Thursday, September 27, 2007

Self Defense

This from Sharp as a Marble. So a handicapped guy gets robbed and beaten, escapes in his truck, calls 911 and the operator forces him to return to the scene... (this part verified by review of the tapes) where the perpetrators are waiting. When they resume the attack, he finally pulls a gun and sends them packing.

Couple of questions:

1. Is the 911 operator going to be charged as an accessory?

2. What is a guy with zero working legs supposed to do when attacked by five healthy men?

3. If gun owners are barely-holding-it-together psychotics, why did he wait until forced to return to draw the gun?

and for all the money...
4. If someone is breaking into your house tonight would you rather take your chances with a gun or risk getting a 911 operator like the one in the story?

Monday, September 24, 2007


Civilizations die from suicide, not by murder.
Arnold Toynbee

Ask any emergency worker what they consider their most dangerous situation, and they will tell you its a suicide attempt. The guy holding the gun to his head might decide he doesn't have the nerve to pull the trigger, but if he pops off a couple of rounds at the police, they'll end the matter for him. The cops know suicidal rage can turn to homicidal rage in a second.

I felt like those cops today after hearing that Columbia University invited a genocidal freak to air his views on their campus under the guise of "dialog". The prissy, ass-kissing, sonofabitch who passed the invite to the Iranian terrorist supporter and tyrant had the monumental gall to lecture critics on being open minded. Apparently, a mind so open you could drive a truck through it is a requisite for the presidency of an Ivy League college.

Perhaps we should stone some rape victims to death as adulteresses, or drop walls on a few homosexuals in order to achieve a little cultural communion with the leaders of Iran... what do you think Mr. Bollinger?

Look pal, you want this country's civilization dead - that's the only explanation I can think of when someone who supposedly has the job of safeguarding and advancing our cultural heritage actually lends a forum to the worst of our avowed enemies. The terrifying part of it is you want to take the rest of us down the road to oblivion with you while paying for the privilege.

I wish there was an easy way to stop you from killing us -- sure I'll write my congressman and demand that none of my tax dollars go to buy the bullets aimed at us, but it won't help; you have the bigger voice. I'll rant to the internet about the danger you pose, but come on, even if I was a major blogger, I still have to spend eight hours at a day job to keep a roof and food over and in me respectively, while you're the full-time cultural fat cat with the endowment, and that's just the way it is.

But I will not despair, us worms of the earth have to grind away where we can.
It's a slow-motion murder-suicide you're running, and there are ways even us peasants can fight back. The mush for brains mouth breather with the face piercings at the coffee shop is the ultimate end user of the intellectual pablum you and yours have been serving up, and him I can work on -- maybe a few hints that you're a big Bush donor and its all part of the war for oil conspiracy to get us into it with Iran. It ain't much, but It will make me feel better.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


What has happened to the Humanities in the United States is nothing short of criminal. The barbarians were invited in and given teaching positions, and no one seemed to think it was a bad idea except the students who stayed away in droves.

Ah comeuppance... This from Classical Values ... follow the links and read it all.

If you tell students re-runs of Gilligan's Island are of the same value as Keats, don't be surprised when they skip your class and go for computer engineering instead.

Rule #1

I was visiting friends on Sunday and wanted to show off the new pistol, so I transfer it from the range case to the original box in preparation for locking it in the trunk, as I am doing so, T.W. says, "Rule number one?". (Thanks to Xavier for the link)

Did I stop, open the cylinder and visually check every chamber?

You. Bet. Your. Ass. I. Did.

God, I love that woman.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

One Question

From Kevin at The Smallest Minority, we find this.
My question for every politician who is blowing smoke about health care is, "If the United States establishes a health care system similar to Canada's, will it also establish rules which require all government employees - president, senator, congressman, - everyone, to use that system?" Because I'm not going for it if they're going to make the peasantry go to the doctors with the yearlong waiting lists while they get lear-jetted to Walter Reed for ingrown toenails.

Friday, September 14, 2007


I was thinking about the political labels we all seem to end up with, and was trying to decide what makes a liberal different from a conservative. One way is in the opinion department. Conservatives have opinions - some of them pretty half-baked, and liberals have opinions - some of them even based on a kind of critical thought, but the difference is that conservatives realize they may be wrong so are at least a little careful with their opinions, while liberals have no such restraint and will use government power to make you believe what they believe.

Your Pirate Name

My pirate name is:

Iron Jack Rackham

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from
part of the network

Arrgh mateys scupper the mainsail... um... er... just take the quiz k thx bai.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Schooling vs. education

Read what the fellow going by the name "Culturologist" has to say in the comments. More importantly, notice how he says it. Now here is a guy who is very impressed with himself and his "accomplishments", but I have to think that just because you spend a lot of cash buying a degree, this no more makes you educated than laying out the dough for a formula one car makes you Mario Andretti. Education can happen wherever you are, even sometimes in school, but if all you do is go to school - all you get is schooled.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Econ 101

I've been pretty busy lately, but in my spare time I've begun to read "Free to Choose" the brilliant work by Milton and Rose Friedman. While less directly about economics than philosophy it is still a stunning work.

