China on the economic downslope?

Ambrose Evans-Pritchard thinks so.

... the Communist Party has once again let rip with debt-driven stimulus for the housing market and rust-bowl industries already chocking with overcapacity, stoking yet another mini-cycle to put off the day of reckoning.

The likelihood that China will fail to grasp the nettle of reform in time to avert a structural crisis is rising from probable to almost certain. As the well-meaning premier Li Keqiang keeps warning his colleagues in the Standing Committee, the current course leads straight into the middle income trap.

We can put away those charts projecting China's 'sorpasso', the moment when the country overtakes the US to become the world's biggest economy. It is not going to happen in 2020, and will look even less likely in 2030, when China's demographic dividend turns to deficit and the workforce goes into precipitous decline.

. . .

China is basically in a 'debt-deflation' trap. Earnings have been dropping more quickly than nominal interest rates, automatically tightening the noose. "The ability of many Chinese listed firms to service their debt obligations is eroding," it said.

The ratio of gross debt to earnings (EBITDA) has doubled to four since 2010. Debt at risk - where earnings do not cover interest payments - has risen from 4pc to 14pc in five years. It has reached 39pc for steel, 35pc for mining and retail, and 18pc for manufacturing and transport. 

. . .

Debt in China is still growing faster than the economy. The government has had its foot on the pedal since last July, rattled by the unexpected recession of early 2015 (which it never admitted). This reached a crescendo with a 23pc rise in lending to a record $650bn in January and February. The Communist Party has been reaching for the bottle again.

The total debt ratio has jumped by 10 percentage points of GDP  in the last year to 260pc. Most new credit is rolling over old debt, and the rest is subject to steeply diminishing returns as the economy nears debt exhaustion.

Fitch Ratings says the efficiency of credit - the extra yuan of GDP growth generated by each extra yuan of debt - has collapsed by two-thirds to a ratio of 0.2 since the lending spree began in 2009. The risks are rising exponentially for little gain. Beijing is buying time in a Faustian Pact that grows more dangerous every month.

. . .

It was always wishful thinking to suppose that Xi Jinping could deliver a "free-market  with Chinese characteristics" whilst maintaining the tight grip of Leninist party control over politics.

The China Development Research Council - brain trust of the reformers - warned that this was impossible, telling him that the shift up development ladder to high-tech growth requires an open, free-thinking society, and an end to top-down rule.  Xi had to choose between the two: he has picked Leninism.

. . .

The IMF warns that [China's] M2 money supply is an eye-watering 200pc of GDP, or $20 trillion. If confidence buckles again, outflows of just a fraction of this money could easily swamp the reserve buffers and force a devaluation of such magnitude that it would break the back of the global trading system.

My fear is that China's latest stop-go cycle will roll over just as inflation rears its ugly head in the US and the Federal Reserve starts to tighten in earnest.  That would be frightening. Storm protection for 2017 might be a wise precaution.

There's more at the link.

Looks like the Chinese government is making the same mistake as governments throughout the First World (including the USA and European Union):  disregarding basic mathematics in favor of political philosophies.  Mathematics is not an art, not a guessing game - it's a science.  Sooner or later, the numbers will add up to their inevitable conclusion, despite anything and everything the politicians can do to prevent that.  I think the lesson taught by King Canute has been lost on them.

Peter

Stephan Pastis sums up the 2016 presidential election

Yesterday's Pearls Before Swine strip says it all:

Amen, brother!

Peter

Flying the MQ-9 Reaper

Here's an inside look at how the US Air Force's MQ-9 Reaper drones are controlled in action.

Peter

"Is your computer making you blind?"

That's the title of an article in the New York Post.  Here's an excerpt.

A 2016 study from optical trade association the Vision Council found that 60 percent of people use digital devices for five or more hours a day — up from just more than one-third of Americans in 2012. The same study found that 65 percent of people experience vision problems including dry eyes, irritation or blurred vision after spending time in front of digital devices.

And according to eye doctors, the more time logged in front of screens, the worse the symptoms get: Lock eyes with any overachiever and you’ll likely notice an involuntary twitch, known as an “accommodative spasm.”

Even more alarming: You might be prematurely aging your eyes. “With the advent of cellphones, tablets and laptops, we’re seeing people in their 20s and 30s with eye issues that used to be exclusive to people in their 60s and 70s,” says Dr. Richard Norden of Ridgewood, NJ-based Norden Laser Eye Associates. “Screen time is absolutely the culprit.”

While eye-twitching and headaches can be reversed by taking a digital break, Norden has noticed his patients’ prescriptions can permanently worsen depending on how much time they spend with their devices.

“It used to be an old wives’ tale that staring too long at something, like a page while reading, would make you nearsighted,” he says. “But now that isn’t the case.”

The reason? Overuse of the ciliary muscle, an eye muscle that changes shape depending on whether you look at something up close or far away. “Lock” the muscle in one position for too long — what happens when you stare at a screen or read an old-fashioned book for hours — and it suffers.

There's more at the link.  Highly recommended reading.

As a writer, I spend more than half my waking hours in front of my computer.  Here's what I do to minimize eyestrain:

1. I keep my eyes well lubricated.  I use moisturizing eye drops two or three times every day, and eye ointment every time I sleep.  (I wipe my eyes with a facecloth dipped in hot water when I wake up - that clears away the residual 'smeared vision' effect of the ointment.)  If I forego this routine for even a day or two, I get problems with dry eyes, up to and including keratitis (which is no fun at all!).
2. I use the f.lux app, which changes the light emitted by my screen depending on the time of day, reducing eye strain.
3. I try to remember to get up, stretch and look around every twenty minutes to half an hour, allowing my eyes to focus on things further away than my screen.  I can feel the difference when I fail to do this for an extended work session - my eyes become scratchy and tired.

The article has some good information and useful hints.

Peter

More about the .22LR's defensive capability

A couple of years ago I wrote about the ".22LR as a defensive round".  I argued that the lowly .22 was underrated for self-defense purposes, and that with good ammunition and proper shot placement, it could still serve that purpose.  I recommended CCI Velocitor as my primary choice of ammunition for that application.

Now, courtesy of Wirecutter, we find this video, illustrating what happens when that round is shot into a chuck roast at 300 yards' range.  The results are impressive, and (I think) bear out my earlier recommendations.  See for yourself.  (I recommend watching in full-screen mode for best results.)

Admittedly, those shots were fired from a rifle, not a handgun:  but their reduced velocity at long range was less than the same bullet would attain if fired from a handgun at defensive distances.  That's outstanding performance for such a small round.

Peter

Watching death coming towards you - and filming it

This just boggles my mind.

Clem Schultz was sure the tornado weather forecasters were warning about was going to miss him, but he knew based on experience his Fairdale home would lose electricity.

So he went to an upstairs bedroom to get camping lanterns he and his wife, Geri, would surely be using early on the evening of April 9 last year.

He looked out a window and spotted a tornado to the west. He speculated it would stay south of his community, population around 150, about 19 miles northwest of DeKalb. He decided to record its passage on his cellphone camera.

But that black monster had other intentions, hopping the railroad tracks a block away.

There was no time for the 85-year-old to hurry back downstairs to the kitchen where Geri was. There was no point in getting in the cellar, which was basically a hole barely big enough to hold their furnace.

In an instant the tornado passed right through -- literally -- his house. Schultz rode the debris from the collapsing chimney down, losing his grip on the phone, getting entangled in a bedsheet, and becoming buried.

There's more at the link.

Mr. Schulz's wife died in the tornado.  Here's what killed her.

If I'd been filming, I'd never have been able to forgive myself for not seeking shelter for myself and my wife instead . . .

Peter

Those @#$%& cats again!

That's the title of a 2005 thread I posted on a firearms forum about my cats and their sometimes annoying attraction to firearm parts and accessories.  My first thread, from 2002, aroused a fair bit of amusement;  this added to it.  Fortunately, I kept a copy in my archives, so by reader request, here it is.  (Remember, it's from 2005.)

You may recall my earlier misfortunes with my gun-lovin' cats... see here if you didn't read it before.

Anyway, in celebration of my recent (and so far successful) back surgery, which will hopefully allow me to get back to shooting by mid-year (after being banned by my doctors from shooting anything except .22 rimfire since February last year), I decided that tonight would be a good night to sort out a couple of batches of shootin' ammo from my locker. Everything's packaged in ammo cans, boxes, etc. in the locker, and I wanted to get out several hundred .223's, .308's and 12ga. shells to load into magazines and/or bandoliers.

So, I started out by removing the ammo cans, putting out some plastic containers on the kitchen counter, and dumping out the rounds into the plastic containers. 500 .223's in this one, 200 .308's in that one, and so on. So far, so good. My cats were most curious about all this, of course, and were investigating the open-topped plastic containers, sniffing away furiously and generally being cats.

I was putting the open plastic container of .308 on a shelf in my ammo locker, prior to loading up magazines, when I heard this clinking sound from the counter. Looking around, I saw CJ, my ginger cat, squatting in the pile of .223 rounds, seemingly about to do No. 1 or No. 2 right in there! (I can't for the life of me see any resemblance between kitty litter and Federal XM193, but perhaps it's a cat thing...) Needless to say, I yelled at her, and she jumped guiltily and leaped from the counter.

Unfortunately, in jumping and leaping, she imparted a certain acceleration to the plastic container, which was already half-off the countertop (my fault, that, for pulling and pushing at it while dumping rounds into it). So, the container fell off the counter, turning neatly inverted on its way down, and depositing 500 rounds of .223 all over my kitchen floor.

I sort of roared in anguish, and stepped over to the counter - but I'd forgotten that I'd left a container of .308 perched half-way onto the shelf in my ammo locker. Do I have to tell you what happened next? No, I don't, you've guessed it - the container of .308 also fell to the ground, and I now had 200 rounds of .308 on my floor to add to the 500 rounds of .223 already there!

To add insult to injury, the cats' litter box is next to my ammo locker, and several dozen .308 rounds ended up in the litter box. Since this was due for cleaning later tonight, it was a bit ripe... and after fishing out the cartridges with my trusty litter scoop, so were they! Funny to have Hirtenberger military surplus ammo smelling like kitty pee... I don't know what they're going to say at the range.

An hour later, I've just finished picking up all 700 rounds of ammo (except for a couple that seem to have lost themselves under the dishwasher... I'll get them in the morning!) The cats have had a wonderful evening batting rattly, rolling cartridges all over the kitchen floor, to their daddy's despair and rude commentary, and I still have to load up magazines...

Ah, well... Smile, they said, things could get worse - so I did, and they did!

Peter

Doofus Of The Day #899

Today's award goes to an over-enthusiastic and under-trained policeman in Pakistan.

A hand grenade exploded inside courtroom in Karachi’s Anti-Terrorism Court (ATC) after a judge asked a police constable if he knew how grenades worked.

The constable, instead of explaining his expertise in weapons and grenade handling to the judge, opted to demonstrate practically by promptly pulling out the pin from the grenade.

This resulted in a loud explosion, injuring five including the judge, the constable and a court clerk.

. . .

It is safe to say that now the whole court knows how grenades work, including the curious judge.

According to authorities, the constable who apparently knows how grenades work will be punished severely after he recovers from his injuries.

There's more at the link.

Sounds like a triumph of optimism and enthusiasm over (in)experience!  A tip o' the hat to reader M. J. for sending me the link.

Peter

That's not a fish

According to the Telegraph:

Lance Burgos was enjoying a camping trip in Lake Fausse Pointe State Park with his two girls when he thought he had snared a catfish in one of the waterways with his "noodle" - the submerged device widely used in southern US for catching the creatures.

It wasn't a catfish.

So tell me, who was fishing for whom there?  I know that area.  It's home to some of the largest alligators in Louisiana, if not the USA as a whole, rivaling those found in the Florida Everglades.  Not a place I'd want to go kayak-fishing with my two young children - and certainly not without a suitable firearm!

Peter

Half a bike?

I've got to give this guy full marks for ingenuity.

The halbrad [shown below] looks like a regular bike that’s missing its front half. It’s about one meter [39 inches] high and 79 cm [31 inches] long.

Its handlebars are located underneath the saddle, so to steer, riders must sit up straight and hold their hands below their thighs - allowing them to turn the tiny front wheel attached to a rod that descends from the saddle.

Felix Kruschardt, creator of the halbrad, came up with the idea based on his past work as an orthopaedic technician.

“The rods of wheelchairs fitted perfectly to the ones you get on bikes. I just welded them together,” he explained to The Local.

“Me and my friends managed to ride this first home-made halbrad.”

The Berlin-based inventor says that users can comfortably ride at up to 28km/h - or at a walking pace alongside friends on foot.

Kruschardt adds that the bike’s low weight and small size make it one of the lightest bikes on the market at just 9 kilos [20 pounds].

There's more at the link.

Here's a video of the inventor displaying his new toy.

I suppose that, in overcrowded German cities, this compact space-saving bike would actually make a lot of sense.  I'm not so sure about its practicality if you want to take home a bag of shopping, though . . .

Peter

The US pension "black hole"

We've spoken before in these pages about the crisis in US pension funding.  For example, consider these three articles:

Of pensions, unions, politicians and corruption

"As California goes, so goes the nation"

If you're planning to retire soon, READ THIS!!!

It therefore comes as no surprise to learn that the US pension crisis is, in fact, far worse than previously estimated.  The Financial Times reports:

The US public pension system has developed a $3.4tn funding hole that will pile pressure on cities and states to cut spending or raise taxes to avoid Detroit-style bankruptcies.

According to academic research ... the collective funding shortfall of US public pension funds is three times larger than official figures showed, and is getting bigger.

Devin Nunes, a US Republican congressman, said: “It has been clear for years that many cities and states are critically underfunding their pension programmes and hiding the fiscal holes with accounting tricks.”

