That's why you got the ride on the grain scoop, and I'm sorry to have offended your snappish sense of dignity. I really think you'll find greater happiness in a more obscure region of the canal network.
May 26, 2012
G'mornin' Mama
Mid-morning on a holiday weekend isn't the best time to cross the road in these parts, Woman. Trying to nest your eggs in the gravel adjacent to the tarmac is worse, a sure ticket to the unpleasant end of the Darwin-results spectrum.
That's why you got the ride on the grain scoop, and I'm sorry to have offended your snappish sense of dignity. I really think you'll find greater happiness in a more obscure region of the canal network.
That's why you got the ride on the grain scoop, and I'm sorry to have offended your snappish sense of dignity. I really think you'll find greater happiness in a more obscure region of the canal network.
May 25, 2012
A slice of wildlife
In one of my AP gigs I was given a half-day a week of "enterprise" time to produce a Midwest outdoor column. Of the hundred or so that hit the wire, I remember only a few in detail. One of them is a longish piece on how to find and kill a wild turkey. It was well-received, though I suspect it discouraged many would-be hunters with its long exposition of the expensive gear and Leatherstocking wilderness skills necessary to take a gobbler.
I'm glad I wrote that in pre-internet days. I would be embarrassed if it were commonly available today.
That point occurred to me a few minutes ago when my peripheral vision caught a movement just outside the big south window. A grand-daddy strolled by, glanced at me, strutted around the house to the mulch pile, and, careless of all concern, rooted around in the decaying leaves for whatever turkey goodies might be squiggling there. It's getting so common that I didn't even reach for the camera. More tellingly, New Dog Libby didn't bother to bark.
A similar column today would be short; "Get a sling shot. Sit quietly on your deck. Pretty soon one will walk by. Shoot it."
I'm glad I wrote that in pre-internet days. I would be embarrassed if it were commonly available today.
That point occurred to me a few minutes ago when my peripheral vision caught a movement just outside the big south window. A grand-daddy strolled by, glanced at me, strutted around the house to the mulch pile, and, careless of all concern, rooted around in the decaying leaves for whatever turkey goodies might be squiggling there. It's getting so common that I didn't even reach for the camera. More tellingly, New Dog Libby didn't bother to bark.
A similar column today would be short; "Get a sling shot. Sit quietly on your deck. Pretty soon one will walk by. Shoot it."
May 24, 2012
All kinds of porn
Bad trigger procedure here, Mitzi. Rule 3.
But I forgive you because
This is one of the better of the mid-century studio-glamour shots, so I used it instead of one of Ms. Gaynor as Ensign Nellie Forbush, the role that got a wee lad's attention about the time he started thinking less about Trigger and more about Dale Evans.
And what the heck. As long as I'm pandering to the vile instincts of the gentlemen in the room, here's a sop for the ladies. It is, in part, a fulfillment of an old promise to my buddy Doris.
But I forgive you because
This is one of the better of the mid-century studio-glamour shots, so I used it instead of one of Ms. Gaynor as Ensign Nellie Forbush, the role that got a wee lad's attention about the time he started thinking less about Trigger and more about Dale Evans.
And what the heck. As long as I'm pandering to the vile instincts of the gentlemen in the room, here's a sop for the ladies. It is, in part, a fulfillment of an old promise to my buddy Doris.
May 23, 2012
Switzerland Listening to Ron Paul
Everyone knows an alternative currency based on a commodity won't work. Anyone who thinks it will is crazy and, worse, doesn't watch Rachel Maddow; in other words a deranged crank like Dr. Paul.
Or a citizen of Switzerland getting all worried about its own fiat currency and persuading his parliament to actually debate a circulating gold coin.
As I say, cranks. As is well known, the Swiss know nothing about money.
Or a citizen of Switzerland getting all worried about its own fiat currency and persuading his parliament to actually debate a circulating gold coin.
As I say, cranks. As is well known, the Swiss know nothing about money.
May 22, 2012
A little dose of evening irony
Y'all have already seen the viral video about Union Boss Debbie swatting a Governor Nikki pinata down in South Carolina, so there's no need to go into it here.
But perhaps it is in order to recall wistfully the the slimy rhetoric that followed the shooting of Arizona Congresswoman Gabby.
You remember, don't you? She was shot because all of us small-government conservatives and libertarian types talked mean -- violent metaphors and like that. The gentle lambs of the American left would never stoop so low.
.
But perhaps it is in order to recall wistfully the the slimy rhetoric that followed the shooting of Arizona Congresswoman Gabby.
You remember, don't you? She was shot because all of us small-government conservatives and libertarian types talked mean -- violent metaphors and like that. The gentle lambs of the American left would never stoop so low.
.
The Zuckerberg Divorce
Poor Mark. Poor Priscilla. If things are still going well, they haven't taken in the "Do Not Disturb" knob hanger. Their sole contact with the outside world is room service. They wouldn't even know that The New York Times is choreographing their divorce in a Who Gets What piece.
It is unseemly, of course, but it' not hard to understand. Who can figure out why the facebook IPO flopped in its first two days and is looking worse this morning? I mean, who even wants to get his brain all discombobulated with numbers about how much the company might earn and when in comparison with other investment possibilities -- among a lot else, most of it having to do with numbers? Math is boring, and hard!
Skylarking around about possibilities for their divorce settlement makes fewer neuron demands, and is quite a little sexier to boot. It isn't many more steps to speculation about Mark's first trophy wife, to be acquired when cute Priscella develops her first wrinkle.
Oh well, that's how we sell newspapers, and I don't particularly mind even though I would have expected the Good Gray Lady to hold off a bit, at least until the happy couple puts its pants back on, leaving the early titillation to Fox News, The Ed Show, and TMZ.
It is unseemly, of course, but it' not hard to understand. Who can figure out why the facebook IPO flopped in its first two days and is looking worse this morning? I mean, who even wants to get his brain all discombobulated with numbers about how much the company might earn and when in comparison with other investment possibilities -- among a lot else, most of it having to do with numbers? Math is boring, and hard!
Skylarking around about possibilities for their divorce settlement makes fewer neuron demands, and is quite a little sexier to boot. It isn't many more steps to speculation about Mark's first trophy wife, to be acquired when cute Priscella develops her first wrinkle.
Oh well, that's how we sell newspapers, and I don't particularly mind even though I would have expected the Good Gray Lady to hold off a bit, at least until the happy couple puts its pants back on, leaving the early titillation to Fox News, The Ed Show, and TMZ.
May 21, 2012
Geopolitical quickie
A Very Important General, USA, has recently bought the house next door to me and plans to move in when he retires later this year. I've visited with him briefly and he seems a bright and pleasant guy.
So, when we come well-aquainted enough, I will put Tam's Latest Hit under his nose and see if he laughs as hard as I did. If he does I'll propose him for high political office.
Sample: ... if the Frogs and Jerries are still worried about Tsar Vladimir I, let them cut a few social programs and reactivate an armored division or two on their own dime...
So, when we come well-aquainted enough, I will put Tam's Latest Hit under his nose and see if he laughs as hard as I did. If he does I'll propose him for high political office.
Sample: ... if the Frogs and Jerries are still worried about Tsar Vladimir I, let them cut a few social programs and reactivate an armored division or two on their own dime...
With apologies to Lawdog
On the one paw, don't we pay police officers in part for adequate marksmanship?
Officers ______ and ______ responded to the 1300 block of College Avenue on a report of shots being fired. _________said he approached the scene with his weapon drawn and saw the dog running at full speed toward him and _______. He said he shot three times with his handgun, and the dog ran away. It was not hit.
On the other paw, a dog charging head on doesn't present much center mass, so maybe we should give Officer Friendly a pass.
On the third paw, don't we pay journalists for a certain completeness in their reports? There not a syllable of explanation of the "shots being fired" call which led to the Fido confrontation.
That leaves me with one paw to spare. Put 'er there, Pawdner.
