The Catch 23

A friend of mine has released the trailer for his latest movie, The Catch 23. The link to download the trailer is available here:

http://www.jayasun.com/catch23

Saga of the old(new) digital camera

My dad's cheapness has been well documented. His latest foray into the dark underbelly of frugality was the "Christmas Gift" that I received at Thanksgiving: His old digital camera. By giving it at Thanksgiving he saved on postage and wrapping paper, a card, scotch tape, waiting in line, etc.

The reason I got the old camera is that he got a new one. Well, actually he got the next to new one, a 5 MegaPixel camera, last years model. It was cheaper than the latest one, and only had 1 MegaPixel less resolution. That 1 MegaPixel margin between old and new model is the entire capacity of the camera that he gave me. It is so old that when it was new, a MegaPixel was a big deal. It even says on the front: MegaPixel. I am surprised that it didn't appear in italics with an exclamation point:

MegaPixel!

My dad outlined his scheme to me over the phone, it was like listening to the confession of a hardened criminal mastermind.

"I tried to hold on to the old camera until it was on it's last photo, then give it away. That way I save on a new gift for you, plus I squeeze every last bit of good out of my purchase". "If done correctly, the gift camera will fail the first picture you try and take with it".

I imagine me loading fresh batteries into the thing and hitting the shutter button. Nothing happens, and a few seconds later, a wisp of acrid white smoke rises woefully from CF card slot. Pisser, I hiss to myself under my breath, while in Indiana, my father shoots card after card full of 5 MegaPixel Technicolor wonder, giggling.

Actually, he made several cardinal errors:

1. The camera still works, even after 200 photos. (No dad, you can't have it back!)
2. He forgot and left 4 NiMH batteries in the camera case. He told me that, and I quote:
"The batteries might be showing some age". Meaning, that roadkill squirrel brains are capable of generating more voltage than these batteries. He was wrong, I charged them and they work fine! Fine, I tell you. You can't have them back either. HA!

The problem with the camera is that it is so large compared to modern digital cameras that it is embarrassing to take pictures with it. I get comments. For example:

"How old is that camera? I have never seen one the size of a brick".

"Does that thing come with it's own power plant"?

"Wow, four batteries, from the size of the camera I thought that they would be D Cells"

So to avoid embarrassment, I preempt the comments by telling folks that my dad bought himself a new digital camera, and he gave me his old one. Then I whip out the brick and they laugh.

After taking half a dozen photos, the camera starts to get warm, as it draws 2 Amps out of the batteries. 2 Amps is enough current to damage internal organs .

The reason that I am bitter is that my dad gave my good Olympus OM-1 SLR camera to my cousin for Christmas several years ago. He claims that he forgot that it was mine, by I am not buying that, no sir. I think he needed a gift, and needed it cheap and did not have time to scour the highway for roadkill tools, plus it was too cold to forage for them. He went to the basement and -voila! There is was, the OM-1, and I was in Belgium, why would I care? Or more likely, would I notice? Or if I did, it would be long enough before I noticed the OM-1 was missing that I would think I had lost it myself.

Out of remorse (or on the off chance that I might not take him up on the offer, and he would be off free) he bought me a digital camera the next Christmas, an HP, arguably the worst digital camera ever made. The battery compartment door broke in the first two months I had it. I held the batteries in it with a paperclip and duct tape, and used it that way for half a decade. Why? Because, I am cheaper than he is, if such a thing is possible. I threw that camera away a year ago, tired of the batteries falling out and the duct tape sticking to my hands when taking pictures. If you put the thing in your pocket, it came back out with all of your pocket lint, change and gum wrappers stuck to it. It looked like a ball of pocket trash with a very bright flash. I have not missed it a bit, but I still miss that OM-1...

CCW Story Part 35: Todd shows his stuff at IPSC.

Lisa had 3 sets of cardboard targets, carefully measuring the distances between them and small rubber mats on the floor. She introduced herself, and explained the setup. “The white silhouettes are no shoot targets, you get points deducted for hitting them. The black squares of rubber are on the floor are so that you can drop you empty magazines without damaging them.” I examined the setup Lisa had created, with three white silhouettes, each with several brown silhouettes poking out from behind it, like cowardly burglars hiding behind a hostage. Each target had A, B, C, and D zones that delineated different scoring areas on the target. Outside, each competitor set his gun bag down with muzzle pointed away from the building, and one by one slipped their pistols into side holsters according to IPSC protocol. With holstered weapons, the competitors returned inside for the first round of the competition.

Todd and I discussed the tactics he would employ.

“I am here to hone my concealed carry skills, not to win the competition”. Todd said.

I respected Todd for his desire to improve his shooting skills. Arguably he was the best marksman of the folks I had met at the range, and had always followed every safety rule. I had never seen him, or any of the other range employees break any of the four firearms safety rules, ever. If a person is going to carry a pistol in public, Todd would make a good example of how to treat the rules with respect.

Decked out in safety glasses and ear protection Todd stepped to the line with his standard carry weapon, a Kimber 1911, in the holster he carried it in every day. The only change in his normal rig was that he had several magazine holders attached to his belt. As Todd, the first shooter of the match inserted a magazine loaded with .45 caliber match ammo into his Kimber 1911, a range safety officer declared the range “hot”. By IPSC rules, spectators were allowed to stand behind the shooter but could not move around while the range was hot.

Todd stood ready, a range officer behind him with an electric timer. At the beep of the timer, Todd jumped to his feet and began firing in quick controlled bursts at the targets. Holes appeared in the brown silloutes in quick succession, in tight pairs. Todd dropped the empty magazine from his weapon, and quickly popped a loaded magazine in its place. After firing, he showed the range officer that his weapon was clear, safetied the 1911 and the range was no longer hot.

Dog Digestive Problems!

Our dog has decided to stress test his digestive system. He ate 3 hard boiled eggs, shell and all. That was Saturday. All was quiet until this morning. He wimpered and whined like a 1950's experimental jet engine until he got out the door.

Once outside, he ran at full speed (24 Miles per hour) for his poo spot while I walked normal speed (5 miles per hour). Luckily the leash held as he kicked up dirt like a super stock modified tractor making a full pull.

At his spot, he assumed the position and held it with a very concerned look on his face. Normally he stares into the distance, and appears as if he is weighing the purchase of 1000 shares of Disney Vs. Microsoft stock.

Today however, the expression was that of someone strapped into the capsule atop a new Russian rocket design, while the countdown had just gone on a long hold.

After what must have seemed to him like a 2 hour countdown hold, but was only about 3 minutes, it was time to light the engines. Eggshells dissolve quite a bit when passing through a dog, although not enough for the dog not to notice them. He shook for a while, and vibrated and rattled at the point of Max-Q, or the moment that his payload reached the infamous "speed of poop".

Blastoff only lasted about 4 or five minutes, but was repeated on the way back to the house. It was a classic "round-two", an encore performance. This time his face looked like he was re-entering the atmosphere and was trying to remember if he had deployed his heat shield. It had obviously been damaged during his blastoff, and now he was feeling the burn.

I bet he will peel the hardboiled eggs next time.

CCW Story Part 34: Downrange at IPSC.

The time came for us to proceed to the range. Where we normally stood in lane 2 of the firing line, there was now an opening for us to walk directly out onto the range.

It was an eerie feeling to stand and look back at the stalls where we had stood days before, sending round after lethal round through the very space I now occupied. I looked up at the angled ceiling baffles, which were peppered with holes; some of rounds, which struck near the edge, had passed clean through the supporting plywood. The backside of the baffles was made of steel, and was intact. The cinderblock wall was marked by stray rounds, farther downrange at the backstop, the remains of all of those thousands of rounds lay, looking like a jumbled heap of smashed grapes sculpted in lead.

Cycling's dirty secrets

Say it aint so, Jesper.

CCW Story Part 33: At IPSC

That Saturday, my wife and I arrived at the range, unarmed for the first time, as we were watching the IPSC competition. Inside the store, several clean cut people in their mid 40’s milled around, carrying black nylon gun bags. Several of them appeared to be sunburned, it appeared that they spent a lot of time outside.

