If Sacramento is providing boffo services, it isn't immediately evident in the places where non-welfare-recipient Californians are most likely to encounter them: On the clogged highways, in the crappy public schools, at the local DMV.
~Reason Magazine
Friday, May 29, 2009
Quote of the non-welfare-recipient Californians
Obama admin on closing Repub. Chrysler dealers: "Nuh-uh!"
Fox News: White House not behind Chrysler Dealership Closings
Odd...
So, which is more likely?
Obama administration pressures Chrysler to close Republican dealers, no matter their profitability?
OR
Chrysler closes completely random dealerships that happen to be Republican-owned regardless of their ability to sell Chrysler cars?
I'm still waiting for this to be plastered all over the MSM...
[This is the sound of me not holding my breath]
"We don't make those decisions...Chrysler makes those decisions," said White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs. The spokesman pushed back today on accusations the administration has been unfairly targeting for closure Chrysler dealerships whose owners contributed to Republicans.
Odd...
"It became clear to us that Chrysler does not see the wisdom of terminating 25 percent of its dealers. It really wasn't Chrysler's decision. They are under enormous pressure from the president's automotive task force," said attorney Leonard Bellavia.
So, which is more likely?
Obama administration pressures Chrysler to close Republican dealers, no matter their profitability?
OR
Chrysler closes completely random dealerships that happen to be Republican-owned regardless of their ability to sell Chrysler cars?
I'm still waiting for this to be plastered all over the MSM...
[This is the sound of me not holding my breath]
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Jailed 102 days for looking like robber
OC Register: Man jailed for 102 days before charges were dropped
Hey, that's not the polices' fault!
It was his fault for looking like a bank robber.
Yep. They look alike.
Apparently looking like someone who did something bad is cause for three months of incarceration.
That is certainly true, but if it was the only bit of evidence linking him to the scene besides eyewitnesses, it might mean that you should let him go before three months passes...
Well, stuff happens, you know? It's an imperfect world.
At least this was an isolated incident... Oh wait...
Whoops.
Well, a Clippers' game is a likely excuse. It's not like you can just check that... Especially not within five days!
Still, it beats 102 days.
I guess Burris should be thanking them.
SANTA ANA – A man once accused of robbing four Orange County banks is considering a lawsuit against police after spending 102 days in jail before prosecutors dismissed all charges against him.
[snip]
In an interview this week, Abenoja said the criminal charges have damaged his reputation and livelihood, noting that he lost two jobs because he had been incarcerated for more than three months.
Hey, that's not the polices' fault!
It was his fault for looking like a bank robber.
"It was entirely based on eyewitness identification," he said. "They didn't find a gun, they didn't find a wig, and the DNA evidence at the scene excluded (Abenoja's DNA)."
...bank tellers and patrons identified Abenoja out of a photo lineup.
[snip]
Baruch and Abenoja said police began investigating Abenoja after they received a call from a former co-worker of his. That individual had seen surveillance video of the bandit on TV and called police to say the suspect resembled Abenoja, they said.
Yep. They look alike.
Apparently looking like someone who did something bad is cause for three months of incarceration.
Results showed that Abenoja's DNA was not found at the scene of the crimes.
"This doesn't mean that he is or is not responsible," Emami said.
That is certainly true, but if it was the only bit of evidence linking him to the scene besides eyewitnesses, it might mean that you should let him go before three months passes...
Well, stuff happens, you know? It's an imperfect world.
At least this was an isolated incident... Oh wait...
It's at least the second felony case dropped this month by county prosecutors for lack of evidence. Aaron Burris, also of Huntington Beach, spent five days in jail after being arrested on suspicion of robbing a convenience store at gunpoint. Charges against Burris were dropped May 1, at the recommendation of police – after they found evidence Burris was at a Los Angeles Clippers' game at the time of the robbery.
Whoops.
Well, a Clippers' game is a likely excuse. It's not like you can just check that... Especially not within five days!
Still, it beats 102 days.
I guess Burris should be thanking them.
This made me angry
Driving into work today I saw a bumper sticker on an expensive Lexus.
I can neither confirm nor deny utterance of the C word before I could catch myself.
Resist - Don't Enlist
I can neither confirm nor deny utterance of the C word before I could catch myself.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Quote of the destruction of the world
When you have made evil the means of survival, do not expect men to remain good. Do not expect them to stay moral and lose their lives for the purpose of becoming the fodder of the immoral. Do not expect them to produce, when production is punished and looting rewarded. Do not ask, 'Who is destroying the world?' You are.
~Ayn Rand
Some kind of causality...
IRS tax revenue falls along with taxpayers' income
It's almost as if tax money comes from tax payers........
No, that can't be right...
Better raise taxes to get more taxes.
It's almost as if tax money comes from tax payers........
No, that can't be right...
Better raise taxes to get more taxes.
OPSEC FAIL
Crisis spurs spike in 'suburban survivalists'
Somewhere in San Diego, someone is writing this name down in a little black book of people who have supplies, and cleaning his gun.
Operational Security (OPSEC) is relatively important when talking about preparations for hard times. Try not to think of your friends coming to you, crazed with hunger, try to think about friends of friends who barely or don't know you, who need food or a quick buck. This is how most crime takes place, not on random targets, but targets they've been able to feel out directly or indirectly.
But ignoring regular crime for a bit; I talk to a lot of people about prepping for emergencies like earthquakes and the like, and I need to take my shoes off to count the people who've said all they need to survive is a revolver with 6 shots, (or a shovel or an axe) and a keen eye to spot the people who have prepared well.
These are good people, friends even, who claim they would have no problem icing some 45 year old father of two to take his stuff when survival was at stake.
Buy a handgun, buy a shotgun, buy a rifle, buy more than one to arm any family members who are old enough to be armed, shoot them to know they're reliable guns, train with them until you can hit man-sized targets at ranges you find around your home; across the street, down the street, in the back yard, in the living room.
When no one has had power for five days, don't fire up your generator.
When people you don't know come to your house begging for food, offer them half a can of expired something, and say you can't spare any more.
When the government sets up a cheese line, show up. (as long as it's safe)
Don't bring attention to yourselves, and make sure your kids don't either.
And when you recommend someone prepare for an emergency, and they say they'll just pick on someone who has prepared; tell them that plan only works when the prepper hasn't already shot five others with similar plans.
Those guys with their little black books are out there. They will be looking for you. Be ready for them.
SAN DIEGO — Six months ago, Jim Wiseman didn't even have a spare nutrition bar in his kitchen cabinet.
Now, the 54-year-old businessman and father of five has a backup generator, a water filter, a grain mill and a 4-foot-tall pile of emergency food tucked in his home in the expensive San Diego suburb of La Jolla.
Somewhere in San Diego, someone is writing this name down in a little black book of people who have supplies, and cleaning his gun.
Operational Security (OPSEC) is relatively important when talking about preparations for hard times. Try not to think of your friends coming to you, crazed with hunger, try to think about friends of friends who barely or don't know you, who need food or a quick buck. This is how most crime takes place, not on random targets, but targets they've been able to feel out directly or indirectly.
But ignoring regular crime for a bit; I talk to a lot of people about prepping for emergencies like earthquakes and the like, and I need to take my shoes off to count the people who've said all they need to survive is a revolver with 6 shots, (or a shovel or an axe) and a keen eye to spot the people who have prepared well.
These are good people, friends even, who claim they would have no problem icing some 45 year old father of two to take his stuff when survival was at stake.
Buy a handgun, buy a shotgun, buy a rifle, buy more than one to arm any family members who are old enough to be armed, shoot them to know they're reliable guns, train with them until you can hit man-sized targets at ranges you find around your home; across the street, down the street, in the back yard, in the living room.
When no one has had power for five days, don't fire up your generator.
When people you don't know come to your house begging for food, offer them half a can of expired something, and say you can't spare any more.
When the government sets up a cheese line, show up. (as long as it's safe)
Don't bring attention to yourselves, and make sure your kids don't either.
And when you recommend someone prepare for an emergency, and they say they'll just pick on someone who has prepared; tell them that plan only works when the prepper hasn't already shot five others with similar plans.
Those guys with their little black books are out there. They will be looking for you. Be ready for them.
Biden makes fun of Obama's teleprompter dependency... Seriously.
Disfunctional administration much?
The wind knocks Biden's teleprompter over, and he can't help but make fun of his boss.
I don't agree with 97% of what Obama says, but that doesn't mean I don't feel sorry for the man.
The wind knocks Biden's teleprompter over, and he can't help but make fun of his boss.
"What am I going to tell the president?" Biden asked the crowd. "Tell him his teleprompter is broken? What will he do then?"
I don't agree with 97% of what Obama says, but that doesn't mean I don't feel sorry for the man.
BUSH TAKES OVER CHRYSLER, CLOSES DEMOCRAT OWNED DEALERSHIPS!
Oh, no, wait, it was Obama, and this story is still breaking!
Will the MSM cover it? Who knows.
Gatewaypundit is asking;
Are we looking at the biggest political scandal since Watergate?
Incredible.
Political hit-lists?
This is just too much.
Do you feel the hope and change yet?
Well, it sure ain't politics as usual. Unless we live in Soviet Russia.
Will the MSM cover it? Who knows.
Gatewaypundit is asking;
Are we looking at the biggest political scandal since Watergate?
Incredible.
Political hit-lists?
This is just too much.
Do you feel the hope and change yet?
Well, it sure ain't politics as usual. Unless we live in Soviet Russia.
I called 911 and all I got was this lousy garbage can
Cueball posted a link in the IRC channel to this story. Toledo police lay-offs are causing more private citizens to get firearms and firearm training.
Money quote:
This in itself is not really something I find postworty, only because you can't swing an reality-challenged politician without hitting a county making cuts to essential services in favor of non-essential services. (The trick is to threaten the safety of the people just enough to get them to pay more taxes!)
What I did find interesting was the t-shirt one of the people in the video was wearing. It captures the above paragraph much better than any of my inexpert snark.
The t-shirt read;
I called 911 and all I got was this lousy garbage can
After a bit of searching, I seem to have found the story behind the shirt;
Meanwhile, they're cutting police due to budget constraints.
There you have it folks.
I called 911 and all I got was this lousy garbage can
We could make one for California, but it would probably run out of space before it listed all the non-essential services that got money while firefighters, police, and emergency services were cut.
Maybe you could do it on a multiple shirts.
(list continued on shirt 2/3)
Money quote:
"People are panicking, they're figuring the only way they can protect themselves is for them to protect themselves," says Urbanski. "So yeah, my business is booming."
This in itself is not really something I find postworty, only because you can't swing an reality-challenged politician without hitting a county making cuts to essential services in favor of non-essential services. (The trick is to threaten the safety of the people just enough to get them to pay more taxes!)
What I did find interesting was the t-shirt one of the people in the video was wearing. It captures the above paragraph much better than any of my inexpert snark.
The t-shirt read;
I called 911 and all I got was this lousy garbage can
After a bit of searching, I seem to have found the story behind the shirt;
The city just finshed spending a bunch of money on a new garbage collection system. To ensure compatability with the trucks, residents are issued a garbage can.
Meanwhile, they're cutting police due to budget constraints.
There you have it folks.
I called 911 and all I got was this lousy garbage can
We could make one for California, but it would probably run out of space before it listed all the non-essential services that got money while firefighters, police, and emergency services were cut.
Maybe you could do it on a multiple shirts.
(list continued on shirt 2/3)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!
There's a new announcement on Larry Elder's site!
"Stay tuned! News will be forthcoming."
Oh. Well, at least we know it's coming now!
"Stay tuned! News will be forthcoming."
Oh. Well, at least we know it's coming now!
BUSH CLOSES FOREIGN PRISON, PROMISES NOT TO TORTURE, NOW USES FOREIGN GOVT.S TO INTERROGATE FOR INTEL
Oh, no, wait, it was Obama, and no one cares.
Well, actually, the NY Times cares, so that says something.
So, I ask again;
How long can Obama supporters hold out?
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
From HotAir, who seems to like the whole "Did I say Bush? I meant Obama" thing.
Well, actually, the NY Times cares, so that says something.
So, I ask again;
How long can Obama supporters hold out?
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
From HotAir, who seems to like the whole "Did I say Bush? I meant Obama" thing.
The gray area turns white
From Robb, comes this bit of idiocy.
Man is threatened with a knife on school property, he retrieves a gun, situation diffused. He is charged with having a gun on school property. Judge says he should have pointed the gun at the guy to prove he needed the gun for self defense.
I immediately thought of a comment I left at Marko's place.
Kinda sucks.
Man is threatened with a knife on school property, he retrieves a gun, situation diffused. He is charged with having a gun on school property. Judge says he should have pointed the gun at the guy to prove he needed the gun for self defense.
