Amazing article in the Huffington Post.

Radley Balko does a very nice job of presenting the readily-obtainable facts from the FBI's U.C.R., which are easy to digest and which clearly refute our vice president's contention that police today are outgunned.

"There were fewer police being murdered, fewer police being outgunned when the assault weapons ban, in fact, was in existence," Biden said.
That last sentence simply false, on both counts. So is Biden's general premise.

Go read. This is a very clear, very easy-to-understand article, with simple graphs.

Femtophotography.

I've always been impressed with the 1/millionth second photography. Bullets through apples, milk splashing, stuff like that. It's still amazing.

But it hadn't occurred to me how we could use lasers and digital cameras hooked up to serious computer processing to take faster pictures.

We can view images of light passing through small semi-transparent substrates in realtime perceptible time.

Watch this video, and be awed:

Meanwhile, up in Tam's back yard:

A naked Hoosier daddy gets his ninja on.
Wow.

Some cops need to learn some basic control techniques. I saw WAY too much dependence on TASER, there. With that amount of manpower, this guy should have been no problem. Get astraddle the guy above the waist, control his head, and get the cuffs on fast. But for entertainment value, the surprise ending was pretty impressive.

Flying squid

Are fascinating.

Even when they're terrifying in their sexual assault of humans.

That is all.

Yet another reason why I really don't check in with Fox News.

Honestly, I'd rather listen to NPR.

I've always known that NPR had a liberal bias, but bless their pink little hearts, they think that they're being balanced, and I genuinely believe that they think that they're trying to get the balanced story. Given the length of the soundbites, I can usually form my own conclusions. Hell, I'll say it right here and now: I've donated money to my member station (mostly because the music was superb.).

But Fox News? Their attitude seems to be: "We know that the others are putting out nothing but liberally-biased crap. To balance this, we must-- MUST! spin our news toward our vision of the conservative viewpoint!"   This, to me, is actually worse than what NPR or the rest do. It's intentionally and openly putting spin on things.

But that's not what I'm here to point out, tonight. The bone that I'm picking here is that some editor with Fox Sports News missed a unique opportunity.  In reporting a new world record for the number of fat-laden greasy chicken wings (337!) consumed in a given period of time (30 minutes!!) with the doubtlessly unpleasant consequences, Fox Sports News did NOT post:

 "Kobayashi The Victor In No-Win Contest."

This gives me a sad.

Wait.

PigPen plays the upright acoustic bass?

It's far easier to accept that Snoopy plays the guitar.

Might want to check those stats....

According to the Ohio Dept. of Natural Resources, Division of Wildlife, there are no cougars in the state anymore.

 

 

They have admitted that there have in the past few years been some sightings of bears in the eastern end of the state, but they're still not considered to be reintroduced.

 

 

My research, however, has found ZERO evidence that the O.D.N.R. is willing to admit the presence of Face-Eating Monkeys in their midst.

 

 

As our constant friend Phlegmmy reminds us, there are deeper traumas that can be inflicted to a person by a monkey.

Remember the collar-bomber bank heist story?

Back in August, 2003, pizza delivery man Brian Wells robbed a bank with a bomb locked around his neck. When the cops caught him, he sat on the ground in front of a police car, while they all waited for the bomb squad. On camera, he exploded 15 minutes later.

Well, Wired Magazine writer Rich Schapiro wrote a superb story on that case, which really, finally gives us The Rest Of The Story.

Go read.

Project A Kon

And speaking of Larry Correia, that reminds me-- I ran into a guy dressed out as one of his characters out of his excellent series of Monster Hunters International books.

He was very nice, and let me take his picture. I mentioned that I'd been a moderator with Larry at The Firing Line and The High Road for some time, and he asked if I wanted a patch. I've never gotten an MHI patch, so I was excited to get this one. I think that I'm going to sew it onto my patrol bag. I may put velcro on the back, and put it on my department gas mask bag, or on my fast response bag.

