Author Archives: Tom E. Carsley

I wonder…

Hmmm, I wonder what will happen when a culture that has been made afraid of its traditions, guns, speaking up, standing up, and making a stand because anyone who does will be attacked and jailed. A society that has been made afraid of its government and what has become a ruling class. A society that has been torn apart and put at each others throats for trivial slights and offenses against each other. A society that from cradle-to-grave is being taught to only trust in government to make all their decisions in life and defense. Even while the same government opens the country’s borders to all comers from the 3rd World and refuses to name the marching toward conquest Enemy as an enemy. A society that is disarmed and unable to defend themselves from petty thieves or grand politicians schemes of self-serving grandeur—

Comes into direct contact with…

—Another society where the people have been taught from cradle-to-grave to hate all Outsiders. To demand that all other people and religions are to bow down and obey- to submit. A society where death is the way to paradise and that killing non-believers is justified. Anyone who speaks out is to die. Anyone else who stands in their way is to be massacred. There is to be no quarter until all are conquered. A society that worships guns, death, killing, murder in the name of their cause for World Domination.

What would happen if such a thing were to ever happen?

Hmmm…

Parenting (citizen) and Kids (government) Story

A little story about parenting: Imagine: Parents have told their kids that they had better clean their room or they don’t get any ice cream. Instead of cleaning the kids making it messier, thinking that they will PUNISH the parents- that the they parents will break and give in. How dare the parents deny ice cream? Parents still say no. So the kids smear the walls with feces, dump out the drawers, tear everything from the closet. The kids invite their friends over. Other kids that raid the cabinets and refrigerator. Taking whatever they want without asking or replacing. The parents still say ,”NO, you cannot have ice cream! Look at the mess you’re making! Someone HAS GO TO CLEAN this disaster up! Your friends have got to go to their own home and clean their own messes up!” The kids, while standing in the middle of the room, throw garbage, clothes, feces, hamsters, and pet chihuahua in the air say, “OK, give us the ice cream FIRST, THEN we’ll clean up this mess. WE PROMISE! If you don’t accept our terms: WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE and it means you HATE us. You hate my friends! WHY do you have all these RULES?!?” The parents in weakness and at their wits end with seeing the mess and destruction, wanting to do anything to have all this cleaned up and back the way it was, relent, “Okay, okay, come on and have the ice cream. But you had better come back upstairs and get this cleaned up.” “Sure, mom. Sure Dad,” the kids say, as they look at each other grinning behind the parents back as they walk down the hall to the kitchen, giving each other a wink and a nod. There will always be ice cream, cookies, movies, games- wants and needs that are considered more important than the REAL WORK that needs getting done. It’s never in the interest of the kids to clean up their mess, only the getting of what they WANT that matters to them. They know that one day they will be gone and it will be SOMEONE ELSE’S job to take care of all the trouble they created. That room will never cleaned and certainly will never be the same again.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how our government is run.

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Tom can be found on Facebook

and as the author of LONE WOLF, SUCKER PUNCHED, and BLOOD OF PATRIOTS – BLOOD OF TYRANTS on AMAZON

‘The Bureaucrat-Functionary Principle.’

Why aren’t there thousands of Federal Employees  from the IRS and DOJ being pink-slipped or jailed for corruption and/or abuse of power?

Well, it is an extension of the ‘Peter Principle.’ Under the PP theory a person is promoted to their highest level of incompetence where not being able to advance to a next promotion due to lack of ability they will remain in place until quit, fired, retire.

Now, for the government I came up with ‘The Bureaucrat-Functionary Principle.’ It is simply that no one will ever get fired and no matter the blatant lack of ability, skill, ethics or number of performance failures that they will continue to receive promotions, bonuses, backing of peers and awards until they retire rich and living off a taxpayer funded pension until the day they die.

Holes: A mother’s love of son and country

“Doc, send my uniform to my mom. She’ll fix ‘em for me,” once said, was all the breathe that young soldier had left in him.

Major Daniels honored that soldier’s last request. He and a sergeant removed the uniform in silence. They set the pants and top across chair backs to let the blood dry out. It would take some time to let that much of a soak be ready for sending to the soldier’s mother.

No one wanted to believe in war. So untouched as the country was by it for so long. Sure, soldiers came home from war all the time. Plenty of conflicts and fighting, over there. But in the streets and towns of America, no, who would have thought so?

But it happened anyway. While plucking at the rose petals of freedom, the Federals had finally grasped a thorn. Once orders were given to use armed drones on citizens within the States all hell broke loose.

There were minor militias in the field across the country for both sides. Federal forces were of course the better armed and trained, in the beginning anyway. Militia backup for the federals were nothing but untrained, undisciplined thugs from the streets, looking to set their wrath upon anyone who got in the way. More in it for the pillaging ‘pay-back’ as they had been told all their lives they were due than any sense of preserving the union or patriotism. Blood was the currency.

In the Rebel ranks, all walks of life were there. Young, old. Rich, poor. Men and women. Everyone who knew what was at stake turned out in some way or another. Still, they were outnumbered. A war against them, generations in the planning had been let loose. From private to general though among the Rebel ranks, all knew it was a fight of winner-takes-all. Knowing what was at stake steeled spines as well as heated blood with courage enough to stand against those lopsided odds.

Her son’s funeral was a quiet affair. So many of her family were supports of the Federals, sending hateful letters to the mourning mother of how glad they were that her boy was dead: He was so stupid for fighting. Another brainwashed extremist as far as they were concerned, good riddance.

