Lessons from a Flintstone

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: "You can say you are from Detroit and you can say you are from Flint. When you say you from Flint even the guy from Detroit gives you respect." - Isiah Thomas

Flintstones take a certain weird pride in our hometown's "down and dirty" reputation. We believe, by virtue of being born here, that we are somehow more street-wise and tougher than you.

As I've mentioned before, I didn't exactly grow up on the mean streets of Flint. In the south end, the only crack I was exposed to were those in the sidewalks of my paper route. However, even those of us Flintoids who were somewhat sheltered growing up in a middle-class neighborhood and attending Catholic schools, we couldn't help but eventually learning some hard life's lessons Flint had to offer.

For those of you not from here, I'd like to offer a few survival skills I learned the hard way.



Yes, I really was thrown out of the back window of a school bus by an upper-classman because I ran out of jokes. Ain't that tough enough? Have you ever heard of this happening anywhere else? I didn't think so.



I learned the hard way that conflicts rarely escalate slowly and deliberately. Prior to the face cast, I always thought a fight couldn't break out until each combatant expressed their intentions. Maybe first there would be a volley of "yo mama" insults, as each sized up the other. This process would allow for numerous exits for the perceived weaker combatant to yield. After all, a bruised honor never requires plastic surgery. Imagine my surprise when I learned that all those steps could be ignored with one unannounced sucker punch, and that one second you could be running across the field playing keep-away during 8th grade recess at Holy Redeemer, and the next instant finding yourself coming to and staring up at the face of a terrified nun.

It was then that I decided to try and avoid fighting as I didn't enjoy hospitals nor vomiting blood. However, if it was going to come to fisticuffs, I would throw the first punch next time. It was a strategy I employed to my benefit a few years later, ending my fisticuffs career (hopefully) with a record of 3-2.

NOTE (regarding exception to rule 2): 2X4s are actually 1.5 inches wide and typically spaced every 16 inches in the framework of walls, taking up about 8% of the total space behind the drywall. Therefore, a randomly hammered nail has a 92% chance of finding hollow wall. If you use an electronic stud-finder and clearly mark the stud's location, I've found the odds of my next nail finding said stud is about 90% (10% less than a random right cross).



Before you ask the obvious, my job required my presence in the projects. I kept that faux-$20 in my desk to remind myself the cost of being gullible. When my job required delivering an open route in the projects, I learned to take a couple extra packs of smokes with me. I would paste an idiotic smile on my face and pass out single cigarretes to anyone who looked at me cross-eyed as I hurriedly made the rounds. Hey, it worked!

Those were some of the lessons I learned the hard way. I'm from Flint... so RESPECT, yo!

Dennis Rodman: Bad Boy and Good Guy

The Detroit Pistons organization announced last week that Dennis Rodman's #10 jersey would be retired into the rafters of the Palace of Auburn Hills on April 1st, and Dennis has indicated his intention on being there for what he calls "one of the highlights of my life." I, for one, am very much looking forward to this long overdue event, not just because of his stellar career, but also for what he did for one grieving family on a cold Michigan winter afternoon on February 5, 1989.

I have blogged before about losing my younger brother Donnie and his fiancee Marcie to a drunk driver here and here.

Donnie was 23 years old when he was killed in 1988, 23 years ago this July. Hard to believe, when put in those terms. But what I haven't told you about, until now, is what this has to do with Dennis Rodman. You see, in 1988 - long before his five World Championship rings (two with The Pistons and 3 with the Bulls), and before he became known for his rainbow-colored hair, an assortment of tattoos and body piercings and wearing women's clothing - he was simply "The Worm", a young rebounding phenom and original member of the Detroit Piston's Bad Boys. The Piston were coming off of their best season ever to that point, having eventually lost in 7 games to the 1988 World Champion Lakers.

Nobody was looking forward to that next season more than Donnie. He loved the Pistons, but most of all, he loved Dennis Rodman.

