Crossing America — 2022

Time to play this game again, as many people have written to ask for it.

The Challenge:  You have the opportunity to go back in time, arriving on the east coast of North America circa  1650 in the early spring, and your goal is to cross the North American continent, taking as much time as you need.  When / if you reach the Pacific coastline, you’ll be transported back to the present day.  Your equipment for this journey will be as follows (taken back in the time capsule with you):

— enough provisions for the first five days’ travel
— a backpack containing some clothing essentials
— a winter coat, raincoat and boots
— waterproof sleeping bag
— an axe
— a couple of knives, and a small sharpening stone
— a box of 1,000 “strike anywhere” waterproof matches
— a portable water filtration system
— a set of topographic maps of North America
— binoculars and a compass
— a current U.S. Army First Aid kit
ONE long gun (shotgun or rifle) and 300 rounds of ammo (but no scope;  and no interchangeable-barrel rifles like a Thompson Center Encore or Blaser;  drillings are acceptable, but you still only get 300 rounds of ammo, total)
ONE handgun (and 200 rounds)
ONE rimfire gun (either a rifle or handgun, with 500 rounds).

Once there, you’ll be given a horse, a mule and a dog or two — but apart from that, you’re on your own.  Remember you’ll be traveling through deep woods, open prairie, desert and mountains.  You may encounter hostile Indian tribes and dangerous animals en route, which should be considered when you answer the following questions (and only these):

1.  What long gun would you take back in time with you?
2.  What handgun?
3.  What rimfire gun?

Unlike previous surveys, I’m not going to tabulate the answers;  just have at it in Comments.  Reasons need not be given, as the choices will pretty much speak for themselves.  If you must  justify your choices, keep it short (as I have with mine).

Oh, and one last thing:  you can’t keep your previous choices of firearm;  you must find new ones.  So in my case, for example, I can’t pick the 1896 Swedish Mauser / CZ Safari Magnum and Ruger Redhawk .357 revolver / Springfield 1911 from the last couple of times — so my own new choices for this year are below the fold. Read more

Both Desirable

I see that Queen’s Gambit  hottie Anya Taylor-Joy is modeling Jaeger-LeCoultre watches now:

…but I have to say, her beauty is a strange one, because:

Anyway, here are a few more reference pics so you can make up your own mind:

And the more errr descriptive ones:

But that’s not really what I want to talk about here today.  Rather, I want to talk about Jaeger-LeCoultre watches, of which I’ve never owned a single one but I’d love to because they are just flat-out classy:

Of course, they do produce watches for more errr  modern tastes:

…and frankly, I think they’re both pig-ugly — aimed no doubt at the Russian Billionaire’s Son Set or else Arab sheiks, neither of which are known for their refined taste.

Hell, I’d take one of Jaeger’s second-hand and (very much-) older watches over either of those “modern” ones:

…just as I’d take Gina over Anya:

But you all knew that.

Rock, Meet Hard Place

Via Reader Mike L. I get this bit of news:

In Missouri, where abortion is illegal, Planned Parenthood sees surge in vasectomies

Doesn’t surprise me.

I had mine done in 1997, some time after my 43rd birthday, and have never looked back.  Frankly, I think that any man who doesn’t have it done by age 45 is asking for trouble, whether or not abortion is legal.  (If your Missus has had her tubes tied or her factory is otherwise disabled, then fine — but be aware that as long as the little swimmers are still there, you can still become a Daddy regardless of the recipient thereof.  I shudder just at the thought.)

And let’s not forget that nowadays you can be stuck with child support payments even if you’re not the daddy — but having had your tubes tied, such an eventuality is highly unlikely if not impossible.

I must admit that back in the times when I did this kind of thing on an ad-hoc basis, it was a real comfort to know that the old production pole had been turned into a joystick.

Sssshhhh Don’t Tell ‘Em

“When civilization falls apart, the rifle I want is an AK-47.”  We all know that famous quote, but an even better one is:  “When civilization falls, you’d better know how to survive in Nature”, as Richard Moss describes the fate of the “social elites” who don’t:

They would soon realize that their clever turns of phrase, condescending smirks, allegiance to “diversity,” abortion, and rejection of God would mean nothing before the fury of nature and nature’s God. Their fatal conceits would vanish in terrified moments as nature delivered its cruel blows. Their high-minded rhetoric, progressive orthodoxy, navel-gazing, and self-absorption would dissolve before the acid rain of Gaia’s indifferent wrath.

All good stuff.  Of course, I don’t have much of that knowledge either — or at least, it’s been largely forgotten — but I have friends who do, and I would arrive at their doorstep with tons of food, guns and ammo —  to help guard them and their loved ones against the inevitable hordes of goblins who would try to prey on them.

The East/West Coast types?  Best leave them in their ignorance.

Waste Of Time

Prompted by several men of my acquaintance, I succumbed to the hype and watched the Reacher  show on Amazon’s “Prime” channel yesterday — yeah, unto the entire first season so nobody could accuse me of missing the good part or the ending, or whatever.

What.  Bullshit.

Apart from an insanely-ridiculous plot with more holes than a mesh facemark, the entire premise of the show (stolen wholesale from the Then Came Bronson  TV series of 1969-70, only with ultra- violence added) is at about comic-book level, i.e. aimed at the nine-year-old boy mentality.

Loner comes to town, finds rampant injustice, fights against it (literally), kills everyone, wins in the end.  Clint Eastwood’s Pale Rider  did it better and more convincingly, in two hours.

I am getting so sick of people fighting in movies, landing what would be crippling blows in real life, only to jump back into the fray and land equally-devastating blows on the opponent.

Pro tip:  when someone is head-butted in the face, the result is a broken nose, broken jaw, broken cheekbone (or all the above), and temporary befuddlement if not outright unconsciousness.  In almost every fight scene in this foul waste of time, the fighters would land not one, but several head-butts on each other, with seemingly no ill effects on either.  Even worse, after the fight was over, nobody showed any ill-effects — no bruising, no fractures, nada.

In one risible fight, Our Hero Reacher gets hit not once but seven times in the ribs with a crowbar.  I hate to spoil the secret, but one blow in the ribs with a crowbar is Game Over — broken ribs, punctured lungs, organ damage — and trying to block the blow with a forearm ends with a broken arm.  And worse, when we see him later (in a predictable sex scene which made me howl with laughter, so awkwardly was it staged), there were absolutely no signs of him having been in mortal combat but a few minutes earlier.

I also think the Desert Eagle was loaded with .22 LR bullets, so little did it recoil.  Please.

Finally, the casting.  Uh huh:  a 6’5″ musclebound protagonist with a steely stare?  Shrimpy dwarf Tom Cruise was more convincing in the movie version, because at least he could hide in a crowd if he had to.   This man-mountain would stand out on Muscle Beach in L.A.

One-dimensional:  the character, the plot, the bad guys, everything.  Oh, and answer me this:  mid-summer in a small town in Georgia, and nobody’s perspiring outdoors?

This show is quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen on TV, and any future series is going to be roundly ignored, with prejudice.