If you really understand the gun control point...

I am sorry that so many people were killed and wounded at Fort Hood, Texas today, they didn't deserve to be shot up like that. An Army officer did it (but we won't condemn officers) and doctor (but we won't condemn doctors) a shrink (but we won't condemn those that treat mental illness) a Muslim (but we won't condemn Muslims) with semi-automatic pistols with extra loaded magazines (but we won't condemn the firearms nor the bullets). In Texas, home to the Alamo, mythical Lonesome Dove, and cowboy culture there is Fort Hood (named for a fine Rebel general) with signs posted at all the gates that the Commander doesn't permit Concealed Carry and doesn't honor the state's permit to carry, that all weapons are locked up without ammunition, that all personal weapons are registered and locked in quarters or unit arms rooms unless given permission to use them in recreation. Nope, what happened today is what is the weakness in the argument that gun control means fewer deaths and destruction - in Texas that had the Texas Tower shooter, there are points of total gun control where potential victims abound. If those in the processing center had only made it to Indian Country they could have been carrying a weapon with at least twenty rounds as they wore their reflective belt, but they were being protected by foolish words and policies that don't bear the name of the commander, only his title.

Abstinence works it really does...

Abstinence implies the willful avoidance of pleasures... yep, that it does and it works for me. I am working on this irritation in my mind because of the mainstream media (which haven't a soul nor moral bone in its body) which seem to have Sarah Palin as a target of their wrath. Doing it by pointing out Bristol as proof of foolishly believing in the better behavior of humanity. I wish Bristol and her child all the beauty in love and life possible and I know that she is a much better person than they will ever be.

My mother made me believe in abstinence, there were still virgins at the wedding ceremonies when I was growing up and old, seemed to be fewer each year, but at a certain age I realized that it wasn't as important as love and commitment in a marriage. But I do believe in abstinence -- really it is critical and I want to point it out.

Abstinence is the only cure for addiction to tobacco, drugs and alcohol that ravage one's life - if you don't smoke, drink or shoot up, snort or swallow those things that you will not suffer anything more than better health, and that could be very good.

For me there isn't much more pleasure than a great shot, bullet striking target in exactly the point preferred and planned, and only my practice of Abstinence has allowed flaming fools to survive to be totally stupid another day. Handgun registration, gun control and all the laws in that flaming fools of the Left and Right pass to prevent my potential criminality have no effect on my better behavior - I practice Abstinence in my use of firearms, legality be hanged it will never match my will. I am one of the GOOD GUYS!

And last just for those that assume that Abstinence has to do with SEX, I close with why I don't say anything to that hot young lady over there - between sixteen and twenty-two, American, showing lots of well displayed skin, tasteful tattoo or two, enough makeup for make out, and in general a fine figure of a woman that would arouse my male interest. First, I really think I am one of the GOOD GUYS!, second that young lady could be as young as 13 - my eyes aren't that keen, third that young lady may have taken up a commercial enterprise and I am way too cheap to pay for something I think should be part of romance, fourth the government in its intelligence may have made a policewoman go out of uniform and under the cover to catch sexual solicitors and just general dirty ol' men -- and I am one of the GOOD GUYS! or so I think.

Lastly, I want to thank Gustav Klimt for his art and appreciation of the beauty of women --- and for not being my model of better male behavior. He was a very fine artist.

Funny how clearly one thinks when ill...

I dropped out of the rat race yesterday, just wasn't attending to the world around me much - I felt ill but struggling to stay with my workers and keep the library open, but I couldn't hold my mind nor will to the tasks at hand, just wanted to crawl off into a dark corner and rest up. So I gave up, there wasn't anything I loved enough to die trying... I gave up.

I don't like to be a quitter, many the times I have pushed myself to that far edge of pain and sorrow, but I don't really quit much. At one point there has to be more than pride in my power for that goes with the flickering strength and darkness closing in everywhere - when I begin to believe I might lose. That is when you only keep fighting for love, if it isn't about love there will be no more energy, strength from God only knows where. Being older and much wiser, I will look to see the cost and quit all the battles that aren't for better than I will ever be.

My mother doesn't realize how much of my fighting and killing has to do with my love of her, and dad and my other loves. If one doesn't love then one doesn't live and never understands what giving oneself up selflessly is all about. Better me than Thee. How many times have you heard that a parent would rather it had been them than their child, how many young people put on a uniform and march off to war to save everything their family means to them? It is all about love.

