Thursday, October 30, 2008

Love this Pic

Got this from Survival Chick's site.



Monday, October 20, 2008

THE OPEN BORDERS NETWORK: ILLEGAL ACCESS TO AMERICA

By Frosty Wooldridge
October 20, 2008
NewsWithViews.com

Ever wonder how millions of illegal aliens maintain their ability to remain inside the United States without fear of lawful deportation? How do they remain lawless while they enjoy impunity from our laws? How can so many organizations, that support illegals, thrive above the laws of our country?

“In a less than perfect world, the allocation of rights based on territory must be defended if a ruinous breeding race is to be avoided. It is unlikely that civilization and dignity can survive everywhere; but better in a few places than in none. Fortunate minorities act as the trustees of a civilization that is threatened by uninformed good intentions.” Garrett Hardin

In a brilliant expose’, Kevin Lamb wrote, “The Open Borders Network” in TheSocialContract.com, Volume XVIII, No. 4, Summer 2008, which shows how philanthropic foundations fund immigrant ethnic lobbies.

“No matter how actively engaged grassroots, patriotic Middle Americans are trying to individually register their views by writing their congressman or publishing letters to the editor of their local newspaper or casting a vote, in a pluralistic representative democracy such activities are no match for well-organized, open-borders network and ethnic-immigrant lobbies,” said Lamb. “Those who remain unorganized will eventually find themselves outmatched and politically outmaneuvered by well-organized adversaries.”

Thus, as you look across the American landscape in 2008, you hear “Press 1 for English” and “Press 2 for Spanish” at most businesses across this nation. You see entire classrooms taken over by Spanish speaking children while their mothers birth more children at taxpayer expense in local hospitals. Those children devour tax dollars with free breakfast and lunch programs. You don’t see it, but your tax dollars fund $436 billion annually for illegal alien migrants across 12 federal agencies.

William Hawkins and Erin Anderson, authors of “The Open Borders Lobby” said, “The concept of ‘open borders’ has long been an agenda of the left. Since the 1960s, a vast network including hundreds of organizations and tens of thousands of grassroots activists, backed by hundreds of millions of dollars from left-wing foundations, has waged a sustained campaign to open America’s borders to a mass migration from the Third World.”

Multiculturalists use mass immigration as a beachhead for undermining America’s sovereignty and usurp the assimilation process by breaking down traditional cultural barriers. In plain words, they expect to destroy America’s culture by degrading it into a menagerie of competing cultures. We’re watching a complete displacement of a successful culture by a plethora of failed cultures invading America’s heartland.

Back in 1972, a mere 70 immigration lawyers aided a handful of illegal aliens in fighting their deportation orders. Today, over 8,000 immigration lawyers aid and abet aliens while obstructing U.S. immigration laws in order to keep their illegal clients within the United States.

La Raza, “the race”, founded in 1968, and funded by the likes of the Ford Foundation founded by Edsel Ford, son of Henry Ford, advocates for separation by Hispanics in America. Its founding motto means, “For the Hispanic race, everything; for anyone outside the race, nothing!” Since its inception, American companies and even the U.S. government funded La Raza to the tune of $33,217,000.00 for their activities.

Those actions include reconquista or complete takeover of the four borders states neighboring Mexico. If not by outright revolution, they expect to repopulate Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California into Mexican dominance. One look at Texas and California shows their success appears imminent. While La Raza declares outright separation, MALDEF, LULAC, NLC and MECHA work for ways to dissolve the U.S.-Mexican border via more subtle means. They support dissolution of our borders deletetheborder.org.

In the meantime, Hungarian born multi-billionaire George Soros funds “The Open Society Institute” which proposes a borderless North America. He advocates for complete destruction of the United States Constitution and U.S. sovereignty. Worth over $9 billion, he backs up his plans with ample money.

If American citizens don’t know why their borders suffer invasion, they might look to the $82,389,000.00 spent by Ford Foundation, Soros, Wells Fargo, AT&T, Anheuser-Busch, Rockefeller Foundation, Washington Mutual and other organizations that methodically work toward ultimate vanquishing of the United States of America as a free and independent nation.



The Ford Foundation, AT&T, Wells Fargo, George Soros, Professor Luis Gutierrez of “If necessary, we must kill the white man.” fame, journalist Ruben Navarrette, Linda Chevez, Mayors Antonio Villaraigosa, John Hickenlooper, Bloomberg, Daly, Newsome and many other “Sanctuary City” advocates, Maine Governor Baldacci, House Representative Joe Baca, Chris Cannon, Senator John McCain, Senator Barack Obama, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, U.S. Senate leader Harry Reid, and the granddaddy of them all Senator Teddy Kennedy—all of them work toward the ultimate destruction of America’s sovereignty.



And you know something; they most certainly succeed faster and faster as the American public stands around sucking its thumb.

To take action:
www.numbersusa.com
www.fairus.org
www.proenglish.org
www.capsweb.org
www.vdare.com

Listen to Frosty Wooldridge on Tuesdays and Thursdays as he interviews top national leaders on his radio show “Connecting the Dots” at republicbroadcasting.org at 6:00 PM Mountain Time. Adjust tuning in to your time zone.

© 2008 Frosty Wooldridge - All Rights Reserved



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Frosty Wooldridge possesses a unique view of the world, cultures and families in that he has bicycled around the globe 100,000 miles, on six continents and six times across the United States in the past 30 years. His published books include: "HANDBOOK FOR TOURING BICYCLISTS" ; “STRIKE THREE! TAKE YOUR BASE”; “IMMIGRATION’S UNARMED INVASION: DEADLY CONSEQUENCES”; “MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE TO ALASKA: INTO THE WIND—A TEEN NOVEL”; “BICYCLING AROUND THE WORLD: TIRE TRACKS FOR YOUR IMAGINATION”; “AN EXTREME ENCOUNTER: ANTARCTIA.” His next book: “TILTING THE STATUE OF LIBERTY INTO A SWAMP.” He lives in Denver, Colorado.

