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Archive for the ‘Guns’ Category

This is my Stop

Monday, August 21st, 2017

The Armed Compound is a Reality

Today I’m trying something new: golf cart blogging. I’m in the woods east of my house, sitting in my E-Z-GO, drinking an Arizona Watermelon cocktail. I have the laptop with me, and I’m using my phone as a router.

I’m typing during the eclipse, which is on the way out now. I did not make any effort to observe it, but when I walked out of my dad’s hospital, I noticed that the sun was casting thousands of crescent-shaped lights on the sidwalk. To see an eclipse, you look down, not up.

Traditionally, eclipses have been considered bad omens, and lunar eclipses have been considered particularly ominous for Israel. I don’t know if it amounts to anything. I have not seen a correlation. I find eclipses themselves kind of dull, but it’s neat to see how the world becomes darker while staying sunny. I remember seeing that when I was a kid.

My dad is in the hospital because he refused to wait for me to give him his prescriptions two days ago. I already wrote about this. We were leaving a hotel in Kissimmee, and I asked him to wait by the car while I got the birds. They were in travel cages in my room. He wanted to take his pills, and I told him he needed to let me get them for him. When I got back to the car, he had a bag of bottles in his hands, and he was taking things. I had to pull the bag out of his fingers to get him to stop.

The next morning, in the new house, he came to my bedroom and said he didn’t know where he was.

I thought he had had a stroke, but it looks like he took the wrong dose of one drug and slowed his heart rate down to the point where it affected his thinking. I learn new lessons all the time, and now I’ve learned I have to keep his prescriptions in a special place.

The day we left Miami, he insisted he was not going to give up driving. He said he was perfectly able to find his way around the neighborhood. He was adamant. He was angry. He got in the car and tried to go to a Wendy’s about a mile and a half away. I didn’t see him again for several hours.

I used a phone app to track him, and I saw that he was several miles north of Coral Gables, driving in random directions, as if he were using dice to choose his way. I ended up chasing him down with the app. I found him near Northwest 79th Street, which is about 12 miles from where he should have been. Instead of leaving reasonably early and taking a leisurely drive to Ocala, we ended up leaving late and checking into the hotel in Kissimmee at about 1 a.m., and needless to say, a lot of loose ends down south remained loose.

I took the car keys, and I figured things would be okay, and then came the pill incident.

The movers didn’t finish putting everything where it should be. As Miami’s final slap in the face, the moving company sent three Cubans who did not speak any English. The job called for six, at least one of whom could communicate. They finally left at about midnight, promising to come back in a few days. Will I see them again? Search me.

I have one friend in Ocala, and she has been a godsend. When I texted her about my dad’s hospital stay, she drove to the hospital on her day off to visit him and see if he was okay. This gave me time to buy towels and some other things we needed. When I caught up with her at the hospital, she showed me where the Wal-Mart was, and I loaded up on waste baskets and so on.

Her ex-husband is a lawyer. Well, that’s not true. He used to be a lawyer. He stole a lot of money from two clients, and he is currently a guest of the state, awaiting final sentencing. Long story. She and I kept each other laughing with tales of our dysfunctional families. For example, we discussed the time her 350-pound great aunt got in the bathtub against everyone’s advice and got stuck there, and then insisted my friend lift her out.

The ex-husband is a strange case. The videotape of one of his hearings is online, and I decided to watch it. The judge asked him about his education level, and he said, “nineteenth grade.” What can you say about that? You’re talking to the person who decides how much time you get, and you decide to make a joke? I would not have made that choice. It may explain why the judge denied his motion to withdraw his guilty plea. He could be looking at 10 years or more.

The house, shop, and grounds are wonderful. The shop is going to be big enough for all my tools, and it’s already set up with a security system, a powered garage door on one end, and a chain-driven roll-up door on the other. It has a nice porch outside, with a swing and 4 plastic Adirondack chairs. When I experience failure and frustration with my tools, I can go out there, sit in one of the chairs, and sulk in the shade.

I have endless room to store my junk, so for the first time in years, I will not have to worry about clutter. I can’t get over that.

The area is like medicine to me. The people are polite. Nearly everyone speaks English. I see Trump stickers all over the place. The traffic is a joke. The landscape is very pretty. I can’t wait for the August heat to die down so I can enjoy Marion County even more.

I have some stress related to my dad’s little surprises, as well as the movers’ interesting business methods, but other than that, I have peace here. I’m trying to get used to the fact that everyone isn’t angry at me, the way they are in Miami. I was right about that place. It wasn’t me; it was Miami.

My friend Travis called and said he had a dream about me. He’s house sitting for me. He said he dreamed an angry hag tried to get into the house. At first, he didn’t know who it was, but it turned out to be my sister. That makes sense. She has been used against me all my life. Whatever it is that drives her is probably not pleased that I’m out here living among Christians.

Travis has had prophetic dreams before, so this one could be legit. He’s very concerned because so many of his strong Christian friends have left Miami. He thinks something bad is going to happen. Of course, something bad has already happened. It became Miami. How much worse could it get?

I guess I should fire up the Mach 5 and get back to the barn. In a month or two, I should be able to blog out here in 70-degree weather. That will be something. Maybe I’ll have some rifle targets to show you.

Expect more move-related posts. This adventure is just starting.

The Liberation of A. MacMoofing

Thursday, August 17th, 2017

GANGWAY!

If you want to have a thrilling experience that will leave you gasping, don’t buy a wingsuit and jump off Mount Everest. Hire movers to move your grand piano.

Today I watched movers turn my piano on its side and roll it outdoors. It’s like watching nurses play catch with your newborn child. Anyway, they seem to know what they’re doing.

Of course, the movers are doing more than I required in the original estimate. I’m handling everything myself, so it was not possible to get every possession packed. The cost went up a few hundred dollars, and it may go up more tomorrow. C’est la vie. That’s what money is for.

I still can’t get used to the idea that I’m leaving this miserable city. Day after tomorrow, I will be in MY house, in northern Florida. I won’t be a tourist or a guest. I’ll be a resident.

It’s frustrating, trying to do things in the right order. My tools are on a truck right now, so all the things I wanted to do with tools this week are not possible. I needed tools to prepare some things for the move! I had to rely on the movers and their pathetic tools. My lathe has a wooden tool shelf on it, and the shelf has to be removed for the trip north. The shelf uses special bolts. They’re not original to the lathe. I keep the originals in one of my rolling tool chests. Guess when I remembered that? After they started moving my tools into the truck. Thank God they hadn’t taken the chest yet.

Whoops. I have to get up and let them pack crystal. I’ll be back.

I have started to think there is no intelligent, efficient way to move. My obligations in South Florida are a bit screwed up, and there is nothing I can do about it. People are just going to have to show me a little patience. Or drive 300 miles to see me if they want a confrontation. By the time they get there, I should already have the security alligators trained.

I had to move in the most cloudless, blistering, glaring August in history. I hate to say anything that might make a global warming nut puff up and crow, but the sun is about an inch from the ground today. I actually had to walk around it to get to the car. It’s one of those Augusts when the sun follows you in the house. You sit in the air-conditioned shade and feel the sun’s heat and glare through the walls. Even when you close your eyes, you want sunglasses.

I feel like Miami is angry at me for leaving, and I suppose it is. There are big, filthy spirits assigned to various geographical areas, and I’m sure the ones that run Miami enjoy the suffering I endure here. I think they’re turning it up to punish me for going AWOL. It seems like people are ruder and more crass than ever this week. More people turning in front of me without turn signals. More people running yield signs simply because Carlos the Random Miamian and his leased Range Rover are more important than I am. More traffic backups. Papa John’s sent me a guy who could not say three words of English. I’m so busy I debase myself by ordering Papa John’s, and they rub it in by sending me an illegal who can’t say, “Twenty dollars and forty-two cents.”

That is some bad pizza, by the way. Really revolting. The cheese is fake (look up the ingredients), and they put about half an ounce of each topping on the pie. Flour and tomatoes are nearly free, so of course, that’s what Papa John’s sells you. Anything even slightly costly they dole out in tiny amounts more suitable for snorting than eating. They might as well chop the toppings into lines and serve them on a mirror.

At some point tomorrow, my dad’s TV will be packed. I do not look forward to that. He is not good at dealing with minor inconveniences. He was already bored with 800 channels. Now he will have…0 channels. That means he will be 800 divided by 0 times as bored. And we won’t have cable until next week. I may check into a motel by myself and claim I was abducted by aliens.

The flying saucer kind, not the lawn-mowing kind. Although for all I know, Salvadorans are already sneaking over Neptune’s border.

I found out I can use my cell phone to stream Youtube to my TV in Ocala. That’s really something. I can barely send a text message here, and the Internet is slower than Morse code in Ocala, but the phone service up there is so good I’ll be able to watch Youtube. Explain that to me. The phone should be lightning fast in Miami, and it’s not. The Internet should be faster than 1.5 MBPS in Ocala, but it’s not. The cell service in Ocala should be pretty slow…but it’s not. Whatever. As long as I can watch my machining channels with breakfast, life will be good.

Who am I kidding? Life will be magnificent. I’m not going to be in Miami! If I get bored, I’ll hop on my golf cart and tour the grounds with my AK-47. I’ll go lift something with my tractor. I’ll go for a drive! You can do that in Marion County! You can drive for pleasure! Unless you count riding my motorcycles at night, I haven’t done that since maybe 1990. Maybe I’ll just go to McDonald’s and ORDER IN ENGLISH!!!!

“I want two McMuffins.” “Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh…joo Juan A. MacMoofings?”

I’m going to change my name to A. MacMoofing.

Water. I should drink some water. I’ve been drinking it all day, and if you will excuse me for being indelicate, it’s all intake and no output. Too much work. Too much heat. I think it’s affecting my brain. I need to pump some water into it.

I guess I’ve wound down enough. Time to stop writing.

I may be able to write something tomorrow, and then again, I may not. If this is the last blog entry I ever write from this county, let me take the high road and say I will always try to remember my experiences here without heaving. No promises.

Getting Squirrelly

Saturday, August 5th, 2017

Making it Rain Rodents

I keep thinking about shooting on the new farm.

The seller told me coyotes are a problem in Marion County. His family raised goats, and coyotes ate kids. They also got one calf. I don’t know if I’ll have any livestock or not, but I hate pest animals, and as long as I live in a rural area where coyotes are pests, I plan to do my part, by sending them to the coyote promised land, which I like to call the Garden of Acme.

Problem: I don’t think my current rifle inventory is optimized for the work.