Those who weren’t there that loved the boy were already gone to fight or dead. As for the rest of the people who had known that young soldier, they didn’t have the time to worry about what was going on or to come to his funeral. No matter what happened those people didn’t care one way or the other, indifferent to anything other than what was on TV. As far as those kinds of people were concerned their lives were static. Nothing ever changed or would. Blissful indifference.

She stood there with her husband. He stood holding her, solid as a rock. Only his eyes told of the pain and anger ravaging within. Together the soldier’s parents stood over him, even after the grave was filled in and the workers left.

In the morning her husband left with a kiss. Rifle slung over his shoulder and a bag in hand. For a moment he stood looking back at his wife, his home of so many years. At the flag hung from his porch. Meeting his wife’s eyes- husband and wife-father and mother- both knew exactly what had to be done and were set about doing it.

Several days later a paper wrapped package came to her in the mail. Letters full of hate still came but had become a trickle. To each of those kinds of letters received she sent notes in response, notes of forgiveness. She did not return to those senders back their hate, but love instead. No easy task. She let her faith guide her pen strokes.

Feeling the softness beneath the paper wrapping she knew what was wrapped inside. Over the last year she had gotten several like it. Her son would send back uniforms and other things that needed to be mended. Some things were hard to come by anymore so an old fashioned approach was needed. Needle and thread. Frugality.

It was not her son’s handwriting on the paper she stared at from her chair at the dining room table. With great care she opened her last package of her son. She took up the uniform and sought the places to be mended.

Her heart was hard yet her fingers did their work. Threading the needle. Stitch by stitch. Her sons dried blood stained the fabric where she closed up holes. Bullet holes. Such small things.

She pricked a finger while at the last hole. One that would have been near to her son’s heart. She pressed the fingertip into the shirts stain, mixing hers and his together.

Laying out the clothes across her bed she went in to take a shower. There with the water in her face she cried aloud. Letter the spray wash away her tears as fast as they came. All that was held back against her heart she let free.

In the morning she stepped down her porch and walked to her car. She turned to look back, standing for a moment. She looked at the home she had lived for so many years. At the flag hanging from her porch. To the window upstairs that had been her son’s bedroom. A rifle slung over her shoulder and a uniform stained crimson in places scarred by careful stitches. She knew what needed to be done, and set about doing it.

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Tom is an erratic contributor to CDN. Former U.S. Army Signal Corps soldier, outspoken future Re-Education Camp intern #7-2521, world traveler, combat veteran and Author of the new books Lone WolfSucker Punched, dystopian near future America novels, and One Tough Truck (a War Story) available at Amazon.com.

 

 

I had a dream. About a Jackbooted Beauty

This morning I had a dream. About a jackbooted beauty.

In the dream I was on a train. An old fashioned passenger car, something like the old steamer engines pulled. Inside the car were many other passengers of higher station than me, Diplomats, Advisors, and Politicians.

Along both the sides of the car were couches and private curtained areas. Down the middle were picnic bench-like seats separated at lengths with enough space for people to walk through to either side as they wished. I was sitting at the end of one such section crammed against two aristocratic looking men. The tables were all full and seats were rare.

“I don’t know what the Democrats could be planning with the Middle East,” one said to the other.

“What could you mean? They do not have a plan. The region is tearing itself apart on its own. No one plans such things,” the other answered.

“Israel cannot stand alone there. Without her the party will lose support back home. Someone needs to step in and take control of the situation,” the first man spoke.

Sounding more like two men thinking out loud than in a conversation with each other.

Both men were dressed in the style of the 1910’s. Heavy woolen clothes marked with medals and sashes. The man closest to me was bald with a head spotted by brown freckles. The other man had slicked back brown hair and a well trimmed proud mustache.

They went on in their detached conversation and I had no other choice but to listen until finally I rose up from my seat and looked down at the bald man and said, “I could tell you what the hell is going on but I am just a lay-person what the hell can I have to say that matters at all to you people, right.”

The two men looked at each other and the bald one spoke to me, to my back anyway. In my passion of anger I had turned away from them once I had spoken my peace. So sure that such elite men would have no time for a regular person such as me, dressed in a plain cotton shirt, cheap ill-fitted pants held up with suspenders.

“Come sit down. Tell us what you think,” the bald man said to me. He even stood up and put a hand on my shoulder to encourage my turning back and sitting. His voice was calm. His slick haired acquaintance looked both amused and disgusted at the thought of having me speak and him listening.

I did sit down and reluctance to bother. Elitists did not listen to the people below them. No in the elite minds of the world they were the only ones to speak, the rest of us were to listen and obey.

“You want to know what the plan is,” I asked the bald man looking him in the eyes then giving his friend a glance that looked away as if bored already, “the plan is to let Israel die and the Middle East catch on fire for no other reason than pursuit of power.”

Already some people who had heard my first words people were moving away. Baldy was still looking back at me unwavering and seeming earnest in wanting to hear what I had to say.

“What better way to bring about the ruin of a great nation than to wear down its people until they welcome any change,” I asked but did not wait for an answer, “Why would it be in the world’s interest to tear down Egypt? To bring down Mubarak and remove an ally?”

“He had to go because he was a dictator,” the bald man interrupted.

“He was a moderate and an ally. Our militaries trained together and the country was stable. I have been there, have you? Then Libya. What was Libya doing that needed to have revolution backed by the Oval Office? Kaddafi was not doing anything, again the country was stable and after 9/11 Kaddafi swore off his nuclear program. What was the threat from him, another dictator he was, but at least a calm one.

