Out Of The Closet

For months I’ve been nudging my friend Manny.  You see he was keeping a secret from his people and himself.   I couldn’t blame him, Manny is a Latino in his 30s, his family and most of his friends would have a hard time accepting his secret identity.

I met Manny Down in San Diego awhile back and right away, I knew there was something different about him. In an office full of… slackers, he’d show up early for work and he always dressed sharp.  No, I’m not saying Manny was gay it was much worse than that. He didn’t know it yet but Manny was a Republican.

We’ve stayed in touch via social media where I noticed he displayed latent conservative tendencies.  Bright and ambitious with a deep devotion to his family and faith.  A refreshing lack of resentment towards successful people – even rich gabachos.  A good sense of humor, thick skin and of course, guns!

So from time to time I’d kid him about being a closet Republican which he vehemently denied but his cholo buddies would sometimes chime in with “Esé he’s right man, open your eyes!” Which inevitably led to rousing, sarcastic chants of “BUILD THE WALL! BUILD THE WALL!”

But from little acorns grow mighty oaks and last weekend Manny let me know via instagram, my suspicions were correct, he’s now… well not necessarily a flaming Republican but he’s been totally red pilled. He’s off the reservation.  Not because I’m a clever guy no, because Manny is a genuinely smart guy.

Stay strong mi hermano. May your powder be ever dry and may our tribe prosper and flourish!

These days, California has devolved into a place where many people seem to have a hard time determining what they actually are.

Ironically at the same time, some Californians are finding it easier to  figure out what they aren’t.

 

 

 

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The Authentic American Rifleman Part 1

Over the years I’ve enjoyed Tamara Keel’s elegant, lethal snark. She also has a delightful way of applying a historical filter to current culture.  All of which are fully on display here:

Sadly, though, these days when I hear “A rifle behind every blade of grass!” my first thought is usually either “Don’t worry, they aren’t sighted in” or “Those are some wide blades of grass.”

This of course refers to the famous quote attributed to Admiral Yamamoto as to the feasibility of invading the American mainland.  These days, the internet tells us that most such quotes are apocryphal but I prefer to hang on to them.  Another thing I prefer to hold onto (foolishly perhaps) is the romantic notion of the American Citizen/Rifleman.*

We all have the example set by the Minutemen of our Revolutionary War. Those Colonial farmers and shopkeepers who grabbed up their simple kit, marched out and squared up on the British at Lexington and Concord. What does (or more importantly) should that even look like today?  I think for many younger people the obvious answer is The National Guard.  As you get older though it gets increasingly harder to fit into a truly citizen/soldier job description.

Now here is where I circle back to that dreaded, elusive (thank you Claire Wolfe) a-word, authentic.  Fifteen some-odd years ago, a well known gun blogger had a website geared towards “a nation of riflemen”  I enjoyed his writings immensely but after awhile I couldn’t help but notice that our host was a morbidly obese, gout riddled guy who seemed to have a hard time meeting his family obligations all the while, he was making a big deal about buy a gun day or buy ammo day.

This is a pet peeve that I have with the second amendment these days. These days, in my neck of the woods it seems to have devolved into little more than an excuse for what looks an awful lot like compulsive shopping. I know guys who can outfit a small squad but are physically incapable of maneuvering or functioning within a squad in any meaningful way.

So my first observation is;  what kind of citizen are you?  Are you in reasonable physical and financial shape? Honestly, if you can’t keep good tires, brakes and insurance on your car, you have no business buying more guns and ammunition.  And if you’re fat and out-of-shape, you need to start doing something about that today.

So that’s kind of where my head is at.  I’m posting this to get input from others who may be in the same boat.  What is reasonably fit?  When does old become too old?

* I mean no slight to women here, I’m simply using the word “rifleman” as a job descriptor.

The Unimportance Of Being Earnest

I stopped by Claire’s place earlier today and read Part 1 of The Authentic Life  I must admit to doing a good bit of eye-rolling while I read.  Honestly, people who fret over being authentic, by their own admission shouldn’t be taken too seriously.  As noted in my comment to her post, I do make exeptions for writers because by necessity, writers have to fret about all kinds of things just to do their job.

Everything I Ever Needed To Know I Learned From Neil McCauley #1

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Trust your gut.

That little voice, where does it come from?   Is it years of experience or your guardian angel?  Either way, you’d be a fool to ignore it.

Two State Solution

Come November, California might be voting to split up into three separate states.  If successful, here is how I see things shaking out.

Northern CA: The dirt people east of HWY 101 will be dominated by the cloud people in the Bay Area just like they’re currently being dominated so same as it ever was with San Francisco getting to send two Marxist Senators to Washington DC.

California:  Might as well just name it Los Angeles. Water flows to money, so if you are a farmer in Ventura or SLO counties, good luck. And yes, Los Angeles will be sending two Sandinistas to the Senate in DC also.

Southern CA: By God this just might work! The big question:  Are there enough conservatives left in San Diego and Orange counties to make this region a viable alternative to the status quo?Nationally the impact would be close but I imagine yet another Socialist Dem or RINO Senator would be sent back to DC counterbalanced by a bona fide Republican.

So the end result would not solve any of California’s current problems but rather (best case scenario) double them!

Rural, ag based economies will still be trodden over by urban interests with their overwhelming voter majorities.

I’ve lived in California all my life and have worked all up and down the Late Great Golden State.  I know the people and the lay of the land and I feel a two state solution would serve the people and the nation far better.  By slightly modifying the same map, nudging the blue up the coast to San Francisco…viola  Aztlán! Then we simply unify NoCal and SoCal.

Oh sure Marin County would howl… and we would probably have to frog march all the unionized State employees in Sacramento over the border into Contra Costa County but this would work.

It would work because Sacramento, Fresno and Bakersfield combined with dozens of smaller cities north of the Grapevine would have enough voter clout to compete with Orange and San Diego counties.  It would work because San Diego County still values drinking water above gaia worship.

Stuff My Dad Said

My father passed away suddenly yesterday. He would have been 87 next month and he lived a full and vigorous life right up until yesterday afternoon.

It has been real rough for us but I’m buoyed by knowing the last thing he wanted was a prolonged illness and creeping death. I give thanks that my brothers and sister and I all got to spend good time with him last week. My last words to him were “I love you Dad”.

He’s gone ahead and we are going to miss him terribly after this all sinks in. There are so many memories.

Like the time back in the 80’s when we were in Bakersfield eating breakfast at the Denny’s over by Buck Owens’ place. Our waitress was a real pretty young lady and Dad was always a shameless flirt.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat cringing in a booth while Dad chatted up shapely women half his age. But not this time, he was a perfect gentleman. Maybe it was because the waitress’s name was Becky… I mean how can you be rude to a nice young lady named Becky?

The reason I remember her name was Becky so vividly is because after she had poured our last cups of coffee and was out of earshot, Dad looks at me and simply says “and there were three of them” which of course was totally inappropriate and so out of left field but delivered in such a spot-on Kenny Rogers impression that I just burst out laughing. Uncontrollably laughing.

Now I was the one being an asshole but I couldn’t quit which of course made Dad start laughing and we both sat there stuck in  a feedback loop laughing ourselves to tears.

God I miss him.

 

Texas Daughter

Funny the stuff that sticks with you.  Our daughter Mischa has a blog now and we’ve been checking it out and talking about how proud we are of her. She’s really become a bit of a Punk/fashionista and I wondered how exactly that happened as I’d always thought of her as my little tomboy.

Not so long ago we were riding around the Sierras in my truck listening to Pantera and the next thing I know, she has a husband, three kids, a mortgage and… turquoise hair.

How the heck did this happen?  Well through the wonders of YouTube, I’ve been able to go back to the exact moment when Mischa caught the “Wild Hair”.  She was maybe six or seven and we were watching Mary Chapin Carpenter and Shawn Colvin sing a Lefty Frizzell song on TV. ‘Shelly starts commenting on Colvin’s sun dress and combat boots. Soon, over her mother’s protestations she was rocking the same look. Viola! Coolest kid in the first grade.

Oh well, mama tried.