Our story begins with Mel waking up in the tattoo parlor where she got beaned last week, Jada (previously known as Patchouli Hobo) standing over her. Mel’s like, “What do you want with me?” Jada’s like, “You’re the one who broke in, remember?” Mel recovers from her temporary amnesia and snarks at Jada that the Sarcana should rethink their recruitment methods if they think knocking new members unconscious with a 2×4 is an appropriate initiation tactic.
Maggie, on the other hand, thinks it’s a perfectly appropriate initiation tactic. She says as much when the scene switches over to Mel reporting back to her sisters and Harry. She also warns Mel against letting them do anything like make her eat Oreos until she pukes. Who wrote this? Come on, people, these are FRATERNITY initiation tactics! You could never get away with shit like this under National Panhellenic Conference rules. And let’s be real, all this stuff is the sort of crap guys would think of. Girls are bitchy to each other but they don’t get thrills out of watching each other barf.
Anyway, Harry warns Mel again that the Sarcana are terrorists and that this is an extremely dangerous mission that she should think twice about accepting. They are also pros at mind games—she could be seduced! Mel tells Harry that he’s being hysterical.
Harry: “I beg your pardon, hysteria? Is it quite necessary to use that anti-feminist term?”
(Real Dialogue Alert: That was the real dialogue.)
Suddenly the scene changes and we’re in Bucharest. Wait, Bucharest? Yes, you read that right. After spending the first seven episodes of this show in a tiny town that no one’s ever heard of and never branching beyond its borders, we’ve become globetrotters over the last two: Freyers Township or whatever, and now Bucharest. Wow.
Anyway, there’s this big old cathedral with a skeleton reposing in a glass sarcophagus before the altar. I forgot how weird European churches can be. Connerparkerdemon and his Demon Brother come beaming in through the stained glass and smoking in through the vents and stuff, because just walking through the door isn’t good enough for demon royalty.
They approach the skeleton, St. Dragos. St. Drogo? No, St. Dragos. The saint is all dressed up with a crown and lots of jewelry, including a big pendant with a white stone on it: The Amulet of the Archangels. Demon Brother tells the skeleton that they’ve come to relieve him of his bling (RDA). Connerparkerdemon phases through the glass and removes the pendant, which isn’t clasped or anything, perfect for easy thieving.
An Orthodox priest comes running in just then, waving a stick and screeching “INFERI!!!” The demons prepare to Do Battle. The priest uses his stick to blast them backwards and begins performing a spell to open what appears to be a gateway to Tartarus. So I guess the Moon Stick isn’t the only key! Why Mr. Walton didn’t think of that when he was all pissed off about Jada getting the Moon Stick, I don’t know. Could it be that the writers are coming up with this crap as they go?
“Well I mean PieInTheSky said it was the greatest city in the world”
Demon Brother makes a running leap, jumps over the opening to the gateway and tackles the priest. The priest drops his staff, closing the portal. Demon Brother begins choking the priest to death, and Connerparkerdemon tells him to let the priest go, as they have the amulet now. They argue about CPD’s human side, but finally Demon Brother acquiesces and agrees to let the priest live. CPD actually believes him and just leaves. Demon Brother picks up the priest’s staff and stabs him through the throat with it, then takes the staff for his own.
The scene switches and suddenly it’s Christmas! Snow is gently falling just outside the window, the first flurry we’ve seen so far in MICHIGAN. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it will be the last sign of snow we see in the entire series until next Christmas. There will be no 20-foot snow drifts or lake-effect blizzards in any of the upcoming episodes. What was the reason we decided to have this town be in Michigan and not California, again?
Anyway, as Harry and Mel decorate the tree, Maggie brings them a concoction called ḉóqúít́ố. It’s like eggnog, but MUCH better because it’s ethnic. Harry says if he has to try her culture’s foods, she has to try his, and gives her some of his homemade fruitcake. She gags because White Man Food is gross, unlike eggnog with coconut, which sounds much better.
WHITE MAN FOOD BAD! BROWN WOMAN FOOD GOOD! EVEN WHITE MAN SEE!
Six minutes into the episode, Macy appears out of nowhere to tell us they found the driver who hit Friendzone. Oh yeah! I killed Friendzone by sheer strength of will at the end of the last episode! Except Macy informs us that he luckily escaped with just a broken leg. Goddammi—
Mel and Maggie theorize that since the driver was drunk and had two prior DUIs on his record, maybe the accident was just a coincidence and had nothing to do with the mark that suddenly we know Friendzone’s grandma put on him which was the obvious conclusion but since Harry and Macy jumped to a different one in that episode it became really confusing when everyone just suddenly knew his grandma had done it. Macy decides to call Miss Cleo Mama Roz, whose phone number she suddenly has, and find out more information.
Maggie the Millennial checks her phone and tells the sisters that Ray is on his way. Who? Oh, no one important. Just Mel and Maggie’s father.
???
I guess I just assumed that the identity of their father would be a mystery because wasn’t it in the original show? But no, this guy is just a deadbeat dad. They call him by his first name to show off what a deadbeat they find him to be. Maggie the Gullible Millennial still has hope they can have a good relationship now, 15 years after he abandoned them, though. That’s why she invited him to the Vera-Vera-Vaughn family Christmas! He will definitely come and not stand them up.
Macy comments how odd it is that they call him by his first name, since her own father (you know, who raised her??) was always called ‘Dad.’ Maybe because he raised you?
And while we’re on the subject of your dad, Macy, I have some questions—is he your birth father or were you adopted? If he was your birth father, why do you keep saying your mother “gave you up” instead of just assuming that your dad got sole custody? If he was your birth father, why did he and your mother split up? Did he know she was a witch? Is he the reason for the non-melanin-related “darkness” within you? Well? Speak up—
Never mind that, back to Mel and Maggie’s deadbeat! He left them the day after Maggie’s fifth birthday! He’s the literal worst!
The doorbell rings. It’s Friendzone, fresh from the hospital! Macy doesn’t know whether it’s safe to go near him, so she asks Harry to distract him with ḉóqúít́ố. On his way in the door, Friendzone tries to ambush Macy with mistletoe. This ends with him slipping on a banana peel and falling on his ass, courtesy of the mark. Good times are had by all.
Lest you think I was kidding
Meanwhile, over at the Generic Science Lab, Mrs. Walton (Macy and Friendzone’s boss) is talking to her son, Connerparkerdemon. I had basically suspected that she was Mr. Walton’s wife or ex-wife since she’s a high-up at WalDemon, but this is the first episode where it’s actually confirmed. She’s taken the three samples of Charmed One blood that they’ve collected over the last several episodes and run tests on them, confirming that the Charmed Ones’ powers could indeed be used to create a cure for Connerparkerdemon’s Affliction. The cure would kill his human half, making him pure demon. Connerparkerdemon isn’t convinced that the tradeoff of losing his human side would be worth it, but Mrs. Walton is like, “DAMMIT, YOU’RE MY SON, YOU MUST LIVE!”
She urges Connerparkerdemon to take the Amulet of the Archangels he and his brother procured in Bucharest (how did they get there and home so fast? Is everyone in this show able to apparate except the sisters?) and give it to Maggie. Since she’s the empath, if she wears it long enough, it will drain all three of their powers, because logic. As their powers drain, the stone will turn black; but if she takes it off before their powers have completely drained, their powers will return. Connerparkerdemon’s like waaaah I don’t want to hurt Maggie! Mrs. Walton’s like it won’t hurt her, just take away her magic. Connerparkerdemon’s like ☹
Meanwhile, over at the Walton Lair, Mr. Walton is discussing the current state of affairs with Demon Brother. It turns out the reason Mr. Walton wants a cure for Connerparkerdemon has nothing to do with familial affection—apparently there’s some kind of prophecy that when the apocalypse happens, the Source of All Evil will take a demon born of a human as his vessel. Mr. Walton believes that the prophecy refers to Connerparkerdemon, and if they can get rid of his human side, then the Source will possess him after they free it and Mr. Walton will be able to RULE THE WORLD! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Back at the house, Harry is doing a very excellent job of distracting Friendzone with completely heterosexual dialogue such as, “How do you like the tree? The balls are very well spaced,” and, when Friendzone asks where Macy is, “That little lady is in the kitchen cooking up a storm, so don’t even think about dragging her away from that stove.” (Real Dialogue Alert: I didn’t make any of that up.)
Mel heads off to a pledge meeting for her sorority—my, how the tables have turned! As she heads out the door, Connerparkerdemon strolls in, laden with PRODUCT PLACEMENT!
Because it’s typical to give your Christmas gifts in bags that say GAP on them rather than “Seasons Greetings” or “Ho Ho Ho”
Connerparkerdemon gives Maggie her gift and urges her to open it now. She adequately fawns over the amulet, which he claims he picked up at a vintage boutique, which men are known to shop at, and helps her put it on. He also shows her the gift he got for the mysterious Ray, who’s “in Japan for the year” (is… he a professor too? Maggie said he was driving from Minneapolis earlier?): a chess set inspired by Japanese netsuke carvings. See, shit like this is why I hated this douchebag before we found out he was a demon and he automatically became interesting. Maggie says she doesn’t deserve him because he’s too perfect. Connerparkerdemon’s like ☹
Over at the tattoo parlor, the witch sorority is like, BOOM SHAKA LAKA! And Mel gets a magic tattoo on her wrist, no bloodletting required. As the initiation ceremony is completed, a bunch of crows appear and fly around the room. CROWS, YOU SAY?
Five minutes later, she’s back at the house and telling Harry all about it. The crows + the Lichtenberg figures clearly = Jada killed Dead Hippie Mom. Harry seems convinced. Macy comes bursting out of the kitchen like BITCH WAT U DOIN UR SUPPOSED TO BE DISTRACTING FRIENDZONE AND PLYING HIM WITH ¡ȻỐQỪỈTỢS! Harry’s like calm your tits, Connerparkerdude’s distracting him! Macy peeks in on them chatting and when they do the bro high five-handshake thing that guys do, CPD collapses in pain while Friendzone’s cowrie shell mark glows. Maggie assumes CPD’s just losing his powers again, but having seen the mark, Macy knows otherwise. She rushes outside to give Mama Roz a call, because I guess the house has bad cell reception or something who knows.
Much cold, very snow. Realistic fog from mouth.
Mama Roz tells Macy that if the mark caused CPD to have that reaction, it’s a sign that he’s a magical being with a strong evil energy inside him, most likely a demon. Macy gets off the phone to warn her sisters, but is CLUBBED OVER THE HEAD WITH A SHOVEL! So Mags Visaggio is a writer on this show? Because there’s a lot of blunt force trauma to the head going on here.
The perpetrator, Demon Brother, drags her into the garden shed and ties her to a chair with zip ties. Ah, bondage. He then takes her form and tries to go back into the house. Unfortunately, his demonic energy is so much stronger than CPD’s that Friendzone’s mark just NOPEs and repels him straight out of the house as soon as he set foots in the door.
Mel comes running to see what happened and find “Macy” flat out on the ground. She asks “Macy” what happened, and “Macy” tells her that Mama Roz said that Friendzone’s mark is malfunctioning, which is a thing that makes sense, and that it’s hurting people who are innocent, so they need to take it off him. “Macy” gives Mel a spell that “Mama Roz” “gave” “her” that is supposed to remove the mark. It’s a potion which can be mixed into the ḉóqúít́ố. Mel mixes it up and gives it to Friendzone who’s like, “Oh geez, not more of this shit, please,” as Mel pins him down on the couch and shouts, “DRINK, BITCH.”
(Dialogue Alert: Some of that was real, you get to figure out which for yourselves.)
After Friendzone has imbibed, Mel returns to report to “Macy.” “Macy” says the best way to test out whether it worked or not is to snuggle up to her man and see if she can get a little stocking stuffer tonight. I… think Demon Brother is gay? He keeps over-the-top flirting with other males while in female form, including his BROTHER which was eww. Anyway, Mel is like, “Whoa, Macy, you’re not seriously thinking of losing your virginity tonight, are you?” Guess there was definitely no deflowering on Halloween, then. Demon Brother is like dafuq at this revelation, but plays it off like lol jk and they go into the house.
At first Friendzone was like WTF, but then he went, “You know, it’s been a week since I got any, I won’t look a gift pussy in the mouth.”
In the dining room, Maggie and Connerparkerdemon are admiring the Victorian ice skating figurines that Maggie has set up on the table. Maggie complains that Mel hates it and won’t ever let her put the whole set out, because “All the figurines are super white and conforming to traditional gender roles.” (Real Dialogue Alert: That was the real dialogue.) At those words, Connerparkerdemon begins to die of consumption. I know, CPD, I know.
Maggie frets over him and asks if he brought his meds. CPD tells her that he’s supposed to be starting a new regimen, one that could cure him, but he’s worried about the side effects: they may make him feel like a different person. Maggie says that anything personality-altering sounds like bad news and maybe he shouldn’t take it. CPD says he doesn’t want to but his family is pushing it on him. Maggie says it’s just because they love him and want to save him. CPD laments that none of them care what he wants. Maggie says she’ll always listen to him. They undress one another with their eyes as the amulet turns from white to black.
Mel sees the amulet change and her eyes bug out. Still suspicious of CPD after the incident with Friendzone’s mark earlier, she drags Maggie upstairs and asks her what the meaning of this necklace is. Maggie suggests that maybe it’s a moodstone. It sure is gaudy enough to be one. Maggie gets mad that Mel is implying CPD is a demon, because the additional implication is that Maggie is so stupid that she’s been reading his thoughts for months and hasn’t noticed yet.
Well… hon…
Just then, her phone dings—a text from their dad telling them “lol just kidding I’m not coming.” He said he was on his way and then he lol jk’ed? Maggie runs away yelling at Mel that she’s always right. Connerparkerdemon runs after her to console her. They embrace in her room as she confesses that Mel always treats her like she’s stupid and naïve. She asks him about the necklace and he reiterates that he got it at a vintage shop and that it probably is a mood necklace. He promises to never hurt her, and while they mack, he unhooks the necklace and slips it into his pocket. As soon as he takes it off her, the stone turns white again. Mel, watching from the doorway like a peeping tom, sees the stone change, which makes her Even More Suspicious.
“You are my queen, now and always.”
She runs to go tell “Macy,” who, being in actuality Demon Brother, now knows that CPD betrayed them by taking the necklace off. Meanwhile, in the garden shed, real Macy has regained consciousness and is trying to get the gag out of her mouth with her telekinesis. As Mel and Harry formulate a plan with “Macy,” the real Macy succeeds in removing her gag and calls Harry. Harry goes, “Macy, I hear you calling me, but you’re right here?” Demon Brother realizes the jig is up and attacks Harry. He hurls him through the attic window—that’s the second time that window’s had someone hurled through it—and pursues him down to the garden.
Macy calls Harry again, and he apparates away from Demon Brother and into the shed to free the real Macy. Mel and Maggie, meanwhile, run into the garden and find “Harry” there. Now begins the hijinks of “who’s the real So-and-So?!” as Demon Brother shapeshifts from person to person. These shenanigans are brought to an end when Connerparkerdemon runs out, sees what’s going on, and charges his brother. They get into an “epic” fight (bearing in mind this show’s budget), with the two of them shifting back and forth into their shadow and smoke forms.
Demon Brother temporarily stuns CPD and barrels toward Mel. Mel tries to freeze him but has just about as much luck as she did when she tried it before. Just then, the magical tattoo she got from the witch sorority starts glowing, and a murder of crows swarm in and attack Demon Brother, driving him away. Mel realizes that the crows came to protect her, and wonders if the crows that were in the house the night their mom died weren’t the accomplices of the murderer, but rather had come to protect her, too.
Anyway, Demon Brother is gone and now everyone knows that Connerparkerdemon is the shadow demon who stole the Moon Stick from them a few episodes ago. He says he can explain, and then kidnaps Maggie so he can explain, because that’s how we do things on this show. If someone needs to do some ’splainin, they kidnap the person who needs the ’splainin to. He takes her to some snowy gazebo where he tells her The Whole Story. Maggie is like “zomg you lied to me! I’m just as naïve as Mel said I was! I never want to speak to you again!” and runs back to the house.
Such effects on this show
Maggie pouts a little bit to her sisters and Harry about CPD’s betrayal, but they don’t get much time to recoup before Demon Brother is BACK. He comes down the chimney in his smoke form like Santa Claus, Merry Christmas Ho Ho Ho. He’s like u bitchez gon die bc u cut mah pretty face (No, really) (Gay), but is stopped in his tracks when Connerparkerdemon materializes with the Orthodox priest’s staff in his hand. He uses the staff to open the portal to Tartarus. Or, at least, that’s what he TRIES to do, but he starts coughing his damn brains out in the middle of the spell.
The three sisters run to support CPD and perform the spell for him. The portal to Tartarus opens, sucking Demon Brother in… and sucking the staff and Harry in, too! Harry dangles on the precipice for a single instant before murmuring, “Fly, you fools,” and disappearing into the fiery bowels, the floor sealing closed after him.
As the girls stand there staring aghast at the floor where once there was a hole where once there was Harry, Friendzone awkwardly clears his throat behind them. Whoops, forgot about him, didn’t you? He’s apparently been sitting there the whole time and no one noticed. Essentially his role on this entire show.
“What the hell?” he asks.
What the hell indeed, Friendzone!
Fin.
Overall thoughts: Damn, I was hoping Friendzone would be leaving the show soon, not becoming more important!
The Torah reading this week is from the jawbreakingly named “Behaalotecha,” which basically means, “Roll up for the Mystery Tour.” And talk about weird and scattered.
We start with Aaron getting orders from Yahweh to light the tabernacle’s candelabra every day. But not just any old candelabra- Yahweh is a god of taste, refinement, and distinction. THAT candelabra has to be made of hammered gold, presumably by a hammered goldsmith. But Yahweh is never simple, and the instructions start getting more and more ornate. The next thing that has to be done is getting the Levites assembled. But before they can assemble, they have to ritually bathe and shave themselves. Not just their beards, we’re talking full Brazilian. Dingleberries are common in the desert, but they are not kosher fruit. Once cleaned, shaved, and assembled, all the other Jews have to surround them and do the Wave. I am not bullshitting, this is the stuff that Yahweh thrives on, much like Moses and macaroni pictures. Afterwards, the Levites are supposed to lay hands on a couple of calves, and in the inverse of the Christian ritual of healing via laying on of hands, the calves are killed.
Nothing is simple with Yahweh.
Now this seems like a lot of work for Aaron, but the whole point is that the Levites now have to pitch in and do this work as well, interspersed with bathing and shaving and getting the Wave. It’s no fun being a Levite.
In the manner of a book written by an Aspie, suddenly we’ve changed the subject, and now we’re talking about Pesach. See, there’s weird taboos about touching dead bodies, and a bunch of guys who touched dead bodies (I think they were people with legitimate functions, not corpse-fuckers) pointed out that because they were ritually unclean and had to sit outside the city for 7 days, they missed all the Pesach fun. They said to Moses, “This sucks! Here we are doing our jobs, following the rules, and what happens? We get punished for it! We want the goddamn 4 cups of wine and matzo brei!” Moses, being the corporate lackey that he was, nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s a good point. Let me kick this one upstairs and see what the Boss says.” Moses got past the secretary and managed to ask the Boss, “OK, these guys are doing what we’re telling them to do, how do we deal with this?” Yahweh, who despite other flaws was a reasonably competent HR manager, thought about it and responded, “Good point, I guess we hadn’t thought that one through. Tell ya what, if someone misses out on the Pesach fun because they touched a body or they were on a long trip and couldn’t get back in time, we can have a Make-Up Pesach. We’ll make it, I dunno, maybe a month later. yeah, that’s the ticket. But let me be clear- this is for corpse-touchers and frequent flyers only. If you missed the fun because you were procrastinating, fuck you.”
SCREEEECH! We change the subject again, now to tents, clouds, and trumpets. Not just any trumpets, hammered silver trumpets, presumably made by a hammered silversmith. This is all the shit involved in telling the Jews when to stay and when to get moving, using hammered silver trumpets as the signal. I mean, 40 years wandering around, that’s going to take some direction, and the bugle hadn’t been invented yet. Of course, bugles are brass anyway, and that’s kind of insulting to Yahweh. In any case, after a year in the same spot, the Jews all started moving again.
SCREEEEECH! Just as you were getting comfortable… Jews start whining and complaining. First, they whined at Yahweh. “Manna for breakfast, manna for lunch, manna for dinner, we’re getting damn sick of this. And all the walking! Isn’t there a nice chair somewhere and maybe some meat? Kreplach would be nice, but a brisket would do.” That pissed Yahweh off a bit, and he returned the favor by raining down fire. So the whining got redirected to Moses, who was lacking in the raining-down-fire department. There were six hundred thousand whiners involved in this, which was a bit much for Moses to handle alone. So he did what any good middle manager would do and complained to HIS boss. “These people are driving me fucking nuts. I can’t get anything done because I’m busy listening to one whiner after another.” Yahweh nodded and said, “OK, I’ll authorize a headcount increase. Hire seventy people for the Complaint Department. And by the way, I have a little trick up my sleeve…” Remember the famous Mencken quote about the definition of democracy? Well, it wasn’t original with him, Yahweh got there first. And channeling a speech from the future (omniscients can be ruthless plagiarizers), Yahweh said, “We’re going to get meat. We’re going to get so much meat. We’re going to get so much meat, you’re going to be so sick and tired of meat, you’re going to come to me and go ‘Please, please, we can’t eat any more meat.’ You’ve heard this one. You’ll say ‘Please, Yahweh, we beg you sir, we don’t want to get any more meat. It’s too much. It’s not fair to everybody else.’ And I’m going to say ‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to keep getting meat, getting meat, getting meat, we’re going to make the Children of Israel great again.’”
And to prove his point, Yahweh inundated the Jews with quail. They set upon it like a freshly-baked stoner on a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Poultry, this is more like it!” As always, though, Yahweh was a consummate asshole and managed to infect all the quail with the Plague. “HAR HAR HAR, THE JOKE IS ON YOU, WHINY HEBES!”
SCREEEEEECH! Just when you think there’s a theme developing, we suddenly change directions again. Moses’s sister, Miriam, and his brother, Aaron, started their own complaints. “That fucking brother of ours married a shiksa, but he still gets all the glory while we get bupkis.” Do NOT dis Yahweh’s favorite middle manager because that’s gonna piss Yahweh off royally. And it did. So Miriam get hit with leprosy. This freaked out Moses, who said to Yahweh, “Look, she’s a meddlesome Jewess, but she IS my sister. Can you let up a bit before her hands fall off or something? And since you left Aaron alone, we might be open to a sex discrimination suit. Satan does have all the lawyers, after all…” In the interests of worker morale and staying out of court, Yahweh said, “Look, she has to be taught a lesson. How about she just has leprosy for a week?” Moses thought about that, and said, “Yeah, I guess a suspension is better than termination.” So Miriam had to stand outside the city for a week until it went away, and she managed to save most of her hands and feet. Aaron still skated. For now.
Mentoring consists of a long-term relationship focused on supporting the growth and development of the mentee. The mentor becomes a source of wisdom, teaching, and support, but not someone who observes and advises on specific actions or behavioral changes in daily work/life.
Someone in my real (read: non-Glib) life, recently commented that I am their mentor in a specific area of my professional endeavors. I was surprised by this, as I certainly hadn’t thought of myself or our relationship that way. Sure, I offer excellent advice when asked, and am a truly great listener (I get it from my mother), but it had never occurred to me that this person held that view.
So. Do you have/have you had a non-family mentor in any area of your life? Was it an acknowledged mentoring relationship? Did it start out that way or did it evolve?
Have you been a mentor? What was the experience like for you?
Howdy, Glibs. I hope the fathers among you were properly respected by your spawn yesterday, and that no new discoveries of extant children were in the offering. Its the dog days of summer here, and I wish I were anywhere but at this computer.
Here’s some really cool-looking Soviet-era tech that I would not be brave enough to ride in.
OMWC shared the opinion from Gamble v. US which is rage-inducing, except for Justice Gorsuch’s stellar dissent. An excerpt:
Viewed from the perspective of an ordinary reader of the Fifth Amendment, whether at the time of its adoption or in our own time, none of this can come as a surprise. Imagine trying to explain the Court’s separate sovereigns rule to a criminal defendant, then or now. Yes, you were sentenced to state prison for being a felon in possession of a firearm. And don’t worry—the State can’t prosecute you again. But a federal prosecutor can send you to prison again for exactly the same thing. What’s more, that federal prosecutor may work hand-in-hand with the same state prosecutor who already went after you. They can share evidence and discuss what worked and what didn’t the first time around. And the federal prosecutor can pursue you even if you were acquitted in the state case. None of that offends the Constitution’s plain words protecting a person from being placed “twice . . . in jeopardy of life or limb” for “the same offence.” Really?
Manic Neo-Nazi Dreamgirl pilloried for cashing in on queer bandwagon. Oh wait, it wasn’t her white supremacist fans who are doing the hating…
Best of Taylor Swift hailed as Aryan goddess by neo Nazis
Oh shit, Lenny got shot by an off-duty cop. George is gonna be sad he didn’t get to send him to the farm with the rabbits.
Going old-school today, but not older-than-me school
Consider this something of an epilogue to my History of Bolt Guns series.
The shooting sports is a place where one man can have a big influence. In the post-World War II sporting rifle market, few people can claim to have had as big an influence as Roy Weatherby. His iconic guns and cartridges weren’t to everyone’s tastes, but they made a big mark on the American sporting gun scene.
The Man
Roy Weatherby.
Born in Kansas in 1910, 1945 found the young Roy Weatherby in Huntingon Beach, California, fortunately before that state became a garbage- and feces-covered shithole. He and his wife Camilla had a house there, and Roy had a business – a 25×70 foot closet that bore the name “Weatherby’s Sporting Goods.”
Weatherby was an incorrigible tinkerer. It is not known if the late Charles Newton had any influence on the young Weatherby, but it would not be surprising if that was the case, because Weatherby’s first efforts were directed at the development of high-velocity centerfire rifle cartridges. In 1945, the velocity race that Newton had started was about to shift into high gear; Roy Weatherby was positioned to take a commanding lead in that race.
The Plan
In 1945, many gun writers like Elmer Keith were proponents of large-bore rifles firing heavy bullets at moderate velocities. The .30-06 was already something of a standard in the game fields of North America. A few people used the .300H&H, a real powerhouse for the time, and the .35 Whelen, using the .30-06 case necked up to .35 caliber, was a popular wildcat.
Around 1945, Roy Weatherby’s tinkering produced his first proprietary cartridge, the .220 Weatherby Rocket. This was something of an “improved” .220 Swift, based on that case but blown out some to increase powder capacity. Until this point the .220 Swift had been the velocity champion in bolt-action (and indeed, any) rifles, firing a 40-grain .22 slug at over 4,000 fps. The Weatherby round improved on this some, managing to drive a 50-grain slug at the speeds achieved in the Swift with a bullet 20% lighter; but the Rocket wasn’t to be the pattern Weatherby would follow.
The Cartridges
In that same year of 1945, Weatherby was looking to introduce his high-velocity ideas into the world of big game cartridges. He hit upon the big belted .300 and .375 H&H cases as the idea starting point, as they had considerably greater powder capacity than the .30-06 family of cases. To improve gas flow in the cartridge, he came up with a double-radius shoulder, something new that made forming the cases a little more complicated and therefore a little more expensive; but Weatherby rounds and rifles were never budget items.
Weatherby saw the advantages of celebrity endorsements.
In 1944 and 1945, Weatherby introduced three new cartridges:
The .257 Weatherby Magnum was based on the .375 H&H cartridge shortened to 2.5 inches, blown out with the double-radius shoulder and necked down. This round, rumored to have been Roy Weatherby’s personal favorite, can launch a 115-grain bullet at 3,400 fps. That, folks, is smoking, even by today’s standards.
The .270 Weatherby Magnum drove a 130-grain bullet at 3,300 fps, about 400 fps than the standard .270 Winchester load favored by Jack O’Connor. This round was, again, based on the .375H&H case shortened and necked down.
The .300 Weatherby Magnum is the most popular of Weatherby’s proprietary cartridges. The big .300, until recently the most powerful .30 caliber commercial rifle cartridge made, was based on a blown-out .300 H&H case and launched a 180-grain pill at over 3,200 fps.
Weatherby was looking for velocity, and his new cartridges gave shooters that, in spades. In marketing his cartridges and later, his rifles, Weatherby maintained that high-velocity cartridges gave more killing power than lower-velocity rounds firing bigger, heavier slugs. In this he ran afoul of some of the older-school gun scribes like Elmer Keith, but Weatherby stuck to his guns, and gradually his cartridges gained a following. Quite a few notable people endorsed Weatherby’s rifles, John Wayne among them; the resulting publicity sold more rifles and funded development of more high-velocity rounds.
In 1947 Weatherby came out with two more cartridges, again based on the H&H case:
The 7mm Weatherby Magnum was next; the big 7mm on the same case as the .300 Weatherby launched a 140-grain 7mm slug at 3,200 fps and would heft even the big 175 grain A-Frame slugs at over 3,000.
In that same year Weatherby broke into the heavy rifle market, blowing out the .375 H&H case with the double-radius shoulder and naming this the .375 Weatherby Magnum. In this round Weatherby actually missed the mark a bit; while the new heavy round would loft a 270-grain projectile at 2,800 fps, pretty respectable for a rifle intended for African plains game, its performance wasn’t enough greater than the time-tested .375 H&H to gain a lot of traction. The Weatherby did have the advantage of being able to fire .375 H&H rounds in the rifle, thus fire-forming the case to Weatherby’s specs for use thereafter, making it in essence a “.375H&H Improved,” but this wasn’t to prove popular; that may well have led Roy Weatherby to his next step.
Southgate Weatherby.
