Bar Story: Hiring a radical.

 

Years ago while still in the bar business, I was looking to hire a doorman.  We filled a lot of our positions with seasonal, transient help.  Sometimes they were here for a season and other times they would stay around for years.

My co-manager interviewed a guy briefly and asked him to come back and talk to me.  The co-manager briefed me on this individual.  Said he was ex-military, honorably discharged with the correct paperwork and seemed to be a guy we could work with.

A day or so later, this man walked in and introduced himself.  We sat and had a conversation and with the co-managers approval we decided to give this guy a go.

Initially, things went well!  This guy was on time and he showed up every day.  He kept to himself mostly, but on occasion would have an after shift and he and the co-manager would talk about the Army.  One day the co-manager said to me, "I think there is something up with this guy."  I asked what he meant and his answer was kind of vague.  "I don't know what it is.  I regard to the Army, he's been there and done that.  He knows a couple of the bases I was on, what happens there and the terrain around those bases.  But there is something there."  The only thing I added was, "He's a little less open than most of the people we hire."

About 2-2.5 months go by.  This guy had earned his spot but the co-manager and I kept an eye on him.  There was something there and we couldn't figure it out.  This would all change in the coming week.

A gentleman approached me at the front door.  This guy was wearing a suit.  He flashed a badge and asked if this particular guy worked for me or just frequented the place.  I said that he worked there and had been a good employee ever since hiring on.  The gentleman thanked me, said we would be back in touch and to do him a favor and not tell anyone about our brief meeting.  

I did tell the co-manager about this meeting.  Old John had a way of wrinkling his brow and rubbing his chin whiskers when he knew something was fishy.  "I knew there was something going on.  What else did the guy ask you?"  I told him, "The guy said he would be back in touch."  

A couple of days go by.  The weekend was upon us.  Our 2 busiest nights of the week.  It's best to have all hands on deck.  The gentleman in the suit came by.  He asked if the gentleman that he had inquired about days earlier was on.  I told him "No, but I expect him in within the hour."  Again the guy thanked me and walked out.  I glanced at John and pointed out the door.  He saw the man and again wrinkled his brow and rubbed his chin whiskers.

This guy comes in.  Walks right by me and says, "Hey Boss, I'll clock in and free you up on the door."  I thanked him and he was on his way to the time clock.  The man in the suit came in and posted up by me.  Another gentleman walked by us and towards the time clock.  2 uniformed officers that I knew came in and the suit guy walked towards the back of the building.  I asked what was up and the uniform guys told me, "You've got a bad egg in the bunch."

At about this point, the young man came up from down stairs.  The suit guy and the other guy met him at the top of the steps.  Another guy who had been in the bar walked over as well.  All of a sudden, they had my doorman cuffed and were walking out of the bar.  I asked my guy what was up and his parting words were, "Sorry, but these guys will have to explain it."

I walked over to John and said, "Well, we are looking for a new doorman, I guess."  I told him that I didn't have information but that the suit guy (FBI) would be back to debrief me/us.

Later that evening, the suit guy came back.  He informed me that this individual was part of an eco-terror group and he was personally responsible for personal injuries to people in logging crews, numerous counts of arson and potentially murder!  He had warrants out of Washington, Oregon and I believe Oregon.

Up to this point, I thought Old John and I were pretty good at vetting out the off color guys.  Yeah, we hired some bad eggs but nothing like this guy!  This guy, his demeanor and everything else had us fooled.  The law had been looking for this guy for some time and they somehow managed to trace hi9m to Jackson, Wyoming and then the Cowboy Bar.

The suit guy told me that, "The group was originally a eco-warrior group who mostly kept to themselves but would protest logging and maybe block roads into tracts of land that were to be legally logged.  Then they started "spiking" trees and committing arson, mostly burning equipment but then resorted to burning large tracts of land that were to be logged."

It all seemed so foreign to me.  Here was a guy who was as eco-friendly as you could get.  Why would he light the forest on fire when it was the forest and all of its critters that he was trying to protect?  The guy told me, "they don't want anyone to profit off of lumber sales, so they target lumber companies and the land that they intend to cut."

Well, that problem was out of my hands.  John and I talked about that for months.  One of the local cops came by and told me more about the group, that is original founders flew the coop once they became "radicalized".  He also mentioned the term "cult".

I think this is the first time I heard the term "radicalized cult" in the same sentence.  I wondered how groups like this found members.  I mean, this was a guy who went to work for Uncle Sam in the US Army and now he is out there ruining American lives and livelihoods.  

I hadn't thought of this in probably 25 years or more until the other day when a former friend asked me if I thought he was in a cult.  I hadn't done in-depth studies on cults and I also had not hung around this "friend" in many, many years.  I told him, "I don't know who you are running around with.  I don't know what you are doing.  If you exhibit certain behaviors on a consistent basis it could easily be assumed that you are in a cult."  My former friend called an end to the friendship right then and there.  No conversation, no explanation.  End of the friendship as I said, right then and there.

