I met Milady online. Yeah, when I was single, I put up an ad on Yahoo! Personals. Anyway we hooked up online and chatted for a couple of weeks, then decided to meet in person. That went well and we started dating. One of her favorite hangouts was a place called the Chalet Lounge.
Back in the days of my mis-spent youth, the Chalet Lounge was a hell-hole. 'nuff said about that. Over the years, the management has changed and the Chalet has become a redneck/working class/middle aged biker bar. It ain't quiet, but it ain't dangerous, either. They have a pretty good house band, the drinks are honestly mixed, and the management doesn't tolerate any shit. The manager will form a posse from the guys at the bar and eject a troublemaker face-first into the gravel parking lot where the Alexandria PD will police-up what's left.
A fellow can still hook-up at the Chalet. American society being what it is, at any time there is a representative sample of unattached American females, doing what single people do. These women are the cream of the crop. Experienced in American culture, and with the singe marks of being burned before, they can separate the bullshit from the bull in short order. It doesn't take them long to cull a fellow. These gals love to play, but they ain't toys. If you trifle with one of them, you're apt to get hurt.
Anyway, one day last week, Milady and I were wandering aimlessly about town and we decided to pop in to the Chalet to pay our respects to the management. We arrived and the manager, Larry, hugged my lady's neck. "Damn, girl, it's been a long time."
Larry shook my hand and we started catching up on news and views in Central Louisiana. We talked about how Milady's schedule and mine don't often mesh, and that we just don't have as much time as we did when we were single, yada, yada, yada.
"Besides, Larry," I told him. "I can't come in here alone, anymore. I'm a-skeered."
"Skeered of what?" Larry asked.
"Them Floozies down the bar. If I come in here by myself, they might hurt me."
Milady patted my hand. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll protect you from them Floozies. You stick with me, you'll be okay."
Evidently, that was just exactly what she wanted to hear.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
American dream - Paying taxes??
I was just over at Facing South, which bills itself as "blogging for a progressive South" and in this post, stumbled upon this hook line.
I've seen taxes viewed as inevitable, as confiscatory, as unconstitutional, but never as part of the American dream. What kid dreams of growing up to pay taxes?
Then I started chuckling to myself. I couldn't help it. I read blogs for information and entertainment. This was pure entertainment.
Line after line of pure Fisk-able thoughts, loosely assembled with a tainted understanding of American culture. We find multiple disconnects in adjacent sentences, such as this lovely:
I read some good progressive blogs, but this ain't one of them. This is pure entertainment.
The essence of the American dream is that every child born should have an equal shot at success, and that every person should pay their fair share of taxes, right?I had to back away from the screen and rub my eyes. Part of the American dream is paying taxes? Not any dream I have ever seen in print.
I've seen taxes viewed as inevitable, as confiscatory, as unconstitutional, but never as part of the American dream. What kid dreams of growing up to pay taxes?
Then I started chuckling to myself. I couldn't help it. I read blogs for information and entertainment. This was pure entertainment.
Line after line of pure Fisk-able thoughts, loosely assembled with a tainted understanding of American culture. We find multiple disconnects in adjacent sentences, such as this lovely:
The scandal season is still in full bloom, claiming ethically challenged lawmakers across the political aisle. Two recent items of a Southern flavor (hat tip to TPM Muckraker):First of all, West Virginia isn't a Southern State. Folks from New York or Maryland might consider it Southern, but no one from the deep south would even consider it on the list. Second, it seems that she is complaining about a scandal affecting a Democrat. Then we find it connected, somehow, to DoD expenditures. The disconnects are stunning in their breadth and mystifying in their complexity.
(1) Rep. Alan Mollohan (D-WV) is in deep trouble, says today's New York Times, for funneling half a billion dollars to his favorite non-profits in the state. Small beans compared to, say, the amount the Pentagon has misplaced for the Iraq war in the last couple years, but still unseamly.
I read some good progressive blogs, but this ain't one of them. This is pure entertainment.
Blemished Bullets
From time to time we come across a good deal in bullets, and blemished bullets are one of those good deals.
Sometimes the bullet manufacturers close out a particular bullet, or a run of bullets isn't quite up to specs, or a contract was cancelled and they find themselves overstock. They sell those bullets to jobbers at a discount, with the caveat that the manufacturer not be identified.
Lock Stock and Barrel has a blemished bullet sale going on. I decided to stock up while the stock was available. I wanted some .308 180 grain bullets and some .243 100 grain bullets. I tried clicking on their link and found that the .308 bullets were out of stock, so I called the 1-800 number and talked to a wonderful sales rep who told me that the .30 caliber bullets were sold out. I asked about the .243 bullets and she told me that they had about 30,000 of those. So, I ordered 500 of them. They come come in the door at about 9 cents each, with shipping, which is considerable less expensive than buying them at 13 cents to 15 cents apiece. 500 bullets in that caliber should last me a while.
The nice lady at Lock, Stock and Barrel did promise me that they would update the webpage. I asked if they were anticipating getting any more blem bullets in the near future. She told me that those contracts are let on a bid basis and they never know in advance when blem bullets become available or if they will win the bid when it becomes available. She told me to keep checking back, but most of the time, when the bullets are gone, they are gone forever.
Still, it is a good deal if you can find it. Lock, Stock and Barrel has treated me right with past purchases. They seem to be a good business to work with. Tell 'em Pawpaw sent you.
If anyone else knows of available blemished bullets for sale, let me know in comments or by email. I'm always looking for a bargain.
Sometimes the bullet manufacturers close out a particular bullet, or a run of bullets isn't quite up to specs, or a contract was cancelled and they find themselves overstock. They sell those bullets to jobbers at a discount, with the caveat that the manufacturer not be identified.
Lock Stock and Barrel has a blemished bullet sale going on. I decided to stock up while the stock was available. I wanted some .308 180 grain bullets and some .243 100 grain bullets. I tried clicking on their link and found that the .308 bullets were out of stock, so I called the 1-800 number and talked to a wonderful sales rep who told me that the .30 caliber bullets were sold out. I asked about the .243 bullets and she told me that they had about 30,000 of those. So, I ordered 500 of them. They come come in the door at about 9 cents each, with shipping, which is considerable less expensive than buying them at 13 cents to 15 cents apiece. 500 bullets in that caliber should last me a while.
