Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com


Home of Jenny the Pirate



This will go better if you

check your expectations at the door.


We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.


 Nice is different than good.


Oh and ...

I flunked charm school.

So what.

Can't write anything.

= Jennifer =

Causing considerable consternation
to many fine folk since 1957

Pepper and me ... Seattle 1962



Belay That!

This blog does not contain and its author will not condone profanity, crude language, or verbal abuse. Commenters, you are welcome to speak your mind but do not cuss or I will delete either the word or your entire comment, depending on my mood. Continued use of bad words or inappropriate sentiments will result in the offending individual being banned, after which they'll be obliged to walk the plank. Thankee for your understanding and compliance.

= Jenny the Pirate =

Hoist The Colors



Insist on yourself; never imitate.

Your own gift you can present

every moment

with the cumulative force

of a whole life’s cultivation;

but of the adopted talent of another

you have only an extemporaneous

half possession.

That which each can do best,

none but his Maker can teach him.

= Ralph Waldo Emerson =



The Black Velvet Coat

In The Market, As It Were






Columbia Cemetery

To read my articles, click HERE! And don't forget to subscribe.


Contributor to

American Cemetery

published by Kates-Boylston

A Pistol With One Shot

Ecstatically shooting everything in sight using my beloved Nikon D3100 with AF-S DX Nikkor 18-55mm 1:3.5-5.6G VR kit lens and AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 G prime lens.

Also capturing outrageous beauty left and right with my Nikon D7000 blissfully married to my Nikkor 85mm f/1.4D AF prime glass. Don't be jeal.

And then there was the Nikon AF-S DX NIKKOR 18-200mm f:3.5-5.6G ED VR II zoom. We're done here.

Dying Is A Day Worth Living For

I am a taphophile

Word. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Great things are happening at

Find A Grave

If you don't believe me, click the pics.


Dying is a wild night

and a new road.

Emily Dickinson



When I am gone

Please remember me

 As a heartfelt laugh,

 As a tenderness.

 Hold fast to the image of me

When my soul was on fire,

The light of love shining

Through my eyes.

Remember me when I was singing

And seemed to know my way.

Remember always

When we were together

And time stood still.

Remember most not what I did,

Or who I was;

Oh please remember me

For what I always desired to be:

A smile on the face of God.

David Robert Brooks



 Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.


Keep To The Code








You Want To Find This
The Promise Of Redemption

Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not;

But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God.

But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost:

In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.

For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.

For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;

Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.

For we which live are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.

So then death worketh in us, but life in you.

We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I BELIEVED, AND THEREFORE HAVE I SPOKEN; we also believe, and therefore speak;

Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you.

For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many redound to the glory of God.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

II Corinthians 4

Freedom is a fragile thing and is never more than one generation away from extinction. It is not ours by inheritance; it must be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. Those who have known freedom and then lost it, have never known it again.

~ Ronald Reagan

Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Not Without My Effects

My Compass Works Fine

The Courage Of Our Hearts




Daft Like Jack

 "I can name fingers and point names ..."

