Shooting Fruit

We've been listening to the grandkids, and we were concerned that they might not understand the power and potential of a firearm.

Let me explain.  Our family likes guns.  We like them a lot, and we shoot them every chance we get.  Paper targets or steel, or for that matter, clay targets with the shotgun, but that doesn't properly, visually, energetically demonstrate the power available with a squeeze of the trigger. The grandkids in question are adolescent, already safe with firearms, but we became concerned that they might not be fully familiar with the actual result of putting a bullet into something soft and squishy.  Hence, a demonstration was in order.  We accomplished that this afternoon.

Yesterday I made a quick trip to the grocers and bought a cantaloupe and a couple of spaghetti squash, each just a little smaller than the human head.  Today, we loaded the adolescents in the pickup and went to our private range.  We explained what we were going to do, then set the cantaloupe on a stump about five yards away.  I shot it with a common .45 ACP 230 grain hollowpoint.at a range of about five feet.  We were immediately all hit with the splash from the cantaloupe exploding.  The top half simply exploded because I hit it a bit high.  Then I shot a spaghetti squash at the same range.  We autopsied the groceries, explaining the similarity between them and the human anatomy.

When I looked at the boys, their mouths were open in stunned shock.  That's good.

They all like shooting my rifles.  And, they're perfectly capable of hitting what they see.  So, we walked some groceries out to about 50 yards, then got out the rifle.  A common, standard .308. The Ugly rifle. I let the boys lay down on the ground and take shots at the produce.  A cantaloupe explodes nicely, and the spaghetti squash is likewise disturbed when a rifle bullet plows  through them.

They each hit their target and I'm proud of them for that.  Laying on their bellies like real marksmen, they put the bullets where the bullets should have been put, then they looked agape at the results.

The ride back to the casa was fairly quiet.  "What did you learn?" I asked.

"Those things are dangerous."

That's just exactly what I was trying to portray.  Those things are dangerous.  Used properly, used safely, they are a source of great joy and pleasure.  One moment of carelessness and you'll have a moment that you regret forever.  I hope the lesson stays with them, and they learn a new respect for the power they command.

Sunday Song

Another one from Steve Wariner.



I"ve got to get ready for Sunday Lunch.  When I was a boy we always went to the grandparents house for Sunday Lunch.  It's quite the family tradition.  The kids and grandkids will start turning up here in another hour

Sunday Morning Dawg

The dog and the cat playing on the back porch settee.

The were wrasslin' around when I took this snap, one trying to get the upper hand on the other.  It looks like they're fast friends now.  The dog is learning to respect the claws on the cat's hind feet.

Saturday Song

Driving back from the deer stand, listen to old music on the radio, this one from Steve Wariner came up.



It's as true now as it was when he released it in 1987.

Friday I Got Nothing

It was quiet around the school-house this morning, and most of the afternoon.  Everyone was ready for a long weekend and the bureaucrats weren't stirring up anything.  I left promptly at 3:00, came home and hooked up the trailer for hunting tomorrow morning.

I haven't even checked the Friday afternoon news dump.  I just don't care.  I'm having a Friday-afternoon cocktail, then Milady and I are heading for the auction.  Tomorrow I'll be in the deer stand at daylight, and yes, I have a spare tire on the trailer.

Tomorrow evening, LSU plays Alabama at Tuscalloosa.  I won't be there, but I have front-row seats at BIL's house, where he's cooking ribs.

That Was Quick

Well, that was certainly quick.  On Tuesday, November 5th I was surfing around and learned that Dick Metcalf, a writer for Guns and Ammo magazine and a long time gun-rag writer had penned an opinion piece entitled Let's Talk Limits: Do certain firearms regulation really constitute infringement? (.pdf warning) for inclusion in the December edition.

Notably, it caused a stir and the base became immediately and horribly enraged.

This morning, November 7th, we learn that Metcalf has been released, and his editor is leaving the magazine.  Forty-eight hours after I learned of the article, the two people responsible for it are gone.  Just gone.  That's quick.  Lessons learned?  Some will say that an immediate firing is rather harsh, and that Metcalf like everyone else has a right to free speech.  That's right, and he still has a right to speak freely.  No one has done anything to diminish that right.  Dick Metcalf can get a website like this one and post opinion after opinion, freely, without fear of suppression.

