Tuesday, April 30, 2019

There was this Florida school guard…


“WESLEY CHAPEL, Fla. — A school resource officer's gun accidentally discharged in the cafeteria at Weightman Middle School in Wesley Chapel on Tuesday afternoon, according to the Pasco County Sheriff's Office.

“Deputies say the SRO was in the cafeteria, leaning against the wall when his holstered, duty-issued firearm accidentally discharged into the wall behind him. The gun fired directly into the wall and no students were in danger, according to the Sheriff's Office. There were no injuries to any students, the staff or the School Resource Officer.

Two things: A gun does not just “accidentally discharge.” Today’s pistols require trigger pulling before the firing pin strikes the cartridge primer. Leaning against a wall will not cause a pistol to fire. Second thing: Why are school police always called “resource officer?” Are schools afraid to use the word “police?”




People of Georgia, Republic of, might not see the irony


“Black Eyed Peas, an American musical group will visit Georgia this summer. The concert will take place at Black Sea Arena in Shekvetili, Guria (located on the eastern Black Sea coast) on the 16th of June.” 


For people not of US-Southern background, black-eyed pea is a legume used in many recipes. In the South, a New Year’s Day good luck meal consists of black eyed peas, pork, turnip greens and cornbread.

The burning of Brenham, Texas


Brenham is in Washington County, in Southeast Texas. The city is about halfway between Austin and Houston. The 2010 population was around 16,000.

Known these days for the “little creamery” that produces Blue Bell Ice Cream, Brenham during the Reconstruction period following the American war of 1861-65 was one of the few Southern towns burned by occupying Federal soldiers. Why that burning occurred depends on which source you decide to believe.

In Lone Star: A History of Texas and the Texans, Texas historian T.R. Fehrenbach says: “At Brenham, Negro troops burned down the town. No soldier or officer was ever brought to trial or admonished for this act.”

Wikipedia has no mention at all of the event. Maybe the Wiki people don’t want anybody to know Yankee soldiers burned down a town because of pique or prejudice.

Neither the city’s home page nor the Chamber of Commerce web site mentions the arson by Yankees at all. I figure your town being burned by occupying Federal soldiers is a pretty good example of what happens when citizens protest government harassment and unconstitutional measures, and residents ought to show that pride by mentioning it as often as possible.

Some sites do mention the arson by Yankees, but which kind of Yankee and why the Northerners applied match and torch to a helpless small town is a matter of disagreement.

The Handbook of Texas online says: “Despite the 1867 yellow fever epidemic, the burning of commercial buildings by federal occupation troops during Reconstruction, and destructive fires in 1873 and 1877, Brenham's economy expanded to include banking (1866), silk and cigar manufacturing (1880s), and other light industry.


That’s it? An “And, by the way, federal occupation troops burned down commercial buildings.” I expect more from the go-to book on Texas.

Several sites link establishment of Brenham’s fire department to the burning by Yankee soldiers, and another few focus on discovery several years ago of large cisterns beneath city streets, the cisterns apparently constructed after the 1866 burning.

Yet another site says the fires began after Yankee soldiers were asked to leave a charity dance raising funds for construction of a Negro school. That seems a little more far-fetched. The story said soldiers complained to their commanding officer, who then ordered his men to burn the place down.

Reconstruction was a time of tribulation for Texas and its people, no matter their political party and color. Seeds planted during Yankee occupation led to a weed-filled garden for more than 100 years and still affect Texas politics today.



Monday, April 29, 2019

Growing tired of stuff like this


“Her comment reminded me of the unconscious bias that was built into photography.” – Sarah Lewis, assistant professor of history of art and architecture and African and African American studies, Harvard University.


There are people of black color who must filter, through their black filter, every word spoken to them or read by them or overheard, every minute of every day. They are called “victims.” There are people of white color who must filter, through their white filter, every word spoken to them or read by them or overheard, every minute of every day. They are called “racists.”

Three of they mamas ought to be charged for stupid


Four men arrested for a bunch of crimes in St. Mary’s County, Maryland. The arrested: Divante Quantil Kyler, Jalonte Dalquan Ford, Jajuan Dalshawn Ford and Timothy Patrick Hogan.

