This Caravan thing is just… obnoxious.

I think this picture is particularly fitting right now considering the left’s staunch support of millions of dead babies through abortion. Never forget, the left doesn’t care about YOU personally. Only how they can USE you.



I’m so tired of the left. I’m tired of having to constantly listen to their craziness and intentional lies and slander with a giant slathering of hypocrisy smeared across the top.

This Caravan… Let me put it this way. If a group of people marches towards your border, refusing asylum from the country they are passing through, waving their former countries flags, the majority of them being male, many of them with criminal backgrounds, making demands that we accept and provide for them, and then turn violent when we refuse – That’s an Army. That’s an occupation. That’s war.

“They’re not carrying weapons.”

Several thousand unarmed people banded together to violently force capitulation to their desires clashing against a thin, wildly outnumbered Green Line of Border Patrol Agents is far more dangerous than a dozen armed drug runners.

If you still don’t believe me, you should YouTube ‘Ferguson Riots/Baltimore Riots/L.A Riots’. Just because no one is shot, doesn’t mean their isn’t a threat of grievous bodily harm or death.

And who is aiding and abetting this army? Democrats. Who is out there, loudly screaming for them to be admitted and given everything they want in exchange for their loyal votes? Democrats.

The very same people who didn’t blink when tear gas was used over 80 times under Obama and are now calling Trump all manner of ridiculous things. Take that idiot Hollywood celebrity woman swearing and frothing at the mouth… she was all over the news for it the other day. I’d mention her name, but she’s irrelevant to people with an iota of common sense.

Then we have Ocasio-Cortez, the brilliant liberally college educated economics major… who is comparing these invaders to Jews fleeing the Holocaust. Geez lady. You’re the idiot gift that keeps giving. I just don’t understand how someone could be so profoundly stupid and elected…

Since Trump is supposedly Hitler, that’d be like the Jews fleeing INTO the gas chambers… right? In your sick, twisted, irrational brain – that makes sense. On one hand, Trump is Hitler. The other hand, the invading migrant army is Jews… So… Is Hitler turning away Jews? Is that the imagery we are searching for in this ridiculous example?

Doesn’t matter. I can’t make myself stupid enough to understand that.

But I hate when the left uses comparisons like this in regards to Trump. It’s such a horrid slap in the face of our grandparents who fought, bled, killed, died, and witnessed immense horrors on the battlefield to destroy such a man. It’s an immense insult to the people who actually were tortured, mutilated, dismembered alive, experimented on, genocided by such evil depravity. How dare you?

How dare you call me a Nazi for believing the very same things as our grandparents who actually defeated Nazis? This is how ridiculous the left is.

But, the left loves word play. They’ve managed to make an art out of using words to their advantage. Words have power, they illicit feelings.

“Nazis/White Supremacists/Racists/Sexists/Homophobes/Xenopobes/Deplorables/Uncle Toms” – Republicans.

“Affordable Care Act” – Insurance no one could afford.

“Gun Safety Laws” – Gun Control/Confiscation/Limitation/Disarmament.

“Common-sense X, Y, Z” – Never is it actually common sense.

“Dreamers” – Illegal Aliens/Undocumented Workers.

“Executive Actions” – Executive Orders.

“Progressive” – Liberal.

“The New Deal” – Socialist Welfare Programs.

“Congressional Black Caucus” – Black Democrats who refused to applaud when Trump talked about the historical low unemployment rate amounts blacks in America during his first State of the Union address. Also, the same ones who don’t care that their party’s support for abortion has reduced the black population in America by 33%.

They like to rephrase things, coin new terms, make it sound like it’s something better than it is to get their lemmings to keep voting while loudly proclaiming their victim status in pink hats and waving crude signs blaming Republicans from everything from the climate changing to voter intimidation to jack booted police thuggery.


That’s what this Caravan is full of.

Not Illegal Immigrants, not Illegal Aliens, not large percentage of criminals and young men/small percentage of women and children. Not invaders flying their countries flag that they are supposedly fleeing from and demanding we give them access to our countries resources or else they will take them by force.

What a bunch of garbage.

While we are on this topic.

Our Entire Southern Border is a Humanitarian Crisis.

Huffpost – 80% of women/girls are raped crossing the border

That article is from 2014. Guess who was President? (Hint – It weren’t Evil Misogynist Dictator Trump!) Where’s the outcry? Where’s the viral hashtag campaigns?

Washington Examiner – Nearly 99.8% of all illegal drugs shipped to US from Mexico.

200 people a day died in 2017 of over doses. How many families have fallen apart? How many AMERICAN kids have been separated from their parents due to drug use? How many Americans have been incarcerated?

US Customs and Border Patrol – Criminal Alien Statistics:



Republicans are the bad ones for wanting to build a wall to control access and properly vet those who are granted citizenship.

Democrats are the ‘caring ones’ who want to open the floodgates. And this is the number one reason why they support illegal aliens flowing into the US, and why they support mass Amnesty…. This is one of the most important things to understand about the left and why they do what they do: The left wants a giant, permanent, government-dependent class of people who live in squalor and will keep them in power in exchange for free things.

If you doubt me, look at the Democrat run cities. Chicago, LA, Detroit. Cesspools of feces in the streets(wish I was kidding), high rates of poverty, high rates of government corruption, high rates of unemployment, high taxes, high amounts of regulations and restrictions, no legal weapons… exactly what they want America to be.

Where the powerful few control the powerless many.

That’s why our economy floundered under Obama’s leadership. That’s why we were told that jobs were gone and weren’t coming back. “What’s he got? A Magic Wand?” That’s why these people, these supposedly brilliant people who are Ivy Leagued educated, seem to not understand the basics of economics. Because their agenda, their liberal beliefs, drive them to throw it out the window in pursuit of power.

We should thank God every single day that Trump is our President.

RAWR! Pew! Pew! Pew!