Big dork that I am, I have to take it in small sections because every couple of pages or so, I run across things which rock me so hard I have to spend the rest of the night thinking about the implications.

It also fills me with profound sadness - especially the sections on social security and education. If there was a way to take the entire country by the lapels, shake it and say, "Here! Read this, and next time you think you're getting something for nothing, read this again."

Friedman was right almost thirty years ago and has been given lip service since then, but no one who matters (read: the people who keep returning pandering, self-serving politicians to office) really pays attention.

Put it this way, imagine you are sitting in a burned out basement in Berlin in 1945 and you come across a book written in 1915 which accurately predicted world events and laid out a plan to avoid the disaster, but had languished unread because no one wanted to believe.

Yeah, its like that.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

A Fisk On Both Your Houses

By now everyone who matters in the gunblogger community has read this as noted by Uncle.
Falling into the troll trap set by an obvious psychopath like Mr.Schannon is weak of me, but since I'm tucked away here in the backwaters of the blogosphere, and this is mostly a writing exercise I'll take up the challenge.

Oh yes, psychopath, he really believes his stuff. Dictators of old (and not so old) had a trick: they would attack someone, and then when their victim defended himself they would cast them in the role of the aggressor and claim to be in the right. Everyone knew their claims were a fig leaf to cover their viciousness - they were lying, everyone knew it, but as long as appearances were kept up, things could go along as usual. Schannon's not kidding. He really thinks he's offering a compromise, and is by now probably shaking his head with regret at the stubbornness of us gunnies.

Mister "reasoned approach" sees gun owners as falling into two groups.

hunters all dressed up in their "out-to-kill" finery, oiling stocks and cutting cross-hatches into their bullet points...
and these are the semi-okay ones who will maybe be allowed to keep some guns. The ones who own anything but hunting weapons are the crazies who need disarmed.

Oh yeah, I'm feeling the love and respect just wash over me.

It seems however, he's failed to characterize the folks at the Brady Campaign, and Violence Policy Center. How about I cover for ya, pal... "Wasp-waisted sissies all dressed up in clingy rayon with hearts, eyelashes, and wrists all aflutter at the mention of the word gun." There ya go princess, feel free to use it next time you're feeling all "reasonable".

The second amendment he decides is a
veritable smorgasbord of words that can be construed to arrive at any conclusion one wants. What the hell does it mean?
and he doesn't see how, if someone of his titanic intellect can't make heads or tails of it, anyone could. Guess all those constitutional law profs are just treading water, eh?

By my count, its twenty seven mostly one and two syllable words, three commas, and two clauses. One premise, one conclusion - us knuckle draggers with the cross-hatched bullets must not have the subtlety of mind necessary to squeeze ambiguity out of a thing like that.

I'm glad he's not a lawyer... letting a judge in on his "humble opinions" would have his clients strapped to a gurney for parking tickets..

He continues by asking...
So, how does one rationally address this issue? (Pardon me while I fall off my chair laughing.)
No, pardon me while I fall off my chair laughing at what you consider rationality.

But as he says, he's not an unreasonable guy; he's a meet you in the middle type...
But I wouldn't let my personal distaste for those chickens (like there's real danger in going after deer) interfere with my desire to strike a compromise with the pro-gunners that guarantees their right to rifles and shotguns.

You got that, all you chickens? - no pistols, nothing semi-automatic, no scary looking stuff mind you, and if you get uppity,mister
cowardly-animal-slaughterer, "old reasonable" will have to step on some necks. Call me a cynic, but if the guy's got that low of an opinion of hunters, I don't see them having a lot of future after the rest of us are disarmed.

There's a few wrinkles to work out on the road to paradise...
Of course, we have to address the automatic vs. semi-automatic issue as well as the increasing number of guns that resemble Rambo's favorite wartime toys, but once we're engaged in good faith efforts, one can hope that we can isolate the extremists on both sides. I can't believe that every pro-gunner wants an Uzi... or at least I hope not.
Well now, what could be fairer than that? You don't really want an Uzi, do you? What are you some kind of extremist?

All it takes is a little love, a little trust, realizing the other guy isn't a murderous, festering, drooling, gun-owning, retard (much). After all Mark Schannon has...
engineered this process between chemical plants and the communities in which they operate, and it takes a long, long time, as well as people who truly want a reasonable, workable solution.