Seems as though the four broke through a wall from the Ford townhouse into a neighbor’s residence and burglarized the place.


History, and police reports, show some names lead to a life of crime. In some cases, a brief life. Really, now, don’t you wonder how somebody’s mama or grandmother or auntie comes up with those future criminal names?

Link at thisainthell.




Sunday, April 28, 2019

A blind pig finds acorns now and then


Or, 1,600 buried silver coins in a Slovak forest.

“Wild boar can now join badgers as some of the most effective archaeologists of the animal kingdom. Diligent boars in the Choč mountain near Likavka, Slovakia, unearthed a large hoard of silver coins and two gold coins from the late 15th, early 16thcentury and then generously left them behind for a nice married couple to find during a hike. The couple had the presence of mind not to touch the coins. They alerted archaeologists and waited for three hours at the find site to ensure somebody less morally upright than they and the boars wouldn’t interfere with the treasure.


(Editorial latitude note: The wild boar was not said to be blind.)




Saturday, April 27, 2019

Russian germs must not touch Fearless Leader


‘Lil Kim visits Russia, and his toadies are busy.
  

Whatever the Norks might do to a foreign leader, they expect the same might happen to Fearless Leader Kim 3. 

Remove the 'German' beer label…


And discover Brewed in China.

Well, you can hope it was brewed somewhere.

And, you can hope it is really beer.


That would never happen in the US. China would not do that to Americans.

Friday, April 26, 2019

Kalashnikov kamikaze drone


When an AK47 just won’t do the job.




Democrats looking for male candidate who isn’t


Why do rich queers back Democrats? Silly question, maybe, but there is an answer.

“Why are gays a favored identity group? What’s that old saw that can be applied to virtually any political mystery? How about, “Follow the money.” Think about something for a moment—what other Democrat identity group has so many members, largely white, who are tech or entertainment billionaires? Or influential movie stars? Or TV media personalities? Or creative directors in TV advertising? Do blacks or Hispanics have that kind of presence across those domains? Of course they don’t, which explains the phenomenal initial fundraising success of the first openly gay candidate to jump into the Democrats’ shark pond.


Easy answer. Queers tend to back candidates who demand we normals stop with our beliefs that queerness is unnatural, not to mention an abomination. Democrats believe queerness is normal. Democrats know queer tech billionaires and queer movie/TV people have influence and dollars. Therefore, Democrats like queers.
  
The column is about Beto O’Rourke and Pete Buttigieg, but also answers the question, Why are queers favored by Democrats. Money, money, money.

Let’s face it. None of the women Democratic candidates has a chance of being elected.

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Can we get a few more countries involved here?


Croatian court reduces sentence of Yugoslav found guilty by German court.


 That's the way things work in parts of Europe these days, Easterners at the beck and call of Westerners.

Cemetery for murdered Russian bandits


"This cemetery in Yekaterinburg is a final resting place for many local stars and war heroes. But one section of the cemetery surrounded by pine trees is special. It is full of huge granite grave-stones with giant realistic portraits of people – many of them wear leather jackets or expensive suits, have thick gold chains and tattoos, hold cigarettes or keys from a Mercedes… All of them belong to representatives of the criminal world murdered in the 1990s – early 2000s."


Russia has been a criminal enterprise since Tsarists times,  so the grave marker of any wealthy Russian could be said to be that of a bandit.


Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Kill the squirrels, 1918 version


In Lassen County, “one girl brought in 3,780 tails; a boy brought in 3,770.”

      
Link at knuckledraggin.


‘Significant decline’ noted in USMC discipline (Not satire)


General notes, “We have allowed Marines and Sailors to walk around with long hair, nonexistent or poor shaves, unserviceable boots and utilities and improper civilian attire. There are weeds growing around our buildings and work spaces and trash everywhere but the dumpsters where it belongs.”


Link at thisainthell.us





Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Chain of command


In a brief critique
Of The War Novel,
A famous criticizer said:
"The soldier has such a limited conception
“Of his role in combat.”
I know this much:
Jesus was a soldier
And Barabbas a general,
But Judas only a politician.