I immediately thought of a comment I left at Marko's place.
... Of interest is the fact that in some states, the only level of response to a threat you are afforded is the final level. Similar to warning shots, anything short of “I feared for my life” response can be interpreted as unlawful activity. If I have a gun and a bat, and a man approaches to attack me, and I decided to use the bat, it could be argued that I was not in fear for my life, and simply wanted to take the opportunity to beat someone up. Similarly, use of a paintball gun when I had a gun nearby could mean I wasn’t in fear for my life, and therefore unlawfully discharged a gas-powered projectile launcher within city limits, and perpetrated animal cruelty (a felony in Ca.)
In such cases, it makes legal sense to go straight to self-defense level force.
It’s unfortunate that the laws are such that we have limited non-lethal options, but no one seems to be in any rush to stop civil and criminal lawsuits where people chose not to use lethal force. The gray area has been turned into a white area, leaving the only sensible action in the black.
Kinda sucks.
Friday, May 22, 2009
We are but actors in A Security Theater
Breda had two run ins with TSA (A Security Theater) on a recent trip.
Because she uses a prosthetic, she was subjected to particular scrutiny.
She didn't like it, but she put up with it because she was doing her part. By complying, she was making her, and her fellow passengers safer.
Except not.
Feel safer yet?
Because she uses a prosthetic, she was subjected to particular scrutiny.
She didn't like it, but she put up with it because she was doing her part. By complying, she was making her, and her fellow passengers safer.
Except not.
So, that knife had been resting innocently at the bottom of the cellphone pocket the entire time I was traveling without me realizing it. The knife is entirely composed of metal, its blade is 2 1/4 inches long, and it went through TSA and onto an airplane not once, but twice. [snip] I had been humiliated for nothing. Nothing.
Feel safer yet?
But I live in a good neighborhood part 9
Husband, wife stabbed to death in Ventura home
A man wearing a dark jumpsuit and a black motorcycle helmet entered the home from an unlocked rear sliding glass door, stabbed to death the mother and father of two, and fled.
Police have no suspects or leads.
This wasn't just a good neighborhood; this was an exclusive, affluent neighborhood. The back door was yards away from a private beach in a gated community.
This was the BEST neighborhood.
Still think you're exempt from crime because you live in a good neighborhood?
A man wearing a dark jumpsuit and a black motorcycle helmet entered the home from an unlocked rear sliding glass door, stabbed to death the mother and father of two, and fled.
Police have no suspects or leads.
"That's the big question," he said. "We don’t know if it was completely random and we're dealing with a psychopath, or if they were targeted for some unknown reason."
This wasn't just a good neighborhood; this was an exclusive, affluent neighborhood. The back door was yards away from a private beach in a gated community.
This was the BEST neighborhood.
Still think you're exempt from crime because you live in a good neighborhood?
You can have my laptop when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.
Hot on the heels of proposed legislation demanding up to two years in prison for those whose electronic speech is meant to "coerce, intimidate, harass, or cause substantial emotional distress to a person;" comes this!
FTC Looks To Regulate Blogger Credibility
Yet another soon-to-be-exploited-against-political-enemies line of legal requirements begins.
Of course, it's benign now...
Give it a few years for someone to realize the potential, add some teeth, and use it very selectively to set some precedent.
Then give it another few years for someone with the audacity or popular support to lay it on thick.
Hat Tip to Tam
FTC Looks To Regulate Blogger Credibility
The Federal Trade Commission is mulling over guidelines that would require bloggers to disclose when they're writing about products they've been given, sponsor's products, or are getting paid to write about a particular product.
Yet another soon-to-be-exploited-against-political-enemies line of legal requirements begins.
Of course, it's benign now...
Give it a few years for someone to realize the potential, add some teeth, and use it very selectively to set some precedent.
Then give it another few years for someone with the audacity or popular support to lay it on thick.
Hello, Mister... "Thing"... We've asked you here today because you've stated on your "Unmoderated Media Credibility Inquiry Form" that you've never accepted gifted- or assisted purchase of- items or services that you've written about directly or indirectly on your unmoderated media format, and you've failed to submit the requisite paperwork to substantiate your claim. To be quite Ernest, how does the federal government know you didn't get these items for free? You've failed to provide receipts for one... "Benchmade 940 BT," which you claim to have purchased when you were 16 years old. The fact that you seem to have several of the same or similar models of pocket knives is highly suspect. Why would you need two of the same product? There is also the highly troubling fact that your car was purchased for thousands of dollars below the manufacturer suggested retail price. If you can't provide proof that every item you've mentioned on your media format were not gifts and were purchased without assistance, your unmoderated media format will be found in noncompliance, and you will have to remove it from public viewing or face severe fines and/or imprisonment. If you object to this judgment, you are welcome to submit to our lengthy and costly arbitration process, but you must understand that during the process your unmoderated media format must be removed from public viewing.
Hat Tip to Tam
California out of money, still pays for PSA: Don't pee in the pool
In my short trip to work, I heard two advertisements on the radio, paid for by California tax dollars.
One was from the California department of boating and waterways, and advised against dumping waste into the ocean. (HINT 1: the ocean is really fucking big! HINT 2: Fish poop in the ocean all the time, go fine them.)
The second advertisement announced, "Don't trash California." And featured a produced ad about "scientists" picking up cigarette butts and putting them in the coffees of the people who littered them in order to determine if the literer considered the liter to be trash. "You wouldn't trash your home, don't trash California."
And somehow, we keep running out of money. Strange considering things are already "cut to the bone." Obviously our legislators cut down to a hard tumor of destructive spending, and thought it was bone.
One was from the California department of boating and waterways, and advised against dumping waste into the ocean. (HINT 1: the ocean is really fucking big! HINT 2: Fish poop in the ocean all the time, go fine them.)
The second advertisement announced, "Don't trash California." And featured a produced ad about "scientists" picking up cigarette butts and putting them in the coffees of the people who littered them in order to determine if the literer considered the liter to be trash. "You wouldn't trash your home, don't trash California."
And somehow, we keep running out of money. Strange considering things are already "cut to the bone." Obviously our legislators cut down to a hard tumor of destructive spending, and thought it was bone.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Quote of I'm about to lose you
I'm about to lose you, as I'm about to drive into tunnel in a canyon on an airplane while hanging up the phone.
~House
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Quote of the wedge
I am convinced that the thin end of the political wedge in America is to be found under your typical California elected official's hat.
~Tam
Arnold: I'm not getting a bailout, I'm just asking the feds for money.
A good article from the LA Times;
Schwarzenegger says he got voters' message 'loud and clear'
Mom said no, so little Arnold ran off to ask Dad.
Holy crap! Not only did the Feds say Arnie could have the money, they said he could only have it if he ignored the will of the people!
Bright spot? Bright spot to let the officials keep up their incredible spending?
They're not asking for a bailout, they're just asking for free money because they need it. Right. And we DESERVE it. You got that? DESERVE!
Your lips are moving, and sound is coming out, but I still don't think you've connected your words to your actions.
Amazing! Change is finally coming to California! They're going to use that four-letter word!
C U T S!
Good work California! Today is the first day of the rest of your fiscal life!
So the WORST CASE scenario includes the horrifying prospect of deporting illegal immigrants who have been jailed for breaking the law? What on earth were the best-case scenario cuts???
Right, so attend an announcement of further regulation and restrictions on the auto and oil industries, and talk about needing to make more money.
The irony was apparently lost on him.
Here's the money quote. Literally. All the heavy hitters were pulled out of the box for this one. Oil, tobacco, alcoholic beverage companies, sports teams, and Hollywood studios all contributed to get these props passed. Money wins votes right?
Not anymore.
1A: 66-34 Failed
1B: 63-37 Failed
1C: 65-35 Failed
1D: 66-34 Failed
1E: 66-34 Failed
1F: 74-26 Passed (no salary increases for legislators during deficits)
These tax increases and financial misdirection didn't just lose, they were soundly beaten.
Change is coming to California. It's going to be harsh medicine, everyone suckling at the teat will make certain of that, but it will get California back on the track to financial responsibility.
Good job, Californians!
UPDATE: Oh, I don't think everything is going to change right now. In fact, I'm positive there will still be more trickery and fake spending cuts before we make it down to the actual meat of the spending. But this is just the beginning.
Schwarzenegger says he got voters' message 'loud and clear'
After California voters Tuesday rejected almost the entire slate of ballot measures he had been championing as a means to fix the budget, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger was in Washington, D.C., seeking to secure federal stimulus money for the state.
Mom said no, so little Arnold ran off to ask Dad.
The steep state budget cuts Schwarzenegger has proposed to address it could violate federal rules against certain spending reductions, costing the state hundreds of millions - if not billions - of dollars federal assistance.
Holy crap! Not only did the Feds say Arnie could have the money, they said he could only have it if he ignored the will of the people!
California remains eligible to receive another $8 billion in stimulus money for its Medicaid program, the one bright spot for state officials after voters on Tuesday soundly defeated five ballot measures
Bright spot? Bright spot to let the officials keep up their incredible spending?
"We've made it very clear that we're not asking for a bailout. We're not asking for any money we don't deserve under the economic stimulus package."
They're not asking for a bailout, they're just asking for free money because they need it. Right. And we DESERVE it. You got that? DESERVE!
Schwarzenegger said he received the voters' message "loud and clear: an overwhelming majority of people told Sacramento, 'Go and do your work yourself, don't come to us with your problems...."
Your lips are moving, and sound is coming out, but I still don't think you've connected your words to your actions.
The "big five" elected leaders -- Schwarzenegger and the legislative chieftains from both houses -- are slated to begin closed-door meetings today upon the governor's return from Washington.
Amazing! Change is finally coming to California! They're going to use that four-letter word!
C U T S!
Good work California! Today is the first day of the rest of your fiscal life!
Worst-case scenarios also call for the release from state prisons of up to 19,000 illegal immigrants, who would face deportation, and the transfer of up to 23,000 other prisoners to county jails.
So the WORST CASE scenario includes the horrifying prospect of deporting illegal immigrants who have been jailed for breaking the law? What on earth were the best-case scenario cuts???
he told reporters after attending the White House announcement on tougher vehicle emission standards. "We need assistance. . . . I didn't come for any bailout. We're going to make the necessary cuts."
Right, so attend an announcement of further regulation and restrictions on the auto and oil industries, and talk about needing to make more money.
The irony was apparently lost on him.
Schwarzenegger helped behind the scenes to garner big contributions for the measure's proponents, who raised about $30 million and outspent foes by nearly 10 to 1.
Here's the money quote. Literally. All the heavy hitters were pulled out of the box for this one. Oil, tobacco, alcoholic beverage companies, sports teams, and Hollywood studios all contributed to get these props passed. Money wins votes right?
Not anymore.
1A: 66-34 Failed
1B: 63-37 Failed
1C: 65-35 Failed
1D: 66-34 Failed
1E: 66-34 Failed
1F: 74-26 Passed (no salary increases for legislators during deficits)
These tax increases and financial misdirection didn't just lose, they were soundly beaten.
Change is coming to California. It's going to be harsh medicine, everyone suckling at the teat will make certain of that, but it will get California back on the track to financial responsibility.
Good job, Californians!
UPDATE: Oh, I don't think everything is going to change right now. In fact, I'm positive there will still be more trickery and fake spending cuts before we make it down to the actual meat of the spending. But this is just the beginning.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
That can't be good
A 4.1 earthquake just hit. Didn't even feel it.
A 4 ain't nothing, but it's still not a good sign that it happened within 48 hours of that 4.7. Four one is a bit high for an aftershock...
Odd.
Hope you have got your kit together...
A 4 ain't nothing, but it's still not a good sign that it happened within 48 hours of that 4.7. Four one is a bit high for an aftershock...
Odd.
Hope you have got your kit together...
I Voted!
And I got a free sticker!
I wasn't sure how I was going to vote on F, but when I saw all the "NO"s all the way down, it seemed a shame to ruin the symmetry. The potential savings of the passage of F did not outweigh the satisfaction of voting NO to the legislatures' "solutions."
Oh yeah, there was almost no one there, which is a good sign for those angry and opposed.
I wish I had a cocktail to enjoy while I listen to the results roll in. Arnie isn't even going to be in the state for the results. They're going down.
I wasn't sure how I was going to vote on F, but when I saw all the "NO"s all the way down, it seemed a shame to ruin the symmetry. The potential savings of the passage of F did not outweigh the satisfaction of voting NO to the legislatures' "solutions."
Oh yeah, there was almost no one there, which is a good sign for those angry and opposed.