Perhaps it's easier if I post the following column that ran on February 8, 1989, in the Flint Journal (re-typed from a yellowed original I keep in a box on a closet shelf). Dean, I realize I didn't get your permission to post this, so just drop me a line if you want me to pull it. I just know I couldn't tell this story better.

Warmest Regards Rodman's reply touches grieving family
By DEAN HOWE
Journal sports writer
Letters can say so much.

Dear Rick:
I know there is nothing I can say to relieve your pain and grief. From what you've told me, your brother was a very special person. Your love for him and all the good memories you still have are obvious.
Your letter reminds us that our time is limited, so we must make the most of it. I try to demonstrate that when I play basketball. I would like to think that's the quality Donnie identified with.
Thanks for sharing those memories with me.
Warmest Regards,
Dennis Rodman

Rick Carlson went to the mailbox and opened up that letter late last month.
He was surprised.
Carlson's younger brother, Donnie, was a loyal fan of the Detroit Pistons, and Dennis Rodman, the Piston's super sixth man, in particular.
All of the Carlson family had looked forward to showing up at The Palace this winter, to cheer on Dennis "Worm" Rodman.
"Donnie couldn't stop thinking about the Pistons and the great year they just had," said older brother Rick. "We were playing golf last July, all us Carlson brothers. Nobody was thinking about basketball except Donnie. He couldn't stop talking about how much fun it would be to go to The Palace this year.
A few days after that golf outing, a tragic accident would take the life of Donnie, 23, and his fiancee, Marcie martin, 21.
A pickup truck ran a red light and smashed into the Carlson vehicle.
Two families mourned and still mourn today.

Dear Worm,
This is no ordinary fan letter. I read recently that you receive so many letters from fans that you have had to have a firm help you answer them. This letter needs no answer. I would only like you to personally see it.
See, it's about my brother Donnie, 23 years old last summer when he died. Don was the youngest of five children... we're a close family. If there is a closer family in the history of the world, I don't know about it...

Rick Carlson needed to write a letter to Dennis Rodman, for his family, for his peace of mind.
He had been thinking about it since Donnie's death. So, early last month he got the courage to sit down and express his thoughts. They were emotional, touching, from the heart.
Seven pages of feeling by pen and paper.
"I didn't want anyone to see this but Dennis," said Rick. "I wasn't looking for a response.This was just so personal to me I had to write it. I was preoccupied at work. I didn't think I'd hear from him."
But Rodman got the message and he responded.
A few days after writing the letter - Carlson can't remember when he sent it out - a call came from Rodman's agent's secretary.
And then came the letter which touched so many deeply in the Carlson family.

P'S. On Sunday, Feb. 5 vs. Chicago on CBS, I will try (technically against NBA rules) to wear a black stripe on one sock in memory of Donnie.

Rodman also said he would provide two tickets for the Carlsons, his guest at Sunday's game against the Chicago Bulls. Rick managed to scrounge up a couple more tickets and when the national television lights brightened The Palace, there were the Carlsons - father Donald Sr., Rick, Jerry and Greg, 15 rows up in the stands.
Watching Dennis do his thing with one black-striped sock.

It occured to me a couple weeks after the accident that I should write and tell you about Donnie. I knew then that this year would have been special for Donnie and that all eyes would be on you. Every time Worm made a play, grabbed a rebound, dunked on a layup, whatever, all of the family would get a tear in the eye, a lump in the throat and pay a quiet tribute to Donnie for his choice as favorite Piston player.
I didn't write then because, as I said before, I don't write fan letters. I thought it might upset you for no reason, thinking you couldn't do anything for our grief. But you can. Just continue to play the same inspired way you have been playing.

