Pig in a Poke

I think one of our basic problems is we quit telling our kids the fairy tales, as they were written, - no we had to fix them up and make them better. I remember back in 1980, I bought into the Jupiter Effect, it was a scare which stated that in 1982 there would be a planetary alignment of all nine planets, (before Pluto was demoted) and that the combined gravitational pull was going to disrupt life on earth.

Well it didn’t happen, and I realized, it was no more than a “Chicken Little” story. Global Warming is the same story, “Chicken Little!” Simply a matter of making myself important, by scaring you.

If you want to sell something, first you scare your customer, then you sell him a cure.

I knew early on that Bill Clinton was no more than “The Emperor’s New Clothes” and is the case with Obama, he’s running around naked as a jaybird, and everybody refuses to see.

I think we need to get back to the basic stories & philosophies so the people learn to recognize bullshit when it is presented it to them. Ronald Reagan was very good at using basic stories, like the “Evil Empire” speech, I know he was referring to Star Wars, but Star Wars is a basic story of good and evil that was popular at the time, and the people understood, and responded. No matter how well you dress up a pig, it’s still a pig! Hahahha!!!! It’s true.

George Henry Nichols

Chances are, I got a Ticket

From the collection (Letters to Jo Ann)

Hey from Bangor,

The weather man said it was going to be ten below zero. What the hell good is a ZERO, if we godda get ten below that! It’s so bloody cold I stopped to take a leak and had to use a cork screw to find my ahhh… then I peed a stalagmite. The state is so hard up for money, on my way back I noticed a sign said, “See natural amber formation, $1.00

Ya know when I bought this truck, they said it had 13 speeds, well I can  find ‘R’, ‘N’ and ‘L’ but I be damned if I can find one that says ‘D’. But one good thing, as an old man, they can’t tell if I’m shiftin’ gears or passin’ gas….???? And….Uhhhhhhhh….. Well???... I ain’t sayin’.

          I passed a trooper pointin’ a hair dryer at me (you know all them troopers got a hair dryer these days) and then he pulled me over. “Can’t you read?? That sign back there says trucks and trailers 55 mph!” I said, “sure I saw it, I got one of each, that’s 110 mph, and I was only doin’ 85.” He said, “Boy! Where did you get your license?” I said, “The Jack Daniels’ School of Truck Drivin’, Coke was my sponsor.” He wrote me a ticket.

          You know I weigh eighty thousand pounds, Eighty thousand pounds goes down hill real good, those little econo cars go pretty fast too when they all pile up on your front bumper going down a steep grade. A trooper pulled me over and said. “You know you’re shoven all them cars down this mountain.” “Just doing my part to conserve energy, sir.” He wrote me a ticket.

          The trouble with those little econo cars, they’re hard to wash off your grill.

I just love to teach them how to spell ‘Peterbilt’ backwards (as it appears in their rear view mirror) right before they’re sucked up into my fan.

          I got lost in a residential neighborhood and picked up a thump, thump, thump. A cop pulled me over and said, “You just ran over a little kid on a tricycle and he’s stuck in your duals!!” I said, “That’s all right. I saw him, he had on a safety helmet, and when I pick up some speed, it’ill throw him out.” He wrote me a ticket.

          A lot of trucks have a sign on them that say, ‘No lot lizards’.

I got one on my truck says, ‘Lot lizards welcome, I need a new pair of boots’.

          I bought a 500 watt CB for my truck, it’s got this button on the mike, when you push it a purdy little lite comes on says “on the air” and everybody can hear ya. But when you let lose of it, a bunch of crappy truck drivers start yakin’. So I got me some duck tape and I just tape that button down, now that purdy little lite stays on all the time, and I just sings my heart out going down the hyway. I know they all like it ‘cause they wave when they pass me by. Some of them use a finger, some no finger at all, but they all wave.

You know this thing got 18 tires. I can blow out 15 before I godda stop. I can scatter rubber and alligators over seven counties, (seven states if I’m up north). A trooper pulled me over and said, “You know you’ve blow’d out all your trailer tires and you’ve been plowin’ up pavement and leavin’ ruts for ten miles!! The road behind you is a mess!!” I said. “That’s okay, the road in front of me is fine.” He wrote me a ticket.

