Righty Blogger Calling For Iraqi Withdrawal

So sez Varifrank!

She used to be my idol, ya know.

Attempted Suicide?

By Avian Flu?

Or is he just a c*cks*cker?

Yahoo! Couldn't Say It (Racist Post)

Chinese Soldiers Skipping Meals

Yahoo! or Google couldn't say it.

(Yahoo! caption:) A Chinese soldier trains a dog by skipping rope at a military base in Nanjing, east China's Jiangsu province January 28, 2006. Picture taken January 28, 2006. CHINA OUT REUTERS/China Daily



Cowboy Blob: Daring to Step Over the Line.

Pick a Winner!

Let's Get Tactical

The Pima Tactical 3-Gun kicked off on a chilly Arizona Sunday morning. Forty-four shooters split into five squads to engage the five stages of fire set out for us. The match director closed down the only pistol stage early due to safety concerns. The matches are under new management, who decided to make every stage single-gun for simplicity's sake, so we had two riotgun and two carbine stages remaining.

Jon and I were the only ones entered in Heavy Metal class, so I had my work cut out for me. He shoots the fullsize M1A with his neat-o muzzle brake faster than I can shoot the SOCOM (which has a nice brake too) and he left me behind score-wise from the very beginning. Riotgun was much closer, since we had nearly identically configured Remington 870 pump guns.
















We were squadded with some of the same folks I shot with for the October Pima Tactical. The "Old Guy" was with another squad though, and was competing with a Ruger Mini-14. "Tommy Tactical" would have been at home with the guys from Cavalry Arms, who basically wore and shot their entire inventory. The Pink Lady won the Women's Division again. New Shooter Jeff (who I took under my wing in October) showed up with a friend new to the game. (Whoohoo!) Unfortunately, their day was marred with some rookie mistakes, Jeff's earning him a DQ for "breaking the 180" and Russell's giving us all a chuckle when he decided the two shotgun slugs would print nicer on the clean white targets than on the ratty, taped brown targets. I'd panicked a bit because he was using my shotgun (I hadn't shot yet) and I thought the rifle sights were on, but he reassured me that the shots went right where he wanted them, but he shouldn't have wanted them on the "no-shoot" targets if he was thinking right. I don't think Jeff was too discouraged by the pre-mature ending of his shooting day; he had a lesson in gun safety deeply ingrained by the event. I think Russell will be back too!

Overall, it was a great day to be afield in the Arizona sunshine. Notice my garb was designed to maximize heat absorption. It was gloriously warm in the sun and chilly in the shade. I spent a lot of time alternating between the two to stay comfortable.

Weekend Binker Pics

Dreaming in the Arms of Benadryl

Last night I fully intended to wake up as usual at 3 am and submit my previous post to the Carnival of Cordite .45 Edition, play some Steel Panthers, then go back to sleep around sunrise. It's a routine I don't care for, but I've gotten used to it. Around 11 pm I started feeling itchy all over, not surprising because I'd just played some roughhouse with the ferrets before caging them for the night (no more ninja forays for Lenny!). I popped a Benadryl to kill the itch and maybe help me get some better sleep. After my latest Soviet campaigners were crushed under the treads of German StuGs, I grabbed some sci-fi from the paperback stacks in the closet; by the time Captain Blaine was notified that a possibly alien spacecraft was entering the New Caledonia system via normal space, I was drowsy enough to take a shot at sleep. I was a bit surprised that when I woke up, it was 8:30 am. I remember the dream vividly (I was bitching out my Ground Mission Supervisor trainer for not teaching me about some reams of paperwork that were overlooked my entire tour, but now were gonna keep me from returning to the States this month) and still a little drowsy closed my eyes and could almost immediately see the dream continue. This was kinda neat! I think I woke up again around 11 and watched some more dream through closed eyes but lucid mind. It had morphed into some kind of WWII story (probably an aftereffect from all the Steel Panthers I'd played this week) that didn't affect me personally, but was rather enthralling. The shock of seeing the clock read 3:30 pm bounced me out of my relaxed state!