We were approached by Wanda, who introduced herself as the local IPSC rep. She went into detail about the IPSC format, and the safety rules. Several times she stressed that safety was the most important thing in IPSC competition.

“We have a 180 degree rule, which we strictly enforce”. Said Wanda. “If the muzzle of your weapon breaks an invisible line of 180 degrees, meaning if you point it even the slightest bit past what we call downrange, we ask you to go home immediately”.

This made me feel better, as I was worried that the muzzle discipline would be on par with the concealed carry permit class. Out on the range, several men with push brooms swept up loose brass in a cloud of dust as a woman assembled cardboard targets on a wooden frame.

Nederland: Vrije Land?

Het Nederlandse regering heeft deze week de beslissing gemaakt om de boerka te verbieden in de semi-openbare ruimte. Dit betekend bijvoorbeeld, op straat, trein, en in de bus. Ik vraag mij af hoe het niet illegal is in Nederland in het bloot rond te lopen, maar well hoe het illegal is helemaal gekleed te zijn?

Ja, ik weet het, het verdraagen van en boerka brengt schaade an de samenleving toe. Moslims zijn gevaarlijk, zeker de boerka verdraagers. Heroine verbruikers: steunen, mar boerka verdragers, die zijn viand nummer een.

Verdorie, er zijn zoveel van "deze mensen". Wij moet 'er van kwijt, en zo snel als mogelijk. Wacht! Ik heb een gooie idea! Ze zaal tot een man vertrekken als ze Westerse kledij moet verdraagen. Ik been 'er zeker van! (Ik heb het gezien op Flying Doctors, de keer dat Moslims het vliegtuig bezet hebben. De Doctor heeft ze allemal buiten gesmeten met een te-korte rokje.)

My excuses to the Dutch native speakers, it has been a decade since I used the language, and then it was Flemish from Markedaal. I know I sound like a Flemish farmer who dropped out of school in the 5th grade, who do you think I learned the language from, onnozele kieken!

CCW Story Part 32: IPSC!

On one of our previous trips to the range, I saw a flier on the wall advertising a practical shooting match, hosted by the International Practical Shooting Association.

"What is practical shooting"? I asked Todd.

"It's the coolest"! Said Todd, as he lounged behind the glass display case. "They set up a series of targets and you are timed as you shoot at them. It is one of the only times it is OK to run on the range with a loaded gun in your hand".

The image of my concealed carry classmates, armed AND running began to make my armpits damp.

"How are they on safety"? I asked.

"Oh, they are extremely safety conscious". Replied Todd very earnestly. Todd and the rest of the staff at the gunstore were the most firearms safety conscious folks that I had seen. They had better discipline around firearms than all of the police officers that I know, several of whom I am related to. With the staff's safety record in mind and trusting Todd, as he had been honest with me, and patient in answering all of my naive questions, I noted that the next IPSC match was at 6:30 PM on the third Saturday of the month.

Political Changes Ahead, Conservatives, Beware!

The Democrats set to take over the US house and Senate have announced the following changes in an effort to destroy everything dear and holy to, well just about everyone, including their constituents:

1: The National Anthem will remain the same, however it will no longer be performed live. An official taped version will be played at all events. This version will be performed by Bobcat Goldwait on a kazoo.

2: The funds allocated by President Bush for a wall between Mexico and the United States will be used instead to re-landscape the border to make it more attractive to immigrants, as well as to provide free refreshments to our friends traveling to find work.

2a: The redeployed troops fresh from Iraq will hand out the refreshments mentioned in 2.

2b: The Federally mandated minimum wage will be increased in order to attract more immigrants to the newly re-landscaped border mentioned in 2.

3: John Murtha will be named Senate Majority Leader.

4: In an effort to reach out to disenfranchised Islamic militants, and show that we mean well as a nation, the stars in the US flag will be changed to crescents.

5: A retroactive ban on all firearms will be in place by 2007. Knives, clubs, and rocks will be outlawed. It will be illegal to even make a fist in public. Open handed slapping will become the primary means of self defense.

6: Rush Limbaugh will be stuffed and placed on display in the Smithsonian, Fahrenheit 911 will loop on a Jumbotron above the corpse. All citizens will be required to visit the display at least once in their lifetime.

7: A Congressional decree will mandate that capital letter K will replace the letter C in political words like Kalifornia, Kongress, DemoKrat, Komrade, KoolAid, etc.

8: The US military will be forced to adopt the Romanian WASR AK series of Karbines (Spelling, see 7).

9: All energy will be imported, even watch batteries. The word Green will be capitalized per Kongressional decree. Lawn mowing will be outlawed, along with tree-topping, drilling anything but cavities, and anyone caught in the act of smoking will be sent to prison for life. Folks who accidentally set their hair on fire will be granted an exception, and only have to serve 10 years.

10: All criminals currently in correctional custody will be granted amnesty. All convicted criminals in the future will receive counseling and a do-it-yourself meditative garden seed pack and aroma-therapy Kit, except for smokers, see item 9.

11: The Weasel will replace the Bald Eagle as the National Symbol, no problem in reprinting currency, as the US will be adopting the Euro in 2007.

CCW Story Part 31: Nervous about my first firearm.

At home, the first thing I did was put the ammunition into our gun bag, zip the bag and shut it in a closet. Next, I disassembled the pistol to clean it, as Bruce had instructed us to do. The Bersa has a small lever on the left side, just above the trigger that releases the slide. Removing the slide and flipping it upside down reveals the recoil spring, spring guide pin and the bottom of the barrel. I removed the recoil spring and slide then pulled the barrel out of the slider and examined it, it appeared to be made of stainless steel. After I had removed it, I looked down the barrel, now just a nondescripts tube of stainless steel, and shivered, at the thought of having it pointed at me. .45 caliber, under half an inch in diameter, it felt like I was looking down a rifled train tunnel.

I cleaned the barrel with a brass brush, then ran a cotton wad through it, then oiled it with Breakfree CLP. I cleaned the rest of the components, brushing them with nostril burning solvent, then lightly lubing the moving parts with CLP. The outside of the Bersa was a smooth matte black, while the moving parts were another story. As Bruce had said there would be, there were scratches and machining imperfections on the underside of the slide. The frame appeared to be made of black anodized aluminum. I was satisfied with my purchase. Inexpensive, easily concealable, large caliber, semi-auto. All the things I was looking for in my first defensive handgun purchase.

I reassembled the pistol and dry fired it, for all of it's machining roughness, it had a smoother trigger pull than my wife's Kahr. The moment the trigger dropped the hammer to fire the weapon – called the "trigger break" felt much more consistent than other pistols I had fired, even the Glock. A reasonable amount of force was needed to drop the hammer in double action mode, where the trigger pull moves the hammer to the rear, before dropping it to move the firing pin. In single action mode, the pull was very light. I put the gun up for the night, unloaded at my wife's behest. She felt uncomfortable with me fiddling with it in the house, as I didn’t have a lot of experience with firearms. I complied, as at this stage of firearms ownership, the idea of a loaded .45 in the house made me nervous.

Not much to piss and moan about anymore.

Well, it has been a quiet week. With the Democrats now set to take over the Senate and the House, Rumsfeld seeking other employment, a female speaker of the house, a liberal has less reason to fret.

Now the Taliban will lay down their weapons, North Korea will chain the gates of it's nuclear program shut, and Iran will hold sweeping political reforms.

I wish.

Actually, as he is facing uneployment, I think that Rumsfeld should look into politics in Iran. He has that instinct to leap for the jugular that works well with an incensed public. I bet that if he learned to speak Farsi, he would have a shot at being elected President of Iran. As president of Iran, Rumsfeld could make a good argument for the nuclear program, fend off the UN, Israel, and get to strut around in a bad suit. He could market himelf as a liberal reformer, a friend of the world, a voice of reason in a time of insanity. A Persian diet would do good for his complexion, not to mention his figure. He would look like a 45 year old Robert Culp inside of two years. He would get to yell at press conferences. Yell, hell. He would get to shout and scream. You know that we wanted to scream at press conferences at the White House. You could see it in that vein in his temple. He was dying for public scream therapy.