I ran into the guy at A-Kon, an anime convention for serious nerds. What was I doing at A-Kon, you may ask? Well, I think that I was being a good daddy. See, my elder daughter and her best friends have gotten deep into reading all manner of Japanese cartoon books called Manga. They watch videos of Japanese anime. They copy hundreds of Japanese pop songs in MP3 format to trade among each other to play on their iPods and phones and convert to CD format to play on my dadgummed car stereo when we go places.

So when my 12 year old daughter, who had just been recognized by Duke TIP as a really bright kid for doing exceptionally well on the SAT in 7th grade, got all A's for the six weeks, the semester, and the school year, she was getting a big reward. And she wanted A-Kon. I took her and her two best friends.

Folks, I've been to a few county fairs, a goat ropin', and I've seen ducks copulate, but I've never seen anything like this.

We drove into downtown Dallas to the hotel. No parking for blocks. We finally drove into a parking garage that was almost full, for $18 to park. We walked into the hotel amidst hundreds-- nay-- thousands of people dressed in various costumes. My daughter was not in costume, but she had dyed her bangs aqua (hey, they grow out). She was so normal-looking, that she was almost invisible. I just wore khakis and comfortable shoes. I was invisible.

We walked in as the conga line of several hundred passed us. The leader was a belly dancer with 8 foot butterfly wings of gold. Following her were all manner of costumed nerds who were in their natural habitat, mostly between the ages of 14 and 30.

It was as if, repressed of their chance to be social during their daily lives, these youngsters had finally found Their People, and took the opportunity to crawl out of their shells. They were jubilant. When they found someone in a similar costume, depicting the same character that they had come dressed as, they didn't get upset. Indeed, they would happily embrace, as would long-lost friends who had finally reunited. I saw this over and over again. They minded not at all if you asked to take a picture of them (or better yet, with them). It was a high compliment, and the most popular had worked on their poses. My daughter was a little jealous of her friend who was repeatedly recognized for the character whose costume she wore.

I paid the registration fee for all four of us. But that was it. (Besides snacks, lunch, supper, and a little help with a pin when a girl came up short.)

We saw furries, cross-dressers, perverts, and robots, both real and imagined. We saw storm troopers. We saw girl storm troopers. We saw video game characters. We saw faux Florentine fencing demonstrations. We saw people dressed as stone angels. We saw browncoats. We saw steampunks. We saw movie heroines. We saw superheroes. We saw strange mixes of culture that defied explanation. It was a throng of nerd-dom, taking up three stories of the hotel.

And next year, if she gets all A's, I'll take her to do it again.

Necessary evils.

Every once in a while you run across a piece of bureaucracy that is not only needed, but which does its job pretty well.

I called TCLEOSE today with a couple of questions about my peace officer's license, and was struck yet again by how courteous and helpful their small staff always is in helping me with finding out the information that I need. I've heard that their staff is around 20 people, managing the licensing, credentials, and certificates for:

74,913 Peace Officers
283 Reserve Licensees
24,047 Jailers
2,366 Temporary Jailers
8,843 Telecommunicators
940 Temporary Telecommunicators

By my calculator's count, that's 111,392 police, jailer, and telecommunicator licenses that they keep up with. (Note: many of those licenses are redundant. It's not uncommon for a jailer to go to police academy and get his peace officer's license carried, and then also to occasionally work as a telecommunicator as well.)

Every time that I've talked to those people, they were able to get me the information that I needed, and were pleasant. Not just "human," but genuinely pleasant to deal with.

Look, so long as we're going to be licensing peace officers and jailers and the ilk, we'd better have training requirements and such. And if we're going to do that, then we've got to have people administering the licensing. So isn't it nice that these people, paid by taxpayers' dollars and licensing fees, are actually doing a decent job of it?

I may actually send an attaboy letter to their director, I'm so impressed.

A retraction.

