“Just A Tool To Each?”

Machete  is but

a good garden tool to you,

but what about him?*


  • (Throughout much of our planet in a temperate zone, the machete is a well-balanced tool for gardening and for making straight a way in the jungle – but in the hands of some – well into its third century of use at least, that murderous device has made mockery of the concept of human kindness, decency and compassion.  Yet, I have heard not a single call ban the swift, silent, deadly killer machete!  Why is that?)

9 thoughts on ““Just A Tool To Each?”

    • Last time – until I escaped Greenery – I used a machete, sir, was with you; performing EPD above the rocky beaches of Eastern Kaneohe Bay when a wasp alighted on my left upper (lower part) arm and I whapped it with said blade. Got out of two whole hours to have the subsequent wound treated. But, damme, the dear scar has begun its fade-out. Must see about a suitable replacement. My current machete – ‘shete’ types S.M. Stirling in the latter half of his many-noveled Novel of The Change series of SF/Fantasy – some real fine writin’, that!. Later, your Juiceness. One of your senatorships just said she really thinks semi-automatics the real culprit: a gateway gun as it were, isn’t that so Diane F.?


      • And methinks that every Floridian is issued a cartel approved machete in order to hack the daily foliage in order to get to work. Yes, yes, I do have a memory of you and I working off our debt to society. What’s a good starter book for Stirling I can attempt? Floods in the South, Puerto Rico drowned, fires in California, Armageddon Out of Here… don’t fret, Your Jayness, firearms are with us forever… though I do resent the ones that can fire quicker than I can think. Keep your butt dry.

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      • S.M Stirling: ’bout anything – especially written in tandem with either Eric Flint or David Drake. I especially like some of his solo earlier work. He tends to epicicize though sometimes, especially with Drake, it is difficult to tell where one’s humor begins and the other rubs off: The Novels of the Change cycle (still missing Comes the Fire and Meeting at Corvalis from that and his new – and allegedly last – to come out this month. I may have to threaten the library her with termites to get them off the stick. Against the Tide of Time, (hell, any of the Belesarius (you remember: the Byzantine general on the edge of head-chop because he kept kicking Pesian – ets. – ass with fewer and fewer troops as the emperor began the usual paranoia routine of keeping the good – winning! – generals on shorter and shorter leashes and with fewer and fewer troops…the series of Belesarius in India is a corker with poly-ticks and intrigue and a well-twisted plot to keep bees working overtime at the wax factory to keep the candles coming…You, sir, can think faster than a chromed-chamber on an unregulated MassMurdering model 16A1 with or without the matty matel staped on the left stock buttplate. I actually subscribe to the pre-bootcamp – and it was emphasized there at PISC too – doctrine of one round one dead. If you maggots ain’t hittin’ you’re only good to soak up RPG schrapnel, quoth I of Sergeant Bongiorno – and why a junior DI captured a GoodDay monicker is way past my unpaygrade: them’s the days of 97-a-month prives…and that wasn’t too far from the previous days of 50 smackers a month killing Sandanistas – did you know Caesar Sandino matriculated at Harvard? Them left wing wackjobs make an honest housenigger for the big New York Bankers work his morheens hard…says 2timer MOH man Smedley Butler. I’m glad your wife ‘wakened you so you too could smell Napa and Sonoma: is Mountain View toasty? I’ll shoot your Glenn’s address and you can foist the cats and humans off on him and his wife Lin and Opera Soprano PhD daughter Kaia En-Tzu. Just found whist listening to some interview of Jason? Alden’s crew at Vegas there was a lady singer with the name Kaya(sp?) Jones. A Jones and A Richards with Hebrew first names: what’s the world coming to when a good honest white name gets wrapped around something like that – coming nervy-vamma, mayhap.
        Just came off a five our bake in the sun searching for gopherus polyphemus taking reguge amongst some stainless steel blanks and forms and sea-not-yet-going floating docks being built out Smaffird wau amd the fecal stuff soon my hit what with protected species bellying up (or being bellied over) to the bars and ladders and gangplanks all getting stackedatop their former and yet again new homes. Life when you’sa tuttle ain’t complicated, but it sure do tend to get squishy.
        I’d rather recommend some of Roger Zelazny: Lord Demon is superb, Doorways In The San (in which a pair of Doodhoms try to wrest out a sentient star from a forever undergrad riding grandpa’s bequest to study at the font until he gets degreed and then is cut off…the intergalactic investigators disguised not at all as a donkey and a whatchmacallit small brown ball of fur not a platypus but close turn all into fun read…but I have two of RZ’s books of poetry and that is amazing…just came to me: DonnerJack by Zelazny with Jane Linskold (as he lay dying while writing) and Wolf And Iron.
        But back to Stirling…I’d jump into any of his series and read the follow-on and the follow-forwards at the same time…don’t most people I know read more than one book at a time?