I laugh at kings and princes and presidents that think they have power and importance and should be given respect - if I loved them they would have it, if I am to respect them from fear then they should be afraid - what I fear I have destroyed to the best of my ability. Mostly I ignore them, there are enough fools in the world to glorify their pettiness. I am reminded that "as you do to the least of these you have done to me" yeah, got to love the little ones, the old ones, the left behind and forgotten ones, a quick smile and a gentle chuckle and tease - they are the ones worth fighting for.

Violence Never Solved Anything...

One of my mother's favorite "I know so much better than you" quotes to squander upon my bold boy being brutal mind... I didn't believe it then and I still don't. I grew up fighting, and that was a good thing. Watch most mammals you Evolutionists and see the dominate males snap, push and shove the younger males into line - playfully, until they later have to drive them off to keep the fertile females for themselves. For those looking for religious reasons for little Johnny to fight it is in almost every religious text, myth and fairy tale. Fighting for the benefit of the pride, the clan, the community is heroic and necessary for the survival of the species, so God and Science do approve.

So I have been worried about this constant chatter from the more wonderful thinking folks of the Left (mostly) that have zero tolerance for school yard squabbles. Force young boys to spend eight hours somewhere and not clench one's fists and toss a quick punch in frustration - why you might have to drug them into better behavior. Without the release of those fight and flee chemicals in violent conflict you could get some sick puppies -- now I do know the difference between fighting and killing, and I don't hold with the young folks running around killing each other, but then I see someone that hasn't fought jumping to picking up guns and blasting bullets as the only way to settle those strange thoughts, so sad.

If you fight, with fists and fury, you will often lose and that is an important lesson. If you fight you will notice that bigger, smarter, faster and competent makes a big difference but ready and willing still counts. You will notice after large numbers of attitude adjustments that sometimes diplomacy is required to live to fight another day, that the kid with guts that stood up to your best punches and kept coming is exactly your type of guy and if you were old enough you would buy a beer for him - so he might become your best buddy instead. There are many male life lessons that depend on the fighting and the growth of other ways to settle conflicts - which only come from fighting in that famous free school - the School of Hard Knocks.

About the picture - around Christmas 1968, I am twenty and a sergeant and I left my date twice to go outside and fight at the Battery party. She thought that a little strange. In 1993 at another formal function (Senior NCOs, Officers and dates) another Command Sergeant Major asked my wife if she would like to dance, she said he would have to ask her husband, her husband asked him if he would like to fight before or after the dance, he didn't - so my wife had no dance and I got no fight, sigh. The proper answer was to fight after the dance... I do wonder if those that want to have only peace understand the light that a woman might have in her eyes when her man is fighting for her and the things they believe in... ah, I only know a little about the fighting and nothing about the romance stuff, but I do think there could be a connection...

When they take you where you don't want to go...

I have been watching the Hospital for the last couple of days, thinking that I am as reluctant to go there as I am to go to prison - as a patient or a prisoner anyway. I didn't think to go find their library while I was there, visiting the hospital is about as mind numbing as many things that are on the outside of one's comfort zone. Mostly mind numbing because you don't have a function and someone you care about isn't doing well, but then this is where healing begins - isn't it?

Having had some interesting motorcycle mishaps while I was young, and being too close to excessive explosives exploding I have had my personal time in a hospital bed, but couldn't remember too much except that I was treated well and discharged and told not to do it again. I got an award of the Purple Hurt Award for the explosives trash buried in my leg, which hadn't slowed me down after my hearing returned, but they didn't like all that blood in the pant legs, not in OCS, just wasn't STRACT (and I can't remember what those letters are for, will have to Google it). Only the Urban dictionary knows...

Anyway the Hospital, like prison, takes those needing healing from across the population, and they respond best to proud professionals - which maybe why patients do better at the healing than the prisoners? Something to think about. The stress levels are awesome in the hospital, and I watched today some painful abuse by a patient to two doctors trying to help him - but they weren't doing it the way he wanted - duh, where did he go to med school? One of the recommendations for a future Marine was to make friends with the Corpsman, he is only Navy but he can save you when another Marine can't. I always liked getting the cooks and the mechanics on my side, too. Trained professionals do count in the worst situations - which gets me back to the fine professionals treating hundreds of people every day in our hospitals they don't get enough recognition.

