Mark Twain – Outsmarted By A Lefty



A few years ago, the Wall Street Journal, published an article on being left-handed. I found it interesting because I am left-handed.

The experts said the study may help shed light on disorders related to brain development, like dyslexia, schizophrenia, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, which are more common in left-handed people.
These same experts say that about 10% of people are left-handed.
Another study by these experts says one of the determinates for turning out left-handed is that your mother was exposed to unusually high levels of stress during pregnancy so they gave birth to a left-handed child. So, I guess I can blame my affliction on my older brother, or at least part of it?
It’s dangerous being left-handed. I know it is. I live in danger every day when I try to operate tools made for right-handers. Can you believe a butter knife discriminates against lefties? Even fishing poses a problem.  Left-handers have to change the reels around so they can cast with their dominate hand. I would love to see right-handers out there trying to deal with everything being made for your left-handed brethren. After an hour of not being able to screw in a bolt, you would be driving it through your skull.

In pro football, Steve Young, a left-handed quarterback, posed a problem for his receivers because the spiral on the ball he threw was the opposite of what a right-handed quarterback threw.
But this WSJ article said, despite popular misperceptions, lefties aren’t more accident prone than right-handed people and don’t tend to die at a younger age. They also debunk the claim that left-handers are more intelligent than their right-handed counterparts. Folklore says left-handers are smarter, more creative and have an advantage over righties. Being left-handed, I tend to agree with folklore, at least it has history on its side. Obviously, this study was done by a right-handed researcher. Then the article went on to quote Robin Nusslock, a psychology professor at Northwestern University who said; “One reason more is not known about lefties is that many studies of how the brain works prohibit left-handers from participating because their brain wiring is known to be different.”

This article used a lot of scientific mumbo-jumbo like brain lateralization and hemisphere dominance along with the term “speculate.” I’m not positive, but I was under the understanding that scientists weren’t supposed to speculate. That they dealt in facts.

The article said that studying the dominance of one hand over the other may provide a window into the way our brains are wired, at least according to what these experts say.
Anyway, I’m left-handed and I’m not sure I want some quack looking in my window. Things up there are sensitive and meant to remain private.

Even Mark Twain, in one of his essays, seems to confirm the superiority of left-handers. He tells of the time he got hustled in a game of billiards in Virginia City.
A stranger in town proposed a game of billiards and Mark Twain agreed. The stranger told Mr. Twain to “knock the balls around a little so I can get your gait.”
After observing him for a while, the stranger said, “I will be perfectly fair with you, I’ll play you left-handed.”
After Mr. Twain lost the match, he said, “If you can play like that with your left-hand, I’d like to see you play with your right.”
“I can’t he said, “I’m left-handed.”
Once again, a sly left-handed bastard put one over on a slow-witted right-hander.
That story proves my point, left-handers are far superior to right-handers in spite of what some speculating researchers might say.

Max Fly, Private Eye and Homicide Detective Harry Marshall At A Crime Scene


Beach Cowboy

“What’s happening? We were told shots have been fired.”
“That’s right officer,” an older woman with graying hair answered, “Across the street. I’m pretty sure it’s on the second floor. The back apartment. I was out front getting the mail when a dark figure walked by and ran up the stairs.”
“A negro?”
“No, I mean he was wearing dark clothes.”
“Okay, continue.”
“Later, I was hanging wash in the back and I heard shots. I ran into my apartment and called the cops and then came back outside.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About twenty minutes. It sure takes you coppers a long time to get to a crime scene.”
Harry ignored her.
“Have you seen anyone leaving the building?”
“No, but they could have gone out the back.”
“Okay, stay here. Come on Max, I’ll need your help on this. Are you strapped?”
I nodded and Harry walked toward the building. I followed.
“Stay close to me. It will give them someone else to shoot at.”
“Now when we get close and if you are in doubt, empty your clip.”
“I don’t have a clip. I have a revolver.”
Harry looked at me. “Whatever.”
We walked up the stairs. Harry first, his back against the wall, his gun pointed toward the ground at his side. I followed him.
My leather holster dug into my shoulder. I hated it when it did that. After being smacked against a wall by a two thousand pound bull, my shoulder always ached. My doctor said the discomfort would eventually fade, but he never felt a bull’s horn rip through the muscle and sinew of his shoulder. The discomfort never goes away.
When we reached the top, Harry nodded his head toward the door. I knew what he wanted. I put my hand over the peephole while he positioned himself in front of the door with his gun extended.
He nodded once more before kicking the door beneath the lock.
“Aw shit, that hurt,” Harry said, grabbing his knee.
The door didn’t budge
I looked at him. “You want me to do it?”
“Fuck no; stand back.”
He kicked it again. This time, it swung open and banged against the inside wall with a loud crash.
Harry jumped in, sweeping the room with his gun. I did the same.
I ducked.
Harry looked at me. “What ya’ duck for?”
“I thought somebody might be in here. I learned in the Army that incoming fire has the right of way.”
“I’m glad you learned something.”
The stench made us both gag.


