... and another 'up to 2 feet' is coming this afternoon. Plus sleet. Plus 40mph winds. So I might have 2 inches or it might drift up to 7 feet at my door.
Took the vet to the grocery store yesterday. I forgot to get a half pint of cream for myself. I have a hankering for proper mashed taters. Ah well.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Snow and Rock Salt
Well, you were right. Using rock salt 12 gauge was NOT the way to go. If your goal was to clear snow, at least. If your goal was to scare the hell out of your neighbors, well then it worked a treat. Good thing the snow kept patrol cars away or I'd be blogging from gaol. Today is Tuesday, I'm finally dug out, and the cops ain't sniffing around so I guess I am home free.
This is the worst winter I remember. And was here for those storms in the late 70s, early 80s. I blame Jimmy Carter, still for those storms. Everything Carter touches is corrupted. He's like walking botulism. History's Greatest Monster, indeed.
And this is Washington where whenever there is a big snow people talk about the Knickerbocker Theater. As though there is anyone around to remember it, but everyone remember older relatives handing the story down. It becomes particularly important a story when building start collapsing...
During the interminable digging out process I saw a downy headed woodpecker, and a hawk flew right over head. I could have hit it with a snowball. I didn't want to, as that raptor had enough on his plate, dealing with a murder of crows that were harassing it.
Day two, Sunday, I went to check on my crotchety old WWII veteran neighbor. Just as I got to his house ANOTHER neighbor was getting there with a snow blower. It seems the old bastard had given this OTHER neighbor some tomatoes from his garden last summer. Favor remembered, favor returned. And it saved my back digging him and his car out. Not that he can go anywhere.
I only fell on my ass that one time.
This is the worst winter I remember. And was here for those storms in the late 70s, early 80s. I blame Jimmy Carter, still for those storms. Everything Carter touches is corrupted. He's like walking botulism. History's Greatest Monster, indeed.
And this is Washington where whenever there is a big snow people talk about the Knickerbocker Theater. As though there is anyone around to remember it, but everyone remember older relatives handing the story down. It becomes particularly important a story when building start collapsing...
During the interminable digging out process I saw a downy headed woodpecker, and a hawk flew right over head. I could have hit it with a snowball. I didn't want to, as that raptor had enough on his plate, dealing with a murder of crows that were harassing it.
Day two, Sunday, I went to check on my crotchety old WWII veteran neighbor. Just as I got to his house ANOTHER neighbor was getting there with a snow blower. It seems the old bastard had given this OTHER neighbor some tomatoes from his garden last summer. Favor remembered, favor returned. And it saved my back digging him and his car out. Not that he can go anywhere.
I only fell on my ass that one time.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Monroe County Indiana
1896-1935. The Coroner's report.
Careful, this link is in PDF format.
An absolutely fascinating historical document.
We can, perhaps, assume it is a nigh complete record of deaths in a single county of Indiana, including Bloomington, covering 39 years.
Lots of preventable deaths, naturally. Quite a few of childhood diseases we have a handle on today. Infants accidentally suffocated is common. One kid died from a hemorrhage after a circumcision. The details involving fatal car accidents seem also quite preventable. There is a whole lot of stupidity going on in the beginning of the 20th Century. And stupidity kills.
Very few septicemia kills. Infection from a wound. In the days before antibiotics I expected more. One infection from a botched illegal abortion. Quite a few pneumonia deaths, and I imagine antibiotics might have been of use there.
Each entry tries to describe cause of death, sometime other pertinent facts that turned up in an investigation surround the death, a brief description of the decease, height, weight, name, and age. There is a note as to anything of value with the dead person, and who might be in possession of those items at that time. If someone was murdered they often mention who dood it, by name.
Here is a sample, let's see if the format translates, for those that don't bother to check the link:
11/21/1930 ~~ DINSMORE, Wylie Henderson ~~ 56 ~~ 5'8"/150# ~~
Mr. Dinsmore was last seen walking east on State Road 46 approx 1/2 mile west of his farmhouse, following a corn shredder which was being moved by a tractor driven by Mr. Sam Binkley. It was fast becoming dark, there was no light on the rear of the shredder, and a Ford driven by Mr. M. W. Hatfield overtook the shredder and collided with it. Mr. Dinsmore was crushed between the two, suffering a fractured skull and both legs, also numerous flesh wounds.~~//~~Usual working man's clothing, one gold watch, very badly damaged.
Lots of suicide back then, too. For some reason, folks were depressed, as if there was some Great Depression of some sort bearing down on them. People seemed to have a propensity to off themselves by ingesting carbolic acid, a common disinfectant. It'd be like killing yourself drinking Lysol today. You were much more likely, back then, statistically to die by your own hand than at the hands of a murderer, using any means, either way. (A few were gutsy enough to slit their own throat, many self-hangings, and the various other famous poisons, arsenic, strychnine, that sort of thing.)
