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Moved to North Dakota this fall. We heard that summers are fun and winter is beautiful. We think there is no more beautiful a place in the whole world!
December 8 – 6:00 PM It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic, we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!
December 9 – We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the best idea I’ve ever had! Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks.
This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life!
December 12 – The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment! My neighbor tells me not to worry- we’ll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we’ll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I’ll never want to see snow again. I don’t think that’s possible. Bob is such a nice man, I’m glad he’s our neighbor.
December 14 – Snow, lovely snow! 8 inches last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn’t realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I’ll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn’t huff and puff so.
December 15 – 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4×4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife’s car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that’s silly. We aren’t in Alaska, after all.
December 16 – Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.
December 17 – Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should’ve bought a wood stove, but won’t admit it to her. God! I hate it when she’s right. I can’t believe I’m freezing to death in my own living room.
December 20 – Electricity’s back on, but had another 14 inches of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling! Took all day. The damn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but. they said they’re too busy playing hockey. I think they’re lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they’re out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they’re lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he’s lying.
December 22 – Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white shit fell today, and it’s so cold, it probably won’t melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob-who has a plow on his truck-for the rest of the winter, but he says he’s too busy. I think the asshole is lying.
December 23 – Only 2 inches of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she, nuts?!! Why didn’t she tell me to do that a month ago. She says she did but I think she’s lying.
December 24 – 6 inches – Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the son of a bitch who drives that snow plow, I’ll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling, and then he comes down the street…at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I’ve just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents…but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.
December 25 – Merry f—ing Christmas! 20 more inches of the damn slop tonight – snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she’s a fricking idiot. If I have to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” one more time, I’m going to feed her through a chipper shredder.
December 26 – Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She’s really getting on my nerves.
December 27 – Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze; plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me $4,400 to replace all my pipes.
December 28 – Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. The BITCH is driving me crazy!!!
December 29 – 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?
December 30 – Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver, and now he is suing me for a million dollars, not only for the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine more inches predicted.
December 31 – I set fire to what’s left of the house. No more shoveling.
January 8 – Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed ???
-Author Unknown
I get to play Army and then claim it’s actually work.
Mine is a pretty sweet hustle.
Pride is the alpha sin. It is what got Satan expelled from heaven. It is what pushed Adam and Eve out of the garden. All three aspired to be like God. Everything else — covetousness, gluttony, murder, and the rest — they all spawn from pride.
It is such a privilege to do what I do. I do love it so. I am ever amazed that I get to write for gun magazines. It is literally a dream come true for me.
As a result, I love hearing from you guys. Most of the feedback is positive, but that is to be expected. After all, if folks wrote in complaining about how bad I sucked all the time, I’d expect to be fired in short order. However, sometimes your commentary is not quite so glowing. I got one of those yesterday.
A reader objected to my inclusion of pictures of myself in sundry uniforms in support of my historical pieces. The specific charge was that of pridefulness. The actual verbiage was, “Please, please, enough of Dr. Dabbs, MD’s planet-sized ego.” The implication was that I include so many photos of myself because I like seeing them in print. I felt that warranted a bit of explanation.
What’s With All of the Uniforms, Anyway?
I honestly don’t think it’s pride. However, I freely admit that this is likely something a prideful person might say. Were I to make a critical assessment, I would more accurately propose rank childishness.
I get to make-believe and then tell the IRS it’s actually work. I like to think the inclusion of the period uniforms and gear sort of sets me apart from my peers. I always felt that this added flavor to what might otherwise be dry historical pieces.
My buddy Mark at World War Supply is honestly at fault. Mark is a friend and fellow paratrooper from way back. His website is a veritable toy store of reasonably priced reproduction military gear. It’s like the Army surplus stores of my youth but with better stuff, a broader selection, and a handier commercial interface. We share a meal each year at the SHOT show. Mark and his delightful family are such cool people.
As to why you’re stuck staring at my ugly mug, I live half an hour outside of town. Nobody else in my world is so bored as to want to trek out to my place on my schedule to don suffocating woolen clothes for a 105-degree photoshoot in Mississippi. That would be stupid. That’s why I am the guy who does most of it.
The first time my wife shot pictures of me in my Waffen SS uniform, she rightfully opined that any political aspirations I might ever have harbored were now forever gone. Like all thinking folk, I have no use for Nazis. I maintain my SS mufti like a theatrical prop, not a political statement. However, there is simply no way to convince a modern digital audience of such nuances. Alas, there goes my key to the Oval Office (Does it even have locks?).
Words Have Power
The term pride has been curiously co-opted by the gender fluidity movement. I find that fascinating. We are certainly encouraged to take pride in our families, our children, and our country. It was no doubt this wholesome connotation that first drove the adoption of the term. However, to the Biblical purist, pride is universally bad. From a moral perspective, pride is not fundamentally dissimilar from wrath, envy, or sloth. It certainly isn’t something to be cultivated, encouraged, or promoted.
We are all of us susceptible to pride. Pride is an engine that drives the human animal to some seriously rarefied spaces. In 2022, the cosmetics industry accounted for some $49 billion in the U.S. Pride also sells guys a great many protein shakes and gym memberships. Though some fight these temptations more effectively than others, no one is immune.
Behold a peek behind the curtain. More often than not the “tactical”
Ruminations
So, I have been credibly accused of pridefulness, and I just crafted a column out of it. I will admit that the exercise in introspection was a healthy one for me. I suppose I am indeed prideful, but I assuage my conscience by rationalizing that we all are, to one degree or another. Like any other temptation, the goal is simply to resist it at every opportunity.
Let there be truth between us; I don’t plan on changing much. You’ll still be stuck looking at me for as long as FMG Publications will have me, and you choose to do so. You can take the boys out of second grade, but you’ll never take the second grade out of the boys. Mine is actually a pretty sweet hustle.
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