Thursday, March 23, 2017

FYI - Microsoft

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Even though Micro$oft admitted that it was key-logging and video-logging and voice-logging everything in Windows 10 users did a couple of years ago when they were introducing it to the world and stressed it was “intended for testing, not day-to-day use,” apparently they did NOT stop.
Microsoft's FAQ states clearly:  “When you interact with your Windows device by speaking, writing (handwriting), or typing, Microsoft collects speech, inking, and typing information—including information about your Calendar and People (also known as contacts)…”


Anyway, all the controversy aside, and the "promises" and "statements" Microsoft has made re Win 10, Windows "has been quietly logging every single keystroke users make on their keyboards from the beginning. Even better, that data is being constantly sent to Microsoft's servers on a regular basis" which may be one of the reasons some computers are running so slow.
While their FAQ site tells how to turn it off ... if you believe Micro$oft will really allow that ... I strongly suspect they will continue to collect and send the info, in light of the following:
The Federal Communications Commission has recently halted implementation of a privacy rule that requires ISPs to protect the security of its customers' personal information.  "Broadband industry lobby groups are celebrating a Federal Communications Commission decision to prevent enforcement of a rule intended to protect customers' private data from security breaches."  Moreover, anti-regulation officials are making sure your ISP never has to tell you!
This would apply to Micro$oft, too, I am sure ... so, just remember as I have always emphasized in m y classes, Big Brother and his Minion can see anything and everything you are doing on the Internet if they choose to.
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Political Thoughts To Keep In Mind (a link)

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http://dailytimewaster.blogspot.com/2017/03/this-is-question-we-all-need-to-keep.html
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Those Addicting Entitlement Programs (a link)

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http://bayourenaissanceman.blogspot.com/2017/03/addicted-to-entitlement-programs.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BayouRenaissanceMan+%28Bayou+Renaissance+Man%29
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Senate Wants To Sell Your Web History (a link)

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http://vesselnews.io/senate-votes-let-internet-providers-sell-web-history-without-consent/
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White Guy Tells College Kids He "Identifies" as Tall Chinese Woman - WATCH! (a link)

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http://www.angrypatriotmovement.com/white-guy-tells-students/
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McCain A "Leaker?" (a link)

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http://truthfeed.com/breaking-bombshell-report-fingers-mccain-as-anti-trump-media-leak/59388/
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Laura Ingraham on Paul Ryan (a link)

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http://www.usanewspolitics.com/2017/03/17/alaura-ingraham-shines-spotlight-on-backstabbing-traitor-paul-ryan-for-setting-healthcare-bill-trap-for-trump/
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Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Virginia Governor Thinks Voter Fraud Is OKAY (a link)

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http://dennismichaellynch.com/virginia-governor-vetoes-key-bill-identify-voter-registration-fraud/
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List Of REPUBLICAN Enemies Of The Working Man (a link)

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http://redrocktribune.com/republican-trying-sabotage-trump/
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Ryan Sabotaging Trump (a link)

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http://conservativebrief.com/texas-rep-drops-bombshell-about-paul-ryan-hes-sabotaging-trump/
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What's Up With FOX And Napolitano? (a link)

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https://conservativedailypost.com/breaking-fox-news-fires-judge-napolitano-after-he-proved-obama-treason-live-on-the-air/
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After Dark Porch Sit

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I tinkered outside for about 45 minutes before dark this evening. I got three blocks seated as supports for my mill frame, but didn’t get the fourth corner done. Oh well, something to do another day, I guess. By that time, I knew the Mighty Dachshund would need to drain, so I went inside and leashed her up and brought her out, along with my flashlight. I let her pee in our graveled driveway, but took her to the north edge of the lawn to dump, and it was too dark to step there without a flashlight. She didn’t need to do anything, though, and just stood there and sniffed the slight breeze.

Returning to the porch, I took my seat in the swing and made her lie on the welcome mat, since it would be warmer than the concrete. At this point, I can still see through the woods and watch headlights coming on the highway, the lights from the neighbor’s house about a quarter mile away, and even the lights from the airport, about five miles away on another hilltop. In another two or three weeks, I suspect that ability will be gone for several months, as the trees leaf out and block my view. As it is, I can see headlights drop into the saddleback out the ridge and disappear for a few seconds before reappearing on this side and continuing past our home. Even the pooch notices when one car doesn’t reappear, meaning that it turned into the housing development which has an access road entering the country road in the saddleback (“low-gap” in country parlance).

Gradually, I see an airplane’s lights coming from the direction of the airport. The pooch sees them, too, and watches them with interest. Eventually, it gets in hearing distance and it becomes obvious to me that it’s a small single engine plane. The pooch continues to watch as it passes fairly near the house and then onward in a southwest direction.

A couple farms over, two coyotes can be heard, the first I’ve heard here for two years. I hope the farmer gets them before they raise more. The Mighty Dachshund would get nervous if the sound was closer, but she seems to feel safe at the obvious distance. They soon grow silent, but only a few minutes later, a bass-voiced hound on the farm on the other side of us starts complaining about trespassers and my little dog seems concerned.

As always, I can hear the traffic on the four-lane a mile or two west of here. Rain is supposed to be on the way, though, so it’s a little louder than normal. It’s in the 50’s this evening; I don’t know why the skeeters aren’t bothering us, but I’m thankful. As the swing starts to remind my backside that it’s made of unpadded wood, I decide that we porch-sitters have been here long enough. The lamp inside lights up the nine small panes of stained glass, salvaged from an old home being demolished, that I incorporated into my front door when I built it 37 years ago. As the door opens, the soft yellow light floods out into the darkness, making the inside seem warm and welcoming. The pooch looks up at me as I unleash her, seemingly content with my decision to come inside. There’s always another day, but if not, so be it; this has been a good one. © 2017
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Monday, March 20, 2017

Is China In A Debt Trap? (a link)

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http://bayourenaissanceman.blogspot.com/2017/03/chinas-economy-caught-in-debt-trap.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BayouRenaissanceMan+%28Bayou+Renaissance+Man%29
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What Trump Needs To Do (a link)

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http://dailytimewaster.blogspot.com/2017/03/after-all-confirmation-hullabaloo-dies.html
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WHAT Secret Service? (a link)

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http://thetruthdivision.com/2017/03/new-detail-white-house-fence-jumper-making-people-questioning-secret-service/
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Paper Brain, First Dandelions, A Porch Sit And A Gripe (w/pic)

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Click image to enlarge.

