The Guns of November

The first Monday after Thanksgiving is an unofficial holiday on the PA school calendar: it's the first day of buck season. While I was dragging stuff around for the sidewalk project, my brother Keith, Uncle Lenny (no relation or connection with the ferret), and double-cousin Craig (my family tree not only branches, it loops!) donned their day-glo orange and attempted to avoid getting shot by trigger-happy yahoos from Joisey long enough to harvest a cornfed buck in the woods down the hill behind Mom's house.

Craig bagged a meaty (but just legal, antler-wise) buck with his scoped .30-06. By the time he could field dress the carcass and drag it out of the woods, the venison source was too stiff to fit in the trunk. This was the first time I'd met Craig and I hadn't seen Lenny for a few years. They stopped in for coffee, so I got a late start on the sidewalk. More on that once I get back to AZ.

Update: For you gear nuts out there, Craig dropped the buck with a Remington 700 in .30-06, a gift to Uncle Lenny from his father when Lenny was just 12 years old. Way cooler than a Playstation!

Santa's Got a Gun

I got great feedback for the Halloween stages Jon and I did for the October 4th Sunday Practice 3-Gun Match...now the pressure is on. I've already made up four two-gun (pistol and long gun) stages with some kind of Xmas theme, but here's the deal: if I replace one of my stages with yours, you win a Blog Ad on my side bar for a month. If I incorporate elements of your stage into the stages I submit to the league CoFC, you still win a one-month Blog Ad. I'll even try to get Terry to print your URL on the course descriptions posted at the match. If you happen to read my mind and send me a similar stage to one I've already made up, I'll praise your keen intellect with a one-time link on the blog post describing the match. So you're a winner all the way around!
Now that I think of it, I'll post the better ones even if I don't use them and you all can decide after the match which is best. I may just send the whole lot to the League Poobahs and let them decide.

This is you keep you all busy while I drive back to AZ next week. Deadline is next Sunday afternoon, because I think the committee meets the following Monday.

Oh yeah, just send the written descriptions to cowboyblob--at--yahoo-dot--com. Drawings and diagrams are welcome. Try to limit props to those you've seen in past posts or something else that can be rigged up at little or no cost.

Update: Stages submitted to Course of Fire Committee are here.

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody!

Notice the gravy in my beard? Must go home soon...I'm losing my tan!

Added to my Xmas List

Get one here.

H/t to Lima Mike

Mi llama Manuel...Manuel Labor

Got a barn full of tractors, all either inop or drained for the winter. Couldn't get the lawn tractor started, even though I watched my brother drive it earlier in the week. Finally, the roto-tiller wouldn't start; neither of us recall it in action since we were both primary schoolers in Tennessee, but Mom assures us Dad had used it in the last few years. There was oil in the crankcase, so I splashed some gas in it and pulled the handle for all I was worth. Naturally, it didn't start. Sure, I could have rented one, but I'm too stubborn (and cheap). I tossed a shovel and pick into the wheelbarrow and got to work. After a few hours of healthy excercise, I'd cleared the sod off a ten-foot long, 41-inch wide, strip of lawn and discovered the arthritis in my left hand is almost as bad in the wrist as in the thumb. My right knee doesn't like to hold my weight at certain angles. Got lotsa rain last night and more today; giving me time to heal. And perhaps my brother can show me how to start the lawn tractor tonight. Tomorrow is supposed to be nice, weatherwise. Wish me luck.

Your House Not Tacky Enough?

Now available at Walmart!

Shhhhhh!! This is the other part of my Lil Bro's Christmas present!

Rustle

Happy Ammo Day!

Here's my haul for the holiday. The .45 ACP is part of my brother's Christmas present. As you can see from Lil Bro's ammo stash, the apples didn't fall too far apart from the tree. I got him the Wolf .45 last year (or the year before?) , but about the only time he ever goes to the range is when I'm home. He needs to find a shooting buddy and/or a fun match league like I did.

Mom's Other Pet

This spring, you met Mom's friend, Rambo the Chipmunk. He's still hiding out in the gas grill, we think. Now meet Reds the Woodpecker. He's been hitting the suet feeder daily, adding to the colorful bunch of characters visiting Mom's Birdstop and Grill along the migration highway. A bunch of big fat doves make me itch to get the pellet gun, but Mom wouldn't stand for that. If it were squirrels, that would be another matter. Who understands Moms? Chipmunks, okay! Squirrels...BOO!

Gotta Wonder if This Guy is Married

People say *MY* toy room is cluttered....

H/t to Iron Mike

Happy Birthday, Dad

How Do You Get a Dozen Little Old Ladies to Yell, "Shit!" ?

