Me (to #2 Son): This is a maze of twisty passages, all alike.J. Random Guy at the airport is horning in on our Techno-Geekery. Wow.
Me: That's from what may be the oldest computer game.
The guy behind us: "ADVENT". That was an awesome game. We used to play it on the VAX.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Overheard on the Jetway
We're boarding our flight at DFW. The Jetway isn't your usual through-the-door-to-the-plane straight shot. It's surprisingly twisty and turny.
Memories
The setting: Flying from Atlanta to Albuquerque, sometime in 1998. I'm flying with the young #1 Son and the very young (2 year old) #2 Son.
In those days, Giants still strode the earth, and airlines fed you. I had children's meals for the kids. The flight attendant brought them first, which was a nice touch.
Ah, hot dogs, I said to myself. Good. They'll eat that. My kids were generally good about what they'd eat, but every now and then something would go off the rails - for example, they'd never touch Mac and cheese. Hot dogs got the Borepatch seal of approval.
Except this time, we hit a long stretch of bumpy air. #2 Son got sick. On me. Ah, the pleasures of fatherhood.
Of course, I'd checked the suitcases, because I had all I could handle with the stroller, snack bag, and other implements of destruction. Of course I had a change of clothes for him; I just didn't have anything for me. Plus, we changed planes in Dallas.
Good thing they have Golf Shops in DFW terminal. I bought a polo shirt that said "Dallas", which got me to Albuquerque. It was a sad day when the shirt ripped and we threw it away.
The setting: Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport, sometime in 1999. #1 Son has been writing letters to his grandparents all summer. The deal was that I'd take him to the Balloon Festival. We'd ridden the MARTA subway to the airport, which was a mistake - there was construction, a big delay, and we got to the airport after the flight had left.
But this was in the days when Giants strode the earth, and before the airlines were all going bankrupt. The gate agent took one look at him, holding back the tears (plus a glance at my 100,000+ miles the year before). She asked him where he was going, and he said to see Grandpa.
She got us on a late flight, and bumped us up to First Class. It really didn't make much difference to him - he fell asleep pretty quickly - but it was a very nice diving catch by the American Airlines gate agent.
The Setting: Today, sitting next to #2 Son in DFW. It's very odd flying this route to Albuquerque knowing that Dad isn't there to meet me at the airport.
I'm glad to have the company.
In those days, Giants still strode the earth, and airlines fed you. I had children's meals for the kids. The flight attendant brought them first, which was a nice touch.
Ah, hot dogs, I said to myself. Good. They'll eat that. My kids were generally good about what they'd eat, but every now and then something would go off the rails - for example, they'd never touch Mac and cheese. Hot dogs got the Borepatch seal of approval.
Except this time, we hit a long stretch of bumpy air. #2 Son got sick. On me. Ah, the pleasures of fatherhood.
Of course, I'd checked the suitcases, because I had all I could handle with the stroller, snack bag, and other implements of destruction. Of course I had a change of clothes for him; I just didn't have anything for me. Plus, we changed planes in Dallas.
Good thing they have Golf Shops in DFW terminal. I bought a polo shirt that said "Dallas", which got me to Albuquerque. It was a sad day when the shirt ripped and we threw it away.
The setting: Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport, sometime in 1999. #1 Son has been writing letters to his grandparents all summer. The deal was that I'd take him to the Balloon Festival. We'd ridden the MARTA subway to the airport, which was a mistake - there was construction, a big delay, and we got to the airport after the flight had left.
But this was in the days when Giants strode the earth, and before the airlines were all going bankrupt. The gate agent took one look at him, holding back the tears (plus a glance at my 100,000+ miles the year before). She asked him where he was going, and he said to see Grandpa.
She got us on a late flight, and bumped us up to First Class. It really didn't make much difference to him - he fell asleep pretty quickly - but it was a very nice diving catch by the American Airlines gate agent.
The Setting: Today, sitting next to #2 Son in DFW. It's very odd flying this route to Albuquerque knowing that Dad isn't there to meet me at the airport.
I'm glad to have the company.
On not learning
The biggest problem for people who believe that Ivy League elites are best positioned to run things, because they're like really smart and everything, is that reality keeps intruding. And the elites keep not learning:
Most American interventions come from two closely related childish fantasies: first, that one side in a tribal war is all good and the other all bad; and second, that the weaker tribe are the “underdogs” and therefore the good guys. Just look at those two ideas and you’ll see that they’re a series of disasters waiting to happen.Read the whole thing, and weep.
Quote of the Day
Aretae brings teh smart:
Liberal: The right laws can get us good resultsYup.
Conservative: the right leadership can get us good results
Libertarian: Government activity can't get us good results.
The Brown Truck of Happiness
It came to my house, and dropped off ammo. With no licensing or permitting by the government. The air smells of freedom (and flowers).