The game had been over for almost an hour at The Palace Sunday afternoon when Dennis Rodman emerged from the locker room to seek out the person who had written him one of the many letters he receives in a week.
The letter had left an impact.
Rodman took a father aside shook his hand warmly and spoke in soft tones. He met Rick and shook his hand. The others too.
"It's not so much what he said but what he didn't say that mattered to us," said Carlson. "We could see that he was a genuine, sincere, a feeling kind of human being. We were touched. I think Dennis was too."
Rodman dug into his duffel bag and pulled out one sweaty sock with a black elastic band stitched to the top.
The National Basketball Association would not penalize him for breaking any rules. Only Rodman, a father and his three sons had noticed the stitched tribute anyway.

By writing this letter, I'm going to believe during so many of the special moments watching you play that your inspiration just might be in some small part due to this letter and that some of what you are doing is being done for Donnie and Marcie and those of us left behind.

"I feel better now that I wrote the letter," said Carlson. "I didn't want to make it embarrassing for him. That wasn't my intent. I just wanted to let him know how much Donnie admired him as a basketball player."

Two letters sent in the night.
Perhaps the only two letters ever between new friends, the Carlsons and one pro basketball player.
They have become pen pals for life.

The Pistons went on to win the Championship that year, sweeping the Lakers for their first of back-to-back titles in 1989 and 1990.

Right or wrong, it's my fault this personal story was told. I was so taken with the kindness Dennis showed us, that I thought others should know of this Bad Boy's heart of gold. As an employee of the newspaper, and in a fit of impulse, I took the marbeled stairs up from Circulation to the newsroom. I sought out Howe in the Sports department, sat across from his cluttered desk and told him this story. It never occurred to me that I could be earning Dennis a fine, nor that I probably should have asked my big brother for permission to tell his story he had meant to be private. Thankfully (as far as I know) Dennis avoided punishment and Ricky has never chastised me for doing this to this day.

I'll never forget waiting for Rodman to exit the locker room. Vinnie "the Microwave" Johnson exited first, wearing a full length fur coat, glittering bling and topped with a cool fedora as he made his way through the garage. Rodman must have confided in his fellow "X Factor" partner, John Salley, about us. Salley came out and made his way to Greg and I. His hand was the size of a small snow shovel, as he shook our hands. He looked down at us smiling, and asked, "Are you two twins or did your mom mess up twice?" He must not have spotted Rick at that point or he would have sworn triplets. My most cherished memory of that day was when Rodman finally exited the locker room and made his way to our father, taking him aside and offering his condolences. I know it meant a lot to my dad. He died about a year later. The doctors said it was the result of mesothelioma, a cancer casued by asbestos he ingested some 40 years earlier on a construction job in his youth, but we all know he really died from a broken heart.

So come April 1st of this year, when #10 is raised to the rafters, I know I'll be thinking of my brother "The Donz" and the special gift Dennis Rodman gave us so long ago. It is truly "one of the highlights of my life."

PICTURED: A signed autographed picture by Isiah Thomas driving the basket on Michael Jordan, with Worm and his black-striped sock positioning for the rebound during the February 5th, 1989 game between the Pistons and the Bulls. I was there... (Picture courtesy of my pal Pic Pic)

Super Bowl wrapup

First, I'd like to offer my congratulations to the Green Bay Packers (or is it Packards?) for their impressive victory over the "Stelers".



Having lived and worked in Wisconsin over the past summer - only a cheese brick's throw away from Lambeau Field - I take special credit for this victory, having moved back to Michigan in the fall and thereby paving the way for the Pack to grab the Vince Lombardi Trophy. Since I am convinced that the world revolves around me, I do not find a coincidence in the Detroit Lion's annual football woes and my presence in this state. You're welcome, my Wisconsin brothers and sisters.

Much is being said regarding Christina Aguilara botching the National Anthem. While sad and unforgivable, one would have to admit that her version was at least slightly better than Roseanne's.

