Thanksgiving 2013. Really.

Enough for a list:

Loved ones nearby.

A job I really love that pays a living wage.

A boat I really love that shelters us while keeping us young.

A place to stay while the boat is getting painted. (See first entry.)

A man I really love, who really loves me.

A church I really love, where folks really are the best kind of people.

It hasn’t always been easy, the ups and downs of life since I started this blog. I’ve lost five loved ones, one really good promised job, one home, one home town; I’ve won and left numerous jobs, endured a few others, and fought my way into the last job I ever want without knowing it would be exactly where I should be, and what I should do.

Through it all, the Pepper Dog has been at my side, where she is at this moment dreaming of turkey trimmings. She’s deaf and blind now, unable to join us on the boat but she’s never far away at my son’s home. She’s still feisty and healthy, frustrated by her need for others to help her. She’s just made to be scritched and loved. She’s beautiful.

Through it all my son and his wife have been, until we moved aboard the boat, right next door. They’re the reason we moved to Charleston. Fun to see my son as the stable element in all of our bumptious activity these last few years. Heaven knows he’s been hither and yon with his pirate parents. It’s only fitting that he found a beautiful and equally nerdy soul mate with whom to build a solid, abiding place of permanence. Although we are all talking about Bolivia…

And to the dozen of you that have hung around, hung with me, and have become fellow-pirates on the seas of change that have overswept our nation, I am thankful for the fellowship, the sense of fun, the sense of proportion you have afforded my rambling thoughts. God bless you all, in His time, in His way.

pirate life

Happy Thanksgiving! And keep your powder dry!

If I EVER Complain About Being Bored At Work Again

bored_at_workYou all have permission to smack me about the head and ears.

Sorry for not checking in with you guys on your blogs, much less my own. New job has been exhausting and fun work, but it’s still called, “work” for a reason. I swear, it’s like I went from 0mph to 100mph in a moment.

Taking 40 days off from politics has just about cured me of them, so there’s that, too.

Meanwhile, I awoke with a brilliant idea for a museum. Do you ever do that? Wake up with brilliant ideas? I’d tell you mine, but museums are cash cows (we’re talkin’ 50% profit margins, if you do it right) so go find your own. Or spill the beans in the comments.

Hope everyone’s well!

Gun Control And Sex Education

If any family members born of my womb are present, please leave the room. Now!

Why aren’t the “gun control” people clamoring for “penis control” to combat rape? Can’t we agree that the penis is the problem? Am I wrong, or did I miss the memo from the Feminazis that all men are rapists? I don’t agreee, but for the sake of argument let me continue.

Try to engage with a gun-grabber and all you get is them walking you back around to guns=evil. They will excoriate you for trying to address evil when it’s plain to them that GUNS are the problem. They will reject your appeals to logic, decry the fact that words and ideas have killed far more people, they will even shut their eyes and stop their ears against any appeal to consider the will to act comes before the action. And they will never see the irony of this:

Okay. Hypocrisy is duly noted, properly mocked and seasoned with salt.

But Hollywood won’t address the thought behind the trigger. It’s puzzling because they are usually so quick to blame the “evil” corporations, “evil” Republicans, “evil” Christians.

We’re grownups and we all know the real difference between a penis and a *PENIS!* is the mind of its owner. Without the will, the “weapon” is harmless. Further, the weapon must be wielded by someone with the strength and skill to effectively accomplish its intent.

So why aren’t the brave crusaders calling for the confiscation of all penises?

When I posited this on Twitter, The Maximum Leader responded, “When they can pry it from my cold dead hand.”

But Lower

[Guest post by the J.R.]

How to compare
This mystery so fair?
From Heaven He came
And we are to blame,
But instead of God’s wrath
Brings a Shepherd’s staff.
Born in a manger–
What could be stranger

We’ve heard it so much
It means nothing to us.

Condescends to our estate
Born not rich or head of state
But lower.

Born not a Super Star
To be seen from afar
But lower.

Born not Greek
At Plato’s feet (Though Plato bows)
But Lower.

Born beneath our estate
A Roman slave’s fate
But lower.

Far from home both Heaven and earthly
Of Him the world is not worthy
No bed nor room at an inn
No midwife nor family or friends
But lower.

Among the beasts and in the dirt
From which we came and will return
We the powerful, rich and proud
Cannot conceive the wonderous sound.
We build our towers of steel and illusion
In our world so full of confusion
In our effort to reach the unreachable,
Need humble ourselves and be teachable
Of a virgin so tender and mild
In spite of my sins on me He smiled.
He, the righful Ruler of all
We, the guilty of our own fall.
Deserving wrath and rejection
Receiving grace and acceptance.

Strive not upward with towers of Babble
Our salvation lies not there
But lower–
In the dirt among the rabble
Humble, on bended knee.

-by The J.R.

Chickens and cows now required to have government issued I.D. Voters, not so much.

Because everyone knows that chickens vote Democrat and that Obama depends on the cows giving milk for free. Or something. Ra-a-a-cisssst!

How can we expect a chicken to give its life for us and not allow it to vote?  Why should cows work for the man? Let the cows decide. “My milk. My choice!”

Write your own jokes in the comments. Chicken suffrage now!

Mindless voters. We could trade in the Elephant and Donkey logos and be a bit more accurate.

Flip Side

Meanwhile, in another part of the world where folks are just glad to have enough to eat and a dry place to sleep, the J.R. is making friends:

That kid doesn’t know he’s posing with the dread pirate Jolly Roger!

I’m just hoping he comes home. I know he wants to stay. He’s happily translating for the team instead of shoveling cement. Slacker!

Best Laugh On A Monday

Oh, if only the sexton were here to write down that I’m an ass! Gentlemen, remember that I am an ass; even though it’s not written down, don’t forget that I’m an ass. Oh, you’re a rotten bastard, you are. I’m a wise man and, what’s more, I’m an officer of the law and, what’s more, I’m a householder and, what’s more, I’m as handsome a hunk of meat as any in Messina. And I know the law, damn you, and I’m rich enough, damn you, and I used to have more, but I still have two robes and lots of lovely things.—Take him away!—Oh, if only the sexton had recorded that I’m an ass!

Ripped from The Looking Spoon. Who nicked it from FR. Who nicked it from photographer Guy Neveling.