Blood Sports

As the searing North Texas summer temperatures have begun to slide into glorious fall cool, I received these pics from Mr. Free Market, currently experiencing the usual Scottish weather for this time of year:

Not that it’s stopped him from doing the usual…

Doc Russia’s also Over There, but no reports of his activities.  (He’s probably sleeping outside in the rain, because USMC.)

As much as I enjoy being in Britishland, that weather is best endured by sitting in a warm pub with a roaring fire on the background:

…and with the usual fare at hand:

That’s my idea of roughing it.  I’m too old for all that running around in the rain–freezing my nuts off–falling over screwing up my knee–without ever seeing a deer nonsense.


  1. Most noise-producing equipment — chain-saws, motorcycle — come with factory-installed mufflers.

  2. What did that poor deer ever do to anyone? Has Blighty run out of Muslims or Labour Ministers or squish Tories?

    Granted, the deer probably tastes better.

    1. The trouble with shooting Muslims or Labour Ministers or squish Tories is that these are protected species. If it became known that Mr. Freemarket shot them, he might also have to shoot some Bobbies, and that would end badly.

  3. The pub looks very inviting. There was a pub in Boston that had a fireplace. How they got that past the building inspector and fire marshal is a mystery that doesn’t need to be solved. There was one in Newport RI but I think they closed.

    The nicest thing about working second shift was coming home in the winter to the pellet stove sending a warm glow into the living room, making the house toasty warm and relaxing with a drink and my dog.


  4. This is the time of year I start to miss my native New England Colonial/Revolutionary era Taverns.

    There were many I frequented, but the now lost [redacted] was were I’d frequently be found ensconced on blustery autumn afternoons.

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