The nice lady at Lock, Stock and Barrel did promise me that they would update the webpage. I asked if they were anticipating getting any more blem bullets in the near future. She told me that those contracts are let on a bid basis and they never know in advance when blem bullets become available or if they will win the bid when it becomes available. She told me to keep checking back, but most of the time, when the bullets are gone, they are gone forever.
Still, it is a good deal if you can find it. Lock, Stock and Barrel has treated me right with past purchases. They seem to be a good business to work with. Tell 'em Pawpaw sent you.
If anyone else knows of available blemished bullets for sale, let me know in comments or by email. I'm always looking for a bargain.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Well, duuh!
From the Dead Pelican, we get this story from the LSU Reville. It seems that students are being denied financial aid because of drug convictions. Well, duuh!
Here is the difference. Society, through our elected officials, imposes sanctions against certain types of behavior. From Congress down to the city council, laws and ordinances are passed that criminalize certain behavior.
There is a civics lesson involved here. If you don't like the law, work to change it. In the meantime, comply with it. If you don't comply with the law, then don't complain when society extracts sanctions. When you ignore the law, you risk becoming entangled in the criminal justice system as a defendant. You become a criminal.
As a cop, I see laws come and go all the time. What was criminal behavior ten years ago is now legal behavior in some circumstances. Why? Because the law was changed. If, for example, the Congress decided next week to decriminalize the possession of marijuana then I would scratch that law off my list. No problem, one less law for me to enforce, so I can spend more time protecting and serving the citizens.
Thousands of Louisiana students have been denied federal financial aid because of drug convictions, according to statistics released by Students for Sensible Drug Policy.Actually, it isn't a bad as it sounds. Most of the students are responsible enough to avoid a criminal record. We learn that;
Of the 1,333,912 Louisiana applicants, 2,890 students were denied aid. Louisiana had 0.22 percent of applicants denied, which is slightly lower than the national average of 0.25 percent.Which isn't so bad, once you think about it.
Karen Malovrh, National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws chapter coordinator, said NORML agrees with SSDP’s initiatives to change the Aid Elimination Penalty. “The numbers are really interesting because they show that there are many students out there who are losing out because they made a mistake,” Malovrh said.Once again, we have someone equating criminal conduct with making a mistake. There is a difference. A big difference.
Here is the difference. Society, through our elected officials, imposes sanctions against certain types of behavior. From Congress down to the city council, laws and ordinances are passed that criminalize certain behavior.
There is a civics lesson involved here. If you don't like the law, work to change it. In the meantime, comply with it. If you don't comply with the law, then don't complain when society extracts sanctions. When you ignore the law, you risk becoming entangled in the criminal justice system as a defendant. You become a criminal.
As a cop, I see laws come and go all the time. What was criminal behavior ten years ago is now legal behavior in some circumstances. Why? Because the law was changed. If, for example, the Congress decided next week to decriminalize the possession of marijuana then I would scratch that law off my list. No problem, one less law for me to enforce, so I can spend more time protecting and serving the citizens.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Neck expanding
When we reload, the brass is "sprung" in that it had to expand to release the bullet that we last fired. This makes the cartridge slightly oversize, and before we reload the bullet we have to bring that dimension down to properly hold the bullet.
Full length resizing or neck sizing takes care of this little problem. The neck of the brass is brought back, generally, to 1/1000th (one one thousandth) of an inch smaller than the bullet we intend to load. In a common .30 caliber cartridge that seats a .308 bullet, the neck will be sized to .307. Loading the bullet will provide the tension needed to hold the bullet in place, unless we intend to crimp it for use in lever action or pump action weapons.
We're not talking about crimping today, though. That is a whole nuther problem that we will deal with in the future.
When we reload a cast bullet, that sizing we did earlier makes our job harder. Almost impossible. A cast bullet is softer than the cartridge brass and the bullet won't size the case neck. The case neck will shave lead off one side of the bullet, rendering our carefully cast and sorted bullet unstable. An unstable bullet flies God-knows-where, which is not conducive to accuracy.
So, we must flare that case neck. We make a funnel of it, wider at the mouth than necessary to give our cast bullet a chance to start into the neck without shaving lead. Some folks just use a screwdriver tip to expand the brass. This is certainly a useful skill, but Lyman makes something called an M-Die that is found in popular calibers and is designed just for this task. Lee also makes a die, a universal neck expansion die.
Remember, in flaring the case neck, go easy. Only induce enough expansion to start the bullet by hand. Too much expansion doesn't help the bullet, and work-hardens the brass. Just enough expansion is what we are looking for.
Last year, I ordered the Lee die and I am very happy with it. It comes with two expanders that will expand brass from .22 caliber up past .45 caliber. The die and expanders are constructed so that you can set it up to resize the shortest brass or the longest brass.
The simple instructions come with the die and by using one or both of the expander buttons in one of several configurations, we are able to simply expand the case neck just enough to hand-start the bullet in the case neck before we seat it.
This photo shows a cast bullet started in the mouth of a .30-30 case. The expanded portion is barely visible in the picture. As this bullet is seated, the seating die will "iron" out the flare, and the cartridge will be ready for crimping.
If you don't have an expanding die, or are looking for one prior to using cast bullets, I recommend the Lee Die. It has served me well since I got it.
Full length resizing or neck sizing takes care of this little problem. The neck of the brass is brought back, generally, to 1/1000th (one one thousandth) of an inch smaller than the bullet we intend to load. In a common .30 caliber cartridge that seats a .308 bullet, the neck will be sized to .307. Loading the bullet will provide the tension needed to hold the bullet in place, unless we intend to crimp it for use in lever action or pump action weapons.
We're not talking about crimping today, though. That is a whole nuther problem that we will deal with in the future.
When we reload a cast bullet, that sizing we did earlier makes our job harder. Almost impossible. A cast bullet is softer than the cartridge brass and the bullet won't size the case neck. The case neck will shave lead off one side of the bullet, rendering our carefully cast and sorted bullet unstable. An unstable bullet flies God-knows-where, which is not conducive to accuracy.
