Then a bacon cheesburger with center-cut prime rib on the side. For dessert bring me a large bratwurst with chili sauce.
The halls of academia say turning vegetarian is not all that healthy. Amazing.
"I was absolutely surprised," said Dr. Dena Bravata, a senior research affiliate at Stanford and long-time internist who began the analysis because so many of her patients asked if they should switch.
I'll bet the 99 per cent of us weren't very surprised. We've long suspected that letting a quadruped begin the process of converting alfalfa to protein is the most efficient way to go.
...and a Beefeater martini while we're wating please.
Sep 3, 2012
Facepalm, Hillary
Happy Hillary-Rodham is on the beach, half a world away from Washington, celebrating the latest triumph of United States diplomacy. To be precise, she pressured the government of the Cook Islands to come up with some big SUVs, ones grand enough for Her Secretary of Stateship.
The government owns three small SUVs. That always seemed to be plenty for its job of governing some 11,000 folks.
Hillary sniffed. Her attendance depended on big, impressive SUVs. Which she got.
If she were the kind of person who said "Thanks" her gratitude would be to a put-upon Cook Islands official named Robert Graham. For a heady time the fate of the Eastern Hemisphere rested on his shoulders. He reports:
"We are a really small island and they're wanting these really big SUVs," Graham said. "We have tried our best to accommodate and help."
It might or might not impress Mrs. Clinton that her regal transport is a gift of the private sector. The resourceful Mr. Graham scrambled to persuade a number of islanders to loan their oversize personal vehicles for the grand occasion.
A big white one fell to Her, guaranteeing Her comfort even if mischance forced her to completely circumnavigate the island of Roratonga -- a daunting trek of nearly 20 paved miles. I hope the people of the Cooks don't hate us, but if they do, I'll understand.
---
So what the heck is the Clinton woman doing in paradise anyway?
I'm glad you asked. She's representing you and me at a gathering of the Pacific Islands Forum. That's an organization of Pacific governments who get together once in a while to hash out watery issues.
Her presence is being spun as a crucial element in United States security in the western Pacific -- heading off the Yellow Peril. The Los Angeles Times sets the stage:
"The tiny South Pacific islands and atolls known as the Cook Islands have rarely been more than an afterthought to the world's great powers. Yet in their intensifying contest for influence in the Asian Pacific region, the United States and China are seeing new value in far-flung outposts that until now were coveted more for pearls and sunsets than geostrategic importance."
(Aside No.1: We all know of the "Bad Hemingway" contest. Is there one for "Bad Michener?")
(Aside No. 2: Rarotonga is some 5,000 miles from the Chinese mainland, and if you ask me that's an implausibly long way to fling a far.)
Fully granting that we need to keep an eye on China's jealous eye for oil treasures beyond her 200-mile exclusive economic zone, Hillary-in-Paradise hints at another purpose.
American wars in the Middle East have about outrun our gullibility for nation-building propaganda, so maybe our leaders are shifting targets in the War to Divert Our Attention from the Economy.
Maybe Hillary and His Ineptness are discovering that it is crucial to American security to develop a ring of U.S. client states from Pitcairn to the Yalu. Deploy a few divisions and a handful of carrier flotillas. Build some schools. Send over some Harvard PhD to advise on governing. If absolutely necessary, bomb a few wogs.
Nothing stops us except the cost, but, what the Hell, we can always borrow it. In this case, though, probably not from China.
The government owns three small SUVs. That always seemed to be plenty for its job of governing some 11,000 folks.
Hillary sniffed. Her attendance depended on big, impressive SUVs. Which she got.
If she were the kind of person who said "Thanks" her gratitude would be to a put-upon Cook Islands official named Robert Graham. For a heady time the fate of the Eastern Hemisphere rested on his shoulders. He reports:
"We are a really small island and they're wanting these really big SUVs," Graham said. "We have tried our best to accommodate and help."
It might or might not impress Mrs. Clinton that her regal transport is a gift of the private sector. The resourceful Mr. Graham scrambled to persuade a number of islanders to loan their oversize personal vehicles for the grand occasion.
A big white one fell to Her, guaranteeing Her comfort even if mischance forced her to completely circumnavigate the island of Roratonga -- a daunting trek of nearly 20 paved miles. I hope the people of the Cooks don't hate us, but if they do, I'll understand.
---
So what the heck is the Clinton woman doing in paradise anyway?
I'm glad you asked. She's representing you and me at a gathering of the Pacific Islands Forum. That's an organization of Pacific governments who get together once in a while to hash out watery issues.
Her presence is being spun as a crucial element in United States security in the western Pacific -- heading off the Yellow Peril. The Los Angeles Times sets the stage:
"The tiny South Pacific islands and atolls known as the Cook Islands have rarely been more than an afterthought to the world's great powers. Yet in their intensifying contest for influence in the Asian Pacific region, the United States and China are seeing new value in far-flung outposts that until now were coveted more for pearls and sunsets than geostrategic importance."
(Aside No.1: We all know of the "Bad Hemingway" contest. Is there one for "Bad Michener?")
(Aside No. 2: Rarotonga is some 5,000 miles from the Chinese mainland, and if you ask me that's an implausibly long way to fling a far.)
Fully granting that we need to keep an eye on China's jealous eye for oil treasures beyond her 200-mile exclusive economic zone, Hillary-in-Paradise hints at another purpose.
American wars in the Middle East have about outrun our gullibility for nation-building propaganda, so maybe our leaders are shifting targets in the War to Divert Our Attention from the Economy.
Maybe Hillary and His Ineptness are discovering that it is crucial to American security to develop a ring of U.S. client states from Pitcairn to the Yalu. Deploy a few divisions and a handful of carrier flotillas. Build some schools. Send over some Harvard PhD to advise on governing. If absolutely necessary, bomb a few wogs.
Nothing stops us except the cost, but, what the Hell, we can always borrow it. In this case, though, probably not from China.
Sep 1, 2012
Adventures at the ammo bench
The Remington 760 (couple-three posts down) inspired me to hit the loading room yesterday and wade into the fat supply of .30-06 cases. It took me more than two hours to finish a measly 61 rounds, and that was starting with cleaned and sized commercial brass.
Part of it was the Lee Auto-Prime. I love that system, but mine is showing its decades of wear and sometimes wants to malf in one way or another.
Primers set, I learned that my old Pacific powder measure hates DuPont 3031. I simply could not make it throw charges consistent within two or three grains. No amount of cleaning or tweaking helped enough to make me comfortable. (I've remarked before that I'm a frightened old lady about guesswork at the reloading bench.)
So I took the Lee dippers from the cabinet and found one that held 49.5 grains of 3031 -- close enough to the 50 I wanted under the 125-gr HPs. (Speer book muzzle velocity of about 2950 fps).
It's nice to build a round of good .30-06 for less than a quarter, but one-half round per minute on prepared cases is not something to be proud of. Time to pick up a new Auto-Prime and tear down the measure to see if something inside is the problem.
---
And there's a hole in my .308 bullet supply. Plenty of 110 and 125, and quite a lot of 220. I'm thus prepared for elf terrorists and elephant-scale terrorists. But I have nothing really correct for your normal, everyday, 38-regular terrorist.
It's nice to build a round of good .30-06 for less than a quarter, but one-half round per minute on prepared cases is not something to be proud of. Time to pick up a new Auto-Prime and tear down the measure to see if something inside is the problem.
---
And there's a hole in my .308 bullet supply. Plenty of 110 and 125, and quite a lot of 220. I'm thus prepared for elf terrorists and elephant-scale terrorists. But I have nothing really correct for your normal, everyday, 38-regular terrorist.
Girl porn. Money porn.
(1) One hundred years ago "September Morn" was finished and won an award from the critical Frogs of the Paris art industry. It was, however, considered no big deal, just another workmanlike oil by a guy who liked representational naked girl images against a sorta-impressionistic background. It might have sold for a few hundred francs, then spent time a bourgeoisie parlor until, eventually, an American tourist found it in a Left-Bank stall. He hung it in the rec room to surprise his wife, Prudence, who surprised him with "It goes or I go." That's why you, you aging roue, might have scored it for fifty bucks at a garage sale down the street.
It didn't happen that way because of Duh Mare. "September Morn" was sent to a Chicago art dealer who put it in his window. Mayor Carter Harrison Jr. hit the ceiling* and filed indecency charges against the dealer. The dealer won the case and "September Morn" won instant fame.
A little later it found its way to a New York art shop and shocked another public titter. You've heard of him, Anthony Comstock, over-seer of public morals as a special agent of the Post Office. He threatened legal action, but by this time he was in his 70s and forgot to follow through. His bluster added to the fame, and the Paul Chagas painting now lives in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I guess that means it isn't obscene.
(2) As this year's first September morn dawns, public titter and one one-per center Ben Bernanke is just back from beautiful Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I read that it was a very nice gnome convention, and all the world's central bankers joined in a happy group giggle as Ben told them he still had his tools but intended to keep them zipped in for a little while longer. But just a little. He winked and nudged that he was just letting the wine breathe for a bit, maybe until the next FOMC meeting. Then he would flop them out and boy won't we have a ball. All the other bankers there dialed up their brokers and doubled their stakes in green-ink manufacturers.
That's obscene.
---
There's a logical reason to consider the big banker meeting in the same small essay as "September Morn." Jackson Hole is in the Tetons.
*Speaking of roofs, supposing a modern Mayor Carter Jr. happens to be in the Sistine Chapel. Supposing he happens to glance upwards. What the Hell does he do. Arrest the Pope? Sue Michaleangelo's estate?
It didn't happen that way because of Duh Mare. "September Morn" was sent to a Chicago art dealer who put it in his window. Mayor Carter Harrison Jr. hit the ceiling* and filed indecency charges against the dealer. The dealer won the case and "September Morn" won instant fame.