I wish I had a cocktail to enjoy while I listen to the results roll in. Arnie isn't even going to be in the state for the results. They're going down.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Earthquake Tips
We had a 4.7 earthquake yesterday (I called it at 4.5, so yeah, I rule.), and our response was little different than usual.
The shaking started while the fiancee was at the table, and I was on the couch playing a game. The initial reaction was the same as always. Nothing. It's Southern California, the earth moves from time to time. It happens.
After a few seconds, the shaking got more violent, a harsh side to side motion. I paused the game to make sure nothing important was going to fall. Then, the shaking got noticeably sharper, and we ducked under the dinner table.
After the shaking stopped we returned to our business.
Just a quick reminder on what FEMA recommends you do DURING an earthquake;
How's that earthquake kit coming along?
One gallon of water per day per person (don't forget pets!)
Canned veggies and meats
Water purifiers (or other form of purification)
Shelter like camping tents in the event your home becomes unlivable
Firearms and the training and practice to use them safely and competently. (What good are your supplies if anyone can just take them away?)
Those are just the basics! There are plenty of other things it would be prudent to store in your earthquake kit, but try not to get overwhelmed. Being 5% prepared makes you better prepared than 90% of people. GET STARTED TODAY!
No, seriously, today.
Go to your local superstore, and some water. ANY water. Getting started is the hardest part, so get it out of the way!
In other news; the $8 rifle rack remains earthquake resilient.
The shaking started while the fiancee was at the table, and I was on the couch playing a game. The initial reaction was the same as always. Nothing. It's Southern California, the earth moves from time to time. It happens.
After a few seconds, the shaking got more violent, a harsh side to side motion. I paused the game to make sure nothing important was going to fall. Then, the shaking got noticeably sharper, and we ducked under the dinner table.
After the shaking stopped we returned to our business.
Just a quick reminder on what FEMA recommends you do DURING an earthquake;
If indoors
* DROP to the ground; take COVER by getting under a sturdy table or other piece of furniture; and HOLD ON on [to the cover] until the shaking stops. If there isn’t a table or desk near you, cover your face and head with your arms and crouch in an inside corner of the building.
* Stay away [and turn away] from glass, windows, outside doors and walls, and anything that could fall, such as lighting fixtures or furniture.
* Stay in bed if you are there when the earthquake strikes. Hold on and protect your head with a pillow, unless you are under a heavy light fixture that could fall. In that case, move to the nearest safe place.
* Use a doorway for shelter only if it is in close proximity to you and if you know it is a strongly supported, loadbearing doorway.
* Stay inside until shaking stops and it is safe to go outside. Research has shown that most injuries occur when people inside buildings attempt to move to a different location inside the building or try to leave.
* Be aware that the electricity may go out or the sprinkler systems or fire alarms may turn on.
* DO NOT use the elevators.
If outdoors
* Stay there.
* Move away from buildings, streetlights, and utility wires.
* Once in the open, stay there until the shaking stops. The greatest danger exists directly outside buildings, at exits, and alongside exterior walls. Many of the 120 fatalities from the 1933 Long Beach earthquake occurred when people ran outside of buildings only to be killed by falling debris from collapsing walls. Ground movement during an earthquake is seldom the direct cause of death or injury. Most earthquake-related casualties result from collapsing walls, flying glass, and falling objects.
If in a moving vehicle
* Stop as quickly as safety permits and stay in the vehicle. Avoid stopping near or under buildings, trees, overpasses, and utility wires.
* Proceed cautiously once the earthquake has stopped. Avoid roads, bridges, or ramps that might have been damaged by the earthquake.
If trapped under debris
* Do not light a match.
* Do not move about or kick up dust.
* Cover your mouth with a handkerchief or clothing.
* Tap on a pipe or wall so rescuers can locate you. Use a whistle if one is available. Shout only as a last resort. Shouting can cause you to inhale dangerous amounts of dust.
How's that earthquake kit coming along?
One gallon of water per day per person (don't forget pets!)
Canned veggies and meats
Water purifiers (or other form of purification)
Shelter like camping tents in the event your home becomes unlivable
Firearms and the training and practice to use them safely and competently. (What good are your supplies if anyone can just take them away?)
Those are just the basics! There are plenty of other things it would be prudent to store in your earthquake kit, but try not to get overwhelmed. Being 5% prepared makes you better prepared than 90% of people. GET STARTED TODAY!
No, seriously, today.
Go to your local superstore, and some water. ANY water. Getting started is the hardest part, so get it out of the way!
In other news; the $8 rifle rack remains earthquake resilient.
Who am I?
There is a knock at your door, it's me.
I say; "Hi! I just mowed your lawn! I'm just looking to collect my fee for the use of my services."
You look at your lawn, note the clippings around the edges, and determine it was indeed mowed. You can't recall how much it needed mowing, but the job was obviously done. "Well, I didn't ask you to do it, but it obviously needed to be done. How much do I owe you?"
I smile and reply cheerfully, "One Thousand dollars." Your jaw drops.
"How could mowing my lawn possibly be worth $1000?"
"Well, I did a lot more than mow the lawn."
"Like what?"
"Well, I did some charity work, mowed some of your neighbor's lawns, painted a house, walked some dogs, babysat, and did a number of other things that I can't specify, but I assure you, they benefited you indirectly."
"And you expect me to pay you for those things?"
"Well, you DID get your lawn mowed."
"But I didn't even ask you to do that! I'm not going to pay you!"
"That wouldn't be a good idea. If you don't pay me, I'll send some of my friends with guns over and they'll take you away from your family and life, and lock you in a room for a few years; then they'll make you pay me anyway."
"You can't do that! I'll call the police!"
"No you won't. My friends ARE the police."
Who am I?
I say; "Hi! I just mowed your lawn! I'm just looking to collect my fee for the use of my services."
You look at your lawn, note the clippings around the edges, and determine it was indeed mowed. You can't recall how much it needed mowing, but the job was obviously done. "Well, I didn't ask you to do it, but it obviously needed to be done. How much do I owe you?"
I smile and reply cheerfully, "One Thousand dollars." Your jaw drops.
"How could mowing my lawn possibly be worth $1000?"
"Well, I did a lot more than mow the lawn."
"Like what?"
"Well, I did some charity work, mowed some of your neighbor's lawns, painted a house, walked some dogs, babysat, and did a number of other things that I can't specify, but I assure you, they benefited you indirectly."
"And you expect me to pay you for those things?"
"Well, you DID get your lawn mowed."
"But I didn't even ask you to do that! I'm not going to pay you!"
"That wouldn't be a good idea. If you don't pay me, I'll send some of my friends with guns over and they'll take you away from your family and life, and lock you in a room for a few years; then they'll make you pay me anyway."
"You can't do that! I'll call the police!"
"No you won't. My friends ARE the police."
Who am I?
Friday, May 15, 2009
Now you can have your phone and eat it too!
I knew it was going to be silly when I set Banana Phone (fast version) as my ringtone, but I didn't realize it was going to instantly elevate my mood every time the phone rang.
I apologize in advance for not picking up my phone immediately.
I apologize in advance for not picking up my phone immediately.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
California legislators begin to sober up
From the LA Times, comes the following straight-down-the-road, just-the-facts-ma'am, "bias? what bias?" article;
Schwarzenegger budget would fire 5,000 workers, release up to 23,000 prisoners
Holy crap! Releasing prisoners? That sounds horrible! We'd better do whatever he says!
Which is probably prudent, because it looks like the propositions are going to be smacked down harder a conservative point of view in an institution of "higher learning."
That's one of the tricks here; these propositions are not so much about cutting funding to Sacramento as they are about starving local governments. See, the Sacramento career politicians are WAY too smart to put ballot measures up that would actually affect them. These are for shuffling funds around, so funds that were voted in for one reason (say, funding mental health facilities), could be moved into the pot of local government tax dollars they usually return to the local governments for projects, funding, etc. The real losers here, will be the local governments. Sacramento will still suffer from the overall shortfall, but they'll see to it the locals are squeezed as much as possible.
Oh dear god! How could they just let them go! That's horrible! We'd better do whatever he says!
Wait... So, he's going to "release" them into federal custody? Wait a minute...
Hey Arnold, wasn't there a politician who said he would do just that as soon as he was elected to help California's budget woes? Who was that politician again? OH YEAH! It was you.
But what about those 23,000 prisoners they're going to release? We can't let that happen! We'd better do whatever he says!
Oh, so they'll be "released" into county jails... Huh. See, to me; that's not the definition of the word "released" at all. I wonder if the LA Times realizes the title of their article may be misleading?
HOLY SHIT! He's cutting workers from non-essential services! I'M SO CONFUSED! I thought that was impossible and inconscionable! You kept saying that you'd cut 10,000 firefighters, policemen, and emergency responders before you'd even THINK of cutting workers from the;
California Division of Recycling
California Legislature Internet Caucus
California Office of Natural Resource Education
California Office of the Ombudsman
California Pollution Control Financing Authority
California Rivers Assessment
California Spatial Information Library
California State Railroad Museum
California Acupuncture Board
California Board of Chiropractic Examiners
California Bureau of Electronic and Appliance Repair
California Commission on Aging
(and over 500 more!!!)
Right, because when your gambling problem gets out of hand, it's time to sell your TV... That'll solve ALL your problems... for a few minutes...
These props are going down, and I hope the rest of the country watches intently as California's legislators realize the keg is dry, and sober the fuck up.
You had better get your family ready...
It's going to be one hell of a hangover.
Schwarzenegger budget would fire 5,000 workers, release up to 23,000 prisoners
Holy crap! Releasing prisoners? That sounds horrible! We'd better do whatever he says!
The governor offered two scenarios. The first was grim, to address a $15.4-billion deficit that finance officials say the state will face even if voters approve a set of ballot measures Tuesday. The second was devastating, intended to close a $21.3 billion gap if the measures fail.
Which is probably prudent, because it looks like the propositions are going to be smacked down harder a conservative point of view in an institution of "higher learning."
Depending on the size of the budget gap, the state would also borrow up to $2 billion from local government...
That's one of the tricks here; these propositions are not so much about cutting funding to Sacramento as they are about starving local governments. See, the Sacramento career politicians are WAY too smart to put ballot measures up that would actually affect them. These are for shuffling funds around, so funds that were voted in for one reason (say, funding mental health facilities), could be moved into the pot of local government tax dollars they usually return to the local governments for projects, funding, etc. The real losers here, will be the local governments. Sacramento will still suffer from the overall shortfall, but they'll see to it the locals are squeezed as much as possible.
...and release up to 19,000 undocumented immigrants from state prisons...
Oh dear god! How could they just let them go! That's horrible! We'd better do whatever he says!
...turning them over to federal authorities.
Wait... So, he's going to "release" them into federal custody? Wait a minute...
Hey Arnold, wasn't there a politician who said he would do just that as soon as he was elected to help California's budget woes? Who was that politician again? OH YEAH! It was you.
But what about those 23,000 prisoners they're going to release? We can't let that happen! We'd better do whatever he says!
Up to 23,000 other state prisoners could be sent to county jails.
Oh, so they'll be "released" into county jails... Huh. See, to me; that's not the definition of the word "released" at all. I wonder if the LA Times realizes the title of their article may be misleading?
In either budget scenario, Schwarzenegger would also lay off 5,000 workers...
HOLY SHIT! He's cutting workers from non-essential services! I'M SO CONFUSED! I thought that was impossible and inconscionable! You kept saying that you'd cut 10,000 firefighters, policemen, and emergency responders before you'd even THINK of cutting workers from the;
California Division of Recycling
California Legislature Internet Caucus
California Office of Natural Resource Education
California Office of the Ombudsman
California Pollution Control Financing Authority
California Rivers Assessment
California Spatial Information Library
California State Railroad Museum
California Acupuncture Board
California Board of Chiropractic Examiners
California Bureau of Electronic and Appliance Repair
California Commission on Aging
(and over 500 more!!!)
...sell the Los Angeles Coliseum, Sports Arena, San Quentin State Prison and other facilities
Right, because when your gambling problem gets out of hand, it's time to sell your TV... That'll solve ALL your problems... for a few minutes...
These props are going down, and I hope the rest of the country watches intently as California's legislators realize the keg is dry, and sober the fuck up.
You had better get your family ready...
It's going to be one hell of a hangover.
Obama Admin. schizophrenic on war on drugs
You put your left foot in!
You put your left foot out!
You put your left foot in!
And you shake it all about!
You put your left foot out!
You put your left foot in!
And you shake it all about!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
BUSH SEEKS TO TAKE CONTROL OF PRIVATE INDUSTRIES!!!
