I’ve not been ‘on a date’ in some time. It’s simply a matter of logistics – I’ve no extraneous funds and my car is a beater with no air conditioning.
The fact that I don’t travel is any circles with available women has nothing to do with it!
I was thinking this morning about a few of my more memorable dates in the distant past. Some with fondness; some not-so-much.
I used to like to attend the cinema. There were many first-run films each week, lots of theaters from which to choose, and who doesn’t like sitting in the dark with a young woman? (this was in my 20’s – before I had been married, and subsequently divorced).
Now, of course, there are fewer movies and movie houses. And one may sit at home in one’s skivvies and watch videos until the cows come home, with beer, pizza, and (if one is so lucky) company.
AND, one may pause to go to the bathroom!
Times have changed.
ANYWAY, I remembered a couple of dates. One was a later Hitchcock film. I did (and DO love Alfred Hitchcock). My date said she did as well. Were post-date antics in the offing?
Sadly NO. The film was Frenzy. A film of a serial killer rapist, made in London. I think it was the first time Hitch actually exposed breasts on film. Following a violent rape and strangulation. Hardly something to arouse a normal young woman to later romance.
Another time, a former girlfriend returned to town and looked me up. We went out a few times, and I had hope of rekindling the romance. But, it was not to be…
She had mentioned she liked Burt Reynolds. There was a new film out with him in it. I thought “Hey! Maybe this will get things going again?”
Hardly. The film was Deliverance. You remember – dueling banjos, homosexual rape?
I just couldn’t get a break!
(as an aside, the consummate actor Ned Beatty was the rape victim here. I’ve wondered about the audition…“Hey, pages 18 and 19 are missing? Don’t worry about it, Ned.)
In the past eight years, I went from a low-to-middle income ‘career’, to short-term disability and illness, to long term disability and remission.
While I am most grateful for having survived(!), with long term disability has come a lower income, and the loss of my job and home. I tried to recover in the short term, and ended up maxing out my credit cards coupled with the inability to pay for them. And the medical bills that followed.
Along the way my firearms collection was stolen. Just to add to the ‘fun’.
Through the kindness of friends, I’ve been able to increase my firearms acquisitions to a small collection* (my surviving .38 snubbie and 1911, a Ruger .357 revolver and a compact Sig-Sauer .45! And, of course, a spring-operated pellet pistol and single-shot gas one!!)
My cup runneth over.
Not the over 50 firearms I once owned, but, it’s a great beginning. (I know, poor me.) 😛
So, what do I get in the email the other day?
Your Dream Gun Within Reach
One Gun One Gunsmith combined with oversized hand fit parts makes Nighthawk Custom pistols more expensive than assembly line guns. We know many of you dream of owning one “someday”, well someday is now today. With just 10% down and payments as low as $94 a month we have been able to make owning a work of American Craftsmanship attainable without having to cut corners.
The best part is, even if I had the down payment (which I don’t) with my trashed credit, there’s no way they would approve my application!
Of course, this doesn’t mean you can’t apply…
*We say collection. Arsenal has developed a negative connotation.
(FTC – Nighthawk gave me nothing. Apply for your own pistol! My roomie has one she bought years ago. It’s delightful!)
(from Brock Townsend)
I remember the hype at the SHOT Show on January 18, 2016, when Kimber announced the new gun they were launching, the K6s revolver. While parking the car and waiting in line with the other media folks, we were all discussing what could be done to the J frame to make this something other than another “me too” product. After making my way to the Kimber booth at the top of the hill, I got my first chance to see, and then handle, the new revolver. I was apprehensive of this revolver’s introduction, for several reasons:
Much of the Internet Vanguard (Borepatch, The Silicon Graybeard et al) have chided us for years regarding not just the intrusion of government and business into lives, but our voluntarily providing too much information to them – like posting when you are leaving for vacation on Facebook.
Well, my friends, Internet intrusion has indeed jumped the shark! (or perhaps a more adult euphemism!)
(from Wirecutter, in part)
A woman is suing her (appliance name excised for taste) manufacturer for knowing too much about when and how she uses it.
A few weeks ago, two researchers told the Defcon hacking convention audience that We Vibe “smart” sex toys send a lot of data about their users back to the company that makes them. According to Courthouse News, one We Viber took this news hard. A woman known only as “N.P.” filed a class action civil suit in a federal court in Illinois against Standard Innovation, which makes the We Vibe line of sex toys and corresponding app.
The smartphone app lets users “customize” their We Vibe experience, unlock app-only “bonus” vibration modes such as the “cha-cha-cha” and the “crest,” and “create unlimited custom playlists,” according to the product’s website. In the suit, N.P. says she bought a We Vibe in May and used it “several times” until she realized that it was sending data about her usage practices back to Standard Innovation’s servers, including when she used it, which vibration settings she used, and her email address.
And here I was concerned about license plate readers, facial identity programs and grocery store purchase trackers!
She obviously thought she was the master of her domain*, anonymously…
*a Seinfeld reference
Life doesn’t always go as we plan or desire. We certainly cannot control others in their personal plans or desires.
