PDB has a link to an article in his post regarding the Jeff Cooper Color Code, and the OODA Loop.
An occasional reminder is always in fashion.
Most of my friends are old friends. People I’ve known twenty, thirty years or more. My friend Jim, for example, I met when I was in the 3rd Grade, he in the 1st. In 1960!
Mark, therefore, is, by this definition, a new friend. I’ve only known him, what?. Fifteen years?
Mark and I met while working together at TMCCC, in the Security Investigations Department. He’d just transferred in from another area, and befriended me. Somewhere in this process, he had heard I was the ‘gun guy’.
Along the way he had a detour. He was struck riding his bicycle from work by a hit-and-run driver. One leg was seriously mangled and broken, and he wore one of those metal splint devices with pins going into the bone for some time. I’m not a big fan of government-mandated bike helmets, but I am thankful he was wearing his. He still has it, along with the fist-sized hole punched in one side. He’s now completely recovered, and hikes and visits the gym regularly.
He became a shooting student of mine, then a gunnie in his own right. A big fan of the 1911, the .357, and the 12 gauge.
And he’s one of the cadre of friends who has supported me, in spirit and sometimes, financially. Before I was gifted Hobson (the Roomba vacuum) he came by and vacuumed my entire house! Just because it needed it, and I was unable.
And he came by to assist Dave (the
genius mechanic) when he worked on my car.
He’s had some job difficulties, of late, and took a seasonal position at an Amazon contractor’s warehouse. Physical labor, 10 hour days! He always seems upbeat, but, I know with his intellect, this must wear on him.
This guy reads The Economist, for chrissakes! And even stops by this blog with an occasional snarky remark. I’d expect nothing less.
Thank you for being my friend, Mark.
I’ve posted before a few times regarding my firearms addiction, and the resulting Jones from chronic unfulfillment.
My favorite gun store is no longer part of my occasional travels, in part as walking and standing are difficult, but also because there are numerous toys therein, none of which I can afford.
The analogy might be made to the man who attends a strip club, then goes home alone, or a doughnut shop-not buying anything, and goes home to his diet.
But, a pending gunfest is looming out there. The Crossroads of the West Gun Show is this next weekend, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
This is the BIG annual, pre-Christmas show at the Arizona State Fairgrounds. Multiple buildings and tented areas in-between. Machine guns! State Fair-type foodstuffs!
The last time I went was three years ago, and during my attendance began having some shortness of breath. This was the beginning what ultimately became my hospitalization and successful treatment for lymphoma.
I used to go to gun stores and gun shows often. That Crossroads show was the last I attended.
I’m really hoping my pain level is manageable enough to walk the show this year.
Even though I won’t be able to buy anything to placate my Jones.
My favorite gun, thankfully, was on my person when the burglars took my 800 pound gun safe.
(Note to self, and all – bolt your safe into the wall and foundation, even if it weighs 800 pounds!)
She’s been previously described – a custom Colt NM slide over a Vega frame, Bo-Mar sighted, Swenson ambi-safetied, Micro-bushinged masterpiece.
I christened her the B.H.S.M., after the previous owner: The Bob Hall Signature Model.
A lady friend names all her firearms: Betsy (akin to Mike Hammer’s gat), Precious (a Silence of the Lambs reference) and many others. She calls the BHSM Bobbie, as guns should have female names.
Of course, the most famous gun name in recent history is from the Sci-Fi cult hit Firefly, wherein Jayne Cobb tries to trade his favorite rifle Vera, for Captain Mal Reynolds ‘wife’ Saffron. Fair is fair, right?
Do you name your firearms? Or just a special one? Is the naming in keeping with the time-honored tradition of naming machines women’s names?
|Jayne, with Vera|
Inquiring minds want to know.
was gracious enough to remind all of us that today is the 85th anniversary of the passing of the genius that
was IS John Moses Browning. (PBUH)
“It would not be an exaggeration to divide the world of metallic cartridge firearms to the periods “Before Browning” and “After Browning”. This is the guy who invented the slide on the automatic pistol.”
Thanks for the reminder, Tam.
Go read her at the link.
Visual surveillance was unquestionably lawful because “the eye cannot by the laws of England be guilty of a trespass.”
Boyd v. United States, 116 U.S. 616,628 (1886)
Back-in-the-day pre-Internet and cell phone cameras, use of optical appliances and film cameras was a tricky business. Not only was the equipment somewhat bulky, it was obvious to any observer what you were doing, e.g. pointing a 35 mm telephoto-lensed camera at someone. Or even watching through binoculars. Movie cameras were even worse, and forget video – it didn’t exist for the average P.I.
Some of the P.I.s and P.I. hangers-on would assemble at the end of the day, or at a P.I. association meeting, and discuss custom vans with all manner of monitors, video equipment, and shotgun microphones. The group was usually divided into the haves, and the have-nots, the have-nots being 95% of the participants. Of course, the 5% got all the high-end work.
