You know, the more I learn about the Battle of Beecher Island, the more I want to talk about it. But I did promise to wrap it up within five installments and like they say, a deal’s a deal.
The rest of the story is a little sketchy. What I mean is that I’ve read several different versions of it by several different authors. So I’m just going to go with the version they inscribed on the monument in 1905. I figure if that’s the story they’re sticking to, it’s good enough for me.
Lieutenant, Forsyth knew if they were going to survive he’d have to send for help. On the first night, J.S. Stillwell and P. Trudeau escaped by crawling past the Indian’s lines on their hands and knees. Their assignment was to reach Fort Wallace, some 60 miles to the southeast any way they could and send help.
Because of all the Indians in the area, Stillwell and Trudeau were forced to travel by night and spend their days in hiding. On the 5th day, they flagged down a stagecoach and rode it the rest of the way to Fort Wallace.
On the third night, Forsyth sent two more men named, J. Donovan, and A.G. Pilley in the direction of Fort Donovan. They followed the south fork of the Republican River and eventually reached Fort Donovan, but because the soldiers were out in the field, the place was mostly deserted. They were able to round up four men and immediately headed back toward Beecher Island. Finally, once they had gotten within about twenty miles from the island, they ran across Captain Louis H. Carpenter and his Company of about 60 “Buffalo Soldiers,” who were out on patrol. Captain Louis was a good friend of Forsyth’s from the Civil War, and as soon as the two scouts told him of their situation, Donovan and Pilley led them on a twenty mile, mad dash.
Meanwhile, back on the island, Forsyth and his men’s situation was getting desperate. The only food they had was the putrid, rotting meat of their dead horses. The injuries of the wounded had become infected and many of them were literally on the verge of dying. They had no way knowing whether the two teams they’d sent for help even got past the Indians, let alone whether or not they were coming back.
Finally, at 10:00 AM on the ninth day (September 26th, 1868) since their ordeal began, the men trapped on the island saw movement on the prairie. Within an hour they could see it was a Cavalry unit coming their way. The Indians were also watching this movement. They knew they had failed to starve the white men to death like they wanted and reluctantly decided to move on.
Captain Louis and his Buffalo Soldiers fed the men who were able to eat and began trying to stabilize the wounded as best they could. One scout’s injuries were so severe, Captain Louis’ surgeon decided the only way to save the man’s life was to amputate his left leg.
You need understand just how brutal this had to have been. It’s not like they had a clean, sterilized operating room to work in. It took place on a filthy sand bar in the middle of a river, surrounded by the stench of fifty dead and rotting horses that were laying everywhere. Somehow, civilian scout, Lewis Farley lived through the surgery but didn’t make it through the night. A few hours before sunrise on the morning of the 27th, he became the fifth and final casualty in the battle of Beecher Island.
About noon the next day, a full twenty-six hours after Captain Louis and his Buffalo Soldiers from Fort Donovan arrived, civilian scouts, Stillwell and Trudeau arrived with help from Fort Wallace in Kansas. To say they were relieved to find that help had already arrived would be an understatement. The rescue they had planned had turned into an evacuation and they loaded the weak and wounded into Government wagons for the two day trip back to Fort Wallace.
Today, one hundred-forty-one-years later, you can safely stand on the exact spot the island was. You can see the ravine, Roman Nose led his attacks from. And you can walk a mile long trail around the battle field. The first stop on the trail is a memorial dedicated to one of the bravest Cheyenne warriors who ever lived, Roman Nose on top of the hill he led his last charge from. It’s a very moving experience. Anyway, it was for me.
It was pointed out to me that this whole thing didn’t happen along the Republican River after all. So for a point of clarification, it took place on a the Arickaree Fork of the Republican River. Hope that helps clear things up.
It was suggested in an e-mail that I provide references to back up my story. Fair enough. Just do like I did before I even took the trip. Google it. It’s as simple as that.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the story about The Battle of Beecher Island as much as I’ve enjoyed telling it and I also hope one day you get the chance to take a road trip to Wray Colorado to see it for yourself.
Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Beecher Island: Part Four...
Let’s see now, where were we? Oh yeah, the last time we talked, Lieutenant Forsyth and his fifty-one scouts had barricaded themselves on a small sand bar (Beecher Island) in the middle of the Republican River. They had survived the initial attack with only two casualties. Second in command, Lt. Beecher and civilian scout, George W. Culver had both been killed. Lt. Forsyth had been shot in the leg, and acting surgeon, Dr. JH Moores had been shot in the head, but for some reason or another, was still alive. They were now bracing themselves for an all out assault on their position from a band of approximately 300 Indian warriors led by the well known, Cheyenne Warrior, Roman Nose.
Because of the way the ravine Roman Nose had decided to attack from was situated, the men could hear the Indians coming before they ever saw them. Forsyth shouted out a few last minute orders. He told them this was it, there was no more time to prepare. He directed them to look out for one another, to hold their fire until the Indians reached the edge of the river, and to make every shot count. It probably wasn’t politically correct, but he also told them he’d personally kill any man who tried to desert his post.
The attack was classic, Roman Nose. There he was, fearless, and like always, front and center. But because of the narrow ravine he had chosen to attack from he and his men had become easy targets for Forsyth and his men.
As they emerged, the Indians were only two or three abreast and with the new Spencer Seven-Shooter, one after another fell. The attacks came wave after wave and the results were all pretty much the same. Every Indian who came within range was met with another, deadly accurate bullet.
Roman Nose called off the attack long enough to regroup. It was decided they’d break up into several smaller groups and try to surround the men on the sand bar. Who knows, maybe if they’d tried this tactic from the beginning, things would have turned out different.
Roman Nose led his group from the top of a hill just west of Forsyth’s position. By now he was full of rage. He was driven by his hatred of the white man and had become frustrated by his inability to slaughter this small group of men. Maybe he had become careless by making himself such an easy target. But this would be Roman Nose’s last fight.
As he reached the river’s edge, Roman Nose was met with a fatal shot. He struggled to stay on his horse for a while. But finally, death overtook him and he fell where he was. His death had an immediate, demoralizing effect on the warriors and the attack was called off.
Because of a good, last minute plan, and superior fire power, Forsyth and his men had won the battle against what seemed like impossible odds.
But it wasn’t over. The battle had now become a siege. The Indians decided if they couldn’t beat the white men in this battle, they’d keep them pinned down on their sand bar and simply starve them to death. And so it began.
Once it became clear the battle was over Forsyth and his men slowly crawled out of their holes in the sand to take stock of themselves and of each other. They had lost two more men in the battle. Civilian Scouts, William Nelson and Lewis Farley had both been killed. When they went to check on the surgeon, DH Moorse, they discovered he had also died of the gun shot wound to the head he had suffered earlier in the day. On top of all that, there were 18 more men wounded, some of them critically.
All the food and medical supplies the men had were loaded on the four pack-mules they brought with them. All four mules had been killed and were laying some hundred yards to the north of their position. They might as well have been on the moon. There was no way the Indians were going to allow the men to retrieve any of their supplies. They tended to the wounded as best as they could and tried not to think about having no food.
As night fell, they buried their dead on the battlefield and Forsyth explained their situation to his men. He told them it looked like the Indians intended to starve them out and asked for volunteers to break through the Indian‘s lines and head some sixty miles away to Fort Wallace for help. Four men stepped forward.
Kevin McGinty
Because of the way the ravine Roman Nose had decided to attack from was situated, the men could hear the Indians coming before they ever saw them. Forsyth shouted out a few last minute orders. He told them this was it, there was no more time to prepare. He directed them to look out for one another, to hold their fire until the Indians reached the edge of the river, and to make every shot count. It probably wasn’t politically correct, but he also told them he’d personally kill any man who tried to desert his post.
The attack was classic, Roman Nose. There he was, fearless, and like always, front and center. But because of the narrow ravine he had chosen to attack from he and his men had become easy targets for Forsyth and his men.
As they emerged, the Indians were only two or three abreast and with the new Spencer Seven-Shooter, one after another fell. The attacks came wave after wave and the results were all pretty much the same. Every Indian who came within range was met with another, deadly accurate bullet.
