Aug 30, 2012

Serendipity in .30-06

So whaddya do when you've had three magazines for a Remington 760 in .30-06 rattling around in the miscellaneous box for years? You haven't been able to locate a buyer of sufficient taste and discernment to own a 760 (or anything else in that action family) in a proper caliber. Or at least you can't find one anxious to acquire your mags at anything near a fair price.

You despair, of course. Unless you're of my cheerily optimistic persuasion. Then you wait for a fine1963 production model to pay an unexpected visit to your quarters. And wait. And wait. Years.

But eventually it happens, at least to those of us who lead clean lives, devoid of impure thoughts.

T' hee. I'm looking at it now. At a very fair price it is mine. MINE! Including the vintage Redfield 3x9 on that tank-like Redfield mount. And with enough clips* to handle 21 rampaging terrorists before having to fumble individually with any of these noble rounds.

(Pictures possible if and when I find the three-volt Cockroach by Canon.)

Among the beauties of the Second Amendment is this: Here in the Land of the Free, it is not forbidden to buy a rifle primarily because you already own a magazine or so for it. Bless the Founders.

Funny, it didn't start out to be a particularly good day.

*Oh hush. I'm just trying to temper tautology.

at 3:17 PM 6 comments: Links to this post Labels: Gimme some guns, It IS TOO all about me

Sometimes Officer Friendly really is

The teevee reporter seems to have the lede right. Without much fuss, Indianapolis cop Jeff Patterson talked down  a "special needs" student who had locked himself  in a home ec room full of knives. When he threw one at the officer, Jeff grabbed a garbage can lid to shield himself as he persuaded the lad to surrender. No gunfire. No Taser. Just a cop with no yen to shoot somebody, a lone policeman thinking fast under pressure.

Two problems in the report.  One may seem a quibble, but it is important enough to note. The journalist wrote that the lad surrendered before the officer "could"  taze him.  In fact, it appears Jeff handled things so that the surrender happened for he "needed" to shoot.

The other is a journalistic sin of omission. Where is the outrage at the presence of sharp knives in a school? A school, for God's sake. Where there are children. Maybe they'll get around to it. Dare you doubt that someone, somewhere, is jotting down a plan to turn the french knives over to the proper authorities and teach the budding cooks to do their cutting with dental floss and blunt scissors?

H/T Roberta

Does anyone else hold a memory of sword fights in the back yard? The well-equipped 7-year-old Lancelot wielded a pine Excalibur, a long lath for the blade and a shorter one, nailed on, for the cross guard.  Universally, his shield was  zinc-plated sheet metal from Mom's outside garbage can.  It made a neat noise when struck by your foe's sword, even neater when the blackguard cheated by throwing rocks.

at 11:06 AM No comments: Links to this post Aug 29, 2012

Pornographic gun prices

The only explanation I have is that Ben and the Feds announced QE 3 and QE 4 and QE5 yesterday and everybody heard about it except me. Am I supposed to go trade my green money for orange today?

The chief pleasure down in Spencer last evening was making a guy I dislike pay close to $300 for a fair-to-good 10 gauge Remington 1889, Grade 1.  It was tight and original, but the left hammer wouldn't cock, and I hate getting into the innards of old doubles. Otherwise I'd have laid it in against my next trip west, into serious Cowboy Action Shooting country where it would be desirable trading stock if working.

Otherwise: The rattiest old Stevens single shot .22 bolt gun you ever saw for $100.  A Ruger 10-22 of no distinction for $290. One of those rattletrap Rohm .22 single-sixes  for about $230. A post-64 Model 94 Winchester for $490. ('course that included the rubber slip-on recoil pad. Who's that frail?) And so forth.

The standout, though, was a Findy Sickle Iver Johnson .32 rimfire breaktop,  nice, bright silver thanks to a soaking in naval jelly and enthusiastic wire brushing. Bubba didn't bother to dissemble it first. Not a part would move. One hundred bucks.

I settled for some shooty or otherwise lethal  bric-a-brac -- a little ammunition and a nicely preserved Western 4 1/2-inch hunter from the '40s.

at 7:06 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Gimme some guns, The Tinkerbelle Economy

Aug 28, 2012

Next year in Sag Harbor

As a matter of principle, libertarians should rally around Karen Heaven's right to let gravity work its will.

As a matter of good taste, this libertarian sought high and low to find just the right citation. That's why the carefully chosen site, above, contains no pictures of Karen and Karen's friends frolicking for the right to bare this and that, left and right, for camera clickers in a New York park.  (As always, TMR refuses to air any material likely to corrupt children or the clergy.)

