Scandals

If I recall correctly, when Bill Clinton was awash in scandals, he sent the military to Bosnia.

I'm just sayin'.

Ouch!

A footnote from Tam, on her post about the March on Washington last week.

What's the difference between Barack Obama and Jimmy Carter? Barry's never eaten in a segregated restaurant.

That's true of course, and even at my advanced age I have to go back to the dim reaches of my memory to remember our segregated past.  President Obama doesn't have a clue, nor do almost anyone his age or younger about what real racism looked like.  It was horrible, it was degrading to both races, and it was mainly promoted by died-in-the-wool Democrats.

Names like George Wallace of Alabama, Orval Faubus of Arkansas and Ross Barnett of Mississippi were men that actively fought desegregation, and each of them, along with a multitude of lesser elected officials were Democrats.  Indeed, I'd be remiss if I didn't include the segregation history of my own home state of Louisiana.  I recall that when I went to register to vote on my 18th birthday in 1971, I had to pass a literacy test before I could vote, and when I was allowed to fill out the voter registration form, the pre-printed block on the form for Democrat registration was already checked.  I asked the registrar what would happen if I tried to register as a Republican.  He laughed and said that as long as he was Registrar, no one had ever registered as a Republican.  So, for the first decade of my voting, I was a registered Democrat.

If you know the history of segregation, it's Democrats all the way to the bone.  Of course, in this day and age, the folks who talk about such things might try to make you believe that Thomas Jefferson was a Republican, and that Abe Lincoln was a Democrat.

At the Auction

I clerked the auction tonight, the second time I've done so.  Interesting experience, seeing the nuts-and-bolts of actually running an auction, trying to keep the buyers numbers, lot numbers, prices and items straight.  It's a basic, straight-forward accounting process, but it moves quickly.  Everybody on the floor, and the auctioneer. has to be feeding me information, and I really didn't have time to look up during the process, it's number-crunching, plain and simple.  Really basic number crunching.  Prices, lot, buyer and description, over and over and over till it's done.  Pass the ticket sheet along to the cashier, and move to the next sheet.

Don't ask me who bought what five minutes ago, or what a particular item sold for ten minutes ago.  I've moved past that, and I'm purely in the present.  What happened ten minutes ago is history and consigned to the bid sheet.  It's tickets, tickets, tickets, all the time and I don't have any idea what that clock sold for.  Not a clue.  I wrote down what they told me.  Go find the ticket and let the cashier tell you, I'm moving forward.

It doesn't pay anything, a piddling $35.00 for three hours work, but it's fun, and it's fast, and it's a good way to learn a business that interests me.  I've toyed with the idea of becoming an auctioneer, and that might be something to do in my retirement.  It's a great way to make a little money (or a huge amount of money) in a fascinating sort of commerce.  Selling other people's  stuff.

What a helluva a way to make a living.

That's Rude

It seems that little Kim, the depraved, insane North Korean leader has a pretty effective way of breaking up with ex-girlfriends.  Machine guns.

Chosun Ilbo, the respected South Korean daily with sales of over two million, reported that Hyon Song-wol and her colleagues had been arrested on 17 August for breaking pornography laws. Their public execution took place three days later, with other members of North Korea’s most famous pop groups force to watch before being dispatched to prison camps, from which few prisoners return.

It was a group execution.  He made the families watch, machine gunned the group, then sent the families off to prison camps.  Some, though, think that there might have been another reason for the execution.

An alternative explanation was that the elegant Hyon Song-wol, so publicly identified with Kim Jong-un, had attracted the jealous ire of Kim’s wife. 

Machine gunning the whole dance troupe to get the girlfriend.  That's excessive.

Voting and Guns

Our ex-president, Bill Clinton, says that voting should be as easy as buying an assault weapon.  Ha!  This, form the guy who was impeached.  Still, he's got a point.

Given the left-wing definition of assault weapon, I'll agree.  Every time I buy a rifle, I give the counter-guy my driver's license and submit to a background check.  No problem.

In some jurisdictions, you have to wait for a certain period of time, like five days.  In some jurisdictions, like New York where Bill lives nowadays, you can't buy an assault weapon at all.  Even with ID.

So, I agree with ex-president Clinton.  Voting should be as easy as legally buying an assault weapon.  As long as you have a valid ID and submit to a background check.  Next election, lets not  let the voters in New York or California vote, because they can't buy assault weapons.  Or, let's require as a prerequisite to voting, you must legally procure an assault weapon and bring it with you to the polls.  I'm sure that the Democrats would get behind that.

Bill Clinton is a staunch supporter of the 2nd Amendment.  And I've got a bridge in Arizona I'd like to talk with you about.

A Dream Derailed

Richard Epstein writes an article over at Defining Ideas, talking about the failures of the modern civil rights movement.  Mainly because the civil rights movement of the '60s and '70s was so effective, the problem these days isn't government sponsored racism, but government sponsored dependency.  The focus these days seems to be on things that we've already solved.  Jim Crow died several decades ago, but the civil rights leaders of today want to keep giving him CPR, rather than just let him die.

The current inheritors of King’s civil rights movement never think beyond the illusory direct benefits to their favored short-term target, ignorant of the powerful pressures that chew up their social agenda. Rather than looking hard at their own programs, they tragically work to resurrect the moral outrage of 1963.

Those days should be past us.  The leaders of today's civil rights movement certainly don't have any moral authority and the outrage they try to spark is a pale reflection of genuine racial authority.  When they get their "short in a wad" over voting rights, we all look around and know (with a great deal of evidence) that the problem with voting today isn't voter suppression, but voter fraud mostly generated by the Democratic Party.  Jim Crow is dead and we should let his memory die along with him.

Of course, I agree with Instapundit, who says,

If Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are the grand old men of your movement, you’ve got a lousy movement.

Indeed.

WMD, huh?