Roman Nose called off the attack long enough to regroup. It was decided they’d break up into several smaller groups and try to surround the men on the sand bar. Who knows, maybe if they’d tried this tactic from the beginning, things would have turned out different.
Roman Nose led his group from the top of a hill just west of Forsyth’s position. By now he was full of rage. He was driven by his hatred of the white man and had become frustrated by his inability to slaughter this small group of men. Maybe he had become careless by making himself such an easy target. But this would be Roman Nose’s last fight.
As he reached the river’s edge, Roman Nose was met with a fatal shot. He struggled to stay on his horse for a while. But finally, death overtook him and he fell where he was. His death had an immediate, demoralizing effect on the warriors and the attack was called off.
Because of a good, last minute plan, and superior fire power, Forsyth and his men had won the battle against what seemed like impossible odds.
But it wasn’t over. The battle had now become a siege. The Indians decided if they couldn’t beat the white men in this battle, they’d keep them pinned down on their sand bar and simply starve them to death. And so it began.
Once it became clear the battle was over Forsyth and his men slowly crawled out of their holes in the sand to take stock of themselves and of each other. They had lost two more men in the battle. Civilian Scouts, William Nelson and Lewis Farley had both been killed. When they went to check on the surgeon, DH Moorse, they discovered he had also died of the gun shot wound to the head he had suffered earlier in the day. On top of all that, there were 18 more men wounded, some of them critically.
All the food and medical supplies the men had were loaded on the four pack-mules they brought with them. All four mules had been killed and were laying some hundred yards to the north of their position. They might as well have been on the moon. There was no way the Indians were going to allow the men to retrieve any of their supplies. They tended to the wounded as best as they could and tried not to think about having no food.
As night fell, they buried their dead on the battlefield and Forsyth explained their situation to his men. He told them it looked like the Indians intended to starve them out and asked for volunteers to break through the Indian‘s lines and head some sixty miles away to Fort Wallace for help. Four men stepped forward.
Kevin McGinty
Beecher Island: Part Three...
Satisfied that he’d made all the preparations he could, Forsyth retreated to the tent he shared with his second in command, Lt. Beecher. They talked about the fight they were about to take on and they talked about their families and made other small talk. The fact they were going up against the fearsome warrior, Roman Nose seemed to bother both men but neither of them really wanted to talk about it.
They knew they were outnumbered and the only real chance they had was to try to catch the enemy off guard by attacking them while they were still asleep. The plan was to hit them at 4:00 the next morning.
What they didn’t know, was that they had been lured into a trap. The 150 Cheyenne warriors they had followed to this place in the middle of nowhere had been joined overnight by warriors of the Northern Cheyenne, Arapaho, and the Ogala Souix tribes, making them a combined force of somewhere between 750 and 1000 strong.
It was still a couple hours before sunrise on the morning of Sept. 17, 1868, the men were breaking camp, saddling up their horses, and making final preparations for the battle that lie ahead when out of nowhere, came the first rifle shot from one of the sentries posted on the hills surrounding the camp.
Eight or nine warriors had snuck past the sentry’s position and into camp in an effort to stampede the men’s horses and leave Forsyth and his men stranded on foot and making them easy targets. Once it became clear that wasn’t going to work, the warriors disappeared back into the night just as fast as they had appeared.
Forsyth knew he had lost the chance of a surprise attack and need time to consider his next move.
It was quiet for the next hour or so. Then just as the sun started to rise, shots rang out from the rest of the sentries. The men came riding into camp as fast as their horses could take them to report they were being surrounded on all sides by more hostile Indians than they’d ever seen at one time.
In no time at all, it became apparent just how much trouble they were in. The Indians had started to crest the hills overlooking the camp. They were lined up on both sides of the river as far as the eye could see.
Forsyth knew if he and his men were going to have any chance of surviving they had to find some kind of cover, and quick. He ordered them to retreat to a small sandbar (island) in the middle of the river about a hundred yards just south of their position. It was a pretty good size sandbar with one lone Cottonwood tree and a large growth of Willows growing around it. It wasn’t much, but he knew it was the only chance they had.
They made a mad dash toward the island. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds either. The river back then was a lot wider and deeper than it is today. There were parts where the water came up to the men’s chests but they all made it.
Just as they made it to the island, the Indians started their attack. It was vicious. The air was filled with hot lead and arrows and it didn’t let up. Right off the bat, Forsyth was shot in the leg, and his second in command, Lieutenant Fredrick H. Beecher was killed. Most of the horses were killed and fell where they stood. Struggling to stay alert, Forsyth ordered his men to use the dead horses for cover and to start digging holes in the soft sand (foxholes) with their tin plates, rifle butts, or their bare hands.
The plan worked, and after an hour the Indians became frustrated and called off the initial attack and retreated back over the hills they had come from to regroup. The men on the sandbar realized they were getting good cover and used this time to re-enforce their holes in the sand and to tend to the wounded the best they could. Lt. Forsyth used the time to dig out the lead ball that been buried deep in his thigh.
It was somewhere around noon that day when Forsyth and his men watched as the Indians gathered again. They knew they were making plans for another attack. They also noticed that in the middle of the gathering was a big, tall Indian who seemed to be doing most of the talking. They knew at once it was none other than Roman Nose himself.
They didn’t have to wait long for the plan to unfold. Roman Nose led a party of about three hundred warriors in a direct assault on their position from a small ravine to the west, as the rest of their war party tried to sneak in from both sides of the river using the tall grass for cover.
What Roman Nose and his warriors didn’t know, was that Forsyth and his men were all armed with a new type of rifle, the .56 Cal. Spencer Seven-Shooter. The Indians were well aware of the damage a single shot rifle was capable of but this was the first time they’d ever came up against a repeating rifle. To say the least, the results were devastating.
Kevin McGinty
They knew they were outnumbered and the only real chance they had was to try to catch the enemy off guard by attacking them while they were still asleep. The plan was to hit them at 4:00 the next morning.
What they didn’t know, was that they had been lured into a trap. The 150 Cheyenne warriors they had followed to this place in the middle of nowhere had been joined overnight by warriors of the Northern Cheyenne, Arapaho, and the Ogala Souix tribes, making them a combined force of somewhere between 750 and 1000 strong.
It was still a couple hours before sunrise on the morning of Sept. 17, 1868, the men were breaking camp, saddling up their horses, and making final preparations for the battle that lie ahead when out of nowhere, came the first rifle shot from one of the sentries posted on the hills surrounding the camp.
Eight or nine warriors had snuck past the sentry’s position and into camp in an effort to stampede the men’s horses and leave Forsyth and his men stranded on foot and making them easy targets. Once it became clear that wasn’t going to work, the warriors disappeared back into the night just as fast as they had appeared.
Forsyth knew he had lost the chance of a surprise attack and need time to consider his next move.
It was quiet for the next hour or so. Then just as the sun started to rise, shots rang out from the rest of the sentries. The men came riding into camp as fast as their horses could take them to report they were being surrounded on all sides by more hostile Indians than they’d ever seen at one time.
In no time at all, it became apparent just how much trouble they were in. The Indians had started to crest the hills overlooking the camp. They were lined up on both sides of the river as far as the eye could see.
Forsyth knew if he and his men were going to have any chance of surviving they had to find some kind of cover, and quick. He ordered them to retreat to a small sandbar (island) in the middle of the river about a hundred yards just south of their position. It was a pretty good size sandbar with one lone Cottonwood tree and a large growth of Willows growing around it. It wasn’t much, but he knew it was the only chance they had.
They made a mad dash toward the island. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds either. The river back then was a lot wider and deeper than it is today. There were parts where the water came up to the men’s chests but they all made it.
Just as they made it to the island, the Indians started their attack. It was vicious. The air was filled with hot lead and arrows and it didn’t let up. Right off the bat, Forsyth was shot in the leg, and his second in command, Lieutenant Fredrick H. Beecher was killed. Most of the horses were killed and fell where they stood. Struggling to stay alert, Forsyth ordered his men to use the dead horses for cover and to start digging holes in the soft sand (foxholes) with their tin plates, rifle butts, or their bare hands.
