In an unannounced move, it appears that YouTube has pulled all ads from gun related videos. You might be thinking that is is a good thing and are happy about the decision, but you would be wrong. Thanks to the removal of any revenue that creators use to cover costs and even make a living, YouTube gun channels are in danger of disappearing forever.
Even our own channel, TFB TV, is in grave danger if the new change sticks.
While some gun channels will be able to sustain themselves through services like Patreon, channels like ours that have a small Patreon support base will suffer greatly. This means content could be reduced quite a lot, creators will move on and no longer devote the time to making videos for you to enjoy, and the big YouTube gun guys that rely on it for a living will either have to find another way to create the income to pay their bills or even cover the costs associated with filming.
What can we do about it? Nothing really. Sadly Google makes their decisions and sticks to it. What you can do is support your favorite content creators through whatever donation site they are a member of.
You can find the TFB TV Patreon page here: http://www.patreon.com/tfbtv
Please consider visiting our Patreon page and pitching in a buck or two a month so that James, myself, and the rest of the TFB TV crew can keep the videos coming like you have become accustomed to regardless of what Youtube decides.
You Tube was founded by three guys who had started PayPal (an anti-gun entity). Personally, I’ve no funds lying around to contribute to Patreon or anyone else. A while back You Tube was purchased bu GOOGLE, also infamous for it’s anti-gun politics.
See a trend here?
They have their own political agenda, and enforce the same. Hell, it’s their company! Many folks have voted with their virtual feet away from Pay Pal. I presume they will do the same away from You Tube.
As for Guffaw in AZ, I’ve a Pay Pal link, because I need funding. And I’ve a You Tube link, because I like movies and videos. I also post pictures of many ‘famous’ female celebrities, some of whom are openly anti-civil rights folks. But, they are there, because they are pretty. (that infamous traitorous bitch is not among my collection of photos, and never will be! I have some standards.)
… and I’m not even an old Jewish woman!
(My blogpost title is marked as a trademark, as the phrase is now legally linked with Life Alert™, the ad where I stole the phrase.)
(Yeah, yeah, political correctness – watch the original ad!)
One of my jobs is to retrieve the mail. We share one of those communal mailboxes about 100 steps from our front door. (I miss having a house with a mail chute built – in! But I digress.)
So last night I go out to retrieve the mail. Undoubtedly ads, solicitations, bills and perhaps collection notices, all for our enjoyment.
I noticed there was a significant breeze, cool, but not cold.
And no one else was outside to enjoy it.
On my return trip, I did exactly that. I tripped. I suspect ‘Ed Sullivan’ (the really big shoe)* caught on one of those dividers they place in concrete sidewalks.
And down I went, pitching forward, my eyeglasses flying forward.
The ‘good news’ is I reverted to old karate training (from a Bruce Tegner book?) Instead of putting my arms out straight (ensuring a break or sprain), I placed them as if going down in a push-up – to absorb some of the shock. (Having a fused right hip, I am unable to bend all my joints and roll.)
I hit the sidewalk, felt some pain in my palms, and left ribs.
(Ok, so I didn’t do it perfectly. It’s only been 50 years or so.)
I rolled on my left side and began inventory. Hands, wrists, arms, no apparent sprains or breaks. Pain in my ribs, just below my left chest. It hurt a little when I breathe. Palms hurt, but not any abrasions. Glasses unscratched and unbent!
Now for the fun part. For a few years now, getting up off a flat surface has been challenging. To say the least. If I have foot stools, or something low and stable I can pull myself up on, incrementally, I’m golden.
If things are just flat, not so much. (not being able to bend like normal folks, and having less body strength in my arms and left leg)
And, while I did yell aloud upon impact (a kiai?), no one came outside to investigate. It was 1940 hours, and dark.
What to do, what to do?
I considered, for about two seconds, crawling across the sidewalk, to a narrow grassy area to the colored gravel adjacent to the townhouse stucco wall. There, using the wall (I reasoned) I could get a purchase and pull myself up!
Crawling, especially across gravel with sore ribs didn’t have much appeal to me, which is why I only thought about it for a couple seconds.
I know! I’Il call J., my roommate! She had said she was going to join me downstairs shortly.
Of course, sometimes she goes back to her nap, and turns off her phone! (911?)
I called, and she answered. She is recovering from shoulder surgery – there is no way she can pull me up…
I explained to her what had happened, and asked her to bring the aluminum patio chair out to me, that it might work for me to get myself up.
No dice! It was to high for me to get enough leverage. I suggested she knock on neighbor’s doors, until she found some help. Failing that, it was 911 for sure!
