Happy Holidays

Christmas usually brings images of festive lights, decked out trees, egg nog, and good cheer. There is good cheer, right?

Seems some have missed the memo and are trying for the grinch of the year award.

The craziest arguments and general negative comments I’ve been seeing the last couple years and it has already reared its ugly head this year is “Merry Christmas” versus “Happy Holidays”.

Seriously? You fools feel the need to still argue over this? Its a diverse world out there and if someone wishes to offer a Merry Christmas (Happy Kwanzaa, Channukah, etc) accept it with grace! Have you seen the world out there or watched the news recently? We need all the well-wishes we can get rather than get our panties in a bunch about them.

On the flip side – if someone wishes you a Happy Holidays don’t jump on them for “removing Christ from Christmas”. Its not some huge conspiracy to knock Christians down. The world is diverse and Christianity does not have a monopoly on this time of year so some may use that term when their beliefs are different than yours or they are not sure what your beliefs are. Or very simply the may be lumping Thansgiving through New Years in their comment. Nothing to spaz over – its very unChristian-like behavior to say the least.

Not to mention the term is no way new and its been around for years. Unless Bing Crosby was part of the conspiracy?

Happy holidays and enjoy one of my favorite Christmas songs. Remember to focus on what is important and not petty arguments.

Feral Horses and Ignorant Fools

Sorry folks for such a delay between postings, but my life has been rather hectic.  I hope as the heat of summer hits and as I find myself inside hiding in the air conditioning that my frequency of posting will increase along with it.

Today I came across such ignorance that I couldn’t avoid saying something about it.

Now I love mustang horses and what they represent, and while the way they are managed is controversial there is a right and wrong way going about making change.  Well this bloody idiots method is the wrong way – hands down.


Now I don’t know much about the feral pigs so I will with hold comments on those, but the feral horses I do know a bit about.  And one thing I do know and I thought it was rather common knowledge among any United States Citizen (and even most non-citizens) with at least half a brain is that the wild/feral horses are protected.  Well I was just proven wrong.

Or maybe I wasn’t – I did say “with at least half a brain.”

This ignorant fool not only talks about how they carry for “bastard” strangles (while some may carry strangles as its common enough even in domestic horses – “bastard” strangles is a complication of such rather than a separate strand to be carried for) but he also talks about how all wild horse activist claim there should be nothing in place for population control.  Really?  I know there are a few out there that claim that, but most I know of are looking at more humane methods of such other than gathering them in with stressful helicopters.

But the icing on the cake was this proudly displayed picture of the pure ignorant trash. I’ll just keep the rest of my thoughts on this particular picture to myself or else I will stray from words that are appropriate for this venue.

Now some of the comments stated below his blog post seem to indicate that some believe only BLM branded horses can’t be touched and any others are fair game.  Seriously?  Even if the horses weren’t protected, any hunter should know you can’t just go shooting animals any time you feel like it.  Even common deer require licensing and the proper season.  And last I knew – there was not a wild/feral horse season.  Besides, the BLM only brands horses after they are captured and brought in.  The horses are still protected while free-roaming and its not just while they are on public lands either.

The Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burro Act of 1971 specifically states:

“If wild free-roaming horses or burros stray from public lands onto privately owned land, the owners of such land may inform the nearest Federal marshal or agent of the Secretary, who shall arrange to have the animals removed. In no event shall such wild free-roaming horses and burros be destroyed except by the agents of the Secretary.”


“(a) Violations; penalties; trial.
Any person who-

(3) maliciously causes the death or harassment of any wild free-roaming horse or burro, …

(6) willfully violates a regulation issued pursuant to this Act, shall be subject to a fine of not more than $2,000, or imprisonment for not more than one year, or both. Any person so charged with such violation by the Secretary may be tried and sentenced by any United States commissioner or magistrate designated for that purpose by the court by which he was appointed, in the same manner and subject to the same conditions as provided for in section 3401, title 18.
(b) Arrest; appearance for examination or trial; warrants; issuance and execution.”

So while he gladly calls Liberals ignorant, the irony is the amount of ignorance he shows by posting a photo of his own criminal act.

Twisted quote for the day…

“Sometimes when one door closes, the rest of the building crumbles down around your arse so you really didn’t need the door anyways.”



