Monday, February 26, 2007

Dammit, dammit, dammit

Vicente Ignacio Beltran-Moreno a/k/a "Nacho" is a Mexican citizen, migrant worker, illegal immigrant and aspiring alleged kidnapper.

Seems that ol' Nacho wasn't content with doing them there "jobs that Americans don't want to do" and decided to supplement his income with a wee bit of kidnapping for ransom.

So, El Sleazo apparently snatched a random 13-year-old kid from a bus-stop at gun-point -- in front of twelve to fifteen other children -- drove him out into the boonies and taped him to a tree.

Our dashing illegal immigrant then drove back into town, intent on writing and delivering the perfect ransom note.

Fortunately, the laddie had more than a bit of grit and by way of a safety pin and his teeth, got loose and found himself a farmer with a cell-phone, thus putting a bit of a monkey-wrench into the cunningly-laid plans of Senor Beltran-Moreno.

While the finer points of Shanghai-ing For Profit may have slipped by El Nacho, he seems to be smart enough to realize that hanging around probably wasn't in his best interests and seems to have gotten into the wind -- most probably headed back for Ye Olde Homeland.

As you might have guessed, peace officers throughout the South-East and South are somewhat anxious to have a bit of a chat with the Senor.

Unfortunately, most recent SHAGs* have El Sleazo well over the border by now.

Is it too much to ask that we have enough control over our own sodding borders to be able to at least make it somewhat difficult for a wanted fleeing felon to cross our borders? Maybe actually make it a challenge to escape the Long Arm of the Law by border-jumping, instead of a routine "ho-hum" occurrence?



*Scientific Hairy-Arsed Guess

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Meditations on forgiveness

I was always under the impression that if someone wished to be forgiven for a trespass, that person first had to redress the wrongs that he (or she) committed. In other words, a person had to prove that he (or she) was truly contrite, through actions, before that person could be forgiven.

To the best of my knowledge, merely apologizing for a wrong is not grounds for forgiveness -- except in family matters.

An apology is a start on contrition, but it's not the be-all/end-all act itself -- unless you are six years old and apologizing to your mother.

Alas, this seems to no longer be the case.

I have no earthly idea how many critters I have run across in my Law Enforcement career who have attempted to tell me -- some most eloquent in their fervor -- that they apologize for whatever it was they did that got me involved.

And it's not just criminal critters. Bill Clinton's apology for lying about his affair with Ms. Lewinsky was most poetic; and a casual search can find any number of politicians apologizing for various and sundry excesses.

Entertainers are another group who can frame the most beautiful of apologies for the most sordid of acts.

Maybe I'm cynical, but I always have to wonder if they're apologizing for the act, or for getting caught.

More often than not in these modern days, I get the impression that folks are sorry they got caught in the act, rather than being sorry for the act.

The old saw about leopards and their spots is still as viable today as it ever was.

All of which brings us to Mr. Jim Zumbo.

Ted Nugent -- and others -- believe that since Mr. Zumbo has issued an apology he should be welcomed back into the fold. That Mr. Zumbo is "upgraded".

Folks, an apology is simply words. Nothing more. And until your actions prove them, the words, "I'm sorry" mean less than a container of warm rodent expectorant.

Deeds, not words, lead to redemption. Deeds. I get enough pretty pillow promises from politicians, movie stars and their ilk; I am not interested in hearing more words.

When Mr. Zumbo begins performing his acts of contrition, then -- and only then -- will I even consider forgiving his trespass.

Until such time as performs such deeds his words -- no matter how practiced, nor rehearsed, nor eloquent they be -- are merely the promises of a leopard as regards his spots, or the words of a man who is sorry he got caught.

So. Until I start seeing some acts on Mr. Zumbo's part that demonstrate to me -- through deeds -- that he is truly repentant, there shall be no forgiveness on my part.


Thus endeth the lesson.


Saturday, February 24, 2007

One year ago today

I wrote this:

Happy Birthday to me.

