Merriam Webster
Metrosexual:: a usually urban heterosexual male given to enhancing his personal appearance by fastidious grooming, beauty treatments, and fashionable clothes

We are all familiar with the phrase, “Metrosexual” and we all know at least a few who are willing to assume this role of a man who takes on feminine characteristics to fulfill a new role in our society, just how far he is willing to go in the assumption of this semi-feminine identity while maintaining a dainty masculine image varies, but we can be sure the image is being promoted by our faithful media. No, I am not speaking of the men who easily fulfill the Gary Cooper role model of FA men; I am talking about the effeminate “Straight” men who are pleased to have you question their sexual identity and the women who create these confused weaklings. The women, who perpetuate the myth that men are evil and dirty, then smother their boys with motherly attention, not for the sake of the boys, but to cater to their own feminine insecurities and neurotic weaknesses.

Some are quick to call our president a Metrosexual, but, I’d rather focus on the economy and jobs, than worry over his dubious manhood, it is the younger male demographic that I am speaking of and their mothers.

We’ve all heard and seen these boys in the public whining like little girls to their parents, instead of watching little girls.

This late breast feeding is labeled attached parenting. The woman in the photo carries it to more of an extreme by sleeping with her son. She says that hopefully this will be his last year. Now we are wondering who is in charge of this bizarre situation.

There is no scientific proof, but if we compile the anecdotal experiences of objective people who have begun to question this new gender bending concept in our society, the results will be persuasive. It is primarily a Liberal trait, but there are exceptions, Like the Whore Hopping serial rapist, President Clinton and the waitress sandwich boys Chris Dodd and Teddy Kennedy. It’s true, enjoying the assets of a tasty waitress in a menage a trois can bring up images of indirect latent homosexuality at the very least. However, Dodd and Kennedy were more old school in their perversions; they would never pretend to have a feminine side and would never pretend to have homosexual desires, even while they are exhibiting those same tendencies during their brotherly love sessions. The Metrosexual is more than willing to expose his feminine nature to the world and maybe even partake of the forbidden fruit.

What is wrong with this, you might ask, nothing if you are gay, but if you were designed to be a straight man by the genetics in your DNA and you have a “gay side” because of perverted parenting, it is a tragedy. A tragedy not only to the individual, but to our culture as well.

Many of you who think back will remember boys who were raised by overly possessive and protective mothers; the boys were effeminate in their actions. Usually the mothers were happy not to be raising those typical male hellions. It was if they wanted to change the world by raising their sons as daughters. Thus those boys eventually became angry teenagers or they were always willing to be looked after and cared for by the omnipotent mother. In time, mother is frail or impossibly possessive and the boy has the option of marrying another mother or finding a man friend for companionship and comfort. The state becomes a surrogate parent and we have created a loyal progressive.

This article in no way is meant to condemn gays or the gay lifestyle. We are born the way we were born and there is precious little you can do about it. I wanted to be 6 foot five, but I ended up three inches too short, that’s the way it is and I can’t do anything about it. However, raising boys in an overly protective atmosphere with a feminine dominance is wrong.

Notice the title on Time: Are You Mom Enough? They are encouraging women to raise their sons as dominated weaklings, rather letting them assume the roles of coarse hairy legged men of history. The new man is to be a Metrosexual, secure in his identity as a submissive wimp, Americans meet your Metrosexual his name is Liberal and the Super Mom is his creator, for few things are more destructive to the psyche of a man than an overly possessive mother.

While our president crusades with an unrealistic plan to tax the rich to pay for his profligate spending and bring the country back to what now seems like a Capitalist pipe dream, the elusive pre-Obama economy. Obama Elites, who are almost always rich, but don’t seem to pay taxes or worry about them, agree with the old Marxist parable, “tax the rich to spread the wealth around,” at least, as long as no one dips into their private accounts. If Obama stays in power, their money is safe, that’s the way his system works. While the public frets over wether Obama is a Statist or a Marxist, he keeps trying to make the old failed Marxist principles work. Apparently, the Marxists of history didn’t understand how to run a Statist economy or so Obama must reason, to keep from being collectively diagnosed as a psychotic, by doing the same experiment repeatedly and expecting a different result.

Taxing the rich and the productive people of society, in order to give the money to non-productive members of society, is like beating your head against a wall to rid yourself of a headache. It may seem like a good idea to the naive and stupid, but eventually, your situation becomes worse or desperate. The wall maintains its integrity, but your head and your ability to reason is in an indirect proportion to the time spent beating your brains to a pulp.

Marx argued that the Socialists of the 19th Century continued to fail because they neglected to address the economic issues, and he was regarded as a brilliant thinker, his formula for the evolution of Socialism into Communism incorporated the concept of Wealth Redistribution. Obama incorporated Wealth Redistribution as a major portion of his election platform in 2008 and it has been an underlying principle of his economic policies. In the beginning, Marx was content to describe his theories in newspapers, but in 1848 he published, “The Communist Manifesto”; in 1867, he wrote the more notable book, “Das Kapital”. The brilliance of Marx has been the silent epitaph for over a hundred million, but Obama is not one to let the failures and the disasters of every experiment in Marxism and Statism deter his idealism.

The major problem with Marxism, a problem described by Orwell in his book, “1984″ and later illustrated so poignantly by Obama during what may charitably become known as America’s Malignant Presidency, is the problem of reallocation of wealth or the Redistribution of Wealth, since the creation of wealth in Marxism or Statism is extremely laborious and difficult.

Marx believed that the problem with the socialism of his day was that it failed to deal in a realistic manner with economic issues. He proposed that his new (Communist) economic system, which called for redistribution of wealth, was more equitable. But in time and with application, it became clear that this system fails as well; in part, because it requires people to be altruistic and to live like ants or for the community rather than to advance the concept of self. Unfortunately, working for the benefit of others over self is not in harmony with human nature. Marx advanced a secular solution to a spiritual problem. But by its very nature, a spiritual problem can be solved only on a spiritual level.

Wait, wait, Progressive Marxist sympathizers may be tempted to work themselves into a coronary, but let’s consider some basic facts. Increasing taxes will always dry up a percentage of an economy, because a finite amount of money evacuates the economy and the economy becomes less dynamic. If at a certain moment in time, 45% of the money of an economy is taxed, the economy is weakened by 45%. Nancy Pelosi has argued that the money isn’t lost because it is fed back through the economy in the form of welfare and food stamp programs. But this requires a caveat. Before the money was taxed out of the economy, wealth was being created, goods and services were provided, and the economy was healthy and dynamic. But when money is taken from the economy and given to non-productive people to spend, no wealth is being created. The economy becomes anemic with false values and a loss of 45% of the economy’s capacity for the creation of wealth.

In an imaginary economy of Dystopia, the United Socialist States has $20 dollars, but a wealthy man has the $20 dollars and has decided to sit on the entire amount, except for his personal living expenses, say $2 a year. The rest of the people of Dystopia will be falling over one another to get a few cents of that two dollars to be able to feed their families and repair the roof over their heads and be glad to get a portion of that small pittance of the national economy of Dystopia. The money is spent in desperation by each citizen of Dystopia, who feels lucky to earn some of the limited money supply. They feed their families and provide whatever comforts they can afford with their share of the limited money supply as it is spent solely on the basics required for subsistence.

These few pennies of wealth are spent over and over throughout the economy. This economy is said to possess a limited money supply. However, if the wealthy person see the opportunity to “Create wealth” by investing a portion of his capital in a business or the manufacture of a product, the capacity of the money supply of Dystopia will begin to increase exponentially.

The investment that our imaginary capitalist has seen is in the form of ceramic tiles for the roofs of the homes of Dystopia’s citizens. It will take $14 of wealth to manufacture the roofing tiles, but since there is demand for this inexpensive product that can be produced and sold to turn a profit, the enterprise seems promising. Our theoretical capitalist thinks there is an opportunity to increase his fortune and create wealth within the community. The wealth created is not limited to the bank account of the capitalist; the actual wealth is recorded in the higher standard of living provided by the jobs and the spinoff industries that spring up to service the roofing industries.

It is the $14 dollars that invigorated the economy; once people had income beyond substance levels, they had the option of being a Hedonist and spending money on indulgences, sitting on money like the capitalist did before he saw opportunity, or trying to create wealth by investing in a business or creating another product. A group of human beings will provide examples of all three, but more importantly, the economy is invigorated as the $14 turns over almost every business day. People are seeing their standard of living improve weekly and the economy is not only healthy, it is strong. People have faith in the future and they are not afraid to take economic risks.

