The Ultimate Answer to Kings

Former Weekender Neighbor L washed my laundry today – beautiful day for running large appliances – and also remembered my birthday!

Sausage and crackers and wine! So I know what I’m having for dinner. Laddie’s too young to help with the wine.

Last night while watching a movie I started idly cleaning out my desk drawer for the first time in…um…

And anyway, quite to my surprise it contained not one but three rings of old keys…

And do I have the slightest idea what any of them go to? I think this one here might be to Ian’s gun safe, and this one looks like it might fit the powershed hasp lock, but as for the others…

And you know what’s going to happen if I just chuck them all, right? Even though they’ve been in the back of a drawer for a decade?

The weather has been very changeable, and when that happens my cell signal gets weird when it exists at all. I sent this picture to my laptop on walkie yesterday afternoon, after the rain stopped and the sky started to clear…

…and then forgot all about it until it appeared in my inbox just this minute, as I was working on another post entirely. Sheesh.

Imagine all the people
Forced at bayonet point to surrender their goods and service to the state
You-HOO-hoo-hoo-hoo…
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I plan to control the guns
I hope one day you’ll join us
Then my liberation army won’t have to kill you!

I saw this at Hot Air, which had some comments…

There are of course some awkward elements to this effort, starting with the fact that it’s AOC narrating her own hero narrative, one in which she is the key figure in the salvation of America and maybe the world. It’s the kind of thing a smarter person wouldn’t admit to thinking about in public, much less narrate.

It begins on a bullet-train from New York to DC with an aging AOC reminiscing about a time before she was the most important person in the world…

…and all I can add is I really hope I didn’t help pay for this…

I can’t wait to vote for this guy…

Swalwell: I Will Jail Those Who Defy My Gun Grabbing Agenda

Even CNN hairspray-heads can’t take him seriously…

TAPPER: So, gun control is the central plank in your campaign.You wrote last year — quote — “We should ban possession of military- style semiautomatic assault weapons. We should buy back such weapons from all who choose to abide by the law. And we should criminally prosecute any who choose to defy it by keeping their weapons.” Criminal prosecution for keeping assault weapons. What’s the punishment for people who don’t hand in their guns? Do they go to jail?

SWALWELL: Well, Jake, they would,…

…and then, finally sensing the trap, he belatedly segued into a diatribe about how uniquely dangerous “assault weapons” are. It’s those shoulder things that go up – apparently just blundering near one is instantly lethal.

The funny thing about Swalwell, and I mean that literally, is that this is actually his version of toning down the rhetoric. Last year he was threatening us with nuclear weapons. Seriously!

The question has been asked so often it’s become a cliché: Why are gun grabbers so violent? And, in the face of their very serious threats, do they really expect us to disarm? They don’t seem trustworthy.

…the old man wishes he was snoring…

It started seriously raining about 9 last night. Evidence in the form of deep, Jeep-proceeds-sideways mud suggests that it continued to rain all night long. It’s 9:30 as I type this paragraph and it’s still raining. Light rain, but steady.

Just got back from chicken chores, and don’t expect to stir from the cabin much until conscience prods me to do it again in about six hours.

Private to the person who sent me that rain gear – I think it was last year…

I don’t use it often – this is the desert. But I do keep it tended and handy, because I do use it.

Mike in comments left a link to this story, which I note some of you have already read…

‘I don’t feel safe in my neighbourhood,’ says man suing Collingwood over coyotes

People in Collingwood say coyotes have killed dogs and cats and lashed out at people, and now one longtime resident is calling on the courts to intervene after growing tired of asking the town and local police to help.

…

Collingwood, a picturesque waterfront Ontario town on Georgian Bay near the Blue Mountain ski resort, is one of a number of communities across Canada where neighbours are frustrated and scared, struggling to deal with aggressive coyotes, though a lawsuit is unusual.

I live in the southwest desert, as TUAK regulars are probably tired of being told, and I and my neighbors are certainly outnumbered by coyotes many times over. But attacks on pets and livestock are rare – except for cats, which are nocturnal and mostly can’t learn elementary precautions in their brief lifespans – and attacks on humans are unheard of.

This is because coyotes are smart and adaptable and like life. And they have been taught – in no uncertain terms – that if you mess with the humans, you die.

I don’t believe it’s still in effect but when I first moved here going on 13 years ago there was a bounty on coyote hides – and lots of people willing to collect. There are techniques for hunting them but it takes care and skill because the coyotes in a hunted community become extremely wary – and they’re smart. Coyotes aren’t looking for a fight, they just want to eat. So when a community of humans finds itself actually threatened by coyotes, it’s because those humans have been acting like food.