(Work in Process title!)

Final editing just isn’t fun… But it’s going well.  Like shooting, where trigger time equates to increased skill and accuracy, time on a keyboard equates to increased writing skill. So we are getting there, slowly, painfully… word by word…edit by edit…

Anywho – here’s the intro to ‘The Greatest Magnificent Seven/Planet of the Apes/Jurassic Park Combo you will ever read’.

Enjoy the violence.

And give feedback. I don’t give a hoot about my feelings, what’s more important is to churn out a solid, good quality, and entertaining product.

PS – WordPress has a new blog editor, and it stinks. So there may be some funny spacing and whatnot. (But any grammar errors are mine unfortunately.)

EDIT – Part TWO – Click HERE.


June 1885.



Circling buzzards made the killing field easy enough to find.

The soldier’s bodies were scattered for a half mile across the open prairie. Mangled, crushed, gnawed on. They’d made a running fight of it, but were slaughtered anyway.

A dozen men. Armed with the finest weapons and equipment since the War Between the States. Trained and experienced in fighting Indians, rustlers, and outlaws.

For all the good it did them.

All I could find was a couple of dead apes and a single wounded triceratops.

Sending them out had been the Lieutenants decision. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t have a choice. But with the loss of these men, our low chances of survival dropped even further.

Turning my horse around, I touched heels to his flanks, leaving the weapons and gear for the Indians. They were going to need them.

As for me?

My name is Jedidiah Huckleberry Smith.

And I’m probably going to die as well.


Two weeks earlier.

Smith Ranch, Wyoming Territory


The heavy axe burst through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending small chips and splinters flying as the sawn log split into two almost equal pieces. The twin chunks toppled off the large stump. Picking one of the pieces up, I set it vertically before dropping the axe and resting on the handle.

With a gloved hand, I pushed my soaked mop of unruly black hair out of my eyes and blinked rapidly as a drop of sweat trickled into my eye. My shoulders ached, and my stomach growled. It was nigh quitting time.

My horse Carbine, a beautiful dun gelding, stomped his feet, impatient that he had to stay harnessed to the wagon while waiting for me to finish my work. Ignoring him, I stretched. As my back arched, I felt the familiar tugging from the decades old scar tissue that crossed my upper back and shoulders, traveling around my sides.

The scars were a constant reminder of the singular day that changed the course of my life, and ultimately led me to where I was now. Living in isolation on a small cattle ranch, a fugitive from justice, a former outlaw… a damaged man. And somewhere out there, someone owed me a debt of blood. Someone who had alluded me for decades. Someone who may very well already be dead, and not by my hand. I wasn’t sure which was worse, him still kicking, or being killed by someone else.

Suddenly furious, I swung the axe over my shouldersand slammed the angular blade down with far more force than necessary. Theexplosion of chips as the fractioned log burst apart did nothing to ease the hotanger that boiled up from within.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to take deep breaths. That was an old story. That wasn’t me anymore. For two years I’d begun to put down roots here. And for once in my life, I was actually invested in something good and solid.

Looking around the pasture, I was pleased with the amount of work I’d accomplished today. It was hard work, but rewarding. Cutting down trees and chopping it into firewood was the hard part, the rewarding part was blowing the stumps up with dynamite. My ears still rang.

In the distance, storm clouds were gathering above the Granite Mountains and making their way towards me. It looked like a real dozy. Tossing the axe into the wagon, I threw a few more pieces of split firewood into the back to top the load off. Taking the gun belt down that hung from the corner of the seat, I wrapped it around my waist and climbed aboard. Call it an natural impulse, but I had a very rational fear of being unarmed.

Carbine looked over his shoulder at me, and I could tell he was displeased. He was pulling double duty today as my mare, Elsa, was lamed in the barn. Slapping the reins on his back, the tan horse leaned forward and began to pull the heavy wagon. My spread wasn’t that big, but if my small herd kept growing, I’d need to hire some ranch hands on. I wasn’t exactly a people person and I preferred my solitude, so I’d put that off for as long as possible. Once we reached the house, I stopped my horse and quickly strapped a canvas sheet over the firewood, before turning him loose in the corral beside the barn.

As I bent over to lock the gate behind my horse, Carbine snatched the hat off my head and trotted off, the black battered Stetson dangling from his teeth. He dropped it a dozen yards away and pranced around it, flipping his black mane and tail happily.

Swearing, I crawled through the creaking rails of the corral and picked the hat off the ground. I considered smacking him with it, but he kept his distance. Instead I slapped it against my leg a few times to knock the fresh dirt and slobber off.

Figures. I’ve two horses, one lame and the other an asshole.

I watched him happily trot into the pole shed attached to the side of the barn. That was his favorite spot to stand in the shade and spend the night. Even with the big storm coming in, I wasn’t concerned, the walled sides and shingled roof would protect him.

As a light rain began to fall and the distant rumble of thunder grew closer, I pulled the axe, saw, and a small crate of leftover dynamite from the wagon and hauled them to the barn. The doors were closed, and as usual, stuck shut. I kicked, swore, jerked, and tugged on them before I finally got one open. They were wretched things, big and stout, as all things in the west needed to be. But they were a constant aggravation and I was certain they were going to be the death of me.

The barn itself was a great big thing. A story and a half tall, with a wide opening down the center and several stalls along the side. It was big enough to hold over a dozen cattle or horses with room to spare. Hay was kept in the loft, gradually added to through the short summer in preparation for keeping my herd and horses alive in case of a long, hard winter.

Dropping the tools at the end of the barn beside the small back door, I stopped by Elsa’s stall to check on her and feed her an apple. It had only been two days since I noticed her favoring her right leg. Hopefully, the swelling would go down soon, and she would be alright. Unlike Carbine, she was a good horse.