A feel for the land

Snooze and Bull assigned Tom with Brando and Wizard late that afternoon when the platoon set up night defensive position near the top of a small hill. A north-south trail snaked across the western slope of the hill. The LT placed First Squad on the northern slope, across the trail and tying in with Second Squad forward and west of the trail. Third Squad dug in left of Second, positions arching south and east. Fourth Squad covered the eastern slope. Platoon Headquarters -- the LT, Sergeant Reid, platoon medic Doc Matthews and radio operators Steve Jennings and Darryl Bolton -- set up west of the trail, just below the hill crest and behind Second Squad.
          Snooze and Bull allowed Second Squad a short break before time to haul out E-tools and hack at the red dirt and dig foxholes for the night. Tom rested his M-16 against his right leg and unslung the SKS and both rucksacks, dropping the packs onto the ground. He sat down, then unbuckled his pistol belt and leaned against the larger ruck and took off his helmet. Wizard and Brando stood for a moment. Wizard held his M-60 machine gun angled across his chest. From the squad’s part of the perimeter, the hill sloped gently into a small valley. A narrow stream wound through the valley. Thick jungle surrounded the hill.
          Tom looked up at Wizard and Brando. “Sit down.” he said. “You’re making me tired.”
          Wizard continued staring at the grassy slope and the trees that began just short of the stream. “Got to get a feel for it,” he said quietly. “You got to feel the land.”
          Tom nodded. “I’ll buy that. You want me to stand up, get a feel for it?”
          Brando glanced down. “Whatever you want, Tom. Me and Wizard and everybody else’ll carry you one week. After that, you better know.”
          Tom blushed. He stood and stared the same direction as Wizard and Brando. “Are we looking for avenues of approach?”
          “We ain’t looking for anything,” Wizard said. “We’re getting a feel.”
          After a time, Wizard and Brando sat on the ground. Both lit cigarettes. Tom also sat. He took a canteen and drank three swallows of water.
          “How come you’re called Brando?” he asked while sliding the canteen back into its holder.
          Brando grinned. “My girl back home, her name’s Stella. You know, like in that Brando movie where he stands on the sidewalk and yells her name?”
          Tom nodded. “I know the one you’re talking about, but I never saw the movie. Only that one scene.”
          “Me neither,” Brando said.
          Wizard lay the machine gun across his thighs. “I saw it. Didn't make much sense. That dude, man he was a dumb fuck. No balls. He wanted the girl, how come he didn’t just go inside, tell her?”
          “Beats me,” Tom said.
          Brando snorted. “They wouldn’t have had much of a movie if he’d done that.”
          “Guess not,” Wizard said.    
          Bull walked up from the south. A cigarette hung from the left corner of his mouth. He grinned. “You ain’t got that hole dug yet?”
          Brando pointed with a thumb. “We’re waitin for Tom to get started.”
          Tom clambered to his knees and unsnapped the E-tool carrier attached to his ruck. “New guys get all the shit details, huh.”
          Brando grinned. “You learnin, Tom.”
         
                                               

Lieutenant goes missing after chewing out command sergeant major


ByCharlieMike

CAMP HUMPHREYS, Korea – Alpha Company soldiers and military police are still searching for 2nd Lt. Trevor Senseman after he reportedly ordered the brigade command sergeant major to stand at the position of attention before addressing him, sources confirmed today.
“No one has seen or heard from him in three days,” said Capt. Andrew Upshaw, the Alpha Company commander. “I know every LT has their screw-ups, but this? Not good.”
Upshaw is currently due to change out of command in three weeks, but the date could be pushed until his company executive officer’s whereabouts are determined.
The situation unfolded during ‘Motor Pool Monday’ when brigade Sgt. Maj. Billy Jackson paid an unannounced visit to greet and observe soldiers, according to sources.
“We scrambled around the second we saw him,” said Sgt. Dan Parsons, “but he waved and told us to carry on. He was drinking coffee out of a ceramic mug and just wanted to get away from the flagpole.”
Motor pool ops eventually returned to normal until 2nd Lt. Trevor Senseman confronted the sergeant major. Senseman approached Jackson and demanded confirmation on whether enlisted soldiers still had to salute officers.
“The pucker factor was off the charts,” Parsons said. “The sad part is we have a giant ‘No Hat, No Salute Zone’ sign posted in our AO.”
Jackson reportedly smirked as the second lieutenant continued shouting. That’s when the lieutenant told him to ‘lock it up.’
Sources say the sergeant major polished off his coffee, clicked his heels together, and rendered a salute with a loud, ‘Sir, forgive me, sir!’
“I’m a captain,” said Upshaw. “I’ve paid enough dues to get away with being a passive aggressive smartass to a sergeant major, but hemming one up? I still wouldn’t go there.”
All soldiers who witnessed the exchange claimed the confrontation appeared to be over. However, when Senseman failed to report for duty after lunch, soldiers started to speculate that his absence might be connected to Jackson.
“I thought, maybe Trevor’s at a dental appointment,” said Upshaw, “but I noticed the orderly room soldiers were more unsettled than usual. They told me what happened.”