Working at Johnson's Quarry seemed pretty hazardous, too. A good place to be if you wanted to leave this world by making a big squishing sound.
And there is a surprising amount of detail regarding gun content. Particularly around suicides. Search the report for the terms "suicide", "murder", "homicide", "shot", "bullet", "calibre".
There was 28 suicides by firearm, 21 homicides by firearm (4 of those declared justifiable in conclusions in the report)
To break it down for you, several/many .32s, .38s, and one .22 and two .41 revolver (justifiable shootings by police are included, and a cop had that .41, as well as an I.S. contractor. Though how that contractor got off, I have no idea. The bullet's entry was in the scapula are and traveled up to the front of the throat/neck. In other words he shot him in the back. Now I know there are scenarios where a back shot can be justifiable, but... At least the dead 'bad guy' was armed.) One Remington .22 auto rifle, one 'Luger .22 automatic revolver w/ steel jacketed bullets' (?!?!?!?!), some 12 gauge action, and a few unspecified calibers/models. One .35 caliber and a .25 mentioned once each. A .24 caliber. A .32 caliber rifle is mentioned in a suicide. A sweet 16 shotgun is in the list, too.
Death by caliber:
.22 = 5
.25 = 1
.32 = 17
.35 = 1
.38 = 16 and (One .38 pistol was mentioned but not used to cause death, it was just in the deceased's personal effects.)
.41 = 2
.44 One mentioned among personal effects
.45 = 2
20g = 1
16 = 1
12 = 10 and there were many other unspecified bores of shotgun wounds.
It goes to show, that whatever you say about a .32 or smaller, it is certainly effective enough, at times. And the most common way to kill yourself with a firearm in that part of Indiana is with a 12 gauge. You were much more likely, back then, statistically to shuffle off the mortal coil by your own hand than at the hands of a murderer, using any means. (A few were gutsy enough to slit their own throat, many self-hangings, and the various famous poisons, arsenic, strychnine, that sort of thing. )
Noticeably infrequent, death by .45s. Just two I see. I guess you had to go out to cowboy areas to get plugged with a big gun. Bloomington is a bit 'back east' for the time period, yes? There is death by a .32 auto, but no mention of a a Colt 1911 style that I can see. There is a mention of a single .44 Colt revolver, but the revolver wasn't the cause of death. That was a blow to the head. Doesn't say if it was a pistol whipping or not, but a .44 could make a good head thumper.
One gun accident I saw. A 5 year old child killed his mother. Another accident with a clip removed from a 32, but there seemed to be one in the chamber. He killed his 8 year old brother that way.
A fellow died by hunting accident, poking the butt of his shotgun into a rabbit hole while holding onto the barrel. Maybe the rabbit reached for the trigger. A few other hunting accidents. A boy shot his 42 year old father that way.
Lots of questions (for me) surround one police shooting. The criminal copped to the crime before expirng (how convenient), and there is an ugly racial incident in 1934. And a 1904 incident where an African American defended his home (well tent, actually) and was cleared of any wrong doing. No mention of the dead assailant's race.
A Davis and Johnson (?!) .38 revolver is mentioned specifically, an Ivy(?!) Johnson .32 (both 'Johnsons' were probably Iver Johnson pistols. Which makes you wonder how extremely precise and accurate a coroner's report is. I'd trust diagnosis of Enterocalitis over a proper identification of gun model, or even caliber. We'll continue to go with the assumption the coroner does a halfway decent job.), a S&W, Colt, as is the Remington .22 rifle mentioned earlier, as well as the dubiously identified Luger. And they spelled caliber 'calibre' back then, mostly.
Looks like, if you were a gunnie in Bloomington back then, you had a .32 or a .38. Sort of the 9mm vs. .45 argument of 100 years ago? Naw, I'm projecting back from circumstances in my own time. Poor journeyman historical work by me there.
Careful, this link is in PDF format.
An absolutely fascinating historical document.
We can, perhaps, assume it is a nigh complete record of deaths in a single county of Indiana, including Bloomington, covering 39 years.
Lots of preventable deaths, naturally. Quite a few of childhood diseases we have a handle on today. Infants accidentally suffocated is common. One kid died from a hemorrhage after a circumcision. The details involving fatal car accidents seem also quite preventable. There is a whole lot of stupidity going on in the beginning of the 20th Century. And stupidity kills.
Very few septicemia kills. Infection from a wound. In the days before antibiotics I expected more. One infection from a botched illegal abortion. Quite a few pneumonia deaths, and I imagine antibiotics might have been of use there.