A little later it found its way to a New York art shop and shocked another public titter. You've heard of him, Anthony Comstock, over-seer of public morals as a special agent of the Post Office. He threatened legal action, but by this time he was in his 70s and forgot to follow through. His bluster added to the fame, and the Paul Chagas painting now lives in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I guess that means it isn't obscene.
(2) As this year's first September morn dawns, public titter and one one-per center Ben Bernanke is just back from beautiful Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I read that it was a very nice gnome convention, and all the world's central bankers joined in a happy group giggle as Ben told them he still had his tools but intended to keep them zipped in for a little while longer. But just a little. He winked and nudged that he was just letting the wine breathe for a bit, maybe until the next FOMC meeting. Then he would flop them out and boy won't we have a ball. All the other bankers there dialed up their brokers and doubled their stakes in green-ink manufacturers.
That's obscene.
---
There's a logical reason to consider the big banker meeting in the same small essay as "September Morn." Jackson Hole is in the Tetons.
*Speaking of roofs, supposing a modern Mayor Carter Jr. happens to be in the Sistine Chapel. Supposing he happens to glance upwards. What the Hell does he do. Arrest the Pope? Sue Michaleangelo's estate?
Aug 30, 2012
Serendipity in .30-06
So whaddya do when you've had three magazines for a Remington 760 in .30-06 rattling around in the miscellaneous box for years? You haven't been able to locate a buyer of sufficient taste and discernment to own a 760 (or anything else in that action family) in a proper caliber. Or at least you can't find one anxious to acquire your mags at anything near a fair price.
You despair, of course. Unless you're of my cheerily optimistic persuasion. Then you wait for a fine1963 production model to pay an unexpected visit to your quarters. And wait. And wait. Years.
But eventually it happens, at least to those of us who lead clean lives, devoid of impure thoughts.
T' hee. I'm looking at it now. At a very fair price it is mine. MINE! Including the vintage Redfield 3x9 on that tank-like Redfield mount. And with enough clips* to handle 21 rampaging terrorists before having to fumble individually with any of these noble rounds.
(Pictures possible if and when I find the three-volt Cockroach by Canon.)
Among the beauties of the Second Amendment is this: Here in the Land of the Free, it is not forbidden to buy a rifle primarily because you already own a magazine or so for it. Bless the Founders.
Funny, it didn't start out to be a particularly good day.
---
*Oh hush. I'm just trying to temper tautology.
You despair, of course. Unless you're of my cheerily optimistic persuasion. Then you wait for a fine1963 production model to pay an unexpected visit to your quarters. And wait. And wait. Years.
But eventually it happens, at least to those of us who lead clean lives, devoid of impure thoughts.
T' hee. I'm looking at it now. At a very fair price it is mine. MINE! Including the vintage Redfield 3x9 on that tank-like Redfield mount. And with enough clips* to handle 21 rampaging terrorists before having to fumble individually with any of these noble rounds.
(Pictures possible if and when I find the three-volt Cockroach by Canon.)
Among the beauties of the Second Amendment is this: Here in the Land of the Free, it is not forbidden to buy a rifle primarily because you already own a magazine or so for it. Bless the Founders.
Funny, it didn't start out to be a particularly good day.
---
*Oh hush. I'm just trying to temper tautology.
Sometimes Officer Friendly really is
The teevee reporter seems to have the lede right. Without much fuss, Indianapolis cop Jeff Patterson talked down a "special needs" student who had locked himself in a home ec room full of knives. When he threw one at the officer, Jeff grabbed a garbage can lid to shield himself as he persuaded the lad to surrender. No gunfire. No Taser. Just a cop with no yen to shoot somebody, a lone policeman thinking fast under pressure.
Two problems in the report. One may seem a quibble, but it is important enough to note. The journalist wrote that the lad surrendered before the officer "could" taze him. In fact, it appears Jeff handled things so that the surrender happened for he "needed" to shoot.
The other is a journalistic sin of omission. Where is the outrage at the presence of sharp knives in a school? A school, for God's sake. Where there are children. Maybe they'll get around to it. Dare you doubt that someone, somewhere, is jotting down a plan to turn the french knives over to the proper authorities and teach the budding cooks to do their cutting with dental floss and blunt scissors?
H/T Roberta
---
Does anyone else hold a memory of sword fights in the back yard? The well-equipped 7-year-old Lancelot wielded a pine Excalibur, a long lath for the blade and a shorter one, nailed on, for the cross guard. Universally, his shield was zinc-plated sheet metal from Mom's outside garbage can. It made a neat noise when struck by your foe's sword, even neater when the blackguard cheated by throwing rocks.
Two problems in the report. One may seem a quibble, but it is important enough to note. The journalist wrote that the lad surrendered before the officer "could" taze him. In fact, it appears Jeff handled things so that the surrender happened for he "needed" to shoot.
The other is a journalistic sin of omission. Where is the outrage at the presence of sharp knives in a school? A school, for God's sake. Where there are children. Maybe they'll get around to it. Dare you doubt that someone, somewhere, is jotting down a plan to turn the french knives over to the proper authorities and teach the budding cooks to do their cutting with dental floss and blunt scissors?
H/T Roberta
---
Does anyone else hold a memory of sword fights in the back yard? The well-equipped 7-year-old Lancelot wielded a pine Excalibur, a long lath for the blade and a shorter one, nailed on, for the cross guard. Universally, his shield was zinc-plated sheet metal from Mom's outside garbage can. It made a neat noise when struck by your foe's sword, even neater when the blackguard cheated by throwing rocks.
Aug 29, 2012
Pornographic gun prices
The only explanation I have is that Ben and the Feds announced QE 3 and QE 4 and QE5 yesterday and everybody heard about it except me. Am I supposed to go trade my green money for orange today?
The chief pleasure down in Spencer last evening was making a guy I dislike pay close to $300 for a fair-to-good 10 gauge Remington 1889, Grade 1. It was tight and original, but the left hammer wouldn't cock, and I hate getting into the innards of old doubles. Otherwise I'd have laid it in against my next trip west, into serious Cowboy Action Shooting country where it would be desirable trading stock if working.
Otherwise: The rattiest old Stevens single shot .22 bolt gun you ever saw for $100. A Ruger 10-22 of no distinction for $290. One of those rattletrap Rohm .22 single-sixes for about $230. A post-64 Model 94 Winchester for $490. ('course that included the rubber slip-on recoil pad. Who's that frail?) And so forth.
The standout, though, was a Findy Sickle Iver Johnson .32 rimfire breaktop, nice, bright silver thanks to a soaking in naval jelly and enthusiastic wire brushing. Bubba didn't bother to dissemble it first. Not a part would move. One hundred bucks.
---
I settled for some shooty or otherwise lethal bric-a-brac -- a little ammunition and a nicely preserved Western 4 1/2-inch hunter from the '40s.
The chief pleasure down in Spencer last evening was making a guy I dislike pay close to $300 for a fair-to-good 10 gauge Remington 1889, Grade 1. It was tight and original, but the left hammer wouldn't cock, and I hate getting into the innards of old doubles. Otherwise I'd have laid it in against my next trip west, into serious Cowboy Action Shooting country where it would be desirable trading stock if working.
Otherwise: The rattiest old Stevens single shot .22 bolt gun you ever saw for $100. A Ruger 10-22 of no distinction for $290. One of those rattletrap Rohm .22 single-sixes for about $230. A post-64 Model 94 Winchester for $490. ('course that included the rubber slip-on recoil pad. Who's that frail?) And so forth.
The standout, though, was a Findy Sickle Iver Johnson .32 rimfire breaktop, nice, bright silver thanks to a soaking in naval jelly and enthusiastic wire brushing. Bubba didn't bother to dissemble it first. Not a part would move. One hundred bucks.
---
I settled for some shooty or otherwise lethal bric-a-brac -- a little ammunition and a nicely preserved Western 4 1/2-inch hunter from the '40s.
Aug 28, 2012
Next year in Sag Harbor
As a matter of principle, libertarians should rally around Karen Heaven's right to let gravity work its will.
As a matter of good taste, this libertarian sought high and low to find just the right citation. That's why the carefully chosen site, above, contains no pictures of Karen and Karen's friends frolicking for the right to bare this and that, left and right, for camera clickers in a New York park. (As always, TMR refuses to air any material likely to corrupt children or the clergy.)
This extends all the way to resisting the misdemeanor known as "smirking with intent to pun," and I trust you, gentle reader, to note and applaud the absence of low-hanging fruit here -- even the delightful "titivate."
Thank you.
The Seven-Year Snark
You can slip over to Tam's place and wish her a happy 7th anniversary of View from the Porch. That's a long time to be funny every day, especially to induce grins before 8 a.m.
Aug 27, 2012
Tiffany Tanks
I see by the news Tiffany profits sank last quarter and the lamp-shade company isn't too optimistic about this one.
I can explain part of it. Ann hasn't been shopping too much lately, busy as she is on the campaign trail trying to make Mitt look common enough to get a few WalMart voters. Same with Michelle 'cept her job is to help make His Ineptness look competent.
I would like to stay and analyze this for you some more, but my breakfast date just walked in.
I can explain part of it. Ann hasn't been shopping too much lately, busy as she is on the campaign trail trying to make Mitt look common enough to get a few WalMart voters. Same with Michelle 'cept her job is to help make His Ineptness look competent.
I would like to stay and analyze this for you some more, but my breakfast date just walked in.
Aug 25, 2012
Now hear this!
Beautiful rain -- enough to make a difference and enough to set me to small indoor chores. One of them was to replace batteries and clean up my work horse USN battle lantern, a mate to the one on the right.
It has become a semi-collectible, but mine is a user, most often employed for spotting New Dog Libby when she wanders a little too far on her midnight pee excursions.
