In the wind...

Blogging will be a bit sporadic for a bit as Murphy and the Lair have been turned over to a dog/lair-sitter while I'm out traveling.

Yesterday started off on a decent note. Flew out to Chicago in the company of a family with two whiny little kids who sat a few seats behind me and whinged the entire trip in that annoying little kid whine. There needs to be special seating for people with unhappy kids...like on another aircraft. How about it, airlines?Just put them all on one plane and let the rest of us fly in peace. In Chicago, I had a brief wait for another aircraft. While there, being horribly thirsty from the dry airplane air and basic pre-trip rush-around-induced dehydration, I sought a bottle of water from the Starbucks kiosk.

FIVE FREAKING DOLLARS!!! Seriously--for something that probably just came out of Lake Michigan a few days ago. Geez, Starbucks...how about next time you want to screw me, you at least buy me dinner first.

And while waiting in line for my water (because you have to wait several minutes for a hosing of that magnitude--they're popular and others wish to be hosed as well), I chatted up a blonde gal ahead of me. She was flying to Denver. By way of conversation, I told her that I'd lived in Colorado for a bit and that I loved the state, except of course for all of the whacky moonbats in Boulder where I went to school. That's when she gave me a frosty look and told me that she lived in Boulder.
Cue Homer Simpson: DOH!

So coming off from that faux pas, I took up for the oppressed masses in Starbucks lines everywhere as an airline pilot in line behind me was trying to get a packet of cream cheese to go on half of a bagel that his crewmember had just offered him. He asked for the cream cheese and the bitch lady behind the counter told him that since he did not buy as bagel, he could not get one. So I interjected, loudly pleading his case in front of the jury of those in line. "Come on, lady...you just nailed me five bucks for a bottle of water. You can afford to give the man a packet of cream cheese. Heck, you can afford to give us ALL cream cheese at these prices. Hook the man up!"

He got his cream cheese and I got a thank you from him and a few smiles from others in line. I felt a little better about my $5.00 water now. Revenge is sweet.

So then I flew on to Seattle, seated in midget-row seating with two women whom I'll charitably describe as being "plus sized". Arriving late in Seattle, and at the opposite end of the airport from my departure flight that had already started boarding while we were still taxiing in, I got my exercise for the day as I sprinted and dodged people, trying like hell to catch the plane. I made it, but another couple who were also on that previous flight with me did not, apparently because they were out of shape. Then it was off on another trip, seated somewhat ahead of loud-talking guy, whose mission in life is apparently keeping other people from sleeping or otherwise relaxing on aircraft. But that flight was just three more hours, and then I was on the ground in Anchorage, Alaska. A quick stroll took my tired ass to the Dollar rent-a-car rip-off franchise where the clerk offered me a car with "a bit more leg room and visibility" but without telling me that he was also charging me a significant upgrade fee until the paperwork was done and I saw the new price. At that point, when I told him that I wanted the car I'd booked, he sighed and got snippy about having to start over. I have to wonder how many times that trick has worked before because he did it quite adroitly. He also tried to "suggest" numerous other types of coverage and conveniences, each of which would have added substantially to my bottom line. But I managed to resist them temptation to reach across the counter and grab him by the tie while yelling "JUST GIVE ME THE DAMNED CAR!"

But I was nice, and I eventually got out with a mid-sized little Chrysler something or other that took me all the way up to Talkeetna for the night. I nabbed a room at the Talkeetna Roadhouse, an interesting place not lacking in color, and then I went walkabout. I went down to the river for a bit, and met up with a little black-and-white sled dog that trotted up out of nowhere to become me new pal. I scratched his ears for a bit and threw a stick for him a few times, but then someone called him and he ran off, causing me to paraphrase a poem I'd once known:
Whose dog this is,
I think I know
His house is in the village though.

Like I said...tired. Getting loopy.

But I could not sleep yet as I'd just got here. Things to see and all. The town is having an Octoberfest presently so I somehow got the idea to have a beer or two in each place that was serving beer. Two of them were closed, but I hit the other eight in short order. I talked to many people, eavesdropped on numerous other conversations, ate some cod, stared at the incredible cleavage of one dark-haired barmaid far too obviously, and somehow made it back to my little room (alas, without the barmaid) and slept the sleep of the dead until morning. It is now morning, and after I find breakfast and go to the river again to look upon Denali from a distance, I 'll be back on the road as the adventure continues.

Kitchen-table cartridge conversions...never again.

Every now and again, we get proof that someone, somewhere above has our back despite our best attempts at self-injury. My proof comes in the form of this stripper clip bearing these five rather unusual cartridge cases. Take a good look at them and see if you can guess what they are. (click on the image if you think that making them bigger will help.)Give up?



They're 7.62x51mm cases (.308 Winchester) that were fired through an M-1 Garand chambered for the .30-06 cartridge (7.62x63mm). They look funny because the shoulder has been blown completely out of the bottleneck cases. That the rifle continued to fire and eject these cases without any problems whatsoever is a testament to a great design, however it's NOT something that should ever be attempted deliberately, even in an emergency. In my case, it came about after I tried to change an M-1 over to the .308 chambering by use of an insert sleeve of the type that was once used by the U.S. Navy in an attempt to convert their stocks of M-1 rifles to that then-new NATO cartridge. This appealed to me because back then, .30-06 ammo was costing me $26.00 per hundred rounds but I could get .308 for $99.00 per thousand round case. (Those were the days, my friends...)
So to save sixteen cents per shot, I bought one of those insert sleeves for $15.00 and followed the instructions, which said to just put it on an unfired .308 cartridge, chamber it, and fire it. This was supposed to "fire form" the sleeve to the chamber, locking it in fast. Removal was supposed to be simple with a broken cartridge extractor. As is turned out, it was even simpler than that.