Officers ______ and ______ responded to the 1300 block of College Avenue on a report of shots being fired. _________said he approached the scene with his weapon drawn and saw the dog running at full speed toward him and _______. He said he shot three times with his handgun, and the dog ran away. It was not hit.
On the other paw, a dog charging head on doesn't present much center mass, so maybe we should give Officer Friendly a pass.
On the third paw, don't we pay journalists for a certain completeness in their reports? There not a syllable of explanation of the "shots being fired" call which led to the Fido confrontation.
That leaves me with one paw to spare. Put 'er there, Pawdner.
May 19, 2012
Ron Paul update and compassion note
So they keep talking about cold-hearted libertarian zealots? Not so fast.
Paul people swept the Minnesota convention floor with Mitt Romney. Thirteen delegate slots were up for grabs, and Dr. Ron captured 12 of them. So many that...
Paul people swept the Minnesota convention floor with Mitt Romney. Thirteen delegate slots were up for grabs, and Dr. Ron captured 12 of them. So many that...
U.S. Rep. Michele Bachmann, whose name appeared on a Romney slate Saturday, did not initially get enough votes to join the Republicans going to Tampa. She only avoided a run-off election when a Paul supporter ceded to her.
H/T again to my MSM pal, author of The World's Greatest Travel Blog
Our day at the range
It isn't that Ken and I had nothing else to do, It just seemed like a good idea to take the battered RST4 down to pond and make something dance a little.
About 60 rounds of cheap Winchester bulk pack (one FTF) at 30 feet or so. Some from a rest on the Rusty Red, the F150, but mostly fast and off hand in a Weaverish way.
About 60 rounds of cheap Winchester bulk pack (one FTF) at 30 feet or so. Some from a rest on the Rusty Red, the F150, but mostly fast and off hand in a Weaverish way.
I can think of worse ways to pass a little time, even though I recently read an expert who said serious shooters should never "plink." Get lost.
May 18, 2012
Things Ron Paul wouldn't say or do, even in Minnesota
He wouldn't walk down the street eating lutefisk on a stick. He wouldn't say he loved lefska. He wouldn't promise to name an aircraft carrier the USS Uffdah.
Still, our libertarian Minnesota political whizzes love him, and they're about to prove it by sending a disporportionate number of Paul supporters to the national convention and by ensuring that his ideas carry weight at the state-party level.
On day two of the convention, Ron Paul supporters really get a chance to flex their muscle as the 2,000-plus delegates elect a slate to represent Minnesota at the national Republican convention in Tampa. Paul delegates have already claimed 20 of the 24 delegates elected from the state’s congressional districts. Three delegate slots automatically go to party officers. Another 13 national delegates are chosen on Saturday. With the force behind them, it’s possible -- maybe probable -- that 33 of the state’s 40 delegates will be pledged to nominate Ron Paul.
It parallels the libertarian/Paul movement in Iowa and several other states, and the immediate upshot is that his ideas will not be totally ignored in Tampa. The time beyond the convention is fuzzier, but it can't hurt the liberty cause to have a young cadre of smart operatives pulling the strings in the middle levels of the GOP bureaucracy.
---
I've attended political conventions for decades as a reporter, paid operative, and delegate. An outstanding feature is the blatent cluelessness of of many party officials and most delegates. They think the purpose is to bloviate on issues. The nearest comparison would be a mechanic who thinks his job is to expound this theories of automotive design while you're paying him to grind your valves.
The Minnesota Paulites illustrate the usefulness of highly skilled tinkering after learning the party rules and mores inside and out. When you've mastered the technical aspects, then the time comes for using the machine to get to where you want to go, in this case from a higher level of statism to a a lower one. It's incremental and tedious, but it stands a better chance of reinstating our Constitution than loading up our M4geries.
Still, our libertarian Minnesota political whizzes love him, and they're about to prove it by sending a disporportionate number of Paul supporters to the national convention and by ensuring that his ideas carry weight at the state-party level.
On day two of the convention, Ron Paul supporters really get a chance to flex their muscle as the 2,000-plus delegates elect a slate to represent Minnesota at the national Republican convention in Tampa. Paul delegates have already claimed 20 of the 24 delegates elected from the state’s congressional districts. Three delegate slots automatically go to party officers. Another 13 national delegates are chosen on Saturday. With the force behind them, it’s possible -- maybe probable -- that 33 of the state’s 40 delegates will be pledged to nominate Ron Paul.
It parallels the libertarian/Paul movement in Iowa and several other states, and the immediate upshot is that his ideas will not be totally ignored in Tampa. The time beyond the convention is fuzzier, but it can't hurt the liberty cause to have a young cadre of smart operatives pulling the strings in the middle levels of the GOP bureaucracy.
---
I've attended political conventions for decades as a reporter, paid operative, and delegate. An outstanding feature is the blatent cluelessness of of many party officials and most delegates. They think the purpose is to bloviate on issues. The nearest comparison would be a mechanic who thinks his job is to expound this theories of automotive design while you're paying him to grind your valves.
The Minnesota Paulites illustrate the usefulness of highly skilled tinkering after learning the party rules and mores inside and out. When you've mastered the technical aspects, then the time comes for using the machine to get to where you want to go, in this case from a higher level of statism to a a lower one. It's incremental and tedious, but it stands a better chance of reinstating our Constitution than loading up our M4geries.
May 17, 2012
What gun for bison?
They're on the loose a half-hour west of me. .30-06?
(Because, dammit, I don't own a .50-70, that's why.)
One of the hunting chiefs:
Lieutenant Seth Hofman of the Osceola County Sheriff's Office says the buffalo are "really, really fast."
I dunno, Loot. Anything the Indians could catch on a little Appy can't be too swift. But they are big, and you might advise your warriors that while a Glock -- with several charged magazines at the ready -- might eventually put one down, they would be pretty well advised to have a Plan B. Forty-caliber oozing sores get Tatonka heap pissed.
Makes me hungry for some hump meat and boudins.
(Because, dammit, I don't own a .50-70, that's why.)
One of the hunting chiefs:
Lieutenant Seth Hofman of the Osceola County Sheriff's Office says the buffalo are "really, really fast."
I dunno, Loot. Anything the Indians could catch on a little Appy can't be too swift. But they are big, and you might advise your warriors that while a Glock -- with several charged magazines at the ready -- might eventually put one down, they would be pretty well advised to have a Plan B. Forty-caliber oozing sores get Tatonka heap pissed.
Makes me hungry for some hump meat and boudins.
May 16, 2012
Dear Diary
It's hard to concentrate on sharing interesting and important things with Blogville when you have just lost the second semi-important set of keys within a month.
They're around, and eventually I'll discover them. Meanwhile I think I'm developing some significant philosophical observations.
--It is better to own about half as much stuff as you do.
--Clutter is almost as dangerous as an Obama second term.
---
EDIT 1: Aha. Found the more important of the lost set of keys.
EDIT 2: That blurt about owning half as much does not apply to firearms nor ammunition. I should have made that clear. What could I have been thinking?
May 15, 2012
Father of the Year
I understand the impulse to call the cops on your teenage kid. It's an urge a father should resist, and I predict a bad outcome for a family down in Everly.
The head of the household was rooting around in his 17-year-old's bedroom. He found a little pot and some drug paraphernalia, so he called the sheriff and invited Officer Friendly to search the rest of the house. More contraband was discovered, and Pops waved bye-bye to Junior as the forces of law and order hauled him off to the clink.
Family values, eh?
Better alternatives suggest themselves. You might have been able to talk to the kid. If not, a boxing lesson was in order, from you if you're fit enough or otherwise from a well-muscled uncle, maybe. Choosing to invite the po-po to handle your family dysfunction leads to problems you weren't smart enough to think of. Among them:
1. Sooner or later the cops are going to send him back, and Father's Day at your house is likely to be a restrained celebration.
2. You're probably stuck with him for longer than you planned. The arrest makes him a good deal less employable. Even the Army won't be anxious to take him off your hands.
