Martha Josey Inducted into Prestigious ProRodeo Hall of Fame

 Martha Josey

On April 20th, 2020 the ProRodeo Hall of Fame announced their prestigious list of 2020 inductees. Marshall, Texas native, 11 time NFR qualifier and 1980 WPRA World Champion, Martha Josey was selected as the only female rodeo competitor to be inducted that year. Because of the pandemic the ProRodeo Hall of Fame and their inductees have been patiently waiting to celebrate their inductions.

The ProRodeo Hall of Fame boasts one of the most esteemed collections of legendary cowboys and cowgirls in the nation. To be selected as an inductee is the highest honor for a rodeo competitor, stock contractor, contract personnel, and even livestock.

During her 50 year career as a professional barrel racer, Martha won every championship you can win. Martha began her domination of the barrel racing scene in the 1960’s. She and Cebe Reed won every barrel race they attended claiming multiple association titles, and quarter horse show championships.

Her first year competing in the Girl’s Rodeo Association (GRA), now the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association (WPRA),  she qualified for the National Finals Rodeo in 1968. Martha then went on to qualify 10 more times across 4 decades on 6 different horses. In 1980, Martha and her iconic horse Sonny Bit O’ Both won both the WPRA World Championship and the AQHA World Championship in the same year; a record that hasn’t been matched to this day. In 1988, Martha qualified to compete at the 1988 Calgary Olympic Games.  After the dust settled, she walked away an Olympic Bronze Medalist and Team Gold Medalist.

While still competing, Martha and husband R.E. felt called to share their hard-earned knowledge with other aspiring barrel racers and calf ropers. In 1967 Martha and R.E. Josey held their first barrel racing clinic. Fast forward 52 years and the Josey Ranch, located in Marshall, Texas, is now synonymous with superior barrel racing instruction. Martha, R.E., and their team have trained over 300,000 students with many going on to win big in the arena. A few notable names that got their start at the Josey Ranch are: Fallon Taylor, Mary Walker, Jimmie Smith, Lynn McKenzie, and Angie Meadors.

The Josey Ranch is also known for hosting the renowned Josey Reunion and Josey Jr. World Barrel Races that bring in over 5,000 competitors and fans each year. Over the years it is estimated that over 2 million visitors have crossed through the gates of the Josey Ranch. Martha and R.E. Josey prove that the mark of a true legend is in the champions that they train. 

“I was completely shocked by the call that I was being inducted,” Martha states. “I have dreamed of being a member of the ProRodeo Hall of Fame for as long as I can remember, this is such an honor. Thank you to all my students, fans, sponsors, and especially my all time favorite coach R.E. Josey. I couldn’t have done it without all of y’all!” 

Martha can now add the ProRodeo Hall of Fame to her illustrious list of inductions from other Hall of Fame’s including the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame, the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame, the Texas Rodeo Cowboy Hall of Fame, Texas Rodeo Hall of Fame, and the Ark-La-Tex Sports Museum Hall of Fame.

Martha traveled to Colorado Springs for her induction July 14th. 

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Pioneer Days Festival In Jefferson

 Pioneer Days Festival

When the Pioneer Days Festival gets started on September 4 with a parade, the streets of Jefferson may not be this crowded as the one pictured in the old photograph of the bygone days of the city,, but it will be a lot more fun.

Jefferson’s Opera House Theatre Players has put together a 3-day festival that will, hopefully, bring lots of visitors to the city on the long weekend of Labor Day.  Starting with a parade at 10 am the morning of Sept. 4th, the parade will be a parade of all pioneer-suited horseback riders to depict the

earlier days of old Jefferson which was founded in the 1840s along the Big Cypress River. The Players are currently seeking more horse-back riding groups and individuals that will participate in and be willing to dress in the garb of the pioneer settlers of that day.   A prize will be given to the entry that is judged the most authentic of the bunch. Board member Hollis Shadden is trail boss for the entries.

Also on tap for Saturday, is an Old Fashioned Street Dance, located on the brick covered streets of downtown Jefferson specifically Austin Street.