    • Then I had noticed I was not responding properly. Even the U. S. Virgin Islands – and those of other Conquering Countries – we bought ours – ‘ceptin’ for PR which was war-spoilt and ignored horrendously even if it was our best legitimate unfloating fort fronting The Carib and The Mexi-gulf and worse, we allowed FLAN to become something other than a nice way to treat condensed milk by thinking just because they got to be their own Olympics team they can not really be Americans because They Brown! And The Spik Spanish. Well, in the sun sometimes, so am I and you ought to hear me semeolvido sometimes, too! Had we not been so anti Catholic anti brown brethren how much less strife, corruption, disease and misery and death and destruction had we not just taken the manifest by Destiny’s horns and kept marching right bast Sant’Ana past Vera Cruz and not stopped until just North and lightly West of Lake Maricabo(sp?) But then I am an optimist – one who knows everything is all past loved up to work but thinks it will anyway – who likes dreaming in daylight about only if we had the right dictator and he could clone behavior and goodness in that small batch of followons – see, I’m realist to know that youcan’t get what you want from everyone and trying sometimes just skins too many knees. Later, your Brucehood.


      • simeolvido, not semeolvido, stupido! But i think semeovido scans better. Just scored. Now I gots to go grab an early tomorrow lunch, see what’s cooking at Alive After Five Street Fest for the firsttime in a very long time and catch the blue jam at The Alley before homesauntersgoI.


      • You mean, since The Vietnamese declined the honor? Didja hear what South Vietnamese – before they were re-educated that is, those who survived such schooling – called The Russians who took over the giant multi-service base – and more importantly massive blue- and brown-water port of Cam Ran Bay? Americans without money!. That’s a fine how-do, no? Puerto Rico, The United States answer to Jew Jersey-New York corruption – perhaps that’s where ‘they’ learned it…naah: they had imperial Spain for a template and who’s to say what those pesky taino, etc., locals learned about barbecue before C. Columbus saw them thar is-lands? The PR regiment sent to Korea came back with more commendations, unit and personal decorations and lost limbs than any other US regiment, kinda like the 400 and 404 units did for the second-generation Japanese who were born in Hawaii and, later, after the 400th RCT bled enough to assuage the robber-barons who swooped up and denuded the California businesses and farms that Them Thar Nips mayhap fought like real ‘murricans! and thus we find strange bedfellows fighting bureaucracy to return to a warrior culture (Navajo, Athabasa- and Algonquian-sired sons of First Families) long have praised. Now, just who would do that? Fight for their oppressors? Whyn’t we poll those brave and perhaps foolhardy melanin-enhanced members of our polyglot family who have fought, whether free or indentured or slave, for this, their native – or not – land to see why this place which I cry is so bad still beats the feces out of anywhere else in oh just so many categories, Burt Parks.


  1. As was typing but I distracted me: my current ‘chete is a wicked but impossible to sharpen affair, so it is more a hang-above-the-bathroom door bit of macabre. It’s of a bit longer than standard length but it widens to a wicket seven or so inches at its tip and its heft is much more than the modern whipper-snappers of Wilderness Shopper Stores. I prefer my Kay-Bar or even my Randall bowie for whacking greenery giving great grievance out in the boonies.


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