Oh, no, wait, it was Obama, and HOW DARE YOU QUESTION THE GLORIOUS LEADER! HE KNOWS HOW TO RUN PRIVATE BUSINESS BETTER THAN PRIVATE BUSINESS! THAT'S WHY THE BIG THREE AUTO MAKERS ARE DOING SO WELL!
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
Hat Tip to SR
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
Hat Tip to SR
BUSH BLOCKS RELEASE OF PRISONER ABUSE PHOTOS
Oh, no, wait, was Obama, and no one cares.
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
Think this is just an isolated thing? Think Obama really is CHANGING things after Bush? Read more of these posts here and think again.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Lets keep JD in our thoughts and prayers
About 4 hours ago, JD posted the following;
Lets hope he finds his beautiful limited edition Benchmade 940 soon!
(If you saw the knife, you'd understand)
UPDATE: IT'S OK EVERYONE, HE FOUND IT! Thank god!
O GOD MY KNIFE! Where did I drop it?
Lets hope he finds his beautiful limited edition Benchmade 940 soon!
(If you saw the knife, you'd understand)
UPDATE: IT'S OK EVERYONE, HE FOUND IT! Thank god!
Woman King - Iron and Wine
Blackbird claw, raven wing
Under the red sunlight
Long clothesline, two shirtsleeves
Waving as we go by
Hundred years, hundred more
Someday we may see
A woman king
Wristwatch time
Slowin' as she goes to sleep
Black horsefly, lemonade
Jar on the red anthill
Garden worm, cigarette
Ash on the windowsill
Hundred years, hundred more
Someday we may see
A woman king
Sword in hand
Swing at some evil and bleed
Black hoof mare, broken leg
Eye on the shotgun shell
Age old dog, hornet nest
Built in the big church bell
Hundred years, hundred more
Someday we may see
A woman king
Bloodshot eye
Thumb down and starting to weep
Hat Tip to SR
Asthma hit-and-run
Just had an asthma attack out of nowhere. I thought I was done with this...
Three years ago I had a respiratory infection that turned into a dangerous asthma attack, so they gave me medication to treat the inflammation and an inhaler for the asthma. Since about a month after the initial attack, I haven't had to use the inhaler.
Three years later, driving in my car, BAM. Coughing, wheezing, sweating.
I've got a doctor appointment later this month, so I'll add it to the list of maladies I need to ask a physician about. (I've been saving them up!)
Ugh. I really don't like the idea of severe asthma attacks separated by years.
Three years ago I had a respiratory infection that turned into a dangerous asthma attack, so they gave me medication to treat the inflammation and an inhaler for the asthma. Since about a month after the initial attack, I haven't had to use the inhaler.
Three years later, driving in my car, BAM. Coughing, wheezing, sweating.
I've got a doctor appointment later this month, so I'll add it to the list of maladies I need to ask a physician about. (I've been saving them up!)
Ugh. I really don't like the idea of severe asthma attacks separated by years.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Quote of the Oatmeal
I like my women like I like my oatmeal. Brown sugar, and covered in dinosaur facts.
~skor
Red Stripe Weekend
It was Friday night, and I needed a beer.
It is infrequent that I would crave it, being somewhat new to beer.
I got home at about 10:30, and we were off to the local market to buy the makings of dinner, and some beer.
Finding their selection lacking, I went for a 12 pack of Red Stripe. I had had one in the past, and found it downright tolerable, which meant it qualified.
Minutes later, my fiancee and I were knocking them back with ease. It was good beer. Not bitter, smooth, and refreshing. Plus it comes in a funny little bottle!
By the end of the case, I was a little worried about tomorrow.
I don't normally get hangovers, but that might be because I normally drink mixed drinks. In a recent experience, I drank one can of Budweiser, and felt worse the next day than when I had downed the better part of a bottle of vodka.
Red Stripe was new territory, and I wasn't sure what was going to happen.
The next morning I woke up feeling pretty good. Half a glass of water later, I felt great! Red Stripe didn't use cheap alcohol, so no bad effects.
Saturday night, we hung out with some friends, and when we stopped on the way over to pick up some beer, I grabbed another case of Red Stripe. It went over well with everyone else, and went down easily. (Plus it comes in a funny little bottle)
I got quite drunk.
Which isn't really that big of a deal, since I'm a bit of a light weight, but I usually don't care to drink enough beer to get drunk off of it.
We finished the case, and the other beer too, so we did the only sane thing to do in that situation; we stumbled to the store at the corner to buy more Red Stripe!
The next morning, I needed only half a glass of water to kick the slight dehydration, and I was ready to go! We went to stores, played games, saw Star Trek, and generally had a great time.
Red Stripe is the quality stuff, and I'll definitely be picking it up in the future.
Boomershoot 2009
JD arrived at 9 to pick me up. We were going to drive to Idaho instead of fly for a few reasons, mostly TSA idiocy and California gun laws. JD managed to shave a few hundred miles off our trip by playing with our route, but Google still estimated 21 hours for the trip. We found some of the time measurements dubious, and fully expected to arrive hours earlier than estimated.
The route took us north, almost to Sacramento, before turning East through Tahoe into Nevada, then North through a short stretch of highway in the South East corner of Oregon, and into Idaho for a seemingly simple trip North to the town of Orofino.
It was going to be a good road trip. California runs the gamut of biomes; from scorching desert to mountains covered in snow and trees. This trip was going to take us through some of California's more scenic locations. It's easy to forget how beautiful California can be when you're buried in traffic on the 405 or ducking between alleys and one-way streets to find an address.
The trip was going to be long, but JD and I were veterans of long road trips, and honestly, looking forward to the experience. It was going to be about 1300 miles of driving.
The 5 up California took us through city, rural, desert, grape fields, and snowy mountain passes into Nevada; which was less scenic, but 80 cents cheaper on gas. The Oregon trail was kind of odd. Never before have I seen headlights coming at me at 70mph, and not had them pass me for 10 minutes. In the dark this is even creepier. But the sign which read "Next gas 100 miles" prepared us for an interesting experience. Miles into Idaho, we passed Boise and closed in on our destination. The going had been tough, but we were close now, and getting our second wind. At about 300 miles, it was the homestretch, and we were ready to arrive.
Northern Idaho had other ideas.
We had been confused by Google's odd time estimation for what appeared to be a short stretch of our journey, and learned that like many other things on the internet, you don't question Google.
The 65mph highway we were on slowed to a 25mph zone for what could be charitably called a town, and less charitably called a loose congregation of buildings. This wouldn't have been a problem had this not happened an amount of times which went from amusement, to comedy, to tragedy, to despair. To make matters worse; when the road wasn't slowing to 25mph (which was infrequently), it was vanishing into a series of streets that left it to our imagination to rediscover our route, weaving us at slow speeds on severely winding roads on cliff edges without highway markers in pitch black, or thwarting our attempts to overcome with completely closed towns denying us access to restrooms, caffeine, and gas.
My turn driving ended abruptly when, on one of the many twists and turns, my mind wandered to hitchhikers. Coincidentally enough, the next bend revealed two hitchhikers standing on the side of the road! Odd place for them considering the time and location. I blinked, and they disappeared. "Whoa!" I broke suddenly, and pulled over sharply. "OK! Time to switch!"
Neither of us slept. It was hard. VERY hard. We had expected to end our trip, or at least have our destination in sight hours ago, and we had nothing. Just endless, winding road stretching into the black. We were fading fast, and had no indication of progress. We needed to make it in time to go to the media day Joe had put on for the bloggers, but it really didn't look like we were going to make it.
JD summed it up well;
Five hours later, on the edge of a knife, we spotted a service station that had just opened. Desperation gave way to hope, and we resupplied on gas and much-needed caffeine. I asked the proprietor how far to Orofino, having seen no mention of our destination, even though we seemed so close. "Orofino? It's about 25 miles up."
Relief.
Powered by a determination to arrive in time for the Blogger Day, NOS energy drink, and Dragonforce, we arrived as the sun began to blue the sky.
Guitar-wailing heavy metal sounding our victory over the darkness and Northern Idaho's mountain highways.
Orofino emerged suddenly from the trees as a beautiful fishing town split by a wide river and a single bridge across it. The buildings were aged and the valley sided by dense trees. The anachronism of modern cars driving past buildings that looked like 1900's general stores was interesting.
After a bit of flubbing we made it to Trib's place, just in time to catch an hour of sleep before breakfast.
Trib's Place is a quaint bed and breakfast in Orofino, operated by Bob and Kenda Tribble. All they needed were our names, and we were family. Breakfast was delicious and hearty, a real country breakfast, and a good time to get to know my housemates, David who posts at Random Nuclear Strikes, The Packing Rat, and Dave who photographs for Random Nuclear Strikes. Squeaky would be arriving later in the day.
Clicky all images for full size!
California Gun Bloggers; assemble!
Rowdy, official mascot of Trib's Place
At the site, Joe began the media day. He brought us back to the Taj Mahal; a shed full of the makings of the explosives he uses to make what he calls Boomerite. Boomerite is a play on tannerite, an explosive that activates by being shot. Joe's mix was made to be sensitive enough to go off with the impact of almost any supersonic bullet (.22lr to .50 BMG), and includes extra materials to generate an eye-pleasing plume of "smoke" (water vapor). For containers, Joe found nothing works much better than simple white cardboard boxes in 3"x3" or 7"x7". He recounted the history of Boomershoot, from conception to today, and the years and years of trial and error, and small tweaks perfecting his mixture for Boomerite. Getting the mixture to where it is today was obviously no small feat. It was plain for everyone to see that this is a labor of love for him.
Joe at the Taj Mahal.
Joe mixing a cake you shouldn't put in your oven.
Those with ATF approval got to make their own Boomers. Because a bullet is used to trigger the detonation, the mixing of the Boomerite is quite safe so long as no one shoots at you while you're doing it.
Joe didn't need to handle his rifle very much to reveal how sure it was in his hands.
Once the Boomers were made, Joe gave the newly minted recreational bomb-makers options for destruction. "Fireball?" Joe offered.
Yes.
Two 7" targets were used, in an optimal configuration for dispersal of the fuel (two gallons of gasoline), and The Packing Rat was the one to take the shot.
The resulting fireball was spectacular.
The grass fire was not.
In preparation for the trip, I bought some lightweight, waterproof hiking pants from REI. At the time I was slightly bothered by the high price, but as I brought my boot and pant leg down into knee-high burning brush, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the price, and hoping the extra money went toward flame-retardant fabric. Fortunately, it did. My pants had only a few streaks of black soot, and my $20 5.11 8" Strike boots were more than up to the task.
Grass fire extinguished, we called it a day and everyone departed to invade a local eatery.
Honestly, I don't remember much of anything after we left the field. I needed sleep.
The next day we slept in.
We figured after about 36 hours up, we had earned it.
View from the firing line. Boomershooter center-right, the 700 yard berm is right at the tip of the barrel, and the bolt handle is pointing to the 380 yard berm.
After another amazing breakfast, we were on our way to the field of fire day. Field of fire ran concurrently to the precision rifle clinic. You basically got to shoot on site at different steel targets out to 700 yards. It was a good opportunity to scope out the location, zero for the new elevation and approximate temperature, test the wind, and work on your spotter/shooter communication.
The shooter/spotter team was something I never really understood. I thought it was just to have someone with a wide view of the target area when the shooter had a relatively short range of vision. Turns out it's much more involved than that. At long distances, the spotter needs to properly estimate the wind, and time the shot. The spotter also needs to watch the impact or splash and quickly give accurate adjustments to the shooter. The communication was something that took some work, but by the end of the event, we were quick and understandable.
"Shooter ready."
"Send it."
*BANG*
"Maintain elevation, adjust windage two minutes right."
"Shooter ready."
"Favor left... Send it."
*BANG*
"Hit. 6 inches off center at 7 o'clock."
"Got it. One more."
"Spotter ready."
"... Shooter ready."
"Send it."
*BANG*
"Hit. Perfect elevation, two inches right of center."
JD and I took turns spotting and shooting, and were reliably hitting the 20 inch steel targets out to 600 yards. My notebook was full of information on the wind, and approximate drop for different ranges, and reticule sizing information. JD had built some simple benches for us to shoot off of, which was nice, because maintaining the prone position for extended periods of time was not fun. Sitting at the bench, your head was quite upright, and your position was rather stable. I shot off a bipod, which took a little practice. You really need to lock in your position to get stable on a bipod because with too little pressure, the legs bend slightly on firing, and with too much pressure the feet skip forward, and you have to readjust.
Around the middle of the day, the temperature, light, and humidity got to a certain ratio, and I saw something I had always wanted to see; bullet trace.