Everyone is invited to attend the dance that will feature entertainment by Sheila and the Caddo Kats Band of nearby Karnack..  The band will play for boot-scootin’ dancin’ from 6 to 8 pm on Austin Street between Polk Street and Walnut Street.  A prize will also be given here for the most authentic “cowboy or pioneer” outfit in the group of dancers.  Dance-manager is board member Joe Todaro.

Sunday, Sept. 5’s event will be centered on the First Annual Port Jefferson Dutch Oven Cooks, a group that dress in period costume and make tasty Vittles and Grub for hungry visitors that you can sample at no cost.  Also scheduled are several entertainers including Johnny RiverRat and Miss Ann Leslie, both singers of note who will perform either original songs or songs that recall the past pioneer days of early Jefferson. It is expected

that several square dance groups will demonstrate square dancing as members of the East Texas Square and Round Dance Association.

A very unusual bit of entertainment will occur at odd times during the 3-day event when new OHTP board member, Jim Blackburn, and friends re-create a true-life shootout that once happened in the wagon yard of downtown Jefferson.  The hombres will be dressed in cowboy gear and armed with authentic-looking guns and will stage the shootout complete with dialogue at least four times during the weekend event.

According to OHTP president, Marcia Thomas, the first two days of the Pioneer Days Festival is free for all to attend.  There will be no cost to participate in the Parade, the Street Dance or the Vittles and Grub Dutch Oven meal where samples will be served.  Individuals may also patronize the many restaurants and shops for drinks and souvenirs as well as ride the various amusement rides available during their free time.  There is also a drive-through 

safari ride available on the outskirts of town that will be open where exotic animals, including a Texas Longhorn Steer, can be seen.

Pioneer Days will culminate on Monday, September 6 with a performance by the famous singing instrumental group, the ‘Sons of the Pioneers” in the Visitor Building at 3 pm.  Tickets for the show may be purchased online at $35/pr for VIP tickets (only 20 of these first 2-row tickets are left) or a general seating ticket at $25/person.  They may also be purchased at The Willow Tree, 211 N Polk, in Jefferson.

For more information regarding the festival, please contact JeffersonTheatre@aol.com or call 903-665-8243 and leave message if no answer.

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Jordan’s Way Comes To Marshall

 Jordan’s Way Becomes To Marshall

The nationally recognized animal welfare advocate, Jordan’s Way, chose Friends of Marshall Animals to be one of the stops on their 50-state rescue/shelter fundraising tour.

Our fundraiser will take place Wednesday, July 21, 2021, from 6:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., at the current shelter. The scheduling was determined by Jordan’s Way’s travel timetable and we’re honored to be one of only 20 stops in Texas.

The event itself is a live fundraiser; essentially a telethon broadcast to a Facebook audience. In order to meet our goal of $15,000 in four hours, it’s very important that we get prominent local citizens, such as yourself, involved.

Do you have a good sense of humor? Are you willing to participate in stunts that would be beneath your dignity for anything other than a great cause? We need you! 

Some of the activities may include:

– taking a pie in your face

– enjoying a bucket of water poured over your head

– bobbing for dog bones in whipped cream

– shaving your head

– coloring your hair

– eating dog food

If you’re willing to do even more extreme stunts, we’d love to hear about it. We need good incentives to encourage people to donate!

You decide at what total fundraising amount you’re willing to participate in certain stunts. (Note that no one volunteer will necessarily be chosen to perform all of the stunts he or she is willing to do.)

For example:

At $1,000, you’re willing to take a pie in the face

At $5,000, you’re up for a bucket of ice poured over your head

At $10,000, you’ll let a puppy lick whipped cream off your face

At $15,000, you’ll eat dog food

At $20,000, you’ll allow your head to be shaved

Participants are encouraged to recruit other willing volunteers, and also to reach out to their friends, family, & social media with challenges “on the side.”  For example, you might say to them, “please help the fundraiser get to $500, and I will let them throw a pie in my face.”

We are also recruiting local businesses to match donations. They will be recognized on the live feed and also have a post of their own on our social media. Our Facebook page alone has over 12,000 followers.

