America on the moon

July 20, 1969

Man’s first footprint OFF the home planet. A great undertaking, for certain, but even more wonderful is the fact that the only footprints up there are AMERICAN.

You have to imagine the heartburn this causes the Russians, the Chinese, and the Euro-weenies to know that only ONE nation had the attitude, the ability, and the vision to go there.

America was meant for great things. We are a nation where ideas are free to take wing like no other place on earth. And that’s the America I want to leave to my grandchildren.

This wolf, sheep, and sheepdog thing…

I posted this article linking to Jen Martinez’s blog. And I got to thinking. Sometimes that’s dangerous. But here’s some of my thoughts:

I don’t like to think of myself as a violent person. I don’t pursue violence as a normal course of events. But I am a defender. I have children. As a father, I am responsible for caring for them. This means food, shelter, education, health care, and protection.

If I didn’t clean up broken glass, or didn’t make sure food wasn’t spoiled, or that their clothes were clean and in good repair, or if I made them sleep under bridges or didn’t make them go to school, society’s busybodies would fall all over themselves telling me what a bad father I was, and they’d try taking my children away.

But protection is part of the equation too. Yes, I live in a very safe neighborhood, in a very safe corner of a very safe state. But I think in terms of preparedness. My motto is it’s better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. And this applies to my family’s defense. So I keep a gun (hell, several guns) in the house, and I know how to use them. I practice often enough to meet home defense criteria, i.e., I won’t shoot what I’m NOT aiming at, like my own foot, and I stand a very reasonable chance of hitting what I AM shooting at. With a shotgun, a pistol, or a rifle.

What am I supposed to do if my family is in danger? If I hear the sound of an intruder in my home, am I supposed to call 9-1-1 and cower, hoping that they’ll get here in time to protect me and my children? Let’s rephrase that to one of the OTHER necessities: What am I supposed to do if my family is HUNGRY? Call the local government and wait for them to provide us with food?

That’s the rest of the equation, folks. We are supposed to be protectors and providers. From time immemorial, a father was supposed to stand between his family and the cold, between them and starvation, and between them and the predator, be that human or animal. And today there are some in society who would change that. First, they tell us that they will protect us, then they tell us that they will see that we are fed, and sheltered and educated in the manner they think best for us. And the sad thing is that so many believe that the government can and should be father to us all.

I haven’t given up my fatherhood.

An oldie but goodie…

The Pope is visiting DC and President Bush takes him out for an afternoon on the Potomac … sailing on the presidential yacht, the Sequoia.

They’re admiring the sights when, all of a sudden, the Pope’s hat blows off his head and out into the water. Secret service guys start to launch a boat, but Bush waves them off, saying “Wait, wait. I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry “.

Bush then steps off the yacht onto the surface of the water and walks out to the Holy Father’s little hat, bends over and picks it up, then walks back across the water to the yacht and climbs aboard. He hands the hat to the Pope amid stunned silence.

The next morning the topic of conversation among Democrats on the Hill, CBS News, NBC News, ABC News, the New York Times, Hollywood celebrities, and in France and Germany is: “Bush Can’t Swim.”

(and we KNOW the mainstream media isn’t biased, huh?)

(From an email sent to me by Norm Ricci, an old friend from CSP Guntalk)

You thought you had a bad job…

Over at Left & Right, there’s this article. It’s a corker!

I am not without a few “bad job” stories myself. I used to work with a guy who got out of high school and worked as a day laborer for a temp agency. He went on a job to clean up the aftermath of a bad thunderstorm at a warehouse. The warehouse was owned by a company which sold farm supplies. This particular warehouse held TONS of bagged fish meal, a fertilizer. The winds of the thunderstorm had torn the roof off the warehouse and allowed prodigious amounts of water in, soaking the bags.

Well, DRY fish meal is a great fertilizer. Get it wet, and it changes into Purina Maggot Chow. My friend says when they opened the door, a writhing mass of happy maggots flowed like syrup out the door accompanied by the undescribable aroma of rancid, festering, rotting fish slurry. The maggots were several inches deep in the soaked fish meal and extended from wall to wall. He says that he and his co-workers redefined “projectile vomiting”. They also redefined “dropping your shovel and telling the foreman that there are some things that money won’t pay for.”

The fact that this friend and I were working in a carbon black plant, and he didn’t think THAT was the worst thing in the world says a lot.

You see, I worked for three years at a carbon black plant. My worst job? Maybe not, but one of the strangest…

Carbon black is a trade term which describes amorphous elemental carbon. Think talcum powder. How white it is,and how fine, and how a little rubbed on your skin makes it feel dry and slick. Now, think if it was a little more fine. Okay? Now turn it BLACK. Real black. So black that it has SHADES (really) of BLACK. That’s what this plant made. TONS of it every day. Most of it went to the rubber industry (for tires) and the plastics industry (for making black plastic films).

Reactors fired by natural gas and fed with heavy oil under controlled conditions produced what we called “loose blacks”. This stuff made talcum powder look like a shovel full of gravel. It would entrap air and the resulting concoction would flow like water. It was fine past the point of powder. The tiniest hole in process equipment would let it escape in tiny but very visible flakes like some sort of evil parody of snow.

One of the selling points of carbon black was that a little bit would produce a huge amount of color. This is fine if you’re trying to color the stuff to make plastic bags. But when you were walking through the plant, and you looked down and saw what looked like a little black snowflake on your arm and tried to wipe it off, this characteristic resulted in a black smear of several square inches.
So we were all colored black during our workdays. Clothing worn inthe plant once was never again suitable for use outside a carbon black plant. No amount of washing and bleaching would get the carbon black out of white T-shirts and underwear. The best we could do was a nice, even grey.

The company provided laundry facilities onsite for our workclothes. We had a bathhouse where EVERYBODY showered out before going home at the end of the day. The bathhouse had a clean side and a dirty side. You came in off the street on the clean side, stripped, and put your street clothes in the clean side locker and put on a “clean” set of plant clothes. Then you walked through a door to the dirty side and went to your job. At the end of the day, you came in from the plant into the dirty side, stripped, put your dirty set of plant clothes in your dirty side locker, showered, walked out of the shower to the clean side, dressed in your street clothes and went home.

Sometime during the day, you’d put your tools down and go do your laundry, washing your carbon black clothes and putting them in your clean locker.

At the end of the work day, every workday, there was a half-hour of paid overtime. This was “bathe-out”. The company supplied each of us with four bars of soap a week. Everybody had a five-gallon plastic bucket with several bars of soap soaking in a little water in the bottom along with a bathtowel. When you hit the shower, the first thing to hit the carbon blacked parts of your body was this towel soaked with soap slurry. It’d take the carbon black right off. We used baby oil or mineral oil to get the black out of our eyes. Failure to clean your eyes left you looking like you had a bad mascara application.

The work was good. The management treated us well, mainly because a huge percentage of new hires never made it past the orientation tour without walking off the new job. But it was a strange place to work. And it took a week of vacation away from the place before you could blow your nose and not find black residue on the tissue.