I know almost nothing about coyotes, but they’re supposed to be very smart, so I figure the best move is to use a scoped rifle. I assume coyotes won’t walk up to me and pose. When it comes to scoped rifles, I have .17 HMR and .308, with nothing in between. I did some research, and people say a .17 HMR will not necessarily kill a coyote cleanly. A .308 will do it, and then some, but it will probably blow out the other side and make a mess. Also, it’s an unpleasant round to shoot. I would like something that will do the job without overpenetration or bruising my delicate shoulder.

It looks like there are two popular choices. One is the AR-15 in .223, and the other is .22 Winchester Magnum Rimfire. Everyone pushes me to get an AR-15, and maybe now I have a good reason, but they’re expensive, and I like the 7.62 a lot better for home defense. You can get a .22 WMR for under $300 and spend the rest of your budget on nice glass.

I need to get up to speed on coyotes. What they look like and so on. It would be a big faux pas if I proudly posted a photo of a freshly killed coyote and then it turned to to be my neighbor’s Scottish terrier. That would make for a lot of tense moments when we encountered each other in the aisles at Tractor Supply.

Note to self: don’t shoot anything wearing a collar. Unless it also has tattoos.

The farm also has pest squirrels. Personally, I think every squirrel is a pest. I used to have one that cut mangoes off my trees and then left without eating them. I would hear a thump and then the skittering of guilty feet. I hate squirrels. I’ve even trained myself not to take my foot off the gas when I see one in the road. I am not going to wreck my car or injure someone over a rat that lives in a tree.

It would be fun to kill some squirrels for my dad. He eats them. But what would I use? My grandfather taught me you should shoot squirrels with a shotgun, because a squirrel killed with a .22 may drop in the crotch of a tree and get stuck. He said a shotgun would blow them out into a state of free fall, facilitating their cleaning and consumption. But won’t a shotgunned squirrel be full of pellets? I guess it must not be too bad, because my grandfather used a Browning Sweet Sixteen, which is now mine.

I think shooting squirrels with a rifle is irresponsible unless you’re on a huge property, because you don’t know where the rounds will land if they miss or go through the rats. What if you like your neighbors?

Is it legal to shoot squirrels? Yes it is. I just checked. On my land, I will be allowed to kill 12 per day from October through March, using any gun known to man. In September and early October, I’ll have to use a bow or crossbow. What? Seriously? Who can hit a squirrel with a bow? Did squirrels write this law? Do they have lobbyists? Crazy.

I have 16 gauge ammunition, but it’s burglar-sized. I will need birdshot. Or squirrelshot, as the case may be.

The seller says they don’t get deer on the farm. Pity, but then I’m too lazy to shoot anything that big, so it doesn’t matter. Anything you shoot has to be skinned and butchered. It also has to be dragged home. I have a golf cart now, so the dragging would be okay, but as for the meat…I’m five minutes from Winn-Dixie.

I should add that I have zero hunting skills, so deer would be difficult even if I weren’t lazy. With squirrels, you just walk out, look up, and shoot. I can handle that.

The final candidate for assassination is the eastern diamondback rattlesnake, AKA crotalus adamanteus (unless Linnaeus has changed his mind). This is the heaviest poisonous snake on earth, and it can grow to a length of eight feet. One more item I don’t feel like lugging. The seller says the snakes left when he built the house, but I’m ready for them anyway. I carry a 10mm Glock wherever I go. Guess I should keep some ear plugs on me.

There may be turkeys on the farm, but I am happy to coexist with them. When I was a kid, the mother of a friend of mine roasted a wild turkey, and I have not forgotten the stench. From the odor, I’m not sure if it was wild or merely homeless. Not anxious to eat anything that smells like that.

I don’t think I could ever hunt birds after buying three baby parrots and weaning them myself. Maybe I could shoot turkeys, which are big and ugly, but since I don’t want to eat them, I guess I won’t.

I can still go out with a shotgun and threaten them with it, so they don’t get out of line.

I have to figure out the licensing requirements. The FWC website is not very clear. I want to rid myself of pests, but I don’t want fines or the inconvenience of prison time.

If I get a .22 WMR, of course, I will be here to write about it and post photos of my targets. Assuming they’re not too embarrassing.

Porch: There is no Substitute

Friday, August 4th, 2017

Hola, Amigos

I am back in the land of joy, better known as Miami. I returned from Ocala today, and I am already basking in the rudeness and stupidity. As soon as I hit Palm Beach County, other drivers got nastier and less able.

We closed on the new house today. It’s a done deal. The sellers will stay on for two weeks, and then we take possession. It’s still not entirely real to me.

The property is far nicer than anything I thought possible. It’s secluded, it’s large, it has woods, it has pasture, it has a big ol’ shop building, and it even has a huge sand berm which will be a fine rifle backstop. Sonny’s BBQ is five minutes away, as is Cracker Barrel. Tractor Supply is close. The nearest neighbor is a guy who built a gun ROOM in his garage. Not a safe. A room with a thick steel door. Think he’ll complain about me shooting? I don’t.

The sellers kept giving me stuff. Today they gave us the rockers on the front porch. The house has a huge collection of porches. There’s a front porch with a gazebo on one end. There’s a back porch. The shop has a porch. The pool has a patio, which is sort of a porch. Rockers are a necessity. I’m not sure what rockers cost, but today at Cracker Barrel, I saw they were charging between one and two hundred bucks for one.

My only serious whine right now is that my dad doesn’t share my enthusiasm. He truly hates Miami and can’t wait to move, and he likes Ocala and the house, but he’s not excited about it. He doesn’t have that Charlie-getting-the-keys-to-the-chocolate-factory feeling I have. So I pester my friends via text.

Two years ago he thought Miami was just fine. What happened? God happened. That’s all I can tell you. My dad has changed. He complains about the people. He complains about the traffic. He sounds just like me, only without the joy over the impending move.

It seems like he has slipped a notch over the last week or two. That’s the way these things work. I’m glad we finally got the house bought, because it might have been a very strange process further down the line. I don’t know what his capabilities will be in six months. I’m certainly glad he has been able to participate in the house hunt and get involved with decisions. I wanted a place where he would be happy.

I’m fairly sure I can get us out of here in three weeks. I don’t know how often I’ll have to come back. “Never” would be my choice.

I can’t figure out why the sellers are so nice. I could sell the machinery they sold me for twice what I paid, and they didn’t expect me to pay as much as I did. They came down a lot on the price of the house. The appraiser felt it was underpriced already. Maybe they’re just tired and ready to move.

I hope I got a good deal, but I was not trying to gouge anyone. I just wanted a fair price. Maybe I did better than that. There is no way to be sure.

Next time I go up I’ll try to take pictures and post them.

I’m beat. Time for pizza. I’m so tired I’m willing to eat Papa John’s.

I look forward to blogging from one of the many porches.

I Have no Reservations

Thursday, July 20th, 2017

Unless Motel Reservations Count

I am now so close to the closing on the new house, I have had to make a motel reservation. I won’t say the name of the motel, but I wish I could, because I would recommend all of you stay there when traveling in Florida. It’s the cleanest, most well-kept motel in the universe, as far as I know. It doesn’t have rugs! Hardwood (or convincing fake hardwood) all the way. Kiss your allergies goodbye in this place.

The pillows are so nice, I meant to remove the case on one and check the brand. How often can you say that about a motel? And the rooms run about $65 per night.

I still do not have my books packed. I was busy all day with my dad’s affairs, and I will be busy most or all of tomorrow.

I learned something that may be of use to you, if you care for someone who is slipping. You can make them pay you.

Heartless! Right? Well, not really. You may be dealing with someone who needs to have his or her assets reduced for various reasons. Estate tax is one reason. Medicaid eligibility is another. I have been advised to start charging my dad. I don’t know if I like that. I don’t want him telling me the customer is always right.

Here’s something weird. I have a list of people I pray for every day. I’m on the list. I keep praying God will help us not to be borrowers and beggars. I ask him to make us givers and lenders. It looks like he’s listening, because there’s a good chance I may have to lend my dad money so he can buy the new house. How about that! We have a ton of things going on right now, and cash is tied up in this and that, so it may be smarter for him to borrow from me than to spend his own cash.

I should foreclose on him, just to needle him.

Anyway, I thought it was remarkable.

Once your parents hit a certain age, you have to be careful about giving them things and paying for things. Everything they have has the potential to cause aggravation when they die. Besides, your worthless relations are likely to try to take everything you gave your parents.

When my dad’s mother died, my aunts and uncles literally pulled a U-Haul up to her apartment and cleaned it out. I got a crystal angel my dad gave her, and my sister got a porcelain horse.

I’ve learned a whole lot about taxes and estates and so on. You have to have a will, you have to have a power of attorney, you should have a living will, and then on top of all that, you have to think about avoiding probate. A will may not be enough, if you have a sleazoid relative who feels like suing. You may want to have real estate put into a trust so it goes from mom or dad straight to you, just like a joint bank account. My dad’s desire is to give me the house he’s buying. It would be a bummer if he passed away and I got thrown out after caring for him there in his declining years.

Here’s something ridiculous: in the state of Florida, you have to protect your parents’ wills personally. You have to preserve an original will if you want to get anything, and you can’t record it at the courthouse like a power of attorney or a deed.

What if your dad is worth a billion dollars? You could end up a situation where all you have to secure that money is four sheets of flammable paper. But a copy of the will is admissible, right? Yes. If you can find a disinterested witness who can confirm its contents. So you have to find a reliable person, show him the original will, make him learn it, and then hope he outlives your parents.

The answer, of course, is to put the will in a safe deposit box and hope the bank doesn’t burn down. But what if you have to change banks? Every time you get in the car with the will, you risk a very expensive accident.

I’m no estate attorney, but it seems like a smart person would keep copies of the will and have his best friends look at the original, just in case.

I’m not obsessing on my dad’s passing. He’s doing fine. But dealing with his assets and helping him buy a house and sell other properties has brought financial matters to the forefront of my attention. Joining a caregiver’s forum accentuated them even more. There are horror stories out there.

My grandfather died with a very bad will, and it screwed up the whole family. There are hard feelings. Some relatives have behaved badly. Belongings that should have gone to other people magically turned up in their homes. My aunt sued my cousins over an insurance policy. It may seem crass to get into the particulars of estate planning, but if you don’t, a loved one’s death may be the match that burns the family down.

I rarely hear from my relatives. They have holiday dinners without my dad and me. No invitations. I can understand why my sister isn’t invited. It would be like dumping a bag of angry snakes on everyone. But I haven’t done anyone wrong.

Too bad. I miss them. I miss Kentucky. But I can’t unburn what poor planning burned.

Soon I will be living in a place where people hang American flags on their houses and end emails with “Have a Blessed Day.” I will be able to shoot rifles from my front porch. I will be five minutes from Cracker Barrel. I’ll have a yard big enough to require a motor vehicle to tour it. Whatever struggles I have to go through in the next month or two will be well worth it. I’ll get us moved. I’ll get the financial stuff in order. Tiny price to pay.

I look forward to sharing photos of my first northern-Florida front yard pistol targets. Stay tuned.

Where is Mr. Haney When You Need Him?

Monday, July 17th, 2017

Tractor Dilemma

I am still trying to figure out what to do about farm machinery.

As I wrote earlier, the seller of the house I’m moving to wants to sell me his Kubota L3710 tractor and some other stuff. In order to avoid getting hosed, I’ve been studying the Internet to find out what I should do.

Today it occurred to me I might be able to get a bigger machine for less money. My lathe weighs about 4000 pounds, and the Kubota can only lift 1500. I’m not sure what my mill weighs. It would be nice to be able to move these tools myself, without using pry bars for the whole job. A bigger tractor would lift more.

To get a bigger machine, I would have to pick up something older. Is that a smart idea? I don’t know. My grandfather’s old Massey-Fergusons were abused and left outdoors, but they always did what he wanted, and a lot of people on the web say they’ve spend under $5,000 for good machines.

While I was looking into all this, I decided to get people’s opinions on old machinery brands like Ford, Massey-Ferguson, International Harvester, and so on. I learned something very interesting: there are no American tractors now.

That’s not quite true. If you buy a giant machine for tending 10,000 acres of wheat, it may be American. That’s not what I want. I need a typical farm tractor. Those aren’t made here any more.

John Deere sells Japanese tractors, and it’s my understanding that a lot of their stuff is Mexican. Massey-Ferguson sells Indian machinery. Indian! The scariest country of product origin in the machine tool world. The Indians still make line-shaft lathes because their electrical grid is so primitive.

If what I’ve read is right, the American tractor has been dead for a long time. Maybe thirty years. Where was I? Not buying tractors, I guess.

There go my concerns about not buying American. Unless I go antique-shopping, American isn’t an option.

The more I think about it, the more I think I should buy the seller’s tractor, IF I get a good price. If I know I can get my money out of it, no harm done. I can upgrade or downgrade later. If he wants too much, forget it. I won’t need a tractor for weeks after I move, so I don’t have to rush.

Someone on a forum wrote a great tip for buyers: check the reputation of the local dealer when you buy a used tractor, because this is the outfit you will depend on for help. I checked the reputation of the Kubota dealer in Ocala, and I did not find any good news. One buyer who has a Yelp account said the seller refuses to send people out to look at machines, so I suppose you would have to pay to have your broken tractor towed. The buyer said the dealer’s people were irresponsible, extremely slow, and dishonest, more or less.

The dealer responded. You would think they would have begged forgiveness and done their best to fix the problems, or that they would have at least argued. No, they posted what looked like a cut and paste from the boilerplate on their website. “XXX Tractors is dedicated to providing customers with the best possible service and the lowest prices anywhere, with a highly trained staff and a spacious, modern repair facility.” Something of that sort. No denials.

The message I got was, “Maybe this guy is right about us. We don’t give a crap.”

Maybe it’s the greatest tractor dealership on earth, but I have no way of knowing that, based on what I’ve seen so far. And here I am, thinking of buying a tractor they probably sold.

I shouldn’t criticize India without saying people seem to love their tractors. Mahindra tractors get fine reviews. The Koreans are also in the game now. There is a Korean brand named Kioti, and people like it.

I feel like I should try to buy the seller’s machines, and if the price is bad, I should tell him I’m not interested. Good enough.

It would be neat to have an old Ford or something, for a few grand. It would be a hassle, though. Right now I have a tractor in a convenient location where I can look at it and maybe send a mechanic. If I Craigslist an antique, I’ll probably be expected to do business beside a tractor in someone’s side yard, without much opportunity to check it out.

This reminds me of buying my machine tools. Today, I would not hesitate to check out an old mill or lathe. I know what goes wrong with them. Before I had machine tools, I didn’t have that kind of confidence. I couldn’t tell whether the machines were any good or not. Once I’ve used a tractor for a while, I’ll know what to look for when I buy a used tractor. But I’ll have to buy a used tractor in order to get that knowledge.

That’s some catch, that Catch-22.

The answer, of course, is to buy more tools. The more tools I have, the less I will need creepy tractor dealers. And the more tools I have, the more tools I have.

In a completely irrelevant vein, I talked to the realtor today. He talked to the seller and confirmed: I WILL BE ABLE TO SHOOT ON MY PROPERTY! The seller does it all the time. This has to be a dream.

On top of that, I just showed the Miami house I’m trying to sell to a young couple with affluent parents. The couple came alone yesterday, and today the parents came with them. In a Maserati. In expensive clothes. With questions about expanding the house. Could they borrow the plans? Of course they could. Maybe these people are serious. Finally, someone with money.

I don’t know if I can stand any more good news.

More updates as they unfold.

We Elected Screwball Squirrel

Sunday, July 2nd, 2017

“If Your Enemy is Quick to Anger, Seek to Irritate Him”

Wow. What country did I wake up in today?

Donald Trump just posted a doctored video–humorous doctoring, not typical leftist-media deceptive doctoring–of himself beating a man with a CNN logo for a head.

The video comes from a WWE appearance in which Trump attacked Vince McMahon and did a “ground and pound” on him just outside the ring.

What to say about this?

On the one hand, one of the funniest videos ever. On the other, something resembling an admission that the world has gone to hell.

Of course, liberals are pretending the video encourages Trump fans to beat up journalists. Problem, and I know this will make some people mad: virtually all of the folks who have been caught on camera attacking journalists in the last few years fall into two categories: Muslims and black people. I am sorry to say it, but it’s true. For some reason, people in these two groups are least likely to take journalistic neutrality seriously.

There is one big exception to the rule that conservatives don’t attack journalists, and oddly, he is a new member of Congress. This nut, who was running for office in Montana, grabbed a journalist and threw him to the floor. Also, a politician who was later convicted of some sort of corruption threatened to break a journalist in half, but he didn’t actually touch him.

Trump and other conservatives are constantly accused of encouraging violence against this group or that group, but it never pans out. On the other hand, Al Sharpton and Maxine Waters have encouraged people to riot, and at least one man was murdered as the result of Sharpton’s exhortations. Also, there has been a wave of violent attacks on conservatives by leftists who didn’t really need anyone to incite them. Black people have been known to attack people who simply looked like they might have voted for Trump.

I suppose someone, somewhere, will get a beating from leftists over this video. Trump should have thought of that, as well as the dignity of his office, before he released it. We may see a whole lot of beatings. Thank God I carry a gun. I should probably throw a rifle in the back seat and keep it there for a while.

Here’s one thought I want to get out before everyone else writes an opinion piece: I suspect that Trump just guaranteed his reelection in 2020. Whatever Trump’s failings are, he is right about CNN and the other leftists information censors. They lie, they omit, they exaggerate…they poison our minds with their false version of the truth; their fake news. Republicans are sick of it, and many of us (myself included) have wished we could see a president communicate openly about the press. Trump has finally granted our wish. I believe that in spite of our better instincts, many of us will be so grateful to Trump that we will commit to keeping him in office for another term.

I always longed to see a president open up about bias, but there is a difference between longing for it and thinking it was a good idea. Trump goes farther than he should, and he doesn’t admit fault when he’s wrong and the press is right. Posting this video was silly. It was over the top. I believe it will harden up and enlarge his base, but it will probably heat up the partisan cold war and push us closer to a violent and even more tawdry future. It won’t inspire conservatives to violence, but it will move leftists to ramp up their pattern of physical attacks on us, and that is likely to lead to a conservative backlash that will bring us down to their level.

Before Trump was elected, I said he would be the most entertaining president in history. You can’t fault me there. My prediction has come true in spades.

What’s next? Maybe this week Al Franken will moon Mitch McConnell.

The very existence of Senator Al Franken is proof we don’t care if our leaders have any dignity.

I know of two people who will be very put out about the video: Mika Brzezinksi and Joe Scarborough. This will knock their self-pitying, juvenile bickering right out of the headlines. When you’re an unremarkable person selling a commodity that can be replaced by virtually any unemployed celebrity who can speak, you need to be in the news as often as possible.

Have fun, Mr. President, but please keep appointing conservative judges, helping Israel, and doing what you can for Christians and the unborn. You are going to do whatever makes you happy, but please don’t forget about the rest of us.

And Here’s the Six-Point Buck I Shot From the Breakfast Nook

Tuesday, May 30th, 2017

I Now Hate Miami More Than I Thought Possible

I am in Ocala, otherwise known as the Deplorable Biosphere. In years to come, people like me will flood the area, dressed in MAGA hats and ill-fitting work shorts, to set up their workshops and gardens and prepare the ramparts from which to fire on the smelly liberal masses that will come to steal our food and TVs but certainly not our books or soap.

I was going to go to Ocala alone, but my dad decided to go with me.

We looked at five houses today. Was it five? Let’s see. Blue. Grey. Zebra chair house. Yellow house. House where I ran over the snake. Yes. Five. One was too small. One was too upscale. One was a little remote for my needs. The other two were great.

The first place I checked out is in the northern part of the county. It’s a very odd house. It’s one story, with lots of rooms. A widow lives there, and you can tell estrogen figured way too heavily in the home’s design and decor.

There are so many antiques in the house (and workshop) that if this woman dies, the American antique market will take a plunge that will take a decade to undo itself. When this stuff starts appearing on the market, trying to sell antiques in America will be like trying to sell snow cones in Siberia.

The house has a sewing room, an artist’s studio, a piano room, an office, a special food storage room, about 52 bathrooms, three fireplaces, and enough closet space for Elton John and Rupaul put together.

The thing that sold me was the workshop. The poor lady’s husband died before it could be completed. It’s a building the size of a house, with two central air units. It’s set up for two apartments plus a gigantic work area. The apartments haven’t been drywalled. It doesn’t have compressors yet, but once they’re installed, it will be possible to air condition the entire place. Two floors.

I would finish the downstairs apartment as a metal shop. The upstairs unit could be finished and used for electronics or just running away from the world.

The lot is only ten acres, but you would need a bow and arrow to hit the nearest neighbor’s house, so it’s not cramped. It has thick woods on one side, a cow farm on another, and across a road from a third side, more woods.

I know I would like this place because the husband’s deer stand is still hanging on a tree in the yard. Yes. He shot deer IN HIS YARD. He had a feeder and everything. Is that legal? I don’t care. I’m too lazy to shoot deer. More correctly, I’m too lazy to butcher deer. The shooting…I’m all over that.

