CCW Story Part 13: Dr. Strangelove. Or: How I stopped worrying, and learned to love others' poor muzzle discipline at the range

A sudden movement on my left drew my attention. Bruce was rushing towards the man with the walker, who was looking down the barrel of his loaded revolver, his finger on the trigger. Bruce grabbed the man's hand and forced the muzzle back downrange. The barrel waving and bobbling, the man fired a few more random shots towards the target, and then squeezed and squeezed on the trigger, but nothing happened. Shaking, he started to turn the pistol to his left, and began, once again to look down the revolver’s muzzle with a puzzled expression as if to see what was wrong. Quick as a flash, Bruce returned and grabbed the man's hand again. With force, he pointed the shaking hand and the pistol downrange.

"I am having trouble pulling the trigger". The man said.

"Keep your Ha-weapon pointed downrange at all times"! Bruce ordered.

At this point I wondered at the sanity of the State in even allowing such an exercise to continue. Bruce had never had to mention not to look down the barrel of your own loaded gun, as he (and I, and I assume the State, NRA and the entire population of America minus one) had assumed that no one would ever do this very stupid very dangerous thing. We had all been wrong. I began to wonder about all of the "following the rules", comments. I could have never even imagined this scene. It was as if Peter Sellers as Dr. Strangelove was waving a pistol at everyone, and even himself with that black gloved hand that had a mind of it's own. In a flash of recognition, I realized what a pair of brass balls Bruce had, not to mention reflexes and peripheral vision to grab the wandering, lethally armed Strangelove hand and put it in it's place. This is the kind of man that walks into burning buildings to save strangers, who walks point on night patrol in the Sandbox, who pulls over homicidal maniacs at 2:00 am on a Saturday night and still sleeps like a baby. In my mind Bruce got up out of the couch next to GW, put down his Budweiser and left the Dolt room, never to return. GW then grabs the remote and switches to an infomercial plugging nose hair clippers and watches intently with his mouth hanging a little bit open as Bruce pads down the hall and turns the corner and enters the Hall of Heroes.

CCW Story Part 12: A Liberal With His Finger On The Trigger

I looked downrange to gauge the ability of the other shooters. The young man in lane one had produced a respectable pattern with his Springfield XD, not as good as my wife's but he had kept a tight group. The Biker's target looked like he had thrown a handful of M&Ms at it in a fit of blind rage. The Glock twins were even worse, with a random sprinkling of holes, in each target as if they had placed their targets out in short, violent acid rain. The handicapped man was still slowly taking halfhearted potshots downrange. Next to my wife, the Gun Waving Baptist's target was better than the Bikers. He looked at his target, with it's basketball sized spread and then at the nickel sized hole my wife had shot in her target.

"Man”! He mouthed, through the earplugs, "She is good"!

I nodded at him and looked next to him at the Crazy Lady's target, which was worse than the Glock Twins. Last in line was the Geezer, who was on par with the Crazy Lady. My turn was next, my wife handed me the loaded Kahr. I slowly fired 12 rounds at the center of the target only 3 yards away, stopping to swap magazines half way through. I remembered Bruce's instruction, keeping space between my trigger finger and the receiver. I concentrated on my breathing, my sight picture, on keeping my finger off of the trigger until ready to fire. I, the reluctant liberal who had never owned a handgun, somehow managed to fire the smallest group of any of my concealed carry classmates. It was a tighter group than the frequent shooters and the NRA sympathizing concealed carry permit seekers had managed. Most importantly, I had shot a better group than my wife’s. I could tell she was pissed at me. I giggled. Suddenly the exercise seemed comical. I was better than them at their own game, and didn’t even want to be. I backed away from the firing line, leaving the Kahr with magazines removed and slide locked back pointing downrange as Bruce had taught us. Next, Bruce had us move our targets to 7 yards. My wife once again shot dead center and with a single outlier, kept all her shots in a two-inch circle.

