News Roundup

Here we go again:



not to mention all that “undocumented shopping” going on.


doing the job that the Feddle Gummint won’t, the motherfuckers.



more like a by-product of American feminism, but whatever.


you mean, like when Trump was President?


and you’re absolutely not a fucking fascist, you rancid old bitch.


to the surprise of absolutely nobody.


you mean, Future POTUS DeSantis.

From the Dept. Of Suckage:


sad, but understandable.  Thanks for all the hard work, guys.

MORE FALLOUT FROM THE “JON GRUDEN EMAIL SCANDAL”
and if I gave a shit about the NFL or what it was doing, this would be upsetting.

And now, some more INSIGNIFICA:

   

And speaking of things being good enough to eat:

Call me a far right-wing extremist, then… and by the way, Bone Daddy’s “burnt ends” are addictive.

Imaginary Conversations

On my last trip up to Boomershoot, it was just me and the Son&Heir (aged about 16) in the old F-150 FX4 making the three-day-up, three-day-down journey.

On the way up, we drove along Idaho Rte 55:

…whereupon I stated idly:  “I wouldn’t mind retiring to a little cabin up there against the foothills”, to which the Son&Heir replied, “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”
“Because I’ll still be living in Texas, and I’ll be damned if I have to fly back up here every time I get a call from the sheriff.”
“What do you mean, call from the sheriff?”

And the fruit of my loins (and heir to my gun safes and their contents) proceeded to have the rest of this conversation all by himself, complete with the appropriate accents.

“Jack?  Sheriff Johnson here, up in Valley County.”
“Oh God, what’s he done now?”
“He’s shooting at trucks driving along the main road again.”
“Didn’t we take all his rifles away from him the last time?”
“Yeah, except his .22s.  And he’s using them now.”
“Why this time?”
“He says they make too much noise and disturb his peace.”
“But he’s as deaf as a rock.”
“Can you come up and talk to him?  Next time I’ll have to arrest him, and you know what happened the last time we tried to do that.”
“Is the deputy okay?”
“Well, he doesn’t have to use that walking stick anymore.”

“Dad, you have to stop shooting at trucks from the porch.”
“Why?  I gotta keep my eye in.”
“Well, for one thing, it’s against the law.”
“It’s a stupid fucking law.  Trucks are noisy;  isn’t there a law against making a public racket?”
“Dad, we talked about this last time.”
“And it’s only a little .22 bullet, anyway.  At that range, you’d hardly feel it even if it hit you, and anyway, I’m only aiming at the trailers, not the drivers.”

“Yeah,” the Son&Heir concluded, turning to me, “just tell me that all this could never happen.”

I had no answer.

Point And Shoot

Interesting article about “point” vs. “aimed” (using the sights) handgun shooting.

One of the things Tarani didn’t talk about is that point shooting offers people with totally shit eyesight (like me) the chance to hit the target without taking half an hour to align fuzzy sights with an indistinct target.  This is why my recent handgun acquisitions have tended towards guns with rudimentary or no rear sights, e.g. the S&W Mod 65:

…and my backup Mod 637 has never had a rear sight:

Note that both are essentially short-range weapons:  the Mod 65 has bedside duty for those little indoor reindeer games, and the Mod 637 is for those occasions where the intended target is in halitosis range.

Neither my 1911 nor High Power have an adjustable rear sight:

…which means that for all intents and purposes, my target shooting days are over.

Which is also why nowadays my practice with the above are all point-shooting drills resulting in targets that look messy, like this:

…which, I would respectfully suggest, should be adequate for the job at hand.