Steve at Bulkammo.com asked me several months ago if I'd do a review for them; unfortunately, the last few months have been pretty busy. Things are settling down some now, although we're off to Dad's funeral.
Look for a review early next week, but if you too live in a Free State (or are duly licensed and permitted by your non-Free State government Overlords), you might go check them out.
In the meantime, posting will be sporadic. And thanks to Steve for his patience and generosity.
Steve at Bulkammo.com asked me several months ago if I'd do a review for them; unfortunately, the last few months have been pretty busy. Things are settling down some now, although we're off to Dad's funeral.
Look for a review early next week, but if you too live in a Free State (or are duly licensed and permitted by your non-Free State government Overlords), you might go check them out.
In the meantime, posting will be sporadic. And thanks to Steve for his patience and generosity.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The "Smart" never ends ...
First it was "renewable solar power" modeled on Spain's disastrous boondoggle.
Then it was "Smart Diplomacy" that's fracturing NATO.
Now it's High Speed rail to "keep up with China". Oops:
Oh yeah, a village in Texas is missing its idiot, or something. Glad we got rid of all those dim-bulbs and got Top Men on things.
Hat tip: The Antiplanner.
Then it was "Smart Diplomacy" that's fracturing NATO.
Now it's High Speed rail to "keep up with China". Oops:
China’s massive high-speed rail network is being called unsafe, unprofitable and corrupt.Oh, and the tickets are so expensive that the trains are empty. Boy, you put enough Ivy League grads in positions of power, and things just happen.
The Chinese Railways Ministry Chief, Liu Zhijun was in charge of the construction of the railway, spanning almost 8,100 miles across China and reportedly costing $395 billion U.S. dollars.
Liu was fired In February. He’s now behind bars and under investigation for “severe violations of discipline.” During his seven years as chief, he embezzled a personal fortune of $120 billion U.S. dollars.
Corruption is not the only problem plaguing China’s railways. Experts say shoddy materials were used to cut costs. According to a source for the New York Times, the concrete bases for the tracks were so cheaply made, with insufficient hardening agents that the tracks would warp in five years.
Oh yeah, a village in Texas is missing its idiot, or something. Glad we got rid of all those dim-bulbs and got Top Men on things.
Hat tip: The Antiplanner.
Aires wept
I guess this is what happens when do-we-shoot-or-not decisions get made by bureaucratic infighting.
We are the most powerful nation on earth. No external power, no terrorist organization, can defeat us. But we can defeat ourselves by getting caught in a quagmire.
A Haiku
It's spring in Atlanta, and that means that it's time to visit the Botanical Garden. I went last weekend, and it was spectacular.
I must admit, some are a bit frou-frou for my taste, although they are admittedly showy::
Half of Atlanta was there, but I guess there's a reason for that. Just bring your allergy pills.
Cumulus petalsThe gardens are a lot bigger than when I lived here in the late 1990s. Their display proves the rule that if you're going to plant tulips, plant them by the battalion, not by the squad.
all through the yard remind me
that I need Zirtec
I must admit, some are a bit frou-frou for my taste, although they are admittedly showy::
Half of Atlanta was there, but I guess there's a reason for that. Just bring your allergy pills.
Juxtaposition
There is something dark the the soul. Compare and contrast:
Part 1: the daughter of the Leipzig burgomaster in April, 1945.
The end of Das tausendjährigen Reiches was hard for Nazi true believers, their families, and those in the path of the Red Army:
Part 2. The mob: the flip side of the coin.
Read both, and think especially on this part:
Part 1: the daughter of the Leipzig burgomaster in April, 1945.
The end of Das tausendjährigen Reiches was hard for Nazi true believers, their families, and those in the path of the Red Army:
This suicidal impulse was not confined to the Nazi elite. Ordinary Germans in untold numbers responded to the prospect of defeat in the same way. At the Berlin Philharmonic’s last performance, which coincidentally but not too surprisingly was Götterdämmerung, the audience was given potassium cyanide pills. In April 1945 there were 3,881 recorded suicides in Berlin, nearly twenty times the figure for March. Untold numbers of victims of rape by the Soviet Red Army also committed suicide, and news of violence and rape further propelled mass suicides in villages all over Germany.It was a wave of death, washing over the civilian population of Germany. You might say that it was a mass impulse.
Part 2. The mob: the flip side of the coin.
In Seattle in 2001, a 26-year-old woman who had recently ended a relationship held up traffic for a little too long as she considered the implications of leaping to her death. As motorists began to back-up on the bridge and become irate, they started yelling “Jump, bitch, jump!” until she did.You Are Not So Smart looks at why police rope off the areas around someone who might jump; it's not to keep spectators from becoming an impromptu landing pad, it's to keep them out of shouting distance. The crowd members have a tendency of losing their individuality, at which point the crowd becomes a mob.