A month or so ago, I wrote about Dr. Bill Holda's misstatements about the Killeen massacre. The statements were harsh contrasts to historical reality, and were being used to explain his position against concealed carry on the campus of the college over which he presides.

I declared him a liar.

It would seem that I was wrong: he was simply not educated on the matter, and is doing what he can to educate himself.

Popgun has contacted Dr. Holda, and invited the college president and his wife out for an educational day of shooting.

Go read. Seriously. It's a remarkable story.

Dr. Holda is thinking outside of the box that he had been led into.

For that, I applaud him.

I formally retract my declaration. A large note will be placed on my original post.
----
H/T to Tam, and a bigger tip of the hat to PopGun. GREAT job, friend!

Greatness in headlines:

Discovery News reports that Radioactive Boars are on the rise in Europe.

As Tam said of her local face-eating monkey situation: "the moment for which I have prepared all my adult life is finally here."

Which gun for RADIOACTIVE Russian boars?

Lemme get this straight:

TSA screeners get paid about as much or more than city cops on the street.

They receive the same protections and authorities under the law as real police.

They are training their new recruits to make derogatory remarks about the genitalia of those pass through the screening devices?

Friends, the security theater isn't working. What we should have done, September 12, 2001, was require secure doors on the cockpits of common air carriers, allow the pilots to go armed, and gone on with business as usual. Because we did not, the terrorists have won in ways that they never imagined.

______________

Hat tip to Unc, by way of Tam.

More proof that money doesn't buy happiness...

...it just buys the THINGS that make us happy.

About a week ago, I remarked to my wife that our second-hand, 11 year-old mattress was just about worn out. I had been waking up with some knots in my back, and was noting that I had to climb up out of the trough in my side of the bed, and up from the rather low bed edge (20" off the floor, by my tape.).

We started talking about how to finance a bed. Local place had a deal for no interest, no payments for a year, or even two years, if you spent enough. We began talking about it, in a leisurely fashion. Beds cost several hundred dollars, and in my house, such purchases are not made without due consideration.

Then, this Saturday, my wife said, "Uh, honey...? Come look at this." My wife, a week before, had bought a Texas Lottery scratch-off, on a lark. We both consider lottery tickets and scratch-off tickets to be a voluntary tax for people who are bad at math, but we also both agree with Robert A. Heinlein when he said, "Of course the game is rigged. But don't let that stop you. If you don't bet, you can't win." Last year I think I bought a single lotto ticket, and my wife estimates that she bought $16 worth. I believe her; I've NEVER seen any evidence of her purchasing them. No crumpled up tickets or scratched cards in the trash or in her purse, or in her car. I've seen her once or maybe twice buy one with a soft drink at a convenience store, to swap turns scraping off the silver coatings from the hidden numbers. Purely for occasional entertainment, and nothing else.

Well, this ticket had a set up where "three of a kind for each hand wins." There were four hands of 5 playing cards, and each hand had a dollar amount next to it. My bride presented me with a card with 3 of a kind in all four hands, and the combined amount was... $2000!!!

I said, "Bull! We're mis-reading this." I read the fine print, front and back.

Then I questioned the card's authenticity.

Finally, we saddled up and bought us a Sealy AirSpring pillowtop mattress with box springs, delivered, with old-bed haul-away. It arrived Sunday afternoon. We sprung for the non-crinkly, breathy kind of dust mite cover, and a memory foam pillow for me.

My wife collected the very real check for Two Thousand Dollars & 00/100's from the local Texas Lottery Commission place today, and declined to have her picture taken by an annoyed clerk, who told her, "If privacy is a concern for you, then next time buy your ticket in another town." Yeah. Will do, chief.

It's our first-ever brand-new bed.

After my second sleep on this bed, I can categorically report that this is the best purchase that we've ever made for us as a couple. And the leftover cash paid for the last of our superwasher.

The lesson here? Well, I don't know if there is one, other than that a new bed brings good sleep, and good sleep makes Matt a happy man.

