This is a story that caught my attention because it’s unusual so say the least. The body of a Benedictine nun named Wilhelmina Lancaster was exhumed last week after being buried for four years. Amazingly, the body shows little if no degradation or rotting. Her body was not embalmed before her burial and she was buried in a simple wooden box.

This is amazing because nobody can explain how or why this could happen. The article says it’s considered a possible sign of sainthood in Catholicism.

I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but this is where my brain is having difficulty making sense of this. Why did they exhume this lady after four years? Were they curious to see what she looked like? Is this common to dig up nuns every four years and check them out.

The article says this is a possible sign of sainthood. So, is this how they determine who is eligible for sainthood if they haven’t rotted? I’m sorry if I sound callused here, but this is a weird story.


Jeeze, look around you, is that so hard to figure out? Human beings have been on this planet for a very long time, and still haven’t progressed to the point where they can coexist without killing each other and trying to steal each other’s real estate. The society in this country alone is on a downhill slide, with no hope in sight that anyone can stop it.

If AI is the supreme problem solver, my guess is that a lot of people are going to start going missing. I could put together a pretty long list to get this moving forward. Yep, my guess is that when they talk about AI being very dangerous, they know that stupidity is likely going to be the primary target, and that puts most politicians in immediate jeopardy. Just a guess here, but if AI had been running at full speed in 2020, nobody would have ever heard of Anthony Fauci.

If I was Randi Weingarten, I would be really worried. If I were her, I would get all computers out of the house immediately.


John Cleese, the English actor famous for ‘Monty Python’ and ‘ Life of Brian’ is going to do a stage version of ‘Life of Brian’. There is a scene in the ‘Life of Brian’ that is deemed transphobic by today’s standards. He is under pressure to remove that scene, and he is refusing to do so, and says he has no intention of “caving to the cancel crowd”. (paraphrased)

The critics want to cut the famous “Loretta” scene from the 1979 movie. The scene features a male character that wants to be a woman named “Loretta” and demands the right to have children. Claiming it’s every man’s right to have babies if he wants them.

John Cleese just happens to be one of the funniest men ever. I have not seen all of his movies but watched his British TV comedy called “Faulty Towers” which was riotously funny and very politically incorrect. I’m not surprised by his reaction saying he has no intention of removing the scene.


I can’t verify this, but watching her over the past few years, I’m pretty sure her life goal is to make sure everyone in the world has seen her boobs at least once. Those things seem to get loose more than what you would consider normal. One of them popped out at the Cannes Film Festival in the past few days. I think women do that when they don’t have much else to offer.


I didn’t bother reading the article, because I really don’t have any interest at all in what the ‘Terminator’ has to say. However, I do know in his case it has caused mental delusions that he claims to be a Republican when it’s very clear he is actually a Democrat. The fact he still resides in California automatically nullifies any importance in what he has to say.


Please set aside some time this weekend to remember those brave souls that stepped onto the battlefield on our behalf, to perpetuate our freedoms and protect our beloved nation. We owe these brave men and women a huge debt, Make a payment on that debt by remembering their ultimate sacrifice.






It’s becoming obvious to the most casual observer, that Americans are not going to tolerate having the woke agenda shoved down their throats. Major push back against woke themed merchandise and gay themed activities is happening all around America. In my opinion, this is the beginning of an all out push by everyday folks to purge the nonsense being forced on them by the left.

Marketing executives that are so short sighted that they can’t see this trend coming should be fired immediately. They alone are responsible for the company’s losses. Why can’t these mega corporations just stick to selling their products and keep it simple, keep it clean. These morons know the difference between right and wrong, they know what’s offensive and what isn’t. It ain’t rocket science. Target joins Anheuser Busch, Disney, and a host of others that have fallen ill from the “woke flu”. The Dodgers are about to be next over the catering to the anti Catholic group. The hockey leagues learned pretty quickly to steer clear of queer.

I think most Americans, me included don’t give a rip about your sexual activities. However, when your sexual activities start having an impact on my life, and you expect me to endorse your weirdness, sorry I’m no longer a player. I’m simply not interested in participating.


Nordstrom has slashed 379 jobs in San Francisco store closures. They are closing both of their downtown stores due to crime and theft. Feral people living on the streets also create an unpleasant and dangerous environment to potential shoppers. When you go downtown to a high end department store to shop, it’s an uplifting experience. Not so much when you have to walk around unconscious drug addicts and avoid piles of human excrement, and even possibly witness a feral person making a deposit on the sidewalk.

What we have is yet another example of totally moronic decisions by city officials, that are literally killing a once beautiful city because of negligence and dereliction of duty. The solution is so simple, so basic, I don’t know why they can’t grapple with enforcing the law, and making it illegal to camp in public areas. The apathy of law enforcement encourages more crime and human suffering. Allowing open drug use, and encouraging it by providing free paraphernalia, and safe places to “shoot up” just exacerbates the problem. Drug use needs to be illegal period. Clean up the city streets and make them safe for law abiding citizens. These leftist idiots are turning over our beautiful cities to the criminals and forcing the law abiding citizens out. How does that possibly make any sense? This scenario is playing out in Portland, Seattle, Oakland, Los Angeles, New York City, and Houston, Chicago, and Baltimore.


NEURALINK, a neurotechnology company was co-founded by Elon Musk in 2016 with the goal of implanting microchips into human brains. The FDA rejected the application in 2022 over safety concerns. The company has been working through the safety concerns and has succeeded in obtaining approval.