Back when I was self-employed, I used a little notebook to make lists of thinks that I needed to accomplish the next day. After I’d written down everything that I could think of, I’d go back through and prioritize them. Additions and reprioritizing would sometimes occur as time went on. As I went through that day, I’d mark off each task as it was accomplished. Now that I’m a senile old geezer, I’ve learned that its time to relearn that habit, except that many days, I do nothing, so one list might last for a week. I use the same miniature notebook to record things that I might wish to keep a record of, also. As you can see from the beginning date on mine, one of the little volumes lasts a while; it’s still only 2/3 full.

Beside it is another notebook in which I mark my medications as I take them. The right to left downward stroke stands for my morning pills. The left to right downward stroke stands for my afternoon water pill. The horizontal line stands for my vitamins and mineral supplements, when I remember to take them. The vertical line stands for my night-time pills. As you can see, I don’t always remember every pill. I used to joke about old folks and their pills; now I make asterisks in a book to try to remember mine.

At Chinamart the other day, it was obvious that my first picking of wild greens may occur soon, since a nearby bank is getting rather fuzzy with green growth. Today, as I drove by the former Bob Evan’s Restaurant near Route 50, I saw a huge bank covered with dandelion blooms. The bees should be happy, if there ARE any.

Early this evening, after locating a couple 4” blocks to support the back corners of my mill frame and cutting off a piece of pipe to use in repairing my old office chair, I parked myself in the porch swing for a while. I won’t give you my usual description of the scene, but suffice it to say that it was a pleasant few minutes.

We watched MASH this evening, as usual. We don’t watch it because it’s so great, but because everything else on at that time is worse. They have the worst jerk in the camp reading his Bible at times so in today’s first episode, Hawk-Eye made the comment that he wouldn’t want a room without a Bible. In a recent show, they had a nurse showing prejudice towards Koreans by referring to them as “gooks.” I found it very telling that they made the woman from Alabama, instead of Alan Alda’s home state of Maine. Yankees are NEVER prejudiced, you realize. Oh well, he may choose to live in Maine, but everyone with any sense realizes that he’s STILL a Hollywood suck_ss liberal a-hole. © 2017
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Shifting Tide? Man With Trump Hat Sues Bar That Wouldn't Serve Him (a link)

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http://nypost.com/2017/03/19/guy-wearing-trump-hat-sues-bar-for-refusing-to-serve-him/
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Sunday, March 19, 2017

M-44 Coyote Killer Sprays Boy And Kills His Dog (a link)

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http://fox59.com/2017/03/18/idaho-boy-sprayed-by-cyanide-planted-by-us-department-of-agriculture-dog-killed/

I'm not against coyote control, in fact, I used to be a trapper, but this needs to be made illegal.
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ARID Oregon Makes Couple Destroy Pond Because STATE Owns Rainwater (a link)

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http://www.organicandhealthy.org/2017/03/couple-forced-to-destroy-40yo-pond-on.html#.WM6-eWASeyk.facebook
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Lost Spanish Fort Found In Smokies (a link)

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http://www.warhistoryonline.com/instant-articles/lost-spanish-fort-found-great-smoky-mountains.html
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North Korea And Our Grid (a link)

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http://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/business/energy-green/sd-fi-emp-threat-20170309-story.html
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TRUMP - The Game Changer (a link)

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http://www.rural-revolution.com/2017/03/the-game-changer.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RuralRevolution+%28Rural+Revolution%29
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North Korea Threatens To "Nuke" America (a link)

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http://www.americasfreedomfighters.com/2017/03/19/north-korea-nuke-america/
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SOMETIMES, We Have To Blame Our Ancestors! (w/pic)

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Click image to enlarge.

I can't always blame the destruction of our local history on businessmen and crooked mayors within my memory. Too often, historic structures are torn down before they get a chance to become truly historic. So it is with the building on this postcard. My grandma sent it to her younger sister at some point, but there's no date on it. I'm thinking 1920 or earlier. I don't know when the grand old church was demolished, but I think it was soon after that time.

I believe it stood on Market Street in Parkersburg, though I'm not sure. You'll notice the "dirt" on the brick streets around the building; I venture to say that dirt is actually "powdered" horse manure, chewed up by the hooves of passing horses and buggy tires. If I remember, the building was vacated by the church when they moved a few blocks to a new and larger building. I believe this building was then sold and a bank, hotel or some other business built on the site. I find it frustrating that I can no longer find any information on the building online, where I originally read about it, but forgot to save the information. Even what I believe to be the modern incarnation of the church has no information about their former historic locations on their website. DISGUSTING!

For those who don't know, "M.E." stood for "Methodist Episcopal," the SOUTHERN branch of the Methodist Church during the Uncivil War. The northern branch was called "Methodist Protestant." Maybe that's why the current incarnation of the church wants no-one to know their history. They're politically correct idiots if that's the case.

If anyone local reads this who has information on the old building and it's congregation, please share it.

P.S. - The friend that I call "the guru" found this for me. Thanks to him and his source:

The first Methodist services occurred in Parkersburg area in 1799, but a church wasn't built until 1815, on Avery Street between Third and Fourth streets. Twenty years later the congregation built a new church at the corner of Fifth and Market. In 1844, when the question of slavery split the Methodists into Northern and Southern branches, Northerners moved out of the church at Fifth and Market and met in homes until they constructed a small, frame church on Fifth Street in 1846. They built another church in its place in 1862, but it burned down eleven years later. (Meanwhile, the Southern church eventually became St. Paul's at Eleventh and Market.) The next Northern church was built in 1874 on the corner of Fifth and Juliana and became known as "Old First Church" (left). It was damaged in a 1895 Little Kanawha River boat explosion near the Juliana Street Bridge. In 1911 the congregation moved up Juliana from Fifth to its current Gothic building on Tenth Street (below).

electricearl.com/parkersburg-

NPR And PBS Salaries - No Wonder Trump Wants To Wean Them! (a link)

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http://100percentfedup.com/pull-back-the-curtain-on-npr-and-pbs-salaries-thatll-convince-you-trumps-right-to-cut-cut-cut/
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Strategy For Christiansn In A Post-Christian World (a link)

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http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2017/03/13/rod-dreher-wake-up-call-for-christians-before-coming-dark-age.html
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ROFL - I LOVE It! (a link)

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https://hallsofkarma.wordpress.com/2017/03/16/president-donald-trump-announces-sale-of-california-to-mexico-the-art-of-the-deal/
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Saturday, March 18, 2017

Worth The Read!