Auburn War Eagle? I don’t think so. University of Georgia War Eagle? Hardly.


For over 100 years now a battle has raged between these two schools as to which school originated the war eagle cry. But they are both out in left field because it was in Wisconsin where the true War Eagle originated. One that actually saw combat, albeit, he showed some of his chicken heritage as he feared artillery fire and took off whenever the big guns began to fire. But then, who doesn’t? In fact, he was actually wounded in battle, well, maybe not in battle, but he did injure his leg during a hurricane.

My Auburn University friends say they are the originators of the “war eagle” yell, but I know this isn’t true. I have read that there are three or four different theories on how the Auburn Tigers seized the War Eagle sobriquet and a couple of them have ties to football games against the University of Georgia. My favorite one is when the bird takes off in flight and screams, igniting the fans to scream, ‘war eagle,’ and the Auburn offense to score the winning touchdown. Immediately after the score, the eagle performs a kamikaze act, taking a nose dive onto the football field where it dies. Can you believe that? I can’t. In fact, some of the stories claim Auburn actually stole the war eagle cry from Georgia. Another one claims a Carlisle player was named War Eagle and they would call out his name during a game. But, listen, I’m here to put this silly argument to rest. Whatever side you support on the War Eagle debate, you are wrong. The cry “War Eagle” originated in Wisconsin. In fact, many cries originate in Wisconsin it’s so damn cold up there, plus Lutefisk and bratwurst both produce a case of indigestion that can cause any man to whimper in pain.

The true story of War Eagle began many years ago, a Wisconsin Ojibwe, Chief Sky, one of five sons of Thunder of Bees, Chief of the Flambeau band of Chippewa Indians, part of the Anishinaabe tribe, called the first people, during sugar making time about 125 miles outside the city of Eau Claire, chopped down a pine tree containing an eagle’s nest with two eaglet’s nestled inside. One died. Chief Sky, gathered up the other one and, evidently, not learning from the 1626 bead transaction his brothers conducted with the Dutch for selling Manhattan, sold the eaglet to a Dan McCann from Eagle Point, Wisconsin, for a bushel of corn. Actually, the bead transaction story is also a farce. The Canarsie Indians sold Manhattan to Dutch settlers, but not for some worthless glass beads, but for iron kettles, axes, knives, and cloth. The kicker to the story is that the land that they took payment for didn’t even belong to them. But, I don’t think all the kettles and other gadgets involved in that transaction come close to the $2100.00 per square foot that vacant land is currently selling for in Manhattan.

Now back to Wisconsin’s War Eagle. Dan McCann eventually sold the little eaglet to the commanding officer of the Eau Claire Badgers militia company. Typical of Wisconsin, a tavern was involved in this purchase when tavern owner, S.M. Jeffers, pitched in to help defray the exorbitant selling price of $2.50.

When the eagle was sworn into service, he was adorned with a breast rosette (rose shaped ornament) and a red, white and blue ribbon around his neck. They named him Old Abe.

While in Madison, a dog joined the regiment. Abe and the dog, Frank, tolerated one another because Frank provided rabbits and other small mammals for Abe to eat. Unfortunately for Frank, one day he ventured a bit too close to Abe’s meal, bringing an end of their relationship.

