I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal wish that all men everywhere could be free.
- Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
A poorer, but honest Ghost
Soooo... today I started my long, sad trek down through the inbred backwaters of South Carolina. To recapitulate: Saturday I was given a $100 dollar fine for doing 85 mph in a 70 zone, and when it turned out I didn't have that kind of money on me, in cash, the state trooper slapped an additional $85 on it and gave me a ticket, which I at first read as a summons to a court. I had decoded the atrocius handwriting of the trooper sufficiently to get a zip code, and thereby a city name. I needed to pay the ticket in Moncks Corner, SC, which is pretty exactly in the middle of fuck all.
When I came to the courthouse there was a sign that warned me not to take any guns, knives, cameras, recording devices and, for all I know, clothes, jewelry and peppermints into the building. I had to go through a metal detector, but at least they only held my cannister of pepper spray; I got it back afterwards, this being a free country where people are allowed to defend themselves.
At the counter I may have done something supremely stupid. The lady at first fidgeted for a while with my credit card, but since I had no American zip code, she couldn't accept it, so I had to fork over cash. And then she asked me for 25 dollars. Dumb, gullible, naive, hopelessly Lutheran, Norwegian me immediately corrected her and pointed out that the ticket said $185. As she looked it over again and discovered that she had punched in the wrong offense, it dawned on me that I had willingly given away $160 dollars. Well, South Carolina... all I can say is, use the money wisely and don't spend it all at once. No booze or tobacco, I'll be watching you!
I'm going to go curl up in the shower now and cry for a few hours over my lost money, but I'll leave you with this picture as an example of what passes for humor down here.
When I came to the courthouse there was a sign that warned me not to take any guns, knives, cameras, recording devices and, for all I know, clothes, jewelry and peppermints into the building. I had to go through a metal detector, but at least they only held my cannister of pepper spray; I got it back afterwards, this being a free country where people are allowed to defend themselves.
At the counter I may have done something supremely stupid. The lady at first fidgeted for a while with my credit card, but since I had no American zip code, she couldn't accept it, so I had to fork over cash. And then she asked me for 25 dollars. Dumb, gullible, naive, hopelessly Lutheran, Norwegian me immediately corrected her and pointed out that the ticket said $185. As she looked it over again and discovered that she had punched in the wrong offense, it dawned on me that I had willingly given away $160 dollars. Well, South Carolina... all I can say is, use the money wisely and don't spend it all at once. No booze or tobacco, I'll be watching you!
I'm going to go curl up in the shower now and cry for a few hours over my lost money, but I'll leave you with this picture as an example of what passes for humor down here.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Quote of the Day
If knowledge can create problems, it is not through ignorance that we can solve them.
- Isaac Asimov
- Isaac Asimov
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Quote of the Day
The Dilbert Principle: The most ineffective workers are systematically moved to the place where they can do the least damage: Management.
- Scott Adams
- Scott Adams
Natural Born Killer
So. This Tuesday I finally fired my first proper handgun, with live ammunition and all. Previous experience in adult life includes an airgun (rifle), gas-driven pistols and from childhood, playing around with innumerable toy guns... I was sooooo excited about finally getting to fire the real thing.
The Holy Ritual was to take place at an indoor shooting range called "Shooter's Choice", here in Wilmington. Interestingly, so long as a parent signs, youngsters can fire at will here. I don't know what the lower age limit is, but I saw several teens down there, because in North Carolina, shooting is a fun thing for the whole family. Even grandmothers were packin' heat!
A few words on the localities: At Shooter's Choice they let you rent guns and buy targets and ammo, and they also provide certified courses for people who want to acquire a permit to carry, or just want to learn gun safety. Both the shop and the range were well lit and well ventilated. The guys behind the counter were very helpful and nice, and not once did I see anything that could be remotely described as dangerous handling of weaponry. Everybody seemed to have a healthy respect for guns, and there was absolutely none of the gunslinging idiocy you'll see in any Hollywood western or action movie.
I went for the jugular and rented a Colt .45, bought ten target plates and 100 shots and went to it with gusto. I'm happy to report that I was a natural at it! I tried different distances - 8, 15, 21 and 25 feet and even hit a bulls eye at 25ft when I aimed properly. Seems my main mistake is that I have a tendency to pull my right arm towards my body instead of locking the elbow and keeping the arm straight - a very common error for beginners.