CHATTERING TEETH EXCLUSIVE!: Transcript of Christina Aguilara's bizarre Anthem
Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
Hormones racing at the speed of light
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming?
But that don't mean it's gotta be tonight
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, If you wanna be with me, baby there's a price to pay,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd, I'm a genie in a bottle.
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air Baby, baby, baby,
Gave proof thro' the night you gotta rub me the right way.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
I'm a genie in a bottle baby, come, come, come, on and let me out

I only wish that Snickers would have seen fit to include Aguilara in the log hit.


My favorite Super Bowl commercial had to be this obscure Orville Redenbacher's popcorn ad showing Cameron Diaz feeding a vacant looking Alex Rodriguez with Orville's delicious kernels of puffiness.



What would have made this commercial even "awesomer"? A John Madden telestrating this exchange with circles and graphs and President Bush vomiting in Madden's lap... and maybe a devastating log hit taking out Diaz and ARod.

Finally, what did you think of the Black Eyed Peas halftime show? Had I been consulted in the planning stages, I would have insisted that Axl Rose join Slash on stage to sing Sweet Child o' Mine instead of the Pea's Fergie, conditioned on Axl agreeing to be auto-tuned. Now THAT would have caused a bigger spike in beer sales than any other beer ad that ran.

I will say that I dug the costumes and have already completed my own version using Christmas tubelights and an old bicycle helmet, complete with flashing strobes. I am now ready to attend my neice's March wedding in style.

The Greasy Slope of Mt. Hippie (and me without any crimpons)

Rarely do I read anything that blows me away quite like Samuel Pennell's New Year's Day piece found on American Thinker titled, Roll Back the Hippie Damage. In it, he accurately describes what ails us - that being a disintegrating traditional American family through the destruction of our culture - perpetrated against us by the "progressive" hippies from the '60's. All the while, this decay is being cheered on by a compliant media and a rationalizing academia.

What do we have to show for 50 years of slipping down the greasy slope of Mt. Hippie without any crimpons? According to Pennell:

"... the whole place (America) is turning into a street corner in San Francisco."

Pennell also briefly wonders what makes these liberals tick, and it is a question I myself have pondered more than any other. Not the socialist democrat politicians. Self-perpetuating power is what motivates them. But what about the average, everyday Obama voter? Are they simply breathtakingly ignorant? Is it possible that their motive is a destruction of our culture because they are hateful? No? If they aren't inherently evil and otherwise just plain stupid, what motivates a lib to be a lib then?

Do they look around at the rising drug use, an epidemic of broken homes and out-of-wedlock births, the over-sexualization of females, an utter destruction and bankruptcy of our economy due to their misguided philosophy they falsely believe helps poor people but really just manufactures more and more of them... do they really see all this as "progress"?

I give up trying to find an answer to that question and understand that I will be perpetually vexed by them. Rather than worry about understanding, it is time for them to simply be defeated. Utterly and convincingly.

Pennell closes with this call to action:

As a conservative, I can say with 1000% certainty that this is not what I want my America to be. This is why I am raging in favor of a conservative revolution in 2011, and I'm convinced that it will happen. I need conservatives to be loud, though-I need your help. I need for everyone speak up as loudly as they can-in public, on the internet-everywhere. Our voices will rise, and we will yell so loudly, that everyone will hear us-politicians, the press, academia-everyone. We will speak so loudly that it will be impossible to ignore, and this country will be ours again. This is still our place, this is still our land, and we can still make it what whatever we want it to be. God bless America, God bless Ronald Reagan 2011.

Time to climb back up that mountain. Why? Because we can.

Chattering Teeth's Alternate Universe - Hey, it could happen! Starring Michael Vick, President Obama (and BO posthumously)

Obama phones Eagles' owner and offers his praise for giving "the troubled star quarterback a fresh start"



OBAMA: So many people who serve time never get a fair second chance. it's never a level playing field for prisoners when they get out of jail.

So "Ookie" tortured and killed a few dogs from 2001 to 2007. What's the big deal? it's not like he single-handedly destroyed the U.S. economy in two short years, or something. The man deserves another chance to earn a few meager $Million.

