This ain't Hell, but you can see it from here

Author: Wesley Wilson AKA Enigma4you

  • Well, I did it

    Well, I did it

    We had planned it.  Weeks before we had talked about doing it. I was nervous during the drive up, wondering about what could happen. Things like this can change your life forever. That is, if you believe the things you read on the internet.

    The first night I was tired. The next day we had talked about it but I got a stomach virus and spent most of the day trying to hold my insides, inside.

    Then it happened, it was spontaneous, the way it should have been.  We just did it.  It was not disappointing but also it did not live up to the hype on the internet.

    If anything I found it fun and amusing instead of scandalous. I am glad I did not have to pay full price and was happy that I had the option to pause things if I needed to.

    I admit it. From a hidden compound, I downloaded and watched “The Interview.”

    I can see why it pissed the North Koreans off so bad. I half expected there to be some sort of disclaimer from Sony, ‘Watch at your own risk,’ or ‘Watching this movie may cause acts of terrorism to fall upon you and your loved ones.’  I was wondering when the North Korean spies would burst through the door and shoot the TV. None of that happened. I was entertained and don’t regret watching the movie. It had some plot twists and kept me entertained and wondering what would happen next.

    If you find yourself with a couple of hours to kill, have a warped sense of humor, and no kids under foot, it’s worth the $5.99. Plus you can drink the beverage of your choice and pause it when the phone rings or nature calls.

    I am a closet Seth Rogen fan. I find him funny and wrong.  He is kind of like that friend you have had forever that you know is going to say or do the wrong thing. You know, the one you hang out with because deep down you see in him a part of yourself.

     

    I give it 3 out of 5 bullets for artistic merit

    5 out of 5 for topic

    4 out of 5 for being funny.

  • I got all of you something, Now quit yer bitching.

    I got all of you something, Now quit yer bitching.

    Growing up we had an Angel that decorated the top of our Christmas tree. We were an Angel family, not a star one. As a matter of fact to this day when I see a star atop a tree I feel like something is wrong. But that’s a different story.

    Our Angel was dressed in green burlap, her wings were tattered and askew and over the years a look of terror developed on her face. You see not only was she the Top of our Christmas tree, she was also the first target that any projectile weapon received by Santa was aimed at.

    My father, generally a docile man the size of a bear was the primary offender. Twice that I know of he knocked her off her perch, both times with a BB gun. That’s right he shot her with BB guns. for years I thought the Angel was a victim of friendly fire, that is until I myself, surrounded by the pandemonium that is Christmas morning took a shot at the Angel. I understood then,  that sometimes the Angel just needs to be shot, I would claim as my father before me had ,that I was just sighting the gun and one of the kids must  have put in a single BB.

    I did it with my first 1911, not a real one but it was real to me. This one was made by crossman and it came with a real Army 1911 holster and web belt.(No Doubt pilfered by my Dad from his day job). That was the first of several BB guns I would receive on Christmas. In the years that followed I would get a CO2 pistol and later a Pump Gun. The last being the ultimate in  BB armament.  It could put a .177 caliber BB thru both side of a steel barrel with ten pumps,  or raise a respectable welt on my sister’s ass with one, my sisters ass being the best and largest target of opportunity.

    Time passed and the Angel became more and more tattered. It had lived through 3 Boys and their guns and was now facing a generation of grandchildren that ran strong on boys. My dad in his final years had become wheel chair bound and his eye sight was fading. Never one to be deterred, on what turned out to be his final Christmas he took my sons new Nerf Gun and laid waste to the Angel once again.

    With these thoughts in mind I looked long and hard for a gift suitable for all of you aspiring Bill Cody’s and Back yard plinkers.

    Don’t Shoot Your Eye Out.

    Merry Christmas, the space bar cocks the gun up to three times. The mouse aims, the left mouse button shoots.

  • A Truce of Sorts

    A Truce of Sorts

     

    It was Christmas Eve, 1914, and against all odds, peace broke all over the front lines in WWI.

    It was not planned. No formal agreement had been reached. It was, as far as I can find out, two opposing side that needed a chance to collect and bury the dead. Then a miracle happened: Peace on Earth.

