Interesting Development

Not much has happened in the .22 LR rimfire ammo world in about a thousand years, so I read with interest about something that Federal has done. But first, some background.

There’s always been a ballistic difference between the standard 40-grain solid  (LRN) ammo and the 36-grain hollowpoint (HP), for obvious reasons — the lighter bullet “flies” a little higher at any range greater than 25 yards, sometimes as much as an inch higher at 50 yards. Given that .22 shooting is generally aimed at small targets, this means that you have to adjust your scope each time you swap ammo — at least, that’s been my experience when shooting CCI’s Mini-Mag 40gr LRN / 36gr HP ammo through my Marlin 880SQ rifle.

So some smart guys at Federal claim to have done something about this disparity, and made their 38-gr (not 36-gr) “Field Pack” ammo ballistically matched to their cheaper 40-gr “Range Pack” offering — although there’s a 60 ft/second difference between the heavier and lighter cartridges, Federal claims that the “drop and drift” disparity should be pretty much unnoticeable. Here are the two packs under discussion:

I like this idea, so I’m going to give it a try as soon as I get them shipped to me*. Range report to follow.


*No local retail outlet has the two in stock, when I checked. Lucky Gunner has the Field but not the Range, and its price on the Field is phenomenal: $19.00 (6.9c/round) vs. CheaperThanDirt’s $24.12 as pictured above. CTD, however, does have both variants in stock and their shipping is quite a bit cheaper (the warehouse is located just a few miles from where I live), so this time I’ll go with CTD.

Update: I needed a couple other items from CTD, so I added them to the basket and qualified for free shipping. Hubba-hubba.

 

5 Worst Ballads Ever Written

Ranked in ascending order of awfulness, and all inexplicably popular:

  • MacArthur’s Park — Richard Harris (most obscure and meaningless lyrics ever)
  • All Out Of Love — Air Supply (actually, any AS ballad could be inserted here)
  • Halleluya — Leonard Cohen (maudlin cheesy tearjerker)
  • It Don’t Matter To Me — Bread (beta-male whining)
  • Diary — Bread (the ultimate cuckold song)

No links; I refuse to be party to mass vomiting.

Your suggestions on the topic in Comments.

Definitely In Contention

Thinking of Playboy stuff last week reminded me of a strong candidate for Kim’s Online Object Of Desire (the one to replace the now-too-skinny Nigella Lawson).

She’s 52, she has one of the sexiest smiles ever caught on film, she’s one of the greatest ever to play her sport, and OMG it’s Katarina Witt:

…and yes, those incredible legs are still, well, incredible:

In keeping with the season, here she is in some demure Oktoberfest-Kleidung:

Definitely a gold medal contender. And speaking of Playboy, Hef would have wanted me to post at least one of those pics…

Dollars And Scents

Continuing on from the post about my naked face, I decided to shop for aftershave / cologne fragrances. Oy, vey.

As I intimated, the last time I used this stuff at all was in the 1970s / early 1980s, so times have changed [sigh] and as always, not necessarily for the better.

I used to use Halston 1-12, but it’s no longer in production and while it’s still available — and cheap! — I fear starting to use something which is no longer made because after a while, it starts to cost more and more because of diminished supply.

And anyway, just because it smelled okay on me back then, there’s no guarantee it would still smell good on me now, because one’s body chemistry changes with age (I’m told).

So I would have to, I thought, start looking for a “new” fragrance and experiment over time to see which one would work — and just for the hell of it, I hie’d me off to Macy’s. Dear God.

Firstly, the prices… sheesh, I’m a guy, not a chick. You can’t expect me to spend $100 (or more) just for some smelly stuff, when there’s ammo to be bought from the same pitiful bank account.

Plus, I think that the product offerings are just proof of the Pussification Of The Western Man,, to coin a phrase, and I suspect that the fragrance people use the poxy inhabitants of the West Hollywood YMCA as product testers. A few samples:

Eros? by Versace? Nope. Next:

Perhaps if they spelled their name (and product) with a “U” instead of that pretentious Latin equivalent… but no. To proceed, then:

Sorry; Dior to me means “chick stuff” and while I am quite secure in my masculinity, I wouldn’t use a product called “Kotex” either, even if it came in 140-grain boat-tail softpoints.

Ditto anything made by some Spaniard, and also, did you see the price of it?  That’s five boxes of quality self-defense .45 ACP, at the discount price! Next!

“Chanel’s Bleu by Chanel” — from the Department of Redundancy Department. Also: Chanel? See “Dior”, above.

Even the perfumes in “masculine” packaging look as gay as Brian Boitano:

“Viktor and Rolf”?  “Spicebomb”?
A man could get some exotic venereal disease just by buying that stuff. To continue:

“Guilty” of what? Spending too much money on bullshit smelly stuff?

No no no no no. No. Clearly, I would have to resort to the more old-fashioned scents and/or potions. But which?

$105 for Ralph Lauren? It is, as they say, to laugh.

So I quit Macy’s because clearly I was looking in the wrong place, and headed off to Amazon.