3. If your motive was to teach the lad a good lesson, you undoubtedly did: "My Old Man is a Treacherous Bastard."
The head of the household was rooting around in his 17-year-old's bedroom. He found a little pot and some drug paraphernalia, so he called the sheriff and invited Officer Friendly to search the rest of the house. More contraband was discovered, and Pops waved bye-bye to Junior as the forces of law and order hauled him off to the clink.
Family values, eh?
Better alternatives suggest themselves. You might have been able to talk to the kid. If not, a boxing lesson was in order, from you if you're fit enough or otherwise from a well-muscled uncle, maybe. Choosing to invite the po-po to handle your family dysfunction leads to problems you weren't smart enough to think of. Among them:
1. Sooner or later the cops are going to send him back, and Father's Day at your house is likely to be a restrained celebration.
2. You're probably stuck with him for longer than you planned. The arrest makes him a good deal less employable. Even the Army won't be anxious to take him off your hands.
3. If your motive was to teach the lad a good lesson, you undoubtedly did: "My Old Man is a Treacherous Bastard."
May 14, 2012
Yep, we're broke
All New York City needs to rise to the economic level of Yap is a new manhole cover policy. Drill a hole in the center.
It a tough way to make a living, but enterprising thieves have been stealing the 300-pound covers lately -- here in the years of our Obama recovery from the Bush et (most definitely) al. financial debacle. The chunk of Con Ed cast iron is worth about 30 bucks at the scrap yard.
It probably isn't a good idea to consider a long-term investment in Manhole Heist, Inc. When Ben Bernanke gets wind of this new store of value, he'll probably seize control and figure out a way to create manhole covers by the trillions. They'll depreciate, and pretty soon it will take a wheel barrow load of them to buy a pair of socks.
It a tough way to make a living, but enterprising thieves have been stealing the 300-pound covers lately -- here in the years of our Obama recovery from the Bush et (most definitely) al. financial debacle. The chunk of Con Ed cast iron is worth about 30 bucks at the scrap yard.
It probably isn't a good idea to consider a long-term investment in Manhole Heist, Inc. When Ben Bernanke gets wind of this new store of value, he'll probably seize control and figure out a way to create manhole covers by the trillions. They'll depreciate, and pretty soon it will take a wheel barrow load of them to buy a pair of socks.
May 11, 2012
And while I'm feeling pastoral...
Welcome to the blog roll, Jake.
He's another of the folks willing to dirty his hands up a bit in order to put some prime rib on our citifed tables.
He's another of the folks willing to dirty his hands up a bit in order to put some prime rib on our citifed tables.
Kill the government
Good idea, but it's like trying to stomp a hog snake with your sneakers. Derned thing just keeps on squiggling. Ask any of the 44 souls who populate Mount Sterling, Iowa, down along the Missouri border.
Mount Sterling is an official city with an ambition to be an official nonentity. Even the city council agrees it has nothing much to offer and has voted itself and its town into oblivion except as a "populated place" to the cartographers. They can live with that level of recognition and organization. Couldn't we all?
Not so fast says Higher Authority. The vote was 2-0. The third council person was absent . Never mind her presence would have made no difference. Everyone down there wants to disband.
The confusion comes from a decision some years ago -- no one seems sure just when and no one much gives a damn -- to pare the council from five to three. The official red tape got tangled, so maybe two members didn't really constitute a legal quorum. Now the lawyers and state bureaucrats are involved, and Mount Sterling remains alive as a taxing, law-enforcing, zoning-law capable bureaucracy with authority to borrow money it couldn't possibly repay. Sort of like the government that lives in Washington.
If it's that hard for 44 good folks to behead their government, we libertarian/ancap fanciers may have a longer row to hoe than we thought. Just have to keep on stompin' I guess.
Mount Sterling is an official city with an ambition to be an official nonentity. Even the city council agrees it has nothing much to offer and has voted itself and its town into oblivion except as a "populated place" to the cartographers. They can live with that level of recognition and organization. Couldn't we all?
Not so fast says Higher Authority. The vote was 2-0. The third council person was absent . Never mind her presence would have made no difference. Everyone down there wants to disband.
The confusion comes from a decision some years ago -- no one seems sure just when and no one much gives a damn -- to pare the council from five to three. The official red tape got tangled, so maybe two members didn't really constitute a legal quorum. Now the lawyers and state bureaucrats are involved, and Mount Sterling remains alive as a taxing, law-enforcing, zoning-law capable bureaucracy with authority to borrow money it couldn't possibly repay. Sort of like the government that lives in Washington.
If it's that hard for 44 good folks to behead their government, we libertarian/ancap fanciers may have a longer row to hoe than we thought. Just have to keep on stompin' I guess.
Shooting Vietnam
Horst Faas won a Pulitzer for combat shots in Vietnam. Later an RPG wound confined him to the AP bureau in Saigon where he added a second legend to name, as a trainer, teacher, editor.
He was also famous in our profession for handing out Nikon Fs like candy, one to virtually every would-be war free lancer who stumbled into his Saigon office. The camera came with unlimited Tri-X and one instruction: Come back with good pictures.
Personally, Mr. Faas carried a Leica.
He died yesterday at 79. RIP to a consummate professional.
He was also famous in our profession for handing out Nikon Fs like candy, one to virtually every would-be war free lancer who stumbled into his Saigon office. The camera came with unlimited Tri-X and one instruction: Come back with good pictures.
Personally, Mr. Faas carried a Leica.
He died yesterday at 79. RIP to a consummate professional.
May 9, 2012
Losing Lugar
We may need to supply mouth guards to every liberal and neocon (as though they really are two separate snake balls) in America. Indiana fomented a national tragedy by tarring and feathering Senator Richard Lugar in yesterday's GOP primary. Already the establishment politicians have ground their teeth down to nubs.
Without Lugar the Senate is doomed to deadlock. Worse, the era of "collegiality" and "bipartisanship" is in danger of doing a do-do.
----
Bipartisanship:
Senator Lugar: I'm getting bored with this, Ted. You let me push my wars in Afghanistan and Iran and I'll support your $2 billion to hire more cops and teachers. Okay?
Senator Kennedy: We're getting close, but you get one war or the other, not both. C'mon, I got Harvard AND Williams to worry about.
Lugar: Okay, Afghanistan, then. But I also want that $250 million for Wabash River beautification. Hell, we're borrowing it all from the Chinese, anyway.
Kennedy: Done! Let's go to the Monicle in a bipartisan manner and find a lobbyist to pay and drink martinis and be collegial together.
Without Lugar the Senate is doomed to deadlock. Worse, the era of "collegiality" and "bipartisanship" is in danger of doing a do-do.
----
Bipartisanship:
Senator Lugar: I'm getting bored with this, Ted. You let me push my wars in Afghanistan and Iran and I'll support your $2 billion to hire more cops and teachers. Okay?
Senator Kennedy: We're getting close, but you get one war or the other, not both. C'mon, I got Harvard AND Williams to worry about.
Lugar: Okay, Afghanistan, then. But I also want that $250 million for Wabash River beautification. Hell, we're borrowing it all from the Chinese, anyway.
Kennedy: Done! Let's go to the Monicle in a bipartisan manner and find a lobbyist to pay and drink martinis and be collegial together.
Thanks again, Dad
Welcome company warmed my house for a couple of days, so I took the liberty of not writing. That meant I missed taking public notice of my father's birthday yesterday. May 8, 1916-February 13, 2004.
Turgenev. Fathers and Sons. Their mutual awkwardness and conflicts both tempered and made more melancholy for the lucky ones whose personalities are welded in love, however much the affection may go undemonstrated.
It was and is too easy to define Dad by his fears. His boyhood was the horror of Depression poverty in rural isolation. From those ugly years he took away a vast prudence. We always had toys. We were never hungry. But I always lived with stern fatherly reminders that many things were not possible for "people like us."
