05 May 2015

Now Here's a Thing

I ran across an article claiming greater accuracy in global temperature records. The error corrected looks to be (adjusts reading skepticals) 3 one-thousands of one degree (0.003 degrees). I misremember if it's in Centigrade or real money, the point is that the margin of change is below the level of accuracy of the measuring devices.

Being a fan of the Houston Oilers, I remember fondly the great running back and half-assed passer Earl Campbell. (Pastorinini hands off to Cambell to the right. Earl takes it to the left. #34 up the middle. (if you think First down!). I am not going to accept a stat that tells me that he averaged 3.141592683 yards per carry. The average pretends to a level of accuracy that the original stats don't. (But dayum! That flea-flicker where he threw that TD pass LEFT-HANDED! Dayum!). The records are kept in units of one yard, as determined by a guy on the sidelines with a stick*.

This is the problem as I see it in the great Catastrophic Anthropogenic Global Warming scare, You know, the one that used to be Nuclear Winter, that had All The Best Minds convinced in the 1980s that right here right now there should be worldwide famine, cannibalism, and all kinds of nasty stuff. I'm damn near middle-aged, and I remember that crap.

I was taught in High School (I'd learned it earlier) that an average of averages is statistically meaningless. Also, that an average can never be more accurate than the original data. And also that cheerleader's panties are removable.

I've dealt with this stuff. Automated recording, site-specific planning, and all that. And I know that if your results don't please you, then you fuck the model, not the data.(There are sooooo many bad jokes that can be made here, but really most models have an attention span measured in cocaine. BTDT). If you must diddle your data you're not doing science, you're doing propaganda.

My prediction, free and for nothing, gratis,is that the Southern hemisphere will show a slight cooling. because volcano. (BTW, the hole in the ozone layer, the one in Antarctica, was directly above a newly found active volcano. Whoda thunk.) The eruption of Mt St Helen discharged the equivalent of three thousand years of human output, and so far as I can tell Microsoft (hiss, display crucifix, squirtgun of holy water) is still there.

's


    * Not to be putting down sticks. I am a great believer in appropriate technology, and sometimes a stick is exactly the tool that's needed.

** (Mother avert your eyes) Sweet Fuck All

30 April 2015

How I Buy Books



It's simple. I buy from used bookshops ('cause I's poor) or I buy online.

Some stuff just doesn't show up in used bookshops. I remember visiting Wells Maine, which seems to have one used bookshop for every 2 citizens;'and looking for some Evelyn Waugh. (Begin Maine accent) “Oh we never have his stuff. Folks just keep re-reading it and then pass it down to their children” (End Maine accent).

Okay, maybe that's just a local thing, but I live in Space City, Houston Fucking Texas For God's Sake. I go into the local Barne & Noble trolling for skiffy and find...dick. Actually, I find a lot of Dick. In trade paperback, no less. Don't get me wrong. I am a huge fan of PKD, from back when he was a nowhere man and still alive. Now he's an underrecognized literary genuis. And there I was thinking that he was turning out 5 novels a year to keep up with his alimony.. Silly me. I'm not seeing Pournelle, Niven, Robinson, HEINLEIN FOR CRISSAKE. Some David Weber (although IMPO he is kinda like the band Chicago - “complete the set”), four copies of Neal Stephenson's “Zodiac” and one of the middle volume of the “Quicksilver” trilogy.

China Mielville's newest gets “cover out” (shows front cover rather than just spine, with more copies to keep it level). Larry Correia? None. “We can't keep enough in stock so we don't even try”. Lots of dragons and sparkley vampires but no rockets to Mars.

Now let's go over to the used bookshops. I went to an independently owned used book shop with the complete series of Kinky Freidman novels (well, complete at the time). Most were autographed first editions. Maybe a dozen books. Shop-owner fucked me up. Asked me what I wanted for them. I told him maybe 25 bucks. knowing that the chain used bookshop down the street would offer me 5. “$50 and not a penny less” he said much to my surprise. “You know that he's playing at just 3 blocks from here this weekend. That's this week's island display!” (an island display is first one you see on entry, a table rather than shelves, You know what I mean). This is a man who knows his customers.

