I'll depend on you folks for an eclipse report. It's strictly IFR here with ground visibility less than three miles.
In return, I'll pass along my observations if I happen to spot naked blue people dancing around my oak trees in the morning.
Dec 20, 2010
Anyone seen my Coppertone?
About this time Kurt was posting this gem from one of the East Anglia climate frauds:
"Children just aren't going to know what snow is," he said.
...two other things were happening.
The Eurozoners were still digging around in drifts, trying to find their Airbuses, and I was trying to get artsy-craftsie with:
Al, we still gotcher your Glow Ball warming hanging.
"Children just aren't going to know what snow is," he said.
...two other things were happening.
The Eurozoners were still digging around in drifts, trying to find their Airbuses, and I was trying to get artsy-craftsie with:
Al, we still gotcher your Glow Ball warming hanging.
....has always been at war with Eastasia
Support your local Telescreen.
Genuflect to your new "state fusion center." It seeks to know you better than God does.
And, for Heaven's sake, do nothing suspicious.
The Washington Post is doing a series on federal, state, and local police lust to put you, me, and the other 330 million of us under the microscope.
A trip to WalMart (which is cooperating with the snoops) for a bag of rose fertilizer and a gallon of kerosene for your shop heater gets you -- or in due course will get you -- a place in the database of suspected terrorist ANFO freaks.
"At the same time that the FBI is expanding its West Virginia database, it is building a vast repository controlled by people who work in a top-secret vault on the fourth floor of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building in Washington. This one stores the profiles of tens of thousands of Americans and legal residents who are not accused of any crime. What they have done is appear to be acting suspiciously to a town sheriff, a traffic cop or even a neighbor."
The cost is hideous, tens or hundreds of billions; we're in the dark because, of course, telling us what we're paying would alert Osama that we're trying to catch his acolytes.
So far the universal Telescreen seems to be quite effective in nabbing Sad Sacks with outstanding traffic warrants. And tracking the vacationer who photographs a Staten Island ferry boat.
Folks, the WaPo piece is long. It is worth your time.
And it is actionable if your habits are as suspicious as mine. At least three times this year I have entered WalMart in the deep dark of late night to purchase munitions to fit my BL22, (a weapon fully capable of killing at 100 yards). There is no place in the Miniluv database for a lame explanation about disliking crowds. So, from now on, I'll buy the Federal 550 bulk packs at Noon, in the Darkness thereof.
Genuflect to your new "state fusion center." It seeks to know you better than God does.
And, for Heaven's sake, do nothing suspicious.
The Washington Post is doing a series on federal, state, and local police lust to put you, me, and the other 330 million of us under the microscope.
A trip to WalMart (which is cooperating with the snoops) for a bag of rose fertilizer and a gallon of kerosene for your shop heater gets you -- or in due course will get you -- a place in the database of suspected terrorist ANFO freaks.
"At the same time that the FBI is expanding its West Virginia database, it is building a vast repository controlled by people who work in a top-secret vault on the fourth floor of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building in Washington. This one stores the profiles of tens of thousands of Americans and legal residents who are not accused of any crime. What they have done is appear to be acting suspiciously to a town sheriff, a traffic cop or even a neighbor."
The cost is hideous, tens or hundreds of billions; we're in the dark because, of course, telling us what we're paying would alert Osama that we're trying to catch his acolytes.
So far the universal Telescreen seems to be quite effective in nabbing Sad Sacks with outstanding traffic warrants. And tracking the vacationer who photographs a Staten Island ferry boat.
Folks, the WaPo piece is long. It is worth your time.
And it is actionable if your habits are as suspicious as mine. At least three times this year I have entered WalMart in the deep dark of late night to purchase munitions to fit my BL22, (a weapon fully capable of killing at 100 yards). There is no place in the Miniluv database for a lame explanation about disliking crowds. So, from now on, I'll buy the Federal 550 bulk packs at Noon, in the Darkness thereof.
Dec 19, 2010
About that foreign weenie...
Every time truth requires me to admit to using a 9mm Eurowimp as my bread and butter piece, I feel compelled to get all defensive about it.
I loopholed the 59 cheap, as it should have been. It was intended to be trading stock, but my vestigial conscience denied permission to foist it off until it could be used as intended. So I disassembled, deburred, throated, and polished the internals. Most significantly I ground enough metal from the frame to permit the trigger to go back far enough to trip the sear every time. This is the truth, and I can still display the tool marks to doubters.
About the time I finished making the damned thing work right, I got sucked into the high-capacity vortex which was just gathering speed in those days.
"Look," I thought, "with 13 rounds in one magazine, I am reasonably well covered for any threat I can imagine, even if I can't immediately put my hands on the spare."
It remains a valid point, even after a guy becomes totally disenchanted with the 9mm as a defense round. (You can hedge your bet with zippy hand loads, and I do.) Besides, I really like shooting the thing.
But the controlling point is that my life has become almost as threat-free as a modern American life can be. On the rare, all but nonexistent, occasions when I don't t think that Pollyanna-ish view is justified, the pipsqueak goes into the safe, and out comes one of Mr. Browning's (PBUH) 1911s in the decisive .45 ACP.
I do not urge this solution on others.
I loopholed the 59 cheap, as it should have been. It was intended to be trading stock, but my vestigial conscience denied permission to foist it off until it could be used as intended. So I disassembled, deburred, throated, and polished the internals. Most significantly I ground enough metal from the frame to permit the trigger to go back far enough to trip the sear every time. This is the truth, and I can still display the tool marks to doubters.
About the time I finished making the damned thing work right, I got sucked into the high-capacity vortex which was just gathering speed in those days.
"Look," I thought, "with 13 rounds in one magazine, I am reasonably well covered for any threat I can imagine, even if I can't immediately put my hands on the spare."
It remains a valid point, even after a guy becomes totally disenchanted with the 9mm as a defense round. (You can hedge your bet with zippy hand loads, and I do.) Besides, I really like shooting the thing.
But the controlling point is that my life has become almost as threat-free as a modern American life can be. On the rare, all but nonexistent, occasions when I don't t think that Pollyanna-ish view is justified, the pipsqueak goes into the safe, and out comes one of Mr. Browning's (PBUH) 1911s in the decisive .45 ACP.
I do not urge this solution on others.
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