Most of my readers know how I feel about the immigration issue.

I am continually outraged by the seeming lack of interest on the part of the authorities in stemming the tide of ILLegal immigration currently occurring on our (mainly southern) borders.

NO country in history that has ceased to enforce it's borders has lasted for very long afterwards. I find it very telling that those that decry our immigration policies as "draconian" and "anti-familial" come mainly from a country who's immigration policies ARE truly thus....

As any right thinking person is, I am NOT anti-immigration; I'm merely in favor of immigration being controlled and occuring under rule of law.

This story at Town Hall demonstrates the difference between what is currently extant, and what should be.

Elvira Arellano represents everything wrong with the invasion that is occuring at present, and make no mistake, it IS an invasion. Invaders care nothing for our laws or culture, they merely wish to be parasites feeding off the bounty that our culture produces and making a mockery of everything that leads to that bounty being produced.

REAL immigrants are like Maria Torres-DeChamberlin; they come here through the LEGAL system, and they work hard at becoming a part of U.S. culture.
They earn their right to become citizens. they realize that America is great because of it's unique culture, and they want to become a part of that cuture. That does not mean that they are ashamed of their native culture, far from it, but they allow the American culture to supercede the native.

For myself, the proudest day of my life was when I raised my right hand and swore my allegience only to the U.S., renouncing all political ties to the country of my birth. The only day that comes close is when I again raised my hand and swore to protect my new homeland and her Constitution from ALL enemies, both foreign and domestic.

With the current lack of enforcement of our laws against what amounts to an invasion of our shores by those who are entrusted with protecting those shores; I fear the time may come soon when I will be forced to uphold my oath and rebel against those that hold that oath as meaningless in their pursuit of political power. May God help us if/when that day dawns, for this "bright shining city on the hill", as Ronald Reagan put it, will no longer exist.

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 05:51 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Chris, a member of a posting group I belong to posted this today and I thought it should be read by a wider scope :

A woman came out of her house and saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them. She said "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."

"Is the man of the house home?", they asked.

"No", she replied. "He's out."

"Then we cannot come in", they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.

"Go tell them I am home and invite them in!" The woman went out and invited the men in.

"We do not go into a House together," they replied.

"Why is that?" she asked.

One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth," he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, "He is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."

The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice!!", he said. "Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!"

His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?"

Their daughter was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"

"Let us heed our daughter's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love to be our guest." The woman went out and asked the 3 old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest."

Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other 2 also got up and followed him. Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: "I only invited Love, Why are you coming in?"

The old men replied together: "If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would've stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever He goes, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!!!!!!"

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 05:05 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We know that the average "Journo" in the AOO really isn't (in the war zone; they have a habit of getting their news from Al Jazeera tv in the lounge of the hotel their staying (put) at.)

They tend not to have a lot of experience with weapons of any type, so when a grandmotherly Iraqi woman showed off some unspent cartridges that she claimed hit her house during an American raid on a suspected terrorist cell site, they (being the top rate Journos they are, never leaving a hint of US Army perfidity unexposed) ran with the story, photos and all, with all assurrance that the public would be greatful for their bravery in being in a war zone and bringing them proof of how eeeeeevil our military really is. Too bad that a great portion of the public does take that story to heart (mainly on the "Progressive" side of the aisle, but that's another rant in it'self)

To those that THINK however, the story would have been MUCH more credible had they they shown BULLETS, rather than unspent CARTRIDGES, and even MORE credible had the cartridges been of a caliber used by the U.S. military rather than in the type used by the AK47 (favorite of, guess who---the ISLAMOFACISTS)

To help the AFP in future reporting, the Dissident Frogman has put together a basic course on how small arm weapons work. I don't know, but I believe he may have gotten too technical for the average Journo to really comprehend, but we can always hope for a rare moment of true comprehension on the part of the terminally uninformed...

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 04:56 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Just happened to catch this on YouTube and thought it was a good combination of a good song and movie.

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 12:32 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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GuyK has been putting up YouTube clips of the music of his youth, so I thought I'd steal that idea and put up some of MY favorite tunes from my youth....

Jim Morrison..some hail him as a divine poet, some denounce him as the devil incarnate..I just thought he made some really cool music that spoke to a whole generation, for good or ill, it's up to the individual listener. Think what you will, but even the (C)Rap "artist" Snoop Dog thought it was worth a remix:

I hate to admit I like it, but that beat just gets to you....

