My friend Borepatch recently brought up a primary technique in self-defense.
That of avoidance.
I remember being a callow youth, and one of my friends suggested (on multiple occasions) we visit a bar in a ‘bad part of town’ to start fights! To show how tough we were.
Now, my disability aside, when I was in my 20’s, I was thinner, faster, more imbued with testosterone, perhaps – but I wasn’t stupid.
And, I wasn’t tough. So I demurred.
Now, of course, life’s lessons have made me much slower, in more chronic pain, and less hormonal. I AM tougher, though. And maybe a little smarter.
Which brings me to my point.
I used to go ANYWHERE in The Valley. At any time. I was the real Travis Bickle. I don’t know if it was a death wish or stupidity, or simply ignorance.
NOW, I think “would I really want to be THERE, at that time, alone (or unarmed)?”
But these flash mobs and knockout squads aren’t just appearing in ‘the bad parts of town’. They are becoming ubiquitous. And, being disabled, I cannot just cross the street – quickly.
This is one reason I carry almost everywhere – and Condition Yellow is my code.
I can take care of myself, given the chance. I just hope I can see the opposition coming.
Chapter 3 – The Adventure Continues (you needn’t search, there are no chapters 1 or 2…this is like Star Wars!)
I did post previously regarding my neighbors to the South (we live in a common-wall townhouse) who were evicted after it was discovered they have lived in filth for two years, were hoarders and were running a puppy mill, illegally! And, after they vacated, so did their German roaches.
To OUR place!
The owner/landlady of the neighboring roach nest promised us she’d pay for ALL necessary extermination, etc. She has spend thousands having hundreds of bags of trash, dog feces, and even the built-in appliances removed from her rental. One of the bug guys told me when he moved the washer and dryer, there were dead and dying roaches TWO INCHES DEEP underneath!
They came and sprayed our place twice. The first time very thoroughly, including the front outside and our small back yard. The second time was kind-of a perfunctory, yeah yeah, we gotta spray again thing. We did tell them they couldn’t dust inside the walls due to my roommates asthma. Apparently, they took this as some kind of insult.
The incursion has lessened since they finished next door – after TWELVE (12) VISITS! But, the roaches have obviously established a beachhead here, and we needed to take further action.
As instructed, we contacted the exterminator to discuss our options. They said they would need to speak with the landlady for additional authorization, which was fine. But, they were very rude, as if they no longer wanted the money!?
So J. made an executive decision (after all, we’re living in her place). We went to a do-it-yourself bug place, instead.
Since Thursday last, we have been following instructions, removing all items from the kitchen cabinets in preparation of cleaning, spraying, drilling holes in the kickplates for special chemicals, and finally washing and replacing everything, and leaving bait. And we’re ALMOST done.
What A MESS!
BUT, this is certainly more thorough than the ‘professional’, and promises to give us more relief.
Or kill us…
First, of course, the quintessential D*** NIXON. (for whom I did vote in 1972!)
Followed by all others.
Cases(s) in point…
We are ready to have our local primary. Here are three of the many candidates being promoted:
I’m guessing he had a lot of fun in junior high and high school. And, if he was ever in the military…?
SERIOUSLY? What moniker do you think they gave HIM in high school?
I’ve no idea what either of these gentlemen’s politics are, but am using them to promote my thesis – ALL POLITICIANS ARE D***S!
Even if they are named David or Susan…
Popular wisdom would say they are either strong and wise belying their years, due to years of verbal abuse about their names. Or they are borderline psychotics running for public office…
And, lest we forget…
I rest my case.
Rand Paul:”If I had been told to get out of the street as a teenager, there would have been a distinct possibility that I might have smarted off. But, I wouldn’t have expected to be shot.”
The outrage in Ferguson is understandable—though there is never an excuse for rioting or looting. There is a legitimate role for the police to keep the peace, but there should be a difference between a police response and a military response.
The images and scenes we continue to see in Ferguson resemble war more than traditional police action.
Glenn Reynolds, in Popular Mechanics, recognized the increasing militarization of the police five years ago. In 2009 he wrote:
Soldiers and police are supposed to be different. … Police look inward. They’re supposed to protect their fellow citizens from criminals, and to maintain order with a minimum of force.