The plan worked, and after an hour the Indians became frustrated and called off the initial attack and retreated back over the hills they had come from to regroup. The men on the sandbar realized they were getting good cover and used this time to re-enforce their holes in the sand and to tend to the wounded the best they could. Lt. Forsyth used the time to dig out the lead ball that been buried deep in his thigh.
It was somewhere around noon that day when Forsyth and his men watched as the Indians gathered again. They knew they were making plans for another attack. They also noticed that in the middle of the gathering was a big, tall Indian who seemed to be doing most of the talking. They knew at once it was none other than Roman Nose himself.
They didn’t have to wait long for the plan to unfold. Roman Nose led a party of about three hundred warriors in a direct assault on their position from a small ravine to the west, as the rest of their war party tried to sneak in from both sides of the river using the tall grass for cover.
What Roman Nose and his warriors didn’t know, was that Forsyth and his men were all armed with a new type of rifle, the .56 Cal. Spencer Seven-Shooter. The Indians were well aware of the damage a single shot rifle was capable of but this was the first time they’d ever came up against a repeating rifle. To say the least, the results were devastating.
Kevin McGinty
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Beecher Island: Part Two...
Let’s see now, where were we? Oh yeah, we were talking about a battle site in northeastern Colorado called Beecher Island I visited a while back.
We talked about Lieutenant Forsyth leading a group of fifty-one men in search of a band renegade Indians. Forsyth and his men had caught up the Indians they had been pursuing on the afternoon of September 17th, 1868 just west of Fort Wallace, which was located in the westernmost part of the Kansas territory. In order to rest his men, Forsyth ordered them to make camp in a small valley along the Republican River early that evening, and Forsyth and his second in command, Lieutenant Fredrick H. Beecher had retreated to their tent to plan their next move and to await their date with destiny.
Alright then, today we’re going to talk about one of the main players they were going up against, Cheyenne Chief, Roman Nose.
First off, the white’s had his name wrong. He was given the Indian name by his people, Woqini, (Arched Nose or Hooked Nose.) It was the white’s who interpreted it as Roman Nose. Anyway, the name stuck. He was a giant of a man, he stood well over six feet tall, and was an imposing figure on the battlefield who literally struck fear into the hearts of his enemies with his straight, in your face style of battle. He conducted himself in battle to such a high degree that the Generals in the U.S. military considered him the Chief of the entire Cheyenne nation.
Contrary to popular belief, Roman Nose never was a Chief, a dog soldier, or the leader of any of the Cheyenne military societies. He was however, known to all as one of the greatest Cheyenne warriors to ever live and the greatest leader during any and all combat situations.
Roman Nose was driven by his hatred of the white man, and the U.S. Government in particular for breaking the treaties they had signed with his people in the mid-1860’s. Following the Sand Creek Massacre on November 29th, 1864 where some four hundred Indians, mostly older men, women, and children were brutally slaughtered by a group of renegade, U.S. soldiers led by Colonel John Chivington, Roman Nose began his retaliatory attacks against any white settlements he came across along the Platte valley of southwestern Nebraska, western Kansas, and eastern Colorado. Native American author and physician, Charles Eastman, once wrote of Roman Nose, “Perhaps no other warrior attacked more emigrants along the Oregon Trail between 1864 and 1868.”
Some spoke of him as being arrogant and flamboyant. Other’s described him as simply brutal in nature. In April, 1867 General Winfield Hancock sent word to the Cheyenne that he wanted to talk. They sent Roman Nose to Fort Larned to conduct the talks with the white General. Roman Nose arrived at this meeting wearing the uniform of a General in the U.S. military. He had a Spencer carbine rifle hanging from his saddle, four Navy revolvers stuck in his belt, a knife strapped to both of his legs, and a bow, already strung with arrows in his left hand. He started the talks with a simple demand, “talk.” The General knew right then, Roman Nose wouldn’t be intimidated and it didn’t matter to him one way or the other whether they talked or they fought.
Meanwhile, back at their campsite along the Republican River, Lieutenant Forsyth was well aware of the stories surrounding, Roman Nose. He was also aware of the fact that, Roman Nose was among the War Party they were planning to engage in the morning.
About an hour after they had eaten, Forsyth gathered his men to inform them of their situation. The forward scouts had just returned and reported seeing as many as 150 Indian warriors camped in a ravine about a half a mile west of their position. He explained to them they were probably going to be outnumbered by at least three to one. With that in mind his plan was to catch them off guard while they were still sleeping. He told his men to have their horses saddled and to be ready to head out by 4:00 the next morning. He told them to make sure their guns were in good working order and to get as much rest as they could.
He rode out to visit with the sentries he had posted along the hills surrounding their camp to make sure they understood what their job was. He instructed each man to fire a single shot if he saw or heard any kind of movement. He stressed that he only wanted the shot to come from the direction of that movement. In case of a surprise attack, he wanted to be able to tell exactly where it was coming from. He reminded them that the lives of every single member of their party depended on them, and one by one, he asked each of them if they were still up to it. He reminded them they had all volunteered for this job but told them if they wanted to back out he would understand and wouldn’t think any less of them because of it. Every one of them had their own reasons but they all agreed to stay and fight.
As Forsyth rode back to camp he thought of the battle that lay ahead. He thought of other battles he‘d been involved in over the years. He had been outnumbered before and had always been able to prevail. He was sure he had chosen good men who be counted on and they were very well armed. Still, he had a bad feeling about this one.
Kevin McGinty
We talked about Lieutenant Forsyth leading a group of fifty-one men in search of a band renegade Indians. Forsyth and his men had caught up the Indians they had been pursuing on the afternoon of September 17th, 1868 just west of Fort Wallace, which was located in the westernmost part of the Kansas territory. In order to rest his men, Forsyth ordered them to make camp in a small valley along the Republican River early that evening, and Forsyth and his second in command, Lieutenant Fredrick H. Beecher had retreated to their tent to plan their next move and to await their date with destiny.
Alright then, today we’re going to talk about one of the main players they were going up against, Cheyenne Chief, Roman Nose.
First off, the white’s had his name wrong. He was given the Indian name by his people, Woqini, (Arched Nose or Hooked Nose.) It was the white’s who interpreted it as Roman Nose. Anyway, the name stuck. He was a giant of a man, he stood well over six feet tall, and was an imposing figure on the battlefield who literally struck fear into the hearts of his enemies with his straight, in your face style of battle. He conducted himself in battle to such a high degree that the Generals in the U.S. military considered him the Chief of the entire Cheyenne nation.
Contrary to popular belief, Roman Nose never was a Chief, a dog soldier, or the leader of any of the Cheyenne military societies. He was however, known to all as one of the greatest Cheyenne warriors to ever live and the greatest leader during any and all combat situations.
Roman Nose was driven by his hatred of the white man, and the U.S. Government in particular for breaking the treaties they had signed with his people in the mid-1860’s. Following the Sand Creek Massacre on November 29th, 1864 where some four hundred Indians, mostly older men, women, and children were brutally slaughtered by a group of renegade, U.S. soldiers led by Colonel John Chivington, Roman Nose began his retaliatory attacks against any white settlements he came across along the Platte valley of southwestern Nebraska, western Kansas, and eastern Colorado. Native American author and physician, Charles Eastman, once wrote of Roman Nose, “Perhaps no other warrior attacked more emigrants along the Oregon Trail between 1864 and 1868.”
Some spoke of him as being arrogant and flamboyant. Other’s described him as simply brutal in nature. In April, 1867 General Winfield Hancock sent word to the Cheyenne that he wanted to talk. They sent Roman Nose to Fort Larned to conduct the talks with the white General. Roman Nose arrived at this meeting wearing the uniform of a General in the U.S. military. He had a Spencer carbine rifle hanging from his saddle, four Navy revolvers stuck in his belt, a knife strapped to both of his legs, and a bow, already strung with arrows in his left hand. He started the talks with a simple demand, “talk.” The General knew right then, Roman Nose wouldn’t be intimidated and it didn’t matter to him one way or the other whether they talked or they fought.
Meanwhile, back at their campsite along the Republican River, Lieutenant Forsyth was well aware of the stories surrounding, Roman Nose. He was also aware of the fact that, Roman Nose was among the War Party they were planning to engage in the morning.
About an hour after they had eaten, Forsyth gathered his men to inform them of their situation. The forward scouts had just returned and reported seeing as many as 150 Indian warriors camped in a ravine about a half a mile west of their position. He explained to them they were probably going to be outnumbered by at least three to one. With that in mind his plan was to catch them off guard while they were still sleeping. He told his men to have their horses saddled and to be ready to head out by 4:00 the next morning. He told them to make sure their guns were in good working order and to get as much rest as they could.
He rode out to visit with the sentries he had posted along the hills surrounding their camp to make sure they understood what their job was. He instructed each man to fire a single shot if he saw or heard any kind of movement. He stressed that he only wanted the shot to come from the direction of that movement. In case of a surprise attack, he wanted to be able to tell exactly where it was coming from. He reminded them that the lives of every single member of their party depended on them, and one by one, he asked each of them if they were still up to it. He reminded them they had all volunteered for this job but told them if they wanted to back out he would understand and wouldn’t think any less of them because of it. Every one of them had their own reasons but they all agreed to stay and fight.
As Forsyth rode back to camp he thought of the battle that lay ahead. He thought of other battles he‘d been involved in over the years. He had been outnumbered before and had always been able to prevail. He was sure he had chosen good men who be counted on and they were very well armed. Still, he had a bad feeling about this one.
Kevin McGinty
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Beecher Island: Part One...
I know, let’s talk some more politics today. Ah, just kidding. Actually, I’ve got a really cool story to tell about a road-trip I took a while back.
I know, this is an old story and some of you have already read it. Hopefully, some of you out there haven’t seen it yet and find it interesting enough to follow along. Here’s the deal, I’ve always been interested in history, especially the mid-1800’s. It was a time of great change in our country. But it was also a time of incredible danger.
This is a story about a place in the far, north-eastern corner of Colorado called “Beecher Island,” and in order to do the story any kind of justice at all, I’m probably going to have to spread it out over the next three or four installments. Maybe five. Besides, I’m sure by now, some of you have grown tired of me going on and on about Obama and his liberal friends anyway. How about it, you ready to take a step back in time?
Beecher Island is the site of one of the fiercest battles between the Plains Indians and elements of the 7th Cavalry during the time America was expanding westward. And just for the record, I’m not telling this story to take sides between the whites and the Indians either. I’m just telling the story the way it happened. Nothing more. Nothing less.
It was the summer of 1868. General, Phillip Sheridan was becoming frustrated by his 7th Cavalry’s inability to stop the ongoing, brutal attacks against white settlers by the Indian tribes of the western plains. He decided the best way to combat this problem was to form smaller, well-equipped (I’ll get to the well-equipped part in another column) detachments of civilian volunteers to pursue and punish these tribes whenever and wherever they found them. He reasoned it would be easier for a smaller detachment on horses to move around than it would be for an entire Cavalry unit. In August of 1868, he appointed Lieutenant, George Forsyth to head up just such a detachment.
Lieutenant, Forsyth was stationed at Fort Hays at the time. He put the word out and before long he had signed up fifty-one men willing to join him in this fight. Many of the men who volunteered had been victims of earlier Indian attacks themselves. Some had lost loved one’s or good friends and were looking for revenge. In just a short time they were ready and headed west along the trade routes looking for signs of any marauding Indians they could find.
Forsyth and his men reached Fort Wallace late in the afternoon of September, 14th. The Governor of Colorado had sent word to the commander of the fort that there had been another brutal attack in eastern Colorado. Seventy-nine men, women, and children had been slaughtered over the course of the last few days and they were looking for any kind of help they could get.
The group of volunteers from Fort Hays were on their way early the next morning. It wasn’t long before Forsyth’s scouts picked up what seemed to be fresh tracks of a huge band of Indians. They followed the tracks late into the evening.
They got an early start the next morning, Sept.16th, and by that afternoon they had caught a glimpse or two of the Indians they had been pursuing. Because of the distance and the rugged landscape of the prairie, Forsyth and his men couldn’t tell exactly how many Indians they preparing up against. But he did know, he and his men were woefully outnumbered. He also knew the Indians were well aware of the fact they were being followed, so the element of surprise he had hoped for was gone.
He needed time to plan his next move. And he knew his men needed to rest, so he ordered them to make camp where they were. He gave them extra provisions that evening. He figured they were camped in a good spot. They were in a small valley just a few hundred yards north of the Republican River. There were hills to the north and south of their position. He posted extra men on top of these hills to guard against a surprise attack.
Under a bright, moon lit sky, that night, the men ate till they were full for a change. Afterwards, they broke up into small groups. Some of them talked nervously about the battle that was sure to come in the morning. Some of them used the time to clean their guns and check their ammunition supplies. Who knows, some of them probably even said a prayer or two.
Lieutenant, Forsyth and his second in command, Lieutenant, Frederick H. Beecher retreated to their tent to make their plans. And I’d be willing to bet that they too might have said a silent prayer themselves. For tomorrow they’d more than likely meet their destiny.
I know, this is an old story and some of you have already read it. Hopefully, some of you out there haven’t seen it yet and find it interesting enough to follow along. Here’s the deal, I’ve always been interested in history, especially the mid-1800’s. It was a time of great change in our country. But it was also a time of incredible danger.
This is a story about a place in the far, north-eastern corner of Colorado called “Beecher Island,” and in order to do the story any kind of justice at all, I’m probably going to have to spread it out over the next three or four installments. Maybe five. Besides, I’m sure by now, some of you have grown tired of me going on and on about Obama and his liberal friends anyway. How about it, you ready to take a step back in time?
Beecher Island is the site of one of the fiercest battles between the Plains Indians and elements of the 7th Cavalry during the time America was expanding westward. And just for the record, I’m not telling this story to take sides between the whites and the Indians either. I’m just telling the story the way it happened. Nothing more. Nothing less.
It was the summer of 1868. General, Phillip Sheridan was becoming frustrated by his 7th Cavalry’s inability to stop the ongoing, brutal attacks against white settlers by the Indian tribes of the western plains. He decided the best way to combat this problem was to form smaller, well-equipped (I’ll get to the well-equipped part in another column) detachments of civilian volunteers to pursue and punish these tribes whenever and wherever they found them. He reasoned it would be easier for a smaller detachment on horses to move around than it would be for an entire Cavalry unit. In August of 1868, he appointed Lieutenant, George Forsyth to head up just such a detachment.
Lieutenant, Forsyth was stationed at Fort Hays at the time. He put the word out and before long he had signed up fifty-one men willing to join him in this fight. Many of the men who volunteered had been victims of earlier Indian attacks themselves. Some had lost loved one’s or good friends and were looking for revenge. In just a short time they were ready and headed west along the trade routes looking for signs of any marauding Indians they could find.
Forsyth and his men reached Fort Wallace late in the afternoon of September, 14th. The Governor of Colorado had sent word to the commander of the fort that there had been another brutal attack in eastern Colorado. Seventy-nine men, women, and children had been slaughtered over the course of the last few days and they were looking for any kind of help they could get.
The group of volunteers from Fort Hays were on their way early the next morning. It wasn’t long before Forsyth’s scouts picked up what seemed to be fresh tracks of a huge band of Indians. They followed the tracks late into the evening.
They got an early start the next morning, Sept.16th, and by that afternoon they had caught a glimpse or two of the Indians they had been pursuing. Because of the distance and the rugged landscape of the prairie, Forsyth and his men couldn’t tell exactly how many Indians they preparing up against. But he did know, he and his men were woefully outnumbered. He also knew the Indians were well aware of the fact they were being followed, so the element of surprise he had hoped for was gone.
He needed time to plan his next move. And he knew his men needed to rest, so he ordered them to make camp where they were. He gave them extra provisions that evening. He figured they were camped in a good spot. They were in a small valley just a few hundred yards north of the Republican River. There were hills to the north and south of their position. He posted extra men on top of these hills to guard against a surprise attack.
