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And it took traveling to the Philippines to do it. I met Climate Destruction DENIER from Twitchy here in the Philippines. He, his wife, and his Philippine family were very gracious hosts, providing far more food than could be eaten in 3 sittings. And that was only the lunch. We also went sight-seeing so I could better understand circumstances as they relate to my own business ideas for the Philippines. Climate Destruction DENIER likes my ideas, and has started the process of information gathering in an effort to implement my ideas — with his alterations — here on Luzon.

But the important thing is I have found a family in Luzon that I can really talk business plans and culture differences with. I hesitate to call him an ex-pat because there are negative connotations with that term among some people. He’s a US citizen with a lovely Pinay wife, living on Luzon.

I hope to learn a lot more from him, and to further develop our acquaintance relationship into a solid friendship. He’s very clearly good people, despite some of our disagreements. Actually… I like the fact we have disagreements. Two of me in the same room for any length of time would result in one of me in that room.

I definitely have business plans aiming more than one direction for the Philippines. I also have business plans, aiming basically only one direction in the US, and I am actively working to make the US plans work, despite some setbacks. The destruction of my credit history, which started in November 2008, is a major stumbling block, at least for my US LLC. If I can get these multiple plans working, I can be officially retired at a younger age than most Americans, while continuing to do some heavy work while retired.

It is much less expensive to live in the Philippines, and the people, for the most part, are much friendlier than what you’ll find in the US. And now that I’ve met Climate Destruction DENIER and his family in person, I also have an anchor of sorts in the Philippines. Things are looking up, with multiple hurdles to … hurdle, but looking up, nonetheless.

In the Philippines, it is easy to find people making 8000 PHP (Philippine Pesos) per month. Very easy. At the current rate of roughly 43.60 PHP per USD, that comes out to about 183.50 dollars per month. Let me repeat that. It is easy to find a Pinoy or a Pinay (not derogatory at all) who makes less than 200 US Dollars per month. At 50 pesos per day, or roughly 1.20 dollars per day, a Pinoy phone can be unli. That’s unlimited. So, that’s 1500 pesos per month, or 18.75 percent of their monthly pay. More than 5 and a half days a month working, just for an entire month of unlimited cell phone service. So, they do not unli their phones every day. Only when necessary. Does anyone work more than 5.5 days a month just to pay for their cell phone in the US? No? Then sit down and shut up.

A brand new cell phone costs 2400 PHP, and it doesn’t even have a motion sensor to turn the image sideways when you turn your phone. That’s nearly 1/3 of a month of pay. Did you pay more than an entire week’s worth of wages for your even better phone? No? Then sit down and shut up.

Going to the cinema, it costs 150 PHP for a 2-D movie, or more than half a day’s pay (less than 4 bucks), based on working 30 days a month. Half a day’s pay. Does anyone working at McDonalds have to work an entire day in order to make enough money to buy two tickets to the movie theater? No? Then shut up about being poor. I mean, seriously.

I saw a report about a proposed new, lower graduated income tax law for the Philippines. If I remember correctly, 500k was where the absolute top rate kicked in. 500,000 Philippine Pesos. 11,468 US Dollars. For a top rate of close to 1/3 of your pay. Do you pay close to 1/3 of your pay in income taxes if you make 12,000 USD? No? Then sit the fornicate down and shut the sheol up.

America’s “poor” are not poor. I have no respect for and no empathy for fast food workers who think they can commit crimes in order to do anything their Socialist puppeteers want. Period.

I am at this moment in a hotel room, getting ready to head off to the airport for my three week overseas trip. But just getting here was an ordeal and a half. The company I am contracted to has known I needed to be in Salt Lake City by the 13th or 14th so I can catch my flight on the 15th for 2 months. And I kept training students right up to the end (a break in training of 45 days or more means I would have to go through the 4-day training class all over again). My last student found my truck in the shop 5 times in 5 weeks, one of those times being his fault. I had nox sensor issues more than once, a clutch replaced, a fuel pump replaced, a cylinder liner replaced, and a brand new 1200 dollar super-single drive tire replaced with another brand new 1200 dollar tire (his fault).

On August 6, I was in California. I delivered a load to Carson, then went over to Colton to pick up my next load, headed to Shelbyville, Tennessee. The load was to pick up between 10am and 11pm on the 6th, so I arrived at 5am and waited. And waited. And waited some more. It wasn’t ready at 10am like it was supposed to be, then at 1pm I was informed a stop in Ochelaka, Oklahoma was added. It was finally ready to go at 7pm.

