Bill Wilson Cleans His 1911

I love watching a pro go about his business, and let’s be honest that when it comes to the 1911 pistol, few if any are Bill’s equal.

Which is why a couple of things he says in this video made me go:  “Huh?  I did not know that*.”

And I’ve fired well over 50,000 rounds through various 1911 models.  Watch, and learn as I did.

*the life of a typical recoil spring was one of them.  I change mine a lot less frequently than he does, but that’s going to change, you betcha.

Getting Re-Acquainted

From Reader Scott O. comes this request:

My wife is interested in getting back into shooting. She grew up around guns and shooting but with the demands of child-raising her skills atrophied. She wants to remedy that situation and also to have a handgun of her own. Her ultimate goal is to have a home defense handgun that she can shoot proficiently which is also pleasant to shoot recreationally.

Our initial plan was to go to the local gun shop/range and rent a few to find one she liked. We did that a couple of times but it became apparent that she needs a lot of practice to regain her skills. We’re thinking now that we get her a .22 first and another handgun later. That would allow her to redevelop her skills at a lower cost and then when it comes time to get the larger caliber she can focus on choosing one that suits her without being distracted by poor marksmanship.

She much prefers revolvers, which is a bit of a problem since most of what’s on the market are semi-auto. Would you give your opinion on our plan and some advice on choosing a .22 revolver?

So far, you’re batting 1.000 in that you’ve done the logical first steps towards choosing the proper gun — renting different models, figuring out her preferred type, realizing that this would be the training piece prior to getting a home- / self-defense gun, and so on.  All good stuff, and well done.

Here are my thoughts.

  • Pick a .22 revolver which holds more than six rounds.  In the past, this was problematic, because few did;  nowadays, however, there’s a plethora of models available.  The reason I suggest this is that my own experience shows that just when you’re starting to get the hang of the shooting, there’s a “click” and you have to break your grip and stance to reload.  Also, more is almost always a good idea.
  • You didn’t say whether your wife is comfortable shooting a heavier gun like, say, the S&W 617 (which is a bit of a beast, relatively speaking).  If she isn’t, then you may want to disregard my recommendation above, and settle for a decent six-shooter instead.  However, if she’s going to shoot a heavier (self-defense) piece later, let’s assume that this is not a problem.
  • I myself prefer to shoot a single-action .22 revolver, but that’s because I like to take my time shooting rimfires.  Almost everyone else — and certainly beginners — prefer the double-action type, so I’m not going to argue the point.  Get a double-action revolver, then, but let me at least mention what I think is an excellent choice for a single-action 10-shot revolver:

Ruger Single-Ten (in short- or long barrel, blued or stainless)

…but as a longtime owner of the Single-Six version, allow me to mention that the old-fashioned reloading process is a PITA.  There are also cheaper options available (e.g. the Heritage Rough Rider or the Traditions model), but the Ruger has an adjustable rear sight and anyway, I’m assuming that you care for your beloved wife and want her to have the very best. [/wiseass]

Now for the double-action choices.  Here’s the aforementiond S&W model:

S&W Model 617 (with barrel-length options, stainless only)

…and just as nobody ever got fired for recommending IBM, nobody will ever sneer at your S&W revolver.  Good, reliable guns, albeit a tad spendy.

But here’s what I think is the best choice:

Ruger GP100 Standard


  • It’s a Ruger;  it ain’t gonna break.
  • The double-action trigger is a little heavy (because it’s a Ruger), but your local gun wizard can take care of that for you, as likely would a few bricks of practice ammo.  (And some .22 snap caps are your friend, for dry-firing practice:  true for whatever gun you finally decide on, of course.)
  • Ruger makes a .22 speedloader for the GP100, thus making the whole reloading thing a lot easier.  They are spendy ($35!) but if you think about it, that’s about what you pay for a semi-auto magazine.  I’d get two, minimum, so you can be reloading one while the Missus is shooting the other.  (By the way, you can also get a speedloader for the S&W 617, should you decide to go there.)

But to my mind, here’s the clincher for the GP100:

  • When your wife decides to go to a home-defense piece, the identically-framed GP 100 in .38 Special / .357 Magnum would be an excellent choice — less so as a carry piece, perhaps, but that’s all part of the compromise.  However, out of the box the new gun would feel familiar in hold, weight and trigger pull, which would be a compelling reason to get the .22 model first.

I’m a huge fan of the revolver as a bedside gun (I myself have a S&W Model 65 in .38 Special / .357 Magnum, for just that reason), so take that for what it’s worth.  Had I not happened upon a (long-since discontinued) Mod 65, however, the GP100 would undoubtedly have been my #1 choice.

And now I have to stop, because that 10-shot .22 GP100 bad boy is looking more and more desirable, and I am so weak…

Rather Die

There’s just no end to the madness:

Same sex couples score better than straight people in most sex studies, consistently across the board. Research shows they have better orgasms, more partner orgasms and more satisfying sex all round.

Really?  And just how do we quantify “better” orgasms, Sex Lady?  Describing an orgasm, any orgasm, to someone else is like trying to describe a sunset to a blind man in the first place.  Then, to define “better” in terms of “degrees of indescribable”?

Ah don’ thank so, Scooter.

Never mind that I’m never going to ask someone else for tips on having better sex — FFS, have we no decency nowadays? — and also because I’m not 15 anymore.

And frankly, if I wanted to know how lesbians pleasure other women, I’d hit the “Lesbo Porn” tag at

I don’t want to be part of this world anymore.

Fuck it, I’m off to the range.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim: 

“I’ve recently been reading about something called ‘andropause’, which is apparently something like women’s menopause. 

“Should I be worried about this?  I’m nearly 60.” 

— Apprehensive, Ohio

Dear Appy,

Back when we used fewer pretentious words, we called this “getting old”.  It happens to every man — even to Clint Eastwood — and it manifests itself in your body being less able to do the things it could once do quite easily:  lift heavy objects, run up stairs without feeling like your heart is going to give out, pee like a racehorse, grow hair on your head, see anything clearly at any distance without cataracts and.or glaucoma, and worst of all, have an erection pretty much on demand.

All this is pretty irritating because to be honest, you can’t stop it happening.  You can try to delay the process by doing foolish things like going to the gym or taking up jogging, but it’s a lost cause;  Nature is rightly regarded as female because she’s a cast-iron bitch and she hates men.

The worst part of all of this is that with this cessation of manly activity (“pause”, my ass) comes feelings of inadequacy, of having passed your prime (because you have) and knowing that your dreams of bonking some young hottie have vanished because a.) you’ve become invisible to hotties except to those with daddy issues and b.) even if you did miraculously manage to entice her to your bed the experience would likely be humiliating.

Nothing causes in-bed passion to disappear quicker than an attack of uncontrollable diarrhea, as my old buddy Patterson once explained to me.  And the drooping phallus before said attack didn’t exactly help matters, he added.

This is why old men become irritable.  They get upset over kids playing on their lawn, over their food being burned, over their favorite beer suddenly disappearing from the supermarket, and over the failing eyesight which causes hitherto-enjoyable trips to the gun range to become yet another failure among so many others, e.g. not remembering the name of the actress who once got your hormones racing and your erection to skyrocket.

And we haven’t even started to talk about Democrats.

Yes, it’s fucking depressing.  And typically, we don’t talk about it because we’re men and not women.  What we do is make bitter jokes about it, like the Rules For Old Men:

  1. Don’t make long-term investments (including buying green bananas)
  2. Never trust a fart
  3. Never waste an erection.

I have a cure for all of this by the way, and it’s called “Fuck It”.  Here are some examples.

  • If you can no longer hit the bullseye with your favorite rifle at 500 yards, move the target (much) closer and use a .22 instead.
  • Take a daily dose of Viagra (sildenafil), which may cause other physiological problems but so what — erections are more important than any of those, right?  Believe it or not, the ability to get an erection is more psychologically beneficial than people realize — and it’s a lot more effective than uppers or “mood adjusters” (as pushed by Big Pharma).
  • Accept that your looming death will not be a tragedy, but a blessed relief.  (It may well be a tragedy to your loved ones, but that’s not really your problem anymore, is it?)
  • Ignore all doctors, because they’re a bunch of killjoy busybodies and their advice, if not generally wrong, is usually going to require that you give up life’s little pleasures like warm buttered bread, single malt Scotch or red meat.
  • Forget all regrets.  In most cases, you can’t do anything about missed opportunities — seduction of your hot neighbor from twenty years ago didn’t happen then, and it ain’t gonna happen now — and continually kicking yourself about not having bought Microsoft or Apple stock back in the late 1970s when it cost $2.25 a share is as counterproductive as wishing you’d never married that bitch in the late 1970s as well.  Let it go.
  • Don’t worry about the fact that you may be dead when the Glorious Day comes and the Commies are being lined up against the wall.  I know, that sucks:  nobody wants to gun down Commies more than I do.  But if that wonderful opportunity escapes me because I’ve already moved to a dirt condo, at least I know that I’ve left enough ammo to my heirs so they can do the job for me.
  • Watch lots of porn, not because it turns you on but because it pisses off people like women and other Puritans.  Also, unlike regular movies, you don’t have to remember any of the performers’ names when talking to your buddies at the bar or VFW.
  • Carry a gun, everywhere.  Make your assailant’s life miserable, even at the cost of your own.  You are no longer able to brawl like you used to, so let John Moses Browning or Sergei Kalashnikov help you out instead.
  • Forget trying to learn stuff, other than for the sheer joy of acquiring knowledge.  Chances are you’re going to forget the details anyway, and in all probability, all the learning you’ve acquired so far will be more than adequate for your needs from now on.
  • Ignore everything that anyone from government tells you.  It’s either a blatant lie, or else it’s wrong.  If someone from the Census Bureau wants you to fill out some form which tells them all about you and your life, tell them to fuck off.  If some apparatchik demands that you show them some document or other, tell them you lost it.
  • Be prepared to accept the consequences of all the above advice.