Here’s a link to the Jordon’s Way fundraiser page for FOMA. People are already donating!

https://www.facebook.com/donate/4003344449712806/

This TV news story about one of Jordan’s Way’s previous stops may give you a better idea of what happens during the fundraiser: https://youtu.be/mrN9sRrvzTY

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Josey Ranch – 54th Year of Barrel Racing and Calf Roping Schools


Instructors and Staff at Josey Ranch

By Ron Munden

In 1967, Martha and R.E. Josey  entered the world of education.  They provided barrel racing and calf roping instruction to 100 students.  On May 30, 2021 they welcomed 150 students  to Josey Ranch for the first class of the year.

For this class, the students came from 10 different states.  The students range in age from 5 years old to high school-aged students.  Most students stay in the boys and girls dorms located in two buildings on the property. 

Many parents stay for the week.  There is a large area on the ranch for RV parking. Some younger children stay with their parients.

During the opening meeting on Sunday, many members of the staff gave a brief bio. Many of the instructors, ranging in age from 30 to 50 years old, recalled first coming to Josey Ranch as a student when they were 7 or 8 years old.

When you are at the ranch you get the feeling you’re attending a family reunion. 

R.E. and Martha both have a list of awards much too long to list here.  What is even more important is how they relate to students.  They interact with each student as if that child is the only student on the ranch.

Many of the speakers on Sunday talked about the ranch being a “very special place.”

I agree with them.

On Saturday the week ends with a closing ceremony, barrel racing or roping In the main arena.  Martha encourages people from Marshall to come out Saturday, look around and enjoy the event.

The event starts at 1pm.  Josey Ranch is located at:  8623 SH 43 N.  Karnak Texas.

Just take Highway 43 toward Karnack and you can’t miss it.

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Living in East Texas 101

I spent the first 16 years of life in the woods of northern Virginia. I loved the woods. Without fear I played in them, made teepees, went fishing and hand fed a skunk. I milked cows, fed the pigs and chopped the head off a chicken because mama said we didn’t have anything to eat and company was coming. You get the picture. I was a country girl.

Twenty years ago we moved to the country. Tall pines that seemed to touch the sky, spider wart growing wild in the meadow, the wild daffodils and narcissus  followed by the white iris. It was unbelievably beautiful.

And then one day I breached the first rule of East Texas 101. stuck my hand under a shrub to get some dead leaves. Company was coming and I was making a final inspection of the property. The next second I was facing a white, open mouth  attached to the body of a rather unattractive snake with a nasty attitude.

We know the rest of the story. I survived but almost got my head bit off by my loving husband. 

I learned about fire ants. I rescued an abandoned pointer that could smell a pit viper 50 feet away and destroy it in minutes.

I’ve learned so much and my performance has reflected my progress.But today was the last straw.

I have been around ticks, probably fleas too. We picked them off the dogs when they looked like a real, black, Tahitian pearls. Now we don’t worry about  pests such as those. We simply give our dogs meds. 

I spend a lot of time outside and walk my dogs thru the woods. I do a tick check on myself, otherwise the dogs would not let me get into our bed.

Yesterday evening my belly button started itching.  We have mosquitoes by the thousands so I assumed it was a mosquito bite. During the night I had to retrieve calamine lotion which didn’t help.

This morning I went to my official source of health care and asked, “why is my belly button red, itchy, hot and swollen.?” The possibilities ranged from bad to nauseating.

However much advice suggesting looking inside the belly button. With tweezers in hand I pried open my inny belly button looking for fluid, scabs, anything. And then a spotted a tiny thin brown piece of a scab. I pulled on it and the scab was bigger. I checked the scab under a magnifying glass and the scab had legs. It was a (bad word, bad word) dead tick.

Not covered in East Texas 101. I went to my husband’s office, told him it wasn’t covered in the class and pick out the moving company. Dead ticks in my belly button are not acceptable.

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I Have A Dream

By Ron Munden – 2/18/2021

2021 has proved one thing – Texas is unprepared for cold weather.  I am one of the lucky ones. I have power currently.  I do not have the internet, so I have lots of time to write about the past.

I don’t dream often.  At least I do not remember my dreams very much.  When I do dream it is often the same dream.

In the dream – I am always carrying a football going for a touchdown.  I take a hit and go down just inches short of the goal line.  The outcome of the dream never changes.