As a birthday present to myself, I have
decided to enter the 21st century and gt my very own


We'll see how this works. I had intended to
use this blog as a backup to the stories I post at,, and

I will, of course, offer the occasional de
rigeur snarky comments and rants.


We'll have to see how it


One year, 373 posts and something over 270,000 visitors later -- here we are.

I say "something over" because I was blogging for four months before I finally bribed someone to hook me up to SiteMeter.

All-in-all, I'm very pleased with my little blog, and I'm looking forward to another year of stories, recipes, snark, drink mixes and advice.

I'd like to thank my Gentle Readers and all those confused souls who linked to this blog -- bless your hearts.

Now. The gentle whiff of applesauce cake and three-alarm structure fire has hinted that my cake is ready, so I'm going to go grab a fire extinguisher and have some birthday cake.

See y'all tomorrow.


Friday, February 23, 2007

Mindset, mindset, mindset

Long time readers of these little scribblings will know that I believe that each person has only one weapon available to them -- and that is the human brain. Anything else -- guns, knives, baseball bats, whatever -- are only tools.

My Gentle Readers also know that I also believe that you deal with your critters with whatever tools are handy.

A Costa Rican mugger has learned this lesson the hard way.

SAN JOSE, Costa Rica (Reuters) - A group of U.S. tourists, including a former Marine, killed a Costa Rican mugger by breaking his neck after he pulled a gun on them in a Caribbean port, a local police official said on Thursday.

The cruise ship passengers told police they jumped on Wagner Segura, 20, to defend themselves when he pointed a .38 caliber revolver at them near the Caribbean port of Limon on Wednesday, and somehow snapped his neck, regional police director Luis Hernandez said.

Segura died instantly and two other unidentified thieves, one of whom was armed with a knife, fled the scene, Hernandez said.

"One of the tourists was a former Marine and he was probably the one who broke (Segura's) neck," Hernandez said. "His neck was completely snapped."

No charges will be filed against the tourists because police viewed the incident as an act of self-defense. Police questioned and released the group, which rejoined the cruise and left Cost Rica.

The Americans were passengers aboard the Carnival cruise ship Legend. They got off their tour bus to take photos in a notoriously rough neighborhood a short drive from Limon.

After the attack, they put Segura's body on their bus and found a police officer in Limon to report the incident.
© Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved

The part that we should take firmly to heart was not mentioned in the preceding story, but is mentioned in the next.

SAN JOSE, Costa Rica An American senior citizen traveling in Costa Rica killed an alleged mugger with his bare hands, inspiring his traveling companions to fight back against two other assailants.

Police say the Americans were defending themselves and no charges will be filed. The Americans were traveling on a Carnival cruise and have already left the country.

The man who killed his assailant is about 70 and retired from the military. Police in Limon (lee-MOHN') say he put a 20-year-old in a head lock and broke his clavicle after three men armed with a knife and a gun held up their bus during an outing.

The other men fled when the 12 senior citizens aboard the bus started defending themselves during the attack Wednesday.

Afterward, the tourists drove the suspect to the Red Cross, where he was declared dead, apparently of asphyxiation.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

70 years old. And took out a twenty year-old critter armed with a pistol -- bare-handed.

I don't want to hear any more whinging from middle-aged folks about how they're helpless if they don't have access to their pistols or knives.

If a 70 year-old Marine can take out a pistol-armed critter with nothing but grit and bare hands, then anyone can take out a pistol-armed critter with chairs, typewriters, power-strips, MasterLocks, CD disks and anything else that might be handy.

Tip of the Stetson for the story goes to Gentle Reader Max Drive.


Thursday, February 22, 2007

Where's the love?

By way of Michelle Malkin, we learn of a young critter who just might be half-a-bubble off of plumb.

Seems like this young man has a serious case of the red-arse aimed at pro-Iraq-war types, Bush supporters, Israel, Republicans, conservatives and ... apparently ... sheep.

