This morning, The First Addict was found guilty at trial on three federal charges — lying to an FFL, making a false claim on Form 4473 and illegally possessing (for 11 days) the firearm he acquired by lying. All are felony counts.
And I don’t care.
Seriously, this isn’t remotely relevant to my American Life, to the cause of Liberty, or to the restoring of the country as it was founded. I can’t bring myself to give the slightest damn about palace intrigue, nor will you ever catch me fist-pumping over the enforcement of federal “gun control.”
This is meaningless drama, a sideshow that distracts even committed Patriots from what’s important. If you find yourself giving a shit about the outcome of this trial, snap out of it.
The neighborhood boys got together for breakfast this morning.
Four very healthy-looking whitetail bucks appeared in front of Mountain Two shortly after 8am. The smallest one, it would seem, led the others to our deer block.
If these specimens are representative of local stock, that bodes well for the whitetail population here on The Mountain.
We’re gonna have to find another way to suspend our bird feeders. The new hangers I deployed recently put the seed way too close to the supporting tree. Our resident gray squirrels are having a field day.
Just look at this fat little bastard. He’s laughing at me.
Wonder Bread is fine. Nothin’ wrong at all with a fresh loaf of white bread. Truth is, however, it’s not very interesting. There’s really not much to it.
Give me whole-grain bread every time, somethin’ with nuts and seeds and damned character.
I feel the same way about beer.
Make no mistake, over the course of my drinking life I’ve rented my share of mass-produced, weasel-piss beer. About the only mainstream brands I’ll order intentionally these days are Samuel Adams, Rolling Rock and Yuengling. (Now if I’m offered a beer, of course, any beer, I’ll drink it.)
But when I buy beer on purpose, I’m after something interesting.
That’s why, when Deb and I dropped by LJ’s in Pyatt a couple of weekends ago, I picked a six of “Black Walnut” ale produced by Piney River Brewing in Bucyrus, Missouri. It sounded interesting, and it is. It’s got character.
And it’s made in The Ozarks.
Deb let me know in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want to try even one sip. She’s a committed IPA girl — well, mostly.
As for the beverage in the pic below (and in today’s header image), I have no excuse for that. The name — Liquid Death “Convicted Melon” — made me laugh, so I bought a couple of cans.
It’s just awful. Don’t do it.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB