Memes that made me laugh 97

 

Gathered from around the Internet over the past week.  Click any image for a larger view.

Sunday morning music

 

It's about time for a relaxing Celtic approach to music.  Robin Bullock is famous across America for his Celtic instrumental playing on guitar, mandolin and other instruments, and his collaboration with other musicians.  He lives in North Carolina, but travels the country almost every year on a music tour, or to work with other players, or to teach a masterclass to eager students.

I find his music pleasing to the ear and - because I like Celtic music in general - pleasantly relaxing.  I listen to him primarily as background music when I write.  I don't have to pay particular attention to what's playing, but it's a constant undertone that eases the work along and makes it less frustrating when I get stuck on something.

Here are five of his short pieces, selected in no particular order.

You'll find much more of his music on his YouTube channel, and at his Web site.

Peter

Saturday Snippet: A war for an asteroid-rich star system

 

I'm sure many of my readers are familiar with my "Cochrane's Company" military science fiction trilogy.  It portrays how a fledgling space security company runs headlong into a conflict with the Albanian Mafia (in space, of course) over stolen asteroids.  The first volume, "The Stones Of Silence", describes how that conflict began, and culminates in the first bout of open military hostilities between the two parties.

The Albanian Mafia attacks using two old destroyers that they've modernized and equipped with more up-to-date weapons.  The security company must defend itself with a few very old, outdated patrol craft, plus a single corvette that's far smaller than the destroyers it must face.  However, it has the advantage of modern weapons and systems.

Here's how the first fight of that war went down.  The scene opens on the bridge of an Albanian destroyer, then the viewpoint shifts as the action continues.

“Any sign of enemy movement?” the destroyer’s captain demanded.

“No, sir,” the Plot operator replied. “There’s just the patrol craft over near Secundus’ asteroid belt, two billion kilometers from their depot ship, and another about three hundred million kilometers beyond the target group, almost on our course, sir.”

“We’ll take care of that one on our way out of the system,” the captain grunted in satisfaction. “Weapons, make sure you reserve ten missiles for her, but don’t worry about a firing solution yet. We’ll develop one after we’ve dealt with the main group.”

“Aye aye, sir,” came from the Weapons console. “What about the one over at Mycenae Secundus?”

“We’ll leave her. We want her to be able to tell others what happens when they challenge us.”

The captain gazed in satisfaction at the Plot. An enlarged section in one corner showed icons representing the gravitic drive signatures of six ships in the target group. He presumed they were the other two patrol craft he’d been warned to expect, their depot ship, and three others – probably mining vessels, visiting freighters, or couriers. At such extreme range his systems couldn’t classify them with any accuracy, or pinpoint their positions except to recognize that they were orbiting Mycenae Primus Four. Every ship would be targeted by ten missiles from each destroyer. They were still blissfully unaware of the death and destruction streaking toward them.

The captain turned to the old man, sitting in a wheelchair beside the Command console. “We’re on course, on speed and on time, Patriarch. They’re only three billion kilometers ahead. We’ll begin braking now, very slowly, at low drive power, to reduce speed before our firing pass.”

“Why reduce speed, captain?” came the labored reply. The old man was clearly not in the best of health. “Why not go at them full speed ahead?”

“It’s our sensors, Patriarch. They aren’t the most up-to-date. At one-quarter of light speed, the distortion is so great that they can’t direct our missiles as well as we’d like. If we slow to one-tenth of light speed, they’ll be much more accurate.”

“I understand. I shall mention this to the Brotherhood Council. We must see about getting you better sensors.”

“Thank you, Patriarch.” He turned to the Helm console. “Drive to braking mode, power five percent.”

Almost imperceptibly, the destroyer began to slow her headlong rush. To one side and a little behind, only ten thousand kilometers away, her sister ship detected her diminutive drive signature, and matched her actions.

—————

Cochrane ran into the depot ship’s Operating Center still buttoning his shirt, its brand-new epaulettes, bearing the single thick gold stripe of Commodore’s rank, bouncing heavily on his shoulders. His fly gaped open, and his feet were thrust into half-fastened shoes. “What is it?”

“The surveillance satellite has just detected two high-speed bogeys, three billion kilometers out, sir, plus-or-minus two percent,” the Officer of the Deck replied crisply. “They started up their drives at very low power – or, rather, they started them two-point-seven-eight hours ago, sir. That’s the estimated light speed delay between the plotted position and our own. They’re headed for us, in close formation.”

Cochrane finished adjusting his clothing as he listened, staring into the Plot display at the red warning icons. “How fast are they moving?”

“Initial analysis indicates one-quarter Cee, sir.”

His blood ran cold. Those had to be warships at that speed, or perhaps fast freighters. If the latter, they’d surely be armed. They hadn’t emerged from a hyper-jump at the system boundary, like normal traffic. Instead, they’d come out far beyond the Mycenae system, then accelerated toward it and cut their drives to avoid detection. They were clearly looking for trouble, or they would have arrived in the usual way. They’d almost certainly just begun decelerating, to make it easier to target Eufala’s ships as they drew nearer.

Dave Cousins, now wearing the four stripes of Captain’s rank on his epaulettes, ran into the OpCen, followed closely by Hui. In a few short phrases, the Officer of the Deck brought them up to speed.

Dave glanced at his boss. “Looks like they want a piece of us, sir. Only warships could be coming in at that sort of speed, and they’re not signaling their arrival. If it hadn’t been for the surveillance satellite, they’d have taken us unawares.”

“Yes. I’m suddenly very glad we spent so much money on it!” A strained chuckle ran around the OpCen. “I agree, they’re most likely warships, or perhaps armed fast freighters like Orca. The question is, who are they?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I don’t plan to wait until they get into range to find out. If they continue to come straight for us, without any arrival signal, I request permission to treat them as hostile.”

“Permission granted. You’re the local commander, Dave. You’re in charge. I’ll backstop you if you want advice.” He itched to take control himself, but that was one of the cardinal principles of delegating authority. If you did, it had to stay delegated, unless and until the person wielding it proved incapable of handling it. As the old farming metaphor had it, if you kept taking back the reins, a new driver would never learn to control the team.

“Please hang around, sir. I’d like to bounce ideas off you. Meanwhile, let me get our people ready.”

“Go ahead.”

Cousins turned to the Communications console. “Command to Communications. Send to all ships, flash priority, tight-beam transmission only to prevent interception. Unidentified vessels approaching at high speed from outside the system, intentions unknown. All ships are to remain in their present positions relative to each other. Keep drives at current power levels. Do not use active sensors, or make any transmission that might indicate we’re aware of our guests. Come to general quarters, and stand by for orders.”

“Communications to Command, recorded, aye aye, sir.”

Hui came to Cochrane’s side. In a low voice, she asked, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Stick around. You can help Dave and I. Three senior heads should be better than two.”

“Don’t you remember the old saying about too many cooks?”

Dave snorted. “Yes, but we’re not cooking.”

She laughed.

