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Kenosha Shooting Views

September 3, 2020 / / 0 Comments

It’s been a week, so it’s about time for me to prognosticate. First, here’s a good analysis from Colion Noir.

So, here are my thoughts:
1. Unless you are protecting your property or the property of your close circle, I wouldn’t recommend going near a riot. The best gun fight is the one you’re not in. Yet, this young man was drawn to the situation, as were many others. Based on the statements in the above video, as well as other items I’ve picked up, the young man had honorable intentions for involving himself.

  1. As to the actual shooting, I’m in agreement with Colion (and many others), that the young man acted properly. He shot to stop immediate threats. He stopped shooting when the threats stopped being threats. He did not shoot others who were not threats. He immediately went to the police. I’ve listened/read hundreds of defensive gun uses where adults didn’t conduct themselves as well.

  2. As to the fact that the two dead men and the wounded men had violent criminal histories, I don’t think that’s relevant to the immediate shooting. The young man had no way of knowing their backgrounds. Only that they were at the riot, like many other people. Some who probably had violent criminal histories, but some who had no criminal histories at all. The only information this young man had was that he was being attacked by multiple individuals who expressed their intention to “Get that motherfucker.”

  3. That being said, their criminal histories are relevant in the case of a felon being in possession of a firearm. I haven’t seen where the injured individual has been arrested for that felony. Meanwhile, the prosecutor is trying to assuage the mob with Murder One charges against the young man. There’s a lesson there.

F’ing Roller Coaster Weeks

September 2, 2020 / / 0 Comments

In case you’re wondering why I had no Wednesday or Thursday posts last week, there were happenings.

The week started out with the dishwasher making a wonderful screeching noise. We call the appliance guy to find out he’s out of business. We find this out when The Wife gets a voicemail greeting of “I’m not the appliance person. I will not fix your stuff. I am a high school student.” I sympathize with the kid. Growing up, our dial-up line (kids ask your parents) was the old number of a Dominos.

Then, middle of the week, we get a new niece. I still think newborns look weird. I don’t understand why everyone thinks they’re cute. Still love the little one. Need to come up with a term of endearment for her. I’m thinking “pumpkin.”

In the middle of the week, our Toastmasters club had our Humorous Speech and Table Topics contests. I competed in the Table Topics, but didn’t even place. Plus, doing a contest virtually just sucks. I will also say my competition desires are waning.

The rollercoaster continued. After a series of calls, we went up and start the ball rolling on buying a house in one of the new developments that are cropping up around here. If the expected timeline holds, we will be moving into a brand spanking new house at the end of March. Both The Wife and I have been looking at each other with expressions of “what did we just do?” This wasn’t so much a straight incline as much a rising corkscrew.

So, of course, as we hit the high, the roller coaster must send us into a dive. First was work stress. Mainly being put in the position of having my data used wrong, disputing them, and being told “but you gave us those numbers.” Then being chastised for not being on a meeting where they didn’t send the invite. I like that I’m respected enough that my name is used as qualifying value, but not when someone uses it for political games. That, unfortunately, was not the lowest point of the week.

Our oldest cat’s been having problems. He deteriorated rapidly. Friday we took him to his last vet visit. Spike was a sweet cat. He loved being in my lap. To the point of coming up behind me in our office and tugging on my shirt. Sometimes, he figured out how to just plop himself down. A few times while I was on a video conference call. The house is much quieter, and I don’t like it.

By the end of the week, The Wife and I were emotionally exhausted. Also, my predilection for poor food choices and stress eating flared. I was already floating about ten pounds over goal. Now, it’s a bit more. I need to be better, and I need a healthier way. Particularly since my range time is down to zero.

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 5 – Chapter 34

August 31, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Madrid, Spain, 25 June 2010, 1030 hours local; Countdown: 1 year, 5 months, 5 days

The man currently known as Castle casually walked into the conference room. It belonged to one of the newer members of the cabal, or more to the point, her company. She beamed with pride as Castle acknowledged her with a simple nod. The new ones were always so eager to prove themselves. Who knew, this one may actually prove more than just financially useful.