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Found on Facebook.

After his father’s death, the Son decided to leave his mother at old age home and visited her on and off.

Once he received a call from old age home….Mom very serious ….. please come to visit.

Son went and saw mom very critical, on her dying bed.

He asked: Mom what can I do for you?

Mom replied… “Please install fans in the old age home, there are none…. Also put a fridge for betterment of food because many times I slept without food”.

Son was surprised and asked: mom, while you were here you never complained, now you have few hours left and you are telling me all this, why?

Mom replied…..”it’s OK dear, I’ve managed with the heat, hunger & pain, but when your children will send you here, I am afraid you will not be able to manage!
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Trivial Saturday Stuff

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The missus and I splurged for the first time in ages and ate lunch out today. The food was good, but I wasn’t impressed by the speck of lettuce on the outside of my tea glass, or the one on my knife. Since I knew I wouldn’t be using the knife and it was the OUTSIDE of the glass, I didn’t bother saying anything. The problem is twofold, first, the restaurants are forced to use the crappy detergent sold by the dish-washing machine company, or their warranty is voided and second, the kids in the kitchen overload the washer to where some of the silverware and dishes don’t get washed properly anyway. Don’t even THINK that the kids actually LOOK to see if things are clean.

Afterward, we went to Chinamart to get some of our groceries. We have to use a different brand of water these days, as they’ve quit carrying our brand, but I went online and learned that a different chain in Ohio may have it. My wife and I were both raised with well water and both have some stomach problems. If we try to use some brands, our stomachs soon start giving us trouble. Drinking tap water, with all its chlorine, fluoride and Lord knows what else, is akin to slow suicide for us. In case there’s any moron out there who insists that all water is the same, keep your mouth shut; just because you’re a moron doesn’t mean that you have to prove it.

We all know that most people are goofy these days. As we left Chinamart, I saw a young woman with her butt cheeks hanging far below her shorts which, in turn, barely showed below her winter coat.

Once at home, I tried using the internet again. My computer goes into sit and spin mode after a few minutes anymore, making the internet almost unusable for me. I just cleaned, defragged and dumped the cookies and such, so I know it’s none of those things causing the problem. The guru says he has some similar problems with a different provider and says that at least some of the problem is Google looking for hacks and other illegal activity. My computer does fine with internal tasks like using Word and sorting files, so I know it’s not my computer. Despite the fact that my provider just jacked up their prices again, I believe the problem is that usage of my local line is more than the provider’s equipment can handle. I’m thinking about going to Dish TV, but I’m sure I won’t save any money, as they make up the packages in such a way that you have to get the most expensive combo to get anything worth watching, while paying for about 150 channels that aren’t even of interest to me.

I’m playing musical chairs with my computer. I use an old oak chair until my backside hurts, then use a worn-out swivel chair until my spine and neck hurt, then reverse, reverse, reverse. I think I’ve finally decided how to fix my old chair without paying for welding, so I’d best get to it. Between poor service and bad chairs, I’m about to give up on the internet. SO, it’s Saturday evening and there ain’t a cotton pickin’ thing on TV that interests the both of us. Such is life. © 2017
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Old Postcard

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Click image to enlarge.

On June 27, 1941, my dad's youngest sister, then 21 and in Washington, D.C. looking for work, sent him this card. He was 16 at the time.
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More On The Obama/Travel Ban/Osama Bin Laden Link (a link)

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https://politicalcult.com/breaking-lawyer-stopped-trump-travel-ban-hawaii-tied-osama-bin-laden/
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Utter Hypocrisy In Bundy Ranch Trial (a link)

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http://thewashingtonstandard.com/utter-hypocrisy-government-bundy-ranch-trial/
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Friday, March 17, 2017

Obama Hid $77 BILLION In Climate Change Funds! (a link)

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http://theblacksphere.net/2017/03/obama-hid-over-77-billion-in-climate-change-funds/
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Saw Chain Dipper (w/pic)

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I was tempted to entitle this post “home-made chain hoist,” but that seemed a bit TOO ornery. Even with the current title, a few of you are probably reading this merely out of curiosity. I mentioned a few days ago that I was going to degrease my saw chains before filing them, and then re-oil them afterward. I needed some way to dip them without getting my fingers in the stuff, and a coat hanger seemed just SO gauche, so I came up with this little tool. It’s simply a screw hook threaded into a file handle. I made two of them, one for outside and one for inside, since I may have winter and summer work stations. I have less than $2 each in them, so my fastidiousness didn’t cost me too much. I took a break from my usual “tight wire act” lifestyle today, so I didn’t really have anything to thrill you with, so I posted this just to let you know that I’m still among the living. I’m hoping to have a real bombshell tomorrow; maybe I can find some irregularities on Trump’s cable bill! You’ll just have to wait and see; please remember to continue breathing as you wait.

Click image to enlarge.
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No, Trump Isn't Killing "Meals On Wheels!" (a link)

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http://www.dailywire.com/news/14515/fake-news-did-trump-just-kill-meals-wheels-not-ben-shapiro
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MILK Is Racist Because It's White! (a link)

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http://www.theblaze.com/news/2017/03/16/is-milk-racist-a-millennial-writer-thinks-so/

Does that make chocolate milk "African-American?"
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Warped Thinking Of Hawaii Judge (a link)

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http://www.dailywire.com/news/14485/3-most-idiotic-pronouncements-hawaii-judges-ben-shapiro
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These 32 Senators Want Foreigners To Have your Jobs (a link)

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http://conservativetribune.com/senators-foreign-workers-take-jobs/
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Sidelined by Silence (a link)

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Perpetual Proverbs: Sidelined by Silence
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Thursday, March 16, 2017

A Couple Memes

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Click images to enlarge.
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Hawaiian Judge Was Obama Classmate And Appointee (a link)

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http://www.hannity.com/articles/hanpr-election-493995-493995/judge-who-ruled-against-trump-travel-15653497/
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Chuck Norris Gives The Scoop On Hillary (a link)

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http://www.americanjournalreview.com/chuck-norris-reveals/
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Anti-Travel Ban Lawyer Has Ties To OSAMA BIN LADEN! (a link)

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http://freedomdaily.com/lawyer-travel-ban-osama-bin-laden/
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Obama Meets With Warren Buffet And Media Is Silent (a link)

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http://conspatriot.com/media-wont-report-secret-meeting-obama-yesterday-people-shocked/
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Ryan's Trump Trap? (a link)

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I don't trust that Soros employee any further than I can throw him one-handed!

http://conservative101.com/trap-trump-laura-ingraham-exposes-sneaky-paul-ryan-hiding-healthcare-bill/
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Well, Well, Look Who Hawaii Judge Met The Day "BEFORE!" (a link)

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http://redstatewatcher.com/article.asp?id=68118
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What Is an Anti-Semite? (a link)

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Medley of Worship: Opus 2017-084: How Terrible! What Is an Anti-Semite?
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Trump Would Have Done Better!