Announcer:

"Live now, we take you to the White House where Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld is giving the latest on the on-going offensive in Falluja":

Rumsfeld: "Thank you ladies and gentleman of the press, today I would like to announce Whaaaaaaaaaaa, Whaaaaaaaaaa, Eeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeee! Ahhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhh........ ahem. Much better. We have taken over the insurgent stronghold, and our troops suffered no casualties."

By replacing the english words in the above paragraph with the phrase: "Death to Israel" and leaving the screaming, you have a speech by Mahmoud Ahmadinejad the president of Iran.

Meanwhile, back in the USA, birds chirp, the white hot arrogance of presidential "blitzkrieg" rhetoric cools, not because ideals of changed, but because it has ceased to play well with the public. It was all a show folks, and you saw the strings. Fox news will probably swing left now, in order to secure their ratings, and keep the advertising revenue flowing. The flag is still the flag, these colors don't run, never will no matter who is in Washington. Don't get me wrong, we are still wrapped in the flag, as good Americans should be, we just don't have it stuffed deep into our ears any more. Thank you citizens of the USA for listening to the truth, and voting.

The Decider Decides for Bob Gates

You read it here first:

The Decider has accepted the resignation of my dad's former boss. Bob Gates, former head of the CIA will be taking over as the Secretary of Defense.

I find it interesting that the Decider will "stay the course" until it hurts politically.

Tennessee voters saved my marriage!

The same sex marriage ban passed in TN. It was heavily publicized locally by signs that read: “Protect Marriage”.

Both my wife and I are feeling much more secure in our marriage this morning after the the same sex marriage referendum passed. Thank you voters of Tennessee!

Three possible outcomes of a politically split legislative/executive power base

Scenario 1: (least likely to happen)

The Executive Branch, the Legislative Branch, and the all of the American People work together to win the war on terror. Some evil terrorists who need killing are killed, the USA stops fighting a war for territory, and begins to wage a battle for hearts and minds, and succeeds.

Scenario 2: (most likely to happen)

The Executive Branch and the Legislative branch grandstand, bicker, piss and moan, and throw feces back and forth until the next election, while American troops continue fighting a ground war against a mindset. They have tried valiantly to kill that mindset for more than half a decade with bullets and bombs, but mindset persists. I copy and paste this paragraph verbatim into a blog post sometime in 2010 minus the words "half a".

Scenario 3: (absolute certainty)

The moon turns red as blood, the stars fall from the sky, the meek inherit the earth and there is finally peace in the Middle East.

My Father: The Republican

My father has long voted Democrat, and both my mother and father were liberal until the late 1980's. Now my father has turned Republican, and it is all Lawton Chile's fault.

My mother was turned off of the democratic party by a corrupt Florida sheriff, and Lawton Chiles's stint as Florida Governor in the 90's, of which Wikipedia says: "During his first term as governor, Chiles managed to accomplish very little."

One thing he did accomplish, however was to alienate my mother.

I say alienate, I mean light a bonfire of Conservative Indignation, which means work for the Republican Party. The downside for my father is that he also now works for the Republican Party, helping man voting sites, attending fundraisers, wearing the GOP jackets, putting signs in yards, you name it.

One of my mom's hallmarks is the use of Call Waiting to screen Republican Party Business, which is a euphemism for "Hang up on the Liberal son to see what right-winger is calling". Actually she will hang up, promising to call back, and then forgets for several days: The hallmark of Republicanism.

I joked with my father, who let the call waiting ring to continue talking until the person hung up or left a message, that the urge to hang up on relatives must be a Republican trait. Democrats will speak to the person on the phone out of respect, and let the other caller leave a message.

On Sunday, I called my father to shoot the bull, and he said that he was helping to train Republican poll booth volunteers that evening. I warned him that he might be headed down the twisted path to conservatism, when I heard the telltale clicking on the phone.

"Hold on a minute". He said.

"Uh Oh, you have turned Republican". I said.

"No I have not". He replied, and let the call go to voicemail.

One minute later, the clicking started again.

"Look". He said. "I have to take this, it's probably the folks coming for training, I will call you back".

That was Sunday. I have not heard a peep since then. Today he is manning a polling place for the Republican Party.

Has he turned? You decide.

New Noteworthy Blog: The Arms Room

TamaraK has dedicated blog space to historical firearms. Please visit:

http://cosmolineandrust.blogspot.com/

Or click on the permanant link on the right. Thank you Tam for sharing this resource, and helping to fill vacuum in good historical firearms writing.

CCW Story Part 30: 230 Grains of Justice!

My wife was having a good conversation with the gun store staff as I exited the double door to the range and washed my hands. I went to the counter and said to Todd:

"I need to buy some good self-defensive rounds for my new gun, what do you recommend".

"Well", Todd said, "You should probably go with a good defensive hollow point round".

"What do you use"? I asked, remembering that Todd's everyday carry was a Kimber 1911, in .45 caliber.

"Speer Gold Dot 230 grain". Todd replied. "Speer has a patented bonding system to prevent jacket separations".

Todd was referring to the method that Speed used to keep the lead core of the bullet bonded to the copper jacket. As a hollow point round hits human tissue, the nose of the bullet peels back to form a mushroom shape. The idea is to increase the frontal area of the bullet, and thereby increase trauma in the target. The Geneva Convention outlawed hollow point and dumdum bullets for military use, but they are legal for civilian and law enforcement applications in the US.

The theory is that if your life is on the line, you need the most lethal round in the largest caliber you can shoot, in to increase your chances of survival. You increase your own chances by killing your attacker as quickly as possible.

"How about hydroshocks"? I asked, refereeing to a different well-known brand of defensive hollow point. "Hydroshocks are older, but still good, I prefer the Speer Gold Dots". Said Todd. "230 grains" I said, 230 grains, approximately 15 grams, the weight of each bullet.

"Yes, Todd said, 230 Grains of Justice"! I plunked down $17 including tax and the BATF 10 cent tax for what some would argue was the most lethal round my pistol would chamber. I opened the cardboard box and looked at the 20 shiny bullets, neatly arranged in a plastic holder. At each bullet's tip a large hole was outlined by seven points, where the brass jacket was weakened, allowing the bullet to mushroom and rapidly drop any would be assailants. Amazing, I thought, that as a civilian, I am allowed to carry this gun with bullets I could not use if I was in the army.

For my Saudi reader as promised, LiberalCCW delivers!

I was walking the dog this morning, and while he was taking a crap, I started thinking about the CIA.

I imagined my Saudi reader flying to Iceland for a geothermal power conference, and passing through BAA Heathrow, and deciding to run across the street for fish and chips during the layover. (Probably not possible at Heathrow, but it's my imagination, so lay off already!)

As my reader's name is similar to the name of an infamous cleric in Jeddah, he has flipped a bit in the CIA/DIA/NSA computer and is picked up off of the sidewalk in front of the chips shop and shoved into a van.

Since he is considered an "enemy combatant" he dissapears, and flies out of Heathrow on a LearJet owned by "Pacific Business Consultants" of Portland OR, headed not for Iceland, but for Bulgaria, where he spends the next two years living La Vida Loca, and then is released. He has a very bad time in Bulgaria, and swears to never cross the street in London for Fish and Chips again.

What he needs: Extraordinary Rendition Insurance.

Think about this market, dear capitalist readers: Every middle eastern man that travels on business could be whisked off to a secret prison at any time, who pays the bills while he is away? Is his family notified of his whereabouts? No, that would compromise national security. Does he get red cross packages? I doubt it. Do you suppose he gets compensated for his time? Not by the Bulgarians, although I am sure that they are compensated handsomly. I can say with reasonable certainty that he is not compensated by by the CIA/DIA/NSA folks who sit in on the "questioning". They don't care that he missed his geothermal power conference sessions and the birth of his first child. They want to know which cave Osama is hiding in. Unfortunately for my Saudi reader, his PHD in geology won't help him on this one.

I can see the add now: Cigna ERI, because in these trying times, you never know if you will get to where you are going.

Visitor from Saudi Arabia

To my recent web vistor from Saudi Arabia, running Windows XP (British English Version), I hope thay my post on Iran was a good read. I plan a post on Saudi Arabia shortly, so please be patient.

I would invite you to comment on the Saudi view of the USA's I mean coalition's war on terror.