So I started thinking.  I know 3 people that were in cults.  The guy above who was lighting shit on fire and two other people who were in more of a "religious" cult.  I was much closer to one of the two individuals, so I spoke to that person about their time in the cult.  How they got recruited?  Where things went wrong... I mean these two people were "professional" people in good fields.  Smart people by every account and they too fell into this.  

Now, I need to know more.  The wife and I watched a documentary on a cult that was called "The Buddhafield".  I think it was on Netflix.  If you've got an hour and a half or so, I suggest watching it.  The story is so crazy!  I mean, "you can't make this shit up" kind of crazy and some very intelligent people fall into the cracks around these things.  It doesn't make sense to me.

Now, I am going to spend some time going down the rabbit hole of cultism and try to learn more.  I don't know where we go from here, but if you have information or personal stories about cults, I'd love to hear them.  You can catch me here easily, we can exchange email addresses and talk that way.

Please, be safe and be good to other people.  Hopefully we can all find comfortable land to stand on and do things together.

Hippy closing:  Peace! 

Times, they are a changing!

Howdy Fuckers!

I hope everyone is off to a great start today.  Things here at the ranch are about as good as they can be.  No fires in the immediate vicinity but I do have some tall pasture grass that I have to get knocked down this week before it catches fire.

I'm still trying to recover from shoulder surgery.  The good news is, my therapist did some awful PT witch craft shit to my arm, like nowhere near where the surgery took place and I'll be damned if the wing didn't have a positive reaction!  I'm tickled shitless.  This one has been a bitch of a recovery.  I'm probably getting a little cocky but I am going to ask Dr. Haas if I can get out and fish.

Anyhow, that ain't why I'm writing.  You never know when inspiration will strike.  Today it stuck me while looking at social media and checking emails.  I saw something that hit me a little different.

 

Look at this kid!  We don't even beat off like we used too back in the old days.  I mean, what in the hell went wrong with the old way.?  Good grief...  A little lubrication (or not if you're frisky and in a rush) and a little motivation and shazaam!  Way back in the day, the Sears Catalog was jerk fodder.

Not this guy.  Something went wrong way before he stuck his schnitzel in a god damned hornet hive!  This is not, nor can it be the normal progression of masturbation.  It just can't be!  Seriously, how do we go from regular masturbation to this?  No steps in between?  No barbed wire oven mitt with Crisco?  No hand full of crushed glass with hand sanitizer?  Straight to the hornet hive???  Come on, man.

Here's a guy so committed to his craft that he bypassed a partner.  Yeah, no having sex with a partner.  Straight to the hornet hive.  This act leads to a lot of questions.  Did you paint your pecker to look like a big bee?  Smear some honey on that thing?  Why a hornet hive and not an ant hill or something?

Look, man.  I believe we should all be allowed to do whatever we want in private as long as it doesn't harm anyone else.  I've never been an advocate for hornets.  I don't like them at all, but when I say "FUCK HORNETS",  this is not what I mean!

Here we are living in this crazy ass world.  As fucked up as it is, we laugh, joke or cry about our current state of affairs and this go getter comes up with "I'm going to hump a hornet hive."  It doesn't get any more fucked up or funny than that!  

So what's next for this kid?  No shit, where do you go from here?  You have to think that this kid has been through farm animals, midgets with a stutter, the dumpster at the truck stop.  

This kid is a minor.  His folks know about this.  His grandparents know about this.  His whole school, the whole town knows about this!  I don't think you come back from something like this.

Maybe the guy had a grudge against his genitals.  If you have male genitalia, take a quick look at it.  This is, without a doubt, one of the ugliest physical attributes on the planet.  You've got this messed up turkey neck accompanied by a couple of walnuts covered in chicken skin.  I don't like my genitals that much, but I don't hate them enough to stick them in a god damned hornet hive!  Can you dye your pubes or give it a perm?  For Christ's sake kid...  

Epstein Files:

 

The Epstein Files: The unwanted gift that keeps giving.  I don't want this to come off as a political post.  Rape and human trafficking are not political topics until a politician is implicated.  We've got to take politics off the table.  There are many crimes out there that are absolutely awful.  Rape, child molestation and human trafficking rank near the top.  I think we can all agree on that.

Survivors of crimes like these bear the scars for the rest of their lives.  Some can't live with the fact and take their own lives in order to avoid humiliation.  One young lady who mustered the strength to tell her story during the court case did just that.  She took her own life leaving behind 3 children and a husband in the aftermath.  

A lot of the talk surrounding this particular case suggests that there are a lot of "financially influential" people that could be on this list, as if that matters.  We've been told that releasing the files could be devastating for some and it should be!  It should cost them everything and they should be reminded on a daily basis what kind of a fucking creep they really are.

Does it matter that there could be political figures involved?  I guess that would depend on whom you ask.  Personally, politicians work for us.  They aren't the boss.  They do not get to hide behind their position.  They are not too important to not be punished.  They are not above the law.  Billionaires?  Same.  No amount of money changes this.  A creep is a creep and some are wealthier than others.

I believe that releasing the list in its entirety will cause an absolute shit storm, but I think its a storm we all can weather.  I think that we will find some really nefarious people in a lot of different "shot calling" positions and will open the door and expose more criminal activity related to this case.  One can only guess at this point, but I'd bet the farm on this looking even uglier once we dig into it.