Each entry tries to describe cause of death, sometime other pertinent facts that turned up in an investigation surround the death, a brief description of the decease, height, weight, name, and age. There is a note as to anything of value with the dead person, and who might be in possession of those items at that time. If someone was murdered they often mention who dood it, by name.
Here is a sample, let's see if the format translates, for those that don't bother to check the link:
11/21/1930 ~~ DINSMORE, Wylie Henderson ~~ 56 ~~ 5'8"/150# ~~
Mr. Dinsmore was last seen walking east on State Road 46 approx 1/2 mile west of his farmhouse, following a corn shredder which was being moved by a tractor driven by Mr. Sam Binkley. It was fast becoming dark, there was no light on the rear of the shredder, and a Ford driven by Mr. M. W. Hatfield overtook the shredder and collided with it. Mr. Dinsmore was crushed between the two, suffering a fractured skull and both legs, also numerous flesh wounds.~~//~~Usual working man's clothing, one gold watch, very badly damaged.
Lots of suicide back then, too. For some reason, folks were depressed, as if there was some Great Depression of some sort bearing down on them. People seemed to have a propensity to off themselves by ingesting carbolic acid, a common disinfectant. It'd be like killing yourself drinking Lysol today. You were much more likely, back then, statistically to die by your own hand than at the hands of a murderer, using any means, either way. (A few were gutsy enough to slit their own throat, many self-hangings, and the various other famous poisons, arsenic, strychnine, that sort of thing.)
Working at Johnson's Quarry seemed pretty hazardous, too. A good place to be if you wanted to leave this world by making a big squishing sound.
And there is a surprising amount of detail regarding gun content. Particularly around suicides. Search the report for the terms "suicide", "murder", "homicide", "shot", "bullet", "calibre".
There was 28 suicides by firearm, 21 homicides by firearm (4 of those declared justifiable in conclusions in the report)
To break it down for you, several/many .32s, .38s, and one .22 and two .41 revolver (justifiable shootings by police are included, and a cop had that .41, as well as an I.S. contractor. Though how that contractor got off, I have no idea. The bullet's entry was in the scapula are and traveled up to the front of the throat/neck. In other words he shot him in the back. Now I know there are scenarios where a back shot can be justifiable, but... At least the dead 'bad guy' was armed.) One Remington .22 auto rifle, one 'Luger .22 automatic revolver w/ steel jacketed bullets' (?!?!?!?!), some 12 gauge action, and a few unspecified calibers/models. One .35 caliber and a .25 mentioned once each. A .24 caliber. A .32 caliber rifle is mentioned in a suicide. A sweet 16 shotgun is in the list, too.
Death by caliber:
.22 = 5
.25 = 1
.32 = 17
.35 = 1
.38 = 16 and (One .38 pistol was mentioned but not used to cause death, it was just in the deceased's personal effects.)
.41 = 2
.44 One mentioned among personal effects
.45 = 2
20g = 1
16 = 1
12 = 10 and there were many other unspecified bores of shotgun wounds.
It goes to show, that whatever you say about a .32 or smaller, it is certainly effective enough, at times. And the most common way to kill yourself with a firearm in that part of Indiana is with a 12 gauge. You were much more likely, back then, statistically to shuffle off the mortal coil by your own hand than at the hands of a murderer, using any means. (A few were gutsy enough to slit their own throat, many self-hangings, and the various famous poisons, arsenic, strychnine, that sort of thing. )
Noticeably infrequent, death by .45s. Just two I see. I guess you had to go out to cowboy areas to get plugged with a big gun. Bloomington is a bit 'back east' for the time period, yes? There is death by a .32 auto, but no mention of a a Colt 1911 style that I can see. There is a mention of a single .44 Colt revolver, but the revolver wasn't the cause of death. That was a blow to the head. Doesn't say if it was a pistol whipping or not, but a .44 could make a good head thumper.
One gun accident I saw. A 5 year old child killed his mother. Another accident with a clip removed from a 32, but there seemed to be one in the chamber. He killed his 8 year old brother that way.
A fellow died by hunting accident, poking the butt of his shotgun into a rabbit hole while holding onto the barrel. Maybe the rabbit reached for the trigger. A few other hunting accidents. A boy shot his 42 year old father that way.
Lots of questions (for me) surround one police shooting. The criminal copped to the crime before expirng (how convenient), and there is an ugly racial incident in 1934. And a 1904 incident where an African American defended his home (well tent, actually) and was cleared of any wrong doing. No mention of the dead assailant's race.
