Monday, November 3, 2008

Some Random Firearms Musings...

I’m sorta out of the loop when it comes to modern firearms. I see all kinds of wild looking shit out there, with all sorts of aftermarket thingies hanging off of them…flashlights, lasers, global positioning systems, bottle openers, Kleenex dispensers. I don’t get it. Guess I never will. I don’t like to have a lot of accessories. I’m old. Any weapon I own will not have “rails” on it. “Rails" are something choo-choos run on. Kinda.

I don’t have a problem with people who like to have many various and sundry dark-colored lumps attached to their firearms. All I’m saying is that it’s not my bag, baby!

I think I’d like to have a rifle like the one I used to hump while I was dabbling in all things Marine Corps-ish. Yes. Having an M16A2 service rifle would be cool, because I am very familiar with an M16A2, and familiarity is very important to me when it comes to firearms. And, not to gloat or anything, but shooting an M16A2 was actually something I was consistently good at.

I’ve noticed there are numerous M16-looking rifles out there today…so many that it boggles my mind. Some of them are made by companies I’ve never heard of. My M16 will have been manufactured by Colt, or General Motors. Anything less is suspect in my mind.

Some M16s shoot different sized rounds. I don’t think an M16 should fire anything but a 5.56mm. If your M16 shoots .22 long-rifles or other such pistol ammunition, your M16 is improper, and you should probably have it shredded or trade it in for a more prudent weapon.

My M16, should I ever get one, will not have a laser range finder or a grenade launcher or a satellite dish on it. No. But, it will have a bayonet lug, because bayonets are dark and foreboding and primal. Folks know that, if you are willing to get up close and personal and use a bayonet on a fool and skewer him as if he were a shish-ka-bob, then you are probably just a little bit crazy. Or something. Maybe.

Another rifle I would dearly love to own is an M1 Garand. My uncle has one. He should probably gift it to me, as I am his favorite nephew. Sorta.

Anyhoo…I have had Garand fever ever since I started playing Medal of Honor video games and saw the Band of Brothers TV series. The sight of heavy rates of .30 caliber rifle fire tearing German flesh asunder has stuck with me. I want to do something like that also, except with paper targets. I don’t have a problem with Germans now. They are cool in my book.

If I ever get a Garand, I will not put one of those funky grenade launcher attachments on it and poke a dummy grenade on the end of it, because it looks goofy. M1 Garands do not need accessories, and to do so is improper and imprudent. I will discuss this revolting subject no more.

Also, if I get a Garand, I’m going to need to find me a good friend who is knowledgeable about them and can show me how to field strip it and not get M1 thumb too. That’s one thing that kinda scares me about a Garand. I really don’t want my thumb crushed by the bolt. That would be below average. I guess that’s why the WW2 generation was so tough and cool. They could get their thumbs mangled into bloody pulp by their rifles and still soldier on like it was groovy and stuff.

There are also some handguns I would like to own eventually. I will list them for you now.

1) Ruger SP101: I don’t know why, but this revolver has always appealed to me. Maybe it’s because of its sleek and sexy lines. I know it only holds 5 rounds, and can be had in various calibers, but five rounds should be enough to handle any unpleasant situations unless the living undead should become a problem.

2) Browning High-Power: A classic and historic piece reminiscent of British or Canadian secret Special Forces, or something. Maybe.

3) Glock, or one of the other Plastic Fantastics that today’s youth rave about so much. I’m willing to try some new stuff. Pretty much.

So…those are some of my thoughts about firearms.

Interested readers should feel free to comment.

Happy and safe shooting!


Found this pic recently.
This is me and my big brother, back in olden times.
I'm holding the rabbit carcass.
My big brother is holding the Ithaca M-37 shotgun.
He always got to do the cool shit with Dad.
I got to hold the corpses!

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Running Some Errands Armed

Bloggers note: I recently applied for, and received, my License To Carry A Handgun (LTCH), permitting me to legally carry, either concealed or not (my choice), a handgun in the state of Indiana.


Because I felt like it.

Back in the early 1990s I had a similar permit, but I allowed it to expire because, at the time, I felt no real reason to carry.

Things change, and I decided recently to re-up...this time for a lifetime license.

Firearms are kinda funny, sometimes, in that they make people act sorta weird.




Ok. So I’m going to go to the corner Speedway station a block away to get some gas and smokes and a pack a Juicy Fruit. I know I gotta pack a rod, but the question is…do I go concealed or out in the open in front of God and his son Barack and everybody?

I decide to go concealed, because possible confrontation scares me…but which piece? Will it be my gold-plated Baby Desert Eagle, or my dayglo-pink Glock?

I decide on the Glock, because I’m feeling a little frisky and silly this morning, but now, I gotta decide on which kinda rig I’m gonna use to conceal and wear my gaily colored Glock. Should I go with the black nylon Uncle Mike’s shoulder holster with spare magazine pouch under a light jacket, or should I use my Gucci horsehide and rhinestone-studded pancake holster which hooks nicely on my pants belt and can be covered with my oversized tie-dyed commemorative 2004 Indy 500 t-shirt?

I decide on the shoulder holster because:

A) I can carry a spare magazine, and you never know when the shit’s gonna hit the fan or Al Qaeda’s gonna show up at one of the convenient stores of Speedway.

B) It’s just always more cooler to carry spare ammo and extra kit so you look like a private operator in Iraq if someone accidentally sees your stuff under your jacket.

3) I heard somebody make fun of Uncle Mike’s products. Uncle Mike is a close personal friend of mine and he’ll kick your ass too!

