Have Some Cheese

Via Insty, I see that some career diplo-twerp is having a conniption fit over God-Emperor Trump’s ill-treatment of career diplomats.

Within the senior ranks, however, we watched our assignment possibilities vanish as the White House left top diplomatic positions vacant and handed out others as rewards to political cronies, campaign donors, and members of President Trump’s golf clubs. Senior jobs at the State Department which had typically been filled by career foreign service officers went to blatantly unqualified appointees. Sensitive diplomatic special envoy positions were given to people such as an assistant to Trump’s son-in-law.

Boo fucking hoo.

I don’t know where this little fart has been — warming a chair in State for three decades, apparently — but along with Custer’s difficulties in Wyoming, the news is that ambassadorships have always  been a “spoils” position — doled out to political party favorites and donors.

It’s long been a truism that the entire State Department is simply a delivery vehicle for Democrat Party foreign policy, regardless of which party’s leader sits in the Oval Office or which party controls Congress, even.  And it’s also true that State hasn’t exactly covered itself in glory, either:  I remember full well how the U.S. Embassy staff in London had this huge party planned for Hillary Bitch Clinton’s coronation in 2016, and when it became apparent that she was having her broad ass kicked by the aforementioned Trump, how that party turned into a wake when the Electoral College count was concluded.

And now these apparatchiks are amazed, nay shocked  that the President places them lower than pond scum on his daily to-do list?  Frankly, I think that Trump’s swamp-draining efforts should have started with these fuckheads, and one of the few really bad hiring mistakes he made was Rex Tillotson, who as a lifelong corporate executive was always going to go with maintaining the status quo (i.e. the State Department position) in terms of our relationships with foreign powers — which is why Trump kicked him out, eventually, because Trump’s goal always was to change the nature of those relationships.

America pays a heavy price for turning statecraft into a playground for rich amateurs. Embarrassing blunders, scandals and mismanagement are commonplace for some of the most unqualified.

Uh huh.  I remember when Bill Fucking Clinton made Senator Symbol — Carol Mosely-Braun (D-IL), the stupidest senator in living history — into an ambassador, and who was so inept that the host country’s foreign services department threw a party when she finally left.  The country?  New Zealand.  Ask me how any Trump appointee could be worse than that.  (And don’t even get me started  on other Democrat SecState failures like Hillary “Libya” Clinton and John Fuckface Kerry, or we’ll be here all day.)

So the hell with these little placeholders in State.  Their influence has been either incorrect — former bootlegger-turned-ambassador Joe Kennedy telling FDR that the Brits were going to be defeated by Nazi Germany in 1939 — or even inimical to our national interests — Alger Hiss, anyone? — and the career diplomats’ much-vaunted “expertise and experience” in foreign policy is far too overestimated.

This whole lament as linked is simply a tantrum because the President isn’t doing what they think  he should be doing — almost a textbook definition of the Swamp that Trump promised to drain.

Don’t like what the Boss is doing?  Quit and put your diplomatic formal suits to good use as headwaiters, you limpwristed pantywaists, the sooner the better.

Loot

Like most Olde Pharttes, I don’t expect much for Christmas in the way of presents;  frankly, I’m quite happy if the kids can just tear themselves away from their jobs to spend the holiday with us — and this year, they did — so presents, per se, are just a bonus.

Nevertheless, I scored big this year (please excuse the pic quality):  a new 1911 holster (first in well over a decade) from El Paso Saddlery:

…and an interesting-looking knife made by Ed Mehler (note the Damascus Tanto blade): 

I think we can all agree that happiness can always be found in family, and in the shape of assorted weaponry.

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

Instead of featuring just one, let’s do a compendium, shall we?

Gas station robbery

Home invasion

Restaurant robbery

Church shooting

…and just for kicks, imagine that all the above had taken place in KalifuckingFornia.

Lots more dead folks, instead of just a few choirboys.


Update:  I see that Our Hero Jack Wilson used a SIG 229 chambered in .357SIG to whack that choirboy in the Texas church takedown.  Nice gun, fine cartridge (albeit limited demand).

