Oh!...I am Likin' This!!!

At the County Permits and Inspections Department

by Christy Ann Welty

This story was inspired by the comments of a World War II veteran. He came back from World War II to find his own government strangling the freedom for which he had been fighting. He found bureaucracy spreading like a fungus, controlling his fellow Americans with mind-numbing demands to conform to arbitrary regulations. With anguish and despair, and with the inevitable humor and clarity of one who has loved and lost much, he saw our future.


A man stood at the Permits and Inspections counter. He'd just received a permit to build a garage onto his house. The clerk had been efficient, taking his money and giving him a little slip of paper printed with a serial number, the day's date, his address, and a short description of the project. It had taken only a minute.

"Make sure you keep that permit in a safe place. The inspector has to see it when he comes out to look at your work," the clerk said. The man knew she was trying to be helpful, but it still irked him. He couldn't put his finger on why.

He stood holding the little slip of paper in his big hands. His hands had pounded hammers, lifted timbers, and matched miters. They were strong and hard. He knew his work was good. The little garage he was planning to build was child's play compared to other work he'd done. He'd been getting these permits for years, but it bothered him more than usual today. Must be getting old and cranky, he thought. He slipped the paper into his wallet, and pushed his wallet into his hip pocket.

"Where's your restroom?" he asked the clerk.

The clerk had turned away to ruffle through some other stacks of papers, but now wheeled her chair back to the counter. "I just need a little information from you. Oh, this is handy, your address is still on the screen," she said as she looked at her monitor.

The man cleared his throat. "I said, 'Where's your restroom?'"

"Why, yes, I heard you," the clerk said. "This won't take a minute."

The man was starting to feel like he was speaking a different language. "All I want to know is where is your restroom...." Little spots were reddening his cheeks.

"There, I have the right program. What is your birth date?" She sat with her hands poised over her keyboard.

"What are you talking about, ma'am?"

The clerk glanced at him, and looked back at her screen. "I need some information for a permit. Your birth date, the date of your last complete physical, and your doctor's name. I already have your address."

"What permit are you talking about? I didn't ask for another permit," he deliberately stared at her, hoping to intimidate her into turning toward him.

"It's ten dollars to cover the cost of lab testing and sending the results to you and your doctor," she spoke to her screen, avoiding his eyes.

He was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked around for the familiar restroom sign, and finally saw it at the far side of the Permit and Inspection office, on her side of the counter. His gut roiled in rebellion.

He edged over enough to see her monitor's screen, and read the title, "Permit for Fecal Inspection."

He blushed a dull red, and choked, "You'll see me in hell before I get a permit to take a shit!"

"It's for your health! They'll check for colon cancer and parasites, and many life-threatening disorders," she blustered, but she was arguing at his back as he strode out of the building. She turned back to her screen, and muttered, "And it's for your children, so they can plan for your care. And for County taxpayers, so they don't have to pay for your outrageous medical bills. And for your own protection, so you aren't taken in by quack medicine cure-alls."

She tapped a key, and the screen showed, "Permit Evaded." She clamped her lips together, and tapped another key, flagging the file with the tag, "Withhold Approval of Structure, Fecal Inspection Required." She sighed and shook her head. "Anybody who won't consent to inspection must have something to hide."


Note: I have to go through this all the time and while I haven't had to submit to a "fecal inspection", they sometimes want BLOOD. - David


Of all tyrannies a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. -C.S. Lewis

Sasha...

Well....

through an intersting chain of events, today...

I ended up finding some pictures of a dog, that we saved...and then lost...

There are some pictures posted on the web, from Gene Chapman's Archive (GO Gene!!!)

They say, "Time heals all wounds..."....but it ain't so....
Here is the story of when Sasha came to us. It was first published on our other blog on January 1, 2004, just a few days after we found her...and about three weeks before the birth of our grandson, who Sasha loved....

The car came out of nowhere. She didn't see it before bouncing off of its fender, landing just off the side of the road from the direction she had come. Her friend was a few steps in front of her and took the force of the metallic beast full on. It threw him some 50 feet up the road and slightly to the side. He lay there, still, with no signs of life.

Her thoughts were lost in foggy review. It had happened so suddenly, yet, in her semi-conscious state, the horrible event played, in slow motion, over and over again. Slowly the clouds began to take shape and the light began to contrast into brighter and darker objects. She blinked, trying to clear her mind and establish the source of the pain.

She lifted her head up and looked around. Seeing her friend, some distance away, she got up and wobbled across the distance, trying to keep from falling over. When she got to her friend, he lay very still. She could not tell if he was alive or dead. She felt a tremble and the strength left her legs and she let herself fall to the ground beside him.

