Yes, I have a family

In a family tradition that includes at least seven generations of accomplished horse-handlers, my grand-daughters are winning saddles.

I never competed in rodeos; Dad thought it was a good way to get hurt. My daughter Shanna, however, put herself through college with rodeo scholarships. For about ten minutes one day back in 1983 she even held the So. Dak. state record in goat tying.

I am still not wild about such events, holding that roping calves and tying goats is an unpleasant experience for the tie-ees. In the scheme of things, however, kids' rodeos are probably better ways for kids to spend at least some of their energy and time than video games, blogs and mall surfing.

Here are pictures of Bridget, 14, and Shayla, 10, with their All-Around saddles won at Broadus MT on June 21. Brooke, 13, won the All-Around in her division last year. Shyanne, 6, has been a big disappointment, failing yet to win in the stick-horse division. :--))

Missouri Lawdog Educates Rapid Citians

On June 2, former Missouri undercover narc Ed Moses presented a program at the School of Mines in Rapid City (SD). He said he was in town to conduct a training session for local law enforcement, and had accepted an invitation from a group called ASAP (Adolescent Substance Abuse Prevention).

The program had been billed as dealing with medical marijuana, but Moses presented a powerpoint-illustrated explication of the dangers of all common psychotropic and recreational substances, including tobacco and alcohol.

Moses’ program lasted about an hour and a half. The first hour actually contained fairly accurate information, but the last 30 minutes consisted of a series of slides and vocal accompaniment that strained the imagination in its nearly universal inaccuracy about the effects and dangers of cannabis.

“Marijuana is the cause of 16 percent of highway fatalities,” Moses said. What he meant, of course, was that THC has been found in the systems of 16 per cent of those killed in car wrecks. No causality has been established.

“Scientists would study marijuana to determine its medical efficacy but for the efforts of ‘legalizers,’” Moses claimed. “Real scientists don’t want to be associated with pot smokers, and if the ‘legalizers’ would simply shut up, universities and medical schools would study the therapeutic effects of marijuana.”

When an audience member suggested that the DEA blocks all attempts of scientists like Lyle Craker of the University of Massachusetts to obtain waivers so they can study cannabis under controlled conditions, Moses replied that no scientist or medical school had ever submitted a proper application. That assertion is ludicrous on its face.

I mentioned to him that I had in hand a list of some 200 professional medical organizations that had endorsed either use or at least the study of the use of cannabis for therapy in various medical conditions. Moses replied that all of these groups, including the College of Physicians, the Academy of Family Physicians, the Institutes of Medicine and about 25 state nurses’ associations, had been duped by the legalizers.

Right. Tens of thousands of trained medical professionals have put their reputations on the line based on their actual experiences with cannabis and patients to endorse an herb that works for their patients. They were duped. Moses, on the other hand, having seen people in the line of his work take a hit off a joint and say, “oh, wow,” (an actual illustration in his words of why cannabis is harmful) has seen through the “smoke screen” (his words again, clever) to the fact that these professionals have been duped.

Less than 5% of those in prison are there for marijuana offenses, Moses claims. “Anything less than 500 lb. of marijuana in possession doesn’t interest the feds,” Moses claims. That might come as a surprise to a few dozen folks who have appeared in federal court in Rapid City during the last year alone for possession of five pounds.

I asked, “Even if what you say were true, and about half of it isn’t, does that justify putting people in jail for attempting to alleviate their own suffering?”

He replied, “Do you think it’s a good idea for “High Times” magazine to advertise marijuana “Jollypops” for kids?” Twice more I asked the question. Twice more he answered irrelevantly. The man is slipperier than a greased bong.

The event attracted about 60 people. About four to six of them were connected with ASAP. There were two groups of two adults each with three or four children and adolescents. The balance were about 25 18-to-twenty-somethings and others ranging to age 60 or so.

As Moses became more and more outrageous, catcalls and challenges from the audience made it plain that the majority by a significant margin were opposed to his mischaracterizations of the dangers of marijuana, “THE most dangerous drug of all” (as he said).

When it became plain near the end of his presentation that most of the dialogue with the audience was going to deal with Moses’ lies about cannabis, the groups with the younger folks left, apparently not wanting the children to be exposed to facts in opposition to their chaperones’ worldview.

