Irritated Motes

Let’s start off with presidential canidate Pete Buttigeig, former mayor of South Bend IN. Guy has really impressive educational cred’s (Harvard, Oxford, Pembroke). But again does not represent anyone but himself. His latest ? He wants to completely ban/confiscate firearms, no matter what the Constitution says, and he wants to start by saying anyone on Social Security cannot own firearms. Somehow he feels that this is government money and that makes the recipient  like someone living in welfare housing, subject to a different set of rules. Sorry, I paid, and am still paying, into “my” SS account. It’s my money, not yours or the governments.  But you don’t get to tell me it’s your money and I have to do what you say.

Smollett; Charges Dismissed = Exoneration             Mueller Report; There was no collusion= Trump rigged the investigation.

Clint Eastwood is doing a movie about Richard Jewell. A 34 yo hero who, in 1996 at the Atlanta Summer Olympics, saved many  lives by doing the unselfish thing, his job, and had his entire life destroyed by a “profiler”. He died at age 44, much too young.  Another trial by media accusation.

I feel  for Notre Dame and the people of France. But all of a sudden, woken “architects” are calling for the rebuild to include “minarets”. These, if you don’t know, are the traditional spot where the Islamic call to prayer comes from. What’s next, the Statue of Liberty in a burka?

Finally some balls. George Mason University tells it’s students Justice Kavanaugh is teaching a summer class.  Whether the students like it or not. One protester asked “ what extent did you consider the mental health of the survivors?” Survivors of WHAT? Another trial by media accusation.

Never Give Up

One of the things I often refer to is my “Never Give Up” attitude.

Long, long ago, in another time and place an old NCO gave a speech. I did take away one idea I’ve tried to follow all my life. You know, my life law.

“If you never give up, you will never be beaten. You can lose, or can come in second or even dead last. But if you didn’t give up, you weren’t beaten”.

Over the years, I’ve come close to giving up a few times, but I’m still here so I guess I wasn’t beaten.

This “Mantra” was hardest to convey to my 2 youngest as they grew up. They had to listen to me tell that story so many times, I’m sure they got sick of hearing it, rolled their eyes, and turned me to “mute” till it was over. They all turned out damn fine adults and human beings so I guess it was worth it.

I’ve even told that story to a lot of young bikers over the years. There is one young man that got that lesson and I’m pretty sure it stuck.

It was at a bike club party, not sure which club, but it was held at a Makaha Ranch. Just for grins, they decided to have a barrel race.

A biker barrel race is just like a rodeo barrel race. You have a starting line, 3 barrels laid out kinda like a baseball diamond. The difference is, you leave the start go to the area between 1st and 2nd, go around the barrel, then across to the area between 2nd and 3rd this time after you round the barrel you go straight ahead, go around barrel number 2, and then back to the start, which is now the finish line.

Since I’d done this before, the host club asked me to do the demo run. But, you need to be aware of three things.

First, let me put something in perspective. The whole contest depends on your total time. From start to finish, the clock runs on.

Second, I was riding a 1980 Harley Davidson 80ci Wide Glide, that didn’t have a working electric starter. In reality, it was kick start only.

Third, I’d been at the party way too long already. I should not have been riding, I was drunk. Not that that had ever stopped me. (I have since learned better.)

However, this was on private property so no cops, and I was, in a manner of speaking, up to the challenge. Probably shouldn’t have.

When you’re making your run around the barrel, the tighter your turn, the shorter the time. In this case, closer is better. However, if you’re too close, you gotta lean hard and since this was grass and dirt, too hard would dump you, but it was fun.

So here we go. Of course, I get to “1st  base” and drop the bike. I wasn’t going fast enough to do any damage, but it did kill the engine.

Pick-up the bike, drop the kick stand and jump on the kick starter. Repeat until it starts.

Then over to “3rd base” and repeat the whole process again. Only this time I’m laughing so hard, I’m having trouble getting things in the correct order and drop the damn bike again.

This next part of the story was later related to by a patched club member who standing nearby.

While I was out on the field making as ass out of myself, headed for second base, my wife was in the front of the crowd watching, not cheering, but watching.

A young rider, not a member of any patched motorcycle club, made a loud comment to the effect,

“He ain’t no good. He oughta just give up.”

Suddenly, he found himself confronted with a 5’, 105lb banshee asking, “What the Fxxx did you say? What did you say?”

The young rider stuttered for a moment, found some balls, and repeated,

“He should just give up.”

Wrong thing to say.

