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Not Gonna Happen

Elections, Politics

Over at PJM, ol’ Roger thinks our presidential campaigns are too long (I agree) and wants to do something about it:

How about postponing the campaign until Thanksgiving and allowing the country and Congress to go about their real business? The British manage their campaigns in only 60 days. Maybe we could squeeze it down to, say, 180.

While he makes some excellent points about the folly of long election campaigns, Roger falls into the liberal trap of wishful thinking.  Whenever some asswipe Lefty (i.e. all of them) makes some stupid proposal, the common response from conservatives is twofold:

  • “How are you gonna pay for it?” — OR —
  • “How are you going to do that, exactly ?”

To whit:  “Free health care for everybody” gets question #1 in response;  and “We’re going to come around to your house and take away your guns!” gets question #2.

The problem with trying to limit the length of presidential (or any) electoral campaigns is that we have that pesky Constitution, in the form of the First Amendment.

If it’s (say) a week before Thanksgiving and someone says, “When I’m president, I will…”, telling someone that “You’re not allowed to say that yet” would result in you getting your pee-pee severely whacked by the courts, and deservedly so.

The Brits get away with their 60-day election campaigns by simply banning election speeches and so on before the start date.  Try doing that in the U.S. of A., and a shit-storm will ensue.  We’re a free people, and if Governor Sextoy Butt-Plug (D) of Michigan wants to announce in 2019 that she’s going to run for the presidency in 2031, she’s perfectly within her rights.

I’m irritated by  the perpetual campaigning thing myself, but at the same time, the First Amendment is more important than my irritation.  Some people are frightened by guns, but the Second Amendment is more important than their trepidation.  That’s how the whole thing works, even if it is inconvenient sometimes.

Olde Phartss

Funny Stuff

Here’s a fun game:  show your age in 5 words or so, as demonstrated here, e.g.:

  • I had a Blockbuster membership
  • AOL and Dial-up
  • VHS was still a thing

Please.  My KIDS remember those.

Here’s mine:  “Queuing to buy  Hard Day’s Night.”

 

Beat THAT, in Comments.  And no making up stuff, either.  “I remember Calvin Coolidge” won’t work.

Who’s Costing What

Gummint, Health

It is inevitable that whenever a service is limited, talk will turn towards issues like “who is more deserving of it?” or “should people pay more if they use the service more?”, and so on.  Insurance companies have a hold on this measurement in that, for example, young men pay more for auto insurance because they have more accidents and drive more recklessly than middle-aged women do.

Where this all starts falling apart is when it gets taken to its logical extreme:  should fat people pay more for airline tickets when their weight requires more fuel to power the plane off the runway?  Sure, say all the skinny people;  fuck you, say the chubbies.

And that’s for a pay service.  The argument becomes even sharper when it’s a free (to consumers) service such as, say, Britain’s National Health Service (NHS), which is going to become still more of an issue Over Here as the U.S. inches towards a “single-payer” (i.e. State-provided) healthcare system.

So who costs the healthcare service more:  fat people or smokers?  In her inimitable style, Brit journo Janet Street-Porter (who is skinny) scolds future BritPM Boris Johnson (who is chubby) for saying that fat people don’t cost the NHS as much as smokers.

Sorry, Boris but fat people are costing the NHS just as much as smokers ever did so why shouldn’t they face the same shame and taxes?
It’s official, eating yourself to an early death is a human right which must be protected.
Boris Johnson – who could be our next Prime Minister, a prospect which fills me with fear and loathing in equal measure- wants to review the levies on sugary food and drink because they ‘hurt the poor’. He calls them ‘sin taxes’.
This is shameless electioneering, stooping to a new low to grovel for votes.
What really hurts the poor is discovering your child needs every tooth filled and there are no dentists for hundreds of miles.
Or your teenager is too fat to play sport and is being bullied at school. Every extra kilo around a child’s waist is another year off their lives.
Giving people on low incomes the freedom of choice to buy unhealthy food is not a policy anyone who cares about humankind should be proud of. It is retrogressive and patronising.
Food laced with sugar and fat SHOULD be taxed, and that money ploughed back into the National Health service.

