Useful Knowledge

I am taking a break from Sabbath festivities. I find that you can only go so long without a break. Which is odd, since the Sabbath itself is a break.

I have been utterly irresponsible about answering emails and responding to comments lately. Sorry about that. If you’re waiting for my explanation, you will be waiting a long time, because I don’t have one.

One comment I should have mentioned: I bitched that I couldn’t join the Civilian Marksmanship Program and get decent prices on M1s and M1 carbines, and reader Gromulin pointed out that I can join the Garand Collectors’ Association ($25) and qualify that way. All the clubs near me were high school ROTC outfits, and I didn’t think I could pass. Great comment. Very useful.

Now I have a question. Is it worth it to join the CMP? Seems like they don’t have a great selection of rifles. And the prices on Gunbroker and Gunsamerica seem about the same.

Another question: can anyone explain how M1 carbine collecting works? Apparently, when you buy a rifle, they identify it by manufacturer. BUT–I think–some rifles are relatively pure, and others aren’t. In other words, you may buy an IBM rifle and find that it’s as it was when IBM shipped it, with mostly IBM parts. Or you may buy an IBM rifle and find out it was refurbed with used parts from other makers. If I understand what I’ve read, there’s a big difference in value, and that makes buying confusing.

I Give Up

Baldilocks is hollering at me because I passed on a statement, from Ruth Matar of Women in Green, that Barack Obama is 47.5% Arab. I figured Mrs. Matar must have had some clue what she was talking about, but I don’t really know whether her statement is true or not. I am sure of one thing. Baldi is not buying it.

I am posting this in hopes that she will quit hollering at me and go beat on someone more deserving. How about Amanda Marcotte? I think that would be a swell choice. But I can suggest others.

Bother me Tomorrow

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA it’s the Sabbath. Every time I call Sunday the Sabbath, I cringe, expecting wise guys to post pointless corrections in the comments. Still, for me, it’s the Sabbath. And I reiterate: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Why “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”?

Every week, since I started setting Sundays aside for God, I have had some sort of revelation about the nature of the Sabbath, or the rewards or consequences of keeping it. And this week, payoff is a renewed understanding that the Sabbath is a sanctuary. On the Sabbath, you escape your problems. The busted pool pump, the sidewalk that needs to be repaired, the emails that should be answered…they will all have to wait. I refuse to even think about it. And I count on God to prevent me from suffering because of my sanctioned procrastination. Somehow, He will work it out. The Sabbath is His idea, not mine. I’ll worry about His concerns today, and He can do the same for me.

For the last two weekends, I’ve been unable to do a full-blown Sunday observance. First there was Father’s Day. Someone explain why we let the retail industry force Sunday holidays on us, knowing it will interfere with worship and rest. After that, there were horrendous plumbing problems that could not be ignored. This weekend, things are back to normal. I’m safe again. I can take the day off! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

In addition to plodding through the New Testament in The Complete Jewish Bible, with commentary, I’ve been reading the books of Samuel and Judges. Unfortunately, there is no companion commentary. And it’s pretty confusing. Generally when you read the Bible, it makes sense. You can see the point of each story. That seems less true in these books. The people seem much more worldly and corrupt and aimless than the folks in much of the rest of the Bible.

Some parts, like the history of Saul and David and Solomon, are not hard to understand. But other parts seem to have an almost random nature. The Jews and Fundamentalists tell us that isn’t true, however. Every letter in the original Hebrew is supposed to have a meaning and a purpose. I take it on faith that they’re right, and I read it and assume there will be some benefit eventually.

I can report one benefit. I got to talk to my Dad about it. He’s extremely hostile to Christianity, and to religion in general. But he and I ended up having a conversation about these books during this period, and he was surprisingly willing to listen. That was great. You never know when you’re going to plant a seed.

I think any reasonable person who sat and listened to an explanation of the Pentateuch and the New Testament and maybe the Psalms would eventually have to agree that all these books are connected, and that when read in pari materia, they are convincing proof of the existence of God. But you can’t bind and gag people and make them listen. When it comes to religion, listening is not nearly as popular as talking. I try to think about that when other people talk and expect me to listen, but I often fail to live up to my own ideals.