I was a bit surprised at how much the gun kicked when I fired it, the recoil was pretty powerful. Also, it annoyed me that every time the people next to us fired their revolver, which was quite loud, my eyes blinked. This was a physical reaction - my heart beat was normal, hands steady - but still my eyes blinked every fuckin' time, which meant I had to time my shooting to whenever they weren't firing. I'm told this too is quite normal, and that as I get used to the noise, my eyes will stop blinking.
Anyways, I had "hella" good fun. It is exciting to fire a gun and to feel that I'm starting to get the hang of it from the first shot - that I don't suck at it. Also, there's no denying... when you're blasting off 8 shots of .45, you get a God-like feeling, an internal power surge like nothing else I've ever felt.
On the other hand, I also quickly got a healthy respect for the weapon. When you feel how much power you have in your hands, you're either v-e-r-y careful, or you won't last long. I've discovered an activity that I don't actually suck at, and which is exciting and fun, so this is definitely not the last time I'm shooting!
Here are the pics from Tuesday's slaughter of targets:
C'mon muthafuckas!
Diiiie!
I like the "in the action" effect this otherwise blurry shot gives off.
Me holding up a dead target plate. This plate will never again roam the streets, stealing candy from kids or taking women by force.
An actual bullseye. Not bad for a first timer, eh?
I've had that stupid smile on all day. They'll probably have to remove it surgically when I get back to Norway.
The Holy Ritual was to take place at an indoor shooting range called "Shooter's Choice", here in Wilmington. Interestingly, so long as a parent signs, youngsters can fire at will here. I don't know what the lower age limit is, but I saw several teens down there, because in North Carolina, shooting is a fun thing for the whole family. Even grandmothers were packin' heat!
A few words on the localities: At Shooter's Choice they let you rent guns and buy targets and ammo, and they also provide certified courses for people who want to acquire a permit to carry, or just want to learn gun safety. Both the shop and the range were well lit and well ventilated. The guys behind the counter were very helpful and nice, and not once did I see anything that could be remotely described as dangerous handling of weaponry. Everybody seemed to have a healthy respect for guns, and there was absolutely none of the gunslinging idiocy you'll see in any Hollywood western or action movie.
I went for the jugular and rented a Colt .45, bought ten target plates and 100 shots and went to it with gusto. I'm happy to report that I was a natural at it! I tried different distances - 8, 15, 21 and 25 feet and even hit a bulls eye at 25ft when I aimed properly. Seems my main mistake is that I have a tendency to pull my right arm towards my body instead of locking the elbow and keeping the arm straight - a very common error for beginners.
I was a bit surprised at how much the gun kicked when I fired it, the recoil was pretty powerful. Also, it annoyed me that every time the people next to us fired their revolver, which was quite loud, my eyes blinked. This was a physical reaction - my heart beat was normal, hands steady - but still my eyes blinked every fuckin' time, which meant I had to time my shooting to whenever they weren't firing. I'm told this too is quite normal, and that as I get used to the noise, my eyes will stop blinking.
Anyways, I had "hella" good fun. It is exciting to fire a gun and to feel that I'm starting to get the hang of it from the first shot - that I don't suck at it. Also, there's no denying... when you're blasting off 8 shots of .45, you get a God-like feeling, an internal power surge like nothing else I've ever felt.
On the other hand, I also quickly got a healthy respect for the weapon. When you feel how much power you have in your hands, you're either v-e-r-y careful, or you won't last long. I've discovered an activity that I don't actually suck at, and which is exciting and fun, so this is definitely not the last time I'm shooting!
Here are the pics from Tuesday's slaughter of targets:
C'mon muthafuckas!
Diiiie!
I like the "in the action" effect this otherwise blurry shot gives off.
Me holding up a dead target plate. This plate will never again roam the streets, stealing candy from kids or taking women by force.
An actual bullseye. Not bad for a first timer, eh?
I've had that stupid smile on all day. They'll probably have to remove it surgically when I get back to Norway.