For starters, this whole “shaming” thing should be called what it really is:  bullying.  Shame  is what you should feel if you commit a sin or a crime (some overlap);  only scolds and control freaks (some overlap) want to ascribe the eating of a hamburger or a chocolate bar as sinful, and therefore worthy of taxing.

Hey, let’s not stop there.  If we’re talking about costs to a nationalized healthcare system, let’s not stop with smokers and chubbies;  what about car drivers, cyclists and motorcyclists?  I mean, we’ve all seen the accident reports and injury stats — why not tack a tax onto car, bicycle or motorcycle purchases to help cover those  costs to the healthcare system?  (Feel free to add your  suggestions as to ways to squeeze yet more tax dollars from citizens.  Indulge your inner politician.)

I’m making a joke about this, but make no mistake:  at some point this nonsense — especially when supported by media assholes like Street-Porter — starts becoming policy.  And we need to nip it in the bud, hard.

Let’s end this little discussion with a thought from Janet:

It’s the duty of responsible parents and schools to promote healthy eating, and the duty of supermarkets to promote real unprocessed food over junk.

Yeah… we know better than parents what’s good for their children, and (channeling Michelle Obama) schools shouldn’t serve meals that aren’t blessed by the Nutrition Police.  And supermarkets shouldn’t serve their customers’ needs and wants;  they should only serve foods that we say they should.  (Corollary:  and if our “suggested” foods turn out to be completely wrong — e.g. the food pyramid espoused by the FDA for decades — then that’s just tough titties.)

FOAD.

Depends On Your Definition

Drive Time

Fresh on the heels of their long-term review of the Alfa Romeo Giulia (relevance to follow), Car&Driver has published what they consider to be The 15 Most Beautiful Cars You Can Buy Today, i.e. 2019 models, or earlier if unchanged.  (Frankly, I opened the page wondering how they were going to come up with as many as fifteen, but never mind.)  In alphabetical order, they are:

Alfa Romeo Giulia —  No quibbles with that.  We already know how unreliable it is, but beautiful?  Si.

Aston Martin DBS Superleggera  —  Not much to argue with this one, either.  As C&D  admits, Aston knows how to make beautiful cars.  Although I’m not that fond of this one:  the grille is too big for my liking.  I actually prefer the DB11.

BMW i8 —  I have to agree with this entry.  I saw one in London for the first time, parked in the street in Mayfair (duh), and I actually stopped in my tracks to marvel at it.  (I know it’s an HO car, but we’re just looking at the skin, remember.)  And let’s be honest:  since the 850i, has BMW had any  models on a “most beautiful” list?

Bugatti Chiron —  This one, I think is pig-ugly.   Whoever picked the Chiron was seduced by the Bug’s performance, and let that pull it onto the list.

Infiniti Q60  —  Wait… a Japanese  car on a list of beautiful cars?  Even more surprising is that I agree.  I see them around here in Plano, and they always get a second glance.

Jaguar XJ —  As with Aston Martin, Jag makes lovely cars (with the notable exception of the foul Ford-inspired S-type of the early 2000s).

Kia Stinger  —  As C&D  says, if you didn’t know it was a Kia, you might vote for it too.

Lexus LC —  For Lexus (who are trying hard to equal Ford in the Most Boring Design stakes), the LC is a peach.  The fact that it can also out-drag a Kawasaki just makes it all the more memorable.

Mazda 3 —  I like these cars, even though the protruding nose thing (started by Mercedes) is a little over the top. Still, the Mazda 3 is probably the best-looking of all the hatchbacks (scant praise).

Mazda MX-5 Miata —  I prefer the earlier model shape (true of just about all my car preferences) which was flatter and more true to the British roadster type that the Miata was copying, but the new model isn’t too bad.  (I prefer the Fiat 124 version, but you all knew that.)

Mercedes-Benz S-class Coupe —  I dunno.  Mercs are more handsome than beautiful, but I have to admit that the new Coupe is quite sexy, especially when compared to their usual 4-door limos.

