The Roses

I am reminded that this weekend is the Run for the Roses, the Kentucky Derby, the biggest show in horse racing.  If you've never been in Kentucky for a Derby, you've missed some of life's greatest excitement.  Big parties, parades, dances, all leading up to the greatest two minutes of horse racing.

You can see the Leaderboard here.  I've never heard of any of these horses, but I'm sure that I'll be paying attention on Saturday afternoon.  We haven't had a Triple Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978, but I watched him, and Seattle Slew in '77 when I was stationed at Fort Knox.

Sunday Song

An old one, from Shenandoah in 1989.



Y'all get out and enjoy this Sunday.  Make time to pray, and take time to play.

My Brood

Last night at the pool party, my daughter wanted a photo of her brothers and I.

That's my offspring.  PawPaw is the midget in the back.  The big galoot on the left is a wizard with sheet metal and industrial plumbing.  The tall kid is an ace mechanic and you don't want him shooting at you unless you're over 800 yards away.  Even then you're in danger, but not necessarily fatal.  The little girl is a pharmacy tech and she makes the best enchiladas known to modern man.  The guy on the right is a cop, and you don't want him shooting at you with a handgun.  Or his precision rifle.

That's my youg'uns.

Sunday Morning Dawg

The last weekend of April, and it's a wonderful time.  Partly cloudy, cool in the morning, warm in the afternoon, and it's a perfect time to hang out on the deck.

Go enjoy this Sunday.  It's beautiful weather out there.

Grilling

Our immediate family started a tradition a year or so ago.  Every two weeks, we meet at one or another's house on a rotating basis.  We cook, eat, tell lies, laugh and generally bond as a family.  Another tradition is that on the last Saturday of April, we open the swimming pool.  Whether it is too cool to swim or not is not PawPaw's concern.  The pool is open and the actual time spent in the pool is on the parents.

Due to a happy confluence of these two events, I'll be hosting the bi-weekly gathering at my house today.  There are two birthdays being celebrated, both of them grandsons.  Milady always lets the birthday critter choose the menu.  One wanted spaghetti and meatballs, the other wanted hamburgers, so we're cooking both this evening.

PawPaw went out to look at the charcoal grill and found that winter has eaten a hole in the bottom of it.  That grill has been in the backyard for eight years and I know how to cook on it, so I went down to the box store and found another just like it.

That's the Char-Griller Outlaw model, and I like the way that grill cooks.  I don't know yet if I'll put a drop-box on it, but they're easily available.  As much as I like a drop-box, I really don't use one that often.  I've got some ideas to build a smoke-box that don't require the drop-box.  We'll see how those ideas play out.

Tamerlan's Brother

So, I'm sitting here thinking about whether Boston should give Tamerlan a Mahomet burial, or just run him through the Muffin Monster, then I start thinking about Tamerlan's brother.  You know, Dschuz or whatever they call him.  Yeah, the one that bled all over that guy's boat before the police ruined the boat?  Yeah, that guy.  You know that the reason that Tamerlan is dead is because Dschuz ran over him?  Yeah, inconvenient but true.  Younger brother kills older brother by running him over.  Sucks to be Tamerlan.

Still, the younger brother dumped the stolen ride, and hid on this poor fellows boat, and the police are searching everywhere, going house-to-house, violating civil rights by the bushel-basket.  Until the good citizen finds him in the boat, calls the police, and the cops come over and shoot holes in the boat.  Yeah, the police covered themselves with glory that day.  As did the citizens of Boston, who cowered in place while a teenager terrorized their town.  That's another story.

What I'm wondering; doesn't anyone in Massachusetts have a bloodhound?  When Dschuz (or whatever his name is) left the stolen vehicle, bleeding, and started running, a decent bloodhound would have sorted that trail out in about 15 minutes.  Unless you can't use dogs on Mohammedans for some damned reason.

The Boston PD needs to invest in a couple of good bloodhounds. 

Who Cares?

The headline at The Daily Beast:

Will Tamerlan Tsarnaev Get a Muslim Burial?

