Friday, September 14, 2012

Dreams 2

I got more dreams, but they don't always have the gun content, so I don't always share them.

Like the one with no guns but I was in a Starship Troopers type basic training inside a super-skyscraper.  Lots of acrophobia there on the open stairs with big gaps between the treads you could fall through.

Or the one where I was a superhero.  Batman-esque.  But I could fly.  And I was armed with an FG-42 of all things.  I would normally carry the Thompson, I thought in the dream, but the bad guys I were after called for the larger round.  I was on a kidnapping case and had no arrest powers so I was calling in a favor with buddies in the FBI to make it legal and such.  While I waited for them, AGAIN in a giant hotel/mall/skyscraper complex, but luxurious this time, not barebones like basic training (above), I was consulting with other crime fighting masked superhero types to try to get as many brains working on the problem as I could, and we were all coming up with good scenarios in the parking garage. There were lots of glass elevators.

I have a recurring Chesapeake Bay dream, on the beach near Point No Point.  Had these for decades.  As I age the horizon, which is normally bear except for some times when you can see the far shore at low tide... well that distant shore get's more built up with taller and taller buildings.  And they get closer and closer to the Western side.  And the water near the beach, normally 5 feet deep, must get deeper and deeper because larger and larger vessels pass by as close as crab boats collecting pots.  At this age the 2 story building and street lights are now, in the dream, Chicago.  And the barges and tugboats are tankers and aircraft carriers.  I haven't even been down there for 15 years or more.

These 4 dreams were on successive nights (with the one from yesterday's post).  Without the nicotine patch they aren't always this good or memorable.


I know I know.  Dream posts....

Loretta Bell: How'd you sleep?
Ed Tom Bell: I don't know. Had dreams.
Loretta Bell: Well you got time for 'em now. Anythin' interesting?
Ed Tom Bell: They always is to the party concerned. 



Thursday, September 13, 2012

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I started blogging about the same time as JayG.  At one quarter the hits.


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Dreams

I used to smoke.  Started when I was thirty, mainly because of the anti-smoking backlash that was going on back then.  Busy bodies weren't going to tell ME what to do!

Lucky Strikes.  Unfiltered.  God they were glorious.

Anyway, bad idea.  I worked hard to quit but kept falling off the wagon.  I've got quitting dialed in, now, though, so when I do fall off the wagon it's no big deal.  I'll smoke from one to three weeks then be quit again.  The time gaps between relapses grows bigger and bigger.  To avoid relapses I have to avoid being around smokers.  Which is easier and easier unless I start dating one.

How do I quit?  I used to use that Chantrix stuff but to get a refill meant going to the doctor, who would then talk down to me in a condescending way as if I was a child.  You know smoking is bad for you?  Bad bad bad.  If I could change anything about the medical profession it would be that. 

But that's ok.  I find generic nicotine patches work wonders.  And they cost less than cigarettes.  They wean me off the cancer sticks lickity boo.

The side effects, for me, with Chantix was copious odorless underarm sweat.  Inconvenient.  The side effects for the patch is vivid dreams...  And hence, blog fodder:

I was back in the Nam.  It was 1965.  Our equipment was used and second rate.  Reduced to junk Garands.  Someone higher up decided we needed a new rifle.  So...  They altered the M1 Carbine.  They made it sort of a double rifle.  The usual 15 round .30 carbine magazine, but also a 5 round .30 Pederson magazine, to give us grunts that extra oomph.  Oh, good LAWD!

The extra anemic cartridge and extra weight was unnacceptable, but we would use it as a stopgap rifle until some new .223 rifle came out...  (see?  foreshadowing!  Must be for tonite's dream...)

Well, with a new rifle, that required new ammo.  So 200,000 rounds were ordered (I swear, this level of detail was in the dream.)  The supply officer only accepted 100,000, though.  We didn't want to store that much, and really, how would we burn through all that?  Viet Nam was just a sleep police action and all.

The dream kept cutting away to the the two non-descript red containers that held the ammo, just like it was a movie.  One of the containers kept shifting on the back of the flatbed truck... Uh oh... building tension...