Obama has created the antithesis of a healthy economy. The money supply is dwindling. People who can invest have little confidence in the future and the money supply is turning over in a manner much closer to early Dystopia when the rich man sat on his assets rather than risk his money in a “Down” economy.

But Obama has the answer, he will tax the rich and spread the wealth around; unfortunately, the wealthy producers see the economic climate and close up their wealth and innovative creativity like a turtle hiding in his shell.

The Paternal Instinct Of A Father

Apparently, he is worried about his daughters and the world they will live in as adults. I am sure he will want them to be Elites in the Marxist Utopian dreams he has envisioned, it is so much better than that dreadful poverty the rest of us will be trapped in, but one thing for sure, he will want them to be respected by men and the public. The thought of public disrespect directed towards them or women in general, is too horrible to think about. That is why he has called Ms Fluke, the woman who attends an expensive Jesuit law school, but can’t afford or can’t date someone with enough sense to afford contraception.

But life has some harsh realities. Ms Fluke the political activist, might think back to the Madam of the local whore house telling the hormone enraged teenage boy, “If you want to play, Sweetie, you must pay.” She could have told him to take a cold shower or to put a rubber band around it, but she offered sage advice to a young boy on the threshold of manhood, very useful advice. Perhaps the same advice President Obama should be giving his daughters if he wasn’t a Marxist; for it would be much more likely to help them and prepare them for the future, than the Marxist refrain, the government provides so don’t sweat it.

Unfortunately, Progressive Marxists are quick to disrespect women, a habit that will come back to haunt them in a few months; since Obama, and other self-righteous Progressive Marxists find it perfectly acceptable to have a comedienne stand up and talk about Palin showing up at the Republican convention in this manner, “holding a baby that just came out of her f*cking disgusting c*nt, her f*cking retard-making c*nt.” Now some of us might take exception to the language; especially, since Obama seems to think that the mentally handicapped are fair game for humor. I suppose that is part of the Leftist perversions that are generally considered acceptable among the loyal; in essence, being mean spirited to those who can’t fend for themselves. One of the most notable Socialists, Adolf Hitler had a special mean interest in these “Retards” as well; except, he took meanness toward “Retards” one step farther.

There are others who might take offense at the vulgar language this Leftist comedienne used to degrade all women, since to use the expressions in referring to a political opponent, with official impunity, makes it acceptable for all Progressive Marxists to degrade women: but on the flip side, it also becomes acceptable to refer to Michelle and her daughters using the same language; after all, didn’t Obama give it his tacit approval by not condemning this sewer language from two of his loyal Hollywood supporters, Louis C.K. the nimble mind who came up with the quote in the previous paragraph and Bill Maher, who called Palin a f*cking c*nt and a tw*t. As a standing rule, I never use such foul language, nor do I allow it to be used in my company. If I hate someone that much, we can step into the ring. But these gutter rats find it cute and a way to build a fan base, and our president doesn’t mind in the least; especially, since Maher gave him a million dollars. However, there are two major problems, that become patently obvious as a result of this classless public discourse: first is the complete lack of class among the Progressive Marxists who listen to these degenerates, second is the classless president who condones this vile tasteless behavior, so reminiscent of the squalor and degeneracy of the lowest constituencies he represents. He has now brought the language of the ghetto to the highest levels of political discourse. Oh, but why take offense, he is the one who has approved this new level of discourse by not condemning the language of his loyal supporters.

In the past, I would have stood up for the president and his family, not because I like them, but because I once had respect for the office; however, if someone wants to refer to Michelle and her reproductive parts being in some foul condition, have at it. You won’t get a fist up side your head from me. No sir, our president likes and approves of that kind of gutter talk, he is obviously capable of dealing with it, so do your worst; all you will get from me is a smile. President Obama has set the standard and the standard is in the sewers.

How lucky we are, we who mourn the erosion of freedom and bemoan the implementation of Statism; for now, we at least have the consolation and comforting feelings that come with knowing there is a high degree of intellect directing our international diplomacy, designated as “Smart Diplomacy”. The phrase our former First Lady uses to describe her self-professed skills in diplomacy; skills that were apparently acquired in managing the “Bimbo Eruptions,” her husband precipitated during their marriage and sometimes bizarre journey to the White House. Skills that became patently obvious with the Obama Administration’s opening of our embassy in Damascus and Ms Clinton describing Assad, the butcher of Syria, as a reformer. Yes, if the diplomacy of the White House and the State Department were any smarter, the dictators of the world would be cowering in fear when Hillary flexes her brain and farts intellect by the bucket.

Unfortunately, reality has gripped the world; various blood stained “Reformers,” miscreants, tyrants, and benevolent dictators know the US is a war weary country and Hussein Obama is in an election year. The military may be beginning to resent being used as pawns, according to some returning vets, while political leaders make strategic military and political decisions based on popularity polls. Our citizens watch in disbelief as our president goes to the United Nations for a dubious permission slip to engage Libya in a “Lead From The Rear,” war to depose a dictator who by all outward appearances was beginning to reform, but threatened to deal harshly with those in revolt. If only he would have claimed to have a nuclear warhead with inter-continental capabilities, he would have been treated with respect by Obama and others and perhaps still be alive and in power, much like the monster of North Korea who lived out a natural, but surreal comic book existence with Obama’s tacit blessing.

Thus a limited military action, supposedly utilizing air power with surgical precision, our Fearless Slayer of Defenseless Monsters promised a speedy victory over tyranny; unfortunately, the war that wasn’t a war and the precision execution of a tyrant turned into a five month orgy of flexing our military technology and our economic might as we rained down an array of our most sophisticated weapons in an attempt to kill one man. Sadly our proposed orgy of singular execution was but an impotent display of presidential miscalculation and “Smart Diplomacy;” for in the end, a sadistic mob tore the dictator apart, but other dictators were taught to fear the consequences of falling out of favor with America’s own skinny little tyrant.

While Hussein Obama strutted on the world stage and posed in the dual role of Superman and International Bully, our enemies began to see the weaknesses and possibilities or perhaps the impotency of a high tech super power bully engaging a primitive enemy and culture while losing the support of his people. For the absolute absurdity of the situation was never more apparent, than the theater of sublime hypocrisy: a Community Organizer imposing a “No Fly Zone” and using it as an excuse for the bombing of tanks, trucks, and infantry with American air power. With logic that eluded all but the most dedicated sycophants, Hussein Obama continued to rain holy hell on Libya, until a mob tore Qadaffi to pieces. America’s greatness and her beacon of freedom fell several notches during that afternoon of mayhem, but the power of “Smartness” or perhaps dumbness was definitely out in the open, for the world to judge.

Now, the world watches as another dictator slaughters his people who dare to resist tyranny and thumbs his nose at Obama and Hillary with her bucket of smartness. The citizens of the world look up at the throne of Obama, not with a hopeful look, but with a smirk, for they know President Hussein Obama on his throne is really nothing more than a childish Community Organizer on a toilet.

The people that Obama leads, the entitled, self-serving self-designated intellectual snobs, and the ultra-rich Elites, are willing to ignore his military adventurism; except, for those faithful followers in the defense industry. No, it is a delicate balance of a coalition of factions, for the Socialist Pacifists can only stomach a certain amount of military adventurism; until, one day in the future, they look upon Hussein Obama with the familiar fish eyed stare of outage and indignation, formerly reserved for former war-time presidents; yes, even “Smart Diplomacy” can fail, and a benevolent leader may need to whack those who oppose him with a big stick, straight from the Qadaffi and Assad school of diplomacy or tyranny, but on a much grander scale: so a word of caution to you disillusioned pacifists, don’t be too obvious with your revulsion of this man and his barbarism, tyrants with power are tyrants indeed. To grow a perfect Socialist Garden, you must chop up the weeds with a hoe; don’t let Obama see you as a weed that is polluting his garden.

The trick is to be on the correct side of public opinion. Being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for being America’s first Marxist President is an example of being on the right side of public opinion or perhaps the Left side of public opinion. Being blatant and openly involved with Crony Capitalism is pushing the envelope of public opinion, even for the Socialist with tunnel vision, but they are a forgiving group and able to overlook the most glaring contradictions in their anointed one, their “Gift from God,” according to Nancy Pelosi.