First we were told that there is a list.  We were allowed to stew on that for a while.  It went away and it came back a few times.  Then we were assured that there was a list.  We were told by the AG herself that the list was on her desk and that we "needed to be prepared" for the release of the list, and then we were told that there is no list.  Does this not sound like a cover up to you?

"Pizza-gate" was an unfounded political attack.  The only thing I can think of that is even remotely as fucked up as being a perp in crimes like these is to be innocent but accused of these crimes.  "Pizza-gate" was a political assassination attempt.  All of the claims were unfounded, but I don't think anyone forgot about it.  I think the underlying reason for that is... "What if?"  What if prominent elected officials were implicated?  What if billionaires were implicated?  What if uber successful business people, scientists, sports figures or anyone else a person could admire were on that list?  Why would that make any difference?

One last paragraph that will mention politics.  I don't give a half of a hairy rats ass who is on that list.  Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, scientists, sports figures, business men, it doesn't matter.  Let's get the list, publish the list in its entirety and get the judicial system to go to work like it is supposed to.  Prosecute the shit out of these people.  Make an example out of them.  Nobody is too big, too important to not be punished for this shit.

That leads me to this.  Our judicial system.  What a fucking garbage fire this organization is.  So many times we have dragged 18 year old kids into court for dating their high school sweetheart.  Something goes amiss with the relationship.  Mom and dad call the law, Kid is arrested... does time and gets to register for the rest of his (or in some circumstances her) life as a registered sex offender.  No matter where he/she goes in life, they have to register on the sex offenders list for life in some circumstances.

What were talking about here is remarkedly different.  Not even the same ball park.  Were talking about dirty ass old men having sex with children.  I don't care who they are or what they do.  I don't care what they've done for society.  Anyone who commits an act as heinous as this deserves to have the book thrown at them and be served shit soup for the rest of their existence.  And if they take the Epstein road out.... so be it.  If someone in the prison system helps them on their way, I would say that this is the cost of business.  

Unfortunately, I know too many people who have been affected by acts like this.  So many of them have gone through years of therapy to try to find a way through this.  Most of them have found a way to put on a brave face and trudge forward.  Others aren't as lucky.  Either way, this is with the survivors for the rest of their lives.  It not only affects them but their families, friends and other loved ones have to struggle to get through this.

So that leads me to this.  Where does the conversation stop and the action takes place?  We can talk about this shit all day and it leaves us in the same position without any action!  If we don't start here, where? When? What are we doing?  When is enough, enough?

What are we supposed to do?  Remaining quiet about this because of a political figure or otherwise is unacceptable.  Period, end of the discussion.

Back to a point I made earlier.  There are going to be people on this list that we wish were not on the list.  Will their families also be devastated?  More than likely, and that is unfortunate on another level.  Now these people will have to somehow find their way through the rest of their lives.  These are survivors of another sort often with the same ends.  Depression, crushing anxiety unfairly labeled and unfairly acted out against....  these people too will unrightfully suffer.

We can do better, folks.  We need to do better.  

For the record, I want this to be my last post about anything of this magnitude.  I'd rather try to be funny.  Humor has gotten me through a lot of shit in my days and although I can find shreds of humor in this attempted cover up and deflection, I'd rather this list just be released and have a real justice department go after and hold the bad people accountable.  Both sides have asked for accountability.  Both sides have asked for transparency.  We've had none of that.  Let now be the time.

Crash Test Dummy for the Sheriff's Office

 

Good morning everyone!  Happy July whatever day it is.  It's been about 2 months since I last wrote.  I hope everyone is safe and sane.  I bring up sanity for a reason.  I've been called "crazy" more than a few times.  I'm not crazy.  I've done some silly shit in my days and that is what this one is going to be about.

The title is not misleading.  It is not referring to my days of running in demolition derbies.  (That shit is an absolute blast though.  The Sheriff wouldn't trust me with one of their vehicles even though I have a stellar driving record.)  The Sheriff's Department needed a bad guy so they could practice some of their cool shit on.

At the time, I knew the Chief of Police and every officer on their staff.  I also knew the Sheriff, the Under Sheriff and everyone on their staff including dispatchers and jailers.  We were that small of a town, and I was employed in the bar business at the time.  Correspondence with these 2 departments was often.  I had a good report with them, was good friends with the leader of the SWAT team and they figured it would be fun for all of us to get together and they could kick the shit out of me.  

Naturally, I had to sign a waiver releasing them from any liability in the event that I would get injured.  I was assured that in most events, I would be issued state of the art safety equipment.  Face guards, throat guard, gloves, chest protector and a cup.  Apparently sometimes you might get hit, kicked or shot in the ding-ding.  Having played baseball for many years, I understood that a cup only kind of worked but somehow felt more secure with the other safety gear.

Now, I need to back track a little bit here.  My good buddy Tripp Wilson was the Armorer for the Sheriff's Department.  I was taking a couple of courses in order to obtain my concealed weapon permit.  Tripp got me into another class that was called "Less Lethal" and it was put on by the professionals at the S.O.

