So I had assumed that given the sensitive nature of my current employment that this blog would be off limits. However, I met a jounralist who is a fellow lover of liberty and felt it wise to introduce her to my blog so that we may with greater ease stay in touch. I googled this page and clicked on the primary result and I found my blog was available! Frabjous day, indeed!

The current work of downsizing the hostile organization that I talked about last post is going well. Many men (I dare say that there are literally no women in the competition) have left in a blaze of glory, while others have felt the situation was too precarious and wished their former employers well. Most have gone into agriculture, which is honorable employment, to be sure!

It seems we are doing some good work here. The new arrangements we are making with a third organization seems to be working to our favor in terms of being more inclusive and human friendly.

Means and ends

In two weeks I deploy to Afghanistan. I have noticed something about my interactions with people. Usually when it is time to say goodbye, or in the past I have felt that I have more vested emotional interest in the departure than the other party. I mean more longing for the parting to not occur and for perhaps the duration to be short. But during the holidays as I was parting company with certain favorite sons and daughters of this world, I felt almost pithy and nearly flippant, as in, "Yeah, Whatever..."

In my mind I know that I am about to step into a precipace. War is something I have never been to, especially an insurgency. And we will be in a wild area. Death and injury occur. My head tells me that the American style of warfare leads to very few friendly casualties. Chances are that I will not be injured. But my friends and family were rather intense with their goodbyes. Perhaps it is part of the nature of man to disregard momentous moments like leaving friends and family for live war because to deeply feel the departure is to accept the gravity that destiny may call.

If not, I return in August. By that time, I may be dealing in black market modular prosthesis.

I feel that the Marine Corps has been for me an investment.

After time

No pictures this time. It's been a while. Work is picking up tremendous speed due to a mass move we will conduct in January overseas. But it's only for 7 months and then we will be back. With any luck, all of our well trained employees will return but the competing organization will have less.

The state of my children's education has been on my mind of late. I recollect something I learned some time ago about the foundations of our American education system being based on the Prussian model. What that means, or, rather, what that entails is a system constructed to create automatons. The Prussian model was a cog in the Austrian-Germanic war identity. It was very type cast and the ruling elite wanted a mass of automatic, taught by memorization but robbed of conceptual thought, pawns with which to send into battle for something so silly as nationalism. What that required was the training up of thinking things to be simply acting things, creatures happy to pull levers and push buttons, willing to without question obey as a master might direct.

I believe that we have dark remnants of that here in America. We have developed into a rather knee jerk society, angry at race because bleating philistines on the TV tell us to be; happy to spend money we don't have because vacuous women and men in false bodies tell us it is good. We even vote for highly qualified circuit lecturers to high office because some media machine recommends it.

So I did the best thing I could for my boys: I bought an abacus. We are surrounded by parents with children very good at vomiting a whole print ribbon worth of neat-a-ry. But to these poor babies they are sounds. Just sounds. I am reading the ancient Romans and Greeks. I found a library collection from the 1950's that has assembled every important work of literature since a thousand years before Christ. And I mean it. It is a 20 volume set of about 20,000 pages. It seems those old smart Greek and Roman philosophers and great teachers that prophets and sages today quote and cite felt it right to teach a boy physical courage and valor until he was about 7 or 8. Then they started in with the genius, and not memorization, but conceptualization. For my boys, they know and understand physical courage and I can calmly state that they fear no man or animal except those they should. And papa destroys those with heavy hand and unyielding strength. We have thus taken our journey into the land of mathematics, the conceptual kind. Silas knows his numbers well up to 20 without a beat. But what do they mean? As it turns out, in his 4 year old mind, not much. Or they did not mean much. But now, with the advent of our rod and bead device that slides, he has learned that 10 beads is equal to 10 fingers is equal to 10 speakers on the wall or 10 rail road tracks on the ground. In other words, he knows now that the concept "10"is a conceptualization of individual units brought together 10 times over! I cannot tell you how exciting that is to me. This is the foundation of arithmetic, the foundation of mathematics, which is to be the foundation of his rational, logical mind and his conquering of emotion! And that is to rule the world where ever you are, where animals that grew out of men bleat and demand to be fed by someone or something because they abdicated the ability to do it themselves.