I see that John Kerry has declared Syria has WMD and used them on the population.  Really?  I wonder where Assad got WMD?

Secretary of State John Kerry said Monday that the use of chemical weapons in attacks on civilians in Syria last week was undeniable and that the Obama administration would hold the Syrian government accountable for a “moral obscenity” that had shocked the world’s conscience.

I'm sure that John Kerry knows all about moral obscenity.  As far as I'm concerned, his whole political career has been a moral obscenity.  Now, regarding the WMD's that Assad used, I've always believed that Saddam Hussein shipped the stocks of poison out of Iraq as we were rolling in.  The reason we didn't find it is because it was gone, gone to Syria, to resurface last week.  Interesting how history rolls around.

The newspaper reveals that a 200 square-kilometer area in northwestern Syria has been photographed by satellites at the request of a Western intelligence agency at least 16 times, the most recent being taken in January. The site is near Masyaf, and it has at least five installations and hidden paths leading underneath the mountains. This supports the reporting of Nizar Nayouf, an award-winning Syrian journalist who said in 2004 that his sources confirmed that Saddam Hussein’s WMDs were in Syria

Kerry is never sure who has WMD's or who doesn't.  His entire political career has been based on saying whatever is politically expedient.   Yeah, he was for it until he was a'gin it.

Our President's Syria policy is in tatters, and his Mid East policy is in tatters.  Our President has no clue about foreign policy, and if you look at John (Heinz) Kerry, you'll see a little string hanging out his back.  He'll say whatever you want him to say if you pull his cord.

Did Syria gas those people?  Hell, I don't know.  I know that I trust neither John Kerry nor Barack Obama to protect the interests of the United States.  Their records simply don't support that trust.

Sunday Song

If  anyone sings old gospel music better than Alan Jackson, I haven't heard it.



I'm heading to church.  After church, the house is going to fill up with grandkids.  Y'all have a wonderful day.

Sunday Morning Dawg

A video Dawg this morning, as I'm learning to work with this new cell phone.  The cameras in these phones are really very good, and although my glitchy old computer doesn't really understand the new technology, I've learned a few work-arounds to help the process be smoother.

Every morning the dog and I go out into the front yard.  Me, to look for the paper.  The dog, to pee on the mailbox post.   It's only eleven seconds.



I love that little shake he does at the end of the clip.

Palate Cleansing

Surfing around on a Saturday morning, I went to Oleg Volk's site.  Oleg is a photographer of  merit and a gun blogger.  Some of his photos and posters have been very influential in the various debates we've had over the past decade.

This morning in my surfing, I come across a photo of a young lady with a southpaw Ruger Model 77 in .223.  In the caption, Oleg explains that she's making head shots at 150 yards with 55 grain ball ammo.  Come the zombie apocalypse, I want her on my side.  If I'm reading Oleg's post correctly, the young lady is only 12 years old.

Good form, good rifle, wonderful photograph.

Thug Culture

I'm watching with some interest the case of Christopher Lane, murdered by three thugs in Oklahoma.  One of the thugs, James Edwards is a case study in absolute dysfunction.  We've already met his mom, who is in the Oklahoma State Pen.  His sister was recently interviewed and she had some enlightening things to say about her brother.

Padilla admitted that her brother had been in trouble for fighting in the past, but maintained that he’s “never been a vicious person”

Okay, he's not vicious, but he gets into fights.

She said as far as she knew, he was not associated with any gangs, but she did say he “hung around older people that were affiliated with gangs.” 

He's not associated with any gangs, but he hangs-out with people in gangs.

I knew he had a Facebook page, but I never looked at it. And it’s hard to believe that he will be–that he would even put things on there like that. 

So, he's got a Facebook page and he likes to threaten people's lives in social media.  Quite the brother you've got there.  He likes to fight, but he's not vicious, he's not in a gang, but he hangs out with gangs, and you don't believe that he threatens people when the evidence is placed before you.  So we know that Mom's in prison, and the sister doesn't have a clue, and we're left to wonder where Daddy might be.  Nothing I've seen indicates anything about dear old Dad, so I assume he's been as absent from his son's life as he's been from the controversy surrounding this horrific incident.

 But, we learn of one father who did the right thing, the father that turned in the three thugs to the police.

James Johnson, 52, called the police to tell them that the accused killers were hiding in the car park of the Immauel Baptist Church car park at about 5pm, two hours after they allegedly shot Lane.
“My son called me and said, “They’re saying they’re coming to kill me,” so I called the police and they got here within about three minutes,” Johnson told the Herald Sun.
Mr Johnson claimed that Edwards Jr had threatened the life of his own 17-year-old son Christopher on Facebook. His son was at home with his mother and sisters near the church when he received the death threat.
“They threatened to kill my son because they are in a gang, the Crips, and were trying to get my son in it and I wouldn’t let him do it.

 That one Dad made a difference.  His son is safe and three killers are behind bars, and he's probably grateful that his son kept him informed.

Allen West is right when he says that the Gang Culture is the real race conversation we should be having.

“It is a gangster culture out there. It is a culture that is being permeated throughout the media, and throughout the entertainment industry, that we need to start speaking out about. And furthermore, when you think about the fact that 72% of black babies are being born out of wedlock, this is the…second and third order effects that we have seen in the inner city, in the black community, and in other communities where it’s spilling over. So that is the real conversation that we need to start having,” West said. He noted that “when I was 15, when I was 16, my parents ensured that I was not bored.”

Idle hands are the devil's workshop, and it's Dad's responsibility to make sure that the teenagers don't get bored.  Where is Dad in this whole scenario?  That's another conversation that we should be having.  I notice that the Reverends Jackson and Sharpton haven't yet weighed in on the matter.  No money to be made talking about the thug culture.