The northern part of the county is fantastic. It’s prettier than the southern part. There is even less traffic. The roads are ideal for motorcycles. There are probably fewer snobs. I like it.

The other place I really like is south of the city. Some guy bought 34 acres in two long strips. He cleared one strip and built his house on the other. Together they make a rectangle with proportions similar to a smartphone.

The house is beyond criticism. It’s not very old. It’s big. It has a beautiful downstairs. Upstairs, there is what I would call a second living room. It’s carpeted. It’s comfortable. It has a bunch of storage rooms off of it. I wish I were lying on its floor right now.

The house has a huge garage, and if that’s not enough, there’s a 1000-square-foot cement block outbuilding with garage doors at each end. It has clapboards on it, so it looks like the house. It has a little carport thing on one side, where you can put chairs and goof off all day.

The owner played a dirty trick on us. He gave the realtor the key to his gas-powered EZ-Go, and she told us to take it and tour the whole property. After that, I was hooked.

First we roamed around on the wooded lot. Before I hit the gas, I asked the realtor if there were any animals to worry about, and she said there were two bulls. She said not to worry about them because they never moved. I figured she was joking or talking about concrete bulls, because real bulls can be territorial and crabby. Sure enough, we passed two black bulls sitting in the woods doing nothing. Maybe they were steers. I didn’t ask them to get up so I could check. In any case, they didn’t find us interesting at all. As we were passing them, I ran over a big blacksnake. Well. Better that than fresh manure.

The bulls are tax deflectors. Because there are two bulls on the land, the owner can call it agricultural property and get a property tax break. He has to put up with poop, however. The realtor said we could switch them for goats, which would eat the underbrush and leave the grass alone. Goat poop is easier to deal with than cow poop, but free cow manure would be good for gardening.

We then went through a gate and rode around the cleared lot. It was magnificent. It had big berms of excess dirt; perfect for use as pistol and rifle backstops. It had a big dry pond, which would ordinarily be a flaw, but again, helpful for target practice. You could go down in there and put up a silhouette.

I want this place. It’s more than I wanted to spend, but it would save my dad a lot of money over living where he is now. I would hate to tell you about his current property taxes and insurance.

If there is one thing I’ve learned on this trip, it’s that I hate Miami even more than I thought I did. I can’t believe I’m going back. Ever since I passed Orange County on the way north, I’ve been drinking in my surroundings. I’m like a man who was just rescued from the desert, who knows he’ll be going back soon. I want to stuff myself with northern Florida and make the feeling last when I’m back in El Republico De Los Bananas. This is like dreaming I’m honeymooning with Tyra Banks in the Plaza Hotel and then waking up in a trailer next to Caitlyn Jenner.

It’s time for planning and calculation. Maybe one of these places is ripe for the picking. It can take quite a while for a seller to get realistic about pricing.

Tomorrow I drive back to Bananaburg. I wish it could be the very last time.

Suspense

Monday, May 8th, 2017

Miami Departure Countdown Clock in Action

My big thrill for today is waiting to see whether my dad’s offer on a house has been accepted.

It’s hard to decide what I want. The house is great, and boy, do I hate Miami. Yesterday I got a sudden impression of what it would be like to be a couple of hundreds of yards from the new house, parked in a lawn chair under my own trees, with a beer cooler by my side. It was overwhelming. That makes me hope the offer will be accepted. Then I think about the possibility that my appraisal was too high, and I sort of hope we’ll be rejected so we can start over.

I found another place with potential. It’s 10 acres near Reddick, Florida. The lot is heavily wooded, with maybe seven acres cleared in the middle. The cleared area has blueberry bushes and apple trees. It’s more remote than the offer house, but “remote” is a tricky term up there. It’s remote in the sense that there are fewer small properties near it, but it’s just as close to important stuff as the offer house.

The Reddick house is next to a 10-acre lot covered with trees. If I could get ahold of that, how sweet life would be. I could shoot all I wanted. I would never see the neighbors unless I ran into them at Winn-Dixie or my ghillie suit slipped. Super nice. Also, I would be closer to Gainesville, which has certain attractions, such as real hospitals.

Today I read about a shooting on Miami Beach. It happened near the Fontainebleau, which used to be the number one luxury hotel on the Beach. I don’t know what happened, but many people who commented on the story had the same idea: the increase in black tourism may be the problem.

I hate to get into racial issues, because everyone deserves a fair chance to be evaluated as an individual. Nonetheless, facts are facts. Since the Beach became a popular black destination, things have gone downhill. Violence has increased a great deal.

In the past, the Beach was popular with foreigners. For some inexplicable reason, they think Miami Beach is a great place to visit. The beach itself is mediocre and crowded. There is no natural beauty. There is nothing to do except drink and sit in the sun. The traffic is an abomination. Virtually any of the better islands in the Bahamas is vastly superior. Nonetheless, Europeans kept coming. Then the rap kids started showing up, and guns started going off at all hours. People were scared. According to some online source I found, 70% of the money that pours into the Beach comes from foreigners, so when American blacks started showing up in numbers, it was very bad for the local economy. They don’t spend. Germans get drunk in expensive bars. Our new tourists drink from their own bottles and smoke dope. They like free entertainment, like walking and standing around.

The demographic change on the Beach has also freaked out the locals. The Beach used to be a refuge for gays, Jews, and liberal flakes. Now they have a problem. Their standard of living has dropped, and they’re afraid of violent crime, but their liberal fantasies make it impossible for them to discuss and acknowledge the reason. They can leave, but they can’t talk about what’s happening.

Various people are trying to change the cultural climate. At least that’s what journalists claim. Supposedly, movers and shakers who see where things are headed are quietly promoting events intended to draw white people and disrupt Black Beach Week. Of course, they’re being accused of racism. Whatever. It won’t work, so it doesn’t matter.

The Beach’s problems are getting a lot of attention, but all of Miami is a mess. Once you leave the southern part at the end of I-95, you are pretty much in ghetto territory until you get to the next county. The business areas aren’t too ghetto, but the residential areas are. There is a small ghetto directly north of my area. There is another small ghetto to the west. Down south a few miles, you run into another ghetto which is larger. Miami is being swallowed up. Cubans have pushed out to the west, and it looks like their areas will be the closest thing to large normal neighborhoods for the foreseeable future.

I don’t want to be here when times get bad. People who think ghetto think victimhood. They look at people who have more than they do, and they think it was stolen from them. They forget about their felonies, laziness, and riots, which actually caused their poverty. When life gets hard, they will be in my neighborhood, trying to take whatever they can, and they’ll see local residents as the bad guys. It won’t be looting. It will “reparations.”

I read about EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) weapons today. I think their danger is exaggerated, but maybe it’s not. Anyway, some experts believe that if EMP weapons go off here and affect transportation and electricity, people in suburbs and cities will starve while the problems are fixed. Imagine that. Folks who are used to getting EBT cards and buying all the chips and soda they want will be hungry. Most folks do not realize how fragile the food supply system is. If it went down for one week, most city people here would begin to starve. The food you see on grocery shelves looks abundant, but when deliveries stop coming, it can disappear in one day. I doubt a serious EMP strike will happen, but other types of logistics disruptions are possible, and I don’t want to be around if they occur.

The farm I’m looking at has enough ground to grow food. It has its own well. It has a generator. I can have chickens there. I can have cattle. I would be surrounded by nice Christian people who would cooperate with each other instead of invading each other’s homes. They would even cooperate in armed defense. That sounds pretty good to me.

Sometimes people can be perched on the edge of catastrophe and not know it. Maybe that’s where dependent city dwellers and suburbanites are right now.

If I’m out in the country when all goes sour, what will my neighbors and I do about friends who want to come join us? Scary thought. I want to be helpful, but if too many people get in a lifeboat, it sinks. When that happens, preparations become completely worthless. Shouldn’t responsible people be allowed to benefit from the rewards of their forethought? One would think so.

It would be almost funny to see city dwellers come out to the country to attack. It’s hard to find cover in the country. It’s hard to approach a house without being seen. They don’t know how to shoot. Their firearms tend to be cheap, and they rely on pistols, not rifles. If you come at me with a pistol at rifle range, you will be dead long before I can make out your face. I can kill your vehicle before you make it up my driveway. Country people have scoped rifles, and they buy ammunition in bulk. It’s nothing to have 5,000 rounds on hand. Big buys are not always motivated by fear. Buying in bulk is responsible, because it cuts down on shipping costs. I have a huge amount of ammunition, and I wasn’t even thinking of defense when I got it. But now it’s there if I need it, so…

It would be nice to see urban and suburban Americans repent and give up the liberal victimhood lie. That’s the preferable outcome. Brotherhood is the best option. It won’t happen, though. The entitlement mindset is too entrenched. A small minority will come around, and I say thank God for them. The rest, well, you can’t help them. They’re like the people who stood in shoulder-deep water, clawing at the hull of the ark.

I hope I’m out of here soon. Please pray for me, and pray for all the people in America who need to drop their denial and come to God’s side.

House

Monday, April 24th, 2017

Time to Chop Miami’s Stubborn Tentacles

The house hunt has moved into a new stage. I made an offer on the green house I wrote about a while back.

I am not what you would call a savvy real estate buyer, even though I was a realtor in a past life. I did mostly rentals. While I was part of some sales, real estate is boring, and I forgot a lot of what I had learned. I did the best I could this time around. I picked my dad’s brains. He has bought a ton of real estate. In fact, he’s buying the new house. That was the deal we made. I would not leave Miami until he did, and he would buy a nice place where we would both live. He needs looking after these days, my mother has been dead for 20 years, and there is no one else who will do it.

I considered hiring a single-agent realtor. Ordinarily, realtors look out mainly for themselves. They deal “fairly” with buyers and sellers, but if you’re a buyer, they’re not on your side. There are things they won’t tell you, and they don’t care if you lose your life savings. A single-agent represents you alone and has a fiduciary duty to you.

The problem with hiring a single-agent realtor is that they get a big fee up front, and they can’t show you any of their own listings. That’s not good, if your agent works for a big company. Also, you’re kind of stuck with the agent you hire. I decided to forget about it and negotiate and so on for myself.

I don’t know a whole lot about northern Florida house prices, but after looking at a bunch of places, I got a feel for the situation. The house we liked seemed overpriced by around 15%. The sellers paid even more for it, so they got burned, and they were still burning me after pricing the house to take a loss.

I decided to get an appraisal. I may not be much of a buyer, but I’ve been involved in a lot of sales, and an appraisal just seemed like common sense. I had a listing agent, a transactional agent, and a seller, all trying to get as much money as possible, and none of them represented me. I paid some guy to appraise the place, and lo and behold, the price came in slightly lower than my own guess. The listing price is 18% higher.

