Mausers

An auction with many "Mausers" for sale. There are many other firearms offered at this auction. I used the search function to show JUST the Mausers.

The "Mauser" rifle is a fine, military rifle with countless models. In very rough terms, any models after 1895 are anywhere from "pretty good" to "very good" as tough, knock-around rifles.

At one time, there was a large cottage industry converting WWII "bring-backs" to sporting rifles. They were often rechambered to cartridges that were in demand.

Nowdays, it is much less expensive to buy an entry-level Savage or Mossberg rifle that is chambered in a commercially available cartridge and already tapped for a scope mount. The commercial rifle will also have a "better" trigger.

That said, those old war-horses can sometimes be had at a discount, especially if they are chambered in something unusual.

You can click on the image to embiggen it

For example, at the time of this writing there is a Mauser model of 1898 with a 16.5" barrel that is chambered in a "wildcat" called 35-06. Normally, I would shy away from "wildcat" chamberings but the 35-06 is now a commercially available and is known as the .35 Whelen. This rifle, which would be a spiffy brush rifle is currently going for $25.

That is a screaming-deal.

For the newbies, I would stay away from the 1891 Mauser, the "parts gun" and the Spandau .43 (unless you collect black powder cartridge rifles). Any 8mm rifles are good-enough (except the "parts gun") to shoot space-aliens, stray water-buffalo and run-away reindeer about to mow down granny.

Some of the bores might be pretty rough, but if you are shooting with the iron sights and the original trigger, even barrels that look like ten miles of rough road will often shoot good-enough, that is, not much worse that a shiny barrel.

Dragon-asp

Unless something unexpected happens, there will not be an East of Paris segment dropping tomorrow morning.

Life happened.

Physical conditioning

I hurt. Nothing debilitating, but my muscles hurt. My joints hurt. I am tired. God willing, it will be temporary.

The last time I ran on the treadmill I was tearing it up. Pride goeth before fall.

Twenty minutes into the session, I noticed that I had not dialed in elevation. It has been my practice to run with a 1% grade (one foot of elevation with every 100 feet of horizontal, or at 6.0mph, one foot of elevation every 9 seconds). In theory, it is to account for things like wind-resistance, sandy surfaces that absorb energy and so on. In practice, it means that when I actually run on real ground, I might actually out-perform expectations, which is a huge emotional boost.

I decided to compensate for the "easy" first 1/3 by adding 10 seconds to my running period and subtracting 10 seconds from my recovery. So I added the 1% grade and did that for the remaining 40 minutes.

Maybe not my brightest move.

New livestock

Two meat-breed rabbit (does) were added to the ERJ menagerie. The plan is to "gift" them to the Handsome Hombre/Southern Belle household as pets. If things go into the septic tank, they will have the foundation stock to turn forage into meat.

These young does are not particularly socialized, but the fellow selling them to me said that domestic rabbits are social animals and if a human always brings something edible...even if it is a single dandelion leaf, they will be very accepting of humans.

Another reason to select "meat rabbits" is because they aren't pets. That means that they come from a gene pool where the breeding stock was ruthlessly culled for any congenital issues. Consequently, they should be relatively trouble-free. In the livestock biz, they are very likely to be "easy keepers".

Scion wood

My plan is to start cutting scion tomorrow. My high-runners will be Liberty apple, Harrow Sweet and Korean Giant pears. They are sort of like the girl next door. If you can't decide which high-maintenance bombshell to take out (or you cannot decide what kind of aggravation you can tolerate) on Friday night, then that sweet, freckle-faced girl next door is mighty attractive.

Auto-immune diseases

EBL mentioned Celiac Disease in the comments of an earlier post.

Celiac is usually considered an auto-immune disease (or syndrome).

As a group, auto-immune diseases exhibit one of the very largest gender disparities of all "groups" of diseases. That is, of course, outside of cervical cancer and prostate cancer.

Some auto-immune diseases impact women SEVEN times more than men. The average for auto-immune diseases is probably about FOUR times more likely. Not only do auto-immune diseases hammer women more frequently, they tend to manifest much earlier in life for women and degrade their quality-of-life for longer periods than they do for men.

"Celiac/gluten intolerance" is weird because some people diagnosed with "Celiac" can eat wheat products made from wheat grown in Italy.

The knee-jerk assumption is that US and Canadian grown wheat MUST be Genetically Modified (Franken-food). To the best of my knowledge, no genetically engineered wheat is cleared for food in the United States or Canada. Unlike corn and soybeans, controlling the pollination in populations of wheat is difficult.

A more likely culprit is that some regions of the US that grow wheat are more humid than in Italy. Also, we tend to fertilize more heavily and have denser stands which dry-down more slowly than in Italy. That means US grown wheat has more mold and fungi issues AND we are more likely to spray wheat with fungicides.

If we were REALLY concerned about "women's health", then more resources would be directed at Celiac, Lupus, Fibromyalgia, IBS, MS, RA, Psoriasis and Connective Tissue Diseases. It is my perception that far more resources have been directed toward HIV/AIDS and reproductive issues than addressing auto-immune issues.

Evangelism

A friend recently reached out and shared that he was feeling "pressured" to knock on doors and "push" Christianity by his church.

He attends a small, Bible-based church and "pushing" is contrary to how he is wired.

I suggested that he read 1 Corinthians Chapter 12 and Romans Chapter 12.

We have different gifts. Some of us are extroverts and are energized by "selling".

Some of us are planners.

Some of us don't feel called to touch the lives of stadiums filled with people. Some of us don't "friend" wide, but we "friend" deeply.

Some of us "sell" Christianity by being supremely at ease and comfortable within our skin. People look at those Christians and instinctively know "I want what she has".

I think Paul was trying to tell us in Corinthians and Romans that there is not one-right-way to follow Christ. It is almost like God anticipated that this conflict would come up.