When Musk launched NEURALINK in 2016 his goal was to allow humans to interact with computers and control complex electronics. As the idea developed, there is hope the implants can reverse the affects of all sorts of neurological issues such as Alzheimer’s, Parkinsons and dementia.

While these are lofty goals, and exciting to think serious neurological disorders could be cured, it’s also just a little scary to think about being able to control a persons brain. Sounds like a sci-fi novel to scare you half to death. How about being able to switch off the parts of the brain that controls aging and turn on the youthful production of hormones we once enjoyed. Reversing the deterioration of the body. The whole concept is admittedly exciting.


Hope you like the new look. I was getting really bored with the same old stuff, so I upgraded my site to take advantage of more customization options. I will continue to experiment with this new stuff and try to make it look better in the coming weeks. Hope everyone enjoys the coming summer months and being outdoors. I know I will. God Bless all of you and your families.



MAY 3, 2023



What I am about to say is not really breaking news, the infrastructure in this country was built by private companies with some of the most brilliant architects and civil engineers in the world. Up until the civil infrastructure started being controlled by politicians, it was the best in the world, hands down. When I lived in California from the 60’s through the 90’s, electrical power was totally reliable. The politicians have wrecked it.

Infrastructure, or the stuff that makes our nation function was not designed or developed by politicians. Granted quite a few highways and bridges are the result of “pork barrel spending”, or in other words, spending taxpayer money to buy votes. Nope, the infrastructure was designed and developed by architects and civil engineers, to make traffic flow better, to bring gas, electricity, and water to areas where it was sorely needed. Politicians likely had a hand in making sure the money was available, but that’s where their contributions ended.

The infrastructure in the United States is the best in the world. It has evolved over at least 150 years, constantly being improved and upgraded. One of the reasons our utilities are superior is that the developers realized how important it was to have balanced power. Why do airplanes have four engines? If one fails, there are three more to prevent it from crashing. In our homes, we depend on water, electricity, and natural gas, or some other form of fossil fuel. Together, they provide us with a safe and healthy environment.

Out of all three, electricity is the least dependable. The reason of course is that it is delivered via power lines above ground, and is susceptible to severe weather, and all sorts of other catastrophes. If you are living in an area with super cold winters and your power goes out, you can keep from freezing to death with a gas or oil furnace, and a gasoline generator. If you are depending on electricity alone, you could easily die. If your home has natural gas, you can take hot baths during a power outage. Not so if you have an electric water heater.

The absolute most sensible thing you can do, is to equip your home with an emergency stand by generator, powered by natural gas. Now you have all the bases covered. These generators are made by a number of companies and are virtually foolproof. They power up monthly to “exercise” and check themselves for problems. All you have to do is perform very routine maintenance. When the automatic sensors detect a loss of city power, they start up in seconds, you don’t even realize there is a power outage. Best of all, you don’t have to worry about fuel, you won’t run out of natural gas. Also, it’s much safer than storing gasoline.

So, the geniuses in power are attempting to make the switch to renewable energy very quickly and the infrastructure to support this isn’t anywhere near being ready. California is a perfect example, they are pushing to outlaw fossil fuel powered vehicles very soon, and they can’t keep up with the current electrical demands. Adding millions of electric vehicles is just going to exacerbate the problem. To give you another example of the stupidity of politicians, California just deactivated the San Onofre nuclear power plant which has a stellar safety record.

The state of Oregon, home to the largest contingency of idiots in the world, who think it’s a really good idea to destroy all of the hydroelectric dams, in the name of saving salmon or something. These are the same folks that think it’s a bad idea to dredge rivers to protect cities from flooding and people drowning to save salmon or something. These are the same people that think cutting down forests (a primary renewable resource) to build inexpensive homes for humans in order to save owls is a brilliant idea. While they are doing all of these brilliant environmental deeds, they have legalized every mind-altering drug known to man, while simultaneously creating a giant homeless population drugged out it’s mind. These people are the shining example of having shit for brains.

While doing research for this article, I came across several websites that claimed we only have about 50 to 75 years of fossil fuel left on the earth. Then I came across other sites that claimed we have more reserves now than we had in 1980. The bottom line here, in my opinion, nobody really knows how much fossil fuel is remaining, and how quickly the earth replenishes it. If we learned nothing more from the past two years, it’s that science is incredibly politicized. I’m not sure we can trust anything these people say. It seems everyone these days has some sort of an agenda.

So, if we have only 75 to 100 years of fossil fuels left, think about this; If you were born today, you likely would not see it end. All of the folks that are grimacing about this now and having panic attacks will likely be dead in the next 30 to 40 years. So my advice is to do one of two things; become seriously religious and find peace with God, or eat drink and be merry, because any way you look at it, you aint’ got much longer to worry about it. As for me, I love fossil fuels, I like big fast powerful gasoline powered vehicles, and I’m driving ’em till I die. I have a balanced power home and I’m stayin’ right here ’til I die. So all of you politicians with shit for brains can put all of those ugly ass windmills and solar panels where the sun don’t shine.



APRIL 26, 2023



It has been twenty-three days since my last article. It’s a good thing I don’t depend on this blog for my survival. Those of you who have followed my blog over the past several years, know that I have been predicting this day in time for a while now. I’m not some kind of prophet or clairvoyant, I just watch and listen, and it’s pretty obvious what is going to happen. It’s sort of like seeing a car sitting on the tracks of a railroad crossing, sooner or later, the inevitable will occur. The left has been setting us up for this event for years. They feel it’s time to go in for the kill.

