The first I heard the word Evacuation, in the form of a directive from higher authority, was in 1979 during the Iranian Revolution. I was living in a remote village in southern Iran on a construction project that had at least five more years to complete. I was aware that the revolution was in full swing, but my sense was that the Shah would be ousted, the Mullah’s would move in and everything would be back to normal. There were signs that the situation was getting hostile, so when the company finally said leave, I was ready. Life as I knew it was about to change drastically. I was never to return; my job, our only source of income was gone; I had no home so there was no place to go. My young wife and I were adrift.

We were young and foolish, full of confidence and adventure and ready to face whatever came, so we decided to take a six week vacation and tour Europe. I don’t really remember thinking about, fretting about or worrying about what was to come next. We were smart enough to realize that what was happening to us was completely beyond our control, and we could only make the best of what we were able control.

Now, 39 years later, the call came again in the form of a mandantory evacuation due to the Carr Fire in the Trinity/Shasta county forest area. We didn’t have a lot of time, so we finished our dinner, gathered up the dogs, vital papers, three days of clothes and left quickly. Our plan was to drive south and find the first hotel we could find that would take the dogs, ride out the storm and deal with the consequences later. I felt eerily calm and resolute. Again, everything was out of our control. At stake this time, however was, our retirement home, 40 years of memories and priceless (to us) collectibles; in other words all we had worked for. I knew that I, my wife and my dogs would live through it.

On our 2nd day of exile, our local TV weatherman posted a map, showing where the fire was and what the containment levels were.  As I recall

To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before

Well I just received my “23andMe” reports on my Ancestral DNA. The reports have confirmed many of my presupposed ideas that my heratige is 53% Scandanavian; 12% British/Irish (bringing in the Viking element), 28% French/German, and the remainder broadly Northwestern European. I already knew this as a result of my one and only trip to Denmark where I was able to trace three generations of Scandahouves on my father’s side (going back to the early 1800). The Vikings landed in Ireland/England in the early days.

Apparently I also contain 283 of 2,872 Neanderthal Variants (nearly 10%) , which is higher than 58% of 23andMe’s other customers (the most being 400). What does that mean? I probably have straight hair, which I do. I’m probably tall, which I guess I am at 6′-2″. I don’t know much about the other 281, they didn’t go into that much detail.

The 10% Neanderthal Variants thing started me thinking though. This means somebody in my family tree swung down and had sex with a Neanderthal at least 40,000 years ago, and I’m still taking the hit for it today.

So…..to all the girls I’ve loved before, especially those of you who screamed “You Neanderthal”, at the end of our date, you were right. Who knew.

Memorial Day and Red Meat


All you self righteous pundits who have played the guilt cards and chastised us this Memorial Day, about Bar-B-Ques, parties and such, GET A GRIP. It is true that Memorial Day has a much deeper meaning, but you miss the point. Ten to one most of them have not lived through a war that threatened the very base of those outdoor pastimes. I lived through WWII as a child, praying our boys would “beat the hun”, that they would be safe in doing so, and selfishly worrying if I was going to be okay. Red meat was a rarity in our home during the war, and Bar-B-Ques were unheard of. For over four long years of my childhood, the war slogged on, our boys persevered and were victorious. I remember how glorious was the day the war was over.

Every Memorial Day I find the best piece of beef I can afford, throw it on the Bar-B-Que and let it smoke and sizzle. I savor the juicy meaty flavor and firery aromas and thank God and every Allied soldier, that has laid down his life for my right to indulge.

So……you snowflake talking heads, who want to make me feel bad about celebrating Memorial Day with a Bar-B-Que, listen up. Unless you are a vegan, (which you probably are), next Memorial Day (one of the two biggest BBQ days in America, and there is a reason for that) go out and buy the best piece of red mead you can afford, grill it up and salute the great men and women of our great society that have given their lives for you and the freedom you have to do that. Stop the guilt crap for crying out loud.

I Get It and It’s Not Too Late


Why all this fighting, name calling, mud slinging, hateful crap? I have had enough. I become enraged when I hear Hillary  outright lie in front of millions upon millions of people. I want to shout, scream, and rant until my dogs get so stressed they leave the TV room in fear. I understand the need for my feelings, but I don’t understand why I have to act this way.

Then somewhere I saw the image above and  a sense of calm swept over me. I have one of these buttons. So I went and found it, picked it up and held it, yes and actually rubbed it. A clarity hit like a ton of bricks.

There is no way our country can stand another four years of Progressive Politics and the so called “legacy” of the incumbent president. This great country is polarized almost beyond repair. Europe is floundering, and the Middle East is in flames, our Judeo-Christian values are slowly eroding, our first amendment is a sham, and our second amendment is in jeopardy. There is more racism and anti-semitism today than there has been in any of my past 78 years. It is really catastrophic, in my opinion, which I share with millions in this country, Europe and the Middle East.