Read both, and think especially on this part:
The risk of a spontaneous cheering section goading a person into killing themselves is high when people in a group feel anonymous and are annoyed or angry. It only takes one person to get the crowd going. Those are the three ingredients – anonymity, group size and arousal. If you lose your sense of self, feel the power of a crowd and then get slammed by a powerful cue from the environment – your individuality may evaporate.Then think on the Internet, and anonymous blog comments. Let's remember, and keep our humanity.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Time wasters
Everybody knows that Wikipedia is nearly the ultimate time waster. I also have to give honorable mention to the Jargon File, which some geeks will recognize and the rest should go read. This is Hacker* ancient lore, and by ancient, I mean really old: I have a printed copy from 1993, and it was up to version 2.9.4 by then. It's the condensed "Oral Tradition" from the early days of programming.
For example, I used a toss-away line in an earlier post: You are in a maze of twisty passages, all alike. This is from the ADVENT computer game, sometimes called Adventure or Colossal Cave. The game is so old - from the early 1970s - that it ran on Mainframes in FORTRAN.
The Jargon file not only describes the game (as does the Wikipedia page), but puts it into a "hacker lore" context (as the Wikipedia page does not):
Adapting this to the Gun Control debate, an appropriately hackish reply to suggested new "common sense" laws would be I see no 'common sense' here. Old graybeard gunnie geeks will smile when they hear this.
Many entries show the love of punning. For example, everybody's heard of optimal. Optimal solutions are the ideal towards which we all strive. Strangely, The Jargon file does not include this, but does offer its antonym:
Eric S. Raymond maintained the file for quite a long time; he doesn't appear to be much involved these days, although his Unix Koans of Master Foo are worth your while.
But full warning: if you're an IT geek, this is a time sink of epic proportions. You're welcome.
* Hacker is used in the original meaning of a clever programmer, not in the popular usage of an Internet Bad Guy. Note: people thinking of trying out "hacking" in the modern sense need to read Master Foo and the Script Kiddie. Just sayin'.
For example, I used a toss-away line in an earlier post: You are in a maze of twisty passages, all alike. This is from the ADVENT computer game, sometimes called Adventure or Colossal Cave. The game is so old - from the early 1970s - that it ran on Mainframes in FORTRAN.
The Jargon file not only describes the game (as does the Wikipedia page), but puts it into a "hacker lore" context (as the Wikipedia page does not):
This game defined the terse, dryly humorous style since expected in text adventure games, and popularized several tag lines that have become fixtures of hacker-speak: “A huge green fierce snake bars the way!” “I see no X here” (for some noun X). “You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.” “You are in a little maze of twisty passages, all different.” The ‘magic words’ xyzzy and plugh also derive from this game.(A word to the wise: xyzzy and plugh are exceptionally bad choices for a password ...)
Adapting this to the Gun Control debate, an appropriately hackish reply to suggested new "common sense" laws would be I see no 'common sense' here. Old graybeard gunnie geeks will smile when they hear this.
Many entries show the love of punning. For example, everybody's heard of optimal. Optimal solutions are the ideal towards which we all strive. Strangely, The Jargon file does not include this, but does offer its antonym:
pessimal: /pes im l/, adj.There is a great richness of techno-geekery preserved here. This entry is perhaps richer than some but gives you the exact flavor:
[Latin-based antonym for optimal] Maximally bad. “This is a pessimal situation.” Also pessimize vt. To make as bad as possible. These words are the obvious Latin-based antonyms for optimal and optimize, but for some reason they do not appear in most English dictionaries, although ‘pessimize’ is listed in the OED.
But to me, the historical value is the best part. The "don't do this, m'kay?" captured in Scratch Monkey should be required reading for all beginning engineers.
scram switch: n.
[from the nuclear power industry] An emergency-power-off switch (see Big Red Switch), esp. one positioned to be easily hit by evacuating personnel. In general, this is not something you frob lightly; these often initiate expensive events (such as Halon dumps) and are installed in a dinosaur pen for use in case of electrical fire or in case some luckless field servoid should put 120 volts across himself while Easter egging. (See also molly-guard, TMRC.)
“Scram” was in origin a backronym for “Safety Cut Rope Axe Man” coined by Enrico Fermi himself. The story goes that in the earliest nuclear power experiments the engineers recognized the possibility that the reactor wouldn't behave exactly as predicted by their mathematical models. Accordingly, they made sure that they had mechanisms in place that would rapidly drop the control rods back into the reactor. One mechanism took the form of ‘scram technicians’. These individuals stood next to the ropes or cables that raised and lowered the control rods. Equipped with axes or cable-cutters, these technicians stood ready for the (literal) ‘scram’ command. If necessary, they would cut the cables, and gravity would expeditiously return the control rods to the reactor, thereby averting yet another kind of core dump.
Eric S. Raymond maintained the file for quite a long time; he doesn't appear to be much involved these days, although his Unix Koans of Master Foo are worth your while.
But full warning: if you're an IT geek, this is a time sink of epic proportions. You're welcome.