In 1955 Weatherby scaled up, with two new cartridges based on a new, larger case of Weatherby’s design. As the basis of his new rounds, Weatherby basically took the .416 Rigby case, added a belt, and introduced two versions: The .378 Weatherby Magnum and the .460 Weatherby Magnum. The latter round was, at the time of its introduction, the most powerful commercial rifle cartridge in production. Now, at last, Weatherby caught the attention of the safari market. Within a few years, the big .460 was as popular among African safari guides and professional hunters as the old reliable .458 Winchester.
One other well-known dangerous game cartridge resulted from this, but it wasn’t a Weatherby product; in 1976 Colonel Arthur Alphin necked up the .460 case to produce his .500 A-Square.
1963 Saw the introduction of the .340 Weatherby Magnum, introduced as a response to Winchester’s .338 Magnum. This new round left the .338 Winchester Magnum in the dust, firing a 225-grain slug at over 3,000 fps. With my own .338, I’ve never broken 2,800 with a bullet of that weight, and I’m not shy about pushing my loads up to the line.
In 1964, Weatherby introduced the only .22 caliber belted magnum at that time, the .224 Weatherby Magnum. This foray into small bores finally displaced the .220 Swift as the velocity champion of the .22 calibers. And finally, in 1968, Weatherby’s last magnum, the .240 Weatherby Magnum, set new speed records for commercial 6mm cartridges.
Still, cartridges are of little use without a rifle, and Weatherby’s rifles were as distinctive as his cartridges.
The Guns
To be honest, I was never a fan of Weatherby’s style in bolt rifles. The appearance of his first rifles was very distinctive. Weatherby used beautiful wood and fine, high-polished bluing, but the stocks feathered a high Monte Carlo and a big cheekpiece, contrasting rosewood fore-end and pistol grip caps with white spacers, and white spacers on the butt pad. Many people liked them, based on how they sold, but even back in the Seventies when I was coming up, I always found them a little garish.
But you can’t argue with success. Shiny Weatherby rifles may have been, and on the expensive side to boot, but the combination of solid bolt actions and powerful, high-velocity cartridges was a seller.
Weatherby’s first rifles, the so-called “Southgate” rifles after Roy’s big new store in Southgate, California, were built on FN ’98 Mauser actions. Most of the Southgate rifles were built for Weatherby calibers, but old Roy would turn out a fine rifle in a standard caliber as a custom item if a customer asked for one. In 1956, Weatherby contracted with Schultz & Larsen to build rifles for the big new .378 and .460 Magnums on their beefy Model 54 bolt action, but that situation only lasted a couple of years, as Roy Weatherby’s crowning achievement was in the works.
The Mark V.
In 1958, Roy Weatherby’s ideal rifle finally took form with the introduction of the Mark V. This was something unlike the Mauser 98 and Schultz & Larsen actions of previous Weatherby rifles; the Mark V had nine small locking lugs at the front of the big, hefty bolt. When carefully fitted, as was generally the case with Weatherby rifles, this made for a very strong action. The first Mark V actions were made by Pacific Founders, Inc and assembled at South Gate, but demand quickly outstripped Pacific’s capacity, so Weatherby moved production to Sauer, who was similarity unable to keep up, and then to Howa in Japan.
Mark V production muddled along unchanged from 1958 to 1963, the only notable difference being the relocation of the safety from the receiver to the bolt shroud when the manufacture moved from Pacific to Sauer. But in 1964, Weatherby determined the need for a scaled down version to go with the new .224 Weatherby Magnum, and so the six-lug “Varmintmaster” was born. The six-lug Varmintmaster was later offered in .22-250, the first production Weatherby in a non-Weatherby commercial caliber (the company would build a Mark V custom in almost any caliber) and later the full-size Mark V was offered in the immortal .30-06.
Some years later Weatherby would begin offering the Mark V in a variety of non-Weatherby calibers, but only in the six-lug versions. This has added some collector’s value to the few nine-lug .30-06s out there. If you have one, let me know; I’d happily give you a couple hundred bucks for it.
This new Weatherby had some significant things going for it. The nine locking lugs were placed on a reduced bolt head, meaning there was no necessity for locking lug races in the action; this made the action very smooth in operation. As the action was designed for high-pressure, high-velocity rounds, the bolt body had three holes to vent hot gases in the event of a case failure, and the oversize bolt shroud likewise shielded the shooter’s face from hot gas in such an event. The later bolt-mounted safety was robust, locking the firing pin in place – although I maintain to this day that the only safety that one should rely on is the one between your ears.
The Mark V was a fine rifle if a bit showy, but it was also expensive. So, in 1970, Weatherby made a deal with Howa to produce a rifle with the traditional Weatherby style using Howa’s Model 1500 action, chambered in standard, non-Weatherby calibers. This became the Weatherby Vanguard, and with this rifle Weatherby took aim (hah) at the market held firmly by the Remington 700 and Winchester Model 70 rifles.
Weatherby didn’t neglect the rimfire market, either. In 1964, Weatherby released the semi-auto Mark XXII, a slick, pretty rifle firing from a 10-round detachable magazine. My oldest friend Dave had one for some time and enjoyed it, but it was an expensive proposition for killing squirrels, so he eventually traded it off; but I remember it as a real tack-driver.
