SGT Cindy Bronson has a message for her fellow Americans in case martial law is declared: “Understand that if active duty military actually get deployed within the United States, that weapon is not just going to be pointed at other people, other countries, it’s pointed at you.”
…and here’s what I’ll be pointing at you:
Anyway, challenge accepted.
Mondays don’t matter if you’re a seal:
…unless there’s a killer whale in your immediate future; but for the rest of us, we have to face the week with a smile, lest we become all shooty and stuff. So:
And finally, a Reader’s nomination for the next (Republican) President’s Cabinet:
It could not possibly be any worse than the current one.
So, as always, a few Gratuitous Chick Pics to help you on your way.
Category: Vocalists.
I’d offer a prize of a box of ammo to anyone could name them all, but y’all would just go and Guggle them, so forget it.
Happy Monday.
Not their best, I’ll admit, but nevertheless it got its hooks into my cerebellum.
Old Hickock45 lays out his collection of .357 Mag revolvers, and asks the question: “Which is the very last .357 I’d sell?” (As always, he rambles on and on, but he’s a man who loves guns and loves shooting them — like me — so just sit back, relax and enjoy his dilemma.)
Now it may come as a surprise to you all, but VERY Longtime Readers may recall that the .357 Remington Magnum is not one of my favorite handgun cartridges to shoot, simply because the recoil gets a little tough on my wrists after a while and I develop a profound flinch in consequence. In fact, I’ve always though that the .357 is best fired out of a revolver with at least a 6″ barrel — certainly no less — and preferably, one with a bull barrel or at least a barrel underlug (NRA definition: “A term that relates most commonly to DA/SA revolvers, underlug refers to an integral extension of metal that runs along the bottom side of the barrel.”)
Now where Hitch and I part company are his criteria for his final choice: something that is fun to shoot at the range, and can also be pressed into service as a self-defense gun. (His eventual choice leans heavily towards the “self-defense” part.) I am certainly not going to argue with his final choice, and especially not with his top three, because mine would be pretty much the same.
My criteria for “the last .357 I’d ever sell” would be (in no specific order): fun at the range, Governor’s BBQ, and in-home (not carry) self-defense.
I don’t have fun shooting a .357 Mag revolver with anything less than a 6″ barrel, and preferably one with a 6″ barrel AND an underlug. It has to be beautiful, and of course it could see duty on my nightstand. (For carry, I’m going to stick with a semi-auto, most probably a 1911.)
Here are my Top 3 (in no specific order):
Ruger Redhawk:
I had one of these (before the Great Poverty Catastrophe of 2012), and it was good right out of the box. A little work on the trigger, and it was fantastic. I know, this Ruger’s barrel is 7.5″, but it also doesn’t have an underlug; and anyway, I happen to like Rugers with 7″ barrels.
Colt Python:
No trigger work required on this baby, of course. In Colt’s Royal Blue, the Python is arguably one of the most beautiful guns ever made. That it has inarguably the best revolver trigger action ever made, and its hairsplitting accuracy all just add to its desirability.
S&W 686:
Nothing wrong with the 686; I’ve owned two before, but this one is lovely.
I won’t spoil the ending of the video and reveal Hitchcock’s choice, but I think you all know which one you’d have to pry from my cold dead fingers…
Afterthought: a couple of pics of some from my onetime collection of .357 Mag revolvers:
(sigh) And there’s not a single one I wouldn’t take back in a heartbeat.
At least I’ve now got a replacement Model 65, so there’s that.
I was truly saddened to read of the death of Ted Dexter at the age of 86. Very few Americans would know who he is, but allow me to make the introduction.
Over ten years, “Lord Ted” Dexter played cricket for England for 62 international Test matches, of which he was captain of the team for 30. He scored thousands of runs, took dozens of wickets as a bowler, and after retiring from cricket went on as a team selector and chairman of the Marylebone Cricket Club (Lord’s). Throughout his life, he was unfailingly helpful to young cricketers, always polite and ready with some good advice.
For most men, that would be enough.
He was also a scratch golfer, a pilot (who flew from the UK to Australia, and back), rode a motorcycle and once ran for Parliament.
He failed at the last — one of his few failures — but that leads me to tell a personal story about the man.
By running for Parliament in 1964, Ted missed the start of the England tour of South Africa, but he was back in the side in time for the Test at at the Wanderers cricket ground in Johannesburg, where an excited young boy of eight (that would be me) happened to be sitting in the stands with his dad one row back from the field, right at the point where Ted was fielding.
Of course, “Lord Ted” didn’t just stand there in the field; he turned and bantered with the crowd, who responded delightedly. He had a bright red stain on his white cricket trousers where he’d been polishing the cricket ball, and one wag in the crowd yelled, “What happened to your pants?” Ted laughed and said, “It’s hot out here.”
Whereupon the same guy said, “Would you like a cold one, Uncle Ted?” and Dexter laughed and said, “Next over.”
When he came back to field in his earlier position, he walked right over to the boundary fence and said, “Where’s that cold one?” Of course, someone popped a can of Castle Lager and handed it to him — whereupon Ted put his head back and drained the thing in one giant swallow, to tumultuous applause. Needless to say, every time he came back to the boundary he was offered a fresh beer, but after one more he said, “Thanks, but I still have to bat later,” to much good-natured ribbing. (“Maybe tomorrow, Ted; you’re not going to get us all out today!”)
Oh, and to finish Ted Dexter’s story: he was married to the same woman for over sixty years. Nowadays, that’s considered quite a feat; to a man like him, it would be quite unremarkable.
He was one of my boyhood heroes, and still is today.
R.I.P. Ted Dexter, OBE.
At Breitbart News, Paul Bois talks about whether the foul Taliban will be able to use all the weaponry and materiel left behind by our incompetent military.
Frankly, that’s not the point. Nobody cares if the Turbans can use the stuff, what’s really worth discussing is why the military didn’t destroy all of it before they left?
I mean, we’re all chuckling ho ho ho as we watch videos of the Taliban trying to fly a chopper and not being able to get it off the ground; what’s not so funny is that the Iranians, Chinese and all the other assholes of the world are probably lining up to buy it all so that they can hack into the high-tech stuff, where that knowledge can be used against us in the future.
It is a monumental fuck-up, and every senior officer who allowed the equipment to be just left behind without destroying it should be court-martialed. Ditto their superiors who made no provision for doing so in their evacuation orders. But they were probably too busy making plans for Covid vaccinations of the troops and scheduling CRT lectures to bother, is my guess.
I have to quit now because blood pressure.