Allegedly, this paragon of the anti-war left tracked down a College Republican through the Facebook site, entered his home by impersonating a military recruiter, then began verbally badgering the inhabitants of the house, finally escalating up to physical violence.

Two of the housemates turfed him out the door, at which time our Hearless Fero forced his way back into the house and more fisticuffs ensued, people got heaved off porches, police were called, Critter hung around, gave The Fuzz an ample serving of grief and got hisself hooked up.


Where to start?

First off -- and I am completely and totally serious about this -- why was the critter ambulatory when the police showed up? As soon as he forced his way back into that house: he became a Chew Toy. Bought and paid for. There were three college boys in that apartment, and betwixt the three of them, Mr. Critter should have experienced his Very Own Personal Old School Beat-Down.

He should have left that scene in a mop or a zip-lock baggie instead of handcuffs.

Secondly -- this is one of the reasons why I tend to err on the side of anonymity and paranoia.

Thirdly -- I'm not that anonymous. Where is the love for the 'Dog? I've been a good boy -- when do I get a Leftist home invader of my very own? I do so hate to see a perfectly good violent Leftist go to waste, yet none of the little sods so much as wave a fist within a block of me.

It's not exactly fair, you know.


Object lesson

Most folks, upon seeing this video, come to the conclusion that this is a prime example of a victim who has lost situational awareness.

I don't think so. Let us take a look at the body language here.

First, the critter. At the :08 mark, see that side-long glance? His intended victim is awkwardly balanced and his hands will be no use. That's targeting.

At the :10 mark, watch him as he checks the rest of the store for possible Good Samaritans. At :17 he takes a deep steadying breath -- probably unconsciously. This is his body signalling that he has made his decision.

At :21 he rocks away from his victim, storing the most energy possible for a single burst of maximum energy, then accelerates through his victim ...

0:23 -- One shot: Game, Set, Match.

Kind of obvious, isn't it? Folks will say that a blind man could have seen this one coming -- and they're right.

So, how did the victim wind up (metaphorically speaking) on the platter with mint sauce?

I don't think it was a lack of situational awareness. The victim knew the critter was there, and I think the hindbrain of the victim was yelling, "Red Alert!" -- and I'm pretty sure that the victim over-rode his subconscious.

Take another look at the video, except this time we will look at the victim.

See the way the victim is standing? He's standing square on to the counter -- like most people would. However -- and this is Interesting Point #1 -- he keeps his head turned away from the critter. He is doing everything possible to avoid eye-contact with the critter.

Interesting Point #2 -- look at the right arm of the victim. It's firmly planted between himself and the critter. It's a psychological barrier -- a shield -- that he probably doesn't realize he's erecting.

You know what I think? I think the reptile hindbrain of the victim was screaming warnings at him up to the point that the lights went out. And I think he consciously over-rode the signals -- either to avoid the appearance of rudeness, or out of a desire not to appear racist.

The victim walked into the McDonalds, and the critter followed him. Probably starting before they even reached the door, the victim is getting Bad Signals from his instincts.

Victim thinks, "I'm in a lighted area, in plain view of God, the teller and anyone driving by -- what could happen?" He then over thinks the situation, and decides that he's Stereotyping, and That's Just Wrong.

So, at the counter, the victim avoids eye-contact with the critter -- he doesn't want to give offense by appearing arrogant or dominant, so he keeps his face averted.

His hindbrain, on the other paw, doesn't give a flying wheeze about giving insult and moves the arm -- a body-part the conscious isn't concerned with -- into a barrier.

For all the good that it did him.

No, this wasn't a failure of Situational Awareness. The victim was fully aware of the critter and the situation -- he just consciously chose to disregard what his Awareness was telling him.

Shame, that.


Wednesday, February 21, 2007


1 cup baking sugar
1 cup spring water

2 1/2 cups of orange juice, with lime, tangerine and any other citrus juices you can find added

3 1/2 cups red wine
1/2 cup good tequila
1 cup club soda
1 lime, thinly sliced
1 lemon, thinly sliced
Mint sprigs.