So, we must flare that case neck. We make a funnel of it, wider at the mouth than necessary to give our cast bullet a chance to start into the neck without shaving lead. Some folks just use a screwdriver tip to expand the brass. This is certainly a useful skill, but Lyman makes something called an M-Die that is found in popular calibers and is designed just for this task. Lee also makes a die, a universal neck expansion die.
Remember, in flaring the case neck, go easy. Only induce enough expansion to start the bullet by hand. Too much expansion doesn't help the bullet, and work-hardens the brass. Just enough expansion is what we are looking for.
Last year, I ordered the Lee die and I am very happy with it. It comes with two expanders that will expand brass from .22 caliber up past .45 caliber. The die and expanders are constructed so that you can set it up to resize the shortest brass or the longest brass.
The simple instructions come with the die and by using one or both of the expander buttons in one of several configurations, we are able to simply expand the case neck just enough to hand-start the bullet in the case neck before we seat it.
This photo shows a cast bullet started in the mouth of a .30-30 case. The expanded portion is barely visible in the picture. As this bullet is seated, the seating die will "iron" out the flare, and the cartridge will be ready for crimping.
If you don't have an expanding die, or are looking for one prior to using cast bullets, I recommend the Lee Die. It has served me well since I got it.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Evening reloading
For those of you who have been reading this little blog, you know I recently cast some 311041 bullets with a new mold. You also know that I recently purchased some surplus IMR 4895 powder.
IMR 4895 is a good powder for cast bullet loads in the venerable .30-30 Winchester. I did my research and found that a charge of 25.0 grains of 4895 ought to give me about 1500-1600 fps with that 311041 bullet. My goal is to approach 1700 fps with no leading. So, I started low, and I'll work up as I learn how the load reacts in my gun.
Anybody can buy .30-30 ammo anywhere, for almost a pittance. That factory ammo will produce 2200 fps any day of the week. Folks want to know why anyone would purposely reload ammo that is of lesser performance than the factory fodder. Well, it turns out there are some pretty good reasons.
1) Anyone can buy factory ammo.
2) Reloading saves money in that the per-round cost is reduced over the cost of factory ammo.
3) Cast bullets are effective for a number of purposes, including but not limited to plinking, target work, practice, and teaching novice shooters.
4) Cast bullets are less expensive than jacketed bullets. I make mine out of lead scap that I scrounge at various places. The cost of a lead bullet made at home is virtually zero.
5) Cast bullets are effective for hunting within their capabilities. Virtually every game animal in the world has fallen to a lead bullet. Jacketed bullets were virtually unheard of prior to 1890.
So, tonite I went outside and loaded some home-cast bullets into .30-30 cases. It took about an hour to load a box of ammo, but during the process a buddy pulled up in the driveway and I went out to talk with him, then the neighbor kids came over on bicycles to see what was going on. It was a thoroughly enjoyable hour and I have some ammo to test this weekend.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
IMR 4895 is a good powder for cast bullet loads in the venerable .30-30 Winchester. I did my research and found that a charge of 25.0 grains of 4895 ought to give me about 1500-1600 fps with that 311041 bullet. My goal is to approach 1700 fps with no leading. So, I started low, and I'll work up as I learn how the load reacts in my gun.
Anybody can buy .30-30 ammo anywhere, for almost a pittance. That factory ammo will produce 2200 fps any day of the week. Folks want to know why anyone would purposely reload ammo that is of lesser performance than the factory fodder. Well, it turns out there are some pretty good reasons.
1) Anyone can buy factory ammo.
2) Reloading saves money in that the per-round cost is reduced over the cost of factory ammo.
3) Cast bullets are effective for a number of purposes, including but not limited to plinking, target work, practice, and teaching novice shooters.
4) Cast bullets are less expensive than jacketed bullets. I make mine out of lead scap that I scrounge at various places. The cost of a lead bullet made at home is virtually zero.
5) Cast bullets are effective for hunting within their capabilities. Virtually every game animal in the world has fallen to a lead bullet. Jacketed bullets were virtually unheard of prior to 1890.
So, tonite I went outside and loaded some home-cast bullets into .30-30 cases. It took about an hour to load a box of ammo, but during the process a buddy pulled up in the driveway and I went out to talk with him, then the neighbor kids came over on bicycles to see what was going on. It was a thoroughly enjoyable hour and I have some ammo to test this weekend.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Duke vs Edwards
Politics in Louisiana makes for strange bedfellows, and what our elections lack in rational substance, they sure make up in pure entertainment value. Here in the Bayou State, politics is a spectator sport.
Could anyone forget that Sunday morning in 1991 when we woke up to realize that we had a run-off for governor and we had to choose between the Grand Klaxon of the Klu Klux Klan, David Duke, and the most corrupt governor in recent history, Edwin Edwards. What a disaster, what a choice. No one with any semblance of conscience could vote for Edwin, but the alternative was even worse. Many of us gagged our way to the polls that November morning. I voted that day for Edwin, hoping that the poll would burn to the ground before my vote was counted.
Then, there was the mayoral race in Sunset La, that when all the ballots were tabulated, we discovered that more votes had been cast than the registered voters eligible in the town.
Or, the district judgeship election in Coushatta, where the issue was decided by one vote. One vote. The parole officer there knew that dozens of ineligible parolees had voted. He of course, wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to be the prime witness in a judicial challenge of a judicial race.
Well, the voters of New Orleans have handed us another one.
Ray-Ray (chocolate city) Nagin vs Mitch (my sister the Senator) Landrieu.
Nagin plays on the black vote, and Landrieu ...(wait for it).... plays on the black vote. Sister Mary was beaten by five points outside of Orleans, and New Orleans got out the vote with the school buses that Nagin drowned, to elect Mary to the Senate. Who'd a thunk it? Mary won by 10,000, and 100,000 came from Orleans parish. What a coincidence.
Paul, over at Whizbang, gives us the scoop on the race, from an insider perspective. If you think the pundits in the big daily papers have a clue what is going on, you are dead wrong. Hell, even the Times Picayune is going to have trouble calling this one. For the best idea of what is going on, watch the betting in Las Vegas. They don't have a clue either, but at least small money is riding on the election there. There ain't no small money left in this race. The big boys have come out to play.
Anyway, we now have two caricatures of politics in Louisiana locked in a nine-point mayors race. It's going to be interesting, that is for damned sure. It's going to be a disaster for New Orleans, that is for damned sure.