We have learned not to take threats from the self-styled tyrant, Hussein Obama lightly, he boasted of being able to destroy the coal industry and imposing skyrocketing energy prices; by rejecting the Keystone Pipeline and any pretense of a self-sufficient energy policy, he has single-handedly insured America and the world, that we will be paying crippling energy prices for decades. There is a slight problem with manipulating energy prices ever higher: the cost of living and the cost of food quickly follows energy’s lead, for everything is produced by energy and is transported by energy. Thus America’s buying power is reduced and the downward spiral of an economy begins its descent toward an inevitable collapse.

Obama uses his highly overrated intellect, much like a child to cast blame for his personal failures on others:

“Everybody who is out there back in 2009, if you look back what their estimates were in terms of how many jobs had been lost, how bad the economy had contracted when I took office, everybody underestimated it. People thought that the economy contracted 3%. It turns it retracted close to 9%. We lost 8 million jobs just in a year’s span, about half a year before I took office and half a year after I took office,” Obama said.

“So, the die had been cast, but a lot of us didn’t understand at that point how bad it was going to get. That increases the deficit because less tax revenues come in, and it means that more people are getting unemployment insurance, we’re helping states more so they don’t teachers, etc. The key though is we’re setting ourselves on a path where we can get our debt under control.”

Yes, for those of us “out there”, back in 2009, who are wondering how such an intelligent man can communicate in such a disjointed and non-sensical manner or more importantly, how or why he occupies the most powerful position in the world. We can’t help but wonder, will America’s entitled classes awaken to the realization, that a deflated economy and runaway inflation spell economic doom to even those who are above the economic vagaries of the once Free Market, that even those under a supposedly benevolent statism and a benevolent tyrant like Hussein Obama will eventually run out of credit or other people’s money and be forced to turn off the welfare pipeline. But in classic Doublespeak, straight from Orwell’s 1984, Obama feeds his entitled people from the trough of Socialist nonsense, during a press conference, he attributes the growing price of oil, not to world tension, his energy policies, and a weakening dollar, but to a strengthening economy that increases the demand for oil:

“And when gas prices are on the rise again because as the economy strengthens, global demand for oil increases. And if we start seeing significant increases in gas prices, losing that $40 could not come at a worse time…”

The world and America can only withstand so much “Smart Diplomacy.”

Whether you hunt lions, Grizzlies, or men, there is a moment that defines the hunt; a mere split second can mean the difference between success or cataclysmic failure.

I was recently lion hunting in Colorado, it was a beautiful day in the mountains: the sun was bright, there was a few inches of fresh lightly packed snow, and the temperatures were in the twenties; of course, the temperature dropped with increases in elevation.

The snow was perfect for reading sign and there were plenty of Mountain Lions on the mountain, but the fresh tracks were from cats that were too small; still, it was a pleasure to see that the main predator of Colorado was thriving and that there would be excellent hunting in the future. The big cats were hanging out somewhere else, and more specifically the mature males with the brown patch on their rump were probably checking out the real cougars for liaisons of a more delicate nature; for it would soon be the season for lion humpy-rumpy if memory serves correctly. I think back to the time, many years ago, when an amorous cougar thought I looked pretty sexy in the moonlight, with a big boar beaver strapped to my back and walking on thin rotten ice over a wild river in flood; but that’s the kind of hunting story my fellow hunters like to hear at night around the fire after a couple shots of rye.

We were hunting in perfect conditions, and we were seeing many tracks, but none were worthy of a spirited chase by the hounds. Only the large tom lion is considered fair game, and they were either hiding or having a convention somewhere else in the mountains; this is why they call it hunting, and it is the mark of an amateur to become frustrated and not enjoy the beauty of the day and the mountains.

During the same period in Idaho, a similar scene was taking place, but on this trip the hounds man had a hunter who wanted to kill a cat with a bow. The bow is a primitive weapon and a legitimate weapon; it has been used effectively by hunters for several thousand years. I have nothing against bow hunting; I have enjoyed bow hunting and may yet hunt, once again, with a bow in the future, but hunting with a bow requires familiarity and practice to be competent. Primitive man depended on the bow to avoid starvation. We are no longer faced with such a demanding lifestyle, but hunters have a responsibility to provide a clean death and not to endanger himself or others with unwarranted danger because of his unfamiliarity with the bow.

On this particular hunt, as related to me by a rancher friend from Idaho, who has a friend with a pack of hounds, who makes a business of guiding lion hunters. His hunter waited until the hounds had a large lion treed before stringing his bow and notching an arrow to take aim. Normally, a cat will stay in the tree and not challenge a pack of five hounds, but depending on predictable behavior from wild animals is like trying to predict human behavior.

This cat jumped into the pack of hounds, while our hunter was still preparing his bow for the climax of the hunt, the cat killed four of the five hounds in the length of time an arrow would have needed to reach the cat. The huntsman’s best hound quit the melee and opted for the old parable of discretion being the better part of valor, before having his carotid ripped open. Then the cat quit the scene of carnage, and our hunter was still struggling to string his bow.

When people have asked me about the dangers of Grizzly hunting, I tell them it’s not as dangerous as you might think, but you just need to realize, some days you kill the bear and on other days, the bear kills you.

It would be funny, except it is closer to the truth than you may realize. We Conservatives are now engaged in a presidential primary; a primary that is as interesting and as dangerous as lion or bear hunting. We have the media and our Republican Elites trying to select our candidate without us and if we take too long to string our bows and notch our arrows or opinions, they may select our candidate without our input and we will have essentially been killed, for all practical purposes.

Mitt Romney will beat Barack Obama and he will beat Obama for the same reasons some conservatives don’t like him. I am well aware that some of my fellow authors here find Romney less than ideal but I do believe the future of this country depends on Barack Obama being defeated in November and a Romney-Santorum ticket is just what is needed.

Obama has already taken a stab at Romney for his financial history but it is not going to gain traction and Jack Lew is the reason.

Barack Obama named Jack Lew to replace Bill Daley as chief of staff. Jack Lew was one of the investment bankers who bet that worthless CDO’s, sold to investors as financially solid vehicles, would fail. This was all done without disclosure, of course.

Lew got a $1 million dollar taxpayer funded bonus in 2009.

Obviously Barack Obama highly regards such a person as this.

And here’s a beauty of a quote from Lew:

“[I don't] personally know the extent to which deregulation drove it, but I don’t believe that deregulation was the proximate cause.”

Barack Obama’s chief of staff does NOT believe deregulation caused the financial meltdown. Save that one for discussion with liberals about deregulation. Barack Obama cannot harp on Romney’s past without inviting scrutiny of his own choices.

A Southern evangelical declared that Romney was “not Mormon enough” for social conservatives.

A leading Southern Baptist figure predicted Friday that Christian conservative leaders won’t rally around an alternative to Mitt Romney until after next week’s South Carolina primary, while warning that the former Massachusetts governor is “not Mormon enough” for most socially conservative voters.

Dr. Richard Land, president of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, said during a newsmaker interview on C-SPAN that evangelical leaders hope that the Palmetto State primary Jan. 21 will whittle down the GOP presidential field and make it clear whether they should rally around Romney rivals Rick Santorum, Newt Gingrich or Rick Perry before Florida’s primary later this month.

But this reminds of George Stephanopoulos’ colossally stupid moderation of the Republican debate. The country is mired in economic doldrums, foreign tensions run high and what does Stephanopoulos ask? He presses Romney about contraceptives.

Social conservatism is not going to solve the big issues facing this country and social conservatism is not enough to win this election.

Mitt Romney is going to become the Republican Presidential nominee and he will beat Barack Obama in the election and in no small part it will be due to Barack Obama:

“It’s in many ways like the ’08 campaign when Barack Obama ran as a candidate to be an alternative to George W. Bush. That was true in his announcement speech in Springfield [in February 2007].

“This was true when Ronald Reagan ran [against Jimmy Carter in 1980]. We went back and looked back at his [Obama’s] speech. He closed it out offering an alternative to George W. Bush, much to John McCain’s frustration.

In 2012, the economy would be the “one big, dominant issue” as in 2008. “This race is about the economy and a referendum on Barack Obama.”

In terms of New Hampshire this week, however, the Romney campaign looked long and hard at what Obama did here in 2008 when he arrived in the state from Iowa with momentum from his win there and a poll lead in the Granite State. It all evaporated on voting day when Hillary Clinton won.

“We studied what Obama did wrong,” said Stevens. “A lot of people thought that Obama was going to win big. I would have bet you anything Obama was going to win big. So we went and said, ‘OK, what did Obama do wrong?’

