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Celebrate Earth Day

Posted by Curtal Friar on Tuesday, April 22, 2008 10:19:48 AM
   Man, this is going to be a great day!
 
   Ladies and Gentleman, it is Earth Day 2008!  You can go online and find all kinds of resources and tips for celebrating Earth Day, as well as listen to advice from well respected voices of authority.  For example, you can go to http://ww2.earthday.net/node/80 and listen to speeches from such eminent scholars as Chevy Chase and Kevin Bacon, who will tell you how to live your life in ways they do not so that you can help protect the Earth.
 
   If you're a conservative in full possession of your mental faculties and you're truly sickened by all this green nonsense, then here are some tips for you that will help you to have a truly wonderful Earth Day 2008.
 
   1.  Drive the biggest vehicle you can get your hands on and go everywhere in it today.  Mount a banner on top that reads BEATS WALKING.  If you only possess a small car, see if a friend will let you use his/her minivan, 1 ton pickup, Hummer, or something equally large and gas guzzling.  Use it for everything, even to go the thirty feet to check your mailbox.  If possible, make sure a liberal eco-freak sees you doing this.  If there are none around, have someone take a digital picture of you in the vehicle with the banner on top, and make sure to provide copies throughout the day to every eco-freak activist you come across.
 
   2.  Wear a t-shirt with the most politically incorrect, anti-ecofreak message you can come up with.  Some potential ideas:  I LOVE MY HUMMER, SAVE THE EARTH AND SHOOT A VEGAN, EAT BEEF, KYOTO IS FOR LOSERS, and SAVE THE EARTH BY LIVING THE WAY AL GORE DOES NOT.  Those are just some ideas I had; I'm sure you can come up with many more from your own imagination.  Whatever you pick, wear it and go everywhere you can so as many people as possible can see you in it.
 
   3.  It seems the liberal, eco-freak, Earth worshipping weirdoes are now advocating we must stop eating beef in order to prevent Gorebull warming.  Apparently, this is because cows account for a much greater source of greenhouse gases than do cars.  So, I propose that for Earth Day, we eat as much beef as possible.  Do it in public so that hopefully at least one eco-freak can see you doing so.  If possible, get the biggest, juiciest, delicious all-beef burger you can find and then go locate one of the various outdoor Earth Day celebrations.  When you get there, find the most likely looking eco-freak and make sure to stand next to him while you eat that burger.  If you can get friends with you, then have them do the same and surround the freak with the succulent smell of beef.  If you can get even one vegan eco-freak to drop what he/she is doing and run down to the nearest burger joint to indulge in the joy of eating meat, then this day will truly be victorious.
 
   4.  Get all your buddies together, make a bunch of anti-Earth Day signs, and exercise your First Amendment rights to free speech by infiltrating the nearest Earth Day celebration.  Make sure to do so peacefully.  When the eco-freaks try to dissuade you with their silly diatribes, just laugh at them.  Or just plain ignore them.  Nothing will get their goat faster than the knowledge that others simply don't care what they have to say.
 
   Above all, have a great day!
 
   DOWN WITH GOREBULL WARMING
 
   EAT BEEF, IT'S GOOD FOR YOU
 
   SAVE THE EARTH, SHOOT AN ECO-FREAK
 
   LMAOATISOL (laughing my a** off at the ignorant stupidity of liberals)
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The Cuckoo

Posted by Curtal Friar on Friday, April 11, 2008 10:41:26 AM

   The cuckoo is an odd type of bird.  Many species of cuckoo will find the nest of another type of bird and lay an egg in that nest.  Invariably, the cuckoo egg will hatch first and the newly emerged chick will proceed to push out all the other eggs, thus destroying the real young of the parent bird.  In spite of that, the parent will feed the cuckoo as if it were its own.  The fact that the cuckoo has destroyed the real family of the bird that built the nest is irrelevant.  The cuckoo is a murderous and parasitic little creature, really.

   I can't help but feel that the story of the cuckoo is a great analogy for our time.
 
   America is the nest.
 
   Radical islam is the cuckoo.
 
   Liberals are those who would feed and protect the cuckoo as if it were their own, in spite of the fact that the cuckoo will invariably wreak destruction.
 