By all the after action accounts, this young man was backed up, clear through the standing crowd, by my wife who proceeded to tell him in no uncertain terms,

“My old man NEVER GIVES UP. I don’t see you up there doing any better, so in other words, all mouth and no action. So unless you ‘re going out there and ride, just shut the hell up.”

She also proceeded to tell him clearly and concisely what HE should do with his give up attitude, and where he should put it.

To the young man’s credit, either it didn’t occur to him or he was smarter that he acted,  he didn’t get froggy, insult or try to push past her. He just turned around and walked away.

I say that was smart because he was surrounded by motorcycle patch holders that probably would have taken any such action as a personal affront. I think you can guess what that would have resulted in.

I finally crossed the finish line and demanded my “time”. With a perfectly straight face the patch holder looked at me and after looking at the watch and loudly announced, “Tuesday!

It was a great answer, a good laugh and a terrific party, and hopefully a lesson to a young rider.

By the way, I keep telling you, my wife is a warrior.

Brand New Motes

Polly don’t want a cracker: The world’s “fattest” parrot, a kakapo, really came through this year. The little guy has fathered  (I think that’s the right word) 249 eggs, this year.  Since the girls of his species only get horney every 2 to 4 years I can see his being eager.

Baseball and hockey teams are dropping the playing of Kate Smith’s “God Bless America”. They’re offended by something she recorded in 1939, 80 years ago. Ms. Smith passed in 1986. To me it is ludicris to apply today’s mores and standards to that different time. It just don’t work. Oh, by the way, she recorded the song with one of the greatest voices, black or white, of any time, Paul Robeson. And yes, he was black.

In Oklahoma there are over 500 independent school districts. Recently a bill to adopt a set teacher/student guideline, to include texting, “social interaction”, and sex; the bill FAILED. Maybe it was not strict enough? It is the “bible belt”.

Not Reported By MSM: the individual recently charged with throwing a 5 year old child, off the third story at the Mall Of America, had legally changed his name to Emmanuel Aranda. His former name you ask; Abdisaid Mohammed. Make whatever you want out of it.

Days of Our Motes

Hollyweird Hypocrites; Rappers are getting butt hurt over Laura Ingram’s comments on murdered rapper Nipsey Hustle.( Is murder the #1 cause of rapper death?) Now, I’d never heard of him or his music, but I have read he was really giving back to his community. But the 1st Amendment Freedom of Speech allows her to say what she wants. Just as it covers Hustle’s lyrics :

“let this nigga win, we gon’ prolly feel broke
You build walls, we gon’ prolly dig holes
And if your ass do win, you gon’ prolly get smoked, nigga
Fuck you!”

Remember, make them play by their own rules.

The other day I wrote about a Maryland prosecutor dismissing charges. Well, there was “another” prison smuggling operation, in Maryland, busted. Payments were being made via PayPal. Nearly 200 people have been arrested. Just sayin’

There is a lot of talk about Rep. Tlaib. While running for office, she stated she was “incredibly blessed to be born here”. Now she says she “has never felt more Palestinian than I’ve felt in Congress”. This from a person born in Detroit? In fact, I everything I can find indicates she has never been to “Palestine”. But she feels free to lecture others on “identity politics”. Hey, did you know she has a “law degree” but has never practiced  law?

If you’re not watching “The Orville” you are missing some of the best television being written and performed today.

Motes of the Day

Aloha to Georgia Engel, who is mostly remembered for the “Mary Tyler Moore Show”. A graduate of the University of Hawaii , Manoa,  Performing Arts Department, she appeared extensively in tv comedies from 1972 through the 1980’s and was still performing as late as 2018. She was a bright shining ray of sunshine whenever she appeared.

Hypocrisy: The woman who verbally and physically assaulted KellyAnne Conway faces no penalty. Montgomery County Maryland prosecutor has dismissed all charges. After all, it was only a member of the Trump Administration.

There have been three suicides, in five days, at V.A. hospitals. These souls beg someone to pay some attention. I have known 7 vet’s that have committed outright suicide. And God only knows how many I have known that have used drugs and alcohol but died of “natural causes”. I think it’s time people paid attention. NOW

Further Hypocrisy: Nancy Pelosi entered politics in 1987. She claims her primary source of income is her “U.S. Congressional Salary”, $193,400 per year. We really need her to run the budget because after 30+ years of that salary, she is now worth between 57 and 72 million dollars. Girl knows how to save.

Motes of a Sunny day

Hope you all had a better weekend than I did. Yep, it rained.