“The best thing we could figure out was that he didn’t take questions, that he isolated himself in the bubble. I can remember being in Manchester on a Sunday. He had an event in mid-afternoon and there were people lined up. It was very moving actually. It must have been what it was like with Bobby Kennedy or something. And then he [Obama] lost.

“So we said, ‘OK we’re not going to do that. We’re going to do the exact opposite. We’re going to keep taking questions from voters’. If they sense that you’re on a glide path, that you’re not taking questions I think that’s really bad.”

Another reason that Romney will win comes from democrat flack Donna Brazile:

BRAZILE: Mitt Romney won tonight because no one touched him — and for Democrats, you know what? It was good news for us.

KARL: Why is that?

BRAZILE: Because we believe that the weakest candidate is the candidate that the Republicans are not attackin’, and that’s Mitt Romney.

KARL: Oh, come on.

Brazile is politicking. She is the canard. She knows that Romney has the best chance to beat Obama and so do most Republicans.

While the Republican presidential hopefuls continue to fight it out on the campaign trail, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney is the only GOP contender that most voters view as having a chance against President Obama.

Fifty-three percent (53%) of Likely U.S. Voters think Romney is at least somewhat likely to beat the president in November.

Lawrence O’Donnell takes a more sober analysis:

“Romney is the one they don’t want. They know they can beat anybody else. Romney, they think they can beat, but it’s a harder road.”

Probably the best choice for a VP would be someone who appeals to the social conservatives and Rick Santorum fits that need rather nicely. Such a choice would shore up Romney’s right while Romney is free to court the middle upon whom this election depends.

Santorum has taken a far more gentle approach to Romney than have his rivals. Santorum may be thinking the same thing I am thinking. Santorum’s painting Romney as “not conservative enough” could be exactly what both Romney and Santorum need.

No candidate is perfect. None of us ever gets everything we want. But this election is much more than about getting the ideal candidate. It is first and foremost about getting Barack Obama out of office and this combination can achieve that.

The Seville family survived the Moors during the invasion of Spain in the early 8th Century; actually, their sword making techniques, during the occupation, made the Seville family wealthy. The Moors had a deep respect for the technology involved in manufacturing a fine honed blade, thus they allowed the Seville family to prosper; eventually, Moors married into the family and the family became one of the wealthiest families in Spain.

Over a thousand years later, the family members were titled and wealthy aristocrats; they were a handsome family, noted for dark skin tones as well as blue and green eyes. They were considered to be capable and intelligent; unfortunately, because of the early practice of marrying cousins to keep the family estate intact and perhaps, because of incestuous relationships over time, there was a strain of madness that permeated the Seville bloodline. However, Toledo made the best steel swords in the world and the Seville family was considered to be the best sword and knife makers in Toledo.

A good sword had strength, flex, and the ability to hold a razor’s edge. The Seville swords and sabers were easily recognized by men of arms, whether they were duelists or the arms buyers for the armies of Europe. Inferior swords often broke in combat and if they couldn’t hold an edge they were useless and cost lives. The secret was in the purity of the iron, the carbon and the tempering process. In an era of coal fired forges, there were no thermometers; however, temperatures were critical, if the temperatures were too high when the steel was quenched, the iron would be too brittle and the steel would break like glass. If the steel was too cold, the blade wouldn’t hold an edge and the sword would bend. The control of the temperature, the application of carbon, and the quench or cooling phase were all important factors needed to make a good sword.

Young Ignacio was the son of a younger brother of the Don who headed up the family. He would never inherit the wealth of the family. His most obvious options were the military or the church. Young men like Ignacio were supposed to be men of leisure, horse riding, fencing, and seducing astronomical numbers of maidens were considered worthy pursuits for wealthy dilettantes, but Ignacio was different. He learned the steel business from the smelting of iron to the sharpening and polishing of the finished blade.

His family was incensed when young Ignacio came from working in the mills and forges with coal dust and dirt covering his body and clothes. His male cousins laughed at him and the females rolled their eyes with smirking grins. Despite his family’s disapproval, Ignacio was being recognized as an important member of the sword making enterprise.

If someone was sick or if someone died, Ignacio stepped forward and trained a new worker. He still rode horses and took fencing lessons; except, he had a strength of both body and mind that his brothers and cousins secretly envied.

There was one cousin that envied Ignacio’s skills and hated him for his work ethic and his knowledge; Carlos was in line to inherit the sword making factory. His life was spent in gluttony, wine drinking and being a bully to anyone beneath his social station, which was almost everyone. He was waiting for his invalided father to die so that he could inherit all the money to continue his life of unfettered debauchery, until the family estate went bankrupt or he died of excess.

Such young men resent those who make them look useless. Thus, Carlo’s hatred for Ignacio seethed; he waited patiently for the chance to rid himself of this cousin who served only to remind him of his wasted and irresponsible life.

Saturday evening belonged to Ignacio and he would go to a small cafe on the plaza to get a glimpse of the love of his life. Louisa would be there with her older brothers. Her impossibly blue eyes that flashed and sparkled like the forges at work and her long flowing black hair that curled in waves down to her lower back were her most striking features. At 5 foot 8, she towered over most of the men in the village. Yet she was the romantic daydream of every male with a libido in the village.

Ignacio was allowed to join Louisa and her two brothers to stroll on the promenade where flirting and flashing eyes were a formal tradition in selection of possible matrimonial partners. Young girls paraded their charms and chastity while chaperoned by older male relatives who glared at men who showed an interest. To walk with a young girl, a suitor must ask the chaperone for permission to speak to the maiden. He then had to ask to walk alongside of her. This was his chance to engage in conversation and make a favorable impression. Many potential suitors asked, but few were accepted; it was fashionable to be in demand, but not to seem too approachable.

If a man was deemed suitable, he was asked to Sunday dinner. After several dinners, he was expected to propose or he might be challenged to a duel by a brother or cousin of the maiden. Honor and respect were expected and disputes were often settled with blood and death. Courtship was a serious matter to the caballeros of this class and to those who ascribed to the old traditions.

Young single women of lower socio-economic classes and some who weren’t so young or single used the promenade as a chance to set up liaisons of passion. A glance, an eye movement, or a toss of the head were all part of a ritual that helped unite lovers later on that evening. The danger from male relatives and husbands was intimidating in a village where every man owned a sword and was trained in its use. But in the village of Paloma near Toledo, it was accepted that its people were a lusty bunch, even by Latin standards.

Ignacio could have met with hundreds of peasant girls or frustrated married women for a few minutes of lust, but he had already been invited to Louisa’s family dinner and he was under close scrutiny as a possible mate for Louisa, it was imperative not to be caught up in some scandal. It was easy to be caught, for although it was considered the actions of a degenerate for a man to speak of his sexual conquests, it was a great topic of conversation for women to speak of their sexual conquests, listing all the important details of each encounter to any female who would listen. Thus men sometimes died after a glowing review was told and retold, until an enraged male relative demanded satisfaction and one of the two men was either seriously wounded or killed. It was a part of their culture, flawed as it may have been, it kept a measure of honor and cohesion within the group.

On this fateful night, after walking with Louisa and her brothers for a respectable twenty minutes, one of the brothers said it was time to say goodnight. Ignacio stood about 18 inches away, a distance that made her relatives nervous and said good night to Louisa and telling her he hoped to see her soon. He bowed his head and his torso slightly. When he stood up, one of the brothers told him they would be serving dinner tomorrow at 3 o’clock and that he should come at 2 o’clock.

Ignacio thanked the relative and said he would be at their hacienda at 2 o’clock.

The trio walked toward their home and Ignacio was ecstatic. This was his second invitation; if he were invited two more times, he was expected to propose. He decided to have a glass of wine to calm his nerves while he was oblivious to the admiring glances of many females.

After drinking the wine without tasting it, he mounted his horse and decided to ride by Louisa’s family estate on the way home. He had to feel close to her, just one more time this evening. He was in a dream world and the beautiful Spanish maiden never left his thoughts.

A short distance out of town, Ignacio saw two men in the road and one of them was in agony. He jumped off his horse and held onto the reins as he knelt to offer assistance. It was Louisa’s brothers, they had been stabbed multiple times and were bleeding profusely. The one who asked him to dinner said they were dying and not to worry over them, but Louisa had been kidnapped by Carlos Seville and several brigands. He pointed to the wagon tracks of a carriage and told him to save Louisa.

