved for the gays, oh, my mistake, they lost that crown to Austin. I digress. Wetbackery is IN! I’m just waiting on Obama to take up the cause of the guy who killed that girl on the pier out in Frisco with something like, “If I had a son, he’d look like him.” Obama is sympathetic to wetbacks because his back was just dried off in 2008! And wetbacks climbed immediately to the top of the tower of psycho-babble where even MENTIONING them is a social blunder.

Since Macy’s has dumped Trump, you should expect to see new products soon. Plain brown pants and shirts, patent leather shoes, and of course, Vitalis is BACK! Then Miley Cyrus will pull out her two front teeth, dye her hair jet black and trade twerking for salsa. Black folk, you just better take a number, your day has come and gone. Pull down the statue of General Lee and replace it with Pancho Villa! Buy all the Chevrolet stock you can find, and teach your kids SPANISH! Wetback is the new black!

Everything wetback is somehow MORE. Remember the Godfather? Now c’mon, admit it, those guys were really cool, weren’t they? “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Now get this; “I ain’t even gonna lie to choo!” The term, “Mafia” almost became cuddly, but MEXICAN Mafia? Now THAT even makes the fat boys step back. America has embraced wetbackism. Now I don’t know the translation, but Americans of Mexican decent are looking at all these gringos jumping on this and thinking, “WTF?” They KNOW wetbackery!

Hey, I’m not kidding. Think I am? Remember. when we had to come up with that immortal phrase, “The ‘N’ Word?” Then, all the sudden you couldn’t go one day without hearing, “Nigga” come out of someone’s mouth. Shucks, white chick up in Washington State even turned into a nigga. I’ll bet if she examines her family roots she’ll find a wetback in there somewhere. Of course she’ll have to find a low cut dress, and straighten that hair out a bit.

Styles and modes come and go, and liberal culture stands at the ready to fall into quick step behind every fad that comes rolling out. This has opened a whole new list of options for me, personally. I’ve never been married to a Mexican girl, which is astounding because they are some of the most beautiful women in the world. You wouldn’t know it because Univision won’t run the Miss Universe contest, but they’re pretty hot. Anyway, I’m gonna find me a little señorita and get remarried. Gotta buy a bigger house, though, cause she’ll have “family!”

Baptize a Cat

Being a writer and achieving understanding is a little bit like trying to baptize a cat. Nobody that I know of starts out to be a writer unless they’re deluded. Oh, there’s all kinds of college courses you can take to learn the craft. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, you learned all you need to know somewhere back in grammar school. I run into these people all the time, one in particular who will count commas in my articles, and she and her mother roll in each “victory” like a dog in a dead armadillo. All them degrees hanging on the wall . . . can’t write a grocery list!

You have to be able to achieve understanding, no deeper than that. The choice of words is a contract between you and your reader. Words shift change through the years, and understanding is organic. Take the age old “can” and “may” argument. You know the one, “Teacher can I?” You get that lecture about the implications of the two words, but anyone with a frontal lobe will understand the kid wants to go to the bathroom. Agreement of subject and verb can be cute, but anyone with common sense can figure that out. And don’t forget local dialect. British and English is NOT the same language, and Texan isn’t even in the same ball park, yet somehow we all seem to understand each other, mostly.

The art of writing is condensing complicated thought down to a form that MOST people can pick up on. When I use the phrase, “If you believe that, have I got a bridge for YOU,” is a clever way of saying, “That’s . . . stupid!” Apply this to political commentary, and it really takes on feathers. Just ask Hillary about emails. Politicians make their bones twisting words, and when they fall short they hire professional liars called “Press Secretaries.” You KNOW this guy is liar, but it’s become a game seeing how much spin he’ll throw in to make the story cook. That’s where the writer comes in. Forget about journalists, they’re out there a spinning with the press secretary.

I have an evil plan in my writing. I want to keep on keeping on, putting out MY ideas, MY way, hoping that if enough people read me maybe, just maybe, they WON’T give us another Barak Obama. I know, I know, when pigs fly. Oh, wait, can I still say pigs? I guess since the pig is flying that makes it conform to Muslim thought where horses fly. Trying to keep up with the ever evolving political correctness meter is like having lunch with an ex-wife. You’re never gonna be right about anything, so just give it up and eat your burger.

While grammar, punctuation and syntax are not overly important in the world of SMH, LOL, and OMG, delivery is still job one, and you REALLY can’t learn THAT in college. Picking the right moment for the insertion of a hook is something you learn by DOING! The public can be a hot chick that everybody gets to date but you. You have to develop that “feel” to where you know the connection. It’s really quite simple, actually. You re-read your stuff a dozen times, and after that, if it “cooks” you’re good to go. Do the math; if you’re fairly normal at least half the people out there are on somewhat the same sheet of music, and if you’re crazy, well that’s the other half.