Unintended Consequences

I've been watching the legal news today.  Evidently, the New Mexico Supreme Court decided a case today.  The basic facts of the case was that a gay couple wanted to perform a commitment ceremony and they tried to get a photographer to take photos of the ceremony and the accompanying reception.  The photographer declined, saying that she objected to gay marriage.  The gay couple sued, claiming discrimination, and won, all the way to the New Mexico Supreme Court.  Volokh is all over this case like a bad rash, and some of the comments are hilarious.  What I particularly find amusing is the distinction drawn between the idea of wedding photography as art, and the baking of the commitment cake (wedding cake, anyone).  Particularly  this quote in Dale Carpenter's analysis.

It also rejected the idea that especially creative and expressive professionals (like photographers) should be exempted under the First Amendment while more mundane and generic services (like cake-baking) should not be. 

While it's my opinion that the photographer (Elane Photography) should have photographed the ceremony, it's also my opinion that the gay couple (Willock) is simply being a petulant child.  A photographer didn't want to photograph her ceremony, so she sued?  Really?  How childish can you be?  Imagine if she had prevailed earlier and had forced the photographer to photo the service?  "I'm sorry, but all your heads were cut off.  I'm not sure how that happened."  "Simply a glitch."  "All the photos were under exposed, except for the ones that were double-exposed."

What I find really amusing is the idea that a photog might be more creative than a baker, as referenced in the block quote above.  Evidently, baking a wedding (commitment?) cake isn't considered art.  But, I'd be damned careful asking someone to cook something I intend to eat and serve to guests, if they didn't fully support my ceremony.  Or, I wouldn't tell them the whole story.

 That would be a huge problem.

For the record, I'm evolving on gay marriage.  I have a niece who is gay and when it's time for her to chose her life partner, I intend to support and celebrate their union.  Forcing someone to work your wedding who doesn't support you is just a wee bit silly, and in Willock's case, suing the photog is simply being petulant.  Get over yourself and find a photographer who wants the job.

Friday Night

School's back in session, and even though I'm no longer in a high school, I worked a football scrimmage tonite for a buddy who is still in the Guard.  He had to leave this afternoon to go to Polk to be the NCOIC of a crew-served range.  I told him I'd cover his scrimmage while he goes and shoots belt-fed machine guns.

Normally, a high school scrimmage on the last Friday of August has about 20 people show up.  As it was at the high school where I worked for ten years, I know the principal and the coaching staff, we work well together.  As the crowd started trickling in, I was simply amazed to have over 250 fans in the stadium, not counting the band, the cheerleaders, and the dance line.  Even the principal was wide-eyed.  Fortunately, I had off-duty police officer parents on both sides of the stadium, and the crowd was very calm, enjoying a warm Friday evening under the stadium lights.  There were no problems, but I thought it was amazing that so many folks showed up for a football scrimmage.

I am reminded why I left the high school to take a more sedate job.  I don't like working football games.  I'm happy enough when I get to enjoy a football game, but working one isn't enjoying it.  I hope to take in a couple of Friday night games this year, and not be the fellow working the game.  And of course, come deer season I should be off every weekend, beginning at 4:00 Friday afternoon.

Still, it was amazing to see the crowd at the stadium tonight.  I guess that everyone is ready for some football.

My Deer Stand

Fooling about on Google Maps today, I decided to go look at my deer stand.  When I cobbled that stand together, I put a roof on it made of green corrugated panels made of fiberglass.  They've held up well over the years and I think that they make a dandy roof for my stand.

I hunt land in LaSalle parish, LA, and I doubt that the landsat satellites take much interest in it.  However, I scrolled my way over to the lease today and looked at the pipeline, and I was amazed that I can see my deer stand from the satellite view.

 You can click on the picture for a larger view, but the four little green pixels at the end of that thumbtack is the green fiberglass roof of my deer stand.  Ain't that cool?

Here's the view out the window of the stand.  In another few weeks I'll get up there and start preparing for the upcoming season.

That's one of my favorite places on God's green earth.  And, you can see it from space.

Meet The Mom

I know that y'all are following the case from Oklahoma, where the three degenerate black teens shot the Australian baseball player who was out for a jog.  One of the cowardly degenerates, a teen named James Edwards claimed that the three boys were "bored" when they rolled up on the jogging baseball player and shot him in the back.

Some news media is covering the story, but in a manner that blames everything but gang violence and criminality.  Bryan Preston at PJ Media is doing the hard digging, and finds out that in the case of James Edwards, at least, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.  It turns out that our young murderous coward has a mother who is currently in the Oklahoma Department of Corrections for drug charges.

She has three known aliases. As things stand now, her relationship with Oklahoma’s criminal justice system won’t end for several decades. Her multiple convictions include distribution of cocaine. She was in court in Duncan, OK, as recently as May 2010, when she was found to have violated her parole by obtaining prescription drugs by fraud. Her probation was revoked.

It looks to me like Mom is doing the remainder of a 12 year sentence, plus a probation violation.  She probably won't be out of prison for several years.  Due to the vagaries of counting offender class, she seems to be a 2nd, or 3rd felony offender.  It's hard to tell without the complete criminal history that gives both arrest and conviction dates, but you can view the record here.

Preston continues to do the hard lifting in this case, citing evidence on Twitter and Facebook that the murderous degenerate scum were not simply bored, but were affiliated with the criminal street gang, the Crips, and were seeking thrills on a lazy summer afternoon.  It also appears that they had racist motivations.

CNN also missed this Edwards tweet, in which he claimed to have exacted revenge for the verdict in the George Zimmerman trial — “woods” is slang for white people.

Ayeee I knocced out 5 woods since Zimmerman court!:) lol shit ima keep sleepin shit! #ayeeee

Of course, no one is going to call this a hate crime.  We all know that it is extremely unlikely that any black person will be charged with a hate crime for murdering a white person.

I was once told by a lawyer I respect, that the law grinds exceedingly slow, but it grinds exceedingly fine.  I hope that the criminal justice sytem in Oklahoma grinds on these three for a long, long time.