With the help of his first sergeant, Upshaw brokered a meeting with specialists rumored to be active leaders in the local E-4 Mafia. The specialists offered no inside information despite offers of four-day passes and additional duty exemptions. They also declined to accept any concessions in exchange for their support, claiming the well-being of one lieutenant wasn’t worth risk of retaliation from the small but powerful E-9 Clan.
Jackson refused to speak with reporters but replied in an email that “Senseman wouldn’t be the second lieutenant to have wandered off and gotten lost and likely won’t be the last.”


(Duffel Blog is a site replete with military news of a sarcastic, not exactly accurate, nature.)

Head ‘pinned to a poll’


That’s what ABC News had on its first lead to a story about the execution  of 37 people in Saudi Arabia. The second lead recognized “pole” vs “poll.”

But ABC editors did not fix “pole” vs “poll” in the body of the story, noting, “The body of one of the men — Khaled bin Abdel Karim al-Tuwaijri — was publicly pinned to a poll for several hours…”

Also, “Executions are traditionally carried out after midday prayers. Public displays of the bodies of executed men last for around three hours until late afternoon prayers, with the severed head and body hoisted to the top of a poll overlooking a main square. Executions are traditionally carried out after midday prayers.” (Emphasis added.)


Let’s hope ABC is a bit more careful in its reporting of US political polls.




Monday, April 22, 2019

No longer an FNG


Tom Phillips lost most of his new-guy status his fifth day in country, his first day in the bush, when an NVA soldier jumped out from behind a tree. Tom was walking second, behind Brando. The NVA soldier waited until Brando walked past, and then he jumped up. Tom put two loads of double-ought buckshot into the man, the first shot taking away most of the man’s face, the second tearing through his chest as the NVA spun from the force of the shot.

         After killing the NVA, Tom jacked another round into his shotgun, at the same time stepping behind a tree. He knew better than to fall to the ground. He had heard stories of men who did that and impaled themselves on pieces of sharpened bamboo buried in the ground. Tom knelt behind the tree, glancing right and left and ahead. Brando also knelt beside a tree. He shot a look back, then scanned the jungle.

          Bull’s voice cut through the silence. “Talk to me, Tom.”

          Tom glanced at the body. Smoke from the two expended rounds hung in the air. “Gook jumped up,” he said. His nostrils crinkled from the smell of gunpowder.

          “You okay?”

          Tom knew there was more to the question than concern for his physical safety. “Roger that.”

          “I’m coming up,” Bull said.

          “You’re covered.” Tom glanced back. 

          Bull moved cautiously, bent at the waist, eyes moving from side to side. When joining Tom, Bull glanced at the body, then lit a cigarette. “What happened?”

          “He jumped up,” Tom said.

          “Brando,” Bull called.

          “Looks okay up here.”

          Placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder, Bull said, “I’ll get the rest of the team up and out. Stay here.” Tom nodded.

          Within ten seconds, A Team moved past Tom and the body and fanned out on each side of Brando.

          Bull rejoined Tom. “LT’s moving up. Let’s have a look.”

          Tom stood, pulling a canteen from its cover. He took a small sip of water. “Okay.”