It’s the difference between Audie Murphy and Andy Griffith. But nowadays, police are looking, and acting, more like soldiers than cops, with bad consequences. And those who suffer the consequences are usually innocent civilians.
You should go and read the whole article.
Now I’m in no way suggesting disarming the police. However, as with so many things, this is about mindset. When I took Police Science courses (1973-75), it was about apprehending lawbreakers and protecting the rights and persons of all involved – suspects, subjects, witnesses and police. For some reason, we seem to have lost that. And the term Peace Officer is no longer in use. The doctrine of posse comitatus is no longer in effect. We are no longer worried about the military being used as civilian police. The police have become the military.
h/t Brock Townsend
(in part from PawPaw’s House)
Regulars at the Vineyard Golf Club in Martha’s Vineyard were gobsmacked when President Obama unexpectedly strolled onto a nearby green and they were immediately frisked. “There was no warning he was coming,” sniffed a guest.
If the President showed up at my club and the members were frisked, I’d be pissed, but I don’t know all the niceties of presidential visits. So, I waited for Instapundit to weigh in. We realize, of course, that Insty is a professor of law in Knoxville.
How come nobody ever tells them to buzz off, and that if the President wants to play golf he can damn well respect the rights of others? The response to the ominous “So, you’re not cooperating?” should be “No, are you assaulting me?”
If the President wants to go out in public, fine. If he can’t do it without assaulting the rights of citizens, then he should stay home. But hey, most of these folks probably voted for him. So: Enjoy!
Citizens of a republic shouldn’t be subjected to frisking or wanding just because the boss shows up.
There was a time when most folks had access to firearms, and one could walk into the White House unimpeded. And nothing happened. Now, not only is visitation severely controlled and restricted, but encountering the Chief Executive on the golf course means impromptu cessation of civil rights.
What if he went jogging? Have an advance team feeling-up all the folks in advance of his running by? (And yes, I know Clinton went jogging – and even he didn’t molest the spectators!)
Just let me know if The President will be in my vicinity. I would leave, anyway, even if I weren’t legally armed.
(as stolen from ENDO)
Take a look at this very unbiased article from BBC where three blind guys tell their stories of the trials and tribulations of being blind and into guns.
I’ve actually posted about Carey McWilliams (one of the blind guys) before. Seems like a good guy.
I don’t know who at the NRA pooped their pants over the fact Moms Demand Action didn’t like the NRA’s Dom Raso “Guns For the Blind” video and decided to remove it, but what a WEAK MOVE. In a hilarious twist, Mom’s Demand Action reposted it (unlisted) on their YouTube page. DRAAAAAAAmmmaaahhhhhh! Seriously though why you gotta be like that NRA? The NRA is supposed to be powerful and take out the anti-gun trash, walking all over Mom’s who “DEMAND” action. Not cower at criticism.
Thoughts? You liking all this guns and the blind drama?
I remember this fictional scene below, and chuckling at it even then. A blind guy fighting…SERIOUSLY? Obviously, times have changed – as had my opinion.
The less-sighted need to be able to defend themselves as much as we crippled guys! Or regular folk. And a firearm is one tool for that.
sheet metal screw
(No, not the 1928 silent film Western! And not THAT old…)
After my ignominious departure from the University (I dropped out because I spent more time partying than studying. Remember Joe Cool? 1970-71), my parents (with whom I was still living) put their feet down.
I was to pay them rent. This meant upgrading my employment – both to meet my financial obligation to them, and to look for better accommodations.
My Dad knew a guy who worked for AZDES, as a job bank guy. And soon, I was interviewed and sent out for a better possible job.
At M****** S***** Nut, Bolt and Screw. A manufacturer of industrial fasteners – nuts, bolts, screws, rivets, all manner in all sizes and quantities. Not being particularly handy, I was unaware one could get such items in kegs. Or pallets of kegs. Containing thousands, weighing a lot!
Soon, I went to work commuting from the S.E. Valley to N.W. of downtown Phoenix. And, in spite of promises made I would not have to drive a clutch-operated vehicle (with my disability, it can be difficult), I was soon driving a fork lift, among my other duties!
And I got to load trucks and make local deliveries, mainly to construction companies, Valley-wide.