From time to time the strictures of the latter would nearly sever us. That always moved us to look for a way to repair the bonds. Often enough, that meant a gift, preferably hand made, from our personal work shops. Once, in his 70s, the result was:
A box. Quite a nice one, but still just a box? Not quite, and it must be understood that my father held a monumental indifference to firearms and shooting. He found my weapons interests somewhat silly, and certainly a poor use of money. Nevertheless:
From no plans, no patterns. Like most of Dad's projects, it was a work of pure thought, at most aided by a glance at a magazine picture.
It still goes afield with me, Partner. Thanks again.
Turgenev. Fathers and Sons. Their mutual awkwardness and conflicts both tempered and made more melancholy for the lucky ones whose personalities are welded in love, however much the affection may go undemonstrated.
It was and is too easy to define Dad by his fears. His boyhood was the horror of Depression poverty in rural isolation. From those ugly years he took away a vast prudence. We always had toys. We were never hungry. But I always lived with stern fatherly reminders that many things were not possible for "people like us."
From time to time the strictures of the latter would nearly sever us. That always moved us to look for a way to repair the bonds. Often enough, that meant a gift, preferably hand made, from our personal work shops. Once, in his 70s, the result was:
A box. Quite a nice one, but still just a box? Not quite, and it must be understood that my father held a monumental indifference to firearms and shooting. He found my weapons interests somewhat silly, and certainly a poor use of money. Nevertheless:
From no plans, no patterns. Like most of Dad's projects, it was a work of pure thought, at most aided by a glance at a magazine picture.
It still goes afield with me, Partner. Thanks again.
May 6, 2012
Sinful Sunday Thought
I have a small project in mind. Strictly speaking, it requires a building permit. Even more strictly, the building permit will not be issued without a variance because I live in a "nonconforming structure." That is, my little house, on about one and 1/4 acres, sets only 30 feet from the rear property line. The Smugleye-on-Lake Commissariat requires 35 feet. No credit is given for the the 200 feet of grass and trees in front of the house even though the greensward fans out to a generous 310 feet along the road.
It costs $200 (actually, about the cost of the project istelf) to beg for a variance. Nonrefundable. The zoning czars and the variance czars will get around to saying da or nyet in a matter of mere weeks or months.
So, since the project would change no footprint, would be unnoticeable to neighbors, and could probably be done without alerting the zoning checka, I'm thinking just going ahead and pleading ignorance or something if my victimless crime comes to official notice.
But that isn't the sinful impulse.
One of the village council commissars peddles used cars. After the customer agrees to the deal, he tacks on a "documentation" fee, that is, he makes the sucker pay for his paperwork. (light bulb in the text balloon)
I write up the variance request, cut the check, fill out the long building permit form, and let the SOL bureaucracy play with itself until the issue is settled. I then surprise the Smugleye Politburo with a dun, my documentation fee. "Net 30 days; 1 1/2 per cent per month on the unpaid balance thereafter...Thank you for your business!"
I respond to nothing they say, just keep sending "Past Due!" notices and, when the fun of that wears off, file a small-claims action. That costs $30, and -- even with the variance fee -- it strikes me as cheap thrills. -- even if I don't slip a tip to a reporter friend known for her weird sense of humor.
It costs $200 (actually, about the cost of the project istelf) to beg for a variance. Nonrefundable. The zoning czars and the variance czars will get around to saying da or nyet in a matter of mere weeks or months.
So, since the project would change no footprint, would be unnoticeable to neighbors, and could probably be done without alerting the zoning checka, I'm thinking just going ahead and pleading ignorance or something if my victimless crime comes to official notice.
But that isn't the sinful impulse.
One of the village council commissars peddles used cars. After the customer agrees to the deal, he tacks on a "documentation" fee, that is, he makes the sucker pay for his paperwork. (light bulb in the text balloon)
I write up the variance request, cut the check, fill out the long building permit form, and let the SOL bureaucracy play with itself until the issue is settled. I then surprise the Smugleye Politburo with a dun, my documentation fee. "Net 30 days; 1 1/2 per cent per month on the unpaid balance thereafter...Thank you for your business!"
I respond to nothing they say, just keep sending "Past Due!" notices and, when the fun of that wears off, file a small-claims action. That costs $30, and -- even with the variance fee -- it strikes me as cheap thrills. -- even if I don't slip a tip to a reporter friend known for her weird sense of humor.
May 5, 2012
Poor Tam
She needed to peform surgery on a bubble-package imprisoning a baby seal. Rodded but not bladed, she had to humiliate herself by borrowing a knife. At least her sad tale produced as good a quote-of-the-day as any:
...what kind of adult goes about their business without a knife on their person?
May 4, 2012
Wheeee!
Hey Kids! I almost forgot to tell you. Come to Okoboji. It's Willie Weekend! We have Willies wiggling all over the place. Big Willies and So-So Willies and Wee Willies. One is very special, and if you can grab it it you'll get a wonderful reward. Wink.
---
Okay, so it's really Walleye Weekend, opening of the season with great fanfare and an astounding increase in retail prices. It marks the beginning of the annual Fleece -the-Tourist extravaganza which runs through September.
There really is a specialWillie walleye. It's tagged and worth a big bundle ($30k ? I never pay much attention.)
This post results from what is usually a nice quiet, traffic-free jaunt down to the nearest country convenience store. Also from my distaste for turning the quiet, contemplative, solitary art of fishing in to a goddam rave-cum-carnival-cum-lottery.
---
Okay, so it's really Walleye Weekend, opening of the season with great fanfare and an astounding increase in retail prices. It marks the beginning of the annual Fleece -the-Tourist extravaganza which runs through September.
There really is a special
This post results from what is usually a nice quiet, traffic-free jaunt down to the nearest country convenience store. Also from my distaste for turning the quiet, contemplative, solitary art of fishing in to a goddam rave-cum-carnival-cum-lottery.
May 2, 2012
Hey Jack, you seen my boots?
Let's say this college student got caught in a dragnet. Let's say he was hauled to a California Lubyanka. Let's say he was told he would be released and driven home. Let's say he was then tossed into a tiny holding cell and left there for five days, without food, water, or a toilet. The reason? "We just forgot."
And let's add, just for good measure, that the jailers accidentally left a dose or two of meth in that cell.
Now, what would you call authorities like that? Incompetent? Criminally insane? Thugs? Guards-in-training for the next Dachau?
Wrong, Bunkie. You should call them dedicated employees of your federal government, specifically of the Drug Enforcement Administration.
.
And let's add, just for good measure, that the jailers accidentally left a dose or two of meth in that cell.
Now, what would you call authorities like that? Incompetent? Criminally insane? Thugs? Guards-in-training for the next Dachau?
Wrong, Bunkie. You should call them dedicated employees of your federal government, specifically of the Drug Enforcement Administration.
.
May 1, 2012
A sterling idea
The Republican lawmaker probably didn't mean to be taken too seriously when he said the deadlocked Iowa legislature should throw up its hands, go home, and try again next year. I suspect he was just amusing himself by jerking chains.
Our Capitol Theatre of the Absurd is skivvy-knotted over -- you guessed it -- how much to extort and spend. Most of the hot air is being belched over commercial property taxes which are too high. Republicans want to cut them. Democrats, secure in their knowledge that all business people are thieving plutocrats, don't.
If our solons go home without writing a budget, the state would, theoretically, have to shut down. And we learn the results from Senate Boss Michael Gronstal, who represents AFSCME, SIEU, the teacher's union, and, incidentally at best, the people who elected him.
“Therefore, one-quarter of all people in nursing homes would be thrown out ... and schools would lose thousands of teachers. It’s not really a plan that works.”
Of course. And conservatives, being what they are, would delay evicting your nonagenarian grandma from the care center until a nice January blizzard. Just to make the point more vividly. Gurneys in the snow banks. What a photo op.
---
Both sides bring considerable financial lunacy to the tax debate. Democrats argue that lower business rates will mean higher residential rates. Quite true. Republicans say,"So what?" although in much subtler terms and accompanied by various plans to delay and disguise the rape of the smaller taxpayer.
