What's Worse In The News ?

What's Worse?
 A Pew Forum Study last year found that Christians are being persecuted - by their government or by independent groups- in 131 countries of the 193 countries in the world.
 What's Worse?
 Germany is sending its poor senior citizens who can't afford private nursing homes to public nursing homes as far away as Thailand and the Phillipines to take advantage of lower costs. Can you imagine being shipped to the Phillipines, thousands of miles away from your family and friends and then having to live in a foreign culture with a foreign language you don't know? So cold. So cruel. So Germanic.
  What's Worse?
  An agency of the corrupt and hostile to the USA United Nations has just passed a treaty giving governments ( as if they had to ask ) new powers to close access to the Internet to their own people. Russia and China were behind passing the treaty, and the vote caught the U.S. government officials by surprise. After Benghazi, a lot of that seems to be going around our pampered, lazy government officials when it comes to people outside of America, but it's a totally different story when it comes to whomping down on Americans. Why then  it's three felonies a day prosecuted even if you know the people are innocent. Countries like Russia and China now have the U.N.'s blessing to survey Internet traffice and persecute nonconformity.
 I've had my fill. Hope you have too.  Peter Nickerson

Is Verizon Trying to Steal Bigfooter's $400 Chapter 3

 I then said to Angie, "I have been advised (by my brother, Big Dog) to ask for a tracking number."
  "We don't provide that here, sir," Angie responded, "You'll have to call the finance department to get that."
  She gave me the number, but before I hanged up, I asked for the store's mailing address so I could send a confirmatory letter to her manager. After getting that, I called the Verizon finance department, getting Phyllis
I asked her for a tracking number for my $400 check, and Phyllis immediately got strident askeying,"Who told you that? We don't provide tracking numbers, and whoever told you so should know better. Who told you that?" I told her, remarking that she seemed to be a straight- shooter, and asking that she call me back. She assured me that she would, and we said good-bye. I never heard from straight-shooter Phyllis. I need to get the confirmatory letter out and see if that gets me my check sooner than 30 days. Peter Nickerson 352-359-0850.

Is Verizon Trying To Steal Bigfooter's $400 ? Chapter 2

  After I made the last post, I called the Verizon store manager, Chris Pagano. He had left a message saying he got to his stoe at 7 a.m. and had began working on getting my money back. Now he had a few things to tell me. I was told that Chris was out of the office, but a woman who identified herself as the assistant manager asked me if she could help me. I told her Chris and I were working on trying to get my $400 back from Verizon, that I was blogging about it, and would like Chris to read my blog. These are not exact quotes but close: The woman responded, "I have never heard of such a thing. This isn't a threat is it? If it is, it's out of my hands." I thought that it could be said that I had threatened Verizon with taking them to court, but I wasn't  going to say that to this woman who sounded very tense. I said noting beyond reiterating that I would like Chris to read my blog, thanked her, and hanged up.
  Friday I had to babysit the dogs out at Seal's and on the over one hour run into Gainesville for a doctor's appointment, I called and asked for Chris. Again, I was told he was out of the office but expected to be back in about an hour. I pondered that thinking about how long my doctor's appointment might last and decided to call back and see if Mike could tell me anything. I was told he wasn't available either and would call me "if he can." A salesman will call me "if he can?" That was a new one! I eventually got to the doctor's office, waited for about an hour so decided to call Chris Pagano back. Mike hadn't called me back. A man told me that Chris wasn't there, but he had left a message with his assistant manager Angela that she could tell me I would get my $400 back in seven to ten days. I responded, " I would like to hear that from Angela. Can she talk to me?"
  "Of course," he replied.
  Soon a woman's voice said, "Hello, this is Angie."
  Wanting to be sure we were on the right page, I asked, "Are you Angela?"
  "Excuse me?"
  "Are you Angela?"
  "Sir, that is private information I don't feel comfortable sharing with you."
  Your name is private information now? How convenient. Make up a name, have a complaint, call Verizon, they ask who waited on you, you tell them the made-up name, and they say, "We don't have a person by that name working here, sir." What a scam if this Verizon policy. They can deny anything.
  "Are you the assistant manager then?"
  "Yes."
  I identified myself and reiterated that I wanted my $400 back.
  "Yes, sir. You will get a check in a month."
  " A month? I was just told I would have the check in seven to ten days."
  " I was adding weekends and holidays to the seven to ten days."
  My old brain tried to visualize how there could be enough weekends and holidays in seven to ten working days to make a month. It was too much for it to handle, and I was unable to respond to what is now clearly an inanity.
  Let me make an observation here. In my wxperiences of blowing the whistle, I've learned that people don't take the honorable route and say, "You're right. Let's work together to set this straight. Instead, they come after you, hitting you with false charges. Again in my experience, these false charges are patently stupid and contrived, but you get overwhelmed by the viciousness and mendacity of the attack. I know I may be on dangerous ground with a billion-dollar corporation and its sales people. Salesmen are hardly celebrated for their honor. However, I cannot just walk away from my $400 because I'm afraid. I need to win this fight for my own peace of mind and self-esteem. I've lost too many. I've also discovered in the past year that while I am fighting, I am consumed with the struggle and don't have the painful, endless ruminations about battles I've lost especially the ones I've hardly shown up for. Peter

Is Verizon Trying To Steal Bigfooter's $400 Deposit?

  About two weeks ago, I went to my local Verizon agent in Alachua, Florida to break my phone out from Bulletproof's ownership. I wanted to be on my own as the combination of other phones and their charges commingled with mine were hard to understand. However, the small town Verizon agent said that over the weekend a new policy had been instiuted to have only city offices handle what I wanted to do as a deposit was going to be necessary, and Horizon wanted to manage its money more carefully. That explanation would become rich in irony very quickly. I was given two locations in Gainesville, Florida, and I left for one of them immediately.
  Upon arriving at the brand-new office near the Oaks Mall in Gainesville, I was struck by something that seemed off-key: There was no place for anyone to sit in the large room but an upholstered bench. It was as if you were at a cocktail party. Later my suspicion grew that chairs were not provided so the customer would not sit and ask too many questions, but drag his weary feet out of the office to the relative comfort of his car. It was not a customer-friendly store, especially for senior citizens. My salesman was Mike Freeney, a burly black man with a very quiet, gentle manner. He ascertained that I would have to make a $400 deposit, the maximum. I was prepared for this because I had learned this from my Verizon agent in small town Alachua several days before. It was no surprise that my credit rating sucked. My monthle income is only $905 from Social Security. I live close to the bone: no heat or airconditioning, no television, no internet.
I have medical bills I haven't paid for, hence the low credit score. I used my debit card to pay the $400 deposit. Mike took my card and called the numbers in and gave me a receipt, but for some reason the amount did not show on the Verizon screen. Where was it then? First Mike said it would only take a few minutes for it to appear so I shuffled over to the bench to rest my aching feet. About an hour passed, and still my $400 did not appear.
Finally, he suggested I go home, and give it two or three days to show up. I did that, but it didn't show up. Calls to him and his supervisor revealed that for some reason Verizon was going to refund my money. That was not what I wanted. I wanted it to be my deposit so I could own my phone instead of Bulletproof owning it.Mike  agreed that I hadn't come into his store to make a deposit and have it refunded. He said he would try to change that. I also called 1-800-249 -2462 customer service number later. The agent heard my story and handed me over to another agent who said that Verizon had decided to refund my deposit and I would get a check "in four or five days." By now this was becoming so queer (not in the gay sense) that I decided getting my $400 back was a good idea. But I reminded the agent too that I hadn't walked into their store simply to give them $400 and get $400 back. She agreed and said she start the process over again and get it right. I wasn't about to give them $400 when they still had my first $400. I thanked her and said I'd wait till I got my money back and walk back into the store and start the whole process over. That was last Thursday or Friday. Last night I checked my mailbox at 9:30 and found a letter from Verizon. It looked a little slim to be a check so I opened it apprehensively. It was a letter with a letterhead saying "Verizon." It informed me that since I had such a low credit score -it listed the score- I would have to make a $400 deposit to open an account! As soon as I got inside the house, I phone Mike's manager, the manager of the store, Chris Pagado. I was furious. I said something to the effect that I was tired of getting nothing but "shit." He asked me not to swear at him. I said I was not swearing at him: I had said I was tired of the "crap," not that he was "crap." He said he would get back to me the next day, and I countered by saying I expected him to.
  Today I called the number at the bottom of the Verizon letter I got last night. The agent who answered was curt and authoritative sounding . He said his company was a credit restoration company and not part of Verizon. I noted that the letterhead of his company read "Verizon." By way of explanation, he just repeated himself.I think the real explanation is that Verizon sold his company my name as a referral so the company could disguise itself as Verizon to give it credibility and engage me in a credit building adventure - for a good fee, of course. I feel betrayed by Verizon. They had no business giving my name and credit score to another company. I think my civil rights have been compromised and that this may be actionable. As poor as I am, about the only thing I have is my dignity, and that has been lessened by Verizon. I feel like a piece of meat that Verizon can take $400 away from and then refer me to other companies for a profit to see if those companies can make a profit out of me too. Verizon knows they are treating me badly but their only response has to been to treat me worse. Today I called the 1-80249-2462 customer service  number of theirs that I gave before. I had to give my phone number and the repeated response was the robot saying they could not "locate" my "message." I was given another number to call which turned out to be the payments number. There the robot simply asked how much money was I paying.  As the song says: "Kick you when you're down; kick you all around."

News - What's Better?