This extends all the way to resisting the misdemeanor known as "smirking with intent to pun," and I trust you, gentle reader, to note and applaud the absence of low-hanging fruit here -- even the delightful "titivate."

at 8:45 AM 1 comment: Links to this post Labels: Manners

The Seven-Year Snark

You can slip over to Tam's place and wish her a happy 7th anniversary of View from the Porch. That's a long time to be funny every day, especially to induce grins before 8 a.m.

at 8:05 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Bloggery

Aug 27, 2012

Tiffany Tanks

I see by the news Tiffany profits sank last quarter and the lamp-shade company isn't too optimistic about this one.

I can explain part of it. Ann hasn't been shopping too much lately, busy as she is on the campaign trail trying to make Mitt look common enough to get a few WalMart voters. Same with Michelle 'cept her job is to help make His Ineptness look competent.

I would like to stay and analyze this for you some more, but my breakfast date just walked in. at 9:12 AM 3 comments: Links to this post Labels: The Tinkerbelle Economy, Women With Clothes On

Aug 25, 2012

Now hear this!

Beautiful rain -- enough to make a difference and enough to set me to small indoor chores. One of them was to replace batteries and clean up my work horse USN battle lantern, a mate to the one on the right. It has become a semi-collectible, but mine is a user, most often employed for spotting New Dog Libby when she wanders a little too far on her midnight pee excursions.

The left three are WW2 models, gross and complicated things designed by BuShips  in accord with its old motto: "Damn it, put in some more parts!"  These oldies had oddball batteries,  and maybe bulbs,  available only through the federal bureaucracy. They had a cable and mechanical relay system to switch them on when ship's power failed. Surprisingly, they sometimes worked, though if you needed to carry one around you had to perform a little dance of disconnecting the power cable and twisting it out of its bracket.

The models like mine came along after I'd retired my sea boots,  in the 60s. They're built of brutish plastic and use off-the-shelf lantern batteries (two 6-volters) and sealed-beam bulbs. Battery life is extraordinary. This replacement was the first one in years of intermittent use.

Excuse me. I'm getting a somewhat gushy here over a freekin' flashlight. That's probably because I just did a small Wikiwander on Navy battle lanterns and found that good men have all but dedicated their lives to the subject. The entire project -- a should-read for retrogeeks -- is here.  Click the arrow for the slide show.

Then maybe you'll want to go see the big picture -- where the refurbished lanterns go --  on damndest ship restoration project you ever saw.

USS Slater was a DE, destroyer escort, newer than Queeg's Caine but still a toy boat on a real ocean.  And for one man's perspective on going to sea in one, consider:

My Gearing class destroyer hung around with cruisers and aircraft carriers, big ships. The crews would fraternize in Oriental dives on WestPac deployment. We always took the usual shots at one another's  ship assignments, bullshit stuff but good for easing tensions.

As, Them to Us: "How to you wind up the rubber band on your bath tub toy?" And Us to Them: "You clowns really get sea pay for living on that building?" Etc. Just very young men releasing testosterone at a low, banal, and friendly level.

But, then, often enough, the SunTory (not bad, about like Jim Beam) would give us the comradely maudlins. Big ship guys would salute tin-can riders. They would, they avowed, desert to the Commies rather than face the risk of destroyer life.

Now that I've told you all about that, one point remains: My tiny little destroyer weighed about 2200 tons. The USS Slater, DE,  displaced about 1200 tons. And she sailed the same damned ocean though the same damned weather.

And that is why you see me facing Albany with a snappy salute to the guys restoring her -- and to the probably long-gone counterpart of yours truly who sailed her a generation earlier. Sir, by the numbers, you're about twice the man I am.

Gee, that's a lot to excrete from putting new batteries in a flash light. But, as I said, it's raining. Nothing good on the electric teevee, either.

at 9:39 AM 3 comments: Links to this post Aug 24, 2012

You mean "pull the pin?"

I'm not going to post the site, just the headline covering a Wall Street Journal video.

"Fed Could Pull the Trigger to Save Economy Wednesday."

There isn't enough Prozac to make me feel better about that. It means the Fed will admit  to upping it order for green ink and paper.

I'll post this one, though. Stock traders made long bets this afternoon when Ben told some congresscritters he "has the tools" to masturbate stimulate the banks, meaning he's probably getting ready to use them.

It gets a little worse when Bernanke and the  Gnomes of Everywhere get together again  in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The Eurognome is Mario Draghi  who bosses the European Central Bank. Mario wants to chat with Ben about:

...yield-band targets under a new bond-buying program to let it shield its strategy and avoid speculators trying to cash in, central bank sources told Reuters on Friday.