Vote for the Gunnies!

Head on over to Countertop Chronicles and vote for your favorite Gun Blog. You'll notice that someone nominated my humble blog for a couple of categories, in which I'm trailing like a fat kid chasing the rapidly accelerating ice cream truck.

I don't think I'll be doing anything of the Carnival of Cordite this week. For its 45th iteration, it's limited to .45-caliber-related articles. Well, all my good .45 stories have been told, even the one about shooting a TC Contender in .45-70 Gov't. It's in my archives entitled "Stupid Fun Power" or something.

I will be taking my favorite .45 (BoG) to the Pima Tactical this Sunday. It's a four-stage 3-Gun match the Pima Pistol Club puts on every 5th Sunday. I'll be competing in the He-Man Class (some call it Heavy Metal: I'll bring single-stack .45, .308 rifle, 12 guage pump), so I know I'll suck. Classes (Open, Tactical-Scope, Tactical-Iron, and He-Man) are based on equipment, not skill level, and cash prizes are awarded to the top shooters in each class (and some further down depending on the number of shooters in that class).

If you're interested in watching, welcome! Bring eye and ear protection. If you want to compete, more welcome! I estimate a safe round count as 100 rounds pistol, fifty shotgun (birdshot, but bring at least half a dozen slugs), and about 150 - 200 rifle. Rifle is very open-ended round count-wise, because you can spend all day on the long-range steel if you keep missing! If you don't want to drive all the way to Catalina AZ, you can wait until I blog the match next week!

But I'd Rather Be a Mustang GT

I'm a Chevrolet Corvette!

You're a classic - powerful, athletic, and competitive. You're all about winning the race and getting the job done. While you have a practical everyday side, you get wild when anyone pushes your pedal. You hate to lose, but you hardly ever do.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Breakfast Dogs

Maggie and Marley (Marleigh?) get into the act. Got breakfast dogs of your own? Blog it and leave a link in comments or Email to cowboyblob--at--yahoo--dot-com.

No Such Agency

I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill ya.

Lately, Hollywood has decided that the old shadowy "Company" CIA bad guys should be replaced by NSA bad guys. I think this is because the CIA is full of Ivy League Liberals who got tired of their bad image and dropped word at a cocktail party that something had better be done or somebody's going to get a ricin-tipped umbrella point in the ass. Rather than make some fictional agency the subject, they attribute all kinds of outlandish missions to the other "Secret Agency." Hasn't anybody read "Puzzle Palace?" (I bought my copy at the Rite Aid drug store just inside past the Credit Union.) The only guys with guns are the Rent-a-Cops at the Entry Control Points! If you work for a Secret Agency, does that make you a Secret Agent? The CIA Operations Directorate is full of people who wear fake noses and carry poisoned pens; who does NSA employ? Math geeks and language nerds! The only dangerous people in the building are the US Marines stationed there, and they're not as scary as real Marines! [Rolling for cover.]

It was good to see President Bush showing some love to NSA employees yesterday. I remember the lovefest when President Reagan dedicated the Rubiks Cube building (the new one they always show in front). Maybe Clinton visited there once, probably when the summer interns were in full bloom; more likely not, since he loathed the military and the cryptologic service elements make up a lot of the manpower there. GWB's visit raised some spirits, I'm sure. It's not easy toiling away in anonymity with the nation's most closely guarded secrets in your hands. It's even worse when the only press you do get is twisted lies designed to make you and your President look bad. And leaked secrets that cost uncounted dollars and man-hours.

You know, ricin's not really that hard to make....

Does It Bother Anyone Else...?

Another Racist Post
Is anybody else confused by GEICO's new ad gecko, who speaks with a thick British accent? Are there geckos native to the Isles? Are Brits that much more trustworthy that the ad agency pitchmen would want one as the voice of the *!American!* insurance company? Gecko imagery is spread all over the American Southwest, but would anybody want to buy insurance from a Hopi Indian or a Navajo? Inquiring minds want to know what they thinking.

Images hoarked from Wikipedia and Arizona Gifts, respectively.

From a Pen Pal

"Waiting for a Biscuit."

I Need To Get Out More

I finally managed to field a viable German force in Steel Panthers: World at War. Now if I could only figure out why the game resets/reboots while I'm in the middle of stomping some Detroit Sherman tanks parts into the blood-soaked French soil. I wonder if I'm having too much fun playing the Wermacht; last night I dreamed of worrying whether any of my troops were committing atrocities between battles. The battlefield supremacy I feel seems similar to playing with the US Army in SP2: Modern Battles: almost invincible. Of course, there's the little matter of the USAAF and RAF exploding my Tigers and Panthers from above. And the sheer incredulity whenever my 88-mm shells bounce off the turret of an M-4A1. Still, it's nice wearing the shoe on the other foot after bringing up American, British, and Russian armies playing hide and seek against the numerically inferior but greatly more deadly panzers.

And my German soldiers teach Sunday School at the orphanage in their off duty time!



Photo from the folks at Goodrich Toy Soldiers.

I'd Rather Have This One

Rodger has one with a little more engineering, but a lot poorer gas mileage.

Hang On, Squiggy, I'm Going For Help!

I somewhat suspect one of the reasons Lenny's escaped the room three mornings in a row is that he really wants to; perhaps to remind me that the litterboxes and newspapers were more than due for changing. While scooping litter today, my eyes burned and projectile snot flowed from my nose. Dry heaves are not fun. I tried changing papers on an almost daily basis, but my squeamish poop aversion still gagged me. I'd rather dry heave only once or twice a week, thank you. I know it's time to change poo paper when my eyes start itching.

It's the high point of my week.

Monday Blues

You'd think for a guy who doesn't get up and drive to the office every weekday any more that Mondays would be just like every other day. Mondays without Monday Night Football, that is. What's the point of even getting out of bed? I was visited by the Raisin Hoarking Fairy again this morning...well, it was almost afternoon. Lenny crept into my room and climbed into bed with me...with all the stuff in the house that can distract a ferret, I should be touched that he'd seek out my attention over the opportunity to push every glass picture frame in the living room down to its destruction. No, he didn't crawl in and snuggle up next to his bestest buddy and food dish-filler for a comfy snooze, he crossed my bed like it was on his way to where he was going. When he noticed me, he copped this expectant look, like "Amuse Me, Mortal! And Don't Spare the Raisins!" What he got was a free ride back to his room. Funny, he doesn't do the escape act when I'm out and about in the day time. It's just Squiggy throwing himself at the plexiglas to draw a watergun blast. Lenny must think him such an amateur.

Go Steelers!

Go Ugly.

Bed Buddy

They look as blurry as I did this morning. Lenny did a little commando recon this morning. Who knows what trouble he got into before he climbed into bed with me and woke me up?

I Got Nothing Today

Final Glock and Knife Show

Ha! My G21/Survival Knife post was about "brute force and utility;" this one's just about brute force. I've got several decorative swords displayed about the house, but only one I would dare take into combat with me. I bought it at a Maryland Rennaissance Festival ages ago; it's got a steel blade and one-piece brass hilt/ handguard/ handle-or-whatever you call it. I dressed it up with some electricians' tape and paint. It's been a part of a few Halloween costumes over the years. On one such spooky evening, my friend Kevin and I sparred Hollywood-style in a Fort Meade post housing parking lot. T'was a good thing we were both close to sober: he had a two-handed claymore that could have cut me in half. I ran into him again in Texas, only this time he had a headsman axe. No sparring this time, but we had a lot of fun with the gourds after they were done playing party games with them.

