Expert Witness

Film Nostalgia? Space Film.

2008-07-24T11:56:00.006-05:00

The Valley Theatre, Alameda Blvd, El Paso, Texas - - some time in 1954. High anticipation. The previous week, I’d seen the preview of the newly released science fiction feature, “Riders to the Stars.”

The trailer was full of swoopy rockets, dauntless men in space suits, a beautiful woman, futuristic electronics gear in a lab, all kinds of nifty stuff. For a ten or 11-year-old kid all agog with the newly discovered wonders of sci fi, it was like a dream come true.

The taglines:
SEE! the breathtaking sight of earth as seen from outer space!
SEE! the fantastic 'meteor attack' as rocket and meteor crash head-on in a space-splitting collision!
Hurtle toward the far reaches of the universe with the space vikings of the future!
SEE! men and equipment float in air, trapped where there is no gravity - no up or down!

I can’t be sure of exactly when I saw the movie. The date of release shows January 1954, but I met my pal David Glenn in the fifth grade, and that wasn’t until Fall of ‘54. Doesn’t matter now, though.

On Saturday, I rode the bus from home and met Dave at the theatre for the matinee. Our normal routine was to see a movie, ride the bus downtown, eat a hamburger at a stand on the north side of the San Jacinto Plaza, hit the public library for new books --anything in aviation, war, or science fiction - -, wander around downtown, and ride the bus back to Dave’s home. Total cash expenditure, under a buck apiece.

That particular Saturday, the movie was different. Not the usual western or adventure stuff, but a real, Technicolor, SPACE MOVIE. Yes, we saw it. I’d like to say that big parts of the film were clear in my memory, but I can’t. At this late date, I recalled the general plot, but only a couple of specific scenes. Unlike so many other old flicks, I’d never seen it on re-release, on TV, or seen it offered for rental.

Flash forward several decades. This morning, flipping through the cable TV menu, I encountered the title. It had already been running for about an hour, but I eagerly switched channels. Thomas Wolf wrote, “You can’t go home again.” So true. No, I didn’t expect to recapture the juvenile excitement of those long ago days. I did think to enjoy the nostalgia of it, though. Too bad.

The premise: Scientists needed to capture a chunk of rock from a meteor shower before it went through entry into the earth’s atmosphere. The government was sending up three rocket drivers to scoop up the space debris and bring it back safely. I missed the early preparations for the mission. I tuned in while the Crusty Chief Scientist (father of one of the space pilots) was giving the mission briefing. His visual aids? A medium size white board and an early Marks-a-Lot. Main assistant to CCS was a female physicist who was also sweetheart of main rocket driver.

The film makers kinda skimped on the props. All the rockets and peripherals were simply stock footage of captured German V2 gear, filmed at (then) White Sands Proving Grounds. The trailers, cranes, guys in army uniforms - - all US Govt gear and personnel on stock film, with the New Mexico mountains in the background. The rocket cockpit interiors were huge. Each pilot had ONE guy to help him don space helmet and strap onto an acceleration couch (an aluminum lawn lounge with extra padding?)

The preparations for the big mission reached a hasty, if not fevered pitch. The love interest told everyone ot hurry up, and the next announcements were, “Two minutes to firing . . . One minute . . . Thirty seconds,” and then a whole five-second countdown. Three rockets in formation, like 50 feet apart at 18,000 miles per hour. Yeah, I expected some rather primitive special effects, but there had been pretty good animation around for a couple of decades. Too expensive, I guess. You can see the models sway on their threads.

Intercepting the meteor shower, one rocket collides with a rock and disintegrates. We see a close up of a pressure suit floating in space with a skull inside the helmet. A second pilot freaks out and the rocket is last seen departing for the outer galaxy at full acceleration. Naturally, our hee-roe completes the mission and he and physi-chick live happily ever-cetera.

Well, at least I didn’t pay money to rent the film. Hey - - You weren’t REALLY expecting this to be a reprise of Peter’s Weekend Wings series, were you?

JPG

Spreading Like, uh, Influenza

2008-07-24T00:40:00.003-05:00

Well, I saw this thing about Happy Fly on Roberta X's blog, and got curious. Hey, why not give it a try? I bit - - So can you.

Excellent posts by OLD NFO

2008-07-19T21:45:00.002-05:00

Somehow, when I changed computers, I failed to include this good writer’s superb blog, called Nobody Asked Me on my Favorites bookmarks. I‘ve read a number of his well-reasoned and pithy comments but had never gotten into the habit of reading his blog. THAT’s changing as of today. I DO have a sidebar link to his site.

Two particularly interesting Old Nfo posts deal with candidate Obama‘s Not Exactly , posted SU13JUL, and Get out of jail free card (for real)..., which is the second part of his entry for FR18JUL. Both are highly worth the read time.

JPG

Another Two-Inch .38

2008-07-17T00:38:00.004-05:00

Xavier, the Nurse with a Gun, writes an excellent blog, well worth reading. One of his regular features is to detail some of his wanderings on the local gun and pawn shop circuit. In his entry for WE 16 JUL he tells us of looking at an example of the Charter Arms Undercover snub nose .38. I started a lengthy comment on his topic, and then realized two things.

One: No matter how compellingly interesting my comments may be, people go to HIS blog to read HIS stuff, not mine.

Two: My own blogging has been rather sparse of late, and I could do a post of my own, tied to Xavier’s. So, if you haven’t already done so, pause here, click the above date link, and read Xavier’s Thoughts first. Go ahead. We’ll still be here when you finish.

Back so soon? Excellent. Now, some background stuff on that little resolver.
A little bit-o'-history first.
Douglas McClenahan, a former employee of Colt, High Standard, and Ruger, started Charter Arms in 1964. The initial offering was the .38 Special "Undercover." It was a near-twin to the very popular Smith & Wesson Chief's Special, though quite different in design details. It was promoted as "A pound of protection," and "The lightest steel framed .38 revolver." The light weight was due to providing the steel frame with bolted-on alloy trigger guard and grip frame. It worked out quite well.

Charter Undercover .38 Special Revolver -- This example is fitted with a Tyler T-Grip adapter

Not terribly popular at first, and certainly not as handsome as the S&W snubbies, the new Charter revolver was dependable and of good quality, at a substantially lower price than the S&W and Colt’s offerings. The size was near enough that the Undercover could be carried in holsters intended for the Chief's Special.