I gave her a good scratch on her withers before jogging through the light rain and onto the porch of my one room ranch house. Stopping, I turned and watched the swirling gray clouds grow darker. It looked like we were in for a big one. I looked beside my feet and shrugged. My saddle sat next to the rocking chair where I’d mended some stitching yesterday. But I wasn’t about to lug it through the rain to the barn now. It’d be fine here tonight.

Lightning split the distant sky, and I waited for the thunder to reach me. The storm was just getting started. Knocking the dust from my boots, I stepped inside the house to settle in for the night.


The terrified scream of a horse jerked me awake and out of bed.

A couple of long strides and I was peeking through the cross shaped firing port in the thick wooden shutter.

With the storm blocking most of the moonlight, visibility was limited.

It was times like this when I was thankful I didn’t sleep naked. I jerked my boots on over bare feet and slung my gun belt around my cotton threaded drawers.

The weight of the Colt Peacemaker was reassuring and balanced by a nine-and-a-half-inch Bowie knife in an oiled leather sheath on the opposite side.

From above the door, I took down a well-worn Winchester 1873 rifle and worked the lever, jacking a cartridge into the chamber.

I stood still, listening for any noises.

There was nothing but the gentle patter of falling rain on the roof.

Lighting a lantern, I slid the bar off the door, and stepped into the storm.

It was raining harder now, and I regretted not grabbing my slicker.

The cold rain plastered my hair to my scalp. I shuddered as trickles of water ran down my bare chest and back before soaking into my underwear.

I moved across the yard as the trees swayed in the wind and the open barn door squeaked on its hinges.

Lightning flashed across the sky and several long moments later the rumbling thunder washed over me.

Holding the lantern in front of me, I saw the top rail of the corral was knocked off while the one underneath lay splintered and broken on the ground.

I inspected the damage and the area around it. No sign of blood or struggle, just hoof tracks leading away towards the forest at a run. It was obvious Carbine broke through the fence, but why? This storm was bad, but we’d been through far worse together.

Lightning flashed again, closer this time. The boom of thunder hit me a split second later as the wind picked up. I shivered as rain trickled down my spine. The heavy barn door thumped as it bounced against the vertical board siding.

A couple of soft thuds came from inside the building and I held still, uncertain of what I’d heard. I took a few steps towards the barn. Another thud, followed by a crunching, like branches being stepped on. Then what sounded like a snort and a tearing noise, then more crunching.

I shook my head, uncertain of what I was hearing. The trees nearby were groaning and cracking in the heavy wind, obscuring other noises. I tried to listen again and could make out nothing in the noises of the storm and repeated thumping of the door.

A handful of steps and I was at the barn entrance. Since I was out here, I figured I may as well check on Elsa.

Rain dripped heavily down from the angled roof, putting a sheet of falling water between myself and the inside of the barn. A hard wind gust hit me, and I staggered before leaning into it.

Frustrated with the pounding wind and cold rain, I raised the lantern and ducked through the sheet of water and into the barn.

I took two steps inside and skidded to a stop.

My heart skipped a beat.

I’d walked up behind a monster.

Growling, it swung its head over its shoulder and glared.

The creature had a thick, heavy head, almost reptilian in appearance. Something dangled from its clenched teeth. Dark liquid dripped from its jaws onto the dirt floor. Black eyes reflected the lantern light, giving off a sinister appearance. Two bony ridges started above the slanted nostrils, growing larger as they ran along its head and flared out above the eyes before ending at the top of its skull. Small bumps and ridges ran down the back of its neck onto its spine.

Its large, thick tail was raised slightly into the air, tapering to a point, close enough I could have reached out and touched it. Muscular and powerful hind legs held the rear end up, while the front arms dug claws into Elsa’s body.

She lay ripped open, her entrails strewn amongst the shattered boards of her stall.

Shocked, I realized it was her hind leg that dangled from the beast’s mouth. Broken shards of bone glistened amongst the torn flesh.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My mind couldn’t comprehend what was in front of me.

The barn door thumped behind me in the wind.

The creature dropped the severed leg with a wet thud and snorted softly, tilting its head to the side as it studied me. It sniffed, as though trying to figure out what small creature would dare approach it so boldly.

We stared at each other in the glow of the lantern, when a heavy gust of wind slammed the door shut behind me with a loud boom.

That broke the magical moment.

I flinched as the monster roared, the noise assaulting my ears and revealing rows of large curved teeth coated with blood and bits of flesh. The stench was overpowering and nauseating. Droplets of blood and pieces of Elsa flew from its mouth, splattering on my chest and face.

I turned and ran, slamming face first into the door.

It didn’t open. It was stuck. It was always stuck.

I shoved again, throwing all my weight against the rough boards.


Screaming in rage, I stepped back and kicked in a last-ditch attempt to force it open.

It failed.

The creature turned to face me, its tail slamming into the center beam with an audible crack.

The building shuddered.

Frantic, I looked for a way out. The windows along the stalls were too narrow to fit through. The only other exit was a door behind the monster at the far end of the barn.

The creature lunged for me, mouth agape and teeth bared.

Diving to the side, I dropped the lantern and it burst, spewing flaming oil as I rolled away.

The monster’s mouth snapped shut where I’d been a moment before, and the creature jerked back, hissing, as it recoiled from the small explosion of flames.

Kneeling, I looked at the beast as it glared at the rapidly spreading flames.

The panicked moment of terror and surprise over, it was time to fight back.

Jerking the stock to my shoulder, I squeezed the trigger, sending a 200-grain bullet into the beast’s chest. Instinctively, I shucked the lever and fired again.

I had ten rounds and I intended to use them all. I worked the rifle, peppering the beast with bullets.

Roaring in pain and anger, the creature lunged.

I lurched out of the way, tripping and slamming the side of my head into the roughhewn boards of a stall.

The rifle flew from my grasp.