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I was a soldier a few years after this song was at it's height, but even though it was supposed to be an anti-war protest song, I still felt it was a tribute to the sacrifices of the soldier in a roundabout way..or maybe I just had had too large a toke on the pipe? It still moves me that way.

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I can remember playing this song over and over again in my barracks room; it fit my homesick mood at the time.

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And last but not least, the ONLY song my dad and I ever agreed on as being worthy of airplay:

And just for fun:

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 06:46 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Today is a blue ribbon day for me. It's a tripple one year anniversary.

One year ago I smoked my (hopefully) last cigarette...from a three pack a day habit to zero----cold turkey. I STILL want one, and like any addict, it's one day at a time, but I hope I can keep the streak going for the rest of my time on this ball of mud.

The REASON I quit on that day last year was because I was going in for my second open heart procedure the next day. I was scared and I vowed that if I made it through this episode, I wouldn't waste whatever extra time the surgeons could gain for me by continuing such a stupid bad habit.

Third and certainly NOT least, it was at approximately 1830 hrs on the 17th of August, 2006 that I finally got my first glimpse of Beth*A. She had taken leave time that she had not yet earned from her job just to be there to support me in whatever way she could through the surgury and the recovery afterward.

Beth has been the angel in my life ever since.

And to all my Internet friends: from an old vet that doesn't deserve it, but will be forever greatful for the friendship every one of you has shown me the last three years.

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 01:14 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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I had promised some friends a while back to post a pic of my little honey.
I haven't been able to get any good pics to download from my camera, but I did find this one on Google Pics, and it looks EXACTLY like my baby, except that I have some custom pinstriping. Everything else is a comeplete match.

She's a 2000 Honda Goldwing GL1500SE. A real Winabago of bikes, I know, but just the thing for an old geezer like me who values creature comforts over off the line speed.

Oh ,and Darth, NO it DOESN'T come equipped with a popcorn popper and a smoothy maker....maybe I'll have to look into that....

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 02:47 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The following story was posted in my 2nd Amendment disscussion group, and as an ex-LEO, I can attest to the truth contained within it...

You're Not A Cop Until You Taste Them:

The department was all astir, there was a lot of laughing and joking due to all the new officers, myself included, hitting the streets today for the first time. After months of seemingly endless amounts of classes, paperwork, and lectures we were finally done with the Police Academy and ready to join the ranks of our department.

All you could see were rows of cadets with huge smiles and polished badges. As we sat in the briefing room, we could barely sit still anxiously awaiting our turn to be introduced and given our beat assignment or, for the lay person, our own portion of the city to "serve and protect."

It was then that he walked in. A statue of a man - 6 foot 3 and 230 pounds of solid muscle, he had black hair with highlights of gray and steely eyes that make you feel nervous even when he wasn't looking at you. He had a reputation for being the biggest and the smartest officer to ever work our fair city. He had been on the department for longer than anyone could remember and those years of service had made him into somewhat of a legend.

The new guys, or "rookies" as he called us, both respected and feared him. When he spoke even, the most seasoned officers paid attention. It was almost a privilege when one the rookies got to be around when he would tell one of his police stories about the old days. But we knew our place and never interrupted for fear of being shooed away. He was respected and revered by all who knew him.

After my first year on the department I still had never heard or saw him speak to any of the rookies for any length of time. When he did speak to them all he would say was, "So, you want to be a policeman do you hero? I'll tell you what, when you can tell me what they taste like, then you can call yourself a real policeman."

This particular phrase I had heard dozens of times. Me and my buddies all had bets about "what they taste like" actually referred to. Some believed it referred to the taste of your own blood after a hard fight. Others thought it referred to the taste of sweat after a long day's work. Being on the department for a year, I thought I knew just about everyone and everything.

So one afternoon, I mustered up the courage and walked up to him. When he looked down at me, I said, "You know, I think I've paid my dues. I've been in plenty of fights, made dozens of arrests, and sweated my butt off just like everyone else. So what does that little saying of yours mean anyway?"

With that, he merely stated, "Well, seeing as how you've said and done it all, you tell me what it means, hero" When I had no answer, he shook his head and snickered, "rookies," and walked away.

The next evening was to be the worst one to date. The night started out slow, but as the evening wore on, the calls became more frequent and dangerous. I made several small arrests and then had a real knock down drag out fight. However, I was able to make the arrest without hurting the suspect or myself. After that, I was looking forward to just letting the shift wind down and getting home to my wife and daughter.

