Trash Bloomberg says...

"I want to make clear we will not tolerate bias or backlash against Pakistani or Muslim New Yorkers."

Nor Nazis, Zombies, the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man, or any other imaginary thing!

"Bomb Scare"? "Attempt"?

NO!!! It was a COMPLETED BOMBING.

He MADE THE BOMB.

He PLACED IT AT HIS CHOSEN TARGET.

He SET IT OFF.

He GOT AWAY UNSOUGHT.

The criminal did EVERYTHING HE WANTED TO DO.

If he had bought his ticket a month earlier for the date of the bombing, or paid with a credit card, he'd have been in Dubai.

This bombing was a complete success. NO ACTION OF THE BOMBER WAS PREVENTED.

Sure, if the bomb had been constructed differently, lots of people would have died. This is not a stupid criminal. This is an educated, competent man, he could easily have made a better bomb. He could have easily escaped.

We ASSUME he meant it to go off. Why isn't it just practice?

Hint- today's lessons:

"Wah, Sharif! The Infidels are so eager to show their fear of the True Faith, and to turn our Jihad to domestic political advantage, that they hunt an innocent man, one of their own!

"And their Zionist pig Mayor accuses his own political enemies, without any evidence at all! They are so ripe for civil war, they will do anything to blame their own people, the ones who are our enemies, for doing what we actually do!

And when our Shaheed Brother brings himself to their notice, they apologise to US.

But we have "learned" some things. When we plant the real bombs, make the escape arrangements early, and use credit cards.

Don't buy cars that have been in dealer inventory recently. Use fake names when buying them. Get tinted windows, and put an old blanket over the bomb. Stupid brown people that we are, we could never figure those out!

And plant the real bomb where there will be lots of white infidels around, and security cameras.

Contessa Brewer will wet herself when we shoot up the Harlem schoolyard wearing Klan robes!

Allah is great!"

What Religion is your Caliber?

So, The Smallest Minority suggests thatcalbers are religiously connected. Meme!

My suggestions:

577 Snider is the Torah. Direct descendant of the Brown Bess, (begotten by the Queen Anne, begotten by the dog lock, begotten by the hackbut of Cromwell and Drake (the original Commandment) and out of the .577 Enfield by the Baker and Brunswick.

45-70 is the old testament, but in translation.

8mm Lebel is New Testament, Catholic.

30-06 is Jonathan Edwards'Pilgrim Congregational.

.30 carbine is Quaker.

.303 is Church of England (Blackpowder is the Catholic- burning one, cordite is the one with all the missionaries and the stopping suttee CofE).

Obviously 11mm Mauser id Old Lutheran, 8mm is Reformed.

30-30 is Baptist.

.223 is Methodist.

.243 and .270? Presbyterian.

.22 short? Amish.

22lr? Unitarian, because of the universality.

That leaves 30-40...

And courtesy of commenters:

Phil Wong said...

Gotta pitch in:

7.62X54 - Eastern(Russian) Orthodox

7.5 Swiss - Calvinist

7mmSTW - Mormonism("Western" and made-up ;^) )

6.5X55 Swede - Lutheranism(Uppsala Synod)

6.5 & 7.7 Arisaka - Shintoism

30-40 Krag - Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod(i.e. Norwegian-American)

7.62X39 - Atheist(i.e. Commie)

5.45X39 - Agnostic(i.e. "Atheism-Lite")

Still pondering who's got the temerity to claim .300WM and .50BMG...

Davidwhitewolf said...

.30-40 Krag would be the Church of Norway variant of Lutheran, I'd think.

Also, I'd argue for 7mm Mauser as German Catholic.

Geodkyt said...

Ah, but there's a few good ones missing. . .

7.5mm Swiss -- Zwinglianism

7.92 Kurtz -- Church of Christ

7.62x54mmR Russian -- Islam (Still in front-line, widespread international service with few changes)

7.62x39mm M43 -- Sunni Islam of the Caliphate to present

5.45x39mm -- Nation of Islam

7.62x45mm Czech -- Bahai

4.7mm Caseless -- Scientology

.30-40 Krag -- Conforming Puritans

Anonymous said...

.50 BMG?

How about Televangelist Christian? Big, in your face, expensively produced variation of an old-school message, and effective at long range.

.338 Lapua Mag would be the modern radio equivalent, produced for similar effect at lower cost.

Newbius

Anonymous Stretch said...

50BMG is Old Norse.
The Hammer of Thor.
The bringer of Ragnarök.

Keep them coming. I'll do a provisionalk list next week.

I love some of the explanations, esp. Islam and Mormonism! There has to be a reason beyond "The caliber and the religion come from the same place."

Goldman Sachs, A Few Good Thieves...

Via Tim Iacono (formerly themessthatgreenspanmade), a hilarious piece by The Baseline Scenario! You have to imagine Jack Nicholson in a gorgeous dark suit:

“You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth. Son, we live in a country with an investment gap. And that gap needs to be filled by men with money.

Who’s gonna do it?

You?

You, Mr. Middle Class Consumer?

Goldman Sachs has a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Lehman and you curse derivatives. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what we know: that Lehman’s death, while tragic, probably saved the financial system. And that Goldman’s existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves pension funds. You don’t want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want us to fill that investment gap. You need us to fill that gap.

“We use words like credit default swaps, collateralized debt obligation, and securitization… We use these words as the backbone of a life spent investing in something. You use ‘em as a punchline. We have neither the time nor the inclination to explain ourselves to a commoner who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very credit we provide, and then questions the manner in which we provide it! We’d rather you just said thank you and paid your taxes on time. Otherwise, we suggest you get an account and start trading. Either way, we don’t give a damn what you think you’re entitled to!”:

Again With The Hilarious Day Wife...

DW(preparing to leave for the day): "You won't have to put up with me much longer."

Staghounds: "You sound like you're trying to get sympathy from your children before they put you in the old people's place"

"Listen, that might not be so bad for a little while. Get a book to read..."

"And they are all old, you could take them if they tried to cause trouble."

"They would be my b*tches. I'd have all the Ensure I wanted."



But later, she topped that-

Staghounds: "I think I'm going to take up drinking."

DW: "It doesn't help that much."

HELLER Decision Causes Crime...

Yes, because before then D. C. was so safe. And I'm sure he will tell his boss "I was thinking, so glad I don't have a gun while I was rolling around on the pavement wondering if this breath was my last!"

And I Thought It Just FELT Like The Earth Moved...

"Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes," which brings up two questions:

How much are we paying these Imams to make their religion look stupid?

Why isn't there a maintenance 6.7 Richter vibration at 19 Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau?

I Hope My Neighbours Like Them Some

Veronicas!

And if that's not eighties enough, there's this.

But the new material is good stuff, particularly this.

The Poor Taliban, They Kidnapped Jack Bauer!

Oops!

Stop Press Tax Idea!!!!

As I said in my last post, I don't mind paying my Federal taxes. One thing I do to help with that is assign some specific purchase to my payment.

And a response from the multitalented and clever, yet charmingly quirky Nancy-"You can buy your own Marine?"- got me thinking.

You know that stupid "Preidential Campaign Fund" check off thing?

We ought to be able to designate where all, or a part, of our taxes go!

It would be simple, set up a list if a thousand or so departments, categories, and that sort of thing. Just fill in the code if you want to specify that your taxes go to Head Start, or the Lawrence Welk Birthplace, have at it! You could specify portions, and even Departments- 25% to the Transportation Department, 20% to Interior, 5% to the Fulbright Scholarship program.

And it has to go where it's designated.

What fun!

Undesignated money goes into the general fund just as it does now.

Just Paid My Federal Income Taxes...

I figure I bought about a quarter of one of these.

Best bargain on the face of the earth.

RACIST New York Times!!!!

Alright, I would like to read a year's worth of the Dalai Lama's personal emails, or check the site visit log for India's Defence Minister.

But my favourite part of this article about a Beijing operated data spy operation has to be the blatant and totally hilarious racism:

one chink in computer security can leave many nations exposed.

True that, as they say. But this ignores other risks.

What if there are crackers in the keyboard?

Feel free to write your own.

UPDATE! It took them ten minutes to scrub the article, replacing "chink" with "gap"- and leaving one for that fourth letter.

(Fifty commenters failed to notice the racist slur. Good example, lefties!)



Tam made this screencap, thanks!



And it's already cited in science, India, and China articles all over the web. Good luck putting all those feathers back, you liars.

I don't like the insult.

I more don't like the double standard about insults, if (name of conservative, business leader, entertainer, or Republican) had said this the NYT would explode with righteous wrath. Self righteous, that is.

"Mr. Imus's slur was the kind of unalloyed racial insult that might not have passed muster on a low-watt AM station in the Jim Crow South."

I most don't like the memory holing of the word. When I went to journo classes, they always told us that the first duty was to truth. That's what makes trained journalists different, isn't it? Absolute commitment to truth?

The Noon(an) Siren..

Overheard at the bait shop...

"Hey, Bob! You look like you seen a ghost!"

"May as well have, but I swear this is true!

I was goin' down the river Saturday lunchtime, right there where it's a half a mile wide. Thinking about that new spot where I almost caught that big old bass last week. All of a sudden, up under the bluff, I heard a bunch of barking dogs, right ahead of me. As I come around this point, I seen them- two of them, big old hounds, standing on a rock ledge right under the water.

And on the rocks right near them was a coyote! It was growling and snarling at the dogs, but they couldn't get to him. They was trying, though- one of them swum around the rocks trying to climb up from behind, I thought the coyote was going to jump on his head and drown him!

And then come the part you won't believe! Down the cliff, climbing hand over hand and sliding when she could, come the prettiest girl I've seen in a long time! She was dressed in tall riding boots and she had a pistol on her hip, and she was trying to get to those dogs and help them catch that coyote!

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Mr. Coyote saw that girl, and me, and glanced up like he figured there would be a helicopter after him next. So he give us all a dirty look and slipped up the rocks like a puff of smoke, there wasn't anything behind him but a trail of river water.

But that left the girl and the dogs stuck on the river. She might have been able to climb out, but the dogs wouldn't have and it was too cold for them to swim far enough to where they could get out on their own.

About then, that girl seen me. And she started waving for me to come in, just like one of them Si-reens form the old mythology times!

Well of course I had to try, and so I run the boat up close enough to Peisinoe that she could lift the dogs and herself in. She told me that a whole bunch of dogs and people were hunting the coyote, and she had a horse up on the top of the bluff.

One of them dogs must have rode in a boat before, he just stood up front with a big old smile on his face!

I carried them down a bit past the bluffs where they could scramble onto the bank, and up they went."


"Bob, you need to stick to them old stories of yours about six foot catfish. Because ain't nobody going to believe that one."

(N.B., I never actually spoke to the fisherman, but the events happened in my presence as described. These hounds are very willing to face water, caught one in a pond two weeks ago. Perhaps next season they will have to copy the French and carry a boat along.)

My Day Wife Is A Stitch...

We already know that my fellow prosecutor is cold as a glacier.

But funny, too. Today we learned that one of our defendants had been shot by persons "unknown" to him. The bullets threaded their way between all vital organs, major arteries, significant blood vessels, and all bones. Treated and released, despite three through and through torso and neck hits.

Upon learning of these events, her comment?

"You just can't kill these mopes".

It appears that as well as being very F. F. V., she is also from 1930.

"Healthcare Will Save Money" Lie...

As far as I know, every time, every where, under every circumstance, health care costs of any group have grossly exceeded all estimates or projections.

ALWAYS.

States, cities, companies, armies, nations, all of them. Throughout the whole history of human endeavor.

It's like night follows day.

I defy the sellers of this slavery to point to a single example of a group health care cost projection that has not been waaaaay too low.

But we will be different!

They are just lying to us now.

The Four Rules in the Hunting Field...

The horse says:

“What are you doing back there, hounds are coming this way!”




“Uh oh…”





“I don’t want to look. Tell me when it’s over…”





Bonus, someone practices her
Four Rules...

Good Defence Lawyering...

Sometimes it happens. Had a theft case the other day, a bag containing an iPod, camera, and telephone was stolen.

Defendant plead guilty.

It was a restitution hearing. The victim had receipts for each item.

Instead of calling the victim an extortionist, which is what they usually do, this lawyer went on line. He looked up each item (or their equivalent) and found the current retail prices, which were less than the prices a year ago.

Everyone was happy. Not for long, the defendant won't pay $300 any more than he would have paid $600.

But it was nice to see a defence lawyer act as if he was interested in a victim being recompensed fairly.

Day of the Lucky Coyotes…

(If you click on the pictures, you will get a full size version with much more detail.)

Day of the Lucky Coyotes…

Bifixtural again. First with the OFH, plenty of pylons.




Hounds were drawing, and we saw this fellow cross the road away:





Hard to see, aren’t they? In the top swathe of stubble in the the plough, half way between the cedar tree and the end of the little covert.



His horoscope was in, they decided to keep drawing in another direction.

Later in the day we saw and holloaed on the chicken bandit depicted below, and again he was rejected for a more likely prospect who failed to deliver.





In the "A" of the pylon-





I did manage to get in trouble. I was trying to get off the road and out of the way, but it looked like I was trying to get ON the road and IN the way. Earned a good stout Hold Hard, and rightly so.

And it was end of day at the OFH. They very generously invited me to their end of season do, and it was lovely.



Quite another time like the dinner after the Equipage de Ph., it is such a pleasure to see a happy family.


Then up to the Home Hunt, where we saw the following series of events. As you look at the first picture, hounds are drawing about a quarter mile in front of my position, far out of sight, on the way home and smelling nothing.




Then, hello, from behind those round bales...




Yes, a big old coyote, bold as brass, crossing the field right in front of us.



He wasn’t “hunted”, but I believe he had received our attentions at another time.



He was definitely clearing the area, stopping regularly to listen to what might be going on behind him.



Eight minutes later, hounds came along and got on board.



Four in front…




You can see how spread out they became, and how quickly.





Unfortunately it was toward the end of the day, so he was given best.




And end of day again.

Hero Rats! Yes, Rats Saving Lives By Detecting Mines...

For serious. "We watched as the rats ran along wires between two handlers. When they smell a landmine, they stop, sniff the ground and begin to dig. This signal lets the Apopo staff know they have found a mine or some other explosive, which can then be removed.

Rats, according to Apopo, are much faster than men using metal detectors and are not distracted by metal contaminants. They are much cheaper to maintain than dogs and are easily passed between different handlers.

And they can be trained for other sensing tasks, too! "Apopo is already running trials in Tanzania using the rats to detect tuberculosis in the saliva of sick patients.

The rats can process as many samples in a matter of minutes as a lab technician can in a day. The rats have even detected TB in samples that had been missed by conventional tests. "

Warning, video of genius search process using big honkin' rat will disrupt your productivity today:



Here's Apopo's web site.

Our Congress are Straight Up Black Liquor Thieves...

It's only six billion dollars or so in estimates, so we can look for about fifteen billion in fact. But you and I are about to buy some paper companies. We are going to do it the government way, though- we will pay the full value and then some, but we won't actually own the companies.

The thing I like about the article is that everyone pretends that they are surprised, that these are "unintended consequences".

Riiiiight.

Some very clever, highly educated, well trained, and well paid people imagined, designed, and sold this profoundly complex "loophole" for their own direct benefit. More than half the Senate just voted, very specifically and publicly, to keep it going.

There are no unintended consequences here, there is no such thing as "government waste".

And MANY THOUSANDS of programs identical in principle.

A tax "loophole" is made to exactly fit someone with its blueprint.

CUI PEDICARE BONO.

A Vocal Horn Couree...

This is sort of an update for another post, but I was just sent this lovely vocal interpretation of a St. Hubert horn blowing, with lovely pictures. Merci, Cecile!

Kings and Queens have the best nicknames, too...

They really do. Sancho the populator? Helen the Tough?

We should use them more today. We could even switch them out with moods.

Health Care Summit, Earmarks, and Pork...

Wouldn't it be nice if someone at the health care summit suggested that the conference bill contain NO earmarks, pork, or other overt corruption? After all there's plenty of patronage and assistance to friends in all this new Federal control, can't they just be satisfied with that?

Stupid (and hilarious) Defence Lawyers...

It often happens that defence lawyers fail to read the files they scream so loudly to get in discovery. When that happens, sometimes there are amusing surprises.

This one is a bit gross.

Trying an armed robbery. Two masked criminals with rifles robbed a couple in an hotel, taking wallets and cell telephones. They then barreled across town, using the stolen telephones, and robbed two cheerleaders coming out of a restaurant, escaping in a car being driven by a third loser. Police pursue, getaway ride wrecks, driver runs one way, passengers run another. Sedan full of stolen goods, masks, rifles, etc. Police catch passengers in flight. A few blocks away, breathless man flags down taxi as police spot and stop him. Police arrest cab hailer based on his proximity and panting. That's all we have on the driver- except that he is carrying the title to the sedan concealed- on which his mother, the recent buyer, has endorsed her name.

So here we are at trial. All three defence lawyers are, um difficult. Bear in mind that the reports, of which I’ve given them copies, tell in detail about how the car title was discovered. I had read that description.

I put the jail admitting officer on. “ When you searched him, what if anything did you find on this defendant?”

“I found a car title…”

“OBJECTION! Lack of foundation! Best evidence rule! Failure to authenticate!!!!”

Very well…

“Have you brought the thing you found to court today?”

”I have. (Holds up car title in clear plastic evidence bag.)”

“Your honor, could I have this marked as an exhibit…”

“OBJECTION! OBJECTION! OBJECTION! We haven’t seen it!” True enough, I had offered them the chance several times and they expressed disinterest. So I held out the bagged title. “Take it out of the bag”, one commands.

“I’ll let you do that if you like, it’s pretty ragged and hard to read. I might tear it or something, you know how clumsy I am.”

So lawyer one pulls the document out of the bag, fondles it, peers closely at it, and passes it to two, who does the same, then three follows. Back down the line, where lawyer onr holds it out to me. "Do put it back in the bag if you please", says I, and he did. I didn't take it, but left it lying on the defence table.


“Now, Mr. Witness, where did you find this car title?”

“On the defendant Smith.”

“How? Because the police didn’t find it when they searched him.”

"We do a more thorough search."

"Explain that for us, please."

“Well, first we have them take off all their clothes, and we go through all the clothes and pockets."

"So it was in his clothes?"

"No. After that, we have them turn around and bend over. I could just see the corner sticking out from between...”

Lawyers, read that file!

Ice storm and temperature line...

On the way to hunt the other day, I snapped this picture which well illustrates the temperature line half way up this mountain near my house. It intrigues me that there is substantially different weather at two points only a couple of rods away from each other.

No wonder scent is such a mystery.

The Senior Person In My Life...

I've been waiting to stumble on something not pleasant about my dam's death, other than practical things, and I found one.

In court, actually- at a hearing on a State child. This boy, born in public housing, had truly horrid parents and was protected from them by state custody when he was very small, like four.

He'd bounced around as they do- orphanages, group homes, foster placements, a little delinquency. Every change had to be court approved, by this same judge. Also, as with every child it commits, the court had reviews every six months or so to see how he was doing.

He had just turned eighteen, and this was his last review. The judge told him he was no longer in state custody as of his birthday next week, chatted with him about his prospects, and wished him luck.

As he got up to leave, he started to cry. Really cry, those hitching sobs of bereavement. The judge asked him what was wrong- his life was just beginning, he never had to come back to account for anything. He was free now. For the first time , he owned himself. What was wrong?

"But judge- now there won't be anybody who's known me all my life."

Mi casa su casa, Demetrius.

It's strange that I can remember when I first met everyone who is still in my own life. I'm senior to everyone I know.

(Not the child's real name of course.)

Something funny tomorrow.

Hope Round, Dana Sylvester, and I...

Hope Round, Dana Sylvester, and I are quite the strange alliance. But we all made the

papers! Fortunately for the news organisations' stockholders and readers, their action was the visual one and mine verbal.

Just in case one of them self googles and wants to see what I did last night to embarrass the AKC, here it is.

Thank you, Amber Sutherland, Kate Sheehy, and the New York Post!

Dramatic Checkout Picture...

No more dog show nonsense, something lovely instead. I thought I'd posted it back when Tam brought up the subject. Here's my nominee for the most dramatic checkout picture ever, Copley's "Death of Major Pierson". Click on the picture for full screen size:

Like Pretty Girls...

or rather, the parents of pretty girls,





kill ugly girls' chances.

I was right about my own special reason to hate PETA.

Horse Killers Are Welcome at Westminster- Go, AKC...

So, ScienceGirl told me that the winner of the non sporting group at the Westminster dog show this year was a French Bulldog.

Not that I care, although they are funny- they look as though they just saw a mirror.

But the second half of the information made ME look like a French Bulldog!

Its owner is Marion Hulick.

Yes, horse killer and thief Marion Hulick.

Suspended for life by the AHSA Marion Hulick.

(Yes, its the same Marion Hulick, suspended for life might not mean so much.)


It seems that the AKC is interested in dogs only- consilience isn't in its lexicon. I suppose as long as she didn't do anything to dogs, the rest of her life is no concern of the Kennel Club's.

I'm not surprised, it took the AHSA a looooong time and a big fight before they were driven to sort of suspend child porn pervert Jonathan Soresi ...

I expect to get a lot of noise about this, so here is my point. Anyone in the horse show, or dog show, or art, or (name of leisure profession) knows that there is plenty of very sharp practice going on. All the various guilds talk about policing themselves and trying to enhance or protect the integrity of their markets. Oh, sorry, I meant sports.

It surprises me not a bit that Mrs. Hulick is still showing dogs. The AKC is so far disconnected from ordinary people that it will be amazed that there is any notice taken at all. That's why I posted the ten pages of Chronicle posts, showing how the AHSA couldn't comprehend that people were disturbed that a child porn convict was at the horse shows.

It's not as though Mrs. Hulick wanted to play football, we know how the AKC feels about that. They have told us that the NFL has "a moral obligation to investigate and punish... players who may have knowledge of, or who may be involved in, these atrocious acts of animal cruelty."

In fact, "This activity is anathema to everything the American Kennel Club stands for, and the millions of AKC registrants and competitors, many of whom have been NFL fans, unilaterally condemn it and those who perpetrated it.

It is common for state laws to recommend the immediate suspension of a teacher when charged with certain crimes. To acknowledge the severity of Mr. Vick’s charges, we urge his immediate suspension."

Big talk, with Mrs. Hulick smiling and nodding at ringside. No, hold hard- it's only dog killing football players who should be deprived of their livelihoods.

Horse killing thief dog owners' amusements shouldn't be trifled with.

(Don't get me wrong, I hold no brief for Mr. Vick. Nor am I a Petan- owning, using, eating, and killing animals are no problem for me. Anyone who reads this blog- all sixteen of you- know that lots of people would hang the three of us to the same tree.)

But I don't assert one rule and follow another. The standards that put Mr. Vick beyond redemption in the eyes of the AKC ought to apply to its own members too.


If I were a reporter, I'd find the show superintendent, put a microphone and camera on him, and ask straight up, "Look over there- she's a woman who killed horses for insurance fraud. There she sits, an exhibitor here. Is that alright with the AKC, or are you going to tell her to leave?"

COMMENTS- Fifty comments! A record for me by a looooong way.

They quickly degenerated into pro/con rants about the handler of this dog. I've published everything so far, because I thought the craziness might be illuminating to non dog show people like me.

As one commenter said, they really inspire people to show dogs.

But from now on, I'll delete comments that are off topic to the original post, which was about Marion Hulick, Michael Vick, and the AKC's choices.

Showing A Cat...

Two good days hunting. Saturday, one funny thing was "the Sorority". I was out with the O. F. H. Saturday. It fell out that one of their field, away at University, brought two of her friends home for a week end visit. Neither had hunted before.

All three of these pretty twenty year olds were planning to ride in the truck of another OFH hunter, also a twenty year old student at a different University and a man.

So we are getting ready to go, and A., who will be in the (6 seater) truck I am going in, says to him, "Would you all like to ride with us?"

The second most foolish question I have ever heard in the hunting field. He (and I, and everyone else) looked at her like she had suddenly been transformed into a giant hen, or something.

We all are crazy, but I did not think anyone was that crazy.

Anyway, we had a good day. Hounds ran and ran, horses galloped, there was swearing and flyung mud, and hounds caught a coyote.

Small world, one of the visitors was one degree of separation away from me through a non hunting connection!

After it was all over, I asked her if they were coming back tomorrow, and she said "YES!" with a fierce smile.

The local one, who of course hunts all the time, said "No, we have to go back to school."

"No we don't."

I was careful to explain that it took me longer to get there to hunt than it would take her from her dorm, and I managed it every week.

Show a cat the way to the dairy...

Valentine's Day Again..

This was a forward to me, captioned "Let's see how YOU like it!

"Spit the pips out of that, you little #$%^&?"

We Can All Quit Blogging Now...

Thanks to this.

A Great Liberal Speaks...

One of the icons of American lefty liberalism is John Kenneth Galbraith.

He's got it all- Red diaper baby, never held a job or met a payroll outside of government or academia, disciple of Keynes, worked for FDR and Saint Jack. No fortunate northeastern background, but his wife had enough for both of them.

I'd never heard his comment after the conquest of Goa. (Not one of the hugest military campaigns ever, it's true, and Galbraith's friends won.)

"The casualties were minimum. I am in favour of all wars being like the war between India and Portugal -- peaceful and quickly over!"

I wonder if the sixty-five dead Indians missed their next breaths. Or if their families considered their deaths "peaceful". And the crippled wounded, are their wheelchair or blind futures "minimum"?

This just gripes the #$%^& out of me, no matter who does it.

Gay Soldier Transition Program...

So. LabRat's great post on gay soldiers got me thinking. The military services, like every other big government program. never make a big change without announcements and creating transition teams...



"Today the President ordered the armed services to immediately cease any and all special regulatory or UCMJ recognition of homosexuality. As Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I appear before you today to discuss the implementation of this policy.

First, he which hath no stomach to this fight, let him depart; his passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us.

Any service member who wants to quit because of this change may apply within the next thirty days. He will be released as soon as service convenience permits it. He will receive a special hardship discharge that notes "unable to serve alongside gay Americans" as the reason for his separation.

But we know that the few remaining service members who do not run from this change will wonder how to face it.

I can best discuss implementation of the change within the services by quoting- it is a day for quotes, isn't it?- Fred Reed on the two greatest practical problems.

"Soldiers don't want a sergeant who they know is gay as an Easter bonnet, who has the power to make life miserable, leering at them if the towel drops."

That one is easy. Our policies remain exactly the same about unfit or criminal commanders as they were last week. Oppression by superiors of those under their command will never be tolerated. There is plenty of room in the E-1 ranks, Leavenworth, and Portsmouth for those who misuse their authority.

"Men do not like being eyed by other men in the barracks and showers."

We accept that this problem exists, and that it is one for which many soldiers are unprepared. The eye-up terror will force some from our ranks.

For those who dare to confront it, help will be available.

We recognise the value of experience. For example, we try to use previously wounded veterans to help transition wounded soldiers from hospital bed to their futures.

the President has authorised the direct commission of a new Lieutenant- General.
This officer has a great deal of experience with this specific problem, and already has effective policies in place for dealing with it. Our newest General will command a special unit tasked to help soldiers face this new challenge. This unit will be recruited from those who have already successfully faced, and triumphed over, the truly destructive experience of unwanted sexual advance. Many of the new members of this command are already familiar to soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines. We hope that familiarity, like the previous service of volunteer veteran counselors at VA hospitals, will make it easier for our service members to manage this, their newest challenge.

I'd like you to meet the United States Army's newest General Officer.



And here is a list of potential recruits with the sort of qualifications and experience to handle this program.

The Danish Resistance Museum...

While in Copenhagen, I visited the Danish Resistance Museum. Denmark had an interesting path under the Nazi Germans.

First, it wasn't officially an enemy country. Unlike Poland or the Netherlands, it wasn't invaded and conquered. The Germans rolled in and the small Danish army and more significant navy couldn't do much- though there was some fighting. The Germans announced that they had no desire to conquer Denmark, just to pass through on their way to Norway.

So the deal was that Denmark remained sovereign and neutral in the war. The Germans just occupied the country and enforced their idea of neutrality.

That pretty much worked for a while. Up until Stalingrad, the Germans looked like winners and in any case what could the Danes do? They were an agricultural country, the Germans bought everything available, and did nothing that interfered with ordinary Danes.

Eventually things changed. The Germans demanded more, the Danes got stroppy, and the occupation took hold.

The most famous bit of Danish resistance had to do with Jewish Danes. Everyone knows the untrue but lovely story of King Christian and the yellow star, and that the Danes deported their Jews to Sweden instead of letting the Germans have them. Brave, and the Danes had specific forewarning, few Jews, local administration in place, and a permeable neutral border.

Eventually the resistance became significant. But Copenhagen- unlike Lyon, or Karbala today- never became a place where an occupation soldier was unable to walk around alone in reasonable safety.

The Museum is small, but does a good job of covering all aspects of this history. It doesn't shy away from the accommodation era, or the divisions within Denmark during the occupation. The one thing that seems entirely absent is anything about the King's role during the war.

A couple of things struck my gun nut/second amendment sides.

If you are going to resist, and be in a position where you have to shoot your way out of a raid, reliability matters!






That malfunction led to the capture of the pistol's user.

The museum has an exhibition of home made weapons- here's a Sten gun:





Gun banners take note.



Even an improvised torpedo!





And, as usual in museums these days,

The REAL reason I hate PETA...

Today, I realised the real reason I hate Peta.

Jealousy.

Some other man thought PETA up. I !@#$%^ hate him. Here's the deal:

1. Create tax free non profit quango. Its mission? Help cuddly, furry animals.

2. Collect money from old ladies and crazy people who love cuddly, furry animals.

3. Come up with promotions and stunts that overtly intend to help cuddly, furry animals, but which in fact by their very enunciation make their messages ridiculous to all but those already committed to the cause.

"Let's call fish "sea kittens!"

"Pity Poor Punxsatawney Phil, waked up at seven one day a year!"

4. Come up with more promotions and stunts that will also convert no one, but which make use of eager participation by gorgeous, slightly dim, and easily led women.

Naked participation.

5. (Thank you Bill!) Hire your friends to run animal shelters. They don't have to be competent.

6.Pay self well. Travel often. Spend lots of time with gorgeous, slightly dim, and easily led women who love cuddly, furry animals, deeply admire your dedication thereto, and want ever so much to help you.

7. Repeat ad infinitum.

8. Die happy, having neither improved the lot of any animal nor converted not a single person who is not a gorgeous, slightly dim, and easily led woman to the love of cuddly, furry animals.

Serious, serious, jealousy inspired hate.

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall...

After today's performance I do not expect a box of those luscious pears from the BGDthis Christmas!

Our Old Beaten Down World...

The other day I drove through Huntsville, Alabama. Beside the freeway is the Space and Rocket Center, and I could easily see the Saturn V, other earlier rockets, and Space Shuttle on display there.

I thought, "It's like driving past the Victoria."

We think of our civilisation as old and beat down sometimes. But if we survive, a thousand years from now those things will be like Gutenberg's first printing press, Leeuwenhoek's microscope, or Euclid's pen. Art, technology, desire, purity, compromise, all the things that make us us.

Think about it- when you start naming people who lived more than five centuries ago, who are they? Explorers- mathematicians, travelers, artists.

From the century we were born in, Goddard might be the remembered name when Obama and Hitler are obscure Wikipedia entries.

We are just getting started.

My Lobotomy...

In the book store, I went to the Psychology section to find a couple of books you might like, and some of the other titles caught my eye.

I liked "My Lobotomy" the best. It was a fairly thin book, and a glance through it didn't show any very long words...

And I Miss Feeling Like I Might Feel Like This...

Even if it was only for just a moment...

It's TELLTHEMDAY!

Love child of Postsecret and Talk Like A Pirate day.

Talk it up!

Shiny and new no longer...

When I drove this over to get a haircut the other day, my hairdresser looked at it and said, "Oooh, that's a chick magnet".



I told her not for long...

Pond Day Wit Stag Hounds in France...

Up early for the first staghunting day in France.


They use
boneless hounds.



Hounds moved off and drew, as my companions talked at the rendezvous I walked in towards the draw- had a feeling the stag might head my way. And, pow! Here he came- and another! And two more! Four strong spring stags- no hinds, which was strange to me. Perhaps the old man had run them off, and they had a little herd of their own.
I swear, there were stags there just before the camera clicked...

Hounds settled on one, and were off. This day set a pattern, R. was driving and made the decisions about where to go. To start with,
into the headlight of another car at the meet. Fortunately an old one- put a note and some euros on the windshield, and off!

We waited a long time on a hill over a marsh, hearing nothing. This pack hunts a somewhat less manicured part of the forest, on more vertical ground. These pictures show examples, it is very like the terrain at home.
Then a bunch of hunting cars came by, so we followed.

Into the main street of a little village!


All the cars were parked and their occupants out, so out we ran- to see…



That’s right, a stag and half the pack in a garden pond!

Round and round they went, the hounds tried to get to the stag but he evaded them every time. The banks were too steep for him to get out easily, and the hounds who didn’t care to swim kept running around the bank.

I particularly liked this one volunteer supervisor-



The stag did not yet seem tired, more mystified than anything to my anthromorphic eye.



“Why are you people pestering me? Go away, I have stag responsibilities to perform!”

But of course eventually he would have become exhausted.

The staff did the right thing…




Five minutes law and hounds were put back on. Is it just me, or does the huntsman make one want to send the army to Brussels?


Well, hound- only ONE managed to hold the line! It may have been intended not to keep hunting this stag, I don’t know. But if they meant to, it was an interesting display of the vagaries of scent.


And he got away clean. Well, as clean as he could get in a garden pond...

Who'd Be A Sailor?

From "The Arethusa", by Frederick Chamier:

In such moments there are thoughts which steal over us and win us from ourselves; and those who have braved longest the perils of a sailor's life, feel most exquisitely the glory of the calm night, when the stars are reflected in the vast deep, and when the sea "takes the moods, and wears the colours of her mistress—the sky."

He who first perils his existence on this mighty and immense mass of waters experiences a solemn feeling of awe, of wonder —nay, often-times of fear. And yet, lost in the very magnificence of this image of eternity — this throne of the Invisible, man feels himself a prouder being, in the knowledge that the science of his fellow-creatures has taught him to explore its wondrous depths,—to steer uninjured by rocks or islands through its pathless desert, and to draw a higher and a better notion of the glory and divinity of his Maker by the never-ending wonders which are presented to him.

The poor in pocket and in mind, condemned from youth to age to toil, perhaps in the darkness of a mine, excavating the ore, and returning when oppressed with fatigue to the shed which serves him for shelter ; the mechanic, who from daylight to dark continues his labour in one city ; the husbandman, who ploughs the field and sows the seed, who reaps the harvest and who stacks the hay,— can never have that exalted notion of man, and of man's works, as he whose whole life is one scene of continued change ; who is associated today with the dark, sulky negro of the Gold Coast, —with the gay Frenchman to-morrow; who sees the pigmy race of Mexico or the giants of Patagonia,—much less can he form a just estimate of the power of the Divinity. The wonders of creation are to be seen in the ocean, and in the stupendous mountains of the Andes, or the still prouder Himalayas.

It is in sights like these that man is convinced of his own insignificance, and yet of his own power: it is when standing on the Andes, and seeing a city Like a speck, that he feels his vast inferiority. But he becomes conscious of the greatness of his intellect when he measures the heights above him with mathematical exactness, or looks for the moment — the well-calculated moment, when a comet shall return and be visible.

Oh the delight—the calm delight of pondering on such sublimity, supported by the still ocean! When the mind, in harmony with the scene, calmly surreys the greatness of the works of God.

Zombie Coyote Hounds From Beyond The Grave...

Even back in 1887, SoCal had zombies running around. According to Frederick Remington, that is...



Click on the picture to expand it to full, creepy size.

2009 Hunting Reflections Two...

Radios are wrong.

By radios, I do not mean the use of electronic devices to deal with emergencies like injuries or obstruction to roads. That makes perfect sense, might save lives, and it's wrong NOT to!

The problem is that no one I’ve yet seen sticks to that limit.

Very quickly, people start using them to guide hounds, staff or field in hunting.

“Huntsman, I just saw the quarry cross the triangle field toward the barn.”

“Whipper-in, go around to the bridge and wait there, I’m coming up the creek.”

“Field Master, we’re about to draw clockwise around the pond.”

Radios are wrong for lots of reasons. Certainly for members of the field. Much of the pleasure of a day with hounds is trying to figure out what’s going on. Radios eliminate that challenge. I can live with that hunting solo, because I don't have one shouting to me. I can take my own line and foul up if my mad skillz lead me to.

But lots of people are trapped beside one.


As to staff having radios. This is a bit more complicated. It's fair to say that the purpose of a whipper in is to get to where the huntsman needs him and do what the huntsman requires there, including transmitting information back. Radios make this MUCH easier for everyone concerned. At least right now they do. If you figure they are here to stay, radios aren't TOO terrible in this specific application.

But, radios discourage, if they don't prevent, learning about what hounds and game do. They get in the way of development and testing of initiative and game sense in staff. That has goods and bads.

Initiative and game sense are work, and decisions carry risk. A huntsman wants to give his hounds their best chance. A radio report of game at a particular location and moment is far better intelligence than a yelp out of a covert or a holloa from someone unknown at somewhere in that general direction. You can always decide what to do with the information from a radio, if you want to let hounds keep working rather than lifting them, you can.

More than a few huntsmen would far prefer that their whippers in never engage in any thought process of any kind. Or rather, a couple of huntsmen I've whipped in to have preferred that I specifically not do any thinking. With them, I often feared being in the same pasture as a decision. Because if I were wrong, look out... A radio protects everyone from that sort of problem.

Using a practical and useful tool depends in part on what your goal is.

The worst thing about radios is that they are cheating.

The whole point of hunting with hounds is for hounds to use their natural abilities following game, and us to use ours to try to keep up.

The game has distinct advantages. It’s his home territory. He can hear hounds from a lot father away than hounds an smell him. His best advantage is that he knows where he is going. That means that he can run the OODA loop, at least for a while.

Radios change it from a reasonably fair contest into a battue.

Many years ago, in the early days of electronic battlefield surveillance and night vision, I wrote a "hunting report of the future". In it, hounds were marked for overhead identification and r/c command and punishment. Game could be seen via infrared. The huntsman sat in a room with transmitters and receivers, while the field watched a display monitor and drank.


That hunt was technically possible for the services even then.

And as XKCD has pointed out, We live in a world where actual fleets of robot assassins patrol the skies. At some point there, we left the present and entered the future.

Using omniscient technology is just fine when it comes to killing jihadis or mapquesting the route to that new restaurant. But hunting is different, intentionally archaic and difficult.

We don't use motorcycles to run the marathon, and live concerts still sell out even though CD sound quality is far better.

If we just want to make dead animals, radio hunting is fine.

2009 Hunting Reflections One...

After a month of English and French hunting this year, what have you learned, Dorothy?

First, specifically about the deerhound packs in England.After three years of the two hound system: it’s a wreck. This stag season, one of the two hound system packs killed a record 30+ stags. When I heard people talking about the season, this number was often mentioned. Not great runs, not particular hounds' or stags' performances, but body count.

This carries out the sad prediction of these pages two years ago.

The first problem is that as R. said three years ago, “If we could do it with two hounds instead of forty, we would have been doing it that way for a loooong time.” Two hounds have an awful problem settling to and hunting one deer.

First, as I admit I have had impressed on me by the two hound system, scent is incredibly variable from place to place, weather to weather, animal to animal, and hound to hound. Most importantly, these all change constantly. When the particular scent of this deer at this moment in this spot appeals strongest to only a couple or two hounds, they are far more likely to be present if there are forty out than if there are only two.

When two hounds CAN hunt, they are slow. A full pack moves much more quickly. Hounds encourage one another, and pick up their fellows’ slack. They move at the speed of the most locked-on-target hound of forty, not of two.

The next problem is that two hounds just don’t provide the interest to followers. Or should I say to this follower. I like to see a pack work, to see that team of individuals work out that line. Especially if we know those hounds, their personalities, their natures, their arcs.

Imagine how stadia would empty if football were suddenly restricted to two man teams.

If nothing else, it’s awfully difficult to even see them!

Finally of course is the whole moral thing we talked about before. First we resisted, and they showed us how we could go along to get along. Then once we took that route, we had to try to make some sort of virtue out of the compromise.

Now we have decided to cooperate. At what point do we become collaborators with our, and the deer's, enemies? And when are we actually their allies?

But from now on I’ll call it the shootup system. No euphemisms, that is what it is.

There was a DOUBLE atomic bomb survivor?

TOKYO — Tsutomu Yamaguchi, the only person officially recognized as a survivor of both the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings at the end of World War II, has died at age 93.

Yamaguchi was in Hiroshima on a business trip for his shipbuilding company on Aug. 6, 1945, when a U.S. B-29 dropped an atomic bomb on the city. He suffered serious burns to his upper body and spent the night in the city.

He then returned to his hometown of Nagasaki, about 190 miles southwest, which suffered a second U.S. atomic bomb attack three days later.



The mayor of Nagasaki said "a precious storyteller has been lost,"...

And his story was, "Holy #$%^&*. I surrender already!"

The story goes on to say, "Japan is the only country to have suffered atomic bombs."

I prefer the verb "earned".

No Longer the Gayest Lurchers EVAR!!!1!!

A classic hunting day yesterday. Painful, made me reflect a bit.

Like the first one for these dogs, by invitation only.