—————

“Any change?”

“Nothing visible in the Plot, sir,” the operator responded, trying to keep irritation out of his voice. Did the captain think he wouldn’t speak up if he noticed anything? Why did he keep asking the same question every five minutes?

The old man next to the command console reached up and plucked at the captain’s sleeve. As the commanding officer bent down to him, he said softly, “You are nervous, my son, and your constant questions are making your people nervous. Be calm. We are hours away yet. Set them an example of unperturbed leadership. Silence is your friend.”

The captain flushed. “I apologize, Patriarch. This is the first time I, or any of us, have led our warships into battle. It is a momentous occasion.”

“It is indeed. That is why I am here, too. Come. Let us enjoy a cup of coffee in the wardroom. Send your crew to eat and drink, half at a time, rather than let them sit and stew in their action stations. They will be better for the break.”

The captain wanted to protest, but stifled his words. The Patriarch had commanded half a dozen vessels during his younger days, before he conceived of the Fatherland Project and led the breakaway. He knew whereof he spoke.

“I hear and obey, Patriarch.”

“Good. Please push this wheelchair for me, my son. My arms grow too weak. Curse the frailty of age!”

“It will be my honor, Patriarch.”

—————

Cousins straightened, drew in a deep breath, and nodded to himself. He turned to Cochrane. “Here’s what I propose, sir.”

He marked courses and movements in the Plot display with colored lines and icons as he spoke. “They’re still coming in, but slowing down. They’ll be in range in about six hours. I want to be able to deal with a worst-case scenario, so I’m going to assume they’re destroyers, or have equivalent firepower. If we plan to deal with that, we should be able to handle anything less.”

“I agree,” Cochrane encouraged him.

“I propose to have Amanita deploy a decoy in her present position, broadcasting her gravitic drive signature at its present power level. Whoever’s out there should assume she’s still in orbit. I’ll have her creep out toward them at low power, using all her stealth systems. She should be able to reach a good firing position before they get into range of us. She can take them under fire while they’re still at extreme range, forcing them to respond to her rather than shoot at the rest of our ships. If they survive her fire, they’ll probably scoot past the planet before they can gather their wits, recalculate their firing solution and take us under fire. If any missiles come our way, the patrol craft can deal with them using their defensive weapons. After that, they can go after those ships, if necessary.”

Cochrane scratched his chin thoughtfully as he gazed at the Plot. “That’s not bad, Dave, but I’d like to suggest a couple of changes, if I may.”

“Go ahead, sir. You know more about this than I do.”

“If I were the enemy commander, I’d want to engage at less than maximum range, to be as sure as possible of hitting my targets. That’s doubly true because he has to aim at six ships, not just one. That’s a big test for any fire control system, getting the missiles close enough to their targets to be able to discriminate between them. If he’s got modern destroyer missiles, they’ll have a maximum powered range of about eight million kilometers; but they’ll take several minutes to cover that range, giving us time to activate our defenses and take evasive action. Therefore, I’d say he’s likely to close in to half, or even a quarter of that range before he fires, particularly if he figures we don’t know he’s coming. What do you think?”

Cousins sucked in his breath. “We’d be taking a big chance to rely on that, sir. What if he fires at longer range?”

“We’ll have to face his missiles, no matter what. If they’re destroyers, those two ships will be carrying more missiles between them than our corvette and three old patrol craft. We can’t match their throw weight, so we’ve got to outsmart them. I think his crews will be so busy perfecting their firing solution, and getting so close that we can’t properly defend ourselves, that they’ll be oblivious to anything else. If Amanita lets them get close enough to develop target fixation, she may catch them completely unawares. They’ll take precious seconds to break their focus on us, realize what’s going on, and defend themselves against her missiles – much less fire back at her. It’ll throw them into confusion.”

“I see, sir.” Dave’s voice was doubtful. “I still think it’s taking a hell of a chance, though.”

“Let’s come back to that in a moment. The other suggestion is, why not use the patrol crafts’ main battery missiles for defense, as well as their defensive missiles? They only have fifteen of each. Given the age and unreliability of their old weapons, let’s use them all for the most important task; stopping those incoming missiles.”

“And what if those ships survive Amanita’s fire, sir? What if they turn around and come back? If all our warships have emptied their pods, we’ll have no defense left against them except the pod aboard this ship, and we don’t have a modern fire control system.”

“No, we don’t. I’d advise reserving this ship’s missile pod for use in emergency. If they go past us, it’ll take them up to an hour to brake to zero velocity relative to the planet, then accelerate back toward us. During that time, all our undamaged ships can leave orbit, head out at full blast in the opposite direction, get up to maximum speed, then kill their drives and change trajectories using their reaction thrusters. Since they’ll no longer be emitting any radiation for passive sensors to find, the enemy will have to look for them using active sensors – radar and lidar. Those have a maximum effective range of less than a million kilometers. If we scatter far enough, fast enough, they’ll have a hell of a time finding any of us. The patrol craft should be able to escape into the outer reaches of the system. The hyper-jump-capable ships can head for the system boundary, to get away and call for reinforcements. I don’t think the enemy will waste much time looking for us. They’ll want to make their getaway before anyone else arrives.”

There was a long silence as they stared into the Plot. Finally, Hui said quietly, “May I offer a suggestion?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Dave assured her.

“You’ve laid an excellent foundation, and Commodore Cochrane has built on it. I propose…”

—————

Lieutenant-Commander Darroch adjusted his chair at the command console, and ran his eyes over the screens and readouts one last time. Amanita was in position, and the time had come.

“Command to Weapons. Commence launch procedure, as slowly and stealthily as possible. Remember, those bastards will be listening for so much as a single peep out of a mass driver. Ease those missiles out like you were walking on eggshells!”

Amid chuckles from the rest of the OpCen team, the Weapons Officer said, “Weapons to Command, understood, sir. Here we go.”

He pressed a key on his console, initiating a program that had been crafted with enormous care as Amanita crept out to her firing position. With almost dream-like slowness, the first two missiles slid very gently out of their firing tubes. As they tilted over toward the oncoming enemy, two more followed them, then two more, and more, and more. The missiles moved with seemingly glacial slowness as their gravitic drives kicked in at minimum power.

Forty-nine of Amanita’s main battery missiles crawled toward their final rendezvous. One remained in its tube, the victim of a mass driver malfunction that prevented it from being ejected. It was instantly flagged by the fire control system as unavailable, and its internal reactor was powered down. Maintenance crews would have to deal with it at some future date.

The Weapons Officer reported, “Weapons to Command. Missiles under way, sir.”

“Command to Weapons, thank you. Break. Command to Electronic Warfare. Any trace of emissions from the missiles’ gravitic drives?”

“EW to Command. I’m picking up minimal feedback, sir, but we’re right on top of them. It’s already fading as they move further away. I don’t think the enemy will have noticed them, sir.”

“Command to EW, good. Break. Command to Helm. Turn onto previously advised course, drive to three percent power. Let’s get into position to defend the other ships as best we can.”