          They stood over the body. Bull nudged the dead man’s ribs with the toe of his boot. “Fucker looks seriously dead.” He stared at Tom. “He jumped up, huh.”

          “From behind that tree.”

          Bull nodded. “Buckshot does the job every time.”

          Tom stared at the body. “He must’ve been scared shitless when Brando walked past him.” The NVA wore a faded green uniform and rubber-soled sandals. His hair was black and long. Flies gathered on his face and chest, feeding on the blood. Turning to Bull, Tom said, “I guess we better search him.”

          Bull said. “You want me to do it?”

          Tom shrugged. “Nah. I got it.”

          The LT came up, kneeling as Tom went through the NVA’s pockets. “Got anything?”

          “Beats me, sir,” Tom said. He rolled the man onto his stomach, then pulled backpack straps from the dead man’s arms. “A couple of letters, maybe a diary,” Tom said as he opened pockets on the backpack. “Family pictures.” He took the top from a metal cigarette tin. “Maybe some dope. Looks sort of like tobacco, but different.” He sniffed the can. “Smells like new-mown hay. Cut too rough to be tobacco.”

          “Where’s his weapon?”

          Tom pointed. “There. SKS, I think.”

          The LT reached across the body and picked up the rifle. “That’s what it is. Most of them around here carry AK’s.” He opened the bottom of the magazine and caught the nine rounds there, then pulled back the bolt handle, ejecting the round from the chamber. “He kept it clean. Any clips on him?”

          “Eight,” Tom said.

          The LT opened the NVA’s back pack and dropped the ten loose cartridges inside. He handed the rifle to Tom. “You want it?”

          “Aren't we supposed to turn it in to S-2?”

          The LT grinned. “I’ll take care of that.”

          Tom held the rifle. “Okay.” He smiled. “I guess I get to carry it until we go back.”

          “No gun bearers out here,” the LT said. He stood. “I’ll check with Sergeant Reid. He’s calling in a report.” He slapped Tom’s shoulder. “Good job.” He smiled. “You get to carry the backpack, too.”

          Tom glanced down at the NVA as the LT walked away. The man’s face was a mass of red pulp -- no nose or eyes, lips and front teeth shot away. Tom took his canteen from its holder and drank a long swallow, then slung the SKS and backpack over his left shoulder. He walked forward, joining the squad.
                                                         
                                                    




Sunday, April 21, 2019

Library jokes


I asked the librarian where to find a book of patriotic American songs. She said “Over there.”

I asked the librarian where to find books about paranoia. She whispered, “They’re right behind you.”

I asked the librarian for a book about Pavlov’s dog and Schrödinger’s cat. She said it rang a bell, but she didn’t know if it was there or not.

I asked the librarian for a book on engine lubricants. She said to look in the nonfriction section.

I asked the librarian to recommend an author who wrote dinosaur novels. She said, “Try Sarah Topps.”

I asked the librarian for a book about Stockholm Syndrome. She told me the first few chapters were horrible, but by the end, I would love it.





A most irritated old man



Born in 1695, just 75 years after the first Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, the stone-cold hardass who would be made a state hero of Massachusetts was first unleashed on colonial America in the 1740s while serving as a Captain in His Majesty’s Dragoons – a badass unit of elite British cavalrymen much-feared across the globe for their ability to impale people on lance-points and then pump their already-dead bodies full of gigantic pistol ammunition that more closely resembled baseballs than the sort of rounds you see packed into Beretta magazines these days. Fighting the French in Canada during the War of Austrian Succession (a conflict that was known here in the colonies as King George’s War because seriously WTF did colonial Americans care about Austrian succession), Whittemore was part of the British contingent that assaulted the frozen shores of Nova Scotia and beat the shit out of the French at their stronghold of Louisbourg in 1745. The 50 year-old cavalry officer went into battle galloping at the head of a company of rifle-toting horsemen, and emerged from the shouldering flames of a thoroughly ass-humped Louisbourg holding a bitchin’ ornate longsword he had wrenched from the lifeless hands of a French officer who had, in Whittemore’s words, “died suddenly”. The French would eventually manage to snake Louisbourg back from the Brits, so thirteen years later, during the Seven Years’ War (a conflict that was known here in the colonies as the French and Indian War because WTF we were fighting the French and the Indians, and also because it lasted nine years instead of seven), Whittemore had to return to his old stomping grounds of Louisburg and ruthlessly beat it into submission once again. Serving under the able command fellow badass British commander James Wolfe, a man who earned his reputation by commanding a line of riflemen who held their lines against a frothing-at-the-mouth horde of psychotic, sword-swinging William Wallace motherfuckers in Scotland (this is a story I intend to tell at a later date), Whittemore once again pummeled the French retarded and stole all of their shit he could get his hands on. He served valiantly during the Second Siege of Louisbourg, pounding the poor city into rubble a second time in an epic bloodbath would mark the beginning of the end for France’s Atlantic colonies – Quebec would fall shortly thereafter, and the French would be chased out of Canada forever. So you can thank Whittemore for that, if you are inclined to do so.

