Useful idiots

Cindy and Jesse sittin' in tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage. What would that love child look like? Anybody doubt that all these lovely leftys conspire to help one another? I know what your thinking, here we go.... black helicopters....the Free Masons...the International Monetary Fund! That's not where I'm going with this. The left has a very sophisticated network that allows them to assemble large numbers of protesters in a very efficient way. Say you want to go to the big protest in Washington. You can find a place to stay for free with one of your fellow travelers by looking at the protesters website and making the connection. It's just that simple! So if you wonder how they do it, providing a place to crash is one way they make it easier for someone who would otherwise be just bothering the locals to attend these protests. For those of you who are still picturing the Cindy/Jesse love child..... here's a picture of a cute squirrel.

I love this picture. It's a Ukrainian squirrel for which the people built a bridge over a busy roadway at a cost of about 100 thousand euros. They did this not knowing whether this little guy and his pals would use it or not. The best of humanity embodied in this little animal.

Cathy and I ran into a protester on our trip to Washington in March 2003, he asked us if we "were going to the rally", we said "yeah!" As we approached the Mall, it became apparent the protester's direction and ours were not the same, we walked toward the pro troops rally, he toward the anti war rally and immediately his attitude changed and he moved away from us as quickly as he could. I know our intentions were good. We wanted to wish him well but as soon as he found out we were not his side he could give a rat's ass about us... so much for the humanity of the left. I would like to call that person a partisan hack, but that would be giving him too much credit.

The bolshies continued to haunt us, a fake journalist tried to get an interview with one of our pro-troops people, who was smart, reserved, and did not give him any red meat.

The interviewer was an A.N.S.W.E.R. infiltrator, the man barely visible on the left in the above picture, a group we had been warned about. When the pinkos weren't able to infiltrate, they tried to disrupt, ooooooh, at a very bad time, Rolling Thunder arrived at the time they tried to yell their anti war slogans and discourage our support for the troops. They did this from the sideline and they had no success. Imagine trying to be heard over more than a 1000 booming Harleys echoing between the big stone buildings that line the Capitol building end of the Mall.

This man came by motorcycle by himself to the rally. He was a big man, well over 6 feet tall and Cathy, my wife, liked the way he looked so she snapped this picture. The rally was organized by the G. Gordon Liddy show and attracted about 10,000 people. Many of whom likely came from the immediate area, but some did what Cathy and I did. We left Kentucky on Friday evening in the mini van and arrived in Washington early Saturday morning, the rally began at noon. We walked around and took in the atmosphere of our nation's capitol. Cathy took pictures and we both marveled at the grandeur of the buildings, monuments and statues. We then went to the rally, this part of our journey is where we ran into the above mentioned protester. The rally was inspiring, with country music and famous conservative speakers including the G-man himself. After the rally was over we walked to the Lincoln Memorial and to the Washington monument and by the reflecting pool (which was mostly drained for renovation). We then decided it was time to make our way home and headed back to the van. Getting out of Washington was as bad as everybody says it is, but once we were out of town and on the highway, the main battle was with sleepiness. No-doz and ephedrine were my friends. We both had jobs and a home with pets to return to. That is the difference between the commies from Seattle, Berkeley, San Francisco, Boston, New York and the like, and the conservative movement. We have responsibilities and more importantly, we honor them.

Crashing stinks

Going on a nice, half days ride is a purely pleasant thing. Longer rides are more epic, involving planning for weather, big changes in temperature and the other worries associated with long term outdoor activities. Shorter rides are mostly concerned with an all purpose garment or layering of clothes to stay comfortable depending upon which half of the day you are riding. A good riding jacket with armor, removable insulation and vents for air flow is usually the best option. The one thing I never think about is crashing. Don't get me wrong, I prepare for it by wearing boots, jeans, motorcycle jacket or my Draggin shirt and always a helmet and gloves. Road rash and hard pavement do not care how good of a rider you think you are. Thanks to Rob for the above picture which shows the exact moment you are glad for body armor and a full face helmet. Something my friend Dave learned this past Monday after an unexpected (they're all unexpected) spill in a low speed uphill corner. It was a lowside crash and he was relatively unhurt, except for the usual soreness that accompanies bouncing around on the pavement.
The bike, however, did not fare so well. The side casing was torn open and oil spilled from the gap. The rest of the damage was cosmetic and all can be repaired. Without a doubt, the ugliest sound in the world is a motorcycle sliding along the roadway. Neither of these pictures are of the actual crash, but that doesn't really matter. The results and the emotions are the same. It all started out as a pleasant day of riding, it ended up by the side of the road waiting for a pickup truck to take the fallen bike back to it's home to be nursed back to health by my friend, and the bike's owner, Chris. It could have been any one of us, we were all riding hard and fast. I'm just glad Dave wasn't hurt and was wearing the right gear. I used to have the attitude that if you want to ride without a helmet, fine, that's up to you. That is no longer my attitude, put on a damn helmet, somebody loves you and wants to see you again. If Indian Larry had been wearing a proper helmet he would probably be with us today. A helmet doesn't guarantee anything, but not wearing one, and landing on your head, does. You don't believe me? take a long hard look at Gary Busey.

#*&!!$% Garden!