During “Old Abe’s” service, the 8th Wisconsin militia participated in many battles, expeditions, and pursuits of Confederate forces during his namesake’s Mr. Abe Lincoln’s war. Among these were the battles of  Corinth; Island Number 10; Big Black; Champion’s Hill; the Red River and Meridian expeditions; and the Battle of Nashville. “Old Abe” was there every step of the way. In many battles, he would circle the smoky battlefield as the enemy would be closing in and the bullets flew. He would rise high in the sky, all the while screaming at his assailants. After the battle, upon seeing his bearer, he would descend like a shot and fly into his arms. “Go War Eagle!”

Old Abe so infuriated Confederate General Sterling Price he was said to declare that he would rather “capture that bird than a whole brigade.”

Old Abe entered his last battle in the Great Rebellion, also referred to as the Civil War, as well as with many other names, at Hurricane Creek, MS. The war eagle’s shrieks could be heard clearly and distinctly above the victorious shouts of the Eau Claire Badgers militia. Abe seemed to have protected his bearers and dodged the bullets of rebel sharpshooters who had failed to kill them.

Old Abe died on March 26, 1881, of smoke inhalation in the loving arms of his handler when, it has been said, he was reminiscing with his old militia pals while smoking a fine cigar and sipping a brandy. I might be distorting the truth here a bit but it was reported that one time he did get drunk on some peach brandy that was left unattended in his presence. “Go War Eagle!”

Today, a likeness of Old Abe, the original War Eagle, can be found at the main entrance to University of Wisconsin’s Camp Randall Stadium.

And that my friend, is the true story of the one and only War Eagle!

Go Badgers!

The Gangsters of Wildlife, or a Diety?


The Prairie Wolf and Biological Warfare:

When Lewis and Clark first saw a coyote in 1804, they thought it was a fox but then corrected themselves and William Clark finally called it a prairie wolf.

In 1823 naturalist, Thomas Say officially described the prairie wolf as Canis latrans, barking dog, which has been the recognized scientific name ever since.

Most of us are familiar with the cartoon, Wylie Coyote, where he tries his hardest to catch the Road Runner but is always unsuccessful. That is about all that the coyote has been unsuccessful at doing in spite of man’s efforts for over 100 years to eradicate him from this earth.

To the many Indian tribes of the Great Plains down to the Southwest all the way up to Oregon, Old Man Coyote was known as the Trickster and a deity, that saved the buffalo from a monster, invented fires and helped shape the world. But to the cattlemen and sheep ranchers, they are considered parasites and they launched a fierce battle that still rages today to wipe the coyotes out.

The first government agency saddled with the job of taking care of the coyote problem, was the Bureau of Biological Survey(BBS). Don’t you think this is a great acronym for a government agency? The original target of BBS and the ranchers was the gray wolf and they were almost successful in wiping every wolf off the planet. Their recipe to achieve this included biological warfare and strychnine was the weapon of choice. They found that they could kill over 300 coyotes in a little over a week with the use of strychnine. But Montana officials rose, or should I say, stooped, to another level when they introduced sarcotic mange to coyotes. Mange is a parasitic mite that causes hair loss and inflammation.  It is a miserable condition that causes itching and pain that eventually will cause the death of wild coyotes and foxes. Our government’s policy has and still seems to be that predatory animals no longer have a place in our civilization.

Like buffalo skulls and exotic bird plumage, predator pelts were in high demand and it is estimated that hunters, called wolfers, killed hundreds of thousands of coyotes on the Great Plains in the mid-1800’s.

In 1871, when Horace Greeley told R. L. Sanderson to, “Go West!” he didn’t tell him that he would encounter an animal that was as smart or smarter than he was, the coyote. Anglo-Americans were unfamiliar with the coyote and didn’t know if it was a wolf, a fox, a bobcat or something else. What they were to find out is that he possesses all the same traits as humanity, the good and the bad and that he was truly a cunning force to reckon with.

They possess a trait similar to what some humans attempt to achieve through Autogenic Training, the ability to adjust to a stressful environment and survive. This trait allows them to assess the environment around them. If they sense plentiful resources, they will produce large litters of pups, if not, their litters are much smaller.

Why is this important? Well, as the cattle and sheep ranchers of the west were busy eradicating the wolf population, the coyotes were quietly replacing them until their population was estimated to be in the millions.