And We'll Sing It All The Time
  • Elements Series: Fire
    Elements Series: Fire
    by Peter Kater
  • Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    by Danny Wright
  • Grace
    Old World Records
  • The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    Stone Angel Music, Inc.
  • Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Real Music
  • Copia
    Temporary Residence Ltd.
  • The Poet: Romances for Cello
    The Poet: Romances for Cello
    Spring Hill Music
  • Nightfall
    Narada Productions, Inc.
  • Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
  • The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    by William Voegeli
  • The Art of Memoir
    The Art of Memoir
    by Mary Karr
  • The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    by Emily Dickinson
  • Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    by John W. Harper
  • On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    by William Zinsser
  • Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    by Steven Milloy
  • The Amateur
    The Amateur
    by Edward Klein
  • Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    by Matt Barber, Paul Hair
  • In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    by Dr. Laura Schlessinger
  • Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    by Tod Benoit
  • Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    by Candace Savage
  • Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    by John Marzluff Ph.D., Tony Angell
  • Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    by Andrew Breitbart
  • 11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    by Paul Kengor
  • Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    by Bernd Heinrich
  • Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    by Matthew Rolston
  • Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    by Todd Harra, Ken McKenzie
  • America's Steadfast Dream
    America's Steadfast Dream
    by E. Merrill Root
  • Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    by Alexandra Day
  • Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    by Lynne Truss
  • The American Way of Death Revisited
    The American Way of Death Revisited
    by Jessica Mitford
  • In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    Master Books
  • Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    by Peter Schweizer
  • Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    by Brannon Howse
  • Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    by Eleanor Alexander
Easy On The Goods
  • Waiting for
    Waiting for "Superman"
    starring Geoffrey Canada, Michelle Rhee
  • The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    starring Bette Davis, Ernest Borgnine, Debbie Reynolds, Barry Fitzgerald, Rod Taylor
  • Bernie
    starring Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey
  • Remember the Night
    Remember the Night
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Beulah Bondi, Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway
  • The Ox-Bow Incident
    The Ox-Bow Incident
    starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe
  • The Bad Seed
    The Bad Seed
    starring Nancy Kelly, Patty McCormack, Henry Jones, Eileen Heckart, Evelyn Varden
  • Shadow of a Doubt
    Shadow of a Doubt
    starring Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers
  • The More The Merrier
    The More The Merrier
    starring Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, Charles Coburn, Bruce Bennett, Ann Savage
  • Act of Valor
    Act of Valor
    starring Alex Veadov, Roselyn Sanchez, Nestor Serrano
  • Deep Water
    Deep Water
    starring Tilda Swinton, Donald Crowhurst, Jean Badin, Clare Crowhurst, Simon Crowhurst
  • Sunset Boulevard
    Sunset Boulevard
    starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich Von Stroheim, Nancy Olson, Fred Clark
  • Penny Serenade
    Penny Serenade
    starring Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Edgar Buchanan, Beulah Bondi
  • Double Indemnity
    Double Indemnity
    starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Porter Hall, Jean Heather
  • Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    starring Gary Anthony Williams
  • Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Passion River
  • It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    starring Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert
  • Stella Dallas
    Stella Dallas
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, John Boles, Anne Shirley, Barbara O'Neil, Alan Hale
  • The Iron Lady
    The Iron Lady
    starring Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Harry Lloyd, Anthony Head, Alexandra Roach
  • Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    starring Peter Sallis, Anne Reid, Sally Lindsay, Melissa Collier, Sarah Laborde
  • The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    starring Red Balloon
  • Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    starring William Holden, Don Taylor, Otto Preminger, Robert Strauss, Harvey Lembeck
  • The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    starring Ginger Rogers, Ray Milland
  • My Dog Skip
    My Dog Skip
    starring Frankie Muniz, Diane Lane, Luke Wilson, Kevin Bacon
  • Sabrina
    starring Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, William Holden, Walter Hampden, John Williams
  • The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple, Rudy Vallee, Ray Collins
  • Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    starring Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley, Jack Davenport
  • Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    starring Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Gladys Cooper, John Loder
  • The Trip To Bountiful
    The Trip To Bountiful
  • Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
    Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
That Dog Is Never Going To Move



Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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One Word, Luv: Curiosity


Make America Great Again

Years ago I acquired a book entitled The Lüscher Color Test.

Within the book are eight small oblongs of cardboard, each a different color.

What you do is, you line up the pieces of variously-colored cardboard and you look at them. Then you begin choosing the colors in the order in which they appeal to you.

You can't spend too much time fretting about the actual shades of the colors. They're not what you might expect. No matter; they are what they are.

The idea is to simply and honestly choose the eight colors and line them up in the order in which you like them, from best to least. Someone (maybe even you) makes careful notes of your selections (the cards are numbered on the back).

Then you do it a second time, without attempting to consciously make the identical selections you made the first time. Again, notes are made of your picks in correct order.

At the end of all this, either you or a friend can consult the part of the book that is designed to explain what your selections mean.

Because yes; they mean something. Turns out (if you buy into the whole thing, and I do), they mean a lot. It's actually an intensely revealing psychological test, not just a parlor game.

That's all I'll tell you about the Lüscher Color Test. If you want to know more, buy the book and have fun.

The reason I'm conveying all of this to you today is this:

The test's author, Dr. Max Lüscher, insists that the colors you reject are every bit as important as those you accept.

In other words, just as much can be read into the color(s) you pick last, as the one(s) you pick first.

Here's the takeaway.

On election day I rejected a candidate to exactly the same degree that I selected one. In fact, I would have voted for just about anyone rather than cast a vote for Hillary Clinton.

I would've let my hand wither and drop from my arm before doing that.

But that doesn't mean I was firmly aboard the Trump Train at that time. I had my reservations -- as in, some nagging doubts that this unpredictable, unscripted man was the best choice to be the forty-fifth President of the United States.

But no one else presented themselves as a better choice, and I was adamantly, vehemently #NeverHillary.

