New Video: Military Toys Don’t Make For Better Cops?

After a hiatus of unplanned length; I make a return to discuss about surplus military equipment and how it might have not been as great for police as we thought it would.

(Not mentioned in the video is that it might have been an accounting scheme for the federal government all along).

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No One Is Enlightened: The Battle With Space Mutants

Although Charles Whitman and his UT clocktower shooting made for an easier article, I wanted to write about something that bothers me often. You may ask; What pray tell bothers you? It is “space mutants”.

               Space mutants aren’t the extra terrestrial intelligence that we have known from science fiction entertainment, but the weird humans that I often interact with that leave me with a sour feeling in my proverbial heart. These are the people that make life difficult and often create the conditions where their own lives suck.

               These space mutants aren’t all “Appalachian-Americans” or the well maligned “cousin lovers”. But they contain well educated people too. One of the sets of people I can’t stand are “too smart for their own good” types.

               I met a few of these educated space mutant types growing up near a major college. They were almost like automatons. They would spout off pointless and useless quotes from literature without having the ability to use the information. Wisdom was never there. I would hear these people talk about 19th century English literature and brow beat those that had not known it.

               I later found it to be a tragedy within itself that these collegiate knuckle draggers would speak about the Enlightenment, often as it was part of a thesis or a feeble attempt to sound smart. The ugly part was that any wisdom was thrown out for the purposes of pseudo-religious memorization.

               Within decades of my departure; it seemed that the newest batch of useless professors-in-training made a gross departure from what was supposed to be the “classical liberal” education of the past. Students would learn a small amount of the supposed classics early in the ball game but would move on to what many people around me call a “monumental sh*tshow merged with an amalgamation of f*ck”. (In more polite circles; the area of study is anything near “woke” or seemingly useless studies). The Enlightenment era works, coupled with various influential works, mean nothing to pre-programmed morons like that.

               I occasionally have interactions with the “well read cretins” during my times out and about. These people were largely unsocialized in a realistic manner. They are often unable to handle simple humor and they don’t try to understand normal interactions with others. (Some of these same morons have no concept of simple sexuality and I often am puzzled that they have evolved to a non-scientific agent who adopted some pants-less rhythmic gyrations). They also seem to have no grasp on simple entertainment-esque pleasures, expecting everything to be a production and lacking an ability to embrace “amateurs”. Simple enjoyment can often be broken by their snooty need to correct someone on some miniscule error.

               I had previously written about a run in with one of these sour educational industry fobbits in the supplied post at the end of the post.

               I think that many of the educated space mutants have deleterious effects on everyone. It helps turn off people from learning and reading. It also helps make other non-automatons think twice about becoming an instructor or educator. (I had a desire to get into being an instructor for technical skills, but after a friend was drummed out by “weak sauce mofos”, I feel like this career change is farther back on the list of desirable options). I fear for our future. I think that we often are getting dumber than smarter, even as we supposedly gain knowledge. I think that we are walking backward away from the thirst for learning found in the Enlightenment. I was never discouraged by those that roundly reject advanced learning (self or through “guided” study programs) but I had been turned off by the “literatti” in education. I hope that things can change eventually.

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FreeMatt in Review: 7-25 to 7-29 (2022)

Slowly rounding the corner. In the meantime, this is the FreeMatt in Review.

To Discriminate Is To Serve You Better?

Someone judged me and it benefitted me greatly. Find out more in this post.

The Matters w/ Matt: A Cow With Two Bulls

A woman starts getting distracted by another man that revs her engine. Read more in this Matters w/ Matt.

Hanging Out With Tyler’s Dad and Dave’s Mom

I met some cool people when I learned to relax and it was all due to pro-wrestling.

Pantera reunion tour next year. “Look at me now”, after all these years…I’m still broken.

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To Discriminate Is To Serve You Better?

I remember walking into a church complex outside of Jacksonville, Florida with an address in my hand. Before the time of GPS, I would often navigate via a chart (or AAA road guide). This time I found the correct address. But it wasn’t the city impound lot, it was a church. After being lost for a few minutes, I finally found someone. A puzzled looking, mannish appearing woman walked out of an office adorned with a square rainbow, stopping me then asking if she could help me. She eyed me with a bit of physical concern. I was a short haired guy with a Confederate flag tattoo, coupled with some band t-shirt that hadn’t been washed in weeks.

I explained that I was looking for the address on the paper. She mentioned that I was at the “south” location, while the impound was north. I laughed and thanked her for her help. As I was leaving, an extremely husky woman’s voice asked: “Who In The Hell Was That?