I think it was on her third try. Neighbors we didn’t know (and how sad is that?), a nice young man who was active in martial arts and sports medicine (a Twilight Zone moment, to be sure!) came, assessed me before touching me, then lifted me to my feet as if it were no big deal(!) He walked J. and I to our door, not letting go until he was certain I was ambulatory. He asked where all the blood was from – I didn’t know there had been any! He said I should get ‘checked out’ (as if I were in my eighties and broke my hip). I thanked him profusely.
Turns out I led with my chin**. A couple of abrasions that wouldn’t stop bleeding until I shaved off the kung-fu beard! (A disappointment for J.) I may have to grow it back. We’ll see.
Blood? What blood?
The never-ending bleed
And I have had broken ribs a couple of times. These are only bruised. I take pain meds for ongoing conditions, anyway. No biggie. Unless I cough, sneeze, reach for something, bend – you get the idea!
Getting old ain’t for sissies, no siree!
*Ed Sullivan was a variety showman on TV from the late 40’s ’til the early 70’s. He used to say, “We have a really big show – pronouncing it as shoe. Youngsters, ask your parents! I wear a built up shoe on my right leg – hence the clever nickname.
**Faces are VERY vascular (they can bleed a lot).
I was reminded of the book The Falcon and the Snowman, wherein a spy was caught (according to the official FBI story) by someone determining the suspect liked falconry (hence his clever nickname), so agents lay-in-wait for him in Coos Bay, Oregon (a big falconry place), and captured him!
Truth was (as is so often the case), is one of his friends gave him up!
Brownells Expands into Tactical Falconry
First they started selling ammunition, then they opened a retail gun store, then they started selling guns online and now the logical conclusion: tactical falconry. They are also manufacturing the first ever Falcon Night Hunter Owl Conversion Kit …
Brownells, known for its incredible selection of firearms and firearm accessories, proudly announced today it has become the internet’s largest tactical falconry dealer. Brownells’ new Birds of Prey product line features hundreds of items dedicated to enabling private citizens, law enforcement officers and military personnel to engage in the ancient art of falconry for the purposes of self-defense, hunting and homeland protection.
The new line features well-trained tactical birds ranging in size from the sub-sub-compact Black-Legged Falconet up to the full-size Steller’s Sea Eagle – an offensive raptor designed for maritime operations.
For customers in arctic conditions, the Birds of Prey line offers Gyrfalcons in traditional Snowy Tundra camo as well as a special Ghostly White Limited Edition, exclusive to Brownells.
Also available are a full line of tactical bird accessories, gear and supplies.
Some of the notable, cutting edge tactical falconry products include:
- Miniature Tactical Falcon Pants
- Falcon Action Camera Mounts
- PreyVision™ Falcon Spotting Scopes
- Falcon Handler First Aid & Suture Kits
- Tactical Falcon Treats
- Widening Gyre® Tactical Falcon Signal Whistles
- TalonHone® File & Pedicure Kit
- Falcon Night Hunter Owl Conversion Kit
“Housing the falcons has been the biggest challenge for us,” said Chad Martin, Brownells COO. “Well trained as they may be, we’ve noticed they tend to get nervous around lift trucks.”
Some of the newest tactical falconry products in the line come from the innovative company Critical OperRaptor Dynamics™. Miniature Adhesive Falcon OperRaptor Beards are available in several colors and sizes and are guaranteed to resist bloodstains and not jettison during flight.
Also from Critical OperRaptor Dynamics™ is a large assortment of Picatinny-Compatible Falcon Perch Rails to let the tactical falconry practitioner park his bird on his favorite AR-15 handguard, scope rail or ballistic helmet interface
Yes, this an April Fools joke. No falcons were harmed in this ridiculous hijinks. Actually, we’ve never even seen a real falcon.
FALC! Wouldn’t that have been cool?!
I don’t drive much, anymore. Between having a beater car (when my roomie’s car isn’t available – thanks J.!), the cost of maintenance (which I can’t afford) and gas, and the whack-jobs on the road…
Speaking of whack-jobs! (See above)
I understand you don’t want to climb into the back seat of the car in front of you, both for safety reasons and just general courtesy.
BUT IT SEEMS 6 OUT OF 10 CARS KEEP A DISTANCE AT A STOP LIGHT OF GREATER THAN ONE CAR LENGTH! SOMETIMES MORE THAN TWO!!
Have so many been rear-ended they are paranoid?
It’s just an annoyance if there are only two cars stopped at an intersection. But if there are 12 cars in three lanes, and 60% of them are ‘keeping their distance’ of more than a car length, it causes back-ups! Sometimes back to the previous stop light!