Friday, October 10, 2008

on the road again

Will be heading to TX in a month or so. Not exactly where I was wantin' to head, but ya can't say no to a job offer. :)

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The term Hobo or Tramps

Hoboes sometimes are thought to be homeless, a clown or a bum. I wish to set you straight about the word hobo and related terms to a hobo such as a tramp or a bum.



Hobos they were called…a word with many meanings. The Latin words homo bonus means Good Man and might have been coined to make the word hobo. Some say that soldiers returning home from the Civil War needed to find work thus they traveled doing migratory agricultural work referring to them as “hoe boys” and later changed to hobo.



Tramps are often called hoboes or bums, but although all three are migrants, they are not the same thing. Ben L. Reitman, who tramped a good deal himself, remarked that a hobo works and wanders, a tramp dreams and wanders, and a bum drinks and wanders. Migratory workers, if they apply any of the terms to themselves, are more likely than not to say they are hoboes. (Quote is from the Story of American Railroads by Stewart H. Holbrook.)



The definition of a hobo that some of the hobo family of today use is:



A Hobo travels and works

A Tramp travels but won’t work

A Bum neither travels nor works (such as a home guard or homeless person)



Home guard in the hobo culture is a person who does not travel but stays put in the same area or town and won’t work. I don’t like the definition a tramp will travel but won’t work. In today’s hobo culture most of the people who ride the rails refer to themselves as Tramps. I recently asked a rail rider about their definition. This is what I was told:



A Hobo is our forefather who rode the rails

A Tramp is a brotherhood of people who ride the rails of today

A Bum is a person who has no tobacco



I like this definition best. It is more fitting of rail riders known as hoboes of today. Tramps do work at city markets unloading trucks; doing day labor temporary work such at a ball stadium, etc; and sometime if no work will fly a sign (pan handle) stating Traveling need help for food and personal provisions. The jobs a tramp usually gets are just for a few days and then they are back to riding the rails. It is an honor to be accepted to the brotherhood or sisterhood of the tramps. They are a tight caring group of people.



One tramp in particular comes to Kansas City and works as a brick mason and does beautiful work during the summer and then moves on during the winter months.



There is another type person who rides the rails who does not fit the description above of a hobo or tramp. This person is dangerous and in some cases has been serial killers riding the rails and giving the hobos or tramps a bad name. A good example was Ramirez the Mexican riding the rails a few years ago robbing and killing people in their homes. He is now on death row. His publicity of riding the rails harmed the good name of a hobo or tramp. Unfortunately today there are several people who ride the rails who are there only to rob or kill hobos. The old hobo glossary from years ago would term this class of people who robbed or were bad as yeggers.



Today there are several Mexican fleeing their country for America. They are not considered hobos but a person who has selected to ride the rails to get to their destination.



In the book The Alabama Hobo by Horace Hampton, SR. who rode the rails at one point in his life gives definition.



A few words need to be written to acquaint the reader with the definition of a hobo. It has been said that the word hobo is shortened term for “hoe boy”. Many years ago the hoe boys were migrant farm workers who followed the seasonal crops and worked on farms, orchards or vineyards until the season was over and then they moved on to other work. The farm owners would speak of them as hoe boys and eventually the word “hobo”. A hobo is different from a bum, tramp, or wino. He is an itinerant worker who satisfies his wanderlust to be free.



Hobo from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia



Hobo is a term that refers to a subculture of wandering homeless people, particular those who make a habit of hopping freight trains. The iconic image of a hobo is that of a downtrodden, shabbily-dressed and perhaps drunken male, one that was solidified in American culture during the Great Depression. Hobos are often depicted carrying a bindle and/or a sign asking for money. Bindle stiff is an alternative term for hobo.



The hobo imagery has been employed by entertainers to create wildly successful characters in the past, two of them being Emmett Kelly’s “Weary Willy” and Red Skelton’s “Freddy the Freeloader”.



Hobos, themselves seem to differentiate themselves as travelers who are willing to do work, whereas a “tramp” will travel but will not work and a “bum” will do neither.



Author Todd DePastino has suggested that it may come from the term hoe-boy meaning “farmhand”, or a greeting such as Ho, boy! Bill Bryson suggests in Made in America that it could either come from the railroad greeting, “Ho, beau!” or a syllabic abbreviation of “homeward bound”. Others have said that the term comes from the Manhattan intersection of HOuston and BOwery, where itinerant people once used to congregate.



Still another theory of the term’s origins is that it derives from the city of Hoboken, New Jersey, which was a terminus for many railroad lines in the 19th century. The word “hobo” may also be a shortening of the phrase which best describes the early hobo’s method of transportation, which was “hopping boxcars” or of the phrase “homeless body”.



HISTORY



It is unclear exactly when hobos appeared on the American railroading scene. With

The end of the American Civil War in the mid 19th Century, many soldiers looking to return home took to hopping freight trains. Others looking for work on the American frontier followed railroads westward aboard freight trains in the late 19th Century.



The population of hobos increased greatly during the Great Depression era of the 1930s. With no work and no prospects at home, many decided to travel for free via freight trains and try their luck elsewhere.



Nowadays there are very few railroad-riding hobos left. Some itinerant individuals today travel by car rather than rail, but still identify themselves as hobos.



Life as a hobo was dangerous one. In addition to the problems of being itinerant, poor, far from home and support, and the hostile attitude of many train crews, the railroads employed their own security staff, often nicknamed bulls, who had a reputation for being rough with trespassers. Also, riding on a freight train is a dangerous enterprise. One can easily fall under the wheels; get trapped between cars, or freeze to death in bad weather. When freezer cars were loaded at an ice factory, any hobo inside was likely to be killed. Hobos tended to band together for protection and formed an informal “brotherhood”.