I had forgotten about that weird encounter for years. (The churches LGBT outreach didn’t see that many straight sailors).

But it reared its ugly head when I read an article about someone being upset when it came to a wedding venue’s lack of “acceptance” for same sex couples. (Link from news below)

I often thank people for discriminating against me. I had someone talk me out of going to certain clubs with him. He wouldn’t tell me directly that he didn’t want uncool white guys with him. But he was doing me a favor, there is a great chance that I would have not had fun or even been that guy who made things worse for the other “low IQ” entertained gentleman.

I had been turned down for dates before by women. The one woman told me that she didn’t think I was her type. (Partially not true, she liked getting boned and I had a penis). But socially speaking, I am not a simple person to be around. I hated Uncle Kracker and her friends loved that crap. I also didn’t spend all my money on vehicles.

If I would have discriminated a little bit to begin with, I wouldn’t have wasted my time. I think it is within the boundaries of personal safety to think of ways to handle things or even common ways to judge things. (Most Baptists I know of don’t want to drink. My friend’s lesbian sister doesn’t handle discussions about femininity very well. I have made out well to steer clear of discussions about late 19th century French paintings when I was around certain people.) These “pre-judgements” weren’t out of ugliness but simplicity.

I think it would be safe to say that someone could do what other people have done and steer other people from their businesses. I don’t understand why we need laws to force people into serving those that are better served by others. Just like the article, there are groups that steer folks to those that want them or like their viewpoints. There had been websites to talk about other services and people before. I have used them. Other commenters would blatantly tell me that unless I was of a certain background, I might want to go somewhere else.

If I wanted to do what Valdez had been asking for, I would never have any beliefs. I would also end up giving lackluster service to people I don’t like or I didn’t have the ability to stomach.

I also don’t want people to give me lackluster service after kowtowing. I want enthusiastic sex with consenting female partners, not someone guilted into sex after worrying about being labeled a bigot. I want the owner of a business to be happy (or content) to do business with me. And I sure as heck don’t want to partner with a starfish!

I appreciate when someone discriminates against me. It didn’t matter if I was staggering drunk or sober. If it isn’t in them to do business with me, I will find someone else who does. If my discriminating taste can’t find a supplier, I must become my own supplier or find a supplier further out.

Valdez was overly emotional to seek out the force of law to cater to their whims. The law is not the venue to support your views. Your pocket book and other people’s ears are the tools. I learned all of this when I started being discriminated against.

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The Matters w/ Matt: A Cow With Two Bulls

Every Wednesday: I never fail to be disgusted with advice columns. I am unsure why they still get paid to do what they do. As always, I am in awe when it comes to awful examples like Dear Prudence and Dear Annie. The columnists seem to get rewarded for giving you bad advice. I think that people get terrible advice from them. I don’t blame anyone that calls advice column responses garbage. I use my postings to correct these responses and help society by being an utmost asshole, (as always, a hat tip to Aaron Clarey at Asshole Consulting).

Consider this Dear Abby article (courtesy of Arcamax) from July 27, 2022:

Dear (Matters):

 I have been married to my husband, “Jim,” for three years, but we have been together for seven. It hasn’t been an easy road for us. I love him, but he doesn’t give me the attention or time that I want.

We have two kids we’re raising from previous relationships. I didn’t intentionally set out to hurt him, but three years ago, I reconnected with someone from my past I’ll call “Mac.” Mac and I have been off and on since reconnecting. Now I find myself not wanting to hurt either of them, but I’m in love with both of them.

I have thought about leaving Jim several times, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I feel like I’m living a double life. Jim suspects that I’m talking to someone else but won’t come out and ask me directly. All I want is to be happy and not hurt others in the process. Please give me some advice.

         — Thoroughly Confused 

Dear Thoroughly Confused:

A cow would graze in green grass and deal with the life of a cow. Another cow would nibble around the fence line, noticing some decent patches but acknowledging the rougher areas that sprung up near the fence. That cow did not long for a fantasy, but stayed within their confines. There was another cow that fantasized about the green patches in another neighboring pasture. The fantasizing cow lusted after what sounded like lush surroundings and the coolest waters. This cow snuck through the fence because it could. The fantasizing cow found its way into ditches and roadways. The grass was not supportive. The cow still fantasized about the Shangri-la beyond the proverbial horizon. The cow may or may not have made it. The brutal truth surfaces.

The fantasizing cows in my community often get hit by unassuming drivers. Some cows find themselves in strange surroundings, trading security for excitement but the excitement presents stressors that the cow wasn’t used to. Other cows find themselves missing the healthy cows they used to chew the cud with.