CCW Story Part 11: Bullets Fly

Then the moment arrived, as Bruce instructed us to load our ammunition and roll the targets out to 3 yards. I watched my wife shoot first, as she unloaded the Kahr's 6 rounds of Smith and Wesson .40 caliber dead center into the target, punching a nickel-sized hole where the X had once been. She was used to putting lead into paper at twenty yards, so three seemed like a turkey shoot. I glanced at the target to the left of me. The handicapped man was sitting on a small bench on his walker, holding the 0.38 in what can only be described as a "Highly Modified" weaver stance. His pistol propped up on the reloading tray, the muzzle tracing lazy figure eights over the target, he popped off a couple of rounds. There were several random holes in the target in front of him. I became alarmed, at the mental image of this man with a gun, accosted by criminals. I feared for him trying to arrange a sitting position in a hurry, working the walker and gun simultaneously.

“Didn’t the State require that the marksmanship portion had to be done standing”? I wondered. I realized that if a person is carrying both a walker and a gun, they should be held to the same testing standards as everyone else.

CCW Story Part 10: Final Instructions

Our local indoor range has 10 lanes, allowing each concealed carry applicant to shoot at once. As my wife and I shared her Kahr K-40, I watched her and the other shoot first, and then swapped with her and shot last. In lane one, we had the young African American man with a Springfield Arms XD. Next to him in lane two was the Biker who had a decided on a Para 1911. In lanes 3 and 4 were the Glock twins firing 9 mm rounds. Lane five was occupied by the handicapped man, who had a combo walker/stool. He was renting a 0.38 caliber revolver. My wife and I were in lanes 6 and 7, with the Taurus waving Bapticostal in lane eight, crazy lady renting a 0.38 revolver in nine and the geezer with his 1950's 38 revolver in lane ten. Bruce laid out the safety rules once again. I was beginning to take a shine to Bruce, as he was proving to be a safety first kind of guy. Bruce hung X-8 targets at each station and showed us how to run out the targets using the control switches, and how to work the lights. Next he showed us the location of the electric eye that marks the edge of the firing line. Should anything cross it, an alarm sounds. Bruce instructed us to stop firing, set our Ha-weapon down, and step back from the line, should the alarm sound.

The Bling-Bling Rifle Craze

Merry Christmas, American consumers. Did you get what you wanted under your druid tree? Did you sit on Santa's lap and ask him for a tactical rail and night vision equipment for your Black Rifle? If you are an AR freak, and were good last year, your rifle might now look like this:

Gun Nut Vanity Meets a Thick American Wallet (The Bling-Bling Rifle).

For my liberal, non firearms savvy readers here is a simple primer:

In the USA, marketing techniques are used to sell firearms, much like the same marketing ploys are used to used to sell fleece sweaters or underarm deodorant. There is a huge aftermarket business in add-ons for firearms. For the average user, these add-ons serve as much to make the rifle "look better" as to provide useful functions that the owner will realistically need. Interestingly, appearance seems to be as important to firearms owners as functionality.

A common buzzword used as a marketing tool in the firearms industry is "Tactical". You, as a liberal can exchange the word "cool" for "tactical" when related to firearms marketing, and you pretty much have it. The word tactical appears on everything from the firearms themselves, to belts, gloves, glasses, and all sorts of bolt on accessories. The rifle pictured above is equipped to help the shooter aquire targets via IR and laser systems, and also to "look good" like a car decked out with bling-bling wheels.

Personal Transportation Vanity Meets a Thick American Wallet (Bling-Bling Wheels).

Moving to the AK camp: For less than the cost of the night vision silliness bolted to the AR in the picture above, you cold get a WASR-10 AK-47 clone with iron sights, and complete with two thirty round magazines, and enough Wolf ammo to clean several US states out of deer.

In the Kalashnikov Camp, Cooler Heads Prevail.

That is not to say that there is not the AK equivalent to the Bling-Bling Rifle pictured at the top of this post. Like many Red Blooded Americans, Sadddam Hussein and his family were also gun nuts. Pictured below is a AK-74 recovered in London's Heathrow airport after American troops attempted to smuggle it back in the the good ol' USA.

I believe that marketing the Saddam Rifle would be a poor business decision for a company looking to sell guns in the US. There are several reasons American consumers would not want to buy a clone of the rifle below.

1. It was not designed by Eugene Stoner
2. It is hard to find ACOG and Aimpoint sights in gold
3. Massad Ayoob does not own one
4. It would look "Queer" in the gun rack of the '84 Chevy above the Mossberg 500

Gun Nut Vanity Meets a Thick Iraqi Wallet (Actually a cheap gun, but he had cases of them).