    There are many stories about that truce. Some say that it began with one side singing Christmas carols and the other joining in. Others claim it was to collect the dead, and still others claim one brave soul stuck his head up and said “If you don’tshoot, we won’t either.” Very likely it is all of the above.

    The front lines stretched for miles. Each unit reached an agreement with its opposing unit on its own. But the fact remains, during the war to end all wars, peace broke out, if only for a moment.

    One German unit had a barber. He gave haircuts to men on both sides. Others traded trench art and souvenirs. Some units had communal meals with the enemy/friends. There is no proof the soccer match of legend took place. There is also no proof that it didn’t.

    All of the participants in that moment of peace have since died. Some died in battle. Others lived through that war and the next, and died of old age, as all things must. It’s hard to think of the old men that we knew as WWI veterans as young men, but they were. They had the same hopes and fears that the modern soldiers have. I think most of all they wanted to have a time of peace and calm. A time to remember that there was a world that existed out side the front lines, the no man’s land and the trenches. They wanted to be boys again, if only for a moment.

    The truce of 1914 was the only time this happened. By the next year orders were given that no one would “Fraternise” with the enemy. The war has taken it’s toll on humanity. Hopes that the war would end quickly had faded and all sides knew it would get worse before peace could be found. No one ever dreamed how bad it would really get.

    So here we are one hundred years later. It is once again Christmas, and also once again we have troops deployed all over the world. It is unfortunate that we cannot hope for peace to break out.

    I think I may have been born a couple of generations too late. I am foolish enough to have the hope for peace on Earth and goodwill to men. I think, maybe, that some of you out there in TAH lands are also.

    I would like to take this moment to mention a few warriors who have been to hell and back this year by name . Feel free to add to the list in the comments.

    Our own Mustang1stlt

    My Son, Zachary Wilson AD3 USN

    My friend, David Bells Spc4 USA Purple Heart Recipient.
    Merry Christmas

    Snoopy Vs, The Baron always makes me think of that truce.

    [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jlf—13Q0g&w=500&h=375]

  • I believe…

    I believe in Father Christmas.

    A few years ago, I realized that if a man is lucky he will go through the three stages of Santa Claus.  I have been fortunate in my life, I have hit each stage and am a better man for it.

    For those of you that don’t know what those three stages are, I will explain.

    Stage 1.  I believe in Santa. As a child, the belief in Santa is absolute, we know that there is a Santa, and we thrive in the wonder and spirit of Christmas.

    Stage 2. I don’t believe in Santa. I remember when I found out there was no Santa, it changed my life, innocence lost.  For a while I still wanted to believe. Then I pretended it did not matter. Later, I became jaded and scoffed at the whole idea, how could I have been so foolish? Later was the acceptance, Christmas had lost its magic, it was all about the gifts I could get.

    Stage 3. I am Santa Claus, I have been Santa for almost 30 years, and with the birth of my first son I inherited the title. Christmas had its magic again, I saw the wonder of it all again, through the eyes of my children. I have loved every second of it.

    I can remember one or two Christmases as a child, I remember every one as an adult. Those are the most special. Any parent who has ever watched A Christmas Story and remembers the dad saying “What’s that over there?” will understand that it’s about bringing joy to the kids. I have held many titles in my life, but the one I liked the most was Santa. One Christmas as an adult stands out in my mind, we had five kids under the age of twelve, the oldest two knew the deal with Santa but they were under orders not to ruin it for the younger ones. Over a period of days we had manages to smuggle five bikes and other things into the house and hid them in every possible location.  Christmas Eve: getting everything out was a logistical work of art.  

    I admit I am at a bit of a loss this year, my kids are all grown and getting on with their own lives.  I have a beautiful granddaughter, but she lives on the other side of the country, facetime and skype are nice but its not the same as being there. So I guess I need to add another Stage.  I used to be Santa.

    For those of you with young kids, please remember to buy batteries for all the toys, and I promise in the years to come you will look back on putting toys together, and then not getting any sleep fondly. I can honestly say that in my days as Santa I enjoyed getting up on Christmas morning to see the kids open their gift more than any gift I ever received.  I admit I pretend to be a bit of a Grinch at Christmas, but it’s just a front I use to hide my real identity as one of the millions of retired Santas in the world.