Under a bright, moon lit sky, that night, the men ate till they were full for a change. Afterwards, they broke up into small groups. Some of them talked nervously about the battle that was sure to come in the morning. Some of them used the time to clean their guns and check their ammunition supplies. Who knows, some of them probably even said a prayer or two.
Lieutenant, Forsyth and his second in command, Lieutenant, Frederick H. Beecher retreated to their tent to make their plans. And I’d be willing to bet that they too might have said a silent prayer themselves. For tomorrow they’d more than likely meet their destiny.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Just Getting Started...
"The American people will never knowingly adopt Socialism. But under the name of "liberalism" they will adopt every fragment of the socialist program, until one day America will become a socialist nation, without knowing how it happened." (Norman Thomas, former U.S. Socialist Presidential Candidate, 1948.)
Yeah, the American people, Massachusetts Tea-Baggers, if you will, have spoken loud and clear. And we're coming after the rest of you in November.
Got it? Good...
Yeah, the American people, Massachusetts Tea-Baggers, if you will, have spoken loud and clear. And we're coming after the rest of you in November.
Got it? Good...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
How Do You Like Us Now...
You said it didn’t matter in West Virginia. You said it wasn’t that big a deal in New Jersey. You wouldn’t listen during last summer’s town hall meetings. You said they were just a loud, insignificant, bunch of racist tea-baggers who nobody’s paying attention to anyway.
You did your best to downplay the tea-party rallies that began springing up all across the nation. When a million-plus converged in Washington, you said it was just a, Fox News generated fad. One that will soon pass.
Last night, The American people said in one, crystal-clear, united, voice. We’ve had enough.
We’ve had enough of the lies. We’ve had enough of the corruption, bribes, and special backroom deals that have become the norm for the, Obama administration. And we’ve had enough of your socialism. This is America. Not Europe.
So… How do you like us now?
How do you like the fact that those ignorant, tea-baggers have fired the first shot of the second American Revolution from the same place the first one started? Kind of fitting, if you ask me.
One last thought: I’ve listened to you guys say this for the last year and thought it was only fitting to include it in my own thoughts today.
We won. Get over it…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
You did your best to downplay the tea-party rallies that began springing up all across the nation. When a million-plus converged in Washington, you said it was just a, Fox News generated fad. One that will soon pass.
Last night, The American people said in one, crystal-clear, united, voice. We’ve had enough.
We’ve had enough of the lies. We’ve had enough of the corruption, bribes, and special backroom deals that have become the norm for the, Obama administration. And we’ve had enough of your socialism. This is America. Not Europe.
So… How do you like us now?
How do you like the fact that those ignorant, tea-baggers have fired the first shot of the second American Revolution from the same place the first one started? Kind of fitting, if you ask me.
One last thought: I’ve listened to you guys say this for the last year and thought it was only fitting to include it in my own thoughts today.
We won. Get over it…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Monday, January 18, 2010
The People's Seat...
“With all due respect, it’s not The Kennedy Seat. It’s the people’s Seat.” That response by, Scott Brown ranks right up there with the best of the best.
Yeah, that’s the guy I want. The guy who can shut down the debate simply by stating facts. And he did it all without hurling a single insult. What a concept.
They say if Brown can pull this election in Massachusetts, it’ll be one of the biggest political upsets of all time. Even Fox News acts surprised at the possibility. Why would that surprise anyone?
Here’s the deal and it’s really not all that complicated. You know those ignorant, tea-baggers. The one’s the left tried so hard to marginalize. Guess what. The tea-baggers aren‘t going anywhere and they’re just getting started. Let me explain who these tea-baggers really are.
We might be the guy who fixes your furnace or the cop down the street. We might have been your waitress during lunch today. Might have been the guy who cooked it too. We’re teachers, doctors, and lawyers. We’re truck drivers and airline pilots. Maybe we’re the guys who pick up your trash or the one who decides whether you get that loan or not. We’re politicians and preachers. Brick layers, and carpenters. We’re farmers and ranchers and oil-field workers too. We’re the people who actually do stuff instead of just reading about it.
We’re black and white, young and old. We’re moms and dads, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. We’re Republican, Democrat, and Independents all rolled up into one. The one thing we all have in common is this. We’re the American people. And the American people don’t like being pushed around. We don’t take kindly to being threatened or called names by anybody.
We bought into the Hope and Change promises, Obama made. We trusted him, so we elected him. Now we regret it, and we’re here to do something about it.
What the lunatics underestimated was the fact that the American people kind of like that little thing called freedom. You see, we’re willing to fight for it. And it starts Tuesday, January 19, 2010 in the Democrat stronghold of Massachusetts.
But then again, I could be wrong. Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Yeah, that’s the guy I want. The guy who can shut down the debate simply by stating facts. And he did it all without hurling a single insult. What a concept.
They say if Brown can pull this election in Massachusetts, it’ll be one of the biggest political upsets of all time. Even Fox News acts surprised at the possibility. Why would that surprise anyone?
Here’s the deal and it’s really not all that complicated. You know those ignorant, tea-baggers. The one’s the left tried so hard to marginalize. Guess what. The tea-baggers aren‘t going anywhere and they’re just getting started. Let me explain who these tea-baggers really are.
We might be the guy who fixes your furnace or the cop down the street. We might have been your waitress during lunch today. Might have been the guy who cooked it too. We’re teachers, doctors, and lawyers. We’re truck drivers and airline pilots. Maybe we’re the guys who pick up your trash or the one who decides whether you get that loan or not. We’re politicians and preachers. Brick layers, and carpenters. We’re farmers and ranchers and oil-field workers too. We’re the people who actually do stuff instead of just reading about it.
We’re black and white, young and old. We’re moms and dads, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. We’re Republican, Democrat, and Independents all rolled up into one. The one thing we all have in common is this. We’re the American people. And the American people don’t like being pushed around. We don’t take kindly to being threatened or called names by anybody.
We bought into the Hope and Change promises, Obama made. We trusted him, so we elected him. Now we regret it, and we’re here to do something about it.
What the lunatics underestimated was the fact that the American people kind of like that little thing called freedom. You see, we’re willing to fight for it. And it starts Tuesday, January 19, 2010 in the Democrat stronghold of Massachusetts.
But then again, I could be wrong. Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Oh hi...
Last week, Pat Robertson, the holy rollin’ founder of The 700 Club, made a fool of himself few days ago by claiming Haitian leaders had made a deal with the Devil and as a result is now a cursed nation. And that was what brought the earthquake to their country.
Then just a day or so days later, ultra-liberal, America- hating, Hollywood actor, Danny Glover blamed the whole thing on global-warming. He told us that the earthquake was a result of the world not to reach an agreement in Copenhagen.
So, who’s the crazy one here? The right-wing extremist or the left-wing extremist?
Sorry, I got sidetracked. What I really wanted to talk about today was the special election taking place Tuesday in the liberal stronghold state of, Massachusetts.
Stop by tomorrow. I want to talk what this election means to the Democrats and all they hold dear.
We’ll probably start out by talking a little bit about those redneck, tea-baggers. You know the one’s. They’re the one’s the liberals have mocked and ridiculed. They’re the same one’s who are going to take this country back. And believe me when I say a, Scott Brown win Tuesday will be huge.
With all due respect. It’s not, The Kennedy Seat. It’s the People’s Seat. What a great line.
Freedom of Speech. Don’t take it for granted…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Then just a day or so days later, ultra-liberal, America- hating, Hollywood actor, Danny Glover blamed the whole thing on global-warming. He told us that the earthquake was a result of the world not to reach an agreement in Copenhagen.
So, who’s the crazy one here? The right-wing extremist or the left-wing extremist?
Sorry, I got sidetracked. What I really wanted to talk about today was the special election taking place Tuesday in the liberal stronghold state of, Massachusetts.
Stop by tomorrow. I want to talk what this election means to the Democrats and all they hold dear.
We’ll probably start out by talking a little bit about those redneck, tea-baggers. You know the one’s. They’re the one’s the liberals have mocked and ridiculed. They’re the same one’s who are going to take this country back. And believe me when I say a, Scott Brown win Tuesday will be huge.
With all due respect. It’s not, The Kennedy Seat. It’s the People’s Seat. What a great line.