          I pulled onto a scale in West Virginny, and was told to pull to the side and come in. So I did, he said, “you’re 1200 pounds over gross, do you know how much you weigh?” I said, “Now look here! I may not be no prize, but I damn shore don’t weigh no 1200 pounds!” He wrote me a ticket. So trying to lighten things up a little I said, “Show is a purdy state you got here. Satellite Dish yor state flower?” He wrote me another ticket.

          I got stopped by a trooper down south, he got out and said, “Boy, don’t you know you’re in Atlanta!” I said rubbin’ my chin, “Atlanta? Atlanta? I’ve heard of Atlanta, now, now don’t tell me?? It’s a little town, let me think, in, oh yea, in east Texas, in a??? No, wait, give me a minute. In a county?? I know, I know. In a county we call, mmm Georgia.” He wrote me a ticket

          I was sittin’ at a counter in a diner havin’ a bowl of chili, when a trooper came in and sat down next to me. Just about then I ripped a stinker, ‘thubleeeeeiup’ I looked at him and smile while fanning the air a bit and said, “Missed a gear, I guess”. The trooper was looking rather pale and fannin’ the air quite a bit, mumbling something about methane pollution in the 3^rd degree, and wrote me a ticket.

          So darlin’, if there is anywhere you want to go, or some’m you want to see, give me a call, chances are I got a ticket.     ©

                                                          George Henry Nichols 

Puppies

I have puppies everywhere, I have puppies galore,

I’m just about fed up with them, I gonna pitch ‘em out the door

Some say they like them, they say there’re cute and nice.

But I just sit here scrach’n , I think they got the lice.

They say you cannot eat them, They say there’re not to sweet,

But I bet if you deep fried ‘em, they’d really be a treat.

Perhaps you could run ‘em thru and toss ‘em on the grill,

With a little sauce and veges,  they’d be Shis-ca-bob to trill.

Perhaps we could boil ‘em up, with a white sauce, oh that’s fine,

Then we could serve ‘em up with a twenty year old wine.

Or toss ‘em in the oven,  of course they’d be under glass

Then feed them to the King and Queen, a meal of course with class.

Perhaps we could bar-b-que ‘em out side for all to see,

And we’d invite the neighbors and tell them its chick-a-dee.

Or sell them to MacDonald’s, to make burgers for the poor,

For I have puppies everywhere, I have puppies galore. ©

George Henry Nichols 

A Bit O Justice or Of Tar and Feathers

From the book

The Life, Times & Adventures of

Sir George Henry Nichols

or

The Legend of Captain Outrageous

The July moon was on the rise when our third attempt at an escape came to a blazing finish. The first attempt was a raft that appeared to be a fine craft, until we put it in the brine and found that it moved on the water, like a piece of cloth, that it to say, it was not at all rigid and soon worked itself to pieces.

The second attempt was a piragua, which we cut from one of the larger trees up the creek a little ways. It was a very large tree, which was felled with the carpenters saw. In fact we had gotten a good many of his tools from the wreck, including an adze, which was very useful in this endeavor. After the tree was felled, all limbs were trimmed from it and hauled away, and an area cleared out around it. It was decided how long the craft should be, the top then cut from it to give us the proper length. We removed the bark and were ready to hollow it out and to give it shape.

With much chopping and burning it was cleared out quite well which indeed gave us a right nice piragua of about twenty-five feet in length, and sitting about seventy-five yards from the creek we were to use to float it down to the sea. But with much effort, and all seven of us at the strain, could not budge it in the slightest. In fact, we couldn't even pick up one end of the damn thing. It seems in an attempt to pick a good stout tree able to carry all of us safely, we had picked one all together too large, for if the truth be known, the piragua lay in the exact place it fell as a tree, and was now no more than a monument to our enterprise. This was something Bob felt he had to point out time and again. 'Pick a tree, the King's own army couldn't move, and shape it into a canoe, wit'out ever realizing it's too 'eavy. What bunch of dunderites are you.' This didn’t set well with those who had done most of the work.

