Good Music Friday

It’s best if we never speak of this abomination of a week again.
In fact, I barely even want to discuss all of the fucked up shit happening in the world at the moment, because we already know which way the compass is pointing. Look at the sidebar – we’ve been at ROMAN HOLIDAY for weeks. I’ve been way behind on updating the Dead Bankers, because they’ve been dropping like flies. We’re approaching 100 at this point, I just haven’t had the time to go back through my data and pull them out.
Although an incredibly awful thing happened at a college in Oregon yesterday. Three handguns and an AR-15 rifle massacred a couple of dozen people all by themselves, with no human animus whatsoever. It was the damnedest thing.
Beyond that, it’s still hot as all Hell around here, and I’m ready for all of the fall weather that the consumer trappings in all the stores has been prepping me for since the Fourth of July. No sign of it yet.
I heard tell of an interesting college out here in California where, instead of a community college for the first two years, you go live and work on a cattle ranch out in Death Valley. Down time is spent in class with your professors, who also work the ranch. After two years, you transfer out with an associate’s degree and the general ed requirements complete, and you haven’t had to pay a dime because your labor on the ranch settled your tuition.
Of course, I still think just going to work on a cattle ranch would be a better idea overall, but I think this college’s model will be replicated in an array of fields until, spoiler alert, we’re right back where we started with the apprentice model of trade acclimation.
I’m knocking the fuck off early. Fuck the day, fuck the week. Get ‘em in and have a bitchin’ weekend.


Ride On
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Albert Productions | 1976

Punting Is For Pussies, And Always Has Been

There’s a renegade high school football coach who never has his team punt, at all, in any situation. This renegade, at the high school level, has seen great success with this operable philosophy, and it is with great amusement that I laugh at those who can’t wrap their heads around WHY such an approach would work, because there are a lot of them.
Of course, one of the problems here is that this schism puts me on the side of nouveau-geek advanced stat freaks, but broken clocks and all that. Sure, there is a simple argument for probability revealed in the stats – teams that go for it on fourth down have an incredibly good chance of converting, but this shouldn’t be surprising – doing so gives you another chance; over the long term, consistently going for it on fourth down gives you 25% more chances to succeed. The more chances you have to succeed, the probability of you succeeding increases. That, coupled with the fact that while you still have the ball, your opponent doesn’t, because possession really is 9/10ths of the matter here.
This shouldn’t be staggeringly shocking.
Beyond the stats nerds, there’s also the straight-forward argument that shifting from a model where you run a minimum of three plays to one where you run a minimum of four increases the amount of time, energy and effort the opponent’s defense must expend on stopping you. Over the course of the game, these extra plays add up, especially if they are conditioned to play against more traditional three-down offenses. This opens things up as the game wears on, thus decreasing the threat of short fields. Plus, you can use the roster spot you would waste on a punter can be used for much-needed depth at injury prone positions elsewhere.
But even this isn’t it.
Punting is for pussies.
In a sport where one of the primary necessities is a team full of players amped up out of their minds to BASH THEMSELVES INTO THEIR ENEMIES WITH WRECKLESS ABANDON, telling them to do so while playing it safer than an Englishman’s breakfast is a great way to lose a game. Demand that your guys put the hammer down and then call the game in the same way? Watch them run into brick walls for you and thank you for the privilege. Football requires a scorched earth mentality, and punting it away to the other team when you could go for it again wears down this mentality.
Fourth and 7?
Go for it. Successful or not, your team will be flying out there like their hair’s on fire looking to wreak things.
That’s what wins football games consistently.
This mental fortitude carries over into life generally. Half the reason we’re in the decline is because for far too long we’ve played it safe, we’ve punted when we should have kept the hammer down, we took the short-term safety of kicking away instead of grinding out another down, and then another down, and so on, that when added all up would have meant that, win or lose, at least the outcome was one we determined rather than one dictated to us by outside forces.
This is the way it should be in our minds.

Range Report


So I got to futz around with a rifle I’ve really had my eye on for a long while, the Mossberg 464 “tactical” SPX, and it’s cousin, the “non-tactical” 464 SPX with marine coating. Both were 30-30.
I am sad.
Both rifles, lever action, look good and feel comfortable shooting. The “tactical” version has a six-position stock that can fit just about everyone. It looks like a badass rifle.
And even when you shoot it, it feels like a badass rifle.
Until you trip the lever and try to get the next round chambered.
Try and try and try and try.
The damn thing just can’t feed at all. It kept catching on every single round because it was pushing the round too high up. WAY too high up. On one of them, it simply ejected the round entirely.
Then the front site fell off.
For the “non-tactical” version, it had the same cycling problem AND the “grip safety” was damn near impossible to engage. Round after round after round, each bullet caught, most trigger-pulls doing nothing, then squeezing the lever more, and on and on. And the front site got so loose it was just about to fly off as well. Also, something in the action kept catching internally. I could feel a hitch every time I jacked the lever, even when I was just trying to dry cycle the thing.
It really is too bad.
I wanted to love these rifles, and I wanted to buy at one of them.
Oh well.
Avoid these rifles.
They might get you killed if you rely on them at the wrong time.

