Month: August 2014

T

The Sweetwater Brewing Company

A few years ago, after losing my grandparents, my dad, and our son, in a rapid cascade of debilitating blows, I needed to get away.  Badly.  I was working seventy hour weeks as a narcotics detective, a notorious and occasionally dangerous grind of surveillance and door kicking, and what little time I had left was ...

L

Lights and Sirens

Post Ferguson, the pundits are working overtime to diagnose the various ills of American policing.  The conclusions are sometimes infuriating, sometimes hilarious, but almost never accurate, which is a bi-product, I suppose, of the simple fact that none of them have ever been cops, or know the first thing about actual police work.  So they ...

S

Stealing Signs

Last week we turned the ranch chores over to a hungry U of Oregon student, packed up the dogs, extra water, and a chainsaw, and blasted southeast out of the trees onto the basalt and granite outback country.  Through Silver Lake then, home of the Cowboy Dinner Tree, on through the beautiful, lazy curves of ...

W

War All the Time

Take a long, hard, look at this photo, if you can stomach it.  While you are looking at it, try to imagine, if you can, what is going through Mr. Foley’s mind.  I mean really try to imagine it.  Put yourself there, on your knees in the sand, hands bound behind your back, in an ...

H

High and Lonesome

Today, while running errands in town, I saw a couple of working cowboys in off the desert, young buckaroos who hadn’t changed clothes in a while, were covered with dust and dirt and old sweat, and possessed of that quiet, settled pride and polite confidence I once knew very well.  They were just passing through, ...

The People I Didn’t Kill

Author’s note:  this post was originally published in September, 2014, following the Ferguson, Missouri riots. The soul of a cop’s eyes Is an eternity of Sunday daybreak in the suburbs Of Juarez, Mexico. James Wright Yesterday, after a luxurious week of toiling underground, minding my own business, breaking the code of a hard poem by ...

I

In Defense of Wrestling

So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.  When the man saw he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man.  Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, ...

Jack Donovan

Masculinity and Tribalism

Adventures Fantastic

Reviews, Views, & Occasional News

Bunkhouse Chronicle

Field notes from the Figure 8 Ranch

MountainGuerrilla

Nous Defions!

Frontier Partisans

Field notes from the Figure 8 Ranch

WARFIGHTER

"Strength Through Honor"