Y'all Want To Go Metric?

There's this guy, over at the Scientific American, who's making an argument for moving the US to the metric system.  You know, that whole kilometer thing.  He argues for American english, but wants to move us to the metric system.

I can confidently argue the finer points of how the use of y’all and the plural form all y’all are descriptive and have a place in the American lexicon. I take pleasure in explaining the intricacies of chicken fried foods. 

That's good, at least we can admire the linguistics of the heartland.  Common ground in any argument is nice. However, his argument falls flat when he starts talking about science.

 We are at a disadvantage by not speaking the international language of science at a time when we are struggling with truly global issues like climate change and resource depletion.

Now we're at the heart of the problem.  If you're going to use the terms 'science' and 'glowball warming' in the same sentence, then you've got a problem.  Most of what I've seen of the recent 'global warming' debate is not science.  Science is rigidly controlled measurements over time, and you can't convince me that the measurements that the warming alarmists take are accurate, especially when we have temperature measuring devices being blasted with jet wash a couple of times a day.  That's bound to skew your results a little.  You see, that's the thing about science.  When one measurement can skew the whole data set, then that measurement is bullshit, your whole data set is bullshit.  Bullshit ain't science.  I know bullshit, son, I've been spewing it for decades.

Oh, and that whole resource depletion thing?  I suspect you're talking about 'peak oil' and maybe you haven't noticed yet, but modern science has given us vastly more resources in the last decade,  Just exactly what resources are we talking about, and does it really matter if we measure them in liters or barrels?

Cushaw

A cushaw is a kind of squash grown in Louisiana.  It's not a spahetti squash, more of a dessert squash, with a meat like pumpkin.  Milady texted me today, asking about cajun squash, and I told her about Mirlitons, but that wasn't what she was looking for.  I finally had to email Mostly Cajun and he put me on the right track.  It's a Cushaw.

If you can find a Cushaw, here's a good recipe for a dessert, if you like desserts made with squash.  The Cushaw has a meat like a pumpkin, and if you don't have the room to grow pumpkins, the cushaw will climb trees at the edge of your garden.

Mostly Cajun also reminded me of a squash called a cocozelle, which is a type of zucchini.  I planted three hills of cocozelle one spring, in southern Natchitoches Parish, and I'll never be so weak as to plant those again.  I planted three hills, and that squash took two acres of my pasture.  They were climbing pecan trees wit the squash hanging down like ... well, like squash.  The cattle loved them, and we had plenty to give to friends.  There is only so much zucchini that you can give to friends.  The boys and I eventually discarded the surplus by making them into tiny canoes and floating them down the ditches during big rains.  Some of them took root on the banks of Bayou Derbonne and we nearly had an ecological disaster almost like kudzu.

Thanks Cajun, for reminding me about that.

Wednesday Whazzup?

I see that Nevada sent a bunch of mental patients to California by the simple expedient of giving them a one-way bus ticket.

The city of San Francisco is considering a lawsuit against Nevada for allegedly releasing and providing hundreds of psychiatric patients one-way bus tickets

Well, that's one way to get them out of your jurisdiction.  Not perhaps the most ethical way, but hey!  They were all eligible for furlough, right?  I can hear the conversation now; "Would you like to go to California?"  "Take the ticket and get on the bus."

In other news, a goblin breaks out of an Iowa prison, led deputies on a chase, then got into a house with a 71 year-old retired prison guard and his wife.  Bad choice of houses to break into.  The elderly couple was going to lie low and let the goblin leave on his own, but he overstayed his welcome and the husband decided to retrieve the shotgun.

The Mauderlys had a shotgun in the house and eventually decided to retrieve it, Mortvedt said. Jerome Mauderly, 71, shot and killed Long in the couple's kitchen. Carolyn Mauderly, 66, called 911 at about 2:10 a.m. Tuesday.
Officers who responded found Long lying face down with one wound. The Mauderlys were uninjured.

That's the way that home invasions should end.  One goblin face down in the kitchen.  Hopefully, the sheriff will send a detail of inmates over to help them clean the blood off the cabinets and floor.

9mm Dies

Since the Newtown shooting, reloading supplies have been scarce.  We're starting to see powder, bullets, and primers in small quantities, but we haven't seen 9mm dies in months.  Even .22LR ammo is beginning to show up on the shelves in limited quantities, but 9mm dies are as scarce as hen's teeth.

A good set of dies is a lifetime investment.  I've got dies that I've had for over 20 years with nary an indication that they're going to wear out.  I don't shoot 9mm, don't own a 9mm, but two of my sons do and they're brand-new reloaders, getting their gear together.  One in particular likes shooting USPSA which runs through ammo pretty quickly.

So, a couple of months ago, I told Midway USA that when they had some Lee carbide die sets in stock, to email me.  They emailed me today and I ordered two sets so that the boys can reload their own ammo.  They should be in later this week, and the boys can start the journey of learning to hand-roll their own ammunition.  They've been watching me for two decades but it's different when you're pulling the lever all by yourself.

Soap Pods

In the last several months, Milady and I have been using those soap pods that you see everywhere.  Tide makes them, Purex makes them. No measuring, no powder, no liquid, just drop the bag into the washing machine, add water and a load of clothes, and let 'er rip.  Very convenient.

My question:  Where does the little plastic pack go?  If the companies can make a plastic pack dissolve in cold water, why do we have a landfill problem?

Million Muslim March

Surfing around the Intertubes, I started seeing reference to a Million Muslim March scheduled for September 11, 2013.  So, I went to those same intertubes and started looking for information.  I thought that this was some bad joke.  But sure enough, over at US News I found an article.  Sure enough.

The American Muslim Political Action Committee is hosting what it hopes will be a gathering of one million people in Washington, D.C., on the 12th anniversary of 9/11 to urge the government to reveal "the truth" about the attacks.