Good Music Friday

Sometimes Fridays are rough, like running the last 10 yards of a 100-yard dash at full tilt. It’s the end, you know it’s the end, worse, your body knows it’s the end, but you still have to push through it. Often that doesn’t end well. On a day like this, it’s a little easier, upon the news that Chief Squish and Chicken Choker John Boehner is boning out of the Top Spot in the House, and as El Borak notes, heading off to greener pastures on K Street, because orange runs a lot faster than green at any rate. The weeping vagina from Ohio will be just fine, and hey, he got to gladhand Commie Pope, so his life’s pretty much downhill from here however you slice it.
I also note that the Communist from Vermont is besting the Criminal from Little Rock in the New Hampshire primary polls, and the FBI seems to be dithering between charging Clinton staffers with multiple felonies for violating the Espionage Act, charging the Criminal from Little Rock along with her underlings, or letting the whole thing go; that FBI technicians were able to recover the “wiped” emails from the subpoenaed server, I’m guessing it won’t be the last option. Also, word comes of a “contentious” Oval Office meeting between the Criminal from Little Rock and Our Simple Affirmative Action President, where the Criminal from Little Rock screamed at Our Simple Affirmative Action President to “call off the fucking dogs!” to which Our Simple Affirmative Action President replied “It’s a problem of your own making.”
We’ll see if that bears out.
After a week of market chaos indicating that the Fed’s status quo on the raising of the rate fell on deaf ears, now comes “hints” that Yellen WAS just Yellen Dixie, and may actually go ahead and raise rates, because if there’s anything The Market loves, it’s vague volatility born from an uncertain short-term future.
That’s your word of the week.
And I love every damn second of it.
Closer to home, I found 80 acres of pretty sweet land in Montana, and I cannot tell you how near I am to just taking one of those briefcases of cash I keep getting offered for this shit-hovel of a house, checking out and semi-retiring. I’d have to build a home on it, and figure out power – it’s too far off the grid for service, which is a bonus for me, less so for the wife – but it has fresh water creeks running all through it, its own lake, and a private road that runs four miles from the highway to the first usable clearing. Casa de Huckleberry? Fuck that noise. Fort Huckleberry sounds pretty fucking sweet.
I’m so close to doing this, you have no idea.
Another flop-sweat-and-ball-sticking heat wave is set for the weekend, and I’ve got a few things outside I have to get done, so I can hardly wait for that low-boil agony. Also have a big UCLA football game minus one of the best linebackers in the country, who’s out for the season, his junior season, so I expect his next football will be played for the Minnesota Vikings, because the Minnesota Vikings love them some UCLA linebackers. And this kid, Myles Jack, is the best one yet. If you like Anthony Barr, you’ll love Jack. Speaking of the Vikings, the Chargers are heading to the Twin Cities, and the last time that happened, Adrian Peterson earned the nickname All Day racking up 296 rushing yards to set the single-game record that still stands eight years later. So that should make for a fun Sunday morning for your old pal Huckleberry.
Get ‘em the Hell in and have a bitchin’ weekend.


Make Me A Sandwich
Live Performance
David The Good
The ATF Show | April 12, 2013

BREAKING >>> House Speaker Bravely Runs Away

Tears of a clown, baby:

Speaker John A. Boehner, under intense pressure from conservatives in his party, will resign one of the most powerful positions in government and give up his House seat at the end of October, throwing Congress into chaos as it tries to avert a government shutdown. Mr. Boehner, who was first elected to Congress in 1990, made the announcement in an emotional meeting with his fellow Republicans on Friday morning.

434 to go, but in all seriousness the schadenfreude is great on this weary Friday morning, but all the money in my pockets says this tool spends the next month ramming shit through like there’s no tomorrow, because there’s an outside shot there isn’t.
But if you love institutional chaos as much as I do, the holidays are here early.

The Fix Is In For Commie Pope


So a little five year old girl from Los Angeles born of illegal parents just happened to make her way to Washington, DC to see Commie Pope’s PopeWagon Motorcade, hops the barricade, gets stopped by security, when Commie Pope just happens to notice the commotion and calls security off while motioning for the five year old girl to come on over to his rolling PopeWagon Motorcade, where the five year old girl from Los Angeles born of parents from Mexico hands Commie Pope, from Italy by way of Argentina, a letter in Washington, DC, a well-composed letter written in Spanish and then read awkwardly in English by the five year old girl almost immediately after handing the letter to Commie Pope to a gaggle of reporters who got the story almost immediately.
Seems legit.