Quote of the Day

"When it comes to centralized national power, their fake money trumps your vote every time."

Tom Baugh

In context


Some pictures I took at Gettysburg this weekend

They found remains here as recently as 1997

Arkansas' monument shows its troops trampling someone.  Now who do you reckon that is?

In these woods the 20th Maine defended Little Round Top against as many as five assaults by the 15th Alabama in the deepening twilight of July 2nd, 1863.  The Alabama troops had been marching half the  night and all day to get there; 26 miles in all.  With no time allowed to even fill their canteens with water they were thrown into the fight. The Mainers had marched about 15 miles in the hours leading up the battle as well.

It's on this precise rock that Colonel William Oates, Alabama's Commander, says his own brother was killed during the assault.  Colonel Joshua Chamberlain who commanded the 20th Maine says no, the Alabaman's never reached that far.  The monument commission sided with Chamberlain.  No monument was ever raised for the 15th Alabama on the spot of their struggle with the 20th Maine.

The Devils Den as seen from the top of Little Roundtop.  That's 500 yards away!  On the afternoon of the July 2nd, Confederate snipers likely hidden among the rocks there managed to shoot Brigader General Stephen Weed in the chest as he stood on Little Roundtop.  Almost to prove the first shot was no fluke, only a few moments later Weed's artillery commander Lt. Charles Hazlett was leaning over his dying commander and was himself shot in the head.  He died instantly and General Weed expired of his wounds later that night.

Read the sign placed at the scene and note how its author says the Confederates were "only 500 yards" away.  I'd like to see that guy make a head shot with TODAYs rifles at 500 yards - under fire!

Here's the view from Devils Den looking up at Little Round Top.

Here's a view of The Wheatfield.  By the end of the second days's fighting this 16 acre parcel of ground was covered in dead and dying.  It changed hands between North and South about four times.

Across this 1000 yard stretch of open ground 15,000 Southerners advanced under heavy rifle and cannon fire.  They broke through the line and advanced only a short distance before being repulsed.  Less than half the men that when up that gentle incline ever came back down.  The Copse of Trees in the center of the photograph was their goal.  It became forever known as the Highwater Mark of the Confederacy.

Here's the same field but seen from the yankee perspective.  This photo was taken the following morning and the weather had changed more to fit the somber nature of the place.

Deo Vindice

Misc meanderings while waiting on a flight

I spent the last couple of days in Washington DC on business. Words cannot express how uncomfortable it was for me to be here in the "belly of the beast"!  Suffice it to say that I am pleased to be boarding my flight out of here this morning. Oh God just get me back to the Deep South where I belong!

While I wait to board, I thought to share a few of my experiences here.

Sat next to a thoroughly obnoxious NY lawyer at dinner on Monday night. At some point during the evening he felt it necessary to share his opinion of Southerners.  Among the comments he made were:

"I think they must all wear coonskin caps"
"Slow talking ... Slow thinking"
"What a bunch of Hillbillies!"

Had it not been a guaranteed damper on my career, I would have punched the green-toothed bastard right on the mouth.

Part of my time up here included a tour of the Gettysburg battlefield.  I stood at the so-called Highwater Mark where there is a memorial on the spot where General Armistead fell mortally wounded. This man died, along with thousands of other Confederates, to free himself from the domination of Imperial Washington. And some representative of Boobus Americanus had placed there a … wait for it … US flag! I removed that foul thing with extreme prejudice.

So my final thought for this morning: DC has gone the way of Miami. White, English speaking Americans are in extremely short supply here. This is an utterly foreign city! It is a picture of the future. The same Gooberment that believes it can serialize and track every individual round of ammunition manufactured, simultaneously insists that it's impossible to control immigration!

The years ahead are going to be very bleak indeed.


Too Stupid to Breathe

Why is America becoming a tyranical police state?  Because our dumb-asses WANT it that way!

Nineteen surveys which prove that much of America can't pour piss out of a boot!

Our goose is SO cooked.


Can someone explain this to me?

So I'm doing a little family tree work right?  And I find an ancestor who died at Camp Morton, a  Union Prison Camp in Indianapolis, Indiana.  During the War of Yankee Aggression there were over 1,700 Confederate POWs that died at Camp Morton.  These men are buried at Crown Hill Cemetery.