I'd fired several clips of ammo without a problem, but on one clip, I suddenly noticed over the report of the rifle (and the other firearms on the line) a change in the sound of my brass hitting the concrete. The sleeve had extracted with an empty case and the following cases, after firing and ejecting, had a distinctly different sound when they hit the ground. Fortunately my ear was attuend to little background noises like that and I stopped firing to check on the cause. I discovered five newly-deformed cases among the brass on the ground and realized that with the sleeve gone, I'd been shooting .308 rounds out of a .30-06. A lesser firearm might have reacted badly and caused me considerable harm, but that particular Garand just kept shooting. Wow.
Left to Right: .308 cartridge, blown-out .308 case, .30-06 cartridge.
Further investigation revealed that these chamber sleeves were supposed to have been loc-tited into place, a fact not passed along to me by the seller. Needless to say, I discarded it and never tried that conversion again.

Hand-me-down treasure from the yard

Uh oh...looks like Murphy's found something out in the fenced section of woods that comprises his new pen.
It's a basketball! A flat, black Spaulding basketball that Lagniappe used to cherish.
This ball was once Lagniappe's favorite yard toy. He bit a hole in it within minutes of my giving it to him years ago, but he never cared. He loved it just the way that it was, and it was easier for him to grip in that state anyway. We played fetch with it almost every day and I must have thrown that flat, muddy ball a thousand times. But Lagniappe never tired of retrieving it or just carrying it around. It was his favorite right up until the end when he could no longer run even a little bit and I had to put it up. After Lagniappe was gone, I gave it one more throw, way back off into the woods. It was the last throw, in honor of my faithful pal. And this time it remained out there, unreturned.

But now it seems that the torch--or the ball--has been passed. Murphy found it and made it his. Now younger teeth will grip that ball and the games will continue. Worry not, Lagniappe. It's in good hands--or paws--again and it's still loved.

And honestly, every time I throw it I feel as if I'm throwing it for two dogs. Still miss ya, buddy.

People who need to be kicked...

Is there anything worse than walking into a take-out place just a second or two behind another person only to have that person step up to the counter and pull out a list of things that several of his or her friends who aren't present want, resulting in all of the available staff ignoring you to work on the large order that Mr./Miss Inconsiderate coulnd't be bothered to phone in?

OK, maybe the same person doing it ahead of you at the drive-thru, and then sitting in front of the window thoroughly checking the order while your food grows cold.

In either case, those people need to be kicked. Kick them in the ass for the first offense, and in the head if they ever do it again.

Just a rant for the day, posted with a sigh as I remember when common courtesy was actually common and people had the sense not to do stuff like this.

OK, it's official. Deport Shane Bauer now.

After writing yesterday's post, I caught another story that showed that yesterday's reported insult wasn't his first slap at America since we paid for his "release". He also did it a couple of days previously during a press conference in Oman.

Bauer said: "Two years in prison is too long and we sincerely hope for the freedom of other political prisoners and other unjustly imprisoned people in America and Iran."

So now he pompously elevates himself and his comrades, pretending that they were "political prisoners" instead of just common trespassers and illegal aliens in another country. And then he goes on to backhand America again, talking about "political prisoners and others unjustly held in America", then compares our system to that of Iran. It's obvious that this spoiled trust fund brat learned nothing during his two-year "time out", not even what it takes to be a real political prisoner, i.e., the guts to stand up publicly and speak out against tyranny in a place where the tyrant can still get hold of you. He and his two pals didn't do that. They weren't out there speaking against oppression like Ghandi or Lech Walesa. No, they just blithely walked into someone else's country for a picnic without asking permission because they decided that borders don't apply to them. That's not defiance; that's just stupid.

Bauer also apparently didn't learn how to appreciate America the same way that many other people around the world who truly understand what freedom and opportunity are do. Those people either work to come here and be a part of our great nation or work to make their countries more like ours. But this kid...he just sucks on his silver spoon and thumbs his nose at America, despite the fact that we're the ones who paid the bribe to buy him out of the trouble that he got himself into.

Two and a half years in the jails of a repressive regime with nothing to do but reflect upon how great the country that he came from really is and he learned nothing from it. After all of that, he still hates us. How many other people do you know that could be that dense?

I'll pledge a hundred bucks to send him permanently back to Iran tomorrow, and I'll do it for the good of my country.

Well that didn't take long.

When American hiker/liberal idiots Shane Bauer, Josh Fattal, and Sarah Shourd got snatched up by the Iranians a couple of years back after foolishly deciding to go larking about along the Iraq/Iran border, I was quick to note that they were three young people from U of C Berkeley who claimed nebulous "jobs" such as "environmental activist" and "freelance journalist".

(Deb Schlussel looked at their background and nailed it down here.)

I predicted back then that they obviously felt that their anti-US sentiments would protect them from harm, basing this on their liberal backgrounds and their presence in the freaking war zone in defiance of State Department recommendations. Sure enough, just as soon as they are all three back in our country, they knock it in one of their first interviews.

The hikers' detention, [Shane] Bauer said, was "never about crossing the unmarked border between Iran and Iraq. We were held because of our nationality."

He said they don't know whether they had crossed the border. "We will probably never know."
The irony of it all, he said, "is that Sarah, Josh and I oppose U.S. policies towards Iran which perpetuate this hostility."

So they freely admit not even knowing if they'd crossed the border or not, but still claim that they were only detained due to being Americans...and then they bash American foreign policy in the same sentence, ignoring the fact that it was only a lot of American diplomacy behind the scenes (and probably a lot of American cash) that brought about their release. If that isn't hallmark liberal whacky-think in action, I don't know what would be.

I have to wonder if there isn't some way that we could get Iran to agree to take these three useless and ungrateful trust fund kids back and give us a few normal Iranian dissidents who would jump at the chance to become loyal, faithful, hard-working Americans.

He's lucky to be alive...

So this morning, I'm running late but I'm sharply dressed and otherwise ready to go, just as soon as Murphy takes care of his dog business in the yard.

Murphy, however, decides that he'd rather play and he grabs his toy from the shelf where I've put it. Now as long as he's playing, he won't do his dog business and I won't be able to leave. So I go out and take the toy from him, telling him to do what he's out there to do.

Murphy naturally has other ideas. He jumps up, lunging for the toy, and manages to give me a big muddy paw print on my nice, clean, starched and pressed (light blue) shirt.

I think that my shouting might have woken a couple of neighbors up.

But Murphy at least turned and immediately took care of business, which would suggest to me that when I yelled at him, I literally scared the you-know-what out of him.

The lady at the cleaners thinks this stuff's hilarious. But then she's also laughing all the way to the bank.

Saturday Man Movie

This clip from The Outlaw Josey Wales just goes to show that it doesn't matter if you're a bad guy in a detective movie, a fight movie or a western, when Clint Eastwood's around you mess with Sondra Locke at your Peril.

Simple Pleasures

Someone has a new rawhide.
His world is complete. Not a care in it.

I envy him sometimes.

Who's smirking now, punk?

Troy Davis smirked as he murdered Savannah Police Officer Mark McPhail, an Army veteran and father of two young children. That was 22 years ago, and justtice came round tonight as the US Supreme Court refused to grant him yet another stay and the State of Georgia put his lights out for good.

One less POS on the planet breathing our air.

And for those who still doubt his guilt, let me recap.

Davis had been at a party that night, surrounded by people who knew him. While there, he shot a man. Witnesses identified him and shell casings were recovered. He was convicted of that shooting in another trial.

Following that shooting, he went to a Burger King with another scumbag and they beat a homeless man over a can of beer. When Officer McPhail, who was working an off-duty security shift at the Burger King saw this and tried to help the homeless man, Davis shot him twice, once in the chest and then again in the face as Officer mcPhail lay on the ground. Witnesses reported that davis was smirking when he did this.Davis ran away and fled to Atlanta the next day, but again, shell casings were recovered, and they matched the ones recovered at the previous shooting. On top of that, his pal who'd been there with him went to the police and gave a full statement, implicating Davis. Six other eyewitnesses who were right there when it happened also positively identified Davis.

Here. Read all about it.

Yes, some of those witnesses tried to recant their stories recently, twenty-two years later. But it's no wonder, what with Davis supporters suddenly showing up on their doorsteps and badgering them about a man who was going to die because of things that they said two decades ago. But when they had testified originally, they were also cross-examined thoroughly by Davis' defense counsel, and had they been mistaken or out-and-out lying as a couple are now claiming (since there's no chance of being criminally charged for perjury after all these years), it would almost certainly have come out back then when both the prosecution and defense attorneys were subjecting them and their testimony to intense scrutiny.

Bottom line is that, despite Davis' supporters claiming that there was no evidence to convict him, there was plenty. That's why every appellate court that looked at this case found no reason to set the jury decision or death sentence aside. The reviwers who had access to all of the evidence affirmed that Davis was, in fact, guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that's why, twenty two years later, he's finally assumed room temperature per judicial order. Justice was tardy here but it's finally been served.

Burn in Hell, scumbag.

Oh--and Lawrence Brewer was executed in Texas this night as well for his role in savagely dragging a man to death behind a pick-up truck. It was truly a banner day for Justice. There wasn't much of a protest over his execution though, but then again, he was white.

Stupid criminals--ya gotta love 'em!

Darwin Award, Felony Division.

Pity that all of our criminals aren't this "smart".

A Delaware County man who ingested a "white chalk substance" after officers approached his parked car has died of apparent cocaine poisoning, police said.

Police were passing by the car in the area of 20th and Madison Streets in Chester just after noon Thursday when they observed "suspicious activity." The 41-year-old unidentified man locked the car doors and began to eat the substance, thought to be cocaine, and drink "gulps" of water. The man, from Chester, unlocked the doors after he had finished eating the substance.

But at least he beat that possession charge!

Oh, the HUMANITY!!!

HOW and WHY do obviously stupid people get nice guns?

New York City gun buy nets pen gun...and something else.

This pen truly is mightier than the sword.

A homemade, single-shot “pen gun” with a .22-caliber round still loaded in its tiny chamber was among the 164 firearms turned in for cash at a buyback program held in a Staten Island church, stunned authorities announced yesterday.

It is the first weapon of its type to be surrendered in the history of the three-year citywide program – a joint venture between the NYPD, the five borough district attorneys and clergymembers that has taken more than 7,000 guns off the streets.

The owner of the powerful, pintsized pistol – which more closely resembles a tire pressure gauge – was given a $200 bank card, as was anyone else handing over an operable handgun during Saturday’s event at St. Philip’s Baptist Church in Port Richmond. All gun donors were granted anonymity.

Also included in the impressive haul was a Nazi officer’s 1939 Luger P08 with an authentic SS seal, said a spokesman for DA Daniel Donovan.