The Undercover truly came into its own during the Vietnam war, when S&W was devoting most of their production to U.S. Government contracts. S&W produced their J-frame pieces only sporadically during that period. The rest of the time, their production lines were running full blast to provide K-frame revolvers, mostly for U. S. aviation personnel. During this time, the Charter was available on the home front. Many large law enforcement agencies which had previously specified only S&W or Colt revolvers for duty use now approved the Undercover for plainclothes personnel and for off duty carry.

There was some distrust of the durability of the Charter Arms revolvers, especially when subjected to police qualification courses several times a year. All in all, though, the guns held up well, and were certainly adequate in durability and accuracy for light duty use. Even with the later popularity of “Plus P” .38 ammunition, the Undercover held up quite well. The frame, after all, was steel. More significantly, in such a lightweight revolver, the higher pressure ammo was downright rigorous to fire in practice. As with the S&W and Colt alloy framed numbers, many were carried with the heavy loads, but most range practice was conducted with standard or target-power cartridges.

The history of Charter Arms and the other handguns in that product line makes good reading.

Charter revolvers have figured prominently in three notorious crimes:

-- Arthur Bremmer attempted to assassinate US Presidential candidate George C. Wallace on 15 May 1972. He wounded Wallace and three bystanders, using a Charter Undercover .38 revolver.

--In 1976--77, David Berkowitz murdered six persons and wounded seven others using a Charter .44 Special Bulldog revolver. Before his arrest, the shooter was called “The .44 caliber killer.“ After his arrest, the crime spree was known as the “Son of Sam” killings.

--On 8 DEC 1980, Mark David Chapman murdered British musician John Lennon in New York City. He shot the former Beatle four times with hollow point bullets fired from a Charter Undercover .38.

The brand of firearm used by these criminals is, of course, totally insignificant. It is mentioned here simply in recognition that the type gun used was widely reported in each of these cases. As with other brands, the vast majority of Charter firearms are lawfully owned and legally used by decent individuals.

For example - - - Several months ago, I ran across a used-but-good-condition Charter Undercover at a reasonable price in a local pawn shop. Beloved Bride Holly and I were satisfied enough with it that we took her daughter to look at the piece. It felt good in her hand, so we bought it for her birthday gift. It is a vote of our confidence for the product, that we would provide it to BB's Angel Baby Girl for use as a "life preserver."

I’m aware that Xavier has other guns, but at the price he mentioned in his post, I believe the Undercover would certainly be worth having on hand. “The Other American .38 Snub Nose” is still a serviceable and worthwhile defense arm.

JPG.

Guess I'm Not Much of a Western Movie Figure

2008-07-13T07:47:00.002-05:00

I first saw this posted by Phlegmfatale on her blog, and was compelled to participate. I'm not too sure of the result I got, but, hey, it's all in fun, huh?

What Kind of a Western Bad-Ass are You?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Clint Eastwood

Names aren't important as you dish out steaming bowls of piping hot brutality to your enemies. You also enjoy a good spaghetti dinner once in a while.

Clint Eastwood

63%

John Wayne

50%

Lee Van Cleef

50%

Lee Marvin

38%

Charles Bronson

38%

What gets me is that my own Beloved Bride scored as more of a badass than I did.

Really, though, my self image is more of a James Garner/Maverick type western movie figure: Able to handle a difficulty when necessary but preferring to handle it with a smile and a mild answer which (hopefully) turneths away wrath.

JPG

A New Cop Blog

2008-07-11T08:24:00.004-05:00

By way of Friend LawDog, I learn of a new cop blogger in our North Texas area, Cowtown Cop. I’ve read all he’s published so far and I am impressed. He clearly has a good eye and ear for the humorous aspects of peace officery. Even more importantly, in my mind, is that he has a basic respect for the armed private citizen, and by extension, I bet he also respects the rest of the Bill of Rights. Couple this with an appreciation for old firearms, and he appears to have the makings of someone fit to ride the road with.

And, yes, BB and I are back from our little sojourn in Mizzoura. As expected, blog material abounded and it’s but a matter of time until I get some of it properly written up. Don’t give up on me, and in the meantime, drop on over and take a look at Cowtown Cop‘s bloggery.
JPG.

Travel: On the road again

2008-07-02T09:05:00.003-05:00

I’ll be gone for several days. We’re visiting friends -- Holly’s originally, but mine, too, now - - in the Kansas city, MO, area.

I'll check in a time or two from there, but won't have time to write much, if any.

Yeah, I know: About the time I start posting regularly, I'm in the wind. Oh, well.

All best,
JPG

A Farewell to Doglet

2008-07-01T18:58:00.005-05:00

I am very happy that my Beloved Bride has formed a friendship with the always-estimable Phlegmfatale. They share blogging and shooting and a love of outlandish footwear as some of their common interests. Additionally, they each have an almost unreasonable affection for dogs. Sad to say, Phlegmmy has just lost her esteemed friend of many years, the beautiful Valentine, embodiment of the excellent Jack Russell breed.

In a current blog post, Phlegmfatale shares with us her feelings on this occasion. Being an intelligent and grown-up lady, Ms. Fatale will in due course get past the grieving, the huge, painful, gaping emptiness she now feels. I pray that the remaining feelings will only encompass the warm memories of the years she shared with her Doglet.

Clearly, there are those who feel no particular affection for animals in general, nor for dogs in particular. I’m not writing of “working dogs,” those which are almost necessary in working many kinds of livestock, for personal protection or security work, nor even the beautifully efficient hunting breeds. Such animals are very useful, even for those who have few or no personal feelings for dogs. One may make a logical case that there’s little cause to invest one’s human feelings in a canine. After all, there’s little profit in it. There are losses enough in life without exposing oneself to additional grief by dedicating effort and emotion to a mere dog.

I have a big, distinguished looking Yellow Labrador, a real calendar boy. BB has two other dogs for which I’ve developed a rather unreasonable affection. It is practically unthinkable that I may one day go on without any of them. Forget logic or objective reasoning. I can clumsily relate to both sides of this discussion. I think, though, that no one has ever touched on the topic as well as Brother Kipling:

"The Power of the Dog"
"GARM -- A HOSTAGE" -- ACTIONS AND REACTIONS

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie --
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find -- it's your own affair --
But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone -- wherever it goes -- for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;

For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long --
So why in -- Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Rudyard Kipling
Actions and Reactions
1909

Summertime Luge Event (Asphalt)

2008-06-29T17:22:00.003-05:00

Fellow blogger Ambulance Driver relates his unintentional entry into the traffic Olympics in a current post. Happily, he barely managed to make his mark in the standings and, being young and healthy, should heal up rapidly. Even his scoot should recover with minimal capital outlay. Being a FAIRLY rational being, I’m sure he’ll admit to having undergone an attitude adjustment in a couple of seconds of, shall we say, high anxiety. I’m most happy his physical trauma was minimal and the visible damage was mainly limited to fabric and metalwork.

(No, this is NOT AD's bike, just a convenient image.)

I’ll admit that my own experience in motorcycling has been small and narrow. My late brother Jerry was into dirt biking and he’d occasionally invite me for a day’s scrambling about the trails. It was lotsa fun and even at low speeds, provided enough thrills for me. Still, I managed to break a bone in my right hand and got some scratches from time to time.

Back while I was a police patrolman for a suburban department, I lived in Fort Worth and it was about a 15-minute drive to work. Money was not plentiful, and from time to time I was inspired to explore more economical modes of travel. Hey, gasoline was headed toward a dollar a gallon back then. I cared little for huge, powerful motorcycles, but thought to pick up a good, used medium-sized bike. I didn’t want my six-five, 240+ frame to look like a circus bear on a mini-bike. I even got to the point of shopping around a couple of times.

Unfortunately (for some others) and more luckily (for me,) every time I got serious with this idea, I’d work or assist at some serious accident involving a motorcycle. This would revive the uneasy feelings about going into traffic on two wheels which my Dad had instilled in me early on. Sure, I could rationalize the situation. I was not some daredevil kid. I was a mature man, a cop who would frequently ride to work in uniform, and it would be necessary to - - well, at least, not present a BAD image. I knew the concept of driving defensively -- that phrase was just coming into common use at the time. I’d keep a good lookout at all times and obey BOTH the traffic laws and physical principles: If a few hundred pounds of ’cycle and rider come into violent contact with a couple of tons of four+ wheeler, the former ALWAYS loses. If I simply did everything right, all would be well.
Wouldn’t it?

Let’s see - - It was during warm weather, sometime in 1971, I think. I was working a district which included part of a Corps of Engineers lake and surrounding parks. Dispatch sent me to the scene of a major traffic collision on one of the park roads. Ambulance en route, backup unit coming from the north end of town. I was on the scene in two minutes, but a volunteer fireman and a nurse were already there. I parked, leaving room for the ambulance and trotted over to them. Their gray looks and the motorcycle wedged beneath the front of a large sedan pretty well provided the prognosis.

The ambulance guys did their thing and I did mine. Fortunately, there had been witnesses to the entire situation. The motorcyclist, mid-twenties, clean-cut, be-helmeted, had been putting along the park road - - Good, dry asphalt, two wide lanes, no curbs. The posted speed limit was 35 mph, and a following motorist said they were both doing somewhat less. A beautiful day, plenty to see, no rush.

The road took a gentle curve to the right, around a steep hill. On the opposite side of the road, the ground sloped downward. A pickup truck, brand and color not now recalled, was oncoming. The cyclist edged slightly to the right, making sure he didn’t crowd the center line. Here’s where things became a bit sudden. Another oncoming vehicle, this one a green Chrysler, appeared. Everyone later agreed that not a soul involved was speeding, nor out of their proper lanes. The motorcyclist encountered a minor spray of gravel on the pavement, apparently left by some earlier motorist cutting the curve edge slightly. There was only a few pounds of rock in the traffic lane.

The cyclist steered his front wheel through the rock but the back tire caught some of it and began sliding to the left. Even at the modest speed, the rear tire broke loose and the bike went down on its right side. The rider was observed to pull up his right leg and hold on for the ride. Three witnesses -- one following, one in the pickup truck, and the driver of the Chrysler -- all said it was as if in slow motion. The bike slid right across, into the path of the green car. The driver, standing on the brake pedal, started off to his right but was looking straight into the cyclist’s face as he disappeared under the hood. The front bumper of the Chrysler caught the cyclist on the brow, immediately below the expensive Bell helmet.

Highway Patrol and a Sheriff’s Deputy arrived while I was questioning witnesses, and I had time to do good interviews and take complete statements. I got clear photographs of the markings on the pavement. The State Patrolman (this was before they were called State Troopers in Texas) helped me with the calculations. Closing velocity at impact was likely under 20 mph. All three officers agreed: There was no wrongdoing on the part of any person. This was as true a pure accident-by-misadventure as one could imagine. NO excessive speed. NO fail to yield. NO drive in wrong lane. NO evidence of alcohol or other drug involvement. Sometimes, stuff just occurs. In this case, simple happenstance left a young widow groping for an explanation, with a little boy too young to comprehend. A few years thereafter, an organ harvest might possibly have given some cosmic justification for the incident, but this was a bit early on . . . .

I probably drove that stretch of park road a hundred times thereafter, before moving on to a better job. NEVER did I pass that way without thinking of the dead motorcyclist -- and the distraught driver of the green sedan. And NEVER again did I even consider buying my own motorcycle for commuting.

Please don’t get me wrong. I’ve nothing personal against two-wheelers, nor against those who enjoy riding them. It’s just not for me.

JPG

A Heroine for the Ages

2008-06-28T10:30:00.007-05:00

IN REMEMBRANCE
IRENA SENDLER
1910 -- 2008

My friend and former co-worker, Bob Powell, sent me this e-mail:
--------------------------
This is one of those stories that breaks your heart and makes you glad to be alive all at the same time.
Sendler -VS- Al Gore

This is the kind of story - tribute, really - that comes along only a VERY few times in your life. PLEASE watch this. If you have anything else that is more important, put it on the back burner for less than 3 minutes. It can wait. This is about Irena Sendler - a Polish woman ... but I'm not going to tell you any more. I guarantee that you will sit there, at the end, with your mouth agape at the very least.

As always

Bob

------------------------------------------------------------------------
And my reply:

That was excellent, Bob. Thanks for sending it along. I watched that particular tribute with great interest, and then spent some additional time watching most of the other YouTube clips pertaining to Ms. Sendler.