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A little boy wanted $100 badly and prayed for two weeks but nothing happened.
Then he decided to write God a letter requesting the $100. When the postal authorities received the letter addressed to God, USA, they decided to send it to President Obama.
The President was so impressed, touched, and amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy a $5.00 bill (and of course told his press secrteray all about it).
President Obama thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy (plus be nice for his re-elction campaign).
The little boy was delighted with the $5.00 and sat down to write a thank you note to God, which read:
"Dear God,
Thank you very much for sending the money, however, I noticed that for some reason you had to send it through Washington D.C. and, as usual, those crooked bastards deducted $95.00. "
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Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Steady By Jerks, Like A Toad A-Walkin’

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That used to be my elderly neighbor’s reply when I’d ask him how things were going. I always smiled at hearing the expression. Now I know what he means. It’s no fun when your health, the weather and your budget all conspire to keep you from accomplishing anything.

I can’t handle the cold like I did when I was young, and especially the wind. Nor can I handle the heat, like I used to do when I’d tell my wife not to tell me how hot it was until my workday was over, for fear I’d melt. The bursitis in my hips won’t let me climb or even walk that well, and my heart rate and breathing go up so easily that I have to take a breather after splitting every piece of firewood. Imagine how long it takes me to fill the wood rack from which I occasionally sell a face-cord of firewood!

And then there’s my budget – sometimes, I have to collect the small list of materials for a project over several weeks, or even months. One coming project will only take about $30 worth of parts, but it will probably take me a month to get everything together. Oh well, it’s teaching me better management skills!

Still, I take pleasure in moving forward, even if it is at a snail’s pace. In the last week or so, I’ve got my can lids ready for use, moved some concrete stepping stones in position near the porch, Put up a for-sale sign for my firewood, moved some dirt down by my truck-tire “garden,” painted creosote on the bottom of my mill frame (and moved and retarped it), and bought end caps and sealant for a yet unpurchased length of gutter, which will serve as a “dip tank” for wooden bats and bean-poles. Little things, all, but progress none-the-less.

Incidentally, for several years at the farm, we had a huge toad which we nicknamed “Hoiman” (Herman) that hung around the patio outside the kitchen door. Only ONE time, I was privileged to see him walk, instead of hop. Interestingly enough, his gait was as smooth flowing water, with nary a jerk! © 2017
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Killing Bears In Dens? Come ON Alaska! (a link)

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https://www.thedodo.com/us-house-alaska-bear-wolf-2268102226.html
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Suggestion For Trump (a link) And I Agree

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http://bayourenaissanceman.blogspot.com/2017/03/a-suggestion-for-president-trump.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BayouRenaissanceMan+%28Bayou+Renaissance+Man%29
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These Two SOROS EMPLOYEES Need To GO!

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Click image to enlarge.
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Tuesday, March 14, 2017

It's Embarrassing

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I'll treat anyone okay that treats me okay, but that doesn't mean that I support everything they believe or will give them my business, if I feel they have moral issues.That's why, many years ago, I was a little embarrassed when a sodomite on the Johnny Carson show said that San Francisco, California and Parkersburg, West Virginia were the two most tolerant cities in the nation for sodomites and lesbians. Since Parkersburg is the county seat of the county in which I reside, I was more than a little concerned.

A few years ago, the guy who was mayor had a sign put up at the city limits stating that Parkersburg believed in diversity. That may sound racial or religious, but in Parkersburg, it was aimed at making the sexual deviants feel welcome. Just because I don't believe in mistreating them doesn't mean that I want to encourage either their behavior or their moving here. It's hard to fight city hall, as they say, and even one of our local officials has something in common with a three dollar bill, despite him calling himself a republican.

This week, a bill was put before the city council to make it illegal in the city for a business to discriminate for various reasons, including sexual preference. What that really means is that like California law, it will be illegal for a Christian business person to refuse to bake a "gay" wedding cake, etc. in our county seat. I'm sure the officials who want it passed haven't thought that Christian businesses may well choose to relocate in the adjoining city to escape such immoral laws. I found it interesting that a woman stood to speak in favor of it, while calling herself a "Christian," despite the fact that the law was created largely to benefit those who practice a lifestyle that Almighty God calls an abomination. It's a sick world we live in, and Parkersburg seems to be leading the charge to perdition.
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Massive Tunnel System Found Under Border - Media Silent (a link)

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http://thetruthdivision.com/2016/12/breaking-two-tunnels-found-under-the-border-trump-was-right/
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Just Before LaVoy Finnicum's Murder By The Feds (a video link)

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Finnicum stepped out of the truck so they wouldn't murder his passengers in the process of murdering HIM!
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Buyer Beware (a link)

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Perpetual Proverbs: Buyer Beware
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Memes

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Click images to enlarge.
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Sunday, March 12, 2017

Valid Points (memes)

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Click images to enlarge.
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Latina Demands That Whites Pay For Her Spring Break (a link)

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https://conservativedailypost.com/latina-enrolled-48k-university-demands-whites-pay-reparation-money-fund-spring-break/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=CDR&utm_content=Allison
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Can't Vouch For This! (a link)

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https://www.teaparty.org/outrage-3-trump-hating-judges-granted-obamas-wiretap-hid-huge-secret-223182/
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The True Military Record of John McCain

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This was on Facebook; take it for what it's worth to you. Personally, I don't have much info on the guy and what I've seen proves that he's a closet democrat (RINO).