* Hacker is used in the original meaning of a clever programmer, not in the popular usage of an Internet Bad Guy. Note: people thinking of trying out "hacking" in the modern sense need to read Master Foo and the Script Kiddie. Just sayin'.
The Luftwaffe's Intercontinental bomber
What a magical world Wikipedia is*. Yesterday's post about the Nazi B-17 led to a German bomber which may have made a test flight to New York City.
Hermann Göring knew in the 1930s that the Luftwaffe might come into conflict with the United States, and this would require a very long range bomber. He proposed, and Hitler approved, the Amerika project to develop such an airframe. Ultimately, a handful of Junkers Ju 390 bomber prototypes were built.
This was a much bigger challenge that the US faced with its B-17, or even the longer range B-24. Neither of those were designed to make the Gandar-Berlin run. Even the B-29 wasn't up for this, even as advanced as it was. It took until 1949 and the B-36 before a bomber with true Intercontinental (10,000+ mile range) capability.
And the US had all sorts of experience designing long range aircraft. The Germans didn't, although this seems to have been a credible effort. The Ju 390 had a nominal range of 6,000 miles, much better than either the B-17 and B-24, or even the B-29.
The difference is that the Ju 390 was only one of many German "vanity" projects: ingenious ideas that were well executed in prototype form, but never seeing mass production. By contrast, the US made 12,000 B-17s, 18,000 B-24s, and almost 4000 B-29s. The Germans built a thousand times fewer of their big bombers.
Ultimately, it's a good thing that Albert Speer never was able to shut down all of the distracting experimental programs. Had he been able to do so, and focus on large quantities of fewer designs (Panther Tanks, FW-190 fighters, etc), it's likely that the war would have been even longer and more costly.
* A maze of twisty passages, all alike and yet all different.
Hermann Göring knew in the 1930s that the Luftwaffe might come into conflict with the United States, and this would require a very long range bomber. He proposed, and Hitler approved, the Amerika project to develop such an airframe. Ultimately, a handful of Junkers Ju 390 bomber prototypes were built.
This was a much bigger challenge that the US faced with its B-17, or even the longer range B-24. Neither of those were designed to make the Gandar-Berlin run. Even the B-29 wasn't up for this, even as advanced as it was. It took until 1949 and the B-36 before a bomber with true Intercontinental (10,000+ mile range) capability.
And the US had all sorts of experience designing long range aircraft. The Germans didn't, although this seems to have been a credible effort. The Ju 390 had a nominal range of 6,000 miles, much better than either the B-17 and B-24, or even the B-29.
The difference is that the Ju 390 was only one of many German "vanity" projects: ingenious ideas that were well executed in prototype form, but never seeing mass production. By contrast, the US made 12,000 B-17s, 18,000 B-24s, and almost 4000 B-29s. The Germans built a thousand times fewer of their big bombers.
Ultimately, it's a good thing that Albert Speer never was able to shut down all of the distracting experimental programs. Had he been able to do so, and focus on large quantities of fewer designs (Panther Tanks, FW-190 fighters, etc), it's likely that the war would have been even longer and more costly.
* A maze of twisty passages, all alike and yet all different.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Luftwaffe's B-17
From the you don't see that every day files, the Germans captured at least one B-17 Flying Fortress. Operated by the KG 200 special Luftwaffe unit, it was perhaps intended to be used for long range reconnaissance. Instead, it was flown by its Luftwaffe crew to Spain in 1944 where it (and they) were interned by the Spanish government.
The Germans also captured a B-24 Liberator bomber, which was for some reason flown to join an Allied B-24 raid in February 1945:
On a February 1945 741st BS mission against Vienna, "Before reaching the target, a 'phantom' B-24 joined our formation.…The P-51s [of the Tuskegee Airmen] came in and over the radio…the German phantom pilot said he was from the 55th Wing and got lost. But the 55th Wing wasn't flying that day and the plane had no tail markings. The fighter pilot squadron leader gave him some bursts from his guns and warned the phantom to turn back. He added, 'You will be escorted.' The German pilot replied that he could make it alone. The P-51 pilot said: 'You are going to be escorted whether you want it or not. You're going to have two men on your tail all the way back and don't try to land in Yugoslavia.'…The phantom left with his escort and we heard nothing further from the event."I must say that this is one of the strangest stories I've ever heard.
Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal...
Elmo Escariot has an idea that is so filled with Win that it hurts. But both barrels of a .470 Nitro Express? That hurts ...
I'm in. I even own a Tux, although I'd have too shave for the pencil thin mustache look ...
Via Kahr40.
I'm in. I even own a Tux, although I'd have too shave for the pencil thin mustache look ...
I yearned mightily to enter this fascinating yet repellent city, and besought the bearded man to land me at the stone pier by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying: "Into Thalarion, the City of a Thousand Wonders, many have passed but none returned. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that are no longer men, and the streets are white with the unburied bones of those who have looked upon the eidolon Lathi, that reigns over the city."