Here’s a pleasant piece of news. The weather has brightened up. I spend time reading the Bible on Sunday, obviously, and I very much prefer to do it outdoors. There is something about outdoor air that indoor air ordinarily can’t match. The weather has been terrible all week, and I figured today I would be stuck on the couch. But it’s sunny and not all that terribly humid for Miami. Maybe I’ll manage to spend a few hours outside.

All Life Will Cease

June is really here. It has been rainy all week, and today the air is so thick you can cut warm, drippy, moldy, grey slices out of it with a cheese knife. It’s not all that hot outside, but it feels so nasty, you just wouldn’t want to be out there.

On the up side, what’s going on, RE hurricane season? NOTHING. That’s right. NOTHING. Read it and weep, greenies. Another year of Hog on Ice hurricane gloating is underway. OOH! OOH! GLOBAL WARMING KILLER STORMS ARE GOING TO GET US! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! It’s not happening. And this is the THIRD YEAR IN A ROW.

We are three weeks into the season, and so far, all we’ve seen is a pathetic tropical storm which shouldn’t even have been named. Even William Gray has decided to bag it. He predicts seven hurricanes, which is pretty lame.

There are two problems with the “killer storms caused by global warming” theory. 1. The storms aren’t happening. 2. Global warming is a fantasy. It’s the first major scientific theory based solely on peer pressure.

I think I’ll promote an equally credible theory. KILLER EARTHQUAKES ARE CAUSED BY CRABBY ELVES. LOOK OUT FOR THE CRABBY ELVES. A consensus of scientists consulted about crabby elves has been formed. One hundred per cent of scientists questioned, i.e. me, believe in elfogenic killer earthquakes. IT’S A CONSENSUS, BABY. KISS THOSE SKYSCRAPERS GOODBYE.

Technically, I’m a scientist. So what I say must be true.

Irate Gun Owners Respond

Yesterday I made an admittedly speculative comment, stating that I thought .38 snubnoses were obsolete. I still think that’s true. The .38 is a weak round; even the +P is not great, and it doesn’t work in all .38 Special pistols. And you only get four or five shots, and the tiny barrel makes the gun hard to aim, and high-recoil +P loads would seem to exacerbate the problem. I suggested that the Glock 26 was a better idea. It’s extremely accurate; you can put bullets right on top of each other at 7 yards. It holds eleven rounds safely, if you holster it right. It’s reliable. It’s light. It’s small. And you can get deadly, low-recoil ammunition for it. What’s not to love? Glocks are boring and ugly, but they work.

But that’s not what I want to write about. I want to write about the response I got. I clearly annoyed people! I didn’t say anything about them; I just offered an opinion about firearms. And I still made people mad. The lesson I learned is this: criticizing a gun (or type of gun) a person likes is like saying that person has an ugly baby. They really hate it.

So I guess I’ll have to tread lightly in the future.

I don’t identify with my guns too much. You can insult them all day, and I won’t care. With one exception. When I was 12, my dad bought me a Remington Nylon 66 rifle, which has a SPACE AGE DUPONT ZYTEL™ stock. And my buddy Mike insists on calling it a “plastic gun.” Every time we talk about guns, he says “plastic” like nineteen times. I have to take this, from a guy whose only current gun is missing a frame. That’s right. Mike STILL HASN’T BOUGHT A 1911. He used to have a Dan Wesson .357 with three different barrels, and some crackhead stole the frame, so all he has are barrels. But hey, at least they’re not plastic.

The general rule is, I don’t take it to heart when people make fun of my guns, so I guess I didn’t realize how much I could upset other people by criticizing their pathetic backward underpowered lovely snubnoses.

As a means of sucking up, I’ll point something out. I love revolvers. It was only recently that I became fond of the 1911. When I graduated from law school, I bought myself a present: a sweet Smith & Wesson 686+, not an automatic. That should tell you something. I’m dying to get the 27-2 .357 with a 5″ barrel, which Jim from SOTW recommended, and I think I’d also like a Model 29, just because Dirty Harry used one. And I have dreams of owning a USFA Peacemaker clone. And a Colt King Cobra. And maybe a Python. And a few others.

I could actually see buying a nickel-plated Jack-Ruby-style .38 and putting pearl handles on it, since it’s a pimp gun from the word “go.”

My dad has a Smith & Wesson snubnose; maybe I’ll take it to the range to shut everyone up. I believe he inherited it from my mother. My grandfather had a habit of giving his daughters snubnose revolvers from time to time. When I was a kid, my mother had a rusty Colt. I believe he gave that to her when she got married. Is that foresight or pessimism?