July 24, 2015
Written by an Active Marine
McCain has never really earned anything. He is from a wealth pampered background and not fit to lead this nation.
A “war hero” doesn’t finished 894th out of 899 and still get stationed at a Navy champagne unit and promoted ahead of all but two of his 898 other classmates.
A “war hero” doesn’t crash three U.S. Navy jets out of sheer incompetence and ineptitude, including two during non-combat training sessions.
A “war hero” doesn’t get written up on drunk-and-disorderly, fraternization, disobeying orders, and insubordination charges more than two dozen times in less than three years.
A “war hero” doesn’t get promoted to squadron commander of the air field named after his own grandfather immediately after crashing his third airplane. A “war hero” doesn’t have all the military records that cover his time in Vietnam and all disciplinary actions against him censored and sealed “as a matte r of national security.” A “war hero” doesn’t get 28 medals awarded all after-the-fact “for bravery” for no other reason than being shot down and captured and then go on a celebrity public relations tour because he’s the son of two acclaimed Navy admirals. A “war hero” doesn’t repeatedly cheat on the wife who’s back in the states waiting for him, and then cheat on her more when he returns to the states, and then divorce and abandon her.
A “war hero” doesn’t systematically vote against every single pay and benefit increase for military and veterans throughout his entire political career, all the while claiming to be “the soldier’s Congressman,” and then take credit for the passage of a G.I. benefits bill he that voted AGAINST. A “war hero” McCain III lost jet number one in 1958 when he plunged into Corpus Christi Bay while practicing landings. He was knocked unconscious by the impact coming to as the plane settled to the bottom. McCain’s second crash occurred while he was deployed in the Mediterranean. “Flying too low over the Iberian Peninsula,” Timberg wrote, “he took out some power lines [reminiscent of the 1998 incident in which a Marine Corps jet sliced through the cables of a gondola at an Italian ski resort, killing 20] which led to a spate of newspaper stories in which he was predictably identified as the son of an admiral.”
McCain’s third crash three occurred when he was returning from flying a Navy trainer solo to Philadelphia for an Army-Navy football game. Timberg reported that McCain radioed, “I’ve got a flameout” and went through standard relight procedures three times before ejecting at one thousand feet. McCain landed on a deserted beach moments before the plane slammed into a clump of trees. McCain’s fifth loss happened during his 23rd mission over North Vietnam on Oct. 26, 1967, when McCain’s A-4 Skyhawk was shot down by a surface-to-air missile. McCain ejected from the plane breaking both arms an d a leg in the process and subsequently parachuted into Truc Bach Lake near Hanoi. For 23 combat missions (an estimated 20 hours over enemy territory), the U.S. Navy awarded McCain a Silver Star, a Legion of Merit for Valor, a Distinguished Flying Cross, three Bronze Stars, two Commendation medals plus two Purple Hearts and a dozen service medals. “McCain had roughly 20 hours in combat,” explains Bill Bell, a veteran of Vietnam and former chief of the U.S. Office for POW/MIA Affairs — the first official U.S. representative in Vietnam since the 1973 fall of Saigon. “Since McCain got 28 medals,” Bell continues, “that equals out to about a medal-and-a-half for each hour he spent in combat. There were infantry guys — grunts on the ground — who had more than 7,000 hours in combat and I can tell you that there were times and situations where I’m sure a prison cell would have looked pretty good to them by comparison
The question really is how many guys got that number of medals for not being shot down.” For years, McCain has been an unchecked master at manipulating an overly friendly and biased news media. The former POW turned Congressman, turned U.S. Senator, has managed to gloss over his failures as a pilot by exaggerating his military service and lying about his feats of heroism. McCain has sprouted a halo and wings to become America’s POW-hero presidential candidate.
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Another Link On The Government Murder Of Lavoy Finnicum

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https://www.intellihub.com/5-elite-national-fbi-agents-under-criminal-investigation-for-shots-fired-at-lavoy-finicum-and-cover-up/
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The WHITE Slaves That Time Forgot (a link)

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Maybe because ONLY black lives matter.

http://www.thenewportbuzz.com/the-irish-slave-trade-the-slaves-that-time-forgot/7191
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Saturday, March 11, 2017

Hints Of Murder After All? (a link)

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http://www.usasupreme.com/breaking-wikileaks-exposes-assassination-scalia/
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Saturday Memes

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Click images to enlarge.







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Neat Old Car And Train (pic)

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Click image to enlarge.
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Friends Of The Bottle

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When I was a kid, it wasn’t uncommon for men to remain bachelors or widowers as they went through life, nor was it considered unusual for widows not to remarry or even for women to remain single, becoming the old maids some folks used to joke about. These days, it seems rare that anyone remains unattached for life, maybe because fornication and even sexual perversion are not only tolerated, but openly encouraged. That gives single folks a heap more options than they had in the old days. I prefer the old days.

Just here on Tick Ridge, I can recall six old bachelors and one old maid, all living within about half mile of one another when I was a kid. Coming east on Tick Ridge Road, the first old bachelor (Widower? Divorced guy?) lived just off the road about 75 yards in a little two room shanty with no running water and an outhouse. Like a lot of semi-recluses, he had a reputation for enjoying beer. I remember Dad and I cutting up sawmill edgings and slabs about 16 inches long and filling the 15 foot long bed of our truck until the tall heap pile of wood would barely stay inside the two-foot sideboards. Then, we’d haul it out to bachelor number one and throw it off into a big pile directly before his front door. At the side of his shanty was a similarly shaped pile of quart beer bottles coming up to the window sill.

The Second old bachelor lived back the same two-track farm road, nearly a quarter of a mile further, in an old one room log cabin with a porch on opposite sides and a cellar underneath. Like the first, he had a cistern and an outhouse. He was a divorced fellow who was on the lam from his ex-wife’s lawyer, so he could avoid pay alimony and maybe child support. He was an avid gardener who grew all his own fruits and vegetables, plus made tool handles and did a little blacksmithing to pick up some spending money. He didn’t own the little farm that he lived on, or the cattle in the pasture; he just lived there rent-free, or may even was given a few dollars a month to keep an eye on the place for the barber in town who owned it. Like the first bachelor, this guy liked his beer, too, but he was much neater than the first. Instead of letting the bottles pile up around the cabin, he dumped them over the pasture fence, down over the hill out of sight and into the back of our woodland.