They want the truth?  The truth behind the 9/11 attacks are well documented.  What happened was that a bunch of Muslims violated US laws, hijacked aircraft and flew them into buildings, most notably the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  In doing so, they killed thousands of US citizens and woke us up to the problem of Muslim terror.  That's the Truth.

 Protesters will also denounce "FBI traps," "illegal tapping and surveilling of Muslim Americans" and "media propaganda making the word terrorist synonymous with Muslim," he said.

As far as making the word terror synonymous with the word Muslim, let me remind you that you've done that yourself.  Muslims are responsible for bringing cutting edge technology to cowardly terror attacks.  When you llook at the denomination of the 9/11 hijackers, the Boston bombers, the cowardly Muslim Major at Fort Hood, the underwear bomber, the shoe bomber, and untold thousands of nearly anonymous bombings in Iraq, Afghanistan, Indonesia, Pakistan, Palestine, India, Yemen, Kuwait, and countless other places, what word pops up?  Muslim.  If you want to make any other point, then maybe strapping your sons with bombs might be a good idea.

The simple fact is that Islam is a religion that worships a pedophile prophet.  That should tell anyone all they need to know about the religion.  It's a backward religion that promotes violence.  It treats women like chattel, it demeans children.  That's the truth.  Here's another simple truth.  In most Muslim nations, they have trouble keeping the electricity flowing, most folks live in a state of fear, and civil war and sectarian violence is common-place.

It's well and good that the promoters want a million Muslims to march on Washington.  I'm sure our President will feel right at home.  If he's not on vacation.  But let's not pretend that Muslims weren't responsible for the attack on September 11, 2001.  That's well documented history.

Sunday Morning Dawg

Yesterday started off busy, then got quiet really quickly.  After sharing a hot dog with Milady, the dawg finds a quiet spot for an afternoon's nap.

That looks like a fittinng spot to take a nap.

Runnin' and Gunnin'

Two video clips from this morning's shoot at the Cenla Sport Shooters.

First, youngest son Joey on the final stage of the shoot.  PawPaw forgot that this new phone is also a video camera.



Next clip is one challenging stage where a window closes during shooting.  Here, second son Matthew clears the course before the window slams shut.



We had a ball this morning, and we wish that more of you could join us.  This type shooting is a lot of fun.

TGIF

I'm off for the weekend, and getting ready for a shoot.  My boys and I are going to shoot with the Cenla Sports Shooters tomorrow.  I'm puttering around, making sure that I have ammo, guns, magazines, hearing protection, all the thing we need to go to a range.

Because today I carried my pistol on duty, I had to take the duty ammo out and put it back in the box.  The Sheriff gives us one box of duty ammo per qualification, and we're supposed to shoot it at the next qual.  That way, we keep fresh ammo in the pistol.  I definitely don't want to shoot that duty ammo this weekend, so I had to unload it and segregate it.  It'll get loaded back in the magazines tomorrow afternoon, late. Here's a picture of one of the stages.

That's going to be an interesting stage for sure.

Smartphone Case

Cell phones are an indispensable part of police work these days.  Rather than clog up the radio net with traffic, we're likely to use the cell phone more often than the police radio.  Yeah, cell phones are susceptible to the radio-frequency scanners, but they're less likely to be monitored than the police radio frequencies, and we're not broadcasting over the open net.  It might be your buddy, or it might be the boss, but with cell phones have changed the way that we do business.

But, you've got to carry the damned thing, and there seems to be a dearth of smartphone cases that will fit on a standard duty belt.  Before now, I've carried my cell phone in the same pocket as my little spiral ring notebook (which no self-respecting cop is ever without). But, when we bought new phones last week, and put the Otterbox cases on them, I'm having a hell of a time fitting it into that shirt pocket.  Oh, I like the new phone well enough, but it's big, especially when it's in that case.

So, I 've been surfing around looking for a case that will fit on my duty belt, and they're scarce as hen's teeth.  I finally found one at Gall's, a case made by Boston Leather, which the review tells me will fit my Samsung Galaxy with the protective case.  I ordered it, and it should be in the mailbox in a week or so.

Hey, Safariland.  Y'all need to make a series of smartphone cases for commonly used phones.  I bet you'd sell thousands of them.

Shop Rags

There are very few things as valuable as a shop rag.  It's used for a variety of purposes, but the whole idea is that when it's done, you throw it away without a second thought.  Sure, shop rags can be washed, but eventually they're done.  Throw it away .

I make mine from old tee shirts.  I can get 10 shop rags from a single shirt.  When a tee-shirt has reached the end of it's service life, it goes under the scissors.  First I cut off the sleeves, which make two small rags.  Then I cut the shirt across the top and sides, which gives me two big pieces of cloth.  Cut each of those into quarters, and that's a total of 10.  Four quarters, plus the sleeves.  One of those rags has a pocket, because I use pocket tee-shirts.

I make heavy-duty shop rags from the legs of old blue-jeans.  Sometimes, a piece of good, blue denim is just the ticket for a particular project.  Gun-cleaning, refinishing furniture, light mechanic work, there's nothing like a good shop rag, and while blue denim is durable, there's some times when you just want a piece of nice tee-shirt.  Just a few minutes ago, I looked down at an old tee-shirt I was wearing and decided that it should never again be seen in polite company.  I took out my scissors and converted it into shop rage.  Now it's got a new life and a new reason for existence.

You're welcome.

A Scale

I've been writing about guns for many years, and I've been blogging about guns for many years.  One of the things we talk about is weight of a particular rifle, scope, sling combination and while I had the ability to weigh a gun, I didn't have the ability to post a visual image of that weight.  Until recently.

I told my mother that I was looking for an old-style scale and she went into her closet, pulled out a scale and handed it to me.  How cool.

Now, if I want to talk about a rifle that weighs 8 lbs, 4 oz with sling, mounts and scope, I have a way to show that rifle on the scale.  Old-time gun writers used this method and I think that it's simply the best way to show the weight of a particular rifle.  Like this.