Kentucky Rifles at the Battle of Saratoga

Painting of British General John Burgoyne circa 1766 showing "dress" of a British General

General Morgan called on Timothy Murphy at the Battle of Saratoga (October 7) and said, "That gallant officer is General Fraser. I admire him, but it is necessary that he should die, do your duty." Murphy scaled a nearby tree, (sometime after 2:30 in the afternoon) took careful aim with his Kentucky Rifle at the extreme distance of 300 yards, and fired three times. The first shot was a close miss, the second grazed the general's horse, and with the third, Fraser tumbled from his horse, shot through the stomach. General Fraser died that night.

...according to Luzader a frequently told story claiming it to be the work of Timothy Murphy, one of Morgan's men, could be a 19th-century fabrication.

It seems odd that this story includes no details about the rifle (when it was made, who the rifle-maker was, the caliber or amount of powder the shooter used) that made this near-miraculous shot because the rifle was as much of a hero as the shooter.

"Kentucky Rifles" (the vast majority of which were made in Pennsylvania) were a quantum leap in evolution from the rifles that were used on the European Continent where there were wild boars, distances were short, and labor (to carry heavy gear) was abundant.

Given the expense and difficulty in obtaining lead and quality gun-powder, the rifle-makers kept decreasing the diameter of the bore to conserve those supplies. To maintain effectiveness against deer-sized animals (which included humans, wolves and most black bears) the length of the barrel was increased to squeeze every last foot-per-second out of the powder charge.

Given the corrosive residue left by black powder, the (sometimes) casual cleaning and the primitive chemistry of the "grease" used to protect against corrosion, the corroded barrel of the rifle was "saved" by boring out to a larger diameter and re-rifling it. So a rifle might start out its life as a 0.32 inches in diameter (8mm) which was marginal for deer but optimum for treed raccoons and possum and turkeys. Then it might be bored out to 0.36". And then 0.40" and so on.

As a frame-of-reference, 0.32" rifle might "eat" 45 grain lead balls and 30 grains of black powder vs a 0.50" rifle which would use 180 grain lead balls and 80 grains of black powder. It is worth noting that there were far more raccoons and squirrels in the "wild" than there were white-tail deer. There were also fewer regulations that prohibited the us of dogs to find your dead deer afterwards.

One problem with lighter weight, round-balls is that they lose velocity quickly and have rainbow-like trajectories at longer ranges.

For example, in the story at the start of this post, a 64 grain 0.35" round-ball with a muzzle velocity of 1900fps (which is scooting right along for a black powder load) would have dropped to 470fps at 300 yards. Additionally, the bullet is dropping 10" with every 15 feet of forward travel which has implications for moving targets AND range estimation. Every change of 1 mile-per-hour in the speed of the cross-wind (think gusts in mid-afternoon, here) results in 13" change in the point-of-impact.

A 128 grain 0.44 round-ball fares slightly better with a velocity at 300 yards of 565 fps and with 10" of drop every 20 feet change in range. Even more worrisome is that even a 1 mile-per-hour change in the speed of the crosswind would change the point-of-impact by 10".

It is possible that the incident happened exactly the way it was written, but many factors would have to be exactly right for a 0.35" round-ball at 470 fps to penetrate through a wool blouse (and possibly belt or overcoat), skin and thence deeply enough to cause death in 12 hours. The chances of a 0.44" ball at 565 fps seems more likely (although still far from a sure-thing).

All things considered, this would still be a challenging shot at 200 yards but it would be significantly easier to accept the terminal effects and the chances of a "hit" at that kind of range.

And very few stories become less impressive with each telling.

And you thought pineapple on pizza was a travesty

I don't "get" the attraction of cauliflower. I suspect that some people are incapable of smelling certain chemicals in it, much like some people cannot smell the effect of asparagus on the smell of urine.

The first time I was offered a bowl of cauliflower soup (the hostess's pride-and-joy) I may have made a comment about dirty sweat-socks. I was younger and stupider back then.

Anecdotally, the sulfur compounds in all of the cabbage-family as well as the oligosaccharides can cause epic flatulence with extreme "fragrance" as well as very, very loose stools when consumed in large quantities. Cauliflower might be a high FODMAP food which is a train-wreck for people with Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Cauliflower pizza is a hard-pass for me. Thanks but no thanks.

Invest in what is durable

 

 

One minute run-time

How people spend their free time and how it has changed over the course of our life-times.

One of the markers between a wealthy person and one who isn't wealthy is that the wealthy person is more likely to invest his money in items that are DURABLE. For example, they are more likely to invest in new skills than go on a cruise.

Many of the "friends" make on the internet are fleeting. Some people brag about how many people they "unfriend" as a way to seek status and communicate how "picky" they are.

When my parents were old, +95% of the contacts (outside of paid caregivers) were family and the other 5% were from the church.

A little East of Paris: Theater

Gwain thanked Otis for “keeping an eye on Jana”. Otis mumbled something and went wondering off.

“Did he tell you about his Ph.D. thesis?” Gwain asked Jana.

“Only that he was in Israel for a time” Jana responded.

“It is fascinating work. He is translating the work of Mendel Nun into English and you cannot imagine the number of calls Violet gets asking when Otis can visit their campus and ‘defend’ his work” Gwain said.

“He speaks and reads Hebrew?” Jana asked, a bit surprised.

“You bet. Maybe you didn’t know this, but he is from New York City and majored in Hebrew at The City University of New York. He got 4.0s against some very stiff competition.”

“I bet” Jana said.

Seeing Gwain, various faculty members started drifting over to check-out the newest member of the staff. The rumor mill had been churning and due to recent events he was quite the novelty. Predictably, more than three-quarters of the faculty members were women and they immediately gravitated to Jana. Gwain was taciturn by nature while Jana was quite starved for intellectually stimulating, adult conversation.

The conversation turned, as it always did, to the quality of the incoming students (depressingly low), the impact of technology (reducing the status of professional writers), the job market (getting worse) and the dumbing down of the mass-market (“Classes on Graphic Novels; REALLY?”)