Bachelors three and four were father and son, both divorced and living in a strange little five room house, further out the main road, that looked like a 1940’s gas station more than a house, though it wasn’t and never had been. Both men picked up work as they could and spent it all on groceries and beer, their only expense, except just enough electric for lights and a refrigerator. Their dogs shared the house with them, so both men were sort of fuzzy around the edges. They pulled their water from a cistern, peed in the yard and took a dump, when the need arose, in an outhouse that had seen far better days. After the older man died and the younger one hit 55 years of age, he got a job with the school board, so he could get in enough time to draw a little Social Security when he hit 65. The neighborhood joke was that folks thought you had to tire before you could RE-tire. He never lost his love for beer, but in the last few years of his life, a woman in a white Cadillac picked him up every Friday evening and brought him back every Monday morning. For some strange reason, he always smelled like a rose on Fridays and took a change of clothes in a paper bag when he left. The bottle dump at that place was a couple hundred yards over the hill, though they might pile up by the back porch until there was enough for a wheel-barrow load.

The old maid and bachelor number five actually lived together, not because they were “living in sin” (Now THERE’S a phrase you don’t hear anymore!), but because they were sister and brother living in their old home place. They lived the next place after the home just mentioned. Neither one of them drank in the beginning, but they were friends of a sort with the other five bachelors who did, so the bachelors would sometimes stop by and visit. Bachelors two and four, visited especially often, as they seemed somewhat interested in the unwashed old maid. There was no need of the old gal going unwashed, but she had dozens of cats and seemed to have developed their distaste for getting wet. Like the other homes mentioned, they had a cistern and an outhouse.

Bachelor number six lived a short distance further out the county road in what was either a skinny two room shack or an old trailer with boards nailed over it. He, too, had a cistern and an outhouse. I was in the shanty once as a kid and saw my first picture of a nude woman there. It wasn’t from a magazine, but a photo of a good-looking naked woman sitting on a boulder the size of a small house, somewhere out in the woods. It was tucked into the corner of a mirror sitting on dresser in his front room. I took a good look when his back was turned and decided that he must have gotten around some when he was younger. He never let bottles build up around the place so, since he didn’t have a car, I suspect he threw them over the fence into the neighbor’s woods.

When the bachelors 1 through 4 and 6 would visit one another, beer was always on the menu. Little by little, beer was brought into the home of the brother and sister as well, since the fifth bachelor eventually developed a taste for it. I never heard that the old maid touched the stuff. Bachelor number one was the oldest and the first to go, then bachelor number six, followed by number four. Bachelor number two eventually drank enough beer that he married the old maid and, knowing that three is a crowd, the brother eventually got an apartment in town where he died a few years later after a drunken tumble down a flight of stairs. Bachelor two, married for many years by that time, finally succumbed to old age as did bachelor number four. The old maid lived for many more years, making enemies and causing trouble in the neighborhood in her old age. But she, too, finally left this life.

Of course, not all old bachelors and old maids are of such “colorful” character, but all (except maybe the old maid) were actually missed after they passed by those who found them both entertaining and interesting, due to the stories they told. Some of those stories were even true. A few of you may have noticed a common trait among these folks besides beer—all had cisterns. That’s because, unfortunately,  no well drilled or dug on Tick Ridge ever produced water, even though there are springs lower down on the hillsides or in the hollows. And now you know something that you didn’t! © 2017
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Clemson University Satanists To Sacrifice Lamb And Burn Bibles (a link)

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https://heatst.com/culture-wars/student-satanists-announce-lamb-sacrifice-and-bible-burning-at-clemson-u/?mod=sm_fb_post

Maybe they should have a Koran burning. Of course that won't happen for THREE reasons. First, it's not politically correct - second, the Koran belongs to Satan anyway, so it wouldn't make sense for satanists to burn their own - third, they're sniveling cowards at heart, since they know that the local muslims might behead them for such a thing, whereas Christians will just pray for their hell-bound souls.
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Electronic Device Shuts Down When Asked If it's Connected To The CIA (a link)

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http://newamericannews.com/amazon-echo-asked-connected-cia/
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1500 Already Arrested For Sex Trafficking By This Administration (a link)

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http://www1.cbn.com/cbnnews/us/2017/march/president-trumps-crackdown-on-sex-trafficking-is-working?cpid=socclub&adbsc=social_700club_daily70699446&adbid=10155014152856668&adbpl=fb&adbpr=6445306667

I wonder how long before they get the Clintons?
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Kalifornia democrat Introduces Bill To Block Funds From Troops (a link)

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http://truthfeed.com/breaking-democrats-introduce-bill-to-block-funding-to-our-troops-overseas/56509/
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Black Caucus - Apparently Some Blacks are More Equal Than Others (a link)

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http://thetruthdivision.com/2017/03/just-in-congressional-black-caucus-leaders-quietly-gave-themselves-huge-salaries/
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Hidden Truth (a link)

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Pumice hid a great truth in his post today. Check the closing sentence of his second paragraph.

Medley of Worship: Opus 2017-079: Headlines: The Flippy Side
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OOPS! Things Change When Liberals Stage Mock Trump/Clinton Debate With Switched Genders (a link)

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http://www.conservativecountry.net/politics/trump-hillary-swapped-genders-reenactment-debates-genders-switched-shocks-liberal-audience/?hutm_source
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NSA Staffers Spied On Spouses And Ex-Lovers (a link)

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http://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-surveillance-watchdog-idUSBRE98Q14G20130927
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CIA Murders? (a link)

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http://madworldnews.com/democrats-wikileaks-assassination/
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Memes

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Saturday, March 4, 2017

Another Tiny Step In The Right Direction

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The missus went to the Chinamart on the far side of town to pick up a few things today. We took the Mighty Dachshund, so I stayed at the truck with her. After sharing a beef stick with her. I put her on the long leash and let her sniff around in the grass at the edge of the Lowe’s lot next door, while I sat on the tailgate. Eventually, she wanted to travel further, so I got off my duff and walked her around a little. While doing so, I noticed a nice rosette of yellow-dock in the rough area outside the mowed area. When I put the little hound back in the truck, I got my shovel from the truck bed and dug it up.