Ignacio said, “May God hold you in his arms tonight.” The dying man said, “Vaya con Diaz” (“Go with God) and laid back to die. Ignacio jumped on his horse and followed the tracks to a room in the back of a cantina. The carriage was parked beneath a tree and several evil looking men were lounging around the carriage. Without forethought he walked up to the men as they slowly stood and put their hands on swords and knives. He drew his sword and slashed the first man through the right collar bone and down through the chest cavity. The sword finished its diagonal arc through the left abdomen of the man and Ignacio brought his sword up at lightening speed and thrust it through the breast bone and the heart of the next man, killing him instantly. He lost valuable seconds while trying to dislodge his sword from the bone. One of the cowards ran into the night, but the other one drew his sword and thrust at Ignacio just as his sword broke free. The thrust of the sword was stopped by the ribs of Ignacio, the man lacked the strength to break the ribs and force his sword into the chest cavity to deliver a killing thrust. The blade glanced off the ribs leaving only a jagged cut and chipped ribs. Ignacio raised his sword and brought the razor sharp edge across with speed and power. The blade entered the side of the man’s neck and exited the other side without slowing down. He dropped his sword and grabbed his neck with both hands in a futile effort to stop the bleeding. Ignacio left him to bleed out on his knees and ran into the small room. His cousin was on the naked Louisa, she was bitten and bruised as if the hunting hounds had nearly torn her to pieces, her face was unrecognizable, her eyes were bruised and swollen shut, her nose was broken, and her lips protruded many times beyond their normal shape.

He hesitated to stare in horror at the scene of debauchery in front of him. Carlos reached for his sword and the two engaged in mortal combat next to the violated girl. As often happened, when two expert swordsmen meet in combat, they thrust at the same instant and each sword met flesh. Carlos’ sword cleaved the left cheekbone and below the eye of Ignacio, blinding him with pain and blood. The blade of Ignacio pierced the belly of Carlos and would have been a killing wound except for the roll of belly fat around his middle and the intense pain of Ignacio’s wound causing him not to complete his thrust. If Carlos would have been a stronger man, he could have finished off Ignacio, but the sight of his own blood scared him and he ran to his carriage, barely noticing the bodies of his brigands, as he left to acquire medical assistance at home.

Ignacio overcame his pain and covered his love with her torn clothes. With difficulty from the pain of his two wounds he mounted his horse while holding his beloved’s broken and bleeding body. He rode to the home of his older sister Emilia, Emilia and was a serious woman who understood the gravity of the situation. She tended to Louisa and had one of her maids tend to the wounds of Ignacio. She told a stable groom to prepare a coach with their best team.

When the two young people were bandaged, she gave them a hamper of food, two bottles of wine and a bottle of brandy, she told them to drink the brandy for pain and to drink the wine at night to sleep. She pressed a leather sack of gold and silver coins into the hands of Ignacio and told him, “Head for the port of Malaga, Andalucia, we are shipping swords and knives to Lavaca, Matagorda, and the ship leaves in ten days, the ship is the Corazon de Mexico, give the captain this letter and you will be safe, now go!”

The groom drove them to the coast and left them with the ship and the Captain who treated the couple as royalty. Louisa was withdrawn and rarely ventured from their cabin during the five week trip across the Atlantic. Ignacio realized she would need time to recover and he was determined to give her all the time she required.

The village of Lavaca was a cultural shock for the young couple. The roughshod Texican seemed to be little more than uncouth barbarians; yet, they were respectful with a strong sense of justice and fearlessness.

At first Ignacio disliked these frontier ruffians, but he soon realized the very element of independence and self-reliance that made him learn the weapon manufacturing business is what drives these Texans. He learned to admire their rugged individualism and sense of right and wrong.

With the Mexicans, there was a distinct set of social classes that reminded him of Spain. They were among the upper levels of society, since they were born of Spanish aristocracy. The Mexican born of Spanish blood was next, followed by the Mexican born of Indian and Spanish blood. The Indian was of the lowest class. The aristocrats considered beneath their station to associate with lesser people. Yet, people from lower social classes were always trying to marry their children to a higher social group to attain entry to a higher level and hopefully any wealth that might part of the deal.

Ignacio had already seen the caste system at its worst. He preferred the Texans, they showed only a minimal respect to aristocrats; although, it was no wonder, among the Texans, there was a mixing of the social classes, for the wealthy aristocratic Texans were just as uncultured as the lowest classes.

It was a short time after their arrival, they met acquaintances from Spain. Fearing the possibility of Carlos sending assassins or coming to Monterey himself to kill them both in an effort to avoid repercussions in the future, they were anxious to keep moving.

Louisa hated this new country and wanted to socialize with no one, even the one man who loved her. She wore a veil to hide her crooked nose and her shame, for she now knew she was pregnant with the seed of Carlos. She had told Ignacio to tell people they were brother and sister, since she was with child and she felt as if she could never marry, because of her disgrace and her crooked nose.

When she felt the swelling begin in her belly, she told Ignacio. She expected him to throw her into the street, but he told her that he would love this child and raise it as his own. At that moment, she fell in love with the brave young man that had saved her life and told herself that she could never look at another. She told him she wanted to start a new life in Oregon, to be away from the old world and the horrible memories. Ignacio longed for adventure and told her that Oregon would be a good place for them to build a life. He kissed her cheek, she felt herself swoon and she almost fainted.

At some point in the future, she knew they would marry and could live as man and wife; she knew that day would come in their future, when she felt safe and free of the Old World.

Ignacio thought the wagons of Texas were weak and poorly made, there was no comparison in the craftsmanship of Toledo and Mexico, but he bought one of the inferior wagons, for he was sure that his future wife would be unable to ride all the way to Texas in her present condition.

He purchased the best wagon he could find and enough supplies to carry them to Texas. He hired two young vaqueros to guard them and help with the chores. The vaqueros were just boys with quick smiles, but they were quick, brave, strong, and fearless. Alejandro and Pepe were of true Mexican stock. They were illiterate, but possessed the skills of master horsemen and stockmen. They also had that Spanish trait of undying loyalty to a patron. He was sure they would fight to the death to defend Louisa, for that feature was embedded deep within the soul of the Hispanic and his culture of machismo.

Ignacio knew of the Comanche and the even more ruthless Comanchero, the mixed blood offspring who traded with the Comanche for slaves and gold, and supplied them with guns; they had a reputation for hating everyone and everything. He swore if they were under attack, Louisa would never be taken alive. He made sure that his vaqueros understood his wishes in that regard. They each nodded with solemnity, indicating that they understood their responsibilities; at that instant they had both respect and love for their Spanish patron, for he gave them this great measure of trust and responsibility that is so important to the young men of the Mexican culture.

During the trip through Texas, Ignacio was glad he had his vaqueros with him. They rode past many men who looked to be bandits, but the bandits seemed to dislike the possibility of armed resistance from three well armed men. In the desert of North Texas, they were camped for the night when the voice of a gringo caught their attention, “Hello the camp, Ranger Mckee, coming in.”

Ignacio drew his pistol as did his vaqueros.

Ranger Mckee walked into the light of the fire leading his horse. He looked strange and frightening, he stood over six feet tall and had multiple weapons on his belt and in scabbards on his horse. As he walked into camp he smiled and said, “buenos noches”, with the horrible gringo accent. Everyone was silent as they stared at this stranger who seemed to travel alone. He asked if he could have a bowl of beans, Ignacio nodded his head and the ranger opened a saddle bag to withdraw a wooden bowl and spoon. He ate several bites and asked if they knew Querna Vaca was tracking them.

“Who is Querna Vaca?” asked Ignacio.

“If you live long enough, you will meet him and his men just before daylight.”

Ignacio asked the ranger to explain.

He is one of the worst Comanches that has ever lived and he has eight or ten of the most bloodthirsty Comanches and Comancheros in Texas as his companeros. Tommorrow they plan to kill you and your men, and steal your woman and anything you have of value.

At first, Ignacio thought Ranger Makee might be an assassin, but this sounded much worse. He asked the ranger how he knew all this information.

Mckee smiled and said, “I’ve been tracking him for three months; you’ens are the first victims I’ve found, before he killed them.”

“What do you intend on doing,” Ignacio asked.

“I’m going to wait until he comes in the morning and kill him and his men or die trying.”

“Can we help you, Señor?”

“The help would be appreciated, but they will be coming fast and ready to kill. If you hesitate you will die. If they captures you alive, they will torture you for hours, just so you know what to expect.”

“We will fight, Señor. We will fight to the death.”