My football career started on a Saturday afternoon in June 1954.  That was the day for Little League tryouts in Marshall Texas.  I have been practicing baseball with my friend Charles McIntire for weeks prior to this day.  At noon Charles’ dad drove us to sign-up for the tryouts.  He dropped us off and drove home.  All was going well until I found out that it cost $2 to register.  I had no money.  I panicked, put my baseball glove under my arm and ran home from the Little League park to 902 East Burleson.

By the time I arrived home my dad had come home from work.  He ask me why I was home.  I explained.  He seemed concerned but not mad at me.  He just said, “Get in the car.”

I assumed he was driving me back to the Little League park, but I was wrong.  Instead, he drove to Logan and Whaley Sporting Goods Store and bought a football.  The rest of the afternoon he and I passed the football in the backyard.

During one of our breaks my dad told me what my future was going to look like.  He said that he did not have the money to send me to college, but I was going to college on a football scholarship and I was going to be an engineer.  He then said that if I did not do this, I was going you spend the rest of my life working in the body shop.  Since I have been working summers in the body shop since I was 9-years old, I knew exactly what that meant, and I also knew I did not want that life.

While it might be blind luck, what dad told me happened just like he said.  However we lived in a railroad town, I had never met an engineer and I really did not know what an engineer was, I spent the next couple of years thinking I was going to spend my life driving trains.

My father telling me that I was going to play football came as a surprise.  I had never thought about playing football but that fall my dad took me to sign up for midget football.

My first year of football could not be rated as a big success.  Football is a contact sport and I hated hitting and being hit. I have always been blessed with speed, but I used that speed to run away from action, not toward it.  So that first year I played bench warmer.  I hated playing football but I hated thought of telling my father I was quitting much more.

I continued holding the well-deserved position of bench warmer through the 7th and 8th grade.  But something happened in the 8th grade.  I changed from hating contact and hitting to loving it. The high point of my 8th grade year was overhearing a 9th grade player let his friend I really hit hard.

I was an undiagnosed dyslectic throughout grade school thru graduate school.  I only found out later in life.  Now I understand why school was so difficult for me during my early years.

Though grade school and the first two years of junior high I hated school.  I dreaded going to school every day.  I was at the bottom of my class and my twin sister Carol was at the top.

Finally, in the 9th grade I found something I was good at – algebra. I had always understood all of the concepts and processes of arithmetic, but I often got the answer wrong because of transposing numbers.  In algebra it is hard to transpose an “x” or “y”. 

In football, after three years of bench warming, I made the starting lineup.

My high school football years were good but not great.  I played a lot and I did make all-district my senior year. I got to play because I was fast not because I was big.  I ended my high school senior at 6 foot 1 inch and 142 pounds. 

I never thought about where I would go to college.  I knew the school would choose me by offering me a scholarship or I would not go to college.  I quickly found that very few schools wanted to offer a football scholarship to a 142-pound halfback.  Because of my speed I did get track scholarship offers from some major schools but at that time track scholarships were only half-scholarships and that was not an option.  I also knew my father wanted me to play football.

That left the junior colleges, Kilgore and Tyler JCs were talking to me.

Fortunately, Bob Mason, a Marshall coach, took me under his wing.  No one in my family had been to college so I knew nothing about college and even how to apply.

Coach Mason was coaching at Marshall but had announced that he was leaving to take a coaching position at Austin College in Sherman.  He asks me if I would like to see Austin College.  Of course, I said yes.  He and his wife took me to AC for a weekend.  At the end of the weekend, he asked me if I would like to go to school there.  The rest is history.  He helped me complete all the paperwork and I was off to Austin College in the fall of 1961.

I arrive at Austin College in August to start two-a-day workouts.  I was probably in the best shape of my life.  I spent most of the summer building fence but quit two weeks before leaving for college.  I sent 8 to 10 hours each day working out at the old Mav stratum with other guys that were also headed off to college.

I was up to 152 pounds when I arrived at AC.  Even though I was small, I was the fastest player on the team and that earned me a starting position as defensive safety my freshman year.