Let’s throw in constant rain, 2 earthquakes, and a 5 ½ hour sit at Hilo Airport,( a black mark on Hawaiian Airlines “on time” record) and you have my weekend.




So I got to do more work on the long pointy object rebuild. As you can see, I’ve cut the tang forward 1 inch. Now comes the long file and emery paper procedure to make everything fit. The basket hilt and guard are polishing up slowly, but they are coming along.

Remember, unless you’re the lead dog, the view is always the same.


Hollywood Hypocrites: Cher just a short weeks ago twitted (twittered, whatever) “Those who can must take a DREAMER in2 their homes and protect them”.                   Now she says; “I understand Helping struggling Immigrants,but MY CITY (Los Angeles) ISNT TAKING CARE OF ITS OWN. WHAT ABOUT THE 5,000+ Citizens WHO LIVE ON THE STREETS…”                                          NIMBY (Not In My BackYard)  Cher?

I thought she promised to leave the country if Trump was elected.

How about the former “Gun Control” candidate who has been arrested for shooting her campaign treasurer to death? She “turned herself in”, five days later.

Headline: “Naked Man Rams Car Into Carl’s Jr; Shot By McDonald’s Guard”. I’ve never been to a McDonalds that had armed security. I have seen a naked man in McDonald’s. But that’s another story.




Without a doubt, one of the most famous bikers in Hawaii, and the most unforgettable characters of my life, is Tiger.

Tiger has lied about is age so many times I don’t think he knows how old he is.

Tiger far surpassed me as a storyteller, at least in his younger days.

The biggest thing about Tiger’s stories, you never knew which ones were true and which ones he might have made up. The disbelievers usually found out by calling his bluff, only to find out they’d picked one he could prove. Over the years I’ve seen several young bikers eat their words by calling bullshit on his story, only to have him drop the evidence in their lap.

I first saw Tiger as a rookie cop and he was pointed out to me as a member of one of our local organized crime “families”. We followed him around while he picked up bet money, payoffs, and vig payments.

Over the years we’d run into each other at parties, runs and rallies and always maintained a friendly relationship. I never tried to hide who and what I was, and he never tried let it bother him. We both had a job to do so it was never personal.

That almost blew-up in 1980, during my “suspension” after internal complaint.  I was a bartender at Hummers Downtown Saloon. I also cleaned up every morning so I in the bar by 7:00am or 7:30am every morning.

There was no big mystery; everyone knew where I worked, so it was no surprise when one morning I get a telephone call from an “Intelligence” detective I knew.

This detective and I were not really friends, but we’d always been straight with each other, or so I thought, so I didn’t question his information when he called me, at the bar, early one morning.

He asked me if I still “saw” Tiger around. I wasn’t riding then, but still made parties and whatnot, so I told him yeah. I still saw him.

“Then you should try to see him real soon”, my detective “Friend” says. “We just intercepted a call and somebody has a contract to whack (kill) him.”

I asked if it was for real and he tells me it was from an FBI phone tap. I thanked him and said I’d see what I could do.

As soon as I hung up, I “reached out” for Tiger. Within a half hour he returned my call and I told him what was happening. He was of course, upset and seemed to know something about what was going on. We hung up, and I didn’t hear anything further.

I didn’t hear anything from the detective or Tiger, so imagine my surprise when 2 weeks later at a party, Tiger jumped in my face and in no uncertain terms told me what a jack-ass I was for calling him about a make believe “hit”. Huh?

After he calmed down, we compared notes and figured out my “buddy” had made the call just to see which way Tiger and I would jump.

If I hadn’t called Tiger or if Tiger didn’t react he’d have assumed my word didn’t carry much weight in the biker community.

Since Tiger must have done something, which would account for him being so pissed off, the detective would assume he could now plant false information with me and it would be “put out” to the biker community.

What that detective didn’t count on, was Tiger having his own sources and my word carried enough weight. It never occurred to him that Tiger would still respect and talk to me after discovering the information was false.

The detective called me several times after that, with “information”. He then left the police department and went to work for the State Attorney General. I never related another piece of his information to anyone.

Tiger and I remain friends and brothers to this day. He has shown me respect by allowing me to one of the speakers at his “birthday” party years ago. It was an honor.

That party was another “Got ya” for Tiger as it featured a video-taped greeting from G. Gordon Liddy. ( Google him)Liddy related a story of him and Tiger at Marion Federal Prison. Another story some people didn’t believe, until “the G-man” backed it up.

Tiger strikes again.