For new releases, I go to Azamon Aztoroth Amazon, because the just want my money, not my approval.
I wanna buy Helmut Newton photos, they're ok with that. The new Correia or Ringo? My money's fine with them. But I can't find them at the NewBookStores. “Cause they're tired of being asked for things when there's no demand “


So I don't go to chain bookstores. I do go to indie bookshops (Murder by the Book is really good on author appearances, and so is Brazos Books, and I wish them the best) and there are a couple of used bookshops that I won't name 'cause I'm a selfish sombitch (one begins with the letter q and is just around the corner from a well known pizza place near Rockin' Robin Guitar Shop, and another is in what's called the “Bellaire Triangle”).

Now here is the great secret. Estate sales. Paperbacks one dollar, Hardcovers $5.00. Buy it then, or wait a week or so. The unsold books are gonna end up at the local library for a tax deduction and at half the price. Check the obits. An old buddy of mine was a professor of geology, His hobby? Shakespere. Goes to show you never can tell.

So rock on.



This may seem odd


But I don't have interwebnetunnelhighwaystuffthing here at home, It costs money, of which I have very little. What I do instead is take advantage of the intertubenetweb services paid for by family, friends, the local library, and neighbors. I do this under the rubric of “dog-sitting”, or “keeping an eye on the place whilst you're out of town”.

Not wanting to wear out my welcome, my system is simple. Rightclicksavepagefolderonlinestuff. It's actually as fast if not faster than RSS feed, and I don't have to go through the mail provider's searchbots. I've got maybe 250 bookmarks in perhaps a dozen folders, plus a dedicated folder for new links. (Hit link, opens as new tab, new tab has HTTP, bookmark in “new stuff” folder, or whatever I'm calling it today).

Some stuff gets saved – bus routes and schedules, ampacity charts, NEMA plug standards, downloaded literachoor (I tend to use PDF, 'cause the Kindle Reader sucks).

But this is all by the way. I had an old buddy of mine as a sofa critter for entirely too long. He thought that I was holding out on him when I brought up a PDF of a bus route. “NO” I told him, “This is just a saved file!!” This is a guy who has been a computer programmer since the days of fucking PUNCHCARDS. (Well, I am too, but he's older than I am. I mean, like, I remember using tape cassettes and frisbee sized disks).

This is the thing: Keep it local. Compact storage is the way to go. Don't just rad, download. Store it. Ther's a buttload of stuff that I have copypastaed copy pasted onto an Open Office doc. Every ISP sucks and will have down/slow times. Keep what you need on hand.

For that matter, it might not be a bad idea to have a backup. Micro SD chips. Spare laptop. Faraday cage protected. Seriously. The local transformer going boom could destroy your Great American Novel, or your grand new prooof of the exceptions to the General Theory of Revativity.

I recall visiting me old budy John as a storm blew up. He was writing code for the operation of the brand new thing called the Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Sensor. (MRI, for those are more comfortable with the TLA). “Damn, John, shouldn't you save work?” Lightning hit he house next door, blacking out the neighborhood.

“Done it once and it took me 50 hours. Now I know how to do it I can do it in 3. Shit. Lights are out. Calls for Wild Turkey. Y”all got a joint? Wow, and here's some acid I had saved for a special occasion. Let's go watch the weather”.

2d Amendment


When we are told that the Founders of blessed memory meant only for Citizens to have rudimentery firearms for gamegetting purposes, I would like you to bear in mind that what they had at the time was the cutting edge of flintlock tech, and they had just pulled off a fucking REVOLUTION against what was at the time THE GREATEST MILITARY POWER ON THE FACE OF THE FUCKING PLANET.

Every rifle was an assault rifle, and every bullet was a “cop killer” bullet. As it was is the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.

16 March 2015

My Apologies


I haven't posted in a while for reasons great and small. Allow mw then to bring up some of the stuff from my “To Be Posted” folder:

QOTD

It always embarasssed Samuel Vimes when civilians tried to speak to him in what they thought was “policeman.” If it came to that, he hated thinking of them as civilians. What was a policeman, if not a civilian with a uniform and a badge? But they tended to use that term these days as a way of describing people who were not policeman. It was a dangerous habit: once policemen stopped being civilians the only other thing they could be was soldiers.”