Another thing I have been pointing out for a couple of years, is the total ineptitude of the Republican party. Don’t count on these morons to come riding in on white horses to save us, they are too busy playing “footsies” with the Dems. We now have a uni-party ruling class that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the average everyday hardworking American. When was the last time you heard any of these dumbasses talk about legislation designed to improve your lives? Donald Trump does, he is pretty much a lone voice. Sorry, you’re just a “worker bee”, a taxpayer paying taxes so these leaches can live high on the hog and get richer and richer while you get poorer and poorer.

So, by now you probably figured out that I am a mixture of pissed and depressed. I just haven’t been able to muster up the desire to write about it. All of the government institutions that I have trusted my whole life have been corrupted, and weaponized against the people. It’s literally like being bound and gagged, and forced to watch someone burn and loot your home. Have you noticed as of late, that the feds are openly using the IRS to go after their perceived enemies? How do you fend off the IRS? They can take everything you own, and you won’t be able to stop them. The feds will bankrupt you in lawsuits. Sorry, but unless the federal government is willing to play by the rules of the Constitution and Bill of Rights, we don’t stand a chance.

Take a moment and read the warnings of our founding fathers, who very well understood what could happen in the future, and why.


Joe Biden announced that he plans on running for president again in 2023. In the video produced for the announcement, a new slogan was unveiled, “Finish the Job”. Well in light of the last two- and one-half years, that is a very ominous slogan. Did you ever imagine that our 250 year old nation could be dismantled in a mere four year term of a madman?

I listened to the video out of curiosity, and believe me, there was not a shred of truth in the whole video. It was 100% lies from start to finish. That really shouldn’t be a surprise, his whole presidency has been one big lie. I mean c’mon man, just the fact that they tell you he is in charge is a total lie. He doesn’t even know where he is half the time. In my opinion, this has been the third term of Obama, Susan Rice, and Ron Klaine. Biden is just a stooge.


You didn’t think I was going to ignore the biggest news story of the year did you? I am a huge fan of Mr. Carlson. No question, he is one of the greatest, if not the greatest journalists of my lifetime. Tucker is one of those unique people that is able to sort out the B.S. and find the truth. The truth that Tucker speaks, makes a lot of people extremely uncomfortable. Those are the people that are liars and cheats. Chuck Schumer is one of those people, along with countless others in power. The fact that “Chuckie Boy” wanted him fired from Fox speaks volumes. The celebration of Tucker’s firing at the Pentagon today likely made Tucker very proud. These people will all fall, the truth will prevail.

I would advise Tucker to be very cautious at this point in this life. This firing has only enhanced his popularity, and power. He needs to think clearly about his next move and make it count. Several people have mentioned him entering into politics. In my opinion, that would be a disastrous choice. His voice will be lost in the noise and chaos of Washington D.C. I think he is more valuable to the cause of the right as a pundit, insulated from those who want him silenced. Rush was a super influential voice, Tucker has the talent to surpass what Rush did. Please do not think I am in any way diminishing Rush, he was great, and should always be respected.

The past few days have been pretty sad around our house, it feels like we lost a family member since Tucker is not showing up every day. Five o clock was the “Tucker and coffee” hour. I took no phone calls for that time period. Hell, even my dog was excited to join me on my recliner and share my daily cookie (s).

But, there is really a bigger issue at play here. The left was powerful enough to get a favorite of the right, 3 to 4 million viewers per day, removed from his forum. I don’t know about you, but I find that more than disturbing. The fed is apparently able to decide who you watch on TV. Are you beginning to feel like you’re living in the “Matrix”?


I have been wanting to change the format of my blog for sometime now, but just haven’t taken the time to make it happen. I have decided to upgrade to a better plan, and launch a new look soon. Perhaps sell some merchandise such as my “Toxic Male” T shirt design shown below, and copywrited by Benzartworx.

Stay alert, stay strong, resist the movement to strip us of our freedom. God bless all of you and your families.



APRIL 3, 2023



My plan was to take a break from writing about how our country is being torn apart by the Marxist left. I just wanted to push it out of my mind for a while before I ended up being John Fetterman’s roommate. It’s absolutely depressing to watch. It’s like being locked in a cage, helpless, while someone is destroying your home.

I think the part that is most disturbing, is this is being done by our own government. The government has turned on its own citizens. The government wants to transform the United States into something the citizens are totally against. It’s becoming very apparent that the transition is going to happen, like it or not.

In the past when new innovations such as electric vehicles were introduced, the government didn’t do it. Private companies went out on limb and attempted to market their products. It was up to the consumer to embrace the new technology or reject it. Nobody forced it down your throat. In the 1930’s Chrysler brought out a new car that was amazing, the Chrysler Airflow. It had a ton of new features and far safer than any car presently on the market. Buyers weren’t interested, it tanked. That is precisely how a capitalistic democracy works.

What you are witnessing right now has nothing to do with climate, or clean energy. This is all about creating a new form of government in which you are not allowed to participate. This is all about scrapping the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. This is about the death of capitalism and the overall reign of communism. The people in Washington D.C. are tired of playing the Representative Republic game, they want to rule without all of these pesky folks interfering.

