New Blogs!

Okay, I got a couple of takers from my bleg, so the blogroll swells by two new additions:

1. Justin Buist, at the eponymously titled blog. He's had MArooned on the rolls for a while and apparently I've been too freakin' blind to notice. Sorry Justin! I click over from his comment to find this post up. Talk about small world! (side note: Last October was the last time I acquired a new long arm? Man... I am slipping in my old age...)

2. The mysteriously named TOTWTYTR over at Too Old To Work, Too Young To Retire. I've met this person, so this blog goes under "Bloggers I've Met" as well, but owing to concerns for their privacy I won't reveal any other information. I will say, though, that this person is sharp as a whip and major-league funny. I can only see good things coming from this new blog.

Thanks for answering the call, guys. Now, for the rest of ya... I know there are more blogs out there; I've seen 'em. So let me know!

That is all.

Party Like It's 1987...

...because the Boston Celtics will be facing the Los Angeles Lakers in the NBA Finals!

Just for shits & giggles, here's what I looked like the last time the Celtics made the finals:

Enjoy the rest of your day.

That is all.

You Know What I Like?

(Well, beside large caliber handguns, scantily clad women, and V8 engines, that is...)

I like looking at my referral logs and seeing blogs on my blogroll. It's like my friends are saying hi...

Hello. My name is Jay, and I'm a geek.

That is all.

Blogging Bleg

I know I've come across several new blogs that link here to MArooned. I can't for the life of me remember any of them.

Folks, if you link here and don't see your blog listed on the MArooned blogroll, please please please shoot me an e-mail or post in comments so I can correct this egregious oversight immediately.

Thanks!

That is all.

Gun Pr0n #61

Today's gun is a Colt Official Police Special, a 4" barreled, fixed sight fighting pistol chambered in .38 Special.

The gun in and of itself is rather unremarkable; there were several zillion 4" barrel, six-shot fixed sight guns made for police forces around the world for the better part of the 20^th century. The barrel and cylinder show typical holster wear common to issued sidearms. The wood grips are gone, replaced by the more utilitarian (but several orders of magnitude less attractive) Pachmayr Gripper grips.

So what's the deal? It's a stunt gun. It's a stand-in for my most cherished firearm possession, the Colt Official Police Special revolver my grandfather carried as a town cop. It's a different vintage, so there are minor differences between the two, but they're close enough that I can grab this gun to take to the range or for plinking and not worry about it getting beat up or damaged. She shoots nice, as most of the old Colts do, although I did notice that Grampy's Colt shot better. 'Course, I could have help with that one, too...

That is all.

Thursday Traffic Tribulations...

What the fuck is going on out there today???

In no particular order...

• To the unfortunate victim of Chimpy McHitler's Super-Duper Depression of Death who needs to collect cans to live, trust me on this one dude, you'll do a lot better in life if you move your car further off the road and not leave your fucking driver's side door open while you root through people's trash.

• To the guy in the Camry who was too preoccupied with talking on his cell phone to use common courtesy, that "thin blue line" sticker doesn't turn on your directionals for you.

• Stop sign tutorial #1: If there USED to be a stop sign on the road, but the town has completely redesigned the roadway such that the stop sign is gone and the roads no longer intersect there, you can safely, without fear of ticket or accident, proceed without stopping. Honest. There can be no oncoming traffic for you to dodge because the road is no longer there.

• Stop sign tutorial #2: In a complete 180º turn, just because you formerly had the right-of-way doesn't mean you can ignore the shiny new four-way stop. Legally, you are required to stop, not just pretend to be glued to the bumper of the car in front of you. I got to the intersection first; I was the vehicle on the right; and I was the vehicle with the right-of-way (I was also bigger, FWIW). Consider getting Mr. Digit Hand Puppet and a blast from the tooter of doom a small price to pay for being an asshole.

• Note to Fox: Fuck off and die. Your pathetic "reality" show "The Academy" has one of the most annoying fucking radio advertisements I've ever heard. Using police sirens is a brilliant fucking touch - because the entire time your overly loud commercial was playing, I was trying to figure out if it was your commercial or an emergency vehicle. I can understand that you want to make the connection between your pathetic show and our boys in blue; doing it at the expense of decorum and public safety means you need to eat shit and die. Fuckers.

