Just for the record. I’m with most of you in opposing the bill that Joe Patton is pushing concerning what is and isn’t allowed in strip clubs. Personally, I think they have a few, more pressing concerns to worry about. And I agree with most of you when you say that if you don’t like what goes on in those places, then don’t go. But when you start chanting the tried and worn out, “we can’t legislate morality” slogan, that’s when you and I part ways.
Of course we can legislate morality. Just about every law in the book is based on morality. Murder is against the law because it’s morally wrong to kill another human being. Holding up the local bank, gas station, or liquor store is against is against the law because it’s morally wrong to steal. Rape is against the law because it’s obviously morally wrong. Polygamy (the practice of having multiple spouses at the same time) is against the law purely because of morality beliefs.
Laws concerning such things as child abuse, kidnapping, assault and battery, domestic battery, arson, prostitution, child pornography, drinking and driving, illegal drug use, the sale of illegal drugs, Sunday liquor sales, and yes, even late-term abortions are all morally based.
So yeah, I think it’s a big waste of time and money for the government to tell how strippers how they can behave in a strip club. But don’t fall for the lie that we can’t legislate morals. We do it all the time…
Kevin McGinty
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
"Freedom of Speech." You Either Believe In It Or You Don't...
Alright, it looks like the controversy over what kind of picture I can and can’t post still hasn’t been decided, so me and my little Weeble looking guy are going to tell our side of the story.
Looks like you won this battle, StJacques. Evidently if you progressive liberals cry racism often enough, loud enough, and to the right people you can get your way. Whatever.
Just so you know, I did keep my word and removed the picture you were so offended by in the first place. I tried to replace it with a similar one but now all the sudden it’s been rejected (because of racial connotations) by the moderators of this site. So I’ve chosen another one. One that I hope offends you just as much as the first one did but I doubt it will. Either way, life goes on.
Here’s the deal, my friend. This is my blog and the things I write and the pictures I choose to post at any given time are a reflection of my beliefs, thoughts, and opinions. And if somewhere along the way I post something that offends you, well, that’s your problem, not mine. Nowhere is it written nor is it implied that just because you’re a left-wing, Obama supporter that you have some special right, to not be offended. Sorry man, that’s just the way it is.
On the other hand, because of the First Amendment and the whole Freedom of Speech thing, I believe I still have the right to express my opinions as I see fit. And that’s what I intend to do.
StJacques, you and your left-wing buddy’s come in here and offend me every chance you get. And whether I like it or not, you have the right to do so. But let me post a picture that somehow damages you sensibilities you scream racism and cry like a bunch of little girls.
I read somewhere that, “If you don’t believe in the Freedom of Speech of those you despise, then you don’t believe in it at all.” Nuff said…
Kevin McGinty
Looks like you won this battle, StJacques. Evidently if you progressive liberals cry racism often enough, loud enough, and to the right people you can get your way. Whatever.
Just so you know, I did keep my word and removed the picture you were so offended by in the first place. I tried to replace it with a similar one but now all the sudden it’s been rejected (because of racial connotations) by the moderators of this site. So I’ve chosen another one. One that I hope offends you just as much as the first one did but I doubt it will. Either way, life goes on.
Here’s the deal, my friend. This is my blog and the things I write and the pictures I choose to post at any given time are a reflection of my beliefs, thoughts, and opinions. And if somewhere along the way I post something that offends you, well, that’s your problem, not mine. Nowhere is it written nor is it implied that just because you’re a left-wing, Obama supporter that you have some special right, to not be offended. Sorry man, that’s just the way it is.
On the other hand, because of the First Amendment and the whole Freedom of Speech thing, I believe I still have the right to express my opinions as I see fit. And that’s what I intend to do.
StJacques, you and your left-wing buddy’s come in here and offend me every chance you get. And whether I like it or not, you have the right to do so. But let me post a picture that somehow damages you sensibilities you scream racism and cry like a bunch of little girls.
I read somewhere that, “If you don’t believe in the Freedom of Speech of those you despise, then you don’t believe in it at all.” Nuff said…
Kevin McGinty
Thursday, March 18, 2010
United Socialist States of America...
You lib’s, progressives, socialists, or whatever you’re calling yourselves nowadays are so predictable. In the last post I asked the question, what has Obama actually accomplished since taking office. Right from the very start it became perfectly clear you couldn’t answer that simple question so you went straight for the name calling. Let’s see, I was a failed truck driver. I had been fired from the local free newspaper. I was and idiot, a freakin idiot, a racist, and a Klan boy. LMAO!!!
Well, you’re not going to like this question any better but I’m going to ask it anyway. Is there a single Democrat politician left out there who hasn’t sold his or her soul to Obama? Is there one left out there who still has at least a shred of honor left? I doubt it.
Do you realize this health care bill still hasn’t been voted on in the Senate? They don’t have the votes to pass the Senate version in the House. So, for the first time in the history of our nation, a bill that will change every single one of our lives will go to the president and be signed into law without the support of either houses of congress.
And you’re alright with that? I know, that was a stupid question. Of course you’re alright with it. Anything for free stuff, Obama promises to give you, right?
You know as well as I do that if the Republicans were trying to do anything even remotely close to this crap, you’d be screaming in the streets. You’d be whining about those evil Republicans trampling on your rights and destroying the Constitution. But when your guy is doing exactly that, it’s somehow okay.
Yeah I know, the CBO office released it’s projections today. In their best guess, this will be one of the best things to come along in a lifetime. We’ll be able to add tens of millions of people to an already over-burdened health care system and still save money to boot.
Well, rant and rave all you want. Hold up their figures as proof that your president is right. Because figures don’t lie, do they?
No they don’t. But liars do figure…
Kevin McGinty
Well, you’re not going to like this question any better but I’m going to ask it anyway. Is there a single Democrat politician left out there who hasn’t sold his or her soul to Obama? Is there one left out there who still has at least a shred of honor left? I doubt it.
Do you realize this health care bill still hasn’t been voted on in the Senate? They don’t have the votes to pass the Senate version in the House. So, for the first time in the history of our nation, a bill that will change every single one of our lives will go to the president and be signed into law without the support of either houses of congress.
And you’re alright with that? I know, that was a stupid question. Of course you’re alright with it. Anything for free stuff, Obama promises to give you, right?
You know as well as I do that if the Republicans were trying to do anything even remotely close to this crap, you’d be screaming in the streets. You’d be whining about those evil Republicans trampling on your rights and destroying the Constitution. But when your guy is doing exactly that, it’s somehow okay.
Yeah I know, the CBO office released it’s projections today. In their best guess, this will be one of the best things to come along in a lifetime. We’ll be able to add tens of millions of people to an already over-burdened health care system and still save money to boot.
Well, rant and rave all you want. Hold up their figures as proof that your president is right. Because figures don’t lie, do they?
No they don’t. But liars do figure…
Kevin McGinty
Sunday, March 14, 2010
No Whining Please...
Last week I wrote about what I see as the melt-down of the Democratic Party. I asked about what Obama has actually accomplished since taking office over a year ago. And whether you like it or not, he hasn’t really done much of anything except to divide this country like no other president has ever been able to do. Sorry, but that’s just the way I see it.
Because I asked these questions though, one of the posters called this a racist blog and claimed the picture I chose to post of Obama made up to look like The Joker was racist too. Whatever.
There was a time when being labeled a racist by some left-winger was probably something to worry about. But that time has come and gone. Hell, you guys play the race card so often, you’ve actually worn it out. You’re starting to sound like whiners…
So instead of whining, let’s talk about how your president has used race, hatred, and very open, class action warfare to keep us at each other’s throats, while he goes about fulfilling his campaign promise of “fundamentally changing America.” Luckily for us, he’s too weak and inexperienced to be an effective leader and hasn’t accomplished the things necessary to further his Socialist agenda.
It’s funny too. There was a time the left-wingers denied that Obama was a socialist. Now they just ask, what’s so bad about Socialism anyway? Weird…
Kevin McGinty
Because I asked these questions though, one of the posters called this a racist blog and claimed the picture I chose to post of Obama made up to look like The Joker was racist too. Whatever.
There was a time when being labeled a racist by some left-winger was probably something to worry about. But that time has come and gone. Hell, you guys play the race card so often, you’ve actually worn it out. You’re starting to sound like whiners…
So instead of whining, let’s talk about how your president has used race, hatred, and very open, class action warfare to keep us at each other’s throats, while he goes about fulfilling his campaign promise of “fundamentally changing America.” Luckily for us, he’s too weak and inexperienced to be an effective leader and hasn’t accomplished the things necessary to further his Socialist agenda.
It’s funny too. There was a time the left-wingers denied that Obama was a socialist. Now they just ask, what’s so bad about Socialism anyway? Weird…
Kevin McGinty
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Downfall of the Democrats...
Wow! It’s gotta be tough being a Democrat right about now. You know, the way they’ve been holding themselves up to such high standards and all. Nancy Pelosi proudly proclaimed that it was time to drain the swamp. Yeah it’s draining alright. Right before our eyes too, and it all started with Rod Blagojevich, and William Jefferson, remember those guys?
And the draining continues. Democrat Congressman, Charlie Rangel of New York just bit the dust. Democrat Representative, Eric Massa of New York is gone as of Monday morning. And Democrat Governor, David Paterson’s hold on power is getting weaker by the day. All due to one scandal or another.
During the campaign, Obama promised to change the way things were done in Washington. To be more open and transparent. What’s changed? Looks to me like your guys are every bit as corrupt as those evil Republicans you love to hate so much.
Yeah, it’s fair to say he’s changed things but what‘s he accomplished? On his first day in office, Obama showed the world he was a man of his word by signing orders to close that dreaded place called, Guantanamo Bay. Didn’t happen, did it? Now we know he lied.
He was going to prove to the world how just and fair we are by doing away with those hated Military Tribunals and by giving terrorists civilian trials in New York, the very city they tried to destroy. Well, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen either. Looks like we’re back to military tribunals after all. And where do you suppose these tribunals will take place? Yep, right there at Gitmo. The same place that was supposed to be shut down by now. Hmm, weird. You guys hated Bush’s Patriot Act. Now Obama has extended it for a year. Bet you really hate that.
Let’s see, what else has he done since taking office? Twice he’s traveled to Copenhagen. Once to bring home the 2016 Olympics and once to save the world from global warming. He came up short on both trips.
He campaigned for Jon Corzine in New Jersey. Jon Corzine lost that race. He traveled to Virginia to campaign for Creigh Deeds. Creigh Deeds lost that race. He traveled to Massachusetts to salvage Ted Kennedy’s seat by campaigning for Martha Coakley. Well, we all know how that one ended up. She lost too.
Yeah, he has accomplished a couple of things. He did win the Nobel Peace Prize. But then, the bar to winning one of those things was set pretty low for him. But that’s another story.
He’s managed to reach the lowest approval ratings of any president after just one year in office since the birth of our nation. Wow! That’s something to crow about.
More than anything, he’s managed to divide this country more than anyone before him ever has. You just watch, it’s just gonna keep getting worse.
Yeah, it’s gotta be tough being a Democrat right about now…
Kevin McGinty
And the draining continues. Democrat Congressman, Charlie Rangel of New York just bit the dust. Democrat Representative, Eric Massa of New York is gone as of Monday morning. And Democrat Governor, David Paterson’s hold on power is getting weaker by the day. All due to one scandal or another.
During the campaign, Obama promised to change the way things were done in Washington. To be more open and transparent. What’s changed? Looks to me like your guys are every bit as corrupt as those evil Republicans you love to hate so much.
Yeah, it’s fair to say he’s changed things but what‘s he accomplished? On his first day in office, Obama showed the world he was a man of his word by signing orders to close that dreaded place called, Guantanamo Bay. Didn’t happen, did it? Now we know he lied.
He was going to prove to the world how just and fair we are by doing away with those hated Military Tribunals and by giving terrorists civilian trials in New York, the very city they tried to destroy. Well, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen either. Looks like we’re back to military tribunals after all. And where do you suppose these tribunals will take place? Yep, right there at Gitmo. The same place that was supposed to be shut down by now. Hmm, weird. You guys hated Bush’s Patriot Act. Now Obama has extended it for a year. Bet you really hate that.
Let’s see, what else has he done since taking office? Twice he’s traveled to Copenhagen. Once to bring home the 2016 Olympics and once to save the world from global warming. He came up short on both trips.
He campaigned for Jon Corzine in New Jersey. Jon Corzine lost that race. He traveled to Virginia to campaign for Creigh Deeds. Creigh Deeds lost that race. He traveled to Massachusetts to salvage Ted Kennedy’s seat by campaigning for Martha Coakley. Well, we all know how that one ended up. She lost too.
Yeah, he has accomplished a couple of things. He did win the Nobel Peace Prize. But then, the bar to winning one of those things was set pretty low for him. But that’s another story.
He’s managed to reach the lowest approval ratings of any president after just one year in office since the birth of our nation. Wow! That’s something to crow about.
More than anything, he’s managed to divide this country more than anyone before him ever has. You just watch, it’s just gonna keep getting worse.
Yeah, it’s gotta be tough being a Democrat right about now…
Kevin McGinty
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Slidell, Louisiana. What Happens Here Stays Here...
Before we get started today, I probably ought to explain to those of you haven’t been following along that this is the fourth part of a road trip we’re taking. We’re headed to Taft, Louisiana to pick up a load of some kind of chemical containers. We’re taking a break at a truck stop just outside of Slidell, La. Who knows? Maybe even do a little partying. The rest of the crew is inside doing what they’re doing. Me? Well, I’m out here in the truck getting caught up on my paper work and figuring out the best route to take once we head for West Virginia tomorrow afternoon. But hey, here comes the rest of the crew. I gotta get all this stuff put away.
So, you guys ready? What’s that? Oh yeah, this place is huge. You can get about anything you can think of in there. Yeah, they have pretty much anything you’d ever need. You can get your groceries in there. They have trucker, biker, and cowboy stuff. Clothes of all kinds. You can play video games, get a hair cut, or have your shoes shined. You can take a shower and do your laundry if you need to. Upstairs in the driver’s lounge you can usually catch a movie and they’ll give you free popcorn to boot. And if you come through on a Sunday morning, feeling a little lonely, or just need someone to talk to, there’s a chapel out back.
Hey, before we walk over to the bar, I want to show guys something. See those two gals over by that flat bed a couple of rows up? It won’t be long before they’re back here? They’re hookers. Truckers call them lot lizards. And see that guy in the blue Caprice that’s been driving around? I’m pretty sure he’s their pimp. And more than likely, he’s the one with all the drugs too.
Here they come. What’s that sweetheart? You want to know if I’m looking for a date? I don’t know. What are you offering? About that time the tall, skinny one showed me her boobs, said she was something special and promised it‘d be a date I‘d never forget. Sorry sweetheart, I’m just messing with you. Nah, I’m not looking for a date. My wife really wouldn’t understand. What’s that? I don’t know. I’ll ask them. Hey guys, These two young ladies, Star and Fallen Angel want to know if any of you’d like to spend a little time with them tonight. Hey, we’re all adults here, you guys do what you want. Remember, what happens here stays here.
I’m going to head on across the street. Come on, I’ll introduce you to an old friend of mine. One I haven’t seen in a very long time. I wonder if he’s still mad.
Billy Cunningham! How in the world have you been? Man, it’s good to see you. Billy looked up from behind the bar just shook his head and said, well, well, well, look what the dogs drug in. Thought maybe you’d died or something, Bojangles. And you know, you’re lucky I don’t just come across this bar and beat the crap out of you.
Ah shut up, tough guy. We both know the only reason you don’t is because you know you can’t take me. Besides, you know as well as I do that cowboy started the fight that night. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let beat on me? Billy started laughing and said, you might as well have. He beat the crap out of you anyway! Yeah, you’re real funny, tough guy. Hey, why don’t you bring us a couple of pitchers and a Coke, will you? I brought a some friends I’d like you to meet.
So what do you think, guys? What’s so special about it? Oh, nothing I guess. Yeah, it’s just a bar. A bar like you’d find anywhere. They have a bar, booths, and tables. There’s a juke box and a couple of pool tables and a dance floor, they have live music on the weekends. I guess it’s just the people. Most of the people here are truckers. And like tuckers everywhere, we’re never in one place for much longer than a day at a time. You know, the here today and gone tomorrow thing. I’ve met a lot of good people out here on the road. But I’ve also met some I hope I never see again. You just gotta watch yourself.
Well hey, it’s getting late. I’m going to head back to the truck and get some sleep. Nah, I’m not drinking, you guys go ahead. I guess I finally outgrew most of that stuff. Go ahead and stay as late as you want. Do me a favor though, keep an eye on Bob. I don’t think Billy likes him.
Kevin McGinty
So, you guys ready? What’s that? Oh yeah, this place is huge. You can get about anything you can think of in there. Yeah, they have pretty much anything you’d ever need. You can get your groceries in there. They have trucker, biker, and cowboy stuff. Clothes of all kinds. You can play video games, get a hair cut, or have your shoes shined. You can take a shower and do your laundry if you need to. Upstairs in the driver’s lounge you can usually catch a movie and they’ll give you free popcorn to boot. And if you come through on a Sunday morning, feeling a little lonely, or just need someone to talk to, there’s a chapel out back.
Hey, before we walk over to the bar, I want to show guys something. See those two gals over by that flat bed a couple of rows up? It won’t be long before they’re back here? They’re hookers. Truckers call them lot lizards. And see that guy in the blue Caprice that’s been driving around? I’m pretty sure he’s their pimp. And more than likely, he’s the one with all the drugs too.
Here they come. What’s that sweetheart? You want to know if I’m looking for a date? I don’t know. What are you offering? About that time the tall, skinny one showed me her boobs, said she was something special and promised it‘d be a date I‘d never forget. Sorry sweetheart, I’m just messing with you. Nah, I’m not looking for a date. My wife really wouldn’t understand. What’s that? I don’t know. I’ll ask them. Hey guys, These two young ladies, Star and Fallen Angel want to know if any of you’d like to spend a little time with them tonight. Hey, we’re all adults here, you guys do what you want. Remember, what happens here stays here.
I’m going to head on across the street. Come on, I’ll introduce you to an old friend of mine. One I haven’t seen in a very long time. I wonder if he’s still mad.
Billy Cunningham! How in the world have you been? Man, it’s good to see you. Billy looked up from behind the bar just shook his head and said, well, well, well, look what the dogs drug in. Thought maybe you’d died or something, Bojangles. And you know, you’re lucky I don’t just come across this bar and beat the crap out of you.
Ah shut up, tough guy. We both know the only reason you don’t is because you know you can’t take me. Besides, you know as well as I do that cowboy started the fight that night. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let beat on me? Billy started laughing and said, you might as well have. He beat the crap out of you anyway! Yeah, you’re real funny, tough guy. Hey, why don’t you bring us a couple of pitchers and a Coke, will you? I brought a some friends I’d like you to meet.
So what do you think, guys? What’s so special about it? Oh, nothing I guess. Yeah, it’s just a bar. A bar like you’d find anywhere. They have a bar, booths, and tables. There’s a juke box and a couple of pool tables and a dance floor, they have live music on the weekends. I guess it’s just the people. Most of the people here are truckers. And like tuckers everywhere, we’re never in one place for much longer than a day at a time. You know, the here today and gone tomorrow thing. I’ve met a lot of good people out here on the road. But I’ve also met some I hope I never see again. You just gotta watch yourself.
Well hey, it’s getting late. I’m going to head back to the truck and get some sleep. Nah, I’m not drinking, you guys go ahead. I guess I finally outgrew most of that stuff. Go ahead and stay as late as you want. Do me a favor though, keep an eye on Bob. I don’t think Billy likes him.
Kevin McGinty
Saturday, February 27, 2010
On To Slidell...
Alright guys, check it out. We’re about to cross the Mississippi River. It kind of makes the Kansas River back home look like a creek, doesn’t it? We’re just outside Memphis and should be pulling onto the truck stop in about fifteen minutes or so. What’s that? You say you guys are about to pee your pants. Yeah, me too. But I gotta be honest though. While you guys were sleeping I pulled into a rest area twice on the way here. Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful and all. I’ll tell you what. I’ll drop you off out front so you can run in and take care of business, I’ll go ahead and fuel up then find us a parking place and meet you inside in about a half an hour or so. And hey, if some of you end up in the restaurant before I get back, save me a seat, will you?
Oh crap! Hey guys, it’s almost 5 o’clock in the morning. We gotta get going. How about we grab a quick breakfast and meet back here in an hour. That way we can get out of town before traffic gets too bad. That’s kind of the way I try to plan my runs. You try to hit the big cities either real early in the morning or real late at night.
I can already tell, it’s going to be a good day to be on the road. Interstate all the way. We’re taking I-55 straight through the heart of Mississippi, and let me tell you, life just doesn’t get much better than that. I don’t know whether any of you have through Mississippi or not. If you have, you know what I‘m talking about. It’s an absolutely beautiful state. Anyway, we’ll stay on I-55 clear into Louisiana where we’ll pick up I-12, then it’s a straight shot to Slidell. Let’s get going. Hey, you want to hand me that Arlo Guthrie CD. Yeah, that’s the one. Sing along if you want. Good morning America, how are ya.
Breaker 1-9, how bout that north-bound cattle truck working his way up to Music Town, you got your radio on? Yeah, you got the Trail Boss here, what can I do for you? Hey thanks Trail Boss, you got Bojangles here. How’s it looking back your way? Oh, Bojangles, be careful out there. The Chicken Coops (weigh stations) are open and it looks like they’re pulling everybody in. Better have all your paper work in line. They’re checking that too. Dang, Trail Boss, you’re just full of good news, aren’t you? He came back and just laughed then said, where you headed anyway, Bojangles? I told him we we’re headed to Slidell to get a little rest. Trail Boss laughed and said, you lie like a dog, Bojangles. You know as well as I do that rest is the last thing on your mind if you’re going to Slidell! Just be careful, Bojangles. This is the Trail Boss and I’m headed to the house. I said, be careful out there, Trail Boss. You got Bojangles on this end and we’re heading south just as fast as this old truck will take us.
I probably should have told you more about the truck stop we’re headed to in Slidell. Let’s see, how do I say this? Hmm, let’s just say it’s not a place you’d want to take your mom to. How’s that?
Anyway, there it is. Let’s see if we can find a parking place. Hey breaker 1-9, you got Bojangles here, where‘s all the trashy (party) people hanging out tonight? Yeah, you got the Alabama Kid here, Bojangles, we‘re all hanging out in the back row waiting for the show to begin. Bring it on back, there’s plenty of room. Hey thanks, Alabama Kid. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes. You guys ready? Here’s the deal. Slidell is a little like Vegas. What happens here, stays here.
Man, I could really use a shower. How about we get cleaned up, get something to eat, and meet back here at the truck around 6 o’clock. A good friend of mine, Billy Cunningham and his wife run the bar across the street and if you’re interested, I’ll buy the first round.
Hey, wait a minute. Did you guys hear that. It sounds like something’s banging on the back of the sleeper. There it is again. Sounds like someone’s crying too. Hear it? I’ll be right back, I’d better check it out.
What the hell!? Bob, what in the world are you doing back here? Man, you could have frozen to death. Are you crazy or something?
Hey guys, look what I found, all shivering and curled up in the fetal position on the deck plate between the cab and the trailer. It’s our buddy, Bob Smith from back home. He says he was coming back from the bathroom back in Memphis when he saw us leaving. He says he ran alongside the passenger side of the truck and even tried banging on the door. Bob, I’m sorry man. I had no idea you were back there. I really thought everybody that was coming along was onboard. If it makes you feel better, from now on, we’ll do a head count before hitting the road. Okay? Now go on, get your butt up there in that truck and get warmed up. Man, I’m getting cold just looking at you.
I’ll tell you what, Bob. Just to prove to you that I still want to be friends, I’ll even buy you a beer tonight. How’s that?
Kevin McGinty
Oh crap! Hey guys, it’s almost 5 o’clock in the morning. We gotta get going. How about we grab a quick breakfast and meet back here in an hour. That way we can get out of town before traffic gets too bad. That’s kind of the way I try to plan my runs. You try to hit the big cities either real early in the morning or real late at night.
I can already tell, it’s going to be a good day to be on the road. Interstate all the way. We’re taking I-55 straight through the heart of Mississippi, and let me tell you, life just doesn’t get much better than that. I don’t know whether any of you have through Mississippi or not. If you have, you know what I‘m talking about. It’s an absolutely beautiful state. Anyway, we’ll stay on I-55 clear into Louisiana where we’ll pick up I-12, then it’s a straight shot to Slidell. Let’s get going. Hey, you want to hand me that Arlo Guthrie CD. Yeah, that’s the one. Sing along if you want. Good morning America, how are ya.
Breaker 1-9, how bout that north-bound cattle truck working his way up to Music Town, you got your radio on? Yeah, you got the Trail Boss here, what can I do for you? Hey thanks Trail Boss, you got Bojangles here. How’s it looking back your way? Oh, Bojangles, be careful out there. The Chicken Coops (weigh stations) are open and it looks like they’re pulling everybody in. Better have all your paper work in line. They’re checking that too. Dang, Trail Boss, you’re just full of good news, aren’t you? He came back and just laughed then said, where you headed anyway, Bojangles? I told him we we’re headed to Slidell to get a little rest. Trail Boss laughed and said, you lie like a dog, Bojangles. You know as well as I do that rest is the last thing on your mind if you’re going to Slidell! Just be careful, Bojangles. This is the Trail Boss and I’m headed to the house. I said, be careful out there, Trail Boss. You got Bojangles on this end and we’re heading south just as fast as this old truck will take us.
I probably should have told you more about the truck stop we’re headed to in Slidell. Let’s see, how do I say this? Hmm, let’s just say it’s not a place you’d want to take your mom to. How’s that?
Anyway, there it is. Let’s see if we can find a parking place. Hey breaker 1-9, you got Bojangles here, where‘s all the trashy (party) people hanging out tonight? Yeah, you got the Alabama Kid here, Bojangles, we‘re all hanging out in the back row waiting for the show to begin. Bring it on back, there’s plenty of room. Hey thanks, Alabama Kid. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes. You guys ready? Here’s the deal. Slidell is a little like Vegas. What happens here, stays here.
Man, I could really use a shower. How about we get cleaned up, get something to eat, and meet back here at the truck around 6 o’clock. A good friend of mine, Billy Cunningham and his wife run the bar across the street and if you’re interested, I’ll buy the first round.
Hey, wait a minute. Did you guys hear that. It sounds like something’s banging on the back of the sleeper. There it is again. Sounds like someone’s crying too. Hear it? I’ll be right back, I’d better check it out.
