Re-imposing myself on the world:

1. It hurts my head to think of the big story, the U.S. Congress proposing to require China to revalue the yuan to a level we like, so:

2. I take refuge in the weather which requires a small predawn fire but which also makes a stroll around the grounds comfortable in a flannel shirt and Ron Paul gimme cap.  We're short of rain. Otherwise October, 2011, has been as idyllic as an old Disney film.

3.  The head cold has been made tolerable by a lifestyle adjustment. Relating to other humans exaggerates the symptoms. Relating to one's lethal instruments of doom soothes them. That explains some very clean guns in my terrorist vault and also the addition of 197 new rounds of  reloaded .45 ACP (200-grain SWC, 6.x grains of Unique to drive them about 875 fps, peppy but far from max). The remaining chore is to fill the 40 rounds of .45 Colt brass  I discovered. With no big bullets on hand, I'll stuff them with the 200 SWCs and enough something to make them go super-whoosh.

4. A peripheral reloading matter: I'm about out of bullet lube. That makes me wonder how I would go about acquiring the squeezings from Al Sharpton's hair.

5. (Back to 1) -- Could someone please tell the senators that there's a more logical target if they want to get all snitty about currency manipulation? Ben is handier, and, besides, he doesn't yet have his own aircraft carrier.

Still metabolizing

Just to confirm that your TMR author is still alive and in recovery from a trip, a medium-nasty cold, some highly welcome guests, and an uncontrollable urge to spend time in the reloading shack, I pass on this wisdom from local radio. It's  helping the government save us all from fiery doom. Fire Prevention Week, doncha know.

"This year's campaign focuses on preventing the leading cause of home fire--cooking, heating, electrical equipment, candles and smoking materials."


I'm having a helluva time thinking of anything that doesn't cover this side of rubbing two Girl Scouts together. Shows you what happens when government functionaries and reporters decide to "focus."

Smith & Wesson tries again.

The Grand Old Company puts a happier face on it, but the truth is that S&W can't build fences anyone wants to buy. Seems the gates don't quite close, the posts aren't straight, and the finish wears off the first Thursday after installation.

Sorry. That may not be quite accurate, but a guy who +finally+ made near-new SW 59 work right can be forgiven for the speculation.

Anyway, SW can't make a dime on its "Perimeter Security" business, so it's trying to sell it. The PR department hopes you don't remember its hyperflack of  a couple years ago, promising the new fence business would make you rich if you bought some SWHC.

Last month the company fired the boss by kicking him upstairs to become "vice-chairman of the board of directors. "(Please.  It's impolite to giggle.)

The new boss has been running the firearms end of the business and says SW needs to concentrate on its -- cliche alert --"core competency." Uh huh.

I'll believe they're competent when they bring back the Model 25.

Spengler Didn't Know Jack Schidtt About the Decline of the West

I see by my electrical teevee that some pitcher for some team dramatically struck out a guy named Rodriguez who batted for some other team. According to the report, this sends the pitcher's team to the "American League Championship Series." Note the date of the event: October 6.

This explains 21st Century American lassitude and its secret application for a loan from the IMF Third-World Bailout Fund.

When the Universe was a finer place, the World Serious* was history by early October. We didn't call it the "September Classic" for nothing in the days when America could make radios and steel pistols; the era when we chose our wars more carefully and could, in general, win most of them with reasonable dispatch.

A nation abandons cherished tradition at its peril, and I suggest President Obama  order a return to the diamond game as God intended it. Sixteen teams,** two leagues, no goddam "divisions,"  and 154 games plus the Series which, in case I haven't mentioned it yet, dammit, should be played in September.

(At the same time he might also outlaw television, although that might raise Constitutional questions.)

That's change you can believe it.

---

*Thank you, Mr. Lardner, and while I'm here may I mention that if you and your buddy Mencken were still around, things would be a whole lot better.

**I mean, what the Hell ever gave anyone the idea that Tampa, for instance, was "major league?"