Yeah, best get in good with the Medical Staff, they will help you beyond what you deserve but that old guy in the corner might not want to put up with your belly aching when added to his other problems - you could be the one thing he could fix, and he lived too long on a short fuze.

Who do you wanna be when you grow up?

I want to be just like Walt Kowalski, except for the beer and the bad language... just like him.

How one looks at things, does matter...

I have high blood pressure, and other problems with working with those that don't. I focus and destroy the current task and don't get between me and final victory, or I will wish I had brought something deadlier than my sour disposition to the danger area. There are many reasons they frown on my carrying a weapon at work - it seems to be a target rich environment and they know it.

I was visiting with Frank W. James and he mentioned the Seasonally Adjusted Disorder, anyone that has Wintered in Washington State knows that Gray Wet Misery is our definition of Hawaii, since that is all those fair islands send our way December through April. So after the white snows of Christmas, which stayed too long for politicians to escape the wrath of stranded voters, but made the ski areas fun, we got our Pineapple Express - warmer moist air, unloading rains in feet instead of inches. Day after day, drops in all shapes, sizes, patterns and effects on our lives beyond wet. Sure there was wind, howling, tossing waves, ferries and floating docks, tearing hats off and hairdos undone... lovely weather for snuggling up around a fire place and calling in sick. But the Governor says the State has no money, and we have a mission so we go to work.

Being old and wretched I sit alone inside myself on the ferry and no one notices, my laughing inside - for I often do. This particular morning was really rough, lots of rains, surging waves beating on the tossing dock, going down the long gangplank to the dock and then up the short one were an adventure most wanted to finish too soon, the wet weather gear was wrapped tight, the cord pulling hood flat around the head and very little flesh exposed to the salt water. So as a lady sits beside me and starts to unwrap I make a polite comment and a conversation starts (this is not normal Earl conduct - yes, she was a redhead). We jump right to her problem with a lose crown, temporary repair, future root canal (she is mature and has no problem with exposing imperfections) and I mention that I know she is happy she lives in America where she can get excellent dental care, even if they don't do it exactly right the first time. She agrees, and I go on to illustrate that how we look things does matter. She bites, and wants to know more.

So I kind of nod to the beaten looking people staggering on to the ferry through the fury, and I say 'smile', just look at them and smile. She does and I do and in the instant the feet are firmly on the deck, and as the eyes look our way the people smile back. They are victorious, on their way to the warmth inside and there are a couple of people smiling - things have to be getting better. We must have greeted the next forty folks that way, and I talked about the power of smiles, the first thing babies control that affects other humans (positively) around them, smiles. Good start to the morning for many those quick steps onto the boat with a positive greeting. The rest of my day was high speed and low drag -- how one looks at things does matter.

Don't slow me down, I have to catch up to ....

where I thought I should be by now. Two days of training means three days of mail to open and process, most of it will be ILLs ordered and new books and serial publications. There are patrons with information requests to fill, new reading and listening desires to express and email from above asking for my attention. Plus a meeting with the Associate in charge of Programs, the library being one of them. So I focus and attack and don't get in my way or try to distract me, I am driven. On Tuesday evening I will blow up when someone tells me that another librarian told him that she didn't have any problem getting what he wanted, I told him to tell her on Friday that I am incompetent - and if he doesn't tell her what I said -- then he will be failing to comply. I then returned to my mellow helpful self, with the next patron not trying to play me, I should have emptied the library of the ninety plus patrons with nothing to do and no where to go, but didn't. So I go home to dinner and my wife asks how it was, and I say busy, always lots to do.

I get hot soup, a salad and a nice light meal, I get to re-introduce myself to the little snow tiger trying to adopt our home as prime mouse hunting territory - that is some purr pouring out and I think about what went on at work.