And my first reaction, Who Cares? I certainly don't, but I thought that Mahomets had to be buried before the sun goes down?  We gave that murderous asshole bin Laden a Mohammedan burial, at sea, but evidently, one mosque has declined to bury the cop-killing, child-killing Tamerlan.

So, it was surprising when NBC reported that one of Tamerlan Tsarnaev’s aunts said the Boston Marathon bombing suspect had been denied a traditional burial by a local mosque. One of Tamerlan’s uncles requested the rite for his nephew, only to be refused, she said.

Personally, I think they should trot his body down to the local wastewater treatment plant and stuff it in a drum so that all of Boston that's so inclined can come out and piss on him.  Then, after Boston tires of that, run him through the Muffin Monster and be done with him.  The less said the better. His mortal remains just go away, to be forgotten, except as an example of evil.

Truly?  Who cares?  Tell the family to come get him, and if they don't, bury him in Potter's Field in an unmarked grave.

Shower Fixed

I went to one plumbing supply store and they couldn't help me.  They don't distribute for Price-Pfister, but they sent me down the road to a guy who does.  "Okay", thinks I, "now I know it's a Price Pfister"

I walked to the counter, showed the guy my pictures.  "Oh, yeah," he says, "I recognize that mixer.  Hang on."  He walks to the back of the store, snatches one out of the bin, and brings it back.  "Easy-peasy" he says, "any fool could replace that cartridge."

So, we talked for a few minutes about the particular fool who was standing in front of him, and the pitfalls I might expect, which were few.  "Is there anything else I should know about this cartridge before I snatch that other one out of the wall?"

"Turn the water off, " he says, "that's the biggest mistake people make, trying to replace the cartridge before they turn the water off.  Makes a helluva mess"

"Good advise," says I.  I turned and paid the lady at the register, then came home.  Turned the water off at the meter.  Fifteen minutes later I was done.  No cussin'.  I've got the temps regulated.  (Who knew you could regulate the amount of hot water that comes out of a shower, except the old-fashioned way?)  I'll have to tell Milady to be careful, don't scald herself the first time she gives it a go.

For the record (and it's amazing how much I use this blog to remember stuff), it's a Price-Pfister mixer valve, #P974-042.  It cost me about $26.00 and I was glad to pay it.

Glowball Warmening

Fifty degrees out there this morning, I needed a jacket on my first-cup-of-coffee stroll.  Came in and turned the heat on in the house so that Milady wouldn't take a chill when she awoke.

This is the last week of April, and I guess we're having a pre-Easter cold snap.  Except that Easter was several weeks ago.  I'm not complaining, you understand, just a mite confused.  Normally in Louisiana this time of year, we're well past the morning jacket phase of spring.  I've actually put the jacket away three times already this year, thinking that cool weather was over.  When we get to the 80-by-8:00, full summer will be upon us, and I'll be pining for cool weather.

The official opening of the pool is this weekend.  Grandson Quinton's birthday marks the official opening, where the kids have the option of putting on a bathing suit and getting in the water.  It's liable to be a bit chilly for that, although PawPaw won't be the one to keep them from getting in the pool.

When I walked outside in the pre-dawn chill, the first thought that came to my mind was that it is squirrel hunting weather, and that's not for another five months.  Yeah, I'm already thinking about hunting season.  Lots of work to do before November.

When It Rains

When it rains, it pours.  After the pool debacles of earlier this year, and me ripping the water meter loose on Monday, I get up this morning to find that the shower valve in the master bath has gone the way of cheap plumbing fixtures.  I can't even identify the damned thing, so I don't know what I'm looking for.  I took good pictures and I'll head to Lowe's a bit later this afternoon to try and educate myself.

Thankfully, the shower in the guest bath still works.  When I discover which valve I need for the master bath, I'll keep the packaging so that when the cartridge on the guest bathroom dies, I'll know what to look for.  I'm sure that the contractor who built this house thirteen years ago put in the same shower valves.  The one in the master is marked "Lowes" and that's where I'll start my search.

Just Dammit.

**Update**  Well, that was a wasted trip.  I went to Lowe's and tried to get some help.  Showed the guy in the plumbing department the photos of the shower valve, and he asked "What am I looking at, a sparkplug?"