The delivery times of 3am on the 8th for OK and 3am on the 9th for TN got changed. New delivery times were 630am on the 9th and 3am on the 10th. And I got time to go into the shop at the Petro to get my drive tire replaced. My student had dropped a trailer and pulled out from under it, like is done 120 times a year. Only he didn’t lower the landing gear far enough, and he pulled out real fast without stopping midway to assure things were good. The trailer dropped down onto the drive tire, and since he was pulling out too fast, the truck came right out, shredding the tread on one 1200 dollar super-single drive tire. All the way around the tire.

I got load assignments to pick up a load on the morning of the 10th to deliver to Haverhill, Massachusetts the morning of the 11th and pick up a load in the Boston area 3pm on the 11th to be delivered to Ogden, UT on the 13th.

After delivering in OK, my Shelbyville delivery time for the 10th got changed to 720am, meaning I would be late to pick up in Murfreesboro, late to deliver to Haverhill, late to pick up in the Boston area. So I go pick up my load in Murfreesboro. And lo and behold, the yard jockey had backed the trailer up too far. He pushed the trailer tires against a large concrete back-stop, pinning the mudflap between the back-stop and the tire. And when he dropped the trailer, he tore off the mudflap and bent the bracket. I was going to have to go out-of-route to Nashville to get the damage repaired. But first, it being a heavy load, I had to get the truck scaled out. And there was a long line inside the truckstop waiting for the scale ticket. And then the scale ticket. 30,000 on the drives and 36,600 on the trailer. 34,000 maximum. So back out, stretch the trailer tandems as long as legally possible. Rescale. 32,000 on the drives, 34,600 on the trailer. Overweight. Back to the shipper to rework the load. Over an hour lost at the truckstop. Two hours lost at the shipper. Then back to the truckstop to scale it out, and it’s legal this time.

So next we go to the TA to get the mudflap hanger straightened and a new mudflap installed. 40 miles out of route, and 3 hours wait time. And we’re finally ready to roll on to Haverhill, MA. Shortly after leaving Nashville on I-40, a man with white hair and a short-cropped white beard walked toward the highway so my student moved into the left lane and slowed down. The man continued walking out onto the 70 mph highway, and then he really did it. He threw something that looked like a brick at my windshield! He missed, hitting my mirror mount and barely hitting the lower seal around the passenger mirror.

Instead of delivering in Haverhill at 4am on the 11th, it looked like a 5pm delivery. My load out of Boston to Ogden got pulled off me. Now, I had a delivery in Northeast Massachusetts for the evening of the 11th with nothing getting to Utah. And a flight and hotel room I already paid for on the line. But my Dispatch Manager pulled through. I had an 11pm pick up in Middletown, Connecticut to be delivered to Salt Lake City 11pm on the 13th.

So, we get stuck behind a crash on I-78 on the Pennsylvania/New Jersey border. Then we get stuck behind a crash on I-287 in New York. Then we get stuck in a 7 mile back-up behind a crash on I-95 in Connecticut. Then we get stuck in a back-up on I-290 in Massachusetts. We finally get delivered in Haverhill at 930pm, when it was supposed to be delivered at 4am. Now, off to the Connecticut pick-up. And… we get stuck in an hour-long back-up on I-90 in Massachusetts. And a midnight pick-up. Other than unseasonable cold and unusual rain where it doesn’t normally in the summer, the trip to Salt Lake City was uneventful. Finally, I could relax.

There’s still time for something else to be screwed up since I am not on the plane yet…

Ok … let’s ask some questions which may even seem silly at first, but which, in the asking, will clear away some of the unhappy vagueness we tend to live with out of social politeness or the fear of seeming too radical.

So:

Do you have, let’s say, a right to breathe? If so, where does this “right” come from? An act of Congress?

Do you have a right to be served by others? If so;

Do they have a right to be served by you? If so;

Do they have a right to serve themselves by not serving you?

The questions are too general or abstract or silly or provocative you say? And anyway, it all depends, you say? Alright then, “it all depends”.

In hopes of making some kind of progress, let’s wave away any of the question begging “balancing of rights” or “cultural context” distractions into which you would like segue, and try to press forward instead.

To continue on a slightly different tack.