Beating Frenchmen down with a cavalry saber at the age of 64 is pretty cool and all, but Whittemore still wasn’t done doing awesome shit in the name of King George the Third and His Loyal Colonies. Four years after busting up the French for the second time in two decades he led troops against Chief Pontiac in the bloody Indian Wars that raged across the Great Lakes region. Never one to back down from an up-close-and-personal fistfight, it was during a particularly nasty bout of hand-to-hand combat he came into possession of another totally sweet war trophy – an awesome pair of matched dueling pistols he had taken from the body of a warrior he’d just finished bayoneting or sabering or whatever.

After serving in three American wars before America was even a country, Whittemore decided the colonies were pretty damn radical, so he settled down in Massachusetts, married two different women (though not at the same time), had eight kids, and built a house out of the carcasses of bears he’d killed and mutilated with his own two hands. Or something like that.

Now, all of this shit is pretty god damned impressive, but interestingly none of it is actually what Samuel Whittemore is best known for. No, his distinction as a national hero instead comes from a fateful day in mid-April 1775, when the British colonies in the New World decided they weren’t going to take any more of King George’s bullshit and decided to get their American Revolution on. And you can be pretty damn sure that if there were asses to be kicked, Whittemore was going to be one of the men doing the kicking.

So one day a bunch of colonial malcontents got together, formed a battle line, and opened fire on a bunch of redcoats that were pissing them off with their silly Stamp Acts and whatnot. The Brits managed to beat back this militia force at the Battles of Lexington and Concord, but when they heard that a larger force of angry, rifle-toting colonials was headed their way, the English officers decided to march back to their headquarters and regroup. Along the way, they were hassled relentlessly by American militiamen with rifles and angry insults, though no group harassed them more ferociously than Captain Sam Whittemore. When the Redcoats went marching back through his hometown of Menotomy, this guy decided that he wasn’t going to let his advanced age stop him from doing some crazy shit and taking on an entire British army himself. The 80 year old Whittemore grabbed his rifle and ran outside:

Whittemore, by himself, with no backup, positioned himself behind a stone wall, waited in ambush, and then single-handedly engaged the entire British 47th Regiment of Foot with nothing more than his musket and the pure liquid anger coursing through his veins. His ambush had been successful – by this time this guy popped up like a decrepitly old rifle-toting jack-in-the-box, the British troops were pretty much on top of him. He fired off his musket at point-blank range, busting the nearest guy so hard it nearly blew his red coat into the next dimension.

Now, when you’re using a firearm that takes 20 seconds to reload, it’s kind of hard to go all Leonard Funk on a platoon of enemy infantry, but damn it if Whittemore wasn’t going to try. With a company of Brits bearing down in him, he quick-drew his twin flintlock pistols and popped a couple of locks on them (caps hadn’t been invented yet, though I think the analogy still works pretty fucking well), busting another two Limeys a matching set of new assholes. Then he unsheathed the ornate French sword, and this 80-year-old madman stood his ground in hand-to-hand against a couple dozen trained soldiers, each of which was probably a quarter of his age.