The left three are WW2 models, gross and complicated things designed by BuShips in accord with its old motto: "Damn it, put in some more parts!" These oldies had oddball batteries, and maybe bulbs, available only through the federal bureaucracy. They had a cable and mechanical relay system to switch them on when ship's power failed. Surprisingly, they sometimes worked, though if you needed to carry one around you had to perform a little dance of disconnecting the power cable and twisting it out of its bracket.
The models like mine came along after I'd retired my sea boots, in the 60s. They're built of brutish plastic and use off-the-shelf lantern batteries (two 6-volters) and sealed-beam bulbs. Battery life is extraordinary. This replacement was the first one in years of intermittent use.
Excuse me. I'm getting a somewhat gushy here over a freekin' flashlight. That's probably because I just did a small Wikiwander on Navy battle lanterns and found that good men have all but dedicated their lives to the subject.
The entire project -- a should-read for retrogeeks -- is here. Click the arrow for the slide show.
Then maybe you'll want to go see the big picture -- where the refurbished lanterns go -- on damndest ship restoration project you ever saw.
USS Slater was a DE, destroyer escort, newer than Queeg's Caine but still a toy boat on a real ocean. And for one man's perspective on going to sea in one, consider:
My Gearing class destroyer hung around with cruisers and aircraft carriers, big ships. The crews would fraternize in Oriental dives on WestPac deployment. We always took the usual shots at one another's ship assignments, bullshit stuff but good for easing tensions.
As, Them to Us: "How to you wind up the rubber band on your bath tub toy?" And Us to Them: "You clowns really get sea pay for living on that building?" Etc. Just very young men releasing testosterone at a low, banal, and friendly level.
But, then, often enough, the SunTory (not bad, about like Jim Beam) would give us the comradely maudlins. Big ship guys would salute tin-can riders. They would, they avowed, desert to the Commies rather than face the risk of destroyer life.
Now that I've told you all about that, one point remains: My tiny little destroyer weighed about 2200 tons. The USS Slater, DE, displaced about 1200 tons. And she sailed the same damned ocean though the same damned weather.
And that is why you see me facing Albany with a snappy salute to the guys restoring her -- and to the probably long-gone counterpart of yours truly who sailed her a generation earlier. Sir, by the numbers, you're about twice the man I am.
---
Gee, that's a lot to excrete from putting new batteries in a flash light. But, as I said, it's raining. Nothing good on the electric teevee, either.
It has become a semi-collectible, but mine is a user, most often employed for spotting New Dog Libby when she wanders a little too far on her midnight pee excursions.
The left three are WW2 models, gross and complicated things designed by BuShips in accord with its old motto: "Damn it, put in some more parts!" These oldies had oddball batteries, and maybe bulbs, available only through the federal bureaucracy. They had a cable and mechanical relay system to switch them on when ship's power failed. Surprisingly, they sometimes worked, though if you needed to carry one around you had to perform a little dance of disconnecting the power cable and twisting it out of its bracket.
The models like mine came along after I'd retired my sea boots, in the 60s. They're built of brutish plastic and use off-the-shelf lantern batteries (two 6-volters) and sealed-beam bulbs. Battery life is extraordinary. This replacement was the first one in years of intermittent use.
Excuse me. I'm getting a somewhat gushy here over a freekin' flashlight. That's probably because I just did a small Wikiwander on Navy battle lanterns and found that good men have all but dedicated their lives to the subject.
The entire project -- a should-read for retrogeeks -- is here. Click the arrow for the slide show.
Then maybe you'll want to go see the big picture -- where the refurbished lanterns go -- on damndest ship restoration project you ever saw.
USS Slater was a DE, destroyer escort, newer than Queeg's Caine but still a toy boat on a real ocean. And for one man's perspective on going to sea in one, consider:
My Gearing class destroyer hung around with cruisers and aircraft carriers, big ships. The crews would fraternize in Oriental dives on WestPac deployment. We always took the usual shots at one another's ship assignments, bullshit stuff but good for easing tensions.
As, Them to Us: "How to you wind up the rubber band on your bath tub toy?" And Us to Them: "You clowns really get sea pay for living on that building?" Etc. Just very young men releasing testosterone at a low, banal, and friendly level.
But, then, often enough, the SunTory (not bad, about like Jim Beam) would give us the comradely maudlins. Big ship guys would salute tin-can riders. They would, they avowed, desert to the Commies rather than face the risk of destroyer life.
Now that I've told you all about that, one point remains: My tiny little destroyer weighed about 2200 tons. The USS Slater, DE, displaced about 1200 tons. And she sailed the same damned ocean though the same damned weather.
And that is why you see me facing Albany with a snappy salute to the guys restoring her -- and to the probably long-gone counterpart of yours truly who sailed her a generation earlier. Sir, by the numbers, you're about twice the man I am.
---
Gee, that's a lot to excrete from putting new batteries in a flash light. But, as I said, it's raining. Nothing good on the electric teevee, either.
Aug 24, 2012
You mean "pull the pin?"
I'm not going to post the site, just the headline covering a Wall Street Journal video.
"Fed Could Pull the Trigger to Save Economy Wednesday."
There isn't enough Prozac to make me feel better about that. It means the Fed will admit to upping it order for green ink and paper.
I'll post this one, though. Stock traders made long bets this afternoon when Ben told some congresscritters he "has the tools" to masturbate stimulate the banks, meaning he's probably getting ready to use them.
It gets a little worse when Bernanke and the Gnomes of Everywhere get together again in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The Eurognome is Mario Draghi who bosses the European Central Bank. Mario wants to chat with Ben about:
...yield-band targets under a new bond-buying program to let it shield its strategy and avoid speculators trying to cash in, central bank sources told Reuters on Friday.
And that means keeping interest rate plans secret from everyone except guys like Bank America, Chase, Wells Fargo, etc. They'll probably also let your legislators in on the gag, too. Just not guys like you and me -- y'know, speculators trying earn an obscene two or three per cent on their savings.
"Fed Could Pull the Trigger to Save Economy Wednesday."
There isn't enough Prozac to make me feel better about that. It means the Fed will admit to upping it order for green ink and paper.
I'll post this one, though. Stock traders made long bets this afternoon when Ben told some congresscritters he "has the tools" to
It gets a little worse when Bernanke and the Gnomes of Everywhere get together again in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The Eurognome is Mario Draghi who bosses the European Central Bank. Mario wants to chat with Ben about:
...yield-band targets under a new bond-buying program to let it shield its strategy and avoid speculators trying to cash in, central bank sources told Reuters on Friday.
And that means keeping interest rate plans secret from everyone except guys like Bank America, Chase, Wells Fargo, etc. They'll probably also let your legislators in on the gag, too. Just not guys like you and me -- y'know, speculators trying earn an obscene two or three per cent on their savings.
Aug 23, 2012
Sort of a Roy Bean with an M4gery?
They still elect "county judges" down in Texas, though I gather from Wiki they pass their time more in general-purpose bureaucracy than in judging. To this Yankee eye they seem something like a super-commissioner of a county with the added authority to marry folks up and declare war on the United Nations.
One of them in Lubbock County is awful worried about His Ineptness getting re-elected and handing America over to Ban-Ki-moon (a foreigner), so he nailed some air time on a local Fox teevee station to warn folks to vote Republican. But, if that doesn't work, to rest easy anyhow because Judge Tom Head and the sherf will be at the ramparts.
As he* sees things, it's either a Romney victory or:
I'm thinking the worst. Civil unrest, civil disobedience, civil war maybe. And we're not just talking a few riots here and demonstrations, we're talking Lexington, Concord, take up arms and get rid of the guy. Now what's going to happen if we do that, if the public decides to do that? He's going to send in U.N. troops.
Gee, there's a lot of Bilderburg there, and, by the way, you do know that the Illuminati abuse little boys in the Bohemian Grove, don't you?
"I don't want 'em in Lubbock County. OK. So I'm going to stand in front of their armored personnel carrier and say 'you're not coming in here'."
I worry about that image, Judge. It sounds quite a bit like that fracas in Tienanmen Square back in '89. It may have slipped your mind that the guy who faced the tank was another one of them foreigners.
"And the sheriff, I've already asked him, I said 'you gonna back me' he said, 'yeah, I'll back you'. Well, I don't want a bunch of rookies back there. I want trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."
And here we get to the proximate cause of Judge Head's high-temperature rhetoric. He wants a tax increase -- 1.7 per cent -- to hire more "trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."
Judge Tom Head, the Audie Murphy of the Staked Plains.
---
it is unpleasant to make fun of guys like this. I think they're underdeveloped souls, sometimes "well-meaning," but usually befuddled by the complexities of human organization and seeking clarity through conspiracy theories while burdened with personal fantasies of leading a heroic resistance.
The judge speaks small pieces of a certain truth. The Obama crowd probably does cherish sweet dreams of one world; all lesser life forms such as you and me carefully regulated by Platonic Men of Gold, themselves.
Who doubts that their dreams remain just that because they understand that we peons will forbid it, politically for as long as remotely possible, then and only then -- in extremis -- and may it be delayed a thousand years ---directly. One trouble with armed insurrections is that they tend to blow up a lot of cute three-year-old kids.
---
*This fellow is undoubtedly an aberrant. I've known quite a lot of Texans (nice people) and even Texas politicians. Taken as a whole, they're no crazier than anyone else, although they do seem to put zippitydoodahs in public office at a slightly higher-than-average rate. That Richardson woman. That Dick Perry. Or maybe not. Even here in an exemplary state we have to answer for the Tom-Toms. Harkin. Vilsack. Sorry.