“I was hoping you wanted to fight. Put out the fire and roll the wagon over here. We’ll turn it over in this coulee and build a redoubt. I want the four of you in the fort, I’m going back in that brush and shoot them in the back as they run past me. I may come up out of that hole with guns blazing if it looks like you are going to be overrun, so don’t shoot me.”

Ignacio made sure his vaqueros understood the battle plan and they began preparing for the battle.

The first Comanche crawled to within thirty yards of Ignacio’s little group and stood up to charge at a full speed run with a blood curdling scream. Ignacio and his vaqueros all three fired into the torso and the Comanche was sliding forward with his momentum and stopped within a few feet of the coulee. One of the vaqueros was shot through the hip, but he turned to fire at another charging Comanche. Ignacio could see the ranger firing into the backs of the attackers and then walking forward with both revolvers firing. It was almost over when a bullet smashed into his kneecap, Ignacio fell forward onto the lifeless body of Pepe. Ignacio raised his revolver to fire just as Querna Vaca brought his war ax down on the left temple of Ignacio, exposing a portion of his brain. Louisa drew Ignacio’s sword and plunged it upward into the belly of Querna Vaca until it pierced his heart. Querna dropped his weapons and touched his fingertips to his chest and mouthed a silent scream; until, he fell forward and pushed the sword all the way through his back. The battle was over, the three men who were protecting her were all dead and she was going into labor.

Ranger McKee carried her from the carnage and into the shade of a small tree. After she tried to deliver the baby for the rest of the day and into the night, Ranger Mckee told her he knew how to help cows deliver and if she didn’t deliver the baby soon, she would be too weak to deliver the baby and they would both die.

Louisa told him to do what he needed to do, while she still had the strength to help.

McKee felt in the birth canal and found the head in a normal position, but one foot was beside the head and there wasn’t enough room for the baby to be born. Using his knowledge of cows, he placed her lower back on his thigh and pushed the baby back with all his might, when he felt the baby slip backward, he pushed on the little foot until it slipped backward and upward in the birth canal. The baby slid forward at a tremendous rate of speed and was born. Louisa passed out when the baby was slid into Mckee’s hands. He cleaned up the baby boy with his bandana and held the baby to Louisa’s breast to suckle. While holding the baby, he laughed at its’ aggressive appetite. He looked sadly at he bite scars on her thighs and breasts and assumed she was ravaged by Comanches, it probably happened at the same time her nose was broken. It wasn’t a terrible break, the lower half was angled to the left a quarter inch or so, but it was the only blemish on an angelic face, a face that was beyond comparison on the frontier of Texas.

She would need help, Makee’s rangering contract was up and since Querna Vaca and his merry band was dead, he no longer had other responsibilities. He would take care of her and the baby, until they were with her people. He held the baby when it was done feeding and drifted into a light sleep, while Louisa slept a deep sleep.

Mckee introduced her to her baby before daylight the next morning and explained that the baby had already fed during the night and he had an excellent appetite. She smiled at the baby as if he was the most beautiful treasure in the world, while Mckee wandered into the brush to round up as many horses as he could find to get them moving. By noon Mckee had his horse, the team for the wagon and the vaqueros’ horses, as well as several of the comanche horses. He didn’t know how she was set for finances, but the horses had value and some of them could fetch a twenty dollar gold piece.

He retrieved all the weapons from the battle and the fine Spanish sword Louisa had used so well to stop that homicidal bastard Querna Vaca. He found the leather pouch carrying the gold and silver Spanish coins on Ignacio and put them into the wagon. She was pretty well set up, he could accompany her wherever she wanted to go and she would have enough money to support herself for a long time or until she could find a husband.

Louisa looked upon Mckee as almost a god, he came to them out of the blue, to warn them of an indian attack, an attack she and her baby would not have survived. He then delivered her baby, when it was caught in a position that would have killed her and the baby. He was truly a special man, yet he was so humble and polite. He had seen her scarred body and crooked nose, but didn’t ask the questions she didn’t want to answer. She could feel herself falling in love with this gentle giant, this gringo, who smiled so openly, when he looked her in the eye, he never stared at her crooked nose. With him she felt safe and accepted: she never wore a veil again for the rest of her life. If this giant gringo could accept her without questions, the rest of the world could accept her as well.

He laid Ignacio, Pepe, and Alejandro in shallow graves and by mid-afternoon, they were ready to travel a few miles before dark. He felt it was important for the mental health of Louisa to get away from the scene of the battle.

When they were ready to start, he asked Louisa where she would like him to take her. He could have fallen over when she said Oregon.

He once rode all the way to Santa Fe to shoot a cold blooded killer, but that was the farthest he had ever been outside of Texas. There was no hope of her reaching Oregon, unless he helped her, but there were no guarantees she would make it, even with his help.

Heading North Out Of Texas

Makee was born on a ranch in West Texas twenty seven years earlier, He had been in twelve skirmishes with Comanches, had fought countless Comancheros, and had hanged many renegades and horse thieves, but he had never been north of Texas. It was late fall, but he knew if he stayed East of the Rockies they could probably travel all winter; at least, if the snow didn’t get too deep.

The woman and the baby seemed to grow stronger each day. Louisa and Ranger Mckee took turns riding and driving the wagon. Mckee was actually beginning to like the baby. He was a strong little fellow that would grab his finger and hang on then smile and giggle. McKee was ten years old and an only child, when the Comanches killed his parents. After the death of his parents, he had lived off the land and by using his wits, until he was big enough to lie about his age of thirteen and become a ranger. He had never been around children and this was a new experience for him, an experience he was really starting to enjoy.

Growing up as a ranger meant long hours in the saddle and moments of extreme danger. They never chased and hanged good men. He had mainly been exposed to the worst examples of human kind. The only women he had known were the women of the saloons. they loved his boyish smiles and shy mannerisms, but he always had an empty feeling in his soul the next morning. After awhile, he stopped joining his ranger buddies for a chance to relax with whiskey and women at a saloon after a successful patrol. He would rather enjoy a full night’s sleep. He never really developed a taste for whiskey; he had just liked the camaraderie of his friends and the attention of the whores.

He became a recluse, there was no chance of securing a wife, there was no woman who wanted to live as a wife alone and never knowing whether her husband was dead and scalped on the Staked Plains or in old Mexico.

In his imagination, he made himself think of Louisa as his wife and of the boy Dominic as his own son. For the first time in his life, Ranger Makee was feeling content and happy. Louisa enjoyed riding and often showed off her equestrian skills. It was obvious she had learned real riding skills from a master in Spain.

They spoke in a mix of Spanish and English and although Mckee had no concept of verb tenses, for few Spanish speakers in the New World mastered the correct usage of Spanish, he was learning the grammatically correct aristocratic Spanish from Louisa; unfortunately, she was picking up the same imperfections in English that Mckee had, as well as his direct, slow speech patterns, but she was learning McKee’s imprecise English at a tremendous rate.

Sometimes Mckee wondered whether she expected him to ride back to Texas after they arrived in Oregon or whether she might want him to stay in Oregon. Maybe he could be a substitute father of Dominic and a friend of Louisa, for he never thought this fine Spanish lady would look upon him as a possible husband. She is a cultured beautiful Spanish Lady: he is an Indian fighter, tracker of horse thieves, and a Texas Ranger, he had been a ranger since he was thirteen, he had spent most of his life in the saddle, he had been wounded by twelve bullets and arrows, she probably thought of him as just a little better than a half civilized Comanche.

For the first time in his life, he was not alone. He had ridden with many rangers and seen too many of them die, but even when he rode with these rough men, he was alone. He now had a spiritual partner and he felt fulfilled. For the first time, since his parents were killed, he had deep loving feelings for a human being; he thought maybe he was falling in love with Dominic and Louisa.

It was mid-afternoon when two human figures came running down from the foothills to the East. They were running very hard and about a mile away from the wagon.

Ranger Mckee, said to himself, “What’s going on here?”

He drew his rifle from his scabbard and started to trot toward the two figures. Suddenly, a group of eight riders rode down from the hill. The ranger spurred his horse into a gallop and said to himself, “I don’t like the way this looks.”

He fired twice at the lead rider and missed both times, the rider was within twenty yards of one of the runners and was ready to throw his lance. McKee aimed as well as could on his galloping horse from sixty yards and fired just as the lance left his hand. The bullet from the Sharps struck the Apache in the center of the chest and he flew backwards out of the saddle, but McKee watched in horror as the lance arced through the air and struck the running Indian woman in the lower back, the blade and part of the shaft were sticking out of her lower abdomen.