Being a college athlete was a completely new experience for me.  I got to eat on the training table.  I got all the food I could eat and things that I had not eaten before. I don’t recall eating a baked potato before getting to AC but I had one every night after that first night. Between classes I would go to the gym and get high-cal chocolate drinks, I returned home to Marshall at Christmas weighing 195 pounds.  I was longer one of the small guys.

Coach Mason once told my father that he thought the more I played the better I played.  In track he registered me for the maximum number of events allowed in a track meet.  He must have passed that on to the head football coach, Coach Gass.

My sophomore year at AC, I continued to play defensive safety but also played running back on the offensive about half of the time.  I loved being on the field that much.  I reached 200 pounds that year which made me a more effective ball carrier.  Unfortunately, my ability to receive a pass did not improve.

My junior year at AC was my dream year.  It started with a bang – a bang I was not expecting.  Coach Gass always called the plays from the sideline and a player took the play to the huddle. The first game of the year, AC received the kickoff, and then I carried the ball the first 5 or 6 plays in a row, including a 45-yard run that was called back for clipping.  After the last play in the series, I was laying on the ground in the end zone and thinking “do I have enough energy left to walk off the field.”

After being on the sideline for a series or two, I was back in the game, but I never carried the ball two plays in a row for the rest of the game.  At half-time I remember sitting against the wall in the locker room sipping on coke from a cup.  The coach was discussing the game plan for the second half.  At one point he looked at me and said, “Horse can you keep running?”  When though I was so tired it felt like my arms were asleep, I said, “yes sir.”  I must not be very convincing.  I only got to carry the ball a few times the second half but still went over 100-yard rushing for the game.

Things continued going well for the season and I racked up more 100-yard plus games.  The last game of the season I did pull a groin muscle, but I just slowed me down for that one game.  All-in-all it was a good season.  I was lucky enough to be named to the Dallas Morning News All-Texas Football Team and even started getting letters from some of the pro team.  At this point I only remember the San Francisco 49s and the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Even though I had increased my weight to about 210, I had a successful track season recording a series of 9.7-hundred-yard dashes.

I was honored to be selected as the athlete of the year at Austin College.

It was a very good year.

Austin College is a well-respected liberal arts school, but I went there because I could get my education paid for not because I want a liberal art degree.  Remember, I was going to be an engineer.  My plans called for me to transfer to University of Texas, Austin at the end of the year three to work on my engineering degree.  I considered my athletic career over.

In the late spring of that year, I was contacted by the Head Football Coach and he suggested I consider coming back to AC for one more semester.  He outlined some of the benefits.  Almost immediately after that my father called and said he had been talking to the Coach.  He said that he really wanted me to go back to AC for a semester and if I decided to go back, he could afford to buy me a new car.  At this point all of my cars had been cars that had been totaled in a wrench and repaired by us at the body shop.

So just like that my plans changed, and I was going back to AC for a semester and I would be driving a new car.

Maybe if I had been honest with people, they would not have pushed me to come back to AC.  I never told my coaches or my father that my groin injury had not fully gone away.  I could sprint because you don’t use the groin muscle but when I moved to the side, I could still feel it.  I just thought if I gave it enough time it would heal.

The 1st of July was when I started training for football each year.  1964 was no different but the day after my first workout was quite different.  After running several sets of sharp cuts, it was clear that the groin injury was still there.  I knew I had a problem.  I called the coaches at AC.  They said to come up to Sherman immediately and they would send me to an athletic doctor.

After the doctor did his exam and a series of x-rays, he said that part of the groin muscle had pulled loose from the bone taking a piece of bone with it. He said it could be repaired with surgery, but I would not be ready by the start of the football season.  Surgery was out. So, they started treatment with shots and physical theory.

My senior season was not a good season.  I played every game, but my numbers did not match by junior year.  I could run but not without pain.  My senior year the routine became to play the game on Saturday and run like nothing was wrong.  By Sunday morning the groin was very sore and hurt with each step.  At 1pm each Sunday I met the trainer at the field house, and we began therapy. Therapy was mainly hot water, ultrasound and an occasion shot. This continued through the week.  My workout was limited to mainly running in straight lines.  By Friday I felt fairly good.  Saturday, we started the routine over.

No one ever said anything, but I know I disappointed a lot of people that year.