“Meanwhile the student protests in Iran go ignored. In Syria the streets are running with the blood of her citizens at the hands of a hard-line dictator. Not a peep is made to stop the killing from the White House. The Party wants murderous dictators to rule that region. How else to enact revolutionary uprisings and all out warfare? Keep the hatreds of the area smoldering until reaching a flash-point.”

As I spoke more seats become available at the bench I was at. Curtains closed around couches here and there. For many, the ideas I was speaking are to be ignored. Yet my new found bald friend still seems to be listening.

“You said Israel cannot be left to stand alone,” nodding to the slick haired guy, “Sure, the Party can let that little country can be left to stand alone to be overrun by ‘Allah Akbar’ screaming enraged Muslims who have been taught from birth to exterminate the Jews for the love of Allah. That all the world’s problems are because of the Jews and that once they are all dead everything will be perfect. We have a similar version of that storyline between two demographics in the United States,” more curtains closed at those words, “The Democrat Party has no fear in Israel being wiped away from the world as American Jewish are so entrenched in the Party they would never vote any other way than for Democrats. Hell, many segments of those following the Party would celebrate the genocide of the Jewish people of Israel as they too believe Jews to be evil and to blame. Afterwards, if it should ever happen, both Jews and their jubilant in the destruction of Israeli counterparts will stand side-by-side at a polling station and vote for the Party”

By then the train car could have been empty. About half of the other passengers had hidden themselves away. Those people not concealed where either pretending not to be hearing or were looking in silence at me.

A woman came in with two children, boys about nine and ten years old. While the kids made their way about the car laughing and talking their mother came and sat next to the bald man, giving him a kiss. The slick haired friend had left his seat at some point in my speech without my even noticing so intent I was in having my say since finally having been asked.

“My wife,” he said in introductions between us. She was a gorgeous woman with short cropped black hair and olive skin. She wore some gold around her neck that draped in contrast to a well fitted black conservative yet casual dress that went past her knees. She gave off an impression of being happy and content while making herself at home at the bench, as if she had lived there all her life. She smiled at me and I went on.

“But you want to know what the plan is,” I asked resetting the conversation, “the plan has been going on for a long time. To destroy America’s religions through open and active hostilities as well as infiltrate the message of God in the churches to fit the narrative of the government. Uproot the traditions of the family, make government the mother and father. Remove fathers all together and hand out rewards for doing so. Absolve citizens of personal responsibility over their lives. Every bad-deed committed by a person can be traced back to some manufactured slight against them in the past. Destroy the private sector middle class and replace it with a contrived government one. Take over education not to teach but to indoctrinate students, even to the point of turning them against their parents. ”

I paused to look around. Those people who were left out in the open were staring right at me. Some faces had a non to happy look on them. No sense in stopping then, I was on a roll. As I got my breath and was about to start again the two boys that had come in with the Cleopatra-like beauty began going to the front of the train car. I stopped and watched the boys while everyone paid attention to me.

The oldest boy reached for the door set into the trains’ front and pulled the doors lever set in its middle. The door didn’t open, it was no longer there. There was no other train car in front of ours or an engine to be seen. There was nothing to see. A blank white standing rectangle was all to be seen. No light existed or shown. It was simply. Nothing.

Stepped off into the nothing the boys went without a peep either from them of anyone in the car. Not even their parents. Their mother looked at her husband and told him to go get the boys, a request he ignored so both sat in their seats. Looking back at me they expected me to go on so I did.

“Once the country is under attack from within it will be necessary to begin turning the people against each other. No matter how light the grievance it must be exploded and amplified. Tear down all unity and patriotism. Have everyone looking out for themselves and screw everyone else,” I looked over the people looking back at me. Certain that with them being the elite they would understand that point completely, “next the Party has but one institution to destroy, the Military.

“Through political correct principles service members will be taught that it is better for them to die than to kill their enemy. An enemy who is embraced by the Commander in Chief in front of the soldiers sent to fight. Words of encouragement from the Commander in the Oval Office are reserved for the militants and followers of death and martyrdom. Unity will be destroyed within the branches by forcing political ideals into military doctrine. Instead of serving the Constitution the military will be forced to serve the Party. Soldiers who have pride, patriotism, love of country and service will be forced to leave military service and others will be discouraged from joining.

“How does the Party keep good men and women from serving in the last bastion of American pride,” I asked looking around. Turning in my seat I faced the people behind me who had been breathing down my neck, “you deploy those soldiers over and over until they don’t re-enlist. You give them more wars that have no definition of goals and when defending themselves soldiers are slandered and punished by both their leaders who sent them and the Party’s media lap dogs. Cut benefits and retirement pay. Make it easier to collect government welfare than to apply for aid from Veterans Affairs for wounds both physical and mental incurred during combat operations,” making my right hand into a fist I pushed it hard, twisting back and forth into the palm of my left, “you grind and grind away at the military until no one wants to join. And when very few do with the right traditional values of the once proud organization the Party fills the ranks with who it wants to have armed to the teeth with state of the art killing equipment.”

By that point even the bald man had left for some other place to sit. His wife however had stayed and was staring at me hard with bright eyes and a predator’s visage. She moved toward me. I had to lean back in against the bench top at her advancement. Partially straddling me she looked down into my eyes. Her black hair hung toward my face but it was those eyes I wondered about as well as those longer and sharper canines grinning down at me.

“Tell your story, it doesn’t matter even the slightest,” she began saying as she, like a creature of great agility slid back to her place on the bench seat, “We have been at work for a much longer time than you will ever know and as you can see by looking around; no one is paying you any attention other than me,” of which she spoke true. Not another person was listening or caring and had gone from hiding away from my speech to going on about whatever distraction they pursued.