Clamshell holsters.

Among the stupider inventions that I've seen for toting a handgun around is the clamshell holster. When I mentioned that Season 3 of Adam-12 presented "the silliest floppy pivot holsters you've ever seen," I wasn't slamming articulated drop holsters as a whole-- just the ones these guys (and presumably all of LAPD, given the fervent attention to detail that Jack Webb put into his procedurals) had to carry. When you have to carry a full-sized revolver openly in uniform, a pivot is a mighty handy way to carry it in a drop holster format, so that it's fast to draw, but still easy to sit down with. None too concealable, but in uniform, that's not a concern.

Having never used such a contraption personally, I can say by looking at them that the problems with these clam shell holsters appear to be rife.

First and foremost, they pretty much demanded two hands or a lot more attention than should be necessary to re-holster. Friends, I'll tell you right now that being able to reholster one-handed and without unnecessarily-divided attention is one of the most important practical gun-related skills of police work. Smoothly securing your sidearm and efficiently bringing both hands to bear on the person whom you'd previously felt needed a gun pointed at is a skill that can keep a touchy transition from Going Badly Quickly.

Secondly, they flop so much that they seem to require two hands to open on occasion, and indeed that happens here, as demonstrated by Officer Reed*:

Officer Malloy, on the right, seems capable of drawing his revolver one-handed.

Note, too, that the spring-loaded clamshells spring open on hinges in the back. If the latch comes undone, the holster drops your gun on the ground. In most holsters, if the retention strap breaks, you can still carry your gun in it. These guys would have to put their gun in their pockets. Note how the holster, when the gun is drawn, is twice as big, and flops on one's hip like a stringer of fish.

Now, it's true that the holster protected the revolver from the elements, and covered the trigger guard. But... Elements? It was El Lay! They have the most consistently decent weather in the country!

Dumb. Somewhere, about the time I was born, a brass hat with LAPD made a goofball decision when those were ordered. I wonder how long they lasted?

__________________________________

*9:00 minutes in.

Shocked. Shocked!

Comes now promoter of the BigFoot find, who just figured out that the BFIF (Big Foot In the Freezer) was rubber. He just wants to set the record straight, and clear the air.

Seems the two LE types who brought it to him might've fibbed, a tad.

Anybody else sense a promotion to Detective?

Heh.

EDIT:
The two law enforcement types (a cop and a jail medic) have absconded with the money. The cop's been fired. No word on the medic. Fraud charges and civil suits are pending.

Big Foot = Big fake.

Okay, that's kind of a let-down.

I mean, I was thinking "they got an old chimp from a collector, or from a zoo or a failing circus. Or maybe they got a bear. Yeah, a black bear."

But a 'possum?!?

Strange that my wife and I were just talking tonight about how amazing it is, that in this world of about 7 billion people, we still occasionally find new species. Sure, most of 'em are from under water. Or really, really small. But there are new species to be found, it seems. They just aren't 7 feet tall, wandering undetected through the shrinking wilderness in a state of 9.3 million people.

Dayum.

I'm not much of a sports person, but I'm astonished that the sports broadcasts aren't plastering Dara Torres' story all over the airwaves.

The first U.S. swimmer to compete in her FIFTH Olympics, Dara Torres yesterday earned a silver medal for anchoring the 4×100 meters women's relay swimming event, at 41 years of age.

But she's not just a team event competitor; she's still got her chops on her own. Last year, she broke her own U.S. record in 50 m freestyle, a cool 26 years after she set the damn record. Then she did it again, on the same day.

Nine Olympic medals, and counting.

Oh yeah... and she's hawt.

Tell me again why the felonious football players get all the airtime on the sports broadcasts?

Wild turkey for breakfast.

When do you see lots of dove flying? The week before dove season.
When do you see lots of croissants on sale? The day after you start a no-carb diet.
When do you see wild turkey? The year you didn't get a turkey stamp.

