Friday, January 31, 2014

And that's how you spell "fascism"

Okay, every house I've ever lived in had a wood stove or a fireplace. A couple have had both. During particularly brutal winters, the wood fires were almost a primary source of heat when the electric went down.
And now, the EPA has decided that wood fires aren't even green enough, and declared war on rural America. Fuck Obama, fuck the environmentalists and fuck the EPA.

While the EPA’s most recent regulations aren’t altogether new, their impacts will nonetheless be severe. Whereas restrictions had previously banned wood-burning stoves that didn’t limit fine airborne particulate emissions to 15 micrograms per cubic meter (μg/m3) of air, the change will impose a maximum 12 μg/m3 limit. To put this amount in context, the EPA estimates that secondhand tobacco smoke in a closed car can expose a person to 3,000-4,000 μg/m3 of particulates.
Most wood stoves that warm cabin and home residents from coast to coast cannot meet that standard. Older stoves that don’t cannot be traded in for updated types, but instead must be rendered inoperable, destroyed, or recycled as scrap metal.

Bitch, please...

I wouldn't have lasted that long. 
I'd have either decked her or 
drove off in a cloud of diesel smoke.

January can fuck the fuck off

Aside from the events of the last few days and the amazing love shown by the III community for one of our brothers, this month has monumentally sucked. I went 47 years with only one wreck. I was in two in 10 days. I totaled Poppy's pickup (not my fault) and then just about totaled the Momvan (again not my fault). I trusted someone and got burned, badly, which hurt my folks more than it hurt me. And was informed I have one year to get a job or start a business because the spouse is done working. He's "worked 20 years, it's my turn to stay home and eat bonbons" (I've never had a bonbon in my life.) So I'm juggling a business proposal for a laundromat (nearest is 34 miles away) or a job as Communications Officer for TXDOT in Paris (should know in a couple of weeks.) Now as bad as that sounds, either would suit me and I've actually found a rockin' little place in commuting distance to Paris. Six and a half acres with a bass stocked spring-fed pond and a mature pecan grove. House is old, but solid, and a bargain at $72K. Or the laundromat, with a business loan, could bring in enough to cover bills and I could still take care of the chicks. Thinking of calling it Dirty Duds (done dirt cheap).  Okay, I think I just pep-talked myself out of a funk. Go me! 

I guess my point is, as long as you're still in the air, you still have time to figure out how to land.

Angel's Paradise:

Thursday, January 30, 2014

I'm almost sure this woman has just as many cats

Never trust a male meteorologist

III to III for a fellow blogger

I have a snail mail addy for Steve and Rose.

229 W Johnson St
Norman, OK 73069

God bless each and every one of you who have helped. You are the heart and spirit of this great country.
You are the III.

I've seen the power of those words, the call to action that turns normal everyday folk into quiet heroes. I also know that we're all average folk with bills and challenges and months where there's  more bills than money.  So what do you do when you see one of your breathren sinking? You count your pennies, you cut out some extras, and you lend a hand.

I've known Steven (xenolith, The Voices in My Head) for almost a year. He's a good man, good husband, good Patriot. And he's one of those who'd never ask for help until his back was against the wall and he was facing the shit. He's asked for help.

None of us has the magic wand to wave away financial troubles, but most of us can scrape together a few bucks for a friend. Think about it, if only 5 people could afford $50, that's $250. But if 50 people can donate $10, that's double. Enough pebbles can fill a lake. Little blessings can save a soul.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Lone Star Badassitude

Well, just damn.

Asstacular post

To take your minds off the coming shitfilled SOTU, I present the following...

The SOTU drinking game

I'm not watching it. I've got much better things to do, like shave rats, or suck-siphon the neighbor's Winnebago waste tank, or volunteer to expel the anal glands of every dog in the local shelter. All much more enjoyable and worthwhile efforts than watching Obama lie. But if you're so inclined to tune in, here is the SOTU Drinking Game compliments of Greg Gutfeld. Whom I love.

