Category: Crime

Disaster

Boomershoot, Crime, The Gun Thing

Yesterday I went over to our (still-being-rebuilt) apartment.  Not having any room in our tiny hotel room, on Wednesday I’d taken all the Boomershoot stuff and stored it in our (locked) garage, to be loaded into the rental SUV for the trip up to Idaho on Monday (tomorrow).

On Friday night, the garage was burgled and all the guns and related stuff stolen.

Rifle #1:  CZ 557 Varmint (.308 Win)
Scope #1:  Vortex Viper HS-T

Rifle #2:  CZ 550 American (6.5x55mm)
Scope #2:  Meopta Optika6 Illuminated (4.5-30x50mm)

Revolver:  Ruger Single Six (.22LR/.22Mag)

Also, a double-rifle hard case and two range bags.

And, of course, about a thousand rounds of .308 and 6.5x55mm ammo, all helpfully loaded into ammo cans, and a few dozen rounds of .45, .22 and 9mm (in the range bags).  Amazingly, a pair of expensive Steiner binoculars were tossed aside (!).

Total value of the stolen goods:  just under $6,000.

All our brand new replacement furniture, and electronics (TV, computer etc.) and all my tools (!) were untouched.  They were after the guns.  (Thank gawd I’d already moved all my other guns over to Doc Russia’s place, or else I’d be in even more trouble.)

According to the Plano PD (yeah, I have a case # and everything), there were no fingerprints left, which points to a pro job.  There is a pretty substantial group of suspects — this was not a case of a couple guys walking past and deciding that this looked like a likely place to burgle — but I’ll leave that to the cops to figure out.  They have the list.

What this means:

1.)  I’ve had to cancel Boomershoot this year — no point in going, no guns to shoot, no ammo, nada.  I’ve already canceled the rental SUV and hotel accommodation.  So we’re all clear on this:  I am spitting angry, but most of all I am embarrassed because many of you kind folks sent me money, not only for the drawing but to help with the costs of associated purchases for the trip — several items of which have already been bought.  Aaargh.  Nevertheless, if you are one of those people who specified that the money was for expenses, email me and I will refund you your money.  (Almost all the paper records I have were being kept — where else? in one of the missing range bags — so I have no clue what the total amount is;  but I’ll trust in your honesty.)

2.)  When the insurance company reimburses me for the guns (less my $500 co-pay of course), I’ll replace the CZ 557 and scope, and hold the lottery for that rig then.  I don’t know how long it will take for them to do this, most likely a few months.  Please be patient with me while I speak to the insurance company over the next few days.

3.)  I have no idea whether the guns will ever be recovered.

Fuck.

Timeless

Anarchist thugs, BaconLettuceMayo, Education, Literature

A constant whine among stupid people — professors and students alike — is that Literature classes should no longer have to read Shakespeare because he’s “not relevant to today’s world” or some such nonsense.

Now I can understand why students whine about reading Shakespeare, because they’re ignorant and immature, and “that’s not English, dude” — IDK wht u sez LOL — as though if it’s not “modern” then it’s not worth learning.

I will also disregard the usual cant about Shakespeare being beyond the pale because he’s, like, old and a Dead White Male Patriarch to boot.

Over at Taki’s place, David Cole has written an absolute masterpiece on Aaron, the arch-villian in Titus Andronicus  (one of my favorite of all the Bard’s works, because if you think that Brian De Palma is the be-all and end-all of violent writing, Andronicus  has him beaten by a country mile).

What Cole proves (as though any proof were needed) is just how relevant Shakespeare is in today’s world.  And what Shakespeare proves is that when it comes to the human condition, there’s very little new under the sun.

Go there now and read it all.

And then read Titus Andronicus, for the full treatment of malevolence and violence.