Boomershoot 2020

Yup, it’s that time again.  (“That time” being wherein I discover, and not for the first time, that I am totally crap at long-range shooting.)

I just registered for Boomershoot 2020, so I’ll be up in central Idaho on May 1-3, driving all the way up from Texas for the three days prior, and all the way back down for the three days thereafter.  (I drive because of all the gear one needs to make Boomershoot feel less like the Somme circa  1916 only without being machine-gunned by Huns.)  I have not been to Boomershoot for fifteen years, and I very much doubt whether my skills have improved over the intermission.

So why am I going?  Well, I missed Mr. Free Market’s last trip to Scotland for the annual deer stalk in appalling weather conditions, so I need to punish myself — it’s the gunny equivalent of a hairshirt, to quell any feelings of pride and/or adequacy I may feel in my shooting skills, such as they are, and to remind me that shooting generally doesn’t take place in an air-conditioned indoor range, nor even in clement weather.

Organizer Joe Huffman, national treasure that he may be, is not responsible for the drenching rainstorms which sweep the area periodically, nor for the scorching sunshine when it’s not raining.  Nor is he responsible for the variable 20+ mph winds which sweep across the field, and which make shooting at inch-sized targets (at 400 yards) such an  ummm interesting  test of one’s ability to judge the likely fall of shot at the target.

So I’ll be acquiring at some point a new rain/sun shelter and a new shooting bench (the old ones having disappeared without trace into the mists of time during my fifteen years’ absence):

Not quite sure at this point what rifles I’ll be taking up.  The Son&Heir may be accompanying me (his work schedule permitting) in which case the Swedish Mauser will be putting in a repeat appearance*.  I hope he does make it:  he’s as good a spotter as he is a shooter — and at BS, a spotter is mandatory (unless you just want to shoot hundreds of rounds into the ground around the target).

But the rifles… previous experience at BS has shown me that hunting rifles (even ones as good as my Mauser M12) just don’t cut it.  You need a heavy rifle and a heavy barrel (the latter to handle the high rate of fire), and most hunting rifles’ barrels just overheat and the lightweight stocks don’t give you a steady shooting platform.  Here’s a pic of what I mean:

The guy on the left (in blue) wasn’t shooting but spotting for his buddy, who was an ungodly shot:  13 shots, 12 boomers at 800 yards.  The cartridge was .30-378 Weatherby, as I recall.

I don’t have anything like that, nor do I want to shoot a heavy bullet, despite the advantages that would bring in a stiff breeze.

I’ll be thinking about the problem over the next couple of weeks, but I’m leaning towards 7.62mm NATO / .308 Win in addition to the 6.5x55mm Swede I’ll be bringing already.  Here’s an idea of what I’m talking about:

All suggestions (especially from Boomershoot veterans) are most welcome.


*A brief word of explanation:  the S&H doesn’t enjoy shooting through a scope because, and I quote, “there’s no artistry  involved, Dad” and thus prefers to use iron sights at 400 yards.  Last time, he hit six boomers out of fifteen shots fired — in other words, as the 400-yard boomers are 4″ square, shooting MOA with iron sights, the bloody showoff.  Even the Fort Lewis Army snipers were impressed.  We’ll see if his 30-year-old eyes are up to what his 15-year-old eyes managed.

Fair Play

As one who constantly scours Teh Intarwebz for pictures and stories of Train Smash Women®, I always use Britain’s Daily Mail  as a primary source because the best source for trash is going to be trash itself.

However, in looking for evidence of New Year’s Eve Train Smashdom this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder:  why is it that the DM is always featuring these creatures in towns like Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham, Newcastle and Cardiff?  I mean, I know the reason is the same as why robbers rob banks:  it’s the low-hanging fruit principle.  But as much as I enjoy sights like this:

…I can’t help but wonder:  why does the (London-based) Daily Mail not feature similar scenes from London?  It’s not like it’s too far away for their photographers to travel, after all, and it’s not like Londoners are the model of propriety when it comes to Train Smash behavior (as I can well attest, having been there for the festive season many times).

I think we should be told.