This race is as screwed up as Hogan's Goat. Nowhere but in Louisiana... at least I don't have to pull a lever.
Could anyone forget that Sunday morning in 1991 when we woke up to realize that we had a run-off for governor and we had to choose between the Grand Klaxon of the Klu Klux Klan, David Duke, and the most corrupt governor in recent history, Edwin Edwards. What a disaster, what a choice. No one with any semblance of conscience could vote for Edwin, but the alternative was even worse. Many of us gagged our way to the polls that November morning. I voted that day for Edwin, hoping that the poll would burn to the ground before my vote was counted.
Then, there was the mayoral race in Sunset La, that when all the ballots were tabulated, we discovered that more votes had been cast than the registered voters eligible in the town.
Or, the district judgeship election in Coushatta, where the issue was decided by one vote. One vote. The parole officer there knew that dozens of ineligible parolees had voted. He of course, wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to be the prime witness in a judicial challenge of a judicial race.
Well, the voters of New Orleans have handed us another one.
Ray-Ray (chocolate city) Nagin vs Mitch (my sister the Senator) Landrieu.
Nagin plays on the black vote, and Landrieu ...(wait for it).... plays on the black vote. Sister Mary was beaten by five points outside of Orleans, and New Orleans got out the vote with the school buses that Nagin drowned, to elect Mary to the Senate. Who'd a thunk it? Mary won by 10,000, and 100,000 came from Orleans parish. What a coincidence.
Paul, over at Whizbang, gives us the scoop on the race, from an insider perspective. If you think the pundits in the big daily papers have a clue what is going on, you are dead wrong. Hell, even the Times Picayune is going to have trouble calling this one. For the best idea of what is going on, watch the betting in Las Vegas. They don't have a clue either, but at least small money is riding on the election there. There ain't no small money left in this race. The big boys have come out to play.
Anyway, we now have two caricatures of politics in Louisiana locked in a nine-point mayors race. It's going to be interesting, that is for damned sure. It's going to be a disaster for New Orleans, that is for damned sure.
This race is as screwed up as Hogan's Goat. Nowhere but in Louisiana... at least I don't have to pull a lever.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
New Orleans returns
I'm watching the New Orleans returns and I am reminded of an election we had in Natchitoches twenty years ago.
One incumbent politician had so alienated the citizenry that when the votes were tabulated he had lost by something like 90%. It was distressing.
What was really distressing for him on a personal note was that for one particular precinct, he had gotten no votes. Zero. The null set. His opponent had swept the polls. That particular precinct was where his mother voted. Even she had pulled the lever against him. He left town the next week and was never heard from again.
Anyway, I'm watching the polling in New Orleans and right now the lead is flipping back and forth. No one has a mandate yet, and the evening is young. One thing stands out, though.
Ray Nagin can probably count on his family to vote for him. That might count for a hundred votes in a large, extended family. All the rest of those folks who voted for him are absolute, unrepentant idiots.
One incumbent politician had so alienated the citizenry that when the votes were tabulated he had lost by something like 90%. It was distressing.
What was really distressing for him on a personal note was that for one particular precinct, he had gotten no votes. Zero. The null set. His opponent had swept the polls. That particular precinct was where his mother voted. Even she had pulled the lever against him. He left town the next week and was never heard from again.
Anyway, I'm watching the polling in New Orleans and right now the lead is flipping back and forth. No one has a mandate yet, and the evening is young. One thing stands out, though.
Ray Nagin can probably count on his family to vote for him. That might count for a hundred votes in a large, extended family. All the rest of those folks who voted for him are absolute, unrepentant idiots.
Ribs!
I like good ribs. Pork spareribs cooked slowly over an open fire. Milady likes ribs. Likes them a lot. The problem with cooking ribs is that when Milady gets "rib hungry", we tend to get on the motorcycle and find a rib joint. That makes good sense when there are only two of us. Ribs are easy to find in barbeque hungry Louisiana, and we get to explore restaurants and rib joints that we wouldn't find if I were cooking ribs at home.
This weekend, though, we were hosting a birthday party for my grandson, and I decided to cook ribs. I called my resident expert, who runs a rib joint in Natchitoches, LA, and asked him.
"Ribs are easy, Dad". My resident expert is also my youngest son. "Cook them for six hours. I like to give them a good dry rub, then cook them at 350 for four hours, then marinate them in a good sauce for a couple of hours, then put them back on the pit for two hours. Watch 'em close those last two hours, they'll start to fall apart."
So, I did what the boy told me. He didn't give explicit instructions, because he grew up cooking at my elbow and we think a lot alike. I dry-rubbed the ribs with Tony Chachere's and put them in the oven for four hours, then took them out and marinated them with a marinade of half cheap barbeque sauce and half beer. I added a shake or two of Tabasco sauce, some Worchestireshire, and a sprinkle of garlic powder. I made a hell of a mess in the Lady's oven, which I have to clean shortly.
Then, I put them on the pit, keeping them mopped with that same marinade mixture. One rack started falling apart after about an hour. The other two racks maintained their composure until I put on the sausage.
The ribs are stacked on the left, and the pit is covered in sausage. Moving the ribs was difficult as the meat had separated from the bones. I let the sausage brown on the grill then loaded everything into trays. Inside, Milady had cooked beans and a potato salad, with good garlic bread.
These are wet ribs. The marinade sauce is in the container to the left of the pit. I used a common, cheap-bought-at-Harbor-Freight brush to continue to marinate the meat while it cooked. Everytime I turned those ribs, they got a brushing with that sauce. These are wet ribs. It is a cooking philosophy that has stood the test of time.
Other places cook barbeque dry, without the marinate added during the cooking cycle. A pox on those places. This is barbeque like it was intended to be.
Time for me to clean the oven. Next time I'll do the whole thing on the pit. It's a lot easier to clean than that oven.
This weekend, though, we were hosting a birthday party for my grandson, and I decided to cook ribs. I called my resident expert, who runs a rib joint in Natchitoches, LA, and asked him.
"Ribs are easy, Dad". My resident expert is also my youngest son. "Cook them for six hours. I like to give them a good dry rub, then cook them at 350 for four hours, then marinate them in a good sauce for a couple of hours, then put them back on the pit for two hours. Watch 'em close those last two hours, they'll start to fall apart."