Before I entered their online portal, however, I decided to do a little pre-research, because I was going to have to try more than one cologne, just to avoid problems with unsatisfactory smells etc. So I called up an old girlfriend (Skype is a godsend) to get her ideas on the topic.

“I remember liking the way you used to smell.” (After so many years… hubba hubba.)
“Do you remember what cologne I wore back then?”
“I liked the Old Spice… it always smelled fresh, you know?”
“Great. So I’ll get some of that…”
“Wait… I also liked English Leather on you. You wore it to that party at Carol Beith’s house, and I remember it.”
Better and better. “Remember the Halston 1-12?”
“Oh yes — YES! I loved that smell!” [pause] “Or was that the cologne that Kissy Foss [my replacement – K.] used? It’s SO long ago.”

So that was my research. I know, it’s a sample of only one ex-girlfriend — but I couldn’t do any more without running afoul of the restraining orders.

The next question, as I clicked on the Amazon link and started to enter product names in the search bar, was: does anyone still make these things anymore? Well now, lookee here:

…and just for kicks, and the hell with Kissy (his actual nickname) Foss:

English Leather wins out, on a cost per ounce basis anyway; but I’ll try them all, get some feedback from some of the (very few) women whose opinions I trust, and make my final decision. Then I’ll order a boatload of the winner, so that I won’t run out anytime soon.

Or maybe I’ll just grow my beard back.


Afterthought: In response to Reader goingtothefields (Welsh? no matter) in Comments, I need to tell y’all something.

I too know something about the fragrance business — back in the days of sailing ships, I worked at an ad agency whose client was Max Factor, and at whose behest I did a one-week course on fragrances: their types, their classifications, their histories and most tellingly, the trends.

As with all things, scents follow a pattern — one falls out of favor, another comes in, and the large perfumiers can actually predict what fragrances will be popular up to five years out: musk, floral, citrus, spice(s) and what have you are all combined in different measures to create the product, akin to the creation of blended whiskies and whose formulations are closely-guarded secrets..

It’s all a lot of bollocks, of course. Basically, the costs in the fragrance industry are 65% marketing, 20% packaging, 10% merchandising and 5% product: hence we end up paying retail prices of hundreds of dollars per ounce for perfume (as opposed to cologne / eau de toilette, which are cheaper, but less effective because of dilution).

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim,
I grew up in a very strict Jewish family, and when I reached my late teens I rebelled against the stupid rules and left home. Eventually, I got a job at a very nice pre-school kindergarten — as it happens, an Orthodox Jewish one — and things were going well. Then I met a man, fell in love and moved in with him.
Guess what happened next? The school fired me for ‘living in sin’! Can you believe it? What can I do now?”
– Shameless, London

Dear Sluttiness:
Let me get this straight: you hated the strict Jewish thing, so you left your family. Then – and I want to be sure I read this correctly – you found a job in an establishment that is the epitome of “strictly Jewish”, run by a group that has some very old-fashioned ideas about things like unmarital sex.

And you wonder why you were fired for shacking up? Can you even spell S-C-H-M-U-C-K? Did you also snack on pork pies and shrimp cocktails during your lunch breaks with the children? (Wouldn’t surprise me.)

The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you plan to compound your schande by suing the school for baseless termination, or some such idiocy.

Forget about it. You’re an idiot. And if your new husband has any sense, he’ll fire you too because morons like you should not be allowed to breed.

— Dr. Kim

What Have I Done?

Yesterday morning, a stranger’s face peered out of the mirror at me. This was because, in an uncharacteristically-impulsive action the night before, I shaved off my beard and mustache; and now, for the first time since Army boot camp in 1977, my face is naked.

Actually, it wasn’t impulsive. My facial hair grows like wildfire, and I just got sick of having to trim it about every other day. So I’m going to try this new look / sensation for a while*.

I grew a beard right after graduating from high school back in 1971, and even then I tired of trimming the damn thing — no Muslim-type ragged growth for me, thank you — but I was fortunate that I was always able to find a willing face-gardener to do the tiresome chore for me.

And speaking of which: several women in my long and checkered love life adored my beard and muzzie — one said that after kissing me, all other men felt like she was kissing a woman — but as my chances of ever kissing a woman in that way again are depressingly slim, I don’t really care. (And I’m going over to Britishland again in a few weeks so the odds grow even slimmer.)

Not that I’m looking to kiss a woman again, mind you. For one thing, cooties; and more importantly, that would require some kind of affection on my part, so fuhgeddabaht it.

I also trimmed my luxuriant British-styled hair back to its usual 3/4″ all-over length (no kidding, I did have my hair styled Over There), but that’s not really a change.

I think I look like a mugshot of a man wanted in twenty states for serial murder, but Doc Russia (who has a full, luxuriant Orthodox priest-type beard) thinks the clean shave makes me look younger.

Not that I care about that, either.

Thank goodness I have a decent badger-hair shaving brush and a choice between a single-edge (if I’m in a hurry) and straight razor (if I’m not). I do need to look at aftershave lotions, though; the last time I bought any was about 1979. Does anyone know if Halston still makes 1-12, or am I dating myself terribly by even suggesting it?


*No pics; I don’t do selfies and I can’t imagine why anyone would be interested in this nonsense either.