I’ve been a fan of Steve McNair ever since he was “Air” McNair with the Alcorn University Braves. Few quarterbacks could sling the football as well as he could, and few played with as much toughness and grit. McNair put up some eye-popping passing stats in college, but in the NFL he proved that he was willing to do whatever it took to win, personal statistics be damned. He was the antithesis of a diva.

And now, he’s been found murdered alongside a young female friend. I hope the investigation doesn’t cast an unflattering light on one of my favorite football players, but I fear it may.

Let’s hope not. I’d like to find at least one professional athlete that doesn’t have feet of clay.

…I played on the water on a new (to me) jet ski, and KatyBeth and I both got sunburned, despite repeated applications of SPF 30 sunscreen.

I went to the range with Husband In Law, and we shot 1911s until we had to kick the brass aside to maintain our footing. The original plan was to fine tune my .270, and the .17 HMR, and finally get my Ar15 sighted in to my satisfaction. We were confined to the pistol range, however, because a youth group had reserved the rifle range.

And while their instructor gave the safety lecture to a group of attentive and well-mannered pre-adolescent children, he also reminded them of the significance of this day, and of the bravery and sacrifice of those who bought our freedoms with their own blood. The kids seemed to be getting the message.

Some of us may not like the direction our country is headed, but we ain’t dead, and we ain’t lost.

Not by a long shot.

Happy Independence Day, everyone.

… means suppressing every instinct that manhood has instilled in you, and doing something else instead.

Go see how my buddy JB On The Rocks handled his moment.

Ride Fast favors us with a graphic representation of how paramedics view motorcyclists.

*Snerk.*