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Time For Action

Posted by Curtal Friar on Sunday, March 16, 2008 3:36:07 PM
   This entry will be different from the others I have so far posted to my blog.  Mostly, I will be writing about different heroes and the examples they have set for me and others.  Today, however, I will be addressing the need for action.
   It occurred to me last night, with the help of several other Townhallers, that perhaps it was time to take a real stand against Al Gore and the other prophets of global warming.  For a long time now, he has been proclaiming global warming and blaming modern civilization and technology and all the effects thereof as the culprit.  He has completely ignored statements made by scientists that don't buy into his theories, and that have had their counterarguments published.  Al Gore has refused to attend debates with real scientists who have amassed a wealth of evidence that debunks his global warming fantasy.  Too many people are listening to him, and are closing their ears to anyone who says otherwise.  Corporations are changing policies to try to prevent global warming.  Politicians and interest groups clamor for "green" technology, and in some cases, a reversal of modern development and technology.  They advocate policies that would be extremely detrimental to our economy and society.
   I say that the time has come to stand up and put an end to this nonsense.  The nation stood up and announced its disgust with the Amnesty Bill and was able to get it thrown out.  I say, why wait till a foolish bill or protocol, created to combat the mythical human caused global warming, is about to be introduced before we stand up?  Let's stand up now and let the government, the mass media, hollywood, the interest groups, and especially Al Gore, know exactly how we feel.  Let's make sure he and all the others know that we will no longer tolerate this nonsense.
   Here is what I suggest we do.  Following are some links to articles online that provide arguments against global warming.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The Action Plan:
 
Step 1: 
 
Check out the links above.  Several other regulars at Townhall provided these links to me, and they are all great sources of information that debunks global warming.  It is very likely you know of other sources as well.  Send these links and any other links you are aware of to everyone you know.  Include a short email explaining how you feel about global warming and about how it is important that we take a stand now to stop the likes of Al Gore and similar global warming prophets before the damage is done to our culture and our economy.
 
Step 2: 
 
Email, mail hard copies, fax, and telephone Al Gore himself.  Make him aware of all of these sources of information.  Let's shove the fact that there is a great deal of dissent about global warming right back in his face.  Let's inform him about the fact that NO CONSENSUS HAS BEEN REACHED and that THE DEBATE IS NOT OVER.

Al Gore's official mailing address:
2100 West End Avenue Suite 620
Nashville, TN 37203
   (let's flood his mail with correspondence that debunks global warming)

Al Gore's official fax#: 
615-327-1323.
   (let's fax him our position on global warming and that we think he's full of hot air)
 
Think of how great it would be if we could get ten thousand people to do this.  Better yet, how about ten million?  (why think small?) Let's get the word out!
 
Step 3:
 
Let's do the same thing with our elected representatives.  Start small: hit our mayors/city planners and then move on to county officials and then to state senators, representatives, and governors.  Then let's hit the federal government.  Let's flood Congress with faxes, emails, and hard letters that contain our opinions on global warming.  Make sure to provide sources (the links above and others that you may have) for our congressmen to research.  Let's contact the president as well.
 
In conclusion, I think the time is never better.  Let's not wait until Congress is about to vote on whether or not to accept the Kyoto Accord, or some such provision, as law.  Let's make a preemptive strike now!
 
Who's with me?  Let the campaign begin!!!!
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Frank Wallace's Legacy

Posted by Curtal Friar on Friday, March 14, 2008 10:18:39 AM
   I remember when I met Frank Wallace (name changed to protect privacy).  He was in my AIT (that's advanced individual training for the non-Army folks - it follows basic training and gives you the specific skills to do the job you enlisted for), and I have to say, he was probably the most memorable person in that class.  Frank was the proverbial class clown and the life of the party.  He was always quick with a joke and a laugh, and was friendly to everyone.  Frank was everybody's buddy.
   In December of 1986, our AIT school shut down for the Christmas and New Year holidays.  All those who had leave accumulated were allowed to use it to go be with their families.  Frank flew to Dallas to meet his father, mother and sister.  They were all going to have a good time going to Six Flags (wherever it is in Texas), then to Padre Island to hit the beach.  It sounded like a grand time.
   When vacation time was over, and we all were straggling back in from leave, a few of us, including Frank, were lounging in the day room and swapping stories.  While we were there, we suddenly heard footsteps running up the hall.  A few moments later, the CQ came in, saw Frank, and informed him he needed to go to the Commander's office right away.  Frank and the CQ quickly departed.
   A while after that, Frank came back into the dayroom, and he looked totally crushed.  He sat down on one of the chairs, and the room grew quiet as we all looked at him.   He finally told us that on that particular morning, his family was flying back to their hometown.  The plane and gone down and there were no survivors.  Frank was the sole remaining person in his family.  We asked him what he was going to do, and he told us that the Commander told him to go home, settle all the affairs, take a few weeks off, and then call him and let him know if he wanted to remain in the Army.  Several of us thought Frank should get out, but I'll never forget Frank's decision.
   "My father was a retired first sergeant, and he was proud of me when I enlisted.  If I get out now, I think he'll be disappointed.  All I have now are memories and the legacy he gave me.  I already told the Commander I would like to start in the next class, in February.  I am staying in."  His words were powerful, and we were all quiet after he finished speaking.  After a couple of minutes, he left to go pack his things.  Two hours later, he was gone.
   I never saw Frank again.  It's been more than twenty years now, and he would probably be retired now if he made it.  I like to think of him that way.  In my mind's eye, I can see him as a retired first sergeant or better.  I imagine him with a family of his own and sons to whom he can share stories about the grandfather they never met.
   Frank, wherever you are, this one's for you.  I hope you achieved your dreams and continued your father's legacy.  Carry on, brother.
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Manuel Hernandez: An Everyman Hero of the American Dream