OR:

Yesterday, I got home from my deep night shift, and was eating breakfast with my family, when I saw something out the window that surprised the heck out of me. Okay, not the fact that I really, really need to mow-- that's a given. (Hey, it's been raining a lot, lately, and... and... okay, I'm a lazy ass, and will do it right after I hit SEND on this post.)


What I saw was a wild turkey, strutting around.


Do I have a hunting license? Yep. Is it spring turkey season? Yep. Do I have a turkey stamp? Sure.
But...
A: It's a hen. Spring season is gobblers only.
B: We live in town. Even if it were a gobbler, harvesting your own turkey is a no-no.
C. My wife would have thrown a fit, even if A and B were not at issue.

So we enjoyed taking pictures through the window. When it flew over the fence into the neighbor's yard, we took pictures over the fence as it strutted around on the neighbor's trampoline. My wife stood on a chair and caught some digital video of her as the neighbor's dog went charging up on the hen, causing her to run and then fly right over our heads. It's amazing how fast a 14 to 18 pound turkey can run and fly, cupping huge scoops of air in massive wings, sounding like enormous quail as they rise over your head. As I stood to my wife's right, the turkey missed my head peeking over the six-foot fence by about 2 feet-- I easily could have grabbed her feet as she passed over, to land in a distant pecan tree.


Wild kingdom.

You can almost see the thought bubble above the dog's head: "Aw, shucks!"

From last night's shift...

Traffic stop:
Thought, but not actually said out loud:
Ma'am, flirting with me isn't actually effective at getting out of a citation.
The only reason I was glancing down your camisole was, uh, to check for, uh, weapons. And I'm not generally one to write for a headlight out, anyhow. And when I ask if I've pulled you over before, it's because I really don't remember, and you do actually look faintly familiar-- not as a "Hey baby, you violate here often?" Come-on line. So get over yourself. And put a jacket on, for criminey's sake. It's chilly out.

- - -
Radio traffic jaw dropper:
Another agency is dispatched to a call in which the caller reports that someone has tampered with his alarm system, and now hears someone walking around inside the house, with a light that he sees moving about. No one has access to the house. The caller runs upstairs with his family. "No weapons of any kind in the house." ends the broadcast. In Texas.

So. How's that working out for you, dude?

- - -
Traffic stop:
Ma'am, I notice that you didn't present your Concealed Handgun License, as is required when you are stopped while armed. Oh, you're not packing tonight? Well why not? You went to all the trouble of a background check, hours and hours of classroom instruction, and qualifying with your pistol. Oh, you haven't shot it in a while, and want more proficiency? Well let me ask you: Do you think that you can simply carry it safely? You do? Well why not do that, and make the consideration, when the bad guy is at Bad Breath Distance, whether you might be able to make effective use of your gat which you haven't shot a lot of, lately? We like to see our good citizens able to defend themselves. Uh huh. Well thank you for your courtesy, ma'am, and please slow down.

- - -
Traffic stop:
That's quite a meat smoker you've got back there, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one bigger. I especially like the fold down step that chains up, and the smokestack that looks like it was cannibalized from HMS Queen Mary. Uh, mind the power lines up the way. 48 hams in there, you say? Man. That's a lot of pig. Haw. You're right, that's a good one. Nope, I've never eaten a smoked donut, but I'm sure they make 'em. Listen, it'd be real good if you could get some lights and reflectors and registration and safety chains on this trailer. Well, yes sir, I realize that it's technically a smoker, but the State Of Texas says that if your smoker rolls on wheels behind your pickup and is pulled by your ball hitch, it's also a trailer. Well, actually, they'd call this a "semi-trailer," because the axles...
...you know what? Never mind. Where are you heading with this thing?
Okay. Why don't I just escort you down there, to keep you from getting rear-ended? Right on.
Wagons ho.
Or smokers. Or semi-trailers. Whatever.