Saturday, May 9, 2020


This shit has to end. 

This quarantine or whatever it is. 

It seems like it goes like this: The powers that be decide what is essential and what isn't essential. 

And the arrests? Seriously? A guy alone on a beach is arrested. 

Hey, here is the deal: If you want to live where you can have a little home, ,with a little garden, with a little family (the government will tell you how many kids you can have ) and go in your yard and walk around and panic when the police come by because you are wondering if you DID something, said something or WENT somewhere they didn’t like, go for it. 

That’s not AMERICA, it's China or Russia or wherever.

Seriously, why do we need the government, anyway? Our roads suck, it's like pothole heaven around where I live, the playground is closed, you cant do a damn thing.


 Our freedoms are dwindling away. Taxes? C’mon, man. Where does all that money go?  I want it itemized. If I am paying “Adam the alleged child trafficker Schiff's” salary, I want out. Do Nancy Pelosi and Biden get paid by ME and the American people? Why? What the hell do they DO? Lots of worthless folks, treasonous folks in our government. Especially, the Democrats, the party of slavery. Oh, yes, they were/are. It’s okay, there is a feeling in this country that Communism /Socialism is the way to go. If that happens, I’ll be in Idaho. So far out there….

What if everyone fended for themselves? And your neighbor realized that you are entitled to your space and then his neighbor realized the same thing and we lived happily ever after?  Is that a pipe dream? Maybe. But before all that could happen, the government will do whatever they can do to show that they are in control of your life. IN CONTROL. Oh my gosh, put your mask on, here comes the police! 

It seems to me like it’s a lot of:

The people aren’t smart enough to think for themselves

Congress-We make decisions on what’s best for us

Billionaires are now health experts. (Screw Mark Cuban, screw Bill Gates. Just because you have money, we should listen to you? And lebron whatever? Just play and take 3 steps and shut up.) 

 Of course, Epstein didn’t kill himself. 

Canada’s Prime Whatever is a hopeless pussy who thinks that the world is a kind place with wonderful little rainbows and unicorns all dancing around. Bet he is protected by the guns that he outlawed. Stand up for yourselves, CANADIANS! What the hell? Y'all just bend over and take it? I hope not.

Trudeau in black face

Church is bad, Walmart is good


Thursday, May 7, 2020


How about that coward Trudeau in Canada? Outlawing 1500 weapons with a pen held in his non calloused little hand? Another pussy in the world who needs to spend about 10 years chained to a power rack, squatting. And that's why we have the SECOND AMENDMENT. And you can like it or not, but why should the government be the only people with weapons? Ah, so you can be helpless against them and be ruled and have zero freedoms. Our freedom has already been compromised enough. And a motivated populous can't fight a government when that government has superior fire power? Of course they can.  Just ask the Vietcong if that works. 

Remember World Gym in California where they had the outside deck for training? That's what every gym needs. Training outside is so freaking cool, it gives you some type of visceral, primal feeling. It would be great to have a squat rack between some trees like Joe Kinney, the first guy to close the number 4 gripper. He built a bar and put some big old cement plates on there and got two trees and put some hooks on the trees and there ya go, a squat rack. Every time he passed the squat rack he would do a few squats.Before breakfast. I think it was like 335 pounds. He was a little guy, too, like 170 pounds. He was getting that tonnage in, wasn't he? Going to the shed to get out the lawnmower? Get some squats in. Going to the machine shop? Five reps of squats. Pay the toll, my man. I think it's great. 

I just like when someone's out there just getting it done. No gym? No problem, I have a couple of trees and a shop to make a bar and hell, what does a gym have that Joe Kinney doesn't have? He has what he needs. I have his grip DVD around here somewhere. He could explode beer cans with his bare hands. I seen it myself.  

Then he could go grab his buddy from down the mountain some and do stuff like this:

So you do a few squats as you are going back and forth to the shed or garage getting all the fishing stuff ready in the morning and then you have EARNED the right to have fun with your friend and go fishing and have some beers and build a big old fire and cook some steaks on a fire and eat them with your hands and feel satisfied that you had a great day.

All of it goes together, the lifting outside, the fishing, the fire, the camaraderie. It just appeals to me, that type of day. If you haven't done that in your life, do it. Even if it's with a kettlebell. Do 300 total swings, run up a hill or something and then shoot some skeet or hunt or fish and then build an amazing, roaring fire and toast the day. I remember when my son James was 8, we went on a fishing trip way out in the country in Maryland. I brought a 55 pound kettlebell and had to do 300 swings before we could fish every day. My son didn't "get it" at that age. He was always saying, "HURRY UP DAD! THE FISH ARE BITING!" 

But you have to earn it. I love that stuff.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Dog Days

I just walked in from watching my 8-year-old hit the punching bag in my shed. It's quarantine work, you know how it is. While he was punching, I was having a few Budweiser’s. I had already done my work out for today, I did bent over rows and rode the exercise bike early this morning. My Black Labrador, Rebel who is a year old,  joined us in the shed. 

I have to tell you something about Rebel. He loves beer, Budweiser in particular. Now, relax, he just licks the top of the beer can a little after I take a sip. The problem is, he loves beer. Listen, I train my dog. He heals without a leash, can sit on a whistle at 50 yards, listens to me almost all of the time, hangs on my every word. Except when it comes to beer. All good behavior goes out the window when the prospect of licking the top of a Budweiser is present. My son was hitting the bag and I was sitting on a compound bow target and having a few beers and Rebel was jumping around, licking me all over, circling me. Nudging me to take another sip so he can have his lick. He was going crazy. He does this all of the time.

But that’s okay, I can overlook it. Because I love my dog. 

I did not grow up with dogs, but I have had black Labradors since 1990. In fact, I can't imagine life without a black Labrador. I'm sure that other dogs are fine and all, little white fluffy dogs and long hot dog looking dogs and Huskies and Chihuahuas and I'm sure that yellow Labs and chocolate Labs are fine, too. I do have a soft spot for Malinois, after being around a Special Forces buddy who had one. Awesome dogs. But I am a black Lab guy and I reckon that I always will be.

Back to Rebel. This whole quarantine thing has made him into a mess. No, what has happened is that he has made my life a mess. 

He demands attention from me all of the time. Let me give some examples.

I end up sleeping on the couch in the living room every night, because my 8-year-old kicks me out of my own bed and he gives off so much heat and punches me in his sleep that I head to the couch in the living room. The problem is that Rebel’s kennel is in the living room. This means that daddy is here, and now he can demand something from me. And let me tell you, he would demand to eat or be taken outside, but I fool him. I purposely don't look at Rebel as I pass by at 1:30 in the morning. If I look at him, his tail would begin to wag, and he'd wake out of his slumber. But I'm smart, see. I ignore him. In fact, I cover my face with a pillow sometimes or put up a laundry basket to block his view of me while I sleep. I can FEEL his eyes on me while I am lying there. And around 530 am, whether I am blocking his view or not, he begins pacing in the kennel. I hear him and I open my eyes and I say to myself, self, he's not going to quit until you get up. And he doesn't whine, he just paces and then stops and looks at me. I can feel those brown eyes burning into my soul. So, I get up and let him outside. Then I get dressed and after I shake the cobwebs off of my brain, I go outside and retrieve with him. He's my hunting dog , so we have drills that we work on. At 530 in the morning, my enthusiasm for all of this is not quite there yet, so we get the drills done but what I'm really trying to do is make him tired. These dogs have unlimited energy. Then after ten minutes or so, we go in and I feed him. I put his food down and he sits until I tell him that it's ok to eat. Sometimes, he just stands about five feet away from me and looks at me. We have been doing this forever, I say, you have to sit to be fed. He looks at me like he doesn't get it. Mind you, we do this every meal. Then I say, SIT! And his butt hits the ground like it was his first time. Then I tell him OK and he rushes over and eats like a madman. 

I wash some dishes and wait for him to eat and then I actually make the mistake some days of trying to lie back down again, but NOOOO, Rebel wants to sit on the couch with me and be petted and to be told how wonderful he is. So, I get up and he lies across my lap and acts like I am the most important thing in the world. But he can’t help himself; he will jump off of my lap after about 10 minutes and grab a sock or a pen or a pillowcase or sometimes a whole blanket and start chewing on it, or sometimes just bring some of that stuff to me. Hunting Labs and most Labs have to have something in their mouths all of the time. I had a  45-pound barbell delivered to me the other day in a cardboard sleeve. He tried to pick it up and carry it around the yard. Yes, he did. He’s a retrieving fool. 

I realize that you are probably saying to yourself, Just how old is this guy? How can he let a dog run his life? 

Dammit! Rebel is looking at me right now.

I’m not taking him out again, I’m not taking him out again. 

And it continues throughout the day. I'll try to write and there he is, nudging my hand or he is in the kennel groaning. Yes, groaning. He knows that I hate whining, so he sort of does this groan/moan thing. And sometimes he gets the hiccups when he is staring a hole through me and I point at him and say, you have the hiccups! I like to make fun of him sometimes because he busts my chops so much. 

As the day continues, I take Rebel out and retrieve with him numerous times. I'm embarrassed to say , but it's like fifteen times a day. Yes, fifteen. He's nuts, I already told you that he's nuts. By 8 o'clock at night, he's pretty exhausted. Or is it that he exhausted me and now he is satisfied? Either way, I like watching him sleep and dream and bark in his sleep with his mouth closed and kick his little legs like he is running while he's dreaming. I get him back by telling him that he looks silly while he is dreaming. 

But I say it in my head, of course. I don't want him to wake up and make me do something else for him. 

It just occurred to me. Maybe I am the one who is trained. Damn.

Thursday, April 9, 2020

Old Man at the Pond

I drove down to Salem County, New Jersey the other day to take the family fishing. We drove by farms and desolate roads and empty strip malls, and it felt like there was a pall hanging over the land, like after something really bad happened or maybe it was thirty years ago when there weren't so many people living around there. 

I was looking for a place where nobody else was, a place where I didn’t have to be around other humans that may just be sick or hell, just folks in general. I have had enough of folks in general. It’s mostly like that for me. 

We found a state game land pond where we could fish. I fished for a while, but we ran out of line after I had to cut mine one too many times, so I worked on some boxing stuff with my 8-year-old and enjoyed being out in the country.

An old Chevrolet truck pulled up , and of course I was dreading it, somebody pulling up and me having to tell them to stay away. But I still waved, it’s what you do in the country and then I saw it was an older gentleman getting out. He pulled up, but he was still far away enough that he wasn't gonna get any of us sick if he had the dreaded virus that has paralyzed the world.

How’s it going?

Oh, it’s going ok. 

I asked him if he had fished here before and if there were any fish in the pond and what baits he usually used. My older son was fishing with a spinner bait and the old man offered him some minnows out of his bucket that he had on the bed of his truck. Ah, that’s ok, I said, thinking that my son would get sick if he went over there. And the old man said, look, I will open the bucket and stand over here away from you if you want some minnows. And my son got a minnow and said thank you and started fishing with it.

And I thought what a shame that it has come to this, where you can’t shake another man's hand or get a few minnows out of a bucket without worrying about catching the plague. 

And we kept talking. About dogs and training dogs and just how great dogs where to have in the family. He talked about when he was young and how he'd been in the Marines in the 1970's during  the Vietnam era but didn’t have to go over there, and how lucky he was that he didn’t. But he talked about his friends coming back from Vietnam and getting spit on and how messed up it all was back then, just a bunch of kids doing what they needed to do for their country and not understanding why folks hated them for doing what they were called to do.

He started talking about he and his wife just getting back from Mexico and not being able to find weed anywhere in Mexico but that he could find plenty when he and his wife went to Jamaica and that hell, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he smoked weed. And he told me that dammit, he couldn't find Miller High Life anywhere in any foreign place that he visited. 

He really liked beer, he said.

And he asked if I wanted a beer.

I said no because you may have the virus and then you’d  give it to me and then I'll be really sorry that I got everyone sick just over the fact that I had to have a beer.

But I really wanted one, because there is something about sharing a beer with a stranger , like breaking bread of sorts , and everyone sort of relaxes and starts talking about everything.

I didn’t get a beer from him.

But I searched around the back seat of the truck and found an old semi warm Budweiser and drank that while we talked some more.

He talked about his son being a county police officer in Maryland and how his daughter had all the smarts in the world but she had never really applied herself and now she had a job that she really didn’t like and he seemed disappointed about his daughter but plenty proud of his son , who just made Sergeant down in Maryland.