I should point out all this work did pay off in one respect, our living quarters had improved greatly within the pail, as our huts grew in size and tables and chairs were fashioned, though they were crude, for none of us proved to be a carpenter, something Bob found joy in pointing out, most all the time, 'you dunderites couldn't build a chair if it fell out of a tree.' I began to sense that the bunch of us were just about to give Bob something to repine about, he liked it so much.

I, being quite the youngest of the group had little to say, mostly because I wasn't heard when I spoke, spent much time up one of the shoreline palms as a lookout for ships, and was part of the hunting and gathering party along with Willie Wimmer and John Blanchard. The other four did most of the work on the vessels, except Bob who was too busy telling us how it was all but a failed effort, 'We'll all drown, do all this work, build our ‘opes, then we'll drown, you'll see, you'll all see!'

On one of the hunting excursions, shooting small chicken like birds, which had made quite good eating, we ran across the ship's long boat. It was beat up a bit and half buried in the sand, but otherwise appeared to be all there. So John, Willie and I dug the sand from it, in order to free it up and have a closer look, and indeed, it appeared to be in right fine shape. So finishing our hunting, we returned to the pail with the good news of what we had found, along with a good many birds and some fruit.

With the word we had found the ship's long boat, there was much mirth in the camp that night, a bright, cool night as I remember it, with the rising June moon. The birds were roasted and the fruit passed about while we spoke of Jamaica. "Bah! We'll never see Jamaica, tis our fate to grow old and die 'ere on this God forsaken sandbar, you'll see, we'll all see!" Bob kept insisting, he reminded me of that dreadful bloke on the Wizard, and who met his fate in the maelstrom. I thought what an appalling way to view life. For the most part he was ignored, and he shut up for awhile after Lt. Chester told him, "Pipe down ya ole goat for I 'ave ya on a picket and roast ya up for the rest of us to eat, then we'll all 'ave a lit'le peace, and a bit of ole goat, hey." With that, we all did a little cheering, and had a good laugh at ole Bob's expense.

So the next day started our third effort to build a means of escape, except this time we didn't have to build it, just repair one the good Lord had chosen to bless us with. It took all seven of us to carry her from the beach, which was about three miles to the north of the southern point, back to the pail for repairs. She was about seventeen feet long and quite the heavy craft. I for one never dreamed it would be so heavy, it was no wonder we couldn't move the piragua.

The main problem with this craft was it had dried out, and there were gaps between the planks, and it leaked as though it wasn't a boat at all. To remedy this, we brewed up a vat of pitch, which we made from the sap of one of the local trees, which had a very sticky quality about it, and appeared to inure with age. We used this pitch along with coconut husks to make a caulking to fill these gaps between the planks, and seal the boat up. We had her bottom’s up across two logs so we could see and seal all the leaks there along her bottom.

So, after a couple of days, we were just about ready to put this boat in the water for trials, and if it held up, the plans were to rig it with a sail and rudder in order that we may determine a course, which was most desirable, for otherwise we would be at the will of the sea, or we should have to row it to Jamaica.

Bob, while stirring the pitch, was again telling us how this boat would never carry us all, and that we would most likely drown at sea. When he pulled the paddle from the mixture, he dragged a bit of the pitch into the flame, instead of scrapping it from the oar, as we all knew to do. This of course set the oar on fire, which gave Bob the fright. He began to run around, swinging the blazing paddle about in a most disconcerting manner. As he came around the vat of pitch he tripped over one of the tripod legs, and fell face first into the sand, sending the blazing oar flying thru the air and onto the boat, which set it to flaming right quick, for it was covered in fresh pitch, and burned quite hot indeed. All efforts to put it out failed, including water, which seemed to just roll off of it as though it were a blazing duck.

This upset all of us quite, and David Mitcham shouted, "you dunderite, I'll 'ave your 'ead I will, I'll not stay 'ere with the likes of you." Then picking up one of the swords, made a move for Bob.