And that means keeping interest rate plans secret from everyone except guys like Bank America, Chase, Wells Fargo, etc. They'll probably also let your legislators in on the gag, too. Just not guys like you and me -- y'know, speculators trying earn an obscene two or three per cent on their savings.

at 4:40 PM 1 comment: Links to this post Aug 23, 2012

Sort of a Roy Bean with an M4gery?

They still elect "county judges" down in Texas, though I gather from Wiki they pass their time more in general-purpose bureaucracy than in judging. To this Yankee eye they seem something like a super-commissioner of a county with the added authority to marry folks up and declare war on the United Nations.

One of them in Lubbock County is awful worried about His Ineptness getting re-elected and handing America over to Ban-Ki-moon (a foreigner), so he nailed some air time on a local Fox teevee station to warn folks to vote Republican. But, if that doesn't work, to rest easy anyhow because Judge Tom Head and the sherf  will be at the ramparts.

As he* sees things,  it's either a Romney victory or:

I'm thinking the worst. Civil unrest, civil disobedience, civil war maybe. And we're not just talking a few riots here and demonstrations, we're talking Lexington, Concord, take up arms and get rid of the guy. Now what's going to happen if we do that, if the public decides to do that? He's going to send in U.N. troops.

Gee, there's a lot of Bilderburg there, and, by the way, you do know that the Illuminati abuse little boys in the Bohemian Grove, don't you?

"I don't want 'em in Lubbock County. OK. So I'm going to stand in front of their armored personnel carrier and say 'you're not coming in here'."

I worry about that image, Judge. It sounds quite a bit like that fracas in Tienanmen Square back in '89. It may have slipped your mind that the guy who faced the tank was another one of them foreigners.

"And the sheriff, I've already asked him, I said 'you gonna back me' he said, 'yeah, I'll back you'. Well, I don't want a bunch of rookies back there. I want trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."

And here we get to the proximate cause of Judge Head's high-temperature rhetoric. He wants a tax increase -- 1.7 per cent -- to hire  more "trained, equipped, seasoned veteran officers to back me."

Judge Tom Head, the Audie Murphy of the Staked Plains.

it is unpleasant to make fun of guys like this. I think they're underdeveloped souls, sometimes "well-meaning," but usually befuddled by the complexities of human organization and seeking clarity through conspiracy theories while burdened with personal fantasies of leading a heroic resistance.

The judge speaks small pieces of a certain truth. The Obama crowd probably does cherish sweet dreams of one world; all lesser life forms such as you and me carefully regulated by Platonic Men of Gold, themselves.

Who doubts that their dreams remain just that because they understand that we peons will forbid it, politically for as long as remotely possible, then and only then -- in extremis  -- and may it be delayed a thousand years ---directly. One trouble with armed insurrections is that they tend to blow up a lot of cute three-year-old kids.

*This fellow is undoubtedly an aberrant. I've known quite a lot of Texans (nice people) and even Texas politicians. Taken as a whole, they're no crazier than anyone else, although they do seem to put zippitydoodahs in public office at a slightly higher-than-average rate. That Richardson woman. That Dick Perry. Or maybe not. Even here in an exemplary state we have to answer for the Tom-Toms. Harkin. Vilsack. Sorry.

at 8:33 AM 3 comments: Links to this post Aug 22, 2012

I told you God hates Republicans

From the AP's  Ten things you should know today:"

After hitting hurricane strength it could target Tampa, right when the GOP holds its convention there.

History repeats. I was with a delegation to the '08 convention in St. Paul. About the first day a hurricane threatened some place on the Gulf, and as a matter of sincere moral concern  good PR we suspended  "business" for a day or so. *

A handful of my fellow delegates and I spent the off day capitalizing on the hospitality of lobbyists, and I think this was the time I managed to scarf up about two hundred bucks worth of sushi paid for by the teachers' union.  The sacrifices a guy makes for his country.

*This is slightly misleading. Little if any business is done at national political conventions. It's more accurate to think of them as made-for-teevee movies. Any and all of them could be appropriately titled "Pandering with Pep."

at 8:09 AM No comments: Links to this post Like The Rolling Stones

I try not to miss Brandon's stories in the local weekly. He always treats me to a novel view of the English language. This week he gushes about the remodeling of an old WPA project, a shelter house made of a concrete slab piled high with granite boulder walls.

"It's been in the works for over five years and finally, renovations to one of the most dynamic shelters in Dickinson County is complete..."

Tectonic movement aside, where's it going, Brandon?
at 7:28 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: The media (sigh)

Aug 20, 2012

Hi! I'm yo Fuller Rush Man

The cops have three of them in jail over in Estherville. They're accused of drug offenses, and I can only wonder again why there is no statute making criminal stupidity a felony all by itself.

