Flashback Twenty-One Years...

Here I am after single-handedly capturing an abandoned Iraqi armored vehicle.  No magazine was inserted in that AK47 because I was a reservist, and reservists can't be trusted with mags inserted.  Any dumb-ass knows that.

Twenty-one years ago today, I set foot on foreign soil...Saudi Arabia.

What a fucking shit-hole that place is...

My mission...and I had no choice about accepting it or not...was to "maintain the free flow of oil at market prices."

(And to maintain the free flow of communications so the captain could call his old lady back in the States whenever he wanted some fun sexy phone time...)

How fucking cool is that?

I got to go to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia...a fucking KINGDOM...to support, protect, and defend my country and its Constitution from its various sundry evil enemies...because the Saudis and Kuwaitis either wouldn't, or couldn't, or didn't feel like it 'cuz they were too busy blasting through the desert in their fucking air-conditioned Bentleys to be bothered.

Such an honor...to be sent to a place in order to make sure the oil companies and the bankers and the arms manufacturers get theirs.

SALUTE!  Motherfuckers.

 

We have learned so much in the last twenty years.

I can't wait until MY kids get to do the same shit.

Yeah.  Right.

Over my dead fucking body.

Some of you might be saying, "But...but...but...Zoomie!  You were so gung-ho about it all back in 1991!" 

I was a young and ignorant dumb-ass back then.

I am old and wise and curmudgeonly now.

Fuckin' A Skippy Trieger...

One or two of you motherfuckers will get that last line. 

Happy 2012! 

Goodnight Bill Of Rights

Well.  

Looky here.

The purpled-tongued stutterer Obama signed this bullshit NDAA into law today.

Awesome.

He had "serious reservations," though...so it's cool.

Treasonous bastard...

Happy fucking New Year.

Stock up and hold on to your false teeth, ladies.

2012 could get rough.

It's 30 minutes to midnight, and I feel like a door has been closed.

I worked all day, and the kids are off at a party somewhere, so it's just me and my wife to ring in the New Year by ourselves for the first time in almost 20 years.

I can't help but think about what kind of future my children are facing.

I am not optimistic, but I'll be damned if I blame myself.

R-R-R-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-G-H-T !

 

U.S. District Court Rules Iran Behind 9/11 Attacks

How convenient...

Just in time to spool up the war machine once again...

I mean...with Iraq and Afghanistan winding down, the arms manufacturers need to sell more weapons.

Right?

Iran is as good a place as any to open up a new market, I guess.

Right?

This American government is beyond corrupt and immoral.

Right?

A solid year of campaigning ahead, and then this little party with Iran will kick off right after the purple-tongued stutterer declares himself the popularly elected victor.

Maybe.

This shit sickatates me. 

I'll be God-damned if I'll send my sons or daughter over there to get their asses shot off or blown up. 

Smedley Butler was r-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-g-h-t. 

 

 

Sometimes, Folks Need Killin'...Even On Christmas!

On December 25, 1776, Washington and his troops crossed the Delaware River to kill up a shitload of Hessian mercenaries.  

Nothing says Merry Christmas like sneaking up and slitting the throats of and/or capturing 900 hungover krauts!

It's Yuletide stories like this that make me feel all warm and gooey inside, and bring visions of sugar plumbs, candy canes, and bayonets dancing in my noggin.


Or something...

Merry Christmas to all my intardnet buddies. 

Keep your powder dry.

Satanic, demon-possessed gingerbread warrior, equipped with candy cane sword and cinnamon roll shield, prepares to open up a 55 gallon drum of whup-ass on Nazi storm troopers.  Artwork done many years ago by my son Willie.  It hangs on our Christmas tree!

Fuck A Bunch Of MOPAR

 

Look who checked in!  ^^^^^^ 

I kill me sometimes.

I did a complete front brake job on the wife's family truckster today…a 2001 Dodge Grand Caravan…in the driveway in near-freezing temperatures because I’m hard like that.

And a cheap bastard… 

MOPARS suck.  Did I tell you that recently? 

Why do I have to replace front pads and rotors every two years?

Back in the day with non-computer-designed vehicles, brakes would last forever, and a guy could get rotors and drums turned or resurfaced, and that shit would last ten years. 

I made three trips to the parts store to do this project because the parts-number-reading chick behind the counter gave me the wrong shit. 

She said I gave her bum scoop as to the brake setup on the car.

Looky here, bitch.  I’ve owned this sled for ten fucking years, and I can do a front brake job with my eyes closed, my pecker in one hand, and a beer in the other.

I know what I have, and I know what I told you.

Thanks for nothing. 