Neither likes to soil its hands with the ultimate solution to confiscatory property taxes. Which is, broadly sketched, to ravish goofy spending programs, swinging sabres and thrusting spears with all the fervor of a Mongol horde riding down a Crimean village.
True, school districts might have to do way with a few administrators who never deal with an actual student from one year to the next. Cities and towns would face survival without the services of a a third-assistant deputy zoning administrator. Other horrors would likewise exist, but, in the end, the more lightly taxed proletarian might no longer need to pick his neighbor's pocket to finance great-gram's bedroom.
Our Capitol Theatre of the Absurd is skivvy-knotted over -- you guessed it -- how much to extort and spend. Most of the hot air is being belched over commercial property taxes which are too high. Republicans want to cut them. Democrats, secure in their knowledge that all business people are thieving plutocrats, don't.
If our solons go home without writing a budget, the state would, theoretically, have to shut down. And we learn the results from Senate Boss Michael Gronstal, who represents AFSCME, SIEU, the teacher's union, and, incidentally at best, the people who elected him.
“Therefore, one-quarter of all people in nursing homes would be thrown out ... and schools would lose thousands of teachers. It’s not really a plan that works.”
Of course. And conservatives, being what they are, would delay evicting your nonagenarian grandma from the care center until a nice January blizzard. Just to make the point more vividly. Gurneys in the snow banks. What a photo op.
---
Both sides bring considerable financial lunacy to the tax debate. Democrats argue that lower business rates will mean higher residential rates. Quite true. Republicans say,"So what?" although in much subtler terms and accompanied by various plans to delay and disguise the rape of the smaller taxpayer.
Neither likes to soil its hands with the ultimate solution to confiscatory property taxes. Which is, broadly sketched, to ravish goofy spending programs, swinging sabres and thrusting spears with all the fervor of a Mongol horde riding down a Crimean village.
True, school districts might have to do way with a few administrators who never deal with an actual student from one year to the next. Cities and towns would face survival without the services of a a third-assistant deputy zoning administrator. Other horrors would likewise exist, but, in the end, the more lightly taxed proletarian might no longer need to pick his neighbor's pocket to finance great-gram's bedroom.
Apr 30, 2012
Social solecisms
After the awards ceremony, we had a family lunch at a Des Moines brew pub. One of my heirs and assigns had just accepted an academic award and shaken hands with the governor and with Lieutenant Governor Kimberly Reynolds. She was generally unknown until Gov. Branstad picked her as running mate. My son idly wondered, "Where did she come from?" I replied helpfully, "Out of left field."
Then, never one to shut up at opportune times, I noted that she's at least the third consecutive female loot gov because we found out that if we put "them" there we never have to give "one" an important job.
I'll probably try not to say that again while sitting at a table with three lovely and liberated ladies. :)
---
(Turns out she's the fifth.)
Then, never one to shut up at opportune times, I noted that she's at least the third consecutive female loot gov because we found out that if we put "them" there we never have to give "one" an important job.
I'll probably try not to say that again while sitting at a table with three lovely and liberated ladies. :)
---
(Turns out she's the fifth.)
Apr 26, 2012
Vintage Gun Porn in Progress
You would never do such a thing to a U.S. Springfield Model of 1903 today. Once upon a time, though, the gun world was tripping over them. In the 50s they traded for $20 or so, and every would-be gun smith in the country "sporterized" at least one.
In its original 1941 form it would have been a classic relic of a wild time in American history, the year we knew we would certainly have to fight Nazis and Fascists. And maybe Japanese.
It was the year when our recruits outnumbered our rifles. We turned to the private arms industry. This example, in the 3,1xx xxx range, was built by Remington on machinery from Rock Island Arsenal which had been in cosmoline for more than 20 years. It was still a 1903 in every important respect -- machined steel, walnut, no short cuts. Over the next two years the 03s evolved into the 1903A3 -- around serial number 3,300,000.
The barreled action came to me a number of years ago, already kitchen-tabled beyond restoration. Over the years I've ground, polished, and rebarreled with an unissued 1944 High Standard tube. (Shortened to 22 inches.)
The auction-bargain stock is by Bishop, a utilitarian model, laughingly sold as "semi-inletted." Indeed, by a distracted high school dropout swinging an Estwing.
But all yields to work, sharp chisels, and judicious use of Accraglas. You don't forget the evening the action slipped snugly into place and, at last, stayed right where it was as you tightened the stock screws.
Perhaps the walnut was not too utilitarian. A certain amount of figure appeared as the heavily oversized stock was trimmed, and it demanded an old-time finish. I used a few coats of warm and thinned linseed oil, rubbed in with the hands, then let it dry for a long time, days or weeks. I finished with plain old Johnson paste wax, as many coats as I have patience for. This one has about a dozen. When it gets smudgy a wipedown restores the subdued glow. When it gets thin it's time for another coat or two.
The pictures fail to do justice to last week's bluing work by a genius named Jeff.
It's not quite done. I'm unhappy with the aftermarket safety and will replace it. I haven't chosen the sighting system. The Redfield peep would be in keeping with her heritage, but, then, so would the Weaver K4. We'll see.
(Click photos to enlarge.)
In its original 1941 form it would have been a classic relic of a wild time in American history, the year we knew we would certainly have to fight Nazis and Fascists. And maybe Japanese.
It was the year when our recruits outnumbered our rifles. We turned to the private arms industry. This example, in the 3,1xx xxx range, was built by Remington on machinery from Rock Island Arsenal which had been in cosmoline for more than 20 years. It was still a 1903 in every important respect -- machined steel, walnut, no short cuts. Over the next two years the 03s evolved into the 1903A3 -- around serial number 3,300,000.
The barreled action came to me a number of years ago, already kitchen-tabled beyond restoration. Over the years I've ground, polished, and rebarreled with an unissued 1944 High Standard tube. (Shortened to 22 inches.)
The auction-bargain stock is by Bishop, a utilitarian model, laughingly sold as "semi-inletted." Indeed, by a distracted high school dropout swinging an Estwing.
But all yields to work, sharp chisels, and judicious use of Accraglas. You don't forget the evening the action slipped snugly into place and, at last, stayed right where it was as you tightened the stock screws.
Perhaps the walnut was not too utilitarian. A certain amount of figure appeared as the heavily oversized stock was trimmed, and it demanded an old-time finish. I used a few coats of warm and thinned linseed oil, rubbed in with the hands, then let it dry for a long time, days or weeks. I finished with plain old Johnson paste wax, as many coats as I have patience for. This one has about a dozen. When it gets smudgy a wipedown restores the subdued glow. When it gets thin it's time for another coat or two.
The pictures fail to do justice to last week's bluing work by a genius named Jeff.
(Click photos to enlarge.)
The TSA: A fun place to work
Francesco Canesco is probably no more of a terroristic threat to you, me, and the Republic than any other congressperson. And even if he is, his sins are not of the sort that can be uncovered by twiddling his willy. The TSA does not get this.
Rep. Canesco says a TSA agent at the San Antonio airport became too friendly with his privates, so he pushed the groping hand aside and accused him of assault. The federal cop said, "No. You assaulted me." Supervisors calmed the whole thing down.
A week later the incident was repeated, and we can forgive even an elected official for complaining that he's been placed on the TSA list of those who must be palpated often and deeply because:
The TSA has a history of bearing grudges against commuters who issue complaints against the agency. A mother who was detained in a glass cell by TSA agents in Phoenix in 2010 said the incident was retribution for a previous complaint regarding confiscation of her breast milk.
In full fairness, we shouldn't overlook the possibility that pervs of the homosexual persuasion are over-represented in the San Antonio TSA corps and that they simply find Congressman Canesco very hot. That's the price of fame and beauty, Congressman.
Anyway, it's all something to think about for the next time you put your 12-year-old grandson on a flight to San Antonio.