A bunch of guys from around Portland, Oregon, blew into the quiet little county seat, checked into some cheap rooms and fanned out to sell drugs door-to-door. Let me repeat that. Door-to-door. How surprised could they have been when some folks called the law?

To add a little more bizarre:

"The investigation resulted in authorities obtaining two search warrants for rooms at the Super 8 Motel in Estherville. However, authorities believe some of the suspects got away after being told door-to-door sales require a permit."

I see. The perps were comfortable selling pot and heroin to the lady of the house. But they panicked and lammed after learning that their enterprise needed the same city permit required of Hoover vacuum hustlers.

at 8:16 AM 2 comments: Links to this post Labels: genius, Slime and Punishment

Gearing up

I've never even handled a Commie rifle. While there are tragedies in my life, this is not one of them. The freer markets of the world have produced all the firearms a guy could ever need or even want. On the other hand, Dunham's Sports down Spencer way is overstocked on 91/30s and peddling them at $99.99 (a $30 savings!)

What an ugly rifle. Only the Brits (for sure) and the French (possibly )could have offended the eye so grotesquely. Still, it seemed to do its work adequately for all ranks and brilliantly in correct hands like those of White Death Simo  (who used a variant). It's hard to argue with the one-man-and-a-rifle combination which dispatched invading Communists at the rate of 5.05 per day that cold winter when the main contestants (Nazis vs. Brits and Frogs) mostly contented themselves by making  ominous honking noises at one another.

I have only a reading knowledge of the 7.62/54R, but I'm prepared to accept that it works like a .308 Winchester or, with finiken loadings, the .30-06. The accuracy reports are all over the place, and I suspect getting a natural tack driver involves a bit of luck.

So, if I can bestir myself to make the trip, I'll look down bores,  rattle actions, and try to get the Lady on my side. Then I would have to look hard at the possibilities of stripping away the ugly; a better stock for sure, and maybe it's possible to grind off that  magazine box to create an elegant single. Find proper cover, then go to work. One shot, one zombie, executed with great style.

This is a mere velliety.  and the odds of adding Boris to my stock of atavistic bolt actions are less than 50-50. They would be lower yet except that there is a Goodwill store right close to Dunham's, and with the next equinox just a month away, it's time to round out my fall fashion ensemble.

at 7:41 AM 5 comments: Links to this post Labels: Frog yeggs, Gimme some guns, It IS TOO all about me, There will always be an England. So what?

Aug 18, 2012

Calling Chris Hayes

Report to surgery for tongue adjustments. Or brain modification.  Possibly both.

Chris was blatting about the real importance of Assange and Wikileaks a moment ago and referred to the National Security Act and the Patriot Act."

He then said there a quite distance  between "the principle and the abstract."
at 8:51 AM No comments: Links to this post Aug 16, 2012

Burl Osborne, a pal

Burl and I worked together when he was still an Associated Press grunt. He went on to larger things. He died in Dallas yesterday, age 75. RIP.
at 12:30 PM 1 comment: Links to this post Labels: Just personal

Partly cloudy with a chance of Armageddon

It's understandable that the National Weather Service could desire a ready stock of .40 SW hollow points.  It's to protect forecast flunkies from irate citizens who have had it right up to here with their lies.  Like me last evening.

The local forecast gave me only the slimmest chance of living to see the sun rise. The least I could expect ahead of the cold front was a flurry of wind-born Peterbilts and a flood making the living room attractive to large fish. There was even the possibility of "tornadic activity."

Naturally I took the precaution of laying in dry firewood, doublechecking the supply of rice, beans, and candles. Then I rearranged the vehicles. The more dependable truck with its uninsured Texsun camper was moved to a a treeless area,  as was a guest's Outback. (I parked the aging but well-insured minivan under the largest dead branch on the place. Just in hopes, y'know.)

NWS zero-hour approached.  Nothing ominous apparent to the naked eye. Check the radar. Zilch, save for a ground return of the kind you expect when the transceiver is overtuned during a period of rapidly evaporating dew. The accompanying NWS text said errrr on second thought the storms would not be severe. In fact they tuned out not to be storms at all. Not a drop of water. Not a hail stone. The fallen leaves weren't even rearranged. Made me want to shoot the b*****ds for scaring me and putting me to all the unnecessary work. As a fair-minded man, however, I would recognize right of the false prophets to shoot back, and that's why I didn't get all wookie upon learning of the NWS ammo purchase.