The Pride Of Wisconsin

Bad News, Crime

…and I’m not talking about cheese, or the Green Bay Packers.  No, I’m talking about Ed Gein of Plainfield, who lived a life which fed horror-film screenwriters for decades.  I knew his story, of course, but I was reminded of it by a newspaper article about him:

As well as the body of Bernice Worden – decapitated, strung up and gutted “like a deer” – they discovered a hoard of macabre keepsakes, from bowls made from human skulls to a belt made from female nipples and a lampshade covered with a face.

A nipple belt?  Even among the buxom, corn-fed Wisconsin women of the area, that’s a lotta women you have to kill to get that amount of material.

After Gein, all other mass murderers and nutcases look like amateurs, and the movie types (like Psycho‘s Norman Bates and the guy in Silence of the Lambs ) are pale imitators.

Brrrr.

Fakes & Phonies

Crime, Fine Art

Lat night I watched an interesting movie on Netflix called Made You Look, about a string of art forgeries sold for unbelievable sums of money from the late 1980s till 2018.

Actually, I have only one quibble with the show, in that it should have been entitled Made You Look Foolish — because not only were art collectors taken in by the fakes, but art authenticators, catalog printers, auction houses and of course, art dealers (who are to the art business what agents and managers are to the music world — i.e. a bunch of venal rogues, thieves and manipulators).

Spoiler alert (although anyone with a brain could see this coming):  when works of art sell for bajillions of dollars, the incentive for forgery increases exponentially.  In the case above, all the forgeries were created by one man — some little old Chinese (quelle surprise ) artist living in Long Island NY — who had a real talent for painting in the style of most of the American abstract artists of the 20th century.  He handed them over to a guy who faked the paintings’ condition (so they’d look as though they were painted in the 1950s, say, instead of 1986).  Then the paintings were given to a shady art dealer with absolutely no history of art dealing (!!!!!) who then told a gullible art dealer in (where else?) Manhattan that the paintings came from an anonymous collector of unknown name and no history (!!!!) — and then the fun ensued, when the dealer purchased a painting by Jackson Pollock for, say, $950,000 (!!!!) who then turned around and sold it to some rich asshole for… $9.1 million (!!!!!!!!).

What astonished me is that this didn’t happen back in the 18th century, when nobody knew nothin’ about art authentication;  no, this happened during a time when a paint’s age (and even the age of the canvas) could be determined by chemical- or spectrographic analysis.  Even when this was done and the forgery exposed, nobody did anything, because there were so many reputations at stake:  those of the collectors, of the art dealers, of the art critics, and so on.  Nobody likes to look a fool, but untold hundreds of people were.

I’m going to make one statement here that was never mentioned in the movie.  Frankly, the abstract style of art is such that I’m amazed that there haven’t been millions of forgeries, all done in middle-school art classes.  Think I’m joking?  Take a look:

(Longtime Readers will know of my utter loathing for Pollock’s art, for all sorts of aesthetic reasons, but the others are no less awful.)

Never mind the sneers you get when you say that your 4-year-old granddaughter could paint a Rothko;  maybe she can, and maybe she can’t — but a 70-year-old Chinese artist of no particular artistic merit could, and did:  fooling all the above pretentious assholes into going into raptures about this kind of dreck, and paying lots of moolah for it.

By the way, I have no problem with people owning copies — even great copies — of masterpieces.  I happen to have a dozen or so scattered around my house myself.  Here are some, for example:  Monet’s Blue House At Zaandam :

…Winslow Homer’s A Wall, Nassau :

…and Childe Hassam’s Lower Fifth Avenue :

The big — giant — difference between me and those rich suckers is that I paid about $80 (eighty) each for my copies (including shipping), and I cheerfully admit that they’re not originals.  (They come from iCanvas.com, by the way, and they’re created by machines using acrylic paints which look so like the original oils that it makes little difference.)

They’re also Impressionist paintings (none of that abstract splashing and daubing for me, no thank you).

I have to tell you that even if I won a huge lottery, there is no way I would ever pay millions for an original, no matter how much I may love the artist.

Especially when the “original” may turn out to be a fake, painted by a little old Chinese guy in Long Island.