We agreed about the gun grabbers not understanding just what it was like to shoot and to have a tradition of the hunting and the outdoors and why New Jersey laws are straight out of some communist manifesto , and just why are the laws made by know-nothing politicians up north in Newark and Jersey City. Damn you, North Jersey.

After a while, I felt like it was time to go. I knew we were in his favorite fishing spot and we had been there long enough. It was his turn.

We wished each other luck with this whole thing, and I was not quite sure what the feeling was that I had inside of me as we pulled away and waved to the old man. 

Maybe I was feeling that things that I really loved to do, like talking to someone that I just met and telling stories over a beer or two or casting a line into a pond with a stranger would just always feel a little different to me. Like there would always be this hesitancy about getting too close to someone.

 I  guess that I was feeling closed in, and  I know that I was feeling a little lost and plenty sad. There was something foreboding about this day and there was something that just felt off. The ride home was pretty quiet, maybe my family was feeling it also. It was just different, just very different. 

Steel Reflections Podcast with Chuck Miller

Steel Reflections Podcast!

Friday, April 3, 2020

Brandon and the Bees

When I was coaching college football in NAIA Division I years ago during the late 80's and early 90's, and I was the strength coach, defensive line coach, practice and game field supervisor, and laundry technician (I washed the uniforms), there was no separate budget for anything. I never heard the word budget. I guess the head coach just bought some stuff when he wanted it, or if we needed something for the weight room, I guess that I  would beg for a new bar or some dum bells . But I didn't know any better, so I didn't worry about it. It never occurred to me that we should have a strength and conditioning budget.

So, when we wanted something for the players, we had to get imaginative.

I was massively into Muay Thai training for the football players, courtesy of the Dallas Cowboys and Randy White and their amazing strength coach, Dr. Bob Ward. Ward and White came out with a VHS tape called, "Creating Big Plays", that detailed their unique Muay Thai and hand fighting techniques. Problem was, we needed some Thai pads for our players. At that time in America, there were no Thai pads around. Muay Thai was new to this country, MMA wasn't around and the only Thai pads that I ever saw were on the video that Ward and White produced. We could kick the football shields, they were cool, but way too big.  I needed pads small enough for each hand and they needed to be big enough to kick, punch, knee and elbow.

Back then, I had a black Labrador named Dutch. There were a bunch of fields where I took him so that I could work on his retrieving drills for hunting. I rotated places. I had the Broad River when I wanted to take him swimming, I had the fire trails for some straight in the woods training and I had a big high school field with lots of room for all kinds of drills. 

I noticed one day when Dutch and I were at the big high school field working on retrieving that there was a bunch of old football hand shields sort of in a pile on the edge of a wooded area, and they were just the right size for Muay Thai! So, the next day when I went back to the office, I called the head coach at the high school to see if they still used these hand shields or if I could have them to use.  He said, "Sure, Coach, you can have them, but I gotta warn you, there's a bunch of bees back there." 

I was like, "Oh great!" And then I called a few of my defensive linemen. I think it was Brandon and Brewer, both defensive tackles. Told them we had a mission, and we had to get this done. Back then, you could go pick up your players in your truck, hang out with them, get to know them. They were my friends. Yeah, shit has changed. So, I loaded up two of my players and we headed to the field. I explained the situation. I think, looking back, that Brandon volunteered for the job to go in, get the pads and beat the bees out of there. He'd volunteer for anything. He was one tough son of a gun, hunted wild boar with a knife. In fact, he once presented me with a VHS copy of one of his hunts in slow motion where he jumps in there and takes care of the boar. "Country Boy" from Hank Jr. was played over top of it. Badass.

So, he goes into the woods and he grabs the shields and I'm like, "Do you have them? YES! C'MON!" And he's like, "There ain't no bees, Coach!"

And then he goes, "OH SHIT!" and he starts running really fast. I mean, real fast. Herschel Walker would've been like- who is that guy who just ran past me?-Brandon was yelling, BEEEEEEEES!!! and I started running and laughing and he was running and laughing, and he only got stung a few times. He didn’t even complain about it. And we were so excited to get those pads and then he handed them to me (as I was rolling up the window as fast as I could just in case some bees were coming) and the pads looked great on the outside , but they were all rotten on the inside. 

