Large Fierce Mammal

As many of your know by now, and those that don’t will in a moment, I have been a security consultant for 37 years. 35 with the LFM family firm Whynacht Security Solutions.

As with most successful businesses, the schedule is demanding and can get unruly if you don’t keep your saddle cinched tight and don’t spare the spurs! Even then, an outfit that’s been solving other peoples’ problems for more than three and a half decades can find itself fielding the curviest of curve balls.

Our business model is tried and tested, as you might expect after all these years, and generally pretty bulletproof against surprises because, like any good bar stool, it’s built on these Three Legs of Reality:

1. Murphy’s Law — “If anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible time”;
2. Speaking your plans aloud is the best way to hear the Gods laugh; and
3. No good deed goes unpunished.

Naturally there are other influences that one must be ready to accommodate — the fact that, as the saying goes, “You will generally find that the enemy has two courses of action open to him, and of these he will choose the third,” and that anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice, to name a few — and these one must be ever ready to navigate as swells upon the sea, but they are not absolutes like the Big Three.

All to the good, because back at the turn of the year we launched a new invoicing system here at HQ that as of yesterday was well on the way to automating the process of issuing recurring billings and statements to clients carrying an open balance past the end of a month. Heretofore, for clients set up for electronic delivery, we have created the invoice or statement as a pdf and then attached it to an email for sending. Considering the volume of invoices that go out of here in a year, automating as much of that process as possible will save a lot of time … when it works. (more…)

“How much do you trust your government?

“It’s the eternal American question, but one Canadians should be asking themselves, too.

“Because in a few months, we will presumably all wake up free — for the first time in any of our lives — to legally possess recreational cannabis.

“And with that new freedom will come a new relationship with government. Government, which has for generations policed and prosecuted cannabis use, now wants become (sic) our dealer, too, with tools to learn and record every detail of our consumption habits.

“Legalization is only sensible. It was good to hear former Toronto police chief Bill Blair, now a Liberal MP and Justin Trudeau’s point man on the file, tell me flatly that there is no evidence cannabis is a “gateway drug,” the canard authorities have used for so long to justify ruining so many people’s lives.”

What you just read is an excerpt from an article published yesterday to CBC News under the title Can you trust a government pot dealer?: Neil Macdonald. He’s talking about Canada’s impending Cannabis Act brought to you by the same government that is at once working to push through Bill C-71, An Act to amend certain Acts and Regulations in relation to firearms that passed first reading in the House of Commons on 20 March 2018. It’s being sold to the non-gun owning public as a solution to the rising problem of gang violence described in another CBC piece posted 7 March 2018 titled Gang murders bucking trend toward a less violent Canada, summit told, Fewer Canadians are shooting each other than a generation ago — but gang life is as violent as ever.

As quoted above in the matter of marijuana, “Legalization is only sensible. It was good to hear former Toronto police chief Bill Blair, now a Liberal MP and Justin Trudeau’s point man on the file, tell me flatly that there is no evidence cannabis is a “gateway drug,” the canard authorities have used for so long to justify ruining so many people’s lives.”

That’s a pretty clear statement that as far as the Government of Canada is concerned, consumers of marijuana will no longer be viewed or treated as users, possessors, or purveyors of heavier drugs, whether by intent, act, or potentiality, unless they actually are found to be users, possessors, or purveyors of heavier drugs. You see, we already have laws on the books for that, and the fact that they, not unlike those that brought us the noble experiment of Prohibition, have no real influence on stopping use of, and trafficking in, hard drugs is beside the point.

In application though, we see a template being applied to the legalization of marijuana that has parallels with the way the measures of Bill C-71 are being described  — the legal activities of law abiding citizens come wrapped in a heavy dose of furrowed brow and wagging finger because, without that, we’d all go off the rez at the drop of a hat. Wouldn’t we?

Nevertheless, quite an enlightened move to admit that smoking a joint doesn’t make one a junky. Any more, I might add, than having a firearm makes you a mass murderer, having a penis makes you a rapist, a vagina makes you understanding and nurturing, having a driver’s license and a motor vehicle makes you a speeder, buying or possessing alcohol makes you an impaired driver, or having a child makers you a parent. (more…)

I read an article the other day written by Josh Makuch and published last Friday to Vice  with the title, “I’m a Veteran In Favour of More Gun Control — Gun owners could learn a lot from how the Canadian military treats their firearms.” This was, of course, trendy because the Trudeau government is only this month rolling out the latest federal tweak to Canadian firearms laws in keeping with a campaign promise to combat “gun violence” by revising, yet again, the laws governing those who legally own, or wish to legally own, firearms.