Have another yell "BINGO!"

What's Good in Life

What do you say when Mom asks "What are you hungry for?" "Is there anything you'd like me to cook for you while you're home?" My answer was, "Nope, just make whatever you want." Now, I would never order pot roast at a restaurant and wouldn't know the first thing about making one, myself, but Mom whips up an awesomely tender roast and that ever so wonderful by-product: taters, carrots, and shrooms. Mom's PA Dutch pantry doesn't have anything in it spicier than soy sauce, but dinner was just heavenly with just a sprinkle of Mrs. Dash seasoning.



My trip to MD was right away rewarded with some spicy jambalaya, good friendship, and a homey atmosphere. Sorry to you folks who were hoping for a MD blogmeet--I offered to take my friends out for dinner, but the idea of a cozy night around the fireplace was just too tempting. I had a few beers (hey, I'm on vacation!) and some yummy homemade peach schnapps.

Sunday morning, I ventured down to Crofton, where more friends waited. Instead of huddling against the chill of the evening, we spent the afternoon enjoying temps that toyed with the 80s and thrilled to helping a grandfather indulge his only grandson. A cookout on the sunsoaked back deck was in order and another feast was consumed.

Now, I've still got to try to pop in on friends in Philly and in Easton MD, but I got the "Bigs" taken care of; if you ever ask me to be the Best Man at your wedding, you'll get more than an Email or phone call out of me when I'm in your area, too!

I'm in the Moog for Love

"Paristine" by Russ Vaughn

With a nod to Joseph Farah at World Net Daily

Jacques and his frères are surely weeping
Les pauvres immigrès have caught them sleeping,
Paysans revolt, their emotions churning,
What’s that odeur? Is Paris burning?
Within the banlieues there’s no joy
Among les jeunes who are sans emplois
What, take a job? Not the way to go;
We’d rather riot, torch your Peugeot.

Ah, Mother France you took us in,
Then left us with no way to win.
We’re not ègal, not garçons blanc,
We’ve no real chance to earn a franc.
No, what we are, we’re useful fools,
For leftist dreams, just brown-skinned tools.
So the Rèpublique’s butt is in a crack,
Give your merci to Jacques Chirac.

We’ll breed you into minority,
Till only mullahs hear your plea,
And Shari’a rules throughout your land,
A Frenchman steals, he’ll lose his hand.
Your licentious lifestyle, long extolled,
Will leave your women stoned, dead cold.
But everything will turn out fine,
In the Muslim Republic of Paristine.

Russ Vaughn

Whoa, Ranger! WHOA!

My trusty steed got me safely across the country and the crack across the windshield (I think it's one of those temperature-change cracks, only because I've seen one form on my old Buick's windshield) only advanced about three inches. After a late start (slept in, my secret to long-range driving), I made it past D/FW the first night and past Knoxville, the second. These were my targets after I decided not to stop at Dyess AFB in Abilene TX at what would have been a good end of the day for non-extreme driving. Extreme it was. After Knoxville, I couldn't muster a good nap at the rest area there, despite having eked out only an hour of snoozing the night before on Sulphur Springs TX and a few hours later in southern Arkansas. I continued into southern VA, fueled by Mountain Dew and many good tunes on the 6-disc MP3 player.

While there, I discovered what a good little survival capsule I'd turned the bed of my truck into for this trip. My chicken sandwiches were still refrigerated by the icepacks I'd put in the cooler. The carpet remnants I'd spread over the truck liner saved my knees while maneuvering back there. I was enjoying a meal of chicken sandwich, Pringles, and bottled water when the heavy rain forced me to close the tailgate and camper shell lid. I had my Goretex TN Titans coat for warmth and a plush Tigger doll for my niece's Xmas present as a pillow. And a Ruger SP-101 tucked somewhere as the ultimate in masculine protection.

Before I start slaving away on the sidewalk project, I get to bounce down to MD this weekend to visit some friends. Then you can really start to expect me to bitch about some aches and pains.

On the Road Again

While I'm schlepping at the wheel for a few days, why don't you lurkers uncork in the comments and tell us all a story?

I <3 Rat

It Had to Be the Hat Question

You scored as Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones is an archaeologist/adventurer with an unquenchable love for danger and excitement. He travels the globe in search of historical relics. He loves travel, excitement, and a good archaeological discovery. He hates Nazis and snakes, perhaps to the same degree. He always brings along his trusty whip and fedora. He's tough, cool, and dedicated. He relies on both brains and brawn to get him out of trouble and into it. Indiana Jones 67% The Amazing Spider-Man 67% Maximus 63% Batman, the Dark Knight 58% Neo, the "One" 58% The Terminator 54% William Wallace 54% El Zorro 46% Captain Jack Sparrow 42% Lara Croft 42% James Bond, Agent 007 33% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

h/t to Anarchangel

It's Not My Fault!

Last week's troubles were all my fault...this week, the Shooting Gods were out for me. Maybe not me, personally. I might have been guilty by association, since Jon lost Major Mojo on riotgun and, [suspicious glare] was the last person seen shooting my Uzi while it worked [/suspicious glare].

All year, I shot revolver, hoping to see some competition. Today, I decided to have a Subgun Holiday (the league no longer has a SMG category) just shooting the four pistol stages for fun. Wouldn't you know it? Three wheelgun shooters showed up!


The first stage we shot was a pretty lame USPSA classifier stage (the League Poobah was pretty apologetic during the Shooting Meeting) whose fixed "Virginia Count" for rounds fired precluded any "rock and roll" on our part. The next was a three lane course featuring some cardboard target arrays, a plate rack, and a Texas Star. It would be the first and last time we'd get to enjoy ripping through a course firing short, controlled bursts. This stage doubled as the riotgun course.




I don't know what Jon did to piss off the Shooting Gods, but perhaps it had something to do with the iota of braggadocio in his voice when he commented that Winchester shells worked just fine in his Rem. 870 (mine hates them). When Jon futilely blazed through his shells with little effect on the plate rack, he thought that they might have been light #7-1/2 shot. Nope...they were #6s, just like mine, except that I leave quarterly offerings on the altar at the Pawn/Gun Shop for my Federal shotshells and leave the apostatic WW garbage in my junk ammo drawer for use in any of my guns limited to mid-19th Century technology.
I had several misses on the platerack myself, but I advanced to the Star and cleaned it handily.

Damn! I'm looking kinda fat and shaggy! I'll thank myself next week when I'm back East trying to keep warm. Did anybody not notice that I'm wearing shorts in early November? As John, the League Poobah, mentioned, "at last we have the weather we all moved to Arizona for."





Though it was sad to not engage the last stage with an automatic weapon, Jon and I made the most of our favorite format, Carbine, to end our day on a positive note. I'm confident (not seeing the final scores yet) that Jon whooped everybody. He beat me by 14-and-change seconds...and I had a miss (on a swinging target)!

Notice that I have a kneepad on my right knee? I've now got major carpet burn on my left knee! But my other kneepad I lent to Jon, shooting right behind me. That's what friends are for!


There's Jon zooming through the stage with basically the same weapon, except a big-ass magazine that obviates the need for time-consuming mag changes.

This stage required shooting through barrels or ports. Jon had no rug rash like I did.


I'm already looking forward to the December shoot, my last hurrah with the S&W 625 before I go Limited (Para P16-40) again next year. After enduring the frozen tundra of the Poconos for a few weeks, I'll be relieved to switch to Phoenix Winter Dress, a black T-shirt instead of a white one.

Release the Carpet Sharks!

Gobs of Gunly Goodness

At this week's Carnival of Cordite!

I Hate to Punt

I've been a bad, bad blogger and a shameful fusileer. Months ago, I opted into the Fighting Fusileers efforts to energize Project VALOUR IT, getting voice-recognition software to injured troops who have trouble with a keyboard. Since then, I've produced one promotional graphic and posted a few links. And that's it. I've been an inert slug of gray matter where the project is concerned and it bothers me. Today kicks off a fund-raising drive and I should be joining the Forces of Good to raise money for this worthwhile crusade. Instead, I'm packing my bags and a few toys and hitting the road in a few days.

Here's what you should be reading.

I've probably got half a dozen posts in me til I'm out of the loop for a little while. I might have a guest blogger entertain you for a post or two until I surface at the other end of the trail (I haven't heard from him on the matter, so don't get your hopes up).

Did it Again

All the end of Daylight Savings Time means to me is that I have to wait an hour later for Monday Football. On a day I gave blood, I felt the siren song of the soothing sunbeam through my back window as the sun started to set. Normally the game would be beginning by then, and I'd be energized; instead, my eyelids weighed heavily on my sleepy eyes (payback from getting up so early Sunday, then staying up late bombarding German infantry in North Africa) and I drifted off to sleep. I must have consciously put the TV on mute, figuring that I'd wake up in an hour by myself, or the early-bird Trick or Treaters would wake me by then.

When I woke up, it was completely dark and the game was well in progress. And no, I hadn't turned my porchlight on yet... Didn't this happen last year? I don't have booze to blame this year. Maybe I just subconsciously wanted all the candy to myself. I'm a pig.