Quaerendo Invenietis, Vladimir Solaratov

I had to do just one more post in honor of fellow blogger and soldier Vladimir Solaratov, who passed away earlier this month after living his last few months at the Grunt Ranch in Colorado among friends.  He was sent off with good whiskey and toasts from a whole house full of people on the day of his passing, and I exhort him with his own favorite Latin plea: “Seek and ye shall find,” from the Gospel of Matthew and the Sermon on the Mount.  It seems appropriate for him.  His whole life was lived in pursuit of understanding of what this life was all about.  He read more books of philosophy than I could count.  And his favorite movie was the 1999 Israeli western “Purgatory,” which was about old warriors trying to find their way into Heaven.  I know he’s figured out much of it by now.  Enjoy the knowledge, Bill, and resquiescat in pace, dear friend.

It’s no longer necessary to keep his identity a secret, but I don’t spill the beans on Bill Burtnette gratuitously, rather for the purpose of finally showing this photo of his esteemed war hero father, Claude Burtnette, who was even more a badass than Bill, if that’s possible.


1st Lt. Claude S. Burtnette flew primarily P-40 Warhawks during WW2 in the Pacific, getting a few shot out from under him, including one downed by Japan’s infamous fighter ace, Saburo Sakai, I think, who made such a close pass by him during a battle over Port Moresby, as “Burt” was hanging from his parachute, that he could see the gold tooth in the ace’s grinning mouth while he saluted an honored but defeated adversary.  His most esteemed decoration, however, came as a fighter-bomber, dropping a bomb down the snoot of a Japanese ship and single-handedly sinking her, despite the almost suicidal danger of doing so with all the ships guns blazing away at him.  Here he is getting the Distinguished Flying Cross pinned on by Lt. General George C. Kenney (below).

Dad getting DFC

Bill, himself, served three tours in Vietnam during the earliest days of that conflict, where he wore the beret as an Army Airborne Special Forces hunter and sniper.  During those tours he fought and killed Viet Cong in close combat and through scopes on M-14s and the earliest M-16s, earning Purple Hearts along the way, but refusing to wear or acknowledge the ones earned from personal mistakes (i.e. John Kerry moves), like getting perforated by particularly well-hidden punji sticks.

For the same reason that most don’t speak of their experiences in Vietnam during the 60s and 70s, the secrets and politics and incomprehensible bloodshed of the Indochine conflicts rendered many of Bill’s stories of his time there untellable.  But, that can’t completely be said of his later exploits on other continents.  Rather than the grim picture of pointlessness painted by Hollywood and the American Left, the reality of Vietnam inspired a vision in Bill that made him take the war on Communism very seriously.

During the next few decades, he hunted American, African and South American communists and assorted terrorists with gusto.  This caused him to fall into the company of some shady characters, such as Bill and Bernadine Ayers and Pablo Escobar, as well as world leaders, like Anastasio Somoza Garcia, 21st President of Nicaragua, for whom Bill enthusiastically shed blood, not just because Somoza threw world class parties for the people who served him.  It was chiefly because Somoza hated Communists, and also, perhaps, because he and Burtnette had both attended Hargrave Military Academy in Chatham, Virginia.

At some point, Bill ended up, as often happens in his line of business, working out of the Nation’s Capitol, doing some form of “intelligence” schtick.  Also not unnaturally, he managed to get married a few times during those days.  Lots of times, actually.  But his fate seemed to run against any of that type of life enduring for long.  That’s a shame.  I think he would have made a damn good father.  He was a good father to me, actually.

During later years, his decision not to work for people who would find themselves at odds with American soldiers extended his life but kept him more or less humble in means, except when it comes to important things, like dogs, ammo, shooting hardware and good Bourbon.  In this very recent photo, all four of those things are close by, since my Aussie shepherd is sitting under the pub table hoping for a few scraps after working hard to break Bill out of a physical therapy center for a drink and a few smokes. You may note the white hospital band on his wrist, indicating that he was in that bar against the rules and after breaking several local statutes.

In this shot, he looks a little worn, but he was really in pretty good shape considering the cancer surgery a few years back that replaced much of his spine with titanium.  That didn’t keep him from hitting the high power range every once in a while, as he is here, shooting my M1A at a 600 yard gong.

