Perfect For Scraping Shit Off Your Shoes

This little beauty is only $40!

Fuck.

That's what I'll do with the forty bucks the shithead supposedly saved me on my taxes...buy me a gen-u-ine O'bummer, lead-infused, made-in-China grill scraper.

Maybe Moose-chelle will have a fucking coronary thinking about me flipping fatty burgers and bratwursts on my environment-destroying charcoal fired grille.

Y'all gotta check out Obama's Souvenir Shack on the interwebs.

It is awesome and chock full o' useful crap you won't be able to live without!

Stock up today! 

### 

Hey!

I just noticed something about the O'Sama burger flipper.

The handle end looks like it could double as a beer bottle opener...which means once you consume the beer, you could refill the bottle with gasoline and make you a groovy field-expedient Molotov cocktail.

Shit, man.

With utility like this, maybe this Commie spatula ain't such a bad deal after all:

-shit scraper

-burger flipper
-bottle opener

-fire bomb maker

I bet the Obama gang never thought of stuff like this before...

Yes.

Just call me Mr. Praxis and shit...

I Am A Bad Dad

At a family gathering recently, the banter turned political and I divulged to all that I was teaching my children that it was OK to cherry pick which laws we would follow and which laws we could ignore if it felt good and was convenient.

Yes.

Parties at my house are off the hook and uplifting affairs.

Anyhoo...my elderly mother, who also recently said, "I don't know you anymore," was aghast that I would tell my children such things.

The furrowed brow look was exquisite.

I replied, "Look...our government passes so many laws now that one can't step outside one's own front door without committing a felony."

"Besides that, our government doesn't adhere to its own laws.  Why should I?  Being a law-abiding citizen only goes so far when the laws are ridiculous, unprincipled, unfairly applied, and un-Constitutional."

"Therefore, I'll do what I think is right based on my principles.  After that, what happens happens.  I'll take my lumps, and hand out a few too, God willing." 

"WOLVERINES!"

"Who needs another beer?"

Mom just shook her head in horror and disgust.

Fine...that means more beer for me.

God love her.

I do too.

I wonder what my late father would think?

Sucks to be me, I guess, but when I'm not beating them, my kids think I'm a hoot.

Sometimes.

Maybe.

Here's Your Sign: Announcing The Hater Blog Award

The cool nice blogger kids get theirs...

...so I figured we who were raised by wolves and are a little rough around the edges deserved one of our own.

I don't give a fuck how many followers you have, and you can post it in your sidebar or some other place of dishonor or do with it as you wish.

I created and awarded this coveted medallion to those of you who do one or more of the following:  

-would willingly gut a fool like a carp.
-string multiple curse words together in a glorious fashion.
-could incite Mother Teresa to turn tricks with your writing skills.
-post mostly original content.
-use a blogger template layout with dark, threatening images and a background that is always mostly all black because it is intimidating and shows you mean business and are not to be trifled with.
-don't post cat pictures.
-dig guns but don't act like an asshole about it.
-exhibit a warped, demented sense of humor.
-make me think I'd like to drink beer and shoot the shit with you. 

Feel free to pass it on to anyone you please.

You don't have to link to anybody.

You don't have to give a fuck.

In fact, not giving a fuck is of paramount importance...

There are no rules, except for the rule that there are no rules.

I will get around to passing out more awards later, but right now I need to take a nap and then go to work.

Congrats to those who have already been honored.

You are in rarefied air, my friends.

Huzzah and shit...

###

I get the feeling some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  You fucking douche!  What's the reason for doing this?  Are you looking for attention?  Don't you have anything better to do?  You are super-geek!"

I suppose there may be something to this, and I will admit that there is an element of ego involved with publishing a blog thang.

Bloggers/writers naturally want other motherfuckers to read their shit and react.

Anyhoo...when I saw that Liebster Blog award thing getting passed around the intardnet, I thought it was interesting.

Then I thought I might like to receive some kind of blog award for doing what I do.

Then I got a little jealous.

Then I noticed that the bloggers who were receiving the Liebster Award were good folks who weren't vile and foul and didn't ruffle feathers too much.

Then I understood that I didn't get a Liebster Award because I am an asshole.

Then I decided to create an alternative blogger award, and generously present it to myself and other bloggers I appreciate.

That's all.

If the above explanation isn't good enough, I suggest reading my mission statement on the right sidebar.

Thanks for visiting.

M1 Carbine Stuff Follows Me Home

I was fortunate enough to recently acquire some vintage M1 carbine stuff from my uncle…magazines and ammo…but unfortunately, no rifle.