    Merry Christmas to you, my TAH friends and “God bless you every one.” 

     

  • Content of Character

    “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”   MLK

    That quote has been running through my head for a few days now. I have written and deleted thousands of words concerning the death of Micheal Brown, I wrote about justice, I wrote about riots and I wrote about the facts.  But nothing I wrote conveyed how pissed and frustrated I am with this whole big mess. So now for better or worse I’m going to write what I think. I have read a large part of the “Data Dump” I have listened to the interviews.

    Micheal Brown’s parents and supporters would have the world believe that Officer Wilson made a choice to kill their son and now hero.  Truth behind that fiction is Officer Wilson gave Micheal Brown every opportunity to live.  Brown is the one who made the choice to die. I know that is harsh but it is the truth.

    Officer Wilson was a good police officer by all accounts. He had earned praise and commendation from the City of Ferguson in the months prior to the shooting. He had served the public trust. Everything I have learned about him points to a man that any police department in the country would be lucky to have.  He did his job with diligence and devotion, there is nothing to indicate that he was a racist or that he was anything other than a man of good character.

    Micheal Brown is something of a puzzle. He had been 18 for only 3 months before the shooting. He did have a juvenile record but it is sealed. It is rumored to contain a charge of second degree murder as well as ties to a street gang. The Juvenile Court system has refused to  release that record due to privacy concerns but has stated that it did not contain any Class A or B felony charges. His family has claimed that he was a regular teenage boy. They paint a picture  of him that simply does not stand up to scrutiny.  They say the pictures of him with known gang members mean nothing, that he was able to adapt to his surroundings.  They claim he has recently found religion but at the same time there are stories from his friends that he regularly  drank and used drugs. From everything I can see he was a man of questionable character.

    I said earlier that Brown made the choice to die. I stand by that statement for allot of reasons. Brown made the Choice to commit strong armed robbery and simple assault on a store owner.   Brown made the choice to assault Officer Wilson, Brown made the choice to grab for Officer Wilson’s weapon. Brown made the choice to turn and charge the officer instead of surrendering.  Brown had several opportunities to change  the outcome of that day, but at every turn me made the worst possible choice.

    Browns family would have us believe that Officer Wilson drew his weapon and shot with no provocation other than the fact that Brown was Black.  I don’t think that the color of Brown’s skin had anything to do with it.

    All one has to do is look at the Content of Brown’s Character.

     

     

     

  • Thank You.

    Thank You.

    At different times today most of us will sit down and have a meal with friends and family. Prayer will be said and and many will voice the things they are thankful for.

    This time last year my son was at sea. I am thankful he will be home and once again surrounded by family. My thoughts are with those that have taken his place, the Carl Vinson Battle Group. My thoughts  are also with those still deployed to Afghanistan and  Iraq as well as bases all over the world and here at home in the US.   As we all know there is always someone on duty protecting all of us.

    I want to take the time to thank Jonn and all of you. First to Jonn for allowing me to post here and to all of you for reading my ramblings.  When I get comments on my post a such as “it’s getting dusty in here” or “I laughed out loud” it makes my day. I am thankful that TAH and sites like it exist, they give voice to concerns that otherwise would be over looked and prove that in diversity there is strength.

    All over our nation this week there have been protest and demonstrations, unfortunately a few people with evil intent cast a shadow over all of those that were protesting peacefully. It is no secret that I do not agree with cause of the protest, but never the less I am thankful that we live in a nation where the right to protest is protected, just as my right to disagree is protected.

    I am a very fortunate man, I have    in my life a good woman who loves me enough to point out my flaws as well as support my dreams. The last year has not been easy for us but we have not only survived but grown stronger. I am thankful for her  faith and trust in me. While I have not always been able to be with her in person, my heart is always there.

    Happy Thanksgiving

     

     

  • Fayetteville Feel Good Pointless Gun Buyback

    Fayetteville Feel Good Pointless Gun Buyback

    From the Fayetteville Observer

    So many guns were collected during Fayetteville’s first gun buyback event Saturday that police had to start giving out IOUs after about two hours.