Since he passed away earlier in July, I’ve been going through his effects.  There was nothing that shocked me, much to my surprise.  Except perhaps that there was nothing that shocked me.  With tales of missionaries’ wives and nuns in the Congo and Southeast Asian comfort girls, I expected worse.  What he left behind was surprisingly erudite, classy and honorable.  And that’s coming from the guy who was given the normally dirty job of erasing his hard drive.  Weird.  One thing that struck me was the written correspondence that testified to the number of people he touched deeply.  Well done, Bill.  You sucked at marriage, but you sure kept cupid busy with those arrows, and you had many good and faithful friends.  The world will be a more boring place without you.

Hey, what is that in the blue box?  A rosary?  Huh.  Probably never been used after Sunday school, but who knows?  There are all sorts of weapons in this world.  So long, Bill.  May your purgatory be short and your legacy in St. Michael’s army be glorious.

Bill Burtnette now resides at Fort Logan National Cemetery in Denver.

Posted in 'Murica, Bloggers, War | 40 Comments

There Is Much to Be Done; Just Not Much of It Here

“There’s a shit-load of demons here.  Fuck this.” – Vladimir Solaratov, US Army Special Forces.


Yeah. Solaratov was talking about another time and place, but maybe that’s a good idea for this particular time and place.  Fuck this blogging shit.  For the road ahead, St. Michael comes in awfully handy with the demons.  Keep him in mind in days to come.  He’s only just getting warmed up.  Pray hard.  Pray fast.  Peace be with Y’all.  I’m pretty much out of here.

Explanation and Gratitude: My good friend, FrenchReader, a wise and politically astute woman from Paris who has been commenting on many American blogs since the beginning of the Obama Era, just sent me a kind email last night.  Thank you, FR!  She’s followed our conservative blogging communities long enough to know what’s going on, but it occurs to me that I should not leave some things unsaid, for the benefit of others who may misinterpret me dumping this blog.

I wish to express sincere gratitude to those who have read and commented on this blog over the years, and also those who have been part of the conversation elsewhere.  This blog was never meant as a serious endeavor, but only as a home base for my other troublemaking.  Others did it better, after all.  It began with lurking at HillBuzz and the HoneyTrail and as a regular presence at the Conservative Treehouse.  Eventually, I helped found ForGodFamilyAndCountry and contributed in small ways to iOTW & IOTWReport, DMF, PCP, Nox&Friends, Adrienne’s Corner and Zilla’s blog, if only by commenting and providing a little artwork.  Some of those have been successes and some utter failures, but those who have commented here on this blog have always been cherished.  Thank you, Friends.  Especially thanks to Mike GFC.  Requiescat in Pace, Friend.

As a start, Trailbee and Hal and Odie and LL and LSP and Jules and Stretch and Hardnox and Terry and Morgan/Euripides and Bluebird and Barn and Shalini and Zoph and Freedom and Solaratov and Marie-Christine and RP and Chrissy and Pete and Mindful and Frankly and Motley and Ting and Alison and Adrienne and Plain Jane and Jane Dough and MadJack and BluesJunky and Earl and PapaBear and Kim/Cass and Lynn/Ravenglass and Brig and LindaG and the PoliNation crowd and Zilla and Fredd and Guy and Lisa and Kathleen and MOTUS and AstroSerf and Irish and Jeffery and SpringerAZ and those from 4gfc have been great joys.

As FrenchReader has pointed out, in her wisdom, the Trump/Brexit fight has taken a heavy toll on our friendships.  She claims that she has lost two of her best gal friends over it.  That’s been a familiar story for us all, I think.

I am quitting because I am also weary of the losses we have sustained during the Trump and Brexit fights, not because some have fallen by the wayside, but because so many have continued deceitfully, as if nothing happened.  I will not continue to work or comment alongside those who have banned their friends for being right about Trump (or Brexit), or ambushed them and got them fired from writing jobs or purposely ruined friendships or doxed people with families and children out of evil spite.  There has been much deceit and no reckoning.  And no apologies of any kind.  This has not happened here on the Grunt Blog, but in other places.  Places I will not name.  Farewell, friends.  This was never meant to be a refuge or a last stand.  Stands must be made in real life.  Blessings and Godspeed to all of you in all of your stands in life.