Do you (yeah you personally) let’s say, have a right to speak freely? If the answer is “yes”, is that “right” merely a contingent legal permission – be it constitutional, statutory, whatever – which you for the time being enjoy? Can you equally well be deprived of that permission in a way which would leave you with no rational cause for complaint to someone else? If you cannot so be deprived without a rational cause for complaint to someone else, do you then claim a more basic right to that express right? If so, how, or upon what, is that claim grounded?

You are a modern liberal; and, let’s say for the sake of argument, that I am not.

And you’re determined that you are not going to “fall for” any of the questions I have asked. A “right” you insist and will boldly maintain, is nothing more than an arbitrarily recognized social permission – that tolerance or support which others are habituated or intimidated into conceding to you. Usually written down if it is to mean anything.

You then as a modern liberal, consistently and without exception or proviso do assert and affirm that the concept of “rights” really renders down to what are in essence, no more than social permissions; having no other objective grounding or reality.

So now, let’s say that you the modern liberal, and I the not-modern-liberal find ourselves on an island. One with no law books.

I’m stronger that you are and … Yeah, yeah, trust me, I am. And, and anyway as I was about to say, although there is enough for both of us to survive, if I kill you now, I can live more than just comfortably. Besides, I find your weakness and whiny-ness annoying.

If I do kill you, have I done anything objectively wrong? If so what is it, and how do you know? Have I thereby, on this law book free island, deprived you of anything that could be called “rights”? Is my killing of you, “unjust” in any sense, even though no judicial writ runs here? If so, then how so; and, how do you know?

Have you any reason to complain over an injustice in my act? Notice I said “reason”; and notice that your utility to me is not an issue here. How would all this be balanced out under a social permission theory of rights?

Well now, I don’t really expect you as a liberal to answer these questions, or to take them seriously, or even to grant that the framing of the speculations is something you would abide or tolerate.

Because of course, these questions are not really meant to change a liberal mind regarding the nature and status of rights by means of pointing out just how incoherent the liberal use of the term rights is, when the term is used in the sense conceived of, and conceded by, liberals.

I know this because I have wasted many hours attempting to get modern-liberals to explain themselves: and their strategy has been, without exception, to either refuse to do so, or to shelter behind the terminology of a moral worldview which they in fact reject.

You liberals, high-minded or low, already know all this too. You know, explicitly or implicitly that you are are spouting clandestinely self-serving rhetoric not reason, and emoting, not deducing, when you speak of “rights”.

So what’s the point?

The point is that: what this exercise is really meant to do is to remind non-liberals that, in the final analysis, modern liberals are motivated by a simple will to power and/or by urges which they themselves don’t care to justify or explore too deeply.

This is a fact of social life which non-liberals need to face, and of which they need to steadily keep reminding themselves.

Liberals are able not only to readily face this view of themselves, they ultimately embrace it; and when pushed to the wall, they will even proclaim it. They see it – entropy, inherent meaninglessness, and ultimate nothingness – as a state of affairs which grants them freedom from ultimate consequences. Insofar of course, as there is a coherent “they” to them, and insofar as “freedom” has any any meaning, insofar as consequences have any significance, and insofar, insofar, insofar …

So, isn’t it about time that conservatives become brave enough to face what it is that liberals are blithely admitting about themselves as liberals?

The good news is I’ve been able to write more involved articles to the benefit of the readers here. It’s something that I actually desire to do and enjoy doing, but it’s because of the bad news that this good news has occurred.

The past Thursday, Friday, Saturday, I was in Salt Lake City, spending over 3000 dollars fixing and maintaining my truck. When I only had a 2100 dollar maintenance account (fed continually from revenue from each of my trips).

Then my student and I went to Idaho to pick up a load, travelled to a suburban area of Chicago, then off toward the Los Angeles megaplex. But on the way there, the truck died in Frisco, CO. Coolant decided to go into a white steam-smoke and also into the oil. The cost of that? Besides spending Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday morning in a hotel in Denver, where hotels are booked (vacation plus legal marijuana) at about 100 dollars a night, there’s the 8000 dollar repair bill. While my maintenance account is completely depleted.

I suspect it will take about 6 months to recover. It would be faster, but from 15 August to 10 September, I’ll be vacationing overseas (travel and lodging already paid for), so my revenue will be seriously affected.

