Point and click ammo

DirtCrashr went to the range to learn more about pistol handling when your world goes sour. Well worth a read, even the part about his flowered tactical Hawaiian combat shirt. :)

This snippet got to me:

Ammo OALs have been all over the map, loads found backwards and loads found empty and loads found mixed: half a box of .45 and half 9mm. Some good stuff remains: Black Hills, Hornady, Fiocchi...


I always hate reading stuff like that because when I use a factory round it's likely to be from the "value" (read: cheap) shelf. I was raised to simply trust  ammunition makers; to believe that the odds were prohibitively against a  bum primer or missing powder. In truth, I can recall virtually no ammunition failures, which may prove only that I don't shoot enough.

I don't doubt that more and more crap is getting through some makers' quality control systems. After all, in a world where Austrians get rich by melting down two-litre Coke bottles and casting them into $600 pistols, any outrage is possible, even probable.

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EDIT: I meant to include a suggestion that you scroll down a couple-three posts at the Crashr's. Seems our Man in California is rediscovering the beauty of steel frames and walnut handles. Why, next thing you know he'll be reporting that linseed oil is almost as good as Hoppes when  you and your pals get together for aromatherapy. :)









Ammo OALs have been all over the map, loads found backwards and loads found empty and loads found mixed: half a box of .45 and half 9mm. Some good stuff remains: Black Hills, Hornady, Fiocchi...

Why we're broke

A hot bulletin from local radio announces a "stakeholder meeting" for one of our boondoggles good works in-progress -- an official "Glacial Trail Scenic Byway."

Some 36 miles of interesting little roads wander through counties just south of me. The scenery is pretty, but of course no citizen has ever noticed that because they're unofficial, both scenery-wise and byway-wise.

The Rules clearly specify that commoners require government guidance to recognize pretty things, and at all costs they must not be left to their own devices in determining that a lonely, twisty, potholed, two-lane tarmac is the optimum route for driving to where they wish to be.

In case you can't make the meeting, permit me to summarize: At least three concerned people will "present." The official sign will be unveiled. A "light" meal will be served. (No, I don't know what's on the carte, but an entree of pureed dandelion blossoms is one of the likely candidates.)

Anyway, the announcement got me wondering. Who pays?

A Binger revealed that you do. Shocking, eh?  This particular extortion mechanism is a federal  Department of Transportation sub-bureau assigned to turn country roads into astounding national treasures. It seems to pay 80 per cent.  I also wondered who gets to decide. And what the criteria are.  Why, the federal experts on pretty things do, of course, and the criteria seem to be a little loose.

Our definition of "scenic" reaches beyond breathtaking vistas. All of America's Byways® are "scenic", representing the depth and breadth of scenery in America--natural and man-made panoramas; electrifying neon landscapes; ancient and modern history coming alive; native arts and culture; and scenes of friends, families and strangers sharing their stories.

I see. Wonderful. By that measure my driveway qualifies. It's in rough shape and doesn't go much of anywhere. Anciently,  the native Americans certainly trod it. Wildlife still does,even if you don;t count New Dog Libby.  The man-made panorama is stunning, vehicles parked organically, a lawn tractor resting naturally where it ran out of gas under a majestic cottonwood, the tenacious red cedars struggling for the sun from the pile of glacially deposited granite boulderettes.

It is indeed a candidate, and I hereby apply for funding to bring it to world attention as the Camp J 200-Foot Scenic Byway. I can probably get it all arranged for $100,000 -- signs. maps, advertising, PR counsel-- even including my own modest salary. Please forward your share, 80 big ones, and I'll get on it immediately.

'course, if you insist on a breathtaking panorama of electrifying neon signs, that will be a little extra.

Waiting on Ron Paul in WalMart Aisle 7

The good doctor says on Facebook he'll be guest host on CNBC's "Squawk Box" this morning starting about 6:30 EDT, e.g. now.

While I'm waiting, I'm watching  CNBC cover the scandal of WalMart bribing Mexican thugs, i.e. almost everyone high in that godforsaken government,  for the right to do business down there. 

A certain astonishment is evident in the teevee men and women doing the reporting, which suggests to me that they're more than a little parochial.  

The decision-making process for engaging in commerce -- large or small --  in Mexico is quite simple.

--Shall we do business South of the Border (yes or no)?

--If "yes" find out who there needs bribing, gather up the cash, and send it.

Working at the outermost boundaries of human thought...

I first heard that phrase decades ago from the lips of Kingman Brewster, president of  Yale. I was a a working-stiff reporter, and Connecticut Bureau Chief John Armstrong sent me over to interview him about a Yale tuition increase.

The charming Dr. Brewster explained that the new and complicated tuition structure would actually save money for the students even as it fattened Yale coffers.*  Besides, even if it didn't, it was a small price for student access to professors "working at the outermost boundaries of human thought."

I filed a report including but short-shrifting that bit of puffery and concentrated on trying to explain what the incredibly dense set of new tuition rules would actually mean to Yalies. But I never forgot about all that ivory tower outermosting, and I have since heard it repeated verbatim by academic after academic -- usually when they were in their fund-raising mode.

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Now it is quite a long way in both time and space from Brewster-at-Yale to little Buena Vista college down in Storm Lake where a Ph.D'ed lady decided to outermost think about overdosing her students with coffee.


The study began Monday afternoon and after a couple of hours, the students began showing the effects of excessive caffeine ingestion and were taken to Buena Vista Regional Medical Center in Storm Lake. Medical authorities estimate the students ingested about 6,000 milligrams of caffeine.


A dose becomes a threat of  (sic) body functions at about 6,200 milligrams. The students remain hospitalized for observation. University Dean of Students Doctor Meg McKeon, in a University-wide e-mail, said the administration is very concerned and is conducting an investigation.


I don't usually think in milligrams, so I looked it up on the internet. The caffeine content of a cup of coffee varies from roughly 95mg to 200mg. The high-end concentration seems to be about what speed freaks use when they can't get hold of their meth contact.

So, Ms. Professor fed the kids the equivalent of some 30 cups of high-test Arbuckles in about two hours? Enough to send them to the emergency room.

Pardon me for suggesting that the outermost limits of common sense were violated. And for suggesting that, in addition to the suspension, this outermost thinker ought to be kicked soundly and repeatedly in her outermost ass.

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*Dr. Brewster, needless to say, was a Keynesian.