The Art of Manliness (a blog to which I sometimes refer) not only addresses etiquette, style and proper behavior, but also delves into ‘manly’ things such as camping, hunting, shooting, unarmed combat and other esoterica. (Of course, many of these subjects may be of interest to women, as well!)🙂
A recent guest post was entitled as above. I’m posting it below, in it’s entirety, not just to entertain and inform, but to show those who do carry behaviors and appearances which may bring to them unwarranted attention.
By A Manly Guest Contributor on Oct 21, 2016 02:10 pm
The following is an excerpt from 100 Deadly Skills: Survival Edition — . A follow-up to Clint’s first bestseller — 100 Deadly Skills: The SEAL Operative’s Guide to Eluding Pursuers, Evading Capture, and Surviving Any Dangerous Situation — this new survival edition offers primers on any survival situation imaginable, from wilderness scenarios, to terrorism and kidnappings, to natural disasters.
CONOP: Concept of Operations; COA: Course of Action; BLUF: Bottom Line Up Front
Individuals who carry a handgun professionally are well attuned to the range of mannerisms that can indicate the presence of a concealed weapon within their vicinity. Civilians, too, can learn to familiarize themselves with these signs and signals. When combined with suspicious behavior, the suspected presence of a concealed weapon should put bystanders on high alert.
Body Language: People carrying handguns tend to subconsciously telegraph the location of the weapon via their body language. They may reflexively palpate the gun to make sure the weapon is still safely in its holster, subtly re-position the weapon prior to sitting or standing, or shift their weight away from nearby bystanders to avoid accidental contact with or theft of the weapon.
Asymmetry: Another telltale sign is asymmetry in clothing. Guns are heavy and bulky, and thus will betray signs of their presence to anyone who’s paying attention. An outside-the-waistband holster may cause a visible midline bulge, while an ankle holster may cause a bulge or tightening of the fabric at the lower leg. A gun held in a jacket pocket will weight down one side of the jacket unevenly.
Environment: Hot or inclement weather can make concealed weapons easier to spot. Rain, wind, or sweat can reveal the outline of a gun, which will generally be much easier to hide under multiple layers of cold-weather clothing.
Negligence: Weapons are also frequently exposed due to temporary negligence, flashed or inadvertently dropped as a gunman reaches for his wallet. Dropped weapons are an all-too-common scenario at public urinals, where inexperienced perpetrators may thoughtlessly unzip their pants — thereby releasing the tension that was holding up the holster.
The post How to Spot a Concealed Handgun appeared first on The Art of Manliness.
Back when I was newly married (I’m now long divorced), my then wife was interested in finding ‘couples friends’. Basically, other couples we could hang with and share interests with. Socialize.
Instead of the more common I had my friends – she had hers.
Thankfully, this post is NOT about that!
I am most fortunate to have a small cadre of good friends. Some of whom happen to be couples. I am not currently part of a couple (my landlord being an ex gf is the closest I get) 😦
But recently, two of my ‘couples friends’ have come to my aid and comfort!
After my last scheduled medical procedure, wherein I was advised at the last minute I would owe a substantial co-pay up front, and I had to reschedule for lack of funds, one of the couples came through with the necessary amount! (Customer Service, Part Cinco)
I finally go in for that procedure this morning. Out-for-the-count @ 1130. Thank you, Dear Friends!
(Hopefully, I’ll be back in my blogging chair again tomorrow…)
Last week, yet another couples friend advised me they were going shooting at an air-conditioned indoor range. And asked me if I would like to accompany them!
Being of limited resources, I rarely get to go shooting, anymore. I jumped at the opportunity.
We got to go yesterday to C2! A very nice range, staffed by young, pretty people. And I was just required to bring my eyes & ears and whatever firearm. (I also found some ammo, although they kindly offered to share theirs!) Thank you, Dear Friends!
Often, I remind you to hold your family and friends close, and tell them you love them, because one never knows…
I’m taking my own advice, today, just in case something happens.
I Love You Guys!
I awaken middle of the night and I’m cold. Not just cool – cold. This may have something to do with the fact that I’m laying on top of the top sheet, and not wearing much. (I know – TMI)
Why am I doing this?
Well, I reside in The Valley of the Sun (the Phoenix Arizona area). And we’re experiencing a cold streak. It’s reportedly going to be 103° F, today.
It was 118° a week-and-a-half ago! (Unofficially at a friend’s – 123°, on his back patio!)
And being in the Western side of the townhouse, I get the PM Sun exposure. Usually 5 – 10 degrees warmer than the rest of the house!
SO…I sleep with a fan blowing directly on me, so the A/C may do her best work!
But, the body cools during sleep, and sometimes the combination of forced colder air and a cooler body equals…?
