1. A vast lethargy has overcome Camp J and all who inhabit it. As Commandant, I can take comfort only in the fact that I seem to recline, motionless, a little less than New Dog Libby. And it isn't even hot.
2. Today's duty Wranglers were well-fitted when new, and my mirror image (full-frontal disgust) reveals no substantial chassis changes. Further, the belt fastens in the same hole as it has for a very long time. Further further, the jeans were barely burdened. A thin sheaf of small bills, the Buck Squire 501, and one pair of 14-inch Diamond channel-locking pliers. Yet my pants fell on the short walk from the shop bench to the hose bib. Only reliable elastic on my shorts prevented revelation of gross cleavage to revolted passers-by. (Boxers or briefs? None of your damned business.) I conclude that my butt is shrinking. I am unable to assign meaning to the fact.
3. The wardrobe malfunction occurred as I was fixing a hose connection. The outrage leading to the entire incident was almost -- but, alas, not quite -- enough to get my heart started. Upon investigation I discovered the washer inside the plastic 37-function nozzle from WalMart (I suppose) was likewise plastic. Meaning that after one months use it would seal fluids only at and above the viscosity level of hot asphalt. Replacing it with a Luddite's rubber, I tried to work up enough ill-will to avenge myself by finding the guy who decided that melted Sprite bottles could be turned into sealing washers and shoot him. Couldn't.
4. And that made me feel guilty about something else. This is but the second post of July, A.D. 2012. Meaning I have gone days and days without trying to ridicule the Court of His Ineptness, without sprinkling even a little scorn on the 535 congresssslugs and zoning administrators and like vermin. What a sad dereliction of muh sworn duty.
To bring this all together, I must note that meaningful social comment here in the Age of AmSoc requires deep feelings of hatred and bile combined with a willingness to engage in what, in other circumstances, would be unforgivable lapses into vulgar, thoughtless, and cruel means of expression.
Guys, I just can't do it lately, so I'm all like WTF!? Is my reservoir of noble muckraking venom in my ass which, as I mentioned above, seems to be shrinking?
(If so, does Obamacare cover it?)
Showing posts with label Ludditical trauma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ludditical trauma. Show all posts
Jul 11, 2012
Jun 12, 2012
The Stanley Cup
Eight days before the summer solstice, the electric teevee and all the papers are giddy about something called The Stanley Cup. For those of you whose lives have been sufficiently full without knowing what that is, it is a gimcrack given for "hockey," one of the few games in which no one has ever actually seen a goal being scored.
This mistimed irelevancy at least illustrates how badly America has strayed from the Great Cosmic Plan.
God ordained certain seasons, to wit:
June, July, August -- Baseball, with a brief extension permitting the World Series to be played in September.
September, October, November -- Football, again with a special dispensation permitting a contest on New Year's Day which must pit the champion of the Big Ten against some Left Coast pickups.
December, January , and February -- Basketball.
March, April, and May are reserved for sporting romance, the private consummations of which must be neither photographed nor televised. Its public exposure is limited to (a) planning June weddings and (b) bankrupting parents in executing said plans.
Hockey is omitted. It is not an American sport. If Los Angeles insists otherwise it simply verifies the widely held view that it is not an American city.
(If LA remains intransigent on the subject, a trade can be arranged -- the whole damned city and all of its slurbs for a couple of nice quiet lakes in Northwest Ontario. Plus a draft choice to be announced later. Perhaps...).
This mistimed irelevancy at least illustrates how badly America has strayed from the Great Cosmic Plan.
God ordained certain seasons, to wit:
June, July, August -- Baseball, with a brief extension permitting the World Series to be played in September.
September, October, November -- Football, again with a special dispensation permitting a contest on New Year's Day which must pit the champion of the Big Ten against some Left Coast pickups.
December, January , and February -- Basketball.
March, April, and May are reserved for sporting romance, the private consummations of which must be neither photographed nor televised. Its public exposure is limited to (a) planning June weddings and (b) bankrupting parents in executing said plans.
Hockey is omitted. It is not an American sport. If Los Angeles insists otherwise it simply verifies the widely held view that it is not an American city.
(If LA remains intransigent on the subject, a trade can be arranged -- the whole damned city and all of its slurbs for a couple of nice quiet lakes in Northwest Ontario. Plus a draft choice to be announced later. Perhaps...).
