Alternative History

About once a month, the Fiend Mr. Free Market sends me listings of guns which he (rightly) thinks will make me drool.  Here’s one, from Holt’s Auctions, an exquisite double rifle in .303:

However, what grabbed me was not the gun, but an anecdote and observation (bold) from its onetime owner the Duke of Portland:

The Portlands received Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria at Welbeck Abbey for a week in 1913 when the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne visited England. During the stay he took the Archduke shooting on the estate when, according to Portland’s memoirs, Men, Women and Things:

“One of the loaders fell down. This caused both barrels of the gun he was carrying to be discharged, the shot passing within a few feet of the Archduke and myself.  I have often wondered whether the Great War might not have been averted, or at least postponed, had the Archduke met his death there and not at Sarajevo the following year.

Fascinating thought.

Incomprehensible Witch

Over at Taki’s place, Ted Dalrymple takes aim (metaphorically speaking;  he’s a Brit) at some total loony university professor:

Professor MacCormack’s book defeated me, not only sapping my will to read further but inducing a state almost of catatonia.  It certainly cured me, at least temporarily, of my obsessional desire to finish any book that I have started.  Her style made  The Critique of Pure Reason  seem as light and witty as  The Importance of Being Earnest.  She appears to think that the English plural of manifesto is manifesti rather than manifestos;  I admit that it conjured up in my mind a new Italian dish, gnocchi manifesti.
Open the book at any page and you will find passages that startle by their polysyllabic meaninglessness combined with the utmost crudity.  By chance, I opened the book to page 144 and my eye fell on the following:

The multiplicity of becoming-cunt as an assemblage reassembles the tensors upon which it expresses force and by which force is expressed upon its various planes and dimensions.

And Dalrymple notes:

I have known deteriorated schizophrenic patients to speak more sensibly and coherently than this.

No kidding.  Let’s take a look at this paragon of literacy, shall we?

…and not in drag:  

This Oz bint is, and I quote:  “a professor of continental philosophy at Anglia Ruskin University in Cambridge, England” (whatever “continental philosophy” may be).  Also, Anglia Ruskin University is not part of Cambridge University, but a separate school with campuses scattered across several towns, Cambridge being but one of them.

One wonders what John Ruskin (after whom it’s named) would think of this example of its academic excellence.

 

Inconsequential

Apparently there’s a big hoo-hah about where Major League Baseball is going to play their so-called “All-Star” game this year because Georgia is an eeevil place because they want to prevent voter fraud such as happened in the 2020 elections.  Other states have weighed in (notably Texas), and so on and so on.

In the first place, MLB should call the All-Star game what it really is — the Steroid Festival — but what really gives me the giggles is that they think that their sport, or any sport come to think of it, matters more than a pitcher’s mound of beans in the grand scheme of things.

I note with great pleasure that the PGA has not got involved in this wokism, because unlike baseball, they know which side their bread is buttered on.  (Boycotting Georgia, when the Masters Tournament is played at Augusta?  Don’t make me laugh.)  Still on the subject of buttered bread, MLB seems to have forgotten who comprises their core fan base, and playing little wokester games is probably not high on the list of priorities for that group.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of shills and fraudsters.

As for the rest of us — that growing number of people like myself who are becoming disaffected with corporate wokism and alienated from all the companies that practice it — where MLB plays their little All-Star game matters less than a flat tire on a pickup.

Change Of Plan: Boomershoot ULD Rifle

Well, the best laid plans etc. etc.

Everyone should now be aware that this year’s Boomershoot rifle was obtained, I decided on the Savage Apex Predator in .308 Win:

So it arrived, and I collected it from my local Merchant Of Death.  Which is where things started to go sideways.

Guys, look:  if you’ve handled and fired enough rifles — in the many hundreds — you get to where you can get a “feel” for a rifle as you take it out of the box.  And when I took this Savage out of the box, it didn’t feel right.  I know that my preference for wooden stocks is well known, but then again I’ve handled (and owned) scores of plastic-stocked rifles as well;  and this one felt flimsy.  It felt more flimsy than my Marlin SSQ .22 rifle, to be frank.  The barrel also looked a little on the thin side — 20″ is marginal in term of length, and it was fluted.  Had the rifle been chambered in .223 Rem or even .243 Win, I’d probably not have worried too much;  but in .308 Win?  I had a bad feeling about it.

Anyway, I took it to the range, and after giving it a light oiling, I set to ranging it in.

And met with utter failure.  Let’s start with the easy stuff, first.

The rifle would not shoot consistently.  I would get two rounds into a single hole or a keyhole-touching “Mastercard” hole, and then the third would go off into the wild blue yonder, 2″ or even 4″ away.  This pattern repeated itself over the next twenty or so rounds, whereupon I quit because the barrel was super-hot (and I was not shooting quickly);  but worse, I quit because my right hand was getting a fat bruise from working the bolt handle.

The fired cartridges were binding in the chamber.  I mean, really binding.  People joke about needing a mallet to pull a Mosin-Nagant’s bolt back, right?  I would have killed for a mallet.  In fact, at about round #25 I gave up.  The only reason I persisted as long as I did was because I originally thought it was just “new rifle” syndrome or something, but it actually got worse as I went along.

