Russia wants war

I thought this humorous.

The dune buggy that can fly

Reloading Manual

Nate asked me on his blog what my favorite reloading manual was.

Speer

At Amazon

I took a picture.

Amazing Grace

It has been over two years since I picked up a guitar and sang. So expect suck. I did it because I still can. I even wrote a new verse for the song. I think there are five, because I sang it at a friends funeral ten years ago.  Anyway, It will do, I don't expect practicing too much it takes too much energy. And that shirt that looks two sizes too big, it is and yes I just woke up from a short 10 minute  nap (fell asleep) and went and got out my guitar and tuned it. I already had the camera set on a tripod because I was recording something off the internet and don't have screen capture that I know of.

Update: "Here" should be "There" Second verse. Oh well maybe I was looking into the future.. Use head phones to capture bass, other wise sounds like I have a cheap guitar singing though my nose.

Race Card

Someone sent this to me in an email. I don't get the Expiration date shouldn't it be 01/17
 or 11/16?

Septembers Storm

I'm not a chicken.
I've seen many a chill September.
And though I was a youngster then,
The gale I well remember.

The day before my kite string snapped,

and now my kite perusing.
The wind swept off my straw weaved hat.
For me two storms a brewing.

It came as quarrels sometimes do

When married folks get clashing.
There was a heavy sigh or two
Before the fire was flashing.

A little stir among the clouds

Before they rent asunder.
A little rocking of the trees
And then came on the thunder.

All above was in a howl

All below a clatter
The earth was like a frying pan
Or some such hissing matter.

Lord! How streams and rivers boiled

They seemed like bursting craters.
The oaks lay scattered on the ground
As if they were potaters.

It chanced to be our washing day

And all our clothes were drying.
The wind came whistling through the lines
And set them all a-flying.

I saw the shirts and underwear

Go flying off like witches.
And then alas!-
I saw my Sunday breeches.

I saw them straddling through the air

Alas! To late to win them.
I saw them chase the clouds on high
As if a demon in them.

They were my darlings and my pride,

My boyhoods only riches.
Farewell, farewell, I vainly cried
My breeches, oh, my breeches!

That night I saw them in my dreams.

Now changed from what I knew them-
The dew had steeped their faded threads
The wind had whistled through them.

I saw the wide and ghastly rent

Where demons claws had torn them.
A hole was in the amplest part
As if an imp had worn them.

Now I've had many happy years

And tailors kind and clever;
But those young pantaloons
Are gone forever and forever.

And not 'til time shall cut the last

Of all my earthly stitches,
The aching heart shall cease to mourn,
My breeches, Oh, my breeches

Yesterdays

 

Time is like a lonely breeze,

That softly blows among the trees.

By the time you realize it's there-

it's gone away.