I have to keep talking them straight...

I shared a picture, message was: 'I am a conservative, Pro-life, gun owner. What else can I do to make you angry?' or some such. A family member comes back with how can you be pro-life and a gun owner? I find that very easy - I actually know the danger of weapons, the effect on the humans shot, and the effects on the minds of the humans shooting. So my choices are because of knowledge, not because somebody says...

Another picture of the NRA Convention and someone posts, a child - what is a child doing there? (She really knew, but was repeating the mantra of NRA+Guns = EVIL.) My response, not that there are any anti-gunners reading those posts in Facebook, The child is growing up, informed aware and interested.

Listening to the Blues, falling asleep at the wheel...

Sunday evening and I listen to the Blues from KPLU while I drive back from Whidbey Island and the Coupeville Appleseed. I must talk too much, because I was tired enough to fall asleep again while waiting to load on the ferry in Clinton. Someone ran out and beat on my window to wake me up. I knew it couldn't happen twice, but it has.

I think back over the two days, and remember the good and bad stuff, I have to write a report and file it. Good that it was a safe shoot, bad that our only riflemen were only repeat riflemen (they had made rifleman before), but there was real improvement in everyone's performance. There were six youth, and they did the very best they could and shared in their families' experiencing the marksmanship and the heritage of the Revolutionary War. I made sure we had an opportunity to shoot a peppermint. That made a very young lady and her father very happy.

Of course the joy of bursting the peppermint could also be shared by the experienced Riflemen on the line, even to the point of offering to do another's candy. Two full AQTs on day one, and six on day two, four Redcoat targets, three sighting square, ball and dummy drill and all the Three Strikes and the basic three Dangerous Old Men stories. Did not shoot any Known Distance and this is a great range for a quick hundred meters demonstration shoot and practical application of Rifleman's Trajectory and bullet drop and rise. The shooters need better grounding in the basics, more study and dry fire and position practice.

I started Friday evening with the first day of a Revival at my church, and the speaker was great, subject was about being a good steward. And how the Lord will give you what you need for the call that He sends you, and you will not be wanting. I thanked the speaker and shook his hand, telling him I was going on my own mission in the morning, the Appleseed. My wife's pastor wanted me to bring another to the Revival during this weekend, but I was going to be where I could do the most good.

Drive and ferry ride were exactly as I expected, met Tracey at the gate and she told me she had ordered better weather (looked a lot like rain), but then she and I knew the Appleseed would happen anyway. So we starting setting up, Ralph came and added to the effort, Bob brought some breakfast and more help. We were on time and on schedule, only two No Shows.

I did too much talking, but I was very happy that Matthew took over nine hundred pictures on the first day, and an unknown but probably enormous amount on the second day. I am in so many more than if I had been the only photographer. He was also on top of handing out targets and assisting in anyway asked, he is still too young to be an Instructor in Training (IIT) but he has shot Rifleman. I think he will have to be my replacement one day in the future.

So as my medical tech asks, as she monitors my pacemaker's performance, have you done anything fun? the only answer is yes - I showed up and excelled. Who is telling this story anyway?

Every day, starts again, and I am still in wonder...

Picked up some flowers, looked at the new greens growths in the evergreens, dogs barked, a black Caravan honked at me and stuck an arm out the driver's window to wave as I walked along.

I think about changing back to the regular fifty star flag and taking the First Rebel Flag with me (Betsy's best) to Coupeville. I do have to pack out this afternoon after I refuel. I was about to exit for the YMCA, but my wife asked if I could wait and take some food to one of her friends for Korean social/hospitality reasons.

The answer is 'Yes, dear.' with a smile. I could sneak off and read some more adventures in the kindle. Or print out the shoot roster for the Appleseed (done!). Family groups, only six of twenty have done an Appleseed before, six are youngsters. No one is as old as I am, so I get the honors of age.

I was thinking about what could I do that would be a good thing when the world falls apart, what value would I have for society that could get me fed. In primitive societies everyone has a part. There were a lot of people doing the things I laughed about when I went to the University of Miami in 1967 - Basket Weaving. Or braiding, or knitting, or net making and mending, or goose herding. Everyone had something.

I would probably want to be the librarian/story teller. I don't eat too much now and have a great attitude to questions about how come we do it this way. Rick Santorem just called me about how to Take Back America. But America hasn't gone anywhere, I don't own it, and we will get what we work for and what we give away proudly. I recommend Love, always love.

The kitchen is closed tonight... did you hear me, yobo?

Ah, just more sweet nothings, yes, dear, I heard you. The kitchen is closed. I had a fine lunch at two, and have been nibbling and will knock out two Korean pancakes and I will stop eating long enough to nap, soon.

The rain has finally stopped a bit, the Sun is shining and I get to tell you how the Concealed Carry Permit renewal went. So smooth. First park and go to the Country Courthouse, where one gets the permit, or did ten years ago, and five years ago renewed at same. Go in the West doorway, where you may check your weapons and get a tag for pick upon your departure. No problem, metal items in that basket, weapons in this basket, walk through the metal detector. Easy, no conflict no problem. Then wander and find out that it isn't here any longer. Across the street in the 911 building. Okay, go back through gate, turn in check tag and get handed my weapons outside the metal detector. No questions, they do this daily.

Get a number for renewal of permit, fill out all the paperwork again, wait for call to show permit, photo ID, and pay 32 dollars for renewal and 3 dollars for lamination. I wash my wallet enough to believe in lamination. It will be coming to me in the mail in a few weeks - as soon as they check to see I am a fine fellow. Until then the current one hasn't expired. Civilization, is folks that use please and thank you. One customer was late on renewal, and the cost is more, but he was worried about keeping the same number. I never memorized mine but it is cool with lots of sevens and a pair of eights.