The agent was amazed that I had it appraised. He said very few people do that. Seriously? Do people really make bids on houses without getting appraisals? I can’t comprehend that. How do you know what to offer? Asking prices are fantasy figures. Realtors make a little effort to look at comparable sales, but in the end, they guess. Appraisers aren’t like that. They take measurements and use tables and so on, and THEN they factor in other sales. No price is carved in stone, but an appraisal means a whole lot more than an asking price.

Maybe I’m missing something here, but it seems crazy to make an offer on something without knowing the value. The appraisal was expensive, but compared to the difference between the asking price and the appraised price, it’s microscopic. Seems like a good investment.

The agent was trying to tell me I couldn’t get burned. He said his contracts always say the deal is off if the house doesn’t appraise for more than the purchase price. So you’re supposed to make an offer based on nothing and then pray the bank’s appraiser proves you’re right? With real money you actually worked for?

I think the sellers are old. The house has two lift chairs in it. By that, I mean they boost you to your feet when it’s time to go watch Judge Wapner. God rest his soul. Young people don’t have lift chairs. Maybe they’re old and rich and don’t care at all about money. There must be some reason why they spent way too much on the house and equipment and then never felt like they had to visit.

I don’t know what the story is. I’m not all that optimistic about getting the house. The asking price and offer are nearly $200,000 apart. They may just tell us to jam it.

It would be nice to make a deal. The house has a fantastic attached garage plus a detached garage big enough for all sorts of stuff. I can put a split air conditioner in the main garage and stick my machine tools in there. I’ll never leave. It’s almost a thousand square feet. The lot is big enough to feel relaxed on, although sooner or later someone will try to build on the pasture next door. Maybe we should try to pick it up.

I can’t imagine life with no traffic. What’s it like? I barely recall.

I don’t think I’ll be able to shoot out back. The lot is pretty flat. Maybe if I put up a berm.

I feel good that I made a move. It makes me nervous, handling my dad’s money. He’s all for it, though, and both of us hate Miami. I needed to break the ice and start something moving. Now if this deal doesn’t work, I’ll be less stiff about starting the next one.

What will I miss about Miami? There must be something. Fishing was fun, but I’m over it. Boating to the Bahamas was a neat experience, but I’m old, my dad can’t be allowed to steer the boat, and there is no one to go with us. Also, the Bahamas are all about drunkenness and fish. I don’t care if I never see another fish again, and I have developed an aversion to bars.

Miami has no culture at all. The restaurants aren’t great. The air smells like damp socks. There is no twilight, because of the latitude. After May 1, it never gets cool at night. The traffic is getting so bad, in a year, everything may have to arrive by drone. All the ethnic groups hate each other. Gas is expensive. Food is expensive. Politics are getting more and more liberal; young Cubans want to be social justice warriors and teach their conservative parents a lesson.

Horrible things happened to my family in Miami. I can’t even drive up I-95 without thinking about the past. I remember my dysfunctional childhood and the decades of misery we went through with my sister. I remember my mother dying in Baptist Hospital, after a short, bleak life in which not one of her dreams came true. She was treated very badly. She was never appreciated. God did her a favor when he took her away from us.

I never have anything to do with the people I went to high school with. They remind me of a terrible time in my life, and I was never close to any of them anyway. I thought I had a few friends, but I didn’t know what real friends were like until I got older. If I were in a mall right now and I saw someone I went to high school with, I’d turn away and wait for them to move on.

I should be able to think of something I’ll miss if I work on it long enough, but right now, it’s not coming. Even the churches here treated me badly.

Let’s be honest. I won’t miss Miami at all. That’s my nature. When I cut the cord, it’s really cut. Ask any of the many people I’ve abruptly ejected from my circle. I expect to be glad I’m not in Miami, every day for the rest of my life.

People in Marion County will not turn out to be the answer to my prayers. I know that, or at least I think I know that. But they’ll speak English, they’ll be polite, and they’ll have a lot more in common with me in terms of religion and politics. That’s good enough. I don’t think I’ll ever feel at home on earth, but some places are better than others.

Because this will be a cash deal, I could conceivably find myself moving stuff north before summer starts. I didn’t think about that until today. Generally, closings take a long time because of mortgage delays. Man. This is starting to feel real. Ack. God will get me through it.

Prayers would be appreciated.

Hi; I’m Ann Coulter

Sunday, April 23rd, 2017

And I’m “Peaked in 2000” Ann Coulter

I made a big mistake yesterday. I watched some clips of a Comedy Central roast. Depraved, vicious, unimaginative humor at its best. Not a positive contribution to my life.

You will want to know who they roasted. Answer: Ann Coulter. The problem is this: they claimed they were roasting Rob Lowe.

Rob got quite a few zingers; no doubt about that. But if you look the roast up and see how people reacted to it, you will find that most of the venom was heaped on Ann Coulter. Lowe faded into the background, as if his presence were an afterthought.

If you look at Youtube and check out pirated clips of the roast, you will see an endless array of watchlists and videos with titles like, “ANN COULTER DESTROYED AT ROB LOWE ROAST!!!!!!!!!!!” People who hate Coulter have carpet-bombed Youtube with their videos. It’s almost as if an old Nazi collaborator from Hungary were paying them to do it. It’s relatively difficult to find clips focusing on the other attendees. The Youtube hive, with its editing, did its best to make Coulter’s weak performance seem like a Hindenburgian disaster. That’s something of an exaggeration.

I didn’t see the whole thing, because, why would I? To call it mean-spirited would be like calling Rosie O’Donnell a tomboy. All Comedy Central roasts are mean-spirited, and they’re also extremely tasteless. If you want to watch third-tier comedians you dimly remember call each other things like “whore” and, well, other things I don’t want to repeat here, Comedy Central roasts are right up your alley. If you’re looking for clever, relatively gentle ribbing, forget it.

There used to be something called The Friars’ Club, and they put on roasts. Dean Martin was the host, I think. They roasted people like Sinatra and Milton Berle. The roasts were funny and clean. The meanest person who appeared was Don Rickles, and if you think Don Rickles was mean, you completely missed the point of his act. What Comedy Central does now is much different. It’s as if a bunch of mentally ill teenagers broke into the Friars’ Club studio while Dean was away. On top of the crudeness and hostility, the performers tend to be people who have a hard time finding work. David Spade, Lisa Lampanelli (who?), Jeff Ross (who?), and other D-listers show up, probably to get money to pay for groceries.

The shots at Ann Coulter were really something. Some were well within the expansive bounds of Comedy Central roast standards. Others were so vicious, they were too disturbing to be funny.

The thing the performers, writers, and professional audience failed to understand is this: roasts are only funny when you pick on people you don’t actually hate. When Norm MacDonald picks on David Spade, it’s fine, because they get along in real life. When people who truly want to see Ann Coulter die insult her, it’s an off-putting glimpse of real hatred, which is not funny.

It’s strange; it sounds like I’m endorsing their usual standard of abuse. I’m not. They have no concept of boundaries. I’m just saying that whatever limits they generally recognize were violated egregiously when Ann Coulter showed up.

Here’s the meanest thing they did to her: when she took her turn at the end of the roast, a lot of the people in the room refused to laugh. Some just stared at her. It was obvious that they decided, in advance, to see to it that she bombed. That’s a very cruel thing to do to an entertainer.

Here’s an interesting thing about comedy: it only works when the audience consents. If the audience isn’t with you, you WILL bomb. It doesn’t matter how funny you are. This is true of all performing acts, but it’s particularly true of comedy.

I remember seeing Steve Martin perform when I was in high school. His opening act was John Sebastian, the singer who wrote “Welcome Back” and “Coconut Grove,” among other circa-1970 hits. Nobody wanted to see him sing. It was a mistake to book him. He had a tape machine with him instead of a band. He went through his whole set while people screamed at him, booed, and gave him the finger. No encore. He looked like he wanted to grant the audience’s wish and disappear. When the tape ended, he was dying to get off the stage. Steve Martin came out, did his set in a hurry, and left as soon as he could without violating his contract. He seemed furious.

That’s what the Coulter roast was like.

Coulter is a tough bird, but she was clearly knocked off balance by the toxic deluge of abuse. Even Jewel, whose stage persona is an inoffensive, girlish waif who sings about love and daisies and so on, said this: “I do want to say as a feminist that I can’t support everything that’s been said tonight, but as someone who hates Ann Coulter, I’m delighted.” This was after an SNL cast member named Pete Davidson called Coulter the c-word.

Coulter’s delivery was slow, and it sounded as if she had been drinking. Her jokes were not great, but they seemed much worse than they were, because so many people in the studio had decided to punish her with silence.

Coulter’s performance was marred by her choice of material. Years ago, her buddies got together and wrote a Fox News comedy show called “The Half-Hour News Hour.” It featured people like Manny Coto (who?) and Mike Rowe (no threat to Dave Chappelle). The show was really bad. After the roast, she said she and her friends had written her jokes. Naturally, I thought of the Fox show. I strongly suspect the same crew was the engine behind her Comedy Central bus plunge. “We’re going to roast Major Strasser. Round up the usual suspects.”

Conservatives hate new talent. They’re all about promoting people who already have a piece of the pie. They support hacks. The Fox show was a great example of what happens when a movement eats its young. Coulter gets exposure, P.J. O’Rourke gets exposure, Tucker Carlson (unbelievably) gets the Megyn Kelly and Bill O’Reilly shows, Mike Rowe gets called in to write things, but talented people who haven’t made it yet are ignored.

Remember Allahpundit? Excellent writer, right? Where is he now? Writing for Hot Air. A contrived corporate blog. We will never see him on TV. He will never be asked to write for a major TV show or a conservative movie comedy. Jeff Goldstein never made it. Moxie never made it. What’s-his-name at IMAO never made it. Nobody gets called up from the minors except for untalented tokens who prove how diverse we are.

Of course, Coulter bombed. The whole room hated her, and she was playing in an NFL game backed up by a squad of midgets. Okay, not NFL. More like a college team on whatever level is below MIT.

I sound like I support Ann Coulter. I don’t. I got over that years ago, when I saw how nutty she really was. I’m just marveling at the cruelty of the left and the foolishness of Team Coulter and the conservatives who decide who makes it and who doesn’t.

For all her faults and errors, which are substantial, Ann Coulter is brilliant. She’s the one who labeled illegal aliens “undocumented Democrats.” She has an extremely rare ability to think on her feet and cut opponents to the quick. On Comedy Central, she looked like an amateur who was out of her element. Nice job, leftists and GOP-approved Coulter stooges.