Oh, crap. Marv has released himself on his own recognizance. Hold on while I put him back in custody. I still don’t know how he does that. He only releases himself when he’s sure I’m not looking. And naturally, he clambers over as close to Maynard as he can get, as if he is eager to feed him another toe.

I think I would like to take a chunk of money and sink it into some decent used firearms. Fireable milsurps and lightly used civilian arms. And maybe some new items which are likely to be banned eventually, such as the “Golani” Galil clone Century Arms is making available for $700. I wouldn’t want as-new guns I couldn’t shoot. Collecting those is pathetic. It strikes me as a grotesque waste, putting a gun in a safe and waiting for it to be destroyed by rust or fire instead of shooting it. Seems to me that if I bought wisely, the guns would only appreciate, and they would enrich my life.

In addition to the revolvers, I’m considering picking up a couple of really nice walnut K31s. Also a Colt Woodsman, an M1 carbine, maybe a Lee-Enfield .303, a Finnish Mauser, and a Swedish Mauser. How can you go wrong with K31s? They’re great guns, and you can get a beauty for $240, and the importer is local, so I can pick them out in person. I worry that the availability of ammunition will suppress their value; don’t know if that will actually happen.

Enjoy those snubbies. Marvels of engineering that they are.

Dead Men Can Kill You

Earlier today I mentioned a reference which claimed to debunk the notion that there is such a thing as one-shot stopping power. I finally found a place where you can read it. A PDF can be found on this thread at The High Road: CLICK.

The PDF contains a piece written by FBI employees. Here’s a quotation:

In one case, the subject attacked the officer with a knife. The officer shot the individual four times in the chest; then, his weapon malfunctioned. The offender continued to walk toward the officer. After the
officer cleared his weapon, he fired again and struck the subject in the chest. Only then did the offender drop the knife. This individual was hit five times with 230-grain, .45-caliber hollow-point ammunition and never fell to the ground. The offender later stated, “The wounds felt like bee stings.”

That was the part that got me wondering if center-of-mass is always the right choice.

Here is a more disturbing quotation:

“Physiologically, a determined adversary can be stopped reliably and immediately only by a shot that disrupts the brain or upper spinal cord. Failing to hit the center nervous system, massive bleeding from holes in the heart, or major blood vessels of the torso causing circulatory collapse is the only way to force incapacitation upon an adversary, and this takes time. For example, there is sufficient oxygen within the brain to support full, voluntary action for 10 to 15 seconds after the heart has been destroyed.”

That’s interesting. John Lennon was shot through the aorta, and at the time, the authorities claimed he died instantly. Maybe that was an exaggeration.

One lesson you can definitely take away from this is that you don’t want to be in a situation where you have to shoot to defend yourself. You may kill your assailant and still get carved up.

Even Worse Than Guilt

Sondra K. wanted to know if I could offer gun advice to a female blogger who lives somewhere in my general area of the state. I’m not qualified to give advice, but I tried to direct her to some better resources. And I blogrolled her; can’t believe she wasn’t already on the list.

I don’t know what a woman should carry. The Glock 26 comes to mind. Some people recommend .38 snubnoses, apparently on the theory that women are too stupid to operate semi-automatics, but the .38 is not a good defensive round. If it’s not for carry, maybe a .410 shotgun is the way to go.

While I was looking for stuff to recommend, I came across an interesting report about the uncertainty of stopping an assailant with one shot. People like to criticize the 9mm pistol, and a sort of worship has developed around the .45 ACP round, but apparently some criminals barely notice 230-grain .45 ACP shots to the chest. They persist in attacking and then survive. How about that?

What’s the lesson here? Maybe the lesson is that you should shoot for the face, if you are capable of doing so. I know from watching shooters at the range that most people can’t do it, even up close. But many can. If you’re an experienced shooter, and you’re in a self-defense situation, it may well be possible for you to aim well and shoot the attacker in the brain. It wouldn’t work well if you were rushed, but I’m sure that if people who have been in gunfights could be questioned, an appreciable percentage would say they had time to aim. People always say to shoot for the center of mass, but every situation is different. Isn’t it a mistake to rigidly adhere to principles that don’t work well in every situation?

