The glow

There was a big ol’ Punkin Party on The Mountain overnight. We had as many as four whitetails at once on the trailcam up-top, three down below. By 1am they’d all disappeared. None of them paid their customary visits around daybreak, curiously, and they stayed out of camera range ’til late this afternoon.

As the sky brightened over the campground it was chalky and the air was chilly, the perfect setting for a morning fire. I got a respectable blaze going, and eventually Deb joined me outside.

Temps remained in the 50s well past 10am, but we had hot coffee and the warm glow of a campfire. Simple pleasures.

The park is jammed. Credit the “Ride the Ozarks” motorcycle rally for that, along with the unmistakable rumble and rrrrrrrap of Harleys on the adjacent highway.

Some folks find the sound of freedom annoying. I prefer the peace of The Mountain, for sure, but to me those exhaust notes are sweet music.

Deb chose today to give Dipstick his annual clip. (Translation: She shaved his hair off.) First she drugged him, then she clipped him, then she drugged him some more before finishing.

Scout and I wanted no part of the furry wrestling match happening inside the bus. We hung out in the yard and watched the campfire burn down to ashes.

Speaking of our girl Scout, she’s done amazingly well adapting to life with three good legs. Her spirit and irrepressible joie de vivre are responsible for that, in my opinion, and she serves as an example to the rest of us.

I baby this dog and I’m not ashamed to say so. She’s the best.

Gas prices have been going up recently. I’m sure you’ve felt the pinch. The national average today, according to AAA, is $3.891. Arkansas doesn’t have the cheapest gas right now, but a statewide average of $3.358 still puts it in eighth place.

Once again The South, the former Confederacy, is the region where a gallon of regular is least expensive. (See the map.) Go figure.

By comparison, Ohio sits at $3.939 and our old stompin’ grounds averages right at four bucks, almost 65 cents per gallon higher than where Deb and I buy gas these days. The People’s Republic of California, as expected, has the most expensive gas in America — $6.392 statewide, with one county checking in at a wallet-raping $7.282.

The regime, of course, took credit when prices went down and now blames Big Oil, small business and the president of Russia as prices go up. They’re lying about all three, of course, counting on the masses to be dumb enough to buy the tripe they’re selling.

Wise up.

Regular readers will recall posts in which I’ve lamented the decline of essential masculinity in American culture. It’s a concern that Deb shares — when we’re out she’s been known to glower disapprovingly at pasty, puffy betas.

It wasn’t always this way. My male contemporaries and I were raised by masculine men to be masculine men. We knew it was inevitable for there to be wussies among us, but we were taught that the inevitable isn’t necessarily acceptable.

No American boy wanted to be labeled weak, lazy, or a momma’s boy.

Our culture has been feminized. Our boys are being crippled, emotionally and intellectually. Society no longer demands that men be men. To be masculine is to risk being tarred as toxic.

Tucker Carlson just released one of his “originals” that explores the subject in far more depth than I can. “The End of Men” goes beyond cultural influences into motives, environmental factors and potentially catastrophic consequences.

Since it went live, the production has been relentlessly lampooned by wussified media, well-groomed metrosexuals with pedicure subscriptions, he-fems and the high priests of cultural rot. I’d say Tucker struck a nerve.

I haven’t seen “The End of Men” yet, but I promise you that Deb and I will be watching it soon.

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath

#LetsGoBrandon #FJB