Yet Clinton supporters steadfastly insist on a ‘first woman president’ and refuse to see or realize the peril that we face if this particular woman is elected. She has created a frustration level never before seen in this country. A frustration level that causes polarity and hate, in its venomous venting. One side screaming obscenities the other lieing, cheating and muckraking. Party candidates at odds with their parties (Trump and Sanders), incumbents so fearful for their jobs that they refuse to support their candidate with the consequence of losing their party completely, is a sure sign of depths to which our current political system has driven this country.

We have had enough. We can’t take it anymore. We long for the days of the free swinging pendulum that kept this incredible country steadfastly on a middle course. We must throw off the chains of Media manipulation, SuperPac interference, open lies and subtrefuge. None of our rights should ever be altered, none of our freedoms should ever be challenged. A vote for Trump has a chance of making a change for the better. Stand up and vote. If you don’t, a vote might not be a strong enough solution if the Ship of  State, continues to sail on its current course.

Truth in Government

Wolf in Sheeps Clothing

Propositions D an E have been put forth and touted with noble chants of making Redding safe again; lets, once and for all, help the mentally disturbed; support our men in blue, blah, blah, blah. Chief Paoletti has been trotted in front of the city council chambers for months explaining to voters that he hasn’t got enough help, response times are dangerously high, Redding is in peril, and the homeless are taking over our parks, streets and shopping areas. “Woe is me”, cries the council, “We need to raise taxes. One half of one percent only on sales tax will do it. We are going to put this money ($11 million per year, for the next 10 years) into the General Fund (the hen house where the wolves can access it at their discression), but trust us”, they say, (Wink, Wink);

Wink“it (the tax money) will only be used to make Redding safe again”. “Safe Streets Now” another slogan for disaster.

California is facing a backlog of several hundred million dollars in unfunded pension and health care liability. This, because CALPERS (the fund that pays public employees there 90% of salary retirement pensions and health plans) is unable to forcast its needs accurately. I’m not sure of the amount, but I read recently that Redding will have to come up with $1.5 Million per year to handle their share of the shortfall. Where does that money come from? You guessed it, the General Fund.

Sales Tax is a regressive tax. It adversely affects people with a fixed and low incomes, and they will be required to pay a disproportionate amount of the tax increase. There is no fairness in this proposal for two of the largest groups in Redding’s taxpayer base; retired and low income folks. Low income families, those closest to being forced into the streets, will be harmed immeasureably which will in turn compound Paoletti’s problems.

Before you vote on D and E, please know what you are doing, who you are affecting and how you are affecting them. The City Council doesn’t care, they will be long gone when the real damage is done.

Pigs at the trough2

The pigs are at the trough again.


Boom. Right Or Wrong.

MARIANAS: CREWS The ground crew of the B-29 "Enola Gay" which atom-bombed Hiroshima, Japan. Col. Paul W. Tibbets, the pilot is the center. Marianas Islands.
The ground crew of the B-29 “Enola Gay” which atom-bombed Hiroshima, Japan. Col. Paul W. Tibbets, the pilot is the center. Marianas Islands.

Just finished reading Bill O’Reilly’s “Killing the Rising Sun“. As I have said many times before, I lived through WWII, remember it vividly, and had family serving in the Pacific from Midway through the end of the war. I don’t really remember the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I do remember my cousin returning home from the war and how happy I was that it was over.

Over the years I solidified my opion of the decision President Harry S. Truman made, and I have always felt that we did the right thing ending the war by whatever means available to us. Japan was showing no sign of surrender, even as we opened it’s back door, Okinawa (losing 6000 American lives), and prepared to fight Japan on it’s homeland, they would not unconditionally surrender. Estimates of 100,000 to several million allied lives and more millions of civilian lives would be saved by forcing the surrender. Japan still had 40 million rabid followers of Hirohito vowing to fight to the last man.

As I read O’reilly’s description of the horrendous devastation of the two cities I paused. Descriptive words like vaporized bodies, skin falling off, instant death, and total devistation, caused me to rethink my feelings and judgements. Then I recalled the Bataan March, the Philippine autrocities, the Comfort Women and the take-no-prisoners stories I heard as a child, and reread in O’Reilly’s marvelous recounting; my original feelings were reinforced.

I whole heartedly believe that Truman and the Joint Chiefs made the correct decision. We had spent too many years, lost too many lives and shed too many tears to, any longer, put up with a petulant dictator (Hirohito) and an egomaniacal general (Tojo) to continue sheding more precious American, Australian and British blood.

Read the book, form your own opinions remembering over 1,000,000 Americans were killed (406K) or wounded (607K) in WWII, and the likelyhood of doubling that figure was at stake when the Hiroshima/Nagasaki decision was made.