Another thought: maybe using a pistol to defend yourself is just plain stupid, when you could just as easily reach for a shotgun. Where movement is restricted, or where you have to carry on your person, a shotgun won’t work well. But in your house, why not? A shotgun is much more destructive, and because it has a long barrel (not because of the mythical giant pattern that covers an entire wall), you’re less likely to miss. And you can mount a light and a laser on it, and you can crush a burglar’s skull or testicles or push his teeth down his throat with the butt. The big drawback, I would guess, is low magazine capacity. But some shotguns hold a fair amount of ammunition.

I think a great idea would be to buy a high-capacity autoloader, put a laser and light on it, and pay the fee for a short barrel. I think you have to pay an extra $200 if you want to possess a “sawed-off” shotgun. Geez, that sounds like a bargain.

Finally, we are not devoting enough effort to point-shooting, which is shooting without using sights. I used to point-shoot an old CO2 pistol a lot, and it’s easy to get to the point where you really can’t miss at room-to-room distances. With a long gun, it’s even easier. Give me a day of practice, and I’ll be able to hit man-size targets from the hip all day long at 7 yards, even if they’re moving. A skill like that would be a horror for a burglar or even a team of burglars to face. For those times when you can’t aim carefully, a shotgun fired from the hip would be a life-saver.

I also ran across a news video of an interview with a man who was forced to kill two robbers with an 11-shot pistol. Sounds like he may be a Glock 26 man. This poor guy had a string of ghetto apartments, and he and his wife were cleaning one to get it ready for renting, and two idiots in ski masks came into the apartment and menaced him with some sort of pistol that looked like an Uzi. He managed to shoot both of them twice, hitting one in the face. They both died at the scene. I admire him tremendously. He fully expected to die, but he was determined to save his wife, so he pulled his gun and fired, and thank God, he survived. But it’s not really a happy ending. These jerks made him take their lives, and now he has to live with the memory and the reputation.

They knew he had rent money in his wallet, and the robber holding the gun told him he was going to die. Helpful hint for robbers: don’t tell your victims they’re going to die. Tell them everything will be fine if they cooperate. Otherwise, they have nothing to lose, so they fight back. This guy would probably have handed over his wallet, had he believed they would leave. I certainly would. Unfortunately, criminals are sadistic as well as greedy, so they enjoy terrifying their victims, hence the pointless and counterproductive death threats.

Better

I made myself watch Laura Ingraham today. I can never force myself to watch TV with any kind of regularity, but I wanted to see this show, because I thought maybe Fox was starting to make intelligent decisions again.

I saw maybe half an hour. I thought it was pretty good. For some reason, Miss Ingraham seems to look better and better with time. Of course, one explanation is that my eyes are getting worse and worse. And she’s more entertaining than Gibson and Nauert. One person I respect issued a stinging critique of her jokes, but I didn’t hear any of those, so I can’t comment. Her voice is not the sort of thing that makes for a career in the production of relaxation CDs, but it’s not a deal-breaker.

John Gibson startled me with his horrendous January remarks, much as Ann Coulter did when she put slurs in her column. I was amazed when he made fun of Heath Ledger, right after he died. Where did that come from? Never saw it coming. It made Fox look bad.

My take, when I realized they were offering Laura Ingraham a show, was that they were finally getting over their Michelle Malkin fantasy. Mrs. Malkin is a fine blogger, and her books are okay, but she was pretty bad as a host. She took everything personally and got angry and seemed childish. And she doesn’t think well on her feet. I guess when she issued her weird ultimatum, she did Fox a favor.

Here is my advice: when a woman offers you an ultimatum, take her up on it. Whatever the consequences are, they’re better than being around the type of woman who issues ultimatums.

I recall Miss Ingraham complaining about the mosh pit atmosphere of one of the shows she was on. I think it was Hannity & Colmes. She said it was why she wouldn’t do TV. I guess she got over that. They must have canned her radio show, which I actually enjoyed.

If the jokes stink, she’s probably relying on the hopeless and exclusive Conservative Humor Brigade, i.e. the folks who brought us the Half-Funny News Hour. That was the suspicion of the person who criticized her jokes, and it sounds likely to me. Miss Ingraham, whatever her positive points may be, is part of the clique, and positions in the conservative media (i.e. Fox News and AM radio) are so hard to come by, I doubt she’d risk ostracism by turning down a sheaf of Ned Rice knee-slappers.