Dammit!

(This is the same uncle who generously GAVE me his M1 Garand a while back...and this is the same M1 Garand subsequently lost forever in a scandalous North Atlantic dirigible collision.)

Unk gave me about 200 rounds of vintage .30 carbine ammo of mixed manufacture.  Remington, Federal, and Winchester.

The ammo is in pretty good shape, and the few rounds that were showing some green corrosion cleaned up with a little Windex.

Some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  You dumb fuck!  You shouldn't use old corroded ammo.  Are you retarded?"

Fuck it.  I'll shoot the shit.  I ain't scared of nuthin'...

Except bees and wasps.  I hate those motherfuckers.

Anyhoo...Unk also gave me the following magazines:

1 x 30 round marked “Jay Scott”

1 x 30 round marked “N.V.S.” and “Japan” on the floor plate

1 x 15 round marked “CTQ” with the “T” stamped upside down (USGI)

1 x 15 round marked “II” with the “II” inside a circle (USGI)

1 x 15 round marked “N.V.S.” and “Japan” on the floor plate

I did a little intardnets research, and this is what I was able to discover regarding the magazines.

“Jay Scott”- A clearly marked commercial magazine sold by a company known for its handgun grip sales. Split back, no front roll crimp, square hold open follower, rectangular bolster. Well known for having dead springs. Stretching them doesn’t work as they collapse back rapidly when loaded. The followers are also poorly formed and folded and stick going up and down. They appear to be older commercial magazines simply stamped with the Jay Scott name. Definitely not a USGI magazine. Replacement of the follower and spring make them quite serviceable as the body is made well enough.

“N.V.S.”- Marked magazines are Japanese of a fairly high quality. They are split back but with straight cut sides. These magazines are not often seen. “Japan” may be added on the floor plate. Some reference is made to these being German, which is very doubtful since most of them have the “Japan” marked floor plates.

“CTQ”- The “T” is upside down.  J.L. Clark Manufacturing made this 15 round magazine for the M1 carbine manufactured by Quality Hardware & Machine Company.  This is USGI.  Cool.

“II”- The capital “I”s are inside a circle.  International Silver made this 15 round magazine for the M1 carbine manufactured by Inland.  This is also USGI.  Groovy!

The M1 carbine is another one of my “must haves,” and maybe this acquisition of bits and pieces will spur me on to get one.

M1 carbines are pretty salty these days though, so I looked around for anything else that fires the .30 carbine round.

Some of the most common:

Ruger Blackhawk Revolver

Thompson Contender

AMT Auto Mag

The only gun on this list I would realistically consider would be the Ruger Blackhawk because the cowboy revolver thing has always appealed to me.

Besides all that, I could go all "Red Dawn" and say something smart like "You lose!" right before I ventilate a Bolshevik fool.

The funky-ass Thompson Contender doesn’t do a thing for me, even though I have limited experience with it and have fired one in the past. 

The AMT AutoMag frightens me because I know nothing about it and I fear the unknown.  Also, it is ugly as fuck!

What I know for sure is that I think it's a crying shame to have all this shit and not be able to use it, and that the thought of having a handgun that shoots a carbine cartridge is pretty fucking cool.

But, with my luck, some goddamn commie midget will steal my shit as soon as I get it.

I hates me some commie midgets.

CZ75BD Range Report, Review, And Rant

Around Thanksgiving last year I had some birfday card money burning a hole in my pocket, so I decided I wanted another gun to replace all the guns that I lost in that calamitous sub-Saharan tsunami surfing incident I experienced.

What a surprise that was.

Way back several years ago when I bought my Glock23…which is unfortunately gone now…I looked at the fine CZ75 line of handguns, and I found them to be sexy, nice, natural pointers which fit my massive but delicate girlie hands beautifully.

(You all know what big hands mean.  Big gloves.)

A CZ75 would be my next purchase.

So a buddy and I drove all over town to at least six different gun stores, and I couldn’t find anything that really tripped my trigger and didn’t cost a fortune.

I saw one CZ75 in nickel, but everybody knows nickel-plated guns are for pimps, poseurs, and non-tactical pogues…so I said “fuck no.”

Then I said “fuck it” and looked around online.

Then I remembered I had a female intardnet buddy who worked at a gun store called Tomlinsons Shooting Supplies in northern Indiana.

Yes. 

I said female, but don’t go thinking I’m having some kinda sordid online affair with her or sexually harassing her or anything so that I can get free guns or reduced pricing on boom sticks. 