Mr Nunes, who put forward a bill to the House of Representatives last month to overhaul how public pension plans report their figures, added: “When these pension funds go insolvent, they will create problems so disastrous that the fund officials assume the federal government will have to bail them out.”

Large pension shortfalls have already played a role in driving several US cities, including Detroit in Michigan and San Bernardino in California, to file for bankruptcy. The fear is other cities will soon become insolvent due to the size of their pension deficits.

Joshua Rauh, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution, a think-tank, and professor of finance at the Stanford Graduate School of Business, who carried out the study, said: “The pension problems are threatening to consume state and local budgets in the absence of some major changes.

“It is quite likely that over a five to 10-year horizon we are going to see more bankruptcies of cities where the unfunded pension liabilities will play a large role.”

There's more at the link.

Even if you don't expect to retire soon, if you're living in a city or state bedeviled by underfunded pensions, the problem is going to land right in your lap, because local and even state governments are likely to end up effectively bankrupted by it.  Every other service they offer will be affected by the shortfall, which will soak up all their available funds to rectify the problem - unless the pension deficit is simply legislated out of existence, or the government entities concerned default on their obligations.

As for "fund officials assume the federal government will have to bail them out" - fuhgeddabahtit!  I'm sure the left-wing, progressive arc of US politics will try to ensure that happens, but that merely spreads the misery - and the future financial burden - onto every US taxpayer, whether or not they bear any responsibility for it.  That's anything but fair, and I think if they try, the backlash from taxpayers will be extreme (at least, I hope it will).

Keep your eye on this issue, folks.  It's yet another harbinger that, economically speaking, we're riding for a fall.

Peter

Coffin varnish, jig juice and sudden death

Those are among the names given to various concoctions purporting to be "whiskey" in the Old West.  As part of the research for my forthcoming Western novel (and the series I hope will follow from the first book), I've had to study a great many aspects of the period. One of the more entertaining (and sometimes nauseating) areas of study was saloons, and the availability and use of alcohol.

A very interesting and authoritative source for such information is Jeremy Agnew's "Alcohol and Opium in the Old West: Use, Abuse and Influence".

I thought I knew a lot about home-made alcohol after my experience as a prison chaplain, having encountered some of the nauseating concoctions brewed up by convicts using garbage bags, fruit, moldy bread and the like.  However, it looks like they've got nothing on the Old West!  Here's what Mr. Agnew has to say about 'Bogus Whiskey'.

Whiskey in the Old West was not always the legitimate product. Though saloon liquor was sold as bourbon whiskey, its true origin might have been in the backroom of the saloon. The liquor might be homemade because of a shortage of real whiskey or, in many cases, due to the desire of an unethical saloon owner to increase his profits. Sometimes genuine distillery whiskey was simply watered down to make it go further and then colored with a little tea or tobacco juice to bring it back to a semblance of its original color. This practice extended the number of servings and could yield drinks at the bar of three or four times the original quantity of alcohol, hence raising the profits for the saloon owner.

Bogus whiskey was made by starting with raw ethyl alcohol, then adding various adulterants to flavor and color it until the result could fool inexperienced drinkers. Some of the additives used to give raw alcohol the general appearance and taste of whiskey were chewing tobacco, tea, coffee, red pepper, prune juice, gunpowder, and tree bark. In addition, burnt sugar, molasses, sagebrush, black bone meal, or dried peaches might be added to give color and flavor. The ingredients for some of these homemade whiskeys were bizarre. Even less-conventional chemical ingredients, such as tartaric acid, sulfuric acid, ammonia, strychnine, turpentine, or creosote, might find their way into the brew to give it a little bite. Though these additives may sound humorous, the side effects of drinking them could cause serious harm to the unwary recipient, and drinkers occasionally even died as a result of ingesting them. The practice of adding noxious chemicals became so common and so bad that on June 6, 1857, Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper (one of the leading national newsmagazines of the time) reported that the Ohio legislature had banned the use of strychnine in manufacturing liquor.

As a result of these peculiar mixtures, counterfeit booze packed a powerful jolt, leading to a variety of colorful names that were attached to them. Among the pet names for whiskey on the frontier was “forty-rod.” This peculiar name came from the belief that the drinker could expect to travel about forty rods (220 yards, or an eighth of a mile) before the booze took hold and he collapsed.

Other “drinks” might be counterfeited in a similar manner. One recipe described how to produce fine “Irish whiskey” by adding a half-pint of creosote to a barrel of raw alcohol. Bogus “wine” might consist of watered-down alcohol with the appropriate coloring and flavoring, such as cherries or prunes. “Brandy” could be made from a half-barrel of alcohol, with grape juice, burnt sugar, sulfuric acid, and tobacco added to provide color and flavoring. Some “brandies” were produced by simply adding grape juice to a raw alcohol base. In Leadville and Denver, in Colorado, in 1879, some drinkers became quite inebriated on a low-alcohol mixture of brown sugar, water, and yeast that was sold as “champagne cider” for five dollars a quart. One of the more peculiar additives to “whiskey” was rattlesnake heads. Some peddlers of bogus booze and patent medicines were known to add a half-dozen or so to a barrel of counterfeit whiskey in order to “add power to the liquor.” The resulting brew was sometimes known as “snakehead whiskey.”

Because drinkers could not be certain what was in the fancy bottles at the bar, customers applied a series of tests to determine if the brew was true. Liquor “experts” knowingly ordered “sink-taller whiskey,” because they believed that a piece of tallow (beef or mutton fat) would float in whiskey that had been diluted or had a low alcohol content but would sink in liquor with a high alcohol content. Others felt that they were able to determine the strength of the liquor by studying the bead, which was the bubbles that formed at the surface when the liquor was shaken. When whiskey of good quality was shaken, it produced a bead at the top. The longer the bead was present, the higher the proof. Real experts knew that half of a true bead would stay in the liquor and half would float on top. If all the bead floated on top it was probably due to soap, which was often added to counterfeit whiskey to produce the appearance of a good bead.

Another test for quality was to throw a little of the liquor onto a fire to see how high the flames flared, similar to the British seaman’s test for proof. This test was the origin of the Indian name of “firewater” for whiskey with a high alcohol content. This was indeed a reasonable test, but had to be performed with care. On June 22, 1881, a bartender inspecting the inside of a barrel of whiskey at the Arcade Saloon on Allen Street in Tombstone, Arizona, inadvertently brought a lighted cigar too close to the fumes. The whiskey must have been good stuff because it ignited. The resulting fire destroyed four city blocks of the downtown area and leveled sixty-six businesses.

. . .