FAST FORWARD 6 months...
Michael Vick press conference

VICK: I totally misinterpretted President Obama's comments back in December, 2010. I really thought he was giving me the green light to try my hand at competitive canine cage fighting again. For future reference, neutered Portuguese Water Dogs can't fight for sh*&.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Dear Blog, It's Christmas Eve and I haven't started my Christmas shopping yet

I know, I know. That is a popular statement made by numerous males this time of year, whether in casual conversation or as their Facebook profile meant to illicit boisterous insincere laughter. You know the drill... "Plenty of time"... "it's early"... HAHAHA!

It's a truism to say that most men hate shopping while most women love it. Take the Facebook example above. It would not be unusual to see a female with a status update proudly proclaiming, "Just completed my Christmas shopping" sometime in April.

Men are usually the ones who procrastinate. Why? Because they HATE shopping. You never see a male Facebook update stating something like, "I know it's late in the 3rd quarter, but I just haven't gotten around to watching that Super Bowl. Plenty of time... It's early. Call me at the 2-minute warning."

DISCLAIMER: For the record, I know there are exceptions to all generalizations, and I don't mean to imply that those males who love to Christmas shop are somehow great candidates for the new U.S. military.

Blog: So are you one of them procrapinators, or simply an athletiest?

Uhhh... neither (I don't think). I am not "procrastinating" because, unlike Christmas Eve's past, I have no intention of making that last-minute retail run spending money I don't have on crap nobody needs. You see blog, not only have I not started my Christmas shopping, I am done.

As for being an "athletiest", I guess I am, if by that you mean that I don't believe in exercise. However, if you meant "atheist" as in not believing in the reason for the season, than I am completely innocent of this charge. In fact, according to this latest Gallup poll, I am one of the "43.7% of the adult population" considered to be "Very Religious".

Blog: How can that be? Isn't it true that it is better to give than to receive? How can you call yourself a Christian and not participate in this orgy of spending?

If it is better to give than to receive, then wouldn't it be true that I would be doing a disservice to the recipients of my philanthropy for the sole purpose of pleasuring myself in my giving? Wouldn't that be considered selfish?

Blog: I kinda see where you're going with that. But what about the poor?

Are there no prisons? Are there no work houses? Just kidding! Unlike liberal hypocrites who believe in confiscatory "giving" through governmental redistribution - yet who give little or no personal charitable contributions themselves - I do throw alms into the collection plate at church each week. I might add that, since the wife and I were both laid off this year, each dollar we give is coming out of my IRA (batteries, taxes and penalties not yet included).

Blog: What about your kids? Won't they be dissappointed tomorrow to find their stockings empty and the tree giftless?

Who said anything about there being no presents for the kids? I simply stated that I did not participate in any Christmas shopping this year. The lovely wife, however, cannot make this same boast. Of course, this has been mostly true every year. Mrs. DaBlade has always done the shopping - except in year's past, I would make the Christmas Eve dash for her gift.

This year, I looked into her beautiful green eyes, drinking in those pools of peace and tranquility, while she looked into my bloodshot orbs bordering madness nestled above my puffy dark eye bags, and we decided that we wouldn't be exchanging gifts this year due to our economic situation.

I have never enjoyed the Christmas season as much as I have this one.

Last one out please unplug the frayed, duct-taped extension cord

I've been back in Michigan since late October and I still get an occasional, "Hey, aren't you working in Minnesota or Wisconsin or somewhere?" When I tell them I am back permanently and they ask, "why?" - here is what I tell them.

Think of the "Remember when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor" scene from Animal House. You know the very end where Bluto says, "who's with me? Let's go! C'mon... AHHHH!" and runs out the door solo?


Yeah, that was me.

Speaking of population shifts - According to this AP story:
"(the 2010 census) found the nation's population growing more slowly than in past decades but still shifting to the South and West."