We counted it as mission accomplished, with light injuries. It was worth it because of the mission. And seeing Brandon run so damn fast.

It would be years before I could get a real set of Thai pads.

Sunday, March 22, 2020


So this virus is no fun, is it?

Makes you feel a little vulnerable, doesn't it?

Makes you ask yourself just what the hell is going on, doesn't it?

Makes you ask yourself, am I ready if something really does happen where I need to SURVIVE?

I saw that background checks for guns are up 300% recently.  I wonder how many of those folks trying to buy guns are the same people that agree with all of the bullshit laws that the Bloomberg/Biden/Killary faction are trying to pass to further limit our constitutional rights? I bet there's a bunch of them. You see, that's what gun owners have been trying to tell you pukes all along: It's about protecting yourself and your family. But thats okay, keep listening to the politicians that think that you can't be trusted with guns but they can be protected by them 24 hours a day.  Don't you see that's wrong? Hypocrites and losers. They can't hunt or fish or shoot a gun or fight because they never had to. Bring those cowards out on the streets or in the woods and let them fend for themselves. Bet they ain't waiting in line for groceries. I wish Biden would call me or my friends (or even my 8 year old) out to fight like he did to the worker the other day. My 8 year old would whip his punk ass. I guess that all of this makes me pretty frustrated because I see it as a common sense thing and it irks me that people don't have common sense. 

Reminds me of a columnist from the Washington Post years ago, Carl Rowan, who was all about gun control this and gun control that but ended up shooting a teenager that trespassed into his yard illegally with a gun that he received from his son, an FBI agent.  It was okay for him, but dammit, not for you, you lowly peasant! His defense? This is what he said:

"I am for gun control," Rowan said, "but I am not for unilateral gun control, in which I leave my family naked to the druggies and the crooks out there."

NO SHIT!?!?!!

Reminds me of all the politicians who agreed with forced busing in the 1970's but then sent their kids to private schools. Not so fast, you regular, common person! Pass me the Grey Poupon!

The good thing is that now with all of the cameras on phones and social media is that these hypocrites are being exposed more than ever. Politicians  wanna tell us about morals and how to live but they get their kids jobs using influence and dump stocks using insider info and make millions while regular people lose everything.

But it's fine. I'll stick with my kind and they can stick with theirs. Keep trusting the folks who want to rule your lives and who say that they have your best interests at heart all the while denying you your rights as a human as they stay above it all, getting richer, protected by men with guns, making up laws that benefit them and hurt you. Keep taking it and taking it until all of everything that you have is gone. It'll happen. Stay tuned.

Saturday, February 8, 2020

Bas Barbell Gym In the Front Bar in the Back Updated

I started thinking how cool it would be to have a gym and bar combo to go to. 

A gym with old York weights everywhere that clang together at the top of a completed squat rep and a heavy bag in the middle of the gym, and dumbells that go up to 220 plus pounds. A gym where the music comes from an old boombox in the corner. A gym where the strongest guy picks the music and it has to be Southern Rock or Metal. A gym where you can train shirtless and barefoot and nobody gives a shit and where there isn't anyone checking social media or texting. A gym where nobody can train with their hood on or a dumb ass hat on sideways. A gym where the only phone is a pay phone in the corner. A gym with no cardio machines whatsoever. A gym with no drinks to buy, just an old rusty water fountain in one corner.  A gym with no water bottles or Yeti's allowed. A  gym with posters of Randy White, Mike Webster, Lawrence Taylor, Kirk Karwoski, Hunting Labradors, Bill Kazmaier, Tom Platz (not posing, lifting),and a huge poster that reads, WILL OVER HOPE. 

And a  place where you can get done with a great training session and go through the next set of doors and see all of your buddies and have a good time. A bar where everyone feels right at home. Where the mugs are always frosty with ice dripping off of them and the bartender has an attitude and will tell you to go to hell,  but deep down inside she's a sweetheart but she does have a gun behind the mini fridge if anyone pisses her off.  One where the people police themselves. One where if you feel like punching someone in the face or getting punched in the face, everyone heads out back and the two participants put on some gloves and get it on and it's no big deal.