Most of my camera work was medium or close range, less than 75 feet. Get in, get the picture, get out. I did have a great camera, though.
A Contax 35 mm, with a 70-200 mm zoom telephoto lens, using a 2x teleconverter. It had an internal motor drive, as well. Burned lotsa film.
My binoculars were less impressive. A cheap plastic pair. The saving grace was they were 12 x 50. Could discern whether a spot was a mole or a zit @ 100 yards.
I still have the binoculars, but the camera and lens were on loan to my ex-wife when her apartment was burgled some years ago.
Oh, well, I’m not skulking about, taking photographs anymore. Film is too expensive, with processing and all. And old school. Everything’s digital, now…
And, after all, the government is doing that to all of us, anyway.
A couple days ago Gun Nuts Media had a posting regarding an off-set holster, specifically for women shooters. I checked it out. Sadly it was only manufactured for three firearm models, combat Tupperware all.
But it got me thinking on today’s theme.
How many women (and sometimes men) don’t carry, because they cannot find suitable accoutrement?
Women, of course, have purses available to them. Men may use a man-bag (of some sort) or a briefcase.
Or both may use the ubiquitous-and-unfashionable fanny pack.
Twenty years ago, the fanny pack, as designed for firearm carry, was unknown to most folks and many police officers. I know of a number of folks who utilized them with impunity, sometimes in places forbidden to weapon carry by the citizenry. But, now they flash armed person to most anyone with a brain. So carry locations are more limited.
And while more holsters are manufactured with the female form in mind, fashion dictates for more form-fitting clothes, tiny or non-existent pockets, insubstantial belts (or no belt) and more visible flesh, making concealment on the person more difficult. If not impossible.
So, they’re left with a gun purse.
A close friend of mine carries her Nighthawk in a gun purse, almost 24/7. Along with her cell phone, electronic tablet, Wi-Fi connection, tactical flashlight, spare magazines, a knife or two, wallet and various other feminine flotsam. When she places her purse on a restaurant table, the sound resembles the placement of a concrete block. Gotta be difficult to carry.
But finding a fashion appropriate, secure and comfortable on-the-body holster is difficult for a woman.
|courtesy of Breda|
h/t Breda, Caleb
My weight has always been an issue, as an adult. I was a skinny kid, but, with my own income and independence came the inevitable junk food and later, beer. MMMM beer!
And my weight has fluctuated many times over the past 40 years.
Most recently, intentionally, I’ve dropped significant weight in the past 8 months. The numbers aren’t important.
Not that I’m a clothes horse. I would be if I could, but I can’t afford it.
Now my weight is almost down to before I got sick. A good thing, but…
How do you balance the smaller pant size with firearm concealment? In the baggy big pants, I can carry comfortably most anything. In the smaller size, not so much.
The pocket holster for the 442 nickel is almost perfect. Except in the smaller-size pant the pockets are smaller.
And the pocket holster and it’s contents are more visible.
I could continue to wear a larger size, as Col. Cooper suggested, but, then I’d resemble an old, fat gang member.
The smaller jeans are not uncomfortable, but could be. I’m wearing them more for vanity than for size.
And I can’t afford (nor want) a mouse gun.
Guess I’m stuck with large overshirts?
Originally, I’d planned a post whining about why I don’t like the Thanksgiving holiday. Suffice it to say I try to avoid the ‘traditional’ feast.
I celebrate by having something non-traditional. Like Italian food. Today, we’re having spaghetti, with meat sauce, garlic toast and a salad. And, my guest is making a cheesecake!
I do have much to be thankful for. My sister, my family, and my friends. Both in person and on the Internet.
The blogger community has been wonderful to me. Thank you. As Ian Fleming used to say, without whom, etcetera...
Cato @ Liberty has a post disclosing the FDA is considering mandatory reductions in salt content in processed foods in the supermarket aisle and restaurants.
All the whining in the blogs I’ve seen lately regarding the return (for a limited time!) of The McRib Sandwich must have had an effect.
Of course, like most nanny-statism, it’s being promoted with scant publicity. Don’t want to rile the troops with their already high blood pressure.
Just another nudge...
Cass Sunstein rears his patient, but controlling head, yet again,, as the Administration’s purveyor of making you move in the direction ‘they’ want you to go.
I’m hardly the picture of perfect health.
But, thus far, I’ve chosen to live my life as I wish and eat what I want. And I’ve paid for some of those choices.
I’m not an idiot and don’t swallow the entire Morton Salt box, chasing it with a bottle of MD 20/20 fortified with bacon fat covered chocolate!
However, if I did, it wouldn’t be the government’s business, anymore than whether or not I wear a motorcycle helmet, seat belt or a condom.
‘They’ just warned us about the danger of deep-frying turkeys, too. Good thing the government is there, because without them we’d be nothing more than drooling idiots with no sense or direction.
We need them to make all our decisions for us!
h/t Walter Olson