Porsche 911 (992 body)  —  Maybe I’m just prejudiced, but I just don’t see how any  Porsche can make a list like this, with the possible  exception of the Cayman.

Rolls-Royce Wraith —  No.  Just… no.  Rollers have always been stately, not beautiful cars.  And the latest incarnation of the Rolls looks like something from a 1990s-era Batman TV cartoon series.  Even the Wraith looks good only because they copied the Bentley shape (again).

 

Volkswagen Arteon —  Hmmmm.  As much as I liked the VW CC (their proposed “Audi-killer” that didn’t), I’m a little iffy about the Arteon…. actually, no.  The Arteon doesn’t even look as good as the new Toyota Camry coupe.

Volvo V90 —  I don’t know if I could call any Volvos beautiful, as such.  But I will grant that the V90 is quite striking… for a station-wagon.

Actually, the car most egregiously passed over by C&D  is the Bentley Continental, which is so  much more beautiful than almost all the above.

Also, some may wonder why there are no Ferraris on the list.  I’m not surprised:  the new Ferraris are hideous, by their own standards let alone empirically.  The Portofino wasn’t nicknamed “The Joker” by accident…

Noticeable by their omission on C&D’s list:  any American cars.  Feel free to nominate your 2019 Murkin choices thereof in Comments.  (Anything with “Cadillac” in its description will be ignored if not roundly mocked.)

Me, An Influencer? Right

The Gun Thing

I’m sometimes asked why I don’t try to “monetize” this website — i.e. earn good money from it — because many people consider me something known as an “influencer”.

I’ve always thought the word’s closest synonym was “product pimp”.

I supposed I have influenced people to some degree;  certainly, this email’s theme is by no means uncommon:

“Kim, before I started reading your blog, I thought I was doing okay, I mean with my guns.  I kept my dad’s old service revolver in the drawer next to my bed (which I hadn’t fired for over a decade, by the way).  I had an old Marlin .22 rifle for dealing with pests on my property, and a 12-gauge shotgun that Dad used to go bird-hunting with.  I doubt whether I had more than a couple boxes of ammo for each.
“Then I found your blog because of the Pussification  essay, and as I read more and more of your writing, something changed in the way I look at guns.
“Now I have about 15 handguns of various calibers,  six (SIX) .22 rifles ranging from a “sporterized” Ruger 10/22 all the way up to an Anschutz 54 (which I use for competitions — yes, I compete in NRA Smallbore now).
“Don’t ask me about centerfire rifles.  I started with a .30-30 lever gun, and now own several mil-surp Mausers (thanks to your continuous praise for them, my favorite is a Venezuelan in 7×57) as well as another four in various calibers.  I’m not much into shotguns, although I did buy a couple pumps which I keep around the house and garage, just in case.  You know what I mean.
“But that’s not the worst, even though my wife of thirty years has put her foot down and refuses to let me put another safe in the spare bedroom which is now where I clean and fiddle with the guns.  The worst is that I’m running out of space to store the ammo.  Every year on National Ammo Day I buy about ten thousand rounds of various sizes, and that’s not counting .22 ammo which I buy on pretty much a monthly basis, a few thousand at a time.  I don’t know why because I think I have close to 100,000 rounds of .22 stored up, but I shoot so damn much of it, I’m scared of running out.
“My life has become much more enjoyable, but I am now considerably poorer.  And it’s all your fault.”

If that’s what being an influencer means, then I guess I am one of those.  What gets in my way is that I have always steadfastly refused to endorse any specific product, simply because I don’t want to paint myself into a corner.  What if I’m (say) a Savage endorser, and I hate one of their new products?  I should point out that I’ve been approached on several occasions by various manufacturers, but as soon as I lay down my conditions, the offers are withdrawn.  (I told one guy that I couldn’t understand why he was interested in me when practically every writer in the gun mags was sucking his dick already.)

So I guess I’ll never become one of these product pimps, either by choice or because, as far as I can tell, all my Loyal Readers have personal arsenals and ammo supplies which exceed that of the writer above and they don’t really need much “influencing” at all.  The market for my influencing, in other words, is almost non-existent.

