From The Man Known As Sundance:
“Unfortunately, most financial pundits are prone to talking down the strength of the U.S. economy. It’s maddening. They spend all day mining for coal nuggets while currently surrounded by diamonds.”
That’s because they want to be able to say “I TOLD you so!” when the economy slows (as it must, eventually). Or because they’re NeverTrumpers, Anti-Reaganites or socialists.
But read the whole article. It’s brilliant.
With all this matrimonial nonsense, I forgot to post an update on an earlier Bad Thing.
Loyal Readers will recall that a few weeks back, Doc Russia’s Doom Wagon was stolen from outside the hospital where he was working.
Among the contents: a semi-automatic rifle, a Glock and his emergency medical bag.
Less than a week later, the Doom Wagon was found undamaged (other than the window broken to gain access). Missing was the medical kit, the Glock and the jerrycans of gas attached to the rear door. The rifle had been undiscovered, and was still in its hidden compartment.
Four days later the Glock was recovered, still unfired, at a crime scene.
Of course, the medic bag was gone (Doc is still hoping the thieves shot up the Lidocaine in their enclosed syringes — it’s mortally toxic when thus administered).
Nevertheless, the Wagon has been completely fixed up and is now in its original condition other than with the addition of various anti-theft devices (which I may not describe for legal reasons).
A round of applause for the Dallas P.D. is called for.
It’s about time somebody took a stand — and it happened in Britishland, too:
Woman who failed frontline infantry fitness test given a ‘pass’ by the Army until furious male soldiers who HAD completed course staged rebellion
Corporal Daisy Dougherty was hoping to become one of the Army’s first female infantry instructors following the landmark decision last year to let women join combat units and Special Forces.
The first stage in the selection process required her to prove her fitness by completing an eight-mile march in under two hours over arduous terrain while carrying a heavy pack and a rifle.
Despite being a qualified personal fitness trainer and a member of the Army’s athletics squad, the 29-year-old took too long to finish the challenge. Under course rules, she should have been immediately ejected and sent back to her unit.
But Cpl Dougherty – the only woman on the course – and 14 others who also failed were told they could carry on, sparking a furious backlash among the 75 soldiers who passed the test.
The soldiers rounded on commanders at the Infantry Battle School in Brecon, Mid-Wales, accusing them of lowering standards to suit women. When top brass refused to back down, troops contacted The Mail on Sunday to expose what they claimed was ‘positive discrimination’.
Fearing a public backlash if they allowed her result to stand, commanders backed down and asked Cpl Dougherty and the other soldiers who failed the march to leave.
Read the whole article, because there’s some equally-good news about the Paras towards the end of it. (Ex-Para Mr. Free Market, for one, is chortling into his morning gin even as we speak.)
I repeat, for the umpteenth time: women have no place in combat units. Period, end of statement, end of story.
…a warm and wonderful New Year.
And may all the new guns you buy in 2019 shoot straight and work properly.
You are going to buy some new guns in 2019, aren’t you? It’s one way to make your New Year a happy one.
And speaking of happy:
Cheers, y’all. That’s for “Dry January”… and after that, it’s this for “Veganuary”:
Might as well start the year off the way I plan to do for the rest of it: pissing off the people who want me to stop enjoying myself.
Escaped convict tries to break into a house (to steal food, cash, car keys etc. and/or to improve his prison love life with a little rapery), whereupon he learns, too late, that the lone housewife isn’t going to let him do any of that:
Bruce McLaughlin Jr., 30, was shot in the head by the woman after he kicked in her back door on Tuesday, according to Pickens County authorities.
After he entered the home, McLaughlin grabbed a knife sharpening tool from the kitchen and headed toward the woman’s bedroom around 3 a.m.
Of course, I don’t know whether the choirboy was going to do all that stuff, and now nobody will — which unsolved mystery is just fine by me. (I do wish the report would give us the good info: gun, chambering, type of cartridge etc. but let me not quibble over details.)
My favorite part of the story, however, is this:
Sheriff Rick Clark said the woman was home alone and had undergone concealed weapons training at some point prior to the incident.
“This was a big guy. If she hadn’t had a weapon there’s no telling what would have happened,” the sheriff said. “I gave her a big hug. I told her how proud I was of her.”
Clark said the incident was “a shining example” of why owning and knowing how to properly use a gun is important.
Can I hear a round of applause for both the Lady Shooter (HEAD SHOT!) and Sheriff Clark?
I read this story with both amazement and sympathy:
Kira Laconetti, 19, a self-taught musician, began experiencing difficulty when singing or listening to music, having two-minute ‘glitches’ and stuttering her words.
An MRI scan on the performer from Lynden, Washington, revealed a marble-sized mass in the right temporal lobe of her brain. The benign tumour was confirmed to be triggering a rare disorder called musicogenic epilepsy.
The condition, which is estimated to affect one in ten million people, according to Epilepsy Society, triggers seizures caused by certain types of music or frequencies of pitch for which the person’s brain has a low tolerance for. It is unclear what specific notes or music prompted Miss Laconetti’s seizures.
I should disclose at this point that I too suffer from musicogenic epilepsy. In my case, it’s brought on not by any individual notes but by certain types of music, notably rap music, bebop jazz and the voice of Taylor Swift.
And I don’t suffer seizures either, just spasms of Tourette’s Syndrome.
Fortunately, I don’t need surgery because the remedy is simple: a little Harry Nilsson, Peter Skellern or even something by the Beatles, and I’m right as rain.
Feel free to share the types of music which trigger your episodes of musicogenic epilepsy, in Comments.