Stand and deliver
You let them put the fear on you
Stand and deliver
But not a word you heard was true
But if there’s nothing you can say
There may be nothing you can do
Do you wanna be a free man
Or do you wanna be a slave?
Do you wanna be a free man
Or do you wanna be a slave?
Do you wanna wear these chains
Until you’re lying in the grave?
I don’t wanna be a pauper
And I don’t wanna be a prince
I don’t wanna be a pauper
And I don’t wanna be a prince
I just wanna do my job
Playing the blues for friends
Magna Carta, Bill of Rights
The constitution, what’s it worth?
You know they’re gonna grind us down, ah
Until it really hurts
Is this a sovereign nation
Or just a police state?
You better look out, people
Before it gets too late
You wanna be your own driver
Or keep on flogging a dead horse?
You wanna be your own driver
Or keep on flogging a dead horse?
Do you wanna make it better
Or do you wanna make it worse?
Stand and deliver
You let them put the fear on you
Slow down the river
But not a word of it was true
If there’s nothing you can say
There may be nothing you can do
Stand and deliver
Stand and deliver
Dick Turpin wore a mask too
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Good for Clapton. I understand he’s canceling concerts that discriminate against the unvaxxed. Wunderbar! Used to be a defining characteristic of my age cohort that we challenged authority, and called bullshit on lies and propaganda. Just shows how cowed people have become today and how they’ve embraced their learned helplessness. Listen to the “experts”, they know what’s best.
I’m watching Van, The Man, Morrison, and Eric Clapton, stand up and deliver the goods. While 99.99% of cultural figures have horsehit for brains, and jelly for spines, these elite musicians tell it like it is. The fukn thing has been a farce, and if you think that the Statists are actually going to let up on us, guess again, Kafka.
Of course, if a Country Music singer sings a rebel anthem, or a protest song, it is not a surprise.
Get some! Give them hell! My much-maligned, by Seattleites, father’s home town (Forks, WA) had a couple of VW vans full of hippies drive through to camp on the beach. This was when it was rumored, on the internet (at only a conspiratorial level) that Antifa were seeking suburban and beyond targets. If you’ll recall, shit went down, and the park rangers and sheriffs had to rescue the Antifar because they found that the road to their beach camp was abiteed by trees, cut down and crossed. That same week, citizens on the rural Hi9 towns, in WA, had spontaneous tailgate parties on main street, toting their ARs and Glocks.
Think inductively, mate. Horde that fukn toilet paper if you so desire. Remember, the definition of a rural American is: good at hoarding. And, the definition of a country resident is: great at hoarding.
Forks, WA is it Casey? Do you remember my little stop-over in that fine town?
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The Olympic Peninsula at the Vernal Equinox [2014]
I only managed to make the town of Forks in time to participate in the town’s annual scholarship auction. You had no choice but to participate since every sound system in every store and restaurant was tuned to the broadcast of the auction and turned up loud. I took shelter by going to the auction itself.
It was one of those small-town events that puts your faith in the essential goodness of people back into your soul. Everyone in this town of some 1,300 souls had evidently donated something (From a $1600 Alaskan Fishing Trip to a plate of 6 brownies baked by the Brownies — $22 and delicious). And everyone in the town was buying something. Furniture, art, baked goods, embroidered guest towels, exercise equipment… a hodgepodge of a town-wide garage sale. The purpose? A fund to send some kids from Forks to college. And in Forks getting to college was very, very important because it meant those kids that made it had a chance to get out of Forks.
Not that it is a bad town. Not at all. It is just that it is a dying town. The curtailing of logging and fishing in the Olympic Peninsula may have gone over well in Seattle where people are concerned that they won’t have any natural, unspoiled environments in which to ride their horses and mossy woods to hike about in. In Seattle, the only thing more popular for a politician to say than “It’s for the children” is “It’s for the environment.” Some of the brighter politicians have taken to working in the phrase, “It’s for the children’s environment!” This always plays to rousing ovations and cheers, especially from the childless.
Things are not so happy in Forks which has had to deal with the loss of thousands of jobs as a result of various “popular” [in the cities] measures. Forks, by any measure, is struggling to keep its head above water. You can feel it in the forced cheer and the determined pride shown at this one small auction where, against all odds, they have managed to raise more than $50,000 for the Forks Escape Fund.
