Stephen
Autumn
Friday, July 1, 2011
Great Read
Stephen
Low Class
Pussle Gut walks into my shop this morning, no hello or how are you; he's out of breath.
He yells, "Stephen I gotta problem and I need your help."
Pussle Gut is about sixty-five, graying hair and a belly that proceeds him into any room he enters. I don't dislike him but he makes it awful hard to stand in his presence for any length of time, that kind.
"What's the problem?"
"You know Ramrod, don't 'ya." I nod yes. "He's in the hospital 'bout to die and I need your advice."
All I think is why me.
"Look, he continues, you know his has those nice handguns, 'bout six Glocks and a couple of nice Smiths, and that 'ole long barreled .357 magnum. Well, I need you to tell me how to approach 'em so's I can buy 'em 'fore he dies."
I released a long sigh....then, "Pussle Gut (he hates it when I refer to that way) leave them alone."
"Now by God you know that sorry-assed kid of his is just gonna get 'em and pawn the heck out of those nice guns, he'll let 'em go for nothing."
"It's none of you business, leave them alone." Respect and the lack of tack are terms he wouldn't understand, so I didn't bother explaining.
"No, dammit I won't leave 'em alone, 'taint right."
His face is flushed and a light bead of sweat worked its way down his cheek. I waited a slow count of six, took a step towards him and said, "Get out of my shop, please."
Low class tacky butthole.
He did. He hereby receives the first ever 'Bucket of Sash Weights Award.'
Please folks, don't make me hand out any more awards. Thank you.
Stephen
He yells, "Stephen I gotta problem and I need your help."
Pussle Gut is about sixty-five, graying hair and a belly that proceeds him into any room he enters. I don't dislike him but he makes it awful hard to stand in his presence for any length of time, that kind.
"What's the problem?"
"You know Ramrod, don't 'ya." I nod yes. "He's in the hospital 'bout to die and I need your advice."
All I think is why me.
"Look, he continues, you know his has those nice handguns, 'bout six Glocks and a couple of nice Smiths, and that 'ole long barreled .357 magnum. Well, I need you to tell me how to approach 'em so's I can buy 'em 'fore he dies."
I released a long sigh....then, "Pussle Gut (he hates it when I refer to that way) leave them alone."
"Now by God you know that sorry-assed kid of his is just gonna get 'em and pawn the heck out of those nice guns, he'll let 'em go for nothing."
"It's none of you business, leave them alone." Respect and the lack of tack are terms he wouldn't understand, so I didn't bother explaining.
"No, dammit I won't leave 'em alone, 'taint right."
His face is flushed and a light bead of sweat worked its way down his cheek. I waited a slow count of six, took a step towards him and said, "Get out of my shop, please."
Low class tacky butthole.
He did. He hereby receives the first ever 'Bucket of Sash Weights Award.'
Please folks, don't make me hand out any more awards. Thank you.
Stephen
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Survivalist Thoughts
Where to begin....first of all there are thousands, if not millions, of articles on survival arts and prepping scattered across the internet. For me to to write another chapter on the subject would be silly; besides, I'm far from being an expert. If you want expert advice may I suggest you try my two friends James W. Rawles, the writer of Patriots (and if you haven't as yet read his book, shame on you) and Arsenius the Hermit of 'Living Out There' fame. Links to both can be found on my sidebar under 'blogs I read.
As an old military veteran preparedness was drilled into my head, I believe Arsenius made this point recently. It's a way of life for us. Why I am writing this now you ask, because I've received many questions over the last few days asking my advice. Okay, you'll get it, you may not like it, but here it is - use a little common sense. It works and it's free.
In my early days I followed the teachings of Mel Tappen and Ragnar Benson, old school. Google 'em. Read their books, study.
There are certain rules you should follow towards this lifestyle, they are fairly simple. First, read, I mean how simple is that, just read. Even works of fiction can teach you, like Rawles novel, Patriots. Its nothing more than a primer in the form of a story. There are many others I just haven't time to list (I own a business after all and customers tend to get angry with me when I tell them to sit down and shut-up while I write) but do a bit of research and you'll find many hours of fine reading.
Rule number two, keep at least a years worth of food in your pantry. This rule should be adjusted upwards if you have more than the standard four per household. I personally know families with a zero food supply. They must shop for every meal they cook. Sadly, my son and DIL fall into this category; I refer to them as mushrooms.
I never buy just one can of anything, I purchase by the case. And, please, don't get caught up into thinking it's necessary to stock only canned food. Follow the rules and use the guidelines of the Mormon church, good people who have the art of food preps down to a science.
Each trip I make to the grocery store I grab a ten pound bag of rice, or a bag of dried beans, salt, sugar, flour. I then walk over to the bakery section of my local store and ask them if they have any plastic five gallon buckets. They give them away free. Sometimes I get, depending on the stock, a three and a half gallon, but hey, it works. Now, take those bags and seal them inside those buckets. Google Walton Feeds for further instructions. Simple and cheap and those buckets, if kept sealed, will last for years.