I don’t actually care about what happens on pity-inducing TV roasts staffed by performers we feel sorry for. What really interests me about the story is the Christian angle. While Coulter is the farthest thing from a preacher, and while she is not a good role model for any Christian, she belongs to the faith, and she sometimes promotes our beliefs. People on the left hate her for that. They can’t tell a saint from Judas Iscariot. We’re all evil in their minds, and all cruelty toward us is considered justified. This, not her harsh humor, is the main reason she was treated so badly.

I sincerely believe there were people on the dais who would publicly celebrate if Ann Coulter were burned alive in a house fire. I think some of them would happily beat her to death with their own fists. Their hostility is representative of the general mood of leftists. Right now, lynchings are illegal, so leftists content themselves with beating Republicans at political rallies. In the future, they will have more “flexibility,” as Obama once put it. When those days come, we will see people act out, with their bodies, the hostility the roast performers heaped on Coulter with their tongues.

In 1900, no one would have thought the civilized, orderly Germans and Austrians capable of shooting babies or pushing Jews into gas chambers. At that time, they were not allowed to do things like that. As the government became more supportive of violence and hatred, people showed what they were really capable of doing. We’re going to see that level of brutality here, before long. We’re already seeing it at Trump rallies. Think how bad it will be when the gun-grabbers disarm the prey. The violence will come to our doorsteps, even in places like Florida and Texas.

What a strange time to be alive.

Many times, I’ve thought to myself that Jews in prewar Europe should have known what was coming. I’ve wondered why they didn’t leave while they could. Now I look around at American Christians, and I ask similar questions. Don’t we know what’s on the way? Why aren’t we leaving big cities and blue states? When the real violence starts, the TV segments and Youtube videos won’t come from West Virginia and Wyoming. They’ll come from places like L.A, D.C., and New York City. Conservatives in those places are already afraid to go out in public with conservative gear on, and they’re afraid to expose their beliefs at work. If things are already that bad, why stick around?

Jews are going to get the worst of it. Christians can move to the country, but Jews are city people. Orthodox Jews are literally incapable of surviving on their own. They have to have synagogues, yeshivas, kosher butchers, and so on. They’re not allowed to hunt. Look where they concentrate. Chicago, New York, L.A., Boston, and South Florida. Liberal areas with big, angry ghettos. Not a promising picture. At least the Jews in Florida can carry guns.

When the mobs come for Jews, most Jews will be surprised. “We voted for government programs! We voted for ‘immigrants’! We rode with the Freedom Riders! We fought poll taxes and literacy tests!” It won’t matter. Persecution isn’t based on your behavior. It’s based on God’s love for you. Anything God loves is hateful to Satan’s children.

It’s sort of like the Army’s hatred of Clevinger in Catch-22:

Yossarian had done his best to warn him the night before. “You haven’t got a chance, kid,” he told him glumly. “They hate Jews.” “But I’m not Jewish,” answered Clevinger. “It will make no difference,” Yossarian promised, and Yossarian was right.

I don’t care what happens to Ann Coulter’s career. She is not helpful. But I do care what cruelty to Ann Coulter presages.

Oh, well. I’m on my way out of this place. I’m going to move to an area where you have to have Amazon Prime to get a bagel. If riots go mobile and start visiting red areas, I won’t have to use my guns to protect myself. My neighbors will beat me to it. I should be safe much longer than anyone in South Florida.

Tolerant Leftists Keep Beating Hate-Filled, Unarmed Trump Supporters

Sunday, April 16th, 2017

Christian Apathy and Self-Righteousness Feed Persecution

Fascinating news on the persecution front: a reporter from Mother Jones has criticized the police for failing to prevent liberal goons from beating Trump supporters in Berkeley.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it. You can look at the story for yourself.

Before I go on, you should know that Mother Jones is a disgraceful far-left rag. It’s named for a woman who helped found the IWW, a socialist labor organization. It’s not Infowars, Zerohedge, The Blaze, Hot Air, or WND. Mother Jones is not an organization that favors the right or even treats us fairly.

For some reason I can’t fathom, Trumpers decided to have a rally in Berkeley. This is a little bit like the Anti-Defamation League protesting in front of the Fuhrerbunker. When a conservative demonstrates in Berkeley, knowing he will not be allowed to bring arms, he is almost demanding a beating. I’m not saying it’s okay to beat conservatives; just that they knew or should have known what was coming.

The rally was set for noon, and like most modern conservative functions, it was attended primarily by violent leftists. They arrived hours early and waited for the victims to show up. The rally started, the beatings began, and the police sat by and watched. Their participation was very limited.

The reporter’s name is Shane Braun. He shot a video of two cops sitting around watching the riot. Here’s a partial transcript:

“I’ve been watching all day people get beat up pretty bad and I haven’t seen you guys around much,” Bauer said.

“Okay, and?” the officer responded.

You can see the whole story at The American Mirror.

One Trumpite was surrounded by a mob and beaten with fists, feet, and a skateboard.

So what’s my take on this? Anger? Outrage? A call for conservatives to beat up liberals? Not really. I’m here mainly to criticize conservatives.

First of all, most of the red hat wearers seem to be unaware that we brought this problem on ourselves. Christian or not, conservatives are beaten because the left hates God. In the leftist mind, we are associated with Jesus, and Jesus is against abortion, drugs, uncleanness, insolence, pride, free contraception, and the division of Israel. Even if you’re a conservative atheist, if you get a beating from a leftist mob, it’s rooted in persecution of Christians. Strong Christians get a lot of protection from God. Weak ones raise up and feed their own enemies. Our rebellion and pride caused the goon organizations to form and strengthen, and we also gave power to the spirits that encourage mayors and cops to get in on the persecution.

Second, we are losing battles God never asked us to fight in the first place. Remember the Bible? When God sent his servants into battle, and they were in a state of obedience, they won. When they got into squabbles on their own, or they went into battle spiritually naked, they lost. Does anyone seriously think God told the demonstrators to go to Berkeley? Of course he didn’t. This wasn’t his operation, so he had no obligation to provide air support. Like a good friend of mine likes to say, “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

Third, where is our spiritual warfare? We’re having ridiculous rallies all the time, but where are the huge prayer meetings and mass repentances? When things don’t go our way, we’re supposed to come before God with contrite spirits and ask him to correct us so his blessings can flow. I’m sure some people are doing that, but I haven’t seen it on the news. If there was a movement of repentance and prayer, we would know about it, just like we know about the pointless rallies.

We never stop blaming the godless for what’s happening in America, but aren’t we supposed to be the ones who have the most power? We haven’t used it. Instead, we’ve attached ourselves to the mob. We participate in their sins. We admire them. We fawn on their nastiest celebrities. We listen to their corrupt music. We elect abortion lovers. If we had been praying and repenting daily, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

We’ve let ourselves down, and we’ve also let the godless down. Many of them can be saved, but we’re too busy acting just like them to pray for them and provide an example.

If you think I’m wrong, and that numbers and might are all that matter, consider a few things. In Genesis, eight people defeated the entire human race and came through its destruction unscathed. After that, Lot and his daughters walked out of Sodom unharmed. Gideon and 300 men wiped out the Midianite army. Samson killed a thousand men by himself. David, who was too small to wear a man’s armor, killed Goliath with a sling. Jesus walked unharmed through a crowd of people who wanted to throw him off a cliff. The Jews couldn’t touch him until he gave himself to them.

If it seems shocking that the police would allow masked criminals to beat peaceful demonstrators, wake up. Who is the God of this world? It’s not Yahweh. He’s an absentee owner. Satan rules this planet, with limited interference from God. Things are going to get worse, not better, and the answer is not to study rioting and become as proficient as those who hate us.

We’re supposed to do well because of grace, not hard work or the power of our own puny arms. We don’t get grace, because we teach each other that God helps those who helps themselves (the opposite of Biblical teaching). Every time one of us gets a stick across the face, it’s because we told God, “We got this,” and God folded his hands and said, “Fine with me.”

I get way too upset with the left. That’s silly. They’re not in the camp. They’re doing what they’re supposed to do. Satan’s children are supposed to be willfully stupid, violent, and deluded. They’re not going to change because we fight them or criticize them. Generally, they’re going to hell, and God is not overly concerned about their behavior. Our concern should be with our own hearts and minds. We should be thinking about our own shortcomings and repenting.

Don’t ask me to go to a rally. Even here in Florida, where I would be allowed to take guns, I wouldn’t go unless I felt God wanted me there. I don’t want to be identified with the people who think screaming and fighting are the way to win.

I have to say that it would be a different picture if leftist criminals attacked a conservative demonstration in a state with sane gun laws. In California, we see what happens when only criminals have guns. Has leftists ever managed to beat Trump supporters at rallies in Texas or Florida? I wonder. Criminals go where they know they’re welcome.

Living in areas where Satan’s children have complete dominance is a bad idea. My best guess is that God wants most of us out of such places, just as he wanted Lot out of Sodom. We’re not going to win the Bay Area or Key West over. We’re never going to get anywhere in Baltimore or Chicago. If you stay too long, you’re just putting God to the test, expecting him to save you from your own bullheadedness.

Most Christians who live in godless areas aren’t there because they want to convert people. They almost always have carnal reasons. The climate. The schools. The culture. No one moves to Miami Beach to get closer to God.

I was so stupid to come back to Miami, where maybe 40% of the population actively worships demons. But I suppose God put me here because it’s where I belonged at the time. I was rebellious, so I belonged with the rebellious.

Persecution will increase, and people who insist on subjecting themselves to it unnecessarily will continue riding in ambulances. I want no part of the battle for the sidewalk.

Better Call Bass Pro

Thursday, April 13th, 2017

Mike Ehrmantraut is a Spendthrift

I’m highly distraught today, with ample reason. I’ve been watching Better Call Saul, and the writers completely screwed up the scenes in which Mike Ehrmantraut tries to kill Hector Salamanca with a scoped rifle.

Sorry if you’ve been asleep for two years and consider anything in the above paragraph to be a spoiler.

Mike went to some kind of outlaw gun dealer, and the dealer sold him a “7.62” bolt-action rifle with a scope. He sold it to him out of the back of a car, in the desert. They acted like they were handling canisters of sarin gas; as if there would be big trouble if anyone found out the deal was going down.

I have all sorts of problems with this.

First of all, what is a “7.62” sniper rifle? The Russians have a 30.06 equivalent called the 7.62mm x 54R, and you could certainly use it in a sniper rifle, but I’ve never heard of anything like that. Nothing modern, in a bolt action.