It is good to be 4 and to understand the what time forgot.

Of babies and rabbits and credit cards

Janet had the baby. It is a He-American-Man child named Manus Strider Freeman. He scored in at 8 lbs, 2 oz and 19.5 inches.

Good wife elected to go for natural birth again utilizing only her rawhide toughness and my Russian breathing techniques. Hard labor started at 8pm and baby came at 1:06am. It was textbook.

Janet's midwife, Olivia brought 3 assistants who were very helpful and knowledgeable. I enjoy seeing these earth-mama's who know their trade so well.

There were certain issues with the logistics of the birth, however. I should have set the tub up on previous days on dry runs. I did not. When the day came, it went up easily enough, but the hose we were supposed to use did not reach, so I got an outside house and hosed it off with a bleach solution. No wild North Carolina parasites gon'get my baby! But when I attached the hose to the adapter on the sink, it blew off and stripped the threads. Not discouraged, I looked back to my parents days as magnetohydrodynamics consultants and remembered that there is a faucet on the bottom of every liberty loving water heater in the land. Those without said faucets are democrats and hate humans. SO I attached my hose to my patriotic water heater faucet and out came hot water---and silt. Lots, and lots of mineral waste. She wanted natural; she got natural.

But imagine the shock when a 70 gallon waterheater cannot successfully heat 300 gallons at the rapid rate! I was not shocked. Shock is for amateurs. I had already 4 large pots of water boiling away on the stove. It took about 20 5 gallon boiling pots to get the water at the baby friendly 100 F. But it happened.

Water broke at around 12 pm and as previously mentioned, baby came around 1am. It was a success. Little to no tearing. No baby issues. And momma slept in her own bed that night.

Of course Silas and Atlas are treating him well. We never taught them to be selfish. Silas calls him "The baby brother" and "The Silas brother" and Atlas just calls him "baby". They always want to hold him and be silly to get him to laugh. Little do they know that before his Manus eyes they are hazy white blobs moving about at this point. Give him a month and he will think he came to the greatest show on earth.



As far as babies go, he sleeps well and eats well. But again, we don't expect or teach our babies anything other than being good boys. Bad children are for bad parents, we've decided.

In other news, we were able to pay off $3200 in credit cards just like that in a fell swoop. The benefits of being a paid mercenary of the US Gub'ment are endless. I decided to chop these cards up so as not to be tempted to use them again. Now they will sit; the limit being mathematically opposite of the current amount. The credit gods will continue to smile and rain down blessings in the form of a higher credit score. At this rate, if I start snorting cocaine, in ten years I could be president! We'd have closed door military tribunals and executions for terrorists, enforce immigration control, and strip non-Americans of constitutional rights when here illegally!

And now the circle of life: One of our rabbits got out the other day and was heard in our neighbors yard giving protesting shouts. Something had snatched her! A few days later, I happened to catch her after she came back and when I picked her up, I felt something was amiss with her underside. I rolled her over and she had a gaping hole in her belly! It was just a tear of the skin, nothing in the organs, but still! A gaping hole! I assembled a committee of me and the dog and we deliberated that a vet would charge us way to much to fix this rabbit, good breeder that she was and all, and she did not rate that kind of medical care. So, I took her by the back legs and reviewed how the old British gent had explained you yank the ears back and break the neck. I decided I would probably only succeed in giving her a terrific pull of the neck muscles, so I did it the American way: I whapped her against a nearby oak tree (three times). She was liberated!

I then commenced to in the skinning and gutting of her, cutting away and feeding to the dog those parts associated with her belly hole. It was his fee for his consultation. I then quartered her up and put her in a vat of non-alcoholic beer, Lawry's seasoned salt, vinegar, salt, and red pepper. I let her sit like this for a night.

