Some Changes

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You may have noticed the “Hero Cops” category is no more (well, in the process; I still need to figure out how to change the header). The new category is “Off Topic” and it’s going to be just that – a place for posts not necessarily about cars or bikes or even Libertarian political stuff. It’ll be a place for almost anything – including your submissions. Send ’em in – and we’ll see!

The new book, Doomed, is almost done. Fingers crossed, it’ll be in print by spring. I’m thinking about making copies of it (and my other books) available through the web site (I mean here) and personalized, with a signature/greeting from me to you. We’ll see how that goes.

Meanwhile, thanks go out GC and LG and several others who sent in via the mails. Your stickers are coming (got the new supply just the other day).

We’re still struggling to make the pie chart green instead of red, though. depends on you to keep the wheels turning! The control freaks (Clovers) hate us. Goo-guhl blackballed us.

Will you help us? 

Our donate button is here.

 If you prefer not to use PayPal, our mailing address is:

721 Hummingbird Lane SE
Copper Hill, VA 24079

PS: EPautos stickers are free to those who sign up for a $5 or more monthly recurring donation to support EPautos, or for a one-time donation of $10 or more. (Please be sure to tell us you want a sticker – and also, provide an address, so we know where to mail the thing!)EPautoslogo




  1. It’s time for revolution, Jesse Ventura (James George Janos) says:- make them humble, put them all in a camel clutch.

    Mongols Motorcycle Club – Jesse Ventura and Howard Allan Stern

    Mongols MC Dago. Preening and posing in their colors like leather-clad pigeon peacocks. Still better than clovers.

    A One Percenter Okie… Is still an Okie. Nice ride though.

  2. The Priest and the Devil

    “HELLO, you little fat father!” the devil said to the priest. “What made you lie so to those poor, misled people?

    What tortures of hell did you invent and thunderously depict? Don’t you know they are already suffering the tortures of a real hell here in their earthly lives?

    Don’t you know that you and the authorities of the State are my representatives on earth?

    It is you that make them suffer the pains of hell with which you threaten them. Don’t you know this? Well, then, come with me!”

    The devil grabbed the priest by the collar, lifted him high in the air, and carried him to a factory, to an iron foundry. He saw the workmen there running and hurrying to and fro, and toiling in the scorching heat.

    Very soon the thick, heavy air and the heat are too much for the priest. With tears in his eyes, he pleads with the devil: “Let me go! Let me leave this hell!”

    “Oh, my dear friend, I must show you many more places.” The devil gets hold of him again and drags him off to a farm. There he sees workmen threshing the grain.

    The dust and heat are insufferable. The overseer carries a thick rawhide whip, and unmercifully beats anyone who falls to the ground overcome by hard toil or hunger.

    Next the priest is taken to the huts where these same workers live with their families—dirty, cold, smoky, ill-smelling holes. The devil grins. He points out the poverty and hardships which are at home here.

    “Well, isn’t this enough?” he asks. And it seems as if even he, the devil, pities the people. The pious servant of God can hardly bear it. With uplifted hands he begs: “Let me go away from here. Yes, yes! This is hell on earth!”

    “Well, then, you see. And you still promise them another hell. You torment them, torture them to death mentally when they are already all but dead physically. Come on! I will show you one more hell—one more, the very worst.”

    He took him to a prison and showed him a dungeon, with its foul air and the many human forms, robbed of all health and energy, lying on the floor, covered with vermin that were devouring their poor, naked, emaciated bodies. 7

    “Take off your silken clothes,” said the devil to the priest, “put on your ankles heavy chains such as these poor unfortunates wear; lie down on the cold and filthy floor—and then talk to them about a hell that still awaits them!”

    “No, no!” answered the priest, “I cannot think of anything more dreadful than this. I entreat you, let me go away from here!”

    “Yes, this is hell. There can be no worse hell than this. Did you not know it?

    Did you not know that these men and women whom you are frightening with the picture of a hell hereafter—did you not know that they are in hell right here, before they die?”

    – story found written on the Siberian cell wall of Realist Féodor Dostoyevsky

    • Tor, I had a lay preacher tell me the same thing as I lay on the floor of a dungeon. He grabbed my arm and imparted an energy to body and spirit alike. It was then I knew at least one man had more than words, that his convictions went further than the hot air I had been exposed to till then. He never mentioned an old rugged cross nor a hill far away. He called me brother and said my days in hell would only end when I took my final breath. He said nothing about taking Jesus as my savior nor of grace. I’d like to see the man again.

      • If only you could go back there to that time. Knowing what you know now. And enlist his help in freeing everyone from that hell on earth. Prisoner, jailer, and judge alike. All of them just prisoners there, as are we here, of our own device.

        At least I’ve gotten a good room in the hotel I’m never gonna check out of.

        In school, there was one Father who gave all the kids high-fives and we all liked him a lot, myself included.

        Even in the most brutal oppressive institutions, which the Catholic Behemoth most certainly is.

        There can be found a kind a just man. A simple authentic human being.

        So rare these days, far rarer now than then. But I can’t tell you why.

        Nothing’s wrong as far as I can see
        I make it harder than it has to be
        and I can’t tell you why

        Aren’t we the same two people who live
        through years in the dark?

        Every time I think she’d walk away
        Something makes her turn around and stay
        And I can’t tell you why

        She never seems to worry. She Just holds on tight. Gonna pick her up later at LAS on her 11 o’clock flight.

        Been lucky thus far, and stuff, just hope I never learn, sometimes love just ain’t enough


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