The jet black German gun – considered a prized piece among collectors of military paraphernalia – was still capable of firing.

“Each one of these weapons, in the wrong hands, represented an opportunity for tragedy,” Donovan said.

And some retard turned that Luger in for a $200 gift card.

Sigh. If that pistol was matching and in good shape, it would have been worth ten of those gift cards...maybe more. it should be in a museum if it's not wanted, but now it'll likely wind up in some foundry because the sort of nanny-state liberals who run these drives don't care about value or history--they just hate and fear firearms.

That knife meme...and my knife.

Since everyone else is posting pictures of their knives, here's mine:
It's nothing special on it's own, but the story of how I came into it makes it special to me.

Back when I was young and had two feet and was out playing Good Guys vs. Bad Guys every day, I happened to find myself behind a car on the highway that caught my attention due to the nervous "guilty-of-something" look that the driver was giving me in his rear view mirror. I ran the tag, and sure enough, it was registered to some other vehicle. I called for an assist, planning on just following him until a few friends could show up and join the party, but before I even finished making the call, he rabbited on me.

Oh yeah. It was on. Lights...siren...get him!

I chased after him, and he took the next exit, obviously trying to lose me in the neighborhood. I kept on him as he turned into one of the local project apartment complexes, and at the first corner, he took it too wide, hit the curb, and dismounted his tire. Slowing to a stop, he bailed out and started running. I chased him for about a block in my car because he was so dumb that he was running right down the sidewalk, but then he wised up just before I could pass him and cut him off and he ducked between a couple of the buildings where my car couldn't go. I slammed it into "park", yanked the keys, and jumped out after him. He had a head start and I was burdened down with a vest, a duty belt and boots, but I was in damned good shape back then and I regularly ran distance training for just such an occasion.

I managed to keep him in sight and was actually gaining on him pretty quickly when he rounded another corner and ran smack up against a high fence separating this complex from the equally crappy one adjacent to it. He was trapped.

As I rounded the corner, he was just turning to face me and pulling something out of his pocket. Not knowing what it was but sensing danger nonetheless, I stopped quickly, backpedaled a couple of paces, and drew my pistol just as he fumbled the object in his hand and dropped it on the ground between us. For a second, he started to reach for it, but my muzzle was already covering his face and he stopped, hand still outstretched. Time stood still for a couple of seconds as I made out the folding knife on the ground, the blade partially out, much like in the picture. He looked at me, and at my pistol, and at the knife.

"You want it? Go ahead and pick it up, Motherf--er!" I panted, all out of breath from the sprint.

"I don't want it," he said after a few seconds, slowly straightening up and raising his hands. I proned him out, got the cuffs on him, and was walking him back to my car when everyone else showed up. As it turned out, the car itself was stolen, and there was crack in the door pouch and a pistol under the seat.

But then we went to court, and the case went right out the window as he claimed that the car was loaned to him by "some guy in the neighborhood" (Hey, don't we all have a guy in the neighborhood who just lets people use his car?) and he didn't know that it was stolen. Since there was a key in the ignition, it went the way of all "key cases" in this sad excuse for a court and wound up dismissed. His public defender also argued that he didn't know that the drugs and gun were in the car, and predictably, those cases were dismissed, too since the prosecution could not prove otherwise. Since he'd never managed to draw the knife and threaten me with it, that wasn't even charged, so all he wound up with were a few traffic court charges for the pursuit.

All of the other evidence--the gun, drugs, and the license plate--were turned in for destruction as the knucklehead walked free, but I said that I'd be damned if he was getting the knife back and I kept it since it was a decent one and I needed a new one for work use. It's just a little Carolina lock blade, but it holds an edge and came in handy many times slicing seat belts, cutting a noose around a suicide victim's neck, and opening boxes and poking holes it the tops of coffee cup lids. I've had it for many years now and it's kind of a good luck charm now.

Where is William Randolph Hearst when we need him?

And I need him now, because I want his help riling America up for a war--a WAR!
He did it well back in 1898, beating the drum for war against Spain. He and Joseph Pulitzer used their newspapers to convince America that we should go to war against Spain to avenge the destruction of the USS Maine in Havana harbor and we wound up teaching Spain a thing or two about messing with us.

Well now we have another upstart country that seems to have forgotten it's place in relation to the United States: Canada!

It seems that our "friends" to the north have enacted a new policy (as referenced here) requiring that boats leaving our ports on the Great Lakes to dive on shipwrecks in those lakes must now dock at a Canadian port on the other side of said lake before venturing to any wreck that's allegedly in Canadian waters. This means that wrecks like the Wexford, (blogged previously here) and others which American divers have enjoyed exploring are now essentially off-limits to American-based dive charter boats, because going all the way to some Canadian port-of-entry is just not worth the trouble.

So I say that it's time to remind Canada how things stand. We basically took control of those lakes during the War of 1812 when we swept the British from them quite handily. But being magnanimous in victory, we let the Canadians have access to part of "our" lakes, basically because we're really a nice country. But now they're pulling stuff like this? How quickly they forget. So maybe it's time to remind them again, perhaps by moving a carrier battle fleet onto Lake Huron and basing a Marine Amphibious Assault Transport or two in Buffalo. I mean, what are they going to oppose us with? A couple of fire tugs and an ice breaker at best. We can whoop 'em.

You Canadians had best not think that just because we didn't take Toronto that last time (when it was rather provincially known as "York") that we can't just reach out and take it any time that we want it, and Windsor right along with it! You guys are just lucky that we don't want those cities due to your silly-looking money, that consarned metric system and all that cleanliness ya'll got going on up there.