The car maintenance was fine, but they found more things to fix than I think I need this month, but the time is coming. If I win the Lottery I could buy a new car. If the world collapses I can walk when gasoline isn't around, or if the Chinese and Russians nuke us until we glow I don't need to worry.

I got myself a railroader's hat, it is cool. Just call me the brakeman.

Luckily, I don't write professionally, I don't seem to even write to be read...

Just have to get that off my mind and on to the monitor.

The nation is at the crossroads and there isn't a clear direction to go. If I want to dwell on metaphors we are stuck in the mud, and it is still raining. We wanted it all, bought it on credit, loaded it up on the wagon with the fine horses and went off down the road towards Easy Street. But the pot holes weren't fixed, the foundation has been corrupted and swept away, the highwaymen took all the valuables and cash. Leaving us, anything but high and dry, more like low and going lower. Wallowing in the mud and mire, since high and dry is for ships and I was working on station wagons or Conestoga's. (I drive a Caravan, see where I get stuck?).

Sent off the Plan of Instruction for this weekend's Appleseed, I have my shoot box, plus all the stuff I am carrying just in case. Lovely Coupeville, Washington. I catch the ferry at six, drive to the range and unload, set up and have a great two days of marksmanship and heritage. All the slots are filled, I need more instructors, but the pay is in satisfied smiles and that warms my soul, doesn't put potatoes on the plate. Still, it will work out, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

When did the NRA become so EVIL?

Ah, the demon Democrats did it. Or those that don't believe in the goodness of men or some other agents of CHAOS. Evil, just say the letters and my brother won't stand with them even when they are right.

Not that the NRA has stopped any murder conviction, nor have they lobbied for crazy tunes when no one wanted to sing. Just because they are the NRA, and they seem to buy government representative better than former Mayor of Madness Bloomberg. Then I do understand that fifty million dollars of fertilizer is going to make grass roots as deep as the Gun Lobby has... except the Gun Lobby has shooters and all kinds of gun lovers that don't put any money into causes, especially political ones. They just vote, demonstrate and expect to make every shot count. Or, and I often think this is the majority of the gun owners, they just go about their lives hoping no one bothers them in their activities with firearms -- but they aren't betting on it.

Kind of like the KKK demonstrating against the Jews, Catholics and other un-American races -- ideas that need to be looked at in the light of day. They weren't true nor worthy.

There are many bad ideas, false teachings, and evidence buried far from the light of day. Troubling times.

I think I will drive my wife to her eye operation, and read while I wait patiently. Wearing my reading glasses by Foster Grant. I did get my Rebel flag up yesterday, but I think I will go for the larger size next time and keep the two by three for a marching or demonstration guidon.

Uncomfort Zone... don't we all live in it?

I noticed the other day,  that I was getting comfortable being an old fat man, can't run, can't ... you name it and there are many things that I can't. What I found interesting was the idea that I wasn't comfortable being an old fat man - acceptance, I should be aware that I am more than what others and I see when I waddle, or limp, or walk down the street, but that I should accept what I am -- shouldn't I?  No, I am Earl, and I am a game changer... from the time my mother heard me breaking the crib slats so I could escape the afternoon nap (which I always thought was her rest time more than mine) to the jumping out of the second story window to escape to go down to see the circus parade... I wanted my way and I was going to reach it.

We work hard to make life good, adventurous and meaningful - and do best when challenged by being uncomfortable. I have been blaming women for civilization for years, men would still be living in caves hunting fishing drinking and swapping lies and brags and periodically paying attention to feminine companions. But no, women wanted more for their little piece of a man's life and the cave was cold and damp, and if they had to stay with the babies all day they wanted running water, fresh air and more of everything. Men are still stuck on hunting, fishing, drinking, swapping lies and brags -- they amount of time they listen to women has increased beyond measure - not that they are paying any more attention to them. Civilization has arrived.

Comfort sells: recliners, mattresses, a good night's sleep, snake oil medicines, pain relievers - words like easy, warm, dry, smooth, simple, and ready. Politicians use them constantly to assure the people they are being sensible, taken care of, and secure. But then politicians lie a lot, almost every time they open their mouths to speak. When the politician needs a vote, the language brings messages of comfort. When the politician needs you obey - the words will all strike fear into those listening.  Normally when trying to make a bad idea work.

So I am watching Helen of Troy on dvd, comparing and contrasting it with Brad Pitt's Troy and Homer's Iliad (in English verse). I am comfortable watching something unreal and still heroic, based on some long ago war between tribes in the bronze age - and Helen is hot and lightly dressed or totally naked periodically. If I could I would have merged the two visions of the war, no real humans nor animals were harmed in the making of this production - although the real story is based on human brutality. I have always told those that want to know what war is like, about and all - I have always told them to study the Iliad, it says it all.

Homer left out the sweating at the oars, the digging in and erecting camps, the wasting of the land the stench of the rotting dead that didn't matter enough to burn in honor, the screams of the wounded animals and men, the despair of the losers - panic, and the calming heroes standing against the discomfort of ruin and rape. He covered the important stuff - but real life and war is full of little problems, irritations and things to drive you to drink or anger or frustration - little uncomfort zones.

Best get out there and struggle against the overwhelming tide of time and truth... get into and destroy that which makes one's uncomfort zone. I just want to be loved... don't we all?