NO, this is not a replay of the Rod Serling Twilight Zone episode wherein the Earth’s orbit changed, and it is moving ever-closer to the Sun. When, in fact, the TV character’s fever broke and he began getting colder, and in fact the Earth was moving AWAY from the Sun!
I was just getting cold last night. So I moved the fan.
Which has nothing to do with the post’s title, except that’s another TZ episode. The tag line from which popped into my head upon awakening cold. 🙂
My roommate said I watched too much TV as a child. I’m beginning to think she was right.
Sometimes these posts write themselves!
I have a book that a reader sent me a year or two ago – and I apologize but I don’t remember who sent it – It’s about a guy who took it into his head to semi-retire into the Alaskan outback, near or above the Arctic circle. You know, just go out there and build a cabin and live.
Now, that’s more-or-less the plot of Into the Wild, and I think we know how that story turned out. But this older guy, Richard Proenneke, wasn’t some overindulged and suicidally starry-eyed kid. He was an old Alaska hand and actually knew what he was doing. He built a cabin that was a literal work of art – after he got old and retired from retiring, it became a tourist attraction for really hardy tourists. It makes the Secret Lair look like a particularly disreputable shed. And he made nearly every part of it from native wood or stone or bone – hell, he carved wooden door hinges.
Every single thing he had that he couldn’t make himself had to be flown in on a little bush plane and it could only happen a few months out of the year, so space and weight were real factors. And I was looking at the photographs reproduced in the book – Proenneke was a photographer, and my only complaint about the book is there aren’t enough photographs – and in one shot of the cabin’s interior I saw…a roll of paper towels.
And I had me a chuckle. Now, here’s a package of six paper towel rolls, which I just bought today…
It doesn’t weigh hardly anything, of course, but it’s bulky as hell. I suppose you could open the package and distribute the rolls around the plane, but my point is that if it needs to come by bush plane, you’d have to really want that roll of paper towels. Seems like there are more important things to which you could devote that plane space.
Except maybe there aren’t. When I was first alone out here, experimenting with ways to make due with virtually no income and really studying the difference between a want and a need, I learned that the line between the two is not always clear. Some commodities, while of course you can get along without them in the sense that you won’t actually die, are themselves so useful that it almost doesn’t matter. It’s not a question of life and death, it’s a question of quality of life. Indoor plumbing: Have I ever wasted a moment wishing I hadn’t devoted all that precious Lair space to an indoor toilet? Nope, not so much as a millisecond. To the best of my knowledge, and leaving poisonous spiders out of it, nobody ever died from using an outhouse as I originally planned. But a flush toilet is just such a massive improvement that, if you’ve got the water pressure, only an idiot would decide not to go ahead and dig for a septic system. Electricity’s the same way: Not a necessity of life, but look at all the things it makes possible.
Those are big things. There’s a myriad of little ones, like paper towels. It’s good to pay attention and learn what those things are, because it’s the little things that mark the difference between living and just surviving.
PAY ATTENTION – my personal motto.
I’ve found in my years that had I paid attention (or more attention) perhaps things would have turned our better or differently. Perhaps not.
But almost always were worse for having not done so.
Some of you may remember I often wear a built-up shoe, due to my leg disability. ( AKA ‘Ed’ – the really big shoe!)
And I wear ‘diabetic’ socks (because I’m diabetic) and use a ‘sock thingy‘ to put them on (because some ‘normal’ body bending is prohibited.
In recent years, because of my various limitations, I’ve discovered I prefer the use of a raised toilet seat. When it is necessary for me to, uh, sit.
I had one at the old house, but it was made for a round toilet. J’s home has the elongated model toilet. So, when I moved in here, it was necessary to purchase a properly-sized version. Which I did, at a pharmacy in East Phoenix.
Time has passed, as has much bathroom use. And, in spite of repeated attempts to keep the new device clean and sanitary, it has become worn and not-so-much. (I know – TMI!)
It became time to purchase a new version.
Of course, this is not as easy as it sounds!
First, a visit to the many (five) local drug stores didn’t work. Either they only stocked the round models, or none at all.
AHA! How about Amazon or Ebay? The purveyors of all things via shipping to one’s home? Numerous choices, brands, models and prices abounded. Some marked ‘may fit some elongated seats’, others round only. And some cleverly worded to advise they fit the round models, but may fit some elongated with some modification. Further research was required.
And the current seat wasn’t getting any cleaner! 😦
I spent many hours reading purchaser commentary. Many of which were of no help.
And pricing, unfortunately, was also a consideration. I am on disability, and spending over $200 to raise the whole commode with a shim was not an option!
But, my patience and research skill were finally rewarded! We received the new, properly-sized (and clean!) seat yesterday! Obtained at a reasonable price.