• Lastly, to the landscaping company with the large enclosed-box trailer: Your trailer lights are not connected at all. That means, among other silly things like breaking the law, you're showing a serious lack of thought about how your company presents itself. The trailer is very nice, professionally lettered and clean. Spend an extra $10 on the wiring harness and get the fucking lights working, and check them every morning. When I have to guess whether you're stopping, slowing, or turning because your lights don't work, it negates all the good done by the professional-looking trailer. And I'm tempted to call your 800 number and ask if your refrigerator is running, just to be an asshole...

That is all.

UPDATE: I think I found the problem. Apparently a bunch of morons emigrated to MA from IN...

Inspiration...

Last night I was fortunate enough to attend a party for a good friend's 10^th wedding anniversary. While shooting the breeze with my friend (this is a buddy I've known since high school; he was my best man and I his; he's also been part of the "Greatest Camping Trip in the History of Western Civilization" and the infamous TGIFriday's bar fight...), the conversation got around to the price of gas. The natural grousing ensued, with the inevitable lament of "if we went to war for oil, why are we paying $4 a gallon?"

Well, this got me to thinking... And I was inspired:

The idea struck me as funny. So I felt the need to create & share...

(I also found I have a new lurker... My buddy's blushing bride of 10 long-suffering years admitted to reading my inane rantings... Hi B!)

That is all.

Let Me Get This Straight...

Alternate title: File Under "D" for DUH...

Okay, so Scott McClellan cashed in on his three years as White House spokesperson in the Bush administration. That's his perogative.

Allegedly his book is full of salacious details about who lied to who, who set who up, etc. Again, his perogative. If it happened, he's got every right to make his fistful of dollars telling his side.

What's stupid, though, is the media reporting this as though it were some sort of bombshell revelation. Gee, a former administration official writes a book that's less-than-complimentary about George Bush, a president only slightly less popular than anal warts (although more popular than the Democratically-controlled Congress, but I digress...).

How, praytell, is this news? Did they expect his book to contain nothing but sunshine and rainbows? Yeah, that'd make it past an editor's desk. Not...

That is all.

Small Town Memorial Day...

Okay. I've been meaning to post this since last Thursday, but life intervened...

Went to the town Memorial Day ceremony last Thursday (why Thursday? I have no idea...). Brought my son to be with the Scouts (Boy and Cub) so he could learn what Memorial Day is about.

It's a small ceremony, by present-day spectacle standards. The head of the VFW opens the ceremony with the Pledge of Allegiance and National Anthem (my job, of course, was to remind the Cub Scouts when to keep on their hats, when to take them off, and when to put them back on...)

Next we have the winner of the "What Memorial Day Means to Me" contest from the local high school read her essay (interesting footnote 1: They've been doing this since I went to the school some 20-mumble years ago. Interesting footnote 2: My 8^th grade submission, a poem, was submitted in the top 2 from my grade).

After this, the high school band plays a John Philips Souza march; a current serviceman gives a short speech, then the band plays another song. Then there's a 21-gun salute from town veterans (using, the gun nut in me couldn't help but notice, a mixture of M1 Garands and 1903 Springfields).

The ceremony closes with the widow of the recently-deceased VFW head laying a wreath on the town memorial to those from our town who have served in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam (plans are underway to add Gulf Wars I & II).

After the ceremony was over, I took my son to the monument (because of inclement weather, the ceremony was held in the firehouse garage) and gave him a quick overview of what it meant (try explaining the concept of war to a 7 year old. Really). I then pointed out the names some cousins who served in Korea and Vietnam. He was impressed to see his last name on the monument.

What was nice to see was the respect for the current and past veterans. When the current serviceman finished his story, the entire crowd got to its feet and applauded heartily. No one walked out. No one heckled. No one refused to say the Pledge. While those arguments have their time and place, and certainly must be offered in a free society, it was refreshing to see a level of civility that's sorely lacking in current politics (the moron from Fox News commenting about Obama/Osama is a perfect example).

That is all.