Cape Fear Museum
Cape Fear Museum is a local science & history museum for Wilmington and the greater Cape Fear region. It is the oldest history museum in the state, and holds a very varied collection on every topic from early history and geography through the trade of the 1700s to the civil war to modern stuff like tourism on the local beaches. They also have some of the hands-on stuff that I so like about American museums, and from which most Norwegian museums have a lot to learn.
All pics here.
Giant sloths like these once walked the earth. Yes, they were even bigger than me.
What Wilmington looked like in the 19th century.
A display showing the battle of Fort Fisher, which was the last stronghold of the Confederacy. They held the port of Wilmington open for ships till January 1865.
Old classroom.
You could turn a crank and make the lamp in the center glow. Wheeee!
These signs are posted at each end of Interstate 40. Maybe one day I'll drive 'em all.
All pics here.
Giant sloths like these once walked the earth. Yes, they were even bigger than me.
What Wilmington looked like in the 19th century.
A display showing the battle of Fort Fisher, which was the last stronghold of the Confederacy. They held the port of Wilmington open for ships till January 1865.
Old classroom.
You could turn a crank and make the lamp in the center glow. Wheeee!
These signs are posted at each end of Interstate 40. Maybe one day I'll drive 'em all.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Quote of the Day
Life may have no meaning. Or even worse, it may have a meaning of which I disapprove.
- Ashleigh Brilliant
- Ashleigh Brilliant
The USS North Carolina
Monday I went to see the USS North Carolina, which has rested in the Wilmington harbor, some way up the Cape Fear River, since 1962. The ship participated in every major battle in the Pacific during the war, and was the most highly decorated ship, with 15 battlestars to its name when it all ended.
All pics here.
Cannons galore.
Wanna make sumfin' of it, fucker?
From inside one of the gun turrets.
Makes for great kaboom.
Run, bastards, run.
Powder.
Also powder. Three of these went into one of the above.
The dentist room/torture chamber
Knobs, gauges, wheels, dials, levers and thingamabobs. I have no idea what any of them do; they could flush the toilets or blow a jap outta the water.
A kingfisher.
The crapper. Not much privacy here.
All pics here.
Cannons galore.
Wanna make sumfin' of it, fucker?
From inside one of the gun turrets.
Makes for great kaboom.
Run, bastards, run.
Powder.
Also powder. Three of these went into one of the above.
The dentist room/torture chamber
Knobs, gauges, wheels, dials, levers and thingamabobs. I have no idea what any of them do; they could flush the toilets or blow a jap outta the water.
A kingfisher.
The crapper. Not much privacy here.
A word of warning
Iffin yer ever fixin to stay in Wilmington, North Carolina I would advise you not to set foot in the Ramada Inn at 5001 Market Street. The room was not as promised and in their information folder, put in every room, it states clearly that breakfast is served between the hours of 6.30 and 9.30 am. When I arrived at the reception 3 minutes past 9 this morning I was told "yeah, sorry but that's closed". Muthafuckas.
Do you feel lucky, punk?
Monday evening I got a short crash course in gun handling from some (former) friends in Wilmington, NC. We were only playing around with an empty .22 pistol and an empty 22. rifle, but it was fun. Tuesday we're going to an indoor shooting range they have here in Wilmington, where I plan on letting my inner gunslinger out for a spin. If I don't get locked up or shot, there will be pictures.
Do you feel lucky, punk? Do you?
There's a new sheriff in town, fuckers.
Do you feel lucky, punk? Do you?
There's a new sheriff in town, fuckers.
Monday, December 26, 2011
I've got a ticket to pay
So, all you snickering bastards... here's the traffic ticket I got on Saturday. I have decoded the handwriting and it seems that I need to pay it cash, in person, at the courthouse in Moncks Corner, South Carolina. I'll pass the hat around shortly. Or maybe you bastards WANT to see me assraped in a southern jail... oh wait, stupid question...
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Quote of the Day
And when God, who created the entire universe with all of its glories, decides to deliver a message to humanity, He WILL NOT use, as His messenger, a person on cable TV with a bad hairstyle.
- Dave Barry
- Dave Barry
Fire in the sky
Ok, these are the pictures I took around 7am Saturday morning, down by the Battery area of Charleston. This city is so fuckin' lucky; not only does it have architecure and history, it also has one of the most beautiful sunrises ever. There were times, as you'll see in these pics, when it looked like the skies were on fire - or maybe like the clouds were giant, red icicles.
Oh, and Charleston has dolphins too. I wasn't fast enough to get my camera up, but as I was standing peacefully on the waterfront, taking pics of the sunrise, I was startled by a loud snort. I looked down just fast enough to see a fuckin' Flipper breaking through the waves at the very edge of the wall - not five feet below me. I tell you peeps, it was magic.
All pics here.
Fiiiiiiiiiire!
So unfuckinbelievably pretty.
Gaaaah.
Oh, and Charleston has dolphins too. I wasn't fast enough to get my camera up, but as I was standing peacefully on the waterfront, taking pics of the sunrise, I was startled by a loud snort. I looked down just fast enough to see a fuckin' Flipper breaking through the waves at the very edge of the wall - not five feet below me. I tell you peeps, it was magic.
All pics here.
Fiiiiiiiiiire!
So unfuckinbelievably pretty.
Gaaaah.
Sunrise on the houses of Charleston
I went into Charleston real early Saturday, to get in some pics of the sunrise, and what an effin beautiful event that turned out to be. But let me start by posting some pics of the lovely buildings around East Bay Street as they're illuminated by the early sunrise. Gawd, I wanna live here.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
East Bay Deli
While in the movie theater the last few days I've repeatedly seen a local commercial so helplessly, endearingly cheesy I just had to check out the place. I also realize I've been somewhat lax in my posting of food pics lately, so here goes...
This, apparently, is an "Authentic Italian". I've been to Italy several times, but never seen anything remotely like this.
The interior decor was quite charming, in an insane way.
Indeed they do.
This, apparently, is an "Authentic Italian". I've been to Italy several times, but never seen anything remotely like this.
The interior decor was quite charming, in an insane way.
Indeed they do.
Charleston again
As mentioned before, Charleston is possibly the prettiest city in the US; only Savannah is in the same class in my opinion. Friday I spent three hours walking around, mainly along Meeting Street but with a few sidetrips down Water Street and along the waterfront at East Bay Street. I did not photograph every building I saw, but got in about 100 pics.
Now consider that pretty much all of southern Charleston has this kind of housing... street after street after street of beautiful old buildings, from the grandest mansion to the comeliest shotgun shack. It is nice, cozy, and very, very southern. It oozes a gentle charm, and speaks of old money (and refined perversions). A nice city that I would love to spend more time in!
All Charleston pics here.
The City Hall.
George Washington.
The Confederate Museum. One floor stuffed with all sorts of junk, but as far as I could see, not a single word about the evils of slavery.
A memorial stone to the mother of president Andrew Jackson. She died in the harbor shortly after the British siege ended, two of her three sons died before her. Only Andrew grew up, and how...
Along a portion of Meeting Street, 4-5 black women sat knitting. Representatives of the Gullah culture, they sold their stuff on the street to passing tourists. I bought a small basket for ten bucks, mighty fine craftswork.
This would probably make it if one were to make an updated version of the Ten Commandments.
Lovely, private park.
Trolley.
A more or less random selection of houses.
Now consider that pretty much all of southern Charleston has this kind of housing... street after street after street of beautiful old buildings, from the grandest mansion to the comeliest shotgun shack. It is nice, cozy, and very, very southern. It oozes a gentle charm, and speaks of old money (and refined perversions). A nice city that I would love to spend more time in!
All Charleston pics here.
The City Hall.
George Washington.
The Confederate Museum. One floor stuffed with all sorts of junk, but as far as I could see, not a single word about the evils of slavery.
A memorial stone to the mother of president Andrew Jackson. She died in the harbor shortly after the British siege ended, two of her three sons died before her. Only Andrew grew up, and how...
Along a portion of Meeting Street, 4-5 black women sat knitting. Representatives of the Gullah culture, they sold their stuff on the street to passing tourists. I bought a small basket for ten bucks, mighty fine craftswork.
This would probably make it if one were to make an updated version of the Ten Commandments.
Lovely, private park.
Trolley.
A more or less random selection of houses.
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