Posted by Curtal Friar on Thursday, March 13, 2008 8:49:08 AM
   Some 70 years ago, an older gentleman of mexican descent started each day by pushing his cart out to the street, where he would began preparing his merchandise - hot tamales.  He would prepare no other food, just the hot tamales.  People that stopped by bought them by the dozen, and he would wrap them in newspaper and give them to the customer.  His name was Manuel Hernandez, and he was one of the finest examples of living the American dream of which I am aware.
   Fast forward many years, and Manuel's Hot Tamales had become a staple of local culture.  Everybody loved them.  There was nothing finer on a Saturday night than to stop by his place, which had moved from the cart to a permanent building and offered takeout only to the public, and pick up a few dozen of his tamales, grab a six-pack or two of Dixie beer, and take it all home for a family feast.  Manuel and his family still wrapped the tamales up in newspaper, and when the person who had gone to pick them up delivered them to the dining room table and opened them up, everyone would be there waiting hungrily.  There was something about the sauce that Manuel cooked his tamales in that was better than anything I have ever eaten, so far as mexican cuisine goes.  Everyone in the area knew and loved Manuel and his tamales.   So, what's the point of this blog entry, you might ask?  It is simple.  If a man like Manuel, who spoke broken English when he began, could make such a success of himself and his family, then anyone can.   It takes a good idea and some talent, to be sure, and lots of hard work and determination, but we all have that potential.  Manuel stands as an heroic icon for all immigrants who long to come to America to achieve the American dream for themselves and their families.
   He also stands in sharp contrast to those immigrants who would cheat and flaunt the system, by coming over illegally in an attempt to gain an advantage over others.  Manuel loved America, and he worked hard to make a place for himself and his family as Americans.  He would have looked on illegals as trash, and he would have been insulted by their presence and their activities.  Who really likes the idiots who insist on cutting in line and getting where they are by cheating and flaunting the rules?
   Manuel's Hot Tamales is now owned by the third generation of the Hernandez.  They keep alive his memory and his example.  All who wish to come to America should look to Manuel for inspiration and follow his example.  He is truly an everyman hero of the American dream.
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Family Heroes Part 2: A Woman Of Strength