Life Is Good, Part II

Here's another reason why life is good:

Yep. The boy is old enough to ride on the Harley. Had a feeling that this was the year, as he sprouted something crazy like 4" over the winter. The picture above was from his first ride about a month ago, which was pretty much just around the block to see if he was ready.

He was.

Yesterday we went out for about an hour. At the end he was kinda squirmy, telling me that "Dad, my butt's asleep" as his reason for wanting to head home rather than explore further on two wheels.

Fine with me.

A good part of it, as you can see above, is that he's just barely big enough to fit on the bike - he has to skootch forward for his feet to reach the footboards. This puts him in an odd position of kinda slouching forward, but it keeps him close so I can more accurately gauge his interest/attention level. When the interest/attention level drops below 99%, we head for home.

One gallon of premium gas: $4.25
Child's size M leather jacket: $50
Being able to share one of my passions with my son? Priceless.

That is all.

Life Is Good...

Okay, I gotta post this late Friday night so y'all don't think I've lost my edge...

You've got to savor life's little victories, because the big ones are few and far between. In that vein, I celebrate one today: Finding a motorcycle inspection station that's less than 20 miles from my house... And, a little over a week before every inspection sticker in MA expires*, I rolled up to the shop and was waved right on into the garage. No wait.

Hoping to have some time tomorrow to post about the Memorial Day ceremony I took the Scouts to last night. Small town America, even in the Volksrepublik of MA, still loves and celebrates her heroes.


(*In MA, all motorcycle inspections expire 5/31. It's stupid, in that you have about a month after taking the bike out of storage to get it inspected on the weekend. From May 1^st on, you've got to find a place open late and get there after work. At least in NH it's June 30th, which gives a whole extra month)

Gun Pr0n # 60

Okay, I had another firearm in mind when I started this post, but when I realized what number today was, I had to mesh...

Yep, that's a Marlin Model 60 for Gun Pr0n #60. Got this gun at the GOAL Heritage Banquet a couple of years back from one of the many gun auctions at the banquet. I've got to say, it felt quite surreal walking out of a restaurant in Massa-fucking-chusetts holding a rifle in my hands...

That is all.

Why I Hate People, Part ???

Because, for some unDarwinian reason, people like the Suzy Soccermom I followed for ~ 5 miles today manage to avoid drinking out of a bottle with a skull and crossbones on it...

I mean, really... I know you have a high-end "crossover" SUV with a Bavarian nameplate. I had plenty of time to study it as you careened through the back roads at speeds reaching, well, 10 - 15 MPH below the speed limit. I especially love how the cell phone glued to your ear caused you to significantly overreact to every single stimulus you encountered, resulting in comical mashing of your brakes every time a squirrel dashed out of a tree...

Stopping in the middle of the intersection, with no oncoming traffic, and waiting for the light to turn completely red before proceeding was a nice touch, too. Nothing I like better than being stranded in the middle of a busy intersection because you can't stop discussing last night's "American Idle" show...

People. Can't live with 'em... Pass the beer nuts...

That is all.

GMAFB...

One of the stories on the morning news (sandwiched in between "ALL KENNEDY TUMOR ALL THE TIME") was a story about "obesity discrimination" - a tearjerker about how poor overweight people faced discrimination in their daily lives, and how legislators were making noise about adding weight to the list of "thou shalt not discriminate against under penalty of onerous .gov regulations".

Folks, we have gone off the fucking rails here. Obesity is, with very few exceptions, entirely a lifestyle choice akin to smoking cigarettes or abusing alcohol. I know. I've been there, done that, got the XXXL t-shirts to prove it.

Passing legislation to insure that overweight people can't be discriminated against is assinine. It's yet another useless .gov piece of feel-good bullshit whose only purpose is to get the .gov camel's nose even further into our personal tent.

If you feel discriminated against because you're overweight, join a gym. Take a walk. Put down the triple latte and pick up a Diet Coke. Take action.

Don't expect the FedGov to swoop in and save you from your own choices. That's not its purpose. It shouldn't be its purpose. You shouldn't WANT the FedGov to make choices for you - that's the hallmark of a totalitarian regime.