One of my local correspondents, much more knowledgeable about the shameful political history that killed Forks related this small tale that pretty much sums up the relationship of city and town in Washington state:
Our US Senators, Patty Murray (D) who we rightfully detest and Slade Gorton (Republican and now defeated by Maria Cantwell) were on opposite sides of a timber debate on the floor of the senate. Listening to the floor action on the squawk box, we heard Patty nattering about how she was totally in tune with the people of Washington on timber issues, why in fact the lumbermen of Forks were some of her best sources of information and strongest supporters, The staffer turned to me and said “Seattle liberal greenies may love Patty, but not the good folks in Forks. She’s cost hundreds, maybe thousands of timber people their jobs. If you handcuffed her to the stop sign in the middle of Forks at 3 AM, come morning she’d be gone and they would never be able to find her body.”
Seems those who support Antifa BLM, others have learned a valuable lessons appearing in small conservative communities. Does my heart good to see and read about these straight up communists arrive in towns awaiting a glorious welcoming,,,,,, only to have the fear of god put in em, by 100s or event thousands of locals heavily armed surrounding em, with everything from a pee shooter to an elephant killer.
The Iconic M4 and it’s variants are anymore common as dads deer rifle or his bird hunting shotgun, it’s just apart of the tools.
Believe they, their master recognize just how venerable their communist shit show are in far out communities.
Seemingly common anymore in these tiny towns cities to hear locals advising “ Them” of the three S’s. Round here the mountains go on forever. Good for the locals, way bad for the communists.
My most recent bestest friend was born raised in Forks Wa. God came and took him early!
VI
Yes! I fully recall that article, Gerard! Thank you for a good article, and not some whoreshit Seattle TP kind of article. You definitely want to have Forks as a friend. The opposite is rather a bad choice to make. These are men whose daily diet is North of 5,000 calories (one intrepid UW article states 8,000, but everything they seem to say at the UW these days is horse pucky) per day because: logging. Just as a measure of stout, you may palpate a logger’s arms and find them more akin to a rock monolith than to flesh. I’m serious there.
My last name is also coin there, as my grandpappy pioneered on the peninsula before the roads and railroads. Consider The Iron Man of the Hoh, whose legendary tale includes backpacking across the interior of the rugged Olympic Mountains, with a cast iron kitchen stove on his back. He said it wasn’t too bad, except for the 100 lbs. of flour inside the oven. Now I, alone, know the reason why he did it. It was for love. You see, Old Lady IronMan, whom my dad knew personally, was 300 lbs. dry weight! She needed that oven!
I hope that I’ve established the fact that one does not FUCK with people from Forks. If you’re a hippy, you are welcome in Forks. No kidding; in the America of old times, a free spirited individual with a rebel attitude is not a problem. If, however, you go to Forks with a sticker of a Spotted Owl, or the Sierra Club, or EarfFirst, or Antifa… oh, fuuuhhhhk. Ohhh fuhk. That is very stupid.
Ok, all that say that there is an America, hidden in tiny enclaves, throughout the West (mostly) where none of the shit going on in DC is allowed, and I mean it pre-emptively ain’t allowed. Just ask the kids whose Forks beach camping trip was fine until they tried to drive out the next morning.
BTW, those people are Roosevelt Democrats. Politics ain’t that big a thing. Character is.
Dirk, send me his name. Sorry for your loss.
Logging. I was hoping for a second term of Trump, because the natural resources of America are waiting to be harvested. It is money sitting around on the ground to be gotten, and America could use it, now.
My friend was Eldon Matt Waldron, a logging family, believe his father and brother are in Port Angeles.
Matt’s son Forest is still here, driving Matt’s logging truck, his widow is here as well, recently remarried.
Kinda a weird Memory,,, but Matt’s best friend from childhood, another logger a faller as I recall. Anyway Tommies son went to school one morning in Forks, pulled out a gun and killed himself in front of his school mates.
I cried for weeks, only met the young man a time or two, wonderful you man, I could sense hurt in his eyes, a quiet young half Native American lad,,,,,,,his smile was infectious. No parent should EVER have to bury their child!
I last saw Tommie, his wife and the younger son at the wake for Matt.