Freedom of Speech. Don’t take it for granted…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 16, 2010
I've Figured It Out...
First you hear them honking. They’re usually pretty far away and it’s hard to tell exactly which direction they’re coming in from. Then you spot the first of them and here they come.
We’ve all see those flocks of geese flying overhead. I love it when I get a chance to see multiple flocks at one time. It’s amazing that birds that large can be so graceful.
I understand about the V formation they always use. They rotate from front to back to front. The geese in the back can rest up by riding the air currents of their partners. Pretty cool.
But have you ever noticed that one side of their V formation is always longer than the other?
It’s not like I sit around worrying about it but I’ve always kind of wondered why, I guess. Anyway, I was on my way home from western Kansas yesterday when it hit me. Yep, I figured it out.
Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
We’ve all see those flocks of geese flying overhead. I love it when I get a chance to see multiple flocks at one time. It’s amazing that birds that large can be so graceful.
I understand about the V formation they always use. They rotate from front to back to front. The geese in the back can rest up by riding the air currents of their partners. Pretty cool.
But have you ever noticed that one side of their V formation is always longer than the other?
It’s not like I sit around worrying about it but I’ve always kind of wondered why, I guess. Anyway, I was on my way home from western Kansas yesterday when it hit me. Yep, I figured it out.
Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Friday, January 15, 2010
Fair Trial
In your opinion, why shouldn't the man who killed, George Tiller, Scott Roeder be allowed to use the immenent threat defense?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Very Important, Not That Important, or Not Sure...
Yeah I know, Glenn Beck’s a liar, a cheat, a fraud, or whatever name you can think of to call him. And like always, his critics are so busy launching personal attacks they never really get around to the issues he brings up. It’s almost like there’s a pattern here. Weird.
Yesterday he brought up a recent survey that asked how important some of our basic rights were. There were three possible answers to choose from. Very Important, Not That Important, and Not Sure.
Very Important The Rest
The right to speak freely: 70% 30%
The right to assemble: 65% 35%
The right to worship or not to: 60% 40%
The right to privacy: 60% 40%
The right to bear arms: 45% 55%
The right to a fair trial: 70% 30%
Protection from unreasonable search and seizure: 60% 40%
How can any of these questions not be 100% Very Important? What’s happened to us?
And how in the world can anyone Not Be Sure? How can you not understand how important these rights are. These rights are the essence of what makes America, America. You know, the whole Land Of The Free thing.
And if you do understand what our rights are but for some reason, believe they’re Not That Important, well, you’re an idiot, and I don’t know how else to call it. Sorry.
Yeah, that Glenn Beck’s crazy alright…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Yesterday he brought up a recent survey that asked how important some of our basic rights were. There were three possible answers to choose from. Very Important, Not That Important, and Not Sure.
Very Important The Rest
The right to speak freely: 70% 30%
The right to assemble: 65% 35%
The right to worship or not to: 60% 40%
The right to privacy: 60% 40%
The right to bear arms: 45% 55%
The right to a fair trial: 70% 30%
Protection from unreasonable search and seizure: 60% 40%
How can any of these questions not be 100% Very Important? What’s happened to us?
And how in the world can anyone Not Be Sure? How can you not understand how important these rights are. These rights are the essence of what makes America, America. You know, the whole Land Of The Free thing.
And if you do understand what our rights are but for some reason, believe they’re Not That Important, well, you’re an idiot, and I don’t know how else to call it. Sorry.
Yeah, that Glenn Beck’s crazy alright…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
A Test From The Underground Bunker
Question: What’s a liberal hate more than Fox News?
Answer: Sarah Palin.
Question: What’s a liberal hate more than Sarah Palin teaming up with Fox News?
Answer: Nothing. Hehehe…
Answer: Sarah Palin.
Question: What’s a liberal hate more than Sarah Palin teaming up with Fox News?
Answer: Nothing. Hehehe…
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Bunker #2...
Testing, testing, one, two, three, testing. Is anybody out there? Testing.
Oh there you are. I was just doing a systems check. Today and probably from now on I’ll be reporting from my new, secret, underground bunker. And I owe it all to a guy who calls into Raubin and Megan’s On the Other Hand show. He calls in to give his reports from his own bunker. I can’t remember his name, and if anybody out there knows it, please let me know. I’d like to give him proper credit for showing me the way.
Anyway, this guy’s my inspiration. He’s made me realize, I’m not the only one. There are others. Other’s who believe as I do. Other’s who see as I see, and feel as I feel. Yeah, I stole that right out of the movie, “V For Vendetta” sue me.
Sorry, the place is a mess. I’m still working on it. We just finished with the blast-proof door and window yesterday. The ventilation and climate control systems are a go. Communication systems are all working properly and I’m well stocked with food. And I’ve carefully lined the walls, the floor, and ceiling with extra heavy duty tin foil, to. You can’t be too careful. The only project left, and I’ll need more tin foil to finish it. I still need a tin foil hat. Because, well, that’s what extremists do. LMAO.
So without further ado from bunker #2, let’s talk about what’s so bad about communism. I’ll go first.
Last week one of my new cj friend’s challenged me to explain what was so bad about communism. Wow, it astounds me to think it even has to be explained in the first place. But he did ask.
Let’s just touch the left’s all time favorite communist dictator, Chairman Mao Tse-Tung. Here’s a quote from the dictator himself.
“In out great motherland, a new era is emerging in which the workers, peasants, and soldiers are grasping Marxism-Leninism, Mao Tse-Tung’s thought. Once these thoughts are grasped by the masses, it becomes an inexhaustible source of strength and a spiritual atom bomb of infinite power. It is our hope that all comrades will learn earnestly and diligently, bring about a new nation-wide high tide in the creative study and application of Chairman Mao works and, under the great red banner of Mao Tse-Tung’s thought, strive to build our country into a great socialist state with modern agriculture, modern industry, modern science, and a modern national defense. Sounds like the perfect, Communist/Marxist/Socialist, utopia. He must have really cared.”
Results: 70 million Chinese men, women, and children brutally murdered or starved to death during his rein. And in a nutshell, my friends, that’s what’s so bad about Communism.
Hope all is well with you and yours and I’ll talk to you later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Oh there you are. I was just doing a systems check. Today and probably from now on I’ll be reporting from my new, secret, underground bunker. And I owe it all to a guy who calls into Raubin and Megan’s On the Other Hand show. He calls in to give his reports from his own bunker. I can’t remember his name, and if anybody out there knows it, please let me know. I’d like to give him proper credit for showing me the way.
Anyway, this guy’s my inspiration. He’s made me realize, I’m not the only one. There are others. Other’s who believe as I do. Other’s who see as I see, and feel as I feel. Yeah, I stole that right out of the movie, “V For Vendetta” sue me.
Sorry, the place is a mess. I’m still working on it. We just finished with the blast-proof door and window yesterday. The ventilation and climate control systems are a go. Communication systems are all working properly and I’m well stocked with food. And I’ve carefully lined the walls, the floor, and ceiling with extra heavy duty tin foil, to. You can’t be too careful. The only project left, and I’ll need more tin foil to finish it. I still need a tin foil hat. Because, well, that’s what extremists do. LMAO.
So without further ado from bunker #2, let’s talk about what’s so bad about communism. I’ll go first.
Last week one of my new cj friend’s challenged me to explain what was so bad about communism. Wow, it astounds me to think it even has to be explained in the first place. But he did ask.
Let’s just touch the left’s all time favorite communist dictator, Chairman Mao Tse-Tung. Here’s a quote from the dictator himself.
“In out great motherland, a new era is emerging in which the workers, peasants, and soldiers are grasping Marxism-Leninism, Mao Tse-Tung’s thought. Once these thoughts are grasped by the masses, it becomes an inexhaustible source of strength and a spiritual atom bomb of infinite power. It is our hope that all comrades will learn earnestly and diligently, bring about a new nation-wide high tide in the creative study and application of Chairman Mao works and, under the great red banner of Mao Tse-Tung’s thought, strive to build our country into a great socialist state with modern agriculture, modern industry, modern science, and a modern national defense. Sounds like the perfect, Communist/Marxist/Socialist, utopia. He must have really cared.”