That left an audience at least 3-to-1 opposed to Moses--a lone ranger, willing to stand on the hilltop in the wind and fight evil, even though the city in which he came to fight it apparently doesn’t apprehend the evil in even a large enough measure to send more than 20 representatives to learn how to fight it with him.

Did “we” win? Well, I doubt any minds were changed. What we “legalizers” saw was just one more illustration that we already have won, but the folks with the guns and the power of the courts will keep on shooting us until they are mowed down by ballot. Like Japanese soldiers in Indonesian caves, the Ed Moseses will still be there twenty years after the war is over.

FYI, Ed Moses generates income by training cops. That’s why he was in Rapid City.

Throwing stones from a glass house

It’s a turn of events so poetic that even I couldn’t have made fiction of it. Phat Phouch, moderator of “Dakota War College,” self-styled “best political blog in South Dakota,” can dish it out, but he can’t take it.

-------PP says, “I see Northern Valley Beacon can dish it out, but can’t take it."
------------Posted by PP at the SDWC at June 17, 2009

--------“After I pointed out his own foibles, I see NVB’s holier than though [sic] blogger, David
--------Newquist yanked my comment about his latest in bloviating pontification.”

The petulant phat phoucktard, Pat Powers (as his unfortunate parents designated him, and who apparently thinks that using “bloviating pontification” as a literary device means he’s smart), regularly jerks comments from his own blog’s stupid topic strings that offend his sense of self-importance.

I also notice that the stupid bastard can’t even spell “thou,” even though (note spelling thereof) I assume the overweight mackerel snapping real estate salamander has at least a passing acquaintance with the only commonly-used book still in circulation that uses that word about 60 times per page.

Ever since the exchange over his “10 Ignorant Stupid Fucking Questions” game, posed to me in 2006 (The cheap sonofabitch never even sent me the t-shirt that he admits he owes me.), I’ve been asking him a question: “Who owns you?.” He has either ignored the question or deleted it. Even a phat phoucktard can sometimes spot a situation that might lead him to have to defend a philosophical position based on absence of principles.

He finally answered the question. “Not a soul,” Phat Phouch says. He has refused to post my follow-ups to his empty answer.

Can he dish it out? Lamely. Can he take it? Well, when one bases his entire reason for being on placing one’s nose as close as possible to the asshole of what one considers power, one also has a tendency to go “ayiyiyiyiyi” whenever one is challenged on one’s stupid moronic weasel-sucking remarks.

Thank you, Phat Phouck, for providing one more example of the emptiness of the moral pretense of what you call a political philosophy (evan thou I no yew cain’t spail it).

Five minutes for cigarettes and centerfires

I was raised on a ranch northwest of Belle Fourche (SD). When I was a boy riding with my dad, I heard quite a little lore from the days in the ‘20s and ‘30s when he was hanging with the last of the open-rangers. There were quite a few old cowboys around Belle in those days who had come up from Texas with the big cow outfits.

Just about every time we’d ride up a tough slope--out of a creek crossing, say--Dad would announce at the top, “Five minutes for cigarettes and centerfires.”

Saddles are configured with one or two cinches. The latter are preferred by cowboys who have occasion to tie onto a large critter with a rope. The back cinch, which is usually not as tight as the front cinch, circles the horse’s stomach, and comes into play to prevent a large animal out in front of the horse from tipping the saddle forward or pulling it over the horse’s neck.

“Centerfire” saddles have only one cinch, a little farther back towards the center of mass of the saddle than the front cinch of a two-cincher. They are held in some contempt by “serious” cowboys, who think they slip more than two-cinch saddles. In both cases the main cinch is snugged around the horse’s rib cage immediately behind its front legs.

During a hard climb, a horse tends to lunge, which narrows its girth momentarily, allowing the its saddle to slip back a little. At the top of the climb, it’s wise to dismount and reposition the saddle forward, and to allow your horse a breather.

Bull Durham smokers might also take advantage of the break to twist one up in the lee of their mounts.

Five minutes for cigarettes and centerfires. Dad said it was a standard call from the leader of the crew after a hard climb. He seemed to get a kick out of singing it out. I must have gotten a kick out of hearing it.