I rolled in desperation as it swiped its clawed arm at me. Pain flashed hot across my chest. Only the stall saved me as it took the brunt of the blow and showered me with splinters.

I tried to put more distance between us, scrambling backwards and away. Blood trickled down my chest. I pushed concern aside. If I didn’t die in the immediate future, I’d worry about it later.

The beast turned after me, its tail slashing through the smoke and slamming the stuck door open. But now, the monster stood between me and the entrance as the breeze fanned the flames.

The interior of the barn became a flickering smoke-filled haze as the fire spread quickly behind the beast. The flames licked the sides of the stalls and along the door jam.

Smoke wafted around the monster and it was illuminated with dancing flames. Blood oozed from puckered holes across the front of the beast.

I carefully stood, bracing myself for another lunge or swing of its arms.

The monster watched, dark eyes flicking as they followed my movements. It rose on hind legs, the thick tail dropping to the floor, and front arms spread with claws extended. The gaping maw of bloodied jagged teeth was open.

I could taste its rotten breath in the air.

The beast reared back, its mouth opening impossibly wide as it prepared to lunge.

This time, I was ready.

I drew my pistol and fired from the hip.

As I retreated, I shot all five rounds from the Peacemaker. Each bullet hit a little higher than the last as I rode the recoil and worked my shots up its body. The final round clipped its left eye and blew out part of the creature’s eye socket.

The beast snarled and thrashed its arms, pawing at the ghastly wound.

But the damn thing simply would not die.

Turning to run, I tripped over Elsa’s remains. Blood, organs, and rendered flesh squished under my weight. My hand went into her intestines. Gagging, I slipped and stumbled off her corpse into a stall.

The rough sawn boards gave me a moment of concealment, but I had no illusion about their usefulness as protection.

Flipping the barrel of the revolver up, I rotated the cylinder and dumped the empty shells. With gore covered fingers, I began to reload, carefully feeding cartridges into the empty chambers, one by one. Each turn of the cylinder made a quiet snick that I prayed the monster didn’t hear.

Lightening crashed nearby, temporarily overwhelming my senses with the painful crack of electricity.

I froze, my fingers grasping a cartridge still in my belt loops.

The barn was silent, except for the crackle of flames, and a low rhythmic hissing.

Smoke drifted into the stall, burning my eyes and lungs. I stifled a cough.

Claws gripped the wood rail above me suddenly and I cringed as it splintered and broke. The beast leaned forward, searching the barn with its good eye. Blood trickled onto my face and bare shoulders.

I only had two cartridges loaded. Fearful of making a noise, I eased the gate shut over the cylinder, wincing at the tiny click. I tilted the barrel upwards and pointed it under the monster’s jaw.

Claws dug into the rail, showering me with dust and splinters as I began to take up the slack on the trigger.

The beast jerked back out of sight.

I gave a small sigh of relief.

Violently, I was catapulted forward onto my face as it rammed its head through the stall behind me.

Teeth snapped shut as I scrambled away and rolled onto my back. The beasts head jutted through the shattered boards, snarling and snapping as it strained to get me.

Holding the pistol tightly with both hands, I fired between my knees and into its head.

The bullet hit and skimmed along the thick skull, gashing open a flap of thick skin and exposing a slit of pale bone. The monster jerked at the pain and my remaining shot punched into a shoulder with no noticeable effect.

I screamed in frustration and rage, resisting the temptation to hurl my empty pistol at its bloodied face.

The beast wrenched its head back and forth, struggling to pull through the jagged broken wall. The boards, bent inward from the creature’s intrusion, were still firmly nailed to the thick posts of the stall, and pushed against the back of the monster’s skull. The boards tightened as it fought to free itself. The foul creature hissed and snapped forward at me again.

I shoved my pistol into its holster and crawled out into the open room and around Elsa’s mutilated remains.

The smoke was harsh. I coughed and hacked as it threatened to suffocate me. Looking past the thrashing tail, I saw my rifle near the entrance with flames licking around the barrel. Desperate for a loaded weapon, I dove for it. Sliding across the packed dirt floor, I scooped up the rifle. The metal was hot to the touch, the stock singed black, but at least the rounds hadn’t cooked off from the heat yet.

The beast roared, grabbing and ripping at the broken boards trapping its head with its claws. Its tail thrashed, flinging tools and equipment across the floor and into the flames.

Bits of burning hay from the rafters above fell between us.

The large front door stood open behind me, but a raging inferno was between me and my escape.

My only option was still the small door in the far end. And in my desperation for a loaded weapon, I foolishly made the horrible mistake of putting the monster back between me and my exit.

With a mighty jerk, the creature pulled itself free and backed into the cracked center post.

It broke.

The center of the barn crashed down, stopping a mere handful of feet above the beast, supported by broken and creaking beams. Flames whooshed higher from the air entering through the shattered roof, fanning them to towering heights as rain poured in and fought to quench them.

Amidst the flames and smoke, I looked at the bloodied harbinger of death and terror before me.

Blood oozed from the monster’s wounds, bits of splintered wood embedded in its flesh, and one eye was a gaping ruin seeping blood from the mangled socket.

I racked the lever and savored the snick of the action closing on a fresh round. I didn’t know how many bullets were left in the tube. Four? Five?

Didn’t matter. If I was going to be eaten, it’d be amidst a small scattering of brass.

The creature charged with a roar.

Adrenaline and fear gave speed to my hands. I jerked the barrel up and short stroked the action, firing faster than I ever had before.

My aim was true.

But the monstrosity soaked up the remaining rounds without pause and reached for me, mouth gaping.

In desperation, I shoved the rifle in front of me and wedged it horizontally into the creatures open mouth. The teeth clamped down, narrowly missing my hands. The gun stock splintered and broke. Hot, rotten breath bathed me as the beast pushed me backwards towards the raging fire.

I screamed as the heat became unbearable and let go of the gun, diving aside before it pushed me into the blazing hot inferno.