In addition to the biological warfare, the ranchers employed firearms, dogs, and traps. That along with market hunting, which was later to be outlawed, they were on the way to the eradication of the barking dog.

But wait, it seemed almost impossible to even thin out this trickster, the coyote. As the saying goes, it’s time to get out of Dodge and that is what they did. The coyote started to move to different locales and, like humans, they are very adept at adapting to their new surroundings.

Coyotes represent one of the most successful colonization stories of any animal in North America. In less than 70 years, they had spread to almost all habitats within the US and now they live just about everywhere imaginable to even include your backyard. Coyotes begin looking for a den sometime in March or April, and usually do not use the den again from one year to the next.

Coyotes seek out the type of prey that will give them the greatest reward with minimal risk of injury to themselves.  As a result, their favored prey include small mammals such as rabbits, mice, rats, and squirrels, as well as human-produced food such as garbage, cat or dog food.  Coyotes also eat insects,fruits, and berries.

From coast to coast they’ve become a fact of life in American cities. They howl in downtown Atlanta, Washington D. C., Chicago, Beverly Hills and just about every city in America. Coyotes now born and raised in cities prefer to live in cities just like humans.

Studies have found that the coyotes in the northeastern US differ from their western cousins.  As coyotes migrated east across the continent, they encountered whatever remained of wolves and some interbreeding occurred.  Coyotes in the northeastern United States outweigh their western cousins by 20 – 30 lbs and have more wolf-like physical traits. Urban coyotes do not feast on pets and garbage; they typically stick to a natural diet and prefer living in parks, preserves, cemeteries, and other out-of-the-way areas as much as possible. The food available in these locations is rodents, reptiles, fallen fruit and other food items that are part of a natural diet.Coyotes, of course, take feral cats or the occasional domestic cat that has been left outdoors. However, pets are not primary prey for them. A study by Urban Coyote Research Program analyzed over 1,400 scats and found that “the most common food items were small rodents (42%), fruit (23%), deer (22%), and rabbit (18%).” Only about 2 percent of the scats had human garbage and just 1.3 percent showed evidence of cats.

Probably the best-known trickster ever, Richard Nixon, banned the federal use of poisons for predator control in 1972. Like the wild horses and burros and the buffalo eradication, coyote control has been in the middle of the culture wars for years.

Between 2006 and 2011, hunter’s have killed over 500,000 coyotes nationwide.

For every coyote killed, another rat lives.

Try Getting a Concealed Carry Permit For This Gun

Punt Gun
Punt Gun

Before we had the debate over banning the AR-15, we had the Punt Gun. The what? Try sneaking that past Homeland Security.

The Punt Gun could be 11’ long and weigh in excess of 250 pounds and discharged over a pound of shot and was capable of killing from fifty to one hundred birds at a time. The reason I say could be 11’ long is because no gun manufacturer wanted to make one. So most were crude sturdy hand-built muzzle loaders fired with percussion caps.

In the 1800’s, the market for fowl along with bird feathers(see the extinction of Florida’s egrets by Plumage hunters) used in the manufacture of lady’s stylish hats, made it very lucrative for hunters to bag as many birds as they could. To meet the demand, enterprising hunter’s developed extremely large bore, the diameter of the barrel, shotguns, some as large as 2” in diameter. They would mount them on a punt boat(thus, the name Punt Gun), also known as a small skiff, or sneaker boat, and head out to the lake to find some ducks or geese. They would aim the Punt Gun in the general direction of a flock of birds and pull the trigger. The guns were so powerful and the recoil generated so much force, that it would push the boats backward across the lake. They would then spend the rest of the day picking up the dead birds. To increase their efficiency, the hunters would ban together in groups of 6-10 boats so they could end up bagging over 500 birds in a day each with a single shot.

And to the surprise of many I’m sure, this practice of hunting with a Punt Gun depleted stocks of waterfowl. Thankfully, by the 1860’s most states banned the practice otherwise the only fowl or foul, we would see today would be at a baseball or basketball game.

In 1900, the Lacey Act was passed. This banned the transport of wild game across state lines, and the practice of market hunting was outlawed by a series of federal laws in 1918. By the mid-1900’s most states had banned the use of the Punt Gun, much to the relief of Donald and Daffy Duck. However, they better stay out of Great Britain as they still allow Punt Guns so long as the bore isn’t over 1.75” in diameter. This can still put a big hole in a little duck.