On arriving home, I set the dock plant in the center of the old tire where I have some poke planted in a ring around the edge. I figure that the dock will show up first every year and give me some greens. Then, it will be an “understory” plant once the poke starts growing. Maybe it will give me some seed to expand my “greens garden” eventually. One thing about it, most folks won’t bother to steal greens if times get tough. © 2017
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Thursday, March 2, 2017

Predawn Wednesday Porch Sit

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Predawn might be a bit misleading; it was actually five o’clock this morning when I took the Mighty Dachshund out to drain. Despite having slipped on my L.L. Bean camp mocs, I stayed on the porch and let her go to the end of the leash to drain in the rain. It was only sprinkling in reality, but she’s like a cat and is offended by falling rain (and baths), so she did as she often does at such times and went under the bumper of the truck to drain in the dry. In foul weather, I often stay on the edge of the porch and let her handle the weather on her own. If I quit mowing the lawn during the warm months, there would probably be a thin jungle of grass and weeds around the porch from the effects of all the liquid fertilizer that’s been drained there.

After finishing her drain, the pooch jumped back up on the porch and gave a good shake, just in case a few drops of rain fell on her between the edge of the porch and the cover of the bumper. I turned off the flashlight, since the street light, 200 feet away along the country road, gave us just enough light to navigate the dark porch. My dad had the street light installed after someone stole an entire truck load of lumber one dark stormy night 50 years ago when the old sawmill was still here. My wife feels it’s worth the extra $15 every other month for the security it provides, so I continue to keep it.

When we got to the door of the house, I told the pooch to “get on the rug” (welcome mat), while I sat down in the porch swing. The rain hadn’t come in much on the porch, but the cool concrete had a sheen to where it had pulled moisture from the warmer moist air. I figured the pooch would not only be warmer on the mat, but would stay dry as well. It wasn’t especially warm for a guy in his skivvies and no T-shirt sitting there in the swing on the last night of February (first morning of March, actually), but it was bearable, even with the breeze that I was actually thankful for, since I knew it would keep away the mosquitoes.

The street light gave just enough illumination that we could see if any critter invaded the lawn. I kept an eye out for coyotes, bobcats and mountain lions, along with strange dogs. Not having a firearm with me, I would duck quickly inside with the dog, if such a creature showed up. Were it a coyote or a mountain lion, I’d probably return with a gun, but without the dog. Bobcats and dogs are okay with me so I’d leave them alone.

The night of rain had everything thoroughly soaked, so the bottom of the tree limbs and the tops of most other things glistened like diamonds in the darkness from the reflections of the street light. As the rain picked up, I could see shiny little eruptions in the water puddles of the driveway where the raindrops hit. The rain kept building until it was a downpour, but the breeze wasn’t quite strong enough, nor from the right direction to allow the rain to reach us, so we watched and listened to the wind and the falling rain. Even in the darkness, I could see the Mighty Dachshund’s sides quiver as she breathed in a staccato rhythm to scent whatever the breeze brought to her nostrils.

Eventually, she looked over her shoulder at me and stood up, her signal that it was time for her to go check on the missus. We shared a cookie before she resumed her sentry duty by my wife’s bed and I returned upstairs to mine. It was still raining when we repeated the drill later in the daylight. © 2017
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Sunday, February 26, 2017

Recent Porch Sits

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Weather and my wife's “schedule” have conspired lately to keep the pooch and I from having much porch time. A week ago today was one exception. It was an indicator of the temperature that we heard the spring peepers singing for the first time this year on our way back from town. That would have been February 19th. A tad early, it seems to me.

When we got to the house, I let the Mighty Dachshund drain and dump and sniff, and then we settled in on the porch for a while. A wren and a couple tufted titmice supplied conversation in the brushy edge of woods before us. In the head of the small hollow only a stone's throw before us, a small woodpecker thump-thumped on a limb, while a larger one drummed out a jungle beat on a dead snag. Crows cawed from a couple locations in the distance, but sounded as if they were moving about as if looking for something of interest. Just under the eaves of the porch roof, I could see through the tree tops as a buzzard circled high over the roadway, just visible through a corner of woods, looking for road-kill, no doubt.

The weather was entirely too comfortable for me to be sitting there in jeans and a T-shirt. I should have been freezing my backside sitting in the swing on a mid-February day. That's why the Easter flowers (daffodils) at the other end of the porch came out in bloom that day. Suspiciously warm winter we've been having! The pooches little nostrils had been doing the tango the whole time she'd been laying at my feet. At one point, she began growling at the orange color visible through the woods from a road sign put up the week before warning of a rough spot in the road. She knew it was something new, since the last time she'd lain there studying the landscape. It's been warm enough lately that the highway department could have repaired the rough spot had they chose, but I guess it was easier to just put up a sign. Finally, the missus got lonely and told me that I should bring in the dog, so we obliged.

It was fairly warm for a night for February, when I took the pooch outside at 3:30 the next morning. It was 49 degrees when I took her out again at 7. After giving her a chance to drain and dump and cleaning her backside (no poopy butts in the house, please), we settled in on the porch. It had rained a little in the night and the fog lay heavy on the hilltop area surrounding us. There were no little birds to be heard at the time, but the sound of traffic on the distant four-lane was louder than normal. The traffic sounds are much more intrusive than they were when I built this house 37 years ago. There wasn't yet any traffic on the road out front that morning, though. A quiet rumble came from the throat of the Mighty Dachshund as she noticed a couple deer on the far side of the pile of wood that I've been stacking up to sell. Their shapes were softened by the fog, but she knew what they were. I told her “no bark” and she grudgingly kept her comments to the low rumbles she'd already been making.

Within a few minutes, I could pick out at least three roosters crowing in the distance and some crows on the far side of the hill were getting a bit outspoken about something. Once, I heard a pair of geese flying through (or above) the fog. They seem to be pairing up for nesting already in my area. The woodpeckers from the day before came back after a few minutes of our watch, but I certainly couldn’t see them. Somewhere above the house a small airplane flew, heading away from the local airport where it had probably just departed. By the time we’d been porch sitting a half-hour, traffic began on the little country road at the edge of our front lawn. It was easy to tell who’d allowed themselves plenty of time for their foggy drive and who was already running late for work. Even with the missus sleeping blissfully away, I decided to end our watch and took the pooch inside. I was on the computer in another half-hour when the sun finally broke through the fog. © 2017
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Saturday, February 25, 2017

More Memories

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This is a letter I wrote to a cousin about my great grandfather's family. Some of you may enjoy the stories. The names have been deleted to protect both the innocent AND the guilty. - lol

I don't remember Grandpa, of course, but I remember Grandma, as we called her, very well. She was absolutely the sweetest little old lady ever. I always liked to visit her. As long as she was living, Aunt Mary would go over and stay for a week or so as she could. I think she did that with your grandma some, too.