The beast’s head thrust into the flames. I heard it sizzle and pop as the skin and raw wounds burned. The creature tried to roar around the rifle jutting out from each side of its mouth. A flailing arm backhanded me and flung me like a rag doll.

I hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Forcing myself up, I ran around the struggling creature to the rear of the barn, dodging the bundles of flaming hay raining down around me.

The monster thrashed on the ground, slamming into broken stalls and beams as it tried to dislodge the jammed rifle from its mouth.

The front of the barn shuddered under the impacts. The weakened structure threatened to collapse at any moment.

The barn had become a hellfire with a demon trapped inside, roaring in pain and anger behind me. Smoke swirled around the beast, as rain dripped through the broken roof and fought the spreading flames.

I reached the back door and saw my tools beside it. Something ugly welled up inside of me.

This thing had eaten my horse, destroyed my barn, and tried to kill me.

I grabbed the axe.

This thing was going to die.

I paused when I saw a small marked wooden chest with rope handles. Jerking the lid off, I looked at the leftover cardboard wrapped sticks of dynamite.

This was more like it.

Grabbing a blast cap, I jammed it onto the explosive. Twisting the fuse around my fingers, I tore it off short.

The monster knocked the rifle out of its mouth and came for me again. Blood and saliva dripped onto the floor, sizzling in the flames, as it stalked forward. Slower this time, more cautious, more enraged. It jerked its head aside as a bundle of burning hay fell in front of it.

Using a nearby flame, I realized I’d broken the fuse off too short when it ignited and burned quickly towards the blasting cap. I tossed the stick back in the box, kicked it across the floor towards the beast and ran out the back door into the rain.

The fire rose high into the air behind me as the barn was consumed.

Stumbling to my knees, I pushed up from the rain soaked ground and ran for the house. Shelter seemed so far away.

Behind me came a bestial roar followed by heavy thuds.

I dared a backwards look.

The beast ripped the small door off its hinges. Claws grabbed the frame and tore pieces away as the creature fought to get through the opening. The wall screeched and shuddered as boards snapped and broke.

Shoving its head and shoulders through the opening, the monster roared at me.

The dynamite blew.

The explosion hit me like a train, driving the air from my lungs and slamming me against the ground.

For a moment, everything went dark.

Then I became acutely aware of pain. I blinked. Everything hurt. The gash across my chest stung. My lungs and throat felt like they were on fire. Dozens of small scrapes and cuts covered my singed body. My underwear was in tatters. I coughed. The pain almost consumed me.

Bits of flaming debris were scattered throughout the yard. A pitchfork was embedded in the ground beside me, its broken handle on fire.

What remained of the barn shuddered then collapsed in on itself in a shower of sparks and flame.

The beast lay near me. Blood ran from its many wounds and mingled with the rain. The rear legs and tail were shredded and mangled from the explosion.

But still, it lived.

The hellish beasts single remaining dark orb glared, reflecting the dancing flames. Snarling, it weakly stretched a forelimb towards me, sharp claws open and reaching.

My battered body responded sluggishly as I drew my Colt. I pointed the trembling barrel at the beast’s face, and pulled the trigger.


The pistol was empty.

I dropped the useless gun and with thick, fumbling fingers grasped the handle of my Bowie.

The claws that reached for me suddenly clutched at the wet soil and with a violent spasm, the beast shuddered, before giving a final rattling breath and laying still.

It was finally dead.

Lighting danced across the sky as the storm raged on above me and I embraced the pain and darkness.


I woke hacking and coughing, with a pounding headache and soaked to the bone as a light rain continued to fall about me. My empty pistol lay beside me, wet and gleaming in the early rays of the morning sun that peeked through the retreating storm clouds.

The monster was dead before me. Its single eye dulled and gray.

Beyond the creature, all that remained of my barn was a tumbled mass of burnt timbers and rubble amongst small residual flames that hissed in the rain. A thick gray smoke drifted from the pile of ash.

Bits of smoldering wreckage and charred debris lay scattered around me.

Picking up my gun, I stumbled across the yard to the house, wide-eyed at the destruction and giant beast I had slain. Slamming the door shut behind me, I lowered the door bar and dropped to the floor, my back pressed against the wall. If more monsters lurked outside, I didn’t know if a barred door would stop them. But it was comforting, and right now, I felt like a kitten could finish me off with a single blow.

I dumped the spent brass from my pistol onto the floor. Pulling fresh cartridges from my belt, I reloaded. The gun, while smeared with the same sticky blood that coated me, would still function and that’s all that mattered.

Stripping out of my boots and tattered underwear, I left them in a heap in the middle of the room and crawled naked into bed. My pistol I laid on the small table beside me.

Lying there, I stared at the exposed rafters in disbelief.

Elsa was ripped apart, Carbine was missing, and the barn burnt to the ground because of an ungodly creature. My mind tried to convince itself that none of it was real, but the pain and blood smeared across my body proved it was all too real.

I closed my eyes.

When I woke several hours later, I felt like I had been shot at, missed, shit at, and hit all over.

My joints were stiff. The cut across my chest was a congealed mass of blood and ash. Small nicks and cuts covered me. My singed hair stank horribly. Moving gingerly, I opened the shutters, squinting at the sunlight as my eyes adjusted. The yard was just how I remembered it from last night. Full of burnt debris with a giant mangled corpse near the jumble of ruination that had once been my barn.

The inside of the house looked like someone had been murdered. Blood and ash was smeared from where I’d fumbled my way inside. The trail led from inside the door, up against the wall, and across the floor to the scattered pile of bloodied clothing.

Sighing, I pulled pants on and stepped outside in my bare feet.

Carbine trotted around the side of the house, head and tail held high, as if proud that he’d left me to die. He snorted and pranced, keeping his distance from the smoldering remains of the barn and the monster’s carcass.