Again, good news in that my readers get more than the “reblog” type articles. Bad news in that in a period of 1 week, I have incurred over 11,000 dollars in maintenance costs plus lodging costs, with next to no revenue to show for it. And if my truck sits still for 1 week, I still have 800 dollars in expenses.

Gianna Jessen
My name is Gianna Jessen… I was aborted, and I did not die. My biological mother was 7 months pregnant when she went to Planned Parenthood in southern California, and they advised her to have a late-term saline abortion.

A saline abortion is a solution of salt saline that is injected into the mother’s womb. The baby then gulps the solution. It burns the baby inside and out, and then the mother is to deliver a dead baby within 24 hours.

This happened to me! I remained in the solution for approximately 18 hours and was delivered ALIVE… in a California abortion clinic. There were young women in the room who had already been given their injections and were waiting to deliver dead babies. When they saw me the abortionist was not yet on duty and had me transferred to the hospital.

I should be blind, burned… I should be dead! And yet, I live! Due to a lack of oxygen supply during the abortion I live with cerebral palsy.

When I was diagnosed with this, all I could do was lie there. They said that was all I would ever do! Through prayer and hard work by my foster mother, I was walking at age 3 ½ with the help of a walker and leg braces. At that time I was also adopted into a wonderful family. Today I am left only with a slight limp. I no longer have need of a walker or leg braces.

…Death did not prevail over me… and I am so thankful!

Teen Breaks has more stories from abortion survivors. Teen Breaks is ready, willing, and able to help teens out. You don’t have to be pregnant, or even a girl, to reach out to them. They’re there to provide a loving environment, information, and a community of support for you as you are bombarded by pressures and life’s travails. If you’re a “cutter”, cutting yourself to regain a sense of control or to zone out or to get relief from life’s stresses, you’re not alone. 1 in 200 teen girls have done it. Teen Breaks is there for you, ready to help you.

Pregnant and need help?
You can talk with someone by phone, e-mail, text, chat live online or be shown where there is a pregnancy center near you. And remember, everything is confidential and free!

A year ago, when I was 21 years old, I met the woman who gave birth to me. I had always dreamed about the day I would meet her, and it NEVER involved the most significant part of it all…learning that I was an ABORTION SURVIVOR. She was 13 years old when she became pregnant with me and the only option she knew of (according to her mother) was abortion. She proceeded to go to an abortion clinic nearby where she had an abortion. A few weeks later she realized she was still pregnant and decided to go to an out-of-state late-term abortion clinic to have a second abortion. During her examination at the late-term abortion clinic, she was told that she had been pregnant with TWINS. One was aborted, and one survived. She was also told that it was too late to have even a late-term abortion. She decided to give me up for adoption when I was born two weeks later. If you ask her now, she will tell you that if she had known the results of abortion vs. adoption, she would have gone straight to the adoption agency instead. Putting me up for adoption (and giving me the best family I can imagine) was a life-changing decision for all of us.

Because of the abortion, I was born 2 ½ months premature and weighed 3 lbs 2 oz. I was on life support and had to stay in the hospital for 2 ½ months until I could be brought home. My hips were dislocated and my feet were turned (because during the abortion, the sac that held my body together was broken) and when I was brought home I had 2 casts on my feet and a harness. I was put in a body cast for 4 months, and I didn’t walk until I was over 2 years old. It still affects me even today.

The Fourth of July is nearing, and perhaps it’s time to again give a little recognition to that quickly passing generation: those who served in WWII

I’ve already placed some images from my family archive on the Veteran’s Day entry, including an image of my Father manning a Bofors training piece, as well as photos both by, and of, my uncle taken in France and Germany. Fortunately, both my father and my uncle are yet with us, with my father being in remarkably good health.

But I thought that here I’d mention another man of that generation. This one, unrelated to me, but a man whom I was privileged to get to know quite well through business.

His long-time nickname, used even in correspondence and on memos, was “Obie”. And I assure you that despite his white hair it had NOTHING whatsoever to do with Star Wars, but everything to do with his initials.

I won’t give out his last name here. But anyone stumbling across the image further down, and seeming to recognize the older man on the right, while recalling an acquaintance with the Christian name of “Roswell Edison …” would have the identity.

Obie’s been gone over a decade now. And as I think back on it, the image below was probably taken of us not too long before his passing. I think, at his own request.

He was a talented man, who had among his various experiences trained as a fighter pilot during the war [for flying Thunderbolts as I recall], but who was never actually sent into combat due to a declining need for officer pilots overseas.

