About a month ago, I penned my disgust for the media's unending coverage of no-talent train-wreck Lindsay Lohan and her never-ending drama. My theory was (and still is) that the media moguls choose to bury us under this stuff every day to keep us from noticing and disapproving of Obama and the Democrats' bungling and corruption.
It's a sound theory and I'll stand by it. It's undisputed that almost every media outlet in America was an unbiased Obama supporter during the last election and now they're trying to distract us from his failings in a lame attempt to save what little of their own credibility they have left.
And now, with TWO Democrats--Rangel and Waters--facing ethics trials and the Gulf oil spill still not cleaned up, the media is trying extra hard to push the negative (for Dems) news off of the front page by giving us not just Lindsay Loser but another freak named Snooki.
Again, I don't want to know about these people. I don't want my brain to be filled with anything about them. I try to avoid it, but every single news source seems to want to shove this crap in our faces 24/7. Lindsay and Snooki; Snooki and Lindsay. Watch them cry, fight, get drunk, fall down, puke and go to jail. Why would I want to watch this? I've had more than one ex-girlfriend who could (and did) do this stuff with monotonous regularity. (And I loved them all for it.)
But the media...they want us to watch this so we won't notice Obama's failings or the fact that about every third Democrat in Congress (Rangel, Waters, Kerry, Sestak and others too numerous to list here)is having some sort of an ethical problem just three months before we vote on keeping them around. It's the old "Hey, look at those drunk chicks instead of our economy!" distraction.
Well I've had more than enough of it, and more than enough of Lindsay Lohan and Snooki, too.
So I propose one last big media event--one certain to please and amuse most of America: A knife fight--to the death--between Lindsay and Snooki. It'll be live on pay-per-view, and the rules are simple: Both get locked in a cage and only one comes out, but not until the other has assumed room temperature permanently. I don't even care which one wins, because the real winner will be the American public as there will be 50% less useless drama thrust into our faces disguised as "news" after this fight's over.
Oh, and the survivor? She has to follow Barack Obama around everywhere he goes for the next three months, thus ensuring that the whole world will see everything that he says and does between now and the next election.
Am I a genius, or what?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
K9 Home Invader Strikes
Lagniappe may be a bit off his game these days, but he sure hasn't stopped playing it.
Today I went over to my neighbor's house to help him fix something that he broke right after I sold it to him. While I was over there, Lagniappe decided that he also wanted to be over there so he knocked the baby gate off my deck stairs and came over to join us.
Darn dog.
As I was taking him back home though, he saw one of my neighbor's many cats and took off after it. This of course started a frenzy of cat-chasing all around the neighbor's house since they have literally dozens of feral cats in their yard that they feed. For a few minutes, Lagniappe was back in his element, chasing cat after cat up various trees. Then suddenly, he was gone.
Where'd he go? I called a few times, but he didn't come. I listened, but I couldn't hear him pounding through the woods like he does when he's on one of his "cat reduction" missions.
Then I heard a voice from up the hill shout: "Hey! Whoever's dog this is, he's in my HOUSE!"
Dammit.
I grabbed my keys and drove up around the block. I knew which house it was going to be because up until last year, the guy who used to rent there had another German Shepherd and Lagniappe used to go up there frequently to play with him. But that guy had moved out, and the house had been vacant until just recently. I hadn't met the new tenant yet, but thanks to Lagniappe, today was the day for that.
When I got up there, I met a rather nervous fellow named Blaine, who was, as is typical for this area, slightly inebriated. As I was introducing myself to him, Lagniappe came out of the open basement door of his house and trotted up to me. I opened the back of my SUV and told him to get in and he did, naturally with that smug look on his face that said: "yell at me or beat me if you want to, because I had so much fun that it was worth it." I just sighed and closed the tailgate on him.
According to Blaine, he was just sitting on his patio, minding his own business and having a beer, when Lagniappe burst out of the brush and just ran right past him and into the open door of his house. Not knowing Lagniappe, he was afraid to go in and confront him, and Lagniappe wasn't all too interested in coming back out until I showed up, probably because he was looking for his old buddy who had always been in there before. I explained things as best I could and hopefully smoothed the situation over, but believe me, this is not the best way to meet the new neighbors, even in West Virginia.
Lagniappe, for his part, remained smug until we got home, at which point he went up the stairs, emptied his water bowl, then headed for his dog bed, happy as a clam.
Dogs...
Today I went over to my neighbor's house to help him fix something that he broke right after I sold it to him. While I was over there, Lagniappe decided that he also wanted to be over there so he knocked the baby gate off my deck stairs and came over to join us.
Darn dog.
As I was taking him back home though, he saw one of my neighbor's many cats and took off after it. This of course started a frenzy of cat-chasing all around the neighbor's house since they have literally dozens of feral cats in their yard that they feed. For a few minutes, Lagniappe was back in his element, chasing cat after cat up various trees. Then suddenly, he was gone.
Where'd he go? I called a few times, but he didn't come. I listened, but I couldn't hear him pounding through the woods like he does when he's on one of his "cat reduction" missions.
Then I heard a voice from up the hill shout: "Hey! Whoever's dog this is, he's in my HOUSE!"
Dammit.
I grabbed my keys and drove up around the block. I knew which house it was going to be because up until last year, the guy who used to rent there had another German Shepherd and Lagniappe used to go up there frequently to play with him. But that guy had moved out, and the house had been vacant until just recently. I hadn't met the new tenant yet, but thanks to Lagniappe, today was the day for that.
When I got up there, I met a rather nervous fellow named Blaine, who was, as is typical for this area, slightly inebriated. As I was introducing myself to him, Lagniappe came out of the open basement door of his house and trotted up to me. I opened the back of my SUV and told him to get in and he did, naturally with that smug look on his face that said: "yell at me or beat me if you want to, because I had so much fun that it was worth it." I just sighed and closed the tailgate on him.
According to Blaine, he was just sitting on his patio, minding his own business and having a beer, when Lagniappe burst out of the brush and just ran right past him and into the open door of his house. Not knowing Lagniappe, he was afraid to go in and confront him, and Lagniappe wasn't all too interested in coming back out until I showed up, probably because he was looking for his old buddy who had always been in there before. I explained things as best I could and hopefully smoothed the situation over, but believe me, this is not the best way to meet the new neighbors, even in West Virginia.
Lagniappe, for his part, remained smug until we got home, at which point he went up the stairs, emptied his water bowl, then headed for his dog bed, happy as a clam.
Dogs...
Burglar sues victim over rough arrest
And this is why we need meaningful tort reform. Only in the American court system can frivolous suits like this be filed without cost or penalty, forcing the victims to pay lawyers' fees and other charges which they don't get back even after the suit is dismissed.
ST. PETERSBURG — One October day in 2007, a homeless man broke into a car and stole a bike.What we need are two new laws, one prohibiting criminals from bringing suit against anyone connected with their crime, and another one to decriminalize the severe beating of criminals during the arrest process, at least in circumstances like this one.
He didn't get very far.
Within minutes, that man, Michael Dupree, was caught trying to sell the bike down the street. He was arrested and sent to jail. Now, he wants payback.
Dupree, who is serving a 12-year prison sentence for burglary and cocaine possession, has filed a lawsuit against three men who helped police take him down.
Dupree says he's the victim of a rough citizens arrest, and was assaulted and battered by the men. He is seeking $500,000 and punitive damages.
"It's laughable," said Anthony McKoy, one of the men being sued. "It's a waste of taxpayer money."
McKoy says he remembers Dupree well.
He says that on the morning of Oct. 11, 2007, he was working at his business on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Street S.
At some point, he went into his office for something. When he came back, he noticed that the passenger window of one of his vehicles was broken.
He quickly spotted Dupree, who had a red bike that had been inside the vehicle.
McKoy and two other men gave chase. They found Dupree hiding naked a few hundred feet away. McKoy says he put Dupree in a shoulder hold until officers arrived.
According to a police report, Dupree, was homeless at the time. He has a criminal record dating back to 1990.
Dupree told police that a guy had given him the bike and he went to the corner store and was trying to sell it.
Then, he said, McKoy and the other men jumped him, pointed a gun at him, placed a knee painfully on his spine and handcuffed him. Dupree claims in his suit, which he filed without a lawyer, that the take-down "resulted in permanent disabilities and psychological disorders which the Plaintiff continues to suffer."
Dupree was convicted of burglary in 2008. He is serving his sentence at the Apalachee Correctional Institution in Sneads. He pleaded no contest to the drug charge and is serving a concurrent sentence of nearly three years.
McKoy said he couldn't believe it when he was served with Dupree's lawsuit earlier this month.
"I thought it was a joke," McKoy said. "I'm the victim."
McKoy said he expects the suit to be dismissed.
"What gall," he said. "I guess time in prison just makes you go crazy."
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Seriously?
BETHLEHEM, Pa. (AP) - An eastern Pennsylvania woman has been cited for harassment after her son told police she cleaned the bathroom with his toothbrush, then returned it to its holder. Police in Lower Saucon said 52-year-old Deborah Woist decided on July 18 that a bathroom inside her home needed a good scrubbing because it hadn't been cleaned in two months.