I'm ashamed to say I'd never heard of that courageous lady before today. Her actions and life stand as an inspiration to us all. (I HAVE heard of Al Gore, and his Peace Prize. Sorry, but I can't say I'm particularly inspired by THAT lying sack of excrement.) I'll FWD your e-mail and the link to several friends and family members. Ms. Sendler certainly deserves to be remembered.

By the way: I notice she died on my birthday. Would that I -- any of us-- could claim to have made one-tenth the contribution to the world she did.

All best to you and your family.
----------------------------------------------------------

A more complete story of Ms. Sendler’s life and her activities in Warsaw, written during her life, may be read in Irena’s Children.

JPG

Along the Border

2008-06-25T23:00:00.001-05:00

I spent some 20 years of my Peace Officer career as a District Attorney’s Investigator. Most Texas Prosecutors and their staffs were members of the Texas District and County Attorneys Association. These remarks apply to the association as it was from early 1970s through 1992. There were obvious benefits of professional camaraderie and training, plus a lot of social interaction at the various gatherings of the association. The annual meetings were spread around the state, so the same members didn’t always need to travel to a central location. The DA of a District up in the panhandle was heard to complain of always needing to drive or fly to Travis County for committee meetings. He said, “Some people don’t realize that there are four other state capitols closer to me than Austin.”

Some years ago, an annual TDCAA meeting was held in El Paso, at the far west end of Texas. That year, the New Mexico Prosecutors’ association held their yearly get-together in conjunction with us. The then-president of the NM group addressed the combined groups during an early session. He paid tribute to the various peace officers also attending the meeting. He told a story, to this effect - - -

Wild and wooly as was New Mexico in the old days, Texas held the title for most badmen and toughest lawmen per square mile. Some time around 1900, several banditos stormed into a small town near the border and robbed the local bank. They got a goodly haul and took off southward. It happened there was a Texas Ranger encampment nearby, and within the hour, four Rangers were hot on the trail.

The next day, the lawmen reached a small village somewhere near the river and surprised the desperados in the local cantina. A noisy difficulty ensued, fatal for all but one of the robbers. Only a few gold coins were found. The sole surviving outlaw spoke no English whatever, and alas, the Rangers didn’t have 20 words of Spanish between them. The bilingual tavern operator was conscripted as translator.

The Ranger Captain had him tell the outlaw that they needed to recover the bank loot so they could take it, and him, before a judge. El senor bandito was uncooperative. The tired, dusty Ranger had the cantinero explain that, if they couldn’t take back the gold, they wouldn’t take back a prisoner either. He punctuated his statement by cocking a large pistol pointed at the outlaw’s head.

The barkeep carefully and at length explained the situation in Spanish: The capitan of rinches states that if you don’t give up the loot at once, he will kill you on this spot.

The bandit swallowed hard and declaimed: Clearly, this capitan is a brutal and determined man. Very well. We stopped at the jacal of my cousin Rodrigo, an hour to the west of here. I hid the gold in his well, behind the dark colored stone in the third row down.

The cantina operator turned back to the Rangers and sadly shook his head. “This terrible criminal says, you go ahead and shoot. He ain’t afraid to die.”

History: 132 years ago on the Greasy Grass; TV: 44 years ago on the tube

2008-06-25T16:49:00.009-05:00

In her own fine blog, Friend Tamara makes note that this is the anniversary of George A. Custer’s demise at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876. It is strange that this is how that conflict is known to most people. It is more customary for the victors in a battle to provide a label for the event. The Lakota referred to it as the Battle of Greasy Grass Creek.

Battle of Greasy Grass byTucson Artist Allan Mardon

One commenter, Ben, wrote, “Anyone else remember 'The 7th is Made Up of Phantoms'?'

Too bad you couldn't bring up the tank. It woulda helped.'

For some reason, I was thinking of that excellent fantasy/time warp episode of "The Twilight Zone" just the other day. I didn't recall the name, though, until Ben mentioned it. I’m glad he did. It provided me a good hour of Googling and watching the old TV show on YouTube. This link will get you to part 1 of 3 and links to the other parts. It is worth watching.

Yes, the acting was a bit heavy handed, but it was a good view. I only noted a couple of historical problems.

One was the National Guard’s use of a very old M5 Stuart tank instead of a later M4 Sherman or M24 Chaffee.

And both the MSGT and the CPL wore rifle cartridge belts while armed with carbines. For being such a history buff, you'd think MSGT Connors would have called Custer by his proper rank, Lieutenant Colonel. The officer was appointed to the temporary brevet rank of Major General in OCT 1864 and then reverted to Brevet Brigadier General 13 MAR 1865, near the end of the War for the Liberation of the Southern Confederacy. He acted as BG for a bit over a year before being returned to his permanent rank of LTC. (JUL 1866, until KIA 25 JUN 1876.)

Historically, George Armstrong Custer was an audacious, aggressive, courageous cavalry leader. He was also extremely egotistical, arrogant, and headstrong. These characteristics sometimes lead to glory, and frequently to one’s early demise. Unfortunately, they also often result in heavy losses amongst those who must follow the leader’s orders.

Mug Meme

2008-06-09T12:33:00.001-05:00

Oh-Kay. Elder Son Matt G tagged me, along with several others, to display what mug/coffee container/tea cup we are currently using. He specified, No fair picking a special mug-- this is a come-as-you-are party. (Or in my case, come-as-I-was.)

Good enough, then.

When I first read Matt's this morning, this -- the clear glass one -- is what I had on my mini-hotplate coffee warmer next to my keyboard. The lettering on the other side says, "pessimist's mug."

Beloved Bride gave it to me for my recent birthday. It came from http://www.despair.com/ . It's worth a click to see all the nifty stuff they offer. I'll bet BB has spent a couple of hundred dollars ordering gifts from them.

The other cup is just a standard-type to-go Styrofoam cup with a particularly well-designed lid and an attractive printed design. I probably have six or eight road cups, none with matching lids. The only good ones end up being given to visitors about to hit the road, or else I leave them somewhere. Hey, I drink so much bad coffee in so many questionable places, I can't tell that the expanded plastic is hurting the taste. If I reach home with such a cup and a good lid, I rinse and dry them for later use.