Still...I would formally advise you Canadians not to push it. Translated into your language: Take off, you hosers. Back away from our lakes and our wrecks and don't make us come up there. If you thought that the Red Wings were tough, just you wait until you meet the rest of us, EH?

Do your part for the guys who did theirs.

Hey Gang,

There's a fundraiser going on over at Carteach0's place for a really good cause--the Wounded Warrior Project.


Help a brother help a lot of good men who took one for America. And you could win some really cool stuff just by doing the right thing.

Donate HERE and send your receipt to: ArtWelling1@gmail.com to be entered into a drawing for lots of cool stuff. It's just that easy. And it's the right thing to do.

Happy Birthday to...

My Mom.


It's tough to figure out what to get her, because when you're as old as she is, you've got or have had just about everything.

A watch? She's got one. She won it in a drawing down at the union hall the night that FDR got elected to his fourth term. Still keeps pretty good time.

Dishes? She's got plenty, because back in her day they came in boxes of detergent, and she's been around long enough to use lots of detergent.

A car? She's still driving that one that she bought new right off the lot. And as slow as she drives it, That Model A Ford will never wear out.

Maybe a cruise. But then again, she swore that she'd never get on another ship after that night that the Titanic sunk.

Jewelry? She's already got a nice necklace that a former suitor flew all the way to France to get for her. Nice fella, that Lindbergh. Then there's the brooch that her old beau, Ben gave her. But she hasn't talked about Mr. Franklin in a while, come to think of it.

One good thing about my mom's birthdays though...these days, you don't even need to put the birthday cake in the oven. You just have to light all of the candles and it bakes itself.

My Mom...alway cool, always classy. Happy Birthday, Ma.

P.S. Thanks for this new picture of you. Looks like that Botox is really doing it's thing.

Martinsburg Air Show...the rest of the photos

I took these before Saturday's tragic Trojan Horsemen T-28 crash.

This first one is my old pal, the F-86 gate guardian at the base. It's been moved to a nice display platform and restored nicely since the last times I photographed it here and here. It's great to see them finally taking proper care of this long-neglected aircraft.
Here's one of the C-5 galaxy transports of the 167th Airlift Wing that always seems to schedule their flights specifically to boot me off of the runway when I'm out to fly. But hey--they're bigger than my Cessna and they have actual work to do, so who am I to argue.
The business end of the C-5.
Here are some of the other ones that were moved across the field to make room for the airshow displays. They look funny sitting over there...and big.
Here's a smaller transport, a C-130 Hercules. These birds can land and take off from just about any sort of field, even dirt strips. This one came in from Minnesota for the show.
Here's a T-38 Talon trainer. Sweet-looking ride, isn't she?
Here it is from the other side with it's pilot. I was going to talk to the pilot but ran into some friends and never made it back to him before the crash.
An A-10 Warthog up from Ft. Smith, Arkansas. The pilot informed me and several others that it is a myth that the recoil of it's gun slows the plane down in flight. He said that tale came from a crash of one of the prototypes where the gases from the gun made the engines stall, causing the pilot to eject and the test aircraft to crash. That's why these now have those little vertical fins just forward of the wing, to direct gun gases away from the engine intakes.
Here's pilot Scott Yoak flying P-51D "Quick Silver" past the crowds. Beautiful.
As he flew by, you could hear a whistling sound from the air moving over the gun ports in the wing leading edges. My Cessna should whistle like that.
Quick Silver is called “The Resurrected Veteran.” The aircraft is comprised of parts from more than 200 different Mustangs.
The paint scheme celebrates veterans, with every marking a symbol representing something about our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines. This P-51, “The Resurrected Veteran,” is a celebration of our nation’s Armed Forces. Every aspect of the paint represents those who have served and those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

While the identity of the pilot killed yesterday is still officially unconfirmed, he T-28 that crashed was owned and apparently flown by Jack "Flash" Mangan. His pilot's credentials are impressive. He was a graduate of the USAF Academy, and spent 13 years active duty as an Air Force fighter pilot flying over 2500 hours in the F-15 and F-4 aircraft. His aviation awards include three Meritorious Service Medals and Tactical Air Command's Instructor Pilot of the Year. He has over 4000 hours and held an Airline Transport Pilot and sailplane rating.
When my time comes, I could think of worse ways to go than quickly while doing something that I love.

The Trojan Horsemen

Here are the pics I got of the Trojan Horsemen performing at the Martinsburg Air Show today, just before the crash. They sure looked good.(click on the pictures to enlarge them.) There are no shots of the crash itself, and I wouldn't have posted one if I'd gotten one.











Not the way that an airshow is supposed to end. The remaining Horsemen continued to orbit the field in formation for quite a while, and I can't imagine what it must have been like to have to look down on that scene, knowing that a comrade who took off with you wasn't going to be landing with you. Prayers for the family of the pilot and the members of his team.

I'll post the rest of the show pics tomorrow. This day belongs to the Horsemen exclusively.

Martinsburg Air Show crash

I just came from the Martinsburg, WV airshow.

It was a beautiful day and the Trojan Horsemen aerobatic team were performing. The sky was filled with T-28 Trojans and the roar of their radial engines was blending with the music and the cheers of the crowd.

Then something happened. Two of the Trojans made a low pass from opposite directions and one of them dove into the ground right in front of me. There was an explosion and a pillar of flame and black smoke and the aircraft and it's pilot were gone, just like that.

I'll post more later. I really don't feel like it right now. I'll just ask your prayers for the family of that pilot and the members of his team.

EDITED TO ADD: OK, Pictures are up now. Go to the top of the screen and click on the site title for the latest post.