Her 26-year-old son, Justin Novack, said the scrubbing was done with his toothbrush. He said his mother put it away when she was done.
Novack then called police, claiming his mother applied feces to his toothbrush.
So let's look at this:
1. 26 years old and still lives with Mom.
2. Calling the police for this? I'm betting that the police are quite familiar with this address and used to being summoned there to referee for these idiots and otherwise run their lives for them.
3. I suspect that his first clue as to Mommy Dearest's deed was...the taste.
4. I'll bet you any money that I know who they both voted for in the last election...and I'll even bet that this guy and/or his mom own and still wear "Obama" t-shirts.
5. Safe bet she still hasn't kicked him out of her house.
Cooking with dogs
So this evening, I decided to make some spaghetti. Both Lagniappe and I enjoy a good spaghetti.
First I started some meat browning and boiled some water, then I tossed some dried spaghetti noodles in. This is when I realized that I had no spaghetti sauce. Nothing in jars, nothing in packets...nothing.
"Now what?" I asked, looking at Lagniappe. Lagniappe just looked up into the pantry, and there on the shelf were cans of tomato paste and a packet of chili mix.
"You think we should try it with chili mix?" I asked him. When he didn't say no, I opened the packet and dumped it into the meat with a can of paste.
"I dunno, dog," I said. It looks kinda dark. What else can we add?
Lagniappe looked up to the spice cupboard, so on his advice, I tossed in some crushed red peppers, some tobasco, some garlic powder and some hot sauce.
"It really doesn't look much better," I told him.
Lagniappe was now looking at the refrigerator, so I opened it. Back behind the beer, there were some cherry tomatoes in there that a nice neighbor had given us. "Good idea, boy," I told him. I chopped a few up and added them. I saw that Lagniappe was still looking into the open fridge, so I looked in there again too and saw a packet of Swiss Cheese. I checked it and noticed that it was almost a month past it's "sell by" date.
"Use it or lose it, eh, boy?" It still smelled ok so I used that to top the chili spaghetti after dishing it up.
There's nothing like a good spaghetti...and that was definitely nothing like a good spaghetti. To be honest, it was about half way between "lousy" and "completely foul".
Lagniappe seemed to like his portion, though. So that's a "thumbs down" and a "paws up" for using chili mix to make spaghetti sauce.
First I started some meat browning and boiled some water, then I tossed some dried spaghetti noodles in. This is when I realized that I had no spaghetti sauce. Nothing in jars, nothing in packets...nothing.
"Now what?" I asked, looking at Lagniappe. Lagniappe just looked up into the pantry, and there on the shelf were cans of tomato paste and a packet of chili mix.
"You think we should try it with chili mix?" I asked him. When he didn't say no, I opened the packet and dumped it into the meat with a can of paste.
"I dunno, dog," I said. It looks kinda dark. What else can we add?
Lagniappe looked up to the spice cupboard, so on his advice, I tossed in some crushed red peppers, some tobasco, some garlic powder and some hot sauce.
"It really doesn't look much better," I told him.
Lagniappe was now looking at the refrigerator, so I opened it. Back behind the beer, there were some cherry tomatoes in there that a nice neighbor had given us. "Good idea, boy," I told him. I chopped a few up and added them. I saw that Lagniappe was still looking into the open fridge, so I looked in there again too and saw a packet of Swiss Cheese. I checked it and noticed that it was almost a month past it's "sell by" date.
"Use it or lose it, eh, boy?" It still smelled ok so I used that to top the chili spaghetti after dishing it up.
There's nothing like a good spaghetti...and that was definitely nothing like a good spaghetti. To be honest, it was about half way between "lousy" and "completely foul".
Lagniappe seemed to like his portion, though. So that's a "thumbs down" and a "paws up" for using chili mix to make spaghetti sauce.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Katrina refugees--a prelude of things to come?
I heard something interesting on the radio today as I ran my errands. A man who lived north of the Gulf Coast during Hurricane Katrina talked about the waves of refugees pouring into his community after the storm, both refugees from rural Mississippi and urban New Orleans. The man was part of the disaster relief operation and worked closely with the refugees when they arrived. He was quick to contrast the difference between the majority of those who came out of rural Mississippi and New Orleans, a difference that cut across racial and color lines. He said that the people from Mississippi arrived first, having had the common sense and foresight to evacuate ahead of the storm. These people were grateful for the shelter and the financial help they received, but most of them wanted only to get back to their homes and businesses as quickly as possible and get everything repaired and rebuilt.
Most of the New Orleans refugees, by contrast, were deposited in his town by government transport after they were rescued post-storm. They hadn't heeded the evacuation warnings and had literally sat around doing nothing until it was too late, at which point they descended on the Superdome en masse, expecting the government to just take car of them. When that place quickly became uninhabitable, the government moved them out to communities like the one where this speaker lived and placed them in the local schools and churches. But unlike the refugees from Mississippi, these new arrivals weren't terribly concerned with getting back home. They were content to just live in the schools and churches for as long as they could, and they were a lot less grateful than the Mississippians--in fact many of them were downright demanding when it came to getting food, clothing, money and other things. These people were accustomed to getting everything from the government by way of entitlement, and in their eyes, they had all this stuff coming by right. And when the government could not meet their demands, they got upset, they acted out, they stole, and they verbally and sometimes physically abused the local people who were volunteering to help them. Many of these people were still around long after the last Mississippian was back fixing up his or her home or business, because they were waiting for the government to "do something" for them. They had no plans, because they had no plan. Period.
The point that the speaker was trying to make--and I wish that I'd caught his name before I lost the station--was that these refugees from New Orleans had grown up dependent on government programs and government assistance all their lives; they didn't know how to get by without the government, and when it suddenly wasn't able to provide for them like they were used to being provided for, they got very ugly very fast.
These days, there are a lot of people who are dependent on the government for their daily bread and the roof over their head. And the numbers of such people are growing even as the government is beginning to show signs of faltering and eventually not being able to sustain all of the people who have come to rely on it to such a degree that they can't get by without it. Come the day that the government is no longer able to hand cash and food stamps to every no-job-having lay-about, we may quickly see more than angry letters to the editors or scattered protests in the street--we may see riots and anarchy and all-out attacks on those who have things by mobs of those who don't. At that point, it'll be too late to do anything other than respond with buck-and-ball and use massive amounts of (government and private) force to restore order. That being clear, wouldn't it make sense to start reducing the numbers of people dependent on government instead of increasing them? Shouldn't our government be focusing on ways to get people off of the welfare rolls instead of trying to make more people eligible? Shouldn't we be focusing on removing unskilled illegal aliens from our communities rather than trying to give them citizenship and making them eligible for welfare benefits as well? Shouldn't our government be reducing taxes and regulations on businesses and getting out of the way of investment and job creation?
And shouldn't the fact that the Obama Administration is currently doing none of these things give us all cause to worry?
The parasites from New Orleans that made live miserable in so many host communities after Katrina were just a small segment of the non-producer and nanny-state recipient population of our country. If just those from one city caused so much trouble, how much trouble can we expect them all to cause if our current government doesn't get a handle on the problem instead of trying to exploit it for political gain?
While you're thinking about that, I'm off to the ammo store. Gotta stock up.
Most of the New Orleans refugees, by contrast, were deposited in his town by government transport after they were rescued post-storm. They hadn't heeded the evacuation warnings and had literally sat around doing nothing until it was too late, at which point they descended on the Superdome en masse, expecting the government to just take car of them. When that place quickly became uninhabitable, the government moved them out to communities like the one where this speaker lived and placed them in the local schools and churches. But unlike the refugees from Mississippi, these new arrivals weren't terribly concerned with getting back home. They were content to just live in the schools and churches for as long as they could, and they were a lot less grateful than the Mississippians--in fact many of them were downright demanding when it came to getting food, clothing, money and other things. These people were accustomed to getting everything from the government by way of entitlement, and in their eyes, they had all this stuff coming by right. And when the government could not meet their demands, they got upset, they acted out, they stole, and they verbally and sometimes physically abused the local people who were volunteering to help them. Many of these people were still around long after the last Mississippian was back fixing up his or her home or business, because they were waiting for the government to "do something" for them. They had no plans, because they had no plan. Period.
The point that the speaker was trying to make--and I wish that I'd caught his name before I lost the station--was that these refugees from New Orleans had grown up dependent on government programs and government assistance all their lives; they didn't know how to get by without the government, and when it suddenly wasn't able to provide for them like they were used to being provided for, they got very ugly very fast.
These days, there are a lot of people who are dependent on the government for their daily bread and the roof over their head. And the numbers of such people are growing even as the government is beginning to show signs of faltering and eventually not being able to sustain all of the people who have come to rely on it to such a degree that they can't get by without it. Come the day that the government is no longer able to hand cash and food stamps to every no-job-having lay-about, we may quickly see more than angry letters to the editors or scattered protests in the street--we may see riots and anarchy and all-out attacks on those who have things by mobs of those who don't. At that point, it'll be too late to do anything other than respond with buck-and-ball and use massive amounts of (government and private) force to restore order. That being clear, wouldn't it make sense to start reducing the numbers of people dependent on government instead of increasing them? Shouldn't our government be focusing on ways to get people off of the welfare rolls instead of trying to make more people eligible? Shouldn't we be focusing on removing unskilled illegal aliens from our communities rather than trying to give them citizenship and making them eligible for welfare benefits as well? Shouldn't our government be reducing taxes and regulations on businesses and getting out of the way of investment and job creation?
And shouldn't the fact that the Obama Administration is currently doing none of these things give us all cause to worry?
The parasites from New Orleans that made live miserable in so many host communities after Katrina were just a small segment of the non-producer and nanny-state recipient population of our country. If just those from one city caused so much trouble, how much trouble can we expect them all to cause if our current government doesn't get a handle on the problem instead of trying to exploit it for political gain?
While you're thinking about that, I'm off to the ammo store. Gotta stock up.
New business plan
So lately I've been mulling a new entrepreneurial career path.
My latest idea is simplicity itself. I plan on selling "tank insurance".
That's right. I offer each and every resident of this community the opportunity to buy one of my "tank insurance" policies. For a mere $200 a year, you get a yard sign and decals for a car's rear window. (Extra cars can be insured for $50.00 each.) Persons purchasing such a policy and displaying the stickers and yard signs in accordance with the instructions provided with said signs and stickers can sleep safe knowing that their cars and houses will probably not be crushed by a tank.
Oh, and of course I also need to go and buy a Russian Army surplus T-72 tank from these people, strictly for advertising purposes, of course.
Once I get the tank back here to rural West Virginia and people start seeing it running up and down these narrow mountain roads, I have a hunch that my policies might prove quite popular indeed.
Neighbors! Don't let THIS happen to YOU! Buy our new Tank Insurance policy today before something bad happens!
I'm having my legal guy look this over, of course, but I'm not seeing any problems with it. What say you?
My latest idea is simplicity itself. I plan on selling "tank insurance".
That's right. I offer each and every resident of this community the opportunity to buy one of my "tank insurance" policies. For a mere $200 a year, you get a yard sign and decals for a car's rear window. (Extra cars can be insured for $50.00 each.) Persons purchasing such a policy and displaying the stickers and yard signs in accordance with the instructions provided with said signs and stickers can sleep safe knowing that their cars and houses will probably not be crushed by a tank.
Oh, and of course I also need to go and buy a Russian Army surplus T-72 tank from these people, strictly for advertising purposes, of course.
Once I get the tank back here to rural West Virginia and people start seeing it running up and down these narrow mountain roads, I have a hunch that my policies might prove quite popular indeed.
Neighbors! Don't let THIS happen to YOU! Buy our new Tank Insurance policy today before something bad happens!
I'm having my legal guy look this over, of course, but I'm not seeing any problems with it. What say you?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Lagniappe update
OK, so he doesn't walk so well. He still swims good though, so we went out swimming together today. For a while, I threw sticks into the river and he swam out to get them.
He doesn't bring them back to me, though--he never has. He takes each one to his own little spot on the bank and stacks them all up...sort of a strategic stick repository. He then guards that pile of sticks against all comers, me included. Those are HIS sticks, dammit.
So a game of "fetch" requires not one stick like you'd use for a normal dog, but a whole bundle of them; he lives to go chase them but you never, ever get them back.
Today we played another game, one I call "reverse fetch". This one works with me swimming out a bit as Lagniappe sits on the shore guarding his sticks. I dive down to the bottom of the river and find another stick, and when I surface and wave it so that he can see it, he plunges in and comes paddling after me to get it (because "all your sticks are belong to us"). I swim away from him as best I can while holding the stick out of water, but eventually he grabs it and a game of Tug O' War ensues, usually ending with me getting clawed on bare skin before I let him have it. Then he swims for his stick stash and I chase him and try to grab it back. We can do this until we're both tired.
And here he is, contentedly sitting guard on his stash o' sticks. Anyone but me approaching will be barked at; if I approach, he cries and tries to run off with as many sticks as he can pick up at once.
He doesn't bring them back to me, though--he never has. He takes each one to his own little spot on the bank and stacks them all up...sort of a strategic stick repository. He then guards that pile of sticks against all comers, me included. Those are HIS sticks, dammit.
So a game of "fetch" requires not one stick like you'd use for a normal dog, but a whole bundle of them; he lives to go chase them but you never, ever get them back.
Today we played another game, one I call "reverse fetch". This one works with me swimming out a bit as Lagniappe sits on the shore guarding his sticks. I dive down to the bottom of the river and find another stick, and when I surface and wave it so that he can see it, he plunges in and comes paddling after me to get it (because "all your sticks are belong to us"). I swim away from him as best I can while holding the stick out of water, but eventually he grabs it and a game of Tug O' War ensues, usually ending with me getting clawed on bare skin before I let him have it. Then he swims for his stick stash and I chase him and try to grab it back. We can do this until we're both tired.
And here he is, contentedly sitting guard on his stash o' sticks. Anyone but me approaching will be barked at; if I approach, he cries and tries to run off with as many sticks as he can pick up at once.
In cheerier news...criminals are still stupid.
Criminals are still stupid.
So these three brain surgeons eat a meal then run out without paying, but two of them leave their purses and ID behind. Then they return and ask for their purses and ID back.
Maybe they just thought that Obama was going to pay for their waffles.
SPRINGFIELD, Mo. | A dine-and-dash escapade in Springfield went bad when two of the fleeing dinners left their purses behind.
No charges had been filed as of midweek against the three women who ran from a Waffle House restaurant Sunday morning without paying their $39 bill.
The general manager said the women seemed intoxicated or under the influence of drugs. A short time after fleeing, one of the women returned to the store and demanded the purses.
The manager says he told the women she needed to wait for police to arrive, but she left. A police report says the purses contained identifying documents, along with what appeared to be a check stub from another Waffle House in Arkansas.
So these three brain surgeons eat a meal then run out without paying, but two of them leave their purses and ID behind. Then they return and ask for their purses and ID back.
Maybe they just thought that Obama was going to pay for their waffles.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Damn...
I took Lagniappe out for a walk tonight--just a short walk around the block to keep his hind legs exercised. We've done this walk a hundred times--it's only about a mile--and I swear that it wasn't so long ago that I was the one who might or might not make the whole trek back when I was just learning to walk again after losing my foot. Back then he capered along without a care in the world, motivating me and even pulling me up the hills. But lately he's been struggling a bit and I've been the one trying to motivate him. After all of the long walks and hikes we've taken together over the years, this one's never amounted to more than half an hour's pleasant diversion in the evening. Until tonight.
Lagniappe's hind legs gave out on him half way around and he collapsed. When I checked him closely, I saw that the tops of both feet had been ground down to raw flesh from dragging on the asphalt and gravel. My once tireless and invincible friend is now so far down the myleopathy trail that even this short walk is too much for him now. Thankfully a kind neighbor was willing to drive him (and me) back to the Lair. But there won't be any more evening walks together now. Those are over now, as of tonight.
It's progressing so fast and he's still so young. And there's nothing I can do for him.
It's not supposed to be like this.
Lagniappe's hind legs gave out on him half way around and he collapsed. When I checked him closely, I saw that the tops of both feet had been ground down to raw flesh from dragging on the asphalt and gravel. My once tireless and invincible friend is now so far down the myleopathy trail that even this short walk is too much for him now. Thankfully a kind neighbor was willing to drive him (and me) back to the Lair. But there won't be any more evening walks together now. Those are over now, as of tonight.
It's progressing so fast and he's still so young. And there's nothing I can do for him.
It's not supposed to be like this.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Success! Marlin 1894 is operational again.
So I went out to the range today and test-fired my Marlin Model 1894 .357 Magnum lever-action--the one with the design-flaw-caused problem that I've written about here and here.
I'm happy to announce that it passed a 120-round test without a single hiccup, firing magazine tubes of .357 Magnum rounds, .38 Special rounds, and combinations of both loaded together.
I finally feel confident to start carrying it afield on my hiking and backpacking forays along with my Smith and Wesson Model 66.
It's kind of nice to have a rifle/pistol combo that utilizes the same cartridges and I do love these two guns.
And of course, it would hardly be a shooting day without some contact with the range nazi--I mean the range master. He came over as I was finishing up and pointed out the brand new signs posted that say "No Rapid Fire Or Double Taps."
Sigh.
I told him that I practice "sustained fire", not "rapid fire" (whatever that is) and pointed out the fact that all of my shots landed nicely on the targets where they were aimed. I also explained that I do not shoot "double taps". I practice failure-to-stop drills in which I shoot two to the chest and one to the head...a "triple tap", if you will. And since the sign doesn't seem to ban those...
He still says that I need to slow it down. Or else. Some people just suck all of the fun out of the air.
Still, I don't think that I shoot all that fast. I mean, it's not as if I'm Lucas McCain or anything...
(But I'm working on it.)
I'm happy to announce that it passed a 120-round test without a single hiccup, firing magazine tubes of .357 Magnum rounds, .38 Special rounds, and combinations of both loaded together.
I finally feel confident to start carrying it afield on my hiking and backpacking forays along with my Smith and Wesson Model 66.