“After all that what is to happen next,” she asked taunting me.

“When everything has been put into place, the pillars of American society pulled down. The bonds that bind America together have been cut and neighbor has been set against neighbor,” looking around the car away from her bright eyes that seemed hold unspeakable evil lit behind them no one was watching the engagement between her and me, “then the jackboots of the Party come marching in to crush the throat of freedom. Everything else, even if it means creating World War Three coming across the globe spread from the Middle East, every event will be but a means to an end. Freedoms end. Global Dictatorship ruling human beings beginning.”

With those final words of mine from behind I was grabbed at the shoulders and pushed to the floor. A black leather boot that ran tight against the woman’s calf was pushed down over my neck while strong arms held me from getting up. My blood and air were cut off and my vision was shrinking as if I was falling down a well. Before I woke up from that dream the last words from the woman in black were, “you’re too late and of no importance.”

Then I woke up.

####

Tom is an erratic contributor to CDN. Former U.S. Army Signal Corps soldier, outspoken future Re-Education Camp intern #7-2521, world traveler, combat veteran and Author of the new books Lone WolfSucker Punched, dystopian near future America novels, and One Tough Truck (a War Story) available at Amazon.com.

“A creative mind does nothing to another mind — except offer it material to digest, which the other mind may digest or not, as it pleases.” –Ayn Rand

 

The Mob now rules Zimmerman’s fate

 

There is a reason that this country was founded as a Republic and not a pure Democracy.

The Mob.

When the loudest voices get what they want Justice be damned, there is The Mob.

When Organizations have Tried and Convicted outside of the Courts of Law, there is The Mob waiting with a noose in hand under the local hanging tree for the man pulled from his home. As the New Black Panther Party has done as they take on the action of handing out “Wanted: Dead or Alive” posters with Zimmerman as the hunted.

When Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, the Reverends of God’s word so they claim, preach that Zimmerman must be punished, even before Trial by his Peers, they have become not ministers of Gospel but active flame fanners of The Mob.

When all media is turned against a man to demand his arrest and push the State to prosecute a man who has yet to be charged and given a chance to defend himself, there is The Mob screaming threats of, “No justice, no Peace. There will be retaliation,” as Louse Farrakhan, leader of the ethnocentric Nation of Islam has tweeted.

If The Mob does not get the blood it requires it will take that and more from wherever it can.

When the day came that the President himself sided with The Mob before a man has his Constitutional right to a day in Court, the Office of the Presidency joined The Mob.

I can believe the man is guilty without ever giving up the concept of his Rights. Just as I believe there was no justice for Caylee Anthony or Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ronald Goldman but never would I join The Mob. Each person accused in those cases had their day in court and were found not guilty. Even if I do not agree that does not mean I take justice into my own hands and play like it’s the Wild West. Ask Richard Jewel what it’s like to have The Mob on your tail.

I will not presume to find the man guilty based on evidence presented to me through a media I have problems with finding as a truthful organization to begin with. Just as well I will not be intimidated by The Mob to call for a man’s death before his day in court and convicted.

Right now in America The Mob has the biggest loudspeaker it has ever been granted, the Oval Office, and a another life and several others if The Mob gets its way, may be lost as well as all sense of true Justice because of that.

George Zimmerman did shoot Trayvon Martin that is a known fact. All the rest is for Due Process in a Court of Law. All the rest happening on the outside is nothing more than looking for a Lynching by The Mob.

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Tom is an erratic contributor to CDN. Former U.S. Army Signal Corps soldier, outspoken future Re-Education Camp intern #7-2521, world traveler, combat veteran and Author of the new book Sucker Punched, a dystopian near future America novel available at Amazon.com.

“A creative mind does nothing to another mind — except offer it material to digest, which the other mind may digest or not, as it pleases.” –Ayn Rand

Puerto Rico does have a language barrier

Rick Santorum said recently that Puerto Rico should put emphasis on learning English, and he has been criticized for it. I see his critics as either political in nature or as new-jerk political correctness. There are underlying social issues unique of Puerto Rico and political party affiliations there that need to be known before even beginning to make any assumptions. What was a basic truth telling on Santorum’s part, whether it was intentional or not I have no way of knowing, becomes an opportunity to shed some light on a place that many Americans don’t even know is a part of our country.

Puerto Rico is a place where three political parties trade blows and seats in their government. One Party is for statehood, another for staying the same, the last for independence. No matter which party is in control of the governor’s seat doesn’t really matter because the government is actually an aristocracy disguised as a democracy as most Latin governments are. People running the island deal in pay-to-play schemes, bribery to open businesses and a very unfriendly attitude toward doing anything that doesn’t benefit them directly in either votes or graft. Yes, I’m still talking about Puerto Rico’s government and not D.C. All that is left for a company wanting to do business on the island is the fact that there are millions of unemployed people who will work for minimum wage. Even a degree doesn’t help much in that extreme environment. Politicians there want to keep it that way and play the usual mind games of: Our culture, Our heritage, and those evil Gringos want to make you like them.

The islands poverty level is higher than in the States. Few jobs and many people creates a trapped population that is forced to take what job presents itself for whatever pay is offered. I met people that had jobs for nearly twenty years and still had not broken $10.00 an hour. The elementary school system looks like something out of the 1950’s and college students spend more time protesting and dressing up as Che Guevara than learning.