When a bullet passes through air, it creates a high pressure area in front of, and around it, and creates a slight increase in temperature as the bullet impacts the molecules in the air. The pressure and temperature difference creates enough of a disturbance to bend light slightly. The result is a what appears to be a wavy donut that enters the bottom of your field of view, arcs upward above the target, and drops down into the target. (I call it a "wavy donut," JD calls it the "undulating donut of death." I like his better.)
Seeing this phenomenon with my own eye was really amazing. I knew how rifles worked, I knew the physics involved, I knew the trajectory was parabolic, and I've seen many charts of bullet flight path; but it's still hard for your brain to wrap around the idea of a tiny thing flying through the air at 2800 feet per second. Actually seeing it happen seemed to dispel the magic the non-logical part of my brain was convinced was involved. Squeezing a trigger here, didn't just make something happen there; it began a very simple set of physical principals that ended in a predictable manner that I could view with my eye.
Plus, it was wicked cool.
Joe said that these flowers grew in the Boomershoot field for generations.
Nearing the end of the day, we were all given three Boomers (two three inchers, and one seven incher), and spray paint to distinguish them from the others. We set them up at 380 yards, returned to the line, and eagerly waited for the range to go hot.
It took about 10 seconds of shooting before the first Boomer went off, and then, more explosions trickled in. JD took out his .223 boltie for these targets, and rezeroed for the range in three shots, and blew all three of his targets with three more. He was quite pleased. He started spotting for me, and I started sucking.
My seven incher was somehow a dud. Of course, we didn't realize this until I had become quite flustered apparently hitting it to no effect, and we saw other people making definite hits to no effect. By then, I was disconcerted and upset, which are bad things to be when you're trying to hit a three inch by three inch target at almost 400 yards. I danced around my Boomers for boxes AND BOXES of ammo. I was on a mission, and I wasn't going to let things like trigger control, breath control, and flinch get in my way. (*sigh*) I managed to hit one, but it felt like luck, and I didn't relish the hit. It took a while before I realized I was too hyped up to hit anything, and just stopped. JD recalled calling my shot a miss left, watching me adjust my scope, and impact in the exact same place. I had Boomer fever, and I couldn't hit a damn thing.
Thankfully, the cease fire was called after the staccati of booms stopped for about a minute, and I was left to contemplate my failure while Joe and his team prepped for the "high intensity cleanup." The cleanup consisted of gathering all the unexploded ordinance, setting the firing line at a scant 25 yards, and finishing the job. We had brought our ARs in preparation, and the night before, had removed the screws and lugs that the state of California required. Idaho was happy to have more trained, responsible, law-abiding people with un-neutered AR-15s, and we were happy to oblige.
JD, Packing Rat, and I helped David and Dave clean up the smaller items from under the Random Nuclear Strikes canopy as people made their way down to the new firing line, and relocated the Boomers to the new range. David, a veteran of Boomershoot, had a radio on the Boomershoot frequency, and we chatted while we waited for them to make the final call to the line.
*BOOM*
We turned to look at the line. That was probably a test.
*BOOM* *BOOM* *BA-BOOM*
Crap.
We rushed to the cars, and drove down to the new line. My AR was already uncased from a quick function test in the back, so I grabbed it and three mags, loaded it, checked the safety, and carried it muzzle down, one handed, to the line. As I walked, I had a nagging feeling that I was doing something wrong. I had the gun safety on, finger was off the trigger, muzzle in a safe direction, I wasn't running or walking at an unsafe speed, so everything seemed OK, but something still felt off. As I approached the line, I realized that there was no real way I could enter the line. I was out of phase with everyone, and that wasn't right. One of Joe's staff approached me with urgency, and asked if I had a case for my rifle.
Shit. That's what I fucked up.
One of Joe's rules was to keep guns inside their cases until they were within two feet of the line. I was breaking this rule. That's why I felt wrong.
The staff member offered to hold my rifle while I got my case, and returned. The walk wasn't too far, only about 200 yards, but it felt longer because I got to think about how Joe invites all these people from all over America, and tries so hard to maintain an atmosphere of safety around an event with guns and explosives, and I was one of those people, screwing it all up. I realized that I was probably going to miss the cleanup, and should have been bummed, but I was too busy kicking myself for breaking the rules.
I returned with my case sheepishly, and the staff member kindly gave me a deserved refresher on the rules.
A cease fire was called. I and a few others who had not been ready for the cleanup to start had gathered on the far end of the line. In what should have been an unsurprising move, Joe brought out some more Boomers for us to shoot, and set us up with our own cleanup. Joe has made accommodations in the past, and struck me as a genuinely nice guy, so I shouldn't have been surprised; but it was still nice of him.
With my AR in my hands, I was much more confident in my ability to nail Boomers. I had built this simple lefty carbine out of Stag parts almost three years ago. In that time, dry firing, handling, and shooting has made it very sure in my hands. It wasn't yet an extension of my body, but it was getting close.
I had 90 rounds in three mags to hit Boomers with, and I was ready to go when they signaled to open fire.
My first shot established my holdover, almost a 12 o'clock hold, and the rest were just booms. I had three incidences of flinch that I caught just before firing; each time it was a shoulder press. I was a little excited. My eyes would track the next Boomer, my body would snap the rifle in line with my eye, my finger would squeeze, and the target would disappear in a puff of white smoke and a rain of dirt clots. *BOOM* Track. Squeeze. *BOOM* Track. Squeeze. *BOOM* This was too easy for me. After the first mag I decided to lay off, and returned to the targets that seemed to be duds to practice rapid shots on target. I'd shoot the Boomer off the stake, and make it kick up into the air on a high shot, or hit it as it lay on its side on the ground. Surprisingly, and few of these blew up after repeated shots. This was a lot of fun. Joe had said that some people like to blow up Boomers at long range, while others prefer to "pick grass and dirt out of their teeth." I could understand why. By the end, my cheeks hurt from smiling so severely.
Returning from the field, looking down into Orofino.
At dinner that night, I again marveled at how well we got along. Strangers we were not, but I still wasn't used to getting along so well with people I had technically just met. Plus I'm a bit anti-social anyways. We had four California gun bloggers in the same place, and talked about (what else?) California gun laws. Apparently there are some very well placed, very intelligent, very capable people working up a game plan to restore California's gun rights, and by precedent, the rest of the states (and certain districts) that used Ca gun control as a model. What has your state done to fight gun control lately?
That night we all had a little show and tell with our guns. What they were, how we came to them, what we meant for them, and on and on and on. Get four gunnies in a room to talk about their guns, and you'll never get them to shut up! Dave had brought a bore scope, and we eagerly checked eachother's bores, having never used one of the devices before. It was very interesting to see the similarities and differences up close like that. We all laughed when I compared this to some kind of Gunnie slumber party, talking about our guns, dryfiring them, checking eachother's bores. I don't think any of us had hair long enough to braid though.
Breakfast at Trib's Place. So good, I had to run to get the camera to take this picture before I started eating.
The second day of field fire, and the day before Boomershoot, played out a bit better. For me, there was more focus on getting more precision at ranges we could easily work with than hitting 20 inch targets at 600 yards.
The problem was; shooting 20 inch steel targets at 600 yards was not the same as shooting 7 inch Boomers at 600 yards. Particularly at that range, without high-powered optics, we were not always able to see the exact impact on the target. Most of the time at that range, all we could tell was that the bullet didn't make a "splash" in the dirt around the target. It was a hit; but was it low left, high right, or dead center? At least with the Boomers, we knew for sure when we connected.
David was kind enough to let me sight in his his scoped 7-30 Waters pistol at 380 yards. The recoil was surprisingly light. To me, it felt even lighter than some .44 magnums I'd fired. It was pretty damn cool to hit gongs at almost 400 yards with a pistol. I gotta get me one of these.
Leading up to Boomer time, I had been focusing on staying relaxed. The shooting bench and my seat was at a bit of an odd angle, so that when I leaned on the corner of the bench, it bent slightly, likely throwing off my shot at the last moment.
I was under no illusion that shooting at these ranges was simple, but I was still amazed how involved this process was.
I recalled that part of this event was Joe wanting people to learn how to shoot at long distances. Until now, I had shoot off a concrete bench, with sandbags, in perfect Californian weather, at 20 inch steel targets at 600 yards without problems. Now, I was shooting at an upward angle, in winds that shifted in direction and speed, in temperatures that varied from the shooting location to the target location, at a 5000 foot elevation, at targets almost three times smaller than at the range, under pressure!
This was some real-world shooting, and it would not tolerate even the slightest mistakes.
When the Boomer time came around again, I was was much slower, but was still having problems. I kept "wounding" them; shooting out the stake, or the corner of the box, causing the explosives to leak out the bottom. I was still frustrated, but I was thinking more clearly. Bothered by the increasing flex of the bench, I picked up my rifle and moved to an empty patch of grass to shoot prone. Few things are more stable than the ground. I also took a long time calming down for my shot. The mirage was worse closer to the ground, but the temperature/sun/wind shifted, and gave me a clear shot to my target. With Dave's help spotting, I walked my shots into two Boomers with little difficulty. I knew I had the skills, I just needed to keep things simple.
That night was the dinner and charity raffle. Apparently Boomershoot had gotten so big, they had to change venues to accommodate the people. The raffle tickets were for a good cause, so I bought $20 worth, and put them mostly into the Ultimak AK mount bucket. I really liked the way they made those mounts, and had been wanting one for a while. Just before the dinner started, they talked more about the charity, and the good work Soldiers' Angels did for the people who fought for this country, and I couldn't help but donate a bit more without accepting raffle tickets. They deserve so much.
Joe spoke to us all about Boomershoot, and the people that go into making things happen. I was really impressed how many people were involved, from all walks of life, from all over the country, almost all volunteers, working to make sure everyone had fun and was safe. I guess people want to help when someone's truly passionate about something. Especially something they do for others. They really are an amazing group of people.
Sunday, the day of the actual event, Boomershoot kicked off with a boom. The opening ceremony included a fireball, and the anvil launch. The fireball had some issues, but the anvil launch was amazing. It was impressive to see something that heavy fly so far into the air. It was another one of those "this shouldn't be, yet I'm looking at it" moments I had already had with bullet trace earlier. This really was an amazing event.
Anvils away!
JD was kind enough to let me borrow his electronic earmuffs (now I badly want a pair), to make our spotter/shooter communication a bit better. This was really when our communication was spot on. The "um"s and "ah"s were gone, and all that was left was lean, informational speech. I was doing better, but JD was smoking them. He was running a Savage 12 Target rifle, and the 30 inch barrel was definitely giving him more velocity to buck the wind. The weather was probably the best it had been in the last three days. There were a few spots of drizzle that ended as quickly as they came, and the wind was mild with the occasional spike. The only way to tell the wind had shifted was when you got a flier. You'd be spotting, watching the shots close in on the target, and one goes wild. There were a few like that where I just told JD to do the exact same hold, and the next shot was a hit. The wind is a tricky mother.
One target in particular refused to be hit. It was a 7" target at 620 yards, with an "L" painted on it and a red dot in the corner. No matter what we did, our shots would just slide off it, and into the dirt around it. We became fixated. We had to get the L. Shot after shot, 2MOA left, 1MOA low, just over the left shoulder, one inch off at 4 o'clock, dropped it in behind it at perfect windage, just right of the right shoulder, then 2 MOA right. It was maddening. We hated L. It was my turn, and I had my holdover and had just begun my trigger squeeze, when a boomer in front of it went off. A thick cloud of white drifted in front of my target. I had already been fixed and had started my trigger squeeze, so I just pulled through, firing into the smoke, and was rewarded with a clear explosion which appeared right behind the last. "Hit!" "YEAH!" We laughed and high-fived and eventually returned to the boomers. Except... The L was still there.
"OK, time for a new target. How about... Wait... It was a red L with a red dot in the corner, right?"
*JD peers through his scope intently*
"..."
"..."
"It's still there, isn't it..."
"Uh... yeah..."
Somehow, I managed to shoot wild, and hit another nearby target. The timing was perfect, JD saw the shot go into the smoke, it was just at the wrong target. The L stood, defiant.
That loss was a bit much, so we decided to switch targets and began hitting them with some regularity.
I'll get you, L. Someday...
After the L debacle, I needed a little pick-me-up. So I switched to a prone position and took out a few boomers at 380 yards (not enough of an incline to look up at the 600 yard targets from the ground). A few satisfying explosions later, my smile had returned.
Later, JD and The Packing Rat began a duel over a three inch target at 700 yards that refused to be hit. The playful trash-talk that took place added to the challenge. Initially, I think the idea was to lob them out there to see how hard it was, and then leave it, but after coming so close a few times, the competition started getting tense. After quite a bit of ammo had been used up on the target, JD decided he was only going to give it three more rounds. After the first two, he held up the last and said, "This is the last one, and the only one I'm going to need!" He then loaded it into the rifle, adjusted his hold from the last two shots, and took his shot.
