Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet.

Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet

Virginia State Constitution: Article 1; Section 13
That a well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the proper, natural, and safe defense of a free state, therefore, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; that standing armies, in time of peace, should be avoided as dangerous to liberty; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.

Alabama State Constitution: Article 1: Section 26
That every Citizen has a right to bear arms in defense of himself and the State.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #110

Steampunk postal match

Brigid and EJ are hosting a challenging epostal shooting match this month. (June)

Cool theme, and it looks like it would be a lot of fun to shoot. I'm going to try to get a target in next weekend or so. You should too.

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Blast from the Past

Shelby (of the defunct A Girl and Her Gun) put this on the book of Faces. It's stuck in my head like an earworm.

My husband, a leader of Marines, a combat veteran, who most certainly knows the price, has always said the best way to honor those who lost their life is not to waste yours.

I can certainly attest that her husband is a gentleman and a scholar. (Even though he's a Marine)

Memorial Day has passed, but, for some, every day is Memorial Day.

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Inappropriate Humor in 3...2...







Friday, May 30, 2014

I Shouldn't Have Done It

That little voice in the back of my head was warning me* when he said, "I know a place just around the corner..."

Woody's River Roo



Great joint, good prices, good food and all the Rolling Rock you can drink.

and today it's a ten-hour drive back to Birmingham.


* Don't drink with the salesmen.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

All Chipmunks Must Die

Seriously.
Even with the funny face and the cute stripes down their backs...they're rats.

They're not an endangered species or something, are they?
Little bastards are wrecking my lawn.

Any suggestions?
No way do I have time to hang around on the back porch all day with a BB gun.

Traps?

Poison?

Fire?

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Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sunday morning sleep-in #90

All the best schadenfreude on the internet is over this bit where Remington is moving to Alabama, and New York politicians are whining like the spoiled children they are.

Alabama isn't just gun-friendly, we're business-friendly.
As soon as Remington's plans went public, construction started on many of the roads between the airport and the old Chrysler facility. Crews are out there every day widening and improving all the roads that will be used by the executives and workers at Remington's new plant.
Personally, I thought Remington could have found a place just as nice or nicer down here in B-ham, but I'm biased that way. Also, when I'm working up in Decatur, I usually stay at the Hampton or Holiday Inn Express in Madison and drive in from there. All that "Remington" construction is screwing up my commute.

Waa.

OBTW. With all of the contractors in the area now, the hotel rates in Madison have taken a little jump north.

Moar Waa.
(This whining is Conservative whining, based on "There are so many gainfully employed people around here, they're getting in the way of my gainful employment." Not to be confused with Liberal whining, based on "These people just won't listen to what I say is best for them.")

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Let me throw out some advice to all the Yankees that are going to come scrambling down here to work at the Remington plant.

Start practicing your "Sir" and "Ma'am" now.
Politeness has been refined to an art form here in Alabama. As a twenty-year enlisted veteran, it took me some time to get used to the fact that when someone called me "Sir" they were not, in fact, insulting me.

Pro Tip: Your elders will always be addressed with a title of respect, even after they have told you to call them by their first name. For example, the elderly widow who lives next door, (Let's call her Mabel.) Is still addressed as "Mizz Mabel" by me, and anyone else who is her junior.

Go ahead and smirk, assholes.
Take heed of my advice, or you're bound to be hearing a whole bunch of "Bless your heart, honey." when you're down here.




Saturday, May 24, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #109

I got nuthin'...

Navel Gazing - The Next Level

by Jenny Lawson

Go buy some shit from her

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Har...

Larry's Life - Explained

It's not just a Mustang thing.

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Pay Attention in Class

Shotgun Reality Check

David brings the truth

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A cautionary tale

Fire Ants - We got 'em

I wonder how much "nipples" brought up his blog stats...

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So that's my average Saturday morning.
Jess's bit on the fire ants reminds me that a new mound has popped up in the front yard. I'll have to drop some poison on it, after I've mowed it over and stirred them up a bit.
I have to go pick up Mrs B's new "cocktail table" for the living room today. I'll drop by the grocery store and pick up something to grill while I'm out.

No Memorial Day for me. I will be back in Georgia working on Monday.

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You know. Once upon a time, a woman had to have some meat on her in order to be called "sexy".






Thursday, May 22, 2014

My New Truck

Came with Sirius XM satellite radio.

