Animal Stories Archive

My Dog Is a Socialist On Food Stamps

Posted December 1, 2015 By Gospel

bulldog wearing eyeglasses sleeping over a good novel

My dog sleeps about 20 hours a day.
He has his food prepared for him. He can eat whenever he wants.
His meals are provided at no cost to him.
He visits the Dr. once a year for his checkup, and again during the year if any medical needs arise.
For this he pays nothing, and nothing is required of him.
He lives in a nice neighborhood in a house that is much larger than he needs, but he is not required to do any upkeep.

ZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZZ!


If he makes a mess, someone else cleans it up.
He has his choice of luxurious places to sleep.
He receives these accommodations absolutely free.
He is living like a King, and has absolutely no expenses whatsoever.
All of his costs are picked up by others who go out and earn a living every day.
I was just thinking about all this, and suddenly it hit me like a brick …….

 

I think my dog is a member of the Democrat Party!

 

Please, turn the Light out!

Please, turn the Light out!

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The PC Police and the Common Folks

Posted March 16, 2015 By Gospel

Oops! I have paper waste What do I do now?

I wanted to get down on paper, in story form, some of the hypocrisies associated with some of our most intelligent, highly educated and what we would call the elite members of our society who do not normally mingle with the common staff at work who are in administrative positions like those in the human resources departments who the elitists feel have a rudimentary education. A vast majority of these elite members of society are immensely focused on issues such as global warming, the plight of polar bears with the melting of ice caps, the rising oceans, the draughts and why normal human beings don’t have the good sense to recycle their trash so we can save our planet. They are totally disgusted with how wasteful the majority of normal human beings are as they go about trying to keep themselves and their families alive on our planet. There are billions of folks in extremely rural areas of the world who do not know where their next meal is coming from yet we have very well educated, so called highly advanced do-gooders who want to completely change how those billions go about just trying to survive.

So! What people do in a lunch room and what sometimes happens there, can be interesting, fun, humorous or even challenging.  Friends gather from their intensely hectic mornings at work to relax and share recent experiences in their lives. It’s how they recharge their batteries so they can finish out the rest of their trying day. While eating lunch one day in the lunch room, a lady named Laura sat down with a few of her fellow workers. She was telling the others around the table about what her daughter, Natalie, shared with her the evening before, over the phone. It was a mother and daughter sharing some quality time with each other because they lived so far apart. Getting together physically is impossible since there are 1000s of miles of ocean and half the United States between them.

Natalie is married and lives in Hawaii with her husband Marcus in a home they recently bought. When they bought the home, they also bought a form of insurance that lasts a year to protect them from losses that might occur with the appliances that came with the home. A few months after moving in they noticed that just about everything in the upright freezer was partially thawed out. The insurance company sent out someone to check it and it was determined that it needed to be replaced. The insurance covered that and they received a new freezer a few days later. Marcus is sort of an outdoorsy type and works near the docks in Pearl Harbor. He sometimes brings things home that you might expect from someone living or working near the ocean in Hawaii, which is everyone. Natalie and Marcus work different shifts so they are often coming home at different times.  Marcus worked the night shift the night before and had just began his turn for getting some sleep. He had just dozed off when he was awoken by a scream coming from the kitchen.

Natalie had gotten up, prepared herself for work, and went into the kitchen to start her day with some breakfast. A bolt of fear struck her body and she jumped back when she opened the door to the freezer. She saw a huge set of widely based claws sticking out from the bottom shelf of the freezer. Her entire body went cold with fear as she let out a scream and slammed the freezer door shut. Out of blind fear she could swear she saw the claws moving and they were coming after her. Marcus came running into the kitchen to see what had happened. What she saw was the biggest king crab most people had ever seen in their entire life.  The moment Marcus saw what had happened, is the moment he began laughing uncontrollably almost falling to the floor. But that was just a fraction of a second before he took an intense blow from Natalie to the left arm just above the humorous bone. Isn’t it ironically funny how that happens? Emotions filled her body with the natural human response of flight followed by a fight where Marcus took a stern hit.

The punch to the left arm triggered more laughter from Marcus. Then he took a second hit in the same spot for laughing at what Natalie did not think was funny at all. It was just a few moments later when out of the joy of feeling that nothing serious was going to happen, Natalie joined in with the laughter as her body began to calm its nerves. As the laughter subsided minutes later, they both began hearing scratching. It was coming from what sounded like the bottom of the freezer. They opened the door. The crab was still alive and was going through its own flight response trying to helplessly crawl out of a freezer whose door had just slammed shut. Natalie sent a picture by smart phone to her mother to show her how huge that crab was. When Laura shared the picture and the story with her husband, his response was, “That crab is so huge, I am surprised it didn’t throw Marcus into the freezer.” A ton of laugher began again; and again between Marcus and Natalie when Laura shared that response with them.

And now back to the lunch room. The nature of the business this lunch crowd supports requires the hiring of several very highly qualified research consultants with extensive educations such as masters, PHDs and those at a level where they earned the right to be called Engineers. These folks consider themselves part of the elite set. They find it difficult to socialize with those members of the support staff with the very basics of an education. And that’s OK. The nature of any discussion needs to fit the social status of the group.

The common support staff can’t relate to someone whose professional life is immersed in having gained a Doctor of Philosophy degree in, say, social engineering. The elite person thinks that since they are philosophers in their field of expertise, it makes them qualified to play judge over those who are experts at somehow finding a way to get buy on a bare minimum of income. The elites think in economic terms of purchases and expenses in the “thousands of dollars” while the poor think in terms of hundreds, twenties and dollars; even pennies sometimes. And they always remain laser focused on where the next dollar might be coming from so they can support a family. How does a woman relate to a woman who bought their jacket from Neiman Marcus before they put it on sale for a few thousand dollars less when she is extremely happy she purchased her jacket on sale at TJ Max for 24 dollars but wonders whether she will ever be able to afford another or a pair of matching shoes.

While the story was being told at the table of the commoners, another one of the employees of the company who is of the elite ilk, was at the counter preparing her lunch for the microwave. But when she overheard that the crab had been placed in the freezer alive, she turned with a grimace on her face and in a condescending way, stated. “Oh, that is so cruel.” She is one who feels we should not eat shrimp because they are part of nature and should be left alone. The members at the table facing away from the woman placed their index fingers over their lips as to signal they should be quiet. The power of PC had raised its ugly head and those at the table were forced to stifle their speech. In essence, they were being denied to speak about such things, they were being told they were cruel, and they were being told that their speech needed to be denied since they were not qualified to know what is best for them.

Meanwhile, at that very moment while the speech at a table of generally happy people just getting along with their lives was abruptly curtailed; in a barrio somewhere in another part of the world, a family is overjoyed that they will be able to share a few pieces of chopped up shrimp, in what they normally experienced was only a small bowl of rice and vegetables, between a father and mother and their ten young children, following a short prayer of thankfulness. A month earlier, as sheer luck would have it, they were able to chop up the thigh of a chicken they received as a gift from one of their neighbors who cared more about their health than what stories they might be telling around the mat on the floor taking the place of a table they could only dream of having.