I've called my garden several names, garden of despair, deer salad and names not for delicate ears. I now regret having said those things. My garden is making a late season surge and is producing the most interesting crop of tomatoes and peppers ever ripened in the brief history of that little plot of land. At the beginning of the year, the deer happily consumed most of the first crop of delicate little tomato flowers and top growth of about 3 quarters of my tomato plants. They left the pepper plants alone. It took a long time for the plants to recover and begin yielding fruit. I didn't realize my lack of patience and appreciation for my recuperating garden until I referred to a newly ripened burger hybrid as one of my "precious" tomatoes, the first nice thing I'd said about something my garden produced all year.... All of you Lord of the Rings fans, stop snickering.... It was then I realized that I was spoiled by the success of last years garden (a little over 100 lbs. of tomatoes).

The above tomatoes were purchased from the local farmers market, this 10 pound batch from Kinman Farms for 4 dollars. At the height of production of last year's garden, I was getting this much about every 2 days. I was spoiled, spoiled, spoiled. I made batches and batches of salsa and Cathy and I ate the sweetest yellow cherry tomatoes in the world with our lunches every day.

My first full sized tomato ripened early this month. All of the other tomatoes have been cherry tomatoes and medium sized yellow tomatoes that were volunteers growing out of the compost pile! The scarcity of tomatoes from my garden early in the season had an unexpected effect on the way I enjoyed them. It wasn't that I was particularly thankful for my small bounty, I was way to ungrateful for that. I tasted them like I would taste a first glass of wine, looking for subtleties and underlying flavors. I doubt that I've ever tasted a tomato more thoroughly than these early tomatoes that were few and yes, precious. Not precious because I couldn't get garden tomatoes, I could get them by the ton. It's because I wanted tomatoes from my garden. from the garden I tilled and amended... with... you know, the stuff you amend gardens with. Some were sweeter than others, some a meatier tomato flavor, and some with an herb taste in the background, but all particular and appreciated. If my garden had yielded 4 or 5 pounds of tomatoes a day would I have noticed that? Obviously this blog entry isn't just about tomatoes, but trying to grow tomatoes has taught me something important every year. You can learn something every day, you just have to pay attention. I've learned not to be so impatient and to be grateful for all that I have and all that comes my way....... Despite my whining about my garden, the below picture is this morning's yield.

My day, 9-11-01

I was half awake when the images of the first hit and burning world trade center tower were being broadcast on Fox News. I blinked at the screen not understanding what I was seeing, I'm not very coherent when I first wake up anyway. As it started to sink in, I thought, could it have been a Cessna or some other small plane, someone committing suicide trying to go out with a bang. But the flames and the hole were too big. Then.............

Then I knew, we all knew, this was an attack. I got up and got ready for work. I drove to work in a daze, listening to the radio, feeling gut punched and useless. The rumors were coming fast and furious, there were more planes hijacked and about to crash into god knows what. The White House was a target, there were possibly several more hijacked planes still in the air. All these were unconfirmed reports, but after each report, my heart sank deeper. When I arrived at work at 9:30, everyone was glued to the monitors. I work in a traffic control center, we have more monitors than Carter has little pills. All of the talking heads were speculating; who did this, what will happen next? Over the next hour, the Pentagon was hit, flight 93 crashed in Shanksville Pa. and both towers collapsed. The unsolicited tribute below is from a man from Guatemala.

Let's roll,

In memory of...

Those gallant passengers and flight crew members of United Airlines Flight 93 that on Sept. 11th, 2001 defeated the coward terrorist hijackers and their intended purpose. We honor you. We admire you. We salute you.

We shall never forget...

Blessed are the peacemakers...

Let freedom ring...

My brothers pay tribute with the above plaque:

On September 11, 2001, the passengers and crew of United Flight 93 gave their lives. They made this choice so that an unknown number of people could live, people that they never met. The people aboard Flight 93 gave the ultimate sacrifice. Motorcyclists from all over the free world leave this memorial as a tribute to you. Thank you for your sacrifice. May god bless you and your families.

America's 9/11 Ride Foundation, Inc.

I wish I could have participated in that ride. But it would have been too difficult emotionally and I didn't actually have a motorcycle, or a helmet, or a motorcycle license at the time.

The men and women at the Pentagon were equally courageous. They did what we know all of our military does automatically, no one left behind.

At this point, all of the bosses made an offer to the supervisors and traffic managers. If you want to go home and be with your family, go, there would be no penalty. An appreciated gesture. I don't know of it happened all at once or if we all came to the same concern at slightly different times, but everyone was concerned for Ahmad and his family. Ahmad was and is a traffic information manager, from Lebanon, and a Muslim. He left immediately to be with and protect his family. If there were any problems, we warned, call, we would use our direct contacts with Cincinnati Police to send protection at a moments notice. We were reasonably certain that Cincinnati would not be a target, so our main concern was for Ahmad and his family. He told me today (9-12-05) that he does not like to think about 9-11 because it depresses him. Men misrepresenting his faith killed thousands of innocent people and it bothers him deeply. So, when mental midgets like Kanye West regurgitate the left's mantra that George Bush is a racist, then by association all who voted for him are racists....... Let's not kid ourselves that's what Kanye and that sect of activists think of us...... I think of that day when a room full of white people, who's country was just attacked by Muslim fundamentalists, were as concerned for their Muslim co-worker as getting home to their own families.