Gun buyback in Compton worth a shot

This story ought to give Tam the vapors. I am curious to see if the local firearm homicide rate goes down as a result of the firearm buyback in Compton. I am glad to see that Circuit City was participating, at least they are trying to improve their community. Now my card carrying NRA member friends can all buy their electronic goods at Best Buy.

LiberalCCW MegaCar Sold

The LiberalCCW MegaCar was sold this week to Guido "The Pig" Detone of Hoboken NJ. Guido had the LiberalCCW MegaCar shipped to Lefty's Guns and Concrete, Inc. in Hoboken, the local FFL. Guido paid the $125,000 for the LiberalCCW MegaCar in cash from a black briefcase, in small, unmarked bills. Guido was nice enough to come personally to pay for the MegaCar, and was accompanied by several gentleman friends in trench coats.

If you ever pass through Hoboken and see Guido and his buddies driving around in the Liberal CCW MegaCar, be sure to smile, wave and say hello. I would, however advise against honking at Guido and his pals.

CCW Story Part 9: The Written Test

Bruce chose to ignore the presence of the Glock Twins' loaded magazines. I began to wonder about his eyesight. As Bruce began to lecture, I noticed my wife beginning to giggle, then she punched me in the arm. "What"? I mouthed to her. "It really pisses me off that you had to bring up his mispronunciation of weapon", she hissed. Now I can't concentrate on anything else". Bruce next covered the basics of the written test, going over the questions and answers from first to last. Then came time for the test, 5 sheets or so of typo and misspelling laden multiple choice and true-false questions written at junior high level English. My wife and I finished in about 15 minutes, along with the rest of the class. Everyone sat silent. One of the Glock twins worked away at his test. Fifteen minutes later he was still at it. After 45 minutes, he finished, and everyone headed downstairs for the final smoke break before the shooting test. My wife and I speculated about the Glocker's mental abilities, probably dyslexic we agreed.

CCW Story Part 8: Firearms Arrogance

We broke for lunch. My wife and I went to the local Salsa bar. Sitting under an umbrella at the front curb of the restaurant, my wife asked, "So what do you think so far"?

"Well". I replied. "The only thing that is really driving me nuts is Bruce's mispronunciation of Ha-Weapon".

She hadn’t noticed.

Our orders from Bruce were to bring our ha-weapons up to the classroom after lunch. "Do not – I repeat Do NOT bring any ammunition into the classroom". Bruce said.

So what do I see when I re-enter the classroom with a belly full of beans and salsa? The Frat-boy-Glock twins sitting at a table covered with loaded magazines and ammo boxes, toying with little piled pyramids of bullets, smiling away and happily dry firing their Glocks at the floor.

"What the hell"? I asked myself, and then it dawned on me. The majority of people cannot follow simple rules, and consider themselves to be a valid exception. Gun people always say that the problem is not the guns, but the people who don't follow the rules with guns. So far four of the ten people in the classroom had either broken rules about guns in the past, were breaking them now, or had hinted at a deep rooted desire to break them in the future. I was sitting in a classroom full of the very people that my gun friends said were the problem.

I have a female friend who had a concealed carry permit. She ascribes to the "They need to enforce the rules they have on guns, not take guns away" policy. We once went together to a restaurant that serves alcohol and I asked her if she was going to leave her pistol in the car.

"Hell no", she said, "What if some nut comes in here with a gun, what good is mine going to do me in my car"?

"It's against the law to carry in this restaurant, don't you need to obey the law that we already have, a law you said they should be enforcing"? I asked.

"It's a stupid law" she said, "So I am not going to follow it".

I have a term for this, "Firearms Arrogance", a combination of Ignorance and Carelessness that would never be acknowledged by the gun owner. It's the reverse of NIMBY, OIMBY: Only In My Backyard. OIMBY is the mindset of "I am capable of handling my guns, even if most people aren’t, therefore I can do what I want with them, regardless of the law". Many insiders consider all firearms accidents to be related to either ignorance or carelessness, I believe that many firearms incidents can also be directly linked to firearms arrogance, or the direct denial of firearms ignorance and carelessness when related to an individual's actions.