I had just glanced at my watch and it was 11:55, five more minutes and I would be on my way to the house. I don't know if it was fatigue or just my imagination, but as I drove down one of the streets on my beat, I thought I saw my daughter standing on someone else's porch. I looked again but it was not my daughter as I had first thought but merely a small child about her age. She was probably only six or seven years old and dressed in an oversized shirt that hung to her feet. She was clutching an old rag doll in her arms that looked older than me.

I immediately stopped my patrol car to see what she was doing outside her house at such an hour by herself. When I approached, there seemed to be a sigh of relief on her face. I had to laugh to myself, thinking she sees the hero policeman come to save the day I knelt at her side and asked what she was doing outside.

She said "My mommy and daddy just had a really big fight and now mommy won't wake up." My mind was reeling. Now what do I do? I instantly called for backup and ran to the nearest window. As I looked inside I saw a man standing over a lady with his hands covered in blood, her blood. I kicked open the door, pushed the man aside and checked for a pulse, but unable to find one. I immediately cuffed the man and began doing CPR on the lady.

It was then I heard a small voice from behind me, "Mr. Policeman, please make my mommy wake up." I continued to perform CPR until my backup and medics arrived but they said it was too late. She was dead. I then looked at the man. He said, "I don't know what happened. She was yelling at me to stop drinking and go get a job and I had just had enough. I just shoved her so she would leave me alone and she fell and hit her head." As I walked the man out to the car in handcuffs, I again saw that little girl. In the five minutes that has passed, I went from hero to monster. Not only was I unable to wake up her mommy, but now I was taking daddy away too.

Before I left the scene, I thought I would talk to the little girl. To say what, I don't know. Maybe just to tell her I was sorry about her mommy and daddy. But as I approached, she turned away and I knew it was useless and I would probably make it worse.

As I sat in the locker room at the station, I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind. Maybe if I would have been faster or done something different, just maybe that little girl would still have her mother. And even though it may sound selfish, I would still be the hero.

It was then that I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I heard that all too familiar question again, "Well, hero, what do they taste like?"

But before I could get mad or shout some sarcastic remark, I realized that all the pent up emotions had flooded the surface and there was a steady stream of tears cascading down my face. It was at that moment that I realized what the answer to his question was.

Tears.

With that, he began to walk away, but he stopped. "You know, there was nothing you could have done differently," he said. "Sometimes you can do everything right and still the outcome is the same. You may not be the hero you once thought you were, but now you ARE a police officer."

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 07:35 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Catfish sent me a picture recently of a 9'1", 97 Lb. Rattlesnake and a recipe of how to make such a critter "Good Eats".

DEEP-FRIED RATTLESNAKE

1 medium-sized rattlesnake (3-4 lbs.), cut into steaks
1/2 cup flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup cracker crumbs
1/2 cup milk
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (not garlic salt)
1 teaspoon salt
Dash pepper

Mix dry ingredients. Whisk milk into beaten egg and use to dip snake steaks.
Then coat them with dry ingredients. Fry, uncovered, in 400 degree oil until brown.

Anyone know where I can get some Rattlesnake meat around here in Indy to try it out for myself?

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 07:00 AM | Comments (37) | Add Comment
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Hot Air has an interview with Robert Spencer of Jihad Watch.

This is one the best explainations of the differences between Christianity and RADICAL Islam; the most important idea brought out from the interview and the ensuing comments is (as usual, emph. mine. D):

"Read the whole New Testament and you wonÂ’t find any justification for the Crusades, the witch-hunts and the Inquisition. Westerners deviated from Biblical Christianity when our ancestors did these things. On the other hand, when muslims engage in jihad, they are not deviating from their religion, but are acting according to it." (

Another point brought out in discussion in the comments was that the Crusades were the result of a (long delayed) response of Muslim Jihad:

"We canÂ’t even include the Crusades in this, as it was a response to 300 years of jihad by muslims in Jerusalem & other parts of the territory.

It may not be specifically sanctioned by the New Testament, but fighting oppression by muslims was vital to protect the Christians and Jews in the region.

That needs to be kept in mindÂ…that and 350 years of the Inquisition killed fewer than 4 years of attacks today, or 500 years of Moghul rule."

Posted by: Delftsman3 at 06:51 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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