1. Michigan has passed a bill giving the individual the choice of whether he wants to belong to a union or not. No longer will individuals be forced to join a union in Michigan or pay a yearly fine. This represents more freedom for the individual worker in Michigan. Yes, pay in right-to- work states is about ten percent less than union states, but employment in right-to-work states is ten percent higher. More jobs at less pay. Plus, employers prefer non-union states so more jobs will go there.
2. Susan Rice has withdrawn from being considered for the office of Secretary of State. Ms. Rice has shown marked ineptness in dealing with various African nations. She is also the spokeswoman for the administration involved in lying about who attacked the consulate in Benghazi, Libya and why. Why did Susan Rice, a mere ambassador to the corrupt and hostile United Nations make that announcement and not Hillary Clinton, the Secretary of State, when the State Department supervises our consulates and embassies? Because Hillary Clinton knew the administration was lying - it had seen the attack in real time, thanks to a drone- and she did not want to be tagged with lying when she hopes to be the next president of the United States. Lying does make a difference. Obama received less votes in every state but Hawaii and Mississippi this time, and in those two states, he had less than a one percent increase in votes. Why did the Obama administration lie about Benghazi? Because it was corrupt in three ways: First, it had not provided adequate protection to the consulate in the first place. The ambassador knew it and was writing about it in his diary.Secondly, when the consulate was under attack, the Obama administration did nothing except tell a general who wanted to send in Seals and other military personnel stat to stand down. Thirdly, Obama did not want his lie that terrorism is too weak now to worry about to fly into his face on the eve of the presidential elections. So the attackers were just demonstrators who got carried away, not terrorists. It was September 11, folks. What do you think they would be? How Obama insults your intelligence, Obama-lovers, and you don't even realize it. Now we have Hillary making Benghazi-like excuses for not testifying before Congress about the Benghazi massacre of our ambassador, a computer expert, and two heroic Seals (that's redundant because all Seals are heroic just to become Seals). For two days, the excuse is she's sick to her stomach and after that, lo and behold, we find out she's suffered a fall and has a concussion. The same pattern of loopy statements cost Susan Rice the Secretary of State position. Hillary had better be careful about playing loose with the public too, if she is doing that. On the other hand, she and I are the same age, and I just took a severe fall that bruised my ribs. And I work out a lot more than Hillary does. So she could have fallen. But just tell the truth the first time! To sum up, havilng Susan Rice out of the run for Secretary of State is better, much better, than having her in. Pete Nickerson

Bigfoot Hunt #4 Continued

  I pulled off the road to take a call from my brother Big Dog. I learned that he had recently made a cup of coffee for the ride to a restaurant for breakfast. He was driving past a development on his left and woods on his right enjoying his cup of coffee when a four point buck ran out of a yard right into his truck. Big Dog said the buck hit his side mirror with his eyes only inches from his. He thought the deer was coming in through the side window. Howver he didn't, and Big Dog drove on looking for a place he could turn around in. From his rearview mirror could be seen the buck on his back with all four feet up in the air and Big Dog's mirror lying next to the deer. Big Dog was back in less than a minute but the buck and his mirror were gone. His friends joke that the deer took his mirror home and mounted it above his fireplace. Apparently, a good Samaritan from the development cleared the mirror off the road. Nature wars! As I was being told all this, an old man pulled up next to me. He had seen my magnetic sign on the back of the truck asking if anyone had seen a Bigfoot.The old man began telling me how he had a friend with feet thaaaat long, measuring with his hands. I was initially a little brusque with him. Couldn't he see I was on the phone? Then I realized he was even older than me, and I became more friendly. He made the joke I've heard ad nauseum, I obligily laughed, and he drove on. I continued my slow prowl through the woods, my truck in a quiet second gear. At a intersection, a gunshot boomed out, and I stopped, looking to see if anyone was running away. I saw nothing but next time will wait longer to see if the gunshot attracted a Bigfoot looking to steal whomever the hunter shot. An acquaintance in my Sunday school class told me that he had been seeing a bobcat by his deerstand for years. He enjoyed seeing the little cat and never shot at him. One day he shot a deer, who ran a ways, but audibly fell to the ground. The hunter got out of his tree and walked over to the deer to find his Bobcat friend standing on the dead deer as if to claim him. Of course, the little cat knew he couldn't defend his claim against a rifle so he skulked off.
  But nothing happened after the gunshot so I drove on. Soon a large squirrel bounded across the road, but it was too dim to see whether he was a fox squirrel.When I hit a paved road, I decided it was time to call it quits. I stopped at a tiny store nearby with no gas pumps and in talking to two men there, learned that "everyone"was getting his limits of speckled trout at night and that this run would last into January. There was immediate fishing fever, but I told myself I had to concentrate on finding Bigfoot. If you would be interested in coming with me on another hunt, please give me a call. We'll meet at a McDonald's or something and see if we could work together. I worry that you will get bored scanning the woods for hours but could use an extra pair of eyes. Pete Nickerson 352-359-0850

Bigfoot Hunt #4 Central Florida

  I reached the woods in Central Florida in the afternoon. As I listened to the radio on the drive in, the tragedy in Newtonville, Conneticutt grew from a mere report that several police cruisers were being seen at an elementary school to a massacre of twenty first-graders and seven women. I tried not to get bogged down with the agony around such an event, but instead concentrated on the task at hand. I was glad to find the dirt roads moist as that would hold tracks well. It had rained for several days, but there were still quite a bit of tire wear on the roads. I would find out later that the probable reason for that was a speckled trout run at a nearby lake that was connected to the St. Johns River. But the edges of the road were clean, and I looked there for tracks. I immediately began seeing deer tracks. Then I came upon a bear track with a much smaller companion track that I theorized was the cub bear. I got out and took pictures of the tracks.
Having drivern for about an hour without seeing another human being, I was happy to see a car approach me. I had driven by two houses deep in the woods, and this car must have been going to one of them. I was sure it was a local car because it was a rattletrap. The road has a distinct washboard pattern to it that would soon beat a car apart. I saw a marker for a historical site but couldn't walk to as I couldn't hoof the half mile to it due to a necrosis (dead area) in my knee. The primary vegetation of the woods seemed to sand pines, scrub oaks, and saw palmettoes. I kept an eye out for the threatened Florida Scrub Jay. I understand that they are even shier than the Blue Jay and are rarely seen except on wires. They also require scrub oak around eight feet tall as habitat. I drove in second gear, which is the most quiet gear and kept my head on a swivel, looking in all four directions, including behind me by the use of the rearview mirror. I came upon a lake and immediately saw an immature Bald Eagle flying over it. I drove out onto the dam where fishermen were pulling into and beginning to congregate. I asked an old woman if they caught any fish. She replied, "Yes, we caught speckled trout last night."There was quite a breeze coming off the lake and most everyone was bundled up in heavy, old, fishing clothes. The fishers were mainly serious, country people not fishing for sport but for food. And very good food at that! I spoke with a better dressed man wearing a U.S. Marine Corps (pronounced with a silent p, Commander-In-Chief Obama) and was informed that just minutes before he had passed about eight wild hogs on the other side of the dam. Thinking that I might get a picture of one and even that Bigfoot might be pushing them, I slowly, as was required, drove across the dam to the other side. The pigs were nowhere to be found. The area on this side of the dam was deemed a no hunting zone.This little area was a prime Bigfoot spot. Fish in the locks, hogs in the woods, and deer everywhere. There are numerous stories about Bigfoot being in the salmon runs right along with humans on the West Coast. Plus there are sightings of him crossing highways with a fish in one big hand.  To Be Continued, Pete Nickerson 352-359-0850 Anyone in the Alachua, Florida area interested in riding with me on Bigfoot hunts, please call me. I could use another pair of eye in the front seats.

Error & Dr. Ketchum Thoughts

The proper spelling for "Old Four Legs" as J.L.B. Smith referred to her is coelacanth. Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that any criticism of Dr. Ketchum's finding that Bigfoot is an ape-human hybrid would be purely emotional. When she makes such a statement, she either needs to have her findings published quickly in a journal or she needs to release quickly the paper that shows how she arrived at her startling conclusion . The Bigfooters have been dragged through enough scams. If she's lying, she deserves your and my vitriol. There's got to be some honor somewhere on this earth! Nobody's perfect, but everybody can't be a psychopath. Two-Guns. 352-359-0850

National Forest Rude To Bigfooter

Today I called the Ocala National Forest Visitor's Center. It is a rainy, weekday, and I was sure the visitor's center was not bursting with tourists. I wanted a list of trees and shrubs in the forest so the next time I blog about hunting Bigfoot, I would be able to say something more intelligent than " I saw lots of trees and shrubs in Ocala Forest.Duh."In my first call, I found out there were books available. I called a second time because I wanted to know what side of the Oklawaha River the center was on since I have the fear of going over the bridge there. The third time I called to see about shipping books to me. I also immediately apologized for calling three times, saying that I could only think of one thing at a time. In the discussion about shipping books, the worker said something like this : "You've called here three times and keep talking about trees and shrubs.He said it in an accusing manner, and next time I will ask, "Do you have a problem with that?" Instead, I hoped his ill will would go away and finished the discussion about shipping books. He was negative about that being done. I thanked him for his time and said good-bye. He hanged up without a word. Very unprofessional.
  This rudeness was on the heels of reading in the Journal last night that the Forestry Service in California is trying to drive an oyster company out of business simply because it doesn't like the business. It even presented a "study" purporting to show that the oyster boats were stirring up the water so much it was damaging  marine life. Somehow the company was able to ascertain that this was libel: the study came from New Jersey and it was about the effects of jet skis. The bullying of the National Forest staff has become so egregious that California Senator Feinstein has been moved to chastized the staff in a letter.This is significant because Senator Feinstein is a lover of Big Government which rules by force and violence. She is usually no friend of the sanctity and freedom of the individual. In this case she sided with the latter, so the abuse by National Forest had to be great. I am also happy to see that the oyster company is trying to sue the National Forest staff. I hope the business can sue and wins. If you as a Bigfooter or simply as a citizen had trouble with the National Forest people, I'd like to hear from you. I am hearing that National Forest is very anti-human and doing everything it can to keep people out of areas it designates as pristine.
When Bigfoot is finally recognized by the flat-earthers, we do not want unreasonable restrictions put on human access to National Forests. Call me, Two-Guns  352-359-0850

Bigfoot Hunt #3 Continued

This hunt took place in Ocala National Forest, about 400,000 acres in Central Florida. At dusk I saw a huge black area in the brush on the other side of a low-lying area. I was still on the perimeter of the Navy bombing range. Aware that Bigfoot will sit down with his back to you, apparently hoping you will think you are just looking at a black stump, I stopped the truck and put my glasses on the spot. It was just a black area. Disappointed, I proceeded down the sandy fire trail and immediately came upon an area that was black from a fire probably from a bomb. The black area behind me must have been a finger of that fire. I eventually hit a paved road, and as most of the traffic was going to the right, I did too.
I drove for miles without seeing any road signs until I read that I was in Altoona which is on the way to Eustis. Having gone into Ocala National Forest on the west side, I was now out of it, having come out of the southern end of the forest. I pulled off the road and consulted my maps. I was apparently on Route 19 going south, the wrong way. I turned around and finally got back on Route 40 and worked my way home. I passed a gray fox, standing off the side of the road, intelligently waiting for me to pass before he crossed. He had a white throat and smart black eyes. I got leg cramps and had to stop and rub horse liniment onto my legs. The hunt lasted from 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. To get into Ocala Forest, I had to cross a bridge over the Oklawaha River. I have a fear of heights and was very unhappy with the amount of fear I experienced going over the bridge especially in the daytime when I could see how high I was. If you have any Bigfoot sightings, please call me at 352-359-0850. Thanks, Two-Guns

Breaking News! Bigfoot Is A Human Hybrid !