What the hell!? Bob, what in the world are you doing back here? Man, you could have frozen to death. Are you crazy or something?
Hey guys, look what I found, all shivering and curled up in the fetal position on the deck plate between the cab and the trailer. It’s our buddy, Bob Smith from back home. He says he was coming back from the bathroom back in Memphis when he saw us leaving. He says he ran alongside the passenger side of the truck and even tried banging on the door. Bob, I’m sorry man. I had no idea you were back there. I really thought everybody that was coming along was onboard. If it makes you feel better, from now on, we’ll do a head count before hitting the road. Okay? Now go on, get your butt up there in that truck and get warmed up. Man, I’m getting cold just looking at you.
I’ll tell you what, Bob. Just to prove to you that I still want to be friends, I’ll even buy you a beer tonight. How’s that?
Kevin McGinty
Friday, February 26, 2010
Hop In...
You ready? Go ahead and throw your bags in one of those outside compartments and climb on up. Slide on back there in the sleeper. There’s a seat on both ends and two bunks to sleep on. Over there is the fridge, microwave, built in stereo, and a TV-DVD player. Over in that corner is a stack of movies and some of my old CDs. Get settled in and make yourself at home.
Today we’re headed to Slidell, Louisiana (915 miles) with this load of water beds I picked up in Casper, Wyoming three days ago. We’re supposed to drop this load off and pick up an empty trailer at a drop yard in Slidell, then take it to some chemical plant somewhere outside of Taft, Louisiana, about a 70 mile drive. Not bad but it takes us right through the heart of New Orleans. It’s not that I don’t like New Orleans. Hell I love the place. It’s just that cities, especially old one’s aren’t exactly truck friendly. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.
Well hey, it’s already 6 o’clock in the morning, we gotta get going. I’d really like to make it through Kansas City before traffic gets crazy. If we don’t run into too many problems on the road, we ought to be eating lunch in Springfield, Missouri in about four or five hours. Then it’s another hard five or six hours till we shut down for the night in Memphis.
Breaker 1-9. How bout that west-bound, flatbed just coming into T-Town. You got your radio on, Bud? A few seconds later a loud, booming, semi-friendly voice crackles over the C.B., You got The Wagon Master here. Who we got on that end and what’s on your mind east-bound? Hey, thanks for the break, Wagon Master. You got Bojangles on this end. How’s it looking over your shoulder? Wagon Master comes back and says he hasn’t seen a cop all night. Then he talked about how hard it was snowing south of Kansas City where he had just come from. Great. That’s exactly where we’re headed. I thanked him for the depressing weather update, wished him well, and told him to keep it between the ditches. This is Bojangles, and we’re outta here.
Hey, I’m gonna need one of you guys to help navigate this thing. I usually do it myself but it’s always good to have a second pair of eyes. We’re going to drop south around KC then hit 71 South. We’ll stay on that one till we get to Harrisonville where we’ll have to take some other road. That’s where the navigator comes in. You’ll need to pick out a route that’ll take us south through Springfield and Branson, Missouri. From there we’ll probably take 65 South to Little Rock, Arkansas, where we’ll run into I-40 East and on into Memphis. Which, by the way, is where I plan on calling it a day anyway. It’s a little over halfway to Slidell and by then I’ll be out of hours anyway.
Alright, there it is, South 71. You guys doing okay back there? What’s that? You say you didn’t realize it would be such a rough ride. Sorry, I guess I just figured everybody knew that. Yeah, it gets pretty bad. You’ll get used to it though. Hey, check it out, the sun’s just starting to rise. I get to watch the sun come up almost every morning. And it’s something I never get tired of.
I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to pop in an old Arlo Guthrie CD I came across a while back at a truck stop. Ever hear him sing the song called “City of New Orleans?” You know the one. It goes something like this. Good morning America, how are ya? Say, don’t you know me, I’m your native son. I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans, I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done. Anyway, something like that. Seems kind of fitting.
Hey guys, we lost a lot of time because of the snow back around KC. What do you say we bypass lunch in Springfield and keep pushing on to Memphis? There’s plenty of stuff for sandwiches in the fridge and should be plenty to drink. You guys okay with that? You sure? Good.
Might as well get comfortable then. Hey, why don’t you put in that movie. Yeah, the one on top. That’s the one. It’s called Fried Green Tomatoes. I just love that old movie. I’ll talk to you when we get to Memphis…
Kevin McGinty
Today we’re headed to Slidell, Louisiana (915 miles) with this load of water beds I picked up in Casper, Wyoming three days ago. We’re supposed to drop this load off and pick up an empty trailer at a drop yard in Slidell, then take it to some chemical plant somewhere outside of Taft, Louisiana, about a 70 mile drive. Not bad but it takes us right through the heart of New Orleans. It’s not that I don’t like New Orleans. Hell I love the place. It’s just that cities, especially old one’s aren’t exactly truck friendly. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.
Well hey, it’s already 6 o’clock in the morning, we gotta get going. I’d really like to make it through Kansas City before traffic gets crazy. If we don’t run into too many problems on the road, we ought to be eating lunch in Springfield, Missouri in about four or five hours. Then it’s another hard five or six hours till we shut down for the night in Memphis.
Breaker 1-9. How bout that west-bound, flatbed just coming into T-Town. You got your radio on, Bud? A few seconds later a loud, booming, semi-friendly voice crackles over the C.B., You got The Wagon Master here. Who we got on that end and what’s on your mind east-bound? Hey, thanks for the break, Wagon Master. You got Bojangles on this end. How’s it looking over your shoulder? Wagon Master comes back and says he hasn’t seen a cop all night. Then he talked about how hard it was snowing south of Kansas City where he had just come from. Great. That’s exactly where we’re headed. I thanked him for the depressing weather update, wished him well, and told him to keep it between the ditches. This is Bojangles, and we’re outta here.
Hey, I’m gonna need one of you guys to help navigate this thing. I usually do it myself but it’s always good to have a second pair of eyes. We’re going to drop south around KC then hit 71 South. We’ll stay on that one till we get to Harrisonville where we’ll have to take some other road. That’s where the navigator comes in. You’ll need to pick out a route that’ll take us south through Springfield and Branson, Missouri. From there we’ll probably take 65 South to Little Rock, Arkansas, where we’ll run into I-40 East and on into Memphis. Which, by the way, is where I plan on calling it a day anyway. It’s a little over halfway to Slidell and by then I’ll be out of hours anyway.
Alright, there it is, South 71. You guys doing okay back there? What’s that? You say you didn’t realize it would be such a rough ride. Sorry, I guess I just figured everybody knew that. Yeah, it gets pretty bad. You’ll get used to it though. Hey, check it out, the sun’s just starting to rise. I get to watch the sun come up almost every morning. And it’s something I never get tired of.