And I’ve NEVER seen anyone getting a citation for being stopped too far back – if there even is such a thing?
Personally, I keep a safe distance, usually enough to see the license plate in front of me. A reasonable distance.
This phenomena seems to have developed over the past ten years.
What happened to cause this?
(courtesy of Dave the
I loathe Chase Bank. Actually, I loathe ALL BANKS! Remember Christensen’s Law – Banks are NOT in business to serve you. They are in business to make money. (See also the insurance company corollary).
I am SO HAPPY I am not a Chase Bank customer. Examples:
- Getting in-and-out of vehicles is a painful proposition for me. But their drive thrus are not at a good angle for me to access. So, I must go inside to the foyer ATM. (Why am I going there, if I am not a customer? My roommate is, and it’s just simpler for me to visit my Credit Union, obtain cash, and go to her bank to make a deposit into her account. She doesn’t want a check.) Half the time when I do this, the indoor ATM is out-of-service. They suggest the drive thru – which is difficult for me to access. I went up to the inside counter and was told as I was not a customer, I could not make a deposit – WITH CASH! X-(
- Another time the indoor ATM was out-of-service. I asked if they could take my deposit (a postal money order) inside. I was told they could – If I were on the account! Otherwise NO – try the drive-thru ATM! X-(
- I went the other day to make the foyer ATM deposit. It worked swimmingly! It even took all the cash w/o rejecting any bills! (usually it rejects three or four) THEN, no receipt was issued, and the machine read OUT-OF-SERVICE! I went inside, and the one clerk said he would be just a minute – he was working the drive thru ATM transactions! Maybe five minutes later he got to me. I explained my predicament. The ATM had taken my money, issued no receipt, did not return the money, then went out-of-service! He referred me to a more senior teller, a woman. She listened to my tale of woe, and said she would get back to me. Then she left! At length, she returned, and told me the funds were in her account, and not to worry. But, she could not issue me a receipt, as I was not a customer! (Even though the ATM regularly does!) She offered me her business card, if my roomie had any questions! I responded something more needed to be done! OR I WAS CALLING THE POLICE TO REPORT A ROBBERY! Eventually, we agreed she could write on her business card the amount of the funds had been deposited – and sign it!
Poor customer service, rudeness, failure to accommodate a disabled person, I could to on…
They suggested my roomie add me to her account. That might solve some of the issues, but in no way do I wish to be affiliated with this particular banking institution!
NOW, as to my Credit Union! I almost closed my account there, after over twenty years, because they proudly announced a few years back they would gladly accept illegal aliens as customers! (Yeah, nothing like furthering criminal activity and money laundering for a profit!) GRRR!
So my roomie J and I travel together ‘across town’ yesterday from the suburbs to Central Phoenix, to the hospital where she is scheduled for rotator cuff surgery on March 21. This is her preop visit, blood work and X-rays. And, of course, paperwork.
And after an hour or so of that nonsense, we traveled farther West to (Jack Wheeler’s) Original Hamburger Works for a late lunch. (We add the prefix Jack Wheeler, proudly. He was the office manager of Tom Ezell’s Investigations and Polygraph. We did pre-employment polys for Hamburger Works (when it was legal to do so). And, if we said we were going out for lunch to Hamburger Works, he always emphatically corrected us, adding the ORIGINAL to the name, in that great, bass voice he was known for!
Sadly, Jack passed in 1985. Pre-employment polygraphs stopped in 1986, except for police, etc.
After a yummy lunner (a late lunch), we headed back home.
J had a prescription she wanted to drop off at her Walgreens, so I headed there before home. I was driving (as she had alcohol, I had not), and driving her Honda Element remains slightly foreign to me. (no pun intended) But all was well.
Until I made the turn into the Walgreens’ parking lot, circling the building to the drive-through pharmacy window (the building used to be a bank).
As I made the turn, some fool in a pickup truck backed out. As I was driving behind him! I sped up (as best I could in a small lot) and performed an evasive maneuver.
But, he clipped us!
I pulled forward out of the path of parking lot traffic, and he pulled back into his space. I exited to inspect the damage. Best I could tell was a couple of scratches on the plastic part just below the fuel opening. No serious damage, but noticeable.
I turned to greet the other driver and exchange information. HE had hit US on private property.
And he had backed out again and left!
(I’m reminded that over 10% of Arizona’s motorists are uninsured!)
I had not taken a cell phone picture or recorded his license plate number, because it appeared he was stopping.
