"If you dig it, do it. If you really dig it, do it twice."

- Jim Croce

Bwahahahahah!!!!

The Drudge Report went with the headline "Brokeback Bathroom."

Larry Craig...is done.

Let it be said that we in The Brier Patch do not tolerate "Packing of the Fudge".

I feel bad for his wife...and worse for his mother

If a male and a female want to glide one in, in a airport bathroom...or wherever...I have absolutely no problem with that, but I do have a problem with queers. I think we should just shoot 'em, and be done with it.

Just my opinion.

Fucking Classic....I first saw my boy Ted live back in the 70's...Liked him then...Like him more now.

Billy's homework assignment is to think of a true story with a moral so he goes home and thinks about it all night and finally has one. The following day, Suzy raises her hand and says, "My dad owns a farm and every Sunday we load the chicken eggs on the truck and drive into town to sell them at the market. Well, one Sunday we hit a big bump and all the eggs flew out of the basket and onto the road."

The teacher asks for the moral to the story. Suzy replies, "Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

Next is Lucy. "Well, my dad owns a farm, too, and every weekend we take the chicken eggs and put them in the incubator. Last weekend only 8 of the 12 eggs hatched. The moral is, don't count your chicks before they are hatched.''

Billy is last to speak. He says, ''My uncle Ted fought in the War in Iraq. His plane was shot down over enemy territory. He jumped out before it crashed, with only a parachute, a bottle of bourbon, a machine gun, and a machete. As he floated down he drank the bottle of bourbon. Unfortunately, he landed right in the middle of 100 Iraqi soldiers. He shot 70 with his machine gun, but ran out of bullets so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more. The blade broke on his machete, so he killed the last 10 with his bare hands.''

The teacher looks in shock at Billy and asks if there is possibly any moral to his story.

Billy replies,

When a ballistic missile submarine is at launching depth, it is the third most powerful nation on this planet.

This is why geography doesn't matter. We can strike any country in the world with one of these.

The fact about a nuclear submarine...they never need to refuel ,and they can stay submerged until the food runs out (not water...they make their own)...or until the next to last crew member eats the last person on board...and then starves to death.

This is one bad ass ride

We've got 'em...the other side has 'em...and if either of us uses 'em...we're all fucked...maybe.

I find it interesting that the most complex and sophisticated technology ever developed by man...is developed to kill man. Aircraft, boats, ships, missiles, bullets, space lasers, and probably chemical and biological stuff...whatever...they are all designed to kill.

Deterrence won't work in this day and age...not against our current enemy, which happens to be Radical Islam, and which happens to know no borders. Islam ='s Brainwashing...If these people want to live in the 7th century, I say we help 'em get there quick...we can do it.

I say we win at all cost...whatever it takes. Sure, adjustments and sacrifices will have to be made, by everyone, but they won't be anywhere near the problems our young people will face in the future if we do nothing.

I agree with Al Gore when he says Mankind is facing the biggest problem ever, but, it is not global warming.

It is Radical Islam.

I say we do 'em all, and if we had a misfire that happened to hit Kalifornia...that wouldn't bother me at all.

Bwahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!

I love an adrenalin rush. I've done many things in my life that have given me one. Bungee jumping...Sailing in really really strong winds and (cold) raining so hard you couldn't see the bow from the stern (in both day and night)...running from the cops in a 911 Porsche, or a Lotus Turbo...I've been shot at...I've had someone try try to stab me...I've even had some crazy fucker take his bow and try to shoot me with a fucking arrow. Don't forget about the crazy fucking women I have known. They're as dangerous as anything. I have, seriously, had to run for my life. I kid you not.

By the grace of the Maker, I'm still here.

One thing I have always wanted to do is land a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier, at night, in bad weather.

This guy missed the ball

I've been really busy, but I have a question that has been bothering me for some time.

How did the Aboriginal people of Australia get there? Where did they come from? Are they good swimmers?

Some people believe this occurred 65,000 years ago, some don't. I don't care if it was a million years ago...how did they arrive, and how did they evolve?

No boats or airplanes back then.

If you could help me out with this, it would be greatly appreciated.

This looks like something I saw when I was dating Alice back in the late 60's early 70's. As a matter of fact, I think Dean is tie dyed.

Hit refresh often.

The Mariners' 1-2-3 rule states that in hurricane forecasting, the approximate margin of error at 100, 200, and 300 miles over 24, 48, and 72 hours, which results in a "danger area" in which a hurricane might strike. If you believe this...you don't want to be anywhere near the Gulf of Mexico for the next several days.

Anyway, this will be some bad weather.

I've been sailing in steady 55 MPH with 75 MPH, or more, gusts...it wasn't fun, but it was exciting. Not something I would recommend...I always tell the truth, and I'm telling you I was actually frightened. Thought my ass might die. Swear to the Maker.

When I tell this story, I always refer to it as my own private hurricane, but in reality, it was nothing compared to the real deal. I'm not trying to be cheesy, but it was a life experience for me. I truly thought I might die. When we finally docked the boat, I kissed her hull. She was named Voodoo Too. We were lucky.

You do not fuck with Mother Nature. Trust me on this one.