Posted by Curtal Friar on Sunday, March 09, 2008 9:10:23 AM
   Today, you hear many feminists, especially the newer or so-called "third-wave" feminists, talking about being strong woman.  Their version of what being a strong woman entails, among other things, shamefully displaying their bodies in skimpy and provocative clothing, swearing worse than sailors, acting like ill-mannered men, and generally behaving rudely in public.  They seem to believe, by their actions, that courtesy and respect and good manners are signs of weakness.  They are proud of the fact they have had and sometimes continue to have multiple sexual partners and believe in wearing the fact they had an abortion on their chest like a medal.
   Well, let me tell you about a real woman of strength: my great-grandmother Irene.  She was born in Alabama in 1895 and died in 1988 at the age of 93 and those who knew here will never forget her.  She was a strong woman.  Heck, she was one of the strongest people I knew period.  Yet, she would have thought these modern feminists to be silly.  Actually, she would have considered them to be disrespectful tramps and probably would have ignored them, for in her mind, you were only worthy of attention if you displayed a character and attributes worthy of emulation.  If any of her children or grandchildren had acted in the manner of the feminists of today, she would have exhibited her firm belief in the adage of "spoil the rod and spoil the child."
   Irene was fearless.  Let me give you some examples.  In New Orleans, we often had floods in the springtime that would fill most of the streets with about two to three feet of water.  In northern states, children get snow days off from school.  In New Orleans, we got flood days.  Sometimes, we children would go out into the streets and play in the water when our parents weren't watching, because it was a fairly dangerous thing to do.  If anyone wandered over an open manhole cover, that would be the end for him.  More commonly, though, was the fact that the water could be full of fire ants that had gotten washed away, and there could be cottonmouth moccasins that would come floating in from the outlying areas and people did occasionally get bit going outside of their houses because a cottonmouth had gotten washed up onto their porch or in their backyard.  Well, my great-grandmother had no fear of those snakes.  I remember looking out the window and seeing one on our back porch.  Irene would grab the broom, step outside and sweep the offending creature off the porch where she would end its existence with the use of her hoe.  One time, I watched as she went out to dispatch one that was sunning out on the lawn.  The snake struck at her and probably would have bit her if it weren't for Irene's dress.  See, the snake hit the dress at an area between her knees, and as there really wasn't anything to bite into there, it simply slid off and hit the ground.  It never got the chance to strike again, because even as it was attempting to recoil, the hoe came down and chopped it in two about six inches below the head.  She never flinched or cried out at all.  I wish I could say I was equally brave around snakes.
   Another time, I happened to be playing in our front yard when my dad pulled up in his old 1970's VW Beetle.  My parents had divorced before I was a year old on account of my father proving to be a violent, abusive man when sober and almost twice as bad when drunk, which was often.  He was supposed to have custody of me one weekend a month and for a month or so in the summertime, but from the time I was old enough to be aware of situations around me, I refused to spend any real time with him.  I was beaten many times by him for little or no reason at all.  For instance, one time at the age of six, when I arrived over at my grandfather's house (my dad's father) to spend the weekend, I walked up behind my father and clapped him on the back and said hello.  He turned around and punched me in the stomach, dropping me to the floor in pain, then picked me up to me feet and told me never to touch his back again.  Then, because I was crying with the pain, he slapped me across the face and told me to knock it off.  I did, and then he went back into his bedroom and slammed the door and I kept asking my grandfather to drive me back home until he finally brought me back to my house.  That was probably one of the "finer" moments spent with my dad.
   Anyway, on this particular day, my dad pulled up and was going to take me away.  He came up to the gate and demanded that I come out and get in the car because he wanted to spend the day with me.  I had no intention of going with him; the only emotions I could summon up toward him was anger and hatred.  I backed up and was going to go into the house.  My dad began to open the gate and come into the yard after me when the front door of the house opened and my great-grandmother stepped out and walked down the front steps toward where my dad stood.  She walked right up to him and told him to get back in his car and leave.  My dad blustered and said no one was going to get between him and his son (not a bad sentiment for anyone not like my father).  She stepped closer and looked him right in the eye and told him clearly "Get out of here or I will give you a slap" and she raised her hand to strike him across the face.  To my wonder, he backed up and got in his car and drove off.  He swore a few times but he left.  I realized that day that people of real strength, not just brute physical strength like my dad possessed, had the ability to give an order and have it obeyed.  There's just something about the tone of their voice that snaps people to attention and gets them in line.
   Modern feminists love to ridicule or insult men.  They believe that's a sign of being a strong woman.  My great-grandmother never once put down men.  To the contrary, she appreciated manly characteristics.  That does not mean, however, that she tolerated all of the peccadilloes than men are prone to if they don't have discipline.  For instance, she could not stand laziness in any form.  In her mind, men were the breadwinners and also the ones to keep the house and property in good condition, and that meant that they put in some good hard work every day to make sure the family had everything it needed and to repair any problems with the house.  To Irene, there was nothing worse than a man who sat around when there was work to be done.  I remember one time we were having a big family dinner.  My great-grandmother, my grandparents, my mother and my siblings and several aunts and uncles and their children were all gathering.  Everyone was busy doing something.  My grandmother, mother and great-grandmother and aunts were all helping to prepare the food.  The younger kids were doing housecleaning.  The older ones were helping out with whatever needed doing.  Everyone was busy save for my grandfather, who was sitting in his nice, comfortable armchair in the den watching television.  My great-grandmother had gone over several times and pointed out things that needed to be done.  My grandfather largely ignored her and just kept watching whatever was on at the time.  Finally, she went over and turned the television off and then stood in front of him and told him in no uncertain terms that men who don't work, don't eat.  My grandfather got busy.
   My great-grandmother was a hero to all of us because of her strength and courage.  She also stood as the finest example of the meaning of a strong woman.  She did not tear down men, rather she helped them to be strong men.  In my mind, that's what all people of strength do.  They build each other up and help each other to become stronger, regardless if they are men or women.  They do not take delight in tearing down or destroying anyone.  I wish all modern feminists could have a woman like her as an example.
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Family Heroes Part 1: My grandfather who invaded Sicily

