OLD RUSTY BUCKET
Same as before: outdoors, inspirational, irritations,humor, happy, sad, jokes, poems, whatever you readers would like comments on (just be prepared for any answer--will try to keep it family friendly), remember when?, back when I was (you were) a kid/teen/young adult, old poot, etc. Wade in with whatever you like. This blog is for YOU FOLKS, it'll be what YOU make it.
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WHAT ABOUT ALL THE BEEFIN' N.O. REFUGEES?
WATCH THIS, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE TURNS AND WALKS AWAY
WHAT ARE THESE?
MAKE SURE YOUR NUTS ARE TIGHT.
WHERE'VE ALL THE HUMMERS GONE?
"BRISTOL PALIN PREGNANT" SO????
HELP ME BUILD
2-1-1 EVACUATION REGISTRATION CLOSES @ LANDFALL MINUS 72 HOURS
THE "FINE WINE" CONNISSUER
A GREAT DOG STORY
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With LILBLUEBOOKS sensitivities we'd better not tell her that not TOOO badly violated Depends can be aired out and worn again. It may take a few days...
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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Monday, February 25, 2008 at 07:34 AM
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What do you think the reason was that the NEW YORK TIMES ran that presumedly ficticious story that John McCain MAY have had an inappropriate relationship with a female lobbyist?
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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Thursday, February 21, 2008 at 05:45 PM
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GARON SENT:Aspen Times Weekly Opinion Articles

In election 2008, don’t forget Angry White Man



Gary Hubbell   February 9, 2008
There is a great amount of interest in this year’s presidential elections, as everybody seems to recognize that our next president has to be a lot better than George Bush. The Democrats are riding high with two groundbreaking candidates — a woman and an African-American — while the conservative Republicans are in a quandary about their party’s nod to a quasi-liberal maverick, John McCain.

Each candidate is carefully pandering to a smorgasbord of special-interest groups, ranging from gay, lesbian and transgender people to children of illegal immigrants to working mothers to evangelical Christians.

There is one group no one has recognized, and it is the group that will decide the election: the Angry White Man. The Angry White Man comes from all economic backgrounds, from dirt-poor to filthy rich. He represents all geographic areas in America, from urban sophisticate to rural redneck, deep South to mountain West, left Coast to Eastern Seaboard.

His common traits are that he isn’t looking for anything from anyone — just the promise to be able to make his own way on a level playing field. In many cases, he is an independent businessman and employs several people. He pays more than his share of taxes and works hard.

The victimhood syndrome buzzwords — “disenfranchised,” “marginalized” and “voiceless” — don’t resonate with him. “Press ‘one’ for English” is a curse-word to him. He’s used to picking up the tab, whether it’s the company Christmas party, three sets of braces, three college educations or a beautiful wedding.

He believes the Constitution is to be interpreted literally, not as a “living document” open to the whims and vagaries of a panel of judges who have never worked an honest day in their lives.

The Angry White Man owns firearms, and he’s willing to pick up a gun to defend his home and his country. He is willing to lay down his life to defend the freedom and safety of others, and the thought of killing someone who needs killing really doesn’t bother him.

The Angry White Man is not a metrosexual, a homosexual or a victim. Nobody like him drowned in Hurricane Katrina — he got his people together and got the hell out, then went back in to rescue those too helpless and stupid to help themselves, often as a police officer, a National Guard soldier or a volunteer firefighter.

His last name and religion don’t matter. His background might be Italian, English, Polish, German, Slavic, Irish, or Russian, and he might have Cherokee, Mexican, or Puerto Rican mixed in, but he considers himself a white American.

He’s a man’s man, the kind of guy who likes to play poker, watch football, hunt white-tailed deer, call turkeys, play golf, spend a few bucks at a strip club once in a blue moon, change his own oil and build things. He coaches baseball, soccer and football teams and doesn’t ask for a penny. He’s the kind of guy who can put an addition on his house with a couple of friends, drill an oil well, weld a new bumper for his truck, design a factory and publish books. He can fill a train with 100,000 tons of coal and get it to the power plant on time so that you keep the lights on and never know what it took to flip that light switch.

Women either love him or hate him, but they know he’s a man, not a dishrag. If they’re looking for someone to walk all over, they’ve got the wrong guy. He stands up straight, opens doors for women and says “Yes, sir” and “No, ma’am.”

He might be a Republican and he might be a Democrat; he might be a Libertarian or a Green. He knows that his wife is more emotional than rational, and he guides the family in a rational manner.

He’s not a racist, but he is annoyed and disappointed when people of certain backgrounds exhibit behavior that typifies the worst stereotypes of their race. He’s willing to give everybody a fair chance if they work hard, play by the rules and learn English.

Most important, the Angry White Man is pissed off. When his job site becomes flooded with illegal workers who don’t pay taxes and his wages drop like a stone, he gets righteously angry. When his job gets shipped overseas, and he has to speak to some incomprehensible idiot in India for tech support, he simmers. When Al Sharpton comes on TV, leading some rally for reparations for slavery or some such nonsense, he bites his tongue and he remembers. When a child gets charged with carrying a concealed weapon for mistakenly bringing a penknife to school, he takes note of who the local idiots are in education and law enforcement.

