My silence
2 weeks ago
Recently, the good folks at Grass Roots NC have been trying to change a very bad codicil in North Carolina's Concealed Carry Law. In NC, you can't use your CCW to carry in any place that allows alcohol to be both sold and consumed. In other words, you aren't supposed to be packing when you go to eat at darn near any chain restaurant that serves sit-down meals. To us gunnies, the stupidity of this is obvious. Unfortunately, the overwhelming majority of the non-shooting public is horrified at the idea that people might be eating next to them at Ruby Tuesdays or Lone Star while armed. I've been trying to enlighten a few such folks of late, and I've found that it almost always comes down to the same problem: they don't understand the way things really work. Specifically, they think this would make it legal for the wife-beating drunk with 6 DWI's and a bad attitude to bust in with a pair of Colt Peacemakers, and the cops would have to say "Sorry, it's legal now- darn that CCW law!"
Here's the challenge: we have to enlighten more people. Some, of course, are beyond reason. No use preaching to the choir, either- bitch sessions at the local gun shop with those who already agree with us may feel good, but it's hiding in the foxhole as far as doing something about the problem. What we need to do, every chance we get, is point out the facts about CCW.
- The drunk you are afraid of can't get a CCW. Neither can the wife beater, if the victim has ever filed a domestic order against him (or her.)
- CCW holders are not wild eyed, paranoid gun nuts waiting for a chance to shoot somebody. It helps here to have a list of people you know (without naming names) who carry. My list includes several Doctors, medical professionals, former police officers, business owners, and retired or handicapped people. Not exactly Rambo, eh?
- The average CCW holder shoots more often, and shoots more accurately, than the average police officer. They are also far less likely to shoot an innocent person than a law enforcement officer in a sudden encounter.
- Perhaps most importantly, remember to tell them that only law abiding people obey laws. The drunk or domestic violence person we spoke about earlier won't be a bit bothered by a 'No Guns" sign or a law (that he's probably unaware of anyway.) Nope, they'll come right in, knife, ball bat, broken beer bottle or tire iron in hand even if they have no gun. And if Mr. or Mrs. CCW has been forced to leave the weapon in the car, guess what? You are all pretty much out of luck.
I know most people reading this already know all of that, and more. But try and remind yourself this week to educate someone who may be sitting on the fence. We've got a lot of things going against us right now, especially in Washington DC, so we can use every friend we can get. If every gunny could get just two other people to join us, we could win every fight on the horizon right now. Let's get busy.
Learning from other's mistakes, or, My First Appleseed Shoot does not go as Planned.
0 comments Posted by Mtn Man at 3:11 PMMy father was (and still is) fond of saying “my son, learn from other’s mistakes, you will never live long enough to make them all yourself.” That’s good advice, although I must add that if I could just learn something from all of the mistakes I’ve made in this lifetime I’d be the smartest person in the room. Unfortunately, I didn’t, and I’m not. Most recently I got to learn the hard way a few of those lessons involving being prepared in the use of a firearm. Those of you who enjoy learning from other’s mistakes, here is a golden opportunity. Those of you who just enjoy watching others screw up, enjoy.
As I posted earlier today, I recently was fortunate enough to find not only ‘a job’ but a serious career opportunity. Better still, in a world of accountant and liability lawyer driven employee handbooks and no-gun rules, I landed a job with an employer who makes me look like a novice shooter. On the job well less than a month, he takes the employees out to a local steak house for a brainstorming meeting, and announces that anybody who wants to go to the Patriot’s Day Appleseed Shoot on the weekend of April 19th-20th can meet at the shop that morning and ride together, and he’d pay the entry fee for anyone attending.
That last statement deserves its own paragraph. I just told you my employer believes enough in the second amendment, the benefits of firearm ownership and marksmanship training, to put forth a considerable amount of cash to pay for each and all of his employees to go get rifle training over the weekend. Perhaps there is hope for the future.
Needless to say, I took him up on the offer. Since I live a bit distant from the range mentioned, I opted to go for a nearby hotel and went down the night before, and met up with everyone else at the range Saturday morning. Although I have been around firearms since I was a kid, and a member of the ‘gun culture’ since the term got coined, I’ve had very little formal training at all. Save for some police rookie school training, a CCW course, and the occasional tip from my favorite gun store proprietor, I can’t think of any formal training. So, I was a bit nervous, wondering how badly I’d shoot in front of some other shooters, many of which were obviously better prepared and experienced. Around 50 participants (or “Cooks” as Fred likes to call them) had parted with hard-earned money with the intention of becoming “riflemen.” I was hoping one of the people earning that title would be me.
Sadly, I had a few things working against me. First, despite having my fair share of long guns available, I did not have a single one that met the complete list of needs stated for the course. Second, having had little time to prepare for the event on such short notice, I’d not even had time to read the booklet to prepare myself. Last, and worst of all, I’d only had a few days to gather gear together from the list on the Appleseed website, and had hastily dumped the entire mess in the trunk of the car after work just prior to leaving home for the trip. I knew that inevitably there would be something forgotten, or something would go wrong. But I figured I’d improvise, adapt, and overcome. Of the list of recommended gear, the only major bit of kit I’d neglected to bring was the elbow pads, but I had purchased a nice shooting mat from higher than crap cheaper than dirt, and also had my trusty GI issue sleeping bag foam pad to put under it. I figured I could live without the elbow pads. Firearms were a bigger problem: the recommendation from people who had been before was either a M1 Garand or other similar battle rife with adjustable sights, or a .22 LR semi-auto with plenty of spare magazines. I own neither. I have an AR-10 flat top with a nice scope on it, but no iron sights for it at all. I have boo coos of .22 rifles, but all are tube fed, from the but stock- I didn’t want to show up with one of those. I own one bolt-action .22 LR, but only owned 2 5-round magazines and one 10 rounder for her, which I wasn’t sure would be enough for the number of rounds to be fired during the course. Still, it is the best shooting rifle I own with iron sights, so even being a bolt action it went into the car as a backup. I also had an AR-15 I’d recently purchased just before the election panic, although I’d only put a few magazines through the rifle I felt it to be reliable and accurate- plus I have plenty of magazines for AR’s. So it became my primary choice. Lastly, I had borrowed a genuine M1 Garand from a good friend, complete with a period web belt with full complement of clips loaded for same. This would be the obvious rifle to use, except for one thing: the ONLY ammunition available for the Garand was on that web belt. I don’t have any 30-06 rifles, therefore I had zero ammunition for same. A quick check of my local gun shop showed buying ammo would not be possible- even if I could have afforded it (I couldn’t) the only loads available on such short notice would have been lighter, hunting style ammo, which he wasn’t even sure would cycle the action. No time to order online, even if the panic buying hadn’t dried up the supply. (it’s getting scary going to every ammo supplier you know of and getting the same story: out of stock, no backorder)
So, to recap: I have a M1 with limited ammo, a AR-15 with plenty of ammo and magazines but a standard GI sling (not recommended) and a bolt-action .22 with only 3 magazines with total capacity of 20 rounds. I have a nice new shooting mat plus a GI sleeping bag pad, but no elbow pads. I have a positive attitude and am really looking forward to improving my marksmanship skills.
I was about to have quite possibly the most fun time shooting I’d had since my first .22 on the farm, but not without first learning some valuable lessons on ‘being ready.’
The Appleseed format should be familiar to most shooters, if not check it out here or read Fred’s column in any issue of Shotgun News. I was lucky enough to be shooting at the original ‘Appleseed’ range in Ramseur, NC. Very nice range, the long range has berms at 200, 300, 400, and 500 yards, with pop up targets no less. For the first day, however, we’d be shooting at the short range, sighting in at 25 meters on the 100-200 yard range. First the inevitable signing in process, figuring out which spot to shoot from, and gearing up from the trunk of the car, minus rifle- safety meeting made it clear no one was to bring a rifle to the line until authorized to do so. It’s always good to see safety taken seriously. I’d spoken to the range boss, and he told me to bring the rifle I was most familiar with and could shoot the best. That would be the AR-15, so I brought some gear for it to the line. First up was a well delivered and interesting history lesson on the significance of Patriot’s Day, and the shot heard round the world. WHERE WERE THESE LESSONS WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL? I’d pay real money to get this bunch into the local school systems to combat the idiocy being taught to the poor brainwashed sheep hearded through the system now. Next up, just to get everyone ready to go, would be a 13 round (representing the 13 colonies) live fire at easy targets- ‘redcoats’ on a white background. I loaded thirteen rounds into a 20 round magazine, waited for the command, and heard “FIRE.”
CLICK.
There is nothing as loud as a “CLICK” when you were expecting a “BANG.” I could feel my blood pressure spike about 30 points. Cleared the round, rechambered, target picture, squeeze trigger… CLICK. Again. Click. This is not good. The other shooters are about half way through the 13 rounds. Clear, tap, reseat magazine, hit forward assist to make sure bolt is in battery, yank on the trigger because I’m frustrated by now… CLICK. OK, my rifle is not working, and I’m not going to get off 13 rounds, so let’s figure out what’s wrong before we get to serious shooting. Check fired rounds. Light or zero primer strikes. OK, firing pin is not hitting primer. Simple enough. I pull the bolt out as the rest of the group stops firing, and take it back with me to the picnic table behind the yellow line. I was not aware that this was not permitted, and a safety instructor corrected me, but shortly after I got permission to try to correct the problem. Obvious first thing to check was the firing pin, it was protruding properly with bolt in position and pressure applied to the rear. Pulled it out, it had some light oil residue on it, but certainly not enough to keep it from movement. Wiped it down, sprayed the bolt with CLP, reassembled, just in time to get down for the first string of sight in targets. Prone position, sight picture, squeeze… CLICK. We shan’t dwell upon thoughts or words that went through my mind this time, let us just say I was not well pleased. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had a firearm not go ‘bang’ when I’ve pulled the trigger, so having one fail on me at a critical time is worse than frustrating. Fortunately, I have other options. I was about to switch over to the bolt-action .22 LR, and in fact had swapped the AR for it and had laid it on the firing line when my employer stepped up and offered me the use of a beautiful match-grade M1 Garand for the day- with ammunition. Those of you with lesser employment options, I feel your pain. This is my definition of a ‘good employer.’ I accepted his offer before he could change his mind, got set up just in time to hear the command of ‘load for 10 rounds.’ I had never before seen a Garand clip for 2 rounds, but it was pretty obvious how it worked, so I loaded it and one for 8 rounds, and was good to go. This time, I got a satisfying BANG and felt the welcome recoil of the bigger rifle when I pulled the trigger, and to my utter surprise found when we checked targets that I had put all rounds in the prescribed 1” squares on the target. Not bad at all for a new rifle with no warm up time, and surplus ammo. Things were getting better. Better yet, I was learning things I’d heard about but never tried. High on that list was the proper use of a military sling, which to be honest I had doubted the use of. Not any more. The safety boss and coach on my end of the firing line was a motherly woman named Jennifer, who while not correcting me for forgetting to put in a chamber flag or having the rifle on safe spent her time reminding me to keep my elbow vertical under the stock and properly using the sling to increase accuracy. If you have not learned this skill yet, by all means try a Appleseed shoot. This alone is worth the money spent. This continued until the first break, where I got to meet some of my fellow shooters, and I was not at all surprised to find them to be unfailingly polite, nice, salt of the earth people. I am not sure where all these potential terrorists the homeland insecurity types are looking for are at, but they certainly aren’t to be found where they insist on looking. Back to shooting, and I’m learning the hard way the other big mistake I’ve made for the day: I really, really, should have found a pair of elbow pads. Even with the double padding from the shooting mat and foam pad, I’ve skinned my elbows pretty good, and the day isn’t half over. I don’t notice much, as I’m having so much fun. Either from fatigue or age however my groups are getting larger, but not embarrassingly so. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent this much time firing prone, and I’ve never been one to shoot from the sitting position, but for a middle aged fat guy I’m not doing badly. And as much as everyone wants to fire perfect groups in front of the other shooters, this isn’t the idea: you are supposed to learn from mistakes, not be perfect. In this respect I learned a lot. I have a tendency to allow my support arm elbow to move ‘out’ which gives diagonal groups (from high left to low right) and coupled with improper breathing control (you should not hold your breath, as I have often made mistake of doing, but time the trigger squeeze to have the tigger break as you have fully exhaled and before inhaling.) Coupled together, I got a couple of groups that looked like a line from a tic-tac-toe game. This is good, now that I know what I was doing wrong, I know how to correct it. As we say in the repair business, you can’t fix it until you know what’s broke.
For those of you that are sitting back laughing heartily at the AR-15 failures, and wondering when I’ll get a ‘real’ rifle like a Garand, I have one more lesson to pass along. Ye old wonderful M1 started having problems near the end of the day. The mil-surp ammo had been around a long time, and was producing some heavy smoke with each shot. Also, some of the rounds near the bottom of the can had some green corrosion. For what ever reason, during the last strings of fire it began to have problems. I got a good crash course on clearing malfunctions, but near the end I was having more fail to fires and misfeeds than rounds fired. So I guess at least for now I’m a cook in Fred’s eyes, but not to worry- I will be back, and I will be back with better preparations and with knowledge of what to expect and how to be ready. (yes, that will include the addition of an M1 to the arsenal) And that, friends, is exactly why I went down there: to learn from mistakes, both my own and others. I learned the lessons well, and I am a better shooter for it.
Thanks Fred, you are a true patriot in the truest sense of the word. Keep up the good work. As is my new employer, a pity we don’t have more folks like him in the business world.
Rescuing a harmless reptile, Or, How to get a couch for free
1 comments Posted by Mtn Man at 10:07 AM
Before I get back into the hot and heavy topics of the day, with your kind indulgence I’d like to warm up to writing posts again with another story from the past, on a topic that is near and dear to me. Also, this is a good subject for this time of year, as the warm weather brings humans into contact with wildlife of all sorts-sometimes with amusing results.
I have, like most normal people, a great respect and love of the outdoors and wildlife. Unlike most ‘normal’ people, that respect and love extends to creatures not everyone cares about- such as possums, turtles, and snakes. It never ceases to amaze me at the reaction you can get from otherwise normal people by simply uttering the scary word ‘snake.’ A few of these people can be educated and overcome this irrational fear, but a lot of them are so emotionally terrified they can’t be reasoned with logically. (think Obama supporters) I suppose I might have ended up a ‘snake hater’ like these sad people, except for the wisdom of my late grandfather, C.M., whom we called grandpa. Proud owner of a family farm, and distinguished member of the Virginia Aberdeen Black Angus Society, my dad’s dad didn’t learn about wildlife by watching PBS or walking down a well-tended ‘nature trail.’ Nope, we learned about these things by getting dirty, sweaty, and trying to keep a bunch of stupid bovines from doing stupid bovine things. When grandpa learned that I had, on instructions from my grandmother, killed a magnificent adult blacksnake in the back yard, he gave me a serious talk on how things worked, including a visit to the feed barrel in the barn, and lessons on just how much poop the average family of mice could produce in said feed barrel, how much disease they could spread, and how rapidly they could multiply. (Get a calculator sometime and figure it out- 2 mice, 4 or 6 offspring per month and each of those offspring going forth and doing likewise- it is incredible.) This done, I was forbidden to kill any more blacksnakes, God’s perfect and insatiable mouse trap. Also, due to a bad case of asthma growing up, it was impractical for me to keep a cat or dog inside the house- so when ever grandpa ran across a turtle while cutting or baling hay, I’d get to keep it for a few days before turning it loose again where we’d found it.
Ok, enough background. Free couch? Here’s how you get a free couch….
As a result of working with some local groups, I was on the police and Sheriff’s Department call list for animal complaints involving reptiles. Every spring I’d get a bunch of calls as snake-fearing home owners ran across a little guy just waking up from hibernation. I enjoyed doing this sort of thing, for the most part, and tried to educate those who called on the realities of dealing with harmless reptiles. On this particular night, however, I’d get an added bonus. The Sheriff’s department dispatcher called my house (this was well before cell phones) and gave me the address of an elderly lady well out in the county who had seen a HUGE snake crawl into her sofa. (They were invariably HUGE snakes, even the 14” hatchlings were several feet long when described on the phone.) I got there as fast I could, as the dispatcher had told me the lady was quite upset. I arrived at a small but neat home with the back door standing open. I knocked anyway, and a high voice laced with fear bid me to come in. I stuck my head in the door cautiously, and to my utter amazement observed a little old lady perched on top of her kitchen counter, balled up in a defensive position with a large straw broom in her hand.
“Uh, you must be the person who called about the snake…” I ventured….
“I SAW IT GO INTO THAT SOFA. IT’S IN THE SOFA” this reply delivered at slightly less volume than a 747 at takeoff.
“Yes ma’m, I’ll be happy to check that out for you. Would it be alright for me to turn the couch over and look inside it?”
“YOU AIN’T LEAVING TIL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
It was going to be an interesting night, I could tell that already. Often the problem on snake calls would be that the problem reptile would be long gone prior to my arrival, and no amount of conversation or education on my part would make the party who called feel any better about the situation. It looked like this would be one of those times. The lady was obviously very upset, well past the point of reasonable conversation, but I tried anyway as I pulled the bottom liner from the couch and matching chair, looking in vain for the source of her frustrations. After a reasonable amount of searching, I told her flat out that I believed the snake must have gotten out of the sofa before I’d arrived, and probably had gotten outside by now, thus no threat to her.
“I’VE NOT TAKEN MY EYES OFF’N THAT COUCH SINCE I SAW THAT SNAKE GO IN IT, AND IT HAIN’T COME OUT. AND YOU AIN’T LEAVING TILL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
“Ma’am’, I’ve looked closely inside both the couch and the chair, and I can’t find anything. I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to come back if you see it again later.”
“YOU AIN’T LEAVING TILL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
“I can’t find any snake in your couch.”
“THEN YOU TAKE THE COUCH WITH YOU.”
This was a nice couch- couldn’t have been more than a year or two old. But she was adamant. No amount of reasoning would change her mind. And, of course, she would not get off of the counter. That had to be getting cramped up there like that at her age. It wasn’t easy, moving and loading a couch and chair alone in the dark while trying hard to reason with a little old lady too terrified to be in the house with serpent-possessed furniture. But I did it. I left my name and phone number on the end of the counter, and asked her to call me when she wanted the furniture returned. She never did. I used that set for several years, and never once did anything more frightening than spare change come out of the bottom. I wonder sometimes how the little old lady explained things to the kids when they came over for Sunday dinner, and I have to smile. For what it’s worth, friends, remember this- anything you are that afraid of needs to be addressed. Go to the zoo, the nature science center, or google up a herpetological group in your area. Fear is overcome by training, and knowledge. Once overcome, it is no longer your master, but your servant. This is a good thing.
Yes, I still offer the service when needed. I’m also willing to help anyone willing to listen to overcome fear of reptiles or other creatures. Feel free to contact me if you need help.
Coming up later today: My first Appleseed shoot doesn’t go as planned- still learned a lot and had a ton of fun. (by 3 pm.)
I have, like most normal people, a great respect and love of the outdoors and wildlife. Unlike most ‘normal’ people, that respect and love extends to creatures not everyone cares about- such as possums, turtles, and snakes. It never ceases to amaze me at the reaction you can get from otherwise normal people by simply uttering the scary word ‘snake.’ A few of these people can be educated and overcome this irrational fear, but a lot of them are so emotionally terrified they can’t be reasoned with logically. (think Obama supporters) I suppose I might have ended up a ‘snake hater’ like these sad people, except for the wisdom of my late grandfather, C.M., whom we called grandpa. Proud owner of a family farm, and distinguished member of the Virginia Aberdeen Black Angus Society, my dad’s dad didn’t learn about wildlife by watching PBS or walking down a well-tended ‘nature trail.’ Nope, we learned about these things by getting dirty, sweaty, and trying to keep a bunch of stupid bovines from doing stupid bovine things. When grandpa learned that I had, on instructions from my grandmother, killed a magnificent adult blacksnake in the back yard, he gave me a serious talk on how things worked, including a visit to the feed barrel in the barn, and lessons on just how much poop the average family of mice could produce in said feed barrel, how much disease they could spread, and how rapidly they could multiply. (Get a calculator sometime and figure it out- 2 mice, 4 or 6 offspring per month and each of those offspring going forth and doing likewise- it is incredible.) This done, I was forbidden to kill any more blacksnakes, God’s perfect and insatiable mouse trap. Also, due to a bad case of asthma growing up, it was impractical for me to keep a cat or dog inside the house- so when ever grandpa ran across a turtle while cutting or baling hay, I’d get to keep it for a few days before turning it loose again where we’d found it.
Ok, enough background. Free couch? Here’s how you get a free couch….
As a result of working with some local groups, I was on the police and Sheriff’s Department call list for animal complaints involving reptiles. Every spring I’d get a bunch of calls as snake-fearing home owners ran across a little guy just waking up from hibernation. I enjoyed doing this sort of thing, for the most part, and tried to educate those who called on the realities of dealing with harmless reptiles. On this particular night, however, I’d get an added bonus. The Sheriff’s department dispatcher called my house (this was well before cell phones) and gave me the address of an elderly lady well out in the county who had seen a HUGE snake crawl into her sofa. (They were invariably HUGE snakes, even the 14” hatchlings were several feet long when described on the phone.) I got there as fast I could, as the dispatcher had told me the lady was quite upset. I arrived at a small but neat home with the back door standing open. I knocked anyway, and a high voice laced with fear bid me to come in. I stuck my head in the door cautiously, and to my utter amazement observed a little old lady perched on top of her kitchen counter, balled up in a defensive position with a large straw broom in her hand.
“Uh, you must be the person who called about the snake…” I ventured….
“I SAW IT GO INTO THAT SOFA. IT’S IN THE SOFA” this reply delivered at slightly less volume than a 747 at takeoff.
“Yes ma’m, I’ll be happy to check that out for you. Would it be alright for me to turn the couch over and look inside it?”
“YOU AIN’T LEAVING TIL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
It was going to be an interesting night, I could tell that already. Often the problem on snake calls would be that the problem reptile would be long gone prior to my arrival, and no amount of conversation or education on my part would make the party who called feel any better about the situation. It looked like this would be one of those times. The lady was obviously very upset, well past the point of reasonable conversation, but I tried anyway as I pulled the bottom liner from the couch and matching chair, looking in vain for the source of her frustrations. After a reasonable amount of searching, I told her flat out that I believed the snake must have gotten out of the sofa before I’d arrived, and probably had gotten outside by now, thus no threat to her.
“I’VE NOT TAKEN MY EYES OFF’N THAT COUCH SINCE I SAW THAT SNAKE GO IN IT, AND IT HAIN’T COME OUT. AND YOU AIN’T LEAVING TILL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
“Ma’am’, I’ve looked closely inside both the couch and the chair, and I can’t find anything. I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to come back if you see it again later.”
“YOU AIN’T LEAVING TILL YOU FIND THAT SNAKE.”
“I can’t find any snake in your couch.”
“THEN YOU TAKE THE COUCH WITH YOU.”
This was a nice couch- couldn’t have been more than a year or two old. But she was adamant. No amount of reasoning would change her mind. And, of course, she would not get off of the counter. That had to be getting cramped up there like that at her age. It wasn’t easy, moving and loading a couch and chair alone in the dark while trying hard to reason with a little old lady too terrified to be in the house with serpent-possessed furniture. But I did it. I left my name and phone number on the end of the counter, and asked her to call me when she wanted the furniture returned. She never did. I used that set for several years, and never once did anything more frightening than spare change come out of the bottom. I wonder sometimes how the little old lady explained things to the kids when they came over for Sunday dinner, and I have to smile. For what it’s worth, friends, remember this- anything you are that afraid of needs to be addressed. Go to the zoo, the nature science center, or google up a herpetological group in your area. Fear is overcome by training, and knowledge. Once overcome, it is no longer your master, but your servant. This is a good thing.
Yes, I still offer the service when needed. I’m also willing to help anyone willing to listen to overcome fear of reptiles or other creatures. Feel free to contact me if you need help.
Coming up later today: My first Appleseed shoot doesn’t go as planned- still learned a lot and had a ton of fun. (by 3 pm.)
My apologies for the lack of posts in the past month. The good news is, I am once again gainfully employed- something 14% of the folks in my area can’t say right now. Better yet, I am working for an excellent small business that is more than firearms friendly- they are rabidly supportive of freedom and the second amendment. The bad news is, of course, that with any new job comes an adjustment period-hence the lack of posts. But hopefully I’m getting to the point now where I can spare a few minutes per day to post some things here, hopefully to amuse and entertain my legions of readers- both of you.
In addition to the new employment, springtime has brought quite a few personal things to blog about- in such diverse fields as auto racing, electronics, survival, and even my first formal firearms training course. I hope to get to all of those in due course. Of course we’ll also have to visit the unpleasant reality of the overreaching massive federal government expansion, and the porkulus package.
As always, I welcome your suggestions and comments. One thing is for certain- we won’t be lacking for things to talk about in the coming days, I just hope the story has a happy ending.
Thanks for reading.
If you are not already familar with the wonderful photography and pro-self defense works of Oleg Volk, by all means aquaint yourself with him at his website here.
Originally posted here.
My old grandpa said to me “son, there comes a time in every man’s lifewhen he stops bustin’ knuckles and starts bustin’ caps and usually it’swhen he becomes too old to take an ass whoopin’.”
I don’t carry a gun to kill people.I carry a gun to keep from being killed.
I don’t carry a gun to scare people.I carry a gun because sometimes this world can be a scary place.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m paranoid.I carry a gun because there are real threats in the world.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m evil.I carry a gun because I have lived long enough to see the evil in theworld.
I don’t carry a gun because I hate the government.I carry a gun because I understand the limitations of government.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m angry.I carry a gun so that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life hatingmyself for failing to be prepared.
I don’t carry a gun because I want to shoot someone.I carry a gun because I want to die at a ripe old age in my bed, andnot on a sidewalk somewhere tomorrow afternoon.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m a cowboy.I carry a gun because, when I die and go to heaven, I want to be acowboy.
I don’t carry a gun to make me feel like a man.I carry a gun because men know how to take care of themselves and theones they love.
I don’t carry a gun because I feel inadequate.I carry a gun because unarmed and facing three armed thugs, I am inadequate.
I don’t carry a gun because I love it.I carry a gun because I love life and the people who make it meaningfulto me.Police Protection is an oxymoron. Free citizens must protect themselves.Police do not protect you from crime, they usually just investigate thecrime after it happens and then call someone in to clean up the mess.Personally, I carry a gun because I’m too young to die and too old totake an ass whoopin’.…author unknown (but obviously brilliant)
That pretty much sums it up for a lot of us...
The local Newspaper reports today that traffic deaths are down somewhat, and the obligatory 'expert' attributes this decline to high gasoline prices and people driving less. I'd like to point out that the article speaks only in the most general terms, giving little specific information on numbers, or even percentages. No specific traffic 'accident' is ever mentioned, nor are specific 'victims.'
For the hoplophobic folks out there, I'd like for you to take a minute and compare such coverage to your average 'gun death' story. For starters, you will observe that you pretty much hear about every single person who is affected by a criminal with a gun in the story. You will also hear about shootings, or attempted shootings, or people who may have been thinking about shooting, all over the entire country, and lately in Mexico as well. Relatives will be tearfully interviewed, questions will be asked about 'how could this have happened' and 'why doesn't somebody (the government, of course) do something?'
Now, check out the nearest story about a traffic death. Quite a difference, wouldn't you say? As a former (and still part time) professional driver, let me say first I hate seeing the word 'accident' used as frequently as it appears in traffic death stories. An accident, by definition, is something that could not be prevented. Outside of a bit of the space station crashing onto the interstate or an earthquake, most traffic situations are quite avoidable if you drive with care. The tens of thousands of bodies mangled and killed on the highways each year are almost always the result of someone driving like an idiot. Often, said idiot has a long and storied history of violations and accidents, more than a few are driving with a revoked- or never held- license.
Let's try this sometime: the next time we have an 'assault vehicle death' let's ask the Newspaper why they didn't interview every relative who just lost a loved one, or why that particular car isn't banned for being a threat to public safety. Ask why such a car owner was allowed to go to any dealership without a government background check and allowed to purchase any high capacity SUV without any waiting period, training, or being fingerprinted. Yeah, I'm serious. Be sure and point out that if you added up every single person killed by an 'assault weapon' by a civilian in the history of the United States, you'd still not equal even a single year's motor vehicle deaths.
One of the biggest enemies to freedom in the current political climate is the socialist media. A close second is the public indoctrination school system. The two are closely related. Fortunately, both of these groups are populated mostly by cowards. They will back down if confronted by a large dose of public opinion. That's where the common folk have failed. You need to speak up, loudly, confidently, and often. Write a letter to the local paper, television news, or radio station. Very few people bother to do this, and that makes even a single letter stand out. Be polite, confident, have your facts carefully checked. Do this, and I promise you will walk a little taller, and feel a little prouder when you do.
If you have been watching the national or mainstream news much the past few months, you are probably about ready to call the United States of America deceased. You would have valid reason for doing so, what with the banks failing, GM either taken over by the Feds or bankrupt (who do you root for in that fight, anyway?) and of course the eviiil corporations on Wall Street and elsewhere that the elites would have you believe are the source of all our woes.
I'm here to tell you it ain't necessarily so.
Yeah, times are rough right now. But we've been through tough times before. I've spoken to some elderly folks about the great depression a great deal lately, and they have told me what we are doing now doesn't hold a candle to what happened then. Those folks survived, and brought us the greatest, wealthiest nation in the history of the world. Any historian will tell you that the War between the States in the 1860's pretty much determined what kind of nation we live in now. We lost a half million lives in that conflict, decimated the infrastructure and way of life of over half the country, and shredded a good portion of the Constitution. Yet we rebounded, overcame the difficult reconstruction period, and became a superpower in a little over one lifetime.
The trick in times like these is to not listen to those who preach gloom and doom. Instead, look for opportunity. Wouldn't you have liked to been around in 1930 and bought some stock in Boeing Aircraft? Or the dismal days of Jimmy Carter in the late 70's and foreseen an upstart company building software under the funny name of Microsoft? Yeah, hindsight is 20/20. But I promise you the American spirit isn't dead yet, and somebody out there is working on the next 'big thing.' The trick will be spotting it first, or coming up with it yourself, and being ready to jump on it. That's all there is to it- be at the right place at the right time. A lot of people are going to suffer mightily for the current problems. If you are not one of the people who bought a house you can't afford, or have way too much debt, however, there will be opportunities as well. As a baseball coach told his team once: "put the ball where they ain't." It's as simple as that.
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