A Wikipedia article tells us that this is "a number considerably lower than most Union Camps".  Yet, between 1863 and June 1865, the camp's population saw an average of 50 deaths a month from disease, hunger, and exposure.  Clearly Camp Morton was a horror.

Private James H. Eidson died there shortly after Christmas in 1864.  He left behind a wife and as many as eight children who never learned of their father's specific fate.  All they knew for sure was that he was sick when captured at Kennesaw Mountain.  Beyond that he was simply never heard from again - as testified in the widow's pension application of 1891.

So you can imagine dear reader how pleased I was to find this man's final resting place.

What a nice place to wait for Judgment Day eh?  But wait…

Look a little closer.  What's that?

An American Flag?  At the grave of 1700 Confederates?

There's another one!

Really? Is this appropriate?  In what universe does this make sense?

I realize that everything Southern is now being castigated and denigrated, and the Confederate Flag is routinely attacked and vilified. Crapping on the South is the "in thing" these days.  But placing the flag that these men FOUGHT AGAINST on their graves!  Really?

Somehow if it were possible to talk to this particular ancestor of mine, I'll bet you anything that he'd take a dim view of his resting place being decorated with the US flag.

I have another ancestor who survived the Yankee invasion, but lost an eye at the Battle of Atlanta.  But that still didn't remove him from the fight.  However his leg was badly crushed a couple months before the surrender while riding a troop-train that derailed in eastern Alabama.  Something tells me he wouldn't appreciate his grave being festooned with a US flag.

Lastly I have an ancestor killed at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain.  That man left behind a wife and nine children.  That woman and her kids lived in a pine bark hut the winter of 1865.  You put a Yankee flag on his grave and his corpse might just jump up and punch you right in the mouth!

These men fought for their country - Georgia.  Their country was raped, pillaged and burned by the likes of this war criminal, and their descendants have all been programmed to love the Tyrant.  I suppose the final insult of having a US flag waving over their grave was to be expected.

Here's my last word on the subject.


Quote of the Day

I'm sure that by now you've heard the controversy over the rodeo clown appearing in an Obama mask at the Missouri state fair.  How dare anyone actually lampoon a sitting president!  Imagine that!  And worst of all, how dare anyone make fun of our historic first "black" president!  I hear the Fair announcer and the rodeo clown have been banned forever from the Missouri State Fair, and the hand wringing over the evils of racism will go on for days and days.  [gag, puke]

Keep it firmly in mind that there is only ONE thing you need to consider about OWEBongo.  Forget his policies, his ideology, his piss-poor record, his lack of accomplishments, his penchant for stumbling from scandal to scandal, his total incompetence.  Just remember his SKIN COLOR.  That's it.  That's the ONLY thing that matters!

Anyhow… I could rant on all day about this manchurian candidate who rules over us like Napoleon.  Here's a quote I stumbled over that really resonated with me to the point where I almost resonated my coffee all over the screen!

"Comparing Obama with a rodeo clown is a ridiculous assertion. A rodeo clown would have done his best to save those 4 cowboys in Benghazi."

It was already happening - within the first 50 years of the Republic

“I see, as you do, and with the deepest affliction, the rapid strides with which the federal branch of our government is advancing towards the usurpation of all the rights reserved to the States, and the consolidation in itself of all powers, foreign and domestic; and that, too, by constructions which, if legitimate, leave no limits to their power. Take together the decisions of the federal court, the doctrines of the President, and the misconstructions of the constitutional compact acted on by the legislature of the federal branch, and it is but too evident, that the three ruling branches of that department are in combination to strip their colleagues, the State authorities, of the powers reserved by them, and to exercise themselves all functions foreign and domestic.”

Thomas Jefferson - in a letter dated December 1825


All in the name of keeping you safe

As you watch this video, keep in mind that the cops are looking for ONE nineteen year-old who, while certainly dangerous, was no Rambo.

Notice there's no service of warrant.

Notice all the yelling and shouting orders at the residents of the home.

"Get your hands UP!"  "Let's GO!"  "Hurry UP!"

See them as they're frisked on further down the street.

Land of the brave and home of the free, indeed.

This entire mess was a dry run for coming martial law.  If you can't accept that truth, then you're simply a fool.  The empire is tightening its grip and your so-called "Rights" don't mean squat in the new Socialist AmeriKa.