This will take all day at my current pace.
Over the last few years I've ordered, on a three month basis, cases of #10 cans of freeze-dried food from such companies as Emergency Essentials and Preparedness Pantry. Every bed in my home, all four bedrooms, has a stash of cases. They will last for at least thirty years. Think about it. And, learn how to can your own food. 'Nuff said.
Rule number two - security - protection of not only your family members and friends but yourself. You will need firearms, and if you're one of those, 'I have a shotgun and I'm good to go type people,' never mind. Find some purple clogs and a poodle and sally forth.
Again this is one of those 'written to death' subjects. I will only, as requested, touch on 'get home bags.' Let's assume you are intelligent enough to have by now purchased, not only a handgun, but a battle rifle and have gotten some expert training and do indeed practice with your firearms, okay. If not, poodle walking time.
My get home bag is nothing more than an old surplus Czech ruck-sack filled with items I think and hope will help me get home from any natural or man-made disaster if I were stranded on the road. I keep it and a small medical kit along with another ruck-sack which contains my 'critter-getter' in the back seat of my truck. I also have the same setup in my wife's vehicle. One of my readers asked if I worried about thief. Of course I do, but I'd much rather have the peace of mind knowing my bags are always with me, and besides, if thief is a great concern, then remove the bags each evening and replace the next morning.
Contents, well it's kinda personal, but I have water, Datrex food bars (Emergency Essentials) spare clothing, a fire kit (remember the rule of three here, more on that later) a small radio, para-cord and assorted other items. Personalize yours to your needs and climate, adjust to the seasons of the year.
Why you ask, because once upon a time I found myself broken down in the mountains of western Washington State. The nearest help was ten long miles via logging roads with sunset just minutes away. Guess where I spent the night.
Let's pretend, shall we, you are twenty miles across a large city from your home. The Great One has taken one up side his noggin by a freak with a baseball bat and said freak hits a home run. What do you think will happen within the next fifteen minutes....go ahead, take your time. I'll tell you - we will have what we military guys call a 'target rich environment.' Now, you or your wife or your child is 'way out yonder' and their car or truck gets taken by the zombies, and if they escape with their lives, dodging lead and burning buildings and they have a twenty or thirty mile walk home, what do you think their odds are of making it to the safety of your loving arms. Think about it. Any questions?
Folks, I've run out of time. If you want me to continue this, let me know. I do so appreciate your time and patience. Duty calls. And please overlook my edit work, I'm too far behind to worry about it. Thanks.
Stephen
As an old military veteran preparedness was drilled into my head, I believe Arsenius made this point recently. It's a way of life for us. Why I am writing this now you ask, because I've received many questions over the last few days asking my advice. Okay, you'll get it, you may not like it, but here it is - use a little common sense. It works and it's free.
In my early days I followed the teachings of Mel Tappen and Ragnar Benson, old school. Google 'em. Read their books, study.
There are certain rules you should follow towards this lifestyle, they are fairly simple. First, read, I mean how simple is that, just read. Even works of fiction can teach you, like Rawles novel, Patriots. Its nothing more than a primer in the form of a story. There are many others I just haven't time to list (I own a business after all and customers tend to get angry with me when I tell them to sit down and shut-up while I write) but do a bit of research and you'll find many hours of fine reading.
Rule number two, keep at least a years worth of food in your pantry. This rule should be adjusted upwards if you have more than the standard four per household. I personally know families with a zero food supply. They must shop for every meal they cook. Sadly, my son and DIL fall into this category; I refer to them as mushrooms.
I never buy just one can of anything, I purchase by the case. And, please, don't get caught up into thinking it's necessary to stock only canned food. Follow the rules and use the guidelines of the Mormon church, good people who have the art of food preps down to a science.
Each trip I make to the grocery store I grab a ten pound bag of rice, or a bag of dried beans, salt, sugar, flour. I then walk over to the bakery section of my local store and ask them if they have any plastic five gallon buckets. They give them away free. Sometimes I get, depending on the stock, a three and a half gallon, but hey, it works. Now, take those bags and seal them inside those buckets. Google Walton Feeds for further instructions. Simple and cheap and those buckets, if kept sealed, will last for years.
This will take all day at my current pace.
Rule number two - security - protection of not only your family members and friends but yourself. You will need firearms, and if you're one of those, 'I have a shotgun and I'm good to go type people,' never mind. Find some purple clogs and a poodle and sally forth.
Again this is one of those 'written to death' subjects. I will only, as requested, touch on 'get home bags.' Let's assume you are intelligent enough to have by now purchased, not only a handgun, but a battle rifle and have gotten some expert training and do indeed practice with your firearms, okay. If not, poodle walking time.