One of them in Lubbock County is awful worried about His Ineptness getting re-elected and handing America over to Ban-Ki-moon (a foreigner), so he nailed some air time on a local Fox teevee station to warn folks to vote Republican. But, if that doesn't work, to rest easy anyhow because Judge Tom Head and the sherf will be at the ramparts.
As he* sees things, it's either a Romney victory or:
I'm thinking the worst. Civil unrest, civil disobedience, civil war maybe. And we're not just talking a few riots here and demonstrations, we're talking Lexington, Concord, take up arms and get rid of the guy. Now what's going to happen if we do that, if the public decides to do that? He's going to send in U.N. troops.
Gee, there's a lot of Bilderburg there, and, by the way, you do know that the Illuminati abuse little boys in the Bohemian Grove, don't you?
"I don't want 'em in Lubbock County. OK. So I'm going to stand in front of their armored personnel carrier and say 'you're not coming in here'."
I worry about that image, Judge. It sounds quite a bit like that fracas in Tienanmen Square back in '89. It may have slipped your mind that the guy who faced the tank was another one of them foreigners.
"And the sheriff, I've already asked him, I said 'you gonna back me' he said, 'yeah, I'll back you'. Well, I don't want a bunch of rookies back there. I want trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."
And here we get to the proximate cause of Judge Head's high-temperature rhetoric. He wants a tax increase -- 1.7 per cent -- to hire more "trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."
Judge Tom Head, the Audie Murphy of the Staked Plains.
---
it is unpleasant to make fun of guys like this. I think they're underdeveloped souls, sometimes "well-meaning," but usually befuddled by the complexities of human organization and seeking clarity through conspiracy theories while burdened with personal fantasies of leading a heroic resistance.
The judge speaks small pieces of a certain truth. The Obama crowd probably does cherish sweet dreams of one world; all lesser life forms such as you and me carefully regulated by Platonic Men of Gold, themselves.
Who doubts that their dreams remain just that because they understand that we peons will forbid it, politically for as long as remotely possible, then and only then -- in extremis -- and may it be delayed a thousand years ---directly. One trouble with armed insurrections is that they tend to blow up a lot of cute three-year-old kids.
---
*This fellow is undoubtedly an aberrant. I've known quite a lot of Texans (nice people) and even Texas politicians. Taken as a whole, they're no crazier than anyone else, although they do seem to put zippitydoodahs in public office at a slightly higher-than-average rate. That Richardson woman. That Dick Perry. Or maybe not. Even here in an exemplary state we have to answer for the Tom-Toms. Harkin. Vilsack. Sorry.
Aug 22, 2012
I told you God hates Republicans
From the AP's Ten things you should know today:"
5. TROPICAL STORM ISAAC HAS REPUBLICANS WORRIED
After hitting hurricane strength it could target Tampa, right when the GOP holds its convention there.
---
History repeats. I was with a delegation to the '08 convention in St. Paul. About the first day a hurricane threatened some place on the Gulf, and as a matter ofsincere moral concern good PR we suspended "business" for a day or so. *
A handful of my fellow delegates and I spent the off day capitalizing on the hospitality of lobbyists, and I think this was the time I managed to scarf up about two hundred bucks worth of sushi paid for by the teachers' union. The sacrifices a guy makes for his country.
---
*This is slightly misleading. Little if any business is done at national political conventions. It's more accurate to think of them as made-for-teevee movies. Any and all of them could be appropriately titled "Pandering with Pep."
5. TROPICAL STORM ISAAC HAS REPUBLICANS WORRIED
After hitting hurricane strength it could target Tampa, right when the GOP holds its convention there.
---
History repeats. I was with a delegation to the '08 convention in St. Paul. About the first day a hurricane threatened some place on the Gulf, and as a matter of
A handful of my fellow delegates and I spent the off day capitalizing on the hospitality of lobbyists, and I think this was the time I managed to scarf up about two hundred bucks worth of sushi paid for by the teachers' union. The sacrifices a guy makes for his country.
---
*This is slightly misleading. Little if any business is done at national political conventions. It's more accurate to think of them as made-for-teevee movies. Any and all of them could be appropriately titled "Pandering with Pep."
Like The Rolling Stones
I try not to miss Brandon's stories in the local weekly. He always treats me to a novel view of the English language. This week he gushes about the remodeling of an old WPA project, a shelter house made of a concrete slab piled high with granite boulder walls.
"It's been in the works for over five years and finally, renovations to one of the most dynamic shelters in Dickinson County is complete..."
Tectonic movement aside, where's it going, Brandon?
"It's been in the works for over five years and finally, renovations to one of the most dynamic shelters in Dickinson County is complete..."
Tectonic movement aside, where's it going, Brandon?
Aug 20, 2012
Hi! I'm yo Fuller Rush Man
The cops have three of them in jail over in Estherville. They're accused of drug offenses, and I can only wonder again why there is no statute making criminal stupidity a felony all by itself.
A bunch of guys from around Portland, Oregon, blew into the quiet little county seat, checked into some cheap rooms and fanned out to sell drugs door-to-door. Let me repeat that. Door-to-door. How surprised could they have been when some folks called the law?
To add a little more bizarre:
"The investigation resulted in authorities obtaining two search warrants for rooms at the Super 8 Motel in Estherville. However, authorities believe some of the suspects got away after being told door-to-door sales require a permit."
I see. The perps were comfortable selling pot and heroin to the lady of the house. But they panicked and lammed after learning that their enterprise needed the same city permit required of Hoover vacuum hustlers.
A bunch of guys from around Portland, Oregon, blew into the quiet little county seat, checked into some cheap rooms and fanned out to sell drugs door-to-door. Let me repeat that. Door-to-door. How surprised could they have been when some folks called the law?
To add a little more bizarre:
"The investigation resulted in authorities obtaining two search warrants for rooms at the Super 8 Motel in Estherville. However, authorities believe some of the suspects got away after being told door-to-door sales require a permit."
I see. The perps were comfortable selling pot and heroin to the lady of the house. But they panicked and lammed after learning that their enterprise needed the same city permit required of Hoover vacuum hustlers.
Gearing up
I've never even handled a Commie rifle. While there are tragedies in my life, this is not one of them. The freer markets of the world have produced all the firearms a guy could ever need or even want. On the other hand, Dunham's Sports down Spencer way is overstocked on 91/30s and peddling them at $99.99 (a $30 savings!)
What an ugly rifle. Only the Brits (for sure) and the French (possibly )could have offended the eye so grotesquely. Still, it seemed to do its work adequately for all ranks and brilliantly in correct hands like those of White Death Simo (who used a variant). It's hard to argue with the one-man-and-a-rifle combination which dispatched invading Communists at the rate of 5.05 per day that cold winter when the main contestants (Nazis vs. Brits and Frogs) mostly contented themselves by making ominous honking noises at one another.
I have only a reading knowledge of the 7.62/54R, but I'm prepared to accept that it works like a .308 Winchester or, with finiken loadings, the .30-06. The accuracy reports are all over the place, and I suspect getting a natural tack driver involves a bit of luck.
So, if I can bestir myself to make the trip, I'll look down bores, rattle actions, and try to get the Lady on my side. Then I would have to look hard at the possibilities of stripping away the ugly; a better stock for sure, and maybe it's possible to grind off that magazine box to create an elegant single. Find proper cover, then go to work. One shot, one zombie, executed with great style.
---
This is a mere velliety. and the odds of adding Boris to my stock of atavistic bolt actions are less than 50-50. They would be lower yet except that there is a Goodwill store right close to Dunham's, and with the next equinox just a month away, it's time to round out my fall fashion ensemble.
What an ugly rifle. Only the Brits (for sure) and the French (possibly )could have offended the eye so grotesquely. Still, it seemed to do its work adequately for all ranks and brilliantly in correct hands like those of White Death Simo (who used a variant). It's hard to argue with the one-man-and-a-rifle combination which dispatched invading Communists at the rate of 5.05 per day that cold winter when the main contestants (Nazis vs. Brits and Frogs) mostly contented themselves by making ominous honking noises at one another.
I have only a reading knowledge of the 7.62/54R, but I'm prepared to accept that it works like a .308 Winchester or, with finiken loadings, the .30-06. The accuracy reports are all over the place, and I suspect getting a natural tack driver involves a bit of luck.
So, if I can bestir myself to make the trip, I'll look down bores, rattle actions, and try to get the Lady on my side. Then I would have to look hard at the possibilities of stripping away the ugly; a better stock for sure, and maybe it's possible to grind off that magazine box to create an elegant single. Find proper cover, then go to work. One shot, one zombie, executed with great style.
---
This is a mere velliety. and the odds of adding Boris to my stock of atavistic bolt actions are less than 50-50. They would be lower yet except that there is a Goodwill store right close to Dunham's, and with the next equinox just a month away, it's time to round out my fall fashion ensemble.
Aug 18, 2012
Calling Chris Hayes
Report to surgery for tongue adjustments. Or brain modification. Possibly both.
Chris was blatting about the real importance of Assange and Wikileaks a moment ago and referred to the National Security Act and the Patriot Act."
He then said there a quite distance between "the principle and the abstract."
Aug 16, 2012
Burl Osborne, a pal
Burl and I worked together when he was still an Associated Press grunt. He went on to larger things. He died in Dallas yesterday, age 75. RIP.
Partly cloudy with a chance of Armageddon
It's understandable that the National Weather Service could desire a ready stock of .40 SW hollow points. It's to protect forecast flunkies from irate citizens who have had it right up to here with their lies. Like me last evening.
The local forecast gave me only the slimmest chance of living to see the sun rise. The least I could expect ahead of the cold front was a flurry of wind-born Peterbilts and a flood making the living room attractive to large fish. There was even the possibility of "tornadic activity."