One point in the two days stands out. I was at the computer ordering materials and typing as fast as I could without getting fingers out of pace and place, driven and focused. The library clerk from the chapel sticks his head inside the door and starts telling me his good news - his address and plan has been accepted and he will be getting out. He tells me all about it, and I am typing faster staying on the target, getting all the letters down in order, and he adds a bit to his story sharing his life. I stop, turn the turret of my tank and blow him out of the door. Well, not really, I looked straight at him and engaged in conversation, my goal is to have him leave and I get back to catching up with lack of progress (which isn't very fast). But the waves of joy in his face, posture and animation beat over me, this is one very happy inmate - he is going to get out. He has a job, a place to live and approval from the nameless folks that have kept him in prison so long. I share his happiness, it seems I am one of the few staff that he is taking the time to share his joy with, and having seen him on many of his darker days, this explosion of happiness is warm and powerful. He apologizes a couple of times from distracting me, bubbles happily some more, asks about my email address so he can contact me when he is out and successful - after I tell him I am in the phone book, can be located on the internet, Googled and such. He copies my whole name and goes and quietly sits the remainder of the hour out. I go back to work, trying to get faster trying to work harder - although tonight one of the inmates noticing my explosion tells me not to work so hard - I look at him and say I don't know any other way to work. I don't - I have been well broken into this pattern.

Still, the joy and warmth of that inmate and his excitement warms my memory, and I will have to, in my quieter moments, thank him for sharing that great feeling, the feeling of freedom and opportunity. You don't know what you have, until it is gone. I will have to thank him.

What a terrible way to start October, almost but...

I am being beaten down and feeling like a fool, totally unprofessional and a minor instance, then the inspectors from the Executive Team show up and inspect and note my further deficiencies. I am turning into a very nasty man, so the minor problems that I would deal with laughingly just grate and I start snarling. My best workers and favorite patrons back off seeing the warning signs -- the fools just keep coming. Then I start singing songs (mentally) from the Christmas selection we are practicing, and I start thinking of going home to the wife that cares about me when no one else does, and the weather is with me and the Trusty Triumph, and I talk to one of my former workers (a wrencher biker) about motorcycles - and I am a bit mellowed back out....

Dinner is excellent, coffee is great and doorbells ring. I have my ammunition from CMP (what is the reason the Post Office can't deliver guns and ammo? so FedEx rules?) all seven hundred plus rounds of 30 caliber, then my wife's ride shows up and they talk about how the flowers look on the porch and they depart for church activities, and the cute smooth talking soccer player drops off my cookie dough - I ask her how soccer is coming, she plays all the positions. The day is too short with all the good stuff. But I will look at the blogsphere, I am not impressed by television and I have plans for exercising, dry firing and unpacking the Ammunition!.

I leave a little trail of comments and then find something way too cool. Totally undeserved, but most welcome Tribute to some sound advice for all shooters - I didn't do the shooting; she has great coaching and natural perfections (color choice, just ask). Another great day, no matter who tries to make me lesser - without any government intervention I am still king for today! Although I am more likely comfortable as a Sergeant in Arms, an American Rifleman, and your good neighbor.

Isn't it nice not to shoot anyone today (or want to)?

One of only two humans on the planet Earth that I would shoot to death without question has raised his ugly head again. No one is giving me the shot and so I don't take it, but someone should, actually if I feel those two deserve my best shot, then they should have been taken out a long time ago - normally one doesn't know the name nor the history of the people one kills in war - doesn't that fact make it all so much more proper. You didn't really know who you just killed, only that it was okay at the time in the place.

These evil people aren't forces of nature, but certainly when compared to the worst natural disaster they have longer lasting effect, why don't enlightened civilizations destroy them before they become such? Well, they will die of their mortality, but never soon enough and you don't need their names - if they died suddenly you might have been part of a conspiracy and there are better things to do with our lives - give love a chance.

Just me and the Blues, babe, what's cookin' ?

Stopped on the way home to pick up a pistol and two hundred rounds of ammunition for the weekend familiarization. I also picked up a desire for that Springfield M1A Scout Squad on the wall rack behind the counter, too polite to ask to hold it. Bank those embers of desire before they flame up and burn my good sense away. I also picked up Dave Workman's Washington State Gun Rights and Responsibilities, reading is good for building knowledge and raising questions. So after dinner and listening listlessly to the news a bit (wanted to know about the weather tomorrow) I spend some time reading the manual that came with the fine American firearm; all the safety, all the mechanics, all the good advice and all the disclaiming of my foolishness with their fine product, and the warranty information. The ammunition is also made in America, George the Third in his goodness has restored my confidence, dignity and sense of responsibility. Oh, I hadn't lost those things before the benevolence of the government giving a little back, had I? Nope.

