Month: September 2011

Gun Right Policy Conference coming to Florida.

This hot from the Tweeters!

I could think very few other events to be held in the Gunshine State to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the passage of our Concealed Weapons Permit Law, first step and blueprint for the Shall Issue Laws sweeping our Nation.

And also the fact that I can actually attend the darn thing without having to sell the cat and the truck.

Dork Wear.

I just returned from my local supermarket where I went hunting for some vital foodstuffs to make sub sammiches. At the parking lot of such locale, I witnessed an old custom that spawns all cultures and races: A mother forcing her boy to put on what nowadays would be called “dork wear.”

I had just parked and turned off my truck when I saw a duo of a Mom and a boy about nine to ten years of age, two rows over getting out of their car. I could not hear what they said, but the body language was obvious. For the sake of brevity, I’ll improvose a dialogue.

Boy is wearing a white undershirt. Mom hands over to boy a black T-shirt and says:

Mom: Put it on.
Boy (Pouting): I don’t wanna!
Mom (waving finger): I said put the t shirt on right now mister!
Boy (stomping): But Mom! This shirt is not cool!
Mom (giving him “The Look”): I swear that if you don’t put on that shirt right now, I’ll skin your bony ass when we get home.
Boy (whining big time): But I’ll look like a dork!
Mom (sounding like Darth Vader): RIGHT NOW!

So the boy relents and puts on the shirt. As they were moving towards the supermarket, I could not see what was printed on the front of the t-shirt but my curiosity was piqued. What could it be? Something really dorky for such a sensitive age when we want to be “older” kids like a Barney image or Sponge Bob or God Forbid! something girlie like Strawberry Shortcake or Hello Kitty.  I lunged myself out of the truck and as cautiously and nonchalant as possible caught up to them and quickly gazed upon the boy.

It was an Obama t-shirt, kid you not. The inside of my lips are still bleeding.

There is hope for the New Generation after all.

Michael Moore: Big Fat Target and he does not know it yet.

“The smart rich know they can only build the gate so high. And, and, sooner or later history proves that people when they’ve had enough aren’t going to take it anymore. And much better to deal with it nonviolently now, through the political system, than what could possibly happen in the future, which nobody wants to see,”
Michael Moore

Every time I see one of the Anointed Ones predict riots, death and mayhem as they expect to see when the “revolution” inevitable happens, I can’t help but laugh.

Michael definition of “The Rich” is the common one among the Left Wingers: “Anybody who has more money than me.” Michael also suffers from the traditional Left Winger Blinders and misses a principle: There is always someone poorer than you and that makes you a big fat target of the Revolution against the Rich you are trying desperately to promote. So basically Big Fat Millionaire Michael Moore will have to succumb to having to share his monies with those poorer than him by force of “Law” or by the “pitchforks and torches” treatment.

I know Michael thinks he will not subjected to the ignominy of being forced to be equally poor to the rest because he belongs to the intelligentsia class and hopes to be isolated in his government-secured dacha/condo in NYC. Sadly Revolutions are a funny thing and the Useful Idiots members of the Intelligentsia eventually are taken to the nearest wall for a ballistic re-education, languish in jail or have to take a sudden trip to a non-extradition country or stand next to a Jihadist in a immigration office in Canada claiming political prosecution status.

To all of those who preach “Revolution” a sincere warning: Once started, a revolution is a 24-7-365 event. There are no breaks to watch The X-Factor or to take a vacation to DisneyWorld or to ask for a Mulligan. There are no defined sides in the Revolution or  Safe Zones; You don’t know who will betray you, burn your house or shoot you for the fuck of it. It might be your neighbor or the guy who mowed did your lawn or somebody else you thought was safe.

There are no winners in a Revolution, only people that was so bloodthirsty that the other side quit fighting or simply ceased to exist. And uttering: “I didn’t know it was gonna get this bad” during your post-revolution trial will be as valid an excuse as “I was just following orders” in the Nuremberg Trial.

That is if you manage somehow to survive the Revolution.