Take your baking sugar and your spring water, mix them together in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Simmer until all the sugar has dissolved. This is your syrup.

Get a large pitcher. Probably bigger than that. Pour in your mixed citrus juices, then add your syrup, and stir well.

Once the syrup and juices are well-mixed, add your wine, tequila and club soda -- stirring well.

Toss in your fruit slices.

Pour over ice -- making sure you get a fruit slice in each glass -- garnish with a sprig of mint.

Voila! Sangria.


Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Road trip

This Saturday, Reno and I drove over to Grayson County for a bit of a shufti. Pretty country, but I'm a bit puzzled by those tall-ish thingies with the green-and-brown bits. Got bark kind of like a bush, only they're a hell of a lot bigger. And they're everywhere. Weird.

Stopped in Muenster at Fischer's Meat Market and filled up a cooler with various meats and cheeses. I'm noshing on sliced summer sausage and smoked cheddar as I type this. Heaven.

Lake Texoma is a good-looking lake, but I'm frankly bloody amazed that anything fed by the Red River can ever be any shade of colour other than mud. I'll be a son-of-a-gun, though, Lake Texoma was the prettiest shade of blue that I've seen in a long time.

Went by the Gander Mountain store in Sherman -- and actually met a friendly gun-counter person! Let me coon-finger a Stoeger Cougar 9mm and a CZ P01, and then we chatted. First time in a long time that a gun-store person just gossiped with me -- and that earns the Gander Mountain in Sherman the LawDog Paw of Approval.

Denison seems to be a pretty little town, some of the older houses are downright gorgeous, but I think at least one of the residents is a little more perceptive than I was ready for.

Reno and I stopped at a small business on what seemed to be the downtown area of Denison, and walked into a store. I walked up to the counter, smiled at the lady behind it and asked, "How long have you lived here?"

Lady gives me Ye Olde Hairy Eyeball, looks at Reno (manfully keeping his knuckles off the carpet) back to me (attempting to hide all fangs and tentacles) and says, slightly suspiciously, "All my life."

"That's good" I say, "Now, this is going to sound a bit odd -- but where is the good section of town and where is the bad section?"

"Oh,"she says, visibly relaxing, "Cops."

What? Did somebody tattoo this on my forehead when I wasn't looking? Do out-of-town off-duty officers walk into businesses on a regular basis, flash their ID's and ask where the good and bad sections of town are? What about that question screams, "COP!"? Huh?

Totally gobsmacked me, I'm here to tell you.

Anyhoo, a nice little side trip, very much needed.

Metroplex next, I think.


Sunday, February 18, 2007

So much for Outdoor Life

By way of the lovely Tamara, who got it from The Unforgiving Minute, we discover this little gem from somebody whose writing I once thoroughly admired.

Seems he's got a case of the hips regarding AK47's and AR15's, and finds it amazing that people actually use these rifles for hunting or target purposes.

He then goes so far as to call the AR-15 -- and the AK-47 -- "terrorist rifles".

Goodness. I wonder what that makes the M16? And if the AR-15 is a "terrorist rifle", then what of the young men and women in our Armed Forces -- now currently fielding the AR-15/M16 series?

Terrorists, huh?

He goes on to further announce that "hunters" should distance themselves, to "divorce" themselves from Ak-47's and AR-15's.

Obviously not a student of political history.

"Divide and conquer" is the name of the game. The undefeatable mass of citizens known as "Gun Owners" must be divided before they can be conquered.

Once our enemies have divided us into little elements -- "Hunters", "Target Shooters", "Shotgunners", "Cowboy Shooters", "Handgunners", then each smaller unit can be attacked and defeated one at a time.

I'd like to thank Jim Zumbo for helping the enemies of the Second Amendment accomplish this very goal.

It is a sad, bitter day that I have discovered that a man whose writings I have admired over the years is actively engaged in aiding the gun grabbers in assaulting MY right to Keep and Bear Arms.

A pox on him and his house.



