What on earth can this rifle do that couldn't be done with something else, other than cause people who have an eye for classy guns recoil in horror? If ugly is somehow necessary, well, the Savage Model 42 is ugly enough for any practical purpose but nowhere near so ugly as the Little Badger:

And there's the very ugly M6 Survival gun, now available in civilian versions, ugly but again not in the same league of ugly as the Little Badger:

Both of these are ugly, but they have the advantage of incorporating a shotgun barrel as well as a rifle barrel. If indeed "survival" is the point of the Little Badger, well, it's outclassed except in ugly.

When it comes to an all-around survival/foraging gun, it's hard to beat the old and much-loved Savage 24. This over/under combination was made for decades in many variants, one of which is shown here: it's a 24-S, one of the least attractive versions but still recognizable as a real gun, not something that might have been issued to a Star Wars trooper. For my money of all the Model 24 combinations the .22LR/20 gauge is the bee's knees; it's a shame that Savage stopped making these guns and replaced them with the moderately hideous Model 42, but at least they had the decency not to produce anything like the Little Badger.

January 15, 2025: Why? Why?

Oh, God help us, the ugly gun trend gets worse every day. Here is the "FlightLite" [sic] "Herring Model 2024," which the NRA has described as "...AR-15 based lever action..." as if that justified it.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can stand...I didn't think anything could be uglier than the Chiappa "Little Badger," but clearly I was wrong.

No doubt this...thing...is intended to get around the AR-15 bans in some states and countries. No doubt some people will buy it. This should not have happened.

January 18, 2025: Today's Idiocy

From time to time I spot something in a supermarket or other store that makes me scratch my head at the stupidity of today's consumer. Here in Blacksburg we have many students who are vegetarians or worse, vegans; the local Kroger's caters to these dimwits. Here is the latest imbecility:

January 20, 2025: Well, He's Gone

Fifteen minutes ago President Buffoon's term ended after four long years. He can now stumble off into the mists of history; good riddance to him and everything he stands for.

February 2, 2025: The Festival Of The Meteorological Rodent

The report from Punxatawney is that the groundhog saw his shadow today. Six more weeks of winter. Well, Phil is at least as accurate a forecaster as the Weather Babes on TV.

February 9, 2025: Super Bowel Sunday (And No, That's Not A Typo)

I've spent the last few days digitizing dog pictures from our old albums, so that they can be displayed on one of those digital photo frame gadgets. Forty-one years of having dogs means you have a LOT of pictures. I've been through three albums so far, have 86 more images to go in the current one, and no idea how many more there may be in other albums stashed away in our spare room closet.

This is a tiring exercise for many reasons. First—and least important—is the fact that my back is killing me from the stooped positions I have to take. Much more importantly, it's emotionally draining. Seeing all those pictures of long-dead companions who have shared our lives for anywhere from 10 to 16 years each is wearing me down.

So many memories...For a variety of reasons I believe I have, at most, 10 years to go. Not long enough. I have come to realize that I can no longer, at age 77—nearly 78—have a dog. It would probably outlive me, and I have no one to whom it could go. I could never countenance any pet of mine ending up in a shelter or worse, being "put to sleep" because I was so inconsiderate as to die first. Nor do I wish to undergo the heartache—again—of losing a beloved animal should I live longer than I think I will.

I have absolutely zero interest in football, but briefly I've been watching the "Puppy Bowl," which is far more entertaining and far more honest than any football game could ever be. This isn't helping my melancholy outlook. Those adorable dogs remind me of what I have had, what I have lost, and what I can never have again.

February 26, 2025: The Last Tree

If you have followed this blog for any length of time you'll perhaps have read my essay on trees that have meant something to me in the course of my life. Today the last tree that was in our yard when we moved here 38 years ago was cut down.

It was a flowering crabapple, a spectacularly showy ornamental that every Spring burst forth with pink blossoms for a brief time. I have no idea which of the previous owners of this house planted it, nor when. The house was built in 1963, so I suppose it could have been planted then, or sometime afterwards; but it was certainly well over 40 years old. It had been steadily declining; in the last ice and windstorm a couple of weeks ago it lost some big branches. It was directly under our power line, too: a year or so ago another of our trees had grown up into the line and got set on fire, something we didn't want to have happen. I hated to lose it, but it was obvious the crabapple's time had come. We hired a tree service to do the deed; it was far too much for me to handle. The tree man came yesterday, to give me a very reasonable estimate. Today two workers showed up. A husky young man and a lithe, wiry young woman. He did the cutting, she drove the skid-steer and shoved branches and debris into the wood-chipper trailer. (That chipper is one of the scariest pieces of equipment I've ever seen. A few weeks ago a man working for one of the local tree companies fell into a chipper, about as grisly a fate as could be imagined. His work mates got most of him out, according to the news story, but it must have been like that famous scene in the movie Fargo. Yechh...)

I was immensely impressed with these two professionals. They showed up at 12:30 and were done by 3:00, including an hour for their lunch. It helps when you have a 24" chain saw and a skidder that handles logs 12-15 feet long and a foot thick. I thought about what it must have been like when this area was originally settled, back in the mid-18th Century. Virgin forest that had to be cut down with axes and hand saws! Those old timers really had it tough. Doing it today is not easy but back then it must have been literally back-breaking. No wonder they died in their 30's—if they were lucky enough to live that long.

May 9, 2025: Back From Europe

I returned two days ago from an extended (5 weeks) trip. A report will be posted soon, please be patient, we're still doing laundry and catching up on paperwork. We traveled again via Queen Mary 2. Went via London and Paris to Barcelona, whence we boarded a Viking cruise in the Mediterranean. Watch this space for a link when the report is up.

May 24, 2025: The Universal Words And Common "Culture"

As mentioned above, we've just come back from Europe. While there I was reminded of two facts: first is that English is becoming—if it isn't already—the universal language of the world. When I made my first trip across The Pond in 1966 it was a good thing that I spoke some French and my traveling companion spoke some German, because otherwise we'd not have been able to communicate at all. Nowadays at least in areas frequented by tourists, English is almost universally understood and spoken by the local population.

The second is that some words are simply universal. They're the same in every language, not only in meaning, but in spelling. We encountered these in at least half a dozen countries, always spelled the same way. Here are a few of them but no doubt there are more:

STOP
TAXI
PIZZA
SNACK
HOTEL
SPORT
OKAY
TATTOO
MINI
MAXI
BAR
VIDEO
EXPO
PHOTO
S.O.S.

(Yes, I know that last entry isn't a "word" per se, but its meaning is clear to everyone.)

Another thing that's become increasingly obvious over the years is the enormous influence of American pop culture. This is entirely due to television and Hollywood movies, which present a distorted view of American life. (I was once in Egypt where the soap opera The Bold And The Beautiful had such a hold on the imagination of the populace that the entire country came to a grinding halt when it was on TV. Most Egyptians seem to think all Americans are rich, beautiful, spoiled, and live in mansions. But I digress...)

In 1966 it was possible to spot Americans in Europe easily by the way we dressed, particularly with respect to shoes. The sort of athletic shoe so common today was unknown in the US: Americans wore normal street shoes. Today it is no longer possible to spot who's from where. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, wears the same clothes and sports the same logos, regardless of their nationality. Unless you hear someone speak it's not possible to determine where someone is from.

Some logos are more common than others. Names of cities and states in the USA are by far the most common words emblazoned across T-shirts and sweatshirts. Especially "NEW YORK," both the city and the state; but the names of a dozen or more American states and cities were also easily seen in any crowd, in any city we visited. Most of these were being worn by people who weren't Americans. "SAN DIEGO" and "CHICAGO" were popular, too; but "MILWAUKEE" and even "CLEVELAND" showed up from time to time, as did—of course—"TEXAS" which rivaled "NEW YORK" in numbers of sightings. This is an interesting thing, because I don't remember seeing "TORONTO" or "MONTREAL" or any other Canadian city. Why not, for example, "SASKATCHEWAN" or "WINNIPEG"? I have no idea. American sports teams got good exposure: the New York Yankees baseball team was everywhere evident.

Of non-US places "PARIS" or "ROME" and "OXFORD" popped up now and then. I don't recall seeing "MOSCOW" but I did see "BARCELONA." I have no explanation for this phenomenon of the predominance of American cities and states.

As anyone who's traveled to Europe can attest, too, the presence of American companies is widespread. I've seen a Subway sandwich shop in Russia, for Pete's sake; you will find the malign Golden Arches in any town in Europe of any size. For that matter I once was treated to dinner in a KFC in Amman, Jordan. Starbucks and Burger King are everywhere, too; plus I've counted at least five Five Guys franchises in Paris alone. But one company whose logo is surely known by every living human being outside of a Borneo rain forest (and maybe even there) is...Coca-Cola. In my early travels I would see Coca-Cola signs everywhere. Every bar and restaurant seemed to have Coca-Cola and displayed that fact. This trip, I saw none of that. The only "advertisement" I saw for Coca-Cola was on the side of a 60's or 70's vintage napkin holder in Crete. Hard to explain the near-total disappearance of an iconic brand.