Anyhow, I'll tag two residents of Louisiana, the Bayou Renaissance Man and Ambulance Driver . Let's see what they're using for sipping vessels.

JPG

Watching the high darkness . . .

2008-06-09T00:47:00.002-05:00

And BOOM, there it was! Up in the sky, right on time. Precisely on time.

Late evening, 8JUN2008. I was set up on the tool box of my truck, 8x40 binoculars in hand, glancing at my watch occasionally. Then, there was a BRIGHT light peeking out from behind a tree, kind of, no, Exactly to the northwest. Moving? Yes, moving FAST. I fine tuned the focus of my glasses. I couldn't make out any detail - - It was just a very bright, white light. Did I say it was fast? I've seen jet aircraft at low altitude go across my sky faster, but never with any altitude. I watched it the entire sweep. I was a little close to the trees to my immediate SE, but the light was dimming rapidly at that point. I lost it behind the trees about the time it got too dim to see.

I had seen the International Space Station, with the Space Shuttle Discovery docked. Real time, no video, no film - - live action from outer space, boys and girls.

Total duration of this viewing? Maybe 40 seconds, perhaps over 50. Who cares? I saw it. It was very worthwhile. My thanks to Elder Son for giving me the time and spotting information. I was kind of, sort of, uh, PROUD, in a strange way. I've been quietly advocating for the space program since before we really HAD such a thing.

I've been disappointed that the effort got stalled for so long. But this, this was tangible, visible evidence that we DO have human beings up there, out beyond the atmosphere. Okay, maybe not in way far, DEEEEP Space, but, right on out there. And the dream lives on.

I climbed down from my truck bed and headed into the house. I was smiling.

I hope your evening went as well.

JPG

Making some progress

2008-06-04T18:24:00.003-05:00

I went to Cabela's for a while this afternoon. I picked up a pound of Unique and tried to buy an eight-pound container of Win 231. They had it in the distribution center and I was going to pre-pay for that and pick it up at the store, to avoid shipping charges. Turned out they can't do it that way. They could send it to my home, but would have to charge some $10 shipping PLUS the $20 HazMat fee. This additional $13 just ruins the economy of buying in bulk. So I cancelled the request.

I got some more bullets to try in my Super .38: Hornady XTP in 124 and 147 grain weights. Picked up some .357 SiG ammo for Matt. This is about the best price this side of a gun show, and it's really stunning how much ammo prices have risen in this past year. Oh, well . . . If you're gonna play the game, and all that.

Apparently Speer is about to bring out a new edition of their Loading Manual. I bought a copy of the current (??) edition for ten bucks.

My old concealment vests were getting pretty ratty - - I still have an ancient "Shoot Me First" vest from Banana Republic, as well as about three Chinese knock-offs of same. I got an entirely different model with button front and a lot fewer pockets. Also, a good blue windbreaker. I've pretty well gotten the jump on this fall/winter. Lotta good these garments will do me until then. Current temp outside: 94 F.

Hasta - -

JPG

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTY -- Please Stand By

2008-06-03T16:41:00.001-05:00

Well, the best laid plans, and all that.

I shut down my computer the other night, just as normal. The following morning, I turned it on, with every intention of running my traps, checking the news, and doing my daily reading. I was then going to settle down and do some serious writing. I had two blog posts in mind, and wanted to start on a couple more. The only problem: My computer wouldn't boot up. I could get to the opening screen, but no farther.

Hummm - - I called a couple of friends who have a lot more cyber expertise than I. It really doesn't take much to reach THAT standard. Some were out of touch, some out of town, and . . . ? I phoned Peter who had provided invaluable support in the past. The hitch there is that he lives several hours away. Our discussion boiled down to - -

A. Spend big bucks at the local technicians, with a predictably daunting minimum bench fee. This might easily result in fees well above the worth of a two-year-old computer.

B. Await Peter's next visit, at least a couple of weeks away, and see if he could remedy the situation, OR

C. Shop around with a view toward getting a new 'puter, and hope to install my old hard drive and try to access that using the new rig.

The latter seemed best, especially when Beloved Bride checked around on-line and found that Fry's in Irving had a sale in progress. I phoned and discussed the matter with a helpful technical guy. He verified that the item I was considering had enough room in the case to hold my old hard drive. The price, while a little bothersome, wasn't as bad as I'd feared.

I did the hour's drive, took in by old processing unit and found the guy I'd talked with on the phone. He soon had me fixed up with the new purchase, a refurbished Compaq with a 90-day warranty. I also purchased a two-year extended warranty and paid for removal of the old hard drive and re-installation in the new unit. They did the work while I waited, drank coffee, and read a new Loren Estleman book. I was out in not much over an hour.

Have I mentioned that I'm essentially cyberlexic? On a good day, I can find the "ON" switch and fumble my way around the 'net. I can barely use a couple of word processing programs, and can play Free Cell and solitaire. My younger son despairs of my learning to play any more complicated games. Anyhow, I'm trying hard to install Open Office and implement some sort of image management arrangement. I much prefer to write off-line and just cut-and-paste my work onto the blog. And I really enjoy presenting some images with the text. Oh, well, things will proceed, however slowly.

I've managed to do some hand loading in the past several days, and have a working stock of my favorite low-end .357 magnum ammo, a fair number of .44 Specials, and, joy of joys, I've loaded my first hundred or so Super .38 cartridges. Matt and I spent a couple of hours at the range Sunday aftrernoon, and I'm very gratified with the way the new/old Super shoots. Later on, I'll discuss why this was NOT a foregone conclusion. I have a lot of experimenting to do with Super .38 loads. Right now, I'm satisfied that I have a good target/training/steel plate load. I'll want to develop a good, stout-but-not-maximum 124-grain JHP load, and likely something with a good 147-grain hunting bullet.

I'm satisfied with my .357 loads, both low-end and the heavy loads using 158-grain JHP bullets. My all-around .44 Special load is good, and I may or may not bother to work up a heavy hunting load.

Anyhow, as I regain computer capability, I'll have plenty on which to write, just on handgun cartridges. I also ponder a couple of historical items.

Later - -
JPG

It's been a whole MONTH?

2008-05-27T00:47:00.004-05:00

A couple of readers have been kind enough to ask if all was well, as it's been so long since I've done any blogging.