The big winner is Texas, which gets 4 new US House seats While Michigan gets it's very own map color.
Look at the bright side. A lost, red Mitten is easier to find in the snow than a light blue one. I am not exactly sure what I mean by this, but if you scratch your chin and contemplate this metafornalogy thingy's deeper meaning, I'm sure you will find it brilliant.

Hmmm... let's see if I have this straight. If more seats are in fact a good thing... and the number of seats are tied to the population... and the population growth in Texas is related to a "surge of Hispanic residents"... then Michigan just needs to figure out how to attract a surge of Canadians by the next census.

Maybe leave out a case of Red Cap Ale or fry up some back-bacon? That always seemed to attract a protracted visit from my mom's cousin Bill, eh? OK, so some things just aren't worth the price.

So why is Michigan the only state to have lost population (54,000 residents over the past decade), and is that necessarily a bad thing?
First, I'm not sure that I readily accept the premise that Michigan's population balloon is deflating. How accurate are these census numbers after all? It is tough enough for the government to gain the cooperation of law-abiding citizens in these counts (*snicker*) let alone getting an accurate count of your typical islamofacist terrorist or serial killer. They are usual ducking during the head count.

"'Blade, wouldn't this be true wherever they live?"

Sure, but are you presuming an even distribution of al qaeda operatives? I would contend there are more of them here because, hey - where better to blend in?

Then again, I'm seeing a bright side here. Fewer people means more vacant homes. The more vacant homes there are, the more opportunities for me to illegally draw electricity through my frayed, duct-taped extension cord hooked up to an outdoor outlet on the garage of the vacant house next door so that I may power up my life-saving Christmas lights... hypothetically.

DaBlade's WeakyLeaks Part II - for you home Improvement do-it-yourselfers

Whether you are a young man who is new to home improvement and having just purchased a starter home fixer-upper moneypit, or you are hypothetically a middle-aged man who's home improvement skills have atrophied over the last 10 years due to living in your dream new build that required no maintenance - but you have since lost that house after losing your job of 30+ years as a result of the implosion of the newspaper industry (again, as a hypothetical example) and you downsize to an older home that requires a little TLC, you have come to the right place.

When last we met to discuss home improvement projects,
I went over the installation of 4" aluminum ductwork (as well as the accompanying emergency first aid), and kitchen and bathroom caulking projects (as well as the unexpected caulking of your upper and lower torso).

The first topic on today's agenda is prioritizing your project list. For you married fellas, it is highly recommended that you first consult with your loving spouse as to what she would like accomplished first. In my case, my wife made clear she wanted the clothes dryer vented (check), the above range microwave and dishwasher installed, a garbage disposal hookup as well as the entire house painted - with a working timeline of all projects to be completed by the end of the first day we moved in a few weeks ago.

I am slightly behind schedule, but I can explain. Working with my wife's list, I immediately understood that I would need a working garage door opener for proper egress and ingress of materials for her more important projects. To accomplish this task, it is imperative that you follow my...

Step-by-step guideline for proper garage door opener installation.

Step 1: Complain to your father-in-law that "the f*(&ing garage door doesn't work.

Step 2: Have your father-in-law line up one of his bowling league buddies who just happens to be a retired professional garage door installer of 50 years and offers to do this job for free.

Step 3: Light a cigar and watch over this gentleman's shoulder as he expertly installs your gagrage door opener while he swaps grandchildren stories with your father-in-law.

NOTE: It is always imperative that you have the correct tools for any job. If you do not happen to have a father-in-law who bowls with a retired professional garage door installer, then I don't know what to tell you.

Next up, the garbage disposal installation. There are many makes and models of units, with varying guideliens. This being the case, I would simply refer you to the directions.

NOTE: If your directions come in English on the front few pages, and what I think is Spanish on the last few pages, FOLLOW THE SPANISH INSTRUCTIONS, especially if you have never studied it and can only count to "tres" because of Sesame Street. Why do I say this? Because men typically will not read the instructions anyways, but may feel over-confident when browsing the English section. My theory is that you are less apt to have as many leftover pieces when following the foreign language instructions because you will probably look at the diagrams that much more intently.