After the season ended there was one more chapter.  In December.  I was called by the Head Coach.  He said a scout for the Pittsburgh Steelers wanted to talk to me.  They gave me the number.  I called him.  The scout was a nice gay, and we had a series of conversations.  I kept wondering why anyone in their right mind would offer a free agent contract to anyone that had such a disastrous season.  Finally, during a conversation, he said that they were looking for a running back that was over 200 pound and had sub 10 flat speed.  So, at 210 with 9.7 speed, I got in the door.

I had a conflict.  Although the money was good, there were a lot of negatives – I would have needed surgery, I would have left college without a degree, and statistically the chances of me making the team were not good.  

My coaches did not try to influence me but my dad wanted me to sign the contract.  Finally, I told dad that I was going to engineering school and my football days were behind me.

I spent 2 ½ year at UT and 3 year at UC Berkeley and never attended a football game. During the past 50 years, I may have watched 6 games on TV.  I loved playing football but watching is just not the same.

I wonder why I keep having my dream.

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What’s Obvious to Natives

1/4/2021

You think Trump can lie his ass off?

RT is a Russian state owned and operated enterprise which conducts operations in the US and other Western countries. It produces and infuses a mix of propaganda, National Inquirer stories and rattlesnake venom into the Western media-stream for consumption by the credulous – of which there have been a growing number ever since we stopped teaching civics to junior high students.

Originally known as Russia Today, the operation was rebranded “RT” a couple of years before it became acceptable to traipse around Trump Tower wearing Chinese polypropylene gimme-caps stenciled with recycled Reagan campaign slogans. Putin’s internet house-organ has enjoyed an enormous surge in growth and popularity during the Trump era. (e.g.)

RT’s remit is perhaps no more sinister (but certainly no less) than its counterparts like the US Information Service and the State Department. Think of RT as MSNBC (or FOX) operating in the DRPK but with a constrained budget, limited access to talent, and a management composed of CIA operatives.

The following was submitted to RT’s website using the ‘share your comments’ button.

Me? I always have comments.

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Gentlemen and Ladies:

I get the idea about how if you’re able to turn the US into as big of a dumpster fire as Russia that it will facilitate your efforts to continue holding up Mother Russia to your own MAGA class as The Best Dumpster Fire Over All The Rest of The Dumpster Fires. I’ll also admit that it’s not the worst strategy; but let’s face it, that sort of thing didn’t get you guys to the moon first, did it?

Unfortunately, you’re laboring under more than a few misapprehensions about the American character. I’m going to describe the most central one to you. Hacking our computer systems is child’s play when it comes to hacking a MAGA.

Look, the MAGAs are pretty stupid – we all know that – but if you think you’re going to Radio Free Europe them into doing predictably stupid shit you’re in for a rude surprise. Very rude. I’m talking Trotsky spotting that ice axe moments before it sunk into his head. 

You can’t trick people in rural Alabama into doing what you want them to do, every time.  They are as unpredictable as drunk Cossacks. More. To be sure, this time they were with you. But next time, who knows? Figuring these things can be subtle and subtlety is not exactly engrained in the Russian spirit, now is it? My friends, had the hillbillies in South Carolina still been drinking moonshine instead of speed balling oxy and meth – Trump may very well have died on the vine. Did you chess masters consider that when you were putting this whole thing together?

You certainly didn’t give it much thought after you won I imagine. But victory in America is fleeting, gold-precious, and though it occasionally goes to the lucky, usually it goes to the smart. And we have a saying here in the U.S.A. that goes like this:

You were lucky this time.

Fellas, the Manchurian Candidate was a movie script, OK? It’s not going to work more than once. There are too many variables. You boychiks are good at arithmetic, right? Model it out. 

What I’m doing here is warning you that if it feels like you’ve got Billy Bob and Martha Rae figured out, you don’t. If MAGAS could be figured out, we’d have already done it and started making them do what we wanted them to do.

Face it, you lucked out. This is not chess, boys. And you can’t stake your political goals on a bunch of fucking idiots.

Ask Donald Trump.

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Roots Music Report chart of Best Acoustic Blues Albums of 2020!

Roots Music Report chart of Best Acoustic Blues Albums of 2020!