CCW Story Part 29: First time at the range as a firearm owner.

The gun fired much like I remembered from the 14 rounds I had fired the month before. I was shooting it more precisely than the Kahr, but tended to fire an inch high and left when firing at seven yards. I shot round after round until my right hand got tired, so I shot left handed. My wife got bored shooting her Kahr and went back to the store.

I stayed on the range and fired until the Bersa's barrel got hot. As the Bersa belched flames downrange, I felt a strong sense of self-reliance, as if I was prepared for the unexpected. I could now defend my home with lethal force, should the need arise. My odds of doing so were infinitesimally small compared with the danger posed by having guns in the house, but those odds still exist. I ran out of ammunition, so I removed the Bersa's magazine, locked the slide back and boxed it up. I carried it boxed from the firing line and zipped it into a gun bag. No walking around the line with the gun loaded and my finger on the trigger for me.

Would I ever get lax, and stop following the safety rules? Would I start to assume the gun was unloaded simply because I had remembered unloading it? Would the handgun prematurely end my life, or prolong it? It amazed me that such a small piece of metal could have so many consequences.

The way things ought to be...

First, I suggest that the Democratic party require sobriety tests of all Democratic Party Public Figures before they speak to people. Give John Kerry two tests, in case the first result is inaccurate. We know you are all drunk and/or stoned from the late night party the night before, please take some time to come down before you go on TV. I saw James Carville on TV this morning, he looked like a Gargoyle on PCP and Speed.

This, ladies and gentlemen of the moderate left, is your face to the nation: (Carville in a deep fried southern accent, with enough facial tics to register on the Richter scale):"John Kerry misspoke when he said "Stuck in Iraq", -Wooo -Wooo, here come the flying monkies. Wooo, that's a big purple sucker right there! He meant to say "get us stuck in Iraq", cause we all know that Bush is an idiot. -Wooo Ugg, dust mites in my britches!"

What is truly terrifying is that Republicans sound just as looney as the Democrats, and they are stone cold sober.

A case in point, I just had a right wing co-worker blame Iraq's brewing sectarian violence on Bill Clinton.

The two salvations of the Democratic Party: Drug screening before appearances, and an Democratic Agenda that makes no mention of the Republican Agenda.

To my concerned readers, a clarification:

I have had several readers from Iran point out that no Americans have been beheaded there since, well the beginning of recorded history. All of the most recent beheadings of Americans have occured in Iraq, or America, with probably a few American accidental beheadings occuring annually in international waters.

It seems that Iran is trying to get off of the "Axis of Evil" status, and into the "Vacation Hotspot" status. I picture the first meeting between Mahmoud Amhadinejad and George W. Bush:

Amhadinejad: "We are not part of the Axis of Evil".

Bush: "Yes you are"!

Amhadinejad: "You are the Axis of Evil"!

Bush: "No, you are the Axis of Evil"!

Amhadinejad "No, YOU are the Axis of Evil"!

And so on for about an hour.

I wish that citizens of both countries would admit that they had nincompoops for leaders and put people in charge who understand that endlessly repeating either "Death to Israel" or "We will stay the course" don't count as foreign policy.

What sort of death is Amhadinejad speaking of? Crib death, death metal, sudden death, death squads, brain death, death and ressurection?

What course is GW supposed to be staying? If Bush is referring to intercourse, then he has a long way to go before he even comes close to Bill Clinton's appetite. I will go on the record and recommend to Bush that he not even attempt to break Bill Clinton's record. Bush does not have that type of stamina. Although I will give credit where credit is due, Bush is doing it to both Iraq and Afghanistan at the same time, while lustily eyeing Syria and North Korea. Monica Lewinsky, eat your heart out.

Travel to Iran, the vacation paradise!

This story on CNN got me thinking:

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/meast/11/01/iran.tourism.ap/index.html

Not that I was not thinking before.

A hot new market: Hostage insurance.

What sort of premium would you be willing to pay should you be travelling to a middle eastern country for vacation? The payout would be to cover your bills until you were released or beheaded, so that when and if you got home your stuff woulden't be on the street. If you did end up getting beheaded, at least your family could keep your knick-knacks.

CCW Story Part 28: Cleared by the State

Next Todd went to the phone and dialed, my signed yellow sheet in his hand. I could hear him feed my name, driver's license and social security numbers to the person on the other end of the line. About a minute went by and Todd hung up.

"No priors on you, or any that the State knows about". Todd said.

The .45 auto was mine, but for one last thing, Todd showed me the safety features, and I signed the white sheet while my debit card ran. I signed my receipt and I became a firearm owner, one of the estimated 150 million in this country. My pistol (re)joined America's arsenal of 200 million firearms, the estimated current domestic stock of firearms. My chances of dying of handgun homicide jumped 2.5%. My chances of dying of suicide increased as well. I also brought on the additional risk of dying or being wounded by a Negligent Discharge (ND) from my new pistol.

I bought 50 rounds of 230 grain .45 ACP reloads, some targets and donned my eye and ear protection to enjoy some quality range time with the source of the blip in my personal statistics.

Traslated Islamic TV

My wife and I just recently discovered a webpage that offers Islamic TV excerpts with English subtitles. The address is:

http://www.memritv.org

Facinating stuff. The clips make Fox News look truly "fair and balanced".

Danny Harold Rolling Executed

I see that Danny Harold Rolling was executed today at Starke. I was in Gainsville the weekend that Rolling went on his killing spree in 1990. We were staying in a hotel about a mile from some of the victims houses. My father and I were at the tour of Gainsville, after we got home to Bradenton, we saw that the bodies had been discovered. I remember the next year at the tour of Gainsville, I stayed with a friend in the neighborhood the murders occured in. One year to the day. I was nervous.

I remember riding my bike back to my friends home from the road race and passing a concrete wall with the names of the Gainsville victims painted on it. I was also in Milwaukee racing Superweek while Jeffery Dhamer was about his murder spree. I stayed about 2 miles from his house. Got home to Bradenton and read the headlines, and felt that chill up my spine.

1990 - 2006 Sixteen years that Rolling lived after the murders, the bulk of it on death row. Sixteen years that the victims familes have suffered every day.

Interestingly, I was also in Belgium during the Marc Dutroux crimes, and trained in Tournai a lot on one of the roads where he picked up a victim.

What is it about bike races and serial killers?

Strange.

A Hole in Bush's Doctrine

The largest hole in George W. Bush's foreign policy is that it is based on misconception. A regime change in a Muslim country will not eliminate, decrease or even make a dent in the behavior of it's Islamic fundamentalist citizens. As recent events have born out, the invasion of a soverign nation, the removal of it's government, and the creation of a democracy does not bring stability in the short term, and things will get even worse in the long term.

Don't assume that I am talking about Afganistan, or Iraq. I am talking about Iran. In 1953, Iran was headed a democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddeq who was deposed in a CIA organized coup. President Eisenhower was unhappy with the delays in Mosaddeq's signing, of all things, an oil agreement. In order to ensure the free flow of inexpensive Iranian oil, the US placed the Shah of Iran in power. In 1979, the Shah was deposed and the hard line Islamic goverment took over, and runs the land even as I write this.

The regime change worked in Iran for a wobbly 26 years, then collapsed in the rise of a popular Islamic leader Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini . To counter the Islamic fundamentalist government in Iran, the Reagan administration courted Saddam Hussein. Flash forward to the present day, and we are mopping up after our removal of Saddam, and Khomeini's successors in Iran are still giving us fits.

What would the middle east look like today if we had let the democratically elected government of Iran continue on it's way in 1953?

More Good Products - Yellow Dog Linux

I had been using my home computer at work for several months. It is a Frankenstein machine cobbled together out of an HP Pavillion with a mysterious IDE hiccup, a monitor from a co-worker who was moving and needed extra space, and an 80 gigabyte Maxtor drive that we bought as a backup a while back.

I installed Suse Linux 10 on it, and fiddled with the drivers to get my USB flash drive to function, with limited success. Sometimes I could get it to mount, other times, it would sit there, a 256 MB bump sticking out of the computer. I broke down and installed, patched and secured Windows XP in one afternoon and found that everything worked, including the printer.