Sir Pterry Pratchett, Snuff

And the citizens become perforce the enemy.

Which I find I isolated on 27 Feb of this year. Now I find that Sir pTerry Pratchett has taken the hand of the one who speaks in ALL CAPS

Work With Me Here

Pope Francis is the first Pope from the New World, right? That leaves 3 continents that have never had a Pope from their people, to wit Antarctica, Australia, and North America. (Note the use of impartial alphabetical order.

Now notice the continents which have not yielded a Secretary General of the United Nations, North America, Australia, and Antarctica. (Note again the reversal of alphabetical order to maintain fairness.)

Notice a pattern, a commonality, here?

Let's just leave Antarctica out of the equation. There are (to the best of my knowledge) no native born citizens of that caloricly challenged continent. Still fewer of them are Catholic.

That leaves North America and Oz as the heretofore unrepresented land masses, and I really don’t see a Pommie Pope, lark though it would be. “Wine, beer, it's all same old. Drag in a few keggies and let's do something about them crackers, eh? Get some substance into our trans-substantiation, roit? And Marmite! Gotta have Marmite. Proof Along with beer that God loves us and has a sense of humour! Now we got that sorted, who's for a brew and a demo of crocodile rasslling!” I live in hope. Realio Trulio, I live in hope. (Mother's mother's mother's family. Hogans. Transported. I think.. They don't talk about it, on account of being dead for centuries.)

So, the next Pope will an Italian. 'Cause that's what happens. But the one after him will be either Mexican or Canadian, and my money is on the Canuk CSB. {Congregation of Saint Basil, or Basilian Order, a teaching order like the Jesuits (Society of Jesus) through whose kindly hands – ouch, ouch- I passed during high school}.

But the UN, on the other hand...

That's where the venom comes out. Ban Ki Moon doesn’t even know if he's from Burma or Myanmar. The Secretaries General of the United Nations have been without fail losers and failures. Read Dag Hammarskjold. Go on. I dare you. Fail in ALL CAPS, bad politician and worse philosopher. Started out FAIL and continued FAIL.

So, here we are. There are but 2 realistic candidates for Sec Gen of the UN, but the pope is an Argie. Ladies and Gentlemen, with great sadness but some limited hope for the future, I give you the next Secretary General of the United Nations, the last, greatest hope for humanity...........

Barack Hussein Obama. 

 
Just a minute here

Law Enforcement Officials are te “hard men standing to protect us” as posited by Blair. But they are also “the few” who can be trusted with lethal arms. And they are also so precious that their safety trumps the safety of the passer by.

I think I missed something.

 
Memory

So I can remember the 8 tiny reindeer: Dasher, Dancer. Donner and Blitzen. Comet and Cupid and Bonner and Vixen.
There are the Nine Walkers: Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, Gandolf, Pippin, Merry, Frodo and Sam.
Athos Porthos, and Aramis. (add D'Artagnon if you want) Musketeeers
Mannie Moe and Jack. Pep Boys
Larry Curly and Moe. (I stick my fingers in your eyes) (Shemp is non-canonical)
Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, Doc, Happy, and Bashfull.
Matthew Mark Luke and John
Peter, Susan, Eustace and.....

Drawing a blank on the Pevensies. And Eustace was a cousin anyway.

Been too long, I guess, since I read the Chronicles. Perhaps I'm no longer Narnia Qualified, being interested in nylons and those that wear them

Peter was the only one tempted in a carnal fashion. (WTF is “Turkish delight anyway? But that was Eustace )

Got Edmund, now, but still missing one.


Just a minute here


Law Enforcement Officials are the “hard men standing to protect us” as posited by Blair. But they are also “the few” who can be trusted with lethal arms. And they are also so precious that their safety trumps the safety of the passer by.

I think I missed something.