However, when you're paid good money to keep subscribers happy and sell magazines, you don't have a right to piss them off AND keep your job.  Evidently the writer and the editor wanted to have a reasonable discussion of firearms rights and regulation.  In doing so, they heartily offended the very subscribers and advertisers who pay their salaries.  That's not a good idea.

Really, folks, it's not a good idea to pee on the electric fence.

That Chicken

Why did the Libertarian Chicken cross the road?

Hat tip to My Muse

The Sodbuster

Of all the pocketknives I've carried in my life, there is one that I always gravitate toward.  The Case Sodbuster.  Case still makes these things, in several varieties and two sizes; the full size and the Jr.  As it turns out, I've got a Jr. in my pocket right now.

It's a simple knife, as pocketknives go.  One blade, a nice drop point blade suitable for most cutting tasks.  The blade is good steel, easily sharpened, and seems to maintain a relationship between being easy to sharpen yet holds an edge well.  Some blades are easy to sharpen yet the steel doesn't hold the edge, some knives hold an edge really well, but the knives are notoriously hard to sharpen.  The Sodbuster seems to find the middle ground.

The handle material is smooth, well rounded, so that if fits in a pocket easily.  This isn't a fighting knife, or a tacticool wonder, it's a using knife, a farmer's knife, a knife to keep in your pocket for routine cutting chores.  For cleaning game animals, skinning squirrels, or gutting fish, the blade design is almost perfect.  It makes short work of binder's twine and is suitable for opening packages.

I've had a dozen of these things over the years, and the reason for having that many is that for many years I ran a small hobby farm, the place where I raised my kids.  I kept a Sodbuster in my pocket and I was always losing them.  Sometimes they'd get dropped in a pond, other times they'd fall into a muddy paddock and the cattle would stomp them into the ground.  I never worn one out, but I'd lose them.

Luckily they are easily replaced and relatively inexpensive. I see that you can buy them from a variety of sources for about $30.00, and they've been made long enough that they're collectible.  The original handle colors were black and yellow.  I prefer the black, but I see that they now also come in green and blue.

If you're looking for a good, serviceable pocketknife for home or farm, it's hard to beat the Sodbuster.  It has PawPaw's seal of approval.

Don't Want a Job

According to the Wall Street Journal, 34.3 percent of the people not in the labor force, don't want a job.

Moreover, Messrs. Barnichon and Figura found, the decline in people who want a job wasn’t driven by people entering the labor force. It was driven by people switching from wanting a job to not wanting one. Long before the recession, in other words, Americans were drifting away from the labor force.

So, it seems that the number of people not in the labor force, who also don't want a job is up to about 34%, according to the number crunchers at the Journal, and as reported at Hot Air.

I don't have a problem with people not wanting a job.  What I have a problem with is people not willing to work, but wanting to eat on my dime.  If you don't want a job, fine, but don't sign up for food stamps, or free health care, or housing assistance, or anything.  No SNAP, no free lunches, nor Medicaid, nor anything.  I believe in the land of the free, but if you don't want to participate, then you should be free to starve to death.

I believe in the freedom to work or not work, but I also believe in the freedom to starve to death.  It's one thing to be disabled, or to be in a situation where you simply decide you don't want to work?  Fine, but don't burden me with paying it.

Tranpoline

We've had a trampoline in our side yard for about five years, the grandkids love it.  Recently, though, we had to change insurance carriers for our homeowner's insurance because Farmer's Insurance (hack, spit) decided that they didn't want to do business in the state of Louisiana.  So, I called the agent and we went with another carrier.  Saved a few bucks, too.

The guy came out last week and did an inspection, took pictures, made sure that there is actually a house standing here, then he left.  The insurance agent called this week.  "Do you have a trampoline?"

"Well, yeah", I replied.  "We've had one for several years"

"Oh, no," the agent said.  "Insurance companies hate trampolines.  Insurance companies won't insure anyone who has a trampoline.  Too much risk, too much liability."  He continued.  "Lots of folks buy those things, put them in their yards and never hear from their insurance company, as long as no one from the company comes out for an inspection.  As soon as they see the trampoline, they cancel the policy."