Gwain was old enough to remember when the “horrible” technology was electric typewriters and the "dumbing down of mass-market" was movie scripts.

It took Gwain a few heartbeats to recognize the grizzled, older man who was deftly working his way closer. It was Dean Fuchs!

“Professor McCampbell” Dean Fuchs said, directing his words toward Jana. “I wonder if you can spare your husband. We have need of his special talents on the other side of the barn.”

“Well, that is up to him” Jana said.

“I am going to work on that next” Dean Fuchs said. “But I didn’t want to steal him away if you had need of him.”

“I think I can manage” Jana said with joyful lilt, looking at her audience like a queen holding court.

Turning toward Gwain, Dean Fuchs said “It is my understanding that you have a lot of experience in theatrical productions and that you are a bit of a Civil War buff.”

Once again, Gwain marveled at amount of attention “upper” management paid to the minutia of the people at the working level. When he had been a grad student, he had NO idea of how much time the department heads and deans spent discussing the relative strengths and weaknesses of various students.

On the the other hand, he had published at least one paper a year, even if it was as a minor co-author. And a couple of them had been about the Civil War. It was all a matter of public record and easy enough to retrieve if it was of any interest to somebody.

“I am hardly an expert but I am more than willing to help in any way that I can” Gwain said. How could he say anything else? Jana didn’t need him and it was The DEAN who was asking for “help”.

“Come with me” the Dean commanded him.

Together they walked across the lawn and past the smoker and the tables with all of the food.

Rounding the corner of one of the sheet-metal buildings (which Gwain later learned was called a “Pole barn”) Gwain saw a raised area.

Dr von Tersch was directing a motley crew to keep filling empty milk jugs with water.

“So, what we have here is a simulation of naval battle where a boarding party takes over a ship. If you want, you can think of it as a ship that was running arms through a naval blockade and is being boarded by force from a Naval vessel” the Dean said.

“The first members of the boarding force takes over the wheel-house and a sailor, the actor, crosses from his vessel to this one…” the Dean said, pointing to a rope tied to a truss on the pole barn above the loading dock“...and he lands on the poop-deck overlooking the wheelhouse. From that elevated position he defends the sailor in the wheel-house who is turning into the ship into the wind where it will luff and then be boarded en masse.”

“With me so far?” the Dean asked.

“I guess so…” Gwain said, a bit uncertain where this was all going.

Looking at the trucking bay below the loading dock, Gwain could see milk jugs filled with water and hockey pucks (he later learned that they were called “clay pigeons) that were painted different colors. Crude representations of swords and spears were laid out on the sand and lines ran back to pulleys and thence “back stage”. A rectangle was outlined with lumber and Gwain assumed that was the "wheel-house".

The Dean handed Gwain a script. “We need to make a few dry-runs before we do this for-real. Do you mind reading through the script? I will give you a tap on your shoulder when it is time for you to read the next line.”

It was a bit overwhelming. Gwain looked around and didn’t see any place for an audience but, hey, it was Texas. Maybe they did things differently here.

“OK, we are ready for our first rehearsal” the Dean said. “Let her rip!”

Gwain looked down at his “script” and barked out in his best Shakespearian, stage voice “ORANGE-TWO!”

Looking out at the stage, Gwain saw a spear and a sword rise up next to the milk jugs marked with the orange hockey pucks.

The Dean tapped him on the shoulder after three seconds.

Gwain barked out “GREEN-ONE!”

A short sword popped up next to a milk jug marked with a green hockey puck.

They ran through various scripts three times.

“OK” Dr von Tersch said. “Time to go ‘HOT’.

“Let me remind you, the gun must ALWAYS be pointed in a safe direction. If anybody sees that being violated you are supposed to yell "MUZZLE!".

"Nobody who has had an alcoholic drink today is allowed to touch the firearm."

"Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to shoot."

"When you run the gun dry, put it in the PVC rack and switch to the pike which will be on the left side of the poop-deck. Misses with the gun will be penalized ten seconds. Engaging an opponent with a sword before an opponent with a pike will be penalized by five seconds. Players over the age of forty will not have to swing onto the poop-deck. Any questions?”

Gwain mind echoed “GUN!?!?!?”

Looking over at the rope swing, Gwain saw Otis standing on a short platform. He was wearing a Civil War, full-flap holster on a belt and was holding the rope and waiting for the starting bell.

Then Gwain heard von Tersch on his phone saying "OK, Debbie. Let the guests know that it is going to be noisy for a while.'

A Brain-teaser

 

Can you think of a way to move ONE wooden match to represent a number that is much, MUCH larger than the one shown?

Answer below the fold

Maddow is having her Khrushchev moment

 

You don't spit into the wind

You don't tug the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger

and you NEVER try to publicly embarrass your boss.  (Apologies to Jim Croce)

Maddow's bosses will see this as a challenge that they cannot afford to lose.

My expectation is that she will be severed from MSNBC within the week due to a "public embarrassment" clause buried on page 47 of her contract.

The Khrushchev joke goes:

One day, a man ran through Red Square in Moscow, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Khrushchev is a fool!" 

He was subsequently arrested for revealing state secrets.

 

Wild boars, "Bring enough Gun"

According to people who live in, and hunt, areas where feral hogs abound, mature boars are endowed with a gristle (cartilage) shield or plate that protects their lower chest.

Another consideration is that the heart-lung area of a hog is very small relative to the animals silhouette. These are not animals that run for miles-and-miles across the prairies. Even if you THINK you got a good hit and used ammo with good penetration, the bullet's path through the body is likely to miss organs that ensure a quick kill or break-bones that will collapse the animal. That can be mildly concerning if the animal is chewing on you or a loved one.

You not only need to bring "enough gun", it needs to "bring enough ammo" to ensure that at least one of the holes you poke in the animal hits the important body-parts.