That's when Chester stepped in and said, "Now David, we don't 'ave to 'ave 'is 'ead"

Then William said, "Let's tar 'im up like a big bird, and see if 'e don't suit us better!" Everyone froze, this idea played well, as they all mulled it over, I didn't know of what he spoke, but I could tell the rest did, and it appeared to suit them quite.

Then William looked at me and said, "George, go and get t’at sack o’ feat’ers in the ‘ut, we goin' 'ave some justice we are!" So I ran to the pail and got the sack of feathers, (from all the birds we'd been eating), as I did this I heard Bob start screaming. When I returned, they had him stripped down to nothing and was smearing him with hot pitch, Bob for his part was screaming and trying to put up a struggle, but they were angry indeed and not to be denied. When they had him covered in pitch, from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, they hit Bob with the feathers, and the feathers stuck to him fast. By the time they turned him loose, he looked a bit like a battered wild goose, truly an amusing sight he was, as he ran about screaming what a bunch of heathens we all were, and this put us all in a better mood, save Bob, as our third attempt came to a blazing conclusion. ©

George Henry Nichols

Fate of the Oxford

As taken from the Novel

The Life, Times & Adventures Of

Sir George Henry Nichols

or

The Legend of Captain Outrageous

by

George Henry Nichols

conclusion chapter five

Then, with all the suddenness of a single moment, and so well lit that I saw every detail, the entire ship exploded, and in that moment, I saw it in thousands of pieces, with me hanging there among them, indeed one them. I saw all the men across the table from me, impaled, a thousand times, with a thousand splitters, in an instant. Then we all began to fall, we must have been three stories above the water, but we all fell together, some of the burning pieces would catch the air and flutter back a bit, but mostly, we fell simultaneously. Then plunging deep into the water, I immediately started to swim for the surface, when the surface came, the ship was raining fire down upon me, so I caught a quick breath and dove under the water to avoid the falling debris. When I came up and there was still a good bit falling, but now it was dark, the flash had gone, and there were only a few fires on small pieces of floating debris. Again I dove to avoid the rain of embers, and swam around underwater as long as I could, and when I broke the surface this time, the commotion was about over. I caught my breath and looked around for something to cling to, I soon found a hatch cover and climbed up onto it.

I must have been growing quite delirious, for at that moment Vicky's face came to me and I could hear her singing;

There is a lane, which has no turning

just ahead of me a ways.

There is a lane, which has no turning,

I've looked for it for days and days.....

I laid there on that hatch cover and cried forever so long, I saw her sing me that song over and over. I saw her soft blue eyes and could smell her blazing hair and I touched her fair skin. I wept in a most disgraceful manner, I had no control at all, my sobbing continued until I thought I heard someone calling. Then I realized how loudly my ears were ringing, I did not even recall hearing the blast, but indeed I had heard someone calling, a far off hollow sound, perhaps it was boats from the other ships, rowing about looking for survivors. I called out to them, but I couldn't hear my own voice, weak and hollow feeling, every nerve in my being was all a hum. I laid there on that hatch cover, too weak to sit up, and just breathed through my voice, though I couldn't hear it, perhaps those in the boats could. Again I found myself among the living, God had yet, granted me a reprieve, and I found the time to give him thanks that night, as I was hauled aboard the Satisfaction.

When the count was done, they had found Harry, Collier, the Surgeon, old man Morris, a seaman, four cabin boys and myself, some 250 men were dead, blown to bits. The Oxford? Rubbish now cluttering the beaches of Cow Island, a spattering of firewood for little girls to gather. The dead, they were there too, hiding among the dross. The crabs and birds? They ate well. ©

God of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its ice-field, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbor and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wobbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Rudyard Kipling

1865-1936

Be Wary of Tragedy

My heart goes out to victims who survived and the families of all the victims. This is a time of shock, grief and mourning. As to the dead, none of my business, God will sort that out, and he alone. As a Catholic, I petition my Lord Jesus Christ, please have mercy on their souls. Amen.

