Folks have been having weird dreams of late. And the other night I was of no exception.
I wouldn't normally share but this one had extra gun content.
My father, who isn't into guns, decided to get his first major caliber pistol anyway for some reason. His choice? A 1911. A 1911 race gun. Long slide, extra compensator sticking out, ginormous magwell, and extra lever and doohickeys coming off it that I had never seen before and had no idea what they were for.
This was ruined by the fact that my brother had borrowed my Sig P229 and decided to improve it. The good part was he found leather grips for it. Interesting. The bad part is he, not being very mechanically inclined, went to town on it with a dremel tool to 'make it shoot better.' It never worked again. Failure to Feed every time.
To top it all off, Breda accidentally posted a post with my full name and address and when I am at work (I have no idea how she learned my work schedule.) She took it down when she realized it, but the info was out there. I hope the burglars take that ruined Sig so I don't have to worry about fixing it.
Part of the same dream was I had failed to post for 2 weeks. Just radio silence. Not even Morse code. What did I eat to cause such illusory nocturnal consternation?
Out like a lamb, my ass... - Oh, hey, those are tornado sirens! — Tamara K. (@TamSlick) May 2, 2016
1 minute ago