Jim Zumbo has issued an apology.

Nothing like slamming that ol' barn door as you listen to the fading thunder of horses hooves, but what the hell -- someone else might fall for the apology.

I don't think I shall accept. Jim Zumbo's true feelings were revealed in his initial post on the subject, and I seriously doubt those feelings were changed in under 12 hours.


Saturday, February 17, 2007


I'm told that it's good to have an active fantasy life. To dream of doing things you'd never actually do in the paint is a stress reliever and -- even though you'd never actually carry out your fantasy -- it's good for your mental health.

For instance, I have a fantasy about winning the Texas lottery. In this fantasy, I proceed to use the money to rent a C5 Galaxy and crew, then I hire four illegal immigrants to load my selected cargo on-board.

After loading, we'd fly to my destination, and I'd hang off the back ramp, one arm around an uber-kitten in a black leather trenchcoat and high-heels, me bellowing, "That's how we do a fatwa in Texas, you sonsa[deleted]!", as she pours swigs of 25-year-old bourbon down my throat and my faithful illegal immigrants heave 270,000 pounds of pig carcasses off the back ramp at tree-top level over an un-named Arabic city.

Might take a couple of passes to get all 270,000 pounds out, come to think.

See, that's a fantasy. Nice little day-dream about doing things that are normally unthinkable -- in this case, there is no way I'd ever find an uber-kitten who'd be willing to pour booze and wear a black leather trenchcoat.

But, it does make for a nice little day-dream.


Thursday, February 15, 2007

Here we bloody go again.


That didn't take too long.

H.R. 1022

I am cautiously optimistic that this one will die a quiet death in committee -- I think we probably have a more pro-gun Congress now than we did at this time last year.

However, I will be the first to admit that I thought the original Assault Weapon Ban in 1994 had no chance to pass, and boy was I wrong there.

So, of your kindness, write your Congress-critter and courteously ask him/her/it to oppose this useless, unConstitutional bit of law-making.

Politeness and civility, folks.


Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Murphy was a cop.

Bulletproof vests aren't.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. They also punch, kick, and choke harder, too.

The speed at which you respond to a fight call is always the slowest legal speed. You want to arrive in time to arrest the winner and put the loser in an ambulance.

OC works on cops too, and regardless of wind direction, will always blow back in your face.

High speed chases will always proceed from an area of light traffic to an area of extremely heavy traffic.

If you know someone who tortures animals and wets the bed, he is either a serial killer or he works for Internal Affairs.

Placing your pistol back in a holster with your finger on the trigger will cause you to walk with a limp.

Flash hiders don't, nor do silencers.

If you have cleared all the rooms and met no resistance -- Congratulations: you kicked in the door of the wrong house.

If a cop swings a baton in a fight, he will hit other cops more often than he will hit the bad guys he swings at.

Domestic arguments will always migrate from an area of few available weapons (living room), to an area with many available weapons (kitchen).

If you have just punched out a handcuffed prisoner for spitting at you, smile, because you are about to become a star on the Six O'Clock News.

Bullets work on veteran cops too. They also work on weight lifters, martial arts experts, department marksmen, Vice cops, S.W.A.T. jocks, and others who consider themselves immortal.

When a citizen sees red-and-blue lights approaching at a high rate of speed, he will always pull into the lane the cop needs to use.

If you drive your patrol car to the geometric center of the Sahara Desert, within five minutes someone is going to pull along side you and ask for directions.

You can never drive slow enough to please the citizens who don't need a cop, and you can never drive fast enough to please the ones who do.

Any suspect with a rifle is a better shot than any cop with a pistol.

On any call, there will always be more 'bad guys' than there are good guys, and the farther away your back-up, the more there will be.

The longer you've been a cop, the shorter your flashlight and your temper gets.

Whatever you are about to do, if there is a good chance it will get you killed, you probably shouldn't do it.

You should never do a shotgun search of a dark warehouse with a cop whose nickname is "Boomer".