While the plate is not exactly bulletPROOF, it will stop bullets that are "soft" and highly-expansive before they reach the boar's vitals. Those are exactly the kinds of bullets that are touted as being great man-stoppers. That rules out most pistol hollowpoints (especially the lighter-weight, higher-velocity offerings) and expanding "varmint" bullets in small calibers.

The plate will also stop bullets that don't start out with enough momentum (yes, I wrote momentum, not energy). Examples include .380 ACP and smaller ACP rounds, .38 Special out of short barrels.

These comments only apply to mature boars and does not apply to head-shots. However, in the passion of the moment, in the dark-of-night, one might not be cool enough or have enough time or the "vision" to pick head-shots.

One viable option for those who carry a 9mm (which excels at the "bring enough ammo) is to alternate non-expanding 147grain "Flat-nose" or "Truncated Cone" full-metal-jacket with 147 grain hollow-point bullets. 

Buffalo Bore, Federal American Eagle are viable options for the non-expanding, flat-nose bullets. Like all things on the Internet, use your own brain and weigh your options carefully.

Tuesday "Art"

 

Mixed media, i.e. a photo with additional details "Photoshopped" in.

For historical reasons, today's featured artist is Hunter Biden, born 1970 in Delaware and still alive.

Many of his "paintings" are mixed-media, specifically photographs with other images or textures "photoshopped" into them.

Grab-bag

Two of my children are either in a warm western state or will be flying in that direction in the next 24 hours. I wish them safe travels and productive, renewing time away from their every-day grind.

Hogs

As incredible as it seems, wild hogs are menacing Saskatchewan and some biologists, in all seriousness, suggested importing Siberian Tigers as a method of suppressing their population. The winters of Saskatchewan being on-par with the winters of eastern-Siberia but with less snow depth. Can you imagine Saskatchewan (and North Dakota and Montana and Minnesota) having populations of Siberian Tigers? 

Figure-six traps are one of the mainstays of harvesting feral hogs. The smart money jimmies the trap-door open and feeds the hogs within the trap for a few weeks before activating the trap part of the trap-door. You will rarely catch the smartest, oldest hogs but you will catch the best-eating ones. You are well advised to thoroughly cook the meat!

A decent video link. 

Exercise

I am still working-the-plan: Alternating days on the treadmill and walking 40 minutes with the beautiful Mrs ERJ. Dead-lifting once every three days.

Thaw

We got up to at least 45F today. The snow is disappearing rapidly.

I was able to pry my "transfer cage" out of the ice. It is a dog-crate. God willing, I will pick up a couple of doe rabbits that are California White X New Zealand Blacks and I have need of the transfer cage. While exotic-looking breeds of any species might be "cute", animals that most closely resemble the conformation of their wild progenitors tend to be most resilient in the face of environmental stresses. 

For example, dogs with smashed-in noses (pugs, bulldogs, Boston terriers) have breathing issues, issues with rejecting heat and sometimes issues with natural (non-Csection) births while dogs that more closely resemble Coyotes or Wolves don't.

Breeds of rabbits that are considered "meat rabbits" are not selected for arbitrary, cosmetic traits. Rather, they are selected to be "easy keepers" and to be thrifty in terms of growth/feed.

For the Grammar Nazi

Is a dead Stink Bug most properly referred to as a Stunk Bug?

The wheel turns

What an odd coincidence, a new Administration is sworn in and the first thing they do is that they start poking around, following-the-money.

A month later, (at least) one of the major news networks starts axing staff and payroll as revenue imploded.

Let me suggest that we "zoom out" and look at mass-media in the 1970s, which was before there was any competition from on-line sources.

In the 1970s hosts like Merv Griffin and Art Linkletter invited guests onto his show and he let them do most of the heavy-lifting. He asked questions and then let them sell themselves.

In 2024 the same kind of show has a "panel" of four or five or six "stars" and a supporting cast of affiliate "contributors". They all have their own dressing rooms and make-up artists. They all have their own "writers" pre-digesting the news into factiodal sound-bites. The salaries, not including benefits, for just the talking-heads on The View was almost $19 million in 2022. Only time will tell if this is a sustainable business model in the absence of non-organic, non-grassroots revenue.

It would be very interesting to see the number of square-feet of studio space dedicated to recording the Merv Griffin Show or Art Linkletter and comparing it to the all-in square-footage required for The View of Harris Faulkner.

Chopping at the hamstring in the other leg, there is a very real possibility that advertisements for prescription drugs might be prohibited. That would immediately eliminate about 1/7th the "organic, grass-roots" revenue.

And, in the wings, most people under 50 get most or ALL of their news from on-line sources. How many square-feet do Joe Rogan or Nick Freitas or Joey Swoll use?

Good times are always followed by hard times. Take note and prepare accordingly.

A little East of Paris: An Evil and Fallen World

Jana sat in the shade of the wrap-around porch and watched the swirl of people going by.

They had no sooner arrived than “Sonny” had been leaving with the UTV for a nickel-tour of the ranch. Dr von Tersch had frantically gestured to have Gwain join them.

Jana gave Gwain a wave. “I’ll be fine. After all, how long can it take to drive around the property?”

The afternoon had turned warm and Jana was content to sit in the glider and listen to the babble of happy voices.

A young Black man was passing by and noticed that she didn’t have anything to drink and had no food. Taking in her languid movement and her lack of hair, he asked “Can I get you something to eat?”

“No. No need to bother. I’ll be fine” Jana responded.

The Black man rephrased his question “When I bring you some food, is there anything you CAN’T eat.”

Jana sighed. “Since you insist, bring me something light, and just a little bit of it.”

In a few minutes the Black man unloaded a bewildering load of food. Jana’s plate had just a spoonful of this and a spoonful of that. The young man’s plate also had a modest amount of food, mostly high-protein items.

