There’s something seriously wrong, folks. The default position in our country has shifted. When the day comes that we have to petition our government and its employees to NOT use chemical weapons on us, we should get rid of that government. People, that day is not coming. It’s here.
I have to have these signs on my property:
To keep from getting this:
And even then, I have to rely on the good nature of the truck’s driver and hope that he 1)can read and 2)is even paying attention to what he’s doing.
But wait! Lots of people say that stuff’s not hazardous to us. I’m a fool according to their logic. The problem is that stuff is the same stuff these gentlemen are spraying:
If it’s not hazardous to us, what’s with the suits, fellows? Give me a break. This:
is scarier and more deadly to us than this:
The latter is going to blow us up immediately, and its destruction is going to be limited in area and duration. The former isn’t just going to kill me or you, but it’s going to kill everybody. If you believe farmers can keep:
dumping millions and millions of pounds of Monsanto’s poisons into our environment year after year without negative consequences for us all, you far more optimistic than I am. More likely, this hat’s for you:
I’d ask, “What the hell is the world coming to?” but I already know the answer to that one: an End. Lots and loads of things out there are contributing to that inevitability, but are something things speeding us along unnecessarily? I think I know the answer to that one, too.
My default position was, is, and always will be, if I want chemical weapons used on me, I’ll ask for it. Until then, Government you and your big-money, bed-buddy Monsanto can go straight to hell. I neither need nor want either of you.
Me and Belle set out this morning to begin the yearly daunting task of Getting Ready to Hunt–it’s almost a season itself! Thank God the weather was a little cooler for us today. It was overcast and I don’t think either of us missed the blistering sun. We’ll complain about that tomorrow. For today, our job was to clear the trail to the blind. This was in the way.
Stihl’s Farm Boss 290 made the cutting easy, and I could’ve used the four-wheeler to drag the pieces out of the trail. But did I? Heck no. Where’s the exercise in that? No complaints. The whole job took thirty-seven minutes, and yes, as a matter of fact, I timed it. It’s what I do…don’t ask. When we finished, the trail looked like this.
Job one complete. The next job will be to clear shooting lanes in front of the blind. That job is ZERO fun. Instead of taking half an hour, it’ll take a couple days.
There’s the blind sitting in weeds I entered because and only because I was wearing my snakebite boots. It is overlooking a creek, and the cottonmouths are never far away this time of year. Luckily, I didn’t see any today. You can tell by the following pictures that I have some weeds to clear.
Ah the exercise! Ah the sweat. I have a few months to work on this project so there’s no hurry. Belle says goodbye and God bless.
We’re getting ready to say goodbye to our little garden for another year, and what a year it’s been. Probably our best tomato crop ever, and the peas, butterbeans, and Rattlesnake green beans have all produced above our expectations. The watermelons and cantaloupes are just now getting ripe, and if you think we’re all smiles about that, you aren’t mistaken.
Dinner time! Monsanto has its dirty little fingers all over Mississippi but not in our house. This is real food, organically grown, and lusted over like sin.
Yesterday was Purple Hull Pea shelling day. Today their getting hot on one eye while the quart jars (Mason jars with Ball rings and lids. Never use any other brand unless you enjoy cleaning out the pressure cooker and losing a quart of produce) are boiling inside the pressure canner. The eggs are not being canned. That’s part of my dinner.
That’s our hen house where the eggs came from. Usually, the birdies come around to eyeball me whenever I call them, but today, they were shy. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough acreage to free-range them safely. I’m fighting a near constant battle with the wild critters in the area to keep the hens safe inside the enclosure. There are four roosters in there for a second line of defense, but one is the grandfather and has settled in to a supervisory position.
We’re not fullblown preppers, kinda novices, but we’re learning. We’ve canned quite a bit of food this summer and will enjoy it all winter long. Thank God for five cases of tomato juice, 2.5 cases of purple hull peas, 2 cases of Rattlesnake beans, and 2 cases of butterbeans. Real food only. Fake food is not welcome on this hill.
So, I finished adding my reading list from June 2016 to May of this year. About halfway through the year, I started a 1 to 10 rating system. It wasn’t meant to be shared with anyone so the lack of a detailed review didn’t hurt the system any, but now that it is being shared, I see its blaring problem. What the hell does it mean? In my mind, it was basically a “Do I Want to Read This Book Again?” The answer to that question was answered for me by a quick glance at its numerical rating.
A rating of 5 or higher meant I’d read the book again. The higher the rating the sooner I’d be willing to reread it. See? Simple.
I had trouble rating any book very low, and I noticed that some of the books I rated on the low side were older books. Age, to me, is not an automatic kill for a book. Hell, some of the best books are the oldest. In my library, the problem with age is not the book’s actual age but its relative age. The older my books are the more times I’ve read them, because I am a rereader. Please keep that in mind with the older books on the list. If I’d had my rating system in place the first time I read those books, they’d likely been rated much higher.
Finally got around to putting up my first Reading List. I started keeping up with such things in June of 2015. As I really got into the record keeping, I started tracking when I finished a particular book. I liked that so much that I started tracking when I started a new read to see how long it took me to finish a particular book. I thought of it as a half-assed attempt at a rating scale. Saying if it took me a week to finish a book that it was probably a more enjoyable read than one that took a month to finish. You can easily see the problem with the scale: Not all books are the same. Some have 80K words and some have twice or three times that many. And there’s the problem of life. One month might afford ample reading time while another month’s reading time might be severely limited. So in late 2016, I started a 1-to-10 rating scale (I couldn’t bring myself to actually rate any book a 0). It is now August 2017, and if time will allow, I’m going to supply a detailed opinion to accompany the numerical rating. Life may or may not permit that. Anyway, read on folks. There are quite a few books out there, and they ain’t going to read themselves.