H. P. Lovecraft, The White Ship
Via Kahr40.
An analogy, in four acts
Act 1. An 18 year old college student experiences freedom for the first time, after living at home. He goes a little crazy, with all night raves, blowing his textbook budget on beer and fast women, and having a ball. And then after a couple months, he discovers to his horror that he can't pay the bill. He calls Dad, who (a) pays his bills and (b) makes him move into the basement so he'll study. He hates this.
Act 2. The European Union, having watched the disintegration of the Soviet Empire, cuts their military to the bone, to spend the dough onbeer and fast women vote-buying entitlement programs. After a couple years, they notice hundreds of thousands of Europeans being killed in the Balkans. They call Dad the United States, who (a) plaster Serbia with JDAMS and (b) stop listening to the EU on all matters pertaining to, err, everything. They hate this.
Act 3. The Western Elites, having seen the rise of a "End-of-History" world dominated by a Superpower they think they can control, go all "Security Council" on Iraq in 1991. After a decade of no-fly zones and Our Boys getting shot at every day (plus 9/11), they realize that they don't actually, you know, control the Superpower. They scream bloody murder asDad the Superpower goes all Medieval on Sadaam's butt, (a) with JDAMs, (b) with the 3rd ID and the Marines, and (c) pretty much ignores their ZOMG-IT'S-A-QUAGMIRE-WE'RE-ALL-GONNA-DIEEEEE shrieking until things looks pretty stable. They hate this.
Act 4. The Arab League, having blown all their petro-cash like Charlie Sheen, sees one of their own shooting his people down like dogs. They begDad the United States to pleasepleasepleaseplease make the Bad Things stop. When the U.S. responds with (a) Cruise Missiles and (b) other 'splody stuff they get all "Not like this. I hate this!" and stamp their feet. Or something.
[U.S.A. exeunt]
I'm not sure if this is a Comedy, or a Tragedy ....
Act 2. The European Union, having watched the disintegration of the Soviet Empire, cuts their military to the bone, to spend the dough on
Act 3. The Western Elites, having seen the rise of a "End-of-History" world dominated by a Superpower they think they can control, go all "Security Council" on Iraq in 1991. After a decade of no-fly zones and Our Boys getting shot at every day (plus 9/11), they realize that they don't actually, you know, control the Superpower. They scream bloody murder as
Act 4. The Arab League, having blown all their petro-cash like Charlie Sheen, sees one of their own shooting his people down like dogs. They beg
[U.S.A. exeunt]
I'm not sure if this is a Comedy, or a Tragedy ....
Sunday, March 20, 2011
In which I find that I am an idiot ...
We've know that for a while - don't think I don't hear you muttering that ...
So I do a blogroll update today, and forget to add Johnnyreb™ from Rebel Yell. This isn't just FAIL, it's a trifecta of FAIL:
Fail #1: I stole the greatest firearms-related song since the 1812 Overture* from him.
Fail #2: He brings the Smart about whether you should carry with a round in the chamber.
Fail #3: I promised him on Friday that I'd add him to the blogroll, and forgot.
Fortunately, Southern Belle brings news of bigger idiots than me. Yowzer. That's stupid. Thanks, Belle, for returning the spring to my step!
And it goes without saying that you should all be reading both of them.
* The 1812 Overture is scored for artillery and Orchestra. That's tough to beat.
So I do a blogroll update today, and forget to add Johnnyreb™ from Rebel Yell. This isn't just FAIL, it's a trifecta of FAIL:
Fail #1: I stole the greatest firearms-related song since the 1812 Overture* from him.
Fail #2: He brings the Smart about whether you should carry with a round in the chamber.
Fail #3: I promised him on Friday that I'd add him to the blogroll, and forgot.
Fortunately, Southern Belle brings news of bigger idiots than me. Yowzer. That's stupid. Thanks, Belle, for returning the spring to my step!
And it goes without saying that you should all be reading both of them.
* The 1812 Overture is scored for artillery and Orchestra. That's tough to beat.
Ah, the "World's Greatest Debating Society"
So Senator Bingaman (D, N.M.) says that high gas prices aren't the result of either the incredibly slow (read: immobile) permitting process for drilling in the Gulf of Mexico, or because of Cap and Trade. So what makes the gas prices high?
And then he keeps flapping his yap. The solution to foreign oil?
What did Senator Dim Bulb leave out of the mix, for reducing imported petroleum? increasing the number of permits to drill in the Gulf? Hello? Bueller?
Sigh. An energy production chokepoint caused by the Fed.Gov, leading to higher prices (or preventing the mitigation of same; it amounts to the same thing). The solution: Democratic Party environmental policy!
Senator Bingaman's education clearly did not include The Devil's Dictionary, which would have helped him avoid his current oratorical style:
He closed by arguing that only reducing the country’s overall dependence on foreign oil would result in long-term relief at the pump.Actually, this is not half bad analysis for a Senator. The Senate, as you will recall from The Devil's Dictionary, is an august body of distinguished gentlemen, charged with high responsibilities and misdemeanors. So score one for the Senator for having at least a shadow of a clue.
And then he keeps flapping his yap. The solution to foreign oil?
“First, we need to enable further expansion of our renewable fuel industry, which is currently facing infrastructure and financing constraints,” he said. “Second, we need to move forward the timeline for market penetration of electric vehicles. Finally, we need to make sure we use natural gas vehicles in as many applications as make sense based on that technology.”So let's replace expensive imported petroleum with more expensive "renewable" fuels. Let's replace expensive imported petroleum with $50,000 electric cars that go 25 miles before they need to be recharged. The Natural Gas idea isn't bad, but that means he scores a 33%, for not even a Gentleman's D. It's a flat out F, as in Fail.
What did Senator Dim Bulb leave out of the mix, for reducing imported petroleum? increasing the number of permits to drill in the Gulf? Hello? Bueller?
Sigh. An energy production chokepoint caused by the Fed.Gov, leading to higher prices (or preventing the mitigation of same; it amounts to the same thing). The solution: Democratic Party environmental policy!
Senator Bingaman's education clearly did not include The Devil's Dictionary, which would have helped him avoid his current oratorical style:
SOPHISTRY, n. The controversial method of an opponent, distinguished from one's own by superior insincerity and fooling.His insincerity is superior, at least.
Blogroll updates
Via email, Murphy barks that he has me on his blogroll. I must confess that I have quite the soft spot in my heart for German Shepherd dogs. But while my Jack was smart enough to figure out how to open doors, he never quite got the hang of how to get people to toss Mardi Gras beads at you. I guess I never hard the heart to tell him that he didn't have what it takes ...
Also, I must be getting old. They say that two things happen when you get old: you start to forget things, and I can't remember what the other is. Well, I must have forgotten to add Excels At Nothing to the blogroll here. Nancy's even cooking up springtime with Asparagus in French Rolls, which look completely yummy. Plus 80 caliber charcoal burners - what's not to like?
I followed a Sitemeter referral back to The Kodiak Files, where the picture he has at the top of his blog makes me drool. But he's not just a, err, pretty face - he brings good sense (especially for Murphy's Law, above):
Blogbrother PISSED is now blogging at The Feral Irishman. He finds cool stuff, like Double Chocolate Vodka (does your Bug Out Bag have one?). Plus, he beat me to Sonic Charmer's outstanding smackdown of the anti-war left. The real definition of "an expert" seems to be someone who's five minutes ahead of PISSED. Not so easy to do, it seems.
And last but not least, many of you have run across Bob Owens of Confederate Yankee. Bob also runs a shooting-focused blog, Bob's Gun Counter. Interesting stuff - for example, the old Russian armory at Tula seems to be privately owned now. Cool. Thanks for the blogroll, Bob.
Welcome to the Borepatch blogroll, everyone! And the usual note: if you have a link up to me and I haven't noticed, please send me an email or leave a comment.
Also, I must be getting old. They say that two things happen when you get old: you start to forget things, and I can't remember what the other is. Well, I must have forgotten to add Excels At Nothing to the blogroll here. Nancy's even cooking up springtime with Asparagus in French Rolls, which look completely yummy. Plus 80 caliber charcoal burners - what's not to like?
I followed a Sitemeter referral back to The Kodiak Files, where the picture he has at the top of his blog makes me drool. But he's not just a, err, pretty face - he brings good sense (especially for Murphy's Law, above):
We have always considered dogs as part of our family. My dog always goes where ever I go. I have even planned for my dogs in case TSHTF. Dogs are one of the most versatile tools a person can have in a survival situation. Dogs were one of the first domesticated animals and are called Man's best friend for a reason. A good dog can hunt, track, retrieve, carry supplies, they are good company, and can be trained to protect both people and property. In my opinion most dogs more productive than many of the people I know.Good advice, right there. If you have a four footed family member, you'll want to RTWT.
That is why I have packed a B.O.B for my dog.
Blogbrother PISSED is now blogging at The Feral Irishman. He finds cool stuff, like Double Chocolate Vodka (does your Bug Out Bag have one?). Plus, he beat me to Sonic Charmer's outstanding smackdown of the anti-war left. The real definition of "an expert" seems to be someone who's five minutes ahead of PISSED. Not so easy to do, it seems.
And last but not least, many of you have run across Bob Owens of Confederate Yankee. Bob also runs a shooting-focused blog, Bob's Gun Counter. Interesting stuff - for example, the old Russian armory at Tula seems to be privately owned now. Cool. Thanks for the blogroll, Bob.
Welcome to the Borepatch blogroll, everyone! And the usual note: if you have a link up to me and I haven't noticed, please send me an email or leave a comment.