After several months of happy work computing, I felt that I was too at ease with my computing situation and decided to switch back to Linux, but did not want to muck up the Frankenbox. I needed something challenging, that would not be an easy install and had a minimum chance of working with any periphrials whatsoever. You can't learn anything from a computer that works flawlessly.

In the office we had an Apple Flat Panel iMac with a 1 Ghz CPU that everyone else refused to use. It was slower than Bob Dole's grandmother, and I got tired of waiting for web pages to load. It also had no office suite, and I did not know the admin password. Instead of resetting the password and buying MS office, I decided to install Linux on it and use it as my main machine.

"Why would you do this"? You ask. "The machine has no floppy drive". You Say. Your are right. It also has no serial or parallel ports, and no expansion capabilities.

I downloaded Yellow Dog Linux onto it and burned the 4 ISO CDs. I installed Linux on a Wallstreet Powerbook once, and had limited success, so I had my doubts.

The install was easy, and I was up and running in under 40 minutes. Yellow Dog is built on Red Hat, andpost install patching was a snap. I set the firewall to refuse everything. I turned off all of the services I don't need.

I have been running it for several weeks now and found the machine to be much faster than when running OSX. On the flip side, I have yet to get the HP USB connected printer to work. Airport works fine, the only issue is that it connects to a private network of someone living in a house across the street. The machine cannot even see our corporate wireless network. I resorted to using the ethernet port and disabling the wireless adapter.


OpenOffice has sufficed for all of my Word, Excel and Powerpoint work. The Gimp has more than sufficed for all photo editing tasks. I have been using firefox as my primary browser, but occasionally use Konquerer when visiting Java enabled sites that give Firefox fits.

I had to chuckle when the PowerPoint exploit was announced. I open MS Office docs with impunity. As George W. Bush so eloquently stated several years back: "Bring it on!".

Good Book

I have been reading Blowback: The Costs and Consequences of American Empire By Chalmers Johnson lately and find it interesting. Being the big kid on the block is not always peaches and cream.

Conservatives need Viagra

After Bob Dole's public promotion of Viagra, and with Rush Limbaugh's recent run in with customs over his supply of Little Blue Pills, it appears that US political conservatism strongly correlates with impotence in white American males.

In comparison, remember Bill Clinton? Yes, the picture in your mind is very clear. Years before Viagra hit the market, Clinton was always ready. In fact he was too ready. That smirk he had on his face all the time: Afterglow.

Admit it, as a ED suffering white Republican, you are jealous of Bill Clinton's sexual prowess. Just admit it already and move on.

To the Democrats reading this, of all races creeds, colors and sexual preferences, you also have the smirk. Hell, I have it. Try not to flaunt it, for the sake of the Country.

The sudden migration of white males to the Democratic party as a cure for their sexual disfunction would spell the end of Pfizer's ED cure empire. Thus the company would not hire a spokesman who's cause would kill their market. You will never see Slick Willie in a Viagra add, or Al Gore for that matter.

Watch out of George Bush Sr. , or even perhaps digitally altered archival footage of Ronald Reagan promoting Viagra on TV in the near future.

If you are Republican, White, Male and and ED sufferer, try relaxing and becoming more liberal. Vote Democrat. Your wife will love you for it.

Mouse Death

I am sad to report that our last mouse, Omega mouse, pictured in the LiberalCCW photo-spot at the top right of this page passed away after a short ilness. The illness was so short in fact that it appears that Omega mouse was sick for under a second, and fell off of the wheel dead. Such is mouse life and death. She will be missed about as much as a pet that cost $1.76 including tax can be missed.

CCW Story Part 27: My First Firearm.

Now, I was buying a piece of hardware to protect myself from something that I was not afraid of. The threshold stood before me, it was not too late to turn back. My wife and I walked into the store and Todd gave us his usual friendly greeting.

"I am here to pick up the Bersa". I told Todd.

He placed several sheets of paper before me, one a small white sheet with a legal waiver. It stated that I had been educated by the seller as to the safety features of the handgun and that I would not hold the seller responsible for injuries sustained to myself or others by the weapon. The second sheet, yellow in color, looked like a background check questionnaire. I started at the top, and filled in all of my personal info. A series of check boxes asked if I had ever been institutionalized, if I was a U.S. Citizen, if I had ever been convicted of a felony.

"Has anyone ever checked the "I have been convicted of a felony check box"? I asked Todd. "Yes, people have, they are disqualified immediately. One guy looked up from the paper at me and said, well, I have not been convicted yet, does that count? And besides, the bitch had it coming to her. Needless to say, we did not give him the gun. Another time a guy checked the box and said, yeah, I got convicted, does that automatically knock me out of it? When we said yes, he replied, well all I did was kick a cop once. We denied him too".

This made me feel better about the gun store. I also noticed that a restraining order was enough to nix the gun sale, also a warm fuzzy builder for me.

CCW Story: Part 26: My Fears.

Finally the day arrived and I went and picked up the Bersa. I hade never owned a gun, I had always gone about unarmed. Since high school I have run in the early mornings, before dawn, and never had a problem with people. I have never been bitten by a stray dog, although a Collie fell on me once with his mouth open.

Over the course of 15 years, I have ridden road bicycles untold thousands of miles through the rough parts of many major US cities, and never been messed with by criminals. Cops, yes, criminals, no. I have ridden mountain bikes for thousands of miles in the woods rumored to be frequented by perverts, and never been messed with by a pervert. Angry granola crunching hikers and redneck park rangers, yes. Perverts, no. Firearms literature warns that if we are unarmed, we are at risk from criminals and perverts. I was about to arm myself against threats that I had read about, but never seen. The only people I know who had died of gunshot wounds, had intentionally inflicted those wounds upon themselves. My only fears of being shot was of goofballs plinking in the woods, with me as their Lycra-clad backstop 400 yards away, or as the victim of a stray bullet in a urban shootout.

Thus, a firearms purchase was a major change in my life philosophy, a sacrifice for the sake of my seeking the truth about American gun culture. I have been able to legally purchase a firearm for 15 years, but the idea to walk into a store and buy a gun had never once occurred to me.

To be honest, I felt that if my time came, it would come, and I would be powerless to change my fate, no matter how well armed I was. I was never worried about armed assault, death at the hands of a criminal. When I was racing bicycles, my fear was drunk drivers, or somebody looking for CD’s on the floor of their car as the hurtled down the road at 60 MPH, their car drifting towards me across the road. I had lost friends this way.

I feared the aluminum fork crown of my road bike separating from the steel steering tube during a decent. I feared my heart stopping during a race, as I held it at above 180 beats per minute for hours at a time. I feared field sprints, and motor pacing through the team cars at 40+ MPH to catch back up to the peleton after a flat. I feared criteriums in the rain, to the point that I stopped racing criteriums in Belgium.

CCW Story: Part 25: The lefty liberal learns of lead spitting llamas

I had to wait until payday to get the Bersa. I found myself thinking about it a lot. Strange that I would be this excited about getting a gun. I surfed the internet and found a Bersa chat page, bersatalk.com where people discussed technical issues. I downloaded the owner's manual and read it from cover to cover, paying close attention to the lengthy safety sections.

While surfing for Bersa, I found that the same importer also carries the Llama line of handguns. Now there is a product name to inspire fear. I can hear the police debriefing now:

"The suspect pulled a gun and tried to shoot me, so I drew my Llama and double tapped him, he kept coming so I took him with a head shot". Yeah, that Llama .45 sure packs a punch".

I see in my mind an imaginary Llama handgun logo, an angry Llama spitting bullets. I wonder if the Llama line has taken off in the US? It seems like a silly name for a weapon to me, but if you think about it, is it any sillier than Colt? To the Argentinean makers of the Llama, I am sure it is just as cool a cultural reference.

CCW Story: Part 24: .50 Caliber Elephant Schlong

I decided to wait, having learned early on in my shooting career that such a situation usually turned into a good chuckle. Dude reached into his gun bag and started pulling out his precious. It was like a scene where one of the stooges pulls a lamppost out of a handbag, the gag staged on a floor with a hole cut in it. The barrel just kept coming out of the bag, like a chromed elephant schlong. I wondered if there was a hole in the floor and a prop man underneath feeding this humongous lethal chromed thing through to Dude.