I have been in great gyms and I have been in great bars, but never the two combined. The time is now for this to happen! Hell, I will be the owner. So here are some of the rules for my establishment:

Some hard and fast rules for Bas Barbell's Gym and Bar

1. NO stretching allowed. In the gym or in the bar.

2. Chalk is allowed and encouraged.

3. No Velcro belts, ever. Okay, Dorian Yates is the exception.

4. Honorary president of gym-Kirk Karwoski  Honorary president of the bar- Ronnie Van Vant

5. No backpacks allowed unless they are camo and have a slot for a canteen, and maybe a red spot on it where people aren't sure if its blood or not.

6. You must Deadlift a certain minimum weight to give advice to anyone- 700 for men, 405 for women

7. No whining (in the gym or the bar).

8. No false chatter, no cheering of any sort, no high fives, no clapping, no celebrating ever, ever, ever. Here is what is am allowed:"nice job" or "hell yes" and "thats what the fuck I am talking about"

9.  Absolutely no phones allowed except for the payphone on the wall at the back of the bar. Cell phones will be smashed and set on fire out back. 

10. Music is controlled by the strongest person in the gym. One rule about the music no matter how damn strong you are: No rap.

11. No tights/yoga thingies of any kind. Cut off sweat pants encouraged. No dancing anywhere on the premises. 

12. No trash allowed in the spittoons. Just spit.

13. Use of the outdoor shower is on a first come first serve basis. Bring your own towel. The hose outside can also be used. Or the bucket in the well out back. 

14. Must know the password to come in. Password is Bill Starr

15.  United States and the Maryland flag must be prominently displayed in gym and bar.

16. No water bottles. Absolutely none. Drink from the fountain.

17. Official beer is Budweiser, official whiskey is George Dickel

18. Mason Jars are the only glasses to drink from in the bar.

19. Budweiser and a shot of Dickel are 5 dollars everyday

20. Jukebox in the corner of the bar must play only Country, Southern Rock and Metal. Marshall Tucker, Kieth Whitley, Merle Haggard, Skynyrd and Pantera (Not Cowboys from Hell), are the main artists on there. Each play costs a quarter.

21.  Fights are allowed but only in the field out back. No kicking, because Johnny B from Southwest Philly says that only girls kick in his neighborhood. So girls are allowed to kick when they fight, I guess. 

Take it out back, Elvis!
22. Dogs are allowed and encouraged in the gym and bar area. Big dogs only. No yapping dogs. No fluffy dogs. No dogs with sweaters or bells. No dogs with harnesses. 

23. Dropping of dumbells allowed. Dropping of Mason Jars not allowed

24. Hats on frontwards or backwards, never sideways.

25. Guns and knives are encouraged in the gym and bar area.

26. Six month trial for all new members, gym members must vote unanimously on each new member.

27. Certain folks are grandfathered in-Randy White and any old Baltimore Colts.

28. Any military active or retired are allowed in. If you are in the military and are not 21, you can still lift here and also drink here. If you are putting your life on the line for your country, you can have a few beers.

29. Food on the menu? Maryland Crabs, Steak, burgers, pork roll sandwiches, Old Bay fries, cream of crab soup, rockfish sandwiches.

30. Dart throwing area and knife/axe throwing area in the bar are used on a first come/first serve basis. Skeet shooting range out back is also on a first come first served basis.

31. No darts or knives or axes are allowed to be used while fighting. 

32.  Everyone must sign the waiver so you can't sue anyone if you get your ass beat. Proper etiquette upon receiving an ass beating is to shake hands, walk back into the bar and buy your opponent a drink. 

33. No man buns. Even if you can deadlift 1,000 pounds, no man buns. 

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Some Thoughts

If you are a man or a woman and you have kids, you need to get them off the damn phone and take them in the woods. Get them a hunting license and take them hunting. Take them shooting. If you have never done it yourself, shooting or hunting, then you need to learn. It's not hard and the thing about folks who hunt and shoot is that they all want to help you get started. If you show that you are serious AND you want to start your kid off right, they will bend over backwards to help you.