The man wordlessly handed Jana her silverware, rolled up in a napkin and then the plate. After a mumbled "Your welcome" to Jana's "Thank-you", the man sat next to her and started to eat.

Jana's plate held a little bit of smoked meat. Some mac-n-cheese. A dab of beans. Greens cooked with pork (more pork than greens, by the look of it). Salsa fresca. Some slaw with vinegar dressing. A bit of cornbread. He had also brought her a tumbler of lemonade.

“My name is Jana McCampbell, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart” Jana told him.

“Mine is Otis Grant” the man told her and then returned to eating.

Jana tilted her head a bit as he spoke. “I am guessing that you spent some time in New York City” she speculated.

“Let me guess, you read Pygmalion by Shaw” Otis parried.

“Guilty” Jana admitted. “I grew up in Delaware, so I can hear it in the vowels.”

“Clason Point, Bronx” Otis grudgingly shared.

“Funny how you can go to a big party and find somebody you have things in common with” Jana observed. “Here we are, two East-Coasters in Texas and BAM! We found each other.”

“Yep” Otis laconically noted.

"Do you know many of the people here?" Jana asked. Jana was puzzled that nobody stopped and chatted with him.

Otis briefly raised his eyes and did a quick scan, something he had been doing the whole time they had been talking "Yep. I work with most of them" and then returned his attention to his food.

Pulling words from Otis was like pushing a rope. He wasn't much of a talker.

Whether it was a slight shift in the angle of the light or the fact that she looked downward to better spear the food on her plate, Jana’s brain finally registered the fact that many of the men were wearing guns on their belts.

Tension edged Jana’s voice when she said to Otis in a low voice “Otis...did you happen to notice all of the guns.”

Otis said “It's a barbecue. This is Texas. What did you expect?”

“It’s not a big deal to you?” Jana asked.
 

“Nope. In fact, I am wearing one too.”

Jana’s eyes shot to Otis’s waist and sure enough he was carrying one of those boxy-looking guns in an ornate, leather holster with a basket-weave pattern embossed in its surface.

“Isn’t that one of those automatic pistols like the Cartels use?” Jana asked, aghast.

“It is a semi-automatic, not an automatic. All the difference in the world” Otis stated with finality.

“What is the difference?” Jana asked.

“For one thing, I can hit my target with a semi-auto. With a full-auto, maybe your first one or two shots will hit the target but then most of them fly off god-knows-where because the muzzle climbs" Otis said.

“So you are saying that a semi-auto is even more deadly than a full-auto, which makes it even more evil, right?” Jana pointed out, sure she had found a flaw in Otis’s logic.

“A semi-auto is more deadly to my enemies and less deadly to innocent people...at least in MY hands” Otis said.

“I don’t get it. Why would a grown, mature man feel a need to carry a gun?” Jana asked, bewildered.

“We live in an evil and fallen world” Otis said.

Jana shrugged in disbelief and gestured around her. “Look around you. This is a happy place. There is no evil here. There is absolutely no need for anybody to carry guns.”

“Nova Music Festival” was all Otis said.

“What?” Jana said.

“I was in Israel working on my thesis when Hamas attacked the Nova Music Festival. Minutes before it happened, everybody was happy. They were listening to anti-war folk-music and dancing. They saw no evil. Nobody had any guns. That was on October 7, 2023” Otis said.

“But there is nothing like that here” Jana insisted.

“The Israeli were sure that Iran, which was a 1000 miles away, was their biggest enemy. They couldn’t see the enemies right under their noses.” Otis said. “The attack killed over a thousand people.”

“So you are saying that if everybody was carrying a gun that it wouldn’t have happened?” Jana challenged.

“I am saying that if 10% of the men had been carrying a gun that they knew how to use and if each man had two spare magazines, that Hamas would not have dared to carry out the attack” Otis said.

They ate in stony silence, neither conceding their views. Nevertheless, Otis didn't leave, either.

Twenty minutes later, Gwain joined them.

“Well, that was ugly” Gwain said.

“What was ugly?” Jana asked.

“It is calving season and some wild hogs tore apart a day-old calf. Sonny insisted on setting some snares and hauling away what was left of the dead calf” Gwain said. “Messy business.”

“What do you mean, ‘wild hogs’? You mean like Russian boars?” Jana asked.

“Yes. More or less” Gwain agreed. “They live in the woods near the river* and come out in packs to forage when it is dark.”

Jana shivered. “Sounds horrible.”

Otis nodded in agreement and muttered in a soft voice “Another reason to carry a gun.”

(C) 2025 Eaton Rapids Joe, All Rights Reserved 

*The wild hog population in Lamar county is primarily found in the wooded/brushy areas floodplains of the Red River on the north and the Sulphur river that forms the southern boundary of the county. Mature wild sows in Texas produce over 4 female "replacements" per year.

Creeping loss of privacy

Source

Some search-engines you probably never heard of

www.refseek.com - Academic Resource Search. More than a billion sources: encyclopedia, monographies, magazines.

www.worldcat.org - a search for the contents of 20 thousand worldwide libraries. Find out where lies the nearest rare book you need.

https://link.springer.com - access to more than 10 million scientific documents: books, articles, research protocols.

www.bioline.org.br is a library of scientific bioscience journals published in developing countries.

http://repec.org - volunteers from 102 countries have collected almost 4 million publications on economics and related science.

www.science.gov is an American state search engine on 2200+ scientific sites. More than 200 million articles are indexed.

www.base-search.net is one of the most powerful researches on academic studies texts. More than 100 million scientific documents, 70% of them are free

 

A big tip-of-the-hat to Lucas Machias to shared this information with me.

Are you addicted to comfort?

One of the toughest challenges of managing/supervising is maintaining discipline when everything is going well. The manager does not have critical, time-urgent tasks in front of his workers that will automatically order the sequence of work.

Combat fatigue is widely recognized (PTSD, 1000-yard-stare) but garrison fatigue is also a "thing".

