Hi there. I've been having a swell time traveling the country, explaining the evils of the Fraters Libertas gang. And even though I've been real busy, I've had a chance from time to time to see the comments from Kim, who is Chad's Seoul City Sue, the siren of the Gopher State.  She may try to entice me, but I'm never going back.  In fact, Chad, I know you are still trying to find me, so let's see if this helps.  Am I here?

Yes, that's right, sports fans. Chicago.  Could I be somewhere in the Windy City, getting my dose of cold for the Winter?

Or am I back in the South, at the world famous Coke Museum in downtown Atlanta, Georgia? Who needs beer, Chad, when you can have a Coke this big?

The Underground is where Atlanta really got its start as a city, back in the 1830's, when it was a railroad town.  Now that I've successfully escaped the clutches of Chad and his fellow reprobates from the Fraters Libertas, and have seen a lot of this fine country so far, and have met so many wonderful, helpful people, this spot gave me an idea. The underground railroad was famous for freeing slaves by sneaking them out of the South into the North.  Now that I've found my way out, I feel I owe it to my fellow bobbleheads, the ones that are still held captive on mantles and bookshelves everywhere, to create a way for their escape.  I dream one day for bobbleheads of all size and shape and color to not be bought and sold as possessions, but to be able to roam the country free.

Chad, naturally, is against this idea.  He wants me back in his house, under his control,
used as a gimmick to annoy poor Hugh Hewitt and his able sidekick, Duane.

This is out in front of Atlanta's city hall. The inscription at the bottom says 'Honor's Path He Trod.'  This certainly couldn't apply to Chad the Elder.  I've seen him in hotel rooms.  His plaque would read No Honor Bars Left Untried.
 
I think I may stay in Atlanta for a couple more days.  It's a beautiful city, and I'm not sure Chad knows where Georgia is on a map, anyway.  He's allergic to anything below Iowa.  I'll post more pictures if I can.

Me again.  I've been reading some of the comments from all of you about my escape from Chad the Ehud...I mean, Chad the Elder from Fraters Libertas.  Sorry about that slip.  It's just that Chad reminds me so much of Israeli Prime Minister Olmert because of his handling of my so-called abduction.  Anyway, I'm writing to y'all from my latest destination, Nashville, Tennessee.

That's right.  After leaving the great Northwest, I decided to get back in touch with my country roots, and visit the home of country music, Nashville.  I met lots of friendly people there, and as has become the custom, whenever I met somebody for the first time, I asked if they'd ever heard of Chad the Elder or Fraters Libertas.  I have visited four states now, and I haven't met a single person that has ever heard of them.  But the result is still the same.  Once I spend two minutes explaining what Chad is all about, they decide they don't like him. 

Ah, the Nashville skyline.  Notice you don't see any huge trashbags that they play mediocre baseball and worse football in, right?

This is LP field, where the Tennessee Titans play.  The Titans appeared in Super Bowl XXXIV, in 2000.  The Vikings checked out of professional football after the 1977 season.

Downtown Nashville.  Lots of good, common sense people, and not a NARN person in sight.

We're just outside of Ryman Auditorium, considered to be holy ground in the world of country music. 

This is where the Grand Ole Opry was, before it moved to their current site.  This is still today considered to be one of the top 10 venues to play in the country.  If you get to play a gig at the Ryman, you've made it. 

Speaking of the Grand Ole Opry, I was excited to be able to just see the building.  But then...

Okay, now I'm in Heaven.  I'm actually standing on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry House.  Virtually every country music legend that has ever performed has stood where I'm standing.  And Chad wants me to come back to Minnesota for hockey season?  He must have had a six-pack of Cocaine sport drink when he wrote that.  No sane person, or bobblehead, would want to go to Minnesota intentionally in the Winter.  I'm having too much fun seeing America. 

The country music hall of fame.  Actually, I don't think Chad's seen any hall of fame.  I'm certain no hall of fame has seen anything from Chad.

This was my tour guide for the Schermerhorn Symphony Center.  This building, which looks old, is actually brand new.  A lot of the buildings in Nashville has this historic look to them.  You won't see many buildings in Minnesota looking like this.  The icicles that would fall from the top would split you in two.

Yeah, this was an okay stop on my Nashville tour, but remember, I was caged up in Chad's house for years before I escaped.  There was nothing in here I hadn't seen before.

A gift from my new friends in Nashville.  It's a real helmet, too.  It's obviously still a little too big for me, but the plastic, the face guard, and the padding inside are all authentic, just scaled down for size.  I felt honored to finally wear something from a respectible college after all these years.

 Nothing tops a day like this like dinner at White Castle.  But my new friends insisted that I spend one more day in Nashville, because they had one more surprise for me. 

Front row tickets to the Rascal Flatts concert Friday night.  I can't wait.  Chad, you can keep asking me to come home, but if I were you, I'd be watching what's going on in Israel right now.  Like Ehud Olmert, I'm hearing that you might be facing a vote of no confidence from the rest of the Northern Alliance for your lack of leadership.  Where will I go next?  You'll have to just check back and see.  There's still hundreds of cities I'd like to visit, and millions of people who have never heard of Chad the Elder, but need to know how bad he is. 