If they convert virtually everything to electric, they control the power grid. If they control the power grid, they control you and everything you do. That’s the beauty of electric meters. You will only be allotted a certain amount of electricity. Confiscating your guns, no problem. Guns are just useless pieces of steel and wood without ammunition, and the government can outlaw sales of ammunition to the public in a heartbeat. They don’t have to ban your guns. The Bill of Rights didn’t mention ammo. My advice is learn how reload, and stock up on powder.


Lenin and Stalin used the “sledgehammer” approach. They just demolished the church buildings. The modern day Marxists are taking a different approach, and it started years ago very quietly. The left has used the public schools and universities to slowly and gradually turn students away from religion in very subtle ways. It’s working very well. Today 63% of American consider themselves as Christian, down from 75% just a decade ago. Church membership in the U.S. dropped below 50% for the first time in 2020, according to data going back to 1940. Do you think the ban on attending church during the Covid era was to prevent the spread of the disease, or the spread of Christianity? I think you know how I feel.

The cornerstone of a strong nation is strong family units. Church attendance builds strong families. Christian churches bestow kindness and compassion on youngsters, and teach them how to respect their neighbors. Christianity also teaches honesty, and respect for the property of others, and obedience of the laws of man, as well as the laws of God.

However, the biggest problem for totalitarian regimes, is that Christians worship God, not governments or government leaders. Christians only bow to God. Christians believe it’s their place to determine what is put into the minds of their children, not the states. Christian children will resist brain washing, they know right from wrong. That is a problem for the state run school system. Programming the thoughts of non-Christian children is a much easier task.


If the goal is to control the population, you have to get rid of that pesky middle class. They cause way too much trouble. People who struggle to survive are much easier to control. They don’t have the means to resist, they are just trying to feed themselves and afford shelter. The wealthy people are the government bureaucrats, they will always live in luxury on the backs of the poor. This is not theory, it’s a matter of history. The history books are full of data on Russia, China, and every other socialist regime that has existed in this world. The best example you could ask for is 90 miles off the coast of Florida.

The argument you always hear is that communism doesn’t work. Well it does work if you are the government. It sucks if your a peon. If you’re a peon, you don’t stand a chance. You have nothing. You have very little money or food. You depend on the government for your medical care. They have disarmed you. You are like a de-clawed cat. You can’t fight back. Personal transportation is very limited, you rely on government transportation, or bicycles. Life is bleak and barren.

This is the leftist plan for America. This is what the Green New Deal is all about. Read it for yourselves and see if this sounds like America.

The document above is a blueprint for transforming the United States into a socialist nation, and turning into something totally unrecognizable, from the Constitutional state we currently live in. This document is a lie, and designed to scare the living hell out of everyone. No factual data just pure and simple propaganda. One of the authors of this admitted it’s not about climate, it’s about transforming the American economy.


This plot is the product of very brilliant minds that have studied and implemented these ideas around the world and have brought down countless governments. They can be defeated, but the battle must begin before it’s too late. Right now, the people still have the power to stop it. But, it will take a strong leader, to lead us out of impending disaster. We are still armed and can still save the Republic. I’m old, the young warriors need to arise and take up the fight. It needs to be done in a peaceful way, but as long as the general public remains armed, they remain a larger threat to the real insurrectionists. The real insurrectionists are the ones trying to overthrow the current government and replace it with something else. Why do you think they are trying to hang that title on us? THEY ARE LIARS!



MARCH 23, 2023



As I was thinking about this article and where to resume my young life story, I realized our lives are sort of a series of phases we go through. As a youngster, the phases are pretty much dominated by your school years, elementary school, middle school, and high school. Each of these phases brings new challenges, friendships, and higher learning. So far, the experiences I have written about in the first two installments, have been elementary school. During the summer before starting seventh grade, the closer it came to September, the more intense the apprehension became.

Of course, all of the stories the older kids told us made it worse. As lowly seventh graders, we were the targets of the older boys. It was true, we did get harassed by the older boys, but it wasn’t as bad as we had been told. After the first three months everything pretty much got back to normal.

While going through all of the apprehension of the first few months, I had to deal with another problem. My hands started getting large blisters on the palms and bottoms of my fingers. They would break and become open sores. During the first few months of beginning middle school, I looked like a burn victim. My hands were wrapped in bandages. My mom took me to several doctors, none of them had a clue as to what was wrong. In the end, when it all passed, my fingers were scarred so badly, I lost almost all traces of my fingerprints. Ten years ago, I had to be fingerprinted for a job with the school district, and after two attempts, they gave up.

When I was in my early 40’s, I was going through some pretty stressful times. The skin on my hands started to peel as if there had been tiny blistering. The light came on over my head like a 300 watt flood light. What happened to my hands when I was beginning middle school was the result of super stressful times. I realized at that moment that I had a problem with neurosis, and just knowing that made a huge difference in how I dealt with problems in the future. Expressing your feelings, and talking about them, not trying to hide them, is a pressure relief valve. After that revelation, I never experienced the problem again.

As a seventh grader, you’re sort of invisible, just another body going through the motions of the school life. But as you get closer to moving into the eighth grade, you kind of start getting in the groove. You start realizing who the “in crowd” is, and I wanted to be in the “in crowd”. Why shouldn’t I be, I grew up with most of these kids. So, I started to analyze how you become popular. Well, the first thing that became apparent was you had to dress right. My parents just bought my school clothes like they always did, at J.C. Penney’s. The “in crowd” didn’t wear clothes from J.C.P. If you wanted to be noticed, you wore 501 Levi’s and really cool shirts. I had a leg up on this situation, my older sister loved me, and loved clothes, and she had a job. My parents bought me some Levi’s and my sister bought me some really cool shirts, and an honest to goodness gold ring with a beautiful blue sapphire. Got me some black penny loafers to top it all off and restyled my hair. I was rolling with the big dogs.