So, I did what the boy told me. He didn't give explicit instructions, because he grew up cooking at my elbow and we think a lot alike. I dry-rubbed the ribs with Tony Chachere's and put them in the oven for four hours, then took them out and marinated them with a marinade of half cheap barbeque sauce and half beer. I added a shake or two of Tabasco sauce, some Worchestireshire, and a sprinkle of garlic powder. I made a hell of a mess in the Lady's oven, which I have to clean shortly.
Then, I put them on the pit, keeping them mopped with that same marinade mixture. One rack started falling apart after about an hour. The other two racks maintained their composure until I put on the sausage.
The ribs are stacked on the left, and the pit is covered in sausage. Moving the ribs was difficult as the meat had separated from the bones. I let the sausage brown on the grill then loaded everything into trays. Inside, Milady had cooked beans and a potato salad, with good garlic bread.
These are wet ribs. The marinade sauce is in the container to the left of the pit. I used a common, cheap-bought-at-Harbor-Freight brush to continue to marinate the meat while it cooked. Everytime I turned those ribs, they got a brushing with that sauce. These are wet ribs. It is a cooking philosophy that has stood the test of time.
Other places cook barbeque dry, without the marinate added during the cooking cycle. A pox on those places. This is barbeque like it was intended to be.
Time for me to clean the oven. Next time I'll do the whole thing on the pit. It's a lot easier to clean than that oven.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Nightmare in St. Martin parish
This has got to be one of the nightmares of police work.
Just damn.
Hat tip to Junior.
LAFAYETTE — A St. Martin Parish sheriff’s deputy shot and killed a Cade man late Wednesday while he was beating his 3-year-old daughter, who died hours later.A cop never wants to be involved in a fatal shooting. To shoot a man who won't quit beating a child is certainly justifiable, but damn!
Higgins said deputies arrived about 10:20 p.m. and found Sengdao Kittiraj, 32, beating his daughter.I'm sure they tried to reason with him, then used a dog against him, and he wouldn't quit beating the child. This guy had serious impulse control problems
Higgins said the father failed to respond to repeated commands to stop and had fought off an attack dog that deputies had unleashed.
.“They were trying to use every means possible,” Higgins said.And the baby?
She said one of the deputies chose to fire on Kittiraj in an effort to protect the child, himself and other deputies.
Kittiraj was pronounced dead at the scene.
His daughter, Kaloey Laigh Kittiraj, died early Thursday at Lafayette General Medical Center, Higgins said.Damn, damn, damn. What a nightmare.
The Sheriff’s Office did not identify the deputy involved in the shooting.I'm sure that the deputy will be exonerated. We are certainly justified in using lethal force against a man who is killing a child.
He has been placed on administrative leave pending a State Police investigation of the incident, a routine procedure in shootings involving law-enforcement officers, Higgins said.
The results of the investigation will be handed over to the District Attorney’s Office for a decision on whether the use of deadly force was appropriate.
Just damn.
Hat tip to Junior.
Good job, guys!
Five teenage students in Kansas were arrested after the school district uncovered a plot to shoot fellow students and staff members.
Sounds like a Columbine copycat to me.
Kudos to the school district and local law enforcement. I prefer the slow, unfolding drama of the courtroom to the fast-paced, instant drama of a school shooting. Those little bastards need to go to jail for a long, long time.
Hat tip to Say Uncle.
The boys, ranging in age from 16 to 18, were arrested Thursday, the anniversary of the Columbine massacre, just hours before they planned to shoot fellow students and school employees, authorities said.I'm sure it was all just a joke.
Sounds like a Columbine copycat to me.
The teens planned to wear black trench coats and disable the school's camera system before starting the attack between noon and 1 p.m. Thursday, Norman said. Sheriff's deputies found guns, ammunition, knives and coded messages in the bedroom of one suspect and documents about firearms and references to Armageddon in two suspects' school lockers.I'm sure they are all just troubled, misunderstood youths. Yeah, right.
Apparently, they had been plotting since the beginning of the school year. Norman said school officials began investigating Tuesday after learning a threatening message had been posted on MySpace.com.
Kudos to the school district and local law enforcement. I prefer the slow, unfolding drama of the courtroom to the fast-paced, instant drama of a school shooting. Those little bastards need to go to jail for a long, long time.
Hat tip to Say Uncle.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Sorting bullets
When we cast bullets, we establish a rhythm and we let the metal flow into the mold, whack the sprue, drop the bullet on a soft cloth, then do it all over again.
When the casting is over, we sort bullets. Not every bullet you cast is suitable and each bullet caster sets up his/her own quality control system. Your bullets are as good as you make them, and sorting bullets is an immediate visual quality control check.
I cast a bunch of bullets tonight for my .30-30. The bullets are the well-known Lyman 311041. Lyman has been making molds for this bullet for years. It is a flat point, 170 grain .30 caliber bullet and has a history of good accuracy in the .30-30. These particular bullets came out of custom Lee 6-cavity mold that a group of us ordered through the Cast Boolits forum. Tonight was my first time to try this mold (or any 6-cavity mold) and it makes a pile of bullets quickly. Very quickly.
I pulled four of them out of the pile for illustation purposes.
Lets look at them, left to right.
The far left bullet is frosted and has a small wrinkle on the nose. Frosting is indicative of a mold that is too hot, or alloy that is too hot. This particular bullet came at the end of the production run and my pot tends to let the metal get a little hot at the end of the run. Frosted bullets are okay with me, as I think that the lubricant tends to adhere to them better than a shiny bullet. The wrinkle isn't really a reason to reject the bullet because it is very shallow. This bullet goes in the initial keeper pile.
The second bullet is nearly perfect in every way. It is well filled out with well-defined bands. This bullet is what we are looking for and it, likewise, goes in the keeper pile. A substantial majority of the bullets I cast tonight look just like this.
The third bullet shows signs of a cold mold. It isn't well filled out, the bands are not well defined, and it has a void that appears as a wrinkle on the topmost band. It probably came from the initial few bullets in the production run and it will be rejected. It won't be wasted, though, because I'll melt it down next time and try again.