It was obvious however that his Air Corps pilot qualifying and training experience had had a life-long effect on him. Moreso perhaps than having also gone to college, something that traditionally shapes the young man for the future.

He was disciplined, orderly, assertive and aggressive in a positive sense, and prided himself on his ability to, as they would nowadays say, adapt and overcome. He was also good humored and quick witted, if somewhat wry.

One quirk that he did have was that of good-naturedly “testing” people. That is to say, he presented them with, possibly disquieting, little challenges just in order to judge how they would handle the matter. He attributed the impulse to something originating in his officer candidate training experiences. He said that they would throw little shocks at you so as to determine how well and how maturely you could handle them. I suppose it was to see if you had the right stuff to fly combat.

I, don’t know. Maybe he just liked subtle, slightly provoking jokes.

Eventually, I one day turned to him and said, “Haven’t we known each other for years now?” He acknowledged we had.

“And haven’t you had your “testing” fun repeatedly, and found I’m pretty much unflappable? After all I know it’s a game.”

He acknowledged as much.

“You have yourself referred to me as a good friend, despite our generational differences?” Yes, that was true too, he admitted.

“So what’s the further point”?

He laughed and acknowledged there was no longer any. And that was that, the end of it.

Some people didn’t take it so well, but hey, that’s life. On the other hand, some did.

One instance of the kind of response I think he was looking for and know he appreciated, occurred during a long drive back to the city wherein we had to pass through some small lakeside resort town about mid-afternoon and late season. Not having had lunch, and with no obvious place to go anywhere in sight, we loosened our ties, left our jackets in the car, and got out at a slightly fru-fru looking deli-and ice cream shop, only to find it manned by a lone high-school aged girl of indomitably cheerful disposition.

Being naturally cheerful himself, Obie wasted no time after placing the carryout order in engaging in what was a transparently fake curmudgeon-like mini-lecture on how he expected the sandwich to be the best he ever had considering the prices and the tony pretensions of the place. She assured him it would be. “Oh yeah, how do you know?”

“Because”, she happily announced while looking right back at him, “I’m making it myself!”

He beamed at her like she was his own granddaughter. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he said, turning to me.

“Yeah, that’s fine but let’s have a little fewer of these demonstrations of how the human spirit can rise to the occasion, eh?”

He was a good citizen. And as well as a long term USAF Reserve or National Guard pilot (I’ve now forgotten which) who enjoyed flying his own private plane, he was a volunteer fireman back when his upscale township was still semi-rural, and a proficient HAM radio operator, who was always ready to assist in emergencies.

He tried to get me interested in “HAM” radio operation. But even then it was in what I supposed was its waning days; and although a serious involvement probably serves as a practical entre into electronics, I was never able to build up any interest in it.

I always did admire his draughtsmanship though, as he had spent some post-college time on the board before moving on and up. That, skill in technical drawing and lettering, is something CAD and Graphics courses had never given me, much less the subjects of philosophy and the history of law.

Obie was also, and the significance of this trait may at first seem elusive, a good and conscientious record keeper. The point here being the diligence, care, and sense of responsibility he felt for important matters he had been involved in, and toward those who might need to rely on an accurate and truthful record.

This no doubt seems a very small matter and hardly worth mentioning as a character related trait, until one reflects on where we as a nation are when even Federal agencies now “lose” information at their apparent convenience.

It has to do with moral responsibility, you see.

The fighter pilot is on the right

That acceptance of responsibility, and courage and grace in the face of it, came through clearly as he eventually faced death.

He had been for many years, a smoker, and admitted that it was unwise. But, he stated frankly that it was a powerful habit dating back to his military days, and one which afforded him certain benefits in stressful situations. After getting to know him well, I suggested – over drinks – that he stop smoking; while making it plain that I would only suggest it to him that once. He candidly, and even vulnerably replied that although he was as I certainly knew, proud of his ability to “handle any situation”, this one, had him more or less licked. To closely paraphrase, he told me, “My daughters have come up to me crying, pleading with me to quit, and I have tried … but it creeps back.”

As this was just about the time our national anti-smoking mania was climbing toward its peak, it’s probably not surprising to hear that once he was discovered with “shadows” or spots on his lungs, and the diagnosis became “terminal without treatment, likely terminal with”, one of his attending physicians, a zealous young man, decided to deliver a priggish little anti-smoking homily, along with the dismal verdict.