That's the rifle I call the ugly rifle.  It's a Savage 11, bone stock in .308 with a Weaver Buck Commander scope, good steel Leupold mounts, and it weighs 8 lbs, 4 oz with sling.  Ammo would add a little more weight, but we never count the weight of the cartridges anyway.  Of course, you can click the picture to make it larger.

Thanks, Momma!

Back to Work

One of the benefits of being a school-house cop is that we get K-time.  All that extra time we work gets put in an account, and we take off during the summer.  During the school year we accumulate a bunch of extra hours and we take those off when school is out.  Today that comes to an end.  The teachers report today for inservice training, to get their classrooms ready, and to make preparation for the kids to show up on Friday.  So do the Resource Officers.  In another hour or so, I'm going to pull on my boots, strap on my duty belt, and go to a meeting with all the other school officer.  Summer's over, at least from a holiday perspective, and it's time to get back in harness.  It's been fun, but I'm ready to hit it hard, get it done.

I wonder what changes they made this year?  I guess I'll find out in another couple of  hours.

Technology

I'm still learning this new phone, and I'll probably be learning it for a while.  There's lots of bells and whistles on this thing, and honestly, these things have become more personal assistant than telephone.  Really, talking on it is a fairly minor part of the whole experience.  It's a telephone, for sure, but they've crammed a lot of other technology in that little box.  I doubt that I'll ever use half the capability of the device, but what I'm seeing is impressive.  And, this isn't even this year's technology.  This is last year's tech.   It's a phone, a camera, a GPS, a compass, an email device, a video-watcher, an internet browser, the list just goes on and on.

Dad was a telephone man, worked all his life for the local Ma Bell affiliate, and back in the '70s he told me that one day we'd all carry a phone in our pocket.  I thought that the old man was bonkers, but his predictions have paid out.  He got to see some of the results of the technology before he died, but I'd love to let him play with a smart phone.  He was an early-adopter of technology, and I believe that he'd have the latest and best smartphone in his pocket.  He enjoyed gadgetry, and when he worked for Mother Bell, he'd go off to schools at Bell Labs, and come back and tell us the wonders of micro switches and computers.

Anyway, I've been playing with this device, and evidently, it's got two cameras.  You can take something called a Selfie.  They're not very flattering, and as we're talking about un-flattering photographs, PawPaw is trying to expand the knowlege base.  Milady's been gone this weekend and when she returned last night, she brought me a hat, given as a joke gift by one of her cousins.  I think it's quite stylish, but I'm not sure where I'll wear it.

Editing these things is a problem.  The subject matter is lousy and the camera wants to flip the picture on it's side.  For the time being I think I'll stick with my digital SLR.  I understand that camera, and it orients the pictures the way I want them oriented.

The Bob Job

Years ago I obtained a Smith and Wesson Model 60 revolver.  I carried it for many years, used it in a plainclothes role as a police officer, and carried it on duty after my retirement.  You can read the first chapter of its life with me at the Snubnose Files, where they asked me to write an article on my little pistol.

Everyone has seen these little pistols, the first stainless steel revolver made by Smith and Wesson.

Until today, that's what it looked like.  Classic, spur hammer revolver.

Last year, my daughter-in-law was looking for a pistol suitable for concealed carry.  She had shot her husband's model 638, and she had shot my steel Model 60.  She preferred the Model 60 for the extra few ounces of the steel frame.  She said that those few ounces moderated the recoil of self-defense ammo, and I have to agree with her.  Good, clean Model 60s are rare as hen's teeth around here, and I had recently acquired a Model 38, so I passed the Model 60 to her.  She carried it for her CCW training, and she's carried it since, but that hammer spur caused her problems while she was working.  That little spur kept working itself into her, and as she does a lot of bending and stooping at her job, she decided that she wanted the hammer bobbed.

Today, after church, the sons and I got out Kuhnhausen's manual, and did a quick read-up on the project.  My elder son is a wizard with metal, and we enlisted his help in this delicate project.  In about twenty minutes we had the hammer out of the frame, then we let him chuck the hammer in a lead-lined vise and let him work his wizardry.  For about an hour, sparks flew, and motors whined, and in short order he had removed that offending spur.

I think he did a great job.  The offending spur is gone and what's left is nicely rounded, de-horned and blends niceley wit the curves of the hammer.  Here's a closer view.

I don't  think we could have paid for better work.  It's altogether a worthy project for a Sunday afternoon, and certainly worth the meal I fed him after the job was done.    I'm very pleased.

Aw, heck, one more picture, from the very back of the pistol.

 Is that good work, or what?  My children are the greatest blessing of my life.

Sunday Morning

About time to head to church.  As it turns out, mine is a little brick church in the woods.



After church, some of the kids and grandkids are coming over.  PawPaw is going to fire up the pit and cook hot dogs and sausage.  Cut up an onion.  Heat up some chili.   Big ole bag of chips.

Y'all enjoy Sunday.

Sunday Morning Dawg

The dog has been morose this weekend.  He's beside himself that he can't find Milady, the being that gives meaning to his world.  She went to a family reunion in Alabama this weekend with her brother, Bill.  I've told the dog a dozen times that she'll be home this afternoon, but he is still looking for her.  Beside himself with worry.

When we're outside he looks in all the places she might be.

Wandering from one spot to the other, looking to see if she sneaked in when he wasn't looking.

I know, pup, it's too quiet in this house when she's not here.  She'll be home late this afternoon.