There were fifteen men and women seated around the conference table. All were dressed in stylish business attire. Castle had taken great pains to recruit each person. They all believed they were part of Castle’s inner circle, and he did nothing to dissuade them from that belief. They were the levers by which he would direct the world until it was time to bring his god back into this world.

"Buenos Dias," Castle said in his native Spanish, "I must thank you for all of your support since I began recruiting you. This is especially true as we enter the last eighteen months. We have succeeded in collecting several of Xipe Totec’s blessed tools, but more remain. Fortunately none have fallen into our enemies’ hands." The men and women smiled at each other, enjoying the vicarious success of the cabal’s champion and his minions. Castle’s smiling face grew serious. The men and women quickly picked up on this and copied the solemn expression.

"In the next few days, our plans enter a critical phase," Castle explained, "I need each of you to react quickly and ruthlessly to seize the opportunities that will be presented to you." Castle paused as one of the elder gentlemen motioned to speak. Castle graciously nodded at the bald man.

"What kind of opportunities?" the man asked in a deep earnest voice.

"The kind that happens when the services the world has become dependent upon are suddenly snatched away from them," Castle answered, cryptically. "I apologize for the mystery, but it is necessary. My loyal followers, events are in motion. Everything is critical, including your own reactions. We cannot be undone because you acted too smoothly. Believe me, our enemies will be watching for such things. They know of our existence, but have no idea who we are. We will need to work hard to keep that advantage." There was a murmur of general agreement with Castle’s statement.

"Soon, very soon, we will all witness the coming of Xipe Totec," Castle intoned, "When our lord, the Flayed One, returns, we will all be his most trusted servants. All of us will be granted great power and authority. We will make this world into paradise once more." One by one, the men and women knelt at Castle’s feet to receive a blessing before departing to their regular lives. Castle stayed in the conference room, enjoying the luxury of the room.

"That didn’t take as long as I thought it would," murmured a deep voice from behind. The voice startled Castle, but he didn’t let it show. Castle rotated in the chair to look up at the cabal’s champion.

"Mikhail, it always amuses me that someone as huge as you can slip in unnoticed," Castle said nonchalantly. Mikhail was better known as Giant to Zombie Strike, the organization that was the cabal’s nemesis. They have Mikhail that nickname for good reason. Mikhail was easily over seven feet tall, with a powerful build. He wore a tight-fitting black martial arts costume complete with full mask. From the cabal’s spy in Zombie Strike, Castle knew the group mocked Giant about his choice of a "ninja suit." Castle really didn’t care. What he cared about was the aged leather whip that Mikhail wore coiled at his hip. The Flayed One’s own whip.

"Is your team ready?" Castle asked as Mikhail carefully sat down.

"My helpers are in position," Mikhail answered, "The American, Alan, has already started the ritual with your priests. I just came to make sure that you didn’t want to accompany us as we retrieved the key." Castle shook his head.

"It is not time for me to come out of the shadows quite yet," Castle said. He chuckled at Mikhail’s puzzled look. "We may take them by surprise, but you will be facing Zombie Strike." Mikhail gave Castle a smug smile.

"Good," Mikhail said sharply, "This will give me the chance to kill them."

"Your mission is to retrieve the key," Castle snapped, "Zombie Strike will be dealt with as the prophecies foretell." Mikhail nodded, accepting the rebuke. Wordlessly, the huge man slipped out of the chair and strode silently out the door.

Several hours later, NASA was the first to notice something happening. After almost sixty years of humanity launching stuff into space, there was an impressive amount of junk floating around the planet. Dead satellites, spent rocket boosters, and the like floated in space like flotsam and jetsam. NASA kept an eye on the space trash because any of it could be potentially fatal to a shuttle as it rocketed up to near-earth orbit. It was mostly predictable until one piece or another finally managed to fall out of orbit and incinerate itself in Earth’s atmosphere.

Alarms sounded as large amounts of the space junk began accelerating for no apparent reason. Faced with something completely inexplicable, NASA assumed there was a glitch in their tracking systems. Then, the first GPS satellite went down. Then, a communications satellite. Before NASA alerted governments around the world, ten more satellites were destroyed. As experts scrambled to maintain the fragile network of communications and navigation, the accelerating space debris clumped together into dense balls about the size of large kitchen appliances.