People in Puerto Rico are openly proud of their heritage and there is nothing wrong with that at all, though not to the extremes that people of Puerto Rican heritage that have never been to the island yet have a flag on everything they own here stateside. I always felt welcome by the people while living there and enjoyed several friendships. I recommend visiting Guavate for music and spit roasted pig. Try the morcilla but don’t ask what it is before biting into it. Only encounters with members of the separatist party were ever negative. Much the same as dealing with any of our own rabid Blame America liberals.

When my son’s school had celebrations, all aspects of the islands history were reflected, including the slavery part. There are not the same attitudes as there are here in the U.S. forbidding the mention of slavery except for when it is profitable. As far as I know, there are no poverty pimps counterparts such as Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson on the island. My son was lucky enough to be admitted to the new School of San Juan which put emphasis on teaching students English much more than the lip service the regular school system there does.

There are leaders in Puerto Rico like San Juan’s Mayor Jorge Santini, who pushed for my son’s schools creation, who understand that the future of Puerto Rico is not only holding onto their Spanish based heritage, of which no one is telling them to abandon, but to also see that success of all is based on open opportunity to advance. Any real future for the islands people is in not being a member of a large trapped labor pool of people who have no other options other than to accept what they have at hand.

Many people I talked while I lived and worked in Puerto Rico were tired and worn out. All wanted a better life; to be able to make more money, have a better job. No one I talked to was ever happy about the fate of which they had been born into. When I suggested that they move to the states because as legal citizens they can pick up and go and enter without a passport or visa, the answer was always the same.

     “I need to learn better English.”

I told them then to learn and go. Or go and learn. I told them if so many illegal aliens could go and not speak a word of English then anyone could do it. I recommended Orlando as a start point due to the Puerto Rican community there and the fact that Puerto Ricans help each other. No sudden loss of community connections that Puerto Ricans have and of which I as an American don’t see much of in our own culture. There were many excuses made not to learn, “it’s the culture,” being the most common.

So, my own view as a person that has lived, worked and have been married to the island for 11 years and being the political junkie that I am had come to this conclusion, well before Santorum ever uttered his mouthful of words  about Puerto Rico’s need to learn English.

By not learning English the islands inhabitants trap themselves on a 100×35 mile piece of land disconnected from forty-eight nearby states worth of opportunity. Only the bridge of language needs to be built to allow opportunity-seeking people to roam free.

All that other political nonsense is nothing more than status-quo pandering and keeping people to scared or angry to take that ever important first step for a new way of life. I know that everyone calling themselves a conservative will agree that the first move in raising people up is the open doors of opportunity to pursue ones desire for success.

Encouraging rather than polarizing an ability to speak, read and write in English is the right way to go.

####

Companion piece: http://conservativedailynews.com/2011/09/safety-nets-ultimatly-fail-society/

Tom is an erratic contributor to CDN. Former U.S. Army Signal Corps soldier, outspoken future Re-Education Camp intern #7-2521, world traveler, combat veteran and Author of the new book Sucker Punched, a dystopian near future America novel available at Amazon.com. Tom Can Be found @ Twitter Facebook, Blog.

“A creative mind does nothing to another mind — except offer it material to digest, which the other mind may digest or not, as it pleases.” –Ayn Rand

Being poor is an excuse for dropping out of HS

(I chose Alaska just because they turned out to have the highest dropout rate for the year presented. The year before it was Arizona with 8.5%. And Puerto Rico as the poorest territory of the U.S.)

Poverty Levels living below poverty standards:
48.2% Puerto Rico.
9.4% for Alaska.

Family Incomes:

$16,543 for Puerto Rico
$59,036 for Alaska
(Fact finder U.S. Census, 2000)

School year 2003-04 grades 9-12, High School data:
1.0%, 165,527 students, 1,599 dropped out. Puerto Rico.
7.0%, 40,238 students, 2,814 dropped out. Alaska.
(National center for education statistics, 2007)
Unemployment rates:
Sept. 11.7% in Puerto Rico (U.S. Bureau of labor, 2008)
Sept 6.8% in Alaska (U.S. Bureau of labor, 2008)
Conclusion:
Poverty has nothing to do with many of the preconceived ideas that we have. The ability to finish school and all the benefits of an education must have another driving force.
As Puerto Rico does not have the social safety nets that are present in the US, there is no choice but to drive forward.
Also the heavy competition for the few jobs creates an environment in which only the people with the qualifications are going to get possession of the better paying jobs.
I believe it is the social structures that form and demand that people stand up in the place of governmental interception.
It is about upbringing, social pressures to stay down, and personal desire to pursue rather than blame.
There is an old saying, “Crabs in a bucket can escape from the bucket one at a time, but instead of doing that they pull each other down whenever one gets close to escaping.”
For me the riding the train of being “left behind” is just one more excuse for bad parenting and the social idea that it is the governments’ job to fix all wrongs.
Fact finder U.S. Census. (2000). Retrieved Oct 30, 2008, from U.S. poverty levels: http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/GCTTable?_bm=y&-geo_id=01000US&-_box_head_nbr=GCT-P14&-ds_name=DEC_2000_SF3_U&-format=US-9
National center for education statistics. (2007). Retrieved Oct 30, 2008, from Event drop out rates: http://www.cpec.ca.gov/CompleteReports/ExternalDocuments/Event_Dropout_Rates_Grades912_2002_2004.pdf
U.S. Bureau of labor. (2008, Sept). Retrieved 10 30, 2008, from Economy at a glance: Puerto Rico: http://www.bls.gov/eag/eag.pr.htm
U.S. Bureau of labor. (2008, Sept). Retrieved 10 30, 2008, from Economy at a glance: http://www.bls.gov/eag/eag.ak.htm

All I needed to learn happened at Lake Cannon

Many of my summers growing up were spent in and around a small patch of beach on Lake Cannon in Winter Haven, Florida, or is it in Auburndale? Really cannot remember where the city limits exchanged, either way it is right off Havendale Boulevard behind the Boys Club.