Jun 9, 2012
Coming to a Telescreen near you
Technology alert: Intel Inside! That is, inside your living room, a black box atop your teevee, using its facial recognition gizmo to make sure it's you watching, not your cat.
Somehow --without identifying you as an individual person, according to its maker -- it knows what kind of advertisement will be most likely to sucker you in.
You suspish? Imma suspish, even though:
The set-top box pitched by Intel doesn't identify specific people, but it could provide general data about viewers' gender or whether they're adults or children to help target advertising..."
Right. And the first Telescreen probably couldn't yell at Winston Smith in real time that he was fudging on his calisthenics. But by 1984, the G3 or G4 version was a right handy little tool for the Inner Party's NSA, TSA, CIA, etc.
It is one of the horrors of our time that there is really no good way to outlaw technology which is specifically designed and marketed to eliminate places where we are allowed a "reasonable expectation of privacy."
Somehow --without identifying you as an individual person, according to its maker -- it knows what kind of advertisement will be most likely to sucker you in.
You suspish? Imma suspish, even though:
The set-top box pitched by Intel doesn't identify specific people, but it could provide general data about viewers' gender or whether they're adults or children to help target advertising..."
Right. And the first Telescreen probably couldn't yell at Winston Smith in real time that he was fudging on his calisthenics. But by 1984, the G3 or G4 version was a right handy little tool for the Inner Party's NSA, TSA, CIA, etc.
It is one of the horrors of our time that there is really no good way to outlaw technology which is specifically designed and marketed to eliminate places where we are allowed a "reasonable expectation of privacy."
Apr 25, 2012
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 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.
Jan 17, 2012
Just housekeeping
The Mac laptop threw a rod Saturday, and the TMR comes to you via a 20th Century desktop with wide white sidewalls, fender skirts, and a foxtail on the radio antenna. It runs, but the tappet noise is driving me nuts.
Expect delays.
Expect delays.
Dec 23, 2011
To arms! Man the barricades! Save the '03 Springfields!
For decades the Fort Snelling Memorial Rifle Squad has been honoring deceased veterans with the hallowed three-volley rifle salute. As a matter of tradition and preference it has used the United States Rifle, Caliber .30-06, Model 1903.
Now some tax-sucking Sad Sack furshlugginer chair-warming feather merchant gold brick of an REMF wants to take the '03 Springfields back and give the boys them new-fangled M1 Garands.
Give up that soothing "snickity-snack-smack" of a well-lubed and competently handled '03 action? Suffer the excruciating pain of the M1 thumb? All because some moldy asshole found an old rule in a stupid book in perfidious Washington?
"No!" says the hand-picked,all-volunteer squad, and "No!" say we.
Resist! Support the Boys of Pointe du Snell, even if it takes an act of of Congress, which it might.
---
h/t : PM from author of The World's Greatest Travel Blog
Now some tax-sucking Sad Sack furshlugginer chair-warming feather merchant gold brick of an REMF wants to take the '03 Springfields back and give the boys them new-fangled M1 Garands.
Give up that soothing "snickity-snack-smack" of a well-lubed and competently handled '03 action? Suffer the excruciating pain of the M1 thumb? All because some moldy asshole found an old rule in a stupid book in perfidious Washington?
"No!" says the hand-picked,all-volunteer squad, and "No!" say we.
Resist! Support the Boys of Pointe du Snell, even if it takes an act of of Congress, which it might.
---
h/t : PM from author of The World's Greatest Travel Blog
Dec 14, 2011
Thoughts after a great loss to American Letters
Putting the finishing touches on a Big Post, I highlighted and deleted a single word. And all the rest of it was wafted off into the ether, down the Memory Hole of No Return, all 800 or so words of truth and beauty.
"Damn Blogger! Damn everyone who won't damn Blogger!! Damn everyone that won't put lights in his windows and sit up all night damning Blogger!!!"
If that rings a bell, just think back to our 1795 treaty with the Bloody Brits not long after the Battle of Fallen Timbers. An anonymous proto-graffiti artist splashed it on a Boston wall. Substitute "John Jay" for "Blogger".
Then say something about how civil our political discourse "used to be." :)
Dec 7, 2011
Oh, Brave New World
I still cling bitterly to the belief that the last important inventions were the Model 94 Winchester and the Zenith Transceanic radio. But it can be hard.
About once a month New Dog Libby's dietary needs send me reluctantly to WalMart for 44 pounds of Purina Dog Chow in an Ol' Roy bag. This was such a day. The crowd was thin, thank God, but I had forgotten to activate my anti-impulse circuits.
The new, cheap flat-panel HDTV is better in every respect that the bulky monster it has replaced. Merely saving space in the small living room made it worthwhile, never mind the better picture and curse-free setup.
Nevertheless, I feel like a primitive Baptist who has just discovered Charles Darwin.
About once a month New Dog Libby's dietary needs send me reluctantly to WalMart for 44 pounds of Purina Dog Chow in an Ol' Roy bag. This was such a day. The crowd was thin, thank God, but I had forgotten to activate my anti-impulse circuits.
The new, cheap flat-panel HDTV is better in every respect that the bulky monster it has replaced. Merely saving space in the small living room made it worthwhile, never mind the better picture and curse-free setup.
Nevertheless, I feel like a primitive Baptist who has just discovered Charles Darwin.
Nov 22, 2011
Domestica
I've let the fire go out because it's time to haul ashes. Propane is keeping the place warm enough, but it is just not right.
Like the air on a 747. You can breathe it, but it cloys. The odor is wrong. The feel is wrong. It's making me cranky. It's making me think all this modern surliness results from the demise of the oaken fire.
EDIT: Ashes hauled. Propane off. Blaze kindled. The world is a lovely place.
Like the air on a 747. You can breathe it, but it cloys. The odor is wrong. The feel is wrong. It's making me cranky. It's making me think all this modern surliness results from the demise of the oaken fire.
EDIT: Ashes hauled. Propane off. Blaze kindled. The world is a lovely place.
Oct 7, 2011
Spengler Didn't Know Jack Schidtt About the Decline of the West
I see by my electrical teevee that some pitcher for some team dramatically struck out a guy named Rodriguez who batted for some other team. According to the report, this sends the pitcher's team to the "American League Championship Series." Note the date of the event: October 6.
This explains 21st Century American lassitude and its secret application for a loan from the IMF Third-World Bailout Fund.
When the Universe was a finer place, the World Serious* was history by early October. We didn't call it the "September Classic" for nothing in the days when America could make radios and steel pistols; the era when we chose our wars more carefully and could, in general, win most of them with reasonable dispatch.
A nation abandons cherished tradition at its peril, and I suggest President Obama order a return to the diamond game as God intended it. Sixteen teams,** two leagues, no goddam "divisions," and 154 games plus the Series which, in case I haven't mentioned it yet, dammit, should be played in September.
(At the same time he might also outlaw television, although that might raise Constitutional questions.)
That's change you can believe it.
---
*Thank you, Mr. Lardner, and while I'm here may I mention that if you and your buddy Mencken were still around, things would be a whole lot better.
**I mean, what the Hell ever gave anyone the idea that Tampa, for instance, was "major league?"
This explains 21st Century American lassitude and its secret application for a loan from the IMF Third-World Bailout Fund.
When the Universe was a finer place, the World Serious* was history by early October. We didn't call it the "September Classic" for nothing in the days when America could make radios and steel pistols; the era when we chose our wars more carefully and could, in general, win most of them with reasonable dispatch.
A nation abandons cherished tradition at its peril, and I suggest President Obama order a return to the diamond game as God intended it. Sixteen teams,** two leagues, no goddam "divisions," and 154 games plus the Series which, in case I haven't mentioned it yet, dammit, should be played in September.
(At the same time he might also outlaw television, although that might raise Constitutional questions.)
That's change you can believe it.
---
*Thank you, Mr. Lardner, and while I'm here may I mention that if you and your buddy Mencken were still around, things would be a whole lot better.
**I mean, what the Hell ever gave anyone the idea that Tampa, for instance, was "major league?"
Jun 29, 2011
Perhaps you can hear my heart pounding
Checking the market close I discovered a Ruger press release. Gunland is graced with a new one -- the SR40c. It is an SR40 chopped down enough to earn the c, for concealable. See?
I can't begin to say how wonderful it is to have another plastic gun available.
I'll bet it shoots well enough for its intended purpose if I do my part.
I can't begin to say how wonderful it is to have another plastic gun available.
I'll bet it shoots well enough for its intended purpose if I do my part.