I don’t want to call you a cow, but your words remind me of what can happen. I would warn you against being greedy, being metaphorically drunk with both options. I am not telling you to not be happy, but happiness may not be a possibility.

If I could give you a piece of advice, I would seek counseling. You are lacking a healthy level of contentment. It seems like you are lacking a strong building block of required mental stability for the rest of your life.

You should find out what else is missing. Is there something you see in the other man that you don’t see in your husband? Without mentioning the other man; can you describe how your husband can improve? (Or at least give him a tangible idea on what he could do differently?).

The future, to be bright, might take a change. To steer on the two courses you mentioned is to wreck. I hope the road ahead is better.


I don’t imagine that I will have a shortage of emails to answer. I would love to start doing this for anyone that sends me an email. If this is you; email us at

If you hate advice columns; I don’t blame you. If it isn’t soft people giving advice; it is someone trying to justify acting like an insensitive asshole. Till next week.

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Hanging Out With Tyler’s Dad and Dave’s Mom

One of the worst things about being sober at times is that you are usually sober when it pays to be a few sheets to the wind. I feel a certain bond with those who imbibe and a certain repulsion to those that are purposefully sober when a gathering gives an environment which to drink. I put myself in a intellectual trap yesterday.

I had made a promise to someone that I would attend my favorite professional wrestling outfit’s event in a neighboring town. I knew of the venue, but I had never went there. I had driven by years ago, but my hindsight was not there. I knew it was near somewhat familiar confines, considering it is a short jaunt from my favorite menswear store.

I had arrived early. I couldn’t find a parking place near the cluster of buildings where the event was, so I parked at a closed store instead. I had found a spot shortly after an “Appalachian-American” peeled out of a dirt spot on top of a curb. It was adorned with some “pre game” beers that someone tossed out. I ran my tire over them.

After a failed attempt at getting in the event through an employees entrance, I walked into a bar with a few narrow passages. I had never been there before. I had seen what looked like a patio, which was sparsely populated. I had sat at the bar for a little bit as a rain storm temporarily wet down the entire area. After a short wait, I stuck my head around the corner. I finally found the wrestling ring I was looking for.

I had already had a run in with one of our favorite wrestlers when I was trying to take a piss. Another was hanging out at the bar. One of the more eye candy friendly ones passed by looking for something. It wasn’t shortly after when we were allowed to go find seats.

I ended up settling in the “middle” area, not near the ring but not at the patio’s bar. It wasn’t the best seat. It wasn’t near the people I knew or the merch table. But it gave me a wide view of all of the venue and its patrons.

I often at fault when it comes to having a bad experience. I have been painted as snooty or overly cultured. (Coupled with being overdressed, I am often called “misplaced”). I am tough on people, often expecting the worst from them in an evolutionary sense. I have to remember that I was creating rules in my life that made things harder, often running contrary to what Rob at Rob Says mentioned: “Don’t care, got xxxx”.

My self imposed punishment (anxiety) would be the stupid crap to be pointed out. Some of the more spirited patrons and their drunk antics would rub me the wrong way. The wrestling “punx” would chap me a bit. The “less than 5s” wandering around were another thing. But after a hilarious set of events, the truth came out.

A friendly lady struck up a conversation with me. She was at an adjacent table. She had mentioned that she always loved watching Dave wrestle. She even shared that he became the respectful man today from being the little kid posing in his Spiderman underwear. She opened up that she was Dave’s mom and Dave’s girlfriend was at the merch table. I about cried when this woman came into my life.

It wasn’t too much longer that I spotted a man in his 50s, decked out in “traditional patio garb”. He had a middle evening stumble going on. Mr. Patio stumbled over my way, hitting me about three different times on the arm. He wanted to tell me about his shirt. It had “Tyler” on it, which was the name of one of the wrestlers. This man was a great hype man, explaining that he tries to get to see him all the time and that the other wrestlers were Tyler’s friends. Their road time was legendary, having spent a decent amount of time together. Mr. Patio told me that he was Tyler’s dad, but with one of the most polite smiles I had seen in a while. I shared that Tyler was one of the best performers there for many in attendance.

I had felt a little bad being judgmental at the start. It was different when I had someone in my proverbial corner. It helped open up my mind to something beautiful. I genuinely learned to appreciate the easy going patrons. I laughed at the funny things yelled by sone of the “punx”.