I have many friends. Some tell me I'm full of shit...some I think are full of shit...but we're still friends. That's half the battle. I believe I'm always right, but in the larger scheme of things...maybe I'm not. Who knows? I love a good debate. At least I realize that. I actually like people who disagree with me, but I detest people who say they do when they don't or say they don't when they do...if you know what I mean. People interpret things in different ways. What might piss me off might not piss off someone else. Fine. Friendship is volatile, but above everything else...friendship must be true.

I'm just saying...friendship is earned, and there is honor in that. Friendship is mutual and reciprocal.

So, you might be thinking that I have some problems with my friends...quite the contrary...I was just thinking about how fortunate I am to have as many friends as I do...because if one has no friends, they really have nothing.

Now, on a serious note...I overdosed on Gooey Cake. Christina Sweetie Baby Honey Pie...next time you send me a package...send ammunition. It will be quicker.

Bwahahahahahahahah!!!!

Tip of the hat to my good friend Doc.

Read the last paragraph even if you skip the rest... this bitch is a nut case!

You aren't going to believe this.

Some people know I have a dog named Stretch. Most people don't know his middle name is Cornbread. Yes, in fact it is. He is registered as Stretch Cornbread. I did that when she wasn't looking. My woman told some friends I wanted to name my new puppy Cornbread...they asked her why, and she said, because he (me) likes cornbread. One of her friends said, "I like chicken, but I wouldn't name my dog after one".

Bwahahahahahah!!!!

To the point:

Stretch learns like a Velociraptor in a bad fiction movie. He is becoming much more proficient in his hunting skills. Today, he brought the granddaddy home...dead. I saw the last ten seconds of it.

I usually deal with my squirrel problem with a .177 hollow point, but that is no fun for Stretch. He loves the thrill of the chase. Boy dogs are like that.

He has learned how to work out the distance between the squirrel and the closest tree. The biggest and oldest squirrel in the neighborhood made a fatal mistake today. He is no more, and my dogie is strutting around like he owns the world.

It was a good kill.

...to my previous post.

Round one goes to me.

Round two begins:

I'm going to have to fight dirty now...no negotiations...him or me...I will cut this motherfucker in fucking half. He is done.

He made a mistake...he underestimated me...it will be his demise.

Life...shit happens...he has no idea how to play the game he started...there are no rules in my frame of mind. Some people are just plain fucking stupid and way out of their league before they realize it.

This motherfucker will not win...period...plain and simple.

I'm really fucking sorry about my fucking language.

I learned it from my buddy Yabu.

Bwahahahahahahahah!!!!

Tomorrow, I will be forced to go head to head with someone I have no respect for. I will win, but it will be bittersweet. The plot will once again thicken, and I will be forced to play the second half of the game..again.

I hate shit like this, but I'm down with me. If I believe in something...the best bet is on me...causing I've thought it through.

Battle Stations.

As my good friend says...she knows who she is..."it is what it is".

Dayum!!!

*** I will find my own way out ***

I have always flown an American Flag from before Memorial Day to after Labor Day...also on Veterans Day, etc. I raised my flag, as I always have every year, a week before Memorial Day. 2001 was no different...it is still flying...it will never come down. After 9/11, everyone was flying the flag...not now...what happened? Why is that? Was it trendy?

I heard some people saying today, that if Hillary Clinton is elected president, they'll leave the country. Fuck that, if the Hildebeast is elected, we'll probably all have to evacuate...we'll be under attack with some bad stuff. I swear to the Maker, I will personally, if possible, make Alec Baldwin and Michael Moore, and all of their coward ass pussy friends, stay and inhale the germs and radiation. They should experience first hand what they're fighting for, ya think?

Many many years ago I obtained a Buck Titanium folding knife. 5 inches closed, 9 inches open. Sweet. It has been missing for a long time...I found it today...sweet.

I have / had a lot of computers. I'm cleaning my office, and after I removed multiple hard drives from seven or so machines...I worked over the insides with a crowbar, and I beat the ever loving shit out of what was left with a sledge hammer. They will never run again, trust me. On the advice of my friend Zonker, I kept a laptop. I'm gonna stake that fucker like I staked this one., and then do some horseshoes. The Zonkman is as crazy as I am.

I called the Junk Yard Dogs to come and haul off the mess I made today...with some other stuff. Anyway, I like their pricing scheme...based on refrigerators.

I always have a bunch of fireworks laying around. While making my mess today, I found a bunch of mortar shells, but I couldn't find the launching tube, so I fired 'em up and tossed like a grenade.

Big mistake...I set the fucking front yard on fire...I had to scream for my woman to bring on the hose. No shit, I set the front yard on fire...looked like something you'd see on the news. She had to put water on the yard, and the roof. I can tell you for certain, I have not heard the last of that.

Anyway, not much going on around here...just another day in the Brier Patch.

This is a serious Blog.

Bwahahahahahahah!!!

I'm sure I did might have done this before, but not under these circumstances.

That thing has some motor, ya think?

Actually, I have a friend who has his name painted on the side of an FA-18. He never could get me a ride though...

One morning, after a really really long night, I went to see him off. There is no way he didn't feel like shit. He fired that puppy up,,,floored it, and went vertical 10 feet off the runway.

It was amazing...and loud.

Anyway, he's always been a Showoff.