Jun 5, 2011
Attention Photography Geeks: A bleg
I have a large collection of glass plates c. 1880-1910, almost certainly the work of a professional. About a hundred are 5 x 7, shot in my area. Another hundred or so are 4 x 5 and appear from some one's traditional grand tour of Europe. (In those days 4X5 *was* a candid format.)
I printed many of them before the death of film and chemicals moved me to dismantle my lab. I've decided they all need to be scanned and preserved.
So the bleg is for counsel on hardware, scanners, printers, and software to do the job with computers I have -- Mac desktop and laptop, old but at least running OS10.
Many of them are excellent quality and deserve some expense. On the other hand, I'm not willing to mortgage Camp J. (I might, however, be willing to offer a distressingly peripatetic lab/wiemaraner cross as security; she just found another dead carp down by the lake.)
Or would it be better to find professional to do the scanning? I can happily devote hours to polishing a lethal weapon for the bluing tanks, but my patience for digitalis doesn't extend nearly so far. Whaddya think?
I printed many of them before the death of film and chemicals moved me to dismantle my lab. I've decided they all need to be scanned and preserved.
So the bleg is for counsel on hardware, scanners, printers, and software to do the job with computers I have -- Mac desktop and laptop, old but at least running OS10.
Many of them are excellent quality and deserve some expense. On the other hand, I'm not willing to mortgage Camp J. (I might, however, be willing to offer a distressingly peripatetic lab/wiemaraner cross as security; she just found another dead carp down by the lake.)
Or would it be better to find professional to do the scanning? I can happily devote hours to polishing a lethal weapon for the bluing tanks, but my patience for digitalis doesn't extend nearly so far. Whaddya think?
Oct 27, 2010
The .41 Remington Magnum
A pal has just told Facebook about his pleasure at acquiring a Black Hawk in .41 Magnum, triggering a certain nostalgia around here. It was a caliber which didn't deserve commercial death and probably would have survived if semi-autos hadn't taken over the cops' world.
I sold mine several years ago for just two reasons. It was a minty three-screw, and I decided I didn't want to subject it to the abrasions of field use. The decision was sealed one night in the reloading shack when it dawned on me that I was stocking bullets and dies for a ridiculous number of calibers. So, ludditically, I resolved to home-brew nothing other than .38/.357 and .45. It was a practical decision but sometimes regretful -- like wishing you hadn't sent that trusty old girl friend out into the cold just because she demanded liver and onions once in a while.
There a small and amusing chapter in firearms history about the .41 Remington Magnum. About three years before its time, George L. Herter had begun selling a proprietary cartridge called the .401 PowerMag. He did a good deal of caterwauling to the effect that Remington simply stole his cartridge.
I sold mine several years ago for just two reasons. It was a minty three-screw, and I decided I didn't want to subject it to the abrasions of field use. The decision was sealed one night in the reloading shack when it dawned on me that I was stocking bullets and dies for a ridiculous number of calibers. So, ludditically, I resolved to home-brew nothing other than .38/.357 and .45. It was a practical decision but sometimes regretful -- like wishing you hadn't sent that trusty old girl friend out into the cold just because she demanded liver and onions once in a while.
There a small and amusing chapter in firearms history about the .41 Remington Magnum. About three years before its time, George L. Herter had begun selling a proprietary cartridge called the .401 PowerMag. He did a good deal of caterwauling to the effect that Remington simply stole his cartridge.
Sep 14, 2010
The Naked and the Dread
At first glance you might think the Transportation Security Administration has decided there's something infinitely creepy about having a guy look through your clothes, at your short hairs, bumps, and dangles. Suspend that visionary idea. It may be that the new full body scanner software is just cheaper.
Ostensibly stung by criticism of naked scans of your daughter as you and the family fly to Grandma's for Thanksgiving, TSA is touting a new experiment in body-scanner software. The gizmo substitutes a clothed generic avatar. It highlights a general body area where there might be contraband. Then comes the frisk.
But a TSA spokesman makes much of the cost savings. The government will not have to go to the expense of having an employee in an isolated room look at your nakedness. That's the TSA sop to citizens bitterly clinging to the notion that it's wrong to have their privates on public display at the check-in line.
But:
The upgrades don’t resolve privacy questions, said Rotenberg, whose Washington-based group objects to the use of the devices as a primary screening tool. The agency may someday decide it wanted to record passenger images or link scan results to traveler names, he said.