A tracking station in Australia first noticed the debris entering the atmosphere. They were in the middle of projecting a splash-down area when the debris started acting bizarre. Dramatic slowdowns followed by bursts of speeds in wildly changing vectors. The Australians immediately handed the problem off to NORAD. The uniformed specialists coordinated with world governments, trying desperately to get people out of harm’s way. Suddenly, the debris settled into straight trajectories. The NORAD personnel watched helplessly six balls of debris screamed towards Mexico City at several times the speed of sound. Each ball was slightly smaller than a dishwasher, but the dense composition and incredible speed from plummeting through the atmosphere gave each ball the destructive power of a small nuclear bomb.

All six slammed into Mexico City at noon local time. No one noticed the unique pattern of the strikes. No one except Zombie Strike.

Zombie Strike Part 5 Chapter 35

Friday Quote – George Carlin

August 28, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Sooner or later, the people in this country are going to realize the government doesn’t give a fuck about them. The government doesn’t care about you, or your children, or your rights, or your welfare, or your safety. It simply doesn’t give a fuck about you. It’s only interested in its own power. That’s the only thing. Keeping it, and expanding it wherever possible.

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 4 – Chapter 33 – Epilogue

August 24, 2020 / / 1 Comment

Salem, Wyoming, approximately 50 miles west of Laramie, 19 February 2010, 1030 hours local; Countdown: 1 year, 11 months, 11 days

Jim Collins was getting tired of the hospital. The smells, the beds, the food, the nurses coming to check on him every fifteen minutes, it was all putting him on edge. No, it wasn’t the hospital. It was the waiting. Jim was ready to go back to a life he hadn’t lived for almost a quarter-century. The thought of settling down with Jeannie by his side brought an odd sense of peaceful satisfaction.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Jim looked up and felt his jaw drop. Of all the people Jim expected to stop by, Chris Roberts was not even near the list. Jim’s friend and Jeannie’s husband had aged well, with only the slightest hints of graying hair and extra weight. The two men just looked at each other for a tense moment.

"Hey Nate, you mind if I come in?" ventured Chris. Jim, still unable to speak, nodded. Chris ambled across the room and dropped into a chair next to the bed.

"You were expecting Jeannie," Chris said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

"Yeah," Jim said. There wasn’t any point in denying it. Jim was finished sneaking around and hiding. It was time to get everything out in the open. If he’d done that before, maybe none of this would have happened.

"She isn’t coming Nate," Chris said, "We’re leaving Salem, and she didn’t want to tell you goodbye again. We’re taking care of our daughter. We’re taking her to California to a place that can help her."

"She’s my daughter, I’ll take care of her," Jim snapped, feeling his future slide away from him. Chris’s eyes lit with an old rage, but he controlled himself.

"Stephanie’s not yours, Nate," Chris said, barely keeping his voice under control, "I’ve been her father from the time Jeannie got pregnant by you. I’m the one who raised her, while you were on the run. If you try to take her away from me, I will kill you." Jim wanted to scream at Chris, to demand to be a part of his daughter’s life. It was the fear on Chris’s face that stopped Jim. The fear of a man who had seen everything else slip away and was desperate to hold on to the last precious thing in his life.

"Alright Chris, I won’t," Jim gritted out. Chris stood up and walked to the door.

"You know, I really want to hate you," Chris said as he stopped at the door, "I saw the look on Jeannie’s face when she came to see you. She’s never looked that way at me. Even on our wedding day. She would have left me back then, and she will leave me as soon as Stephanie’s better. I should hate you for stealing my wife." Chris paused. "I want to so bad, but you gave me Stephanie. That girl is my world. You might have a good life with Jeannie in the future, but you’ll never have the joy of raising a child with her." The last sentence came out as a curse. Without looking back, Chris walked out of the room.

Kenn Blanchard joined Mateo Cortez in the parking lot of Salem’s small hospital. The Zombie Strike field team leader was puffing away on a cigar as Kenn neared. Mateo noticed Kenn, but was too deep in thought to do more than nod. Kenn pulled out his own stogie and waited for Mateo to finish mentally processing whatever was going on in that head.