I stripped the skin of fat and flesh, packed it in salt and stapled the hide to a board to let dry. Dry she did! I then put the it in a solution of rubbing alcohol and water for 3 days. Then into the washing machine! It came out alright, but it is just good for a wall hanging. I needed to add acid and alum to the water in order to make it leather. Next time I will.

But the meat! I fried it then broiled it with potatoes, onions, and carrots. I cooked it too quickly. With older rabbits you have to cook them slowly. Otherwise they are boot tough. She was.

The babies didn't mind though.

This bathroom was an atrocity. It mocked me every time I walked by. It had not been updated since the 80's. Occasionally, time stamping something in the 80's is good, like music and women's fashion for instance. But not linolium. There is a reason why "linolium" sounds so close to "Lenin". It's because it is evil and means you harm!

So, me, $700 dollars, and my new fantasticy leather tool belt that makes me look like a John Wayne gun slinger, and two weeks of 4 hour a day work (save saturdays, where it was like 9 hours), I transformed that stinking suppository of old people buns and broken dreams into a tumbled marble Romanesque temple to the nature of man and his greatness!

I tore up that foul leninoleum! I ripped out the nasty sink where so many elderly germs were placed, installed cement board, patched wall holes, hung a lenin (there he is again!) weave wall paper, mortored, tiled, grouted, cleaned, installed the sink with brass faucet ( bathrub brass replacement will follow), reinstalled the toilet after raising up the drain pipe an inch for the sake of the tile and then I closed the door. I felt victorious because it will obviously increase our home value. Plus I now feel more confident in my ability to refurbish our kitchen!
Mind you, if you are basically handy and are gifted about the hands like I can be (just ask the wife....grrrrr), a professional looking bathroom (or tiling job) takes some time, patience, and a solution oriented mind.

This was my first tiling job ever and I feel as though I owned it. I am advancing a strategy for the master bedroom to make a steamroom with a sunken bathtub. I can do that!

Obviously it has been some time since I have posted. Know that is it not because I am indolent, feeling guilty for not working on the property and thus not posting to hide myself like a shadowy fiend! No, I have not posted because I have been working too hard. With Janet preparing to spray babies all over our house in a matter of weeks which will cause her to be out of the fight for a few days at least, I decided I had better prep a fence around the yard and complete the guest bathroom.

The picture above is of a large and vile reed plant that is doomed. It is deep rooted and so I burned it. The yard was collateral damage. The plant did not go away all the way, so I proceeded to build my fence anyway and I will kill that infernal hellbush some other day. I think the end result fence is a good look. It is Atlas proof... for now.

More later.

Progress with no money

Physically we have done little on our property because we have been so busy otherwise. We did prime the rest of the chicken coop as shown below, and the babies like to get put up on top so they can stomp around.

This rabbit below that Silas is holding keeps getting beaten up by the other male. He is the one I made retarded. Now the other rabbit picks on him. He got bit up pretty bad and the other male won't let him eat, so we put him in isolation and he is getting better. When he is healed, we will put the aggressive male in isolation and let the retarded rabbit have his way with the females.

Because of my reasoning, I am thinking that reincarnation is true and these female rabbits are the re-embodied souls of Ted Kennedy and Osama Bin Laden. Their choices in life were unfortunate because nothing but punishment awaits them here.

We elected to build a hutch for the rabbits to raise babies in.It is 4x2x1 feet, made into two compartments with a wee baby bay.

We built it all together because Janet designed it but I had to built it. Hugely pregnant women have difficulty with carpentry.

The box is all together and primed (we are saving up for paint). Unfortunatley, round one failed. The momma rabbit got out of the fenced area and dug a hole thatthe dog found and compromised. We moved her and her babies inside and they died in two days. Fail.

7 months! 1 to go!

Silas flowers from our yard.

Last saturday which we spent the day long building things and cleaning the yard, the boys took some time to dance like wild men. These pictures were all taken to the tune of "Maneater" by Nelly Fertado. There was some serious--- possibly criminal--- girating in our house.

After that I dug about a a dozen two foot deep post holes. As it turns out, wet clay is not as fun to dig in as you would think. I have more to dig today. It shall be done.

In the end, all this work is enough to wear a boy out.