Politics

I am politically conservative with a very strong Libertarian bent, and this is how I became that way...  My greatest influence was my father who was a United States Marine and he served in the last few months of WWII in the pacific theater.  He had a limited education and only made it to the sixth grade. He joined the corps when he was 16.  He was a child of the great depression and one of eleven children.  He was raised in a Irish Catholic home, he was a Teamster and he had extremely high moral and ethical standards for a person of limited education; he did his best to teach me right from wrong, and he always expected the best from me.  My father worked hard his whole life and he never received a dime from anyone, and he never ever complained. He walked to work in a snow storm once, about six miles, with a broken leg in a cast and he was the only guy to show up that day. I grew up in a strict home with a picture of Pope Paul and of John Kennedy on the wall, we never knew who to genuflect to first. We went to Mass every Sunday and said the Rosary every Thursday night. Flash forward, I am now eighteen years old.  All my life I was told that I had to be self dependent and I am responsible for my own actions, no one owes me anything. Jimmy Carter is running for president and he is saying stuff and I'm not really paying attention but I live in an area that is heavily democratic, in fact there are no republicans. My dad is a democrat, my mother, my grandmother and everyone who I know is a democrat and they all hate republicans, but I ask why? So, who do I vote for? Jimmy Carter.  Now, I start to work, pay taxes, and I really start to pay attention to politics.  Some of the stuff does not match up to what I was taught; in fact it is 90 degrees out of phase.  My dad is a democrat, but he does not talk the way I'm hearing liberal democrats talk.  My grandmother is a democrat and she tells me that "these new democrats" are full of shit.  I love to hunt, democrats want stronger restrictions on guns, and this drives me further to the right.  The church tells me that abortion is wrong, they want abortions.  On and on, the stuff that I learned is a complete 90 degree turn from what they are saying, I listen to Jimmy Carter and he is full of shit.  I listen to Ronald Reagan and what he says moves me.  It stirs my heart and it makes me think I can do what I want and I can be what I want, there are no limitations, it is up to me, the government is not my daddy.  I start to read everything I can get my hands on.  I read the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.  I read Thomas Jefferson, the Federalist Papers, Thomas Paine, I read the Magna Carta and I think, I think about what I have read a lot. Even though it would be easier for me to be a liberal democrat, I cannot do this for I am far too gone, the genie is out of the bottle and I do not believe the lies any longer. The liberal lies are withering away with the disinfectant of knowledge.  I find out too much, and I am no longer just being fed garbage, I am awake. I find out the truth and I am thinking for myself.  I am not a republican.  I am a conservative and there is a difference.

My philosophy on what a man needs to know.

