Shooting the S**t

 Got an invitation from a neighbor to try out his new .44 lever action and reloads, as well as his father's Winchester Model 94 that he'd found when his father passed, and just got around to loading up cast rounds for.

Shooting other people's guns? Hell yes, I'm up for that.

Of course, courtesy demands I bring toys to share, so an AR and S&W Highway Patrolman went into the truck for the trip to the family acreage. Shooting is informal compared to my local range. The backstop is the far bank of the creek, 150 yards from the well pump house, which also serves as the shooting rest. Which leads to less than ideal sighting in with a new never-rifle using an 8-inch shoot-n-see target on a piece of 2x2 cardboard with a couple hundred bullet holes in it.

So what does one do when tired of shooting a small target with poor feedback? Horse shit. Stands out great against yellow and green grass, misses are easily seen by the chunks of dirt flying in the air, and hits are, well, very easily seen as the material flies better than the dirt does. Revolvers at 100+ yards keep it interesting.But there are things more engaging blasting horse apples at long distances. Like having a copperhead pop up while crossing the creek recovering targets at the end of the day.

 Two men emptying revolvers into water a couple feet away, without prior planning or coordination, is very interesting indeed.

Ugly Gun Sunday

The B-VI-307.

There's No Accounting For Taste

From another car show last night in the downtown area. Apparently once a month, there's a "night out" event with various vendors, merchants, and artists displaying their stuff. Don't know that I've ever seen a camouflage VW before.

"Drink Responsibly"

Nothing quite says it like putting the ping-pong balls on the front of the cooler. This image was taken less than 200 yards from where I live. And for that store's patrons, it's right in character.

Yeah, Nothing Strange Here

When I open a storage unit to check it out before our stuff arrives from the midwest, there are things I wouldn't be surprised by. Old boxes, newspaper, the occasional lost possum or angry raccon. What I don't expect is to open the door and see at least a dozen large boxes of mismatched, well-used high heel shoes. Had I walked into a serious fetishist's secret stash? Will there be blow-up dolls strewn throughout the back of the unit?

Returning to the storage office, the manager was irritated to find that the guy who rents five separate storage units for shoes was expanding his territory without paying. A quick phone call, and I was assured that I would be able to have a shoeless space within an hour or so.

As it turns out, the individual in question apparently collects shoes for distribution in Africa by missionaries. I can only think of one particular class of persons in Africa that would have a burning need for high-heeled shoes, yet are too poor to buy them. But better yet, who gets the collection of winter boots he also collects? Are there people in Kenya wandering about wearing used K-Mart pac boots in 100+ degree temperatures?

This place is going to be far more interesting than were I came from.

Heh

I'm not that bad..........no matter what The Wife says.

(shamelessly swiped from Mike Vanderboegh)

Everything or Nothing

So there's a bit of controversy about a pledge of allegiance down in Texas.

I thought the instructor's statement about the Mexican pledge activity being "a cultural thing" is interesting. To a degree, she's right. It is cultural. And much more. It's a pledge,or in other words, a statement of fidelity, oath, or promise.

Which means for this individual teacher that either these words mean absolutely nothing, or if they do have meaning, she is directing students to pledge allegiance to a foreign nation. I think it's more likely it doesn't mean anything to her. Reciting an oath to the symbol of a sovereign nation is simply an exercise. Because they're just words, and words don't mean anything unless you believe what you're saying, right?

Unfortunately, I suspect there's a lot of people in the US that believe that. Personally, I won't recite an oath to another nation. It's not an exercise to me. Words have meaning, and consequences.

That's one young lady who has my respect.

Granny Panties

Apparently "cougars" are morphing into sabertooths. I honestly don't believe that just being elderly necessitates wearing "old people" clothes. I personally have no intention a developing a cardigan sweater collection or strapping my pants to my ribs as I age. On the other hand: if you're hitting the latter portion of your seventies, is wearing leopard spot high-cut panties to your medical appointment really a good choice?

But It's Art, Right?

Did the publishers feel a need to mock the writers, or were they just dropping acid?

Seriously?

At least the video advertising has decent production values:

Gingercide

After seeing that, can you blame them?

Lord Of The Fleas

Spent a weekend recently with a bunch of other vets who are bikers. Sometimes that means lots of hours in the saddle, sometimes lots of hours sitting around a fire drinking beer. This time it was the latter, which is fine, but: the older I get, the more I've realized I can sit around drinking beer far more often than I can get out in nice weather in a new location and ride. Drinking beer is pretty consistent from place to place; new places often have new things to see. So in attempting to balance both, I drank beer late into the night, slept late, and rode in the afternoon. As the weather was marginal that day, The Wife and I stopped in at a large flea market by Lake Park, IA. And there were many interesting things to see.........