Current Mark V barreled actions are built by ATEK of Brainerd, Minnesota, while the Vanguard continues to be manufactured by Howa in Japan. The semi-auto Mk XXII, sadly, has gone out of production as of 1989, although currently Weatherby offers an Anschutz .22 bolt gun bearing the “Weatherby Mk XXII” label.
The Legacy
The Orion over/under shotgun.
Roy Weatherby died in 1988 at age 77, having changed the American sporting rifle world forever. Five years earlier he had passed leadership of Weatherby, Inc. to his son Ed Weatherby, who still runs the company today. Last year the company announced it was finally leaving southern California for the more gun-friendly environs of Sheridan, Wyoming. A portion of the Weatherby estate went to fund the Weatherby Foundation International, a non-profit organization dedicated to educating the non-hunting public of the benefits of ethical, scientifically managed sport hunting.
Most of Weatherby’s current rifles – and shotguns – are a tad more subdued, most of the current production bearing synthetic stocks. These have many advantages on a hunting rifle, and indeed my hunting rifles tend to wear synthetic stocks, but I’m still pleased that Weatherby does continue to offer the Mark V and the Howa-actioned Vanguard, as well as the Orion shotguns, with fine walnut furniture as well. The same applies for Weatherby’s current scattergun offerings, which include the very fine Orion over/under and the 181, Element and SA-08 semi-autos.
And the Weatherby Magnum line of cartridges has been expanded by two, the 6.5-300 Weatherby Magnum and the .30-378 Weatherby Magnum.
The pairing of a Weatherby rifle and an appropriate Weatherby cartridge will still serve as a fine rifle for the game fields anywhere on the planet. John Browning or Sam Colt he wasn’t, but he broke some new ground in sporting rifles and founded a company that persists today. That’s not a bad legacy; not bad at all. And not too shabby for a guy who started building rifles in his garage.
I don’t care if it is this, just get me some relief!
Seven @#$% weeks of pain, discomfort and it takes a week at a time to see a doc (sorry Rufus). But tonight I start PT and get a home traction unit for my base betrayer cervical discs (up yours C6 and C7!). So I am a bit grouchy this morning. The links will hopefully NOT reflect this. It is not your fault I am in this condition. If it was, we at Glibs would have passed along your address to STEVE SMITH for a little visit. That is one Welcome Wagon you do not want pulling up in your driveway…
Anyways, here are your links for the morning:
It is like Washington State authorities have never heard of SEA SMITH. But if these folks want SuperUltraMega composting on their property, voluntarily….good on them.
The Hat and The Hair – Expanded Universe, has a chance to take the UK! Pleasepleaseplease let this happen. Can you imagine the summit between him and our Hat and Hair? SugarFree would almost have too much material to work with.
Sorry NYC Glibs. Looks like you might see the ol’ taxes and fees go up a wee bit, if this happens.
Looks like you don’t have to die on Mount Everest to be a Himalayas casualty.
As is often the case, I leave the musical selections to you, the Glibertariat.
SEA SMITH SUB FOR CHEESE PERSON. HE HAVE FATHER’S DAY RELAX. SEA SMITH NO ACKNOWLEDGE PATERNITY ANYONE THING, SO HE FILL IN. SEA SMITH USED TO FILLING IN! HAHAHAHA! SEA SMITH STILL FUNNY.
SEA SMITH NOW GIVE PREVIEW OF WEEK. THAT HE KNOW ABOUT. HERE:
MONDAY – ANIMAL TALK ABOUT ADVENTURE HOOMAN NAME WEATHERBY. THE MIGHTY ONE (SP) HAS POLL FOR FUNNY GLIBERTARIAN LAND HOOMANS.
TUESDAY – HOPE (((COLUMN))) NOT SO SAD AS LAST ONE. ONLY OMWC KNOW. WE WILL SEE. LATER WE SEE WOKE CHARMED. IT HARD READ ABOUT DERP ON SCREEN GLAD MLW DO IT.
WEDNESDAY – SEA SMITH THINK SUGARFREE HAVE A SAD AND SPECIAL HAT HAIR FOR US. TONIO CONTINUE MESS WITH BRAINS LATER ON. SEA SMITH NEED STOP SHIP WITH MUCH ADVIL ON IT. BY STOP, MEAN RAPE.
THURSDAY – TULIP REVIEW TALK ABOUT ENTERTAINMENT HOOMAN “BILLY IDOL”. NOT SURE WHAT NIGHT BRING. SO READ TULIP TWO TIMES.
FRIDAY – RC DEAN TEACH LAND HOOMANS “KETO COCKTAILS”. SEA SMITH DRINK RUM, LASH SAILORS AND…WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT NEXT! HAHAHAHA! BY NEXT, MEAN RAPE. SEA SMITH THINK IT COUSIN STEVE SMITH TURN FOR LINKS.
WEEKEND FUNNY WITH OMWC, SPUDALICIOUS, NOT ADHAN, MEXICAN SHARPSHOOTER. CHEESE PERSON PROBABLY BACK DO PREVIEW.