Leaving him to wander around, I began to clean myself up.

I washed away the crusted scab over my chest and got a good look at the cut. Unfortunately, it was deep enough to warrant a few stitches. I downed a couple slugs of whiskey and bit down on a stick before drizzling some across the wound. Tears rolled from my eyes at the burst of pain from the alcohol. Then I stitched it shut, screaming through clenched teeth as thread pulled the torn flesh together.

The stitches looked horrible, but they would hold.

As I wiped away the rest of the grime, and looked in a shaving mirror, I realized just how beat up I was. In addition to all of my other ailments, I had two black eyes and a nice goose egg bump on my head.

I looked like hammered crap.

After cleaning myself up the best I could, I rocked in a chair on the porch, staring at the remains of the beast.

Even dead, it was frightening to behold.

Large and powerful, corded with muscle under its thick tan hide. The undamaged eye that had been so menacing last night was now glazed over, but the teeth and claws showed the creature’s lethality.

Then there was the barn, which was destroyed.

Luckily my saddle survived. Leaving it on the porch last night had been a blessing. But the cost to replace the rest of my gear and tools lost in the fire would be staggering.

Not to mention Elsa. She’d been a good horse.

And somewhere in the ashes were the remains of my rifle.

At least I had a spare, an old Spencer Repeating rifle. Twenty years past its prime, it was something of an outdated oddity now. Chambered in .56-50, it fired a hard-hitting round that worked well enough when I hunted buffalo.

It would do if more beasts came calling.

Right now, it was fully loaded and within arm’s reach.

I whistled for Carbine and managed to harness and saddle him without too much pain.

The Sheriff needed to know about this. More of these monsters might be lurking around. I got lucky, anyone caught in the open, unprepared, would be a goner. The hard part would be convincing him.

Luckily, I had a big corpse.

Picking up the small axe I used for splitting kindling, I collected my proof.

Afterward, I slid the Spencer into the leather saddle scabbard. My vest pockets were full of loose rounds for the rifle and the loops in my belt were filled with .45 cartridges for the Peacemaker. I wanted to be ready for anything. If I had more dynamite, I would have stuffed it into the saddlebags as well.

Easing myself up in the saddle, we rode towards town.


The saga continues with RAWR! Pew! Pew! Pew-Part Tew!

Stupid ‘Death of a Nation’ Review BEAT-DOWN! KABOOM! SPLOOSH! (FINISH HIM!)


I watched it with the lovely wife Friday night.

In a single word – Superb. Go rent/stream it… right meow. It’s like $3 bucks to rent on Amazon Prime. gave it a one star. Which means precisely jack, as I’ll show you in a minute….

But first, this is the second film by Dinesh D’Souze that I’ve seen. The first was Obama2016, and it was excellent and not at all boring like I expected.  (I missed the one he did on Hillary.) But this one was every bit as good as the Obama film… except with Nazis. Personally, I knew a fair amount of the subject matter. But it was still full of surprising facts that I didn’t know. And it took a lot of the bits and pieces I knew about the Democrats history with the KKK and Nazis and put it together in an easy way to follow.

But ya know what, let’s go ahead and take this review behind the woodshed. My thoughts are in BOLD.



Reviewed by: Peter Sobczynski

-I scanned your twitter. I’m sure there’s absolutely NO bias in your review… -eyeroll- Exhibit A below:


By the way, as someone who has been hit in the face with a rock flung by a 12 year old hard enough to shatter my glasses and cut my nose open – YEAH. You can hurt and kill someone. You realize the middle east has been stoning people to death for over a century…right? Daniel even slayed a nine and a half foot tall giant with a river stone… Sigh… On behalf of anyone who has been hit with a rock, or served in the military, police, border patrol, JROTC… you’re an idiot.

And if you want to contest that statement… bring a rock. We’ll stand six feet apart and you can throw yours first… then I’ll throw mine.

In concluding my review of “Hillary’s America: The Secret History of the Democratic Party” (2016), the previous film from conservative pundit-turned-conspiracy theorist/hack filmmaker Dinesh D’Souza, I offered the mild critique that “it may well be the single dumbest documentary that I have ever seen in my life.” Good thing that I added that qualifier “may well be” because with his latest effort, “Death of a Nation,” he has managed to outdo his earlier works to such an extent that this could be considered the “Mission: Impossible—Fallout” of crackpot cinematic screeds. In fact, the only thing preventing me from dubbing this one of the dumbest movies of any type that I have ever seen in my life is the fact that I am not entirely certain that something as shabbily constructed and artistically bankrupt as this actually qualifies as a movie in the first place.

It’s fitting that your bio says Dumbo is your favorite movie of all time. But, I love this. This is typical ‘internet argument stuff’. Once confronted with well laid out thoughts, facts, rational, after spending lots of time researching and making sure subject matter is correct – the left deflates and responds with some vague ‘this is stooopidd! You suck!’ response or they ignore everything you said altogether and bring up some other stupid point you have to beat down.

Most people first heard of this movie back in mid-June when D’Souza announced its imminent release and stating that in it, he, in addition to his usual schtick of pinning the blame for all the ills of the world on Democrats, would be putting forth the argument that Donald Trump was the modern-day equivalent of Abraham Lincoln himself.

No bias show here at all…

This announcement raised many eyebrows and not just because that is a comparison that even those whose politics do lean towards the right might find difficult to swallow.

‘Even those whose politics do lean towards the right’ – You mean RHINO’s? Moderates? Never Trumpers? He has a 91% approval rating among Republicans as of a couple days ago. At the time of your article he was around 80+%. 

This is another one of those BS arguments the left likes to use. “Well, even your own party hates him!” Shuddup. Hillary was DESPISED by your own party. That’s why you lost. McCain, Romney, Flake, Murkowski, etc don’t speak for all of us. Apparently they only speak for about 9% of us.