And we have more pressing financial issues currently than the $500 deductible for scratches.
(FTC – Neither Original Hamburger Works, Honda or Walgreens gave us anything! Tom Ezell’s no longer exists, as far as I know – Tom passed a couple years ago.)
or sick comedy. I don’t know which.
One if my many maladies is I have arthritis. It seems to rear it’s ugly head in colder, more humid weather.
Fortunately, I live in a (mostly) dry desert. 😛
I went to the grocery yesterday, and reviewed the over-the-counter preparations. (A through G?)
Most were made of menthol, along with some kind of delivery system – cream, aerosol, etc. I already have some Icy (something) at home. For me, it doesn’t work as advertised, it just burns. 😦
Then I saw this cream made with emu oil. Another preparation which had been recommended to me. Preparation E?
I happily spent the $12 and took the 4 ounce jar home.
Remember TRIOPENIN? From SNL? The pill bottle of pain medication impossible for the elderly person to open, eventually ending in a hammer breaking the bottle?
I thought it was real!
This simple jar with a simple screw-top lid. Instructions state do not use if the safety seal is broken. If I could unscrew the lid, I could verify the seal was intact, or not!
Banging the jar lid on the counter. Pounding the lid with the jar upside down. Submerging the top of the jar in hot water to make it expand. Vice grips and a large ‘C’ clamp.
I began wondering if some teenager superglued the lid shut, as a painful prank?
EVENTUALLY, some combination of the efforts above prevailed, coupled with prying between the jar and the lid with the sharp edge of a Buck-type knife.
THEN, of course, I had to remove the safety seal. No, it had not been molested.
And, I finally got to the emu-oil preparation. Initial trials are moderately successful. We will see about the longer term.
I’m now wondering if ALL the jars are similarly sealed?
not this brand
FTC – I purchased the cream, then had to painfully wrestle with it, just to get it open. That should be enough for you.
You know the rest!
With both my roommate and I having infirmities and physical limitations (along with no longer being 22!) sometimes things get procrastinated about, or just ignored.
One of those things is our back ‘yard’.
Living in a small townhouse, the yard isn’t particularly large, but my roomie, with her love for the flora, has numerous plants, both potted and in the ground, which sometimes require tending.
And between recent other adventures and doctor’s appointments, the yard has not seen proper maintenance.
And a number of ‘volunteer’ plants have been added to the mix by Mother Nature. Like lantana, which has taken over to the extent we cannot reach the hose bib or electric box!
Now, there is a time constraint, as her first shoulder surgery is scheduled for March 21. And I suspect nurse will be added to the title chief cook and bottle washer for me. And, with her right arm immobilized for a minimum of six weeks, her physical abilities will be severely limited.
So, Thursday last, I carved out some time in the morning to take a stab at the yard. Because it was necessary. (It didn’t help a number of massive fronts were coming in from California starting Friday!)
(the white structure on the right is a non-functional Jacuzzi – now a plant stand)
I popped a significant pain pill, waited for it to kick in and headed out. Wishing in all seriousness I had a machete ala Indiana Jones.
I had a rake, a shovel, and a weed-eater.
The plan was to work until it was done – no excuses! Then, the pain pill wore off. At about two hours. When not involved in manual labor, they last four or more!
So much for THAT idea.
BUT, I cleaned up 75-80% of the yard, obtained access to the bib and the utility box (getting stabbed by the century plant at least twice!), and trimmed back the palm tree by the back gate as to only get attacked by one palm frond, in lieu of three.
With palms like these, who needs anemones? – Thelonious Monk (from the liner notes for the Dave Brubeck ‘Take Five’ album)
More obviously needs to be done. But that’s for another day.
And Friday and Saturday I paid for my good deed…
My arthritis kicked in big time, as did muscle pain, general tiredness and malaise.
And my doc wants me to limit use of NSAIDS, having over-used them for the past twenty years or more.
(not to be confused with The Mouse On The Moon, or other Duchy of Grand Fenwick tales!)
“Welcome to the drain, gentlemen!” 😛
My roommate and I share both household upkeep and maintenance. To the best of our abilities. Between disabilities, health conditions, arthritis, age, pain and shared whining, sometimes things are not as pristine as either of us would like.
(The fact we both have an over-sufficient amount of ‘stuff’ doesn’t help, either!)
Of course, this had little to do with today’s story…
Being the male in the house, many (not all) of the yuckier tasks fall to me. And sometimes, it’s just the “luck of the draw”.
Today was one of those days.