Grandpa lived and preached at X for many years, but I know that he also spent a year preaching out in Kansas City, Kansas, where his brother John was a doctor. There should be a photo of John on his cavalry horse in the photos I'm sending you. John's home was damaged and his $1000 grubstake washed away in a big flood in Kansas City soon after he moved there. That must have been a bitter pill to swallow.

Grandpa preached at New Haven, West Virginia (down river an hour or more), for 2-3 years also. Aunt Mary was just little then and remembers always getting in trouble for reaching through the picket fence and pulling the red hair of the little boy next door. She said she always figured the fascination was that his hair was about the same shade as her mother's hair.

Another place that Grandpa preached was at X, West Virginia, up in X County. He grew frustrated and left after a year, though. He said that he never saw such a place. Half the people who lived there were running around on their husbands or wives, and those who didn't spent all their time talking about those who did. He said he couldn't make a dent in the situation no matter how hard he tried. The funny thing is, forty years after he passed away, I drove a route truck through there for Red Rose Feed (bought out by Carnation by that time) and the town was STILL that way!

He told a story, I guess, of when he first began preaching as a circuit rider. A young couple in some back county wanted him to marry them, and when the time came, the weather was rainy and all the streams were swollen. He rode for THREE DAYS to get there, very nearly drowning a couple times along the way. After the ceremony, the groom asked him what he owed him, and he gave the joking answer “whatever you think she's worth.” The young fellow gave either a dollar or a quarter, I can't remember which now. Of course back then, a dollar was a day's wages and didn't come easy, so he told the story not as a complaint against the young man, but as an illustration that being a preacher wasn't always an easy task, or the job well paid.

Something we don't think about, perhaps, is that the old-time preachers led some pretty rough and tumble lives due to the circumstances of the day. They couldn't always afford to be the mild mannered guys we often think of as being pastoral material. Grandpa was no exception. Sometime while he was still preaching at X, a young man from the community sat in the back of the church and began heckling Grandpa. I think he gave him a warning or two, but it went unheeded. SO, Grandpa walked back to the young man, grabbed him by the back of his jacket collar and his belt, drug him out the door and pitched off the steps and into the lawn. He then calmly walked back to the front of the church and continued his sermon. A few weeks later, the young man was saved and soon became a respectable member of the community. Years later, I went to church for a few years with a lady who was either his daughter or his niece, but I never mentioned the story. LOL

Grandpa came from a large family, and one of his brothers was named Steve (Stephen, I assume). He was a big strapping fellow and became a policeman in Chicago. Because of his size and abilities, they kept sending him into the roughest most dangerous parts of the city. After a few years, he quit, for fear that, like so many of his coworkers, he would die young on the thankless job. He then moved to the Northwest and became a logger, where he eventually got an infection from a splinter under his nail and died of blood poisoning. I guess you never know!

I don't know if Uncle Albert just went from job to job all his life in the oilfields or if he ended up working for one particular company, like South Penn. I DO know that he worked some for my Granddad, and then worked in Texas for a while. I only remember meeting him once, over at the old home place. I don't know if you remember it or not. I know there were cattle in the field, and he had a small garden near the little house. I think the barn was still standing at the time, but I don't remember any horse. I mention that because Norman used to grin and tell of trying to talk him into getting rid of his old work horse. Without thinking, Albert replied, “But I wouldn't have anything to haul out the manure!” He had to laugh at himself as it sunk in that there wouldn't BE any manure if it wasn't for the horse. I think he kept the horse, though. I don't blame him. People are a dime a dozen, but a good horse is hard to come by! ;-)

I think I only met Uncle Charlie one time also. It seemed to me that he was living somewhere downtown in an apartment, or maybe a boarding house or old-time nursing home. He couldn't remember my name and kept calling me “Sam,” not that it mattered. He gave me one of those little hammers with the brass handle that has screw-drivers inside. It disappeared somehow over the years, but I think they still make them. He lived with my grandparents and helped at the farm some after he retired. One day, they were up at my Uncle Jim and Aunt Cora's putting in hay. Charlie arrived and walked into the barn just as the big steel needle-like hay hook broke free from the rope, came right down in front of his nose and stuck in the oak floor of the barn just ahead of his feet. I guess he turned white as a sheet, turned around, and began walking home, all without saying a word.
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Friday, February 24, 2017

A Troubling Tuesday

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You might say that Tuesday wasn’t a good day for us. My wife’s youngest brother came out to check out our clothes washer and dish washer (he repairs them and does HVAC work). The news wasn’t good. The clothes washer needed replaced (not that old, yet long out of warranty) and it was going to cost $100 in parts to fix the dish washer—not good for poor folks. That wasn’t the worst, though.

My wife was raised in a theoretically Christian home, but she’s the only one of five remaining kids who’s a Christian. Two are outright atheists and two are agnostics who “believe in God,” but not necessarily in Jesus. Her youngest brother was the last for which she still had any respect (for multiple reasons). Unfortunately, while he was here Tuesday, and I was outside, he unloaded on her about her religion, us being republicans (which we aren’t), us being Trump supporters (which we are, but never told him) and how global warming was going to kill us all in short order, and it was all the fault of republicans, Christians and Trump supporters. She said her once loving and caring little brother was seething with anger and hatred. She said she just tried to bite her tongue and not egg him on in any way. Needless to say, his behavior hurt her deeply and she now feels that she has no family left, except her son, who they’ve half turned against her.

Her son ended up buying us a clothes washer, despite my protests (we could have stolen the money from our vehicle repair budget). Also, a pleasant surprise concerning our utility bills will allow us to have the money to buy the parts for the dish washer, and we can probably put them on ourselves. Nothing heals a broken heart, though. I used to have a lot of respect for that brother of hers, but there’s none left now. I think he would have been okay if he’d married a decent woman, but he didn’t. She plays the part, but it’s all an act. Thankfully, the Lord is getting my wife through this painful situation. © 2017
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