Knight of the road is a person who rides the rails known as a hobo or tramp.



Flintstone Kids are the young kids who run away from home to ride the rails. Several of the kids have tattoos and body piercing. Some hobos call them road kids.



Road Kids are young kids riding the rails today and also during the Great Depression.



Recreation Hobo Rail Rider is a person who lives in a dwelling (house or apartment) and works. He or she uses their vacation time from work to ride the rails. Sometimes the person is retired from work and rides the rails on occasion.



Hobo at Heart is a person who has the passion to want-to-be a hobo but realizes it is too dangerous to ride the rails. He or she loves to hear hobo stories and music.



Friend of the hoboes is a person who participates in the National Hobo Convention or Hobo Gatherings keeping the hobo history alive.

What makes a modern day hobo?




Former hobo king, Iron Horse Brad, has held his share of jobs, but love of the road brought him to Britt.



What makes a modern day hobo?




Of the News-Tribune

While hanging out down at the Hobo Jungle I heard someone comment, “These aren't hobos!” after they asked if I could point out a hobo for them to photograph.

I don't know what they expected a hobo to look like, but it did get me to thinking - what makes a hobo and why do they choose this lifestyle.

The hobos visiting the yearly convention in Britt are certainly not the traveling workers of the 1930s, driven by necessity to hop a train to the next job.

Many of today's hobos have never ridden the rails at all, preferring to travel by car or bus. Many have jobs or are retired. These “hobos at heart,” as some like to call themselves, feel the pull of the lifestyle and just like to commune with kindred spirits.


“I grew up with trains and Mom used to feed hobos. I had an uncle that was a hobo,” said Brad “Iron Horse Brad” Villars. “I doubt there is anyone living here that doesn't have a relative who's been a hobo. During the Depression everyone was looking for work.”

Iron Horse Brad, who hails from Indiana, was National Hobo King from 2005 -2006. He has been coming to the Britt convention for 22 years, ever since being invited by hobo patriarch Steamtrain Maury Graham.

“In the Depression men traveled to work, now they work to travel,” he said, adding that not everyone at the Jungle agreed with his assessment.

“We're just family. In a true sense the people here are not hobos, but we're as close as you're going to get,” Iron Horse said. “We're trying to keep a tradition going.”

Iron Horse, who just turned 69, said he has picked apples in Washington, dug ditches in Arkansas and drove a semi.



“It's just the travel . I enjoyed hitchhiking, you can see things you can't see traveling 70 miles-per-hour on the road,” he said.

“As long as there are trains running someone is gonna get on it,” Iron Horse said. “Until they pull the rails up there will be a rail rider somewhere..”

Almost, if not all, the real hobos are gone now, the ones who had the wanderlust so bad it wouldn't let them settle down.

In October 1966 The Pennsylvania Kid was quoted as saying, “The docs tell me I got the wanderlust. It's a disease, like alcoholism. I gotta keep moving. Why, I can go coast to coast on a piece of toast - get it?”

Betty “Connecticut Shorty” Moylan, who lives part-time in Britt, understands the above sentiment all too well.

She was just a little girl when her father left them, but she said her siblings and herself never thought too much about it. “We were just normal kids without a father,” she said.

She had the opportunity to reunite with her father when she was 38 years-old and had a family of her own.

“I saw an article, ‘Last real hobo calls it quits,'” she said. The story was about her father and his 44 years on the road.

She said she and her father were friends for over 10 years until his death in February 1990.

She had met Steamtrain the previous year and had already promised him that when it came time she would send her father's ashes to Britt.



Moylan and her sister, Maggie “New York Maggie” Malone, who made the trip to Britt for the first time in August 1990, were welcomed into the hobo community by all their father's friends and they finally understood what being a hobo meant.

“They are people who are different, they need to travel, it's a calling,” Shorty said. “They can't live a conventional lifestyle. That was probably the biggest problem between my father and mother.”

Once the sisters retired they embraced the hobo lifestyle.

“It's the last free adventure in America. It's the wanderlust, the spirit of adventure, to hop a freight train. Sometimes you know where it is going and sometimes you don't,” Shorty said with a broad smile. “It's risky and it's illegal and you can get hurt, but it is still a great adventure.”

Some folks were led to the hobo, or nomadic, lifestyle - not because they were looking for work, but because they had so many opportunities it was hard to stay in just one place.

That's the way it was for Karl “Tramp Printer” Schwede, 72 of California.

“I traveled from one side of the United States to the other from early 1950 through the 1970s,” he said.

“I was with the Topographical Union and worked at papers in San Francisco, St. Louis and the New York Times. I could do that because I had a trade,” Tramp Printer said proudly.

An excerpt from the book Tramp Printers by John Howells and Marion Dearman (Discovery Press, copyright 1996, 2003), reads, “Rarely if ever in the history of work and labor has a group of craftsmen enjoyed as much freedom, dignity, and mobility as those engaged in the art of printing.

To properly master the art of printing-after finishing several years of apprenticeship-it was almost obligatory to journey from one shop to another, from one town to another, even between countries.

Jobs and opportunities expanded with each new printshop established. Printers knew they were in demand and were tempted to change jobs frequently, knowing they could travel from place to place with ease, that their skills were always in demand.”

“Ones who never settled in one place were called tramps. If I was working somewhere and didn't like it, I'd move,” Tramp Printer said. “Then automation came in and wiped us all out in the 1980s. I've been retired 10 years, but I had a good life.”

With the advent of computers and software in the 1960s the relationship between printers and newspapers began to change until abruptly, in the latter half of the 20th century, their skills were no longer needed.

The International Typographical Union, which had been the oldest, the strongest, the most active labor union in the history of the American labor movement, folded after 134 years and faded into history.