It's kind of nice to have a rifle/pistol combo that utilizes the same cartridges and I do love these two guns.
And of course, it would hardly be a shooting day without some contact with the range nazi--I mean the range master. He came over as I was finishing up and pointed out the brand new signs posted that say "No Rapid Fire Or Double Taps."
Sigh.
I told him that I practice "sustained fire", not "rapid fire" (whatever that is) and pointed out the fact that all of my shots landed nicely on the targets where they were aimed. I also explained that I do not shoot "double taps". I practice failure-to-stop drills in which I shoot two to the chest and one to the head...a "triple tap", if you will. And since the sign doesn't seem to ban those...
He still says that I need to slow it down. Or else. Some people just suck all of the fun out of the air.
Still, I don't think that I shoot all that fast. I mean, it's not as if I'm Lucas McCain or anything...
(But I'm working on it.)
Monday, July 19, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Bug-Out Bag...Got One?
At this point, I'm guessing that many of my regular readers will nod and say "yep, sure do." A few others will claim that they meant to put one together, or used to have one (get it in gear, slappies...) and the remaining few will ask "what's a bug-out bag?"
Simply put, a Bug-out bag, or BOB, is a day-pack filled with 72 hours' worth of supplies--food, water, medicine, basic of shelter, and whatever environmental gear that you need for your unique operating environment. Small enough to pack in your car or stash at your workplace, it has one purpose--to help get you out of Dodge when things go bad. These "bad times" may come in the form of a severe storm, a major power outage, or what some idiots like to refer to as a "man-caused disaster (terrorist incident). Basically the power's out, your car's not running or the roads are all shut down, and you're either stranded waiting for things to improve, or else you're a refugee on the road. In any case, in times like that, it's nice (crucial, actually) to have access to a few days' worth of nutritional food, clean water, and other essential items that might mean the difference between you making it through the crisis or not.
My own pack is a simple enough one, but it serves as a good example of what you might want to consider in yours, assuming that you don't already have one. For food, I have six Mountain Home dried meals--just add boiling water and I have lasagna, beef stew, or spaghetti. I also use MRE entrees when I can get them--ideally the food should be compact, light, yet high in useful calories. 1800-2000 calories a day is a good guide. Remember, you may be walking a lot. I also have some beef jerky, some hard candy, and some oatmeal, all of which is light, stores for a long time, and serves as a good tummy filler to supplement and stretch out the basic meals.
My bag is built around a worst-case scenario in which bad things happen while I'm away at one of a couple of places that I regularly have to go, each of which is roughly sixty miles from the Lair. If I can't drive home, and if I can't acquire a bike, I plan on walking it and based on a realistic assessment that I can make roughly 20 miles per day, I should be home in three days' max. Ideally Lagniappe will be holding the fort and protecting my main store of supplies and life'll be good for a few months once I get back there.
So I have my food. I also have basic cooking/eating utensils, an Esbit folding stove and heat tabs, and a small single-burner Coleman Peak One stove with a full tank of white gas that will last me for several hours' use. It's heavy, but if the weather's bad or I have to boil more than a cup of water, it'll be worth it. I also have waterproof/windproof matches and a magnesium bar for back-up. I WILL have fire and heat, no matter the conditions.
Speaking of weather, I have shelter in the form of a GI rain poncho (which doubles as a shelter half), a nice poncho liner (makes a great light sleeping bag) and a disposable rain suit folded into a pack smaller than a deck of cards. Being wet sucks. I plan to stay as dry as possible, whether I'm hunkered down or on the move.
There's a pretty decent first aid kit in a pocket of the pack, too. It has gauze pads, assorted bandages for dressings, slings, splints, etc., gauze rolls, tape, trauma shears...even a couple of occlusive dressings and a few trauma pads. I've also packed an epi pen since I'm allergic to things that sting, and some pain meds--aspirin and something a bit stronger courtesy of one of my surgeon friends. Bad times often bring both increased risk of injury and decreased access to medical treatment so you need to be ready to treat yourself or someone else. I'm ready.
There's a Sawyer water filter in the bag (and a camelback which will let me carry 3 quarts) and chemical tabs which will remove the viruses from water that the filter won't get. Face it--you can't carry three days' worth of water (at least I can't, not at a gallon+ a day minimum) so you need to be able to treat and use any water that you come across. And remember--just because it looks clean, that doesn't mean that it is. Treat it, unless you want to go down with a stomach virus.
Finally, there are the misc. items--solid knife (A K-BAR), a small sharp knife, a compass, a whistle, a flashlight, a small hand-cranked radio, 50' of 550 cord, and for me, one set of replacement liners and socks for my leg to replace damaged ones or to quickly rebuild it before setting out on a sixty-mile hike. I keep some ready cash in my bag, too. Just in case.
This pack all weighs less than 12lbs and fits nicely in a medium daypack in the back of my vehicle. Sitting alongside it is a duffle bag with a change of practical clothing, since I never know what I might be wearing when the time comes. Some nylon BDUs and a change of underwear and clean socks are a bare minimum, and this bag can be re-parked as the climate changes to add cold weather/thermal gear, extra rain protection, and other seasonal items. Snugged in between the two bags: a small free-standing two-person dome tent that I can secure to the pack.
This set-up puts anything that I could possibly need no farther away than my vehicle, with one exception of course: defensive armaments. I did not pack weapons into this kit because I don't like to leave such things in my vehicle unattended, and there are times when I have to turn my vehicle over to others--sch as a mechanic or a valet. Besides, I almost always carry a handgun and extra ammo on my person, so one in the bag would be redundant anyway. And whenever I travel long distances or the threat level is high, there's usually a long rifle temporarily added to the vehicle's storage area. A 1911 or a .357 revolver are handy, but not nearly as handy in some situations as an AR-15 or a FAL. Just know that there could come a situation where you wind up walking away from your vehicle but can't carry a rifle openly. In that case, be prepared to disable that weapon by removing the bolt or some other component to prevent someone else from taking possession of it--it would suck royally to wind up on the wrong end of your own hastily-abandoned rifle, wouldn't it?
Above all, and perhaps the most important thing to have with you, is the survivors' mindset. Without that, all the gear in the world is useless. You have to know without a doubt that no matter what happens, you're going to make it. "Do or do not--there is no try." Truer words were never spoken by any muppet.
Now get out there, build up a bag (or check over the one you've got), and prepare yourself mentally to use it. Sad to say, but with Obama and his band of looters running our country into the ground, we may all need such packs one day soon.
Simply put, a Bug-out bag, or BOB, is a day-pack filled with 72 hours' worth of supplies--food, water, medicine, basic of shelter, and whatever environmental gear that you need for your unique operating environment. Small enough to pack in your car or stash at your workplace, it has one purpose--to help get you out of Dodge when things go bad. These "bad times" may come in the form of a severe storm, a major power outage, or what some idiots like to refer to as a "man-caused disaster (terrorist incident). Basically the power's out, your car's not running or the roads are all shut down, and you're either stranded waiting for things to improve, or else you're a refugee on the road. In any case, in times like that, it's nice (crucial, actually) to have access to a few days' worth of nutritional food, clean water, and other essential items that might mean the difference between you making it through the crisis or not.
My own pack is a simple enough one, but it serves as a good example of what you might want to consider in yours, assuming that you don't already have one. For food, I have six Mountain Home dried meals--just add boiling water and I have lasagna, beef stew, or spaghetti. I also use MRE entrees when I can get them--ideally the food should be compact, light, yet high in useful calories. 1800-2000 calories a day is a good guide. Remember, you may be walking a lot. I also have some beef jerky, some hard candy, and some oatmeal, all of which is light, stores for a long time, and serves as a good tummy filler to supplement and stretch out the basic meals.
My bag is built around a worst-case scenario in which bad things happen while I'm away at one of a couple of places that I regularly have to go, each of which is roughly sixty miles from the Lair. If I can't drive home, and if I can't acquire a bike, I plan on walking it and based on a realistic assessment that I can make roughly 20 miles per day, I should be home in three days' max. Ideally Lagniappe will be holding the fort and protecting my main store of supplies and life'll be good for a few months once I get back there.
So I have my food. I also have basic cooking/eating utensils, an Esbit folding stove and heat tabs, and a small single-burner Coleman Peak One stove with a full tank of white gas that will last me for several hours' use. It's heavy, but if the weather's bad or I have to boil more than a cup of water, it'll be worth it. I also have waterproof/windproof matches and a magnesium bar for back-up. I WILL have fire and heat, no matter the conditions.
Speaking of weather, I have shelter in the form of a GI rain poncho (which doubles as a shelter half), a nice poncho liner (makes a great light sleeping bag) and a disposable rain suit folded into a pack smaller than a deck of cards. Being wet sucks. I plan to stay as dry as possible, whether I'm hunkered down or on the move.
There's a pretty decent first aid kit in a pocket of the pack, too. It has gauze pads, assorted bandages for dressings, slings, splints, etc., gauze rolls, tape, trauma shears...even a couple of occlusive dressings and a few trauma pads. I've also packed an epi pen since I'm allergic to things that sting, and some pain meds--aspirin and something a bit stronger courtesy of one of my surgeon friends. Bad times often bring both increased risk of injury and decreased access to medical treatment so you need to be ready to treat yourself or someone else. I'm ready.