Anyway, when I think of the best times in my -free to explore alone years- as a kid everything surrounding Lake Cannon, including the canals that fed drainage down into the lake, lies along in the realm of fantasy as compared to imprisonment many kids must face today. I did everything there all summer long whenever we lived close, either alone, with my brother, or with friends. No adults needed or wanted. Being at home was torture and being told “if you come in the house one more time you’re gonna stay in,” was a threat to be taken serious and avoided at all costs. Other than Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, Tarzan, and Creature Features hosted by Dr. Paul Bearer I never wanted to be in the house, er trailer.

So on one of my younger days expedition to the small parcel of sand that was the Lake Cannon beach, was as in it no longer exists. Cooling off in the emerald green waves that were splashing up around my sand works. Larger waves from boat wakes would take out walls and buildings.

On that day there were two life guards, one woman one young guy. Both were of course much older than I was at the time. In the water were just me and another kid that I didn’t know. He was probably a year or so older than me. Think I was about nine or ten that summer.

While I played in the sand just a few feet in front of where the life guards were sitting talking that kid stayed out wading in the water. For some reason I don’t know why, maybe he was bored, the kid started teasing me, trash talking as it is today, stomping on what I was building; typical bully-at-the-beach behavior.
The life guards were telling me to ignore him. I was a fixture to that lake back then so they knew me as a good kid never starting trouble, just always came to play and enjoy the lake.

So I did what I was told, not that it helped and maybe he felt encouraged that I was taking it and not doing anything to stop him.

Until he found himself lying on his back in the lakes shallows with me on top trying to knock his teeth out. Life guards of course intervened which really was no big deal. The kid was sent off the beach and I went back to doing what I was doing in the sand.

Now, like most people I can take a lot before having to finally say enough is enough and strike back, but not with the intention to do damage; but to send a message to our tormentors: That a price will be paid for continued abuse. We can all take only so much. We will punish those meddling in our lives, then once the fight is over, continue on.