Posted in Blogosphere | 55 Comments

NeverTrump Republicans Were Paid by Soros; It’s a Fact

And they worked hard for it.  Not that George got much for his money from those weasels.  The real question is, what ELSE did he do for them? Right, Ryan, Rubio, Jeb, McCain, Kasich, Graham and others?


Matthew Boyle [Breitbart] – Employees of a hedge fund founded by the king of the Institutional Left, billionaire and Democratic Party mega-donor George Soros, donated tens of thousands of dollars to top Republicans who fought against President Donald Trump in 2016, donation records compiled by the Center for Responsive Politics show.

Soros Fund Management, a former hedge fund that serves now as an investment management firm, was founded by progressive billionaire George Soros in 1969. It has risen to become one of the most profitable hedge funds in the industry. Employees of the firm are heavily involved in backing political candidates giving millions upon millions to groups that were supporting failed 2016 Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Rodham Clinton for the presidency.

But more importantly, perhaps, than the unsurprising giant lump sums of cash funneled into Democratic Party and Clinton coffers is the revelation thanks to the Center for Responsive Politics that employees of the Soros firm—now run by his son Robert Soros—pumped tens of thousands of dollars into the campaigns of top anti-Trump Republicans over the course of 2016.  Read more at Breitbart.

Posted in Uncategorized | 14 Comments

It’s Still Sunday Somewhere

Sing it Morgan.

It’s a complex song, Take Me To Church, and one of the few that can make both my wife and I weep reliably, especially when sung by the great Morgan James.  It was penned by Irish Protestant weirdo, Hozier, in his parents’ Dublin area attic about his hatred of the Catholic Church’s teachings on homosexuality during the night of a bad breakup with one of his boyfriends. He believes it describes the hypocrisy of a Church regarding a natural act that he cherishes along with the irony in his perception that someone could see a natural act as evil. In his lyrics, he used the writings of brilliant atheist writer Christopher Hitchins, and others, to great effect and beauty.

Is every natural act beautiful?  Hozier thinks it must be so.  And I accept that some may be good, even if condemned by the majority.  I’m not here to judge.  But, what he may not accept is that some of us recognize Jeffrey Dahmer’s acts, like Hozier’s, as perfectly natural.  Yet they may still be grotesque and disordered. The irony we see, other than that of Hozier’s parents’ heterosexual love that provided the attic and produced the life that enabled his expression, is that God can take the ravings of a lovesick millennial and forge a beautiful lyric so universal that it can move almost anyone … if you just switch the roles.  Like Ann Barnhardt once wrote, if you take everything that the wicked old crone Ayn Rand ever said and replace the word “Self” with “Jesus,” it becomes a work of genius and beauty.

We were all born sick, young Hozier. God literally must command us to be well. When we ask for it, that is when the tears come, and the angels weep with us.

Better Hozier Lyrics:

My God has got humor
Has the last word at every funeral.
Knows everybody’s disapproval.
I should have worshipped Him sooner.

When the heavens really do speak,
He finds the most pure mouthpiece.
But the world hates them just as much.
They only know how to love their crutch.

We were born sick, I heard them say.
But this world offers no absolutes.
He says, “All I did was love you first.”
“In return you gave the very worst.”
But the thought of Heaven makes me thirst.

I was born sick,
And I hate it.
Command me to be well.
Amen, amen, amen.

Take me to church.
I will worship what is good, not the father of night.
I’ll tell you my sins and you can set them aright.
Offer me that deathless death.
Good God, let me give you my life.

Repeat chorus.

If I’m a castaway in dark times,
Your love is the sunlight.
They only know to repeat lies.
You want “love, not sacrifice.”

They’ll drain the whole sea,
to get something shiny.
Your love is meaty like the main course.
Yet they stay on their high horse.
What’s that in their stable?
Nothing for God’s starving faithful.
But your food is tasty,
And you give plenty.
For this is hungry work.

Take me to church… (repeat chorus x2)

No food but the body and blood of the King,
When the ritual begins.
There is no sweeter innocence,
When He takes away our blame.
In the madness and the mystery,
Of that holy scene.
Only then am I human.
Only then am I clean.

