Category Archives: Administrivia

Soldier’s Sunday

m-ammermanIt’s a good day to reflect on the days past, the fellows served with, the ones still serving, the families still waiting.

The families whose wait never ends.

Another SF guy got whacked recently. None of the papers really noted it; his hometown did, that’s it. Remember when every new combat death was “a Grim Milestone” in the press? Well, since their boy was sworn in, those milestones got a lot less grim — or a lot less newsworthy — in the somewhat suspicious judgment of the Acela Corridor monoculture that would tell you what’s important.

You know, like made-up “rape culture” on college campuses that, on examination, turn out to be some of the safest real estate in the entire nation, with the exception of cop bars and gun shows. The “rapes” turn out, when investigated, to be a flowering of vestigial shame after bad mating judgment, in most cases.

And then there’s the protesters, largely pasty-white well-off bums chanting “Black Lives Matter!” as if anybody thought they didn’t, all bent out of shape that the police have killed some black criminals. And in New York, blocking an accident victim’s livesaving path to Bellevue, the trauma center best suited to treat his traumatic leg amputation.

He was a black guy, we’re told. It’s Black Lives that matter, not this one lower-case black life. We fail to see the distinction.

It’s interesting that the more the trust fund babies at expensive colleges whine about being oppressed, the less clue they have about the real oppressed in the world — and the real liberators setting them free.

Like that SF guy who got whacked this month. The guys from his unit and from his SFQC class remember him as a great guy. His name was Matt Ammerman, he was from Noblesville, IN, and he served in the 7th Special Forces Group. He had two combat tours in the infantry before going SF as a communicator (18E). This was his first tour in SF. He was 29 and is survived by his wife Emily, his brother Anthony, and his parents. Aside from local news and veterans’ or military sites, not a peep about him.

Or the several other SF soldiers who sustained wounds in the same action in Zabul Province. They’re not useful to those infected with the Acela virus, so they treat them as if they don’t exist.

Sorry We Misled You about “Eaten Alive”

eaten alive2We did flag you, our readers, to this TV show last month, saying:

Words fail, so here’s the quote: “In Eaten Alive, naturalist and wildlife filmmaker Paul Rosolie aims to be devoured by an anaconda while in a custom-built snake-proof suit.” Snake-proof suits and hokey religions are a poor substitute for a blaster at your side, kid.

Well, the show ran, the verdict’s in, and it was a phony, empty fraud. Rosolie turns out to be a charlatan, who at the end of two hours was not “devoured by an anaconda.”

Today says… it sucked.

And Twitchy collects Twitter blowback, the main point of which is… it sucked.

It did provide some scope for making mock of the channel and the show. Like this:

Eaten Alive

And that’s about all.

The Discovery Channel and Paul Rosolie better live long and prosper on the checks for this one, because when your reputation is “lying, cheating, self-aggrandizing huckster,” the checks are going to come along less frequently.

Again, we apologize sincerely to anyone who watched this craptabulous show because we linked it. We promise never to link the Discovery Channel again.

Sunday Slackin’

Some days we sits and thinks, and some days we just sits.

This has been one of those Type B days so far.

We scarcely posted anything Saturday, which wasn’t entirely intentional, but is just a consequence of life at this time of year, between holidays, family, weather, and projects old and new all getting demanding all at once.

We Give Thanks

On this, our day of national thanksgiving, we give thanks for many things:

For God and Family.

For freedom and prosperity.

For the loyalty of a dog — who sleeps a foot away from this desk, because two feet is too far — and the warmth of a good house.

For the health to shovel the snow, less than two years after acquiring a cardiologist and a bunch of junk to keep the ticker ticking.

For the cold steel of a sword, the walnut stocks of a gun, the skill to use them, and the incredible blessing of a new generation of warriors that let us sheath the sword, rack the rifle, and retire, secure in the comfort that the ramparts are watched, the enemies are confounded, the frail are protected, and the fallen are avenged.

For the good fortune that lets us cook a turkey when so many in the world may have to skip their daily rice ball.

For the humanity that makes us wish to spread the freedom to all with the will to take it up, and anon, join us in the prosperity. Turkeys for all!

And, for good friends and family, here, far, and connected only by these novelties of electronic communication.

For all these things, we give humble and unworthy thanks.



For a look at how a friendly foreign nation developed a tradition of Thanksgiving, read this article by Keith Nightingale at Small Wars Journal. Since being posted last week, it’s become one of the most popular posts at SWJ. I don’t know Nightingale, but a friend of mine speaks well of him.

Sunday in Suburbia

The Menace of the Oak Leaves™ continues to spread its evil across the Manor’s grounds, and all the local landscapers’ workers have just quit, because Bernstein/Sondheim (“Everything free in America!”). So we have to gird our loins for battle with the beastly things.

This is the exact moment that the mower, the mechanized maneuver element of our anti-leaf combined-arms task force, chooses to blow blue smoke.

So the task that was looking like a rapid blitzkrieg is now looking more like an exhausting, enervating stalemate.

Will no one rid us of these troublesome leaves?

Sunday Starts Submerged

… as in, in the hole.

We had the following posts planned for Saturday that you haven’t seen yet:

  • The Underground & Auxiliary: a Case Study
  • When guns are outlawed…
  • Saturday Matinee 046: …
  • That was the week that was: 2014 Week 46

We may get to some of ‘em today. We may not. And we may or may not get Monday’s stuff all set up like we like to do. Just the way it is on this day, 16 November, 2014 AD.

We know that not everybody loves the TW3 posts, but we find them useful for blog management, and a good way to call attention to some back stories that didn’t get a lot of hits for whatever reason. The Matinees are just time consuming, as the Underground Case Study has been.

Sunday Shivering

It’s not really that cold. But there’s something that feels cold in the air, if that makes any sense at all. So we sit, and we shiver, and we watch the news crawl across our screens, and wonder if this is how it felt in August 1914, or August 1939 for that matter.

We still have not put up a Saturday Matinee or a TW3 for the last week (Actually we’re way behind on TW3s). But we have good news on that front: Week 45’s review (of Fury) is complete, and will be posted sometime today. We may even do the TW3, even though we have a work document to write.

Meanwhile, we’re shivering here. Why?

What a great position to be in!

Some weeks, we’re hard up for a Wednesday Weapons Website of the Week. Not this week. We have to choose one from about five of them! Tech stuff, skills stuff, historical stuff, it’s all good. Maybe we’ll queue them up for the next five weeks and go on a drinking binge or something!

Sawdusting Sunday

So, the Gunsmithing Lab needs to move a few feet that way, and new fluorescent fixtures have to be installed above their new location. The stuff in the stacks over there is a mixed bag of old DVD cases from a family member’s failed software venture, and boxed-up music CDs from a friend’s failed album project. (We have the master tapes around here somewhere, too).

And about 12′ x 4′ of furring and pegboard needs to go up behind the gunsmithing bench and machine tools to hold “stuff”.

And a new 6′ x 3′ bench is going there where the gunsmithing area was. That’s the bench Van’s recommends for an RV-12 kit construction area. We’ll build it here until just before the components are too big to fit out the bulkhead. Then it moves to a hangar at one of the airfields nearby for final assembly. Duration of project: 2-3 years.

It’s going to be… interesting… maintaining sterility/segregation between the gun works and the plane works. And there’s also some exercise equipment undergoing overhaul (OK, let’s be honest, it’s down here but the overhaul’s been stalled for a year and we have another rower in the gym already).