The fourth, the far right bullet, shows a defect that we call flashing. The mold wasn't closed properly and the lead ran between the mold-halves. When you see flashing, stop immediately and find the culprit. In this case, a small piece of trash had gotten between the mold halves and I brushed it out with the tip of a screwdriver. This bullet will also go in the reject pile and will be melted the next time I heat up the pot.
I normally reject about twenty percent of the bullets I cast during the first, visual sorting. For one reason or another, a bullet might not make the cut, and goes in the reject pile. When I cast bullets for hunting, I sort them by weight and keep bullets that fall into a fairly narrow weight range. If I were sorting for a match, I would sort those bullets that were absolutely perfect, both visually and by weight. The remaining bullets would go into another pile, for plinking or informal practice.
The next step, when the pile of bullets cools, is to sort them again visually in case I missed one that needs to go into the reject pile. Then I lube them, size them and seat gas checks. After that, they are ready for loading.
When the casting is over, we sort bullets. Not every bullet you cast is suitable and each bullet caster sets up his/her own quality control system. Your bullets are as good as you make them, and sorting bullets is an immediate visual quality control check.
I cast a bunch of bullets tonight for my .30-30. The bullets are the well-known Lyman 311041. Lyman has been making molds for this bullet for years. It is a flat point, 170 grain .30 caliber bullet and has a history of good accuracy in the .30-30. These particular bullets came out of custom Lee 6-cavity mold that a group of us ordered through the Cast Boolits forum. Tonight was my first time to try this mold (or any 6-cavity mold) and it makes a pile of bullets quickly. Very quickly.
I pulled four of them out of the pile for illustation purposes.
Lets look at them, left to right.
The far left bullet is frosted and has a small wrinkle on the nose. Frosting is indicative of a mold that is too hot, or alloy that is too hot. This particular bullet came at the end of the production run and my pot tends to let the metal get a little hot at the end of the run. Frosted bullets are okay with me, as I think that the lubricant tends to adhere to them better than a shiny bullet. The wrinkle isn't really a reason to reject the bullet because it is very shallow. This bullet goes in the initial keeper pile.
The second bullet is nearly perfect in every way. It is well filled out with well-defined bands. This bullet is what we are looking for and it, likewise, goes in the keeper pile. A substantial majority of the bullets I cast tonight look just like this.
The third bullet shows signs of a cold mold. It isn't well filled out, the bands are not well defined, and it has a void that appears as a wrinkle on the topmost band. It probably came from the initial few bullets in the production run and it will be rejected. It won't be wasted, though, because I'll melt it down next time and try again.
The fourth, the far right bullet, shows a defect that we call flashing. The mold wasn't closed properly and the lead ran between the mold-halves. When you see flashing, stop immediately and find the culprit. In this case, a small piece of trash had gotten between the mold halves and I brushed it out with the tip of a screwdriver. This bullet will also go in the reject pile and will be melted the next time I heat up the pot.
I normally reject about twenty percent of the bullets I cast during the first, visual sorting. For one reason or another, a bullet might not make the cut, and goes in the reject pile. When I cast bullets for hunting, I sort them by weight and keep bullets that fall into a fairly narrow weight range. If I were sorting for a match, I would sort those bullets that were absolutely perfect, both visually and by weight. The remaining bullets would go into another pile, for plinking or informal practice.
The next step, when the pile of bullets cools, is to sort them again visually in case I missed one that needs to go into the reject pile. Then I lube them, size them and seat gas checks. After that, they are ready for loading.
Cooking in the afternoon
Milady is sleeping today, having worked the vampire shift last night, so I have to be quiet around the house. When she and I both work, that isn't a problem, but I am off this week, so I am trying to be extra-considerate of her sleeping schedule.
I've got the pit cranked up and a couple of chickens are on it.
They've been there about an hour and a half, and they are looking fine. I've got the temperature pegged at 200 degrees, and expect them to sit on the pit till 4:00 p.m. At about 2:30 I'm going to go out, check the fire, and add some sausage to the grill.
This ain't barbeque. I'm smoking a couple of chickens. My Lady works hard and I like to feed her before she goes to work, if that is possible. If she feels like eating, fine. If she doesn't, I'll wrap a chicken in foil and send it with her. I'll add a link of sausage for variety. Some tater salad in a small container, and she won't have to go out to the fast food joints at midnight.
She is on evenings, I am on days. One evening last month I was missing her, so I called her and asked if I could deliver supper. She told me that the shift was debating what do do about food, so bring enough for everyone. She supervises two nurses and four or five aides, so I showed up at the clinic with a stack of large pizzas.
I enjoy doing things like that.
I've got the pit cranked up and a couple of chickens are on it.
They've been there about an hour and a half, and they are looking fine. I've got the temperature pegged at 200 degrees, and expect them to sit on the pit till 4:00 p.m. At about 2:30 I'm going to go out, check the fire, and add some sausage to the grill.
This ain't barbeque. I'm smoking a couple of chickens. My Lady works hard and I like to feed her before she goes to work, if that is possible. If she feels like eating, fine. If she doesn't, I'll wrap a chicken in foil and send it with her. I'll add a link of sausage for variety. Some tater salad in a small container, and she won't have to go out to the fast food joints at midnight.
She is on evenings, I am on days. One evening last month I was missing her, so I called her and asked if I could deliver supper. She told me that the shift was debating what do do about food, so bring enough for everyone. She supervises two nurses and four or five aides, so I showed up at the clinic with a stack of large pizzas.
I enjoy doing things like that.
Liquor Laws
Liquor laws are funny, in that they are different everywhere you go, and the locals in each case believe that they have come up with the perfect balance of regulation and freedom found anywhere.
I live in a dry ward. Yet I can buy low alcohol package liquor (beer and wine)just down the road. Then I cross another invisible line and the law gets dry again, then cross another invisible line, and everything is wide open, with hard liquor, liquor by the drink, dance halls.. All in the space of twelve miles.
A bunch of us were stationed at Fort Dix and went into a place during happy hour. We each got a beer. When we tried to order again, the bartender refused, saying that under the local law, between 5 pm and 7 pm you could only order once. We asked if we could have ordered a case each and he said yes, but we could only order once.
I remember trying to be served in a restaurant, in Kentucky in the late 70's. I was 20 and my wife was 19, and we ordered a cocktail with our meal. They carded us both and when the waiter returned, my wife had her drink, but mine was cola. I asked the waiter to explain, and he said that I was under age. I asked about my wife, and he told us the local laws allowed married women to drink at any age. My wife thought it was hilarious.