The car had not stopped. The road was quiet and a little lonely, only seeing traffic once in a while. Her mind wandered over the preceding days and weeks. She was gaunt from hunger. She had eaten little, wandering the back roads and woods with her friend, both homeless. They ate what they could find. They drank from the canals. Her eyes closed and she drifted away.

She had been born into a large family. Probably too large. They could not afford to keep her. She was adopted by another family and forced to move away from those she had known since birth. The new family was nice. They taught her right from wrong, good from bad. They played with her and tried to make sure she was happy. But, in the end, they began to ignore her and to sometimes forget her.

That was why she ran away. Unable to bear the loss of love, she left in search of what she needed. Then she ran into him. And they laughed and played, rested and searched together. He was a companion on her journey. She didn't know how long she would stay with him, but for the time being, it was enough to have the warmth of a friend.

Now a sound came to her ears. Another car. She wrestled with consciousness. The car slowed and pulled past, then came to a stop and pulled off of the roadway. A young man got out and walked over to her. He was tall and young but had a concerned look on his face. He looked at her friend and then back at her. She heard him talking, but couldn't quite make it out. Was he talking to her?

She drifted in and out of dazed darkness. She didn't know how long it had been, but she heard yet another car stop. Two women, one young and one older came up to her. The young man made some comments about her friend. “I think that one's dead” he said. The women agreed. The younger one was now sitting beside her, offering sympathy. Still drifting between dark and light, she heard a vehicle drive off.

Now only the two women remained. The older woman was wearing sunglasses, hiding her eyes. But, there was a softness in her voice and gentleness in her touch that was calming. The younger woman had nice eyes, that seemed to captivate those who looked too long. And she, too, had a gentle manner about her.

They seemed to be waiting for someone. She just wished the pain would stop and that her friend would wake up and they could be on their way. Then another car, or maybe a truck, could be heard. It was louder than the other two. It slowed as it passed and then partly turned in the road and stopped.

A man, with salt and pepper hair, leaning more towards silver, got out and came over to her. He had a gruff and direct voice, but his gray eyes, with faint laugh lines at the corners, held a look of gentle compassion. He talked to the older woman and looked at her friend, still lying in the road. Then he reached down and touched her cheek. The touch was soothing and cool. He stood up and walked back to his truck. She heard him leave but didn't really pay much attention.

The older woman gently reached down and picked her up, carrying her to a large van and laying her in the back where the younger woman joined her. They could have driven an hour or only a minute. Time was lost to her. The stress, the pain and her malnutrition were catching up with her. Then, suddenly, they were helping her walk from the van and into a house.

They gave her water. Then they looked her over from top to bottom. They got out the soap and water and began to bath her. Once, twice, thrice before they were satisfied. She hadn't been this clean in ages. Her nose still hurt from bouncing off of the car, but it was improving. They made her a snack, which she gulped down eagerly. Then they cuddled her in a large towel and let her drift to sleep.

At first her dreams were only of the car and the stillness of her friend, mingled with the fun they had enjoyed together. But every time she awoke, the women were there and soothed her worry and pain. At one time she woke up and noticed others, like her, in the room. They rough-housed and played together nipping and chasing each other around the room. They tried to sound ferocious, but their waging tails gave them away. It was only play.

When they noticed her looking at them, they came over and sniffed her face and gave her a lick. Her initial apprehension faded. Nothing to fear from them. She drifted back to sleep and her dreams became more sedate. The women who had helped her, were nursing her back to health. Her fears eased and she relaxed even more.

She doesn't know how long she slept, but she heard the door open. In walked the man with the soft, gray eyes. He came over to her and touched her gently on the cheek, then patted her neck. She felt a sense of tranquil calm returning to her. She drifted off to sleep, too tired to pay attention to the man. Soon, the younger man, the first one she saw after the tragedy, came in. Again she drifted toward sleep even as she realized they were a family, these men, the two women and the others of her kind.

She awoke to a commotion. All were clamoring into the next room. She was encouraged to follow and staggered to her feet, following slowly and cautiously. She poked her head around a corner to the smell of food and the invitation to dine. And dine she did, for her appetite was now ravenous.

The man, with the gentle eyes, passed some cheese to her. It had been so long since she had tasted cheese. It was one of life's little treasures. After finishing dinner she was lead outside and allowed to walk around. Her legs were not so wobbly now, but she was still weak and could not stay up long.