It was only a couple of weeks earlier that Trump had unexpectedly granted D’Souza a pardon from his conviction for making illegal campaign contributions in 2012—the assumption being that D’Souza made a film lionizing Trump (presumably after Señor Spielbergo turned the project down) in exchange for his pardon.

Funny. Obama had him investigated by the IRS AFTER his film Obama2016 was released. This was during the proven (by way of apology from the IRS) intentional targeting of Conservatives and Conservative Groups during an election year. But sure, yeah, Trump pardoned him because of a film released outside of an Election year… Or maybe it was a case of the punishment not fitting the crime. But, if you want to play ball – I’ve a list of well known Democrats and Hollywood Celebrities who are guilty of the exact same thing as Dinesh… but no charges, no convictions, no fines, no jail time… 

D’Souza claims that Trump knew nothing about the project when he granted the pardon and with nothing concrete to suggest otherwise, I will take D’Souza at his word regarding this. To be fair, however, if ever there was a movie that looked as if it had been slapped together in a couple of weeks as part of a quid pro quo agreement involving a dubious-seeming criminal pardon, “Death of a Nation” is that film.

“To be fair” is funny coming from the guy who posts such profoundly stupid Twitter drivel as yourself. There is nothing ‘fair’ about this review. You’re a political hack who lets his hatred for the right blind him. Whoever let you review this film should be slapped with a dead squid.

And since we are throwing out baseless allegations… A pink polka dotted baboon claims you are a brilliant reviewer who should be heaped with journalistic praise for your verbal pose and elegance and refusal to let politics sway your opinion. /sarcasm.

During a montage chronicling the 2016 election, D’Souza himself admits that he was not exactly gung-ho over Trump (he barely rated a mention in “Hillary’s America,” though D’Souza brags that the film helped with his victory)

So what? -I- wasn’t a Trump fan. I donated money to Ben Carson. But when it came time to vote for Trump or Hillary, it was a simple choice because I’d rather vote for a rotten head of cabbage than a Democrat.

And like Jesus walked on water, Democrats walk on slime. It seems no matter how much scandal, illegal activity, immorality, or stupidity a Democrat has, it rarely weighs them down. Often they get re-elected with even bigger percentages. I’m sure this movie helped, because there are a lot of good intentioned, well meaning, but ultimately politically ignorant folks out there that stuff like this… or Death of a Nation… reveals the truth hidden by liberal schooling, and the media propaganda arm of the left.

but, in his never-ending quest to stay vaguely relevant, he has certainly quaffed the Flavor-Aid since then. He then concludes that montage by stating that outraged Democrats and progressives have created by doing everything they can to overturn the election, ranging from spreading “stories” about how Clinton supposedly won the popular vote to making countless claims about his personal life (“We knew we weren’t electing a choir boy”).

Of course we knew we weren’t electing a choir boy, you little goof. Trump’s life is an open book. He hasn’t spent decades carefully crafting his responses, his career, his reputation, his lies for a life of politics. It’s refreshing to see someone with flaws but good intentions, and with the stones to push through the relentlessness of the left to destroy his family, his life, his business, and the wishes of the American People.

And yes, it reveals EXACTLY what the left did during and after the election. ‘Stories’ – sigh. You can’t rewrite history with your terrible review. This is all easily google-able. Even if their liberal-promoting algorithm pushed it down to about page 30.

First they whined about the popular vote. Sorry, popular vote doesn’t mean squat. Hitting the most home runs is meaningless if you don’t get the most players across the home plate. You know how the game was played, stop playing ignorant when you get your butt handed to you. Then you tried to steal electoral votes, by threatening, bribing, whining, screaming at the sky… Then you pushed the Collusion claim, two years later – not a shred of proof. Heck, you’re still trying to overturn the election… now it’s on to impeachment.

This, D’Souza states, is exactly the same thing that Lincoln, the first Republican elected President, faced when he took office and was opposed by a Democratic party that was indeed largely behind slavery and segregation.

It’s called History. Get you some.

Democrats opposed the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments. This isn’t some sort of creation of fact, it’s public record in the recorded votes. Then they created the Jim Crow laws to push segregation. Later they turned dogs and firehouses on black women and children. Until the Republicans, once again, stepped in to bitch slap your party down.

In D’Souza’s mind, this is apparently a mind-blowing revelation (even though he has made it in his last couple of movies) that history has tried to keep silent from the American people, presuming that they never actually crack a history book.

Sigh. I need to print “I survived Liberal Indoctrination!” bumper stickers. But apparently you swallowed Liberal History 101, hook, line, sinker… and bobber.

Now some of you may be thinking that this thesis makes no sense because the Republicans and Democrats essentially switched positions over the years, especially in the wake of the battle for civil rights in the 1960s.

No, no, no, no! This is so easily proven wrong! This is discussed in the movie that apparently you didn’t even watch before writing this wretched excuse of a review! Here… proven wrong in 5 minutes and 19 seconds. The parties never switched! ARGH! This should be mandatory viewing. I’m so tired of this crap. Just because Democrats say something, over and over and over, doesn’t make it true. Which, is a fact ALSO made in the film, because it’s modus operandi for the left. 

Gah – this irks me to no end. Geography has no bearing on values.

This might seem like an enormous oversight, even for a guy who somehow did not realize that he was retweeting messages that included the hashtags #killthejews and #bringbackslavery, but D’Souza has a simple explanation for this—nothing changed, Democrats and progressives continue to be racist monsters and Republicans—the same group actively trying to block black voters from getting to the polls—are the real anti-racists.

And at the end, this goober just gives up on any semblance of unbiasedness and goes all out. I mean, seriously. He accidentally retweeted messages that had garbage in them. Was it an accident that your party supported the systematic slaying of jews and slavery? 

And blocking black voters from getting to the polls?