I guess the fellow felt morally entitled to righteously rub the dose in. To which performance, Obie, as he told it, responded: “Stop right there. You’ve delivered the prognosis. You’ve done your duty. You can go, and save the preaching for someone else.” [I think upon reflection, that what Obie actually told me was that he got peeved enough with the doctor in his own hospital to use the words “you’re dismissed” with him . “I told him, ‘You’re dismissed” ‘ .]

At which point, he said, the medical commissar rose in a huff and walked out of the room, never to reappear as one of his attending again.

Obie then, after thinking it over for a bit, decided to forgo any surgical or radiation treatment, in favor of a few palliative measures.

He told me that his age peers among the doctors, informed him after the fact, that that is just what they would have done under the same circumstances. This palliative treatment eventually included the regular draining of fluid build-ups around his lungs. It was a procedure wherein he as patient granted supervised medical trainees permission to work on him as a means of assisting them in the development of their medical skills. No record exists of what if anything the young medical prig made of this gesture.

He had, as I recall, about seven to ten good months during which he still visited the office, several more of moderate well-being wherein several of us were still able to get together for dinner out, and a couple of more or less house-bound ones that occurred during the course of the year end holidays. After which he passed. I hadn’t seen him since sometime before Thanksgiving, I think.

Obie left behind a well provided for wife, three adult and married daughters, two adult and married sons, some grandchildren, and an enviable record as a citizen and a man.

He represents the kind of men of character America used to produce in abundance. It is for the lack of such men in politics, that this nation and culture suffers as it does today.

[Update: Since yesterday and since reentering virtually the same offices and environment in which some of these conversations took place, I’ve been able to recall more exactly the words and phrasings used in some instances, and have redone them to better, though not perfectly, reflect the actual words used in conversation. I may not be a writer, but I can strive for improved accuracy at least. Also, as usual, I have noticed that I put up what was no better than a draft. Made a couple of changes here and there even adding one telling incident, but I think I’ll, again, leave it at that.]

Like this:

HT Bmore (Note: His link changes on a regular basis, so it won’t always show the graphs I have below.)

Take a look at these charts and tell me what correlations you found.

I suggest we amend the Second Amendment as follows: If your voting record is to the Left of The Crying Man* you are not permitted to own guns or knives or any sharp objects. What do you think? Do you think the lying liar# who “bought his way into Heaven” by lying and demagoguery would like the idea?

I know, I know. Correlation does not necessarily mean causation, but the Left are always misrepresenting correlations and declaring by fiat (not the decrepit car company) that their misrepresented correlations necessarily mean causation for their pet takeover desires.

There’s a saying: “You can’t go home again.” Yorkshire wrote about the emotionalist without convictions from the Old Country who found she couldn’t go home again. The resident fifty-dollar-wordsmith (he’s very good with his fifty dollar words) wrote about how the emotionalist emotionalizer tried to rationalize her rationalizations (I’ll leave the big words to the one who is so good with them, heh). Well, my daughter went home again, after 5.5 years in the Army and 15 months in Iraq. And she agrees, you can never really go home again. Everything has changed. Or, like she said, it’s not that everything has changed necessarily, especially in hick-town fly-over country. Sometimes everything has, indeed, changed. Sometimes, it’s that nothing has changed, except for the one who is trying to return. In my daughter’s case, she had changed dramatically and she returned to find everyone she knew from home to be in their same ruts. Floyd still sat in front of the barber shop with next to no customers. Barney still kept his lone bullet in his shirt pocket. Otis was still a drunk. But Laura… Laura had life experiences that forced her to be a different person and made her Rockwell portrait of our hometown completely out of place with reality.

I’m home again. More accurately, I’m in my daughter’s house, having no home of my own. I pay her rent to be able to claim this as my home. But don’t feel too bad for me. I live in my truck. And I’m satisfied with that, for now. See, I have a plan, and that plan requires me to be on the road as much as is possible.

Since March 15, 2013, I had spent a total of 62 hours in my hometown: 30 hours once, 20 hours another time, and 12 hours the third time home. That is, until yesterday. I’m spending yesterday, today, tomorrow at home, leaving out Saturday morning. And I’m really only home now in order to complete an application for a US Passport. I’m just extending my stay, and losing money while doing it.

