Maybe you have it too. Symptoms include spending your two-week paycheck on a 1911, going shooting in the bitter cold, and gun shopping less than two weeks after an extravagant .45 purchase. Also if the number of guns you own exceeds the number of candles on your last birthday cake that could also be a sign. Hello my name is Adam, and I have gunitus. The guys at the gun store know me by name but it's a small town and one of them goes to my church so that doesn't really mean a whole lot. One time...

When I was a small child in the dee south the family made their living by th' sweat o' th' brow, literally. They were into hard, backbreaking work, the main industries being pulp wood, logging, and digging and hauling pine stumps. During the rainy season they might not work for a week at a time cause the woods were too muddy for the trucks.

When my brother graduated high school in 1952 it was assumed he wood join the crew and become a wood cutter. My brother begged them to modernize,...

(i.e. Here be disjointed musings.)

The place I grew up had many small quirks, one of which was perhaps not so small. One of the locals had a restored P-51 Mustang and frequently took it for a low loop over the orchards and vineyards that surrounded my parents' house. As a young child I didn't much appreciate the living history that caused a racket and left everyone staring upwards, but as I grew older and learned what the P-51 was all about, I began to understand why people stopped...

Now, maybe it's not glamorized by the media and the gun rags as much as being a high speed, low drag, private military company contractor...but there's quite the life of glory and adventure to be led by their deskbound, completely non-violent, mercenary brethren; the freelance writer!

Sure, sure, we don't get to play with guns, or ride in helicopters, or play with guns while riding in helicopters, but we do okay for ourselves. I mean, three and a half cents a word is nothing...

I was born on a dark and stormy night and when I was born I was young, very young. So much for the Louis L'Amour style of writing.

I was born in Picayune, Miss. a depressing number of years ago. I have a few fleeting memories of the three to five year age. My first hard memories were of living on the old family homestead close to Oloh, Miss which is about halfway between Hattiesburg and Columbia. Our playground was in the swamps which were full of varmints and wild critters....