“Helm to Command, turning onto course, drive three percent, aye aye, sir.”

Slowly, silently, Amanita crept back toward Mycenae Primus Four, staying a couple of hundred thousand kilometers below the enemy’s predicted trajectory. As she moved, her Weapons Officer prepared her fifty defensive missiles for action.

—————

The tension in the destroyer’s OpCen ratcheted up hour by hour as they drew closer to their targets. All the training in the galaxy could not alter the fact that this was the first time any of those aboard had seen combat in space. It was very different to creeping around an asteroid belt, dropping off clandestine prospector bots or recovering their harvest. Asteroids couldn’t shoot back.

The captain opened his mouth to ask, yet again, whether anything had changed, but restrained himself. Beside him, the Patriarch nodded approvingly, but said nothing.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, white traces erupted in the Plot display – and they were only one million kilometers ahead! The operator stared, shocked rigid, then almost screamed, “Missiles! Many missiles! They’re at point-blank range on a closing course! Time to intercept estimated five zero seconds!”

Instantly, the captain realized what must have happened. Their enemies had somehow detected their arrival, and laid an ambush for them. His mind racing, he snapped, “Attention! Weapons, set defensive system to automatic fire! Begin launching main battery missiles according to previous fire plan! Let’s get as many of them away as possible before the enemy’s weapons reach us!”

The Weapons Officer stammered, “B – but, sir, shouldn’t we fire at the attacker’s position?”

“No! Fire at our pre-programmed targets!” As the Weapons Officer bent to his console, pressing keys, turning dials and flicking switches, the captain added, “Those missiles weren’t launched a few at a time from a ship – their drives all kicked in together. That means they were already in space, waiting for us. The ship that launched them won’t be there anymore.”

“Understood, sir. Firing!”

Within seconds, main battery missiles began to vomit from the destroyer’s five missile pods. Their older technology could only eject one missile from each pod every two seconds, but their numbers grew as the seconds passed. Meanwhile, the defensive system assessed the incoming missiles, allocated counter-missiles to each one, and tried to fire – only to find itself blocked. The Weapons Officer had instinctively given top launch priority to the main battery missiles. Until they had all been fired, no defensive missiles could be used.

Recognizing the problem, the captain shouted orders. Flustered, the Weapons Officer canceled his first order to the launch system, and entered another – but now only the defensive missiles could fire. The main battery weapons were blocked. It took him ten more precious seconds to untangle the mess, and begin to launch alternately, first a main battery weapon, then a defensive missile. All the while, the incoming missiles tore closer at the maximum acceleration their modern, powerful gravitic drives could provide.

The first defensive missiles slashed at the incoming weapons, destroying several of them; but they were too few to get all of them. Of the twenty-five missiles aimed at the first destroyer, sixteen survived. They screamed into range, rolled to line up their bomb-pumped laser warheads at the ship, and exploded in thermonuclear fireballs. The nuclear energy devoured the warheads’ tightly-focused cones of laser rods. In the instant of its destruction, each rod emitted a powerful beam that streaked across the ten to twelve thousand kilometers separating the warhead from its target. More than half hit the ship, smashing through hull plating and frames, cutting through internal compartments, equipment, and the bodies of the crew as if they did not exist.

The destroyer shuddered under their blows. Within seconds, two of her fusion reactors went into emergency shutdown. The third reactor was not so fortunate. A laser pierced its compartment, scoring a direct hit on the magnetic field generator that kept its reaction within bounds. The dying reactor instantly vented its fusion-fueled fury upon the ship that carried it. With a blinding thermonuclear flash, the destroyer was reduced to its component atoms. Everyone aboard died instantaneously.

The second destroyer was further away, and did not suffer the problems caused by her compatriot’s hapless Weapons Officer. However, she was much slower to react. Her defensive missiles took out fourteen of the incoming weapons. Ten survived, sending their laser beams slashing into her. Holes speared through her from side to side and bow to stern, destroying the divisions between her airtight compartments, venting her entire internal atmosphere to vacuum. None of her crew were wearing spacesuits. They died at their stations as her reactors and gravitic drive shut down.

Her captain’s last desperate act, as he gasped for air that was no longer there, was to hit the ‘Abandon Ship’ button on his command console. It not only broadcast that message to all compartments – inaudibly, now, because there was no longer any atmosphere to carry the sound – but it also automatically activated the ship’s emergency beacon. Powered by a capacitor, it did not rely on the now-defunct reactors. The destroyer’s lifeless hulk sped onward at one-tenth of light speed, its passage marked by the doleful wailing of the beacon, summoning aid that could no longer avail the corpses of her crew.

—————

Amanita had no time to celebrate the destruction caused by the missiles she had so carefully laid in ambush. In fact, her OpCen crew did not even notice their triumph at first. They were too busy targeting the main battery missiles launched at the ships in orbit around Mycenae Primus Four.

At the first sign of enemy reaction, Lieutenant-Commander Darroch snapped, “Command to Weapons. Weapons free! Hit them!”

The Weapons Officer did not bother to reply. The frigate’s fire control system was already analyzing the flight of the enemy missiles. Her radar and lidar emitters sprang to life, providing more accurate targeting information. As the first enemy missiles streaked overhead, accelerating toward her compatriots, her defensive missiles rose to meet them.

Of the forty-seven main battery missiles that the two destroyers managed to fire before they were silenced, thirty-three were blown out of space by Amanita’s counter-fire. Only fourteen survived, to speed toward the five ships still in orbit around Mycenae Primus Four.

The corvette could do nothing more to help. She could only hang in space, all her missiles expended. Her crew waited on tenterhooks to see what would happen. It was up to the patrol craft now.

—————

In the depot ship’s Operating Center, Cochrane watched in fascination as the attack unfolded in the Plot display. He sat forward in his chair, hands gripping the armrests so tightly they left deep indentations in their cushioning. Beside him, Hui did likewise. At the Command console, Dave Cousins snapped orders to the patrol craft over the now-activated circuits.

From out of the welter of thermonuclear explosions, fourteen missile traces arrowed toward them. The patrol craft did not bother to get under way to meet them. There was no time for that. Instead, they launched everything they had from their orbital positions; main battery missiles first, then defensive units. Seventeen of their aged, less reliable weapons malfunctioned. The remaining seventy-three missiles, all the weapons they had except for their laser cannon, streamed out toward their targets in a ragged volley.

The longer-ranged main battery missiles reached the incoming weapons first. Bomb-pumped lasers fired, but their cones had been designed to spread across the length and breadth of a spaceship. The gaps between their laser beams were too wide to be fully effective against the much smaller missiles. Despite this handicap, six of the incoming weapons exploded under their impact. The remaining eight missiles bored in.