Okay, sparky, it's easy to see that you've never done any plumbing.  I guess I'll go to a real plumbing-supply house tomorrow after work.

At the School-House

This afternoon, just before the buses ran, one of the kids kicked a soccer ball and knocked a hose-bib off a fitting on the practice field.  After my experience with the water meter yesterday, I didn't even go out to look at the geyser.  The assistant principal asked me what I thought about it.

"Y'all have fun with that."

The plumbers got there just before I left.  It must be hell being a plumber this time of year.

Mowing the Grass

Mowing the grass went well today, in my terribly overgrown front yard.  This was the first cutting of the season.

Until I forgot where the water meter was located and yanked it out of the ground with the blades of the riding lawn mower.  It's a good thing I had already mowed the ditches, because they filled with water pretty quickly.

The guy from the Buckeye Water District said that lawnmowers are his worst enemy.  My son, who works for the Pollock Water System was there to help also.  Thanks, son.

It's hell being a redneck, sometimes.

Miranda

An interesting synopsis of the Miranda ruling, from Orin Kerr. 

1) A lot of people assume that the police are required to read a suspect his Miranda rights upon arrest. That is, they assume that one of a person’s rights is the right to be read their rights. It often happens that way on Law & Order, but that’s not what the law actually requires. The police aren’t required to follow Miranda. Miranda is a set of rules the government can chose to follow if they want to admit a person’s statements in a criminal case in court, not a set of rules they have to follow in every case.

I know that when a suspect on TV is arrested, the first thing we hear the detective intone is:  "You have the right to remain silent".  I've done that on occasion, especially when  citizens are present.  I really don't need to read a suspect his rights unless I intend to ask him questions, ergo, I'm not going to violate his right to remain silent if I already have sufficient cause to arrest him for an offense.  In many cases I might not ask a suspect any questions.  Granted, it's easier to get a statement into evidence if you have a Miranda warning on file, but if I'm not interested in his statement, there's no real reason to get a Miranda waiver.

Don't believe everything you see on television.

Coin Toss

From Rodger

Heh!  Indeed.

New Computer

My laptop crashed a couple of months ago, and because I don't need any real high-strength computer, I've been using Milady's netbook to access the interwebs and do some blogging.  Just last week, Milady's brother told us that his company was buying new laptops, and he had a chance to buy a few of them.  The company would pay a tech guy to wipe the computer and the company would sell them to employees at a very nice cost. 

I told him "Yeah!", so I picked it up yesterday at the fish fry.  It's a Dell Inspiron, and when they said they wiped it, they weren't kidding.  Except for the hour at church today I've spent all day cussing and configuring.  I've finally got the wireless working and now I'm finding other bugs.  I've downloaded a few programs I like and I  thought that I'd see if I can post on this thing.  I guess we'll know in a few minutes.

It runs Windows XP, has an 80 gig hard drive, and runs an Intel Centrino duo processor.  Whatever that means.  Now that I'm studying the machine, I don't see an SD card reader on it anywhere.

Sunday Morning Dawg

This dog loves sniffing tires, as do most dogs.  Something about the rubber compound in the tire, the various smells that cling to the tire (I shudder to think where that tire has been), all conspire to make a scent-buffet that the dog finds irresistible.

It's all part and parcel of being a dawg, I guess.

Gun Oils

In response to my earlier post on ATF, Rivrdog says in comments:

I had a Department Armorer warn me about using anything but straight gun oil on guns kept loaded (service firearms), and he put it like this:

I understand the concern about penetrating oils and primers.  Really, I do.  However, over the last several years I've become convinced that the oils we gunnies like to call "straight gun oils" simply don't exist.  It simply doesn't make sense to formulate oils for the tiny, miniscule market that is the gun oil market.  From my very limited research, what we buy are common industrial lubricants, repackaged into small one-ounce bottles and sold to us at a premium.  A quick look at the label on my gun oil and a walk through an automotive supply store convinced me that "straight gun oil" is simply packaged for our convenience.  Even Break-Free CLP is easily purchased in one-gallon jugs, and I've seen it in the past in five-gallon cans.