By the ninth grade, I was totally in the groove. Working odd jobs during the summer months, I was able to add to my wardrobe. I’m sure it’s the same way now, but we went from fad to fad. Some lasted a little longer than others. One of the fads in the ninth grade for the boys in the “in crowd” was to wear nylon jackets like James Dean, with the collars turned up. I wore a white one. I had all of the girls put their lip prints on it in red lipstick. I was standing next to my mom when she was putting it in the washer, and she nearly knocked me over with her comment. She said; “just don’t come home with lipstick on your shorts”. I couldn’t believe my saint of a mother actually said that.

I wasn’t old enough to drive yet, so it was cool to be buddies with an older guy that had a car. I was lucky, some of my buddies had older brothers with cars, so I was able to move around in coolness. Coolness is important if you wanna stay among the inner circles of society. Don’t wanna be showin’ up on a Schwinn. That ain’t gonna work.


It’s a rare occurrence when something happens in one place, during a certain time span, and nowhere else. But I have never spoken to anyone that ever saw a “slam book”. Allow me to explain. When I was in the ninth grade, these spiral bound notebooks started showing up with slam book written on the cover. When you opened them about every third or fourth page had a person’s name at the top of the page. These books were passed around and you wrote anonymous comments about that person listed on the page. Your name only appeared in one of these books if you were popular. It was a big deal if your name was in one of these books. This could have been the beginning of Facebook way back in 1955. I’m proud to report that my name was in several of them, and no negative comments. If you ever saw anything like this, let me know.


The kids I grew up with, myself included, loved to hang out after dark. In Oklahoma when you turned 14 years old, you could get a drivers license for a motor scooter or motorbike five horsepower or less. Put those two things together and you have a recipe for trouble. One of my buddies named Ronnie had some very trusting parents. Let me just say right here, trusting a 14 year old boy is not smart. So, there was a small mom and pop grocery store in the neighborhood where Ronnies parents bought beer and cigarettes. They gave Ronnie a note to hand to the owner of the store and they sent Ronnie out for beer and cigarettes. The store owner complied. I’m not making this up, it really happened. How long do you think it took for us to work that system and get beer and cigarettes for our little gang. Not long. I had a Cushman motor scooter with a small trunk just big enough for a six pack. When you pull up at a girls house on your scooter with beer and cigarettes, you’re the big dog. Fortunately, Ronnies parents found out before anything bad happened, and our jig was up. Fun while it lasted.

Ronnie was a great kid, we had a lot of fun. Unfortunately, he was killed in Viet Nam shortly after we graduated from high school.

Had another friend named Don that had a small Harley Davidson 160cc motorcycle. We used to cruise around the streets at night. Don and I came up with this scheme. I told my parents I was spending the night with Don, he told his parents he was spending the night with me. We stayed out all night without sleeping, went to our respective homes the next morning. Got away with it several times. We didn’t ride our bikes we walked. Hung out at all night restaurants and service stations. Have no idea why, it was just a big adventure. We never got in any trouble, we just wanted to hang out all night unsupervised.


We had a local roller rink that was owned operated by one of my neighbors from my original neighborhood. His name was Frank. Average size guy with a beer belly and a great sense of humor. We were there at least one night of the weekend, most of the time Friday and Saturday night. I loved roller skating and became a pretty darn good skater. My favorite style was dance skating with my favorite girl partner who happened to be the girl I was neighbors with from the age of four years old. We never dated but remained dear friends for years. She was one of the nicest people in my life. I hope life treated you well Jeannie K.

Next article will be the high school years. Wild times a Webster High, and a major transition in my lifestyle. Until then, God Bless you all.



MARCH 13, 2023



As I was preparing my thoughts for this article, I realized how other people can change the trajectory of your life and you don’t even realize it’s happening. Before I get into the details of this, you have to realize I came out of the womb with the desire to make stuff, fix stuff, and figure out how things work. My late wife once asked me, how do you know how to fix something you really don’t know much about? I jokingly told her that mechanical things talk to me. In fact, they do. If I stop and think about the object that isn’t working, quite often I can imagine how it works, and why it isn’t working. I’m not sure if that makes sense.

So, a new family moved into our neighborhood, Tom was my age and a likable kid. I liked his family as well. His father was a bit younger than my father, and very smart about mechanical things. He was a WWll veteran and had a strong military attitude. So, it was fun to hang out at Tom’s house and see the projects his dad was involved in. By the way, Tom was the kid I used to hang out in the tree with and shoot everything that moved with our BB guns.

I’m not really sure how it happens, but some kid in the neighborhood does something and then everyone has to do it. One of the most popular with boys in those days was coaster carts or “soap boxes”. We just happened to have a great hill to coast down. Everyone was building really crude wooden carts with ropes tied to the front axles to steer them with. Tom and I started building one in this garage, then his dad stepped in. He started getting out all of this power tools and you would not believe what we ended up with. Bear with me and I will try to describe it.