The high powered spotting scope I had switched to for their duel magnified the three inch target at 700 yards 30 times, which was enough for me to see his bullet fly up severely, out of my field of view, and just barely see it drop down into the target, turning it into a puff of white smoke that took two full seconds to get the sound of the explosion to our ears.
If I was embellishing this story, I probably would make it more believable. It happened exactly like that; and it was impressive.
Amazing shot.
Boomershoot ended as quickly as it began. It only felt like a few hours, but it was most of the day. I guess time flies when you're blowing shit up.
As we cleaned up our shooting area, and broke down the shade and tables when the "high intensity cleanup" started downrange. I guess this was part of the "pay" for the people who helped Joe with this event.
I walked up the hill to the trashcans, and stopped on the tall berm to watch for a moment. I listened to the rifle reports and supersonic cracks echoing against the berm, and enjoyed the time between the sudden eruption of white smoke and the sound of the explosion.
This is what America is all about. Regular, hard working people, getting together to have fun in whatever way pleased them. There aren't very many other countries in the world that would let their citizens own, essentially, the same guns their military uses, practice shooting at what could be considered head-sized targets at hundreds of yards, and mix explosives in a shed for fun.
Boomershoot was a celebration of our freedoms.
A celebration of trust between a government and its citizens.
A celebration of challenge and skill.
A celebration of us.
I kind of got lost in the moment and realized I was shirking my take-down duties, so I returned to help pack the truck.
Before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye. As we were packing up the car, we noticed two deer chewing on leaves in the oversized backyard. The beauty of this place had not lessened.
I looked down at Rowdy who regarded the deer lazily, then rolled over to get me to scratch his belly.
Boomershoot was about making things blow up from really far away; but for me it was more about long range shooting in less than ideal conditions, being among like-minded people, beautiful Orofino, small-town hospitality, and time away from everything.
An amazing trip to an amazing place to meet amazing people, see amazing sights, and blow up amazing things.
That's my kind of vacation.
The route took us north, almost to Sacramento, before turning East through Tahoe into Nevada, then North through a short stretch of highway in the South East corner of Oregon, and into Idaho for a seemingly simple trip North to the town of Orofino.
It was going to be a good road trip. California runs the gamut of biomes; from scorching desert to mountains covered in snow and trees. This trip was going to take us through some of California's more scenic locations. It's easy to forget how beautiful California can be when you're buried in traffic on the 405 or ducking between alleys and one-way streets to find an address.
The trip was going to be long, but JD and I were veterans of long road trips, and honestly, looking forward to the experience. It was going to be about 1300 miles of driving.
The 5 up California took us through city, rural, desert, grape fields, and snowy mountain passes into Nevada; which was less scenic, but 80 cents cheaper on gas. The Oregon trail was kind of odd. Never before have I seen headlights coming at me at 70mph, and not had them pass me for 10 minutes. In the dark this is even creepier. But the sign which read "Next gas 100 miles" prepared us for an interesting experience. Miles into Idaho, we passed Boise and closed in on our destination. The going had been tough, but we were close now, and getting our second wind. At about 300 miles, it was the homestretch, and we were ready to arrive.
Northern Idaho had other ideas.
We had been confused by Google's odd time estimation for what appeared to be a short stretch of our journey, and learned that like many other things on the internet, you don't question Google.
The 65mph highway we were on slowed to a 25mph zone for what could be charitably called a town, and less charitably called a loose congregation of buildings. This wouldn't have been a problem had this not happened an amount of times which went from amusement, to comedy, to tragedy, to despair. To make matters worse; when the road wasn't slowing to 25mph (which was infrequently), it was vanishing into a series of streets that left it to our imagination to rediscover our route, weaving us at slow speeds on severely winding roads on cliff edges without highway markers in pitch black, or thwarting our attempts to overcome with completely closed towns denying us access to restrooms, caffeine, and gas.
My turn driving ended abruptly when, on one of the many twists and turns, my mind wandered to hitchhikers. Coincidentally enough, the next bend revealed two hitchhikers standing on the side of the road! Odd place for them considering the time and location. I blinked, and they disappeared. "Whoa!" I broke suddenly, and pulled over sharply. "OK! Time to switch!"
Neither of us slept. It was hard. VERY hard. We had expected to end our trip, or at least have our destination in sight hours ago, and we had nothing. Just endless, winding road stretching into the black. We were fading fast, and had no indication of progress. We needed to make it in time to go to the media day Joe had put on for the bloggers, but it really didn't look like we were going to make it.
JD summed it up well;
combine lack of service stations with constant speed changes, exhaustion and treacherous roads that looked to drop off into a Lovecraftian abyss at 0-dark-30, and you have two somewhat peeved bloggers
Five hours later, on the edge of a knife, we spotted a service station that had just opened. Desperation gave way to hope, and we resupplied on gas and much-needed caffeine. I asked the proprietor how far to Orofino, having seen no mention of our destination, even though we seemed so close. "Orofino? It's about 25 miles up."
Relief.
Powered by a determination to arrive in time for the Blogger Day, NOS energy drink, and Dragonforce, we arrived as the sun began to blue the sky.
Guitar-wailing heavy metal sounding our victory over the darkness and Northern Idaho's mountain highways.
Orofino emerged suddenly from the trees as a beautiful fishing town split by a wide river and a single bridge across it. The buildings were aged and the valley sided by dense trees. The anachronism of modern cars driving past buildings that looked like 1900's general stores was interesting.
After a bit of flubbing we made it to Trib's place, just in time to catch an hour of sleep before breakfast.
Trib's Place is a quaint bed and breakfast in Orofino, operated by Bob and Kenda Tribble. All they needed were our names, and we were family. Breakfast was delicious and hearty, a real country breakfast, and a good time to get to know my housemates, David who posts at Random Nuclear Strikes, The Packing Rat, and Dave who photographs for Random Nuclear Strikes. Squeaky would be arriving later in the day.
Clicky all images for full size!
California Gun Bloggers; assemble!
Rowdy, official mascot of Trib's Place
At the site, Joe began the media day. He brought us back to the Taj Mahal; a shed full of the makings of the explosives he uses to make what he calls Boomerite. Boomerite is a play on tannerite, an explosive that activates by being shot. Joe's mix was made to be sensitive enough to go off with the impact of almost any supersonic bullet (.22lr to .50 BMG), and includes extra materials to generate an eye-pleasing plume of "smoke" (water vapor). For containers, Joe found nothing works much better than simple white cardboard boxes in 3"x3" or 7"x7". He recounted the history of Boomershoot, from conception to today, and the years and years of trial and error, and small tweaks perfecting his mixture for Boomerite. Getting the mixture to where it is today was obviously no small feat. It was plain for everyone to see that this is a labor of love for him.
Joe at the Taj Mahal.
Joe mixing a cake you shouldn't put in your oven.
Those with ATF approval got to make their own Boomers. Because a bullet is used to trigger the detonation, the mixing of the Boomerite is quite safe so long as no one shoots at you while you're doing it.
Joe didn't need to handle his rifle very much to reveal how sure it was in his hands.
Once the Boomers were made, Joe gave the newly minted recreational bomb-makers options for destruction. "Fireball?" Joe offered.
Yes.
Two 7" targets were used, in an optimal configuration for dispersal of the fuel (two gallons of gasoline), and The Packing Rat was the one to take the shot.
The resulting fireball was spectacular.
The grass fire was not.
In preparation for the trip, I bought some lightweight, waterproof hiking pants from REI. At the time I was slightly bothered by the high price, but as I brought my boot and pant leg down into knee-high burning brush, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the price, and hoping the extra money went toward flame-retardant fabric. Fortunately, it did. My pants had only a few streaks of black soot, and my $20 5.11 8" Strike boots were more than up to the task.
Grass fire extinguished, we called it a day and everyone departed to invade a local eatery.
Honestly, I don't remember much of anything after we left the field. I needed sleep.
The next day we slept in.
We figured after about 36 hours up, we had earned it.
View from the firing line. Boomershooter center-right, the 700 yard berm is right at the tip of the barrel, and the bolt handle is pointing to the 380 yard berm.
After another amazing breakfast, we were on our way to the field of fire day. Field of fire ran concurrently to the precision rifle clinic. You basically got to shoot on site at different steel targets out to 700 yards. It was a good opportunity to scope out the location, zero for the new elevation and approximate temperature, test the wind, and work on your spotter/shooter communication.
The shooter/spotter team was something I never really understood. I thought it was just to have someone with a wide view of the target area when the shooter had a relatively short range of vision. Turns out it's much more involved than that. At long distances, the spotter needs to properly estimate the wind, and time the shot. The spotter also needs to watch the impact or splash and quickly give accurate adjustments to the shooter. The communication was something that took some work, but by the end of the event, we were quick and understandable.
"Shooter ready."
"Send it."
*BANG*
"Maintain elevation, adjust windage two minutes right."
"Shooter ready."
"Favor left... Send it."
*BANG*
"Hit. 6 inches off center at 7 o'clock."
"Got it. One more."
"Spotter ready."
"... Shooter ready."
"Send it."
*BANG*
"Hit. Perfect elevation, two inches right of center."
JD and I took turns spotting and shooting, and were reliably hitting the 20 inch steel targets out to 600 yards. My notebook was full of information on the wind, and approximate drop for different ranges, and reticule sizing information. JD had built some simple benches for us to shoot off of, which was nice, because maintaining the prone position for extended periods of time was not fun. Sitting at the bench, your head was quite upright, and your position was rather stable. I shot off a bipod, which took a little practice. You really need to lock in your position to get stable on a bipod because with too little pressure, the legs bend slightly on firing, and with too much pressure the feet skip forward, and you have to readjust.
Around the middle of the day, the temperature, light, and humidity got to a certain ratio, and I saw something I had always wanted to see; bullet trace.
When a bullet passes through air, it creates a high pressure area in front of, and around it, and creates a slight increase in temperature as the bullet impacts the molecules in the air. The pressure and temperature difference creates enough of a disturbance to bend light slightly. The result is a what appears to be a wavy donut that enters the bottom of your field of view, arcs upward above the target, and drops down into the target. (I call it a "wavy donut," JD calls it the "undulating donut of death." I like his better.)
Seeing this phenomenon with my own eye was really amazing. I knew how rifles worked, I knew the physics involved, I knew the trajectory was parabolic, and I've seen many charts of bullet flight path; but it's still hard for your brain to wrap around the idea of a tiny thing flying through the air at 2800 feet per second. Actually seeing it happen seemed to dispel the magic the non-logical part of my brain was convinced was involved. Squeezing a trigger here, didn't just make something happen there; it began a very simple set of physical principals that ended in a predictable manner that I could view with my eye.
Plus, it was wicked cool.
Joe said that these flowers grew in the Boomershoot field for generations.
Nearing the end of the day, we were all given three Boomers (two three inchers, and one seven incher), and spray paint to distinguish them from the others. We set them up at 380 yards, returned to the line, and eagerly waited for the range to go hot.
It took about 10 seconds of shooting before the first Boomer went off, and then, more explosions trickled in. JD took out his .223 boltie for these targets, and rezeroed for the range in three shots, and blew all three of his targets with three more. He was quite pleased. He started spotting for me, and I started sucking.
My seven incher was somehow a dud. Of course, we didn't realize this until I had become quite flustered apparently hitting it to no effect, and we saw other people making definite hits to no effect. By then, I was disconcerted and upset, which are bad things to be when you're trying to hit a three inch by three inch target at almost 400 yards. I danced around my Boomers for boxes AND BOXES of ammo. I was on a mission, and I wasn't going to let things like trigger control, breath control, and flinch get in my way. (*sigh*) I managed to hit one, but it felt like luck, and I didn't relish the hit. It took a while before I realized I was too hyped up to hit anything, and just stopped. JD recalled calling my shot a miss left, watching me adjust my scope, and impact in the exact same place. I had Boomer fever, and I couldn't hit a damn thing.
Thankfully, the cease fire was called after the staccati of booms stopped for about a minute, and I was left to contemplate my failure while Joe and his team prepped for the "high intensity cleanup." The cleanup consisted of gathering all the unexploded ordinance, setting the firing line at a scant 25 yards, and finishing the job. We had brought our ARs in preparation, and the night before, had removed the screws and lugs that the state of California required. Idaho was happy to have more trained, responsible, law-abiding people with un-neutered AR-15s, and we were happy to oblige.