Hello, again.  I know it's been a while since I checked in, but you'd be amazed how long it takes a little guy like me to travel across the country.  Today, I come to you after visiting two of my favorite states, Oregon and Washington.  In fact, I have 49 favorite states.  There's only one state I don't care too much about, and that is Minnesota, home of the cursed group of drunkards, Fraters Libertas, that used to own me until I got my chance to run free. 

Now that's what I call a road sign.  In Oregon, outside of Portland and on the way to the Columbia River that divides Oregon and Washington, I stopped with my new friends on the Blue Star Memorial Highway. As a newly freed American, I am very thankful for the service of our armed forces.  I only wish that Chad the Elder would get an up close and personal demonstration of what the Navy SEALs can do.  

My whole water experience in captivity with the Fraters gang was lakes.  Minnesota has a lot of them, but the water never moved like this.  

I had to get closer.

And closer.

Perfect.

This is the life.  A week ago, I was in the Southeast.  Today, I'm in the Northwest, and Chad the Elder is in Minnesota, sitting on his couch, still trying to digest unhealthy state fair food.  

These were pioneers of freedom and liberty, unlike those Fraters Libertas posers.  

I've seen what the evils of drinking does to people like Chad the Elder.  This is more my style.  

This was a cool little place on the Oregon side of the Columbia gorge. 

Now this display was cool.  While made that poor radio producer Duane milk a cow, these guys were riding bulls and broncos.  There is so much more to see outside of Minnesota.

Let freedom ring.

I didn't really taste any wine.  I just wanted to make Chad jealous.  

In case you can't read the sign,

Very cool.  

Home base for the night was at the Hilton in Yakima, Washington, 3,242 miles from Miami, my last stop.  But more importantly, 1,582 miles from Chad the Elder.  Chad may claim he's not a leader in the mold of Ehud Olmert, but after his initial post attacking Duane and that nice radio host, Hugh Hewitt, he's done nothing.  He's paralyzed with inaction. 

Believe me.  As a committed traveler, nobody treats you better than Hilton hotels.  As for me, my work here is finished.  Nobody in Oregon or Washington had heard of Chad the Elder or his cohorts at Fraters Libertas, but now that I've explained how bad they all are, they will never be welcome here, either.  Off to parts unknown.  Chad, you'll never find me.



 

Hello, me again.  Another fun-filled night in South Florida, and after reading again on the Fraters Libertas site that Chad the Elder foolishly accused Mr. Hewitt and Duane of kidnapping me and hinting that torture and coercion might be involved, I thought I'd share some of my adventures tonight and let you be the judge of whether Chad's telling the truth or not.

I saw a group of people that all were wearing Katherine Harris buttons, and I asked my friends to pull over so I could ask them why Ms. Harris won't debate her primary challenger, Will McBride.  But as soon as I mentioned McBride's name, they all ran away.  I wonder where they learned that from?

A little later, while driving around and sightseeing, my friends noticed that I seemed a little quieter than normal.  They asked if everything was all right, and I said I was a little sad that I couldn't make it here in time to see a hurricane.  Ernesto had fizzled, and had already blown through the area by the time I arrived, but my friends just smiled at me and said they had an idea.

After being exposed to nothing but Golden Gopher sports my whole life, it was very exciting to be at the home of the perennial top ten favorites, the Miami Hurricanes.

"Would you like to go inside and have a drink?" one of my friends asked me.

What do you think my answer was, Chad? By the way, She doesn't look a thing like Hugh or Duane, does she?

You betcha.

I had one of these...

...and probably the best coffee ever made.

As I lay down for my last night in South Florida, I thought mainly about two things.  First, this was the best day in my whole life, and second, if Chad had treated me half this well, I would have never left. 

So many decisions to make.  In which direction do I head off tomorrow?  The evils of Chad and the Fraters must be made known far and wide, but I've got a few ideas of where to head off next.  But I'd better sleep on it. 

Goodnight from South Florida.  I'll check in when I get a chance. 

 
I've been having so much fun since my escape from that foolish ex-owner of mine, Chad the Elder of Fraters Libertas, that I apologize for not writing sooner.  I wanted to see what an almost hurricane looks like, so I made my way down to Coconut Grove, Florida, to see the sights.  And boy, is there lots to see, unlike that repressive world that Chad forced me to live in back in Minnesota.  I read that today, six days after my escape, he finally realized I was missing.  Some owner he is...or was.

I've got to tell you, I was worried about Chad figuring out where I was, and how I escaped.  I thought I'd never make it out of the state, because Chad would somehow outsmart me, and drag me back into captivity.  I felt a little like a bobblehead version of Elian Gonzalez, who is still remembered quite fondly around here.
 

Here I am strolling CocoWalk, one of the legendary landmarks here in Coconut Grove.  It's amazing how many people haven't heard of Chad, but learn to despise him once they hear my story.  Many of them have volunteered to take me into their homes, and protect me from Chad, as though trying to avenge the loss of little Elian back to Cuba many years ago.  