Rep. Canesco says a TSA agent at the San Antonio airport became too friendly with his privates, so he pushed the groping hand aside and accused him of assault. The federal cop said, "No. You assaulted me." Supervisors calmed the whole thing down.
A week later the incident was repeated, and we can forgive even an elected official for complaining that he's been placed on the TSA list of those who must be palpated often and deeply because:
The TSA has a history of bearing grudges against commuters who issue complaints against the agency. A mother who was detained in a glass cell by TSA agents in Phoenix in 2010 said the incident was retribution for a previous complaint regarding confiscation of her breast milk.
In full fairness, we shouldn't overlook the possibility that pervs of the homosexual persuasion are over-represented in the San Antonio TSA corps and that they simply find Congressman Canesco very hot. That's the price of fame and beauty, Congressman.
Anyway, it's all something to think about for the next time you put your 12-year-old grandson on a flight to San Antonio.
CNBC enlightens us this morning about the oil market. Production is lately stable, and so is demand. We Yanks are actually using quite a little less, and China's economy is said to be slowing enough to dampen demand in the Middle Kingdom.
So why the still goofily high gasoline prices ($3.70 in my neighborhood)?
The CNBC expert reminds us we're being extorted to the tune of 15 per cent by "geopolitical" concerns. He probably pulled the number from a sunless region, but the underlying point seems correct. People who buy, sell, and use oil are scared witless that AIPAC will be able to rent the United States armed forces in order to spend a pleasant few months bombing Iran, Syria, and Egypt. Maybe Lebanon and Jordan, too, just in case, y'know.
It might not hurt to send a nice letter to your congressman suggesting that United States aims may not be perfectly aligned with those of the Tel Aviv politicians. If you can enclose a nice campaign contribution -- say, a sum requiring two or more commas -- it certainly would help.
---
This also argues for building the Keystone pipeline. Canada is a relatively benign little country, well-oiled but with no desire to blow up all of our Christians. Its outrages run to the order of the Toronto Blue Jays and Giselle McKenzie, and we can certainly live with that, can't we?
So why the still goofily high gasoline prices ($3.70 in my neighborhood)?
The CNBC expert reminds us we're being extorted to the tune of 15 per cent by "geopolitical" concerns. He probably pulled the number from a sunless region, but the underlying point seems correct. People who buy, sell, and use oil are scared witless that AIPAC will be able to rent the United States armed forces in order to spend a pleasant few months bombing Iran, Syria, and Egypt. Maybe Lebanon and Jordan, too, just in case, y'know.
It might not hurt to send a nice letter to your congressman suggesting that United States aims may not be perfectly aligned with those of the Tel Aviv politicians. If you can enclose a nice campaign contribution -- say, a sum requiring two or more commas -- it certainly would help.
---
This also argues for building the Keystone pipeline. Canada is a relatively benign little country, well-oiled but with no desire to blow up all of our Christians. Its outrages run to the order of the Toronto Blue Jays and Giselle McKenzie, and we can certainly live with that, can't we?
Apr 25, 2012
So, your horrified mate in the next cubicle has given up hamburgers. Not only will the ammonia used to clean up pink slime kill him, the added hormones are likely to shirvel his penis or grow an extra toe. Something horrible, anyway. The electric teevee told him so.
Jinglebob has had enough and decided to pass along a point or two. Among them, in reference to those killer hormone additives to cow food:
One Birth Control Pill contains the same amount of estrogen
as 125,000 lbs of beef from an implanted steers.
As to gassed pink slime, there's about there's about twice as much ammonia in your MacDonald's bun as in the cow patty itself.
There's a good deal more there from our buddy at the live-moo end of the beef business. It should reduce the anxiety you feel from broiling a small sirloin to go with your Saturday morning eggs.
Jinglebob has had enough and decided to pass along a point or two. Among them, in reference to those killer hormone additives to cow food:
One Birth Control Pill contains the same amount of estrogen
as 125,000 lbs of beef from an implanted steers.
As to gassed pink slime, there's about there's about twice as much ammonia in your MacDonald's bun as in the cow patty itself.
There's a good deal more there from our buddy at the live-moo end of the beef business. It should reduce the anxiety you feel from broiling a small sirloin to go with your Saturday morning eggs.
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.
---
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...
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.
---
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...
Apr 24, 2012
Why we're broke
A hot bulletin from local radio announces a "stakeholder meeting" for one of our
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.
Apr 23, 2012
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.
Apr 19, 2012
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.
---
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.
---
*Dr. Brewster, needless to say, was a Keynesian.
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.
---
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.
---
*Dr. Brewster, needless to say, was a Keynesian.
Apr 18, 2012
... or even above the fold
Fox news hired Dick Morris this morning to tell us who should run under Romney.
Rubio, he said. No one else.
The Fox chatterer said, but, but, but, Rubio isn't experienced. He's just a first-term senator...
Rubio, he said. No one else.
The Fox chatterer said, but, but, but, Rubio isn't experienced. He's just a first-term senator...
Blowing up cows and stealing the hookers' rubbers
Sometimes you shouldn't read below the fold.
In the high Colorado Rockies a bunch of cows sought winter shelter in a cabin and froze to death. Their frosted corpses are worrying the game wardens who are thinking of converting them to pink slime via dynamite or C4 or something. It's a big controversy. Fer krissake. Since they're still frozen, why not get local radio to announce "Free beef; first-come, first served; don't forget your rechargeable recipro saws."
In New York the guardians of our morals have been confiscating the working girls' condom inventory. It's evidence, don't you know, that they intended to profit by violating the Seventh Commandment as it is interpreted by the pure souls in Albany and Gracie Mansion. (if you dare utter "Huh? Spitzer? Weiner?," you are a cynical anti-government sorehead and should lose your free-speech rights.) The hooker-rubber controversy is costing millions, generating ill-will among the joy-for-pay set, and stimulating the AIDS contagion. How about a moratorium, say for ten years, on all government cervix oversight? If it creates a hole lot of trouble we can always return to a program of sex-by-official-permit only. (Yes, whoredom can be a sleazy empire, just like New York politics. If that's important to you, you should, in fairness, agitate to outlaw both.)
And don't even get me started about a few million the feds spent on a top-to-bottom study of gay men's penis sizes.
Maybe the Victorian-era British Colonial Ministry had the long and the short of it. Perhaps some countries are not ready for self-government.
In the high Colorado Rockies a bunch of cows sought winter shelter in a cabin and froze to death. Their frosted corpses are worrying the game wardens who are thinking of converting them to pink slime via dynamite or C4 or something. It's a big controversy. Fer krissake. Since they're still frozen, why not get local radio to announce "Free beef; first-come, first served; don't forget your rechargeable recipro saws."
In New York the guardians of our morals have been confiscating the working girls' condom inventory. It's evidence, don't you know, that they intended to profit by violating the Seventh Commandment as it is interpreted by the pure souls in Albany and Gracie Mansion. (if you dare utter "Huh? Spitzer? Weiner?," you are a cynical anti-government sorehead and should lose your free-speech rights.) The hooker-rubber controversy is costing millions, generating ill-will among the joy-for-pay set, and stimulating the AIDS contagion. How about a moratorium, say for ten years, on all government cervix oversight? If it creates a hole lot of trouble we can always return to a program of sex-by-official-permit only. (Yes, whoredom can be a sleazy empire, just like New York politics. If that's important to you, you should, in fairness, agitate to outlaw both.)
And don't even get me started about a few million the feds spent on a top-to-bottom study of gay men's penis sizes.
Maybe the Victorian-era British Colonial Ministry had the long and the short of it. Perhaps some countries are not ready for self-government.
Apr 16, 2012
Pistol-packin' Pippa
Lay that pistol down, Babe...
What is it about leggy but not very bright Brit royalites that gets them into so much trouble when they go to Paris?