Beyond this, I concern myself not, because pain is personal. Things like shock, grief, mourning and even dying are very personal. No one can be shocked for you, no one can grieve for you, no one can do your mourning for you, and most important, no can pass thru the doorway of death for you. These things are part of the cross we bare. And I have no right to horn in on someone else’s tragedy.

But I do have the right to address how this is going to affect me.

This is part of the problem we have with the media, especially in this day and age of instance information and on the spot live reporting, brought right to you.

As a result, the entire country is caught up in their Shock, grief and mourning, when in earlier generations, a tragedy like this would have been localized, with impersonal articles about it in the papers.

We as a country should not get caught up in a tragedy like this. One; it’s really none of our business, and two; if affects the mood of the entire country.

Okay people, realize we fight the devil here as well as Obama and the liberal establishment. With a local event like this, Satan drags down the mood of the entire country. We become a country of perpetual grief and mourning, caught up in everyone’s tragedies, this is not healthy on a personal level, and can devastate the character of a nation, robbing us of our energy, trust and good will. This is one of the stickiest tar babies we face, because it pulls at our guilt and heart strings. Liberals love playing guilt and heart strings, its music to their ears (because it represents control).

Satan plays to your weakness; he keeps you emotionally distraught and distracted by bringing everyone’s tragedy right to your person. Let those involved deal with their tragedies, and bring the joy back into the American Spirit. Look around, bless and kiss your wives and daughters and count and celebrate your blessings.    

Consider if this had happened a hundred years ago, we may not even know it for a day or two, perhaps up to a week, and the impact would not stand in the way of our day to day life and the way we feel. Why? Because we would read it in the paper, or hear it on the radio, we would have said, ‘What a Tragedy,’ said a pray for them and that would have been that. And as a result, the nation had a happy spirit about it because most people are happy.

But as it is, we see the crying, the yelling, the fear, the gunshots and the panic over and over right there in our own living rooms, dragging us down to the depths of emotional despair. And if we are happy, then we feel guilty and get all politically correct so we don’t offend some unhappy fool.

I say to any of you God fearing Christians out there, it is your moral duty to be happy, for did not Christ bring us the good news! Death is a doorway and not an end, and therefore death truly is not a tragedy. And be damn with anyone who isn’t happy, you owe them no apologies. God and God alone is the source of your happiness, do not apologize for God.

I say again, we have a battle with the media, they demand and live so much of our lives for us. They are big brother, turn the shit off. Do not spend time, energy and emotional response on someone else’s tragedy, spend these things in our own life.

A person just has so much emotional energy. This emotional energy is a big motivator in one’s life. We are at war here for the soul of America. We need this energy to do the things that need to be done. Don’t let big brother rob you of it. You bark and bark and bark at things like this, just a barking at that damn television and/or computer. Barking dogs don’t bite!

If you know your history, things like this happen all the time, not so often as not to be shocking, but often enough that you should understand, crazies are out there, and things like this are just going to happen. They just are… We nailed Christ to a tree; he did not promise us a tragic free life.

We are at war here, and this tragedy will be used by the left to make a run for our guns. They are going to come at us like a forest fire; you have to build a back fire.

In 1920 we passed a prohibition against alcohol. Did it work? The 1920 were some of the bloodiest years in our history, because people are going to have their booze, and all the prohibition did was create a bunch of criminals. The people drinking it, the people making it, the people selling it, the people transporting it, everyone was a criminal over night.

A prohibition on guns is not going to make them go away, it’s impossible. Let’s not try to do something that can not be done. Let’s not make a nation of criminals with a stroke of a pen, leaving ourselves open to any enemy foreign or domestic.

The one thing a tragic situation like this should tell you, is government CAN NOT protect you. All they do is show up afterwards; fill out reports and the news media and politicians grandstand. And they blame it on the gun.

Guns don’t kill people, criminals do. If anyone in there had been armed, this would have ended lickity split. I know he was wearing all kinds of bullet proof gear, tells me he was a coward, if someone would have started shooting back, he would have run like the hare before the hound. Notice he waited on the cops.