Of course, it turned out to be a mistake, if you can believe mommie.guv. The hollow-point .40s were really for NOAA fish and game cops. (WTF?).

Still, you might want to check the cite above for some perspective on who in your government is stockpiling man-killer ammunition by the millions. Not that the perspective is necessarily the product of serious minds. As in:

"The DHS is also planning to purchase a further 750 million rounds of different types of ammo in a separate solicitation that also expires on August 20, including 357 mag rounds that are able to penetrate walls. "

To folks of a certain age  this will bring a nostalgic smile. We remember when it was gospel that a .357 would penetrate an engine block and retain enough power to take out three or four public enemies (usually Italians in Chicago) if you lined them up.

Still, the 750 million DHS rounds, plus another 350 million of those ubiquitous .40 hollow points ("illegal for warfare since 1899")  in the hands of a domestic non-military agency makes a fellow wonder. Doesn't that amount to about three rounds for every man, woman, and child in the United States?  Not even counting ammo for the regular cops and the federal Department of Education's Remington 870 riot guns.

Sometimes it's hard to figure out just who the enemy is.

at 9:23 AM 2 comments: Links to this post Labels: Miscellaneous assholery

Aug 15, 2012

Win a war, kiss a nurse

Happy V-J Day. This is one of them as denoted by Japanese time.  Or it is about three weeks from now if  you insist on marking it by the USS Missouri ceremonies.

It was yesterday, our time, and Times Square was the place to be. We're lucky Alfred Eisenstaedt was there. The Navy gets the gravy...

at 2:56 PM 1 comment: Links to this post Labels: War and Peace
We're still being dragged through the blood by the Brady folks and others who make a living by agitating to disarm us. None of us is surprised that this bout of hysteria is a little more intense and protracted than usual. The Colorado and Wisconsin killings were close in time, and if the anti-self-defense statists welcome one gory rally point, they find two exhilarating.

This comes to mind this morning because a blogroll friend   --  Guffaw, I just t remembered -- recently wrote that firearms deaths are statistically not terribly significant in the United States. That was in the back of my mind as I read a local report on the dangers of hydrocodone. It said 40 Americans die every day from abuse of FDA approved dope.

That number agrees with the Wiki report of just under 15,000 annual presrciption pain-killer fatalities.

Homicides committed with firearms? Fewer than 13,000.

Somebody mention this to Al Sharpton, just in case he ever decides he wants to get his priorities in some sort of logical order.
at 7:18 AM 1 comment: Links to this post Aug 14, 2012

The feds weigh in on another crisis. (It's for the children.)

I'll bet you didn't know that your federal government is on guard against the vast peril of backpack disease.

"A federal study found backpack-related injuries among children and teens have risen 41%  in the past five years. The study says more than 14,000 people between the ages of 5 and 19 were treated for backpack injuries nationwide last year. The total cost for those injuries was nearly $29-million."

That works out to f $2071.43 per overburdened  kiddie, although the number might require adjustment for armed and uniformed 18- and 19-year-old children huffing and puffing under a hundred pounds or so of rifle, ammo, and MOLLE gear, etc. -- courtesy of that self-same federal government.

The  reporter even found a local and highly concerned "back-pain expert"  -- a chiropractor, and stop that giggling -- to advise parents not to put a high-school capacity back pack on their pre-schooler. Thank you Doctor. We never would have thought of that.

Dr. Crunch warned  that no child should carry more than 10 per cent of his or her body weight. If he proposed that Washington enact such a law and form a new corps of backpack police, the reporter missed it. But would you really be surprised?

Besides, I question whether the problem is widespread. My observations lead me to believe that the vast majority of tykes carry nothing heavier than Mom's Visa card.

at 7:02 AM No comments: Links to this post Aug 13, 2012

Gasp. Maybe he even had nail clippers.

*Here's one for you to think about next time you're standing barefoot in the airport with a TSA perv groping around between your legs.

While the feds and the airports are getting pretty good at thwarting terrorism by twiddling your willy and confiscating your Coke, they haven't quite mastered the art of building a useful fence around JFK.

"(A) 31-year-old man swam to a Jamaica Bay shore and then walked past motion sensors and closed-circuit cameras of the airport's state-of-the-art Perimeter Intrusion Detection System. The $100 million system* is meant to safeguard against terrorists."

The cops have charged the swimmer with criminal trespass. Wrong. He rates whatever kind of reward the feds give to heroic whistle blowers.