Well, it was understood that the way to keep vital supplies untampered with was not to tie them down.  That made them look like they weren't valuable and the native population didn't bother with them.  It was my job to go check on the other 100,000 rounds. 

The supply dump was in a semi-urban area, and it was cold for the tropics.  A storm was brewing up.  There were plenty of locals going about their business in and around unguarded US containers.  Including kids at recess.  The wind was blowing things around a bit. I notice the container I was looking at was about 200 yards away and it was balanced precarious and shifting with each gust.  So I was a bit alarmed.  I started sprinting away as soon as I knew it was going to topple.  The container fell and burst open and rounds starting to pop off.  Then it was like a nuke going critical.  More and more rounds started going until the thing exploded.

Then the dream went to slow motion.  I could see the deadly shock wave moving out from the epicenter over my shoulder and was trying to put as much distance as I could in order to survive it.  Pity the locals that were too close.  I knew it was still dangerous to me because the wave front was kicking up dust and debris on the road as it closed in on me.  Eventually it overtook me and felt like I was kicked in the ass by Andre the Giant.  My last thoughts were, 'well, I probably have a concussion, now.'

I woke up home, and home was Georgetown, DC.  Of 40 years ago.  Not as tony as it was later.  Georgetown USED to be a slum-like area 70 years ago.  I was looking at old tube radios and appreciating the sound quality.  I ran across a cute little brunette on a bike, and she had a baby with her.  She must have had a guilty conscious because she apologized for stealing my bike.  "Oh, is this yours?" she said, pointing down at it.  It might have been a pickup line because the bike wasn't mine.  I responded, "Depends on what you mean.  The bike isn't mine, so there's that.  I just met you now so the baby is probably not mine, either.  But you have stolen my heart..."

CHEESY!  I need editors in my dreams.  But thanks for the movie, Nicotine Patch.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Translation

"Teen shoots self in junk while cleaning his pistol"

Right.  Whenever you see "shot while cleaning" I am sure that at least half the time it's the excuse used when the truth was, "Teen, probably under the influence of some mood altering substance, was showing off around friends with a loaded gun."

Yes people do stupid things while actually cleaning a gun.  Like violate 3 of the 4 rules simultaneously, I am almost positive this is not the case.  (Clearly, if cleaning, rule One was violated as he didn't triple check to see if it was loaded or not, he pointed it at something he DEFINITELY DIDN'T want destroyed, so rule Two, and the finger was on the trigger for the unhappy event... rule Three.  Rule Four sorta doesn't come into it or apply, so lets give him a pass and just award the hat trick.)

Not mentioning the whole 18 year old with an HK.  So the gun is stolen, 'borrowed' from a parent, or gifted by some adult.  All circumstances at least somewhat questionable, in view of the result.

Other possibility... He was carrying his pistol in his wasteband and grabbed the trigger re-arranging it.  Again "cleaning it and it went off" is the story you tell the cops.  After they don't go for the "Sumdood shot me and ran away" baloney.   "Sumdood shot me!" is the best excuse for the kid, after, as he doesn't get in trouble AND he gets to keep the expensive pistol.  You wouldn't expect there to be a gun to confiscate if the mysterious owner and assailant absconded.

He could have been cleaning it.  But my BS detector tells me it's the less likely scenario.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

9/11

Look at what today is.

I never did get my a feeling of righteous vengeance I thought the whole thing called for.  I thought it called for a: "Pull crap like that and bad things happen to you and most everyone you ever knew.  Man are you gonna be sorry.  And in 11 years we'll probably be good friends with the survivors.  See:  Japan, 1952.  So you have that to look forward to."

Monday, September 10, 2012

Flip Flops

For Breda.


Cuz she can wear flip flops now.  As soon as she acclimates to the new leg.  (The trick is that space between the first and second toes.)

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Crocopotami

Or is it Hippodiles?

Anyway... I had a dream that new type of dangerous game showed up in Africa.  Like Africa needed something NEW that kills people.  It was a cross between a Hippo and a Croc, obviously.  Hippo body and a Croc skin and head.  The jaw had both kinds of teeth.  And the things were HUGE.  Bigger than normal  full sized Hippos.  I don't know why they needed teeth, the heads were big enough to swallow people whole.