JD, Packing Rat, and I helped David and Dave clean up the smaller items from under the Random Nuclear Strikes canopy as people made their way down to the new firing line, and relocated the Boomers to the new range. David, a veteran of Boomershoot, had a radio on the Boomershoot frequency, and we chatted while we waited for them to make the final call to the line.
*BOOM*
We turned to look at the line. That was probably a test.
*BOOM* *BOOM* *BA-BOOM*
Crap.
We rushed to the cars, and drove down to the new line. My AR was already uncased from a quick function test in the back, so I grabbed it and three mags, loaded it, checked the safety, and carried it muzzle down, one handed, to the line. As I walked, I had a nagging feeling that I was doing something wrong. I had the gun safety on, finger was off the trigger, muzzle in a safe direction, I wasn't running or walking at an unsafe speed, so everything seemed OK, but something still felt off. As I approached the line, I realized that there was no real way I could enter the line. I was out of phase with everyone, and that wasn't right. One of Joe's staff approached me with urgency, and asked if I had a case for my rifle.
Shit. That's what I fucked up.
One of Joe's rules was to keep guns inside their cases until they were within two feet of the line. I was breaking this rule. That's why I felt wrong.
The staff member offered to hold my rifle while I got my case, and returned. The walk wasn't too far, only about 200 yards, but it felt longer because I got to think about how Joe invites all these people from all over America, and tries so hard to maintain an atmosphere of safety around an event with guns and explosives, and I was one of those people, screwing it all up. I realized that I was probably going to miss the cleanup, and should have been bummed, but I was too busy kicking myself for breaking the rules.
I returned with my case sheepishly, and the staff member kindly gave me a deserved refresher on the rules.
A cease fire was called. I and a few others who had not been ready for the cleanup to start had gathered on the far end of the line. In what should have been an unsurprising move, Joe brought out some more Boomers for us to shoot, and set us up with our own cleanup. Joe has made accommodations in the past, and struck me as a genuinely nice guy, so I shouldn't have been surprised; but it was still nice of him.
With my AR in my hands, I was much more confident in my ability to nail Boomers. I had built this simple lefty carbine out of Stag parts almost three years ago. In that time, dry firing, handling, and shooting has made it very sure in my hands. It wasn't yet an extension of my body, but it was getting close.
I had 90 rounds in three mags to hit Boomers with, and I was ready to go when they signaled to open fire.
My first shot established my holdover, almost a 12 o'clock hold, and the rest were just booms. I had three incidences of flinch that I caught just before firing; each time it was a shoulder press. I was a little excited. My eyes would track the next Boomer, my body would snap the rifle in line with my eye, my finger would squeeze, and the target would disappear in a puff of white smoke and a rain of dirt clots. *BOOM* Track. Squeeze. *BOOM* Track. Squeeze. *BOOM* This was too easy for me. After the first mag I decided to lay off, and returned to the targets that seemed to be duds to practice rapid shots on target. I'd shoot the Boomer off the stake, and make it kick up into the air on a high shot, or hit it as it lay on its side on the ground. Surprisingly, and few of these blew up after repeated shots. This was a lot of fun. Joe had said that some people like to blow up Boomers at long range, while others prefer to "pick grass and dirt out of their teeth." I could understand why. By the end, my cheeks hurt from smiling so severely.
Returning from the field, looking down into Orofino.
At dinner that night, I again marveled at how well we got along. Strangers we were not, but I still wasn't used to getting along so well with people I had technically just met. Plus I'm a bit anti-social anyways. We had four California gun bloggers in the same place, and talked about (what else?) California gun laws. Apparently there are some very well placed, very intelligent, very capable people working up a game plan to restore California's gun rights, and by precedent, the rest of the states (and certain districts) that used Ca gun control as a model. What has your state done to fight gun control lately?
That night we all had a little show and tell with our guns. What they were, how we came to them, what we meant for them, and on and on and on. Get four gunnies in a room to talk about their guns, and you'll never get them to shut up! Dave had brought a bore scope, and we eagerly checked eachother's bores, having never used one of the devices before. It was very interesting to see the similarities and differences up close like that. We all laughed when I compared this to some kind of Gunnie slumber party, talking about our guns, dryfiring them, checking eachother's bores. I don't think any of us had hair long enough to braid though.
Breakfast at Trib's Place. So good, I had to run to get the camera to take this picture before I started eating.
The second day of field fire, and the day before Boomershoot, played out a bit better. For me, there was more focus on getting more precision at ranges we could easily work with than hitting 20 inch targets at 600 yards.
The problem was; shooting 20 inch steel targets at 600 yards was not the same as shooting 7 inch Boomers at 600 yards. Particularly at that range, without high-powered optics, we were not always able to see the exact impact on the target. Most of the time at that range, all we could tell was that the bullet didn't make a "splash" in the dirt around the target. It was a hit; but was it low left, high right, or dead center? At least with the Boomers, we knew for sure when we connected.
David was kind enough to let me sight in his his scoped 7-30 Waters pistol at 380 yards. The recoil was surprisingly light. To me, it felt even lighter than some .44 magnums I'd fired. It was pretty damn cool to hit gongs at almost 400 yards with a pistol. I gotta get me one of these.
Leading up to Boomer time, I had been focusing on staying relaxed. The shooting bench and my seat was at a bit of an odd angle, so that when I leaned on the corner of the bench, it bent slightly, likely throwing off my shot at the last moment.
I was under no illusion that shooting at these ranges was simple, but I was still amazed how involved this process was.
I recalled that part of this event was Joe wanting people to learn how to shoot at long distances. Until now, I had shoot off a concrete bench, with sandbags, in perfect Californian weather, at 20 inch steel targets at 600 yards without problems. Now, I was shooting at an upward angle, in winds that shifted in direction and speed, in temperatures that varied from the shooting location to the target location, at a 5000 foot elevation, at targets almost three times smaller than at the range, under pressure!
This was some real-world shooting, and it would not tolerate even the slightest mistakes.
When the Boomer time came around again, I was was much slower, but was still having problems. I kept "wounding" them; shooting out the stake, or the corner of the box, causing the explosives to leak out the bottom. I was still frustrated, but I was thinking more clearly. Bothered by the increasing flex of the bench, I picked up my rifle and moved to an empty patch of grass to shoot prone. Few things are more stable than the ground. I also took a long time calming down for my shot. The mirage was worse closer to the ground, but the temperature/sun/wind shifted, and gave me a clear shot to my target. With Dave's help spotting, I walked my shots into two Boomers with little difficulty. I knew I had the skills, I just needed to keep things simple.
That night was the dinner and charity raffle. Apparently Boomershoot had gotten so big, they had to change venues to accommodate the people. The raffle tickets were for a good cause, so I bought $20 worth, and put them mostly into the Ultimak AK mount bucket. I really liked the way they made those mounts, and had been wanting one for a while. Just before the dinner started, they talked more about the charity, and the good work Soldiers' Angels did for the people who fought for this country, and I couldn't help but donate a bit more without accepting raffle tickets. They deserve so much.
Joe spoke to us all about Boomershoot, and the people that go into making things happen. I was really impressed how many people were involved, from all walks of life, from all over the country, almost all volunteers, working to make sure everyone had fun and was safe. I guess people want to help when someone's truly passionate about something. Especially something they do for others. They really are an amazing group of people.
Sunday, the day of the actual event, Boomershoot kicked off with a boom. The opening ceremony included a fireball, and the anvil launch. The fireball had some issues, but the anvil launch was amazing. It was impressive to see something that heavy fly so far into the air. It was another one of those "this shouldn't be, yet I'm looking at it" moments I had already had with bullet trace earlier. This really was an amazing event.
Anvils away!
JD was kind enough to let me borrow his electronic earmuffs (now I badly want a pair), to make our spotter/shooter communication a bit better. This was really when our communication was spot on. The "um"s and "ah"s were gone, and all that was left was lean, informational speech. I was doing better, but JD was smoking them. He was running a Savage 12 Target rifle, and the 30 inch barrel was definitely giving him more velocity to buck the wind. The weather was probably the best it had been in the last three days. There were a few spots of drizzle that ended as quickly as they came, and the wind was mild with the occasional spike. The only way to tell the wind had shifted was when you got a flier. You'd be spotting, watching the shots close in on the target, and one goes wild. There were a few like that where I just told JD to do the exact same hold, and the next shot was a hit. The wind is a tricky mother.
One target in particular refused to be hit. It was a 7" target at 620 yards, with an "L" painted on it and a red dot in the corner. No matter what we did, our shots would just slide off it, and into the dirt around it. We became fixated. We had to get the L. Shot after shot, 2MOA left, 1MOA low, just over the left shoulder, one inch off at 4 o'clock, dropped it in behind it at perfect windage, just right of the right shoulder, then 2 MOA right. It was maddening. We hated L. It was my turn, and I had my holdover and had just begun my trigger squeeze, when a boomer in front of it went off. A thick cloud of white drifted in front of my target. I had already been fixed and had started my trigger squeeze, so I just pulled through, firing into the smoke, and was rewarded with a clear explosion which appeared right behind the last. "Hit!" "YEAH!" We laughed and high-fived and eventually returned to the boomers. Except... The L was still there.
"OK, time for a new target. How about... Wait... It was a red L with a red dot in the corner, right?"
*JD peers through his scope intently*
"..."
"..."
"It's still there, isn't it..."
"Uh... yeah..."
Somehow, I managed to shoot wild, and hit another nearby target. The timing was perfect, JD saw the shot go into the smoke, it was just at the wrong target. The L stood, defiant.
That loss was a bit much, so we decided to switch targets and began hitting them with some regularity.
I'll get you, L. Someday...
After the L debacle, I needed a little pick-me-up. So I switched to a prone position and took out a few boomers at 380 yards (not enough of an incline to look up at the 600 yard targets from the ground). A few satisfying explosions later, my smile had returned.
Later, JD and The Packing Rat began a duel over a three inch target at 700 yards that refused to be hit. The playful trash-talk that took place added to the challenge. Initially, I think the idea was to lob them out there to see how hard it was, and then leave it, but after coming so close a few times, the competition started getting tense. After quite a bit of ammo had been used up on the target, JD decided he was only going to give it three more rounds. After the first two, he held up the last and said, "This is the last one, and the only one I'm going to need!" He then loaded it into the rifle, adjusted his hold from the last two shots, and took his shot.
The high powered spotting scope I had switched to for their duel magnified the three inch target at 700 yards 30 times, which was enough for me to see his bullet fly up severely, out of my field of view, and just barely see it drop down into the target, turning it into a puff of white smoke that took two full seconds to get the sound of the explosion to our ears.
If I was embellishing this story, I probably would make it more believable. It happened exactly like that; and it was impressive.
Amazing shot.
Boomershoot ended as quickly as it began. It only felt like a few hours, but it was most of the day. I guess time flies when you're blowing shit up.
As we cleaned up our shooting area, and broke down the shade and tables when the "high intensity cleanup" started downrange. I guess this was part of the "pay" for the people who helped Joe with this event.
I walked up the hill to the trashcans, and stopped on the tall berm to watch for a moment. I listened to the rifle reports and supersonic cracks echoing against the berm, and enjoyed the time between the sudden eruption of white smoke and the sound of the explosion.
This is what America is all about. Regular, hard working people, getting together to have fun in whatever way pleased them. There aren't very many other countries in the world that would let their citizens own, essentially, the same guns their military uses, practice shooting at what could be considered head-sized targets at hundreds of yards, and mix explosives in a shed for fun.
Boomershoot was a celebration of our freedoms.
A celebration of trust between a government and its citizens.
A celebration of challenge and skill.
A celebration of us.
I kind of got lost in the moment and realized I was shirking my take-down duties, so I returned to help pack the truck.
Before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye. As we were packing up the car, we noticed two deer chewing on leaves in the oversized backyard. The beauty of this place had not lessened.
I looked down at Rowdy who regarded the deer lazily, then rolled over to get me to scratch his belly.
Boomershoot was about making things blow up from really far away; but for me it was more about long range shooting in less than ideal conditions, being among like-minded people, beautiful Orofino, small-town hospitality, and time away from everything.
An amazing trip to an amazing place to meet amazing people, see amazing sights, and blow up amazing things.
That's my kind of vacation.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
You want to argue over constitutionality?
I was talking to my better half about how unconstitutional [fill in the blank, dude] was, when I realized something.
When you have an appointee to a position nonexistent in the constitution, to a bureau unmentioned in the constitution; it's kind of silly to argue over whether or not the appointee's actions are constitutional.
Have you ever been lost, consulted your map, and realized you weren't even on it?
Where the fuck are we?
How did we get here?
Who is going to get us back on the map?
When you have an appointee to a position nonexistent in the constitution, to a bureau unmentioned in the constitution; it's kind of silly to argue over whether or not the appointee's actions are constitutional.