Dude hefted his precious up in the air, a grotesque statement to his power as a consumer, and clicked the magazine into place. I took a few steps backwards as Dude lined up on the target at 15 yards. His first shot was well off of the ten ring, the rest of his shots were also weak. The .50 caliber magnum was only a bit louder than my wife's Kahr .40 a major disappointment, the sort you feel when you plunk down a dollar to see the bearded lady at the carnival, and when you go in, it's a old chipped mannequin head wearing a scraggly Santa Beard.

After all of the buildup, I expected an orgasmic fury of fire, spitting lead, the target ruined by Dude's Israeli built manhood. Instead I felt like I was watching Bob Dole trying to hit on the Vegas showgirls only to find that he forgot his little blue pills.

"Well that was interesting". My wife said, as I imagined dude, who wouldn't even have to shoot an assailant, as just looking down the barrel of his 'Eagle would be enough, that is if he could get the full length of it out of his bag in time.

CCW Story: Part 23: The Desert Eagle

The Desert Eagle, by the way is a very large and imposing pistol. Produced my Magnum Research in Israel, the models that I have seen were .44 magnum and .50 magnum chambered monsters. Todd at the gun shop keeps them in stock because they sell, although he laughs at the types that buy one. The sheer size and bulk prevent any reasonable chance using a Desert Eagle for concealed carry, and unless your vehicle is stretched sideways you aren't getting one into your glove box. Todd's favorite targets for jokes are the purchasers of nickel plated models, or the fabled Gold Plated Desert Eagle. I think I saw one of the gold plated ones in a rap video once, or perhaps it was a Steven Segal flick.

Clarification of the events leading up to the NSA/Linguistek post and comments about a "front company".

I would like to step forward and clarify that I, LiberalCCW never said that the Washington firm "Linguistek" is a front company for the NSA. It was my father who posted the comment stating that Linguistek was a front company for the NSA. I merely stated that I found the facts "interesting".

If the NSA were to have a front company, one would think that the boys in black would not be boneheaded enough to use the front company's network to host an NSA web server. One would also hope that even if the company was not a front, if the NSA used them as consultants, they would be more discreet than that.

Actually my father made a good point during a phone call. (Hint to NSA, go through the logs, it was Jan 30th at around 9:15 PM EST, I also tell several good jokes, so be sure to listen to the whole thing). His point was that even having a public web page at all is about the stupidest thing that the NSA could do.

Being a red-blooded American Citizen, I have little to fear repercussion-wise for exposing a potential NSA front. I did have some good Muslim friends in college, the devout praying sort who really don't like Israel. Actually one of them was Afghani, he wore a robe and sandals and carried a prayer mat with him. The other was Palestinian. I visited his house once, but left before the Muslim extremist meeting got into full swing. Honest!

If you listen to my other phone calls you will find that I tend to make lots of jokes about flatulence, the explosive kind. These are not coded messages, I tend to be gassy. I do talk about firearms frequently, those are not coded messages either. I own guns. I, however am not the Molon Labe sort of gun owner, as I figure if I pull a David Koresh and say "Come and get them!" about my guns, the Feds will come and get them with aid of a squadron of A-10 Thunderbolts, or a Tank, like they did to poor Dave

In Memoriam: Corretta Scott King 1927-2006

Our condolences to the King family, on the loss of their matriarch.

Why does a private company host the US National Security Agency Homepage?

Why is the NSA website hosted by a private firm? A lookup of www.nsa.gov shows that it is hosted by: LINGUALISTEK 9861 Broken Land Parkway Suite 300 Columbia MD US 21046.

Lingualistek states that their mission and philosophy is:

"Linking State-of-the-Art Software Solutions with Languages Worldwide"

Lingualistek's own corporate webpage is hosted by interland. Why is a private company hosting the NSA .gov page on their own netblock? Lingualistek is not a hosting company, and does not host any other pages, not even their own. A google search of the Lingualistek web page for NSA reveals a single reference, in a job description.

Other US gov't sites:

whitehouse.gov - akamai
CIA.gov - CIA netblock
DIA.mil - DOD netblock
Army.mil - Army Netblock

Interesting.

Now Available Online: The Homicidal Dope Fiend Car Thief Kit!

I was browsing for CZ Handguns and found this CZ-82 add at www.keepshooting.com

What struck me was the Hot Sellers of the Month:

A unisex fake urine for cheating on drug tests, and a auto lock picking tool.

The fake urine is advertised with the tagline:

"The Quick Fix is designed to keep your medical history private and will cover nicotine, pregnancy, and ailments such as diabetes. And great for those experience a shy bladder."

Yeah, right. I use fake urine because I have a shy bladder and I can't piss when I know there is some guy in the next room. Not because I have so much THC in my urine that it melts through the cup and the floor and makes my peehole burn like I spent the last two months earning my living at a Transvestite Bar in Amsterdam.

And I want to keep my "Medical History Private". Mmmm hmmm.

The lock picking tool is also good, if you are too stupid to get a spare key made for your car, or for boosting cars that are not your own. "I was just opening it for a friend, officer". It gets even better if you just follow the hot monthly product links, the whole thing degrades into brass knuckles and lipstick knives.


You could also just get off of the dope and get a spare key. If you are too dumb to get a spare key for your car, and tend to hit the bong on a daily basis, perhaps you shouldn’t run around with a CZ-82 and 12 9X18 Mak rounds in your britches.

I failed to mention the other adds at the bottom of the page for a taser and a book on getting your FFL. Put this all together and you have the nightmare neighbor scenario: Banging on the door of a ramshackle house at 3:00 AM. "Cletus, I am trying to sleep, will you please turn off the full spectrum lights, stop shooting at my cat, and keep the Ferrari out of my yard!"

Add a Lhati, and your neighborhood could make the front page of USA Today!

It appears that Keepshooting.com is in the hoodlum kit business. Order one for you kid today, just in case he bombs the SAT! Liberal CCW recommends you get the Grand Theft Auto Combo for starters.

Click Already!

Palestine and Veggidude

The gun blogs have little to say about the Hamas victory in the Palestinian Elections. Veggiedude, on the other hand grasps that this is an important moment in history. Perhaps the Palestinian voters are reacting in shift towards Islamic Extremism in the Islamic Community as a result of America's war on Terror. Perhaps America should rely on better intel when shooting rockets into houses in countries we are not at war with. Or, (Blaspheme!) not bomb, shoot rockets or fire shells at people around the world, as:

1. The United States of America tends to hit the wrong people

2. The United States of America never admits to it's mistakes

"I will never apologize for the United States. I don't care what the facts are." -George Bush Sr.

CCW Story: Part 22: Firearms Aftermarket Add-ons

We began to take home an assortment of firearms catalogs from the display rack at the gun shop. It became apparent from the catalogs and from speaking with the owners of the shop that people who considered themselves firearm connoisseurs looked down on cheap firearms. A quality handgun costs around $800 dollars today, for that you get a shiny (or matte black) new pistol in a plastic carrying case, and perhaps a trigger lock. There are add-ons galore, with many small manufacturers machining little widgets and enhancements for people to put on their guns. The gun magazines are full of small adds for tritium night sights, red dot holographic sights, caliber conversion kits, you name it. The sheer volume of add-ons is staggering. It reminded me of one of those geriatric health care mail order catalogs, filled with balms, ointments, heating pads, knee braces, nose hair clippers and marital aids. If a person were to purchase a load of this stuff and try and use it all at once, they would be so bandaged, smeared, clipped and padded that they would be unable to move.

I imagined a handgun with all of these accoutrements, decked out like Marvin the Martian's laser pistol. Some guy gets accosted in a dark alley, turns and points his gun at the assailant, turns on his gun light, shines his laser, his face lit by the sights' greenish tritium glow. As the assailant advances, the man puts a bead on the perp, checks the distance to the target with his rangefinder, calculates his exact position with his pocket GPS and prepares to squeeze the trigger. His gun is decked with so much crap that from 10 paces, it looks just like a super-soaker, the assailant never even suspects that he is about to take a .50 caliber round from a Desert Eagle.