She is happily married, and so am I…and she has red hair and is frightening and gets easily riled and would think nothing of shooting me in the face with one of her many 1911s.

little red-haired girl

It was a purely professional business transaction between her and I, and no funny stuff took place unless you count the fact that she blew her nose on my new gun before she shipped it to me.

Yes.

Like all 1911 mavens, she is extremely mean and nasty.

Some of you might be saying, “Zoomie!  You are rambling!  Shut the fuck up and tell us what you bought!  Asshole!”

OK.

Czech it out.

It is a new commie CZ75BD, all-steel, 9mm, 16 +1, made in Czechoslovakia...and then shuffled off to Kansas City, Kansas.
 

I say “commie” because Czechoslovakia used to be part of the Communist bloc party of nations, but not so much anymore.    

I am told that my new CZ75BD is a lot like a Browning Hi-Power and/or a 1911, supposedly, but cheaper and more better and refined because the CZ company took the best parts of the Hi-Power and 1911 and mashed them all together to get what we have now.

Hell no it's not nickel-plated, but nor is is blued.

CZ does what is kinda like a paint thing to their tactical shit...a poly-coating of some sort.  It is tough as nails and seems impervious to solvents.

I understand that some of you might be thinking painting a gun is pure cheese-dickery, but this shit works.

Hell...I guess if it does ever chip, one could touch it up with a Sharpie!

I’ve heard of some famous gun cat named Colonel D.B. Cooper who likes the CZ75, but I don’t know too much about all of that.

The CZ75 series apparently is also used by a bunch of former Commie bloc party police and military, so if it’s good enough for them, it will probably be OK for me to use too when the apocalypse comes-a-calling.

The CZ75 I bought is the “decocker” version.

The term “de-cocker” is kinda emasculating, and I don’t want to be de-cocked, but once I looked into it I decided getting de-cocked wouldn’t be so bad because walking around with the hammer down on a loaded throat could get me de-cocked for real and I probably wouldn’t like that much.

So…I order and receive my new piece, and it sits for a couple of months until just last week when I finally get a chance to give it a test drive.

I’ve been busy.

Sue me.

I grabbed a couple hundred rounds of cheap WalMart Winchester white-box ammo and headed out to Indy Trading Post to try out their new indoor range.

My CZ ran without a hitch and was very accurate with no failures of any kind.

Silky smooth operation.  Sweet recoil.  A joy to hold and fire.

Here are a couple of my targets which were 7 yards distant. 

This is my first few magazines, and I sorta dumped them in an orgiastic frenzy of trigger yanking mayhem.

This is my next couple of magazines using proper techniques and stuff.  Note how I blasted dude's heart out his back and then pumped his stupid head full of holes.  I am a stone cold paper-punching bad-ass!

The de-cocker mechanism was a little stiff, but worked itself out nicely after a few manipulations.

I love manipulating my de-cocker now.

Sorta.

Some of you might be saying, “Zoomie!  You and your gun reviews suck much ass!  Who do you think you are…Massoob Ayaab?  Please hurry up and die already!”

This would be my reply:

First of all, I’m sure he is the God of War, but I don’t care much for Massoob Ayaab.

Conditional branching?

Total compliance?

MOTHER FUCK!

What a douche.

"Cop just wants to go home at the end of his shift."

No shit? Guess what, crater-face. I wanna go home too…preferably without being harassed by a donut-assaulting, tax-devouring, revenue-collecting government agent for exercising my Constitutional rights.

How's about you don't treat every citizen as if he is John Dillinger?

How's about you lay off the "pre-crime" investigation. You fuckers mop up afterwards most times anyways. Grab a swab. I'll take care of me and mine.

How's about you don't expect me to genuflect and lick your balls every time we have an encounter so you feel "comfortable?"

Fuck your "comfort." Seems to me your level of "comfort" is in direct proportion to my level of liberty and how much of it you wanna try to take.

I give two shits about making your job "easier."

Nobody helps make my job "easier."

If you can't handle the tough job, it's time to look for something else to do.

Smarmy bitch.

Fuck you.

I don’t want to be Massoob Ayaab.

Whew...I feel better now that I've said all of that crap.

One word of advice about the CZ from your Uncle Zoomie:

When I got home I field stripped my CZ and hosed it down with an automotive brake cleaning solvent.

I don’t recommend this activity unless you first remove the cheap factory plastic hand-grips.

I did not, and my plastic hand-grips started to turn white, melt, and dissolve right before my very horrified eyes, but this gave me an excuse to order a set of Hogue rubber grips with finger grooves.

Doing this gave my new CZ75 a custom personalized appearance and made it look and feel cool and menacing too.