This twisted little piece came to me after discussing yet another divorce of a friend, and the impending collapse of the life they had built with their chosen person.  No matter if it is completed peacefully or with war – havoc is always at the heals of the big D.

One can just hope that when the dust finally settles that the removal of the walls will open up new sights and paths for the survivors and potentially more stable building grounds.  Unfortunately for some, there is a shyster intent to keep stirring the dust, rubble, and whatever else they can get their hands on so those new grounds can’t peacefully be found.

The Ever Present Black Box

Imagine sitting in your favorite restaurant, the waitress has just brought your ice cold drinks and a basket of nice warm rolls, and you are all settled in for an enjoyable evening with your family.

You glance over and see your child staring up at you with the most adoring eyes ever.  He idolizes you obviously because you were so generous to bring him along and you puff up your chest and give the little tike a smile and wink.

The adoring eyes don’t even give off a flicker of acknowledgement to your wink and you swear there is a dribble of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth in his now apparent zombie state.  Your brow creases in concern because obviously there is something wrong with the kid. Did he get into some poison?  Did his sugar drop?  Does he have a fever?  Did he over medicate with his pills?  Oh wait…that last one would be a concern if it was Gramps there and not your son.

As you lean towards him with your hand extended to feel his forehead, he responds!  Glory day!  Except its to give you a horrible glare as he bats your hand out of his line of sight.  That is when you realize his look of total adoration isn’t for you but someone behind you.  You slowly turn in your seat, dread clutching your stomach, and it hits you full force.

A big yellow square man who lives in the bottom of the sea has followed you to your quiet evening away.  You are stuck living with him at home and you come to the horrible reality that you can’t escape him in public either.  Nowhere is safe!

Who the hell decided putting a television in a restaurant was a good idea – let alone put it on mindless dribble?

It struck me one day while we were at a Chinese restaurant, televisions rule our world.  There was a time when you could go sit down to dinner and enjoy it in peace.  Maybe some background music to create the atmosphere, but otherwise it was you, good food, and good company.  Now that ever present square black box is also an uninvited guest.

At this particular restaurant we were seated in the middle of the place and there were two televisions.  One showing graphic scenes of a bad accident (always a good companion to a meal) and the other on a popular children’s show.  Both had their volumes high enough that we could hear the competing dialogs.  Then to add to this lovely compilation of racket was the Chinese music in the weird instrumental tones that usually make me want to sleep but at this point just put my teeth on edge.  It was enough to kill one’s appetite.  I remember despising the food, but at this point I still don’t know if it was really the food or just the horrible atmosphere.   I do know I won’t be going back.

This was a one-time incident, correct?  I assumed so.  I mean the only places that typically have TVs are sport bars, right?

Wrong, so so utterly wrong.  They are every where.  Every sit-down restaurant I have been to since has had them.

So I ask you, has the television really become so central to our society that we need them everywhere?  Have they become our big pacifiers, there to comfort and sooth us through life to the point we can’t enjoy ourselves without them?

We go out to eat and anticipate the company and good food but instead spend our time mindlessly shovel food in our mouths while we stare at the boob tube.  Then we wonder where the time went as we scrape our plates clean.  We assume we liked the food because we finished it and figure we are just getting old because our memories are so poor we can’t remember the discussions we thought we just had with our friends.

I wonder what restaurants would think if customer’s shut off the televisions before sitting down to enjoy their meals.  Would they get the hint?  Maybe its time to shut those black boxes off.

Hello world!

Hello world – or more specifically – whatever poor Joe Shmoe that ended up on this page.  Not sure how you found it, but welcome anyways!

Now I’m sure you are wondering – why the name?  Is it because I’m some drunkard who is always on a binge?  Not at all, though I’m not making any promises that I won’t be good and sloshed a time or two while blogging.  It just happens to be an idiom that makes me laugh.  I mean seriously – a drunk skunk?  Pity us if there ever was one of those creatures around.  Jumpy beasts at the ready to spray when he is sober.  But drunk?  He would be doing it just for the hell of it and the rest of us would pay the bloody price with our noses.  Unlike the stench of frat boys the morning after a big party, the stench of the striped fella would haunt us for weeks.

As to what this blog is about – anything that strikes my fancy.  Rants, politics, idiot people, random musings, or just pure fantasy.  It may go anywhere.