Saturday Sleep-In

I slept this morning to the glorious hour of 7:00, which might as well be noon, on my schedule.  I'm one of those guys who is usually up at 5:00, coffee and morning routine by 6:00 and ready to start the day.  Today I feel positively lazy and have nothing on my dance card.  Yesterday I was busier than a cat in a sandbox, watching a grandkid and taking care of household chores.  It's amazing how much energy a 5-year-old can put in the house.  After his dad showed up to take him home, I went to the auction, hung out with the guys that run it, and we went to eat afterwards, breakfast style, at a local dive.  I got back to the house about midnight, scratched the dog and went to bed.  Today, I'm going to revel in my sloth, do some light housework, and piddle in my shop.  I'm 'bachin' it' this weekend as Milady is gone to a family reunion.

In Thursday's post, the one with the video, Joe Mamma asks the question:

The low shooting was pretty interesting. My guess is that the video was not garden variety annual requalification....Do cops talk about or practice those kinds of things?

I don't know about all cops, but I practice it, and I thought it was interesting that the guys in the vid were getting as close to the ground as they could.  That's a good idea.  If you pick a standard sedan, get down and look under the vehicle.  You've got about eight inches of ground clearance, maybe less.  So, you've got to get low, much lower than a standard prone position.  The simplest way is to roll onto your shoulder and shoot the carbine sideways.  This causes some problems because your sights are normally atop the rifle and in this position they're on the side of the rifle, and the ejection port is pointed directly at the ground.

For lack of a better term, I call it "cruiser prone", and while it opens up opportunities, it also presents problems.  Still, low is good, and if you can get down and start taking out ankles, the gunfight will probably be over sooner, rather than later.  Use available cover, return effective fire, and make the bad guys worry about you rather than inflict damage on innocents.  Using a carbine is one thing, but for the true effect, shoot your shotgun like that.  It's a whole 'nuther experience and one that has to be felt to be believed.

great Video

I was surfing around, looking for something this morning, and I stumbled upon this video.  Great feel-good video, with guns, guns, and guns.



More later.  I think I'm going to the range.

Hot

Warm today, but this is August.  A screen capture from the Weather Underground.  The official recording station is just a mile up the road, north of my little acre.

That's an official 99F, with a heat index of 106.  I finished my outdoor work today before noon and headed inside where I started digging around in the fridge for a noon-day snack.  I found some left-over chicken salad, with some left-over diced tomatoes, then looked some more and found some left-over taco shells and a small packet of guacamole in the cheese drawer.  Game on!  Chicken salad tacos for lunch.

It's hotter than a whatchacallit out there, and I don't intend to spend much time sitting on the veranda this afternoon.  Just not interested.  It is August, after all, and my Momma didn't raise any fools.

Alexander Retiring

My US Representative, Rodney Alexander (R) is retiring this year.  Thank God.  Rodney was originally a Democrat, but changed his party affiliation in 2004 in a blatant political maneuver.  He's always been a Democrat at heart, but is very good at getting re-elected.    He'll say whatever you want him to say, as long as you vote for him.  I often looked for the string in his back, and wondered who was pulling it.

“Rather than producing tangible solutions to better this nation, partisan posturing has created a legislative standstill,” he said. “Unfortunately, I do not foresee this environment to change anytime soon. I have decided not to seek reelection, so that another may put forth ideas on how to break through the gridlock and bring about positive change for our country.”

Rodney is the guy, when taken to task about his pork-ish ways at a local Tea Party rally, defended his actions, saying that he spelled it 'PORC' for Projects of Regional Concern.  He was booed lustily from the stage and that's the last time that we heard of PORC.  His district (LA-5) is hugely conservative, which meant that Rodney had to suppress his basic instincts.  He's an old-style populist southern Democrat who found it convenient to don the Republican mantle. 

It'll be interesting to see who announces to fill his seat.  Let the games begin.

New Phones

Like many Americans, Milady and I have a Verizon plan, and we went into Best Buy yesterday to see what's up.  For the past two years, I had been using a Blackberry phone and wasn't really impressed with it.  Aggravated by it, but not impressed.  Milady had been using a Samsung slider, but didn't like the speed of the device.  She's an RN and wanted the ability to access data a whole lot faster than she could with her old phone.

We walked out an hour later with two new Samsung Galaxy S3 smartphones.  I've been tinkering with mine a little bit, and the learning curve is steep.  I'll get the hang of it, but this thing has a lot of bells and whistles.  I doubt I'll ever use 10% of it.  We wanted to get cases for the phone, but the very helpful lady at the store told us "sshhh.  Amazon.", so I'm about to order some Otterbox cases, as soon as Milady decides on a color.

Here we go again.  Zoom, zoom.

Procedure Clear

I just got back from the hospital from my colonoscopy.  Everything is fine, no problem with me medically.

I knew that, but bowed to pressure to get it done.  As it turns out, it was totally unnecessary.  A waste of time, money and effort.  They found norhing.  NOTHING, which I could have told them last week, but evidently no one believes me, they've got to put me on a table, anesthetize me, and see for themselves.  Which as it turned out, is just exactly what I told them. 

We got to the hospital at 6:00 and they did they had me sign some releases, took some blood, then put me in a Day Surgery room.  Told me to put on the gown and they'd be back in a few minutes.  Sure enough, they came back in a few minutes to start the IV and to have me tell them my date of birth and the last four of my social security number.  Then they left, told me that I'd be going to the scope room shortly.  That was a damned lie.  Four hours later I was still in that room, starting to get a case of the screaming red-ass.

When I have a procedure done, I want to know what's going to happen.  Down to the nitty-gritty.  No one told me that I'd be spending four friggin hours in a small room waiting for them to get their act together.  Some one else's problem is not my problem, and while I feel sorry for them, that doesn't mean that I want to be pushed to the back of the line.  Even if they die, to me they're just another obit in tomorrow's paper.

I got to the hospital at 6:00 and was pushed out the door at 12:20, after the entire nursing staff told me that I'd be home at noon.  Evidently, lying to patients isn't a problem for nurses.  I'm tempted to write the nursing board and put the whole Day Surgery staff on report.