The way of the hobo isn't so very different, except there are those who don't believe this unique part of American history should be allowed to die.

Tramp Printer read about the National Hobo Convention in Britt in National Geographic over 25 years ago and wanted to see for himself what it was all about.

Knowing that he had found folks like himself he has been returning to Britt off and on over the years.

According to Fran DeLorenzo, also known as The Hobo Minstrel and the Grand Duke of cyberspace, there are a lot of different ideas of what makes a person a Hobo.

However, the consistent theme relates to independence and traveling around the county, no matter the method.

“A dysfunctional family situation has put youngsters on the road and other unfortunate circumstance has made a hobo out of many men,” DeLorenzo wrote.

Many hobos who traveled from job to job throughout the 1930s settled back into a routine life after the economy picked back up - others didn't.

Today there are many people who feel more comfortable on the road and away from mainstream society and one by one they all seem to find their way to Britt each year.

Story created Aug 19, 2008 - 10:12:52 CDT.

Riding the rails ::with Hood River Blackie‏

this is from the winter of 1980)Hobo Camps and JunglesFOR over a hundred years the hobo has loved,laughed and died in track-side camps called jungles.These Range in size from a small rock-enclosed fire place under a lone tree,to huge jungles like the one at Mattoon,Illinois where the big four railroad running west crossed the Illinois Central which ran north and south. Or the big jungles on the shores of Lake Champlain at Burlington,Vermont where the lumberjacks used to come in each spring and jungle up along the Rutland railroad while waiting for jobs in the woods.There were many kinds of jungles. Some were permanent and well known,some only temporary during the harvest,and some a little of both.One of the big permanent jungles, perhaps the the best known, was the mile-long jungle on the Americian River at Sacramento, California. In this big jungle one could see all sorts of shacks,and all sorts of cooking methods from a couple of forked sticks with a third stick stretched between them to hang a pot on,to washtubs with a hole cut out of the side for draft and even in some instances an old wood stove dragged in from a nearby dump.There were lonley little jungles in the lonley places frequented by few hoboes,mostly old timers. Such a jungle is the one located a couple hundreds yards east of the old depot at Avery,Idaho along the main line Milwaukee railroad. The St.Joe River which ran beside it furnished not only water but darn good fishing.Probably the most unusual jungle and only one of its kind in Americia was the jungle on Mrs. Childs` estate in Santa Barbara,California.Here the wealthy socialite allowed old-time hoboes to build cabins and shacks under the trees on her property. She had electricity and water piped out to the old cabins for the convenience of the hoboes who stayed there.This jungle was strictly for old-time hoboes ; winos,thieves and other undesirable characters were not allowed to stay there.Every Christmas she used to send her butler out to the camp with a handful of $5.00 bills,each hobo there got $5.00 as a Christmas gift. The butler,obviously caring very little for hoboes and their life styles,hated the job.I don`t really know what prompted her to do so much for them but legend has it that that one time a hobo saved her small child from drowning.I don`t know if this is true or not but I`ve heard the same story by many of the old-timers.A few years ago Mrs.Childs died but she made a provision in her will for the care and upkeep of the old jungle on her place.Recently I learned that the will was broken up and the jungle is no more.There have been quite a few people around the country seemingly in sympathy with the hobo.A rancher near Coachella,California for many years allowed hoboes to camp in a grove of tamarisk trees on his property.A rancher near Winters,California had a couple of old shacks and a jungle on the back of his property where any wanderer was welcome to stay as long as he wanted to .Here, too, water and electricity had been run out to the jungle.This rancher, Henry Smith,has long been known as the hobo`s friend and from my own experience is one of the finest human beings I`ve ever met. He even went so far as to buy hundred pound sacks of beans and potatoes,some coffee,grease, and flour,then take it to the jungle and tell the boys to help themselves. He is also well knownhis unusual practice of climbing in his private plane,taking off from a dirt strip behind his house and flying perhaps as far as two hundred miles to pick up some old hobo friend and fly him back to the ranch.If he knew you all it took was a phone call.THERE was another kind of jungle(the ones I call secret jungles) which even the police didn`t seem to have heard about.The one at Mojave,California was located in a sort of hole half a mile from the Southern Pacific tracks.This jungle, well known to the old-timers had a small seep spring of good water and a few small bushes for shade, as no hobo likes a baldheaded jungle(meaning a jungle with no shade).There is ,or was ,another such jungle twenty miles east of Yuma,Arizona near what the hoboes call the Dome Valley siding on the Southern Pacific.Here also was a small spring,an old car hood suspended from a tree by wires for a table, a washtub so as to form a