The Glock 20 (10-mm) is my ultimate GunSafe Queen; I really had to dig way back for it. It's another rebuilt gun...bought with hunting javalina in mind. I fired it once at an indoor range and haven't fired it since. Life has interfered with the hunting trips we used to take. I'm half-tempted to get a license this week and go stomping after bunnies all by myself (since we've had a few overnight freezes to kill the parasites), but I'm just too lazy. Okay, maybe just a range day, with some of my redheaded stepchildren (9-mms and .357s) and The GunSafe Queen.

The Carnival of Cordite is up! Next week is #45, devoted to .45 caliber weapons...just like my next birthday!

Pop-Pop-Pop!

So goes the sound effects on my Steel Panthers: World at War game whenever some GI HQ unit returns fire with their M1 Carbines. Denise at The Ten Ring brings her carbine out of the vault and posts a great article on the most-produced small arm in America's WWII arsenal.

I've got two M1's, both by Universal Sporting Goods (not GI spec); one with a polished bolt and richly grained furniture, the other parkerized, with a plain stock and GI sling (was the first rifle I ever bought...from a USAF tech school Combat Arms instructor). It's coming up on 20 years since I've last fired them. At first, I tried reloading for .30 Carbine, but somehow most of my rounds were out of spec. Now, if I ever run into a batch of inexpensive ammo, I might get a few hundred rounds to get acquainted with the fun little gun.

Jammin: 9-mm AR Update

Took my brand new Pro-Mag 9-mm Colt AR mags from Natchez out to function test with the RRA problem child...JAM-O-MATIC! I got one shot off with each magazine (different ammo variety in each) before I got a jam like the one shown. I then tried my only metal Colt magazine...it worked until the last round, which tried to feed sideways and kinked the brass pretty severely. I think I'll see if the local gunsmith can do anything. With my luck, he'll be the guy who put this mess together!

On the lighter side, I finally got my Ruger .44 dirty; this cowboy gun handles the brutal recoil much better than my ported Anaconda...if you don't mind a bunch of muzzle climb. It beats the pain from the gun getting slammed back straight into the webbing of my hand.

Tampa MLK Day Parade

Some colorful bunting would have been nice.

Source

Glock and Knife Show 5

Practicality. That's my Glock 30 and Gerber 450. If it weren't for the sunset of the so-called Assault Weapons Ban, I would have voted the G30 as the Weapon for the 21st Century: ten rounds of the arguably most favored defensive caliber stuffed into the smallest package possible. Mine came already equipped with tritium night sights; I had the extended slide release added later.

My Gerber is my hunting knife, briefcase companion (when I don't fly), and pocket people-sticker when I don't pack heat.

Gee...that's five so far. Am I going to run out of knives before I run out of Glocks? What do you think? Is my knife collection complete? Don't I already own every Glock worth having?

Cox & Forkum Beat Me to it

That's why they get the big bucks.













"'During Clinton’s first year in office,' writes (the U.S. Marines) Lt. Col. Tom McKenney in the (1994) book, 'The Clinton Chronicles,' 'an incident occurred which was buried by the news media.'

'The occasion was a departure for a state function, a routine operation,' Col. McKenney writes. 'Vehicles were lined up outside the White House... Young Chelsea Clinton, like everyone else, was assigned a specific sedan.' But when Chelsea was about to get into her limo, she turned around and declared: 'I won’t ride in this car! There’s a military man in here, and I don’t ride with military men!'

The 'military man' happened to be a senior U.S. officer. Being a gentleman, however, he quietly got out of the car and found another ride.

In a separate incident, Chelsea asked her young Marine security escort to wear civilian clothes in the future. 'My family doesn’t like military people,' she explained.

Where, do you suppose, the 'young Chelsea' acquired such attitudes? At her home, of course.

And those are the two women (Hillary and Chelsea) whom President Clinton sent in March (1996) to boost the morale of our troops in Bosnia? That’s like sending 'Hanoi Jane' to cheer up U.S. troops in Vietnam'!"