You want change? Eat less. Exercise more. Make informed decisions as to what you cram down your piehole. But don't go crying to the .gov about how mean ol' corporations won't hire you.

Yep. The only thing worse than a reformed smoker is a reformed lardbutt... ;)

That is all.

Conflicted...

On the one hand, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

On the other hand, my worst enemy never killed a person through their own drunken negligence, nor spent a lifetime in the Senate working to steal my money and use it to buy votes for their re-election...

That is all.

Rally, Couch Potatoes!

...Because, apparently, you're good for Gaia...

Walking does more than driving to cause global warming, a leading environmentalist has calculated.

Food production is now so energy-intensive that more carbon is emitted providing a person with enough calories to walk to the shops than a car would emit over the same distance. The climate could benefit if people avoided exercise, ate less and became couch potatoes. Provided, of course, they remembered to switch off the TV rather than leaving it on standby.

Heh. Heh heh heh. Heh heh heheheheheheheheheheheheh...

Listen closely, if you will, for pointed little heads exploding...

That is all.

Blocked...

Sorry folks. Tons 'o' stuff going on right now, including some personal issues that I'm not at liberty to discuss.

Will try to have more later.

That is all.

Ugh...

Monday? Check.

Still aching? Check.

Traffic sucked big hairy donkey balls again? Check.

That is all.

Oh, My Aching...

...everything...

Yesterday was the Cub Scout Annual Fundraiser. We collected various electronics for recycling, a fundraiser we ran last year with excellent success. This year, we eliminated the middleman and contracted directly with the recycling company, which meant that the Scouts took home a larger percentage of the haul.

With the advent of the digital broadcast coming next February, people were turning in their old TVs in droves. We took in literally hundreds of TVs, from several ancient Zeniths that looked like they dated to the 1950s to some flat panel (not flat screen) TV/DVD combos that I was sorely tempted to put in the back of my truck (hey, if I bring it to my house and use it, it's getting recycled, right?)

Items we took in included:

• TVs
• Air Conditioners
• Dehumidifiers/humidifiers
• PC CPUs and monitors
• Microwaves
• Scanners, printers, and other assorted computer peripherals.

We filled a 24' box truck three times. And still had to use our personal vehicles to get the last few items to the recycling center.

My entire upper body feels like I've got 5 rounds with Mike Tyson.

But the Cub Scouts took in a large chunk of cash yesterday, which allows us to continue to underwrite a lot of the activities that they would otherwise have to pay for. A good chunk of the Scouts will get to partake in activities they would normally miss because of the money we raised.

So it's a good hurt. I feel really good, in spite of my aching muscles and sore back.

Life is good. And that is all.

Friday Gun Pr0n #59

Today's Gun Picture is yet another interesting gun in the armory, one I came across whilst retrieving last week's Model 1897.

I'll be damned if I know what this even is - it's a spanish knock-off of a S&W early model hand ejector, looks to be roughly copied from the old "I" frame. It's a six shot .32 S&W with a 5" barrel and a cheap nickel plating job that's flaking off around the cylinder release.

This was also one of the guns that I inherited from Grampy. Grampy had a lot of old guns in his possession, some received as "payment" (partial or full) for tabs run up in the diner he ran in the 1930s and 40s. Grampy wasn't someone to let people go hungry, whether they could pay their bills or not, and was willing to work on the barter system if that's all someone had to offer. He obtained a number of goods and a handful of firearms in this manner, often writing off a debt of hundreds for a gun worth $20. That's who he was.

And that's one of the reasons I'm proud to carry his name; why I remain in Massa-fucking-chusetts despite the ass-raping that conservatives and/or gun owners frequently receive in this state. My house sits on land my grandfather bought in the last century, land he owned for feed stock for his animals and, when things got tight, to sell as needed. He held a few acres in reserve for his family, and doled them out as his kids (and those of his brothers) grew up and moved out on their own.

When it came time for me to build, there were only a handful of lots left. Of the three of us that got land, I was the only grandchild to build a house - the other cousins waited for my grandmother to pass away so they could sell to developers.

They are dead to me.