Yes, I'm okay, and I do appreciate your asking. It's really a combination of things - - Been quite busy with other stuff lately, and there's . . . not really a BLOCK, but a little difficulaty in getting thoughts down in a coherent manner. I really have tried - - I have three or four pieces I've started, gotten halfway through, and became distracted or bogged down.

I really need to pull our a couple of them and put on the finishes so I can post 'em.
Previews of coming attractions: Matt and I are going to haul out the old Oehler chronograph and see if it still works. We need to do some testing of new-to-us loads. I'll do a more complete review/range test of an S&W model 21-4 .44 Special. Friend Tamara featured this model in a recent Arms Room installment. Mine will concentrate on loads, light and heavy, and some more historical anecdotes.

Beloved Bride got me a truly handsome birthday gift. Through an on-line auction she bought a fifty-year-old Colt Super .38. FedEx tracking says it should reach my local FFL next Wednesday afternoon, and I'm writhing with anticipation. I'll give details of the acquisition, range testing, historical context, and other stuff.

Well, it seems I've taken the process of making excuses and turned it into at least some kinda blog entry. I'm really flattered at the interest, and I'll submit something halfway substantial soon.

Best,
JPG

The One-Two-Three Meme

2008-04-25T13:36:00.002-05:00

My Beloved Bride just did this one in her 25APR entry. She says she got it from John S. He and LawDog both received it from Matt, who blames it on Tamara who in turn got it here, from the first blogger in the string I don't personally know. Hey, this is more fun than the actual meme.

Speaking of which, here's the Book Meme - - -

1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123.
3. Find the first five sentences.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Well, okay.

1. Humm - - I reached onto the book shelf above my monitor and took down the first book I touched. Not a good one. Second one, also not good for this purpose. I did NOT cheat, but both of those books were technical references, consisting largely of tables and lists. Right. This third one will work.

2. Done

3. Let's see . . . three, four, five. Okay, listo.

4. It was not a popular cartridge, and died out in 1912. Like most other single-shot cartridges, this one was too long for the short repeating actions such as the Model 92 Winchester. These were, in addition, too small for the larger actions.

Go 'way down past the end to see the source of this quote, and a small challenge.

5. Let's see - - I've never tagged anyone for a meme before. Most of those I'd bother with this have already participated. Let's see if these three have time to participate.
Ambulance Driver
Fatale Abstraction's own Phlegmfatale
Marko

And anyone else who wants to go along.

Best regards
JPG

PS - - My three sentences came from Cartridges of the World, 11th Edition, by Frank C. Barnes. Name the cartridge referenced and win a lollipop.
J

Lazy Day, Light Supper

2008-04-23T22:28:00.003-05:00

I spent all day, hanging out 'round the homestead, just doing odds and ends of stuff. I'd loaded up a bunch of .38 Special cartridges and needed to gauge 'em all. I'm glad I did, because one round that didn't have a proper crimp and really didn't want to chamber. Under some conditions, this could be a bit inconvenient.

BB had previously scheduled dinner with a pal. She asked if she should bring me some food when she returned. I told her, no, I'd either fix something or go out for a meal. I really don't mind eating alone, especially when I have a good book with me. I have a nearly finished Pournelle mercenary novel, and also General Doolittle's autobiography, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again. It stays in my truck as contingency reading material, and I'm only about 20% into it.

So, I pondered what kind of really nice meal I'd buy for myself. Chinese buffet? No, BB likes that, too, and I'll save it for some time when we're eating out together. Mexican food is always a good choice, but same comments apply. Korean food? It's been a while since I've had bulgogi and kimchi, but that didn't strike a chord. Greek? No, we had that just the other evening.

I didn't want a sandwich or a burger - - These are lunch fare, or something to eat on the run. Hey! Jason's Deli has a dyn-o-mite salad bar. I can certainly make a sumptuous meal on an elaborate salad. But no, it's already warm weather, and soon enough, it'll be hot in North Texas. I'll be eating a lot of salad and fruit lunches once it does. Italian? There are two really good restaurants nearby. But that's really heavier fare than I want this evening.

Well, if I can't become enthusiastic over anything, I'll hold off 'til I can. I'll fix myself some sort of meal, even if it's just a can of soup. Checking the pantry . . . Alright. Here's a can of Campbell's Chicken Gumbo. I haven't had authentic, down-on-de-bayou Cajun Curry since I wrote up the recipe back in February. I loaded up the rice cooker, put it on, and started on the curry.

Huh. Thought we had a can of white meat chicken to add to the rather thin gumbo. None present. Well, I can do without. About the time everything was ready, BB returned home. They'd called it off early. She hadn't been able to finish her order of catfish and brought home a “doggie bag.” HAH! The dogs weren't getting anywhere NEAR that fish. I chopped it up, tossed it into the pot, and turned on the fire again. I hadn't had fish curry in about 20 years, and it was pretty durn good.

A tasty meal, plenty spicy, not too heavy. I am well satisfied. Think I'll go reload some .44 Special ammo.

SAN JACINTO DAY ANNIVERSARY

2008-04-21T14:20:00.001-05:00

Texas, 1836

The Alamo, under Travis and Bowie, had fallen. The defenders of Goliad had been massacred, after what their commander, Fannin, had thought was an honorable surrender.

The provisional government of Texas had met and declared independence from Mexico, after General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna had refuted the Constitution of 1824 and set himself up as dictator. The Texas forces under Sam Houston, were in full retreat. Houston desperately tried to consolidate his resources and train his men into a semblance of an army. Santa Anna was in hot pursuit, determined to destroy those dedicated to a free Texas. Most of these were of Anglo descent, but many were Tejanos, of Spanish and Mexican Indian stock, some of whom had been in the area since the 1500s.

Santa Anna considered the fate of Mexico and his own personal fortunes inextricably bound together. The dictator, called "Tyrant" and "The Bastard," by Mexican and Anglo alike, could ill afford to allow any showing of independence on the part of the Texians, fearing that if he granted any requests, he would lose his iron-fisted control. To this end, he had ordered the disarmament of the Texas settlers in the fall of 1835. This resulted in the unthinkable act of defiance by inhabitants of Gonzales: They refused to turn in a small, antique Spanish field piece held to impress hostile Indians. They were likewise determined to hold their powder, shot and small arms. The settlers took a bed sheet and black paint and made a banner: A cannon tube, a single, five-pointed star, and the words, "COME AND TAKE IT." It may have been the first use of the Lone Star symbol on a Texas flag, and under this crude device, these recalcitrant individuals successfully repelled a Mexican force sent to confiscate the munitions.