When you think "less lethal", think of hand to hand combat, tasers and bear spray.  I knew some really cool chokes and arm/wrist locks well before this class and I had been in my fair share of fist fights thanks to that old demon alcohol, which I was a willing purveyor of.

So during this class, we discussed these other "less lethal" options and their applications.  At the end of day 1, we got the opportunity to taste pepper spray.  Yeah, it's not great.  We were standing in a semi circle, another friend of mine was in charge of the can and let us know that he was going to discharge the OC gas in our faces.  About this time, he lets it fly.

Everyone starts gagging, coughing and bitching and moaning.  Me and this guy on the end are just standing there laughing.  I looked at him and said, "Did you get any of that?"  He laughed and replied, "Not a drop."  That was an awful thing to say.  Alan John stepped up to us and gave us an up-close introduction to bear spray.  All of a sudden we were coughing, laughing, bitching and moaning.  

The started escorting people to the decontamination facility and this other dude and I were last.  We got to "simmer" for a few minutes longer.  Afterwards we gathered for a conversation.  As you can imagine, bear spray sucks!  It's designed to stop a grizzly bear from eating your dumb ass.  General consensus... the shit works.  Get a can or two and hide them in your house.  

The nest day was hand to hand combat stuff.  More or less, it was a crash course on a few things you can do to protect yourself.  Some of the stuff I knew.  Some I didn't, so I stood in and let my deputy buddies crank on me.  That was fine and dandy.  Some of the stuff those guys knew was pretty nifty!

The 3rd day we were going to discuss tasers.  And by discuss, I mean that my buddy Tripp told the guy who was doing the taser demonstration that I was willing to donate my body to science.  Sgt. Adams pulled out his taser and began to describe how it works.  "You can do this, and then you can do this, and in emergencies you can do this and its pretty effective.  Does anyone want to volunteer?"  

Hell no, nobody wanted to volunteer so Ben wasted no time reintroducing me to the class and letting them know that I was "down to ride the lightning"!  Ben said, "You're wearing a nice button down.  If I shoot you with this, 2 fish hooks are going to pierce your shirt and I don't want to mess that up.  I can hook you up to the banana clips.  The downside there is, when I pull the trigger, you are more than likely to get 2 blisters burned into your back."  I chose blisters over ruining a shit.

As Ben's assistants were getting me prepared, Ben was going through what was going to happen.  Honestly, I didn't want to hear it.  And me being me, I thought for sure that I would either pee or shit my pants so I went to the bathroom.  When I came out, it was 'SHOWTIME"!

I don't know what most people do when they get tasered.  It seems like they just topple over and get compliant real fast.  Me?  Oh, I scream the F-Bomb for as long as the taser guy holds the trigger and then fall on my face.  Luckily I had a couple of nice deputies kindly place me on my face.  

Does the taser work?  You're damned right it does.  I don't recommend it.  Short circuiting your Fruit of the Looms is an awful idea.  Anyhow, after I got my big ass lit up, we had all kinds of takers.  Maybe this is just me, but I loved watching them get the business way more than I enjoyed the act performed on me.

I'm sure some of you more reasonable folks are thinking, "Probably time to quit hanging out with the cops.  They keep fucking you up!"  And they did, but the best thing in the world was about to happen to me next.  Simunition rounds....  Good news is, I was going to be able to actually shoot at cops with the highest power paint ball guns in the market.  The bad news is, those bastards were going to be shooting back!  Worse news... some of them are pretty good shots.

Anyhow, I show up and am outfitted with that state of the art protection gear.  The helmet and face guard barely fit because I have a giant head, but it fit.  Gloves, a size too small but they appeared to work.  Throat protector just kind of dangled from the face mask.  I held little confidence that it would be sufficient but I'll be damned if it didn't hold up!

The chest protector... Imagine Shrek wearing a child's catchers chest protector.  I looked like 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag.  Love handles sticking out of the sides, shoulders totally exposed but this thing was a go and I couldn't puss out now!

As per usual, we went through a safety briefing.  I was then issued a .40 caliber., a couple of magazines and simunition rounds.  We double checked and triple checked everything at least 2 times.  As I sat there watching these guy load up, they were smiling.  .223 cop guns.... bastards had lights (this was at night), state of the art night time optics.  It was obvious that this was not going to be a fair gun fight.  

I sat there with my heavily used .40 Glock.  All I knew was that I was going to get a few off.  What in the world could be better than this.  Another safety check and everyone took their places.  I had no idea where these guys were going to come from, so that added a little excitement!

I was sitting there thinking about all of the cool shit I could say when I cut loose with the old smoke wagon.  In this first scenario, I was supposed to be armed and dangerous.  I was told to talk shit and raise hell to the cops.  (This thing kept getting better by the minute.  I was going to be talking mad shit at the cops and shooting at them???)  

Well, your boy starts running his mouth.  I am looking out windows trying to locate the good guys.  Im yelling shit like "Donut shop is closed fuckers!  Get your ass out of here."  I was being encourage by my buddy Tripp.  "No, let them have it!" he said.  I started calling them "Barney Fife" and "shit-iots" .  (That's just an idiot that starts with shit... its the best I could come up with regarding the circumstances.)