They roll me to the scope room at 10:45 local and push me into a room.  I a few minutes they tell me they're going to have to move me.  My scope room is ready.  Turns out they've put me in a storage room, a broom closet.  They have a multi-million dollar facility and the best they can do is to put a pissed-off patient in a broom closet.  They wheel me to the scope room, and there's a really nice lttle lady in there that wants to make small-talk.  I tell her that she's got a truly angry patient, and all I want from her is cold, efficient professionalism.  I'm not interested in her grandkids, or her anecdotes, just do your damned job and let's get this show on the road.  She tell me that it isn't her fault, and I tell her that I'm not assigning fault, I'm simply making sure that the job gets done.  Anything that gets between the job and completion is totally unacceptable.

The Doctor comes in shortly, and tells me that he had a bad surgery this morning.  Again, not my problem.  His problem.  "Let's get this done, doc."  He gives me some anesthesia, and I'm out like a light.  Wake up in Day Surgery.  They want me to fart.  No problem.  I can fart on command, so I rip off a couple of good ones, ask the nurse if that's sufficient, and tell her to give me my pants.  I'm outta here.  I walked out of the hospital at 12:10, fully ten minutes later than the day surgery nurses told me I'd be home.  Another lie, and they lie to patients without even a pause.  Some might say that it's an honest mistake, but if you don't know to a certainty, keep your damned mouth shut.

They push me to the curb.  I get in the car, come home and make myself a couple of fired egg sandwiches.

Now, to a medical certainty, there is nothing wrong with my colon.  I knew that last week, but again, no one listens to the patient.  However, it is now a medical certainty, and I'm still pissed off at the inconvenience, the incompetence, the lack of patient care, and the purely disinterested way that modern medicine looks at a patient.

Sunday Morning Dawg

We hosted a birthday party yesterday, and Milady made a big ol' bodacious cookie cake at the request of the birthday boy.  The dog, of course was hoping that something hit the floor.

As the Shih Tzu is descended from the Kitchen Midden Dog, he's fulfilling his destiny, waiting patiently on the kitchen floor. 

Saturday Sitting-Around

Two cups of coffee, and the morning paper.  I hear grandkids puttering around in the back of the house, and I know I'm going to have to get busy in a few minutes.  I've conned a teenaged grandkid into mowing the back yard in exchange for a ten-spot when he's finished.  I hear the push mower running now, and there's very little grass in that yard.  Birthday party later today, and we're expecting about 20 folks for the celebration.  PawPaw's cooking hamburgers at the request of the birthday boy, who is turning eleven.  PawPaw makes very good hamburgers. 

The weather-weenies tell me that the temps will be 97F this afternoon, and with the humidity stuck at 85%, it will feel like a balmy 110F.  Luckily, the barbeque area will be in shade by the time I fire off the pit, at about 5:00 p.m. local.  We'll eat about 6:00, with birthday cake to follow. 

PawPaw is expecting a small package today from the UPS guy.  The tracking site tells me that it's out-for-delivery.  Rifle bullets for this hunting season, along with spare turrets for the handgun press.  I want to set up the spare turrets for .45 ACP, .38 Special, and .44 Magnum.  No sense unscrewing dies when spare turrets are so cheap.

My biggest concern today is what I'm going to eat for lunch.

Charlie Rangel, Idiot

Charlie Rangel is back in the news.  You remember Charlie, right?  The Democrat Rep from Harlem, who doesn't know American history, but was recently censured by the House for violating numerous ethics rules, not to mention the laws of New York.

Well, Charlie says that the Tea Party is the same bunch that fought for segregation during the Civil Rights movement.  And he used the term 'white cracker' improperly.  We all know that the 'crackers' are the group that settled Florida, as oppposed to the snowbirds who come down in the winter, or to retire. One of my daughters-in-law is a 'cracker', a sobriquet she proudly claims.

Charlie's mouth is open, because he can't believe that the truth of the matter, is that by a huge majority, the Democratic party was the party that fought for segregation in the South.  It's an inconvenient truth, but the truth nevertheless.  I feel sorry for guys like Rangel, because they've so bought into the revisionist history of segregation in the US that they don't know that the Democratic party was the party of Jim Crow and fire hoses.  He'd do well to learn the history of the party that he swear fealty to.

Frosting

Elias was helping Milady frost a birthday cake, and managed to get a little on himself.

I wonder if it was any good?  We'll find out tomorrow.

More Errands

I started mowing grass this morning, and one of my spindles broke.  The little star that keeps the blade aligned turned loose and the blade would freewheel on the shaft.  That's no good.  I took the shaft off and headed to town to see my parts guy.

On the way to town, I remembered a camping store that's been in business for years.  They were in business in the late '60s and still bravely hang on.  I thought they might have a Convert-a-ball in 1 7/8th so I pulled the truck into their lot.

The Convert-A-Ball is a hitch system that uses a shaft with a hole.  The ball fits over the shaft and a pin secures the ball to the shaft.  You can get balls in all the popular sizes, and they all fit the shaft.  Reese has a similar system that is found in most box stores.  It's not the same, and Reese sells Convert-A-Ball hitches as well.  Online the best price I could find was $9.75 and shipping would drive that to over $20.00.

So, I swung the truck into the camping store and went inside with my 2" ball in my hand.  The lady said that they quit carrying the Convert-A-Ball system ten years ago, then she stopped herself.  "Hang on, let me look in the back."  She came back in a few minutes with a 1 7/8 inch ball for my system.  She charged me $6.95 and I whistled myself out of the store.

Stopped by the lawn mower parts store and let him abuse me for $50.00 for a new spindle.

Then I stopped by the pharmacy to fill a prescription.  I need something called Golytely, which I understand is a misnomer.  I'm turning 60 in December, and Milady has decided that I'm overdue for a colonoscopy.  I'm scheduled for the procedure on Monday, so I do the prep on Sunday.  The less said about  that whole process, the better.