I guess we’re stuck with hacks until the creaky old mediocrities (I insult mediocrity) die of old age. There is no way a new conservative humorist with talent will ever get a shot while these guys have air in them. Maybe that’s for the best. Overall, political humor probably has a negative impact on the world, even when it’s good. And when I say “good,” I mean “liberal,” since they’re the only ones doing it right. Except for obscure bloggers. If her jokes are bad, her best move is to quit buying them. O’Reilly and Limbaugh do fine, and nobody expects quality comedy from them.

I think Fox made a good choice. Hope I turn out to be right.

Forgive me, George

It’s a terrible, terrible thing to gloat when something bad happens to another person. Especially if that person is a friend. You should never do that. It’s unconscionable and petty and disgusting.

However…

GEORGE MONEO’S MAC JUST CRASHED! GEORGE MONEO’S MAC JUST CRASHED!

Okay, okay. I’m sorry! That was a momentary lapse! Pay no attention! I’m really ashamed.

It’s awful, but at the same time, come on. It’s funny. Every time I have a computer problem, George gives me a lecture about how it wouldn’t have happened if I had a Mac.

I confess, Windows is garbage, and IBM compatibles no longer offer any advantages other than initial price. I plan to buy a Mac when this computer craps out.

But it’s still funny.

Although maybe not to George. Not for another year or two.

Reject Him for Any Number of Reasons; Just be Sure You Reject Him

I got some interesting emails this week from Women in Green. This is a Jerusalem-based organization of Jewish women, established to support Israel’s interests. Their co-chairwomen are Ruth and Nadia Matar. Ruth Mater provides material for an email list and a blog, which you can find at this link.

The emails I got this week were a little confusing. Evidently, Mrs. Matar has demonstrated concern over Barack Obama’s Muslim background and his repeated admissions that he bears hostility toward white people. She also points out that he lied to a crowd of Jews recently. I’ll show you her proof.

According to Mrs. Matar, on June 4, Obama spoke to 700 AIPAC members. AIPAC is the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. They lobby in the US on behalf of Israel. I don’t know much about them.

Here is what she says Obama told them: “Israel’s security is sacrosanct. It is non-negotiable… any agreement with the Palestinian people must preserve Israel’s identity as a Jewish state, with secure, recognized, and defensible borders. Jerusalem will remain the capital of Israel and it must remain undivided.”

Without taking sides with Mrs. Matar (yet), I can tell you as a lawyer that this is classic weasel-wording. “Israel’s security is sacrosanct.” That means almost nothing. If Obama pushes Israel to cede everything to the Palestinians but one acre, and then we help them defend that acre, Obama will be able to say that Israel is secure. It’s obvious to a fellow attorney that he chose these words because they sound wonderful but guarantee nothing.

“Any agreement with the Palestinian people must preserve Israel’s identity as a Jewish state, with secure, recognized, and defensible borders. Jerusalem will remain the capital of Israel and it must remain undivided.” Again, he promises nothing. Israel will be a Jewish state? That was never seriously questioned. The borders will be secure, recognized, and defensible, but where will they BE, exactly? He avoids saying. The security of the borders is not the primary issue. Their location is the issue. Obama deliberately leaves wiggle room for the ceding of more Jewish land. “Jerusalem will be the capital of Israel.” That’s not much of a promise. It’s the capital now, even though Muslim squatters are in charge of much of it.

“And it must remain undivided.” This gem deserves its own paragraph, because it differs from the bits of lip service cited above. They were empty, misleading promises. This is worse. This is a deliberate lie. Look at what Obama said one day later:

“Jerusalem might also serve as the capital of a Palestinian state, or there might be Palestinian sovereignty over Arab neighborhoods…Well, obviously it’s going to be up to the parties to negotiate a range of these issues. And Jerusalem will be a part of those negotiations… As a practical matter, it would be very difficult to execute [a policy of the capital remaining undivided.]”

Yada, yada, yada. Don’t lead us up and down rabbit trails, Senator. You lied. Plain and simple. If Jerusalem is the capital of two nations, it’s divided. If Palestinians run certain areas, it’s divided. Nothing ambiguous there.