“Every time he says ‘folks,’ drink. Every time he says ‘fair share,’ drink. Every time he says ‘extraordinary,’ drink. Every time he brags about working tirelessly, drink. When he frets about lack of compromise, drink.  If he says, ‘Bring me a bill, and I’ll sign it,’ drink. When he brings up the middle class, the people he’s ruining, drink. Every time he says, ‘It’s the right thing to do,’ drink. Every time he cites someone that his policies have helped, drink. If she’s in the audience, drink some more. Every time he says, ‘I never said it would be easy,’ drink. If he says that after mentioning ObamaCare, drink again. If he says ObamaCare’s rough start was worth it, drink. And every time he reminds us that running a country is really hard, say, ‘Yeah, we can tell,’ and drink … Finally, each time you feel like you’re being screwed, drink. And if you still buy anything from this gas bag, then you deserve the world’s worst hangover, and enjoy it, ‘cause you built that.”

Creativity in the High Plains

Having lived here my entire life, I know tumbleweeds. I have very interesting tumbleweed stories. I was driving behind one of those smartcar things on Hwy 60 when a rather largish tumbleweed rolled across two lanes and completely engulfed it. Almost half a mile of swerving and what I can only imagine colorful language, and the thing finally dislodged and rolled on to menace other hybrids. I worked at TEXAS Musical Drama in beautiful Palo Duro Canyon every summer during high school. I remember many Yankees who'd come down and fall in love with the damned things. One lady who looked straight out of casting for The Sopranos enlisted my aid in packing and shipping one home to Jersey so she could have it bronzed for her gardens. Some people have more money than sense. I imagine they'll be contacting this guy soon.

I have some rare tumbleweeds for sale. Please come look and take your pick.
These are hard to come by around here. Get yourself one, a trunk full, a truck full, or a whole yard full. Come give me an offer. I will not refuse a good dollar. 20 bucks is 20 bucks ya know...

Yep, that's a dead giveaway

Monday, January 27, 2014

Late night chuckles

to purchase:

Run, big ginger! RUN!!!

Special note to the WRSA readers:
I'm honored to have been linked and y'all are more than welcome to stay a while and check things out. Just don't go riling up my regulars where I have to start handing out spankings. And don't think you'll get away with it just because you're guests.

A ONE, TWO power punch

Run, little ginger! RUN!

Can't say it better than this

How to raise your boys to not be metrosexual pussies. Yep, that's the challenge in today's world. Of course, I'm preaching to the choir here. I don't think there's a metrosexual among you hairy-legged misfits, and I'm pleased as punch over that. And I know with everything in my being that you would rather have your hairy legs waxed than to raise metrosexual sons. But just in case you know someone who needs to be reminded, these three treatises on raising men rock. Go read and enjoy.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Wiserangel's Vocabulary Lesson #1

For Guinness lovers

I have never claimed to be reverent. As a matter of fact, my family considers me an unwashed heathen. Therefore, I consider it not just acceptable, but my duty to post such filthy smut as this on a Sunday afternoon. Honestly, having watched a recent episode of Two and a Half Men, I don't see why this ad would have been banned. It's really not that bad, honest.

Just pulling on my bitch boots

Friday, January 24, 2014

A really great day

So, the girls had the day off from school for the County Ag Show, chickens and goats and sheep and pigs and steers, oh my. Teen Queen has shown pigs the last few years (see the story about how Miss Porki almost killed me); but she opted out this year. Doesn't mean we didn't have to go watch and cheer on her classmates. We spent the morning  down at the Ag barn until my allergies drove us out.

Home, lunch, change of clothes and off to grandma and Poppy's for the rest of the afternoon and a surprise for TQ. I have a very good friend back home who's been a horsewoman for a very, very, very long (sorry Mary) time and has always invited TQ to come out and ride her horse. This is HEAVEN for the Princess of All Things Equine, so I bundled her off to the university's Equestrian Center were we met Dan, her new bestest friend.

Dear God, that horse is huge! And beautiful! And very spirited. My heart sank. There was no way TQ was going to be able to ride him. Mary offered to ride first, put him through his paces and tire him out. We watched from the railing as she walked, cantered, trotted and finally galloped, putting Dan through his paces. He was magnificent, and did I mention Mary is an excellent horsewoman?
I was still skeptical, but TQ wasn't leaving without a ride. 