There's a Sawyer water filter in the bag (and a camelback which will let me carry 3 quarts) and chemical tabs which will remove the viruses from water that the filter won't get. Face it--you can't carry three days' worth of water (at least I can't, not at a gallon+ a day minimum) so you need to be able to treat and use any water that you come across. And remember--just because it looks clean, that doesn't mean that it is. Treat it, unless you want to go down with a stomach virus.
Finally, there are the misc. items--solid knife (A K-BAR), a small sharp knife, a compass, a whistle, a flashlight, a small hand-cranked radio, 50' of 550 cord, and for me, one set of replacement liners and socks for my leg to replace damaged ones or to quickly rebuild it before setting out on a sixty-mile hike. I keep some ready cash in my bag, too. Just in case.
This pack all weighs less than 12lbs and fits nicely in a medium daypack in the back of my vehicle. Sitting alongside it is a duffle bag with a change of practical clothing, since I never know what I might be wearing when the time comes. Some nylon BDUs and a change of underwear and clean socks are a bare minimum, and this bag can be re-parked as the climate changes to add cold weather/thermal gear, extra rain protection, and other seasonal items. Snugged in between the two bags: a small free-standing two-person dome tent that I can secure to the pack.
This set-up puts anything that I could possibly need no farther away than my vehicle, with one exception of course: defensive armaments. I did not pack weapons into this kit because I don't like to leave such things in my vehicle unattended, and there are times when I have to turn my vehicle over to others--sch as a mechanic or a valet. Besides, I almost always carry a handgun and extra ammo on my person, so one in the bag would be redundant anyway. And whenever I travel long distances or the threat level is high, there's usually a long rifle temporarily added to the vehicle's storage area. A 1911 or a .357 revolver are handy, but not nearly as handy in some situations as an AR-15 or a FAL. Just know that there could come a situation where you wind up walking away from your vehicle but can't carry a rifle openly. In that case, be prepared to disable that weapon by removing the bolt or some other component to prevent someone else from taking possession of it--it would suck royally to wind up on the wrong end of your own hastily-abandoned rifle, wouldn't it?
Above all, and perhaps the most important thing to have with you, is the survivors' mindset. Without that, all the gear in the world is useless. You have to know without a doubt that no matter what happens, you're going to make it. "Do or do not--there is no try." Truer words were never spoken by any muppet.
Now get out there, build up a bag (or check over the one you've got), and prepare yourself mentally to use it. Sad to say, but with Obama and his band of looters running our country into the ground, we may all need such packs one day soon.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
My pal, come what may.
Here's Lagniappe, with his award ribbon for helping me reach my goal and attain the President's Fitness Award Gold Medal. He earned it though a lot of hiking, walking, running and swimming with me. He's always been a fit and active dog and he loves nothing more than going outside to do something physical.
But those days are coming to an end. I haven't posted about it before but my best pal has Degenerative Myleopathy now. He's slowly losing control of his hind legs. Since I first started seeing signs of it a couple of months ago I've been wishing and praying that it was something else, but it's not. There's no treatment or cure and even though there's no time-frame for the progression of the disease, he's just going to get worse as time passes.
The vet says that he's not in any pain, and I'm confident that he's right. Lagniappe doesn't act like he's sore. He still tries to run and jump and play like he's always done, but now he misses his mark when he jumps and he often falls down when running around corners or trying to descend stairs. The first few times he did it, I laughed and called him a clutz. But that was before I knew what was going on. I don't laugh any more. Now each time he falls, I wince and hope that this isn't the time that he hurts himself. I know that it's just a matter of time before he does, but he won't slow down--he still thinks that he can do the things that he really can't do anymore.
This is hard to deal with. We've been through a lot over the years, and we've covered a lot of ground since I took him in back when he was a sulky, hateful and dangerous ex-police dog that even the kennel that had bred him couldn't handle anymore. "Just take him," the owner told me. "If you decide that you don't want him, just bring him back like everyone else does."
I almost brought him back a few times that first month. But I always found myself giving him one more chance because something told me that there was a good dog under all of that hate somewhere. And it paid off in spades as he eventually learned to trust me and became my best friend. We've traveled together from Florida to Maine. He's flown co-pilot with me, and when I lost my leg a few years ago he was a big part of my transition back to normalcy. He's my buddy, and we've had a lot of good times.
And honestly, the good times aren't over yet. The hikes are a thing of the past now, but I still take him swimming almost every night that I can, both to keep his legs exercised and just because he enjoys it so much. We still sit out on the deck together in the evenings and share bags of popcorn and the occasional dish of ice cream. (And I still take him into Harpers Ferry to the Swiss Miss shop there where Sharon, the owner, hands him his own ice cream cones.)
Yeah, he's slowing down now, and a lot of the things we used to do we won't be doing any more, but we're pals and we've been through way too much together to give up now.
Friday, July 09, 2010
Elderly American facing charges while illegal alien criminals go free
Outrageous.
In Colorado, we have a case where two illegal aliens with lengthy criminal records tried to victimize Robert Wallace, an 82 year old retiree, stealing his trailer from his own home and according to Mr. Wallace, trying to run him over in the process. Wallace fired two shots at the pair, striking one in the face. Both illegals were subsequently identified after the injured one was dropped off the hospital and they confessed to the attempted theft. But rather than prosecute the pair, or turn them over to ICE for deportation, the Jefferson County Prosecutor's Office not only let them go free again, but it turned around and filed Attempted First Degree Murder charges against Mr. Wallace!
Whole outrageous story here.
What's next? The illegals filing a lawsuit against Mr. Wallace, aided by one of the many pro-illegal groups in Colorado? The Eric Holder Justice Department going after Mr. Wallace?
Seriously, this stuff has to stop and our government officials, from Jefferson County's District Attorney Scott Storey up to Eric Holder and Barack Obama, need to remember that they work to protect and serve US--the law-abiding Americans. They weren't elected to make life easier for criminals from other countries who are in our country in violation of our laws. If they won't do their job and protect us from the criminal invaders, we, the people, need to replace them with representatives who will.
If this offends or outrages you, please let your voice be heard.
The Jefferson County DA can be contacted at:
District Attorney Scott Storey
500 Jefferson County Parkway
Golden, CO 80401
303-271-6800
or via e-mail here.
Remember: Be civil.
In Colorado, we have a case where two illegal aliens with lengthy criminal records tried to victimize Robert Wallace, an 82 year old retiree, stealing his trailer from his own home and according to Mr. Wallace, trying to run him over in the process. Wallace fired two shots at the pair, striking one in the face. Both illegals were subsequently identified after the injured one was dropped off the hospital and they confessed to the attempted theft. But rather than prosecute the pair, or turn them over to ICE for deportation, the Jefferson County Prosecutor's Office not only let them go free again, but it turned around and filed Attempted First Degree Murder charges against Mr. Wallace!
Whole outrageous story here.
Sources say Torres and Cardona are believed to be in the country illegally and both have an arrest record. Cardona's record includes public fighting and numerous traffic offenses like driving without a license or insurance. Torres's record includes agricultural trespassing as well as a 2005 arrest for aggravated motor vehicle theft for which he was given a plea bargain to a lesser crime. Sources say Torres is also under investigation for being part of a major auto theft ring.Yet it's Wallace, the American citizen victim of the robbery who is out on bond now. Torres and Cardona? They're just back out among us courtesy of a soft-on-crime DA who is clearly trying to pander to the growing pro-illegal voting bloc in Colorado.
What's next? The illegals filing a lawsuit against Mr. Wallace, aided by one of the many pro-illegal groups in Colorado? The Eric Holder Justice Department going after Mr. Wallace?
Seriously, this stuff has to stop and our government officials, from Jefferson County's District Attorney Scott Storey up to Eric Holder and Barack Obama, need to remember that they work to protect and serve US--the law-abiding Americans. They weren't elected to make life easier for criminals from other countries who are in our country in violation of our laws. If they won't do their job and protect us from the criminal invaders, we, the people, need to replace them with representatives who will.
If this offends or outrages you, please let your voice be heard.
The Jefferson County DA can be contacted at:
District Attorney Scott Storey
500 Jefferson County Parkway
Golden, CO 80401
303-271-6800
or via e-mail here.
Remember: Be civil.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Stupid liberal tricks.
This week's "Stupid Liberal" award winner has to be George Dunn of George Dunn Engineering, Palm Springs, CA.
George, demonstrating the tolerance and compassion that so many liberals have, sent the following e-mail to Michelle Malkin yesterday:
Now this is so typical of liberals today. There's absolutely no effort made in this e-mail to discuss or debate anything--George's sole purpose was to hurl an obscenity at a woman who dared express an opinion that differed from George's. But George, being so smart and forward-thinking, sent his obscene insult from his work e-mail and had to write Michelle back and ask her nicely to take his work e-mail address down from her site. And showing much more class than George had shown her, she did.
From Michelle's site:
For those who found this post looking for his address, I'll be nice. It's George Dunn Engineering, Palm Springs, California 92262. He has a website too, but as of this writing, it's apparently been turned off.