Oh well, what use could this rubber thingy possibly have?



Next comes the installation of the dishwasher.

Step 1: If you're on a tight budget because you're not yet quite 50 years old and are jobless and living off of what was supposed to be your retirement, simply pull that father-in-law out of your tool belt and have him find a $25 used dishwasher in the "Big Buck ads".
* a father-in-law tool is handier than a good set of adjustable rubber-grip channellocks.

Step 2: Quickly determine that the 15amp romex power cable that is split three ways before it makes it's way to the dishwasher cabinet is probably not sufficient, unless your goal is to continuosly throw the breaker and/or eventually burn down the house.

Step 3: Seek out a professional looking fellow wearing an apron and wandering around in the Electrical Department at your local Home Depot. Impress him with your knowledge by explaining the situation to him in technical terms, detailing that you are sure you need to drop a dedicated "16 amp or 16 and-a-half amp wire thingy from the fuse box, whatever it takes".

Once again, it is imperative that you follow my...

Step-by-step guideline for installing a new breaker and a 20 amp 12/2 cable.

Step 4A: Quickly determine that years of pushing a pencil is not proper training for even removing the console bolts from the breaker box, let alone installing a new breaker and romex cable, and that professional help is needed once again.

Step 4B: Complain to your older brother who is an attorney that you have to get into the breaker box, and you are sure you will f*(&ing electrocute yourself.

Step 4C: Have your brother send over a professional electrician who owes your brother money for legal work to drop said line.

NOTE: If you do not happen to have a brother who is an attorney and has an electrician who owes him money, then I don't know what to tell you. Again, the proper tool thingy people!

Step 5: Have the father-in-law complete the water and electric hookup and you are good to go.

There. Today's tutorial gave you very explicit instructions on the installation of dishwashers, garbage disposals and garage doors. Now go take on those projects with confidence!

My Message to Obama: "I wish I knew how to quit you"

I am not a big proponent of heterosexuals openly serving in the military.

Hey DaBlade, don't you mean that you are not a proponent of homosexuals in the military?

Them either...

The purpose of the military is to kill our nation's enemies and to blow sh*& up, and I just feel that this activity is "asexual" in nature. I would think that any public displays of affection between a man and a woman gets in the way of this mission.

That said, I recognize that "war is hell", and our ladies and gentlemen serving us honorably occasionally need a little "R&R". "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", right? I just think that "Hotlips and Frank" should take "it" to the supply closet. If they don't tell, I sure the hell ain't askin'.

I would also be in favor of this same policy to be in place with respect to homosexuals in the military. I don't really care if Hawkeye has a willing Radar bent over in the latrene, I just don't see the need for this "serving openly" caveat. What does that mean anyways? I guess I just don't understand how putting up chiffon and lace curtains in the barracks will help in our war efforts.

This repeal of DADT, with amnesty for illegal future democrat voters next up - illustrates the priorities of Obama, Reid, Pelosi and company. With the economy in tatters and joblessness and hopelessness on the rise, they choose to spend their time on this crap.

The lame duck dems continue to ignore the message in November elections by perpetrating mass policy rape against us by jamming through - or attempting to jam through - all of their twisted "holiday tree" ornaments.

Santa's junk searched at the border

Remember when this was just a spoof?

powered by Splicd.com

Flint homicide count at 62. A new record, beating the total of 61 murders set in 1986 and justifying it's "lofty" 4th position on the 2010 list of Most Dangerous Cities, per the CQ Press.

How sad, but so utterly predictable. This is a direct result of the incremental rot that is liberalism and your democrat party at work. Their systematic and purposeful destruction of the American family for the purpose of supplanting it has led to this hopelessness and chaos in the streets. The "Progressive" movement has been most destructive to the African-American population, as evidenced by this murder rate. Rare is the occasion here where a child is born into a family consisting of a mother and father who are actually married, and who all regularly attend weekly church service to give thanks to God.