stove, a couple of old army cots and buckets seats.Another kind of jungle is what I would calla harvest jungle where for most of the year therewere hardly any hoboes or perhaps none at all but at harvest time they were there in droves.Such a jungle was located along the Milwaukee main line in Mitchell,South Dakota. Many years ago before combines came into general use,during the grain harvest there might be as amny as a thousand hoboes jungled up along the tracks waiting for the work to start.Of course,not all were real hoboes. Some were farm boys from distant towns out to make a few dollars. Some might be out-of-work factory hands,cowboys,miners,and just all sorts of of people who needed to make a few dollars.There would also be a few jack rollers (robbers), and some Eastern street bums who came there to bum the working men.Chicken Red once told me that these jack rollers would sometimes take a job in the harvest and then keep a sharp eye on his fellow workers to see who was saving his money.When he had chosen someone he felt had a big roll, he would either try to buddy up to the man so as to leave with him when the harvest was over or follow him when he left, or in some way get him alone,knock him in the head and take his money.Red told me that one year when he left the grain harvest at Mitchell a jack roller had followed him a thousand miles down the rails only to lose him in the big Hillard yards at Spokane.Bull Frog Blackie told me that a jack roller had cornered him more or less under a bridge at Miles City,Montana and threatened him with a small pen knife,Blackie whipped out his straight razor and gave the man a severe cut on his knife hand.That old razor now more than a hundred years old ,lies here on my table as I write this.Contrary to popular belief,other people besides the hobo used the jungles.I`ve seen more than one old cowboy laid back with his head on his saddle -- no horse, just a saddle. I`ve seen many a bedroll with the barrell of a battered winchester sticking out of it .Many a runaway kid came to the jungles and shared our stew and coffee. Nearly all of them I`m sure,after thinking things over returned home or in some cases were sent home by the local police.ONE THING that a lot of peoplemay not know is that there are hoboes buried in or near these jungles.Years ago Tex Medders showed me a patch of trees at Omaha,Nebraska that he said was a hobo graveyard. He didn`t know how many were buried there but he said he knew of three,for sure.All had died of natural causes and had been buried by their pals.Many years ago I personally saw Baby Buggy John laid to rest under a big cottonwood treein the jungle.He had died in his sleep no more than ten feet from me.I had wanted to call the police or undertaker or somebody,but was quickly vetoed by the older men who rustled up a shovel from somewhere and planted him.The only words said over the grave were by old Tex Medders who had known him sixty years.As we left the spot with our gear on our backs Tex tipped his old battered stetson and said simply"So Long John".Now I have a riual that I go through each springwhich might seem foolish to some people but not to me since the old hoboes were very good to me when I was a kid with no place to go.I have told you about this before.I go to a five and 10 ten cent store and buy a bunch of plastic flowers. I visit the graves of as many of my old hobo friendsI can find and leave a plastic flower and a card that says "Hood River Blackie never forgets". Theres Cinnamon Bill and Crooked Nose Lloyd at Yuma;Black Swede and Siwash Johnson at Mina,Nevada;Tex Medders, The Panama Kid, and Mushfake Steele near Marysville,California;;Amboy Fats,Old Joe Bennett BugHouse McCan at Evertt Washington and many more about fifty in all.The grave of Baby Buggy John however has in recent years presented a problem. some rancher has built a fine brick home on the spot where our jungle used to be . His back yard is a beautiful lawn and near the back edge of it under the big cottonwood tree he has constructed a very nice brick bar-b-que.Under this brick bar-b-que lies Baby Buggy John.If that rancher should read these lines he will now understand why sometimes in the spring he finds a plastic flower with a card attached to it that says simply"Hood River Blackie never forgets",and since I have confessed to the deed I hope this rancher truly understands.The hobo jungles are about gone now, as are the hoboes who lived in the them.Many places can no longer be identified as ever having been a jungle.Some still contain blackened old cans or the remains of a small fireplaces.There are a couple, though,that look much as they did fifty years ago,with perhaps an old skillet or pot hanging from a tree and a little stacked up for the next user.Such a jungle is at Essex, Montana along the Great Northern track. Another is at Helper,Utah along the Denver and Rio Grande Western. these two are kept clean simply because a couple of old-time hoboes still spend some time there each summer.Not long ago on Television I saw An archeologist on the site of an anccient Indian village digiing in a trash heap he called a midden.He was uncovering fishhooks made of bone,obsidian arrowheads, and other little odds and ends which he said would tell him a lot about this vanished race.It made me wonder if perhaps a thousand years in the future,should the human race survive that long,another archeologist might dig up a hobo jungle.I wonder what he`d make of the wine bottle capsand sardine cans.