Stupid criminal shoots accomplice while trying to free him

Ah, the best laid plans of mice and thieves...

A juvenile attempting to steal a bottle of "booze" from a Colorado Springs liquor store was accidentally shot in the foot by his partner in crime.

The incident happened about 9:30 p.m. Thursday at 2935 Delta Drive, according to the Colorado Springs Police Department crime blotter.

As the booze-swiping juvenile tried to leave the store, the business owner locked the front door, preventing the robber's flight. A "male" waiting in the parking lot saw his partner's plight and fired a gunshot through the glass door, apparently to shatter it and free the would-be robber. But the plan misfired when the shot hit the juvenile in the foot. That boy was treated at a hospital.

I don't care who you are...that's funny!

Saturday Morning Western

In The Law and Jake Wade, (1958), reformed ex-criminal turned Marshal Jake Wade, played by Robert Taylor, finishes things with ex-partner Clint Hollister, played by Richard Widmark. DeForest Kelley had a role in this one, too.

"I was gonna hand you yours"
Well, you like me a lot better than I like you".

Random Thoughts...

To the fat hillbilly-looking woman in the blue Chevy pick-up truck yesterday...when you pull out of a convenience store parking lot onto a two-lane highway in such a way that the highway traffic has to come to a stop to avoid hitting you, you're wrong. So that means when people blow horns at you, you don't get to blow yours back and wave at everyone like you're the freaking Queen of Dogpatch. And then you turn into the very next convenience store? What--the first one didn't have the pork rinds or unfiltered Marlboros that you were looking for?

And last night I was fortunate enough to see a "Free Palestine" protest rally at Georgetown University, complete with signs and megaphones, calling for "equality in Palestine". Until then, I had no idea that there were so many blonde, blue-eyed female "Palestinians". In fact, with the exception of one speaker, almost all of the group appeared to be young white kids, albeit keffiyeh-wearing white kids. Among other things, they were yelling "we are the future". (I'm so selling my bonds.) I also couldn't help but wonder why they were here and not standing around someplace in Gaza demanding women's rights and gay "marriage" in the name of Equality. Oh, that's right--the so-called "palestinians" would kill them for that, wouldn't they? Silly liberal kids...

In California, two women got into a fight with Spongebob Squarepants. I'm thinking that they did a brave thing, because if you ever lose a fight with Spongebob, your street cred is just gone forever and you'd pretty much just have to shoot yourself.

So if you open your gun safe and an unloaded Glock pistol falls out and hits you on your bare foot, would that be considered one of those "firearms-related injuries" that the Center for Disease Control is always whinging about?

Did any of you know that T.E. Lawrence, better known as Lawrence of Arabia, died in a motorcycle crash in Britain in 1935? It was his death that caused his doctor to begin a study of motorcycle-related head injuries which eventually led to the requirement that Biritsh motorcyclists wear helmets while riding.

It seems that a porn company is building an elaborate survival bunker, to be stocked with guns, booze and hot chicks for a pending Dec. 21, 2012 apocalypse. First I've heard of that pending calamity, but I'm now working out a plan to locate and capture that bunker intact on Dec. 22, 2012. (Hey, somebody's gonnna have to repopulate the country, right?)

Seems like everyone's a critic...

As mentioned previously, blogger and gun-guy Keads was here visiting for a day and we did stuff.

Being the highly-trained and experienced observer of people that I am, I could not help but notice that he seemed somewhat uncomfortable as we drove through the countryside, as evidenced by his almost constantly gripping the overhead hand-hold in my SUV while grimacing and/or closing his eyes and mumbling what sounded like prayers of some sort.

I just chalked it up to something that he had for breakfast however, because the only other possible alternative was that he was uncomfortable with my driving, and that could not have been the case as I was, out of respect for my passenger, really keeping it toned down.

I hardly ever passed any other vehicles on the two-lane roads, and when I did, I made sure that I always did it in actual passing zones whenever possible. I kept my speed down close to what was posted, and I even made efforts to avoid going airborne on a couple of stretches of road that have dips sufficient to launch vehicles moving at speed.

I mean, what more could I do as a good host, right?

But then he posts this on his blog:

WARNING! If you are a victim passenger in a motor vehicle with him, use the "Oh Jesus" handrail on the passenger side. You will need it!

Aw, man...I didn't know, Keads. Honest. I had no idea that you wuz skeered. Heck, if'n I'd knowed that, much as it would have pained me, I'da backed it down even more and tried to drive like all of the mere mortal drivers on the roads who lack my special skills and abilities and zest for adventure.

I would never have intentionally made you uneasy there, Keads. Usually my passengers let me know, typically by screaming or something. But I figured that since you were all quiet over there, you were just enjoying the ride.

But like I told you when we started out, I'm an excellent driver. In fact, I haven't wrecked a vehicle since...let's see...not since I lost my leg five years back, unless of course we count that time I hit the TV antenna with the airplane, but I generally don't count that one since it was a plane, not a car or a motorcycle.

Hey, that reminds me...when you come back, we can go flying!

Dem Congresswoman says that we don't deserve to keep all of our money

Finally, one who comes right out and says it. This from Congresswoman Jan Schakowsky, Democrat from Illinois.

“I’ll put it this way. You don’t deserve to keep all of it and it’s not a question of deserving because what government is, is those things that we decide to do together. And there are many things that we decide to do together like have our national security. Like have police and fire. What about the people that work at the National Institute of Health who are looking for a cure for cancer,” Schakowsky said.