 I need to interrupt my acount of Bigfoot Hunt #3 to recognize Dr. Melba Ketchum's finding as read at Huffington Post where the  force and violence of Big Government are respected rather than the sanctity and freedom of the individual. According to it, Dr. Ketchum has analyzed over 100 alleged Bigfoot samples over 5 years, and has found three nuclear genomes that suggest a male ape reproducing with a female homo sapiens about 15,000 years ago. One possibility is that Bigfoot is the nine-foot tall Gigantopithecus who supposedly went extinct 9,000 years ago. Dr. Ketchum says that specific tests have been run that rule out human contamination. As many of you probably know from reading the sightings, many hunters have not shot Bigfoot because there was a human quality about it. They were apparently right. This would also vindicate the many American Indian legends that say Bigfoot carried away Indian women and had children by them. There are also early Bigfoot investigators who stated that Indians had told them of personally knowing women carried away by Bigfoot and in some cases, returned to the Indian camps with children by Bigfoot. If Bigfoot also ate humans as the Indian legends claim, this new finding by Dr. Melba Ketchum means that they were engaged in cannibalism. Due to the emotionality and immaturity of the times plus science's great reluctance in accepting a new species or accepting the fact that a supposed extinct species is really still extant like the coleanacanth, a fish, I applaud Dr. Ketchum's honesty and courage in coming forward. Screw the noisy barbarians, Doctor! Maybe they'll grow up some day. Happy trails, Two-Guns

Turkey Scratchings At Jennings Forest

This fresh turkey scratching along with many more was right off one of the roads at Jennings State Forest just outside Jacksonville, Florida. Hunting is regulated in the forest, and as is obvious is very thin or turkeys wouldn't be scratching along one of the roads. All the Bigfoot reports I have seen have come from kids from neighboring homes and indicate herding efforts by Bigfoot. I hypothesize, based on my day at Jennings, that the sightings come from kids because there simply aren't that many adults in the forest.

Bigfoot Hunt #3 Ocala National Forest

  This hunt actually took place between the last two Bigfoot searches, and it started off well. I saw a dead coyote on the side of the road. I went back and looked at him. He had a beautiful, full coat just like that of a cottontail rabbit. I didn't think to take a picture. It was a very unusual coat. Even a creature as intelligent as the wily coyote, probably the third most intelligent animal in the woods after humans and Bigfoot, can't always deal with a four lane highway. In a little while, I saw a bald eagle, white tail and head, gliding down to the road just ahead of me and over a little knoll. As I pondered whether I should put on the emergency signal, I came over the knoll and there was the eagle right on the side of the road eating a dead opossum. I had to slow down to give him room to take off. I continued south until I found Route 40 which goes out of Ocala City through the Ocala Forest. It was neat seeing icons for bear on traffic signs. I finally found a fire road and got off the paved road probably much to the relief of the convoy of cursing drivers behind me. I was only going forty to fifty miles an hour, both trying to save my engine and because I have driven slow for such a long time that I don't like higher speeds. I first went to Honeymoon Lake and then wandered about the southern part of the forest. I saw quite a few hunters, but no one had a deer. It was a blustery, cool, damp day. Too windy to hold a scent for the dogs. I enjoyed seeing the hunting dogs in their boxes on the trucks. One had his head outside the box and was baying as if he were on a hot trail. The sound was exhilarating as I was raised with a kennel of beagles and loved hearing them run, recognizing whom the voices belonged to. I wandered upon a Navy bombing site. The signs not only warned to watch out for falling bombs, unexploded bombs, but also invisible lasers. I couldn't wait to get away from the bombing site, but it continued to be on my left side for a long time. I had apparently got on the perimeter road. The numbers of the roads did not correspond with the numbers on my map so I stopped using the map. As I drove, I noticed something that looked like a small snake although it seemed too cold for snakes to be out.
I straddled him with my tires as I drove over him and then got out. He slithered off the road and into the weeds. He was grayish-brown, very slender, and did not seem to have rattles. I immediately put on my supposedly snake-proof gaiters, called Snake Guardz, in case I did any walking around. A snake bite is very painful even if it's not fatal, and it leaves an ugly area on your skin as the bite contains enzymes that immediately begin digesting your flesh, basically. I also saw panther tracks about four inches wide and bear tracks. The very scientific Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission has decided by default to use you and me in our vehicles to keep down the number of bears. Can't allow hunting them with clean kills. Oh, no! That would upsed the satanic, yet very pesky, greenies. Don't want them mad at the Wildlife Commission.
 Contrasting with the many new 4x4 pickup trucks driven by hunters in their spiffy camouflage, I saw a battered, old truck with a little old man peering over the steering wheel. He had wild, white hair and beard and no camouflage clothing. In the back of the old truck was a single dog, a rotund hound who looked like she was his regular dining partner at home.I couldn't help thinking "God bless them" as they drove by.
To Be Continued. Two-Guns

Bigfoot Hunt #2 Continued

ERRORS:  In the last posting, I said that Route 470 went through Green Swamp in South Florida. That should have been Route 471. Also I misspelled the reflective lining in a cat's eye. It should have been
"tapetum lucidum."
  It finally came to me that the large, tall, gray creature that crossed 471 in front of me could have been a Bigfoot so I called QuietVoice in south Florida. He belonged to the Bigfoot Field Research Organization (BFRO) but now has his own research team. QuietVoice said that the color was okay for a Bigfoot, but he seemed to say that the gait on all fours was not indicative of one, saying they had a distinctive walk. Unfortunately, I did not ask him to tell me more. He also seemed disappointed when I told him that that the body did not go up in the front. He brought up the possiblity of a hog since they come in all sorts of colors and color combinations. QuietVoice said that several members of his team were in that area last weekend. Once while two of them, a married couple, were walking down a road, the wife looked behind her (woman's intuition) and saw that there were two tan panthers in the middle of the road looking at them. As soon as the humans turned around, the panthers rocketed into the woods. QuietVoice said, "There are panthers in almost every county but no one ( in government or the sciences) will admit it." He also said that Green Swamp was a good place to look for Bigfoot and there have been sightings. I related how one hunter had told me there were thousands of hogs in there, and QuietVoice added, "There's also turkeys and deer."
So there's plenty of meat available for the carnivores and omnivores.
  I attend a Promise Keepers group and really appreciate the socializing and the food. One of the men told me over dinner that the Conservation Commission had released three panthers in the High Springs area. He said that he or someone else had found this out when they found the field biologist using a wand to try to pick up their radio collar signals. The biologist supposedly said that two panthers were remaining in the area but one was following the Santa Fe River out of the area.  Another gentleman at dinner said that he had seen a panther in his yard when he drove in one night on his motorcycle. The panther was tan. I talked with a clerk in Gainesville who said that when they moved into their home in rural Hawthorne, part of Alachua County, Florida, within a month they had seen deer, a bear and a black panther on their road. Early this summer I got a sighting of a Bigfoot in Hawthorne. The lady almost bumped into him behind her home. It appeared that he had been peeping at her while she was inside the house. Her husband admitted she walked around nude a lot. I wonder if Bigfoot would make room for me. All this is only about twenty miles from the University of Florida in Gainesville, possibly better known as Trophy Town. Happy Trails to you, Two-Gun s