The better you do your job, the more likely you are to be shot, injured, complained on, sued, investigated, or sub-poena'd on your day off.

If a large group of drunk bikers is "holed-up" in a house, the Department will send one deputy in a beat car. If there is one biker"holed-up" in a house, they will send the entire S.W.A.T. Team.



Before I forget ...

Happy Valentines Day, everyone.

It's snowing.

The middle of [deleted] North-by-Gawd-Texas, on [deleted] February the [deleted] Fourteenth, and I've got snow coming out of the sky.

Something fundamentally wrong with that.



Tuesday, February 13, 2007

That's interesting

I find myself missing the old 'Search All Blogs' button found at the top of the Old Blogger pages.

The blog search page at the main Google page just flat doesn't work as well.



Monday, February 12, 2007

He's a politician ... and his lips are moving.

Looks like Dear Old Rudy is trying to scratch some litter over a troublesome issue for his campaign.

No, you don't "...understand the Second Amendment" and you bloody well don't "...understand the right to bear arms."

Understanding the Second Amendment and the right to bear arms involves a fundamental understanding of the phrase "
Shall Not Be Infringed", and you, Rudy old cock, happily and thoroughly infringed the Second Amendment all through your reign as Mayor of Newt Yack City.

You don't get to crawfish your way out of that one, I'm here to tell you.

You are a gun-grabber, you lying sack of o-rings. Bloomberg is standing on your shoulders.

You damn sure don't have my vote, and there is no chance this side of Hades that you're ever going to get my vote.

Period. Full stop. End of statement.


Saturday, February 10, 2007

Interesting things that wind up in the e-mail.

One of my Gentle Readers sent me this link in an e-mail, saying that I would probably appreciate this song.

I watched it, and then listened to it without watching the video. It's more complex than I would have imagined, and very allegorical.

The title -- "Winterborn" -- intrigued me, and I don't ever recall coming across a reference to "Winterborn" before, so I started drifting about the 'Net to sate my curiosity.

On the message board for the band, one poster related that this song was inspired by an American military helicopter pilot in Afghanistan who was shot down and killed while trying to rescue civilians.

I have no way to verify this, but I like it.

I've never heard of this group before, and I've not yet listened to any of their other songs, but this song and the story behind it makes me hope they achieve their dreams.

During my research, I also discovered that author John Ringo has adopted this song as the theme for his "Ghost" series of books -- here's hoping the extra exposure brings good things to the band.


A couple of random thoughts

You know what I'd like to see in politics?

A repeal of the 17th Amendment, for one. The Constitution originally intended the Senate to be the representatives of the several States to the Federal Gov't.

The 17th Amendment changed that, and Senators became elected by the people.

Now, there really isn't anyone to champion the causes of the individual States -- and that is, and has been, a Bad Thing.

The other thing I would really like to see, is a Constitutional Amendment allowing for repeal of laws by The People.

I think that if 51% of the people who fall under the jurisdiction of a law haul off and vote 'No Confidence' to that law -- then the law should be immediately stricken from the books.

For instance, a city ordinance could be repealed by a vote of 51% of the registered voters in that city, a State law would be removed by a vote of 51% of the registered voters in that State; and a Federal law would get axed if 51% of the voters in the nation chose to.

In this modern times when the system of checks-and-balances is taking it in the neck, the ability of the people to say, "Oh, hell no!" to a law is the only true check to government power left to us.

I'm not exactly sure how to write such an Amendment -- there would have to be some kind of petition process to get the vote before the people -- but I'm sure there are plenty of people smarter than I who could probably take a pretty good hack at it.

Sure would help to keep the Gummint in check, though.

Something to think about, anyway.


Thursday, February 08, 2007

The Internet never forgets

If you do any wandering through the political blogs, no doubt by now you have heard of the furor around John Edwards appointment of a couple of political bloggers to his campaign staff.

The bloggers are Amanda Marcotte, of Pandagon; and Melissa McEwan, of Shakespeares Sister. Both women are -- to put it mildly -- vulgar, obscene, and profane.