To be fair, Pippa herself is not accused of waving a semi-auto around in Paris traffic. It was her pal, the guy driving, who is said to have "jokingly" pointed the pistol at the paparazzi. Still, the Fleet Street tabs have pretty much convicted her of unseemliness while in the vicinity of a firearm. I think that's an actual crime in the Sceptred Isle, but it may be merely a social faux pas in La Belle France.
Thank God for the Surete. We will get to the bottom of this.
What is it about leggy but not very bright Brit royalites that gets them into so much trouble when they go to Paris?
To be fair, Pippa herself is not accused of waving a semi-auto around in Paris traffic. It was her pal, the guy driving, who is said to have "jokingly" pointed the pistol at the paparazzi. Still, the Fleet Street tabs have pretty much convicted her of unseemliness while in the vicinity of a firearm. I think that's an actual crime in the Sceptred Isle, but it may be merely a social faux pas in La Belle France.
Thank God for the Surete. We will get to the bottom of this.
Peril from the skies
My proletarian birds, mostly blackies and robins, have fled in panic. Perched in a high burr oak branch hanging over the guest cabin, watchful as a sober Secret Service agent, the predator lurks -- or did until I scared him off trying for a photo.
It's a sparrow hawk. They're not uncommon in the woods and fields around here, but this is the first time I've spotted one hunting the Camp J grounds.
I hope he hangs around. This is one of the years when I need to trim up the no-mow zone, and he'd be handy for helping control the creepie-crawlies displaced by the tidying -- the field mice, the occasional garter snake, and maybe even the village zoning czar whom I believe lurks there, fiddling hopefully with his video camera.
It's a sparrow hawk. They're not uncommon in the woods and fields around here, but this is the first time I've spotted one hunting the Camp J grounds.
I hope he hangs around. This is one of the years when I need to trim up the no-mow zone, and he'd be handy for helping control the creepie-crawlies displaced by the tidying -- the field mice, the occasional garter snake, and maybe even the village zoning czar whom I believe lurks there, fiddling hopefully with his video camera.
Apr 15, 2012
Tam strikes again
Pocketa, Pocketa, Pocketa, Mr. Mitty.
It's just you and a couple of girls heroically engaging the 82nd Airborne and at least one MEU, the ladies with their right-way Smiths and wrong-way Colts, you with whatever banger that most tickles your tactical gonads.
After many adventures you are victorious. America is restored to liberty and prosperity, and the Fred Waring Singers warble Over the Rainbow as the females vie for your heroic affections.
The reality might vary a smidgen from that.
What disturbs me is how many of the "I bought a Century Arms AK and a case of ammo; let's get iton!" crowd talk like they're looking forward to this because, I don't know, it means no more mortgage payments, or they won't have to go in to work on
Monday.
It is one thing to expect an Obama or Romney or successor to fiddle away America's last burning days. It is something else to hope for it, even with oodles of charged magazines, a basement full of canned tuna, and 50 MREs in the bugout bag.
The odds do not favor our run-of-the-mill Armageddon Arnie as the alpha warlord in a real world of total collapse, his daydreams to the contrary notwithstanding. I suspect about the best he could hope for is being the sergeant in charge of burning the civilian corpses. (Put the little kids in this pile, Corporal. Stack the rest over along the creek. Send a detail for kerosene. And detail a private bring me my gas mask.)
It could come to that, and to ignore the possibility is foolish. Preparation -- the equipment and supplies and attitudes to preserve the people you love -- is not foolish. But that is plan B or C or Z.
Plan A is to keep scrabbling, even if it means continuing to vote. To keep talking, even if it means discourse with statist idiots. We might even win. Meanwhile we can always side with that old poseur Winston Churchill. During the leadup to the Suez crisis he was chided for not being sufficiently belligerent and replied:
"To jaw-jaw is better than to war-war."
It's just you and a couple of girls heroically engaging the 82nd Airborne and at least one MEU, the ladies with their right-way Smiths and wrong-way Colts, you with whatever banger that most tickles your tactical gonads.
After many adventures you are victorious. America is restored to liberty and prosperity, and the Fred Waring Singers warble Over the Rainbow as the females vie for your heroic affections.
The reality might vary a smidgen from that.
What disturbs me is how many of the "I bought a Century Arms AK and a case of ammo; let's get iton!" crowd talk like they're looking forward to this because, I don't know, it means no more mortgage payments, or they won't have to go in to work on
Monday.
It is one thing to expect an Obama or Romney or successor to fiddle away America's last burning days. It is something else to hope for it, even with oodles of charged magazines, a basement full of canned tuna, and 50 MREs in the bugout bag.
The odds do not favor our run-of-the-mill Armageddon Arnie as the alpha warlord in a real world of total collapse, his daydreams to the contrary notwithstanding. I suspect about the best he could hope for is being the sergeant in charge of burning the civilian corpses. (Put the little kids in this pile, Corporal. Stack the rest over along the creek. Send a detail for kerosene. And detail a private bring me my gas mask.)
It could come to that, and to ignore the possibility is foolish. Preparation -- the equipment and supplies and attitudes to preserve the people you love -- is not foolish. But that is plan B or C or Z.
Plan A is to keep scrabbling, even if it means continuing to vote. To keep talking, even if it means discourse with statist idiots. We might even win. Meanwhile we can always side with that old poseur Winston Churchill. During the leadup to the Suez crisis he was chided for not being sufficiently belligerent and replied:
"To jaw-jaw is better than to war-war."
A little Sunday side trip into radio
You don't have to be a Hoosier to like Indiana Radio Watch. You just have to be an unreconstructed radio freak. Blaine Thompson probably knows as much as anyone about Indiana radio as it is now and as it was back in the 8-pot-Gates days.
The periodic email report always includes at least one thing I find interesting. This morning it notes that the little station WBZQ in Huntington, about 20 miles southwest of Fort Wayne, has been sold. So what? Little stations change hands like used Chevys.
Because the price was 75,000 Bernanke-inflated dollars.
So what if it was just one step up from a coffee-pot operation, putting out 500 watts until sunset, then 13 after dark -- yes, only about twice what your old Cobra CB exhaled before you wired in the illegal linear amplifier?
Only a generation ago a station like that would have grossed maybe $100,000 a year. (For perspective, that amount of 1970 money would have bought you about 20 new Corvettes, loaded. )
The rule of thumb held that an AM radio station was worth about two times its gross revenue. Real estate was extra.
So comes the end of my denial. AM radio IS dead. Bury it beside the Yankee dollar.
---
(Blaine would be glad to put you on his mailing list, but I don't care to publish his email address. He's on Facebook.)
The periodic email report always includes at least one thing I find interesting. This morning it notes that the little station WBZQ in Huntington, about 20 miles southwest of Fort Wayne, has been sold. So what? Little stations change hands like used Chevys.
Because the price was 75,000 Bernanke-inflated dollars.
So what if it was just one step up from a coffee-pot operation, putting out 500 watts until sunset, then 13 after dark -- yes, only about twice what your old Cobra CB exhaled before you wired in the illegal linear amplifier?
Only a generation ago a station like that would have grossed maybe $100,000 a year. (For perspective, that amount of 1970 money would have bought you about 20 new Corvettes, loaded. )
The rule of thumb held that an AM radio station was worth about two times its gross revenue. Real estate was extra.
So comes the end of my denial. AM radio IS dead. Bury it beside the Yankee dollar.
---
(Blaine would be glad to put you on his mailing list, but I don't care to publish his email address. He's on Facebook.)
Apr 14, 2012
Et voila!
Oh, it's Brother Jimmy's turn to throw the bomb...
And while we're at it, why not flag the assault craft?
And while we're at it, why not flag the assault craft?
Flagging
Once upon a time an anal SCUBA diver criticized my diving flag because it was out of proportion. "To be official it has to be five by four by one." Five units wide, four high, one as the white-stripe dimension. I thanked him profusely, of course, though I somehow forgot to ask my wife (RIP) to resew it. Despite the omission I used it for many more years and somehow escaped being hamburgerized by an Evinrude. Just lucky, I guess.