Next, I gotta figure out what I’m gonna do if I get pulled over by the cops on the way to Speedway, or, if there’s cops inside the Speedway flirting with the cashiers and getting free stuff and they see my gun…how am I gonna handle myself? What if they ask me about why I have a gun, or if I have a permit? Am I gonna get all uppity and say, “ ‘Cuz it’s my God-given Constitutional right, Barney. I KNOW you don’t have a problem with that…right? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now?”

Or, am I gonna be all nervous and shaky and polite and cooperative and patronizing and say, “Hi, Officer! I’m carrying a gun this morning! Yes sir, here’s my gun and ammo, LTCH, drivers license, social security card, a pint of blood, my nubile teenaged daughter, and…did you know that on December 14, 1984, I smoked some weed and tore the tags off of a new mattress…and…say, that’s a lovely shiny badge you have there. Did you shine it yourself? Thank you for your service. May I sniff your holster?”

I decide, “To hell with it. I’ll go out tomorrow.”

Who knew going to the convenient stores of Speedway would be such a hassle and require so many decisions to be made? Certainly not me before I became a gun nutter. I blame George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Halliburton, and Big Oil.

Thank God for his son, and that he will soon save us all and take care of us and fix all our problems. Heck, before too long, we won’t even need our guns any more, and we can just turn them in and be all happy and shit…

That’s what I think will happen anyways.



A proper vintage firearm

All-righty then...

I'm off work today so I can go out with my new permit and take care of some gun stuff and be cool. Sorta.

I throw the unloaded S&W .38 snubby into the car and head over to WallyWorld to make an ammo purchase. I need some 9mm ball and hollow points, some .22 long rifle, and some .38 ball and HPs for that empty snubby.

WallyWorld has everything but the HP 38s. Great. So I spend too much cash on ammo, then head over to Kinkos to get my LTCH copied/laminated.

Retard at the counter tells me he can't copy the license on pink paper because it's a form of ID. I say the State Police, Sparky. He starts to get all uppity, and I start to feel the urge to leap over the counter and gut him like a carp...but I don't...because I am a man of Gandhi...or Mandela...and I forgot my I tell him to just laminate the original and be done with it.

Soon, he is finished spitting on me while he talks and laminating my license and taking my $1.34...and I am on my way to Beech Grove Firearms to see if they have any rubber, Pachmayr-type grips for my snubby because aftermarket grips are uber-cool and the factory/stock wooden grips are too small for my massive hands...and you all know what massive hands mean...

Beech Grove Firearms didn't have any grips in stock, but we work out a super secret deal for some later, which I can't tell you about here now, and I buy some 38 HP rounds from them because they are groovy.

The guys in the shop are cool, even though they just about wore out my snubby as they looked at it and told me its glorious history and stuff.

They tried to sell me one of those new-fangled plastic or ceramic guns, but I would have none of it. I politely told them that it would be improper and imprudent for me to purchase a firearm made out of the same material as my mom's potted geranium container.

Then, I stole a butt-load of Beech Grove Firearms stickers and window decals, and I ran out of the store dodging a hail of gunfire. I was not wounded, thankfully, because the guys at BGFA are kinda like The Gang That Can't Shoot Straight. Maybe. It was worth it, though, because the entire world knows you rock and are cool when you have a BGFA sticker on your rig!

Now you know how my day out went.

How was your day?

Halloween Sucks

Man...I hate Halloween. I mean, except for hawt chicks dressing up even hawter for the occasion, Halloween has historically sucked for me.

I once got fired from an admittedly shitty job on a Halloween afternoon. That was fun explaining to the new wife at the time...

Now, I think Halloween aggravates me because strangers I don't even know come on to my property and expect me to give them shit I paid for...for free.

Halloween is kinda like a micro-organism of this country.

Maybe. at the Zoomie homestead, we have rules for the proper conduct and execution of Halloween festivities.

I will enumerate those rules for you now:

A) You must knock on the front door. You can't just stand there, and expect me to derrick my fat ass outta the recliner to answer an un-knocked-upon door. Otherwise, you and I are gonna just stare at each other through the window of the storm door...and very much of that is gonna make me reach for a weapon of some sort.

B) You must clearly state your intent when I answer the door by exclaiming, "TRICK OR TREAT!" a loud, boisterous, enthusiastic, and commanding manner. Do not whisper. I might get aroused. Nobody wants that. The amount and quality of sugary snacks I pour into your goodies bag is directly proportional to the quality of your statement of intent.

C) You must be in costume. If you look like a big bowl of ass-soup, you will walk away candy-less. The explanation of, "I'm disguised as a mouthy teen-ager," will not apply.

D) You must be of appropriate age. If you need a shave or a Midol, you will be turned away.

5) If you receive a sugary largess from me, a "Thank You" is in order and always appropriate and appreciated. If I don't get one, I will try to pry a "Thank You" from you by saying "You're Welcome" in a sarcastic tone. It's the way I roll. Polite and mannered youth are appreciated.

6) If you are turned away for any reason, by either me or the wife, a hasty and silent retreat off the premises is highly recommended. I will not hesitate to follow you and assist you in your efforts to vacate my property. I am not a scared and cowering homeowner intimidated by angry and disgruntled youth. The sooner you know that, the better.

I have been known to patrol the grounds long after the time for official Halloween festivities has ended.

One just never knows how many disgruntled former candy beggars are out there lurking in the shadows...waiting to smash your punkin or soap your windows or set the barn afire.


Halloween sucks.

Pretty much.