Then all hell broke loose.  Flash bang went off, I ran into a wall, got shot about 15 times.  Got cuffed and sat in a ant hill while they cleared the rest of the building.  I was telling this buddy of mine that he sat me in an ant hill.  He kept telling me to shut up because I was supposed to be dead.  Then he realized that I was indeed sitting in ants and not just messing with him.  He moved me.  They cleared the building and then we reconvened.  

I got shot about 9 times in the head/face, a couple in the chest protector and a couple of times in the hands.  None of it hurt.  I didn't have time to even squeeze one off.  We laughed, cleaned up and got ready for the next drill.

Tripp tells me, "I need you to get as rowdy as you can.  Try to rattle these guys.  I need to see how they do under pressure and you being a dick is going to add to that pressure.  Let them have it.  Let them have it all this time!  You ready?"  My answer, "Hell yeah, baby!"

And, I thought I was.  There was a lot more dialogue before the shooting started.  I was talking to the negotiator.  "Get these fucking cops out of here.  I see that asshole hiding in the boat.  Move his ass or I'll shoot."  Negotiator keeps after me.  I lay in with the "I smell pork" comment and added, "Call your girlfriends off, because if I come out of here, I am going to fuck em all up!"

I'm delighted with my commentary.  Talking shit to cops while your holding a gun.... and its legal?  Holy shit!  Negotiator comes back with something like, "Now, we don't want anyone to get hurt.  That isn't our job.  Lets continue our discussion and see if we can safely get this all figured out."  I holler back, "Fuck that!  I've had about enough of his shit." 

I walk out of the building with my pistol raised.  I say, "The first pig I see, I am going to shoot."  I saw movement and touched one off.  

I can't really explain what happened next.  All of the training I've ever had suggested that talking shit to cops isn't smart.  Shooting at cops was going to be way worse than that.

A hail of bullets came from every side.  I dumped my magazine at everything moving.  I think I hit one guy.  The key for them to quit shooting was for me to hit the ground.

I can't figure out why I stood there so long.  I got shot everywhere.  I got shot in the left nipple.... not man boob, but straight up nipple!  That fucker hurt.  I got hit in both love handles and those felt like they were raking my fat with concertina wire.  I got shot in the ass crack.  There isn't a protection device for any of these things.  Both hands got lit up.  I took too many to the head and way too many in the shins and torso.  Safe to say, had this been real life, I wasn't going to be limping home..

When the smoke cleared, we reconvened.  Those dicks were awful proud of their handy work.  Me, I was pretty impressed.  I wouldn't have waited for me to talk shit before I opened fire.  That's why they are cops and I ran a bar.

In the end, it was a ton of fun.  If I were 30, I'd do this again in a minute!  I ain't 30 anymore.  I have aches and pains all over the place and don't need "practice poke holes" in any part of my body.  I did enjoy helping those guys out and seeing what they are capable of.  If any of those guys are reading right now, if you want me, just come get me.  I ain't going for none of that cop shit again.  Just ask me to give up and I am in.

As I look back, I don't know what's wrong with me.  I'm sure this shit above didn't help matters much.  It was a hoot however. To all of the cops that participated that night....  bastards!!!!  You fuckers need a smaller target.  Quit shooting fat bastards.  

Hey, thanks for reading folks.  I am going to start putting more stuff out on a more regular basis.  I hope you guys have a great weekend. 

Shoulder Surgery Recovery

 

Oh man, it's been a while since I've been on this thing.  I hope everyone is doing well.  We've got a hell of a day on tap here!  Sun is shining, supposed to be around 70 degrees.  I'm not sur3e it can get much better around these parts.  So if you're up and around, get out and capture some of that Vitamin D!  I need me some of that!

So anyhow, I come to you today with an update of sorts.  I had my7 right shoulder repaired back on February 19th.  Complete rotator cuff repair, they also relocated my bicep tendon, got rid of some bone spurs and cleaned out all kinds of arthritis around the labrum.... whatever that shit means.

If you're in line for a shoulder surgery, I'd like to offer you a bit of advice.  First of all, the surgery isn't bad.  Why?  They knock your ass smooth out, and if you're a lucky sort like I was, they hit you with the bonus nerve block.  If they offer the nerve block, take it.  

The first couple of days are a real peach.  You'll be higher than a giraffe's ass and you are going to forget some shit.  Have a competent individual around to make sure you're taking your pain pills on schedule.  That shit is critical!  

Almost every  time the wife came out to administer more pain meds every 4 hours, I was awake.  You just can't really get comfortable.  Real sleep is almost impossible.  You get a lot of 1-2 hour naps and that kind of sucks.  So, one day, since I was sleeping, I didn't get my meds.  The doctor will tell you that "sleep is important".  Guess what?  Not as important as those pain pills!

I arose to this incredible pain.  I've never felt anything like it.  I sat there for about 10 minutes wondering what in the hell I did in my sleep to cause this.  I'm not going to say that I was contemplating ending it all, but if I would have died, I don't think I would have given a shit.  It was miserable.