This lady seems to have a handle on that. I don't think she is broke. Never-the-less, she runs a tight ship. She understands that you communicate EXPECTATIONS by what you INSPECT. She understands that resources are finite, even if it seems like you have a lot. She seems to know that to inculcate those values in your kids that you have to walk-the-talk, even though it might seem academic.

The team plays on Friday night the way it practiced on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

She also touches on the need to get comfortable with some degree of inconvenience or discomfort.

Mistakes were made

The poultry netting (aka, chicken wire) was pulled away from the trunk. Rabbits found it.

Multiple layers of newspaper. If the exposed cambium does not dry out, it can heal.

Interesting summary on pain and physical activity HERE

Like the Drill Instructor said, "More sweat now means less of your blood later". Higher levels of physical activity correlated to higher-to-much-higher levels of pain tolerance.

Today was a lifting AND running day. I ran first and then did minimum lifting for maintenance. 

The running went very well. I had very little in my gut and I believe that my volume-of-air per breath was higher than the last run. My bpm plateaued at 143 bpm. 

Twenty cycles of this equals one hour and four miles

I am NOT recommending that anybody else do it this way. Everybody is unique.

If all goes well, the sixty-seconds at 6.0 mph will be bumped up to sixty-six seconds after another week of "foundational" conditioning.

A rule-of-thumb for younger runners is "growing" mileage 10% a week which equates to a doubling of mileage every seven weeks.

 

A counter-offer: 51, 52 and 53 (and now 54)

What if we offer Canada the privileges of being the 51st, 52nd and 53rd States?

Southern Ontario circled in blue, Quebec circled in red, Everybody Else circled in green.

Southern-Ontario, Quebec and Everybody Else. That would entail populations of roughly 15 million, 8 million and 16 million or roughly the populations of New York State, Washington State and New York State. They would get six senators and would split roughly 50:50 Conservative:Liberal and the new states would fall into coherent ideologies although Vancouver and the Maritimes might quibble with Everybody Else....so maybe hold a referendum where they can chose to join Quebec.

Added later

 One of the proposals from the comments. Quebec is made its own, stand-alone country. Western Canada is grouped together based on "like" industries and culture. Southern Ontario is made its own state based on population and "like" industries. The eastern provinces + south side of St Lawrence River are grouped together as kind of a Nueva Inglaterra Norte.

One person's loss can be another person's gain

The economy is slowing down like a trucker who popped speed and drove for 36 hours straight.

People accumulated debt and toys and parked them in storage units or along their back-fence. Previous administrations papered over the pot-holes in the pavement and the debt wasn't too big of a burden, so there the toys sat.

Even as recently as 15 years ago, when the economy slowed down people would park their campers or trailers or snowmachines or boats or murdercicles along the side of the road with a "For Sale" sign. A fellow who was patient and frugal could cherry-pick through the offerings and pick up some gently-used items for a very attractive price.

That was a much better use for those items than to have them slowly rusting away beneath the mulberry trees. 

Another factor that is coming into play is that we are "aging out". How many 75 year-olds want to hop on their quad and go zooming through the woods? How many want to hitch-up the 24' camper and tow it to a campground?

One key point about purchasing used toys is to have some cash in your pocket...or secreted somewhere safe in your vehicle. It doesn't have to be a lot of money. A desperate person might take $200 for something they had $500 written on the for-sale sign if it is cash-right-now and it-is-all-I-have. 

But we are going to get a $5000 check from Elon!

Maybe we will. Maybe we won't.

My guess is that they will talk about it for a while and then the checks, if they come, will show up in early-to-mid October. Then, if there is a 2026 "dividend" it will show up at the same time.

Why October? Because people have short memories. A big check in October will have the maximum effect on the elections and the incumbents will benefit. 

Bonus images

Consider the "universe" of businesses. Some survive on volume and others are "boutiques" that create revenue based on mark-up

Examples of businesses that survive on volume are Walmart, Dollar General and Ford Motor Company

Businesses that are examples of "boutique economy" are places that sell JUST super-expensive Tee Shirts, or baseball hats with 600% mark-up or $250 pairs of tennis shoes. On the opposite end of the automotive spectrum from Ford might be Tesla.

In an expanding economy, one would expect the upper-left corner to show growing revenues and growth in square-footage. It would come at the expense of the volume that had been going to Walmart et al.

At the beginning of a contracting economy, one expects revenues at Walmart et al to expand at the expense of the boutique business. In turn, the boutique business are extreme fragile during downturns because it is difficult to supply service and new inventory when revenue is choked off.

When the REAL economy is very sick, the revenue (on continuing operations) of the Walmart et al firms sags.

Those images are to provide a frame-of-reference for this article "Walmart predicting slowdown for 2025"

The gurus on Wall Street are puking because the cooked-numbers of the previous Administration said "Everything is fine. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." But when Walmart predicts declining revenue, EVERYBODY takes notice.

A little East of Paris: What is a Barbecue Gun?

Gwain picked up his phone as he stirred half-and-half into his second cup of coffee. Jana was reading the Saturday edition of the Washington Post.

Looking at the display, he saw that it was Dr von Tersch, the head of the Writing Department.

“I hope I didn’t catch you sleeping” Dr. von Tercsh started out, “but Debbie told me to try and catch you before you made too many plans for the day.”

That had an ominous sound to it.

“Are you OK if I put you on speaker? I am sitting with Jana, my wife and we are just finishing up breakfast” Gwain responded.

“Sure, put her on speaker and I will do the same with mine” von Tersch said, agreeably.

“Its Dr. von Tersch” Gwain told Jana in a stage whisper.

“OK” von Tersch took control of the conversation “I am here with my wife Debbie and we looked at the weather report and decided that it was past time to have a barbecue out at the ranch. We know it is short notice and that you are still getting settled-in so we will understand if you cann’t make it.”

Jana looked at Gwain and nodded her permission. She understood faculty politics and when your boss invites you to a party, you go.