This time, the motive is allegedly to stop gangsters from engaging in firefights over drug turf — read Gang murders bucking trend toward a less violent Canada, summit told,
Fewer Canadians are shooting each other than a generation ago — but gang life is as violent as ever, published by CBC News on 7 March 2018 — and the means of doing that appears, for the most part, to be by reversing certain aspects of the previous government’s amendments to firearms legislation. Remember, because governments never forget, that those predisposed to obey the laws of the land, no matter how onerous, misbegotten, and demonstrably worthless those laws may be in accomplishing their stated purpose, represent the lowest of the low hanging fruit when governments want to be seen to “do something”.

My first reaction to the main title of the Vice article was, “So what?” To the subtitle about how much gun owners could learn from how the CAF treats its firearms I contributed a snort of derision and an utterance of, “Bullshit.”

Normally I would read something like this — or not — and ignore it — or not. Not, in this case.

In fairness, this is an opinion piece written from Mr. Makuch’s personal perspective as a Canadian combat veteran, but notwithstanding the respect he has earned and is owed from that, his status as a Veteran does not bestow any particular enlightenment in the area of firearms management beyond that required of him by his former employer.

Why should Mr. Makuch give a shit what I think of his opinions? No particular reason beyond what two Men may respectfully argue over beer, and my only reason for even addressing it today is that in addition to its timing, this particular piece was couched in terms evocative of a few pet peeves of mine. So I felt compelled to read it more than once, and eschew silence thereby.

First, making the assumption that a Soldier’s opinion should hold more weight than that of the average citizen in the matter of laws governing civilian firearms ownership will make perfect sense if you don’t think about it too much. (more…)

LFM Photo (click to enlarge)

When last we convened in the matter of musketry, I closed with reference to how, “The care and feeding, proper shooting, and maintenance of a wooden stocked rifle, particularly one of this vintage, requires dedication to what it means to be a Marksman.”

As you will know from having read the first installment in this series, my training in Marksmanship and the Hunter’s Art came by way of:

• The Man or Men forever unknown to me, by whose diligent care in the service of their Nation one battle scarred Lee Enfield No.4 Mk.1* rifle made its way, intact and serviceable, to the quiet racks of a surplus store in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia;
• Understanding and supportive parents; and
• A willing and eminently qualified WW2 veteran.

In keeping with our stated purpose here today, let’s go back to the rifle itself, and talk about history. History and decisions actually, because decisions, good and bad, are what history is made of. A warning first that while there are parallels with the efforts of other nations, my focus will be on the Lee Enfield rifle, its various heirs and successors.

Since the inception of center fire ammunition, and the design of standardized repeating rifles for general issue to military forces who would shoot it at each other, old school military rifles issued to British and Commonwealth soldiers were classic examples of the gunsmith’s art. Those built outside periods of open warfare often approach contemporary sporting arms in fit and finish, albeit veering more toward the utilitarian in the latter. Built from forged and milled steel components mounted in precision inlet wooden stocks, much relied on hand fitting by experienced craftsmen so each rifle, while seemingly identical to its brethren, was distressingly unique. As a result, parts interchangeability between rifles absent more skilled hand fitting was a dream for decades, compensated for by demanding that weapons built for soldiers be the very antithesis of fragility.

Notwithstanding the brutish circumstances in which it was meant to be applied, the SMLE (Short Magazine Lee Enfield) Mk.III that saw service in the trenches of World War I (precursor to the No. 4 and No.5 rifles of World War II to which we will return presently) was literally a finely tuned instrument of purpose. Each specimen came from the factory with its own unique marriage of wood, to steel, to ammunition, in order to predictably control harmonics in the barrel during firing.  You see, the barrel of a rifle, any rifle, is not so rigid a thing as you might think. Held horizontally in a firing position, it suddenly springs into a sinusoidal “barrel whip” as the bullet travels its length from chamber to muzzle. While not as rubbery a phenomenon as Bob l’éponge demonstrates here, you’ll get the picture if you imagine his arms are the barrel from the moment of firing at stage right until the bullet leaves the barrel stage left. (more…)

AC-130 Gunship expressing its nation’s displeasure. (Source: breakingdefense.com)

Knock Knock

By LFM

Our foe believed his camp well hid,
But OPSEC, his was slack.
We knew exactly where it was
And gave his bivouac.