Ruth Matar is right to bring this to people’s attention. She also brought up the anti-white passages from Obama’s book, which are very disturbing. But she mentions other things that seem less worthy of discussion. For example, it turns out that Obama isn’t really black. He’s 1/16 black and 7/16 Arab, and the rest is good old American Wonder Bread. She is concerned about the wisdom of putting an Arab in the White House at this point in history. While I suppose it’s a factor to be considered, it’s insignificant compared to his indisputable record of snuggling up to communists, racists, and one unrepentant confessed terrorist. And it’s also a minor issue compared to his lack of experience and his abysmal qualifications.

This week IBD ran a piece detailing Obama’s active solicitation of approval from the New Party. IBD credits Rick Moran of Right Wing Nuthouse with bringing the matter to light. The New Party is a collection of Marxist kooks. And when I say they’re Marxists, I mean they use the word “Marxist” to describe themselves. You can be an Arab and be loyal to the US. But no far-left demagogue who buddies up to terrorists and communists should ever be elected to public office.

Marxism. There’s “change” for you.

New Stud in Town

I was trying to blog just now, when my concentration was interrupted by a sound like a car horn, followed by a long trilling noise. I had to go outside and find out what kind of creature made a noise like that.

There is an enormous peacock standing on the roof of the gazebo, picking its feathers.

I hope it didn’t have a big breakfast.

Tried to photograph it, but the humidity fogged my lens, and the light was coming from behind the bird.

It’s hard to find peacock recipes.

Back Off, Mortals

I’m still having emotional aftershocks from the prime rib. I just realized: I am now capable of cooking the finest meal in the universe. Prime rib, the perfect baked potato, homebrewed ale, and BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE. Four-thousand-dollar prostitutes have nothing on me. The pleasure I can create puts their sorry efforts in the shade. This qualifies me for superhero status. No human should have powers like these.

Blueberries are in season right now. So cheap. So close.

NO.

Someone stop me.

Mastered

Yes, I have mastered prime rib. Is it wrong to brag? Well, not really. When you consider how easy it is to cook a perfect rib roast. It’s like bragging that you mastered falling down. Which I am also good at.

You have to try this. You won’t believe how easy it is. Get a rib roast. The one I cooked was choice, and it was so good, I don’t know if I’d bother buying prime in the future. Dry-age it for as long as you dare. Then roast it in foil or a bag (on a broiling pan) at 250 until it gets to a point ten degrees below your desired internal temperature. At that point, jack the heat up to 500, remove the bag or foil, and cook until the roast hits the final destination. I went to about 133 today, but 125 might be better. One thing I learned from this experience: even if you use the “bake” setting, cooking at 550 may cause your broiler to turn on. On my oven, it happens at 550 but not 500, I think. I started with 550 and turned it down, and I tossed a piece of foil on top of the roast to keep it from charring.

You might want a second pan under the broiler pan, one rack down, to keep the bottom of the broiler pan from getting so hot the drippings burn. I had a pizza stone on the bottom rack.

The one thing I need to fool with is the salt. This time, I applied it one day before roasting, and it was very good, but it didn’t penetrate quite as well as I wanted. I think next time I’ll apply it three days before cooking. Don’t give me a lot of whining about drying the meat out. Three days won’t have a significant effect. One day had no effect at all.

This roast was extremely tender, and juice poured out of it. I could drink that stuff. I really could. The combination of wet aging and dry aging worked fine. The meat smelled a little rank before I cooked it, and it was perfect when it was done.

I can’t believe I got to be this old without knowing how easy prime rib was.

I think the salt-crusting tradition is probably incredibly stupid and counterproductive. But that’s up to you. I’m telling you how to get a tender and juicy roast that is perfectly browned. It should work regardless of how you season it.

I did not “rest” the roast. At least not on purpose. It was out of the oven for a few minutes before I could carve it; that’s inevitable. It was magnificent. Would resting have improved it? I take no position. For steak, it’s a stupid idea. But I haven’t experimented with bigger pieces of meat.

I still have two pounds of roast. I feel like taking off my shirt, climbing onto the table, and resting my bare belly on it.

The main side dish was a guilty pleasure. Microwaved red potatoes with butter and garlic. The microwave burns them a little and makes them slightly rubbery, which I actually like.

Your assignment is to pick up a rib roast the next time it’s on sale and try my method. It is guaranteed to work. Not “guaranteed” in the sense that I will in any way take responsibility if you fail. Just guaranteed in that I think you’ll have success. Which isn’t really a guarantee at all. Shut up. Just do it.