* I wonder if  this is the same fence company hired to "secure" the Mexico/U.S. border?
at 6:42 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Slime and Punishment

Aug 12, 2012

Speaking of home invasions A threat yesterday to the Camp J Transient Officer Quarters But ever-vigilant New Dog Libby to the rescue. A few seconds after this shot there was a certain amount of growling, shrieking, and fur flying before Woody retreated beneath the deck. I feel so protected.
at 10:44 AM No comments: Links to this post Little Leon, Iowa. doesn't make the news often. Pretty quiet down there in the quasi-Ozarks of southern Iowa. So imagine our surprise to discover some sort of redneck ninja outbreak.

Now, a young woman and her three kids can be terrorized anywhere, any time; but by four guys all dressed in black armed with a bow and arrows -- plus a stun gun --  demanding guns, money, and drugs?

For once I agree with the news writer that "bizarre" is an appropriate adjective for a home invasion. There must be a whole lot more to this story than meets the eye, and I hope there's some followup reporting.
at 10:00 AM No comments: Links to this post Aug 11, 2012

The Ayn Rand candidate

Is Atlas about to shrug?  No, of course not, but it's still pleasant to read that a Contender (however slim his chances) has read the book and found its ideas compelling.

In a 2005 speech to a group of Rand devotees called the Atlas Society, (Paul) Ryan said that Rand was required reading for his office staff and interns. “The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand,” he told the group. “The fight we are in here, make no mistake about it, is a fight of individualism versus collectivism.”

That's music to our ancap ears even if we agree with the dreary political prophets who advise us to  gird for another four years of His Ineptness and the Jacobin chorus. When a man who might some day lead the country can use the phrase individualism versus collectivism,  things are not quite as bad as they might be.

But even if the anti-Obamaites find a way to win -- essentially by neutralizing the far-left northeast and the  assured 78 Obama electoral votes  along the Pacific coast and in Hawaii  --   we're not necessarily making great libertarian/objectivist progress. Because Alan Greenspan.

As a young fellow, Alan stopped barely short of moving his clothes to Ms. Rand's closet. As an old man and the national money czar, Alan had to spend a lot of time sputtering that, yeah, objectivism was a pretty good idea, but  not in the "real world."

Sic transit integrity.

The cite is from a New Yorker profile of Ryan. It's recommended reading for folks who still appreciate old-school magazine journalism.

at 8:53 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Ayn Rand, Be-Bop Obama, Politics

Aug 10, 2012

Plumbing accessories

Or, Happy Birthday, Rhonda at 12:00 AM 1 comment: Links to this post Labels: Women With Clothes On

Aug 8, 2012

Personal note

The TMR readership is not one of the demographic segments undergoing a serious population explosion.  But by God you guys are faithful, and I appreciate it, especially after the last few days of dull posts here.

Thanks for sticking around through my latest bout of Mediacom Disease. A little over a week ago Mediacomedy jiggled my wires, palpated my F connectors,  and allegedly retuned a nearby signal amplifier. They promised the troubles were over, which promise they kept for slightly more than three days.  I hereby withdraw, renounce, condemn, and declare null (not to mention void)  my previous report on the subject.)

A tech was here again today. After the usual jiggling and palpating he called for backup. The guy guarding his six discovered and fixed a  "loose connector" where my neighborhood feed mates with the main line. He said. We'll see.

I hope to repay my regulars with a little more content in my content. It was just too maddening to try to write something non-drivelly knowing there was only a  meager chance of ever getting it further than the Mac end of the ethernet  cable.

(The few little posts you did see were transmitted via a wimpy wireless signal that sometimes wafts  across Camp J. If I knew who the rightful owner was I'd send him a  sixpack in gratitude.)
at 6:08 PM 6 comments: Links to this post Obama? Romney? No, go ahead and pop the cap

I'm not too familiar with Marc Faber's work. He bills himself as an expert on the markets and the economy, or both. Today he addresses the question of whether Tweedle-Dum (D) or Tweedle-Dee (R) would best aid the American economy.

...says Faber, the Thailand-based author of the Gloom, Boom & Doom Report, if you put a gun to his head and told him to pick a candidate to vote for, he'd say, "shoot."

He likes gold, by the way, but the report doesn't specify whether as a personal investment or a monetary standard. Could be both. Or he could be just another copper boor. (kof kof).
at 10:18 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Be-Bop Obama, Politics, The Tinkerbelle Economy

Aug 7, 2012

Nigerian Lesson

Some will find this insensitive. So be it.

In Nigeria, a gunman has just shot and killed 19 persons in a church. For reference, that is one more human life lost than in Colorado and Wisconsin combined.

Nigeria has very strict gun control laws.
at 12:29 PM 2 comments: Links to this post Labels: Common-dense gun laws

Aug 5, 2012

Sikh shootings

While the cops and the media sort out the details, I am hoping:

(1) -- That this isn't the work of some sick Cletus who thinks Sikhs are Muslims.