The defensive missiles reached them while they were still half a million kilometers from their targets. The interceptors carried thermonuclear blast warheads rather than lasers, designed to both kill nearby weapons and overload the sensors of those further from the explosion, so they could not home on their targets, or know when they had reached the most effective range to fire their laser cones. In a series of rolling fireballs, most of the incoming weapons were destroyed or blinded. The survivors streaked through the blast front. Two, their electronic brains scrambled, zoomed aimlessly past the ships to smash into the airless, desolate planet beyond them, diving into its surface at almost half the speed of light, digging deep craters, raising towering clouds of pulverized rock and dirt and dust. Two more swerved from side to side as their ruined sensors searched in vain for a target, then blew themselves up as their self-destruct mechanisms were automatically activated.

The last incoming weapon evaded every attempt to intercept it. The laser cannon fire directed at it at point-blank range came close, but not close enough. The missile turned in space to align its bomb-pumped laser cone on its target, and exploded at a range of just nine thousand kilometers.

HCS Piranha, the most recently arrived patrol craft, still working up to full operational readiness, turned into a glowing, expanding cloud of radioactive particles as her fusion reactor let go under the impact of a laser beam. All thirty-one of her crew died with her.

—————

There was an agonized, collective groan in the depot ship’s OpCen as they watched Piranha’s icon in the Plot display flare into the starburst signature of a nuclear explosion, then slowly shrink. Dead silence fell as they watched it fade away.

At last Cousins cleared his throat. There were tears in his eyes. Lieutenant-Commander Moffatt, until recently his Executive Officer aboard HCS Amelia, had been on board Piranha, supervising her working-up period prior to taking command of the entire patrol craft division.

“May… may God have mercy on Piranha’s crew. The rest of us… well, we’re still alive. Now we’ve got to clean up. Communications, signal to Amanita. Tell her ‘Well done’ from all of us. She’s to go after the second enemy ship. It appears to have no power, so the only way to track it is by its emergency beacon. She is to board, arrest any survivors, then use her tractor beam to tow the hulk back here.”

“Communications to Command, recorded, transmitting now, aye aye, sir.”

He looked at Cochrane and Hui. “Thank you both very much,” he said simply. “I couldn’t have figured out as good a plan on my own.”

“Neither could I,” Cochrane admitted. “It took all three of us.” He glanced at Hui. “Your suggestion for a stealthy missile launch, putting them in position to ambush the enemy, was the deciding factor. They might have spotted Amanita at that range, but the missiles on their own were too small a target. They were caught completely off guard.”

“Not completely,” she said sadly. “They were still good enough to get some of their weapons away. They killed Piranha.”

“Yes, but they might have killed a lot more of us. Let’s give thanks that they didn’t!”

“What now, sir?” Cousins asked.

“I want to examine that hulk. Let’s find out who they were, and what their ships were, and where they came from. We can learn a lot from the wreck. When we’ve finished with it, we’ll drop it into Mycenae Primus or Secundus, to be fuel for the star.”

“Please, wait until I can report back before you do!” Hui asked urgently. “I’m sure my superiors will want to send their own investigators to look at it.”

“All right,” Cochrane agreed, “but we’ll have to tow it to another planet in the system, so NOE doesn’t see it when their spacers arrive to take over. If it doesn’t emit any electromagnetic or gravitic signature, they won’t notice it. We’ll keep it out of sight in a parking orbit until your people get here. It’ll probably be best for them to travel aboard one of our ships, to avoid complications.”

“I think I can arrange that.”

“Very well.” Cochrane rose to his feet, forcing down a wave of sorrow for his dead people. “We’ve got a lot to do, including sending Amanita back to Constanta to load fresh missile pods. The sooner we get a real depot ship out here to handle that, the better! Oh, Dave? Another thing. Don’t mention this fight to anybody, particularly not to NOE when they arrive to take over. Pass the word to all our people to treat it as top secret. I presume those ships were sent by the Albanians – at least, I don’t know any other enemy that might have that ability. If they can’t find out what happened, it might make them think twice before trying again, at least for a while.”

The trilogy continues in "An Airless Storm" and concludes with "The Pride Of The Damned".  If you haven't already read them, I hope you enjoy them.

Peter

To a would-be mugger, from his erstwhile victim

 

Woodsterman has a very funny post, that he claims is an actual Craigslist advertisement from 2011, titled "To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me in Downtown Savannah night before last".  Here's a brief excerpt.

First, I'd like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn't expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket.

The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason. My girlfriend was happy that I just returned safely from my 2nd tour as a Combat Marine in Afghanistan. She had just bought me that Kimber Custom Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening.

Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head ... isn't it?!

I know it probably wasn't fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with crap in your pants.

I'm sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. (That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again).

There's more at the link, including more steps to avenge the attack.  Click over there to read the whole thing.

Peter

The computer chip supply chain crunch as a security threat

 

Karl Denninger points out that the supply crunch in semiconductors directly and immediately affects whether or not our society can survive in its present form.  All forms of emphasis are in the original.

The United States used to be responsible for about 40% of chip capacity in 1990 but today is responsible for about 12%.

What happens if a critical part of that fab capacity is either blown up or embargoed?

You literally can't make anything electronic and given the enormous percentage of the whole it would take years, perhaps even a decade or more, to just replace US demand for said chips.  Until that could be done you'd get nothing.

Realize what "nothing" means in this context:

• No cell phones.
• No towers to provide service to cellphones, including the extra one in your desk drawer.
• No "green power" of any sort, since the generation of same is DC and requires power semiconductors in size to be usable.
• All "modern" electronically-controlled electrical generation (fossil-fuel, nuclear or otherwise) shuts down immediately until and unless said chips and spares are available.  Only the older-style, mechanically and manually controlled plants can run without this, and we've forced most of them to close, never mind that those who knew how to run them, a highly-skilled process, were all laid off and are gone with many of the plants themselves in such a state of disrepair or even torn down that they could not be restarted anyway.
• Ditto for all "modern" electronically-controlled refineries, chemical plants and similar.  Oh, that's most of them for the same reason; the "old way" wasn't green enough and they've been torn down or are hunks of rust and cannot be restarted, nor does the skilled labor base required to run them still exist.
• No "green cars" of any sort, or any car at all for that matter.  All modern vehicles are "drive by wire" and without said chips literally cannot be built.  While you could build mechanical carburetors they can't legally be sold and cannot work with modern emissions controls including the basic ones like a catalytic converter as they can't control fuel:air mixture tightly enough.
• No washing machines, dryers or dishwashers.  You think not?  Find me any of the above with mechanical timers.  Forget it.
• Even your electric stove won't work.  The old push-button multi-tap controls and burner elements are no longer made or sold.  All today are electronic.
• Modern gas water heaters are electronic ignition, not standing-pilot, and without electronics won't work.  The others were made illegal because they weren't "green enough."
• Your gas furnace and air conditioner almost-certainly has a VFD-driven blower motor.  No chips, no heat or A/C.  The older-style PSC motors were less-efficient and basically forced out of the market by government mandate.
• Most natural gas, petroleum and other refining, handling and pipeline transport stops immediately if there is a failure and no parts.  Why?  Because all the motors used today are VFD-driven which, you got it, require power electronics.  No chips, no controller.
• All modern Class 8 trucks (18 wheelers, the ones that deliver everything you use) will not start or run without these chips.  A single sensor that fails and cannot be replaced forces the engine to either derate to the point of being able only to creep to the next possible place to fix it or shuts it down entirely.  If there are no parts, even an inexpensive $50 part, that's the end of that vehicle's utility until the parts are available.  If that sensor can't be made due to unavailable chips for two years sucks to be you.