The past couple of days while visiting the shower, I noticed what we always called when I was married (back in the 80’s) the mouse on the drain. That is, a disc of hair jetsam on top of the drain grate, starting to inhibit shower drainage.
Back in the 80’s, it was roughly the size of a half dollar, and easily disposed of.
And, of course, not wearing my corrective lenses in the shower, it could have been something else – as in this case it was, a small round grey plastic comb. (My roomie and I share a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.)
And she does many hair-related things in there, with a multitude of chemicals and preparations. I have shampoo and conditioner.
Fast forward to this morning. Having picked up the plastic comb, I thought I’d be free of the ‘mouse on the drain’.
Not so fast, there, bucko!
The real mouse on the drain – or, in this case the rat or nutria(!), had wrapped itself into the workings of the grate, and was hanging (yuch!) down into the drain proper!! And the shower floor was beginning to fill with water!
Fortunately, my hair is in need of cutting and is maybe a third of an inch long. So, I’m thinking I’m not the main culprit. (ignoring body hair additions here for discretion).
I was able to complete my shower and listened to the slow-but-inevitable noisy drainage, fortunately before it crested into the bathroom proper. Then, I picked up a proper tool to remove the drain cover (a long hemostat that is left in the bath for this very purpose – what earlier functions it may have had I can only imagine! 🙂 )
And took it upon myself to remove the long, tangled, fist-sized wet hair clumps from the grate and dispose of them.
After having done that, I policed the opening of the drain pipe for any additional hair/soap remnant escapees.
And replaced the grate.
I washed my hands and exited the bath.
I’m hoping next time I will notice the impending crest a day or so sooner. And be able leave the mouse on the drain for someone else…
But trying, nevertheless.
With my knee being ‘iffy’, and The Horrible Chair, just going downstairs can be a challenge.
And, when my roommate having breathing difficulties and sometimes staying in bed, it’s up to me to be (as my Father would label himself) the chief cook and bottle washer!
That is, take care of the livestock and fetch medicines, water, soda and food for the ‘infirmed’.
I’ve no complaint about so doing – after all, it was my roommate who saved me from possibly having to live on the street with my income decreased and I lost my home.
The ‘problem’ (and this is a joke, folks) is the livestock in question sometimes makes it difficult to do chores. Because, they, too, want attention.
Or just to be in the way!
The first hurdle is (are?) the stairs. I know, not livestock. But just going down them can be painful. And sometimes the kitten (Belle) plays the ‘can I trip him on the stairs’ game. (Does this count as a second hurdle?)
Hurdle Two – the Cage. (In no way resembling Star Trek-TOS episode!) We have taken to giving the livestock the run of the downstairs. We used to pen up the older dogs in the downstairs bath-as a makeshift kennel. And that worked for many years. But, as they have aged (both 16 now), their hearing and vision has diminished. And D.J., especially, gets scared in the dark when he cannot move about freely. This wouldn’t be a problem, except he starts barking. One yelp every eight seconds or so. ALL NIGHT. Or until he finally falls asleep. The yelping resumes when he awakens – even at 0300! Letting them go free gives them enough ambient light to patrol the downstairs and see enough not to bark.
Unless, of course, a stray cat appears in the back yard. No plan is perfect.
(Back to the cage) We have a ‘cage’ kennel we have used for Lola (the puppy-now two, but forever nicknamed as such) which also is just the right size to block the dogs from going upstairs. They are supposed to use the designated paper by the back door, but sometimes they like to sneak to the upper landing. And we don’t like that.
SO, I’ve descended the stairs, and prepare to move The Cage out-of-the-way, when Gracie becomes involved. She likes to sit on top of said cage and add an addition three or four metric tons to it’s weight. HER nickname is BAC – for Big Ass Cat! Plus, she can be kinda snotty if asked to move and might hiss at you!
Gracie aka B.A.C.
Now that we’ve made it down the stairs, and moved the cage, there’s the kitten, again. No, she’s not gone away. If I walk past The Horrible Chair, she will jump up on the seat and demand tribute! Which means flopping over and belly rubs! (the cat, not me) I must admit this is not much of a trial, and rubbing the belly of a purring kitten is quite pleasant. 😛
She can continue with an additional trial, following me incessantly and meowing tiny mews, until I either fill up the water, the food, or change the cat box. She always lets me know. But every time I walk by The Horrible Chair I must pay! 🙂
Okay, okay! I know. Animals are a blessing, and three (or four) interactions with them first thing in the morning is great! (Except for the B.A.C.!)
And four is not twelve. Perhaps I need to rethink this. But The Three or Four Challenges of Hercules just doesn’t have the same ring to it. 😛