More

Would 225 be even better? Hmm…

Prime Rib Rematch

Who’s the better cook? Me or Bobby Flay? Let’s find out.

A while back, I got a rib roast, aged it for a week, and cooked it using instructions from the Food Network site. The site credited Bobby Flay. I didn’t use his seasoning ideas, but I did use the temperature he suggested, which was 350 degrees. And the roast was tougher than it should have been. That temperature sounded fishy to me, but this was my first rib roast, and I figured surely a professional chef knew how to cook roast beef. I should have known better. Professional cooks give bad advice day in and day out.

I just put a new roast in the oven. I salted it well, but not to the “crusting” point. I tried that before, and it was disgusting. This time, I salted it the day before and let the salt soak in overnight. Before I threw it in the oven, I smeared it with pressed garlic. I’m cooking it at 250, with a probe. I intended to cook it in a plastic bag, but I forgot to buy them, so I wrapped it in foil. When I get close to the target temperature of 135, I’ll remove the foil and raise the heat to 450 to get some browning. Hell, let’s make it 550. Git ‘r done.

If it was just me, I’d stop roasting at 120, but my old man will be partaking, so I have to compromise.

Mike says the Showtime Oven is the way to go. I called him before the last prime rib, figuring he would have better advice than any TV chef, but he couldn’t remember exactly what he did when he used the Showtime Oven. Since then he claims he has remembered. Cagey guy, that Mike.

I aged this one for several days, but only one day of that was dry-aging. I forgot about it during the septic tank debacle, so I inadvertently left it in the wrapper for a while.

Place your bets. Delicious, tender, juicy roast, or another disappointment? Call me cocky, but I think I can’t miss.

How could anyone who cooks for a living think 350 was a good cooking temperature for a roast?

Rain

Temperature, 75. Humidity, 86%. Chance of rain, 60%. Welcome to another beautiful day in the Magic City. It was supposed to hit 90 today. Yo, Al Gore! You dropped the ball again!

The best way to describe the weather today is that it’s like living inside a damp grey sweater. It’s a shame I quit drinking coffee, because this is one of those days that requires over a quart. And the rest of the week won’t be much nicer.

Naturally, this happened on the very day the pool pump started smoking and quit. Yes, I mean the leaky pump I complained about. Leak fixed; motor dead. What will happen when I replace the motor? Maybe a sinkhole will open up and swallow the pool. I should set up a video camera.

Other irritating things have happened. I had an old JVC shelf stereo I was going to put out in the garage. I sat it on the floor so I could try it out before going to the trouble of rigging shelves. I stuck the CDs from two box sets in the funky 1980s magazine. And things went fine. Next time I turned it on, nothing happened. Yesterday, I gave up, took it apart and got my CDs back. But I have a part left over, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out where it goes. I guess I’m going to have to junk the whole stereo, which is too bad. It was a piece of crap, but it would have been a fine addition to the tool area.

I’ll say this. When you force an old magazine-style CD player open and twist up a lot of the parts, and then you have to straighten the bent bits and put it back together, it’s surprising how useful an ordinary claw hammer can be.

I can probably get a similar stereo for under a hundred bucks. But that ruins the fun of free stuff.

I think my parents paid $800 for this doodad, back in the Reagan years. Twenty watts per channel. Not a good deal.

I guess a magazine CD player is never a good idea. Don’t they always get stuck eventually? When that happens, kiss your CDs or your stereo goodbye. You have to make a choice. This stereo was used very little, but the plastic gears inside it are rough and yellowed. Maybe it was built to self-destruct.

I have a horrible DVD player which I hate. I paid like $90 for it years ago. Panasonic. I should stick it out there after I dump the JVC. Better to have five CDs on a carousel than six in a disk-eating magazine. I’ll still need a receiver. Bet I can find a junker for twenty bucks. Now that I think about it, I have my mother’s ancient CD clock radio, which would probably do the job. The speakers from the JVC are okay, so whatever I do, I won’t have to replace those.

My other plan to gentrify the garage: I want to take my $9 Home Depot fan and put it on a little shelf about six feet from my workbench. I want it situated so I can reach over and turn the knob when I walk into and out of the garage. I’ve found that no matter how miserably hot it gets out there, I can survive with the fan on me.

It’s really going to hurt, throwing that pretty, new-looking free stereo on the trash heap. But you don’t pay a hundred bucks to repair something which is worth fifteen.