Oh, speaking of shit, the pain pills they give you will likely plug you up.  I did my left shoulder in 2023.  Everything about that surgery was great!  Pain was totally under control.  I did not get constipated and when I did go #2, I could easily take care of business afterwards because I was right handed.  

This go around was a bit different.  As I mentioned, I am a "righty".  Everything I have ever done besides swing a baseball bat or caught a baseball has been done right handed.  Now, my right arm was in a sling, it had been a week since I dropped the kids off at the pool and all of a sudden, it was GO TIME!

After a week of not going, I knew this was going to be a work of art.  Half way through my bowel movement, it hit me.  "You've got to wipe your ass left handed."  I sat there looking at my left hand.  It clearly wasn't up to the task.  58 years on this planet and my left hand has been nowhere near my ass.  I thought, "How is this going to go down?"  

The answer to that is, poorly.  It went poorly.  Here's the thing about my left hand.  It has no depth perception.  Your off hand has no business messing around the under carriage.  None.  But, the deed was done and there was no way in hell that I was going to ask the wife for assistance.  I promise I will die before that happens.  So, there we are.  First attempt, I think I just wiped my back.  Not useful since I don't shit out of the middle of my back.  Second attempt I thought, "Holy shit!  This guy is aggressive!  I wish I had given myself a "roofie"."  Third attempt, I wasn't sure if I was actually trying to wipe my butt or taste the toilet paper by going in the long way!

I somehow eventually managed to get it done, but I was on the can so long that I put both of my legs to sleep.  As I tried to stand up, both legs at the same time said, "Not now, jackass" and I promptly fell forward on my knees with my head busting a hole in the drywall.  Now I have a broken wall, a concussion and a suspiciously semi-clean ass which didn't seem to important after breaking the wall with my head.

My next thought was, "Holy hell, I am going to have to do this again at some point.  We have a lot of room for improvement."  Thankfully things did improve.  I'm still not convinced that my left hand as gotten any depth perception.  I will say that perhaps ol' lefty is used to the new surroundings that it gets to frequent.  

Anyhow, I told you that in order to tell you this.  I'm 12-13 weeks Post Op.  Physical therapy is going good but I've got a way to go.  I have been told on a couple of occasions that complete recovery is often a year or longer, but the danged thing feels pretty good.  The shoulder, not may ass.  My ass is still on strike for the unfair labor practices of my left hand.  It should not be in charge of anything. ever, especially matters of this magnitude. 

The Power of Music:

 

Good Morning Everybody!

I hope everyone is off to a good start this morning.  I hope your coffee was hot and strong and your mug was full.  Me?  Hell, any time I can wake up and wiggle my toes seems like a set up for a good day.  I'm not so sure how to get around the start of this entry.  Probably ought to just get to the heart of it and start with the title.

Music...  Not sure I know anyone who doesn't like music.  How can you not like music?  There has to be a genre out there for you that means something or the sound just hits you right.  There has to be.  Maybe you have a favorite artist or maybe there is just a type of music that once you heard it, it just grabbed you and never let go.

A buddy of mine is a fan of Chamber Music.  Orchestral type stuff.  Although I find some of it absolutely beautiful, you won't find any of that stuff on my play lists.  It's just not for me.  I can appreciate it, but enjoy?  Probably no.  Mind you, I'm not repulsed by it.

One of my kids loves Dub-Step.  I think that's what it's called.  Do you know what I am talking about?  Its that type of music that sounds like it smells bad...  It sounds like throwing a handful of used parts and broken tools into your clothes dryer and turning it on.  That shit, and he LOVES IT!  I don't get it.  I don't listen to it.  I won't say it bothers me though.  It's just not for me.

My other kid loves K-Pop.  Apparently this is Korean Pop Music.  How he found that is beyond me.  His mother was in the music industry for decades.  Not once did she ever play any of that.  I don't even know if she can identify it.  Doesn't matter.  Not my style and I am not pissed it exists.  Apparently the shit is somewhat popular.  Who knew?

My wife is a hippy.  She loves all music, but mostly hippy shit like Blues Traveler.  Again, not for me.  Too damn squeaky or something.  Sounds like everyone in the band is playing a different song.  But with that said, she really does like all music types.  Between she and I, we introduced our kids to everything we listened too and school music turned them onto stuff they probably never would have heard around the house.

I'm a different duck in this family.  I once told my wife while I was drinking that there "is only 19 good songs".  At the time, I had an IPOD with 19 songs on it and they were all good.  She never forgot that and holds me accountable for saying it.  Looking back, it does sound ridiculous.  There are probably, maybe like 50 good songs out there and the other shit I listen to is only kind of good.

My favorite music is Rock and Roll!  Country, Blues, some Motown stuff.  Even some rap, especially old school.  Something with some emotion.  Something that means something.

So, I reckon I said all of that in order to get to this.  I was listening to the radio this morning while running an errand for work.  I was listening to the local country station.  I contend that country music isn't what it used to be.  I like some of the 90's country from when I was at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar.  There were a lot of good songs from that era.  And harmony... these guys knew something about harmony.  Back then, if you didn't have harmony, you didn't have shit.