A Davis and Johnson (?!) .38 revolver is mentioned specifically, an Ivy(?!) Johnson .32 (both 'Johnsons' were probably Iver Johnson pistols. Which makes you wonder how extremely precise and accurate a coroner's report is. I'd trust diagnosis of Enterocalitis over a proper identification of gun model, or even caliber. We'll continue to go with the assumption the coroner does a halfway decent job.), a S&W, Colt, as is the Remington .22 rifle mentioned earlier, as well as the dubiously identified Luger. And they spelled caliber 'calibre' back then, mostly.
Looks like, if you were a gunnie in Bloomington back then, you had a .32 or a .38. Sort of the 9mm vs. .45 argument of 100 years ago? Naw, I'm projecting back from circumstances in my own time. Poor journeyman historical work by me there.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
NPR Zombies
As some of you know, I do some OPFOR Intel by listening to NPR. Just not during pledge week. They sound so desperate I can't bear to listen to their plaintive pleas.
There is a lefty call-in game show called "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" syndicated. The show has gone from weekly to monthly ever since losing George W Bush, and thus 74% of their joke material, but here is the transcript from the show when they got themselves caught up in a nasty Zed outbreak! Due to the nature of the broadcast it wasn't aired, I'm sure. Paula Poundstone fell off the wagon as a result of that day's events but has since sobered up, again. She's such a brave little trooper.
As you can see/read, they thought it was level 4. Mistaken, or we'd all know it. No, this one was contained, too. And they got the details about Sarah Palin wrong. Everyone knows, even hoplophobic Lefty Collectivists, that you WANT Sarah Palin on your ramparts with a rifle. That woman will be vying for highest Z-Retirement headcount, worldwide, on that future dread-day, may it never come.
~~~
As an aside, the bumper music in the transitions between segments on NPR has been running a lot of small sections from the Downward Spiral album. Not Muzak, not Baby Boomer Hippy music from the 60's, not neoHippy Earth-Mother Vegan Walk-Easy Easy-Listening. Nine Inch Nails. NINE INCH NAILS. (ok, Trent is a bit of a empty-headed Lefitst, I'll give NPR that.)
There is a lefty call-in game show called "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" syndicated. The show has gone from weekly to monthly ever since losing George W Bush, and thus 74% of their joke material, but here is the transcript from the show when they got themselves caught up in a nasty Zed outbreak! Due to the nature of the broadcast it wasn't aired, I'm sure. Paula Poundstone fell off the wagon as a result of that day's events but has since sobered up, again. She's such a brave little trooper.
As you can see/read, they thought it was level 4. Mistaken, or we'd all know it. No, this one was contained, too. And they got the details about Sarah Palin wrong. Everyone knows, even hoplophobic Lefty Collectivists, that you WANT Sarah Palin on your ramparts with a rifle. That woman will be vying for highest Z-Retirement headcount, worldwide, on that future dread-day, may it never come.
~~~
As an aside, the bumper music in the transitions between segments on NPR has been running a lot of small sections from the Downward Spiral album. Not Muzak, not Baby Boomer Hippy music from the 60's, not neoHippy Earth-Mother Vegan Walk-Easy Easy-Listening. Nine Inch Nails. NINE INCH NAILS. (ok, Trent is a bit of a empty-headed Lefitst, I'll give NPR that.)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Solomani Rim
Oh, GAWD, Tam brought some memories from High School.
I played a game called Traveller then. Game Designers Workshop. It was a Space Opera RPG game. Sort of like Firefly but with more planets to play with.
What I wouldn't give to play that game again with Tam, RX, Breda, JayG, LabRat, Stingray, Bridgette, and all the other RPG geeks that happen to be gunnies, blogger, and Firefly fans.
Dammit Tam!
I played a game called Traveller then. Game Designers Workshop. It was a Space Opera RPG game. Sort of like Firefly but with more planets to play with.
What I wouldn't give to play that game again with Tam, RX, Breda, JayG, LabRat, Stingray, Bridgette, and all the other RPG geeks that happen to be gunnies, blogger, and Firefly fans.
Dammit Tam!
Riot
Luckily, I had carried my CCW pistol with me that day. It was pandemonium at the grocery store. I hoped the roofing material was steel with a layer of gravel on top, because I was about to try to punch two holes in it.
BLAM! BLAM!
Then silence.
“YOU PEOPLE NEED TO CALM DOWN!” I shouted. In the pause I stole a glance up. Yup, I could see light coming down in my new holes. Damn. I hope no one got hurt wherever they came down. Illegal to fire off a few in a Maryland Safeway? Oh, yes. Heck that’s illegal in Alaska. But this was weather inspired anarchy. In the mid-Atlantic states a hard rain can get this kind of panic. And the professional meteorologist on the TeeVee was saying three FEET of fluffy white stuff. Fixins for French Toast (eggs milk bread, and for a bit after the toast was consumed, terlet paper) was almost as important an acquisition for these frightened souls as oxygen.
The man I took for the store manager was haggard looking, and standing off to my side. His brow was a furrowed as deep as the New River Gorge. Normally he’d be on the horn calling the police about now because a man had just fired a gun in his grocery store. But the police were busy with other things. And the store manager was busy with not getting killed by a crazed mob or getting his store gutted by a crowd of what appeared to be man sized panicky locusts.
A couple people were sobbing quietly in the lull after the shots and my entreaty. But that was the only peep. I don’t know if it was because they were children separated from their parents, people injured in the slow motion stampede, or frightened souls scared or my Sig and the bark it makes. Hell, MY ears were ringing. One crazy-eyed lady was still tugging on an overflowing cart and about to slip her wig and start the whole deadly process all over again.
“Ma’am? MA’AM?! MA’AM!!! Put the cart aside! Ma’am! Let it be. Put it aside. You don’t need 14 case of Clorox wipes, ma’am. It will NOT make good toilet paper. No. No it won’t. No. It’ll burn like the dickens. Put it down. There you go. It’s gonna be ok.”
The tension in the crowd was slowly unwinding, like a clock spring on a Thursday. What? You know, because you wind it up on Friday or Saturday, so the spring is… Ok, that was a bad analogy for 2010. Damn kids and their quartz movement time pieces… Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, the crowd.
“Now if the rest of you can grab just a baskets worth of stuff and ease up to the check-out aisles. You won’t be trapped at home for that long, and your families need you get back from here alive. There isn’t much left here besides maraschino cherries, pitted olives, and cloves anyway. Hey, that sounds like the fixings for an interesting cocktail! I know I could use a drink.”
That got a chuckle or two from the back. Everything was going to be ok. Well, except the ceiling and roof.
BLAM! BLAM!
Then silence.
“YOU PEOPLE NEED TO CALM DOWN!” I shouted. In the pause I stole a glance up. Yup, I could see light coming down in my new holes. Damn. I hope no one got hurt wherever they came down. Illegal to fire off a few in a Maryland Safeway? Oh, yes. Heck that’s illegal in Alaska. But this was weather inspired anarchy. In the mid-Atlantic states a hard rain can get this kind of panic. And the professional meteorologist on the TeeVee was saying three FEET of fluffy white stuff. Fixins for French Toast (eggs milk bread, and for a bit after the toast was consumed, terlet paper) was almost as important an acquisition for these frightened souls as oxygen.
The man I took for the store manager was haggard looking, and standing off to my side. His brow was a furrowed as deep as the New River Gorge. Normally he’d be on the horn calling the police about now because a man had just fired a gun in his grocery store. But the police were busy with other things. And the store manager was busy with not getting killed by a crazed mob or getting his store gutted by a crowd of what appeared to be man sized panicky locusts.
A couple people were sobbing quietly in the lull after the shots and my entreaty. But that was the only peep. I don’t know if it was because they were children separated from their parents, people injured in the slow motion stampede, or frightened souls scared or my Sig and the bark it makes. Hell, MY ears were ringing. One crazy-eyed lady was still tugging on an overflowing cart and about to slip her wig and start the whole deadly process all over again.
“Ma’am? MA’AM?! MA’AM!!! Put the cart aside! Ma’am! Let it be. Put it aside. You don’t need 14 case of Clorox wipes, ma’am. It will NOT make good toilet paper. No. No it won’t. No. It’ll burn like the dickens. Put it down. There you go. It’s gonna be ok.”
The tension in the crowd was slowly unwinding, like a clock spring on a Thursday. What? You know, because you wind it up on Friday or Saturday, so the spring is… Ok, that was a bad analogy for 2010. Damn kids and their quartz movement time pieces… Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, the crowd.
“Now if the rest of you can grab just a baskets worth of stuff and ease up to the check-out aisles. You won’t be trapped at home for that long, and your families need you get back from here alive. There isn’t much left here besides maraschino cherries, pitted olives, and cloves anyway. Hey, that sounds like the fixings for an interesting cocktail! I know I could use a drink.”
That got a chuckle or two from the back. Everything was going to be ok. Well, except the ceiling and roof.
Grimace
Or "Yiff in HELL, furries."
I think I know why Avatar was so popular. People missed that hocker of McDonald's chem-shakes, Grimace.
There is a Grimace-shaped whole in America's heart, and googly eyed blue people help to fill it.
[Gun Content: If you ever see a REAL Grimace... Not just sumdood in a costume... Do not hesitate. Deadly buggers. Keep a taxidermist's card in your wallet, too.]
Friday, February 5, 2010
Scrood
I live in the "You're Screwed!" bubble. If this was Chicago or Buffalo it wouldn't be a big deal. The municipalities there can handle the volume. We've already used up our snow removal budget, and they were talking about cutting back on plow hours a couple weeks ago...
Snowpocalypse 2
Yeah, yeah, white death, we're all gonna die, better hollow out one of the fatter neighbors and crawl inside to survive. Like he was some sort of Tauntaun on the ice planet, Hoth.
If I don't make it, avenge my death, yada yada. Living envy the dead, etc.
If I don't make it, avenge my death, yada yada. Living envy the dead, etc.
Gun Content, Thin On The Ground.
Well, I just did my taxes. I’m getting $300 LESS back this year compared to last. So my taxes have ALREADY gone up. Those bastards downtown done stole my money!
And some of YOU readers voted for him. The way I see it, you owe me for that $300. Now I know that many of you don’t have that kind of scratch on you. No worries. Let me tell you about my Ass Gas or Grass policy….
See, either you mow my lawn for the summer… that’s the grass part, or you pay my winter gas bill, or I get to shoot you in the hind quarters with my dad’s old BB gun.
Anyway, enough to buy a new gun? Maybe. Maybe not. I need to go visit my mom down in the FLA.
More topicality…
We’re expecting another doozy of a winter storm down here. The weather people have set the White-Death Death-Count Counter back to zero in anticipation of tracking the mortality from Donner Party type privations and suburban avalanches. Or something. How is that related to guns? I’ll tell you. We’re all friends here, all gun enthusiasts… How to solve the blizzard problem with guns? No, I’m not talking about exacting our revenge on meteorological phenomena by shooting our guns in the air, Iraqi Wedding style, or using them to stick up our neighbors to rob them of the pre-requisite blizzard milk bread eggs and terlet paper. Neither of those methods are wise or safe. No, I’m talking about using our firearms to clear the snow after! (and PERFECTLY safe!)
Load your 12 gauge with rock-salt and SHOOT the snow. The salt will melt the snow! What could go wrong?
And some of YOU readers voted for him. The way I see it, you owe me for that $300. Now I know that many of you don’t have that kind of scratch on you. No worries. Let me tell you about my Ass Gas or Grass policy….
See, either you mow my lawn for the summer… that’s the grass part, or you pay my winter gas bill, or I get to shoot you in the hind quarters with my dad’s old BB gun.
Anyway, enough to buy a new gun? Maybe. Maybe not. I need to go visit my mom down in the FLA.
More topicality…
We’re expecting another doozy of a winter storm down here. The weather people have set the White-Death Death-Count Counter back to zero in anticipation of tracking the mortality from Donner Party type privations and suburban avalanches. Or something. How is that related to guns? I’ll tell you. We’re all friends here, all gun enthusiasts… How to solve the blizzard problem with guns? No, I’m not talking about exacting our revenge on meteorological phenomena by shooting our guns in the air, Iraqi Wedding style, or using them to stick up our neighbors to rob them of the pre-requisite blizzard milk bread eggs and terlet paper. Neither of those methods are wise or safe. No, I’m talking about using our firearms to clear the snow after! (and PERFECTLY safe!)
Load your 12 gauge with rock-salt and SHOOT the snow. The salt will melt the snow! What could go wrong?
Thursday, February 4, 2010
tent bleg
Anyone have any recommendation for a 2-Man expedition-quality 4-season tent. Like this, but maybe less orangey... Rugged is more important than light weight. There is plenty to choose from on there here interwebs, but hard to select without outside inputs.
Then all I'll need is to find some boots that fit my poor feet and I can get our into the great outdoors for some backpacking.
Then all I'll need is to find some boots that fit my poor feet and I can get our into the great outdoors for some backpacking.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Yes, Why?
Why is the IRS buying shotguns? Short ones, only good for close range or inside house-clearing. 60 of them.
How many dynamic entry scenarios, firearms drawn, homeowners proned out, rooms cleared, and search warrant executed, does the Internal Revenus Service have to do each year? Or EVER?!
[update: Wow. Nigh every other gunblogger in the universe posted about this before I did. Except JayG. I'm about as slow as you Jay. You had to type more or you'd have beaten me.]
How many dynamic entry scenarios, firearms drawn, homeowners proned out, rooms cleared, and search warrant executed, does the Internal Revenus Service have to do each year? Or EVER?!
[update: Wow. Nigh every other gunblogger in the universe posted about this before I did. Except JayG. I'm about as slow as you Jay. You had to type more or you'd have beaten me.]
Lost Another
Looks like my favorite British blogger, and the home to the Slaughtered Socialist (favorite pub!) is shuttering his establishment for privacy reason.
Fair winds and following seas, Free Market Fairy Tales, you shall be missed. I shall raise a proper pint in your honor at the earliest opportunity.
Cheers.