But we are racist for asking for ID to preserve the sanctity of our elections? The very ones you declare have been stolen by Russian Collusion?

I guess it’s racist to ask for ID for Alcohol and Cigarettes too…right?



You’re just a sorry ignoramus. Go eat a bowl of unwashed ducks.


All that being said, Dinesh D’Souza got his due, even with your stupidity attempt to get in the way. On Amazon he has 4.3 out of 5 ranking after several hundred reviews.

Go watch it. It is really well done, and connects the dots between Democrats from then and now. Little has changed. They want power, control, and they don’t care how they get it.

I’ve seen bigger blue waves in a urinal.

Blog was down, now it’s up. Having some domain issues of my own doing…

But let’s do some somewhat rambling Post-Election talk….

So – Heck Yeah for not only keeping the Senate, but increasing our body count. There’s no stopping our Judicial appointments now! The Democrats better get out the life support for Darth Bader Ginsberg cause their powerless to stop Trumps Nominee’s for the next two years. And the number of judges Trump has appointed, many for life terms, is yuge. This is the sort of stuff that resonates for the next 30-40 years.

Not to mention we replaced several wimpy Senate Republicans. (So long Flake!)

Is now a good time to mention that every single Senator who voted NO on Kavanaugh who was up for election this time lost? #KavanaughsRevenge should be trending…

What else..

Well, there is the House…

First off, to all the US House Republican ‘old guard’ who couldn’t stand Trump and threw in the towel and declared they wouldn’t be running for re-election when the left/media start spewing this talk about the BLUE WAVE coming… yeah – you guys cost us the House.

The re-election percentages for the House incumbents is something like 90-95%. So those 43ish House Republicans who didn’t run, most of their seats flipped – Good job goons. (But hey, at least we drained the swamp of you!)

Second off, losing the house boosts Trumps re-election and Red Wave chances up significantly for 2020. Because after two years of awesomeness, now we are going to witness two years of childish frothing craziness coming from the House trying to subpoena everyone and everything related to Trump. Congress is going to be gridlocked over pettiness, and if Trumps tweets prove anything, most Americans don’t like pettiness from their politicians.

So… the bad news.

Well, according to the stats – Millennials went hard left. Basically the big Republican voter block is the 40ish plus crowd and everyone younger banked towards Socialism. So we’ve got a crummy stretch ahead of us, even if we have a wonderful 6 more years.

In these ‘kids’ defense.. They’ve got bullshit degrees with huge loans. They can’t afford a down payment on a house. They have the highest percentage of ‘basement troll’ status EVER. (By that I mean they live with their parents)…. AND society has babied the crap out of them, giving them participation trophies for nothing and telling them that they are special snowflakes and deserve the world. That ain’t so. No one owes you jack.

I can see the appeal of Socialism to them. That’s not an excuse, it’s just a reality when our Education system fails so terribly to properly educate on why a Democratic Republic is awesome and Socialism/Communism/Collectivism is horrific.

Unfortunately, they’re going to drag us down with them if there isn’t a serious re-awakening in America…. which I don’t foresee as long as the left controls public education. BUT as another fella mentioned to me, the 60’s had a lot of pro-communist kids, and most of them woke up when the real world smacked them in the face with a job, taxes, government regulations and responsibilities. So there is hope that these fools will convert to sensible and wonderful Capitalists still.


Long early morning ramble.

Overall, pretty darn good election.

Speak Truth – Hurt Feelings.

My new motto.

By the way, good morning to everyone except those voting for Socialists, Communists, Collectivists, Democrats, Abortionists and Gun Grabbers. As for you – I hope a cold trickle of rain drips down your spine and makes you shiver like someone walked over the hundreds of millions of graves of the people who have died and suffered throughout history because of the shitty and immoral politics you support.

Anywho – Election day.

Funny how predictable the polls are every election year.

January – Huge Blue Wave!

April – Blue Wave!

July- Blue Wave likely!

August – Blue Wave?

November – Too close to tell!

(November 7th – UPSET!)

There’s never any mention of a suspected RED WAVE. Even though I suspect, and pray, that’s whats going to happen today. Because after the last two years of an extremely successful Trump Presidency, and seeing the viciousness, pettiness, immorality, VIOLENCE, the great lengths of EVIL they will go to destroy someone… coming from the left… anyone without a lobotomy should be voting Republican.

I’m not even sure what the left is running on now. I reckon Pure Trump Hatred and Raw Emotion. Because he’s just so – uncouth…. and he says mean things!

BTW – Did you see the Great Racists himself, POTUS Trump, just declared that his first National Monument will be for Black Soldiers during the Civil War?

I guess the left reckons it will be a giant monument of Trump standing on a Plantation cracking a whip. You know, like the Democrats did when they ran the south, and fought against the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments, and supported the Jim Crow Laws, and fought against Civil Rights… and all that stuff that they like to pretend they aren’t still doing.


Anyways. Go Vote.

Then brace yourself for the wave of progressive violence from the ‘Love Trumps Hate’ crowd that is bound to come after the left is defeated.


EDIT – I’m gonna repost this from the FALFILES forum. This was during a debate where a lot of people were saying they weren’t going to vote…

This is my response:


Look – I’ve heard and see this garbage all the time. They all suck, don’t vote, it’s not worth it, Republicans are just as bad, blah blah.

It’s annoying.

First off – I disagree with the notion that the party’s are two sides of the same coin. One side is intrinsically worse.

Second off – You basically only have two choices. Sorry, you don’t get ‘Perfect Choice’ on the ballot, ever. Accept the ebbs and flows of who runs and relentlessly push for the best. Or run yourself. Geez.

But this ridiculousness, of “Refuse to vote! I won’t be Governed! Suck it bitches! RESIST!”

No one gives a crap that you didn’t vote. The government certainly doesn’t care. But the Democrats thank you for your support Comrade, because you basically just gave them a +1.