Sipsey Street Irregulars: A lifetime ago, a world away, in the country I grew up in but no longer inhabit . . .

Friday, September 6, 2013

A lifetime ago, a world away, in the country I grew up in but no longer inhabit . . .

Back when sanity reigned in high schools.

6 comments:

Jeff Wood said...: Sigh.

BSA Martini .22. Perfect for starting youngsters on.

I never knew you used them in the USA. Warm feelings.; September 6, 2013 at 6:43 AM
CJ Klekar said...: Ah, the good, old days...when did we become this 'scared of our own shadow' society?; September 6, 2013 at 2:58 PM
Pointy End Out said...: THATS MY OLD SCHOOL !!!!
What a trip !
I remember the range in the basement well...hair trigger .22's...it was right next to the fallout bunkers, cavernous wonders of cut-class explorations, terrible for make-outs though...I shouldnt admit this, but, I tried out for the team one year and just could NOT get used to the micro-sensitive triggers. Needless to say i didnt make the team because of that and to add insult to injury, I earned the nick-name "buckshot" - not good for a marksman...

Good stuff...Thanks for the link !; September 6, 2013 at 5:09 PM
Pointy End Out said...: BTW:

GO JETS !!!

(It was our team mascot, a go-gart with a cool jet body on it); September 6, 2013 at 5:12 PM
Anonymous said...: Not only in high school. When I attended a one room country grade school, we often brought our 22s to school so we could go hunting jack rabbits during lunch. The teacher checked to see that they were unloaded, and we kept them in the cloakroom during class.; September 6, 2013 at 6:21 PM
Anonymous said...: I was in Junior ROTC back in 1968 & 1969. Those two years got me an E-2 stripe when I finished Basic Training back in 1971. Got to shoot the .22's at the Western Kentucky University rifle range. Those were the good old days and those EVIL GUNS are now a forbidden subject.; September 6, 2013 at 10:38 PM

"Progress made under the shadow of the policeman's club is false progress."

I believe that liberty is the only genuinely valuable thing that men have invented, at least in the field of government, in a thousand years. I believe that it is better to be free than to be not free, even when the former is dangerous and the latter safe. I believe that the finest qualities of man can flourish only in free air – that progress made under the shadow of the policeman's club is false progress, and of no permanent value. I believe that any man who takes the liberty of another into his keeping is bound to become a tyrant, and that any man who yields up his liberty, in however slight the measure, is bound to become a slave. -- H.L. Mencken

"The Fate of Unborn Millions. . ."

"The time is now near at hand which must probably determine, whether Americans are to be, Freemen, or Slaves; whether they are to have any property they can call their own; whether their Houses, and Farms, are to be pillaged and destroyed, and they consigned to a State of Wretchedness from which no human efforts will probably deliver them. The fate of unborn Millions will now depend, under God, on the Courage and Conduct of this army-Our cruel and unrelenting Enemy leaves us no choice but a brave resistance, or the most abject submission; that is all we can expect-We have therefore to resolve to conquer or die." -- George Washington to his troops before the Battle of Long Island.

"We will not go gently . . ."

This is no small thing, to restore a republic after it has fallen into corruption. I have studied history for years and I cannot recall it ever happening. It may be that our task is impossible. Yet, if we do not try then how will we know it can't be done? And if we do not try, it most certainly won't be done. The Founders' Republic, and the larger war for western civilization, will be lost.

But I tell you this: We will not go gently into that bloody collectivist good night. Indeed, we will make with our defiance such a sound as ALL history from that day forward will be forced to note, even if they despise us in the writing of it.

And when we are gone, the scattered, free survivors hiding in the ruins of our once-great republic will sing of our deeds in forbidden songs, tending the flickering flame of individual liberty until it bursts forth again, as it must, generations later. We will live forever, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, in sacred memory.

-- Mike Vanderboegh, The Lessons of Mumbai:Death Cults, the "Socialism of Imbeciles" and Refusing to Submit, 1 December 2008

"A common language of resistance . . ."

"Colonial rebellions throughout the modern world have been acts of shared political imagination. Unless unhappy people develop the capacity to trust other unhappy people, protest remains a local affair easily silenced by traditional authority. Usually, however, a moment arrives when large numbers of men and women realize for the first time that they enjoy the support of strangers, ordinary people much like themselves who happen to live in distant places and whom under normal circumstances they would never meet. It is an intoxicating discovery. A common language of resistance suddenly opens to those who are most vulnerable to painful retribution the possibility of creating a new community. As the conviction of solidarity grows, parochial issues and aspirations merge imperceptibly with a compelling national agenda which only a short time before may have been the dream of only a few. For many Americans colonists this moment occurred late in the spring of 1774." -- T.H. Breen, The Marketplace of Revolution: How Consumer Politics Shaped American Independence, Oxford University Press, 2004, p.1.

Sipsey Street Irregulars

Friday, September 6, 2013

A lifetime ago, a world away, in the country I grew up in but no longer inhabit . . .

6 comments:

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