HOOD RIVER BLACKIES LAST STORY

(THIS IS FROM THE WINTER OF 1984`S OLD WEST MAGAZINE)MANY OF THE OLD-TIME HOBOES I KNEW DURING MY YEARS ON THE ROAD HAD SOME KIND OF TRADE THAT THEY WORKED AT TO MAKE A LIVING.BY HAVING A TRADE I DON`T MEAN THEY PUNCHED A TIME CARD AT SOME FACTORY.BIG TOWN GORMAN,WHO USED TO SHOW UP AT THE HOBO CONVENTION IN BRITT IOWA,EACH SUMMER,CARRIED A SATCHEL FULL OF TOOLS FOR SHARPENINGSCISSORS,KNIVES,OR SAWS,OR ABOUT ANYTHING THAT NEEDED SHARPENING.IN LATER YEARS EVEN HAD A SMALL ELECTRIC GRINDER AND WENT FROM DOOR TO DOOR IN THE LITTLE TOWNS AND SOME OF THE BIG ONES SHARPENING THINGS FOR A SMALL SUM.BIG TOWN ALWAYS HAD MONEY AND I DON`T THINK HE EVER BUMMED A CENT FROM ANYONE.HE WAS A HOBO PAINTER BILL,WHO ROAMED OVER THE WEST REPAINTING SIGNS OR PAINTING NEW ONES,WAS ANOTHER WHO MADE HIS OWN WAYHE WAS STRICTLY A FREIGHT TRAIN RIDDING HOBO BUT CARRIED A SMALL KIT WHICH LOOKED A LOT LIKE A DOCTORS BLACK BAG. INSIDE THE KIT WAS A VARIETY OF PAINTS BRUSHES AND SOME SORT OF OIL.EVEN TODAY IF YOU WERE TO GO TO WINTERS,CALIFORNIA AND LOOK CLOSELY AT SOME OF THE SIGNS IN TOWN YOU WOULD SEE DOWN IN ONE CORNER"PAINTER BILL"HE HAS BEEN GONE FROM THE LAND FOR QUITE A WHILE NOW,BUT HIS WORK IS STILL AROUND.HE TOO ALWAYS HAD MONEY AND NEVER BUMMED. AL THE ENGRAVER WAS IN FACT AN ENGRAVER AND A VERY GOOD ONE.HE CARRIED AROUND AN ENGRAVING KIT AND USED TO GO TO BARS ,CARNIVALS,FAIRS,AND PARKS WHERE HE WOULD ENGRAVE WATCHES OR MOST ANYTHING ANYONE WANTED ENGRAVED. HE DIDN`T NEED POWER TOOLS TO DO IT EITHER. WELL,THERE ARE STILL QUITE A FEW PEOPLE WHO SHARPEN SCISSORS AND KNIVES,AND PLENTY WHO PAINT SIGNS, AND ANY GOOD JEWELER CAN DO SOME ENGRAVING,BUT I AM PRETTY SURE THERE IS NOT ANOTHER HOBO MUSHFAKER LEFT IN THE COUNTRY.IN HOBO SLANG AN UMBRELLA WAS CALLED A MUSHROOM,AND A MUSHFAKEER WAS A MAN WHO MADE HIS LIVING MENDING UMBRELLAS,AND OF COURSE STORE AWNINGS,OR ANYTHING MADE OF CANVAS. BIG WALT STEELE WAS THE LAST OF THE MUSHFAKERS AS NEAR AS I CAN LEARN,AND I DON`T THINK THERE WILL EVER BE ANYMORE OF THEM AS THE STORES NOWADAYS DON`T HAVE AWNINGS,OR AT LEAST VERY FEW DO.THE OLD TIME PRACTICE OF GOING DOOR TO DOOR IN SOME STRANGE TOWN AND ASKING FOR UMBRELLAS TO MEND IS A THING OF THE PAST SINCE NOT MANY PEOPLE USE THEM,AND PEOPLE ARE FEARFUL OF ANY STRANGERS MEANDERING ALONG THEIR STREETS THAT THE LAW WOULD BE CALLED IF BY CHANCE A MUSHFAKER DID SHOW UP. I USED TO SEE MUSHFAKE STEELE WHEN I CAN TO WINTERS EACH SPRING TO THIN APRICOTS,AND OF COURSE RAN INTO HIM ONCE IN A WHILE ALONG THE RAILS OR IN SOME HOBO JUNGLE.HE WAS A HUGE BUT VERY PLEASANT MAN WHO SEEMED TO ALWAYS BE LAUGHING AT SOMETHING OR SOMEBODY.I NEVER KNEW HIM TO HAVE A REGULAR ROAD PARTNER,THOUGH HE DID AT TIMES TRAVEL WITH THE PANAMA KID OR OLD SMOKING JACKET.IN LATER YEARS, WHEN HE SEEMED TO BE THE ONLY MUSHFAKER IN THE LAND THE OTHER HOBOES CALLED HIM "THE MUSHFAKER" THIS WAS AN HONOR AND DENOTED THAT THERE WERE NO OTHERS.I CAN STILL SEE HIM SOMETIMES WHEN I DAYDREAM,WALKING ALONG AND CLOSELY STUDING ANY AWNINGS THAT WERE UNROLLED IN THE HOPES OF FINDING ONE THAT NEEDED REPAIR.WHEN HE FOUND ONE HE WOULD GO INTO THE STORE AND NEGOTIATE A DEAL WITH THE STOREKEEPER TO REPAIR IT .SOMETIMES HE WOULD PERSUADE A MERCHANT TO UNROLL HIS AWNING SO IT COULD BE EXAMINED FOR RIPS OR TEARS. WALT STEELE WAS A MASTER OF HIS TRADE AND MOST STOREKEEPERS WERE GLAD TO SEE HIM. HIS PET PEEVE WAS THE STORE OWNER WHO HAD AN AWNING WHICH WAS NEARLY TORN TO PIECES AND EXPECTED A MUSHFAKER TO FIX IT LIKE NEW WITHOUT ANY PATCHING MATERIAL.BECAUSE OF THIS,OLD WALT USED TO PICK AROUND IN THE DUMPS FOR PIECES OF CANVAS THAT WERE STRIPED LIKE STORE AWNINGS USUALLY WERE.WHEN HE FOUND SOME HE WOULD CARRY IT WITH HIM TO USE FOR PATCHES.AT TIMES WHEN HE WOULD HIT IT LUCKY, HE WOULD GET THE JOB OF PUTTING ON A WHOLE NEW AWNING AND WAS CAPABLE OF SEWING ONE OUT OF A NEW PIECE OF CANVAS WITHOUT ANY PATTERNS OR ADVICE FROM ANYONE. ALOT OF US HOBOES USED TO GO TO A SMALL HOBO JUNGLE JUST OUTSIDE OF WILCOX, ARIZONA AFTER THE APPLE HARVEST EACH YEAR WHICH WAS IN WASHINGTON