Naturally I took the precaution of laying in dry firewood, doublechecking the supply of rice, beans, and candles. Then I rearranged the vehicles. The more dependable truck with its uninsured Texsun camper was moved to a a treeless area, as was a guest's Outback. (I parked the aging but well-insured minivan under the largest dead branch on the place. Just in hopes, y'know.)
NWS zero-hour approached. Nothing ominous apparent to the naked eye. Check the radar. Zilch, save for a ground return of the kind you expect when the transceiver is overtuned during a period of rapidly evaporating dew. The accompanying NWS text said errrr on second thought the storms would not be severe. In fact they tuned out not to be storms at all. Not a drop of water. Not a hail stone. The fallen leaves weren't even rearranged. Made me want to shoot the b*****ds for scaring me and putting me to all the unnecessary work. As a fair-minded man, however, I would recognize right of the false prophets to shoot back, and that's why I didn't get all wookie upon learning of the NWS ammo purchase.
---
Of course, it turned out to be a mistake, if you can believe mommie.guv. The hollow-point .40s were really for NOAA fish and game cops. (WTF?).
Still, you might want to check the cite above for some perspective on who in your government is stockpiling man-killer ammunition by the millions. Not that the perspective is necessarily the product of serious minds. As in:
"The DHS is also planning to purchase a further 750 million rounds of different types of ammo in a separate solicitation that also expires on August 20, including 357 mag rounds that are able to penetrate walls. "
To folks of a certain age this will bring a nostalgic smile. We remember when it was gospel that a .357 would penetrate an engine block and retain enough power to take out three or four public enemies (usually Italians in Chicago) if you lined them up.
Still, the 750 million DHS rounds, plus another 350 million of those ubiquitous .40 hollow points ("illegal for warfare since 1899") in the hands of a domestic non-military agency makes a fellow wonder. Doesn't that amount to about three rounds for every man, woman, and child in the United States? Not even counting ammo for the regular cops and the federal Department of Education's Remington 870 riot guns.
Sometimes it's hard to figure out just who the enemy is.
The local forecast gave me only the slimmest chance of living to see the sun rise. The least I could expect ahead of the cold front was a flurry of wind-born Peterbilts and a flood making the living room attractive to large fish. There was even the possibility of "tornadic activity."
Naturally I took the precaution of laying in dry firewood, doublechecking the supply of rice, beans, and candles. Then I rearranged the vehicles. The more dependable truck with its uninsured Texsun camper was moved to a a treeless area, as was a guest's Outback. (I parked the aging but well-insured minivan under the largest dead branch on the place. Just in hopes, y'know.)
NWS zero-hour approached. Nothing ominous apparent to the naked eye. Check the radar. Zilch, save for a ground return of the kind you expect when the transceiver is overtuned during a period of rapidly evaporating dew. The accompanying NWS text said errrr on second thought the storms would not be severe. In fact they tuned out not to be storms at all. Not a drop of water. Not a hail stone. The fallen leaves weren't even rearranged. Made me want to shoot the b*****ds for scaring me and putting me to all the unnecessary work. As a fair-minded man, however, I would recognize right of the false prophets to shoot back, and that's why I didn't get all wookie upon learning of the NWS ammo purchase.
---
Of course, it turned out to be a mistake, if you can believe mommie.guv. The hollow-point .40s were really for NOAA fish and game cops. (WTF?).
Still, you might want to check the cite above for some perspective on who in your government is stockpiling man-killer ammunition by the millions. Not that the perspective is necessarily the product of serious minds. As in:
"The DHS is also planning to purchase a further 750 million rounds of different types of ammo in a separate solicitation that also expires on August 20, including 357 mag rounds that are able to penetrate walls. "
To folks of a certain age this will bring a nostalgic smile. We remember when it was gospel that a .357 would penetrate an engine block and retain enough power to take out three or four public enemies (usually Italians in Chicago) if you lined them up.
Still, the 750 million DHS rounds, plus another 350 million of those ubiquitous .40 hollow points ("illegal for warfare since 1899") in the hands of a domestic non-military agency makes a fellow wonder. Doesn't that amount to about three rounds for every man, woman, and child in the United States? Not even counting ammo for the regular cops and the federal Department of Education's Remington 870 riot guns.
Sometimes it's hard to figure out just who the enemy is.
Aug 15, 2012
Win a war, kiss a nurse
Happy V-J Day. This is one of them as denoted by Japanese time. Or it is about three weeks from now if you insist on marking it by the USS Missouri ceremonies.
It was yesterday, our time, and Times Square was the place to be. We're lucky Alfred Eisenstaedt was there.
The Navy gets the gravy...
It was yesterday, our time, and Times Square was the place to be. We're lucky Alfred Eisenstaedt was there.
The Navy gets the gravy...
We're still being dragged through the blood by the Brady folks and others who make a living by agitating to disarm us. None of us is surprised that this bout of hysteria is a little more intense and protracted than usual. The Colorado and Wisconsin killings were close in time, and if the anti-self-defense statists welcome one gory rally point, they find two exhilarating.
This comes to mind this morning because a blogroll friend -- Guffaw, I just t remembered -- recently wrote that firearms deaths are statistically not terribly significant in the United States. That was in the back of my mind as I read a local report on the dangers of hydrocodone. It said 40 Americans die every day from abuse of FDA approved dope.
That number agrees with the Wiki report of just under 15,000 annual presrciption pain-killer fatalities.
Homicides committed with firearms? Fewer than 13,000.
Somebody mention this to Al Sharpton, just in case he ever decides he wants to get his priorities in some sort of logical order.
This comes to mind this morning because a blogroll friend -- Guffaw, I just t remembered -- recently wrote that firearms deaths are statistically not terribly significant in the United States. That was in the back of my mind as I read a local report on the dangers of hydrocodone. It said 40 Americans die every day from abuse of FDA approved dope.
That number agrees with the Wiki report of just under 15,000 annual presrciption pain-killer fatalities.
Homicides committed with firearms? Fewer than 13,000.
Somebody mention this to Al Sharpton, just in case he ever decides he wants to get his priorities in some sort of logical order.
Aug 14, 2012
The feds weigh in on another crisis. (It's for the children.)
I'll bet you didn't know that your federal government is on guard against the vast peril of backpack disease.
"A federal study found backpack-related injuries among children and teens have risen 41% in the past five years. The study says more than 14,000 people between the ages of 5 and 19 were treated for backpack injuries nationwide last year. The total cost for those injuries was nearly $29-million."
That works out to f $2071.43 per overburdened kiddie, although the number might require adjustment for armed and uniformed 18- and 19-year-old children huffing and puffing under a hundred pounds or so of rifle, ammo, and MOLLE gear, etc. -- courtesy of that self-same federal government.
The reporter even found a local and highly concerned "back-pain expert" -- a chiropractor, and stop that giggling -- to advise parents not to put a high-school capacity back pack on their pre-schooler. Thank you Doctor. We never would have thought of that.
Dr. Crunch warned that no child should carry more than 10 per cent of his or her body weight. If he proposed that Washington enact such a law and form a new corps of backpack police, the reporter missed it. But would you really be surprised?
Besides, I question whether the problem is widespread. My observations lead me to believe that the vast majority of tykes carry nothing heavier than Mom's Visa card.
"A federal study found backpack-related injuries among children and teens have risen 41% in the past five years. The study says more than 14,000 people between the ages of 5 and 19 were treated for backpack injuries nationwide last year. The total cost for those injuries was nearly $29-million."
That works out to f $2071.43 per overburdened kiddie, although the number might require adjustment for armed and uniformed 18- and 19-year-old children huffing and puffing under a hundred pounds or so of rifle, ammo, and MOLLE gear, etc. -- courtesy of that self-same federal government.
The reporter even found a local and highly concerned "back-pain expert" -- a chiropractor, and stop that giggling -- to advise parents not to put a high-school capacity back pack on their pre-schooler. Thank you Doctor. We never would have thought of that.
Dr. Crunch warned that no child should carry more than 10 per cent of his or her body weight. If he proposed that Washington enact such a law and form a new corps of backpack police, the reporter missed it. But would you really be surprised?
Besides, I question whether the problem is widespread. My observations lead me to believe that the vast majority of tykes carry nothing heavier than Mom's Visa card.
Aug 13, 2012
Gasp. Maybe he even had nail clippers.
*Here's one for you to think about next time you're standing barefoot in the airport with a TSA perv groping around between your legs.
While the feds and the airports are getting pretty good at thwarting terrorism by twiddling your willy and confiscating your Coke, they haven't quite mastered the art of building a useful fence around JFK.
"(A) 31-year-old man swam to a Jamaica Bay shore and then walked past motion sensors and closed-circuit cameras of the airport's state-of-the-art Perimeter Intrusion Detection System. The $100 million system* is meant to safeguard against terrorists."
The cops have charged the swimmer with criminal trespass. Wrong. He rates whatever kind of reward the feds give to heroic whistle blowers.
---
* I wonder if this is the same fence company hired to "secure" the Mexico/U.S. border?
While the feds and the airports are getting pretty good at thwarting terrorism by twiddling your willy and confiscating your Coke, they haven't quite mastered the art of building a useful fence around JFK.
"(A) 31-year-old man swam to a Jamaica Bay shore and then walked past motion sensors and closed-circuit cameras of the airport's state-of-the-art Perimeter Intrusion Detection System. The $100 million system* is meant to safeguard against terrorists."
The cops have charged the swimmer with criminal trespass. Wrong. He rates whatever kind of reward the feds give to heroic whistle blowers.
---
* I wonder if this is the same fence company hired to "secure" the Mexico/U.S. border?
Aug 12, 2012
Speaking of home invasions
A threat yesterday to the Camp J Transient Officer Quarters
But ever-vigilant New Dog Libby to the rescue. A few seconds after this shot there was a certain amount of growling, shrieking, and fur flying before Woody retreated beneath the deck. I feel so protected.
