Apr 25, 2011

The silver bullet

I need a few silver bullets for my 1911s,  a noble material for a noble caliber. So off to the counting house.

(Punch calculator. Mumble.)

I can't afford it.

This morning's market for an ounce of Ag is a bit more than $49.  An ounce yields  2.18 projectiles @200 grains. That geeks to $22.47 per round.

It is cheaper to feed the werewolves.

Which, come to think of it, would make as good a personal slogan as any for Bernanke and Geithner.
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Apr 22, 2011

Captain America for President? Iowa Caucuses 2012

Gary Johnson has made it official. He'll spend a little less time bicycling and ciimbing Mt. Everest and a little more running for president. He's hobnobbed among us rustics and promises to return.

Johnson is a contractor turned New Mexico governor where he performed some libertarian acts, notably wearing out a few pens vetoing  spending bills.  He thinks the war on drugs is a crazy spoof of logic, that the reach of the tax man is too broad and too deep, and that a nation can get in trouble tailoring its laws to the demands of the teevee preachers.

He's treading Ron Paul turf, though Paul is hugging our evangelical right on the abortion issue this time around.

Johnson's entry brings number of aspirants  to at least 18  20, and your handy list of caucus candidates has been updated.
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Apr 21, 2011

A departed friend

Chuck Brugman was too young to enlist. So he told a patriotic lie and became a decorated Marine veteran of the Pacific War, a dive-bomber gunner.

In 1946 he mastered the brass hard hat and earned an international reputation as the man to call when things went bad under the seas. He early took to the crazy  Gagnon/Cousteau inventions, moved to  American Samoa, and was THE diver and divemaster of   those Polynesian islands from 1970s through the1990s.  Chuck died in Tutuila last week at 86, depriving us of a gentle friend, a  bona fide hero who had every justification for macho boasting but who never did.

He was my personal connection to sanity for one long  island-bound, office-chained year. Whether aboard his stout  little catamaran Manu Sina, or too deep off Step Rock, or at the Pago Pago Yacht Club after the dives, he was a man with much to teach. Which he did, quietly and gently; if any Chuck tale had a butt, he made very sure it was Chuck.

May there be there be untouched reefs in your new home.

Inkpadutah's Revenge* and Indian Motorcycles

I haven't owned a bike for years, but the taste for old machines remains in my mouth.  When I was a lad I was occasionally privileged to borrow a couple of the veteran  Indians which were still around, held together with shade-tree contrivances  which permitted them to keep running after a fashion.

So there a nostalgic pleasure in learning that someone else is interested in the "Indian" marque -- namely Polaris Industries (ATVs, Victory motorcycles made just a few miles from Camp J).  They'll certainly be as over-gadgeted, over-lawyered, and over-priced as the other crap we're we're offered by vehicle makers, but maybe they'll at least preserve the neat old logo.

It's probably futile to hope they'll re-create anything as elegant as this.

It hurts my head to calculate the number of owners of the Indian bike name over the decades, certainly a number greater than Liz Taylor's husband tally.

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*This is unreasonably obscure for anyone not a serious scholar of  the Plains  Indian Wars. Nevertheless, I have suggested to Polaris that it should be the name of its first model.