Bang!

M1911 A-1 semi-automatic pistol

Jack Duran, the reluctant hero of my mythic thriller series, is currently in the Karakum Desert of Turkmenistan about to engage in a gunfight for the first time in his life. To research the scene, I asked my attorney pal Norman Boxley--a former Infantry Commander in Vietnam--to give me a lesson in firearms and shooting. Together with his son Will and Will's Vegas buddy Rob, Norm drove us up to the Angeles Shooting Range in Tujunga Canyon just north of LA.I'd never been to a shooting range before. Guess what? It's loud! You're required to wear ear plugs and eye protection, and even though the shooters are all aiming toward the hills, the random, incessant BLASTS of the guns made the whole canyon feel like a war zone. I kept thinking how in a real firefight, with the barrels pointed at you, the noise would be a major fear factor.

Here's a sequence of Norm loading and shooting his trusty Glock, an Austrian designed semi-automatic that's very popular with U.S. law enforcement agencies. In the last shot you can really see the recoil; also note the shell ejected as the bullet is fired. [Click to enlarge]














Here the expert Will takes aim with his father's M-1 rifle. The lightweight M-1 was a standard weapon in the U.S. Military from WWII through Korea and Vietnam. It's very user-friendly. I hit a dish-size target at 100 meters on my very first shot, which made me understand how easily a soldier could come to love his rifle.

I liked Norm's 1911A-1. It takes a .45 caliber bullet; a single shot in the right place could easily kill a man. I was finding it hard to hold it steady.

Will says I'm leaning back too much and helps adjust my stance. You need to put your left foot out front, he says, face the target more, and form a kind of triangle with your body and your arms, leaning into the shot to balance against the recoil. It's a very aggressive stance.









Will shows how it's done.

Landscape of Time

Check out the marvelous photo gallery of reader Shaun Mazurek. His long-exposure landscapes exude a kind of timeless quality that borders on the Transcendent.

Competing Economic Myths

Fight of the Century: Keynes vs Hayek, Round Two -- a brilliant cinematic hip-hop dramatization by John Papola and Russ Roberts.

Osama bin Dead

Michael Ramirez (click to enlarge)

Art is Revelation

"God is in the details." The quote is commonly attributed to the German architect, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, but it has also been attributed to Gustave Flaubert, to my mind the more likely candidate. Vladimir Nabokov had his own variation: "Caress the detail, the divine detail." And I've always liked the ditty by the obsessive Michelangelo: "Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle."

While God may be in the details, it seems the devil is in there, too. In her entry in the Spectator DIARY, Jenny McCartney is struck by this "appealingly casual" drawing by Watteau (currently on display at the Royal Academy of Art).

"It calls to mind the difference between pornography and eroticism: pornography imposes the uniform of desire upon its faceless subject; eroticism teases out the particular allure of the person already there."

Particulars turn us on. They're keyholes into the mystery, the rousing essence of art.

Libya and the Oracle of Delphi

As the British classicist Peter Jones explains in Ancient and Modern, The Two Libyas, the famous Oracle of Delphi played an instigating role in the initial colonization of north Africa by the Greeks:

"Herodotus tells the story. A deputation from Thera (modern Santorini) had gone to Delphi to consult the oracle on various matters and was told to found a city among the Libyans. By Libyans, Greeks meant the people who inhabited north Africa. But since no attention was paid to this command, Thera suffered a seven-year drought.

"A mission to Delphi to discover the reason was reminded of that command, and, after some help from Crete and many false starts, a settlement was finally founded at Cyrene in 630 BC. Despite some hostility from local Berbers, other Greek towns sprang up — one was Berenice, modern Benghazi (c. 250 BC)—and the whole region became known as Cyrenaica. Cyrene itself was the jewel in its crown, a magnificent city famed for its medical school and philosophers."

Temple of Zeus, Cyrene

Meanwhile, the western area of Libya had been settled centuries earlier by the Phoenicians. Under the Romans it became known as "Punic" Africa, and it grew into a large and flourishing settlement, much as did its later Greek counterpart to the east. The two regions were 1200 miles apart by land, 700 miles by sea, but because of the strong trade winds and notorious dangers of shipping along the coast, they remained largely separate from one another throughout their long history--up until 1911 when the Italians invaded and consolidated both into modern Libya. Cyrenaicans resisted for years, but were finally quashed by Mussolini in 1934.

According to Jones, if the two Libyas once again split into what they had always been prior to il Duce, it would be "a very sensible idea."

I wonder if the Oracle of Delphi would agree?

Jack's Dream

“Wake up!”

Awaken to the rustle of her silk skirts, to the scent of jasmine oil on her wrist, to the clink of her coins in the alms bowl, to the young bride’s whispered prayer.

I sit in the dust of the village road, grinning under closed lids despite my hemorrhoids. The biting flies, the woman’s scent, the hunger pains, the lust—all come and go like night and day: All things must pass away.

“Wake up!”

Awaken to the creak of the wagon wheels, to the odor of the defecating horses, to the wife's farewell to her warrior, to the clatter of the armor and swords.

I sit in the mud beside the village road, grinning under closed lids despite the pouring rain. Though I live in every passerby, there’s nothing I need do. Just sit in silent testament: Peace comes from within.

“Wake up!”

Awaken to the smoke of the funeral pyres, to the futile pleadings of the mourners, to the wail of the grief-stricken widow, to the chant of the senile priest.

I sit in the dark along the village road, grinning under closed lids despite the falling snow. Though demons circle, they pose no threat. Grief cannot devour me; the cold can only bite. I am the Buddha, and I am free. Free from want, free from fear, free from the bondage of birth and death: There is no joy like the joy of freedom.

“Wake up, Jack—you’re safe.”