It is ironic that a majority of these elite members of our society go to 5 star restaurants where live crabs are served by throwing them into boiling water and slicing them down the middle before placing them on a plate next to a steak that originated from the slaughter of a calf whose meat is considered to be the most tender of all. The vegetables, a main staple of the poor, is just thrown to the side more as for image than for their nutritional value. The cost of that one meal for two is much more than what that poor family in a barrio might be able to pull together in a year or even a lifetime. And the elitist wants to teach them how to recycle their trash, stop cooking on open flames of burning wood spewing tons of CO2 into our precious atmosphere at a rate not seen for the past 200 years. They also do not want them to harm the poor creatures that deserve to be left alone; especially the hundreds of thousands of animals, birds, frogs and bugs from around the world who elitists have placed on the endangered species list. Just about the only creatures not on the list are humans, unicorns and dodo birds.

If one had the guts to say something, they might ask if the elitist in their presence knew that a study had been done showing that vegetables experience pain when they are plucked from the ground or a tree and then chopped up for their salad (I was just kidding about that study but the elitist would believe any study real or imaginary). I am, however, dead serious in asking whether they know that the marijuana they champion as needing to be legalized for human use, according to thousands of government studies paid for by the taxpayer, actually needs around 1200 to 1500 parts per million of CO2 to permit the best quality atmosphere for their growth. In fact all plants do best when the CO2 level reaches around 1200 parts per million.

Most elitists do not know that there are only 400 parts per million of CO2 currently in our atmosphere and they want to drastically reduce that number by taking billions of dollars from the tax dollars of most Americans who do not give a damn about CO2. They do not know that when the CO2 level gets at or below 180 parts per million, plants can no longer survive.  They do not know that approximately 23 million years ago, Antarctica was covered with fern and had no ice caps at all. The vegetarians are mostly those who believe in global warming and the need to reduce CO2 but don’t realize how many more vegetables would be available for their consumption if they would permit the CO2 level to drastically increase.

The most ironic thing is that most of the elitists in this country do not know what part of that 400 PPM is actually man-caused CO2. The 97% of the scientists they claim consider the issue settled science, are really only convinced that CO2 has the capability of retaining heat in our atmosphere. They say that because all compounds have that feature to varying degrees. The question is to what degree. But more importantly, that degree is insignificant since only 3% of that 400 PPM is man-made. Would these elitists know that CO2 makes up only .0004% of our atmosphere of which only 3% of .0004% is man-made? Do they know that the oceans cover 70% of the planet and soak up 40% of that human made CO2? Or do they realize that the USA only takes up 3% of the entire landmass of the globe? Just how much CO2 do we have control of? The fraction is just way to minescule to even imagine. And the elite want us all to spend billions of dollars cutting our emissions of CO2 when we have o control over the rest of the globe. Maybe they should worry about human rights and animal rights and endangered species more! Oh, but they do! My bad!

That is why those commoners sitting around the table eating their lunch don’t believe the amount of CO2 in our atmosphere is a problem. That is why that poor family sitting around a mat eating rice and vegetables doesn’t worry about CO2 levels. They have more pressing things to worry about. If the elitists would just leave well enough alone, these poor people would have a much more vibrant source of vegetables making it easier for them to survive if the CO2 level would be closer to 1200 PPM than merely 400 PPM.

I was at a fast food cafeteria at the Botanical Gardens mingling with the elites who go there often and it only took me a moment to get what I wanted and sit down to eat. But when I got ready to leave I approached the area where one could dispose of one’s trash. When I got there I noticed there were 4 separate bins, 4 different colors, and each had a specific and distinct purpose for being there. There was one that said cans only, one that said bottles only, one that said organic only (whatever that means), and then the 4th bin said other waste. There was a large sign on the wall over each bin, in matching colors to their respective bin that explained what each bin was for and then there were several lines of instructions below that in small font explained in excruciating detail exactly how to separate your trash and what constituted that type of trash. I have to admit I did not have time to study what I could only describe was a 4 level college course requiring me to cram the rest of the afternoon learning how to separate my trash to insure I could pass the final exam. I just hope the instructor is grading on a curve. But, like many college students, it didn’t take me long to figure out a shortcut using my highly advanced commonsensical ability to solve major problems quickly. I could just dump it all in the bin that said “Other Waste” and go about my day. So I slyly peered around to make sure the PC police were not watching me and in it all went.

Isn’t it interesting that while all those elitists are driving to work, they pass probably 30 or 40 black 50 gallon plastic bags full of all sorts of trash, undivided by category, laying by the side of the road where the common folks dumped them while in a hurry to get to where they are going so they could earn a few bucks to feed their families and pay the rent. The PC crowd driving by those bags must be going nuts.

But now, while writing this, I remembered I needed to go take my trash out quickly since the trash truck was due any minute. Of course, I only had one bin so I was able to accomplish that task in a timely manner. That reminds me of the phrase, “Haste makes waste.” I would add, “Disposal more efficient.” Oh, I was wondering, “Which bin do I sit on to deposit my fecal waste?”

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Poems From the Gospel of JJ

Posted September 18, 2014 By Gospel

 Bon Bon

   My Bon Bon

I have a little bonbon

I keep it in-a box

With several thousand latches

And thirty-seven locks.

My bonbon is so yellow

With little streaks of green

I’d eat it up just like that

But that would be to mean.

I love my little bonbon

It’s all I have in life

If someone were to take it

I’d stab ’em with a knife.

So I’ll just keep it hidden

For no one ‘er to see

We’ll live as one forever

Just my bon bon …….and me.

.

.

Cute+Ducklings+Funny+Pic

       MY LITTLE DUCKLING

 

   I had a little duckling,

I called him Socrates,

He was so very naughty

And very hard to please.

He’d wake me in the morning

With little peeps of rhyme,

I’d tell him to be quite

And give me peace of mind.

When he was unhappy,

I’d take him to the sea

To play upon the wet warm sand

And perch upon my knee.

He loved no more than bathing

In mothers coffee cup,

I’d fill it to the brim

With sparkling seven up.

He loved the little bubbles

To run along his sides,

It made him feel so happy

And then he’d run and hide.

But I knew where to find him

Wherever he may go,

He’d leave his tracks all over

Like footprints in the snow.

But time has passed on by now,

He grew too old, you see,

I no longer have my duckling,

I had him with my tea.

.

.

doe-and-fawn

In a Meadow

(Ode to the Hunter)

In a midsummer meadow

Near a blue calmly stream

There’s a doe and her fawn

Taking peacefully the green.

The wee fawn asks of mother

In a questioning sad way

Where has daddy gone

I’ve not seen him today?

But mother in answer

Soft tears in her eyes

Wants not to bring harm

Wants not to tell lies.

Your father’s away, my son

Venturing through time,

Where life is a happy one

 And bells are sweet rhyme.

 So we must be brave, son

And be good our lives through

For the time will come, son

When we must leave too.

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Sage and Montana

Posted September 12, 2014 By Gospel

Mother Nature stepped in last evening to let us know fall is underway. We woke up to 30 degree weather this morning with a light snow near the middle of September. My wife and I had two furry guests; Australian Shepherds named Sage and Montana. They were spending a couple of nights with us while their owners drove another furry friend, an English Bull Dog named Andy, across country to Washington, DC, to reunite her with her parents, my son and his wonderful wife. We put our dark jackets on over warm clothing to take our two guests out for their morning constitutional. It was not long before we were able to come back in. But not before all four of us had our dark coats bespeckled with a dose of Mother Nature’s white frozen flakes.