Take me to church… (repeat chorus x2)
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

Posted in Music | 3 Comments

Gotta Respect Tom Brady Taking a Stand for Trump, But I’ll Still Be Snickering About This Image in my Head Today

Was this a complete conversion? If it’s this easy, why don’t they ALWAYS go for the 2 points? In my ignorant view, that conversion girl would not be pregnant.  Watch for yourself.  But if you look at the YouTube comments, the clear, overwhelming majority of comments say it was a terrible call that would not have held up under review.  Still, the refs made the call, and that’s that.  Outstanding game!

Posted in Football | 18 Comments

Veteran Rap: Only Kind of Rap I Can Tolerate

And the only kind of cooking show!

Posted in 'Murica, Gun Control, Libtards | 6 Comments

Wanna Go on TV with your Fake Immigration Story? CNN’s Advertising for It

As Lauren Southern points out, we shouldn’t disappoint ’em.



Cross-Posted at Nox & Friends.

Posted in Media Whores | 8 Comments

Paul Joseph Watson: “It’s Not a Muslim Ban You Virtue Signaling Morons.”

Posted in Donald Trump, Leftards, State Department, World | 4 Comments

No Wonder Milo Can’t Appear with Jessica Valenti for Fear He Might Slug Her


Posted in Feminism | 7 Comments

Grunt’s Friday Night Movie Micro-Review: The Man from UNCLE(2015)

Officially a flop, the 2015 Man from UNCLE film by Guy Ritchie and Lionel Wigram remains a very stylish and satisfying cold war adventure.  I’m not the only one to think so; it was very popular among audiences.  Though, a grim proportion of reviewers found it ‘boring’ and the story unappealing.  What do you expect in a time of nonstop action and genocide by Death Star?  People get bored easily.


But, I was not bored with the subject of this movie.  I was around in 1963, roughly the time this takes place, and it successfully captures many of the things that were exciting about that time.  Things like Team Lotus and Grand Prix racing and French beauty Francoise Hardy (below, with a Melania Trump-like wry smile) and the most beautiful Ferraris ever made and cold war intrigue and JFK and the Cuban Missile Crisis.


Most of those things aren’t specifically in the movie; it just evokes them.  Just saying.  And, ok, I just threw that photo of Francoise Hardy up there because I felt like it and also because blogger C.W. Swanson put up a similar photo recently and reminded me of her.  But there are kick-ass F1 race cars in the film.


Some critics were actually seduced by the film.  James Berardinelli of ReelViews called it “one of those rare instances when a sequel wouldn’t just be warranted – it would be welcomed.”  I concur.  The words ‘stylish’ and ‘skillful’ come up a lot.

Because this is a micro-review, I won’t describe the plot, but there is some very good location shooting in and around Rome, Italy, and around the UK.  The cinematography is quite good, and the stylishness of certain scenes is worth the price of the BlueRay disk.  In particular, a boat race around the Vinciguerra estate near Rome involves a mesmerizing scene set to music where Napolean Solo finds himself sitting in a truck, eating another man’s lunch and drinking his Ruffino Chianti while trying to decide whether to save the Red Peril (Armie Hammer) from drowning.  There is also an enormously creative Nazi torture scene that succeeds in being both sickening and hilarious.  Not at the same time; in sequence.

The only drawback for me was the odd casting decision to concentrate all the talent and beauty on the male side of the cast list.  Three of the most god-like and fittest actors on the planet (Henry Cavil – literally Superman, Armie Hammer and Luca Calvani) were cast alongside Swedish actress Alicia Vickander as UNCLE teammate and Elizabeth Debicki as villainess.Man1j.jpg

The ladies do a wonderful job – too good, actually.  Though a beautiful young actress in her 20s, Debicki performs so well as an aging and glamorous mafiosa, she comes across as too repulsive to lust after.  And, though it’s clear they were trying to go for a Jean Shrimpton style of 60s cute girl chic with Vikander, she broods through the whole thing and ends up more like a little sister than a “Bond Girl.”  The result is that there is no real leading lady character in a movie that desperately needs the glamour of a strong leading lady to counterbalance the pretty boys in it.  Otherwise, though, this film will help a few glasses of Johnny Walker Black disappear very smoothly and stylishly.

Posted in Movies | 8 Comments