It is interesting to look at the drowning accidents involving children in the US, which are also arguably caused by ignorance and or carelessness. In cold numbers the loss of children's lives per annum via accidental drowning (1,081 per annum since 1999 via the CDC) in the US and then the same age group in firearms accidents (115 per annum since 1999 via the CDC) shows a nine fold discrepancy. Unfortunately, those accidental drowning deaths never make the national news, unless the victim is the child of a celebrity. Why not? What is the difference between a child who can't swim left unsupervised at a swimming pool and a child left unsupervised with a gun? Comments?

Canine Accidents

My wife had a pet Collie when we got married, and he was old, sixteen to be exact. He suffered from health problems, most notably, ballistic diarrhea. Add to this that he had a lousy sense of direction, and that he got tired and laid down frequently, and you get a dog that tended to be covered in his own poo.

As all of these ballistic events occurred on the tile floor of our apartment's kitchen, which we called "The Rocket Range", we mopped the floor and washed the collie daily. The problem was that he began to do this three times a day. I would come home from work and give him the 5:30 bath, followed by the 8:00 and then The Niner. It got to be too much, and I told my wife this one day. She said:

"Lets pray that there are solid turds on the floor instead of diarrhea".

I found praying for solid turds funny, but was desperate. We prayed. Hard.

When we got home, and opened the door, we found solid turds. I have never been so happy to see a turd on the kitchen tile in my life.

After the collie, we got a mutt. He has not had a health related diarrhea problem yet. His bouts with Montezuma have all been self inflicted.

One memorable event occurred after he ate about two cups of uncooked millet that he managed to pull onto the floor. All was well that evening, but in the middle of the night, the millet swelled from two cups to about four cups in volume. We heard him whimpering in the middle of the night, but due to the lack of his customary "I need out" bark, we left him alone.

As the early riser, I discovered the cause of the whimpering. Our mutt's digestive system must be about two cups in volume. I can only imagine what a carnivore's digestive tract must feel like after gorging on dry birdseed, then drinking copious amounts of water. Some time in the middle of the night, he couldn’t hold it, and he went. He went on the floor. He went on his bed. He went on the wall, on the fridge door. He even went in his food and water bowls. Luckily, we pen him in the kitchen at night. He went on the dog gate. It was obvious that when he went, he went under pressure. There was millet mixed with poo on the wall sans smears well above the height of his afflicted posterior. It looked like he had tried to fend off a zombie apocalypse with a Remington 1100 Tactical loaded with crap and millet, and he had piss poor aim.

Gagging, I cleaned up millet and crap for thirty minutes, and then took a look at the dog. He did not look happy, he had an urgent expression on his face. I give him credit for staying clean. The Collie would have wallowed in the vile mix and come out looking like a cross between a millet sprig and a wookie. The mutt is smarter, and had stayed clean by laying in a two foot square safe zone. I leashed him up and took him out.

He did his "John Deere" impression and pulled me to his favorite patch of grass. He immediately assumed the position, and let out another high velocity string of millet laden bolides. He paused for a moment and his legs began to shake under the strain. He passed another round, and gave me a mournful look, as he hunkered there, trembling. My wife took him out later and said that he gave a repeat performance that afternoon, but the millet onslaught was showing signs of abatement.

He has not gotten into millet since.

Cheap and Recycled Gifts at Christmas

The holiday season, the season of giving. My dad is famous for his cheap gifts. I say cheap, I mean free. Among past gifts are what he calls "Road Kill Tools". When out walking, he gleans the roadside for tools that have fallen off of pickup trucks. Sockets, screwdrivers, you name it. I have gotten slightly dinged craftsman and snap-on sockets this way. I suspect that he keeps the good ones, and only gives Road Kill Tools to me if he has duplicates. Another memorable gift on Christmas was a gold colored coin holder that he picked up at good will. I was less than impressed with the coin holder, so the next year he re-wrapped it and gave it to me again at Christmas. He figured I might enjoy it more the second time.