This should be no surprise. I have noted for some time that certain areas of Blogworld seem to equate 'edgy' with the use of Ye Infamous F-bomb, especially if you can cutely mis-spell the word by swapping the middle two letters.


If quantity is your indication of 'edgy', then these two ladies are definitely on the high-speed/low-drag side of 'edginess'.

I'm not sure about Ms. McEwan -- I'm not getting paid to wade through cyber-space cuss matches -- but from the little research I did into Ms. Marcotte's postings it seems that the lass has a major case of the hips RE: organized religion (especially the Catholic Church), men (especially the accused Duke lacrosse players) and "The Patriarchy".

That would be white men from the South, near as I can tell.

As an example, allow me to post a brief bit of whimsy from Ms. Marcotte:

"Q: What if Mary had taken Plan B* after the Lord filled her with his hot, white, sticky Holy Spirit?

A: You’d have to justify your misogyny with another ancient mythology."

I'm not sure -- is that a trifecta of insults, or just a twofer?

As one might imagine, some folks took a bit of umbrage at people with this kind of world-view being attached to what seems to be a major Presidential bid.

To be fair, it should be noted that both ladies wrote the controversial things before being hired on to the Edwards campaign staff; and that neither one of them have said anything controversial since being affiliated with Edwards.

Of course, in the spirit of fairness, it should also be noted that both ladies have been official Edwards Campaign Staff for less than a week.

Edwards issued a press release stating that he was "personally offended" by some of the comments made by each blogger, and that "intolerant language" would not be permitted in his campaign.

He went on to further state that he didn't believe that the two ladies actually intended to malign anyone's faith. A sentiment echoed in the not-quite-apologies issued by the ladies involved.


As a cynical observer of the human condition, I have to ask a simple question:

If the targets of the profane ire of Ms. Marcotte and Ms. McEwan had been Islam; or Buddhism; or Wicca -- instead of Christianity -- would they have been let off with a warning, or would they be looking for new jobs right now?

If they had targeted black male Patriarchy or black male misogyny with the same gusto as they devoted to white males -- would a simple apology be enough?

We'll never learn the answer to that.

But we can guess.


*Plan B is the shelf name for the "morning after pill" contraceptive

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Oh, this is going to be fun.

The trial of Ehren "Weaselboy" Watada took an interesting turn this morning.

In exchange for dropping the charges of Conduct Unbecoming an Officer, Weaselboy signed a document admitting that he did not go to Iraq with his unit -- and proceeded with his trial for Missing Troop Movement.

Turns out that part of the twelve-page document Watada signed was a teeny-tiny part admitting that he had a duty to deploy with his soldiers.


This is the primary element of the crime of Missing Troop Movement. He acknowledged that he had a duty to deploy; and he failed to do so. Case closed.

In other words, Weaselboy is on trial for a crime he already signed a written confession to.

Good lawyer you got there, troopie.

So, the Judge of the Court Martial found a mistrial and scheduled a retrial in March -- and since the confession that caused the mistrial was part of the pre-trial agreement to drop two of the charges against him -- the pre-trial agreement is dropped.

Ehren "Weaselboy" Watada will stand trial for all charges; and is looking down the throat at six to do.

Part of me wonders if he'll be able to keep his mud in a ball until March.


I love living in the future

There is something oh-so-keen about being able to log-on to your somewhat obscure little blog, type up a article about a series of books that you thoroughly enjoy, then coming back four day later to discover a comment by an author of that series thanking you for your interest.

Excuse me while I go over to the corner and squeal like a deranged fanboy for a while.

Okay, I'm back.

Have I mentioned how much I love living in the future?


Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Critter update

Seems our pedophile also has a MySpace page:

Note that the picture on the MySpace page is the same one as found on the Blogger page.

Given the number of children on MySpace, I would take it kindly if folks would report the presence of a known paedophile to the MySpace people.

There should be an 'Abuse' button at the bottom of the page, click it and type a polite message, of your kindness.