Coffee break at 612 South 12th Street in Arlington: "Hey, Art, ya wanna look at some naked people? How 'bout some of them wise-ass blog people always giving us crap? We can use the HD upgrade and make a list of the shorties and flatties and ...".
Ostensibly stung by criticism of naked scans of your daughter as you and the family fly to Grandma's for Thanksgiving, TSA is touting a new experiment in body-scanner software. The gizmo substitutes a clothed generic avatar. It highlights a general body area where there might be contraband. Then comes the frisk.
But a TSA spokesman makes much of the cost savings. The government will not have to go to the expense of having an employee in an isolated room look at your nakedness. That's the TSA sop to citizens bitterly clinging to the notion that it's wrong to have their privates on public display at the check-in line.
But:
The upgrades don’t resolve privacy questions, said Rotenberg, whose Washington-based group objects to the use of the devices as a primary screening tool. The agency may someday decide it wanted to record passenger images or link scan results to traveler names, he said.
Coffee break at 612 South 12th Street in Arlington: "Hey, Art, ya wanna look at some naked people? How 'bout some of them wise-ass blog people always giving us crap? We can use the HD upgrade and make a list of the shorties and flatties and ...".
Sep 1, 2010
Live-blogging stupid and expensive fantasies
I am off to town to ask the price of a Willys Jeep, a CJ2A, I think. It's already haze gray. It is not a total rust bucket. I don't know if it runs and/or drives.
I have a dream. Except my stencils would say U.S.S. Henderson. Or maybe Desron 5.
I hope the price is prima facie prohibitive, otherwise I may be setting myself up for the automotive screwing of the century.
EDIT: Damn. The price is in that treacherous sea between the Cape of Slight Overprice the Straits of Laughing Out Loud.
Lord, give me the strength to say "No thank you." after the close eyeball and test drive tomorrow evening.
I have a dream. Except my stencils would say U.S.S. Henderson. Or maybe Desron 5.
I hope the price is prima facie prohibitive, otherwise I may be setting myself up for the automotive screwing of the century.
EDIT: Damn. The price is in that treacherous sea between the Cape of Slight Overprice the Straits of Laughing Out Loud.
Lord, give me the strength to say "No thank you." after the close eyeball and test drive tomorrow evening.
Aug 29, 2010
BAD Geek. Bad. Go to your Kennel!
Eschewing scatology is noble, but some things demand strong language.
First the USNA decides American naval officers don't need to practice celestial navigation. Then Morse Code is declared a quaint historical relic. But the OED?
This shit has got to stop.
.
First the USNA decides American naval officers don't need to practice celestial navigation. Then Morse Code is declared a quaint historical relic. But the OED?
This shit has got to stop.
.
Aug 14, 2010
Me and Matt Helm
Me and Matt won the Cold War, he with his pre-war Colt Woodsman, me with my Rollei spy camera. He used Winchester Super Speeds. I used Tri-X pushed to 1000. Matt covered me while I gathered the secrets of Lubyanka and vanquished the Red Foe. The reason we haven't whipped the Islamonazis yet is the unobtainability of proper film.
Jun 21, 2010
It's always nice to start a day smiling at a well-turned phrase.
Today's grin, about when worlds collude, comes courtesy of Roberta, who, by the way, is a dependably dab hand at the art.
The post is about screwy flying things, and you science fiction fans will like it. Me? The Piper Cub, the DC3, and the F-86. No other aircraft is required in reality or in fantasy.
.
Today's grin, about when worlds collude, comes courtesy of Roberta, who, by the way, is a dependably dab hand at the art.
The post is about screwy flying things, and you science fiction fans will like it. Me? The Piper Cub, the DC3, and the F-86. No other aircraft is required in reality or in fantasy.
.
Apr 28, 2010
Reloading note
No matter how cheap they are, resist the impulse to acquire any GI .30-06 brass made in Denver in 1942 (Den 42) . I have fought government primer crimps and tight pockets for years, usually with enough success to create good loads with only moderate effort using a simple reamer with a radius grind.
No so this stuff. An hour of trying put me in a foul mood for most of the afternoon, and I finally dumped about 300 of them in a low spot I'm trying to fill over by the maple trees. It's almost as if they were re-specked with remarkably undersized pockets.
Also and more happily: It is very pleasant to run across four decks of large rifle primers you forgot you had.
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