Not a popular view for a college paper on Gun Control

Hand guns. What are they good for in this world? It may seem like an easy answer but in reality the history and facts of this case are very complicated and emotionally charged. In a protectionist society it is easy to think that only law enforcement should have guns. That would be fine if everyone obeyed the laws and there were no outside dangers to consider. However in the world we live in, not just the United States, there are many dangers that an individual should always have the ability to protect one’s self from. Our basic right to be able to defend ourselves should never be in doubt.
A common one line joke, “gun control means never missing what you’re aiming at.” While this is a little joke with undertones of violence, it is truly an accurate way to describe the discipline needed when handling firearms. Like any tool that we have in civilization it is a tool that must be thoroughly trained in the operation, safety, and maintenance before handling.
At no time should a loaded firearm be handled in an unsafe manner and even one thought to be unloaded should be treated as if it has bullets in it. Many people have been seriously injured or killed believing that a weapon was unloaded. At the very least a person will receive a scare when an unexpected round suddenly fires from an “unloaded weapon.” “Oh, it’s not loaded,” are famous last words.
Someone expecting to handle a firearm should become familiar with the firing mechanism and be able to inspect the weapon for flaws that may prove to be endangering. One should also be in the practice of assembly, disassembly, and the cleaning of a gun as even what may seem as a small amount of dirt of built up carbon can create serious malfunctions.
Many weapons now come with a myriad of safety features and devices to attach to maintain that no one, like children for instance, are able to handle the gun if they should gain access to it, and be able to fire it. Knowing what is available for your gun of choice and using it may save your life or the life of someone you care about. For instance a Bersa Thunder handgun comes with both a safety tab and also a key that can lock out the trigger when not in active use. And of course no weapon should ever be stored loaded.
In regards to the National Rifle Association’s Eddie Eagle children’s training program for gun use. It can be argued and sustained that at no times should children be allowed to handle firearms. No amount of training or perceived maturity should be used in “treating children as miniature adults,” (Snapp, Willis, Hardy. 2002), and allow them to have hand guns. There should be no hurry at all to put the power of life and death in the hands of children. Howard (2005) states that in a survey of 230 elementary school parents, 22% reported guns in the home and 85% of those reported do not practice safe storage, even in the face of over 400 child deaths annually in the United States. There is no excuse for these deaths if they happen in a home. There is too much attention placed on these kinds of wholly preventable accidents for them to happen. Florida has made it a crime to have any gun within reach of children less than 18 years of age, (Florida gun laws. 2006), however, this is a law that cannot be enforced until after a tragic event has happened. It is a personal responsibility to ensure that if a person is to own a gun, that the gun is at all times in a safe mode and unattainable by anyone, child or adult.
Gun control as pertains to laws and the interpretation of the U.S. Constitution is a complicated matter and one that should be straight forward but have many different aspects. Many people believe that to have a safe society guns should be banned entirely and that only law enforcement should have them.
Any time there is a violent crime such as a lone gunman that attacks people or a child is killed when finding a gun at home or outside there are cries by some to blame the guns and even the manufacturers. Instead of people realizing that it is the human that is at fault, not the gun. People will cry for more laws, more restrictions, and more punishment. Yet those laws only punish law abiding citizens, the criminals will not care what laws are passed, they will still carry guns. But now the criminals will not to worry so much about potential victims having guns to defend themselves.
A very good observation on comparing the war on guns and the war on drugs in regards to criminal access: People who obey gun-control laws are less able to defend themselves against those who don’t obey those same laws. Moreover, there is no reason to believe that a war on guns will rid American society of guns any more than the war on drugs has eradicated drugs from our society. Those who wish to purchase illegal guns will be able to do so on the black market as easily as they purchase drugs. (LaRosa, 2002)
Statistics show that without a doubt that in states and cities with narrow laws limiting the ownership of guns by private citizens that the crime rate is higher than in areas that more loosely allow ownership.
However, authors of papers that are against the right to carry laws leave out data that shows crime decreases with carry laws, those writers are only critical of the law itself. They are very selective to leave out vital data which would support ownership:
One of the first states to make it easier for modern citizens to carry concealed handguns in public places was Florida. Prior to 1987, Florida had a county-level “may-issue” carry permit system that allowed county officials to deny carry permits if they believed the applicant lacked “good moral character” (Kleck, 1997:368). As of October 1, 1987, the state law was changed to a state-administered, nondiscretionary permit system with carry permits valid throughout the state. The law allows permit holders to carry concealed handguns anywhere in the state, except in “places of nuisance” such as courtrooms or schools. The applicant must be 21 years old, provide evidence of having satisfactorily completed a gun safety program, and cannot have a felony conviction, history of mental illness, or record of alcohol or drug abuse (Florida Department of State, 2003a). In practice, applicants are rarely denied permits. Of the 837,280 applications received from October 1, 1987 through February 28, 2003, only 3,914 or 0.47% were denied a permit due to a criminal history or incomplete application (Florida Department of State, 2003b) (Tomislav V Kovandzic, Thomas B Marvell. 2003)
Why does crime go down in regions with more gun friendly laws? The most accepted cause is that criminals, like any predatory animal, don’t want to risk injury to themselves in the attack on a victim. If there is a strong possibility of the victim having a gun to fight back with, that victim may be left alone.
Many people will not accept that idea. However, it has been proven time and time again in history that when the means to defend one’s self is taken away, crimes, genocide and humanitarian disaster is close behind. There are many cases throughout the world such as Rwanda, Sudan, and other regions in Africa where people have had their means of self defense removed and then been slaughtered by those that still have the power
People want to believe that if there are laws that everyone will follow those laws. However, that is just an illusion of safety and can be more of a threat to the well being of a family that any gun could be.
Another common saying is, “better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it.” This could be about as true a statement as they can come, imagine if someone at Columbine had been lawfully able to have a gun at the school, or at Virginia Tech or on September 11 if pilots or lawfully licensed and/or trained people were allowed to have their handguns with them at all times? Lives could have been saved if not for the Zero Tolerance rules. All these laws do really just make all the people in those areas easy targets. It is also these rare and tragic events that spark such emotional reactions to guns and the call for gun laws.
Finally as the facts clearly state throughout the paper it is that the ability of each individual to have the capacity to protect against harm of street crime or home invasion. There may not be time or even opportunity to contact authorities as a crime is being committed and life is at risk. It has been shown that if criminals believe there is a high probability that a potential victim may be armed they will not attempt the crime or go to other places where the personal risk is lower. Through education, laws that punish mishandling, not ownership, of firearms, and devices that can lower the risk or even eliminate all together the loss of life to accidental firings, can we have a better understanding on the use of handguns. Yet even then those die hard anti-gun people may never see the light demanding that we all live by their world view and not be allowed to have our own.

Fight or Flee

One cool, still, dark morning I went out for a little jog. Being outdoors before the sun rises and most people wake up is calming and a great way to start the day. While coming down a poorly-lit, stretch and around a left curve I begin to warm up and feel my legs begin to stride.

Behind me I heard barks along with clawed feet on weathered asphalt. Yapping is urgent and closing, no need to turn and see what is coming up fast behind me. Around this area we had a feral dog problem, several packs and a few loners running free causing all the trouble and mayhem they desire. What’s going to stop them?

It’s decision time.

My choices at that moment was clear, keep running and be seen as prey to predator minds. Or turn and fight. No way I’m going to out run dogs. Not being one to be taken down by a leg bite on the run then mauled to death.

I took a breath, let it out and turned.

Knowing that the best way to handle these dogs was head on, present a strong front, discourage them.

Was I afraid? Well, yes. A human versus several sets of snarling teeth and claws, yeah I had some fear. That fear was swallowed down and turned it to a more useful emotion: anger. I may lose, but there is gonna be a fight first, and they’re gonna know I was there. Also there was survival, it may not be an emotion, but it is a desire of first regard.

In my mind’s eye the battle was already taking place. Poke eyes, shove an arm down a throat, kick, punch, brawling dirty fight with some dogs. Within that couple seconds of decision making time the battle was already fought, saw myself bloodied but victorious. Standing with taught arms and clenched fists watching whimpering pooches trot off while glancing back at me over shoulders, tails between their legs. A couple of the pack lying still at my feet.

What really happened was another story.

Stopping and turning I faced maybe six medium sized dogs running in my direction from the shadows of the curve. Hairs along the neck of the closest one to me were raised in a sure sign of hostility. He meant business for sure. So did I. Pack was still about fifty feet or so from me and closing not at full speed but a good clip. They had a nice horizontal line coming at me that would make any infantry patrol squad leader proud.