Holy crap, I'd like to know where those communities are and how much green glowing goo is bubbling up through the basement floors of people who trusted "Old Reasonable".

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Breda’s First Boomstick

T.W. isn’t a shy person by any means, but she doesn’t object to being in the background until she’s comfortable with a situation. So, after going shooting a few times with me, and expressing some disappointment in her progress, I pointed out we had a family membership at the range and, since it was only ten minutes away, she could run up there anytime she wanted and practice to her heart’s content.

After thinking about it for a while, she decided that, yes indeedy, she could do just that. Now she packs up the guns, walks in, spends a little time cracking wise with the guy behind the counter, gets her a lane and opens fire.

My wife’s a regular at the gun shop; I’m very proud of her.

What’s more, she likes to learn anything from anyone who has something to teach: .357 mag – sure, Kel-Tec .32 – bring it on, wadcutters in the .38 for double action practice – sounds good. She does draw the line at the gun shop commandos who try to chat up the cute girl at the range – Trophy Wife has a stare that could teach Lord Kelvin a thing or two about cold – trust me.

If all goes well, a new milestone should be reached Thursday - yep, my wife is going to buy her first gun. We don’t have a .22 revolver and no home is complete without one, so yesterday I made some arrangements, and a shiny new Taurus Model 94 should be arriving tomorrow. I will be at work, so T.W. is the one who will fill out the paperwork, hand over the money, and get the thrill of opening the toy box. I hope this particular thrill doesn’t become too habit forming if she developes a liking for Kimbers and such.

I may have made a small mistake of showing her the pistol on the Taurus website however. She clicked on the accessories link and thought the optional rosewood grips quite handsome. I told her there were lots of aftermarket grips available though, and look around some. She found some all right – they’re shiny, and pearly, and pink… oh my.

I guess I’m secure enough in my manhood to shoot a pistol with pink grips, I guess.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Propellers on jets

I came across this at Ace of Spades HQ this morning. It seems kind of an off-hand weekend post about a humongous house and includes one of Mr. "Of Spade's" stalwarts commenting on a quote from a sociology professor.

The AOS people are a worldly bunch and reading some professor's standard liberal blah-blah about conspicuous consumption probably doesn't cause the outrage-o-meter to even twitch over there. In my little patch of nowhere, this sort of thing from someone whose pay comes from my tax dollars and who should know better causes much eye-twitching.

This from a September 1st AP story:
"Do you actually need to have that amount of space to live a good life?" said Susan A. Eisenhandler, a sociology professor at the University of Connecticut. "There are homeless people. There are impoverished people. There are serious social concerns, and we're not addressing that."

As one whose livelihood is tied to the construction industry, I would like to take this opportunity to note that Susan A. Eisenhandler is an idiot of the first water.

Sue, (you don't mind if I call you Sue... good) back in the World War II days, Bell Aviation was working on developing a jet airplane. In order to confuse potential spies, they built a fake propeller to attach to the thing when not in actual use - the theory being that enemy spies would see the big spinny thing on the front and conclude that this was just another piston engined airplane. The point is, they didn't actually try to fly the airplane with the propeller on.

That propeller is you Sue: functionless, completely for show, and actually dangerous when employed.

When whatever gazillionaire built the monstrous house, he employed architects, engineers, bricklayers, ditch diggers, and a drooling half-wit with a push broom to clean up after everyone went home for the night. Those people give to charities or at least pay taxes, and every one of them has a skill for which someone is willing to pay them for the practice thereof.

In short Sue, the building of the rich man's house provided more real, measurable benefits than all the sociology professors of all the universities in the whole wide county.

Here's a little test for you Sue, quit your taxpayer funded job and go free lance. That's right, hang out your shingle as a sociologist for hire. Drop us a line once in a while so we can know how its all turning out. Worse comes to worst, you can always try to wrestle the guy's broom away from him.

Frankly, my money's on the drooling half-wit.

Help Me Out Here

I’ve been thinking about the thirteen year old kid who got himself suspended from school for drawing a picture of a ray gun. There’s been a lot of commentary on this from people who are smarter than me, and all I’ve got is the choice between stomping around the house sputtering like an old lawnmower engine and frightening T.W. or trying to get some thoughts down on paper.

First, the teacher: seems to me “Johnny, you should be paying attention to what is going on here and not doodling, so please put that back in your notebook and focus on the blackboard” seems to be the appropriate response to the situation. Did this teacher develop a dislike for the kid (don’t tell me it doesn’t happen), and see a chance to stick it to him? Was little Johnny a discipline problem who needed straightening out - content of his doodles notwithstanding? Or does the teacher suffer from what can be described as primitive screwhead-ism – you know, the belief that the picture of a thing somehow invokes the power of the thing itself? Doesn’t seem like this is a desirable quality for someone whose job it is to guide young minds on their intellectual journey.