Besides, there's something appealing about a politically-incorrect loose cannon. To me, anyway.

And it's not as though anyone expected him to win.

During the tumultuous election cycle, my TG (a Cruz man until that dream went by the wayside) made a wise observation:

Let's say you have a dozen eggs. Six are rotten and six are cracked. You can do nothing with rotten eggs, but you can do any number of positive things with cracked eggs.

Cakes and omelets come to mind.

Mr. Trump may be slightly cracked, but Hillary Clinton is rotten. It's practically her middle name. She's all the rotten eggs. There's not one thing you can do except throw her out.

I've grown to love Donald Trump. It happened before the election; I was so thrilled on election night, I could not sleep. I could not stop rejoicing and no, it wasn't only because it wouldn't be Hillary. It was because it would be Mr. Trump.

My doubts were gone, and for all his faults, they remain a thing of the past.

Looking back, I believe the turning point for me began with listening, riveted, to Mr. Trump's seventy-five-minute speech at the Republican National Convention in July, during which he graciously accepted his party's nomination.

Here is one minute of it:

When he said I am your voice, I felt both elated and grateful. Finally. Finally I may have a President who speaks for me. It had been a long, long time since I felt that way.

My elation has sustained itself and it has grown. Today I will be watching every moment of the inauguration. Tonight, we are having a party with family and friends, to celebrate.

I'll wear my Trump tshirt and my two commemorative buttons.

All day (and every day) I will be praying for Mr. Trump, for his safety, for those who work so hard to ensure he is kept safe, and for his family.

Most of all, I will pray for America, that the destruction of the past eight years may by God's grace be reversed, and that our beloved country will truly be made great again.

As President Trump says: Greater than she has ever been before.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Inauguration :: God Bless America


New year. New day. New dog.

Meet Rizzo the Chiweenie.

I'll tell you all about how he came to be ours, next week.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend


With this I leave you

No; I'm not discontinuing my blog.

You should be so fortunate. Relax. I've lots more to say.

I just mean, this is it for Twenty Sixteen.

Also it's about leaves.

As in, a week or so ago, on a chilly rainy morning in which I had very little to do and all day in which to accomplish it, I was sitting in my quiet house.

I was reading. And enjoying the quiet, and the softly twinkling tree, and it being Christmas.

Let's pull over and park here for a mo.

Among my favorite things (year round) is this simple concept: Silence.

When I'm alone, that is. When folks are around, I more or less enjoy the noise they generate.

Not always, but most of the time.

But when I'm home alone, unless I'm listening to music or watching something, I love the quiet.

So it was that I became vexed when, without warning, the morning rainy quiet was pierced by the loud, insistent whine of some sort of lawn equipment. Outside.

Like, a leaf blower. That's what came to mind, once you got over the feeling that a giant insect had happened into the area.

I couldn't see anything; I was downstairs, in the back of the house. I could only hear it.

But our neighborhood is large, with large-ish yards, and there are trillions of leaves.

So the sound of leaf-blowing is anything but unusual, except, it was raining.

Normally one does not do yard work of any kind in the rain.

And so I was annoyed.

But I managed to settle down and after an hour or so, I barely noticed the loud whine of the leaf-blowing (or whatever it was) apparatus disturbing the peace out of doors.

I didn't even go to the window or door, to look, to figure out which neighbor to be mad at.

Until at one point around noon, I did go to the door. I opened it.

And guess where the leaf blowing was taking place? You guessed it: In my yard.

Now, we have an extra-large front yard and it is dominated by a massive White Oak. There are lots of leaves. Lots and lots and lots of leaves.

TG and Andrew and Joel had worked on leaf removal (phase one) at Thanksgiving. When they were finished, the lawn was fairly pristine and leafless. Leaves had been blown from the roof and out of the gutters.

And sixty percent of the leaves were still on the tree.

So then later, a few weeks ago, TG did phase two. By himself.

When he was finished, the roof, the porch, our many steps, the driveway, the front walk, and roughly one-sixteenth of the yard was visible. The rest was still nothing but leaves.

Many of the leaves had been blown and pushed into a long wide pile just beyond the front walk. Past the long wide pile was a single layer of leaves still covering ninety percent of the remainder of the lawn.

Then TG had to leave it because he was too tired to do the rest.

And now my eyes beheld total strangers struggling to load a tarp full of wet leaves from my yard, into a work truck near the road.

