Category: Diary of a Wooley kid

Saturday, August 6, 2022: Running late for a big Desert Pigs cleanup in Minden, I was standing in my dump trailer, struggling to get a riding mower with flat tires out of it. I needed this trailer for that morning’s adventure 11 miles deep into the Pine Nuts.

The little tractor, and occupied camper trailer, and many piles of assorted junk filled my back yard, since my mother had just moved back there after getting evicted from her place. It was only a couple weeks after I had cleared my back yard of my extra vehicles and about 800 tires collected from Pig runs. Now it was filling back up.

Having dragged the heavy riding mower halfway over the ramp, with its larger rear wheels over the hump, I could feel something catch underneath. Annoyed and stressed about the lost time, I grabbed to front and snatched upward to free the front half of the riding mower.

*Snap*

I could hear the sound in my body. It was like a combination of a wet popping noise, combined with a corner of wafer board snapping. It felt like someone threw a trailer hitch into my back. The pain was the worst I had ever experienced. I rolled around in the trailer for a bit, expressing my displeasure with the sudden pain.

I apparently went into shock. Fortunately, my autopilot is a pretty dependable guy. He’s always looked out for us and used better common sense than me. His past accomplishments:

• Stopped me from falling down when my friends and I were passing each other out in high school. While I was completely checked out, he walked, and even told the others how this activity can cause brain damage.
• Brought a moving vehicle to a full stop on the side of the road once when I passed out while driving.
• Has been suspected of throwing hands while I’m under anesthesia, according to extra stitches and some questionable surgery notes. I don’t know what he told the colonoscopy folks, but they warned each other to watch out for me.
• Finished unloading the riding mower, apparently threw each 60-pound ramp about 10 feet, hooked up the trailer, loaded the gear, and parked it in front of my house.

Of course, I wasn’t around to experience any of these events, but with the exception of the back injury that morning, all had witnesses to see Autopilot drive the Phil. To this day, I can only remember hurting my back, then walking to the loaded truck and trailer parked out front, running.

I participated with the Pig run, mostly just filming, while taking all the over-the-counter pain killers I safely could. Finding out two days later that I had a spinal fracture, it made sense why that 22 miles of rough tail riding hurt so much.

After a weekend of activities, the following Monday was too painful to bear. A trip to the urgent care led to a trip to the X-ray, which revealed a lumbar fracture. I was in a brace for a few months after that, but was still able to participate in Desert Pigs adventures, as long as I was careful. From then on, my crew members have always been there to yell at me when I try to pick up something heavy.

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Today

I guess an L4 compression fracture never really heals. I mean, it sort of does, but it’s never right again. Pain is an every day thing, although with some tricks I learned in physical therapy, I’ve learned how to use back certain muscles to compensate. With this, I have been able to lift some heavy objects without the fear of injury.

While I have adapted somewhat, I am still limited. A couple of hours on a Pig run is usually enough to make me hurt a little for the rest of the day. Daily manual labor is not an option. Long car rides are also a pain. Even laying down hurts, due to the way my muscles get used to support my spine.

Thankfully, I can still feel my legs and have full control over my own plumbing. I will do what I can to make sure this remains the case.

Thank God for the vote yesterday from the Lyon County Board of Commissioners to approve the request from Copia Power Devco, LLC, for approval of a zone change to Planned Unit Development for the Monarch Data Center, a 4.6 million square foot, 1,000 Megawatt data center consisting of 8, two-story buildings up to 95 feet tall, a 500-MW battery energy storage system, a 500-MW natural gas backup system, an electrical substation, high voltage power lines and other accessory uses over two parcels subject to RR-20 zoning totaling 505.40 acres in accordance with the Monarch Data Center Specific Plan.

No really, thank God!

When I ran against Tammy Hendrix a couple years ago for the District 3 seat on the board, still calling myself a Republican, I lost to her 3 to 1 in the primary. The biggest issue Lyon GOP had with me: I am not a Christian.

Funded by some well-to-do zealots with an agenda to dominate every position of power in our county, Tammy Hendrix was the favorite pick of the Temu Turning Point, Calvary Chapel’s Community Impact Team. They had every Bible thumper in Lyon County going at me on social media for having the audacity to run, while not worshiping their Lord and Savior, Jesus H Christ.