    More than 250 guns were collected, according to a Fayetteville police spokesman.

    The Rev. Mark Rowden, who was a driving force behind the event, said the response was incredible.

    “It has exceeded my expectations,” he said.

    How much taxpayer money did they spend you may wonder?

    Yep, I know the article claims that around $25,000 came from seized funds but isn’t any money seized by our government the property of the citizens?

    Anyone who surrendered an assault-style weapon or handgun got a $200 Visa prepaid gift card. Anyone who turned in a rifle or shotgun was given a $150 gift card.

    Fayetteville police gave out $30,000 in gift cards and IOUs for another $20,000. The people who did not get gift cards will get them later through the mail or by picking them up.

    What about checking for stolen guns, were any arrest made?

    No questions were asked when the guns were turned in. Police officials would not let members of the media photograph or talk to people giving back the guns.

    Police officers checked the guns to make sure they were in working order. Serial numbers were checked to see whether the weapons were stolen, several of which were.

    “It doesn’t matter,” Fayetteville Police Chief Harold Medlock said. “The driver of the car still has anonymity.”

    From what I read and saw on news videos they collected a lot of junk and a few scary black guns.  They gave more than a pawn shop would have. I saw a lot of Marlin model 60’s and a bunch of single shot  shotguns.  I did see something that appeared to be a real Ivory gripped revolver, but we all know that will get destroyed with the rest of the junk. It would never end up in some police officers collection would it now? Anyone?

    I don’t see where this did any good at all other than possibly encouraging the theft of guns in the days and weeks leading up to this well publicized event.

    So a total of $50,000 dollars was spent to get 250 guns off the street, it makes good press but in reality it did little to get guns out of the hands of criminals.

    They would have been better served to have spent that 50 grand in firearms safety courses for the public, or just dropping it into a salvation army pot.  Either of those would have made a greater impact on the community.

    I will admit that had I known I would have been more than happy to sell them some of the junk I have sitting around.

     

     

  • Remembering Colonel Chuck Hall

    Remembering Colonel Chuck Hall

    I once saw an Army Colonel in full class A uniform hug a man in battered fatigues and a boonie hat. Both had tears streaming down their faces. They had not met prior to that moment in time and probably never saw one another again. That date was November 11, 1984. My best friend Patrick and I were at the dedication of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Statue. We were the guest of the Army Colonel. His name was Charles “Chuck” Hall.
    Those few days we spent with Colonel Hall impacted my life in ways I could not have imagined. I am sure others have a different view of him, but to me he will forever remain a kind and unassuming man who took the time to show two teenaged boys around Washington, and who shared part of his story with them. I am sure he had better things to do that weekend. Patrick’s father and Colonel hall were friends. Pat and I took a road trip to Washington where we were the guests of Colonel Hall.
    Neither one of us expected to have seats in the VIP section when President Reagan gave his speech. Colonel Hall arranged that. We didn’t expect anything from him. He took the time to play host and later teacher to us. He shared part of himself with two teenaged boys who were fascinated with the act of war but had no real understanding of its cost and the toll it takes on those who survive.
    That night at his apartment he showed us pictures from Vietnam. We saw a young man with his buddies. He named the names and used military terms we pretended to understand. He said things like ‘A team’ and ‘Montonyard.’ He took the time to explain what those words meant. I saw a flechette for the first time. I saw Montonyard bracelets that had been given to him as gifts. I saw him pause more than once to compose himself as we looked at photos. There were some he would not let us see. I saw photos of mass graves, the result of an attack on his base camp. I saw the real cost of war.
    I saw and learned things that weekend that I did not fully understand for years afterwards. I did not understand the significance of that hug between strangers who were also brothers. I did not understand how hard it must have been for him to share those parts of himself with two young men who were obsessed with the glory of war. I know now why he chose to share himself. The lesson was learned.
    I was looking up some information on the internet last night and found out that Colonel Hall had recently passed away. He served 27 years in the military and an additional 23 years as a government contractor. He did three tours in Vietnam and was a Purple Heart Recipient. He had a large family that he was dedicated to. It is my hope that his family will at some point read this and know that he had a profound impact on the lives of at least two teenaged boys who were better men for having known him.