Have you ever been lost, consulted your map, and realized you weren't even on it?
Where the fuck are we?
How did we get here?
Who is going to get us back on the map?
Friday, May 08, 2009
Mosin Nagant Recoil
I'm tired of reading about people complaining about Mosin Nagant recoil, so I did a few searches on YouTube...
Make sure you watch the last video.
Sierra Kitten w/ Mosin Nagant
Girl with an M44
Deanna Mosin Nagant
My Girl shooting a 91/30 Mosin Nagant
Mosin Nagant M91/30 Shooting 1
GIRL SHOOTS M44 7.62MM X 54R!!!!
My 8 year old son shoots Mosin Nagant 7.62x54r for 1st time
Make sure you watch the last video.
Sierra Kitten w/ Mosin Nagant
Girl with an M44
Deanna Mosin Nagant
My Girl shooting a 91/30 Mosin Nagant
Mosin Nagant M91/30 Shooting 1
GIRL SHOOTS M44 7.62MM X 54R!!!!
My 8 year old son shoots Mosin Nagant 7.62x54r for 1st time
Drunk, irresponsible, immature college student with a gun halts home invasion and rape.
What?
He wasn't drunk, irresponsible, OR immature? He just saved lives?
But the people who keep opposing campus carry told me he was!
Try to spread this one around. You're not going to get this story from the legacy media.
He wasn't drunk, irresponsible, OR immature? He just saved lives?
But the people who keep opposing campus carry told me he was!
Try to spread this one around. You're not going to get this story from the legacy media.
Did everyone enjoy the 7 billion dollar bonfire?
I hope so.
But didn't President Obama say that this was an investment in the future of this country? He said that he expected some of these bailouts to come back and earn us more money in the future. I mean, sure, we all were a little wary of the idea of viewing it as an investment, because if it was a viable investment, private money would have been all over it. But we need to get behind our President, because we're in a crisis. Not like Iraq, 9/11, or Iran working toward nukes, this is a REAL crisis, so we need to get behind our President, no matter party affiliation. We need to march lock-stop behind him. Who cares where he's leading us? He's the agent of change this country needs! He's the glorious leader! He knows better than us mere citizens. He is our better.
Feds reach into your yard sale
Gee. Nice yard sale ya got there.
Be a shame if someone... shut it down...
What's that? A childrens' book?
I'm sure you've already paid for the mandatory lead testing required for the sale of any childrens' products. Otherwise I might have to shut this little party down, and fine you a few G's per childrens' item I find.
Who could argue with the logic? It's "for the children"? Anyone who disagrees with this law is obviously a child molester.
Proving once again that the eight scariest words in the English language are;
We're from the government, we're here to help!
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Targetting your workout ... to your whole body.
Take two dumbbells, and one exercise ball.
Sit on the exercise ball with the weights in your hands, and walk your feet forward. As you roll off the ball, lean back and keep your butt off the ground, until the ball is only touching your upper shoulders, neck, and head.
Your knees should be bent at a 90 degree angle, and most of your torso should be parallel to the ground. Your only support should be at your feet, and the ball at your shoulders.
Now push the weights upward as you would if you were laying on a bench, but only do one at a time.
If you're doing it right, your thighs, abs, sides, back, and chest should be flexing to keep your body horizontal. Pushing up one weight at a time throws off your balance slightly, and causes your sides and abs to work to keep you balanced. For a harder workout, bring your feet closer together so you need to use your muscles more for balance.
Sit on the exercise ball with the weights in your hands, and walk your feet forward. As you roll off the ball, lean back and keep your butt off the ground, until the ball is only touching your upper shoulders, neck, and head.
Your knees should be bent at a 90 degree angle, and most of your torso should be parallel to the ground. Your only support should be at your feet, and the ball at your shoulders.
Now push the weights upward as you would if you were laying on a bench, but only do one at a time.
If you're doing it right, your thighs, abs, sides, back, and chest should be flexing to keep your body horizontal. Pushing up one weight at a time throws off your balance slightly, and causes your sides and abs to work to keep you balanced. For a harder workout, bring your feet closer together so you need to use your muscles more for balance.
Not eating less, just less calories
I've been taking lunch to work for a while now, and noticed my waistline has been responding. The weird thing was that I thought I was eating more than I would normally have eaten from a fast food place.
Then it occurred to me that it wasn't the amount of food, it was the quality.
One volume of food, in the form of a (dinosaur shaped) pb&j sandwich, cheez-its, snack pack applesauce and pudding, probably had half the calories of the exact same volume of food from the local fast food place.
I'm full (actually, I usually can't even finish all the lunch), it's cheaper, and it's better for me. Win, win, freaking-win.
The little things, and all that.
(It's bittersweet when you realize that losing love handles means printing more.)
Then it occurred to me that it wasn't the amount of food, it was the quality.
One volume of food, in the form of a (dinosaur shaped) pb&j sandwich, cheez-its, snack pack applesauce and pudding, probably had half the calories of the exact same volume of food from the local fast food place.
I'm full (actually, I usually can't even finish all the lunch), it's cheaper, and it's better for me. Win, win, freaking-win.
The little things, and all that.
(It's bittersweet when you realize that losing love handles means printing more.)
DELUXE HUGS $2
BECAUSE FREE HUGS ARE FOR HIPPIES!
CAPITALISM ROCKS!
Just kidding, this is still funny.
Well, capitalism still does rock.
CAPITALISM ROCKS!
Just kidding, this is still funny.
Well, capitalism still does rock.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Dial 911 and get hung up on, berated, cursed at, and arrested!
I thought "Dial 911 and die" was a convincing enough statement.
17 year old curses on an emergency call to 911, and is repeatedly hung up on, berated, cursed back at, and arrested.
Hat Tip to Arms and the Law
17 year old curses on an emergency call to 911, and is repeatedly hung up on, berated, cursed back at, and arrested.
Hat Tip to Arms and the Law
Quote of the "Corporate Taxes" in air quotes
The only entity that can pay taxes, ultimately, is the individual consumer. "Corporate Taxes" are a myth. If the government wants to raise a million dollars to buy diapers for needy babies, and charges the Great Big Diaper Co. a $1,000,000 tax for the purpose, then Great Big Diaper Co. is going to have to lay off $500,000 worth of employees and raise their diaper prices by $500,000. (Unlike the government, GBDC can't just print money.)
Now you have more needy babies and diapers are more expensive. Good job, government!
~Tam
This, of course, presumes that the government INTENDS on getting more people less dependent upon it.
They'll "help" you all the way to their teat.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
The Wonder Pets save the day!
For future reference; try not to drink too much and pass out with the teevee on at a friend's house.
Weirdest dream ever.
I dreamt that The Wonder Pets overturned GCA '34, and we were allowed full auto firearms, short barreled rifles, and silencers without a tax stamp and paperwork.
Hell, if hearts and minds keep changing, maybe they will make that episode.
"Little Timmy loves to shoot cans with his dad, but the gun is so loud it hurts his ears even with earplugs in! Lets defeat the Gun Control Act of 1934, and get Timmy all the silencers he wants!"
Weirdest dream ever.
I dreamt that The Wonder Pets overturned GCA '34, and we were allowed full auto firearms, short barreled rifles, and silencers without a tax stamp and paperwork.
Hell, if hearts and minds keep changing, maybe they will make that episode.
"Little Timmy loves to shoot cans with his dad, but the gun is so loud it hurts his ears even with earplugs in! Lets defeat the Gun Control Act of 1934, and get Timmy all the silencers he wants!"
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Dear Gerber,
Send my thanks to the knife designing team for the STL 2.0.
It was refreshing to see a new offering from you guys that didn't make me sigh, pat it on the head reassuringly and say; "The important thing is that you tried."
It was refreshing to see a new offering from you guys that didn't make me sigh, pat it on the head reassuringly and say; "The important thing is that you tried."
Nightmares and kitchen doors
I just awoke from a bad dream. I used to have nightmares of monsters and horrible things, but I'm not afraid of them anymore. Since I got serious about self defense and the defense of my family and loved ones, my nightmares are situations in for which I fail to prepare.
In this case, it was an evening like any other, joking with my fiance as we got ready to go somewhere, when there was a knock at our kitchen door (none exists in real life). I walked past the front door, and around the corner into the kitchen. I was just going to take a peek through the peephole, I think we were expecting someone.
I looked through the peephole, and saw blackness, it had been blocked. At that moment, around the corner, the front door opened, and someone entered the short hall after the door.
The front door area was where I kept weapons handy, and it was between the kitchen and bedroom my fiance was getting ready in.
Simple misdirection put me in a place where I wasn't prepared, and my expectations of the situation kept me mentally unprepared.
I could see the shifting bulk of the intruder in the reflection of a glass picture frame on the far wall. I got a debilitatingly powerful pit in my stomach. He had split us up, and I was unarmed. I had failed so completely that the dream ended there. Nothing more needed to be implied. I knew what happened next, and didn't need to be shown. I wasn't afraid of horrible things; just not being able to stop them from happening.
I awoke with the same debilitating pit in my stomach. As I lay awake contemplating the dream, I realized that the AR that rode bedside was in the closet, awaiting reattachment its flashlight, and the XD was just assigned another duty. While I never really sat down and thought; "Going just a few days unprepared should be ok." I know that's exactly what I was thinking. I was unarmed and didn't even realize it. Well, part of me realized it.
In reality, all the ports of entry to our home have reliable firearms nearby. The kitchen door was imagined. My lack of preparedness as I slept was not.
In this case, it was an evening like any other, joking with my fiance as we got ready to go somewhere, when there was a knock at our kitchen door (none exists in real life). I walked past the front door, and around the corner into the kitchen. I was just going to take a peek through the peephole, I think we were expecting someone.
I looked through the peephole, and saw blackness, it had been blocked. At that moment, around the corner, the front door opened, and someone entered the short hall after the door.
The front door area was where I kept weapons handy, and it was between the kitchen and bedroom my fiance was getting ready in.
Simple misdirection put me in a place where I wasn't prepared, and my expectations of the situation kept me mentally unprepared.
I could see the shifting bulk of the intruder in the reflection of a glass picture frame on the far wall. I got a debilitatingly powerful pit in my stomach. He had split us up, and I was unarmed. I had failed so completely that the dream ended there. Nothing more needed to be implied. I knew what happened next, and didn't need to be shown. I wasn't afraid of horrible things; just not being able to stop them from happening.
I awoke with the same debilitating pit in my stomach. As I lay awake contemplating the dream, I realized that the AR that rode bedside was in the closet, awaiting reattachment its flashlight, and the XD was just assigned another duty. While I never really sat down and thought; "Going just a few days unprepared should be ok." I know that's exactly what I was thinking. I was unarmed and didn't even realize it. Well, part of me realized it.
In reality, all the ports of entry to our home have reliable firearms nearby. The kitchen door was imagined. My lack of preparedness as I slept was not.
Friday, May 01, 2009
California's (lack of) future.
JD is one of the boots on the ground in the California higher education system.
He doesn't deal in numbers or years-old results like many others. He's there the moment a high school graduate steps bleary eyed into the real world, and he gets to test their aptitude.
JD is on the front lines in the battle against ignorance
Bad news.
Ignorance is winning.
And it's not the students' fault.
It's the system.
JD is angry.
Very angry.
Even if by magic we were able to fix California's infrastructure woes, what good is it as a state when the people who live in it can't handle simple English or moderate math?
Good fucking luck to all of us. We're going to need it.
He doesn't deal in numbers or years-old results like many others. He's there the moment a high school graduate steps bleary eyed into the real world, and he gets to test their aptitude.
JD is on the front lines in the battle against ignorance
Bad news.
Ignorance is winning.
And it's not the students' fault.
It's the system.
JD is angry.
Very angry.
Even if by magic we were able to fix California's infrastructure woes, what good is it as a state when the people who live in it can't handle simple English or moderate math?
Good fucking luck to all of us. We're going to need it.
Quote of the Rationed
Roberta is tired of people complaining about how services are "rights."
It's not long, read the whole thing.
Hat tip to Tam
Here's the deal: just as you are not entitled to free food, free housing a free car or even free potable water, you are not entitled to free health care; each of those things is the result of someone else's labor and if you claim it is yours by right, you are claiming a right to enslave the people who provide it to you. Some friend of the workin' man you are!
IMO, one of the things wrong with the high price of health care is the overhead involved; an awful lot of that appears to be CYA and direct costs involved in malpractice insurance, thanks in part to a quirk of our legal system that turns physicians, hospitals and related businesses into a sort of low-risk pinata filled with money.
It's not long, read the whole thing.
Hat tip to Tam
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