Little Leon, Iowa. doesn't make the news often. Pretty quiet down there in the quasi-Ozarks of southern Iowa. So imagine our surprise to discover some sort of redneck ninja outbreak.
Now, a young woman and her three kids can be terrorized anywhere, any time; but by four guys all dressed in black armed with a bow and arrows -- plus a stun gun -- demanding guns, money, and drugs?
For once I agree with the news writer that "bizarre" is an appropriate adjective for a home invasion. There must be a whole lot more to this story than meets the eye, and I hope there's some followup reporting.
Now, a young woman and her three kids can be terrorized anywhere, any time; but by four guys all dressed in black armed with a bow and arrows -- plus a stun gun -- demanding guns, money, and drugs?
For once I agree with the news writer that "bizarre" is an appropriate adjective for a home invasion. There must be a whole lot more to this story than meets the eye, and I hope there's some followup reporting.
Aug 11, 2012
The Ayn Rand candidate
Is Atlas about to shrug? No, of course not, but it's still pleasant to read that a Contender (however slim his chances) has read the book and found its ideas compelling.
In a 2005 speech to a group of Rand devotees called the Atlas Society, (Paul) Ryan said that Rand was required reading for his office staff and interns. “The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand,” he told the group. “The fight we are in here, make no mistake about it, is a fight of individualism versus collectivism.”
That's music to our ancap ears even if we agree with the dreary political prophets who advise us to gird for another four years of His Ineptness and the Jacobin chorus. When a man who might some day lead the country can use the phrase individualism versus collectivism, things are not quite as bad as they might be.
But even if the anti-Obamaites find a way to win -- essentially by neutralizing the far-left northeast and the assured 78 Obama electoral votes along the Pacific coast and in Hawaii -- we're not necessarily making great libertarian/objectivist progress. Because Alan Greenspan.
As a young fellow, Alan stopped barely short of moving his clothes to Ms. Rand's closet. As an old man and the national money czar, Alan had to spend a lot of time sputtering that, yeah, objectivism was a pretty good idea, but not in the "real world."
Sic transit integrity.
---
The cite is from a New Yorker profile of Ryan. It's recommended reading for folks who still appreciate old-school magazine journalism.
In a 2005 speech to a group of Rand devotees called the Atlas Society, (Paul) Ryan said that Rand was required reading for his office staff and interns. “The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand,” he told the group. “The fight we are in here, make no mistake about it, is a fight of individualism versus collectivism.”
That's music to our ancap ears even if we agree with the dreary political prophets who advise us to gird for another four years of His Ineptness and the Jacobin chorus. When a man who might some day lead the country can use the phrase individualism versus collectivism, things are not quite as bad as they might be.
But even if the anti-Obamaites find a way to win -- essentially by neutralizing the far-left northeast and the assured 78 Obama electoral votes along the Pacific coast and in Hawaii -- we're not necessarily making great libertarian/objectivist progress. Because Alan Greenspan.
As a young fellow, Alan stopped barely short of moving his clothes to Ms. Rand's closet. As an old man and the national money czar, Alan had to spend a lot of time sputtering that, yeah, objectivism was a pretty good idea, but not in the "real world."
Sic transit integrity.
---
The cite is from a New Yorker profile of Ryan. It's recommended reading for folks who still appreciate old-school magazine journalism.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 8, 2012
Personal note
The TMR readership is not one of the demographic segments undergoing a serious population explosion. But by God you guys are faithful, and I appreciate it, especially after the last few days of dull posts here.
Thanks for sticking around through my latest bout of Mediacom Disease. A little over a week ago Mediacomedy jiggled my wires, palpated my F connectors, and allegedly retuned a nearby signal amplifier. They promised the troubles were over, which promise they kept for slightly more than three days. I hereby withdraw, renounce, condemn, and declare null (not to mention void) my previous report on the subject.)
A tech was here again today. After the usual jiggling and palpating he called for backup. The guy guarding his six discovered and fixed a "loose connector" where my neighborhood feed mates with the main line. He said. We'll see.
I hope to repay my regulars with a little more content in my content. It was just too maddening to try to write something non-drivelly knowing there was only a meager chance of ever getting it further than the Mac end of the ethernet cable.
(The few little posts you did see were transmitted via a wimpy wireless signal that sometimes wafts across Camp J. If I knew who the rightful owner was I'd send him a sixpack in gratitude.)
Thanks for sticking around through my latest bout of Mediacom Disease. A little over a week ago Mediacomedy jiggled my wires, palpated my F connectors, and allegedly retuned a nearby signal amplifier. They promised the troubles were over, which promise they kept for slightly more than three days. I hereby withdraw, renounce, condemn, and declare null (not to mention void) my previous report on the subject.)
A tech was here again today. After the usual jiggling and palpating he called for backup. The guy guarding his six discovered and fixed a "loose connector" where my neighborhood feed mates with the main line. He said. We'll see.
I hope to repay my regulars with a little more content in my content. It was just too maddening to try to write something non-drivelly knowing there was only a meager chance of ever getting it further than the Mac end of the ethernet cable.
(The few little posts you did see were transmitted via a wimpy wireless signal that sometimes wafts across Camp J. If I knew who the rightful owner was I'd send him a sixpack in gratitude.)
Obama? Romney? No, go ahead and pop the cap
I'm not too familiar with Marc Faber's work. He bills himself as an expert on the markets and the economy, or both. Today he addresses the question of whether Tweedle-Dum (D) or Tweedle-Dee (R) would best aid the American economy.
...says Faber, the Thailand-based author of the Gloom, Boom & Doom Report, if you put a gun to his head and told him to pick a candidate to vote for, he'd say, "shoot."
He likes gold, by the way, but the report doesn't specify whether as a personal investment or a monetary standard. Could be both. Or he could be just another copper boor. (kof kof).
...says Faber, the Thailand-based author of the Gloom, Boom & Doom Report, if you put a gun to his head and told him to pick a candidate to vote for, he'd say, "shoot."
He likes gold, by the way, but the report doesn't specify whether as a personal investment or a monetary standard. Could be both. Or he could be just another copper boor. (kof kof).
Aug 7, 2012
Nigerian Lesson
Some will find this insensitive. So be it.
In Nigeria, a gunman has just shot and killed 19 persons in a church. For reference, that is one more human life lost than in Colorado and Wisconsin combined.
Nigeria has very strict gun control laws.
In Nigeria, a gunman has just shot and killed 19 persons in a church. For reference, that is one more human life lost than in Colorado and Wisconsin combined.
Nigeria has very strict gun control laws.
Aug 5, 2012
Sikh shootings
While the cops and the media sort out the details, I am hoping:
(1) -- That this isn't the work of some sick Cletus who thinks Sikhs are Muslims.
(2) -- CNN fires the so-called reporter who asked a hospital emergency room spokesperson: "What's the staff vibe?"
(1) -- That this isn't the work of some sick Cletus who thinks Sikhs are Muslims.
(2) -- CNN fires the so-called reporter who asked a hospital emergency room spokesperson: "What's the staff vibe?"
Aug 3, 2012
The Other Welfare Queens
From the cute financial writers at "Motley Fool" (We Make Losing Amusing):
"After stimulus-hungry investors were disappointed by this week's Federal Reserve and ECB announcements, they'll turn to today's nonfarm payroll report in hopes it will fuel action from the U.S. central bank. In particular, they'll be hoping payroll additions fall well below the 100,000 person consensus estimate."
(Related quotations, courtesy of Mr. Orwell: "War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. " And the ever-popular "2 + 2 = 5.")
Simply stated, and not too drastically oversimplified, the sleek-groomed MBA set is praying for higher unemployment to force Ben to run the national money mimeograph a little faster.
I think we need to lay off the literal welfare mothers for a while. They're pikers compared to the spawn of graduate schools of business.
"After stimulus-hungry investors were disappointed by this week's Federal Reserve and ECB announcements, they'll turn to today's nonfarm payroll report in hopes it will fuel action from the U.S. central bank. In particular, they'll be hoping payroll additions fall well below the 100,000 person consensus estimate."
(Related quotations, courtesy of Mr. Orwell: "War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. " And the ever-popular "2 + 2 = 5.")
Simply stated, and not too drastically oversimplified, the sleek-groomed MBA set is praying for higher unemployment to force Ben to run the national money mimeograph a little faster.
I think we need to lay off the literal welfare mothers for a while. They're pikers compared to the spawn of graduate schools of business.
MSNBC tells the truth, sort of
Mika has been absent. So has Joe. They're probably in London advising Her Majesty and the Lord Mayor on event security and offering helpful hints on foreign and economic policy. But I don't know for sure.
Meanwhile, "Morning Joe" continues with the JV. Which led to something that had me nodding in approval a half-hour ago. Some of the early rising chatterers almost agreed that it doesn't make a whole Hell of a lot of difference* which statist we send to the White House in November. Because. like, we have a "structural problem" due to too few people working and too many scrambling for free tit. (No kidding? Well I will be damned. Why didn't I think of that?)
Then Chuck Schumer came on and ruined it by explaining that it's all the Tea Party's fault for retiring Richard Lugar.
---
*Usual weasel-out about Supreme Court appointments and the importance of down-ticket races.
Meanwhile, "Morning Joe" continues with the JV. Which led to something that had me nodding in approval a half-hour ago. Some of the early rising chatterers almost agreed that it doesn't make a whole Hell of a lot of difference* which statist we send to the White House in November. Because. like, we have a "structural problem" due to too few people working and too many scrambling for free tit. (No kidding? Well I will be damned. Why didn't I think of that?)
Then Chuck Schumer came on and ruined it by explaining that it's all the Tea Party's fault for retiring Richard Lugar.
---
*Usual weasel-out about Supreme Court appointments and the importance of down-ticket races.