But, this was before political correctness. And except for a couple of secretaries in the main office, and small parts packaging, the staff and customers were entirely male. And in a blue-collar business such as this, coarse language and humor was prevalent.
ALL the company pencils had the name of the company, the address, telephone number.
And the phrase “To Us, There’s Nothing Better Than A Good S**** “
And not to be outdone, over the will-call office, wherein people came to pickup ordered merchandise, was a sign reading “We’d Like Nothing Better Than To Handle Your N**** “
Obviously, a different time. I think I was making $2.00/hour, up from $1.60 as a busboy! @ 45 hours a week.
But, all good things must come to an end.
It was closing time, and I was in a hurry to get home. My manager asked me to wait for him to load a truck for delivery – and he was taking forever. So, I took it upon myself to load the pickup truck with the fork lift, without waiting for his direction. And I put a small dent in the truck, with the clutch-operated fork lift I’d been promised I would never have to drive.
And I was subsequently fired.
No more commuting for me. At least to that part of town.
And yes, I thought I had been s******!
…tell us what you REALLY think!
aka MADISON’S NIGHTMARE
(from Cold Fury, in part)
Moreover, as Madison and Hamilton took for granted in The Federalist Papers, which they wrote (with five by John Jay) to urge ratification of the Constitution, taxes would chiefly take the form of import duties or excises on such commodities as whiskey—and these taxes, Hamilton asserted, were naturally self-limiting because if they grew excessive, people would stop buying the overtaxed article, and overall tax revenues would fall. In the unlikely event of an imposition of any direct tax on everybody, or on citizens’ land or wealth, as opposed to these indirect levies, Article I, Section 9 of the Constitution required that it be levied equally or proportionally, though scholars debate the meaning of that clause. But one thing the Framers never dreamed of was a tax on incomes. And for generations, they were right.
But in 1913, after 20 years of Progressive-era agitation, the Sixteenth Amendment, passed by Congress in 1909, won ratification. It imposed a graduated income tax—a direct tax that did not fall proportionally on all. Indirect taxes such as import duties and excise taxes, the argument went, fell disproportionately on the poor and provided too unpredictable a revenue stream to a federal government that Americans increasingly thought needed strengthening. Though the income-tax rates were but 1 percent for incomes up to $483,826, rising to a modest 7 percent on incomes over $11.6 million, the now-constitutional machinery for the tyranny of the majority that Madison had feared was fired up and ready to confiscate wealth as surely as the Stamp Act confiscated property. And since in 1913, the Seventeenth Amendment—instituting direct popular election of senators—also won ratification, the upper house no longer served, even theoretically, as a brake on the passions of the people.
Today, Madison’s nightmare has become America’s everyday reality.
And, remember folks, 1913 was 101 years ago.
What has happened governmentally in the past 100+ years that has been detrimental to this Constitutional Republic?
I’m thinking A LOT!
Go to the link to see the whole thing.
Yeah, it’s a song title, above.
Sometimes, I get down on myself, because I once had a wife, a daughter, a home, a ‘career’.
No wife, no daughter, no ‘career’ (I’m disabled). I DO
have share a home, though.
And that’s my point.
Living Freedom recently had a posting entitled
It mentioned traits of folks down-on-their-luck who, if they are not thriving, do more than just survive.
I could have been worse off than I am. I lost my home as my income decreased, and a good friend took me in.
But, that’s not my point.
MY POINT IS I’M GRATEFUL FOR HER HAVING DONE SO!
Certainly, I wish things could be different. It would be nice to have a wife, to have my daughter back. To have my house back. To have the income I once had.
But, not being a child, I know wishing doesn’t make it so.
So (most days) I choose GRATITUDE!
…and it’s only TUESDAY!
Personal stuff aside (higher humidity making havoc of my arthritis, for example) there’s Robin Williams gone.
And tonight, the news about Lauren Bacall…
She was the one woman who could tame Humphrey Bogart, and did so, giving him two children and a number of films together. She was sultry, and had a sexy voice that sizzled off the 40’s movie screen.
And didn’t take any s*** from anyone, all while showing class today’s young actresses could only dream about.
Betty, if you need anything, please follow your own instructions!