The Hand That Cocks The Trigger.........

CP and I went to the range for practice. Tomorrow is our course for our concealed carry permits. This is actually CP's first shot. As usual, she shoots better than me. I don't think she will have any trouble qualifying in the morning. She sings better than me, she plays the fiddle better than me, and now she shoots better than me!

This message brought to you by Stupid

When Babba needs a new pair of shoes for work it is a quest. About a year ago one of my "Faded Glory" Wal-Mart cheapie work shoes went missing. I think it got thrown into the laundry with all the dirty scrubs no one ever puts in the bin. My mind turned to my co-worker, who had been hobbling around on one leg after a motorcycle accident... Naturally he came under suspicion.

After years of looking, my favorite shoes made a return to the " Big Box Store". However, after returning three pairs I'm unable to rekindle the bliss that was my prior work shoes. For the last year I have been wearing an old pair of New Balance sneakers that are so worn out that when I step in blood I can tell what type it is.

This is all leading up to my account of my weekly Saturday morning trip to Wally's to return the shoes. Usually it's a quick, no hassle transaction that results in $21 cash in my hand. This morning I happened to get the assistant store manager. First she acts like returning a purchase is something unusual. Then she calls about three other people on her head-set to ask for advice. Then she examines the shoes for a couple of minutes. I told her I only wore them a few hours at home. (Really, I wore them four hours at work with shoe covers on.) All three pairs of shoes felt great for four hours before turning into the "Iron Maiden" of footwear. Eventually the manager starts pecking at her register and stops to call another associate to see if she can give me cash or does she have to credit my Visa card. Unlike the usual schlep help she is unable to give me cash back and has to credit my card. It's been about 15 minutes by now, but finally the transaction is complete. Why is that everywhere I go, including where I work, the bosses are dumber and more inept than the staff? I sense an epidemic of managers that lead from the rear. They are wholly inadequate to do the job they are supervising. This leads to a lack of respect for management. Where I am I'm surrounded by managers that are "all hat and no cattle". Their major qualification is their ability to spout the company line. Next time I return my shoes at Wally's and see a management type behind the service desk, I'll keep walking in my cheap shoes.

Just another tid -bit: At a state licensed day care facility they fed the kids windshield -wiper fluid thinking it was Kool-Aid. This has the bacon-y stink of management all over it.

Same Old Gas

No, it's not the Capitol, this is an underwater volcano in the Straight of Sumatra. I wonder how many carbon credits this will offset. Reminds me of Krakatoa, the sound heard a third of the way around the globe. This is the way my God talks. It's His little way of telling mankind, "I crap bigger than you". God is mysterious. Accept it and move on.

The same three questions remain today that were first asked in Eden: Where are you? What have you done? Who told you? Where are we today? Hiding from God. What have we done? Slaughtered the innocents. Who told us we could? That's obvious.

Another Rant

Has anyone noticed the coarsening of our culture since B.J. Clinton occupied the oval orifice? I'm talking about tattoos , piercings, foul language , scrotums hanging from trailer hitches etc. I'm not talking about your run of the mill bottom feeders. I see professional, highly educated people with Chinese characters tattooed on their arms that probably translate to "Mu Shu Pork". I also see a lot of lower back tattoos (tramp stamps). (I'm always looking to see if one is a "map to dry land").

It's usually the people on welfare that have the nicest tattoos. We joke that if someone has at least three piercings, five tattoos and a full body tan you can bet they're on Medicaid. I like the three hundred pound 40 year old gals that have a "Tweety Bird" on their hips. I feel like telling them, "I really didn't find you attractive till I saw your body art". The same people who come to a hospital to have a wart taken off under general anesthesia will go into some sleazy parlor and have some stranger paint and pierce them.

I met a W.W. ll veteran who had some racy tattoos. He told me he had to cover them up in public when he returned from the Pacific. My father had four tattoos, he wore long sleeve shirts even in the summer. Now there is 600 million dollars in the stimulus package for tattoo removal. Since the government paid for the original scar why shouldn't they pay for their removal? Even after being removed the skin grafts are not attractive. My daughter once was fleetingly considering getting a tattoo when she turned twenty one. I told her how I felt, but she was an adult. I told her she could get as many as she wanted. The only thing I asked was that her first tattoo say "WHITE TRASH".

I never got a tattoo, probably because of my father. I don't have any piercings because I always hope to end life with the same amount of openings I started with.

Narcissus Obama

Our President is a narcissist. This makes him possibly the most dangerous leader our country has ever had. Obama's background contains many of the pathologies that generated another monster, Adolf Hitler. They both are illegitimate, sexually confused, ethnically confused, parentally abandoned, silver tongued race-baiting antisemites. The question is whether our republic is strong enough withstand his rhetoric and charisma. Obama would rather see America destroyed than continue as a nation of free people. I don't see a good outcome here.

It's not about: your 401K
the best medical care in the world
the constitution
the second amendment
G.M. and Chrysler
illegal immigration
Israel
freedom
creativity
It's ALL about Obama.

I have found John Galt. He is alive and well on Wall Street. He is stopping the motor of the world. American Capital has gone on strike.

Click Here For Your Free Sham-Wow

I have noticed an increase in the number of commercials on my cable T.V. Between 4 and 5 am that's all that's on the tube. Even the History Channel, my favorite Ambien substitute switches to "paid programming". I expected the usual hucksters selling duct tape that draws the toxins out of your body through your feet or magnets that stop the pain of arthritis, but the Obama Recession has also increased the number of regular commercials. Besides being able to go to the potty during a commercial, I can now make a pizza and have a shower before the program resumes.
The Obama Recession hasn't hurt the late night "name it and claim it" aka "blab it and grab it" preachers. These people are truly a boil on the butt of the church body. It is late night insanity. Peter Popoff (aka Peter Rip-Off) is hawking some Melba Toast that he claims is magic manna from heaven. This manna has a secret recipe of eleven herbs and spices that God personally delivered to Peter. Matthew 14:36 itself has revitalized the textile industry in the south. I can't find any red or green remnants at Foam and Fabric; the red "prayer hanky" is for physical healing and the green is for a financial blessing. The green hanky is also available as a pocket square for those hedge fund managers that need a special touch.

O.K. you're saying what's the point of Babba's harangue? My point is that the Billy Mays's and Elmer Gantry's take advantage of the foolish and simple people who our education system has failed. The hucksters also take advantage of the elderly, mentally retarded and Alzheimer's sufferers . There is a special corner in hell where they will be tormented by all the crap they peddled. The people giving testimonials look strangely similar to those at Obama rallies.

I'm feeling a bit depressed after writing this. I need to go put some some foil on my head, sit on my Sham-Wow and work my abs.

No Recession in Charleston SC

We went to Hyman's Seafood Restaurant in Charleston. This dish of Shrimp Scampi is already short about eight shrimp I ate before I regained my senses enough to take a picture. There was a 45 minute wait to get into the seafood restaurant--voted the best nine years in a row by Southern Living magazine. I made sure not to have any Maine Lobster, although I was wearing an L.L. Bean shirt, sport coat and shoes.

We stayed at the the luxurious Planters Inn. It is one of Charleston's most historic and tallest buildings. Of course they put us on the top floor, which was a mistake. At least when they moved us this time, it wasn't into a room looking out over the air conditioning unit.

CP went shopping for that elusive Mother of the Bride Dress while I went to my meeting. After five hours of driving 70 mph and being passed by 4,675 cars and trucks going 85 mph we are back home in time to hear Blue Grass Music at the Feed & Seed.