I'm hooked on the Outlaw Country channel.




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Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Catching Up

Virginia doesn't honor my Alabama carry permit.
I spent most of last week up there, and I had to open carry the whole time.

Not a big deal, but it got me thinking. I'm headed into my second summer down here in Bama, and I think I've only seen one person open carrying down here. With the heat and humidity, I thought I'd see open carry a lot more.

Hmmmm.

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With all that time off, I was finally able to finish reading David Brin's Existence.

Good solid science fiction. I highly recommend it.

Check out his blog.

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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

The Graduate


Miss B will be attending The College of William and Mary this fall.
(Donations will be accepted)

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Saturday, May 10, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #108

No doubt, my blogging is taking a serious hit this week.
I've got my one day off, so I'm not going to hang around here and complain about my job. I'm going to get to work on the things that need working.

I'll try to catch up next week.



Friday, May 9, 2014

Still...

I had to do that whole "roll to the side" thing to get out of bed this morning. I could not sit straight up to save my life.

Coffee, cigarettes and Motrin for breakfast.

I'm getting too old for this shit.

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Sunday, May 4, 2014

Sunday morning sleep-in #89

A story for Borepatch...


So...I'm in the tank.

No, not the drunk tank.

It's a water softener. A big mother, ten foot diameter and about 18 feet tall.
It's just one step in the process, but it's the step that's decided to give us problems this week.
This is the part of the job no one likes to talk about unless we're getting drunk enough to start showing scars and bragging. Sure, it's a great job. Comes with a free truck, free laptop and all the other trimmings. (Including a pretty decent paycheck, but sometimes you have to earn that paycheck.) Earning that paycheck is why I always carry a change of clothes under the seat of my 'free' truck, and why I buy all my shirts in thrift stores.
We've pulled all the resin out of the tank so I can squeeze my fat ass in through the side manway along with one of my (skinny) technicians. We're in there rooting around in the bottom in slime, mud, fish poop, rotting vegetation and anything else that comes out of a river swollen by spring rains.
My IT guy is on site as well, one of those "two birds with one stone" things. If we're going to be down for a day, there's always some crappy code he stuck in there a year ago that he wants to get back into and fix. You know how programmers are....
So my IT guy starts getting hungry. I think it's a programming thing, maybe something to do with the monitor refresh rate setting off a Pavlovian urge for greasy chips and Mountain Dew. He comes wandering out onto the floor looking for us. Some contractors standing around point him toward the tank, and what does he do? He picks up a little three-pound sledge and  Bangs. On. The. Tank. ...three times.

Asshole.
I know he can hear me cussing from inside before I even get my head and shoulders out of the hole.

MSgt B - What. The. Fuck.
IT Guy - What's for lunch?
MSgt B - The fuck should I know? What are you going to pick up for us?
IT Guy - Um...pizza?
MSgt B - Pizza sounds good.
IT Guy - Okay. Pizza it is. He's starting to get this funny smirk on his face, just staring at me.
MSgt B - What?
IT Guy - You look like shit, dude.
MSgt B - Gee, thanks.
IT Guy - No, seriously. You're all brown and you're hanging out of that hole...and you've got that light on your hardhat. You look like...a turd with a headlight. Har!

He finally breaks out laughing at his own razor wit. The contractors standing around all apparently think this is the funniest thing they've heard all day as well.

MSgt B - Ha ha, motherfucker. Make sure there's jalapenos on one of them, and don't hammer the fucking tank when you get back.

Forty minutes later, what do you think he does to let us know the pizza's there? You guessed it...

Asshole.

That's what I love about the guy.

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ETA - Jess has a good work story. No IT guy, though.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #107

Keep Off The Median

I don't remember ever seeing those signs up north in Yankeeland.
Just the other day, I was rolling down about a five mile stretch of brand new highway in north Georgia. There must have been one of those "Keep Off The Median" signs about every half-mile down the whole stretch.
I began to think to myself that long stretch of green down the middle of the highway must be too much of a temptation for Bubba and his jacked-up 4x4.

Georgia is the only state down here where my GPS has actually taken me down dirt roads. (Red. Just like in the song.) It's happened three or four times over the last year.

Generally speaking, I don't think people down in this part of the country are too attached to paved roads, as a concept.

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Friday, May 2, 2014

Friday!

My throat is parched and my eyes are watering from all the trail dust.
It's time to turn this horse around and get back to the ranch.