Several years ago, he gave me a combo "Radio Update Clock" and indoor outdoor thermometer from Radio Shack. What impressed me the most was that the gift was still in the original box, unopened. The box didn’t have tire marks on it either. All was well until half way through the first week using the clock. It tended to run precisely one hour off, I mean one hour, to the exact second. It is excellent for setting the second hand on the LiberalCCW wristwatch, but if you want to know if it is 7:00 or 8:00 PM, you have to look outside and check the position of the sun. Now having a clock that is correct at random times means you have to have a second clock to verify that the first one is showing the correct time. I tend to use the radio update clock to judge how many minutes are left until the next hour, whatever hour that may be. As my wife and I still use the thermometer, I am tempted to stick a piece of tape with a large question mark over the hour display on the clock so it would display ?:53. Right now, the clock is displaying 5:06:44 and the correct time is 6:06:44.

My dad also gave me the LiberalCCW watch, as a gift, after he got a "different" watch. After several weeks of using it, I discovered the reason he got a new watch: The buttons on the side of the LiberalCCW watch are too sensitive. If you breath on it, the watch buttons will depress and switch the watch into one of seemingly hundreds of useless modes. I look at the watch face and it is displaying phone numbers, then 5 minutes later, it is displaying the lap times of my last 9 arm flexes. As I write this the watch displays: "Chrono 74:31:27", and has been counting for the last 74 hours, apparently. I can never get the LiberalCCW watch back into the time display from these modes, so if I am at home, I look at the radio clock and see: ?:32:25 and then I look outside at the sun and figure it must be 7:32:25 on the dot.

My question to you is this: Who is the bigger tightwad? Is it the father who gives cheap or nonworking Christmas gifts, or the son who would rather tell time using a clock, a watch and the sun rather than buy a watch at Wal-Mart for five bucks?

CCW Story Part 7: Bapticostal Threats

Our return to the classroom found Bruce going over the legal background that the State required for concealed carry class. He started with First Degree, premeditated murder.

"Like the Biker", I thought to myself, "planning to kill at the first sign of widespread civil unrest".

Second Degree Murder, provoked, but not planned. Voluntary Homicide, Criminally Negligent Homicide, Reckless Homicide, Aggravated Assault, Bruce covered the basics, aided with videos prepared by the State. Fourth rate actors with guns broke into houses and were shot, or not shot depending on other fourth rate actor’s decisions. Our church friend and my wife were discussing firearms, when my wife made a joking remark. In jest, he grabbed his pistol off of the table. I paused. Let me think this out. We just sat here learning that all guns are always loaded. He picked up his gun, which he knows is unloaded, and I am pretty sure is unloaded, while still in class. True, he was joking. Does this fall under carelessness or ignorance? It just seemed wrong.

LiberalCCW Lifestyle Shop

To the Millions of Loyal LiberalCCW fans:
================================

In the spirit of Kim Schmitz, over at Kimble.org, LiberalCCW,
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Unlike Kim's wussy MegaCar, the LiberalCCW MegaCar comes with a 7.62x25 CZ-52 in the driver's door compartment, and a semi-auto VEPR II 7.62X39 AKM rifle in the trunk.

Evil and Extremely
Politically Incorrect AK Assault Rifle*

By leaving out all of the useless internet crap that Kim puts in his wussy MegaCar, the LiberalCCW mega car has enough room in the trunk for 5 cases of Wolf AK ammo to help you defend yourself and the American Way as you look for a parking space at Wal-Mart. For these reasons, the car must be shipped to an FFL.

Because of Kim's competitive pricing plan, LiberalCCW has been forced to offer you these items for the same prices as Kim's "Lifestyle shop". You, the consumer, come out the winner!
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*Drive to peace rallies in the LiberalCCW MegaCar, whip out your AK rifle and bump
fire into the air!**

** Being sure, of course to observe all local ordinances.***

*** And be sure tostay the hell out ofCalifornia with the LiberalCCW MegaCar.

LiberalCCW's Shoes

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My brown steel toed shoes, US size 9.

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1. The steel inserts will protect your toes
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2. You won't get beat up in a
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LiberalCCW Watch

LiberalCCW's Watch

Timex Ironman Datalink USB



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Unlike Kimble's "Yellow Breitling Emergency", the name of
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LiberalCCW Phone Now Available For Sale!