The Third In The Max Fly, Private Eye Series Is At The Publisher



Soon Blue Magic will be available to Max’s adoring public online and at your favorite bookstores as well as in the trunk of my car.

It’s 1960 and America is embarking on a new decade that will lay the foundation of change and turmoil on the American landscape. But one thing still remains greed and corruption and all that goes with it. Max Fly teams up with his free-wheeling partner, Hap Schultz, to assist Max’s long-time friend, Homicide Detective, Harry Marshall, in solving three murders in the beer capital of the world, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His investigation leads him to Atlanta, Georgia and into the underbelly of crime and corruption. Of course, in their free time along the way, Hap and Max lend their expertise and provide much-needed comfort to the sexually frustrated women they meet while dispensing with the distasteful and defective elements of society.


“The police knew who did it, but didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him.
“I asked her if she would like to get revenge on the low life bastard. She said she did.
“We found out he was from Macon, so one weekend we went down and paid him a visit. He lived in front of this cow pasture west of town off Highway 129 in a closed up gas station his family used to run. We snuck up on the place after dark. The screen door was swarming with flies. Inside, the place wreaked of stale smoke, rotten food and diesel fuel. In one corner stood a busted up cigarette machine. Above it hung a Rainbow Trout and a life-size cutout of Jayne Mansfield with an oil-stained hand imprint on her left breast. The cheap black and white linoleum floor was yellowed and stained and had chipped away against the far wall. The door to the bathroom was open and the lid to the rust stained toilet was up and dirty towels littered the floor. The mirror over the sink was cracked and dirty. An old condom machine was hanging on one corner of the wall. On the other side of the room was a counter made of cheap pine, and it bristled with splinters and rusted nail heads and an old cash register. Just the thought of that place makes me sick.
“He was sleeping in the back room on an old army cot. He was covered with a filthy sheet. A pile of soiled clothing lay by the side of the bed along with an empty Thunderbird wine bottle and a well used Playboy Magazine. He looked as filthy as the sheet and smelled worse. I never in my life saw a place as filthy as the one he was living in, not even one of the Mason’s flop houses in downtown Atlanta.

You can order your copy of this book at:

Sky Dogs – A Blackfoot Legend As told by He-Who-Loves-Horses

Shawnee meets shaman - Version 2


One of the major misconceptions about Indians is that they were  a race of horsemen. The Indians of the Southwest region were the Indians that were first mounted on horses, in the early 1600s. And in this region, the Navajo, Apache, and Comanche were tribes regarded as being  mounted.
The favorite of the 1950’s television and western movies was the Apache, and they were actually regarded as very poor horsemen. They enjoyed eating them as much as riding them and they usually fought their battles on foot.
The Comanche and other Plains tribes were horse-oriented tribes the movies in Hollywood depicted. Most of those tribes didn’t get the horse until the mid to late 1700s.
The Navajo raised domestic animals for meat and clothing. They employed their ponies for tending sheep and cattle as they were pastoralists and herdsmen.
It was thought that for thousands of years the Indian survived without the horse. It was only after the white man introduced the horse to the Indian that they began to use them in any sense.
However, archeologists today think the horse originated on the North American continent and migrated to Asia about 20,000 years ago and became extinct on the North American Continent.
Most Indian tribes say their tribe has always been here, so who can say whether or not their ancestors didn’t have a relationship with the horse more than 20,000 years ago, long before the white men reintroduced them to this continent?

So, here is the story…


When the horses first appeared to the Blackfeet people, they thought the strange animals were dogs sent as a gift from the sky from Old Man, creator of all things.