AND OREGON,AND WE WOULD CAMP UNDER SOME OLD TREES ALONG THE MAINLINE SOUTHERN PACIFIC,JUST RESTING UP AFTER OUR HARVEST WORK.MUSHFAKE STEELE WOULD OFTEN BE THERE BECAUSE HE TO WENT UP NORTH AND MADE SOME MONEY PICKING APPLES.I`VE SEENHIM SEWING UP A PACK SACK FOR SOME OLDRAIL STIFF,AS THEY WERE CALLED,OR EVEN STITCHING A TORN SHOE FOR SOME GUY WHO MAYBE DID`NT HAVE THE MONEY TO BUY SHOES.HE WOULD NOT CHARGE ANOTHER HOBO FOR HIS WORK.MANY OF THE GUYS HE HELPED OUT WOULD PAY HIM BACK BY INVITING HIM TO EAT WITH THEM OR SHARE A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY,WHICH HE WAS ALWAYS GLAD TO DO.ONE YEAR THE OLD DESERT PROSPECTOR AND SOMETIMES HOBO,MULE TRAIN SMITH WAS PUTTING TOGETHER AN OUTFIT FOR A LONG HAUL ACROSS THE SOUTHERN PART OF ARIZONA,ACROSS THE BORDER INTO MEXICO,AND UP INTO THE WILD SIERRA MADRE MOUNTAINS WHERE HE WOULD SEARCH FOR THE LOST SPANISH MISSION OF TAYOPA.OLD MULE TRAIN HAD MADE MANY TRIPS INTO THAT WILD LAND,ALWAYS WITH A COUPLE OF BURROS AND CANVAS PACKS TIED ON PACK SADDLES WITH WHAT HE CALLED A DIAMOND HITCH. THE TIME I AM TALKING,MULE TRAIN HAD TO MAKE SOME CANVAS BAGS AS SOMEONE HAD FOUND THE ONES HE HAD HIDDEN THE YEAR BEFORE AND MADE OFF WITH THEM.HE FOUND AN OLD TORN TARP,WHICH I GUESS CAME OFF A SEMI-TRUCK AND HE AND MUSHFAKE STEELE WERE MAKING THE PACKS.MUSHFAAKE HAD ALL SORTS OF NEEDLES IN ALL SHAPES BUT HIS MAINSTAY WAS A THING HE CALLED A LEATHER AWL,IT HAD A BIG WOODEN HANDLE WHICH OPENED UP AND WAS HOLLOW. INSIDE WERE SEVERAL FUNNY LOOKING NEEDLES AND A SMALL TOOL FOR INSTALLING THEM IN THE SHAFT,AND JUST BELOW A SPOOL WHICH HELD WHAT I BELIEVE WAS SHOEMAKER`S TWINE.TWO FINE PACKS WERE MADE AND A COUPLE OF BELTS BOUGHT IN A SECONDHAND STORE SERVED AS STRAPS TO TIE THEM SHUT.I WONDERED WHAT MUSHFAKE WOULD CHARGE FOR TEH SEVERAL HOURS WORK HE HAD DONE BUT WHEN OLD MULE TRAIN TRIED TO PAY HIM HE JUST GRINNED AND SAID"IF YOU MAKE THAT BIG STRIKE BRING ME A GOLD NUGGET".THE NEXT EVENING A BUNCH OF US WERE SITTING AROUND A CAMPFIRE AS HOBOES WILL DO,DISCUSSING EVERYTHING FROM CABBAGES TO KINGS, WHEN MUSHFAKE REMARKED HE WOULD LIKE TO GET A HOLD OF A SMALL PISTOL,THIS WAS NOT AN UNUSUAL REMARK AS MANY OF US PACKED PISTOLS,AND ONE OR TWO EVEN A SHOTGUN OR RIFLE,DISMANTELED AND STORED IN OUR BEDROLL.MULE TRAIN WENT OVER TO HIS PACKS AND CAME BACK WITH A SMALL .25 AUTOMATIC WHICH HE HANDED TO MUSHFAKE AND SAID "HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?".MUSHFAKE LOOKED IT OVER AND SAID "HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT FOR IT ?" MULE TRAIN SAID"IT`S YOURS AND IF I MAKE THAT BIG STRIKE YOU STILL GET THE NUGGETT".OLD MUSHFAKE CARRIED THE GUN FOR YEARS,BUT I DON`T THINK HE EVER HAD TO USE IT.HE JUST HAD IT FOR SECURITY AND I SUSPECT BECAUSE IT HAD BELONGED TO AN OLD PAL. THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM WAS ON THE STREET IN MARYSVILLE,CALIFORNIA,NEAR "JOE`S BAGGAGE CHECK NUMBER TWO" AND HE WAS ON CRUTCHES WITH BOTH LEGS SWOLLEN BADLY FROM SOME DISEASE WHICH I DON`T RECALL THE NAME OF.HE WAS LIKE THE SAME OLD WALT WITH A BIG GRIN.AND SEEMED TO STILL LOOK UPON LIFE AS A FUN THING.BUT I NOTICED THE EYES DIDN`T DANCE WITH MERRIMENT AS THEY ONCE HADAND THE FACE SHOWED THE YEARS AND MILES MORE THAN IT EVER HAD.I TALKED TO HIM A WHILE THEN WENT ON MY WAY TO OREGON. MUSHFAKE DIED IN AN OLD SHACK BEHIND A BAR IN MARYSVILLE FEW MONTHS AFTER I TALKED TO HIM.SOCIETY WOULD CALL HIM A TRAMP OR A HOBO OR MAYBE EVEN A BUM,BUT HE MADE HIS OWN WAY IN LIFE,ASKING NOTHING BUT THE CHANCE TO WORK AT HIS TRADE AND TRAVEL THE LAND.HE WAS ALWAYS KIND AND HELPFUL TO EVERYONE AND DID HIS SHARE OF CAMP CHORES WHEN CAMPED WITH OTHERS. THOUGH HE AND I WERE NOT REAL CLOSE LIKE SOME HOBOES GET TO BE WHEN THEY HAVE BEEN ROAD BUDDIES A FEW TIMES,I STILL MISS HIM AS I DO ALL THE OLD WANDERERS I ONCE KNEW IN A VANISHED WORLD AND I TRY HARD TO REMEMBER THE DANCING EYES,BIG GRIN AND HAPPY FACE. BUT THE IMAGE OF SWOLLEN LEGS,PAINED EYES AND STRAINED FACE KEEPS COMING BACK.AH HOOD RIVER BLACKIE SOMETIMES MAYBEY YOU LOOKED TOO CLOSELY AND SAW TOO MUCH