LiberalCCW's Phone:

Custom Siemens A-56 GSM CellPhone.
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LiberalCCW MegaCar: Now Available for Purchase!

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Note: Chrysler Cirrus, 1995
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Please Note: Due to BATF restrictions, the MegaCar
must be shipped to a FFL. While semi-auto only, the VEPR is a a
very capable defensive weapon, chosen because of it's reliability, and
the ability of the 7.62X25 rounds to penetrate safety glass. The
CZ-52 was chosen for it's ability to penetrate 24 inches of dry pine,
level 2 body armor, or most automotive bodywork. With the CZ-52, you
can shoot would-be car jackers through your car door, no need to step
out for a clear shot!

Cozy Evening Reading Marx and Engels

My wife spent some time this evening comfortably curled up reading the Communist Manifesto, because she "Wanted to see what all of the fuss was about". (Barnes and Noble Classics, $7.95. Run out and get your copy today, before they sell out during the Christmas rush!) During her reading she stopped and said:

"Huh! this is interesting, check this out". Then proceed to read a sentence or two. This one struck us both as being true:

"The executive of the modern State is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie".

I find it interesting that Republicans never use the word "Bourgeoisie", they prefer to use the word "Us". Likewise, you never hear a Republican utter the word "Proletariat" into a podium microphone, they tend to substitute the word "Them".

She also noted that in addition to the wisdom of the above quote, the Communist Manifesto also contains "A bunch of rambling garbage". To which I replied:

"Into every Manifesto, a bunch of rambling garbage must fall".

CCW Story: Part 6 "The Biker Apocalypse"

I began to wonder if this woman was a good candidate to carry a concealed firearm. Her eyes were a bit too wide open, she seemed to try a bit too hard to make conversation. It seemed that under her public face there was danger, an unbalanced personality hidden under the surface, that kept dropping hints.

Bruce dedicated the next session to gun hygiene, use Hoppes solvent to clean your gun, a good gun oil to lubricate it. Avoid Breakfree CLP, Bruce said, as he had experienced gummy black residue in his guns after using it. My wife and I had been using Breakfree CLP on the Kahr K-40 after cleaning with Hoppes and experienced no problems. Use a nylon brush to clean the moving parts, and a brass barrel brush to clean the barrel. Boresnakes are good, but should be replaced every several months. Use air in a can to blow debris out of hard to reach places.

Our next cigarette break found me downstairs in the gun store. I stood looking through the glass case at hundreds of black and silver pistols for sale. All neatly aligned with the barrel facing the customer. Next to me was the Biker.

"So, have you decided what to shoot for the marksmanship part of the test"? I asked him.

"My 1911". He replied. "Even though I brought several pistols, it is the nicest to shoot".

"It sounds like you have quite an arsenal", I said. He rattled off four or five manufacturers and models that I had never heard of. "Do you shoot them that often"? I asked.

"Right now, I shoot them a little, but just wait 'till the end of the world, then I am going to go out and have some fun". He said.

I mulled his words over in my mind as I walked back to the classroom. In the event of a breakdown in society, this man would like to kill people. Is that what he meant? Could he have meant something else? Should he be allowed to carry a concealed weapon? Should I tell the instructor what the Biker had said? Would the instructor care? Would the State care? I certainly cared. I told my wife what the Biker had said, and she agreed that perhaps the Biker was not concealed carry material. We also agreed that there was something a bit unbalanced about the 40ish woman that made the idea of her carrying a gun more than a little frightening.

CCW Story: Part 5 "BB Gun Bandit"

The duration and curriculum of the class were mandated by the great State of Tennessee, with a required 8 hours of instruction, a written test and a shooting test. The written test was to be 50 questions with 85% correct a passing score. The shooting portion involved shooting 48 rounds at a stationary target at various distances. To pass, the shooter had to hit the target 36 times, or 75% of the time. One more ironic moment, picturing state licensed handgun carriers spraying 25% of their rounds into the public at large, of which I and my family are members. That thought kept me awake that evening.