Results: 70 million Chinese men, women, and children brutally murdered or starved to death during his rein. And in a nutshell, my friends, that’s what’s so bad about Communism.
Hope all is well with you and yours and I’ll talk to you later…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Dear Bobby...
Dang, Bobby. What’s you problem anyway, man? Why are you so full of rage? And what good do you think calling me a bunch of stupid names and making up wild, deranged stories is going to do you anyway?
First off, and yes, we’ve talked about it before. Listen up, I’m being serious. The whole calling me a “wing nut” thing. Sorry, man, that just doesn‘t bother. About the same as calling someone a bolt. It just doesn’t make sense. Again, I’m sorry, man, it just doesn’t offend me.
In one of you last posts, you called me a pathetic, wing nut, then said I was the “ijit” (what exactly is an ijit) who insists on all babies being born only so I can raise them until they’re old enough to be lethally injected so I can write the companion piece about how much it costs to keep them in prison. Where in the world did you get all that? It sure wasn’t from anything I’ve ever written.
Bobby, you have no idea who I am. Other than what I’ve written, you know nothing about me. Yet you hate me. You seem to hate everyone who disagrees with you with a passion. How’s that work? Or is it that you’re trying to impress your buddies. Maybe you’re just trying to show everybody how tough you are. I know, you and your like minded buddies like to yuk it up any time you get the chance to gang up on somebody because they disagree with you.
Here’s the deal, Bobby. I know what you’re trying to do. It’s the same tactic you guys all use. You rant and rave, call us a bunch of stupid names. You’ll use any means you think is necessary, including lying and slandering to discredit anyone who disagrees with you. You yell and scream some of the most vile, disgusting things ever said. And somehow you believe if you keep it up long enough, we’ll shut up.
Sorry, man. But it’s not going to happen here. And I’m not just talking about this blog either. I’m talking about the sleeping giant (call us tea-baggers if you will) your side has awoken with all your crap. Maybe there was a time your tactics worked but, my friend, that ship has already sailed.
Yeah, call us tea-baggers. Call us hicks, rednecks, hillbillies, uneducated freaks, religious zealots, racists, flat-earthers, or deniers all you want. It just makes you look little and I won’t be dragged down to your level.
Other than that, have a good, man…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
First off, and yes, we’ve talked about it before. Listen up, I’m being serious. The whole calling me a “wing nut” thing. Sorry, man, that just doesn‘t bother. About the same as calling someone a bolt. It just doesn’t make sense. Again, I’m sorry, man, it just doesn’t offend me.
In one of you last posts, you called me a pathetic, wing nut, then said I was the “ijit” (what exactly is an ijit) who insists on all babies being born only so I can raise them until they’re old enough to be lethally injected so I can write the companion piece about how much it costs to keep them in prison. Where in the world did you get all that? It sure wasn’t from anything I’ve ever written.
Bobby, you have no idea who I am. Other than what I’ve written, you know nothing about me. Yet you hate me. You seem to hate everyone who disagrees with you with a passion. How’s that work? Or is it that you’re trying to impress your buddies. Maybe you’re just trying to show everybody how tough you are. I know, you and your like minded buddies like to yuk it up any time you get the chance to gang up on somebody because they disagree with you.
Here’s the deal, Bobby. I know what you’re trying to do. It’s the same tactic you guys all use. You rant and rave, call us a bunch of stupid names. You’ll use any means you think is necessary, including lying and slandering to discredit anyone who disagrees with you. You yell and scream some of the most vile, disgusting things ever said. And somehow you believe if you keep it up long enough, we’ll shut up.
Sorry, man. But it’s not going to happen here. And I’m not just talking about this blog either. I’m talking about the sleeping giant (call us tea-baggers if you will) your side has awoken with all your crap. Maybe there was a time your tactics worked but, my friend, that ship has already sailed.
Yeah, call us tea-baggers. Call us hicks, rednecks, hillbillies, uneducated freaks, religious zealots, racists, flat-earthers, or deniers all you want. It just makes you look little and I won’t be dragged down to your level.
Other than that, have a good, man…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Bo
Please don’t be sad mommy, it’ll be okay. Whatever it is, we can get through it together. Hey, we’re going to see the doctor tomorrow. That‘s always fun. I love the sonograms because it shows us how big I’m getting. Last time we were there I heard the doctor say I was a perfectly formed little boy. He said I had all my fingers and toes. That’s good news, isn’t it? I heard him saying something about time was running out to decide though. I’ll bet he was talking about it being time to name me. You haven’t mentioned it so I’m thinking maybe you haven’t made up your mind yet. I’ve got a couple suggestions. How about John Wayne? That would be cool mommy. It would come in handy when you buy me my first pair of cowboy boots. Maybe Einstein. I might not be as smart as him but I bet I‘m pretty close mommy. Maybe Superman or Zoro, yeah, that‘d be cool. Hey, I know, how about naming me Bo. I like that name.
Mommy, I heard a man talking about this being a bad time. What did he mean, mommy? This is going to be a great time. You’ll see. I can hardly wait till you can hold me for the first time. And the first time our eyes meet is going to be something special, I promise. You’re going to love the way I run to you for comfort. There’s no safer place than in your mother’s arms. I’m going to need a lot of help learning to walk. They tell me it’s pretty hard. With your help, we‘ll figure it out, you’ll see.
It’s going to break my heart when I have to go to kindergarten. But that’s the only way I can learn to read. I can’t wait to read you a bedtime story for a change mommy. Will you teach me how to play baseball? I heard it was fun. Will we go to Gage Park? Teach me about the monkeys mommy. I think they’re funny. How about my first bike, will you help me learn how to ride it mommy? I think I’d like to play the guitar. Can you teach me how. I hope you name me Bo. I really think it’s a cool name. Mommy and Bo. We’ll make a great team, you’ll see.
Mommy, I heard that man talking about time being up. Didn’t you tell him we’d decided to name me Bo? Tell him mommy. I don’t like that man, mommy, he makes you cry. When I get big I‘ll never make you sad mommy, I promise. You’ll see.
Mommy, I heard you and that man talking about a new doctor. Is that why you’re sad? Are you afraid? Don’t be. We’ll get through this together. You’ll see. I promise to behave myself if that’s what you’re worried about. I want to make a good impression on our new doctor too. Mommy, I’m getting sleepy. Don’t worry, I won’t forget to say my prayers.
Now I lay me, down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mommy and Bo. Wake me up when we get to the new doctor.
Mommy, that new doctor scares me. He’s not nice like our other one, he scares me mommy. Please, let’s go home. Mommy, he’s hurting me! Mommy, he’s pulling on my arm with something. Mommy, mommy, please help me! Mommy, he’s poking me in the head with something. Mommy I’m scared, please make him stop! Please make him stop, mo…
All Bo wanted was the right to live. What's so bad about that? Please choose life.
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Mommy, I heard a man talking about this being a bad time. What did he mean, mommy? This is going to be a great time. You’ll see. I can hardly wait till you can hold me for the first time. And the first time our eyes meet is going to be something special, I promise. You’re going to love the way I run to you for comfort. There’s no safer place than in your mother’s arms. I’m going to need a lot of help learning to walk. They tell me it’s pretty hard. With your help, we‘ll figure it out, you’ll see.
It’s going to break my heart when I have to go to kindergarten. But that’s the only way I can learn to read. I can’t wait to read you a bedtime story for a change mommy. Will you teach me how to play baseball? I heard it was fun. Will we go to Gage Park? Teach me about the monkeys mommy. I think they’re funny. How about my first bike, will you help me learn how to ride it mommy? I think I’d like to play the guitar. Can you teach me how. I hope you name me Bo. I really think it’s a cool name. Mommy and Bo. We’ll make a great team, you’ll see.
Mommy, I heard that man talking about time being up. Didn’t you tell him we’d decided to name me Bo? Tell him mommy. I don’t like that man, mommy, he makes you cry. When I get big I‘ll never make you sad mommy, I promise. You’ll see.