"Really?"  says I.

"Really" says he.  "I represent more than a couple insurance companies and none of them allow trampolines.  That trampoline has got to go.  Or I can't get insurance for you."

Evidently, trampolines are verboten on a homeowner's policy.  Take one guess what I disassembled as soon as I got home.  I'll go by the agent's tomorrow and sign a letter that the trampoline has vanished.

Old Pictures

Momma brought me some old pictures this morning.  Most of them were baby pictures and family memorabilia, but this one tweaked my memory strings.

That's my Dad's Ford Fairlane, probably a '58, but I have to admit I don't particularly remember.  I do remember that it was a two-tone brown over tan and had a big engine.  And it would run like a scalded ape.  I also remember that it was wrecked in my grandmother's front yard when the lady who lived across the street mistook her gas pedal for her brake pedal and slammed it sitting in my grandad's driveway.

Dad was sick, and Momma was worried about the weeks-worth of groceries in the crushed trunk, so my Grandad opened the trunk with a crow bar before the wrecker hauled it off.

Dad was heartbroken for weeks, especially after he learned that the car was totalled.

Sunday Song

From Allan Jackson.



We'll be headed to church in another half-hour.  Y'all have a great Sunday.

Sunday Morning Dawg

The dog got a trim this week, and he looks a heck of a lot better.

He's driving the cat crazy.  As it turns out, he had so much hair he could barely see.  Now, he can see plainly and he's able to chase the cat with a whole lot more accuracy.  That's tough on the cat, but she'll learn to adapt.

No Joy

What an adventure.  Grandson Zachary and I rolled out of the driveway at 5:00 a.m. this morning, heading for the deer woods.  We stopped at a local convenience store about halfway to the stand for a biscuit (bacon for him, sausage and egg for me), and got on the road.  Within 100 yards I knew that something was wrong, so I got out of the truck and found that our trailer was riding on a flat tire.  Well hell!  I turned around, got back to the store and dollied the trailer.

Of course, I didn't have a spare tire.  A son, (who will remain nameless) had borrowed that trailer and the spare hadn't made it back.  So, Zach and I headed to Wally-World, where we bought two tires on rims, and turned around to get the trailer and the Mule.  Installed the tire, tried it again.  As we came around the final curve in the road, I saw the sun peeking above the pine trees.  We got to the stand about ten minutes after sunrise and settled in.

Of course, PawPaw had laid on a thermos of coffee, a thermos of hot cocoa, some trail mix and some jerky.  No joy on the deer movements.  At about 10:00, Zach and I came out of the woods and headed for the deer camp with our part of the noon meal and a large 2X12 to repair a picnic table.  Fixed the table, ate lunch, and headed toward mother-in-law's house about five miles from the camp.  Visited with family, drank a beer, visited some more, then headed home.

PawPaw's  tired and needs a shower.  With clean blue-jeans and my slippers I'm sure I'll feel a lot better.

Getting It Right

David Frum makes his point, in an article by the same name as this post, over at the The Daily Beast about Republican obstructionism to the Affordable Care Act.

But of course, if you have the opportunity to prevent or mitigate a debacle—and you fail to use that opportunity—then, yes you do bear some of the blame. Maybe not the moral blame, but the real world practical political blame. Political action is judged by its consequences. The consequences of Republican radicalism since 2009 have been almost uniformly negative—for the country as a whole and for the interests and principles the radicals claim to champion. That’s the point I’ve been trying to pound into the heads of massive-resistance conservatives this past half-decade. Apparently, I must keep pounding.

His argument, apparently, is that the Affordable Care Act is here to stay and the Republicans should do what they can to make it better.  Respectfully, I disagree.

I've been a military officer, and I've had to make bad ideas less bad.  Just as Shaara details in his exploration of Buford in Killer Angels;

 The vision was brutally clear: he had to wonder at the clarity of it. Few things in a soldier’s life were so clear as this, so black-line etched that he could actually see the blue troops for one long bloody moment, going up the long slope to the stony top as if it were already done and a memory already, an odd, set, stony quality to it, as if tomorrow had occurred and there was nothing you could do about it, the way you sometimes feel before a foolish attack, knowing it will fail but you cannot stop it or even run away but must even take part and help it fail.