02 December 2014

Keeping the stiff upper lip

Or not as the case may be. I used to have a really really dumb cell phone. You could set reminders in it, and then set for “remind me again in: (hh/mm). , for (time limits).

I set it up to prompt me with messages like “Cheer up motherfucker”, or “Smile dammit, it doesn't hurt that much”.

Sometimes it would go off when I was dealing with an obstreperous type. I would say “pardon me”, turn to the side, and read the message. Some fuckwits would demand “WHAT'S SO DAMN IMPORTANT”, and I would show that person the message.

Truly is it written that a soft voice turneth away anger. Every rant against me was stopped, but more important it was a random reminder to me, 'cause that's why I set it up. Can't figure how to do that on my current phone (not a dumb phone, not a smart phone).

There's probably an app for that now, but I like mine better.

Habit I Didn't Realize I Had

Conversion factors. Inches to centimeters, miles to kilometers, pounds to kilos, and the other way too. I just do 'em in my head, bounce 'em back and forth. And fractions to decimal. No wizardry, just to 2 decimal places, working estimate kinda range.


I mean, doesn't EVERYBODY do this? 3 meters is 9'9”, right? 10 CM is 4 inches, right? 40 KPH is 25 MPH in real money? I just do it, allee timee. Remember that 1/7 is pretty much 0.14 and all the rest is gravy! I mean, what's so hard about this? A meter's 3 foot and a quarter. Every 4 meters multiply by 3 and add 1. This is not rocket surgery. Most of the time you don't have to be too accurate. Peso is 12 to the dollar? Call 80 Pesos a buck, less a bit (4cents, not a “2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits a dollar” bit). 12.5, you're dead on, 13 P/$ it's $1.04 in real money. This within rounding error, or as I think of it, sales tax margin. If you're buying real estate or jet planes...fuggit. You're already paying accountants and tax specialists, and they're doing rocket surgery.

But don 't bother with temperature conversions. There's “too damn hot I'm staying in the A/C”, “I'm sweating like a pig but this yard isn't gonna mow itself”, “God the pool looks lovely”, “Lovely day innit?”, “Football season already?”, “Too damn cold, but these leaves aren't gonna rake themselves”, and “Too damn cold I'm gonna stay in side in the warm”. Some effete wimps use shorts v. sweaters as a metric. For that matter I understand that the name of the band“3 Dog Night” comes from an aboriginal American metric for “Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey”, which in turn has to do with iron cannonballs and brass trays, and the relative expansion in cold. No monkeys were hurt in the making of this post.

Scary thought

Reading http://www.thebangswitch.com/its-not-about-safety-its-about-control-and-confiscation/ , it came to my mind that almost all gun control laws begin with control of “Military and Law Enforcement” type weapons. This would mean, in effect, all firearms chambered for “mil spec/LEO” rounds.

Am I alone in seeing this as reason for the .gov to keep switching calibers? Ban .38 Special, .357 Mag.,45ACP, 9x19, .40 cal and 10mm handguns? They're all traditional LEO rounds. And 5.56 and the virtual equivalent .223 Rem, as well as 7.62/.308, 30.06, .338 Lapua, .300 Win Mag and .50BMG?

Just spit-balling here, but there is historical precedent

03 November 2014

Downfallenboomengoen

That's German for “fall down go boom”. Got a neat bruise on the right bicep, just above the elbow, A cute set of bruises on the head, with a moderate concussion. As the cherry on the top , a cracked sternum Nice.

That means, Amy, no hugs or jokes.

Aspirin, Mucinex, antihistamines for the duration. (Why the Mucinex and benedryl? Hurts like bugger-all to cough.) Imma be sluggish for the next undefined while.

Bunch of stuff I finally got around to posting below.

Farewell Dusty Steed

I last saw you in the parking garage of M.D. Anderson Professional Building on the 16th of October. I felt certain that you were safe, some 10 yards from a guard kiosk, with the lock through rear wheel and frame, in a sturdy bike rack, but no.

When I returned from my visit to my girlfriend, you were gone.

I remember when we first met. You had been abandoned, shackled to a gas meter behind an apartment building, you tires rotted, your saddle sodden but unworn. Your old master had been sick, you see, and could no longer care for you. “Take him, please, with my blessings” he told me.