Posted by Curtal Friar on Saturday, March 08, 2008 10:06:59 AM
   My grandpa Joe was a man of character and personality, and though he died 17 years ago, the memories of him have not lost their luster.  Grandpa Joe was a 5'7" rough spoken, swarthy sicilian man with gradually receding salt and pepper hair who had enforced a harsh code of discipline on his children.  They had a love/hate relationship with him till the day he died, but for the grandchildren, he was quite a different person.
   My uncle, Joe Jr., had probably the roughest time.  Being the only son of my grandpa, he received the most discipline, some of which (when my uncle was a teenager) resulted in fights between the two.  If anyone has ever seen the movie "The Great Santini" you will have a good idea of the kind of relationship the two had.  In spite of their differences, however, my uncle remembers his father with nothing but love and reverence now.
   I had a somewhat different experience with him.  Grandpa Joe was a man who loved to play cards, and we played with each other many times over the years.  We mostly played Rummy 500 and a couple different versions of poker (Draw Poker and 7 Card Down The River).  I enjoyed those times immensely.  Usually while we played, he would tell me stories of his life.  He never went into great detail about the battles he was in, but he told me about being in the Army and the places he had been to during wartime.  He was part of the forces that invaded Sicily and knocked Mussolini's forces back.  I learned a great deal about the enlisted man's perceptions of General Patton.  The soldiers revered him, but few actually wished to serve under Old Blood and Guts.
   I saw my grandfather only a few times after I enlisted in the Army.  On those occasions, he had taken to calling me "Colonel."  "How ya doin', Colonel?" he would ask whenever I arrived.  During those visits, we talked at length about the Army, comparing our experiences.  He had been in Germany in World War II up through a few months after the war ended, and had seen a lot of Germany then.  Naturally, since I was stationed there, he had many questions about what the country was now like.
   I can only wish that he had died as good a death as the life he lived.  In 1991, while I was overseas, he had a stroke and fell over into the fireplace and sustained horrific burns to his head and chest.  Though he was taken to the hospital and treated, it was only a matter of months before he passed away.
   Grandpa, this is my tribute to you.  I await the day when we shall meet in heaven.  I look forward to telling you all about your great grandson, who has every bit the spirit and personality you had.
 
March 8,2008
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Joe Clark

Posted by Curtal Friar on Friday, March 07, 2008 7:30:00 AM
Let me tell you about Joe Clark (name changed to protect anonymity).
 
I first met Joe at a facility I worked at some years ago.  He stood about 5 foot 4 inches and was in his late seventies, and did not appear imposing at all.  I had the chance on many occasions to converse with him during the course of my duties, and over the course of several months, got to know him fairly well.
 
Now, Joe was a janitor, a d**n good one at that, and always did his job well.  He was not well liked by the powers that be, due in large part to his tendency to shoot from the hip and tell it like it is, no holds barred.  He got along great with the general office population, however, for he always had a greeting for everyone he met and possessed a great sense of humor.  Joe was one of the friendliest men one could meet, unless someone got on his bad side, and even then he would treat the offending party politely.
 
If you had never met him before and passed him by in the hallway while he was busy, you might get the impression that he was a bit on the slow side, mentally speaking.  I know of several who made that mistake.  Joe possessed a sharp, active mind that put many to shame.
 
As I got to know him better and he shared details of his life with me, I added him to my list of men that I would strive to emulate, for Joe was every bit a hero.
 
Joe served in the United States Marine Corps and fought for his country against the Chinese in Korea under the command of "Chesty" Puller.  He served his country well.
 
Joe also was a hero in some smaller ways to me.  At the age of 78, he was still in great shape.  Every morning, Joe got up and ran for two miles and did his pushups and situps.  He did this regardless of the weather.  At the time I met him, I knew of many guys my age (37) who could not boast that, including myself.  I was out of shape at the time.  Joe inspired me to get myself back in shape and stay there.
 
One fact I learned as a result of meeting Joe was this:  In our modern world, we are often too busy to really take the time to meet new people and get to know them well.  We need to slow down a bit and open our eyes wider.  There are heroes all around us, men and women, and they have lives that would inspire us greatly if we but take the time to get to know them.
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Welcome to Fountain Abbey

Posted by Curtal Friar on Friday, March 07, 2008 6:59:51 AM
Greetings to all!
 
This blog will be dedicated to writing about America, and everyone and everything that makes her great.
 
So come on in, take a look, and enjoy.  Hopefully, the entries you read here will inspire you.
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