Schakowsky also says one reason the 2009 stimulus bill did not succeed was because it was not large enough.

Well first of all, National Security is a Constitutional mandate--one of the few things that the federal government was specifically tasked with--so no one argues that. But that expense is dwarfed by a spending on things that aren't Constitutionally-mandated or even authorized...like "police and fire" which are local government responsibilities, and even that National Institute of Health, whose "cancer research" is duplicated and far surpassed by universities and private pharmaceutical companies, each of whom has plenty of motivation to cure cancer and numerous other diseases.

But here it is, folks--the defining difference between Democrats and Americans. They believe that if you earn it, they should get to decide how it gets spent and who should benefit from it, and too bad if you don't like it because they've got lawmaking ability and guns to back those laws up if you or I don't want to give up our money or any other property that they covet. And like this loon says, the only thing keeping their socialist wealth redistribution schemes from creating the perfect utopia here is that they haven't taken enough from us yet. But then that's probably pretty high on the list of things that Obama's new army of union thugs is supposed to help him with...just as soon as their matching brown shirts get here from whatever factory in China is making them.

Oh, and in case anyone wonders what sort of a steward of the public treasury Congresswoman Schakowsky is...
From Wikipedia:

On March 11, 2004, Schakowsky's husband, lobbyist Robert Creamer, the executive director of the Illinois Public Action Fund, was indicted in federal court on 16 counts of bank fraud involving three alleged check-kiting schemes in the mid-1990s, leading several banks to experience shortfalls of at least $2.3 million. In August 2005, Creamer pleaded guilty to one count of failure to collect withholding tax, and bank fraud for writing checks with insufficient funds. All of the money was repaid. Schakowsky was not accused of any wrongdoing. Schakowsky served on the organization's board during the time the crimes occurred, and Schakowsky signed the IRS filings along with her husband. U.S. District Judge James B. Moran noted no one suffered "out of pocket losses," and Creamer acted not out of greed but in an effort to keep his community action group going without cutting programs, though Creamer paid his own $100,000 salary with fraudulently obtained funds. On April 5, 2006, Creamer was sentenced to five months in prison and 11 months of house arrest.

Congresswoman Schakowsky was re-elected after her husband's indictment and has been re-elected three times since his conviction and sentencing.

Those Illinois voters sure can pick 'em, can't they, America?

Spoken the people have....Mmmmmmm

Even Yoda would have loved the results of yesterday's special elections. In both New York and Nevada, the GOP wrested seats away from the Dems in races that were largely considered referendums on The Big Zero, Obama.

And this came despite dirty tricks by Nevada's Dem Secretary of State, Ross Miller, who declared this to be an open ballot election, which would have drawn multiple Republicans — a scenario Democrats had hoped would divide the GOP vote enough to allow a single Democratic candidate to win. But the GOP took the case to the State Supreme Court, arguing that they had a right to select their own candidate via a party primary race, and the Court agreed, swatting down Miller's chicanery. With the election made fair again, the Dems had no chance and they knew it.

In New York, Bob Turner, a first-time political candidate beat a career Democrat in a heavily Democrat-infested district for Anthony "let-me-show-you-my" Weiner's old seat. That race was all about Obama and even the loser, David Weprin, tried to distance himself from Barackus Failus, but alas, he couldn't pull it off and had to run with Obama standing on his coattails. And Obama, who has a 54% disapproval rate among likely voters in that district, was clearly an albatross if ever there was one as even the fact that registered Dems outnumber Republicans by a 3-to-1 majority in that district wasn't enough to save him.

Americans are speaking, folks. And what they are saying is that they want Obama and his policies stopped. They obviously aren't blaming the Republicans for our current economy no matter what Obama and his pet media lapdogs keep saying or else they would not have handed these two seats to the GOP in landslides.

More and more, 2012 is looking like it's going to be an interesting year, isn't it, folks?

Ask a silly question...

So I walk into the doctor's office today for an appointment. I sit down in front of a table filled with old magazines and select one to read until it's my turn. The receptionist looks up from her desk. "Good morning," she says. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No" I replied. "I just stopped in to read the magazines."
Behind her, I hear the doctor laugh. "Oh, I know who that is. Send him in."

Damn it--just DAMN IT!

Ever have one of those days when nothing works right? Well this has been one of those so far. Keads, of Another Day...Another... was here today after spending the week-end doing...well he can tell you on his blog when he gets home what he was doing here. I won't steal his thunder. But we'd planned to do some shooting today, and I brought out the Uzi, the M60, and a still-classified "secret weapon" that hasn't been blogged about here. Little did I suspect that two of the three weapons would go "Tango Uniform" on me almost right out of the gate, leaving us standing there on a range that we'd driven an hour to get to. (The "secret weapon" worked fine, but I only had a little test ammo left for it and we quickly exhausted that.)
The Uzi started choking on the commercial Remington ammo that Keads had brought, and it wasn't even shooting totally reliably with the high-powered stuff that I reloaded specially for it. Needless to say, Vector Arms is about to get this one back for a check-up. I've tried everything to get it to run 100% reliably like it used to and frankly, I give up.

So we put that one up and went to the Big Dawg, the M60. I fired a belt and other than one stovepipe, it gave me no trouble. But then when Keads took a whack at it... A case separated and shut the gun down. Naturally I had no broken case extractor with me.

In a perfect world, I'd have just swapped barrels and kept shooting, but there was no spare barrel to be had either, in large part because every time a barrel assembly pops up for sale on Gunbroker at a reasonable price, a certain dealer whom I won't name buys it up to flip it at a ridiculous price. But that's not relevant to the problem we had where we now had a 23lb. paperweight sitting on the tarp doing pretty much nothing. Big sigh.

