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.