Bigfoot Hunt #2 Continued

 I worked my way through the three camping areas, going past numerous hunting camps. Down the road, I pulled over for a hunting truck since I was going slower, and as it passed by, it stopped. I asked the two hunters inside, "Have you seen Bigfoot?"  \
  "Yeah" was the unenthusiastic reply. and then one said they had dogs to catch, and they moved on. Then I encountered a hunter standing in front of his truck using his flashlight to try to find dogs. I stopped, and he explained, " We have a female out running a deer, and she won't come in." He was a young man, a big boy, and I asked him the question. He responded, "No, I haven't, sir."
  "There's been sightings in here," I said.
  "I know," he replied. He seemed lost in thought for a minute and then said, "You know they caught Bigfoot a couple of years ago."
   "They did? What's the story?"
   "They called him the Chinaman because he was Chinese. He lost his job and his home and started living in the woods. He grew long hair. You can research this. He started causing problems because he caught dogs, took off their collars, and ate them. The police finally caught him, put him in jail, but he escaped, and hasn't been seen since."
"Wow!" I remarked.
 We stayed in ackward silence for a bit until he said, "Well, I have to go look for that dog, sir."
  I thanked him for talking to me and drove on. After almost an hour of putting along, I came out to a field on my right and figured I was near Route 470 again. I encountered another dirt road on my left and shined the Maglite down the road at a height of 8 to 10 feet. I thought how absurd that would look to onlookers. Looking for a ten foot tall biped. Somewhat chastened, I shined my flashlight directly on the road. I picked up something that was a mottled brown and black. My batteries were running down for the light was much dimmer. Finally, I realized it was a house cat who was smelling something on the road. When she looked up to me, I got shiny lights reflected from her timpanem, I believe it's called. When I said something to her, she became alarmed and disappeared up the road. I didn't know this cat was a precursor to somebody much bigger. Soon I was back in civilization at Route 470. Relieved, I decided to turn around and check out what looked like a state game checking station. It was. There was a list of deer and hogs killed and their weights.
There were only about four each, a surprisingly low number. Without feeders to attract and hold deer and hogs, they are hard to find. Also, they don't eat and thrive as well. This was witnessed by the weights of the deer and hogs. Except for the first deer, a big one at 190 pounds, the rest were puny, all a little above 100 pounds. The hogs were thin too, also just a little over a 100 pounds. I found a game management phamplet and learned I was in the Richloam Game Management Area, The road I had taken was named Main Road and continued off the map into the next county. I had almost traveled into that county. I then called Hilda to let her know I was okay. Then I got onto 470. There was some traffic so I kept my low beams on as I drove through the rest of Green Swamp, south Florida. Suddenly, I saw somebody crossing the road to my side. It was gray, high, and very long. My first impression was that he was a panther. When he crossed to my side of the road, he started to go into the swamp, didn't like the spot, came my way a few feet, and then entered the swamp and was gone. I didn't see a tail but I didn't see a head either, and he had to have a head. It  happened so fast and I was so intent on watching that I didn't think to move my left hand a couple of inches and turn on the high beams. That would have shed a lot of light on the subject. I hope this does it for being stunned by seeing unusual animals. I don't want to be that way when I see Bigfoot. The animal seem to flow, his body didn't not show the movement that you would see in a deer or even a dog. It was much too long and big for a bobcat which has the body type of a cocker spaniel. The head of a deer is usually very conspicuous. I have, for sure, seen a Florida panther and a cougar. An acquaintance of mine had one of each together in a cage. I even brought them a deer killed on the road. It was so painful seeing those creatures in a small cage that I couldn't make myself visit them more than I did. It was viewing torture.I avoid zoos for the same reason.All I can say is that I think I saw a gray panther. I have collected over 500 sightings of panthers, mostly in Florida, and can recall only one being described as gray. But since we have a black morph, and you can be sure black morphs breed with the tan ones, it is reasonable to expect a gray panther to be produced. I didn't see Bigfoot, but it was a great night. This sighting was around midnight, and I got home at 3 a.m. Happy trails to you, Two-Guns.

Bigfoot Hunt #2 Green Swamp, South Florida

On Thanksgivng Day, I got to Green Swamp around 7 p.m and planned to go through the swamp, about thirty miles wide by way of Route 470. Green Swamp is just north of Tampa, Florida and very near, if not contiguous to Land  O'  Lakes, where, though or because it has recently become highly developed. there have been numerous Bigfoot sightings including a confused, possibly homeless, Bigfoot standing in the middle of the road with traffice stopped on both sides. Green Swamp is also rich in encounters and still very primitive. Going up 470, I saw a paved road marked 788 and turned in. The road lasted only a hundred yards or so ending at a big gate with a sign announcing a conservation center. There was a large building beyond the locked gate. I saw a dirt road going off to the left that went into the swamp. Soon I saw what looked like a game-checking shed on the right. I should have stopped to see if I could find a map but was eager to get on the with the hunt. I drove very slowly, about 10 mph, shining my 4 cell Maglite flashlight into side roads, openings, and watery areas. In two places on the road I found small trees and shrubs lying on the road and wondered if Bigfoot might have done that. I thought back to a recent story from Washington State about two boys on a fishing-camping trip seeing a Bigfoot across the creek they were fishing. The creature climbed a skinny tree and rode it down into the creek. Then he began wading the rest of the way toward the two boys. Terrified, the boys ran back to camp to tell their parents. Their parents informed the investigator that they had been to the creek earlier that day fishing and the there had been no tree in the creek. I passed three hunting campsites filled with hunters, camping trailers, canopys, tents, and trucks with dog boxes.You could hear the generators working.  Only one or two dogs bothered to bark as I drove by. I imagine the rest were exhausted and asleep. I was happy to see women hunters around the campfires as it projected a more civilized, family atmosphere. I soon lost my phone conversation with my daughter Hilda who had called me,concerned about where I was. I really didn't know except in Green Swamp somewhere. The road had turned from dust to mud as I got deeper into the swamp. I could see that the road was going downhill. The gas gauge showed half a tank, but it is not linear; the latter half goes much more quickly than the first half. I was able to stay in second instead of having to use the four wheel drive. Second was much quieter. Of course, I had both windows down so I could hear any noise though I knew Bigfoot was famous for thrusting his hand inside windows and fishing around with his huge hands.I made sure my filleting knife was on the passenger's seat. I remembered how I had heard hogs grunting and moving around in the Okeefenokee Swamp on the perimeter road years ago. I had stopped the vehicle and the hogs worked their way out to the road. Taking only my hiking stick out of the vehicle, I had stalked very close to them. I went as far as my nerves allowed, and they never saw me. Maybe Bigfoot would do the same though I didn't know if  I would find the nerve to approach him. I had driven twelve miles into the Green Swamp now. It had taken me over an hour. I didn't know where I was, and most importantly, I was unarmed. I turned around. I went back through the hunters' campsites, happy to see people. By now, most of the campfires were burned down, and the hunters were in their sleeping bags. In all the camps, there was only one campfire that still had a group of men sitting around it. I made sure to switch off my high beams as I passed through. Little did I know, the wildest part of my hunt was still to come. To Be Continued. You take care, Two-Guns.

Bigfoot Hunt at Jennings Forest, Notheast Florida #1

Several days ago, I drove up to Jennings Forest which is a state park. I took Long Road at the north end into the forest. The hunt did not begin well. I stopped a young woman on horseback, escorted by her Pit Bull and her Heeler. When I asked her about seeing a Bigfoot, she laughed and asked, " You mean there are Bigfoot here? Wait until I tell my husband?" Since her horse's tracks were almost everywhere I went, I wasn't overly optimistic that I would see Bigfoot. However, I was scanning diligently both sides of the forest and glassing some areas. Very few people do that, especially one on horseback with two dogs underfoot. Much of the area I covered was managed for quail which meant there was controlled burning. The palmettoes were only about two feet tall and there was no other underbrush. Of course, there was the omnipresent pine tree except that there were actually areas of deciduous trees. This is a rarity in Florida. The whole state, where there is open land, appears to be a pine plantation. I growled and prowled but saw only a vulture, two doves, and three deer. I flushed the deer at dusk and thought I saw two with one seeming to break down on the front legs when he ran. I hypothesized he was a shot deer. Wanting to be sure I saw two deer and not just one, I got out and walked into the open, deciduous woods. Just as I turned back to the truck, the deer panicked, burst out of their stationary mode, and ran. There were two. I found round, two inch wide tracks in the sand which could have been panther. Later, I walked upon two inch round tracks with two claws extended in clay. He could either have been a panther or a bobcat. Deer tracks were plentiful. I saw old hog rooting and brand-new turkey scratching right by the road. That was testimony to how lightly the park is used by vehicles. The park is open to hunting BUT by permit only. Even though it was the weekend, there was almost no one around. I only saw three trucks. This probably explains why all the Bigfoot sightings I've read about from Jennings have come from young people from neighboring homes. There are almost no adults around and almost no hunters to be bumping the Bigfoot. Jennings Forest is only 25,000 acres compared to Ocala Forest's 400, 000. Big difference. I talked to three hunters, and they did not relate any sightings or signs of Bigfoot. One hunted regularly at Osceola Forest (Swamp)  and had seen nothing there either. A good ole boy in a well-used truck with his fellow hunting companion told me that a friend of his had seen two Bigfoot in the Chiefland, Florida area and got angry when he wasn't believed. He had an aunt in the Perry, Florida area who had driven by the Aucilla River in her daily commute as a nurse and seen a Bigfoot. She was so traumatized by the sighting that she takes an alternate route to work. A friend of his took an 18 day campting trip to northern California, prime Bigfoot country, and climbed a mountain one day. In doing that, he heard a unique growl-howl that had to be Mr. Bigfoot. The two good ole boys went on ,and at dusk I heard a shot from their area. They looked like woodsmen. That was the only shot I heard all day. Please report your sightings to me. 352-359-0850  Thanks, Two-Guns.