CCW Story: Part 21: My First Handgun Purchase

The shop had a Bersa .380 to rent, but none for sale. They did, however have a pair of Bersa .45s used for $295 each. I asked Todd, the owner’s right hand man about the guns.

“Yes, the Bersa is a good gun, made in Argentina. They are not a cheap gun, they are an inexpensive gun”. “As the Bersa is used, you can try it”. Todd offered.

I handed over my driver license, which Todd placed in the case in the pistol’s place. Out on the range, I examined the pistol. Matt black, with an alloy reciever, the barrel in stainless steel, the weapon seemed better balanced than the only other handgun I had shot, the Kahr K-40. I opened the ammo box and admired the size of the .45 caliber rounds. “Something that big has to do some serious damage, no matter where it hit you”. I thought. Now I, the Liberal Firearm Newbie, was scared of guns all over again as I anticipated the kick that the .45 would give. “Would it hurt my wrist”? I thought. “Will it fly out of my hands, or will I loose control as others had done and shoot rounds into the attic, tickling the soles of the next crop of concealed carry seekers through the concrete floor”?

I loaded 7 rounds, slid the magazine into the grip, pulled the slide and chambered one of the .45s. I sighted on the target and squeezed the trigger. The gun went off before I expected, I had no time to flinch. The recoil actually seemed tame compared to the .40 caliber. I put the rest of the rounds in the target, then reloaded and shot at 15 yards.

The Bersa had an ambidextrous safety and slide release, which made me feel a bit better about safety than my Wife's Kahr, which like a some other models of semiautomatics, some Glocks for example, that only have no external safety. The Bersa also came with a small round key that could be used to lock the gun. This would be nice when storing the Bersa, to prevent kids or suicidal maintenance men from finding the gun and killing themselves when we were not at home. I washed the lead from my hands, walked back to Todd and put the Bersa on layaway. I was about to become a handgun owner, leaving forever the ranks of the blissfully unarmed.

CCW Story Part 21: My Liberal Bias Begins to Weaken

Why didn’t I shop around and find a Bersa Thunder .380, or order one online you may ask? At this point, I must break in and ashamedly admit that I, the Liberal, former member of a Socialist Metal Workers Union, was developing a customer loyalty to our local gun store. What I had originally seen through my liberal bias as a group of black T-shirted yahoos several months before was quickly becoming a group of friends. The store’s owner shared stories about his personal life. The store’s second in command who I will call Todd, always greeted my wife and I enthusiastically when we entered the shop. The sales manager, whom I will call Raquel, knows almost everything about guns. I say almost, because if she doesn’t know it, she can find it in ten minutes. Their advice on weapons was fair and un-biased. I had expected a gun store run by rednecks, these were not rednecks, and contrary to my fears were safe with firearms 100% of the time. It was nice to see people handling firearms with a healthy respect, in sharp contrast to several of my concealed carry classmates. I began to look forward to visits to the range, as target shooting became more fun, and I began to enjoy hanging out with the people. More on this later…

CCW Story: Part 20... Bersa Thunder .380: Good For Removing Fingers and Murdering Racists

I decided against the CZ-52, and called my cousin for advice. Several years older than I, my cousin, who I will call Brian, spent years as a local police officer before joining a Federal Law Enforcement Agency.

“I am looking to buy a handgun for concealed carry”. I said, “And figured you could point me in the right direction”.

“What are you looking for”? He asked.

I gave him my "cheap and reliable handgun" speech that I had given Kirk.

“Well”. My cousin started, “I think that for a concealed carry gun, about the best you could do would be a Bersa .380. I had one, and it was reliable no matter what ammo I fed it. It was less than $300 dollars new, and had a good nickel finish”.

“What about Glocks”? I asked. It became apparent that he was not a Glock fan, even though his Agency carried them.

“I know that the .380 will pack some punch, as that is what I shot my hand with”. Said my cousin referring to an injury sustained during his days as a local police officer. The round had blown the second metatarsal right out the back of his hand, taking much of the meat and skin of his hand with it. The doctors had resorted to removing his middle finger along with the remains of his second metatarsal and sewn the resulting 3 fingered hand back together. They did an amazingly good job, as the wound, and missing finger are hard to notice unless you really look.

“I miss that gun”. Brian said, “It got stolen several years ago”.

We ended our call, and I sat for a minute thinking about the choices. The CZ-52 was too heavy, and a bit large to carry. The Bersa Thunder .380 was so good that my cousin missed it, even though it had cost him a digit.

“Like Bruce, Brian has a brass pair”. I thought. If I had blown a hole in my hand with a gun, the gun would have to go. I told my wife about the Bersa. The next day, I did a google news search for Bersa and found a single reference. A man had been murdered with a Bersa .380 on his front stoop. The murderer had hidden the Bersa in a shaving bag in the ceiling above his bed. The motive for the crime, according to the papers was a racial slur uttered by the victim to his killer some years before. According to the defense, the words had prompted the accused to drive to the house of the racist and kill him. Armed with Bruce’s teaching, it seemed like a cut and dried case of first degree murder. Ballistic results were pending on the weapon. Well, the .380 was lethal, small and came highly recommend by an expert. The problem was that our favorite local gun store didn’t have one for sale.

LiberalCCW Celebrates Dr. King's Holiday

MLK

CCW Story Part 19: James T. Kirk Recommends the Tokarev

Now that I had passed the CCW class, and could apply for a permit, I decided it was time to look for a handgun. A friend at work owns several guns, a happy easygoing sort, I figured he could help with some concealed carry weapon choices. My friend is a Classic Star Trek Nut, I will call him James T. Kirk. He takes life seriously enough to get a PhD in Chemical Engineering, but not seriously enough to tuck in his shirt. Monday morning, bright and early at work, I asked Kirk what he thought would make a good concealed carry weapon.

“My pre-requisites for a gun are twofold”, I told him. “Cheap and reliable”.

“I don’t know about reliable, said Kirk, but about the cheapest thing you can get right now is a CZ-52”. “You can get them at gun shows for under $200, and the ammo is dirt cheap.”

“What is a CZ-52”? I asked.

“It’s an inexpensive gun that the Czek army used while they were a Soviet satellite”. “They have switched to another model, and there are warehouses full of ‘52s being dumped on the market”. Kirk said. “It will go through anything”. He added, as an afterthought.

“Define anything”. I asked.

“Well, lets put it this way, probably not through concrete, but definitely through a car door, a house, and mabey 10 people, even through body armor”. Said Kirk.

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“Well, a buddy of mine and I did some experiments”. Kirk replied.

Then the story came out. He had purchased a CZ-52 at a gun show for under 200 dollars along with several hundred rounds of 7.62 x 25 "Tokarev" ammunition , the standard Eastern Block military handgun round. One day when at his buddies house, the two of them had decided to test a Kevlar bulletproof vest that just "happened to be laying around". They put a large block of Styrofoam in the vest to simulate a human torso and took shots at it with different guns. The Kevlar stopped everthing, .22 pistol rounds, 0.38, 9mm .40, .45, even a 10mm would would not penetrate the Kevlar. Then they tried the CZ-52 with it's Tokarev round. It went throught the front side of the vest, punched a hole through the Styrofoam and then passed cleanly through the back of the vest, and finally stopped after taking a chunk out of a concrete slab.

As Kirk waxed poetic of the wonders of the Tokarev round and the CZ-52, I wondered if any of our neighbors in the apartment complex own one of these things, or for that matter anyone on the block. Were our apartment walls really concrete as the rental office had boasted? Should I load our dressers up with bricks? The image formed in my head, of America awash with ugly, cheap former East Blok surplus handguns, rusting under car seats, tossed into pickup truck toolboxes. These Slavic castoffs, coming in by the boatload, oozing from behind the rusty iron curtain , as Slovak factories turned out untold thousands of cases of armor piercing ammo. Wasen’t armor piercing ammo illegal for civilians to purchase? Did the police know about this lethal tide? I thought of those cops that patrol their beats, sandwiched in layers of Kevlar, now potentially rendered useless by the cheapest handgun a person can buy. I imagine a cop buying an $800 vest to protect himself, while across town, a crook plunks down $116 on a CZ-52, then gets pulled over by the cop in his brandnew and totally useless Kevlar vest.