…[I]t didn’t work out so well. Whittemore was shot through the face by a 69-caliber bullet, knocked down, and bayonetted 13 times by motherfuckers. I’d like to imagine he wounded a couple more Englishmen who slipped or choked on his blood, though history only seems to credit him with three kills on three shots fired. The Brits, convinced that this man was sufficiently beat to shit, left him for dead kept on their death march back to base, harassed the entire way by Whittemore’s fellow militiamen.

Amazingly, however, Samuel Whittemore didn’t die. When his friends rushed out from their homes to check on his body, they found the half-dead, ultra-bloody octogenarian still trying to reload his weapon and seek vengeance. The dude actually survived the entire war, finally dying in 1793 at the age of 98 from extreme old age and awesomeness. A 2005 act of the Massachusetts legislature declared him an official state hero, and today he has one of the most badass historical markers of all time.


Saturday, April 20, 2019

Nigerian Muslims kill 17 Christians after baby’s dedication


JOS, Nigeria (Morning Star News) – Muslim Fulani herdsmen killed 17 Christians who had gathered after a baby dedication at a church in central Nigeria, including the mother of the child, sources said.
Safaratu John Kabiru Ali, the mother of the baby, was slain in the attack on Sunday (April 14) in Konshu-Numa village, in Nasarawa state’s Akwanga County, which also took the lives of people ranging in age from 10 to 80. The baby’s father, John Kabiru Ali, was shot and is in critical condition, sources said. He is receiving treatment at the Intensive Care Unit of the Federal Medical Centre, Keffi, in Nasarawa state.
The attack took place at about 7 p.m. as Christians in the predominantly Christian community gathered to eat after the child was dedicated that morning at the Ruhaniya Baptist Church in the village.
The massacred Christians were buried on Wednesday (April 17) after a funeral service at the Baptist church.
A resident of Akwanga town who lost relatives in the shooting, Jacob Tantse, told Morning Star News that 17 Christians were killed, including 10 members of the Ruhaniya Baptist Church, five members of Evangelical Reformed Church of Christ (ERCC), one member of the Evangelical Church Winning All (ECWA), and a musician playing for guests.
Tantse identified those killed as Ali Nkene, 80; Gode Kako, 13; Afiniki Kako, 10; Matthew Emmanuel, 28; Tafiya Baya, 17; Sarakuna Haruna, 21; Amos Julius, 60; Mary Amos, 40; Sunday Adebayo John, 21; Talatu Mada, 40; Saratu Kabiru John, 21; Justina Barrau, 60; Simon Anfani, 37; Kadon Sule, 20; Ayuba Bulus, 11; Haruna Bawa, 22; and the musician, Samame Andaha, 28.
He also said eight Christians, including the host of the event, John Kabiru Ali, were wounded in the attack.
“They include members of the various congregations of the Baptist, Catholic, and ERCC churches,” Tantse said….

Robert Spencer: “These incidents are really happening, and they’re happening more and more frequently. In the West, meanwhile, those who speak about them are vilified as 'Islamophobes' and steadily defamed, deplatformed, and silenced. Silencing news of such incidents, however, will not prevent them from happening, even, eventually, in the U.S.”




'The skyline of London looks like Dubai'


My wife said that about a month ago. If the present government of Europe has its way, a rebuilt Notre Dame will be the beginning of a Paris skyline to rival that of London.

“President Macron said that he wanted the cathedral restored within five years—in time for the opening of the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris. It would be hard to think of a more kitsch idea in the Soviet tradition than this.”



Not my circus, not my monkey. Or elephant


To hunt or not to hunt? Will African governments rely on polls of Americans?

“While human populations and the concomitant demand for land continue to grow in both Botswana and Zimbabwe, so are their elephant numbers. One estimate coming from the Zambezi Society puts the elephant population of what is now known as Zimbabwe at a paltry 4,000 in 1900, when the country was very sparsely populated. Against a backdrop of a massive increase in the number of people, there are now over 80,000, and that is despite the culling of roughly 45,000 between 1960 and 1990.

“Neighboring Botswana, part of the same ecosystem, and about which the present controversy swirls, is home to approximately 130,000 elephants, the largest population of them in Africa, and parts of the country, particularly the Chobe area, are being ecologically devastated as a result of the overconcentration of animals.