The base was probably a 2×10 about 5′ long. He built a back rest over the rear wheels. He built a wooden box like a model T hood on the front with the remnants of the 2×10 for the front and rear of the box. He put a round wooden pole through the box and mounted an actual automobile steering wheel on it. He the wrapped sash rope around the pole, routed it through a pully on each side to steer the front wheels. Nobody in the entire neighborhood had anything that could hold a candle to it. We were the official Kings of the Hill.

If that didn’t make Tom’s dad cool enough, He had a high-performance Hudson automobile. So, Tom’s dad had us making model airplanes, and we joined a local model airplane club, and his dad took us to the meetings in his Hudson. I was transfixed by that car. One night we were returning home, there was a long straight road ahead of us, and Tom’s dad opened it up. I watched the speedometer climb to 110 mph. I must have thought about that experience for about a couple of years. Think about the atmosphere during this event. Nighttime, the only light in the car was from the instrument panel and watching the needle on the speedometer just keep climbing all the way to the top. It was pure magic.

The time I spent hanging out with Tom, just sort of launched me into the next phase of my life of building and creating things. One of the next big phases was probably the most dangerous. I’m really amazed that someone wasn’t seriously injured or killed. We started making real honest to goodness sling shots. Just like the one David used to slay Goliath. Imagine one of those in the hands of a ten- or twelve-year-old with absolutely no experience whatsoever. I mean, where do you go to take sling shot lessons? I’m not kidding you, when the stones came out of these things, they sang like a bullet ricocheting off a rock. Most of the time we had no idea where the rock even went. Luckily that didn’t end with a fatality.

We were building model aircraft with small gas engines that ran on some kind of fuel, it wasn’t really gas, otherwise we would have blown up our homes. Then a company came out with a miniature solid fuel rocket engine. We were on that immediately. We put them on model cars, as well as aircraft. I built a large wingspan free flight aircraft with a rocket engine, and it was amazing. It was a large aircraft, so it was rather slow. Being a pint-sized mad scientist, I built a smaller aircraft with shorter wings like a fighter jet. It almost killed my neighbor. I ignited the rocket engine and released the plane. It immediately nosedived into the ground. When it did, the rocket engine came loose and shot through the air like a bullet, just missing the neighbor woman two doors down as she was walking out of her house. Luckily for me, she didn’t even know how close she came to being on the ten-o-clock news.

Now you have read three installments of my young life and I’m still not up to twelve years old yet. So, my adventures in this exciting new world of mine just keep coming. I’m also starting to notice girls more and more. So somewhere around twelve years old, these pesky creatures start finding their way into my life. More on this in later articles.

It’s been fun to recall this stuff, that I don’t think about much. But I thought I should write about this being that my 82nd birthday is coming up next month. So far, my brain hasn’t reached its expiration date, so I should probably share this before it’s lost forever. It’s so frustrating, to think about something that happened when you were a kid and you wanna talk about it with your siblings, and then you realize they are all gone. You’re the last one standing. But life is good. Live it at full throttle. It’s what you’re supposed to do. God Bless all of you.



FEBRUARY 26, 2023



I received a very good response from readers on my last blog, revisiting my childhood experiences in Tulsa in the 1940’s. So, I decided to expound on that, for two reasons. Number one, folks liked it, and I like it when I get positive response from my efforts. Number two, the world is so damn depressing, I’m tired of writing about it. I’m sure I will resume my bitching and complaining soon, but for now, I just wanna do “feel good” stuff.

By the way, my mother hated the term “okie”. She was born and raised in Oklahoma and damn proud of it. She and my father struggled through the depression and the dust storms of the thirties. The term “okies” was given to the migrants that left the south central states during those horrible years, headed to California. The Californians weren’t happy about all of the new arrivals and gave them that derogatory moniker. So, the people in the south central area fired back at California, and gave the derogatory nickname, of “prune pickers”.

Later, the south-central folks carried a little further, saying California was like granola. Take away the fruits and the nuts, and what you have left is “flakes”. If you’re a Californian, don’t be getting all mad at me for writing this, I moved to Southern Cal when I was 23, and lived there for the next thirty years. I loved California in the sixties through the eighties, then it got way too weird for me.

So, in 1949, I-40 took out the home I was born in, and grew up in. I was eight years old, and really upset I was going to have to leave my house and move to another home. My dad and mom built that house from the ground up. Every nail in it was driven by my father, while my mother worked alongside of him doing whatever a tiny 4′-10 woman could do. In reality she was a tough little gal, never heard her whine once. Her favorite saying was “can’t never did anything”. She lived by that; no task was too big for her. By the way, she didn’t allow any whining either.

Our new home was about 3-4 miles north. After we lived there for a couple of months or so, I was pining away for old home, had so many good memories there. So, one day without telling anyone, I got on my bike and rode back to the old home. It was early summer. In Oklahoma during that time of the year, vegetation grows like crazy. So, when I rode up to the house, all of the weeds were growing up around it, the grass was very tall, and those big scary garden spiders were hanging around everywhere. I walked around the house, and through the back yard where we had so many good times as a family, but it looked sad and abandoned. The spirit of the family home was gone. At that moment, the sadness and homesickness left me, and it was gone forever. As a nine-year-old, I knew it was time to move on with my life.

The old neighborhood was small, not many kids to hang with. Our new neighborhood was a housing tract filled with young parents with lots of kids. New adventures with new friends, and that was exciting. Now we had a really big, wooded area to explore, and we didn’t waste any time getting to know our way around.