My generation fought and marched and complained and raised hell till we could legally drink at age 18, here in Louisiana. The succeeding generations lost that ability, somewhere.
Personally, I'd like to see a honky-tonk on every corner, but the laws just don't allow that around here.
I live in a dry ward. Yet I can buy low alcohol package liquor (beer and wine)just down the road. Then I cross another invisible line and the law gets dry again, then cross another invisible line, and everything is wide open, with hard liquor, liquor by the drink, dance halls.. All in the space of twelve miles.
A bunch of us were stationed at Fort Dix and went into a place during happy hour. We each got a beer. When we tried to order again, the bartender refused, saying that under the local law, between 5 pm and 7 pm you could only order once. We asked if we could have ordered a case each and he said yes, but we could only order once.
I remember trying to be served in a restaurant, in Kentucky in the late 70's. I was 20 and my wife was 19, and we ordered a cocktail with our meal. They carded us both and when the waiter returned, my wife had her drink, but mine was cola. I asked the waiter to explain, and he said that I was under age. I asked about my wife, and he told us the local laws allowed married women to drink at any age. My wife thought it was hilarious.
My generation fought and marched and complained and raised hell till we could legally drink at age 18, here in Louisiana. The succeeding generations lost that ability, somewhere.
Personally, I'd like to see a honky-tonk on every corner, but the laws just don't allow that around here.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Xavier's Challenge
Xavier wants pictures of carry pieces.
Well, here are two of my favorites. The top, a Kimber 1911 is my duty piece that sometimes does journeyman duty in a belt-slide. This pistol has been with me for two years and has never bobbled a single piece of ammo. Dependability is its watchword.
The bottom revolver is a Smith Model 60. I've had this piece for over 20 years. When I was plainclothes it spent a lot of time in a Don Hume pancake holster. Nowadays it rides with me on the motorcycle or in the front seat of the pickup truck. It is nearly always within reach.
One day last year, during a chilly outing, I offered my lady my jacket. Her face bewildered just for a moment, then she put her hand into the right pocket. "If we need this, I'll use it." she said. I just smiled.
Well, here are two of my favorites. The top, a Kimber 1911 is my duty piece that sometimes does journeyman duty in a belt-slide. This pistol has been with me for two years and has never bobbled a single piece of ammo. Dependability is its watchword.
The bottom revolver is a Smith Model 60. I've had this piece for over 20 years. When I was plainclothes it spent a lot of time in a Don Hume pancake holster. Nowadays it rides with me on the motorcycle or in the front seat of the pickup truck. It is nearly always within reach.
One day last year, during a chilly outing, I offered my lady my jacket. Her face bewildered just for a moment, then she put her hand into the right pocket. "If we need this, I'll use it." she said. I just smiled.
Drop box pit
I've always prefered to cook on charcoal or a wood fire if I am cooking outdoors. Within the confines of The Frugal Outdoorsman, we agreed that we would only talk about open wood fires. I still agree that open fires is the legitimate venue of an e-zine like TFO.
However, I live in suburbia and barbeque pits are part and parcel of suburban living. I bought a barbeque pit shortly after we bought the house, and I enjoy cooking on it for friends and family.
I still haven't succumbed to the lure of the propane grill. My barbeque is done on charcoal or wood. When I purchased the pit over a year ago, I didn't have enough money for a drop box, but I bought a pit that had a drop box as an accessory. A drop box is nice when smoking or cooking slowly. The meat isn't sitting directly above the fire, instead it gets a natural convection that moves the heat from the box, across the meat, to the flue.
Today I bought the drop box and mounted it. This pit, by Char-Griller is available at Lowes, either as a unit, or you can purchase the pit one year and the box the next, like I did. Cost, you ask? I've got less than $200.00 tied up in this pit.
The pit, and the drop box is heavy gauge steel. This is not a lightweight barbeque. The grills are cast aluminum, the drop box is made of the same heavy steel as the pit. The instructions tell you that the metal is treated against shipping rust. You can easily see an oily waxy coating on the metal as you assemble the pit. It smells like cosmoline. The instructions also tell us to build a fire in the pit before using it, to burn off the protective coating. So, after adding the firebox, I lit a fire in the box.
The temperature gauge is holding steady at something over 250 degrees F, just like I like to cook. The draft controls are easy to use, easy to adjust, and I will probably learn to regulate the heat at 200 degrees and at 300 degrees when I get more practice using the box.
This weekend, I'm going to put a couple of racks of ribs on the pit, along with sausage and hot dogs for the kids. Yeah, ribs sound just fine.
However, I live in suburbia and barbeque pits are part and parcel of suburban living. I bought a barbeque pit shortly after we bought the house, and I enjoy cooking on it for friends and family.
I still haven't succumbed to the lure of the propane grill. My barbeque is done on charcoal or wood. When I purchased the pit over a year ago, I didn't have enough money for a drop box, but I bought a pit that had a drop box as an accessory. A drop box is nice when smoking or cooking slowly. The meat isn't sitting directly above the fire, instead it gets a natural convection that moves the heat from the box, across the meat, to the flue.
Today I bought the drop box and mounted it. This pit, by Char-Griller is available at Lowes, either as a unit, or you can purchase the pit one year and the box the next, like I did. Cost, you ask? I've got less than $200.00 tied up in this pit.
The pit, and the drop box is heavy gauge steel. This is not a lightweight barbeque. The grills are cast aluminum, the drop box is made of the same heavy steel as the pit. The instructions tell you that the metal is treated against shipping rust. You can easily see an oily waxy coating on the metal as you assemble the pit. It smells like cosmoline. The instructions also tell us to build a fire in the pit before using it, to burn off the protective coating. So, after adding the firebox, I lit a fire in the box.
The temperature gauge is holding steady at something over 250 degrees F, just like I like to cook. The draft controls are easy to use, easy to adjust, and I will probably learn to regulate the heat at 200 degrees and at 300 degrees when I get more practice using the box.
This weekend, I'm going to put a couple of racks of ribs on the pit, along with sausage and hot dogs for the kids. Yeah, ribs sound just fine.
Wednesday noon
Well, it's a little past noon, so who's counting?