Fortunately, Republicans aren't always professional soldiers, but sometimes we see something so brutally painful, so God-awful wrong and destructive that we must try to obstruct it.  Frum argues that the politically best motive would be to try to mitigate the damage.  Perhaps he's right.  But in politics you have to stand on a set of principles and this act goes against most of the principles that I've come to believe will sustain the Republic.

No, sometimes it is enough to not participate in a particular disaster.  But, just as Buford fought to hold the high ground to give his army a chance to succeed, we must also fight from the high ground.  But, unlike the duty-bound soldier, we have no duty to take part and help it fail.  We have even less of a duty to mitigate a debacle when against the majority, we stand athwart the tide and yell "stop".

The Democrats own this mess, lock, stock, and barrel.  It's up to them to work it, but I believe that it's doomed to fail.  Nothing that I've seen so far convinces me otherwise.

More Deer Cam

We're having plenty of fun looking at the game camera and this little buck shows a lot of promise.

That's a nice, shootable 6 point, probably two or three years old.  And, he's coming out right at the end of the legal shooting hours.  According to the app on my phone, absolute sunset on the day in question was 6:22 p.m.  We can hunt one-half hour after sunset and that deer came out at 6:47 p.m., fully five minutes before the end of the legal shooting hours.

That mirrors my experience with shootable bucks.  You've got to wait until the last possible minute of legal shooting hours.  Of course, once the rut starts, all bets are off, but if I had to bet on one buck that we might convert into venison, I believe this one is the best bet.  And, there is nothing wrong with a little basket-rack 6-point when you're converting deer into suppertime.  The season for this little buck starts on November 16th, and hopefully we'll get some more photos so we can pattern him.

Red Sky

Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.

This photo from near my duty post at daylight this morning.

As it turns out, the old caution was correct.  We had terrible weather today.

Cardio

When I was wearing a uniform for the reserve forces, I had a set routine.  I'd get up at 5:00 am, get into my workout togs and go to the gym.  I had a route planned, and I'd do some strength training, then run two miles, get back to the gym, shower and head to work, getting there at about 7:00 am.  The office officially opened at 8:00, so I'd have an hour of quiet time to get my act together for the day.

When I retired from the Guard in 1999 I quit running.  I haven't run more than ten steps since then, and I've gained some weight, in March of the year, I was up to 260 lbs.  I decided I needed to lose weight, so I got into Weight Watchers and started eating smart, getting off wheat, watching my carbs, doing all the smart stuff.  I dropped 20 lbs and stuck at 240.  I've been stuck at 240 for about three months, so I decided that some cardio (gag, spit) might be in order.  Especially after my doc told me that if I didn't drop another 40 lbs that I was in real danger of becoming diabetic.

So, today I began walking.  During the hour between the end of the work day I walked around downtown Alexandria.  By that I mean that I walked from the hospital to the Interstate, down to Lee Street, back to the river, then across to the hospital.  Something over a mile-and-a-half, in a little less than 30 minutes.  Not a fast pace, but I haven't done any cardio in about 13 years.

It's back to the PT, and I'm almost completely out of shape.  God, I hate PT.

Hillary as SecState

You all remember that Hillary was the Secretary of State, and some folks are even talking about her presumptive run as President.  John McCain weighed in recently, with faint praise for his former associate.

“I don’t think there’s any doubt that Secretary Clinton would be a very strong candidate,” McCain said of the former secretary of state, senator from New York and first lady. “I don’t think there’s any doubt she has widespread support. Her work as secretary of state, with the exception of this issue of Benghazi — which isn’t going away — I think has been outstanding. I think she would be viewed by anyone, Republican or Democrat, as a very formidable candidate for 2016.”

Yeah, you see, John, that Benghazi thing isn't going away.  But beyond that can anyone give me one sterling accomplishment during Hillary's tenure as SecState?  Just one?  I'm not asking for three, or four.  Just one?

I've got nothing.

The New Stamp

Folks are telling me that the US Postal Service is rolling out a new Forever stamp to commemorate the rollout of Obamacare.

Hat Tip to The Cripple.