Bulletproof Battles To Save La-La's Eye

  First, a word to honor the death of Iranian blogger, Satar Behesti, 35 years old. He was taken into custody by Iran's cyberpolice, the FTA, and beaten to death last Tuesday by the police. He wrote posts critical of the Iranian government and had only ten followers. But that was enough for the hateful fundamental Islamists to consign him to torture to the death. When will Islamists realize that the love is found in Christianity? Its paramount commandment according to Jesus is to love God and your neighbor as much as you love yourself. Doing the loving thing is the road to peace. I only hope Satar's family and friend tried to impress upon him the danger of criticism in such a criminal government. That probably would have been the most loving thing to do for him if they couldn't offer him the means to get out of Iran.
  La-La, a crazy rescued horse, picked up a cut in her eye, possibly from a branch across the fence or even by rubbing it herself. At any rate, it is infected. Horses cannot take anti-infections on a long term basis as humans and dogs can. Thus, the clock is running. In addition, an ulcer or summer infection from flies was found on her inner eye. This ulcer now must be treated first. The vet is not optimistic. If necessary, he will take the eye with the horse standing and then sew her socket shut.
  On a happier note, I was walking down to my feeding station in the woods today and jumped a small yearling deer. She was bedded down in the weeds of my overgrown archery range and was so panicked that she stumbled when she got up and ran off as quickly as possible. She ran close close to the ground and  almost looked like a rabbit.  I hypothesized that she was lieing close to the feeding station to get to the corn first. I also have a  Rack Rock there to attract deer, supposedly giant bucks with huge antlers that will fulfill any trophy hunter's dreams. The rock contains attractants and healthy minerals for deer. I retraced my steps and found a young gopher turtle lying on his carapace or back. Tuk-Tuk, the yellow lab, must have nosed him over. The disturbing thing is that I apparently had walked over the turtle on the way to the feeding station without seeing him. Not a good thing to be doing on a warm day in Florida, home to many dangerous snakes. Careful trails, Two-Guns

Dangerous Situation Looking For Bigfoot

  I was over by the Gulf of Mexico checking out a Bigfoot feeding pit when I had to drive by a group of young men on a back road. They weren't quite as tall as me or as big, but there were many of them. As I started to drive by, I saw that they had stretched something across the road in front of me. As my vehicle went into it, and the group wasn't showing any weapons, I chanced getting out of my truck to see what the guys had stretched across my truck. As I got out, I tried to discreetly put my right hand into my pant pocket to see if I had a knife there. Immediately one of the young men began addressing me as "
Sir" and saying everything was all right. I returned the "Sir" and saw that the material used was just yarrn. I got back into the truck and drove on, thankful I wasn't the recipient of a, how do you say it?, Jovan Martin moment. I found the pit but there was no sign Bigfoot was coming in or any sign of anything being dumped lately. Just wait for hunting season.Happy trails, Two-Guns

Cowboy And Rooster, Continued

I conclude that not taking antidepressants for the past two days had made me weepy, but I worried, of course, about the next time. It is obvious that all these deaths - about twenty- are wearing Bulletproof out.
They could be doing the same to me. It is wonderful that she provides thirty dogs, mostly rescues, a life-time of good care, but it entails a financial and emotional commitment that may yet be impossible to bear. I've told you of the house payments that go unpaid so the dogs can get care. The same goes for dental care. Both Bulletproof and I have holes in our mouths because the money can not go to dental care for prosthetic teeth. Life for most of us is living with scarce resources that have althernate uses.
  In addition, I feel a disconnect with our children. All their lives, Bulletproof stressed the importance of appearances, while my tiny voice in the family stressed character. You can guess what the children learned. Now in her love for the dogs and much more limited resources that what she had when she started taking in the thirty dogs, Bulletproof has done a 180 degree turn. She gives up appearances for character - undying devotion to helpless animals. Our children are self-indulgent. They have and do many things we parents never had. For example, Hawkeye has two boats that work. When I was employed, I tried but only once got a boat in the water and had it work. It was something I was always working on to get fixed, but I could never quite make it. I am happy for my children's prosperity and seeing that they are doing beter than their parents.
But there's more to life than opening your mouth and consuming as much as possible. Our grandson, Could Be, is four years old. He should know where his grandmother lives. Even if his mother Hilda and Bulletproof think he would be overwhelmed by twenty dogs inside the house, he can still  stay outside and see the dogs, horses and billygoat from the fences. Bulletproof can bring out leashed dogs and tell Could Be their stories. The boy's in school. What happens if everyone is going to grandmother's for Thanksgiving, and he's asked if he going to his grandmother's? If he says he's not because his grandmother lives an impossible two hours away, and he's never been there, the other students and staff may think there's something odd going on. It's always been a part of our family legend how I , at age two,stood on the hump on the front seat floor for almost the entire 12 hour trip to my grandmother's house from Virginia to Massachusetts. I supposedly was helping Rooster (my father) scout the way. I think that our children are slowly getting the message that materialism is only half the story. Both have two dogs and think the world of them. More importantly, they take very good care of them. Hilda has a 110 pound African Ridgeback puppy who is completely out-of-place in their house and small lot on the side of a golf course. But Hilda takes her over to a dog park almost every day where the Ridgie can run without a leash. Hawkeye has two Labrador Retriever rescues. One is on his way to becoming a legendary Florida duck dog. I asked Bulletproof if Hawkeye still used the  expression "they're only dogs." Her reply was, "Oh no." There's progress being made and it needs to include that little boy knowing where his grandmother lives and meeting the dog, horses, and billygoat she devotes her life to. Grandmothers don't live forever. We certainly know that about dogs! Take Care, Two-Guns.

Cowboy And Rooster, Continued

  I got a call from Seal. They were going to put Cowboy down. I told him not to wait for me, but to stop his suffering as soon as possible. I walked back to the vets' and went inside. But I couldn't make myself go through the door. I walked around the lobby once and then went through the door. Cowboy was immediately in front of me on the little stretcher, and the doctor was giving him the sedative and then the kill shot. I laid my hand on him. I thought I saw him open his eyes momentarily. Then the doctor put away her stethoscope, quietly saying, "He's gone." I broke again and left the room. Another vet was on the floor with a dog and his owners discussing what would have to be done for the dog. I went right through them without an "excuse me" because I didn't think I could get the words out. Not yet realizing that being without Paxil for at least two days was why I was breaking down, I searched for a reason. Several years ago, I had visited Page, our little rat terrier we rescued one cold January night near the New River, Florida. After we had raised her for several years, she and several other dogs were bitten by a timber rattlesnake. They killed the snake, but one dog did not survive his bite. Page was bitten in the chest, and when I visited her at the vets, she was so swollen from the snake's toxins that her eyes were shut. I stayed with her a while, talking to her, and when I left I had tears in my eyes. But why so emotional today with Cowboy?
  I had first seen dogs dying when Katey, our young Irish Setter, was poisoned when I was a young boy. My father, mother, and I stood and watched as she went through convulsions and eventually died. I was too young then to know that my cheap father should have been calling the vet and taking her in. By the time I was eleven, I had finally talked my father into allowing me to have a beagle puppy. We had a kennel of beagles. However, he brought a new dog into our kennel who turned out to have distemper. My father, not wanting to spend money on shots, had left our dogs unprotected. I think my puppy was the first dog who got the distemper. I found him lying in the kennel, having convulsions. My father gave me a lead pipe and said to kill him. He had to be put out of his misery. Again, he wasn't going to waste any precious money taking my puppy to the vet's and having him do it humanely. Instead, at eleven years old, I had to bludgeon my puppy to death. Why didn't my father, supposedly the adult in the house, do it? Who knows?
I think he didn't care about the psychological trauma to me. I think he wanted to see if I could handle it and was secretly disappointed when I could without him physically forcing me to. He'd rather use the lead pipe on me. Soon my puppy's mother and other beagles were lieing on the ground, barely alive. I had to kill and bury them too. - To Be Continued.  Be of good cheer. There is a heaven. Earth is just a bloody place to work on improving our character or helping others to do so. Two-Guns

Cowboy And Rooster

  Saturday, I felt guilty about listening to the beginning of the Florida-South Carolina game and made myself read a little before returning to it. As I read Monica Crowley's "What The (Bleep) Just Happened Here?"
I wondered why I hadn't fallen to sleep until dawn. Was it just the coke? Then I started feeling overwhelmed by the evilness of Barack Obama - the misery of collectivism for you and me but not for his family, friends, and him. They'll enjoy being the millionaires they publicly demonize to the stupid masses. Contrary to Monica Crowley's upbeat writing, I felt that the good were just too emotionally weak to overcome the strengths of the evil and the stupidity and avarice of the jackasses who vote for the evil. Wow! Why was I so down? Later, I would realize that I hadn't taken my Paxil for two days, at least. I was taking it first thing in the morning with my high blood pressure pill, but had changed my routine. Consequently, I was forgetting the pills. Just as I was about to go back to the game, Bulletproof called. Cowboy was very ill, and they were on the way to the vets. Cowboy was about a ten year old yellow-white lab we had raised from a baby. I shaved, showered, batten down all the hatches and hurried out. I found Bulletproof and Seal in the examining room.  The doctor was filling them in on the details from her examination of Cowboy. I worry that Bulletproof prolongs the dogs' lives so I asked the main question, as far as I was concerned, "Is he in pain?"
  "Some. He was moaning just a few minutes ago." I immediatley said, "Then he needs to be put to sleep." Seal agreed with me. "Just hold on a minute!" Bulletproof yelled at me. Later she apologizzed twice for that. "Not so fast! I just lost Tessa!" Tessa was Cowboy's mother. Bulletproof broke down sobbing, " Life is so unfair. There is no God!" When she regained her compusure, the doctor said, "His stomach is full of new blood and using (some kind of instrument) I was able to see that his spleen had ruptured from cancer." Then she began, albeit unenthusiastically, saying what could be done. Still, she shaked her head no. It was obvious Cowboy was at the end of his ride. "Would you like to see him now, " she asked. Of course. She left and then wheeled Cowboy in on a little stretcher. He was conscious but very weak. He didn't even raise his head. As soon as I petted him, I began falling apart. I didn't want anyone to see me that way so I left the vets' building and started walking down the street trying to stop crying. It seemed that everyone I saw was either walking a dog or standing near their dog in their yards. I pitied the hell they would go through as dogs are so short-lived. To Be Continued, Two-Guns.

Three Black Pumas and One Bigfoot

Getting out in the field recently, I talked with an older gentleman who worked as a mechanic's helper repairing automobiles. The place he worked was in a very rural area so I asked him about seing black panthers. He had seen three in his life, all crossing roads in North Central Florida toward the Gulf of Mexico. He said one panther crossed the road at a tremendous speed. They were all-black. He had not seen or heard of a Bigfoot sighting.
  In addition, I was talking to a Bigfoot friend, Quiet Voice, in South Florida. He had received a sighting by a woman riding her horse in the jungle-woods. She saw a Bigfoot standing in the trail ahead of her. Her horse saw him too and began spinning, trying to avoid going any closer. After the first spin, the Bigfoot walked off the trail and disappeared into the jungle. Quiet Voice got into the area, but before he got to the place of the sighting, he was in water up to his chest. He turned back. You not only have to worry about quick mud, alligators, and cottonmouths in the water in South Florida, but now seventeen foot pythons. You wouldn't win against a python that long unless you could get to a fixed blade knife and start cutting before he wrapped you up. It's been an unusually rainy summer in Florida. The good news is that the lakes are beginning to fill back up and boats can get into them for fishing.
  I listened to a recording of a Bigfoot near A.P. Hill, Virginia walking through the woods at night. The tape recorder was left there unattended. This recording was at the Bigfoot Field Research Organization's website. You could clearly hear him tramping by. It was a huge noise and what struck me is that he never missed a beat. If you or I were walking through the woods at night, we would be faltering and stumbling. Not this Bigfoot. I couldn't help wondering if I would have the nerve to stay by that tape recorder even if I had an elephant gun. It was obvious that he owned the woods. If you or your friends have any sightings of either black pumas or Bigfoot, please call me at 352-359-0850. Thanks, Two-Guns.

