Meet Magyar super-swimmer Zsuzsanna Jakobos:
The eyes have it…
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Grinding Slowly
As much as I feel like saying, “What took you so long?”, I must confess to some considerable satisfaction at this development:
FBI Director Kash Patel has purged his department of agents linked to the Biden administration’s efforts to jail the Democrat former president’s electoral foe, Donald Trump.
Patel forced out field office leaders and other senior agents connected to the two criminal investigations of Trump, including the special agent in charge in Atlanta, the acting assistant director in charge of the New York field office, and the former special agent in charge in New Orleans who had recently moved on to another job, MS Now reported and two senior administration officials confirmed to Breitbart News.
As many as six agents in Miami were forced out over their connection to the FBI’s raid of Mar-a-Lago, conducted by over 30 agents accompanied by CNN cameras.
And I don’t want to hear wailing from the Usual Suspects about “Oh noes, you’re politicizing the DOJ to go after political opponents”, because you assholes fucking started it and turned it into an art form.
As a form of legalized spite (the CNN cameras), it’s hard to top this one — not to mention that their overt goal was not only to humiliate the ex-President (rummaging in the First Lady’s lingerie drawers?) but to prevent him from running for office again.
More like this, Kash. Lots, lots more.
Well There Ya Go (Part 2)
All-electric, huh? Wasn’t that the call not even a year ago? Looks like somebody may be having a change of heart:
Jaguar is reportedly considering performing a dramatic U-turn on its plans to become an exclusively electric car maker, according to reports.
Sources close to the project told the Sunday Times that bosses have instructed engineers in the UK to develop a new petrol-electric hybrid engine it can offer as an alternative option to customers in what would be a significant one eighty on its all-electric rebrand.
The ‘secret initiative’ is part of efforts to ‘soothe drivers’ concerns’ about range anxiety amid a slowdown in EV demand across several major markets, which has already triggered a number of manufacturers to delay their own plans to go all in on battery-powered cars.
And you can all stop that derisive laughter now, okay?
Just Sayin’
….that if you’re part of a highly-organized group of urban terrorists who are hell bent on disrupting a lawful police action, and you show up for your little disruption play carrying a loaded gun and spare ammo, you need to be aware of the possible consequences.
And for all the other assholes who want to get involved in this little cosplay, just realize that your organizers are looking for martyrs for their sick cause, and you’re the bit players.
Have fun storming the castle.
Hollies
No, not the 60s Brit vocal band. I refer here to that ancient bed warmer known as the hot water bottle.
With the advent of electricity, the humble hot water bottle (known to many from childhood as a “holly-bolly” or the derivations thereof) fell from favor, hanging on mostly as a palliative for things like muscle strains and sports injuries (filled either with hot- or icy water, depending on need), and the world switched to electric blankets and so on.
Well, this is all well and good; but when the electricity fails, what then?
One of the SHTF necessities I’ve mentioned often before is a butane-powered camping stove, or its smaller (and cheaper) domestic equivalent like this one:
You can of course go with the two-burner Coleman type (which is better if you’re needing to cater to a family, for instance), but I’ve always found the single to be perfectly adequate, plus it’s safer to use indoors for short periods.
Now what does this have to do with the holly?
Well, coupled with a camp kettle:
…this means that when the power goes and you don’t have access to any other heat source like a fireplace or gas heater, all you need to do is heat up some water on the camp stove, fill the holly and huddle under the blanket / duvet / whatever to keep warm.
I know, this sounds so self-evident that it invites ridicule; but at the same time, back in 2015 when most of Texas was without electricity for nearly three weeks(!), our family was caught short in the personal-heating department because we had no hot water bottles. (Of course, we had lots of electric blankets and foot warmers, a leftover from our sojourn in Chicago; but in Chicago they can handle brutal winters. Texas? Not so much, thanks for nothing ERCOT.)
New Wife and I have one each, and when this cruel winter is over I’m going to get another two. (Why? Because two is one and one is none, that’s why. And hollies wear out, especially when you fill it with very hot water — that rubber perishes, ask me how I know this.)
Yet another example of how sometimes, the old things just work better when modernity comes up short.
Gone Missing
Several people have written to me, asking about shooting the lovely Ruger Redhawk .45 Colt I got hold of a while back.
Here’s its story.
One of the things I do whenever I get a new gun is to take the Son&Heir to the range to acquaint him with more guns, because otherwise he’d just shoot his 1911 and Ruger Mk II pistols till the end of time. Occasionally that backfires on me — I’ve lost my treasured Princess Inge (Swedish Mauser) and a Marlin Mod 60* to him this way. And that’s what happened here.
We’d finished shooting about three or four different guns at Mission Ridge (his home range), and when I was packing up I suddenly noticed that the Redhawk had gone missing. When I asked him if he’d seen it, the Son&Heir said casually, “Oh, that’s going home with me.” (Said without a hint of guilt or remorse too, I have to say.)
When I half-remonstrated with him, he simply shrugged and said, “I’m going to shoot it a lot more than you are,” followed by the killer: “…and I’m going to inherit it from you anyway.” And then the final, unanswerable statement: “This way, I’m not going to run the risk of you trading or selling it, either.”
He loves shooting it, and of course he shoots it far better than I can, the little shit.
Oh well. I guess if I do want to shoot it some more, I can always ask him to bring it to the next range session.
What really got up my nose was that just the day before I’d gone to Bass Pro and acquired what we may call a “decent sufficiency” of .45 Colt ammo — so of course that disappeared into his trunk as well.
Kids… [he said proudly]
*For some reason, I cannot seem to hold onto a Marlin 60.
No sooner have I got a new one, when somebody needs one really badly and off it goes. Bought one, lent it to a friend, bought another, lent it to Adopted Daughter, same result: gone forever. In the most recent of these occurrences, the S&H was going off plinking with some of his old shooting club buddies, so he borrowed yet another Model 60 from me because all he had was a bolt-action Marlin 981T (his first-ever rifle).
When I asked how the shooting went, he mumbled something about the joys of shooting a semi-auto .22 rifle and had the decency to ask if he could keep the 60.
Oh well, could have been worse: he could have “borrowed” my brand-new Ruger 10/22…