“What can we bring?” Jana asked.

A woman’s voice responded “Bring wide-brimmed hats and whatever you like to drink. There will be some beverages provided but if there is anything special you want to drink, you best bringing it.”

“What about a dish-to-pass?” Jana asked.

“Tell ya what. This time around just plan on showing up and mingling. There will be folks from the Department, and some neighbors. Who knows, maybe the Dean will even show up” von Tersch said.

“Folks will start showin’ up around 2:00-2:30. Food will be served around 5:00 and we will start wrapping up around 8:30, ‘course if you have other commitments or get tired you can leave any time you want” von Tersch assured them.

That sounded like an extremely long party to Gwain.

Debbie must have intuited their hesitation. “There will be plenty to do. Sonny manages our ranch and he would love to take you for a ride around the property in the UTV. The water is a little bit cold but the bass might be biting if you like fishing. We have a veranda around the ranch-house with porch swings. Might even be a little bit of music with guitars and what-all. Once it gets dark we will light a fire.”

Gwain looked over at Jana. He REALLY didn’t want to get her overly-tired.

Jana nodded her affirmation again.

Gwain responded “We will probably show up a little bit later, maybe 3:30 or 4:00. Jana is still recovering from the surgery and I had quite a week. So we might not stick around much past the meal...if that is OK with you?”

Debbie shot her husband a dirty look. She had advised against the party but had been overridden. Putting on her syrupiest, Southern Belle drawl she said “An we-alled be glad to have ya for whatevah time you kin spare” and then sprinkled the comment with a shower of silver-sleighbells laughter.

And all was right with the world.

After hanging up on Gwain’s call, von Tersch called the Dean. “I got a hold of Professor McCampbell and he accepted the invitation to the barbecue.”

Debbie only half-heard what Dean Fuchs said in reply. His voice was low and gravely and didn’t transmit well, given the limitations of the phone’s speaker.

She was willing to bet that there was now an almost 100% chance that Dean Fuchs* would be at the barbecue.

Even though she and her husband traveled in the same social circles as the Dean and his wife Candice, the demands on the Dean’s time meant that they didn’t see all of that much of him. That had not always been the case. Fifteen years ago, the couple had been very close.

But as the years passed and both men had risen within the ranks of the University, they had both been torn by the conflicting demands of University (and by extension, external) politics and basic, human decency.

Initially, it had caused her pain and anguish to see her husband, a upright and practicing Christian, torn on the horns of the dilemmas and having to make very hard decisions.

It took years before she found peace. The leader of her Bible Study group had been instrumental in helping Debbie see that the parables of the boats and the storms applied to her husband, and by extension, to her. Life was fraught with peril and challenges. But who better to face the storm than a Godly man?

However, she had never gotten used to some of the intricate, Machiavelian scheming.

Dr von Tersch then texted Gwain the address of the ranch and included the list of clothing Debbie had suggested. Then he added one more item that they could bring.

Reading the text to Jana, he got to the end of it and asked “What is a ‘Barbecue Gun’?”

“It must be one of those gizmos that you can use to inject marinade into chicken” Jana speculated. “We can pick one up at the HEB on the way there.”

 

*Pronounced "FOX". I know how some of you guys think.

Exercise notes

I successfully knocked out another hour on the treadmill. I followed the same plan.

After a short warm-up, 60 seconds of running at 6.0mph. Then walking at 3.0mph for 120 seconds. Halfway through the walking portion I monitored my heart-rate. That routine was repeated 20 times until an hour had passed.

Subjectively, the hour passed much more quickly even though my gut felt like I had too much to eat at lunch. On the "plus" side, all of those minor, stability muscles seemed to be happy and working together without drama.

Objectively, my heart-rate plateaued at 153bpm rather than the 147bpm of the first session.

The lifting sessions are on hold for a week while I sort out the treadmill issues. It was just too much to juggle the lifting sessions every three days and the treadmill sessions every-other-day.

Seasonal flu snapshot

Waste-water monitoring for A-strain Seasonal flu. Looks like we are nearing the peak.

 

Case loading by state. Not so good for Michigan

Flu strains in 2024/2025 US cases that have been "fingerprinted"

Flu strains that WHO recommended for Northern Hemisphere. Recent research suggests that re-immunizing with identical strain "blunts" body's immune response.

Avian flu (H5) detected in wastewater monitoring. Purple dots are "Positive"

Presented with minimal comment

 

Picture on the left taken five years ago, just before the wedding. Picture on the right of the same person after popping out three kids.

A little East of Paris: Debriefing Gwain

Hank parked his Yukon in the street in front of the vacant lot next to the bungalow where Gwain and Jana were staying. He had called to make an appointment and learned that Gwain had completed teaching his classes for the week and the only way to talk to him, face-to-face, would be off-site.

Fortunately, the house was barely 20 minutes away, a hop-skip-and-jump by Texas standards.

Walking up to the house, Hank saw two women sitting on the porch to the left of the front door and Gwain sitting on a wicker chair to the right. Gwain gestured to a folding metal chair for Hank to sit on “I apologize for the inconvenience. We haven’t had much time to set up house-keeping.”

Hank shook Gwain’s hand. “My name is Hank Lewis and I have been retained by Olivia Benavidez as her personal representative.” 

Hank got the impression that Gwain's handshake that he was frail. Even though Gwain had long fingers, they seem insubstantial and is hand felt almost bird-like.

Gwain gave a noncommittal “Hmmm”.

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” Hank started out.

“Are you asking to be neighborly or in your professional capacity?” the old white woman asked. She was wearing a silk scarf wound around her head and clearly had almost no hair. Chemo?

“I am here in a professional capacity” Hank admitted.

“In that case, you won’t mind showing us proof that you really ARE Miss Benavidez’s representative and not a reporter” Gwain said.

Hank, in spite of himself, was impressed. There was no rancor, just a fellow professional who insisted on dotting-every-i-and-crossing-every-t.