McKee could see that she was carrying a newborn baby and he flew into a killing rage. He draped the Sharps over the saddle horn by a leather thong he kept tied to the rifle. He then drew the Navy Colts and killed the other Apaches with a bloodlust he had never felt before. In less than a minute, the Apaches were all knocked from their saddles. He finished off two of them with a double barrel shotgun he kept in a saddle scabbard and finished off the last one with his Bowie knife. As Louisa drove up in the wagon he reloaded his pistols and put a bullet in the head of each Apache. He learned a long time ago not to trust Apaches to die, just because they had a mortal wound. He then joined the Indian who was trying to comfort his dying wife.

Louisa ran up and asked the ranger in Spanish if there was anything they could do. Mckee tightened his lips and shook his head no. She was on her knees and was holding her newborn to her breast. Eventually, she sat down on her calves and tried to be as comfortable as possible while waiting to die.

Mckee and the man were communicating with sign language. Louisa asked what the man was saying. He says his wife can’t die in peace, knowing that her baby daughter will starve to death.

Louisa looked shocked and said, “Ranger Mckee, you tell her that I will feed her baby like it is my own and raise her up to be a young woman.”

Mckee gave the appropriate hand signals and the young Indian woman’s facial expression took on a look of peacefulness. She held out the baby to Louisa and slumped down to die.

They laid her in the wagon and drove to a little hill and buried her at sunset. Louisa fixed dinner, while the men dug the grave. They buried her in silence. After dinner the Indian man sang a funeral song in his own language. It was a haunting song that made the hair stand up on Mckee’s arms. When he was finished, Louisa sang a Spanish song of love, life, and death. During the song, the Indian man started crying and Ranger Mckee felt all the emotion of twenty-six years boil to the surface and he began to cry, not so much from death and sorrow, but from the happiness of having a good woman with him and the expression of kindness she showed by taking on the little Indian baby. His family was getting bigger.

Louisa now began to realize why the Texas Rangers are regarded so highly. Ranger Mckee didn’t hesitate when he saw an injustice. He was not only the peace officer, but he was the judge, jury, and executioner as well. He was a magnificent man, but he was as humble and unassuming as he was brave. She decided that this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

The next morning at daylight, Mckee was awakened to the sound of an animal in camp. He jumped out of his bedroll to see the Indian cut the throat of an exhausted bull elk. Mckee helped the man butcher the animal, but he was astounded by what he had just seen.

When the men were cooking elk steaks, beans with onions, and coffee, Mckee began to ask the man how he had caught the elk and brought it into camp.

The Indian explained that he was from the Tarahumara tribe from the high mountains of Northwestern Mexico. They were legendary runners who hunt game by running it down. They live in the high mountains and usually don’t venture away from home, because they are shy of the rest of the world.

They had to leave their home because his wife was in a contract of marriage to a chief’s son, it was arranged when she was a small girl, but she had fallen in love with him, Chi Chi and they decided to elope, so they ran away.

They didn’t expect the chief to hire Apaches to hunt them down. The Apaches had been on their trail for over a year and if they wouldn’t have run into Ranger Mckee, he too would have died with his wife and since Ranger Mckee had saved his life he was bound to serve him for the rest of his life.

In all his days of rangering, Mckee had never heard such a story. He had heard of the Tarahumara, but considered them to be legends. They were said to be able to run distances of a hundred and even two hundred miles. No wonder those Apaches looked so gaunt, they had spent a year trying to run down these two young runners, “foot throwers” they call themselves, it was no telling how many horses the Apaches had stolen trying to keep up with the runners. The Apaches were among some of the best trackers, they were considered legendary like McKee, but to run down people who can run over a hundred miles a day would kill horses, you would kill a horse every few days.

Mckee wondered if he could have run down these two. The Apaches were relentless and would have considered it to be a matter of honor; although, from their appearances, they looked more dead than alive, they couldn’t have pursued the young couple much farther before the pursuers would have died on the trail. The story was even more phenomenal when you consider his wife ran during her pregnancy and gave birth a few days ago; yet, they were still running and they looked to be in great shape.

He told the tale to Louisa and she began to cry. Mckee put his hand on her shoulder and said that at least the two lovers were together for a year and that the fruit of their love would now live under their protection. Louisa spun into Mckee and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle and squeezed with an unimagined strength. She was five foot eight, Mckee was six foot two and an extremely strong man, but her strength was almost frightening. She cried even harder and Mckee patted her back with his hand and told her that things would work out.

Later, Mckee was overwhelmed with the strength of Louisa’s bear hug around his belly. She was visibly upset, but was she upset with him, did he do something wrong? It was all very confusing for Mckee, for he was the fearless Indian fighter and tracker of horse thieves, because the fearless hunter and executioner of bad men had no experience in affairs of the heart.

Ranger Mckee had never considered having a servant and disliked the term itself, but Chi Chi was proving himself to be very useful. Every afternoon, he would run ahead to find a good campsite with good water and feed for the horses. He’d have a fire started and fresh meat or fish cooking, when the wagon arrived.

One morning, Chi Chi saw a lone buffalo about a mile in the distance. He told Mckee to be ready because he was going to run way around the buffalo and then spook it towards Mckee and his horse. Mckee started to signal him that buffalo may turn to fight, but Chi Chi was already running away to flank the buffalo.

Chi Chi was an excellent hunter, so Mckee assumed he knew what he was doing.

In the distance, Mckee saw Chi Chi run toward the buffalo to spook him. The buffalo took three strides in retreat and then spun to fight. Chi Chi kept running straight at him and slapped the buffalo on the forehead and ran toward Mckee.

“Well, he don’t lack for nerve,” Mckee said out loud when the buffalo followed Chi Chi with a frightening burst of speed.

The distance was eaten up by the speed of Chi Chi and the rampaging bull in a few minutes. Chi Chi swung North away from the wagon, to take Louisa and the children out of danger and Mckee charged the buffalo at full speed. He saw his first two rounds sink deep into the chest cavity, he was then galloping alongside the buffalo, the animal did not slow or show signs of distress, McKee put the muzzle up against the animal’s back and fired. The bullet destroyed the heart of the beast and he collapsed in a rolling heap.

Chi Chi let out a war cry and came back to dance around the buffalo in celebration. Mckee let out a Comanche war whoop as Louisa drove up in the wagon. They were celebrating because of the kill and partially because they knew, there would be no starvation for the rest of the winter. For they could carry all the meat on the wagon and the meat would be preserved in the cold. That day they celebrated with a day of rest and a meal of tongue with wild prairie onions.

Later that afternoon, Chi Chi began mixing and cooking a pot of cactus and other plants he had been collecting along the trail. He rendered some of the buffalo fat and mixed it in with the residue of the plants. Once it was stirred well, Chi Chi placed it in the snow to cool.

Two hours later it had congealed into a gel, he presented the mixture to Louisa in a wooden bowl. She looked at him with a question on her face. He made the motions of rubbing the mixture on his chest. At first she thought it was meant as a breast salve, but then he pointed to a scar on his forearm and put a small amount on the scar.

He had surely seen the scars from the bites on her breasts, they were still vivid red marks on her ivory skin. She thanked him and thought she would first experiment and apply the mixture to the scars on her abdomen. Her breasts were the only things keeping the helpless babies alive and she didn’t want to take a chance of ruining their feed supply.

She applied the medicine that evening and in the morning she looked at the scars in disbelief, they were nearly gone. The angry looking redness had disappeared and the scars were much harder to see. She was overjoyed and quickly applied the medicine to all the scars she could see and reach. Within days of applying Chi Chi’s salve the scars had all but disappeared, there were only faint traces of the marks.

She thought of the ranger and how good it felt to hug him and hold him to her body. He had been so embarrassed and at a loss to know to hug her back. She laughed at his naive nature that she admired so much. He was a darling man and she needed him to hold her.

She devised a plan. When Chi Chi went out on one of his two hour runs, she called Mckee into the wagon under the pretense of rubbing the salve on her back. He was rubbing the salve into the scars of her back, when she pushed the sheet covering her backside to expose a few scars he had never seen. Mckee began rubbing the salve into these new scars very dutifully and professionally, as Louisa made a low guttural cat noise in her throat and turned around to embrace Mckee to her naked body. Mckee started to panic, when he felt the abnormally strong Louisa grab him in a fit of passion, but he forced himself to relax and returned the raw passion of a woman overwhelmed with a combination of love and lust, and responded with a gentle loving touch, a response that inflamed Louisa’s aggressive raw passion even more.