Fair winds and following seas, Free Market Fairy Tales, you shall be missed. I shall raise a proper pint in your honor at the earliest opportunity.
Cheers.
More Rhino Info
I just saw this combing my blog roll.
Massad Ayoob has a picture from SHOT Show with a Chiappa Rhino revolver with the cut away to show the lock internals.
Nifty.
Massad Ayoob has a picture from SHOT Show with a Chiappa Rhino revolver with the cut away to show the lock internals.
Nifty.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
January Range Report
Well, after waiting for my new pistol, and then waiting for the range to fix its ventilator, I FINALLLY got a chance to try it out Friday the 30th.
As an aside, I don't think I am cut out for target shooting. It is so easy for me to just relax my concentration. I still get hits, but they fall off quite a bit in accuracy. The first couple in a string are often the best. Then I start jerking the trigger or letting my stance slack or rush the shot... just to be done. It's fun, my way, but flawed. You'd think I'd be better by now. I'm not such a NEW New Jovian Thunderbolt. I am pleased about my trigger control improving, though.
I was lucky enough to drag another co-worker/colleague and his girl friend to the range. We'll call this friend, and we DO really call him this, The BEARD.
The BEARD is recently out of the military. He's been out long enough to grow a majestic, tremendous, intimidating, and, some say, SENTIENT beard. With his life settling down to the higher pay and less authoritarian hassle of civilian life, AND with me talking a good game, he thought it time to get a firearm or two. His first purchase, picked up on the 27th, was a .22 Ruger Mk III Target. Just a plain Jane Mk III with adjustable sights and a bull barrel. An excellent choice, I thought.
He's never fired anything but the M-16 with the military before this. So he knows what to do, and can shoot safely, but he has the whole world of range fun ahead of him.
His Girlfriend, the Companion Of BEARD, has something a little bigger. Her pistol is a blued .357 S&W Model 327. Early 90s manufacture. So NO trigger lock. It's a very nice looking gun, too.
I shot .22, mostly. Though I did put some mags through the SIG P229. I need more practice with it, anyway. Except where my concentration fell off, I was pleased with the .40's performance. But I am not going to win any accuracy prizes with that.
Nor am I going to win any with .22, but I will come MUCH closer. The S&W 617 shoots well, and it shoots like my 686 does, so, except for the recoil difference, I feel the .22 will translate to a great practice gun for the .357. So I am pleased with that. Very.
I also shot the 1911 with its .22 conversion kit. I'm starting to get the groove of trigger control down with a 1911. Hope to have some more "All .22" range days, now. I can also have the "All 6" stainless steel revolver" range day, too. When I go to the pistol range, I prefer to only go with 2 firearms. On weekdays, at least. If it's an introductory to a newbie range effort, more guns get brought. Or a weekend trip. But those sessions last longer.
One purpose of the this trip was to try out a speed strip with the .22 revolver. Meh. Useless to me. Maybe with my practice.
Another thing to investigate was some 50 year old ammo of my father's. They .22s had developed a ring of corrosion, probably due to mismatched metals, where the lead round met the brass case. And they were impossible to seat into the revolver cylinder because of this. So I poop-canned them.
Anyway, the BEARD and his Companion both tried the .22s I brought a long. They had more jams with the 1911 than I experienced. And the BEARD tried the .40 as well. I didn't spend too much time watching their lane, but they shot the bejeez out of that new .22 and ran a box of .38 through her revolver. They shot as well or better than me, which is typical.
I can tell that someone that is a better shot could be spot on accurate with this 617 revolver. No yard squirrel would be safe. You wouldn't need to break out the rifle.
How to overcome my lack of self-discipline while shooting? Practice, naturally, but it should be GOOD practice, not the kind that reinforces my impatience. Maybe set up reactive targets. Spent shotgun shells on a fence rail make good .22 targets.
I did notice I'm shooting high, 1 O'Clock while going DA with the revolver, and to the right at 3 O'Clock when shooting SA. Though I accidentally left the target with good SA shots behind at the range. Top left is DA with revolver, there are some .40 on the splatter targets, top right is conversion kit, bottom left is SA revolver, and bottom right is BEARD's work. He's left handed too.
High on DA means... I dunno. I'm not jumping the gun or anything. It's .22. Shooting to the side on DA means I need better trigger finger placement and polish that trigger pull a bit more. Straight and back and smooth and surprisey.
The BEARD would love to figure out a way to have less take up and trigger travel on his Mk III. How much more can you want with a SA trigger?!!!
As an aside, I don't think I am cut out for target shooting. It is so easy for me to just relax my concentration. I still get hits, but they fall off quite a bit in accuracy. The first couple in a string are often the best. Then I start jerking the trigger or letting my stance slack or rush the shot... just to be done. It's fun, my way, but flawed. You'd think I'd be better by now. I'm not such a NEW New Jovian Thunderbolt. I am pleased about my trigger control improving, though.
