Where this ends, I don’t know – but, God, let it begin with me.

Yesterday, I read a tweet from New York Senator Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC) demanding the taking of names and the collection of ‘negative comments’ on social media about Democrats, et.al., with the idea of placing dissenters in ‘reeducation camps.’ That’s deadly rhetoric.

AOC, and others, don’t fully understand that many Americans, both men and women, young and old, able-bodied and disabled, mentally sound and those of us with PTSD, etc., have a lot of experience standing in the gap against hostile forces. What few of us ever dreamed is that we’d be standing the gap against fellow Americans.

We’ve taken and oath to protected and defend the US Constitution against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. Many bureaucrats have failed to understand that we take that oath seriously and further, no one ever told un-oathed us at the official termination of service to our nation.

Jokingly, I wrote that when the COVID-19 pandemic was foisted upon the American public, some people’s survival instinct was to rush out and buy toilet paper. Others of us went to the store and bought an extra box of ammo.

We are not all the same.

Further, I posted this: Psalm 97: 1-3 (NIV)

1 The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad;
let the distant shores rejoice.
2 Clouds and thick darkness surround him;
righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.
3 Fire goes before him
and consumes his foes on every side.

This is my war song, my death song.

So where does this end? If this nation, that is to say its people, collectively and as a whole do not stand up for the US Constitution and the major wrong that has been recently done to it, we are either finished as a nation or we will be scrambling to survive in a fully realized third-world nation.

But I do know where it will begin – with me, and with others like me. So, please begin taking our names, our social media statements, for there is worse waiting for you sowers and reapers, and it lays in wait behind every blade of grass across our great nation.

Mary had jus’ left for the store. I stood on the porch, waving at her as she drove away

In my hand was the mornings first cup of coffee, already half gone. Ahead of me, on the nearest side street came a woman neighbor.

She was dressed in a ground length goose down coat, the kind that have separate chambers meant to trap one’s body heat inside the garment. On her feet were what looked to be a pair of ‘knock-off’ Uggs and atop her head was a rose-pink shower towel, wrapped tight to keep her still wet hair from falling.

About five-five, maybe around 135 pounds, in her mid to late 30’s, I thought of her as a good looking woman. We had waved at one another on occasion and said hello, but that was about it.

As she rounded the corner, she saw me and gruffed, “Damn husband forgot to take the mail before heading to work this morning.”

With that she waved her right hand, displaying the three envelopes she was carrying. Nodding, I continued to watch as she stabbed each one in the slot with a methodical madness.

As she punched each envelop through the gap, her towel became more and more loose, till it was beginning to fall off. Still I watched as she yanked it free, bowed herself back and forth twice, flicking her hair forward and backward, then wrapped her dishwater-blonde tangle back in the towel.

She turned and saw me watching, “Well, that wasn’t very sexy, now was it?”

“Oh, contraire chère femme,” I smiled, lifting my cup high in salute. “It’s always sexy to watch a  woman flick her hair about before wrapping it up like that.”

She laughed and continued walking. Then she stopped mid-stride and turned almost perfectly across from me.

Before I knew what was happening, she flipped open her coat, exposing her fully naked self. All I could do was stupidly lift my coffee cup in salute to her and grin like an idiot.

And a quick as that, she was hiking back the way she had came.

Then I lifted my cup to my lips to take another gulp of coffee and found it had grown cold. It was time to go inside and heat it up.

She stepped out of the Bonanza Club along ‘C’ Street and walked to the rough hewn post I was intending to lean on. She wasn’t much more than thirty, but looked to have come directly out of the late 1950’s.

The woman wore a pair dark blue jeans without back pockets and which hugged her hips tightly. Her blouse was a red and gray checkerboard pattern with a thin collar and short mid-arm sleeves with perfectly hemmed cuffs.

Her hair was a light brown and coiffed in the manner that reminded me of Jackie before her husband was killed in Dallas. In her hand, she held a small leather hand bag and I heard her open and close it with a click.

Then I heard the flick of a lighter and as I glance over I saw a glint of gold as she lit a cigarette and took a lengthy drag of it. A couple of seconds later, I watched as a curl of thin white smoke curl from her nose and around her face.

I knew in an instant she was smoking a non-filtered cigarette, the same as my mother had when she was still alive.

When I finally looked at her, she had dark brown eyes that matched her hair. Her lips were bright red and her alabaster skin was flawless, save to a touch too much rouge on her hit and full cheek bones.

“God,” she cheerfully exclaimed, “I needed that.”

I simply chuckled as she took another puff of her cigarette.

“Business looks like it’s going good,” I said.

“Boy is it,” she said. “I can hardly keep up.”

I heard her puff again at her cigarette.

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “Lots of places are having a hard time financially because of this COVID stuff, but I guess you already…”

My son, Kyle interrupted me, “Dad, who you talking to?”

I glanced at him as he leaned forward of me and looked at the post on which I leaned.

Then I looked back at the woman. She was no longer there.

“I guess only to myself,” I answered.

He smiled, “I think you’re losing it,” and laughed.

I laughed along with him, but as I did I thought about going inside the Bonanza to see if she were there, but in the end decided not to.

“Best to leave well enough alone,” I told myself, as Kyle and I continued walking down Virginia City’s wooden boardwalk.

It’s surprising how well Joe Biden did with senior citizens, especially those in the 125 to 200 year age range.

sometimes my anxiety
gets out of hand
because i care too much,
then because i care too much

i cannot do anything
and depression sets in
when it does i crash.

As Mary and I sat at the kitchen table this morning, I asked, “What if things don’t get any better?”

“What things?” she countered.

“We’re still struggling to recover from 2008,” I said. “What if we’re never able to get out of the hole, ever?”

“You need to quit worrying about it,” she said.

“But what if this is all there is for the rest of our lives?” I continued.

“This is probably as good as it gets,” she smiled. “And it is gonna get worse from here on out.”

“Well, that’s joyful news,” I said.

“So quiet worrying,” she returned.

The deep state is so deep that not even the information Department of Homeland Security has put out on their government website is free of the label, ‘propaganda.’ Following the links given to #PROTECT2020 RUMOR VS. REALITY you will see clearly this posting:

Reality: Election officials provide writing instruments that are approved for marking ballots to all in-person voters using hand-marked paper ballots.

Rumor: Poll workers gave specific writing instruments, such as Sharpies, only to specific voters to cause their ballots to be rejected.

The post goes on with so-call facts:

Get the Facts: Election jurisdictions allow voters to mark ballots with varying types of writing instruments, based on state law and other considerations such as tabulation system requirements. Poll workers are required to provide approved writing devices to voters.

Although felt-tip pens, like Sharpies, may bleed through ballots, some election officials have stated that ballot tabulation equipment in their jurisdictions can still read these ballots. Many jurisdictions even design their ballots with offset columns to prevent any potential bleed through from impacting the ability to easily scan both sides of ballots.

If a ballot has issues that impact its ability to be scanned, it can be hand counted or duplicated, or adjudicated by election officials, who use defined procedures such as chain of custody to ensure protect ballot secrecy and integrity. Many states additionally have “voter intent” laws that allow for ballots to be counted even when issues such as bleed-throughs or stray marks are present, as long as the voter’s intent can still be determined.

However one Pennsylvania woman offers up a different story than what DHS claims is untrue.

Nece Hawke posted to her Facebook page, “I am so upset. This year is the very first time in my life I have voted. The church I went to vote at only had Sharpie permanent markers to fill in our votes.”

She goes on to explain, “The machine took my paper and it was gone. It did not say accepted or invalid. My paper was gone.”

She later learned the truth about using a Sharpie when voting.

“Found out that you should never use permanent markers to fill in the circles for voting. Your vote will be invalid,” she said.

“I am so sad and angry over this,” Hawke added. “I put in a complaint on the state of Pennsylvania government web page about this issue, plus contacted President Trump though his web page at the White House.”

So far, no one from the State of Pennsylvania or the Trump administration has reach back to Hawke.

Meanwhile, Twitter and Facebook continue to disrupt Trumps feed by adding warning that the information is not factual, including known activities of poll workers in Pennsylvania.

“We have claimed, for Electoral Vote purposes, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania (which won’t allow legal observers) the State of Georgia, and the State of North Carolina, each one of which has a BIG Trump lead,” tweeted Trump on Nov. 4 at 1:58 pm. “Additionally, we hereby claim the State of Michigan if, in fact, there was a large number of secretly dumped ballots as has been widely reported!”

Poop jokes aren’t my favorite — but they are number two.

Troopers from the Nevada Highway Patrol responded to a head-on collision on US-50 near Douglas County mile marker 3, Tuesday evening, Nov. 3 at about 6:25 pm. At the scene they found a black 2011 Dodge Ram pickup, that had been traveling eastbound on US-50 and approaching a right curve in the roadway, while a gray 2003 Honda Element was approaching the same curve westbound.

As the truck entered the curve, the driver crossed over the double yellow center line and into the oncoming travel lane, hitting the Element. The driver of the Element, Peter Dykeman, 34, of South Lake was declared deceased at the scene.

The driver of the truck has yet to be identified by authorities. The crash is being investigated by the Nevada Highway Patrol Northern Command West Multi-Disciplinary Investigation and Reconstruction Team (M.I.R.T.)