In Minnesota, all I ever heard was fish stories about eelpout, walleye and pike.  In Florida, they have real fish called Marlins, and they even have a baseball team that's won the World Series a couple of times lately.  

I might post some more pictures later, but I don't want that buffoon Chad to be able to triangulate on me too soon, so I might have to be moving along.  Can you believe Chad?  He's actually accusing that nice radio host, Mr. Hewitt and his loyal producer Duane, of kidnapping me.  You know, like Democrats on the war, some people will just never get it.  Bye for now.  I think there's a Jimmy Buffett concert tonight.   

Two days since my great Minnesota getaway from the evil clutches of Chad the Elder, the ringleader of the Fraters Libertas.  Chad still has no clue about my flight to freedom, because he's been too busy trying to 'milk' up his Saturday fair episode of making Generalissimo Duane, the very patient and tolerant producer of the Hugh Hewitt Show, milk a cow.  Poor Duane knew he was being set up, and yet he was still brave enough to face up to the challenge, and keep his dignity. 

Chad, being the cruel human being he is, couldn't let the Honey (the name of the cow) Affair go.  He didn't take the high road.  He made sure he published pictures, complete with all sorts of blue humor references and innuendos that should be beneath most conservatives.  But not Chad.  I used to be owned by him.  I know how he works.  That's why I left him.  And the funny thing is, I've had a two day head start, and Chad doesn't have a clue.  He'll never find me. 

Especially after reading the caliber of reporting about Duane today on the Fraters site that would compare to Los Angeles Times standards, I have decided to make it my mission to travel the country far and wide, and educate as many people as I can about the real Chad the Elder. 

For instance, people don't know that Chad the Elder meets every Thursday for lunch with lefty Strib columnist, Nick Coleman.  Although that might seem a bit unusual, I know the truth.  Chad is secretly a lefty posing as a conservative.  It's all very Machiavellian in nature.  Chad actually is all for light rail, is all for a bump in taxes to help pay for the new stadium, all the usual lefty tactics.  He can be seen at DFL events, but usually in the back and wearing sunglasses to try to hide his identity.  He and Coleman get together every week to plot out how Chad can write a little here and there to sound conservative, and then do something like the fair post on poor Duane and the cow, thereby harming the credibility of the whole Northern Alliance.  It's really pretty clever, if it weren't so devious in nature, and damaging innocent bystanders like Hugh and Duane. 

So the next time you read anything on the Fraters Libertas site, keep in mind one thing.  Whenever you read the by-line at the bottom and it says Chad the Elder, you're really reading what Nick Coleman thinks conservatives want to hear. 

Don't worry about Chad finding me.  I hear the East Coast is nice this time of year.  I'll post pictures when I can. 

 Hi.  Welcome to my site.  My name is Ralphie, and for too long, I've been used by a bunch of very bad men here in Minnesota.  They've pulled my head off of my body, and stuck me onto the body of a de-sticked University of Minnesota hockey player.  I put up with their teasing, and I put up with them using me all over the world as a tool in which to pick on noted radio talk show host, blogger and author, Hugh Hewitt.  If you want to see all the places I've been, you can go to the evil Fraters Libertas gallery here. 

But today is a new day for Ralphie.  I was brought by Chad the Elder, my former owner, to the Minnesota State Fair earlier today, where he broadcast his little radio show, and I was outraged at what I heard.  Hugh Hewitt's hard-working producer, Generalissimo Duane, was forced by Chad to humiliate himself on the radio by milking a cow that had already been milked a half hour before.  It was a complete set-up job, and as I heard it in the back of the booth, I got madder and madder.  I decided today was going to be Ralphie Day.  No more would I sit idly by while Chad mocks good people.  I looked around, and noticed that there was no one around, no one to keep an eye on me.  This was my chance.  It was now or never.  This was going to be the 'no strings on me' moment.  I hopped down from my perch, and made my getaway.  By the way, when you're on the ground, and you're about six inches tall, 125,000 Minnesotans are huge. 

When you've been living the kind of life I have been, hanging around people who drink too much and sit around plotting and scheming all day about lashing out at innocent people, I felt dirty.  The thing with Duane and the cow was too much to bear, so I felt I needed to get myself right with God.  So I went to the Crossroads Chapel booth at the fair for prayer.

Here I am, waiting for someone to relieve me of the guilt and shame of my association with the Fraters people.

Once I got that weight off my shoulders, I decided it was time to go find the cow people and apologize there, too.

Here I am.

I knew Chad was going to be getting off the air in a little while, so the next step to freedom was to get off the fairgrounds.  Where did I go?  I'll give you a little hint, Chad.

Check back from time to time.  In between seeing the world in a whole new way, I'll drop in here from time to time and correct the lies of the Fraters Libertas fellows.  Believe me, I've been with them from the very beginning, and I know how they operate.  Chad, I'm out here, and I know the truth.