Tag: Me Myself I

Personal stuff

Out Of The Past 2

Gummint, Old Essays, Politics

Barricades, Explained

November 26, 2008
5:04 AM CDT

In a long-ago discussion in Comments, I made the statement that if I had my preference, I’d like to die either asleep in my wife’s arms, or else on the barricades.

I think I’d better explain the latter, because someone may get the wrong impression, and I’d hate that to happen.

Although I’ve started to look like a Frenchman and am descended from the French, most Gallic qualities have long since been burned off by the passage of generations. Most especially, the need for le geste magnifique, mais inutile (the magificent, but futile, gesture) has long ago been purged from my psyche.

So don’t expect me to rush to the barricades when The Glorious Day comes, AK clutched in wrinkled grasp, with ringing exhortations coming from my lips.

I am uncomfortable in the role of “revolutionary leader”. I’m not a rabble rouser, or an agitator. I seek not to form an army, or an underground movement, or any kind of Maquis. I don’t care about glory, or notoriety, or any of that nonsense. I am, quite simply, a man who will go so far, and no further, and who will resist oppression without fanfare, without recognition, and without a qualm.

I am also not a terrorist, or “freedom fighter”, and I will never engage in any activities which are proactive against Our Enemy, The State.

I may, however, choose to resist, in a manner of my own choosing, because I have various boundaries, personal boundaries, which may or may not be the same as those of others.

So my “barricade” would be a lot simpler, and a lot more personal.

It could be at my doorstep, when agents of the State come to confiscate my suddenly-illegal guns.

It could be in a court of law, when I am forced to choose between paying a fine for disobeying an unjust law, and going to prison. (It will, I promise you, be the latter.)

It could be when the State tries to confiscate or trespass on my property.

It could be when the State threatens my family.

It could be when the State tries to load me, or any other “undesirables”, into the cattle cars (real, or metaphysical).

It could be when an agent of the State demands “Papieren, bitte” and I show them my tattoo instead.

It could be when I am restricted in, or forbidden to exercise my freedom of speech, or any of the other freedoms enumerated in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. I will decide what constitutes “reasonable” when it comes to restrictions thereon, and not some Congressman, lawyer, judge, policeman or government bureaucrat.

Just like Nock before me, I’m not intent on “setting an example”, or influencing others, or making a splash of any kind. Those who wish, may do what I do, or not. Those who wish to castigate me for my choices may do so, but it will have no effect. Those who wish to use me as an example do so without my consent or blessing, and those who expect me to “lead” them will be disappointed.

I am a quiet man, a reasonable man, but I am not nor will ever be a slave to the State. I left one country to escape that, and I will not live like that in my adopted one.

So if I die on the barricades, it may be known to others, or else just an unseen spark which flickers and dies in the darkness. Either way, I am indifferent. But it will be known to the agents of the State, I can promise you that. I will not go quietly into that dark night of oppression. It may well turn out to have been a futile gesture, but it will not be futile for me.

I may have lost most Gallic qualities, as I said earlier, but the one I have most definitely lost is the impulse to surrender.

And that’s all I’ll have to say on the topic. Ever.

Break Time

General

Time for me to take to the air again…

 

Yeah, today’s American Airlines economy class looks just  like that. [/sarc]

Anyway, I’ve decided to take a little vacation time, to show New Wife around the country a little.  Angie’s only been to most of north and west Texas, northern New Mexico and the bottom half of Colorado, so I decided to take her off to New England for a belated honeymoon.  Also, she loves the sea and beaches are in short supply in this neck of the woods.

As with most of my vacations, there’s very little planning involved other than a putative destination and well, that’s it.  We’ll be flying up there courtesy of frequent-flier miles, renting a car, then heading out to wherever.  I know New England pretty well, having been there several times since I first saw it in 1985, so I have a short list of places to go to.  Most of the trip, however, will be spent eating lobster, seafood bisque, clam chowder and fish ‘n chips, all washed down with copious amounts of Sam Adams / white wine.  She also wants to do something she calls “walks on the beach”, so I’ll have to let her show me how this is done.

 

Blogging will be sporadic, depending on where we are and whether wifi is available, but I’ll be back in the saddle next week sometime.  In the interim, content yerselves with some old-time rock ‘n roll pieces from the archives (some old links may not work, but that’s not critical, mostly).  See y’all later.

Day 1

Immigration

On May 28, 1986 I arrived in the United States to start my new life as a born-again American.  Of course, New York City was my initial port of entry:

I just knew that I’d fit right in…and then I went on down to Texas to stay with friends while my paperwork was being processed:

…and then I really  felt like I’d come home.

The Full Texas Thang

Entertainment, Friends and Family

Last Saturday I took New Wife out for a Full Texas Day (I know, I know:  never go Full Texas).

Part One was the Fort Worth Gun Show (that was for me, of course, although she found several Girly-things to buy there, and did).  Blessedly, there was more on display than the usual AR-15/Glock/Tacticool stuff (although there was plenty of that too):

… although that mythical unicorn (mint condition Colt Python for under $1,000) was nowhere to be found, of course.  There was a S&W Mod 65-3 for sale, but it looked like it had been towed behind a Ford F-150 for a mile or two, and they wanted $700 for it, so:  pass.  However, there was a vendor selling from a huge  selection of Anza knives, and somehow I managed not to buy a single one (although I could have bought six or seven, easily).