Obama's First Step In Fencing Us In

  So Obama has gone from stopping the rise of the oceans and healing the earth to wanting to deny companies that go overseas their moving deductions on their taxes. Now that's really attempting to solve the offshore problem! Why are companies moving out of America? First, you have the corporate tax rate of 35 percent, only the highest in the world. Then you have the Obama- kiss- of- death: the number and rate of federal regulations have increased so greatly under ObamaDestruction that the founder of Microsoft, I believe it was, came out the other day and said he couldn't have begun the company under the present anti-business regulations. So what is Obama's solution for this: Deny companies their tax deductions in moving if they are leaving America . You heard it Tuesday night in the town hall quasi-debate with Mitt Romney. So now we are going to penalize companies, which are nothing more than groups of individuals, if they want to leave America. Do you see the first step toward a fence that will keep people from getting out of Absurdistan? I do. Of course, it will be a fence only for the productive companies and individuals. We must keep them in America to feed off them like parasites using the taxation system. But if you want to get into America to live here illegally or even to blow us up with suitcase nuclear bombs, why that fence doesn't exist for you. Pass on through!  There's a kiosk with free food and drink and applications for the all the entitlements  right there, courtesy of the productive shmucks who don't have the courage and determination to try to stop the craziness. Right now, Obama's hoping to fence in companies. You will be next. Best wishes, Two-Guns

Romney, Growl Back At Jackass!

  Congratulations, Romney. You scored a knockout in the first fight. I hope you have enjoyed the victory while you could because the second fight is Tuesday. Biden in his fight with Ryan has telegraphed some of the punches Jackass may try on you. At least twice, Biden told Ryan forcefully that the news the White House gave out was based on intelligence reports and was modified as the intelligence reports were modified.
Biden did not challenge that, partially, I think, becuase he was snookered by Biden's macho, low, forceful voice. Don't you be with Jackass. Expect his voice to have all of the above with a bit of malevolence in it to intimidate you. Don't be. Any man who doesn't want to provide aid to babies born in spite of an abortion attempt being done on them is not a man. Not an Ameican man. I know more forceful men than he. Men who have gone to war not to the golf course and parties. To gear myself up to meet their authority and to pick up anything that might not be true, I visualize a large turd of bullshit coming out of their mouth. Then I look for that turd as they talk. When I see it, I confront it. These are men man enough to admit a mistake or exaggeration. They haven't hurt me, and Obama is not going to hurt you. He'll just get slack-faced. Go into the fight knowing you are going to see  large turds  of bullsit coming out of his mouth and know that you are going to confront each turd. But you must sound different than Ryan. Ryan sounded like a yippy little dog trying to bay up the old boar. All Biden had to do was growl, and the emotional impression was that Biden ruled the room. You don't want that. All your true adult-to-adult confrontations, which again you must do, will mean nothing if they are said in a yippy voice. We are emotional animals, Romney. Increasingly so
with the social conditioning of public schools. You have to speak in a low, masculine, macho, grave voice at Jackass. Your growl has to be more authoritative than his. With what, four sons, there has to have been times when you have had to assume that voice with them to put an end to the arguements that would go forever otherwise. You must growl back when Jackass growls at you. You must make a point of it because he already has a lower voice than you. Concentrate. If you yip when he gowls, he's top dog, and you're a little hot dog. And America's toast for another four years. Good luck. Come out swinging and never, ever stop as long as he's standing. There's too much weighing on your victory. We need another knockout.  I'll be rooting for you. Two-Guns.
P.S. Jackass may try what Biden did on Ryan: told Ryan, he was sick of the two of you (Ryan and Romney) downing America. Don't let him triangle you against Amerca. Tell him you are downing what he's doing to America. Then list them: six trillion dollar increase in our national debt, gas prices doubled, grocery store prices sky-rocketing, more people unemployed now than when he was elected. Of course, as you list the hell he is putting America through, you growl. No yipping! Be very aware of that because it will be the normal, unconscious reaction to his growl. He knows it so watch for it to come. Meet it as the lion, not the terrier.

Sick Or Injured Blue Jay

  I came home from posting at the library and thought I saw movement as I opened the gate at the lane. I walked over and there was a blue jay hiding by flattening himself under some tall grass. I wanted to give him a chance so I walked away and observed him scuttling away along the side of the garage. The next day, I went back and found his body. He had apparently been feeding where I put out bird seed, corn, and dog kibble. It's a very popular spot with the cardinals, the ground and mourning doves, and the blue jays. I took the jay and threw him onto the side of the lane where  opossums and feral cats roam at night. As soon as I did that, I remembered that the county's sentinel chickens had just picked up the West Nile virus. Worried that the jay died of that or some other avian flu, I compulsively washed my hands for a while. I could see nothing grossly wrong with the jay when I picked him up and wonder about the cause of his death. It is the first death I've seen at my feeding station which I have had for a few years.
  I waited a few days before discussing Tessa's death with Bulletproof. She admitted she had been hit extra hard by the death of this dog. When you have thirty dogs, death comes all too often. She thinks the cause of death was stomach cancer and says there are types of cancer that do not cause a high white blood count.
  If you or a friend has a bigfoot or black panther sighting,  please call me at 352-359-0850. Thanks, Two-Guns.

Critique of "Rainy Brain, Sunny Brain"

  Elaine Fox, author of "Rainy Day, Sunny Brain" (2012) oversold her book with the subtitle of " How To
Retrain Your Brain To Overcome Pessimism and Achieve a Positive Outlook." I was forewarned when she gushed about the the great hope and optimism brought by Obama's election and Nelson Mandela's presidency in South Africa. She omitted the facts that Obama has increased our national debt more than the "unpatriotic" amount Bush had increased the national debt and there are more people unemployed now than when Obama entered office. Likewise, she ommitted the fact that Mandela and his wife drove around to ranches owned by whites, saw the one they wanted, and had the owners, a white couple in their seventies, I  believe, booted out. Mandela spent 26 years in jail because of racism only to become a racist himself when he had control of the force and violence of the government.
  Suffering from several anxiety disorders and their attendant depression, I was hopeful that Elaine Fox was going to review the latest experiments and then give concrete exercises I could use to overcome anxiety and pessimism. Like Obama and Mandela, she gave only half the story - the psychological experiments which were very positive. However, I do not live in a psychology department of an university. How could I adapt these experiments for my use at home? This is what she should have answered and didn't. In not doing this, she didn't do what the book proclaimed it was going to do. Just as a bad piece of pie makes you forego any more of the pie, I now have doubts about the entire book. What a loss for fellow sufferers, Elaine Fox, and me! Two-Guns

Let Them Eat...Bark

  Have you read that North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un is expected to announce that farmers will no longer have to give all their crops to the state? Instead they will have a quota system, and anything left after meeting that quota the farmers can eat, barter, or sell. This new practice will mimic what the Red Chinese first did when they opened their failing economy to more emphasis on consumerism ( capitalism), moving away from the dreadful communism that caused the death by starvation of millions of people. Still suffering under pure communism, the North Koreans - except the military and of course the communist party members- have resorted to eating bark at times. As this communist dinosaur finally moves away from central planning and control in order to produce more food through more individual freedom from government, our jackass is pushing us into more of a planned economy with its proven failure. His lunacy is almost overwhelming. Yet the rabbits hop with glee because they have free cell phones. They are so ignorant, emotional, and undifferentiated that they don't realize that he is killing the American economy. All the jackass has to do is bray out some craziness, and because he is (half) black and a liberal Democrat, the rabbits go into spasms of ectasy. Homo sapiens is being challenged by home emotionalis. Homo emotionalis probably won't notice when he's eating bark. Yum, yum, Obama jerky! You take care. Stand up and speak out!
Two-Guns

Tessa Dies In Seal's Arms

 Tessa died in Seal's arms at 6:30 this morning. Bulletproof had taken her to the vets yesterday for bloodwork which showed nothing greatly wrong. Seal told me he thought it was stomach cancer, but I was sure the white blood count would be sky-high in that case. When Bulletproof, who is devastated by Tessa's death, can talk, I sure she'll make a post-mortem talk with the vets and try to find out what may have happened. Seal then brought up the possibility that she had just given up. Remember she couldn't walk for a year, and Seal had to carry her out to poop and pee. Acupuncture finally brought her back up, but after about a year of being able to walk around on her own, she was back down. Maybe she decided to give up the fight. I had noticed that she was less receptive to me and didn't even get excited when I told her we were going to MacDonalds. She loved their hamburgers and would bite your fingers with them if you weren't careful. Bulletproof acquired several cuts from her eagerness.  Lately, I noticed she had lost her extreme zest for the hamburgers, and it was no longer like feeding a starving alligator. She was a driven dog, just like her mother Jenny and her grandmother who was owned by one of Bulletproof's office mates in Virginia. All the work and expense - mortgages payments that didn't get paid- and it only buys you a year of recovery. But how can you remain human and not try? I hope and pray Americans haven't become so degenerate that they're ready for Obama's death panels. If so, it's been eagles to rabbits in one lifetime. You take care. Two-Guns

Obama So Vulnerable !

  Obama and the liberal media have made much of Romney's words about the other 47% as a primier example of Romney's lack of compassion. Now is the time to hit Obama back with the charge that his own lack of compassion was displayed on the floor of the Illlinois Senate in 2001, I believe, when he was the only Senator malevolent enough to speak against the Born-Alive Bill. What was happening was that children, American citizens I remind you, were being born alive after abortion attempts had failed to kill them. The procedure at various hospitals in Illinois was to ignore the babies until they died of thirst, hunger, hypothermia, whatever. Sometimes, they were placed in broom closets to die. Again, these are American citizens, people. As a child protective services worker and supervisor for nine years, I would like to know if public social services were contacted and if so, what was their response. I would like to know if any of these doctors, nurses, and other hospital workers had the compassion and guts to call the police. The calls could have been made anonymously even, and still it looks like no one had the conscience and courage to make the call. What was wrong with these people? And we slight the German people for baving allowed the extermination of about seven million people? When American medical doctors, the best of the best, allow the murder of infants to go unreported?These were no fetuses; these were born babies, American citizens. Several Born Alive Bills were introduced to make sure these babies were not neglected after they were born. Obama oppossed all of them. I have read the minutes of the Illilnois State Senate, and Obama spoke against one of the bills as getting  in the way of a mother's right to abortion.He even cowardly called the babies "unviable fetuses." Here they are, born babies, and this jackass is calling them "unviable fetuses." He was called on this lie, albeit oh so gently, by the patron of the bill, Peterson, I think he was. You know what Obama was doing. He was pursuing the pro-choice vote. He was going to guarantee that if a woman wanted to kill her fetus, it would be done. Even if doctors and nurses had to kill by neglect a born child to do it. I support pro-choice because I believe a woman has the right to her body. No government has the right to force someone to carry a child as long as the child is dependent on her. When the unborn child can live without his mother's assistance, and the mother no longer wants him, he should be delivered and put up for adoption. But I will bet you that these same women who can shout they have a right to their own bodies when it comes to abortion are perfectly content to have Mayor Bloomberg and whatever petty tyrants, freedom haters all, pop up to tell you what and how much you can eat. These women will allow the tyrants to use force and violence to enforce their laws too. Force or violence is a narcotic. The tyrants will need more force or violence exerted on you to get the same effect. You know how an addiction progresses. It works you, calling for more and more to get the same effect. These force and violence addicts will have to make more and more laws forcing you to do or not do more and more things to get the same high. Eventually, they will get around to abortions and make you grovel and beg on your knees before them to be able to have one.Your freedom of choice will be over.  I have gone aside for a moment to demonstrate to you that I am not an anti-abortionist trying to villify Obama. I am trying to show you that I am villifying murder. If Romney doesn't have the Moxie to point out Obama's complete lack of compassion for brand-new babies, I urge that some PAC do it on national TV.The Navy Seals certainly have all the courage required. Two-Guns.

Being a Political Guerilla

On the way to the library, I was nursing the Toyota 4-Runner along at 40 miles per hour. She's got 329 k miles on her, and I don't want her to die while I'm riding her. This little car pulls up behind me. There's a white guy in it, and he immediately begins acting like a hysterical woman, throwing his hands up into the air and looking sooo upset. It's a passing zone, and there are no vehicles coming. But this wuss is so interested in being a victim of my slow driving that he can't realize all he has to do is pass me. I decided to help the retard out by gesturing with one finger for him to go around me. Next time, I'm going to let him stay behind me and throw girlie caniptions until he strokes out. Have you noticed that women are looking more masculine than men? Go to a mall and see the women with boots on, skintight pants, and tops that accentuate their big breasts. They look like warrior-queens. With them, you see their boyfriends dragging along in sandals, shorts, and T-shirts. They look like pathetic, starving slaves the warrior-queens are exhibiting to show you what they can do to men.
  Now I'll tell you what I, a manly-looking man, of course, am doing as a political guerilla. It's a phrase I think I coined. I was looking for supplies ( virile for "grocery shopping") when I reached for some chicken broth to sweeten the dogs' kibble and water. I noticed that a woman was reaching for soup too and said to her, "Whew! Every time I come here every item has gone up twenty or thirty cents! And no one's mentioning inflation. You know where their heads are."
  "Unfortunately, I do," said the woman. She walked away. So that was it. Hit- make my point- and run. A political guerilla. Today, I set out an ambush. I stopped at a very busy gas station to put in more liquid gold. As I did that, I scotch-taped this sign to the pump: " Thank the jackass who has banned so much drilling for the prices." Hit and run. You've got to do the same if Romney, by far the better choice, is to win. You are the leaders of America, not the lying liberal press and not the politicians who will say and do anything to get elected so they can live like kings and queens off our taxes. Right off, the only exceptions to politicians not being leaders were Cicero, Churchill, FDR, and Reagan. West and Rubio, both from Florida, could join that list if they would be just a little more forceful. Florida sorely needs some men in its history worth looking up to. Exciting guerilla trails to you. Two-Guns.

Dangerous Democrat Called "Slaver"!

  I am sure you've had the almost overwhelming urge to kick someone in the ass. I had that moment on the way over here to the library to blog. I don't have the internet at home for fear of being back-loaded with child porn. But  on the way over, I noticed an older man with white hair straddling his truck tires over a big Eastern Painted Turtle. Why couldn't he had gotten out and put the turtle on the side of the road he was pointing to? I got out and got the turtle going off the road. He could have done that and still remained talking on his precious phone! He was probably old enough to remember when service stations in Florida would give you a free gopher turtle with every fill-up. You could take it home and fry it up! Yum, Yum.
  Now, I'll  tell you about my encounter with the Democrat. I had to stand in line behind a big man, big as me.He stared at me as I came up to the line, but didn't bother saying anything to me as an explanation for the gaping which put me in a negative attitude toward him. The danger of the staring stranger. Then he started telling the guy next to him about how the Republicans increased taxes. That put me into a foul mood as Republicans are traditionally against higher taxes and are always being attacked for that. Now, Reagan and Bush  did raise taxes, but only after the Democrats lied to them, saying if they raised taxes, the Demonrats would cut current spending. The two presidents were too trusting, especially Bush because they had already done this scam on Reagan. The two presidents raised taxes, but the lying liberals, of course, didn't keep their end of the deal and spending didn't decrease. It increased!
  So you understand my anger when I heard this big guy lieing about Republicans. Before I said anything, I wanted to ask a question. You see, I don't have television at home either and have to depend on the radio to try to keep up. I don't have TV because I wouldn't read if It did. TV is simply too easy, and maybe I'm not disciplined enough also. So I asked these two gentleman if Pastor Terry of Dove Outreach in nearby Gainesville had been arrested. So what did I hear? "No, but he should be!" "That man's crazy!"
   I repllied, "He has the right to be crazy.
   The big guy pompously said," You and I have some big differences, my friend."
   I replied, " Yeah I know, you're a slaver."
   "A slaver? What does that mean?"
   "You don't like freedom."
   "I like freedom!"
    I was getting angry, and I knew I was in a situation of two lieing liberals against my word and gee! the store camera somehow just didn't record the situation! I started for the door, saying as I left, "Yeah, freedom to...." and then I was gone. If I had stayed, I would have said, "Freedom to take things from people like their money and their freedom. That's the kind of freedom you slavers want!"
   I am trying to inspire you to do the same wherever you can.You saw how I went on the offense instead of the defense when the pompous guy said we had big differences. You need to do the same. The people are the leaders of this country.All the politicians are representatives. If we start showing guts out on the street, they will follow our example because they desperately want our votes so they can live like kings and queens. Show your guts and make them - Romney especially- show their guts. Go on the offense. You don't win the football game or the election by being on the defensive. The defense rarely scores any points. It's the offense that does. Go on it and show your guts!  Good talking to you, Two-Guns

Cops Needed To Control Blacks' Testosterones !

Blacks are disproportionately  involved in crime. Why is that? I do not think it is just because of the reasons given like poverty and discrimination, but something more. As far as discrimination goes, I see on the streets care and kindness being paid by the whites to blacks. The something more is testosterone level. Testosterones give the person bigger bones, bigger muscles, bigger genitals, a deeper voice, a greater sex drive, and a more masculine attitude. These are all attributes that blacks display to a much greater extent than whites generally. I heard an interview with a black who stated that blacks should only be taught by blacks because white teachers were not strong enough to discipline them. I think there is a lot of truth to that as far as public schools  (government social conditioning centers) are being run. I was a substitute school teacher and was amazed at the disorder in the halls and classrooms. I am not so sure that even a black teacher could keep order especially if the administration didn't support her. Plus, she has to worry about retribution such as having her vehicle in the parking lot damaged or being assaulted on the way to her vehicle. Short of having a cop in every classroom to enforce discipline, another method needs to be tried. I would suggest that the school cop be assigned to classrooms where the teacher is having trouble keeping control. Optimally, his assignment would only take a day as he would be empowered to remove all the out-of- control students with the teacher having veto power. The cop would have the right to appeal the teacher's veto to the principal. Those out-of-control students would go to a special needs class where they would be taught, if possible, and perhaps referred to other special needs classes when their individual problems are identified and refined.
  It is not fair that students who want to learn cannot. Looking at it with a global view, America is competing with many countries for a high standard of living. Whom do you find studying in the university libraries late on Saturday nights? Asians. Many of them are not Americans either. Where are the Americans? Getting drunk and sexed. Competition is simply reality as the resources of the world are scarce, and they have many alternative uses. That means there's not enough stuff to go around so everyone can have all the stuff they want or feel they need. If you want to have stuff, you have to compete for it . Or you can rob others as Obama is inclined to do. That route leads to a cliff you will go over when you inevitably find out there is no one left to rob. So the bettter way is to compete using your abilities and your work ethic to get you the things you want and maybe increase the wealth of America through an invention like computers or a wonder pill. Wealth is not static. Under freedom, it grows. Under collectivism, it dies. You're only going to get chump change from the government anyway. Asking white teachers with low testosterone levels to keep discipline in a class of high testosterone blacks who have little or no discipline at home is a fool's errand.
  I live in the Gainesville, Florida area where the controversial Christian ( anti-Muslim as he should be) minister preaches. I am reading letters to the editor asking that he and the producer of the film the Muslims don't like be put into jail. Now these have got to be people with no testosterones! I do not support giving up my right to free speech because it offends Sharia Muslims. America is not that cowardly nor that immoral. Obama, Clinton, and their like may be, but Americans are not. Happy trails, Two-Guns 

Bloodthirsty Blacks Head-Kicked Genius White!

