Well, I see where the cowardice came from. Memo to Armando:

So, I was at a parade today. In fact, my diesel rig was in it and I was driving it.

We had the unfortunate experience of following Jaime Herrera. Ridgefield Barbie rolled in at 11:00 in her bogus, campaign prop junker (filthy, by the way) ready to go and chipper. Her parents were there, among a surprisingly small number of others, given her practically occult establishment candidate cred.

What I found problamatic was the action of Herrera's father upon discovering I was driving said rig in support of another candidate, this time, for state house. This macho man took it upon himself to light up said candidate's campaign manager (who also happens to be Herrera's former state house campaign manager, come to think of it) over the fact that they were using my vehicle and or me to drive it. Quite obnoxious, that.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I really don't give a damn what Herrera's dad thinks of me or my efforts to inform the voters how corrupt, self-serving, unqualified and worthless as a state representative, let alone wholly-owned member of congress she would be.

But to attack a campaign manager of another campaign, when I am sitting in, or walking around my truck, 5 feet away, easily seen by him?

That takes the cowardice cake.

So, here's the memo to Armando: you have a problem with me?

Bring it to me. I get that those who've drank the empty suit's kool aid seem to have an extremely difficult time getting in my face about my positions. They have less difficulty attacking others.

You ain't the big man. In fact, you're nobody special. To go after someone else when I am RIGHT THERE?

That's cowardice.

Which, come to think of it, explains a lot about your daughter.

I will be at the next 12 parades or so. I'll be the one with the 4x8 in back, driving the humoungous red Ford F350 dually turbodiesel. You know the one... you were standing by it for at least an hour.

You feel the need to vent? Don't be like the rest of the winged monkeys. Come on up and tell me to my face. We'll chat about it, I'm sure.

But first, get used to seeing me around. Because both me and my blog will BE around as long as Ridgefield Barbie is running for anything from around here to represent me, let alone Congress.

And second, leave everyone else alone. You feel the need to bully someone?

You know how to find me.