This was done for fame; he’s got another 10 to 15 years before they execute him, if they do. And he’ll be famous the whole time. And we are going to give it to him. Movies will be made, books written so on and so forth… and we feed the beast… Do your part, shoot a criminal.

There should be a speedy trial and a public hanging, and any wanna be’s will think twice.  Justice delayed is justice denied.

Men, if you have a woman in your life, and you don’t carry a gun, you’re a damn fool. There are three basic motivating factors worth fighting and dying for, food sleep and sex. And your woman is a target for one of these. 

This is how the peace is kept, if every man can defend himself and what’s his, then every man is defended, and so goes the country. The Japanese never would have tried to invade the mainland, because every Tom, Dick and Harry had a gun, and knew how to use it, and the Japanese knew this.

There are so many cases where if one of the good guys had had a gun, things would have been different. Arm yourselves, practice, burn some ammo and support the people who make it.

People, we can not give up our guns.

You can not reason with the unreasonable, quit trying. Its time to stand up and take the arrows of outrageous fortune and set thing right, it our job and our duty.

My fellow Americans, do not give up your guns, they are your only hope. Do not put your faith in men, instead cling to your God, for he loves you and knows you, and your guns, which in this promise land, he gave you, make good use of them.

May God Bless us all.

George Henry Nichols

They are Without Reason

I was trolling for readers the other day on Twitter, and I threw out the bait, ’Where did all these stupid people come from,’ along with the link to my essay, ‘The Plague of Stupid People.’

http://thebiggalootfrom.blogspot.com/2012/02/safety-revolution.html

A young woman replied almost immediately, “The public school system has been dumb-ing down kids for decades, the left owns the school systems and unions, and smart people value freedom and are of no use to the left.”

I replied, “That’s not stupid, that’s ignorant, you didn’t read the paper.”

After a short while, she returned and conceded I was correct, and that she hadn’t read the paper.

But she drove home a very important point to me, and for that I thank her.

We here at the Tea Party, Libertarians, true Republicans operate on reason. We like things to add up. We possess principles, and these principles are based in truth, and believe our laws should be based in truth. If you’ve read my essay on Law then you understand a culture’s traditions and laws have to have a foundation in truth, or it collapses.  

http://thebiggalootfrom.blogspot.com/2012/06/law.html

The left’s entire ideology is based on envy, not only a sin, but with no foundation in truth beyond the instincts of the animal. Which brings me to my point; we are dealing with animals here. The left is filled with stupid and ignorant people. The idiots can’t be held responsible. They operate just like animals, the human being, being a predator, consumes everything, as quickly as possible, until it is gone. Then on to the next kill. Tell me if that’s not what you see going on. I dare you!

I am going to return to my metaphor laid out in ‘The Real Problem,’

  http://thebiggalootfrom.blogspot.com/2012/07/what-are-we-going-to-do.html

The fox is the liberal establishment, while the bear is the common democrat. The fox is not going to respond to reason, because he doesn’t believe in the law, and uses it to his own purposes. He is no more than a predator stalking prey in the tall grass of the law. http://thebiggalootfrom.blogspot.com/2012/06/law.html

The bear follows the fox and eats the remains of the kill. Lawyers make all of this possible, because the rabbit believes in the law, and is obedient to it. In this scenario, we are eaten.

Quit struggling with the Tar baby, they are not going to respond to reason, not going to happen. Reason is a tool they use against us in the form of Tar Babies; I can’t drive that point home enough. We are doing exactly what they want. While we struggle, they close in for the kill.  

In the old west, we ostracized the bear and hung the fox. It worked, and we tamed the west, and created a culture that touched the moon.

Predators attack when their prey is running, if the prey turns and challenges the fox, this goes against his instinct, and he backs off. Think about the bully, those of us who have dealt with a bully know, if you punch him in the nose, he doesn’t bother you anymore. Predators don’t want to fight, they want to kill.