Heh, heh, heh...
Cue Homer Simpson: "DOH! Stupid internet..."
George, demonstrating the tolerance and compassion that so many liberals have, sent the following e-mail to Michelle Malkin yesterday:
from George DunnRather un-civil for a civil engineer, wouldn't you say?
to writemalkin@gmail.com
date Wed, Jul 7, 2010 at 7:06 PM
subject How Does a Dishonest CUNT Like You Exist?
hide details 7:06 PM (3 hours ago)
You are a true pathetic human being. Sad actually.
George Dunn, P.E.
Now this is so typical of liberals today. There's absolutely no effort made in this e-mail to discuss or debate anything--George's sole purpose was to hurl an obscenity at a woman who dared express an opinion that differed from George's. But George, being so smart and forward-thinking, sent his obscene insult from his work e-mail and had to write Michelle back and ask her nicely to take his work e-mail address down from her site. And showing much more class than George had shown her, she did.
From Michelle's site:
Update: George Dunn has asked me to take his company name down (which I did), requested that I take down his e-mail (which I will not), and then sent me an “apology” with this laughable comment: “Still, I stand by my statement that the rhetoric being used on both sides of the aisle has ruined the chance to have an honest political debate in this country.”Of course, by the time she removed it from her site, the original post with his company name had already been cached by Google and many other web-crawlers and now it's preserved electronically forever, just waiting to be viewed anew by any of George's potential clients who might be looking for his contact information on the internet.
Yep, the nutball who called me a “c**t” from his work e-mail is moaning about the lost opportunity to “have an honest political debate in this country.”
Ouch. Ow. Stomach hurting from laughing so hard. Ow.
For those who found this post looking for his address, I'll be nice. It's George Dunn Engineering, Palm Springs, California 92262. He has a website too, but as of this writing, it's apparently been turned off.
Heh, heh, heh...
Cue Homer Simpson: "DOH! Stupid internet..."
Verdict in in Oakland BART shooting trial--Involuntary manslaughter
Former Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) Officer Johannes Mehserle was just found guilty of involuntary manslaughter for his shooting of career thug Oscar Grant on New Years' Day, 2009. Grant, who was drunk and high and only a few months out of prison after several drug convictions and one for carrying a gun, was part of a mob of disorderly punks who were tearing up the BART station and resisting attempts by BART police to arrest them. During the arrest process, as Grant was fighting off attempts to cuff him, Officer Mehserle went to use his TASER on Grant and accidentally drew his sidearm and shot Grant instead. This was unfortunate and clearly there was some poor training involved here, but it was a far cry from the deliberate murder that many Oakland thugs tried to make it out to be. After the shooting, the fools in Oakland rioted and tore up/burned down parts of their own community. And if it wasn't bad enough that the local trash burned out many of the businesses trying to make a go of it there, it turned out that many of the rioters who were arrested weren't even from Oakland--they were punk white kid wanna-be anarchists who traveled to Oakland just to be a part of the destruction.
Now mind you, I'll never feel sorry for Oakland, because as we've already seen in this incident and in the one where another Oakland thug named Lovell Mixon murdered four police officers to the cheers of his fellow street thugs, Oakland is nothing but a third-world city comprised of ex-cons and welfare queens and it's total destruction would only be a boon to America.
So now what? Will Oakland burn again? Will the city's criminal element embark on a spree of arson, assaults and mayhem? And if they do, will the forces of law and order be allowed to stop them by any means necessary, or will the liberals in charge restrain them and let the carnage play on? We'll just have to see what tomorrow's news brings us.
As for tonight, my thoughts are with the public safety professionals in and around Oakland. Stay safe and be careful, my brothers and sisters. Do what you have to do in order to ensure that you go home in the morning.
UPDATE: Yep. The savages are out again in Oakland. Fires burning, stores looted, and over 80 arrested as of this morning, with an expectation that the numbers will rise before it's over.
No Justice, No Peace--so rip off a Footlocker store...and then wonder why after that store refuses to reopen in your neighborhood, the stores in the surrounding communities really don't seem all that welcoming when you swagger in.
Now mind you, I'll never feel sorry for Oakland, because as we've already seen in this incident and in the one where another Oakland thug named Lovell Mixon murdered four police officers to the cheers of his fellow street thugs, Oakland is nothing but a third-world city comprised of ex-cons and welfare queens and it's total destruction would only be a boon to America.
So now what? Will Oakland burn again? Will the city's criminal element embark on a spree of arson, assaults and mayhem? And if they do, will the forces of law and order be allowed to stop them by any means necessary, or will the liberals in charge restrain them and let the carnage play on? We'll just have to see what tomorrow's news brings us.
As for tonight, my thoughts are with the public safety professionals in and around Oakland. Stay safe and be careful, my brothers and sisters. Do what you have to do in order to ensure that you go home in the morning.
UPDATE: Yep. The savages are out again in Oakland. Fires burning, stores looted, and over 80 arrested as of this morning, with an expectation that the numbers will rise before it's over.
No Justice, No Peace--so rip off a Footlocker store...and then wonder why after that store refuses to reopen in your neighborhood, the stores in the surrounding communities really don't seem all that welcoming when you swagger in.
My date with an anti-gunner
Yeah, we all do stupid things sometimes.
My stupid thing was dating a gal who turned out to be anti-gun. Now this wasn't recently--I know better now--it was back in my law school days. And this gal was one that I'd met at school and she was pretty hot so I was willing to overlook her basically liberal outlook on things. Now at the time, I did not know that she was a hoplophobe (gun hater) but she was liberal so it was pretty much assumed that she wouldn't have been impressed by my uber-cool Springfield Armory 1911. Hey--it was law school--98% of the women in law school are to the left of Marx on most issues so you've got to learn to accept this if you ever want some female company. And on this date, I was doing very well at managing to steer our conversations away from all things political and as a result, the date was going quite well. It was going so well in fact that we wound up back at my apartment after dinner and I had little doubt as to how this evening was going to end as she was sitting on my sofa playing with Oliver, my German Shepherd who pre-dated Lagniappe.
As she looked around, something--I forget what--caused her to frown and ask, "You're not a hunter, are you?" And she asked it in such a way that I knew what the answer had to be if we were ever going to get to where I was planning this night to go. So of course I immediately denied it and told her that I was a big-time animal lover, which was all technically true. I do like animals and I have not been hunting in a long, long time. I of course did not tell her that I was a competitive shooter with rifle, pistol and shotgun or that I was at that time a lobbyist and legislative drafter working on behalf of the gun industry. I knew instinctively that such news would not go over well, and this was confirmed when she smiled and told me that she was relieved because she was very much against hunting and gun ownership. She went on to tell me that she was actually one of the leaders of a campus anti-gun movement that was tied in quite closely with what what then known as Handgun Control, Incorporated--Sarah Brady's group. She told me that she didn't believe in guns or think that anyone should own one.
I was smiling pleasantly on the outside, but on the inside, my mind was laughing hysterically at it imagined the conversation that we were likely to have over breakfast in the morning.
Now let my cut into this tale briefly to describe my apartment at that time. I was living in a fairly upscale complex in a rather liberal college town and I had a two-bedroom apartment. I also had roughly seventy or eighty guns and a large quantity of ammunition and accessories for them. Because I knew that the management here also frowned on guns in the apartments, especially in that quantity, I had turned the second bedroom, the one at the far end of the hallway, into my gun room. In that room, all of my guns resided on display racks and all of my gun books, shooting awards and pictures, and other things associated with my shooting lifestyle adorned the walls or occupied space on shelves devoted to displaying them. It was quite the "man room" to say the least. But that room was closed off from the rest of the apartment by a door, and when that door was closed, as it was at this time, there was no indication at all that a gun owner lived there.
So after I managed to get the conversation back away from those evil guns that clearly haunted her so badly, things were progressing quite well again. A couple of bottles of wine had been consumed and we were starting to get quite comfortable and cozy. Yeah, she was clearly nuts, but she was also smoking hot and about ready to surrender her virtue. Confidence was high as she excused herself to use the bathroom down the hall.
But then Oliver had to get into the act.
You see, Oliver was one of those driven dogs who was positively obsessive about playing fetch. Once you touched his ball as she had done when she first came in, you would have to throw it for him over and over and over again. He never tired of it, so while he'd been outside on my deck as we got to know each other, I'd taken his ball and tossed it into the gun room so that he'd quit pestering her to throw it for him when I finally let him back in. And as she was in the bathroom, I let him in, with the expectation that he would go lay in his spot by the door while she and I took our party down the hall to the other bedroom. However, Oliver went down the hall and met her just as she walked out of the bathroom.
"Hi, Sweetie," she said to him. "Where's your ball?"
Hearing this--and knowing where his ball was--Oliver walked over to the gun room door and jumped up against it, knocking it open. The door swung aside to reveal an arsenal that would have made many police departments and a few small nation-states jealous. All I head was a shocked voice exclaim "OH...MY...GOD!!!" and suddenly she was storming back down the hall. Without another word, she grabbed her jacket and went straight for the door. I tried to stop her, but she wasn't having anything that I had to say. She wouldn't even let me drive her back to her car--she told me that she'd call for a ride. Then she was out the door and gone, leaving me alone with Oliver, his ball, and all my guns.
