Patriot Dispatches

From My CP: Vacation Road Trip, Harvest and the End of “Winter’s Comin'”

I saw snow a few weeks ago, just a few flakes that couldn’t stick but it was snow.  That was the point when our two seasons changed from “Winter’s Coming” to “Winter’s Here.”  I put on my long johns as soon as I got home.  We had a little bit of “indian summer” but there’s 2 inches of snow and temperatures in the high 20’s forecast for Friday and the weekend.  Winter is here, how bad it gets is entirely up to winter.  We’re screwed from here on out.  Chris Knight sums it up well and anyone whose read my ramblings knows how close this strikes to home, “North Dakota” and me ain’t that far apart.

“I’d seen it snow that hard before, I couldn’t see the cabin from the stable door.”  It’s a common practice here for folks who have animals to care for, cows or sheep or chickens, pigs, any kind of animal; to run a rope from the house to the barn to the hog house, to where-ever it needs go.  The only reason is so you can find your way back when you’re finished taking care of the animals.  The animals come first and it does get that ugly outside.  You learn to deal with it.

The Republican Party is at the same place, “it was cold when I got home, the fire was out, the cabin was cold…”  John McLame, Bitch McConnell, Lamar Alexander, Paul Ryan…  RINOs one and all, we may as well have voted for Hillary.  The republican Party cabin is mighty cold right now, they haven’t wanted us since we arose as the TEA Party and they like us even less now.  You’ve seen it, Conservative equals white supremacist, constitutional equals white supremacist, free speech equals white supremacist, the Second Amendment equals white supremacist…  The list goes on and on.  Here’s a little somethin’ from Chris Knight that the Republican Party ought to think of, somethin’ the establishment ought to keep in mind…  Not everyone forgets easily…

I’ve been gone for a while.  I would apologize but it was a well needed and rewarding break, so y’all can kiss my ass.  LOL.  I drove down to Kansas for my sister’s wedding, an outstanding redneck affair in a tiny bar in a tiny town in the middle of fly-over country.  Bumfuck, Kansas doesn’t even have an airport that anything bigger than a C130 could land on although the AirTractors doing crop dusting are in and out all day long.  There’s good folks there.  They work for a livin’ and resent anyone who is unwilling to put in the same effort.

I drove down the Missouri River Valley after passing Yankton, SD, with the bluffs on my left.  Beautiful country, the stuff that you picture in your mind’s eye when folks speak of the “American Dream.”  A 15 or 20 mile wide, river formed valley cut from the northern prairie.  When Lewis and Clark began their journey they detoured to speak with French-Canadian trappers at the falls of the Sioux River.  The trappers had operated a trading post for a hundred years near the falls.  That is Sioux Falls, SD today.  A hundred miles south is Yankton and I29 takes a little jog into Iowa then veers back into Nebraska.  From there its four or five hours south to Bumfuck, Kansas.  It’s all the same beautiful drive, redstone cliffs a hundred yards high on the left, only a half mile away and the ridges of the uncut prairie just discernible through a haze a few miles away on the right.  Corn and soybeans and corn and soybeans from horizon to horizon.

The wedding was nice the folks in Bumfuck were regular Americans.  Damn fine folks.  They were a bit taken aback at our first meeting, I’m not the kind of person you expect to meet around there, or anywhere really.  I have a good many tattoos I cannot hide, not that I would want to…  Including an “All-seeing Eye” on the back of my shaved head.  Add an eight inch wild and minimally trimmed beard, a waxed handle-bar mustache with a full curl and my favorite leather top-hat.  It starts to paint a picture in your mind, but then you notice the miniature Senior Parachutist’s Badge and the Combat Infantryman’s Badge on my hat.  Somethin’ ain’t quite as it appears.  Once folks in Bumfuck figured that out we had a great time.

I left the next morning not because I was tired of Bumfuck but because of my next stop.  My well earned veteran’s medical benefits are the equivalent of medicaid if I’m not near a military base.  Possibly worse because I earned them I didn’t just demand them, ya’ know?  It makes a difference, I invested some blood, sweat and tears.  So anyway, my wife’s medical issues demand she is near a military base, our finances demand I have a regular paycheck.  She lives outside Ft Carson, CO and I’m bringing in a check on the Couteau-des-prairie in Minnesota.  It had been 15 months since I’d seen her or held her in my arms so I wasn’t wasting time with even the best met strangers.

Northern Kansas was rougher country than I expected, ever climbing hills obviously leading into the Rockies but the thunderstorms in front of me hid the ever nearing mountains.  Near sunset the storms passed and I had a view that took my breath away.  I got to Colorado Springs about three hours later.

Every minute with Doris was exceptional but the city bothered me.  Its really hard for me to hide my dislike of people these days.  A day or two before I left on my trip I was standing out in my front yard while the dogs were being “good puppies.”  I was being a good puppy too and three cars drove by my house.  What the hell?  I’ve spent entire days and not seen three cars now there’s three at 0600?  While I’m trying to piss?  I gotta find someplace less well-traveled.  Imagine my dismay at the traffic in Colorado Springs.  Peeing outside wasn’t even an option, what kind of life is that?

I listened to the bugle calls for a good solid week, I stood for Taps several nights, with a tear in my eye and a pounding in my heart, something an overpaid child in the NFL will never know.  They restored my soul, Once a Soldier, Always a Soldier.

My drive home was highways and byways through northwest Nebraska, the sand hills.  An absolutely remote, rough country.  I’d be shittin’ in tall cotton if I lived there.  Then through Valentine, NE and down main street of the Rosebud Reservation.  Black Lives Matter should look into their future as dependents of gov’t largess and perhaps rethink their path.  Some cultures are toxic.

Once I got back, my brother, bless his pea-pickin’ heart, invited me to suffer through three weeks of farming.  He likes to make sure I remember why I left here when I graduated high school and stayed away for thirty years.  I love farmers to death, they’re damn fine people, but I don’t wanna be one!

On the bright side Deer Season is this weekend, my entire family will be out in the frozen wastes slaying cute deers left and right.  I’ll try to post a video of us gutting one, we can get banned from YouTube like Phil Robertson and CRTV.

I’ve missed an assload of subjects to post on, from the Vegas Shooting and it’s politicization to Chucky Schumer decrying the politicization of yet another islamic terrorism attack.  There’s been a half dozen RINO congressmen and senators promise to retire, thank the Lord!  The NFL is still bleeding fans from its jugular, thank the gods.  I hope it dies in pitiful starvation.  Here’s a song about my white privelege for Black Lies Matter.




Retired Paratrooper, Biker, Tattoo Artist

About nessa

Retired Paratrooper, Biker, Tattoo Artist
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Allen Nessvassar bushmillsLady_Penguin Recent comment authors
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Lord have mercy, Nessa. You write with such exquisite artistry, they’re paintings, and almost too painful to read in the way a holy picture is almost too profound to gaze upon.

Spent many years in Colorado. Not the same as it once was, the progressives moved in…but still pockets of the real, rugged Americans.