Congratulation Steve Howel, Dan Sumner, Jason Weinheimer, David Dodson 

From Steve Howell

Hey! Just got some great news! “Long Ago” #15 and “History Rhymes” #66 made the Roots Music Report chart of Best Acoustic Blues Albums of 2020! This is based on radio airplay reporting. Dan Sumner, Jason Weinheimer, David Dodson, and I are very grateful to all of the DJ’s who played our records this year. More to come once things turn around pandemic-wise.

Gasbag Flameout

12/15/2020

Gasbag Flameout
how now orange cow . . .

There are a lot of reasons Donald John Trump slithered into the Oval Office forty-seven months ago. And a lot of reasons he’s headed for the door next month when Joseph Robinette Biden is sworn in. You didn’t know about the Robinette thing, did you? I’ll admit it doesn’t have the same mudslinging frisson as Hussein, but it’ll do.

         Anything’ll do, really. It is instructive to remember most MAGAs (You shall know them by their red-stained pates.) did not blink when told, “Remember, what you’re seeing… is not what’s happening.” That sort of phrase perfectly encapsulates Trump’s world view. Although no coherent view of the world is possible for a solipsist.  (Solipsism is like narcissism on acid. Not like hippie acid, like Alien blood acid.)

 Mr. Trump’s followers don’t tend to have (nor care to possess) a reasonable, objective, defensible view of reality; many believe the earth is less than ten thousand years old. Once you’ve swallowed something like that it’s not much of a leap to the notion that 50% of Guatemalan five-year-olds belong to a South American gang. A gang they had to commit first degree murder to join. As has been tirelessly pointed out by the fake news media (and even several earnest members of the organization) MS-13 started in Los Angeles.

And anyway, everyone knows it’s really the Salvadorans you want to watch out for.

         Trump will of course continue to operendi his modus; fleecing the faithful and avoiding the cross-bar motel. (A skill he taught to remarkably few of his lieutenants.) Defining those who voted for Trump as either idiots or deplorable is a mistake. What they actually are, is pissed. Perhaps a majority of them were born that way. That’s not going away when Trump carries Melania across the threshold at Cruella Castle in County Palm Beach.

         When the scarlet-tops get wound up – they’re worse than a bunch of ACLU pointy-heads railing on the death penalty. Greenpeace will keep you from cutting down a tree by putting a spike in its trunk. The Proud Girls will simply shoot you in the head.

         As Dick Nixon might have put it, “NOW, we’re getting somewhere!”

         Except that we’re not. The party might continue, but the guy with all the coke and whores has split, Jack. Ever since the premier episode of “Who Wants to be POTUS?!” when Trump and the soft-core First Lady descended from the skies on Big Otis, the MAGAS have sent the ratings through the roof.

But look guys, the Network didn’t pick up the series for a fifth season. What can I say? Write your Congressman.

But wait, what’s that slick new reality show on Facebook and YouTube? Something about 18,000 socialist poll workers toppling a government. The first episode was free but if you want to see the more please go to www.trump.com/one-born-every-minute.html/

Have a valid credit card ready. I’m told the new series will be renewed every season, as long as the MAGAs continue to finance the shooting costs and producer’s override.

Not that anyone cares, but those who’ve worked in a U.S. polling place knows ‘stolen’ votes are as common as virgin births. But these are the same idiots that believe in the safety of 5G and think chemtrails are made of condensed water.

         The lippy drunk at the end of the bar has finally gotten tossed out on his ass by an eighty million pound bouncer strapped with nuclear weapons. Will he get nabbed for P.I. as he stumbles out to the car, or maybe return with an AR to teach the bouncer a lesson he’ll never forget?

MAGAworld is certainly welcomed to keep buying tickets and staying tuned, but that big bouncer’s been working the door here for nearly 250 years and one’s kicked his ass yet.

If you don’t count Ho Chi Min.

Like any rapidly aging drunk with too much money, Trump’s next move is as unpredictable as it will be excruciating to witness. My best guess is that he’ll end up hawking stale launch codes and shooting scripts of the Zapruder film. That means either a long reservation at the Julian Assange suite in the Kremlin… or ending up as a door prize for some lucky MS-13 member at Leavenworth.