I'm afraid I told you so
It seems that everyone's in full-frontal mockery mode about the Usual Suspects' reaction to Obama's "Civilize 'em with a Krag" moment. I don't have much to add here; I don't think we have any business blowing up Libyan stuff - there's certainly no casus belli that I can see - but it seems pretty obvious that Obama isn't driving events here. He's reacting to pressure from the Europeans, from the UN, from Hilary Clinton, from everyone.
He's changing his mind again. I guess there's nothing wrong with changeable opinions, even at the extreme. Even a Bill Clinton style "my only firm opinion is that what's good for Bill Clinton is what's best to do" gives us a certain amount of predictability. We (and the rest of the world) can actually make plans about the future based on this.
That's not what we've got here, and I'm kind of sad to say that I told you so a year and a half ago. It's quite disturbing to revisit this old post and not see anything of import that needs updating. I sure wish it weren't so.
-------------------- Unready, 2 October 2009 --------------------
The Battle of Maldon is probably the second oldest epic poem in the English language (only Beowulf is older). It tells the tale of Earl Britnoth, who fell in battle against the invading Vikings in 991 AD. The poem is so old that it is in Old English, the still Germanic root of our current language. J.R.R. Tolkein was a scholar of Anglo-Saxon literature, and published a translation of the poem.
A story this old only survives if it speaks to something deep in the soul of the people of the time. What spoke to them was how Britnoth's hearth companions - his bodyguard, his huskarls - fought to the death over their slain lord's body. Despite the victory, the Viking army was so mauled that it sailed for home. People remembered their sacrifice because it stood in stark contrast to the cowardly actions of the king.
The 970s were the high water mark of the Anglo-Saxon empire. King Edgar was overlord - Emperor, really - of lesser kings in a united Britain. The realm was powerful, feared, and so at peace.
Until Ethelred the Unready. Coming to the throne as a boy in 979 when his brother Edward was murdered, he had to rely on advisers to defend his kingdom during the 980s. It was a brutal era, and it didn't take long for predictors to start stalking the weakened kingdom.
Ethelred means "noble counsel", from the root raed (council, advice). The Anglo-Saxons were great lovers of puns, and it was gallows humor that gave his nickname: unraed - "no council" - from which we get Unready.
Ethelred couldn't make up his mind - he couldn't formulate a plan and stick to it. And so he dithered: strong for a time until he met some minor difficulty, then weak when he could have pressed his enemies and won. They smelled blood, and what had started in the 970s as small plunder raids turned into all out invasions by Viking armies intent on inflicting the maximum damage possible.
They were after Danegeld - a ransom for them to go away. Rather than doing their own plundering, they got Ethelred to do it for them: collect taxes to pay them off. The problem, of course is well known. Once you pay the Danegeld, you never get rid of the Dane. Ethelred found the price kept rising: 10,000 pounds (992), 16,000 (994), 24,000 (1002), 36,000 (1007), 48,000 (1012). At this point, the Vikings wanted the whole prize, and Ethelred had to flee to France the next year.
His cruelty - such as his order to kill all male Danes in his kingdom in 1002 - was something his people could tolerate; indeed, it was a cruel time. His fecklessness was a different story, because he couldn't provide what all leaders must: victory. He couldn't win. Coming to the throne too young, he never learned how to lead.
We're seeing this today, in the Oval Office. The Obama administration is long on promises, but short on victories. They rammed the "stimulus" through Congress (we can blame the Bush administration for the Bank bailout), but since then their agenda has stalled. Cap and Trade is languishing in committee, unlikely to pass. His Health care plan is a shambles, with five competing plans and a fragmented Democratic party that smells defeat in the 2010 elections. We see the echo of Ethelred here: no mandate to buy insurance (candidate Obama), a mandate that people must buy it (today), a required "public option" (April), no required public option (today).
His foreign policy is a disaster: retreat from the Russians (no missile defense in eastern Europe), no sanctions for Iran (even the French are disgusted), retreat from victory in Afghanistan, unable to convince the International Olympic Committee to pick Chicago.
The more people see him - at home and abroad - the less they fear him. Like Ethelred, he may have a ruthless streak, but in October - what should be the high water mark of his power and influence - he seems unready. He thinks too highly of himself but he doesn't know how to accomplish his goals, he keeps changing his goals, his enemies are increasingly confident, and he surrounds himself with unraed - bad council.
We've seen this story before, and it doesn't end well.
þa wearð afeallen þæs folces ealdor, Æþelredes eorl;
Sacrificed by a feckless leader. May we fare better.
He's changing his mind again. I guess there's nothing wrong with changeable opinions, even at the extreme. Even a Bill Clinton style "my only firm opinion is that what's good for Bill Clinton is what's best to do" gives us a certain amount of predictability. We (and the rest of the world) can actually make plans about the future based on this.
