One thing is for sure, when the light is shown on a evil insect it runs and hides or defriends you from Facebook

For every little insect that is a pest or at least a nusiance they all scurry into the dark or hide if a light gets shown on them. One of the worst are human northern Yankees. Many this election season are putting their money and votes on the Republican Party to bail out a nation that has been lost ever since the treaty was signed by Grant and Lee. Abe Lincoln was while maybe not a complete liar, was the stone carver of what we refer today as a Marxist. Yankees can't be trusted, no matter how much they cry and squeek. As for me I'm voting straight on the Confederate States Party lines. But that's not what I came here now to write.
Here's the story. Was at the good old Legal having a brew to get some relief from things at the Lair, when I was overhearing although I wasn't trying to, but heard some people yapping about the local dragstrip here. Fine I thought, this is right up our alley, what it turned out was right up our anus, mine even worse. So one's lady pal at this so called pow wow, sold real estate. Said she could set things in motion for a bar etc here. So we went, looked at several. For the price, up to a point the one main one was (and I'm finding out why they didn't) one that although not represented by a realtor, was for sale. Until after looking it all over, figuring out the limitations and finally saying no, by order of the Charter President. Told this lady, that, thought it was done, but, she kept coming. All the while so damn helpful, introducing people to me, me to them, attending a few functions two of which I bit my lip not to say what I wanted to say, finding out that she had told the Chamber or they told her, not to have anything to do with a borderline Outlaw biker club, let alone me. I hate backstabbers , scallywags  and carpetbaggers. As long as I was treating and buying I was a saint, she was showing me the town. The minute I said no way and took a different path, she defriended me on Facebook, and so on. And this is someone I began to trust. And she wonders why I never gave her access to the Club's financials or phone numbers to club officers. 
As for me, I don't really care any more. As it is I don't have to do much if anything for anyone that I don't want to, I get a comfortable pension from the Marines, Most of my bills are paid, if not all, my rides except one which is getting repaired is paid for. I have a suitable tinker shop, here. My life is fine. I do the radio station and bar & grill for my service to the Club(s). I don't get one penny for it, and why? Because most of the club(s) members are people and friends you make in combat and military service are ones there are no replacement for. We all depended on each other. As such, to keep my mind from going bonkers I do my jobs for the Club(s). If it were not for that, I'd stay home, watch TV and kick back for the rest of my life. 
Okay then, went to the Memorial tribute whatever it was here, this morning, wasn't going to, but decided at the last minute, only because Lisa said she might go. First, I nearly got up when this one old fart from the VFW, got up and was yapping about the history of Memorial Day. He droned on about how it was Decoration Day and all, I hate that. Memorial Day was created by our daughters and women of the South, to honor those who died in the war tween the states. So then was the first of the program, that two members of each branch of service carry our branch's flag from the rear of the building, to the front. Only two Marines there, me and a just hardly dry behind the ears recruit. He in dress uniform, I'd have worn mine, but its a bit on the small side, now. Can't button it. But my Marine golf shirt served. So that was done. As for me and Evanston Wyoming, once as stated many times, once the radio station thing is up, and someone I trust running and managing it, as well as the bar & grill, is set. My butt is moved home to Idaho. With Wyoming, only being in my rearview mirror. Not my windshield. This last fiasco, with that Realty firm, was the last rock on the mules back, let Evanston drown in its own conceit, and arrogance. 
TTYLY