Ah well...it would never have worked out. I knew that. But I'd still have preferred it if this scene had played itself out the next morning. Thanks, dog. Thanks for nothing.
My stupid thing was dating a gal who turned out to be anti-gun. Now this wasn't recently--I know better now--it was back in my law school days. And this gal was one that I'd met at school and she was pretty hot so I was willing to overlook her basically liberal outlook on things. Now at the time, I did not know that she was a hoplophobe (gun hater) but she was liberal so it was pretty much assumed that she wouldn't have been impressed by my uber-cool Springfield Armory 1911. Hey--it was law school--98% of the women in law school are to the left of Marx on most issues so you've got to learn to accept this if you ever want some female company. And on this date, I was doing very well at managing to steer our conversations away from all things political and as a result, the date was going quite well. It was going so well in fact that we wound up back at my apartment after dinner and I had little doubt as to how this evening was going to end as she was sitting on my sofa playing with Oliver, my German Shepherd who pre-dated Lagniappe.
As she looked around, something--I forget what--caused her to frown and ask, "You're not a hunter, are you?" And she asked it in such a way that I knew what the answer had to be if we were ever going to get to where I was planning this night to go. So of course I immediately denied it and told her that I was a big-time animal lover, which was all technically true. I do like animals and I have not been hunting in a long, long time. I of course did not tell her that I was a competitive shooter with rifle, pistol and shotgun or that I was at that time a lobbyist and legislative drafter working on behalf of the gun industry. I knew instinctively that such news would not go over well, and this was confirmed when she smiled and told me that she was relieved because she was very much against hunting and gun ownership. She went on to tell me that she was actually one of the leaders of a campus anti-gun movement that was tied in quite closely with what what then known as Handgun Control, Incorporated--Sarah Brady's group. She told me that she didn't believe in guns or think that anyone should own one.
I was smiling pleasantly on the outside, but on the inside, my mind was laughing hysterically at it imagined the conversation that we were likely to have over breakfast in the morning.
Now let my cut into this tale briefly to describe my apartment at that time. I was living in a fairly upscale complex in a rather liberal college town and I had a two-bedroom apartment. I also had roughly seventy or eighty guns and a large quantity of ammunition and accessories for them. Because I knew that the management here also frowned on guns in the apartments, especially in that quantity, I had turned the second bedroom, the one at the far end of the hallway, into my gun room. In that room, all of my guns resided on display racks and all of my gun books, shooting awards and pictures, and other things associated with my shooting lifestyle adorned the walls or occupied space on shelves devoted to displaying them. It was quite the "man room" to say the least. But that room was closed off from the rest of the apartment by a door, and when that door was closed, as it was at this time, there was no indication at all that a gun owner lived there.
So after I managed to get the conversation back away from those evil guns that clearly haunted her so badly, things were progressing quite well again. A couple of bottles of wine had been consumed and we were starting to get quite comfortable and cozy. Yeah, she was clearly nuts, but she was also smoking hot and about ready to surrender her virtue. Confidence was high as she excused herself to use the bathroom down the hall.
But then Oliver had to get into the act.
You see, Oliver was one of those driven dogs who was positively obsessive about playing fetch. Once you touched his ball as she had done when she first came in, you would have to throw it for him over and over and over again. He never tired of it, so while he'd been outside on my deck as we got to know each other, I'd taken his ball and tossed it into the gun room so that he'd quit pestering her to throw it for him when I finally let him back in. And as she was in the bathroom, I let him in, with the expectation that he would go lay in his spot by the door while she and I took our party down the hall to the other bedroom. However, Oliver went down the hall and met her just as she walked out of the bathroom.
"Hi, Sweetie," she said to him. "Where's your ball?"
Hearing this--and knowing where his ball was--Oliver walked over to the gun room door and jumped up against it, knocking it open. The door swung aside to reveal an arsenal that would have made many police departments and a few small nation-states jealous. All I head was a shocked voice exclaim "OH...MY...GOD!!!" and suddenly she was storming back down the hall. Without another word, she grabbed her jacket and went straight for the door. I tried to stop her, but she wasn't having anything that I had to say. She wouldn't even let me drive her back to her car--she told me that she'd call for a ride. Then she was out the door and gone, leaving me alone with Oliver, his ball, and all my guns.
Ah well...it would never have worked out. I knew that. But I'd still have preferred it if this scene had played itself out the next morning. Thanks, dog. Thanks for nothing.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
OK, I'm pissed.
I know now that Lindsay Lohan, the no-talent-having train-wreck of a celebutard who is venerated in Hollywood and everywhere else that useless people gather is going to jail for three months. I know that she cried in court because it was a shock to her, and I know that she had an obscene message painted on her finger that the judge is taking note of. I know that her father and her sister were in court but that her mother was not. I know way, way more about this loserette than I ever wanted to know or set out to learn. In fact, I learned all about her DUI's, her coke use, her probation violation, the movies that she was going to star in before her career imploded, and many other random facts about her without even trying. Further, I learned all of this and more despite making a conscious effort NOT to learn anything about her. But this damned celebrity-obsessed tabloid-based culture and the media that caters to it made sure that my filters and barriers were overwhelmed by sheer volume as they reported on her on the front pages of almost every newspaper in the free world as if she was somehow someone important or worthy of note. She hasn't done anything to earn any sort of distinction, but her trials and tribulations are being discussed on virtually every news website or TV news show and even on almost every otherwise serious talk radio show.
I can't stand it any more.
My brain now contains several pages worth of irrelevant Lindsay Lohan data, no doubt crowding out otherwise useful and pertinent information. I don't want to know this stuff and I don't want to know her. But the media, trying hard to keep us from noticing Obama's bumblings, gaffes and failures, is spoon-feeding us this crap every day now, ensuring that we're not only distracted, but dumber for our troubles.
There was a time when the media reported actual news and discussed politics and current events. In fact, that used to be the norm, especially because the media liked beating up on whichever president was in charge. But now that Obama is in the White House--put there in large part by a media who conspired to trash his opponents and ignore his own flubs and failings--they can't report on his actions lest the wind up tearing down the idol that they themselves built up. So instead, they fill their pages with aimless gossip about Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, Perez Hilton and countless other morons. And in large part, we, the people, not only put up with this but many of us thank them for it and reward whichever source gives us the juiciest new tidbits the quickest.
Meanwhile, in Rome, the fires are raging out of control as President Urkel slips out for another round of golf. And as usual, no one sees him go or cares. Stop the world, I want to get off.
Thank God that the UPS man is coming with more ammunition this week.
I can't stand it any more.
My brain now contains several pages worth of irrelevant Lindsay Lohan data, no doubt crowding out otherwise useful and pertinent information. I don't want to know this stuff and I don't want to know her. But the media, trying hard to keep us from noticing Obama's bumblings, gaffes and failures, is spoon-feeding us this crap every day now, ensuring that we're not only distracted, but dumber for our troubles.
There was a time when the media reported actual news and discussed politics and current events. In fact, that used to be the norm, especially because the media liked beating up on whichever president was in charge. But now that Obama is in the White House--put there in large part by a media who conspired to trash his opponents and ignore his own flubs and failings--they can't report on his actions lest the wind up tearing down the idol that they themselves built up. So instead, they fill their pages with aimless gossip about Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, Perez Hilton and countless other morons. And in large part, we, the people, not only put up with this but many of us thank them for it and reward whichever source gives us the juiciest new tidbits the quickest.
Meanwhile, in Rome, the fires are raging out of control as President Urkel slips out for another round of golf. And as usual, no one sees him go or cares. Stop the world, I want to get off.
Thank God that the UPS man is coming with more ammunition this week.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Venezuela seizes oil rigs owned by US company...Obama does nothing
There were a few mentions of this in the news last week, but then I guess that the White House called up the major media lapdogs and told them to quit talking about it, because there's been nothing else reported on the subject.
But eleven oil rigs owned by Helmerich & Payne--an American company--have been stolen by the socialist government of Hugo Chavez because Helmerich & Payne dared insist that the Venezuelan government pay them millions of dollars that the company was entitled to per existing drilling contracts. And this isn't the first time this has happened. Last year, the Chavez regime grabbed oil rigs belonging to another US company, Ensco International, ostensibly over another payment dispute. (The American companies drill for the oil but Venezuela refuses to pay for it despite having contracted for the work.)
So what has the Obama Administration done about this open theft of property owned by Americans? Well Duh! They sent the US Navy and the Marines down there and kicked Hugo Chavez in the ass.
Whoops! Apparently they didn't. That's what Teddy Roosevelt would have done, or Ronald Reagan, but those strong leaders aren't in office and more, and their pledges to protect the lives and property of Americans abroad aren't being honored by this Administration. You see, we now have a girly-man in office--one who believes that the US military is a force of evil in the world, one that looks up to Hugo Chavez and admires the way that he's socialized that nation and taken control of everything there. So nothing happens, other than a statement from our once-respected State Department that our government "hopes" that Helmerich & Payne is compensated by the Venezuelans.