Long Live The Flip Phone

I hate "smart" phones. After the trip we made to Europe a year and a half ago my wife forced me to get a "smart" phone because my beloved LG Wine flip phone wouldn't work there. I flatly refused to spend $1000 on the then-latest I-Phone; under compulsion I bought a Samsung Galaxy A15, and I hate the damned thing for many reasons, too many to go into here. I've been using it for a year and a half and I hate it more every day.

I have two, maybe three uses for a phone. First, to make calls; second, to receive calls. On very rare occasions I find it convenient to take a picture (all mobile phones are also cameras these days). That's it. I cannot comprehend the idea that someone should put his or her entire life on a phone: bank account numbers, credit card information, Social Security numbers, passwords, birthdays, etc., etc. What happens if the phone is lost or stolen? Your life goes with it. Still less do I understand the logic behind those little stick-on sleeves that people use to carry their driver's licenses, credit cards, etc. attached to the phone in one "convenient" package. Convenient for whom? I live in a university town with innumerable young women who carry their phone sticking out of the back pocket of their blue jeans. Maybe it's to make things easier for pickpockets? To me this sort of behavior is just asking for trouble.

Moreover, I loathe texting and refuse to do it. Texting makes no sense. If someone needs to speak with me, that's what the phone is for: call me, damn it. But too often the text is "Can you talk right now?" or something similar. If I can talk I'll answer: if not I won't.

But...I believe I have found The Way. About two years ago I bought a cheapo flip phone, one of those pay-as-you-go things, that costs me the magnificent sum of $15 per month, no contract, get-rid-of-it-when-you-want-to. You know, what on the detective shows on TV they call a "burner" phone*. It can't do "apps," and I don't want it to; but it makes calls and receives calls and has a camera.

Today I found out I can forward calls to my never-sufficiently-to-be-cursed "smart" phone to my "burner" phone. I am now liberated. Anyone who calls me is automatically routed to the "burner," which is half the size of the Samsung phone. Texts are not forwarded, which is no hardship. I can't check voicemail, either, which again is no hardship. Henceforth the Samsung will sit on my desk and act as a relay station. By the way, the burner phone is "unlocked," so if we travel outside the USA again I can buy and insert a SIM card that works wherever we're going, rendering me free of that damned Samsung even in Europe.

*The modern TV detective drama simply couldn't carry its plots forward without having the Good Guys as well as the Bad Guys use cell phones.

July 4, 2025: Rodenticide

I killed a groundhog today. This is nothing new for me, I've killed a lot of them. Since my dog Lucy died two years ago the word is out among the local critters that our yard is now a "safe zone," so we've been seeing a lot of wildlife in it.

Had this animal been smart enough to stay in the back yard I'd not have bothered him. We have no garden, and a groundhog in the back yard isn't doing me any harm so I "live and let live." But this one decided to build a burrow right up against the outside wall of my house. I suppose he thought to himself, "Aha! Here is a nice big flat rock, I can dig my home against it and have a solid, safe place to live!"

I have a couple of those "Hav-A-Hart" traps (is there any less suitable name for a trap?). These have one advantage: if a "non-target" species such as a rabbit or a squirrel takes the bait, I can let it go unharmed. Its disadvantage is that it doesn't effect an instantaneous kill, as does my neighbor's Conibear trap, with which he has killed at least 50 groundhogs in his garden. I don't have a Conibear trap and don't want one, lest a neighbor's cat, or the small dog who lives behind my house who periodically escapes to go a-roaming, might stick its head in and get killed. I would hate to have to explain to my neighbor what happened to his little terrier. Another disadvantage of the "Hav-A-Hart" is that if I'm not home when something gets trapped it may be a long while before I get to either let it go or terminate it. Even a few hours in the hot sun in one of those would be indefensible torture. I place it where I can see it from my deck, so I can check it several times a day.

I did the deed that necessity demanded had to be done using my 63-year-old Remington Nylon 11 .22 rifle and a CB cap. I took the trap plus temporary resident into the garage, closed the door, and POP! translocated him to the Great Garden In The Sky. May he forage in peace. I then washed up the blood, bagged the poor critter's carcass, and took it to the disposal site my neighbor with the Conibear uses.

I didn't want to do this. I hope I don't have to do it again, but I probably will have to: once a burrow is vacated sooner or later another groundhog will move into it. I would greatly have preferred to let him go, but in Virginia the law says that if you trap something you may not relocate it: you are required to kill it. Mr Marmot in his innocence sealed his fate when he chose to dig where he did. I can try closing up the hole after inserting a smoke bomb into it, but I did that last year to no avail. My father used to buy some sort of thing that looked like an M-80 firework but when lit released cyanide gas. Those are no longer sold (at least not to non-professional pest removers) and the smokers are pretty feeble. Shoveling dirt into the hole might slow down reoccupation but can't prevent it.

I'd baited the trap with carrots and sliced oranges; two days after putting it out I saw the doors were down, went to look, and there he was. At least he'd had a decent last meal. It isn't much to ease the pangs of conscience but it's something. I imagine that executioners in prison feel the same way about those prisoners on Death Row they have to kill when the time comes.

More Stupidity

From time to time I come across something that strikes me as terminally stupid. It's usually something related to advertising or merchandising; the best place to find such things is a "health food" store (ever notice how everyone who works in a "health food" store look emaciated and on the verge of death?) but supermarkets are also great places to encounter this sort of nonsense. Hardware stores aren't exempt either. Here are a few recent, choice examples.

Beer Charcoal

Well, what the hell, it's July 4th weekend, right? People will be having cookouts, and what's a cookout without beer, hey? So Kingsford brought this gem out. I wonder if they expect it to be sold to teetotalers as well as "normal" people? It "contains no alcohol," they are careful to point out, in small type, in both English and Spanish.

The Electronic Fly Swatter

This one might actually be fun. You put in the batteries (not included) and hit a bug... and ZAP! the little bastard is no more. I've seen electric "bug-zappers" that make a very satisfying noise when a victim touches the wires, so I assume this thing does too.

The Solar-Powered, AI-Enabled Bird Feeder

Sold in our local Tractor Supply store. You can watch birdies from the comfort of your armchair by using the function that sends HD images to your cell phone. Videos, too! Best of all you don't have to get out your copy of Peterson's Field Guide To The Birds, because this thing recognizes them for you and tells you what you're seeing. So if an Ivory-Billed Woodpecker comes but you're in a business meeting or aboard a cruise ship, you'll know it. What's not to like?

Last, But Not Least: "Plant-Powered" Laundry Detergent

Yes, you read that right. These days the term "plant based" is a big selling point in grocery stores. It's worth pointing out that everything sold in a grocery store is ultimately "plant based" because it's plants that make life on Earth possible. But this is without doubt the silliest "plant based" product I've seen in a long time. Nor is it a joke. Here is the blurb from the product's web site:

Don’t let harsh chemicals harm sensitive skin. ECOS laundry detergents and cleaning products are made without harmful chemicals and nasty ingredients found on our Nasties list. We use safer ingredients while offering superior cleaning power compared to many leading brands. Discover plant-powered, sustainable laundry detergents and other eco-conscious laundry products in our ECOS lineup today.

Notice that they don't tell you what it is, just what it isn't. This product thus shares the advertising philosophy that coined the term "non-dairy creamer." There's an old saying that "There is no medicine for stupidity," as I think all these products prove. They also prove the truth of P.T. Barnum's pithy observation that, "There's a sucker born every minute, and two to take him."

July 12, 2025: The Quicker Pecker-Upper

I knew there was a Museum of Erotica in Denmark (where else?) but I did not know until today there was a museum in Reyjavik, Iceland, devoted entirely to penises. Mrs Outdoorsman wouldn't let me go to the Museum of Erotica (why bother, in these days of Internet porn sites?). We're going to Reyjavik next year, but she has asserted that under no circumstances will we go to the "Icelandic Phallological Museum." It is, of course, handicapped-accessible, and chilsdren under 14 are not only admitted, they get in free. Since the age of consent in Iceland is 15 perhaps they want youngsters to be well informed when they hit that Magic Number of Legality. They need to know, after all, what to expect and all that sort of thing. No, I am not making all this up. Here's their web site if you want to test my veracity.

And yes, there most certainly is a gift shop. Described as...ahem.."unique" (I'll bet!) there are no doubt any number of really interesting gifts for the man—or woman—who already has everything.

But best of all, in the café, they sell "penis waffles." If you watch the little intro video on the web site you will see what they look like, covered in whipped cream and strawberries, to boot. You can buy the machine to make them from Amazon (where else?)

In this age of equality, of course, the ladies have to have an equivalent, and so they do. Another company sells a machine that makes vagina-shaped waffles. I will leave it to my readers to decide what that whitish material on these two confections represents.

Yum!