Our son and his wife, married for two years now, were doing very well in Portland, OR. He had just graduated from the University of Portland with a Political Science Degree and she had a well-established position with a great company. But then our son was accepted to attend the American University Law School, in Washington, DC. They both agreed they would make the move and fortunately, her talents made her extremely valuable to several companies and three attempted to make her offers that were quite good. She settled on a position located near Washington, DC.  The offers included an agreement to fund her move to include household goods, two cars and all transportation. It must be nice to be so much in demand during our current economic times where many people found it difficult to find work. But she really is very talented at what she does.

Because of Andy’s flying restrictions, her parents volunteered to drive their daughter’s car across country to give Andy first class accommodations with her own personal entourage caring for her every need. The airlines do not permit English Bull Dogs aboard their planes because of the potential for breathing issues associated with her breed. Our daughter-in-law flew in from DC, to meet Andy along the way to help with the drive eastward. Yes, Andy is their first baby raised from a pup, and she is very special to us all. She is my grand-puppy. And she can call me her Grand-doggy, too, anytime she wishes.

And now back to our doggy sitting adventures. Montana and Sage live out on a ranch near us and after two days, we took them back to their home so they could get back to running the property in hot pursuit of any critter crazy enough to cut across the property. On our way, we reached a point in the road where a sign appeared. “Dear Crossing.” And sure enough, here they come. A Doe and her Fawn followed by the Buck in the family began crossing the road. We pulled to a stop as they slowly made their way across. But I think they were moving too slow to satisfy Montana in the backseat because he began barking instructions telling them to get moving. But that didn’t cause them to move any faster. After all, they did have the right-a-way; the sign said so. It’s not Montana’s fault, he can’t read signs.

When we reached their home, the leashes were detached the moment I opened the rear door and they hit the property on a dead run, barking, immediately going on 4 foot patrol searching every inch of land surrounding their home. They also managed to catch up on another constitutional break during their casing of the land on which they considered themselves to be the primary protectors. It was still in the low 30s so it was a little on the cool side. My wife and I were due another  visit later on in the day so we stayed a while letting them in and out so they could keep up on their security duties but not get too cold in the process. I brought a book to read and got in a few chapters. By noon, and according the weather reports, the temperature was still in the low 30s. So it was time for us to go take care of some errands. I called Montana and Sage into the garage where they had warm accommodations and a good supply of water. Montana was not too cool to that idea so I had to use my “I’m real tough” commands to get him to sit next to Sage and wait for me to close the garage door; showing a stern palm that stayed in plain view until the door got within 6 inches of the ground which meant I was serious about those sitting instructions. That was a pretty difficult task trying to get them to stay put.

My wife and I came out again in the evening to give them their evening meal, a few more minutes of security duty and; it is off to bed they go. They can’t be out at night because that’s when the not so friendly foxes, skunks, porcupines and raccoon begin their nocturnal rampaging. Those guys are another story when it comes to security. It is best to let those guy do their thing during the night without interruption. Montana and Sage could really get themselves into a serious mauling, or if they happen onto somebody who can put up a serious stink, they may be looking at a prolonged scrubbing in a location far from the house out of nose shot. They could also find themselves coming home yelping with pain looking like industrial pin cushions. That would get them front row seats to a dreadful special event; a trip to the vet and his tweezers where they get called up on stage, the operating table, to become the stars. Ouch.

Why go through all the trouble of trying to keep them in the garage when a neat trick would do the trick. All I had to do is get one of their treats; a peanut butter tasting biscuit in the shape of a flat bone, break it in two and have them sit and then lay down. Then I would simply hand each a half and they would ignore everything going on around them while I pushed the button on the control. They looked at me, still in the lay down position, and the door going down, but they couldn’t concentrate on that; that half of a cookie tasted better than a trip to the Outback Restaurant for a steak dinner. Well, they don’t know about that since they have never been there; but I have. That steak and baked potato tastes better than a dog biscuit. At least I bet it does.

The next morning was interesting. As I pulled up to the garage door to let Sage and Montana out, I got out of the car and delayed as long as I could in eager anticipation to see what was about to happen. They knew I was their but didn’t make a peep. The door only got up about 8 or 9 inches before Sage and Montana crawled out screaming with joy to see me, made a few spins and prances in circles before constitutionals and security duty called. Like darts they were out on patrol making a counter clockwise trip around the house. That took several minutes which gave me time to prepare their breakfast. I stayed awhile so the garage door ordeal would not come to quickly. I fixed their bowls with the meals they liked best and changed the old water to being fresh again just inside the garage door to the house, in the mud room. I called them. One after the other ran into the room, and I closed the door behind them. Sage, given the chance, would eat both bowls, so I had to watch her while Montana nibbled at his food as though he still had patrolling on his mind. He moved back and forth from bowl to door. I had to keep reminding him that he would have to eat before hitting counter-clock wise patrol again. I would let Sage out first since she was done eating and give Montana more time to finish eating. Then out he went on a dead run returning to where he and Sage left off.

Our visits would last about 6 days after which the owners would return home by air and we would pick them up. The routine became comfortable for my wife and I and and all indications were that Sage and Montana were happy seeing us each time. It even got a little mysterious for us when we walked out the door to the garage to notice that one of their two sleeping pads was missing. They are about 3-4 feet across and about 4 inches thick. We got ourselves into a mild panic wondering how could one of those pads come up missing. All kinds of ideas flashed through our minds as to how something light this could happen. We went outside looking for a missing pad. It is a three car garage with a large cement circular form driving way big enough to turn around it with a car. We walked out to the road entering the circular driveway to find the missing pad under a tree with a few puffs of cotton padding spread around a hole that seemed to be getting larger. We had notice initially that there was a small hole when the pad was in the garage. We knew at that moment, that either Sage or Montana had moved the pad out under a tree to probably have something soft to sit on in the shade or just have something to chew on in between jaunts around the house on patrol.

That pad problem would have again. But this time, two pads where missing. I looked out to where the pad was following the previous theft and it wasn’t there. Wow! One of these canine robbers was playing a mischievous trick on me. This time I had to go out to the road before I saw one of the pads. It was across the road laying in the field with large cotton balls surrounding it. But that was only one pad, when two were missing. I had to look farther. But then I saw it. It was laying under another tree around the side of the house blending in the landscape making it hard to see. I gathered them up and returned them to their proper place in the garage. It didn’t happen again in the six days. But I was ready for it should it again. I still don’t know which one, Sage or Montana, was playing this cat and pad game with me. My guess it was Montana. He gave me the impression that he would do something like this. Sage was older and little less spry so Montana gets the blame in my mind. He is the pesky one; the leader of the pack.