On the south side of our new home was a huge pasture with a few head of cattle. The south property line of the pasture was the Frisco Railroad. Beyond that another 100 feet or so was the old Route 66. North of our new home was a large hill named “Lookout Mountain”, that ran for several miles, probably about 200 feet high. Heavily wooded, for great adventures. At the highest point was the local TV station. More on that in a later article.

Being ten years old, and much more mature, when we went on our adventures, we were armed with Daisy BB guns and real honest to goodness hunting knives we wore on our belts like Davy Crockett. There was quite a large tree in the pasture close to the railroad. My neighbor buddy and I used to climb the tree with our knives and BB guns and terrorize small animals and birds. There was a large Herford bull in the pasture with the cows. He had quite a large pair of testicles. We tried to hit them with our BB guns numerous times, but he never showed any response. I can only assume we missed. Needless to say, we were shooting while sitting in the tree, we were young but not stupid.


The neighborhood to the north of us one block was much older, with large mature trees. There was a vacant lot on the corner, very overgrown, where we played. Someone came up with the idea we should build a cave. How do you “build” a cave? Well, you arm about four or five 10-year-olds with their family garden tools and start digging a really big hole about two or three feet deep, about five foot long. Then you go around to everyone’s home and find as much lumber as possible, and cover the hole, then cover the wood with dirt and weeds, leaving one end open for access. You lay cardboard on the floor, dig out little holes in the walls for candles. We created a very cool hideout.

When the novelty wore off of the cave, we built a tree house in Bubba’s tree. It was pretty awesome. Looking back on it, it’s hard to believe a bunch of ten-year-olds built it. It was about 15 feet above the ground. Bubba came up with the idea of spending the night in it. My mom said no. They took kerosene lanterns up in the treehouse and let them burn all night, and nearly asphyxiated themselves. At about 4:00 am they were all hanging out sick and throwing up. My mom was probably the smartest mom ever. She had a sixth sense for stuff like this.


Summer nights are awesome in Tulsa, we loved to play “kick the can” at night. One night we all met a Bubba’s house, and the can was located in his front yard. The game started and lasted for maybe two hours. We always made sure everyone was accounted for when the game was over. Gene never showed up. We all fanned out an looked for him for probably an hour or so. No Gene. We were terrified that something bad had happened. So, we all went down the street to Gene’s house and told his parents we had lost him. Gene’s mom informed us that Gene had came home and went to bed probably an hour and a half ago. Every neighborhood has one kid that is just a little different, that was Gene. I re-connected with Gene some 55 years later at our High School reunion. Much to my surprise, he was quite normal. Bubba was a little strange though.


Having grown up around farms and animals, I was very used to seeing the internal organs of butchered animals. So, I wasn’t fazed by blood and guts. One day while my friends and I were running around playing, we heard sirens and saw a lot of activity on the railroad tracks. So, naturally we had to go see what it was all about. Seems some guy was hit by a train and his body was virtually ripped apart. By the time we got there they had already pick up the large parts of his body, but his internal organs were still scattered about on the tracks. As I looked at the guy’s insides laying on the ground, I remember thinking they looked just like any other animal. We all went back home, and nobody ever mentioned it again. It always made the think that kids probably aren’t as affected by stuff like that as adults think they are.

I am forever grateful for being able to be a kid, without being burdened with a bunch of adult nonsense. TV was totally sanitary, as were the movies, except for a lot of folks getting killed in cowboy and gangster movies. Anyway, it was OK, the bad guys were getting killed. Besides, we knew it was make-believe. Our parents aided and abetted our childhood adventures. God Bless their souls.



FEBRUARY 22, 2023



Saturday morning, early summer, west Tulsa, 1947. I was a six-year-old boy with more curiosity than five kids my age. I woke up excited about life every single day. Still do actually. My mission in life was to explore and have fun, rainy days were horrible when I had to stay inside. In the mornings while I was getting dressed and ready for my next big adventure, The smells of my mom cooking breakfast filled our house. Breakfast was a big deal. Bacon, eggs, toast and coffee being prepared has a wonderful aroma. But on Saturday’s I chose to have something different, a dish of “stir around”. I’m not sure who named it that, it’s what we called it. Stir around is a made by putting a big chunk of peanut butter on a plate and pouring on a generous amount of maple syrup. Stir it around until it makes a gooey mess, then spread it on toast. Yumm!! Still have it once in a while.

With breakfast behind me it was time to go out and have a look around. You never know what you may find in a huge yard like mine. My mom liked flowers and stuff, so on the corner of our lot, she planted a “honeysuckle” bush. I always like to walk out there and smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Every now and then I would pull off one of the flowers and suck the nectar out of it. I think I saw someone else do it first. Then take a walk out in the back yard and see what was going on there.

As I walked along the side of the house, I saw a shiny black wasp walking along the foundation and flipping his wings as he walked. I was an experienced nature observer by six years old, so I knew what the wasp was doing. He was hunting “wolf spiders”. So, I followed him along until he spotted one, and then I watched the ensuing battle. The spider always put up a ferocious fight but always lost. Then the wasp would drag him off to his nest, somewhere. Never did see where he went.

Quite often in my back yard adventures I would come across a terrapin. Of course, little boys always have to pick them up and carry them around for some reason. You always had to be careful and not let them pee on you and give you warts. (All of the kids said so) So, nothing else happening around the back yard so I went across the street to see my little buddy, Jimmy Presley. Jimmy and I decided to walk down to the creek with a couple of fruit jars and catch tadpoles. After a successful tadpole gathering trip, it was time for lunch.