Remove the prohibition on weapons. Remove the cultural taboo against active self-defense, while firmly punishing human-on-human violent aggression. Your coyote problems will vanish overnight. I don’t know much and nobody should normally come to me for advice about…pretty much anything. But that’s not rocket surgery right there.

I knew he was right because there’s only one animal other than the occasional dog that leaves dog-like tracks like the ones that have been desecrating the wash end of my driveway lately. But a few days ago he took extreme exception to a piss puddle where no coyote should ever dare venture, so I moved the game camera to cover the driveway’s entrance and see what it might see.

I could have collected it the very next morning…

I’m going to resume pissing on the driveway again for a while. It’s times like this I kind of miss Little Bear: They did not risk messing with him.

…why are gun control activists so violent?

She ran on responsible gun regulation, now she’s accused of killing her campaign treasurer

ATLANTA – A former Georgia Congressional candidate has been charged with murder after her former campaign treasurer was found dead inside her apartment.

Kellie Collins, of Thomason, turned herself into the McDuffie County Sheriff’s Office just as authorities in Aiken County, South Carolina found the body of Curtis Cain, Collins’ former campaign treasurer.

Investigators said Cain did not show up for work on Tuesday, so deputies went to his home to check on him. That’s when they found him dead from an apparent gunshot wound.

…

In 2017, Collins ran as a Democrat against incumbent Rep. Jody Hice, a Republican, for Georgia’s 10th District. She ultimately dropped out of the race, citing personal reasons.

During the race, she touted her support for responsible gun regulation to protect the community.

Sometimes I think it’s projection: “I know I have no self-control and shouldn’t ever be allowed near a gun lest I just shoot somebody who annoys me. Therefore nobody except cops and my security detail should have guns at all.” But by that logic the same people should advocate that nobody should ever have political power, and I notice they don’t do that…

I turn 65 years old this month, and ever since I was a little kid I have wondered – exactly what is a flour sifter for?

I mean, sure, I get that it sifts flour. But why does flour require sifting? Well, last week I was up in the pantry loft sorting through some stuff, and I came upon three 5-lb bags of flour that got shifted behind some other stuff – probably when I first set up the new pantry going on two years ago – and was way older than I normally allow flour to get. It seemed fine, and it bakes up okay but it had really set up and it broke into some truly annoying lumps.

So today, in hope of not having to order one on-line knowing it wouldn’t arrive until after I’d already used up that 15 pounds of flour, I went from store to store looking for a flour sifter in the crappy little town nearest where I live. The dollar store didn’t have one. The food store had a tiny one that wouldn’t have worked and cost $15. The drug store turned out to have exactly what I was looking for.

Yeah, it’s just that kind of town.

I may never need it again after I finish with this batch of flour, but if the situation ever comes up again I’m all set.

Oh, and I got that trailer tire fixed finally. So that’s done.

Yup.

Sanders Lawyers Do Not Like These “Bernie Is My Comrade” T-Shirts One Bit

Claire Hawkins, a lawyer with Garvey, Schubert, Barer — which said it is “the official organization” of the [Sanders] campaign — sent the letter to Daniel McCall, demanding his company, Liberty Maniacs, stop selling the items.

The products show Sanders next Karl Marx, Joseph Stalin, and others with the tagline, “Bernie is my comrade.”

Heh. I don’t do slogan t-shirts and I don’t wear red, but FYI…

Get’em while they’re legal.

h/t

I bake bread once or twice a week, more or less on autopilot, and gradually I slide into bad habits. Lately it seems I’ve been letting the dough rise too long. I get a nice rise, punch it down, divide it, let it rise again in the bread pans … and then it falls in the oven.

This time around I determined I would deliberately not make that mistake, even at the risk of making another mistake. I gave it two rises same as usual, but cut the time of both in half regardless of how the dough looked. And here’s how today’s loaves looked compared to a slice from the last batch…

And that seems to have worked.

It might not happen this year, I don’t know. But there’s a sort of short barrel cactus, not real common around here, that occasionally grows the prettiest flower I’ve ever seen…

The plants really blend in with their surroundings, so I marked this one with a white rock so I could find it when I happened by. No sign of flowers this spring. Continue reading →

So many times in the past couple of years I’ve been tempted to come out and … not support, god knows, but defend Donald Trump in more than the most grudging terms. He has held up well, I think, under an endless onslaught of negative press, much of it quite unfair. His record of achievement in office, while not exactly epoch-marking, hasn’t been as embarrassing as I expected. And to be completely fair to a man who at this point has to be the most investigated individual in the history of opposition research, the fact that he’s still in office at all must mean he’s been a closet saint all these years.