Michelle Obama: Oh come now DaBlade! ‘We Can’t Just Leave It Up To The Parents’

Hillary Clinton: Yah! It takes a village!

Flint, Michigan - The birthplace of General Motors, the UAW and yours truly. Thankfully, I was born into a family consisting of a married mother and father and we went to church. It used to be the norm, not the exception around these parts. Let me ask you a serious question... When is the last time the mother of a "New Year's Baby" in Flint even knew who the father was? Oh well, does the "winner" still get a $50 savings bond? Can't get much crack for that.

PICTURED: My dad arresting my brother Donnie for not cleaning his room, or something.


My father was a police officer, then a homicide detective for the City of Flint during my formative years in the 60s and 70s. Back then, the annual murder tallies probably averaged between 40 and 50 something - back when the city had almost double the population. I remember my dad saying he was thankful he never had to shoot anyone, though he had numerous dangerous close calls. He was never shot either, though once when he was working a second job as a late night under-cover detective at a JC Penny, he was stabbed in the hand by a woman attempting to shoplift an expensive winter coat.

I can't recall all of my father's exciting cop stories, but I cherish the one's I do. I remember waking up in my bunk bed to a ringing phone in the middle of the night and my dad pulling out of the driveway a short time later, as he headed to the freshest murder scene. I remember the department issued 38 caliber revolver sticking out of it's holster under my dad's sports jacket when he got home from work. I remember that he loved the "Dirty Harry" movies and TV's Columbo, but despised Cagney and Lacey.

PICTURED: Thats me in the front between my mom and my sister. My dad took this picture of us at Bishop airport, right before he hopped a plane to somewhere for a prisoner escort.


I remember crying on the way home after watching the plane disappear into the clouds and me thinking I would never see him again. He died shortly after my baby brother Donnie was killed by a drunk driver in 1988. My mother is with them, having died just a few years ago. I think of them often and remember fondly the Christmases of long, long ago.

Two Drudge-linked stories I found interesting accompanied by totally unrelated and randomly selected videos

STORY #1The real-life Da Vinci Code:

Historians discover tiny numbers and letters in the eyes of the Mona Lisa. Hidden in the dark paint of her pupils are tiny... numbers, placed there by the artist Leonardo da Vinci and revealed only now thanks to high-­magnification techniques. The revelation could have come straight from the pages of Dan Brown’s best-seller The Da Vinci Code, in which the Mona Lisa is said to contain hidden clues about the Holy Grail.

What do these seemingly random numbers mean?




STORY #2
A 72-year-old Romanian woman who had a daughter when she was 66 is planning to have a second child.

Is that a good idea?

Lions "victory" under review

The Midwest winter storm was just a cool shower compared to the cold shoulder the Detroit Lions gave to the visiting Packers. Lion's third string quarterback, Drew Stanton, lit up the scoreboard with several (seven) points to the Pack's three to end a 19-game losing streak against division opponents. Oh, and there will be a Monday Night Football game played at Ford Field!

Yes, I am aware that it's between the Minnesota Vikings and New York Giants, a game which was moved to Detroit because of the Metrodome collapse, but still... MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL IN DETROIT! Hell hath finally frozen solid baby!

Wait. I know better than this. I've watched the Lions snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory too many times to count.

There might yet be a late flag. The league may put this game under review for no other reason than a Lions victory is suspicious. Something is bound to happen here to give the Pack the win. It may be determined that the Lions did not complete the victory through the entire process (whatever that means).

Wait for it...

High School Hockey Tournament Weekend

Looking forward to some Top-flight hockey on tap at Division 3 Challenge this weekend in Gaylord, Michigan. Good luck boys! Go Flint Powers!


This is a big reason I came back. Blogging temporarily interrupted for my weekend festivities...