I can keep going but do I need to?

In short basically, well, everything we use and enjoy today stops.  We could quite-literally be back to worse than the 1700s because in the 1700s all the houses had fireplaces and wood stoves along with candles for light where today most residences and essentially all commercial facilities are uninhabitable without modern power, water and sanitation systems.  Don't even contemplate the food, potable water and sanitation problem.

There's more at the link.

This is why any adventurism by China towards Taiwan is so critical to the USA.  Taiwan controls 40-50% of all computer chip design and production in the world, depending on whose statistics you believe.  If China takes that over, it will have all the chips it needs and can hold them over the heads of other nations as a direct and immediate threat.  "Oppose us, and you won't be able to get the chips you need."  It's as simple as that.  On the other hand, if Taiwan is able to destroy its chip manufacturing plants before the Chinese can take over, then China will be in the same boat as the rest of the world - and that boat will be up the creek, without a paddle.  Either way, the USA and the free world will lose.

As Mr. Denninger points out, we got into this by design, through letting our big corporations offshore their manufacturing and design facilities.  It would take a decade or more to move everything back here, and that won't happen because we simply aren't willing to pay the much higher costs for computer chips that would be required to pay for the move.  We're trapped in a web of our own devising.

I don't think there's any solution to this.  We'll just have to hope and pray that the powers that be don't play brinkmanship any harder than they're doing already.  If they do, then we're neck-deep in the dwang.  Those who pontificate about emergency preparations aren't any help, either, because there aren't any preparations that can suffice for this.  Individuals and families who are prepared to go back to a 19th-century way of life may make it (provided their neighbors don't try to steal what they've put in place), but the society in which we live won't.  Our nation literally can't survive in its present form without what computer chips do for us.

Living in North Texas, as I do, is a nightmarish thought without air-conditioning in summer to make our homes bearable.  As for winter, we'd probably be able to dress warmly enough to survive it here, but in the snowbound states further north, with no artificial heat or light . . . I wouldn't like to be there.  It wouldn't be pretty.

Peter

Canada is now a test laboratory for oppression in the USA

 

What's happening in Canada is being eagerly watched by the Biden administration, the Democratic Party, the progressive left, and the oligarchs behind all of them.  In it, they see their own future in the USA.  If Canada gives in to the anti-democratic dictatorship of Prime Minister Trudeau and his progressive-left cohorts, then freedom is over in that country.  If the citizens of Canada say "Enough!" and refuse to comply, and in their refusal cripple Trudeau and force his government to back down or quit, then freedom will come roaring back, and the forces working against it will be driven into retreat.

Our own leftist extremists know that full well.  They've been urging their counterparts north of the border to crack down for some time now.  (Never forget that Trudeau did not act until after he'd had a conversation with President Biden.  I'm pretty sure that conversation was scripted and basically irrelevant, partly because I don't think Biden is capable of carrying on a rational conversation any longer, partly because I'm sure the people who are manipulating Biden were talking to Trudeau and his people long before that phone call.)

Be in no doubt.  Freedom in America is now very much dependent on what happens to freedom in Canada.  If the Canucks blow it - if they falter and fail - then the powers that (currently) be in the USA will take heart, and try to impose the same level of tyranny here.  If the Canadian government proves it can crack down on its truckers and get away with it, expect the same - and worse - to happen to the Freedom Convoy currently being planned in the USA.  If the citizens of Canada won't stand up for their rights, then the powers behind the "throne" in the USA will presume that American citizens won't either - and they'll act, just as their counterparts in Canada have done.

Could anyone, even a few short years ago, have foreseen how far Canada would fall from the heights of freedom?  Consider these headlines (chosen from potentially hundreds of candidates because they're backed up by facts and evidence - and do, by all means, follow the links and read them for yourself):

• Canadian Elites Declare All-Out War On Truckers, Including Seizing Pets
• Ottawa Police Chief “It is now unlawful to protest against government, 100 checkpoints have been established”
• Canadian Prime Minister Blocks Domestic Travel in Effort to Stop Protests Against His Government – Compliance Minister Declares Federal Restriction Zones Where Travel Is Verboten
• Canadian Justice Minister David Lametti Says Supporting Trump Is Reason for Government to Seize Bank Accounts Under Trudeau Emergency Act
• Trudeau Government Officials Confirm Donors to Crowdfunding Platforms Are Specifically “Designated Targets” for DeBanking, Social Media Posts To Be Used as Evidence

So what do all those headlines mean?  I offer a few opinions for your consideration.  Text highlighted in light blue is my emphasis.

From Redstate:

What’s going on in Canada is not just sliding down a slippery slope. It’s strapping on skis and hitting a black diamond run — and that’s by design. Using the banking system to go after political opponents was always going to be the biggest threat to free speech in the future. That we are now seeing the first large-scale, government-sponsored steps in normalizing that from a supposedly free nation should disturb everyone. What’s the limiting principle here? Any honest onlooker will admit there isn’t one. Trudeau has given himself powers that essentially give him free rein to ruthlessly crush anyone who challenges his will.

Calling that totalitarianism may make some soft-spined conservatives feel icky, but that’s exactly what it is.

From the Brownstone Institute:

Justin Trudeau’s contempt for the truckers is ... genuine and profound. He sees in them not an obstacle to Covid policy or a potential threat to public health. Not even he could possibly be so stupid as to think it matters whether or not these people take their vaccines. No: he identifies in them a barrier to forces in which his political future is entwined – an ever-increasing scope and scale for governmental authority, and the opportunities to buttress his own legitimacy that would follow from it. 

And his contempt for them is outweighed, of course, by his fear. Because he surely recognises that his authority is wafer-thin. Legitimacy cuts both ways. If he fails to suppress the truckers’ revolt, the entire edifice on which his authority rests – as the helmsman of the Canadian state and its purported capacity to protect the population from harm – will come tumbling down.

From The Last Refuge:

The totality of the Trudeau administration effort is in weaponizing a narrative of protests against the government to achieve a raw and brutal power grab.   The Emergency Act is being used as a tool for political power.

Quite remarkable how openly they admit what they are doing.

Larry Lambert points out:

The GoFundMe cancellation of the trucker’s money should make. you all aware of how a cashless society will work. The Government gets mad at you and they wipe out your money, good night, the end.  This is the very essence of the social credit system.

A Twitter commenter affirms, and I agree (clickit to biggit):

I'll let the estimable T. L. Davis put it in a nutshell.