The Indians had their own ideas about whiskey and as long as the “whiskey” they traded for met these expectations, the drink was considered to be good. One preconceived notion was that they felt liquor had to be strong enough to make them throw up, and they figured that it wasn’t any good unless it did. Unscrupulous white traders soon realized that various additives could make the Indians just as sick without wasting good alcohol. To achieve this when they made their “whiskey,” they added a bar of soap— which also produced a good bead at the surface— or some tobacco, both of which induced vomiting in the drinker. Traders developed various recipes of their own for Indian “whiskey.” One consisted of a gallon of raw alcohol, three gallons of water, and a pound of tea or black tobacco to give the mixture the correct color. Ginger and a handful of red peppers went into the mix to give it a kick. One variation was to add a quart of blackstrap molasses to the mixture and call the resulting mixture “rum.” As well as trading with the Indians, the same traders foisted this “rum” off on the mountain men at their annual rendezvous.

There's much more interesting information in Mr. Agnew's book, and in his other volumes dealing with different aspects of the Old West.  Recommended reading for history buffs, and outstanding source material for authors.

Peter

"How Spain gets rid of stupid people"

That was the title of an e-mail I received yesterday, containing the link to this video.  It seems very appropriate!

Peter

A musical salute to Chinese-food-motivated SJW's

In a comment to my previous post on this matter, reader LittleRed1 asked:

Can we sneak onto campus with a sound truck and serenade them with "Cat's in the Kettle (at the Peking Moon)"?

No sooner said than done!

One of Weird Al Yankovic's finest parodies, IMHO.

Peter

A person after my own heart

Courtesy of the Vulgar Curmudgeon:

Gotta love that sense of humor!




Peter

Close call!

Just goes to show . . . when a wildfire strikes, get the heck out of there before it's too late.  Your guardian angel - in this case, a passing TV crew - may not get there in time.

I think he made it out of there by the proverbial skin of his teeth.  They all did.

Peter

Who says cats don't have a sense of humor?

Last night I posted the latest Simon's Cat cartoon.  In a comment to that post, reader Raven asked:

A long while back you wrote a post about your cat, or a friends, can't remember - it was about the cat making off with a small gun part while you had it disassembled - do you have a link to it? I about spit out my beer laughing!

That was a long time ago - in fact, it was several years before I began this blog, on a firearms forum to which I belonged at the time.  As luck would have it, I kept an archived copy of that post.  Per Raven's request, here it is.

Well, a friend arrived this evening, asking for my help in disassembling and cleaning his newly-acquired 1911. It had a full-length guide rod and a somewhat modified barrel bushing, and took quite a bit of effort to disassemble. I told him to ditch the guide rod and go back to JMB's good ol' short rod, which he agreed to do, and I gave him the necessary parts from my spares box.

All was going well until we came to reassembly of the pistol. He was doing this himself, with some supervision from me, so that he could get used to it. Unfortunately, he dropped the barrel bushing: and CJ, my ginger cat, decided that this rolling, bouncing thing was just the best toy since the invention of catnip. Before we could stop her, she'd grabbed the thing in her mouth and darted out of the kitchen door.

Tim and I pursued her, me calling fruitlessly and he cursing fruitfully (if you know what I mean). She ran straight through the living-room into my bedroom, and disappeared under the bed. Tim and I ended up lying on either side of the bed, whispering (profane) sweet nothings in her ear, and trying to reach her to get the bushing. We were just about there when Tim got impatient, and made a swipe at the bushing. He made contact, but knocked it out the bottom of the bed - to be met by my other cat, Calico, who had been most curious about the new toy her housemate had been playing with. Calico promptly seized the bushing and ran out of the bedroom.

Tim and I hoisted ourselves to our feet, grunting, and took off after Calico, hotly pursued by an indignant CJ. Calico disappeared into my study, and took refuge in my open gun safe - underneath the lowest shelf in one side of it, squeezing in behind a box of magazines.

I pulled out the box of magazines, and Tim reached in to grab cat and/or bushing. Calico, feeling unduly put upon by this strange man, promptly bit and scratched his hand. Tim recoiled, using a few words that he wouldn't normally use in the presence of a man of the cloth, and as I stooped to reach into the safe myself, out came Calico at high speed, shot between Tim's legs, and disappeared out of the door. Needless to say, she took the bushing with her...

Tim and I pursued her through the living-room and back into the kitchen, where she hid behind the fridge. While Tim moved the fridge out from the wall a bit, I made ready to reach into the hollow where the motor sits, and grab Calico: but as soon as the fridge moved, she ran for it again, between my legs and out of the kitchen door into the living-room. Here she dropped the bushing, apparently feeling tired of the fun - but CJ was watching, and promptly grabbed it again, and ended up under my bed once more.

After much puffing, panting and swearing, we finally managed to block off the bottom of the bed, and with one of us on either side of the bed, finally managed to persuade CJ that her toy really wasn't worth the effort. Triumphant, Tim grabbed the bushing, and he and I stood up and dusted ourselves off. As we did so, the noise of several things dropping to the floor was heard from the kitchen. We looked at each other in horror, and raced through - to find that while we were busy with CJ, Calico had pawed the slide, frame, barrel, etc. off the table onto the floor, and was disappearing behind the fridge with the recoil spring in her mouth!

We picked up and secured the other bits of the gun, and then went after the recoil spring. Eventually, after further misadventures, we managed to get hold of it. We ended up taking over an hour to reassemble the pistol! I've never experienced a longer, more frustrating reassembly! Still, my cats enjoyed themselves.

In another forum thread a few years later, I recounted feline misadventures with ammo supplies (involving the same cats).  I'll have to see if I can dig that one up, too.

Cats - gotta love 'em . . . or let them love on us, as Dork Tower illustrates:

Peter

A new Simon's Cat!

Giggle time.

Peter

Social Justice Warriors getting their wookie on again

I note with displeasure that the perpetually offended among us are getting all worked up about a poem in the New Yorker.

Eighty-year-old Calvin Trillin's “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?", which was published in the latest issue of The New Yorker, takes as its subject the vast variety of Chinese food available today.

... The poem begins:

Have they run out of provinces yet?
If they haven’t, we’ve reason to fret.
Long ago, there was just Cantonese.
(Long ago, we were easy to please.)
But then food from Szechuan came our way,
Making Cantonese strictly passé.

It goes on to list all the different cuisines of China which have become popular in recent years, and laments the stress of keeping up with changing trends:

Now, as each brand-new province appears
It brings tension, increasing our fears
Could a place we extolled as a find
Be revealed as one province behind?

Commentators were quick to criticise Trillin, with the novelist Celeste Ng saying that the poem could be interpreted as asking “Why are there so many kinds of Chinese people?”

Old racist white man tosses off rhyming hate speech, then defends it. Time to shuffle off, #CalvinTrillin. https://t.co/UGMLBTk6iA
    — Jinho Choi (@GoldenTalon) April 7, 2016

white man expresses distress that Chinese food is so diverse. More self-centred white indulgence at 6.
    https://t.co/w8Ky8Z58uk
    — Polly is a nice name (@__catpower) April 7, 2016

On  The Stranger website, Rich Smith called the poem "casually racist", writing: “This longing for a time of chow mein—which is, as I’m sure the food writer knows—a westernized dish—is a longing for the days of a white planet. Those days when we white people comfortably held power, when they made food for us, when the only fear was the fear of another cuisine to conquer, the days before we had to ask ourselves stuff like—does this poem rest on an unexamined racist sentiment?”