I suppose this ancient memory comes because of a morning mood which demands that I do something frivolous. So I think I'll paint an anarcho-capitalist flag on the west end of the big propane tank. I know I have plenty of black rattle-can paint, and if there happens to be a can of yellow, it'll be a done deal shortly after the dew dries.
Unfortunately I don't know the official proportionals of the AnCap banner, so I'll welcome advice from anyone who does. In fact I solicit it. How could any friend of real liberty live with the notion that his flag fails to meet the legal standard?
I suppose this ancient memory comes because of a morning mood which demands that I do something frivolous. So I think I'll paint an anarcho-capitalist flag on the west end of the big propane tank. I know I have plenty of black rattle-can paint, and if there happens to be a can of yellow, it'll be a done deal shortly after the dew dries.
Unfortunately I don't know the official proportionals of the AnCap banner, so I'll welcome advice from anyone who does. In fact I solicit it. How could any friend of real liberty live with the notion that his flag fails to meet the legal standard?
Apr 13, 2012
Your papers! Quickly!
After a couple of months of technical problems, The World's Greatest Travel Blog is back with a summary of bureaucratic crap you need to deal with if you want to visit some far and exotic place --Toronto or Tijuana, for instance.
Apr 12, 2012
Adventures in consumer land
1. The ammunition shortage has boosted the price of Federal 550 packs of .22LR by a buck, to $19.97. Similarly cheap-skate, hundred-round, 12-gauge value packs are still $22.97, however. My Armageddon stash was already at the goal, but I bought a little of each on general principles.
2. Also at WalMart I discovered that Velcro is available in "MilSpec" camo. (Of course I didn't, and it is unkind of you to even ask.)
3. At the Government Motors dealership, a computerized spare key for the More Dependable Truck set me back a litlte over thirty dollars. I inquired as to the procedure for disabling the furshlugginner anti-theft system and was laughed at. To which I replied that it is a theft enabling system for GM dealers.
4. Appropos both vendors, the Velcro from WalMart was necessary because of a Government Motors design error. The MDT has a bench seat with a flip down console with a generous tray for holding junk. The tray has no cover, meaning when you flip it up all the crap falls generously to the floor behind the seat. (Good thinking, Mr. President.) The libertarian solution is an old clip board, painted to match the stylish black of the factory plastic, hinged with black Gorilla tape, held closed with Velcro dots.
It's nice to be back home.
2. Also at WalMart I discovered that Velcro is available in "MilSpec" camo. (Of course I didn't, and it is unkind of you to even ask.)
3. At the Government Motors dealership, a computerized spare key for the More Dependable Truck set me back a litlte over thirty dollars. I inquired as to the procedure for disabling the furshlugginner anti-theft system and was laughed at. To which I replied that it is a theft enabling system for GM dealers.
4. Appropos both vendors, the Velcro from WalMart was necessary because of a Government Motors design error. The MDT has a bench seat with a flip down console with a generous tray for holding junk. The tray has no cover, meaning when you flip it up all the crap falls generously to the floor behind the seat. (Good thinking, Mr. President.) The libertarian solution is an old clip board, painted to match the stylish black of the factory plastic, hinged with black Gorilla tape, held closed with Velcro dots.
It's nice to be back home.
Minnesota vice, Volume 2
A schedule conflict will keep me away from another big extra-Constitutional money grab by Minnesota's Finest. The perps here are the fish and game cops whose arms lockers overflow with hundreds of guns, along with bows and fishing gear.
They got them by accusing guys of breaking laws and confiscating their property prior to any criminal conviction. Citizens found not guilty can probably get their property returned if they're willing to spend the time and money necessary to jump through enough hoops.
I have no doubt they set aside the hot merchandise they'll find useful in their duties. The rest are sold to the highest bidder. I don't know which state government slush fund the money fattens, but it's probably a safe bet that the original MDNR confiscators get a nice cut to keep the line officers motivated.
If you care to be a party to this kind of thing on April 28, here's the dope.
And even if you won't aid and abet the civil forfeiture thugs, wouldn't that be a nice time and place for a good ol' libertarian rally? Some short and cogent speeches about the real RICO menace, the one fomented by governments who think a certain line from the Constitution, Amendment Five, is a quaint relic.
(No person shall) ... be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
---
My state's motto is, "Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain." We do the same damned thing.
They got them by accusing guys of breaking laws and confiscating their property prior to any criminal conviction. Citizens found not guilty can probably get their property returned if they're willing to spend the time and money necessary to jump through enough hoops.
I have no doubt they set aside the hot merchandise they'll find useful in their duties. The rest are sold to the highest bidder. I don't know which state government slush fund the money fattens, but it's probably a safe bet that the original MDNR confiscators get a nice cut to keep the line officers motivated.
If you care to be a party to this kind of thing on April 28, here's the dope.
And even if you won't aid and abet the civil forfeiture thugs, wouldn't that be a nice time and place for a good ol' libertarian rally? Some short and cogent speeches about the real RICO menace, the one fomented by governments who think a certain line from the Constitution, Amendment Five, is a quaint relic.
(No person shall) ... be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
---
My state's motto is, "Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain." We do the same damned thing.
Minnesota vice
Marko has a pretty definitive report on Moorhead, Minnesota, cops trying to rob a sore-footed waitress struggling to feed her five kids.
You'll recall the lady was given $12,000 by a mysterious customer who called it a tip and refused her effort to return it. She reported it to the cops who took her money and told her she could have it back in three months if no one claimed it. Three months passed and it suddenly became "drug" money which they would keep in their cop-toy fund. They offered her a $1,000 bribe to shut up, roll over, and play dead. She hired a lawyer instead, and the cops had an epiphany. Maybe it wasn't drug money after all, even though it drew sniffy interest from their Constitutional consultant Fido. They returned her money to her.
Which is probably the end of the story. But it should not be.
Somewhere in the Moorhead police bureaucracy is at least one command-level cop who decided he could get away with robbing this woman and gave it his best shot. The criminal offense that leaps to mind is attempted grand larceny, though I suppose it's a bad idea to hold our breath until we see Officer Swindly indicted.
You'll recall the lady was given $12,000 by a mysterious customer who called it a tip and refused her effort to return it. She reported it to the cops who took her money and told her she could have it back in three months if no one claimed it. Three months passed and it suddenly became "drug" money which they would keep in their cop-toy fund. They offered her a $1,000 bribe to shut up, roll over, and play dead. She hired a lawyer instead, and the cops had an epiphany. Maybe it wasn't drug money after all, even though it drew sniffy interest from their Constitutional consultant Fido. They returned her money to her.
Which is probably the end of the story. But it should not be.
Somewhere in the Moorhead police bureaucracy is at least one command-level cop who decided he could get away with robbing this woman and gave it his best shot. The criminal offense that leaps to mind is attempted grand larceny, though I suppose it's a bad idea to hold our breath until we see Officer Swindly indicted.
Apr 10, 2012
Thirty More Seconds Over Tokyo
Navy pilots in the age of Mach-Incredible to train on B-25s, Billy Mitchells.
And raising the old USS Hornet should not be beyond our 21st Century technological skills.
In a just world this would be a component of the US/Japanese dialog about the balance-of-payments situation. It may do little, but it can't hurt.
---
And if anyone dares call this wasteful government spending, I will hurt him with my petty officer cutlass.
---
(h/t to my man in the military-industrial complex.)
And raising the old USS Hornet should not be beyond our 21st Century technological skills.
In a just world this would be a component of the US/Japanese dialog about the balance-of-payments situation. It may do little, but it can't hurt.
---
And if anyone dares call this wasteful government spending, I will hurt him with my petty officer cutlass.
---
(h/t to my man in the military-industrial complex.)
The pregnant virgins of Arizona
It would no longer take a man, men. We are to be redundant. Pregnancy would occur when the Arizona legislature says it does.
(The bill to round pi to 3 remains stuck in committee.)
(The bill to round pi to 3 remains stuck in committee.)
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