It isn’t truth or science that drives a fascist government, it is sheer power, sheer control over the people and for them to do anything less than kneel and submit is punished harshly.

The mistake is for people in America to think that it’s any different here. It’s not. Yes, we have powerful governors and such that might, state by state, resist the worst of the excesses of a tyrannical ruler like Biden, or Obama, or Rice, whoever’s actually running the show up in DC, but all of these actions and more are in the playbook.

Australia is the mark of what a Western “democracy” is willing to do as far as imprisonment-in-place and penalties for straying outside one’s cell, however lavish a cell it might be. Austria was quick to jump on that bandwagon as well. Canada is showing the power and extent to which they are willing to use anti-terror legislation and the cooperation of corporations to punish their own peaceful citizens out of sheer spite and embarrassment. Next is America, where they might be the ones to demonstrate the level of firepower that might be brought against their own citizens.

Each nation has taken upon itself the role of setting one bar or another and it sure looks like America has the role of unleashing actual weaponry. The United States has weeded patriots out of the military, have weakened the forces with the dangerous injections and have fomented war in Ukraine in order to impose the worst of measures at home. If we are at war with Russia, the American Government can use the most vicious means of suppressing opposition to that war by labeling the protesters “terrorists and traitors.” They already have your replacements imported from around the world and brought through the open southern border.

As I’ve remarked before, this is already a world war of Western governments against the free people of the world. The disparate and diffused actions taken by each nation feeds into a single narrative that freedom is not only wrong, but violent. This is the struggle for minds using intimidation, small rewards for great sacrifices, all of the tools of kidnappers and terrorists.

Until Americans, Canadians, Austrians, Australians, Brits, Italians, French and every other so-called democracy in the West recognizes that they are, by virtue of electronic surveillance, electronic banking systems, electronic voting systems, city, county and state regulations and anti-terror legislation all prisoners in their own homes, slaves to fascist governments, they will never act in a way that can ultimately free themselves. These governments need to be recognized as criminals in violation of their oaths and offices on a grand scale.

There's more at the link.

Friends, be in no doubt that the next few days and weeks, both in Canada and the USA, will be critical.  I expect the US government to try to crush the US version of the "Freedom Convoy" before it can make a major impact - perhaps even before it starts.  I expect our truckers to resist.  What will come of that?  Right now, nobody knows;  but I expect the authorities to use any and all measures necessary to crush opposition, rather than allow it to snowball out of control.

The response of free Americans to that will determine whether we remain free, or tacitly accept that we are already slaves.

Peter

Dominant superpower? No longer...

 

Sovereign Man has an interesting - and painful - analysis of the USA's vision of itself as the dominant superpower, versus its actual position.  It's pretty sobering.

It’s hardly controversial to assert that dominate superpowers don’t accumulate $30 trillion in debt (which, by the way, is 25% larger than the entire US economy).

But it’s not just the debt. It’s so much more.

Dominant superpowers don’t surrender tens of billions of dollars of military equipment to their sworn enemy, and then fly away with local civilians clinging to the side of their aircraft.

Dominant superpowers don’t abandon their own citizens abroad.

Dominant superpowers don’t engineer historically high inflation… and then ignore it. Nor do they embrace socialism, i.e. the literal opposite of the capitalist economic system that created so much wealth and power to begin with.

Dominant superpowers don’t send their government agents to harass innocent citizens, or tell parents they have no say in the education of their children.

Dominant superpowers don’t suspend their Constitutions because of a virus. They don’t give people incentives to NOT work. They don’t constantly make it difficult for small businesses to succeed.

Dominant superpowers don’t deliberately reduce their military’s physical fitness standards in the name of diversity and inclusion. They don’t prioritize “equity” over national security. And they certainly don’t fire experienced intelligence operatives because of individual medical decisions.

Dominant superpowers don’t placate their adversaries and bow to their demands. They aren’t afraid to offend their rivals.

Dominant superpowers don’t create incentives for countless people to illegally cross the border and go live under a bridge.

And above all else, dominant superpowers are able to deal with challenges.

Yes, there’s always been conflict and disagreement. But dominant superpowers have stable, effective governments who can do what is necessary to solve problems. And they have societies whose people can coexist peacefully without being at each others’ throats all the time.

It might not be pleasant to think about, but these are all true statements about the United States. And like Rome, they are all obvious signs of decline. Simply put, the US is no longer the dominant superpower.

This doesn’t mean the world is coming to an end, or that some horrible cataclysm is about to take place.

But it should be reason enough to have a Plan B.

There's more at the link.

Sovereign Man's "Plan B" is to be prepared to emigrate, just in case;  to have a bolthole outside the USA.  Personally, I discount that, because I've traveled enough and seen enough to know that there isn't anyplace likely to be better off or safer than here if push comes to shove.  Australia?  New Zealand?  Canada?  All three used to be good alternatives, but all three are now run by statist wokescolds who never saw a freedom they didn't hate, and never saw a restriction they didn't like.  Argentina?  Economic ruin.  Brazil?  Corruption, crime and conflict.  Africa?  Oy.

My solution is to live in a part of the USA that's likely to be at least somewhat insulated against the worst possible consequences of our present mess, and prepare to deal with the situation as best we can from our own resources.  To those who protest that it's "not fair", I can only ask them when life was ever fair?  To those who claim that "God will provide", and they only have to live lives of faith to be protected, I can only answer that God never promised us a life of milk and honey, beer and skittles.  He promised us grace to cope - but that doesn't exclude experiencing the sort of problems where we really, really need grace to cope.

It's worth reading Sovereign Man's article in full.  Let's learn from history while there's still time to do so, and apply the lessons of history to our own lives.

Peter

There are none so blind as those who will not see

 

In my "Inflation Watch" report a couple of days ago, I noted:

Last week we heard that inflation in January hit an annual average of 7.5%, the highest on record since 1982.  That, of course, is so much bull droppings, as we've said in these pages many times before.  If this country still measured inflation as we did in 1980, before the inflation calculations became politicized, it would be at least double that rate.  If you apply my suggested correction factor, based upon historical reality, actual consumer purchases (as opposed to government bureaucratic assumptions), and my bitter personal experience of inflation elsewhere, the current US consumer inflation rate is probably more like 26%.  When I look at our household shopping bills and the prices of the goods we normally buy, they do, indeed reflect that level of overall increase in prices since this time last year.

I've had a number of e-mails from readers after that article, trying to debunk my revised inflation rate figure.  They protest that their personal consumer inflation rate, based upon what they buy, isn't nearly that high.  Some go so far as to suggest that I'm making it up, scare-mongering, and the like.

I can only say that the reality of inflation "on the ground" currently suggests that my inflation "correction factor" of 3.5 times the "official" rate may be too low!  Here's a selection of current news reports I found in less than five minutes online yesterday afternoon.