Girls should not work in auto parts stores. 

Girls should be at home wearing frilly clothing and making sammiches for their men.

That’s what I think. 

Caravans=bad design. 

Front heavy sons-a-bitches eat brakes like it's cool.   

Front suspension components not up to the task either.   

Light, stamped bullshit with cheesy rubber bushings and no grease zerks…designed and built by union commie heathen Canadians from Canadia.

 

I am so happy we bailed out Chrysler.

Fuck Obama.  Thanks, WireCutter.

I figure I saved at least $200 by doing it myself...which means more money for ammo and the upcoming apocalypse.

My wife is happy, and that’s all that really matters.

### 

As I worked on the van today, a Blackhawk helicopter buzzed over my house...probably to do a flyover for the Colts game...and check up on me.

I flipped him off.

Wolverines.

Wake The Fuck Up, America!

Update: 

Well...this bullshit passed the House, and that stuttering, Akita-tongued, treasonous, cocksucker Obama has indicated he will sign it!

What.  The.  Fuck?

I am filled with sadness and anger on this day...the 220th birthday of our Bill Of Rights.

Bury that motherfucker.

It is dead and putrefying.

This is a goddamned funeral.

 Benedict Arnold has a boner

It is unbelievable to me that Republican Indiana Senators Lugar and Coates voted FOR this unconstitutional abomination, while my Representative...Democrat uber-Lib Andre Carson...voted AGAINST it.

I sent Andre Carson a note of thanks.  I don't have a history of sending Mr. Carson pleasant missives.

The world is upside down, my friends.

Pardon me while I go vomit.

###

You think this shit can't happen again?

If it does, you can bet your ass they won't let you just stroll out of their camps and go back home...that is...if you even still HAVE a home to stroll back to when it's all over...that is...if it ever IS all over.

Maybe you'll get reparations.

Yeah.  Right.

This bill, the National Defense Authorization Act, has already flown through our treasonous Senate and goes to the House next.

It must not pass!

It pretty much puts the USA in a state of perpetual war and makes the USA a battlefield, and allows for all kinds of unsavory un-Constitutional shit to go down with our military gettin' all war-like in places it's not supposed to get all war-like.

All just so we can be safe from terrorists an' shits...

Fuck that noise.

Kiss your rights of a speedy trial, a warrant, and probable cause goodbye.

The Constitution will "mean whatever they say it means."

Oh...and the new law will also make it cool for our guys and gals in uniform to blow goats.  Isn't THAT special?

Assholes!

Don't tell me I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about because I'm just a dumb-ass truck driver either.

I have eyes that see and ears that hear, gawd-dammit.  I know fucked up shit when it is presented to me.  

I can sense that shit, so don't parse words with me and tell me I'm getting fucking hysterical.

Fuck you.  I don't need a lawyer or a degree to know when I'm about to be vigorously ass-raped.

Y'all best be writin' some serious shit to your representatives.

In the meantime, I would stock up if I were you.

Merry Christmas.

I'm Sorta Famous...For My Potty Mouth!

I told you people I was an intardnets legend.

Maybe next time you will believe me when I tell you something.

Or maybe not...

Here's the link from Lone Wolf Distributors.

I could probably get all kinds of free shit and hawt, scantily-clad gun show chicks from Lone Wolf now, but that's not how I roll.

Besides, my Glock is pretty much good to go at this point, and I don't think I need any more go-faster parts for it to tart it up.

It's not my style.

I am grey-man.

I keep a low profile.

Or something.

Combat Antenna Part 2

About a year ago I posted some dark shit I was feeling in a screed I called Combat Antenna.

It may or may not be helpful for both of my fans to read it before you go any further.

The following will make sense to some, and not so much to others...and it sure as hell is going to furrow a brow or two with some of my dear family members.

Whatever.

I sometimes have a hard time expressing myself when I'm not being the silly class clown, but here it goes...

Many in the patriot/constitutional restoration/militia community (understandably) whine and cry about poor turnout at our events, and wonder why attendance is so sparse.

I suppose there are many reasons for light attendance. 

In my own piss-poor way, I will put forth a reason or two I came up with…

Rightly or wrongly, the movement is portrayed as a bunch of angry old racist southern rednecks running around in the woods with guns.

I, for one, have no problem with “rednecks.”   

Hell…I’m a born and bred Hoosier, so it would be hypocritical for me to hate on rednecks, as I pretty much consider myself one.

In fact…I have been called a redneck more than once in my life, and I never took it as an insult.

And guns?  Well…I kinda LIKE guns!

Old and angry?  Yeah…you got me there.

I suppose I am also a Yankee, but over the years I have found that I have more in common with southern folks than not.