I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to pop in an old Arlo Guthrie CD I came across a while back at a truck stop. Ever hear him sing the song called “City of New Orleans?” You know the one. It goes something like this. Good morning America, how are ya? Say, don’t you know me, I’m your native son. I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans, I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done. Anyway, something like that. Seems kind of fitting.
Hey guys, we lost a lot of time because of the snow back around KC. What do you say we bypass lunch in Springfield and keep pushing on to Memphis? There’s plenty of stuff for sandwiches in the fridge and should be plenty to drink. You guys okay with that? You sure? Good.
Might as well get comfortable then. Hey, why don’t you put in that movie. Yeah, the one on top. That’s the one. It’s called Fried Green Tomatoes. I just love that old movie. I’ll talk to you when we get to Memphis…
Kevin McGinty
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Is It a Long Story Grandpa...
I’ve never mentioned it here on cjonline, but I used to drive a truck over the road. And I thought it might be fun to share a story about one of the loads I hauled. But first, I’ll tell you the story of what reminded me of it to begin with. That part’s a story about my 10-year-old grandson, Adam.
Ever since he was about five, Adam has spent Saturday nights with us. We’ve become great buddies and do a lot of stuff together. Currently we’re working on some Star Wars, Robotic Arm thing he got for Christmas. It’s one of those “Easy to Assemble” projects. Yeah right. The stupid thing probably has somewhere around a bazillion pieces. And if you don’t get every single one of them exactly right none of it works.
Well, that’s what happened. We had it all together and when it was time to test it out, two of the fingers wouldn’t move. Hey, it was good enough for me but Adam insisted we take the whole thing apart and fix it. That’s exactly what we did and it’s still sitting there on his table in the basement.
Last Saturday night we decided to give it another shot. We got all the pieces arranged the best we could and got started. It wasn’t long before, Adam decided he really didn’t want to mess with it which was just fine with me. I got on the computer while he entertained himself by going through my boxes of stuff. He dug out one of my old brief cases. It used to be my Dad’s. He used it when was a platform operator for Gulf Oil out in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s black and has his name taped on by one those old ribbon guns. It’s covered with the logos of several different oil field related companies and a bunch of safety awards. Yeah, you could say it has a lot of sentimental value.
I explained to him that it had once belonged to his great grand father and how he gave it to me the night I swung by his house in Lake Charles, Louisiana while I was driving a truck over the road.
Adam seemed genuinely impressed with that part of the story. We opened it up and there were a bunch of my old log books, note books, load information sheets, nationwide fuel stop locations, telephone numbers, pictures, post cards, and pens that don’t work anymore. You know, treasures.
I was looking through the log books when one trip in particular caught my eye. It was a load of chemicals I’d hauled from Taft, Louisiana to a town called Nitro, West Virginia. A hell trip if ever there was one. I asked Adam if wanted to hear the story. He thought about, then said something like, I’m sure it’s a good story grandpa, but is it going to be a long one? I was really hoping I could go upstairs to play my game pretty soon. I couldn’t help but laugh and told him to get his butt up there and get after it then.
So, here’s the deal. Now there’s nobody left to tell my story to except you guys. How about it, are you up to a road trip in a 75,000 lb. truck loaded down with explosive chemicals? Just so you know, this particular trip’s going to involve fun things like truck-stop hookers in Slidell, Louisiana, The Huey P. Long Bridge in New Orleans, a chemical plant explosion in Nitro, West Virginia, and the E.P.A. It wasn’t one of my favorite runs but it’s one of the one’s I’ll always remember.
Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
Ever since he was about five, Adam has spent Saturday nights with us. We’ve become great buddies and do a lot of stuff together. Currently we’re working on some Star Wars, Robotic Arm thing he got for Christmas. It’s one of those “Easy to Assemble” projects. Yeah right. The stupid thing probably has somewhere around a bazillion pieces. And if you don’t get every single one of them exactly right none of it works.
Well, that’s what happened. We had it all together and when it was time to test it out, two of the fingers wouldn’t move. Hey, it was good enough for me but Adam insisted we take the whole thing apart and fix it. That’s exactly what we did and it’s still sitting there on his table in the basement.
Last Saturday night we decided to give it another shot. We got all the pieces arranged the best we could and got started. It wasn’t long before, Adam decided he really didn’t want to mess with it which was just fine with me. I got on the computer while he entertained himself by going through my boxes of stuff. He dug out one of my old brief cases. It used to be my Dad’s. He used it when was a platform operator for Gulf Oil out in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s black and has his name taped on by one those old ribbon guns. It’s covered with the logos of several different oil field related companies and a bunch of safety awards. Yeah, you could say it has a lot of sentimental value.
I explained to him that it had once belonged to his great grand father and how he gave it to me the night I swung by his house in Lake Charles, Louisiana while I was driving a truck over the road.
Adam seemed genuinely impressed with that part of the story. We opened it up and there were a bunch of my old log books, note books, load information sheets, nationwide fuel stop locations, telephone numbers, pictures, post cards, and pens that don’t work anymore. You know, treasures.
I was looking through the log books when one trip in particular caught my eye. It was a load of chemicals I’d hauled from Taft, Louisiana to a town called Nitro, West Virginia. A hell trip if ever there was one. I asked Adam if wanted to hear the story. He thought about, then said something like, I’m sure it’s a good story grandpa, but is it going to be a long one? I was really hoping I could go upstairs to play my game pretty soon. I couldn’t help but laugh and told him to get his butt up there and get after it then.
So, here’s the deal. Now there’s nobody left to tell my story to except you guys. How about it, are you up to a road trip in a 75,000 lb. truck loaded down with explosive chemicals? Just so you know, this particular trip’s going to involve fun things like truck-stop hookers in Slidell, Louisiana, The Huey P. Long Bridge in New Orleans, a chemical plant explosion in Nitro, West Virginia, and the E.P.A. It wasn’t one of my favorite runs but it’s one of the one’s I’ll always remember.
Talk to you guys later…
Kevin McGinty
Friday, February 19, 2010
Random Thoughts...
Just a few random thoughts to wind up the week:
So Tiger Woods comes out and apologizes for cheating on his wife and like so many other multi millionaires, he uses an addiction for an excuse. Whatever. It’s funny too, he really wanted to make sure people understood that his wife never did hit him. He’s a lucky guy. If his wife had been anything like mine, she’d have beat him half to death, sex addiction or not.
Just the other day, Hillary Clinton shocked the world by announcing that it appears that Iran is slowly becoming a Military dictatorship. And Thursday, the United Nation’s International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) delivered a shock of their own by telling the world it looks like maybe, just maybe Iran is actually working toward a nuclear weapons program. Duh! You just can’t get anything past these people, can you?