A long, long time ago we had to walk and walk from sky to sky, from camp to camp. Our dogs carried our rawhide bags and pulled our travois sleds. We walked so much that we wore out many moccasins going across the plains.
All of a sudden, one day, coming from Old Man’s sleeping room, west of the mountains, we saw some strange looking beasts. They were as big as elk and they had tails of straw. Lying across the backs of these beasts were two Kutani men. One beast was pulling a travois sled. We became afraid because we did not understand.
My best friend, Jumps-Over-the-Water hid behind his mother’s skirt. The bravest of all of us known as Running Bear ran behind the nearest tipi to hide. I was so frightened I could not move. I was away from the safety of my father’s tipi. The men in our tribe yelled that we were not to be afraid – that we were the mighty Piegans who took the land away from the Kutani.
As I looked around I saw that they were afraid. They all had big eyes and four of them had their hunting bows aimed.
Then our chief Long Arrow laughed. He said, “These are from Old Man. They are a gift like the elk, antelope, buffalo and bighorn sheep they are called Sky Dogs”.
Now Long Arrow was very smart because he had walked around the Earth seven times from the Porcupine Hills down to the mouth of the Yellowstone. Everyone became quiet and trusted his knowledge. We waited for the Sky Dogs to reach our camp. We waited bravely with our sacred herb, nawak’osis, ready for smoking.
When they reached our camp we saw that there were two Kutani men and a Kutani woman in the travois sled. We took the three ill Kutani in but the medicine man could do nothing for the men. They died before they could tell us about the Sky Dogs and how they came to be from Old Man.
We took care of the beasts. We fed them dried meat as we fed our dogs. We threw sticks to make them fetch. One Sky Dog ran away. Some say he went back to Old Man. Some say that the coyote got him. The two that stayed showed us they like to eat grass.
Running Bear came away from his tipi and Jumps-Over-the-Water left his mother’s skirt. No one was afraid anymore.
I went up to the smallest Sky Dog. I touched him gently from hoof to mane. I felt his soft, warm skin. He did not flicker. He did not move. I pressed my face close against his face. He still did not move. Long Arrow smiled at me and gave me the name- He-Who-Loves-Horses.
The Kutani woman grew well, married my father and we lived in the tipi as a family. She sang to us the story of the Sky Dogs and her people. I learned how to mount and to comb the mane with a bone comb. And I learned how to ride into battle.
From this, I earned a place in the Council of Warriors.

Unsolved: The Masked Marvel Murder Mystery



The original Masked Marvel’s  secret identity was never revealed. He fought crime with the help of a trio of assistants known as ZL, ZR, and ZY. He operated out of a glass-domed mountaintop headquarters. He had a number of gadgets and weapons, such as an amphibious airplane, a paralyzing ray gun and a televisor, a video device which let him see anywhere in the world.The Masked Marvel debuted in 1939, on the pages of Keen Detective Funnies #7. Keen Detective Funnies, for some reason, began with Vol. 1 #8 (July 1938). The character continued to appear as the feature in Keen Detective Funnies until the 24th issue.

My maternal grandfather’s cousin, Gunard Hjerstedt, whose pen name was Day Keene, wrote noir detective novels, as well as the scripts for many radio soap operas, one of which was Kitty Keene, Inc., a female private eye, that ran from 1937-1941, published the Keen Detective Funnies. Okay, he didn’t have anything to do with the Keen Detective Funnies. The question is, though, who was the Masked Marvel? A better question would be, whatever happened to the Masked Marvel? First of all, the man who played the Masked Marvel was the son of Massachusetts Lt. Governor, Gaspar Bacon. His grandfather was Secretary of State under President Theodore Roosevelt and Ambassador to France during the Taft administration. His name was David Bacon and evidently someone copped his bacon. His life came to an end on September 13, 1943, when he weaved his Austin sedan  down Washington Blvd. in Venice, CA, just missing a telephone pole before jumping the curb near the corner of Thatcher St. and plowing into a bean field. He stumbled out of the car wearing nothing but a swimsuit and he collapsed and died. A knife wound was discovered in his back. Witnesses to the  crash claimed to have seen a passenger in the car. Two others claimed to have seen a man and a woman. The Masked Marvel was only 29 years old.

A crucial clue was left behind at the crash scene. A camera that was found inside Bacon’s car. The film in the camera was developed to reveal one picture of Bacon nude smiling on the beach and it’s been theorized that the photo was taken by his killer. Prior to his death, Bacon had told his wife—an Austrian cabaret singer named Greta Keller—that he was going for a swim. Shortly before the murder, Bacon was spotted driving around with another man in his car, and it was later discovered that Bacon had recently rented a house for a male friend whose identity was never established. Keller has always alleged that her husband was a closet homosexual and had an affair with Howard Hughes, the man who originally discovered him. However, none of these claims have ever been substantiated. Bacon’s killer was never caught, The Masked Marvel Murder Mystery remains unsolved. Today, all files pertaining to the case have been destroyed.