Nowadays, I think all new country sounds the same.  It almost doesn't matter who is singing.  Male, female... doesn't matter.  They all sound the same and they are all saying the same shit.  But, there is a guy.  He ain't new.  He's been around for a while, at least long enough to somehow get famous.  Before I go any further I have to say that this "new guy/who ain't new" took a coveted position from whom I thought was the worst of the fucking worst.

Kenny Chesney...  I hated that guy.  The tone of his voice made me want to throw groceries at old people.  I just don't get the guy.  Not sure there is even anything to get.

But the guy I am talking about is Jason Aldean.  I would go on a world tour with Kenny Chesney rather than have to listen to one of Aldean's attempts.  I was in the bar business for nearly 20 years, and in that time I was fortunate enough to meet dozens if not hundreds of really talented people out there giving them hell and trying to make a name for themselves in the industry.  Some of these people had incredible voices.  Some were fantastic song writers.  Some musically were absolutely unreal!  And out of nowhere, this jackoff Aldean shows up and everyone goes wild.  What in the fuck am I not getting???

Imagine if you will, stepping into a porn theater and accidentally putting your hand in a random wet spot.  That is Jason Aldean.  He is the auditory equivalent of accidentally putting your hand in a pile of homeless, degenerate man milk.  He's gross.  He serves no purpose but whenever I hear him, I think about checking the oil in my Jeep.  

Here's the kicker.  So many of the newer guys sound just like him.  They just don't suck as bad.  Dumb ass drum machines... talking about "dirt roads" and not doing certain shit in "his town", cut off jeans and some bow legged ass girl with her feet on your dash.  

I mean, there ain't any fiddle.  Ain't no steel guitar.  No dobro. No harmony. Ain't even a touch of "twang"! None of that!  Anything that ever made country music good is not available in a Jason Aldean song.  It ain't there. 

His lyrics... holy shit.  His songs are written by the same feller that writes songs for that dude who looks like Butthead.  What's his name?  Big ass forehead, receding hair line.... Luke Bryan!  Even Luke Bryan is a stretch better than Aldean!

If a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich was made by a one eyed midget with a broken spork had a sound, it would be Jason Aldean. Jason Aldean is like ketchup on a perfectly cooked rib eye steak.  Gentlemen about my age, have you ever accidentally sat on one of your own balls?  The noise you make when you do is more melodic than Jason Aldean music.

I don't know.  Maybe he is a nice guy or something.  I don't want to shit on this guy, but I feel as if I have too.  To his fans, are you aware that there is other music out there?  I mean, you can go to any Motel 6 with a hot tub and find another soggy ass, puss crusted band aid floating around to try and listen to that.  

Have you ever had a colonoscopy?  Do you remember that first big ass fart you blew when you were coming out of anesthesia?  Pair that fart with a out of tune 3 string guitar and you just wrote an Aldean song.  

Like I said, maybe he's a nice guy.  I wouldn't know.  I don't want to know.  His music killed a part of me that I'll never get back.  This guy is a singing insurance seminar.  

If you like him, please don't tell me.  This is the one thing I cannot know about you.  I'll go as far as to say, liking his music is inexcusable.  If you want to hear something just as good, you can do that armpit fart thing.  At least that is almost amusing.

#399... the Grizzly Bear

 

I have to start off with an apology.  On social media the other day, I said I was going to make one last comment about the bear, what happened, and then put it away.  Unbeknownst to me, an anonymous "fan" called me a few unsavory things.  Not to worry, as I have been called worse things than this crayon using, bicycle seat sniffing, half a popcorn fart could ever come up with.  My feelings aren't hurt but I would like to rehash a few things on the subject.  So, I am sorry that I am at it again.  If anyone has any comments, I would love to address them in private.

Bear #399, a gri8zzly bear that lived most of its life within the friendly confines of Grand Teton National Park became "famous" as she habituated herself to humans.  The constant presence of humans around her allowed her (or them) to relax a little too much, if you ask me.  

What made this bear famous was her legacy.  She unfortunately died at the age of 28 years old, which is a pretty long time for a grizzly in the wild.  There are conflicting accounts of the amount of offspring she had but the numbers are between 18 and 22 according to a couple of different opinions.  She had many multiple births and one such multiple birth included 4 cubs!  Her last cub who was apparently with her at the time of her death had the pet name "Spirit".  Some wildlife managers said that the 1 year old cub stands a good chance of surviving.

Bear #399 made many trips outside of the park venturing many miles south with her cubs in tow, sometimes seen in the vicinity of where she was struck and killed by an automobile.  

Through the years, her popularity grew with the help of a few "famous" photographers, a few more wildlife guides and even a group named after her.  If you were in the park and saw a big group of people seemingly shooting pictures of the unknown with giant ass camera/lens combinations, all you had to do was pull over and ask the question, "What are you all looking at?"

So many times the answer was a resounding "#399 and her cubs".  The longer you stuck around, the better your chances were of seeing her.  By the time she was half famous, people from all over the nation or world for that matter were keen to this bear and her goings on.

Making her more popular were numerous articles, peoples first hand public accounts and even a few documentaries made about her existence.  People were coming to the park from everywhere, just for the opportunity to see her, just once.