The Soviets used to use 7.62mm x 54R in their battle rifles, and they had sniper versions. That was like a billion years ago. Later on, they had a semiauto called the SVD or Dragunov. Other countries produced an AK74 version called the Romak III, PSL, and God knows what else. Mike’s gun didn’t look like any of these guns. It looked like a deer rifle with a cheap plastic camo stock. Is there a 7.62 rifle that looks like that? I’ve never heard of it.

Second thing…it’s 100% legal to own a sniper rifle, even in most totalitarian states where Hillary got most of the votes. Sniper rifles, with a number of weird exceptions, are similar, or even identical, to hunting rifles. In Vietnam, our snipers used the Winchester Model 70, which was (and is) a common deer rifle. Carlos Hathcock, the king of Vietnam snipers, used a Model 70 in 30.06 with an 8-power scope. I don’t actually recall the highest power among my (completely legal) scopes, but I believe it’s 14. Leupold sells a 25-power scope. You can just walk into a store and buy it, in front of a cop! No desert. No car trunk.

All Mike had to do was walk into a sporting goods store one state over, buy a deer rifle with cash, and go home. Or he could buy a used one in a private sale. He could shoot Salamanca with that and leave a mall-bought 30.06 round in him, and no one would have been able to trace it back to him. There are probably a hundred thousand 30.06 rifles in New Mexico. Throw the gun into a river, and you’re golden.

Mike’s rifle had what is known as a bull barrel or varmint barrel. This is a heavy barrel about an inch in diameter. The idea is that it will be slower to heat up and deflect than a thin barrel. Question: why do you need a bull barrel when you’re only shooting Hector once or twice? It’s not going to heat up. The gun would be heavier to carry through the desert than a gun with a regular barrel, and the cops would wonder why your sporting rifle (in a caliber not generally associated with prairie dog and coyote hunting) had a barrel like that. That barrel says, “I think I’m cute.” Way too flashy.

Here you go; I found Mike’s ideal rifle: the Savage Arms Model 11 BTH. It has a nifty target stock. Retail: $982. Legal, and not too expensive. Spend $500 on glass, and you’re ready to pop Salamanca.

Here’s something else that bugs me: Mike has terrible taste in pistols. I’ve seen him use a Beretta 92 and some kind of magnum snubnose revolver. Why? Why? Why?

The Beretta is a great-looking gun, but it’s not all that reliable, and it’s heavy. That stupid revolver is useless at over 20 feet, it’s heavy, it only holds 6 rounds, the recoil would be crazy, and it takes a long time to reload. A real Mike Ehrmantraut would have carried a Glock. It’s homely. It’s cheap. It’s incredibly reliable. It’s accurate. It’s light. It holds up to 18 rounds. You can’t trace the bullets because of the way the barrel is cut. Glocks are easy to find, and they are extremely common. No cop is going to say, “Well, we may not have a witness, but how many guys carry a Glock?”

I guess now I’ll Google and see if I’m wrong.

Well, now. Knowing relatively little about rifles, I did not know this: some people refer to the .308 Winchester round as 7.62mm. If you’re a gun person, you know that 7.62mm equals .30 caliber. Personally, when it comes to American rifles, I have always heard “308,” and I happen to have one, but maybe I’m out of the loop. Thing is, who carries one in bolt action? It’s a machine gun caliber, and it’s also used in the AR10, but bolt action?

Hmm…one website says .308 is the “standard” for sniping. Is that true? I hear so much about things like .338 Lapua and whatnot. I always assumed the .308 was out of style. I just figured we had gone straight from 30.06 to things like the .300 Winchester Magnum.

Google says Georgia Precision makes a bolt action .308 for snipers, and it does have a camo stock and bull barrel. Buy why would Mike want one? The recoil is bad, and .308 is not the greatest round for sniping. I mean, if you’re going to go with a Rolls-Royce, why not get a kooky boutique caliber that has less recoil and more accuracy? Why not a Creedmoor or Grendel or .260 Remington?

A slug in one of those calibers would be rare enough to get the cops’ attention, though. I guess .308 makes more sense. Same slug as a 30.06.

The Georgia Precision gun costs $4100 without glass or even a free beer coozy. What?? Mike wasn’t crazy. He would never have spent that much money to shoot a guy at 200 yards. I’ll tell you who would have: the guy whose Adam’s apple Mike bent in the parking garage. Remember? The guy who did a voice for a famous video game. After taking his gun and hitting him in the throat with it, Mike made fun of his Wilson Combat 1911. Guns like that are for plastic surgeons and securities traders who close both eyes when they shoot.

Imagine this. The cops find a dead Mexican with a weird .308 Prvi or Lapua or some such round in his chest. Then they find you with a $4100 .308 rifle. Is that a good situation to be in? No. You want a 30.06 with ammunition from Bass Pro Shop, plus a used rifle that cost you $750. If it’s accurate enough to hit an antelope, it will work fine on Hector.

Next time, maybe I’ll write about Mike tailing people in a highly distinctive 1988 Chrysler New Yorker. In a world jammed full of silver Japanese sedans, who in his right mind spies on people in an American car so out of style and butt ugly it would stand out in a wrecking yard even after crushing?

I guess I need to learn more about sniper rifles, but I am positive the Better Call Saul 7.62mm mess made no sense at all. You don’t need a rare gun in order to be a sniper, and whatever you buy will almost certainly be legal.

Miami’s Streets Now Safe From Fiends Waving Toy Trucks

Wednesday, April 12th, 2017

Autistic Man Saved by Horrific Marksmanship

I just saw an interesting story on the web. Miami cop Jonathan Aledda just got charged with “Attempted manslaughter,” according to the news. I find it hard to believe that’s a real charge. Manslaughter, by definition, means the killing of a human being “without malice aforethought.” Officer Aledda definitely intended to kill somebody, so it sounds like attempted murder to me, and I seem to recall that in Florida, attempted murder was replaced by things like aggravated assault and aggravated battery.

I’m too lazy to check.

Here’s what happened. An autistic man was sitting in the street waving a toy truck and screaming. One of his caretakers, a black man (spoiler alert, I guess) was with him. The caretaker’s name is Charles Kinsey. The cops somehow got the idea that the autistic man was a criminal waving a gun. The cops tried to kill the autistic man, and one of the bullets hit Kinsey. The other two didn’t hit anyone at all.

Kinsey was lying on his back with his arms in the air for quite some time, yelling in a loud voice that the man with the truck was autistic and that he was a caregiver. He made everything extremely clear, and he asked the cops not to shoot him. Because he has seen the TV news.

Naturally, Aledda, a SWAT team member, shot anyway.

No one has come up with a credible reason for the shooting. There is a video of the incident, and a person sitting at home looking at a PC can instantly tell there was no reason to shoot anyone. Somehow that escaped the cops on the scene. At the very least, it escaped one of them.

I keep thinking about that charge. Now that I reflect on it, it’s a strange fact pattern. Usually, when you have someone who is injured by someone trying to kill with a firearm, the person injured is the intended victim. In a situation like that, aggravated battery with a deadly weapon seems like the obvious charge. Since Kinsey wasn’t the intended victim, maybe the State’s Attorney decided attempted manslaughter made more sense. Aledda had malice aforethought, but the malice was toward the autistic man, not Kinsey.

I don’t know the answer. It shows you how weird the law can be.

To me, the case is interesting for more than one reason. Obviously, I am very curious to hear Aledda’s defense. The cops were on the scene for a long time, and they communicated with the victim. They had to know there was no danger. Why shoot? Everyone wants to know. The other thing that’s interesting is this: Aledda is a SWAT officer, he used a highly accurate rifle, he was 152 feet away (50 yards), and none of his bullets hit the target.

That’s interesting to me, because I’m always talking about how badly cops shoot. They show up at the range with black tactical pants covered with velcro and zippers. Their hair is full of gel. They’re covered with suspiciously swollen muscles. They wear $300 sunglasses. They look like movie action heroes. Then they start shooting, and they’re lucky if they hit the paper.

It’s weird to be this right about something that shouldn’t be true at all. The cops should be some of the best marksmen on earth. The government pays for their ammunition. They shoot for nothing. They get free “expert” (?) training. Think how good an average person would be, with a local government to pay for ammunition, targets, and range fees. If I shot 250 rounds a week, I’d be ready to perform in a Wild West Show.

Aledda isn’t even a normal cop. I completely understand why an old guy who works a school crossing might not be a great shot. He might not see much reason to put in range time, and he would not be selected for his marksmanship. But SWAT? Special WEAPONS and Tactics? Shouldn’t they be able to shoot?

In case you’re not a shooter, and you don’t understand what shooting at fifty yards is like, I’ll put it like this. Shooting while standing, with no breath control, using a dubious .22 rifle, I could kill rabbits all day at fifty yards. Aledda missed something ten times as wide as a rabbit, THREE TIMES.

He had great equipment. He had a cop car to rest the gun on. The target was stationary. He had ages to aim. Come on!

It’s amazing that he missed at all, and it’s even more amazing that he started firing with Kinsey so close to the target. That would be a dumb idea for a good shot, but as one of the world’s worst rifle shots, Aledda had to know how enormous an area his shots were likely to cover.

I keep thinking about those charges. I would have gone for attempted murder (autistic) and aggravated battery (Kinsey). I think. Seems to me Aledda committed two crimes. After all there were two victims, and they were harmed in different ways by the same actions. The autistic man was assaulted, and Kinsey was battered.

Another question: why three shots? If you shoot at someone close to someone you think is innocent, and you miss the intended target once at close range, isn’t it an indication that you’re not up to the job? Shouldn’t you realize, after missing the first shot, that it’s time to give the rifle to someone else?

Surely he didn’t hit Kinsey with one of the first two shots. Firing again after shooting an innocent person would be beyond comprehension.

I don’t get this case at all. Maybe Aledda is so incompetent, I just can’t wrap my mind around it. I keep looking for an explanation, but maybe it’s right in front of me, and I can’t ingest it.

What’s the lesson from this story? That’s a good question that just occurred to me. I can think of some things.

1. The cops really, really cannot shoot. It’s not my imagination. If you’re anywhere near a cop with a gun in his hand, run for cover, because absolutely anything is possible. Never, ever, ever bet your life on a cop making a good shot or even not making a catastrophically bad one, and if you’re ever in a tight spot with a cop, do not even think of giving him your carry piece based on the assumption that he’s more capable of using it than you are. Don’t trust those tactical pants! You don’t shoot with your pants.

If you’re in a mall and someone starts shooting it up, don’t hide behind a cop. Hide behind an old guy like me, in work shorts and an NRA T-shirt. He’ll kill everyone in the place while the cop is still trying to rack his slide. Find a guy with a Trump hat and offer to spot for him.

Don’t assume a cop will be a better choice because he’ll be cooler under fire. Watch Youtube. They scream and jump up and down just like the rest of us. I can do that, even without training.