Mommy, I heard you and that man talking about a new doctor. Is that why you’re sad? Are you afraid? Don’t be. We’ll get through this together. You’ll see. I promise to behave myself if that’s what you’re worried about. I want to make a good impression on our new doctor too. Mommy, I’m getting sleepy. Don’t worry, I won’t forget to say my prayers.
Now I lay me, down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mommy and Bo. Wake me up when we get to the new doctor.
Mommy, that new doctor scares me. He’s not nice like our other one, he scares me mommy. Please, let’s go home. Mommy, he’s hurting me! Mommy, he’s pulling on my arm with something. Mommy, mommy, please help me! Mommy, he’s poking me in the head with something. Mommy I’m scared, please make him stop! Please make him stop, mo…
All Bo wanted was the right to live. What's so bad about that? Please choose life.
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Let Me Introduce Myself...
I’d like to throw a great big, well deserved, “shout out” out there to Dennis Moore and Laura Kelly for being among the first Democratic losers in the 2010 Congressional races.
Yeah I know, that was a cheap shot, some might even call it unfair. But come on, you know as well as I do that they (and many, many, more Democrats) have seen the writing on the wall. It’s a lot easier to make up some noble excuse why they're not running than it would be to face the humiliating defeats they know are coming their way in just eleven short months. I’m just saying, that's all.
I’m getting ahead of myself here. I probably ought to spend this week introducing myself and talking about some of the things we‘ll be discussing in this space. Some of you might be familiar with my column, “Room 235." I spent the last three years writing for the Topeka Metro News. Denise Hall recently sold the paper and the new owners figured they could get along just fine without me and kicked me to the curb. Anyway, now you’re stuck with me.
As you’ve probably figured out by now, I’ll be writing from a right-wing (common sense) point of view. I’ll do my best to be respectful and to avoid the name calling that’s so common nowadays. Well, I might slip every once in a while and call someone a left-wing loon. What can I say?
I oppose Obama and all he stands for, which apparently makes me an unpatriotic, ignorant redneck. Oh yeah, and a racist to boot. I mean, what other reason could there possibly be for someone not wanting his Socialist, Marxist, Communist, (or whatever it is) agenda to succeed?
The people who’ve whole-heartedly bought into the whole global-warming hysteria crack me up. I know, some of you guys are too young to remember it, but a lot of the same scientists that are telling us we’re all doomed today because of global-warming are the same one’s who told us global-cooling was going to kill us all back in the 60’s and 70’s. It was nothing but a scam way back then and it’s nothing but a scam today.
Having said that, I believe we all need to do our part to take care of our planet. It’s just common sense, it’s the only one we have. If there ever comes a time when those windmills or solar panels can generate enough electricity to replace our current coal-fired power plants, go for it. But until then, I really like being able to turn the lights on and being warm when I get home at night. Yeah, go ahead and call me a flat earther, and a denier all you want. For the record, I’m not the one looking stupid here.
I’m solid in my pro-life beliefs and make no apologies to anyone for them. Spin it any way you want, but in my mind, an abortion is the killing of a defenseless little baby who should have had just as much right to live as any of us. At the same time, I believe there should be an exception for victims of rape, incest, or if carrying the baby to term would do actual, physical harm to the mother. I get that.
I hated George Tiller because of what he did for a living. That doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. And I believe the man who killed him, Dennis Roeder should be allowed to use whatever defense he wants in order to justify his actions, but at the end of the day, he committed premeditated, first degree murder, plain and simple. And if that means he faces the death penalty, so be it.
I also believe if Kathleen Sebelius and others hadn’t spent so much of their time protecting him, Tiller's business would have been shut down for breaking Kansas laws against late-term abortions. Yeah, he’d be out of business, but he’d still be alive.
I’m a huge Sarah Palin supporter. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’d want her to be my president though. I watch Fox News and listen to Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Bill O’Reilly. But I’m not all that big on Shawn Hannity. In his mind, a Republican can do no wrong. Online, my favorite sources of information are the Drudge Report, Politico, The Hill, and The Weekly Standard. Yep, all right-wing sources and if that bothers you, well, that's your problem not mine.
And yes, I fully expect to be attacked by the liberals out there for stating my beliefs in this space. Because, well, that's what (this one's for you, Fred) those loving, tolerant, left-wing loons do best.
But here’s the deal, my beliefs put me in the same category as tens of millions other American’s on a daily basis and in my opinion, that’s pretty good company to be in. I’ll talk to you guys next week.
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
www.kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net
Yeah I know, that was a cheap shot, some might even call it unfair. But come on, you know as well as I do that they (and many, many, more Democrats) have seen the writing on the wall. It’s a lot easier to make up some noble excuse why they're not running than it would be to face the humiliating defeats they know are coming their way in just eleven short months. I’m just saying, that's all.
I’m getting ahead of myself here. I probably ought to spend this week introducing myself and talking about some of the things we‘ll be discussing in this space. Some of you might be familiar with my column, “Room 235." I spent the last three years writing for the Topeka Metro News. Denise Hall recently sold the paper and the new owners figured they could get along just fine without me and kicked me to the curb. Anyway, now you’re stuck with me.
As you’ve probably figured out by now, I’ll be writing from a right-wing (common sense) point of view. I’ll do my best to be respectful and to avoid the name calling that’s so common nowadays. Well, I might slip every once in a while and call someone a left-wing loon. What can I say?
I oppose Obama and all he stands for, which apparently makes me an unpatriotic, ignorant redneck. Oh yeah, and a racist to boot. I mean, what other reason could there possibly be for someone not wanting his Socialist, Marxist, Communist, (or whatever it is) agenda to succeed?
The people who’ve whole-heartedly bought into the whole global-warming hysteria crack me up. I know, some of you guys are too young to remember it, but a lot of the same scientists that are telling us we’re all doomed today because of global-warming are the same one’s who told us global-cooling was going to kill us all back in the 60’s and 70’s. It was nothing but a scam way back then and it’s nothing but a scam today.
Having said that, I believe we all need to do our part to take care of our planet. It’s just common sense, it’s the only one we have. If there ever comes a time when those windmills or solar panels can generate enough electricity to replace our current coal-fired power plants, go for it. But until then, I really like being able to turn the lights on and being warm when I get home at night. Yeah, go ahead and call me a flat earther, and a denier all you want. For the record, I’m not the one looking stupid here.
I’m solid in my pro-life beliefs and make no apologies to anyone for them. Spin it any way you want, but in my mind, an abortion is the killing of a defenseless little baby who should have had just as much right to live as any of us. At the same time, I believe there should be an exception for victims of rape, incest, or if carrying the baby to term would do actual, physical harm to the mother. I get that.
I hated George Tiller because of what he did for a living. That doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. And I believe the man who killed him, Dennis Roeder should be allowed to use whatever defense he wants in order to justify his actions, but at the end of the day, he committed premeditated, first degree murder, plain and simple. And if that means he faces the death penalty, so be it.
I also believe if Kathleen Sebelius and others hadn’t spent so much of their time protecting him, Tiller's business would have been shut down for breaking Kansas laws against late-term abortions. Yeah, he’d be out of business, but he’d still be alive.
I’m a huge Sarah Palin supporter. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’d want her to be my president though. I watch Fox News and listen to Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Bill O’Reilly. But I’m not all that big on Shawn Hannity. In his mind, a Republican can do no wrong. Online, my favorite sources of information are the Drudge Report, Politico, The Hill, and The Weekly Standard. Yep, all right-wing sources and if that bothers you, well, that's your problem not mine.
And yes, I fully expect to be attacked by the liberals out there for stating my beliefs in this space. Because, well, that's what (this one's for you, Fred) those loving, tolerant, left-wing loons do best.
But here’s the deal, my beliefs put me in the same category as tens of millions other American’s on a daily basis and in my opinion, that’s pretty good company to be in. I’ll talk to you guys next week.
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
www.kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Solo Expedition...
I haven't really talked about it much but every other weekend I usually head out by myself. It's usually the day I seek out new fis...
-
Have I ever told you about “Lone Duck“ campground? It’s in Cadorado. That’s how my grandson used to pronounce Colorado. You see, we’ve taken...
-
Imagine if you will, a world being run by insane people. Hell, you don't have to imagine it. Just look around. Just two short years ago ...