Or:

1900 elephant population – 4,000.
1960-1990 elephants killed – 45,000.
2019 elephant population – 80,000+

Link at maggiesfarm.




Thursday, April 18, 2019

It’s the grammar, stupid


From an Ace of Spades linked story about a man who built his own Lamborghini: “The amount of time and energy that must have went…”


The writer must have spent a lot of time not wenting to English classes. It’s “gone,” dufus. G-o-n-e.



NC teachers call for May 1 school closing


If you know history, what does this sound like?

“Solidarity Request!!! PLEASE SHARE WIDELY!!!
“Hey educator union fam:
“I'm writing this because our squad in North Carolina is calling for a statewide day of action on May 1st around the following 5 demands. Last year, we shut down 42 school systems, put 30,000 people in the streets, defeated fear and hopelessness among our colleagues, and unseated the privatizer supermajorities in both houses of our state legislature. We've been building stronger and stronger and now we're pushing for another big day in the streets.” – Somebody named Bryan Proffitt.

“…day of action…” “5 demands…”

If only Proffitt had included some wreckers in that “call for action,” his writing would sound even more like a Stalinist demand from the 1930s.

The teachers should have their “day of action,” of course, because…kids. And the Future.


Link at ace.mu.nu.

The turnip truck does not come down our street

Only minutes ago my wife got an "Unknown caller" call on her telephone. The recorded voice said "There are legal actions pending against your Social Security number." The voice said my wife should immediately call (a number). The number had a 202 area code, which means it, ostensibly, is in Washington, D.C. 

My wife, possessor of unusual intelligence and common sense, said she would not do as the Unknown Caller advised. 

The Social Security Administration does not make such calls, but thieves do. 

Attorney general’s report


Attorney General Robert Barr said he found no collusion with Russians, nor did he find any evidence that President Trump acted in any way to obstruct justice.

Barr’s findings will not satisfy Democratic leaders. Those people will continue to call Trump an “illegal president” and will accuse Barr of lying for the president.

Those people will be satisfied only when we are gone and they can run the country without opposition.

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

US military and its CYA mental health program


All branches of the armed forces claim to support people who undergo mental evaluation and treatment, but all too often that is a lie.

I only recently learned that after coming home from deployment to a war zone, soldiers are asked questions concerning combat activities, questions such as whether the soldier ever saw a dead body, saw American dead, handled remains or was involved in an IED incident that might have produced psychological or brain trauma.

A “Yes” answer to any question immediately leads to appointments with psychologists and/or psychiatrists.

Medical appointments mean a soldier is not available for every-day duty. More troubling is supervisors or commanders who see mental health appointments as an indication of weakness. That opinion is transferred to soldiers, who then might question their own competence.

To avoid leaders’ ideas of weakness, soldiers lie. I did not see any dead bodies. I did not handle the remains of American dead. I received three IED attack, but not close enough to cause damage.

Military commanders despise anything that hampers their pre-conceived ideas of what a soldier should be and the amount of damage a soldier can take before his performance degrades.

The best treatment does not involve mental health professionals, but other soldiers who have experienced the same events. Generally, a mental health professional knows only what he/she learned from books and has absolutely no idea what a soldier does. And in today’s military, mental health professionals are likely to be civilians who have zero military experience.
In establishing its present mental health treatment program, the armed services did nothing but set up a system of check the boxes so as to make their civilian political bosses happy and give those bosses a platform from which to say, “See, we are doing something.” That the something does not work is a matter of little meaning to military leaders and their political bosses.

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Socialism courtesy of Gucci, Mercedes and Hollywood


“A political machine that promotes socialism in Gucci couture, from a bevy of mansions, while driving European supercars is unlikely to be convincing.


Link at woodpilereport.com



An artistic friend posted:


Sooooo, I bought 15 pounds of broken Talavera tile off eBay to use in mosaics. It was supposed to be delivered today and I was all excited, anticipating what I can do with this gorgeous tile.
This morning I get a text telling me it is out for delivery. Then mid afternoon I get an "exception" text telling me the package was damaged and has been sent back to the sender.
Can't talk to me before you send it back?!? Geez Louise! Of course it is damaged, you idiots, it is a shipment of broken tile!!!!!