Monday, March 18, 2024

Local, local, local

 

From Ragin' Dave, writing at Liberty's Torch.  He's disgusted by the actions of our national government in allowing unchecked migration across our borders, including the very high risk of terrorist infiltration by that route.  He points out:


I never thought when I re-enlisted that I would be looking at my government as the primary evil force in this country. Sure, I didn’t trust it, but I’ve watched it go from greedy to evil in the past two decades. And the only real force I have to stave it off is local. In reality, that’s the only force any of us have. We have no control over the corruptocrats in D.C. Not really. They’re getting rich by ignoring us. I don’t see that changing any time soon. But locally? Having a network of people locally and getting prepared will be about the only real thing we can do.


True dat.  We can't do anything about Washington D.C. as individuals.  We're essentially powerless to stop their shenanigans.  We can't even be sure that voting for better candidates for Congress and the Senate will do anything, because in many parts of the country our vote can and will be manipulated, discounted, ballot-box-stuffed, and generally rendered meaningless.

What we can do is make local contacts, develop local bonds, form local support groups of like-minded people, and do our best to keep our own communities as islands of rational behavior in a sea of hysteria.  That's not an easy job, but it can be done.  I'm willing to bet that if my small town faced, say, an influx of criminal migrants, the residents would be ready, willing and able to deal with the problem before anyone in the state or federal capitals had woken up to the situation.  Our local cops would also be more than willing to ask - and receive - assistance from any and all of us, because they understand we're all in this together.  They may get orders from outsiders, but they live among us, and they know which side of their bread is buttered, and by whom.

Local, local, local.  It's very hard for one person, or one family, to withstand the madness that seems to be infecting our society and infesting our cities and towns.  It's a lot easier when people and families stand together for the values they share - and stand ready to deal with those who don't.

Peter


A reminder about a great scope accessory

 

My recent review of Primary Arms' 3-9x44 scope generated some correspondence with readers.  Among other things, it seems that too few people have heard about the use of a fishing reel attachment tool known as a "Coaster" to make an improvised scope magnification adjustment device.  I wrote about it three years ago.  Here's an excerpt from that earlier post.


 I'm sure many readers interested in the shooting sports are familiar with the "throw lever" sometimes integrated into the power ring (i.e. the adjustment ring to vary the magnification) of telescopic sights.  They look something like this example, sticking up from the power ring of a Swampfox Optics Arrowhead tactical scope.  (Click any image for a larger view.)

Regular hunting- and target-style scopes don't usually have throw levers, but they've become very popular on tactical scopes.  They allow one to adjust the power very quickly with one hand, rather than fiddle with a power ring that doesn't offer easy purchase or a visual or tactile reference when the scope is being held to one's eye.  There are third-party, aftermarket throw levers available, but they can be expensive, and they only fit a limited range of sizes.

I recently came across a fishing accessory, originally designed to attach reels to rods.  It's called a "Coaster" ... They're made by Breakaway Tackle in England, and look like this.

The loop is placed around the fishing rod, over the mounting lugs of the reel:  then the arms are pulled tight through the vice block before the ring is screwed down on the block, its threads engaging the notches on the arms to tighten them further.  It's a bit like a double-ended cable tie.

Some bright spark figured out that the same tool could be used as a throw lever on rifle telescopic sights that lacked such a feature.  Intrigued, I tried it, and found it works like a charm.  Here's how the vendor illustrates it.

I modified that slightly, in that I cut off the arms a notch or so above the ring using cutting pliers, as low as I could manage, as illustrated above.  I then unscrewed the ring and took it off, cut the arms a notch or two shorter while holding the loop and vice block in place, and then reattached the ring and screwed it down moderately tightly (don't over-tighten it, as that will strip the threads).  That put the ends of the arms just beneath the surface of the ring, rather than above it, so they no longer scratched my fingers as I felt for the ring.  I found that a lot more comfortable, and it looked better, too.


There's more at the link, and in a follow-up post where a reader described having a problem fitting the "Coaster" to a very low-mounted scope.

Here's a video demonstrating how to install the Coaster on a scope.




This is a super-useful accessory to put on any scope with a variable power or focus ring.  The Coaster is also much lower cost than some of the made-for-purpose throw rings you'll find if you shop around (it's anywhere from a half to a tenth of their price), and it'll fit just about any scope, unlike some of the others that are restricted to scopes of a particular brand or size.  I've put them on my most-used scopes, and I'm in the process of installing them on the rest as well, for a uniform fit across all my long guns.  You'll find them on Amazon.

Highly recommended.

Peter


Memes that made me laugh 201

 

Gathered from around the Internet over the past week.  Click any image for a larger view.











Sunday, March 17, 2024

Sunday morning music

 

I'm sure many of my readers have heard the music of Lindsey Stirling.  She's an iconic, independent voice in modern entertainment, known for her strong moral code and her emphasis on clean living - a refreshing change in a field filled with the opposite.  Her emphasis on violin rather than electronic instruments is very satisfying - clearly to a lot of people, judging by her fan base.

I was intrigued by this pre-released track from her latest album, "Duality", which will ship in June 2024.  It's titled "Eye of the Untold Her", and purports to encapsulate her life in music into a single song.  According to one YouTube commenter, its elements include:


(0:01) Voiceover and costume from her rejection at AGT [America's Got Talent]
(0:32) Lindsey has said she went back to the dressing room and cried, and said she'd never go on stage again
(0:39) Artemis
(0:53) Crystallize, which went viral and was a career-changer
(0:59) Dancing With the Stars, her Week 10 costume
(1:07) The Upside
(1:41) Her first self-titled album cover
(1:47) Shatter Me, a song and video about her personal struggles
(2:06) The tomb stone is for her father Stephen, and best friend Gavi
(2:11) Roundtable Rival
(2:13) Lindsey has taken up aerial hoop, because yes she CAN go flying through the air while playing the violin
(2:17) The Arena
(2:30) Can't fill a theater? Watch her. This is the costume she wore to play at Lollapalooza in Paris 2023.
(3:23) Babe, wake up, new Lindsey Stirling album cover just dropped.




Compare and contrast that track to her first music video back in 2011, "Spontaneous Me".  It's still one of my favorites.




From her 2010 elimination in the quarterfinals of Season 5 of America's Got Talent, and her defiant decision to pursue her dream anyway, she's come a long way and achieved great success.  My hat's off to her for her determination and courage in pushing on and overcoming all obstacles, particularly those put in her path by others in the entertainment industry.  She's surely showed them!

Peter


Saturday, March 16, 2024

Saturday Snippet: the lighter side of bush warfare

 

As regular readers will know, I served for some years in the South African military, both full-time and reserve.  As part of that, I occasionally found myself in Rhodesia (today Zimbabwe), a nation that was fighting its own war against terrorism, a rather hotter war than ours most of the time.  It was an education (to put it mildly!) to see Rhodesian elite forces in action.  They were terrifyingly good.  Rhodesia lost its war in the end, overwhelmed by demographic factors and the vagaries of geopolitics, but the lessons learned there have continued to stand the Western world in good stead.  Some of its forces, particularly the Special Air Service, the Selous Scouts, and the Fireforce teams, remain world-famous, even legendary.

Jake Harper-Ronald was a Rhodesian who went to Britain to serve in the Parachute Regiment.  Returning to Rhodesia in the 1970's, he signed up for the Special Air Service and went on to serve in the Selous Scouts and with the Special Branch of the British South Africa Police.  Shortly before his death, he gave a detailed account of his life to a friend, which was later published as "Sunday Bloody Sunday: A Soldier's War in Northern Ireland, Rhodesia, Mozambique and Iraq".



The blurb reads:


Gold is forged in fire. Men in the furnace of adversity…

Step into the extraordinary life of Jake Harper-Ronald, a man whose childhood dream of becoming a soldier led him on an unparalleled journey. In 1966, he fulfilled his ambition as a conscript in the Royal Rhodesia Regiment, only to embark on a series of adventures that most soldiers can only imagine.

From early days in the elite Parachute Regiment in the UK to his pivotal role as the official photographer during the infamous 'Bloody Sunday' in Northern Ireland, Jake's path was one of courage and resilience. He left an indelible mark on history, capturing iconic moments through his lens that still resonate today.

Returning to Rhodesia in 1974, Jake's journey continued with the ultra-tough SAS and the Selous Scouts. His daring cross-border raids and contributions as a professional soldier showcased his unwavering commitment. Despite facing the trials of combat, he persevered, even transitioning to a top-secret Special Branch callsign and later joining Zimbabwe's Central Intelligence Organisation.

Jake's remarkable story unfolded further as he operated as an intelligence agent for global powers such as South Africa, Britain, and the US. His path was not without challenges; accusations of treason led to his time in solitary confinement at Goromonzi Detention Centre.

Undeterred, he emerged from adversity, and in 1989, MI6 enlisted his expertise to train and lead militias combating Renamo in Mozambique. His efforts were so impactful that his Special Forces unit was integrated into Mozambique's National Army.

Witnessing the harrowing realities of Mozambique, Jake's journey came full circle as he returned to Zimbabwe and ventured into the private security sector and then on to private military contracting in Iraq. Despite his health declining, his resolve remained unshaken until his passing in 2007 at the age of 59.

Immerse yourself in an incredible narrative of bravery, sacrifice, and tenacity as 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' chronicles the awe-inspiring life of Jake Harper-Ronald. This is more than a biography; it's a testament to the indomitable spirit of a true soldier and a captivating journey that will leave you inspired and in awe.


Harper-Ronald's story is so out of the ordinary that I wondered whether it could be real, or was a fictional mish-mash of real soldiers' stories.  There are Web sites where one can check to see whether an individual was, indeed, a member of the Rhodesian Special Air Service and/or the Selous Scouts, and he was verified by both of them.  I spent enough time in Rhodesia, and researching various things thereafter, that I could verify a lot of what he said about external operations:  therefore, I accept that his life story, sensational though it might be, is essentially true.

It's a long book, with an immense amount of detail.  However, there are nuggets of humor among the many tales he tells, some of which had me laughing out loud (and remembering a few war stories of my own).  I thought I'd collect some of them here this morning for your entertainment.  Here goes!


(Serving with the Parachute Regiment in Britain)

A certain corporal and I, sharing guard duty, had taken a fascination to the aerial sorties of the model aircraft club, that used a strip adjacent to the barracks to land their radio-controlled planes.

On Sundays, when they got together, we were entertained to impressive displays of air rallies that filled the sky, with expensive model aircraft whining overhead.

We always kept on hand four pellet guns back in the barracks, which we would use (to relieve the boredom) by engaging in small wars – much as I had done as a teenager in Rhodesia. The guns were relegated to the guardroom after someone inadvertently shot another Para through the cheek.

Bored to tears one Sunday, we decided to take pot shots at the aircraft as they flew above the depot, thinking that we could never do any damage to such fast-flying machines. Before long, four of us were banging away at a solitary aircraft as it gracefully dipped to turn over the entrance. We had created an effective four-barrelled anti-aircraft battery!

As the plane levelled after a turn, it gave a bit of a jig, pitched right and then left and headed away from the strip towards Basingstoke canal. We all gulped as we realised we had managed to sever one of its control cables with a pellet. We watched, panic-stricken, as the plane continued on its course and disappeared from sight.

On the strip a man ran after it, turning knobs and twiddling with joysticks. From where we stood we heard him swearing and cursing at his misfortune.

The airguns were hidden away immediately and we resumed our duties. As every minute passed we waited for the cops to arrive, wondering all the time if we’d been seen. Later that night, while sitting in the guardroom, the military police phoned to ask if we knew anything about the expensive missing aircraft. I took the call and naturally denied everything, although I thought I sensed a bit of disbelief in the policeman’s tone.

* * * * *

(During a parachute assault on a terrorist base in Mozambique)

Below me I could see ant-like figures running all over the show, some of them stopping to look up at us. Only they weren’t just looking, they were shooting. Although I was below 400 feet (122 metres) I could not make out any detail but I was acutely aware of streams of grotesque green ‘hornets’ reaching up, highlighted against the dark earth backdrop, searching for me. The fire continued until the ground came into focus and rushed up to meet me.

On landing I jettisoned my harness and brought my rifle to bear from where it was strapped down my side. I couldn’t have been too far away from the enemy and I expected a burst of fire to come my way any second.

Behind me, I glanced over my shoulder and noticed Vernon Conchie executing a perfect parachute landing about 20 metres to my right. Flaring just before he hit terra firma, he touched down on both feet – running in mid-air – anticipating the ground before him. His canopy folded as he turned and gathered up the lower rigging. Milliseconds passed and in one swift move he unbuckled both harnesses from his shoulders, his parachute billowing behind him with its new-found slack.

Before he even grabbed his rifle Vernon unhitched his trousers, dropped them to his ankles and squatted to take a dump. In seconds, having released his bowels, he ripped off his pockets, then his lapels and wiped his arse. In a follow-through motion he hitched his trousers and fastened them, then swiftly gathered his rifle and was potting off a few shots at some distant terrs before you could say presto. The way it unfolded I could see that he had rehearsed the manoeuvre during the descent. It was the most perfect defecation under fire that I have ever seen. In fact, I don’t imagine there have been too many others like it.

... That afternoon I asked Conchie about his defecation under fire. His simple answer summed up all our feelings during that parachute descent. ‘I just **** myself’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to get zapped before I landed.’

* * * * *

Bored to wits’ end one day and after a few friendly challenges in the bar, the ‘blues’ and the ‘browns’ decided to square off and have a rocket-building competition. There would be three teams and the winning team would be the recipient of a crate of beer bought by the losers. The competition rules were to design, construct and fly a rocket which would be judged by the policemen. We had a day to come up with our designs and we were to convene on the apron at 15:00 the next afternoon to show off our efforts. Points would be awarded initially for getting our contraptions off the ground and then for which rocket flew the furthest. Additional points were given for any unique design features.

... Major Kriel’s team had built a three-stage ignition rocket utilising Icarus flares taped together. It was an impressive sight, only a little unwieldy if anything ... With the major holding the rocket aloft, his head cowering in anticipation of launch, Dave Scales snuck up behind him and pushed the firing device. Instantly both men were hidden in a huge cloud of white smoke as the ungainly device lifted off. Struggling into the air, it wobbled on its axis as stage one found thrust.

At about 60 feet, when the fuel from the first compartment was spent, it had been intended that stage two would ignite, carrying the rocket to a higher altitude, where the ignition of stage three would kick in and carry it higher. Instead, like the Apollo disaster, it snaked left and right and then exploded in mid-air with a deafening crump. Fortunately, the designers had taken all the magnesium out of the flares or otherwise we might have been showered by its burning-hot contents.

Unfortunately, as planned, the other two stages did ignite; the tape that harnessed them together not having the integrity to hold true and they shot off horizontally all over the place. Stage two was a real peach and rocketed in the direction of the two Alouettes parked on the apron. As it raced toward them, trailing white smoke, we cringed at the thought of a direct hit and the resultant damage. The ‘blues’ were screaming their lungs out although I don’t know what good it might have done. Luckily it passed over the nearest chopper and burnt out in the long grass beyond. When we turned around we saw stage three rounding a nearby hangar and heading straight for us. We all dived for cover and it passed over us with feet to spare until it skidded harmlessly to a halt in the dirt. Meanwhile, the body of stage one had spun into the bush on the side of the apron which erupted into a raging bush fire. With the tenacity of bulldogs on a bone we set to beating the flames into submission with branches and whatever else we could find.

I couldn’t help thinking, while he was at the forefront of the battle against the flames, that Major Kriel would have had a hard time explaining the loss of two valuable helicopters. We eventually controlled the inferno after 15 minutes of madness, but with only metres of open ground to spare before it did any real damage.

* * * * *

Major Kriel had an inventive imagination and would have been well suited to the design department of an armaments manufacturing company. On a brief deployment to Grand Reef, he came up with an ingenious plan for a six-barrelled 60 mm mortar which could be buried in the earth after attacking a terrorist camp and then detonated remotely, or even by a delayed fuse, some time after the raiders had left. The idea was to cause alarm and mayhem when those terrorists who had escaped unharmed, came out from hiding to assess the damage of a raid.

The contraption he designed had six mortar tubes facing in slightly different directions, much like the smoke grenade dispensers on a tank. On initiation, the bombs would fire from detonators at the base of each tube, landing all over the terrorist camp. On test day, the major and I went around the base and told everyone that we were trying out a new weapon, so they wouldn’t be alarmed when they heard the bangs. The Fire Force troops were warned to remain near the billet side of the airstrip and not to venture onto the runway.

After walking to the end of the airstrip we dug a small hole and buried the tubes with earth, covering them until only the tops of the barrels were sticking out. The major then boosted each one with additional gunpowder from ammunition and secondaries from 60mm bombs, before putting in the bombs. We attached an electrical wire to the cluster of individual detonator wires and then moved off a safe distance so testing could commence. Some 50 metres off Major Kriel turned, quite satisfied with the distance between us and the mortar. I had my doubts and suggested we move a bit further and possibly take shelter in one of the bunkers on the edge of the strip. He heeded my reservation reluctantly and moved away until we settled into a bunker and peered out of a large aperture.

To add ceremony to the occasion, the major initiated a small countdown before attaching the wires to a car battery we had with us. The ruckus that followed was not the recognisable sound of simultaneous mortar fire, but an enormous explosion that sent dirt and debris flying for hundreds of metres. Even within the safe environs of the bunker I was suddenly stung by flying shrapnel, which zinged through the aperture and buried itself in my upper body. The wounds were superficial, but they were enough to remind me of how lucky we were to have retreated this far. Had the major fired the device from where he originally intended, I have no doubt we would have been mincemeat.

It took a few seconds for both of us to recover from the shock of the explosion. Staring out of the bunker I watched the dust settle and shook my head. A long whistle sounded from the major’s lips as he too just stared out vacantly. More seconds passed before we ventured toward the remnants of the multi-barrelled mortar where we found a crater in which you could have hidden a donkey. In the distance, clods of earth could be heard raining down on the corrugated iron roofs of the billets. Glancing in that direction we could see the air force personnel with their hands on their heads, panic-stricken. Before long they were running to their aircraft to inspect what damage had been caused.

Needless to say, Major Kriel was not popular for some time afterwards. The experiment had been a flop and any intimations of further attempts were shot down in flames.


There are many more incidents in Harper-Ronald's account of almost four decades in one uniform or another.  He lived a very adventurous life.

Peter


Friday, March 15, 2024

A tale of two dollar store chains

 

It's interesting to note two seemingly conflicting news reports:

So one chain expands, while another contracts.  Both serve the same target market.  What's going on?

I think it boils down to the old saw in real estate:  location, location, location.  As far as I can tell, Dollar General has tended to put its stores into "nicer" areas, with less local crime and safer travel.  That lower crime rate has also helped minimize shrinkage in the stores.  Family Dollar and Dollar Tree, on the other hand, appear to have focused on lower-cost real estate, saving them money on putting in more stores, but exposing them to the risk of greater losses through increased local crime rates and customers who find it more difficult (i.e. less safe) to get to them.  As the second report linked above put it:


Dollar Tree said shrink remains "elevated" and would lower the company's profitability going forward. On the company's earnings call Wednesday, company executives said shrink had been accelerating.


I'm willing to bet that the stores Family Dollar and Dollar Tree plan to close will include those with the highest shrinkage rates.

Both chains complain that customers are hard-pressed to cope with rising prices:  indeed, the "dollar store" moniker has recently become the "$1.25 store" or "$1.50 store", and at present rates of inflation, that's likely to continue to rise.  Chains that can accommodate such cash-strapped consumers are likely to do better than those that can't.  I notice Walmart is putting more emphasis on lower-cost food and clothing in local stores, and I suspect it's taking business away from the dollar stores by doing so.

Companies that are quick on their feet in responding to our present problematic market will do better.  Those that move more slowly, or make the wrong guesses as to the future of retail . . . not so much.

Peter


A tragic way to die

 

I was saddened to read about the cause of an aircraft crash in Switzerland last month.


In a preliminary report published on 12 March, the Swiss Transportation Safety Investigation Board (STSB) said the aircraft, belonging to Skydive Grenchen, was carrying 11 jumpers and one pilot on the afternoon of 18 February. While all jumpers, one of whom was slightly injured in the incident, exited the aircraft, the pilot died in the crash.

“When parachutists were being dropped off, the reserve parachute belonging to a parachutist who was still on the aircraft unintentionally opened,” the STSB says. “The parachutist subsequently collided with the elevator tailplane, causing it to be completely torn off the aircraft and the plane crashed.”

“The pilot was not wearing a rescue parachute,” it adds.


There's more at the link.

It sounds as if the inadvertently opened reserve parachute pulled one of the jumpers out of the plane, from where he collided with the tailplane.  Nobody could have foreseen this sort of incident, or its outcome.  I'm still trying to wrap my brain around how the impact of a human body could break off an elevator tailplane on one side of the aircraft.  One wouldn't think such an impact would be sufficient.  It would injure the person, of course, perhaps fatally, and damage the leading edge of the tailplane, but not knock it completely off the aircraft.  I'm sure the manufacturers will be investigating that as a matter of urgency.

The death of the pilot was a tragedy, of course.  The skydiving club had apparently bought the aircraft more than a decade ago, and he'd flown it for the club for years.  It just goes to show:  "in the midst of life we are in death", as the classic funeral service puts it.  We never know when or where or how we may come to our end.  That's a sobering thought . . . and it should be.

Peter


A musical pun I couldn't resist

 

From Stephan Pastis yesterday.  Click the image to be taken to a larger view at the "Pearls Before Swine" Web page.



That was a groaner - but very funny, too!  To honor the cartoonist and his inspiration, here's the original piece as played at the "Concert for George", held to honor the composer after his death.




Warm memories to go with the smile.

Peter


Thursday, March 14, 2024

Inflation: A better measure, but still too low

 

I've been saying for years (as have many informed commenters) that the "official" rate of inflation has about as much relation to the facts as I do to Mata Hari.  It's massaged, manipulated and mangled until it bears little or no resemblance to the actual costs all of us are paying "on the street".  A year and a half ago, I said that the effective rate of inflation for our family (based on actual sales receipts, what we were paying for goods and services) was now over 30%.  Late last year, Karl Denninger said much the same thing about what he was experiencing.

Tipp Insights has just prepared its own measure of inflation, based on the official figures, but removing much of the manipulation from them.  It's still not high enough, IMHO, but it's more reliable than the government numbers.


The government's Consumer Price Index (CPI), released on Tuesday, showed a 3.2% year-over-year price increase from February 2023 to February 2024.

. . .

We developed the TIPP CPI, a metric that uses February 2021, the month after President Biden's inauguration, as its base to measure the rate of change. All TIPP CPI measures are anchored to the base month of February 2021, making it exclusive to the economy under President Biden's watch.

What is the motivation behind the TIPP CPI?

The BLS CPI rate doesn't accurately capture Americans’ inflation struggles. The official BLS CPI year-over-year increases will compare prices to already inflated bases in the coming months, and these statistics could mask the full impact. Further, the media and some economists frequently use the low CPI rate to present a rosy economic outlook supporting Biden’s policies.

In contrast, the TIPP CPI rate offers a clearer understanding of Americans’ economic challenges under President Biden. We use the relevant data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) to calculate the TIPP CPI, but we adjust the period to Biden's tenure. When discussing the TIPP CPI and the BLS CPI, we convert the index numbers into percentage changes to better understand and compare them. CPIs are like index numbers that show how prices affect people's lives, similar to how the Dow Jones Industrial Average reflects the stock market.

Bidenflation, measured by the TIPP CPI using the same underlying data, increased to 18.0% in February. It was 17.3% in January, 16.6% in December, and 16.7% in November.


There's more at the link, including useful charts to make it easier to understand the situation.  Recommended reading.

So, there you have it:

  • The "official" rate of inflation is 3.2%;
  • Shadowstats estimates it as plus-or-minus 12%, based on 1980's statistical norms;
  • The Chapwood Index measures city-by-city rather than nationally, but is pretty close to Shadowstats;
  • TIPP CPI measures it as 18.0% as of last month;
  • Karl Denninger and myself are experiencing it, based on our own specific purchases, at 30%+ every year.
Decide for yourself who you want to believe - but check your own shopping lists and receipts first, to see what the reality is according to your wallet and bank account.  The numbers might surprise you.

(Oh - and note that the non-official figures range from 4x to about 10x higher than the official rate of inflation.  If every one of them is that much higher than the bureaucratic figure, I think the reality is clear.)

Peter


It's all in the follow-through...

 

A murder in Chicago has a somewhat unusual sequel.


Officials say a murder victim managed to shoot his killer before dying, and, after the murderer fled, a passerby took the victim’s gun, hunted down the killer, and shot some more.

. . .

Quijuan Lewis, a 20-year-old on parole for less than two months for a gun conviction, got out of a car and crouched behind a vehicle as the victim, 36-year-old Delegance Crawl, walked down the street, prosecutors said in a detention petition.

Crawl was walking and looking at his phone when Lewis jumped out from behind the vehicle and attacked him, the petition said. Lewis allegedly struck Crawl in the head with a gun multiple times as they fought on the street. Crawl eventually pulled out his own gun.

Ultimately, prosecutors say, Lewis shot Crawl in the back of the head. And Crawl shot Lewis in the leg. As Crawl lay gravely wounded, Lewis ran to a nearby gas station for help and stashed his gun in a potato chip display, according to police and prosecutors.

Back at the shooting scene, a passerby who has not been identified picked up Crawl’s gun from beside his motionless body and marched over to the gas station. They used Crawl’s gun to shoot Lewis “multiple” times in the buttocks and then ran away, officials said in court filings.


There's more at the link.

I can't figure out precisely what was the point in shooting the perpetrator multiple times in the ass, but I'm sure there's at least some sort of criminal logic in it . . . somewhere.  Just don't ask me where.

What I can't figure out is what the passerby's interest might have been.  Was he trying to avenge his friend's murder?  If so, he wasn't very successful.  In his shoes (if he wore any) I'd have picked a better target.  Was he just a local who's fed up with all the street crime?  If so, he merely added to it rather than solved the problem.  Was there some other reason?  If so, your guess is as good as mine.  (If the second shooter wanted to discourage criminals like Lewis, this will at least have the effect of making the latter a laughing-stock in whatever jail or prison he inhabits.  It's not every gangbanger who stashes his gun in a potato chip display, only to render himself defenseless against having his ass turned into a colander!  That sort of dumbassery demands real [lack of] talent.)

I'm afraid this is the dominant culture in large patches of the urban environment in America's large cities these days.  All I can say (as I've said often before) is, get out of them.  Now.  Because things are only going to get worse there - not better.

Peter


How Russia is fighting the Ukraine war

 

A very interesting Russian document has been made available in English translation by Lethal Minds Journal.  It's introduced as follows (translated from Russian):


I Live, I Fight, I Win : Rules of Life In War

Razumov A.N., Kryukov G.A., Kuznetsov A.N.

I live, I fight, I win! Rules of Life in War is a collection of recommendations based on the generalized experience of combatants in Afghanistan, the North Caucasus and Ukraine. The presentation is distinguished by a deep knowledge of the problem, brevity, accessibility for understanding, clarity of presentation.

The collection is intended for servicemen of the RF Armed Forces participating in a special military operation in Ukraine, conscripts, cadets of military educational institutions, employees of various law enforcement agencies.


I'm not going to provide excerpts here, because it's a long document with lots of detail.  However, I recommend all my current and former military readers to click over to Lethal Minds Journal and read it for themselves.  It's interesting to compare its combat doctrine to those we were taught from a Western mindset;  and it provides valuable insight into how Russian forces are operating today.  In a post-Ukraine War world, we might be seeing such tactics closer to home.  Who knows?

Peter