…I don’t think it means what you think it means.

I’ve always been labeled, As a rip roarin’ Hell Raisin kind
But you know here lately, I got other things on my mind
Like livin’ and dyin’, and where I’ll spend eternity
What kind of reward Jesus, Have you got out on me?

Yep. ’nuff said.


Down here on earth, There’s a big price on my head
But I’ve got all my friends and my loved ones who’ll cry when I’m dead
And someday we’ll all sing along, From the other side
Cause I’ve heard that everyone’s wanted
Behind your heavenly gates in the sky…

When a feller decides to live his own life, and drop out of the “Nancy Grace School for the kindergarten minded and nanny state” (TIRES AND BAIT AROUND BACK.) death is never far. Don’t let that scare you, just look around. Life in America isn’t a patch to what it was when I was young. That wasn’t very long ago. 9/11 was perhaps instituted, but definitely used to QUARANTINE us.

What kind of reward Jesus, Have you got on me
I wonder how the words on my big, Wanted poster do read
And oh how I’d love to be taken, into your custody
What kind of reward Jesus, Have you got on me?

1.This, if I remember it right, is what’s known as the “Gunfighters Prayer.”

3. I kinda feel bad now, pickin’ on him ’bout fallin’ down a mountain…LMMFAO
4. Told ya I was Irish…

…young buckin’


The Scarlett Johansson letter…

It took me awhile, but I got it. I understand “the opiate of the masses” quote. It isn’t that people are weak, it’s that life is hard. Hope is where you find it.

What does bother me is the club factor. White church, black church. Jew, Gentile. All the descendants of Mitochondrial Eve clamoring for the talking stick.

I know 2 things this morning.

1. Religion itself is one of the best ways to prove evolution.

2. A hundred pound turkey, is a big fucking bird.


3 things.

3. I can’t find my running shoes.

I’m not opposed to the idea of god, really. I just see no evidence of it.

My girlfriend is snoring…right now…in my ear. Grrrrrr….

Where was I? Oh yeah, BUT, what I don’t need is false consolation. There is the line. I don’t NEED to believe something I know isn’t true.

When young, I had friends who covered their eyes to speak. …who carried ‘bankies’. …who even had invisible friends, mostly due to a horrid home life.

They’ve since stopped. As have their children. Won’t you join us?


Some years back I got a wild hair up my butt and decided I needed to see what this whole “power lineman” thing was all about, so I got a job and went to work as a groundman. I learned as much as I could, as fast as I could. Learning to climb, the FR gear, the terrain…

It was a great time, but I’ll save that story.

While working though, I did notice that almost all of the guys I worked with were just simple speaking country boys. Hunters, volunteer “whatever’s” and just good folk in general.

The drinking, drugs and bullshit are just consolation prizes.

But, something to be said for growing up hard. One of the foreman I worked with was about 60. He’d just come back from being laid up…fell out of his tree stand and broke his back.

He told me a story. He went to his shed one morning and found a baby fawn…almost too weak to raise its head. He investigated and found her covered with ticks. They were bad that year, and had all but literally sucked the life from the baby fawn.

Ticks promptly removed, rehabilitation ensued, and now his family was one greater. …touch and go, the first night. Last I heard, she’s fine…fine enough to have to shoo her out of the garden!

I’m telling you boys, Canada and Alaska are looking like the last pieces of heaven extant. I named the baby “oatmeal.”