• Bidenflation: Truck Trailer Prices Up Nearly 30%
• Used cars cost 40.5% more than last year as gas prices rise. New car prices also climbing
• Price of Unleaded Gas Up 40.8% Under Biden; Used Cars Up 40.5%; Beef Up 16.0%
• Soaring lumber price adds nearly $19,000 to the cost of a new home
• The average size of a new mortgage just set a record, as home prices continue to climb  ["The average purchase loan size was a record $453,000"]
• Americans Spent Money Like Drunken Sailors, But Did They Outspend the Raging Inflation in Durable & Nondurable Goods? Um, No
• WHOOSH Goes the Dollar’s Purchasing Power in January as Inflation Now Infests Services

I've lived in a high-inflation environment before, in South Africa from the 1970's through the first half of the 1990's.  During that period, the inflation rate was almost always in double figures.  My monthly salary when I started work in the 1970's (E-1 military) was low, but sufficient for my needs if I was frugal.  When I last visited South Africa, about three decades later, the same amount of local currency was sufficient only to buy me a basic low-end burger and fries at a local fast-food joint, and no soda with it.  (To put it in McDonald's terms, I don't mean their quarter pounder - I mean their hamburger with no frills.)  That's what persistently high inflation does to your money, if not worse.  If you take a Weimar or Zimbabwe hyperinflation scenario, even the South African experience looks infinitely rosy by comparison.

If we're to survive a high-inflation environment, we're all going to have to become hyper-alert to what's going on around us.  The old adage "If you snooze, you lose" becomes a grim daily reality in times like that.  We have to begin by accepting the reality of inflation, and not trying to evade it or pretend it isn't so.  It's comforting, and comfortable, to deny reality - but it's also economic suicide.  To make our money stretch as far as possible, we've got to cut out of our budget anything and everything non-essential, and watch like a hawk to take advantage of sales, special offers and the like on things we really need.  At the same time, we've got to weigh the advantages of cash in hand versus buying now things we may need in future, even if they're medium- to long-term needs.

For example, my vehicle currently has about 130,000 miles on its odometer.  It's running very reliably, and I have every intention of keeping it going until it falls apart;  but to do that, I have to plan for preventive maintenance and timely replacement of parts.  I'm putting money aside so that at its next service, I can replace the shock absorbers, tie rods, etc.  If the factory-new ones have lasted this long, replacing them now means that the new ones should hopefully last equally long;  and by the time they wear out, the vehicle itself will almost certainly be worn out.  Given that inflation is increasing the cost of those parts almost every time I look, it makes sense to buy them now rather than wait until I absolutely have to, because I may not be able to afford them then.

The same applies to things like tires or other expensive consumables.  We know they're going to go up in price, sometimes drastically, particularly if they're imported, because the waning value of the dollar will add to their cost.  If you're going to need them within the next year, it's not a bad idea to buy them now and store them until you've wrung the last miles out of your present set.  Some people worry that if they have an accident and their vehicle's written off, they'll be stuck with a set of tires that won't fit their new vehicle;  but you'll find you can get your money back on them, and perhaps even more, by trading them in against the size you now need, or simply selling them for cash or trading them for other things you need.  I know one man who swapped a new set of tires for a brand-new freezer.  Both sides were happy with the deal.

You can't develop that sort of perspective on the reality of your personal cost of living unless you keep your eyes open, and accept reality for what it is.  I'm sure that for most of us, if we add up the receipts for what we routinely buy each and every month, over the course of a year or two, we'll see a personal inflation rate not far from my 3.5x multiplier of the "official" numbers (massaged for political correctness as they are).  I can only suggest that each of us should conduct that exercise regularly (I'd say at least once a quarter, if not more often) to remain alert to our personal financial situation, and plan accordingly.

Also, don't look only at economic developments.  Political, social, cultural and other upheavals can drastically affect the economy, and the inflation rate.  As a current example, look at the online bank shutdown in Canada yesterday (which has been widely reported on independent news and social media, but about which the mainstream media in the USA and Canada are maintaining a deafening silence - almost as if they'd been told to shut up).  If you can't use your bank account for whatever reason, and don't have cash on hand, what are you going to do to buy what you need?  The oft-repeated advice to have enough cash on hand to cover a month or two's expenses begins to look like sound common sense, even in a high-inflation environment (although if hyperinflation strikes, it won't be common sense at all, because that cash will lose much of its value on a daily basis).  Miss D. and I can only afford a much smaller emergency fund than that, but we're very glad it's there, just in case.

Peter

I'm very glad I wasn't around when that tank let go...

 

Bustednuckles put up a very scary, but interesting video on his blog yesterday.  It's from 3Generation Racing, and shows the aftermath of an air compressor tank failure.  It did a lot of damage, and it's only by the grace of God that nobody was standing closer to it to be injured, or perhaps even killed, by the explosion.  If you have an air compressor in your garage or workshop, you need to see this;  and even if you don't, if friends or relatives use them, you need to have them watch it.

There are two follow-up videos where the failure is analyzed, here and here.  I haven't watched them, but those who use such equipment will probably find them interesting.  Also, read the comments below Bustednuckles' post.  Some knowledgeable users contribute their insights.

I'd like to point out that you should drain any moisture from your air compressor tank on a regular basis.  When I was in the military, our regulations called for that to be done (i.e. the air pressure to be released and the moisture valve at the bottom of the tank to be left open overnight) on a weekly basis in field environments.  The tank also had to be X-rayed at least once every year, to ensure it hadn't corroded until its wall became too thin to withstand the pressures involved.  As a result, I never saw a compressor tank failure in an operational environment.  I'm grateful for that, because the compressors were a LOT bigger than the small home unit shown in the video!

I hope that video will be a wake-up call for home mechanics and workshop users.  It sure was to me.

Peter

Headline of the day

 

I had to do a double-take when I read this headline over at Diogenes' Middle Finger:

Standing Up to Pee Gives Boys an Unfair Advantage in Physics

I mean . . . WTF???

Click over there to read the article (and follow the links).  It's actually a serious claim, although whether or not it'll hold up to pee-er review, I don't know . . .

Peter

"How long until Canadian-style tyranny comes to America?"

 

That's the question posed by Tucker Carlson.  It's a good one.  Bold, underlined text is my emphasis.

Canada canceled democracy last night. And the remarkable thing is no one in this country seemed to notice that it happened. There was no outcry from our political class, as their friend Justin Trudeau declared martial law in response to an entirely peaceful protest from his country's working class.

Our news media barely noted that it happened. Weirdest of all, the State Department, which exists these days to denounce such attackers of democracy as Hungary and Poland, didn't say a single word as democracy in Canada ended. That's pretty weird, if you think about it. 

. . .

What happens [in Canada] matters here. If nothing else, it's a preview of what will likely happen in the United States. So with that in mind, you should know that Justin Trudeau is no longer the prime minister of Canada. Justin Trudeau is Canada's maximum leader, its strongman, its potentate. Justin Trudeau is the dictator of Canada. If you think that's an overstatement, try to think of another way to describe what Justin Trudeau is now doing.