His assistants, ZL, ZR, and ZY were never seen nor heard from again(just kidding, here).

Where Is Jane Fonda When You Need Her?

Shot down and captured in 1965.
Shot down and captured in 1965. Captain David Hrdlicker


Vietnam War – What’s Disgusting Is Our Government’s Inaction After 1975.

As our government argues about transgender toilets, we have some GIs from the Vietnam War unaccounted for.

It has been over forty years since the end of the Vietnam War and over 21,000 reports of American prisoners, missing and otherwise unaccounted for have been received by our government. Many of these reports document live American Prisoners of War remaining captive throughout Southeast Asia. According to news writer, Sidney Schanberg, there have been 1,600 firsthand live sightings of American
prisoners after the war.

A photograph was taken by a US spy satellite in 1988, fifteen years after the US had ended its involvement in the war. It showed etched into a rice paddy, an enormous sign that contained the words ‘USA’ as well as a highly classified code, a ‘Walking K’ which would have only been known to US servicemen. It was built to be seen from the air, the ‘USA’ figures measuring 37.5 feet wide and 12.5 feet long.

You can go to this website to see the years of frustration the wife of a POW, Captain David Hrdlicka, has endured as she attempted to receive word on the fate of her husband,  a POW. He was  seen alive in a picture being led around by the Pathet Lao near Sam Neua, Laos. The last known National Archive document indicating that he was alive – 1990 according to his wife.

Due to the public’s demand to end the war, delayed release of the known POWs was not a risk that the administration decision makers were likely to take. No one informed the Congress or the American people that there were captives that had not been released from Southeast Asia and the country turned its back on the POWs in Laos. As the years passed from 1973, the fate of these individuals seemingly became less and less important. (Don Moody

Schanberg said,”But behind the scenes, President Nixon accused Hanoi of not returning a multitude of prisoners. In a private message on Feb. 2, 1973, Nixon said U.S. records showed 317 prisoners in Laos alone. “It is inconceivable,” he wrote, “that only 10 of these men” were being returned.
Hanoi stonewalled and never added any men to its prisoner list. Yet just two months later, Nixon did an about-face and claimed proudly on national television, “all of our American POWs are on their way home.” He had to know he was telling a terrible lie.”  Sydney Schanberg won a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting on the war in Indochina.

American servicemen in Vietnam were called upon to operate in dangerous circumstances and they were prepared to be wounded, killed or captured. It’s doubtful they thought they could be abandoned by the country they so proudly served.


When Detroit Surrendered to a foreign army

Detroit IIDetroit

Detroit has the distinction of being a city with nothing left to plunder because its political leaders have already laid it to waste, as is apparent by looking at the decay and dissolution of the city. Well,  Detroit was plundered for the first time in the Siege of Detroit, also known as the Surrender of Detroit. This battle gave Detroit the distinction of being the only U.S. city to surrender to a foreign army. It happened when it went by the name of Fort Detroit and even that name didn’t save it from defeat because it suffered from extremely poor leadership, leadership that would rival its managers of the last fifty years. This surrender happened on August 16,1812, and a drunken sot by the name of General William Hull  ordered his troops to hold their fire while he was hunkering down in a shelter, safe from enemy fire. Unfortunately for Fort Detroit, the Shawnee Indians were lead by a very formidable leader by the name of Tecumseh, who also possessed much wisdom. He said, “So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart”. He also had a pretty good rapport with a British General by the name of Isaac Brock, who led his British troops from Canada to Detroit. If General Hull would have crawled out of his hole long enough to observe what was happening, he would have realized that he had twice as many troops as the Indians and British combined. Instead, he waved a white tablecloth as a sign of truce and sent officers out to “accept the best terms which could be obtained.” It was surrender!

So the question people have is, “why did we want it back?”


Oh, the Detroit Lions have never won a Super Bowl.