There's more at the link.  The offending (?) poem may be found here.

Personally, I found the poem very amusing - typical satire, directed at its Western audience rather than Chinese cuisine.  However, it seems that those of a more liberal or progressive bent are, indeed, bent out of shape about it.

Would I be guilty of racism if I accused Mr. Trillin's critics of being pointy-headed idiots with empty spaces where their brains need to be?  As far as I can see, I haven't used a single racist term in that sentence.  Your thoughts, readers?

Peter

Of hovercraft, eels and linguistics

Via e-mail this week, I was reminded of the Monty Python Hungarian phrase-book sketch.

It seems there's a Web site that has translated the key phrase into almost every language known to humankind (and some that may not be - known, that is).  Examples:

Amharic:  የኔ ማንዣበቢያ መኪና በእባቦች ተሞልቷል
(yäne manžabäbia mäkina bä'əbaboch tämoltwal) - ["snakes"]
(there is no word for eels in Amharic)

Gujarati:  મારું હોવેરક્રાફ્ટ ઈલ માછલીઓ થી ભરાઈ ગયું છે
(maru hovercraft eel machhalio thi bharay gayu chh)

Spanish:  Mi aerodeslizador está lleno de anguilas
(for those Spring Break trips to Mexico)

Yiddish:  מײַן פּראָם (שוועבשיף) איז פֿול מיט ווענגערס
(Mayn prom (shveb-shif) iz ful mit vengers)
(for that special trip to Jerusalem)

There are many more at the link.

I wonder how many hours of effort went into compiling that (very exhaustive) list of translations?  I knew the Internet could be a time sink, but that has to be one of the more spectacular examples . . .

Peter

This app is going to be hacked in 3... 2... 1...

Of all the apps with which to challenge the hacker community, could there possibly be one more tempting than this?

New app logs mutual consent to sex

Hacked.  So hacked.  And p3wned, too.




Peter

The US Cavalry in the Old West

As part of researching my Western novel, I spent a lot of time looking into the activities of the US Army on the post-Civil-War frontier.  It features in my first book in that genre, and will play a larger one in subsequent volumes, if I'm spared to write them.

I thought you might like to learn something about the US Cavalry on the plains.  This short video documentary doesn't go into a lot of detail, but it's pretty accurate.

Under the circumstances, it's astonishing that the cavalry achieved so much!

Peter

I wish I could afford them . . .

Aren't these pistols magnificent?  Click the image for a larger view.

They belonged to the Marquis de Lafayette.  Christie's will auction them on April 13th in New York.  They say of them:

‘Every once in a while, we are lucky enough to work with something at Christie’s that connects us to the giants of history, so that they jump off the pages of the history books and seem alive,’ says Christie’s specialist Becky MacGuire. ‘These pistols are a perfect example, serving as a link between three revolutionary heroes: George Washington, the Marquis de Lafayette and Simón Bolívar.’

Having come from France to join the American Revolution at just 19 years old, Lafayette quickly attracted the attention of George Washington, who became his mentor. Years later, in 1825, Lafayette presented the pistols he had brought with him to another revolutionary: Simón Bolívar, who had dedicated his life to liberating six South American countries.

Intricately decorated, the pistols were made by Nicolas-Noël Boutet, the gunsmith to Napoleon. ‘These are treasures of a kind that we see really rarely,’ continues MacGuire. ‘These men shared a real zeal and a commitment to their ideals, which changed the world forever; these pistols are an embodiment of that’.

Christie's expect the pistols to sell for between US $1.5 and $2.5 million.  That's just a wee bit outside my price range . . .

(Sigh)

Peter

Putting on airs . . . and guns?

I always figured gunfire was a means of (absolutely) last resort to solve a (usually criminal) problem . . . but it seems that two Spanish gypsy clans aren't as abstemious.

A gun battle broke out between feuding neighbours in southern Spain after one broke wind within earshot of another.

The fracas erupted between gypsy clans in eastern Spain when a member of one family let rip while walking past a young man from the rival family shortly before midnight on Sunday, local newspaper Diario Informacion reported.

The young man returned the insult in the same way; by farting in his direction.

The situation quickly escalated with a wife of one the men joining the fray claiming she was insulted, and then the other man’s wife also getting involved, until guns were pulled and shots fired.

. . .

The neighbourhood is home to a large number of gitano families and the two clans involved in the scrap have been sworn enemies for decades, local media reported.

There's more at the link.

Seems rather daft to me, but I understand such feuds in the Spanish Romani community are a bit like the Hatfields versus the McCoys in Appalachia . . . they go on forever.  (I'm reliably informed that the latter feud, although officially over for decades, has been known to resurface now and again.)  However, notwithstanding historical antagonism, I've seldom heard of a more stupid reason for a gunfight!


Peter

Why use a publisher for my Western series?

Since mentioning yesterday that I'm discussing a three-novel contract for my proposed Western series with a prospective publisher, I've received several questions (both in blog comments and via e-mail) asking why I don't just self-publish them, and why I'd want to go with a publisher when it means less money than I can make by doing it all myself.  There are a number of reasons, and for the benefit of those who are writers or considering entering the field, I thought I'd go into a little more detail.

First and foremost, yes, under current financial arrangements one can make quite a lot more money by self-publishing than by going through a typical publisher.  Please note the emphasis in that sentence.  Amazon.com offers exceptionally good terms to authors who are prepared to 'go exclusive' with the company, including a 70% share of the sales price of one's book(s) within a certain price range, the opportunity to enroll them in the company's Kindle Unlimited subscription lending library, and so on.  All my existing books are sold in that way, and I'll happily continue to release books through Amazon.com as an independent author/publisher.

Nevertheless, there's always the risk that Amazon might change the terms of its service.  It's done so before, and can do so again as it pleases.  It's their playground, and they make the rules.  The rest of us play there on sufferance.  I don't think Amazon has any plans to drastically change its terms of service at this time, but who knows what tomorrow may bring?  For that reason, I think it's not a bad idea at all to diversify, and offer one's books on other platforms or through other channels as well.

The publisher with whom I'm talking at present is a relatively small operation, geared towards e-books with a secondary interest in print books, just as I presently operate on Amazon.com.  They pay very generous royalties by the standards of traditional publishing houses.  Sure, it's a lower percentage payout than I'd get through self-publishing, but on the other hand I'd gain access to their customer base (which is not insignificant) and receive their assistance in marketing my book to readers who might otherwise never hear of it.  If I can sell 5,000 books on my own at a 70% return, but double that quantity through a publisher whilst still earning better than half that rate of return, I'll make more money overall.  That's a trade-off I'm willing to try on for size.