After watching this - I'll take my chances with the terrorists thank you!

And the residents of Boston, the lickspittle little sheeple of Boston, thank the agents of the empire that crushes their very liberty beneath the boot.

Boston, 1775: "Come and take them!"

Boston, 2013: "They can give me a cavity search right now and I'd be perfectly happy."


Denninger absolutely gets it right here in this piece!

Go here and read this.  Do it if you read nothing else this month.

When I consider that Boston, the cradle of the American Revolution, lately cowered in fear before the ham-handed acts of terrorists who should have been named Abbot and Costello.

When I consider that on the anniversary of the Shot Heard Round The World, the children of the men who fired that shot now crouch and cravenly lick the hand of GOOBERment agents who did thousands of times more damage to Boston than the Chechen bozos did. 

When I consider the in-your-face evidence that the entire US Bill of Rights is now nothing more than propaganda to be taught to school children.

And as Mr. Denninger rightly points out, we are sending the message to the whole world that we are a nation of whimpering children who long for their Nanny.

 … I am deeply saddened. America is dead and gone, and my children and grandchildren have inherited, NOT freedom, but slavery. We The Pansies have ceded our most precious birthright … LIBERTY… for tawdry trinkets of illusory safety! 

Coming to your neighborhood soon…

  Don't forget to say thank you to Nanny


The Iron Lady kicked Socialist ass

This is what a leader looks and sounds like.  I say that because it's been so long that America has been without leadership that we hardly know what real leadership looks like!



Why there will always be tyrants

I see in the news that Venezuelan dictator Hugo Chavez has left the earth for his appointment with Satan.  Only the willfully ignorant refuse to accept that the man was a tyrant.

I've read some of the comments being published by the propaganda ... err... the press, and one in particular caught my eye:

"He was our father..." said Carlos Perez, a municipal worker (recipient of a government check).

So long as there exists the view that government can serve the role of a father, there will be people who are content to be treated as children.   So long as there are people who crave their neighbor's substance, there will be the politician willing to take from Peter to give to Paul - at gunpoint if need be.


This is hilarious

Take careful notice how OBiden says that a shotgun is easier to shoot and easier to aim than an AR-15.

On another note entirely, WHAT is that androgynous thing that's interviewing him?  I truly cannot tell if that is a sissy man, or  woman dressed to look like a man.


Fred says it perfectly: No one is EVER going to be left alone again!

Here's an excerpt, but be sure to read the whole damn thing - and mourn for what we've lost.

"A different America, a different culture. We really were free. You could come out of the house on a summer morning and let the dogs run loose in the fields, nobody ever having heard of a dog license. You could change the oil in your car or rewire your basement without the county meddling. You could shoot varmints eating your garden and no one cared. The government left you alone. This is not an unimportant part of the dispute over guns—wanting to be left alone. Nobody in America, ever again, is going to be left alone. Not ever."


This "man" gave up his guns, and provides yet another example of the metrosexual male this country produces today

I have a strong stomach, but this assclown's tale (if it's to be believed) made me want to retch.  To be honest, I couldn't finish reading it.

Why I gave up my guns

"I’m a New Yorker born-and-bred, and unlike the just under half of all Americans who keep guns in their homes, I didn’t grow up with firearms."



This video NEEDS to go viral!

I bet the politicians in that chamber were squirming in their seats as he spoke.


Hey conservatives - standby to be sold out (again) by the GOP

The party of the dead elephant is NOT going to defend your 2A right to keep and bear arms.  I predict here and now that private transfers of gun ownership, the proverbial "gun show loop hole", is about to become regulated by Leviathan.

WASHINGTON -- Ask a Senate Republican if he or she supports an assault weapons ban and you'll likely get a "no." But ask about tighter background checks -- one of a few items in President Barack Obama's gun violence package with a shot at passing Congress -- and you'll likely get a vague response about needing more information, if you get a response at all.
"Uh, I don't know what you mean," said Sen. James Inhofe (R-Okla.), who then ended the conversation by turning around and walking into a room where senators were having lunch, closing the door behind him.
"I need to have more details. I, you know, I just need -- you need to ask me after I've talked to our judiciary staff in our office," said Sen. Bob Corker (R-Tenn.), also heading to the Senate lunch. "I hate to respond just in the hallway, so I won't."
"I've got -- my wife's here. I'm sorry. I've gotta -- thanks," said Sen. John Barrasso (R-Wyo.).