Learn to use the Media, believe what you think, believe it enough to speak it. Buy an ad in the paper, if they refuse to print it, sue them, better yet, buy the paper. Buy a billboard; they’re cheap believe it or not, check into it.

Use the Media, again, show up at events, take time off work, pull money out of the bank, film everything. Bears follow winners, confidence inspires, even among the stupid and ignorant.

Plain and execute stunts, like placing guards at cemetery gates on Election Days, hold Tea Part Rallies in cemeteries, present newborns with a billing invoice for their part of the debt (as a reminder to parents) in the name of Big Government. Be prepared, anticipate the media’s stupid questions and respond.

 

I’m always saying, barking dogs don’t bite, because they don’t. You want to shake up a liberal, quit barking at him and growl… he’ll look like this:

                                                                                 oh crap…

Remember, Politicians don’t lead us, they are representatives of us (the sovereign), WE LEAD THEM, let’s get with it.

As always, let’s do these things because they are right, and do them in the Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, for he alone is King and he alone should we serve. Pray for our country, and then bless and kiss your wives and daughters.

George Henry Nichols 

How a Crock of Shit Becomes Policy

• Ever wonder how things can get so screwed up. Is it a lack of communication? Consider the following story…..
  
  In the beginning was the plan
  And then came the assumptions
  And the assumptions were without form
  And the plan was completely without substance
  And the darkness was upon the faces of the Workers
  And they spoke unto their Group Heads, saying:
  "It is a crock of shit and it stinketh".
  And the Group Heads went unto their Section Heads and sayeth:
  "It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odour thereof' ..”
  And the Section Heads went unto their Managers and sayeth to them:
  "It is a container of excrement, and it’s aroma very strong,
  . Such that none here may abide by it".
  And the managers went unto their Director and sayeth unto him:
  "It contains that which aids plant growth, and it’s fragrance is very powerful".
  And the Director went unto the Assistant Deputy Minister
  and sayeth unto him:
  "It promoteth growth, and it is very powerful".
  And the A.D.M. went unto the Deputy Minister and sayeth unto him:
  "This powerful new plan will actively promote the growth and
  Efficiency of the Department, and this area in particular".
  And the Deputy Minister looked upon the plan,
  And saw that it 'was good’.
  
  And this is how a crock of shit becomes policy.
  
  Now you might wonder how something like the above can actually take place. Well consider the following story…….
  
  When the human body was first made, all of its parts had a meeting.
  
  They all agreed there had to be a leader, a boss, to make sure everything ran smoothly.
  
  First the brain spoke up saying he should be boss cuz he coordinated every function.
  
  But the heart objected saying if it wasn't for him constantly pumping life's blood to every part, nothing could happen.
  
  Then the lungs interjected, "I should be boss cuz I supply the oxygen necessary for the blood to be viable.
  
  "Wait a minute," responded the liver. "I make sure the blood and other vital fluids are healthy constantly cleansing them of toxins and poisons.
  
  Even the spleen extolled it should be boss cuz he was the one who actually manufactured enough blood so the body could function.
  
  This went on and on with the arms, legs, kidneys, stomach, eyes, teeth and all the other parts putting in their arguments why they should be boss.
  
  Then when all thought the debate was over, the "asshole" boastfully bellowed, "I demand to be boss!"
  
  Upon hearing that, all the other body parts broke out into loud laughter at that "absurd" idea.
  
  Taken aback by that harsh rebuke of his demand, the asshole puckered up refusing to participate in any more discussion.
  
  Soon the brain became dizzy and feverish.
  
  The heart struggled to keep pumping.
  
  The lungs found it increasingly difficult to draw in much needed air.
  
  The arms soon hung limply to the side.
  
  The eyes blurred.
  
  And so it went with every part of the body.
  
  And emergency meeting was called. And soon all capitulated for the sake of the whole.
  
  So that's how the "asshole" became the boss.
  
  
  Now I know you think this was all meant to be funny, but is it really???
  
  The reason that we have such shit policy is because assholes are in charge. It's time for them to go. Remember, shit flows down hill.