Broken.  So I took it back to the gun store, and asked what to do next:  would they send it back to Bud’s Gun Shop?  No.  I would have to do this all by myself.  (Had I bought the gun at the Merchant Of Death, it would have been different;  but as they were just the conduit, so to speak, they weren’t interested, and probably justifiably so.)

So I contacted Bud’s Gun Shop to see how I could get it back to them, and get a refund — I wasn’t interested in getting a replacement — only to hear from Bud’s that because the rifle is still under manufacturer’s warranty, I’d have to send it back to Savage.  (I won’t go any further into detail about this, as it’s ongoing.  My problem is that I didn’t pay Savage for the gun;  I paid Bud’s, and this may get nasty.)

Anyway, there I was, stuck with a non-working gun, and moreover, a gun that I wasn’t comfortable with in the first place.  And, of course, time is ticking away because I have to leave for Boomershoot on April 27th — three weeks’ time.

Clearly, this called for a change of plan, so here it is:

It’s the CZ 557 Varmint, with a 26″ heavy barrel and a proper bench-type stock.  When I was complaining to the guys at the MoD, I happened to see this on the rack — not too difficult, they only had a few rifles on the rack anyway — and I was expecting to find it in some other caliber;  but no, there it was in .308 Win.  So into the car it went.

It came without a scope, but I’d already got a Vortex 6-24x50mm (to replace the inadequate “package” 4-12x44mm scope which came with the Savage), so I popped that on the CZ.   Except, of course, all my boresighting gear is buried somewhere under the our furniture stacked in my garage, waiting for the flooded apartment’s rehab to be finished.

But what the hell:  I sorta-lined the thing up with the barrel (Warne CZ High rings), and took it to the range yesterday morning.  I put up a large blank paper target with a 1″ orange target dot in the middle, sent it out to 50 yards, and touched off three rounds:

To say I felt relieved would be a huge understatement.  Also, the CZ’s trigger is not a “set” trigger like I’m used to with the brand, but a single-stage number which got smoother and smoother the more I fired it.  Here’s the final target, consisting of three 3-round strings, with scope adjustments between each.  (The overshooting between the point of aim — the orange dot below the diamond — and the point of strike is because I’ll be shooting 8″ boomers at 500-600 yards distance.)

As for the third string:  the flyer was the second shot, and it was operator error, because I paused to take a breath or two after the first shot, and when I exhaled and got into position, Stupid Kim’s finger was on the trigger while I was moving the rifle into position.  So:  unintended discharge (I know, I know) — but the third shot was right back to where it should be.

It’s an absolute beauty, and therein lies our problem.

While the Savage was a budget rifle (around $700 landed at the MoD), the CZ ended up costing just over $950;  and I used the Boomershoot travel fund to pay for it.  In other words, I need y’all to buy a dozen or more tickets to cover the difference.  (Only the difference:  I’ll get the money back for the Savage, never fear — it might just take a while, and the time is ticking away.)

Just so we’re all clear on the topic, though:  this CZ 557 is an excellent rifle, and in the hands of a better shooter will be capable of doing one-hole groups all day.  This is not a budget rifle, as I’d originally planned:  it can hold its own against rifles that cost twice as much, and nobody will ever sneer when you take it out of its case.  So for those of you who held back on getting a ticket because of the “budget” rifle thing:  this is a whole ‘nother ball game, and if ever there was a rig which calls out “serious shooter”, this is it.

Please help me out.


Lessons learned:  if I do this again for next year’s Boomershoot, I’m going to buy the rifle in January, and most probably in 6.5mm Creed, which will give me a chance to get the whole rig settled in properly.

My only regret, now, is that I didn’t get the Zeiss / Meopta / Minox glass as I did last year — but the Vortex seems to be doing just fine.

Maniac

The above word being used in its most positive sense, that is, when describing a British Army officer who fought the whole of World War II with a broadsword and longbow as his personal weapons (!!!).  (Also a set of bagpipes, but let’s not go there.  He wasn’t even Scottish.)

Here’s “Mad Jack” Churchill’s story (watch the video first), and his boring Wikipedia entry.   “War hero” doesn’t even begin to describe a man who was decorated four times for bravery under fire.  He should have got the V.C. and probably would have, except that the world ran out of wars for him to fight.

Read and watch it all.

News Roundup

…and then there’s this kind of news:


which is when the Border Patrol should have started shooting, “to protect the senators’ lives”.


can’t see why she’s upset; it saves her having to move twice, when President Braindead is tossed out of the WH.


which in the case of classical music, is clearly true.

And still on the theme of “Campus Foolishness”:


which is fine — just as long as the total cost of reparations is added to their student loans.


somebody please tell me this is an April Fool’s Day joke.


and if you thought the Eyeties were being overrun by Arab and African refugees before


cue sad violin music:


no doubt just the latest in a whole series of kitchen screwups which finally caused him to snap.


hamster, meet Mr. Garbage Disposal.


just the latest in our “Extreme Self-Delusion” series.

Now it’s time for INSIGNIFICA:

    

And finally:


Okay, I admit that this particular pic wasn’t in the actual photo shoot, but whatever.