(And yes, I embraced the ability to see beauty in women without an excessive mental gate. My assigned waitstaff was a Kool-Aid redhead who did her best to be pleasant, who would have smiled if kissed by an appropriate lover. The runner was a buxom brunette that smiled as she shimmied her ample derriere, nearly spilling out of her top. I could also salute the rest of the female staff, who did their best to joke with other patrons and laugh like they weren’t at work.  I might have went home alone but it wasn’t without some bright memories).

The staff were earnest, male and female both. They wrangled cats the best way they could. No one picked a fight and everyone left in one piece.

Hanging out with Dave’s mom and Tyler’s dad taught me that we are often at fault for our unhappiness. It easily could start with choosing contentment, but small things can help us steer towards happiness.

(Note: Rob mentioned that “Don’t care, got laid”, but I often say that this can apply to situations that we build up unreasonable expectations for. Rob may have been quoting someone else or a meme, but it can still be applied).

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FreeMatt in Review: 7-18 to 7-22 (2022)

Choose to be content with collapsed buildings. In the meantime, this is the FreeMatt in Review.

Navy Story: The Suicide Messiah

An empty psycho will start a fire to save the day putting it out. Find out more in this post.

July 19, 1989: A Day That The Human Race Should Know

Although a repost, I am inspired by those involved with United 232 on the fateful day in 1989.

The Matters w/ Matt: Don’t Call Me By The Wrong Name

Someone writes in asking if it is okay to not go “all in” when their kid gets married for the “umpteenth” time. Read more in this Matters w/ Matt.

The Barbarian I Was Never Called To Be

I was raised around civilized and noble people, but the ignoble among the influential drive me to be the barbarian I wasn’t supposed to be.

You never harness a tornado twice. Until next week.

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The Barbarian I Was Never Called To Be

I remember fondly running around with a wood sword in my cousin’s basement. One of my other family members, who towered over me, had this gnarly looking shield. I tried to poke him with that blunt sword, which did nothing. He hit me in the nose one decent time and I became unsure of how tenable this three on three warfare was.

Fast forward a few years after failing to attack a fake castle being a fake knight…

For the most part, the men who I saw in my church and neighborhood had mostly noble stature. I think most tried to be honorable, although many had the infamous avoidant personalities. Very few were the kind that would need to fight or lived outside the “system”.

But over time, I see more people naturally being pushed to the outsides. Many of those decent men were taken advantage of. The people they put “faith” in were either sellouts or the people that made a buck selling other people into a metaphorical slavery. (Especially true amongst protestants, who find no problem screwing over other protestants. After all, “it isn’t illegal”!)

I had seen some two legged mangina types come to prominence, in almost comical fashion. One of these was an unwanted guest in my country; the former Prince Harry of Wales. The idiot former soldier does nothing for humanity, minus crying and acting like an asshole in his digs. He complains about Americans, yet lives in palatial conditions in the United States.

I had always thought of myself to be some noble myself, having some European blood from a knight’s family. But I don’t recognize most assholes that are leaders today. I feel like the people on the outskirts of the king’s landmass. The people that you know are out there, but you can’t see them directly.

I think that terrible leaders and the people who want to sell us out will make us a joyful set of barbarians. If not in the literal sense at least in the mental sense. I for one could imagine a catapult destroying a castle with a weasel like Harry hiding in. The shameless peons would shout for joy as the “ramparts” fall.

I couldn’t imagine being that barbarian but I had a small filtration with it when I was in school. A mass (actually a minority) of students had gotten locked out of class and sent to a small auditorium in an ugly red brick building. It had been planned out. A mass of students who normally would not engage in this joined in. The rule was changed by a shocked administration, they had heard the chanting and singing. (It was led by my favorite loud mouth jokester, who finally found his calling early in life).

I had a feeling that the middle finger displaying, flannel shirt wearing A-hole was on to something. I saw castles built by cowards as an impediment, not worthwhile homes. I saw bonafide p*ssies hiding in them.

I feel the same now. I could imagine a group of hundreds, ignored by underpaid security staff, laughing with glee as the Markles shake in fear, flee. I think that the strong often are easy to approach and that the weakest elite hide as they do.

I guess we could all dream of being the right kind of barbarians one day.

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The Matters w/ Matt: Don’t Call Me By The Wrong Name

Every Wednesday: I never fail to be disgusted with advice columns. I am unsure why they still get paid to do what they do. As always, I am in awe when it comes to awful examples like Dear Prudence and Dear Annie. The columnists seem to get rewarded for giving you bad advice. I think that people get terrible advice from them. I don’t blame anyone that calls advice column responses garbage. I use my postings to correct these responses and help society by being an utmost asshole, (as always, a hat tip to Aaron Clarey at Asshole Consulting).