That's not what we've got here, and I'm kind of sad to say that I told you so a year and a half ago. It's quite disturbing to revisit this old post and not see anything of import that needs updating. I sure wish it weren't so.
-------------------- Unready, 2 October 2009 --------------------
A story this old only survives if it speaks to something deep in the soul of the people of the time. What spoke to them was how Britnoth's hearth companions - his bodyguard, his huskarls - fought to the death over their slain lord's body. Despite the victory, the Viking army was so mauled that it sailed for home. People remembered their sacrifice because it stood in stark contrast to the cowardly actions of the king.
The 970s were the high water mark of the Anglo-Saxon empire. King Edgar was overlord - Emperor, really - of lesser kings in a united Britain. The realm was powerful, feared, and so at peace.
Until Ethelred the Unready. Coming to the throne as a boy in 979 when his brother Edward was murdered, he had to rely on advisers to defend his kingdom during the 980s. It was a brutal era, and it didn't take long for predictors to start stalking the weakened kingdom.
Ethelred means "noble counsel", from the root raed (council, advice). The Anglo-Saxons were great lovers of puns, and it was gallows humor that gave his nickname: unraed - "no council" - from which we get Unready.
Ethelred! Ethelred!
Spent his royal life in bed;
one shoe off and one shoe on,
greatly loved by everyone.
Ethelred couldn't make up his mind - he couldn't formulate a plan and stick to it. And so he dithered: strong for a time until he met some minor difficulty, then weak when he could have pressed his enemies and won. They smelled blood, and what had started in the 970s as small plunder raids turned into all out invasions by Viking armies intent on inflicting the maximum damage possible.They were after Danegeld - a ransom for them to go away. Rather than doing their own plundering, they got Ethelred to do it for them: collect taxes to pay them off. The problem, of course is well known. Once you pay the Danegeld, you never get rid of the Dane. Ethelred found the price kept rising: 10,000 pounds (992), 16,000 (994), 24,000 (1002), 36,000 (1007), 48,000 (1012). At this point, the Vikings wanted the whole prize, and Ethelred had to flee to France the next year.
His cruelty - such as his order to kill all male Danes in his kingdom in 1002 - was something his people could tolerate; indeed, it was a cruel time. His fecklessness was a different story, because he couldn't provide what all leaders must: victory. He couldn't win. Coming to the throne too young, he never learned how to lead.
We're seeing this today, in the Oval Office. The Obama administration is long on promises, but short on victories. They rammed the "stimulus" through Congress (we can blame the Bush administration for the Bank bailout), but since then their agenda has stalled. Cap and Trade is languishing in committee, unlikely to pass. His Health care plan is a shambles, with five competing plans and a fragmented Democratic party that smells defeat in the 2010 elections. We see the echo of Ethelred here: no mandate to buy insurance (candidate Obama), a mandate that people must buy it (today), a required "public option" (April), no required public option (today).His foreign policy is a disaster: retreat from the Russians (no missile defense in eastern Europe), no sanctions for Iran (even the French are disgusted), retreat from victory in Afghanistan, unable to convince the International Olympic Committee to pick Chicago.
The more people see him - at home and abroad - the less they fear him. Like Ethelred, he may have a ruthless streak, but in October - what should be the high water mark of his power and influence - he seems unready. He thinks too highly of himself but he doesn't know how to accomplish his goals, he keeps changing his goals, his enemies are increasingly confident, and he surrounds himself with unraed - bad council.
We've seen this story before, and it doesn't end well.
þa wearð afeallen þæs folces ealdor, Æþelredes eorl;
Britnoth's headless body was brought back to Ely Cathedral, where he lies to this day. On his tomb is carved BRITHNOTHUS, NORTHUMBRIORUM DUX, PRAELIO CAESUS A DANIS A.D. DCCCCXCI. "Britnoth, Duke of Northumbria. He fell in battle against the Danes in the Year of Our Lord 991".
Sacrificed by a feckless leader. May we fare better.
The right to keep and bear Canon
I was looking at garden statues (don't ask), and in the maze of twisty Intarw3bz passages, I stumbled across this:
It's a Model 1841 12 pounder. Want.
Alas, it's quite spendy, so it's unlikely that one of these will grace Camp Borepatch anytime soon. Still, I quite like Mr. Steen's attitude:
It's a Model 1841 12 pounder. Want.
Alas, it's quite spendy, so it's unlikely that one of these will grace Camp Borepatch anytime soon. Still, I quite like Mr. Steen's attitude:
OFFICE HOURS:Bravo.
OPEN Most days about 9 or 10 Occasionally as early as 7, But SOMEDAYS as late as 12 or 1
WE CLOSE about 5:30 or 6 Occasionally about 4 or 5, But Sometimes as late as 11 or 12
SOMEDAYS and afternoons, we aren't here at all and Lately I've been here just about all the time, except when I'm someplace else. It is always best to call first before you come.
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