There's also the reality that one good thing may lead to another.  There's another project in the works at present, about which I'm not yet at liberty to speak.  If it works out, I'll gain a small toehold in yet another publishing house, this one much better known and with much greater influence.  With luck and hard work, I might be able to expand that toehold into another meaningful outlet for my work in due course.  If I end up with three, or four, or five different ways to market and publish my books, I can tailor each one to the outlet where it's most likely to succeed, and benefit accordingly.

I certainly don't plan to stop self-publishing.  Maxwell Volume 5 and Laredo Volume 3 are both in preparation, and will (God willing) be published through Amazon.com's KDP Select program later this year.  I have no plans to transfer either series to another publisher.  However, I have more books and more series in mind.  Where might they take me?  We'll see . . .

Peter

A not-so-grand finale?

I've heard of a performance artist 'going out with a bang', but never before with a bite.

Indonesian pop singer Irma Bule died this week after being bitten by a snake used as an on-stage prop during a live performance on Sunday.

"The accident happened in the middle of the second song when Irma stepped on the snake's tail," audience member Ferlando Octavion Auzura told local website merdeka.com.

"The snake then bit Irma on the thigh."

. . .

It's thought that Bule believed the cobra had been defanged. She was well known for using snakes during live performances - a relatively common practice in the region - and had previously appeared with pythons and boa constrictors.

There's more at the link.

I'm sorry for Ms. Bule's death, but really!  Growing up in Africa, we learned early and often that if something has teeth and/or claws and/or fangs, it's not entertainment - in fact, you're more likely to provide entertainment (and sometimes a meal) for it than the other way round!




Peter

What a spectacular photograph!

C. W. Swanson put up this image on his blog this morning.

Talk about poetry in motion!  I'd love to know how the photographer managed to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to catch that shot.  You can see a bigger version at Mr. Swanson's blog.

Peter

Doofus Of The Day #898

This report truly boggles my mind.

AN investigation is underway after two students at an exclusive school were hospitalised when a production of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street became all too real.

The students from Auckland’s St Kentigern College were taken to hospital suffering neck wounds after the performance turned horribly wrong.

. . .

The play, set in Victorian London, contains scenes where the characters sitting in a barber’s chair have their throats slit with a cutthroat razor.

They are then dispatched through a trapdoor to be cut up into filling for meat pies.

There's more at the link.  A tip o' the hat to Australian reader Snoggeramus for sending me the link.


Would somebody please tell me why nobody thought to make sure that the 'stage' razors really were fakes, and in particular WEREN'T SHARPENED???


Ye Gods and little fishes . . .




Peter

Some exciting news is brewing

Remember the teaser chapter from my Western novel that I posted last Saturday, and my follow-up post about the feedback I received?

As a result of your feedback, I've decided to make my protagonist's speech less 'dialect' and 'vernacular', giving him a speech style typical of a high-school-educated Southern man of the Civil War era, but not the 'upper crust' of Southern society.  However, I'm going to leave the speech of those around him - former slaves, teamsters and drovers, cowboys, and so on - in the vernacular, partly as a contrast, partly for the authenticity I strive for, partly because the combination seems to work pretty well (according to feedback I've received on the changes so far).

What's more, as a result of posting that chapter, and your feedback, I've received an initial contract offer from a publisher for not just one, but three Westerns.  I'm discussing it with them at the moment.  They're excited about helping to revive a moribund genre, and I'm excited about being in on the ground floor of their efforts.  Things are looking very promising.  Expect an update within a few weeks about that, as events are moving surprisingly quickly.  I'm stoked!

Watch this space for more information.  (Puts on cowboy hat and spurs, twirls rope.)  Yee-haw!




Peter

Doofus Of The Day #897

Today's award goes to an overexposed Lothario in Germany.

Cops near the French border were conducting routine road checks when they stopped a man who who was making the most of the freedom of the open road.

To the officers' surprise, when they peered in the window of the delivery van, they realized the man was completely naked.

His explanation was logical enough. He was on his way to a brothel, a place where clothes are generally dispensed with quite rapidly.

On being questioned as to why he didn’t wait till he arrived to disrobe, the man couldn’t provide an answer.

More troubling to police was the fact that the man had no driver’s licence. He was told he would have to continue his journey on foot - but only after he’d put his clothes back on.

There's more at the link.

What a time for a license check - particularly since licentious behavior was very much on his mind!




Peter

Military menus with an Oriental touch

We've discussed military ration packs before in these pages (and the trials and tribulations of civilians who overdose on them!).  Most of us have distinctly un-fond memories of older types of ration pack, although I'm told that more recent versions are less unpalatable.

There's a new twist to the subject, though:  Far Eastern nations are introducing their own versions of MRE's - and they sound quite tasty.  Strategy Page reports:

Japan has finally agreed to replace its canned combat rations with the plastic pouch (MRE, Meal Ready to Eat) system pioneered by the United States. Japan is the last holdout for canned combat rations in East Asia.

. . .

There were cultural and historical factors at play here as well. During World War II Japan, although still a poor country by Western standards, had the most modern armed forces in East Asia. Although defeated, Japan continued to honor the sacrifices of its veterans (and ignore the many war crimes they committed against non-Japanese). One of the most notable sacrifices was food. Especially for Japanese troops who served in the Pacific (most were in China) the eventual American dominance of the waters between Japanese held islands meant a lot of Japanese troops got very hungry. Actually over half a million died from starvation or malnutrition. The survivors returned home to a devastated economy and went hungry for another decade along with most other Japanese. But by the 1970s the economy began to take off and superior food became a national obsession. This was especially true in the new Japanese military where the government and the voters did all they could to see that soldiers and sailors had the best food possible. That played a large role in tolerating canned combat rations for so long.

Another factor was the enthusiastic acceptance of MRE type rations by the Chinese and South Koreans, who are also fanatical about their food and managed to make MREs as tasty as the canned stuff. Since the 1990s the Chinese military has dramatically improved the quality of food it supplies to its troops in the field (outside their bases). At the base there are kitchens and traditionally cooked food. For centuries Chinese (along with Japanese and Korean) troops in the field used rice balls and various forms of preserved (smoked or salted) meat plus whatever they could catch or take locally. By the 1970s China began developing field rations similar to those used in the West during World War II and what the Japanese had long used. This included compressed biscuits (a Western staple for centuries) preserved with sealed plastic (shrink wrap) and some canned items. After the 1970s Chinese food researchers paid more attention to essential ingredients (vitamins, minerals and the right kinds and quantities of calories) for active military personnel. Since the late 1990s Chinese military food developers also paid more attention to taste, having noted that some of their previous food items were so unpalatable that troops would avoid eating them. The Chinese also developed special rations for troops operating at high altitudes (Tibet) or for extreme situations where high radiation levels are present. Japanese tourists noted all this and when the Internet arrived after 2000 Japanese troops could follow Chinese military food developments as well. Both Japanese civilians and soldiers began buying Chinese MREs (which manufacturers made available to civilians because of great curiosity and MREs were useful for outdoor activities and travelers).

There's more at the link.

