Category Archives: Texana

Pols should be required to do their own taxes

If they were required by law to do their own federal income taxes, the rules would be a lot simpler for the rest of us to understand and follow. Although that might diminish the livelihood of accountants like our friend Donnie Greenspan.

Still, as Instapundit says, the current complexity is a human rights violation

Mrs. Charm did our federal taxes fairly quickly again this year because, as usual, we have no deductions. Only had our mortgage interest payments to deduct in the past but they’re too small now to quality because the mortgage, which was low to begin with thanks to our foresight and planning, is almost paid off.

The kolaches of West

You’d expect the daily to go heavy on the fertilizer plant explosion in West, not far up the interstate from the rancho, and they have. Indeed, they even mention the famous Czech kolaches sold there. Famous because so many people buy them, often when enroute to Austin from North Texas.

Mr. B.’s grandmother usually brings us a box when she visits, having stopped in West for a snack on her way down from Fort Worth.

We never thought of West as a location for a disaster of such proportions, with estimates of “around 35” people killed and several times that number injured. Estimates because some homes and buildings were leveled, including a small apartment block across from the plant whose rubble still is being searched.

If we’d known there was a fertilizer plant in West we might have thought differently. Grain elevators can be volatile enough. Fertilizer, of course, was the chief component of McVeigh’s Oklahoma City bomb. Even country icon Willie Nelson is doing a benefit concert this weekend for West. He came up as a boy near there.

As for me and Mrs. Charm, we’re a little numb from all the recent tragedies, in Massachusetts and now closer to home. We’re just glad nothing on those scales has happened here. So we’re selfishly talking about pasteries and hoping grandma will still be able to stop off in West and bring us a box when she visits.

Cop’s right, veteran’s wrong: open carry is restricted in Texas

I admire most of what I find in National Review. There aren’t that many good conservative publications in America which is swamped with Leftist newspapers and magazines that only pretend to be impartial.

But National Review is just as capable of screwing up. And such is NR’s championing of a belligerent veteran who lives near Temple, which is just up the road from the rancho: “Texas Soldier Arrested for Rudely Displaying Weapon.”

Seems to me the self-described soldier is the rude one, smarting off to a cop who questioned his presumed right to carry a loaded AR-15 on a hike with his young son out in the countryside. He reportedly told NR: “I was legally exercising a right, especially in Texas where we have a right to carry weapons openly….”

That is not true and it’s really lazy journalism to publish it unquestioned and base much of a story on it. NR ought to know better than to publish any assertion of law without a simple Google verification.

Open carry is not legal in Texas, except when hunting or in a sporting event or on your own property. And arguing with a cop (legally called a “peace officer” in Texas) is pretty stupid behavior anywhere at any time no matter how dumb or venal the officer seems to be. It sets a really bad example for a child.

Via Instapundit.

A Mississippian in Texas

Jess McLean of Dallas, author of the only compendium of the troops of the 13th Mississippi Infantry Regiment (of whose unit I am finishing the first regimental history), is trying to preserve this old grave in Lyons, southeastwest of  College Station.

The lieutenant named on the tombstone, William H. Davis, began the war as a private in the 13th’s Spartan Band (later Company H) and had the doubtful distinction of being in command of the remnant of the regiment that surrendered at Appomattox in 1865.

Somehow 1LT Davis, who was from Chickasaw County, Mississippi, wound up buried on private property in Lyons, Texas. Jess still is trying to figure how that happened as well as trying to interest the SCV in protecting the grave with a fence. It needs one because the new landowner’s seasonal mowing has periodically scarred the stone and knocked it down

The good that comes with disasters

Whenever disaster renews itself, as it inevitably does in the form of hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, etc., I’m reminded of the many such events I had to “cover” in my 35 years as a print and electronic journalist and my recurrent discovery of the extraordinary degree to which ordinary people unselfishly pitched in to form a “community” to help each other.

It was a phenomenon that seldom got reported because it didn’t fit the formula my editors insisted be followed. They were, though they never admitted it, as Stephen Clark has written: “…merely courtiers to the political and cultural powers incumbent in society.”

Thus government and elite solutions were their narrative, though, generally, it wasn’t until government arrived that things really started to bog down, tempers frayed and so forth.

Bureaucrats, with their inflexible rules and authoritarian attitudes, backed by armed national guard and police with itchy trigger fingers stringing their yellow tape everywhere and keeping people from their damaged homes, just naturally promote frustration and isolation.

So I wasn’t surprised to see Rebecca Solnit’s book A Paradise Built In Hell: The Extraordinary Communities that Arise in Disaster —though I’m almost three years late in ordering it in Kindle form. It uses history lessons as varied as the 1909 San Francisco earthquake and the aftermath of 9-11 to persuasively debunk the usual elitist attitude that disaster brings human chaos, looting, murder, and so on: the cliche stuff you always see in movies and in most dystopian novels.

Stuff I can’t watch or read without wincing, because I know it’s mostly a pile of lies, as Solnit testifies:

“Part of the stereotypical image is that we’re either wolves or we’re sheep. We’re either devouring babies raw and tearing up grandmothers with our bare hands, or we’re helpless and we panic and mill around like idiots in need of Charlton Heston men in uniforms with badges to lead us. I think we’re neither, and the evidence bears that out.”

It certainly does.  Solnit is a self-proclaimed “progressive activist” but she’s one whose condemnation of Communist oppression shocks the Marxist left and she tells a valuable story of a kind of utopian community spontaneously arising in times of collapse.

Via Instapundit.

Assassin alert

Step right up, all you paid killers. Where else can you legally use a “silencer” on your murder rifle? Shoot (so to speak) right here in Tejas, that’s where. Howsomever, says the NRA:

“Suppressors are not ‘silencers,’ as depicted in typical Hollywood action films.  While suppressors do not eliminate the sound of a firearm, they do reduce the muzzle report in a manner similar to the way that a muffler reduces exhaust noise from a vehicle.”

Still… This little law, designed to absolve game and varmint hunters from noise pollution complaints, is bound to make your work easier. Just another paean to business in this here red state, while the blue ones (California, Michigan, etc.)  go bankrupt.

Via Darkwater at Phase Line Birnam Wood.

Rancho waterfall

Had a repeat the other day of last summer’s stone-steps waterfall in the back forty. Last July it took nearly ten inches of rain over several days to form the waterfall.

This week just 2.5 inches of rain did it, concentrated into a downpour of little more than one hour. Just like last time, I used six big ceramic floor tiles (left over from a previous job and stood up against the doors) to divert the stream from the glass doors to the patio. Worked fine, sending the big river curving away in a fish-hook shape. Only had a few soaked towels inside as a result.