In addition to the grips, I also purchased a cheap and embarrassing Fobus paddle holster.

I know a lot of you snobs out there think that if you don't use a $200 hand-fabricated custom leather rig to carry your piece, you are probably anti-American and definitely stupid.

I do not agree, and I don't give a shit what you think.

Generally, I like the Fobus.  It works for me in most cases, and one drawback to the CZ75 is that there are not a shitload of holster choices for it.

The Fobus I got for my CZ75 does not have the retention tension adjusting screw like other Fobus models, and from what I could tell, Fobus does not make a paddle holster for the CZ75 with the adjustment capabilities.

Initially, the Fobus held my CZ75 much too tight, and I damn near undressed myself when I tried to draw.

I put the piece in the holster, and then gently warmed the whole mess on a space heater.

Doing this seemed to loosen things up a bit and make the Fobus more usable.

I am a fucking genius.

Or something...

But I still wasn't satisfied, so I did something really intelligent and went to the Fobus website.

There, they recommended that one can wipe down the inside of the holster with some kind of lube to make it easier to draw one's tight piece.

This I did with a little CLP, and I found inserting into and withdrawing from my tight little Fobus much more pleasurable.

I had a smoke, and all was right with the world.

But then…wouldn’t you know it…just the other day…a gang of Albanian dwarves got the drop on me and took my new CZ75!

Once again I am disarmed and defenseless.

Dammit!

And damn all you Albanian dwarves straight to hell!

Wolverines!

A Major Award

I received major awards from work this week because I am a kick-ass, indispensable, irreplaceable, and essential employee.

I told you people I was awesome.

Maybe next time you will believe me when I tell you something.

suck and blow

I read somewhere on intardnets this week that work is a lot like playing the harmonica; you have to know when to suck, and when to blow.

Now…while this is funny as fuck, it is also at the same time not true in my case.

I simply put a lot of effort into my work, and I try to do my job in the most efficient way in order to satisfy the greatest number of customers.

I think outside the box to solve problems on my own, and I don't involve management unless I run into a issue I can't fix myself. 

At the same time, I will not risk causing personal injury or property damage in order to complete my assigned duties.

If road conditions are hazardous, my customers get their shit when they get it...and they'll know when they're "getting it" when I pull into their facilities and set the brakes.

Yes.

It is a balancing act.

I am Safety Sam.

Or something...

If doing so makes my boss happy, that’s cool too.

Sorta.

Apparently my boss is happy, seeing as he has seen his way clear to present me with these two major awards.

Also apparent is that my supervisor is an extremely important and busy guy as evidenced by the fact that the awards are for July and October of 2011, and I am just now receiving them!

Company scuttlebutt says it is rare for a driver to get the monthly award twice in the same year.

The company rumor mill is also grinding out that winners of this coveted monthly award are eligible for “Driver Of The Year” fame, which entails a $10,000 after-tax prize and all-expense paid drunk-fest in Chicago.

…and seeing as I was awarded the monthly honor twice, my name will be dropped in the hat TWICE for the annual award.

I don’t know anything about all of that, though.

With my luck, the company will have decided to discontinue the exorbitant annual driver award prize thing.

Oh well.

It’s not like I was counting on it, but with $10k I could certainly afford to replace all of my guns that I lost in that horrendous para-sailing accident a while back.

Anyhoo…should I be so fortunate as to win the annual prize, I’ll be sure to let you fine folks know about it in my own special way.

In the meantime, I probably had better quit flipping off cops and bad drivers while out on the open road.

It wouldn’t look good for a multiple major award winner to do such things.

That’s what I think.

 

I dig the vintage depiction of truck drivers in movies and advertisements.  Clean, pressed uniforms.  Cool fedoras or hats like a cop or a soldier in garrison would wear.  Always helpful, smiling, and smartly saluting with a two-fingers Boy Scout salute.  Then they slit your throat!

 

Today, one is lucky to meet a steering-wheel-holder who speaks the King's English, has bathed in the last week, and isn't wearing sweat pants, a filthy wife-beater, and flip-flops.

 

Dwellers.

Move It Over A Knuckle...Or Something...

Arizona Governor Jan Brewer presents the 2012 Fickle Finger Of Fate Award to President Obama

I'll get me coat...

I Am Sorry...

...wait a minute.

No I'm not.

Never mind.

Strangers In The Night: An Epic Zoomie Meltdown

 

    
  I've had several nosy visitors the last few years.

It all started at just about the time I went public with the dreaded Blood-Soaked Dog Massacre Incident…one of my pivot points.

Since that time, the government comes-a-callin' here two or three times a month...just to check up on little ol' me...a dumb-ass, harmless, know-nothing, no-readership blogger who apparently posts some key words here and there.

Well…looky here, ass-bags.

You got nothing better to do than spy on a blog that says mean and hurtful things about you and your treasonous goings on?

…a miserable little blog containing stories bragging about my teenaged children and their achievements?

…a trivial intardnets presence detailing the trials and tribulations of a worn-out and exasperated truck driver?

Come on and get you some if you feel froggy.

Assholes.

Take your NDAA and shove it.

Sideways.

Without lubricant.

I love my country, but I hate my government and all you fuck-stains for what you have done to it.

My hate is a seething white-hot hate.

…a hate so hot it vaporizes the blood.

…and I ain’t the only one.

Trust me.

You call me a domesticated terrorist because I own guns.

Well…I DID own guns until I lost them all in a heinous water skiing accident…but that’s another story for another time. 

Now I am cowering and defenseless.

You call me a domesticated terrorist because I support Ron Paul.

Well...the Republican nominee debates are a fucking joke. 

Except for Paul, the rest of these assholes don't take this shit seriously, and they act like it is a late night talk show.

Whoever has the sharpest tongue, whoever delivers the cleverest putdown, whoever has the nicest haircut and most fashionable clothes wins.

Ron Paul is mostly ignored, laughed at, or called dangerously nuts for being Constitutionally-grounded, non-interventionist, financially sound, and pro-life.

Paul was booed for advocating the Golden Rule, for God's sake!

Now I ask...who is it that is REALLY dangerous and insane?

You call me a domesticated terrorist because I am a veteran. 

Well…I took AND observed my oath.  I served honorably and without (much) complaint in one of your glorious wars for oil.  It was another one of my pivot points, and I have learned much since then.

You call me a domesticated terrorist because I fly a Gadsden flag.

Well…I am justifiably pissed off at you.  It’s my way of being peacefully defiant.  What do you expect?  What would you rather me do?  Something senselessly violent?  That’s exactly what you want me to do so you can finish putting the hammer down for everyone’s safety.

I’ve said it before.

I am a man of peace. 

I wish to live freely and be left alone, but I won’t stand idly by while me and mine are being vigorously ass-raped.

That’s it.

Don't start nuthin,' won't be nuthin.'

It is not difficult to understand.

You are creating and exacerbating the problem.

Unintended consequences, I believe it is called…

Blow-back.

Keep nudging, motherfuckers.

Keep poking your bony finger into our chests.

Keep demanding we respect your authority.

Keep telling us that your agents just want to go home at the end of their shift.

Keep demanding we make your enforcers feel “comfortable.”

Keep demanding that we help make their jobs “easier.”

Keep telling us that they are just doing their job...that it is difficult and frightening and stressful sometimes…and that is why they beat and kill with regularity.

Keep telling us that we are not doing enough to assuage your enforcers’ fears.

Go on.

Keep that shit up.

I despise a bully, and I ain’t afraid to risk it by popping a bully in the mouth.

…and I ain’t the only one.

Trust me

There is a whole fucking mess of us out here who are fucking fed up with your bullshit.

Normally law-abiding, hard-working motherfuckers are cherry picking which of your multitude of edicts we feel like following…and basing these decisions on some silly crap like…oh…I dunno…the fucking CONSTITUTION and the BILL OF RIGHTS!

Try it.

You might like it.

And you might find that your enforcers will discover that their jobs aren’t so frightening after all.

Some of you might be saying, “Zoomie!  You are old and delusional and full of shit.  You talk like Billy Badass with your keyboard, but you will soil your knickers and comply when faced with reality.  Go back to bed, old-timer.  Your ranting is becoming ponderous.”

Who’s to say? 

None of you motherfuckers know me or what I’m capable of.

All I know is that…this one time…in a foreign land…sorta like band camp but with more sand…I fixed a bayonet, locked and loaded, stood tall, and prepared to repel an enemy.

And another time…a little closer to home…I faced a danger head-on and came out on top.

I have confidence...as long as I get my nap in...and if I don't get my nap in, I get incredibly cranky.

Y'all wouldn't like me when I'm cranky.

Irritable and confident is a dangerous combination of character traits.

That's what I think.

So come on and get you some if you feel froggy.

Come in peace...and with a warrant, and I’ll have tea and buttered scones with frilly doilies for you.

Don’t, and I won’t.

Rattlesnake shake. 

  

Assholes.

Do-be-do-be-do...