Good grief, they’re lovely knives.  I’m rapidly starting to think of Anza knives as I do .22 rifles — i.e. every home should have at least one — and the next time I go to the Ft. Worth gun show, I’m going to buy another one, because… I shouldn’t have to explain myself on this one, should I?  Here’s one that caught my eye, just because of the shape:

…but honestly, I could also see myself getting any one of these little beauties too.

We were planning on getting a late lunch of BBQ in downtown Ft. Worth (Part Two), but as it happened, there was a vendor at the show from Robinson’s BBQ (“since 1947”) so that was the brisket taken care of — and it was excellent.

We did take a little drive trip through Ft. Worth, and would have stopped to listen to the orchestra playing in Sundance Square, but parking in downtown is crappy, so we didn’t.  Instead, we went out to The Stockyards for a little shopping and entertainment.

The shopping at the various Western wear stores (Part Three) was patchy — some expensive stuff there, Bubba — but I did manage to snag a decent summer-weight vest which doesn’t look like a mil-surp, fishing- or photographer’s vest for a decent price.  New Wife, not so lucky.  (She steadfastly refused to let me buy her some cowboy boots, but hey:  she’s been in Texas less than five months, and I only got a pair of cowboy boots after over fifteen years  here, so it’s a long-term project.)  Also:

Anyway, it was getting late, so we went into Riscky’s for more BBQ and margaritas (Part Four):

Decent ribs, outstanding  grilled shrimp (seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever tasted), and Ernesto the barman is brilliant.  (I tended bar in my distant yoot, so I know the trade.)

Dinner over, we went to Part Five of the Full Texas Thang:

Oh yeah, baby… rodeo! 

Now I have to confess that I’m no expert on rodeo — mostly, I think it’s cheap country entertainment — but you can’t go Full Texas without rodeo, right?  So we watched the bull-riding, bronco busting, calf-roping and all that, until the over-loud PA (and screaming commentator) got to my tinnitus and the hissing/whistling sound became unbearable (my ears are still ringing as I write this, the day after).

But New Wife enjoyed the day thoroughly, even the gun show — although she won’t be going to another one anytime soon — and hey… how often do you get to go Full Texas with a newbie?

Stuff

Good Stuff

This Daily Mail  story caught my attention:

With most of us confused about when or if Brexit will actually happen, one woman told This Morning hosts Ruth and Eamonn today that she wasn’t frightened by the prospect of a Halloween Brexit.
Jen McEnhill, 36, from Stoke Newington, north London, said she wasn’t concerned as she’s stockpiled food and toiletries to see her through for six months, just in case there are important shortages when Britain eventually leaves the European Union.

I understand exactly how she feels, because I’ve had to do without in the past, and I don’t like it.

I’ve been poor several times during my lifetime.  When I was much younger, I lived in my VW panel van for a couple of months as I drove around looking for jobs, and even as I got older, there were times when the decision had to be made whether to pay this bill OR that bill.  We’ve all been there, I suppose, but the lasting effect on me is that I suffer from what’s called “shortage panic” — which is why I always have an overstocked pantry, why I buy in bulk rather than in the more cash flow-friendly smaller pack sizes, and so on.  I have far more clothes than I need — if I find a particular brand / type of shirt, for example, I’ll go back and buy half a dozen of them, using one at a time and replacing it only when it starts falling apart.

I seldom let my car’s gas tank drop much below half-full — and I did this long before I started driving for Uber, by the way.

This shortage panic is why I have a shitload of ammunition stored in Ye Olde Ammoe Locquer, and it’s also why I advised people to start stockpiling food items in case the current Midwest floods should cause shortages in basic foodstuffs over the next year or so.

This condition, by the way, is common among Depression-era folks, less common among Baby Boomers, and (it seems) non-existent among the post-Boomer generations.

Am I the only one who has this problem?

Begging Your Indulgence

Friends and Family

…in that today is a special day for me.

The Son&Heir turns 30 today (and if you’re a Longtime Friend and/or Reader, you have my permission to go ahead and feel very old).  It is customary for a proud father to brag about his son, but in my case, I am truly blessed.  (And those of you who have met him, please feel free to weigh in with your opinions.)

Eagle Scout, champion pistol shooter, drummer, cum laude  college graduate and now junior executive at a successful retail business;  he’s popular with everyone who meets him, works with him or has anything to do with him.  He’s witty, polite, well-mannered, intelligent, astonishingly well-read, and the best dinner companion anyone could wish for.

He never reads my blog — not one of my kids has ever read anything  I’ve written: blog, novels, whatever — so he might or might not read this, but I don’t care.  I bless the day he came into my life, and every day since.  He is my son, I love him dearly, and he is a fine, fine man.

Happy birthday, boy.

— Dad

(aged 15, at Faro Airport in Portugal)