And speak your MIND! It’s fine to pick up new ideas and agree, but never lie about what you really think. Now, I’m all PC about Gay Marriage, but really, I think they’re all as crazy as an outhouse rat! Hey, I’m from Texas, you just gotta deal with it. I’m mixed on the border. We will always have people trying to sneak into a better life, but shouldn’t we at least have the CIA declare the cargo on all those 747’s bringing in all that COKE across the border? You see, there’s no doubt where I stand, so when some chick out in India jumps my butt I just blow her off.

And racism? Don’t worry about it. The University of Wisconsin just published a list of things that if you say, or do any one of the above then you’re a racist. My initial response was, “Wisconsin has a university?” Is THAT racist? Writers fall into that trap all the time and resort to phrases like “The ‘N’ Word,” to dilute the real thing, but when you use that it just makes people think the real word. I don’t think we have thought control YET. I’m still allowed to THINK the “N” word.

If you don’t get all tangled up in high English, political correctness, or “N” words you’ll probably pen something that people will read and understand. And that’s the key, understanding. If you rattle off a series of five syllable words and no one understands you, then you have basically said nothing, and there you go. . . baptizing that cat.

Stand By For News!

I spent an entire day yesterday watching the furor over the Confederate flag. I could have put my time to better use, I can assure you, but every story, every note, every status on Facebook had a flag on it. The GAYS even have a flag! I didn’t know that. I personally think it should be pink, but what do I know, right?

Then came a story that ISIS has invented a new way to kill people, three new ways, actually, and if you know me, I made a tuna sandwich, a pitcher or martinis, and went looking for that! Then, of course the story about Obama selling Kansas to the Chinese, Hilliary has dated Yoko Ono, and Bruce Gender had her first period! Then, a great light appeared unto me. It was exceedingly bright, and I was sore afraid. And a voice came from the light, like a thousand trumpets, and the voice said, “Come here!” So I put down my martini, and went unto the voice, and the voice got holy, and powerful, and resounded-duh . . . And the voice said, “Gimme some of dat samitch!”

So I gave the voice the sandwich, and I was filled with wisdom at that point. And the wisdom was this: The Mainstream Media long ago lost ALL credibility. Gone are the days when Patton strode onto the beach, or Kennedy stared down the Russians, or Dr. King walked fearlessly down the streets of Selma. Now some guy says he’s a woman, cuts his Johnson off, and the world stops turning. The big bucks news will pump any story, no matter how stupid until you’d think that was the only thing happening in the entire world at that given moment of time. LEAD story,too! JESUS CHRIST could return, and He’d be upstaged by some transvestite tripping, and spilling a Coke on a parking lot! Oh yeah, did ya’ll know the Pope is a communist? There was even a story about Miley Cyrus poking fun at the Bible. Like that’s a surprise? Have you checked out her little dance step. I liked when she was Hanna Montana, but what do you do when you grow up, and lose your contract because you’re basically ugly, and a slut? That’s an old word my younger readers need to get used to. Slut: Prostitute who’s too stupid to charge for it.

And, of course, everybody’s looking forward to the race war that’s coming. A few kids with their pants sagging sit down in the street and “IT’S A RACE WAR, IT’S A RACE WAR!” We already HAD a race war back in the 1860’s. Oh God, here come the flags again! I found ONE story worth reading, and that was the one about the one-legged vet who had to put his dog down. The dog was trained to sniff out seventy different bombs, and had saved many lives. The whole town turned out to accompany him to the doctor, and go to rest. Uh, didn’t see any Confederate flags in the crowd.

Then I caught Chris Green, Alternative TV, and of course he was ranting and raving about that flag flap. Then he turned on Col. Allen West. He showed a clip of some black, bearded fanatic, and kept calling him Col. West. I was reminded of an old George Carlin line; Seems fairly intelligent . . . Ah! He’s full of s . . . .!” You have to watch conspiracy theorists just about as close as you watch Main Stream Media. Right before Green regurgitated his dialog he did a commercial trying to sell body armor to all the nice folks out there waiting for Jade Helm to kick in, oh don’t get me started! We are going through that flap down here in Texas right now. I’m sure there is SOMETHING there, because even Governor Abbott is putting armor plating on his wheel chair. (You’d think that after getting the Governor’s office he’d have picked up a Hoveround somewhere along the way, wouldn’t you?) it’s a nice fantasy, I guess. I have a fantasy. Me, locked away in a bomb shelter, hiding from Jade Helm, with five Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and a case of Jim Beam. Do THAT math!

So, I found myself having coffee this morning, waiting to see what’s next. Will ISIS invade New York? Will the Jews take over the world? Will Bruce Gender become pregnant? Will global warming make California a bigger desert than it’s always been? Will we have to read yet another story from Roof’s stepmother (another slut) telling us what a “nice boy” he really was? Will Alex Jones sell yet another water purification system? Stand by for NEWS!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin