Category Archives: Texana

Battleship Texas

texas2.jpg

Not sure when this was taken, but possibly after the retrofitting in 1990 before moving back to the permanent berth near the San Jacinto battlefield. How many kids get to sleep on an almost hundred year old battleship that fought in both world wars? Mr. B. will in January with his Cub Scout pack. Count me as another kid. I’ll also be there.

The independent Texas electricity grid

Long may it wave, even in the face of invitations to join the East and West grids to extend the reach of renewable energy sources. Looks good on paper, maybe, but it’s a bad idea when you consider that we are never struck by brownouts and blackouts occurring elsewhere (not to mention being immune from the political whims of federal regs over rates, terms and conditions of transmission), and we already lead the nation in wind generation. Stay independent, ERCOT.

Via Instapundit.

Willingham was no poster boy

So says the Corsicana judge who sentenced him to die for the arson-murder of his three children, a toddler and two infants, and he makes a convincing case. For me. It’s a rebuttal to the anti-death penalty crowd–the usual suspects, including the Grits for Breakfast blog and the New Yorker, who think they have a winning hand in the callous wife-beater Willingham.

All because one outside analyst pronounced the state’s fire forensics in the early 90s case faulty. Now other partisans who claim Willingham was "an innocent man" are piling on Gov. Rick Perry, who wasn’t in office when Willingham was convicted but did deny his reprieve, claiming he’s obstructing justice by undercutting a state investigation. One of them is Paul Begala, the famous Democrat attack-dog, who likes to toss around the porn-word "teabaggers" on CNN. What a crew.

As one of the commenters at the Volokh Conspiracy has it: "I know the dude [was] guilty [because] his story makes no sense to me, and I doubt it would to any father. If my daughter woke me up to tell me the house was on fire, well, a lot of things might happen but one thing that isn’t going to happen is that she dies and I live." Nope.

New Orleans Greys

This evening in 1835, the New Orleans Greys assembled for the first time in the grand coffee room of Banks Arcade in the French Quarter. They were one of the few volunteer units of the Texas Revolution which could claim battle honors at Bexar, the Alamo, San Patricio, Refugio, Coleto, Goliad, and San Jacinto.

One hundred seventy-three years later, the Mexican government still has their silk "God and Liberty" battle flag, captured at the Alamo, which it has steadfastly refused to relinquish despite requests from governors and presidents. The tattered remnants are believed to be hidden in the archives of the Museo Nacional de Historia at Chapultepec Castle in Mexico City.

Off to Enchanted Rock

Mr. B. and I leave early tomorrow morning for the annual fall Cub Scout camping trip. This time we’re staying at Enchanted Rock state park, the big pink granite dome north of Fredericksburg where Texas Ranger Jack Hays fought off a Comanche war party about 1844.

The boys will be hiking to the top at noon. Not sure I’m going to make it to the top this time, but have done it many times before. Fortunately the mail today brought my review copy of Mike Cox’s new book, so I can read until they come down.

We’ve been advised to bring lots of bug spray, as all the recent rain in the Hill Country out there has vastly increased the mosquito population. Forecast highs in the seventies, lows in the fifties, however, should make long pants and long sleeves comfortable, as well as protective.

Pilot walks away from crash

Lake Buchanan instructor pilot Alan Crawford, who has a Web page showing how his Lone Star-painted, kit-built Glasair Super II-RG was put together, walked away from a crash in it Oct. 3. The daily’s crash shot shows the Glasair nestled between several mesquite trees in San Saba County west of Austin. Good piloting and good luck.

Rock on

The latest annual ACL music fest hereabouts showed, once again, there is no shortage of people willing to believe the local hype and travel across the world to hear a bunch of retread bands playing the same old, same old. Usually, after a hard local summer, they get a humid dust bowl for their trouble. This year they got a swamp.

Via Dustbury. (That’s right, this thing is so boring to us locals, I had to get the tip from Oklahoma.)