No one likes Party Poopers on Memorial Day.

I posted this on Facebook Sunday and felt it was relevant enough to move here and go more in depth.


Personally, if I got waxed by some poop head… I’d want everyone I know to grill out, drink some beers, eat burgers, shoot some guns, and enjoy a three day Memorial weekend however they want.

Because that’s freedom. Freedom from the very people that our vets died defending it from. You know what freedom is?

It’s cooking a fat burger over charcoal instead of being forced to attend public book burning or mass indoctrination rallies.

It’s about drinking a cold beer with the boys instead of wondering if your door will be kicked in during the middle of the night and your family taken to some gulag where you’ll be worked to death or executed because you have a college degree.

It’s about throwing water balloons at your kids instead of worrying if your daughter will be stoned to death as a ‘honor killing’ if she is sexually assaulted.

It’s about wearing American colored sun glasses on a boat instead of worrying about gas shortages, eating rats, or prostituting yourself to survive. (Looking at you Venezuela)

It’s about lounging in lawn chairs instead of worrying if you’ve got enough food in your underground bunker in case the Russkies or North Koreans nuke us.

It’s about being able to freely and openly bicker with your family about your differing political views without worry of being labeled a dissident and snatched off with a bag over your head to be dropped into a mass grave.

THAT’S what our vets defend us and others against!

And if we Americans can’t enjoy our way of life, then what was the point of their sacrifice?

You want to place flags on all the vets graves? Right on!

You want to pour a forty on your battle buddies grave? Sounds good!

You want to see a flag at half mast and throw up a quick prayer to our Lord and Savior, to thank Him for gracing our existence with such men who would selflessly die for others? Awesome!

You want to drive four hours and play in a swimming pool with your family? DO IT.

You want to grill some tasty meat? DO IT.

This is America.

Every day is the Fourth of July. Every day is Veterans Day. Every day is Memorial Day.


And I’m not about to bash someone for having a good time on Memorial Day by assuming they don’t care about our honored dead.

Is that… is that…? YES! YES IT IS! BOOK ART!

By the talented Mike Katoglou.

Not to give much away, but yes… There is a running train fight scene that involves a Gatling Gun, Triceratops, and Giant Apes trying to kill everyone. Cause if you’re gonna go for awesome, then go awesome.


Cowboys V Apes final

(I’ve got to frame this bad boy. And if I get a choice, he’s doing the book cover.)





Chunky Monkey – An example of womanly RAGE.

I think I’ve spent the past three or four days on one stupid scene that’s really not even that important. Because it involves a bunch of dialogue about convincing the Governor to send soldiers to help defend a town.

And it’s just boorrrinnngggg…..

But action scenes, that’s where it’s at.


Here are two examples. The first is just dialogue. Bleh. The second is dialogue… with ACTION!


“Hey Jan,” Michael said with a smile as he tossed his laptop bag on the coffee table.

“Hey yourself, how was work?” She asked as she closed the refrigerator door and opened the freezer.

“It was work. I got a 1% raise today.”

“Oh that’s nice honey.” He could tell she wasn’t really paying attention as she moved the frozen tater tots and chicken nuggets aside. “Hey, where is the Chunky Monkey ice cream?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep last night and I finished it off.” He reached around her with a pen and wrote ice cream in bad cursive on the grocery list notepad that was stuck on the front of the refrigerator door.

“But, it’s my favorite!” She pouted.



[“All Aboard the Murder Train” from How I Met Your Mother blares in the background]

Michael kicked the door open and dove inside, avoiding the fatal front as his arch nemesis blew a chunk out of the door frame. He heard her pump the shotgun as she ducked back behind the wall and into the other room.

“Look, I’m sorry!” He screamed as he simultaneously tried to press himself flat against the wall and peek around the corner at the same time. It wasn’t really working well. He couldn’t see anything but a pile of dirty laundry still in it’s basket.

“It was mine! And you took it from me!” She yelled in return.

He dunked instinctively as a basketball size hole suddenly appeared above his head, showering him with sheet rock dust and bits of insulation as she guessed where he was.

Spinning onto his back, he used his steel toed Wolverine size 15 boots to push himself backwards. As he slid away on the cold linoleum, he drew the massive Ruger Super Redhawk revolver from it’s holster across his chest and thumbed back the hammer. Grimacing at the recoil he was about to feel,  he sighted between his raised knees, and pulled the trigger.

The boom was deafening as the 400 grain .454 Casull DoubleTap bullet slammed through the Sheetrock wall, snapping the 2×4 stud in half, and leaving a fist sized hole as it blasted through the house leaving a trail of destruction and onward to never-never land. Or the neighbors house, whichever. Jim still hadn’t returned the rake he borrowed anyways.

His ears rang as he cocked the pistol again and tried to peer through the gun holes in the wall. He coughed as the dust from the destruction found its way into his lungs.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

BOOM! Cha-Chunk! BOOM!

The first slug hit the floor beside him and punched through and into his man cave downstairs as he scrambled to get behind the kitchen island. A shotgun pump later and the second shot was higher this time, blowing pictures and magnets off the refrigerator door as she wrongly assumed he had taken cover there.

