What my Dad called War, and why I will call it the same.



The Most potent, lingering, memory of my father, now gone twenty nine years ago today, was his views on war and peace. How each should come to be, and what should be done to make for each.

David E. Bailey Jr. served this nation for more than two decades in the U.S. Navy, through both Korea and Vietnam. The experiences gained I can only presume helped refine what was a very cerebral mind on what war and peace are bourn from. He never spoke of any of the violence he may have seen or undertook as he recalled his time of service to the boy that was his youngest son, whom eagerly hung on every word of every tale, but he would occasionally pause after a moment of reflection and with tone that would shape the man I would become each time as he would utter such things as.

“It is not the words of peaceful men, nor the actions of violent ones, that may prevent war. but those few men who wield both that win them”

“Beware the man who justifies the horror of any act relative to another, for some day he may justify it by another upon you.”

“I would rather live with the burden of conscience of what brutality it took to defeat a terrible enemy, than fall to him ”

It should be noted that my father was, to my eyes, a peaceful man, who reinforced civil discourse to me again and again. Yet, never failed to make clear to me that when there came time for conflict, which would be self defining, your response had to be absolute, as did your conviction.

“War is about killing people and breaking things, till your enemy can no longer do the same. That’s how you win.”

Today, we face an enemy in the form of Radical Islamic Jihad, unlike anything the world has ever known. Though war is the ultimate expression of mans’ barbarity, in it we also find his greatness.


Qualities I learned from My Dad.


This enemy to all of humanity is devoid of these things, and for this reason I say we must unite a make war upon them in response to both there acts and declaration.

On terms these monsters can understand. A War whose nature and need, is like the one my Father taught to me.



Wounds we Pretend to see.

There is nothing more certain a primer to proof of life than hurt. It is an all validating tool of existence of ourselves, and others. Through it we transform, transcend, awaken, enlighten, come into being.

It is , or should be, the most certain and soulful of emotional mortars, Humanities bonding agent, for it is something we have and will share.

Yet In truth, by our own design, sullen willfulness, loss forged rage, or ignorance in malice, we will effort with all our might not to know the hurt of another, even as we may heap it upon them. From this, hurts’ sisters, Sorrow and Sadness, they become the ties that bind.

But there is above all, a greatest tragedy, the most piteous irony sown in hurt that we may share with those whom love and trust have also been woven.

It is when we so have not the courage to face in ourselves, those wounds in them we pretend to see.DSC01312

A UnGuilty White Guy Opines on Ferguson.

DSC01442I am white, in the classic I should feel guilty for being born that way kind of way. But I am more of a pale/pinkish/partially tan depending on seasons in reality, but reality no longer matters. I don’t Feel guilty for a DAMN THING done by somebody else , to someone else at some point that was white, wasn’t white. or yellow , brown, burnt Siena (my favorite crayon color) or any other part of the melatonin rainbow.
What happened in Ferguson, at all stages was a tragedy, but not a damn bit about it had to do with being “White” or “Black” or any other shade in the Crayola box of humanity.
It was about
Race Baiting

Men hate, men destroy, and last I check History proved that color and geography mattered not a damn, who killed, and got Killed.

Do mankind a favor.. Hug somebody, buy them a drink, set down to a meal with somebody you hardly know.
If you cant do these things.. just stay your ass home.

Failing a Nation and those who would not let it fail.


I am the son of a Veteran. My grandfather served, my brother, nephew, uncles, aunts, cousins, and many dear friends. I have always taken great pride, in my pride, of being an American.

Why, because of how we came to be, what we have overcome, what we have done, as a nation.

In the nature of my reasoning, I have come to a single, salient, reason for all of the above.

Those who have served, fought, and died for our nation.

To me, it is an inescapable reason why we still exist as a nation at all. So you would understand how vexed I might be, given all that I have conveyed, as to why we cannot take care of those who have served this nation.

I am , referring of course, to the Horrendous and complete Failure by Veterans Affairs to provide not just adequate, but exceptional care for EVERY SINGLE MAN AND WOMAN WHOM HAVE SERVED THIS NATION HONORABLY.

These men and women, many injured in defense of this nation, and each other(That itself an action truly noble)  should never suffer unduly.

Not an hour, a day or in this case months….

Click to access VAOIG-14-02603-267.pdf


What happened in Arizona is just one, ONE horrific example of how we are failing our veterans. There are so many(examples) that I could not Read them any longer without being so very upset. I kept thinking there has to be justice ,Real justice for such an affront to the real honor of this nation that is personified in the flesh and blood of Veterans. And what has been done to rectify this collapse of hounor by The V.A.?

Behold, shame upon failure.


Four… almost fired people, when hundreds, and I fear thousands, have died waiting WAITIING…. for an appointment, to seek care for wounds earned, and bodies broken in defense of You and I .

Anyone knows me Knows the level of sarcasm and derision I can let loose on matters, both big and small, as a matter of Me being me. I will not do that now, in honor of what the importance of this matter represents.

I will merely take a moment a be silent.