I could go on, but I think the point has been made.

Unattainable Goals

One of the most irritating bits of bullshit I’ve had to deal with since I came Over Here in the Great Wetback Episode Of 1986 is the (Californian) affectation of wishing everyone a good day, which along with the “smile” button never fails to set my teeth on edge.

“Have A Good Day!” is unbearably trite and superficial, not to mention facile and asinine.

Telling a shop assistant or restaurant worker to have a good day is totally stupid:  how much of a good day can you possibly have when you’re serving the public?  At best, you won’t be killed for forgetting to put the fries into the takeout bag.

As New Wife (who also hates the expression) pointed out to me over the weekend, it’s not just its banality but its ambition, which is unreachable.

“A whole day?  That’s asking too much of the universe,” she said.  “We should just wish that their next ten minutes can be disaster-free.”

And don’t even get us started on “Live long and prosper”. Talk about overreach.

We are kindred souls.  Polite, but gloomily realistic.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“I’m a rather well-known Hollywood actor in my late 40s who has a reputation for only bonking dating women younger than 25 years old — in fact, I generally ditch them shortly after their 25th birthday.

“For some reason, this seems to have pissed some people off.  They say I should ‘date women my own age’ or ‘stop cradle-snatching’.

“Here’s my philosophy.  After they pass 25, all the women I’ve met start to droop and sag, and even worse they want to start breeding like rabbits, and this makes them very unattractive to me because post-baby bods have droopy boobs, doughy tummies and tunnel-vag syndrome.  Also, the thought of dating women around my own age makes me a little nauseated — I mean, I know chicks like Amanda Holden (53) and Salma Hayek (56) are totally hot, BUT:  they’re all married and they have kids.  While I’m not really averse to having kids of my own (in principle, anyway), I’d rather not have to look after someone else’s, especially as women of my age tend to have daughters aged 16-24, and you KNOW where that might lead.

“Actually, their bodies are only part of the problem.  Sure, the under-25s are kinda brainless (in the ignorance sense), but “older” women are, if you’ll excuse the expression, bat-shit crazy and neurotic (and believe me, I know what I’m talking about).  While the latter are more mature, their psychological problems are equally advanced, whereas the younger women just don’t seem to have those issues.

“Anyway, Dr. Kim, what do I do about all this date-shaming?”

— Just Call Me Leo

Dear Leo:

Tell ’em all to fuck off.  Seriously.  If that old hag Cher can date some beardless weenie forty years younger than herself and nobody kvetches or scolds her, then why should you worry?  It’s not like your fresh girlfriends don’t know the rules of the game, n’est-ce pas? and they all seem quite okay with it.  Maybe it’s the fact that you fulfill all their twisted little fantasies:  fame, a jet-set lifestyle, trendy parties, beach vacations on tropical islands or large yachts, lots of sparkly little presents and, lest we forget (and according to urban legend) they also get frequently serviced by a large male appendage.  No wonder there’s a long line of early-20 hotties outside your door.

You seem to have it all figured out, so why change?  But if you want to shut the scolds up for a while, hold your nose and fuck date a childless hottie between ages 28-32 for a while, and then all the Jealous Ones will say, “Ah, good!”  and turn their envious Karen-gaze elsewhere . Then, when they’re not looking, dump Miss Middle-Age and resume the sub-25 thing.  Your excuse:  “Hey, I tried!”

Know this, however:  you are the envy of all men on the planet, who would do exactly what you’re doing if they could.