If a criminal comes to your home or business to hurt you, do not call the cops and then leave your gun under the mattress. Get it out and shoot the criminal while he’s as far away as possible. If you wait for the cops, they’ll miss, and they might hit you.

They might do that even if the criminal is dead when they arrive. Pray no one from SWAT shows up.

2. It really is possible to get shot by the cops when everyone else on the scene already knows there is no reason to use force. Telling them everything is okay, and making it clear in as many ways as you can imagine at the time, may not save you.

I don’t know how that knowledge can help you.

3. The people who keep criticizing cops for killing people instead of wounding them or shooting guns out of their hands need to put a sock in it. We are talking about individuals who usually miss the criminal entirely. Asking them to shoot someone in the hand is like asking a person with Parkinson’s to perform a sobriety test. It will never happen. Be glad they’re shooting at center mass, with the intention of killing. It’s their best chance of solving the problem.

New York cops fired 41 rounds at innocent, unarmed, nonthreatening Amadou Diallo with no opposition to mess with their aim. Guess how many rounds hit him? Nineteen. Less than 50%.

4. This was not a Black Lives Matter moment. It was more like an Innocent People Holding Toy Trucks Don’t Matter moment. The autistic man is Hispanic, and he’s the one Aledda tried to kill. BLMsters are saying the shooting proves the cops hate black people and want to kill them, but Aledda was actually trying to protect a black person. Talk about bitter irony.

I guess I’m being hard on Aledda. He probably meant well. But his actions seemed so insane, it’s inconceivable to me that he has any business on a police force, and let’s not forget: he shot one innocent person and nearly killed two. What he did had very bad consequences. If he gets off, he should go find a new profession. I don’t think he should get off. According to centuries of precedent, the kind of bad judgment he appears to have displayed is criminal.

Cooperate with the police at all times, and do everything you can to help them. You never know how much help they may need.

Green With Desire

Sunday, April 9th, 2017

Plus Wild Guesses About Foreign Policy

I am trying to make sense of the Syria bombing.

I think it’s safe to say that most Trump voters want the US to spend less time being the adult in a room full of children. We have spent a lot of time trying to save nations that didn’t deserve or consent to be saved. To provide two examples, the Somalis and Afghans aren’t ready for civilization. The South Vietnamese weren’t unified in support of freedom and capitalism. The Iraqis are still pretty wobbly. We assume everyone loves democracy, but a lot of people in Iraq actually prefer a dictatorship; something about having a big, strong scary warlord look after them.

Trump the candidate was against intervening too much in the affairs of other countries. Trump the president just bombed Syria over a completely internal matter: the gassing of Syrians by the Syrian government. What a bizarre week this has been. Many liberals actually took a break from vandalizing Ivana Trump shoe displays in malls to back up Trump’s Syrian adventure. Many conservatives are wondering if Trump has gone native in liberal, globalist DC.

To add to the complexity, Trump greatly offended Vladimir Putin when he bombed Syria. The baseless leftist narrative up till now has been that Trump is Putin’s puppet. Somehow, Putin bribed a billionaire to run for president and do his bidding. Because it’s so easy to find things a billionaire can’t get without Putin’s help. Such as…???

Trump gave up billions of dollars in potential earnings to become president, yet we’re supposed to believe he has some venal motive involving compensation from Putin. What compensation could Putin offer that would begin to make up for what Trump gave up voluntarily? No such compensation exists.

Liberals could not understand that, so they pushed the ridiculous Russian Connection. What can they say now? That it’s an inside job? That Putin got Trump to bomb Syria to cover up their ties? It looks like the Russia canard is finally dead, except among the truly insane.

Maybe nuclear war will convince the stragglers Trump is sincere.

Some conservatives like the fact that Trump showed courage and initiative. Obama’s foreign policy consisted mostly of apologizing and selling out American workers. Trump realizes he’s our president, not China’s or Mexico’s. It’s good that Trump is not letting us get pushed around quite so much. I can see why people are happy he took some sort of stand on something.

I’m not sure what to think of the attack. I don’t read the news as much as I used to. My overall impression is that what Trump did will work out well, provided he stops now.

It’s hard to argue with anyone who sends 59 affordable missiles, with no boots on the ground, to kill totalitarian goons who use poison gas on civilians (or anyone else). You can argue that every nation in the world has an interest in deterring the use of gas. But now the Syrians, no doubt with Russia’s help, are attacking the gassed area again, with conventional weapons. Trump needs to let that slide. When you go from punishing the use of gas to punishing other countries for suppressing rebels, you cross the line from reasonable intervention to overweening nannyism. All over the world, various nations are attacking each other with conventional weapons, and we need to understand that it’s not always (or often) our place to jump in and break it up. Often, it’s not even possible to do an effective job. We just waste money and lives, and we make the world resent us even more.

If Trump stays out of Syria now, in my opinion, it will show he knows what he’s doing. If he decides to be the Lone Ranger plus the Magnificent Seven, it will suggest he’s winging it and forgetting all about his campaign platform.

Whatever he does, he needs to coerce the Muslims to accept Syrian refugees. It’s amazing that we’re expected to take them when the Saudis are afraid of them.

It’s hard to guess what he’ll do. He has been a conservative for less time than it takes paint to dry, so for all we know, he could morph into Obama this year. How sincere is his conversion? No one knows.

If he goes all New World Order on us, at least we got Gorsuch out of it, and we stopped Hillary Clinton. Unless two Supreme Court justices die in the near future, we should have a relatively sane panel up there determining our fate. That’s a big deal. One more Ginsburg would almost be grounds for mass suicide. Cuba-style property seizures and the internment of conservative undesirables would be less than a decade away.

Here is how I feel: Ronald Reagan and George Washington didn’t run in 2016, so we voted as well as we could. Trump is much better than the president we deserve, so I am content.

In other news, I am planning to make an offer on a house. My dad and I made a deal a long time ago, and now he’s holding up his end. He’s going to get a place up north, and I will go with him and look after him. For what we are willing to spend, given the location constraints you get with an elderly person, we are pretty much limited to properties under 25 acres. We found a neat place in northern Florida, and I am hoping we can work something out with the sellers.

I can put up a photo or two. The green paint is not what I would have gone with, but it’s helpful if it discourages other buyers.

The place comes with a big outbuilding, a small horse barn, and a lonnnnnnnng driveway with a sturdy steel gate. You can see a grand total of one other house from the yard. There is a big 3-car garage which will be perfect for machine tools and a split air conditioner. I would rather have 300 acres farther out, but this is good enough. It’s a whole lot better than what I expected.

The property appraised for much less than the asking price, so that’s a concern. The sellers got royally taken when they bought the farm, and they may not realize that yet. When they get their own appraisal, maybe they’ll see things our way.

Some people are surprised I paid for an appraisal already. I don’t get that. How else would I know what to offer? Realtors pull listing prices out of thin air. Also, appraising is not a guessing game. There are rules and tables and so on. You have to be trained and licensed. It’s much better than relying on your gut instinct. That being said, my gut instinct was pretty close to the appraised value.

If I lose a few hundred bucks because the sellers won’t listen to reality, good for me. It beats overpaying by a hundred grand.

Obvious.

I don’t think anyone should criticize me, given that the sellers overpaid by maybe $200,000.

I can’t wait to leave Miami. There is literally nothing here I will miss. You don’t have to worry about me turning into a pillar of salt. To me, “goodbye” means “goodbye.” Ask anyone I’ve cut loose. I don’t come around a week later asking to be taken back. I amaze people with my clean breaks. I don’t miss the friends I cut off. I don’t miss anyone I dated. If I decided to rid myself of you, it was because you made me miserable and made my mind up for me.

My dad has had it with Miami, too. The traffic is much worse than it was even five years ago, and the people are as rude as ever. He can’t really get around any more; he forgets where he’s going. If he has to go anywhere other than a few very familiar places, I have to drive him. Maybe in northern Florida, with its simple grid and low traffic, he would be able to do a little more driving without fear of becoming a silver alert.

The other night, I was lying in bed, and I started imagining how nice it would be not to have the neighbors’ security lights shining in my window, and to be awakened by the alarm clock instead of construction crews and garbage men playing rap music on their truck radios. I can’t even imagine it. And what does a dark sky look like? What does twilight look like? Do they have twilight in northern Florida? We don’t have it here. It’s sunny, then a little grey appears in the sky, and then BLAM, it’s dark. Then, if it’s Saturday night and you’re trying to sleep so you can get up early for church, the loud salsa music starts.

If this property doesn’t work, I’m going back to the list to check the next two options. I will not waste time.

What’s happening is the breaking of a stronghold. I chose Miami. I chose rebellion. I chose to turn down a life of prayer. I gave myself to the filthy spirits that run South Florida, and they held on tight. Then I wised up, and it took me quite some time to break the chains I had put on myself. You can’t expect God to jump up and rescue you instantly when your problems were caused by rejecting him. It will be very kind of God to save me at all. I’m not upset that it took so long. I’m just glad he’s willing to do it while I’m still alive and relatively able.

Maybe if the Norks bomb Miami and Atlanta, I’ll be far enough away to avoid fallout and grow my own food. The farm has a well and a generator. Whatever happens, it will beat being in Miami, surrounded by God-hating throngs of people who will gladly invade my house and take what I have just because I’m an old white Christian who supports Israel and voted for Trump. Miami is mostly ghettos, and ghetto people don’t take care of themselves. They let other people care of them, in exchange for votes. They are not prepared for an interruption of the food supply. They don’t save money. If life gets hard, they will invade homes to loot, and if they find the residents inside, they will punish them as 1% oppressors.

You don’t have to be a white supremacist to be concerned about anti-white racism. It’s very real, it’s widespread, it’s extremely cruel and ruthless (because it’s based on a victimhood mentality) and it’s nothing to take lightly. It simmers all the time, but as I personally witnessed after Hurricane Andrew, disasters make it boil over into plain view. We can’t change it, but we can make some effort to protect ourselves with distance. And there are some places where whites, blacks, and Mexicans are not at each other’s throats, believe it or not.

After Andrew, many people had to sit in their front yards holding firearms. And that was just a hurricane. The looters still had food, and the government was busy helping them with their needs. They didn’t loot because of need; it was just sorriness and meanness. A lot of people are just waiting for an excuse to hurt others.

No one, regardless of race, should live within 20 miles of a ghetto. I’m about two miles away from two ghettos, and seedy, violent downtown Miami is only five miles away.

I would appreciate prayers regarding my choice of geographical location and the purchase of a house. I don’t know what I’m doing. Only God knows where I should be.

Thanks for any help you can give me. I look forward to blogging my move.