Its the best reverence I can muster amidst sadness and shame, for those who died waiting for their nation to honor them, for keeping us safe, making us strong, and insuring we are Free.


 If you feel as I do and want to Help please the Link Below!!


Things that make you grateful for being from the South.

the river

Being introduced to boiled Peanuts
The food at potlucks.
The way a grandmother will call your name.
The real meaning of the word Momma.
The quality of use in swear words.
Sunlight through an April fog.
The real meaning of the word Tubing.

And the things that just aint right about it.

Beer cans at boat landings.
Drunk parking at the waffle house.
Idiots on jet skis on the river.
The danger of driving on Sunday morning. (at least when my Grandmother was alive)
Skeeters.. them DAMN skeeters!

Hearing northerners complain about us.

That Fixed point, what will we do.?


Warning!! Very graphic!!
      There are Fixed points in history where it matters little how it came to be, all that matters is how we dealt with it. These Barbarians are one of those moments. I don’t give a damn right now about blame, Philosophers and Partisans can hack that out in useless debate later on. This horror will spread, and will come to our very doorstep. Some men cannot be reasoned with. They are Violent monsters, period. What will need to be done to stop them will be yet another dark moment in Man’s history, But darker still will be what will transpire if we don’t.

The sights before us, and how time changes them.



Life often reduces us to constructs of thought that are at best, belligerent, and at worst, violent. We do this so easily, we seldom realize what they could mean ..in a different time or different place.

It is much more an act of dedicated effort to build notions that are benevolent and compassionate, but doing so is the best of things..

For from thought action is born.. and for good or ill, consequences are to be found, and histories written.. and from that we build monuments to remember them.

Time then brushes over consequences.. and histories are lost or changed

The monuments weather on the longest.. a lingering shadow of what the thoughts of men may do..and for this reason we should govern carefully our thoughts, for one day they could be the lingering stones upon mount or field.. and may govern how the thoughts of those beings who will follow us, and the actions they choose.

Put a Name on it.. why I hate the hill named Larry.

Larry.. I forgot to take it from the bottom and sure as hell am not walking back down to get that pic.

Larry.. I forgot to take it from the bottom and sure as hell am not walking back down to get that pic.

“Age catches all in her slowly closing embrace,” this is a somewhat eloquent interpretation of time and its affect upon us. A more blunt perception of this would be “Getting Old Sucks.” This presents itself in both subtle and not so subtle ways..

The subtle…..

Strained recollections of things once so common, the absence of recognition of the who’s who on the red carpet(which your watching cause you cant find the remote to change the TV back to the history channel), or the painful revelation that your favorite high school song is on the classic rock station…

Then, there is the not so subtle..

Deciding how important an errand is based on is it worth putting on pants, the use of ointments.. (the key here is frequency and plurality) and lastly .. how and where gravity has to do with it..

stairs.. body parts.. walking uphill….

These brings me to the uncomfortable issue of Larry.

As further evidence of my chronological placement I still use the old southern technique of the anthromorphization of inanimate objects to channel frustration and aggression..

AKA..”put a name on it”

In this case it is a unpleasant hill on Otterman St  as it leads to my most recent source of inspiration and more importantly the closest source of my beloved Caffeine from where I am house guesting here in Greensburg. My hosts are the most marvelous of souls….but for one inexplicable disinterest in coffee…thus giving cause for my morning trek.. a overly long short walk up the back of LARRY, the name I have placed upon this most hated incline of asphalt and brick.

Each morning here.. I have been reminded of time’s not so subtle effects.. specifically the harsh mistress of gravity on my body parts..  and as for the passersby on this grueling stretch of ground between myself and caffeine I am sure they wonder what happened to make me mumble “f*%k you Larry.” about every third step I take.


611825_1377551106_1886Help Michelle.

Please help..  This is the child of a dear friend who I have personally witnessed his tireless devotion that has renewed my faith in my fellow man. He and His fiancé, an extraordinary young woman who shows equal measures of love and dedication as well, desperately need this help. please click on link and donate what you can.


The enemy of my enemy .. is my enemy.. WTH!?… a war with Syria will end badly.

My Original thoughts remain the same, this will go very badly. Assad is a monster, with Chemical weapons.

What Say you


Let me start with the Obvious..  Syrian President Bashar al-Assad is a murderous psychopathic Ass Clown. He has slaughtered thousands of innocents, even with chemical weapons, as a civil war rages in Syria.

Assad is also F%^k buddies with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad(I am guessing that Asshatassad is the pitcher, and the Ahmadinaspidermonkey the catcher in this pairing..Not judging here) With Vlad “I invented oxygen and the letter q” Putin the pimp.

So three pretty bad guys altogether.. plotting and killing and whatnot.

Then comes the new tools on the block.

See Below…

Syria crisis: Al-Nusra pledges allegiance to al-Qaeda


Not a surprise that these Vermin are sliding into the fray, and as for the rebels.. they are getting their clocks cleaned by the Assadomites daily, and with little help from the world at large. So desperate times comes for calls of desperate measures..

Speaking of which.. here is a…

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