I would stay at the house for awhile to give them a chance to get in more doggy activities. On one trip to the house and after they had eaten and gone out for awhile, we went out to check on them. In a few minutes they returned. Sage was all wet like she had just taken a bath. We were curious as to how that happened and we began making the rounds around the house, too. But clockwise was our route. There were small bodies of water to our left as we downed the steps around to the back yard. And sure enough the evidence revealed itself. There was a small pond at the foot of the steps and a flat rock pathway passing it. A few steps further down was a hot tub with its cover on. We looked across the lawn to see tree large bowl like receptacles with water bubbling over. At first we thought maybe Sage has gotten into one of them for a quick dip in the cool water. But that was ruled out a short time later when we noticed the rock pathway had a streak of a wet water mark leading from the small pool and the grass. She had been in the pond at the foot of the steps. These two happy go lucky shepherds were probably frolicking around and Sage probably accidentally fell in. But it was time to go for us. But we waited a few minutes so Sage had a chance to dry off in the warm sun.   It was back to the garage where they eagerly following me convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt a half of a doggy biscuit was about to brighten their day. There was no room between me and these two beggars as they took a sitting position on their blanket next to the two pads. It reminded me of the old homeless guys sitting at an intersection holding a sign which said they would work for food. But in this case, the sign said “I will do tricks or follow any command you want, just give me a peanut butter flavored biscuit.

Finally, I gave the down command and they each did an instantaneous belly flop knowing for sure the long awaited time had come. I handed each their share and with garage door opener control in hand just walked out side and pushed the button. I watched as the door made its way down but they stayed in the prone position chomping away. They peered at me as I went out of sight but did not fail to keep chomping and check around them for any scrape that might have fallen. We had been told that getting them to stay in the garage was going to be extremely difficult but the treat trick was even better than stealing mattress pads. But before we resorted to this approach, we were told we could leave them out all day. We tried that but as we left heading for the remote controlled gate about 100 yards down the hill, they two made stealthy attempts to follow us. We would tell them to go home but they would just make larger loops making their way to the gate about the same time we got there. We opened the gate and drove through and the gate closes automatically. They just passed by the gate through a narrow path designed to permit people to walk past the gate. We drove up the road farther. And they continued to follow.  It was clear they were going to follow us regardless. We had another gate to get to which was about a quarter mile away opening to the road way. We just got through the first gate a up the road another hundred yards or so and turned around. We had to return to the doggy biscuit method of control in the garage. We would try that again.

When I was young I had a Australian Shepherd named Buttons. But she was little more passive than Sage and Montana, probably because we had a warmariner who made it his sole purpose in life to steal the show. Buttons would just sit and watch as Pete the Warmariner made prancing around in a perpetual frolic his primary form of enjoyment. He never learned to not do that around Sam the Terrible, a black cat we also had. Several times Pete would forget what happened before and pull his frolicking routine up next to Sam who would fire off with blinding speed several punches to both sides of Pete’s face, claws extended. The yelping in pain was part of his routine, too.  Buttons, I am sure, was just sitting watching Pete learn that history really does repeat itself, over and over again. But his memory seems to be lacking. Buttons was probably thinking, “gosh, how dumb can these Warmariners be?” My time spent with Sage and Montana was a lot of fun. It reminded me of the good old days when I grew up on a ranch with our dogs and Sam the Terrible in Southern California. Sage, Montana and I had a good time frolicking ourselves. Now back to life with humans. Oh how boring. I wonder if they might like peanut butter flavored biscuits?

I wrote another story about Sam the Terrible! (click here) and enjoy the fun I had with the furry friends I grew up with.

 

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The Dolphins are Dying! Why?

Posted December 9, 2013 By Gospel
The Are So Cute!

They Are So Cute!

I agree dolphins are really cute. But so are human babies when they’re allowed to be born. My mother and father spent several years in the military trying to make this country a better place to live. I spent 23 years doing the same thing. My son has spent eight years in special forces protecting this country from terrorists. But was it really worth it? They keep telling us were spending too much money on our military. But now I learn we are going to spend lots of federal funding to find out why dolphins are washing up on our shores on the East Coast. And the Government Accountability Office is going to investigate how Planned Parenthood is spending the federal dollars that it gets. In the first case, we are spending money when there’s really nothing we can do. In the second case, we are losing money as a result of fraud.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration officials get new

Could It Be Measles?

Could It Be Measles?

federal funds when an unusual number of dolphins wash up dead on the East Coast. There were 117 of them since July. There were another seven of them that were still alive. They eventually died or had to be euthanized. They could not save one of them. There are about 7000 dolphins along the northeastern coast, and 12,000 dolphins along the southeastern coast. That’s a total of 19,000 dolphins. That equates to one half of 1% of the population. The reason we are wasting money in this investigation is there is nothing we can actually do about it.

They think the death of these dolphins is caused by a virus called the Morbilli Virus. But they say they can’t tell at this time. They have to do research. All this agency has to do to get this federal funding is to declare the dolphins are having an unusual mortality rate. That turns on the money faucet. They are going to do autopsies on the dead dolphins. They say they are going to put together a national and international team of experts to study the problem. And they say it could take months or even years to get a final report. But then they say they can do very little to stop it unless they can find a root cause that they can blame on humans. In the US alone, since 1991 they have had 60 unusual mortality events but they have only been able to find the cause and 29 of those events.

We can expect all these scientists to take several years to try to find what’s killing these dolphins with a success rate of less than 50%. But they have already stated they can’t do much about it if they do find a reason. They say it would be too expensive and too difficult to catch and vaccinate 19,000 dolphins. If humans dies, we can usually find out what killed them in just a few weeks. Why can’t they find out what killed the dolphin my doing an autopsy in a few weeks. I have a quick solution. Refer to the Dead Dolphin Study this study was extensive. And it appears these dolphins got the measles. There kind of measles. The reason we humans have this under control is we vaccinate ourselves. The dolphins can’t do that and we can’t do anything to vaccinate them. Additionally, as the study indicates, these cases were off the coast of Italy and they also make reference to cases off the coast of Spain. So the population of dolphins worldwide is really what is important to consider.

Did you know there are 41 species of dolphins in the world? And did you know there are about 170 million; but I rounded down. That does not seem like that much until you show the number like this: 170,243,000. So when the scientists want to get some extra cash, they create an epidemic. The history they talk about is actually worldwide. Two major periods; 1988 and 2002. History also tells us that only occasional cases occur off our coast. So it was 25 years ago when we found out what it was that was killing the dolphins. It was 11 years ago when we had the second epidemic. And we learned in both of these major events, we could not do anything about it because we could not vaccinate 179 million dolphins. We can’t even vaccinate all the humans in the world. And in some cases, with humans or dolphins, cases of the measles can lead to very dire consequences when the brain gets attacked. But that only occurs in humans about 1 in a million. And people die. And so do dolphins and we do not to this day, know how to stop it. The scientists still say they are not sure how it is happening but the virus is the culprit. We are wasting money doing all this research on dolphins when Mother Nature is protecting most of them.

And then they want to find out if humans are causing it? Well, duh! We capture dolphins and keep them in captivity so we can enjoy watching them do tricks. Well, the trick is on them. We gave them a mutated form of our measles. And that is what is killing the dolphins. If fact, we come into contact with numerous animals – dogs, goats, cattle, horses, sea lions, whales and others. And they have a form of the measles virus. And it is just too late to stop it.

Mom and baby And that leads me to the next subject. Abortions and Planned Parenthood. It is no surprise that several of these clinics are under investigation because of how they bill the US government. The clinic in Texas is now being investigated because they may have fraudulently billed the government for services they didn’t render. And they falsified medical records to justify these claims. They can’t claim the cost of an abortion but they can claim everything else. And that’s how they get paid by the US government to perform abortions. If they botch an abortion, they send the person to a nearby hospital to get the damage repaired and we pay for that, too. And we don’t bill them for it.