Bruce stressed that there are two causes of gun accidents: Ignorance and Carelessness. Bruce described the three types of ammunition malfunction: Misfire, where the firing pin strikes the cap and the powder fails to ignite. If this happens, remain in the firing position, count to 15 and then eject the round. Hang fire, a misfire that ignites before the 15 seconds is up. Squib load, a round that is for whatever reason, underpowered. The bullet will only travel partway down the barrel. If the shooter pulls the trigger and fires another round, the results can be catastrophic failure of the weapon, and possible injury to the shooter. Bruce continued with the four safety rules, which form an acronym: BANK.

• Be sure of your target and backstop.
• All guns are always loaded.
• Never point your weapon at something you are not willing to destroy.
• Keep you finger off of the trigger until you are ready to fire.

In between cigarette breaks, Bruce taught us how to squeeze the trigger. "Think of it as pushing a button, the moment the gun fires, it should come as a surprise, don't anticipate the moment, you will flinch and throw off you accuracy". "Your trigger finger should touch the trigger only when you are ready to fire". Bruce continued. "To reduce the amount of side-to-side motion when pulling the trigger, you should have a little space between your trigger finger and the side of your Ha-weapon." Bruce showed us how to sight the gun on the target.

During the next cigarette break, the 40ish overweight woman in the class told my wife about a childhood incident in which she had shot a neighborhood boy in the face with a BB gun. The boy had been taunting her, she had gotten in trouble for it. The local sheriff had forbade her from having any access to weapons until she was 18. "That was years ago". She said. "Now I would like to have a gun around as my niece is on meth and I am afraid of the people she hangs around with". She flashed a brief stained snagglepuss of a smile, then laughed the hacking laugh of one of Phillip Morris's finest. The sort of laugh that starts out sounding like a whoopee cushion full of Jell-O, but trails into a short cough and finally a prolonged throat clearing. For a man, such a laugh usually ends with a spit of phlegm then a reach for the pack of Camel Filterless in the breast pocket. It's easier to get the goods farther in the lungs after you've just hacked out a big blockage. Prime time for a smoke! Hanging out in the break room during blue-collar jobs that I had, I always wondered if the workin’ man smokes to shorten the misery of his existence.

Propaganda redux

The war in Iraq is going so well that we are writing fake stories about our success and then paying the Iraqi papers to print them.

Sounds like another Republican inspired idea to me.

We could also distribute tasteful Republican "W" bumper stickers in Iraq, in order to make any of the few-(it must be true, we wrote it!) remaining ungrateful Iraqi people love us even more. So classy! Note that on that last link, the "Made in The USA" is:

I: Not necessarily something to be proud of. Do you think the Russians make thongs with "Putin" on the backside?

II: Self evident by the tastelessness.

Maybe we can get Rush Limbaugh's program translated into Farsi and broadcast on a 100kW FM tower near Fallujah. Blasting Rush's Message of Love for the Entire Human Race 24/7 could possibly persuade the foreign suicide bombers to beat their semtex into plowshares.

We could have the Iraqi press print the truth in their papers, and even invite Iraki folks on to our news shows and ask them to rate how we are doing. Novel concept.

On the home front, I have decided to make my own holster, as I can probably get a better inside the waistband fit for the Bersa .45 semi auto. Why should a person be uncomfortable while packing heat? Perhaps happiness is a warm, well concealed gun, with no sharp edges poking into your hip, a light trigger, loaded with enough fast expanding hollowpoints to stop several attackers, however, I sincerely doubt it. Perhaps it could be if you buy a good set of night sights, and a Red Blooded American Handgun chambered in a round that will not over penetrate and get the three people standing behind your attacker.

A British youth once sang that happiness is a warm gun, obviously, he was not a gun nut, for from the gun folks I have met, happiness is a smoking, warm gun, preferably in the largest caliber that you can wield with any accuracy. I believe however, that the extra syllables would have mucked with his chorus of his little ditty. Imagine for me, if you will that said British youth was Mexican carrying a 1911 on December 8, 1980, at least he might have at least stood a chance. But then, who knows what he would have went on to become? Another in a long line of famous celebrities who seem slightly strange after they pass their prime? To his credit, the aforementioned British youth had a social conscience, misguided, I believe, yet discernable. Interestingly, even if you are unarmed, a social conscience is something that can get you into serious trouble, but hey, at least the people you leave behind will appreciate you for it.