I'll be interested to see how Far Eastern nations handle the issue of sauces and flavorings.  US MRE's typically offer salt, pepper, mustard, ketchup and Tabasco.  I wonder if Chinese equivalents will offer soy sauce, sweet-and-sour sauce and other typical offerings?  If so, I can see an awful lot of swapping going on during international deployments . . .

Peter

How do you say "Touched by his Noodly Appendage" in German?

I'm sure most readers are aware of the Pastafarian religion and its deity, the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

It seems the 'religion' is hitting a few obstacles in its expansion into Germany.

The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM) in Templin has filed charges against the state of Brandenburg over being able to post signs around town, with the first hearing set for Wednesday, according to the group.

The FSM church explained in a statement that in December, it had discussed with local authorities its status and agreed it could qualify as an "ideological community". They therefore had the right to post signs advertising their "noodle mass" - just as Protestant and Catholic churches advertise their own masses and gatherings with roadside signs.

Then, Brandenburg Culture Minister Sabine Kunst declared that because the spaghetti monster followers were not officially designated as a religious community, they would therefore have to remove the signs.

Worshippers saw no recourse but to bring the case to court.

"No matter what happens, the opposition has shot themselves in the foot," Brother Spaghettus, also known as Rüdiger Weida, told Jetzt, because either they will allow the signs to be set up again, "or we will take it to the next level court."

There's more at the link.

Personally, I'm all for a worshipful dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, washed down (of course) with a good German lager or pilsner.  However, I have to point out that Germany is the home of, not spaghetti, but spätzle noodles.  Would the latter be considered a suitably sacramental meal for a specifically spaghetti monster?  Or would they be considered an impasta?




Peter

In Memoriam: Chief Joe Medicine Crow

The last war chief of the Crow nation has died.

Joe Medicine Crow, an acclaimed historian from Montana's Crow Tribe, World War II veteran, and Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient, has died at the age of 102.

A member of the Crow Tribe's Whistling Water clan, Medicine Crow was raised by his grandparents in a log house in a rural area of the Crow Reservation near Lodge Grass, Montana.

His Crow name was "High Bird," and he recalled listening as a child to stories about the Battle of Little Bighorn from those who were there, including his grandmother's brother, White Man Runs Him, a scout for Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer.

His grandfather, Yellowtail, raised Medicine Crow to be a warrior. The training began when Medicine Crow was just 6 or 7, with a punishing physical regimen that included running barefoot in the snow to toughen the boy's feet and spirit.

Medicine Crow in 1939 became the first of his tribe to receive a master's degree, in anthropology. He served for decades as a Crow historian, cataloging his people's nomadic history by collecting firsthand accounts of pre-reservation life from fellow tribal members.

During World War II, Medicine Crow earned the title of war chief after performing a series of daring deeds, including stealing horses from an enemy encampment and hand-to-hand combat with a German soldier whose life Medicine Crow ultimately spared.

Soon after returning from the European front, Medicine Crow was designated tribal historian by the Crow Tribal Council.

With his prodigious memory, Medicine Crow could accurately recall decades later the names, dates and exploits from the oral history he was exposed to as a child, Viola said. Those included tales told by four of the six Crow scouts who were at Custer's side at Little Bighorn and who Medicine Crow knew personally.

. . .

President Barack Obama awarded Medicine Crow the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2009.

There's more at the link.

This PBS documentary about World War II recounts Joe Medicine Crow's exploits in his own words.

May he rest in peace.

Peter

Interesting . . . ISIL is using historical German combat doctrine

The Daily Mail reports:

Lone wolf jihadis operating in Europe are following a doctrine of 19th century warfare in which they are given a deadline and a target - then sent to attack it by any means necessary.

Invoking the Germany Army's historical strategy of Auftragstaktik, the policy helps ISIS carry out attacks abroad when its chain of command is restricted by Western intelligence agencies.

. . .

The doctrine was first developed in the early 19th century in Prussia in response to the state's crushing defeat against Napoleon.

This new theory of war - which gave troops the skills to respond to rapidly changing circumstances in the heat of battle - was then refined by general Carl von Clausewitz.

Later fellow Prussian general Moltke the Elder further tweaked his theory, ushering in a new way of commanding modern-day armies.

Today, similar tactics form a crucial component of the U.S. and UK armies military training.

The February ISIS article ... cited a historical German infantry manual from 1908 as its inspiration.

The soldiers' manual stated: 'There is nothing more important than educating the soldier to think and act for himself.

'Autonomy and his sense of honor push him to do his duty even when it is not in front of his superior.'

According to SOFREP.com, this style of warfare - known in the U.S. as mission-type tactics - translates to: 'Here is your target, here are your assets, go get it done.'

This, ISIS claimed, allowed its cells to inflict terror in Europe with 'complete tactical autonomy' and leaves little evidence that can link back to their commanders.

There's more at the link.

This isn't surprising, of course:  many ISIL leaders were trained in the Iraqi Army (some even at US schools after the occupation of that country) before defecting to the terrorists.  They would be familiar with classical military terminology and tactics.  Nevertheless, if they're passing on such training to ordinary jihadis, that could pose a serious problem.  Most terrorists are, frankly, dumbasses.  They're not smart - they're fanatics . . . but educated, trained fanatics could be a whole new ball game.

Peter

Australian banks are also feeling the pressure

I've written many times about the shaky nature of the world financial system.  Many banks are over-exposed to debt and financial liabilities, and could implode if things go badly (as, quite frankly, I expect them to do).

Courtesy of Australian reader Snoggeramus, we learn that Australian banks aren't immune to the contagion.  Here's an excerpt from a transcript of a TV news report.

STEPHEN LONG: The GFC [Global Financial Crisis] may be behind us, but there are many who fear Australia's banks haven't learnt the lesson from that crisis. While incomes stagnate, household debt has soared to new records. Household debt in Australia is now bigger than the entire annual output of the economy, the highest level in the world.

. . .

BRIAN JOHNSON, CLSA: There's no doubt about it all: Australian households are massively indebted.

STEPHEN LONG: Veteran bank analyst Brian Johnson is not predicting a crisis, but he is very concerned by recent research from the banking regulator which says that if there was a house price crash, Australia's biggest banks wouldn't have enough capital to cover losses on mortgages.

BRIAN JOHNSON: As I actually read the speech that APRA actually made, I've got to say it was probably one of the most disturbing things I've ever read. What they said was that the standardised banks, which is basically the regional banks, just passed. They said that the advanced banks, which is basically the major banks, that they said that they did not pass. They ...

STEPHEN LONG: They failed the stress tests.

BRIAN JOHNSON: Well, I would say did not pass means failed, but apparently I've been instructed by one of the banks that's not what it means, but it sounds like that to me. Did not - if my child came home and said, "I did not pass," I would say, "That means you failed."

There's more at the link.  Interesting reading for those interested in such things.

You have to shake your head at the political correctness on display.  A bank can't be allowed to 'fail' a stress test . . . it simply 'doesn't pass'.  Do they really think the general public are dumb enough not to be able to figure out what that means?