Source

I've also heard similar anecdotes from a friend who worked in the WH Communications Office.

Hotties from Countries Beginning with P for $500, Alex

Kim is polling the Nation of Rifleman to see who tickles our fancy, Miss World-wise.

He's asking us to rank our top three, but this being my blog, I'll give you my Top Five, because it's kinda freaky how it turned out...(from 1 to 5) Phillipines, Puerto Rico, Czech Republic, Peru, Poland.











Okay, Miss CZ was the exception. It pained me to weed out some major babes (Miss Greece, call me!), but the job had to be done.

El Capitan has similar regard for Miss Philipines, but his #1 vote goes to Miss Denmark, and #2 vote goes to Miss Canada (left). Sorry, dude, I'm just fearful she's going to open her mouth and sound just like Fran Drescher.

Do They Make This for the PC?

Cut! Refresh the Pudding! More Pudding!

Just as Ace was lamenting the over-promotion of gay-themed flicks out of Hollywood, I thought to check the Tucson Film Office's site to see if any extra or PA jobs are coming up. The only project looking for PAs? Gay Bed & Breakfast Of Terror. I shit you not. That's the name. I don't know whether my one-night's gofer work on Hallmark's DreamKeeper was credited, but I don't want to start off my skimpy resume with a head-cheesy title like that. There seems to be a lot of indie gay-themed films shot in Tucson; more than the Hollywood average, I'll bet.

PAs will be housed on location if they would rather not drive back and forth [from the 90 min. drive from Tucson-- ed.]. There is no pay, but great onset experience, credit, and meals on location. Our production can work around some schedules - if PAs are only available some days of the shoot we will still consider them. We do need PAs to be available the ENTIRE day they are available however. PAs should be comfortable working on a gay-themed film. We're looking for PAs in the following departments:

Grips
Gaffer
Wardrobe
Makeup
Makeup/Prosthetic Effects
General Production Assistants

I'd be doing the GPA thing (anywhere else)...I wonder if prosthetics includes strap-ons? No, I really don't wanna know. Yup, I'm passing on this job. Call me a homophobe if you must, but only if you stipulate that -phobe means fear, not hate. I have a hard enough time stepping out the door to go shopping sometimes; I definitely don't need to try to work somewhere that will creep me out. Yeah, I know that the actors might not even be gay themselves...don't mess with my reasons for sleeping in 'til noon!!

Misdirected Torch

Sick, Yes?

Why is chocolate leaking from your ammo pouch?

In Honor of MLK

I posted this to the Usenet newsgroup alt.tasteless.jokes in 2000 (I was only Blob back then; I didn't get the cowboy hat until 2002). The topic paragraph is mostly true. What follows that is crude, tasteless satire...one of my favorite kinds. Just skip this post if you can't take a joke.

The Association of American Bishops has sent to the Vatican in Rome a list
of 200 Americans they believe are 20th Century Martyrs. Conspicuously
heading the list is the late Dr. Martin Luther King, who was not Catholic.
There are those in the Roman Catholic Church who see his inclusion as the
first step toward beatification and, ultimately, canonization as a Saint.
In order for anyone to be considered for this sanctification, a number of
authentic miracles (two) must be attributed to the person, and without
special dispensation cannot be decreed until 50 years have elapsed since the
claimant's death.

A veritable plethora of miracles has sprung from the life and death of the
Martyr, Reverend King. These are being documented by the Bishops for
inclusion in the report to the Pope. These include:

-- The formerly subhuman race of the "American Nigger" has been uplifted to
such full sentience that only few thousands of the original breed are known
to exist. Instead of being restricted to menial, low-paying jobs requiring
a good deal of supervision, American Blacks are now capable of attaining a
higher education and holding high-profile respectable jobs as space shuttle
pilots, statesmen, even Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

-- Black athletes have evolved to such an extent that they can not only
compete in Major League sports, but can even master the "thinking" positions
like NFL quarterback. The bishops had naught to say about their lack of
progress in ice hockey....