It costs me about 800 dollars a week to keep up with my truck, if I don’t turn the key to the ignition. So, it’s best that I keep my truck rolling. And my plans of owning a fleet and semi-retiring early require that I keep rolling and maximizing my earnings potential. And that’s what I have been doing.

I leased my truck on June 1, 2013. Since then, I have traveled just over 260,000 miles in my truck and purchased just under 34,000 gallons of fuel, all while training tomorrow’s truck drivers today. I voluntarily stayed on the road for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Easter, Memorial Day, etc, etc. More miles, longer trips, quicker re-loads mean maximized profitability. And means a better opportunity to quit driving altogether more quickly, which is my ultimate goal: I sit at the house and let other drivers make me money. How anti-socialist of me. How American Dream of me. How “corporate shill” (something some clown socialist on Hot Air called me) of this “corporate owner”.

Truth be told, I’m one of the laziest people you will ever meet. And constantly running, constantly rolling, never going home is the ultimate in lazy. It means I can sooner quit working and still living the good life.

But yeah, this retirement community masquerading as a small city is more undesirable that I’ve been gone so much and so long. It feels dreary, too tightly squeezed (after driving across west Texas, west Nebraska, Wyoming, etc), too je ne sais quoi. I spent over 44 years in this town, but it doesn’t feel like home.

It may be emotionalist, and I’m much more into logical than emotionalist, but there it is. I came back, but I’m not home. It just doesn’t have the home feel. The cab and sleeper of my truck has more of a home feel than this place.

One has to wonder whether the apparent solicitation for support for a draft Hillary movement, as presented on AOL was really sincere.

Is this a joke?

If it is really put up by bona fide Clinton supporters, rather than those seeing to mock her as a dour, badly aging, socialist she-troll, then with friends and supporters like that, one would think she hardly needs enemies.

On the other hand, just maybe, and given what we have learned of the peculiar mentality of the left, that image is inspiring to some?

Hi. I’m stubby, ugly, and amoral, and I like sunglasses, and hordes of idiots worship me.

Ok, I held my nose and followed the web address, and it is apparently a sincere, not mocking, celebration of all political things Hillary. Seems these were put up by her dedicated supporters.

In command

“Ready for Hillary Teams Up with Top Obama Campaign Veterans to Build National Grassroots Army

July 10, 2013

MCLEAN, VA – The national grassroots organization Ready for Hillary today announced it is partnering with consulting firm 270 Strategies to harness the energy of the growing number of activists around the country who are inspired and motivated by the idea of a 2016 Clinton candidacy. 270 Strategies, whose partners engineered President Obama’s historic grassroots organizing model, will lead Ready for Hillary’s national organizing strategy and build the group’s field operation. …”

Remember to smile

“I never expected to see this many people here to encourage Hillary to run,” he said. “And this goes to show you the kind of depth she has in the LGBT community for this many people to come out on a Wednesday night and basically give her the message that we want you to run. We’re ready for her.”

Added Fowlkes, “We had a black president and now we’re ready for a woman president. I’m ready.”

Gay Advisory Neighborhood Commissioner Anthony Lorenzo Green, who represents an ANC district in Ward 8, said he too believes Clinton is the best-qualified candidate to succeed Barack Obama as president.

“I prefer Democrats with a backbone,” Green said. “And she has continuously proved that she is not afraid to stand up to these Republicans and let them know that there are people in this country that we really need to look out for and she is the right person to do that.”

Oh geez …

Maybe some of us need to start a new country with people who are interested in something other than living as a pack of nuzzling, snuffling, and mutually grooming polymorphous perverts.

I want you to go to work 9 hours each day, 6 days each week, for 10 months. In this 10-month experience, you will pay no taxes, no rent, no utilities, no insurance; you will buy no food, no gasoline, no bus fare, no clothing, no toiletries, no nothing. You will instead save every penny you earned working those 43 54-hour weeks, at the end of which, you will take all the money -every last cent- to the electronics store and buy a middle of the road laptop computer with Linux installed (not Mac or Windows) and a decent printer. You will pay the cashier every penny you have, and leave none in reserve. After which, ladies, you will spend the next 9 9-hour workdays saving every last penny you earn so you can purchase a black one-piece swimsuit.

Because that’s what those three items cost a particular working woman in the Philippines. 9 hours a day for 198 Philippine Pesos. 22 PHP per hour. 50 US cents per hour. 54 hours a week. And she’s not running around looking for handouts. She’s looking to work to get ahead, by her own merits.