"Not one of our shining moments," Mateo finally said. "Bad guy got away with the artifacts. We managed to royally tick off the colonel, who probably won’t be calling us anytime soon, and we’re probably going to lose Jim." Kenn took a long draw on the Monte Cristo before he said anything.

"Matt, you’re beating yourself up again," Kenn said, "No one died this time. The colonel will calm down. It’s not exactly the first time he wasn’t told everything. Alan got away, but I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing him again." Mateo shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t say anything.

"It feels like we’re two steps behind the bad guys," Mateo said after a few moments, "We don’t even know exactly who we’re fighting." The team leader was frustrated.

"Working on that Matt," Kenn said, "Working on that."

####London, United Kingdom, 28 February 2010, 2000 hours local; Countdown: 1 year, 11 months

Simon West poured a tumbler full of his best Scotch and handed it to his guest. The man called himself Castle, although West highly doubted that was his true name. West didn’t care. As long as their business relationship remained profitable, the man could call himself the Governor-General of Australia for all West cared. At least Castle left behind the monster that normally accompanied him. Castle graciously accepted the glass and settled into the plush leather chair.

"So, what do you have for me?" Castle asked, ignoring the usual pleasantries. West slid a manila envelope across the desk. Castle picked up the packet quizzically.

"My man’s most recent report," West said, "Apparently your most recent recruit is a bit on the talkative side. He said some things to Zombie Strike that could expose my man." West was more than annoyed. He had taken great pains to carefully recruit Collin DuBois. It was one of his most cherished accomplishments. Even more than when he killed Big John Summers and ascended to one of the bosses of the London underworld.

"I see," Castle said, "Don’t worry Mr. West. We’ll see that doesn’t happen again. Now how can we make this up to you?" West smiled congenially.

"I would like your help dealing with some upstarts from the Continent that have decided to operate in my territory," West answered. The two men smiled at each other. Both thought they were getting the best of the other man. Only one of them was right.

Zombie Strike Part 5 Chapter 34

Metropolises In Decline

August 20, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Some friends on the Book of Face shared a couple of articles that reinforces my belief that cities, particularly the largest metropolises, are about to enter a depression.

First is an article about the impending death of New York. He makes an interesting case about the damage done by COVID may be the mortal blow.

Second is an article on people fleeing San Francisco.

Between COVID and the riots, I believe many folks are asking themselves if all the costs of living in these cities are worth the cost. For a lot of them – particularly those who can do their work remotely – will answer no. They will move to lower cost and relatively safer cities. There will be many cascading effects from the diaspora, but two that I’m watching with interest.

  1. Will this cause the wave of municipal and state bankruptcies some of us have been expecting for some time? If so, does the fed step in? I’m kinda thinking that if it plays out where the fed has to go in and sort out the states – and cities – messes, the states and cities will become even more the puppets of Washington. It may also accelerate the feds reckoning, but that’s kind of like a runaway train on a flat track. We know it’s a matter of time when it will derail, but we can’t see where.
  2. What will happen when the refugees from these cities start voting in their new home areas? Will they adopt the values of their new homes? Will they try to bring the “perks” and “expectations” (along with the requisite taxes and regulations) to their new homes? Based on prior experience, I’m not too hopeful.

Standard Capacity Ban Overturned

August 19, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Last Friday, the news came down that a three-judge panel appellate hearing overturned California’s standard capacity magazine ban on strict scrutiny. I’ve read that the ban is still technically in place due to an earlier injunction, but I also saw Brownell’s loudly proclaim they’re going to flood California with as many standard capacity magazines as they can. Much as they did during that glorious few days the last time the ban was overturned. More power to the Brownell’s, Midway, and anyone else trying to flood California with real magazines.

The case is expected to go to an en banc hearing, but that’s not the assured win for California as it was a few years ago. Trump and McConnell have been ramming a bunch of new judges into the Ninth to the point that it’s been pulled back closer to the center. Which, if the en banc sustains the panel’s findings, would mean the Ninth is conflicted with several other circuits. If what happened this summer is any indication, there’s no desire from SCOTUS to pick up any Second Amendment cases and clear up any of these circuit conflicts. Which, while infuriating, may actually be in our long-term interest.