There is one group where I have been a major influencer, but I’m saddened to have been one.

Over the past sixteen or so years I have probably taught close to two hundred women to shoot, and I’m sorry to say that at least a third have been women who were being victimized by vengeful ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands, and who felt the need to protect themselves by owning a gun to fend off these pricks.  I taught them to shoot, and helped them pick the gun which suited them the most, and in a couple of cases actually lent them one of my own guns if they couldn’t afford one right way.  One girl, who was 19 at the time and was in danger from some asshole stalker, kept my loaner gun for three years  until she was finished college and got her first job.  Then she bought the gun from me out of her first paycheck.  (In case you’re interested, it was a Ruger SP101 .357 Magnum and I charged her a hundred bucks for it.  It’s not like she became a thoracic surgeon or something.)  She was/is an outstanding shot, and she still writes to me on occasion, sending me pics of her latest targets.  I pity the fool.  

Sorry, I veered off the topic there for a moment.  Back the the influencer thing.

I admit that I’d like to make money off this website — I mean serious money — but it seems that most of these other product pimps do their thing on FaecesBook, Twatter or InstaCrap, and I refuse to be part of those platforms [200 reasons omitted].

Whatever.  As with so many things, the price of entry to this game isn’t worth the possible reward, so I’ll never become one of these people.  I can’t say it bothers me that much.

Oh, and Samuel, if you read this post, I took the liberty of cleaning up your grammar and taking out the insults.  And let me know how that new P938 works, willya?

Not The Best Of Times

Beauty, Drive Time

Foul Reader Paul G. sent me these links to the Concours d’Elegance Suisse (here for the pre-WWII models and here for post-war) which show some magnificent cars — and a couple of howlers.  Take this 1981 Daimler V12 Double Six “shooting brake” (a.k.a. station wagon  to us Murkins):

Ooooooglay.

On a tangential thought:  I seem to be one of the few people of my vintage who actually enjoyed the 1980s.  I liked the music, I liked the clothing, and I sure as hell enjoyed the lifestyle.  (Remember, for me the 1980s straddled two continents:  South Africa pre-1986, and the U.S. from 1987 onwards.)

The cars were… well, patchy.  On the one hand, you had the pretty ones:

Mercedes 380SL

Ferrari 288 GTO

Porsche 959

And then we had the wonderful Toyota MR2 (“Mister 2”)

…which unfortunately led other Japanese car makers to go all wedgey, e.g.:

Subaru XT

Acura Integra

Come to think of it, even the 288 was a wedge, but an Italian  wedge (which makes all the difference).

Of course, there were also the 80’s cars which were horrible and disgusting:

Plymouth Reliant

Ford Thunderbird

…and we won’t even talk about the Cadillac Cimarron

Let’s go back to the goodies.  First, the boxy-boxy look:

Audi Quattro

BMW E30 M3

Lancia Delta Integrale

Maserati Biturbo — the very definition of

Saab 900 Turbo

Volvo 740/760 Turbo (& wagon  — you can’t use the term “shooting brake” for a Swedish  car, it’s illegal))

Golf GTI

Note that many of the above were quite decent performers — the BMW E30 is one of the greatest racing cars ever made, the Audi Quattro dominated rallying for years, and even the Volvo 760 Turbo had quite a bit of poke — but they’re all still pig-ugly as far as I’m concerned.   Speaking of “ugly performance cars”, though, there were the Murkins:

Ford Mustang GT 5.0

Buick Grand National GNX

Both the above were quite hideous to look at, but at least they were fast.  As were a couple of European entrants:

Merkur XR4i (a.k.a. Ford Sierra GT)

Ford RS200

…which was underpowered — for rallying — but which still managed a 0-60mph time of 3.8 seconds, which compares well to the supercars of today.

Speaking of supercars, the 1980s did produce a couple of sublime models like the Ferrari F40

and the Lamborghini Countach

There were others (the above is by no means a comprehensive list);  but these were the ones that caught my eye at the time.  To my mind, though, no car captures the spirit of the 1980s quite like Toyota’s MR 2.

Go ahead and talk about your  favorites, in Comments.