“It was just ice cream! There was barely any left!”

He pushed himself to his knees and rested the butt of the pistol on top of a cutting board covered with half sliced carrots and a tomato while carefully lining up the iron sights. The round door knobs on the cabinet doors dug into his chest as he braced himself.

“You try working customer service and see how HANGRY YOU GET FOR CHUNKY MONKEY!” She screeched in a murderous rage.

Looks like take out tonight. He pulled the trigger back, watching the cylinder rotate until a fresh cartridge was under the firing pin. Slowly he began incrementally adding pressure as he focused on the front sight, until suddenly the trigger broke clean and the hammer dropped.


The muzzle blast flung the plastic salad bowl across the room and bits of romaine lettuce and spinach rained down from the heavens around him.

“I’ll buy you more!”

“I don’t WANT MORE! I want want you ATE! I’m going to rip it out of your intestines with my BARE HANDS!”

He shuddered and carefully sized up the window above the sink, trying to gauge if he could fit through it. Because sleeping on the couch tonight suddenly didn’t feel very safe.


See? Action = Cool.

Dialogue = Only cool in action.

Otherwise it’s lame-o.


(EDIT – Dick Casull, who invented the .454 Casull round died two weeks ago. So I figured I would use that round just for kicks and giggles.)

Teachers and Guns

No one is saying Teachers should be FORCED to carry a gun, that’s foolish. What we are saying is that they should be given the OPTION of carrying. I heard one poor lady on the news today talking about how if she’s sitting cross legged on the mat with a bunch of little kids and a gunman breaks in, she didn’t think she could draw and shoot fast enough.

Okay, fair enough. But what about when you hear gunfire and screams as a shooter is kicking open doors and moving unopposed down the hallway? Do you have time to react then?

When your kids are huddled in the corner, desks piled around them, cowering in fear and absolute terror – would you like the OPTION of being able to point a pistol at the door in case he comes in?

Some would. Some wouldn’t. Either is fine, personal choice. But I’d prefer my kids had the “Would Carry Teacher”.

Teacher Pay sucks for the most part. But most Conceal Carry Instructors either give discounts or FREE classes to Teachers. And I wouldn’t doubt for a second that gun makers won’t jump up and offer Teacher Discounts.

Heck, as an added bonus – Maybe we’ll stop seeing all these ridiculous videos of students body slamming teachers and start seeing some respect come back into the classroom. That’s not a ‘point a snub nose .38 in the kids face for respect’ suggestion, although if he’s threatening violence, by all means. Point away. But an armed society is a polite society.

And look – if you don’t trust your kids teacher being ARMED around your kid, then you probably shouldn’t trust them educating your kid.

Maybe the Teachers Union’s should start pushing for Hazard/Combat Pay in schools that don’t allow conceal carry. If you’re going to risk being nothing but a meat shield, you might as well get paid a little extra for it.

Utah has been doing this for ten years or more with no issues. Israel has been doing it for 40 plus years and terrorist attacks on schools have stopped because it’s not a ‘soft target’ anymore. They also practice school shooting drills.

You know how long it’s been since we had a kid die in a school fire after we implemented Fire Drills? Zero. In sixty years. At some point you gotta cut the crap and look for what works even if it makes you uncomfortable.

Once upon a time people freaked out at the idea of Sky Marshall’s and Pilots carrying guns on planes – Still haven’t seen a bullet puncture a window and half a plane get torn off and send it spiraling down into a van full of nuns headed out to feed the homeless. Killing everyone… worst case scenarios and irrational fears and whatnot. But gee, we don’t see many Hijacking’s anymore. The 80’s was full of them though! It was weekly it seems.

I dunno. Look. No one is saying Teachers should go hunt a school shooter down. We are just saying that our kids, oh yeah.. by the way. Us evil NRA people, we got kids too. And we want them to live too. So they can grow up and vote against your kids.

But yeah, we ALL want kids to live and grow up to be troublesome teenagers and eventual responsible adults. And I want teachers, who are willing, to learn how to handle firearms and carry if they wish and protect them.

Because when that door gets kicked open, and some madman comes stomping in with his trench coat billowing and guns a’ blazing, I’d really appreciate if you would shoot back instead of letting my kids get slaughtered under a desk as they curl into a ball.

And if this latest shooting teaches us anything, it should be that you can not rely on anyone else for help. FOUR DEPUTIES were outside the school when the shooting was happening. They did nothing. In the moment of violence, there is only YOU and them. There is no waiting for backup, or help. Either you take the mantle of possible victim or you refuse to be one who goes quietly into the blood soaked night.

Fact of the matter is, American ain’t safe anymore. Society is getting sicker and more demented with every passing year. Banning guns is a mathematical impossibility. And not just because you can’t have mine, ever. But the underlying root of it all, an evil rotten immoral sick twisted mentality that we’ve allowed to fester amongst our kids and society – it ain’t going away.

So buckle up, buy guns, get training, and don’t be afraid to spank your kids until they behave. Respect for self and others begins at home.


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