Gonzales Battle Flag

The largely symbolic victory at Gonzales was the prologue to armed conflict between the settlers in Texas and the Tyrant's forces. It presaged the Texians' truly significant expulsion of the Mexican garrison from San Antonio de Bexar in December. Santa Anna's reprisal took the form of the complete annihilation of the Texians defending the Alamo and San Antonio the following March.

Houston knew his enemy. He realized that he needed to capture Santa Anna and compel him to order Mexican forces out of Texas, because, in the long run, the larger, better disciplined armies would inevitably overcome the willing but unorganized Texians. Houston's awareness of the situation may have lacked strategic coherence, but at some point it became clear to him that tactically, he would have the upper hand if he could constrict the portion of the Mexican forces personally led by Santa Anna before they could join with other, stronger columns coming overland from Mexico.

To this end, Houston led his rag-tag army to the area bounded by the confluence of the Brazos and San Jacinto Rivers, and Buffalo Bayou. On 20 April 1836, both forces arrived upon the plain of San Jacinto. The low, marshy area became an island when Houston sent Deaf Smith and his scouts to destroy Vince's Bridge. Some say the wood was too green or too wet to burn properly. Others say Smith decided to chop down the bridge, to keep from alerting the nearby Mexican forces by the smoke. In any case, this robbed Santa Anna's forces of a valuable withdrawal route.

Houston had planned to allow his little army, probably numbering fewer than 800, but certainly well under one thousand, a period of rest and "organization," after the lengthy chase. The battle plans called for an attack on the 22nd, but sentiment was for immediate attack, and Houston determined to strike while morale and the blood lust were high. It mattered not that they were seriously outnumbered. The actual numbers of the enemy are in dispute, even today. Probably 1,500 Mexican troops. Possibly as many as 2,500 had arrived. But if they were as few as 800, these were organized, blooded, veteran troops. Few were recruits. Most had been blooded at Zacatecas and at Bexar and at dozens of battles in the internal strife of Mexico. Say what you will about the Tyrant or the government of Mexico, the typical veteran Mexican soldado was tough, a good fighter, and, by the standards of the day, pretty well equipped and organized. Even had the numbers been equal, the Texians would have faced a daunting task.

The Texian settlers, whatever their origins, seem to have been long on guitars, banjos and mandolins, and quite short on instruments of martial music. There was no bugle, no trumpet, and not a bagpipe in the crowd. There was a German with a fife, and a Negro freeman had a drum. Two other musicians came forward, probably with flutes or fifes. The four knew no military or patriotic music in common. Houston soon had them practicing a popular air of the day, an off-color little ditty called, "Come to the Bower."

San Jacinto Battle Flag

The small army had no field artillery for support, save for two small tubes donated by Ohioans, and which had been shipped through Galveston, lacking any sort of mounts. Makeshift carriages had been cobbled together while on the march, and these two little four-pounders, christened "The Twin Sisters," were ready for action that afternoon.

The history books tell the tale very eloquently: T. R. Fehrenbach, in his work, LONE STAR, gives the order of battle, and the commanders of the various units. There have been entire tomes written about The Battle (The capitalization is intentional) and the preceding events and the aftermath and the long term results. Read and learn of Lamar's sixty cavalry and Burleson's First Regiment and Hockley with the two little field pieces. And the rest . . . .

It was 4:00 p.m. In the bright sunlight, there was still some mist rising off the sluggish bayou. Houston, up on Saracen, made no memorable speech. Those nearby said he merely told them to hold their fire and make it count. He drew his sword and yelled, "Forward--Texas!”

The music screeched out, "Won't you come to the bow'r I have shaded for you?" The line surged forward and men bent their backs to moving the Twin Sisters over the moist, soft, soil. They went up the gentle rise and came into full view of the Mexican camp. There were shouts and a few musket shots by sentries, still hundreds of yards distant. At about this point, someone, probably Colonel Sidney Sherman, first screamed out, "Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!" Those around him took up the cry, and it swept the line, and seemed to overwhelm the gunfire.

The twenty-first of April, 1836. Four o'clock in the afternoon. The rag-tag, poorly outfitted, nearly unorganized Army of the new Republic of Texas, eight hundred strong, charged headlong into a fortified position held by twice their number of the finest military force in the Western Hemisphere - - - and whipped them to a fare-thee-well!

It is said the battle lasted eighteen minutes, but the slaughter went on for hours. Every Texian present had lost a relative or close friend or lodge brother in the past few months. Frustration and privation, fatigue and hunger, dedication and blood lust - - - All were vented for hours, until individuals began reckoning, "There's been enough killing for one day."

The butcher's bill:

Mexican dead 630

Wounded and prisoner 200

Unwounded prisoners 430

Texian killed or later died of wounds: 9

Wounded but surviving 25

The many prisoners taken, thankfully, included the Emperor-General, His Excellency Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. Brought before Sam Houston, who was grievously wounded in the leg, Santa Anna readily agreed to sign orders that all Mexican military forces immediately withdraw from combat and return to Mexico, pending a formal treaty. The following month, at the Treaty of Velasco, the war ended, and Mexico, at least temporarily, recognized the Republic of Texas.

And the remainder of the story? In February, 1846, Texas was annexed by the United States, bringing in parts of present-day Oklahoma, Kansas, New Mexico, Wyoming, and Colorado.

Texas after San Jacinto

Mexico, while disputing the border, had been grudgingly tolerant of the Texas Republic, but protested when the U. S. A. moved troops to the Rio Grande. The Mexican-American War ensued, a war indeed a story unto itself, and one which would not have been fought but for the Texian victory at San Jacinto. The Mexican War formally ended with the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, ratified in July, 1848. This resulted in the U. S. purchase of California, Nevada, Utah, parts of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Wyoming. In short, The Battle gave substance to the Manifest Destiny of the United States of America.