Whatever happens, there’s no way they’re ever letting him back into that bar.

One more thing …

Trump: ‘What You’re Seeing and What You’re Reading Is Not What’s Happening’

Click here to see the video

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IS IT TIME TO NEUTER ZUCK

IS IT TIME TO NEUTER ZUCK AND THROW HIM IN A PIT SOMEWHERE?

What the Would YOU do with Thirty Billion Dollars in Your Checking Account?
MarkyMark & Prissy Zuckerberg plot the torture and dismemberment of California governor Gavin Newsom while appearing to listen to him on a Zoom call.

By Mark Lee
Mark Lee is a CPA and business consultant who writes about politics, economics and culture. He lives in Maui but makes frequent trips back home to Texas. He once portrayed Jeff Lebowski in a corporate video. You can reach him at mark@maui.tax

To be honest I never liked this little pricksicle. 

Hating on Zuck – a nickname which misses the word “suck” by a single letter –  has entertained millions for over a decade. If you think it’s because we’re envious of his dough, well look at the big brain on you. The difference between me and The Other White Mark is that I am jealous of his money – but he is not jealous of my possession of a soul.

I’d also like to take a moment to make clear that I’m not jealous of everything the boy has.  

Like his hair. 

Or Wuhan Bridezilla up there. Wowzers.  A quarter trill sitting in the office safe… and you end with this chick?

Must have a hell of a personality.

Before you start in on me… I don’t believe in leaving innocent spouses out of things like this.  And if you think calling a defenseless, innocent, thirty-five year old Asian multi-billionaire Wuhan Bridezilla is some fucked up, MAGA, racist bullshit – – you’d be right.  But I cut and pasted it from Zuck’s website – http://www.facebook.comnot mine.  So I’m just quoting when I say Wuhan Bridezilla- and nobody can culture cancel you for that.  Can they? 

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Sociology teaching moment: Innocent spouses are rare.  More rare than Facebook posts by Nazis about killing Jews in any event. Less rare than US election news and analysis  from the Internet Research Agency in your FB “news” feeds. Zuckerberg to world:  “I got your feed right here…”

QUICK: WHICH WEBSITE IS THE BIGGEST SUPERSPREADER OF MISINFORMATION ABOUT THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC?

(It’s not a trick question)

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I’m not going to apologize for what follows, because it comes from a genuine place. I’m speaking from the heart when I offer “feedback” to the worker bees at Facebook. It may be a black heart, but it’s my heart. Look, in all fairness to me the little bastards asked for my “feedback”. Should you ever decide to offer “feedback” to Squad Zuck, please exercise extreme caution. Feeding(back) the spawn of a chimpanzee and a wraith is extremely risky. It can bite your fucking arm off at the elbow and use what’s left as a bloody straw to suck your soul (viz. your ‘personal information’) out of you. Hey, speaking of soul sucking billionaires…

How many hours did you spend on social media last month? Have you ever considered that you could’ve spent all that time lying in a warm bath staring at the open straight razor sitting in the soap dish thinking about other cool stuff you might do instead? I’m only saying that life offers a cornucopia of possibilities other than spending fourteen hours a week as an unpaid research subject. Your breathtaking generosity with your time and your humanity has put enough money in the pockets of that guy up there who looks like he’s seconds away from going full Ted Bundy…  that he can afford to move to Mars. Which is probably a much more suitable place for him. He could frolic around up there in the low gravity and CO2 breeze with South African CRISPR experiment Elon Musk.

It’s hardly a coincidence that a lot of billionaires are headed for outer space – and you should be rooting for them. These guys aren’t planning on letting people like you come with to Mars and that’s actually the good news. These delusional little demi-gods may believe they’re running from the disaster of planet earth but what they’re really doing is running to a different place where they can create yet another disaster. 

We’ll all be doing much better down here without the Insane Clown Billionaire Posse sharing our ecosphere. I predict we’ll be amazed at how successfully we can all get back to the business of being actual human beings again. Instead of lab rats. The time when people like Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates are safely consigned to vacuum of space can’t come soon enough. How about we lock the door and turn off the radios when they split?

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