Aug 2, 2012
Joshua for president
Now here's a feel-good story for you. Joshua Smith is nine. He heard his hometown, Detroit, was broke. So he set up a lemonade and popcorn stand in front of his modest home. He dedicates the proceeds to the city, to pay down its debt.
I will not be cynical about Joshua. Good kid. Willing to work. Heart in the right place. Plus, undoubtedly, other virtues once associated with the idea of being American.
However, I'm a little concerned about the city he is trying to help. Detroit is, of course, ruled by grasping politicians who control a regulatory Stasi even Honecker would have been proud of. Unt dey haf ways. That's why Detroit is broke.
Who can doubt that someone with a badge is checking on this lad? Street vending license? Health department license? Zoning approval? Local EPA-like organization hazmat clearances? City, county, state, and federal tax ID number? Sales tax permit? Compliance with EOE dictates? Timely filed reports to OSHA?
Young men like Josh both irritate and frighten the Hacks of City Hall (and Congress etc.).
For one thing, they cringe at yet another shot of publicity calling attention to the results of their stupid and venal ways. Worse yet, they detest a demonstration that a nine-year-old boy knows more about the problems and their solutions than they do.
Of course there's one large structural problem with Joshua's plan. When he turns his profits over to the city he is, by definition, handing money to the politicians. They will piss it away. Or steal it.
I will not be cynical about Joshua. Good kid. Willing to work. Heart in the right place. Plus, undoubtedly, other virtues once associated with the idea of being American.
However, I'm a little concerned about the city he is trying to help. Detroit is, of course, ruled by grasping politicians who control a regulatory Stasi even Honecker would have been proud of. Unt dey haf ways. That's why Detroit is broke.
Who can doubt that someone with a badge is checking on this lad? Street vending license? Health department license? Zoning approval? Local EPA-like organization hazmat clearances? City, county, state, and federal tax ID number? Sales tax permit? Compliance with EOE dictates? Timely filed reports to OSHA?
Young men like Josh both irritate and frighten the Hacks of City Hall (and Congress etc.).
For one thing, they cringe at yet another shot of publicity calling attention to the results of their stupid and venal ways. Worse yet, they detest a demonstration that a nine-year-old boy knows more about the problems and their solutions than they do.
Of course there's one large structural problem with Joshua's plan. When he turns his profits over to the city he is, by definition, handing money to the politicians. They will piss it away. Or steal it.
Aug 1, 2012
MIserycom update
The technician appears and seems to operate at a higher level than his colleagues. After years of frequent outages, treated by Mediacom with new F conncectors, different modems, head shaking, incantations, and, I would bet, more than a little percussive maintenance, this man discovered a faulty linear amplifier serving the neighborhood.
Bless all the competent men and women everywhere.
EDIT: This post is withdrawn as of three days after being written.
Bless all the competent men and women everywhere.
EDIT: This post is withdrawn as of three days after being written.
Libertarian Oak
Life in Bucolia has its rewards.
At 7 a.m. I am watching New Dog Libby romp. Guy in a pickup, a professional tree man, pulls up and wonders if I'd care to own a big load of bucked burr oak. I said "sure" and asked where it was. "Down on Lake Shore Drive, but I'll bring it to you. Where ya want it dumped?"
"Aww, c'mon. I'll go get it."
"Naah. I'll bring it."
I smiled, said thanks, and pulled out a medium-sized Federal Reserve Cartoon. "Why don't you treat your crew to a few beers on me after work?"
"Nope. Glad to get rid of it." (Repeat dialog on the same theme for a couple-three more lines.)
The friendly tone, along with money offered and refused, is one example of genuine good will with which Ayn Rand seasons her lessons on free markets and rational self-interest. Others might just call it the KY Jelly of commerce.
The pictured result greeted me when I returned from cage-fighting Mediacom. There's more fuel than the picture represents, a full cord at least, value in FRCs $150 or more.
---
Why libertarian? Because two men cooperated to their mutual advantage. I got firewood free, save for the labor of cutting and splitting. My pal saved the trouble and expense of hauling it a long way. Not even Elizabeth Warren could improve on that, though she would damned well try. Or at least report me to the IRS if I forget to declare it as in-kind income.
Miserycom
Ladies and Gentlemen, I rant, briefly but wholeheartedly. Mediacom.
If you have a choice in the matter of high-speed internet connection and Mediacom is one of them, choose another. Move heaven and earth to choose another. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to discover a provider which does not consider it a great personal favor to dependably deliver the cable signal for which you pay handsomely.
Since the choices around here are limited, I shall spend too much of tomorrow morning at the local Miserycom office, begging and pleading and groveling in hopes that someone there is (a) capable of and (b) cares enough to fix the expensive fubared SOB so that it stays fixed for a while.
This TMR report comes to you via a wussy neighborhood wireless signal, the oft-used rescue vessel for which I thank all the gods plus its rightful owner. Believe me, if you're on the Good Ship Mediapop, you need a life boat.
If you have a choice in the matter of high-speed internet connection and Mediacom is one of them, choose another. Move heaven and earth to choose another. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to discover a provider which does not consider it a great personal favor to dependably deliver the cable signal for which you pay handsomely.
Since the choices around here are limited, I shall spend too much of tomorrow morning at the local Miserycom office, begging and pleading and groveling in hopes that someone there is (a) capable of and (b) cares enough to fix the expensive fubared SOB so that it stays fixed for a while.
This TMR report comes to you via a wussy neighborhood wireless signal, the oft-used rescue vessel for which I thank all the gods plus its rightful owner. Believe me, if you're on the Good Ship Mediapop, you need a life boat.
Jul 31, 2012
Go Ahead, Fed, Make My Day
The Bernanke Cloven meets today. I'll bet Ben doesn't know he is serving me, personally. He will continue the unacknowledged QE3 and further promise to keep interest rates low -- effectively zero -- for at least three more years. The two moves are different approaches to the same scam, creating money out of thin air and pretending it is wealth.
And that helps me make a decision on spending some savings on a new capital asset. Why? Because up until now I've always had to calculate interest on money I think I want to spend -- interest paid or interest earned.
Let's assume my little adventure costs $10,000, just to ease the arithmetic. The money would come from a "risk-free" account paying one-tenth of 1 per cent or $10 per year or 83 and one-third cents per month. Poor as I am, I can safely ignore that.
Over my adult years, interest available to Joe Sixpack ranged from about 4 per cent up to an amazing 10-or-15 per cent as the Carter debacle wound down. About ten years ago, $10,000 commanded something like 5 per cent, sometimes 6, depending on how carefully you shopped around for your CDs and other "safe" investments. That meant that the first cost of spending $10,000 was the $500 or $600 interest you lost. Call it $50 a month. Or call it a box of high-grade .45 ACP every week.
In any case, call it significant because, even at that late date in our economic history , Americans retained some faith that their government was attempting to manage our currency in a grown-up manner.
Up until approximately that point, we generally agreed that money was supposed to be worth something. We operated as though there should be some rational correspondence between the value of the dollar you hold today and the same dollar in your pocket one year from today. Misadventures such as Jimmy Carter and the savings-and-loan fiasco were viewed as aberrations. If that meant things like letting the seventh-largest bank in the country go bust, so be it.
The surest evidence that your savings represented actual wealth was the fact that people would pay for the use of it.
No more. The United States dollar is a deathbed case as a store of value. An apt comparison is a duplex in the heart of defeated Detroit. Neither commands a dime for its use, and a fresh coat of paint won't change that.
---
So, if everything else seems right, I'll spend because it seems stupendously foolish not to.
Meanwhile I'll listen raptly to the Great Debate as we choose our leaders for 2013 and beyond. The suspense is mortal. Was His Ineptness born feloniously in Kenya or merely ineptly in Hawaii? Did Mitt insult both the Brits and the Palestinians? Should we ban high-capacity magazines or gay marriage?
And that helps me make a decision on spending some savings on a new capital asset. Why? Because up until now I've always had to calculate interest on money I think I want to spend -- interest paid or interest earned.
Let's assume my little adventure costs $10,000, just to ease the arithmetic. The money would come from a "risk-free" account paying one-tenth of 1 per cent or $10 per year or 83 and one-third cents per month. Poor as I am, I can safely ignore that.
Over my adult years, interest available to Joe Sixpack ranged from about 4 per cent up to an amazing 10-or-15 per cent as the Carter debacle wound down. About ten years ago, $10,000 commanded something like 5 per cent, sometimes 6, depending on how carefully you shopped around for your CDs and other "safe" investments. That meant that the first cost of spending $10,000 was the $500 or $600 interest you lost. Call it $50 a month. Or call it a box of high-grade .45 ACP every week.
In any case, call it significant because, even at that late date in our economic history , Americans retained some faith that their government was attempting to manage our currency in a grown-up manner.
Up until approximately that point, we generally agreed that money was supposed to be worth something. We operated as though there should be some rational correspondence between the value of the dollar you hold today and the same dollar in your pocket one year from today. Misadventures such as Jimmy Carter and the savings-and-loan fiasco were viewed as aberrations. If that meant things like letting the seventh-largest bank in the country go bust, so be it.
The surest evidence that your savings represented actual wealth was the fact that people would pay for the use of it.
No more. The United States dollar is a deathbed case as a store of value. An apt comparison is a duplex in the heart of defeated Detroit. Neither commands a dime for its use, and a fresh coat of paint won't change that.
---
So, if everything else seems right, I'll spend because it seems stupendously foolish not to.
Meanwhile I'll listen raptly to the Great Debate as we choose our leaders for 2013 and beyond. The suspense is mortal. Was His Ineptness born feloniously in Kenya or merely ineptly in Hawaii? Did Mitt insult both the Brits and the Palestinians? Should we ban high-capacity magazines or gay marriage?