Territory ceded by Mexico to the USA

The Battle of San Jacinto has been described as one of the ten watershed battles of history, in long term results. Waterloo, Agincourt, Tours, Lepanto, Yorktown, Gettysburg, Stalingrad, Kursk-- Never to belittle the sacrifice of life or the suffering at any of these—— San Jacinto, with under nine hundred casualties total, ranks in significance with them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One must always wonder: At what point has a course of conduct inexorably begun? At what point might it have been stopped? Just ponder - -

If General Gage had decided NOT to seize the munitions at Lexington - - - -

If Santa Anna had NOT demanded that little gun at Gonzales - - - -

And, mainly, if either place had not been populated by FREE PEOPLE who cared more about their freedom than possibly getting hurt.

GOD BLESS TEXAS! GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! And may The Almighty forever bless and protect freedom-loving people everywhere.

--With due acknowledgment to T. R. Fehrenbach, Allen Damron, Tim Henderson, and others. - - - JPG

It Pays to Advertise

2008-04-04T23:26:00.003-05:00

Beloved bride and I had occasion to drive past the county jail Friday afternoon. Across the street is a small building, covered with signs indicating it is occupied by a bail bond agency and a lawyer's office.

The structure's exterior is covered with a variety of signs. The bail bondsman has one that advises,
FREE T-SHIRT WITH EVERY RELEASE
--------------- Get yours now! ------------

We had to wonder if this advertising was intended to catch the eye of someone planning to commit some crime, get arrested, and need to make bail. Hey, might as well to get a new shirt for your troubles, I s'pose.

Not to be outdone, the lawyer proclaimed,
*** Law Practice ***
---Immigration--
--- Criminal -----
---- Family -------

I had to ponder that one. Does he seek a clientele made up entirely of families who violate immigration law? My BB thinks that I might have a slightly warped perspective. Could she possibly be right?

28 – 31 MAR 2008

2008-03-31T16:18:00.004-05:00

My entries on this blog have been few and far between in recent times. There have been a variety of reasons, but thankfully, none concern any personal difficulties. For those who have checked by and seen nothing new, I sincerely apologize, and I am truly grateful for your interest. I SHALL endeavor to be better about posting in the future.

This past weekend was been quite active. Holly and I were greatly pleasured that our humble abode served as a meeting point for a few friends, all of whom are bloggers. We crammed a lot of activity, eating, and socializing into a relatively short time. Since most of this has already been mentioned by the others, let me refer you to the blog entries by Holly, Bayou Renaissance Man, Phlegmfatale, and LawDog.

It is axiomatic that every blogger has something to say, else he/she wouldn't start out doing it. Well, if ever there was ANY doubt of this, it would have been proven by our happy little band. I believe the five of us could visit, cuss and discuss stuff – almost ANY KIND of stuff-- for a solid week, and not short of input. It is stimulating to get another thinking person's take on practically ANY topic worthy of consideration. And this group was nothing if not thinkers – and talkers. Many would think it ridiculous discuss military history -- strategic, tactical, and individual – in combination with religion, philosophy, the social “sciences,” and precious metals, all linked together within five minutes. Well, we did it, with all of us participating and enjoying the interchange.

Following the activities of Saturday, Phlegmmy felt she had to go home, perhaps a bit late o' the clock, but all too early because fun was still being had. Peter, the 'Dog, Holly and I sacked out soon thereafter.

Holly and I overslept a bit Sunday morning and had to rush around, getting ready for travel to a family reunion a couple of hours south. Last year, Holly was roped into being an officer in the reunion organizing group. This is “above and beyond,” considering she married into the family only a few years ago. Anyhow, she had invested a lot of preparation and mental effort into the job, our having house guests aside. It all went quite well, and we were back home shortly before six p.m.

One sidebar point about the reunion: A seldom-seen cousin wanted some input from me concerning her purchase of a handgun. She had done a lot of research already, seeking out information about different defense guns, looking up others on the 'net, and had gone to a local range and tried out several different sidearms. She had narrowed it down to either of two Smith & Wessons,

a 9mm autoloader

and a model 642 revolver with Crimson Trace stocks.

I asked if she intended to carry it on her person or in her purse and she said she preferred the former. So, my advice was simply confirmation of what she'd already decided. She'll get the Airweight five-shooter and practice with it. I said I'd loan her a Glock or something, so she could do her CHL qualification with a semi-automatic handgun. I said to phone any time I could help her out. Looking around the eighty-odd relatives present – maybe 65 adults -- I knew of four pistols for certain, and probably another eight or ten in the parking lot. I am truly gratified when intelligent, solid and upright individuals make an objective decision NOT to be victims of violence.

Back at home, we found that Peter and LawDog had enjoyed the day with some local sightseeing and being adored by our four-legged dogs. The 'Dog had gone home a while before, but Peter stayed over and we again talked past midnight. He left around noon Monday. A good visit was had by all.

JPG

Personal testimony

2008-03-02T15:25:00.003-06:00

In extraordinary acts of selflessness, two women worthy of great respect have gotten out front with some mental health issues. I really believe they will be the mechanism that influences some people running on the ragged edge to go and seek help.

Crystal, who writes a very worthwhile and amusing blog not only had some issues and the good sense to find help. She also blogs and tells us about it, first here and then here.

Unfortunately, Crystal was subjected to some stupid and insensitive comments. It is great to see the outpouring of support for, though. MattG stepped up on his own blog and eloquently put the matter into perspective.

Hard on the heels of Matt's remarks, my own Beloved Bride wrote another excellent piece in support of Crystal. Hers was not in the abstract or academic sense. She has some first hand experience with the topic.

Now, I'll note that it takes a lot of concern and dedication for Crystal and H. to put their personal accounts out in public. It is wonderful how the readers have made sympathetic and supportive comments. Well, ALMOST all have been supportive.

In the spirit of conciliation and brotherhood, I'd like to extend my personal greetings to the main insensitive critic of Crystal's blog. I have my personal feelings and you have your own. {cue violins} There's room in this world for differences of opinion. I realize how easy it must be to hide behind the anonymity of the internet, using some cute name. And why SHOULD you expose yourself to the vitriol of those who blindly support our friends and others who've never done US any harm? No, I'd like to give you the opportunity to engage in sport with me the first time you're in North Texas. I'd be quite happy to take you out to a private shooting range and we can have our own head to head contest. You may bring your own pistols or I'd be happy to loan you mine.

And by way of benediction, Anonymous: Take with you our richly deserved accolades, and then go ye therefore hence and have intercourse with thineownself, not forgetting to share this activity with the noble steed upon which you arrived.