I will just have to be more diligent about keeping it clean…
This is probably brule’ for those of us who are ‘gunnies’ and carry with regularity, but is still interesting with regard to how those in the federal law enforcement circle views such things.
It IS nice edged weapons are included!
(from The Firearms Blog)
The guide itself is rather basic, mostly written word of generally common-sense spotting techniques that most law enforcement would look for during any encounter.
The first and basic step is to “determine (the) strong side” which can be determined by looking for cues such as watches, writing, smoking, and other daily tasks.
Then, according to the Secret Service “An individual who carries a gun on their person will periodically touch that gun both consciously and unconsciously.” (I disagree with this, carrying on a regular basis and with training, many concealed carriers will not touch their firearm, but can see how for MOST encounters, this is true).
Perhaps the most interesting nugget (At least to me) is that the “the majority of right-handed people that carry handguns illegally carry them in the right front waist band, loose.” The document then explains that its because doing so is “cool”, seen in the movies” and “where it is most secure and accessible.”
You can see the whole document here, courtesy of Public Intelligence. (6 pages PDF)
I was reminded of walking through downtown Scottsdale (many years ago) after the Az CCW law initially passed. In a couple of hours, I spotted at least nine persons carrying concealed weapons. I’m certain part of the observation was this was a relatively new legal behavior and folks weren’t used to doing so yet. But people tugging up on there waist bands on the right side under their overshirts, and wearing overshirts were a good beginning!
Most cops or plainclothes agents aren’t that concerned with concealment, and get accustomed to carrying many hour a day, and have done so for years.
Having done so, myself, for many years, I’ve the same comfort and familiarity.
And hope you have it, as well!
Neither J nor I cook very much.
It’s not that we are lazy. J. is asthmatic and has back issues (being a stylist for 35 years undoubtedly has something to do with it! All that standing and chemicals.) I have my own disabilities. Standing is not something I do well, certainly, it is never pain free.
But, sometimes we are able to cobble something together.
I had just returned from buying groceries. After putting them away, I decided to fry up all the thick-sliced, hickory-smoked bacon. Why? BACON!
Judy came downstairs and asked I vacate the kitchen so she could work. She had me buy a large round loaf of Hawaiian bread at the store. We had eggs. Bacon. Butter. Half-and-half.
It was time for FRENCH TOAST!!
Here is my plate, shortly before I devoured it. Real maple syrup, and all…
Take THAT, Brigid! :-)
I like to think I have Principles
I like to think I stand on them, and admire those who do also.
Unless, of course, their principles are diametrically opposed to mine!
One would think that working as a county clerk, and gay marriage was upheld by The Supreme Court, and licensing gays violated my principles, that it would behoove me to look for employment elsewhere(?)
The same thing applies to pharmacists who dislike dispensing a ‘morning after’ pill to their customers.
Or going to work at the Walmart sporting goods department, and being told you must sell guns and ammunition. And you are anti-gun.
This just in – an Islamic flight attendant is objecting to be required to serve her passengers alcohol! (as if she didn’t know this going in!)
If working there and doing your assigned job violates your principles – QUIT!
There’s an old saw, emblazoned on many a sampler and kitschy poster, stating “When you work for a man, WORK for him!”
Perhaps the women in the news are hoping to become another cause celebre, and make it to the Supreme Court?
In another lifetime.
I’m certainly not pristine in holding to my principles. I AM human. I worked for a polygraph company (not as a polygrapher) and federal legislation was pending to severely restrict private polygraph pre-employment companies. (It passed). But the boss had us calling in on company time (we were getting paid to do this) in an effort to sway the Congress to not pass the bill.
And, having had some (not all) negative experiences with polygraphs, I privately supported the legislation.
But, I also needed a paycheck, so…
I chose getting a paycheck over standing on my principles.
I was laid-off six months later, regardless, I’m sure in part to the decreased company revenue.
I probably should have quit.
Most of us live with our firearms. They are as much part of our daily routine as shaving, brushing our teeth, picking up our wallets and keys on the way out the door.
But, what if…?
Melody Lauer aka Limatunes recently made a choice to put her gun away for an entire year! Or in her words…
If you could put my blog into a category it would be “self defense.”
To me, however, it’s a little more than that. It’s my story–my unique journey. If others can glean a little from my experiences and thoughts I’m honored, if not, it’s no big deal. There have been times, however, when I’ve purposely withheld parts of this journey from my readers because I wasn’t sure how what I had to say would be received. Or I may not have been ready to put it out into the virtual void. This is one of those times.
I’ve been hanging on to this post for almost two years and it feels like a good time to get it off my chest.