And why is this important? Because now we are getting further away from having our kids being independent and we are getting further away from having kids who ever get outside except on a playground during recess. And even then, the "teachers" (usually amazingly liberal and irrational and America hating and not ashamed to say so with their opinions in class) may say it's too cold to be outside. Already, some of my favorite memories are having my son in the duck or goose blind with me. And I didn't grow up a hunter. My Dad was a fisherman and that's what we did. I cherish those memories. But I had a yearning to learn to hunt when I was in college and it changed my life forever. I saw the value in it right away, the dog working, the sunrise, braving the elements, the camaraderie, the ball busting, the smell of the fire, the smell of the gunpowder, the moment when the geese land into the decoys. If that seems strange to you, all of that, then I suggest you try it. You will not be sorry.

They used to have hunter safety classes in the schools, and I think that most of that has gone away. Maybe down South they may still have it in places. Probably not in Virginia, with the Governor threatening to get the National Guard out there to take away guns from people. That asshole needs to go hunting. I bet he's never even shot a gun. And his buddy Bloomberg definitely hasn't. He needs a dip of Copenhagen and some Camo and a good old fashioned throat punch to earn his man card. He'd probably slap fight. He should fight Harvey Weinstein! Bloomberg is failing miserably as a man and a person, the coward. Don't get me started on those type of people who are guarded by guys with guns 24 hours a day, but want to take guns away from the everyman who is protecting his family and just wants to do a little deer hunting on the weekends. And people fall for this crap?

 I just see where its going, and I see less and less kids who are shooting and hunting and there are plenty of laws in place that stop law abiding citizens from owning guns, and all of these lawmakers need to get out of their mansions and get dirty and cold and brave the elements and work hard to get a deer or a bird or just shoot some skeet. Damn! Why can't people see it? The stuff that I hear about what teachers say about the USA to the kids is AMAZING to me. In fact, the one of my kid's teachers  was talking about how bad America was and how everything , yes everything, in this country is awful  and how the USA is this and that and one kid raised his hand (after this went on for a few days) and asked, "Why do you hate this country so much?" We used to say the pledge and sing "Maryland, My Maryland" every morning at school. I'm not talking about blind patriotism here, I'm talking about showing some loyalty to the place where you live and for all the men have fought and died so that we are free. Well, more free than every other country. Free. To live, man. To write if you wanna be a writer, to be a salesman if you wanna sell. And really, everyone in this country has a shot. I don't give a shit how poor you are, you will get a shot. Nobody has the same shot to reach whatever heights that you want to reach that we do. You wanna just work enough to get by? You can do that here. Wanna be rich? You can do that here, too.  Things have changed here. You have a shot at being whatever you want to be. And you want to protest something? Go right ahead. You have that right because you live here. Just do it peacefully, like 25 thousand gun owners did the other day in Virginia. No looting or killing or setting fires. Be tolerant, dammit! Oh! Just tolerant if people believe what you believe. It doesn't work both ways.

Part of what made America great is the outdoors and guns and they have both been part of the fabric of our country since its inception. And our kids are suffering because of all of this shit , pure shit that is clouding their brains, all of the stuff that keeps them inside all day long. And then they go to school and they are hearing these opinions from their teachers about what THEY believe in. Teach math and shut the hell up. Sorta like actors should do. Yeah, I'm gonna take advice from Barbara Streisand and Meryl Streep on how we all should live, God give me strength. As they pontificate from their lofty perches with walls around them and guns protecting them and the rest of them with their holier than though attitudes, feel the need to tell you about how YOU are screwing up the environment, you peasant, as they arrive in their planes and gas guzzling limousines. Seriously?

This is rambling a little, probably because I get so pissed off at this stuff, but I do have a point:

Take the step and man the hell up. Get your kids out in the woods and teach them how to shoot and take them hunting and keep the tradition alive for future generations.  Don't listen to the crap that everyone is trying to sell you. Get back to nature and common sense.  I think that if all of that goes away, we are in big trouble as a country.

All About Being a Lifer

What's a Lifer? Someone who isn't in to something for just a day, a month, a's for life. Whether its training or your family or your doesn't matter. You work at it, you build on it, you see the big picture . You don't miss workouts because it means something to you. You are like a Shakespearean actor- no matter what is going on in your life, you block it out when it's time to train. You walk into the weight room and all else disappears. Worry about it later.