AMERICA IN IT'S GREATEST CRISIS SINCE THE GREAT DEPRESSION

By Frosty Wooldridge
October 2, 2008
NewsWithViews.com

Denver's radio talk show host Peter Boyles of www.khow.com, said, “America is in the greatest crisis since the Great Depression.”

How do you suppose we arrived at this moment?

Take a guess at America’s number one export in the past 10 years! Food? Oil? Steel? Textiles?

Nope! America’s #1 export: debt, IOUs, arrears, jobs, negative balance sheets!

We stand nostril-deep and up to our eyeballs in national and international debt. As my brother Howard, who walks the Halls of Congress weekly, said, “This will be the year of ‘troubles’. We’ll find ourselves in more and more troubles as bankers and investors demand their markers.”

As Time Magazine’s Justin Fox said, “Debt explains why things are such a mess right now.”

Who brought us this mess? For starters, look to President Bush, Senator Harry Reid, Speaker Nancy Pelosi and the rest of our 535 members of our U.S. Congress. Let’s not forget the Federal Reserve! Its hand in skewering Americans rivals the Robber Barons of the late 1800s. If you look back to 1913, the Robber Barons pulled their greatest coup when they slid the Federal Reserve into law.

Mark Twain said, “When our Congress is in session no man’s money or possessions remain safe.”

Why so much debt?

Every year, we shell out $700 billion to pay for gasoline that vanishes in smoke. Next to that, we pitch another $700 billion into the money coffers of India and China in trade deficits. Folks, that’s $1.4 trillion cascading like Niagara Falls OUT of our country year in and year out.

Added to that, our $9.4 trillion federal debt costs us in excess of $400 million daily in interest payments that land into the hands of the lenders. China holds $1.1 trillion of our T-bills. We borrow $2 billion daily from foreign investors to float our debt ridden economy. Our consumer debt exceeds $2 trillion.

On top of that, U.S. taxpayers shell out $346 billion in their money to pay for medical, food, educational and incarceration costs for an estimated 20 million illegal aliens. To make matters worse, legal and illegal migrants send $80 billion annually back to their home countries. Talk about bleeding the Golden Goose to death!

Our military industrial complex spends billions of dollars to maintain 572,000 military personnel on 700 bases in 130 countries around the world. While we cringe at the $700 billion bailout, this week, the House passed a military spending bill costing us $612 billion, but with Homeland Security appropriations, the bill rounds out at $1 trillion. We spend that money at $12 billion monthly in Iraq and Afghanistan.

At an average of $6 billion annually, U.S. taxpayers gave $84.8 billion of their money thus far to Israel. Since 1979, Egypt received $50 billion from U.S. taxpayers. Zero in return; absolutely zero!

Per orders from the Clinton and Bush Administrations for the past 16 years, mortgage brokers found easy access to ‘no down payment’ loans to anyone that featured a heartbeat and could make their mark on a contract. Whether they showed proof of being an American citizen with the ability to pay their mortgages made no difference. Ultimately, estimates range from five million to many more illegal aliens gained U.S. mortgages with no down payment. They piled two or three families into single family homes. They degraded neighborhoods that dropped property values that drove out American citizens.

Few appreciate that taxpayers spend $50.6 billion annually to house 2.3 million criminals at $22,000 each prisoner. (Bureau of Justice Statistics) We pay more for prisons than maintaining our educational systems.

When you look at our major export being debt and jobs, you understand that we cannot continue on this path. America faces the 21st century with daunting limitations after two centuries of unlimited growth. We face an economic paradigm that can no longer continue. We must move toward steady state economics. (www.steadystate.org)

Will we continue toward certain failure, i.e., collapse? Will we keep building air craft carriers and maintain 700 military bases around the world? Will we keep exporting jobs and importing $700 billion worth of trade deficits annually? Will we move toward electric cars and alternative energy or allow ourselves to run this civilization over a cliff?

Kirk Peffers in the Denver Post said, “You couldn’t fit a credit card between McCain and Obama’s foreign policy positions. No real differences on Russia, Georgia, NATO, Israel, Iran, Vietnam, North Korea, or, as Obama called it, “projecting U.S. power around the world. No criticism of having U.S. bases in 130 countries. Neither candidate has learned the No.1 lesson for the 20th century: Empires are over. We are like Rome 300 A.D., or London, 1935.”



This nations spirals into deeper and deeper “troubles” because we keep buying air craft carriers and forging wars while we allow our citizens, cities, schools and infrastructure to rot, decay and degrade. We keep importing millions of poor and uneducated the third world and expect what—a cultural and intellectual renaissance?



Let’s stop building up Iraq, Israel, Egypt and other countries. Let’s spend our money on our country. Whatever we do, we must create a vision of our civilization today for any chance for a tomorrow for our children.

To take action:
www.numbersusa.com
www.fairus.org
www.proenglish.org
www.capsweb.org
www.vdare.com

Listen to Frosty Wooldridge on Tuesdays and Thursdays as he interviews top national leaders on his radio show “Connecting the Dots” at republicbroadcasting.org at 6:00 PM Mountain Time. Adjust tuning in to your time zone.

© 2008 Frosty Wooldridge - All Rights Reserved



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Frosty Wooldridge possesses a unique view of the world, cultures and families in that he has bicycled around the globe 100,000 miles, on six continents and six times across the United States in the past 30 years. His published books include: "HANDBOOK FOR TOURING BICYCLISTS" ; “STRIKE THREE! TAKE YOUR BASE”; “IMMIGRATION’S UNARMED INVASION: DEADLY CONSEQUENCES”; “MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE TO ALASKA: INTO THE WIND—A TEEN NOVEL”; “BICYCLING AROUND THE WORLD: TIRE TRACKS FOR YOUR IMAGINATION”; “AN EXTREME ENCOUNTER: ANTARCTIA.” His next book: “TILTING THE STATUE OF LIBERTY INTO A SWAMP.” He lives in Denver, Colorado.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Little man's 8 tomorrow

Bought him some construction trucks. Like he doesn't have enough.. ;)

wow

The best beatbox I've ever seen.


http://zman6919.blogspot.com/2008/10/beat-box-amazing.html