I was lucky enough to drag another co-worker/colleague and his girl friend to the range. We'll call this friend, and we DO really call him this, The BEARD.
The BEARD is recently out of the military. He's been out long enough to grow a majestic, tremendous, intimidating, and, some say, SENTIENT beard. With his life settling down to the higher pay and less authoritarian hassle of civilian life, AND with me talking a good game, he thought it time to get a firearm or two. His first purchase, picked up on the 27th, was a .22 Ruger Mk III Target. Just a plain Jane Mk III with adjustable sights and a bull barrel. An excellent choice, I thought.
He's never fired anything but the M-16 with the military before this. So he knows what to do, and can shoot safely, but he has the whole world of range fun ahead of him.
His Girlfriend, the Companion Of BEARD, has something a little bigger. Her pistol is a blued .357 S&W Model 327. Early 90s manufacture. So NO trigger lock. It's a very nice looking gun, too.
I shot .22, mostly. Though I did put some mags through the SIG P229. I need more practice with it, anyway. Except where my concentration fell off, I was pleased with the .40's performance. But I am not going to win any accuracy prizes with that.
Nor am I going to win any with .22, but I will come MUCH closer. The S&W 617 shoots well, and it shoots like my 686 does, so, except for the recoil difference, I feel the .22 will translate to a great practice gun for the .357. So I am pleased with that. Very.
I also shot the 1911 with its .22 conversion kit. I'm starting to get the groove of trigger control down with a 1911. Hope to have some more "All .22" range days, now. I can also have the "All 6" stainless steel revolver" range day, too. When I go to the pistol range, I prefer to only go with 2 firearms. On weekdays, at least. If it's an introductory to a newbie range effort, more guns get brought. Or a weekend trip. But those sessions last longer.
One purpose of the this trip was to try out a speed strip with the .22 revolver. Meh. Useless to me. Maybe with my practice.
Another thing to investigate was some 50 year old ammo of my father's. They .22s had developed a ring of corrosion, probably due to mismatched metals, where the lead round met the brass case. And they were impossible to seat into the revolver cylinder because of this. So I poop-canned them.
Anyway, the BEARD and his Companion both tried the .22s I brought a long. They had more jams with the 1911 than I experienced. And the BEARD tried the .40 as well. I didn't spend too much time watching their lane, but they shot the bejeez out of that new .22 and ran a box of .38 through her revolver. They shot as well or better than me, which is typical.
I can tell that someone that is a better shot could be spot on accurate with this 617 revolver. No yard squirrel would be safe. You wouldn't need to break out the rifle.
How to overcome my lack of self-discipline while shooting? Practice, naturally, but it should be GOOD practice, not the kind that reinforces my impatience. Maybe set up reactive targets. Spent shotgun shells on a fence rail make good .22 targets.
I did notice I'm shooting high, 1 O'Clock while going DA with the revolver, and to the right at 3 O'Clock when shooting SA. Though I accidentally left the target with good SA shots behind at the range. Top left is DA with revolver, there are some .40 on the splatter targets, top right is conversion kit, bottom left is SA revolver, and bottom right is BEARD's work. He's left handed too.
High on DA means... I dunno. I'm not jumping the gun or anything. It's .22. Shooting to the side on DA means I need better trigger finger placement and polish that trigger pull a bit more. Straight and back and smooth and surprisey.
The BEARD would love to figure out a way to have less take up and trigger travel on his Mk III. How much more can you want with a SA trigger?!!!
Monday, February 1, 2010
New S&W
Looks like Smith and Wesson put up some info on the new plastic snubbie revolver.
Including a neato 360 degree animation that allows you to manipulate the image of it. Turn the gun image around and you can see that stupid trigger lock.
Someone tell folks that they'd rather pay twice as much for a Taurus snub nosed revolver (that requires facotry service out of the box, so a 6+ month wait) than to get a Smith with a trigger lock. At least a Smith I'd carry.
Including a neato 360 degree animation that allows you to manipulate the image of it. Turn the gun image around and you can see that stupid trigger lock.
Someone tell folks that they'd rather pay twice as much for a Taurus snub nosed revolver (that requires facotry service out of the box, so a 6+ month wait) than to get a Smith with a trigger lock. At least a Smith I'd carry.
I Like This Guy
H/T Alphecca
This Ammoland guy has been posting summaries of state law proposals that have to do with gun regulation. Even for Maryland. I appreciate his work. (It's more than just MD)
This Ammoland guy has been posting summaries of state law proposals that have to do with gun regulation. Even for Maryland. I appreciate his work. (It's more than just MD)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