It is not like it was when I was younger. I guess plenty of people have said these exact words for the last few thousand years.  I'm not telling anyone how to live their lives, this is just how I tried to live mine. From working with guys all my life I have found out through life men need certain life skills to make their life easier and to prosper in life.  In his personal life he needs to be clean.  If he is clean about his person his life will be much easier. What do I mean about clean?  If you want a beard by all means grow one, but keep it trimmed. Get a haircut once in a while, use shampoo instead of soap to wash your hair. Change your socks every day, more if you sweat, put on clean underwear everyday. Put on a clean shirt everyday. Brush your teeth if you want to keep them, visit a dentist every six months. Use deodorant, shower everyday. Wash your hands after you use the bathroom and before you eat.
            If a man is single he should know how to take care of his house. A man should know how to make his bed and know how to wash dishes if he makes them. He should know how to change the sheets twice a month, or more if he needs to do it. He should know how to do laundry and how to iron a shirt. He should know how to make more than TV dinners. Watch a few cooking shows, it will not kill you, plus you may learn something, and it will not make you gay. If you are married or have a girlfriend, clean the house once in a while or offer to clean the bathrooms this does amazing things.  A man should know how to do basic electrical such as like fixing lamps or outlets.  He should keep his tools in perfect working order. He should own the basic tools: screwdrivers (both Phillips & Standard), Crescent wrench, adjustable pliers, WD40, duct tape, socket set (both metric and English), hammer, drill motor & drill set, and tape measure. Learn how to compute square footage of a room.  Every time you do a job buy a new tool. This is sort of like payment for doing the job. A man can never have enough tools, and you can always make money with tools. Keep your tools neat and clean. Buy the best tools that you can afford.  When someone talks about how to do a job listen to them, then use your own judgment on how to do it as you learn. By doing things yourself you can save a boatload of money.  Money: Never spend more than you make.  Try to pay for things with cash. Do side jobs if you can. Don't use your overtime money to live on.  Buy stuff only if you need it. Buy used American tools from garage sales and flea markets. Learn how to write a check, keep a check book ledger.  Learn how to say no. Make things last by fixing them (clothes washer, etc.) Start a 401K, save 10% of your paycheck in a rainy day fund.
Now this is the important stuff: Bait your own hook. Kill something, gut it, skin it, cook it, and eat it. Nothing is more satisfying than feeding yourself from start to finish. Everyman should do three things in his life, 1) Kill a deer and drag it out of the woods.  This gives you an appreciation for what people had to do to survive.  2.) Dig a stump out of the ground.  This gives you an appreciation of hard work. 3.) This is the most important: Hold a newborn baby in your arms.  This makes everything you do worthwhile; all of the work, labor, and sweat.
Read the classics, read the newspaper; think about what you read and just do not absorb what you read. Grow a garden.  Bake a loaf bread just to see how it is done, learn how to preserve vegetables.
Sometimes it takes courage to do the right thing. Take a kid fishing.  Make something instead of buying it. Volunteer just because you are able to, not because you have to do it.
There is never a reason to hit a woman and there is never a reason to hit a child.  Always stand up for someone weaker than you. Being kind does not make you weak, it just makes you a better person. Have the courage to say you are sorry if you are wrong, and have the guts to take a stand if you are right, and hope you have the wisdom to know the difference.  If you extend a hand out to someone make sure it is to help them up off the ground.  If you say you are going to do something, do it. Keep your word.  Never bet more than you can afford to loose. Keep your words sweet because you might have to eat them. The last thing?  Always be nice to the doorman, because you never know when you may need a door opened.

What is the best weapon for a zombie apocalypse?

I love zombie movies, and books. I know that they are not real, but it is fun to think about it in a problem solving way.  I'm not much into vampires all of that erotic mambo-jumbo annoys me. Vampires are date nights gone wrong.  Since in the zombie  mythology all you have to do is shoot them in the head you need something that holds a lot of ammo and is quick to reload. Nothing really says anything about firepower, an arrow to the head works fine. I know, I know, we are not talking about man stoppers here, we are talking about zombie droppers. You do not need a 12 gauge slug to drop a zombie (or so I have read)  I'm going to go on the assumption that a .22 cal. round to the noggin of a walker would be enough to drop one of those bad boys. One problem you have with a firearm is sound, according to the myths if you shoot a zombie the noise will attract more zombie boys and girls and therein lies the power of zombie forces. They overwhelm you by swarming and by the weight of shear numbers they win. So, if we accept the idea that a .22 cal. round to the head will drop a zombie you need to decide which .22 gun is the right choice.  A revolver is too slow to reload, and at the most a .22 revolver will only hold 9  rounds so, cross it off. A .22 target semi-auto pistol is a step in the right direction, perfect for back up, quick to reload, most will hold about 10 rounds, some more, it is reliable, and accurate. And if you have a .22 rifle the major benefit is that both the pistol and rifle will shoot .22 LR (long rifle ammunition). You can carry a lot of .22 rounds, 500 of them only weigh a few pounds, and they are cheap and every gun or sporting goods store sells them.  Plus, in a zombie apocalypse you are more likely to fined them in a closet of an abandoned house. So, now what kind of .22 rifle?  A bolt action rifle is way too slow and it will only hold about 10 rounds.  You have the same problem if you use a lever action, you can load more rounds but it is too slow to reload. A perfect gun is the Colt or S&W .22LR built on an AR type frame. You can hold 30 rounds and you can reload fast.  I think I would use a Ruger 10/22. It has been around a very long time, extremely reliable, and it will hold 30 round after market magazines, although it comes with a 10 round mag.  They sell accessories galore such as tactical stocks, and it is very affordable, they even sell silencers for the rifle (you need a class 3 license for the silencers). So, if the shit really hit the fan would I stick to my story here and use a puny .22cal against a hoard of human meat eaters? Nope.  I would use a Rock River 5.62 (.223) Remington M4., and for my sidearm I would use a Browning Hi-Power 9mm. The main thing is you need a lot of rounds.  With a 5.62 any police station would have them, the same as gun stores, the round is common, and so is the 9mm. I think I would find a place such as a Costco and hold up there, but then again, so would a lot of people, I going to have to think about this one.  Let's hope it never happens.

Venison recipes I like.

Venison meatballs marinara.
These meatballs don't last long.
3/4 pound of ground venison
1/4 pound of ground Italian sausage
1 onion diced
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 c. Italian bread crumbs
3/4c. of Parmesan cheese
1/8 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp of Lawery's season salt
2 eggs- beaten
1/4 c. of vegetable oil (to fry meatballs)
1 qt. jar of Marinara sauce
In a bowl mix egg and all of the other ingredients except for the meat first.  Add meat, mix well.
In large skillet heat oil then add meat balls (make one at a time about 1" in diameter.)
Brown meatballs, place in aluminum 3" deep baking pan.  When done browning pour Marinara sauce over the meatballs place in oven at 350deg. for 45 min.  These are great alone as an appetizer or over noodles.  (have an extra jar of sauce if you put them on noodles)

Crossbow v. Compound Bow

Well, the way I figure it is that there is a historical progression in hunting implements.  When man got hungry enough, and got tired out by chasing and killing animals with his hands he most likely picked up a club and beat some unsuspecting animal over the head. Nice way to tenderize but a hell of a way to hunt. He then made a jabbing spear; one momentous day sitting around the fire grunting to each other some prehistoric Nimrod decided to place a sharpened rock or obsidian with a piece of gut-string onto the end of a stick, presto!  Worked well, but not well enough.   Guys tend to be guys and over the course of thousands of years you have smart guys, and dumb guys. The smart guys sit around and think of something that works, the dumb guys get mad when they do, sort of like now. Some genius came up with the idea of using a spear throwing stick to leverage distance and power, along with accuracy. Worked great for about 10,000 years of so, but it took a lot of practice, effort, and skill.  However, man wanted more and the bow was invented.  It was a simple idea with complex answers and technology, find the right type of tree limb from the right type of tree which would bend and had the resiliency to spring back without breaking, the right type of string, and the right type of arrow all trial and error. You can stick a sharp stick into an animal but you will not kill it quick and your fast food will run off and die miles from where you shot it.  Thus, the hunting arrowhead was born. It is meant to cut arteries and bleed the animal out quickly. Try this, try that. Glue, leather, laminate!  All manner of bows were made, short, middle, long. The compound bow that I have is a work of art. I think a prehistoric individual would recognize this bow and look at it in wonder, but he would know how to use it. It is a Pro-Hawk Hunting Bow, twin cams with a seventy-five pound pull. It has anti-vibration, string sights and low light front sights. It is light weight and is made from machined fiberglass. I shoot 32" carbon arrows and I can hit a pie plate at 50 yards with no problem. All it takes is practice. I can carry this bow all day and never get tired.  Now, why would I go to a crossbow?  The crossbow has numerous advantages. I can sit and wait instead of standing, this way I can use a sit down blind. Less movement when I see a deer.  I don't have to wait until a deer steps behind a tree before I draw, with a crossbow, the bow is cocked and loaded (it has a safety). I don't have to hold the weight of pull, the crossbow is doing that for me.  It has double the pull weight (165lbs). It has a scope and it is deadly accurate. The bolts (arrows) are heavier than my hunting arrows. You can practice with a new crossbow for a day and you can hunt with it the next, there is no learning curve. If I walk up on a deer I can get a shot off without all of the movement of a compound bow. Sure, one might say a compound bow is more "pure", but then one can say a spear is also.  The object is to put meat in the freezer and to do it in a way that is quick and painless for the deer.

 I harvested this deer in late October with my compound bow from the ground still hunting at 40 yards.

Area 51

Beautiful Las Vegas.  I always wanted to see area 51 and this was a perfect chance. Rachel Nevada is roughly two hours northwest of Vegas, or so I thought. The first alien thing that I came into contact with was our rental car, it was a Toyota, the first import that I had ever driven. We rented the car from the agency at the hotel, it was cheap enough, $79.00 a day with unlimited mileage. We hit the road and turned on our trusty GPS unit, a Garmin 250.  Sure enough the unit could not find the town of Rachel.  So we did what every other red blooded American would do, we stopped and ate lunch. As serendipity would have it a bread truck was making a delivery at the restaurant so I asked the driver if he knew where Rachael was. He smiled and said, "Area 51?"
I said, "yep."
He said with a smile, "It doesn't exist."
I asked, "the town?" I was sort of confused by now.
Smiling he said, "Nope, the town is there.  Not much to see."  And then he gave me directions.

So we set off, our bellies full from a good Mexican lunch we headed off into the desert.  I mean nothing, miles and miles of pure American southwest nothing. Joshuah trees dot the landscape, brown rocks, red ones, and white ones litter the ground. Mountains with snow capped peaks; breathtaking beauty.  After about 150 miles of this we hit the Extraterrestrial highway. I kid you not, that is the name of the road. It is a big sign with a UFO on it and a bunch of "I was here" graffiti. So now we were on this God-forsaken Highway with the same nothing on each side, until we seen them. There they were right on the side of the road. Cows.  Some of the biggest and blackest cows with horns I have ever seen. Out in the middle of nowhere, black cows just waiting for a UFO to come by and beam them up into space to do what ever they do with cows. We continue our quest.  A few miles down from the cows we see on our left a major, almost dare I say, religious UFO mythology artifact of the road: The Black Mailbox. Of course the black mailbox is white and behind the mailbox is the road to OZ, the road that leads to the camo dudes, the watchers, the holy grail, Area 51.   The mailbox is as I said white and it is not the "original" box just a welded steel box with a padlock. But I guess alien  hunters like to meet here to plan their assault on Area 51. 

The Black Box.

The box has graffiti and stickers and all sorts of little notes to other seekers of Area 51. We hop back into the white Toyota and continue down the road.  Rachel sits in a dish surrounded by mountains. We come up to the edge of the town and turn down the a drive/road/street type deal past a small box of a church and trailers that people call home.  A fence sits to my right with the eclectic detritus of leftover life used now as someones idea of artwork. At the end of the road we come upon a heard of antelope contently grazing. We are looking for the "Little Alien Inn" and we wonder if we are in the right place or even on the right planet. A dog follows the car along the inside of a fence but it can't make up its mind if it wants to be friendly or not. We come up to the Inn.  Yes, this is the same one you will see in the movie Paul. A row of trailers in the back, this is the Inn. We are told by the bar maid that "Legitimate Investigators" of Area 51 often stay here, including, I kid you not, CIA agents. I ask, with complete sincerity I might add, how they would know that they are CIA.  I am told with a straight face that it was a secret and they would tell me but then they would have to kill me.  Inside the walls of the bar/restaurant are covered with interesting photos of ufo's and astronauts, signed artwork and pictures of aliens. The beer is cold and taste great. Enigmatic long haired people walk in and out.  "Investigators" who ancient VW bus has broken down wait for a tow truck from 70 miles away. The only other tow truck within 70 miles is out front, by the sign, holding up a ufo. This is great; I am happy, and all is right with the world.  We stay for a while to soak up the ambiance of the place and we listen to the tough "I've seen it all" barmaid get smart with the clientele. We have a few beers, buy a few T-shirts and leave. On the way home the cows are gone. 

   

The joy of hunting.

Nothing beats the woods.  It is you, alone, in the browns and yellows of fall. I, like the season that I love to hunt, are in the fall. The fall reminds me of my life.  There is a lot to learn from the seasons of the woods.  Fall starts out nice, but soon turns brutal. The fall of the season is only short lived, lasting only three months; but on the other hand, the fall of my life is permanent never to return.  Once I move out of the fall in my life and into winter there is no going back. Spring, to me is let's say from birth to around twenty-five years of age. Summer is twenty-five to around forty. Fall, the season that I now occupy is forty to say, sixty-five. The cold of winter starts up slow and you have some nice days, but you soon know that it was just a ruse.  In the woods the agility and brashness of youth is made up by experience of years of hunting. The quiet hours that I spend in the woods with my bow are used to contemplate my existence on this planet. Sometimes I think hunting is only an excuse to enjoy the company of solitude. There is something to be said for silence. If you stand still long enough the birds, squirrels, and other animals will soon forget that you exist. The same as it is in life. You become a part of the greenery, a part of the scenery, a part of their world. Squirrels, black, red, fox, and gray will start to chatter and complain to each other. Birds with sing with abandon and woodpeckers will peck like tiny Teamsters on jackhammers. Hawks will scream and geese will honk and if you take one step it will vanish as if the sound never was in the first place. Magical.  The woods are now empty of sound after that first step. Sometimes, it is better to be still and just listen.