Maple leaf, still afloat though sweating from the effort. (Source: Getty Images)

If you ain’t from around here, you probably won’t know how many tweaks and revisions the national anthem of Canada — O Canada — has undergone since it was first performed, as a French poem set to music, on 24 June 1880. As with any popular patriotic song, it went through a series of translations, rearrangements, and rewrites until the first verse was adopted, in both official languages, as the national anthem of Canada by way of the National Anthem Act in 1980. That’s right — 1980. I mean, some of us old folks were even alive when that happened!

As recently as this very year, the Canadian Government under the leadership of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has put its own mark on l’hymne national by changing the line, “‘True patriot love in all thy sons command’ to ‘True patriot love in all of us command,’ ensuring gender parity.  No change was required to the French version.” That last bit about the French version is because, well, Québec.

Even with his fixation on gender neutrality, inclusiveness, and diversity; each of which he utters with such wide eyed regularity as to render all three references meaningless, I still find Justin Trudeau inspiring. So much so that he inspired me to give you this.

Gods help us, every one.

Ode to an Anthem

By LFM

An anthem is a song that tells
The story of a land,
From birth up to the day it’s sung
Right where you proudly stand.

We’ve governments rewriting ours
So that’s not what it does,
Ours tells the nation’s history
The way they wish it was.

To make it gender neutral,
More inclusive and diverse,
By governance of wishful thought
It just keeps getting worse.

They’ll labour day and night to add
Another word or two —
Diverse and all inclusive rhymes
For LGBTQ!

A tempest in a teapot though,
And worthless great to-do —
Most asked to sing O Canada,
Will have no fucking clue.

No.4 Mk.1* rifles manufactured by Savage for lend lease were marked with the squared “S” ahead of the model number, and clearly emblazoned as “US PROPERTY” even though nobody expected or wanted them back. (Source: JoeSalter.com)

The first firearm I came to own was a Lee Enfield No.4 Mk.1* service rifle built in 1942 by the Savage Arms Company as part of the U. S. lend lease programme in aid of the British war effort against Nazi Germany. In 1973, at the age of 16 and with the approval of my parents, I spent over an hour carefully selecting it with the aid of WW2 veteran Lester Beck, owner of Vet’s Surplus in Lunenburg, from among his extensive stock. I can still remember the scent of Mr. Beck’s stock room, and the way handling those old weapons made my hands smell. A heady mixture of gun oil, grease, and history.

Choice made, I paid a hard earned $25.00, bid Mr. Beck good day, and set off to carry my rifle the four blocks home in the middle of a business day that invited the kind of vehicle and pedestrian traffic one would expect in what was then an exceptionally prosperous town. As I walked I carried the rifle in my right hand, and in my left a paper bag containing its bolt and five rounds of ancient .303 British ammunition — the cartridges a gift thrown in because Mr. Beck had a policy of never letting anyone walk out of his shop with a firearm absent means of making it go bang.

My trip was uneventful with the only interruption being another store owner who charged out his door wanting to take a look at the rifle. No police intervened or were even alerted. No shots were fired. No lives were lost.

A condition of parental permission to acquire a rifle that had been the primary service weapon of British and Commonwealth armies through both world wars was that I learn to use it safely, and in this endeavour I was more than amply served by living next door to, and being held in the esteem of, a Gentleman of whom I have previously spoken. Charles Kenneth Knickle, known to his friends as Bill, served throughout WW2 in the Royal Canadian Army, finishing his service as a small arms instructor to war’s end. If ever there was a Man qualified to teach a lad the musketry of the Lee Enfield, he was it. To this day I never handle any firearm, load or fire a shot without hearing his voice, and with the express intention of being True to what he taught me.

I still have that rifle, and while I would be surprised if in its time in service in the hands of other Men it wasn’t used to end the lives of enemy soldiers, all I can speak to with certainty is that it and I have been instrumental in respectfully taking those of four Deer.