His halter was removed and a leading rope added. While Mary was doing this, TQ and Dan were getting acquainted. She was talking softly to him, stroking his nose, and I think plotting. I looked over just as this huge horse head booped my baby. I don't know if y'all know what a head boob is, but it's a very soft sweet headbutt. Mary was grinning. Dan was led to a 3-step stool, and while I was trying to figure out how to get her up there, my little equestrian bounded up the steps and put her foot in the stirrup. Up and over and seated while I was still debating. Now comes the fun part.

The arena had just gotten a new 9-inch layer of very very soft sand. We walked on either side of TQ, Mary holding the lead rope and me reminding TQ of her verbal commands. One tongue click for go, whoa for stop, and a shushing for reverse (yeah, she had old Dan moonwalking at one point). The funny thing is, she can't tongue click; so she'd lean forward and say, "Click" and off he'd go. We walked around the arena for 45-minutes until my butt and thighs were burning. Best workout ever. Especially when you get to see this look on your baby's face. 

Sorry about the fuzziness, I was using my camera phone. So there you have it. Why I didn't post squat today. And I'm not at all repentant. 



For the discerning hound

Charlie would have loved this.
When she moved into the laundry room in the winter,
she'd always try to climb into the dryer 
with all the warm clothes.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Good boy

Angel Bait

If you leave a few of these out, I will find them. I will take them. This is guaranteed.
Going to post the ingredients, but you have to click the link to get the directions. Trust me, it's worth it. The author has a piquant sense of humor and the pics are to die for.


1 pkg. (14 oz) Kraft Deluxe Mac & Cheese dinner
48 Ritz crackers, finely crushed (about 2 cups), divided
1 egg, beaten
8 (or more) slices bacon, cooked and crumbled
2 tsp. chopped jalapeno
4 oz. Velveeta, cut into small cubes
Vegetable oil


Wirecutter Landscaping Services

Molon Labe

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Shit, I have my own strike force

You know who you are

A Poem

Thanks to Becky for sending this in to me. I'm assured she was not alive, let alone reading newspapers back in 1949.

Again, because I love y'all

I wonder if Germans have heard of Brazilians...

And it sucks at doing those 4 things

Soebarkah?! WTF?!

Found this on American Thinker, and read for fun. Then read again because my little tinfoil hat started smoking. Linking Stanley Ann Dunham to Loretta Fuddy (yes, THAT Loretta Fuddy) and to an obscure cult that appears in Chicago, Hawaii and Jakarta Indonesia is just too tasty to resist further scrutiny. Oh, and birth certificate fraud. YOU HAVE GOT TO READ THIS.


Ladies, again, do NOT rely on your girlfriends (and definitely not your man friends) to tell you your outfit sucks. Get a full-length mirror and a clue...

Cruel, but....

I want one. 

Multitasking gone wrong

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

My List

In response to Suject to Change's post, here is MY LIST. Actually I have two lists. I have the Fantasy List full of men I'll never meet. And I have the Illicit List of Real Men Who Should Never Find Themselves Alone With Me In a Dark Room. The first list I'll post; the second list, well, I'll leave that to your imaginations.

#1 Bruce Willis, dear God

#2 Jason Statham

#3 Correction: Chris Long, Howie's son, and
now I have a Father/Son fantasy going...

#4 Sean Connery (although it may kill him)

#5 Keanu Reeves (if he doesn't talk too much)

Wait until you see the tea cups

Pick two

Take a look at these students. The class is a sex education class from 1929. I guarantee two of those women are redheads. Look carefully, can you spot the Gingers?

Monday, January 20, 2014


Texas wants to secede, along with a bunch of other rockin' states, and California wants most to serve a warning with an order of fries. California is fucked. What is on your state's wish list?

Life in small town Texas

Happy, Texas: The Town Without a Frown. Just a ways down the road from where I grew up is the sleepy little town of Happy, full of characters. I'd like to introduce you to one of them. The story is told from the point of view of some Hollywood yahoo who just doesn't get us. But the picture tells the best part of the story.

The comments are pretty good, too.