He also votes, and the Angry White Man loathes Hillary Clinton. Her voice reminds him of a shovel scraping a rock. He recoils at the mere sight of her on television. Her very image disgusts him, and he cannot fathom why anyone would want her as their leader. It’s not that she is a woman. It’s that she is who she is. It’s the liberal victim groups she panders to, the “poor me” attitude that she represents, her inability to give a straight answer to an honest question, his tax dollars that she wants to give to people who refuse to do anything for themselves.

There are many millions of Angry White Men. Four million Angry White Men are members of the National Rifle Association, and all of them will vote against Hillary Clinton, just as the great majority of them voted for George Bush.

He hopes that she will be the Democratic nominee for president in 2008, and he will make sure that she gets beaten like a drum.


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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Sunday, February 17, 2008 at 04:10 PM
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WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

 

On a recent Thursday morning a black truck and black ink both appeared RED to me. “Is this what happens when you have a stroke?”

 

Dr. #1 in Hobbs, NM, dilated my eyes and told me to wait in the waiting room (Jokingly, all those gals in the waiting room looked better after that). The doctor next checked my eyes and exclaimed, “Your left eye is bulging twice as big as it was when you first came in here. I’m sending you to Dr. #2 for an MRI. I think there might be some retina involvement too. Now the light’ll really be bright when you go outside.”   What an understatement! No wonder people get chapped when unauthorized flash pictures are taken at close range.

 

The four or five mile drive to the hospital during noon hour traffic got scarier when everything seemed to turn pink. The only other time things turned pink on me was after core drilling my foot on a broken shaving mug handle (our son had bought the cobalt

blue mug so it was a keepsake. That hunk of meat sticking out of the handle and blood in the bathtub were followed by a pink room then everything went black.)  ”Please, Lord, don’t let me pass out and run over somebody.”

Dr. #2 thought he also saw some retina tears so he sent me to a retina specialist in Lubbock. On Friday, Dr. #3 reported, “I don’t see anything wrong with your retina but the pink has me puzzled. Go have that MRI so we can tell if there’s something putting pressure behind your eye.”

 

By Saturday evening the pink tint was gone. On Monday the MRI revealed nothing except for a graphic picture of how far my left eye pooched out (it has every since the stroke 5-1/2 years ago).

 

What’s your opinion on what was happening when all that started? Was there a natural healing before the examination in Lubbock? Or, was it miraculous?  Whatever it was, it made me all that much more thankful for my sight that lets me see the last power pole on the horizon. GOD IS GOOD.

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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Thursday, February 14, 2008 at 08:08 PM
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My stiff right leg makes it difficult to put on socks at times, especially when untrimmed toenails snag the material. My sister Mary Sue did me a big favor recently by trimming the snaggers. The socks should last much longer now. It's embarrassing to have to admit you're late for work because you couldn't get your sock on.

Anyone have similar stories? 

 

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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Wednesday, February 13, 2008 at 06:56 PM
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GARON SENT: 
Sounds True : 
One day my mother was out and my dad was in charge of me and my brother who is four years older than I am. I was maybe one and a half years old and had just recovered from an accident in which my arm had been broken among other injuries. 
Someone had given me a little 'tea set' as a get-well gift and it was one of my favorite toys. Daddy was in the living room engrossed in the evening news and my brother was playing nearby in the living room when I brought Daddy a little cup of 'tea,' which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Mom came home. My Dad made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was 'just the cutest thing!'  
My Mom waited, and sure enough, here I come down the hall with a cup of tea for Daddy and she watches him drink it up, then says, 'Did it ever occur to you that the only place that baby can reach to get water is the toilet?' And sure enough!
 
 
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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Monday, February 11, 2008 at 03:17 PM
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  GARON sent this: Walking The Dog

A man was flying from Seattle to San Francisco . Unexpectedly, the plane was diverted to Sacramento along the way. The flight attendant explained that there would be a delay, and if the passengers wanted to get off the aircraft the plane would re-board in 50 minutes.
Everybody got off the plane except one lady who was blind. The man had noticed her as he walked by and could tell the lady was blind because her Seeing Eye dog lay quietly underneath the seats in front of her throughout the entire flight.
He could also tell she had flown this very flight before because the pilot approached her, and calling her by name, said, "Kathy, we are in Sacramento for almost an hour. Would you like to get off and stretch your legs?" The blind lady replied, "No thanks, but maybe Buddy would like to stretch his legs."
Picture this:
All the people in the gate area came to a complete standstill when they looked up and saw the pilot walk off the plane with a Seeing Eye dog!
The pilot was even wearing sunglasses. People scattered. They not only tried to change planes, but they were trying to change airlines!
True story... Have a great day and remember...

 
 
THINGS AREN'T ALWAYS AS THEY APPEAR.
A DAY WITHOUT LAUGHTER IS A DAY WASTED!!!
 

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posted by OLDRUSTYBUCKET1 on Monday, February 11, 2008 at 08:28 AM
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