And I replaced your perished rubber. I oiled your chain and packed your bearings. I got you a proud new saddle of bright yellow which looked oh so fine with your dark green classic Schwinn chrome-moly frame. “Suburban” said one sticker, and “Made in USA” proclaimed another.

We were neither of us young. You were a product of the 80s, when it was still possible to be a 5 speed and proud . You disdained to be fettered with a rack, leaving only the mounting bracket affixed within your rear brake bolts. My neglecting to re-install the bolts on your down-tube probably caused you some pains in the bottom bracket on winter mornings, but you never complained.

But your handlebars! Remember when they were so broad and flat that we couldn't get between parked cars? Then I took the sawzall and trimmed them, and moved the brakes and shifter and grips? And then we could dance, my old friend, moving with precision and speed. Moving confidently through combat with the motor vehicles, and passing the posers all outfitted on the bike paths.

I miss you, my dusty steed.

October in Houston

The Bayou City, Space City, Where 17 Railroads meet the Sea. Home of the 8th wonder of the World (the Astrodome), and the world's largest Medical Center. Fuck near 1k square miles. Keeps getting bigger. Circumscribed by Loop 610 in the late 60s. By the Tollway in the 80, by the beltway in the 90s and still expanding.

I don't live in the heart of the city, but well inside the thoracic cavity. Imagine the city of Houston as a patient etherised n the table, with urinary catheter discharging to Galveston Bay. I'm in the upper right lung. Nice neighborhood, to tell the truth, the Corps of Engineers dredged and lined the bayou there for flood control purposes but I can go to the banks and see coyotes and ospreys, Great Blue Herons and their lesser kin, anhingas and wood ducks. A buddy a few mile upstream swears he saw a family of white-tail deer coming down to the water, but they might have been from a golf course. Carp, scooters, snappers and I swear to GOD once an alligator. All of this within a quarter mile of my place.

Turn the other direction, though, and I have a big freeway. Not really really close, about a mile and a half. Not a really really big freeway, but broad enough to attract redlining riceburnering crotchrockets loud enough to set off car alarms in my neighborhood. Soon it will turn chilly, and they will drive their girlfriends cars to work because they haven't discovered glove technology.

Ah, October, the time of High School football and even worse High School Homecomings which allow the flower merchants to squeak by by selling cheap mums dyed in unlikely colors. Usually co-ordinated with class reunions, those monuments to embarrassment.

The smell of smoke on the air is still barbecue. No-one in Houston uses a wood-burning fireplace as anything other than an affectation, a symbol. Most people with fireplaces will actually turn up the AC to give a bit of verisimilitude. Makes for expensive s'mores

Some trees turn colors, though. Mostly the Chinese Tallow, an introduced species with useless wood for burning or for construction, and sweetgum, which is good for both. The pecans drop their fruit, but first the fibrous husks so desired by meat smokers. (Use some hardware cloth, or just foil, to build a cradle to hold the husks over the heat source, and smoke pork loins stuffed with apple slices, or corned beef brisket. Fire at “infinite patience” setting, or if you prefer “fraction of eternity”. Low and slow, that's the ticket, and you can use the ones gnawed by squirrels, too. I love you too.)

Good time to go out birding, too. It's starting to get cold up there in Canadiastan. Find some cranes; Whooping or Sandhill, they're both beautiful. Want a good cheap hobby? $10 for a cheap set of binoculars and $40 for a new copy of Peterson's Field Guide to the Birds of North America. More local versions are available: “Texas” is the one I keep. Look for it in your local used bookshop. Mark one eyeball is good too. That's how I spotted the American Bittern (The American Bittern will be at rest with its beak pointed at the sky and with a skinny neck and body such that it resembles a cat-tail reed. I mean it really does look like a cat-tail reed. It was a quarter beat late on the wind at Brazos Bend State Park. Low voice to all: from broken willow branch at 2 o clock, Now down 6 feet. See it now?). You can garner a respectable Life List inside the city limits, and a world-slass Life List without driving more than an hour.