I'm not sure how this came up, but I've noticed a couple or three people mentioning a wife/family in the 'Comments' section.

I'm not married, I've never been married, and I have no children that I know of.

Not that blessed, folks.

That is all.


Monday, February 05, 2007

Oh, hello!

By way of Kateykakes, we learn that is offering a book of poetry and haiku's for paedophiles.

And not only is the puddle of slime that managed to sneak up on a keyboard and author this screed a paedophile, but it's also a goth-emo-vampire paedophile.

Screaming for attention, ain'tcha?

You got it.

Given that paedophiles are the rightful prey of lawdogs everywhere, I think I'm going to have to deal myself in on this one.

I'm not about to link my blog to some subhuman deviant pervert, so for further information, go here.

By-the-by, First Amendment arguments are a dead issue here. may have the First Amendment right to publish this garbage, but I also have a First Amendment right to speak my mind. To them, about them, or to any of my Gentle Readers about this.

So, any whinging about the Freedom of Speech of better include a section on MY right to freedom of speech.


Weaselboy gets his day in court.

The court-martial of First Lieutenant Ehren Watada began today.

As I suspected, his defence team is bound, bent and determined to turn his court-martial into a circus focused on the legality of the war in Iraq.

I wish I could say that I'm surprised, but I'm not. This whole sorry episode has stunk of orchestration from the get-go.

Rather than, you know, actually defending their client, Watada's "defence" team seems determined to slap a "martyr" brand on his forehead.

The military judge informed Watada and his team that they could not debate the legality of the war in court.

So ... the defense presents a laundry list of international and constitutional law experts as defence witnesses. Why law experts? So they can testify as to the legality of the war in Iraq.


The military judge flat out tells the defence that the question of the legality of the war in Iraq can not be answered in a military court.

This led to "heated exchanges" between the judge and the defence team.

Folks, I've seen a lot of trials, and when your attorney is arguing with the judge -- your future is not so bright. Looks good on the news and to your fans, but I'm here to tell you that the court room belongs to the judge and he isn't going to lose any arguments in there.

Oh, well. This is what Watada wants. More importantly, it's what the Anti-War movements needs. They get a martyr to hyperventilate over -- and who cares about a Dishonourable Discharge? It's just the military.


See you in four years, Weaselboy.


Saturday, February 03, 2007

Weekend reading

I went and dug my copies of the Sten series by Chris Bunch and Allan Cole out of storage, and I'm planning on spending most of the weekend imbibing mass quantities of tea and drifting through the Eternal Empire.

This is one of my all-time favorite Sci-Fi book series. It combines sly humour, politics and a truly encyclopaedic amount of military history into eight books that chart the rise of a grunt through the ranks of a benevolent fascist empire until his inevitable confrontation with the leader of that empire.

And when I say "encyclopaedic military history", I'm not kidding. The sub-plot of the series is a retelling of World War 2 and the Cold War -- up to the seizing of the American Embassy in Tehran; and if that isn't enough, there is enough military trivia snuck in on the sly to require a reference library to catch all the good bits.

For instance, a code-word -- Myitkyina -- used briefly and all-to-easily lost in the chapter, is the name of a fairly important, though little-known-to-Americans battle in the Burma Theatre of Operations during WWII; at flight school Sten is joined by an infantry soldier who is tired of land warfare named William Bishop the 43rd; the tacship that Sten ends up commanding is a Bulkeley-class; and when Sten and Kilgour are captured by the Tahn and prove themselves to be incorrigible prisoners, they are moved to a seized monastery called Koldyeze -- "Koldyeze" being the original spelling for the European castle of Colditz, where the Germans kept "incorrigible" Allied POWs during WWII.

And those are some of the more obvious military trivia found throughout. I'm fairly sure that I've missed many, many more.

There are eight books to this series:

If you're in the mood for real-world politics, military history and trivia, sly humour and enough genuine Scottish dialect to tie your tongue into knots, I seriously recommend this series of books.