One Hundred Years On

At 11.00am on this day in 1918, the guns at last fell silent.

Of course, the armistice came too late for millions upon millions.

For the Fallen by Robert Laurence Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

End Of An Era

As I might be unable to vote next Tuesday, I went and did the early-voting thing yesterday, punching the “straight Republican” ticket as usual.  (Not much of a wait, for a change:  only about a hundred people in line ahead of me.)

This time, however, I missed voting for our longtime Republican paisan Sam Johnson, who will be retiring (at age 86, the oldest Republican) at the end of the year.

I cannot say enough good things about Mr. Sam (as we called him):  a Vietnam POW vet, an endless opponent of not only the IRS but of the entire federal tax system (“Abolish the I.R.S.!” was once a feature of his website), a champion of veterans’ affairs (duh) and in short, a tireless hardline conservative who even in suburban TX District 3, usually squeaked by with about 65% of the vote, cycle after cycle.

So when people talk about “public service” (not meaning it as a derogatory term), this is what it’s all about.  And it’s congressmen like Sam Johnson who make a mockery of term limits initiatives — if his health had been good enough to stay in office (it isn’t), I would have continued to vote for him for the next twenty years.  In my entire life, he is the only politician to whose campaign I ever donated money.

Go with God, Mr. Sam, and thank you — thank you — for all your service as a patriot and conservative American.

And a note to Van Taylor (whom I’ve met before and voted for as well), Sam’s likely replacement in the House:  before voting on any piece of legislation, ask yourself “What Would Sam Do?” and vote accordingly.  You will not be disappointed, and most of all, you will continue to get my vote.  Now get in there, and kick Democrat ass.  Just like Sam Johnson did.

Damn it:  I have tears in my eyes.

Friday Night Movie

I’ve known about Katie Hopkins for many years now, but I was astonished to learn that few people outside the U.K. have any idea who she is.  Whatever you think of her, nobody can deny her courage and guts, and her willingness to say what’s right regardless of whether it’s popular.

Time to rectify all that, so get a cup of coffee or an alcoholic drink or two of your choice, and settle in as she beseeches the U.S. not to become like the U.K.

I have to tell you all, she makes me ashamed that I’ve not been more active and more vocal;  so starting next week you may see a lot more of the Old Kim — more angry, more vocal and more… well, more like the guy who helped start the Nation Of Riflemen and National Ammo Day.

There will be more harsh commentary, more invective, and a LOT more guns.  You have been warned.

Over-Achievers

In less than one month, three different women each gave birth to a baby. [#NotNews]

However, all three babies had the same father. [#BusyLittleBeaver(s)]

Impregnating three different women in a single month?  Dude

But then we have this guy, who took shagging to a whole new level before dying on the job with a woman just over a third his age.  Perhaps the “bad boy / animal” look had a little to do with it…

In fairness, let’s give a little nod to the fact that he was operating in a Mediterranean nightclub, giving rise to the formula:

young women + booze + vacation mood + away from home = easy shag

I would suggest that any halfway-decent-looking man might nailed at least a thousand or so, under the same circumstances and over the same time period.

Nevertheless, 6,000 women sounds like a lot (and it is).  So let’s do the rough arithmetic, shall we? Assuming he started his shag-a-thon at age 23, and assuming that he took off about three months a year when the club would have been closed for the winter, and assuming no threesomes (a bad assumption), that’s:

6,000 (women) / 40 (yrs) x 52 (wks) x .75 = ~ 4 (different) women per week, every week.

I played in a rock band during the 1970s, and take it from me:  that’s impressive.

Bravissimo, signor  Zanzi.  He makes our footballer’s hat-trick impregnation quite modest by comparison.

Tole Ya Part 2

I’ve often noted that when otherwise law-abiding people are driven to kill government agents, it’s mostly because said government is either taking or destroying that person’s property.  Here’s one such example:

Albert Dryden gunned down Harry Collinson in front of journalists when his illegally-built bungalow was due to be demolished in Butsfield, County Durham in 1991.
Harry Collinson was enforcing the demolition of Dryden’s illegally-built bungalow when Dryden drew a First World War gun and shot him dead in front of local media on June 20, 1991.
As well as shooting 46-year-old Mr Collinson, he also wounded police officer Stephen Campbell in the buttock and reporter Tony Belmont in the arm.

Okay, you maniacs can quit laughing now… although you have to admit that shooting a cop in the Butsfield [sic] and blasting a reporter may well have caused a quick grin or even a chuckle in some quarters.  You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Note that the dramatis personae of the shootees was the bureaucrat enforcing the dumb rule, the cop providing the weight of the law to its enforcement, and the media lizard who came to film (and broadcast) the confrontation because media gonna media.

Note too that all this took place in oh-so disarmed Britishland, which should offer a lesson to all gummint types, namely:  don’t fuck with an old fart who has nothing to lose.

The only glum part of the report is that Our Hero apparently repented in later life.  Not sure I would.