Consider this Dear Abby article (courtesy of Arcamax) from July 20, 2022:

Dear (Matters):

My son is getting married for the third time. I paid for half of his first wedding and also gave a generous gift. I gave him a significant cash gift for his second wedding. Do I give him and his new bride yet another cash gift?

They are planning a small wedding overseas, which I won’t be attending. All have been — or will be — first weddings for the brides. I don’t want the new bride to feel slighted, but on the other hand, it’s getting really expensive for me. They live a nomadic life, so material gifts would not be appreciated by them. What’s a perplexed mother to do?

         — DISGUSTED 

Dear Disgusted:

I had an old neighbor send me an invitation to a destination wedding that was quite of a bit a drive for me. I looked in my pockets for financial inspiration. I had been working seven days a week for eight hour shifts. I thanked them for the invitation but I leveled with them.

I guess I have dodged a few bullets in that I don’t get invited to too many other weddings. One of the few other weddings I went to were often near where a relative lived. I had someone to crash with and there was a level of forgiveness when it came to attire.

To be blunt; you might want to be upfront. Hell; tell him your tapped. Be upfront that you only planned to do this once and it is getting tedious. You don’t need a reason, just tell him it is not something you can entertain.

As for your future daughter in law, have a “heart-to-heart” with her. In your private conversation, explain that it has tapped you out financially and emotionally. Make it up to her by being a sympathetic ear when she needs help. Do your best to not be a “monster-in-law” but a cherished family member.


I don’t imagine that I will have a shortage of emails to answer. I would love to start doing this for anyone that sends me an email. If this is you; email us at

If you hate advice columns; I don’t blame you. If it isn’t soft people giving advice; it is someone trying to justify acting like an insensitive asshole. Till next week.

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July 19, 1989: A Day That The Human Race Should Know

  • A repost w/ additional commentary. This flight was evidence where people worked well together, especially the passengers of United 232. This is partial evidence where people keeping a level head helped save lives and not endanger others.
  • Karens and Kens should learn from this

United Airlines Flight 232

I was a little kid the first time I saw the VHS grainy footage of a fiery plane crash shot through a fence. I might have not known what was going on, but I know that it wasn’t good. It didn’t sound great either.

What I didn’t know is that event was evidence that there are a few great heroes out there. It might have taken a small amount of tragedy to let them rise to the occasion, but rise they did. It wasn’t just the normal figures that we looked up to.

Without delving into the mechanical reasons why the plane failed to arrive as sent, it took a mathematical event to force a passenger into a role he had no intentions on taking. Dennis Fitch, who was a “training check airman” with United, was a passenger. He rose to help the crew salvage the flight.

(The plane had a rear engine loss and lost hydraulic power to important controls, making it nearly impossible to level and control its elevators.)

Fitch, after the crew unsuccessfully made efforts to gain control, joined up with the crew to help. They made observations to see what they could do. It wasn’t pretty.

The decision to use the throttles to control their altitude and steering wasn’t the most desirable, but it was the hand that was dealt. Fitch had experience doing this in a simulator.

The captain of the flight, Al Haynes, kept a clear head in setting up an emergency landing at a nearby airfield. He had enough wits about him to crack a joke or two, knowing that it would be a “miracle” if he could get the “bird” down.

It wasn’t just one person throwing his weight around. The whole team worked in a beautiful dance to get the flight on the ground. They couldn’t fly straight, having to circle around to turn into their final heading.

If you don’t know the full story, UA Flight 232 went down taking 112 lives. But there were 184 people that survived, a few passengers had walked out of the airplane.

This would not have been possible if it weren’t for the flight attendants managing the passengers and keeping the panic down. (I had seen a few of the flight attendants during speeches years after the crash. They needed to take a bow for their part of what could have been worse).

The unsung “heroes” were victims of happenstance. National guardsmen and shift change personnel made the triage/recovery possible, many were onsite or near the hospital when the opportunity rose. The townspeople even showed an amazing level of consideration to the families of the passengers. (This was reflected during many of the speeches that I heard from surviving crew members).

Many don’t know that the landing was never duplicated when some of the best pilots were put in simulators. We never want to repeat it, but this was listed as one of the few times that crew resource management helped make things better than they would if everyone was fighting themselves.

(Please note: Many of the pilots and crew struggled with the deaths of their passengers for years. They didn’t get a big head although they never accepted the title “hero”. But thousands of people still shower them with our gratitude).

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