Especially, in matters of the heart.
Sometimes, we must let them go…
When love is good, it’s very, very good.
And when it goes away, it sucks.
Being on minimal disability, I cannot afford to ‘do much’.
This is not a bleg for money (although your kind generosity IS appreciated), but rather an observation. An expression of lust.
Regular readers know I’ve a beater car, that sometime runs w/o dashboard warning lights on. Or not. With no A/C. In AZ. I rent a room from a good friend, because I lost my home of 18 years due to my reduction in income on disability.
Yes, I’m fortunate and grateful! Seriously.
And, the Internet and television are my portals to the outside world. Women (did I say I’m
single divorced?), guns, cars. All for my viewing pleasure.
And I’m generally okay with this arrangement.
But today, something caught my attention. No, not a vehicle. Not a woman (surprised?)
I’ve always wanted a Texas Border rig, such as this. With an appropriate BBQ gun – I’m certain Sheriff Jim Wilson doesn’t want to part with his (above), though.
Of course, this is wrong-sided.
I’ve no place to wear it, anyway (would probably sell it to get the A/C in my car repaired!)
Most of you know, my Father was sports addict, and as a result (because of my inability to play after the onset of my disability at age 12), I was a sports orphan.
And the culmination of all this for me is I don’t have a passion for most sports. Watching, playing, appreciating. Because I can’t play, and because I was saturated with it as a child.
(If YOU love your sports, enjoy! It’s no problem for me. But, like religion, please leave it outside my door!)
I oft wondered about the American fetish for the love of team sports – especially baseball, football and basketball. It’s been explained to me that it has to do with civic pride. And, of course, friendly bets around the water cooler.
Or the bookie.
Marx says religion is the opiate of the masses. In this country, the opiate is also sports! I guess it stops folks from discussing religion and politics(?)
MY passion is the ability to live free. To make my own choices. To not be compelled to give to others through the power and force of government. If I choose to do so, that’s one thing. At the point of a gun, that’s another.
And, of course, my passion for the love a good woman.
Currently absent. 😦
But that’s for another post…
The Duck muses she might be a Russian anti-aircraft gun(?)
All I know is I want one…
h/t Maddened Fowl
I first saw The Avengers (the Patrick McNee BBC vehicle, not the comic books or movies) in the mid 60s, about the same time I hit puberty.
And with it, Mrs. Emma Peel (Dame Diana Rigg).
She didn’t have a huge top, nor was she actually skilled in the use of firearms, judo and karate. But, my hormones didn’t care. Here was a smart, sexy woman, dressed every-so-often in a black (or blue, or some other color) leather catsuit.
And I’ve been hooked ever since.
Not just she, but all her descendants and antecedents – because there were some predecessors I’d not seen prior, or hadn’t noticed because puberty hadn’t yet hit.
Julie Newmar as Catwoman
Honor Blackman (who played her predecessor on the British-only Avengers) played Pussy Galore in Goldfinger, at times in a catsuit. Of course there was Honey West, Catwoman, and a whole bevvy of slinky women in catsuits since.
And they keep showing up! The cat burglar who replaces the broken.missing valuables in the insurance TV commercial being the most recent.
It seems SEX sells.
I’ve written about this model N frame Smith before. But, yet another tale bubbled up from the slime that is my subconcious.
It seems much of my ‘adult’ youth was spent in pursuit of both girls and guns. I was luckier with guns. And, frankly, not all that lucky with them. 😦
John C. was a friend from my college law-enforcement classes. He was a former Marine wanting to become a deputy in the county where he grew up. He became my boss doing security at the closed Legend City amusement park. He was married to a strikingly beautiful young woman, who was a secretary at the local FBI office. This made sense in the scheme of things, as he was ruggedly handsome. Pale blue eyes, chiseled jaw and permanent five-o’clock shadow.
I’m certain had he known them, my friend Steve would have christened them Lance Goodlooking and Stella Stunning.
‘Shooting Star’ stocks
And there was something I desired of John’s – his Smith & Wesson Model 28 Highway Patrolman, with the Herrett Shooting Star stocks! (I kinda liked his wife, too, but, hey, they were married! – and I don’t DO that! As if she’d look at me even once…)
ANYWAY, having expressed my admiration for John’s Smith, one day he found himself short of cash, and offered to sell her to me. (the gun, not the wife). And I really, really wanted her. (the gun, seriously)
And we negotiated an arrangement. And I agreed to make payments. You see, I was making something like $90 a week, and had rent, etc. And I think he was asking $75. I could scare up $60, maybe. (this was 1976?)
Well, we met to finalize the deal, and John backed out! It seemed that the Highway Patrolman was his wife’s gun, and there was no way she was parting with her!
Geez! Turned down by the wife! (about the revolver). I can understand her not wanting to part with her though.
I heard some years later that John and his wife had a child, then divorced. I wonder if she still has the Model 28? Or is seeing anyone?
I’m kidding. I cannot afford either.