Days after the services, I went to. Matt’s grave to sit and talk to him, Tommies wife was their. We cried, we laughed, we became friends. She was native, it’s odd, I saw the same hurt in her eyes, as I did in her deceased sons eyes.
Can’t explain it, but since childhood I’ve had premonitions, very very accurate premonitions. Hell we all have em, it’s just that some of us, have refined that lost understanding of life. I’ve literally lived by mine. In my law enforcement if my did said duck, I didn’t question just responded instantly
The day Matt died, I had a premonition. I called my son insisted he come to our home. “ I knew he and Matt “ were pulling the front wheels from under a semi tractor that day.
I was hit hard with a vision, I told my son of what I saw, and begged him to not get under the truck or to let Matt under the truck, someone was going to die today. My son told me I was crazy.
Three hours later my son” Bryson” called me screaming for me to get to Matt’s right now, Dad Matt’s dead, crushed under the truck. I was pissed, telling Bryson what a cruel joke to play on me. No dad Matt’s dead,,,,,,, and I need you here right now!
I had my hip replaced the day before.
As I was pulling in my EMS firefighter friends and brother cops were pulling out. All looked at me knowing I was fucking freaked out, as if on que, they all shook their heads inferring that my friend didn’t make it.
My son had told the fire dept Chaplin of my premonition that someone was going to die. The chaplain and me were old friends. I found my son, and hugged him so tight I almost crushed him, I couldn’t let go, and I cried, I don’t remember a time I was so scared, not for me, but for him.
I sent Bryson home,I sat with Matt’s body for roughly and hour while the funeral home was on the way.
10degrees, I in shorts and a lite shirt, I sat and talked to,Matt for that time. I didn’t know how to explain his death to his wife or his son. After maybe thousand of death notifications I didn’t know if I had the strength. Casey I was a completely broke man, my soul was empty.
Anyway I made both calls. These two calls were the toughest calls of notification I’ve ever made.
Sandy, the wife worked at the high school, I’d gotten her the job a few years before, when jippo loggers were out of work. Her boss was a close friend, I told Mike what happpened, he prepped her and I shared her husbands death info to her. And I cried and cried and cried with her. Seems like it took years.
The absolute toughest call was to their only son. I instructed him to pull his 18 wheeler to the side of the road. Their is no simple way to break this kind of bad news. And I cried and cried and cried with Forrest.
I called our family clergy, asked him to meet us at our home, had my wife go and get Sandy. I stuck around and helped the funeral home, load Matt, helped carry him to the ambulance. And I fucking cried some more.
I went home where my son and me drove to Beatty Nevada to meet Forrest. I didn’t want him to have to drive the 12 hours without a best friend with him. My son assaisted with driving the semi and I followed.
I spent many many sad days at the grave pondering my life. 11 years ago, on this day, my friend Matt Waldron died. A tough day for me.
Dirk
Almost correct, Matt died on a Thursday, not this specific day of the year. Sorry about that.
VI
Thank you for telling the story, Dirk.
You have my condolences. No one should die from an accident like that when they’re young.
Exactly WHEN did Clapton perform this song devoted to standing up and not taking any shit? Because Clapton has certainly taken it, in the arm, at the expense of his motor skills. Eric has been addicted to nicotine, cocaine, heroin, alcohol, you name it. Now he admits he’s addicted to the News At 5 and the News At 10. And not one of his friends persuaded him to avoid the vaxx. If Van Morrison has told him, it was too late. CJ Hopkins, an American playwright living in Berlin, has penned an article that describes clearly standing up against the lies and mindfuckery. https://tinyurl.com/wacu2ydc
Fork them all while their mothers howl at the moon.
Driving to North Pole thrice a week or so to check my mail I pass a guy, always seems to be working, with a portable mill in a church yard making rough lumber out of spruce logs. Interesting times, price of wood high enough and availability of wood low enough that one guy with a po dunk mill can make a living and a bit competing against Weyerhaeuser, Georga Pacific, etc.
A friend and I have talked about getting a mill. I’ve been wanting one for a long time.
Ghost-
A buddy of mine in Canton, OH bought one of these and loves it. He used it to build a vacation/hunting cabin on some remote acreage he has. He did the self-assembly and brags that “it only took one person and 2 cases of beer to build it.” I think they go for about $2500.00. That’s pretty cheap.
https://www.hud-son.com/product/hunter-sawmill/