(2) -- CNN fires the  so-called reporter who asked a hospital emergency room spokesperson: "What's the staff vibe?"
at 12:38 PM No comments: Links to this post Aug 3, 2012

Synchronized diving would be the perfect sporting event  if combined  with trapshooting doubles.
at 9:56 AM No comments: Links to this post The Other Welfare Queens

From the cute financial writers at "Motley Fool"  (We Make Losing Amusing):

"After stimulus-hungry investors were disappointed by this week's Federal Reserve and ECB announcements, they'll turn to today's nonfarm payroll report in hopes it will fuel action from the U.S. central bank. In particular, they'll be hoping payroll additions fall well below the 100,000 person consensus estimate."

(Related quotations, courtesy of Mr. Orwell: "War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. " And the ever-popular "2 + 2 = 5.")

Simply stated, and not too drastically oversimplified,  the sleek-groomed MBA set  is praying for higher unemployment to force Ben to run the national money mimeograph a little faster.

I think we need to lay off the literal welfare mothers for a while. They're pikers compared to the spawn of graduate schools of business. MSNBC tells the truth, sort of

Mika has been absent. So has Joe. They're probably in London advising Her Majesty and the Lord Mayor on event security and offering helpful hints on foreign and economic policy. But I don't know for sure.

Meanwhile, "Morning Joe" continues with the JV. Which led to something that had me nodding in approval a half-hour ago. Some of the early rising chatterers almost agreed that it doesn't make a whole Hell of a lot of difference* which statist we send to the White House in November. Because. like, we have a "structural problem" due to too few people working and too many scrambling for free tit. (No kidding? Well I will be damned. Why didn't I think of that?)

Then Chuck Schumer came on and ruined it by explaining that it's all the Tea Party's fault for retiring Richard Lugar.

*Usual weasel-out about Supreme Court appointments and the importance of down-ticket  races.

at 6:55 AM No comments: Links to this post Aug 2, 2012

Joshua for president

Now here's a feel-good story for you. Joshua Smith is nine. He heard his hometown, Detroit, was broke. So he set up a lemonade and popcorn stand in front of his modest home. He dedicates the proceeds to the city, to pay down its debt.

I will not be cynical about Joshua. Good kid. Willing to work. Heart in the right place. Plus, undoubtedly, other virtues once associated with the idea of being American.

However, I'm a little concerned about the city he is trying to help. Detroit is, of course, ruled by grasping politicians who control a regulatory Stasi even Honecker would have been proud of. Unt dey haf ways. That's why Detroit is broke.

Who can doubt that  someone with a badge is checking on this lad? Street vending license? Health department license? Zoning approval? Local EPA-like organization hazmat clearances? City, county, state, and federal tax ID number? Sales tax permit?  Compliance with EOE dictates?  Timely filed reports to OSHA?

Young men like Josh both irritate and frighten the Hacks of City Hall (and Congress etc.).

For one thing, they  cringe at yet another shot of publicity calling attention to the results of their stupid and venal ways.  Worse yet, they detest a demonstration that a nine-year-old boy knows more about the problems and their solutions than they do.

Of course there's one large structural problem with Joshua's plan. When he turns his profits over to the city he is, by definition, handing money to the politicians. They will piss it away. Or steal it.

at 9:13 AM 1 comment: Links to this post Labels: Heros, Miscellaneous assholery, Miscellanous assholery, The Tinkerbelle Economy

Aug 1, 2012

MIserycom update

The technician appears and seems to operate at a higher level than his colleagues. After years of frequent outages, treated by Mediacom  with new F conncectors, different modems,  head shaking,  incantations,  and, I would bet, more than a little percussive maintenance, this man discovered a faulty linear amplifier serving the neighborhood.

Bless all the competent men and women everywhere.

EDIT: This post is withdrawn as of three days after being written.

at 11:26 AM No comments: Links to this post Libertarian Oak

Life in Bucolia has its rewards. At 7 a.m. I am watching New Dog Libby romp. Guy in a pickup, a professional tree man,  pulls up and wonders if I'd care to own a big load of bucked burr oak. I said "sure" and asked where it was. "Down on Lake Shore Drive, but I'll bring it to you. Where ya want it dumped?"

"Aww, c'mon. I'll go get it."

"Naah. I'll bring it."

I smiled, said thanks, and pulled out a medium-sized Federal Reserve Cartoon. "Why don't you treat your crew to a few beers on me after work?"

"Nope. Glad to get rid of it."  (Repeat dialog on the same theme for a couple-three more lines.)