What I’m saying is that I don’t consider angry old racist rednecks to be exclusive to the south.

Clear as mud?  Probably not…

That said, I have absolutely no interest in standing shoulder-to-shoulder, risking my ass, breaking bread, or sharing brotherly/patriotic moments with a fucking racist.

If you hate blacks, Jews, Hispanics, Asians, or Indians just because they are blacks, Jews, Hispanics, Asians, or Indians, then I won’t help you, and I sure as fuck ain’t gonna risk my ass along side you.

You better find a better reason to hate a fool, or I won’t help you, and Lord knows we have plenty of solid reasons to hate on the government assholes that tread on our rights and subvert our Constitution like it is cool.  

That’s enough hate to last a man a lifetime.

If you are a Kluxer, I won’t help you.

If you are a Nazi, I won’t help you.

If you are a Commie, I won’t help you.

If there is one thing I learned while briefly dabbling in all things Marine Corps-ish, it is that if you have a job to do and your ass is on the line, you don’t give a damn what color of skin the guy has in the hole next to you…or where he’s from. 

All you know is that you both have skin in the game.   

You both have something to lose if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain.

Kinda makes things nice, clean, neat…and “moral.”

If we don’t have moral…we ain’t got shit…and I, personally, won’t help.

We must have moral leaders also.

I won’t follow any leader who has the morals of an alley cat.

That’s the kinda shit that got us into this mess in the first place.

I ain't steppin' off no porch...and I ain't goin' to no green...and I ain't standin' shoulder-to-shoulder...with a fucking asshole.

So there.

And to all you government douche bags checking out this blog...

  

dErp

derp:

A simple, undefined reply when an ignorant comment or action is made. Brought to life in the South Park series, when Mr. Derp made a guest apperance at South Park Elementary as the chef for a day, followed by hitting himself in the head with a hammer and exclaiming "Derp!"

After almost five long ghastly years, this site is under re-construction

Please excuse the mess.

While trying to freshen up the look of things around here, I fucked up royal.

Yes.

I am a big dumbass.

All the crap will remain while I work to fix things, but it will look like shit and probably be hard to read.

Fret not.  I'll have it all back more better and brighter than ever.

It will be swell.

Maybe. 

Benched

You all know by now how I’m pretty much an old school kind of guy.

If it’s dusty, rusty, and in need of some tender loving care…I like it.

Cars, trucks, firearms, bikes (motorized or not), houses, buildings, bridges.

Today I will specifically discuss older vehicles, because something happened recently which brought the thought to mind.

I’ll get to THAT eventually.

Maybe.

Back in the day, it was relatively rare for a vehicle to have bucket seats unless you are talking about a Corvette or some kind of queer Eurofag car.

It was all bench seating, all the time.   

I don’t think I ever owned a vehicle with bucket or split front seats until several years into my marriage, (and by then it didn’t matter anymore!)

All modern vehicles have split front seating now.

Shit…even heavy duty dump trucks and semi tractors are outfitted with lavish interiors that would make a 1960s homeowner jealous. 

I believe there are a number of reasons for this. 

I will enumerate those reasons for you now:

A-   The typical American ass is enormous and requires king-sized LazyBoy type furniture to accommodate it.

B-   The typical person now carries along so much shit with them to make it through the day that massive center consoles the size of home entertainment centers are required to store all the crap.

3-   Daughters.

I have vague foggy fond memories of going on car dates back in the day. 

If my date slid over next to me immediately after getting in the car, I knew the girl was cool and wanted to be with me.  (I can recall a time or two when I actually wondered why the girl agreed to go out with me because of the way she behaved once we were on the date.  I appreciate a little enthusiasm.)

Sliding over is not possible with bucket seats, or with huge refrigerators and workstations in the way.

It’s a damn shame.

Sorta.

Or not.

Flash forward to current times...

My daughter has a new boyfriend.

He is a fine young man

He seems pleasant and polite enough.

He has read my make-believe screed about dating my daughter.

I think he is relatively clear about things.

He picks my daughter up for a date yesterday.

He comes to the door properly.

They go to his vehicle…a beat up 90’s model Chevy short bed pickup (I approve) with a bench seat. 

He does not open the door for her.  (I do not approve)

He gets in.  She gets it.

They pull away from the curb in front of the house, and before they clear the next-door neighbor’s property line, I see my daughter quickly slide over.

It was cute...

Fuck.

I should probably recommend a nice new modern Japanese coupe to the young man.

Mom and Dad always said I’d “get mine” some day when I had children.

I think I’ll go clean a rifle.

It's good for the soul.