Returning to a subject I touched on a few days ago… the great state of Arkansas may have ceded its distinction as the #1 state for our right to keep and bear arms, but it still has something over Wyoming, an advantage that no other state can claim. Look again at the gun grabbers’ map:
See it? Arkansas is the only A+ state bounded exclusively by likewise pro-Second Amendment territory. It doesn’t share a border with a single repressive gray state.
Wait a minute, you say, what about Montana? Or Alaska? Nope. Both border Canada, and that’s even worse than being California’s neighbor.
A plausible case could be made for Louisiana, I guess, but we have to consider its coastline on the Gulf of America. Past 12 nautical miles, national sovereignty no longer applies. That’s a bug, not a feature.
Despite its landlocked Liberty, Arkansas’s northeast corner is itself only 70 statute miles from the Illinois line. The Mountain, at least, is 200 miles away.
Anyway, it was something I noticed.
At the risk of having my Redneck Card revoked, I admit that I pick up after Smudge using those ubiquitous little green poop bags. I’m neither ashamed of that nor proud — it’s what I do, ’cause I don’t like stepping in dog shit.
A box of 54 rolls (810 bags) costs $12.99 via Amazon. That supply lasts the Heeler’n’me over six months. They work just fine.
Except when they don’t.
Breaches are rare. When they happen, it’s usually not the bag’s fault. But whether it is or it isn’t doesn’t really matter, does it? The result is the same either way.
Such was the case the other day. I’d inadvertently grabbed a small twig while gathering Smudge’s business.
Naturally, I washed my hand(s) afterward. But that wasn’t all.
See, I didn’t notice right away that my right hand was, um, soiled. A few minutes later, I used that hand to remove my stocking hat.
And stuff it into the pocket of the shirt-jac I was wearing.
A pocket which also held a pair of gloves.
I didn’t bother doing a thorough investigation. No, I simply did a load of laundry — hat, shirt-jac and gloves (plus whatever else was in the laundry basket at the time). That was the right thing to do.
And then I washed my hands again.
When you come to Ubi Libertas Blog, you get what you get. Sometimes, you get an undeniably strange metaphor for life.
The drumbeat is established now — every other day, I haul firewood up from the wood yard and stack it next to the stove. I imagine there’ll be bitter-cold stretches when I do it two or three days in a row, as well as temperate periods when I can go a couple of days without re-supplying, but I think this is the normal cadence of the chore.
Yesterday, it was time.
Beautiful morning. I felt the need to swing an ax before slingin’ splits, though, and so I did. I chunked-up two more big oak rounds, then decided to test myself with this:
That section of trunk came from just below the crown. It’s a crotch (and you know how much I love crotches), the very definition of gnarly. I could be excused for leaving it for the hydraulic log splitter, but I didn’t.
I flipped it upside-down on the chopping block so that I’d be striking the end opposite the knotty crotch. I raised my ax and brought the head down with as much velocity as I could muster.
Well, now that was cool. It split, all the way through.
That was the easy part.
I managed to carve only a few small slabs from the halves. Tough stuff. The two pieces that remained, which include the knots, will be excellent all-nighters.
The exercise also had me bringing over a fresh pallet, the third I’ve allocated to the 2026-2027 season. Splits from yesterday’s work got stacked there.
There’s more where that came from, of course.
The admiring audience cheered and applauded as Willie G., Nancy and Karen Davidson left the small stage, waving and smiling. I walked alongside and chatted with Willie as we stepped down from the platform — I’d just finished interviewing the three of them at a special event, and he thanked me for being “gracious and entertaining.”
No sooner had we entered the wings than a Harley-Davidson staffer approached us with news of violence at a gathering of bikers on Long Island — four shot, seven stabbed, one dead. The incident involved two rival “outlaw motorcycle gangs” — Hells Angels MC and Pagan’s MC.
Willie shook his head and looked at me. “You know what’s coming, right?”
“I sure do,” I replied. “A lazy press will turn a crime story into a biker story and tar us all.”
He nodded. “You try to talk some sense into ’em, and we will, too.”
When my office phone started ringing off the hook the next day, I did exactly that. (Not that it changed the flock mentality of the news business, but I gave it my best shot.)
That was 24 years ago. It’s far worse now than it was then.
I found myself re-living that media-relations memory in light of TTUN firing its head football coach this week “for cause,” that “cause” being an affair with a staffer. In a twist no one predicted, he was arrested the same day and has been charged with home invasion, stalking, and breaking and entering, all related to the object of the affair.
And while I understand that the public only knows about this guy and his indiscretions because he’s a sports figure, this is not a sports story.
It’s not about the institution. It’s not about the game of football or its coaches. And no, Buckeye Nation, it’s not a “❌️ichigan still sucks!” story — there’s nothing to gloat about here.
Media have lots of opportunities to take other angles, ones that are actually relevant. Power and influence. A culture’s acceptance of philandering as the norm. Mental illness. The epidemic of unqualified and ill-prepared diversity hires throughout the profession. Hell, make it about extortion and golddiggers.
But while that reporting takes place against the backdrop of a major college football program, it’s still not about sports.
If you’re among the millions following this story, please remember that. Shun the sensational and the partisan. Hold your preferred media outlets (and yourself) to a higher standard.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable