Category Archives: History

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Rule 5: The Three Graces

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Carly the Texan

Try as they might, Yankeeland just can’t escape Texans running for president: Cruz, Jeb, Rand. But none of these three have the deep roots Carly boasts, even if she left her hometown of Austin at age two and eventually became a Californian.

Cara Carleton “Carly” Sneed Fiorina is a fifth-generation Texan, with a father who was a teenage cowboy in the Panhandle before he became a distinguished law professor and conservative federal judge, and at least a cousin who was also a judge in the 1860s and a Confederate provost marshal in Austin during the Civil War.

You won’t find that last reference in this revealing portrait of her roots by Austin’s daily, which is much nicer than you might expect from a Democrat newspaper in a Democrat town. I picked up that little detail on my own, when I got to know the Sneed family of the 19th century via their crumbling old home which, in the 1980s, still overlooked I-35 in South Austin. This good article explains.

Carly’s still my favorite of all the candidates. The only one I like as well is Dr. Carson.

Ninety-four years later: The fifty

“The first finished version of this machine gun – the Browning M2 – was completed in 1921 and intended at the time to be used against tanks and aircraft. However, the gun would turn out to be a phenomenally rugged, reliable, and effective gun in a multitude of roles. It remains in American military use today virtually unchanged, and also with many other nations worldwide.”

My old MAT (Mobile Advisory Team) in Vietnam in 1969 had one mounted in the back of a jeep. Worked fine so long as you didn’t squeeze off too many long bursts at a time through its 45-inch barrel. Then the vibrations would snap the welds on the plate holding its pedestal mount to the jeep. Not to mention shattering your eardrums.

Can’t imagine its tripod-mounted ground role. In WW2 they’d mount two or three of them inside the wings of fighter planes to fight other planes or strafe troops on the ground. I expect it to be around for another century. Awesome.

Via Instapundit.

Israel’s 9/11 Memorial

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The Palestinians, along with many other Arabs, danced in the streets on 9/11. Our Israeli friends did not and they used some Twin Towers steel to make this memorial.

Bigger than Dunkirk

A video that’s been around at least since 2007, but I never saw it before Friday.

It teaches a great lesson in the heroism of the common man. As its epigraph says: A hero is a man who does what he can.

Never Forget

Has it really been fourteen years?

It seems much less than that. This chilling Israeli (well, at least Hebrew subtitled) video brings it all back.

Via Instapundit.

UPDATE:  An evacuation bigger than Dunkirk: 500,000 frightened people by thousands of volunteer boats from Lower Manhattan in 9 hours. Come on, you need a good cry today.

Waco, circa 1993

You get a lot of stupid assignments in journalism, mainly because a lot of editors have no imagination. They also have a herd mentality, i.e. if others are doing it they have to do it, too. Even if their resources would be better spent doing something original.

Thus I wound up sitting and sleeping in a cold car during much of the February to April ’93 Branch Davidian standoff, in a long line of similar cars on a two-lane back road occupied by similarly bored journalists similarly assigned to be part of the totally similar herd. The only break in the scrum blockaded front and rear by the state police was to leave the car now and then and go hang out with the TV guys in their heated satellite vans.

Fortunately we were too far away from the BD compound to have to listen to Billy Ray Cyrus sing Achy Breaky Heart, which the FBI insisted on loudspeakering into the compound hour after hour in a weird attempt to break the religious fanatics from their biblical fanaticism. Fat chance. We also were too far away even to see the ball of fire and the boiling black smoke when the compound finally went up and killed all those kids who were supposedly the whole point of the federal siege.

Reading this old Larry McMurtry piece brought it all back. The waste of time. The cold. The boredom. The impossibility of learning anything that everyone else didn’t already know. It’s one reason I consider myself a recovering journalist. And gratefully at that.