The friendly tone, along with money offered and refused, is one example of genuine good will with  which Ayn Rand seasons her lessons on free markets and rational self-interest. Others might just call it  the KY Jelly of commerce.

The pictured result greeted me when I returned from cage-fighting Mediacom. There's more fuel than the picture represents, a full cord at least, value in FRCs  $150 or more.

Why libertarian? Because two men cooperated to their mutual advantage. I got firewood free, save for the labor of cutting and splitting. My pal saved the trouble and expense of hauling it a long way. Not even Elizabeth Warren could improve on that, though she would damned well try. Or at least report me to the IRS if I forget to declare it as in-kind income.

at 11:17 AM 1 comment: Links to this post Ladies and Gentlemen, I rant, briefly but wholeheartedly.  Mediacom.

If you have a choice in the matter of  high-speed internet connection and Mediacom is one of them, choose another. Move heaven and earth to choose another. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to discover a provider which does not consider it a great personal favor to dependably deliver the cable signal for which you pay handsomely.

Since the choices around here are limited, I shall spend too much of tomorrow morning at the local Miserycom office, begging and pleading and groveling in hopes that someone there is (a) capable of and (b) cares enough to fix the  expensive fubared SOB so that it stays fixed for a while.

This TMR report comes to you via a wussy neighborhood wireless signal, the oft-used rescue vessel for which I thank all the gods plus its rightful owner. Believe me, if you're on the Good Ship Mediapop, you need a life boat.
at 12:52 AM No comments: Links to this post Labels: It IS TOO all about me One horse-laugh is worth ten thousand syllogisms. It is not only more effective; it is also vastly more intelligent. -- H.L. Mencken
...the Constitution was made to guard thepeople against the dangers of good intentions. There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters." Daniel Webster
EMAIL --alongfordmick(at)yahoo(dot)com
Liberty is not a thing for the great masses of men. It is the exclusive possession of a small and disreputable minority, like knowledge, courage and honor. It takes a special sort of man to understand and enjoy liberty – and he is usually an outlaw in democratic societies." – H.L. Mencken,
[null, null, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://www3.images.coolspotters.com/wallpapers/39518/audrey-hepburn-mobile-wallpaper.jpg", "src": "http://www3.images.coolspotters.com/wallpapers/39518/audrey-hepburn-mobile-wallpaper.jpg", "formatted_filename": "audrey hepburn mobile wallpaper", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 480}, null, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy45/hink_album/SANY0215-3.jpg", "src": "http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy45/hink_album/SANY0215-3.jpg", "formatted_filename": "SANY", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 239}, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://www.ussslater.org/history/slaterhistory/battlelantern/img23.jpg", "src": "http://www.ussslater.org/history/slaterhistory/battlelantern/img23.jpg", "formatted_filename": "img"}, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWUHQAk4S0U/UCv9NQaqGqI/AAAAAAAAAlE/UJHZffw5wMk/s640/Legendary_kiss_V%E2%80%93J_day_in_Times_Square_Alfred_Eisenstaedt.jpg", "src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWUHQAk4S0U/UCv9NQaqGqI/AAAAAAAAAlE/UJHZffw5wMk/s640/Legendary_kiss_V%E2%80%93J_day_in_Times_Square_Alfred_Eisenstaedt.jpg", "formatted_filename": "Legendary kiss V E     J day in Times Square Alfred Eisenstaedt", "rendered_width": 427, "rendered_height": 640}, null, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yBscekAgpR0/UCfNr2gqIoI/AAAAAAAAAkk/EH1rEoj8l74/s400/IMG_1205.JPG", "src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yBscekAgpR0/UCfNr2gqIoI/AAAAAAAAAkk/EH1rEoj8l74/s400/IMG_1205.JPG", "formatted_filename": "IMG", "rendered_width": 400, "rendered_height": 300}, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AFEVrRXKPTk/UCfNsiCC2EI/AAAAAAAAAks/C906uIsJhws/s320/IMG_1206.JPG", "src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AFEVrRXKPTk/UCfNsiCC2EI/AAAAAAAAAks/C906uIsJhws/s320/IMG_1206.JPG", "formatted_filename": "IMG", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 240}, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://love-a-luddite.blogspot.com/2012/08/", "unformatted_src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-biDCO0t1dPM/UBlF3SP5oOI/AAAAAAAAAkM/vye3dM5Jwdc/s320/IMG_1203.JPG", "src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-biDCO0t1dPM/UBlF3SP5oOI/AAAAAAAAAkM/vye3dM5Jwdc/s320/IMG_1203.JPG", "formatted_filename": "IMG", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 240}, null, null, null, null, null, null, null]