The principal of the school, at least, should show a little more restraint. A lecture about paying attention, maybe a note home, even a stint of after school time (and a little chat with the boy’s teacher to maybe display a little more fortitude when confronted with icky pictures) seem appropriate here. We all know what actually happened – claiming that the rules are the rules, and she had no choice but to obey, the principal ordered a five day suspension, later magnanimously lowered to three days, and the school's not discussing the matter citing, wait for it… the student’s right to privacy.

How did we get to this place? How is it that cascading idiocy cannot be stopped, that people with authority are so desperate to bow to the altar of expediency that they become incapable of exercising the judgment without which their authority becomes a farce?

Does the school administration really believe they have prevented a tragedy, that they have made their school safer? Do they think they have taught the kid a lesson? They have, but not the one they were intending: their ounce-of-image equals pounds-of-performance posturing has simply exposed them as hysterical frauds, and learning that about them is an education of sorts.

Sunday, September 2, 2007


Mr. Ruger made some fine guns - affordable, dependable, and built like tanks. I own a couple and like them. One of the favorites is a MK II - since it's a twenty-two it sees a lot of use. Actually T.W. shoots it more than me - lordy but that girl can burn through the rimfire, if she ever takes up benchrest shooting it'll be second mortgage time.

Anyway, it was out at the range Thursday (did I mention T.W. likes to shoot?) and I didn't get to cleaning it until Saturday morning in preparation for T.W. to take co-worker Holly on her first time shooting.

As I was saying, Mr. Ruger made some fine guns, but there is one slight problem with his MK II auto pistol... cleaning it, more precisely, re-assembling it after cleaning is difficult. Wait, not difficult: a devilish, screaming with frustration, swearing, and calling the god's own fire down of the accursed thing - pain in the butt.

Hold the pistol upside down, insert the post of the mainspring housing through the top of the frame, make sure the hammer spur is dangling free and aligned with the little-dimple-that-you-can't-see, then slowly rock the bottom of the mainspring housing into the grip frame, and oops... the little little post from step one has levered its way out so start over. Now pull the trigger (but don't pull it), and hooray, the bottom of the mainspring housing slips into place like it was made to fit (I suspect it was), flip up the little lever to lock everything into place, and pull back the bolt to spread out the oil on the receiver rails... I said, pull back the bolt... why doesn't the ##$%$### bolt go back? Why is the @$@%#@!@*%$$#& gun locked up tighter than a politician's ethics? Okay, jimmy open the little lever and work it back and and forth while gently cursing to remove the mainspring housing, repeat steps one through twenty-seven until some combination of the above results - god knows how because no one else does - in the pistol going back together (n.b. the use of the passive voice is intentional here, because the correct re-assembly of a Ruger MK II is the result of forces beyond your control) and working.

Saturday I took it apart, cleaned it, and put it back together correctly the first time. I have no idea how. I live in fear that this is a sign of the end times.

Saturday, September 1, 2007

go ahead, take the quiz, you know you want to... says I'm an Uber Cool History / Lit Geek.  What are you?  Click here!

Opening Day

Hello... hello... is this thing on? This is mine own message in a bottle and if anyone is reading, allow me to thank you in advance.

Special thanks also go out to the Trophy Wife (hereinafter T.W.) for setting this thing up for me and encouraging me to actually write down and post my thoughts instead of just pestering her with them.

I suppose if you are reading this you may be interested in the one who put the scrap of paper in the bottle as it were:

The divine Miss Dickinson pretty much nails it.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

This nobody has opinions however, and as supreme power in Mike-istan, I intend to share them (or at least write them). The whole Mike-istan thing is admittedly a conceit, but I think it points to an important issue - we are all master of our own minds; we all own ourselves. I am not the originator of this idea; it is standard libertarian fare, and very profound when you think about it.

If someone kicked open your door and tried to take your stuff, regardless of whether or not you were in a position to stop them, you would be hurt, angry, enraged and offended. Every day people are trying to do just that with your mind: commercials, solicitors, and ads are one way it is done, but add to that politicians and special interest groups who want to use the power of the government to make you drive, eat, and think what they want.

Maybe it is just me, but as my own nobody, I become very angry when some a**hole decides he knows what is better for me than me. But what really frosts me is when he doesn't have the decency to try and sell me on the prescription, but goes right to the legislature to have it enacted as a statute. I believe the term for this is skull-f***ed without the courtesy of a reach-around.

Well... just let them try - my mind is stocked with many sharp, pointy objects and stands ready to lacerate the... uhm, er, aaah, okay we're heading into the darker reaches of metaphor land here, and I've got to go out and buy ammo, so I think I'll pick this up later after... after the meds kick in.

Farewell and God Bless