You don't believe me? Talk to the head groundskeeper of your nearest golf course.

Get your bag limit on migratory ducks and geese. Protip: move at least 5 miles from nearest golf course. Srsly. Taste horrible, and buttermilk won't cut it.

Them animals ain't dumb, although they are speech inpared. Reptiles will be a bit more aggressive. Alligators especially

Fall is the time to fatten up: Reptiles, birds, and mammals. This is when you'll see foxes and coyotes on your golf course going after captive ducks and geese (you did know that some have their wings trimmed to keep them as nature status symbols? Even swans, in some areas0. Turtles have some good eating on them if you can figure out how to peel them. Worse than M&Ms, I tell you.


Secondhand smoke



Once upon a time there was a peaceful but rich city called Houston. It was the hub of an airline called “Branniff”. There was a hotel called the Shamrock.

The hotel had many famous bars, some of which were in the pool area, where rich men were known to take the waters.

It was also the hotel used by the airlines to domicile the workers in transit,and was also the preferred hotel for rich dudes, since at that time only rich dudes could fly.

A stewardess was once rebuked, hearing “OMG your hair smells of tobacco smoke”.

So she had to go wash her hair before trying to pick up rich guys, and therefore the native beauties (and oh god do we have some....)This meant that she couldn't fuck the rich guy. Because someone else got there first.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason that there is the entire “secondhand smoke” bullshit.

SNAP

Supplemental Nutritional Aid Program.

Yes, I get it. I use it to buy food. Beans, rice, tuna, milk, butter, fruits and veg. I buy a lot of frozen, 'cause it's cheaper than fresh and cooks up just about the same. But I cook.

Come over to my place and you might get paella,

Dood, I know what that costs at a restaurant!

But it's cheap food. “Paella” is from “Para Ella” which means “for her” which means the maid's take-away. This is leftovers and to tell you the truth I do a damn good paella and I get sick of it.

And you know what? Paella ain't nothing but dirty rice, which turns into Creole Gumbo with some tomato sauce...

The woman who grew up to be my ex wife decided she liked me when I went into her kitchen. “There's nothing here to eat” she said, and then I made a nice pasta with ham and peas in an Alfredo. Nothing to eat?

I admit that I am not the average consumer of food. I've been a professional chef (but not at the time above referenced). I didn't learn from my mother or from my grandmother.

I taught myself, just as I taught myself to play guitar. I want something that tastes like this. At the age of 14 I was doing the special dinners for the family (OMG! The Bishop's coming! Cook something good!) and then taking my flattop off to a bar and playing for free beer (I wanna have something that sounds like this!).

But there's stuff I can't get with SNAP.

Toilet paper.

Soap.

Laundry supplies

Stuff my girlfriend needs when she comes to visit.

OTC meds. e.g. Aspirin and antihistamines.




So Who's A Boomer

Ah, the Summer of Love. I remember it it well. That's when my babysitter would bring her boyfriend over, listen to some records, smoke some funny cigarettes, tell me it was bedtime, and then make funny noises. Well, maybe I don't remember it all that well.

But I'm still considered a “Boomer” . To which I say “Horseshit”. The Evil Lady of Evil Sarah Hoyt (Evil be upon her)wrote about this conundrum a few months ago.

I'm Generation ?. Missed the free love and nekkid dancing in the mud at Woodstock. You know what? All the folks that did that are well into Social Security now, but if you watch TV all the VietNam vets are portrayed as late 30s to early 50s. So very wrong.

Wanna see a vet from 'Nam? John McCain, that old fart. John Ketchup Kerry, that old fraud.

Those are the vets, and that's their age. There is a terrible nostalgia working here. A longing for a period when they thought they made a difference, but didn't. Lil' Bobby Dylan wrote “Forever Young” for his kid, not for you. (Have you seen a recent pic of him?) Take your polished aluminum Jerry Jeff Walkers outside. Fight amongst yourselves in the alley, and wait for the VA to pick you up.

The bartender has better things to do

Tele-Fun

Mild version

(Phone rings, I answer): Hello

Unidentified caller: Is this (name goes here)?