He came to the campaign, after all, a famously unpleasant, crass, vulgar, sleazy oaf of a real estate tycoon and reality television show star. Only Hillary Clinton could have lost a presidential election against such a renowned boor. But she did, so I said – against all expectations – thank whatever gods there may be for Donald Trump.

That doesn’t mean I liked the man. And a couple of days ago, bless his heart, he reminded me why not.

All through the campaign we heard Trump shout paeans to the greatness of Wikileaks! It was one of his mantras…

Then this past week Ecuador threw Julian Assange out of its London embassy after – what, seven years? I guess he went stir crazy and started making more trouble than he was worth. Anyway, he went directly into the waiting arms of British cops and you could practically hear American knives being sharpened in the background. The deep state HATES that guy.

And what did our beloved, heroic president do to show his appreciation for all Assange’s help?

Nice.

But thank you, Mr. President, for reminding us why we shouldn’t trust you for anything. I have to kind of love you for having all the most despicable enemies, but appreciate the reminder that that doesn’t make you yourself in any way virtuous.

A beautiful day for once! After 3-4 days of cold/windy and then rain, it was nice to see the sun…

The ladies are doing well. I’m happy to report that the new girls have finally discovered the joy and convenience of those nesting boxes I went to such trouble to provide…

…and the incidence of eggs in the corner has fallen to nearly zero. As L pointed out this morning, the eggs are cleaner when the hens don’t lay where they shit. (Speaking of which, you can tell in that picture that situating the nesting boxes directly under the main roost made a roof pretty much non-optional.)

And speaking of L, by coincidence we both arrived at about the same time. She has also been cocooning through our bout of lousy weather and had a whole bunch of goodies stored up for the girls…

People say all sorts of things about the quality of homegrown eggs and some of those things are more true than others, in my experience. One thing that is definitely true is that lots of kitchen scraps make chicken eggs taste much better than a diet consisting entirely of pellets.

…and my cell signal went away entirely, it seems.

Didn’t have anything to talk about anyway. I just huddled inside, venturing out only for chicken chores and one run to D&L’s to take care of their horses while they were in the big town…

The sky has cleared overnight, and it’s supposed to be warmer today. But right now it’s as cold as it’s been in what seems like weeks – 28^o indicated! A month ago that would have seemed balmy…

Now that’s a take-down:

Oh, and may the fleas of a thousand camels infest Ilhan Omar’s private parts.

Wow, yesterday and today the wind has been howling. Temps in the 40’s or – actually mid-fifties right now, which is good because this is the day D&L decided to top off their haybarn. I just got back, covered with hay and feeling like it’s January again. Hay day needs to be still, not 40 mph. You know?

Laddie has been insisting on tagging along more often lately, so he came and got his ears scratched by the strangers. He’s great around people, not so much around dogs. Fortunately Butch and Zip were inside today or he’d have threatened them with bodily harm, and ol’ potato-bod has nothing but attitude to back that up with.

I’ve been bringing their hay sweepings home with me the past few times – it works better than straw for nesting material, and while it lasts the hens break fewer eggs.

…that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Heh – people tend to be “law-abiding” only to the point that suits them as individuals. Californians have had their magazine sizes limited by law for decades, and – don’t ask me how I know – they’ve been smuggling standard magazines into California for exactly that long. Last week a blip in the magazine law very briefly permitted the sale of standard magazines. It would have been sheerest madness for good law-abiding citizens to take advantage of that blip, since possession was certainly going to go right back to being illegal in as short a time as the Wise Masters in Sacramento could possibly arrange. And yet…

Californians flood gun stores when magazine ban is lifted for one week

Late last month, federal judge Roger T. Benitez struck down a California law in place since 2000 that banned the sale of gun magazines holding more than 10 rounds. The next day, San Diego firearms owners were jamming the phone lines of every gun store in town, desperate to lay hands on the larger, freshly legal pistol magazines before the People’s Republic of California pulled new shenanigans and made them illegal again.

When Gunfighter Tactical on Miramar opened at 10 a.m. on Saturday, the line at their front door stretched around the building. They were sold out within the hour.

Guess those people just wanted to be sure they had something to turn in at their local police station, to prove what good citizens they are. Can’t think of a single other reason they’d want them.

Oh, uh…maybe at least one reason…

As they bagged their purchases, they joked about sticking it to Beccera: “Every time the cash register rings, a gun grabber somewhere loses his wings … and his s–t.”

Raise that finger high, citizens…