I also put on my spandex NRA 5.11 holster shirt from NRA, yes they embroidered their initials on "MY" shirt, ugh, not cool and it is made in Guatemala. But the shirt is great, makes me look like a superhero, will have to get a Superman or Batman T to go over it, and find some muscles and lose some spare tires, but I will be so cool. And the pistol fits either pocket, tight to the body and it is comfortable wearing it, all day and under a shirt or jacket a very nice option for concealed carry. I also check out the Kangaroo Holster and have one for the right and the left carry positions, very comfortable. I keep thinking I want to get to the position of forgetting that I have the pistol, unless I need it. Very much the way I look at my knives, I put them on when I dress and then forget about them until I need them. Range is coming up Saturday, if I get the mowing done Friday evening, at least the front yard.

Things that make me sad: the disarming of the 82nd Airborne Division for their Division Review on Pike's Field during All American Week. The Praetorian Guard is in charge, or as we know it THE SECRET SERVICE are intent on being the only armed force close to the President that could complete a coup d'etat. They read history, and hope you haven't. But then they aren't sent overseas unless with the politicians they protect or trying to find where all those bogus bills are coming from now. The 82nd Abn Div remains eighteen hours to wheels up to anywhere in the world (courtesy of the US Air Force). I trust the 82nd, always and All the Way!

The other thing that makes me sad is the number of ways I can become a felon by carrying a weapon that the Government feels they need to infringe upon my rights, sigh, for the children I am sure. They don't get it do they? or is it just me - I don't get it? If I had the time left I would seriously think about working to get rid of those laws that had to do with no crime except that we passed this rule and you broke it. Forty-two people carrying weapons, one or two commit a crime (assault with a weapon) and the forty others have broken a rule (carrying in a public library in Ohio?) but committed no crime (hurting people or property). I guess I will have to start speaking up more, making me a felon is not the purpose of government. And I thought I was such a quiet nice guy, anyway, Earl's rules for carrying guns still applies: too heavy to do often and I am never anxious for an opportunity to shoot someone trying to kill me - been there and done that, except in video games it is highly over rated - except for the survivin' another day, which has it's own sweetness. Love life, and get a love life.

Spring has really arrived...

Light fog yesterday, but the weather man has been promising Sunshine and warm weather, so I rode the trusty Triumph. There is little room to park, seems that the fair weather riders have brought their shiny steeds out to play and display. I like that, I see three bald eagles soaring and think that Harley-Davidson is correct to pick the eagle as their emblem - standing for made in America, and coming out only in the best of the weather, and beautiful to watch soar and roar, respectively.

Lots of wild life, two raccoons are digging along the beach at low tide, geese honking in our air, seagulls just soaring in the breeze and ravens flapping furiously trying to keep up with the food chain. Three deer were brousing in the apartment complex, must not be hunting season in town. The smallest of birds seem to be engaged in building nests in hard to reach places. It is Springtime and feels like it, finally.

Library's last open day for the week, Thursday. Today I have to be in Tumwater to help present the ILS blog site and concept to the Secretary of State, it isn't quite ready for prime time - being our public face, for the folks that don't get out much (Institutional Library Services), we would like to share our best and encourage more come in to work with us. Lonely loves company.

I had a normal day at the office, except one patron that started to talk about his family history - which I had helped him research once - and he started to get loud and offended by the other inmates, who were teasing him. When he went into shouting foul language I stopped him, told him not to do that, and when he started to get louder and defensive with me I told him to go out of the library - now. He didn't go and tried talking me down and I started looking for the amber button on my radio as I reinforced that he had to leave now, and I was not happy that I was going to have to call the correction officers to escort him out. He caught that, and said he was going and left. If the officers had come he would have gone to F-unit for failing to comply with my order. The other inmates told me that I had shown real patience - I thought I was one step behind during the incident. He was from lower A unit, which are the inmates that are under mental health care and often on medications for their particular problems. I will have to do better.

The ride home was great, dinner was salmon and my smiling wife, I check the blogs and find folks going to Louisville, and I think of a friend that lives there now - hope she is well. All the news that is fit to print from the gun bloggers and the NRA this coming week, I will be reading when not riding and cutting my growing grass and bettering the world that I live and love in.