Another truck -- a pickup -- sat in my driveway. A person unknown to me was blowing leaves in the side yard.

I quickly closed the door. They were at the wrong house! A leaf-removal crew was removing leaves from the wrong yard! And they'd expect me to pay them when they were finished!

A deciduous sort of panic ensued since I knew I hadn't been the one to arrange for leaf removal, and no way had TG -- a do-it-himselfer from way back -- done that. It's a rare-if-ever occurrence for him to part with cash in exchange for yard work.

So I called TG and said Babe! There are people working in our yard, taking our leaves!

And TG said, I know. That's Arthur. I asked him to do it but he said they were coming tomorrow, after the rain. Anyway you need to pay him a hundred fifty bucks when they're done.


I wanted to say, Who are you and what have you done with my husband? But I didn't. I said, Okay bye, and trotted off to get the checkbook.

Some time later, Arthur -- a kind, courteous, youngish black man -- rang the doorbell. He laughed when I told him I had a scare upon realizing people were in our yard, removing what I thought were the wrong leaves.

So I called my husband, and he said you were scheduled to come tomorrow, when the rain was over, I said.

Arthur shrugged as though he and his crew preferred soggy leaves to dry ones. Actually, it's easier to get them into the tarps when they're wet, he said. They don't blow all around.

Makes sense to me. Arthur and I wished one another a Merry Christmas, and he drove away with our leaves. And our money.

Later TG admitted he just couldn't face round three with the leaves. I said I didn't blame him. At least now, the White Oak's branches are bare.

Except, today was an exceptionally windy day and our yard is once again covered with leaves. Many neighbors contributed said leaves from their very own yards.

Something tells me these leaves will lie there all winter and be ground to powder with the Cub Cadet the first time TG mows the lawn in the spring.

You'll find me inside the whole time. Enjoying the silence. I hope it rains.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy New Year


The angel atop my tree


Merry Christmas

The hap-happiest season of all


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Merry Christmas, Darlings


Cards in each mailbox,
angel, manger, star and lamb,
as the rural carrier,
driving the snowy roads,
hears from her bundles


the plaintive bleating of sheep,
the shuffle of sandals,
the clopping of camels.
At stop after stop,
she opens the little tin door


and places deep in the shadows
the shepherds and wise men,
the donkeys lank and weary,
the cow who chews and muses.
And from her Styrofoam cup,


white as a star and perched
on the dashboard, leading her
ever into the distance,
there is a hint of hazelnut,
and then a touch of myrrh.

= Ted Kooser =


Happy Tuesday :: Happy Christmas Week

Matchy Matchy and Greenies

Just because it's Christmas.

Also because dogs are everything.


Happy Thursday


He's the A in C-A-R-E

Photo by Dustin HusarikYou know already that our son, Andrew, moved to Columbia during the summer.

In mid-August he started his new job with a major financial institution. The first order of business was to study like his life depended on it (because it sort of did) for the Series Seven exam.

It's a hard test. You probably don't even want to know how hard. Andrew said it's the hardest thing he has ever done -- and this is a young man who stretches out on his stomach in the boom pod of a KC-135 Stratotanker and refuels fighter jets while in flight.

He passed the Series Seven exam on the first try. Then he had exactly nineteen days to study for the Series Sixty-Six -- a test many say is even more difficult than the Series Seven. The rest of Andrew's "class" of fledgling financial advisors had several more days to study, but Andrew had to report for military duty.

He passed the Series Sixty-Six on the first try. Next (and last) was a test related to the insurance industry. He passed that too. Then he was off to St. Louis for one of two separate weeks of training. 

He came home and closed on his new house; he'd been renting it from the owner leading up to the closing. Then it was back to St. Louis as a homeowner, for a second and final week of training.

This past Monday, Andrew went "live" as a fully licensed Financial Advisor and officially joined the experienced business partner who recruited and mentored him, in beginning to service accounts.

All this and he still serves in the Tennessee Air National Guard, requiring him to report for duty in Knoxville at least one weekend per month.

We're proud of him and so glad he's here.

Last week while he was in St. Louis, Erica and I decided to decorate Andrew's house for Christmas. He had nothing so I went to Hobby Lobby and Walmart. I bought a small tree, some lights, a red velvet bow, two stockings, and a door wreath with reindeer hanger.

It was dark and cold when we got to Andrew's last Friday night. He'd be home the next evening. Erica carried stuff inside while I made spaghetti; I'd been shopping all day and she'd been tutoring for hours. We were hungry.