Suffice it to say that with major banks all around the world in a similar plight, if one nation's financial system collapses, it's more likely than not to take others with it in a sort of economic 'domino effect'.  That won't be pretty.

Peter

Weather with leaves

I've never seen a dust devil pick up vegetation like this, but I'm assured it's not that uncommon in the southwest USA.  This video was filmed near Albuquerque, New Mexico last week. The plants are tumbleweeds.

I wonder if those plants scratch cars' paintwork?  Or are they soft enough not to matter? If anyone knows, please tell us in Comments.

Peter

Sounds like some Air Force generals need to be fired

Strategy Page reports on the concerted effort by the Air Force to get rid of the A-10 Thunderbolt II ground support aircraft.

[The] hostile attitude by air force leadership to the A-10 is nothing new. It got so bad in 2015 that the general commanding the ACC (Air Combat Command) was fired (because of Congressional pressure) for giving a speech in which he declared that any air force personnel speaking out publicly in favor of the A-10 were guilty of treason. While ACC is in charge of most combat aircraft (fighters, bombers, recon and ground attack) ACC leadership has long believed that the A-10 has outlived its usefulness and that its ground support job could be done just as well by fighters like the F-16 and F-35. Experience in combat has shown that this is not true, but apparently to senior people in the air force backing the truth, at least when it comes to the A-10, is treasonous.

While the air force leadership officially denounced the “supporting the A-10 is treason” remarks it was recently revealed that while those apologies were being made those same air force generals were trying to sabotage the A-10 by quietly cutting major maintenance programs 40 percent. This meant that a growing number of A-10s would not be available for service because of “maintenance issues.” It is believed that such excuses would not include the fact that the maintenance problems were self-inflicted by the air force leadership and it would instead be implied that the age of the A-10s was a factor.

The air force has been trying to retire its A-10 aircraft since the 1990s and this time (since late 2014) they tried issuing studies and analyses showing that the A-10 was too specialized and too old to justify the cost of keeping it in service. This generated more opposition, and more effective opposition, than the air forces expected. This was helped by the fact that some of the “studies” were more spin than impartial analysis. All this created unwanted publicity about something the air force denies exists but is nevertheless very real; the air force has never really wanted to devote much resources to CAS (Close Air Support) for ground forces. Officially this is not true but in reality it is and the ground forces (army and marines) and historians provided plenty of evidence.

There's more at the link.

Hmmm . . . From the US Air Force Blue Book on Values:

Integrity first, Service before self, and Excellence in all we do. These are the Air Force Core Values. Study them . . . understand them . . . follow them . . . and encourage others to do the same.

Methinks some Air Force generals need to re-read those values, particularly the first one . . . those generals, that is, who aren't too far gone in lack of values, and who need to be fired pour encourager les autres (as Voltaire would put it).

Peter

Marine recruiting technique?

Today's Wizard of Id cartoon strip:

Looks like a USMC recruiter's test for the ideal applicant . . .




Peter

Millennials as volunteer slaves?

The New York Post has a very interesting exposé of how millennials are exploited by hi-tech startup companies.  Here's an excerpt.

Tech startups love millennials. Tasty, tasty millennials who get underpaid, overworked, churned up and turned into nourishment for venture capitalists. Millennials are the Soylent Green of the tech world.

As each batch gets mashed up, there’s a long line of new hires eager to be made into the next meal for the execs and their billionaire backers, as tech survivor Dan Lyons shows in a scathingly funny new book, “Disrupted: My Misadventure in the Start-Up Bubble” (Hachette Books).

How worried was HubSpot about what secrets would emerge in the book? Very. At the company, three top execs were implicated in a scheme to suppress the book, which led to an FBI investigation of alleged extortion and ­email hacking. The FBI closed its investigation with no charges filed. But two lost their jobs and a third, the CEO, was reprimanded. In a press release, HubSpot said the personnel actions were taken “in connection with attempts to procure a draft manuscript of a book involving the company.”

HubSpot comes across as a kind of kindergarten cult that plies its young charges with parties, toys, naps, playtime — and not much pay. A huge chunk of potential compensation at tech startups comes in the form of stock options, which could turn out to be worth nothing but are certainly worth nothing if employees get so burned out that they leave before the options vest.

This is part of the plan. Tech firms basically operate like South African gold-mining operations, with confident young Tame Impala fans being the bodies thrown into the pit to break their backs digging up nuggets. All of the IPO gold, though, goes straight into the pockets of their masters topside.

There's much more at the link.  Recommended reading.

My father taught me at an early age that when it comes to compensation, cash is king.  Something 'as good as cash' often isn't, but there are some corporate 'perks' that come close.  However, to be offered something that basically has no cash value to you isn't compensation at all - it's flattery.  For that reason, as I rose in the ranks in the IT profession in South Africa, I moved to smaller and smaller companies, because they paid in hard cash with fewer so-called 'benefits'.  At the end of my IT career I was making a six-figure salary (in the late 1980's), with no perks whatsoever.  It was all cash.  I never regretted that, because the cash allowed me to live in a four-bedroom apartment and help others with whom I was working to alleviate the national crisis that accompanied the end of apartheid.

The article appears to describe the sort of environment inhabited by some notable politicians these days;  unicorn farts and rainbows (corporate edition).  I'm glad I don't work there.

Peter

The political blindness is staggering

I've been watching the unfolding battle within the Republican Party in utter disbelief that people could be so stupid - and that grown adults could be so childish.  Recent developments include:

• Priebus Won't Turn RNC Over to Trump If He Wins
• Cruz snaring Trump's Arizona delegates
• Ted Cruz ... May Pick up Delegates in Louisiana
• Republican Crisis May Deepen Even If Trump Loses Wisconsin

There are many, many more possible links, but they all point to two things.  First, the Cruz campaign is trying desperately to control the selection of delegates and the rules committees in each state, so as to ensure that as many of their loyalists as possible are appointed as delegates.  In the event of a contested convention, they're expected to switch from their designated first-round candidate to Cruz in subsequent rounds.  Second, the GOP establishment appears to be working with might and main to ensure that the convention is contested, and that Trump doesn't win enough delegates to avoid that.  (I don't normally read or listen to Rush Limbaugh, but he had some pithy comments on the subject last week.)

What staggers me is how blind the political establishment is to the reasons for Donald Trump's popularity (and Bernie Sanders' rise on the Democratic side, for that matter).  More and more of the people of this country are sick of political establishments that promise the moon, but never deliver.  They don't trust career politicians any longer - and with good reason.  Yet, to read the news stories I linked above, most career politicians are blithely carrying on as if they can derail what the people want and ignore their anger.  I don't think that's the case any longer - and if Trump's and Sanders' campaigns are derailed, I think the backlash among voters will be staggering.

(I hasten to add that I'm neither a Trump nor a Sanders supporter.  I'm merely flabbergasted at the invincible ignorance displayed by the political class over both of them.)

Peter