We’re going to spend a fortune trying to find out what happened to 124 dolphins because they’re so cute. But we are also going to abort thousands of innocent unborn children. We care much more about dolphins then we care about human beings because dolphins are cute and children are an inconvenience, a burden and too expensive to care for. Those of us who think abortions are necessary treat unborn children like a mole. They have it removed so they can look better and have more sex without any consequences. There is a saying you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. These people eat their cake and they eat their young not realizing that those young human beings are actually the icing. These people don’t scrape off the icing and then eat the cake except when it comes to having their own children.

Here is the decimal number of how many dolphins we are losing: .0000072. And here is a statistic to which to compare: an estimated 1.16 million abortions were performed in 2009, 1.13 million were performed in 2010, and 1.06 million in 2011. There are approximately 4 million births in the US each year. We would have 5 million if abortion wasn’t legal. And that brings us to the percentage of children dying from abortions – 26%. If someone says they are very concerned about the death of 124 dolphins, and it is well worth it to research what happened to these dolphins, ask them at what amount would it not be ok? How many millions of dollars is ok.

We spend billions in monumental efforts to try to protect all the creatures on the endangered species list. But that shouldn’t cost too much.  In the 2010 the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of Threatened Species, the total was 17,315 species. There are a total of 1,740,330 species on our planet overall. It might be only 1% of the total that need protections but they say they can’t evaluate all of those not on the list. They only evaluate 47 thousand a year. That is 2% a year. Just how much money is spent on that research? And keep in mind, that it will take about 38 years to research them all. In 2010, a total of 47,978 species were evaluated, so let’s break it down a little further. It took years to work out saving the bald eagle and it took just as long to save the alligators. So are we working on saving the rest of the 47 thousand?

Baby with towel

The Human Species

Babies in the womb are a species, the human species, and the most important. After all, we can control the entire universe since we are so smart. Yet we cannot protect the unborn because that would just be inconvenient. When bald eagles were on the list, it was illegal to interfere with an eagle’s nest which would have a few of those things called eggs at various stages of development. A pregnant woman has just the same thing in her womb. But because it happens to be in her stomach instead of a nest, we act like the baby doesn’t exist. We are such fools to have let this happen. The ones who believe it is ok and it is no big deal, are even bigger fools. Most of these believers have never seen a bald eagle or an alligator, but they have seen many babies. They even know with absolute certainty that it is a baby prior to birth. It is not a choice if the baby doesn’t get a vote. How many people now living would wish their mother had aborted them? Life for a bald eagle is just as important as a baby in the womb. But the bald eagle is not more important.

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Put a Cork In It! Global Warming Takes Another Hit!

Posted November 12, 2013 By Gospel

cow4It seems the environmentalists are taking another hit. And it also means the livestock in our country are going to have to feel the brunt of the environmentalist wrath. They will need to put a cork in it. I don’t know about you, but walking around with a cork stuck up that spot at the end of your digestive system that emits its final bi-products and those pungent aromatic expressions that  permeate the air and provide for moments of embarrassment if anyone is nearby, is just not my cup of tea. And it appears the most serious culprit in all this is the methane gas; the part of the process that creates the big stink.

A study just released reports the following:

“The main constituent of natural gas is methane. Although atmospheric concentrations of methane are much lower than that of CO2, totaling less than 2 ppm, pound for pound it is a much stronger GHG. Its “global warming potential” is 25 times higher than CO2′s over a 100-year time horizon, and even higher on a shorter time span. While most atmospheric methane has been traced to natural or agricultural sources, a large increase in atmospheric methane from natural gas production could overwhelm the undisputed downstream emissions benefits of gas in electricity generation, compared to coal.” – See more at: http://www.ideaslaboratory.com/2013/10/23/geoffrey-styles-study-casts-doubt-on-claim-shale-gas-is-worse-than-coal-for-environment/#sthash.aPur9dxm.dpuf

So you are telling me, the coal mining process is better in protecting the environment than the liberal’s fascination with extracting natural gas? This means the liberals and progressives are going to be at it again, coming up with their smart ideas that have unintended consequences.  They have to counter this new bad news. This problem is almost as bad as the consequence of 5 million hardworking Americans losing their health insurance due to Obamacare while the system itself has only signed up about 50,000. And it should be noted that 50K is made of mostly those folks who are going to have to pay nothing into the system since they are dirt poor. This methane emission problem, in the process of opening more natural gas wells, is going to do more damage to the environment than coal. Honestly, is this bogus global warming fear-mongering ever going to end? Don’t they realize that the sun is running out of fuel and will die out in about 1.5 billion years? That means we are all going to freeze to death. You know, through nature’s own natural form of cryonics.

It won’t be long before the environmentalists come up with the idea of corking every methane-emitting orifice on the planet. That means corks for everybody and every mammal on earth that emits methane as a natural function during just about every minute of their lives; awake or asleep. And you will only be permitted to remove the cork during the visits to the toilet where you will sit on a receptacle that has been outfitted with a methane gas suppression device. The good thing is this effort is going to create more jobs on the farm since someone is going to have help remove the corks and replace them when the cows and all their other farmland friends need to go. I am just having a image flash through my mind about who is going to be removing and replacing those corks for all the chickens. Of course, it will be easier when the chickens are trapped in their cages, but those organic chickens are running free like hippies, so catching them is going to be a challenge, in deed.

The environmentalists are going to create new businesses to make all these different corks and suppression devices for use in the home, at work, all public bathrooms, and of course corks and devices that will be suitable for use in all areas of livestock maintenance associated with the entire agricultural production processes worldwide. And you can bet the government will step in to help all these businesses get startup funds so government officials can get their normal fiduciary kickback to deposit in their Political Action Committee (PAC) coffers which I like to call their form of a taxpayer subsidy.

But isn’t it interesting how every time the environmentalists take a hit, we end up taking a bigger hit. And global warming continues to be just a façade for another parasitical move on our tax dollars. Thank you so much, Al Gore. You have done so much for us all. We will be infinitely grateful – even more so when you leave this earth for good. But we would like to recommend you use Cryonics funeral services instead of cremation which would generate additional CO2 emissions into the atmosphere or burial where extremely pungent gases may escape and pollute our environment during your natural decaying process.  Oh, wait! Isn’t CO2 emitted during the long-term maintenance of frozen bodies? Dang!

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Perfect Way to Wash Your Cat

Posted March 28, 2013 By Gospel

 

1. Put both lids of the toilet seat up and add 1/8th of a cup of high quality pet shampoo or bubble bath to the water.

2. Pick up your cat and sooth him with comforting strokes as you carry him into the bathroom.

3. In a smooth synchronized and swift movement, drop in your cat and quickly close the lid. You will need to place your bowling ball bag or a heavy brick on top of the lid.

4. At this point you will be witnessing the self agitation cycle where a great deal of suds will be created. Lots of noise coming from the toilet will indicate that the process is working really well and of course, your cat is beginning to really enjoy the frolicking in all the bubbles. It is best not to put in a rubber ducky since it may not survive.

5. Flush the toilet 3 or 4 times. This provides for the power wash and rinse cycle. As an added option, add your favorite, scented fabric softener to the water in the toilet bowl during one of these flushes to bring out a healthy fluffy coat.

