Author: Kim du Toit

Private Property

Government Thugs, Rights

Here we go:

A proposed rule from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) will soon take effect, forcing many private gun sellers to use the National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS) to sell their guns.

The targets of this rule are not licensed federal gun dealers, as they are already required to use the NICS on every gun sale and/or transfer.

Federal Firearms License (FFL) holders are required to conduct background checks on all gun sales and transfers because of the Brady Act (1993). That act created the NICS, and, since then, all retail sales of both new and used guns have been conducted via the NICS. Democrats have pushed to include private sales in the NICS requirement. However, Congress — even when controlled by Democrats — has refused.

But the recently proposed rule does what Congress has refrained from doing by allowing the ATF to set its sights on private, non-licensed Americans who may sell guns at some time throughout any given year…

…and when people refuse to comply with this fucking monstrosity, the rule will create criminals where heretofore none existed (as so many of these “regulations” do).

Oh, and don’t think you can get around this assholishness by swapping or bartering for guns, either.

I know, I know:

But a reminder:

This should be interesting.  My advice (and remember, I am no lawyer, nor any kind of criminal — yet):  if you are going to ignore this un-Constitutional infringement on your rights, make sure to do so only with trusted friends and family members — no strangers, ever, because you never know when the ATF is blackmailing or otherwise pressuring someone into breaking the law on their behalf.

Like they did with Randy Weaver.

Table Manners Matter

Manners

Over at the DM, Tom Utley talks about table manners, and the apparent disdain with which the foul Gen Z twerps regard them.

If we’re to believe a poll out this week, however, old-fashioned table manners will soon be consigned to history. A ­survey of 2,000 teenagers and adults found that 60 per cent of those aged 12 to 27 — known as Generation Z — think table manners in general are no longer important.

More than three-quarters of them, finds Censuswide, say they don’t care about elbows on the table, while more than half think it doesn’t matter which way round a knife and fork are held.

I have a rather jaundiced view of the whole thing, because I’ve found that all manners — never mind just  those at the table — seem to have taken flight and disappeared from modern life.  And while the article is Brit-specific, it’s certainly true in the U.S. as well, and both New Wife and I continue to throw up our hands in horror when we encounter such societal contretemps.

But as for table manners:  our kids (her two and my three) have all been indoctrinated in the matter, and I’m pleased to note that they’ve passed on that training to their other halves and kids.

I remember well the first time I noticed how well-mannered my kids were, several years ago.  The occasion was afternoon tea in the St. James Room at Fortnum & Mason, where impeccably-dressed waiters and waitresses brought us plate upon plate of foods (sandwiches, and then scones with jams and clotted cream) and of course, pots and pots of F&M’s delicious Royal Blend tea.  (It’s still the Son&Heir’s favorite, and it’s a staple birthday present choice.)  Anyway, the kids showed impeccable table manners, and of course we the parents were hugely gratified that all our efforts had not been in vain, and that we were not embarrassed by any loutish and gross behavior.  (The same was evident when New Wife and I were treated to afternoon tea at the Ritz by her two sons, a few years back:  exquisite table manners all round.)

I have a visceral reaction to someone with terrible table manners:  I finish the meal as quickly as possible, and make a point of never eating with that person ever again.  When someone gobbles down their food like a baboon, and speaks with a mouth full of food, I actually feel nauseated and try not to look at them at all.

I’m somewhat indifferent to the American style of eating, whereby one cuts the food into small pieces and then transfers the fork to the right hand to spear it.  (It’s the way children eat their food, back where I come from, but it’s a method that is firmly discouraged once they reach the age of seven or eight and have developed the dexterity to eat properly, i.e. with the fork in the left hand and the knife in the right.)

Living here in Murka, I’ve always been keenly aware that I’m the “guest”, so to speak, and that if that’s the cultural norm, then manners preclude me trying to change it in others.  That doesn’t mean that I’ve changed my eating style, of course, and when American table companions point out my “British” style of knife-and-fork usage, I just shrug and say, “South Africa was still a British colony when I was born, and that’s one of the little legacies thereof.”  To change the way I eat is unthinkable.

The whole point of good table manners is respect for the feelings of others — hell, that’s the point of good manners in toto, and not just at the table;  and I find it amusing that in these times, when everyone has to tiptoe around the feelings of others so circumspectly, that the most important of these is no longer de rigueur.

Anyway, I’m just glad that I’m unlikely to be exposed to the boorish table manners of the child-like Gen Z people, because to be honest, I have no interest in any kind of intercourse with them at all, let alone at the table.  And if exposed to them in public (e.g. in a restaurant), I’ll just put on metaphorical blinkers and try to ignore them — unless it all gets too much, and I’ll flay them with scorn and contempt, loudly if in the mood.

As Gen Z seems to be, as a whole, a bunch of tender snowflakes, I don’t think I’ll be in any danger.

Gratuitous Gun Pic: Remington Nylon 66 (.22 LR)

Gratuitous Gun Pics

I stumbled on this fine article SOTI, and I had to share it with everyone because not only is it a good analysis and background story on the wonderful old Nylon 66, but it evokes from me a feeling of deep regret, because I was once offered one for about $20, and I turned it down because to me the little gun looked kinda cheap and nasty.

It was a Black Apache like this one:

No, don’t bother to offer to kick my ass, because said ass already has an excellent set of bruises thereon, self-inflicted.

In my defense, I didn’t know as much about guns back then as I do now, and in fact I’d never even heard of the thing because of my deprived South African childhood.

Anyway, here’s a different model, the brown one:

…and one that was recently on sale at Collector’s (it’s long gone, don’t bother), and for around $650 (!!!!):

Now go and read the article, because it’s full of interesting stuff.

By the way, I rejected the Nylon 66 because it looked flimsy and cheap, whereas it’s anything but.

Don’t trust me with any investment advice;  I suck.

Never Mind The Bureaucracy

Fine Art

I was not familiar with 19th-century artist Giovanni Segantini, but I like his story, for obvious reasons:

In the spring of 1865, his mother died after spending the past seven years in increasingly poor health. His father left Giovanni under the care of Irene, his second child from a previous marriage, and again traveled in search of work. He died a year later without returning home and leaving his family nothing. Without money from her father, Irene lived in extreme poverty. She was forced to spend most of her time working menial jobs while leaving Giovanni to maintain on his own.

Irene hoped to better her life by moving to Milan, and in late 1865 she submitted an application to relinquish Austrian citizenship for both her brother and her. She either misunderstood the process or simply did not have enough time to follow through, and although their Austrian citizenship was revoked she neglected to apply for Italian citizenship. As a result, both Segantini and his sister remained stateless for the rest of their lives.

Segantini met Bugatti’s sister, Luigia Pierina Bugatti (1862–1938), known as “Bice”, and they began a life-long romance. Although Segantini tried to marry Bice the next year, due to his stateless status he could not be granted the proper legal papers. In opposition to this bureaucratic technicality, they decided to live together as an unmarried couple. This arrangement led to frequent conflicts with the Catholic church that dominated the region at this time, and they were forced to relocate every few years to avoid local condemnation.

And they stayed together for life — and the hell with both the Church and the bureaucracy.  As for his paintings, I like these ones the best:

Lovely stuff.  And like Delacroix (two weeks ago), Segantini’s work proved to be a bridge, only this time between Divisionism and Impressionism.  I get the idea, though, that style or “school” was unimportant to him:  he painted according to his own mood and feeling, blazing his own path.

My kinda guy.