It's a slow news day, so I thought I'd tell you a story about a young cop, a year out of the academy, who stoppped a good looking gal on a country road.
The rookie got out of his cruiser and approached the vehicle. He had clocked the speeder at 65 in a 50, and when he got to the side of the vehicle, she rolled her window down. It was a hot, Louisiana summer day, the sun was relentless and the heat mirage danced off the tarmac. The lady, only a year or so older than the officer, was wearing Daisy Duke shorts and a halter top. The young officer looked at the license, registration, and proof of insurance. He called in to run the drivers license and learned that she had only recently gotten her license out of suspension. Her daddy was a prominent attorney in the little town, and the officer knew that the ticket would certainly be fixed. Probably before the sun set.
He sat in his cruiser, air conditioning set on "gut", and wrote the ticket, then walked back to the waiting woman. He handed her license and paperwork back, then told her where she could pay the ticket.
"But Officer," she smiled sweetly, "I didn't think that y'all wrote tickets to good looking women."
"That's right, ma'am. We don't." he smiled warmly under his sunglasses. "If you'll sign it on the bottom you can be on your way."
It's a slow news day, so I thought I'd tell you a story about a young cop, a year out of the academy, who stoppped a good looking gal on a country road.
The rookie got out of his cruiser and approached the vehicle. He had clocked the speeder at 65 in a 50, and when he got to the side of the vehicle, she rolled her window down. It was a hot, Louisiana summer day, the sun was relentless and the heat mirage danced off the tarmac. The lady, only a year or so older than the officer, was wearing Daisy Duke shorts and a halter top. The young officer looked at the license, registration, and proof of insurance. He called in to run the drivers license and learned that she had only recently gotten her license out of suspension. Her daddy was a prominent attorney in the little town, and the officer knew that the ticket would certainly be fixed. Probably before the sun set.
He sat in his cruiser, air conditioning set on "gut", and wrote the ticket, then walked back to the waiting woman. He handed her license and paperwork back, then told her where she could pay the ticket.
"But Officer," she smiled sweetly, "I didn't think that y'all wrote tickets to good looking women."
"That's right, ma'am. We don't." he smiled warmly under his sunglasses. "If you'll sign it on the bottom you can be on your way."
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Opthamology
I hooe I spelled that right. I can't see but about half the screen. I went to my opthamalogist this morning for an annual checkup. She gave me hell for not taking my vitamins, then in a moment of revenge, she dilated my eyes.
She's a good doc, my eye doctor. Yet she buys that dilation crap by the gallon.
I've been wearing glasses since grade school. I sucessfully fought the urge for contact lenses. Then Milady had Lasik surgery and she suddenly shed her lenses and ever since, I've been thinking about it. So, I talked to the doc about it and she put me into a contact lens. One lens in my right eye. That will correct my eye for distance viewing and my left eye will be used for close-in viewing.
THen, she handed me off to a tech, who I suspect was a good looking gal, but my eyes are dilated, so I'm not sure, who taught me to put in a contact and take out a contact. Then they sent me home. I wandered out into the brilliant Louisiana sunlight and promptly slammed my eyss shut, cause they are dilated.
I went back inside the doc store and got a pair of the giveaway wraparound eye protectors. Then walked back out to the bike. Yeah, the bike. Those damned eye protectors lasted till I got out to the highway, then blew away in a gust of wind. I went stone-totally-blind on a busy four-lane. On a motorcycle.
So there I sit, on the side of the road, eyes slammed shut, and I manage to grope my way to a Dollar Store and buy a pair of Foster Grants. I made it home without any particular problem, except that my eyes are dilated and I can't see shit.
It'll get better in a couple of hours and I can get on with my day.
She's a good doc, my eye doctor. Yet she buys that dilation crap by the gallon.
I've been wearing glasses since grade school. I sucessfully fought the urge for contact lenses. Then Milady had Lasik surgery and she suddenly shed her lenses and ever since, I've been thinking about it. So, I talked to the doc about it and she put me into a contact lens. One lens in my right eye. That will correct my eye for distance viewing and my left eye will be used for close-in viewing.
THen, she handed me off to a tech, who I suspect was a good looking gal, but my eyes are dilated, so I'm not sure, who taught me to put in a contact and take out a contact. Then they sent me home. I wandered out into the brilliant Louisiana sunlight and promptly slammed my eyss shut, cause they are dilated.
I went back inside the doc store and got a pair of the giveaway wraparound eye protectors. Then walked back out to the bike. Yeah, the bike. Those damned eye protectors lasted till I got out to the highway, then blew away in a gust of wind. I went stone-totally-blind on a busy four-lane. On a motorcycle.
So there I sit, on the side of the road, eyes slammed shut, and I manage to grope my way to a Dollar Store and buy a pair of Foster Grants. I made it home without any particular problem, except that my eyes are dilated and I can't see shit.
It'll get better in a couple of hours and I can get on with my day.
Sex and Blogger
I check my referral logs fairly frequently. It gives me a good idea who is sending traffic to this piddly little blog. After my Sex-offender post yesterday I noticed that I was getting referrals from Blogger Search from places like Dubai, Sudan, Singapore and Poland.
Folks were searching Blogger for the word sex. They came to me because I had used the word. My sitemeter is open, and anyone who can click on the Sitemeter icon on the bottom of the right-hand column can check my stats. My traffic here isn't burning up the world. I sometimes laughingly refer to my dozen consistent readers, and there is a lot of truth to that.
There must be some blogs in Blogspot that specialize in Blogging about sex. I've never bothered to check.
Anyway, welcome all you readers who come to me via Blogger Search. Hope you're not too disappointed. I've used the word sex five times in this post, and there is no telling how it will affect the stats.
Folks were searching Blogger for the word sex. They came to me because I had used the word. My sitemeter is open, and anyone who can click on the Sitemeter icon on the bottom of the right-hand column can check my stats. My traffic here isn't burning up the world. I sometimes laughingly refer to my dozen consistent readers, and there is a lot of truth to that.
There must be some blogs in Blogspot that specialize in Blogging about sex. I've never bothered to check.
Anyway, welcome all you readers who come to me via Blogger Search. Hope you're not too disappointed. I've used the word sex five times in this post, and there is no telling how it will affect the stats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)