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Wildcats are customized calibers, usually from existing cases with the dimensions changed.

I think the greatest thing about wildcats is the names.

.577 Tyrannosaur
.600 OverKill

But what about some others? The 12 Gauge Rifle From Hell http://www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=178655 reaches up to 18,000 foot pounds. I suggested it should be called ".729 Redneck."

So, one of the fora I'm on started a thread.


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HANDGUN:


The .2 Pac.  Used for drive by shooting of rap artists.

9mm Doubletap.  A perfectly standard 9mm.  We just wanted to remind you of that.

.357 Excedrin Headache.  Cure yours by causing theirs.

10mm JBT. If they're going to do it, they need to do it right.

10mm Vasectomy.  Because we all know someone who needs one.

.45 MRI.  They need this, too.

.451 Fahrenheit.  A .308 case necked to .45 and shot from a 6" barrel. The muzzle blast will take care of the paperwork.

.50 Cent.  When you want to make sure you get rid of the rapper with one shot.

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ON TO THE RIFLES!

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.23 Skidoo.  A necked down .30-06.  For grandpa, who can't shut up about how much better things were 80 years ago.

.300 Spartan. For sniping Persians in a completely epic fashion.

.458 Darwin.  For hunting endangered species the right way.

.499 Feinstein.  a .50 BMG shortened 2mm to get around California's ban.

.6000000 Holocaust.  Oh, we're going to hell for that one.

.666 Antichrist.  For time traveling back to hunt dinosaur.

.729 Redneck.  a 3.75" 12 gauge slug, brass cased, for rifled bores.  http://www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=178655

Details

http://io9.com/5840415/why-a-little-self+delusion-can-be-a-very-good-thing A bit of excerpt:

In general, the more aware of reality you are, the more likely you are to survive. But sometimes lying to yourself has its advantages. Possessing an over-inflated belief in yourself can help you perform better than accurately knowing your abilities.

That said, they suggest that overconfidence works particularly well in unfamiliar situations, where it's difficult to even make an accurate assessment of one's position. Faced with an unknown enemy or technology, the best course may be to simply assume that you can win until proven wrong. In that scenario, it might make some sense why overconfidence is an desirable trait from an evolutionary perspective, particularly since so much of human history seems dominated by exploring unfamiliar and potentially dangerous situations. Very well.

So then we come to this comment: jinchoung

14 Sep 2011 6:18 PM "why did you say you could fly the plane?!"

"i just assumed i could."

it's one thing to say that there are situations where delusions of grandeur can help STATISTICALLY SPEAKING - OVER TIME - FOR A BIOLOGICAL SPECIES...

but in everyday, real life existence for a single human being, while confidence can have a psycho/sociological effect that can manipulate the weak of mind - VERY * SERIOUS * REAL WORLD * NEGATIVES are the primary consequences of such delusion.

it is because of this phenomenon that people all over our country have an opinion on global warming.

THINK ABOUT THAT.

local yokel yahoos who don't know their asshole from a hole in the ground HAVE AN OPINION ON CLIMATE CHANGE - A VERY TECHNICAL SUBJECT MATTER which this group of opiners can ONLY get SECOND HAND from scientists.

further, these imbeciles have such a hopped up sense of self that they are confident:

- TO THE POINT THAT THEY'RE ****ARGUING**** with the scientist from whence this information comes!

Which scientist?

- to the point where JENNY MOTHERFUCKING MCCARTNEY thinks she has something to contribute to the field of childhood vaccinations.

Wait, wasn't this about climate change?

- where a bunch of backwoods fucktards call themselves a teabagging express are convinced that a nation... A NATION... should be run like their own households - with NO HINT of irony or grasp of the fallacies of such a notion.

Wait, wasn't this about immunizations?

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as for novel, unique situations in which we need to go in blind... how many such situations exist in this day and age?

perhaps cocksure boldness works better than timidity when completely ignorant but what works better than that is simply not to be ignorant.

fucking google it.

um...ignorance? I can google it?

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i'm actually going to disagree with the gist of this article

Wait, are you an expert in this field? or getting your information from an expert? Or are you, you know, arguing with experts? Which would be ironic.

and say that this is on par with "studies" that say chocolate or red wine is healthful... in a very particular way of looking, yes, that can be so... but it also must ignore huge swathes of other complicating factors that frustrate such easy generalizations.

DELUSION IS BAD. FALSEHOODS ARE BAD.

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH! FREEDOM IS SLAVERY! TRUTH IS BEAUTY!

TRUTH IS GOOD. KNOWING REALITY IS GOOD. period.
it is with UTTER, GRAVE, MORTAL PERIL that we do not understand and grasp our ineptitude.

Oh, I'm pretty sure I grasp it when I see it.

we JACK UP OUR WORLD because we overestimate our own prowess and come off as utter DOUCHEBAGS - to ourselves, our friends and family and to the societies in which we belong.

Well, maybe you do...

as clint eastwood said, "A MAN'S GOTTA KNOW HIS LIMITATION".

that mouthbreathing, overweight chess nerd is not going to get the cheerleader... no matter how bold.

you can find the way if you don't even know where you currently are.

Deep, man. You should send that to Reader's Digest.

There's more. Much more. I must applaud this gentleman on a fantastic first-person demonstration of self-delusion. He couldn't do better if he were actually self-deluded.

Details

A friend of mine adopted her half-brother's kids from Israel. The INS idiots told her she'd have to have notarized paperwork from a US embassy--she's American, lives near DC. Duh.  Only if you are overseas do you need an embassy, for obvious reasons.  It took a Senator to straighten that out.

Then IRS wouldn't accept the paperwork to prove they were dependents. Yup, legally hers, couldn't be deported, but not recognized as either residents, citizens or dependents.

In our case, (1970s), the lawyer advised us to come in on a temp visa and apply for permanent. That was illegal at the time, since our intent was to be permanent. We had a house, jobs, visa expired, illegal (well, unvisaed) for three years until we could get a hearing, where we were able to convince the case worker our intent had not been criminal, and make our case.

We should have come on a boat from Cuba or Vietnam. Easy to get citizenship that way.

Oh, yes--old naturalization documents cannot be copied. USAF kept writing down my naturalization number and losing it. Took three years to get my security clearance, and meantime I was in the presence of stuff no one uncleared was even supposed to know existed.

Meanwhile I know an illegal alien from Canada--yes, there are illegal Canuckistani hosers invading--whose visa expired and has never fixed it.  He finally gave up on the system.

I know another Russian who came by way of the UK, got a work visa, had his company go bankrupt and disappear right after his transfer, leaving him here without income and no legal way to work to even get a ticket home, since the visa specified the job.  He eked by selling his books and clothes, until his mother (an American permanent resident) and a legal charity set up to help former Soviet/Russian Jews were able to wangle a student visa, with the requirement that he then had to find financing and schooling.

Did you know a large number of illegal Asians come in by ship to both the West Coast and NYC, and a number of them get tourist visas to Canada, then wetback across the longest undefended border on Earth?

Part of the problem is the rules change constantly, and interpretations vary by case worker, and every problem takes money and lawyers to fix.  I've never heard of anyone not managing without months or years of hassle for either residency or citizenship.

Details

"Poverty."

Start here, with John Scalzi's "Being Poor." http://whatever.scalzi.com/2005/09/03/being-poor/ We'll come back to that. 

Now see this:  http://www.heritage.org/research/reports/2011/07/what-is-poverty

Now see THIS.  http://thinkprogress.org/economy/2011/09/13/318259/with-record-number-of-americans-falling-into-poverty-rand-paul-says-the-poor-are-getting-rich/

I'm no fan of Rand Paul, and there are some valid soundbites in both sides, but the basic fact is that Americans in the bottom 10 percentile are incredibly well off by global standards, as a general rule.  And I'm not even going to dignify the lefticle wank of "income gap" with a response, except to note it's pretty much Godwin's Law for economics. If you bring it up, you've admitted you have no argument.

A Facebook friend (meaning someone I don't actually know) posted the "thinkprogress" link.

This is part of the exchange:

Michael Z. Williamson There are no poor people in America. If you believe there are, let me take you to Bangladesh.

There are LESS WELL OFF people in America.

Michael Z. Williamson As an immigrant, I get REALLY ticked off at Americans whining about "poverty" that involves cell phones, microwaves, AC and cars.

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  • Wendi Dunlap I get really ticked off at people playing the poverty dicksizing game.
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Now, I don't make a big deal of helping people, because I believe one should be helping, not bragging.  However, near as I can tell, these people are hand-wringing all over the place, but not actually doing anything. I mean, I point out that someone with a roof, a car, food and a Wii is not in the same league as someone without food, potable water and shelter and get accused of "Dicksizing"?  Really?  So, I shouldn't care about those people?  I'm really not clear on what that comment meant.  It was certainly negative, though.

So, that seems to be a challenge.  Here goes:

I remember growing up middle class in the UK.  My father had a motorcycle, and eventually a car, while he alternated electrical work and school.  My mother waited tables evenings. We had a "flat" with no heat, and a transistor radio.  Lunch for me was usually a boiled egg or a slice of bread with jam.  In 1969 we got a black and white TV so we could watch the moon landing.  Since my father was an electrical engineer, he re-programmed the set and we got FOUR channels, though BBC1 and -2 usually showed the same thing.