Not waiting on them to get to me I took quick steps toward them and barked my own, waving an arm while yelling “Get!” It’s safe to say they were just not expecting that. I even did the old trick of pretending to pick up a rock, have used it several times with dogs and has always made them pause. In hindsight what happened next was comical. All the dogs came to a slow trot and looked at each. As if saying, “Hey, he’s not supposed to do that.” Not losing any momentum I picked up the pace and got louder. They stopped, turned and trotted off looking back at me every few steps maybe to see if I had changed my mind and wanted to play their game again. I didn’t.

So while there was a chance of danger, injury and possibly even death; it seems all I faced that morning was a pack of dogs that were out for a chase, some barking and not much more. When push came to shove and they were confronted by determined foe, well they did what all their kind does: High-tail it back into the shadows, tails tucked between their legs.

Now we are all going to face such moments, either alone, with friends, a community and even as a Nation. We will have to make a decision, are we going to fight or be taken down? There is no compromising with predators.

Lazy Americans?

In the debate on illegal immigration – why we are debating is beyond me, because criminals are criminals – Americans are being labelled as lazy and cast as unwilling to perform jobs requiring manual labor.

I believe there are millions of Americans who would strongly protest that. Among them are the approximately 130,000 Americans currently serving in Iraq and Afghanistan at any one time, along with many more that have also done tours, patrolling the terrain in full-body armor and full combat loads. Body armor alone is 50 pounds, 120 rounds of ammo is about 20 pounds, an M-16 is 7 pounds, Kevlar helmet, water, and MRE and other gear adds up to 15 to 25 more pounds. Now go about for a day or more with all that. Oh, and let’s not forget, people are trying to kill you the entire time.

How many Mexican or Central or South American military personnel are in these areas? ZERO. Why not?

Mexicans are so willing to do the jobs that no one else wants to do? Well, there is genocide in Darfur that no one in the world wants to dirty their hands with. Is Mexico sending peacekeepers? NOPE. Rwanda, Somalia are still all hell holes: Mexico, ya’ll wanna head over there and help out?

I’ve been to Korea. I didn’t see any Mexican troops over there helping guard the DMZ. Maybe Vietnam could have been different if 12 million illegals had helped out instead of only thinking of themselves. It would be a great help if Mexico and all points south would help in the War on Terror.

World War II should have been called “World War II Minus Mexico.” The only thing the Mexicans did was not take Hitler up on the plan to invade the United States. Later though, South America countries helped out by taking in all the Nazis on the run. Good work there, guys.

So, I guess the people south of us are really brave, marching in our streets, demanding rights as full citizens, -with all the freebees that comes with that privilege- and amnesty, but they sure are cowards when it comes to making any changes in their own corrupt countries or helping out in the world stage of events. I would have so much more respect if Mexico City had throngs of people in the streets demanding all from that government as they do from ours. But no they instead take the easy road riding the wave of entitlements and knowing fully that there are few if any repercussions to demanding more and more in our American city streets and if anyone should dare to challenge the illegals and their enablers all that has to be done is declare the charge of RACISM. Is it any wonder the chihuahua is the preferred dog? All bark and no bite.

Are any countries in this hemisphere besides Canada doing anything to help out the rest of the world? Is there a single thing coming from down south that we actually need?

Several countries to our immediate south are going down the gutter. Is anyone down there doing anything to fix it? Heck no. They are bailing out like rats, and at the same time re-creating the same failed environments here.
America has been so helpful in bailing out these corrupt governments for so long they now expect it – just as our welfare people do here. They don’t want to earn it, but have the mentality that we “owe” it to them. America is nothing more than a blank check to the world now. These other countries are all grown up; it’s time to let them fail or succeed without us.

Let’s fix ourselves, starting with voting out all these political glad-handers and getting some people who can actually solve a problem or two.

Ask anyone in across the country that has lost his job in construction to corrupt contractors who want to cut costs by using illegal workers. If there were no illegals, people could make a decent wage. My stepfather was a block mason making $24 an hour in the 80’s and 90s. Now, no one gets more than $10, yet the cost of living has tripled.

These American workers have been robbed of a higher standard of living, a standard of living that was actually being earned as opposed to a tax payer funded handout, by the greedy back-room dealings of politicians seeking to enrich themselves no matter the cost to the country. Seems to me only the wealthy Hollywood Liberals are using the illegals as nannies and house help, so of course they will be against deportation. God forbid they spend time with their own kids, or maybe do their own laundry. Perhaps they are just practicing for how they want to treat the rest of us lowly hicks that live between New York and California, as peasants that need to serve their betters.
Any fool who says we need illegals needs to take a look outside their bubble, because we don’t. To say we need them is the same as saying we need sweatshops and forced prostitution. Do we really need indentured servants? Is that what the liberals are saying? Are they saying we need not worry about ghettos in our towns? Well, as long as they are not in their towns, right? Some cities are passing resolutions to be safe havens for illegals. I cannot wait for the floods of people to hit them up.

Don’t tell me Americans are lazy. It looks to me like we are doing the jobs that no other country in the world wants to do. We send our money to save people, we send food, and most of all we send our children to defend and protect the same people who would gladly stab us in the back. We put up with being called racists while saving Muslims in Croatia from genocide and helping out the very illegals that plan to take parts of our nation. We are called warmongers for keeping the battles away from the American streets, instead fighting where the people who hate us live. We Americans protect a land that has not seen war on its own soil in more than 100 years. What other nation can say all that?

Now we have an Administration that calls our own veterans and tea party protesters threats while ignoring all other true dangers. Yet we Americans will continue to put the burden upon or own backs and trudge forward, doing the work no one else wants to do.

Lazy? Well, I’ll take lazy over a coward any day.