I want to tell you about my biggest “break-through” year in self defense. It was a year I learned more about how to defend myself, increased my confidence, improved my overall skills and expanded my horizons. I learned how to manage fear and angst and to trust my instincts. I learned how to manage medical emergencies, have fun and express myself in many other ways. This was one of the best years of my life.
It was the year I put my gun away.
My journey, my work, my goals have all been a means to build confidence in myself, not a tool. I chose a tool to aide in my journey, not to define it. I sought to be well-trained with a tool, not ruled by it. Guns, to me, are tools to master in a long list of other tools to master (including my sewing machine).
I have always wanted real self-defense solutions, not crutches or bandaids, platitudes or false security. So when I felt my gun was becoming a crutch I decided it was time to get rid of it–or, at least put it away for awhile.
I want to tell you about why I felt compelled to put it down and why I picked it up again and why I always knew it would find a place on my belt again, when I was ready.
While my husband and I were packing for a much-needed vacation to a place without reciprocity I felt nervous at the prospect of having to leave my gun behind. I started thinking about all the “what if” situations and wanting my gun.
I hated the feeling.
It exposed everything I’d wanted to avoid about carrying a gun in the first place. It exposed my weaknesses and my fears, my shortcomings and false security. I showed me I wasn’t confident that I could protect myself without my gun. I was using that gun as a means to “feel” safer, but that didn’t make me safer. It was becoming a cliche I wanted to avoid.
I honestly evaluated myself and decided it was time to rip off that bandaid, throw out the crutch and walk on my own.
You should really go and read her whole essay. It does turn mindset on it’s head.
(Truly, I cannot believe it’s been Twenty Years!)
There are things that are good to remember; things bad to remember; and things important to remember.
The crummy part of all this is sometimes my brain is not too good at discerning which is which, or what goes with what.
My character (being flawed and neurotic as it is) has a tendency to default to the bad.
A shrink, I’m certain, would say it’s all about low self esteem, negative messages from childhood, etc. The reasons don’t matter.
Twenty years ago, today was the accident in which our daughter Molly was killed.
I was driving – this makes me ultimately responsible, as I was The Dad. The Protector. The fact the other driver ran the red light while speeding is of no consequence.
I carry a sidearm. I’ve done so for 41 years. Long before I even met Molly’s mother, I chose to do whatever I could to protect myself and my family and friends. It’s a roll I haven’t taken lightly.
And I took my assignment as Protector even more seriously when I became a father. It’s what father’s are supposed to do!
We were making a left turn from 44th Street, East onto Thomas Road. A little after 1 PM. Going to Monkey Wards after an earlier visit to Famous Footwear @ 20th St. and Camelback. Saturday’s with 12 year old daughters meant shopping! The signal didn’t have a left turn arrow back then. It was just like in the movies – in the midst of completing the turn, I sensed something was wrong. Based on the estimated speed of the other car, we were pushed across the intersection in about one-tenth of a second.
And many lives changed forever.
I’ve no memory regarding what happened next. Nothing to recall on the witness stand months later. I was told I regained consciousness enough to give my estranged wife’s phone number to the ambulance guy, when I was asked if there was anyone he could call.
I had early drugged hospital memories of being on board a ship(!) Not enough consciousness to ask why I was on a ship. Turned out, with one (now re-inflated) collapsed lung and the other half filled with fluid, County Hospital had me on a pneumatic bed which kept hissing and rolling, to keep fluids from settling in my damaged lungs. Ribs pushed into a lung. Broken collar bone. Broken arm. Tube up the nose, and IV morphine/ativan drip.
My sister, wife and friends were there, being supportive and keeping loving watch as much as they could. Not wanting to answer the obvious question: Where was Molly?
In my few awake moments, I remember asking about the funeral, desperately wanting to be well enough to attend.
My wife was told Sunday morning there had not been any brain activity, and had the courage to disconnect life support. Had our roles been reversed, I don’t think I would have had the bravery. I am forever grateful to her for this. A number of folks benefited from her decision.
The funeral was that following Tuesday. I was largely unconscious in ICU at County for another two weeks.
Ultimately, after being moved to Good Sam, being given Tylenol in lieu of the morphine/ativan drip (!) and weeks in the regular hospital and rehab, I was able to walk and breathe again.
I was deeply depressed and pretty much just counting the days.
Until I could pay my respects.
That came weeks later.
I’ll say it again, as long as I take breath – Tell your family and friends you love them, right now!
Because you may never get another chance.
AND be an organ donor.
I try to remember the good times. The IMPORTANT ONES. It’s what has kept me alive for the past twenty years.
My thanks to all of you, family and friends, for holding me up, until I could stand on my own.
(Commentary has been turned off – I know how you all feel. Thanks, again.)