 Eventually we moved to a real house (well, a duplex), with plumbing.  We were lucky.  The row houses behind us had bathrooms tacked onto the back, with pipes running up to deliver water, and IIRC the sewage dumped down into a semi-open system.  They were 100 years old and predated plumbing.  Every day, my mother would walk me the half mile to school, and pick me up afterward.  The bathroom was outside.  After three years, they built a brand new bathroom, still outdoors.  However, we no longer had to urinate in a gutter or crap in a hole.  When school wasn't in session, she'd take my hand, and with my sister in a pram, we'd walk most of a mile to the town market.  Now, at that time in Britain, you had to argue with the grocer, who wanted to get rid of the oldest food first for the same price as the fresh stuff.  Then she'd load it in a small cart and walk home, pram in front, pulling that behind, or having me push one, while we crossed  a couple of four lane roads to walk home.

We moved to Canada, and the first day, I was loaded into a Bonneville ("Parisienne") where my feet didn't even reach off the seat, and there was a radio in the car.  THERE WAS A RADIO IN THE CAR!  I was driven to an A&P, where there was 100 feet of fresh produce.  It was really odd, because there was no glass and no grocers. You could take whatever you wanted and put it in a bag, then they'd load it all into the car for you.  You could just leave what didn't look fresh, and they'd do something with it.  I'm sure they didn't waste it, though.

Then we moved to America, where it was explained to me that we should have two cars, since we had two adults in the house.  A friend's parents were unable to properly discipline their son, because if they sent him to his room, he just watched TV there instead.

My parents divorced when I was 15, and my mother, sister and I were on food stamps and some other aid while she sold real estate and tried to find something more lucrative.  My paper route money went toward food.

After I enlisted in the Air Force, a friend of mine from high school made the local papers while homeless, living on the street. My mother took him in, gave him use of a phone, shower, and help with applications, fed him, and the state agreed to a stipend from his welfare benefits.  A month later he left for the street again, because, "I don't want people playing communist with my money."  That's right, the money he received free from the taxpayers, if allotted to the people housing and supporting him, was "communism."  Still, we tried.

I can't count the number of times I've offered work to some "Will work for food" guy, only to be told, "My brother/friend/girl is coming with a car in a couple of minutes to take me somewhere."  Presumably not to work.

During the downsizing of 1990, I left the USAF on a week's notice, and had to acquire lodging, furniture (a bed), pots and pans, a cat, the basic necessities.  I wound up working in a factory at $5/hr, then a pizza shop at $5.35/hr. (Minimum wage was $4.75, and the drivers got tips. Then minimum wage went to $5.35 and the drivers kept getting tips, and I did not get a raise. Meantime, the price of pizza rose enough to account for the increase in outlay, plus a few percent.  But that's a rant on another subject.)  Officially, damaged food was to be trashed, to discourage employees from "Stealing" damaged food.  The expired food (which the restaurant wanted to keep serving, health code be damned), went into the oven and then into me, because that was the only food I had when my rent was $400 a month.  Yes, I stole food to stay alive.

College students are usually poor, and my choices in that area were pizza at $5.35 an hour, crappy factory work at $6, and none of it around a school schedule.  In addition to running my own part time business at SF conventions, I was a stripper. It wasn't all bad, but it's no better for men than women, and the cops just assume you're selling sex.  They're not your friend.  And no, really, it isn't fun to have a roomful of drunken frat chicks try to paw you, because if they make contact with certain parts of the anatomy after you've been paid, IT LEGALLY IS PROSTITUTION as far as the government is concerned.

After our daughter was born, my wife was unemployed because the boss hired his daughter in law to be "Trained" by Gail…and then take the position.  I took a job hauling trash during the week.  When you've handled a dozen 70 lb trashcans full of diapers, cat litter, medical waste, rotten food, come back and we'll talk, about how that's your first 10 minutes and you're not working fast enough, and when it gets warm in a few hours (80 degrees instead of 45), it's really going to stink. (I actually impressed them. I wanted to get it done fast every day.)

I remember a friend whose husband took off with something that may have been younger but couldn't have been better looking, leaving her with a baby daughter.  In her case, she was a dropout, and wanted to work but couldn't get hired.  She wanted to go to school.  However, the state would only provide day care while one worked at menial jobs, not at anything productive, and certainly not while one was going to school, because going to school isn't working…right?  Several of us pitched in to help until she could make arrangements to not starve with no car, no roof, no job and no skills.  Yes, she's doing well now.  She was determined.

I remember watching the SWAT team and fourteen cars show up, tromp through my yard, and arrest the "photographer" next to me who worked in his garage, for selling crack.  Then his girlfriend held office hours, during which young men who should be at work or school would walk out the open front door zipping their pants.  Then they burgled our house and took most of the few possessions we had.

A current friend I've mentioned on my blog, suffering a permanent pain level of 4-5, with frequent spikes off the chart to incoherent convulsions, whom the VA and Social Security insist isn't really sick, because no one who scores that low on the tests could actually walk, so he must be faking.  After enough public humiliation and DAV help, with me going into the hospital every few days with him (several hundred hours in the last year, including driving time, and no, he can't afford to cover my gas) to argue with them, finally has a princely $450 a month to pay rent and food.  For several months the property manager let him slide, until the owner got antsy.  His neighbor—a disabled combat vet on disability, going to school—paid a couple of months of his rent from her stipend.  I covered June rent and food for him out of pocket, though I haven't seen a royalty check since May, and my wife's been unemployed since May. (No, we're not broke yet.  Though savings and cards and backups are getting scarce.  We're STILL waiting on that 2009 Federal Income Tax Refund, you IRS bastards.  And 2010. "Lost."  Three times.  Is that 0bamaspeke for "We're broke too"?)  He can't drive because of the headaches, can't go out in daylight without wearing welding goggles, and can't recall his appointments or medication. Forgetting appointments is further "proof" that you're faking, because pain isn't really a problem, you know.  He does laundry at our place when I drag him down here, and I buy him socks on occasion.  That reminds me, I need to do so again.  Oh, yes, under the current administration's "plan" his appeal will take 2-7 years, because they aren't hiring anyone else to save money.  (My wife worked in military training.  They eliminated that position.  Because, when you're fighting 2/3/5/what are we up to now? wars, it's a PERFECT time to cut military training.  She interviewed at the Budget office, and then that position was eliminated.  Again, this is a rant for another time).

When I talk to contractors in Kuwait and Iraq making $50 a week to work 12 hours six days a week in 126 degree heat, doing construction, while being legally required to fast (including no water) from dawn to dusk or face jail and beatings, and whose female associates are expected to put out for a "chaste" married Arab, I know what poverty looks like.  When I talk with other vets about 10 year old Afghan kids who weigh 50 pounds and know how to defuse bombs as a marketable skill, because that's how they survived to be ten, I know what poverty looks like.

When I talk to a former South African Catholic priest, who left the Church in disgust over the ass-covering (no pun intended) about child molestation, moved to America, got a job, and can tell you about diseases that mutilate the body, people panning for flakes of gold to buy food and not even knowing what medicine is, I get an idea of what it looks like.

Heartless?  Yes, I am heartless when some urban punk with $10 grand of rims, amps and gadgets on his car pulls into a convenience store with a food stamp card, buys junk food, beer, lottery tickets and smokes.  BECAUSE THAT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE POVERTY TO ME.  And yes, I saw that daily, dozens of times, at the convenience store across the street from the house that got burgled.  I probably could have applied for one of those cards myself, but I had the luxury of self-respect.

Heartless?  When someone accuses me of "dicksizing" but has no actual argument to present, no facts, and doesn’t appear to be doing anything to help anyone, other than blaming those "evil right wingers", yes I am.  I'm also not a "right winger" but I'm sure you can convince yourself I am.

Really, let's look at that again. The left's ideal is that everyone be equal.  So, Wendi, you're proposing we lift the 80th percentile into the 90th percentile, and sneer at the 30th percentile?  "Dicksizing"?

Poverty is a scale.  However, poverty in America is better than middle class most other places.  My bet is that you probably have no clue what real poverty is like.  Read Scalzi's list again.  I like John, he's a good guy, and I would never suggest he had ill intentions.  He's got you pointed in the right direction.  It's probable that what you read there IS poverty to your way of thinking, and if so, you should consider yourself amazingly blessed, because ¾ of the world would abandon what little they have right now, and accept almost any terms, to have it.  Remember that young Filipino women knowingly prostitute themselves to wealthy Arabs for $50/week, and clean house, cook and wash as well, because it will help their families.  THAT is poor.

I have never been poor.  I've only been inconvenienced.

If you have a roof, food, a fridge, a stove or microwave, a car, and access to the internet or a game you may be inconvenienced.  But you are not poor.  If you have a credit card, no matter how extended, you are not poor.

This doesn't mean I won't help you.  Just understand that no, you really aren't entitled to anything, and if there were entitlements, you're a long way down the list for them.

And if you're going to whine to me about poverty, I do expect that you be able to identify it when you see it.  It would also help if you've actually done something about it.

Ten percent of Americans are at the bottom end of the American bell curve.  But only a tiny number of those are really poor and in need of help.  The rest are sucking resources the truly poor, here and abroad, need. 

So much for liberal compassion.  It drives a Prius and plays Wii.

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