Of course, lack of religion wasn’t the only reason some didn’t vote for me. Just off the top of my head:

• I talked smack about a deputy’s handling of a homeless vet, which pissed off the beloved Sheriff, prompting him to publicly not support me.
• The creepy coffee shop guy in Dayton was telling his customers that I “didn’t know the county ordinances”. I found that a weird statement, considering I am somewhat literate, and they are written in English and all are easily accessible.
• I had no PAC. There were a couple donors, and I ran the entire campaign on less than $3k, while Hendrix raised $30k to fight me. Needless to say, she had way more big signs.
• Certain people think I’m mean. But if they weren’t being those certain people, I’d probably be a lot nicer.
• I’m too short. No really – this was brought up a few times.

Mostly though, it was religion that sealed my political fate. I was labeled as immoral, even demonic by some. I didn’t fit the holy mold to hold office. And when I had a congregation of 500+ people voting against me in a primary, where maybe a couple thousand vote, I feel honored to have gotten a third of the votes!

I would not have prayed about it before voting on the Monarch Data Center. Even if I had my mind made up when I sat in the bid red chair, as a county commissioner, I would have been moved by the tribal representatives who were all angry they got left out of the process. I would have taken note of all the inconsistencies and half truths from the data center reps. Growing up as a simple, broke POS, I’d never hold myself higher than the public who filled the room to beg elected officials for a moratorium.

Had I won against Hendrix a couple years ago, I would have been the vote to stop the monster from destroying Yerington. For the first time, I actually regret not winning the election. Now I feel like it’s my fault for not being there for our County when they needed me.

NOTE: I am NOT planning to run again.

If you’ve been on enough adventures with Desert Pigs, you’ve probably seen things. Within the first year of this movement to pick up trash in public lands all over Nevada, we cleaned one scenic overlook in Dayton that was littered with hundreds of women’s panties.

Then later, only a few miles from the Dayton mass panty drop, we discovered a juniper tree surrounded by a massive amount assorted self-serving pleasure devices. 

My first blog on this site from August of 2021 featured a story about a FleshLight getting surrounded by Lyon County deputies in yet another part of Dayton.

This region’s wild hooker population has obviously been growing out of control in the past decade, based on their impact on public lands. 

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Clashing points of view

While some wild hooker groups don’t like me using this term, I keep it real and call them FERAL hookers. This doesn’t mean I support the BLM roundups, and I’m not trying to take any sides, I just think it’s wrong to call them all wild. 

Many argue that hookers bring in tourism to northern Nevada, while others are concerned about their environmental impact and increased incidents in neighborhoods and highways. Fencing and diversionary feeding has only been minimally effective in controlling populations, as demonstrated by the amount of often expensive sex toys still being found in towns all over Nevada.

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Are feral hookers from the local ranches? 

To get answers from the reclusive Nevada legal brothels, I was forced to go deep under cover, posing as a marketing manager for over 4 years. Enduring the daily grind of sorting the visual media of scantily clad women advertising their services to the internet and on print material for handouts, I learned the way of the sinners’ petting zoo.

The courtesans of Sagebrush, Bunny, Love, and KitKat ranches were all well fed and had safe shelter (which came with expensive room rent, 50% of their earnings back to the house, and weekly doctor checks). There were required company meetings called ‘tea parties’, which were nothing like the ones portrayed on HBO’s Cathouse back in the early 2000’s. We all dreaded them. Work meetings just suck everywhere, I guess.

During my mission at the legal brothels, I did witness a few crash-outs that led to ladies leaving in cabs, and there was rumor of one really weird one that snuck out at night through a dip under the back gate of the employee parking lot… even though they could all just walk right out the gates and leave anytime they wanted.

Fencing around the ranches, as the late rancher Dennis Hof explained, was never to keep the independent contractors or employees in, but rather to keep out the drunks, tweakers, and pissed off wives and girlfriends.

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Unsolved mysteries of adult novelties

There are still so many unanswered questions. Why so many rubber ding-dongs out there in the sagebrush? How do they seem to wiggle their way to remote areas of desert all over Nevada? Why is it so fun to stick them on our hoods when we drive the trails, then post them on TikTok, resulting in our accounts restricted? 

We may never know how the marital aids keep spreading to wilderness across the state’s public lands.

IMPORTANT SAFETY NOTE:

If you encounter a ball gag, anal beads, prostate massager, vibrator butt plug, or flesh light in the wild, do not pick it up with your bare hands. Do not keep it, and DO NOT slap your friend in the head with it, no matter how funny that would be. Wear protective gloves, and dispose of it in the trash immediately.