When we left, everything was sparkling with multicolored lights and the stockings (hung on Rambo's crate) were stuffed with treats. We left the front porch light on so that Andrew would notice his wreath (he enters the house through the garage).

Our hero returned home after dark on Saturday after having driven the day before from St. Louis to Knoxville so that he could pick up Rambo, who had stayed with a family that adores him. He came straight to our house because TG had called and asked for his help with a small project.

I fed him a fried-egg sandwich (his favorite) and when he'd gotten his dad squared away, the boy went home to unpack and rest his bones before church on Sunday. He'd have to hit the floor running on Monday.

He texted Erica and me when he saw his Christmasy house and perceived that certain elfin activity had taken place. He loved it and was appropriately grateful. I think it touched his heart.

Touching his heart was something I wanted to do, especially since a liberal snowflake had carved a swastika into the driver's side door of Andrew's F150 while he was at dinner in St. Louis on the previous Thursday evening.

They'd also tried to deface the political sticker prominently placed in the back window.

So let me unpack this for you.

A young man of twenty-seven who has already served a decade in the United States Air Force -- and graduated from college while serving -- and who has never been arrested, never been on welfare, doesn't drink, doesn't carouse, sings in the church choir, works hard and likes to go fishing and hiking on his days off, who is respectful and considerate of his parents and his sisters, who loves his dog as though Rambo were a child -- this young man was targeted and bullied, labeled at the very least a white supremacist racist bigot and at worst an actual Nazi -- by someone who doesn't like the way a presidential election turned out.

I'm not contending that my son is perfect; he's not. Far from it. He's a flawed person just like you and just like me. But for all his faults he is a God-fearing patriotic American who serves his country and who contributes to society rather than taking from it. He's a gentleman and -- as it turns out -- a bit of a scholar. He has goals and a strong healthy work ethic and a mortgage.

You know: a hard-working, law-abiding taxpayer. The kind of person that, according to liberals, you need to fear.

In early October, TG and I posted two beautiful Trump signs in our yard. They weren't free; we had to pay for them. We were glad to do it. Only, about a week after we put them out, the signs were stolen.

We replaced them. The second two made it through to election night.

So the takeaway is, according to liberal Social Justice Warriors who have their knickers in a twist because Hillary Clinton lost the election -- lost it fair and square -- it's okay to preach tolerance and love and kumbayah to the rest of us while stealing people's personal property and calling them vile names and vandalizing their automobiles to the tune of many hundreds of dollars. Or at least, advocating such behavior by not speaking out against it.

That's acceptable, to a liberal. Because Trump.

And then there are the ones who claim they don't feel "safe" now. You know what? We were in more danger for the last eight years than we could ever be in the next eight. Far more. Only history will tell the depth and breadth of the peril our country was placed in due to the liberal ideologies of Barack Obama and his ilk having free rein.

And so I say again -- again, because I've said it before -- I thank God every day of my life that I am a conservative. I would rather die than be a liberal.

Yes. That's what I said. If someone who had the power to do so, told me I was going to die tomorrow, but offered me another twenty-five years of life and promised that throughout that time I'd be free of illness, have no financial reversals, suffer no tragic events -- but for the duration of that quarter-century I'd have to be a liberal, I would choose to die tomorrow.

Why? Because liberalism tends to death. Liberalism mocks God. Conservatism, based as it is on Biblical principles, tends to life. Before you get mad, remember: I don't make the rules.

If you don't agree with me -- if you were scared on election night, or have experienced anxiety in the days since, because Donald Trump won -- please know that the last thing in the world I would ever do is hurt you, or key your car, or call you ugly names, or steal something out of your yard.

You have nothing to fear from conservatives, or from capitalism. What you need to fear is liberals. Not least because every time they speak and with everything they do, they are lying to you.

The vote of someone who disagreed with you was not a hate crime.

That's rubbish. Complete and utterly false hate-filled asinine imbecilic liberal claptrap. Nonsense. Rubbish.

I am thankful that my son's life wasn't directly threatened by the leftist bully who vandalized his truck. It could have been worse; we all know that's true.

And I am grateful that, instead of Barack Obama II in the form of Hillary Clinton, we have been granted a reprieve in the form of another imperfect -- some may say woefully so, but I wouldn't be one of them -- but sincere man who I believe truly will give his heart and best efforts in a bid to Make America Great Again.

I wish him every success. I look forward to his leadership.

And that is all for now.


Merry Christmas :: God Bless America