For the first time in Canada's history, Trudeau has invoked what's known as the Emergencies Act, but the protests he is facing hardly qualify as an emergency. But suddenly, Justin Trudeau has the power to crush all political opposition to his rule, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trudeau has ended free speech in Canada. He's banned free assembly. Trudeau's government has shut down political rallies and arrested his political critics without probable cause. Trudeau has instituted internal passports, that restrict travel within Canada, to the politically obedient. Canadians are no longer allowed to leave their own country unless they obey Justin Trudeau. And if they don't obey, they could be bankrupted and destroyed. He now has the power to do that. Trudeau has claimed the power to freeze the financial assets of any Canadian who resists him. No court order is required to do this, he just decides.

Justin Trudeau can even dictate what you do for a living and how you do it. Today, Trudeau threatened to arrest tow truck drivers who refused to tow the trucks of protesters. Is this really about stopping the spread of coronavirus? No one in Canada is even pretending that it is anymore. Trudeau himself didn't mention the risk of COVID a single time yesterday. He's not worried about unvaccinated truckers spreading a virus. Trudeau is worried about Canadians resisting his rule.

. . .

In a dictatorship, the only real crime is opposing the regime. So how did all this happen so quickly in a country as nice and moderate as Canada? Well it happened the way that it always happened. It happened with maximum aggression and limited popular support. Justin Trudeau won reelection last year with less than a third of the national vote. In fact, he finished the election behind his main competitor, the Conservative Party. Thanks to quirks in the parliamentary system, Trudeau took power anyway, and he immediately began to crack down on anyone who opposed him. Trudeau had relatively few supporters, but they turned out to be the right supporters. They were the people with power.

. . .

Leaders like Biden and Trudeau avoid the usual tells. They don't use armies to invade other countries, for example. Instead, they promote color revolutions and control foreign governments from afar. That's exactly what they did in Ukraine, which became a far more repressive place once Joe Biden began running it, and he does run Ukraine. Make no mistake. That's what they do. This new class of dictators seizes power incrementally, through the bureaucracy. They never raise their voices. They don't wave their arms. They smile and they tell you they're protecting democracy and public health. They praise diversity, even as they demand conformity. They're entirely passive-aggressive. But they're no less dangerous. One morning you wake up and they've canceled your job and seized your bank account for the crime of disagreeing with them. This is the architecture of tyranny, and it's not just happening in Canada. It's happening here in the United States. It will be used against us. Bet on it.

There's more at the link.

I entirely agree with Mr. Carlson.  I note that Trudeau didn't act until after he'd first consulted with President Biden, who doubtless urged him to crack down precisely as he did.  I'm sure the President would love to do the same, and more, to those who oppose him in this country.

Canada is now at an existential point in its history.  Will its people meekly accept the domination of a tyrannical minority?  Or will they continue to resist, and oppose oppression, and eventually triumph?  I hope and pray that the "trucker rebellion" will continue, and be victorious.  If it isn't, the alternative is, as George Orwell warned us:

"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—for ever."

The boot may be disguised with layers of laws and regulations and sweet talk, but it'll still be a boot.

Winston Churchill understood this well.  Here are several quotations in which he made the alternatives starkly clear.

"A state of society where men may not speak their minds cannot long endure."

"Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in, except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."

"One ought never to turn one’s back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half. Never run away from anything. Never!"

"If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory because it is better to perish than to live as slaves."

"Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb."

These are the choices facing Canadians right now, this very day.  They're also the choices facing us in the United States.  How we respond will determine whether the wisdom shown by our Founding Fathers will endure, or be thrown on the garbage heap of history.

Tucker Carlson is right.  If we do not act, if we do not resist, Canadian-style tyranny will, indeed, come to America.  What are you, personally, prepared to do about that?  Don't answer here - but think about it, and make your choice, then make your plans, because resistance will be necessary.  The forces of "woke" tyranny won't allow us to resist without trying to crush us.

Peter

In Memoriam: Patrick Jake O'Rourke

 

Humorist, war correspondent, writer and columnist P. J. O'Rourke has died at the age of 74.  Often labeled as a conservative or right-winger, he was far from the stereotypical images evoked by those labels, carving out his own niche and unafraid to criticize those on the right as much (and as pungently) as he did those on the left, when they deserved it.  His books gave me great pleasure over the years, particularly his classic "Parliament of Whores: A Lone Humorist Attempts to Explain the Entire U.S. Government".  If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

He was iconic of his generation, and associated with many of the most familiar names in journalism, entertainment and politics;  yet he was always his own man, impossible to pin down and force into a political pigeonhole.

Let's remember him with one of his most memorable quotes:

"I have often been called a Nazi, and, although it is unfair, I don't let it bother me. I don't let it bother me for one simple reason. No one has ever had a fantasy about being tied to a bed and ravished by someone dressed as a liberal."

Somewhere up there, the angels are laughing, I'm sure.

Peter

Check your prescription meds for shortages, and stock up if necessary

 

The FDA publishes a list of the medications currently experiencing shortages in the USA.  Some are commonly used, and a shortage may pose a serious, even life-threatening risk to their users (e.g. injectable epinephrine, used in applications like the well-known Epipen and similar products to treat cardiac arrest, anaphylaxis [allergic reactions], etc. - four different versions of that medication are currently listed as being in short supply).

Miss D. and I are fortunate in that none of our prescribed medications currently appear on that list - but some have in the past, and others may pop up there in future.  There are currently 114 medications on the list, which is a pretty scary number if you're likely to need one of them.  I keep a careful watch on the list, and also strive to maintain at least a 180-day reserve supply of our vital medications (which I'd like to stretch further, but right now that's not possible).

If you don't have a reserve supply of a medication critical to your health and well-being, I strongly suggest that you take steps to build up a reserve as quickly as possible.  You won't be able to charge it to your medical insurance, but if you can pay cash for it, your medical practitioner may be willing to write you a prescription for an extra 90-day supply, and explain to your pharmacy why you want it.  (That's how I built up Miss D.'s and my reserves.)  You can also buy some prescription medications from animal medication vendors;  azithromycin or doxycycline for animals is the same drug as for humans, and often produced to the same quality standards.  (Do your homework on that!)  Finally, some medications can be obtained outside the USA for much lower prices than within our borders.  Many people shop at pharmacies in Mexico, or have friends do so, or order by mail from pharmacies even further afield.  It's illegal, but it happens, and I haven't heard of US Customs officers doing anything to stop such medications coming over the border in personal-use quantities.  (Even the airports in Mexico have vending machines offering medications that are hard to find in the USA, at far lower prices.)

In these days of supply chain blockages and sudden shortages, you don't want to be caught short of life-supporting medications.  This should be one of the highest-priority items on your list of emergency preparations.  It's even more important when you consider that almost the entire US drug-manufacturing industry has been outsourced to China.  Given geopolitical tensions on top of the supply chain crunch, our medication supplies could be interrupted at any time.

Peter