You belong to the State

So do your children.

So obey, prole, or get ready for a SWAT raid.  Actually, getting ready for a SWAT raid is probably an additional felony.  But remember who the State is.  Even when it's not criminally corrupt.

The Categorical Imperative

Immanuel Kant's moral philosophy held that a Categorical Imperative was an unconditional requirement for all people, at all times.  It is both required and justified in and of itself.

Making Barack Obama's campaign buy ammo for Blackfork can only be described as a Categorical Imperative.  Get clicking.  Besides, "Obammunition"?  That's worth the click right there.  Go be moral.

UPDATE: Bad link fixed.

The Mad Minute

Back in the days when Her Majesty's (Victoria's, not EIIR) Army was stationed over one fifth of the Globe, the Lee Enfield rifle was introduced.  Unique for it's time, it had a ten round magazine (vs. the typical five), and the small professional army trained for the "Mad Minute": fifteen hits in a 12 inch target at 200 yards, in one minute.  In 1914, Sgt. Alfred Snoxall scored 38 hits in a minute.

Well, Enfield owners in the UK still meet up every year for a Mad Minute competition:



Bravo.

Note: when I lived in the UK, it was within earshot of this firing range at Bisley.

Vulgar

As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular.

- Oscar Wilde

An Illinois High School football star will be sitting out his senior year because he was so vulgar as to enlist.  You see, Boot Camp kept him from pre-season practice, and we Progressives know that Soldiers are not manly enough to play Football.

To get shot at by the Taliban, yes.  But Football is harder.  To carry 100 pounds of gear in the desert heat perhaps, but Football is harder.  We should be convinced, because the Ruling Class of Blue State Illinois said so.  Oooooh kaaaaay.

The lad clearly needs to be punished, as he was so vulgar as to shrug off all Progressive State attempts to save his soul.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,

The Progressive Era was explicitly about improving the "lower" classes, making them safe from their bad decisions.  Eugenics sought to make them safe from their bad sexual decisions; temperance and prohibition sought to keep them safe from Demon Rum.  Now progressives seek to keep the lower classes safe from the military.  I for one predict the same success rate this time around.

RUM, n. Generically, fiery liquors that produce madness in total abstainers.

- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Divtionary

The definition of getting old

Complaining about being stuck at cheerleader tryouts.

Heh.

Quote of the Day: Great Society edition

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair:

I happen to believe that you strip a man of his dignity and humanity when you treat him like an ignorant, incapable animal. He becomes a dangerous pet to be fed and housed, pandered and lied to, in order to gain his complacency for your act of cruel altruism.

It’s one thing to offer a kind helping hand to someone in need, it’s entirely another to create a separate, dysfunctional society consisting of a nothing more than a dependent, seething underclass that can no longer feed itself.

The only action our governments require of these people in return for their daily ration of abject humiliation and bureaucratic swill, is the shaky promise that they’ll refrain from rioting, looting and burning in John Q. Taxpayer’s prosperous backyard.

What "progressives" did to the African American population in particular is more cruel than the most sordid fantasies of the KKK.

Via Foseti

Richard Wagner - "Liebestod" from Tristan und Isolde

This is perhaps the most hauntingly lovely music ever written.  As Beethoven announced the beginning of the romantic era, this was its end - and the start of the modern era.

Wagner was a troublemaker, wanted by the Law for his early life (he was a revolutionary, back in the days before they were admired by governments).  He ran around on his wife, and on his mistresses.  He seduced the wives of his conductors.  They put up with it for this.

The story of Tristan and Isolde is very old, one of the Troubadour ballads from the High Middle Ages.  Tristan is a knight, sent to bring Isolde as a bride to King Mark.  Caught at sea in a storm, they drink a love potion, thinking it was a sea sickness cure, and fall madly in love with each other.  The love is doomed, and in Gottfried of Strassburg's twelfth century version, one of the travelers with them says, "Tristan, you have drunk your death."

Their doomed love is brought to life by Wagner in his opera, not least because of how he scored the work, and especially the finale here.  Liebestod means "Love's death", and it is the Romeo and Juliet simultaneous death scene.  Wagner revolutionized opera by his use of harmonic suspension, a repeated refusal to complete unfinished themes.  This refusal builds tension which is only released at the final, lyrical completion.  This particular scene is striking in how you hear the suspension from the very beginning of the video, and how it allows a very subdued final chord to be magnificent.  It takes a full six minutes to reach the "aha" moment where the theme resolves, which makes the resolution even more sweet.



This piece has a special meaning for me.  I visited Mom and Dad perhaps a year before his death.  They had season tickets to the Symphony, which performed this.  I'd never heard it before, and it led to a memorable chat with Dad about Gottfried von Strassburg, Schopenhauer, inflection points in music, and how they're all bound up in this music.  I sure miss those.

But it's more poignant, watching Mom as Isolde, today grieving over her dead Tristan.  Theirs was a towering love story, worthy of this music.  May I be so lucky as to be worthy of that.

(Image source)

I-20

Memorial Day 1969 saw us drop Dad off at JFK Airport.  He was a history professor, and was going to spend four months in Paris chasing the scholarly research that would prove to be his big career break.

Flying in those days was a big deal.  It was expensive - likely ten times as expensive as now, if you adjust for inflation.  People wore suits.  We drove him to New York City all the way from Maine so see him off.

Looking back, I remember the excitement.  I was 10 years old, and this was a big, big deal for me.  A big enough deal to stick clearly and sharply in my mind.  I knew that something important was happening.

Dad flew off on TWA, and the rest of us drove off to Ravenna, Ohio to spend the rest of the year.  Mom was finishing her degree at Kent State University, less than a year before the protests there ended in blood.  Dad would spend the summer in Paris, finding that as an American, his money was suddenly no good when Neil Armstrong set foot on the Moon.

It was the first time that the family was broken, and it stands out sharp and clear in my memory.  It was hard not having Dad with us, there in that little apartment in Ravenna.  In the last year, I read the letters I sent him - at least one or two a week, from 10 year old Borepatch - that he kept in that little apartment in Paris.  I read the letters he sent to Mom, about the loneliness that cut to his heart, and how he couldn't wait to get back with us.

The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree.

I'm at the wrong end of I-20.  Flying is much less expensive now - the planes are really nothing but flying buses these days - but because it's the hoi poloi instead of the Jet Set you have to check your dignity at the counter (please have $20 cash for handling charges).  And we're not landing on the moon any more, so I have to buy my own beer.

But I know what Dad felt.  I have email, and cell phone, and Skype.  I work for a danged videoconferencing company, so soon I'll have high-end corporate 1080p HD with the family.

But it's still 900 miles away, down that highway 20 ride.

Every time I turn that truck around
Right at the Georgia line
And I count the days
And the miles back home to you
On that Highway 20 ride

I find that I learn more about Dad, the older I get.  The apple didn't fall far from the tree, and I know what it meant to him to be torn from his family by the duties of the day.  I also know - and always knew - that we were the center of his world.

It was the pleasure of my life
And I cherished every time
And my whole world
It begins and ends with you
On that Highway 20 ride....

I think, I hope, that my kids know this, too.  The apple still doesn't fall far from the tree.

(Image source)

Overheard at the gun store

I'm thinking about doing Appleseed next weekend, and they recommend a standard web sling for your rifle.  I went in search of one, alas, to no avail.  But #2 Son has been dieing for an SKS since TOTWTYTR let him shoot his.

And so I wandered up to the counter.  The conversation was brief.

Me: Do you have a Mil Surp section?

Gun Story Guy: Is that a brand?

Me:

I quite frankly didn't know what to say, and so I missed my chance to snark or something.  But holy smokes, wow.

The name of the Gun Store shall remain classified.  This is so weird that it must be a one-off bad day sort of thing.  Maybe he didn't understand my Yankee Drawl. 

The irony is rich

It sure will be fun watching progressive's heads explode when their Lightbringer loses the election to some dude from Texas.

Sort of like that scene in Mars Attacks where cowboy yodeling makes the Martian's brains explode.  Awesome.

Reflections on our Political Class

From Theo.

Jason Aldean - Not Every Man Lives

Virtue comes from the Latin virtus, the manly traits.  As you would expect from a society that ground their enemies down until the ancient Mediterranean was their lake, the Romans had many of these manly traits that they valued.

Dignitas, personal pride.  Disciplina, fealty to their military oath.  Firmitas, tenacity.  Honestas, respectability.  Humanitas, an appreciation of learning and culture.  Industria, an ethic of hard work.  Severitas, self-control.

Perhaps most honored of these virtues was virtus itself: manliness, valor, courage.

These days we recognize these as universal values, seen in both sexes.  Many of my lady readers are people I would be proud to have armed and ready in a TEOTWAWKI situation.

By now, everyone has heard of Seal Team Six, and their sacrifice for us in Afghanistan.  In every way, they embodied the ancient Roman virtues listed here.  It is astonishing that this Republic can yet capture the loyalty and devotion of such men (and women).

Their dignitas, disciplina, firmitas, honestas, humanitas, industria, severitas, and virtu as they laid their sacrifice on the altar of our freedom are astonishing to behold.  Humbling.

In every sense of the word, these men lived.

Not all do.  By now everyone has heard of the hoodlums who are burning London.  In every way imaginable, they lack these virtues.  Ever single one.  In a serious way, they are not alive.  Living without honor, or respect, or dignity - by choice, as these creatures do - is to not live at all.

Rome ultimately failed from Bread and Circuses.  Too many took the easy path of shirking industria, and too few took the hard road of virtu.  And in the end, those few were too few as an invasion of barbarians extinguished the lamps for a millennium.  The invaders knew virtu, but knew nothing of humanitas - civilization.