Well now I'm back at the Lair with a ton of unfired ammunition, Keads is on his way back to Keads land, and I'm contemplating ditching all of this high-tech full-auto felgercarb and just getting a bolt-action Mauser that WORKS!

But anyway, here's Keads on the Sixty before the stoppage.


At least I got to meet Keads, and I can say that meeting Keads was truly a pleasure. He's a class guy all around and the next time he's up this way, we will burn the rest of that ammunition and then some.

Weaselcraft...the K9 version

All things being equal, why take on your adversary when he's expecting it and can see you coming? Your chance of success rises greatly if you can hit decisively from behind.

And this theory was put into practice last night by Murphy as part of his ongoing war against his arch-enemy, the vacuum cleaner.

Expecting company, I was vacuuming. This is not something that I do every day, partly because I'm a guy and partly because when Murphy's around, there's always drama involved when the vacuum is in use (or even when it's sitting out quiet and idle...it's still fair game for a Shepherd attack as I've found out).

Murphy hates that machine and he'll follow me around the lair, eyes riveted on the hose, waiting for a chance to strike or at least give it a good barking at. Other dogs may run and hide from these things (Lagniappe always did) but this guy aims to kill the beast and never quits trying. So naturally, I vacuum with one eye on the floor and the other on Murphy as he skulks just out of suction rage waiting for the right moment.

Well this time he tried a new ploy. I took the vacuum upstairs, leaving it plugged in downstairs because it's on a long, long cord. I'd set the tank portion solidly on the landing at the top of the stairs and gone to work in the guest room when suddenly, there was a clatter and a crash on the staircase and the hose was yanked from my hand. The tank portion had gone tumbling down the stairs, apparently of it's own free will.

No, scratch that. It tumbled down the stairs because Murphy hit it from behind, grabbing it's power cord and yanking it down the stairs. Score: Vacuum 0, Murphy 1. And I had to put the top back on the upended tank and re-vacuum up all of the dirt and dog hair that spilled out. Thanks, Murph. Thanks alot.
You just come on back up here any time you feel bad enough, Vacuum...That was just a taste of what you'll get the next time.

Meanwhile, muslims celebrate and burn American flags

In Britain, of course.

100 protesters burn American flag outside U.S. embassy in London during minute's silence for 9/11

Seems that they don't want to live in Islamic-run countries--they just want to attack those that aren't while parasitically enjoying the benefits and freedoms of their non-muslim host countries. Europe's infested. How long before they're all here pulling this crap?

Ten years. Never forget.

It's been ten years. Ten years to the day since Muslim terrorists murdered nearly 3,000 American men, women and children here in our own country via a cowardly sneak attack involving hijacked aircraft.

Hell, you know the story, so I won't repeat it. And I'm not going to post pictures of the planes hitting the buildings, either. You can find those anywhere.

What I want to do today is recognize the sacrifice made by my brothers and sisters in uniform--the brave First Responders who fought their way in to the World trade Center site and worked to save other people's lives until they finally lost their own.
I don't have much to say about these heroes. The following pictures give you an idea of what we lost that day.








































On September 11, 2001, 411 emergency workers who responded to the scene died as they attempted to rescue people and fight fires. The New York City Fire Department (FDNY) lost 341 firefighters and 2 FDNY paramedics. The New York City Police Department lost 23 officers. The Port Authority Police Department lost 37 officers, and 8 additional EMTs and paramedics from private EMS units were killed.

These Heroes had families. These Heroes had friends. These Heroes had names.
Let me tell you about just a few of them.

NYPD Officer Moira Smith was the first officer to get on the radio and report the first jet strike on the Twin Towers. She stayed and worked to free victims until the towers came down. She was 38 and left behind a husband--also NYPD--and a two-year-old daughter.






Fire Marshal Ronald Bucca didn't have to enter the towers that day. It wasn't his job. But he couldn't ignore all of those victims, and he was one of the firefighters who'd made it all the way to the 78th floor of the South Tower--one floor below the impact area--when the tower collapsed.




Also killed on that day was FBI Special Agent Leonard Hatton. He wasn't even tasked with responding to this disaster but he did. He entered the World Trade Center towers to help evacuate people even though it wasn't his job. He was trapped and killed when the tower collapsed.




And like Special Agent Hatton, Secret Service Master Special Officer Craig Miller rushed in to help, running towards the nightmare instead of away from it. He also gave his life trying to evacuate people when the towers fell.





And there was another LEO killed on that day, one who hasn't gotten much attention or honor since he was off duty and because he wasn't in New York City.


US Fish and Wildlife Service Refuge Manager Richard Guadagno was aboard Flight 93, which crashed and burned in a Pennsylvania field while enroute to another target in Washington DC. Richard was a sworn law enforcement officer, and we can only wonder what he'd have been able to do had he been allowed to carry his firearm aboard that airliner on that fateful day. Perhaps there'd have been one less crashed airliner. Sadly, we'll never know.



Additionally, Sirius, a Port Authority Bomb Detection K9 was killed on that day. Some may say they he was "just a dog", but he was also a police officer and a partner to Officer David Lim. Officer Lim made it out that day. Sirius did not.








These were some of the best, most selfless men and women that America has produced. They were my people. Different uniforms, different agencies, but part of the Emergency Response family all the same. They died trying to save others, rushing in again and again so that others might live. Never forget them. And NEVER let it happen again.


FDNY Honored Dead Law Enforcement Honored Dead
A Special Tribute to the brave officers of Port Authority