Jul 28, 2012
Piscine Porn (Olympics)
In blythe recognition of the swimming events.
Not attracted to scales? Okay.
Not attracted to scales? Okay.
Compiler's note: I could find nothing doing justice to this woman. Where were the talented studio still photographers?
So much for American exeptionalism
In London, Yi Siling of China shoots her way to The Gold, ahead of silver and bronze winners from Poland and somewhere else in China.
American daughters of Dan'l Boone and Sgt. York failed to place in the 10-meter (about 33 feet in real money) shoot. A shaken Pentagon has declined comment.
A word about the weapons.
Looks just like my Daisy Red Ryder would if I hired the staff of Tiger Balm Gardens to customize it.
American daughters of Dan'l Boone and Sgt. York failed to place in the 10-meter (about 33 feet in real money) shoot. A shaken Pentagon has declined comment.
A word about the weapons.
Looks just like my Daisy Red Ryder would if I hired the staff of Tiger Balm Gardens to customize it.
Jul 27, 2012
The Guns of London
Roberta notes that the Olympic shooting events begin today. England quakes as homies, colonials, and foreign wogs alike take up arms. Why, those rifles and pistols are capable of penetrating objects out to at least 10 meters (about 33 feet in real money) .
Alert the authorities.
Alert the authorities.
A Tramp Abroad
Mitt, you doofus, when you're a guest in another man's home you do not remark that the drapes need cleaning.
The proper answer to Fleet Street representatives is: "As a guest in your country I am inspired by the achievements of the great British people and their leaders. Any nation which turned back Napoleon is capable of whatever is necessary to ensure a successful Olympic celebration."
Notes:
1. It is acceptable to surreptitiously cross your fingers while delivering the statement.
2. Do not mention Dunkirk.
The proper answer to Fleet Street representatives is: "As a guest in your country I am inspired by the achievements of the great British people and their leaders. Any nation which turned back Napoleon is capable of whatever is necessary to ensure a successful Olympic celebration."
Notes:
1. It is acceptable to surreptitiously cross your fingers while delivering the statement.
2. Do not mention Dunkirk.
Jul 26, 2012
Is blogger.com striving to become the new Detroit? Another long-timer deserted, and again I waited too long to note his forwarding address on the sidebar. It's fixed now, so you can get to Guffaw in AZ from here. When you do you'll find, among other good stuff::
Hee-Haw
Tam broke out her dissection kit and went to work on Bill O'Reilly* for an idiotic comment about ammunition stashes and the crack government anti-terrorist machine.
A commenter made the point that only Hulk Hogan could carry 6,000 rounds of ammunition, the hoard Aurora Red allegedly possessed. Good point. (O'Reilly said it was 60,000 rounds. Never mind. Who depends on teevee personalities for facts anyway?)
Too lazy to do the arithmetic, I walked out to the shack and weighed a 20-round box of .257 Roberts, loaded with c. 70-grainers, the closest thing I have to the usual AK47 rounds. One box equals a little more than one pound. Hence 6,000 rounds of 7.62x39 hefts out to quite a bit more than 300 pounds,
Even a better figure of a man than that scrawny-ass loser could handle an ammo load of, at best, 50 or 60 pounds in addition to the weapon itself, the gas mask, the grenades, the body armor, and the tactical Barlow.
If he wanted more at hand for extended mayhem he'd need a pack animal.
We must therefore rally behind common-sense laws to restrict deadly donkey trafficking . If this makes it more dififcult for law-abiding citizens to buy and sell Bill O'Reilly, remember: It's for the children.
Even tighter restrictions are needed on small, easily concealed burros.
---
*The facts force me to qualify this. I am speaking only metaphorically. More's the pity.
A commenter made the point that only Hulk Hogan could carry 6,000 rounds of ammunition, the hoard Aurora Red allegedly possessed. Good point. (O'Reilly said it was 60,000 rounds. Never mind. Who depends on teevee personalities for facts anyway?)
Too lazy to do the arithmetic, I walked out to the shack and weighed a 20-round box of .257 Roberts, loaded with c. 70-grainers, the closest thing I have to the usual AK47 rounds. One box equals a little more than one pound. Hence 6,000 rounds of 7.62x39 hefts out to quite a bit more than 300 pounds,
Even a better figure of a man than that scrawny-ass loser could handle an ammo load of, at best, 50 or 60 pounds in addition to the weapon itself, the gas mask, the grenades, the body armor, and the tactical Barlow.
If he wanted more at hand for extended mayhem he'd need a pack animal.
We must therefore rally behind common-sense laws to restrict deadly donkey trafficking . If this makes it more dififcult for law-abiding citizens to buy and sell Bill O'Reilly, remember: It's for the children.
Even tighter restrictions are needed on small, easily concealed burros.
---
*The facts force me to qualify this. I am speaking only metaphorically. More's the pity.
Elmer Fudd sells out
You can sometimes make very close guesses about a man from his auction bill, and you might enjoy peeking at the material side of one who has lived a Heartland version of American dream.
He was hunter, fisherman, and handy home craftsman who bought good gear and kept it polished and running. Guns, rods, reels, tools, boat, pickup, ATV.
He was also quite good to Mrs. Fudd. He bought her the nicest new appliances and a perfectly respectable Impala, red with a moon roof. He permitted her to own and use carnival glass and even lawn figurines. If that isn't evidence of saintly forbearance I don't know what is.
Over on his side of the property he kept his Fudd stuff, and he kept it well. A Winchester Model 70 in 7mm Remington Magnum. That's probably the tool involved in the moose antler mount although it might have been bagged with his Remington 742 in .30-06 (a rifle in which interests me only because three spare magazines have been rattling around in my junk box for years). A .22 and a 12 gauge round out his arsenal. It's modest by our standards, and it lacks the ninja firepower most of us worship. (What? No pistols? No hi-cap AK-47s?). But it served his purposes, and it's reasonable to assume he correctly dismissed any stray thoughts about a serious zombie threat there on the outskirts of Elmore.
The home place is also under the hammer, a nice big house on four-plus acres of timber. That got my attention to the point of a careful inspection via Google maps.
In the end, "no." I'm happy here even though I sometimes wish for a tad more land. The Fudd estate, at a little more than four acres, qualifies on that score, but, like Camp J in Smugleye-on-Lake, it is inside a city limit, meaning I couldn't pace off 100 yards and build a berm. Couldn't test new hand loads from a bench on the deck.
Besides, Fudd Acres is in Minnesota, and I have my pride.
He was hunter, fisherman, and handy home craftsman who bought good gear and kept it polished and running. Guns, rods, reels, tools, boat, pickup, ATV.
He was also quite good to Mrs. Fudd. He bought her the nicest new appliances and a perfectly respectable Impala, red with a moon roof. He permitted her to own and use carnival glass and even lawn figurines. If that isn't evidence of saintly forbearance I don't know what is.
Over on his side of the property he kept his Fudd stuff, and he kept it well. A Winchester Model 70 in 7mm Remington Magnum. That's probably the tool involved in the moose antler mount although it might have been bagged with his Remington 742 in .30-06 (a rifle in which interests me only because three spare magazines have been rattling around in my junk box for years). A .22 and a 12 gauge round out his arsenal. It's modest by our standards, and it lacks the ninja firepower most of us worship. (What? No pistols? No hi-cap AK-47s?). But it served his purposes, and it's reasonable to assume he correctly dismissed any stray thoughts about a serious zombie threat there on the outskirts of Elmore.
The home place is also under the hammer, a nice big house on four-plus acres of timber. That got my attention to the point of a careful inspection via Google maps.
In the end, "no." I'm happy here even though I sometimes wish for a tad more land. The Fudd estate, at a little more than four acres, qualifies on that score, but, like Camp J in Smugleye-on-Lake, it is inside a city limit, meaning I couldn't pace off 100 yards and build a berm. Couldn't test new hand loads from a bench on the deck.
Besides, Fudd Acres is in Minnesota, and I have my pride.
Jul 25, 2012
Attention, whores:
The Lookout (Yahoo! "News") pleads:
Please send a photograph of yourself in front of your home holding a sign with: how much your home was worth when you bought it its current value. Let us know where you live, when you purchased your home, the number of members in your household and how your mortgage has affected your life. What decisions have you made as a result of your purchasing and paying for your home?
I'll pass, Yahoo, but I doubt it will make a noticeable dent in your response rate. There's no shortage of people who think the whine is an excellent coping mechanism.
Besides, if you want another tear-jerker series, you can come around and take your own gawddam pictures.
Please send a photograph of yourself in front of your home holding a sign with: how much your home was worth when you bought it its current value. Let us know where you live, when you purchased your home, the number of members in your household and how your mortgage has affected your life. What decisions have you made as a result of your purchasing and paying for your home?
I'll pass, Yahoo, but I doubt it will make a noticeable dent in your response rate. There's no shortage of people who think the whine is an excellent coping mechanism.
Besides, if you want another tear-jerker series, you can come around and take your own gawddam pictures.
Jul 24, 2012
Living on the south side of a big lake sometimes has charm enough to make up for the tourist hordes. A stiff wind across the bay gives Camp J a current temperature of 76 against the official government reading of 87. May it so blow through the next two days -- a period of duelling weather prophecies.
One official gummint "point" forecast says the heat will subside Thursday. The other one predicts 90-plus until Friday. Gee, it really surprises a guy when his government disagrees with itself.
(I live on the border between two NWS forecast offices, and they're always bickering between themselves about the cusp forecast.)
One official gummint "point" forecast says the heat will subside Thursday. The other one predicts 90-plus until Friday. Gee, it really surprises a guy when his government disagrees with itself.
(I live on the border between two NWS forecast offices, and they're always bickering between themselves about the cusp forecast.)
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