Bit by Alligator, swamp still flooded and nasty...

I lost the battle today, the war is over. Mission last Bureaucracy always, sigh. Tomorrow I will talk to my liaison about how impotent I am, no longer able to get a couple bins of books up to F-unit and back. They did make me take down the chin up bar in the library that the guys and I were having fun improving our strength on - seems one could imagine someone falling off and hurting one self, and a library is not a gymnasium (although they have more in common than I think).

I have a heart problem, I care too much, and I am a State employee and shouldn't care at all - I am not an elected official. My job is to do what is required, not to inovate, not to assume, presume, nor to think of solutions. If it is broken, just report it, don't try to fix it. I do have a problem. If the mission weren't so important I think I would take that boring eight hour day at the Public Library.

I was wondering at my three neophytes, they still aren't working hard enough, nor fast enough and certainly not smart enough. But they are trying.. they try me all day long. I was telling one of them about something he needed to correct, and he said I never say anything good about his work, which I am sure isn't correct, I always point out good things, little victories are important in life and I do point them out. Then another one wandered away from where I wanted him to work, and he has at least sixty reference books to become familiar with, but he doesn't see that as useful, yet. But the one that got my blood boiling was the smartest of the three, the mature and sure of his importance one - he interrupted my work flow because he couldn't help a customer with shipping charges from JC Penny. He told me that both catalogs didn't have the data for shipping cost, guessing that someone had ripped them out. So I looked at both catalogs after looking in the back for the extras - which I didn't find - the pages with ordering instructions to include the shipping costs were in both catalogs and I showed the customer, and yelled - LOUDLY - at the inmate library clerk, "I need competence, I don't need you to tell me that something is beyond your ability to find it!" Not good form, old chap, expecting someone that could be caught, tried and covicted of a crime to be competent. Not good form at all.

I was upset by all those alligators and the rising waters, but we knocked out a lot of work today. We did pull and check out to F-unit, sixty seven items - we just aren't delivering. I did link and put into the collection sixty-five items, some purchased and sent to us and the others donated, which means my experienced hard working and mostly quiet clerk prepared, stripped and stamped, covered in mylar, or book taped the spines over the call numbers he typed up -- those same books. While he and I processed out and in ILLs, and did requests for more ILLs, and accounted for some missing so far. And the overdues are done and out in circulation to the patrons, with a new clerk learning that job, a bit. Lots accomplished.

Well, I did talk to some customers, help find some stuff, and made a fool of self - another completely good day at the prison library. So when I check my Lotto ticket and find I am the big winner, should I quit and allow someone better to take that cushy job? Don't know, but the motorcycle ride home was fun, something new to work on showed up, and I, like always when I ride and feel like I am flying, I was smiling broadly... very.

Back on to my hamster wheel!

I only took five days off in vacation, ABC World News reports that 468 million days of American's vacation aren't taken each year - fear of being found un-essential? Perhaps.

I looked forward to opening the library and getting things straight. New books and supplies had come in, there were two large book return bins to empty and check in and shelve. Six pages of emails to go through, the Valentine's Day foolishness was amazing viewed in one day with the real work wrapped around it.

Seems my boss fired one of my workers - he left and she just wanted to beat someone up. Down to two untrained and one brown guy she endured. I do remember that I was the last staff to chase off two workers - I must be too demanding and pride does get in the way, doesn't it?

But the library was open, I have started on some of the piles of stuff not done and the day was great for motorcycle riding, although I had the minivan. Tomorrow more hard work, some coordination with my boss and find out what she wants done next, but the library will be open and it will be functioning on three inmate library clerks until the latest ripple in my harmony with the Universe is corrected and smoothed out again. Focus on the positive, there are staff from the Western facilities working in the Eastern facilities because we haven't hired enough replacements and the pace is grueling and the rewards for doing a good job are only internal. The bigger Washington State Library is focused on the Legislative session, but not for the Institutional Library Services. The forgotten few, I keep thinking of those Foreign Legion outposts in desert Africa - no one knew their names.

My cold and sinus problem calls for some more liquid and lots of sleep and it is only six and a half hours until I have to wake for the next work day .... spin that wheel a little faster will you?