Sitting down in the folding chair, Hank opened up his briefcase and found the appropriate folder and extracted the “Retainer of Services” form that Olivia Benavidez had signed.

“ID?” Gwain asked.

Wordlessly, Hank pulled out his wallet and extracted his Driver’s License. “I will need both of those back” Hank said.

“Of course” Gwain said, absentmindedly as he studied them. Then he handed both documents to Jana for her to look at. Jana inspected them and handed them back to Gwain who passed them back to Hank who carefully refiled them in their respective places.

“How can I help you?” Gwain asked.

“Were you a witness to any events involving Miss Olivia Benavidez yesterday? If you were, can you tell me what you observed?” Hank asked.

“Yes” Gwain answered. 

Gwain had just started on his narrative when Hank abruptly interrupted him. “Wait. I heard you say that you didn't just witness this but that you were also trapped in the office?”

“Yes” Gwain answered.

“So you were with her the whole time?” Hank asked.

“I was with Miss Benavidez from 2:15 PM until 6:45 PM when I left her at the Student Health Services medical facility where she was being held for observation” Gwain replied.

“Who do you think did this to you?” Hank asked.

“Cole Byrd, spelled B-Y-R-D, and one of his buddies” Gwain responded without hesitation.

“How certain are you that this Cole Byrd did this?” Hank pressed.

“I am 100% certain. I know his voice and he had motive...I had just given him an F on a paper and I told him that if he cheated on his next paper I would have him expelled from the University” Gwain said.

Then Scarlett piped up on Hank’s ear-bud “Cole Byrd graduated with a 3.1/4.0 GPH from RW Private Academy and scored 17 on both attempts at the ACT and 990 Composite SAT which puts him at 45 percentile. That might explain why he isn't going to school in Austin" Scarlett added, archly.

"His parents live in the Rollingwood Neighborhood of Austin and the median property value is $2.8 million” she concluded.

“Who do you think the other person was?” Hank asked.

“Almost certainly it was one of the other Frat members” Gwain said.

This was looking better by the minute. Predatory “Frat boys” don’t play well in front of Texas juries, not when they are harassing young, Hispanic women. Nor do millionaires.

Jana asked “Which fraternity?”

“Gamma-Gamma-Psi” Gwain said.

“Oh my God!” Jana said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me that they are in Texas, too.”

Catching Hank’s quizzical expression, Gwain said “Some fraternities have a reputation.”

Diane was absorbing all of this new information, not saying a word.

“Anyway” Hank said, “tell me what happened as best you remember it from the beginning…”

It took Gwain almost twenty minutes to recount the ordeal. When Hank started to scribble down the name of the maintenance man, Gwain said “You don’t need to do that. Miss Benavidez already wrote down that information. She wrote down the times, too.”

Brows furrowed in consternation “And when would she have had time to do that?” Hank asked.

“I told her to write everything down as it happened” Gwain said, apologetically. “It seemed like the only way to keep her from panicking.”

Hank folded his hands and put them in his lap. “She wrote down everything as it happened?”

“Yes” Gwain said.

Handel’s Messiah’s refrain was singing in Hank Lewis’s head as he asked “And this is something that you have a copy of?”

“I have the original locked in my file cabinet, but I can give you a scanned copy from the University’s shared-drive. I took the liberty of accepting what she wrote as a class assignment” Gwain said.

Hank licked his lips. “How long would it take for you to email me that copy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes. My laptop is old and is a little slow to boot-up. That, and I have to find it” Gwain said.

“Its underneath your new book on the Civil War” Jana informed him.

Three minutes later, Hank’s laptop pinged, informing him that he had a new email.

Opening the attachment and starting to read, the first thing Hank asked “How accurate are these times?”

“I really don’t know” Gwain admitted. “Miss Benavidez could see the screen of my desktop computer, so I imagine they are not more than a minute off.”

“Do you want me to mail you the original?” Gwain asked.

“Nope. You hang onto it until the police ask for it. Keep it locked in your files. It is a chain-of-custody nightmare if I touch the original” Hank told Gwain.

Hank thanked Gwain profusely for his help and he advised Gwain (and Jana and Diane) to not talk about his visit.

Jana assured Hank that College Professors are often privy to privileged information and knew that bringing the perpetrators to justice would be easier if they were not alerted.

Diane vigorously shook her head in the negative. “I didn’t hear nothin’. I wasn’t even here.”

The last thing Hank asked for was Violet's number. If he was lucky he could catch her before she went home. 

Gwain informed Hank that the door to his office had already been replaced. Hank wanted to pass word to the University maintenance department to not throw away the door. It was looking more and more like it was evidence to a crime. 

(C) 2025 Eaton Rapids Joe, All Rights Reserved

Running (for future reference)

I am getting antsy. I have stuff to do outside but the ground is frozen.

So I go to the gym. That way I will have stamina when the balloon goes up and I can start digging holes.

For now, the "right" amount of running seems to be one minute at 6.0mph followed by two minutes of walking at 3.0mph. Lather, rinse, repeat. That works out to twenty minutes (2.0 miles) at 6.0mph and 40 minutes (2.0 miles) in an hour.

Twenty minutes into the workout my pulse rate was 145-to-147 half-way through the 2 minute walking/recovery periods. I kept checking to see if it would creep up toward the end of the work-out but it didn't. Opinions vary, but I believe that bpms in the 140-150 region are high enough to be useful and low enough to be safe for 65 year-old, chubby mid-Western men like me.

I think that I am looking at two weeks of every-other-day to build cardiac/lung capacity and some skeletal muscle. Then I will start slowly decreasing the length of the 3.0 mph recovery periods or alternating one-minute and two-minute recovery periods.

6.0 mph seems to be a "smooth" speed on my preferred treadmill. It may have something to do with the springiness of the treadmill's bed and rubber-bumpers and my weight.