CCW Story Part 18: What does a gun owner look like?

Most gun owner that I know are pleasant people, that is until they get on the subject of firearms with a liberal. Like my friend packing her pistol into the alcohol serving restaurant, why do seemingly ordinary citizens get so uptight about whether or not they get to carry around a little lethal chunk of lead spitting metal?

What does the average gun owner look like? The answer depends on who you talk to. Once driving through Kentucky with my father, we saw a man driving a Pontiac with a perfectly round basketball sized shotgun pattern of dents in the middle of the driver’s door. At that moment, I would have painted you a picture of toothless mountain dweller in a shack, shining shotguns with a dirty sock and taking moonshine assisted potshots at raccoons in the yard and hitting the family car instead. One hopes that the family was not unloading groceries from it at the time.

My in-laws are the unhappy but prim handgun owners. Surly brooding types, who worry excessively about what others think of them. The sort who comment on your clothes, roll their eyes at you, attend church regularly and are prone to making vague threats separated by long silences. We no longer speak. Based upon my experience with the in-laws, I would have described a gun owner as being the love child of Hyacinth Bucket and Jack the Ripper.

CCW Story Part 17: Hatching The Plan

That night, my wife and I lay in bed discussing the day’s events. We tallied the totals, and came up with three candidates for Concealed Carry Permits amongst all of our CCW classmates. Myself, her and the young African American man. All others had either not followed the instructors rules, not been able to see the target at the required distance, had previous or hinted at future violent episodes, or put themselves and everyone else on the range in mortal danger. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, turning the facts around in my mind. I could buy a gun, get my permit and carry, and write a story of the experience. I had a vision of a book, detailing my journey into this madness, this weapon filled culture in these United States. Not what is shown on TV, in movies, in NRA pamphlets, hunting magazines, Michael Moore’s doctored documentaries, or lobbied for in the US Congress. One man's story of what gun culture really is from the perspective of an outsider.

Estonians Choose USP 9mm

The Estonian Army is switching from the 'ol reliable Makarov in 9x18 to the H&K USP in 9x19. Dr. Strangegun beware: H&K is also going to "destroy" of the old Maks. Or they could import them into the US. I know several people who would like at least one.

One Pink Doughnut!

Once my wife and I went to Dunkin Doughnuts, because she had a craving for a single cake doughnut. We pulled up at the drive through window, and a heavily accented voice issued from the order speaker.

Doughnut guy: "What can I get for you"?

Me: "I would like one cake doughnut".

The doughnut guy said this.

My wife turned to me and asked: "Did he say One pink doughnut"?

"Yes". I said. "I believe he said one pink doughnut".

I wondered if we were going to get a pink doughnut and what flavor a pink doughnut would be, and if we would meet confusion at the pickup window.

I readied my $0.85 and pulled up to the window. Doughnut guy handed me a paper bag with a cake dougnut in it. My wife flipped it over and saw that it was a pink glazed doughnut. Doughnut guy had hedged his bet and set it cake side up so that we would be satisifed with cake, or pink, and get out of his hair.

"We ordered a cake doughnut". I said to Doughnut guy.

"One cake doughnut, eighty five cents". Said Doughnut guy.

I shelled out the change as Doughnut guy walked to the doughnut rack and picked up a cake doughnut. He held it high in the air and showed us the doughnut from all sides. My wife gave him the thumbs up. He bagged it and handed it over.

I ate the "Pink doughnut". It was strawberry.

Three weeks later, my wife had the urge for another cake doughnut. We made the trip back to the same Dunkin Doughnuts, and as I pulled up at the speaker, I started to laugh. Doughnut guy asked for my order, I almost coulden't hear him over my laughter.

I managed to pull it together, and with my best elocution, said into the microphone:

"I would like one caaaaaake doughnut".

My wife and I debated what the result of my order would be. This time, she got her cake doughnut on the first try.

CCW Story Part 16: Who's Counting?

Bruce's last request on the range that evening was that we rapid fire at the target.

"I want you to have brass in the air at all times". He said.

My nice pattern disappeared as I spayed bullets at the target. I even missed the target completely once. My wife, however did not miss at all. "OK, pull in your targets, count your hits, then wad up your targets and put them in the trash, wash your hands and come upstairs". Said Bruce.

"Was he not going to count the holes in each target himself"? I asked myself. “I would like independent verification of some of these scores”. I thought.

I pulled my target down, counted the holes and stuffed it into the waste bin, followed by the Crazy Lady and the Geezer. Had the Geez made 36 hits out of 48 tries? Did the Crazy Lady have 53 holes in her target from her 48 + the Geezer’s and Strangelove's misguided rounds? The world will never know, as the targets were never tallied by an independant party. Back upstairs in the classroom, Bruce began filling out our certificates. We had all passed the class and were free to register with the state. It was clear that the marksmanship portion of the test was left to a judgment call by Bruce. Bruce has a big brass pair, weighing pounds, and must be OK with the thought of the Geezer packing heat like a cataract afflicted Dirty Harry, but me and my average human sense of mortality is a different story.

“How do you protect yourself against people like this, is there anything I can do to feel safe on the street again”? I thought.

I had until that day never seen such a display of recklessness, carelessness and-in-your-face stupidity, but then I had not been to a gun show yet.

CCW Story Part 15: NRA Pimp Slap

I realized that part of Crazy Lady's mess was probably stray lead from the Geezer, or worse, Nazi love taps from Dr. Strangelove's evil pistol. My loved one and I were sandwiched between a half blind Geezer unable to see the damn target and Dr. Strangelove's evil kinky gloved Hitler fist with it's .38 caliber fueled suicide fetish. Not to mention the Biker's farther down with his apocalyptic bloodbath fantasy, and the crazy meth-queen BB gun bandit. It is at moments like these that you realize that truth, what is truly said and done on this planet by real people is more absurd and twisted than anything anyone could ever pen as fantasy.

At that moment I changed my mind about getting my concealed carry permit. I needed it, not to protect myself against criminals, but to even my chances against the soon to be gun toting spawn in the room. I had walked onto the range a different man, naive and happy. Now, with a pimp-slap of NRA inspired, State approved reality, I began to feel fear. I was seeing what can happen when the State attempts to legislate and control lethal weapons. I was witnessing the proverbial "Crack" that people fall through who go on to do evil things that should have been prevented by safeguards. The crack was wide here, I could hear the echoes of gunshots reverberating in it's expansive chasm, as these gun nuts all slipped through it, walking side by side like gun toting characters in a musical on their way into happy concealed carry weapon land.

CCW Story Part 14: What do you mean you can't see the target?

I kept my eye on Strangelove for the rest of the session. He seemed to do better and was keeping the muzzle within an arc of 120 degrees. I was up again, this time all of our targets were moved out to 15 yards. Once again I plugged the hole in the center of the target, a bit better than my wife. I glanced down the range and saw that the Springfield XD owner at the end of the row did well. Everyone else's targets looked like Swiss cheese. In the Crazy Lady's target, the bullet holes did not even appear to be denser in the middle of her target, they randomly peppered the whole thing, even the corners. It was at that moment I heard the Geezer utter the statement that would change my life.

"I can't see the target at 15 yards".

It was the sort of statement you have to let sink in, percolating through your mind, a Zen Statement full of implications and ramifications that you won't even find out about or understand fully for decades.

"I can’t see the target at 15 yards”.

The man is holding a handgun during a State mandated marksmanship test, and says that he can't see the target.

Can’t see... Hmm.

That means that if licensed by the state to carry a handgun, this man could shoot what he thinks is a knife wielding stranger running at him pell-mell on the beach, only to shoot my sister’s kid playing with a plastic shovel in his hand. I imagined that they would never license him to carry a concealed handgun. I comforted myself with the thought that the State of Tennessee could not license him to carry a handgun, could they? Not if you can't see the target at the distance required by the State for the marksmanship portion of the class?

“Surely not”. I thought to my self. They will weed out Strangelove and the Geezer, and the streets will be that much safer. What is the difference between a meth-addicted burnout with a gun and an armed old man who can’t see 15 yards? I thought to myself. Both are indiscriminately lethal.