-- A Black man slit his Caucasian wife's throat from ear to ear and also
killed an acquaintance of hers in cold blood--and was not immediately strung
up in a tree by a lynch mob. In fact, he was acquitted of the crime.
(Reverend King really went overboard here)

-- A Black woman not only wins the Miss America Pageant, but parlays what
would have been a disgraceful de-crowning into a successful music and film
career. The Bishops have included a copy of the Penthouse spread for the
Holy Father.

-- The Black Mayor of the Nation's Capital goes to jail on drug charges, and
upon his release is re-elected to public office.

The Bishops could have gone on and on, but they really only needed two
miracles. Today we celebrated the birthday of Martin Luther King. In a
decade or so (or sooner if the Pope is feeling jiggy with it) we might be
celebrating the birth of the first Black American Saint. Happy Saint
Marty's Day!

Submitted to the Carnival of Comedy. May the Lord have mercy on my soul.

Update: "Eh?" Bite me!

Glock and Knife Show 4

A fer-real Swiss Army Knife! Is he running out of knives before he exhausts his collection of Glocks? Who knows? Outside of my couple of multi-tools (which I don't consider knives), this little baby is the handiest thing in my house. Handier than me, for sure, if you're looking at my inoperable garbage disposal....



The Glock 19 is another rebuild that I only bought because it would give me one more Glock than my friend Jon has. It's got the extended slide stop and lighter trigger for when I feel like shooting "minor" in the matches (the Pima 3-Gun doesn't take power factor into account in its scoring). I rationalized its purchase (besides the perfectly rational reason of one-upping Jon) by reasoning that if I ever had a girlfriend (hah!), I could teach her to shoot the more tame 9-mm instead my .40s or .45s. Yeah, it's not like I don't have a safe full of other Europellet guns and .38 Special-munching revolvers. I shoot this one more than any other of the Nines and even used it to qualify for my latest CCW permit. I had the tightest group in the whole class. Lisa the Biker chick, my ferret-sitter, outshot all the other ladies with her own G19 in the same class.

Signs, Signs

Another GOP and the City Weekend Caption Contest, another Sunday night slaving over a hot keyboard trying to put out something entertaining. Here's my latest Flash effort, an 80 kB SWF file (it looked real sucky as an animated gif).

Yes, you'll see I'm quite the suck-up.

Torn Loyalties

As much as I'm traditionally a National Football Conference fan, I don't see any NFC team winning Super Bowl XL. Although I would like to see Peyton Manning bring the Colts to the Big Game, I can't see them parting the Steel Curtain to make it there. And now that Elway's gone, I can at last root for the Broncos! (Eli Manning is the new Elway.) I need Jake Plummer to have a Hall of Fame career to drive up the value of the autographed rookie card I own (part of my prize table winnings at last year's Superstition 3-Gun)...heh heh.

I see a Steelers/Panthers Superbowl, with Big Ben bringing the Shiny Silver Football back to the Steel City.

I write this as Peyton brashly waves off the oncoming punt team at 4th and 2, then engineers a touchdown drive. Go, Peyton! May the best team win.

Update! Holy Cow! Whowudda thunk Vanderjagtthemostaccuratekickerinfootball wudda missed the game-tying FG?

They Misspelt "Binker"

Mmmm...ice cream by candlelight! So romantic, Mommy! That's one thing I don't miss about living back East: ice storms that knock down power lines. Happy Birthday, Cutie!

Water Boy

This morning Squiggy's been a little Plexiglas Pest, even after I distributed their morning yogurt-covered raisins. Lenny was just lounging on the comfy blanky at the door, but Squigster the Attention Hound had to divert my attention from the Playoff Pre-Game Show by beating on the barrier, almost as if he wanted me to squirt him with the watergun I keep to discourage that kind of behavior. I'll go in and roughhouse with them after the games, then pop a Benadryl and fight off the nap attack that's bound to follow.