Self: I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name

Caller: I'm Poor Sumdood who has no morals, with BillCollecting Inc.

Self: Well I hope you find the sonofabitch. He took off a couple months ago and left me here with our 5 kids and 3 Rottweilers, and on top of that I have to feed the Rotties first or they'll eat the children, and SNAP benefits don't cover dogfood so I have to feed them raw meat so the children don't get any and...

Caller: Hangs up

(Works best if you are in fact a woman or at least can do a credible WhiteTrash FemVoice.)

Over the Top Gay versions are fun, too:

Self: OOOOOH that SCAMP! You just see what happens when he gets home! That BITCH! We traveled all the way to Vermont to have the ceremony so his family could be there, and this is the way he treats me. I should go back to New Orleans (you know I moved there from Boise) but the humidity and the youth gangs, I mean youth is all very well in its place, but...

Caller: Hangs up

Very Dangerous:

Self: No I do not know of the person of whom you are talking about (hand over phone: He has betrayed us! He left his cell phone with GPS! The DHS is closing in! Everybody lock and load! Allahu Snackbar!) I'm sorry, perhaps you have reached a wrong number. (Death to the Infidel), hang up, notify neighbors to evacuate, wait for SWAT team, make home video.

Caller: Hangs up, calls DHS

Come on kids, work up your own, and remember, this could be avoided by saying “Hi, I'm (name goes here) with (Other name goes here).





Vay-Cay

That's what the Preznit of the USA is doing, but he's doing it wrong. He should be spending it with his peers, that is the other Presidents of the USA. Let his spend the heat of August in Georgia swinging a hammer with Jimmy Carter in the Georgia heat.

Go visit George W. in the the beautiful Texas Hill Country. That's an eco-friendly house, too, geothermal heating and cooling, greywater recycling, all that Green stuff. Ride a horse, not a sissy bike. (Not all bikes are sissy bikes.) Tag along with W when he tells the Secret Squirrels he wants to go to the airport to just say Hi and Thanks, and if you leak this your ass is back in DC.

Do some work that breaks a sweat and builds calluses, and freak out the world by going to Harbor Freight and getting the 5 pair for $8 leather palm work gloves because dammit every time I need a pair I can't find the fuckers. Drink some Iron City, some Narragansett, some Shiner. Break a sweat for crissakes, but I'll still let you complain that “Well,that's 3 strokes off my golf game”. Shit, visit Willie Nelson and play on his personal private 3 hole golf course, and keep a copy of the course rules. (They are funny, and I hate golf). Hit Kennebunkport and try out the par3s there with GHWB. Do it for time, not form, like the old man does.

You know what you'd be doing? You could be latching on to the combined wisdom of some other guys who know just how hard the job is. You'd be looking as if you gave a shit. You'd save the taxpayers tens of millions of dollars, because you'd just be deadheading on the existing Presidential Protective Service.

But, no. You insist on hiding out at a cost of well over a million dollars per day in salaries alone for your retinue to hang out in an echo chamber. I never thought you were really Irish , Mister O'Bama., but you're really open handed with the OPM (Other People's Money) and word is that you're a really lousy tipper, too.

15 October 2014

Y

crmosone:

Little Stevie Winwood: 

By the windy city:


:By the old school: 



And a personal fave, Grand Funk: 

Gonna strut like a cock until I'm 99

09 October 2014

Scary thought


Reading http://www.thebangswitch.com/its-not-about-safety-its-about-control-and-confiscation/ , it came to my mind that almost all gun control laws begin with control of “Military and Law Enforcement” type weapons. This would mean, in effect, all firearms chambered for “mil spec/LEO” rounds.

Am I alone in seeing this as reason for the .gov to keep switching calibers? Ban .38 Special, .357 Mag.,45ACP, 9x19, .40 cal and 10mm handguns? They're all traditional LEO rounds. And 5.56 and the virtual equivalent .223 Rem, as well as 7.62/.308, 30.06, .338 Lapua, .300 Win Mag and .50BMG?

Just spit-balling here, but there is historical precedent