Fine metal working:

Really ugly children:
State of the art shooting accessories:

Folk art (I couldn't fit these on the bike):Interesting motorcycles:
And the people (I think) who ride them:

Does It Come With Special Sauce?

Courtesy of Cap'n Ken's, Lake Park, Iowa. Nothing like this on the menu first thing in the morning after staying up with a bunch of bikers swilling cheap beer 'til 0200. Me, I stuck with the biscuits and gravy that morning. I like my morning grease intake in a traditional form.

Captions Wanted

Have at it. Not a caption, but a personal impression: I'd swear I've seen that same expression in some images of Ernest Hemingway in later life.

It's The Ice Cream Man?

This was cruising around the park we camped in on the way home, pulling in kids every time it slowed down. First time I've seen a cargo van converted in to an ice cream truck; it made me think of this when I first saw it.

The piercings and tats didn't help either.

And Your Lithium Is Where?

The Wife and I were visited by the Spirit of '80s Survivalism Past last night. Or maybe just an old guy with a fetish for looking like Robert E. Lee and owning Boston Terriers. None the less, while we enjoyed Jack Daniels and rum (not in the same container) around the campfire, we were treated to a monologue of rare form. First were the hints of a dark past, supporting the Special Forces in Vietnam. Then the move into Black Ops communications support for the thirty years after that. Then the hinting of relationships with top men in the Pentagon, many of whom own the "at least 150 survival camps" within fifty miles of where we're camping right now. Several of whom have told Mr. Terrier that it's time to hunker down, with three to six months of grain, ammo, etc. Because the Fed's are planning to only support the major cities when things go down. But only long enough to get the Federal Banking cash out of those cities using the military to force their way through, so they can retreat to their Federal strongholds out in the rural areas, where they'll hold off the hordes of cannibal voters until things have settled down, and they can resume control.

OK, I exaggerated. He didn't use the word cannibal.

Nice dog, though.


(Note: I, for one, wouldn't be surprised to see things go all London-ish in several major cities over the next few years, especially if His Royal Highness the POTUS loses the upcoming election. But this fella had the whole ball of craziness going on.)

Neat, and No Thanks

If I could find a way to lug this back to my reloading room.....Reminds of the 7.62x54R; I'd love to put a wooden dummy round in it.



Tomorrow, Soylent Green Soup made from the leftovers.

Captain Libya, Defender of the Sands

Of course, this picture had the following immediately above it as the headline:

"US pays European groups $1 million to hunt for anti-aircraft missiles in Libya "

Good to see there's still some editors with senses of humor out there.

Mini-MASH

Yesterday I finally got over to the ANA side of the post, which is a major pain if you don't have duties there. Went to help drop off a piece of office furniture at the medical company, ended up staying an hour drinking multiple small cups of tea while we discussed through an interpreter why the female medic hadn't had several children yet, how to manage equitable attention amongst four wives, how the whole ANA medical company doesn't have access to even basic hand tools, and kicking out the Soviet Army in the '80s.

This was followed by an emotional demand by another unit's Solder to disarm her roommate, as she's convinced she's a psych case. Which led to an extended conversation on what you can and can't do, the purpose of documentation, what the chain of command is for, and why doctors don't sneak up on people in the barracks to do mental evals by force without documented cause.

Followed by a Soldier with a bad shoulder, who is convinced all the muscles are torn, although he has full range of motion, even if it is crunchy when he moves it. But his wife is a massage therapist, and she says his shoulder is "not lined up right", so why can't the doctors fix it? So drugs and therapy it is. Except he returned half an hour later to report someone had gone into his room, and stolen all his documentation of his shoulder injuries, as well as his prescription orders. Man, those local contracters are getting sneaky just stealing the good parts of the medical records.

Followed by a 2230 surprise visit by an ANA soldier with three gunshot wounds. He'll live, but he won't be sitting in any chairs for a while.

Little Bits of Stupidity.

Things that got my attention today:

The sergeant who thought it would be really neat to push a dead scorpion into a bottle, until he found out it wasn't dead (near miss).

The local national translator who was baffled by the fact that I wouldn't hand over Cipro anti-biotic pills so that he could take them prophylactically before he goes out to eat in the local village. There's a reason why antibiotics become ineffective, and taking two whenever you feel like it is one of them.

The third-world contractor who has diabetes, but is convinced it's due to evil spirits.

Love this place.