  My sister has lived for about forty years in a little town with no violence. Now, her son gets knocked to the ground and kicked in the head. He is white, and they were black. For years, the town has had only two blacks, now there are about twenty, and there is this. As he was on the ground, he yelled at them, "What do you want? What do you want?" No answer, but apparently someone heard him because the police were there right after he ran away from them. My nephew is tall and slim and has this ability to lie on his back and spring up to his feet. He did this with his attackers, surprising them and getting away. My sister is upset that this kind of violence has happened in a previously safe town. This is the sister who was kidnapped by a black, taken to his home and raped. He was either insane or simple because she persuaded him to let her go, promising she'd be back for more. My anger about the incident is intensified knowing that my nephew Slim is a genius. Even as a little boy, he was picked to attend the Johns Hopkins' program for talented students to go to a college or university during the summer. Slim just got his master's in the autism field. Maybe he by himself or working with other talented people will find a better way to help the autistic. Just maybe that invention will make him a lot of money and increase the wealth of this nation just as the computer did. But here he is, getting that genius head kicked by three thugs.
  I saw Bulletproof ending  her five and a half mile run the other day. She runs in my extra-extra large T-shirts which come almost down to her knees. Nothing sexy about that. When I saw her, she was bent over with fatigue to such a degree that you couldn't see her face, only her sun visor. She looked about three feet tall and was running with much difficulty. Also, she kept  thrusting her right arm up into the air. I told the guy in the car with me that she looked like she was crazy person running and that might  might be a turn-off for rapists. I asked her later about thrusting her arm into the air, and she said she was keeping time to the music. Whatever gets a 65 year-older through almost a six mile run! But she did  have an episode recently that scared her. She said a man stopped twice, glaring at her and finally going on. Now she says she will get a gun. Follow-through is everything though. You might remember that before this she said she wouldn't even take bear spray with her. She hasn't gotten the gun yet but is taking a stun-baton with her. But a club can overcome that or even an good crescent kick can.
 Tessa, the yellow lab, is able to walk sometimes with a belt you get from veterinary supplies. The rest of the time, Seal and Bulletproof carry her. She's completely nonplussed with her setback. Bulletproof is letting me buy burgers for her at MacDonald's again. She needs treats now. A sweet little rescued dog I named Shady Lady because she is all black has a tumor on the front of her mouth. So what do you do? Pay to have it removed or pay the mortgage? Happy Trails, Two-Guns.

Chapter 5 Bigfoot Comes For Barbeque

  Before  embarking upon this story, our house being foreclosed on weighs heavily on me. Bulletproof  has informed me that she had told the mortgage (the mortgage is in her name) agent that she could not afford the payments that have increased over time from about $1,000 to $1,500. The agent asked her if she could make $1,100 payments. Apparently, Bulletproof couldn't do that because she just told me that the bank is not accepting any payments. She is hoping for re-financing, and I noticed she had a letter from Fannie Mae. All the money has gone to veterinary expenses. What else do you do when you consider dogs part of the family? I am sure that Seal will take in all twenty dogs if necessary.  Bulletproof deals with the stress by running five and a half miles every day and then immediately biking the same route. Pretty good for a 65 year-old woman, aye? I deal with it by curling a fifty pound dumbbell and believing that I am going to get a video of Bigfoot that will make me a millionaire. You say that instead of antidepressants, I should be taking anti-pychotics? You may be right. But let's continue with my delusions.
  I have just read that a Bigfoot was caught in the act of taking some barbecue cooking in a man's grill on his  back deck. He simply strode away when seen. This took place in Perth, Ontario, on a fishing lake. The next day the Sasquatch was seen by two men who were fishing. The Bigfoot, himself, was watching two men who were canoeing by. They had their backs to them and didn't see him. The woods are becoming very crowded, and I believe it is the reason Florida - the fourth most populated state- is having so many encounters. There's little land left compared to Old Florida, and  humans and the wild people are bumping into each other. This sighting reminded me of one I collected years ago.I talked to a woman who lived in a mobile home  in the sand dunes north-west of High Springs, Florida.There was a nearby creek - Cow Creek- that was in an area of much vegetation that continued to major hammocks on the Gulf Coast. This was access for a Bigfoot. The woman had been cooking barbecue ( a very popular dish in the Deep South)  all day. There was a delicious odor emanating, and the windows were open. Her trailer home was up on stilts, and she could see around  easily. Late that afternoon, she looked out the kitchen window, and there was a huge, hairy face staring at her. She said the wildman had to be at least eight feet tall to look into her window. He simply walked away when discovered. The next time you go camping near some big woods, why don't you cook some fragrant barbeque and see who unexpectedly comes to dinner? In the 60s, it was Sidney Poitier. Now it could be Bigfoot.

Chapter 4 Navy Seal Saves Lab

  Years ago, I was at one of my wife's office parties when her second-in-command asked me about my woods' name of "Two-Guns." I explained,"Two- Guns was my CB handle at my hunt club in Virginia." The woman was very quick, for she immediately replied, " If your name is Two-Guns, your wife's name is Bulletproof!" No truer words were ever spoken.
  Bulletproof is once again looking for a way to get Tessa, an older, yellow lab back on her feet. Her hips gave out about two years ago, and her paws turned in like fists. I didn't see any hope for Tessa, but Bulletproof ignored my pessimism and started taking her into Gainesville (Florida) for acupuncture treatements. She perservered with the treatments for nine months. Seal kept Tessa at his house. I had,
and still have, a necrosis - dead area- on my femur in the knee. I was on crutches, and Tessa was too heavy for Bulletproof to carry. Seal wasn't much better than me; his knees were busted up from parachuting with the old-school parachutes that you had no control over. Several times a day, he carried Tessa outside to pee and poop. You could hear his knees popping, and his face would turn red with pain, but of course he wouldn't say a word. Tessa never got depressed with the fact that she was helpless and couldn't move. She seemed to have an unquenchable drive. Whatever progress she made, she thrived on. But progress came months later. First, her paws relaxed and opened one after another. Then she began walking on her front feet. Her drive was so great that you could hold her up by her back legs, and she would walk with her two front feet. Finally, the back legs came back, and Seal could walk her outside by supporting her with a wide, cloth strap under her belly. This made life much easier for him and was something Bulletproof could do too.
Soon she was on her own and proudly tottering about. It wasn't pretty for her legs weren't straight and sometimes they weren't synchronized. She looked like she had been drinking but she got there. Sometimes, she missed  "there" by a few feet. Unphased, she simply reset and reached her destination.
  But now, after being independent for about a year, she is down again. Seal and his bad knees are being re-enlisted to carry her. Bulletproof is considering acupuncture again, but she is also looking into a vet who is having good results with stem cell therapy. The price, $1,800,  isn't that much different than a year of acupuncture treatments plus the cost of gas to get into Gainesville. If Tessa's stem-cell therapy is successful, Seal and I are going to go into that vet's office on our hands and knee! Bow-Wow!

My Story Chapter 3

Thank God and all the pagan ones too that September is here in Florida! This is the cooling-down month when termperatures will start to work themselves down to a delightful 60 degrees at night and day temperatures will be in the more bearable low 90s and high 80s.
  I finished my second heroic workout of lifting weights and shooting my bow for a solid four hours last night at nine. I do almost all my workout outside where I keep my dumbbells and other weights. It's too hot inside, and l love the outdoors.  After I complete three weight exercises and about 25 reps of ab work, I walk over to my bow and shoot about ten arrows at a clay pigeon. The pigeon is laid against a pile made up of layers of dirt and old rugs. If I hit the claybird, I immediately step back a foot, and if I miss, I have to go forward  a foot toward the target. Success pays ; failure hurts. I mark the distance with an old post, and I work to get that post farther and farther from the claybird. The post goes back and forth as I shoot and this makes  it a fun game. I shoot without sights and with a bare hand. I want to be able to shoot fast, at night and in an emergency.
  When I finished my workout last night, the sweat had soaked through my leather weight belt, and the front of my belt was wet in spots. But I knew the heat would soon be ending possibly by the next full moon.
Then the mosquitoes and gnats would be gone. I spend most of my four hours working out actually sitting on the bench gasping for breath. One of the unfortunate side-effects of taking antidepressants, at least for me, is that they make you very tired. My mother had remarked that when she took Paxil, she could hardly walk to the other side of the room. Anyway, while I am sitting sucking in air, I inevitably inhale filth gnats. These little buggers do not go down your throat easily either. Instead, they cling. Today, my back hurts from the lifting and shooting, but it is not as pervasive or persistent as the first four-hour workout. I had been doing three hour workouts so there's not a tremendous difference. As a reputed hypochondriac, I am tuned into back pain as it easily can become chronic and debilitating. But for now, I'm proud that I, almost 67 years old, can bicep-curl a fifty pound dumbbell. My schedule for all weights is 3 or 4 sets of 6 to 8 reps. I try to use the fourth set for a heavier weight once I can lift a weight  3 sets of 8 reps.
  It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I noticed that (former-Navy) Seal could not curl the 50 lb. dumbbell when he noticed it out in the yard. Seal was buit with 2x4s while I came out with tinker-toys for bones. I'm only lifting more because he doesn't lift, and I do. Seal lives in a different world than me. His capacity for work, his mental hardness, and , believe it or not, kindness are way beyond me. It's been an honor knowing hiim. Still, when he starts growling, which happens once in a while, I make sure I have a knife in my pocket or excuse myself and go for one! I'd prefer my bow and arrows, but that would be a little obvious, wouldn't it?