Back inside they went and she curled up on the towel they had used to keep her warm. She then drifted off to sleep, forgetting the tragedy of the day and quietly reveling in the warmth of love that she had been seeking for so long.

We lost Sasha about six months later... But she is still with us in our hearts...

• "He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog." - Gene Hill

YEEEHHHAAAWWWW!!!!

Joseph Banister has been found Not Guilty on all charges...

Read it here...


BBBWWWAAAAHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAAA!!!!!

I used to think...

...now it just gives me a headache!!!

Actually, I used to think that going up against the government was bad idea because the government is populated with the best of the best. They were armed with the best weapons, both legally and offensively. They were a well oiled, conspiratorial machine.

I don't think that anymore. The vast number of really stupid ideas and comments coming from government officals, contractors and journalists (yes there are government journalists, you twit), has led me to believe that this country is in the shape it is in, solely from incompetance, not conspiracy.

Here is an example of economic incompetance...

I will start off with one comment that is so blatantly
stupid that it was instantaneously perceived as such by
practically everyone. I intended to do an essay on this one
item alone, but by the time I passed the comment around,
three other blogs were already reporting on it. In case you
missed it however, here it is: Federal Reserve Bank of
Dallas President Richard Fisher said this to CNBC on
Wednesday:

"Where would the world be if Americans did not live out
their proclivity to consume everything that looks good,
feels good, sounds good, tastes good? We provide a service
for the rest of the world. If we were running a current
account surplus or trade surplus, what would happen to
economic growth worldwide, and what would be the economic
consequences? So I think we are doing our duty there."

Now let's take a look at what Mr. Alan Nevin, chief
economist for the California Building Industry Association,
said this week:

"People have the ability to borrow against their homes. If
times get tougher, they could borrow a sufficient amount to
pay their mortgages."

Another startling revelation! Borrow money to pay your
mortgage.

More here...

They really don't have a clue...

Never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by stupidity. - Nick Diamos

RebelFire...

"Justice Day"

You're the boot.
Stomping on the human face forever.
You're the eye.
Staring down on everyone and ever seeing all.
You're the lie.
Twisting all our minds into your whoredom.
You are Death.
You are war.
You are slavery.
You're the law.
You're the law.
You're the law!

When laws spew like vomit from power-drunk tongues
And freedom's a lie that the old tell the young
Then out of the darkness,
The rebels arise
And on that day the Outlaw, the Outlaw will ride.

When spies and lies choke out the spirit of life
And authority scrapes like a rusted dull knife
Then out of despair
The heros will soar.
On that day the Outlaw, the Outlaw is born.

(Chorus)
Breakdown, breakdown.
Fire in the mind.
Freedom on the firing line.

When "for your own good" is a lock and a chain
And "security's” used to enslave hearts and brains
Then out of our bondage
Rebellion will fly.
On that day, the Outlaw, the Outlaw will ride.

When criminals, criminals make all the laws
Then anyone breaking them fights a just cause.
So don't obey leaders
And don't follow rules
And the Outlaws, the Outlaws are saviors, not fools.

So crush their damned spycams, rip open your cage
Let liberty loose with a howl of wild rage
Each tyrant you smash
Is a freedom you've won
And the Outlaws -- we Outlaws – put power on the run.

(Repeat chorus to fadeout)

Lyrics by Claire Wolfe. Concept by Aaron Zelman. (c) 2005 Claire Wolfe and Aaron Zelman. All rights reserved. Lyrics may be copied, shared, or used for non-commercial purposes, as long as they are accompanied by this full credit and copyright line. Anyone wishing to record or otherwise use “Justice Day” lyrics for commercial purposes should contact RebelFire Press (www.rebelfirerock.com)

Keep your eye out for the reversal...

It may be sudden and drastic...

Interest rates will go up. Puff goes the American housing market. Down goes the dollar.

All of which is to say that there is a lot less support to the dollar than meets the eye. The dollar is simply GM in waiting. U.S. bonds are distressed debt owned increasingly by fund managers desperate to eke out a few basis points here and there. This is not the bedrock of a strong rally in a currency.

The dollar is a long-term sell. But if not the euro, what will it fall against next? Well, while the dollar rally story is shallow, the commodity bull story is still deep and rich.

When the dollar falls again - which it will - it will also fall against Asian currencies, especially in anticipation of a yuan revaluation by Bejing. It is possible, of course, that the dollar can remain stronger for longer than anyone expects. But the whole currency regime can come crashing down much more quickly than anyone expects as well.

It doesn't happen often. But it does happen, and when it does, it happens despite the fact that most people think the world will always work the way it works today.

More here...

Got Silver???