Wildlife guides were especially keen to her whereabouts.  I cannot comment on the networking that went on within the competitive market of guiding, but if you saw one commercial outfit near this bear, you saw a dozen!  Every spring, these curious people did all they could to locate #399 and see how many cubs she came out of the den with after a long hibernation.  Then, they would spend the summer snapping photos (for sale) and chronicling this bears life.

It seems somewhat like a disservice to write a few paragraphs about a 28 year stretch.  Simply, this was one bear living amongst an estimated 965 other grizzlies in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.  Some of #399's offspring have become semi-famous as well.  These folks seem to know them.  They don't really, but they act like they do.  They will talk amongst themselves at one of the large gatherings mentioned above and sooner or later a Park Ranger or biologist will confirm which bear it is.

Photography and wildlife tourism is big money, folks.  BIG Money!  Taking tourists on trips to the park to see animals and the professional photographers selling their wares bring millions of dollars to the economies of Wyoming, Montana and Idaho.

As a reference, one of the more famous photographers in the region sells pictures of #399 ranging in price from $355-$895.... for a picture.... of a bear, that looks like every other sow grizzly in the ecosystem.  The kicker is, the name #399 and "her story' just makes these pictures that much more expensive.

Now, I guess I said all of that shit in order to get to this shit.  I feel differently about #399 or bears in general than the aforementioned individuals.  I was brought to up to respect all wildlife.  I was taught to witness from a distance, give plenty of room and not to mess with these wild animals.  The key word there was "wild".  These animals do not belong to a zoo.  They don't belong to anyone.  They, like you are just trying to squeak out a living in one of the harshest landscapes around.  

People have personified #399.  They made her a legend long before she passed, adding what would be considered positive human traits like "friendly" (If I'm not mistaken #399 jacked up a guy around Signal Mountain this summer), "loving mother" and other things equally irresponsible.  

These are animals that we are speaking about.  Bears only know how to be bears.  Bison only know how to be bison.  Neither could ever be human.  As this bear became more popular, there were specific businesses named after her.  I won't name them here in order to not find my big ass in court, but if you are from around here, you've seen them.  I think this is human behavior is dangerous and irresponsible.

Moving forward to the unfortunate accident that ended her life, I've seen comments like "This person should be jailed!"  "This person should be killed!"  'How could this happen in a National Park?"  There are dozens more but none more irresponsible than saying any human should die because of an animals death.  This thing was investigated by law enforcement.  It was found that the driver was driving the speed limit and there was no wrong doing...  That should be the end, but uneducated or otherwise ignorant people are still commenting on a subject that they really know nothing about, other than the bear's legacy and what lies between the veil of fantasy and reality.

We can do better.  I love animals.  I also hunt.  Nearly every one of the hunters I know do hunt ethically.  These people admire all wild animals.  They too were raised to admire from a distance, don't pester or molest wildlife and give them the room they deserve.  If you have a chance encounter with wildlife, remember those rules.  Be respectful and for the sake of all things, quit humanizing animals!  They are not our friends.  We don't know them but we do owe them a modicum of respect.  A bear or nearly any large animal you encounter in the Yellowstone ecosystem can delete you in an instant.  They don't care.  For them, its merely survival and far too often we find ourselves in their back yard.

I've had enough of your time.  If you're still with me here, thanks for reading.  I'll end with this.  I have watched this topic turn into a political conversation as well.  Yes, you heard me right.  Political and both sides have said some real stupid shit.  This in no stretch of the imagination should have included politics.  Politics is one thing and this is something different and should be viewed as such.  Trump couldn't have saved this bear and neither could Harris.  Walz might not know what a bear is, and Vance might have wanted to hump the fucking thing...  

More than 3,000 people a day use the Snake River Canyon where #399 was killed as their commute.  This does not include all of the commercial traffic and tourist traffic.  There are dozens of accidents in the canyon yearly.  A lot of them unfortunately include wildlife.  Bears, mountain lions, wolves, coyotes, beaver, badgers, marmots, ermine, skunks, martins, eagles, hawks, mountain goats, owls and more are hit and killed in that canyon and any of the other roads in the region!  Nobody knows their names.  It is an unfortunate and common thing to have happen in wildlife rich areas where humans also exist.  

Yes, there are plenty of shit drivers on the road but again, this accident was investigated and the driver found not guilty of any wrong doing.  I'm not going to pretend I know the individual that hit this bear, but imagine if it were you.  Imagine if you were the one on your nightly that accidentally hit and killed #399?  Imagine reading and hearing of all of the threats coming your way.  You've got to take emotions out of this.  There was no intent!  This person didn't drive off road and chase the bear down in order to kill it.  Me and my family have all hit animals in the canyon.  Each time it's cost us a lot of money, not to mention the fact that we killed another animal.

Be respectful of wild animals and be respectful to other people.  We are all we got, folks.  Something like this will eventually happen again, and I hope you aren't the person behind the wheel.  And if it does happen to you or you witness an accident like this, please have the wherewithal to know that this wasn't intentional.  Have a bit of compassion.  Offer to help.  

Like many other places in life, we can do better.