Indigenous Ability

  There is not a Warrior, “sheepdog,” scout, “Hoo-ahh!” tactical warhorse alive who does not tout situational awareness. There is no prepper, combatives certificate possessing, “Got the OODA Loop t-shirt” wearing Hoss who will tell you that being unaware of your environment is a good idea. None. Eyes on. Ears pricked. Alertness primed. Aware and awake is the first and, often, best defense. Pop Quiz One- Point Southwest, right now, no hesitation. Two -You have been kidnapped. You have been locked in a trunk. During the brief transport to the house you are to be kept or dismembered in you notice an open area next to the house. At some point you are able to grab a phone and have 10 seconds to describe what surrounds the house. Is that open area a field, a meadow, or a pasture? [There is a difference and scouts, and CIA Field Operatives alike know that difference. Do you?] Three -Name the last body of water you drove over or next to. Four- If it is a river, which wa...

  Agarrando The gaucho, the Argentinian and Uruguayan equivalent of the US cowboy, carried blades, most often the  facon , a long sword-like knife, or sometimes the  desjarretadera , a working or task knife. The llanero horsemen of Venezuela and Colombia likewise all wielded blades. But where the gun took the premier spot in the American West, the blade was the go-to in South America. Knife fights, knife-duels, knife games were common. Often the goal of these “disagreements” was to merely mark up the face of the opponent and leave them alive. Of course, the violence often went further but the prioritizing of knife over gun and even holding a less-than-deadly goal [face-marking] as an ultimate sign of skill we have more chance for actual pure tempered tactical know-how to persevere. These knife-duels were often conducted in  pulperias  [the south American equivalent of the Old West saloon] and were “refereed” by those present. The ultimate compliment...

  Greetings Crew! The Skippable Part : This Old Man is back from vacation—the photos are from a week of river running in craft ranging from this aging body, to my sailboat, to canoes, kayaks, white water rafts, and jet skis. 56-years-old is around the corner, so gotta get as much meanness in before she fails me. I hope you can say the same! “ You are an old man, take a rest: What? If I were running in the stadium ought I to slacken my pace when approaching the goal? Ought I not rather to put on speed?”— Diogenes responding to the clueless. The Meaty Part A little preview and tentative timeline of things to come… The “Bull” Position ·         Black Box will start covering the Old School “Bull” Position, that is, survival when an opponent has Top-Saddle or Mount. ·         There is nothing sportive here and it ain’t your time-eating subtlety game. ·         When ...

  [Non-Fighty. Skippable. Consider this one a sibling of the prior offerings… Recreational Reading as a Laboratory for Honor & Warrior Poets & Ethical Rhymers. ] This essay’s metaphor only goes so far. We are not literally what we eat. If I eat an entire bag of cheese-puffs, beyond fluorescing fingertips, I do not become a friable bit of dubious cheese dust. I do, of course, receive what nourishment is to be had from the consumption of these orange curiosities. So, I am what I eat in the sense of nourishing value. We are also not what we read until it has been digested and turned into fuel. Say I read every book on competitive swimming shelved in the Library of Congress, or every fight tome or “Can Do/Rangers All the Way!” bit of puffery also housed there… The mere reading of this material does less for me than the consumption of my bag of Cheetos. While my cheese snacks may not be optimum fuel, they will still be used to fire the chemical processes with...