Last but not least, a couple of weeks ago, the Supreme Court ruled that Corporations should be allowed to contribute to political campaigns of their choice. The outrage was swift and severe. But when Obama unveiled his 1.5 billion dollar, tax payer supported, plan today to bailout victims of the housing crisis in the state of Nevada while he just happened to be there campaigning for Harry Reid, we don’t even hear a whisper. Hmm, weird…
Have a good weekend guys, talk to you later…
Kevin McGinty
So Tiger Woods comes out and apologizes for cheating on his wife and like so many other multi millionaires, he uses an addiction for an excuse. Whatever. It’s funny too, he really wanted to make sure people understood that his wife never did hit him. He’s a lucky guy. If his wife had been anything like mine, she’d have beat him half to death, sex addiction or not.
Just the other day, Hillary Clinton shocked the world by announcing that it appears that Iran is slowly becoming a Military dictatorship. And Thursday, the United Nation’s International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) delivered a shock of their own by telling the world it looks like maybe, just maybe Iran is actually working toward a nuclear weapons program. Duh! You just can’t get anything past these people, can you?
Last but not least, a couple of weeks ago, the Supreme Court ruled that Corporations should be allowed to contribute to political campaigns of their choice. The outrage was swift and severe. But when Obama unveiled his 1.5 billion dollar, tax payer supported, plan today to bailout victims of the housing crisis in the state of Nevada while he just happened to be there campaigning for Harry Reid, we don’t even hear a whisper. Hmm, weird…
Have a good weekend guys, talk to you later…
Kevin McGinty
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Lies, Lies, and more Lies...
I gotta hand it to you global warming believers out there. No matter how much evidence is presented to prove you wrong, you continue to believe.
When the hacked email scandal broke, (climate gate) instead of questioning the lies the emails revealed, you wanted to attack the hackers. Because, you know, they’re the real criminals here, right? Typical.
When the ICPP, (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) who’s statement of principles goes something like this; Our mission is to assess on a comprehensive, objective, transparent basis, scientific, technical socio-economic information. IPCC reports should be neutral with respect to policy. When the IPCC released their, Nobel Prize winning report warning that the Himalayan glaciers will melt by 2035 and in the process billions of people who depend on the glaciers for drinking water will perish. You cheered them on.
But when the scientist behind the Himalayan glacier report scandal, Dr. Murari Lal, admitted the report was included purely to put political pressure on world leaders. He said in an interview, “We thought if we could highlight it, it would impact policy-makers and politicians and encourage them to take some concrete action.” Suddenly, you don’t want to talk about it. Hmm.
When discredited, scientist, Jeff Jones, said the other day that there has been no warming of any kind in the last fifteen years and admitted the earth was probably much warmer in mid-evil times, you remain silent. Weird.
But still, you believe. You say, all this proves nothing.
Ah, but it does. It proves that when you build your house on a foundation of nothing but lies, exaggerations, and half-truths, the entire house will eventually crumble.
Yet you continue to believe. Weird…
Kevin McGinty
When the hacked email scandal broke, (climate gate) instead of questioning the lies the emails revealed, you wanted to attack the hackers. Because, you know, they’re the real criminals here, right? Typical.
When the ICPP, (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) who’s statement of principles goes something like this; Our mission is to assess on a comprehensive, objective, transparent basis, scientific, technical socio-economic information. IPCC reports should be neutral with respect to policy. When the IPCC released their, Nobel Prize winning report warning that the Himalayan glaciers will melt by 2035 and in the process billions of people who depend on the glaciers for drinking water will perish. You cheered them on.
But when the scientist behind the Himalayan glacier report scandal, Dr. Murari Lal, admitted the report was included purely to put political pressure on world leaders. He said in an interview, “We thought if we could highlight it, it would impact policy-makers and politicians and encourage them to take some concrete action.” Suddenly, you don’t want to talk about it. Hmm.
When discredited, scientist, Jeff Jones, said the other day that there has been no warming of any kind in the last fifteen years and admitted the earth was probably much warmer in mid-evil times, you remain silent. Weird.
But still, you believe. You say, all this proves nothing.
Ah, but it does. It proves that when you build your house on a foundation of nothing but lies, exaggerations, and half-truths, the entire house will eventually crumble.
Yet you continue to believe. Weird…
Kevin McGinty
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Small Miracles
Thank God for small miracles.
Because of the massive blizzards that have pounded the entire eastern seaboard over the last few days, Washington D.C. and Congress has been shut down for the last three days in a row now. How many trillions of dollars do you suppose that has saved us?
Also because of major winter storms throughout the entire United States the last two years now, Al Gore has gone into hiding. Don’t worry though, his allies of the faith, are still out there. I heard a guy the other day claiming the downturn of the earth’s temperature the last few years and this years major winter blizzards are further proof of global-warming. Sorry, but a lot of us just aren’t buying it anymore.
On the upside, I heard a report that the ten American’s being held in Haiti could be released as early as tomorrow. Hopefully, by the time you read this they’ll all be on their way home and we can have a little good news for a change…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Because of the massive blizzards that have pounded the entire eastern seaboard over the last few days, Washington D.C. and Congress has been shut down for the last three days in a row now. How many trillions of dollars do you suppose that has saved us?
Also because of major winter storms throughout the entire United States the last two years now, Al Gore has gone into hiding. Don’t worry though, his allies of the faith, are still out there. I heard a guy the other day claiming the downturn of the earth’s temperature the last few years and this years major winter blizzards are further proof of global-warming. Sorry, but a lot of us just aren’t buying it anymore.
On the upside, I heard a report that the ten American’s being held in Haiti could be released as early as tomorrow. Hopefully, by the time you read this they’ll all be on their way home and we can have a little good news for a change…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Saturday, February 6, 2010
How About Standing Up For America For A Change...
Dear Mr. President,
It’s no secret I don’t like you or what you’re trying to do to our country and according to your plunging approval ratings, a lot of others feel the same way.
You’ve spent the last year traveling around the world apologizing for everything America has ever done, real or imagined, to anyone who would listen. We’ve watched you bow to way too many world leaders. You say it’s a sign of respect. I disagree.
But Mr. President, you have a unique chance to stand up for America for a change. I’m talking about the ten Americans being held against their will in horrid conditions in a jail somewhere in the middle of Haiti.
You might remind, Haitian President, Mr. Preval, that if it weren’t for America and her generous people most of their population would have starved to death by now. You might remind him that it was the American’s who first responded when his country was destroyed. You might want to mention that we responded because that’s what we do. And we do it because we care.
You need to assure him you realize there were probably international laws broken by the actions of the ten American citizens being held in his country for trying to rescue kids from his ravaged, dysfunctional country. Assure him they will be held accountable for their actions. Remind him that although these American citizens might not have had the paper work required of them, they were just trying to help some of the kids he‘s not able to anyway.
Explain to him that it’s imperative the Americans they’re holding be transferred to U.S. custody within 48 hours or you will send in a few marines and we’ll take them back, by force, if that’s the way it has to be. And if has to come to that, America will pack up everything we’re doing there, go home and take care of ourselves for a change. Maybe France will step up to the plate.
