The Usual Suspects For The Week

No. 1

Woody’s: Mineral Wells, Texas

Woody’s is the type of place, when you open the door, if you’re not from around here, the piano music stops and everyone looks to see who’s the newest sodbuster in town.

If that ever happens to you, just announce to all:

“I’m not from Texas, but I got here as fast as I could”

With that, you should be good to go.

Not more than a few hundred yards from Woody’s, is where I slid my Ranger pickup off the road down an embankment and upside down during the Texas ice storm of 2006.

The Chevron station, time stamp 0:32, is where I parked my hobbled, totaled pickup on that freezing December day.

The cab was smashed and the frame bent … but it was mobile enough to make it to the gas station.

When I slid off the road, down the embankment into oncoming traffic on Hwy 180, I thought (as the pickup rolled over), “well, this is it, this is how I’m going out.”

There’s no way oncoming traffic’s going to stop … not on the ice … I braced for impact.

I reckoned on my own death.

It’s amazing how the almighty can engineer circumstances to be so perfect and so personal; it’s tailored specifically for you … to understand who’s really in control.

As the pickup came to a stop, upside down … the anticipated impact never came. Instead, within a few seconds, I had a woman knocking on my upside down driver’s window asking if I was ok.

I rolled it up (to go down) … it was a hand crank window. I unlocked the seatbelt and crawled outside. It was bitterly cold, windy, wet and sleeting.

What I saw was a line of pickups …. some Dually’s with stock trailers that had jackknifed on the ice … all stopped and the ‘Bubbas’ getting out to help with the overturned Ranger.

It took maybe five to seven of them to right the truck. I was in shock and grief but thankful as well.

I assured them I was ok. They had done their part and so went back to their own business. I then changed the right rear tire as the crash impact had blown out the seal.

By the time it was over, my hands were freezing … I got in and limped the truck to the Chevron station.

The point is this:

That crash revealed the character of the people at the time.

They put their own lives on hold (even if just temporarily) to do the right thing … to be the Good Samaritan.

So too, have current world events revealed the character of the people at the time.

That revelation is: The cowards and the corrupt have been thoroughly exposed.

Unprepared or unwilling to step up and be counted. Instead, they have done what comes naturally.

They have retreated.

Figuratively (or actually) building their back-yard decks so they can watch the financial and societal collapse in ‘comfort’.

On the flip side: The independent thinkers, leaders and the brave have been identified as well.

Those who are first generation of immigrant families (from communist countries) understand perfectly what’s happening.

They’re on a different path … taking action, getting ready.

All of which brings us to the next bullet item:

No. 2

Taboo Scaboo

Scaboo is our thoroughly illegal ‘urban rooster’.

Here he is, inside the backyard hen house with his ‘no crow’ collar clearly visible.

There’s no harm though as it’s relatively loose. It’s used more for psychological reasons; his or ours, not sure.

In an earlier update, having a rooster at this location is forbidden. Hens were recently ok’d when a previous city ordinance was overturned.

However, there are strict rules on how many and the located distance from other properties.

What’s the point?

It’s possible and probably likely, there’s much more going on here than just skirting the ‘rules’.

It’s been a mental exercise to engineer a method to keep him without the neighbors being aware; if they do know, without them complaining.

Scaboo has an ‘inside coop’ that consists of a used dog kennel with pine pellet bedding.

He’s on a schedule. Inside the house overnight; then put outside when he seems to be ready (stopped crowing).

If he starts back up, he’s brought in again. That’s the way it’s been for about the past month.

The amount of support received (physical or moral) from family members has been close to zero; more like, below zero.

“You’ll have to get rid of him”

“It’s against the rules”

“I wonder how long you can keep that up”

(bringing him in at night).

These comments have come from family that whether they know it or not, have already identified themselves as casualties.

This is not about the rooster itself.

Rather, it’s about having the mental elasticity to take a situation and make it work.

It’s sort of a practice run for the main event … whatever that’s going to be.

Quick thinking or action will be required.

How’s anyone with a closed mind going to figure out how to secure food, water or anything else when supplies are interrupted; when mental elasticity is the difference between survival and not.

In closing, here’s a brief video of our contraband rooster enjoying a dust bath … with the hens wanting some camera time as well.

Stay Tuned

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