Lunch kinda makes you lazy, so another one of my favorite things was to lay in the cool grass by the honeysuckle bush and take a little nap in the warm sun. Sometimes just watch the clouds float by and see if you can spot any interesting formations. By six years old I could already identify all of the major aircraft by their sound, both commercial and military. Being under the flight path for Tinker Air Force base in western Oklahoma, I saw a lot of B29’s, and B36’s fly over. Loved the sound of those engines.

I’m not sure if I was an unusual kid, but I was extremely aware of sights, sounds, and smells. Later in the evening after dinner, (or supper as it was called in Oklahoma) we would often sit on our large screened front porch and enjoy the summer breeze and have a glass of iced tea. Due west of our house was a small black community, with a Baptist church. On Saturday nights we could hear the congregation singing gospel hymns, it was a sweet sound. In the distance you could also hear the faint sound of “pump jack” engines in the oil fields. Mix all of that with the sounds of a steam train blowing it’s whistle, overlaying the sounds of crickets, frogs, and whippoorwills, and you have a southern, summer evening symphony. How sweet it was.

Sunday mornings were always special. Not much happened on Sundays in those days. None of the stores were open, it was the universal day of rest. So, if you were outside on Sunday morning, which I was most of the time, the larger churches had bell towers, and the sound of church bells on Sunday morning was indeed a sweet sound. My mother made sure I made it to Sunday school. God bless her for giving me that knowledge of God and Jesus Christ. Those Sunday school lessons stayed with me throughout my life. They taught me how to interact with other human beings, and how to respect the value of life.

I loved Sundays, my mom always cooked a special dinner which we enjoyed in the early afternoon. My mom was a southern lady and cooked like one. To this day, my preference is southern style food. Probably why I had bypass surgery at 78 years old. Sunday afternoon softball game in the park were common, and really fun. But later in the day was the special time. We would pile in the family sedan and head down to the watermelon stand. Oklahoma watermelons are huge, and super tasty. Back in the day the watermelon stands would fill big tanks with ice water and the melons would float in the ice water. My dad was the expert on picking the melons. They went through a ritual. My dad would look over the melons in the tank and using his special talents would pick one. However, there was one more step. He would have the owner cut a “plug’ so my dad could taste it. Then dad would always say he was OK with his choice, and we would head home for the Sunday evening watermelon feast.

My moms sister lived in the house behind ours, she was a widow with three children. My mom and dad would invite her and my cousins over to enjoy the watermelons. After the gorging ourselves on watermelon, we ran around our yard chasing and catching lightning bugs or firefly’s as city folk called them. Of course, playing outside in the summer grass at night would result in several applications of Calamine lotion for the chigger bites. That spelled the end of another great weekend.

Summers were magical times. I can remember going to visit my aunt and uncle who lived on a farm not far away from our home. Driving past the alfalfa fields in the evenings after they had been freshly harvested is one of the sweetest smells in the world. Of course, cars didn’t have air conditioning in those days, so all four windows were down. You didn’t miss anything. During hay baling time my dad would always help my uncle. When I was eight years old, I was driving the flatbed truck while the men threw the bales onto it. I felt like a big shot.

I was the baby of the family until 1948. Before my brother was born, my mom would often go shopping downtown Tulsa and take me along. We only had one car, so we rode the bus to and from. Not one of my favorite memories. But when we were downtown it was awesome. My favorite store was Kress’s. When you walked in your olfactory nerves were attacked by all of the wonderful aromas of that store. The floors were oiled hardwood and had a sweet smell from that red colored sweeping compound they used. Then you were hit by the smell of the roasted nuts, and the fresh popcorn. The ceilings were stamped metal tiles with beautiful designs and the big brown ceiling fans spun slowly, distributing all of those wonderful aromas to every corner of the store. What an experience that was. To make it even better, I usually came home with a new cap pistol with the white steer head handles, and several boxes of caps. I wore those things out pretty fast as I remember. That was before I graduated to a Red Rider BB gun.

Life just made a lot more sense in those days. We never locked the doors on our home. As little kids, we would go on daytime adventures, sometimes as far away as three to four miles, walking, or riding our bicycles. Hike through the woods, play along the creeks and ponds. We were perfectly safe. Kidnappings and molestations were very rare in those days.

Schools and schoolteachers were 100% business. They were there to teach you the basic skills in life. There was no monkey business, no politics, no nonsense. They didn’t tolerate bad behavior, period. Bad behavior was dealt with in a forceful but civilized manner. Parents were involved in the discipline as well. Did bullying exist, of course, but to a much lesser degree.

It was a kinder, gentler world where kids were allowed to be kids. Kids don’t need the heavy burdens of adulthood put on them prematurely. They need to enjoy being children and doing childlike things. They need to play and be free of the mental burdens of adult life.

I feel extremely blessed I got to grow up in a simpler world with nicer people. I’m glad we didn’t have a TV until I was ten years old. I’m glad I wasn’t allowed to use the phone unless I had permission. I was extremely blessed to have parents who understood how to raise kids, and what was important and what wasn’t. I’m really glad my dad was a watermelon expert, and my mom knew how to cook hushpuppies and catfish.

God bless all of you. Try to give your young folks a little taste of the old days if you can. They will love you for it.