Yeah, keep hoping, there. That'll happen.
2012 can't come fast enough for me. Maybe this time around, we'll elect another real leader who knows what he's there to do. The last time that our country allowed other nations to punk us like this was from 1977 to 1981, and it all stopped the day that President Carter walked out of the White House and President Reagan walked in. Hopefully Obama's replacement will have the same effect and the world will start respecting America again.
And Republicans...that means that you guys have to put a real conservative up this time, not just some tired old RINO senator who claims that it's his turn.
But eleven oil rigs owned by Helmerich & Payne--an American company--have been stolen by the socialist government of Hugo Chavez because Helmerich & Payne dared insist that the Venezuelan government pay them millions of dollars that the company was entitled to per existing drilling contracts. And this isn't the first time this has happened. Last year, the Chavez regime grabbed oil rigs belonging to another US company, Ensco International, ostensibly over another payment dispute. (The American companies drill for the oil but Venezuela refuses to pay for it despite having contracted for the work.)
So what has the Obama Administration done about this open theft of property owned by Americans? Well Duh! They sent the US Navy and the Marines down there and kicked Hugo Chavez in the ass.
Whoops! Apparently they didn't. That's what Teddy Roosevelt would have done, or Ronald Reagan, but those strong leaders aren't in office and more, and their pledges to protect the lives and property of Americans abroad aren't being honored by this Administration. You see, we now have a girly-man in office--one who believes that the US military is a force of evil in the world, one that looks up to Hugo Chavez and admires the way that he's socialized that nation and taken control of everything there. So nothing happens, other than a statement from our once-respected State Department that our government "hopes" that Helmerich & Payne is compensated by the Venezuelans.
Yeah, keep hoping, there. That'll happen.
2012 can't come fast enough for me. Maybe this time around, we'll elect another real leader who knows what he's there to do. The last time that our country allowed other nations to punk us like this was from 1977 to 1981, and it all stopped the day that President Carter walked out of the White House and President Reagan walked in. Hopefully Obama's replacement will have the same effect and the world will start respecting America again.
And Republicans...that means that you guys have to put a real conservative up this time, not just some tired old RINO senator who claims that it's his turn.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Jigsaw puzzles can be fun
Or they can be quite vexing, especially if the "puzzle" in question is a Marlin Model 1894 lever-action carbine like the one that I took apart to replace a bad carrier due to a Marlin design flaw. It's even more fun when you reassemble it and find a part on your workbench that you absolutely don't recognize as ever having come out of that rifle.
Whoops. Cue the clown music. Now take it back apart and figure out where that mystery part* goes.
I did finally get it back together after about twenty minutes of fumbling, though, and bonus points: it functions! Now I'll just have to wait for the next range day to test it out.
Once again: Thanks for nothing, Marlin.
* said part was subsequently identified as a "locking bolt", and like the carrier I was replacing, it's another one of those "restricted" parts that Marlin would have refused to sell me had I lost this one and needed to order a new one. That's the main reason that you should buy Henry or Winchester rifles when you're in the market for a lever gun.
Whoops. Cue the clown music. Now take it back apart and figure out where that mystery part* goes.
I did finally get it back together after about twenty minutes of fumbling, though, and bonus points: it functions! Now I'll just have to wait for the next range day to test it out.
Once again: Thanks for nothing, Marlin.
* said part was subsequently identified as a "locking bolt", and like the carrier I was replacing, it's another one of those "restricted" parts that Marlin would have refused to sell me had I lost this one and needed to order a new one. That's the main reason that you should buy Henry or Winchester rifles when you're in the market for a lever gun.
Friday, July 02, 2010
More video hilarity--Chuck Storm in action.
This one kills me every time I watch it.
I love that faint "Oh, God..." from the ground, and the fact that his camera crew let him walk right into that post without stopping him.
I love that faint "Oh, God..." from the ground, and the fact that his camera crew let him walk right into that post without stopping him.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Federal government loses a hundred million just on utility payments to "the poor".
Once again, we see that the government which gives us programs as well-run as the Post Office and Amtrak is losing large sums of our money through fraud and incompetence.
Must...buy...more...ammo.
And people still want to trust this bumblingly inefficient government with more large programs...like Obamacare.
MIAMI – A federal program designed to help impoverished families heat and cool their homes wasted more than $100 million paying the electric bills of thousands of applicants who were dead, in prison or living in million-dollar mansions, according to a government investigation.
The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services spent $5 billion through the Low-Income Home Energy Assistance Program in 2009, doling out money to states with little oversight of the program. Some states don't verify applicants' identifies or income. For example, the program helped pay the electric bill of a woman who lives in a $2 million home in a wealthy Chicago suburb and drives a Mercedes, according to the yet-to-be released report obtained by The Associated Press.
The Government Accountability Office studied the program after a 2007 investigation by Pennsylvania's state auditor found 429 applicants received more than $162,000 using the Social Security numbers of dead people.
The GAO investigated Illinois, Maryland, Michigan, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, and Virginia, which represented about one-third of the program's funding in 2009. The agency found improper payments in about 9 percent of households receiving benefits in those states, totaling $116 million.
The report comes after a dramatic increase in the size of the assistance checks as fuel oil costs soared in 2008 and 2009.
"LIHEAP is supposed to be for poor people, not for cheats who pose as something or someone they're not and get their paperwork rubber-stamped by gullible government officials," said U.S. Rep. Joe Barton, R-Texas, the ranking GOP member of the House Energy and Commerce Committee, which requested the investigation.
The program gives low-income residents checks made out to "Your Heating Supplier." The checks are marked with specific instructions to the bank that they are only to be deposited by the supplier.
Although individual states are primarily responsible for preventing the fraud, the study found lax oversight by HHS and little guidance on how to do so.
Several state officials said they typically don't investigate or prosecute fraud in the program because the amount of money paid to each resident is so low.
The investigation found HHS paid thousands of dollars to people who were obviously ineligible for the program.
• HHS paid $3.9 million to 11,000 applicants who used the identities of dead people.
• HHS paid $370,000 to 725 applicants who were in prison.
• HHS paid $671,000 to about 1,100 people who made more than the maximum income to qualify for the program.
Illinois paid $840 toward energy bills for a U.S. Postal Service employee who fraudulently reported zero income even though she earned about $80,000 per year. "Times are tough and I needed the money," she told investigators.
New Jersey paid $3,200 to a nursing home on behalf of eight patients after the home's director applied for assistance. The patients' nursing home care was already paid by Medicaid.
Virginia provided three payments totaling $2,400 to three separate applicants at the same address, according to the report.
GAO employees in a sting operation also applied for benefits in Maryland and West Virginia, using counterfeit documents, fake addresses and fictitious companies. "All fraudulent claims were processed and the energy assistance payments were issued to our bogus landlords and company," according to the report.
Must...buy...more...ammo.
Stacie Mullins at it again.
Stacie Mullins, the Ohio woman charged back in March for her part in the theft and senseless torture death of a baby alpaca has been arrested again after she and co-punk Nicolas Reynolds fled from the police, reaching speeds of 80-90mph before they crashed into a tree after stop-sticks were deployed.
Stacie is reportedly married to and has a daughter with a soldier serving in Iraq. He's got to be overjoyed to know that while he's overseas risking his life for this country, the mother of his child is still whoring around with the same teen-aged boys that she was arrested with earlier this year. Now I don't hold much stock in the idea of men hitting women, but if there was ever a justification for domestic violence it's this case, and I would not blame her husband one bit for giving her the ass-whipping that she so richly deserves when he gets home.
Seriously, some people just need to be taken out to sea, tied to an anchor and pitched off the deck of a ship.
more here
A teen aged suspect in the alpaca beating case now has a 250,000.00 bond.As part of her pre-trial release in this case, she'd been ordered to stay away from co-defendant Reynolds, but we can see how well that order worked out. Hopefully that 250,000 bond is a cash bond that will ensure that she'll be held at least until her September trial.
17 year old Nicholas Reynolds and 23 year old Stacie Reynolds were arrested together Saturday night after leading police on a chase and crash.
Police say Reynolds was driving drunk at the time of the crash.
Judge Speath initially revoked both Mullins and Reynolds' bonds. Mullins and the teen were ordered to stay away from eachother.
Reynolds and 18 year old Marcus Miller stole an alpaca in January and beat it to death. Mullins was the driver during that incident.
Marcus Miller has changed lawyers and will be in court July 20th. Reynolds does not have his next court date scheduled, yet. Stacie Mullins has a status report coming up September 13th, while a jury trial scheduled for September 21st.
Stacie is reportedly married to and has a daughter with a soldier serving in Iraq. He's got to be overjoyed to know that while he's overseas risking his life for this country, the mother of his child is still whoring around with the same teen-aged boys that she was arrested with earlier this year. Now I don't hold much stock in the idea of men hitting women, but if there was ever a justification for domestic violence it's this case, and I would not blame her husband one bit for giving her the ass-whipping that she so richly deserves when he gets home.
Seriously, some people just need to be taken out to sea, tied to an anchor and pitched off the deck of a ship.
more here
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