There may come a time when I can convince the Mrs. to move. But as long as I can look in my gun safe and see the guns my grandfather gave me, as long as I can reconnect with the man whose name I carry (and passed on to my son); there's incentive to stay.

It'd be a damned shame to let the filthy communists win this one.

That is all.

Falling... With Style

Swiss Man Flies With Own Wings

Saw this on the news this morning, and the very first thing I thought of was "He looks like Buzz Lightyear!"

Yeah, I've seen "Toy Story" and "Toy Story 2" about 700 thousand times...

Next thought was "that's really fuckin' cool!"

Followed by "I'd be as likely to try that as I would to have monkeys fly out of my own ass, then carry me to the polls to vote for Obama"...

That is all.

34%...

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Milestone...

Almost missed this one.

This past Saturday was a pretty significant milestone for me. It represented a full year of maintaining my goal weight - I went below 180 lbs. the second weekend in May of 2007, and was happy to note that I am *still* at that same weight a year later.

This is nothing short of monumentous for me - I've never kept any weight off for more than a couple of months or so. I'd done so-called "yo-yo" dieting off and on through high school, college, and after, more or less giving up when I hit 30.

Apparently changing how I ate was more important than changing what I ate. Who knew?

That is all.

Monday Morning Musings

Man, I blinked and another weekend flew by...

On that note, some random brain drippings thoughts before I jump in the fire...

• 47ºF leaving the house this morning. Not quite the low 30ºs of last week, but still way too freakin' cold for mid-May... I am not a happy camper that my furnace is still kicking on, especially with home heating oil approaching $4/gallon. I'm going to have to look into heating my house with something less expensive, like Faberge eggs or spotted owls...

• Saw on the news this morning that Boston Mayor "Mumbles" Menino is spearheading a "Bay State Bike Week". Two things immediately sprang to mind: 1. Where does the mayor of Boston get off proclaiming a state-wide anything; and 2. They claimed that Mumbles was riding his bike in this event, yet provided no footage. One can only surmise that they couldn't keep hizzoner upright long enough for stills...

• Speaking of bike week, only one month until Laconia. Woo Hoo! Time to give the ol' scoot a cleaning and a shining...

• Last up: Idiot. Someone please explain to me exactly how one forgets that one has a loaded gun in their carry-on luggage? I mean, a bottle of water, maybe. A tube of toothpaste, sure. A loaded gun? Idon'tfuckin'thinkso... And besides that, a .22LR? Dude, seriously...

That is all.

Chip Off The Ol' Cup...

Couldn't resist sharing this one...

So I'm watching my son's baseball game, and he's the catcher this inning. It's really cute seeing him all swaddled in full catcher regalia: Face mask, chest protector, knee pads, etc.

One of the "pitches" (it's AA Little League - the coach of the team that's up batting does the pitching) came in a little low and hit him, well, below the belt. Fortunately, the chest protector is cut low for just such a situation, so he was unhurt.

He turns, looks into the bleachers at me, and yells (at the top of his lungs)

"Good thing I was wearing my cup, dad!"

It took me a full two minutes to stop laughing...

(Back story: The first time he wore his cup to practice, he HATED it. It didn't fit right. It chafed him. It made him look funny. Yadda yadda yadda. I tried to impress upon him just how important it was to wear the cup, and we finally hit on a compromise - it involves multiple layers of undergarments; it's best not to ask...)

That is all.

Friday Gun Pr0n #58

Here's something from the waaaay back corner of the safe:

Yes, that's an honest-to-goodness, original Winchester Model 1897 pump-action shotgun. It's chambered in 16 gauge, which is unfortunate as it's rather hard to find (okay, it's hard to find cheap, like 12 or 20 gauge). The serial number puts the date of manufacture sometime around 1911-1913, which is about right.

What's interesting is the 24" barrel - most sources put the standard 16 gauge barrel at 28", with 30" and 32" options available. The "trench guns" of WWI were 20" barrels. I haven't been able to find any information on 24" barrels, though. In any case, this is a really cool old shotgun, a Browning design that looks as good today as it did over 100 years ago.

Might have to pick up a repro (with bayonet mount, natch) in 12 gauge as a shooter...