Bambi gets revenge - the deer herd of Henry County strikes back

Well I spent the last weekend of Alabama deer season in a tree stand in Henry County Alabama.  In fact I spent the entire day Saturday sitting in a climber 25 feet up a pine tree overlooking a creek bottom.  I got settled in before daybreak and I didn’t climb down until dark..  I saw a total of five deer, including a small six point chasing a doe.  Just nothing I wanted to hang on my wall – and my freezer is already full.

I started back home Sunday morning and had traveled no more than half a mile before a MONSTER buck ran right out in front of my truck.  If I hadn’t slammed on brakes I’d have hit him!  Whew.  Close call number 1.

Twenty minutes later I spied lots of eyes off the side of the road and I did the prudent thing and slowed down.  Traveling at about 40 mph I passed the largest gathering of deer I’ve ever seen in the wild.  There was at least 25 does standing a tight little cluster immediately beside the road.  I expected them to scatter in all directions – including right in front of me – for some reason not a one of the moved as I passed by, except to swivel theirs heads following my passing.  I even had time to lower my truck window and get an up close look.  Whew.  Close call number 2.

Three’s the charm they say.  About a minute after passing the doe convention on the left side of the road, I heard and felt a loud thud on the passenger side of my truck.  I knew instantly what had to be the cause.  Glancing down into my driver’s side mirror I could see a deer flying thru the air tumbling end over end and crashing down into the ditch along the opposite side of the road.  I pulled over and surveyed the damage.

Dents in the rear passenger door, a shattered topper window, a smashed fender on my 4 wheeler, and the tailgate ramp torn loose from it’s locking pins requiring that I actually tie the trailer tailgate in place in order to drive. 

I walked back the short distance to see about the deer – and he (or she) was gone!  Doubtless the animal dragged itself off to die later.

What a frustrating way to close out the best hunting season I’ve had in a quite awhile!    Oh well.  I’m just glad the animal didn’t come thru my windshield and end up in my lap.  


He was nobody to the rest of the world, but to me he was everything

Reposted on the occasion of my father's 97th birthday.  Happy Birthday Daddy!

Sept 1939


Deer hunting in Alabama

Standing beside my truck in the predawn darkness it had seemed like there was little or no wind.  Now sitting in a ground blind atop a hilly clear cut I discovered that there was indeed some wind, and it was utterly fickle about which way it was going to blow.  The worst time to hunt from a ground blind is when the winds are variable.  Deer have the most incredible sense of smell you can imagine, and if even a whiff of your scent drifts their way, you can forget any hope of them coming in your direction.  I resolved to change my location, even though the sun was already up.

Coming down off the hill very slowly, I watched as a doe ran along just inside the treeline in front of me.  Moments later off to my left I saw two does being chased by what appeared to be a coyote.  Well they look to be moving pretty good this morning I thought.  Let’s hurry up and get into a tree stand and get up high so as to mask my scent a little better.  I stepped up the pace. 

Thirty minutes later I was safely ensconced about twenty-five feet up a pine tree on a completely different part of the property.  Looking downhill over a partial clear cut I could see a creek bottom out about 180 yards in front of me.  Gaps in the foliage gave me a clear view into the bottom in only a couple of spots.  Similar gaps on my right and left gave me a view into the mixed pine and hardwood forest that flanked the clear cut I was overlooking. 

Around 10:30 a.m. my hunting buddy texted me and asked if I was ready to come down and head for the house.  “No… I think I’m going to stay up here until sunset” I replied.  Why not? I had something to nibble on in my pack and I had water and I was quite comfortable in my tree climber.  Best to make the most of an Alabama deer hunt I thought.

About an hour later I was looking into the woods off to my right when I see a doe slowly making her way downhill and towards the bottom out in front of me.  I watched her through my binoculars to see if she was alone – and she appeared to be.  Even though this was supposed to be the rut she looked to be in no particular hurry, and she also looked to be by herself.  Passing out of my view for the moment as she headed down the hillside, I put down my binoculars and shouldered my rifle.  Although I had no intention of shooting a doe, I still think it’s fun to put the crosshairs on them as a way of “counting coup”.  It allows me to fantasize around the notion of “I could have had you if I wanted!”

