One of the problems of dealing with distant wars is force protection, the other is logistics. As Napoleon famously said, “amateurs argue about tactics, professionals about logistics.” That does not sound like a dictum from the loser at Waterloo or the retreat from Moscow.
We are simply not dealing with people who have enough knowledge or love of truth to try to figure out reality. Fantasy worlds tailored to people’s competence dysmorphia are so much nicer and easier than reality.
I’m a recovering gun nut. I guess. I always found guns to be another example of cool design and often superb machining, with the additional emotional charge of: explosions.
I really feel stupid, saying this, or really, having to say it.
This may be image-heavy or long. I’ve been busy with the thing, and it’s turned out/turning out nicely.
I am moderately high on painkillers right now, so I decided to wash them down with some vodka. Don’t worry, I am very familiar with the lethal doses and am not far past the “slightly expansive” point.
When someone is carrying something very long, and very sharp, it’s important to keep from being the agent of their demise. You’ve got to think in terms of things like “what happens if this person is wearing it on their hip, and they slip in mud, land on the knife, the scabbard pops, and the blade winds up in their Femoral Artery?”
Bye Henry.
[I posted some of this over at Mano’s]
It’s hard for me to even think about Donald Trump, and his various craptastic election fraud maneuvers. But, when I do, my world rapidly turns into a throbbing sea of anger. Sure, I am most angry at Trump and his inane clown posse, but there’s enough to go around.