In the PA Legislature our local Senator in the 28th District resigned for personal reasons. The Dems thought they could pull a fast one and push a RINO and far out Lib were going to run in a Special Election yesterday. We do have a Primary in two months which would have worked fine to hold this election. But the rush was on to get the career politician into this seat. One the machine knew he would vote for higher taxes. Well, a ringer Conservative joined the race as a Write-In vote. Now, write-ins usually have a snowball’s chance in hell to make it. However, a miracle happened yesterday, the Write-In candidate WON. Not only WON, but won big time. The Write-In Scott Wagner almost had 11K write-in votes. The RINO and Lib Dem TOGETHER had about 12K votes. So, the wonderment is this, did the dirty campaign have an effect, was this the Obama Effect, was it the anti-incumbent effect, or all of the above? But the article has the vote numbers.

Scott Wagner the presumed winner in 28th Senate

CHRISTINA KAUFFMAN / The York Dispatch

In what appears to be an unexpected victory for a conservative businessman who has made a point of bucking his own party, Republican Scott Wagner is presumed to have won a write-in campaign to defeat party nominee Ron Miller for an open seat in the state Senate.

The closely watched, hotly contested face-off ended in disappointment for the Republican mainstay and a first major victory for the tea party in York County.

With 100 percent of precincts reporting Tuesday night, write-in votes totaled 10,595, or 47.7 percent, to Miller’s 5,920, or 26.6 percent. Democrat Linda Small of New Freedom nearly edged out Miller with 5,704 votes, for 25.7 percent.If all or most of the write-in votes are, as expected, for Wagner, he will have won the race by a healthy margin.

To say the least, I don’t like the chart for what it shows, but I like the blog site. Ken Jorgustin does a good job. Hopefully the circuit breakers at the NYSE Work.

But what I fear the most is the potential chaos this could cause. And after watching the would be Emporer, he would quickly make this an issue to call for country changing edicts all centering around a power grab. BTW, there is always a touch of cynicism and paranoia, or else why write on the Blog?

Like this:

In Article II of the US Constitution, that would be the the one that Presidents swear or affirm to uphold in Article II Section 1. says he shall take the following oath or affirmation:–“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

With that, the President must uphold the laws of the United States. On occasions, the Supremes have said this happens in the “Take Care Clause” which is below in Article II, Section 3.

ARTICLE IISection 1.
The executive power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America.

Section 3.
…………….; he shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed, ……….

Note, it didn’t say just the laws you like, or unilaterally change the laws you don’t like.

The remedy for not doing this is in Section 4.Section 4.
The President, Vice President and all civil officers of the United States, shall be removed from office on impeachment for, and conviction of, treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors.

Now in the last few weeks due to the LAW known as BarackObamaCare, we have seen 5 million people thrown off their then Affordable Health Care, but the reason was, they were inferior to ObummerCare, but they also met the losers needs at a lower cost. BO has caught lots of flack for having a law doing this. And further more, Obummer has told these 5 million at least 29 times they could keep their policy. When called on this, Obummer said he didn’t say that. Now that a minor revolt has happened with the losers, the Reps and Senators seeing what they voted for, they were going to answer for. So, Obummer did what he has done a number of times, unilaterally changed the law. However, instead of doing what he usually does in the middle of the night, he did in the daylight, and poorly. Now Obummer is losing his allies in the Press, in Congress, and has lost the trust of the public.

This is reminding more and more of Nixon. We do have what looks like a probable Constitutional Crisis.

Like this:

I don’t intend to post up any extensive ruminations for Veterans Day. The “blogosphere” will be filled to brimming with retrospectives on the holiday, and on the soldiers, sailors, and airmen, who are veterans of the armed services.

Some significant attention will probably be given to the subject of the dwindling number of WWII veterans still among us.

I thought I would take the occasion to post a few images taken by, and of, a couple of that era’s veterans: brothers, who could not be any closer than they are, nor mean any more to me, than they already do.

Lest we forget.

Over here …

Review on parade grounds at M.B.T.S. N.Y 1945

A young sailor seated at a training piece. Probably a twin 40mm Bofors at Manhattan Beach

Over there

GIs

Dachau Spring 1945. Captioned “Lovely people – these Nazis”

Lined along the grade

German Civilians “volunteer” to lend a hand

German prisoner column marching through forest past US Military vehicles