Shifting in my seat a bit to give me a more natural point of aim, I placed the crosshairs on the spot where I expected the deer to cross into the creek bottom.  And sure enough, in a couple of minutes my doe stepped out precisely where I expected.  Placing the crosshairs on her left shoulder I could see her very plainly as she cranked her head around and scrutinized her own back trail.  Hmmm… is she being followed?  Careful to make no sudden moves – even though the doe was about 180 yards way – I eased my rifle down and took up the binoculars again and began glassing the area where I had first spotted the traveling doe.  In just about a minute there appeared a big-bodied buck following the exact path previously taken by the doe. 

Hot damn! 

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a buck in my crosshairs.  A succession of poor choices for hunting properties, and not nearly enough time spent scouting or hunting has left me “buckless” for more years that I care to reveal.  So perhaps you will understand, if even a little, the excitement of having an opportunity to drop a buck that was now unfolding before me.

There is an old deer hunting rule that says once you make the decision to shoot your buck, don’t look at the antlers anymore.  If you do, you risk getting excited and spoiling your shot.  I had seen a shiny main beam on the rack, and I had seen that he was a good size, so I made my shoot decision and carefully looked no more at the rack.  Knowing precisely where my animal would cross in the gap down below, I put down my binoculars and picked up my rifle.  I spent the moments while the buck was out of my view getting situated and ready for the shot.  The doe had passed out of sight somewhere along the bottom so I placed my crosshairs on the same spot where she had appeared just a couple of minutes before.  I had every expectation my trailing buck would show in the same spot.  He did.

Unlike the doe who casually stepped from cover, the buck did something unexpected.  He bounded across the gap and gave me no opportunity to take a point of aim and thus I had no shot.  In far less time than it takes to tell about it, my buck disappeared into cover in the direction the doe had gone.  Curses!  Damn the luck! Missed opportunities seemed to be my hunting trademark.  But nonetheless I maintained my sight picture with the rifle and continued to watch the small gap thru which my two deer had passed.

Only a moment went by and I heard a deer “blow” somewhere down in the foliage along the creek.  This is usually behavior you expect when they’ve been startled or frightened by a hunter, and not something I’ve ever witnessed them do in reaction to another deer.  With the wind blowing steadily from the direction of the bottom up toward me, I knew there was no way they had gotten my scent, so I kept my rifle pointed at the spot where I had last seen the buck.  I saw the doe charge across the opening and apparently reverse her course of a few minutes before and head back up the hill.  I remained steady on the gap.  The buck stepped out and moved to follow the doe.  This time he stopped as if pondering what he wanted to do.  I placed the crosshairs on his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.  At precisely the moment the trigger broke he stepped forward a bit and my point of aim was shifted to his gut rather than his shoulder.  But the .270 erupted at 2850 fps and I clearly saw the animal stagger as the round impacted about six inches left of where I would have preferred. 

Away into the bottom the buck ran with a discernably odd gait.  I knew he was hit, I just hoped very much that he wouldn’t be able to run very far.  I waited at least ten minutes there in the stand before trying to climb down.  As excited as I was it seemed prudent for safety’s sake that I regain my composure somewhat before trying to climb down from the tall pine tree. 

Thirty minutes later, now armed with a four-wheeler and utility wagon, I was at the bottom of the hill, and it took me no more than five minutes to find my buck.  He had run maybe 40 yards from where I shot him.  The bullet had hit him exactly where I had expected it would, and the view back to the tree from where I fired made me really wish I had a rangefinder with me to confirm the distance.  I believe it to have been about 180 yards, and obviously I was pleased with the result.

The rack on the ole boy was a bit disappointing.  But later at the processor we looked at the teeth and the opinion of those folks was that the animal was a three year-old deer.  So what I had was a somewhat anemic rack that would probably never have gotten any better regardless of how long the deer would have lived. In essence this was a cull buck; one whose genetics you don’t want perpetuated in the herd.  Cull buck or no, I still had a wonderful time.  The morning had started off with crappy winds, but here before me I had a good kill and the sweet memory of a good overall hunt. 

Alabama has one more weekend of deer season, and the late rut in Henry County guarantees it will be exciting.  You can bet your ass that GunRights4US will be there!