6. At this time, still leaving the bowling ball in place on the lid, go prop open the front door and make sure no one, including the dog,  is between the toilet and the front door.

7. Put on heavy duty protective work gloves, stand back as far as you can behind the toilet, remain perfectly still and quite, and then quickly open the toilet lid.

8. The cat will rocket from the toilet and streak out the front door to begin the drying cycle. This cycle saves money on running the dryer and will also make ironing unnecessary.

9. It is best to time these baths about the time you need to clean the bathrooms because both the cat and the toilet will be sparkling clean. 

P.S. And, don’t forget to read my hilarious story about “Sam the Terrible,” the cat I lived with as a kid. 

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Sam The Terrible!

Posted January 26, 2013 By Gospel
Cat2

The Cat I Grew Up With, and All My Other Furry Friends

Conan the Barbarian was bested by Sam the Terrible. When I was a teenager, there were critters in my life who proved to be invaluable guides on my destiny into the dark, mysterious and challenging world of adulthood. They were not peers, or friends or even enemies in the human form. They were animals in my life who kept me in stitches; and probably out of trouble. I believe those buddies of mine protected me from the big, bad mean world until I was ready to take that leap. I learned humor and a joy for life through their example.

Nowadays, a haberdashery seems to be primarily a small store selling something to do with sewing and clothing. But when I was a kid, the haberdashery was where I could buy small animals; the babies of the breed. As a side note, I actually learned how to sew on our old Singer sewing machine but that is not what kept me in “stitches.” The little ducklings did. They were my favorite purchase at the haberdashery where we bought lots of things for our animals.

We lived on a small 5 acre ranch in Southern California, about fifty miles East of Los Angeles. We had horses and a cow, chickens, dogs and a cat; and we had the occasional little ducklings, of course. I would find a small pan about 6 by 10 and about two inches deep, fill it with water, and surround it with a short piece of chicken wire that was about 3 feet tall. That was necessary to keep Sam the Terrible from having ducks for dinner. The ducklings needed their privacy and did not want to be disturbed. It was then that Pete, the Weimaraner, and I would take the prone position, my hands tucked under my chin and Pete with his face resting on his long front legs while we stared at baby ducks. His ears were touching the grown but not mine. Mine stuck out too much.

We would actually lay there for hours enjoying the show. I looked over at Pete, smiled, and began to wonder if these ducks were dumber than he was. They wouldn’t use the ramp at all. They would walk right up to the side of the pan, lob their breast over the edge and plop on in. They were having almost as much fun as we were watching them. The dunking of beaks from a darting neck would collect enough water to splash on their backs. And then the wing-flapping would follow just before the process would begin again. Out of the pan, back in the pan, a hundred times a minute. Pete’s a bird dog but I don’t think he realized those ducks were birds.

Pete’s IQ was about 3 points above a rock. He wouldn’t know a duck from an ostrich but if he had a choice he would try to each the ostrich not knowing the duck would taste better and the ostrich would kick his butt. But that is not the reason I referred to him as a “Whine-a-runner.” Two reasons come to mind, but there are hundreds of others. My brother and I would saddle the horses, get our .22 rifles and go rabbit hunting in the vineyards. Pete would always be with us. That’s why we never shot any rabbits. There were miles and miles of vineyards near our ranch. There was a dirt road which ran through the middle with thousands of grapevines to either side. It was off season so the grapevines had no leaves. And from the back of a horse you could see everything happening around us.

As we were riding down the road, a rabbit sprang out from the left, saw us, and darted off down the road with a yelping Pete in hot pursuit. We brought our rifles up to fire but we knew, with Pete in the way, hunting rabbits was going to be pretty difficult. We could only watch. About a hundred yards down the road the rabbit made a hard right, went in about 3 or 4 rows and turned left. Pete got his first turn right and made it right in the same row as the rabbit. But Pete missed the second turn left. We almost fell off our horses with laughter, watching the rabbit go north and Pete going east. As he ran down the row between the grapevines, we could see him bobbing up and down in hot pursuit of nothing. It’s obvious; Pete can’t think and yelp at the same time. That’s for sure. The things Pete did were why we loved him so much. He was hilarious.

At dinner time, the dishes of food would find their way out into the backyard where Buttons, our Australian Shepard, and Pete and Sam the Terrible would dine together. Ironically, Sam and Pete would finish about the same time. When Sam is done he turns and walks off minding his own business. And that is exactly the way he likes it. But Pete, overjoyed with a full stomach, wanted to play. That is all he does except when he is watching ducks. He chose to play with Sam. Dumb.

He began is playful little leaps just to the left of Sam taunting him to play. Sam has very little patience for this mousey colored big stinkin’ dog. He turns, looks Pete right in his poor sad eyes and with claws fully extended; Pow! Pow!….. Pow! Pow! and Pow! Pete received right and left shots on both sides of his cheeks with blinding speed like he was in a fight with Manny Pacquiao, the champion Filipino boxer. Let the yelping begin. But this time the yelps had a familiar ring of pain to them. Pete comes running to me for protection and sympathy. While laughing like crazy, I would cup his face in my hands and rub his cheeks to ease the pain. I would follow that with a few words he hears often: “You are really dumb!” The next week, we learned Pete has a very short memory. He tried exactly the same thing and Sam obliged by giving him a history lesson. Yelp! Yelp!

You know? You have not lived until you have kissed a horse’s nose. You just want to make sure they are not in the process of sneezing at that very moment. Featherfoot was my horse. What a wonderful animal. She gave me thousands of hours of pleasure and companionship. Riding, running and just about every other joy a young boy could have with such a great horse. I kissed her on the nose often. And after we bred her to Poco Mo, she gave birth one early morning right in front of me while I watched. I didn’t learn about the birds and bees at school or from my parents, Featherfoot taught me. Mares are very protective of their foals. But shortly after she cleaned up her newborn, she let me hold him. But I was the only one she would let near. Cradling a brand new baby horse, not yet dry, in your arms, is a treasure. A sweet smell, pristine hair, a cuddly face and 4 long wobbly, spindly legs were part of a surprisingly strong little creature.

“Dindin,” as my mother called it, in her English accent, was ready and waiting. He didn’t really need help in finding the drinking station Featherfoot had prepared, but to guide him in the right direction was my pleasure. Instinctively, he began nudging around between her hind leg and lower belly until he found it. The nudging also helps with the milk flow. Mother Nature has such wonderful designs of perfection in her little miracles of life.

Featherfoot was mine. Bossy was not. But milking the cow was nonetheless my job morning and night. So I made the best of it. I would tie her up in the routine position, take a seat on my stool, place the bucket in just the right spot and begin the milking process. The trick was trying to get it done before Bossy put her hoof in the bucket. If I took too long, she would punish me in just that way. I think we named her Bossy because of how pushy she was. Bossy and Featherfoot taught me a lot about women. I had this look like Alfalfa from Spanky and the Gang so girls didn’t show that much interest in training me.

Sometimes I did take a little longer than usual with milking because Sam and Pete were right there next to me waiting patiently for our daily ritual. I would stretch a full nipple from Bossy’s utter and squirt each of them in the face. More milk was on their face than in their mouths. The joy on their faces and the frantic licking to clean them up, told me they didn’t care. My aim was not that great so sometimes I had to make quick multiple shots. I guess you could say they were rapid-fire automatic nipples mowing down the enemy.