That is all.

Non-Friday Gun Pr0n...

My favorite librarian posts about her first pistol, a Bersa .380.

Ah, the .380 ACP. What a versatile round. I've got a teeny-tiny Kel-Tec P3AT that carries 6+1 rounds for a grand total of like 11 ounces, all the way up to a Makarov that carries 8+1 rounds at what's gotta be at least 2 pounds... I've also got a 13+1 Browning BDA, and Dad's got a Sig 232 (6 or 7+1, I don't remember off the top of my head).

Shot placement is key with the .380, as it's at the lower end of what I would consider acceptable power for a self-defense piece, so practice, practice, practice Breda!

And congrats. There's nothing like your first gun. My first firearm was a Ruger Security Six in .357 Magnum. My first pistol was the Russian Makarov in .380 ACP - so we got the same caliber for our first auto-chucker. 'Course, I got mine back when you were in high school... ;)

That is all.

Still A Teenager @ Heart...

...especially when there's 345 HP at the press of a pedal...

Come to a 4-way stop, I commit the cardinal sin of actually, y'know, stopping. My penance, apparently, was for the drivers on the other three roads to completely and utterly ignore the rules and continue to proceed, most of them without even slowing down. After three cars from each street had cut me off, I had had enough.

Authoritative application of the gofastinator, in reduced-friction environment, produces an effect known as "fishtailing". Sometimes confused with the old-school affectation known as the "posi-hop". Broke the rear tires loose, shimmied the back end side-to-side, then a split-second off the gas to bring it back straight and get-r-gone.

The look on the yuppie in the Saab's face was priceless. Worth the extra $3 in gas burned...

Yep. Deep down inside, I'm still 16 years old.

That is all...

AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!

Okay. Getting my ass kicked today. Trying to cram 8+ hours of work into 6 hours, with a 1.5 hour meeting to kick off the day. Ugh.

My brain hurts. Need coffee. More later, perhaps. Bringing the boy to a Cub Scout outing at the local fishwrap newspulper of record, so might have interesting anecdotes later. Or I may just jump into the paper rollers. Haven't decided yet...

That is all.

Talk About Timely...

A quotation in "The Federalist" e-mail yesterday (which I just read this morning), seems extra-fitting in light of the Adventures of Captain Buzzkill post earlier today:

There's no way to rule innocent men. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws. Who wants a nation of law-abiding citizens? What's there in that for anyone? But just pass the kind of laws that can neither be observed nor enforced nor objectively interpreted and you create a nation of law-breakers. - Ayn Rand

And there you have the esprit de Massa-fucking-chusetts in a nutshell. Ma-mama, we're all felons now...

That is all.

Captain Buzzkill...

It's time for another exciting adventure from your friend and mine, Captain Buzzkill.

Today's story finds Captain Buzzkill participating in a Cub Scout Leader's Meeting, where the subject of having Scouts attend the Memorial Day ceremony at the town hall was broached. Part of the ceremony is a 21-gun salute fired by town veterans (3 volleys of 7 men). Some of these veterans are WWII veterans, some Korean, some Vietnam. Not sure if there's any Gulf War I vets.

Anyhoo, one of the other leaders commented about how it's a hoot to see the WWII vets offering "shells" (meaning spent brass) to the kids after the salute.

Well, Captain Buzzkill would have none of that - you see, according to MA state law, that's a felony:

Residents must have an FID in order to purchase, possess, or transport a rifle or shotgun that is not a large-capacity gun; to purchase or possess ammunition or component parts of ammunition; and to purchase or possess defense sprays.

Emphasis from Captain Buzzkill. The State of MA requires a permit to simply possess as much as a single piece of brass, as it is considered a "component part of ammunition".

Captain Buzzkill was polite enough to wait until after the meeting to quietly mention to the person who had volunteered the information to inform him that he was describing a felony. The response was denial in its most pure form: "It's not illegal, they're blanks". When Captain Buzzkill gently informed him that it didn't matter, that even a blank was considered "component part of ammunition", the tactic was then switched to "but this ammo dates back to WWI!".

Captain Buzzkill had to admit that he didn't agree with the law; that he thought the law was an ass in this case; but that it was, in fact, the law.

He was then regaled by the person that "we had guns growing up in Maine, and the only law against them was you couldn't use the 64-round banana clip".

And yes, Captain Buzzkill did refrain from rolling his eyes *or* turning into the "magazine-not-clip" Nazi...

That is all...

Monday Morning Madness...

{gasping for air}

Okay...

Took my daughter for her kindergarten screening this morning. What was alleged to take "35, 40 minutes tops" (upon check-in) actually took an hour and a half, so I was super-duper extra rushed on the way into work (on the bright side, she did really well at the screening with the notable exception - not her fault of course - that she's apparently inherited my poor eyesight...).

Y'see, I foolishly expected an easier-than-normal ride to work (stop laughing). Y'know, since we were loooong past the school busses and morning gridlock of everyone else trying to get to work. What I neglected to factor into my calculations were...

{cue ominous Hollywood horror movie music here}

Attack of the Whiteheads!!! (Dunt-duh-DAAAAAAAHHH!!!!)

Oh yes. The Q-tips were out in force. Every Grand Marquis, Crown Victoria, and 300 was filled to the gunwales with lil old ladies out joyriding around, traveling at speeds approaching those of riding lawn tractors, but with pre-loosened fillings...

Joy of joys. C'est la vie!

That is all.

More "You Might Be A Gun Nut If..."

You might be a gun nut if:

You conscientiously flip the retaining hook over the paper knife in the office and think to yourself, puttin' on the safety...

That is all.

Gun Pr0n #57

I had planned on a completely different subject for today's gun pr0n (hellloooooo, next Friday!), when something pretty much fell into my lap:

This is a Seecamp LWS .32 ACP. It's a 6+1 capacity, straight blowback pistol chambered in the diminutive .32ACP chambering. It's not mine - it's my father's new pocket gun, and since I'm the resident gun nut, he asked me to get it ready for his first time shooting it.

And it's a good thing, too, because the trigger pull was gritty and needed quite a bit of massaging (basically cleaning and oiling). Seecamp cautions against dry-firing, and I immediately found out why - the precarious arrangement of how the trigger links to the hammer is jarred out of alignment rather easily.

Without having shot it, I can't say I particularly care for this gun. It's heavier than my P3AT; has the same capacity as the P3AT but in an inferior cartridge; is finicky about ammo (from what I've read, once again, I haven't shot it); and lacks sights completely - not even a top groove like the old .25ACP pocket pistols. And the safety is, IMHO, superfluous, decidedly NOT intuitive, and silly - see below.

Funny story time: I get a call this morning on my drive into work. It's my dad. There's a problem with the Seecamp; they can't get it to chamber a round. I talk to the president of the gun club who's shooting with dad, and instruct him to take the safety off to fully cycle the slide and chamber the round. It worked.

You know you're a gun nut when a retired cop and the president of a gun club consult you for advice on recalcitrant handguns...

That is all.

Potshots...

Some random thoughts bouncin' around the ol' skull today...

• It's May 1^st. It was 32ºF when I left to drop the kids off at school. Where's my Global Warming, Mr. Gore?

• Filled up the Ram this morning. Fucking ouch. $73 and it was only down to ¼ tank. Tell me again how we went to "War For Oil"? Fucktards.

• Got the Cub Scout Fishing Derby & Rocket Launch coming up next Friday. I spent a good chunk of my pre-teen and teenaged years positively fascinated by rockets and model rocketry (how many teenaged boys d'ya think know who Robert Goddard even is, let alone idolize him as much as Larry Bird?) Needless to say, I am seriously stoked. Also needless to say is that Daddy will be entering his own custom-built rocket. Heh.

• Got a question for the other motorheads out there: On Sunday the "Check Engine" idiot light came on in my truck. Now, it wasn't running rough or anything out of the ordinary, and there's several thousand reasons for the light to come on, so I just shrugged it off and called the dealership for an appointment to check it out. Monday night after work, I start the truck up and the light's off. Hasn't come back on since. Anyone ever heard of a "Check Engine" light going out on its own?

That's about all for now...