In the dream there was a way to protect yourself from these monsters that I am sure could take on Bull Elephants and win.  They wouldn't go through a sliding glass door.  A sliding glass door might as well be 4 feet of opaque reinforced concrete, to these bad boys.  Odd, but I'll take what I can get. 

Careful when you go swimming in Africa!

What caliber for Crocopotamus?  Goodness.  Truly a .50 BMG critter, I think.  The extra size and tough skin and thick body...  It'd be hard to get to the boiler room.  And with a skull twice as big and twice as thick as a normal full size croc, that would be problematic, too.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

2

Borepatch does a post on a 2-Bore.  Now that's a lotta gun.

Walking Dead

Walking Dead is full of fail on all outlets.  There is a Walking Dead game on Facebook.  I stopped playing when my baseball bat ran out of ammunition.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Literally

Both Joe Biden and Sean Hannity have the same problem.  Neither knows what 'literally' means and can't stop saying it.

So... ARs...

So when you buy a stripped lower, to get the rest of the gun you need to buy a "Stock Kit" and a "Trigger Kit" and an "Upper."  Is that right?

I need to carve out some time and watch the Brownells video on putting an AR together from parts.

But the Stock and Trigger kits...  They look common in the catalog houses, and I think the idea if to give you the whole spiel of that part of the rifle.  Is there some group of parts you won't have if you get those kits?

I'm budgetting and slowly accumulating.

And then... will I need specialized tools?  I know there is a do-hicky for getting the handguard on and off, but you won't need that right away if you get a complete upper.  There is also a wrench like multitool thingamabob that covers a lot needed tools.

The sort of upper I have my eye on is this.  A carbine length item with brass deflector and a flat top.  Will need EOTech type optics and BUIS, naturally.  I'd get a light mount and a foregrip too, but nothing else.  The stuff I've added is heavy enough.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Well...

They might not have any anti-gun stuff in the platform, or give it much airtime....  Unless you ask individually any of the intolerant bigoted convention goers... Morons.



The Daily Show with Jon StewartMon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Hope and Change 2 - The Party of Inclusion
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full EpisodesPolitical Humor & Satire BlogThe Daily Show on Facebook


Blogger get togethers

I'm going to try to be at both of these September gunblogger type events.

Back, and to the Left

Saw this video on Uncle.  He commented on how the security guard looked like a shooter, what with a decently fast draw and all.

What I noticed was his lateral movement. Good tactics, that.  Back up, putting some more distance between you and the attacker you are responding to, and move side to side.

Which way?  To the left is a good bet.  The security guard initially goes to his left; he steps to the right to draw and get a better shot but then when the excitement starts he scoots with a purpose toward port. Why back and to the left?  Well, most shooters are right handed.  And this is a stress situation so they're practice (if any) at hitting the bullseye goes out the window.  The most common reaction is to flinch and jerk the trigger.  Even on a calm square range most people, if they have a fault, and are right handed, will see groups low and left on the paper target.  If you are the target the holes would be low and on your right hand side.  So more to the left so those holes are only in the air next to you.  A much better place for the bad guy's bullets.

A better reaction would be to anticipate right and left-handers and move to the outside of the strong hand.  If you are presented with a guy with a two handed grip it's hard to tell which is the strong hand so moving left plays the odds. 

MOVING is most important, regardless of direction, of course.  Generally a good idea to not be in the same place, making it easier on the bad guy to line up on you.

At least that is how I think of it.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Never

I NEVER give permission for TTAG to use any content from my blog.  I just wanted that on record.  He seemed like a decent enough guy in person but the unethical practices there is a real turnoff.  He has a habit of lifting content, usually unattributed, from other blogs and does no value-add.

Value-add?  If I go, "Tam was talking about Y with the Colt Pocket Hammerless and that reminded me I had similar issues, X, with my Colt Pocket Hammerless."  With a link to Tam's post and then I go on about a new subject: X.

"Exploring the ethics, morality, business, politics, culture, technology, practice, strategy, dangers and fun of guns."


It's not hard to come up with your take on a subject or generate brand new stuff.  Go to a gunshow, go out shooting, play with the stuff you got.  I do it every day.

Of course I would have to come up with content worth lifting these days...

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Bottom of the Barrel

Slow gunblog day.

Remember this guy in 2016.  My governor.  Martin O'Malley.  He will be running for President if some philandering scandal doesn't catch up with him. (There are many rumors.  Watch The Wire to see those rumors fictionalized.)

The only reason Maryland's economy is decent is we are so close to the Federal Money spigot.  If sequestration happens look for our situation to tank.  Taxes are too high here.

And he isn't sure if the current national economy is better or worse...

And he is obviously terrible on Second Amendment issues. 

Don't let our horror become the nation's.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Labor

For Labor Day I rotated my tires, chopped back and mowed over the patch of wildflowers out front, and I am doing laundry.  Can I rest now?  Is that enough labor?  I'm sweating like an incumbent democrat with 10% unemployment going into an election...

Bugs and Hunting

I am STILL tormented by the chigger bites I got a week ago.  Curse the buggers.  Next time...  DEET insect repellent, wrists neck ankles.  The books say it takes 10 days.  This is day 7.

But what if I go hunting before the first frost?  Wouldn't I just be adding yet another smell to the Eu-de-TBolt aroma to frighten off Bambi?  I mean, it's bad enough with the cloud of testosterone, Aqua Velva, and methane (it's why the ladies can't keep their hands offa me.  Well, not the methane so much.) I walk around in the center of, all day.

Based on my discomfort I don't care if bug spray will guarantee the deer will stay away, I'm using it.

I've heard tricks of carrying half an onion in you pocket.  The deer don't associate the onion smell with threat and might mask the other human smells that could spook them off.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Quartered Safe

So I am reading Quartered Safe Out Here by George MacDonald Fraser.  Fraser wrote the Flashman series, and this is a memoir of his life as British enlisted man in a nigh forgotten corner of WWII.  Burma.

He was a member of the Black Cat division, the 17th.  His regiment came from Cumberland in north England, and he tried to faithfully reproduce their accent in the dialog.  Fascinating.  "Est seen a coody loup ower a yett?" is Cumbrian for "Have you seen a donkey jump over a gate?"  You get used to it pretty quickly.

They called him 'Jock' because that what you do to any Scot that ends up in your unit.

It's not a history.  Just a recollection of some events 50 years after the fact.

His reference to the Japanese was 'Jap' and that applied in plural as well as the singular.  While US forces usually added the S to the plural: Japs.

In the fighting he carried a Lee Enfield, naturally, and had the old style sword bayonet.  Though other members had the shorter pig-sticker style.  His company commander had one of these bayonets and it ended up bending at a 90 degree angle inside a Japanese soldier, making extraction difficult.  When Fraser was promoted to lance corporal and section leader they issue him a Thompson submachine gun which he detested.  When he was able to he dumped the Tommy gun in a river and went back to the Enfield.  He hated the Tommy as it was inaccurate at range and rusted too easily in the monsoons.  Monsoons are something Westerners would not believe unless they are in one.  It's an astounding amount of water coming down, apparently.

His biggest consternation was leading men much older than him.   I know how he feels.

His biggest beef with the modern world is the touchy feeliness of modern people.  Stiff upper lip, there!  The Londoners didn't need counselors for the psychological health after the Battle of Britain you Silly-Mary.

His division arguably fought in the last set piece battle of the war at Pyawbwe.

He never got injured by enemy fire but suffered from dysentery, malaria, and spongy white waterlogged skin and accompanying sores.

His admiration of the Gurkhas was unparalleled.  Short little deadly whirlwinds with a large crooked knife.  They'd drop their rifles in jungle encounters.  Not to runaway, but to attack.


Saturday, September 1, 2012

Two Great Tastes


You know those flashlights with a crank grip that you pump and they don't need batteries?  Like this or this?  The ones that go "whir whir whir whir whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...."



Well, combine with a grip like this.


And now you are cooking with gas!  Never have your gunlight run out of battery juice.  It runs on beer and fritos.

NO ONE STEAL MY IDEA!  I'm gonna get rich offa this patent!