I learned to relax and remain calm from being around Poco Mo, our young stallion. He was a nervous wreck. Stallions are like that due to their hormone imbalance. His constant gnawing on the wooden posts of his covered stall was really destructive. It got to the point where we had to save his life by getting him out of there in a hurry so we could repair the stall. The roof was about to cave in on top of him. I believe he may have known it was dangerous in there because, not like other horses that sleep on their feet, Poco Mo would go outside and sleep in the manure pile, laying down. He not only had bad breath in the morning when he got up, but his whole body reeked of poop. He had to have a bath almost every day. And we often rubbed on a special oily mixture that helped ward off the flies. It had an unusual odor to it but it smelt a little sweet. The smell was much better than poop, though.

That’s when I figured out what Poco Mo was up to. He gnawed his stall down because he was trying to look like a burley handsome lumberjack to impress the female equine beauties living nearby. It also seemed he was a little shy and nervous about meeting them. But if you got him close enough, he would get right to point and chat up a storm. I believe he was deliberately setting himself up for a daily bath and fragrance treatment for the same reason. He wanted to look sharp and smell his best for the ladies. I think that’s where I got the idea I needed to take baths more often and splash on a good dose of Old Spice to make myself presentable. I figured that would do the trick when I went to school. I tried my best but I didn’t get any tricks.

I have had many other fine animal times. But what about Sam? Why “The Terrible?” Sam takes the prize. He was the absolute ruler of the whole 5 acres. I already explained how he treated his buddy, Pete. Buttons was the smart one. She never bothered him. In fact, she was so quiet, calm, sweet and respectful she was almost boring. It was midday and another cat made the mistake of cutting across what we can only define as Sam’s place. Sam knew his boundaries. And he also knew there was a big oak tree on the neighbor’s property next door. And that is where that innocent trespassing cat ended up out of fear and common sense. It was the only place to fly in getting away from Sam the Terrible. He stayed in that tree for several days, trembling, wondering where he might go – as long as it was safe. Never again did that cat cut through the Territory of Terrible Sam.

Sam didn’t like birds hanging around, either. He cared for birds only in one way. And it wasn’t pleasant for them to find out how. He had a saying, “The early worm gets eaten by the bird.” And the bird gets eaten by Sam. My parents had a huge picture window in their bedroom. It was like the biggest widescreen TV you ever saw. On dewy mornings we would scurry into the bedroom to see the “Sam Being Sam Morning Show.” It was so exciting; and not wanting to miss a moment, we allowed no time for preparing the popcorn. We had no time to get chairs, either. Standing up for the show, that was the ticket. At least it was free.

The birds would lite on the grass outside that window looking for worms. And we would stare down to the left side of the giant screen TV to get a clear view of the corner of the house. That is where Sam would begin his stealth-like approach. The tension was instant the moment he appeared. Although we really wanted to warn the bird, messing with Sam’s plan of attack could be deadly for us instead of the bird. It was very impressive how he would be in one spot low to the ground in a crawling position and then in another spot a little later, closer to the prey, without moving a muscle. The length of time it took him to get to the launch position seemed like ages. Bossy was mooing at me because her utter was full and couldn’t care less about Sam. But she had to wait. And finally, after what seemed hours with Sam snaking into position, the iron was hot for striking.

The move was like lightning and what happened next took place in a nanosecond. Sam would dart in the direction the bird and while underway, Sam’s GPS would lock-in on the target with his latest weapon – SAM the Missile. He knew the fowl was going to take flight but in what direction? Sam didn’t care because his guidance system was prepared to follow its target. There was not a chance of an escape. Pete was lucky. He witnessed the wrath of “The Claws of Sam,” and lived to experience the “Claws of Sam” another day. And he lived through that as well.

The claws of the missile hit their mark – all over that bird. It was very impressive and as Sam walked off with Tweety in his mouth, the show ended. It was rated PG for action. We were too young to be permitted to watch the second part. It was too gory for the faint of heart; or those who might faint; even those who might deposit their breakfast on their shoes. There is a sequel that comes out every dewy morning but it had a very similar storyline – just a different bird.

Describing Sam snaking along the ground, reminded me of the time we vacationed in a cabin in the mountains. Sam came along with us. If he needed a vacation, he didn’t show it. After our first peaceful night of sleep, my father and I stepped outside the cabin to smell the fresh, morning mountain air. In doing so, we usually check the ground to make sure there weren’t any varmints around. It didn’t take long to notice what appeared to be a motionless snake lying on the ground in front of the cabin. As we were looking, wondering how it got there, Sam came nonchalantly walking around the corner of the cabin and took a sitting position right in front of us and right next to that snake. The ground around the cabin was mostly gravel. So I got an idea and executed it immediately. I quickly, and intentionally, moved my foot, making a rustling sound in the gravel. Instantly, Sam went into launch mode and shot into the air about 6 feet; while all the time staring at that snake. He had killed it. But after hearing the rustling of the gravel, he had his doubts. And by the time he hit the ground, he had determined that it wasn’t going to move. He then went on about the business doing what cats in casual mode do.

That is not the only time I got a chance to mess with Sam without him knowing it. He had a very clever method of coming to the front door and asking to come in. It was usually pretty hot in Southern California. The global warming was killing us, and Sam, too. We always left the door open but kept the screen door closed so the air could come in and the flies would stay out. Sam didn’t meow or knock on the door. He didn’t scratch at the doorway and he didn’t say, “Open the dang door.” Sam was special. He did things differently. He would walk away from the door about 10 feet, turn and dart to the door, jump about 5 feet in the air and bury his claws in the center of the screen. He would not let go until someone opened the door. Oddly enough, he uses that same technique on birds. The glass of water we kept on the floor next to the front door was my idea. You just pick it up and throw it through the screen. Sam takes his need to lick himself dry elsewhere. Fill the water glass, he will be back.

Why am I different? I didn’t have a street corner to hang around on. I didn’t have a bunch of lazy, crazy teenagers standing around trying to help me decide how to do absolutely nothing in my life and get paid for it – by my parents. I was living in Southern California so I didn’t even know separate water fountains existed in the South. The kids on my street were busy tending animals and doing chores so you wouldn’t get a lickin’. Works pretty good. With a little physical encouragement from my parents and help from my very good friends; Pete, Buttons, Bossy, Featherfoot, and Poco Mo, I turned out OK. I didn’t learn anything from Sam except how to fight, kill snakes, eat birds and smack Pete around. That’s about it. Is Sam the reason I joined the military? Maybe.

At least that, too, continued to keep me off the block and into a nice safe foxhole. Here Foxy!

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The Gospel of JJ

Sam with An Innocent Smile

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Global Warming Useless to Fix!

Posted October 16, 2012 By Gospel
Global Warming

It is “Useless” for USA to try to fix Global Warming Problem!

I am simply amazed at the pie-in-the-sky efforts of really smart people; regular folks with 4 year degrees all the way up to highly educated folks with Ph.ds in engineering, inside and outside the study of the global atmosphere fields; continuously wanting and insisting we need to rid our country of fossil fuel energy production to fix the “so-called” Global Warming Issue. They think if we can correct our problem, somehow that will be enough to fix the entire planet – that global warming would cease to be a problem. The question is; what impact can we actually have? If we were to begin doing what they say we need to do, what impact would we be able to accomplish? At what price?