My get home bag is nothing more than an old surplus Czech ruck-sack filled with items I think and hope will help me get home from any natural or man-made disaster if I were stranded on the road. I keep it and a small medical kit along with another ruck-sack which contains my 'critter-getter' in the back seat of my truck. I also have the same setup in my wife's vehicle. One of my readers asked if I worried about thief. Of course I do, but I'd much rather have the peace of mind knowing my bags are always with me, and besides, if thief is a great concern, then remove the bags each evening and replace the next morning.
Contents, well it's kinda personal, but I have water, Datrex food bars (Emergency Essentials) spare clothing, a fire kit (remember the rule of three here, more on that later) a small radio, para-cord and assorted other items. Personalize yours to your needs and climate, adjust to the seasons of the year.
Why you ask, because once upon a time I found myself broken down in the mountains of western Washington State. The nearest help was ten long miles via logging roads with sunset just minutes away. Guess where I spent the night.
Let's pretend, shall we, you are twenty miles across a large city from your home. The Great One has taken one up side his noggin by a freak with a baseball bat and said freak hits a home run. What do you think will happen within the next fifteen minutes....go ahead, take your time. I'll tell you - we will have what we military guys call a 'target rich environment.' Now, you or your wife or your child is 'way out yonder' and their car or truck gets taken by the zombies, and if they escape with their lives, dodging lead and burning buildings and they have a twenty or thirty mile walk home, what do you think their odds are of making it to the safety of your loving arms. Think about it. Any questions?
Folks, I've run out of time. If you want me to continue this, let me know. I do so appreciate your time and patience. Duty calls. And please overlook my edit work, I'm too far behind to worry about it. Thanks.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Welcome and Thanks
Over the last few days many nice people have clicked the 'follow' button. I've gone from six, I think, to twenty five in just a few days. Thank you all very much and welcome. I will do my best to make your visits a pleasant experience.
May I introduce my Sweet Wife and grandchildren.
My grandson, Sport Model in his grandmother's arms. He's not quite nine months old. This photo was taken at my son's home. Perhaps one day he'll stand still and I will post a picture of him and his sweet wife.
Little Bit and her Nana.
Again, thank you so much for your friendship and support.
Stephen
May I introduce my Sweet Wife and grandchildren.
Again, thank you so much for your friendship and support.
Stephen
It's The Little Things
"Papa."
"What, Sweetheart."
We're in a local eatery for a slice of pie.
"Do you remember when we went to the flea market?"
"Yes I do, Honey, why?" Silence. The waitress tops off my ice tea. A thunderstorm is hammering our world.
She takes another bite, then, "You 'member you told me nothing in life is free."
Uh-oh. She has those big brown eyes locked on my face. The same eyes that melt my heart anytime she glaces my way.
"I do remember, Little Bit." More silence as she works on the pie and takes an occasional sip of her root beer, her drink of choice.
The rain is heavy, it's warm in here.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You 'member that nice old man that gave me those two little dolls?"
I know she has me.
"Yes, Papa remembers."
Silence. My coconut cream pie remains as is, half eaten.
"Papa?" I wait for a second then respond, "What is it, Honey."
"Papa, did that old man make you give him 'monies?"
I know where this is going. But it's fun as she blocks me into the corner.
"No, Little Bit, he didn't ask Papa to give him money."
Silence. The rain is steady pounding, the waitress moves between tables; a slow steady shuffle and you know she's weary and resolve to leave a nice tip.
Little Bit has her head down working over her slice of pie, then slowly lifts her sweet face.
Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Then I guess some things in life are free, huh." Like that.
Women.
"What, Sweetheart."
We're in a local eatery for a slice of pie.
"Do you remember when we went to the flea market?"
"Yes I do, Honey, why?" Silence. The waitress tops off my ice tea. A thunderstorm is hammering our world.
She takes another bite, then, "You 'member you told me nothing in life is free."
Uh-oh. She has those big brown eyes locked on my face. The same eyes that melt my heart anytime she glaces my way.
"I do remember, Little Bit." More silence as she works on the pie and takes an occasional sip of her root beer, her drink of choice.
The rain is heavy, it's warm in here.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You 'member that nice old man that gave me those two little dolls?"
I know she has me.
"Yes, Papa remembers."
Silence. My coconut cream pie remains as is, half eaten.
"Papa?" I wait for a second then respond, "What is it, Honey."
"Papa, did that old man make you give him 'monies?"
I know where this is going. But it's fun as she blocks me into the corner.
"No, Little Bit, he didn't ask Papa to give him money."
Silence. The rain is steady pounding, the waitress moves between tables; a slow steady shuffle and you know she's weary and resolve to leave a nice tip.
Little Bit has her head down working over her slice of pie, then slowly lifts her sweet face.
Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Then I guess some things in life are free, huh." Like that.
Women.
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