What’s it going to be, Mr. President? Are you going to stand up for America for a change or are you going to let this idiot make a fool out of us?
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
It’s no secret I don’t like you or what you’re trying to do to our country and according to your plunging approval ratings, a lot of others feel the same way.
You’ve spent the last year traveling around the world apologizing for everything America has ever done, real or imagined, to anyone who would listen. We’ve watched you bow to way too many world leaders. You say it’s a sign of respect. I disagree.
But Mr. President, you have a unique chance to stand up for America for a change. I’m talking about the ten Americans being held against their will in horrid conditions in a jail somewhere in the middle of Haiti.
You might remind, Haitian President, Mr. Preval, that if it weren’t for America and her generous people most of their population would have starved to death by now. You might remind him that it was the American’s who first responded when his country was destroyed. You might want to mention that we responded because that’s what we do. And we do it because we care.
You need to assure him you realize there were probably international laws broken by the actions of the ten American citizens being held in his country for trying to rescue kids from his ravaged, dysfunctional country. Assure him they will be held accountable for their actions. Remind him that although these American citizens might not have had the paper work required of them, they were just trying to help some of the kids he‘s not able to anyway.
Explain to him that it’s imperative the Americans they’re holding be transferred to U.S. custody within 48 hours or you will send in a few marines and we’ll take them back, by force, if that’s the way it has to be. And if has to come to that, America will pack up everything we’re doing there, go home and take care of ourselves for a change. Maybe France will step up to the plate.
What’s it going to be, Mr. President? Are you going to stand up for America for a change or are you going to let this idiot make a fool out of us?
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
What A Crock...
“The lopsided approach of only cutting expenditures isn’t working. The state clearly needs additional revenue, and it’s time the Legislature quit listening to lobbyists’ gloom and doom predictions and come up with a plan to deal with the issue.”
Those are the words of a lady from Lecompton in a letter to the editor the other day. And in my own humble opinion, it’s a completely, bass-akward way of thinking.
How about this, how about instead of constantly raising our taxes, how about we hold our elected officials personally responsible for the decisions they make as far as how they spend the tax dollars they’ve all promised to be good stewards of.
They tell us we’re $400 million short of being able to balance the budget. It’s a crisis they say. Yeah it probably is too. You don’t think it has anything to do with the wasteful spending they’ve done in past years, do you? Of course not. We’ve already cut government expenses to the bone.
How vital was it to dump $300 million into the bottomless pit otherwise known as our State Capital Building right here in Topeka when most of us in the private sector are doing our best just to put food on the table and keep the lights on.
Locally, our know it all, Topeka City Council, in all their collective, infinite wisdom told us the City’s broke and the only way we can have decent streets to drive on is to approve a tax increase. Okay, enough of us fell for it and voted to give them just what they asked for.
Yeah, the City’s broke alright. So broke that they approved some of the most ridiculously, expensive projects I’ve ever heard of in the middle of a recession. Yeah, we really “needed” to spend $1.2 million dollars to replace the cart paths at the Topeka Public Golf Course. There must be an overwhelming “need” to have a new building at Gage Park’s Helen Hocker Theater. I mean, the need must be huge if we’re willing to put up $853,000 dollars to build it, right? Oh yeah, let’s not forget the Landon Trail. They approved an additional $145,000 dollars to extend it. What a crock.
Oh yeah, how about those poor ol’ school districts out there. They’re just barely getting by, right? That’s another crock and those of us who pay attention, know it too.
Tell me, what’d they do with the $700 million the Supreme Court handed them a few years ago. How many new gyms did they build? How many new band and football uniforms did that money buy? How many new football and soccer fields have we paid for? What about baseball diamonds? And once you build all these impressive facilities, you simply have to have new stadiums to go along with them, right? Whatever!
I was working in Hays a couple of weeks ago. And it just so happened they were hosting a big wrestling tournament. Schools were in town from all over western Kansas. Nothing wrong with that. But you should have seen what they were driving. Parking lots all over town were loaded with top of the line, School District, Chevy Suburbans and Ford Expeditions.
Yeah, they’re broke alright. They’re talking about closing and consolidating schools. Talking about cutting programs and laying off teachers. But there’s no way in hell the administrators should have to travel in anything but the best.
What a crock…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Those are the words of a lady from Lecompton in a letter to the editor the other day. And in my own humble opinion, it’s a completely, bass-akward way of thinking.
How about this, how about instead of constantly raising our taxes, how about we hold our elected officials personally responsible for the decisions they make as far as how they spend the tax dollars they’ve all promised to be good stewards of.
They tell us we’re $400 million short of being able to balance the budget. It’s a crisis they say. Yeah it probably is too. You don’t think it has anything to do with the wasteful spending they’ve done in past years, do you? Of course not. We’ve already cut government expenses to the bone.
How vital was it to dump $300 million into the bottomless pit otherwise known as our State Capital Building right here in Topeka when most of us in the private sector are doing our best just to put food on the table and keep the lights on.
Locally, our know it all, Topeka City Council, in all their collective, infinite wisdom told us the City’s broke and the only way we can have decent streets to drive on is to approve a tax increase. Okay, enough of us fell for it and voted to give them just what they asked for.
Yeah, the City’s broke alright. So broke that they approved some of the most ridiculously, expensive projects I’ve ever heard of in the middle of a recession. Yeah, we really “needed” to spend $1.2 million dollars to replace the cart paths at the Topeka Public Golf Course. There must be an overwhelming “need” to have a new building at Gage Park’s Helen Hocker Theater. I mean, the need must be huge if we’re willing to put up $853,000 dollars to build it, right? Oh yeah, let’s not forget the Landon Trail. They approved an additional $145,000 dollars to extend it. What a crock.
Oh yeah, how about those poor ol’ school districts out there. They’re just barely getting by, right? That’s another crock and those of us who pay attention, know it too.
Tell me, what’d they do with the $700 million the Supreme Court handed them a few years ago. How many new gyms did they build? How many new band and football uniforms did that money buy? How many new football and soccer fields have we paid for? What about baseball diamonds? And once you build all these impressive facilities, you simply have to have new stadiums to go along with them, right? Whatever!
I was working in Hays a couple of weeks ago. And it just so happened they were hosting a big wrestling tournament. Schools were in town from all over western Kansas. Nothing wrong with that. But you should have seen what they were driving. Parking lots all over town were loaded with top of the line, School District, Chevy Suburbans and Ford Expeditions.
Yeah, they’re broke alright. They’re talking about closing and consolidating schools. Talking about cutting programs and laying off teachers. But there’s no way in hell the administrators should have to travel in anything but the best.
What a crock…
Kevin McGinty
www.rm235.blogspot.com
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Beecher Island: The Conclusion...
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
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
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...
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