With the exception of Canadian Rangers serving in northern regions who still use it to this day due to its superiority over more “modern” options under arctic conditions, Canada retired the Lee Enfield as an item of general issue in favour of the semi-automatic FN FAL after its service in the Korean War. The result was many tens of thousands of Lee Enfields pouring into the civilian market. Some were mere relics unsafe to even consider firing, others like mine, remained in their well maintained though battle scarred and eminently fireable condition, but many of the low mileage examples were commercially modified into effective big game rifles either through having most of their all encompassing military wood furniture removed to make for a lighter sportier package, or by being fully refinished, tapped and drilled for scope mounting, and rebedded in beautifully checkered walnut Monte Carlo stocks. To this day, the .303 British cartridge, fired from some variant of Lee Enfield, can be seen in the field in any big game season in Canada.

The care and feeding, proper shooting, and maintenance of a wooden stocked rifle, particularly one of this vintage, requires dedication to what it means to be a Marksman. More on this as we progress in these considerations.

I had cause this morning to reflect on how often I begin a statement with the words, “Nothing annoys me more than ….”

As it turns out, a great many things annoy me, and they all appear to be vying for the position of top dog.

The most fulfilling moments in my so far 37 year career as a security consultant have involved engineering nasty surprises for miscreants, mostly human but occasionally from other tribes, who thought they were smarter than everyone else but weren’t. Oh, sure, along the way we’ve saved a few lives, but that was just collateral un-damage from the real objective — having fun at the expense of every maliciously self-indulgent shithead who comes into our sights, and getting paid for it.

Every year, and in some cases every month, puts even more sophisticated toys and games at our disposal, not least of which is a constantly broadening array of surveillance platforms and analytical tools offering target identification and behavioural pattern analysis that it would be an insult to refer to using such passé references as “eagle eye” and “fine toothed comb”. Add to that the mind of a truly black hearted analyst, and it doesn’t get more fun than that.

This is all well and good as long as you’re operating under near perfect first world conditions, but it must never be forgotten that over-reliance on 21st century technology and its supporting infrastructure is comparable to enjoying the affections of the woman or man of your dreams while ignoring the knowledge that she or he is only mostly faithful to you, and so one day may be gone forever.  The average mind is self-deluding in the enjoyment of having something wonderful, so that even faced with periodic temporary examples of how life would be without it, these are viewed as brief inconveniences instead of lessons, so thought dwells instead on anticipation of the wonderful thing’s return as though this too shall inevitably pass. A sense of entitlement and false permanence is thus engendered, and latent disaster guaranteed.

The real life lesson here is to enjoy and exploit every advantage these advanced technologies can provide, but to do it with purpose. To make life easier while you earn a living, and position yourself so that when the day comes it all stops working, you’re far ahead of the throng with a well entrenched, down and dirty, Plan  B.

Here’s an intellectual exercise for you. Next time the power and/or communications grid goes down, instead of letting your mind run straight to trying to find out how long the outage will last, take it down a different track: Is this it? Then light some candles and enjoy a spirited discussion over what you’re going to do if it is. If you need some comfort to fortify you against averting your eyes from the very thought, look at the bright side; if this isn’t actually “it”, you may not even be alive when that day comes, or its onset may just kill you outright, so why worry?

In the spirit of that sentiment, let’s turn our attention to the word that is the title of today’s article — Pervertibles. (more…)

The year I got my first coveted pair of snowshoes for Christmas, we had over half a meter of snow on the ground before school closed for the holidays. I was stoked! Then the rain and springlike temperatures came, starting Christmas Eve and persisting until all the snow had melted. I recall watching it vanish from our backyard with a sad and pathetic snowman as the benchmark. Looking out boxing Day morning, the yard was bare and all that was left of him was a nub the size of my head. He’d been taller than me.

Still the rain fell. In an hour he looked like a cup of grey slush. The rain fell harder. The wind blew warmer. When he was finally gone, still the rain and wind persisted another hour; I felt, just to be sure my hopes were dashed.

And then the wind changed to the north, the temperature plummeted, and winter became a snowless deep freeze until spring couldn’t stand it any longer and stepped in to put an end to the shenanigans.

A year later, the forests were denied to anyone on foot who didn’t have snowshoes or cross country skis. I was in my element, and the Forest Spirits laughingly whispered that last Winter wasn’t about me at all.

The present one either, come to that.