May we learn from their loss, Britain's loss, and our loss.



Not Every Man Lives (Songwriters: Lee Brice, Billy Montana, Frank J. Myers)

Have you ever skipped a stone across the water?
Have you ever hitched a free ride on a train?
Have you ever climbed up on a water tower,
To write a name?

The truth is every man dies,
Not every man lives.

Have you ever loved someone that you would die for?
Have you ever walked too far out on a limb?
Have you ever chased a dream too high to reach for,
And pulled it in?

The truth is every man dies,
But not every man lives.

I wanna paint outside the lines,
Run the red lights in my mind,
Take everything one lifetime has to give.
I wanna stand inside the fire,
Walk blind-folded on a wire.
Every man dies,
But not every man lives.

Have you ever thought about how fast time passes?
Ever thought about what you would leave behind?
Ever stood up for something you believed in,
And drawn a line?

The truth is every man dies,
But not every man lives.

I wanna paint outside the lines,
Run the red lights in my mind,
Take everything one lifetime has to give.
I wanna stand inside a fire,
Walk blind-folded on a wire.

Every man dies,
But not every man lives.

I wanna stand inside a fire,
Walk blind-folded on a wire.

Every man dies,
But not every man lives.

Have you ever skipped a stone across the water?
Have you ever hitched a free ride on a train?

(Image source) (Image source)

The greatest song ever written

Toaster has it.  It's so full of Win it made me squee.

Well played, sir.  So very, very well played.

I'm such a tease

I'm busy/lazy/(fill in the blank), so here's something from a long time ago for your edification.  About 20 of you have been reading this long, but here's the teaser:

This is maybe the worst Microsoft video ever. Maybe. Microsoft's marketing videos are so astonishingly horrible, that this might not be the worse ever.

Yeah, there's video.  Plus a custom Clippy the Office Assistant.  If that isn't enough to make you click, my teasing skillz are weak.

The principle of the Conservation of Suck

It's almost like life is a balloon filled with suck.  You can squeeze some of the suck out of part of your life, but it just seems to go to a different part.

Oh well, mustn't grumble.  Stay calm, and carry on.

UPDATE 6 August 2012 22:25: Added to the Best Posts category based on the comments to this post.

The irony, she is thick

Well now:

TEHRAN: Iran urged Britain on Tuesday to show "restraint" in dealing with rioters, the state television website reported.

Foreign ministry spokesman Ramin Mehmanparast asked "the British government to prevent the use of violence by the police, and to engage in dialogue with the protesters and examine their demands in order to restore calm," the website said.

Translation: "Don't do what we do."

Via I Want A New Left.  You really should be following him.  If everyone on the Left were like him, I probably wouldn't blog much.

UPDATE 12 August 2011 19:24:  Via an anonymous commenter, this is required viewing.



Voice. 

Use yours.  Remember it's mostly governments that make enemies, not people.

Invisible

ASM826 introduces a couple folks who are very likely a lot like some people you know.  Who may be a lot like you.  But who are people whom the elite probably don't even see.

Invisible.  Or worse.



Good enough to hire not good enough to marry.

Me, I'd like to meet Buck père et fils.

ZOMG! The Groom's a Zombie!

And the Groomsmen can cut it up pretty well, too ...



Well done, gentlemen.

Via the indispensable Theo Spark.

Signs to repel rioters

 

Try looting here, and he'll treat you ruff ...

Col. Jeff Cooper's advice on the London riots

Via Foseti, we find this example of how Brave Sir Robin ran away:



It was posted at a site that had a very interesting analysis (pp. 202-203):

Observe, four unarmed, unarmored rioters confront eight cops armed and in full armor.  Some of the cops show fear.  Emboldened by this, a large horde abruptly materializes to support the four unarmed rioters.  Police rapidly become so non threatening, non confrontational, and non provocative that a cynic might think it looks remarkably as if they are running like rabbits. Compare and contrast with Jason Rodrigues’ account of two young men facing down a large gang with the threat of deadly force.

Jeff Cooper mused on riot control in his excellent 1998 book To Ride, Shoot Straight, And Speak The Truth:

It would seem desirable to devise a system which would make sure, first, that the riot would stop; and second, that only the leaders would feel the weight of social disapproval.

Let us consider such a means - the 22-caliber rimfire rifle.  This weapon, properly sighted and equipped with a noise suppressor, may be used with surgical delicacy to neutralize mob leaders without risk to other members of the group, without noise and with scant danger of death to the subject.  A low-velocity 22 bullet in the lung will not knock a man down, and in these days of modern antisepsis it will almost never kill him if he can get to a hospital in a reasonable time.  It will, however, absolutely terminate his interest in leading a riot.

Now watch that video again, and pick out the two or three leaders of the riot.  Ask what would happen to the rest if those leaders didn't lead.

Of course, this will never happen in Her Britannic Majesty's Scepter'd Isle.  That's why we don't call it "Great" anymore.