In less than two hours, they had consummated the passions that had been pent up for years within both these young souls and had pledged their love and commitment to each other for the rest of their lives. Thus a true American love story was born from tragedy and pain.

Their love was to span six decades.

Later on that summer, Ranger McKee and his family met Colonel Fallon’s wagon train in the area that was to become Montana. They were shocked to see the suffering these Americans had endured; for while the American wagons were falling apart and many of the people seemed on the verge of starvation, their wagon was still sound and they had eaten quite well on the trail, thanks to Chi Chi with his unique skills at hunting and gathering wild food.

The Americans found it astounding that the Mckee wagon had been on the trail all winter.

Colonel Fallon was glad to have the experienced lawman and Indian fighter with him, but he had never met a man so instilled with the thoughts of right and wrong and the sense of being the law, the judge, and the executioner. Colonel Fallon took time to explain to Ranger Mckee that the laws of Texas don’t necessarily apply to someone who had never been to Texas. Mckee was in a state of shock at the concept of jurisdictions, in Mckee’s mind, Texas was the only law west of the Red River and the idea that they were in an area with no real law, other than the Colonel’s jurisdiction over the wagon train was very confusing for a Ranger.

The Colonel appointed Ranger Mckee as his second in command and began instructing Mckee in the Constitution and of how America had won its Independence. Thus from these early history lessons and of teaching McKee to read, there emerged a brilliant mind from this rustic frontiersman, for he read every book the people in the wagon train had to offer. Captain Levin introduced him to Plato and they had great philosophical discussions that often left the old sea captain perplexed and amazed at the young man’s ability to grasp complex concepts so soon after learning to read. This was the nucleus of the transformation of a rugged Texas Ranger into a judge for the future state of Oregon.

The Colonel married the couple a few days after they joined the wagon train, Louisa was beginning to swell and she wanted to talk to the other ladies, using her newly acquired English with a back country Texas accent, she wanted to talk about of her new baby and her Ranger. She was quickly accepted among the women of the wagon train, who admired her for taking in the orphaned baby and her knowledge of ladylike culture.

Chi Chi began working closely with the Colonel and the guide Mr Tomlin, to find forage and water.

The new wagon brought hope and strength to the wagon train, because of their positive attitude and their ability to thrive in the wilderness. Americans were fulfilling these dreams of Manifest Destiny. They were bringing these ideas of nationhood and freedom to the Pacific Northwest with a resourcefulness and richness of ability. There was a richness of intellect and ingenuity that would help them tame this new country and make it safe and civilized in the near future.

Epilogue: This is a chapter from a novel about the Oregon Trail. It is meant to portray how Americans from diverse cultures have used their abilities to overcome almost insurmountable obstacles. These people relied on themselves and each other to accomplish great things. There was no need for the government to come in and regulate every phase of their lives, dependency on the government and the hunger for power and control by politicians would come much later. As humans weakened and developed fear of the unknown and the future, some people felt the need for benevolent despots to guide and protect them. These concepts were almost unheard of by those who ventured to Oregon; for them, the weak died along the way and the cowards never started. The cowards came much later.

Using the murky reasoning of Obama Logic, best described as an enigma, An Islamist Spring has been imposed upon the world with the aid and encouragement of Obama. In his latest attempt to impose freedom and mayhem on the people of Libya, Obama has used the American military to insure that the people of Libya could depose their despot and pave the way for a wave of terror and bloodshed, while they determine their own Islamic Fundamentalist destiny.

While Socialist revolutionaries praise the vision of Obama, there are others who are willing to realistically appraise what the Narcissist in Chief and his personal direction of the American military has accomplished with this latest foreign policy disaster.

Libya has some of the richest sweet crude reserves in the world. The crude is called sweet crude because it costs far less to refine than other crude oil. In the world of oil, on which the true economy of the world is based, an economy in which Obama wants America to be only a consumer of wealth and not a producer of wealth, this sweet crude is among the most valuable. Thus it will be a great generator of wealth for whatever Islamic Fundamentalist Strongman that forces his way into power.

It is the nature of Obama Logic that nothing he does is ever explained or needs to be explained: whether it is because he is incapable of explaining his actions or he refuses to explain because of wishing to maintain a self-imposed image of omnipotency or perhaps, he knows if the country knew his true intentions, he would need to deal with his own American uprising, we will never know.

If Islamic Fundamentalists kept their insanity and thirst for blood and mayhem within their own borders, the free world would be content to watch them commit atrocities and sodomize each other, under the name of Allah; unfortunately, the nature of the Islamic Fundamentalist requires them to export their madness and sexual perversities beyond their own borders to the free world. Consequently, Obama has decided, he needs to help these Islamic Fundamentalists spread their gospel throughout the world by indirectly providing them with the wealth of one of the most oil rich countries in the world. Now, they will be truly free to define their own brand of Islamic Fundamentalism throughout the world.

Thus when the blood stops flowing in Libya, they will be free to finance Jihad and liberate the free world of this demonic possession of personal and religious freedoms. This may well be the most enduring aspect of the Obama legacy. We will have Obama to thank for the new mindless wave of terror that will be unleashed upon the free world with the almost limitless funds to be provided to the new masters of terror, by Libya’s sweet crude and the helpful hand of Obama guiding the US military.

To show our gratitude towards Obama and his bizarre willingness to provide nearly limitless funding to Islamic nut sacks devoted to terror, this new wave of terror should be known as the Obama’s Terror and when the American military once again has to storm the shores of Tripoli to stop the mindless and bloody insanity, we should toast their sacrifice and praise the unfathomable lunacy of Obama Logic.

RINOs Are Herd Animals

How convenient it was for Christie to keep his rather large posterior blocking the view of Republican candidates, while he played his voters and supporters for chumps with his mincing indecision on whether to finally admit he didn’t want to run for the presidency. But for what purpose, the casual observer may ask in bewilderment.

Oh, but the answer is easy and was exposed today: Christie admitted, it was an “easy decision” to endorse Romney. It was an easy decision because it was his intention all along to endorse his fellow RINO.

A candidate who teases the public while playing the coy overly cherubic nymph, who can’t make up her mind to go skinny dipping in the pool of public opinion, will hold the public’s interest much longer than the intellectually honest one who says she is absolutely not swimming in her birthday suit. Thus the indecisive nymph holds the public’s attention with promises of promiscuous and salacious behavior, while she offers glimpses of her abundant fat rolls to entice and keep the libido of the crowd at a fevered pitch.

Alas, she is but a tease, the pachyderm nymph can dance only so long and must walk off stage before boredom begins to set in and the crowd loses interest, but wait the roly-poly nymph has a final offer of advice for those who enjoy being teased and tempted. The nymph stands to announce an endorsement for Romney!

Well dog my cats, who could have seen that one coming. A RINO throwing his considerable weight behind another RINO, what an original concept.

An old political parable says, “Politics makes for strange bedfellows.” I will try to keep from imagining that one, but it is not hard to imagine the AGW, amnesty, and Socialized Healthcare boys throwing themselves in together in showers and on large mattresses. Like in your most vivid imagination, it is not the act itself, but the manner in which it was done; that is what is found to be the most offensive.

Christie had the nerve to say it was “completely intellectually dishonest” to compare Romneycare to Obamacare; actually, it was completely intellectually dishonest for him to lead his supporters along about the possibility of a run, when his intent was too hold the public’s attention for as long as possible, so that Christy’s endorsement of Romney would have the greatest bang for the buck. Like most plans hatched by a literate devious mind that has an inflated opinion of its effectiveness, these well laid plans often reach up and take a bite from the posterior of the perpetrator.

No, Chris Christie, you accomplished nothing with your coyness, except perhaps injury to your own reputation as being a fickle and indecisive politician. You managed only to steal attention from the honest efforts of the real candidates, who are willing to stand in front of the nation and debate the issues and expose their philosophies. These candidates have the courage of their convictions and they are honest in their desire to run for the presidency. You on the other hand have displayed a duplicitous personality and a lack of ethics, along with a healthy measure of this intellectual dishonesty you so disingenuously mentioned. While I have an aversion to the thought of voting for a RINO, I will say that our leading candidates seem to all have ethics, a welcome change from the present administration. It is the lack of ethics that will defeat Obama and I doubt that your dubious endorsement will have a measurable effect on Romney’s poll numbers or on the election; especially, since it is precisely this dishonest approach to politics that has Americans so upset with politicians and particularly, the Obama Administration.