First, as treaties and agreements show, very little effort is actually being implemented by other countries to address this “problem.” That clearly demonstrates that other countries emitting non-natural CO2 place their economic development efforts above the need to reduce CO2 emissions. Countries like China and India, among hundreds of others, are going through their own industrial revolutions firmly based in the exploitation of fossil fuel technology.

These countries, just like ours, dependent on fossil fuel technology, are like hundreds of bullet-train locomotives pulling thousands of cars filled to the brim with coal and oil, racing down tracks at Mach speed, being forced to miraculously and instantly reverse course going just as fast carrying non-fossil fuel power sources in the opposite direction. All these countries have fragile economies that cannot bear to have even a minor disruption. They are teetering on the brink of financial disaster because they are dependent on a world economy that has to maintain a reasonable degree of stability. And everyone knows that that stability is being severely challenged by financial stresses across the globe. A perfect barometer is reflected in the dramatic fluctuation of international markets on every piece of unfavorable news. One country cannot run off on its own making dramatic changes in infrastructure without impacting every other country’s wellbeing. That is so obvious.

Put it in human terms. Let’s come up with green blood to replace all the red blood in each person’s blood stream, internationally. First, we have to manufacture the green blood. Then we have to get every single man, women and child on the planet; billions of them, to go to a clinic to get a transfusion. Just the medical expense would be insurmountable let alone the transportation expensive.

But, if you don’t yet get the idea that this fight to rid ourselves of a CO2 emissions problem is a waste of time, let’s take a look at some interesting facts:

I was on Twitter doing my thing when I was told our part of CO2 “Non-Natural” emissions is 18.3% of the entire planet implying that that was a very serious problem. And because of that, global warming is going to kill us if we do not do something about it. And if we don’t, we would be kicking the can down the road for our grandchildren to clean up. But is it a serious problem? Is it worth all the expense to try to fix the 18.3%?

ABSOLUTELY NOT!

The key word here is “non-natural.” They don’t tell you that 90% of all CO2 is natural. That only leaves us with 10% of the CO2 that we as a planet are responsible for. And the US part is 18.3% of that. So, that means we are responsible for 1.8% of the all the CO2 in the atmosphere.

But there is more these experts avoid telling you. Of all the greenhouse gases: water vapor, methane, CO2, etc., total CO2 is 9-25% of all greenhouse gases. So they are not sure whether it is 9% or 25%? The difference is 16% points. Not “exactly” an exact science is it? Well, let’s be fair, like “Our Fair Share” as in a familiar talking point! We will take the liberty to use 16% which midway between 9 and 25. So, let’s take 100% of all greenhouse gases and fence off 16% of that and call it total CO2 percentage. Now we need to reduce that down to 10% of the 16% which leaves us with 1.6% of total greenhouse gases that are not natural. That 1.6% number is the total non-natural contribution by the every country on the planet.

Now we can focus on that 18.3% figure. Of the 1.6%, factoring it down to our US CO2, the “non-natural” contribution to the atmosphere is a whopping .28%. Now that is a mindboggling number. It is a little more than 25% of 1 percent of all greenhouse gases. That is the total part of all greenhouse gases we can control. Good luck trying to get China or India or all those others countries deeply invested in fossil fuel technology to help us with this.

Surprise! I am not done yet with the numbers – .28% is our part, right? The question becomes what would it cost to have any significant effect on that part. Well, here is another kicker. If we could reduce that number by 5%, what would that cost? Let’s just say for argument’s sake, it cost us 1 million dollars. To get another 5%, the expense to do that would need to double. In other words, we would need 3 million dollars to get us to just 10% of .28%. That alone is an exponentially unbearable expense. The real cost would obviously have to be in the multi-billions for that 5%. God help us if an unexpected increase of clouds develop anywhere on earth. That would negate our billion dollar effort to save the planet. Clouds cause global cooling.

Does anyone smell any rubber burning here? Pun intended. We just flat can’t get anywhere close to solving a problem like this. The problem is so miniscule that we could have more impact on our environment if we all held our breath for 30 seconds three times a day. That wouldn’t cost us a dime.

FACTS AGAIN:

  1. All CO2, Natural and Non-natural, makes up 9-25% of all greenhouse gases.
  2. An average of the 9-25% of CO2 is 16%
  3. That leaves us with 1.6% of all greenhouse gases that are contributed by all nations.)
  4. Of the 1.6%, the US part is 18.3% of that.
  5. 18.3% of 1.6 leaves us with .28% which is the Part contributed by US sources.
  6. We only have the ability to impact .28% of all greenhouse gases in our atmosphere.
  7. All the smart people want us to shut down multi-trillion dollar industries and their entire infrastructure to fix .28%.
  8. Nations have spent billions studying, selling and pushing this issue. All wasted money!

 

Note: Can we do the following:

Shut down multi-trillion dollar infrastructure and ever fossil fuel using piece of equipment: cars (private and commercial,) trucks (private and commercial,) Trains, Air Planes, all military equipment, weapons systems, gas stations, refineries, plastic plants, millions of different types of power generation equipment and their plants, coal mines, coal refineries, electric power plants that use coal extensively, and the companies that manufacturer all this stuff. Also shut down every oil rig. There are companies worldwide whose livelihood relies on supplying their products and service to support our industries and infrastructure. Plastic comes from petroleum products. We would need to stop plastic manufacturing.

Millions of employees nationwide would lose their jobs because all those companies, businesses, partnerships, sole proprietors and independent business owners who hire them closes shop.

The above is just the tip of a giant iceberg. Yes, I know global warming melts icebergs but that doesn’t reduce the magnitude of our problem implementing those global warming ideas.

How about the cost in replacing all infrastructure and industries with non-fossil fuel sources? How about the need to retrain millions on how to operate and maintain all this new equipment and infrastructure?

We would have to get the whole planet to agree to do this since our economies, banking systems and investments are all linked inseparably to the fossil fuel industry.

We cannot get there from here. We have no money!

 

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My Little Duckling

Posted October 11, 2012 By Gospel
Cute+Ducklings+Funny+Pic

Just so you know, there is a lighter side to my persona. When I was in my 20s, living in Munich, Germany, working for the United States Army, I spent a lot of time writing poetry. Not much poetry because it took me awhile to get it close to being right. It’s things like this that I like to share with those who follow me on Twitter and Facebook. Compliments of the Gospel of JJ.

 

 

MY LITTLE DUCKLING

 

 I had a little duckling,

I called him Socrates,

He was so very naughty

And very hard to please.

 

He’d wake me in the morning

With little peeps of rhyme,

I’d tell him to be quite

And give me peace of mind.

 

When he was unhappy,

I’d take him to the sea

To play upon the wet warm sand

And perch upon my knee.

 

He loved no more than bathing

In mothers coffee cup,

I’d fill it to the brim

With sparkling seven up.

 

He loved the little bubbles

To run along his sides,

It made him feel so happy

And then he’d run and hide.

 

But I knew where to find him

Wherever he may go,

He’d leave his tracks all over

Like footprints in the snow.

 

But time has passed on by now,

He grew too old, you see,

I no longer have my duckling,

I had him with my tea.

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