I don't believe that the guys at Exxon-Mobil, or BP, or Phillips, even know that we exist.  If one of their research guys came to them and said "Hey, we need to refine some gun oil!", they'd look at him like he was crazy, unless he could convince them that they could sell it by the tanker load.  No, what we buy as "gun oil" is simply repackaged bulk lubricant, with extra hype and cool labeling.

Do I use "straight gun oil"?  Yeah, I've got a few tiny bottles on the shelf because they're convenient.  I also use 3-in-1 oil because it's convenient.  I also use white lithium grease.  The 2-ox tube I bought five years ago is just about gone and the next time I'm in Auto-Zone, it's time to pick up another tube.

I get it about primers and penetrating oil, but I don't believe that "straight gun oil" exists.  It's a figment of the marketers imagination.  And a highly profitable figment for those willing to package it.  They can repackage industrial lubricant in one ounce bottles and sell it to us for over $100.00 per gallon.  It's a heck of a deal for them.

Penetrating Oil

If you've ever had to get a rusty nut off of a rusty machine screw, you know how aggravating it can be to get it to break loose.  So, imagine my surprise when I found this post over at Curmudgeonly and Skeptical

.
Imagine that.  A 50/50 mix of ATF and Acetone mix works better than WD40.

I've been using ATF as a gun oil for a while, but I never thought about using it to loosen rusted bolts.  Is there anything ATF won't do?

Boston Manhunt

They're still looking for the remaining sonofabitch who bombed the Boston Marathon.  Seven IED's recovered and the manhunt has practically shut down Boston.  Some estimate that the shutdown will cost between $250-300 million per day.  Allahpundit has continuing coverage of the events at HotAir.

The capture of this guy is hugely iimportant.  I get that.  What I don't get is shutting down an entire city to get him.  This is exactly what the terrorists want, to shut down American cities.  By stopping bus lines, shutting down commuter lines,and telling people to stay home, indoors, is just exactly what the terrorists want.  Boston has played into the terrorists hands.  Eugene Kontorovich talks about the civil liberty aspects at Volokh.com.  For those of you unfamiliar with the site, it's a group blog of  a group of very high-level attorneys.  I admit that Volokh and company lose me in their esoteric analysis sometimes, but I find the blog very interesting, and I find Mr. Kontorovich's analysis compelling. (Basically, because he agrees with me.)

Still, I've been a cop for a long time.  I shut down a military installation, once, over a threat, but I've never shut down a whole city.  When we shut down Fort Polk, during Desert Storm, the hue and cry was phenomenal.  I can't imagine the hue and cry over shutting down Boston.  Am I concerned about the civil rights of the sonofabitch with a bomb?  Only as much as is necessary to prosecute or kill him.  I'll do what's proper and no more.  I am concerned about the civil rights of large American cities, and the example we're setting when some other sonofabitch decides to bomb something.

Toomey-Manchin dies. Obama butt-hurt.

While working unGodly hours yesterday and Tuesday, I notice that Toomey-Manchin went down in ignominious defeat.  All amendments failed to get to the floor for debate.  I started digging through other links and saw that my Dem senator, "Katrina" Mary Landrieu voted YEA on the matter.  Landrieu hails from the New Orleans area, a solid Democrat stronghold in what is otherwise a solid red state, but she is my Senator, so I took a minute to dash off a quick email to her.  The text is below.

Dear Mary
I see that you recently voted YEA on Toomey Manchin.  Have you lost your damned mind?  You're standing for re-election later this year and already have a strong challenger.

She'll never see the email, and some staffer will delete it as soon as possible.  However, the Senate declined to even debate the issue, and the President's signature effort on gun control went down in resounding defeat. Senator Dianne Feinstein's assault weapon amendment lost 40-60.

Senator Murphy of Connecticut thinks we're all a bunch of poo-poo heads for not marching lockstep against the Constitution, and the President is looking all butt-hurt that we don't immediately do everything he says we should do.  Well, screw him.  I don't have time to worry about his butt-hurt.  Now, I understand, he'll go back to doing what he does best.  I'm not sure if that's Executive Orders, playing golf, or taking wildly expensive vacations on my dime.

This is a great day, and I think I'm going to have a drink to celebrate.