Old School: Kimber Stainless Classic 1911A1 .45 acp, GM M1 Carbine 1943
If you don't draw yours, I won't draw mine.
Old School: Kimber Stainless Classic 1911A1 .45 acp, GM M1 Carbine 1943
Monkeygirl reminds us that hysterical crazy people are so much funnier after dealing with them, than they are during.
I've thought of myself as a shotist for awhile. Yes, there are many better than me. But I generally come in at the halfway spot among those who have self-selected to compete in pistol matches, which is a better-than-average group of shooters.
Noticed that it was too dim for the bright afternoon, and tapped the up-arrow a few times while nodding to the rangemaster that yes, I was ready to shoot. On the beep, I threw it to my shoulder and... I was looking through a clear sight with no reticle, at the target, with only a front sight.
When this happens, do NOT attempt to turn on the sight. (I think I began to do that.)
Flip up the backup iron sights (BUIS), and just use those for the remainder.
In this case, the sights were flipped to smallest aperture. (seriously suboptimal on a small black target against a dark background, while I was in this sun.). I shot the target twice as required, and ran forward, flipping up the large aperture, leaned through a doorway, double-tapped two plates, turned to the stop plate, and.... Out of ammo.
We had been instructed to down-load magazines to given amounts. This stage required 9 rounds in the magazine, the next stage required 6. I had put the magazine holding 6 rounds into the rifle, in a stage requiring at least 7 to shoot it clean. After fumbling with my pockets for a second (no spare magazines-- 9 rounds maximum for this stage, darn it.), I just shot it with my pistol. Very slight cool factor for the method of solution-- the stop plate was about 15 yards or so off, and the pistol shot was pretty fast. But not that cool.
Before the next stage, I yanked the spare batteries out of hollow of the pistol grip (planning occasionally helps), and put them into the Eotech sight.
Nothing. Well, crap.
The rest of the carbine match went about like that. You know, things like not having properly sling-shot the bolt so that it would seat the round, but rather riding it slowly down, then failing to hit the forward assist. This of course results in a "click" when you want a "bang." Look, I'm letting it all hang out, here. It's shameful. I not only know better, I've known better for decades!
Can I claim complacency? I hardly could see how; complacency usually comes when you're moving along pretty well. Lack of practice? I don't put in a thousand rounds a month, but I do average about 50 to 100 rounds a month out of the AR, and try to make the matches. Fatigue? Naw, I was okay. Sickness? Distraction? Bad ammo? Broken rifle? Nope, not really (cell phone did ring and vibrate in my pocket during two stages, but that's life-- adapt and overcome or die); nope; nope (the rifle ran fine).
Some days, you just suck.
After, I checked the Eotech. Seems that the lithium batteries were, in a way, the problem. The labels on the batteries are a thin layer of plastic, whis is applied with adhesive to hold it to the metal of the outside of the battery. In intense heat, that adhesive will melt, causing it to run. Heat like... oh, say, the trunk of a patrol car that sits in Texas sun all summer long. That adhesive pooled on the battery face against the contact, and then dried on the Eotech battery contact point, making a nice little insulating dab of adhesive that prevented battery function as soon as rattling the Eotech around managed to cause the adhesive to work itself between the contact point and the battery terminal. A judicious scraping with a knife point finally cleared it (harder than I would have thought, as in the 90 degree air the adhesive was pretty gummy), and the 'lectric sight worked again.
This is why I sometimes shoot matches with the BUIS, only.
This is also why I try to shoot matches with the Eotech, only.
This whole exercise is why I practice.
Better to get the crap out of my system at the range, where I'm only red in the face, than on the street, where the costs are so much higher.
But damn, I am not looking forward to other folks seeing my scores when the rangemaster publishes them tomorrow. [/head slung]
I'll admit it. Pride's a motivator.
I took my wife (the sculptor) to see the Ron Mueck exhibit at the Fort Worth Modern Museum yesterday.
Then there was the Big Man, which, while sitting, was about my height. I would call him 3X, in total volume. Maybe more. You felt very, VERY uncomfortable about standing in front of this one-- he didn't like it.
Mueck was a special effects guy in the movies for years. What he gets is texture, and attention to detail. You never really appreciate how much a pimple adds to humanity, until you're seeing one on a 5-foot face lying on its side about a foot in front of you.
I halfway expected to smell them. (Yes, for good or bad, humans have an odor.) But they were sterile, empty of any scent.
"I was trying to somehow draw the contrast between myself and my daughter but tonight after talking with her and seeing her deal with some of the trials of late adolescence and a strange battle to fight (she's been all but ostracized because
she's Baptist surrounded by Pentecostals who think she's a heretic because she's
Baptist - you believe this nonsense? I do, because I know where she goes to
school.) - I sit down to bring all this together realizing that some things are
just universal, not the least of which is this: No matter who you are, no matter
where you live, no matter what you do ... there will be people who will act
strangely toward you and presume to judge you based on their own uninformed,
In making a comparison, Babs talks about her amazing daughter--the beautiful, intelligent daughter who is respectful of her remarkable mother, and who basically is exactly the kind of young lady that a parent should pray that their little girl grows up to be.
Read that again, and see if it doesn't make your blood boil just a tad. Ridiculous, isn't it?
But stop and do a personal scan. Have you not presumed to pre-judge a Catholic? A Muslim? A Hindu? A pagan? An atheist? I submit that a lot of aspersions are being cast all around, for belief systems that aren't hurting the persons passing judgement, and before they've gotten a chance to actually know what they're actually talking about.
If your belief system helps you find inner and spiritual peace, then by all means, embrace it.
But if you're using its framework to criticize and faultfind others around you, then I would suggest that it's not providing you peace at all, and maybe you should re-examine your motives and methods.
Wars are fought over such issues, unfortunately.
And girls are coming home beleaguered.
Think that maybe you can teach your kid not to judge people so harshly?
I'm going to try.
Because I judge, all too often.
Lee L. Mercer Jr. seems to have a confusing platform for the U.S. Presidency that runs on education, order, rule of law, and, uh, a weird mixture of the above.
On August 22, 1992, The State of Texas installed an intelligence hotwire
in me at the United States Army Military Intelligence Academy Camp Bullis
San Antonio, Texas.The continuation of my biography background experience,
graduate education and political experience is being held because of a Lack of
authorities debriefing funds and interest for their liability to me.
I am in a stalled police debriefing with the Houston Police Department waiting for me to sue to complete my debriefing for my background biography with them in the United States Army Military Intelligence Academy Camp Bullis San Antonio, Texas, The University of Texas ROTC to West Point Military Academy U.S. Navy doctorate degree in Police Science.
I have a doctor degree Phd. as a doctor of laws, medicine ( not
practitioner of medicine, i.e. physicians, surgeons), theology, management,
engineering and other subjects that are guaranteed by the United States Army
in ROTC to be presented to me in a court of Law only.I will receive my
doctor degrees in a court of law only. My final graduation will be in a
United States of America’s Court which was ordered by my second ROTC Board
and Staff Janet Reno former U.S. Attorney General, former Chief of
Staff of the U.S. Army and Secretary Of State of The United States
General Colin Powell, Sr. and former Secretary of The United States Army
Togo West. They will be joining me circumstantially later.
I won scholar of the world in World Management at Rice University from the President Of Rice University development in engineering with him and the German Government.
I won road scholar from the United States Navy/United States Marine Corp. at West Point. All of my records of authencation will be
brought forward into court by former board and staff that I have named above
according to law for my day in court.
Clairbell's mother makes her an offer she can't refuse.
"She wants to go on a trip with just me. Somewhere, anywhere. Without the boys, she says. Anywhere, for an undetermined amount of time, and doing anything as long as it’s not 'too rugged.' Not too hot, less than 100 miles."
It went well. They did have biscuits and sausage, and some of the blandest scrambled eggs that I've ever put in my mouth. Again with the battle to get my kid to drink unadulterated white milk.
Tamara assures us that she's writing a new Sunday Smith entry for her Arms Room blog.
There's a staunch movement afoot to give Washington D.C. a vote in the House.
One of our officers told me that a certain cowboy came by the PD the day before yesterday.
Breakfast this morning brought back some memories.
..."City of Brotherly Love."
BallPark hotdogs "Plump When You Cook 'Em."
Labels: crap entertainment
The other night I wrote the following:
"It's about 60 pounds of solid, mangy dog.
It runs from officers on-duty when they try to snare it.
It's a stray.
It's reportedly been chasing children.
It's growled at many adults, and made some charges at them.
Tonight it gave me a good little false charge as I walked through town while off-duty. Enough so that I drew on it and wondered if I could get all 6 .380 rounds into it if it came to that.
Enough is enough!
I got my .22 to put it down; I have kids that live here, too.
It ran off. I followed. When I got a good sight and a good backstop on it, I realized that we were in a heavily populated area. No good. Even a .22 can be an alert, with the supersonic crack. Also, .22's have a spotty history against medium big dogs.
I'm going to load some nice sedate 148g lead hollow-based wadcutters into some .35 Whelen cases over just enough medium-burning powder to push them up to about 950 fps. Out of my Springfield's 22 inch barrel, it should go "pop," but hit with more accuracy and power than a +P .38 Special.
I don't want to have to fire a second shot. I don't want to risk the dog suffering. And I don't want to put the neighborhood in an uproar.
I just want it gone."
...my Dad JPG has fired up his own shiny new blog. He's only gotten one real post up, but stay tuned and keep checking in; he's about to post a review (with pictures) of the new Colt WWI 1911 replica.
$10 buys you a cheap headset with a 1/8" headphone jack to plug into a cordless or cellular telephone. Not an earbud, but an honest-to-Gawd headset with a wire bale to hold it on your head. When you call your insurance company or anywhere else where you're going to be put on hold or sent to Voicemail Hell, these things are worth their weight in diamonds. I've got one at the PD for when I have to call Dispatch for info, too. (That being low-priority, I always find myself being put on hold.)
Why are Russia's main stories lately ones of sabre-rattling, partial regime change, and new armaments?
Who here wants to read the writings of a 40 year veteran Texas lawman, degreed history major, gun aficionado/collector/shotist, formerly ranked IPSC competitor, reloader, hunter, handloader, firearms instructor (police and CCW), discussion board moderator, and dog wrangler, who by-the-way happens to be my Dad?
6 years ago today, almost to the minute, our nation was attacked.
Yes, I'm sure that I'm the very last person to have heard of David Wong.
In the land of the decrepit hulks of dead cars, the man with the 11 year old Honda Civic with body damage and no A/C is king.
Michael Jackson-- the only one that matters-- is dead.
Just some clarifications of The Truth, before my good name is defiled any further by a certain bambulance driver.
"...without a Need To Know."
Heh, imagine being in Cranky Professor's English class, during one of her rants.
Ever notice that I don't ever post graphics that show that I'm a certain book or character or brand of disposable lighter or whatnot?